This one's a little short--it introduces an FK main character. I'll try to get the next one up tommorrow.
Part Four: A Parent's Untimely Visit
The sun hadn't even finished setting when a tall, ominous figure floated down into Nick's loft via the skylight. He was impeccably dressed in tailored, black attire; his hair a pale blond, cropped close to his skull in crew-cut style, while his ice-blue eyes held an angry glint as he surveyed the spartan room. The man touched down on first-level of the apartment, expensive leather boots barely making a sound as he walked over to De Brabant's baby grand piano and casually caressed its lacquered surface.
This was Lucien Lacroix, Nicholas' 2000-year old vampire progenitor---and he was not pleased. Last night, he and Nicholas had had a bit of a roe---nothing new, they seemed to argue a lot these past centuries---only some irritating mortals had happened upon the scene, forcing both of the compatants to retreat into seperate, shadowy corners until they could bring their inner Beasts under control. There had been too many of the humans for the ancient to deal with quietly or hypnotise into leaving again, so he had been obliged to 'blend' in while seeking out his son in order to drag him, willing or no,to a more private venue for their 'discussion'. Nicholas, however, must have chosen not to stick around for the rest of the fight; but fled into the air, leaving his sire to find other amusement for the remainder of the evening. Lacroix had opted not to follow as he had other business to attend to during before dawn broke: the production of his radio show at CERK, where he ruled the electronic airwaves during the graveyard shift as 'The NightCrawler'. The clandestine vampire knew he was undoubtedly the most caustic and beguiling radio personality Toronto had ever hosted---and that fact pleased him no end.
However, now was a new night and he bloody well meant to continue the 'discussion' between himself and his prodigeny that had been so rudely interrupted! Too, he'd been getting some rather intense feelings of outrage and protectiveness from down their parent/child bond---(a mental link created between them ever since he had nearly drained then encouraged Nicholas back from the brink of True Death.) Since a phone call to the desk sargeant had confirmed that his son had not returned to his ridiculous mortal's 'work' as a homicide detective, this bore looking into. Anything that aroused such strong emotions from his wayward child needed looking into.
Nicholas was such a handful at times---stubborn as a mule and twice as pigheaded. This 'cure' business had only ascerbated his child's misplaced desire for independence. Whether the boy admitted it or not, his tendency to leap first often landed him into bad trouble be it with mortals or other vampires. If he, as the duty-bound father, didn't take his patriarchial responsibilities so seriously...!
Sensing through the blood bond that his irresponsible offspring was still sleeping in his upstairs bedroom, Lacroix had started to levitate himself towards the second level when he heard a small heartbeat thumping quietly from the black-leather couch. Curious, he went over to see what type of mongrel his son had taken in now---the rythmatic sound being different from that of the female coroner Nicholas had so unwisely taken into his confidence and who now hung around the boy like some teenaged idol worshipper.
Indeed, he'd been correct. The figure under blanket was not that of Dr. Lambert's, but of a small child's. For some reason the mortal tyke was done up in a manner of costume that hearkened to those worn by youngsters who cavorted about in during late October demanding candy. The ancient vampire master snorted to express his contempt for such folly on the part of the adults: children should never be allowed to dictate terms on their superiors. Letting the little buggers running rampant, demanding sweets from house to house, making silly threats on the citizens within. This was hardly responsible behavior to be instilling in their offspring!
Lacroix snickered cruelly as he moved closer to eye the slumbering form, now softly whimpering in its sleep.
Another of those homeless waifs his soft-hearted protégé had taken in, most likely. Nicholas and his sense of charity. His son should know better by now than to pick up mortals and invite them whithin his lair. Children, especially, were trouble---overly active and more likely to snoop around where they were not wanted. Perhaps he should add this little mortal to the lesson he'd planned to give his son? Yes... the wisdom of keeping yourself seperate from mortals lest both sides get.. hurt. Nicholas was having trouble getting that one to stick into his head.
Well...granted, his daughter, Janette, occasionally took in a mortal stray along with her orphaned fledglings, but the Parisian was more responsible when she did it, hypnotising them so that they wouldn't do anything stupid while under her care. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed at times to almost hope that he would be found out. How many had died already because his child refused to accept that his conversion was permanent?
Ah..yes. The recompense there was that at least he had had the pleasure of dining on the mortals in question or influencing Nicholas to do so himself.
Dinner and entertainment rolled into one.
In fact... He should really take at least a sip from this newest boarder. Blood not only was a vampire's food, it also contained the owner's memories and emotions. Discovering why Nicholas had allowed this child into his sanctum would help to determine what action should be taken, how best to twist the knife of guilt his son habitually stuck into his own gut.
