Dancing in the Dark - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

I come awake slowly. For awhile I just lay in my bed, staring at the wall. It's nearly 7.30 in the evening, and I need to get up and go to work. I do eventually, although I end up being late and pissing my boss off. I work in a club, and I spend the whole night serving preposterously drunk kids delicious beverages with ridiculous names. I get home as the sun is rising, and I'm too depressed to bother staying up at all. I go to sleep hoping that when I wake my other job will provide me with some entertainment.

It does. When I check my cell I have a message giving me the name of some kind of business and the name of a person. Finally, someone for me to kill.

The message cheers me up enough that I put the radio on as I get ready this evening. I have the late shift at the club tonight, so I can start working on my new project immediately. When I'm ready, I give myself a brief, but critical appraisal in my bedroom's full length mirror. I don't really like what I see, and decide that I'll have to go shopping for a new look after work tonight. I'd love to change everything about how I look - even my face - but I'll have to settle for just changing my clothes, because plastic surgery is not an option for me.

Tonight I don’t get to unleash. Tonight is all about reconnaissance. I have several hours before I have to get to the club where I work. I don’t need to work there. I have more money than I know what to do with. Sometimes I like to give it all away and start again. Not right now though. I can feel something coming, and I want to have it there just in case.

I find out when I get to the business specified that my target is a vampire. Yes, they’re real, no I’m not one. Yes, other monsters are real too, and no, I’m not any of those either. I just happen to have the sheer misfortune of being immortal. But at least I’m still human. I think.

She’s a bad, bad vampire. Her name is Sofia, and she runs a brothel. Her prostitutes are not there voluntarily. I don’t care. I don’t care about helping them. I just want it to rain blood. I don’t know why I’ve been contracted to kill this vampire. Again, I don’t care. I just want to unleash my frustrations on someone.

My reconnaissance consists of me going to said brothel and observing. It’s set up as an old style tavern, with cul de sacs where patrons can take their victims for a few private moments. There are gambling tables, and I set myself up at one of them. It’s a dice game I don’t know how to play. I don’t care. I sit there and observe and lose money. I lose enough money that Sofia comes over to meet me and offer me a free whore for the night. I ask for a man, but she says in a voice like velvet, “Oh, I don’t have any of those in stock my dear.”

I leave several thousand dollars poorer and go to my bartending job. I feel marginally better when I go to bed after my shopping trip. I dream of the hell I will unleash in all my new clothes. I wake up fully hard and have to jack off in the shower. That hasn’t happened for a while.

I go to the brothel again tonight. This time I don’t lose as much money, and Sofia doesn’t take any notice of me. It’s never a good idea to garner too much attention. I have a good idea of the layout of the place now. I have targets in my mind, who I should take out first, who I don’t have to worry about, who might unintentionally get in my way. And how I will corner my vampire target and take my sweet time with her.

I like killing vampires. They’re so arrogant about their supposed immortality that they forget that they can actually die, and it’s fun to watch them realize it. I’m not super strong or fast or anything. I mean, I have skills. I just don’t have supernatural skills. The only thing I have that gives me the ability to do this job is my inability to die. And trust me, I really can’t. I've tried many times to kill myself. People have tried many times to kill me. I've even been decapitated a few times. My body just pulls back together like all my parts are magnetized and becomes whole again after a few hours. Sometimes I've had limbs ripped off and destroyed. They just grow back after a couple of days. One time I was pulled apart and buried in pieces. It took around six months for my limbs to force their way through the barriers around them to rejoin with me. I don’t like to think about that time.

I don’t have to work at the club for the next two nights, so I go to my armoury. It’s just a storage locker. I like to hide my things in plain sight. I don’t even have a quality lock on the door. People see that and assume that there’s nothing of value in it, so they leave it alone.

I scan my various toys and pick myself an outfit to wear. I really want to go with leather, because it really does look badass, but I settle on an outfit reminiscent of what a S.W.A.T team would wear. There’s lots of Kevlar. I don’t mind being shot, but I do mind having to dig out the bullets afterwards. So, Kevlar.

I run through some different kinds of kata’s in my gear to be sure it still fits properly. It does. I spend the rest of the night training and practicing and planning. Tomorrow night I’ll kill the bad vampire and collect my reward. I wonder what it will be this time. That’s a detail I leave to my agent. They might give me a painting maybe, or a sculpture. I like art. It’s useless, but good to look at. I dream again of the horror to come as I sleep the day away.

