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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Stupid little vampire. He has to be young, if he is this easily taken in by the act. An overconfident hunter, sure that he could ensnare young, helpless prey. Well, who was hunting who here? That is the real question.

Cooper's breathe quickens at the touch of hands on his face and it's not entirely forced. It's been a while since he's allowed anyone to get that close to him physically. That thought gets shoved into the back of his mind. He blinks his blue eyes a few times as if trying to gather his thoughts together. He speaks with a quiver in his voice, the desperation sounding clear. "I--I have money. I can pay. Anythin' you want. Just, please..."

"Anythin' I want, huh? Just what I like to hear." His hand traces down Cooper's face, lingers on his neck, before he catches the man's wrist. He's not hungry, but if it's this easy...

"It's nothing much...a little bit you won't even miss. It'll be better than any drug, I can promise you that, lil' sparrow..." He brings Cooper's wrist up near his mouth, inhales--and freezes.

That doesn't smell right.

He knows (better than most, he wagers) the smell, the taste of a vampire's blood. He's always suspected it's unique to each vampire. And this scent isn't human. Not at all. The moment passes, and he smiles, sharper than a knife and fangs bared.

"But I gotta ask, just what the fuck are you doin'?"

Looks like the jig is up. All that pleading and begging vanishes, the traces of a seventeen year old teenager in over his head wiped away and replaced with an old, cunning predator. "The same thing you are. I'm huntin'. 'N apparently doing a better job than you are."

This close, there's nowhere for Liam to dodge. Quick as a flash, his hand is around the young vampire's throat. In the movies, people always lift up someone by the throat so that their toes are scraping the ground. Cooper doesn't do this for two reasons. One, he's too short to properly lift someone up that high. Two, that's a tactic done mainly for intimidation. The iron grip he's got on Liam right now is done for one reason only: to show just how easy he could snap the young one like a twig. "You're in Islington territory now, boy."

The problem with such a threat, is it assumes Liam's much younger, and much weaker, than he actually is. It's an image he cultivates for moments such as these. His strength is unusual, he understands, and the circumstances under which he gained it...

Well, he doesn't have time to ponder all that right now. Cooper's grip on his neck sets him into a primal need--survive. So one hand closes down around the older vampire's wrist, pressing into the bones at the base of his thumb. Either he lets go, or he snaps the bones with the pressure, eventually...either outcome is fine by Liam.

"I--islington?" He wheezes out the word, and bares his fangs in a harsh snarl. "Never heard of y'. Now let...go."

Cooper keeps pressing down, heedless of the pain beginning to blossom in his wrist. "Not likel--ARGH!" There's a sickening snap as the bones in his wrist are crushed under Liam's strength. He pulls back, cradling his right hand close up to his chest. That's the second time this week he's ended up with someone hurting his dominant hand. First a burn and now this. At this rate, he's going to have to become ambidextrous.

He glares balefully at Liam. Oh, it is on. He can't keep his mouth shut, which should give Liam sufficient time to recover. "Islington's the most powerful nest in London." He doesn't try to threaten the other vampire with retribution from the nest. He's going to get through this under his own power or not at all.

He coughs as he's released, mostly out of old reflex than any actual need to breathe, and levels an equally unimpressed glare at Cooper.

"And they send a shit like you as a fuckin' welcome wagon? Really scrapin' the fuckin' barrel there, aren't they..."

He takes quick stock of the alley--wall behind him, skips out, no open windows...it was barely wide enough for the two of them abreast. He really could pick 'em, couldn't he? At least he'd braided his hair today.

"Some nest, sendin' round a tory to scare the young biters. " Liam grins, vicious and mocking, deliberately baiting Cooper into an attack.

"Pogue mo thoin."

Cooper doesn't respond with any sort of banter. If a fight is what he wants, the older vampire will gladly give him one. He just launches himself at Liam, seeking to tackle the younger vampire to the ground. They both land with a hard Thump!

"Tory this, you little shit!" Using his left hand, he aims a punch at Liam's smug face.

The punch lands, and he hisses, because that just broke his nose. Unfortunately for Cooper, that only serves to piss Liam off more, and he jabs his knee up into the older vampire's stomach, right before headbutting him with all the power he can manage.

"Y-you call that a punch?" Taunts work better then you don't have to spit out the blood streaming into your mouth, Liam. "My fuckin' grandmother punched harder than that, y'great bleedin' twat."

The wind is knocked out of Cooper and he sees stars as he rolls off of Liam. Nobody wins with a headbutt. He lies there as he tries to shake off the pain, aiming a kick at Liam that has no real power behind it.

"What an original thought. It must be tough t'find them past all the idiocy takin' up space in your brain." He eyes Liam's braid, considering how satisfying it will be to yank on that thing and slam his head into the wall until he has no face left. He just needs to get up first. Right. That little detail.

Fight like the night (OTA)

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