Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Hunt... Part One[?]

It was an old fashioned party in America. A young girl in a blue dress waved her arms in the air and laughed with glee as she danced across the dance floor doing the Twist. Teenage boys and young men danced with the girls to the music from a band standing on a flimsy stage. A disco ball spun from the ceiling, spraying everyone in sparkling lights. Oh yes, it was, indeed a party.
It was, at least, until three people, two guys and one girl, entered the room. All three were wearing exquisite clothes, obviously made by an excellent tailor. They wore suits that were dark from head to toe, but for an almost black, violet mask that was tied behind their heads under their fedoras and a cravat of the same color. A trench coat with long tails going to their ankles in the back and warm boots completed the look.
The girl wore close to the same, but a couple things were different. Her outfit was as dark as her black, purple-striped hair which was falling to her shoulders. Her shirt looked almost like a spider's web with criss-crossed strands slashed back and forth, and it fell down from her wrists in lacey sleeves. She had a skirt that went to just below her knees, and it was as beautifully and intricately designed as her sark.
She stood next to a man with blue, thunderbolt eyes, whose tar hair spiked from beneath his fedora. The other man had curly, blond hair and stood a bit behind the other two. The man with blue eyes, who seemed to be the leader, glanced at the girl and spoke in a smooth, yet commanding tone, highlighted with an Irish accent, "Well, what a lovely party. It's almost a pity we have to stop it, but then again, I, personally, don't really care very much for parties, especially ones I wasn't invited to."
"Yeah," the girl replied in a bit of a southern American accent, "And let's hope for their sakes that they don't like parties very much either, seeing as we're crashing it an' all."
The man grunted, turned his head to the side, and nodded to the gentleman behind them. "William, if you would?"
"Yes, sir." William bowed slightly, walked around the room to the makeshift stage the band was playing on, stepped up, and took a handgun from his coat which he turned on them. "If you could please shut up, I think things would be a lot less messy, don't you?" His English accent cut through the roar of the music and stopped it abruptly to angry, then alarmed, cries from the crowd. He turned the gun towards them, and the place grew suddenly quiet.
"Well," said the man with the blue eyes from the back of the room. "That went smoothly. Now," he took a step forward, "If I could please have everyone's attention-"
"Attention, please!" cut in the girl "We need everyone's attention right here! Please look this way! Yes, you too, mister! I see you looking over there! Face this way now! Good... Everyone, attention this way! Look at this man here! Bore your eyes into his eyes! Stare at him! Glare directly-" William rolled his eyes, and the man that was previously talking looked back at the girl, "Em, Skyril, I think we've gotten their attention...." She stopped mid-sentence, "Oh..., well if you say so..."
The man cleared his throat a bit, glanced back at the crowd, and continued speaking, "Now, I'd like to know who here goes by the name Mary?" No one said anything. After a moment, his look turned to a glare. "I said, 'Who here goes by the name Mary?'. I know there's a few here..." still no reply and an ominous growl slowly emanated from the man. At this point, Skyril started laughing, almost hysterically, and said, "Ah, sorry, Gepard, but I just couldn't keep up the act." He glared at her. "I'm such a terrible actress, you know!" she winked at him as everyone turned back to Gepard to see his reaction. "Oh," he said, "right."
And Skyril went on, "What we're really here for is the winners of these tickets!" She pulled something from a pocket. "They're tickets to a masquerade and the host of it just pulled the name Mary from a hat, meaning every Mary here gets a free ticket to Le Grand Monte Masquerade and party!" After a moment of silence, someone's hand went up tentatively. "Are you a Mary?" asked Skyril. "Um," the girl said, "No, I just wanted to know what the man with the gun is here for if you're supposedly simply awarding Marys with free tickets."
"Oh, William? Haha, don't worry about him. It was a prank I couldn't resist pulling on you folks. I'm such a prankster!" She still looked doubtful so Skyril went on, "It's not even a real gun, actually." She turned her gaze to him. "You should probably put that away now." William had a thing against orders from girls so his eyes darted to Gepard, who had fallen into the shadows and was circling the room. A small nod got him to put it back into it's holster under his coat.
"See?" Skyril went on. "Now, we checked out who was invited to this party and we saw 3 Marys on the list- Mary Butcher, Mary Rouse, and Mary Slaughter."

