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The Multiverse » Arcs » A Turn of The Harlequin

The Harlequin: Mass murderer and painter of blood. The artist of death's shenanigans have gone unpunished for too long, at least according to a certain woman of the night.

As written by: Nevan, lostamongtrees, NotAFlyingToy


87 pieces and 4 characters involved, written by 3 different authors.

5 places involved




So begins...

A Turn of The Harlequin


Wing CitySetting: Wing City


It was raining, it was evening, and it was a little known haven for the supernatural called Club Nyt...

The outside was guarded. But not too strongly! Under the heavy, pouring rain, no-one noticed when a bouncer or two met his end with little more than being snatched into shadow with a yelp to show for it.
The strangely dressed figure was sneaking through the alley towards the back now... His mask hiding his identity and his soft shoes hiding his footsteps. There was a ladder, next, and it led to the roof... So he climbed it, up and up and up, until he could ascend no further.

Below, the vampires and other nasty creatures inside lost themselves in a dark world of music and passion... They didn't notice the shadow of the hunter creeping over the glass window above, open the ventilation shaft, then slide inside and down below...

Now he was in the system; demons beware.
Loud music, flashing lights, Club Nyt was tonight just as Daemala had expected. Fully alive, she thought to herself, a smirk pulling at the corners of her blood red lips. In one fluid motion, she swept up the glass that the bartender had just placed in front of her. Red wine, of course.

Raising her wine glass above eye level, she dove into the throng of dancers. Each step was coolly calculated, Dameala bopped with the rhythm, weaving through the crowd. She was spit out from the mass on the other side, near the lounge area, glass raised triumphantly in the air. Not a single drop was sacrificed to the dance floor! Carefully, she took a sip, swishing the liquid around her teeth. Not bad, she thought, as she lowered herself gracefully onto an empty couch. Flourishing, she crossed her legs, throwing her shoulders back. Daemala swept the room with her eyes, but nobody really seemed worth the conversation. I suppose I'll just wait, she sipped her wine again.
And then... The music stopped.

"Hey, what's happenin' man?!" Asked one of the dancers as he peered up at the DJ booth. Sparks flew from the machine and the DJ himself was nowhere to be found... He had just... Disappeared.

"Why'd the music stop?!" Another cried.

"This place sucks!"

All of a sudden, the uproar started. People were arguing and pushing to members of staff to find out why their fun evening had been ruined, some even left without a fuss.

"Please, please, calm down!" A man said over the speakers from the office above, while those in the VIP section, who had their own music, their own company, even private dancers, merely smiled and grinned at those below through the stainless glass window that overlooked the dance floor.

And then... The light went off inside that section. No sound escaped from it, leaving those below looking up for a good two minutes in wonder before the lights flickered on again.

Blood was everywhere.
And then, from the VIP room, the body of the DJ smashed the glass and crashed to the ground; blood and gory innards spraying around as though someone was using a hosepipe. Most screamed and ran... But some had a strong stomach, not to mention a 'liking' for the red liquid. So they stuck around... Because it was mighty interesting, wasn't it?

What could make such a heavenly mess of things, and what would he do next? No matter, the police or the guards would be here soon, right?

Wrong. The manager lay dead in his office. The guards were no-where to be found... And what was that? The front door suddenly shut and locked behind them!

Well, wasn't this interesting? They now appeared to be trapped in.

Then, without so much as a warning, one of the vampires in the centre of the room screamed as blood sprayed from his body and he fell to the floor; twitching and unable to move.
She locked her eyed on the spurting corpse, and couldn't help but run her tongue over her upper lip as the pool of blood surrounding the obviously deceased DJ grew larger. It really was a beautiful sight, from up here, practically a birds eye view of the dancefloor. She was obscured by the shadow of the VIP box on the wall, her position sniper worthy. Not to mention that nobody would notice she was there anyway, unless they were remarkably gifted. Daemala was a vampire, and blended in with the shadows, using them as cover.

She finally had decided that it would be the right time to go back down the stairs, now that all the attention was directed towards the dance floor. Just as Daemala was about to descend, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the center of the room. Blood sprayed everywhere as someone, a vampire, fell twitching to the floor. She plastered herself into the wall, her inner vampire instincts kicking in, blending in completely with the shadows.

Her immortal life was in danger! She felt her fangs slip down, poking at her lip. She scanned the room, looking for the threat.
And then the the being decided to strike. He jumped down from the metal rafters high above the dance floor, using all manner of acrobatic moves and knives to slice and dice his way through the remaining population, until none were left alive except for the hidden Daemala at the back of the room...

He sighed... It was finished for now. He let his shoulders and arms fall and relax as he stood in the room, his feet plodding in the pools and blood and now stained a sickly crimson. Not long after, he began to string the bodies up using the rafters above; letting them hang and the blood rain upon him.

He raised his arms; stretched them out... Stared up towards the ceiling as his prey bled on him. He seemed to love it.

But he wasn't content with merely letting the bodily fluid hit his mask, so he took the edge of the harlequin crown with his right hand and, with a little effort, tore it from his head... Revealing a mess of dark hair that hid his face below.
A flash of blades cut through the crowd, killing everyone on the dance floor. Daemala's black eyes widened, as she lowered herself to a crouch. There it was. The killer.

