Drink. Burn. Puke.
It didn't always used to be this way. Vodka used to stay down after it's imbibed, exception being those inopportune nights where the woes of everyday life outweighed the need for sobriety. He remembers long nights of continually ingesting his clear goddess, his only refuge from reality, only to see it return while sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Nowadays, he barely overcomes the intricate burning sensation down his throat before retching, marking his drinking territory with great sporadic pink puddles.
Dieter does it for the habit, the stinging of alcohol, not for the buzz or the drunkenness anymore. If Dieter wanted to screw himself over and drop his guard, he'd drain a junkie or a drunkard. Alas, these nights aren't crafted for fools. The ones who get caught draining crack heads are the ones that end up seeing the crack of dawn.
Dieter looks up at the night sky through the thin perceptions of the alleyway. Storm clouds slowly glide over the starry backdrop, barely hiding the moon from view. Tiny droplets make their free fall to the earth in regular intervals, covering the buildings in a pearly glow. Dieter shakes the rain off the lapels of his trench coat, readjusting it for the impending rainstorm. He starts walking down to the main street, throwing the drained vodka bottle as an afterthought. The glass twirls through the air, nearly missing the drained motionless cadaver as it crashes into oblivion.
---
Lona fucked up, plain and simple. She pushed it out of mind as she pulled herself along the abandoned street, leaving behind a trail of crimson. Whatever had flashed out at her was quick, she barely had time to activate her innate powers of superhuman speed. It wasn't fast enough, something caught her leg and punctured it mid-stride. Whatever had cut her would have remained lodged in her calf, except for the fact that she was running: her own momentum managed to rip the foreign object through the remainder of her leg. All the muscles there were practically ruined, and she dropped to all fours and crawled frantically. She glanced over her shoulder... and her assailant was gone.
She tried to remember the location of the nearest manhole. She knew these streets by heart, but it's a totally different scenario when the mind is preoccupied with survival instincts. The beast inside her was near the surface, vying to get out and have revenge on the nearest moving being. These things happen when one finds themselves dragging their mangled leg behind them before sunrise. Lona loathed the sunrise, it reminds her of last year, when she was free of her accursed state. Sucking blood to live wasn't exactly her idea of a good time.
Gripping her hands around the manhole, she slid the lid off and dropped inside, neglecting to cover the opening. She descended and plopped into the sewage. The filthy murk rushed into her open wound, threatening to take residence there. Lona continually pumped blood to the open wound, in the hopes that it would heal within a matter of minutes like usual. Soon, she'd be able to walk to her communal haven, where she could describe the happenings of the night to her comrades.
The wound wasn't healing.
---
"Gabriel? You in?"
"Yes, I am in my study," Gabriel replied.
Gabriel swiveled around in his chair, fixing his eyes upon the door to his office. He was wondering when Xan would arrive from his duty. Sipping from a blood flask, he watched as Xan entered the room, swiftly closing the door upon his entry. Xan's tribal robes swished and flowed with his fluid movements as he turned to face Gabriel.
"Gabriel, they did attack this night."
"Fuck."
Gabriel turned to his laptop, one of many computers arranged around the rather small room. Stacks of printouts and folders covered whatever space his desks could offer, and plenty more stacks were arranged around the floor. Both Gabriel and Xan paid no attention to the room's disarray, as both of them spent many waking hours studying in this room. Gabriel would research using his many computers, where Xan preferred the adjoining library, full of large books with crisp pages.
"Xan, it appears that someone has been influencing employees at the First National Bank here in town," Gabriel pointed out.
Xan arranged himself so he could see the laptop screen clearer. "Isn't that one of your influential power bases?"
Gabriel nodded.
"Then the time we've been dreading is now," Xan pointed out. "If they have the audacity to attack one of your stronge---"
"Xan, they are merely taking advantage of the situation. Was I in their place, I would be doing the same thing. However, it begs the question of why their activity would present itself now."
Gabriel clicked his mouse a couple times, looking at some of the company's records. A look of confusion swept over his face.
Xan noticed immediately. "What is it?"
Gabriel shook his head and looked at the monitor screen some more. "A transaction took place this evening. Turns out that $450 from an account was taken and leaked into a corporate account. The corporate account is for one of the influential power bases that our enemies are holding. The employee that did the transaction was--," Gabriel paused.
Gabriel looked up and turned to face Xan.
"Apparently the employee who authorized the transaction was Howard Dumont, my link to First National. My ally has double-crossed me." Gabriel whispered.
Xan turned quickly, grabbing the door handle and was ready to turn it when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Careful, Xan. First I want to know who exactly coerced Dumont and why. If you eliminate him without knowing these things, then we have indeed seen the beginning of the end."