Gepard knew it was she the moment he saw her. Her pale face, the way she held herself, and the way she walked all gave it away. He would have known she was one of them even if he hadn't been searching for her for the last few weeks. She wasn't very good at blending in with a crowd, to say the least. It wasn't much of a challenge, but at least she was here.
Gepard needed this girl. She had very important information, and he was going to get it. He remembered when he first heard about her. He had almost died just uncovering her name, but he hadn't. He'd been saved and made a useful alliance because if it.
He glanced at Skyril. She was still putting on her little charade with elegant words and gestures. That girl often leaped before testing the water, but she knew how to pull herself out..., most of the time, anyway. When Gepard realized that she was giving him a nice distraction on this particular occasion, he'd slunk into the shadows and began circling the crowd as everyone looked to her.
Now he'd found whom he was looking for, and he decided now was the time to throw his die and make his move. He knew Skyril didn't particularly like talking in front of crowds or being the center of attention so it was doubtful she'd continue her speech for very much longer.
He would capture the one Mary Skyril had intentionally not mentioned- the vampire, Miss Mary Mayfield.


"So, you three lucky lasses, if you could come up here I'll award you with your prize tickets!" Skyril said with a smile and a theatrical flourish. She saw Gepard in the back of the room leading a woman through a door. Well, "leading" might be too soft of a word, Skyril thought. It was more like, "forcing," what with one hand clutching her neck in a tight grip and the other holding a wooden stake he must have taken from the inside of his trench coat where it was concealed. William was slinking off the stage to follow him.
But all eyes were on Skyril and the young girl who had just come up to say, "My name's Mary Butcher and I'd like my ticket now, please."
"Certainly!" chirped Skyril. "I give to you, our first Mary, a ticket to Le Grand Monte Masqerade!"
Skyril, her brilliant smile still in place, handed her one of the three and went on, "The place, date, and time are right on there! Don't forget your mask!"
With a slightly disbelieving expression on her face, Mary Butcher looked down at the ticket. She turned back to the crowd, glanced up, shrugged, and said, "Looks real to me!" A small cheer went up and the other two Marys appeared in quick succession.
Skyril rewarded them with their tickets. As they returned to the crowd, Skyril said "Well, I must now apologize for interrupting your party! Please, continue and have fun! Adieu! I hope you Marys will have a lovely time at the masquerade!" The band started up again and Skyril slipped out the front door before anyone could ask any questions about the fictitious Monte Masquerade.
The glare from the falling sun caught her off guard for a moment, but she shielded her eyes to wait for them to adjust. Autumn was setting in with alarming ferocity, and the chill air bit at Skyril. She didn't mind it, though. In fact, she quite loved it. She spread her arms wide, sucked in that lovely smell that springs from the leaves in this season, and did a little joyful spin.
Sadly, she knew she had to get back to work.
So, onward she went to the abandoned warehouse across the street where William was leaning against the wall, waiting outside for her, as instructed by Gepard. "You took long enough," said William with a sigh. Skyril laughed, replying sarcastically, "Oh, I'm so sorry for making you wait out here in the cold! Haha! I know you love autumn as much as I do!" she poked him. "Stop pretending to be perturbed."
Nothing but an annoyed grunt came from the English man so Skyril stuck her tongue out at him and walked by into the warehouse. He went to follow, but she told him to wait outside. He was angered further to be ordered around by a girl, but did as she commanded nonetheless. Skyril knew Gepard well enough to know he wouldn't want any unnecessary people around during the questioning, especially William, since he was only working for them for money and in hopes of finding the vampire that had killed someone close to him in the past.
When she entered the building, musk filled her nostrils instead of the pleasant scent outside. The place was dim, but she could find her way well enough before her eyes adjusted further. She walked up the cement steps in the corner. The sight that greeted her when she got up there was Gepard standing in front of Mary Mayfield who was tightly bound to a chair.