She prepared herself for action, for soon everyone down there would be dead and he would surely seek out the next victim. Which could be her.
But...what was this? The person continued to string up the bloodied corpses, and hang them like a giant, dripping, flesh pinata in the middle of the room. Daemala oogled at it, feeling the pull of the blood, but being slightly sickened by the pulp of meat, and all the while admiring this guy's style.

The person tore the mask from his head, and, revealed himself to be male. Male, and in need of a haircut! Daemala remained frozen, unsure of what exactly to do in a situation like this.
The man, he went down to his knees, then lay backwards... Sprawled out on the floor, facing up at the ceiling. Blood dripped on him, but he didn't mind. He merely closed his eyes, enjoying the smell and the taste and the touch...
He was clearly strange of the mind and most definitely not human. But, his sense of smell didn't seem that acute... For he still hadn't noticed Daemala.

The sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance of the city, but the man didn't mind.
The guy situated himself on the floor, practically bathing in the blood. He appeared to be...relaxing? Daemala slowly crept down the stairs, staying hidden in the shadows. The scent of freshly slaughtered specimens sat thick in her nostrils, and her thirst grew stronger.

Sirens in the distance, crap! Daemala jumped the last six stairs at inhuman speed, landing on her feet and hand. She whipped her head to glower point blank at the murderer, curling her lip to show her fangs.

"Enjoy it while you still can," She hissed warning at him, cocking her head sideways. Soon, this place would be a lock down crime scene, and she wanted no part of it. She lunged around a corner, disappearing from the madman's view. If he was even looking at her. She wasn't paying much attention, Daemala was focused on escape. Plastered against the wall, she listened. Sounded to be almost 5 blocks from here, those sirens. Best find a way out the back!
"You're going to me the only survivor, think yourself lucky," he suggested out loud as the vampiress rushed around trying to escape. "Or... Will they merely think you killed them, instead?"

His voice carried the full length of the building, so she was bound to hear. "I can help you escape and I can keep the heat off your back... The question is, what are you going to pay me for it?"
Daemala shuddered as the eerie voice carried through the building. She could find her own way out of here, thank you very much! But alas, all the doors were locked, and Daemala was not about to ruin these shoes busting down a door.

She strolled back into view of the crazy killer, slightly irritated at the situation. She wasn't going to die, no, which was brilliant. But she wasn't about to get blamed for this!

"Pay you? Pay you? You just cost me my dinner, mindyou." Daemala crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. So it was money this mad bloke was after? Couldn't he just rob a bank?
Well, it's not like she hadn't seen anything like this happen before, but this was the first time Daemala was actually wound up in the bullshit. And this was the first time it had cost her her dinner!

She sighed, her ears pricking at the woop of the sirens. Two blocks away...

"Escape now, and we'll discuss things later," She said, darting glances around the room.
The man pulled back on his mask, letting out a mad, crazy guffaw while he rolled around in the puddles and lake forming on the dancefloor. Not until he was soaked and dripping in red did he stand up; a yawn escaping from him and his bones cracking as he stretched.

It was time for him to leave... He could hear vans and cars pulling up outside, yelling and footsteps... Oh yes, it was definitely time for him to leave.

He jumped, gripped and began to climb, using anything he could get a hold of, including the strung up bodies, to get himself as high from the floor as possible... As the armed police officers and detectives burst in through the front door with weapons ready to fire, the mass murderer slipped out to the roof through the same vent he had used to enter...
The madman jumped, and started to climb his way up towards the ceiling. Oh for the love of... Daemala narrowed her eyes and kicked off her shoes, jumping towards a wall, crouching on it and springing off, aiming for the body ball. Lightning quick, she scaled up it, completely ruining her stockings and covering herself in blood. Mmm blood.

The doors to Nyt burst open, and law officers piled in. Up above her, Daemala watched as the killer slipped through a vent in the roof. As his foot disappeared, she took the opportunity to lunge for the opening.

Nobody below saw her slip through, they were too distracted by the death everywhere.
Good thing I got out of there before the retching started, she thought to herself, and licked the blood off of her fingertips. The roof was safe, for the moment.
"Look at them all," the filtered voice whispered as the masked murderer approached the edge of the building and looked down stealthily at the ant-like police officers swarming the streets below...

"They think they can actually do something... As though every step they take isn't completely wasted and not merely prolonging their eventual, gory death..."

The figure rolled over onto his back; leg hanging off the edge as he stared up into the night sky. "Half of the fun is figuring out how to escape..."
"Fun?" Daemala flared. This was not her idea of fun, although it was entertaining. She flicked a piece of gore from her nail, silently stepping towards the killer.

"I've half a mind to punt your ass off the side of the building, for spoiling my supper and good time," she smiled, her fangs slipping into sight. Staring off into the sky, she mused. Watching him fall would be fun, but no. That would be counterproductive. Instead she reached between her breasts, pulled out a smoke and a zippo, and popped it in her mouth.

"It's your move," Daemala hissed playfully, as she flicked the lighter and torched the end of her cancerstick. Ahh...

Main Street 1Setting: Main Street 1


"Goodbye!"

And then, he slid from the edge and fell down below. He didn't hit the ground, but at the same time, nor did he fly away, or float, or swing in back through one of the upper storey windows. Instead he seemed to have just, disappeared.

That is, until he waved to the vampiress from the roof at the other end of the street, where one leg was dangling down and the other was propped up so he could rest his chin on the knee.
She narrowed her eyes as he slipped off of the roof, not splatting on the street below nor fleeting through the night sky. Taking a step closer to the edge, Daemala flicked the ash off the end of her smoke, careful to not let it fall over the edge. The last thing she needed to do was give herself away.

