| The harbinger. |
[07 Sep 2006|12:55am] |
3:12am, and the GreenRoom Nightclub stood empty, save for the solitary demon sitting at the bar with a bottle of Jim Beam and the tumbler which he used to drink it from. Draped over the stool beside him was his blazer, and around his neck hung both ends of his untied orange necktie. In the space around him there was only silence, and behind the bar there was an absence of bartender.
From between his ruby lips dangled a lit cigarette, and sleepily the demon pulled one last drag before he removed it from his mouth and snuffed it out in the ashtray. He blinked his reddened eyes which were lined with dark circles from sleepless nights, and he'd more than likely spend another night by the phone waiting for it to ring.
The contents of his glass were finished in a gulp, and Lorne stood to head upstairs. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with the hollow shell of Meredith Underhill.
Black streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks, and her oddly black eyes were reddened, flat, and empty. Dried blood still on her mouth, the brunette's pale face was marked with cuts and a very large bruise. She said nothing, and her expression was devoid of life and eerily haunted.
But Lorne didn't seem to notice; He was only happy to see her. "Oh, Mere," he cried upon first glimpse, and threw his arms around her shoulders and held onto her. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now."
Meredith said nothing. She didn't even move when the demon embraced her. She remained rigid and lifeless. Lorne held onto her for a few more moments before he released his grasp. His tired eyes examined her, and his hand moved to her face to lightly touch where she'd been hurt. "What happened to you?" he asked her, "Did Levi do this to you? Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
The brunette still said nothing. She continued to stare at the demon with a sleepy and emotionless expression. But Lorne pressed on. He pushed her hair out of her face and frowned when he used the pad of his thumb to gingerly wipe away the blood on her mouth. "Do you know what happened to Elian?" he asked her finally.
Meredith closed her eyes and bent her head down. When she opened her eyes, she was looking at her hands. She was still holding the sandal she had found on the warehouse floor. She held it up and handed it to Lorne.
Confused, Lorne received the shoe and examined it. The leather buckle was stained with dark red blood. When he looked back up at Meredith, he understood.
"I couldn't save him," Meredith whispered.
Her words hit Lorne like a wreckingball, and he stumbled backwards slightly, as though his body had forgotten it had bones.
With the sandal still clutched in his hands, the demon fell to his knees and cried.
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| The inexplicable. |
[07 Sep 2006|01:21am] |
Randy Broughton barrelled down the highway in his '84 Plymouth. Like any man with the body of a late twenty something dead guy in his trunk, Randy was agitated, impatient, and his behavior was incredibly sketchy. At every light, his hands figeted, and he couldn't get to his destination fast enough. He had to ditch the corpse as fast as he could. This was the last favor he'd ever do for Levi, that was for sure. The last thing Randy wanted was to be caught with a dead guy in his trunk.
His cellphone, which sat on the passenger seat beside his handgun, began to ring and it disrupted the silence in his vehicle. "Yeah, what," he barked into it. "No, I don't know where Levi is. He fucked off and ditched me. Asshole was supposed to come help me get rid of the body. This kid weighs more than he looks. I just threw him into my trunk and now I'm taking him out to the desert. Meet me there."
He snapped the phone shut and tossed it on his seat. The car careened through traffic down the Boulder Highway until it fired out of the city limits and into the desert. He drove for two hours until he turned off onto an old abandoned dirt road. Thirty minutes down that road, a man in a white pickup truck was waiting for him. Randy got out of the car and the man approached the vehicle.
"I got the kid right here," Randy told him.
"Good, I got the hole ready. Let's go, hurry up."
Randy nodded and opened the trunk. Both men stood and looked inside in confusion. The trunk was empty, and Elian was gone.
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| Bleeding the Behemoth |
[07 Sep 2006|08:25pm] |
Wolfram & Hart.
Few entities in the course of history could claim the success that law firm enjoyed, when it came to influence and power. Its reach was as widespread as it was long, and its power wielded with a ruthless hand. What their lawyers did was perfectly ‘legal‘, but the work yielded incredibly devastating results.
It has been said that power corrupts. It is more accurate to say that power attracts the corrupted, while virtuous beings use other means to arrive at desired ends. The branch office in Las Vegas was certainly no stranger to the manipulation of the legal system. Nor was it a novice when it came to courtroom battles. Its lawyers were experts at wielding their employer’s extreme might in the most corrupt city of the world‘s great superpower.
The atmosphere in the expansive building was one of business. VIPs reclined behind polished wood desks, making phone calls, eyeing the short-skirted legs of receptionists who typed up their memos. Others milled around in high heels, looking important, being efficient, an air of urgency about them as they conferred. They held private meetings behind closed doors. They fucked in the copy room. They shook hands, patted backs, and congratulated themselves on the hard work that they did.
Clients were everywhere. They waited their turns for consultations, appointments, and confirmations that any sort of trouble they were in could quickly go away. For a fee. The size of it was directly related to the size of the trouble they were in. Most were old clients, well versed in what Wolfram and Hart could do. Some were naive, too wide-eyed at the enormity of the place to realize what they signed on the dotted line.
For the most part, everyone smiled. Life was good, profitable, and it got better every day.
Rome was at its peak; proud, terrible, and mighty as it looked for any and every chance to prove it.
[Private Thread]
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| Curriculum Vitae |
[07 Sep 2006|11:33pm] |
There were three levels to Fang Noir. The owner's office was on the third; a spacious, even luxuriously futuristic mixture of metal and dark glass, sitting in direct contrast to the lower, historically-themed areas below it.
The actual space it occupied was quite large. To each side, there were sealed, sliding doors, built right into the wall and unnoticed by most who went in there. One was Victoria's own private chambers, allowing her to literally stay for as many evenings as she wished to, complete with en suite bathroom. The other was a virtual replica, but meant for important guests and, more often than not, was reserved for the brunette's vampiric maker.
If there was one thing Victoria had an eye for, it was attention to aesthetic detail. As relatively easy-going and modest as she was, the vampiress liked to make a good impression and, even if the room could easily hold a small party inside it, there was a definite, reassuring feel of being in control. It was an atmosphere which she had cultivated at the venue's previous incarnation and had managed to copy here.
Giger-esque furniture was situated at the far end, most especially in the shape of Victoria's own chair and slightly smaller versions for provided for potential guests. Being seated upon her own, Victoria looked up, smiling as her appointment wandered through the glass door.
"Hi..." The vampiress smiled, pleasant and graceful as always, standing to extend a hand in greeting, once they were near. "You must be Leah, right? About the vacancy?"
Leah smiled back and took the offered hand, shaking it firmly "That's right, the ad looked interesting. I thought it sounded like a good place to work."
The rent was paid and with the rest of her belongings on their way to Las Vegas, Leah had turned her attention to job hunting. This was her fourth interview of the day, and she congratulated herself for remembering to grab her suit when she'd frantically packed a bag of clothes that day she and Simon had left Springville. It would have looked bad if she'd only been able to interview in Jeans and a T-shirt. The suit was something Marie had helped her pick out a few months back, professional in style but tailored to fit like a glove and display her assets nicely.
The ad had looked very interesting, it was something out of the ordinary and she was tired of dancing at the same old clubs. Not that she had danced at any of the clubs in Vegas yet. She might still do some of that on the side if she could find a place she liked that would let her work, you never knew what might come through the doors of a strip club.
The other woman's skin was cool to the touch, which struck her as a little odd, but otherwise she seemed normal enough. She wasn't much older than Leah herself, maybe in her late twenties, and pretty cute too.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me."
( interview and audition )
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