Just act normal….just act normal…
The goth just kept replaying the phrase in his mind, but was finding it progressively harder to practice what he preached as the endless seeming drive to the sacrificing area with Mike continued to drag on and on. He knew Mike couldn't have possibly known about his meeting with Mysterion, or the uprising that was sprouting right under his nose, but something inside him was screaming that the vamp leader did know.
That somehow Mike had learned of his treason, and that this trip was really just trick to drag him out to the middle of nowhere, kill him in some brutal and horrific way, and dump his body in a ditch never to be seen again.
Or worse...
Stop it right now! Pete mentally screamed at himself as he keeps a blank face. Mike doesn't know about this! There's no possible way on earth he could! I destroyed the evidence for god sakes! Just relax, and bide your time till Mysterion comes! Reassured by his own words, the Goth seems to visibly untense his shoulders, and decides to speak and break the silence.
"So… are you still not going to tell me who-"
"Nope." Mike replies blandly; cutting him off.
"If I might ask… why?" Pete meekly questioned; wanting to keep the conversation going.
"Because I don't want to risk telling if you know them personally." Mike responded.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Pete asked with a hint of worry in his voice.
"I want to maintain any connections you have, but if we've taken someone you know… there's a different procedure." Mike answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
As uncomfortable as that statement made Pete, he couldn't help but feel it could have been worse. He felt a little better knowing that they were going to their place of operations, rather than the middle of nowhere, but he felt like they intentionally picked someone he knew.
"If… If I guess who it is, will you tell me?" Pete asked.
"No guessing. Now shut up before I stop the car and sew your mouth shut with a rusty needle." The head vampire threatened.
Pete kept quiet for the rest of the trip. Mostly because he was sure he'd crack if he had to actually speak out-loud anymore, but also because he knew just how insane Mike was, and that, if he didn't follow his commands, would follow through with what he said.
Soon, Mike suddenly pulled his car into a lot of an abandoned factory of some sort, and parked it in the shadow the building cast out into the night by the moonlight.
"We're here." Mike muttered, sounding distant.
Pete couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at his tone, but continued to not say a word. He then followed Mike's lead and slid out of the car before following the head vampire to a nearby door that was previously hidden in darkness. The other then produced a key from his jacket pocket, and with a fluent motion, unlocked it before pushing it open.
"After you." Mike smirked, gesturing Pete inside.
The Goth hesitated at this; having been to this building before, but not actually going in to be apart of the sacrifices. Mike always claimed he wasn't ready, in times past. He didn't complain. He was comfortable being as far away from it as possible. After the last time, he didn't want anything to do with it.
Alas, Mike wanted him front and center, this time. Was it a special occasion, then?
He quickly walked through the doorway; feeling the gaze of other lower-ranking members through the darkness. With Mike right behind, however, their glares didn't last long.
"Welcome to your first sacrificing, Pete." Mike said with a smirk; although shrouded by the shadow of night, it was given away by his voice. "Now, allow me to shed some light on those questions you were pestering me with." The head vampire then snapped his fingers, and soon, dim lights flickered to life.
Only half of the dark room was illuminated, but the bloodstained walls and floors remained in the dark with Mike's unneeded lackies. Mainly, the lights were overhead the chair where victims were strapped into for the blood-draining process. Duller lights, that were still shut off, were kept around the room so Mike could see who was left to be killed. When Pete closed his eyes, he could still hear the screaming of victim's past. Namely Firkle's.
"Brings back fond memories, doesn't it?" Mike asks; his tone dripping with dominance and tease.
Pete gulped; having several memories of the room, but none of them being fond whatsoever.
"Of course, I suppose it doesn't answer any questions." Mike continued. "So I won't keep you in suspense any longer." The head vampire snaps his fingers once more, and the rest of the lights in the area flicker to life.
The goth's heart almost stopped at who the selections were.
On the far wall, tied up to the metal frame of a bed, was Kyle, Stan, and a small girl with dirty brown hair he vaguely remembered as Firkle's former friend Karen McCormick, Kenny McCormick's little sister - all three of them knocked out in their respective holding areas.
