(AJ's POV)
AJ walked downstairs the next morning to hear the stereo on, playing what sounded like 90's Irish punk music.
"Of all the things they could be listening to- this is it?" She grumbled, tucking William's cloak under her arm before she noticed the shaggy black haired vampire closest to the stereo was mouthing along, words rolling off his tongue as easily as she could find the beat.
"My father once told this to me Boston's gritty history
Another ruthless battle In a useless holy war
Handed down discrepancies And tensions that'll never ease
One early afternoon on broad street It blew up down there for sure
Broad street's just not broad enough And you just don't love God enough
And if that isn't odd enough We've taken too much crap
You've pushed us round the sod enough We're scrapped and rapped and jawed enough
Poked, provoked and prod enough Something's gonna snap…"
"Ah, Boston. It'll never let me forget that night. Hard to believe it's been almost two centuries since then," he mused, shaking his head.
"Uh…Mike? Where's the others?" AJ asked as she took the chair closest to her, legs dangling over the edge of the armrest.
"Eh, they're around. Everybody likes their peace and quiet in the mornings, but with you, I don't know how they can deal. William might think we can't hear the two of you. But everything's magnified through the vents, and it's safe to say you're a shower girl, am I right?"
AJ squeaked in embarrassment, pulling the cloak over her head to hide her face, knowing she'd be blushing if it was still possible.
"It's alright; some of you are just louder than the rest. Hell, the girls I used to sleep with right after I got turned? You'd hear 'em half a block away." He reminisced, the music making him remember things he had been positive he'd once forgot.
"So…this is going to sound weird, but…how did you get turned? I mean, I know about William, but the rest of you-"
He smiled, "Listen to the song. Quite literally explains the event in which I was turned."
She nodded.
"The boston fire fighting volunteers On their way to fight a fire somewhere
Met with a funeral procession, Proceeding way too slow
A brownstone burns out of control We need to lay to rest this soul
Loggerheads on broadstreet Eye to eye and toe to toe
Broad street's just not broad enough And you just don't love God enough
And if that isn't odd enough We've taken too much crap
You've pushed us round the sod enough We're scrapped and rapped and jawed enough
Poked, provoked and prod enough Something's gonna snap…"
The song appeared to by about a fight between two groups of people, apparently a group of fire fighters and a funeral procession. By the time the chorus came around, Carden had started singing again, and Brendon had walked into the room, joining in.
"Riot down on broad street Hand me a brick, a stick, a picket Bottle, axe or cobblestone
Riot down on broad street And if I'm going down Hell, I'm not going down alone I won't go down alone!"
Carden paused the stereo, taking the seat next to AJ as Brendon continued humming the melody.
"I'd been living in Boston at the time, and it was good, until the fights started. Normally, we didn't have a lot of fights, but the one I ended up throwing a few punches in ended up costing my life. It was 1837, and in early June. I'd more or less been walking with some friends down Broad Street, hoping to hit a few of the Irish family ran taverns for drinks after work. Well, hearing fire truck sirens, we all turned. There was three or four trucks, all flashing lights and honking horns at this funeral procession that apparently wasn't moving fast enough. Before we knew it, some of the cars in the procession had parked and people were getting out. Not five minutes later, a fight breaks out in the street between the firefighters and the funeral goers. Most of my friends jumped in to help the firefighters, but as I looked around, I realized the Irish in the area were outnumbered. So naturally I jump in, and I'm able to hold my own 'til this idiot grabs a broken bottle and goes for my eyes. Well, after that, I said screw it, and just let the will to fight take over. Didn't matter who I was aiming for by that point, I was riled on adrenalin and I wasn't going to calm down. By the time the worst of the fighting had broken up, one of my eyes had swollen shut and I had blood pouring out of my nose, and I think I had a few chipped teeth. So I'm still trying to get out of there, find a tavern or something when this pretty brunette twenty something grabs my arm, insists she check me out. Turns out she's a nurse working for the local medical school."
Brendon whistles, obviously having heard this before. Before Carden can continue, AJ jumps in, "Wait, she's the one that turned you, wasn't she? What is it with you guys all being turned by chicks? First William, now you, and then I wonder-"
"That's not all of us. I know William personally sired Sisky and Butcher himself. Sisky's case had been because he'd been left for dead by a rival vampire gang, and well, William tells us he only saved Adam because he'd been reminded of a younger brother he'd once had. Most of us just believe that without thinking too much," Carden explained before Brendon added a few things.
"Well, and we remember when Butcher joined us, too, don't we? It had been just you, me, William and Michael. William had gone up north to Milwaukee for the day just to have a sort of vacation or something, and came back that weekend with the tattooed vampire following him. Poor guy had referred to himself as a quite literal 'starving artist', well, at least until William found him and turned him. But everything's worked out for the better for all of us, now."
"Can I go back and finish what I was saying? I've totally sidetracked myself." Carden pointed out, un-pausing the stereo to hear the rest of the song and to finish his tale.
"And when the fight was over They retired to the clover,
Silver dollar, thirsty scollar Whatever pubs they had back then
The brownstone was in ashes Broken bones and bloody gashes
And a casket sat on broad street 'til the sun came up again
Broad street's just not broad enough And you just don't love God enough
And if that isn't odd enough We've taken too much crap
You've pushed us round the sod enough We're scrapped and rapped and jawed enough
Poked, provoked and prod enough Something's gonna snap
Riot down on broad street Hand me a brick, a stick, a picket Bottle, axe or cobblestone
Riot down on broad street And if I'm going down Hell, I'm not going down alone And if I'm going down
Hell, I'm not going down alone And if I'm going down Hell, I'm not going down alone…"
"So this brunette insists on taking me back to her apartment, to look me over and stuff. So once she's done cleaning me up and bandaging the cut on my eye, she point suggests what had been on my agenda for the night anyways. Long story short, we ended up at the local tavern, knocking back a few drinks. I offered to walk her home, but of course I did realize the mistake I'd made. Woke up the next morning in the alleyway, incredibly sore and out of it. Then I found the note she'd left, tucked into my jeans. But by that point, I already knew what I was, that it was her fault. No use in trying to fight it."
"So I was right?" AJ asked.
He nodded, "Wasn't long after that that I found William, it was maybe two years after I turned I'd decided to move from the east coast just to see what else was out there. I ended up in Chicago, caught in more rivalries than I cared to be in. I had a knack for tricking others, my illusions often could help end battles before they started. It was one night after I'd projected a rather nasty illusion, one that had the punks and the rest of whatever lot there'd been clawing each other's eyes out and basking in the carnage that in turn caused both groups to head back from wherever they'd came from when I saw him. He'd been watching the fight, sitting atop the hood of some car, drinking tea of all things. Now, I hadn't fed for a while, so I was ornery and really would have preferred to be left alone. But then he started talking, he'd seen through my illusion and somehow knew what had happened to me all from that - that I didn't want others to get in fights like the one that had cost me my life. Offered to allow me to become part of his coven if I agreed to use my ability to help him someday take over the city. At the time, I didn't think he was serious, but by then he'd offered his wrist, and I was too hungry to think of much else. So here I am, some century and almost three quarters on one later, still with that same coven."
"Really? That's it? You got turned from some fight? Man, my story is so much more interesting." Brendon complained, smiling.