Three
The alarm woke Shade up long before Misprint, who was substantially buried in pillows and clothes, giving Shade the impression that even if the building did collapse, Misprint wouldn't be able to hear it. She rolled over and smacked the clock, only making the volume spinner shift upwards, causing her ears to rattle horribly.
"Whazawhoonow…" Misprint muttered, her face appearing from under the gigantic mound of fabric. "Whadidyoudo…"
"I dunno." Shade yawned. She finally fumbled around and found the "off button", clicked it, and promptly fell back asleep. Misprint, however, dragged herself out of bed and pulled a spare pillowcase from her hair. She shuffled into the bathroom and yawned, grabbed the jar of OXY pads that Shade always kept, and she was always stealing, and started swiping at her face, wondering if the coolness of the god-knows-what in there would help her wake up.
She finally took some of the rosewater witch hazel concoction Shade had found and rubbed that on her face too, trying to get rid of the sharp odour of the OXY pads. Then she took a hair brush and gel, and stared at her hair in the mirror, which was flattened and ugly. Working quickly, she took the brush and started viciously working out the hair spray clumps from yesterday, squinting as her eyes watered.
Half an hour later, Misprint was dressed in her blouse, navy blue tie and kilt, bright rainbow socks, which were not allowed, strictly speaking, and dim hints of eyeliner.
Shade was waking up.
"Heya sleepin' beauty." She said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "We got twenny minutes. Think you can swing that?"
"Watch me." She said sleepily, as she trekked into the bathroom.
True to her word, she was awake and ready in fifteen. Misprint raised her eyebrows and applauded as Shade bowed, immaculate, (well, almost, considering the hemp necklaces that decorated her arms, legs, and neck, which also, weren't allowed), and ready for breakfast.
"I don't feel like goin' to Science taday." She said, pulling her hair back into a braid as they walked through the halls. They, as always, were the last ones down.
"You wanna cut it? Go spend time in The Closet?" Misprint asked. "The Closet" was an empty, janitors closet, that still held brooms, mops, buckets, and the perpetual odour of ammonia. But it was silent, and abandoned, and the last place any two girls would want to hang out if they were cutting class. That's why it was perfect for Misprint and Shade.
"Nah." She said. "We shouldn't start so early in the year. Maybe in a couple of months."
"True." Said Misprint, but she sighed in disappointment, as they headed down to the mess hall.
They quickly took their seats before anyone could get on their case about being late, and sat there, trying their best to look like angels, (which was hard, with the forbidden make up, socks, and hemp jewellery) and waited for the usual eggs to be served.
Finally, when Maria walked down the table, dumping the eggs into each girls bowl, both found out that they weren't cooked especially well that morning, and were almost floating in egg slime. The two limp, floppy pieces of bacon were laid beside it.
"That's pretty gross." Shade said, a hand instinctively going out and clutching her orange juice.
"Happy breakfast." Misprint said softly. Shade nodded, disheartened, and began nibbling at the bacon.
Misprint was daydreaming. She often did that, trying to escape the cramped, shallow life of the boarding school. She thought of the club tonight, and hoped the music would be good, not some kind of techno remix of another pop song. Bronze street was a little ways away from here, but they could walk it. They always did.
Before she knew it, the bell was ringing, telling them to get the hell out of the mess hall and to class.
+
Misprint was reprimanded four times for the socks by lunch time. She had grown sick of hearing it. "Those are not part of the uniform, Faith." "Faith, what are you wearing?" "Faith, what happened to the navy blue socks?" "Those aren't the right socks, Faith."
Shade, alike, had her necklaces confiscated five times by the end of the day. Misprint was sure that they'd have confiscated her own socks as well, but, let's face it, you can't confiscate socks.
The day dragged on like any other school day, in which you have no interest or attention for any of the lessons whatsoever. The only interesting course they had all day was Home Economics, and it wasn't because they were making oatmeal cookies. It was because two of the new kids were in that class.
The first thing Shade noticed as she walked into the fairly large, gleaming white kitchen-class was the black haired boy and girl from yesterday. She elbowed Misprint, who glanced at them, then shrugged dismissively. She was already concentrating on the recipe that their teacher had set out. She was never the best cook in the world, and hated the organisation that was required.
"Gimme the right ingredients, instructions, and an oven." She had told Shade once. "And I'm fine. But when every single drop a' moisture in the damn measurin' cup has to be poifect, that's when I crack."
Shade dropped her bag down onto a chair, then hesitantly made her way over to the two new kids. The girl had her uniform, and was looking quite indignant indeed as she pulled at the tie, fiddled with the kilt, and rolled the socks up and down. 'Get used to it.' Shade thought, smirking. Then she sat down across from her. The boy, who was sitting next to her, looked up in surprise.
