undergrounds | wake up

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wake up

(1)

Kyle was new to the area. Hell, he was new to the country. As easy as it was to pick up the basics - public transit, prices, slang - he was having a harder time learning the small and intertwining streets in his neighborhood. He felt almost constantly lost, which made him almost constantly anxious about knowing his exits and whether he would ever find his damn AWOL C.O. he'd come to find in the first place.

It's one such night, disoriented on the way back to his shared flat from a quiet drink at a pub, that he stumbles into something he thought he left behind. Kyle knows what he's looking at the moment he sees it. The vampire feeding on the teenage boy who seems near unconsciousness.

"Hey!" He yells without thinking, waving his arms as if trying to chase a coyote off from a stray stash of food. The vampire, in a stroke of luck for Kyle or perhaps to keep his face hidden, decides to take off rather than engage in a conflict, dropping the now passed out boy into the street. Kyle runs over, ripping off his shirt to apply pressure to the wound on the kid's neck, then looking around for someone - anyone - nearby. "Hey, I could use some help here."

(2)

Post traumatic stress is never an easy thing. Although Kyle never receives full on hallucinations like a couple of his brothers had struggled with, the traumas continue to sneak up on him occasionally, clouding his judgment and ratcheting his anxiety into high gear. This time, it's in the middle of his run. He's not even sure if it was a scent or a sound that set him off. Maybe the combination. Whatever it is, it forces him to stop and focus, to breathe through it.

He takes a seat on the nearby bench, legs shoulder-width apart, forearms on his knees, eyes closed, head down to hide his face. His mandated counselor told him it was the most efficient breathing position. Now he uses it to relax, to try to force the body working against him to calm down and get back to the present with him. And he probably looks troubled, if not a little crazy, to the passersby, but that's rarely been a concern for him.

(3)

Vampires are real. Kyle learned about that some time ago, when Cooper came to his hospital room and gave him a reason to live and fight through the Fever. He'd been trained in that specialty, hunting, and it had been most of his tour in South Africa. What unnerved him was learning that they were everywhere. The problem wasn't contained to an area, as he'd been lead to believe, but the creatures sprawled in various corners of the world, thriving on the suffering and death of humans. So, yeah, he took it upon himself to do something about it.

Kyle has a split lip, a couple seriously bruised ribs, a swollen and bruised cheek, and some bloody scratches on both an arm and his neck from the fight. But you should see the other guy. The vampire lays dead on the ground, a broken pool cue shoved through his heart. All things considered, Kyle feels like he got off pretty well.

To the casual observer, it looks like a bar room brawl gone bad. Which is why, when he hears someone behind him, Kyle tenses and silently curses in his mind. The soldier lifts his hands to either side of him in a gesture of surrender, showing he's unarmed. "It's not what it looks like."

(4)

Hoping to settle in faster than the average, Kyle's out running errands throughout the day. He's picking up some new clothes, having arrived with only his backpack's worth of stuff, and groceries for the apartment. At the same time, he pops in to occasional shops to apply for jobs. Sweeper, clerk. Anything with decent pay at a local joint who will accept an American with a military background in a questionable economy.

[Feel free to bump into him shopping, or be in a shop when he asks for work, or anywhere in between. Fairly open.]

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Alex is coming back from grocery shopping. She's still bad at it - any adult going through her bag would probably bite her head off for the massive pack of marshmallows she got instead of remembering to buy bread - but at least this time she made a list. It's sitting uselessly on the kitchen counter in her apartment, but it's a step in the right direction. It's a nice day and she's got nowhere to be, so she ends up sitting on a bench eating a sandwich. It's still weird, having nowhere to be and enough money to afford a sandwich, but despite the novelty of it, she's kind of bored. She wishes she did have somewhere to be.

When some guy practically throws himself at the bench, paying no attention to the fact that she's already taking up more than half of it, her immediate response is to snarl, "Hey!"

He's still ignoring her, and it only takes her a moment to realize he's having a panic attack. She glances around, making sure he's alone before saying, "Hey," again, quieter this time. She drops the half-finished sandwich into her bag, then, very tentatively, bracing for him to lash out at her, puts a hand on his shoulder.

