I'm pickin up good vibrations (OPEN)

[whatmatters]

It was a fairly bright night, the full moon of the second waning at a slow pace and the remaining glow casting about the city streets. All things considered, it was a fairly pleasant evening and the sounds of late night pub activities wafted through the air as if to pointedly suggest that nothing was amiss. Ringer didn't believe in that false serenity and the sight a couple strolling arm-in-arm somewhere down the road annoyed her a little. It was that ignorance that she was trying to protect. Still, she couldn't help the slight envy at having her own normality stripped away from her years ago.

She wandered Lewisham and Greenwich mainly, knowing the areas were hot spots for activity and wanting to stretch her muscles. There were silver bullets in the magazine of her Sig Sauer, tucked safely away in its shoulder holster beneath her jacket. There were a couple wooden bolts in her back pocket, a knife in her combat boots, and a roll of gauze in the inside pocket of her coat. She liked to be prepared.

A.

Ringer was distracted by the soft glow of a lantern outside a picturesque home as she rounded onto the next street, nearly - or literally - running smack into whoever might be coming the other way. She immediately withdrew and scrambled to regain her bearings, offering an apologetic expression in the hopes it might be some simple Londoner who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?"

B.

There was a noise not far away, the next street over, and Ringer wasted no time in seeking it out. Perhaps it was simply a cat jumping on a trash can, but it was as likely some asshole monster causing trouble. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Whatever the case, she drew her 9mmm and held it down at her side, mostly concealing it to the casual observer as she came up on the area. One wrong move and the source of the noise might find the barrel facing in their direction.

C.

[Anything else! Feel free to write a prompt or message me with ideas.]

Comments

A

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji's bag didn't so much drop as explode as it hit the street. Welp. Some of the package stuff looked like it'd be all right, but he winced as he saw the state of the eggs. Most of them had remained in their clear plastic carton, but several of the shells were clearly cracked open and just getting the remaining groceries back was going to be. An adventure.

"I'm okay, but I think I'm gonna need new plans for breakfast tomorrow."

[whatmatters]

Ringer's brain immediately caught up with what was going and she began collecting the runaway food. She was both embarrassed at having crashed into him and frustrated with herself for being so careless. At least he seemed to be taking it well, for which she was remarkably grateful at this particular moment.

"I can give you money to replace what I ruined," she offered lightly. Except that she wasn't sure she actually had the notes on her. "Or buy you more, if you want to walk back to the store.. Assuming they're still open."

She offered over the things she'd collected and glanced at her watch before moving to grab a couple stray pieces.

[detectiveofthewest]

"Well, we could check, but it's a bit late. Not sure they're still gonna be open, yeah?" He did appreciate the help, but he didn't really have a bag any more to put the stray items in. So he simply shoved a small item or two in his jacket pockets and started piling the rest up on the side.

Say, wasn't this the same girl he'd run into earlier? If only he still had those tissues, he could at least wipe at some of the mess...

The ingredients weren't just things you could pick up at any corner store, either. Heiji, homesick, had been planning on a few dishes from home. He picked a broken package of miso up off the pavement and looked mildly depressed. "I shoulda been lookin' out a little more myself. You okay?"

[whatmatters]

"I'm fine," she confirmed, holding a small bundle of items under her left arm. "I can help you carry these home and replace the broken items tomorrow."

He looked roughly around her age and Ringer vaguely considered the possibility of her offer sounding like flirting, but she quickly dismissed it. She was just trying to set things right with a guy who seemed friendly and most likely human and knew that not everyone was as set financially as she was. He was more than welcome to decline and save her the trouble.

[detectiveofthewest]

"Yeah? That'd actually help a lot. Could you just pick up the ones that're still dry? I'm gooey already, anyway, so I'll get the rest." And indeed, once he dropped the mess that was the former egg carton into a wastebasket, he did his best to shove the rest in his arms.

