Death by Shoe (Vincent)

[AKREE]

Dark gray buildings looming over busy streets, the continuous honking of cars and the obnoxious chatter of our dear night population, what a masterpiece. A slice of the moon standing among the little starts you could see in this part of London, beginning to wonder whether it was all those neon lights from the signs and letters in each building really did so much damage to the night ambiance, of course all this pondering was because I was simply bored. My eyes seemed to uneasily flick from side to side looking from one simple object to another that was how bored I was; hoping a small something would catch my attention. Really now, I was starting to get impatient, maybe even some tiny sliver of something that will catch my attention if only for a few measly seconds?

…

I guess not.

I sighted a bit more, again out of boredom. I was on the very top of one of those many buildings, yes the roof, that’s what I’m talking about, bored as hell with my legs dangling from the edge. Yes, I got here in the first place out of boredom and for another reason, other than enjoying the view and pondering about life’s stupidities. Yes another reason, but more about that later. I figured the head of a very organized mafia (not to add powerful) would have something more interesting to do, like attend to his work, but truth be told that could be such a bore I just needed something different to do, so what did said boss did? Drag his underboss with him, that’s what. Now you’re probably wondering what cruel task I have poor Vince doing, none of that. I probably should have him doing something, but bah, what are friends for? More especially what are bosses who pay for the friend’s salary supposed to do? What indeed? Well of course I would drag Vince into my world of boredom, which was what I was doing here in the first place. Still, not exactly… productive I must say.

I forced my eyes to look again below me, begging for something interesting to happen; even a random bystander getting run over by a car would amuse me. Yet nothing happened, damn I wonder what would happen if I got down there and started shooting, I bet that would get someone’s attention. I found myself wondering if dropping a show from this height would kill someone… or at least wound them. Well, only one way to find out…

“Are you alive over there, Vinnie-the-pooh? Over.” I said, reaching a hand to my ear where my earphone was, I believed it was a reasonable question, he hadn’t said a word for a while. Oh, and in case you hadn’t figured it out, what I had in my ear was one of those neat and expensive walkie-talkies; of course it was neat and expensive I was bloody rich. Now I just had to wait for dear Vince to answer… let’s hope he wouldn’t take long… talking about Vince from my vantage point I could catch hide nor hair of him, where the hell was he? I scanned the roofs of the many buildings and the street below me and I couldn’t catch site of the familiar lanky figure that was my annoyable underboss.

Though I could ask him where he was and threaten his salary if he didn’t, that would be amusing, though ol’ Vince hated it. Which is why it amused me. Turning back to the street, I began wondering if a shoe from this height would kill someone, ahahhaha that would amuse me, death by shoe. Gravity could be such an amusing force sometimes.

Just as I pondered just that I heard a squeal of wheels, I turned my eyes down. A car was rushing past the streets at full speed, its wheels squealed to a stop as it turned a sharp corner, almost running into a little girl, the mother let out a horrible screech that made me feel sorry for those near the scene, poor suckers, they would be deaf now. Then came the familiar sound, the sirens of a cop car. Ooooh, looks like our little girl squasher is being followed by the police that would explain his hurry. Scenes like this weren’t uncommon in London, but for some reasons reporters thought it was a once in a lifetime event to catch squashed girls and runaway cars ‘cause I caught the familiar sudden flash of light from a camera. The car squealed into life again and rushed away, the cop car and more screeches from moms and almost-squashed girls following it whenever it went. I wonder when one of those almost-squashed girls would become squashed girls. Which would amuse me.

I chuckled as the car sped away, wondering what the poor idiot did to get the cops following him. Either way after a little while the crowd settled down and it was back to their lovely busy lives. And people wonder why I like London. Well to bad for the poor suckers who don’t get my logic. This is a great city for any organized group of criminals like my lovely group. Now that I was thinking about that, I still needed to talk to Vince… about the extremely important matter of killing someone with a shoe. Guess that I’d have to wait for him to answer my last message first…

Good thing I was patient.

Now I needed something to ponder about. Well… come on Damien get that gray matter working. Ah damn, I just remembered one of the dealers got killed, stupid drug dealers could be way to stupid for my taste, now I needed to replace him or her… how the hell was I supposed to know? Damn, more paperwork for me, damn I hate papers, unless they come in the shape of money. Now that paper I did like, after all it was just paying for my entertainment. Anyways… I’d get Vince to do that, I guess it just gave him a sense of… superiorness doing that, I am aware that that’s not a word, but I’m rich and I can kill and torture your parents, so I suggest you keep quiet about it. Yeah, let Vince choose the new dealer, he’d adore that. I mean I could just see his eyes rolling if he would be to hear my thoughts.

Yeah, definitely something to see.

((Rofl, okok I started it, rofl WALKIETALKIESOFDOOM anywhose... didn't know if u started it already but since u didn't post...rofl))

[DODES]

Today I have learnt a very important lesson—when choosing a vehicle to steal, choose wisely.

I suppose with all my years of hotwiring, I was beginning to get a bit complacent—you know, a bit careless. I didn’t consider that perhaps the owner of the particular car I’d been hotwiring could be in viewing range of his vehicle as I broke into it. And I also didn’t really consider that he could have phoned the authorities as I pulled away with his car.

But lucky me, that is in fact what had taken place—all because I had been a little careless. So now, here I was, cops on my tail and driving much too fast and much too recklessly just to lose them. It wasn’t the dangerous driving that I minded—in fact, I rather enjoyed it—but it was just the police trailing me that I was concerned about. With the driving experience I’ve had, I could most likely lose them, no problemo, but no one said it was going to be easy...

Ah hell, who was I kidding? I was lovin’ it. Before all this had happened, I was as bored as hell, and this had just added some zest into my evening. The cops behind me were of hardly any concern. They had simply made my hotwiring extravaganza all the more interesting. I didn’t want losing them to be easy—what fun would that be? Nah, I wanted to nearly run over pedestrians as I drove over the sidewalk and be inches away from crashing into buildings. Now if that didn’t amuse me, I don’t know what will. It was especially more enjoyable because of all the people that were active during the night. Most of them had to move their ass out of the way, or else I would have run them right over. Like hell I was about to give pedestrians the right away whilst I had police trailing me.

Damn, I wish this thing could go faster, but at the moment I was too preoccupied with swerving between parked and slower moving vehicles (main reason why I was veering off onto the sidewalk, by the way) to be accelerating anymore than I already was. It took much more concentration to drive like a maniac than you would think.

And just in time to break my concentration, there was Damien, him and his staticky voice as he spoke through that walkie talkie of his... Could he have picked a worse time? “Are you alive over there, Vinnie-the-pooh? Over.” Heh, calling me Vinnie the Pooh are we, Damien? Well, that’ll come right back at you. Just my luck, though, the car literally flew over this big ass hill, and the impact of the landing had jarred that walkie talkie earpiece right from me—and it didn’t do much good for my tailbone, either... or the car itself, for that matter. Hopefully the alleged owner of the car wasn’t expecting it back in the condition it was before, because he would surely be disappointed... Hah, poor sucker.

I supposed that, between my dodging of collisions, I should give Damien a call back, or else he’d be wondering what I was doing, and knowing Damien, he’d most likely jump to the worst conclusions... So just to avoid all that, I better find that walkie talkie thing... Now how I was going to do that was a completely different story altogether. I guessed I better start off with removing my right hand from the steering wheel and feel around for it on the car floor as I tried to keep my eyes on the road and steer at the same time. Fuck, multitasking was much harder than people made it out to be. And goddamn it, why did they have to make these things so goddamn small? Did they not consider that maybe someone would lose it and have to feel around for it while driving? Nah, they just wanted to make our lives difficult... plus if it were any bigger, it most likely wouldn’t be able to fit in anyone’s ear... except maybe big foot’s...

Oh shit. There’s a dead end coming up here... I have to either, a) make a quick, sharp turn that will surely have the tires squealing and endanger the lives of many as I drove onto the sidewalk, b) brake or c) crash right into that building... I think the right choice was pretty obvious here. It was a) make a quick, sharp turn that will surely have the tires squealing and endanger the lives of many as I drove onto the sidewalk. Yes, definitely the right choice here.

So I did just that, and in the process I had nearly run over child—a girl it looked like, but I barely had time to look—as I sped away. Actually, scratch that. I don’t think I had ran her over because I would have felt this jarring bump, but I must have just missed her—although I did hear a women’s horrendous screech over the squealing of tires and sirens, which just confirmed my theory of ‘just missing her’. Stupid kid. She should learn to move her ass out of the way when an out of control vehicle rolls onto the sidewalk.

Anyway... where was I? Oh right, getting that walkie talkie thing... Luckily, after that near crash, I had somehow managed to find it and I shoved that damn thing back into my ear, assuring it would stay in place and straightening my position in the seat. “A bit busy ‘ere, Demon Child,” I muttered as I drove, wanting to tell him that this wasn’t the best of times, but going with the ‘nicer’ way of saying it. I’m fairly sure he could hear the sirens and draw his own conclusions, but just as I was about to say ‘over’, I swear to God this huge building jumped out in front of me. I seriously did not see that five seconds ago... anyway, it was coming up real fast, and the only way I could avoid it without braking was to do this sharp turn to the right, which caused a high pitched squeal of the tires from the burning rubber... I bet that left a big ass black tire mark on the pavement... and I swear to God I was about to fishtail right into that building. In my panic, I had shouted aloud, “Vall... v’ALL!” Then a few seconds later, when I had somehow managed to just scrape past that building, I mutter in relief, “Okay, ve’re good. Over.”

Man, if I still had a beating heart, I think I would have had a heart attack just there, but it was so... AWESOME. It was like those roller coasters when I was a little kid... you just wanted to do it over and over again, and man, I wanted to do that again, but knowing my luck, I’d most likely screw it all up the second time and end up crashing somehow... And although it may be amusing, the whole ‘crashing’ part wasn’t exactly something I was looking forward to. Nearly crashing was good enough for me, thanks.

Rofl, good choice you made there, Akree, cause I didn't even start one last night. And it turns out, yer post gave me a good idea! rofl.

PS: NOOOOO. NOT THE ACCENT. rofl, but I had to do it, man... but y'know, lighter, Swiss German accent this time. Bahahah.. wait till he says something that starts with a th... rooofl

[AKREE]

A bear, glistening red in the low light looked down at the city, eyes narrowed against the glare of the neon lights, it wasn’t familiar with this territory, so high up, looking down at the streets below. It was too high up for comfort, it felt uncomfortable here, and it didn’t belong here. It was uneasy, it would have grunted if it could, but of course, it couldn’t. It just settled with starring down at the street, watching the tiny specs that were humans, walking and going on with their lives, it was normal after all. It being here wasn’t. The prickling feeling of eyes in your back was there, it was being watched, but by who? It would have grunted, turned around, and smelled the air, if it could. Right when it thought it was near, once it thought it was watching it, it couldn’t take it anymore. But it couldn’t move, it was maybe afraid to move, a bear, afraid? Oh, yes. But when it decided it had enough it was too late. Teeth sunk into its throat, not a chance to even cry out if it could, not even the hope of it. Not even the thought of it. Just like that its pathetic life faded from its body.

Gummy bears are so amusing.

Not to mention tasty.

No, there wasn’t an actual bear in London suffering a cruel death in the jaws of a predator far more skillful. Nothing of the kind, it was just overly serious Damien playing with his food, because overly serious Damien was bored, bored as hell. Bored as bored can be. Oh, and hungry, Damien was hungry to. See? I can be amusing when I want, just… people rarely get to see that side, guess I’m just a loner, don’t like being with anyone, prefer to keep to myself. Now, I know what you’re wondering, what’s a vampire eating gummy bears? Well, elementary my dear Watson, I’m hungry and I happen to like thoroughly biting the head off gummy bears, it was just some sadistic part of me that liked it very much. It wasn’t as amusing as killing an actual human, but it was just some playful, childish part of me that enjoyed gummy bears and the violence that came out of such a colorful candy. Now, I know what you’re wondering again, what is a vampire mob boss eating gummy bears? Well then, if you don’t like it, will you like me to do that to you? No, I didn’t think so. So I suggest you shut the fuck up.

Now, now, I do know that eating a lot of these delicious German cuisines will have me sick for a good while, but I was old enough to take care of myself. Either way if I got really horribly bad I’ll just make myself a nuisance on Vince. It was nice to know there was actually someone I could make myself a nuisance in the first place, a real comforting thought there. Even if Vince would probably strongly disagree there with me, but I’m his boss… so he better take care of sick little ol’ me… else… well… that is just to sad to think about… so I won’t.

Moving on.

I picked another gummy bear from my pocket; this one was green, bit its head off then stuffed the rest in my mouth. I do like my gummies. I looked around the street below, the sirens and squeals of the car could still be heard, but since I had good hearing I paid no mind to it, they were probably a couple of blocks away. Now, I wonder where Vince was, haven’t heard from him in a big while… wondering… wondering… doesn’t like what he’s picturing… ok just call Vince again.

I opened my mouth to say something when the police sirens came to my ear, sounding staticky, followed by the squealing of tires just as the car I mentioned earlier almost squished the girl…

Oh, God…

Of course, why didn’t I guess before?

“A bit busy ‘ere, Demon Child,” came Vince’s voice. I paused, let him get comfortable. No reason to bother him, with my next words you had to make the timing just right. “Turn around; you missed the girl, Vinnie-the-pooh. Over.” I used ‘Vinnie-the-pooh’ out of teasing, how I hated when Vince called me… that, it brought to many unwanted memories rushing back to view, like I was looking at a movie screen and I didn’t want them there, they had no right to be there in the fist place. I sounded bored and indifferent, like I always did, which was good. Didn’t want to let Vince that he was bothering me in the first place. “Why didn’t I guess you were the arse driving that thing in the first place?” I wondered out loud, mostly to myself, which is why I didn’t bother with the ‘over’.

I should have figured leaving Vince alone was bad; he’s always getting in trouble. You’d think being an underboss of the mafia would have him a bit more in line, cautious; of course he just loved mischief to much. Much in the same way I enjoyed killing and torture to much to keep away from it, but bah, I cleaned up my act and made sure nothing of it goes public. Damn, Vince should know better than to drag his arse in total attention of the cops, what if it got somewhere with those damned reporters. Sigh. Better tell him to make sure he knows what he’s doing, but not now. Now I was in the process of lighting a cigarette, so I wouldn’t bother talking to a while. I trusted Vince enough to watch over his own arse, I would look after his if it got to the courtroom, either way his criminal record suddenly disappeared one day, just like that. Basically this was his first crime, money has so many uses. Like saving your underboss’s arse every now and then. You’d think he’d learn, but of course I bet Vince was never an apt student.

“Vall... v’ALL!” I heard his voice come, followed by the screeching of tires. Poor bastard, what I’d do now? I mean… guess I should be… worried, he wasn’t my underboss which I so obviously trusted, he was my friend to. I’d show how worried I was by taking a drag out of my cigarette and dismembering another gummy bear. Yep, I was obviously worried, in fact scratch that I was mourning. “Okay, ve’re good. Over.”

I watched the tendrils of white smoke disappear into oblivion.

“I’m hungry; you want to accompany me for a bite, later? Over.” I muttered into the `talkie, just to show Vince how mortally worried I was. Knowing him he was enjoying every second of it. No use worrying if your good pal was enjoying himself now was there? No, of course not, this is why I was relaxed. Besides Vince was old enough to know he couldn’t be caught by our lovely local press or do something stupid and kill himself, because I would most definitely kick his arse if he died. No, that bastard couldn’t die or I would shoot his arse off.

I yawned, to bad for me it was summer and no distinguishing cloudish breathe appeared. You know what was missing in the boring night? Rain, it normally rained in summer, like every summer night, why wasn’t it raining right now? Just on cue I heard the rumbling of thunder. Damn, me and my big mouth. I wrinkled my nose smelling the moisture in the air; it was definitely going to rain. Fuck rain I wasn’t moving my arse from here, I was comfortable enough, a little rain wouldn’t kill me and lighting would just tickle. Heh…hehheheheh ticklish lighting. Good thing my thoughts didn’t show on my face, else I’d have this moronic smile right about now…

((rofl GUMMY BEARS))

[DODES]

You know what I could really use right now?

A gigantic ramp. If I just had one of those, I could drive the car right over it and be literally airborne... at least, for a few seconds until the most likely painful landing. But what did I have to be concerned about? I’m a vampire, for God’s sakes. Even though it may hurt, I could hardly do any lasting damage. Any injury that would be caused could easily be repaired with a jumbo serving of blood. One of the few many benefits of being a vampire was the fact that you were able to heal quickly. I most likely wouldn’t be in this high speed chase if I didn’t have that asset... don’t take my word for that, though. I’ve been a notorious adrenaline junkie. I’d do just about anything to get that rush, if you know what I mean. It seemed to be harder and harder to get these days, though. I’ve had to do riskier and riskier stunts... like the happenings taking place now, for instance.

Anyway, point is, having a gigantic ramp would be fucking awesome. Considering my vampirism and all, there was nothing holding me back. The only trouble was having to find/build one of those ramps I was speaking of... but I’d cross that bridge when I needed to... preferably when Damien wasn’t holding a conversation with me over a walkie talkie. It wasn’t that I didn’t think these talkies were nifty and all... because they were... but there were some things I just didn’t need Damien to find out about. I didn’t really know why... most likely because the only reaction I’d get was being called a fucking idiot or whatever intelligent-sounding term he had for that. And you know, I didn’t want to give him another reason to think I was a fucking idiot. He had too many already and it made me wonder if I really was one... Then again, why would Damien have a fucking idiot as an underboss? Made you wonder, didn’t it?

