Post by Zack ''ZZ'' Tompson on May 11, 2016 7:16:23 GMT
As the young blonde haired man sat in his apartment, he clutched his head softly with one hand. The connecting arm rested on the table by his elbow, while his free hand shakily brought a lit cigarette to his lips where soon after he'd exhale, freeing a large plume of smoke into his living room. Reaching over to flick the growing tower of ash hanging from the end, the ashes scattered against the upended filters of several others in an over-full tray. He'd tried his best, he knew that. But there was this sinking feeling of guilt and responsibility that he just couldn't shake away. Knocking back a short and fat eight ounce glass of whiskey, he'd clear his throat and place it back on his table as he sat in the dark, letting the cherry of his cigarette serve as his only light as he tried to make sense of the events of the night. Was he a murderer, now? No. That freak turned to ash. No blood, no body, nothing. Ash. Would there even be any evidence left? The screaming of a police siren ripped down the street, causing him to bolt from his chair and to his street-view window. He heaved a sigh of relief as he took another drag, watching the squad car pass before turning and pacing back and forth, finishing off the last of his burning cigarette before the dark greeted him once again. Walking to his bathroom, he would splash a cupped handful of chilling water across his face as his heart thundered within his chest and his head began to ache. He returned to his seat and turned on the news channel on his junker television. With a sigh, he let his thoughts wander over the day's events, nervously sweeping his hair back and out of his vision.
Earlier That Day...
Finishing getting dressed after having stepped out of the shower to dry off, Zack had just enough time to sit down and get nice and comfy on the couch before his phone began to ring. Standing up and walking over to the corded device planted onto the wall, he sifted through the pockets of his jeans to withdraw a cigarette and his lighter. ''Ello?'' He spoke through his gritted teeth softly holding the cigarette. Usually nobody bothered him unless there was news of something going down from one of his crew, and it certainly wasn't late enough yet to have some friends over for a drink. A slightly older crew member of his was a good sport about supplying him liquor when he wanted it. ''ZZ! What's happenin', man?'' ''Nothin'. Just got outta the shower, i'm kinda just sittin' around.'' ''If you got nothin' to do, me and the boys were gonna hit that bar you're so fond of. Shoot a few rounds of pool, play some darts, you know. Blow off a little steam. Wanna go?'' ''Sure, got nothin' better to do with my cash. I'll be there in an hour. May as well eat something 'fore I go.'' ''Sure thing, Ed. See ya there.'' The place was only a short walk away from his apartment, and he had a bit of spending money to blow through; over the past couple weeks the crew had been in contact with a chop shop, and the guy was all too eager to pay good money for a stolen motorcycle or two.
Walking over to the fridge and fishing his way through several two-liter bottles of various kinda of soda, he'd scoot them aside and withdraw a box of leftover pizza. Flipping open the lid as he sat it on the counter, he'd chuckle to himself as he looked at the graph-like drawing made on the inside of the lid. The guys had taken to calling that game battleshots, and always made boards out of the pizza boxes they'd order on party nights. Taking two pieces out and paper plating them before stuffing them in his microwave, he'd trade the box for a two liter of some knock-off brand cola and take a refreshing, if a little flat, drink from the container itself before opting to keep it near him and shutting the fridge. He enjoyed his reheated pizza, washing it down with the rest of the two-liter before cleaning it up and starting on his walk with a cigarette in tow (half of his earlier one he'd elected to save). Once he arrived, he nodded to the bouncer. '''Sup Zack!? Come on in. The guys are waitin' on you.'' As he stepped past, another man approached. The bouncer halted him with a hand. ''Five dollar cover. Them's the rules.'' ''You didn't charge pretty-boy up there.'' ''Yeah? He's him, you're you. And I don't like you. Five bucks or scram.''