It didn't always used to be this way. Vodka used to stay down after it's imbibed, exception being those inopportune nights where the woes of everyday life outweighed the need for sobriety. He remembers long nights of continually ingesting his clear goddess, his only refuge from reality, only to see it return while sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Nowadays, he barely overcomes the intricate burning sensation down his throat before retching, marking his drinking territory with great sporadic pink puddles.
Dieter does it for the habit, the stinging of alcohol, not for the buzz or the drunkenness anymore. If Dieter wanted to screw himself over and drop his guard, he'd drain a junkie or a drunkard. Alas, these nights aren't crafted for fools. The ones who get caught draining crack heads are the ones that end up seeing the crack of dawn.
Dieter looks up at the night sky through the thin perceptions of the alleyway. Storm clouds slowly glide over the starry backdrop, barely hiding the moon from view. Tiny droplets make their free fall to the earth in regular intervals, covering the buildings in a pearly glow. Dieter shakes the rain off the lapels of his trench coat, readjusting it for the impending rainstorm. He starts walking down to the main street, throwing the drained vodka bottle as an afterthought. The glass twirls through the air, nearly missing the drained motionless cadaver as it crashes into oblivion.
---
Lona fucked up, plain and simple. She pushed it out of mind as she pulled herself along the abandoned street, leaving behind a trail of crimson. Whatever had flashed out at her was quick, she barely had time to activate her innate powers of superhuman speed. It wasn't fast enough, something caught her leg and punctured it mid-stride. Whatever had cut her would have remained lodged in her calf, except for the fact that she was running: her own momentum managed to rip the foreign object through the remainder of her leg. All the muscles there were practically ruined, and she dropped to all fours and crawled frantically. She glanced over her shoulder... and her assailant was gone.
She tried to remember the location of the nearest manhole. She knew these streets by heart, but it's a totally different scenario when the mind is preoccupied with survival instincts. The beast inside her was near the surface, vying to get out and have revenge on the nearest moving being. These things happen when one finds themselves dragging their mangled leg behind them before sunrise. Lona loathed the sunrise, it reminds her of last year, when she was free of her accursed state. Sucking blood to live wasn't exactly her idea of a good time.
Gripping her hands around the manhole, she slid the lid off and dropped inside, neglecting to cover the opening. She descended and plopped into the sewage. The filthy murk rushed into her open wound, threatening to take residence there. Lona continually pumped blood to the open wound, in the hopes that it would heal within a matter of minutes like usual. Soon, she'd be able to walk to her communal haven, where she could describe the happenings of the night to her comrades.
The wound wasn't healing.
---
"Gabriel? You in?"
"Yes, I am in my study," Gabriel replied.
Gabriel swiveled around in his chair, fixing his eyes upon the door to his office. He was wondering when Xan would arrive from his duty. Sipping from a blood flask, he watched as Xan entered the room, swiftly closing the door upon his entry. Xan's tribal robes swished and flowed with his fluid movements as he turned to face Gabriel.
"Gabriel, they did attack this night."
"Fuck."
Gabriel turned to his laptop, one of many computers arranged around the rather small room. Stacks of printouts and folders covered whatever space his desks could offer, and plenty more stacks were arranged around the floor. Both Gabriel and Xan paid no attention to the room's disarray, as both of them spent many waking hours studying in this room. Gabriel would research using his many computers, where Xan preferred the adjoining library, full of large books with crisp pages.
"Xan, it appears that someone has been influencing employees at the First National Bank here in town," Gabriel pointed out.
Xan arranged himself so he could see the laptop screen clearer. "Isn't that one of your influential power bases?"
Gabriel nodded.
"Then the time we've been dreading is now," Xan pointed out. "If they have the audacity to attack one of your stronge---"
"Xan, they are merely taking advantage of the situation. Was I in their place, I would be doing the same thing. However, it begs the question of why their activity would present itself now."
Gabriel clicked his mouse a couple times, looking at some of the company's records. A look of confusion swept over his face.
Xan noticed immediately. "What is it?"
Gabriel shook his head and looked at the monitor screen some more. "A transaction took place this evening. Turns out that $450 from an account was taken and leaked into a corporate account. The corporate account is for one of the influential power bases that our enemies are holding. The employee that did the transaction was--," Gabriel paused.
Gabriel looked up and turned to face Xan.
"Apparently the employee who authorized the transaction was Howard Dumont, my link to First National. My ally has double-crossed me." Gabriel whispered.
Xan turned quickly, grabbing the door handle and was ready to turn it when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Careful, Xan. First I want to know who exactly coerced Dumont and why. If you eliminate him without knowing these things, then we have indeed seen the beginning of the end."