A/N: This is my entry for Reverb 2017, which you can find on tumblr. I was super fortunate to work with Peregr1ne (who you can find on tumblr and whose art I will link on my profile page when he posts it); Rogha (also on tumblr and FFN) wrote another fic based on the art! And with that, happy reading~


From her table perched on the border of the dance floor, Maka watches as the Grim Reaper carefully sashays around two werewolves making out in the middle of the floor. She takes a sip from her drink, pokes away the bloody eyeball bobbing up and down unblinkingly against her lips, and listens as the music transitions into an overly synthesized version of the Monster Mash.

Death Dive is a Frankenstein's monster of every bad horror movie trope Maka has ever seen and then some; from the cheesy death screams and overuse of strobe lights at the entrance of club to the fact that there is no wall she has seen so far that isn't decorated with some form of scientifically inaccurate blood splatter, the club clearly had not just taken its Halloween theme and beat it to death but had ran it straight into the grave, even by Death City's standards. Though the club's patrons don't seem to be complaining-the werewolves are still glued at the lips and she does have to admit it is something of a feat to be able to sway in perfect time to the beat of the music in suits like those (although she couldn't make out the gleam of any zipper even with the glow of the giant disco balls overhead.)

The Grim Reaper disappears into a small horde of zombies as a voice too close to Maka's ear murmurs, "Wanna neck, baby?"

The vampire standing next to her grins smugly as she starts. Maka eyes him scornfully-it's hard to make out much in the semi-darkness of the seating area but she spies plastic fangs perched lopsidedly on the man's teeth, a cloak of cheap stretchy material that reeks of cologne, and slicked back hair that nearly gleams with the amount of gel holding it in place.

She barely resists the urge to laugh in his face-she's been hit on by too many supernatural creatures tonight to be fazed. "Sorry, I have a stake kink."

The vampire doesn't answer but his smile grows wider. Turning back in her seat, Maka picks up the pen next to her notepad. "I'd also consider finding better pick up lines."

It takes a moment of staring down at the page, filled with half-thoughts and scribbled-out ideas, for her to realize a presence still weighs heavily to her side.

Scowling, Maka glares up to empty air. A frown twists her mouth as she scans the area around her but the vampire is nowhere to be seen. After another moment of searching, she shrugs and returns to contemplating the notes in front of her; so far, her best ideas comprise of a review of the club (unoriginal, Kim would throw the article back at her in a heartbeat) or a parody interview with a vampire (tempting for the title though finding said vampire who isn't creepy or completely wasted is proving to be a challenge.)

Putting her pen down, Maka rubs her temples as she thinks of her deadline to Kim in the morning and bites back a sigh. When she accepted her job as the writer for the lifestyle and entertainment column of the Daily Death, she had envisioned creating a column that would challenge and expand the tastes of her readers but apparently the readership of the Daily Death did not consider a thematic dissection of Pride and Prejudice as entertainment.

But it was the debacle with her critique of Dante's Inferno, of which many Death City residents still ascribed as truth to the point that one reader had picked the written equivalent of a screaming match, that broke the skeleton's back. Maka's suggestion to embark on their own personal vacation to the rings of hell probably would have warranted her immediate dismissal in any other place, but in Death City, it resulted in the biggest spike in readership and a debate among readers over which circle was best to visit. The headache the whole experience caused finally pushed Maka into accepting her co-editor Jackie's suggestion to go for something slightly more modern and lighthearted but it had been a fatal mistake in asking what exactly she should do while Kim, their boss, was in the room.

Which was why Maka found herself here, on a Wednesday night, watching Death City residents in brightly colored spandex and too realistic costumes that looked like they were extracted from the bowels of the internet celebrate Halloween in January.

Picking up her pen again, she taps it against the tabletop. Her college roommate, Patti, who also worked at Death City Tribune as a photographer, had a sister who worked at Death Dive as a bartender and pulled strings to get them in as soon as the club opened, which Maka hadn't thought would be a problem until she saw the line curling around the length of the building.