That rascal! There he was, the murderer, the spoiler of her night, perched right there on that building over there. And he was waving at her?

Daemala stomped out her smoke and strode over to the edge of the roof, gripping it and hoisting herself up.
Woosh. She was on another roof.
Woosh, woosh. Daemala was three buildings down, rage hopping from building to building, coming closer to the man that had ruined her night. Even though she really had no business with him, Daemala couldn't help but want to follow him. If not to demand the replacement of her dinner, to pester him, and make him wish that he had never crossed her.
The man watched with only vague interest as the vampiress began to hop towards him, one building at a time.
When she had gotten close enough, the masked figure hopped up to his feet; stretching and yawning in a pirouette as he span to face away and begin running. He wondered if she could keep up with him.
Over the roof he went, jumping from one building to the next, then climbing and flipping with parkour-proficiency up a fire exit stairwell and onto an even higher roof.

He had apparently found a stalker, but that didn't bother him... Indeed, it would be fun to have someone chasing him constantly. She knew part of his secret, more than anyone else... To him, she was the most dangerous thing alive.

And he loved it.
She landed on the rooftop just in time to see the man take off in a run. Amusement flashed across her face as she followed the murderer, it's been a while since an actual challenge has come along!

Daemala flew over rooftops after him, staying in the shadows and keeping a moderate distance. Daemala would play along with this game of cat and mouse, for now.

Hm, impressive, thought Daemala as she raised a brow, watching the man flit up fire escapes to a taller building and disappear over top of it. She, of course, flew upwards towards the top, tapping into the Vampyric skills she usually didn't use in public. But it was night, and there was nobody around.

She tumbled gently onto the rooftop, onto her feet, and rose to face him, again.
"Flying is so gracious, so... Noble and so... Boring," he said as he let off a sigh towards Daemala while he stood and stared at her.
"Anyway, let's get down to business. Why are you following me?" He asked as he tilted his head; the protrusions from the top of his hat(thing) dangling to one side and one of the black voids that made up his eyes came to life...

It was purple.

"Not to be rude, but I would much rather you scoot along and tell the police all about me," he said, as he wafted a hand down as though trying to get rid of her foul stench.
"And I would much rather be drinking the blood of an unsuspecting victim, is i not obvious why I am following you? Not to be rude," She tacked on the last part.

"Besides," Daemala angled herself slightly away from the crazy individual, "I hate the cops."
And she did. Preferring to avoid run ins with the law at all costs, Daemala kept a more rational public profile. Most of the mortal world assumed that she was just like them. Fearing of the immortal, disbanding of evil, Daemala nearly laughed. She fished out another smoke, and lit it up.
"Hmm," she took a puff, peered at him, and sat a smirk on her face, "Do you do shit like this every night?"
"It's none of your business," was all he said to answer as he turned and began to stretch. Now all he wanted was to get away, to go about his own business without this woman stalking him.

"I'm going to leave now," he revealed as he made his way over to the edge of the building. "I'm sure we'll see you again, but not tonight. You will just have to hope you get lucky and stumble upon my scene of crime before the crime is committed."
Hmph. That must mean that he does, Daemala thought to herself, inhaling and exhaling the flavor of nicotine. Usually when people said something was none of her business, it just meant that they had a dirty little secret. Oh, boo hoo. But still, she remained silent, puffing on her cigarette, as the man worked his way to the edge of the rooftop.

"So I take it I don't owe you anything?" She called dauntingly over to him, flicking her smoke. Part of her wanted to watch the killer disappear, and never see him ever again. The other side of her, however, toyed with the thought of...
No. She would never. But maybe...

"Leaving so soon? And I was just going to suggest some fun..." She turned on her heel, and progressed towards the other side of the rooftop. No matter, she could have her fun still, provided he hadn't scared everyone off the streets for the night.
"What type of fun?" He asked as he suddenly stopped and turned around to face the woman.

Cards, perhaps? He loved cards. Perhaps even a slight dabble into the dolls of voodoo? He'd always wanted to try and slowly torture someone to death with their own avatar and a sewing needle. The man shook his head from side to side, then began to make his way towards her.

"Tell me more. I'm intrigued about this suggestion of 'fun'."
Daemala's face twitched with hope, but only for a moment. She peeked over her shoulder, he was now facing her, and making his way towards her.

Turning, she stared at him point blank, hiding her growing amusement. Or at least, trying to, for even in the night one could see the fire that danced in her black eyes.

"Well," she started, folding one arm under the other and placing a hand on her chin. She pretended to contemplate the matter for a moment, as one would contemplate what to cook for desert. Practically the same notion, she thought to herself with glee.
"There will be death, of course..." trailing off, Daemala slipped the man a smirk, before whipping her hair and turning her back on him to hide her widening smile.

After a dramatic pause, a beat, Daemala whirled around to face him yet again, smiling wickedly, fangs protruding and hands fixed like claws.

Wing CitySetting: Wing City


It was time to strike again...

They didn't know it, of course. As they chattered and filmed outside the hotel, that still bore the virgin red ribbon which was yet to be cut by the hands of the Mayor. Oh... This would make him infamous. Every single person would die and he would be free...
For this was also a personal mission; not just the sadistic attempts at bringing 'pleasure' to his life like the massacres before had been... No. Every monster needed his cave, and his was inside... The attic, to be clear. He had done nothing as they reshaped and furnished all the other rooms, he just stalked and watch from the dark, dusty room decorated with 50s broken TV sets and a single, dirty, double mattress in the centre of the room.

