Post by Griff on May 25, 2013 18:06:32 GMT 10
Title: Advice from a Vampire
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 914
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
WARNING: Violence
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.1) George learns a painful lesson from a stranger
-
Growing up in the inner city came with baggage. George couldn’t sleep without the roar of car engine barreling down the freeway, the louder the better. He’d grown up in a little house that was probably condemned at some point, but his mother had made the best of the broken windows and shoddy electricity and made it a home. He couldn’t say that he’d never wondered about his father, but growing up where a father was a novelty, he didn’t feel worse than the line of bastards looping around the neighborhood. His cousin lived in the projects three blocks over and across the street from the basketball court, which probably would have been more fun if he could shoot a basket, but by the time he turned seventeen he had more important thing to do than curse at a flat orange ball.
He’d started out with a convenient store job, but he’d left when the boss started eyeing inventory counts with knowing suspicion before he could be charged with theft. He needed his paycheck, but he’d never regret smuggling food to the neighbors while he could. After that, work was harder to find, but he managed to grab two or three day shifts with random shops along the bar strip. He knew his mom wanted him in school, but he wasn’t meant to leave the neighborhood. There were kids who were going places, but it was only a matter of time before George found himself a darker career and both he and his mother knew it.
Like he said, he had issues, but as terrible as it was to make a meal out of unlabeled cans picked off the truck at What-a-Store’s can sale, there was something about inner city Corus he couldn’t shake and the idea of leaving broke his heart.
Maybe it was the view. His favorite spot was halfway up the right foot of the freeway overpass after midnight. The traffic was light, the hum of the engine a gentle flow instead of an aggressive rush and the city climbed up towards the Royal District with lines of road racing straight to the top.
“Odd,” a voice said from below, pitched just loud enough to be heard, but with an odd precision that didn’t belong in George’s neck of the woods. He leaned out of his concrete nook and peered at the ground, catching a flash of a long jacket that belonged in the business district and impeccable facial hair.
“Lost?” George offered generously, slipping a leg over the side so he could lean out a bit farther.
“Simply admiring your talent. It’s not often a man would be content in these conditions.” The man’s voice held a faint but unmistakable hint of disdain George couldn’t help but let get to him.
“Well,” He snapped,”If you ain’t lost, don’t let me stop you.”
“You should be careful,” the man mocked, “you never know what sort of people you’ll meet wandering around on nights like this.”
“Yeah,” George scoffed, catching a clean look at the man’s tailored clothes and designer watch as another car drove overhead. He pulled his leg back up and settled comfortably into the triangular bow. “I’ll be sure remember that.”
He should have been more concerned, he realized later, that a man dressed that nicely had no fear walking around in the projects of Corus and talking to strangers, but there had been something in the air that kept him from thinking and by the time he realized he wasn’t alone in his niche, the rich man had him pinned against the concrete with a long-toothed smile.
“I wasn’t looking for a child,” The man’s eyes gleamed sharp blue and the orange glow of headlights shined across them as he spoke. “But I must say, there is something about you, young man, I’m simply dying to understand.” He laughed as if he’d cracked the most splendid joke.
Then, there was pain. The man - the crazy, murderous, monstrous freakshow - bit savagely into George’s throat, cutting off his pained scream. “Shh, quiet now. We’re having such a nice moment,” he said, and this time, the orange gleam wasn’t from headlights and George struck out with his feet, landing a solid blow on the nutjob’s chest that send him reeling out of the alcove.
Overwhelmed by disbelief, George scrambled back to the edge and peered down, watching the man starting to stand and dust off his expensive clothing. Despite the blood streaming down his clothing, George fled as fast as he could climb, eventually pulling himself up onto the freeway.
The teenage girl behind the wheel of the new compact car he barely managed to avoid slamming himself into had never driven alone at night in the city and he certainly made the experience memorable, bleeding out in her passenger seat, but Alanna may have been young, but she could follow hospital signs well enough.
The cops chalked the attack up to a hobo, despite the fact the man was dressed to the nine and spoke like he fell out of a high society movie, and George was discharged from the hospital with antibiotics three days later when it was clear his body was compensating for the blood loss.
