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The silence of the night was ended by the sound of a motorcycle engine screaming down the highway towards Harper Rock. The headlight illuminated a sign as the bike raced past. "2 Kilometers to Harper Rock." The rider read out loud. "It's about time, I need a drink." The rider cracked his neck as his body was starting to feel the effects of the long ride. Joseph "Synn" Ryan rode his Harley Davidson Softail Custom into Harper Rock. His leather vest whipping in the wind as the bike raced inside the city limits. For the first time in a very long time, the vest Synn was wearing was minus a club patch on the back. He almost felt naked without one.

He stopped at the red light and looked around. Their were a couple of people on the street walking around or sitting against buildings. Synn called out to one that was sitting near by, from the look of the man he appeared to be a street person. "Hey buddy!" Synn called out to the man. "Where can I guy like me go for A drink around here?" He asked as the man sat up once he realized someone was actually talking to him. "Uggh....uhm...well... a fellow like yourself...will..uh...probably feel more...uh...at...uh...home at the handle bar." The man gave him directions to the bar. "Thanks buddy. Here! For your troubles!" Synn got out his wallet and threw the man a $10. The man quickly got up and grabbed it. "He..he..hey thanks...man!" The homeless man said. Synn gave him a salute and then roared down the street towards the Handle Bar.

Synn pulled up and parked his bike with the others parked outside. He looked over the outside and smiled. "The Handle Bar huh. Cute name." Synn said to himself as he walked through the door. He walked in and looked around. "The man wasn't kidding. This is my kind of place!" He said out loud. The people were his type of crowd, partier's, bikers, lewd..crude...and tattooed. Synn saw the bar at the back and began walking through the crowd to it. He looked at the people as he passed them, seeing if he recognized anyone. He thought he saw a couple of people look at him with a hint of recognition but he didn't recognize anyone. He got to the bar and waved over the bartender, who happened to be an attractive blonde. "What can I get ya?" She asked. "I'll take a whiskey straight." Synn ordered. The bartender returned with the drink and Synn paid and tipped. He made his way to a table by the corner and went and took a seat.

He looked around the room to see if he could see any MC patches or anyone wearing support gear. So far he saw only a couple of support shirts but nothing identifying a large MC presence. He did notice a group of males in the opposite corner of the bar selling what looked to be ecstasy but that was it as far as activity. The waitress came by and Synn downed his drink and ordered another. While he waited for his drink he stared off into the crowd as his mind began to think of the events of the last couple of days.

The night was slow until it wasn’t.

Serpentine was a rather large structure in the middle of Redwood. It wasn’t the only bar by any stretch of the imagination -- there were the nightclubs, like Nightmode and Harper’s Playland, and to the West there was Lancaster’s. Beyond that, the Handle Bar. It was the heart of the city at night, and the rising population of zombies and dead things didn’t seem to deter most from coming out and having a good time. There was extra security posted upon the doors of the busier establishments and the zombies never seemed to make it indoors. They stayed out on the street, where they became playthings for the bored and violently restless.

Serpentine set itself apart due to the tattoo parlour attached, and the parkour gym and paintball circuit underneath. It looked a lot like a 50s diner from the outside, but the inside proved to be a little more grunge; overhead, the speakers mainly blasted punk rock music, with snooker tables tucked into the back.

Jesse Fforde, owner and entrepreneur, mainly kept to the tattoo parlour. He was the resident artist, and his unsettling aura put off the customers if he spent too much time at the bar. Though, the place had become something of a destination; the population knew that a vampire owned the place. How could they not? As soon as any human set eyes on Jesse Fforde they knew what he was. Not because it outwardly showed, but because they were immediately terrified. Unless they were already part of the city’s undead cohort, of course.

Tonight, it was the thief who needed to be terrified. And for good reason.

Perhaps it had been a dare. Perhaps he was just reckless. Whatever the case, he’d failed in his endeavour. He’d tried to slip one of the Serpentine t-shirts into his bag. He’d succeeded in making it to the door before Jesse called out. The thief turned, a smirk writ upon his lips. Until he set eyes on Jesse, however, and that smirk vanished, eyes wide as he released the door and made a run for it.

Jesse, of course, followed.

The thief round the corner and fled down the street. He had no getaway car, and seemed to be looking for someone. He didn’t find who he was looking for, however, so he continued to run. He was tall and wiry and rather quick on his feet, but Jesse was quick, too, and had stamina for days. Jesse also had the shadows on his side, pulling the power to himself so that he was hidden, and quiet. The thief thought that he’d got away with it, and puffed, slipped into The Handle Bar.

