a lifeless body is so little valued | [C] Amos

[markdaniels]

Having passed general security (who never seemed to like him, it seemed) he entered the final lap to victory. Checking in at the secretarial office that headed the wing, he showed his ID to the female attendant, exchanged idle banter, and then was directed (as if he really needed to be directed by now) to the area where… his particular field was handled. Walking along the halls he observed little. He passed a few souls, all of whom were in suits and looked so very fresh and crisp… but paid them as much mind as they paid him - none. All of them looked familiar however, and he noted that whenever he was at ‘Base’. He knew them by picture, name, and stats. He hadn’t the clearance for the more interesting files, but the Lady had thrown him and his team a bone, giving them small run-ups on the individuals who worked at D.O.G.S. ‘Just incase’, she said, though the way she spoke had always made Mark smile a little. She seemed the type who’d make that ‘just incase’ happen, to be utterly honest… Quite a tricky woman she was, and dangerous as well. Dangerous to the point the knew better than to pry, or to even inquiry about his missions and their purpose in the scheme of things. He knew, simply, to regard the woman carefully. He was expendable to her. If he got in the way, or if it even served her purpose… she would kill him. Something he was remarkably comfortable with. There was no loyalty in this game. Nah. But loyalty was overrated, wasn’t it?

Loyalty was overrated, as Mark himself knew. Returning from his latest assassination he had interesting things to report. One, being that he was shot by the motherfucker THEY wanted him to work with. That human guy, yeah, that one? The asshole who they thought would be an ‘excellent addition to the division, who would prove most useful in another sector of the military force, but who needed a little experience and testing out before he was properly positioned’, yeah, that one? That one, oh, well, that one was a traitor. A fucking traitor who shot him. Thinking about it angered Mark somewhat. Aggravated him, got under his skin. He absolutely hated it when SHE interfered in things. He liked his team. He liked how things were. Now she was trying to use his little bomb squad to test her idiots? He hated it. And he couldn’t help it if the next little experiment she sent to him didn’t just get shot plain and simple the first moment Daniels got. He was tired of it. Tired. And being shot didn’t add much to settling his stomach about these ‘wildcards’ she gave him to use. His three-man team was fantastic. It worked. Why was she trying to fix what wasn’t broken? She isn’t trying to fix shit, was what his mind snapped at him. Reminding him that that woman served her own means. No one else’s. Heartless bint. Yet, speaking of…

Speaking of he arrived to the respected place. Entering the lobby, he paid heed to the secretary there, offering a simple, curt nod, before taking yet another hallway. Finally he ended up in her personal ward… where her personal secretary was set and ready, and where the door to her office was quite shut. Shooting a glance over there he frowned cruelly, before his eyes rounded to the man who sat behind the desk. “Artan,” he said, noting the lad before coming over, almost reluctantly. “The Witch isn’t around again today?” He asked somewhat coarsely. Obvious that he was most discontent about this.

Out of Clues: Bad post, but done. :/

[Amos Artan]

His day so far had been quite slow; most of it was spent writing up notes and reports from the werewolves in the commissioner’s employment. Names, times and the way the targets were disposed of; explosions mostly. The commissioner seems to like the deaths of her targets to be killed in big and grandiose ways. Amos could never understand how he got the job as her sectary. Perhaps it was his hate for vampires that made him appear trustworthy in her eyes, his hate for them ensuring that Amos would never want to, or dare to, give any allegiance to those bloodsuckers. For whatever reason Amos has become the sectary and assistance to the Pack Commissioner. The money is good though, so he can’t exactly complain about that. The only thing that makes him feels that little bit uncomfortable is been around werewolves so often. He has the commissioners promise that none would harm him, but not all werewolves are in the D.O.G.S pack, not all werewolves follow any set of rules.

Sitting in front of his computer typing quickly Amos looks up over the top of the monitor to look at Mark as he walks in and towards the door. Amos has seen this werewolf before, been around him when the Commissioner has had the trio of explosive experts all together to give them a target, usually from information Amos has collected. “She is out at the moment Mr. Daniels. If you have come to give a report I am able to take it for her. It is my job after all”. Amos switches from typing on the computer to a pen and pad. “Anything in particular you’d like to say about the hit? Were there any complications?”

It was fairly obvious that Amos didn’t really belong in this place, the stronghold of the werewolves. For one he looked rather weak, even female werewolves carried themselves with some kind of authority. Amos on the other hand walked with a slight limp and can often be seen with a small bottle of pills either on his person or on his desk, painkillers for his back. He never should have walked through Hyde Park. Even with the money he gets from the job Amos tends not to dress up as much as the other employees do. The best he usually does are black jeans, a white button up shirt and black jacket. Even if he does manage to pull off looking professional it’s all thrown out by the fact that he wears cheap knock-off Cons, most often either black or dark blue.