"I'm headin' a couple blocks down, if that's okay. Oh yeah, I'm Heiji."

[whatmatters]

She nodded and picked up the remainder of the items, managing to heap them all into her left arm. It enabled her to keep her right hand free, just in case. Ringer glanced at his outfit, also not in the best of shape, and frowned at the sight. She could offer to dry clean the outfit too, but that seemed excessive somehow. Instead, she nodded again to acknowledge the distance.

At his name, she hesitated a split second as to whether to return with her own normal, student name or the nickname she'd been given by the Hillingdon Clan. The latter won out. "Ringer. I'm sorry about your clothes too."

[detectiveofthewest]

"Aww, don't worry about it," said Heiji. He would have waved a hand if he had one free. "It's every other day someone spills somethin' on me at the cafe. At least this time it wasn't hot coffee."

And also at least he didn't have to try and clean it out of his fur. He started off in the direction of his destination. "I got a friend really likes food; that's why I was plannin' on making him a couple dishes. You could always go to a restaurant, but it ain't the same as something you make yourself."

[whatmatters]

"You work at a cafe?" Was that an after-school job? Had she misjudged his age? It was possible he'd left academia. He didn't exactly seem the type to pass on university though, so she really had no idea. Ringer tried to remind herself not to over think everything. It rarely worked.

At the latter, she looked vaguely sheepish and cast her gaze elsewhere. "I can't cook much. I taught myself and I was never very good."

[detectiveofthewest]

"Yeah, part-time! It's nice; I get to meet all kinds of people there. Actually, we got a new waiter the other day and he's a total riot."

Heiji blinked in surprise for a moment before his expression turned to one of mild dismay. "Really? That ain't good. I mean, I guess you can still get along without knowing how to cook that much, 'specially with all the convenience stores. But everyone should know some."

He resumed looking forward, smiling to himself as if he was remembering something that was not walking home covered with egg whites. "That's one of the things I miss about home. My mom's a great cook, way better than me. Plus we always used to have friends over or visit other folks. Here's not bad, either, though."

B

[emotioneater]

Cooper was crouching next to a body, his fingers brushed up against the unfortunate victim's face. The corpse was still warm, his throat brutally torn out. Damn. He'd been late again. Somewhere around here was a newborn vampire and his attacks were starting to become more public. If this kept up, someone was sure to notice, and Cooper would've bet one of his motorcycles that someone was going to be a hunter.

He was so focused on the body that he failed to catch Ringer's scent until she was right on top of him. He looked up at her with a surprised expression on his face. "Uh....this isn't what it looks like."

[whatmatters]

Ringer moved quickly and quietly to close as much of the distance between them as she dared, pulling to a stop a meter or two away and leveling her gun to meet him. She frowned at him, looking at the ruined body below him and then back to him. Something in the back of her mind registered as the scene not being quite so straight forward as it looked. She dismissed it for the moment to focus on the threat before her.

"Then what is it?" She asked evenly. As much as Ringer hated the monsters who threatened humanity, she was reasonable, intelligent, and had spent a lifetime burying her anger and keeping in controlled. Even as adrenaline poured into her system and her fear intensified, she held her weapon perfectly steady and met his gaze without hesitation.

[emotioneater]

Cooper got up slowly so that Ringer didn't get the wrong idea. His hands were held up to show he was unarmed. He was staring straight at the gun, trying to read the face holding it. Would she shoot him? That was the million-dollar question. He'd survive if she did, of course. But just because he had a healing factor didn't mean it wouldn't hurt like hell to have a bullet hole going through his chest or head.

His eyes flicked back down to the prone form at his feet. This looked bad. "I didn't kill him. I just found him like this." Even to his own ears, that sounded like a pathetic excuse, straight out of the opening of every cop show he'd ever seen on television. He braced himself for the sensation of getting shot.

