Daavid's Story

Two hundred dollars. That’s how much the old lady at the airport had given him. And a smile was all it took. The TSA agent told him of The Red Huntsman when Daavid enquired about where he could find the best wine in town. He gave Daavid a hundred dollars. Poor chap. I hope he has money left over to survive the day.
He was standing in front of The Red Huntsman wearing what he always wore, a Brown suit and black Jeans. It was a small pub surrounded by what looked like apartments. It had been a few days since he had heard of the ‘Immortal’. At first he wasn’t interested. It was Foxx News after all, no one trusted them. The story spread, but what made him leave his experiments, Mr. and Mrs. Yagami, was a realization. He had left Edu when too many people greeted him with, “You look same as ever.”
He couldn’t just stop experimenting, no matter what. He needed one immediately. As he entered the pub he saw two likely candidates. A young couple in the far corner and the woman reading a book seated in the window side table. The others were the usual culprits found in every bar. The Leader, the Dealer, the Rat, the Hunk, etc. He went to the bar counter and stood there waiting for the barman to come to him.
“Yes?” asked the barman. He looked at the lady in the blue and said, “Whiskey?”
“Beer,” said the barman. He filled a jug and gave Daavid a big glass. He smiled at the barman and reached into his pocket. “Don’t worry. It’s on the house,” interrupted the smiling barman. Ofcourse it is, thought Daavid and with the jug in one hand and the glass in the other, he reached the table where the lone woman was sitting. He looked at her. She was nothing special but she wasn’t bad either. He smiled, out of habit, eventhough she wasn’t looking and asked, “May I sit here?”

Vanessa looked up when she heard a voice and it took her brain a moment to process what he had asked. She glanced around the room for a moment to note all the empty tables and chairs before returning her gaze back to the man before her. He reminded her of Hitler's version of a "perfect race" and for a moment thought she could place him as one of Hitler's generals, but the thought lingered only for a moment. She had to remind herself that there would always be people that looked like those she had met in her past, but that was simply because she had met so many people. Still, she was wondering why he had decided to sit at her table rather than at another.

"Yes, you may," she said calmly, "Dislike sitting by yourself?"

The question was presented with no intent of offending the man, she simply wanted an explanation as to why he chose to sit with her instead of those around her. As she waited for his response, her eyes moved to the woman who had just entered the bar and she watched as the woman ordered a drink Vanessa had not seen in a very long time. Last time she saw it she happened to be out of the country, but she couldn't exactly place where. She almost wanted some herself, but in the long run decided her beer was just as appeasing to the taste buds. Her eyes turned back to the man before her, still curious as to his answer. She disliked appearing rude and decided it best to close her book and appear as though her full attention was on the man before her. He at least had a charming smile and seemed pleasant enough to garner her attention.

Daavid sat down and looked at the woman. Smiling he said, “This seat has the best view,” and pointed towards the park some distance away. Three streets joined up right in front of the pub forming an inverted ‘T’ if seen from inside the pub. The park was situated about two hundred meters on the street directly coming towards the entrance.

Daavid wasn’t lying. The view of the park from the other seats was blocked by trees, people, a lamp post, a post box, and a bus stand. Looking at parks and green landscapes reminded him of the time in Munich when spent four cold nights in a park to build up stamina. The plan had failed but it was certainly a nice experience.

Daavid noticed the woman looking at someone behind him. He poured some of the beer in his glass and pushed the jug in the direction of the woman who sat across him. “Please help yourself. I cannot drink this much,” he said.

Regardless of anything, she was now his new experiment. So he started thinking about his approach.

What kind of a male figure does she want right now? Father? I aint old enough to be a father figure. A brother? If she wants a brother she will ask me for help without giving too much detail. If she wants a lover, she’ll eagerly listen to me. If she wants a friend, she’ll tell me everything. If she wants a son… She’s too young.

Suddenly Daavid remembered something. She had asked a question. A fucking question! Eventhough he was smiling. His smile didn’t work well on her… What now? He needed more intel on her before he could proceed. Should he choose another target? No way. This would be a nice challenge.

