Author's note: This is the latest chapter as of 12/27. I will hopefully get another one up in a few days. Maybe sooner. Who knows?
"I don't know about this, guys. If mom finds out...I'm going to be in some major trouble," Sam rubbed the back of his head as he followed Edgar and Alan out of the front door. They were dressed in their usual commando gear, Edgar with his traditional bandanna and Alan with his green beret. For Sam's part, he'd just slipped on a Hawaiian shirt and some long shorts. He ignored the remarks Edgar made about his choice of clothing. What did the Frogs know about fashion? Clearly they still hadn't gotten the message that they missed the 60s by about two decades.
"Listen, Sam, we've got a duty to protect this city. There's no telling how many bloodsuckers are out there on the boardwalk, now that we've been gone for so long. We're just making a statement tonight, letting them know we're here and we're ready to do what we have to," Edgar rounded on him, as Sam gently closed and locked the front door.
"Truth, justice, and the American way...remember?" Alan added, stepping up behind his brother and crossing his arms for emphasis.
Sam rolled his eyes. There was a reason he hadn't been too upset when they left Santa Carla. Sure, when he was trying to save his brother from ravenous monsters, their spiels and knowledge about the undead had been really useful. But besides comics, they really didn't have that much else to talk about. They were fairly limited conversationalists.
"Well, if gramps finds out we took his car...again...You're taking the heat. Got it? I don't want him to skin and stuff me," Sam shook his head. Grandpa Emerson had made veiled threats every so often when he caught Sam looking at his car too long, after their first 'joyride'.
Edgar snorted, snatching the keys from out of Sam's hands and turning around to head towards the garage.
"Is he serious?" Sam looked at Alan, frowning.
"Are you serious?!" He directed his shout at Edgar, jogging to catch up with him. It was a wonder he didn't wake mom or grandpa up in the process.
"You almost drove us off a cliff last time. I'm driving." Edgar informed him, grabbing the bottom of the garage door and slowly pulling it up.
"Yeah, well that was partly your fault," Sam snapped, walking around to the passenger side only to get a glare in response.
"What?" Sam asked, looking down at the handle to the passenger door.
"I called shotgun," Alan stepped up behind him and nudged Sam away.
"No you didn't!" Sam protested.
"Yes I did, when we were eating."
"You were mumbling with a mouthful of half-chewed noodles, that doesn't count." Sam glared back and forth from Edgar to Alan. But he was outnumbered.
By the time they'd all settled into the car and Edgar had begun to pull away, Sam was grumpily sitting in the back seat with his arms crossed.
"So, what does your brother's bike look like?" Alan turned back to look at Sam.
"What?" Sam raised an eyebrow. What did that have to do with anything?
"You said you thought he didn't nail blondie all the way, then he went missing the next morning, right?" Edgar asked, directing his eyes forward while the engine purred into life.
Sam really didn't like this line of questioning. Were they seriously going to try to find Michael?
"Guys, he's been gone for a year. No calls. No nothing. I haven't even seen his bike since he left. Don't you think I'd have seen him by now if he was still in Santa Carla?"
Alan shrugged, turning back to face forward. "Maybe he doesn't want you to find him," he said ominously, fingering a sharpened wooden stake tucked under his jacket.
Not for the first time. Not for the second. Not even for the hundredth time...Sam seriously wondered why he still talked to these guys. Vampires being real aside. Sometimes they sounded like they were just nuts.
"If he is here. And...if he is a shit-sucking vampire...you're not staking my brother, got it?" Sam warned.
"It's what he'd want, Sam." Edgar said, glancing over at his brother and half-smirking. "I mean, if Alan was a vampire, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"...What?" Alan glanced at Edgar, his bad-ass act dropping for just a split second.
"And if it happened to me...I'd want you to to be the one holding the stake, bro. Because I love ya." Edgar patted Alan's shoulder.
"...I'd stake you in a heartbeat too, Eddie." Alan smirked, patting his brother's shoulder in turn.
Sam looked back and forth between both of them and shivered. "You guys are real weird sometimes, you know that?" Seriously, what kind of brothers talked about killing each other as if it were an endearing family gesture?!
"Truth, justice, and the American way, Sam." Alan repeated their mantra.
"Ed, the boardwalk is that way..." Sam leaned forward pointing to his left.
"...Right. I knew that." Edgar frowned, abruptly stopping the car and spinning the wheel.
"Hey, watch it!" Sam protested, leaning into the side of the car to brace himself. And they thought he was a crazy driver?!