[whatmatters]

Her face wouldn't convey her intention mainly because Ringer had yet to decide whether or not she would shoot him. She hated when they looked around her age or younger, as he did. It always served to unnerve her slightly, a stark reminder of how the creatures enjoyed taking their prey young and powerful. The important questions were whether or not he had chosen the life and whether or not he was posed a significant threat to humanity.

"Are you a vampire?" Start simple.

Ringer faltered ever-so-slightly when it clicked what was amiss. There were no signs of blood on the guy's face, neck, or clothes. If he'd devastated the body as brutally as the wounds showed evidence of, there was no way he could already be so clean. She lowered the gun a fraction, to his waist instead of his heart, as a subtle gesture of her willingness to listen. "Is his wound treatable?"

[emotioneater]

He hesitated a brief moment, internally debating as to whether or not he should lie. The truth won out in the end by a fraction of a hair. If he answered no, there were too many questions she would start asking and none that he had a good answer for. "If I say yes, you know that gun isn't gonna do a whole lot of good. Want t'put it down now?" Hey, a vampire could dream. He smiled in a nervous way.

Cooper looked down at the body as a twinge of regret passed over his face. Too slow and now someone else had paid for it. For the sake of his conscience, he hoped the man had liked to kick puppies in his spare time. "Nope. He's at the gates of St. Peter by now. Young pup drained him dry."

[whatmatters]

"Say yes and find out," she answered evenly. Technically, he had yet to confirm what he was and Ringer was a stickler for the details. He was right it would do nothing more than hurt him and likely piss him off if she shot him, but sometimes just hurting a vampire was worth the bullet. The bastards usually deserved it and his nervousness only made her all the more suspicious.

She noticed the regret and wondered if it was genuinely for the loss or envy for whoever had made the kill. Apparently the guy knew what or who had done this, at the very least. "You're old then. What's your name and what's the name of the vampire who did this?"

[emotioneater]

"Tch. That's rude, commenting on someone's age when you've only just met them." Oh, who was he kidding? He was as old as the hills. It was more of a deflective tactic than anything else. He knew who had done it, but like hell was he going to give up a fellow vampire to a trigger-happy hunter.

"My name's Cooper. Do I get yours in return or will I get shot if I ask?" He had to give the newborn time to get away if he was still in the area. Get him away from the hunter.

[whatmatters]

Ringer nodded as she lowered her weapon, coming to hold the weapon casually in one hand at her side. It served not to give away the gun's normal location while stating she didn't intend to be a threat right now. Cooper's response confirmed both his status as a vampire and his age by confirming neither, unless that was a tactic in itself. She was so distracted with the cortisol and adrenaline in her system that she didn't even think that the other vampire might be close by.

"Ringer," she answered easily, doing surprisingly well at hiding her fear at the present situation. She was, after all, a younger and relatively unequipped hunter and he was an old vampire. The girl knew she was at a clear disadvantage and was taking a risk even by keeping the gun to the ground. "Are you going to take him to hospital or were you reveling in the kill?"

B.

[mensrea]

And when Ringer turns the corner, she will come upon a teenage boy with a lacrosse stick in hand staring at something in the distance. He has yet to notice her presence, and so continues to squint in the direction that the noise came from. Though he’s fairly sure that Derek’s territory doesn’t extend this far, he’s anxious that he’s accidentally stumbled into pack turf again. Nothing happens, however. Eventually, he slumps with relief and turns around—only to spot Ringer.

“Whoa! Hi. Uh, how long have you been standing—um, wow, please don’t shoot me.”

Stiles is not a casual observer. Having grown up intimately familiar with the Beacon Hills police force, he notices the partially concealed gun simply from the way she holds it.

“I have like, thirty quid in my back pocket. And some gum. You can have all of it. Not the lacrosse stick, though. It was a bitch to ship over to the UK. So don’t even try it.”

[whatmatters]

She has no reason to raise her gun towards him, keeping the weapon at her side as she stares on in confusion. A teenage boy with a lacrosse stick doing who knows what in the middle of the night isn't exactly normal. On the other hand, it isn't the strangest thing she's seen either - and that's without including anything supernatural.

