Blood Ties

[Asila]

Caimen stood among the night-blackened trees surrounding their target, ash swirling around her in the chill winter wind, her hand pressed against the wound on her neck that insisted on gushing blood regardless. The red sun had just made an appearance over the horizon, gilding the dark trees with a rose hue and reducing her vampiric opponent to the feathery silvered debris that swept away from her now, cleaner snowfall taking it's place. Her blood drips into the snow, staining it a brilliant and beautiful red, and while she knows she is lucky to have survived, yet again, she also knows that her luck can only extend so far. If she doesn't get back to the others soon, she won't be going anywhere ever again.

She turns toward the secluded, now burning house behind her. A coven of lesser vampires had made the condemned building home, and had terrorized the town lying seven miles north of here. Until she and the other hunters had arrived and torched them, just after the monsters had returned from hunting that night. Caimen slips the curved Steel Tiger blade that remains in her hand into it's sheath, stoops to pick up the fallen one and return it to it's sheath as well, and walks toward the leaping flames, knowing that the others will have regrouped at the RV only a short distance beyond it. As she travels, he blood seems to cool, yet she does not shiver. She just feels tired. And even when she walks within range of the inferno's warmth, the heat does nothing to remove the chill.

She drags her reluctant feet around the blaze and is met by her sister, long blond hair pulled sternly back from her face and her smokey eyes furious. Caimen, coppery hair ablaze in the fire's glow and blue eyes glinting coolly, scowls at her. "What? If I hadn't gone after her, she would have gotten away."

Iali's eyes narrow further. "So you went by yourself? You know better! Now look at what's happened?" Iali bites her lip, concern drowning the fury in her gaze as she looks at her older sister. "You've gotten hurt." Iali turns back in the direction of the van and yells for one of their comrades. "Tom! We need your assistance, here."

The forty-something Scot, Tom, soon strides into view, and eyes Caimen critically. "You've found yet more trouble for yourself, eh lass? Come, we'll get you back to the RV and see what we can do. Keep pressure on that wound of yours." He picks the wounded hunter up without ceremony and hauls her back to the large vehicle, ignoring her hissed protest of "Not neccesary. I can walk, damn it!" Yet despite the rebellious words, she does not struggle beyond tensing when he lifted her, and that in itself is cause for concern. Tom hauls her into the RV, lays her on the couch, puts a firm hand on her shoulder when she tries to sit up, and sends Iali to get the gauze pads and bandages necessary to patch her up.

Iali hands the requested items to their make-shift doctor (in lieu of a better one) and turns to await the arrival of the rest of the clean-up crew. The few vampires who had managed to escape the blast couldn't have taken the others long to dispatch.

[Rojo]

"Give it up, mortal!"
The air was cold and thin, making the voice run high and clear as ice hanging from the mouth of an onminous cave.
"You cannot win. . .I can taste your fear. . .it's delicious. . ."

Some people work in shops for a living. Some clean drains. Others grow our food, clean our streets or service our cars.
Erik killed monsters for a living.
Not to say that he enjoyed it-- hell, there wasn't a moment that went by that the 17 year old wished he had never taken on (and he stressed that he had never 'taken on' the job willingly) the task entrusted to him: ridding the world of all the ooglies and booglies that sought to claw, steal, sucker or otherwise disgruntle the faces of people everywhere.
At current time, he ws standing in a cold, snowy wood. The trees were thin and a bitter shade of grey, unlike the cheery brown and red trees that had been the normal sight a few weeks ago. The wood was on a hill that someone had stubbornly built a winding, dangerous road atop. He was also holding a loaded crossbow.
Oh, and there was a vampire standing a couple of yards away.

Even after as long as he had been in the 'business' (about six-and-a-half moths) Erik still never got over the horrible fear that seemed to come up and grab him with his trousers down (literally, in two cases) whenever he was faced with something that, in fairness, shouldn't be.
"Your house is on fire, bitey. . .little coven's bye-bye," he said it with the voice of someone who has seen a lot of action films with fast-talking gravelly-voiced sunglass-wearing beefy men and seems to think that this sort of voice is the one to take on when faced with danger.
There was no actual proof that the burning plan had succeeded, as Erik had left in a hurry while the others set about the place with kerosene, claiming he had 'seen one go into the woods.' This wasn't strictly true. In actually, his bladder had been screaming for relief for eighteen hours and he had found himself unable to hold it in much longer. How unfortunate that he had actually come across one of the bloodsuckers on his way back down the hill to where his companions had parked the RV.