Anyway, I’d just wait for a later date, when I knew Damien was busy with... something or other. But knowing me, though, I’d just tell him all about it anyway... Really, why was I giving this whole ramp thing this much thought? I was only going to fly off a fucking ramp with a goddamn car. Not that big of a deal, really.

“Turn around; you missed the girl, Vinnie-the-pooh. Over,” Damien said over the walkie, sounding like his usual, apathetic self, which confused me for a moment. As far as I knew, I wasn’t anywhere near Damien right now, let alone in viewing distance. But else how could he have known that just seconds earlier I had nearly ploughed through a child? He must be around someplace—where, I wasn’t exactly sure, but somewhere. “So you saw dat, eh? Over.” I replied after I had considered it for a moment or two. Then—ah shit, there goes the side view mirror. It had been literally torn off as I drove a bit too close to another parked vehicle, though I really could care less about it. It wasn’t my car to be concerned about, first of all, and secondly, I wasn’t even using that mirror. The only one I needed was the rear view, which I only used to check on how the cops were doing in keeping up with me. Not so good, it seemed.

I slowed a bit. I figured that if Damien was bothering to use the walkie talkies to talk with me, he must want something, meaning that I would have to wrap this whole running-from-cops situation real quick, and I had an idea that would get them off my back. It would involve completely totalling the car, but as I have said many times before, it wasn’t mine in the first place. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about it.

“Why didn’t I guess you were the arse driving that thing in the first place?” Heh, arse. It always amused me when he said that, and I chuckled slightly, giving one of those small heh’s aloud. I had noted that he didn’t say ‘over’ in his last statement, but I replied anyway, even though I was a bit distracted. “Vho knows, Dammy Boy. F’ought you vould know me better by now. Over.” I noticed awhile ago that whenever I spoke quickly, which I did on a daily basis, my accent always seemed more pronounced, like now, for instance. It wasn’t of much concern to me, really—I wasn’t about to lose my accent just because my English sounded a bit odd, though I was a bit curious to know if others noticed it as much as I did. Then again, I was always noticing stupid, pointless things like that...

Man, I should really stop thinking so much. All those thoughts running through my head drew me away from what I was doing, which was driving about 100mph on a crowded street, and it had nearly gotten me a pleasant hello from the wall of a building—and by pleasant hello, I mean nearly crashing into. What was that—the fourteenth or fifteenth time I had done that this evening? I seemed to have lost count.

Despite my slightly panicked shouts over the walkie, Damien hardly seemed fazed when he spoke. It made me wonder if he actually ever does worry about me, or if he knows I can hold my own and there’s really no need for him to worry... Eh, I’m sure it was the second option. That one sounded better. “I’m hungry; you want to accompany me for a bite, later? Over.” Now that he mentioned it, I was a bit peckish. I hadn’t eaten since I’d woken up that evening, and who knows what time it is now. “Yea, ‘old on a minute, vouldja?” I was driving back onto that street I had nearly ran that girl over on. I figured Damien had to be around there someplace, and since I hardly felt like walking, I may as well just drive myself over there while I still was in a vehicle, because I wouldn’t be in a moment or two. I had conjured up one of those good ol’ plans of mine to lose these cops, and of course, it involved totalling the car I had stolen.

Once I thought I was on that particular street—I wasn’t exactly sure which it was. I had been moving a bit too quickly to be reading any street signs, but it seemed familiar... Anyway, once I thought I was on that street with the cops still following—they weren’t far behind me now, since I had slowed a considerable amount from my previous speed... Anyway, once I was on that street with the cops following, I braked suddenly, pulling to a complete stop and hoping that the police wouldn’t have time to react and simply crash right into me. They didn’t have much swerving room, since I had purposely braked in a spot where there were vehicles parked on either side, causing the street to have limited driving space, and therefore limited chances to dodge the impending collision. It didn’t have to be this car they crashed into—just something to divert their attention.

Turns out, though, it was just my luck that they had slammed right into the back of the vehicle I was in, jarring me forward a few feet, which caused my head to ram right into the steering wheel because of my lack of a seatbelt. Oh, well, that was perfect... I couldn’t dwell on that little misfortune for long, however, because I needed to get the hell out of that car if I wanted any of my devious plan to work. The cops would now be too disorientated to notice me leaving... Well, hopefully they would be after that collision... Actually, hopefully their heads had hit their steering wheel... or maybe the windshield... yeah, that would be even better. The glass would be all cracked with blood splattered across it... hah. Unfortunately, I hardly had time to look because I got my ass right out of that car as soon as possible. I knew the police probably wouldn’t see me depart the scene, but the pedestrians that were giving me the eyeball right now... well, they were a different story entirely. I actually didn’t give a rat’s ass about them, though. I’d be long gone before they had the chance to call for help. In fact, I was already half-jogging, half-speed walking away as we speak. As I did so, I also looked about casually for Damien, but among the many faces that had gathered in that short amount of time, none were his.

He wasn’t going to make this easy, was he? My head was aching from that whole head-hitting-the-steering-wheel-because-I-wasn’t-exactly-wearing-a-seatbelt thing and I was definitely not feeling in the ‘let’s find out where Damien is hiding’ mood.

Of course, I hadn’t thought of looking up, or else I might have seen him as a little speck on that skyscraper-ish building over there.

Nope, didn’t think of that, of course, so instead I said through the walkie, “Never mind dat crash you just heard. I’m just fine.” As you can see, I had purposely left out the bit about my head smacking that steering wheel. That wasn’t a big deal, anyway. “So vhere might you be hiding? Over,” I continued before he had the chance to respond to that last thing I said. I hadn’t really expected him to reply to that, anyway.

...

Was that thunder I heard just now? Oh, well, that was perfect, too. Right when I get rid of that car, it threatens to rain. I really wouldn’t mind the rain so much if it didn’t completely drench my clothes all the time... I hated how they clung to my skin once they were wet. Damien really better tell me where he is so we can get this show on the road here. Standing aimlessly in the pouring rain really wasn’t my cup of tea, if you know what I mean.

ROOOFL. Wow, I was right. The big font /does/ look stupid. BAHAHAHAHAHAH.

[AKREE]

You know what’s sad?

No, of course you don’t I don’t even know what I’m asking you anyways. Well, you know Vince? Yes, my dear underboss Vincent Fromm. I just realized that he’s not only my only friend, currently, but my first one. That was depressing, here I was a vampire, mob boss and probably the richest vampire in London and the only person I trusted and befriended was down there, with cops up to his arse and driving over 100 miles per hour. He was over there, a high chance of doing something stupid –knowing Vince- and getting killed; you’d think I’d be more worried. You’d think I’d show more concern for his well being, but I barely gave a rat’s arse about that. Now, Damien, don’t say that. I did give a rat’s ass about Vince, I was pretty sure that if someone other than me threatened his life I would be worried and probably shove an army tank up their arse for messing with Vince. It was just… well Vince had experience with this kind of crap and he was fairly a good driver… yes, let us blame my lack of care towards that. I trusted Vince to keep his arse safe and get it back home. Of course I did, Vince did his job as an Underboss and I must say he did it rather well. Sure he probably didn’t get the hottest grades in school, sure he could be a hothead sometimes, sure he could be an idiot sometimes. But most times he got the job done, Vince was a smart fella, he probably could have gotten better grades in school if he ever decided to study, bit he knew his way with a gun and money. He was apt enough in my opinion to hold the rank he did.

He just had a problem with squishing children, that’s all.

Any guy with a problem with killing people was fine by my book. In fact more than fine. Vince was a good pal to have around in my opinion, which is reason enough to be getting the kind of salary he has. Still, he recklessness bothered me, he should be more careful, what if someone got a picture of him? What if they send it to the press? Vince worked with blood money, he couldn’t get in as much trouble as he pleased, sure I could pull a few string to get him out of trouble every time he got into trouble, but really now, I didn’t want to live the rest of my life cleaning Vince’s mess just so I could have his arse out of jail. Bah, maybe I would let him spend a few days in jail so he would be more careful; maybe he would learn by example. Yes… I could do that, I would have to do my own damned paperwork for a bit, but I could handle five days… maybe three… why not two? No, no, if I wanted to teach Vince the appropriate lesson he’d have to stay at least a week. Shudder. One week of that dreaded paperwork. Shudder. Maybe I’ll just lower his salary for a bit, maybe a month; it wasn’t like he would turn against me… right? I mean… I was Vince’s friend… in a way… he wouldn’t try that…?

No, I trusted Vince. But of course, lowering his salary might be a bit unfair… maybe I’ll just… uhh… talk to him about it. He wouldn’t be mad at me for just bringing it to his attention… right? Fuck, this friendship thing was hard. I wrinkled my nose and decapitated another gummy bear, yellow.

I shifted in the ledge I was sitting, still thinking about the kind of effects a shoe falling in someone’s head would have. Would they just fall, shocked, forward flat on their faces? Would they just get a bruise in their head? Would they get some bleeding? Suffer a concussion? Die? That would amuse me, I needed to test this theory before I left the tall, tall building, it was a once if a lifetime chance. I liked killing people, so it was only natural that I was interested in the comical and ironic death that would be such one of a shoe falling in your head, killing you. Of course I would be one-shoeless for a while, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed almost instantly. Buying a shoe was a simple matter, especially made simpler due to the fact that I was filthy rich. I do like my money. Which is why, in the end, it paid off to have and be the responsible one for an illegal chain of crime. Well, I wasn’t one of the suckers that bought this stuff.

Speaking of suckers…

“So you saw dat, eh? Over.” Of course I saw that, Vince. But I wasn’t going to say how I saw him exactly, I had a better idea. Although Vince wouldn’t like it very much it would amuse me quiet a lot. Now why on hell did Vince hated teasing well, that’s just something I would never understand, my teasing was harmless, but his anger and annoyance amused me. Especially that even though he probably would just strangle anyone that got in his nerves he forced to control himself when it came to me. I wonder why? It wasn’t like I wanted Vince to strangle me, even though, I being a vampire it wouldn’t do much, but I had given him no reason to hold himself back. Hell, maybe that came in par with the friendship thing. If it did that would suck. That would suck major arse because that meant I had to be easier on Vince as well. You’d think after all these years I would know what to do with situations like the one right here, but I didn’t.

I took a drag out of my cigarette, smoke burning what was left of the ozone layer.

“Of course I saw you, you almost ran me over your twit. Over.” My voice carried the same tone it did always, which was the lack of emotion. Vince would get suspicious if I showed any emotion, because I barely did. There was only a slight pressure to the word twit, but it was the same kind of tension you would use when you’re trying to draw ones attention to a certain object. It was fun to insult Vince every now and then, to say the least.

I sighed glumly out of boredom. I needed something to do, I could, no, should get my car and get out of here, but first things first I had to make sure Vince was safely done with his little car race. He enjoyed adrenaline and picking on cops to much for my taste, if he wanted adrenaline he should go with the Sweep-‘n-Clean team in Izan. Now there you could get all the adrenaline you wanted by killing people and dumping their deceased body down river. Life is full of little joys like that. Some more important or necessary than the other. Nothing more, nothing less.

Ah, my silly little philosophies amuse me.

Now, where was Vince?

“Vho knows, Dammy Boy. F’ought you vould know me better by now. Over.” he said. I hadn’t meant the comment to have an answer, but guess Vince took it a bit more personal. I stifled a yawn and instead took a drag out of the cigarette. Damn I would have to get a new one now. You know what? Let’s just throw this one down at the social night folk down there and see what we get. I simply let it go for it to free fall all it wanted. I looked down just in time to see it smack into the floor, right in front of an old man who looked like he would get a heart attack just by starring at him. A walking mummy, he should consider going to an Egypt exhibit, he’d fit in nicely as the dead mummified pharaoh. I wonder that if he ever went in a museum the guards would think the dead were walking. That would amuse me. For some reason it never occurred to the old man to look up, all the better for me, maybe his neck didn’t allow him the movement. Whatever it was I was glad that I didn’t have to drag myself away from the edge of this nice, pleasant, now slightly moist roof.

“Your efforts in making me feel guilty have failed, Vince Cheese. Over."

[/color] I muttered into the ‘talkie, referring to when he had pointed out I should know him better. It was sarcasm, of course. I wasn’t as bad a person as to doubt Vince would do such a thing in the first place; just enough to not guess that he was being the maniacal driver that almost killed a little girl. That right there sounded a lot like the Vince we all knew and loved. Again, that was sarcasm. Of course all my sarcasm didn’t save me from the sigh that escaped my lips at the mention of my lovely new nickname. Now I was Dammy Boy I wonder where the hell Vince came up with all that, damn him and his nicknames. At least it was better than what he seemed to prefer to call me. That other name which I despised.

“Yea, ‘old on a minute, vouldja?” said Vince into the ‘talkie just as the car I had seen before pulled around the corner. I couldn’t tell who exactly was in the car at the time, I was too high up. It could be Vince, but it could be another person entirely. Let us hope it was dear ol’ reliable Vince in that car. Because if not, my sight was failing me and I didn’t want my sight to fail me, I was rather fond of it, thank you very much. I wonder if vampires could get a cornea transplant or if we would heal too quickly for that kind of stuff. Now that I think about it… illegal kidneys would get Izan a lot of money, heart transplants, kidneys, corneas. We would just have to get some surgeons willing to work and then we would have a lovely new business branch. How lovely.

I pulled my eyes back to Vince, his car was slowing its speed. What the fuck? Well, knowing Vince he would have a plan already mapped out on his mind. I just had to sit back and enjoy the movie, though Vince’s plans were always the reckless type, we’ll see Damien, we’ll see. Just then the cop’s cars appeared from behind him, not slowing down or noticing how Vince had slowed down. I didn’t like how this was looking. Just then the cops cars noticed to late Vince had reasonably slowed his speed if not stopped completely, couldn’t quiet say from this height, but as mentioned before the cops didn’t notice this. And when they did it was to late, one cop swerved to the left crashing the parked cars, while next cop planted his face in the arse of Vince’s car. The crash made me visibly flinch and I immediately turned my mind on the horrible many disfigurements and broken bones Vince could suffer.

Fuck.

Guess I really did care about Vince, because if not I couldn’t explain why my hands gripped the cement under my fingers with enough force to crack it, in fact I did felt some of it crumble under my fingers. I heard my own sharp intake of breath when a lanky figure stepped groggily out of the car, almost drunken like.

Oi, Vince could be such an arse. Why did I worry about him anyways? Oh yeah, cause his your friend you dunce. I figured I needed better friends. But when I mentally ran through the list of people I knew, I figured there was no one more suitable for the role of The Head’s friends than ol’ Vinnie Boy here. He was Vince the lucky, trustworthy vampire. His lack of proper language and horrible accented English didn’t affect that friendship at alllll. Though it could be annoying at times. But that was Vince for ya.

“Never mind dat crash you just heard. I’m just fine.” came his staticked voice.

I sighed but before I could just as much as think something to say, he quickly added. “So vhere might you be hiding? Over,” he said. I took a deep calming breath, but of course it didn’t help much. I saw Vince in a car crash… the nerve. “Go fuck yourself or go die in a hole.” I muttered, I was actually giddy with relief, but that didn’t mean I had no right to curse Vince around for a bit. I also noticed that as he walked down the street, all happy and smiling like (well not exactly, but y’know), some people gave him a weird glance, and some even called a few of the crashed officers over. Fuck.

I looked down at the people in the sidewalk, right under me in this particular building. I spotted a particular flash of light, just not any flash of light. The flash of light of a camera. I blinked and yep, the guy took a picture of Vince, fuck it all. The guy was basically under me, guess this was a good chance as any to try and see if shoes would kill people. I didn’t even risk wasting time, with my other foot I slipped the shoe off and let it fall. Every second ticked by with agony and I figured I should tell Vince about it, before the shoe came in contacts with the target I called Vince. “Swiss Vince, take the camera out of the unconscious guy, he has a picture of you. Over.” Of course, Vince wouldn’t know what unconscious guy, because it wasn’t about to happen until exactly thirty seconds after I had called him. The shoe continued being sucked by gravity, picking up speed as it cut through layer after layer of winds; they only diverted its course ever so slightly. Then a sickly sounding THLUMP as it landed on the guy’s head. He remained standing before he crumbled down, first on his knees, then his chest fell to the ground, his face smacking against the hard cement. I could swear I saw blood coming from where the shoe hit him, more importantly was the fact that the guy twitched all over before he stayed eerily still. The camera crashed against the cement, I think it might have broken, but the memory card would still be alright, let us hope Vince knew who I meant and in what direction to look. Well he would know soon enough, because as the man finally fell to the ground the horribly screeches and gasps that came from the surrounding crowd were audible from even my height. Ok, it was time to bolt out of here. Now with only one shoe I made my way out of the roof and into the fire stairs, now my life was just great, I got to kill a guy with my left shoe. Yep, my life rocked! GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY![/blockquote]

((ROFL, ok Damien amused me here, rofl. THE TITLE OF THE RP COMES INTO PLAY!!))

[DODES]

To be completely honest with you, I must admit that these cops behind me sucked ass when it came to high speed chases in crowded streets. Or maybe I was just that good. Either way, I had them way behind me. If I had some minutes to spare, I’d bet I could lose them and simply ditch the car somewhere. That would be the ideal situation—of course, though, Damien seemed to need me for something or other... I knew he is indeed fairly patient and all, but I didn’t want to keep him waiting. Having to wait around for something—or someone, in this case—was rather pointless and boring, which was why I despised it as much as I did. I couldn't stand being left alone with my thoughts without anything else to stimulate my mind. I’m sure Damien wasn’t too fond of it either, even if he didn’t say so.

