From Prey to Precious

Let the Game Begin

Brian's POV:

I can feel the last rays of the sun slip below the horizon as my eyes open and I find myself once again in the land of the living. I've been awaiting this night with both anticipation and a deep sense of dread. I know that my elder likes to push my buttons. It's like this sick little game that he plays. The worst part is that there's nothing I can do about it except for grumble. He keeps telling me that it's his way of testing my willpower. Ensuring that he can push me to my breaking point and I will have enough strength of will to keep from falling over the edge into madness. Most of the time I feel like he's pushing me towards it rather than trying to save me from it. But truth be told, I am finding myself slower to anger about certain things and given that one impulsive act could break the silence around our world, I can understand why he feels that these exercises are necessary. That doesn't mean that I have to like it though.

I know that tonight is going to be a particularly trying night, so I have to take every precaution to ensure that I don't lose myself. I'll have to face whatever he's had done to my bike in front of a garage full of humans. I have to make sure that I'm as calm as possible before I even set foot into that building. So that means I need to hunt and to feed before I put myself in that situation.

I know that if I go to my normal feeding grounds that the hunt won't be nearly satisfying enough. I have to make this challenging for myself otherwise I know that I won't feel any satisfaction from it. But I also have to ensure that I'm able to accomplish my goal quickly so that I can get over to the shop.

First things first. I have to chose what type of prey I'll be going after tonight. An animal, while safer to hunt, is predictable and no real challenge. A human though, comes with the risk of exposure. But the reward is so much more satisfying. Provided of course that I can pull it off without having to kill my prey.

I don't have any particular qualms about killing humans. But kill too many of them, or unwittingly kill one that is high profile, or worse, a human that belongs to another vampire and I will share the same fate.  

An interesting thought comes to mind as I make my way into the bathroom. Why limit myself to one human tonight? This way I can ensure that I drink my fill, no humans would be in danger of dying and it'll be a challenge to see if I can manage to feed without them even noticing. It's challenging but not too difficult to accomplish and I would have to chose my victims carefully to ensure that they don't notice and that I don't imbibe blood that's been tainted by drugs or too much alcohol. I'll definitely need my mind clear if I'm to deal with whatever Vincent has managed to throw at me this time.

I find myself enjoying the idea more than I thought I would as I splash some hot water on my face and prepare to put on my costume for this evening. I take a swig of mouthwash as I grab my paddle hairbrush and begin working on my hair. Thankfully, even though my hair reaches down to the middle of my back, it's generally easy to style if the occasion calls for it. But rather than going for something that will draw people's attention, I want to try and fade into the background as much as possible. So I grab a black hair tie from the small glass dish on the sink and bind my hair back into a pony tail that sits low on my neck. I think about putting it into a braid but decide to leave the pony tail as it is.

Now it's time to chose my attire for the evening. I've decided that the best place to accomplish my goal tonight is going to be a club and I have the perfect one in mind as I rifle through my dresser for appropriate clothing. Black fishnet shirt, black leather pants, my knee high buckled boots and my black trench coat ought to work nicely. A black leather studded collar and a chain wallet should flush out the costume nicely.

I then go back into the bathroom to add the finishing touches. I put on some black eyeliner, thick enough to be noticeable but not thick enough to look like some reject from The Crow and last but not least, a pair of silver plated vampire fang caps that I slip overtop of my canines.

After I have my costume put together, I take a look at myself in the full length mirror that covers the back of my bathroom door. I have to make sure that I look the part of a twenty something goth kid before I leave and I'm not disappointed with the results.

The fishnet shirt shows off not only my pale skin, but my also draws attention to the tattoos curling over my arms as well as showing off the gleaming silver of my n****e piercings. It does nothing to hide the shape of my body. However it gives the illusion that I'm thin but hides the lines of my well defined abs rather nicely so I appear to not have much in the way of muscle and appear less threatening. The addition of the trench coat goes farther to try and make my fame appear slight and seems to add to the illusion of me being thin but not muscular. The leather pants are nearly unseen against the backdrop of the interior of the trench coat, save for the buckles on my knee high boots. The eyeliner surrounding my seafoam green eyes makes me look more "emo" and less threatening and the silver caps on my real fangs give the perfect cover should someone notice my bite.

Finally satisfied with how I look, I make my way through the house and exit out the back door and into the yard beyond. I debated whether I should take one of my cars, or call a service to get to the club, but decide that it would be better if no one is able to see me arrive or leave. I don't want to leave a trail for anyone to follow. As I walk towards the woods behind the house I close my eyes and concentrate on my body, willing it to change shape.

