A/N – A vampire fanfic. ^^ This is completely AU, so some of the characters (especially Krad) will be somewhat out of character. Also, I based a lot of this on Amelia Atwater-Rhode's concept of vampires, so I don't claim to own that.
Disclaimer – I don't own DNAngel.
~*~
He jumped.
Like a shadow, he glided through the night. Clothed completely in black, not a single figure in the city knew his existence.
Finally, he stopped.
An old abandoned store stood in front of him. This was the bad part of town, where no one respectable would ever come. Robbers, murderers, anyone running from the law; they were the ones who lived here.
It was where his kind was normally forced to stay.
No one here questioned his nightly activities.
Most of them were nocturnal anyway.
No one here was missed if he lost his control.
Everyone here was hated.
Reaching out a pale slender hand, he opened the door. It creaked, a dust of cloud flying into the air.
He ignored it, stepping inside.
His starling ruby eyes scanned the room, a sadness appearing in their ageless depths. He remembered when this place was built all those years ago.
And like the rest of the world, he had watched it crumble to ruin.
He settled down in corner, not caring about the layer of dust coating the floor. An old spider web hung above his head from the cracked plaster wall.
He rested his head in his arms, a knee brought up to his chest.
His life was a lonely solitary one. He didn't care about anyone, not really. And no one really cared about him either.
Dark Mousy closed his eyes, drifting off to a world of nightmares.
~*~
Krad's eyes narrowed.
The kid whimpered, pressing himself against the wall to get as far away from Krad as possible.
"Give me your cash, kid," Krad said coldly.
"N-No…"
"I said, give it!" As if to prove his point, Krad snapped a silver pocket knife open.
The kid's eyes widened in terror. Hastily, he pulled a bunch of rumpled bills from his pocket and tossed them at Krad's feet.
Krad smirked. "Thanks again, kid." Stooping down, he scooped up the bills and then turned and walked away, leaving a trembling young teen behind.
Krad was the resident bad-boy of the town. He was loner, not belonging in the gangs people like him would usually be in.
He was seventeen and would've been a senior in high school… if not for the fact he had gotten fed up with the idiots there and dropped out.
Needless to say, his parents were less than pleased.
But they couldn't do anything. They were scared of Krad, just like everyone else was.
Krad looked down with disgust at the pathetic amount in his hand. It seemed the kid only carried around his lunch money.
Sticking the money in the back pocket of his baggy black jeans, Krad continued on.
The wind blew through his long blond hair. As usual, it was tied back in a low ponytail.
His icy blue eyes scanned the streets. They were empty, except for perhaps a few homeless bums on the corner or a straggler heading for school or work.
It was boring.
Krad didn't know how humans could go on living like this. Each and every day was the same. Nothing ever changed.
Each day he saw the same people pass. They would always walk the same, at the same time, carrying the same things.
Krad wanted to make his life interesting.
The last thing he wanted to be was normal. And if abnormal meant a life of crime, then so be it. It sure was a lot more fun than being a prissy goody-goody.
Krad loved the adrenaline rush he got from a good fight.
Currently though, things were getting boring even for him. He had pounded into the dirt practically every guy in town. Hardly anyone was willing to fight him now.
Krad turned into an alley, leaning against the dirty brick wall. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Lighting the cigarette, he held it to his lips and glanced around casually. As expected, no one was there.
A rat scurried across.
Krad's eyes narrowed at the disgusting creature. They were revolting, always digging through the trash of others in order to survive. So dependant, pathetic that they can't survive on their own.
He shook his head. Things must be pretty bad if he was getting philosophical.
He tossed the cigarette butt onto the street, grinding it into the floor with his heel. Shifting his weight back completely to his feet, Krad walked out of the alley, intent on finding entertainment elsewhere.
He walked past an old abandoned store.
Casually, he glanced at it. The building was so old. It had been there since before it was born. From the looks of it, it seemed to be at least a hundred years old.