[markdaniels]

To be honest, he didn’t understand why the young whippersnapper was even around either. ‘Amos ‘Art’ Artan. Twenty and Two. Human. D.O.G.S Commissioner’s Secretary.’ Those were his stats. That raw information, along with a photo and a little idle background (where he was born, brothers, sisters, that bullshit) was what he and his were given. And yet, if anyone bothered to meet little Artie in person, he simple did not fit the bill. One would expect more of a confident fellow. Cold, perhaps, callous and calculated - just like his employer - but… he would also have the trait of showing no fear. After all, being in the wolves’ den, was it truly ever wise to show even one once of fear? Not that Artie had any worries while he was within the organization’s walls. Humans could never seem to understand the pack hierarchy of wolves. Aye, they read up on it and ‘adopted’ it to words so it might better be understood by their pretty little heads… but they never truly understood it. They viewed dominance as tyranny, submission as weakness. They never could understand. … Or comprehended that… in this order run by wolves, they (hell, anyone and everyone) were truly safest. ‘Throw me to the wolves, for there is order in the pack!’ Had they never heard that? Don’t tell him he was the only one who read books. That’d be a devastating blow to his reputation! But alas, it was true. In the pack there was structure, order, and inter-independence. There was no tyranny or persecution… all wolves found their rank, their place of belonging and upheld their duties and obligations there. They worked to better the whole, and teamwork’d their way through difficulties. A pack was powerful. It was family… and it was undoubtedly a better government than any human - or vampire - could have ever created. Not that it didn’t have any flaws, true, but the Alpha? Oh, the Alpha was a wondersome creation to the wolves. It was not the creature who held all the power, oh, no oh no! It was the creature who guided the path, who cared for every individual and tended to every need of this great, monstrous machine. He was the caretaker, the rally-cry. He united them. Had humans never heard of the pack who stayed with a fallen comrade, not to move forward until the beast was healed or dead? Loyalty. A pack had loyalty, love, and strength. And… for that fact, and those (romantic) principles upon which a pack was born, Mark always found himself musing. If only idea was reality… if only principles were more closely adhered to. Was D.O.G.S even a true pack anymore? He wondered.

Nothing changed his current mood, however, make no mistake. Even as he looked upon Artan and recalled, instantly, all there was to know of the lad… His focus did not change. His unhappiness did not lessen and, unknowingly or not, he remained in a most hostile stance. Intimidating he looked, raw, and displeased. A wolf with those traits, always was fearsome… and with those nasty blue eyes he didn’t change that concept at all. Daniels did not glare at Artan, but simply look intensely at him. “Bitch is always out when I come in.” He said agitatedly under his breath. His eyes flickering off to break his unintentional concentration. Looking at the door he wondered if really she was there… and had put little Artie out here to make sure she wasn’t disturbed as she jacked off. Truly, he wouldn’t have been surprised. Still, no sense being pissy when the one he wanted to be pissy with wasn’t around to enjoy it, yeah? Heaving a breath, taking a ‘Me’ moment he… calmed himself (even if his jaw clenched when he heard the word ‘complications’. That was one word for it.) and dutifully ignored the somewhat painful reminisces of his gunshot wound. Which, though it had only been the sum of one or two days, was right along the path of healing without a trace. “Well, Artie, I gotta say…” He began pulling up one of the waiting room chairs along the way to Amos’ desk, “You guys gave me a fuckfest to deal with. Crazy, huh?” Gesturing to the pen and pad the younger, more human man took out, Mark gave a dashing, comic smile, “Yeah bud, write that down.” And with that Daniels willingly divulged his expedition in great detail (if only for Amos’ sake. He wanted to see the lad’s reaction, for one, and also how he planned to take notes and what notes he’d take). Telling of the planning and the processing and the grand idea. And then the assignment of one J. R. S.O.B who tried to kill poor Mark… And then how they had to scrap all of the plans they had made for the mark and start totally from scratch, which, was, needless to say, why the hit happened three hours late from it’s designated time. AND THEN, how the Trio managed to run into a military band (he described this in detail, and seriously. He made a note to tell Art how he found it quite odd, this convoy. It was trained, a unit, yet unique. Perhaps a warning of what was to come. He knew for a fact that they didn’t need any Stormtroopers being bred and raised around here in London. Not that he didn’t have a feeling the Missus was creating her own assault teams. After all, his trio was here, weren‘t they? But there was a big all difference between military-grade shock troops… and covert, commercial assassination teams. None the less he made a note of it, and made sure Art made a note of it as well) and how he ended up taking the heat, and fire, from them while the other too rift raft escaped. All the while, he was shot from the traitor. Nonetheless, not only did he make it out alive, but he also managed to slaughter the team of five men (he believed in backup explosives, and managed to get far enough ahead to plant one). Though much of the men were in pieces, he didn’t doubt their forensics couldn’t make sense of it. Mark then rambled off about heading home, knocking a few kegs back and visiting a “local” doctor… and then how he went to a hooker bar and… from there one can imagine he tattled on and on about his night, and the women, who were in it.

[Amos Artan]

Amos just looks at Mark, noting his obvious foul mood. "I have no idea why, you're always in such a pleasent mood, I have no idea why she wouldn't want to have the pleasure of your company. But lucky me that I get have it instead". He also notes Mark looking at the closed door. "She really isn't in there, not that I'd let you take a look, I'm not allowed to let anyone but myself and her inside that room without her express permission". Mark getting that little bit closer to Amos makes him feel a little bit edgy, any werewolf getting close to makes him slightly on edge.

You guys gave me a fuckfest to deal with. Crazy, huh?”

"Hey, don't all narky blaming me. I just scope out the targets and find out the usual places they go to and when. I'm just doing what I'm told to just like you. And I don't think I'll write that one down just yet", he taps his head with the pen, "Keep it up here as a footnote to put on at the end". If you'd actually watch Amos write notes none of it would make sense. Because of his photographic memory he only has to write down the most basic of details and his mind will remember exactly what they are refering to. Most of what Mark recounted to him is sumed up as traitor worked with M.D, shot, redo plans, 3hr late hit, army convoy encountered, trained, backup bombs, all written in some form of messy cursive with no spaces.