“Please, don’t mind me,” he said when he saw she had closed her book. Just ignore me. He couldn’t waste time here anymore. He’d act like he is interested in whatever she might say and leave in an hour or two. He continued watching people sitting in the park.

She followed his finger to see where he was pointing and was slightly surprised at the clear her table gave. So he wasn't lying, which eased her a small fraction but she was still left with uncertainty. She turned her gaze back towards him when he spoke again and saw what he was offering, a glass of beer. A small smile spread across her lips as she looked at the glass, for she had finished her's just moments before. The great thing about being immortal was that poisons didn't really kill you. Some caused pain, this was true, but she doubted that the man before her had poisoned her glass anyway. Her Guardian would have probably been bothering her by now if the man had indeed did anything to the drink. This thought made her realize that her Guardian had actually been rather quiet, almost too quiet. She didn't dwell on it long, he never left even when she wanted him to.

"A man who looks fit to be a soldier cannot finish a glass of beer?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, a slightly amused expression on her face, "No matter, I thank you for your offer and I find that I cannot decline."

She oftentimes forgot that it didn't appear natural or normal for an average sized woman to drink a couple beers and appear as though there were no hints of alcohol in them. Thankfully her forgetfulness had yet to land her into any trouble and she hoped that today would be no different as she took hold of the beer and downed nearly half without a thought. Now that she wasn't reading her book her only distraction from time, other than the man and potentially those around her, was the beer. Though the man almost seemed upset by her turning her attention away to the book and to him and for a moment she was confused. Perhaps he was simply being polite? It was the only explanation she could think of.

"Please, the least I can do is to entertain you in conversation in return for the beer. If it's any consolation I've read so many biographies about Joan d'Arc that I can live waiting to read the rest of this one."

She moved her hand to reveal the book she had been reading. It was indeed a biography of Joan d'Arc with a picture of a painting resembling Vanessa on the front. Vanessa read the different biographies mainly for humor, finding it rather hilarious the many things authors came up with to fill in the blank pieces in history. Sometimes they would get actual events completely wrong. All in all it provided Vanessa with a good laugh. As she raised her glass to take another sip of beer, her eyes wandered over to the girl sitting at the bar and noticed her fiddling with what appeared to be a Celtic cross. Vanessa wondered if the girl was actually Irish or just seemed to enjoy Irish things, like the cross and the meade.

"A man who looks fit to be a soldier cannot finish a glass of beer?" she had said. He would have replied, "Beer makes one fat," but he was lost in thought at that time so he didn't reply.

"Please, the least I can do is to entertain you in conversation in return for the beer. If it's any consolation I've read so many biographies about Joan d'Arc that I can live waiting to read the rest of this one," she replied and that made Daavid smile. Ofcourse you'll entertain me. You are my experiment after all. But who is Joan d'Arc? Joan? Joan... He knew she was famous, but who was she?

The pub was starting to fill, but with wierdos. A woman asking for meade and a man for Sake? What in the world was happening? His thought meandered about for a while and then he stood up.

"Please excuse me, ma'am. But I must leave. Let me take care of the bill for the both of us," he said to the woman and placed a hundred dollar bill on the table. As he started leaving, it dawned on him. Joan d'Arc was the French woman in the Hundred Years War books. He looked back at the cover and smiled at the woman, "I would refrain from using Joan d'Arc's biographies. She is shown as a hero, a mary-sue. The books on The Hundred Year War should provide a much better and real version of her."

He had chosen the lover figure for her. Even though the jug he got was 'on the house' and she probably had already paid for her drink, cannot a lover do this much for her?

A few seconds later he was outside. Now, it's time to find the immortal. He's become quite famous, thought Daavid as he walked towards the bus stop. Atleast twice he overheard a conversation regarding the immortal, on the way to the pub. "Immortal? Hah! That would be pretty fucking dumb," one of the men had said. So Daavid smiled and took all his money. He gave all that he had to beggar and said, "Be a good man," and so the beggar become his pet project.

He took a taxi to the White House. It was a large building but only had a small fence to protect it. Now to meet someone important

“Senator Wesley, how are you?” enquired a smiling Daavid. They were walking on the main path towards the White House.