"Hi." She greeted. "Name's Shade."
"Chaos." The girl said smoothly.
"And," the boy paused. "Bumlets." Shade raised an eyebrow, but didn't delve into the subject of the strange origins of the boys name. Even though she had never heard a name like it, she was certain it was a nick name, or some kind of term of affection.
"You guys know Jack Kelly?" She asked suddenly.
"Jack Kelly?" Chaos said, furrowing her brows. "Never heard of him."
"Nope." Bumlets added. Shade glanced at the both of them. They had said it too smoothly, too quickly to let it be true. The way Chaos's eyes dropped as she returned her gaze almost confirmed the fact. Bumlets leaned back in his chair and started fiddling with the straps of his back pack. He hadn't been able to retain a uniform yet, so he wore a black sweatshirt and jeans. His hair flopped adorably in front of his face, but it looked as though he had used mounds of gel and styling products to keep it exactly like that. Shade decided to break the ice.
"You guys heard 'bout that club opening tonight?" She asked. Chaos shook her head slowly. Both acted as though they wanted her to leave, but were trying to appear normal and friendly. "Well…" She leaned in closer. "Don't tell nobody, but my friend and I are attending the opening."
"What time?" Bumlets asked suddenly, looking up.
"Maybe ten thoity." She replied.
"Don't go." Chaos said smoothly. Shade looked at her, her eyebrows raised. "It'll be dark by then."
"We know." Shade replied. What was it with the new kids and the "don't go out after dark" deal? How could they be so like Jack and not know him?
"You can't go out after dark." Bumlets said calmly. Shade leaned forwards.
"That's what Jack said as well." She remarked. "You sure you don't know him?"
"We told you before." Chaos said, a little too snippily. She flipped her pointed hair over her shoulder. Shade caught the nervous movement, and studied her. Her hair, even though it was shoulder length, was sharp. Like it had been spiked down. Her eyes glittered nervously, concealing secrets. "I ain't never heard of him, neither has Bumlets."
"Well how do you two know each other?" Shade asked casually. Chaos and Bumlets exchanged a look, and even Shade caught the secret anxiety.
"Siblings." Bumlets said finally. "Chaos is my sister."
"I see…"
"Listen." Bumlets continued. He put down his back pack. "Don't go out tonight. Even if it is the opening of this new club. It'll be dark." Shade was about to reply, when their teacher, Mrs. Carson, appeared, as though sent there by some kind of irritating magic.
"Take your seats please." She said, in her infuriatingly nasal voice. Shade sighed and stood, then sidled back over to Misprint. She couldn't wait to figure this out with her friend.
+
Jack sighed and sat down on his bed. Chaos stood in front of him, which was part of the reason he was so aggravated. She had her hands on her hips and was staring at him, as though he could magically come up with a proposition for these two troublemakers.
"Whaddaya staring at me for?" He asked. She shrugged.
"Just telling you. They're not going away. And it's easy to guess what we do. Thanks to Buffy, our job is very publicized."
"I know, I know." He said, not wanting to get her started on the hard lists of facts. He stood and pulled off his shirt as he made his way to the dresser. She turned around so he wasn't running away.
"And you didn't tell me about that letter from the Bronx." She accused. He glanced behind him.
"Didn't get the chance."
"Didn't get da chance? We were together for the last half of the day, Kelly!" She said, her eyes flashing with anger.
"Well I forgot."
"How could you forget about something as important as this?"
"It ain't all that important!" He yelled, pulling on the same tank top from last night and sliding a few choice weapons into his pockets.
"It ain't important and I'm the Queen of Prussia." She rolled her eyes.
"Well, whatever, a'right?" He yelled.
"No, it ain't alright." Standing there, hands balled into fists, eyes livid, she looked like some kind of murderer dressed as a school girl. He tried not to smile. "We're supposed to be working as a team, Kelly."
"Well you obviously found out about it, so it's not big deal!" He glanced out the window as the sun set, and made sure he carried the blade he usually did. The city was glowing, again, but he saw past the glow, only seeing what he would be doing in a few short minutes.
Chaos threw her hands up in aggravation, then stalked over to his dresser and yanked the drawers open.
"Hey! Whaddaya doin'?" He protested.
"Borrowin' your clothes." She snapped. "At least your good for that much." She pulled out a pair of baggy jeans and a big black tee shirt. Then turned and climbed out the window. She scaled down the side of the building and made for the girls tenement, seething with rage.
Jack ducked out the window.
"You'd better bring them back when you're done!" He yelled after her.
