A/N: Hello again. I have returned with something completely different from my first fic. This was inspired by Anne Rice's 'The Vampire Chronicles'. I've finished 'Interview With the Vampire', The Vampire Lestat' and 'Queen of the Damned' so it's off to 'The Body Thief'. Matt just seemed to remind me of Lestat and because I love Tai so much I flung him in as well, though you may not pick up on it. I say this because I decided to go a whole new route and do away with names! Why bother?! Anyway 'the boy' thing is not a reference to Interview, which I so do not own. DUH!!
Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Vampire Chronicles' they are purely Anne Rice's. I also do not own Digimon or even Paris for that matter.

Sin City
1750

The heels of His Italian made shoes tapped upon the rough stone pavement as He made His way briskly through the rapidly darkening streets. He could have moved silently, had He chosen to, but the sound provided Him with an extraordinary feeling of vibrancy. Such simple pleasures. Hands clasped behind Him, straight as an arrow, He searched almost effortlessly. His thick golden tresses seemed to shine faintly with some unearthly glow. Outfitted in blue crushed velvet, He strode through the streets, the perfect gentleman. That was until you considered the face. While the rest provided suitable ruse for the human deceit, the face presented the real story. Long and narrow it was frightfully pale and devoid of all expression. The lips were drained and set in a firm straight line. But, the eyes...the eyes were special. The brilliant blue was near blinding. The glint, the mischief...the hunger, yes, the eyes told all.

Paris at midnight burned with excitement. The city was alive with frivolity and passion. The city of sin. Had it ever been called that? Should have. It's people were lovers who fueled the nights with their delights. Paris was magnifique! And no, not L'Arc de Triumphe or the Tour d'Effiel, but the real Paris, the one that belonged to it's lovers and them to it. The smell of the city was intoxicating, musky mix of sweet, sweat and death. Oh yes, there was death. People lay dead and decayed in the streets. You walked by, there was nothing you could do. Such was the glory of Paris, the city of sin.

He tossed the body carelessly to the ground. He hadn't felt playful tonight so there had been no teasing or tantalising. He had simply swooped down and closed upon the poor unsuspecting one. A few minutes and it was over, but the impending euphoria lasted much longer. He gazed at the mangled form. He had been dreadfully rough and it lay broken and twisted before Him. Would He ever grow tired of it, stop relishing the feel of the kill? Maybe...maybe not. He was a monster, deceiving all with the young and handsome face. They never saw it coming.

Warm and satiated, it was time to enjoy the night. There were endless bars and brothels to chose from. He would sit alone quietly observing, engrossed in the lives and excitement of the patrons. It was intensely enjoyable for Him, especially when the sight and scent of their essence became near maddening and He fought not to clamp onto a flushed cheek as the 'ladies of the night' blushed while advertising themselves to the rowdy men of the establishment. Such sin, such bravery, such blatant disregard, He loved it.

At some point or other, His eyes settled upon a young man tucked away in a corner all alone, much like Himself. His eyes were downcast as he nursed his drink, the long brown locks falling delicately over his eyes. These were dark and soulful, yet possessing an innocent radiance that intrigued the Dark One immediately. Such beauty was not to be taken for grantd and the one with the prenatal glow had no intention of doing so. He loved the young ones, the ones so much like Himself before... before this. They possessed the sweetest nectar. To watch their eyes fill with pain and terror, as realisation dawned slowly upon them, was one of His greatest thrills.

The young one stepped out into the cool night air and began a leisurely stroll. And so they continued for sometime, the Dark One moving closely behind. Finally, He fell into step with the other who glanced at Him for a second before continuing on his way. They walked in silence, neither seemingly taking any notice of the other. Then suddenly, He stopped and pulled off His gloves with a faint smile. He reached out and grasped the young man whose eyes grew shocked and huge. He knew His hands were freezing. The cold, clammy hands of death, they say. The brunette tried to yank himself away but the Dark One only pulled him closer. The young one's face was filled with a vague terror as he stared anxiously into the eyes of the man holding him captive. He brought His hand to the boy's cheek and stroked it softly. Slowly, the younger one relaxed and found himself pulled into an embrace. The Dark One's lips brushed gently across his neck and the young one reached his arms aroung the strong shoulders. The Dark One pressed Himself to the boy and tore the flesh with His teeth. Brunette moaned in pain and ecstasty as they stood entwined. The air was still and the night silent as the Dead One took what the other had to offer.

The arms fell limp from around His frame. He held the body away from Him. The skin was a sickly pale colour and the head lolled to the side as if the neck had been broken. The Dark One almost smiled as He thought how simple a task that would have been, but He was feeling generous and there had been no urge to destroy the boy. Not when he had been so responsive. The young one gave a whimper. There was life in him yet. The Dark One slit His wrist and dripped the elixir onto the two tiny puncture wounds which vanished almost immediately. Always conceal the kill signature. He gently placed the body on the ground and turned to leave. But before He could He heard a quiet "Qui etes vous?". The boy seemed lost as he tried to focus, but his eyes seemed to have glazed over. The end was rapidly approaching. The Dark One pondered a moment, He never revealed His true identity. "Yamato.", He breathed. It wouldn't matter, death was a mask no secret could escape.


A/N: Well I have not decided if I really like it or not. But it seemed like an interesting idea. I only hope the same thing doesn't already exist, and if it does, sorry, I didn't know. I don't remember much french so there could have been incorrect sentence construction. Did the young one die? What else is in store for the Dark One? Should I continue, or stick it up my ass?! You tell me. REVIEW!!! COMMENT! Please. Just write something, even 'hello' to let me know ppl are actually reading it.