The vampire inhaled deeply, his eyes yellow and inhuman, almost catlike. But he was strangely beautiful. . .not handsome, but beautiful. Erik almost wanted to reach out and touch his face. . .
That was the gayest thing I have ever thought about doing he decided, remembering there was some specific classification for vampires who entranced people with their beauty like that but he didn't recall the name. Sparkulis Vampiris Faggia? No no, that was the other kind. The one the normal vampires didn't like to talk about in front of people. Load of old crap, anyway, trying to classify monsters. It was like trying to train alligators to fetch the newspaper.
A growl from his aggressor brought the teen out of his absurd thought track and he saw the glare.
"My brothers. . .sisters. . ." the creature hissed in a voice that could cut through steel. Erik allowed himself a glance over the bloodsucker's shoulder and sure enough, smoke was billowing over the trees. So it had worked. Oh good.
When he returned his gaze to the opponent, Erik found he wasn't there. He spun around wildly, throwing the point of the crossbow bolt around like a madman on a firing range, looking for something that wasn't white or grey.
"Why do they have to be so quiet?!" He bemoaned to the world in general, twisting his body to peer around the thin trees.
"It's so damn dark. . .maybe if they weren't so afraid of the sunlight. . .frickin' pussies. . ." he continued to talk to himself in the way that nervous people do when they know something bad is about to happen. He was about to set off down the hill back towards home when he tripped over a log that was cunningly disguised amongst the snow just as something leapt through the air behind him.

The next few moments were chaos as Erik tumbled head over feet, his hands loosing grip on his weapon as he crashed through the snow, his arms flailing wildly until he came to a painful stop as his head smashed into a tree, knocking several lumps of snow down and onto him. He slowly opened his eyes and quickly shut them again; the vampire was flying through the air towards him, arms outstretched, mouth wide, those tell-tale incisors enlarged almost to a size that would make any dog say 'woah.' There was moment of silence, then a sound like someone sighing as someone turned off a vacuum. Something swirled about the boy's head.
"Snow?" He opened his eyes, his heart beating faster than a kangaroo in a pair of comical boxing gloves can punch a wrestler in the face. Erik found upon opening his eyes that it wasn't snow that was floating through the air, but ash. Or was it dust? Hell if he knew. Then the question occured to Erik of what had killed the vampire. He looked around, expecting to see someone holding a stake or possibly his crossbow (if they had there would've been hell to pay) but found noone. He tilted his head up to see a broken branch a couple of feet above his head, its end jagged and sharp.
He blinked.

The boy always seemed to run into luck like this. Whenever faced with mortal death his enemy would either bump into that vase containing their soul or Erik would accidentally hit the switch closing the gate to the Dark Dimension of Pain and Squirming or (on one ocassion) they would fall into their own gravity due to their accelerated mass and implode.
Erik crawled in the snow, his hands a bright pink (he cursed not having gloves, or rather, any other clothes aside from the ones he was wearing) as he picked up his crossbow and examined it.
It was an old thing, fashioned from a dark wood (Erik knew nothing of woods) that had faded over time and there were nicks and scratches along the main body of the weapon, but it had never failed Erik once. Then again, he had hardly ever hit anything with it, but on the times he had needed it to, it hadn't failed him once.
He hefted his crossbow and began to make his way down the hill and towards the burning house and the RV. His Mountain Dew better still be in there else there'd be a reckoning worthy of Cthalastimiamostotep, The UnNamable One from beyond The Mountains of Maddening Doorbell Noises. Whoever he was.

[Asila]

Her drowsiness is becoming more seductive and is becoming difficult to fight, but Caimen refuses to relinquish her awareness of the situation, knowing that doing so is an invitation to death. Being one of the few hunters who fought employing hand to hand combat, she'd gotten roughed up on multiple occasions. No matter how fiercely she fought, how unusually efficient and quick her reflexes were, the monsters were always as ruthless and usually faster yet. Her particular fighting skills were useful, but only when she was paired with a hunter who employed long range weaponry. She was a great inner line of defense, taking out any enemy that managed to duck through flying arrows and hurtling bullets, but generally got chewed up when she tried to take the offensive.

Yet she was a slave to her impulses, her furies and passions, and so she often acted recklessly, as she had today. She really couldn't blame her sister, with her patience and careful control, for getting frustrated with her. She was absolutely unreasonable and unbalanced in comparison. Yet she could only be what she'd always been, and the instinctual ferocity that defended them both in their youth was not about to fade now, not when the ante had only gone up. A sad smile curls her lips as she glances at her sister, standing sentinel at the RV's door. It abruptly turns into a snarl as Tom tightens the bandages over the thick gauze pad he had put in place over the bite torn into her neck. "Shit, Tom! You're about as gentle as a drunken meathead!"

The two of them begin to bicker, Tom accusing Caimen of being a damned fool for going after that vampire on her own. It was a small wonder she'd been injured! She should be gretful that he tried to help her at all, instead of just lettin' her bleed out until their physician could get there. Caimen telling Tom that she was a fucking heroine, taking it upon herself to vanquish that vampire before it could take another human life (she keeps the little tidbit regarding how she was saved by the sun to herself). And so on. It could be endless with these two. Tom, while being of a cheerful disposition over all, had little patience with youthful attitude and arrogance, and Caimen had an endless supply of said youthful attitude and arrogance to dish out.

Iali sighs. At the age of 23, her sister hadn't changed much since she was 10. She glances over her shoulder at Tom, watching him for a moment. Sometimes, she felt convinced that the rough-around-the-edges Scotsman enjoyed these little tiffs, and the sparkle in his green eyes just now supported her theory. Iali smirks in amusement, and turns back to await the others. Her narrow eyes, naturally appearing fierce due to the way they were set in her skull, scan what little terrain isn't blocked by the burning building or the trees for the others, her back as straight and tense as the rest of her long limbs, save the crooked arm whose hand rested on her hip. A telltale sign of the impatience that wasn't evident in her gaze. She waits.

