Sorry this took so long. Exam time kept me busy and pretty much blocked any whatsoever inspiration. Anyway, here it is, enjoy. :)
Instead of soothing clearance confusion overtakes his mind. Scud blinks up at the man who just claimed to be his master. He doesn't understand. Anton is his master. He watches as the pale lips move quickly, forming words which should probably explain his situation but Scud still tries to fight the clouds buzzing his mind.
"Hey."
The man snaps his fingers in front of Scud's face, ripping him out of his thoughts.
"You understand me?"
Scud swallows against the sudden jump of his heart. He reacts like he has been told the past months - "Whatever you do, don't disobey!" - and nods, a quick jerk of his head which sends the room around him rotating.
"Good."
A pair of cold eyes fixes him in place and looks him over with an expression which Scud would describe as a familiar mixture of disgust and primal interest.
"How are you feeling?"
Scud tears his gaze from the frowning face. He stares at the parts of his body not covered by a thin white blanket. His arms are spotted by small round band-aids, their clean white giving only a small contrast to Scud's own pale skin. He takes a breath, looks up and nods again.
It seems to be the reaction the man waited for. He nods in return and throws a bundle into Scud's lap.
"Put these on and then get up."
Without another word of explanation he turns around and leaves Scud alone. He tugs at the bundle in his lap and unfolds a pair of barely worn jeans as well as a simple black shirt. He remembers faintly that his taste in clothing had been a different one, but since some time Scud is happy with any kind of fabric covering his skin from hungry looks.
He slips out of the strange mechanic bed. Carefully, as his legs give a warning ache when he tries to hold his weight up with them. With weak arms he strides on the clothes, wincing when the skin on his stomach strains painfully.
His memory is clouded and maybe he should be glad for that, but it does nothing to clear the situation he somehow stumbled into. A part of him would laugh about this, about him because it is just so typical for him. Poor Scud, running from one disaster into the next. But this part had fallen silent a long time ago.
He follows his new master into an angled living room. Most of the walls are glass, showing what lies behind. The furniture isn't as bad as Anton's had been but of course everything about it speaks Vampire.
Scud stops in front of a large leather couch and waits. His master paces around the room, talking to a person on the other end of his small headset. Scud doesn't understand a word. It's this vampire language again, so whatever the reason for this certain call is, it means trouble for someone.
With an annoyed hiss the man tears the headset off and throws it across the room. Then his attention returns to Scud. The human tries not to flinch when those hard eyes settle on him. Suddenly his master looks annoyed, downright nerve-wrecked and he can't but feel that this is his fault.
"What are you staring at?" the man snarls.
Scud's gaze drops down to the floor. He doesn't want to anger him, not until he knows him well enough to asses his reactions.
He dares a quick glance when the man looks him over, nodding his head as in thought.
"You'll need clothes", he says, more to himself than to Scud. "My assistant will be here within a few minutes. Try to be a good pet and don't make it difficult for her."
When Scud doesn't reply he growls in annoyance.
"Hey", he barks, shaking the pet to attention. "Have you swallowed your damn tongue?"
"No, I-", Scud says and coughs. His voice is all raspy from not having been used the past days. "I'm sorry. I understand, Master."
He looks up at the vampire and this time he tries to withstand the hard stare he's confronted with.
The man snorts. "Don't call me that", he mumbles and turns around, reaching for a heavy black coat on the table in front of him. "Call me... You know what, don't call me anything. Just don't speak at all until I ask you to. Got that?"
"Yes", Scud hurries to answer. He watches him smoothly glide into the dark fabric. He wonders why most vampires are fascinated by the color. If he was a vampire he would already be fed up with the dark of the night. Maybe it's some primal instinct, like an adaption to the surroundings to show their belonging to a group...
"...will be back by sunrise."
Scud jumps when the sound of a heavy door being rather roughly slammed shut shakes him from his daydreaming.
He needs to stop doing that. At Anton's mansion it had been rather easy to just space out and let everything happen. He was never asked anything. When someone wanted him he took him, easy like that. He wonders if his new master just didn't try to drain him yet because he is still wounded or if there is any other reason he can't think off.
Suddenly he realizes that he's alone and his new master didn't tell him what to do. He said something about an assistant dropping by.