I feel my body lighten and become more aerodynamic as I take to the sky. I feel the cold wind slicing through my feathers as I climb higher above the trees and surrounding buildings and make my way towards my destination without a care in the world. After all, there's nothing suspicious about a raven flying at night. 

My flight to the club is relatively short and uneventful. But it gives me plenty of time to quiet my mind in preparation for my hunt. As I approach the club I circle the building to assess the best point of entry. It doesn't take long before I find my way in. Behind the building a small group of people are huddled together and a familiar cloud of smoke, mostly smelling of cloves, hovers around there heads. Leave it to the hack pack to leave the door slightly ajar so that when they are done getting their nic fix, they can easily make their way back inside.

However, a raven landing and squeezing his way through the partially open door would most definitely draw attention. So I land behind a nearby parked car and again will my body to change shape. Or to be more precise, to lose it's shape altogether. As I concentrate I feel myself becoming lighter still and spreading out. I can feel the chill in the air but I have no skin of feathers for it to ruffle against. I no longer have keen eyes but I can sense the bodies and objects that I pass over and through as I make my way towards the open door. Luckily the humans are too concerned with inhaling carcinogens to notice a thin wisp of fog making it's way over the cold ground and into the club.

Once I'm inside I no longer have to worry about anyone noticing me in this form as I blend in perfectly with the artificial smoke being belched out by the fog machine. As I slide through the club I look for an out of the way place to resume my humanoid form so that the hunt can begin in earnest. 

It doesn't take me long to find the small hallway that leads to the restrooms. I make my way towards them position myself on the outskirts of the group of people waiting to use the facilities. I wait until I'm sure that none of them are paying attention and I bring my body back to it's humanoid form, looking for all the world as if I've been there the entire time and am just waiting. As a group of women depart from the restroom I immediately fall in a few paces behind them. Once we reach the open space of the club I break off and seemingly make my way towards the bar. All the while I'm looking and the press of bodies on the dance floor to make my selection of prey for the evening.

I manage to complete one circuit of the club and I know have a clear path, and prey, in mind. Unfortunately all the best plans only hold true until the first encounter. As I make my way towards a group of three woman, I feel an arm wind it's way around my waist and I'm hit with a noxious wave of perfume. I look at the woman who is currently trying to wind her body around mine in an attempt to dance and I mentally shrug as I switch targets. Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth. I smile slightly at her, making sure she sees my metal fangs before starting to dance with her. But she seems more interested on just rubbing up against me than actually trying to find a rhythm to the music. Still I give her an encouraging smile as she continues to try to wrap herself around me. The next time she spins around, putting her back against my chest, she raises her arm and throws it over my shoulder as she arches her back. At that point it's a very simple thing to gently draw her arm to my mouth and as she presses against me, to sink my fangs into her flesh and pull the blood from the wound. I feel her shudder against me as the effects of my bite take hold and I only linger long enough to get one good swallow before flicking my tongue over the puncture wounds to close them.

By the time she's turned completely around, to either kiss me or slap me, I've already faded away and am making my way to my next target.  

After about twenty minutes I've completed my lap around the dance floor and managed to feed from four more women and two men and I am pleasantly full.  Although I can see one of the men continuing to scan the dance floor in an attempt to find me and from the look on his face he wants to take me home rather than pummel me into the ground.  Best to make my exit and head over to the garage.

I exit the club the same way that I arrived. First transforming to mist in order to get outside and then to a raven for my flight home. Once I arrive I shift back to my humanoid form and make my way inside to change my clothes and get the eyeliner off my face.

Now clad in a black T-shirt, black jeans and a pair of work boots, my hair in a sensible braid and no trace of eyeliner to be found, I grab my car keys for my black 1967 Chevy Impala and make my way towards Black Widow. The entire way I am only imagining what Vincent has done to my poor bike. I'm sure that he's adjusted the height of the seat, maybe flipped the clutch on the handlebar so that it's backwards, or something equally annoying. I am just dreading the paint job most of all. Knowing Vincent, he'll have painted it sky blue with the characters from Frozen on the gas tank and figured out some way for it to blare that stupid song about building a snow man.

As I pull up to the loading bay of my shop and put the car in park I take a deep breath, making one last attempt to settle myself before I feast my eyes on the disaster that will be my bike. I then take my keys out of the ignition and step out of the car, immediately spotting something underneath a tarp near the loading bay door. I make my way over to the tarp, all the while bracing myself for what will my undoubtedly be the biggest disaster I can imagine.

Just like ripping off a Band-Aid, I figure things like this are best just done quickly to minimize the pain.

As I rip off the tarp and stare at the bike, I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my skull and I may never be able to pick my jaw up off of the floor again.