Post by Mina Crow on Jul 7, 2006 7:57:37 GMT 12
[Let me explain this. I wanted to make a new advertisement, and thus this text was born on its initial form. However, I figured it would be too big for an advertisment, and anyway it wouldn't go to well, because it dealt with Vampires only. So... Here's a bit of Vampire fanfic. Enjoy.]
You squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out their murmurs. Pretend they are not there. Maybe this is all just a bad dream, maybe you're going to wake up any moment...
You stumble over your own feet – your eyes flare open. It didn't work – did you expect it to? A hand digs into your shoulder, preventing you from falling. Hands bound behind your back, it's easy to lose your footing, and they know it. They've been through this many times before.
They are still pushing you onward, and by his muffled groans you know Tim is somewhere behind you. You count fifteen, maybe twenty of them; there are probably more, hidden on the shadows of Rhymes Square. Tim looks at you. His eyes still glare defiance, but blood flows freely from his forehead, and you saw him spit small bits of tooth. You aren't injured, for the most part – but their eyes tell you it might not be long until that particular issue is solved.
You still wonder how you got captured. You were walking through the Grid with Tim; he had asked your help on scavenging a few buildings. The pair of you had just noticed a red handprint on a wall when Tim started running for his life, pushing you, urging you forward. A shadow jumped through a window – and you went sprawling to the ground, bullrushed by one of them. A boy with a claw-like marking on his face. A Vampire Hunter. The elite of the most dangerous tribe of the Children of the Sandstorm.
You are brought back to the present as the murmurs are hushed; Tim doubles over suddenly, and a kick on the back of your legs forces you to kneel, barely managing to catch yourself from falling headfirst on the asphalt. Tim growls, shoved uncaringly into a kneeling position. You want to help him, to yell at them to stop it – but it would only worsen it. You can see steel on their hands, now, razor-sharp blades reflecting the failing light. Your attention is drawn to the only two not carrying knives – two boys, one with a loaded crossbow and the other with a paintball gun. The crossbow is aimed at Tim, the paintball gun at yourself. The grim determination of the gunner's face tells you the weapon is not loaded with innocent paint ammunition.
Without ever losing their aim, the two boys step aside to make way for a boy and a girl. You have heard about them; even if you hadn't, you could tell by their carriage those two are the leaders of the Vampires. Sven and Mina, Beta and Mistress of the Vampires, also known as Rooster and the Crow. Looking at them, you can see how they got their street names – both tall and proud, Mina wraps herself on black clothing, the sharp contrast with her pale skin enhanced by her raven black hair and blood-red scarf. She looks like one of those vampires of gothic stories, cold gray eyes searing into your flesh. Human still – yet lacking emotion but for those raging eyes. Sven, on the contrary, smirks openly, his eyebrows rising as he faces first Tim, then you. As pale as his Mistress, he wears a jacket on the style of the nazi SS police which gives him a look of dark executioner. His pale blonde hair falls freely at the sides of his head, rising on a mohawk crest on the middle; deep blue eyes, the color of ice, mock you both, already delighting on the pleasure of the torturing to come.
Tim snorts as he faces the two leaders, and immediately doubles over again with a kick on his back. This time, no hand gets down to pull him up. You cringe; it seems he doesn’t care anymore. If you were religious, you might have prayed – but which god will hear you on the remnants of this wreck of a city? A sudden memory blinks into your mind – long ago, on the green fields of your Irish homeland, the people believed in the Crow Goddess. Death herself, under another guise. Is it her, standing in form of you?
Mina looks down at you for a moment, then at Tim. A slight smile dawns on her lips as your companion brings his head up to meet her gaze. Still defiant. She walks over to him – does she glide over the ground, without touching it? You are not sure – and places a hand under his chin, pulling it up. Almost gentle, almost a caress. Was that appraisal, what flittered through her eyes? Again, you can't tell for sure. Their gazes are locked on each other; Mina grins openly, and for the first time you notice she carries no visible weapon. As if that mattered – you're drifting again. Stay focused.
Still they do not move, and the surrounding Vampires keep a ghostly silent guard. At last, you see the Beta stir – he looks somewhat uncomfortable, impatient. Yet, his smirk lingers on. Mina brushes her hand across Tim's neck – and you see blood dripping from the skin of them both, sprouting from the gash on his forehead. Without sparing Tim another look, she turns to face you again. Now more than ever, you see the Crow Goddess in her and freeze, unable to divert your eyes. She doesn't seem interested in you, though. With a few steps, she is back to her place next to the Beta and the two gunslingers.
