The Lead (Closed to Void,Talis, and Delicia)

The streets of Chicago were not as lively as they usually were, and Marco could feel a bad air surfacing. He kept his eyes keen, searching the streets for the boy in the picture, who had most definitely aged and probably did not look exactly like the picture he held. He only had one address available to him, and if he could not find the person of interest, his first lead in 3 years will slip through his fingers.

Marco approached the old, condemned building. He broke the lock on the door with his gun-handle, and entered. The walls still had pictures on them, pictures of a boy and his mom, but more pictures of the boy alone than anything else. This was the right house. Dust consumed everything in site, rising and settling again as Marco walked over it.  The floor creaked and groaned.

"This house knew much horror" Marco thought to himself.

He continued down the hallway toward Brayden's room, hand on his holster, and opened the door. There were still many toys adorning the shelves. The bed still showed signs of struggle. It sickened Marco a little, but he pressed his search on. He noticed one little thing that stuck out to him at the edge of the bed. It was a piece of  ripped paper with an address on it, the handwriting was vaguely reminiscent of the note he kept in his pocket, the note that started this all.  

Marco left the house and took his search to the local police station. The looks he got when he pulled out an LAPD Detective's badge made him sick. They thought him so much higher than themselves, but he wasn't. He didn't want to be.

The files for a "Brayden Lynch" made things as easy as could be.  Marco found the house listed as his current residence, and knocked on the door.

Brayden was at the books again. Still trying to figure out the damn equation for genetic probability. Zell had long given up and left him on his own. That was the primary issue with having a friend much smarter than you, it just couldn't work out when it came to teaching. Left alone in the dorm room Brayden could think of at least a thousand of things he'd rather do. He looked at his cellphone, starign at it, hoping a text or a call would come through. At this point, having work call in would be a welcomed relief. His job wasn't the most moral, but it payed under the table and it was pretty good money. There was a knock on the door and Brayden rolled his eyes. No doubt Zell trying to come back with a new approach to teach him. Brayden walked over and unlocked the door, opening it to see someone he'd never met before. He was wearing the standard Private Investigator uniform with calculating Hazel eyes. Brayden's heart stopped, what happened that made this guy come here? Was Brayden under investigation? Was it Pup? SOOO many questions, but fear had it's cold claws around his neck and kept any words or breath from escaping.
Brayden was not rude, and invited the P.I into his hummble little dorm-room. The place was well kept, thanks to his neat-freak dorm mate, and there was no problem finding a good seat, since all of the furnashings were bought by the boy-genius. Brayden offered the detective something to drink or eat, then after getting himself some water he sat down at the rosewood table and began slowly nodding hsi head nervously.
"So uh- how can I help you...Detective?" Brayden asked, unsure if that was indeed his title.

The boy seemed terrified that he was under investigation. Marco was not surprised. Everyone has dark secrets, and Brayden was probably no different. Marco pulled his detectives badge from his pocket and layers it open on the small table in front of them, along with the newspaper that detailed the events of the night of Brayden's mothers' murder.

"Mr.Lynch, the man responsible for this is still on the loose. I am a detective, and cannot simply track this man down for my own personal benefit and kill him. But with your consent, we can both happen upon this address, and get some information out of him, and then end him." Marco calmly stated as put the address upon the table.

"This man could potentially get us to the top of this criminal ladder, and may let me solve a murder of my childhood. Though I can never act upon this without you, Brayden".

Brayden felt a twisting in his stomach. The damned thing was trying to get out already, just hearing about murder was enough to make him sick anymore. Apparently this was a serial murderer, and it could mean a lot to find the bastrard who murdered his mother and give him a taste of his own medicine. Brayden nodded and grabbed a shirt from his closet and put it on.
"Whenever you're ready." Brayden said, slipping a pocket knife into his jeans.

Marco looked over at Brayden as he slipped the knife into his pocket.

"Where we're going, that won't help much"he said in a firm monotone. He then slipped his 44 Magnum out of its holster and handed it to Brayden, then proceeded to slip on his brass knuckles and set is taser to standby.

The two took a taxi to the entrance of an old store-house. Marco tied a bandana tightly over his mouth and nose, then handed one over to Brayden, who did the same without question. Marco broke the lock by punching it then opened the door slowly.