[Rojo]

The sun rose.

It was a sight that has amazed, bewildered, scared and just plain brightened (no pun intended) people for millenia. It is one of the only things people can rely on, one solid thing in a world that is never truly solid in any of its many facets.
Adrian Shocks was just one man who enjoyed the sun rise. He thought of himself as someone who liked to enjoy the little things in life, who took pleasure in the small things.
However, Adrian Shocks couldn't see the sun rising because he was inside a burning house that appeared to have the belligerent intent of collasping on top of him.

The world came into a sort of fuzzy focus, though a lot of it were shades of orange, red and yellow. Probably because everything was on fire. Smoke billowed up and filled most of the room, but down on the floor where Adrian was it was for the most part alright.
Why was he on the floor?
He tried moving his legs and found out why he was on the floor. There was a deathlike grip on his leg, the arm for which it was responsible was attached to something that may have once been human, may have once even been a vampire. Now it was a burning, bubbling mass which screamed wordlessly, its skin melting, its other hand and most of its body trapped under a fallen beam from the ceiling. Sharp nails dug into Shocks' leg and he wondered mildly that the writhing mass may have once been a woman.
The world still has a sort of fuzzy look to it so the man on the floor looked around where he had fallen, his hands finding a pair of wire-frame glasses, which he picked up and placed on his nose.
Everything instantly became sharper, more defined. The wobbling blobs of red and orange became roaring fires, the burning creature trapped behind him became the screaming, still-moving cadaver of what was once a woman.
Fire he thought, his brain making a full reboot after his short time spent in unconciousness. The screaming behind him guttered out into a final wail, then all was silent but for the crackling of the flames.
Fire he thought again, and there was something significant about this. Then he sat up.
Oh shit,fire! he thought and wrenched his foot from the grip of the vampire, standing up and looking wildly about. Instantly smoke assaulted his airways as he tried to breathe and he quickly hit the ground again, coughing like an old asthmatic who has said 'what the hell' when offered a cigar. The heat from the fire was searing, making him sweat, giving his skin a glassy sheen. The man looked towards the front door to find it blocked by a large, burning beam of wood that had fallen across it. He looked desperately towards the open kitchen door, making a headway for it.

---

Erik whistled the advertising jingle he had heard on the latest ad for toothpaste as he strolled leisurely past the burning cabin. He gave it a passing look, pausing for a moment to consider it.
Crossbow hefted over one shoulder (Erik thought he looked unbelievably cool when he did this, when in reality he only endangered himself and those around him) as he looked at the wall of the cabin, watching as the flames licked higher. There is something about basic, idiotic people like Erik and fire that attract each other.
The flames held his attention for a moment as he peered in through one of the windows, seeing one of the vampires get pulled down by another and fall unconcious. He gave a short chuckle, then carried on his way, resuming the advertising jingle.
"Superfresh is your best friend,
Superfresh is the newest trend,
Superfresh is. . ."
he trailed off, pausing. He loked back at the burning house, eyes narrowing as he went over the image of the vampires in the living room. You could almost see the little gerbil in its wheel running furiously. That vampire had looked an awful lot like the Doc, hadn't it. . .Doc Hairy, Erik liked to call him.
He stared at the burning cabin for a moment.
"Nah," he said and turned around, going back towards the RV.

