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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Abby doesn't know who's driving the motorcycle. All she sees is something that doesn't look like it's going to stop, so she dives for the other side of the road... and doesn't stay on her feet. Her knee scrapes the curb. She does finish her scramble up onto the sidewalk, but she's hissing profanity under her breath as her knee aches. It's not anything serious, no. She's more shaken than actually injured. After all, that's the second near-miss with a vehicle in as many months.

It's probably too late. She hasn't realised that the motorcyclist stops. Which is why she shouts, assuming he's already too far to hear.

"Watch where the fuck you're going!"

Cooper slowly turns his head around, looking a little like an owl in his oversized goggles as he does so. He doesn't care who that is. Nobody yells at him when he's on his bike and gets away with it. There's fire in his eyes. "Excuse me?"

Then he realizes just who it is he's nearly run down. The look of anger on his face is quickly replaced by a sheepish look accompanied by his hand scratching the back of his head. It's one thing to run down a perfect stranger, another to nearly take out a friend. "Oops," he mumbles.

And when he starts to round on her, Abby knows the smart thing to do is to run. But she's in pain and she's pissed. And she just had her just-about-monthly brush with death. So. Well. She doesn't bother to think about safety or discretion. She has power enough.

"You heard me, you son-of-a--"

But before she can actually finish, she sees him. And sees a friend. Which makes all her fury just deflate. Instead, she pushes herself to her feet and makes a nominal attempt to brush off the dust and such from her clothes.

"Hey," she manages with her own half-embarrassed smile. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Well, this is awkward." He balances on the bike as he watches Abigail pull herself back up. Last time he'd nearly run over Nancy, she'd deflated one of his tires. He didn't want to think about what this little dark witch could do if she was properly mad at him. She might deflate him.

He looks her over with some concern. "Did I hurt ya?"

"'M fine. Just a little shaken up." She knows better than to direct her temper at drivers. First off, most of them could probably hurt her. And might if she started screaming at them. But, well, she couldn't really take out her frustration where she wanted to. No way to yell at her ancestors or the bitch or bastard who placed the curse.

And, well, there's a little more harm done than scaring her, but it's barely a problem and, well. Sure, Cooper can probably smell it, but... Telling a vampire you're bleeding is just tactless.

"You sure, girlie-girl?" He raises up an eyebrow, his voice wheedling and coaxing, mind trying desperately not to focus on the smell of blood he can sense coming from her scrapes. It's one of the reasons he doesn't dare get off the bike and approach her. His self-control, usually tightly coiled inside of him, is shot to shit right now. "You can tell ol' Cooper."

"Little scraped up. Nothing a bit of disinfectant can't take care of, though," she replies. It's frustrating, yes, but she can deal with something that small. "Sorry about yelling at you. It's... been a long week."

Too many close calls, too much danger.

Cooper doesn't want to take her purely at her word, but he's not getting up to check. Friends don't go feeding off of friends, no matter how hungry they are. He remains where he is. "I'd say so." He smiles gently at her. "It's not every day a person starts up a coven of dark witches."

"Thanks, though. For making sure I'm okay." She gives a smile, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. It'll be a bit of a painful walk home, but. Well. No permanent damage done. "Maybe we can... hang out sometime? When things aren't so... y'know."

"Make it a definite yes. One of these days, things will be normal." He pauses, considering what absurdity the definition normal means for a two-hundred and thirty four year old vampire and a dark witch who lives in a haunted house. "Well, as normal as things ever are for us."

She laughs a bit, nodding. "Well, you've got my number if you--" Reword. Reword. 'Go out sometime' sounds like she's asking for a date. Which... she wouldn't mind. But. Is she supposed to ask a guy out? Especially when said guy is a lot older than her even though he doesn't look it? Vampire semantics. Annoying.

"If you wanna hang out."

Cooper is both simultaneously older and younger than anyone he has an interest in. It's a nice, complicated situation for him. He doesn't miss Abigail's pause. He's been around long enough to know how the game is played. "Most definitely. I'll give you a ring one of these days when you're least expectin' it."

Fight like the night (OTA)

B

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