***

I look around the brothel. My left arm is over by the bar and I wander over and pick it up, holding it to the ragged stump. The flesh knits together quickly, but the bone will take about half an hour. The bad vampire managed to break it and then rip it off before I knocked her out with a blow to the side of the head.

My arm really hurts and I'm kind of dizzy from blood loss, but I’m so used to ignoring pain by now that it doesn't really bother me. I grab my unconscious victim by her golden braid and drag her upstairs. Frightened whores shriek at me as I pass them, but I ignore them. They won’t try anything but escape after the way I tore up the establishment. There are bodies everywhere. The security and patrons put up a hell of a fight, but when the person who's attacking you just won't die, you don't really have much of a chance. Blood covers the walls and the ceiling, dripping occasionally with sick plops. The metallic smell of all that blood fills my nose and I breathe deeply. It’s one of the only things that make me feel alive these days.

I find an empty room and drag my captive in there. I tie her using a thin metal cord I brought with me for this purpose. She won’t be able to struggle out of it. I wait for her to wake up and for my arm to fully heal before I begin the torture.

When I leave the vampire has screamed, threatened and begged for her life. Her blood soaks into the mattress underneath her and her organs are hanging from the ceiling, a sick kind of mobile that I found quite amusing. Turns out vampires are a lot more alive than everyone thinks. Of course, I’ve known this for years, but I always like to confirm it when I get the chance to put one down. By confirm it, I mean I remove various organs and cut and bleed the vampire until they can’t take it anymore. They invariably go insane before I finally crush their lungs and remove their heart.

A vampire can live through the removal of all organs except their heart, lungs and brains. Once you remove those things they’re dead. They still need oxygen after all. But you can do a lot of damage to them before those things stop working. A vampire has incredible healing abilities. Obviously not as good as mine, but incredible nonetheless. I like to play with them.

But my fun is over now. The sun is only around two hours away from rising and I need to collect my reward. I take the vampires braid with me. It’s no longer a pretty blond thing. It’s now a ratty, blood soaked mess. I take it anyway, it’s what I need to claim success.

I head back to my apartment and shower and change quickly. I’m feeling better now that I’ve killed something. I check the address for the exchange and then make my way there. I snort when I arrive. It’s a dark alley, the back of an underground casino I occasionally visit. If they think they can confirm the kill and then get rid of me, they’re in for a nasty surprise.

I wait as the minutes tick down to the predetermined time. I’m bored with waiting, so I play with the braid in its plastic baggie, squishing it and watching the blood ooze out and then get soaked back up again. It’s such a fascinating game that I don’t notice my contact has approached me.

He’s male, I can tell that. He’s undernourished to the point of emaciation, and is filthy. He has a backpack slung over one grimy shoulder. It’s clean, so obviously doesn't belong to him. He clears his throat and holds his hand out for the baggie. I toss it to him, and it falls to the ground. The guy reaches down slowly to pick it up as if the movement causes him great pain. He studies the bag and I see his nostrils flare. Fangs glint in the darkness and I realize he’s a vampire. Since when are vampires dirty emaciated hobo’s?

The vampire shrugs the backpack off his shoulder and hands it to me. He’s staring at the ground like he’s afraid to look at me or something. What the fuck? Vampires are arrogant and hostile. They’re not frightened and shy like this guy. I’m confused. I stare at him until his stick thin arm shakes and he drops the bag.

“Is the payment not acceptable?” he asks in a quiet voice. I don’t know what’s in the fucking backpack, so I don’t know. I can’t take my eyes off of him though. He’s filthy, and skinny, and in obvious terrible health, despite being a vampire. And he’s fucking gorgeous. Or has the potential to be. I think under the filth his hair is black, but it might be a dark brown. His eyes are very light though, blue or green I think. His hollowed cheeks show high, sculptured cheekbones and a straight nose. His lips are full and succulent despite his wasted appearance. He’s tall, maybe six or seven inches taller than me. I want him.

That feeling surprises me so much that I take an involuntary step backwards. I haven’t wanted anyone specific for a long, long time. His eyes flick to my face with a look of concern, and that’s enough to have me stepping forward again. I pick up the backpack, but don’t look inside. I consider him for a moment and wonder if he’ll come home with me if I ask. But no, he’s already backing away now that I have the backpack in my possession. I watch as he disappears from sight, and then I head back home.