He moved to walk on.
But noticed a figure huddled in a corner.
Krad raised an eyebrow, looking interestedly at it. Normally, he wouldn't even care, dismissing it as a typical homeless man.
But the striking violet hair caught his attention.
No normal person had hair like that, and no homeless bum would have the money to dye it.
Krad pushed open the door, having nothing better to do. Maybe the guy had some cash.
To his surprise, he had barely taken more than two steps into the room before the guy's head shot up, fixing him with an irritated glare.
Instantly, Krad was struck by the intensity of the blood-red gaze… and the unearthly beauty of the stranger. The violet hair that would look gaudy and unnatural on a normal person just accented the exotic beauty of the stranger. He had unblemished skin so light it was almost white, and the all-black clothes he wore only made him seem more pale and outer-worldly.
He was, from what Krad could tell from his sitting position, seemingly tall and slender. His looks were definitely masculine, but with a delicate beauty accentuating it.
"What do you want?" the stranger asked flatly. He got to his feet, showing Krad the full effect of his tall (though not as tall as Krad) and slender body, only flattered even more by the almost gothic/biker clothes he wore, tight leather pants and a black sleeveless tank top. A silver chain hung casually down his hip, and a black choker was around his neck.
"Didn't know why anyone would be sleeping in a dump like this," Krad answered casually. He could tell from one glance that this stranger could be potentially very dangerous.
"I have my reasons." The stranger eyed him up and down. "You're that guy aren't you? The tough-guy who's been beating up every guy on the street. Krad."
"News travels fast doesn't it?"
The stranger stepped closer, closing the distance between them to almost a foot. "I hear things." He smirked, an almost seductive smile on his face. "You seem interesting… different from those idiots."
"So do you," Krad leaned closer, peering at the stranger's face. "I've never seen you around before."
The stranger shrugged, pulling away and leaning against the dusty wall. "I prefer not to be seen."
"Oh?" Krad smiled mischievously, his gaze sweeping up the stranger's body. "Afraid you'll get jumped?"
"Yes," the stranger replied, perfect white teeth flashing in an unabashedly arrogant grin. "People like me are rare."
Krad's eyes narrowed slightly. In all his years on the street, he had learned to read people well. And behind the seeming casual tone, there was a much darker undertone.
"Who are you?" he finally asked.
The figure raised an eyebrow. "Do you normally go around asking someone their name?"
"Maybe."
The other shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I like you. You're interesting." He stepped close – very close – to Krad and then brushed his lips lightly over Krad's throat.
Krad's eyes widened fractionally.
The stranger stepped back, looking slightly amused. "My name's Dark Mousy."
"Do you do that to everyone you meet?" Krad asked dryly. He attempted to shake off the odd feeling he had at the feeling of the Dark's lips against his throat.
Dark's lips quirked in an odd sort of expression, somewhat resembling a smile. "A variation."
"It's not exactly normal you know."
"And I'm not normal."
Krad snorted. "I noticed."
Suddenly, Dark froze. Abruptly, he stood straight, and unfamiliar expression of seriousness crossing his face. "I… have to go."
"Why?" Krad asked teasingly. "I thought we were having fun."
Dark's eyes narrowed, an almost dangerous expression in them. "I'm serious."
And without a second glance walked out.
Krad stood in the now empty room, slightly stunned by Dark's abrupt exit.
His gaze narrowed.
No one walked away from him like that.
And determinedly, he ran after the quickly disappearing Dark.
~*~
Dark sprinted down the streets, well aware that the young (at least in his years) teenager he had just met was following him.
A persistent one…
Normally, he would be able to seduce the humans that stumbled upon him enough so that they would still be stunned when he left.
But night had come too early today.
Dark stretched his senses behind him. The human was still following him. That was strange. A normal human shouldn't be able to keep up with his immortal speed.
But that human wasn't exactly normal was he? Dark had heard rumors of the young fighter.