The place was dark, and dank. The ceiling was collapsed in from leaks in multiple places, allowing them to see alright. There was only a steady drip sound within the whole place, which made Marco a bit nervous. They both walked around the premise at full alert, not letting there guard down even for one minute. Marco made his way around where the dripping was coming from. Then he heard it. A mumbling scream. A scream muffled by something covering a persons mouth. Marco was just about to kick the door when the dripping sound skipped a beat.

He barely had time to react as the thug grabbed him and threw him on the ground. Marco slammed his head backwards and broke the crooks nose then flipped him over his back. A heavy crack followed as the mans body force broke a large wooden table. Marco didn't flinch. He picked up a leg from the table and broke it over the mans head, then grabbed him by the shirt and took a look at his teeth. They were pointed. He was a vampire.

Marco brought his fist back, and knocked the vampire unconscious.

Apparently Brayden was a bandit now. He felt like singing the Frito-bandito song, but it would have to wait until they had the time. With a blood chilling screech what was muffled down made Brayden look straight to the source. There waqs a guy wqith really sharp teeth and he charged at Brayden. Just as the freak wen to take a bite, it was kept at a distance, a warm sensation bruning the inside of his abdomen. The freak gave up and turned ton the detective, who was skilled enough to knock the thing out. Brayden at this point was just along for the ride, until he noticed that this person looked oddly familiar. This was the man who killed his mother. Brayden smiled, ready to let Disarmonia out when the Detective said something. Brayden then remembered that it woulldn't be wise letting a detective see his transformation.
  "Awesome, so..." Brayded began with a long drawl. He looked around and slapped his hands together, rubbing them. "What now?"

Marco glanced at the Brayden, the look in his eyes gave away that this man was the man they wanted.

"Now we find out who sent him, and we finish him. But he doesn't need to know the second part." Marco replied to Brayden.

Marco picked up the vampire and sat him in a chair, then tied him down with  cable. He then rigged up a wooden stake out of the broken table leg, and  stood patiently waiting for the beast to wake.

It took only about 5 minutes for the vampire to regain consciousness. And of course he immediately began snarling and acting like he had no control.

"Shut your fucking mouth." Marco said as he kneed the vampire in the stomach.  

Marco had built a small fire out beneath the chair with some pieces of broken table and some dust-bunnies he had found laying about.  He lit the fire and it slowly started to singe the bottom of the wooden chair that the vampire was sitting on.

"Do you know this person?" Marco said, pointing an inquiring finger at Brayden.

"Shit man...yeah, I got him and his whore of a mother. Both of them were excellent might I add." The vampire said grinning, then winked at Brayden.

Marco sighed, then shot his taser into the vampires eye which he had winked with. The shock intensity was set max, and the eye was blackened when the taser stopped.

"Aagghhh...ok ok, yes I know him. Yes it was me, I did that. But it wasn't because I really wanted to. It was ordered. I was told to rape a whore to teach her a lesson. I follow orders." He said through shallow breathing.

The flames were starting to consume the legs of the chair, they wouldn't hold up much longer.

Marco then asked "Who ordered you, and where are they now?"

"Delicia, she lives in Vegas. I don't know her exact address. The fire...the fire it's on my leg! Please, get me away from it before I combust. Please! Please!"

Marco kicked the chair back away from the fire and stomped out the vampires leg.

"Thanks for your cooperation. Brayden. Meet me outside when your done."Marco said, walking out of the building.

He never heard a gunshot. But he did hear a scream. That's all he needed to hear. Brayden joined him outside and thanked him for allowing him to get revenge.

"Looks like I'm headed to Vegas, you probably shouldn't come, but I wouldn't mind an extra hand if you wanted to." Marco stated.

Marco glanced at the Brayden, the look in his eyes gave away that this man was the man they wanted.
"Now we find out who sent him, and we finish him. But he doesn't need to know the second part." Marco replied to Brayden.

”Obviously.” Brayden huffed, slightly irritated by the detectives explanation of the latter. He watched as the detective took the vampire and put him into the chair, tying him down with some rubber-insulated cable. Brayden was furious, he wanted nothing more than to give in and let Disarmonia shred the undead moron who robbed him of his mother. The Detective armed himself with a wooden table leg. He assumed it was to be used as a steak, but Brayden himself wondered if any piece of wood could do it. In not the Detective was in for a rude awakening.


