Exposition - Fearless Vampire Killers Fan Fiction (Short Story) {Completed}

Part 2 - The Thief: Merchants Of Decay

Part Two

The Thief: Merchants Of Decay

The soft, cold surface I was laying on jolted rhythmically, rousing me from my unconscious state. I kept my eyes shut, though, in no way willing to admit that I was awake and aware.

The first thing I noted was that I wasn't tied up: nothing binding my wrists or ankles: I wasn't even tied down to the surface I was on. I was in no way restrained.

Even so, I realised my current position was beyond hopeless: stuck in what felt like a moving carriage, with no idea where I was or how far I had come from that hell-hole, without a clue who I was with or what their temperaments were like or even an inkling of what my future may contain.

No, right now I was pretty helpless: all I could do was listen. To try and figure out an escape.

At first, I couldn't quite hear them; my hearing still like I had water in my ears or something, but eventually it cleared enough for me to make sense of their conversation:

"... her?"

"Her? Still asleep."

"She better wake up soon. I really don't want to have to explain why the Prince's new breeder is unconscious."

"Well you did insist on throwing her around like a rag doll, Kier."

So, Kier is the fucktard red-head who threw me around, I thought bitterly: good to know.

"She might as well get used to the treatment. It'll be her new norm."

"Not if it's Laurence that has her."

"And what's the likelihood of that? When his other Royal Highness just killed his last breeder?" he spat the name with such venom it gave me a little hope they might help me escape.

There was silence for a few seconds, before: "We should never have done this."

"Her head or our's, Drew."

Or maybe they won't.

Tears hung in my throat and I lost my breath as I realised there nothing I could do. With that sentence, the man - Kier - had sealed my fate.

My head or their's. My happiness or their's. My life or their's.

And who was I?

A gutter rat picked up from a factory filled with similar girls. No-one was going to miss me, that was for certain. No family, no friends, no-one. I was a fucking goner, and there was nothing that these two would do to help me.

I wanted to sob.

But I knew I couldn't.

With that, in mind, I decided to 'wake up'. The time for listening was over: now I needed to see where I was, know the layout of the surrounding landscape. If these two wouldn't help me, I'd have to help myself. And to do that, I needed to see what was going on.

So, groaning, I slowly worked an arm under my body and pushed myself upright, blinking my eyes open and rubbing the back of my skull: where I could feel crusted blood coating my hair and skin.

The red-head was an utter bastard.

Slowly, I looked up to see two men looking back at me, their backs towards the direction we were travelling in and looking nothing but utterly impassive.

On second thoughts: both men were utter bastards.

With such a thought in mind, I lifted the corner of my upper lip in a sneer I'd been practising since I could remember, one that never failed to get people out of my way. Whether it worked or not, I didn't know; their expressions didn't change, but I wasn't disheartened.