---

Doctor Shocks pulled himself toward the kitchen, each time he outstretched his arm another painful eternity. He could hear the house falling in behind him. There was a particularily loud bang that turned his head just in time to see the set of stairs leading to the second floor collapse, sending up a shower of firefly-like sparks, their lives extinguished before they reached the ceiling. In the kitchen, the fire hadn't spread as much as it had in the main room. Adrian pulled himself to his feet, crouching down with one arm over his face as he made his way past the sink towards the back door. He rattled the doorknob but it provided no give. Damn thing was locked!
He gave a cry of frustration, throwing himself against the door several times without give. He was a weak, thin man and as such his body weight didn't do much against the old, sturdy lock. In desperation, he made his way over to the window, looking out. That boy was there! The red-haired boy with all the medieval weapons!
Shocks banged his fist furiously against the window, trying to get the attention of his fellow Hunter to no avail. The boy just kept on walking further and further away towards the treeline and safety which seemed so close it wasn't even funny in an ironic sort of way.
He considered the window, but it would never fit him-- it was much too small. Probably why the vampires who inhabited this place liked it so much. Adrian turned around and around on the spot, looking for something to open the door. Despite his protective arm the smoke was getting through, making his eyes water terribly and his breathing difficult.
It was at this point that he remembered the gun in his bag. He brought his hand around to open his satchel to find it wasn't there! Relief that had flooded him a moment ago now drained from him like he had opened floodgates to Despair Resevoir. He turned around and through the haze he saw it open on the floor of the living room where he had fallen.
Hurrying back into the living room, where the smoke forced him to throw himself to the floor, Adrian went about picking up his bag.
The flap had come undone and had spilled vials, hypodermics (With safe nibs on), bandages and most importantly his Medical Journal, which contained everything he had collected on his 'special branch' of research. Seeing it jeapordised made his heart skip a beat.
Gathering up all the items in the satchel, Adrian hurries back into the kitchen, holding his breath so as to have use of both hands. He fumbled through the satchel until his hands closed on cold metal. He pulled the gun out and turned it around in his hands. Despite the heat it felt cold.
Doctor Shocks didn't really hold with guns, he was strictly anti-firearms, but in this case thank whatever dark things passed as gods that he had one today.
It was a large gun, a revolver of some sort. According to the oft-envious Erik and his gun magazines, it could 'blow a hole in a man big enough to fit a flatscreen tv' which didn't make sense since most men weren't big enough to fit a flatscreen on them without a hole. Regardless, if it was as good as the boy said it was, it would get him out of this in a jam, despite what Mythbusters and years ofo Phsyics had taught him.
Levelling the gun (it felt so powerful to have it in his hands) so it faced the doorhandle, the Doctor vaguely remembered something about holding your breath. He pushed the hammer. Click.
He expelled his held-in breath just as he pulled the trigger.
There was a sound like. . .well, there's no appropriate metaphor or simile. It was a gunshot, loud and clear even above the collapsing burning house. The door handle was there one moment, gone the next. The door was thrown open by the power of the bullet, hitting the wall next to it. Adrian was somewhat taken aback by the recoil, the gun throwing itself back into his chest, winding him a little.
He rushed out into the cold air and away from the melted snow from the heat, throwing himself into a snow drift, the snow throwing up steam in an almost comedic way as he hit it, the heat of his body and clothes a polar opposite to the cool and gratifying snow.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the feeling of the snow on his skin, feeling the blood pulse through his temple, worrying absently if he had burned anything and the enjoying the sweet knowledge that he was alive.
Slowly, he pulled himself up to a sitting posistion. He looked at the revolver in his hand. From a philosophical (And he had taken a Philosophy course at Oxford) point of view, it was a terrible thing. But from a practical point of view, it was a fucking good thing to have.
He put the gun his satchel and pulled himself to his feet, making his way after Erik.

---

Arguing was the first sound that greeted Erik's ears as he came to the roadside where the RV was parked.
She was a beautiful sight.
6 and a half meters ("What is that, metric? Fuck I'm hilarious") of metal, glass and rubber, all kitted out to kick monster ass. There was a rather crude mural of a fanged skull with two stakes crossed underneath it on the side of the vehicle with the words 'WE FUCK UP VAMPIRES' written in large, white paint beneath. Erik was proud of his handiwork.
He sighed as he took the steps into the RV, walking past the arguing pair, throwing a sideways glance at Iali's breasts as he makes his way to the back of the RV where a tall fridge stands. 'OL RELIABLE' read the tell-tale white paint. One day Erik had decided to name things. Do not ask. Opening the fridge his eyes began to scan. He was still vaguely aware of Tom and Caimen arguing in the background. It amused him to hear the Scotsman swear. His gaze stopped on the green packaging he had been seeking with the telltale white writing 'Mountain Dew.'
"Are you ready to unleash the fucking Dew?" he said to no one in particular as he pulled out the six pack, picking a prime seat for the argument as he plonked down, oblivious of the others. He pulled a can free and opened it was a satisfying hiss.

[Asila]

Iali stepped out of the way as Erik came aboard their massive vehicle of dissent, arching an eyebrow as he stares with absolutely no subtlety whatsoever at her chest. Being more practical than modest, she is not offended. In fact, she is impressed that the teenager can see anything of interest beneath the long charcoal-colored coat that she is wearing, however well it may fit her. She smirks with amusement and strolls over to Erik once he takes a seat. She sits next to him and snatches a Mountain Dew. Holding it with her thumb and two fingers closed over the top of the can, she waves it in front of him.

"If you keep stealing glances like that one, it's going to cost ya." She says with a laugh and a smile. Her eyes, however, are forever fierce and challenge him to fight her claim.

In the meantime, Tom growls a final "If you do nah want my help, then stay oot of the line a fire." He all but leaps to his feet and stalks sharply to the door of the RV, grumbling. "Where is tha mangy wolf? Tha lass should be 'is problem, nah mine." The door swings shut behind him with a punctuated slap as he storms into the snow, looking for said mangy wolf. Once he spots the good doctor coming toward him in the morning twilight, he jerks his head in the direction of the RV. A few tendrils of silver-streaked black hair falls in his eyes and he pushes it back impatiently as he speaks. "Do me a favor and make sure the red-haird one doesn't meet her maker befoh I can strangle her."

That said, he steps back to the RV, tears a pack of cigarettes from his camouflaged sports jacket and lights one. In seconds, he is breathing plumes of pale smoke into the crisp air of the new day.

Caimen, for her part, has valiantly refrained from yelling something scathing after Tom as he walked away. She puts her arms behind her head, the black ski jacket rustling as she does so, and proceeds to stare at the ceiling in contemplative silence as she awaits the next development. She's feeling a little too out of it to start something herself at present.