Smirking as he approached the claimed set of pool tables, he was passed a drink by Terry, who immediately clinked his glass. ''Hey, brother! Glad you could make it out. I know you're not much for pool but you should at least watch. There's some pretty close games tonight.'' Taking a small swig with his pseudo-brother, Zack smiled and took a seat as he gazed around the bar. There were mostly familiar faces present, other than one dweeb trying to look classy by sipping wine at the bar. It was surprising the guy hadn't gotten his ass kicked yet, frankly. The man turned over his shoulder and offered Zack a glare, which he returned in earnest. Throughout the night as much as he tried to focus on having a good time, he couldn't shake the feeling that this stranger was watching him. Watching all of them, really. He was a regular here and he'd never before seen this creep. As he got up to set the score straight with him, he felt Terry's hand on his shoulder. ''Forget it, man. Wait til we leave. If he's got somethin' to say, let him say it then.'' ''Guess you're right. He's pissing me off, though. I'm thinkin' of waiting around for him in the parking lot either way.'' ''Couldn't tell you he doesn't deserve it. Closing time's creeping up anyway. I think after this game the guys are headed out.'' ''Good.''
''Twelve, corner.'' From behind the filter of his own lit cigarette, one of the gang took his shot and sank it perfectly. ''Bet you can't do it again!'' ''Fifteen, center-right.'' After a worrying slow of velocity, the ball barely sat at the edge. ''Ha! You're getting better but you're still not gonna beat me. Eight-ball, corner pocket. That's it.'' With the last called shot, the game ended, and it all boiled down to everyone finishing what was left of their drinks before heading out. Simon, the winner of the last game, approached Zack and Terry. ''Hey guys. I'm probably gonna hang out for a little longer, but i'm gonna grab my jacket. I'll be right back.'' ''Sure thing. We'll be around, but not for long.'' Getting wrapped up in conversations with his friends and crew, it didn't dawn on the young man until Terry finally chimed in some time later; ''Hey, Zack. Simon's been out there a while. You wanna go check on him?'' ''No reason to baby him. What's it been, five minutes?'' ''Twenty.'' Zack's eyes widened and shot over to the bar where the creep sat earlier. Half a glass of wine sat unattended; he left in a rush, alright. Leaving the rest of his own drink behind, he made a sprint for the door and knocked over a patron on their way out. Looking around the lot, he spotted Simon's motorcycle, but not Simon himself.
''Simon? Buddy, where you at? You get sick in the alley or something?''
No response.
Terry stepped outside. ''You haven't seen him?'' ''Not a damn trace. I'm checking the alley. Stay put and give me a yell if you see him, yeah?'' ''Right. The creep's gone too, i'm sure you noticed.'' Cracking his knuckles, Zack turned down the alley until he reached an intersection with another one. Seeing a silhouette perched against the wall, he broke into a run and hurriedly crouched over Simon, eyes glossed over and his body cold. He didn't even have a pulse. ''Oh shit. Shit! Terry, get over here now! Simon's-!'' A hand struck out from the dark, a sharp nail slashing a small cut open on Zack's cheek. The creep from before had seemingly appeared from nowhere. His red eyes burned through the young man like beads of flame, and Terry made his entrance. Swinging with a hard right, the stranger ducked and lunged forward with uncanny speed. Shifting himself in the way, Zack struck out with his signature kick, burying it right into the assailant's torso. Screaming in pain and backing off while clutching a smoking wound, he quickly looked for an escape route. ''H-Hamon!? From some punk like you!? You've got to be kidding me!'' ''I dunno what the hell a Hamon is, but you're not getting away from me!'' Falling for a feint from the man, he was promptly juked, and Zack witnessed the freak running toward a car on the street, likely to hijack it.
''Zack! Simon's bike! He always kept a gun in one of his bags and his keys were still on him!'' ''Right! Let's get this son of a bitch!'' Not at all considering how bad it would look to leave Simon's body behind and take his bike, his impulse once again threw caution to the wind. Rushing over to the vehicle, Terry hopped on the back while Zack inserted the key, revving the engine as it roared to life. Narrowing his eyes through the alley, he gunned the throttle and tore through the narrow alley before blasting out street-side, skidding on his back tire into a tight turn as the car's wheels spun up and it took off.
