Crimson : Bloody Life
Dusk til Dawn... .. .

Chapter IV

"...will have to ingest blood to survive. At least once a month, you will have to eat flesh in order to maintain your weight, otherwise you will wither into a shell of your former self. Do you understand?" Ekimus had been educating Alex on the way of un-life for vampires for a good part of two hours, and it was making Alex antsy, to say the least. "Alex, are you listening?" asked Ekimus, frustrated.
"No. You've been drowning on for hours, and I'm tired of listening. And, by the way, about that blood thing? Ah, no. No no, I will never drink blood, so forget that. Uh-uh," snapped Alex. Ekimus had clothed him in an altar boy's robe, and the itch of dust in it only made Alex more finicky.
"That is where you are wrong. You have already drunk blood. In the time I watched over you, I fed you the blood of pigeons -- you need it to live," sighed Ekimus, tired of trying to teach an uninterested pupil.
"That's where YOU'RE wrong, freakshow, I am not...a fucking...vampire--!! And even if I am, I'd rather face the sun again that have to...bleugh, drink blood!" said Alex with contempt. He was fast growing tired of this whole situation. He got up to walk away, and Ekimus placed one clawed hand on his shoulder.
"It is not a choice, Alex. You must..." he started before Alex started to run away.
"NO! Leave me alone!" snapped the boy as he started sprinting away. Ekimus tightened his grip on Alex's shoulder and pulled him back in front of him. Alex groaned at the strength of this creature. "Get back! I'll hurt you...!"
"Enough!" boomed Ekimus, as he slammed the back of his open hand into Alex's head, sending him sprawling to the ground. He sighed.
"You...you hit me..." said Alex from the musty floor. Memories of his own father's one slip floated through his mind, and he felt tears sting his eyes. "You'll never do that again!!!" he screamed as he ran for the door again. He looked out through the clean spots on windows as he ran. It was dusk out, no sunlight would burn him now. He threw open the doors and ran into the street. His bare feet slapped at the pavement as he ran, looking for some refuge from the events surrounding him. He felt a faint tingling against his skin, as the remains of light faded to the night. He ran past a hotdog vendor into Central Park. He walked through the grass now, feeling the slick blades brush against his feet. He looked around. There weren't many people in this part of the park, so he decided it would be safe to sit down at a bench without being disturbed. He sat by a large duck-pond, looking over the water and the shades of pink and red that danced across it, reflected from the sky. Alex wiped away a tear, trying to come to grips with the day.