And that was when a plan B was needed.

“Of course I saw you. You almost ran me over, you twit. Over,” Damien replied in that emotionless way of his, and I couldn’t help but raise a brow. It wouldn’t surprise me that I had nearly run over some people, but if Damien was one of those people, that would certainly be a shocker. Whether he was telling the truth or simply pulling my leg, I couldn’t be sure, but I certainly wouldn’t find it funny if this was one of those stunts he pulls to simply amuse himself. He was notorious for that sort of thing, especially when he was bored, and I guessed that if he began talking with me over the walkie talkies, he must be bored out of his mind. Then again, he could simply be checking up on me... he did that time and time again as well. Ah hell, I don’t know. But if he indeed was pulling my leg, I wouldn’t be too happy. I’m sure he has no idea how guilty I would feel if I actually had ran him over.

I decided to go with the safe approach, which was to hardly react and simply say, “Vell ya obviously didn’t move yer ass fast enough, den. Over.” I figured he was just toying with me... If I had nearly ran him over, as he claims, wouldn’t I have at least noticed? I don’t know. Maybe I was just hoping he was pulling my leg. I would rather be annoyed over that than feel guilty over nearly ploughing over him with this piece of shit vehicle.

Anyway... where was I... Oh, right, preparing myself to be rear ended by these cops trailing me. I figured that I could make a quick get-a-way if they were distracted by, you know, colliding into another vehicle. It seemed to play out perfectly in my mind, but when it came time to actually do it, well... Let’s just say it hadn’t gone as well as planned, but we'll get into that later.

“Your efforts in making me feel guilty have failed, Vince Cheese. Over." Once again, I couldn’t help but raise a brow. First of all, Vince Cheese? Where the fuck did that name derive from? I didn’t mind it much—at least, not as much as Vinnie the Pooh—but I would like to know where the hell the inspiration for that had come from. And secondly, how could he possibly think that I was attempting to make him feel guilty? Guilty for what, exactly? Not knowing me well enough? And he was right—if I was trying to make him feel that way—which I wasn’t—I sure as hell had done a shit job of it. I reckoned that this had to be one of those things he usually did when bored. I don’t know if he was trying to anger me--which in itself would have me annoyed--but it wasn’t going so well. I’m in a fairly good mood right about now, and he’d have to give much more effort than that. Besides, I’m not that much of a hothead—at least, not with him. It was only with others who I didn’t trust that I got a bit nasty with.

“Hah, I’m sure I’d come up wif something better dan dat if I vanted ya to feel guilty. Over,” I replied, but absently, as I was distracted with the all important task of avoiding collisions. On a brighter note, though, it was becoming easier as I neared the street I wanted and steadily slowed my speed. I was still many times over the speed limit, but I wasn’t nearly as hasty as I had been previously. It was all part of my ‘Get Rid of the Cops’ plan B.

Then I braked, they rear ended me, yadda yadda yadda. It had all went according to the plan... except for that whole head-hitting-steering wheel thing, as well as the hordes of people the collision attracted. If only I could be invisible for a second or two, I wouldn’t have any problems. But sadly, being a vampire didn’t even come with that luxury, so I had to waltz right out onto the street and hope people would be too surprised to notice as I made my quick get-a-way down the street. But other than this whole ‘general public giving me awkward glances’ deal, I was actually fairly proud of myself for setting up that entire thing.

But then... there was Damien to ruin it. “Go fuck yourself or go die in a hole,” he muttered over the walkie talkie, and at that moment, I would have kicked myself if I could. I really didn’t know how I managed to be that stupid. Oh yeah, why don’t I go have a car crash right in front of Damien? Yeah, good idea, Vince. That’s just brilliant. I don’t even know why it seemed to bother me so much. I knew I couldn’t be seriously injured during that crash, and I wasn’t, so I really had nothing to be concerned over. But I don’t know. I always seemed to be uncomfortable with having people who care for me witness me doing something... well, stupid. It had been the same for he-who-shall-not-be-named... but we all know who he is... I couldn’t stand to have he-who-shall-not-be-named see me in pain, but there was no real reason for it. I supposed I simply didn’t want to be a worry to others. That seemed like a reasonable explanation. However, I never needed to worry about he-who-shall-not-be-named watching me pull stupid stunts, because he’d usually be right there, doing them with me.

But I wasn’t about to go into that.

“Dat didn’t really answer ma question. Over,” I replied simply after I had considered that repeating I was fine again and again wouldn’t do much good, so I had gone with the 'changing the subject' method. I’m sure he already knew I was fine, anyway, so what was the point in reiterating it? What’s done is done, and I couldn’t really remove Damien’s memory of the past few minutes. If I could, though, that would definitely be something I’d be doing right about now. Another wickedly awesome ability that vampires don’t possess. All we have is inhuman strength and speed... and we can see in the dark fairly well... and we have this strangely good sense of smell... and.... OH, we can heal quickly... I must say that has to be one of the better ones. But that was about all the wickedly awesome things we could do, though... not much, considering all the non-wickedly awesome things that came with it...

Then suddenly, this tremendously bright flash nearly blinded me, pulling me from my thoughts. I squinted—that hardly did my aching head any good—and nearly did one of those snake-like/cat-like hissing sounds that vampires often tend do, but stopped myself before I had the chance. I thought it was this oddly bright flash of lightning, since I had heard thunder a few moments earlier, but then I realized it had been the flash of a camera.

Oh shit. If someone was able to get a good shot of me, I’d be in trouble. They’d surely be able to apprehend me if they knew my appearance. And if even one of those cops died, I’d be charged with at least manslaughter...

But that was just not going to happen.

I was about to go to drastic measures and threaten whoever the hell had the nerve to snap a picture with his or her (I had no idea) life, but Damien’s voice stopped me. Over the past few minutes, I had completely forgot he was even there, but it was a relief to know that he was. “Swiss Vince, take the camera out of the unconscious guy, he has a picture of you. Over.” I tried to compose myself... tried to understand what the fuck he was telling me... An unconscious guy? What I wanted to know was how an unconscious guy could possibly take a picture.

But once I turned to face the crowd fully, I caught sight of this dark object that just plummeted from the sky and onto this guy’s head, followed by a sickly thumping sound, and I supposed the impact of it caused him to collapse to the ground. I couldn’t tell what that ‘dark object’ was that mysteriously fell out of nowhere since it had been moving much too quickly, but I figured that whatever it was must have knocked him... unconscious, and after looking around, I caught neither hide nor hair of any other unconscious guys, so I figured this one must be what Damien was talking about.

Taking the camera from him, however, was a task much more difficult than it sounded. You see, once he collapsed, everyone seemed to either gasp or scream and swarm around him, and that meant that I would have to shove through this entire crowd just to get that goddamn camera. Now that was going to be a pain in the ass... but it made a good distraction nonetheless. It must be that people have fairly short attention spans these days, because I think they forgot all about me, but I certainly wasn’t complaining.

Now let the pushing and shoving begin. This was fairly easy since I was on the tallish side, as well as a vampire, so not many people objected to being forced out of the way. Out of the entire thing, only one person had the guts to stop me, and all he had to say was, “Sir, your nose is bleeding.” I didn’t know which I should have laughed at—the fact that I had a bleeding nose and didn’t even notice, or the fact that he referred to me as sir just now. However, the not noticing thing could be explained rather easily. It was simply because I had gotten into the habit of only breathing unless I needed to, which was usually just to speak, and even then I usually breathed through my mouth instead of my nose, and therefore I wouldn’t have smelled the blood. Now that I was aware of it, though, my nose did feel a bit odd and I had that familiar metallic taste on my upper lip... must have been from that whole steering wheel incident. I knew my own blood wouldn’t do me much good, but it sure tasted nice, so I had licked the blood from my lip, then whipped the rest on my arm... then licked it from my arm. I was doing all this as I made my way to the unconscious guy, of course, but the process had to be repeated several times. The blood just kept coming. Eventually, as I finally bent down to reach for that mostly broken camera, noting the bloodied shoe near the guy’s head... aka the dark object I had seen falling... I had to pinch the bridge of my nose to stop the blood flow. People began staring awkwardly at me once more as I took this dead-looking guy’s camera, but I provided no explanation for them and simply walked out the way I had come, then smashed that good for nothing camera on the pavement in an alleyway nearby, where the pedestrians wouldn't see anymore of me. I picked up that small little memory card, which was a part of the remains, and realized it was still intact, but that could be fixed easily.

I removed my cigarette lighter from my pocket and lit a flame beneath the mostly plastic and who-knows-what-else card, causing it to melt and become all deformed. Good luck getting that into a uploader thingamajig... whatever they call those... anyway, once all was said and done, I threw that bloody disfigured camera card as far as it could go. I would have liked to see what other photos were on it, but eh, I really couldn’t be bothered. I had better things to do than look at some asshole unconscious guy’s photos... At least, I hoped I did.

Anyway, I had basically put the pieces together about that whole shoe and unconscious guy and Damien situation. I figured Damien had been on that sky scraper-ish roof up there and had thrown a shoe on that asshole’s head. Good thinking—and good aim, too. “You should try dat wif a cleat next time. Over,” I responded over the walkie talkie, though my voice sounded a bit odd, considering how I still had my nose pinched. I didn't want to release my hold because I think I almost have it...

Hey, that reminds me—if Damien had been observing from that roof the entire time, how could I have nearly ran him over with my maniac driving?

HAH. So I was right. He was pulling my leg there. I might as well point out that I could see through his clever ways. “You ass’ole. I didn’t nearly run ya over,” I added, though I had my nose unpinched this time, and if I were about fifty years younger, I may have actually stuck my tongue out there. Hell, Damien could most likely tell by the tone of my voice that I was feeling fairly proud of myself for figuring it out—as well as amused, not annoyed like he would have probably hoped for. But you know what I say? I say he needs a new hobby that didn’t involve irritating me because there would be moments like these where he would be sourly disappointed.

Rooofl, he srsly should try that with a cleat sometime.

[AKREE]

There were sometimes you just wanted to spice things up in a way, wish you could change a detail or two about your surroundings. But of course that wouldn’t happen, it was such a silly, worthless thing to waste your mental capacity on, but of course there was the part that you would lower your IQ three or four points just thinking about such a thing. But let’s be truthful here, there were sometimes you were so, so bored you really had no choice. You had to let your mind wander and since you didn’t want to lose a complete grip in reality you just wondered about what was around you. Little mattered whatever the hell was around you, the point was, it was right there, so you just went ahead, let your mind wander and laughed at your own idioticies. Because you were just that awesome, no one else would get your laughing fit, no one but you and even if you attempted explaining, you would just break down into laughter again before you had a chance to finish. People would give you weird looks, they might even say you lost it, but your brain can be so amusing sometimes you just don’t care. And why should you? They were just jealous of your awesomeness, or at least, you liked to think they were. Where was I aiming at with all this rant you wonder? Well, just now that’s exactly what happened to me.

As I previously mentioned I had in my possession some very tasty gummy bear which I dismembered or decapitated than munched on cruelly afterwards. It was amusing, gummy bears were a way to express your love of violence and transform it into candy. Now as I waited, ever so patiently for Vince to get his arse here, since I was bored I used my great brain to entertain itself with anything random, anything at all, so I let my thoughts wander. For some reason I mixed gummy bears with reality and when I looked down from the tall building I pictured green, yellow and red gummy bears running amok in London. They would roar, snarl and growl at the random bystanders, the people would run in total panic at the site of the great gummy bears of death. One stepped on a person, male with wiry glasses, he screeched, screamed and trashed, but he was under the paw of the vicious gummy bear. The bear forced his weight on the human’s back and a sickening snap echoed through the city. Of course I realized my imagination was either to good or I had heard that snap before somewhere. Don’t get me wrong with my kind of job you get to kill lot’s and lot’s of people, the way you killed them really didn’t matter, just as long as there was no evidence left, that everything would be fingerprint free, that the blood would fall exactly where you wanted it to, the person would die exactly when you wanted them to and their body would be disposed in such a way that it would never be found. Maybe, just maybe someone would find the body by pure chance, that’s why you had to make sure every last bit of the body was taken care off. In the case someone would find them, the body would be too mutilated for someone to identify. The dead mutilated corpse would be thrown inside a random grave, maybe a good priest would send a prayer and maybe some flowers, maybe a random Good Samaritan, but after that no one would remember the body. The news would just mentioned that an unidentified body was found in the pits of hell somewhere, only three lines worth of trouble and, since the police would find no other evidence that would be it.

Another random kill from god knows how long ago.

But that crack, the one that echoed in my mind even as we spoke, bounced of the walls of my skull and made me grit my teeth together, I remember this one from somewhere, my memories. But where? It annoyed me that the only thing I remember was that particular crack. There was something to it…

A crooked grin spread across my lips as his eyes rolled in my direction, widening with something like fright. What would he be thinking of now? I briefly wondered before I simply shrugged the thought off, it didn’t matter really. Soon he would stop to think altogether, it was part of the reason I was here. I looked around the empty bare room, only a rickety wooden chair in the middle of battered walls, four walls, one floor, one roof. That was all, no windows. There was only the wooden chair, the man sitting in it and me. There were only three occupants in the room if you counted the chair as one, wait that would be five. I also had a kitchen knife with me and a holster, basic stuff really. The man said something, no, not man the werewolf, IT. IT said something, but it was muffled by the duct tape around his mouth. I grinned, it seemed to put IT more nervous because IT started trashing, hauling with all ITS might against the duct tape. But IT was drugged, so it had barely more strength than a normal human. Soon it gave up; a bead of very human-like sweat ran down its forehead. Of course I shouldn’t compare IT with a human, I was basically half human myself, my mother had been human. No, no, no. IT had no relation with me whatsoever; IT was a traitor, a killer.

So I would award IT the death of a killer.

I was aware that I was being a bit hypocritical, but at the time it didn’t matter. What mattered was this moment. IT turned its disgusting gaze at me, I though I heard a whine. How pathetic, I slapped IT across the face. I grinned.

“Noe’ ya knoe’ why yer here, no use complainin’.” I muttered, I still had problems with my English, go figure, but it didn’t matter. I got my meaning through well enough, ITS eyes widened and another pathetic whine exited ITS taped over mouth. I rolled my eyes and slapped him across his face. Pathetic mutt.

Then the real fun begun. IT had killed my brother, Leo. Now, I would make him suffer at least ten times more than Leo, blood for blood. Vendetta. Leo hadn’t died easy, first they had ripped of his arms, it was three werewolves in total, this one was the second, there would be one more missing after this. Anyways, they ripped of his arms, one by one, quartered, that’s what happened to him, then they hamstrung him. The bastards. Then they simply started tearing down at him with their jaws, ate his insides while he was till trashing and screaming, he had survived to almost the very end. They could have killed him, they should have killed him. I never savored torture, I once had attempted it before to obtain information (before meaning, before the accident), but I didn’t think it was a humane thing to do. The irony, I was a vampire and I was worried about what was humane, but of course I had to. My mother had been human. Now, now concentrate Damien boy, don’t dwell in the past. Now, after what I had seen done to my family, it sort of ripped out something from me, a part of me was missing, I didn’t react the same way I did anymore. I don’t think I would ever feel such a thing as pity, like now.

IT had been mutilated completely by yours truly. It was the single most exhilarating experience in my life. The other ones, I didn’t get some quality time with them, but I made a mental note to find some quality time with them. A Chelsea’s smile, nails cut off, then the fingers, then the whole hand, than up the elbow, good thing werewolves lasted this long. But ITS screaming tired me, they would draw attention, so I cut off ITS tongue. Legs and all went in its own time as well, only mutilated limbs and a bloody mess. What remained in the end was a trashing torso and the stumps of what had been legs and arms. It was supposed to make me feel better. But the blood was driving me raving mad, I had the scent all over me, rolled it in my mind, tasted it in the back of my tongue. I decided I needed something to do, but I couldn’t leave IT there, alive. Someone might find it, they would be able to tell it was me; I had to get rid of it. But I couldn’t throw it down river if IT was still alive, that would be wrong, so very wrong. So what did Damien do? Crack its spines with a strong kick. The chair broke in two and the echo of bones cracking echoed in my mind, a savage grin plastered across my face. This was oh so very interesting.

“Vell ya obviously didn’t move yer ass fast enough, den. Over.” Vince’s voice over the walkie talkie abruptly interrupted my thoughts, it took me so by surprise I almost hissed or growled. It even took me a while to remember where I was. Oh yeah, and I noticed some growling, which took me a while to register as my own, a low rumbling in my throat and as quick as I noticed I cut it off. Whoops, guess you can scratch that almost growling part. After that I had to guess what the fuck Vince was talking about because it seemed I completely forgot. What had I originally said? I ran over the memories of my last encounter, but I couldn’t remember anything at all I said to Vince. Fuck, I just hoped he didn’t take the growling the wrong way, in fact, let’s hope he didn’t hear it all. But, I was pretty sure my hopes were in vain, I had bought the best of this things there was, basically they could catch any sound clearly enough, which was the wanted result. I guess the wanted result when I wasn’t growling at Vince would have been nice. Of all the times to despise money. But, it was no biggie, I would just apologize to Vince if it came to that, instincts could really get in the way sometimes. Damn it all. Still, Vince needed an answer to his reply, so I just muttered and absent-minded “Swine Cheese calling me slow…” and hope that was the kind of answer I would normally give if I remembered what the fuck we were talking about in the first place.

Of course, since I didn’t I could only do just that, hope.