But now, tonight, finally, he could get his house back. He had waited to cause the maximum amount of embarrassment and attention, which got closer with every passing second as The Harlequin moved into position within the crowd... Invisible, but deadly.
It was an extraordinary day, at least for the humans. She lingered in the back of the crowd, long black hair swept over her left shoulder, a loose red day dress flowing to her knees. Her face was shadowed by a large red hat, which was adorned with black crinoline flowers and strings of pearls. The hat matched her outfit perfectly, her red dress with the black under-bust corset, pearl necklace gently circling her neck. She kept her attention focused on the others around her, remaining eerily still in the large crowd.

Today was a day for something new, that thing being completely different for Daemala than for the humans that chattered with anticipation. She craved new blood, a new flavor. And where else better to pick off an unsuspecting mortal than in a large boisterous crowd in the middle of celebration?

Smiling to herself, she scanned the crowd, picking out the perfect victim
And then, he stepped in front of Daemala. The last time they had met, most of his face had been obscured in shadow and blood... But his hair and possible the edge of his face would be recognizable.
He smiled sweetly into the crowd, as he peered up at the Mayor who held the scissors triumphantly..
Then he cast all notions of 'doubt' into the ocean to drown, for the man raised The Harlequin's mask and slid it over his head...

No-one recognized him for who he was, of course... But as he peered down to the feet of those in front and shivered; savouring the moment that was coming... He knew they soon would.
A familiar scent caused her nostrils to flare. The last time she had smelled that scent...
The crowd grew quieter, as the Mayor prepared to cut the ribbon. But there was something about that smell that unsettled Daemala. She associated it with death, inconvenience, and hunger.

She stifled a gasp, she knew it! Her senses rarely betrayed her, and as the source of the scent slipped a mask over his head, her gaze hardened.
This again. Quickly, she calculated the nearest slip away, before realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Oh hell no. She was not about to lose her damned lunch again! Frustrated, Daemala shuffled forward a step, flinging out her foot (which had a black, shiny, expensive and rather pointy high heeled shoe on it, mind you) and kicking the man.
The heel hit him in the leg... The sharp paint blunting into his muscle and causing alarm bells to siren through his body. His mind wanted him to scream, but his body wouldn't let him...
He was in a state of almost pre-meditation. NOTHING. Absolutely NOTHING, was gong to ruin this... Or break his cover.
And so, although it pained him, he reacted in no other way than slipping a butterfly knife into the spine of the man in front of him, and sighing as he quietly crumbled and began to bleed...

He then turned again, slashing a woman across the throat who stood to his side; opposite Daemala. The crowd, although nervous, were yet to fully realize what was happening and break out into panic.
Her eyes widened, and then snapped shut. The smell of fresh flowing blood filled the air, and she felt her fangs slip out, poking at her lower lip. But still, she kept her mouth closed like her eyes, not knowing what she would do if she tasted the air.

Blood, right near her. This fool is going to-argh!

People around started to murmur, the crowd grew uneasy. With a curt sigh, Daemala turned to the still living human to her side, smiled, and worked her charm.

"Lovely weather!" Her enchanting voice captivated him, and also the surrounding 20 people. With a smile, she shooed their eyes forward, using her vampyric powers to essentially control them. She didn't like to think of it as controlling, more like... Strong suggesting... that worked.

She kept her eyes on the crazy man. He should feel lucky, she thought to herself. Vampires usually weren't the type to help people such as this, but if she didn't do something, she would lose her mind
What fun was a crowd that didn't scream, he asked himself as he slipped the knife from an Anterior Spinal Artery with near surgeon precision.
He peered at the woman who was responsible; his mask hiding all possible emotion from view as he turned and made his way back through the others; slicing and stabbing as he saw fit until a pathway was formed to the very front, with a carpet of flesh blood behind him.

Using a white napkin to calmly wipe the blood from his blade, he looked on as the Mayor finally cut the ribbon, then began to move up the six stone stairs towards him; brandishing menacingly. Maybe this one would incite the crowd?
Cursing under her breath, Daemala surged through the crowd after the masked murderer. Was this idiot trying to make her life miserable? She stopped breathing as she watched him take down another. No, she would not let the Beast consume her, not here, not now.

Following him, she excused herself, pushing her way past bodies and collecting the eyes of the crowd. He beauty was truly enchanting, so enchanting that the mortals merely saw the pooling blood as a compliment to her outfit. She pointed up at the Mayor, hoping the humans would look. Most of them did, but some towards the back were beginning to grow antsy.

Just a couple dead bodies in front of Daemala, the masked man wiped his blade. The Mayor had cut the ribbon, and only half the crowd acknowledged it. The hell is he up to now, she thought to herself, and felt her gut drop as he made his way up the stairs.

Fool! Climbing carefully over corpses, she tried her best to stay hot on his tail, waving to the humans below as she stepped onto the stairs. Discomfort was spreading through the crowd.
An upward kick was all it took; the shears leaving the Mayor's hand with a gasp as the masked man caught them, then, without a fuss, drove the barely opened pair of blades into the elderly man's throat.
He left them there, but wasn't finished until he grabbed the collar of the man and then span; launching him into the crowd below.
He didn't have to kill them all and in fact this time, he wanted some of them to escape.