Walking over to the fridge and fishing his way through several two-liter bottles of various kinda of soda, he'd scoot them aside and withdraw a box of leftover pizza. Flipping open the lid as he sat it on the counter, he'd chuckle to himself as he looked at the graph-like drawing made on the inside of the lid. The guys had taken to calling that game battleshots, and always made boards out of the pizza boxes they'd order on party nights. Taking two pieces out and paper plating them before stuffing them in his microwave, he'd trade the box for a two liter of some knock-off brand cola and take a refreshing, if a little flat, drink from the container itself before opting to keep it near him and shutting the fridge. He enjoyed his reheated pizza, washing it down with the rest of the two-liter before cleaning it up and starting on his walk with a cigarette in tow (half of his earlier one he'd elected to save). Once he arrived, he nodded to the bouncer. '''Sup Zack!? Come on in. The guys are waitin' on you.'' As he stepped past, another man approached. The bouncer halted him with a hand. ''Five dollar cover. Them's the rules.'' ''You didn't charge pretty-boy up there.'' ''Yeah? He's him, you're you. And I don't like you. Five bucks or scram.''
Smirking as he approached the claimed set of pool tables, he was passed a drink by Terry, who immediately clinked his glass. ''Hey, brother! Glad you could make it out. I know you're not much for pool but you should at least watch. There's some pretty close games tonight.'' Taking a small swig with his pseudo-brother, Zack smiled and took a seat as he gazed around the bar. There were mostly familiar faces present, other than one dweeb trying to look classy by sipping wine at the bar. It was surprising the guy hadn't gotten his ass kicked yet, frankly. The man turned over his shoulder and offered Zack a glare, which he returned in earnest. Throughout the night as much as he tried to focus on having a good time, he couldn't shake the feeling that this stranger was watching him. Watching all of them, really. He was a regular here and he'd never before seen this creep. As he got up to set the score straight with him, he felt Terry's hand on his shoulder. ''Forget it, man. Wait til we leave. If he's got somethin' to say, let him say it then.'' ''Guess you're right. He's pissing me off, though. I'm thinkin' of waiting around for him in the parking lot either way.'' ''Couldn't tell you he doesn't deserve it. Closing time's creeping up anyway. I think after this game the guys are headed out.'' ''Good.''
''Twelve, corner.'' From behind the filter of his own lit cigarette, one of the gang took his shot and sank it perfectly. ''Bet you can't do it again!'' ''Fifteen, center-right.'' After a worrying slow of velocity, the ball barely sat at the edge. ''Ha! You're getting better but you're still not gonna beat me. Eight-ball, corner pocket. That's it.'' With the last called shot, the game ended, and it all boiled down to everyone finishing what was left of their drinks before heading out. Simon, the winner of the last game, approached Zack and Terry. ''Hey guys. I'm probably gonna hang out for a little longer, but i'm gonna grab my jacket. I'll be right back.'' ''Sure thing. We'll be around, but not for long.'' Getting wrapped up in conversations with his friends and crew, it didn't dawn on the young man until Terry finally chimed in some time later; ''Hey, Zack. Simon's been out there a while. You wanna go check on him?'' ''No reason to baby him. What's it been, five minutes?'' ''Twenty.'' Zack's eyes widened and shot over to the bar where the creep sat earlier. Half a glass of wine sat unattended; he left in a rush, alright. Leaving the rest of his own drink behind, he made a sprint for the door and knocked over a patron on their way out. Looking around the lot, he spotted Simon's motorcycle, but not Simon himself.
''Simon? Buddy, where you at? You get sick in the alley or something?''
No response.