I looked around, simply looked around the roof. The only sign that there was ever any actual life here was the door, with the stairs leading to the inside of the building. The stairs would go down two floors, maybe three, I lost count, before opening up to an actual floor where you could conveniently get in an elevator and the rest of the way down. This building was a mix of a series of offices, most of the workers were humble humans, then for some unknown twisted reasons, on the floors near the middle of the building you could find a few lounges, kitchens and whatever else there could be inside the building. Now, I know what you’re wondering, how the hell did I get in the building in the first place, right? Such a complicated problem, yet it had an easy solution. No matter how corrupt or how in line a company was, you offered the guards a couple of hundred bucks and they even let you park your car inside the building. There was nothing money couldn’t buy… except maybe getting and keeping Vince out of trouble. That was something money wouldn’t be able, no matter how many years have passed to fix or make right. Vince the Incorrigible, the apple of discord. I wonder if his parents had much trouble with him when he was a kid, something told me I wasn’t far off. I briefly wondered what Vince would do with a child, the say the apple wouldn’t fall down from the tree. Oh, dear god, it would be like two Vince’s. God save us all, the apocalypse is coming or some other crap like that humans liked to say. Even so, if for one reason or another, another Vince appeared I would seriously considered asking something for mercy. One Vince in London is enough trouble already, two would destroy the city.

When I saw Vince getting rear ended something had tugged at me and that something was worry. I mean, watching your only friend go through a car crash no matter how high his chance of survival were made you go into a panic/worried mode. If I had a heartbeat it would have either probably paused and restart itself when I saw Vince come out of the car, at least being able to walk or I would have gotten a heart attack on the spot. It was worry that had made me react in such a way later; I had muttered a few not-appropriate things in my rush of relief. But really, the man deserved it. He deserved that and a few more harsh words from me. Why the HELL did he think it was a wicked idea to get into a car crash, he could have waited before I died or something or at least, have it far away from my view. But apparently, giving his boss and dear friend a heart attack counted as one of the things in his Things to do before I die handbook. I silently wondered what other stunts he would have in that handbook of his.

“Dat didn’t really answer ma question. Over,” Vince said, I figured that was his attempt at evading or changing the subject. The arsehole, how would he feel if I got into a car crash in front of him? I bet he wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t like it one bit. I hoped he worried, worried bad. I hope the arse got a heart attack if I ever did that, I hope that dead rotten heart of his started beating just in time to get a heart attack. I sure as hell hope he did. Then we would see what kind of subject change he would come up with. If it had been any other person I knew doing that stupidity in front of me I would have had a friendly chat with them. By saying a friendly chat, I actually mean cutting of his fingers and maybe a few limbs one by one so he wouldn’t do it again. Some quality time with them. That’s what the consequences to their actions would be. Vince was lucky I appreciated him as a friend enough to even almost shudder at the idea of torturing poor ol’ Vinney Boy.

“Why don’t you consider that next time you have a crash? Over,” I shot back, my voice was still flat and emotionless, but if Vince knew me as well as I hoped he did, he would understand that I wasn’t about to tell him anything until I felt like it or he found out. It was the consequences of having a fucking car crash in front of me. Damn him, let’s hope he at least didn’t get hurt. Ignore how he stumbled and jogged like a drunken man, he just… well… liked running that way. Yeah, let’s go with that. Vince liked jogging like a drunken idiot. It suited him, in a way. But I wasn’t telling him that, it wouldn’t be… what was the word I was looking for? … nice, that’s right, it wouldn’t be nice. I’m sure Vince had his own nasty thoughts about me he kept to himself. Not everyone was specifically made to fit another’s liking after all.

Once I threw the shoe and it fell on the idiot guy’s head, probably killing him I peered over the edge, keeping my eyes on Vince. I had to make sure he got that camera; I also wanted to know if he would think about my shoe at all… and maybe get it, because I now had only one shoe and the other foot was only covered by a black sock. A mafia mob boss should never be seen with only one shoe, if I could feel embarrassment, I think I would have felt it then. But even so, if I ever got caught as the infamous Izan head I wanted to look my best and smile at the news cameras, not that I though I would ever get caught, but with an underboss like Vince I somehow began doubting that only making myself unknown wouldn’t be enough. I would have to pay to have myself erased from existence, even my birth certificate would have to be gone. No proof that Damien ever existed, of course there was the fact that everyone believed I had died a long time ago with the rest of my family, I had done my best to make it appear so, maybe that would buy me some time. Even so I wasn’t completely sure that would save me from the wrath of my only friend. I sure as hell hope it did. Maybe I’d give Vince access to my money, I trusted him enough not to rob me, that way he had ways of getting my guilty arse in court to turn into an innocent arse in court. Yeah… not that I think about it, maybe I should talk to him about it… though I would try not to mention how I think I’m going to jail because of him, but y’know.

“Sir, your nose is bleeding.” came a voice that I was pretty sure wasn’t Vince’s in the walkie-talkie. I let that set in; I was already heading towards the door to the stairs that would get me out of the roof in a hurry. I felt it for a minute, y’know… roll around the idea in my head, figure out what it tasted like. Before I realized, that I…

Didn’t. Like. It. One. Bit.

I ground my teeth together, an action I had taken the habit of doing when Vince got into trouble. It just sometimes made me felt like the big brother watching out for his irresponsible, messy little brother who happened to be accident prone and get in all sorts of trouble. Then, like always there was no reason to get mad. Vince was a vampire, he would heal and everything would be fine. Taken that he was wearing gloves and that he didn’t leave his fingerprints all over the car. If he did such a stupid thing as that, then I would be pissed. Now it was the big brother worrying about his smaller slightly stupider yet largely irresponsible little brother. “Vinney love, care to explain… why are you bleeding? Over” I said, as teasingly as I possibly could. He despised my teasing, but really, it was like Damien instinct, whatever my emotion at the time I always responded with sarcasm or teasing of some kind.

I was walking down the stairs, heading to the elevator as Vince destroyed the camera, of course I wasn’t aware of that quiet yet. As I made my way to the elevator a couple of people gave me an odd look, their gaze pointedly looking at my missing shoe, but most of them ignored me as some random well dressed guy walking without one shoe. After all, they couldn’t really complain, since I wasn’t causing them any direct trouble. Now I’d have to pay someone to get rid of all that security tape, well that was fairly simple, in less than twenty four hours people would be saying, ‘what security tape?’ but I’d take care of that later. I got inside the elevator and waited, ever so patiently for it to get to the ground floor, a pleasant danceable music played in the background.

“You should try dat wif a cleat next time. Over,” I chuckled at the very idea. He was right on that, I just killed someone with a shoe, epic win. How many serial killers could say they have killed someone with a shoe? Not many, but the great Head of Izan had done it. Leonardo would be proud, I thought sarcastically. Now, a cleat would do far more damage than any measly shoe, so I just chuckled. I figured that didn’t need a response, next time I would get Vince to bring me a penny so I could kill someone from up there. That would be another win. I would be called the shoe-and-penny-serial-killer, win.

“You ass’ole. I didn’t nearly run ya over,” I chuckled at that, Vince should know when I was pulling his leg, either way it amused me, he sounded proud. Like he had just caught a little kid about to pour shaving cream all over his face. I couldn’t help but let out a few chuckles at his childish enthusiasm. And I couldn’t help the chance to pull his head. "When I know what an ass’ole is, I’ll inform you if I am one. Over” I said, followed by more chuckling. I chuckled a bit more before I was cut off by a very sudden stop in the elevator. I rolled my eyes towards the door, where a man came in, chattering in his cell phone like he was being paid to do it. His eyes searched my figure, his gaze stopping a minute in my missing shoe before entering the elevator with an air of arrogance to him. I wrinkled my nose and pulled a disgusted face, the guy pretended not to notice my childish behavior. I stuck my tongue at him. "Alligator, do I act like an arrogant ass'ole everywhere I go? Over." I asked into the walkie-talkie, if you ask me, I was purposely trying to annoy the guy, I didn't care much, I probably made all the money he made in a year in one week. But I was bored; I teased and/or annoyed people when I was bored, this guy was my next target.

He was shorter than me; he carried himself straight, erect and proud. His eyes were small and mean looking, the type of man that yelled his lungs out whenever mad, creases and lines covered his face and I smelled him out to be human or werewolf, since his face was creased I quickly made him out to be human. He had a furry black mustache over his nose that he would wrinkle in annoyance, he dressed in a suit. He looked at me, I grinned.

"Alligator, just get in the parking lot of this building, wait for me there. Over" I muttered. In the parking lot, my baby was awaiting my return. She wasn't my best car, but she was fast and I indeed liked her. What she was? Well a Saleen S7 Twin-Turbo. I was pretty sure Vince would identify my car fairly quick, since no one else in this pathetic building could even hope to have such a thing. Having money amused me to no end. Of course, I just hoped he had half a mind to wait until I got there instead of breaking in a hot-wiring my car.

Damien's Baby

[DODES]

I wonder if Damien knew that I usually didn’t concern myself with money. I didn’t care about it much. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t go quite that far. I cared, but it wasn’t really a matter of how much I had. It was if I had what I needed, and if that need was met, I was more than satisfied. I wonder if he knew that the majority of what I make just sits around most of the time. Even though I always had enough money to buy whatever it was I wanted, I would much rather steal it. It was just more thrilling and... illegal that way, and anything illegal, I liked. Except maybe child porn. That was just wrong. I mean, you have to draw the line somewhere... Anyway, continuing on about money... I had been poor as dirt my entire life. I even remember this conversation I had with he-who-shall-not-be-named about whether or not we should sell the forth kitchen chair since we didn’t need it. There had only been three of us at the time, after all—me, he-who-shall-not-be-named and the old lady—and therefore, we obviously didn’t need a forth chair. If someone happened to stay over for dinner (which would be a poor decision on their part since we didn’t have much food to live on, either), they would just have to suck it up and eat standing. But that was how bad it was. After we had sold all the valuable items, like the T.V., for example, we still didn’t have enough. Yuppies (aka rich people) were never in my good books because they didn’t seem to consider that people like us - us back then - could live off a small fraction of what they earned. It hardly mattered, though. I learnt to deal with only having three chairs.

I suppose that because of my childhood, stealing and living off of small sums of money was engrained in my mind. I was taught to hold onto whatever cash I got, and I still do to this day, simply because I’m afraid I’ll catch neither hide nor hair of it the day after. Least to say, I probably had this huge bank account because of my minimal spending and maximum income. Then again, I do usually blow large amounts of money on a daily bases for stupid things—mostly to manipulate people. You know, by saying ‘you’ll get _______ amount of money if you do _________________________ for me.’ That was always fun. The stupid things people will do for money amused me and it makes me glad that to know that I’m no longer poor. If only he-who-shall-not-be-named could see me now. Bastard.

Anyway... let’s change the subject... to... uh... the colour orange.

...

Wait, what? Why would I think of that?

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—Damien seemed to have changed the subject for me by growling over the walkie talkie. I didn’t respond because it took me by surprise. The last thing I had said to him was something about him not moving his ass fast enough because he had said I'd nearly ran him over... and I don’t know. Perhaps I had offended him? Maybe, for once, he wasn’t pulling my leg and I actually did nearly run him over. As I drove, I tried to make sense of what I was feeling and my hands gripped the steering wheel. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like what I was feeling. It was similar to hate, but not toward Damien or another person... but toward myself, and to be honest with you, I wasn’t familiar with the feeling. I didn’t like it. No, I hated it. It angered me. If this was all part of one of his stupid little games, I was definitely not amused.

But I said nothing—just gripped the steering wheel—and the growling stopped. It was short and subtle, like it wasn’t meant for me to hear, but I did. Not much got passed me, but for once, I wish something did. I don’t even know why I was feeling the way I was. He was obviously alive. If I did nearly run him over, I hadn’t killed him or anything.

But that’s why I normally ignored what I felt. Emotions simply weren’t rational. That would explain why we had a brain to interpret them.

So I ignored it and simply took whatever it was I was feeling out on the steering wheel. “Swine Cheese calling me slow…” Damien muttered shortly after. I didn’t know what he meant by Swine Cheese, but I didn’t bother finding out, either. It was most likely one of those damn nicknames he keeps coming up with. I ignored that, too, and instead replied with, “No, Damien, you’re fast as lightning. Over.” My voice was emotionless, as usual, but yet it sounded so different to me. Maybe it was too unemotional. Yeah, that’s it. Too unemotional... like I was trying too hard...

Hopefully Damien wouldn’t notice that like I did.

Even after that whole crash thing was over and done with, I still wasn’t feeling quite right, but I continued to ignore it. I figured if I gave this feeling the cold shoulder treatment for long enough, it’ll give up and fade away somewhere. I didn’t care where, just as long as it was gone. Now on top of that, though, my head ached from that goddamn crash, which I was now regretting—not because of the aching, but because of the reaction Damien was giving me. “Why don’t you consider that next time you have a crash? Over.” It seemed like he was holding some sort of grudge against me now, which frustrated me, considering how I was fine. I could understand it if I was seriously injured or something, but I wasn’t, so therefore it was just pissing me off now. I mean, I’m glad he cared, but... I don’t know... I was fine. Wait, I said that already... about five times now... Well, reiterating it wouldn’t hurt, I suppose...

I drummed my fingers along the side of my leg as I tried to focus on calming down, but it was harder than it sounded. “Vill do. Over,” I responded, somewhat needlessly. Hey, that was damn good. I didn’t sound like how I was feeling at all. Damn right. I could sound just as emotionless as you, Damien, if I wanted. I didn’t realize it was an accomplishment to be proud of until now.

I couldn’t dwell on that thought for long, however, because now was time for some camera fetching, and pushing through crowds of people can take much more concentration than I thought. Hell, I barely even noticed the guy who had tapped me on the shoulder to announce that my nose was bleeding. For me, this wasn’t much of a big deal. A lot worse has happened to me, so I had simply lived with it, licking the blood off my upper lip and pinching my nose as I retrieved the camera that held my picture.

I didn’t even realize that Damien could hear the guy’s voice as he said, “Sir, your nose is bleeding.” But based on Damien’s next words, I was quite certain that this goddamn walkie talkie had picked up his voice as well. Damn thing. It worked too goddamn well for its own good. “Vinney love, care to explain… why are you bleeding? Over” The first thing that came to my mind as he said this was—QUICK, think of a lie. “Vhat—? Oh! Dat vasn’t me... that was da guy standing next to me. He had the nose bleed. Over,” I fibbed, hoping he would buy it, as well as hoping he wouldn’t hear the slight nasal congestion as I spoke (at least I had made sure to unpinch my nose before I said anything). But then I looked down and realized the blood staining my shirt... and that if I was going to see Damien at all today, he would surely notice it and draw his own conclusions. Basically, I had just lied for absolutely nothing, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now. I had already said it...

Man, I really need to think before I do things.

Speaking of that, as I fetched the camera and thought about how pesky forensic evidence was, I also realized something else... My fingerprints were going to be all over the steering wheel of that car.

Shit.

Now that was stupid... Damien wouldn’t have to hear about that, now, would he? Besides... I got it all under control. I had a plan. As you witnessed earlier with that rear ending accident, my plans aren’t the greatest most times... and attracted a great deal of trouble... but they get the job done, and that’s all that mattered.

“Hey, you,” I said, indicating a random bystander with a pointed finger. It happened to be a young guy, but he didn’t appear to be too yuppish looking, and that was all that mattered. Otherwise, what I was about to do wouldn’t work.

The guy I had indicated pointed toward himself, as if asking me?, and I nodded.“Yea, you. C’mere.” He did so, but reluctantly, and I took out my lighter, lighting it aflame. “If you take this and throw it on that car over dere, you’ll earn yourself a hundred bucks.” I spoke slowly, carefully, trying to keep my accent out of my speech, but it still managed to get in every once and awhile. It’s that one thing that always seems to stay with me, but it hardly mattered. If I believed people would give me a hard time over it, I’d simply spoke like I am now, slowly and carefully. I only hated it because it took so much concentration—each syllable seemed to be a challenge to pronounce correctly. I wondered briefly if Damien had it like this, too, but then again, he could have always known English. Lucky him. I’m sure with speaking as slowly as I was, I was giving off the impression of a retard, but eh.

The guy I was speaking to simply looked at me as though I had grown a third head. Damn. He wasn’t going to make it that easy, was he? “I swear,” I continued, suddenly wondering if Damien knew what I was doing. I supposed that, with those nifty walkie talkies, he could hear every word I was saying. “There’s no one in dat car.” That much was true. All I wanted was for him to throw that cigarette lighter onto the vehicle I had stolen in order to destroy the evidence. I would do it myself, but I was in enough trouble as it was. “I’m just...” Damn, think of something, think of something... “filming for a...” For a what? Don’t be specific... just generalize it. “Project... We’re, uh... filming people’s reactions... to fires... and auto wrecks...” Ooo, good one. I think he bought that.

“Where are the cameras?” he asked me. Whoops. Guess I spoke too soon on the buying it thing. And I suppose he didn’t notice the unconscious guy’s camera I was holding in my hand right now. Then again, I suppose he meant those movie cameras...

“They’re hidden ones,” I answered, though he didn’t seem too convinced, and I continued, “so people act natural.” Geez, if I were him, I would have taken the lighter a long while ago. Maybe what he wanted was more money... “So if you can do that, I’ll give ya two hundred bucks.”

“I thought it was one hundred,” he pointed out. Jesus Christ, kid, if someone offers you more than what you’re suppose to get, you don’t say something. You just accept it. Do you not know anything?