"You want me to iron 'um for you too?" She called back, angry. He sighed. That's when he heard the raucous laughter from the rest of the dorm.
"Higgins!" Mr. Kloppman, the boys supervisor called. "Into bed this instant!"
"Ah, comon Kloppman." The short boy called back, laughter mingled in his voice. "I was just jokin'!"
"Enough of your jokes! Into bed!"
"Yes sir." He replied. A door somewhere slammed. A few more slammed after, and another burst of laughter, amidst Kloppman's yells.
Jack smirked as he kicked off his shoes and pulled the covers up to his head. None of these boys had learned that if you respected the rules, it was easier to break them later. Or currently. The door shifted open, and Kloppman's beady black eyes appeared.
"Kelly." He barked. "You got yer uniform yet?"
"No sir."
"You get it tamorrow morning, you hear?"
"Yes sir."
"Good boy." He slammed the door, and Jack couldn't help but grin. A few moments later, he could hear the same conversation, but with Dutchy. The door smashed closed as well, and he sat up immediately, pushing his shoes onto his feet again. Then he crawled to the window and stuck his face out the side, waiting. Dutchy finally appeared, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Hi Kelly." He mouthed.
"Comon." Jack mouthed back, motioning to the vines that crawled up each side, which Chaos had used to escape. Dutchy glanced at them nervously. It was well known that Dutchy's only flaw was the fact that he was incredibly afraid of heights. But he bravely grabbed onto one of the vines and swung his leg over the side of the window.
Jack did the same, and for the next five minutes, concentrated only on scaling down the side of the building. He was a little nervous about reaching the ground and having to walk past the girls dorm to escape. After all the emphasis he had put on staying inside and not going out late at night, he'd hate for them to see him, even though he had to be out. He couldn't explain without getting all his co-workers in trouble. But seeing him wandering around in the twilight wouldn't be good for an example.
He finally dropped to the ground, silent as a cat, and waited for Dutchy, who was being so incredibly careful that it drove him mad. Bumlets joined him, and they watched him finally stumble off the vine and hit the ground. He rolled over and was on his feet instantly again, nervous sweat all over his face. He wiped his forehead and breathed out. They exchanged smirks, and silently waited for Chaos.
She appeared, dressed all in black, Jack's clothing, and pulled her weapon out of her pocket.
"What are we waiting for?" She asked. The four adolescents made their way around the girls dorm to the gap in the fence.
+
"Pass it to me. Quick. This burns." Shade begged. Misprint hastily gave her the towel, and she clamped it over her head. Her hair was decidedly darker, almost a purple-black, and an empty die container was perched on the purple-stained sink.
"It looks awesome." Misprint assured her.
"It ain't even dry yet."
"But it still does." Shade pulled the towel away and both could see the huge, grape-coloured stain that looked as though someone had melted a Popsicle on the soft, furry whiteness of the cloth. Shade grabbed a brush and started running it through her damp hair, grinning at the fact that her fingers were no longer colouring along with it. Misprint quickly passed her the hair dryer, and watched as her friends wet hair slowly dried into a mass of curls, that straightened as they reached her chin. She finally flipped her head upwards, and her hair flew out over it, then flopped over her shoulders, framing her satisfied grin. It was so dark it was black, with flashes of purple where the light hit it. She turned and inspected it in the small mirror that every dorm had.
"I told you."
"It really don't look too bad, does it?" She grinned. Then she grabbed the straightener she had saved up to buy, and started running her hair through it. Misprint left then, to grab her gel. This night, her hair would be spikier than ever before.
Shade had dressed her up for the occasion, even though Misprint had fought terrifically. But now she stood, wearing black, vinyl pants that felt like a second skin, and a black tank top that would usually be unexciting, except for the fact that between the straps of this one stretched a piece of fishnet. She had faint, gloomy shades of eye shadow around her clear blue eyes, making them seem bigger, and brighter. Then, this being her own idea, she had taken tiny stick-on diamonds and put one a few centimetres below one eye, and then a few centimetres more down below her other eye. When she turned her head and they caught the light, they looked like crystal tears slowly trailing down her face.
Shade, when she was done straightening her hair, parted it in the center and let it fall before her shoulders, instead of tying it back in the braid that she usually wore. She sported a long, tight fish net top with a black tank top over it, letting her belly button diamond show, and bell bottom jeans. The hemp necklaces were gone, and in their place, spiked bracelets. Then, as an afterthought, she drew a line going down from the bottom of her eye, and up from the top, like The Crow.
She left in time to see Misprint poking at her leathery looking pants.