Dark hoped desperately that the human wouldn't be able to catch up. The days were passing… and as the day of the full moon came closer, so did his hunger increase.
That human was… desirable. Dark didn't know if he would be able to hold off the hunter within him if he was any nearer to him at this time of night.
Dark put on a burst of speed, digging deeper into his inner strength. He didn't want to use his powers… they were just an ugly reminder. But desperate times called for desperate actions.
The last thing Dark wanted was to take another life… either with death or immortality.
Finally, he stopped.
His senses told him the human was gone beyond what his senses to reach. It meant that he was no longer a threat.
Dark closed his eyes, atop one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city.
Where could he stay now?
The old store was out of the question, now that Krad knew he was there. It was a pity; he really did like that place.
Dark shrugged, sitting down leaning against the roof's stairwell. If he remembered correctly, the curators of this particular building didn't come up until dawn.
He would be long gone by then.
He leaned his head back against the concrete wall. One hand rose to clench against his stomach.
The hunger… it was coming.
No.
He would not hunt. He had already lasted so long against the hunger… he would not give up now. And taking one human life was more than too much.
An involuntary shudder shook him.
No. Please…
He would drink animal blood tomorrow. It kept his body… content… though barely enough.
And taking the life of a dog on the street, fated to die anyway, was far less harsh on his guilt than a human life was.
~*~
Krad was not in a good mood.
After practically a whole night of searching, he couldn't find any sign of the mysterious stranger. He didn't know why he was so persistent at this.
It was probably his pride.
No one had ever escaped him before he wanted them to.
Besides, this new stranger, Dark Mousy, fascinated him. Krad had never seen anyone even close to like him in his life.
He seemed almost… immortal. There was a pull to him that Krad had never seen in anyone else.
Danger and mystery was something that had always attracted Krad. And that stranger practically radiated it.
"Krad."
Krad turned at the source of the voice. It was that annoying reporter. Saehara. "What do you want?"
Saehara shrugged. "I heard you were going around looking for someone."
"What's it to you?"
"Thought I had something for you. I owe you for that time you gave me that lead."
A year or so ago, Krad had helped Saehara get his start as a reporter with a lead he had given him on a murder case. Of course, it hadn't been Krad's motive to help (he just hated the murderer since he was idiotic coward), but since then he and Saehara had an odd sort of partnership.
Krad would pass on any news he heard on the underground. Saehara would help Krad get rid of any annoyances with his connection to the media and the cops. And he would also turn blind eye to some of Krad's less than legal escapades.
"There were some rumors around," Saehara continued, "About a violet-haired beauty. The oddest thing was, they were spread over a period of years – centuries. I don't know if that's the one you're talking about, 'cause it would mean he's kinda old. But then again, purple hair's rare, isn't it – at least natural purple hair. Could be his son or something.
The guy was rumored to be involved in a couple of murders. 'Course, he would always disappear afterwards, so were never could pin anything on him. The police think it's some sort of hereditary thing, 'cause someone of similar appearance would be spotted many years later – in fact, this rumor began over 800 years ago. The oddest thing was, in the past 300 or so years, not much activity has been heard about him. Most people these days don't know about him, but back in the 1700s or so, he was some sort of legend."
He suddenly laughed.
"But then again, it's probably some huge legend or something. Either the guy you met was trying to imitate this legend or something or was just a punk who liked purple hair."
"Hn." Krad crossed his arms and leaned against a street pole.
Saehara looked at him curiously. "Why do you want to find this guy so bad anyway?"
Krad shrugged. "No reason."
Saehara smirked. "Thought he was a looker, eh? I never pegged you for that kind of guy."
Krad glared.
"Woah. Easy there." Saehara held out his hands in mock defense.
Krad turned and began to walk away.
"Bye to you too, Krad!" Saehara called after him sarcastically.
~*~
To be continued…
~*~
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