Bloodlust

Journalist/Crashed

The windswept woman with the weird purple beret and green satchel settled down into her seat on the train. She sighed. It was ridiculously late to be traveling, but she had no choice.  This was her last chance, her boss had told her, her last chance to actually get some sort of article down. It wasn't that she didn't try, or that she hated writing, it was just that she saw things differently. She wasn't at all interested in what other people were, so no one read anything she chose to write, and if she was told specifically what to write about the she just lost interest. But this, from what her boss told her, was new, exciting, different. There were rumours of a real-life vampire in a city not too far from her! She leant back in her seat, wondering just how she'd go about gathering information about something that had never been seen. A loud voice on the telecom made her jump in her rather uncomfortable seat, informing her that she was at her final destination. With an excited smile on her face, Bridie McKay pushed to the train's doors and stepped out onto the wide platform, nearly losing her favourite purple beret to the wind.

Dylan Jones, vision blocked by the rapidly expanding airbag, was in shock. What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all? He was sure he had just seen Sarah, HIS Sarah, about to be bitten by a...a vampire. He shook himself, told himself to get real, and swore that he would switch to decaf in the morning.  A wave of nausea swept over him, and he was swaying as he got out of the "borrowed" police car. Sarah was sitting on the pavement, telling herself that it was all a dream, and that she'd wake up any minute. Dylan cautiously stumbled towards the (now smoking) car bonnet, wondering if he could just apologize to the poor man he'd just driven into a wall, or if they'd be unconscious. Or dead. Probably dead. Holding his hands out to show that he was unarmed and mean no harm, he carefully looked for a body, or any trace of whoever he'd driven into...His eyes drifted over the crumbling wall the car was sticking out of and was met with the sight of...Nothing. Or, well, almost nothing. The only thing there were ten deep grooves in the metal, as if huge claws had been dragged down the bonnet. He was so engrossed in trying to figure out what this was, that he nearly didn't notice the car door slam. Dylan whipped around to see Sarah, even more pale than usual, sitting in the passenger seat. He got in beside her, not sure of what to say, when she verbalized what they were both thinking:

"What. The. Hell. WAS that thing?"

Shaking his head, Dylan leant backwards in the driver's seat and closed his eyes, wondering if this was real, and if his boss would be too angry with him for crashing one of the stations few cars.