Amos had stopped taking any notes as soon as Mark started talking about what he had done after getting away. "An interesting couple of days then Mark. Look, you know I just give the Lady the reports, I put in what she needs know. I'll put in the important stuff and make a note about checking her associates next time she wants to tack a new member into the trio". Amos puts the pen and pad away in a locked desk draw."Is that everything you needed to report, or is there anything else you'd like to enlighten me about". Cringing a little Amos reaches over his desk to a small white pill bottle beside the computer monitor and pops off the lid and shaks out a few small white pills and downs them without any drink. "Fucking leeches".

[markdaniels]

By the end of his story he had resumed his usually perky attitude. Recognizing the snippiness he received from Ammy, he couldn’t help but be mildly impressed, and pleased, by the reaction. Not that he wasn't mutely surprised that Amos Artan did not better defend his employer. Personally, Mark expected him to. And yet... Blah, who knew what this kid thought of the old battleaxe? Maybe something in this human sensed something wicked in her aswell, and didn't particularly adore it either. But, just the same Amos' clever interpretation of Daniels' actions (the looking to the door) and the comment he had on it (the fact she really wasn't there) did reassure Mark enough. Not that he believed Amos wouldn't lie to him, but simply for the fact it was just everything he thought was true. Rumor had it the Lady had been out for a while. On a business meet of some such, she had been out of London handling business for the last month and... for that reason, well, all work ran through her secretary. Even if, by title, Mark was called "Assistant-Commissioner" there was nothing about his role in this governmental machine that placed him anywhere near it. He worked beneath the Commissioner. He trained small bomb squads, while his team of three remained on the highest ring, handling all the good and juicy targets. He assisted her in no special way, besides being her wardog. ... Not that he minded that at all. He wasn't the sort who got into politics. More than what it took simply killing a president or senator, at least. Now and again he bounced around. He did recovery, information gathering, training of recruits, and even some ‘police’ work where he assisted in the inter-policing of the Organization known as D.O.G.S. What he did was nothing special. Many viewed him as one of the ‘top dogs’ in a sense… close to the Masters, and a loyal, useful ally to them. He was the Commissioner’s Pet… But rumor could talk about him how it liked. He could give a shit less. He had been among this mess for roughly three years, and he had no agenda to leave it. He was paid well, paid on time, and his work was… exactly what he wanted to be doing. And even despite all the shit he gave his Lady Commissioner, well, what could he say? He liked who he worked with. Her sauciness was intoxicating, and he had always been quite fond of bullheaded, violent women. Marky dear liked it rough.

“Ya kno Ammy, I’m not trying to be a smartass or anything or tell you and yours how to do your job but… You know things are getting bad, yeah?” Mark said offhandedly, serious now, though he was in a more placid, pliable mood. “Shit’s going to hit the fan soon… and we aren’t prepared at all. The Lady is doing right and fine trying to get things up and running… but there’s some big ass gaps. Things need to tighten up or we’re going to get ass-fucked when things really get going. Dunno bout you, but I don’t like getting butt-poked.” He thought about this for a moment, pausing to contemplate exactly what the place was lacking. It was lacking a lot. Thinking of what he was seeing on the frontlines during his assassinations, he was sort of… surprised. He saw assault teams, intelligence units, assassination squads, hardcore inter-police. He saw all that on the other side of the line, but when he crossed back to his hometeam… he might have saw some of the same thing, but at such a degrading quality. It was good the Lady wanted to set things up… but was she being too rushed? The fact a traitor had so easily come into the highest ring of bomb-tech assassinators… was frightening in a way. If Mark and his team had not caught the traitor among them, how far could the guy had gone? It was a scary thought. A scary thought indeed. “Talk to her about it. The Witch listens to you.” He concluded, having sat in the chair backwards (crossing his arms over the back and laying his chin on his arms) he let a frown trickle over his features… before shaking his head free and lifting up. Standing he stretched, before shaking his head. Did he had anything else he’d like to add? Not really. Just that the Bitch had fucked him over. And no the way he wanted her to. “But enlighten you? I’d love to. C’mon. You’re taking an early break.” To be honest the time of day was… truly evening. Most of the people around were… stragglers. Finishing their work day before exiting and going on home where they’d eat, sleep, and rise for the next morning. But, alas… Mark Ethan Daniels had decided to make an executive decision. And Ammy was going to be dragged into it. “Grab your coat.”

[Amos Artan]

Listening to Mark, Amos sits back in his chair. "Yes I know things are not all that well oiled around here, it kind of something you can't miss". He pauses for a moment, usure if he should be speaking ill about the very woman who employs him, gives him some sense of security. "Some of the people she has sent me out to get information on are not people she, as far as I know, intends to have you and your group take as hits. I don't feel right telling you who or why she's doing this, half the time she doesn't tell me why just that she needs to know where and when a certain person is, where they frequent, where they spend most of their time. I mean she could be collecting it all but I don't really know. I don't go riffling through her files".

"The fact that a spy was able to get into your ring so easily is a worrying thought. Perhaps she intended it to happen, she could have known the person was a traitor knew you'd find out and kill him, save her doing it herself, not have blood on her hands so to speak. Or she might had no idea at all. Maybe see needs to look into rounding up the werewolves in London and getting them in here. I mean most of the people here work in offices. The wolves out there know how the street works, they know what's happening. Maybe see needs to come out of her office and get onto the streets a little". Amos smiles to himself at Mark's suggestion to talk to the commisioner about it. "I'll put it in your report when I write it up".

He hadn't expected Mark to actually 'enlighten' him on anything but what could he do, refuse the werewolf's invitation to go out? hardly, he's be safer poking a beehive with a stick... a really short stick. "Break but I have stuff...". Amos sighs and shuts down his computer, checks that all the draws are locked (and that has the keys) then gets his coat (more of a zip up jacket really). "You know I have a feeling I'm going to regret getting dragged out by you", despite the pessimist outlook in his words there is a small smile and a hint of laugh.