"I warn you, this will be the last time I ask nicely. Things will get most unpleasant if you continue this charade of ignorance." said Gepard, his voice low and dangerous. Mary sat in her seat, arms yanked behind her and bound to the chair. More ropes and even a chain wrapped around her waste and legs, rendering her movement to the barest shift. Tears leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks in streams, and the mascara she'd been wearing was completely smeared. Gepard went on, "Where. Is. Malcolm. Reaper?"
"I told you! I told you!" she shrieked, her voice high pitched.  "I don't knooooow! I don't know who you're talking abooooouuut!" Gepard sighed and walked to the side of the room where his wooden stakes, his broadsword, and a small, sharp dagger lay carefully on the floor. Skyril was leaning against the wall and watching with an expressionless face. She leaned over to Gepard and whispered, "Are you sure this is the right girl?"
"Yes!" he snapped, "I'm certain, alright?"
"Okay, okay..." she backed off for a second, then leaned back over. "But is this absolutely necessary? I mean... the torture and all?"
Gepard sighed. "She's obviously not going to talk without a bit of help, so I'm going to provide some for her." Skyril couldn't detect any hesitation in his voice. "Look," he went on. "She's a vampire and her name is Mary Mayfield. I'm certain about that. Somehow, I doubt there are two vampires that identical, which means she's the one we're looking for, which means she knows where Malcolm Reaper is or at least the last place he was, which means we can find him, which means we can interrogate him, which means he can lead us to Dusk, which is exactly what I want. That's what you want, right, to get rid of Dusk?"
Skyril shuffled her feet. "Well..., yeah..."
"Alright then. Now please stop questioning me and let me do what I do... The door's right there if you want to leave."
"Oh," said a voice that wasn't Skyril's or Gepard's, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere until I drink my fill from the both of you." Gepard spun around. The chair Mary had been occupying was empty; the ropes that had bound her, broken. Gepard cursed and grabbed two wooden stakes, one in each hand. Skyril took a large dagger from it's sheath by her hip where it had been hidden under her coat and stood at the ready. She whispered to Gepard, "Um, sorry."
"Not your fault" He mumbled and took a step forward, eyes searching the shadows.
The girl couldn't be seen. She must have leaped behind a broken machine or swung up onto the pipes running underneath the ceiling. A flash of white overhead and a fun-filled laugh were the only signs she was even there. Gepard and Skyril looked back and forth, trying to spot her.
Mary dropped from the ceiling in front of them. Her tears were gone and were replace by a malicious grin. "Y'all didn't even notice the sun going down, did you? How pathetic."
Gepard snarled and pushed at the air, but she was already gone, leaping backwards and landing perfectly on a pipe above. It was obviously inhuman. Her hands went to her skull, and she shirked her flesh, revealing the slimy white beast beneath. Its eyes were black, its breath reeked of old blood, and its fangs were yellow.
It fell down to the ground from the pipe and glared at Gepard as it growled and walked around him. Gepard watched and stood still, not daring to move, for he knew this was not yet the time to attack. A drop of sweat formed on his brow and slid down to his blue eye. He blink. A roar came from the vampire, and it leaped.
Skyril closed her eyes and took its sight; Gepard leaped to the side and rolled to a knee. The vampire shook his head and roared again, but sightlessness only paused it for a moment. It could smell its pray, and it loped for Skyril. A yelp came from her, and she stumbled to the side, the vampire's claw raking against her arm, bruising it painfully, but not slicing the skin thanks to Ghastly's clothing. However, it wasn't done with her yet. It leaped on top of her and barred it's fangs. Gepard sprung towards it, electric bolts wrapping around the stakes in his hands, and brought them down on the back of the beast.
Can a monster shriek? Skyril found out that day that they can, indeed, and it's terrible. The vampire, once, so many years ago a simple country girl named Mary Mayfield, screamed as the stakes sunk in and the electric bolts coursed through its body. For a moment or two it bucked and thrashed, trying to get Gepard off. He hung on viciously for several seconds but was finally tossed off by the wild thing. It turned and roared in his face, saliva splattering everywhere, and sprang away again onto the the pipes above, blood seeping and dripping from its wounds.
Those wounds. though, were mortal, and it fell off again a  moment later after slipping on its own blood. It landed hard and writhed in pain. Gepard stood and watched it for a second. Skyril was standing to the side, gasping slightly. Her face was stricken with sad confusion, not knowing what to do with the agonized monster. Gepard walked back slowly and picked up his sword. He returned to the vampire, and he finished it off, relieving it of the pain it would have had to endure in the last minutes of life.
He and Skyril stood still for a moment, she in slightly stunned silence and he regretting having to kill the beast without getting the information  beforehand. He wiped off the sword and walked past Skyril to the stairs. On the first step he muttered. "Come on," and left without checking if she was following. Skyril sheathed her dagger, expression changing from one close to sadness to one of resigned and regretless.She went down the stairs.
When they exited, William  looked up from where he leaned against the wall and asked "Did you get what we needed?"
Skyril glanced at Gepard who was standing in front of her. "No," he said. "We're back where we started. In fact, we're even worse than when we started because we have no leads and the trail is cold!" William frowned, deciding not to reply. After a moment, Gepard walked away, speaking over his shoulder, "Skyril and I are going to base. You clean up the mess and meet us there."

