Cold Bitch

Behind Blue Eyes - The Who

The blood covered boy is standing in the middle of the cage with the empty blood bags scattered around him, his staring eyes following them intensively as he's growling at them. He's showing sharp teeth at them as he gnarls, intimidating them with his fangs. Fangs. What the fuck have we done, Mickey thinks. He can't tear his eyes away from the beast locked inside their trap. What's really disturbing to him, is that the creature looks just like them. He could have walked past them in the streets, or go to school with them and they'd just think he's another kid. If they even noticed him at all. He wonders how old he is, this innocent looking thing could be two hundred years, or older, disguising himself underneath youthful skin and clear blue eyes. He thinks about how many people he must have slaughtered just to be able to keep on killing. Repulsed by the vermin, Mick feels obliged to punish the creature for his sins. To end the continuous cycle or his wrongdoings forever.

While Mickey is plotting the death of the vampire, Vincent is mouth agape at the sight of it. He was right! Is he terrified? Yes. But is he just as excited? Absolutely. He's starting to imagine all the possibilities and what else might be out there. If vampires exist, there has to be more. People don't know about this, or maybe they do. What if the government is just keeping it away from them? There's definitely more vampires, someone had to bite this one, right? He wonders what he has seen, what he might tell them. There's an overwhelming feeling coming with all these thoughts. He has no idea where to begin. Conclusion: He'll need a bigger notebook.

His planning is interrupted by Mickey, who Vincent had forgotten was even there. "H-Hey, Vince?" He calls. "Your time to shine, man. What do we do now?" A shaky Mick asks him. All the confidence that usually enriches his voice is totally gone. He looks scared and he's not holding onto those blankets as religiously as he was doing before. Vincent turns his head to look at him, stone faced. "Get the truck."

Mickey happily complies, he doesn't really want to be near that thing any longer than necessary. He nods his head quickly and starts to walk back briskly, taking long strides and leaving his friend alone with the stoned guys and the monster. Truely, what a friend he is.

Vincent looks at Eddie and M, still tangled up in each other, standing still as statues and breathing heavily. Pathetic. He takes a sharp step towards them and snatches the flashlight out of M's frozen hand. "While you two piss each others pants" He insults them "I'm gonna take a closer look" He continues and gives them a nasty glare. Walking closer to the cage, he adds "And sober up, boys!" without even turning his head to look at them. As he's walking closer, the vampire turns his attention to just him. He's staring daggers at him and is threatening him with hisses. The vampire takes a few demanding steps forward, gripping the bars, almost pressing up against them.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" A panicked M is shouting after him. "STOP, DON'T GO ANY CLOSER!!" Eddie, also very panicked, has chosen an entirely different strategy. While M is shouting at the top of his lungs, Eddie starts vigorously shaking him, telling him in a whisper-shout to "shut the fuck up!" Vince, not being as stupid as he looks, stays at a safe distance. He points the flashlight in the vampire's face where he's met by a pair of angry eyes. He watches the red liquid that has begun to dry and feels a shiver running down his spine. Being this close to the vampire he can finally get a good look at his face. His blue eyes, the sickly pale skin and those razor sharp teeth, glistening with blood under the light. Getting dizzy by looking at the face, he lowers the flashlight to observe his clothes. He almost expected the vampire to carry old, torn and dirty clothes that look like they're from the eighteenth century but to his surprise it's rather modern clothes. Sure, they look dirty and a bit torn in some places too, but the vampire is actually dressed in normal clothes for a teenager of their time. A flannel, jeans, a plain shirt and a pair of well used black boots. He looks... normal. If you ignore the blood staining his wear, obviously.