Poor Nicholas. He did tend to lay himself open to attack. Perhaps when he'd suffered enough pain he'd wrench out the knife completely and go back to revelling in his true nature instead of trying to fight it and his master.
Lacroix frowned deeply as he wondered what had gone wrong; what steps should have been taken long ago to help rid his son of this damnable conscience that had latched onto him as a hungry tick imbeds itself in a cub, sapping away its strength.
The Roman grinned at his own imagery. Perhaps that was a bad example.
At any rate, vampires couldn't afford to wallow in guilt and Nicholas was a textbook example of why. Guilt made you careless. If not for the advantage of his own age and authority as the sire, the Enforcers would have ended Nicholas quest for mortality long ago.
Or given it to him in a far more permanent manner than his son was looking for.
Not wishing to taste whatever noxious compound the youngster had applied to his skin to give it that light-grayish hue, Lacroix undid the small skull clasp off the cape, intent on uncovering an area close to the neck which would be free of any of the grayish makeup. The figure twitched a little as if voicing a protest at this violation of its personal space, but did not awaken.
Undeterred by the increasing movement of his victim, Lacroix's cool fingers brushed apart the purple material that obscured the face, preparing to start on the two vest buttons and thence the jumpsuit zipper should the shoulder area be tainted as well. They stopped before even touching the small, silver discs.
The sight that met his eyes upon the cowl's opening had driven away all thoughts of dining---at least for the moment. The former General for Rome's Imperial army raised an amused eyebrow.
My, my... What a novel way to enforce the old adage that children should be seen and not heard!
Perhaps, Lucien thought, he had underestimated his son after all? Such cruel efficiency was worthy of a Roman commander. But.. no, Nicholas was not into sadism---that was Lacroix's own predilection when other forms of persuasion proved fruitless. Even when his son had been younger, a confident--dare he say even 'cocky'?--vampire, Nicholas had prefered taunts and teasings when he'd played with his food. Outright torture made him uncomfortable. Which left the question as to why this child was still afflicted by the handicraft of a seamstress for the macabre. Why had the mortal not been packed off for treatment at the hands of the good doctor Lambert? Even if dawn had threatened, Nicholas knew all he had to do was call, and the woman would have rushed right over.
Curious and more than a little perplexed at this unusual discovery, Lacroix reached out to touch the sewn mouth...
_________________________________
Like Lacroix? Ain't he a peach? (inside FK joke eg)
Next up in Part 5, Wizardmon dreams of his first meeting with Lord Myotismon!
Part Four: A Parent's Untimely Visit
The sun hadn't even finished setting when a tall, ominous figure floated down into Nick's loft via the skylight. He was impeccably dressed in tailored, black attire; his hair a pale blond, cropped close to his skull in crew-cut style, while his ice-blue eyes held an angry glint as he surveyed the spartan room. The man touched down on first-level of the apartment, expensive leather boots barely making a sound as he walked over to De Brabant's baby grand piano and casually caressed its lacquered surface.
This was Lucien Lacroix, Nicholas' 2000-year old vampire progenitor---and he was not pleased. Last night, he and Nicholas had had a bit of a roe---nothing new, they seemed to argue a lot these past centuries---only some irritating mortals had happened upon the scene, forcing both of the compatants to retreat into seperate, shadowy corners until they could bring their inner Beasts under control. There had been too many of the humans for the ancient to deal with quietly or hypnotise into leaving again, so he had been obliged to 'blend' in while seeking out his son in order to drag him, willing or no,to a more private venue for their 'discussion'. Nicholas, however, must have chosen not to stick around for the rest of the fight; but fled into the air, leaving his sire to find other amusement for the remainder of the evening. Lacroix had opted not to follow as he had other business to attend to during before dawn broke: the production of his radio show at CERK, where he ruled the electronic airwaves during the graveyard shift as 'The NightCrawler'. The clandestine vampire knew he was undoubtedly the most caustic and beguiling radio personality Toronto had ever hosted---and that fact pleased him no end.
However, now was a new night and he bloody well meant to continue the 'discussion' between himself and his prodigeny that had been so rudely interrupted! Too, he'd been getting some rather intense feelings of outrage and protectiveness from down their parent/child bond---(a mental link created between them ever since he had nearly drained then encouraged Nicholas back from the brink of True Death.) Since a phone call to the desk sargeant had confirmed that his son had not returned to his ridiculous mortal's 'work' as a homicide detective, this bore looking into. Anything that aroused such strong emotions from his wayward child needed looking into.
Nicholas was such a handful at times---stubborn as a mule and twice as pigheaded. This 'cure' business had only ascerbated his child's misplaced desire for independence. Whether the boy admitted it or not, his tendency to leap first often landed him into bad trouble be it with mortals or other vampires. If he, as the duty-bound father, didn't take his patriarchial responsibilities so seriously...!