That was when he looked down at the stalker Daemala and let out an exaggerated warning hiss. She kept spoiling all his fun and he didn't like it. "Go away," he growled, as he raised his knife to her. "Or my hand may just slip..."
Again, a corpse flew right by her. Was this guy serious? The Mayor? Did he know how long it took this city to finally find a semi-ok one? Well, neither did she, but that didn't give him the right to spoil her lunch like this! Yes, call her selfish, but when you become as old a Vampire as Daemala, you really come to appreciate hiding your true identity. It does more than make the job easy...

Daemala opened her mouth, letting out a feral hiss that could be heard over the now panicking crowd. There was nothing she could do to distract them from that charade! Her fangs poked out and her lips snarled.

"And what? Paralyze me? Cut me?" She spit the words at him, rapid fire, under her breath, old Italian accent seeping through her words.
"Please, mortal, cut the shit and stop ruining my lunch!"
Why didn't she just go and pick one of the runners off? He asked himself, as he watched the crowd panic and flee. In this situation, no-one would even notice... Or was she simply so lazy she didn't want to run?

That was when he heard it. The door slam... The bars lock. He turned his head around to see the glass doors covered up with curtains. Ahh yes, it was obvious now. The staff had run inside and hid. There was now an entire building full of people at his mercy.

"Your lunch is in there," he said as he gestured to the door with a thumb.

He wouldn't be using the main entrance, though. Instead his knife went away and he ran at and cleanly up the wall until his hands gripped the first climbing space. The drain pipe was next; he took it all the way up to the roof.
She faltered as the doors slammed shut, and raised a brow at the mad man as he told her where to find lunch. Was he serious? She watched as he hid the knife and progressed towards the roof via drainpipe.

Hm... She looked back at the crowd, not wanting his sloppy seconds. She had a certain way of feeding, a way a bit more clean, a bit more...well, more than just cold murder. Besides, it would be easier to overtake someone unsuspecting than a panicking human.
With a sigh, Daemala stomped to the edge of the building, grabbing hold and half climb half flying up towards the roof to follow him.

"Wait for me!" She called up, wanting to at least be able to pick her prey. There had better still be one alive for her inside.
They had refurnished the inside and added a state of the art security system, but they had never changed the structure of the building itself. The vents on the roof were open as he finally reached it. He didn't wait for the vampiress, he simply slipped inside and slid down into the room hidden within the air conditioning system.

It had once been an old suite whose door had been walled off. He had never understood how they missed it, or why they left it there behind the wall... But it was dusty, dirty and filled with nothing other than desks, stacked tables, chairs and a mattress strewn across the floor. The one window was covered in brown and the only sunlight getting through hit another filter in the way of striped blinds.

The man landed on the mattress as he slid down; hitting it with a 'puff' and sending dust and feathers into the air. He then began to skulk around... Something in that room was obviously interesting to him.

Lectre Mansion Grand BallroomSetting: Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom


It was 1953, Christmas Time. Snow glistened in the windows and the candle light was warm and welcoming. Guests dressed in their holiday best filled the ball room. They munched on hors d'oeuvres and paid no attention to the woman in the striking red gown. Mostly because she was standing in the shadows, but also because she wished to not be seen. Tonight was an ordinary night for Daemala. To the mortals, it was the night of a lifetime.
It had been a wonderful year. 1953 was most certainly her time to shine, and she was proud of her work. Not everyone could just become a successful pin-up girl, just like that! You had to have the right features, the proper attitude. Spunk! Lyra took in the atmosphere with a deep breath as a stout man approached her to kiss her hand. Blushing, she of course allowed him too, as he flattered her up and down. Lyra played modest, thanking the man and blushing. It felt good to be appreciated!

"Honey" She felt his hand on her shoulder before she heard him speak. The stout man flustered and excused himself, while Carl stared darkly after him.

"Really?" It was her turn to shoot dirty looks. She spun to face him, cheeks hot and eyes flaring. The nerve of him!
Oh oh, now what was that over there? Daemala recognized the figure, how could she not it was the talk of the town, but who was that man? Twisting up her mouth, she chewed on the inside of her lip, staring down the two. She seemed upset with him, riotous even! Mmm... She could smell her blood boiling from here.

She placed a hand on her chin as she watched them. Oh this was going to get exciting, they were exchanging words! Her curiosity got the better of her, Daemala stepped into the light of the room and joined the party.
"What?" Carl really thought he did nothing wrong. In a sense, he didn't, the stout man was surely eyeballing his woman.

"That was rude!" Lyra would have none of it. That man was her clientele, and her clientele could care less about her man and his opinions! Of course, Lyra would never say something like that aloud. Instead she narrowed her eyes at him, and placed a hand gently on a hip.

"Unbecoming of you, really," He said in response, to which Lyra flicked her blond curls over her shoulder and gazed into the distance as if she didn't hear him. This was her party, damn it! She could pout if she wants to.
Oh this sure was getting juicy. Daemala nodded to others in passing, but swiftly avoided conversation with mortals as she crossed the room. She had an ear pricked towards the center of the floor, where a lovely blond in a pink silken gown was quarreling with her mate.