"I must say, you suggesting these two was surprising." Mike says as a vicious grin comes onto his face. "But at the same time, it was a stroke of genius. I mean, Marsh and Broflovski are two of the most well-known kids in town. With them dead and gone, people here will become even more distrusting of each other then they already are, and eventually, they'll all destroy themselves from within! It'll be total anarchy at it's finest, and we'll have front-row seats! Oh, and if you're wondering about the little girl, she was nominated by one of the younger society members, so I thought I'd humor them."
Pete was stunned.
Never had he thought that Mike would ever take a suggestion he made, but to go as low as taking the nomination to sacrifice such a young, innocent girl? That was just a whole new level of twisted; even for the head vampire himself.
Before he even had a chance to protest, a voice was suddenly heard.
"Ugh….where...where am I?" Kyle said as he comes out of the fog of sleep. "Stan? W-What's going on? A-Are you okay?"
"He hasn't woken up yet. That's the thing with tranquilizers. They affect everyone differently. Just means you're the first one," Mike sneered.
It was bizarre being on Mike's side of things. It likely got very repetitive, hearing so many people say pretty well the same thing. Pete sympathized with Kyle and felt guilt gnaw at him like a starving rat. He kept flashing back to when he woke up to hear Firkle crying and screaming…
He wondered what it meant to be the first one awake, but of course, he would never ask.
"T...The first one?" Kyle asks drowsily. His eye then happens to catch sight of Stan and Karen tied up next to him, and this seems to shock him awake. "O-Oh my god! Stan! W-What are you doing with him?! Let him go!"
Mike gave a dark chuckle. "I haven't done anything to him, yet. When he wakes up, however, he'll see you being drained drop by precious fucking drop of blood. And he will be powerless to stop it." He turned to the Goth and smirked. "Pete… prepare Kyle for the ritual, will you?"
Pete knew he didn't have a choice. He walked over to Kyle and took him from the bed frame. The redhead tried to get away from him, but the goth somehow managed to keep him from escaping. Perhaps it was fear of his own life. Mike constantly reminded him that he could be killed with ease, and he knew he wasn't bluffing. Bloodrayne attempted to challenge him. The result was one of the many thoughts that plagued his nightmares. Pete whispered to the victim, "I am so sorry…" but he doubted Kyle heard him over his screaming.
"Let go of me this instance!" Kyle shrieked as he squirmed in the other's grip.
Of course, Pete knew he couldn't do that. Instead, he forced the curly redhead into the chair, and holds him down as he straps him in place - making escape virtually impossible. At this, Kyle's struggling turns to tears, and he starts to have a break-down then and there.
"P-Please! Just let Stan and I go!" Kyle pleaded; tears beginning to run down his face. "Whatever joke you're playing on us, it isn't funny!'
It was torture for Pete to watch Kyle like this.
He couldn't help but think it must have been how he sounded when it was Firkle's life being taken. Before he sold his soul to the vampiric lucifer incarnate….
"Oh, poor delusional Kyle." Mike smirked as he shook his head slightly. "This is as far from a joke as it gets." The head vampire then strolled over to the Jewish boy, and leaned in as close to Kyle as he can get before giving the darkest smirk he can muster. "I'm going to kill you slowly, painfully, and your little athlete boyfriend will watch the whole thing. I'll personally make sure he sees the very light in your eyes fade out, and before he can even have a chance to mourn, I'll kill him too."
"You're...you're a monster." Kyle whispered out; the utter terror surging through him almost enabling him to speak at all. "You're the one behind the disappearances!"
"Glad we're now on the same page." Mike replied with the same smirk still on his face. He then took a short pause before backing off of Kyle slightly - only to turn his head toward Pete. "Minion, go get the supplies. It's time to begin."
"P… Pete...how could you do this?!" Kyle sobbed as the other obeyed his dark master without hesitation. "Isn't Stan your friend? Aren't I?" The goth fought back the urge to wail with the victim as he went back to Mike with the supplies. He closed his eyes as he handed over the syringe and tubing; the guilt making him feel as though he had rotted from the inside out and maggots were now crawling through his very blood. Kyle kept demanding an answer, and Pete was still at a loss for what to tell him.