"I'll just wait then", Scud mumbles to himself, the sound getting lost in the wide empty room.
xXxXx
The last time Scud talked to another human being had been before his time as a pet. At least when it's about a full on conversation, or whatever someone would call this.
The assistant his master talked about turns out to be a young blonde familiar which introduces herself as Petty Bloom. A fitting name for her but not for the business she works in. Her whole appearance seems a little unfitting. The black dress with the blood red high-heels looks forced. Scud can picture her better in a wide t-shirt and some pair of worn jeans.
The most pleasant thing about her short visit in the apartment is the way she treats him, like he is an actual person. They don't really chat but she doesn't ignore him either. Scud thinks that she probably isn't allowed to talk to him more than necessary, but he's glad about any spare conversation. Better than the uncomfortable silence of his master's apartment.
"This should fit", Petty mumbles and holds a striped shirt against his chest to check the size. "When Mr Frost told me to get you some clothes I thought about something black and blue. I would have preferred something else of course but my opinion is of no question here."
She gives him a quick look to see his reaction. Scud remains silent, just smiles weakly to reassure her. He wouldn't peach on her. Petty treats him nice, different than the rest of the whole world.
Just when she puts the shirt back into the large shopping bag she brought with her Scud's stomach makes a loud growl. She gives him a compassionate look.
"There is food in the fridge but wait until Mr Frost is back. He is a man of more honor than most of his kind, he won't let you starve. I'm sure", she adds. Scud nods but the young woman already hurries over to the large white bedroom with the bag in her small manicured hands.
xXxXx
Deacon returns before sunset. Sometimes he dares to wait in front of the door, catching the first shy beams of sunlight before they get too dangerous for his vampiric essence. But today he is too worn out by this world to pay any attention to her beauty. The issue with Anton has just worsen the situation and even though the bastard is powerless Deacon knows he will try to come back to bite him. He will try to erase any evidence, along with Deacon and his companions.
With a wholehearted sigh he pushes the door open, endures the modern music of the elevator until he stands in front of the heavy metal door to his apartment. He stares at it's smooth surface as slowly the realization sinks in that it's not only his home anymore. It is his home but now it's disturbed by another presence.
That damn pet.
He can't stand here like that forever. Sooner or later he has to face his decision. With a deliberate push he opens the door. His decision is quickly discovered, scrambling to his feet as he sees Deacon enter. The light turns on and illuminates the room, the slightly bent figure of the pet sending strange shadows to the floor. He blinks against the sudden light. Deacon looks him over and sees that he still wears the clothes he had given him earlier.
"Hasn't Petty been here?" he asks. The boy nods.
"Yes", he says, his voice only a low mumble. Deacon steps further into the apartment, letting the heavy door behind him fall shut. He shrugs the black coat off with a small sigh. It smells like pure bloods and false friends, something Deacon definitely has too many of.
"What are you doing here then?"
When the pet doesn't reply he turns around. The boy hasn't moved, still stands frozen in place and looks at Deacon with an unreadable expression. He feels annoyance tug at his guts and resists the urge to growl at the slow reactions of the human.
"You're allowed to speak now", he says, carefully, as if the pet is slow on the uptake – which he probably is, as he gets more and more the impression. The blood loss must have left it's marks.
"I've waited for you", the pet says. He sounds so undisturbed, like this is the most normal thing to do. Remaining on the same spot someone left you to wait for the person's return. Like some fucking dog. Deacon nods.
"Okay. Did she bring you new clothes? Petty, I mean", he adds when he sees confusion light up between dirty brown strands. The pet nods but he doesn't look at him while doing so. Deacon decides this is the most awkward conversation he ever had.
"Good. Tomorrow you will get your mark, since you're mine now you will need a new one. I'll let you decide the place but have that decided by tomorrow."
Again the boy nods. Deacon frowns but realizes he is too tired to care about this behavior right now. With a sigh he starts to head for his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt on the way.
It is just when he feels someone follow him that he turns around. The pet stands some feet away, coming to a halt when Deacon looks him over with a puzzled expression.
"What are you doing?" he asks and doesn't try to hide the suspicion swinging in his voice.
The boy keens, a small sound tripping from his lips and he shrugs a little. "You don't want to... you know?"
