undergrounds | Fight like the night (OTA)

A Day

If anyone is up on current popular forms of social media, they’ll have noticed a certain trending topic on Instagram. Several pictures of two men beaten up and lashed to a lamppost have been making the rounds. If not for various injuries, one could almost mistake it for a frat house initiation hijink. Those knowing the signs will recognize several of their injuries as vampire bite marks. What makes the pictures quite extraordinary is that the two men are hunters. In another photo, there’s a picture of an unconscious female hunter also beaten to a pulp. While whoever took the photos is nowhere to be found in frame, he’s left several taunting messages at the bottom of each one. “Hillingdon: 0. Me: 3.” reads one. “All hail the mighty Hillingdon hunters,” reads another.

Cooper’s busy looking them over for about the fiftieth time, snickering as he does so. He’s sitting out on a park bench, taking advantage of his temporary immunity from the sun in a T-shirt and shorts. Anyone who gets close to him will notice the dilated pupils and disheveled look he has. He can’t remember the last time he slept. Not that he needs to, hyped up like he is on the fae blood. He glances down at his phone, flipping to another picture, letting out a cackle as he does so.

B Evening

The restless energy he can’t seem to shake hasn’t left him by the time the sun starts to set. There’s only one thing to do. He pulls his little BSA M20 out of the garage and takes it out for a spin. Cooper speeds recklessly all over the city, letting his energy get left far behind as the wind whips past his motorcycle. There’s nothing that soothes his mind like riding around.

Maybe you’re scrambling to make your way across the street just as he comes to a noisy, screeching halt. Maybe he spots you on the other side of the street and recklessly pulls a U-turn so that he can pull up next to where you are. Maybe he’s idling at the curb, waiting for you to come out of a shop after catching your scent. Any way you look at it, there’s a vampire sitting on top of a motorcycle who’s taken quite the interest in you.

C Night

Long after the last light has faded from the sky, Cooper knows he needs to feed. The problem is that he’s not craving human blood tonight. After accidentally tasting Will’s blood, all he can think about is fae blood. He resists the urges as long as he can. Alas, eventually, his will crumbles. He takes to the streets, stalking his prey. What he wants most of all is going to be hard to find, but in his current strung-out state, he’ll take anything and everything he can get.

Skulking down alleyways and climbing over rooftops, he’s not the perfect silent predator he usually is. People that he’s following will feel a prickle on the back of their necks, some sixth sense warning them that somebody is watching them. If they aren’t careful, he’ll strike them down and feed without pity.

D Wildcard

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For a guy who usually loves the spotlight, Sirius has been pretty good at keeping a low profile these days. Eventually he'll be able to move past this sneaking lifestyle but for now it serves. Never mind that it was nearly cut short by a maniac on a motorbike.

Although, Sirius is quick to forgive since he was one of those once upon a time. And he's always had an appreciation for motorcycles (one that was only heightened by the fact that his parents disproved heartily). He misses his own, and can only wonder where it ended up. Likely a scrap heap or somewhere.

"Nice bike," he says, throwing caution to the wind for the time being.

Cooper barely avoids the man, coming to a halt about six inches away from his shoes. He grins at the compliment "Thanks. She's my baby." He's had one of these bikes since they first came out in the 40s.

An irritable honk from a driver behind him as the light changes makes him whip his head around, yelling at them. "Go around me, ya fuckin' moron!" He turns back towards Sirius, looking apologetic. "Sorry. Some people have no manners." Whether he was referring to himself or the other driver was ambiguous.

"No kidding, haven't seen one of these in years." Even if one ignores the time he spent in prison. And as far as Sirius is concerned, it's worth risking his foot for.

"My fault for starting the whole thing," he replies with a shrug. The middle of the street probably wasn't the best place, but he hadn't really been able to stop himself.

"Let's move this to a place more suited for conversation." Since there's hardly any spots to park the bike on the busy street, Cooper actually hops up on the curb and parks it right in the middle of the sidewalk. Anyone who complains can bite him. Or, more likely, will get bitten by him.

"So d'you still ride?" He's seen enough riders to know that while some were lifelong riders, others went through a youthful indiscretion phase before switching over to safer means of transportation.

Sirius might have suggested a sidestreet, but the curb works just as well for him.

"Not really. Lost my bike a couple years back and haven't really had a chance to get another."

Briefly he wondered what had happened to his bike. Hopefully it hadn't been confiscated or resold or something like that. Hopefully, one of his friends (if he still had them) had taken it and was looking after it or something. He really should check in with them.

Cooper nods sympathetically. His first assumption is that Sirius must have lost his job and subsequently the bike. He looks a little down on his luck, though the vampire's not so blunt as to mention that fact out loud.

"That's a rough bit of luck. What did you used t'have?" Motorcycles were one of Cooper's consistent passions and had been for many years. He could stay here all night and talk about them.

"An old Triumph Bonneville," Sirius replies, remembering the bike fondly. "I spent a lot of time working on it, since it wasn't in the best shape when I got it."

But it had worked well enough for him, and he'd even managed a sidecar for his friends.

[ooc: type of motorcycle used in the films.]

Cooper pushes the kickstand out, hopping off and leaning up against his bike. He isn't able to ride all motorcycles thanks to how small he is, but he knows about the Triumph Bonneville line. "Nice. Which generation was it?" There had been three, if his old memory was serving him correctly.

"A T120, one of the first," Sirius says with a bit of reverie. "Even had the sidecar."

And now he couldn't deny the itch to go looking for it. But he'd put that aside for later.

"I had to leave London very suddenly, so I don't know what happened to it."

"Bet that cost a pretty penny." Motorcycles weren't a cheap indulgence, even if the quality ones did last for years. "With any luck, it ended up in someone's garage 'stead of the local dump. Why'd you have t'leave the city?" Was that a nosy question to ask of someone he just met? Probably. Did Cooper care? Not at all.

"I hope so. I left it in pretty good condition."

One could only hope, but now he was resolved to go looking.

"Family matter, an uncle of mine got sick and wanted me to look after his affairs." A complete and total lie, of course, but the last thing he need to do was admit to his criminal status in the middle of a public street. He was fairly certain he was getting strange looks already.

Cooper doesn't suspect the lie at all, taking it instead at face value. "Welcome back to the city then. Doubt much has changed since you were gone." Big cities Cooper has found, aside from technology, tend to have their hearts and people remain much the same. Leave for a hundred years and they'd still be very much the same when he came back to them.

"Thanks," Sirius replies. "In some ways it has, in others it hasn't. Still looks the same but it seems busier for some reason. Maybe I've just been in quieter areas."

"Time t'get back in the busier sections, I think. That's where all the actions at." Cooper has always enjoyed having himself in the thick of things. "Fingers crossed you get that bike back. It'd be nice t'have someone out there on the roads that I know."

He would go back there, but then he might get noticed. He walks a fine line and while he is reckless, it's been curbed in recent years.

"Thanks. Here's hoping."

Fight like the night (OTA)

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