[Rojo]

The teenage boy glowered at Iali as she pilfered one of his drinks, but his scowled expression became one of suprise as she mentioned his. . .for lack of a better word, "glances." He closed his eyes slightly, expecting a slap or some other woman-inflicted harm to his person as was per usual when the ladies discovered him with his eyes wandering where they shouldn't.
When the sharp stinging on his cheek (or, thankfully, an omniously rising ache in his nethers) didn't come, he opened an eye and peered at the girl next to him. Erik relaxed a little and contemplated saying something along the lines of 'you know you love it' in his most smoothest, Barry White-est voice, but he saw the determination lurking behind her eyes and he decided not to rise to it.
"Hey hey hey. . .the DEW ain't for YOU," he said, emphasising on the rhyme as if he thought it was incredibly clever. Then he rememebered what happened when you incur the wrath of a woman and added, "but I guess I could make an exception. . ."
He watched Tom through the open door smoking his cigarettes. He'd tried cigarettes once in an effort to look cool. This had caused a coughing fit so glad he nearly lost conciousness. Erik hadn't touched the things since.

Shocks had opened his mouth to pass greeting to Tom but had been interuppted by the thick stream of Scottish-accented words. He paused, nodded once, then made his way into the group's crudely decorated RV (no amount of paint stripper would remove the childish painting Erik had made on the side) and took one look at Caimen before thrusting a hand into his bag, the vials chinking against eachother as he searched for something.
"Doc Fuzzball!" Erik said with a stupid grin on his face, raising the can in a greeting to the phsyician as he entered. He lowered the can and took a long, loud drink.
"Yes, hello. . ." replied Shocks absently, finding the items he was looking for: a patch of gauze and a small bottle of antiseptic spray. The group's physician approached cautiously, holding up the items like a peace offering. The wound didn't look too bad. . .but there was the obvious question.
"You didn't. . .the one you went after. . .he didn't make you drink any of his blood, did he?"
It was a stupid question, but a vital one. If Caimen had ingested just a little of that vampire's blood (sometimes they forced their victims) and it had taken any of hers (it looked like it had, but assumptions in the Medical field cost lives).

Erik shifted uncomfortably, stuffing himself deeper into the seat.

[Asila]

Iali smiles sweetly at him. "Why thank you, Erik. You are truly a gentleman." She teases, then elbows him playfully. "I'll buy you a replacement, or six more of them, when we get into the next town." She gives Dr. Shocks a nod and a smile as he enters their RV, then pops the tab on the can, sending up a small plume of sweet smelling mist. She takes a drink, listening carefully to Dr. Shock's question and noticing Erik's discomfort. Smart boy, she thinks dryly. Caimen did tend to over-react whenever the possibility that she could be among the ranks of the monsters was so much as hinted at when she was anywhere near.

The wounded hunter lazily watched Shocks as he approached, but her demeanor changed swiftly when he asked her that critical question. She sat up so quickly that her head began to spin sluggishly, but she hardly noticed through her surprise. "What?!" Though initially loud, her voice faded into a breathy hiss at the end of the word. She took a deep breath, and began again. "No, she didn't...I wouldn't..." She was so horrified by the thought that she couldn't speak the full sentences she'd intended in anything more than fragments. Frustrated, she slammed her hands down on the couch and stood. She stared incredulously at the doctor, bristling as much as a human can. "Ugh, no. Never. That's disgusting."

Tom's laughter terminated Caimen's rant. She narrowed her eyes and glared venomously through the open door. "Calm yourself, lass. 'Tis only a question." He turns his head to glance at the girl over his shoulder, the multitude of expressive lines in his weathered face leaning toward disdain. "No need ta get huhsterical."

Now Caimen is seething with irritation, but in order to prove that arrogant assumption wrong, she sits back down and suppresses her anger in order to maintain some semblance of calm. "Nothing happened. The vampire just rushed me and got a quick nip in right before the sun rose."

[Rojo]

The tension in the room dropped a few levels on the tension meter. The sound of the tiny gerbil that worked Erik's brain saying 'whew' was almost audible through his thick skull. He sunk down in his seat so his torso was where his derrier should be, his head propped up at an angle, hand resting (with can at the ready) on his chest, the other hanging lazily over the side of the couch, allowing his crossbow to drop carelessly to the carpet.
"Well isn't that a big fuckin' relief. . ." he said, swearing unecessarily as teenagers do. He shifted the can closer to his mouth, tipping it towards his lips and jutting out his chin so as to catch more of the carbonated drink in his mouth. He managed not to spill any and placed the can back on his chest, eyes moving up to Iali. "I'll hold you to that six-pack. . ." he warned her with the voice of a mafia don who is asking a favour of someone.

Erik wasn't the only relieved one. Doctor Shocks rushed forward when Caimen had finished ranting at him.
"Sorry, it's just I had to check," he said, examining the wound in more detail. It was slightly more than a 'nip' by the look of it. "You're incredibly lucky," he told her, eyes flickering between her face and her neck for a moment "it looks like the nasty thing missed your Carotid by about an inch." He leaned in, holding up the spray.
The physician's eyes slid to Caimen's. His were a deep amber colour with a coppery tint. His face was strong and defined at the edges, he had a pointed chin and a long, straight and thin nose, his mouth thin but wide.
"This will sting," he warned her, turning his attention back to the task at hand. He squeezed the trigger on the bottle of spray, sending the antiseptic over the wound. He sprayed it three times, making sure to get it around the afflicted area. It would sting like a bitch, but it was necessary to prevent infection.
After he allowed Caimen to get whatever grievances she had in reaction to the spray, if any, he took the gauze carefully in both hands and placed it over the jagged tear of flesh in her neck, pressing firmly on the tape around the edges so it stayed on. Adrian stood back to admire his handiwork.
"If anything else happens, just talk to me about it and I'll see what I can do." He sneezed and a small amount of ash came plummeting out of his hair. "Oh dear, I think I have a cold coming on. . ." he turned and took the steps outside, standing next to Tom with his hands in the pockets of his large dark green overcoat.

