Chapter One: Awakenings / a.k.a. Plastic Vampire Teeth do not an Imposing Vampire Make Vladimir Draven could sense the nightfall even in his sleep. His internal clock had been perfected through eons of stretching the dark hours of the night to the last minutes before the deadly sun rose in the east and the purple horizon of sunfall trumpeted the beginning of His time at night. A cold, giddy feeling roused him from his slumber and he sat up on his four-poster bed. A glance at his bedsheet-covered window revealed that his instincts had been correct; night was upon his side of the world and it was time to roam. Preparations for his nocturnal adventures had become a finely honed ritual. He turned on his favorite Coal Chamber album and opened his closet. A smile crept across his face as the eerie glow of his Spencer Gifts blacklight outlined his clothing collection as an ominous dark mass. "How appropriate," he thought as he liberated his favorite black trenchcoat from the pool of dark cotton. Having slept in his clothing, the only remaining obstacles between Vladimir Draven and the dark gifts of the New Orleans night were retrieving his Magic: The Gathering deck from his desk and picking up his custom black JanSport backpack with all outward labels having been blacked out with a marker. Vladimir stealthily made his way down the stairway leading to the door of his most recent place of residence. He had learned long ago that the best policy was to not be seen, especially by those humans who remained close to his slumbering grounds in the daytime. He reached the doorway and slowly turned the handle when a voice like the chorus of a thousand howling mad demons from the Sixth Realm of T'inruklasa assaulted his keen vampire ears. "Just where the hell do you think you're going at eleven-thirty p.m.?" Damned humans! Who was this shrieking wench to question such an ancient entity such as himself!? He had drained the blood from the bodies of many mortals for less. Slowly, Vladimir turned to face the owner of the icy voice. "I'm just going out, mother." "The hell you are at this time of night. Get your skinny ass back upstairs and go to bed." "But I just woke up!" "Frederick James Stewart, I'm not going to tell you again. You're not leaving this house at eleven-thirty at night until you're at least eighteen years old. Then you can do whatever the hell you want. Right now you're playing by my rules. Got it? And don't hiss at me or I'll slap those ridiculous plastic vampire teeth right out of your mouth." Defeated, the ancient vampire gave the foul beast his best Brandon Lee grimace and ascended the stairs while mumbling a spell for his real name to never be uttered again by any mortal, lest they find him standing in their windowsill one night and be really afraid! Vladimir locked the door to his dark abode and pulled the coverings from his window. Being careful not to make the window frame squeak, he opened it slowly and looked down. A drop to the ground that would make any mere mortal quiver in fear was a simple leap for a vampire, and he did so. Grinning as his trenchcoat flew upwards and the air rushed by his ears, he landed on his feet and quickly rolled, at the end of which he attempted to stand up in one fluid motion. Unfortunately, he later thought, his vampire sight had not detected the mud in which he'd be landing in from above. The fluid motion that his vampire reflexes and strength should have easily allowed was sabotaged by the slickness of the terrain and almost as quickly as he was standing up, he had sat back down again, hard on his back with his legs in the air. Vladimir stared up at the moon and attempted to laugh but found it difficult to breathe. A few moments passed and his breath finally returned to him soon after the panic had set in. He silently thanked his vampire healing abilities and stood up. His cloak of darkness was now covered with Mother Earth herself, and he wondered if his slave wench could wash the stains out the next eve. Walking with a stride that some young imbecilic mortals had once described as being "like a goose," but is actually perfectly normal for a powerful vampire whose movements are simply too quick for the human eye, Vladimir made his way to the place the mortals called "Circle K." He thought of the characters one usually encounters at Circle K and a quote emerged from the depths of his memory; a memory of many lifetimes spent trapped in this immortal coil. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Ah, what wise sage had said such a thing? How many centuries ago? Even a vampire's mind cannot accurately keep track of every location and person encountered over hundreds of years in darkness. Shaking his head, Vladimir lengthened his strides to his limit, as if trying to outrun the demons in his past. Finally, he arrived. "Freak alert! Check this shit out! Hahaha!" Vladimir locked eyes with the inebriated mortal sitting on the curb of the Circle K and swooshed his cape as intimidatingly as he could with it only being knee-length. He felt the flaps hit his calves a little harder than they should have and realized that the mud had dried on his back. "Curses!" The mortal addressing him took another swig of his Colt 45 and wiped his mouth. Sizing him up, Vladimir decided that the mortal was the typical young New Orleans alcoholic nuisance he so often encountered on his outings. Wearing an old Red Dog beer t-shirt, white shorts, sandals and a drunken grin, the mortal was, technically, bigger and stronger than Vladimir. But he was no vampire. "You may wish to know, mortal, that I am as a shepherd is to a herd. But I can also be the wolf." A chorus of "ooohs" erupted from the mortal's friends. "Ah think he's cawlin' yew a QUEER Jimmay!" Vladimir could feel the tension mounting and opted to diffuse the situation instead of leaving another mess for the New Orleans coroner to clean up. "I must go now." With that, Vladimir walked around the mortals and grimaced when his heel betrayed him and visibly shook while mounting the curb. Keeping his head high, he reached for the door of the establishment and had one foot inside before feeling the other being caught in a steely grip. Using the door to balance himself and to try to pull himself inside, Vladimir's expression never changed even as the angry redneck mortal drunkenly rolled on his back trying to keep a grip on him while his friends laughed and stumbled about. Finally, Vladimir was able to break free of the mortal's death grip, but only after the female store clerk asked him if he wanted her to call the police. "That.. won't be... necessary. I have... the sit... uation... completely under... control. By the way... I... mm.. noticed you were reading... a Sandman... comic... is that...<hisss!>... an original print?" Trying to act nonchalant as the drunken mortals made kissy faces on the store window, Vladimir picked up a pack of MintyBurst gum and continued directing his seductive vampire charm at the young store clerk. He had noticed the ankh on her necklace and the slight whiff of Morbid perfume on previous visits. A feeling he had thought long dead had surfaced again. Was love even possible now? Memories came flooding back from the last time he had felt this way. The wax sealed note he had prepared the previous night being handed across the classroom through a dozen hands - destination: Missy Carter. But it never reached her. Every word he had poured from his heart onto paper was turned back towards him like daggers as the teacher read them aloud to the classroom. Time stopped when the laughing faces mocked his heartfelt proclamation of true love with a p.s. asking if she would like to go to the Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch show he had an extra ticket for. That was the day he had forsaken God. "Yes, it's an original print." Vladimir was snapped back into the present by the girl's velvety voice. He admired her Marilyn Manson t-shirt and could sense her anguish of having to frame the beautiful image of his face with a Circle K work vest. A black, ankle length skirt and combat boots completed her outfit. Vladimir's vampire charm had placed him in an advantageous position to quickly establish a rapport with the girl, who's nametag identified her as "^v^ Lorin ^v^," for comic books were his element. "Ahh. You are a collector. I can see it in your eyes. I, too, collect such things. I am amused by the stories of The Sandman and the way he dresses in preacher's clothing and acts as a god on Earth. Such a wonderful concept! His battle against the chemically enhanced Bane was truly breathtaking, and I mourned the loss of his adamantium skeleton for days." Lorin looked at Vladimir with a dumbfounded expression. "Uh, yeah. Isn't that gum going to get caught in your plastic vampire teeth?" Curses! He had forgotten to remove them! Now she knew his dark secret. He felt his pale face becoming bright red and tears forming in his eyes. Hunger! Yes, he must be weak from hunger. It was the only explanation for this... "human" reaction. Words came to his lips and he croaked them out. "Do not fear me, child. I must feed now, but I will return bearing the Dark Gift. Acceptance will bring you immortality in darkness. Denial will only bring you..." Vladimir tilted his head down and gave her his well practiced Brandon Lee grimace. Turning towards the door on one foot, he attempted to distract himself from the female's giggling with the fact that the drunken mortals had left. The night was still young. This was fortunate, for it meant Taco Bell was still open. Vladimir stalked off with a hiss. << >>