“Well it’s two hundred now. In cash.” My God, what else could he possibly want? I handed the lighter to him for him to take, but he hesitated. I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I was wasting time here and I had half a mind to just waltz up there and do it myself—screw the consequences. “Look, I’ll give you one hundred now, and the other hundred if you do it, alright?” As I took out my wallet from my pocket, he finally nodded and I handed him two fifties. With that, he scampered off. I watched him to make sure he didn’t screw up and not even start a fire, but he was a bit smarter than I thought and threw the lighted lighter onto the interior of the car, igniting the flame. Hopefully that would reach the gas tank and cause an explosion.

Damn, now I needed a new lighter.

I handed that kid his other two fifties, which was no skin off my back. I earned a great deal more than that, trust me. "Go buy yerself something nice," I told him as he went on his way. He gave me a slight glare, but I just shrugged, smirking lightly.

Now that that was taken care of, where was I? Oh, right, breaking the shit out of this unconscious guy’s camera.

As I went into that alleyway, where no one would see me, I stomped on it, kicked it, smashed it against a wall... and it actually a bit of a relief to be able to take my anger out on something. Right now, I was imaging that this camera was the source of all my irritation, and I had just beat the shit out of it, so I was feeling all right.

Amongst the remains, I spotted that little memory card thingamajig, and I was about to melt it and leave it deformed, but then realized I just gave that kid my lighter...

Good thing I have two.

I don’t even know why, but I had one in the front pocket of my jeans, then another in the chest pocket of my shirt. That must be today’s lucky break.

Anyway, so I half melted that with my recently proclaimed lucky lighter and threw that piece of shit memory card as far as it would go.

Now, without further ado, let’s get the hell out of here.

"When I know what an ass’ole is, I’ll inform you if I am one. Over,” Damien announced as I began speed walking away from all the commotion. It would be too suspicious if I ran, I figured, though I wished I could. I wanted to get as far away from here as possible in the shortest possible amount of time. At Damien’s words, however, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Geez, on top of everything else, he has to give me a hard time about my accent, eh? He was so amused, he even began chuckling, and even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could’ve gotten angry. It amused me a bit too, in all truth. “You know perfectly vell vhat an ass’ole... no, asshole is, Dammy Boy. Over.” Damn, I had trouble pronouncing that. I don’t know what it is about the English language and H’s, but they were just not meant for me to say. I should just stick with bastard. Now that I could say.

Not long after that, he said, "Alligator, do I act like an arrogant ass'ole everywhere I go? Over." I rose a brow. That was a bit random, but I didn’t think much of it. At first I thought he was addressing someone other than me and I only heard it because of the walkie talkie, but as I considered that, I doubted there was anyone else he gave pet nicknames to and I answered his little question, even though I doubted it was meant to be answered. “Problly, I’m sure. Over.”

At his next words, however, I couldn’t help but sigh. Here I was, half a block away from the building, and now he’s telling me to walk all the way back and wait for him. It would have been just great if he could have said that about three minutes ago—but that’s right, he’s holding some sort of pointless grudge against me. “Right,” I sighed once more as turned the opposite direction. “I’ll be dere. Over.” And I started running toward the building. That didn’t do much for my bleeding nose—just caused it to bleed more, really, but I pinched it closed in an attempt to slow/stop the blood flow. It didn’t do much, but I continued anyway.

Now skip to about two minutes later, since running through a crowd of people is boring and uninteresting—plus that had to be the third time I’ve done it today. But it did give me few moments to admire my work of the auto wreck fire from afar... Anyway, I’m in the parking lot now, where there is no horde of people. I swear, anything destructive attracts the public like honey attracts bees. The simplicity of people annoyed me to no end.

But here I was, in the parking lot, assuming one of these vehicles was Damien's, and guessing which one it might be. I did a quick scan of it, naming each vehicle off in my head as I went, but stopped once I saw a Saleen S7 Twin Turbo. There was no doubt in my mind that it was his. It looked expensive and fast—definitely Damien’s type. Okay, either I was driving, or Damien was driving fast because I don’t think I could stand being in that car and going the speed limit.

I drummed my fingers and licked the blood from my upper lip, imagining a Vince and Damien scenario in my head.
“Hey Damien, can I drive?”
“No.”

...

Let’s test that theory now. “Hey Damien, can I drive?”

Too bad I didn’t have a coat hanger or slim jim to break into it with, or else I would have. Usually I simply break the window with a rock of some sort, but I have this feeling that Damien wouldn’t like that too much. If only I had one, though, I would completely hotwire that thing in about ten seconds.

Instead, though, I sat on the cement of the parking lot, trying to ignore the constant ache in my head that seemed to be getting worse with time, and leaned my back against the tire of the car with my legs outstretched. To pass time as I waited (how I hated waiting), I tried to lick the blood from my upper lip. The nose bleed wasn’t as bad now, and I wasn’t pinching it anymore, but I didn’t want the blood to dry on my face. I could simply wipe it off, but this way was more amusing. Plus, I do like the taste of blood, and therefore I had no problems with it. All I can say is I’m lucky I have a long tongue. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be able to get it all.

When it said Damien's baby, I was all, "o.o since when does Damien have a baby?" but then I clicked it and realized it was a car. rooofl.

[AKREE]

I wish that sometimes, just sometimes, you could forget everything in your past, maybe not everything, but some of it. Sometimes it was better to forget. I would look down at my childhood; I don’t think there’s anything worth remembering. What I remember was being lonely, a bodyguard watching me from the entrance to my room, always eagerly awaiting something, anything to happen, but something, most times, actually, anything to make my day would never come. Bryan hated me, Leonardo could care less about me and Leo could rarely come, the only one that would cheer me up, with his stories or jokes. Leo… He had been killed in front of me, my own brother, the only one I truly considered family, being ripped to pieces while I was made to watch. The painful image flashed before my eyes, like I was seeing it right now, Leo screaming, his eyes occasionally drifting towards me, in the end he seemed to be worried more about me than anyone else. I blinked, I was now looking at the elevator doors. After that I couldn’t trust anyone, I could barely talk to anyone. Who would I talk to? I was alone with only myself to depend on, but I was betrayed by family, by my own blood, who would expect me to trust anyone? Maybe that’s what he intended from the start, crush everyone’s soul to pieces, watch them drop one by one, like rain. One tiny drop after the next until nothing was left.

I found myself wondering about Vincent. He didn’t talk about his past, he probably didn’t want to remember it. The only thing that I did know about him is that he had been to jail before and he despised it. The events that led to that was because I had seen his reaction when he was about to go to jail, he hadn’t been only horrified by the thought, he had disliked it. Everyone I had seen to go to jail the first time didn’t act so… evasive, perhaps, of the subject. Of course by the time I already had decided what I wanted Vince’s place to be in Izan. I wanted him to be directly under me, of course I was cautious. I wouldn’t act immediately, court and all could wait, I had to make sure this was the guy I wanted to trust, my trust was a hard thing to obtain. When I was sure I could trust Vincent, well that was when his case started to fall through and, well I saved the day. Not sure if many people would consider what I did for the best, I had just paid for a criminal to be able to sell drugs and guns to the local community to be free and working under another guy who sold drugs and guns to the local community. But, at least I made it better for my dear friend Vincent Fromm, at least, I hope it did. Then I’d be in a pickle. Heh, I amuse myself.

I want to shift my thoughts to another subject, anything else. But my little reminiscing left me a bit at a lost. I couldn’t think of another possible subject, because somehow I found a way to relate that with some kind of stupid, worthless thought. I shouldn’t be thinking of such petty things, was done is done and there no changing that. So why don’t we move on, Damien ol’ chap? Why oh why don’t you think of another subject. Like? Well, plenty of interesting subjects to ponder upon… uh… like… The history of the chocolate chip cookie. Yes, let’s go with that. Well, you might not know this, but the chocolate chip cookie was created by plain accident. A baker, in a place that I cannot remember, but I think she had some kind of inn. Anyways this baker, who was rather stupid, yet managed to be smart at the same time, wanted to make chocolate cookies. Well the recipe for a chocolate cookie is rather simple, normal cookie dough mixed with chocolate, right? Well, I have never baked a single cookie in my entire life, so I do not know the answer to this question, but I do know that how she thought the recipe was. So here she goes and breaks a chocolate bar into pieces, throwing them in the cookie dough than stuffing it in the cookie oven. So she waits patiently for her cookies and when they are ready the result wasn’t a chocolate cookie, but a chocolate chip cookie. Now, it’s amusing how someone stupidity can actually make such an interesting treat. She failed so epically it turned into a win, in other words. Now I know what your wondering. ‘Damien, ol’ chap you have lost your mind, me boy, I know this really good doctor than can help.’ Well, wait; there is a reason why I bring this idea forward.

That’s like the kind of hope I have for Vince.

Let me explain. I have high hopes for Vince, you see. Because really he’s not a twit, he’s a smart fellow; the problem is he needs to learn some matters. My hopes for Vince is that one day, like the chocolate chip lady he will fail so much it will become and win and he will create his own tasty treat. What I sort of want is for him to make a mistake and when he makes the mistake that the result will be pleasing. So he can make me proud. The very thought makes my eyes water… then again it could do something with that dust that just blew in the general direction of my face. Nonetheless what I’m having here is some kind of wishful thinking, because Vince was a social retard and a social moron, if he ever invented something it would be something that would either annoy the crap out of everyone or be some kind of people repellant. Well, I must say he was getting at it, just a little more Vincey boy and you’ll have a successful people annoyer. In fact, I think he already has a people annoyer, himself. I think his parents made that boy with the idea in mind that he would annoy the crap out of everyone and cause maximum mayhem and increase government debts. He did a fantastic job at did, that he did. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Fromm. Your lives purpose has been complete, you can now die with happy hearts and full souls, because not only is your son filthly rich, he annoys that shit out of everyone as well. Let me add that you have done a wonderful job and that I will take good care of your boy.

Or try to.

You do understand that was sarcasm, right?

Anyways, it is within my understanding that I have been recalling the past events a lot recently. Well there’s a reasonable explanation in which I will mention as soon as I think of it, meanwhile I will go back to recalling the past events from which you will be very impatiently waiting so the action can move along. But I can assure you, that if you pressure me I will just keep recalling these events over and over again until you have grown so tired of them you will feel like smacking your head repeatedly against a wall until I have stopped babbling about events, currently in the past. So if you favor your brain in the exact position it is, because obviously your brain is to small to fit in that enormous cranium of yours, thus bouncing around upon your head smacking against any hard, soft or somewhat hard surface, I recommend you do not pressure me.

Capiche?

No… I didn’t think so.

Either way.

When I had growled I was instantly worried that Vince would take it the wrong way. I hadn’t meant to growl, Vince should know that, he had startled me and the very vampiric habit of growling at anything that they didn’t like had taken control over me. This does not mean I dislike Vince, but his startling voice was another thing altogether. But he was quite, he should have cracked a joke or asked me what was wrong, he stayed quite and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit. But what I felt about it was another reason entirely. I didn’t know what I felt, guess it would depend if I knew what Vince was thinking, but I didn’t know what Vince was thinking, there was no way of knowing was Vince was thinking, this is why I concentrated on deciphering me emotions. Now this was far more complicated than it sounded, I rarely had the slightest idea what I was feeling so I basically had to rule everything out that I wasn’t feeling. I wasn’t angry, getting me angry, well took a lot, so that one was out. Guilty? No, I wasn’t feeling guilty, that would be a new one. Worried? Yeah, I think it was that, I was worried that Vince would take that the wrong way, I hadn’t meant the growling to even exit my lips, but these damned walkie-talkies picked up every little sound, which was annoying.

At my mention of implying the Vince had called me slow, he had stayed silent for some time. As if trying to see what he could make of it, if it was good or bad? I waited patiently for his next words and when he said them they just confused me. “No, Damien, you’re fast as lightning. Over.” he said in a flat emotionless voice that worried me. It was definitely a cause for concern. Vince only made his voice so emotionless when he was trying to hide something. That couldn’t be good. “Sorry…” I mumbled over the ‘talkie, I hope he understood it was my apologizing for the growling bit I had done. I hadn’t meant to do it so I was apologizing. Sounded like something a friend would do, apologize? Though I would never do a thing as truthfully apologizing to anyone else, so maybe Vince would understand that bit there, eh?

While I awaited a reaction I started to think about this whole situation. I was wondering if I ever was overly bothersome to Vincent, I would give three shits if it was anybody else, but apparently when as a kid you had no friends and nearly one-hundred years later you got a friend, it was a bit difficult to deal with. Half of the time I wondered if that’s what a friend would do for another friend and the other half of the time I tried to make something positive out of Vince. But of course, I was not only a pessimist and a very negative person, I had little hope in people, thus I always expected the worst. Now, the problem with Vince was that I wasn’t sure if I should be expecting the worst out of him, I wondered if it was wrong to. I was his friend after all, or at least I thought I was. It didn’t feel completely right to be always expecting the very worst out of him. Sure he was annoying, sure he got in a lot of trouble, sure he was a little apple of discord, sure he was known for causing mass mayhem, sure he had a bad habit of hotwiring every car he lay eyes upon, but he was my friend, Vince the Impaler… or some shit like that… I amuse myself.

More thunder rumbled in the distance, but the flash of lightning was still several miles away, but if you looked at the horizon, you could see the dark sky slowly spreading across the sky. It would be some time before it reached this part of London, specifically, but it would probably come. It was summer after all, rain showers during the night weren’t at all uncommon, the moisture would cling to your clothes and skin, the scent would lodge itself in your sinuses and still you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the high temperatures that came with summer. Of course, I couldn’t be completely sure of this, because, I being a vampire didn’t produce any body heat and the external body heat barely affected me. I was always several degrees under the current temperature, thus I couldn’t be affected by heat. Hell, the only time I had seen the sun was in pictures. Of course, I would adore to sulk in all the negative things about being a vampire, but I couldn’t compare it to anything else since I was, indeed born a vampire. Now that we got that all clear and described the weather, I would like to change my mental subject to something else.

“Vill do. Over,” was Vince’s only reply. I devoured another gummy bear; I was forgetting to keep track of all this, y’know the gummy bear eating. Too much would –sadly- get me sick, I didn’t need to be sad nor sick so let’s try to keep a better count of the food you ingest, Damien. It won’t do good to be sick after all, gummy bears are small and all, but you can’t eat that much to begin with because I happen to be a vampire who can’t ingest that much food, unless its covered in blood, then I could devour one or two gummy bears more. I wonder if Vince liked gummy bears… I was bored, after all so why not ignore that nasty indifference of his and ask? I saw nothing wrong with it, so sure, let’s go with that. “Vinnie-the-pooh, do you like gummy bears? Over.”

[/b] I asked, wondering how Vinnie was liking the walkie-talkies. I sure hope he did, because then I would be sorely disappointed, it would help to keep me out of boredom and help Vince if he got into trouble, better yet knowing when Vince got into trouble, in my opinion it couldn’t get much better than that. This way I could also keep count of the death toll he created daily on a boring night like this and maybe also, keeping count of the mentally affected and the couple of children who would go into shock and probably go into therapy for at least a week. So far, estimating by the look of that car crash, I’d say at least two cops dead (one probably dead in the spot and the other could die in the hospital, these guys stinked at driving) those crashes looked pretty nasty and at least two more wounded, and what about the pedestrians? A mom who is going into shock and a child who will probably be afraid of cars for a good while. Now, wounded, well some civilian cars crashed into the original car crash, that couldn’t be pretty, who knows if one of those gas tanks was ready to blow up. In which case the situation would turn interesting pretty quickly.

When I had pointed out that I heard someone saying how his nose was bleeding there was a moment of pure silence, nothing but silence. Then suddenly there came Vince’s voice “Vhat—? Oh! Dat vasn’t me... that was da guy standing next to me. He had the nose bleed. Over,” he said, for all I knew Vince was lying and I despised liars, but Vince would know that. So I decided to trust his story, no matter how unlikely it would be that another guy would have a bleeding nose, unless the shoe I had thrown had magically bounced at another guy’s face, he probably had a big head, that way it could be attracted by the laws of gravity and propel itself towards the guy’s face, thus making his nose bleed. That explanation would seem more likely than Vince lying to me, he wouldn’t lie to me, he just wouldn’t. Vince was Vince after all, you’re just panicking, Damien, calm down.

He wouldn’t lie to me I was sure.

So I forced myself not to make a big deal out of it, however unlikely the other theory was, it… could happen, I mean humans here in London hadn’t believed that vampires existed until a basically some time ago, they didn’t even consider the possibility of it. So yeah, maybe shoes could propel themselves towards the general direction of a human, or vampire… or werewolf head and smack them right smack dab in the middle of their face, causing a nose bleed. See, it made perfect sense… once you started believing in magical faeries and seeing a pig fly. Pink body, muddied snout and white thick wings to carry its swine-ish weight, yes, it made far more sense. Maybe the guy had telekinesis and had tried to attract the shoe to his face and accidentally smacked himself. Yes, all that made far more sense than Vince lying to me. Vince knew how much I despised liars, he wouldn’t lie to me, never would. He juts wouldn’t do it, he was my friend, yes, remember that Damien. Vincent Fromm is Damien DiMarco’s friend. Vincent Carrot is Damien Aerosol’s best friend in the whole wide world. Soon, a rainbow will appear in the middle of this dark, dark sky and the heaven’s will open with a slight chorus and little fat pink ponies with stakes lodged to their foreheads would dance around the sky, defying all laws of gravity, thus explaining what that shoe was doing in that guy’s face and everything would be just fine. Sure London would have to watch out for airborne horse droppings, but everything would have its ups and downs.