"I can't believe you talked me into this." She moaned, used to the boxers and baggy jeans that she wore whenever she got the chance.
"You look fabulous." Shade rolled her eyes. Misprint glanced over at her friend. It was amazing how much a different hair colour and a change of texture could make someone look so different. But it was still Shade's deep brown staring cynically from her face.
"So do you." She returned the compliment. "Now comon. Let's go."
The two girls climbed up to the window and, as quietly as possible, jarred it open. Mrs. Mayen, the girls supervisor, had already been around to check they were all in bed. Now, at 10:30, they were finally able to escape.
"Maybe we shouldn't." Misprint smirked, as she climbed out onto the ledge. "It's dark." Shade giggled, and climbed next to her. The ground blurred below them, three stories away. Hastily, Misprint grabbed onto the window ledge at the top and started climbing along side the row of windows, on her way to the fire escape. Shade felt her stomach clench as she grabbed onto the same ledge. This was definitely the most dangerous part of the operation. The climb. If they slipped or lost their balance, it was a long way down. Sometimes, the night had been so slick with rainwater, that Shade had almost toppled to the ground. She was extra careful about these things now.
Finally, Misprint reached the fire escape and clenched the railing with both hands, before swinging herself up onto the platform. Then she turned around to help Shade. As Shade slid over the railing, they both sighed in relief.
"Thank God that's ova." Misprint grinned. Shade did too, but then it slid off her face immediately.
"Shh!" She hissed suddenly, straining her ears. Misprint froze. If they were caught now, like this, it would mean the end of the world, or at least suspension. Possibly an expulsion. Not that they wouldn't be happy, not having to go to school, but the boarding school was an orphanage as well, and without it, they'd have no place to stay. They hastily ducked into the shadows, and watched as four figures crept across the small grassy area before the girls dorm.
"Hey! It's Jack!" Shade whispered suddenly, darting forwards. Misprint followed slowly. "And Chaos, and Bumlets!"
"Whadda they doing out? It's dark!" Misprint said, then she clapped a hand over her mouth before she could laugh.
"Be serious." Shade snapped. Misprint put on a mock offended face.
"I'm serious." She sounded like a five year old. Shade rolled her eyes, and watched in incredibility as they left through the gap in the fence that Misprint and Shade used as their escape route too.
"I don't believe that jerk." Misprint said, still smirking. "All that emphasis about not going out after dark. Look at those asses!"
"Jack's was particularily nice." Shade said wistfully. She was certain to duck the swing that Misprint sent her way.
The girls climbed down the fire escape, praying it didn't choose to collapse on them. Their hands were clasped tightly, and a great amount of tension lifted from their shoulders as they jumped to the ground.
"Some day, we're gonna be killed, sneaking out like this." Misprint commented. "And not by Ms. Mayen." Shade shrugged.
"Any where would be better than here." She said. This somewhat depressed Misprint, and they slowly started walking towards the gap in the fence in silence.
Their silence, however, slowly started wearing off as they reached Avenue A. Lights and cheers were surrounding it like a cigarette cloud. The smell of nicotine and alcohol was as repugnant as anything, but strangely appealing at the same time. Shade closed her eyes.
"I wonder if they have tequila…" She said softly. Misprint laughed and grabbed her elbow. "Comon!" She said, dragging her towards the club.
As they reached the entrance, they both simultaneously caught sight of the big security guard, checking off names and letting people in. Misprint's shoulders slumped in disappointment.
"Well, so much fa that." She said sadly. Shade rolled her eyes.
"Haven't you ever seen any teen movies? There's always a way." She muttered.
"What's that?"
"Comon!" She turned around and suddenly cut through the alley beside the club and the next building. Misprint raised an eyebrow, but hastily obeyed. The two of them emerged in the alley behind the club, and Misprint could have laughed out loud when she saw the door that was slightly ajar. Obviously, they weren't the only ones who had thought of the back.
"Why don't they have people back here?" Misprint asked in wonder as they darted towards it. Shade shrugged.
"It's opening night. Things are slack." Shade shrugged. Then she wrenched the door open the entire way.
The music and lights took Misprint so fast, it was unimaginable. The diamonds on her face glittered, and she immediately started bobbing her head in time. It was familiar, Papa Roach. She grinned in relief. No techno.
"I'm over at the bar." Shade said instantaneously. She was already on her way over.
"Ain'tcha gonna dance?" Misprint called.
"I don't dance!" Shade replied. Oh. Right. How could Misprint have forgotten? Maybe in the excitement of the evening. Shade rarely danced, actually, never at all. If anyone asked her to, she quickly declined and, if they were likeable enough, tempted them to sit with her with the help of tequila.