Senator Wesley turned around. Senator Wesley was suspicious at first. Who is this guy? How’d he get in?but Daavid’s smile destroyed any suspicions. “Hello friend. I’m fine.” Then both Senator Wesley and Daavid began to walk towards the main door. They were behind a group of people, sightseers. Three men in black suits surrounded them as the crowd looked around and murmured.

Good, the smile is working, Daavid thought. Only a few people could answer back with question when he smiled. That lady back in the bar was the fourth. Fourth since 1986, that is. He knew very less about his life before that weird and pretty insane night in London, 17 December, 1983. It was weird and insane in the nightmares he had.

Daavid searched for any information about that day. He found out that a building had been bombed by the IRA killing six and injuring many. Two bodies were never identified and one wasn’t found. He wanted to go back there. Maybe it would help him remember? But Daavid feared someone would recognize him. Also since then, he has hated Irish people, even though he probably wasn’t even there during the attack. Everything after that till the day he landed in Paris was a blur, a bloody blur.

Daavid’s thought train was derailed when they reached the tourist crowd. Most greeted Senator Wesley. Daavid did not mind being ignored but nearly lost his head when someone muttered, “Damn Nazi.” He merely smiled at the crowd and entered the building.

“He is my friend. Please take care of his needs,” said the Senator while pointing towards Daavid. He then turned towards Daavid and said, “I have a meeting with the President. Please have a seat here in the reception area.” Daavid could have met the President. A smile was all it took. But he already risked a lot coming here. He refused politely to the man who offered him to bring him refreshments.

He was careful not to smile anymore, lest he affect someone adversely. His smile was a lethal weapon. But it could only be used on people who didn’t have any unusual aspirations or motivation or something like that.

Most people only wanted more power or money, or wanted to live a nice quiet life. The smile worked extremely well on them. On people who wanted revenge, were extremely insecure or didn’t care much about living, (suicidal) it didn’t work that well. He was just a random good looking guy with a nice smile to them. On people with very important secrets, it didn’t work at all.

When another person offered him refreshments, he accepted politely. He looked at the paintings at the wall while eating the Oreo biscuit. A nice collection… Soon he fell asleep.

….. On people with very important secrets, it didn’t work at all…..

Forty Eight Forty Nine. Forty Eight Fifty… argh! I’ve had enough!

“Let me the hell out, NOW!” shouted Daavid. But no one responded. They had been driving for an hour. Actually he was stuck in bean bag in the back of the van. “Fucking let me out!” No reply.

He started kicking about. After a while the van stopped. The door to the van opened. The men dragged him outside and removed the knot of the bag. Daavid quickly squirmed out. He was covered in sweat and smelled very bad. He stood up and started shouting again at the two men who stood in front of him, “What the hell is going on?!” which quickly turned into apologies once they pulled out their guns. They waited for him to calm down, which he eventually did, quickly.

Daavid looked around. They were in front of an abandoned building, which could have been a mansion looking at its ruins. Behind them was a small road continuing on till the eye could see. Daavid could swear he heard waves crashing onto rocks. “Let’s go,” said the bigger of the two men after looking at his watch.

Daavid quietly followed. His head was hurting but he moved with them to show he wasn’t afraid. If this hadn’t happened to him before, he would have still been sitting near the car crying like a baby. One morning in January, 1998 he had been kidnapped by the Underworld of Mumbai. Luckily the police showed up for a drugs bust and he managed to get away. Looking at the building he had just entered, chances of the police arriving here were very slim.

It took them a few flights of stairs and some jumping over and moving around rubble to get to a room. There were two chairs, one of which was occupied by a tall thin man, and a small hanging light bulb between the chairs. “Please sit down mister…” he looked at Daavid.

“So you are the torturer? The name’s Daavid by the way,” said Daavid and sat on the chair. The man smiled and pointed towards the spot between them. Promptly that spot was occupied by a small table on which was a bottle of ice cold beer, judging from the water droplets, and two glasses, courtesy one of the guards. “Please, I’ve heard Germans like beer,” spoke the man while pouring beer for himself.