“Hey, you,” came Vince’s voice in the walkie-talkie, that made arch an eyebrow. “Yea, you. C’mere.” he said again. One eyebrow rose to meet the other. Hello, brother eyebrow how are you doing? Just fine, I just heard Vincent Fromm is talking to himself. Really now, who told you that? Brain did, of course, Brain knows everything. Yes, yes you are quiet right, Brain knows it all… but we are clinging to Skin, so how the hell did you manage to communicate with Brain? I asked Eyes, of course, did you know that they are lodged to Brain? No… I did not know that, makes you wonder what they are doing all day…

That’s how I think my eyebrows would have felt at the time, if they could speak to each other, that is. My eyebrows are idiots. Kind of like Vincent right now. “If you take this and throw it on that car over dere, you’ll earn yourself a hundred bucks.” My eyebrows disappeared into my hair line. I wonder what Vince was talking to, obviously not me, let’s us hope he was talking to someone. Why was he talking like a retard? I had half a mind to mention this tiny detail to my now-retard-like-speaking-friend, but I figured it would be impolite and rude of me to point this out while he was having a conversation in the other line. Whether that line was real or not… well I would worry about that later. The point was I was beginning to wonder what kind of lighter he was throwing to what kind of car. I believe I had pieced which car and what lighter, but part of me didn’t want to know, I rejected the very idea of it. My ears offered the information to my brain, but my brain would refuse to have any of it, instead in turned its attention to my surroundings. Which wasn’t much, really, just the elevator door, and the maroon carpet under my one shoe and my one sock and the pleasant danceable music playing in the elevator which made me think that whoever picked the music to put in the elevator wanted to catch people doing embarrassing things, he was probably in front of that elevator camera even as we speak, looking down at me. He wanted people to randomly start dancing while they thought no one was looking. But of course our dear friend who picked this music would be watching and then the elevator dancing would be cruelly exhibited on YouTube.

“I swear,” I heard Vince continue, “There’s no one in dat car.” he says again. I wish to correct him, there is no one in that car, my dear Vincent, but there are lots of people and cops surrounding that car, my lovely Vince and when that car blows up, love of all loves, then the fire will spread to the surrounding cars, in turn causing more car explosions and killing a lot of innocent people. Then, if the firefighter didn’t get there in hand I’m going to have you strapped down in a firefighting suit and you better get your arse to stopping the fire before it reached anywhere near the buildings I had around this place, because then I would take such expenses out of your bank account and I will make your life miserable till I get everything in tip-top shape. You should consider yourself lucky, if you were to be anyone except my dear friend I would have you castrated then have you eat your own nuts, not a pleasant experience I must assure you, though I have never experienced anything of the like I have no desire to eat my balls and I have a feeling neither do you, thus I suggest you do something about it other than blowing up the car.

I’m just… filming for a... Project... We’re, uh... filming people’s reactions... to fires... and auto wrecks...” Vincent said. I think I just did a face palm, because I certainly did here some smacking of the palmness on the face. I think I might have even mumbled a “You’re an idiot…” but I wasn’t quite sure if I had actually said it or just thought it. But if I had said it, hopefully he heard me. That way he would have my input and commentary on the current situation. “Where are the cameras?” I heard someone else’s voice say. Smart kid, let Vince know how much of an idiot he’s currently being. “They’re hidden ones, so people act natural.” he answered. Great, just great Vince, you’re going to have a complete innocent kid commit a crime and probably cause a few deaths. This is why I like Vince, that was the kind of completely sly and diabolical plans I would do, turn innocent kids into criminals, I think I might have even chuckled. “So if you can do that, I’ll give ya two hundred bucks.” said Vince, raising the stakes, probably so the kid would quit asking, of course this kid wouldn’t do anything for a complete stranger offering money, in London, who in there right mind would? Vince was just pushing the envelope a bit there. “I thought it was one hundred,” he said. Made me think he was a bit… not bright. Kid, you just lost points on the Damien book, go molest another mafia underboss. “Well it’s two hundred now. In cash.” A bit of Vince’s irritation and frustration poured into his words, of course it was only noticeable by someone who knew Vince well, like me. Another person wouldn’t register that kind of small change in his undertone.

“Look, I’ll give you one hundred now, and the other hundred if you do it, alright?” he said, after that there was some silence, which is when the arrogant rich guy walked in, twitching his mustache in irritation towards my general direction and starring at my missing shoe. I immediately thought I didn’t like this guy who stared at my missing shoe, my missing shoe was more expensive than his whole wardrobe, so he better quit starring at it as if my foot had transformed into some sort of alien creature which kept growling, hissing and snapping at him. But of course he just kept starring at it. "Go buy yerself something nice," I heard Vince say over the walkie-talkie, the guy twitched his mustache and gave me a glare. I stuck out my tongue in his direction and the only response he gave was a twitch of his mustache.

“Mind your manners; you never know who has short temper these days.” He said, I figured that was supposed to be a threat. Well you… fag, I am currently carrying a holster and a switchblade with me, if you want to threaten me, make sure you know I am armed and I can shoot you right here if I wanted and then pay the employees not to rat me out, in fact I could shoot you here than go and announce your death and dance atop your body and kick it around all the floors of these buildings. I could cut off your head and put it in a glass case and set it atop my desk and no one would care. Because that, my good man is the meaning of having lots of money to give the world and most of it comes from a chain of illegal crime I have done throughout my life which include torturing and murdering. I suggest you do not play with my temper, my good sir, I am fairly patient, thus I will not shoot your brains out at the moment so consider yourself lucky.

“Problly, I’m sure. Over.” answered Vincent to my question of being arrogant. I would lie and say I wasn’t disappointed, but that would be indeed lying because I was. Then I began to wonder what kind of first impression I would give people, this guy I gave the impression of a shoeless crazy, but what impression would I truly send to someone like… for example Vincent Fromm? Now that was something to wonder, since Vince didn’t like anyone who acted like they had a head full of air, so he wouldn’t be my friend if I acted all snotty and rich guy like, though I probably would give a rich guy scent even from afar. I had money pouring down the pores of my face, after all. Still, I hoped I didn’t give the impression of an ass’ole everywhere I went, it wasn’t the best political move one could give, especially in a business like mine, where everyone was part of a big, crime loving family. I shrugged the subject off, since it wasn’t anything worth breaking my brain over or even thinking about, so shun the subject, shun it.

Oh, in my mental distraction I hadn’t noticed when the guy that twitched his mustache a lot left. Oh well, no loss there, I wouldn’t cry over that, now only if this elevator could get to the ground floor faster I would greatly appreciate it. “Hey Damien, can I drive?” I heard Vincet cheerfully pipe in. Now, what a nice question to consider. Vincent was a good driver and is he had asked me it was because he wasn’t about to break into my baby. So, that was good. But why would he ask in the first place? Now, the only other thing I would have to worry is if Vincent kept the speed slow, that annoyed me to no end, why the hell did I want a fast car if I was keeping below the speed limit? But, knowing Vince he wouldn’t keep the speed slow and I would find my ride pleasant. Then again, was there really a reason I should let him have the car? I mean, I guess that’s what you would do for a friend, let them borrow your nice and fast car. But… did you really do that? Now it turned from a matter of driving the car to something more personal. Of course if Leo would ever, for one reason or another ask me for my car I would barely doubt it, I would just throw him the key and go ‘sure’ but that all depended what I considered Vince and what he considered me. There could be a chance he didn’t consider me his friend at all, just his boss he had to put up with and smile pretty so he could keep his money and do whatever he liked and never get in jail. That… that was depressing, if Vince ever… did that to me… well… just better not think about it at all. No, I would convince myself that I believed I was Vince’s friend and that he thought of me the same way. “Sure.” I answered. Ha! Take that distrustful Damien.

Exactly as I uttered those words, the elevator doors opened with a ding. I looked around the parking lot before merrily heading towards my car. My Saleen S7 Twin-Turbo awaited me, of course. Apparently so did Vincent, because as I neared the car I saw him sitting there, his back against the wheel of my car. I looked at him, noticing the red stains on his shirt, only one thought, one simple horrible thought running through my head and mixing in with my still blood. I had no idea how something so little could affect me so much, but what I had was an unpleasant mix of emotions. A truth I really didn’t want to face, but it circled around me like a vulture looking down at a dying cattle. It couldn’t be avoided, yet I didn’t want to believe it. A single most incriminating phrase.

“You lied to me.”[/i][/b]
[/blockquote]

[DODES]

Now I also wondered if Damien knew I wasn’t exactly fond of murdering others. But then again, I didn’t hate it, either. I had no opinion for it, simply because I had no feelings whenever I did it. I had killed my own brother, for God’s sakes, and did I feel anything then? No. So did you think I was going to feel anything if I did the same to a random bystander? Not really, no. I think I was supposed to like it—I knew Damien did—so that’s how I acted. I acted as though I liked it, but inside, I knew I felt nothing. It made me wonder what Damien felt whenever he killed people. He obviously didn’t regret it—at least, he didn’t make out like he did. No, I believe he liked it because of the experience he got from it. That is why we like things, isn’t it? Because it made us feel good? Yeah… so maybe he felt that twisted, sadistic happiness that I thought I was supposed to feel.

Then again, how was I supposed to know? He was as emotional as a brick wall, and now I was wondering if that was because he felt like he had a reason to hide whatever he felt or because he didn’t feel anything at all. I hoped it wasn’t the latter, because I couldn’t stand to have no feelings toward killing people, so I could hardly imagine how that was 24/7.

Thunder sounded from above, though it was distant and I didn't even see the lightning that was supposed to follow it. But the storm was already brewing and it was only a matter of time before the rain began. I sighed. Rain was always the same. It would descend from the skies, splatter on the ground below, and gather in the cracks and crevices of the street. Normally it would cleanse away dirt and feed the plant growth as well, but here it always seemed to erode the dirt instead of cleanse and drown the plants instead of feed. The only good it did, in my opinion, is decrease the amount of activity there is in the streets. It seemed most people couldn’t stand getting wet.

But I supposed it didn’t matter what opinion you had on the weather because it was going to happen anyway, whether you liked it or not.

So I say let the rain come. It would come anyway. Why was I even thinking about it? It was a stupid and pointless thing to think about, and I should know that I hated stupid, pointless things. But I supposed I hated it less than the thought of Damien growling at me. Then again, I couldn’t ignore it, even with these thoughts I used as distractions. That wasn’t like me. I don’t evade things. I confront them. Or hide them, depending on how I was feeling—and today, I wasn’t feeling in a very confronting mood, in all truth, so I hid whatever it was that I was feeling, where it could join the anger, the hate, the fear, the despair, the emptiness, the malicious, and all those other dark, dark, darkity dark things I don’t particularly like feeling.

“Sorry…” Damien apologized, but this only confused me. I didn’t see any reason for him to apologize. For what? Growling? Oh, well that was no big deal. I was only overreacting. Yeah, that’s it. He had no reason to apologize because I was simply overreacting.

Over the walkie talkie, I said, “Fer vhat? You didn’t do anyfhing. Over.” And that was the truth. He really didn’t do anything. Now see? Wasn’t that much better? Something inside me knew that I wasn’t really resolving anything by hiding it, but I ignored it. Hiding it was good enough for me. It may still be there, but at least you didn’t see it. Take that stain you may have on the carpet as an example. All you have to do to get rid of it is throw a rug or piece of furniture over it, and VOILA, it’s as good as gone. Unless, of course, it was one of those stains that left a nasty smell behind—then the whole ‘hiding’ tactic would’ve backfired on you. Feelings weren’t like that, though. They didn’t leave any nasty scents behind once they were hidden.

Once again, inside I knew I was wrong, and I knew I was only trying to convince myself that what I did was right, but once again, it was only ignored. I was beginning to wonder why I bothered to remind myself of these things, considering how I only snubbed them away.

A short while later, Damien asked me, “Vinnie-the-pooh, do you like gummy bears? Over.” I rose a brow in question, wondering what Damien could possibly be doing to get gummy bears in his head, but I didn’t bother asking since I realized, seconds later, that I didn’t care what his motives behind that question were. I’m sure nothing important could hinder on whether or not I liked gummy bears, so I may as well just answer it. Problem was, though, I didn’t exactly know how to answer. Me as a human was a long while ago, and since then, I haven’t eaten much of anything other than blood, let alone gummy bears. Hell, I could only vaguely remember what the hell gummy bears were, but I knew they were those little colourful candy bears—the name gummy bears sort of gave it away. Still, despite my usually excellent memory, I couldn’t recall if I liked them.

So I figured I should ask he-who-shall-not-be-named here. He’d know the answer.

“Hey Bastard, do I like gummy bears?”
“No, you hated candy, remember?”

Oh yeah, that’s right. I did hate candy. I don’t know why. Chocolate or anything sweet hardly appealed to me. I loosely recall this old friend I had who was always eating these chocolate things—I forget what they were called now—and he’d always offer me and he-who-shall-not-be-named some. Just to be polite (and so he’d stop asking), I’d always take one, but I never liked it. Yeah… I remember that now…

I knew I said I didn’t care why Damien was asking if I liked gummy bears, but now that I knew my answer, I was a tad curious… It was a rather odd—especially since we’re both vampires—and random thing for him to ask. I didn’t go around asking if he liked fuzzy slippers when the conversation had nothing to do with that topic, now did I? “Not really, no. Vhy?” Now that my curiosity was sparked, I don’t think I could handle not knowing—and hopefully he wouldn’t give me an answer like just wondering because people don’t just wonder. There has to be a reason why they wonder—why Damien would suddenly think of gummy bears and ask me about them. I was hoping he knew that was what I meant by asking why and that was the kind of answer I expected.

Then again, I suppose he could just be bored, but just because he was bored didn’t mean that I was, too. I was actually fairly far from bored. While he was wondering about gummy bears and whether I liked them or not, I was down here trying to cover my ass after that high speed chase, then high speed crash, which involved ignoring my headache, trying to get that camera that had a picture of me on it, burning the remains of the crash to destroy the evidence, as well as trying to stop my nose from bleeding. Indeed, I was far from bored.

Turns out that whole trying to stop my nose from bleeding failed the most epically because Damien began questioning it, and without even thinking, I lied. I said it wasn’t my nose that was bleeding, but someone else’s. Now that had to be the absolute worst thing I could’ve done because, for one, lying was one way to lose someone’s trust lickety-split, even if it was for something that minor. I should know all about that, shouldn’t I? Now the best and smartest thing for me to do would be to go home, clean myself up, then meet Damien sometime later. That way he would’ve never known I had been lying, but of course, I only thought of that later, when it was too late—when he had already discovered that I’d been lying.

Goddamn it, I never thought I would hate my impulsiveness more.

But that would all come later when I witnessed the consequences of my little (or major. How was I to know?) slip-up. At the moment, I was trying to convince and bribe a random bystander to light that stolen vehicle on fire so as to destroy the evidence I had left on it. It was a long, frustrating process, in which I was losing my patience, but finally the random bystander set the car aflame, and all it had cost me was two hundred bucks. Man, I was good.

“Mind your manners; you never know who has short temper these days.” I smirked a bit—now I was currently taking my anger out on that camera I had retrieved, while Damien seemed to be getting lectured by some other random bystander of his own. It amused me, which would explain why I now had a smirk plastered across my face. I didn’t bother to say anything, since I was a bit preoccupied with my camera smashing, then after which running toward the parking lot so I wouldn’t attract any further attention. I was fairly certain that I had enough already.

So I got to the parking lot and sat on the pavement next to Damien’s Saleen S7, using its front tire to lean on as I tried to ignore my headache and distract myself with my thoughts whilst I awaited Damien’s arrival. In my boredom, I had even asked if I could drive his vehicle, and in all truth, I never expected him to agree, especially after that whole, you know, car accident incident, but Damien was full of surprises, wasn’t he? “Sure,” he replied, and I think my jaw may have literally dropped open from… shock? Yeah, that. That really wasn’t an answer I was anticipating, and it crossed my mind that he may be simply pulling my leg—saying sure when he had no real intentions of letting me drive. That sounded like something he would do… far more likely than him actually being nice, I believed… But you know, I was hopeful that wasn’t the case and that he actually put enough trust in me to drive. Then again… there was no harm in asking, was there? “Really? And yer not just pullin’ my leg, are ya?” My voice began on a somewhat excited note, but as I continued, that seemed to fade into a casual, and slightly accusing tone. I’m sure he could tell just by my voice that I had a brow raised in skepticism.

Out of boredom, I shall present to you an example scenario of my feelings. Imagine a little kid in a candy store who approaches the cashier with this huge lollipop. It would cost him a whole dollar, but once he reaches the counter, he realizes he doesn’t have any money with him and his mother is waiting for him outside. She didn’t have the patience to wait or give him the money to buy it, so in disappointment, he sets the lollipop down and turns to exit the store.

However, the cashier seemed to be a kind soul, and he tells the kid he could have that lollipop for free. At first, the kid is overjoyed to have his candy, but then he doubts his good fortune. Was the cashier really willing to give up that lollipop for free just to see the kid happy?

Now that’s what I was thinking, except it was Damien instead of the cashier and Vince instead of the kid and Saleen S7 instead of lollipop.

The very thought of it had distracted me so much that I had completely forgotten about that little white lie I had told and the tell tale signs of blood on my white shirt and beneath my nose—all that was left of that nose bleed. It could probably start up again if I moved a bit too hard or a bit too abruptly, but it hardly concerned me. What concerned me was the look Damien had once he got a good look at my shirt.

I swear, if looks could kill, I’d be dead the moment Damien’s eyes left the spots of blood and made eye contact with me. All of a sudden, my headache seemed a whole lot worse.