Daemala settled in by the punch bowl, just 10 feet from the disgruntled couple. He had insulted her now, oh oh oh! Smirking, she dipped the ladle into the bowl and fished herself out a vodka soaked strawberry.
"I'll remember that, go on, play ignorant," He was smiling as he said it, she could tell. His tone might not of been harsh, but his words hurt. Lyra had just about had enough of him for the evening. Really, did he have to ruin everything? Always?

"Why hello there!" She had been to busy pouting, Lyra didn't even notice him approach. Sure enough, there stood the Mayor, beaming and shaking hands with Carl. "Quite a winner you've got there!" A woman joke, Lyra laughed along with the men.

"Mayor Aminki, allow me to introdu-" But Carl was there, barreling over her.

"Carl Rogers, media entrepreneur," Carl said with a wink, much to Lyra's disgust. The mayor smiled wider, if that was even possible, and chuckled along with Carl's boasting. Ugh...

"If you'll excuse me," but they already had, Lyra slipped away to anywhere but there, with Carl. She headed for the punch table.
She watched as the blond approached, clearly flustered. Silently, she nursed her drink, being sure not to look directly at the woman. Her name was Lyra, she knew it from the profile she had. Nothing too in depth or creepy, but she knew about the girl. Who didn't know the calendar girl?

Looking past her, she noticed her man was..flirting with the Mayor? Odd behavior, really. Someone should stop the poor man before he makes a complete fool of himself! Daemala studied the interaction with a steady gaze, but grew bored after a few moments. Fools.

She turned her eyes onto Lyra, the blond bombshell who stood before her. Adjusting her posture, she took a step towards the woman, curling her blood red lips into a smile.
"Enjoying the Ball?"
Really the nerve of him. Such a cocky anus. She dreaded returning home with him, perhaps she could find a warm after party at a politicians house... Scooping herself a glass of punch, she allowed herself to slip deep into thought.
Apparently she was thinking so hard, she didn't even notice the dark haired woman with blood red lips.

"Enjoying the Ball?"
She nearly choked on her drink, and flung a hand up to her mouth to hide her expression. Was she talking to her? With a flick of her hair, she turned to face the woman. Oh my, she was striking, magnetic. Her beauty was undeniable, Lyra blushed.

"Yes, thank you," She was having trouble keeping eye contact with the woman's fierce gaze.
"And yourself?"

Gambit's BarSetting: Gambit's Bar


Widening her eyes in the slightest, Daemala was pleased to see she had locked him in. She readjusted herself, not breaking eye contact, leaning onto the table with an elbow. She grabbed the wine glass up and swilled the dark liquid around, bringing it closer to her face. Inhaling slowly and without blinking, she carefully thought out her next move.

"I do require slight assistance with a matter not nearly as trivial as ordering wine," a wicked smile erupted onto her face.
She was taken aback, appalled even. A hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened with disgust.
"How dare you!" How dare he! Assume things like that, insult her like that! But wait, did this mean that...That he knows? She swallowed, and blinked, took a deep breath in then let it back out.

"And to think I was going to offer you help!" Her eyes narrowed, and she continued to pierce him with her stare.
"You mortals think you have the upper hand," She lowered her tone to an incredulous whisper, " because we beings of the night require your blood to sustain life," Had she said too much? No, screw it, "But let me tell you something, Lawrence, there is a fate worse than un-death." With that she smiled, wickedly, and broke eye contact with the man.

Lectre Mansion Grand BallroomSetting: Lectre Mansion Grand Ballroom


She had raised the glass to her lips, holing up a finger and winking when prompted for a response. Her evening was going well, better than she expected. Months of speculation and planning have all lead up to this very moment. She delicately placed the glass back on the table, lifting her jaw and keeping her back straight, staring at Lyra all the while.

"Grand!" She flashed her white teeth with a benevolent smile, but quickly closed her lips. She was a fast one, Daemala, and didn't blow her cover easily. Again, she flicked her eyes over the girls shoulder, then offered a sympathetic smile.

"Men?"
"Oh," She blushed, forcing her eyes downward. Carl was proving to be more trouble than he was worth at this juncture. She had the goods, though, and she was the one in the money. Not him. Brushing an invisible strand behind her ear, Lyra sighed.

"Yes, well," A guffawing sound rocketed through the air behind her, and she couldn't help but cringe. Blinking back frustration, she offered a white gloved hand.

"Lyra."
Ugh, her eyelids fluttered at the sound of the laugh, smile stiffening into a more pained expression. What she would do to rip his throat out right now!
But no. Daemala was not here for a treat tonight. She had much more serious intentions.

"Delia,
Yes, it was mildly surprising that a woman of this nature had such a simple name. Non the less,she smiled, "How nice," and shuffled a step towards Delia. The best to disassociate herself with Carl, the goon.

"Well it most certainly's a pleasure," Lyra took another sip of her punch, taking her time, doing her best to ignore the scene behind her.
"It would be," The mutter 'slipped' out before she could suppress it, and a hand flew to her mouth, hiding a smirk. Her eyes widened with mock horror as she stared into Lyra's again.

"Excuse me," She said, curling an arm around her abdomen and curling the other next to her mouth, "But I think that fellow knocked one too many back." Daemala flicked her eyes in the direction of Carl Rogers, who was vigorously shaking the hand of the mayor. To her greatest amusement, the mayor looked as though he wanted to do nothing more than escape!

"Do you... Know him?"
Ugh, she closed her eyes and squeezed them shut, not daring to look. She was going to kill him later! Gently, she cleared her throat. This party was turning out to be a total bust.