"You must be the newbie, hey?" asked a voice from behind him. Alex weakly looked back at the voice, which carried either a Mexican or a Native American accent, he couldn't tell which. Standing behind him, elbow propped against a tree, was one of the weirdest looking people he'd ever seen. A slim but well muscled Native American man stood there, wearing a leather shirt that looked straight out of a cowboys & indians movie, a large pair of baggy jeans, and a collection of bracelets and rings. His face was adorned with some kind of native design, painted blue and black, and his arms bore a continuous twisting symbol of a tattoo. He stood just under six feet, and had a smile that could put the Cheshire cat to shame. "How," chuckled the stranger.
"New...what?" asked Alex bewilderedly. He had a worried look on his face. So much for undisturbed. This new character was most certainly disturbed.
"New VAMPIRE, bobo -- what else you think I mean?" asked the strange character.
Alex felt his anger flare up. His teeth grew inside his mouth to fangs again, and he snapped at the stranger, "I'm NOT a vampire...!" The stranger chuckled.
"Haw! Oops, my bad -- you must be one of them saber-tooth yuppies ya' hear so much about then," he said, pointing at Alex. His fingernails were painted black, and had been sharpened to points; claws almost. Alex brought a hand up to his mouth, and strained to reign his sharp teeth in. He felt the ache of shifting tooth subside and the prick of fangs disappear.
"What's it to you, anyway? Who ARE you??" asked Alex. The stranger looked around and chuckled.
"I'm Joe. I'm wit' the crew, man," said the stranger-no-more. Alex gave him a bewildered look. "I'm vampiro, too, bobo. But, dig -- since I know how tough this shit c'n be, I'mo take you unner my wing!" They started to walk along a sidewalk, the night rapidly approaching. Street lights flickered on, and Alex wondered why he saw his surroundings better when the lights were off. Joe walked with a strange bobbing action, like he was moving to some tune no one else could hear. "I'm gunna show you the ropes -- and help you get pas' this denial crapola you got goin' on."
"I am not..." started Alex, before he was interrupted.
"Oh, g'ddammit, man...yeah, you are! See, most newbies go through these things, like 'seven stages into undeath'. You at stage three: denial. 'ventually you'll get to acceptance, trust me -- there ain't a lotta choice in the matter. You is what you is, and dat's all dat u is, man! You're a vampire, bloodsucka, 'fang-ged zombie'," said Joe. They were walking across an overpass now, and Joe hopped up on the hand-rail and started walking along that. He continued, "and wit' that in mind, let's get you sumpin to eat!"
"I...can't..." stuttered Alex at the thought of drinking blood. Joe scoffed.
"HehHEH! S'not up to you, bobo, you GOT to drink -- at least a little...else your beast-side takes over an' you'll go on a mean fuckin' feedin' frenzy! That you don't wan't, b'lieve me," he chuckled, his arms spinning ever so slowly to keep his balance.
"Beast-side?" asked Alex. He watched with awe as Joe did a handstand on the rail, then flipped to the ground beside Alex.
"Ayuh. See, for us vampiros, takin' blood is natural -- and your nature'll always see you get whatcha need, no matter what! Kinda like breathin' used to be, ya' know? Now then, follow my lead an' I'll show you the hows..." said Joe. They had made it to a turn in the road at the top of a hill. Joe pointed to the road at the bottom of the hill, where two punkers in long coats walked, spouting curses and braying laughter. "Those malos down there, f'r instance -- they here peddlin' rock -- they'll make perfect donnors, cause nobody cares if ya prey on the predators. Dig? Lez go!" With that, Joe bounded down the hill, letting out a growling chuckle. Near the bottom of the hill, Joe jumped and grabbed ahold of a tree branch. He swung on it, and let go at the perfect time. He flew through the air at the drug dealers, his claws and fangs ready. "HOLA POPTOPS!!"

Joe sank his claws into the shoulders of both of them, sending them crashing to the ground. One let out a foul word, and drew a switchblade. Joe stepped on his hand, sending the edge of the blade into his side. The pusher cursed again, and clutched his bleeding ribs, until Joe stomped his foot into the pusher's face, knocking him out cold. Joe turned to the other one and picked him up roughly. This one had his own weapon, a handgun, but Joe took counter-measures -- he sunk his fangs deep into the drug-dealers arm, then using his vampire strength and sharp claws, he ripped the end of the dealer's arm off. Alex watched with horror and fascination, saliva gathering uncontrollably in his mouth.
Within five minutes of Joe finishing his speech to Alex, the drug-dealers were messes of blood and torn clothing. Joe was covered with strings of tacky blood, his clothes starting to absorb the fluid. He turned back to Alex, still holding the one armed punk, who was most definitely dead.
"Yeee-aaah! C'mon bobo -- plenty juice for both'a us!" he called, shaking the corpse. Blood splattered to the ground. Alex could feel his teeth growing inside his mouth again, growing into sharp fangs. "Hey, man, I'm not envidioso!" called Joe [note: envidioso: greedy in mexican]. He waved his open hand in front of the body, like a prize-girl on a game show displaying prizes. He smiled a bloody smile and beckoned Alex, "take a sip."
Alex took one step forward, uncontrollably hungry for blood now. But pictures and moments of memory flashed in front of his eyes, and Alex could barely catch his breath. He saw Joe holding the shredded crook, yes, but in Alex's mind Joe was standing among the bikers who were in the middle of viciously killing his friends. The transvestite turned to Alex and laughed "Shredded 'em!!"
"NOOOOoooo!!!" Alex screamed, and ran into the night. Joe watched him go, scratching his head.

"Still in denial. Oh well, that'll change...bobo'll see there ain't no choice at all," he said, and got back to his meal.