Elevator 3, Bromley Marks

Frankie Dalton had honestly no idea what he had been summoned for. It was unusual for him to be requested in singular presence by the big boss and the last time it had occurred was when his daughter had been apprehended.

He hadn't spent a thought on the incident in her cell for the past two days. He had been occupied with an irregular routine of rounding up the filth residing in the sewers of the city, which wasn't exactly a simple undertaking. He knew it was necessary but to spend his working hours in the canals under the roads, catching the fleabags by waving some bloody meat in their faces, wasn't what he'd joined the army for. Those things went crazy at the smallest whiff of blood and the rest of his division had trouble getting them bound in the electrical restraints.

He couldn't imagine the majority of the population dissolving into such insane bats in less than a few months. According to the stony look on his brother's face, whenever he commented on the restlessness grabbing hold of the people as the rumors about this blood-starvation spread, it was true though.

He had briefly wondered if he would be affected, but brushed off the thought shortly thereafter. He worked for Charles Bromley, the most influential business tycoon in a hundred mile radius. A man who seemed to confide in him more than any other of his guards recently. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the man kept his employees well fed. He sat right at the source of it, really. He definitely wouldn't starve while hired by Bromley.

His mind meandered back to the girl as the doors to the penthouse office opened. He half-expected her to be sitting on the sofas that he stood before now, but she was not present. Still in her holding cell he guessed. Her father however, stood by the window, observing the rising commotion on the streets below. Darkness had set in a few minutes ago. Life was beginning to fill the city.

The soldier dared to move across the room silently, since the other man had yet to acknowledge his presence, until he stood before the sharp-edged, black desk. He hovered there with his arms by his sides save for the one that what still in that inconvenient sling and a blank expression on his face.

After several lacking heartbeats of silence in the room, the older man turned around to face the visitor, his face etching into an approving smile.

"Frankie, my boy" he nodded, maneuvering his body onto the heavy armchair that stood behind the desk, "I hope I'm not deterring you from your duties"

"No, Sir" he replied, puzzled by the conversational tone that Bromley seemed to be striking up more and more recently with him. His face remained perfectly intact though. "But I'd like to inquire why you had me called."

"Yes" came the answer and Bromley leaned back in his chair, linking his fingers together on the edge of the desk. "I need you to complete a confidential task for me. In fact, I'm sure you'll rather like your new position"

The soldier stood motionless, awaiting the bombshell drop.

"As I asked of you a few days ago, you performed the transformation of Alison," the man started, twiddling with one of countless platinum pens as he performed his speech, "And you have done so successfully. However, she refuses to accept her new condition and attempted to poison herself by drinking her own blood yesterday"

That was a small shock but it came as no surprise to Frankie. She had made her abhorrence of his kind and her future very clear. Drink her own blood? A gradual and painful way to die, if that was really the path she chose. However, all these statements brought him no further towards an answer as to why he had been called. Was he to be punished in some form for her foolishness?

"As it is, I obviously cannot leave her alone for a moment until she stops this nonsense," Bromley continued, a crease of irritation becoming visible on his otherwise smooth forehead, "She has been forcibly fed and her body cleansed of any toxins in the medical ward but I don't want her to stay there. So," he rose from his seat with an air of great self-satisfaction, "I'll have her moved to my home. You will see that she arrives safely"

Frankie felt the foreign urge to raise his eyebrows at that. This piece of news was the reason he'd been called up here? To be told he needed to escort the man's daughter to his private mansion? However, his exasperation at this fact was quickly overturned by the words that followed.

"I've chosen you to keep her controlled 24/7 so she does not find any more chances to enact these suicidal tendencies. You will be given board at my home and I expect a report of her behavior every day. You will be with her or watching over her at all times of day. I don't want any more accidents"

His job description ended with flourish and it took the young man a few seconds to understand this new situation. This had just hit him so unexpectedly that he fumbled for the right reply.

"Yes, Sir" he pressed out for good measure, "But why would you give me this task, Sir? I'm sure there are more capable people who can handle your daughter. I'm no therapist. My brother would be more suited for this than me."

Modesty was always good and right now he meant it. There was no way in hell that he could get that girl to lie down on a sofa and tell him what was on her mind in order to reform her attitude towards life. Neither was there any reason for him to have to undergo such extreme boredom.

He was a soldier, an army-bred, disciplined man who feasted on action, not sentimental exchanges with a vampire who simply wanted to revert to her human form or die. Realistically, it was the latter that she wanted. Why did he have to convince her to stop killing herself? Just how was he meant to do that?