"Yes, I..." But she had no explanation that fit. Lyra didn't want to claim the man as her fiance, not when in that deep of a state of inebriation. Suddenly, the thought struck her. All of the happiness seeped down into the floor, and her body grew cold. What if he screwed up her career?
"Oh he will, Darling,"
Nonchellant, a whisper in the air. She threw the premonition out like an icicle, hurtling through the air towards the lovely blond.
Suddenly, Daemala became disinterested, and reached for her punch glass.
Lyra Drelas stared at the woman in shock, did she really just say that? No, it couldn't be. In all reality, however, Lyra's ears did not deceive her. She averted her eyes, smoothing the sides of her baby pink gown. This was getting weirder and weirder. In the background, some twenty feet behind her, she could hear Carl. Her cheeks flushed at the sound of his voice, he was so embarrassed! Sloshed, as well.
Daemala Tauvyr smirked. Ah, yes, the evening playing out nicely. Soon enough she would do what she has waited centuries to do. Daemala's nostrils flared at the sweet scent of Lyra's blood rushing to her cheeks. Silently, she sipped on her punch, watching the woman beside her with a hawk's eye.
He was dancing; nothing too flashy, just a casual on-beat-with-the-music dance utilizing his entire body. He was plain-clothed; dark hair fashioned after popular celebrities at the time - mostly newly rising star of "Rock'n'Roll" Elvis Presley.

He also wore a combination of jeans - apparently frowned upon by some of the more 'mature' members of society at the time, and a light pink polo shirt with a yellow tie.

Heck, he didn't care about his clothes. As long as he could pass for a relatively average person, he knew he was in!
"Excuse me, if you don't mind me asking," She lowered her voice so few would hear, "Who... are you?" Careful not to catch Delia's eye, she shot the question out of nowhere. Her superstitions were getting the best of here, were this woman's eyes especially red, her skin notably pale? No, no.
Daemala smiled, this girl was smarter than she expected. Good. Placing her cup down and shifting her weight, she exhaled. She fixed a charming smile on her face and whispered,

"Delia, I write the Weekly Press's Fashion and Gossip column," A complete and total lie.
"And wouldn't you know who's a person of interest," Another lie, but she capped it off with a wink.
He began to edge closer to them...

A girl span into his arms; he twirled her, span her back out and then released her back into the crowd... He moved as though he'd been dancing and attending such social events for years!
And in a way, he had.

They were just over there... He glanced at them occasionally, but only when it seemed most natural and never for more than a second. He couldn't yet hear what they were saying, but their lips betrayed a method of communication.

Oh indeed... It wouldn't be long now..!
"Me?" She flushed again, a hand flying to her bosom. She blinked and swooned, feeling the fame. Her eyes slipped back over to Carl, who was on his way back to the bar, and hate bubbled inside of her like lava. Yes, he would see.
"You don't say." She was speechless, and looked the captivating woman in the eye. Right... in...the eye.
Daemala nodded, locking in on the girls gaze. Hook, line, and sinker as some would say. Placing her empty punch cup on the table, she smiled at Lyra.

"Walk with me," She said, placing a hand on Lyra's arm and leading her towards the back of the room. Essentially, towards the door. She could feel someone's eyes on the back of her, but didn't factor in the strangers gaze. Yes, it was all going according to plan.

"Have you ever signed a contract, deary?"
She was leading her out towards the back? Oh, what a perfect moment... He had such a chance, here!

The dancing stopped a little, instead following them in a pattern of slides, rather than twirls, spins and inter-swapping partners with all the ladies of the floor.
But he was staying close... Close enough that he could hear their communications, yet not close enough to audibly correlate the sounds he heard with any specific words in the dictionary.

Social stealth... It was so exciting, so... Invigorating. He loved it.
"Yes of course!" Lyra nodded along with Delia's words, captivated by them. Where were they going? Oh what did it matter, she was famous. How she has always dreamed of seeing her name in print, oh she could just see it now!

Many smiled and nodded to her as they passed, and Lyra could hear her name being muttered. Oh this was fabulous!
Daemala, of course, still had her hand on Lyra's arm, and was walking swiftly to the back of the room. Her posture was firm and she stood tall, her dark hair swept up into an intricate up do. As she passed people, she nodded to them and locked their eyes, sometimes mouthing the word "Lyra" if their will was hard to sway. Soon most were acknowledging them in passing.
It worked.
Oh, it was beautiful being a vampire.

Daemala could smell the adrenaline pulsing through Lyra. She flicked a tongue over her fangs, and picked up her pace. Time was of the essence. Not really, but she was growing impatient. Flicking her gaze back at Lyra, Daemala smiled. The young woman was practically glowing.

"Well then, Darling, Let's make a deal."
His hand was now in his pocket; sliding over and pricking himself on the blade of the small pocket knife hidden in his somewhat baggy jeans...

He was bleeding; the sting and the feel of wet in his pocket confirmed. Oh... He wouldn't wait. This wasn't a knife that could kill with a quick jab; no... It was for piercing, slicing slowly through flesh, skin, vein, ligament and muscle...

He pulled his arm out and let it dangle down at his side; a few spots of crimson dripping to the floor from a cut on the index finger of his right hand.