The ******* Handle Bar. Of course.

Jesse dropped the shadows and followed, feet scuffing as he stepped through the front doors. These bikers, these huge men with their leather jackets and their ******* beards couldn’t quite comprehend why they were suddenly afraid of this young up-start with startling blue eyes. There was rage in his features as he scanned the room, finally settling upon the face he was searching for. He strode across the room.

”Thief!” he shouted, his voice cracked as if rusty, dusty, and unused. The thief was cornered. He had nowhere to go. His friends scattered like bowling pins. ”You know what they did with the likes of you in the olden days?” Jesse said as he closed the distance between them. ”They’d cut off your hand. C’mere, you little ****, so I can cut off your hand…” he snarled. There was already a sharp blade in his hand, a beautifully carved hunting knife that he’d had stashed in a sheath under his arm.

Jesse has Unnatural Aura: Everywhere you go, humans are immediately put at unease by your presence. Something about you is unnerving, terrifying, or downright creepy. This makes normal interactions with humans very difficult, and stealth is nearly impossible.

The feel of cold steel on his temple....the sweat dripping into his eyes...stinging them.....for a second he was there, until someone yelling snapped him out of it. He looked in the direction of the shouting and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. He couldn't explain it or believe it but for the first time in a long time he felt uneasy. Being the head of an MC meant you had to have the biggest balls in any room you enter so needles to say Synn was not liking this feeling that he wasn't the most dangerous man in the room. The man's booming voice made Synn jump up out of his chair. He instinctively reached for his Glock 19 but remembered that he had left it on the bike.

Synn looked closely at the man and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Now he had heard some things...some stories of "unnatural" things happening out East but this was straight out of a horror film. The pale skin and deep blue eyes, Synn could feel the anger and hate emanate from the man. Synn looked at the unfortunate man he was talking to and knew nothing good was in store for him. A fleeting thought of whether or not Synn should try and help the man came and went as fast as a mouse's fart. Synn loved violence....and hated thieves....so Synn definitely wanted to see what was going to happen next.

There were plenty there who didn’t think he would do it. It would be assault. It was against the law, right? But this was a biker bar, was it not? It seemed like a **** the consequences kind of establishment. And he was in a **** the consequences kind of mood. Where Allurists seemed to get away with things due to their silver tongues, Jesse Fforde got away with things mostly because the cops were too afraid to confront him. The soldiers, on the other hand, he did have some issues with but they were as much playthings to Jesse as the zombies were.

The thief tripped over a chair as he tried to back away from the approaching vampire. Jesse took the opportunity to drop, his knee digging painfully into the thief’s chest to pin him down. While the thief pushed and shoved to try get Jesse off of him, Jesse grabbed at one of the wrists and slammed it to the wood flooring.

”Please, man. I’m sorry, okay? Take the shirt back. You can even have all my money…” the thief snivelled. Jesse tsked and shook his head. Working fast, he lifted the heavy blade. Whatever aura he gave off, protective instincts generally kicked in at some point and he expected that there would be some kind of rescue attempt on behalf of the thief. He still had something of the element of surprise, however, and the blade swiftly dropped, chopping through bone and sinew and severing the hand neatly from the wrist.

The scream curdled, bringing a smirk to Jesse’s lips.

The scent of the blood permeated the space around him, his nostrils flared, pupils widening to midnight-dark, predatory circles. He felt a hand on his shoulder; one of the thief’s friends had found some balls. Jesse turned the bloodied blade to the would-be attacker, swiveling to his feet.

”...I dare you,” he said, his tone dripping with bloodlust.

He’s also got Blood Frenzy, which he only barely has control of: The scent from the merest drop of mortal blood often sends you into an uncontrollable blood-lust berserker frenzy.

Synn watched in anticipation as the thief tripped over the chair and then within milliseconds the other man was on top of him. pinning him down with his knee. Synn barely flinched as the man cut the thief's hand off, blood splattering onto his shoe. He had seen some nasty **** in his time, cartel be-headings, limbs severed, bodies mutilated and burned. It wasn't the gore which rattled Synn, but the way the man smirked while doing it. It sent shivers down his spine and rattled him to the core. Then it almost seemed like time slowed down. The man seemed to inhale as if he was inhaling the mans soul through his nostrils. Then Synn could swear the mans eyes doubled in size.

