2020-09-17 Fast Food
Fast Food
Participants: Jay
Storyteller: Zebastian
Location: Venice
Date and Time: September 17, 2020 - 11:24 pm
Summary: Stepping out into Venice for a quick bite, Jay encounters a tasty mark - though fast food comes with a need for a faster exit, as dining alfresco does come with some risks...
Venice at night.
It's not particularly crowded at this time of night, but there's still life in these streets: be it from clusters of tourists breaking off form one another to drunkenly find their way back to their hotels, to hospitality workers who've finally gotten off shift - or nightlife vice denizens who are just midway through making their deliveries.
It was raining earlier - isn't that novel? The streets are slick with rehydrated motor oil, reflecting back iridescent pools of neon lights from the few late night corner shops and after-hour bars still open. Slippery sidewalks, too -- and the stink from alleyways? Well, not worth thinking about.
The scent of fastfood wafts - a twenty-something year old kid ambles speedily through the streets, avoiding a pile of trash overflowing from a bin as he hurries along to his destination, looking exhausted and still dressed in the scrubs from the Urgent Care clinic he presumably works at. A smaller side-street is eyed, and one can nearly feel the assumption that he's considering trying a short-cut to get home.
Further along, outside a magenta neon of an after-bar? A group of men and women laugh and say their goodnights - clothes marking them out clearly a middle management on some work related vaycay. A middle aged man in chinos waves his coworkers off, and turns to wander through the streets -- going left, and then right, and then--- damn; where was his hotel, again?
All while the area's usual corner boys, escorts, runners and shop workers go about their night -- savvier, but no less vulnerable.
Tonight looks to be hunting night for Jay, that time of the week where he gets to temporarily sate the eternal hunger that nestles within each and every one of his kind. Previous endeavors have driven him to rouse the Beast a few times, and thus the man is hungrier than usual. Getting the attention of fangirls, or even fanboys, is usually how he operates: it's clean, less risky, and to his surprise tends to garner even more well-liked attention from his fanbase, being considered as someone who's 'interactive' with their supporters and all that. But the Beast yearns for more. Stepping outside onto the slick streets of Venice, wishing that it was still pouring rain, Jay stalks across the neighborhood for any viable preys and alike.
And he's not picky when it comes to hunting. His only requirements are that they're alone and vulnerable, because approaching someone who's likely to hold a pistol in their waistband will just do him more harm than good. Bullet holes tend to dry even more vitae from one's body, typically. The college-aged kid still dressed in his work garb manages to attract unwanted attention from Jay. Dressed in an all-black attire, he patiently follows the kid, fastening and slowing his pace to match his prey's. The time that he takes that shortcut, or finds himself in an alley or a lonely street, will be the time for Jay to strike.
Yeah. Something about dry bullet holes really does get a hunger going.
Judging by the way that kid in Urgent Care scrubs moves, glimpsing at his bag of burrito bowl every now and then? Kid is pretty hungry himself - enough so that he's taking the shortcut through the smaller court that cuts through the back of various establishments; filled with empty vans at loading bays, locked dumpsters, and relatively lacklustre lighting.
How convenient.
The ground is wet and slick underfoot -- though nothing for Jay to be too concerned about, puddles and damp trash skilfully avoided. Up ahead, the kid has less luck as a hurrying along has him kicking a few empty bottles -- startling himself in the process, and doing a quick spin to check the ground before finding his bearings again.
A shortcut may have been a questionable decision -- he's got the air of someone who /sort/ of knows where he's going, but is still trying to remember which side-alley will pop him out at the right part of the next road over. Slows him down a bit.
A true creature of the night, Jay is quite patient in his posture and movement, even when the Beast is constantly nagging at him in the back of his mind. Just like how the kid can't stop glimpsing at his burrito, Jay just cannot stop his hungry fixation on the man. Gorging on his blood and feeling as the warmth surges through his throat, the anticipation thrums soundly in his dead heart and belly. Noting that the shortcut is quiet and empty, as expected, Jay hastens his pace towards his prey, hands untucking from the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie as he prepares himself to lunge.