I drew a drawing of Gepard and Skyril :P
I tried to draw the vampire, but I really just couldn't.
Oh, and know the clothing isn't right, but I can't draw cravats or skirts O.o
I suppose the one with Gepard is right before Mary the vampire leaped at him.
And the one of Skyril, I suppose, is when she's taking the vampire's sight. 
Pretty much the only thing I'm comfortable with these is the hair xP

Hope you enjoyed the story! Um... I don't know when I'll get back to it [if ever]. I've got so many things I need to write right now xD
And plus, a lot of this poofed in my head when I started writing, and I don't have anything past this. So I wouldn't really know how to continue it...

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

July Birthday Part 5/8ths

Happy birthday guys! So only Hellboy and Niall among the five of you told me to post this ahead of time, but I couldn't get a hold of the rest of you, no matter my extreme efforts, [eyes them crazilly] then a fellow with a mustache came up to me and told me he was not Niall, his birthday was in July, and he wanted me to post it. So what could I possibly do but post, I ask? Besides, the Queen ordered it. This was necessary. ~nods~
So enjoy! :D

Lithia Rancor delicately placed a miniature Reese's cup on the exact center of her tongue, sealing it in behind her lips. She glanced back through the grate separating her from most of her quintessence. Bags and bags of bags filled with miniature Reese's cups occupied every available space. The edge of her darkened mouth curled up in a smile of near drunken debauchery. She popped another one into her mouth before turning her focus back to driving as the red light ahead blinked to green.
It was about time her guests had gotten out, so she figured she'd best get back home to greet them. She very much hoped they had enjoyed the little surprises she'd left with them, seeing as she did put much time and thought into each one. Although, one was yet to be sprung, Lithia knew it wouldn't likely be very long now. By the time she got home, in fact, the group of them would surely have taken care of that little fellow. 
She momentarily pondered if any of her guests would be seriously injured when she arrived, but discarded the thought after a moment. The surprises she had set up were to be difficult, but not life threatening. Besides, it would be quite unacceptable if they were hurt badly, for then she'd not have the pleasure of revealing her motives and plans of their imminent demise through her genius plot to a coherent bunch, as all good villains must do before killing their victims off.
Villain, you ask? Yes, well, Lithia didn't actually consider herself a villain, but the deeds she was deviously doing were rather villainous, so perhaps she was one after all, and she was never necessarily one of the good guys on the nice side, anyway. She almost shrugged, but decided that would be a waste of energy that she could better use plopping a Reese's into her mouth.
No, she was not on the Sancutary's side. After all, most of her victi- I mean guests were on the side of the light, and that would do her no good. The good side wasn't all that good anyway so why not join the dark side? The dark side has Reese's cups!
The more she thought about her plans the more her red eyes sparkled. Lithia just couldn't wait to set her final plans into motion! Indeed, this was going to be the equivalent of what most people called "fun."