[markdaniels]

So the human saw what he saw? Now that was refreshing. Many thought him silly, foolish, a child. Not that Mark could really contest that... though really it had always been in the name of good fun but... But nonetheless and all the more he didn’t mind being made fun of for his lack of professionalism. Well, expressed professionalism. He was plenty professional when he needed to be. But, anywho that was good. It was good that he wasn’t the only one seeing the oncoming war, as well as all the cracks in the foundation. And yet Ammy brought up a good point. Perhaps the Lady had purposely planted the traitor, to test to bomb squad. Now that wouldn’t be a surprise, the woman was truly a vile witch when she so desired… and if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say she almost disliked him. Amusing the thought he pondered the possibilities there. Was he reaching the end of his usefulness? Was her imparting too much wisdom for the coming tides of armed villains? He never taught his pupils everything. None of them would ever be his prodigy. He taught them enough to do their job, but taught them too little for them ever to step into the explosive realm where he and his team remained on their lofty, respected perch. He could do miracles with bombs. He was truly an expert. So many years, he perfected his art… and there was nothing in his cards but getting better at it as he aged. He was a killer in the true sense. He enjoyed the destruction, loved the power behind it. But, no one needed an expert, to be truly honest. A person just need someone who could fucking get it done. And he had trained that. Plenty of that. Regrettably. Well, Bitch, just know I’m lookin’ out for me, he thought to himself then. Looking out for himself. Yeah, ever since his ex-wife, that was his role in things. Securing himself. Period.

‘I’ll put it in your report’. Mark couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. His chuckle genuine and authentic, not forced or fake at all. Truth be known he hated reports, and for that reason he truly enjoyed this arrangement. He recounted the events, and someone else wrote all the bullshit down while leaving him without finger cramps. Nosir, he wasn’t gonna be the one with carpal tunnel when it was all said and done with. But, still. It amused him how Artan interjected that business-y taste into things. Truly, Mark doubted anything about their conversation just then would be documented, except the bare bone facts. Any other details about their grievances and such? Now that would be taped on the cameras the Witch had secretly hidden away in various points of this office. Mark knew that she had eyes and ears everywhere, and that she had surveillance on everyone… anyone. Did Ammy? Taking a moment to regard the lad, Mark didn’t doubt it.

Still, Daniels was thankful that the boy didn’t bother putting up much fight. Just a minor ‘But I…’ before he gave in and submitted to the will of his “superior” (made him laugh, thinking himself above Artan in rank. They were both Constables.). Nonetheless, Mark chuckled himself. “Can’t say I ever regretted getting laid,” He began, pausing for a moment with a thinking look on his face, before frowning, “Wait, there was that one time… Bitch gave me fleas for weeks. Nasty shit.” He said with a laugh, though whether he was serious or not was debatable. After all, he was a werewolf. Giving an approving nod he and Amon went on their walk. Leaving the business world behind, they took a cab and found their way into the heart of London. Finding a suitable place, Mark introduced Artan to the place of great delectables. Gesturing towards the strip club as he spoke, simply, “You work too hard,” Before entering the fine establishment and ordering the first (of many) rounds of drinks.

Out of Clues: The ending is horrid, bad detail and rushed. V.V Feel free to fill in the car ride, how the joint looks, and maybe fast forward to when they're tipsy? ;P

[Amos Artan]

Amos walks a bit behind Mark, perhaps out of habit of never walking in front of Sophie while following her around taking little notes or organising things for her. around anyone he sees as above him in status or strength Amos takes on a sort of submissive role, out of fear mostly the last thing he needs is a pissed off werewolf at his throat. He listens to Mark share his exploits and simply shakes his head a little. Half the time he can never tell if the things Mark says are true or not, with the kind of person he is thought it's probably best to assume that all his stories and tales are indeed true. "At least fleas aren't as bad as anything else you could have caught from her. I mean what's the worst they're going to cause, some itching".

Amos didn't know how Mark had gotten here but he had driven. The D.O.G.S compound is the only place Amos will park his car*; Perfectly restored. "I don't know how you got here but how about I drive you. Usually I wouldn't risk parking it anywhere other than here, just give me directions on where to go".

***

He should have known that Mark would bring him to a place like this, but what the hell it might be good for him to get out and actually have some kind of fun for once. "I work hard to get the best results for the commissioner". Amos hesitates for a moment before entering the strip club with Mark. "How about I get us a couple of drinks?". He's never been much of a drinker, not since the night he and his friends had been attackd by vampires. The club looked better than Amos had expected. The music wasn't all that loud and the lights weren't too bright, the whole place just looked clean with the odd seeding looking guy scattered here and there.

