Fight like the night (OTA)

[emotioneater]

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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C

[damnyank]

Jackson undoes the top flap of his satchel and takes out a handkerchief to blot the blood off his face.

While he doesn't smell particularly special, being only a witch, Jackson may prove a temptation nonetheless. For he sports a split lip and bloody nose-- a gift from a testy Sergeant and his fist, following a comment Jackson made about how his incompetency as a copper must reflect in bed.

The blood dripping down his face is akin to a Styrofoam to-go container left open in a small room, the smell wafting into the air for Cooper and his exceptionally keen senses to enjoy. He should be more careful, given his history with vampires, but Jackson's gotten complacent since his arrival in London over a year ago.

The distant sounds of police sirens and the lively laughter of a rooftop party two blocks down provide the soundtrack for the night. The air gives off a false sense of stillness and calm, lulling him into a peaceful promenade, free from fear or anxiety.

When you're safe for too long, you can forget the precautions that must be taken to remain unscathed.

[emotioneater]

Jackson's blood is like a red flag being waved in front of a bull. Cooper zeroed in on his target from blocks away. Hopping from roof to roof, he kept an eye on the captain from a safe distance away. Like a good predator, he was watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. Just because he had fae blood in his system to make him reckless didn't mean he was going to stupid as well.

He waited until he was sure the man was alone and had his guard down. Then he struck. A blur clad in dark clothes, he jumped down from the rooftop he was on, landing less then a foot away from Jackson in a crouched position. Hmmm, Cooper was losing his touch. He'd meant to land right on his meal and stun him before he knew what was happening. No matter. He'd feed off of him regardless. Standing up, his fangs came out and he faced Jackson, looking both crazy and hungry.

[damnyank]

Rather than be the deer, Jackson refuses to cower, back-up, or reveal even the slightest jot of fear. He just wipes the blood off his face, keeps his feet planted firm, and stares Cooper straight in the eyes, all the while, bracing himself for this to get bloody. And it's not just posturing. Jackson's got a history with vampires, having made good friends of them once, and in turn, learned how to present himself in front of their kind. Jackson had grown accustomed to being amongst creatures that would call him dinner.

But that was in the past, before Jackson sold that nest out and got them all killed.

What's the chance that out of all the warm, wandering bodies of London with all that blood singing in their veins, this vampire would find him? What if it's too much of a coincidence? Paranoia connects disparate points of cause and effect, putting into his mind the idea that maybe this wasn't a random attack.

"You lookin' to make a reward out of me?" Jackson's voice is full of sharp, jagged edges. He spits a glob of blood on the asphalt. "Did he send you?"

Cooper though... he just seems ravenous and crazed, the only intent driving him being pure desire and instinct. An injured vampire, perhaps? Or a newborn?

"Be in your best interest to move along, pal. I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

Nevertheless, this witch is prepared to fight.

[emotioneater]

This one's a cool customer, Cooper will give him that. No fear in his eyes. Well, he'll change that soon enough. He smiles in a crooked fashion, the expression made ghastly when done with a full mouth of fangs. His head tilts as he listens. He's not sure what Jackson's talking about, but maybe he can use this to unsettle the other man.

Hunger is what's driving him forward right now. He'll take what he wants. So he goes for a lie, hoping that it's vague enough that Jackson won't see the complete and utter bullshit behind it. "From what he told me, you're more trouble than you're worth. But that's what makes it fun for me."

[damnyank]

"Right." Processing his response, Jackson decides that it's unlikely that this bloodsucker's really got a clue to whom he's referring, seeing as Cooper intend plan to keep him alive. "When somebody's got as much hate as my old friend's got for me, well, nothing's too much trouble. He wants me alive and you..."

Jackson clenches his fist, a spell still on the tip of his tongue--

"You want to eat me." Fire erupts in his palm. "I won't be very appetizing. Trust me. I taste all... witchy."

[emotioneater]

Cooper gives a short laugh. "I was hopin' t'bullshit you a little while longer, but I guess my talent for lying isn't doing so well this evening." He'd do better at this if he wasn't so strung-out on fae blood.