When Deacon doesn't reply, just stares at him incomprehensibly, the pet starts to tug at the hemline of his shirt. Finally the penny drops.
"Oh, no", Deacon says and shakes his head. "I'm too tired and- No, just to get this clear: I don't sleep with humans and especially not with pets. Who knows whose venom runs through your veins, boy, that's disgusting. Just, go back and get the fuck to sleep."
The pet nods and with a small move straightens his shirt again. Deacon watches him tiptoe back into the living room. He almost shakes his head in disbelief as he hadn't thought the human would be that brainwashed. He had heard of pets who lost their own mind and basically turned into robots, mechanically following anything their masters said but he had never seen that himself. In most cases Deacon tries his best to avoid those milieus.
When he opens the wide door to his bedroom the thought hits him that maybe he had signed up for something he never really wanted.
xXxXx
Scud is woken by a feet shoving his side.
"Pet", he hears his master call. "Wake up, pet."
His eyes fly open and his senses jump awake within a second, one of the things he had learned in the orphanage. This little trick had saved his sorry ass too many times.
With a small grunt he pushes himself up from where he had spent the night on the floor. As he scrambles to his feet he catches the look of his master.
"Did you sleep on the floor?" he asks. If Scud wouldn't know better he'd say his master wasn't used to having a pet.
"Yes", he says and almost frowns in return. His master, Deacon is his name as Scud recalls, narrows his eyes as if he could understand the human's mind better this way. After a moment he gives up and turns around with a sigh that sounded almost like defeat.
He heads for what Scud assumes to be the kitchen. Scud follows him silently. He doesn't know this man, Deacon Frost, who seemingly took him away from his former master. He doesn't know whether he's of the same sick kind as Anton or if Deacon has different plans for him. Right now Scud can't think of any reason why he's here and, more importantly, cared for. Anton never bandaged his wounds. The nicest thing he had ever done for Scud was to free him from the gag before he choked on his own vomit.
His stomach clenches painfully when he sees the food standing on the kitchen counter. It looks like pancakes and not just simple pancakes. Scud would never forget the delicious smell of "Ricci's self-made butter pancakes". His mother sometimes took him to the little diner for brunch when his father was out of town.
His stomach gives an audible growl and Scud clutches his bandaged skin as if he could dampen the sound somehow. Deacon who already has the headset on again gives him a strange look. The corners of his ashen lips pull visibly down as he looks the weak figure of the human over.
"Eat", he says simply and nods in the direction of the pancakes. "The man to mark you will soon be here and I don't want you to faint."
As soon as he turns around Scud hurries over to the counter and pulls the plate of food near. It had been so long since he ate something besides mandarins. He takes a bite and his eyes water a little at the familiar flavor filling his mouth. They still taste as amazing as they did twenty years ago.
Now and then he glances up at his master. He is walking through the apartment, picking up sheets on a large wooden table and all the time talking to someone on the other end of the connection. His voice is calm but there's an unmistakable growl swinging with it. Even though Deacon seems to be just as arrogant as any other vampire his temper is of a calmer nature as Anton's. Scud finds that calm and vampire don't belong in the same sentence.
He finishes his meal in a hasty way and when Deacon gives him a quick side glance Scud licks away the last remains of syrup coating his lips. So far his new master was good to him. Almost too good and it makes Scud suspicious because Deacon has no reason to treat him like an actual person. He is just a pet after all, better cattle if anything. Life taught him to accept unexpected presents but always stay cautious. It might be a trap and the ugly truth waiting behind the pretty wrapping could be the one to snap his neck and end his pity life.
The ring of a door bell shakes him out of his thoughts. Deacon opens the door without checking first, even though it could be anyone. His memory misses the details of the last days but Scud is convinced that the circumstances under which Deacon took him away from his original master couldn't have been all too peaceful. Still it seems that the vampire is not afraid of being attacked in his own home, differently than Anton. But maybe that is because Deacon moves in different circles. Scud hopes to find out more about his new master soon.
xXxXx
The procedure of the marking isn't new to Scud but this time his senses aren't dulled by hunger and adrenaline. He is wide awake and feels the sharp tip of the tattoo gun press the black ink into the thin skin behind his lip at an unmerciful speed. He chose to have this mark on the inside of his bottom lip and Deacon agreed. He already had a visible mark, he doesn't need a second one to remind him of his pitiful existence as a pet every time he looks into the mirror.