That was also when she found out about Death Dive's costume requirement, every single person in line dressed as some kind of supernatural creature. Patti, in her biblically accurate angel outfit with eight pairs of glowing wings fanning out over her head, had been the most impressive and used the extra materials in her car to transform Maka into a more commercially accepted version of an angel though it had garnered a skeptical look from the zombie bouncer as he let the two into the club.

Maka's makeshift halo gently rains down in a haze of edible glitter as she tugs it off and tosses it on the table, looking back to the dance floor where the horde of zombies has taken over. In the background, the Monster Mash has switched back into overly remixed dubstep that pulses in her ears and throbs in her bones with a relentless pounding, which makes it a slight miracle that she hears Patti call her name before she feels a hand squeeze her shoulder.

Maka gets hit with a faceful of feathers as Patti slides into the seat next to her, drink in hand. "Having fun?" she chirps.

"That's subjective."

The eight pairs of wings attached to the back of Patti's costume quiver as she takes a sip of her drink. "Are you subjectively having fun?"

Snorting, Maka finishes off her drink. "I'm having something." If she wasn't running on a week of little to no sleep, she might have joined Patti on the dance floor but there's been something in her dreams that keeps waking her up and it hasn't gone away no matter how much meditation music she plays before bed. "The fursuits I've seen are impressive."

"Expensive at least." Patti snags the notepad from under Maka's hand. "Ten ways to establish tongue dominance," she reads aloud. "Sounds like plenty fun to me."

"It's that or speculating how many people in Death City have a monster kink," Maka says as she leans forward and snatches the notepad back.

"Hey," Patti complains, pursing her lips in a pout. "What was that about Halloween cult? I've never heard of that."

"Half of the people in here think they're descendants of the town witch that got burned at the stake two hundred years ago, Patti."

"So do you," she points out.

"I have the family tree to prove it," Maka counters, stuffing the notepad into her bag. "And I don't believe she was actually a witch."

"Even after growing up in a place like Death City?"

"Especially then." Maka casts a look towards the dance floor where the zombies have spread their takeover to the DJ box and glances back at Patti when she doesn't reply. "Do you?"

One of the rays from the lights hanging above the dance floor illuminates Patti's face temporarily; the usual airy cheeriness on her face is replaced by an expression that Maka can't read. Then, it disappears and Patti shrugs. "I believe what I see."

It's not an answer but Maka doesn't press it. She checks her phone. "Well, what I see is that it's nearly eleven-thirty and if I want to get this article to Kim before she gets into her office tomorrow, I'd better get going."

"The night is only starting," Patti protests.

"I told you I would become a cat lady before twenty five." Maka rises, shaking out the exhaustion from her muscles. "The night's usually ended for me and Blair by now."

"You need to live a little." Patti's wings slap Maka in the face again as she sticks out her tongue and nudges Maka's elbow. "You're not even going to get to see the costume contest."

"I think I've seen more than I've ever needed to by now but you can send me videos of the best ones." Maka swings her bag over her shoulder. "When are you heading home?"

The guardedness in Patti's voice returns. "Liz got spooked after her shift last week," she answers. "So I'm going to wait till she's done for the night."

The light bounces off of the holographic brand for Death Dive on Liz's jacket as she serves a patron their drink as Maka glances towards the bar. She's met Liz a few times but the other Thompson sister was always too busy bouncing between the three jobs to pay for Patti's tuition for the two to get to know each other well. One of the few things that became apparent during the times Maka hung out with Liz was her overwhelming fear for the supernatural. Liz had kept her eyes covered for the entirety of Ghostbusters when she'd come over to Maka and Patti's dorm once

She looks back at Patti. "Let me know when you get home, okay?"

"You too." Patti drains her drink. "Want me to walk you out?"

Maka shakes her head. The exhaustion from her sudden case with insomnia is beginning to itch at her eyes and she needs to be alone before she snaps. "Stick with your sister, it's fine."

Her huff tells Maka she's not happy and she speaks before Patti can argue further. "I'm not parked too far away," she insists. "You'll have to wait in line if you leave."