The doctor didn't say anything for a while, simply looking off into the rising sun over the snowy mountains. It truly was beautiful. The smoke from the cabin was still rising merrily but fortunately nobody else appeared to live this far away from civilization and there would be no calls to the fire department.
"Where are we headed next?" he asked the Scotsman, looking over as his breath rose in a mist before him.

He shivered.

[Asila]

Caimen holds her breath as Adrian sprays the wound with something that feels like acid and grips the sofa seat hands whose knuckles immediately turn white. "If this is luck-" She says stiffly, "I'd hate to be unlucky." She sighs with relief when he covers the wound, signaling the end of this helpful torture session. "But thanks for the help." She watches him leave, noticing how roughed up he looked and wondering how he managed to wind up so covered in ash. She frowns thoughtfully, then sighs and mutters to herself. "I'll definitely let you know if a bat starts sprouting out of my neck." She rises slowly to her feet, walks over to the cheap CD player with her The Distillers album in it, presses play and walks back to the couch with music clamoring in soothing chaos behind her. She sighs appreciatively and lays flat on her back on the couch, staring straight up as she listens. The RV ceiling must be fascinating.

Iali slants Erik a look. "A relief? I'm not so sure about that. I mean, if Caimen was a vampire, at least we'd get some peace during the day." She turns to glance at her sister in order to catch her expression, but is immediately struck by a paperback book that bounces off the side of her head. "Caimen!" Her sister's name comes out as a surprised yelp, and she rubs her head while beaming a withering stare at her sister.

Caimen smiles sweetly. "Yes, little sister?" Iali clenches her jaw in frustration, but decides to ignore her sibling for now and get revenge at a better time. So she turns back to the slumped Erik and asks him a question. "So how'd your trip into the woods go? It must have been eventful. You were covered in snow when you came back."

Outside, Tom takes another long drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaled. He listened to the lively conversation between the two youngest hunters, and the muted blare of rebellious music that suddenly surged below their spoken words as Caimen turned on her CD player, one of the young herself. Listening, he felt the creeping edge of doubt sow ice in his weathered heart. He brought the cigarette back to his chapped lips and and inhaled the hot, harsh smoke into his lungs, trying to dispel the feeling.

As the werewolf steps beside him and voices his question, he dispels the last of the smoke in a slow, wispy stream and maintains a pensive silence for a few minutes. While the morning may not be serene, it did blaze with the life of the young, and the vitality of the torch he had lit. He gazes at the flames of the burning house, wondering how far he could carry this torch and continue his legacy. Their next destination was a worrying one. Unknown monsters were not as easily defeated as the identified were.

He takes a deep breath and finally answers Shocks' question. "Thar's a small town a hundreh'd miles beyond those mountains that 'as behn plagued by a terrible rash of deaths. Pehple are dyin' in their homes at night. The bodays 'ave not been recovered. Only the blood splatters on the walls rehmain tah tell the story." He pauses, briefly considering the horizon, before continuing in a soft voice. "Ehnayone who tries tah leave is consumed by a strange black fluid with the consistency of tar and the potency of acid. The phones 'ave gone dead. Only a lone passenger pigeon made it through and deliverd news of this nightmur to one of my sources."

"There is a long-neglected and unoccupied Gothic revival home on the crags overlookin' the town that seems tah contain the cause. The townspeople won' go near it, but it was written that, on the nights of the deaths, there came a deep growlin' from the house that causes the crags themselves to tremble." Tom turns his head and graces his companion with a strange smile. "Sounds like an impossible situation for the likes of us to resolve, doesn' it?" He chuckles wryly. "But you see, I doona believe in indestructible foes, however supernatural their strength may seem. Anythin' that can kill a human can be killed in turn." He turns his gaze back to the horizon. His voice has the razor edge of a blade when he voices one last statement. "Someone has tah take care of the problem before it worsens. Problems of this sort tend tah spread."

[Rojo]

Erik's eyes flitted elsewhere at the mention of his trip into the woods, then he sat up, an unphazed expression on his face.
"What happened, you ask?" he raised an eyebrow, one arm stretched over the back of the sofa "well, I only kicked the living- well, UNliving- shit out of that bloodsucking -more like COCKsucking, amirite?- asshole," he paused, wondering whether he had added enough profanity, then ploughed on, his voice taking on a low and ominous tone "so there I was, standin' in the woods, lookin' for this pale motherfucker. . ." Erik's accent was indeterminate, nobody as of yet had really put their finger on it "and suddenly, he jumps all out of the trees, hissing like a snake or some shit and he takes me down, but only because he had the element of suprise, plus I'm not feeling too good today anyway," the boy paused in his elaborate story to take a drought of Mountain Dew "anyhow, I'm on the floor and he's on top of me (no homo) but he's tryin' to go for my neck and everything, fuckin' faggot but I'm holding him off, my crossbow across his neck, holdin' him back. I throw him off, like some Judo shit-- yeah I did Judo when he was, like, a little kid. Nice music by the way," he threw the comment in Caimen's direction, appreciating the loud music and aggresive lyrics.