Kyle doesn't hear her exactly. There's white noise that enters his consciousness as something he should be aware of, something his brain marks as worthy of note after he handles the more pressing matter at hand, but that's all. He just needs a minute to focus, that's all. Breathe in, breathe out. Easy. That is, until her hand touches his shoulder.

Without thought, in a flash, his opposite hand seizes her wrist, pulling her arm away from him and his other hand tenses as if ready to spring into action. An automated response. Kyle releases her within the second it takes to even react and pulls both his hands back to his chest, open palmed, looking at her with an apologetic smile completely incongruous with the anxiety of a moment before.

"Sorry! I'm sorry. You surprised me," he offers with his American accent, "Is your wrist okay?"

Alex reacts quickly enough to grab the hand on her wrist, but lets go as soon as he does and pulls her hands back too, keeping them where he can see them. She's had episodes like that, but she's never been violent during them. And she doesn't know this guy. She has no idea how he'll react to anything she does.

"Yeah, fine." A human might have been a little bruised, but any slight injury he might have done her has already healed. She frowns, and demands, "Are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He chuckles for emphasis, never one to be to down or serious unless the situation demands it. And not always even then. "Sometimes I get caught up in my, uh, meditation, of sorts. Breathing exercises."

He lifts a hand to casually demonstrate: breathe in, breathe out. It's infinitely easier for Kyle to push away all the potential bad thoughts and remain in the present when he's talking to someone. Especially an attractive girl who's roughly his age. Flashing her a charming smile, he glances at her bag. "Sorry to interrupt your lunch. Most important meal of the day."

He knows that's not the saying. The point is for her to correct him, a red herring to distract her from the panic he was enduring a moment before.

"Uh huh." She won't press if he doesn't want to talk about it - she definitely wouldn't want to talk about it - but she knows a panic attack when she sees one. He wasn't just caught up in breathing exercises, he's got the same problem she's been told she has, that post-traumatic thing. Which makes her curious.

Alex isn't out to make new friends. So far, she's even kept her distance from the other members of the pack. But right now she's bored, and whether she likes to admit it or not, she's a little bit lonely. This guy is nice so far, and he could be kind of interesting, so she decides to keep talking to him instead of walking away.

"Isn't that breakfast?" She pulls out what's left of her sandwich. "I'd offer you some, but, uh." There's no milk or juice in the bag. She forgot to buy anything to drink. "I think I have to go back to the store."

He's grateful that she either doesn't recognize what it is or chooses to let it go. Although not entirely sure which it is, he's pretty sure it doesn't actually matter if the end result is the same. Kyle maintains his smile at her comments, finding it easier and easier to relax and be his charming self with the distraction she provides.

"One of the two," he agrees. Then he glances at her grocery bag. "You forget something?"

Alex doesn't quite manage a smile, but her expression softens as he relaxes. While part of her is still a little tense, always expecting some kind of attack, she starts to relax herself.

"Yeah, a few things." She grimaces. "I'm the worst at shopping."

"Let me come with you," he replies practically before she's even finished speaking. There are a million reasons that helping her to pick out some decent food is a good idea and very, very few - if any - reasons not to. Unless she says no, of course. Kyle's an extrovert and a flirt, but he's not a stalker and doesn't like pressing most people on most things.

"I could use some groceries too. You get what you need and I can say sorry for grabbing you."

Alex's eyes drift away from him and her face falls. This guy seems nice, and she is kind of intrigued by his breakdown, but she doesn't know him. Grocery shopping seems fairly harmless, though, and she's trying to blend in and seem normal. It might arouse suspicion to say no. On the other hand, it might arouse more suspicion to say yes. Then again, maybe going shopping with somebody else would take the drudgery out of it.

"Sure," she says after a pause, looking at him again and mustering up a small smile.

The bag says Sainsbury's on it, so she can't exactly lie about where she's been. But she points to a different one, in the opposite direction of the one she usually goes to. It's a bit of a longer walk, but a few more blocks are worth it if it makes it harder for this guy to track her down later. "The store's a couple blocks that way."

And that's when she remembers that neither of them have introduced themselves yet. "I'm Alex, by the way."

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