Misprint, on the other hand, was a totally different story. Any time there was music, even if it was only in her head, she was forever swaying, tap dancing, or even just nodding her head to the beat. And this time, with the power chords blasting in her ears, she was ready to dance.
Some punk next to her with hair that was spiked a foot off his scalp had his head tipped sideways, and was holding a red container with a needle up to his neck, just below his ear. He injected it into his vein and his eyes fluttered close. He looked very dizzy. Misprint hastily shied away from him. She didn't like to be around people when they were getting high, they tended to freak her out. Instead, she made her way over the dance floor, burning inside with a fire.
Shade sat down and watched as a woman with bright red, curly hair turned around a smiled plastically at her.
"Hiya honey." She grinned. "Can I get you anythin'?"
"Shotta tequila." Shade said. "How much is it?"
"Hey, it's openin' night." The woman said, filling up a glass. "Don't cost a thing."
"Sweet." Shade remarked. She took the glass and downed it all in one shot. She wondered how long it would take for her to get too drunk, and spun around on her chair. She scanned over the club, and smiled at all the dancers. Misprint had often told her how much she was missing by just sitting by the sides, but Shade could see no point in going up and making a fool of herself. Of course, it was usually a lot more interesting if they had a live band. Instead, they had a large, muscular DJ with dread locks and a goatee leaning back flipping through a magazine, waiting for the song to end. She was glad that he wasn't going crazy with the records and making that weird scratching noise most seemed addicted to. There was nothing more annoying.
She turned back to find that her glass had been refilled for her. She grinned. Free drinks on opening night. She'd teach them not to be that silly again.
As she was turning around, she noticed two tall figures that immediately caught her attention. Squinting through the haze of coloured spot lights, she suddenly recognised who they were and spun back to her tequila so fast, she was worried she had left her vision behind, and it was slowly spinning to catch up with her. She took a sip of her tequila. It was Jack and Bumlets.
So they had been right. They were two of the four that had escaped that night. But what were they doing here? They didn't seem like the dancing, or even sitting down at the bar and drinking themselves drunk kind. Even as she glanced over her shoulder, she saw them against the wall, silently watching all of the dancers.
Part of her wanted to go over and talk to him. She was kind of angry that he had thought of her as a small girl. Don't go out after dark. The hypocrite. She wanted to go show him that she was big enough to take care of herself, didn't care what he thought, didn't care that he had told her to stay at the tenement. But something restrained her. She remembered the connection they had in Mrs. Orrello's class, and didn't want to sever that by annoying him. If she talked to him now, she wouldn't talk to him again. Choosing the opposite, she decided to remain seated. She was no longer a curly brunette in school uniform, but a straight dark haired chick in fishnet and black. She doubted he'd recognise her.
To Misprint's annoyance, just as she reached the mosh pit situated rather illogically in the press of thousands of people who didn't want to jump, but just stand there, the song dissolved into nothingness. She sighed in disappointment as the pit promptly disbanded, except for two drunk, muscular guys, screaming and shoving each other. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes men could be so idiotic.
To her delight, a familiar song started playing. A jazzy high hat rhythm filled the club, along with a mysterious man's voice blaring out "who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead?" it asked, sounding like a 60's horror movie. Sudden power chords blazed through the air, and thousands cheered, including Misprint. She began dancing, letting her limbs fly free, aware of some staring at her. So she wasn't the master of hip hop, the way she danced made her feel good, made her feel free.
Rage in the cage
And piss upon the stage
Only one sure way
To bring the giant down
Defunct the strings
Of cemetary things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
At one point, as she whirled around in the middle of her dance, she caught the image of a figure at the side of the club staring at her, with eyes that flamed, melting the colours of the spotlights, then cutting through the ashes to burn through her stomach. She self consciously moved back, accidentally bumping into one girl with a beer bottle in her hand, swinging it about wildly. When she turned to glance at the interference, Misprint noted the long scar down the side of her face.
She hastily looked back to see what the stranger was doing, but he had disappeared, as easily as the spot lights that flipped on and off.
Raping the geek
And hustling the freak
Like a hunchback juice
On a sentimental noose
Operation filth
They love to love the wealth
Of an S.S. whore making scary sounds
Letting him slip into the back of her memory, she suddenly found herself smack dab in the center of an immense mosh pit. Grinning, she started jumping up and down too, feeling the density and weight of the thirty people around her move her almost effortlessly. She loved the feeling of the heads all moving at the same time, the feeling of all of them falling and rising, feet hitting the floor at the same time. She twisted around to see if she could pick out Shade, but there were too many people to see past, too many people to move. The third verse of the song started up, but she was too busy moshing to actually listen to the words that she already knew so well anyways.