“Can you tell me your name?” asked Daavid smiling at the other man. The man smiled back, “No can do, mister.”

What the hell? Does everyone in Washington have secrets more important than their lives? Of course they did, he realized. This was where the biggest power players in the world called home. Everyone from the President to the neighbourhood whore had important secrets. What secret did this man have? He was a torturer so maybe he was hiding that fact… It was worth a shot…

The man looked at his watch and said, “I have two hours before you are scheduled to die. So, let’s get started…”

“How are your kids?” asked the smiling Daavid. The smile became wider when Daavid looked at the man’s startled and surprised face.

Jackpot…

(OOC: I’m extremely sorry. There was a large time span between my last post and the next post so I thought you all left.)

Daavid knew he had won. When one has tortured some of the most brilliant minds, one remembers such things, thought Daavid. The man stood up and signaled the guards. The taller of the guards grunted but left. The man looked at Daavid. Then he moved towards the window, though it would be more accurate to call it a massive hole in the wall.

The sound of the waves was louder now. “Is Senator Wesley the one responsible?” asked Daavid as he started walking towards the man. The man was now in his control and Daavid learned a new thing, or remembered it, who knew? If Daavid knew the secret a man was hiding and the person he was truly hiding it from, Daavid’s smile would start working again.

“No. It was the Project Lazarus’s head Ben Knight,” said the man when Daavid reached him. Ben Knight? Lazarus Project? thought Daavid as cool breeze blew into his face. The sight before him was absolutely stunning. The rising sun, the waves and his victory just made everything sweeter.

“And who is Ben Knight?” “Don’t know. Even the name and project I had overheard. Can I go now?”

Daavid smiled. The man knew what Daavid wanted him to do. “Please, don’t let me stop you,” said Daavid and drank the remaining of the beer in the glass he held. “Have a nice day,” Daavid said smiling.

The man turned back to face Daavid, “Tell my son that his father did it all for him,” he said and stepped back. The man fell off the floor and into the crashing waves below. Don’t worry, you can tell him that when he joins you, thought Daavid as started for the exit.

“I cannot allow you to leave,” said the guard. Fuck! I completely forgot! “You were supposed to die here. I don’t know how you killed him but you will still die,” said the man. Daavid was unable to move, fear had taken over. He stepped back but stopped right at the edge. The man removed his gun and pointed it at Daavid.

Just as the man was about to fire, someone screamed RIGHT!!!. That very instant Daavid moved towards the right, involuntarily. What th- he thought but the voice boomed again BACK!!! and Daavid started falling. “Nooo!!” he shouted but to no avail. The man was looking at him from the hole as Daavid fell. He turned around to face the sea. The last thing he saw was the torturers dead body on the rocks below…

Thank gawd she wasn’t the only one who didn’t think something was right. And then again at least she wasn’t the one who was running head long into the danger either. Étaín would have been happy just to run home to her beloved animals and forget all about the mess, but the goodness that somehow still managed to live in her heart wouldn’t allow her to do so.

She’d taken care of people who had been hurt nearly all of her life. It was something she had prided herself on. So naturally, she ran after Vanessa. This had to have been the feeling of dread she was getting. At least she hoped it was the feeling she was getting. If it wasn’t then she was worried.

Following after the woman, the red haired female was forced to find another way down. She feared about causing a slide of some kind if she went the same direction. So she went the long way, but in the end she came to the same scene as Vanessa had. She repressed a gulp. She hated seeing the dead. She’d seen so many, especially children in Ireland that she would have been happy to never see another one in her life. The other reason being, she wished it was her.

She had tried to commit suicide on multiple occasions, but to no avail. She always lived through it and eventually she had given up. That was when she started getting the pets. Each dog and cat was somehow related to the one she had before and so the line continued just like her.

Étaín recognized the man from the pub as well as she bent down on the other side of the male. Her hands were scuffed a bit from climbing down, but it was easy to see she’d faired much better than the other woman. She was used to them, but only from her time years and years ago in a land she only wished to return to.