"I was-" It surprises her almost as much when he immediately spots the gun. She slides it back into its holster and locks it into place without hesitation. Ringer offers a vaguely apologetic expression, though not particularly heartfelt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's not real. I use it to scare away criminals. I thought you might be one. A criminal."

His attachment to his lacrosse stick is almost endearing, albeit kind of stupid. "American?"

[mensrea]

The attachment to his lacrosse stick is totally stupid, but that doesn’t stop him from holding it to his chest protectively. When she offers an explanation and apology, some of the tension in his limbs unwinds gingerly. It’s way too dark for him to determine if she’s telling the truth, and even then, he’s not exactly an expert on gun models. Still, he’s willing to believe her simply because she’s a young and attractive girl. What can he say? He’s a dumbass teenage boy.

“If you thought I was a criminal, why did you approach me with a fake gun?” he asks, though it’s less accusatory and more incredulous.

[whatmatters]

Ringer's expression evens. She dips her head in acknowledgment of his question, silently admitting that he has a point. Her muscles grow in tension as his begin to loosen and she shifts unconsciously to put her weight more on the balls of her feet. She knows it's stupid to assume every person she runs into might be a threat or one of them, but she's knew enough at this that it's a greater concern to be unprepared for one than to spook the general population. A little fear might do them good.

"What kind of good samaritan would I be if I left whoever you were attacking to fend for themselves?" Her tone is so dry it's impossible to tell if the question is sincere or an attempt at humor.

[mensrea]

Dry or not, the response seems to do it for him; accepting it with a little grin, he glances over his shoulder to peer once more into the dark alley. He points the lacrosse stick in that direction, then shrugs at Ringer.

“Whatever it was, it came from over there. I thought it might be…uh, a criminal too, I guess? I wasn’t sure if I was about to get mugged.”

Or have his blood sucked outta him, but he doesn’t go blurting that out.

[whatmatters]

Ringer looks from the lacrosse stick to the guy, to the darkness beyond, and back again. He's questioning her use of an allegedly fake gun and he's running around with sporting equipment. She moves forward to close some of the distance between them, offering her left hand in greeting in order to keep her right free. "My name's Ringer."

If he's not about to kill her, then there's no harm in making allies. Or acquaintances.

"Maybe the noise was a stray dog." A werewolf. "Or some crazy person." A witch.

"Or a vampire." That one's self-explanatory. Ringer uses the same dry tone, a convenient way to cover how ridiculous she might sound if asking sincerely. Those who have no idea what she means assume she's joking and those that do can take her seriously. Or so she hopes.

[mensrea]

God, he doesn’t get what it is about people in this country and shaking hands. He’s only seventeen, for crying out loud! Who the hell shakes hands with a teenager? But he switches the lacrosse stick to his other hand in order to meet the gesture. It’s a firm, albeit brief squeeze before he’s hurriedly dropping his arm. He’d much rather just do the universally acceptable nod of acknowledgement than something so stiffly formal.

“Oh. Ha ha, yeah.” Gaze sliding askance, he rubs the nape of his neck and thinks about how likely all three of those possibilities are. He’s not sure if this girl is suggesting them to test him, so he rolls with it. “Or maybe a zombie.”

[whatmatters]

"That's normally the part where you say your name," she replies as she withdraws her hand and steps back into her own personal space again.

Ringer, herself, is only nineteen, but she grew up in a private school in Oxford where manners and propriety reigned supreme. It became second nature to her, much like apologizing more than necessary. At his response, the corners of her lips fall into something that might be a frown.

"Maybe." She's disappointed by his oblivious reply, though her belief that he might not be supernatural allows her to focus on the guy as a human being instead. He's not bad looking, a bit goofy, with a strange affinity for lacrosse apparently. Interesting, if nothing else. "It looks like you have it under control, whatever it is."