She screamed along with everyone else, and exchanged grins with one of the girls that turned around. She had dull brown hair and eyes, and it took Misprint a moment to realise her arm was clasped tight to her stomach, in a sling. She raised her eyebrows, but smiled wider. It seemed you get everyone in clubs.
The song ended and she stopped jumping, watching as the dancers around her slowly spread out. She panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. She had been moving throughout the entire song, but adrenaline and energy pierced through her like needles. She grinned and straightened, already prepared for the next song.
Bound by the time on the clock
Bittersweet wondering the quiet transfusion
Hold tight nothing is complicated
Hold tight everything's fine
Confidence fell through the hole in your pocket
The simple's illogical so it be logic
I'm caught in the diaries with all your complaining
The curious scribblings of one who has everything
Leave me unholy and dirty and beautiful be
Unholy and dirty and beautiful
Misprint's grin only widened when she realised it was David Usher. How could Shade not dance? This club had some of the best music, not like the repetitive drum beat and synthetic beeps and sounds like most. Her feet felt like they were pounding into the floor as she danced, letting the music take over her body.
She spun around on one toe and suddenly stopped as she felt arms on either side of her. She twisted around in the grip and found she was staring at the same eyes that had cut through the air during "Living Dead Girl." Crystalline green-blue-grey iris's slashed at hers, while the hands tightened on her waist. The tan coloured skin around his eyes and the dark hair that flopped in front of his face only made the colour stand out more. She hastily tried to back up, but he only pulled her closer. His gaze was so captivating, it took her a moment to realise that he was swaying her softly in time to the music.
Cherish the lies that you bought
Charming delusions gone crack in the fire
I know we might be mediocre
I know nothing's on fire
Confidence fell through the hole in your pocket
The simple's illogical so it be logic
I'm caught in the diaries with all your complaining
The curious scribblings of one who has everything
Leave me unholy and dirty and beautiful be
Unholy and dirty and beautiful me
Unholy and dirty and beautiful
Beautiful, beautiful
Unholy and dirty
If Misprint had one rule, it was that she did not dance with guys. She didn't even dance with anyone. When it came to music, she always came alone, a solo dancer. So when he started moving her in time to the beat, she rammed the heel of her hand into his forearms, making his arms flop to his sides.
"Jesus." He smirked. She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away, but he grabbed her wrists and pulled her back. She was irked by the insistence of his ways. Probably some guy high on nuke, ready for a fight. She made eye contact with him, paused, and pulled away again.
"Leave me alone!" She yelled, backing up. He reached out, and his fingers clenched around her wrists again, and with a smirk, he pulled her towards him, against his chest. She was painfully aware of how close their faces were to each other.
"Dance with me." He whispered. She was astounded she could hear it, even though the music was louder than she had ever heard it before, the order in his voice was audible, even though it was nothing but a hiss. In fact, some people dancing close by glanced over their shoulders, as though he had yelled it over a microphone.
"No." She yelled back. "I don't dance." He didn't answer, but in the sudden glare he gave her, she felt as though a hand had clamped around her brain, then started gently guiding her thoughts. She blinked a couple times, and the tiny connection was broken, but something was wrong with her mind. He let go of her wrists and encircled her waist with his scrawny, yet muscular arms and pulled her, if humanly possible, closer. This time, she placed her hands on his shoulders.
You can give a try
Average to sustain
You can give a see
You can give a stay
Everything's to the feel
As the years go by
Listen to the tide
You can make a stride
Never come again
Never come again
Never come again
Shade, on her fifth shot of tequila, was already a little dizzy, and had to blink a couple times to clear her vision whenever she looked anywhere. And this time, she wasn't sure if she was actually seeing what she was seeing, or if it was the alcohol. She looked at the rest of the dancers. They seemed normal, or as normal as a crowd of Goths and punks could humanly be, so maybe she wasn't as buzzed as she thought. But when she looked back at Misprint, she was still dancing with the guy.
Not that it was a bad thing. The strange boy was pretty good looking, with the dark brown hair and gold skin, and the bright blue diamond eyes that were too light for his face. He wasn't insanely muscular, but not scrawny either. And judging from the way his shirt was stretched across his chest, pretty strong.
Just the image of him and Misprint together was strange. How many times had she bugged Misprint about dismissing the boys who had flirted with her on their nights out? How many times had Misprint sneered when Shade eagerly copied down a guys number, or gave hers out? How many times had Misprint smirked and said "Yer crazy", whenever Shade had urged her to do the same?