* i664.photobucket.com/albums/vv8/minkys/trans-1.jpg

[markdaniels]

He was… surprised yet not to see what Ammy here liked to ride. It had plenty of value and worth but… it was actually a pretty nice auto-mo-beal. Though one would think more of the lines of minivan for the skittish human, the surprise of there being a vintage car in Amos’ cards, well, that folks, changed things. Perhaps there was hope yet for Artan, as far as Daniels was concerned and that was quite reassuring. Though he had to admit he would have never drove such a nice car into the heart of London where all the baddies lounged and there were no private, guard-secured lots to park… He left it in Artan’s more than capable hands and minds to realize what he was doing. Surely? He pondered the idea but not for long. With a few wonderful directions later, the two had arrived and Mark couldn’t not say that he was itching to get going. It had been ages, it seemed, since he had any time. Any at all! Sophie had kept him so busy, training or going on missions, it was a mess really. His favorite hookers, how were they suppose to remember him, if he didn’t visit them nightly, daily, regularly? “Best results for the Commissioner?” Mark asked, raising a brow to the boy before snickering a little, “Unless she’s opening those legs for you and you’re hitting it… Fuck results.” He said, bluntly and almost seriously before he shook his head, “Though if you ARE doing our boss, yeah, you’re gonna have to work harder on that clam. She’s still tense and riding up my neck for little things. Need to rough her up s’more. Sex is a good tension reliever. Gotta be rough though. I'd handle her for you but... eh, I don't think she likes me.” He offered a charming, swagger-filled smile before offering a laugh. Could he see Amos knocking up their Boss? Ya know… if you turned your head just right, squinted your eyes a little… and entertained that Amos Artan was Sophie’s personal assistant… and that even Mark himself knew deep down she was a wild, horny party girl…

“Nah, sit down mate. Girl’ll be around for the order. No need for you to be the bitch between us. I‘m not your boss, kapesh?” He felt like he needed to make that clear then and there - there was nothing, absolutely nothing, professional about what they were doing. Yes, one could view it as ‘two co-workers throwing back a few beers’ but, no. He had a feeling that idea would only lead to Amos being a tightass, and, well, Mark wanted to see the lad in a different element. Relaxed, for once, would be an interesting sight to behold… And Daniels had a feeling that, as long as Artan saw him as ‘a werewolf assassin who worked for the Lady’ they’d never get anywhere than a few tea-toddler sips and polite conversation. … And this place wasn’t the place for either.

Sure enough, Mark was correct. A lovely lady came around soon enough. Scantily clad and obviously eye candy for any she served. Running his tongue over his teeth, he offered a brief little smile, a bow of his head, and the flickering of his eyes off her peaking outfit, to her face. “A'round of drinks, missy… and a little company, maybe? It’s Artie’s birthday here, we’d love to make it special.” And before Artan could make an objection to it being his birthday, it seemed, there came a triage of women. Sitting next to, or on laps, they laughed and giggled and bantered with the two, though Mark made a note to keep only one for himself… and nudge others in the direction of the smaller Artie. This would be interesting, and that was the only way to have it. After convincing the girls to drink with them, they were soon playing drinking games in their booth. What game were they playing now? How many rounds had gone by? Mark knew for a fact he had an unfair advantage. He was a werewolf. But, who had to know? Ah! Now he remembered, they were playing truth or dare, wann’it? “Ever thought of doin’ Sophie, Ammy?” Mark struck up, though admittedly he had been quiet for a time, allowing the three girls on Artan dear to get more acquainted and play the game amongst themselves, while Mark himself entertained the dark-haired beauty that enticed him so. Her head rested on his shoulder, her long, tanned legs were draped across his lap (legs which he rubbed. His coarse, scarred hands rubbing her smooth thighs gently, a more loving expression than a wanton sexual one). She leaned on him, while nuzzling his neck occasionally, or lifting up to say something in his ear. It looked odd, per se, to see. One would expect a whore to be more lively, yes? But the fact was, was that this dear Mark knew, and knew in more ways than just… sexual. For this reason he was more comfortable simply having her relax, just like this, than grope around his crotch sloppily and grind on him, hoping to get an extra few dollars in her tip. Still, Mark spoke up, and that was his truth-or-dare question. How would Ammy respond? The girls around him were already giggling.

Out of Clues: o.o We gonna have to just wing it. xD Though we can play the truth-or-dare game a few turns if you'd like. =P

[Amos Artan]

Amos seems to become visably uncomfortable about Mark entertaining the idea that he would be having relations with Sophia. “I do hard work because I take my job seriously, not that I’m you and yours don’t, but I know what she can be like, I’m usually the one that gets the full brunt of her moods when she hears that something’s fucked up. When I first started there were many mistakes in the reports I gave. That’s why I do a good job, I don’t care for been on her bad side with her yelling at me”. He smiles a little. “Maybe she’s playing old school ways, you know acting as if she hates you when she’s really got the hots for you... like a little kid”.

He doesn’t resist Mark telling the waitress that it’s his birthday, better to just go along with it. One of the girls takes a seat on Amos’s lap putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder and putting little kisses on his neck. Caught up in the mood of drinking and having fun with the girls Amos has had a good few beers, getting just a little bit tipsy. Amos looks at Mark with a look of disbelief, but it soon melts away into a grin. “Well, she is rather good looking, gotta admit that those green eyes are nice to look at. But she is the boss and I’ve got this little inkling that mixing business with pleasure isn’t he best combination considering the type of person that you and I work for. Vicious bitch she can be, gets narky over the tiniest little thing she does”.

The girl sitting on his lap and the one beside him giggle a little, the girl on his lap kissing his neck, the one beside him kissing him squarely on the lips. ”Maybe we’re more the type of girls you like to hang around with huh? Would you like to spend your time with us?”. Taking a few more tastes from his drink Amos leans back an arm around the ‘lap girl’s waist, trailing his fingers up and down her skin. Amos grins at the girl on his lap. “Maybe dear lady, maybe I will”. “So now I get to ask you a little question or give you a dare Mark. Which would you prefere?”.