Shocks passed a glance over at Tom. He was a mysterious man-- he always had a destination for the group if no one else provided one and he seemed not only to be proficient at what they did, he seemed good at it. It brought many questions to his mind, but being the non-people person he was (not a good quality in a doctor, admittedly) and for fear of the answers, he did not ask.
He looked back when music began to erupt from the sound system of the RV, sighing a little.
"Kids and their music these days. . ." he said in the typical voice of an old man, despite the fact he was not yet thirty. Shocks listened as Tom explained the situation of their next. . .'mission' if you could call it that, though that word seemed too professional, too organize to describe what they did. It was more of a hodge-podge of town-hopping around the country (the question of travelling to other countries had not yet arisen, but Adrian was sure it would soon) helping folks out where they needed it and then moving on. They all did it for a variety of reasons but the point was they did do it.
"Because no one else will. . ." the physician finished off his own thought-track aloud, watching as a flock of birds rose over the crest of a mountain off to the left, swooping overhead in arrow formation. He looked over at Tom. "Why is it always old, creepy houses I wonder," he asked no one in particular "why can't poltergeists ever haunt, for example, a children's bouncy castle?" He sighed and shook his head.

"An unbeatable foe. . .well, when has that stopped us before. We can beat it, whatever it is-- we've always got Erik's book." He was referring to the old musty tome that Erik kept in his equally old and musty chest. Within this old leather book -about six inches thick and the length of one's wrist to elbow- were diagrams, hints, recipes, journal entries and profiles on most things that went bump in the night. The book had been crucial in their endeavours so far, helping out with an exorcism in Kentucky and the identification of several other things. Erik refused to explain where he got it and denied flatly any allegations that he himself had written it. The changes in handwriting, spelling and the names of people in the journal entries were evidence enough of that. Also, there was the strange problem of only Erik being able to navigate the damn thing. If someone were to look through the book, aimless or not, they would find nothing but blank pages, however, when the boy himself would inspect it, it became an invaluable fount of knowledge and the book itself seemed to have dimensions beyond it's own boundaries.
It was a mysterious object, but a useful one.
"But somehow I think it won't be much help in this case. . ." Shocks continued "if this thing is as dark and terrible as you say, I don't think the book will be much help. If the thing kills anyone that tries to leave. . .how will we get in?"

Meanwhile, inside the RV, Erik continued his story with great gusto, cracking open another can of Mountain Dew as the first one, now empty, sailed past Doctor Shocks' head.
"So I'm straddling the poor bastard (no homo), punching the crap outta him and he's bleeding and shit and screaming," he put on a high falsetto "'please don't hurt me, dude, I'm just a weak little pussy who jumps at guys when they're on the ground' and I'm all like," he switched to the gruff, gung-ho voice he put on when trying to sound cool which sounded nothing like himself "'you shouldn't-a done the bad things you did, you little douche' and then I picked him up by his fuckin' shirt," he held up an imaginary vampire "and I held him in front of me and now the pussy's cryin' and shit and I'm all like," he squinted at his invisible enemy, raising the corner of his mouth like Clint Eastwood might have done if he was an idiot "'hey pal. . .dust yourself off.' And then I threw him onta this broken branch and he turns to dust or ash or whatever the fuck it is. . ." he concluded the spun out self-worship and leaned back, putting one arm behind his head and using the other to sate his thirst.

"And that's how come I was so long comin' back."

[Asila]

When Erik compliments her music, Caimen launches a fist in the air and nods her approval. "All our friends are murderers." That first sentence is in reference to the lyrics of the first track, "Drain the Blood". Her next line she adds just for the hell of it. "And they're the fucking best at what they do!"

Iali ignores this bit from her sister and focuses instead on Erik's story. She grin's at his phrasing. "Sounds like you really beat the shit out of that vampire." She leans into the back of her seat and considers him. "You know, you have seem to have the same gift for drawing trouble that Caimen has. I don't think a troop of soldiers and a bomb-proof vault could have kept that vampire from pouncing on you." She shakes her head and smiles ruefully. "Death itself must fear us since we're all still here."

"It's aither a creepy old home built by one of the eccentric rich or a cabin in the middle of nowhere. People without anything constructive tah do seem tah welcome in all sorts of unpleasant bein's before they die." Tom muses over this for a short while, thinking that if the existentially bored didn't search out strange creatures, they wound up slaughtering them. He is smirking when he continues. "However, I doona think that town's curse is as difficult or terrible as it seemed tah the hostage who sent that message. The hunted tend tah over exaggerate the strength of their foes. But in answer tah your question, I suspect that the beings in question are more concerned about keeping the people in the town than keeping other people out. We'll try tah drive in, and plot one helluva good back-up plan in case that fails."

