John Cooper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
emotioneater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-07-08 02:54 pm
emotioneater) wrote in undergrounds2015-07-08 02:54 pm
Entry tags:
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
Want something different? We can do it!
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
Want something different? We can do it!
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"Tory this, you little shit!" Using his left hand, he aims a punch at Liam's smug face.
no subject
"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."
no subject
"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.