Synn doesn't know why he did it, out of fear? out of respect? out of survival? Synn noticed one of the thieves friends coming up to help his friend and called out to the man "Behind yo...." But before he could finish the man had already turned around and was pointing the blade, daring his would be attacker to make a move. "God damn!" Synn said out loud. "Who is this guy!" Synn looked around and was surprised to see the amount of people who stayed in the bar. He would have thought most would have ran for their lives. "Something tells me these people see this type of **** on the regular....don't they" Synn said out loud to know one in particular.

Jesse knew that he was making a spectacle of himself, and that it was probably something he ought not to do. Given the state of the city, however, it seemed to be sliding more and more into an anarchic state and it fed his desire for chaos. It wasn’t as if he’d killed the man and, though his sharp, pearly-white canines were now visible for all to see, were they to look close enough, he’d not bitten anyone, nor consumed any blood (despite his strong urge to do so).

Given said urge, he knew that it was in his best interests to leave the club as soon as possible, lest he give in to the temptation to rampage. Sure, he’d no doubt end up with a few bullets lodged beneath the skin but he was certain that he could drain quite a few of these cretins dry in retribution.

The friend had stumbled back when threatened with the bloody knife; Jesse kicked at the thief’s fallen bag and quickly dropped to his haunches to retrieve the merchandise that had been stolen. Not only did he pull out one of the t-shirts, but also a belt (with the S belt buckle, in the shape of a snake) and one of the souvenir beer mugs. He rolled his eyes toward the guy who’d been talking out loud.

”Show’s over,” he said, penetrating gaze lingering upon the features of the older male. He seemed cautious but mostly unphased. Jesse hadn’t missed the fact the guy had been about to warn him of impending danger. He offered a lopsided grin. ”There’s better beer down the road,” he said.

Given the merchandise he held could be seen to belong to Serpentine, plenty of the cohort gathered within the Handle Bar would know where he’d come from. He probably should fear some kind of revenge attack; he’d be waiting. Maybe it’d provide some much needed entertainment. Jesse turned on his heel and headed for the exit.[/justify]

Synn watched as the man walked over to the bag the thief was holding, kicked it over and began pulling out the contents. Synn licked is lips in anticipation at what the man might pull out. Money, Drugs, Guns, whatever he pulled out had to be good! Synn thought to himself. "What the ****...." Synn said to himself as the man pulled out a T-shirt that said Serpentine on it, a belt buckle and a beer mug. Now Synn understood that a price needs to be paid if you are caught stealing. But to cut a mans hand off for a couple of promotional items seemed almost a bit overkill, even to Synn!

I'd hate to borrow a pen from this guy and forget to give it back! Synn thought to himself. Then Synn stopped dead. The man was looking at him. He wasn't looking in his general direction....or at something near him....hell he wasn't even looking AT him it seemed. It was almost as if he was looking through him! Synn could feel the strange feeling of fear creeping up him slowely. ”Show’s over,”The man said to Synn. For a moment Synn felt paralyzed, whether by fear or something else he wasn't sure. Then the man gave him a sort of grin and said ”There’s better beer down the road,”Then turned and began to head for the door.

Synn was taken back by all that he just saw. The pale white skin, the incredible speed, the way his pupils widened, oh and not to mention the fact that he had fangs! Just like the guy from the Lost MC. Synn thought to himself. Synn had just met his first Vampire in Harper Rock. The power that he had displayed, Synn wanted it. With that power Synn could extract his revenge on the people who took out his club. In that instant the want changed to need. Come on Synn, show off those gigantic balls of yours. Synn said to himself as he started following the man. "Mind if I come with?" He said after the man as he hurried to catch up to him.

”…not afraid I’m gonna decide I need a snack after all that hard work?”

Synn stopped in his tracks. "...****...." He said out loud. "Guess I never really thought of that...." To which the thought truly occurred to him that he could be eaten. "Wouldn't you rather hire me to deal with your shoplifting problem so an important person like yourself doesn't have to deal with pieces of **** like that guy in there?" Synn said pointing in the direction of the Handle Bar which was becoming more distant in the background. Synn was hustling to keep pace with the man. "The Serpentine? Is that your place?" He asked.

"I could be your head of security." Synn knew he was taking one hell of a chance here and that at any moment this Vampire could pop his head right off his shoulders without even breaking a sweat. Do Vampires sweat? Synn figured if there was anyone in the city to become friends or allies with, this guy was one of them! "Besides I used to pump so much drugs and booze in this body, I doubt I would taste good!" Synn's heart began to beat a bit faster and Synn could start to feel sweat building up on the top of his head. Cool it asshole, he's probably got thermal eyes or something. Synn thought to himself as a took a deep breath in and slowely exhaled to calm his nerves.