"I'm a lone wolf." She had said once, her unusually coloured eyes glinting. "Ain't no boy gonna tie me down."
"Well, if you ain't into bondage, that's a good thing." Shade had remarked. That's when Misprint had creamed her with the pillow.
She glanced up at Jack again and saw that he was still scanning the floor, and conversing softly with the boy beside him. She groaned, and downed her sixth shot. She was going to talk to him. She didn't care if the alcohol was affecting her decision, she only wanted to go talk to him. Maybe point out Misprint, let him in on the inside joke, and why she found it so hilarious. As she hopped down from the stool and swayed a little dizzily on her feet, she caught sight of his partners eyes catching on something, and looked back with interest as he hastily elbowed Jack in the ribs. Jack followed his line of sight, and his jaw tightened with anger. Then, pulling something from his pocket, the two made their way towards it.
Shade was about to follow when someone strode past her, knocking her shoulder, and sending her tumbling back against the bar.
"You okay there, honey?" She heard the barmaid ask. She nodded, not trusting her tequila logged voice, and straightened again, watching the room spin. Maybe she had consumed enough tequila for tonight, she thought drunkenly. When she looked up again, Jack was gone.
So were Misprint and the boy with the beautiful eyes.
Misprint wasn't exactly sure what was going on when he pulled her outside. She remembered dancing a foot away from him, letting herself go completely crazy, when he had suddenly grabbed her wrist.
"You wanna get outta heah?" he had asked. She was already rather drunk on the music and light, and only blinked at him.
"What?"
"Ya wanna go outside or something?"
"What?" She had yelled. He had sighed, glanced up at something beyond her shoulder, then taken her face in both hands and pulled it towards him. He had leaned over and whispered in her ear, his cold breath making her shake.
"You wanna get outta here?"
"Where?" She had whispered back, but he already had his arm around her waist and was pulling he off the floor, with some kind of supernatural strength. Once more, he glanced up at something, before returning his gaze to the door near the back.
Leave me unholy and dirty and beautiful be
Unholy and dirty and beautiful me
Unholy and dirty and beautiful
Never come again
Never come again
Never come again
Never come again...
Misprint had caught sight of the boy who had injected himself with Nuke when they first came in. He was collapsed on the floor, his eyes closed tightly, and his breath drawing in and out of him with difficulty. She had drawn in her own breath, then allowed herself to be led out into the back alley.
She laughed softly as he pushed her up against the wall, helping her regain her balance and her mind from the club.
"Good music." She said vaguely, still giggling. Her brain finally pulled itself away from the music of the club and suddenly realised the intensity of the situation. His hands were on her arms and his feet planted firmly in front of hers, pushing them back against the brick. They were farther apart than they had been in the club, but the distance, now, was a lot less comfortable for her. He smirked at her, the hair from that hung before his face brushing hers slightly.
"What's your name?" He asked softly, tipping his head one way. She swallowed.
"Faith." She whispered. Then she cleared her throat. "But no one calls me that."
"Whadda they call you?" He asked his eyes fastened on her throat.
"Misprint." She said, feeling as though speaking was some kind of exhausting, difficult task. She tried to breathe normally. She felt sweat break out on her palms. "Whadda they call you?" She said finally.
"A lotta things." He said, tilting his head the other way.
"Name one." She replied. He smirked.
"Conlon. Spot Conlon."
Spot? It was original, Misprint could grant him that. But lately…Chaos? Bumlets? Another strange name didn't matter. Anyways, she got the feeling that even though he asked her name, he didn't care. It wouldn't surprise her.
He suddenly leaned in and hovered near her neck, as though he was going to kiss her, but remained an inch away from the skin. She stared tersely at the other end of the alley. He breathed in deeply, let his face travel from her neck, to her collarbone, up her throat, to her lips, as though he was smelling the very scent of her skin and blood.
"Whaddaya doin'?" She asked fearfully.
"Shh…" He opened his eyes and pressed a finger against her glossed mouth. His finger then moved to her eyelids, which he slowly pushed down, until she shut her eyes. But the minute his touch disappeared, she opened her eyes again. He smirked, and suddenly shifted closer, pinning her. She felt distinctly uncomfortable, but couldn't move. Like something was controlling her brain. But she could feel it weakening, losing power over her thoughts.
His face tilted towards hers, and suddenly, his cool lips hit hers gently, driving out everything in her mind. She instinctively drew in breath, and let the kisses come, his lips smashing against hers. She vaguely wondered why she wasn't Shade. It seemed she was always the one who was able to get with a guy, or ended up kissing him, while Misprint rolled her eyes, highly annoyed, stood off to the side. But now, here she was, with this mysterious strangers lips tight on hers.