He eyes that fireball and considers retreat. Nah. Meals that fight back just mean they taste all the sweeter once they're fully subdued. "Too bad for you I'm not a picky eater." He'd eaten everything that had walked or crawled on the earth at one point or another, men, women, children, and feisty witches included. There's a beat where he just stands there. Then he makes a feint like he's going to left before dashing off to the right, hoping to get Jackson to waste that fireball.

[damnyank]

Jackson's rather rusty at this, for it'd been two years since any head-on confrontation with a vampire, and he's grown more complacent than he'd like to admit. Still, he catches that feint just in time to salvage his spell, angling himself so that remains squared off with Cooper. The fire sits as a threat in his palm, but he doesn't direct it anywhere.

If he were to fight with Cooper... his anonymity could be at stake, not that the vampire seems to be familiar with Goodnight. But with the speed and reach of communications these days, he's wary of any disruption to his temporary peace.

In other words, he'd like to avoid this fight.

"Judgin' from your behavior, I figure you must be hopped on some tweeker, and therefore, may not be thinking straight." Takes one to know one Jackson. "But killin' me wouldn't be to your best interest-- do that, and you won't have a friend down at the station wrapping up your homicides all neat with a bow.

He gives a smile that looks a touch too smarmy.

"Just today, I had to help with some assaulted hunters."

[emotioneater]

All of what the witch is saying goes in one ear and out the other. He's only half listening until that line about assaulted hunters. Cooper stops just short of Jackson, not quite close enough to grab him. His head cocks to the side as he considers what he's just been told. It's not enough to keep Jackson from being considered a potential meal, but it's a good start.

"The ones that got beaten up 'n tied up to a post?" He questions. There's no way he could be connected with what's happened. He'd been too careful to have things get tied back to him. There was the little matter of what he's posted on social media, but anyone with a cell phone these days can post pictures. There's no proof.

[damnyank]

"Not enough claws to be a werewolf, too physical an attack to be a witch or Fae, which leaves..." He makes a gesture with his right hand, filling in the word.

Don't worry, Cooper. There are no connections here, only a coincidence. Having occurred only a few hours back, the beat and tie-up is an event that's floating on the top of Jackson's memory, plucked and presented for convenience. As for Cooper's involvement, Jackson remains ignorant. For now, 'lest the vampire's inquiry about the incident not result in exposing himself.

"I work for the police down at Whitechapel, which -- if I recall rightly -- is nestled in the heart of vampire territory. Amongst my mundane cases of murder and mayhem, I often find myself at the pleasure of forensicating vampire crimes." He takes moment to look Cooper in the eyes. "Now to humans, you're a page in a teenage romance novel-- to the Night Council, you're a pariah."

Words, so many words. Jackson brings bullshit to his defense whenever he's trying to save his ass without a fight. He is indeed a forensic scientist, and does indeed work for the police, but his alliances depend on whom he's addressing.

"I'm reporting to the head of the Council as a favor. Doing right by my kind, or so they think." Jackson takes a step back, hand still raised, a spell still readied. "What I'm really doing is tryin' to live my life without hassle. Covering up your crimes. And thus, keeping them out of my hair-- makin' it seem like I got it all handled."

Whether that's the truth is uncertain, but he certainly sounds earnest. Jackson's all but dropped the glibness from his words.

"Now you can go ahead and fight me, or you can find yourself another morsel. Somebody far less useful."

[emotioneater]

"You talk too much." That's pretty much the sum of what Cooper's gotten out of Jackson's words. The vampire is too hyped up to listen to reason for more than a few minutes and Jackson's just about used up his entire quota. The only reason he's not biting into him right this second is because he wants to see how much the witch knows. Judging by what he's saying as he goes on, there's nothing tying him to the crime.

"But if you're as useful as you claim t'be, I won't drain you dry." That's not a guarantee he won't try for a bite. He's faster than a human, even a witch, and he's close enough to make a grab for Jackson, his fangs bared. "Just need a taste, mind you." Mind muddled as it is by the fae blood in his system, Cooper's recklessly forgotten about the spell still held in his hand.