Last Chance
Prologue
By Hotshot
At first America was thought of to be a place where people of all nationalities, classes, and ways of life would blend. It would truly be the best of all places. Violence would never be present and there would be a promise of safety and caring families to welcome you home every night. Disease would be unheard of and death a thing for those frail and senile with old age. All would speak the same language and share the same dreams; all would be equal and jobs would far outnumber the amount of people. Every man would be a king, his fortune growing by the day and his family's perfection multiplying as well. Mostly it would be the perfect place to raise children.
Even in its early years America had problems, especially surrounding large cities like New York. Disease stricken families cramped into crowded tenements; a lack of jobs and money so awful that children as young as five were forced to walk the streets doing odd jobs and being paid less than nothing. Most were paid such little attention that they could lie dead on the streets for days before anyone realized it. And during strikes thugs were brought in to beat these poor children senseless. And in the winter they were forced outside even when the bitter cold was enough to kill them.
Things did get better for these children, but they also grew worse. Laws were passed, but they never stopped all the pain. Decades passed, as did new ways of thinking. New generations began and ended. Employment rates shifted, and prices rose. Many look at it and say how good a life it is but how can it be good when people still suffer.
The thugs hadn't stopped attacking, except now they were called gangs and attacked everyone. Children, no teenagers, were still cheated and forced into minimum wage jobs. Diseases became more curable, but only for those with money. Violence was everywhere and death was often there to claim young victims. There were fights between genders, races, nationalities, everyone. Every man and woman struggled for survival, struggled to live. Struggled in a world that didn't give a damn about them.
Through all these times you'd think the people there to support you would be your family, but alas, that was not always right. Prostitution rates rose rapidly, as did the number of pregnancies. Children were left to homes, foster families, relatives, and some even left to die. Later on others wish they had followed the same path, and found their new way out, suicide. For many that did have families life was just as hard. Scraping by with just enough money to pay rent or hiding alcohol from alcoholic parents. Trying to keep grades up and stay in school. Without an education you couldn't get a job, but you couldn't go to school without somewhere to live, and you couldn't live somewhere without having a job to pay rent. It was an endless cycle. There were broken homes too. Abusive parents, drugs, alcohol and sex were all available on almost every street corner.
The city was never at a standstill. There was always movement. Drugs being sold, sex and alcohol. Lives were destroyed or taken right on the sidewalk.
Memories built up in everyone's minds, the good and the bad creating an intricate web of lies and truths to fall back on. You had to learn who to talk to, who to avoid, where to hide, when to run. You had to be tough to a certain degree or you were doomed to die. The dangers far outweighed the safety that your place of living was supposed to bring. Hate and anger far outweighed any love. There was no sense of comfort or any person who took pity. You were born into this world with a place. If it wasn't perfect you couldn't do anything about it. You were forced to adjust, as hard as it was every man for himself. The laws of the Hammurabi code could be found, an eye for an eye. You had to deal with the world around you. There were many ways to do this and each created downfalls.
Some turned hard, forced to grow up fast they bottled up all feeling and played the tough guy. They were the ones you didn't want to mess with, the ones who knocked over small businesses, carried blades and guns, stole, lied, and cheated, left to fend for themselves and grow up far too fast. Others pretended it wasn't happening. They ignored everything surrounding them and allowed themselves to fall into oblivion. Naivety and oblivion were friends to these people and visited all too often. Some embraced what happened. They loved the drugs, sex, and the crazy lifestyle that came along with all of it. For them it wasn't anything that would be given up for a few unpleasant nights in jail. There a small few that simply melted into the background. They knew what was going on. Some were against it, some weren't, but they were all aware.
Those surrounded by abuse and violence often faced the most difficult reality. Bruises, broken bones, and broken trusts could be healed over time, but a spirit would remain bruised. Some of them ran, the need to get away stronger than ever. Others forced themselves to stay. They had to protect the others and stand up to their fears. They could have been killed and no one would ever notice. There was always some reason to go back.
Then there were those few, more then a few really but no one ever realized it, realized it and lived long that is. They lived for the darkness and the terror that ran through these streets. The ever-changing times, trends, and lives did little to slow or harm them. For them the city moved at fast pace around them but they stood still, never changing, never straying from their path. They were the few that could stand up to those aforementioned horrors of the city, the ones that struck fear into the hearts of even the toughest. They drank blood for pleasure and added to the rising death toll. Each of them had their own tale; their own life as a vampire. They each had a story, one few knew, and sometimes they told you before draining your blood. But you almost never knew the whole story. Never.
* * * A/N: Yeah, that might look kind of familiar to anyone who read this before. I've decided to rewrite this story. The old version just wasn't going anywhere, and I had a new idea with a better storyline, though I still don't know exactly where I will go with this. As some might be able to tell this will be a vampire fic. I'm not opening up a casting call right now but I may in the future if I don't get enough characters from my other source. Hope you liked this. Reviews are appreciated no matter how much criticism they contain so please leave me one.