“You lied to me,” he said, and the tone he used wasn’t too pleasant, I must say. I’m sure he wasn’t feeling too pleasant, either, and I take back my doubts of Damien having no feelings. He felt things, just like I did. I could see that now.

And it’s been a long while since I’ve felt so guilty.

I think I may have panicked, and I had half a mind to hide behind one of these cars so Damien couldn’t see me and burn holes through me with those laser eyes of his. But that would be a bit pointless since he already figured out that I had lied, and hiding wouldn’t help any. He would only find me if I did, I'm sure.

I found it ironic how I could kill people in the blink of an eye, yet I couldn’t lie to Damien about a nose bleed without feeling like a piece of crap. I suppose you could add guilt to my ‘feelings I don’t particularly like’ list. Now imagine that kid with the lollipop scenario again. The kid was eternally grateful toward the cashier for allowing him to take the lollipop, but the mother waiting outside had lost her patience. In her rage, not only had she smashed the lollipop to pieces, but she had thrown the cashier’s other candied products across the room, destroying those as well.

Now in this scenario, I was not only the kid, but the mother, too. My feelings were a mixture of anger, disappointment, guilt, and shame. May as well add all those to the list, too. And the cashier? Well, I was betting he felt fairly angry as well—and betrayed.

There were several ways I could respond to this entire situation—it all depended on which emotion I chose to act on. My initial reaction was to avoid eye contact because of shame as I pondered this entire situation. I suppose I could go with the anger—it was a nose bleed, for God’s sakes. So what if I lied about it? It was no big deal. I could understand it if I had lied about a piece of metal that went through me like a shish kabob, but a nose bleed? Geez Louise, I wasn’t dying or anything.

But I supposed it wasn’t about the nose bleed anymore—just the fact that I had lied about it.

Getting angry would be like the equivalent of giving up, I believed, because I knew that if I reacted in that way, it certainly wouldn’t turn out with a happy ending. I just knew that much already. And by giving up, I mean not just on this friendship, but life itself. It kind of went hand in hand, really. If I fucked this up, well, I wasn’t about to give myself another chance. There were first chances, and there were second chances, but after that, you’re pretty much a lost cause. The way I saw it, it was like this: imagine you put your finger in this foreign, dark place while trusting nothing would happen to it, and seems alright at first. But then, when you remove your finger, you realize that the first bit has been chopped off. You believed that dark place wouldn’t harm you—you trusted it, but look what it did. It not only hurt you, but it took a piece of you with it.

Now you put your wounded finger in that dark place the second time. You thought you would have learnt your lesson that first time, but no. You realized that life with only part of a finger was a dull and listless one filled with despair. And you liked that dark place—at least, you did until it betrayed you and chopped a bit of your finger off. You’re hoping it won’t be the same as before, but once again, it betrays you and you find that the second part of your finger is gone—poof—and you’ll never see it again. Now all you’re left with is a stump of a finger and the feelings you had before are twice as intense as they were previously. You don’t try it a third time because you know only the same thing will happen, and you’ll be left with nothing—not even a stump. So you keep that little stump of yours, but you’re life is never the same, simply because you’re not happy with that stump. You’re miserable, basically, is what I’m getting at.

Did you like that little analogy of mine? Well, I hope you did, because that was the symbolization of my life and how I expected it to turn out. I was already on my second chance—that first part of my finger has already been taken from me, and I didn’t want to lose the second. I liked my finger as it is, thank you very much, and I would not like to trade it in for a stump. I didn’t want to fuck this up, so therefore, responding to this with anger wouldn’t be the best thing to do, even if it was something I was feeling, because, you know… I’m fairly sure Damien wouldn’t be too fond of the things I’d had to say.

So that option was definitely out.

I could hide what I was feeling like I had done earlier and apologize, but that thing inside me knew that nothing would be resolved that way. Saying sorry doesn’t solve anything—I knew that.

I couldn't even go with my instinct and lie again because that would only worsen the entire situation, I'm sure.

I could explain why I had lied… but what would I say? That it’s an old habit of mine? That I didn’t want you to know about the nose bleed? Why not? Because I didn’t want you to worry about it. Who said I was going to worry about it? Nobody, I guess… Exactly. I don’t give two shits about you, Vincent. Go fuck yourself.

Okay, based on that little conversation I had with myself, that wouldn’t be the best thing to do, either.

Hey, I know. Why don’t I ask he-who-shall-not-be-named what I should do? I haven’t lied to him much, but I’m sure I did once or twice, and I’m sure neither of those occasions went too well. I knew better than to lie to he-who-shall-not-be-named, but apparently I didn’t know Damien well enough yet, so I was going to have to fix that.

Anyway, for these purposes, we’ll call he-who-shall-not-be-named Bastard because he-who-shall-not-be-named gets tiring to say—plus, Bastard suits him.

“So, Bastard, I’ve just lied to you. What should I do?”

Instead of giving an answer, I was given a flashback. It began the same, with the you lied to me in the not-so-pleasant voice, but I answered with, “For your own good.”
“For my own good? What about you? I could’ve helped you.”
“For God’s sakes, you’re not my keeper. If I wanted your fucking help, I would fucking ask for it.”

…

Wow, Bastard didn’t help me at all… that bastard. He just gave me another thing I shouldn’t say and I had enough of those already. Geez, I don’t even know what we were arguing over there… but that’s not important. What was important was discovering the correct way to respond that would piss Damien off the least. This was a lot harder than it sounded, mind you, and I had half the mind to just get up and go, “OH, is that really the time? Well, I better be going,” then run home as fast as I could. But that would be the equivalent to giving up as well, and I don’t give up easily—although I couldn’t help but wonder how long I’ve been sitting here, staring at the pavement with no response. Maybe I should sneak a glance of Damien… he could have left already, and I wouldn’t’ve even noticed. I knew he was patient and all, but geez… I really could not think of the right thing to do. Even Bastard couldn’t help me—then again, why did I expect him to? He was a bastard, after all.

But I looked up toward where Damien was standing real quick, then I supposed whatever I saw convinced me to think a little harder.

Okay, okay, here’s another scenario for my contemplation. I could go with the, “You didn’t need to know,” thing, and here’s how I picture Damien’s reply: “… Is there anything else I didn’t need to know?” Oh pff, there’s plenty of things, Damien. Plenty of them. And I’m sure you have plenty you’re not telling me, either. I suppose if you hate lying so much, you wouldn’t be able to lie to me, would you, Damien? No, then you’d just be a hypocrite. Are you a hypocrite, Damien? If I were to ask you something right now, would you answer it truthfully, Damien? Hmm… this would be much easier if you could read minds, Damien.

Hey Bastard, would I piss you off if I asked why you hated lying? You would answer, wouldn’t you? Well it doesn’t matter if you would or not because you’re not Damien. You’re not all secretive and mysterious-like. You trusted me, Bastard, and I’m not so sure Damien does anymore. Yeah, I fucked up. I made a mistake, didn’t I? Yep… a big boo-boo… Do you think I’d be able to kiss this one better? Heh… heheheh…

Ah goddamn it, I should stop amusing myself with my thoughts. This was no time to be amused. This was a time to be serious. I had dug myself in a hole, a pitch black hole, and there was Damien, holding onto my hand as I dangled over that hole. At first, I think he was helping me out of it, but now I imagined his grip was slipping, and I was frantic. I didn’t want to go back there. I wanted to leave that black emptiness behind, and the only way I could do that was through Damien, but I think he was losing faith in me. Deep down, I knew I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t that great of a friend, I must say. All I did was get into trouble, worry him, then lie about it. At least, that was today’s trend. I could prove myself, though. Next time I’ll just… not lie about my nose bleed. There. Problem solved.

That is, if Damien gave me a next time.

I’m sure I was just overreacting again… It was a nose bleed—big deal, right? Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Vince. Maybe by the hundredth time, you’ll believe it.

Okay, so there I was, dangling over that pitch black hole I dug myself with only Damien holding on to me, desperate not to fall and desperate not to piss Damien off so he wouldn’t let me (man, I really needed to stop with this analogy shit). I finally met his gaze, casual now instead of ashamed. His eyes no longer made me want to hide or run—but that could change depending on how he replied to what I had to say. But I had regained my composer and confidence, even though that beneath the surface, I still had doubts. But oh well. No use crying over spilt milk, was there? Nope. All you had to do was clean it up—but some milk was easier to clean than others. I think this was one of those non-easy cleaning milks. Or maybe it just seemed non-easy cleaning, but then it was and you realized you made this huge mess of it for nothing. Yeah, hopefully it was one of those…


Anyway, I finally—FINALLY (I mean, I don’t think I’ve thought for so long on one subject in my life… Okay, that was probably an exaggeration, but you have the idea) asked, “Vhy do ya hate lying?” Honest to goodness question right there. I was truly curious. Now was it the right thing to say? Who knows. But that’s what happens when I go, ‘fuck feelings, I’m going with logic.’

But really now, why did he? I didn’t hate it… that much… If Damien had lied to me about a nose bleed, I wouldn’t care. I’d simply go, “Oh. Okay then.” But no, for Damien, it was some ‘you lied to me’ deal, and one couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe it was just that whole paranoid thing of his… yeah, maybe… Or maybe something he always hated… the same way I’ve always hated chocolate for some unknown reason. Perhaps that was the case… But if it wasn’t, and Damien had an actual reason for it, I realized that he probably wouldn’t tell me. You know, the whole… lying to him, losing his trust thing.

But you know, maybe if I explained why I lied, he’d explain why he hated liars. It made sense, didn’t it? It’s kind of balances itself out, you know? Yeah… maybe… “I only lie to hide somefhing you might not needa know about. No reason to hate dat, is dere?” I continued, curious once more. What surprised me was that I was actually making sense, though I wasn’t too sure if Damien would feel the same way… Eh… if he didn’t give me a chance, then pfff, I’ll just… pay someone to be a better friend than Damien… Yeah, good idea… That would work… until I ran out of money, but that wouldn’t be for a long while, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, now that I was no longer thinking so damn much, I realized that my head wasn’t feeling much better than what it was like a few minutes ago—so it was aching pretty damn bad, basically. Well then, that will be a fun thing to have throughout this entire conversation…

Of course, that was sarcasm. It would be absolutely horrible.

Holy shit, that was WAY too long... rofl.

HOORAY, new post record. No idea how I'm gonna beat that now... rofl.

[AKREE]

Thoughts sometimes had a way to crawl slowly back to your brain, creeping from the shadows, from where you had stuffed them back, hoping they wouldn’t show themselves again. But they were still there, just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect time to strike out like a poised predator. The worst thing was, that it not only was things, feelings, memories you wanted to forget, they were things that hurt, never wanting for anyone to see them, to even suspect you were hiding such things. Worst of all, they had no schedule to stick out their ugly rear ends; they just did, at the worst of times. Sometimes I wondered if my luck was really that bad or if I really deserved all the things that just came my way. Of course there was really no use complaining, it served absolutely no purpose, when did complaining solve anything? What I needed to do was act, do my best to shove them back, don’t let anyone see them, push them at the bottom of your closet like all those unused, dirty clothes, with those pictures that you just looked at them and shivered from the memory. Push them at the very darkest corner of your closet, close the door, wave goodbye as the last of the light filtered through, don’t see them again. But then, you would loose something, a pair of shoes, a shirt and you had to force yourself to dig in your closet, stumbling again on those ugly souvenirs. Hide them from view; no one saw them, no one will. Of course that’s when your friend caught you growling.

Now, what would I explain to him? That I didn’t mean for him to find me digging in that closet, that I hadn’t meant to growl at him? I didn’t want for Vincent to feel guilty because of my mistake, it wasn’t his fault. He shouldn’t feel guilty, no, no, no that would be just wrong. I hated guilt and, perhaps, the only person that every got close to make me feel something similar to it was Vincent. I could be mad at him, but I simply got angry at my own thoughts. Why did I let them wander? Nothing good could come from my memories, nothing ever did. Of course, there was no fixing it now. Take those photographs and stuff them in a shoebox, back to that dark corner, don’t look at them again. Sounded easy, but now I had to fix my Vincent ordeal, the last thing I wanted was for Vincent to feel… guilty, I guess. He had nothing to feel guilty about. I wonder what kind of reaction Vince would get if I randomly started cussing and cursing, he… probably would think it was meant for him, or because of him, because there was absolutely no way someone like me would just blow up into a little sailor’s mouth simply because of that little mistake. Clean up your act. Yes, act. That was a good option I’ve heard if there ever was one, I’ll just… do something. I would have to wait for Vincent to give me the chance of course, he still hadn’t replied to my last statement. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t like his answer though. Vincent already had sounded like he blamed himself, he might perhaps think I had apologized for… well not making him feel bad, and knowing Vince he would reject the very idea of it, he would deny that and might even deny my own apology. I didn’t hand out something like an apology if I didn’t feel it was absolutely necessary I did, and with Vince I had apologized. How to get it through that thick coconut-like head of his that I hadn’t meant to growl at him. Seriously, it was more complicated than it sounded.

I should be angry at myself for that. Why had I been growling at Vince, he was supposed to be your friend for god’s sake? Just… try to figure out what you’re feeling Damien, yes, do that. What was I feeling? Of course it was like looking through muddy water, almost every time I didn’t know what I was feeling, what would the difference be now? Because I willed it, suddenly I will start knowing what I feel. Then my heart would grow three times its true size and I will realize deep in my soul the true meaning of Christmas, then everyone would hold hands and sing a Christmas carol around the building and I will magically feel compelled to sing a song, then I will realize that I there is no friend better than Vince Monkey and I would truly apologize from my heart and talk about all my troubles and a gay fag rainbow will appear in that black sky and I will realize what a beauty this city truly is and live happily after that and get married and have ten children all of which won’t repeat their father’s mistake and live happy, innocent, corrupt-less lives of joy.

Of course, all that was sarcasm and not to be taken seriously.

There was still the matter of Vince. What would I do about this pesky little problem I currently find myself in the middle of? Of course, I shouldn’t get angry, there was no reason for me to get angry after all, when I got angry nothing came out right… and people suddenly disappeared only to reappear with dead unblinking eyes starring at the jet black sky while their bodies floated in the cold water that was the river. Of course, that always happened, or someone suddenly disappeared, locked in a house, their screams echoing and bouncing off the woods, yet no one would hear such petty screeches of anguish, no one would, because it would be a desolate area, all alone, way from any hearing ears except maybe a few crocodiles. Limbs would be throws to the water and watch as the black liquid bubbled back to life as jaws snapped closed around pale limbs. There would be no body, except in the crocodile’s bellies, which was a lovely way to get rid of messy, bloody evidence. Either way, things simply would keep going their old rhythm, it was common for people to suddenly disappear and never appear again in London, it was a thing of everyday life in such a corrupt city. That was the best thing about being a criminal in London, the police and detectives were so flooded with other cases, that when a new one popped up, they would either have to leave one of the old ones which they thought was hopeless and pick up the new one, or ignore the new case and continue with the old ones. It all depended if the criminal was lucky enough that the cops found little evidence, thus little hope to break that case and as more time passed that the murder was committed, less hope they had to actually solve the crime. It worked well.

Well, at least for the local murderers, serial killers and mafia.

Either way I promised myself I wouldn’t let my thought wander, I should be figuring out what I was feeling. Then again, did I want to know what I’m feeling? No, of course not, that would only bring trouble, I should just concentrate on what Vince would say and figure out my reply to said comment, in such a way it would make Vincent feel better, that’s what I needed. Why do I have to make such a big deal out of things? The matter was simple, I just explain to Vince and leave it like that’s then we would have a good laugh out of it. Of course, I would have to purposely leave out the part that I was thinking of how much I enjoyed torturing the guy who had killed my older brother in front of my eyes, that would be difficult to explain, especially since I didn’t want anyone to know that… of course I would skip that part and everything would be just fine. See, simple enough, Damien, nothing to fracture your cranium about. “Fer vhat? You didn’t do anyfhing. Over.” was what Vincent replied. I felt like pointing out the obvious, that I had growled at him for no good reason, I mean, really was Vincent playing idiot with me? I knew he was no idiot; he was serving directly under me, of course. He wouldn’t be an idiot, idiots didn’t work such important positions inside a mafia nor did they win such extensive and multiple zero salaries. No, of course not, so Vincent was playing idiot with me. I almost sighed in annoyance at the though, but I figured Vince would interpret it into something he thought was what my sigh of annoyance meant and/or was directed. He would think it was directed at something, like pointing out his idioticy, when it wasn’t that, at least not in that way. It was simply pointing out he shouldn’t be playing dumb with me. Either way, I completely avoided the sighing because of that, simple enough.

“The growling, don’t take it personally.” I stated, in my original Damien flat, emotionless voice. Vince was used to it of course, so the only way my voice would make him fall out of his seat or make his brain do a back-flip is if I expressed any emotion at all. Now, if I said it in a horrible peppy voice, full of glee I am completely sure Vincent would be all “Who are you and what have you done with Damien?!” In fact, that would be a funny way to annoy the crap out of him, or at least make him doubt my mental health, if I randomly replied in a voice full of glee. I mean, there wasn’t a gleeful pore in my body, there was no single part of Damien fill with glee, a brick wall would express more glee than I ever could manage before I went into a self destruct mode and exploded from so much emotion. Either way, Damien is not full of glee, Damien has no glee, in fact if you were to take some of Damien and pour it in a gleeful person, that person would be the opposite of glee, they would be un-glee. They would be glee-less, absolutely no glee would inhabit that person’s body, because Damien’s un-gleeness would spread throughout their body like some sort of disease and eat up their glee from the inside out, leaving only a dry glee-less husk behind resembling a human being. That’s how much glee I had. I would literally swallow the glee out of any person, so I thought that I replied any of Vincent’s statements with glee he would be at least confused, worse scenario he might actually make himself do something stupid as the shock passed through his body and maybe kill himself. Would I feel guilty or amused by his stupid death? No, I would be too crushed to be amused… then again you never knew with my sadist instinct, now did you?