"Alright." Patti envelopes her in a rib-crushing hug before releasing her and inching back to the dance floor. "But next time we do this, we're having real fun," she calls.

Maka waves in reply and heads for the exit, wincing as the canned screams blare from the hidden speakers by the doors as she leaves.

The line to Death Dive has only gotten longer and rowdier from when Maka arrived. From somewhere in the middle of the line comes the unmistakable sounds of a fight breaking out. Like blood clotting a wound, a crowd instantly forms, creating a halt in traffic. Maka grits her teeth-her car is in the same direction as the fight but as someone barely a couple inches over five feet, a fight against any kind of crowd is doomed from the start.

Biting back a sigh, she spins around and heads in the opposite direction; she spied an alleyway running alongside Death Dive earlier and she's too exhausted to care about the warnings her common sense is chiding her with.

Her stomach rumbles as she walks and she digs in her bag, pulling out one of the leftover breadsticks she saved from the restaurant she went to for dinner. She takes a bite and sighs contentedly as she turns into the alleyway. It doesn't have much light but it's enough for Maka to see the other end and she walks quickly, running through article ideas as she chews.

Maka doesn't register she's in the air until she collides into a brick wall.

A familiar voice presses against her ear as a pair of hands forces her up from the ground and wraps around her throat. Eyes, glowing and red, drill into hers. "How about joining me for a bite?"

She sputters for breath, jamming her knee up but the man from the club doesn't even flinch and grins instead. The scream in Maka's mouth dies as she sees the fangs protruding from his mouth and the blood smeared across his face.

Actual fangs connected to his mouth. Real fangs stained with blood.

The metallic scent of blood clogs her nose as he speaks again. "Is that a better pick-up line for you?"

Maka wrenches herself away, stumbling to the ground as the vampire steps back.

Behind her, the vampire laughs. "Guess not."

Vampire, it's a vampire, her mind screeches at her. I know, she screams back as she scrambles to her feet. A million thoughts fly through Maka's head as she watches the vampire watch her. Maybe vampires were like sharks and would back off when punched in the nose, her mind suggests.

The grin on the vampire's face widens and she swallows. Perhaps running was the better idea.

She's moved all of two steps before Maka feels herself get flung back on the ground, wheezing as the breath is knocked from her lungs.

Instinct takes over even as her mind screams certain death, one of her feet connecting with the vampire's stomach as the vampire bends over her and presses a hand against her throat. She goes still as his fingernails dig painfully into her skin.

The vampire runs a finger down her face with his other hand. "Now I think you'd be really fun to play with," he says, dragging his finger down to her collarbone. "But, unfortunately, I'm on a bit of a time crunch."

Anger slices through Maka's fear; she plunges her hand into her purse, somehow still on her arm, and seizes the first thing that her hand touches and slams it squarely in the vampire's face, fingers pushing against the flesh underneath his eyes.

An enraged scream claws at her ears for a moment. "You bitch!"

Her head cracks against the pavement and darkness swallows her vision momentarily as the weight on top of her vanishes.

Paralyzed, Maka coughs, gasping for breath. In the back of her mind, she braces herself for the vampire's return but she can register nothing but the dull thud of the club's music and the throbbing ache in her head even after her breath slows and her heart quiets.

As shock begins to release its hold on her, she lifts her arm to see what had warded away the vampire.

Maka stares blankly at the breadstick in her hands before recognizing it for what it is.

Garlic bread.

For another few seconds, she continues to stare at the breadstick. Then, a tiny giggle bubbles up from her mouth. Another laugh, wild and breathless, follows, one after the other, until her body is shaking with laughter.

She laughs until her throat begins to ache and then she pushes herself into a sitting position, hiccuping and wiping at her eyes. "Holy shit."

Pain pricking up and down Maka's back cuts through the haze in her head; in her mind, she sees again the flash of fangs and feels the sensation of hands around her neck dance across her skin as the vampire's words crawl in her ears.

The last of the laughter falling from Maka's lips disappears.

"Shit."