“What are we going to do? We can’t possibly carry him ourselves… we don’t know what’s wrong with him…” Her voice was low as if her speaking would wake him and bring him to the world of pain. Of course, she knew she could drag him herself – not. She may have been immortal and ran all of the time, but she wasn’t physically all that strong at all.

Glancing to the other woman, she waited on an answer. Truthfully, she didn’t think there was going to be a safe way to get him out without the coast guard. She didn’t have a phone on her and she wasn’t sure if the other woman did or not. Which meant one of them was going to have to leave and go get help. The feeling of dread returned.

((Fantastic! Haha))

Vanessa narrowed her eyes as she examined the man. She had been a nurse during World War One and had seen many injuries, but back then it wasn't common for the patient to survive. It was obvious that he suffered head trauma as well as a possible broken back and possible broken ribs. She didn't have an X-Ray on her and could only assume those were his injuries. She was lost in thought for a while, trying to figure out what to do with him. His chances of survival were grim, but she reckoned it wasn't impossible. They would need professional help, not just what she had learned from over fifty years ago. Yet, just as she was about to suggest calling emergency services, his chest stopped rising and she realized he had stopped breathing. She calmly checked his pulse on his wrist to confirm her suspicions before she shook her head. She hated doing this, but it seemed to be the only way of helping him. She began to perform CPR, but after a couple minutes she gave up and shook her head.

"He's gone..."

"Search him and wait." The familiar voice of her guardian startled her and she visibly jumped. She was about to ask out loud why, but realized that Étaín would probably think her crazy. Many people did when she spoke aloud with her guardian. She decided to follow her guardian's order and noticed a bulge in the man's right breast pocket. Without even a pause she reached forward and removed what was in it to find a visa and a wad of cash. She returned the cash to his pocket, not feeling right stealing from a dead man before turning her attention to the visa in her hand. She flipped it open and examined it closely.

"This visa is thicker than most...and the text is a little deep...see?" She held up the visa to Étaín, "It's a very good fake but a fake nonetheless."

She only knew it was a fake because she had had so many herself. The new passports were harder to copy, but this one was done rather well. Someone who wasn't trained, or had them themselves, wouldn't be able to spot the differences.

"Why would he have a fake visa...and why would he be carrying so much cash on him?"

Étaín didn’t have to be told that the visa was a fake. She knew them well herself, though she preferred cash over the plastic. It was getting so easy to track people now; one reason she was always paranoid. Shaking her head, she glanced from man to man and then to Vanessa. There was a rambling of old Gaelic in her head, and the woman realized that the annoying voice in her mind was back. She wanted to groan. But instead she listened and kept herself from nodding at the words.
Something was very off here. Very off.

“I think we should go. At least I am.” She responded as she stood up. She took a few steps away before glancing back. Noticing the light movement of clothes she walked back over and bent down on the balls of her feet, brows furrowed in confusion. “Is he breathing? Or am I crazy?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

The red haired woman was pretty sure it was her imagination that no longer wished to see death that was inventing the fact that he was still alive. “Vanessa, we need to go now.” The warning sensors in her brain were going off.

They had two dead men; well one they both thought was dead. They could have been the only ones here, but somewhere somehow she doubted all of it. Standing back up, she glanced up the cliff where they would have fallen and swore she saw another figure. “He’s dead. Let’s go.” She stated her voice the most firm and commanding it had been since not calming a bride down. They didn’t need to end up dead too.

Daavid was dying. Or he was dead, he didn't know. He could hear voices near him. The end..., he thought... Oh, wait, I'm an immortal

Daavid tried to move, but it caused him infernal pain. He couldn't move his mouth but if he could scream, he was certain he would have woken the dead up. Daavid tried to concenrate but nothing was happeneing. He was loosing control. "LET GO GODDAMNIT!" screamed someone. That voice...

...

Suddenly Daavid was falling... He was falling but his body didn't move... He was dreaming... or maybe he was going to hell? He didn't know. A second later he was sitting on a chair in a room. There was another chair turned away from him. Daavid started walking... wait he could walk? What the fuck is going on... There was a man sitting in the chair. Daavid called out, "Excuse me, where am I?"