When the man puts his tool down and wipes away the last remains of ink mixed with small droplets of his blood Scud flinches at the rough handling. Deacon watches him with his arms crossed, standing behind the tattooist and taking in the sight of the small glyph. Scud sees the satisfaction even his hard expression for a small moment before he catches the human's look and his eyes turn dead cold again. Scud drops his gaze. Instead he investigates the tattoos of the man who just marked him. Between black and colored tattoos he can make out a vampire glyph. It decorates his bony shoulder. He surely isn't a pet, maybe a familiar or just someone who found his raison d'être in sharing his abilities with those dead bastards.
He doesn't say a word, just packs his things and leaves as if Deacon and Scud aren't even in the room. As soon as the door closes Scud reaches up and feels the small swell around his lips. It will take some days to heal completely.
"Good", Deacon says and the sound of his voice startles Scud. "So that is done."
He looks Scud over. Anton had looked satisfied after Scud's marking but Deacon just looks annoyed. Now the human is his and he has to make sure that no one else touches him or threatens his life. But he now also has the right to do with Scud whatever he wants.
This time he doesn't avoid the sharp look through icy blue eyes. Whatever it is his master asks him to do in the next days, weeks, maybe even months, Scud would take it. He could take it, whether it was a kick to the rips, a bloody nose or another night full of humiliations. Verbally or physically, Scud is too blunted to care about his well-being anymore.
'Try to stay alive', a familiar voice said. He repeated the small sentence like a mantra in his head every time he felt like giving up, giving in and turn into one of those dull dolls like he had seen seem them at Anton's parties. Scud wouldn't turn into one of those dead-eyed pets, standing in the corner and just waiting for the next command. He would stay alive and if he died by his master's hands he would die as the boy his mother had tried to raise, not as a vampire's slave.
A chill runs over his spine and he fights the unease making his body tense and small. Deacon should see what he has to offer, just in case.
But just when he straightened his shoulders, parting his legs a little in a subtle gesture Deacon opens his mouth and breaks the silence between them.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
Scud blinks, trying not to let the sudden confusion corrupt his clear mind he had just gotten back. His master is waiting for an answer, but does he want the truth or just something to reassure himself?
"Uhm", Scud starts and absently rubs over his stomach. "Fine, I guess."
Deacon tips his head like he had done after Scud woke up in the coffin bed. He takes a step closer, takes the human's chin in a careful grip and turns his head to every side.
"The bites are healing better than expected", he mumbles, more to himself than Scud. "You can say what you want but Missouri is still the best."
With a small nod he lets go and instead burrows his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. Scud looks up to him through the strands of his dark hair. Anton had liked when Scud had done that. Acting all innocent, like he didn't feel as when a fire was burning his abdomen from the inside.
But Deacon hasn't reacted to any of his subtle gestures so far and this time is no exception. He sniffs, the corners of his lips twitching like he is about to say something. Whatever it is, he drops it and instead takes a few steps back. Scud's eyes never leave his but he can sense his master's unease. It is something he saw only a few times and when it happened he got those weird looks only from vampires of lower grade. But Deacon doesn't seem like someone's minion. The man has a sense of power surrounding him and this means in most cases bloody brutality once his name is questioned. Scud would never question Deacon.
xXxXx
He clears his throat to break the awkward silence between them.
"I have a lot of work to do and I don't – you hear me? - do not want to be interrupted", he says and bites back the annoyed huff when the boy's eyes drop as soon as he spoke.
"You don't want me to do anything, Master?" the boy asks. His voice is a little raspy, maybe he's a smoker. But the lower tone doesn't come from years of inhaling death. It has a purpose. Deacon did notice all the subtle gestures, the lip biting, the look through the lashes and the way the pet leans slightly forth, parting his legs almost unnoticeable.
But he doesn't care. The human's behavior doesn't arouse him or wakes any interest. The pure fact that this pet, this boy, is human and his body marked by countless claimings is enough to extinguish any whatsoever wish of having him around.
"You serve one purpose", Deacon says. "You stay here and you stay alive. Nothing more, nothing less."