[markdaniels]

He smiled a little, showing his teeth as he ran his tongue over them. Taking a sip of the beer he had been given, tasting the bite and sweetness before trading the beer to another hand and returning his other to the woman’s tanned, soft thigh. Such a pretty little thing she was. She had no business working here. But, so could be said for plenty of the girls who occupied this… occupation. Beautiful, intelligent, sweet, sweet souls. But each and every one of them - mark him - each and every one had a flaw. Something broken in their souls that made them crave the attention, be it negative or no, that their bodies (when put on display like fine meat at a market) acquired. It was sad in a way how so many girls lost their path. Toppled of the narrow wire that secured them safety, freedom, independence. They felt like they were never enough, or were stuck at a certain point where… they could simply go no further. Stuck. Kissing the top of Reina’s head he pursed his lips there, his kiss gentle but firm. He could feel her dozing in his arms and truth be known he couldn’t help but enjoy that. The feeling of a woman in his strong, sinewy embrace, one who felt safe and sound and content simply to lounge around him. He loved women, there was no doubt to it. He was a weak man for them… and there was nothing about them he could not derive pleasure from. Women incarnated the best of many aspects of Man… but to him they incarnated the most wicked as well. So beautiful, but so deadly… yet that was the way it ought be, perhaps. Women the Forbidden Fruit. Woman, the downfall of Man. The thoughts seemed to strike him a certain way this evening, however. How the reverberated and shook him, weakened his normally hardy foundation. Drinking always had an effect on him. Drink too little, and he was so sober. Drink too much, and he always got in trouble. Holding the small, slender woman in his arms he pulled her a little closer, him embrace more complete around her. Not that she minded, her head on his shoulder, dozing, taking a break from the long work day given that, just this once, she could. “Whichever you want, Capt’n. Shoot me up with anything.” Dares or truths, it didn’t matter. He was stupid enough to do any dare, and careless enough to tell any honest answer. Not that he still didn’t think on Ammy’s ideals towards their Boss. So serious was the man, so professional… so factual. He couldn’t deny that there wasn’t some envy in him about that. Could Mark every view something and be so objective?

Out of Clues: Short, but the conversation is intriguing me ;O

[Amos Artan]

Honestly it has been a while since Amos has been this close to a woman. Since the attack in Hyde Park, and having to watch his best friends be constantly bitten and beaten by vampires, his trust in pretty much anyone has been brought down to about zero. The only reason he trusts Mark or anyone in D.O.G.S is exactly that, they are werewolves. If they had been attacked by werewolves then he would be working for vampires. The fact that any of these girls could be vampire isn’t running through his slightly drunk mind at this very moment, his thoughts are more concerned with the girl on his lap and what truth or dare he can think up for Mark. There’s nothing Mark could do and feel embarrassed but what the hell, it’ll be fun to see how far the guy will go. “Alrighty Mark, I’ve got a little dare for you. How about you go up to one of those poles and give us a little dance eh? I mean the girls are always so kind to put on shows for us don’t you think it’s only fair that someone return the favour. While you do I’ll be out on the floor having a little dance”.

Happy with the dare he had given Mark, Amos whispers something into the ear of the girl on his lap, who giggles and slides off his legs takes his hand and leads him towards the floor, even if the place isn’t meant to have people dancing in the sense that Amos and the girl are going to he is too drunk to care. It isn’t so much a dance of any sorts, it’s more the two simply been close to eachother with his arms around her waist and the girls arms draped over Amos’s shoulders. Not paying all that much attention Amos doesn’t pick up on the actions that would usually give away that someone may be a vampire; the little kisses on his neck, nipping at the skin. Caught up in the bliss of her kisses and soft words it isn’t until the girls teeth are pressed against his skin that Amos suddenly snaps back to reality and his mind clears just that little bit enough to allow him to think strait.

Despite his intoxication Amos is able to push the girl away. He isn’t strong but in no way is Amos weak either, the months that he couldn’t leave the house he spent exercising in a make-shift gym. The girl had only just managed to pierce his skin with her teeth. “Fucking leech!”. Amos cringes as the world around him starts to spin a little. “Mark I don’t care what you’re doing right now but we’ve got to go, I’m not spending my time with any of these... fangers. I don’t care if you’re coming or not but I’m leaving”.

[markdaniels]

It was true. Mark was just about shameless. Sophia tended to make sure of that, especially if, no hold’s barred, in many senses Daniels wasn’t her assistant, but her bitch. Yet, nonetheless and all the more the werewolf laughed allowed at the dare. Dance? On a pole? Pole dance? He imagined himself doing acrobatics on a pole and couldn’t deny he wasn’t entirely amused. He didn’t dance often, it wasn’t his style. Whenever he managed to get out there, it was always at the begging and pleading of a companion. Not that he couldn’t, he had some sense of motion to him, but the fact was… he didn’t want too. Chuckling a little more he took the beer and tipped it back. Downing the last bits as he eyed Amos over the bottle. Something about how Ammy was being reacquainted with the opposite sex, as well as liquor, told Mark that… the dare was more of a suggestion than an actual ‘dare’. If Ammy wasn’t going to hold him to it, then he had very little incentive to rise and start busting his most favorite stripper moves. Daniels watched Artan and his little companion hit the floor. Not really dancing, from where the wolf was sitting, but simply swaying and moving hips to a slow, unknown beat. Not that he could mock the lad at all, nosir, not at all. ‘Been there, done that’, was Mark’s only sentiment while being somewhat amused. It seemed for once he had had a good idea about dragging Amos away from work to… participate in more worldly pleasures, yeah? Seemed like the lad was lightening up already. Taking a load off, enjoying himself.