He was still following them, eyes fluctuating... Mouth watering... Skin tingling. Not long left to wait..!
"Yes! Let's!"
She reached for the door, to open it for Delia. After all the woman was doing for her! Lyra glanced around the room as she held open the door, something seemed slightly amiss, but she couldn't decipher exactly what. With a blink, she turned her attention back to Delia.
She was halfway through the door when she froze, irises rapidly expanding and every nerve on her body standing at attention. Was that... fresh blood? Again, she licked her fangs, turning her face towards the source of the blood.
No. She stopped, snapping her attention forward, and pushing herself through the door. Quick, it had to be shut behind them. Oh no. Oh hell.
Shit.
"Come, come!" She ushered Lyra, her voice frantic, for the girl was still holding the damned door open. To hell with manners! She stomped a foot.
He grinned so sweetly at the woman who was holding open the door against her friends wishes... He rubbed at his hair; "letting it down"... And raised his shirt to take the Harlequin's mask from where it had been held against his bare body.

"Hello darling," he greeted the girl... While slowly slipping the mask over his face and pulling it down with his hands until he became one with the madness held within. "Would you like some entertainment?"

He lunged forwards; trying to push her back and take control of the door so it couldn't be closed against him.
Lyra Drelas shrieks and claws at the strange man, attempting to slam the door shut on him.
She grabs Lyra's wrist, and tried to pull her from the scene. Damn this!

"You! What are you doing?" This was all too exasperating, and the blood-!
He was delayed in his pursuit. The door had been closed upon him because a man nearby had grabbed his shirt from the back and stopped him from pushing through. So the door was closed and Lyra pulled away by Daemala...

Oh, what fun. But as he pulled himself out of the man's grasp, he knew that first he had to stop anyone from pursuing him... So he turned, taking the knife out of his pocket and forcing himself upon the man who grabbed him; toppling them to the ground.

Blood-curdling screams rang out, as he carved through victim's face. A moment later, he stood up; now splattered with blood and watching the rest of the room run, scream and piss themselves.

Then he turned around, opened the door and stepped through into the night. "Where are you my sweet little thing?" He called out into the chilled eve.

Wing CitySetting: Wing City


Lyra Drelas was in shock, being dragged by Delia around the corner and under a fire escape.
She dragged Lyra around the corner and under a fire escape, moving swiftly. A voice called out, eerily carrying on the mist of the night. There she stood, pressed firmly against the wall. This was not going good. She could hear Lyra's heart, and it smelled delicious, but it also reminded her of one thing.
Lyra was still mortal.
While Daemala would have no problem scaling the fire escape, Lyra would prove useless right now. There was not enough time to change her. Daemala kicked off her heels and lowered herself into the shadows behind a dumpster, dragging Lyra down with her.
There they hid, Daemala prepared to defend. A thought crossed her mind, but Daemala tucked it away.
He stepped out into the alleyway... Right by the dumpster where Daemala and Lyra were hidden. Yet he didn't notice them.
Nor did he move; instead he prowled there, silently. Eerily tilting his head to slowly gaze at his surroundings. They were here, he knew it.. So close...

Oh, Daemala and him? They were quite the item. He knew that she knew that running would be completely stupid. She had some interest in that girl and the moment they 'legged it', she would be at risk.

So, hidden it was then. Hoping, perhaps, that he passed them by...?

No...

He turned his head, staring down the side of the dumpster.
Lyra Drelas crouched in fear.
It was now or never. She unlocked her jaw, and lunged at the man, aiming to take him down and pin him, to sink her teeth into his flesh. Would she kill him? She didn't know. Right now she just wanted to taste some freaking blood.
The Harlequin never expected that Daemala would actively attack him, so the arm that raised the knife to defend himself was slow and didn't make it in time. He was thrown back and pinned to the ground; the piercing feeling sinking into him... It hurt... He knew this feeling.

It was the feeling he had shared with so many other people. Now he was experiencing it himself... An external force penetrating his flesh...

He twitched.
Lyra Drelas was still crouching there all scared and useless and pathetic
As she drained him of his blood, a thought struck her mind.

It was too perfect. Too perfect! She would be rid of him and...

Oh this was rich.

She could taste it, he was almost empty. Daemala pulled back, slicing her wrist on his blade simultaneously. Yes. It was perfect. Smirking, she held her wrist over his mouth, letting the blood drip onto his face. She intended for him to drink it.

This was better than she could have ever hoped for.

"Welcome to Undeath!"
"Grhnn.." He had been twitching through the entire ordeal... Drained... Lifeless... Cold.

His mask had been pulled away in the struggle and as she held her wrist over his mouth... He opened... Tongue stretching out; desperate. He wasn't ready to die... He would take any alternative.

So into his system it went, hitting the back of his mouth... Falling into his pipes and his innards...
Lyra Drelas tentatively rose, but her heel snapped, and she fell, hitting her head on the dumpster.
Daemala Tauvyr had done it. Had sired a vampire. Now she had to do something with the corpse before it woke back up. She looked back towards Lyra, who had been knocked unconscious. With a sigh, she crossed to her body and dragged her upright, leaning her against the side of the dumpster. She looked back at her new kin, feeling pride swell inside of her.
He was after all, her first one. She attempted to drag him near Lyra, and walked to the edge of the alley to hail a cab.
The Harlequin had passed out; entirely at the mercy of the vampire who just drained him...

Castle Vankoryth Upper LevelSetting: Castle Vankoryth Upper Level


"Sorry, gang!" Dominic cried, chipper as ever. "I had to let nature take its course. What did I miss?"