Marko checked and double-checked his supplies. Two sets of spare clothes for Paul and Dwayne, complete with some of their old jackets. Got it. Paul and Dwayne's ashes in two small boxes for easy transport. Done. Massive bonfire on the beach with enough beer and drugs to kill a large elephant. Check. Dozens of unwitting guests invited to said bonfire...that part was tough, actually, but he'd managed to pull it off. Offering a sizable portion of Paul's primo stash had really won some of the local gangs over. Never mind if he got mad about it later when he was 'alive' again. Paul smoked too much anyway.
Marko smirked, stacking the boxes and clothing together and glancing over at Thorn, who was pacing the lobby excitedly. The hell-hound was just as excited as him, practically feeding off of his emotions.
"You got everything?" David called out, stepping into the room and dusting off his coat sleeves.
"Where's your shirt?" Marko raised an eyebrow, mentally noting that Dwayne would probably think David was trying to copy his look. The darker-haired vampire didn't talk much, but he was awfully prideful of being the only member of their group who kept his abs on full display at any and all times.
"...I don't want to talk about it..." David frowned, kneeling down to scratch behind Thorne's ears when the hell-hound approached him.
Michael appeared from behind David, holding a needle in his teeth as he adjusted his pants. A long blue thread hung down from the needle, and it looked like he was trying to stitch the top closed. Marko smirked and bit at the thumb of his right glove. It wasn't hard to figure out what they'd been doing. Michael's irritated glances at David told the whole story.
"So the baby isn't coming?" Marko teased, gathering up the boxes of Dwayne and Paul's remains and passing them off to Michael after he finished stitching up the top of his jeans. For his part, Marko decided to carry the clothes. They were much lighter, and he didn't want to accidentally spill any ashes on his jacket. It had taken him way too long to get the stains out when he'd been nearly killed last year, and he wasn't going to go through the heartbreak again of stitching new patches.
"I don't think she even knows who we are," Michael sighed miserably, looking up at the cave ceiling. She was deep enough in the sunken hotel that her screams weren't ear-shattering, but every so often they could all hear the occasional echo in the lobby.
David rolled his eyes, lighting up a cigarette and tucking it between his lips.
"So are we going, or what? Moonlight's burning boys, and I wanna get this done tonight."
The fire was a monster. It was like Marko had dragged up half a forest just to get it going. There was no chance that anyone on the boardwalk didn't see the orange glow from the beach. If Santa Carla had for any measure of time begun to fall behind as the murder capital of the world, Michael was sure tonight would put it in first place again for good.
"You ready for this?" Marko nudged Michael as the younger vampire set the boxes of ashes on the ground and crossed his arms. They were standing just far enough for the bonfire not to be seen by the myriad party-goers, but close enough to feel the intense heart.
"No," Michael grumbled when David stepped up to put an arm around his shoulders.
"Relax, Mikey, this is what our nights are all about. The party. The thrill. The blood. You just gotta admit you like it just as much as we do. For once...just once...try not to be such a whiny bitch." David laughed, jumping back when Michael tried to take a swipe at him. His laughter forced smoke to curl out of his mouth in a rushed jet from around the cigarette still safely tucked in the corner of his lips.
"Watch the temper, Mikey..." David warned playfully. He'd fuck him right then and there if he had to...to prove a point, of course.
"You think that's enough? Enough blood-bags?" Marko licked at his teeth. He hadn't waited too long to shift into his vampiric form. He'd made sure there were plenty of guests for them all, but the monster inside was always paranoid there'd never be enough blood. Especially when he was excited, like tonight. This was going to be one wild party...
"It's plenty," David informed him, shifting as well.
"So...how are we supposed to do this?" Michael nudged the boxes he'd set at his feet, stubbornly refusing to change with the other two. He'd put it off as long as he could, for the sake of being defiant. But it wasn't easy. When the others shifted, something in his veins always seemed to spark to life and needle at the back of his mind until he gave in. But he'd hold it off for now.
"It's like a Chia Pet, Mikey. Slit some throats and then pour the blood in the box. Boom. Instant resurrection," Marko laughed, hiding under the shadow of a nearby tree when the sound drew the attention of a couple making out by the bonfire. For David's part, he was safely turned away from them. It wouldn't do to alert the sacrificial lambs too soon before they were really ready to party down with them.
"That is nothing like a Chia Pet." Michael rolled his eyes.
"Enough talk...let's dig in," David hissed, taking to the sky and diving towards the party. Marko wasn't too long to follow. Pretty soon, laughter and song melted into shrieks and whimpers. Michael wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. 'Don't change. Don't change...don't change...' He mentally focused, though the claws had already descended. He was still thinking his mantra when he lashed out at the first escapee of the night and brought a tattooed throat to his mouth.
The blood lust won out, like it always did. Just like David.