Terry stepped outside. ''You haven't seen him?'' ''Not a damn trace. I'm checking the alley. Stay put and give me a yell if you see him, yeah?'' ''Right. The creep's gone too, i'm sure you noticed.'' Cracking his knuckles, Zack turned down the alley until he reached an intersection with another one. Seeing a silhouette perched against the wall, he broke into a run and hurriedly crouched over Simon, eyes glossed over and his body cold. He didn't even have a pulse. ''Oh shit. Shit! Terry, get over here now! Simon's-!'' A hand struck out from the dark, a sharp nail slashing a small cut open on Zack's cheek. The creep from before had seemingly appeared from nowhere. His red eyes burned through the young man like beads of flame, and Terry made his entrance. Swinging with a hard right, the stranger ducked and lunged forward with uncanny speed. Shifting himself in the way, Zack struck out with his signature kick, burying it right into the assailant's torso. Screaming in pain and backing off while clutching a smoking wound, he quickly looked for an escape route. ''H-Hamon!? From some punk like you!? You've got to be kidding me!'' ''I dunno what the hell a Hamon is, but you're not getting away from me!'' Falling for a feint from the man, he was promptly juked, and Zack witnessed the freak running toward a car on the street, likely to hijack it.
''Zack! Simon's bike! He always kept a gun in one of his bags and his keys were still on him!'' ''Right! Let's get this son of a bitch!'' Not at all considering how bad it would look to leave Simon's body behind and take his bike, his impulse once again threw caution to the wind. Rushing over to the vehicle, Terry hopped on the back while Zack inserted the key, revving the engine as it roared to life. Narrowing his eyes through the alley, he gunned the throttle and tore through the narrow alley before blasting out street-side, skidding on his back tire into a tight turn as the car's wheels spun up and it took off.
''You best hold on, Terry!'' (Music)
Immediately giving pursuit as the car weaved between lanes, Zack gave hell to the engine as he continually maxed out the throttle, threading the needle through various clusters of traffic. Terry fished out the semi-automatic handgun and checked its ammo, racking the slide back as he held onto Zack with one hand. ''Get me close, man! I'm not gonna wing someone else's car!'' ''Gimme a minute, damn!'' The car took a heavy turn and almost went out of control, prompting Zack to blast between two minivans and take the corner as sharp as he possibly could. ''Lean heavy or we're gonna eat it!'' ''I know, I know!'' Tires squealing through the entire length of the turn, as soon as he hit the straightaway he pinned the throttle and roared up near the car. Terry lined up a shot one handed and blew out the driver side window, the second shot embedding itself into the windshield before the freak driver attempted to ram the bike with a side swipe. Hitting the brake to evade, Zack blasted around to the passenger side. Terry let loose another flurry of shots within his friend's erratic driving, taking out a tail light, the rear windshield, and hitting the stereo. ''Screw this! Aim for the tires, i'm gonna get in close again!'' ''Are you crazy!? The cops are gonna be here any minute and he's trying to pancake us against the road!'' ''I'm not letting him get away with murdering Simon! Now get ready!''
Cutting off another panicked driver (who swerved and hit someone else), Zack kept his promise as he crept up on the car. Getting as close as possible, he watched as the man in the driver seat turned away to get ready to ram. ''Blow his tire out! He's about to crank the wheel!'' Another two shots and the tire blew out, causing the freak to spin out wildly and slam into a concrete barrier near a warehouse. Soaring through the windshield and landing in a heap of shattered glass, Zack pulled up alongside him and hopped off the bike, swiping the gun from Terry and aiming down at him. ''Urrgh...go ahead! Shoot me! Not much good it'll do you, brat!'' ''Let's test that then!'' Firing a shot right through the side of his head, the murderer twitched and then proceeded to lay still. Realizing what he'd just done, he spiked the gun against the ground in anger and let out a frustrated roar. ''Jesus, Zack! You just killed that guy! You should'a let the cops take him in!'' ''I know, I KNOW! Just let me think, damn it!'' Zack stormed off as Terry checked him for a pulse.