He left knowing two things: there was no way that madman spent his days in tailored clothes sleeping on a street corner, and he was going to be careful, because he never knew he could meet on nights like this.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 914
Pairing: George/Roger
Round/Fight: 2B
WARNING: Violence
Summary: (Vampire AU pt.1) George learns a painful lesson from a stranger
-
Growing up in the inner city came with baggage. George couldn’t sleep without the roar of car engine barreling down the freeway, the louder the better. He’d grown up in a little house that was probably condemned at some point, but his mother had made the best of the broken windows and shoddy electricity and made it a home. He couldn’t say that he’d never wondered about his father, but growing up where a father was a novelty, he didn’t feel worse than the line of bastards looping around the neighborhood. His cousin lived in the projects three blocks over and across the street from the basketball court, which probably would have been more fun if he could shoot a basket, but by the time he turned seventeen he had more important thing to do than curse at a flat orange ball.
He’d started out with a convenient store job, but he’d left when the boss started eyeing inventory counts with knowing suspicion before he could be charged with theft. He needed his paycheck, but he’d never regret smuggling food to the neighbors while he could. After that, work was harder to find, but he managed to grab two or three day shifts with random shops along the bar strip. He knew his mom wanted him in school, but he wasn’t meant to leave the neighborhood. There were kids who were going places, but it was only a matter of time before George found himself a darker career and both he and his mother knew it.
Like he said, he had issues, but as terrible as it was to make a meal out of unlabeled cans picked off the truck at What-a-Store’s can sale, there was something about inner city Corus he couldn’t shake and the idea of leaving broke his heart.
Maybe it was the view. His favorite spot was halfway up the right foot of the freeway overpass after midnight. The traffic was light, the hum of the engine a gentle flow instead of an aggressive rush and the city climbed up towards the Royal District with lines of road racing straight to the top.
“Odd,” a voice said from below, pitched just loud enough to be heard, but with an odd precision that didn’t belong in George’s neck of the woods. He leaned out of his concrete nook and peered at the ground, catching a flash of a long jacket that belonged in the business district and impeccable facial hair.
“Lost?” George offered generously, slipping a leg over the side so he could lean out a bit farther.
“Simply admiring your talent. It’s not often a man would be content in these conditions.” The man’s voice held a faint but unmistakable hint of disdain George couldn’t help but let get to him.
“Well,” He snapped,”If you ain’t lost, don’t let me stop you.”
“You should be careful,” the man mocked, “you never know what sort of people you’ll meet wandering around on nights like this.”
“Yeah,” George scoffed, catching a clean look at the man’s tailored clothes and designer watch as another car drove overhead. He pulled his leg back up and settled comfortably into the triangular bow. “I’ll be sure remember that.”
He should have been more concerned, he realized later, that a man dressed that nicely had no fear walking around in the projects of Corus and talking to strangers, but there had been something in the air that kept him from thinking and by the time he realized he wasn’t alone in his niche, the rich man had him pinned against the concrete with a long-toothed smile.
“I wasn’t looking for a child,” The man’s eyes gleamed sharp blue and the orange glow of headlights shined across them as he spoke. “But I must say, there is something about you, young man, I’m simply dying to understand.” He laughed as if he’d cracked the most splendid joke.
Then, there was pain. The man - the crazy, murderous, monstrous freakshow - bit savagely into George’s throat, cutting off his pained scream. “Shh, quiet now. We’re having such a nice moment,” he said, and this time, the orange gleam wasn’t from headlights and George struck out with his feet, landing a solid blow on the nutjob’s chest that send him reeling out of the alcove.
Overwhelmed by disbelief, George scrambled back to the edge and peered down, watching the man starting to stand and dust off his expensive clothing. Despite the blood streaming down his clothing, George fled as fast as he could climb, eventually pulling himself up onto the freeway.
The teenage girl behind the wheel of the new compact car he barely managed to avoid slamming himself into had never driven alone at night in the city and he certainly made the experience memorable, bleeding out in her passenger seat, but Alanna may have been young, but she could follow hospital signs well enough.
The cops chalked the attack up to a hobo, despite the fact the man was dressed to the nine and spoke like he fell out of a high society movie, and George was discharged from the hospital with antibiotics three days later when it was clear his body was compensating for the blood loss.
He left knowing two things: there was no way that madman spent his days in tailored clothes sleeping on a street corner, and he was going to be careful, because he never knew he could meet on nights like this.