"You have trespassed into our land." Her voice is icy cold, devoid of emotion, terribly ominous. Your knees burn in pain, and you can barely feel your fingers due to the bindings. And now you have a sudden urge to scratch your nose; in the overall view of things, you have worse things to deal with at the moment, but the itch on your nose doesn't seem to care, and it's driving you crazy. It's ridiculous, and you surprise yourself by laughing hysterically.
A heartbeat later, you're facedown on the ground, kicked like Tim had been. The message is clear enough; you try to pull yourself up, but the effort proves itself fruitless. Your nose doesn't itch anymore – thankfully – but it's bleeding from the impact, maybe broken. Now, you can see nothing but a few pairs of feet, your hair falling over your face. There is a moment of quietude, then you're pulled up by the collar of your shirt. It's the paintball gun kid, the open end of the weapon too close for your liking. He glares at you and returns to his former place.
She doesn't seem to have noticed the interruption, and spares you but one look; on it, all the despise and contempt of the world. Yes, she noticed.
"You have set foot on forbidden ground", she continues. "This is our territory, and we do not allow trespassing. For that, the–"
Tim sniggered loudly. You see the crossbow boy twitch, and something falls to he ground on your left. Your head whips around. Tim is dead, a bolt protruding from his throat. You can't help screaming – and a hand grabs your neck. Choking, desperately trying to stand and break free as you're pulled up, you find yourself face to face with Sven.
"Shut up our fu.cking mouth, little troll", he snarls. You keep struggling, but it's a hopeless fight. Bound as you are, he is in complete control. And still Mina speaks as if nothing had happened, as if your friend Tim hadn't just been murdered in front of her.
"That was a pity, Grim. He looked fierce enough, might be fun to play with." She doesn't look too displeased, though. Walking up to you, she looks into your eyes. Your head is swimming now, dark spots surging into your vision.
"You know, we don't kill everyone we come by. Your little friend was stupid enough to defy my authority, and my Hunters obey my will. We have no place for one like you on our ranks, but neither do we want to clutter our lovely pits with such useless prisoners. Let him go, Rooster."
With a last cruel squeeze on your throat, he opens his hand, causing you to crumble on a heap, gulping down fresh, blessed air.
"Besides", she laughs coolly, "what would be of our reputation if we let no one alive to tell the story?"
You squeeze your eyes shut and try to block out their murmurs. Pretend they are not there. Maybe this is all just a bad dream, maybe you're going to wake up any moment...
You stumble over your own feet – your eyes flare open. It didn't work – did you expect it to? A hand digs into your shoulder, preventing you from falling. Hands bound behind your back, it's easy to lose your footing, and they know it. They've been through this many times before.
They are still pushing you onward, and by his muffled groans you know Tim is somewhere behind you. You count fifteen, maybe twenty of them; there are probably more, hidden on the shadows of Rhymes Square. Tim looks at you. His eyes still glare defiance, but blood flows freely from his forehead, and you saw him spit small bits of tooth. You aren't injured, for the most part – but their eyes tell you it might not be long until that particular issue is solved.
You still wonder how you got captured. You were walking through the Grid with Tim; he had asked your help on scavenging a few buildings. The pair of you had just noticed a red handprint on a wall when Tim started running for his life, pushing you, urging you forward. A shadow jumped through a window – and you went sprawling to the ground, bullrushed by one of them. A boy with a claw-like marking on his face. A Vampire Hunter. The elite of the most dangerous tribe of the Children of the Sandstorm.
You are brought back to the present as the murmurs are hushed; Tim doubles over suddenly, and a kick on the back of your legs forces you to kneel, barely managing to catch yourself from falling headfirst on the asphalt. Tim growls, shoved uncaringly into a kneeling position. You want to help him, to yell at them to stop it – but it would only worsen it. You can see steel on their hands, now, razor-sharp blades reflecting the failing light. Your attention is drawn to the only two not carrying knives – two boys, one with a loaded crossbow and the other with a paintball gun. The crossbow is aimed at Tim, the paintball gun at yourself. The grim determination of the gunner's face tells you the weapon is not loaded with innocent paint ammunition.
