Well here is the next piece. It's less Puckcentric and more backstory. I tend to find chapters in novels more enjoyable if they explore secondary characters. The smaller the role, the better. Usually. Well lets get this train wreck started! *does the splits*
As a reminder, this whole thing was unedited. Anyone willing to serve as a beta and follow my harsh and demanding deadlines (not really) email me. Reviews are love. Or hate. It can go either way.
Warning: cursing, death, death, and sad feelings in pants.
When Kurt left Lima in 1955, he thought the world would follow in the small town's footsteps.
He expected the city of Columbus to have the ethnic diversity of a Ku Klux Klan baby shower but was proven wrong. Arriving some time after midnight, Kurt found a young olive skinned bartender wiping the tops of tables at a deserted restaurant. Tall and humorless, the man exuded the silent strength of an oak tree. He even had the one quality Kurt sought out in his victims: muscle.
Later, after mouthfuls of blood and the panicked calls for help in Spanish had ended, Kurt let numbers guilt him to a corner. The man had been the fifth person he'd killed in the past week.
In the comforting darkness of a semi-trailer, surrounded by fearful migrant workers, Kurt thought that New York City would be as intolerant of fags as he knew Lima was. Again the world surprised Kurt when he walked by a bar in Greenwich Village after dark.
The Lady Peaceful was Kurt's first exposure to others like him.
Choosing to sit in a lonely corner of the bar , Kurt watched male couples kiss or chat intimately close. Young, old, or some in-between, the men seemed at peace in the privacy of the bar's walls.
A loud buxom woman with towering platinum blonde and a wrinkled silk dress stood alone on a stage at the far end of the room. She sang a tune that Kurt couldn't recognize but was sweet enough to make him smile.
It was a moment of lucidity in Kurt's new life where his mind didn't succumb to baser instincts or suicide. Was it suicide when you're already dead?
A couple, both seemingly Kurt's age, walked by him with their hands interlocked. They were the picture of peace and love that Kurt didn't think attainable for people like them.
Suddenly a life with love and no God didn't seem impossible.
Kurt saw the couple slip out of the bar and into the night. The click of a revolver followed by an echoing explosion outside shook him out of his trance. The bar patrons had varying reactions: screams, panic or curiosity from the braver men. The woman on stage paused for moment and continued to sing, as if cutting a song short due to gunfire would be scandalous.
Kurt's senses told him what awaited everyone else outside. The dead couple bleeding on the sidewalk, their fingers still woven together. Beyond the bricks and cars, Kurt could hear the boots of those responsible running furiously across moist pavement.
After that night, Kurt tore through the city of New York, one surviving victim claiming to have seen a pale blur before diamond hard finger tips punched through his chest. The body count had reached twenty four individuals before police had spotted a few shimmering flecks of what seemed like rock in the bloodless bodies. The presence of those glimmering flakes only complicated matters further.
Rattled representatives for the New York Police Department kept quiet, unable to prevent mass hysteria if they revealed to press the details of the murders. With every death that occurred, witnesses were coerced shut and efforts to find the "blur" tripled.
The killings finally ended when Kurt targeted a girl capable of breaking his arms.
A blonde haired student nurse with lips permanently set to pouty, Kate Evans lived a quiet life in Brooklyn. Responsibility and a lack of interest in men pushed Kate to live with her sister's family in a large three bedroom apartment.
She came upon her mantle as a Slayer late in life, or late relative to a Slayer anyway.
On her 20th birthday Kate was singled out by a well dressed man named Erik Singleton at a deli near her home. Handsome, sallow, and bit fey, Erik made Kate's skin crawl. She hated foreigners with a passion.
According to Erik, he belonged to an England based group called the Watcher's Council. Thanks to hoarded knowledge and techniques perfected by centuries of practice, the council was capable of finding and guiding the one individual in recorded history able to stand toe-to-toe against demons looking to fulfill evil stereotypes: the Slayer.
To Erik, the month long search for the new Slayer had finally ended with her. Kate grunted and avoided eye contact.
Rather than allow her to eat her ham and mozzarella birthday sandwich in peace, the Watcher pelted her with questions.
"Have you had any strange dreams in the last month?"
"Be good and bend this iron bar for me."
"Do you have an aversion to dust?"
"Have you encountered any strange activity in this city as of late?"
"Are you really going to finish that entire sandwich?"
"Dear god you eat like a fat fisherman."
Rather than stay and be questioned by a man with halitosis, Kate tossed the empty sandwich wrapper at his face and walked home.
The Watcher expected it though. He heard stories from elder council members who, in their youth, had found and guided a Slayer of their own. Initially, the subjects always rejected their role. But Watchers persevered thanks to a few simple sentences in the standard Watcher's manual :
"The Slayer, without the council's guidance, will be like a freefalling blade. It needs a firm hand in order to be effective."
By next morning, Kate would be found dead in an alley way by a lone rookie cop. In her hands, a pair of bleeding pale forearms as hard as diamond. Judging by the broken walls and shattered concrete beneath the officers feet, an epic struggle had occurred before she died.
The story leading up to the encounter between Kurt and Kate is unknown. Yet despite dying, Kate accomplished many things that night. She fulfilled her duty as a Slayer and taught Kurt Hummel humility and the fear of non-existence.
The vampire would fondly remember her for that.
Next chapter: Kurt meets the Glee Club. We find out what exactly happened to Quinn.