Bromley simply waved off his arguments with a flick of the flashy pen in his direction. "Not at all. I wouldn't appoint you if you weren't capable and, no offence to him; but Edward would not be the man for the job. He would sympathize with her. I can't have that kind of emotional attachment if he is to get her to come to her senses. He is needed here. No, you two are both going to get along just fine. Since you are her creator, I think she is very much likely to listen to you"

"Sir," the young man protested, "I'm sure it would be more beneficial for her to appoint a proper caretaker…"

"Alison is perfectly capable of taking care of herself," Bromley frowned at him, "All I need you to do is watch over her and ensure she feeds once a day. There are rations in the house. There is also a concierge who comes in twice a week, so really you don't need to take care of anything. Though," he hesitated with narrowed eyes, "if I didn't know better, I'd get the impression that you are not up for the task, Dalton"

The last phrase was accentuated with a raised eyebrow that had Frankie growing rigid with frustration. No, he was not scared of this situation. Spending time with that adamant girl was just not on the top of his to-do list. But then again, the prospect of free, plentiful amounts of blood every day just for babysitting was inviting.

Pros versus Cons.

"Your daughter is in goods hands, Sir," he declared, nodding obligingly towards the vampire who, in turn, threw him an overly relieved look.

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you. I'll be expecting a lack of crisis when I come home tomorrow. Dismissed, Frankie"

Without giving further objections, he departed the office, thoroughly riled up inside. What had just transpired changed his job description quite a bit. It wasn't that he minded staying in the same house with a teenage girl, that wasn't the issue. It wasn't even the fact that he'd possibly have to put up with some bitchy attitude and crazy antics of her to end her existence. It was the matter of fact that he had to keep watch over her every single minute of the day. No a single free hour. There would always be focus on her. His sleeping hours would be extremely limited – completely circulating around hers. He hadn't even been told how long exactly he'd have to keep this job up for.

The elevator rushed downwards, back to the military and security levels in the basement. He collected himself, giving nothing away as he weaved through the men walking past and headed to the chief's office. The discussion was short, brief and strictly technical and mere ten minutes later, Frankie found himself standing in the underground parking lot of Bromley Marks. The girl hadn't been brought in yet and so he busied himself with checking the vehicle he'd been assigned.

He didn't react as footsteps on tarmac approached him and only when a male's voice questioned him for further instructions, did he look up. Alison Bromley's defiant golden gaze caught his and she stared with utmost contempt at him. He barely managed to drag his eyes off her stony expression and focus on the guard's inquiry. Thankfully, the driver headed towards them at the same moment, a weighty man of about forty human years, and waved his hand in direction of the car. A clear call to leave.

The girl, whose hands were shackled in front of her stomach, was ushered into the rover's backseat and the guard pressed a key into Frankie's hands and left.

The car ride was tense, to say the least. While the driver's human personality had obviously not been affected majorly by his transition, which made him blabber about all kinds of subjects on the ride, the two in the back sat in silence. They did not share a glance or a word of greeting but sat stiffly, staring in their respective directions. After about twenty minutes of this procedure, the chatterbox finally took a hint and flicked the switch of the radio and tuned in on a station that played some road music.

Once, Frankie felt certain that the girl was looking his way with a glare that could easily have heated up the atmosphere by a few degrees. When he snapped his eyes over to her for a split second though, in an attempt to catch her off guard, she had her attention on the lit buildings outside that they were passing. He felt foolish in the face of this paranoia creeping up on him.

Had she been watching him or not? Was it even important? It's really not like he had anything to fear from her. For physical damage she was too meek, too finely built to be of real threat and she seemed obsessed with the idea of pretending he was air, which was fine by him. She certainly wasn't aggressive, even though he'd heard quite different stories from the man who had informed him of Bromley's requesting him.

He'd described something of a little fury and how she had virtually sprung at her father like a wild cat. Looking at her now, with her new vampire appearance, he really couldn't imagine that flawless composure breaking and her blood-crazed body hurling at her prey. It was something that was probably a new natural instinct to her but the image didn't quite reach him.

The house loomed into view, one of the vampire-modified white mansions that lined the prestigious districts. Multiple windows were now shutter-free and there were late neighbors leaving their homes to embark the journey to the inner city for work, school or shopping. The nighttime bustle was emerging, even here in the far suburbs. The soldier slid out of the car and took his time moving around the other side to let his prisoner out. With a curt nod to the driver who had retrieved his duffel bag from the trunk, he applied a hint of pressure to the girl's back. She stiffened under his momentary touch but headed forwards anyway.

The place was an eye catcher, inside and out. The white wood coating the outside of the house, combined with the precisely trimmed carpet of grass, created an image of perfectionism. The interior was no exception. Everything seemed spotless and on first sight, it became apparent that every piece had its place. The only noise was the barely audible ticking of a clock in the living room. The bottom floor was open with the kitchen, living room and dining area merging into a wide space. The hall gave way to a double staircase that curved towards and then along the back wall of the house and combined into a single stairway at the top of the second floor. The house screamed wealth.

Spreading around the bottom floor were single, dark, wood doors, leading to what he presumed to be guest rooms and bathrooms – at least six of them. One of them was surely assigned to him for his stay here. The girl seemed oblivious to his marvel at the building. She was busy making her way up the staircase, still completely ignoring his existence, running a hand over the smooth banister in remembrance.