Cutting off another panicked driver (who swerved and hit someone else), Zack kept his promise as he crept up on the car. Getting as close as possible, he watched as the man in the driver seat turned away to get ready to ram. ''Blow his tire out! He's about to crank the wheel!'' Another two shots and the tire blew out, causing the freak to spin out wildly and slam into a concrete barrier near a warehouse. Soaring through the windshield and landing in a heap of shattered glass, Zack pulled up alongside him and hopped off the bike, swiping the gun from Terry and aiming down at him. ''Urrgh...go ahead! Shoot me! Not much good it'll do you, brat!'' ''Let's test that then!'' Firing a shot right through the side of his head, the murderer twitched and then proceeded to lay still. Realizing what he'd just done, he spiked the gun against the ground in anger and let out a frustrated roar. ''Jesus, Zack! You just killed that guy! You should'a let the cops take him in!'' ''I know, I KNOW! Just let me think, damn it!'' Zack stormed off as Terry checked him for a pulse.
Then, it happened.
The vampire thrust his hand inside of Terry's neck, grasping his jugular as he began to soak up his blood like a sponge. ''E-Ed...'' He could barely croak out anything short of sounds of panic, what with a hand literally around his throat! As the vampire got his fill, the bullet spilled out of the wound which immediately sealed up. Zack turned just in time from his rage to see his best friend and brother collapse, pale as the moon, and completely still. Scrambling for the gun and emptying the remainder into this freak, he resorted even to throwing the entire empty thing at him as he continued to advance. Fishing a chain from Simon's other bag on his bike, he got ready to defend himself. As the vampire closed in, Zack attempted to whip him across the face with the implement. He was surprised when it was grasped, and as he was reeled in with unholy strength he remembered something; he specialty kick really, really hurt this thing. Reeling a leg back, he aimed center mass. ''Hey, freak! Remember this one!?''
''Zūmukikku!''
With the added velocity of the vampire's pull, Zack's leg not only found its mark, but buried deep within it. The macabre stranger let out a howl of excruciating pain, not only smoking this time but...was he on fire!? No, it wasn't flame, but it sure looked that way! Staggering backward, the stranger reached out and grasped at the air desperately, trying to reach Zack to presumably drain another victim, unknown to the young Hamon artist. Just as his grip fell short, his body burned away into ash. Thinking quickly so as to avoid johnny law (as he could already hear the sirens), he drove the bike using back roads back into the city to the chop shop, avoiding any checkpoints he could pick up on the radio. He hated doing this to Simon's precious bike, but he dropped it off there, along with the chain and gun kept inside it. It'd be broken down and distributed, making it extremely tough to track. The chain wasn't a big deal, and the gun could be distributed elsewhere or dismantled, whatever the chop shop owner wanted to do with it. The guy had contacts and while he wasn't happy about it, he understood the situation. ''Strangely, I wanna believe you,'' he'd said, after Zack explained the truth. ''I needed that. I started to think I was going crazy...Simon and Terry, both dead. I didn't even have time to grieve for either one of them. I don't know what i'm gonna tell Terry's family.'' ''Let the crew handle that part. Just calm down for a few days, and try and relax. Visit them when you feel better. For Simon, it sounds like they'd write it off as a bar fight gone wrong. Terry, what with the car still there...hopefully they'll look at it as an auto accident. You said the one freak turned to...ash, right? The wind will take care of him, i'd wager.''Good, he was starting to get his story straight.
''Look, bud. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I gotta get going. I need to just go home and sleep this off. I think i'm gonna be sick.'' ''Sure. I'm sorry you went through all that, but this isn't the first time i've heard of something like this.'' ''Really? There's other freaks like that out there?'' ''Yeah, a contact of mine bumped into one and lost three of his boys.'' ''It's like that guy wasn't human. I put a bullet through his head.''
''Look, bud. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I gotta get going. I need to just go home and sleep this off. I think i'm gonna be sick.'' ''Sure. I'm sorry you went through all that, but this isn't the first time i've heard of something like this.'' ''Really? There's other freaks like that out there?'' ''Yeah, a contact of mine bumped into one and lost three of his boys.'' ''It's like that guy wasn't human. I put a bullet through his head.''
''He doesn't think they are either. In fact, he's got a name for people like that, if you could call em that.''
''He calls 'em Vampires.''