Sensing through the blood bond that his irresponsible offspring was still sleeping in his upstairs bedroom, Lacroix had started to levitate himself towards the second level when he heard a small heartbeat thumping quietly from the black-leather couch. Curious, he went over to see what type of mongrel his son had taken in now---the rythmatic sound being different from that of the female coroner Nicholas had so unwisely taken into his confidence and who now hung around the boy like some teenaged idol worshipper.
Indeed, he'd been correct. The figure under blanket was not that of Dr. Lambert's, but of a small child's. For some reason the mortal tyke was done up in a manner of costume that hearkened to those worn by youngsters who cavorted about in during late October demanding candy. The ancient vampire master snorted to express his contempt for such folly on the part of the adults: children should never be allowed to dictate terms on their superiors. Letting the little buggers running rampant, demanding sweets from house to house, making silly threats on the citizens within. This was hardly responsible behavior to be instilling in their offspring!
Lacroix snickered cruelly as he moved closer to eye the slumbering form, now softly whimpering in its sleep.
Another of those homeless waifs his soft-hearted protégé had taken in, most likely. Nicholas and his sense of charity. His son should know better by now than to pick up mortals and invite them whithin his lair. Children, especially, were trouble---overly active and more likely to snoop around where they were not wanted. Perhaps he should add this little mortal to the lesson he'd planned to give his son? Yes... the wisdom of keeping yourself seperate from mortals lest both sides get.. hurt. Nicholas was having trouble getting that one to stick into his head.
Well...granted, his daughter, Janette, occasionally took in a mortal stray along with her orphaned fledglings, but the Parisian was more responsible when she did it, hypnotising them so that they wouldn't do anything stupid while under her care. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed at times to almost hope that he would be found out. How many had died already because his child refused to accept that his conversion was permanent?
Ah..yes. The recompense there was that at least he had had the pleasure of dining on the mortals in question or influencing Nicholas to do so himself.
Dinner and entertainment rolled into one.
In fact... He should really take at least a sip from this newest boarder. Blood not only was a vampire's food, it also contained the owner's memories and emotions. Discovering why Nicholas had allowed this child into his sanctum would help to determine what action should be taken, how best to twist the knife of guilt his son habitually stuck into his own gut.
Poor Nicholas. He did tend to lay himself open to attack. Perhaps when he'd suffered enough pain he'd wrench out the knife completely and go back to revelling in his true nature instead of trying to fight it and his master.
Lacroix frowned deeply as he wondered what had gone wrong; what steps should have been taken long ago to help rid his son of this damnable conscience that had latched onto him as a hungry tick imbeds itself in a cub, sapping away its strength.
The Roman grinned at his own imagery. Perhaps that was a bad example.
At any rate, vampires couldn't afford to wallow in guilt and Nicholas was a textbook example of why. Guilt made you careless. If not for the advantage of his own age and authority as the sire, the Enforcers would have ended Nicholas quest for mortality long ago.
Or given it to him in a far more permanent manner than his son was looking for.
Not wishing to taste whatever noxious compound the youngster had applied to his skin to give it that light-grayish hue, Lacroix undid the small skull clasp off the cape, intent on uncovering an area close to the neck which would be free of any of the grayish makeup. The figure twitched a little as if voicing a protest at this violation of its personal space, but did not awaken.
Undeterred by the increasing movement of his victim, Lacroix's cool fingers brushed apart the purple material that obscured the face, preparing to start on the two vest buttons and thence the jumpsuit zipper should the shoulder area be tainted as well. They stopped before even touching the small, silver discs.
The sight that met his eyes upon the cowl's opening had driven away all thoughts of dining---at least for the moment. The former General for Rome's Imperial army raised an amused eyebrow.
My, my... What a novel way to enforce the old adage that children should be seen and not heard!
Perhaps, Lucien thought, he had underestimated his son after all? Such cruel efficiency was worthy of a Roman commander. But.. no, Nicholas was not into sadism---that was Lacroix's own predilection when other forms of persuasion proved fruitless. Even when his son had been younger, a confident--dare he say even 'cocky'?--vampire, Nicholas had prefered taunts and teasings when he'd played with his food. Outright torture made him uncomfortable. Which left the question as to why this child was still afflicted by the handicraft of a seamstress for the macabre. Why had the mortal not been packed off for treatment at the hands of the good doctor Lambert? Even if dawn had threatened, Nicholas knew all he had to do was call, and the woman would have rushed right over.
Curious and more than a little perplexed at this unusual discovery, Lacroix reached out to touch the sewn mouth...
_________________________________
Like Lacroix? Ain't he a peach? (inside FK joke eg)
Next up in Part 5, Wizardmon dreams of his first meeting with Lord Myotismon!