They stood for what seemed to be hours before the animated corpse began to rouse from slumber. Brayden looked to his watch to see it was only about five or so minutes. His impatience was at an all time high, and Disarmonia was clawing at the white walls to come out and play. The Vampire began acting like a total stereotype, snarling and snapping trying to struggle free. Brayden was happy to see the corpse detained and helpless.

"Shut your fucking mouth." Marco said as he kneed the vampire in the stomach.

The detective proved ever intelligent by having built a small fire with some pieces of broken chair and other little things around. Brayden walked up, his arms crossed. The vampire looked to him with a smile, and so he threw a punch. It hurt Brayden more than the corpse he reasoned, so he let the remaining interrogation to his new found friend. Now with a small fire beneath come vampiric ass the answers should start cooking.

"Do you know this person?" Marco asked, pointing to Brayden, his eye brows up in an inquiring manner.

"Shit man...yeah, I got him and his whore of a mother. Both of them were excellent might I add." The vampire said. That smile, that damn smile. Brayden just wanted to rip his goddamn head off. The poor thing had no idea what he had done, what he helped create. He would soon though.

Marco sighed, or groaned, and then shot the vampire in the eye that he winked with. Brayden covered his mouth trying to hide the smile that had just washed over his face. The shock completely blackened the eye.

"Aagghhh...ok ok, yes I know him. Yes it was me, I did that. But it wasn't because I really wanted to. It was ordered. I was told to rape a whore to teach her a lesson. I follow orders." He said. Brayden’s mother was a whore yes, but what kind of order is that? Brayden couldn’t wrap his head around that concept. A king or queen or whatever the fuck it is that vampires listen too saying “Hey go rape a whore.” Do they seriously not have an war to fight with werewolves or some other shit?

The flames were starting to consume the legs of the chair, each second giving Brayden a renewed sense of joy. Brayden always wanted to go to Burning man and get baked. But this was easily as good.

"Who ordered you, and where are they now?" The detective asked firmly. The Vampire’s increasing fear was enough for Brayden to get weak at the knees. This was too good to be true.

"Delicia, she lives in Vegas. I don't know her exact address. The fire...the fire it's on my leg! Please, get me away from it before I combust. Please! Please!" The pathetic little fledgling begged. The Detective kicked back the chair and stomped out the fire. Brayden was sad again, he wanted to watch the corpse turn to ash.

"Thanks for your cooperation. Brayden. Meet me outside when you’re done." The detective said while walking out of the building. Brayden walked over to the Vampire who started laughing a bit.

“Hey…Why don’t we forget this ever happened?” The fledgling asked, hopeful. There was no chance of that happening. But Brayden just smiled.

“Kill a whore…so just because I’m known to get around does that make me a whore?” Brayden asked. The Vampire just began chuckling.

“Depends on how good ya are.” Brayden smiled and stomped down on the vampires throat. It Screamed, but then started laughing at him for the attempt. “Nice try. I can heal though.”

“Well I just wanted to know if you were a screamer.” Brayden said, fully aware of his double-speak. Brayden took off his shirt and cast it aside, his pants followed just so he could avoid turning his clothing from blood stains. At the airport that might draw attention. His veins going up his arms began to glow, and his flesh turned to obsidian plates with molten blue liquid between them. His eyes began to glow like fire. Brayden placed a finger over his mouth.

“Ssshhhhh.” He teased as his hand went over the vampire’s mouth, the flesh melting it together, the smell filling his nostrils. Brayden only smiled as the vampire attempted to cry out, but all he could muster was a pathetic little muffle. The mouth had fully closed and Brayden smiled.

“Kill a boy’s mother…and vengeance festers in the son.” Brayden said, Disarmonia’s voice coming through his mouth as he quoted an old game. With the now silenced Vampire he took his sweet time, mutilating the poor thing with his now clawed hands, Diarmonia broke free and took a bite out of his neck, pulling out it’s larynx like a strand of chewing gum and swallowing it. The vampire’s last sight was Brayden smiling as he patted his cheek. “I wish I could leave you like this to heal, so we could stay like this forever. But I’ve got a plane to catch. You were amazing, by the way.”