I had stuffed a yellow gummy bear in my mouth, making sure to bite of his head before I stuffed the headless body to my mouth, chewed on it than swallowed. I seriously should stop eating gummy bears, I’ll get sick and there will be hell to pay, especially for Vince that would be –hopefully- the one to get worried about poor ol’ Damien boy. Well, either way I could just make myself a pest to everyone around me and vomit blood and gummy bear remains o anyone who being especially annoying, that would be easy and amusing enough. In fact that would be bloody brilliant. In fact I should try that someday, it would amuse me… when I felt better… or why don’t I just try it on one of my dear employees, not Vince of course… the first thing he’d do was head my way with his sickness and that wouldn’t do. No, I needed someone else, someone who would be to useless to direct his bloody vomit away from people’s shoes… someone stupid. I just needed a vampire, then I would replace their blood with something like human juice, it had to be someone stupid and who trusted everything and everyone so he wouldn’t even think of checking the blood, just swallow it all up, all the juice, maybe kool-aid. Yes, make them drink it all up then watch as the he vomited random bystanders and anyone lucky enough to get on his way. That would be amusing, in fact a slight sadistic smile might have spread for a moment through my features before I noticed and quickly removed it from my face. How dare thee place itself across my cheeks? You had no right, now a smite-eth thee.

There was silence when I asked Vince if he liked gummy bears, silence in which I tried to recall how many of them I had eaten, after a while of nothing coming to my mind, I really couldn’t remember, I decided I had enough and set myself as being lucky that I wasn’t sick. I looked at the rest of the German colored bears longingly and figured that I would have some more tomorrow, or something, wait no I promised myself I would have some more tomorrow, don’t get me wrong I loved blood and in my opinion there was nothing better than tasty and salty, metallic tasting blood, but gummy bears were pretty good to, I enjoyed human sweets. Of course blood was my number one must eat, well of course being a vampire and all it was supposed to be my number one food, else I’d be in… an awkward position, hell it was everything I ate, basically. A side of human sweets helped every now and then, but blood was numero uno. Most definitely. Did Vince perhaps not miss human food; there would be variety, right? Well, don’t look at me, how the hell am I supposed to know? My type of variety is and has always been Type O, Type A, Type B or Type AB, there was also negative and positive, but that was as wide and raging as it got. Now humans, I didn’t know if it was they didn’t like their food or something, or their taste constantly changes or that it was simply that they weren’t satisfied, but they sure had a hell of a lot of food to go around, types and kinds and flavors and still they tried to come up with more. Now I wondered if Vince missed that kind of variety, then again he wasn’t the type to complain and hell he might not even remember what human food tasted like, but still. Guess it all depended on whether he liked change or not, then again I could just ask him. But I guess what stopped me from asking was out of respect for Vince, it was his life after all. It was silly and stupid, if it had been anyone else I would have opened my mouth and rudely asked, but I guess that’s one of the things that come along with the great feeling of friendship.

“Not really, no. Vhy?:” said Vince, followed by a question.

First I was busy wondering how someone didn’t like decapitating gummy bears, everyone did. From the most innocent child to the most savage serial killer, if you would ask anyone if they enjoyed to thoroughly chew through the heads of rainbow colored gummy bears they would answer yes, it was the normal answer, I guess. Now why would Vince dislike that feeling, I wondered. Maybe he just had a thing with… gummies… in shape of bears, what about gummy whales? Gummy dolphins? Gummy horses? Gummy sharks? I enjoyed biting the tails, fins, legs and head out of those, maybe he was a vegetarian and didn’t eat animal crackers either, of course he was a cannibalistic vegetarian, because he drank human blood… not animal, human blood, well that made perfect sense in its own way, I guess. No, that was just stupid and I was kidding myself, but I was indeed curious about why would Vincent disliked such a thing as gummy bears, that was wrong, that was very wrong, that was so very wrong people should be thrown to jail and spanked repeatedly in the buttocks for even thinking such a thing. To think I was offering such a thing as a gummy bear to Vince, in fact I shouldn’t offer, I should shove it down his throat. I would make him chew and swallow than go “YOU LIKE GUMMY BEARS YUM.” And yeah, that was a joke, I’m bad at joking but I wouldn’t do that to anyone unless I was using it as some sort of torture, like the water-drop torture. That was a funny way of driving someone crazy, though boring for a time, I just enjoyed how the brain would be affected by something as a small water-drop. If you ask me that was an amusing way to go down.

Anyways…

Vince had asked why I had asked in the first place. I could just say just wondering or me bring bored, but Vince wouldn’t like that, it was something about small talk that we both despised so I guess I should open my mouth, just like I’m doing now adjust the earpiece of the walkie-talkie and say: ”I have gummy bears with me right now. Over” I explained, thinking about how I could really use something to eat other than a simple gummy bear, that would be just great if I could have anything to eat other than a simple gummy bear, it would be just great if I could have something, like oh I don’t know… blood. Yes some tasty, warm, fresh blood, not the type that went in packets, but the type that you could swallow out of some hapless victim’s neck. That would be just swell if I could have a bite right about now, that would be just fantastic. I wondered if Vince was hungry, surely he wouldn’t complain if we got a bite, after all we vampires have to eat to? Right?

There was nothing to say as I busily headed down the stairs, barely stopping to look at my surroundings as I opened the door to lead inside the building itself, only a few heads had turned in my direction and that was nothing to worry or panic about, people in this building were obviously bored shitless, had nothing to do than stare at their arse the whole day so a random stranger walking through the doors of a fire staircase was like some kind of celebrity, especially random strangers who had lost their shoe and had killed someone with that missing shoe, I still wondered if Vince had the thought of picking it up, although the only thing the cops would have was a shoe-size and the knowing that whoever had killed the guy had money, that was enough to single out a few people and I didn’t need to be one of the people singled out, especially since some people saw me walking on my way to the elevator with only my black sock and the other expensive shoe, next time I go out, I’m wearing sneakers. At least that was the mental note I made as the ding sound of the elevator made the metal doors slide smoothly open to reveal the elevator interior, which to my luck was empty. As I climbed in the elevator there was notable silence in which I began to randomly ponder subjects which were mostly useless.

Like for example, I pondered a bit on what would my grandfather be thinking when he first made Izan, I hadn’t known him so that was a mystery which would remain unanswered. Then I started to ponder if vampire were affected by chemicals weapons, I reasoned that airborne wouldn’t do any harm, we only needed air to talk so it didn’t really stay in our bodies, they couldn’t kill us with human food, because we mostly drank blood. So I figured the only way was that a vampire decided it was a good idea to feed of an infected person’s blood, which would be incredibly stupid and even then I wasn’t sure it was technically going to kill any vampire, maybe make us drowsy and vomit a bit, our bodies didn’t work the same as humans and we were technically already dead. Then I pondered about animal mutations and wondered if any two headed fire-breathing dog with beady red eyes and retractable claws would soon pop up and wipe out man kind. Although that would amuse me I figured it wouldn’t do much good to the economy and most of London’s cops would retire and leave it to some sucker who still had hope to resolve some murders and break a case of one kind of another.

Anyways, my point was those were the kinds of subjects I pondered there.

After that some mustached guy which reminded me of the English rich version of Mario’s with his potbelly came into the elevator and would twitch his mustache at me and glare with mean beady eyes. In which I would stick out my tongue and receive what I thought was some kind of speech on how manners could affect someone’s life. Well geez random twitchy mustache guy, if manners are so great why do you keep glaring at me like that? Can you read my thoughts and tell I am completely sneering at you and wishing I could draw my gun and shoot your kneecap and laugh at your pain and screams of anguish then simply make my getaway and be home in time for dinner? No, I don’t think so, because my mind is to complex for you to understand, now isn’t it? I know the true meaning behind your twitchy facial hair and it’s quite simple to comprehend, you are simply trying to appear menacing and smart, well I am afraid to tell you that you are as frightening as a fluffy bunny in a poodle suit.

After that the guy left who to my amazement I didn’t notice, anyways that’s around the time when Vince asked if he could drive. There was some pondering in the subject; after all I was risking my baby’s life out there. Then I figured Vince was a fair enough driver and if I was ever to let anyone drive my Saleen S7 Twin-Turbo it might as well be him, I trusted Vince after all and ended up responding with a fairly easy-going and good natured ‘sure’ as my response. There was some silence in which I had enough time to feel disappointed, was I really such a bad person that I wouldn’t let my friend borrow my own car and be Vince-like? I didn’t want to think it was that, because I think I might get that feeling which is similar-in-a-faint-way-to-guilt-but-way-to-far-off-at-the-same-time-to-be-actual-guilt. I didn’t like that feeling and I think it didn’t even count as a feeling, just some… Damien emotion, only available to Damien and no one else, that was about to emerge from deep inside me. It was just there, like a caged animal scratching at the surface and urging to come out, because feeling had to be caged, I simply checked the lock and kept walking by, nothing to feel about Damien, Vincent had his own reason for silence that was it. Maybe he just though it was me messing with him, which was a huge relief in comparison to that almost-feeling. I enjoyed teasing Vincent, I did it almost every chance I got, it annoyed Vince and his annoyment amused me, it was that simple.

”Really? And yer not just pullin’ my leg, are ya?” he asked in a bit of an excitement tone which progressed to something like skepticism in the end, it was almost accusing I felt mock-insulted. But I couldn’t help grinning at his insinuations and I might have even chuckled a bit like a little kid who had just been caught taking a cookie from the cookie jar atop the fridge, his hands in the jar as the mother approached to watch his son’s face stuffed with chocolate chips cookies. ”Me? Teasing you? Vince that’s just preposterous, why, I would never attempt such a devious action.” I put on my best indignant and insulted voice, which although wasn’t exaggerated, expressed just enough of those two emotions to actually sound like a meant my words, which amused me. I could be such a good actor when I wanted to be. I chuckled a bit, just almost seeing Vince’s annoyed face as he got my words through the walkie-talkie earpiece. I let some silence fall between us, just for dramatic effect before saying: ”Of course I’m not pulling your leg Vincent, you can drive, cross my heart and hope to die.”

[/color] I said with a smirk plastered across my face, it felt awkward in my face, but either way it dropped as soon as it came and I was soon making my way as swiftly as vampirically possible to my car so as not to keep jolly ol’ Vince Monkey waiting.

Of course all thoughts of joy and teasing left me so quickly I was quite sure I would actually experience vertigo.

My eyes landed on that single red spot on his shirt, it was so clear that it had poured down his nose, his lips, down his chin and soaked the fabric of his shirt. He had been bleeding, he lied to me. Vince actually lied to me, why would he do that? He knew how much I despised liars how many times had he lied to me before? I left all the paperwork in Izan to him; he could just as well be doing whatever the hell he wanted with them, taking advantage of my trust. He could even just lie to me at a daily basis, he… lied. I think I felt betrayed, no I was sure I felt betrayed, someone I trusted so… completely would simply lie to me like that? Looking at that blood stain almost made me feel woozy, I don’t think I have actually felt such a strong emotion as the complete and total hate I would feel for Bryan my very thought curled, hissed and snapped at the word like some kind of horrible curse word, something so disgusting it didn’t even deserve to be there in my head, much less in the outside world for all to see. It had no reason to be there, that emotion, it shouldn’t be there; in fact I was actually surprised by my self-control at the moment. As I raised my gaze and met Vince’s eyes with my own glare, a glare which expressed not the feeling of betrayal, but that complete and total hatred reserved for my brother. What I was surprised was that I normally wouldn’t give anyone a chance to explain themselves, I hated excuses. I would have pulled my gun, regardless of whom might be watching, not caring for anything else, just that lie. Pointed the barrel at his head and fired a couple of rounds to make sure he was dead, I wouldn’t wait for a petty excuse, I wouldn’t have even thought of doing anything else except for killing the bastard. Then I would simply worry about cleaning the evidence, taking the body dumping it somewhere and bye-bye troubles, I wave good-bye and speed away to get rid of the car, maybe chop up the body and burn it, really such a simple matter, that’s what I would normally do.

But with Vincent, I was truly willing and curious to listen to his explanation, I mean… I trusted Vince. There was Bryan but I’d always despised him, always hate his guts always wished him dead. But Vince was another matter entirely, I trusted Vincent, I truly believed he was my friend and that he would have some sort of explanation I would believe and everything would be better. I wasn’t willing to throw our friendship away because of what could be a mistake, it maybe that I was stupidly hoping that Vincent didn’t constantly lie to me. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stand having only myself to trust and I truly wanted Vince to have as a friend as stupid and gay as that might sound, but I guess I just missed Leo that much to just replace him cruelly with someone else. I didn’t see Vince as a replacement, I just saw him as someone I got along with and could trust. That was it, I didn’t want to simply take something like that and shoot it in the head, no at all. Which is why I actually awaited patiently for Vince’s reply, secretly hoping he had some kind of reason that I would believe, that I could believe.

It was stupid and idiotic to think I could just listen to Vincent and go “Yes, yes, you’re completely right to have lied to me!” because I ran through my head of possible reasons and replies Vince could give and neither of them pleased me. He could just say “It isn’t that serious…” Well, now that was something, it isn’t that serious, is it? Well, pray tell what other things that aren’t serious would you have happened not to tell me? Well? “Uhh…” Thought so. Another possible one could be: “Everyone lies.” Everyone lies now, eh? Well, afraid to tell you that I haven’t told you a single lie, so not everyone. How the hell can that justify a lie anyways? “Uhh…” Thought so. Then there could probably be: “You didn’t need to know.” Oh god, didn’t I now? Of course I didn’t need to know, but now I wonder what other things I didn’t need to know? Well? “Uhh…” Thought so. Maybe even an idiotic reply like: “We’re friends we are made to forgive!” If I got that crap reply I would respond by shooting. Or maybe some apologizing “I’m sorry…” Sorry? If you’re so sorry why did you lie in the first place? There was no reason to lie if you would be sorry afterwards, now would you? “Uhh…” Though so. Oh, hell he might even give me a “For your own good.” OH HELL, really now, wow interesting. How would a nose bleed harm me in any way shape or form? I didn’t think it would, in other words, it wouldn’t be for my own good, you just maybe… oh I don’t know, constantly lie to me? Does that sound about right? I bet it those, maybe in your head, but not mine. “Uh…”


See, there was absolutely no explanation for his lying, he just did because he wanted to lie, what else would he lie to me about? Would he truly betray me and go to the extent of my last underboss which was to backstab me? He tried to rat me out for money, betrayed me, let the police know about most of my plans, so one by one my employees got killed or in jail, I was suspicious, immediately I began investigating everyone that I thought could be doing such a thing, of course whoever it was, was clearly covered up, someone got his back. Someone covered his footsteps and cleared his fingerprints, I couldn’t find him and it would probably be to late when I did. But Vince had figured it out, caught him in the act and had saved my Italian arse. That’s why I trusted Vince, because he had proven to be trustworthy, because he had saved my crime-loving arse and I was immensely grateful for the bastard. That’s what basically got Vince in the position he is in, but he couldn’t have possibly gone into such extreme heights only to backstab me, right? That, was cruel, that was beyond cruel. Now I truly believed that what was in your mind was the worst kind of torture there could possibly be and I was actually nice enough not to even think of exploiting such point of view.

Vincent had dropped his gaze; he wouldn’t meet mine, so maybe I could hope? Hope that he was ashamed that he didn’t mean to lie? Then again he could just be thinking of another lie and wouldn’t be able to look at me, because his eyes would reveal what he was thinking…

I shouldn’t be thinking, I was making things worse on myself, just shut your internal blabber and concentrate on Vincent.

It was quiet for some time, it could have been ten seconds or it could have been three hours, but I stood there, waiting for Vince’s response, patiently. Like always, eventually he raised his gaze, to sneak a peek at me and quickly positioned it somewhere else. I wasn’t glaring so much now, I simply had my deadly serious and in business expression, which meant I wasn’t joking nor teasing. But whatever it was, it seemed to put more stress on Vince, what was he thinking? I wanted to know what he was thinking so I could know if he truly was attempting to backstab me, what I wanted was for all my suspicions to be merely that, suspicions. Nothing more, nothing else, than I would have a good nervous laugh about it all.

“Vhy do ya hate lying?” I heard Vince say, I met his gaze to see that he was serious, he actually meant the question, however I was reluctant to answer, it wasn’t something he would understand, now would it? He didn’t see anything wrong in lying, he had lied to me, after all, for his own reasons but he had. Besides I rarely spoke on my opinion about something, anything at all I would prefer to keep my thoughts to myself. It was something that was ingrained into my brain for my earliest memories and here was Vince, openly asking me that I should speak of my opinions and what not. “I only lie to hide somefhing you might not needa know about. No reason to hate dat, is dere?” This time I glared at Vince, what a nice reason to lie to something and what else might I not need to know Vince, is there more than a simple nose bleed? Eh Vince, must be more than that, right? But… I should really reconsider before I spoke, me and Vincent had just been joking a while ago, I just couldn’t… make that go away now, right? It wasn’t fair of me…

“But if you lie to me about something as stupid as a nose bleed, what else are you going to lie to me about?”[/blockquote]

((FINALLY REPLIED GOD THAT WAS LONG))