Little Fighter (The Lost Boys)

Chapter One: Little Fighter

Santa Carla, the supposed murder capital of the world. It's home to the odds and ends of (un)civilized America. Every type of person can be found in this small way-side coastal town if you look close enough. But sometimes when you look too closely, you find things you rather not see. Like the thousands of Missing Persons notices. Or the overflowing cemeteries with their graffitied headstones. The list just goes on and on.

But Santa Carla really isn't that bad of a town. Really, it's not. Carla's got quite the night life if you are into that sort of thing. If you're not, well, then you shouldn't be here. Let's be honest. You can't play with the big boys if you aren't prepared to get knocked around a bit. Trust me when I say that this place can be pretty rough. Carla's a tough Old Lady and that's what people love about her. She's the genuine article. And even the real deal has some rules to live by. Her Golden Rule is pretty simple.

Don't die.

In this town it's kill or be killed. The killed part might be a real drag but I'll tell you this though...the killing part ? It can be pretty awesome.

"Where is she? Dwayne! Where the hell did she go to now? You were supposed to watch her."

David stormed into the main cavern of the hidden lair looking extremely peeved. Decked all out in black and sporting a peroxide mullet that only he could pull off, the leader of the small band of Santa Carla vampires looked like one of those bad-boy Billy Idol types from an MTV music video. The thoroughly pissed off look on his face only added to his over-all gravitas. Yep, David was quite a looker. Pity his personality was a real drag.

"I turned my back for a second and then she was gone. She couldn't have gotten far."

Dwayne ran his hand through his long black hair for the umpteenth time that night. Tall, dark, and handsome, he was a brooding stand-in of a Calvin Klein model with a wild edge that could have sold tube socks by the truck load with a well-timed scowl. He may not have had a heart beat in years but his face was one of those that could certainly break hearts with a look. His was a quiet certainty that gelled well with David's electric charisma which had lofted him to the position of second-in-command in their small band of brothers. The two vampires worked well together despite being about as similar as the far side of the moon.

Only not right then. David was on the rag and there was no getting a sensible word in edgewise when that happened. Better to stay quiet and let things take their course.

It had been close to a month and their "problem child" had given them the slip more times than anyone would care to admit. It was starting to grate on Dwayne's nerves and he was supposed to be the stoic one of the group.

"Then check the Boardwalk. I'll hit the coast. She wouldn't go near the residential areas." David muttered as he yanked his trench coat off the back of a broken chair and threw it on. Not missing a beat he headed for the mouth of the cave while Dwayne followed at his heels.

"And if I find her?" Dwayne asked even though he knew what the answer would be.

"Drag her ass back here and whatever you do don't let Max see you."

David was all sharp edges as they quickly made their way up the long rickety wooden staircase that wormed its way up to the top of the cliff. The thing was a deathtrap waiting to happen and that was what made it a perfect fit for their secluded hole in the rock wall. No one with half a working brain cell would dare descend those stairs because it was painfully obvious that if they did attempt it they would become nothing more than a colourful splat against the jagged waterlogged rocks that waited below.

No other words were spoken as the two vampires mounted their waiting motorcycles and sped off into the night. Dwayne made a beeline for the the bright lights and tinny sounds of the Boardwalk while David was swallowed up by the waiting darkness, leaving nothing but tire tracks in the rocky sand as he gunned it towards Hudson's Bluff.