The unexpected 180 from the kid manages to stop him for a heartbeat, but judging by the kid's expression it was just his own nervousness toying with his mind. It's not uncalled for; his mind is probably registering all sorts of wrong things that're happening around him right now, feeling that someone or -something- is following close behind but just cannot quite pick up on that fact. When the kid turns to resume his hurried steps, he doesn't get to reach three yards from where he was before disaster struck.
Jumping out of the shadows, obfuscated as he was, Jay is quick to sling an arm around his prey's neck to block his windpipe, preventing him from making too much of a noise from the brief scuffle as fangs jut and stab into warm skin, the ecstasy of the Kiss soon overwhelming them both. Jay is greedy tonight - he's taking a pint or more than usual, and he can only hope that the kid will find his way back home come morning because he's not going to be feeling all that well for the upcoming week.
Once Jay is done, his prey's limp body is shoved against the wall, a balled fist striking the poor kid in the eye a couple of times. Two solid hits that will definitely leave a swollen eye, but in the long run will help with the most important law of the night - the Masquerade. Whatever possessions that the kid has, most likely the money in his wallet, is claimed by his assailant. Sure, the money will be somewhat useful, but the illusion of robbery is what's most important here. Nobody has to die, the Masquerade is well-kept, and Jay gets his fill of Vitae for the night, and likely for the next few nights as well.
It's true -- there is quite possibly a tickle of danger senses from the kid as Jay comes up behind him; but the hairs standing up on his neck come just to late for the kid to make any significant response against getting cinched up like that. The small struggle that follows is futile, and results only in the kid thrashing that bag of burrito bowl all over the place, a rain of lettuce and carne asada littering down on the damp ground around them.
As if the Urgent Care guy's night couldn't get any worse, right?
After the bite, his blood flows easily --- hot and coppery, tasting of youth and vitality, of potential and life. Humanity, sating the Beast within -- and the longer Jay drinks, the deeper the draught? The less of a struggle there is, until the kid's body is drooping, dragging at Jay's arms as he slumps down into the damp sludgy ground of the back street.
Smack-smack. Right in the eye. Urgent Care's night does, in fact, get worse. That shiner's gonna stick around for a while, long after the haze of the Kiss fades off and those red blood cells start to regenerate deep in his marrow. There's no stirring once Jay is done.
That part is over. But hey; what's that sound coming from a little further down the backstreet? The wire security door of some late night eatery opening up, followed by the outline of a trash bag and some guy speaking in Spanish about descanso para fumar. Fuck. Seems like now's the perfect time to get the hell out of dodge.
The fresh crisp bills are stored safely in his hoodie's kangaroo pocket, and just as Jay is about to make his leave, down at the mouth of the alley someone happens to be coming out and headed straight to his direction. Jay's stuck frozen for a couple of seconds, hoping that the man didn't see him, but judging by his body language he's indeed been spotted. There's really nothing left to do for him besides getting the hell out of dodge, and so Jay pivots on his heel and flees the other direction, his dark attire looking to blend in with the shadows and darkness that the night offers to find a suitable hiding spot. Mastery of Obfuscate can do wonders to a fleeing vampire, for sure.
It takes Sr. Fumar about half a second of dallying on the steps before he does, indeed, spot the figure of Jay over there, backlit by an unfortunately placed security lamp that pops on at perhaps the worst moment possible for the freshly fed vampire, no doubt.
The dude who just wanted a smoke break doesn't just see him though -- he sees the guy in the alleyway, what's just been punched in the face and sprawls all unconsciously on the ground and such. Oh my. A startled question quickly transforms into a rather accusatory cry in Spanish, as the guy watches the outline of Jay dash off into darker directions...
...but this is Los Angeles, man. Situations like this? Just part of the fucking landscape. Sr. Fumar is no vigilante hero - fuck, he just wanted a cigarette and to finish work, and now here he is, having to be a good samaritan and check on the unconscious Urgent Care worker with the busted up face. God damn!
At least the pathway out for Jay is clear --- it may not be his cleanest getaway from a feast in the night, but it is at least for now? Unhindered.
