Capture
Fog lay thick like a blanket over the ground. Clouds obscured the majority of the sky from view. The calls of nocturnal predators were the only sounds audible. The eerie, early spring night takes place in a small grove of oak trees which already flaunted their fresh green leaves, some of which were just unfurling, stretching out in the stagnant, humid, and rather chilly night air.
There, hidden between the thick trunks of two trees, stood a rather short man. His features were sharp in some places, and soft in others. His bright green eyes watched a little nearby town as it settled in for the night. The sun had set hours ago and the moon had made it's way nearly three quarters of the way to the western horizon. It was now in the early hours of the morning. All the families were tucked in their beds and sound asleep. The only people going to bed were the repulsive drunkards - and many of them weren't sleeping in any form of a house.
Once the town seemed to be settled, the little blonde man smirked. His pearly teeth glinted in the moonlight as his pale skin became luminescent in the same lighting. His choppy blonde hair stuck up in every direction, a small Victorian-style red hat nestled in among the blonde locks. His outfit consisted of rich and elaborate reds, black, hints of green, and accents of white.
The man began to walk silently towards the sleepy town. His stride was confident and self-assured. He walked as if he owned the world beneath him. Everything was his. The people should be bowing at his feet and begging for acknowledgement. He was that great. Nothing could stop him.
He made his way to an alley beside the only pub in the town. A rat plucked through scraps in a garbage can, cockroaches scurried along the pavement, and a strong odor of alcohol, sweat, urine, and vomit came from the narrow opening. The streetlights didn't reach into the alley, hiding the drunkards' eyes, keeping them from a grueling headache when they awoke. Either way, the man, Arthur, knew from experience that with enough alcohol to completely knock a man out, the hangover in the morning was in no way forgiving.
Arthur looked over the huddled forms of the men, trying to determine which one had more alcohol in his system than the others. He opted for the smallest of the men. As a vampire, consuming alcohol purely felt off and usually made him queazy, but if he was to drink it from the bloodstream of a human, it gave him the numbing buzz he was looking for. The day hadn't been to kind to him, and he was looking for a good drink.
As he began to make his way towards the small brunette he had selected, the scuffing of sneakers on pavement reached his ears. "Got you, vampire!" came the triumphant yell of what sounded like an American teen. The cocky tone tipped off the Brit to his age, and his accent was far too prominent. Not to mention the volume. Did the lad want them to have an angry mob of villagers on their hands? None-the-less, the words that came out of the American's mouth were worrying. He couldn't have evidence of his true nature. That was impossible. He would have known if he had a stalker. The doubt had Arthur steering away from his meal, posture stiffened ever-so-slightly, deciding to act as if he hadn't heard a word. His mouth was sealed closed tightly, despite the teen being behind him. There was never such a thing as being too cautious. Especially when a mistake could cost one his life.
"Don't try to pretend you don't know! I know what you are, monster!" For the Queen's sake, did this boy ever shut up? Or at least quiet down? Arthur wasn't too sure he could.
"I have no idea what you're blabbering about." The soft whisper of Arthur drifted to the teen's ears, a very British accent lilting his speech, making it melodic.
"Bullshit!" The American neared, bringing Arthur closer to the dead end of the alley. Oh no. It was occuring to Arthur that he was actually being trapped. There was no visible way out. This was not a good sign at all... "You know exactly what I'm talking about!" If he would just stop with the blasted yelling!
The American's loud voice cut into Arthur's chest, piercing his heart with pure fear. Arthur turned around, having reached the brick wall that signaled the end of the alley. His green eyes darted wildly around him, looking for an easy escape route. Nothing. There was only one option...
Arthur backed farther into the shadows, pressing his back against the wall, flattening himself as much as he could against the cold stone surface.
"I won't let you escape!" With the yell, the teenager - now revealed to have darker blonde hair than Arthur, glasses, and intense blue eyes set in his sun-kissed skin - lunged for Arthur. At the same time, Arthur pushed off the wall with all the strength in his lean body, running for the exit, hoping he might get lucky and completely bypass the American.
No such luck. The attacker was prepared, tackling Arthur to the ground, holding onto the small Brit tightly as he squirmed. For all his clawing a squirming, he was no match for the other man's astounding strength. He was pinned in place and after a moment, a rag soaked with chloroform was pressed over his mouth and nose, forcing his panting breaths to bring in the unwanted drug.
A proud grin stretched over the teen's lips as he whispered, for the first time that night, "Sleep."
N-No! Defiance fought inside Arthur, battling desperately for escape. He fought the effects of the drug, trying his best to move, to fight, anything. His body seemed unresponsive, making him feel like a prisoner in his own skin. His vision was blurry around the edges, nothingness closing in around him. Everything fell black, his body going lax in the other's hold, his consciousness lost.
Alfred picked up the small vampire, carrying him to his house for some... fun.