… And then everything fell apart. It seemed like the romantics of the evening took a turn for the worse, with Amos there shoving his girl away. At first Mark didn’t even realize this, he was too involved with the woman at his side, who stirred from her beauty rest finally. Mumbling and talking in slow tones they were, involved in each other’s company… before the hysterics of Artan reached Mark’s sensitive ears. Frowning somewhat, he couldn’t say that he was so overjoyed about this. One, he didn’t figure the hostess of the club would be so bold as to send vampires into the company of a werewolf and human… And, well, two, he had hoped to spend his evening here quite honestly. All of it. Yet, he couldn’t simply leave Ammy off to his own devices. As much as he was sure the guy could take care of himself, there was a shred of responsibility in Mark that… required that he, well, came along. Sliding the woman’s legs off his lap he stepped past her, his lack of happiness apparent now. He wasn’t so much churned by the rounds they drank, he was lucrative, but far from wasted and sighed heavily before gesturing towards the side door. “No need for all the fuss, Ammykins. C’mlong.”

Exiting out of the building was like a hit of cold air, and in many ways it was. Into the alley they were, where it was chilly and frosty… and all around making him quite wanton to go back inside where the hazy warmth was well adored by all parts of himself. But, in taking one glance over to Amos, he had a feeling going back was far from an option. The loathing for vampires ran too deep… even if Artan had already been tempted so… even if, Mark knew as all men did, that Artan had already thought of doing unmentionables with her. Even if all of that and more. They wouldn’t be going back to that club in a long, long while. Pity, really. Putting his coat back on, Mark shoved his hands deep into his pockets while starting their walk down the alley. Time to find the car, yeah? It was when they were close to the vehicle (perhaps five minutes after leaving the long, lonely stretch of alley) when the… erm… well… what could one call it? When they feeling of ‘dread’ came? Mark had a feeling something was up. Call it an inner sense, and in that instant that he felt something was amiss, he took a glance over his shoulder and simply… frowned. What he saw did not amuse him, nor please him, nor excite him. And he knew for a fact Ammy would not be enthralled. At all. “Artan,” He used Amos’ last name, his tone one of command and authority now. Stern, firm, and unflexing, “Now, you’re going to need to listen to me. Shit’s going to happen and it isn’t going to be pleasant, but I need your help or we’re both going to get fucked up. And I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to be the one who’ll die if someone does.” Vampires left werewolves the fuck alone more often than not. It was a fight that wasn’t worth it. Vamps couldn’t eat werewolves. And… werewolves could put up a fight. Humans, however, were a different story. They were prey. Simple as that. It wasn't as if Mark would leave Amos to die, but the fact was, was one of them could take a beating while the other couldn't. Chances are, that if they were ganged up on, Mark would have his hands full. He couldn't gaurantee his own safety. Let alone his companion's. Nonetheless his tone was deadly serious and had a lilt to it that sent shivers down the spine. “Gotta trust me, okay? And you’re gonna have to run. Don’t get cornered. Use the buildings and the allies. Run as far and as fast as you can. I’ll find you. If they catch you, shoot the shit. I need ten minutes. Ten minutes, and I swear I’ll hold them while you kick their fucking face in.” Was he making sense? Perhaps not, but from his tone he didn’t doubt that Artan had a feeling something was up and took a look around. He’d notice the gang or three or four strolling out of the alley towards their direction. In that instant, chances are Artan would then look to his car. He’d notice the tires had been slashed. There was no escape. Not without a fight.

When the gang of vampires came up on them, Mark was already sitting on the vintage car, his hands crossed, a frown on his mug. They didn’t make a word, but their presence and body language told a different story. From there one of the bolder vampires spoke, and the werewolf spoke back. Banter erupted, smart tongues wagging. Ultimately it came to but a few words:

‘Perhaps we can work something out.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘I think he’s more of what you’d like.’
‘He is.’
‘He’s yours.’

Out of Clues: Take it up until... Ammy's been running for a while? Or to where he's caught? Up to you. =O Next post'll be Marky to the rescue. xD

[Amos Artan]

“No need for all the fuss, Ammykins. C’mlong.”

Amos stares at the female vampire, a little bit of blood dribbling from the small bite she’d managed to make before been pushed away. “I fucking swear if I get turned I’ll hunt you down and tie you to a tree where you can burn as the sun rises and I wont do a bloody thing to help you. You and all you’re kind can burn in the fucking sun for all I care”. His threats were mostly empty, what damage could one human do to a vampire? Unless Amos has some actual idea was what he was doing any vampires could overcome him. Mark’s voice sounds far off at first, but as his words echo in his mind they become more and more clear. He looks at Mark, surprised at himself for the sudden outburst of anger. “Yeah, I think we better be heading off”. Patrons of the strip club are now getting a good look at the two, for sure after this Amos will not be making any efforts to be going out. God damn vampires everywhere. Sure there are werewolves that can be rough and have no sense of rules when it came to dealing with others, but vampires... all of them just don’t appear to give a damn about anyone but themselves, using humans as play things to amuse themselves with. All he wants to do now is get to the car, get home and curl up in a ball in bed, maybe bury himself in his work for a few weeks, a few weeks even. Anything to keep him in the D.O.G.S office or at home where he can be safe.

Looking at the car the first thing Amos notices is it seems to be a bit of tilt. The tires a flat, slashed so that it can’t be used to get away. Containing his anger, barely, Amos listens to Mark. Running! Oh you’ve got to be kidding. The last thing he needs, with a screwed back and dodgy knees, is running. Plus his habit of getting breathing problems when nervous is starting to come into effect. “Alright, run it is then. Hey man, if we get out of this... well if I get out of this alive, I swear to God I’ll put the nicest word in for you to Sophie, I’ll make you sound like a fuckin’ saint”. Looking back at the gang of vampires Amos sighs to himself. “It’s Hyde all over again. I’ll see you later Mark”, he pauses and with laugh adds, ‘try not to take too long”.