It had been years since she'd set foot into this house and it had altered in this time. It appeared less homely and comfortable to her. There were no familiar sounds or smells to welcome her home. The only constant were the walls themselves. Even the furniture had been replaced or rearranged. Her favorite armchair, which she'd spent hours reading in during childhood, had given way to a nondescript leather couch.

The despair that she wanted so desperately to resurface, kept bubbling underneath the exterior, pushed back by that invisible barrier. Vampires did not feel the way humans did. Emotions weren't a natural integrated part of life. The human fragments left of the person before the change, were locked deep inside and only surfaced in times of extreme stress. Even joy wasn't exactly a feeling that showed in the faces of the vampire population. How could anybody choose not to live with feelings? How did people even understand another when emotions could not be carried through them apart from falsely imitated ones?

Her feet ascended the stairs automatically, the movements coming to her easily. Twenty steps until the first flight reached the wall, another ten steps until the top floor spread out before her. Another ten and she paused in the frame of her old room. She felt empty as she looked over the familiar velvet duvet on a bed, the scratched, simple desk that was pressed flush against the wall underneath the window and the wardrobe that had lost its handle years ago. Memories and happy times had inhabited this room and some were still preserved in these objects. It was too bad she couldn't enjoy them.

Her hands travelled over the texture of the cover blanket, for the first time appreciating her newfound expanded senses. These eyes could see the tiny fuzzy bits sticking out of the shades of blue that were virtually undetectable in the darkness. This was going to be her life. Back in the same house she'd lived her human childhood in, with a person who had brutally forced the change on her and a father whose only care was for her safety but who could not care less about her happiness. She needed to find a way to get out of the city and fast. Good behavior would only get her so far. She had to fight her way out of the claws of her only parent and the guard dog he'd hired.

He'd appeared in the doorway behind her and as she twisted her head around, she saw that he'd brought up her belongings. His posture was straight and even though his eyes were hard, she felt that he was at a loss of what to do now. Keeping watch over the employer's daughter was not something he did regularly. She rose and took the bag from him, which he extended to her silently. If this had been a normal situation where she was not a prisoner in her own house, she might have appreciated his presence.

All she wanted was to be left alone. Especially by him. Or did she want some sort of conversation, interaction, anything really? She'd been left to herself for almost a week now and the few words she'd managed to exchange with the doctors had not been constructive. Neither had screaming at her dad. Having a decent talk with somebody, even if it was a stoic soldier, would be a relief from everything she'd been going through. A shred of normality.

She placed the bag on the bed and sunk down beside it, keeping her eyes on the floor. She sensed he hadn't moved from his position but she could not bring herself to look him in the eye. Her courage had somewhat deserted her after she'd completed the transition. She knew he wouldn't hurt her but having experienced that he could and did, well, it changed her reckless perspective. Her father may have given him orders but she couldn't be sure what exactly his liberties were.

She cleared her throat subtly. "So, is this how it's going to be? You're here to prevent me from doing anything terrible to myself and I'm meant to sit quietly and be well-behaved?"

She could see him transfer his weight to his right leg, shifting as he confirmed her question with a quiet, "Yes"

It was an answer that indicated he had nothing else to say to her. Any human she'd ever known would have made a joke or attempted to lighten the situation by at least adding a comforting phrase to it.

She threw him a dirty look. He overlooked it and instead stationed himself next to her desk, watching the dark lawn and rows of houses below, giving a very good impression of being ignorant of her. She wasn't fooled. Of course he was listening to her every move. She huffed and started unpacking her treasured backpack that had lasted her for almost five years now. Not the easiest task with hands cuffed together but she needed something to do.

"You don't need to flutter around me the whole night. I'm not running off and I'm not going to do anything suicidal"

"Your previous actions are totally contrary to what you are saying" he replied in a monotone fashion.

She took a deep breath to calm the sudden urge to injure some part of him. Instead, she tore out the clothing from her bag and flung it into the wardrobe. "Maybe that's because everything that has happened to me in the past few days has only caused me pain. It's not so hard to believe that I want to be left alone by all you leeches"

He glanced at her then, his golden eyes bright with mockery. "You seem to forget that you are just the same"

"Not by choice," she hissed, clutching a toothbrush in her hand, "And it would have never been this way if I had made the decision. I am nothing like you people"

The biting emphasis did not have an effect on him, even with the end of a toothbrush being pointed threateningly close at his throat. The golden gaze sized her up coolly before he gently pressed a fingertip against the plastic end of the object and pushed it away, taking care to place and obvious tap against the metal cuffs. "It'll take me less than three seconds to be back in your room if you try anything. You're right, you're nothing like us. And that's why you won't be able to escape"

Then he sidestepped her and was gone from her room before she had time to object. Not that she would have. The sudden chill that had crept across her skin at the warning left her eager for the solitude she had been subjected to for the past week. She decided that talking to him was not on her list any longer.