Forgotten Horror

Abandoned Lot

Once a rather grand establishment for this neighborhood, the lot between and slightly behind both the Grisly Bar and Bunker's Garage has long since been abandoned. Freshly turned dirt, grass, bits of cement and various detritus from the removal of the old building, all that remains now is a hole. An old, rusted vehicle has settled into the dirt near the back of the bar, and graffiti runs rife on both the buildings and whatever else can be found here.

Clouds cast a pall over the evening sky. There is the occasional flash of lightning in the distance, miles and miles away though still visible in the Texas horizon. No rain threatens, however— it is hot, humid, and it seems that summer is more than ready to begin its rule.

It's a night where most are remaining in doors where it is air-conditioned and comfortable. There are those, however, that have no concept of heat, pain, pleasure—and it's not just the vampires. Those that need their next fix are also heedless of external, physical needs.

They simply want more.

Out in a back alley, tucked away in an old building's foundation where the building no longer exists, there comes a single gunshot followed by a shrill, terrified cry that breaks the night— and silence. A stillness. The passing of a soul that in one moment held hopes and dreams that turned into need and anger and.. foolhardiness.

They say ancient vampires have stronger blood, and a soul thought he'd be doing someone a favour.

Favours come with a price.

Marius stands, a broken body in strong hands, blood seeping through his fingers, in his mouth, on his face.. and all along the ground. A gun lies on the ground, a spent cartridge gleaming in a dull copper light…

Hot, muggy, stifling. Typical weather for Dallas in the throes of a transition from mild spring to excruciatingly hot summer. There are ways around the heat; one, to remain indoors, the other to climb on a motorcycle and ride. If it does start to rain, there are underpasses and closed gas station canopies under which to wait out the storm. Or, though more dangerous, simply riding in the rain, a helmet face-shield or goggles to keep the rain from your vision.

So it is that Desiree chooses to ride her bike to Bunker's garage to see when she should bring it in again for a check up. Yet, when she pulls up in front of the establishment, it's to find the place closed early. She sits on the idling bike for several minutes, then simply cuts the engine, removing her gloves and goggles, to try and figure what to do next? There's a bar next door, with an alley running between the two businesses, but she's never been inside. It looks rough, and she's not quite sure she's up for a bar brawl tonight. She's about to start riding again when there comes the sound of a gunshot and a scream, then an ominous silence.

A lack of curiosity has never been one of Desiree's faults, though foolhardiness might be. She's up and off the bike in an instant, booted feet making tracks to the abandoned lot. It's not well lighted, but there's enough ambient light from the neon on the bar to show her a scene from some slasher movie. She's made no effort to hide herself, and so it's to come face to face with the cold-eyed Elder who even now approaches. Desiree recognizes him as soon as he comes nearer. "Marius…" It's a whisper, and her expression is one of … fearful concern.

If ever there was a glimmer of soul in those cold, crystal blue eyes, nothing shows now. The life of one Marius Schlachter is long gone, replaced by the form of a man, but an entirely different creature gives him motion and pushes him forward. The body falls from Marius' hands, followed by a dull piece of metal, though when it hits a piece of cement, it is not the *thud* of lead, but rather, a soft *tink* of a different kind of metal.


Blood soaks through his clothes, and fangs are extended.. and the body that lies at his feet looks oddly.. smaller. Less full?

The footsteps are heard, and the only real registering in the hunter's mind is one of 'prey'. While satiated, the veteran is more than happy with more bloodshed— glorious, slick, warm lifeblood.

Turning to see who it is that stands virtually before him, even if the lamb believes a 'safe' distance away, there is.. nothing in the look. No recognition, nothing that would even begin to identify him with the vampire that can speak so silently on a sidewalk..

The one and only time Desiree accompanied her father and brother on a hunting trip to Arizona, she encountered a mountain lion not far from their cabin. Perhaps fortunately for her, the animal had more important things to do with his time, and left the girl she was alone. Later, in the safety of her bed, her father told her when encountering a predator, it's best to stand your ground as quietly as you can. Retreat, yes, but don't turn and run. Running sets off the "hunt prey" in the predator's heart. Good advice when facing a 600-hundred year old vampire who has lost the last vestiges of humanity.

And so Desiree remains still, forcing her breathing to calm, her heart not to race so fast. A half-step is taken backwards, putting some distance between herself and the monster she faces. Moistening lips. "Marius … no, you don't want to hurt me," she says softly, gently, voice barely above a whisper. She knows he's heard it. "What … what happened here?" Perhaps talking will help bring him out of this blood-lust. Even so, she'll never outrun him, and better to try courage than weakness. Not challenge, because she doesn't stare straight into Marius' eyes. Just … quietness and … the lack of movement. Hopefully, that same stillness won't be mistaken for complete fear and total vulnerability.

The advice is good, when dealing with wild animals. When dealing with vampires that are soaked with blood, however.. and can hear the rushing of blood through veins—not much hope of outrunning one, or resisting should he decide to make the single hop.

Whispered words ring as loudly as shouts in Marius' head in the damp stillness of the night. He takes a step forward, fangs still out and gleaming in the night. The blood-drenched clothing sticks to his body as he takes the slow steps forward, giving no indication if he still suffers from that dangerous blood-lust or if reason returns. Marius retains the blank, death mask.

Pausing in his step as he reaches her side, not to be mistaken for a hesitation, a dark, deep.. almost melodious voice whispers in a harsh German accent comes as he reaches out a blood-stained hand to lift her eyes to his face. "You will leave here… and you have seen… nothing of the events in this area."

Though not as keen as his own, even humans can smell blood in such prodigious amounts. The acrid, metallic oder permeates the air around her, making Desiree slightly sick to her stomach. She hasn't dared look at the body to casually tossed to the ground like so much discarded waste. But she sees enough of it on the creature who comes close to her. Eyes close until she feels the bloodied hand on her chin, lifting her face to his. Eyes widen then, meeting the stony, empty glacial blue of his eyes.

She wants to run. Every fiber of her being tells her the flight or fight of self-preservation is about to kick in. Hands lift as if to ward off an attack, though that will do little good against such a foe. Better to have fought the mountain lion; in that case, she might have by some fluke, survived.

With Marius, she knows she won't.

But then… she's blinking. Not quite sure why she's in this alley. She came to the garage to see Abbey, but … Abbey's not here. She looks up at Marius, as if just noting his presence. "Have you seen Abbey?" she asks, voice more normal in tone. "I was going to ask her to fix my bike, but since she's not here … I guess I'll be going."

As Desiree comes to 'reason', Marius' fangs have retracted, and he begins to turn away, only now looking at the print left behind upon his hand from the silver bullet. It is an annoyance, nothing more—yet another small scar upon him that counts as victories in battle, even if this was against a pathetic breather. Chattel. Used as his destiny was written.

"I have not seen her," is the reply in the accented staccato. "It is a good evening to be indoors, however. Go home, and sleep as is your need."

"Well, dammitall, I missed her," Desiree says, offering a couple more epithets as she turns and makes her way from the alley. It's too early for sleep, but home … yes, that sounds like a good idea. Home before it rains, or the clock strikes midnight. She'll just have to catch Abbey another time.

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