***

Once Amos could have ran for a good hour solid without stopping, now he's lucky if he can keep going for ten minutes before his knees start acting up, which right now they are. The pain burning in his knees and lungs Amos keeps going, unwilling to let the vampires behind him catch up, though he didn't even if they were chasing him he hadn't dared look back to check. Fifteen minutes of running, so far so good, sure it hurt like fuck but at least he's still on his feet. Oh! spoke too soon. With a little yelp Amos suddenly falls to the ground, landing on his hands and skidding across the ground on his arms, the scratches limited by the sleeves of his jacket. His hands however are covered in little cuts. Breathing heavily Amos lays on the ground for a few minutes until he feels a strong hand grab him by the shoulder and flip him over onto his back. At first he could only think that it is Mark, but then he sees the fangs.

You want a fight? I'll give you one then

As one of the two vampires comes near Amos lashes out and clocks him in the jaw, the blow stunning the vampires for a second or so. Amos hitting the vampires was about as effective as him hitting a brick wall. "Oh come on!".

[markdaniels]

To be utterly honest Mark was surprised how sickening it was to watch vampires run after his companion. The sinking feeling in his stomach dived deep and made vile work of his organs. Putrid, it felt, to see them run as if they were chasing prey. Wretched, it felt, to know in their eyes that, that was exactly what it was. The chase of prey. But watch Mark did as they flew after the human male. His eyes boring into their back until they turned the corner and in and instant were gone. In the same exact moment was when his shift began. When bones, at his will, cracked and splintered. The sounds were horrid, unnerving, enough to make anyone close enough to hear wince. The sound of flesh tearing, of nerves sparking, of muscles being shred to pieces as the bestial, feral side of his nature struck the match and lit itself was all the rage. Emotion bubbled and seemed to take on a new, drastic edge as his body altered and spliced. What he was, was older than any recorded time. A beast, a monster, a dark, vehement enemy. From the depths of his soul his alteration of form came, ravaging both his physical being and mental stability. Ten minutes passed by without anything shattering the transformation. The pain that rippled through him was immense, yet progressed without feeling. In the depths of inability and subconscious he lounged, the demonic wolf within him snaking it’s way from the bowels of his being to the surface. There was a large difference between a wolf in it’s natural skin and it’s ‘adopted’ one. As a human there came a civility, a sheathing to the blade. But as a wolf, as the large titan he was? What was there to shield him, to contain him, to curb his insatiable, wild desires? Emotions, feelings, all of them took on a drastic upheaval, even if he, within his core, remained the same individual. But his perception changed, and with it his actions. He was bothered by what he witnessed, and in his more natural skin his ‘bothered-ness’ took a more vile turn. He, quite simply, wanted them to die. And… there was nothing that could change that, nor nothing that would prohibit it.

Before the last of his bones had settled he was moving forward. His stride long and muscled, fierce and yet tamed. He lunged forward with such locomotion that it was frightening. A creature so large, yet so agile! With senses so alive, so pristine! He moved with a quickness that made other immortals and mortals both seem slow and clumsy, his form complete and totally acclimated. He was a creature born from the wild, he was a wolf… and incarnated, perhaps, two opposites and two different extremes. Mortal Man, and the Wolf of the Wild… enemies, yet in him, part of the same whole. The battle between them was ever-present., but ever-settled. Mark was the master of himself, neither his humanity as man, nor his bestiality as wolf, ruled.

Knowing full well that time was of the essence, Daniels ultimately took to the rooftops. Flying overhead, he moved along at an astounding pace, his nose guiding him and his ears kept up surveillance. As he neared the scent he sought he did not slow or halt, but kept his fervor and energetic level. Spotting the enemy of his friend below Mark fell from the rooftop with purpose. Plunging downward, his descent was heavy yet projected. Falling onto one of the vampires, his forelimbs crashed into the others shoulders and his teeth, his long mug filled with teeth well-suited, sunk into his neck before he had any hopes of using brute strength to overcome the wolf that descended upon him. In another instant the beast let loose of one and lunged towards another. Again, his sheer velocity (and surprise) knocking another vampire to the ground as he took the neck within his jowls and shook as if what he had was a plaything, one whose neck was coming undone and whose head would soon lolly off. The attack was brutal, savage, violent, bloody and quick. Mark went from one opposing force, to another, to yet one more before the vampires caught their wit and by then it was much to late. One was dead, another was gagging for air, and the third was beneath the heavy, clawed paws of Mark. The last had undoubtedly been the closest one to Amos, and the one that Mark kept underfoot. His lips, his mouth, soiled with vampire blood as his fur remained bristled (making him appear quite enormous, even more so than what he actually was), his snout remained wrinkled in a snarl, and his throat remained crackling with the sound of an unearthly, demonic snarling growl. Unhappy was he with his narrowed pupils and savage appearing demeanor. A beast in it’s truest form, he looked into the eyes of the one beneath him and simply breathed. The smell of his mouth enough to up-heave any. It smelled of blood, putrid-ness, and… the earth. And yet he stayed there for what seemed like eternity, breathing into the vampire’s face, salvia and blood dripping from his barred mouth. Mark was careful not to swallow any blood, and fought the desire he had to. Poison it was. Toxic, unpleasant poison. Yet, it seemed like Mark was waiting, did it not? Paused in his assault. Then again, he did say he’d let Amos spill the final blood. Did he not?

Out of Clues: Shitty, but it's a post. =[