Mike had a despicable smirk. "I was wondering that myself. Why did you pick them?"
"I…" He wanted to take everything back. He wanted to punch Mike in the face and hook him up to the bloodletting rig, to take Karen and Kyle and Stan as far away from this place as possible. He knew he wouldn't make it far with so many other vampire's near. The cult wouldn't let them escape under any circumstance.
He feared most of all that even if Mike died, someone would simply take up his work.
"Neither of us can hear you, Pete," Mike murmured. "You're gonna have to speak up. I've not cut your tongue out...yet."
He knew if he wanted to stay alive, he just had to give the answer Mike wanted to hear. Just act normal like Mysterion said. He steeled himself and took a breath, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat when he recalled that Firkle might have been in the same situation.
"...I have no friends, Kyle." Pete finally responded; his voice barely being kept steady. "Only targets, and the society."
The redhead's expression then turns to one of utter shock, "B-But...w-what about the other Goths? Don't you...still care about them?"
"I...I've outgrown them…" Pete replied, choking past the pain in his throat formed by the immense emotion. The truth was, Henrietta and Michael would always be dear to him, and in a different way, Stan would be too. The lie he uttered made it more painful because he feared that, deep down on some level had yet to access consciously…
It might be true.
"Well, you've gotten your answer," Mike stated, waltzing back up to Kyle, syringe in hand. "But I've grown bored of this idle chatter." The head vampire then sees that the raven-haired jock next to him was still knocked out cold, and gives a slight huff. "It seems your boy-toy really took to the tranquilizer. No matter. I'll just start my fun without him."
Then, before another word could be uttered, Mike drives the needle deep into Kyle's pale neck - causing the other to cry out in pain.
Blood then begins rushing through the tubes, and Pete couldn't help but get an eerie sense of deja vu as Mike let's the liquid drip into the waiting wine-glass he held between his fingers. After it was filled to the brim, the vampiric sociopath then lifts the glass to his lips, and takes a savoring sip. Although, this time, his usual smug look of satisfaction didn't follow the tasting.
In fact, his expression was one of disgust.
"What trickery is this?" Mike said; his nose scrunching slightly. "Why the hell is this blood so damn bitter?"
It was then Pete happened to recall something about Kyle that Stan had told him some time ago, and realized the answers. "M'Lord...he's a diabetic. According to Stan, it's not as bad as it could be, but it does limit his diet substantially. It may be nothing, but it could also be what makes his blood taste the way it does."
"Hm...possible." Mike muttered before pouring the blood that remained in his glass on the floor. "Nevertheless, his blood is useless to me now."
"But...sir...what else would we do with him?"
The head-vampire grins wickedly at the goths question, and chuckles eerily before replying. "Oh, we're still going to kill him if that's what you're asking. We're just going to have to use our...imaginations to do it."
Pete shuddered at how Mike used the word "imagination", and meanwhile, Kyle's sobs of fear were only growing more and more intense.
"P-Please...let me and Stan go." Kyle pleaded. "We won't tell anyone about this; I swear."
"Oh, sweetie, I'm sure you wouldn't." Mike cooed in an uncharacteristically sticky-sweet tone. His pale fingers then clasped onto Kyle's chin, and he forcibly tilted the others head upward - causing their eyes to lock. "But why would I take the chance?"
With his free hand, Mike grabbed the tubing, and with a swift motion, yanked it free of Kyle's neck. Frail skin tore with it, and the younger howled in agony - the knot in Pete's stomach twisting tighter and tighter every second. Without a moment's pause, the head vampire then slipped out a switchblade from his back pocket, (the goth immediately took notice it was Firkle's; a slight anger rising within him at the realization) and jabbed it into the already open wound left by the pulled out syringe. He then slowly dragged it across the boy's neck; leaving behind a huge gash in its wake and causing massive amounts of blood to come dripping down the Jewish child's neck.
Pete watched in horrified silence through the whole thing.
Before long, his life was over. Just as his eyes lost focus, he made eye contact with the Goth and sputtered out through blood, "I… hate… you."