Without ever losing their aim, the two boys step aside to make way for a boy and a girl. You have heard about them; even if you hadn't, you could tell by their carriage those two are the leaders of the Vampires. Sven and Mina, Beta and Mistress of the Vampires, also known as Rooster and the Crow. Looking at them, you can see how they got their street names – both tall and proud, Mina wraps herself on black clothing, the sharp contrast with her pale skin enhanced by her raven black hair and blood-red scarf. She looks like one of those vampires of gothic stories, cold gray eyes searing into your flesh. Human still – yet lacking emotion but for those raging eyes. Sven, on the contrary, smirks openly, his eyebrows rising as he faces first Tim, then you. As pale as his Mistress, he wears a jacket on the style of the nazi SS police which gives him a look of dark executioner. His pale blonde hair falls freely at the sides of his head, rising on a mohawk crest on the middle; deep blue eyes, the color of ice, mock you both, already delighting on the pleasure of the torturing to come.
Tim snorts as he faces the two leaders, and immediately doubles over again with a kick on his back. This time, no hand gets down to pull him up. You cringe; it seems he doesn’t care anymore. If you were religious, you might have prayed – but which god will hear you on the remnants of this wreck of a city? A sudden memory blinks into your mind – long ago, on the green fields of your Irish homeland, the people believed in the Crow Goddess. Death herself, under another guise. Is it her, standing in form of you?
Mina looks down at you for a moment, then at Tim. A slight smile dawns on her lips as your companion brings his head up to meet her gaze. Still defiant. She walks over to him – does she glide over the ground, without touching it? You are not sure – and places a hand under his chin, pulling it up. Almost gentle, almost a caress. Was that appraisal, what flittered through her eyes? Again, you can't tell for sure. Their gazes are locked on each other; Mina grins openly, and for the first time you notice she carries no visible weapon. As if that mattered – you're drifting again. Stay focused.
Still they do not move, and the surrounding Vampires keep a ghostly silent guard. At last, you see the Beta stir – he looks somewhat uncomfortable, impatient. Yet, his smirk lingers on. Mina brushes her hand across Tim's neck – and you see blood dripping from the skin of them both, sprouting from the gash on his forehead. Without sparing Tim another look, she turns to face you again. Now more than ever, you see the Crow Goddess in her and freeze, unable to divert your eyes. She doesn't seem interested in you, though. With a few steps, she is back to her place next to the Beta and the two gunslingers.
"You have trespassed into our land." Her voice is icy cold, devoid of emotion, terribly ominous. Your knees burn in pain, and you can barely feel your fingers due to the bindings. And now you have a sudden urge to scratch your nose; in the overall view of things, you have worse things to deal with at the moment, but the itch on your nose doesn't seem to care, and it's driving you crazy. It's ridiculous, and you surprise yourself by laughing hysterically.
A heartbeat later, you're facedown on the ground, kicked like Tim had been. The message is clear enough; you try to pull yourself up, but the effort proves itself fruitless. Your nose doesn't itch anymore – thankfully – but it's bleeding from the impact, maybe broken. Now, you can see nothing but a few pairs of feet, your hair falling over your face. There is a moment of quietude, then you're pulled up by the collar of your shirt. It's the paintball gun kid, the open end of the weapon too close for your liking. He glares at you and returns to his former place.
She doesn't seem to have noticed the interruption, and spares you but one look; on it, all the despise and contempt of the world. Yes, she noticed.
"You have set foot on forbidden ground", she continues. "This is our territory, and we do not allow trespassing. For that, the–"
Tim sniggered loudly. You see the crossbow boy twitch, and something falls to he ground on your left. Your head whips around. Tim is dead, a bolt protruding from his throat. You can't help screaming – and a hand grabs your neck. Choking, desperately trying to stand and break free as you're pulled up, you find yourself face to face with Sven.
"Shut up our fu.cking mouth, little troll", he snarls. You keep struggling, but it's a hopeless fight. Bound as you are, he is in complete control. And still Mina speaks as if nothing had happened, as if your friend Tim hadn't just been murdered in front of her.
"That was a pity, Grim. He looked fierce enough, might be fun to play with." She doesn't look too displeased, though. Walking up to you, she looks into your eyes. Your head is swimming now, dark spots surging into your vision.
"You know, we don't kill everyone we come by. Your little friend was stupid enough to defy my authority, and my Hunters obey my will. We have no place for one like you on our ranks, but neither do we want to clutter our lovely pits with such useless prisoners. Let him go, Rooster."
With a last cruel squeeze on your throat, he opens his hand, causing you to crumble on a heap, gulping down fresh, blessed air.
"Besides", she laughs coolly, "what would be of our reputation if we let no one alive to tell the story?"