"We are in your subconscious. Now let me concentrate," said the man, the same voice as before...
"Am I supposed to believe that?" asked Daavid as he moved towards the man. He looked over the chair and saw a small man pressing buttons on a transluscent screen. "Am I high?" asked Daavid, "Also why did you kill me?"

"Listen I need to get the two women away from you. I'm trying to contact their Guardians, so I'll appreciate if you'll shut the fuck up. Ok the link to Vanessa's and Etain's guardian is ready. Listen Guardian Angels, we cannot have them find out about each other or we're dead. I'll suggest you make them forget about this. I'll be doing the same," he turned to Daavid, "Always getting me into trouble..."

"Guardian Angels? what the fuck is going on! Tell me or I'll kill you!" shouted Daavid.

The other person took a deep breath and spoke, "I cannot have anyone know that you are an immortal, so I'm trying to save your ass. But there is no point... You'll forget all this once you are awake..."

"Wait... NOOO!!" shouted Daavid but there was no point... He was in control of dead body again. He couldn't move or breath. The feeling of asphixiation kept screwing with his brain. I can't .... take it.... anymore, he kept thinking. This was worse than dying. What did he do to recieve such punishment, he wondered. Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I awake? Am I alive?

There was a spilt second when the woman was sure that not only were things wrong they were very wrong. And this was one of them. The warning bells in her head were going off more and more and for a brief moment she thought she heard the sound of a voice, she’d rather never hear again in her life. The two of them were not very close at all.

Moments like these, Étaín really wished she hadn’t stopped trying to kill herself. If it meant the annoying voice that didn’t much seem to like her; it called her a chicken all of the time, then she was happy for it. Brief images flashed across her head. Ones she got sometimes when she was asleep.

Shaking her head to clear it, she nodded to Vanessa. “Glad you see reason.” She replied lightly. Taking one last glance at the dead bodies, her gaze lingered on the one who died in front of them before nodding to herself. It would be better for everyone if they just forget about any of this.

Turning around, the woman started up the way she came down, giving directions to the other female just in case she needed them. Vanessa had already scraped herself on the way down, no need to do it on the way up as well. “I have to agree. Something about all of this is odd.” An idea started to form in her mind. “When we get to the top, let’s find a place to hide.”

It would be interesting to see if there was someone else on the top side watching them. But she couldn’t force herself to leave yet. Out of the ravine below yes, but not completely. Climbing out, she brushed herself off and glanced around. It didn’t seem like there was another person after all. At least not one that she could see. Looking around, Étaín found a place where they could see the way to the cliff and the way down to the gulley below without being seen. She grabbed Vanessa’s hand and dragged her along.

Bending down, she sat on the ground to wait. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t make herself leave. It was too important. Liam and Leo were going to be mad about not being feed, but they could get over it.

Étaín nodded her head. "I know." Well, except maybe dying on contact. I've seen people survivor odder things. She thought to herself as she glanced out from the shrubs to the cliff edge. "If he turned at certain angles I could see how he survived for a little bit... besides," she whispered. "we don't know when he fell." From the sounds they had heard when the two females had come running over it couldn't have been very far from the time of falling. So the fact that the man was still alive made a bit more sense.

But the red head was left wondering. How long should they wait? If they stayed too long they could be said to be involved in the double murder. That was the last thing that she knew she needed right now. She was very close to giving up on finding the so called immortal and leaving town. She had always hated the capital and stuff like this was the reason why. "How long do we wait?" She whispered afraid of being hurt by anything.

Vanessa listened to her and realized that Étaín was correct. It did in fact matter how someone fell that determined how long the person stayed alive for. Though when the other woman asked how long they should stay Vanessa didn't really know what to say. Should they stay another ten minutes or would it be better to stay a couple hours? She waited to see if her guardian would make a noise or point her in the right direction, but everything was eerily quiet in the back of her head. Her Guardian was almost always active. They had become rather close over the eternity that they had been together. The Guardian's silence uneased her, but she realized that she couldn't rely on the Guardian all the time.

"I'd give it another fifteen or so minutes...if nothing happens then it would be best to probably go back." She whispered lowly, her eyes still fixed on the cliff edge ahead.