With cruel satisfaction he catches the small wince running over the human's face. It's gone within the blink of an eye. Whatever Anton did to him, he had trained him well on controlling his emotions.
xXxXx
Deacon isn't like his former master at all, that Scud knows by now. He hasn't fed on him yet, hasn't claimed his body and hasn't tried to bend and break his mind until Scud fitted his likings.
He told him to stay alive.
It was an easy to understand command but it moved much more in him than he had expected. Or than he had wanted.
Whoever this man is, this non pure-blood with the strange but fitting name Deacon Frost, he is a different caliber than Anton was. He seems to move on veiled ways and Scud can't tell if this will make his life easier or maybe even worse.
xXxXx
Deacon had showed him the bathroom and with a last look told him to take a shower. Scud mumbled a small "Yes" and then entered the white tiled room. As the rest of his master's apartment the bathroom too is wide and luxurious. Vampires don't necessarily need sanitary facilities, so the only reason for this room, decorated with an almost invisible painting imitating the night sky on the ceiling and the wide ceramic sink, is purely for swank.
Scud takes an unsure step into the room as the door behind him closes, the sound of metal scraping over metal sending a cold chill run down his spine. He hates closed rooms.
With shy fingers he pulls the black shirt over his head and folds it properly. Scud was never a person of order but the past months had taught him to enjoy the little things. Like real clothes, for example.
For an awkward moment he stands in the middle of the room, naked and brushes with his hands over the bandage still covering his stomach. Deacon told him his wounds should be fine by now and that he better takes the dirtied gauze off. But it's not the fear of an infection which keeps Scud from revealing the skin to fresh air. He is scared of what might lie underneath the fine white fabric. His memory hasn't returned yet and a dull feeling in the back of his mind tells him it's better this way.
With a shaky breath he starts to pull off the sterile tape keeping the bandage closed. It takes some minutes before he manages to wrap the fabric off completely. The spicy smell intensifies while the pile of gauze on the floor gets bigger and bigger. At last he carefully pulls a white thin blanket off his stomach. It's covered in some sticky paste and stings in Scud's nostrils. With a disgusted noise he lets it drop onto the pile of used gauze.
He feels the scars before he sees them. Thick and bumpy they press against the tips of his fingers. Scud's eyes water and he has to hold back a keen. But he has to see. There is a floor length mirror next to the sink. When he steps in front of the clean surface and takes in the full damage he is no longer able to hold back the whimper. The skin of his stomach is destroyed and the longest scar almost reaches up to his torso. The new thin layer of fresh skin shines in an angry pink, creating a brutal contrast against the rest of his pale complexion. With a shaky finger he traces the way of one scar. He can almost feel Anton's claws break through his flesh and spill his blood. Ironically the glyph hadn't been damaged. The sight of the small black tattoo makes him have the urge to cut that part of his body too. But his new master surely wouldn't approve of any new damage. Scud wonders if Deacon knows of his scars because vampires often have a distaste for permanent marks.
His eyes land on the small band-aids covering his arms, legs and neck. Almost in trance he pulls them off, revealing more damage to his blurred vision. Gladly the bite wounds healed better than the cuts on his stomach. Most of them are barely visible. As he turns his head a little Scud notices a dark spot under his left ear. It's not a bite mark, there are no punctures of razor-sharp fangs. He carefully touches the spot. It looks like a hickey. Scud frowns but his mind is too numbed to form any intelligent conclusion.
After he investigated the bite marks, scars and bruises decorating his body he notices the dark shadows under his eyes, his thin hair and his jutting rips and hip bones. Suddenly he understands what people mean when they talk about "being a mere shadow of one's former self".
He steps into the shower. Anton had never let him shower. Sometimes he had allowed him to take a bath but the conditions he had to fulfill for that privilege... He turns the water on, as hot as possible and lets the memory be washed away. The water feels good against his skin. Scud braces his arms against the wall as his vision blurs once again. His eyes land on the fresh scars of his stomach. They will never fade and they will always remind him of his failure, pressing the thorn of guilt deeper into his heart everyday.
For the first time in months Scud lets the wall he had built around his mind break down and a wave of emotions crashes around him, making his knees shake so violently he slips down onto the floor. As the glass surrounding the shower dampens Scud leans against the tiled wall, letting the tears mix with the hot water pouring down on him.