~Hotshot~~~
Prologue
By Hotshot
At first America was thought of to be a place where people of all nationalities, classes, and ways of life would blend. It would truly be the best of all places. Violence would never be present and there would be a promise of safety and caring families to welcome you home every night. Disease would be unheard of and death a thing for those frail and senile with old age. All would speak the same language and share the same dreams; all would be equal and jobs would far outnumber the amount of people. Every man would be a king, his fortune growing by the day and his family's perfection multiplying as well. Mostly it would be the perfect place to raise children.
Even in its early years America had problems, especially surrounding large cities like New York. Disease stricken families cramped into crowded tenements; a lack of jobs and money so awful that children as young as five were forced to walk the streets doing odd jobs and being paid less than nothing. Most were paid such little attention that they could lie dead on the streets for days before anyone realized it. And during strikes thugs were brought in to beat these poor children senseless. And in the winter they were forced outside even when the bitter cold was enough to kill them.
Things did get better for these children, but they also grew worse. Laws were passed, but they never stopped all the pain. Decades passed, as did new ways of thinking. New generations began and ended. Employment rates shifted, and prices rose. Many look at it and say how good a life it is but how can it be good when people still suffer.
The thugs hadn't stopped attacking, except now they were called gangs and attacked everyone. Children, no teenagers, were still cheated and forced into minimum wage jobs. Diseases became more curable, but only for those with money. Violence was everywhere and death was often there to claim young victims. There were fights between genders, races, nationalities, everyone. Every man and woman struggled for survival, struggled to live. Struggled in a world that didn't give a damn about them.
Through all these times you'd think the people there to support you would be your family, but alas, that was not always right. Prostitution rates rose rapidly, as did the number of pregnancies. Children were left to homes, foster families, relatives, and some even left to die. Later on others wish they had followed the same path, and found their new way out, suicide. For many that did have families life was just as hard. Scraping by with just enough money to pay rent or hiding alcohol from alcoholic parents. Trying to keep grades up and stay in school. Without an education you couldn't get a job, but you couldn't go to school without somewhere to live, and you couldn't live somewhere without having a job to pay rent. It was an endless cycle. There were broken homes too. Abusive parents, drugs, alcohol and sex were all available on almost every street corner.
The city was never at a standstill. There was always movement. Drugs being sold, sex and alcohol. Lives were destroyed or taken right on the sidewalk.
Memories built up in everyone's minds, the good and the bad creating an intricate web of lies and truths to fall back on. You had to learn who to talk to, who to avoid, where to hide, when to run. You had to be tough to a certain degree or you were doomed to die. The dangers far outweighed the safety that your place of living was supposed to bring. Hate and anger far outweighed any love. There was no sense of comfort or any person who took pity. You were born into this world with a place. If it wasn't perfect you couldn't do anything about it. You were forced to adjust, as hard as it was every man for himself. The laws of the Hammurabi code could be found, an eye for an eye. You had to deal with the world around you. There were many ways to do this and each created downfalls.
Some turned hard, forced to grow up fast they bottled up all feeling and played the tough guy. They were the ones you didn't want to mess with, the ones who knocked over small businesses, carried blades and guns, stole, lied, and cheated, left to fend for themselves and grow up far too fast. Others pretended it wasn't happening. They ignored everything surrounding them and allowed themselves to fall into oblivion. Naivety and oblivion were friends to these people and visited all too often. Some embraced what happened. They loved the drugs, sex, and the crazy lifestyle that came along with all of it. For them it wasn't anything that would be given up for a few unpleasant nights in jail. There a small few that simply melted into the background. They knew what was going on. Some were against it, some weren't, but they were all aware.
Those surrounded by abuse and violence often faced the most difficult reality. Bruises, broken bones, and broken trusts could be healed over time, but a spirit would remain bruised. Some of them ran, the need to get away stronger than ever. Others forced themselves to stay. They had to protect the others and stand up to their fears. They could have been killed and no one would ever notice. There was always some reason to go back.
Then there were those few, more then a few really but no one ever realized it, realized it and lived long that is. They lived for the darkness and the terror that ran through these streets. The ever-changing times, trends, and lives did little to slow or harm them. For them the city moved at fast pace around them but they stood still, never changing, never straying from their path. They were the few that could stand up to those aforementioned horrors of the city, the ones that struck fear into the hearts of even the toughest. They drank blood for pleasure and added to the rising death toll. Each of them had their own tale; their own life as a vampire. They each had a story, one few knew, and sometimes they told you before draining your blood. But you almost never knew the whole story. Never.
* * * A/N: Yeah, that might look kind of familiar to anyone who read this before. I've decided to rewrite this story. The old version just wasn't going anywhere, and I had a new idea with a better storyline, though I still don't know exactly where I will go with this. As some might be able to tell this will be a vampire fic. I'm not opening up a casting call right now but I may in the future if I don't get enough characters from my other source. Hope you liked this. Reviews are appreciated no matter how much criticism they contain so please leave me one.
~Hotshot~~~