When it was done, the vampire had no chance. It was in several isolated pieces, all of them cauterized as to prevent the regeneration. Then he ripped out the things brain and allowed Disarmonia to devour it before allowing flame to cover his body, melting off the blood of his flesh before putting his clothing back on and walking out to meet his new friend.

“Thanks…I owe ya.” Brayden said with a smile.

"Looks like I'm headed to Vegas, you probably shouldn't come, but I wouldn't mind an extra hand if you wanted to." Marco stated.

”I’m in it to win it. Let’s go get her.”

It was the rhythm to herald the coming of a savior whose feet blackened the earth with each soundless footfall. A rather muscular man with foreign clothing strutted along the streets with a strange and ornate blade of dark composition but sacred persuasion, his well-toned arms and barreled chest staying upright and straight with every step taken. The sword in the sling on his back clanged and clicked as its makeshift sling shuffled against the man's bareback. He walked, naked and with purpose through a vast desert towards a shining, bright gem of a city.

"Las Vegas," he muttered under his breathing. He had much to learn of this era, having only recently awoken. In his time as a paladin, he had known that large cities festered with sin. Where there was sin, there were dark creatures. He could not have been certain that these creatures were off the undead under usual circumstance, but he could feel them. All around him, in every direction like little needles pricking his head. These little pricks were like markers, or signs that lead to them. The undead festered in the desert, but the creature he sought was not so far away from the streets of mortals.

No. He strode along towards a single point in space. A little, tiny dot that seemed to linger in the same exact spot. He had been walking for days, and now finally he could see it-- the festering wound on the skin of this country. Or at least, one festering wound that drew him in. Occasionally, he would see the eyeless little girl, black pits in her skull that were as the greatest abyss he had stared into. They crawled right back into him, and his sword shivered. She would be off in the distance, pointing the way for him. He had been walking for days, maybe weeks and now, before him he felt his quarry stronger than ever. He tried to anticipate what it may be. Perhaps, a werewolf? A strong, brutal creature that fed on the corpses of men it had slain would not hide so easily in a city. Perhaps, a traditional Vampire, or even a Ulpyr? No. He assumed these people were of the same caliber of religiously paranoid that his long dead affiliations had been. They would notice if their was a vampire in their midst.

This was all conjecture however. The more he pondered on what his prey might be, the closer he came to the edge of the city. As hours passed and day turned to night, desert sand became as cement. Soon, his naked form walked down the Vegas streets, catching glares from the populace before he found himself invited down an alley way by a man in a long, black coat.

"Lose something?" The man's words were the hiss of a snake, coiling around the Death Knight's feet with an intent that he recognized. He approached the man, no warning to his actions and grabbed the stranger by the throat and pinned him to the wall, his face revealed in the dim light cast from an out of view street lamp. His features were fair, his hair long and black. His eyes were wide with terror. The little girl appeared next to the Death Knight, and nodded, whispered thoughts into his head that only he could hear. Talis' mouth opened wide, his glistening fangs revealed his ravenous appetite to serve his master. A scream rang out briefly and was silenced in due measure, like the wind dying to make way for the still of the storm's prelude.

He emerged from the alley, wiping blood from his mouth. He took now pleasure or disgust from the action, and had already donned the stranger's clothes. The pants were a bit large, but a length of the man's still bleeding intestines proved enough to hold the strange material around his waist. The fabric of the man's gray shirt was light and comfortable, but did not feel as though it would last. The most important thing was the mans black long-coat. It fit over his body just right, and concealed his sword underneath after he re-positioned it to his side. He began to move down the sidewalk again, leaving the man's corpse to be discovered nude in the alley that shrank into the darkness behind him. He felt that his prey was growing closer and stopped, raising his head to the surroundings and taking a sniff. So much blood, in his former life he may have gone mad.

His prey was still a long way into this den of debauchery the humans called a city. He ventured further down the side walk, bumping into people and paying them little-to-no mind, focused on his singular purpose. Come out from hiding, he thought eagerly. You can not escape death forever, creature.