All feelings of stopping this flew from her brain as his thumbs gently stroked the skin on her arms, and then left to trail up and down her rib cage. She wrapped her arms around his neck and impulsively pulled him closer. Every now and then, her lips hit something sharp, something smooth and hard. His teeth, she guessed. But she didn't know teeth could be that long. With a small cry, she jerked her head backwards and it hit the brick. Something had pierced her lip, leaving a small indent, in which blood was rapidly pooling. She breathed in to say something, but he was on her again, closing her mouth for her. There it was again. The control on her mind, powerful. Stronger than before. She bent her arms more, pulling him in, and realised that he was sucking the blood from her lip, biting at it. Every second brought more pain as his teeth dug deeper into the flesh.
Just as she was about to pull away again, he finally left her mouth and kissed a trail along her cheekbone. She hastily ran her tongue over the insides of her lip, and grimaced at the torn, bleeding skin. A small part of her brain thought 'what the hell was that?' but the other part just wanted more of his touch. His hands were firm on her rib cage, his knees pressed against hers. Her mouth parted slightly, and a small drop of blood fell onto her bottom lip. He finally returned his mouth to her and kissed her, before burying his face in her neck.
She half smiled and let her face rise as he kissed her pulse, and moved slowly around to the side. His lips were still cool, despite the heat of her throat, and she wasn't surprised when it registered that his fingers were icy as well. With one hand, she played with a strand of his hair. Her eyes instinctively closed.
It seemed like an eternity, she with her back against the wall, his lips against her skin. She had no idea that her first kiss would be this crazy, and was already feeling overwhelmed when it happened.
A sudden rush of breath on her throat made her realised he was opening his mouth. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt his bottom teeth hit the skin.
"What…" She muttered. But before she could get another word out, she felt two twin punctures stab past her skin and into the flesh of her throat. Her eyes widened and she let out a scream that twisted through the night, but was heard by no one. He moved his teeth slightly, letting the warm red blood from her neck pour into his mouth. She grabbed the back of his hair and yanked viciously, successfully pulling his head back.
"What the hell are you doing?" She yelled. He only laughed and grinned at her, the red on his teeth shining on his fangs.
His fangs?
'This isn't happening.' She thought frantically.
"Whassa matter?" He grinned, leaning towards her again as she tried to fend him off. She tried to lift her leg to kick at his shins, but it was stapled firmly to the wall by his own. He grabbed the side of her face and wrenched her head sideways. She could feel the sticky blood from the wound run down her neck, and spread over the fishnet. With a hoarse cry, she pushed her head from the wall and smashed it into his. His head snapped back, but then he straightened and was immediately ready.
"Whassa matter, Misprint?" He repeated. She realised her arms were still around him, and encircled his throat with her fingers and dug her nails against the cool skin. He laughed, then slammed his fist into her gut, causing her fingers to weaken considerably. "I'm impressed." He smirked. "But I still am hungry." A smirk lifted the corners of his lips. "Jus' relax." With that, he leaned in and licked some of the blood from her skin.
"Fuck." She hissed. The curse escalated into a scream, and another, and another. He suddenly pulled away.
"Shaddup." He hissed. She kept screaming, hoping to god someone would hear. "I said shaddup!" He slammed a hand against her mouth, choking off the screams, and went back to her throat, and placed his lips over the wound, draining the blood from the puncture, as though it was wine. She tried to scream again, but with his aberrant energy, it was as though he had clamped a cloth soaked with chloroform over her lips. She felt herself getting dizzy as the blood left her, and blinked a couple times, trying desperately to clear her vision. Vampire. He was a vampire. Or she was going crazy. Either one she was willing to believe.
The thoughts that had so frequently crowded into her brain the past few minutes started to slowly dissipate, stretching themselves thin, as he drew blood from her. She closed her eyes and groaned softly, then fought to keep them open. The sounds of the club, the streets, and Spot, blurred in her mind.
"Get offa her, you fuck." Shade said.
+
Which chapter is this again? Oh sweet, it's the raunchy one.
On that note: Sorry, no shout outs. As a matter of fact, no shout outs for a long, long time. Shade and I have resolved to stop doing them, because it slows us down something awful. We're hardly ever online to do them at the same time, and whenever we are, it's inevitable that fanfiction.net isn't working.
On the bright side? Faster updates. Much, much faster. Once the new chapters start coming in, we promise to start vocalizing our gratitude. But in the meantime? More reading, less…gratification?
Alright, my foot is now firmly in my mouth. 'Scuse me, will you? I'm going to read over this chapter again. It's hot.
-Misprint