Tom flicks the butt of his now-finished cigarette into the snow, and turns to head back into the RV. "For now, I just want tah take a short break from all of this madness. We'll start drawin' up the battle plans tomorrow. That town will just have tah survive one more night without us." He knew that sounded ruthless, but the fact of the matter was that even monster hunters, especially monster hunters he amends to himself, need some time to wind down before they're faced with the next life-threatening situation. It was essential to maintaining their sanity and efficiency in times of danger. So he steps back into the RV without a shadow of regret in his wintry gaze.

Inside, he frowns at both Eric and Caimen. "From now on, no one separates from the group when we're on a mission." Oh, he had heard enough of Eric's story while he was outside to feel frustrated on a level he could hardly stand. "After all, Death fears no one" he shoots a glance at Iali "and I would like tah keep all of you out of it's icy clutches for as long as one man can." He falls silent then and just stares at the three of them, as resolute and unmoving as a statue.

Iali mutters "I was only making a joke", but for once Caimen has sense enough to keep her rebellious comments to herself. She simply stares back at him in silence. But Tom is waiting for a certain response, and silence is not it.

[Rojo]

Erik leans back again, crossing his legs at around the ankle, probably something along the lines of Daddy cool going through his head at the two ladies' approval.
"That's right. . .I'm a born Slayer, y'know?" He finishes another can, sending it hurtling through the still-open door where it lands not short of its comrade, crumpled by the side of the road.

Doctor Shocks however, continued to listen to Tom. The man's words were. . .almost alarming in their straightforwardness and definitive tone. It was almost like the gruff older man had planned out the entire thing already in his head, going over it mentally as he layed out the scene for the Doctor. It often puzzled Adrian what made Tom this way. He had drawn several conclusions, including: a)he had fought in a war of some sort, not Vietnam. . .he wasn't THAT old. b) The man had once worked for a government agency-- perhaps even one with the purpose of finding and neutralizing supernatural threats. Alright, this one was a little boy-fantasy-ish but then again, when you grow fur and gain two feet in height once a month or so the lines between life and fantasy seem to blur. c) Tom had lost something important to the vast category of creatures, abominations and otherworldy things that we call 'supernatural' and as such he sought to get back at the darkness as a whole.
There were several other theories that involved time-travel, alien abduction and in one case Godzilla. However, these theories were less likely than the main three and were usually invented on the long nights spent sat in the cab, with nought to do but drive or try to make awkward conversation with Tom.
Adrian still had questions about their trip (he still had questions about everything-- such is an inquisitive mind) but their Fearless Leader (though the word 'Leader' had never been used he assumed the role quite often, the others incapability or ineptitude at leading equally playing a part) declared a rest period. Doctor Shocks relaxed visibly, slumping his shoulders as he followed Tom into the RV.

The teenage boy inside gave a relaxed expression at Tom's sudden seriousness.
"Pfft," he scoffed, rolling his eyes "if Death comes anywhere near me, I'm gonna rip his nipples off." He licked his teeth, the aftertaste of his delicious Dew beginning to turn stale and make his mouth feel fuzzy and gooey. His statement wasn't meant in defiance towards Tom, more of Erik doing what he does worst-- trying to look cool in front of girls.

The good doctor decides to avoid the incoming explosion and scoots a little further up the interior of the vehicle, stopping at a calender on the wall. He turned slowly to look at it.
Each month of the calendar had a different brightly-coloured sports car on it (except September which had a black Bugatti Veyron speeding down some quaint country road) with the Month in question written underneath in cool, silver writing which seemed to be leaning to the right as if it, too, were speeding. On the calendar were several events written down: Erik's birthday (Surrounded by skulls and oddly, stars, which seemed a bit garish for Erik) and Pancake Tuesday along with the usual commercial holidays which had kindly been filled in by the company that made the calendar. But it was not these marked dates the physician was looking for. Every so often on each month there was a single day circled in red pen.
October 12 was the next one. Today was Ocotober the 3rd. Just over a week.
He let the pages drop, a haunted look on his eyes as he looked down, his face taking on the expression of someone with post-traumatic stress disorder having an unpleasant flashback. He stepped away from the calendar and leaned against the wall opposite, staring at a patch of panelling just underneath the calendar.

[Asila]

There was something about situations like this one that triggered an absolutely obnoxious response from Caimen. It wasn't because she didn't possess a certain gravity and seriousness of her own, for she did. Hers was a ferocity that overrode her large expressive eyes by leaving them narrowed and distrustfully angry; it made what would have otherwise been considered a soft form with generous curves coil with the primal hunting prowess of a lynx. Hers was not a form that was ever designed to appear intimidating, but the deep-seated rage that placed fire in her words and murderous intent in her movements also made a predator out of a bird of paradise.

But in moments like this one, with Tom's seriousness broadcasting an uncomfortable tension throughout the RV, Erik's lewd joke with it's healthy dose of shock value simply could not be endured with a straight face. The contrast was just too much. It was as impossible for her not to laugh in this scenario as it was when, in a moment of silence when she and three of her friends had stood in a forest and intently listened for a strange sound in another life, one of their number had made a farting noise that shattered the somber silence and had all of them collapsing in fits of hilarity that wouldn't have had half that degree of power in a less serious setting.

And so when Tom bestowed his severely stern gaze upon Eric for his outburst, and began to rumble an agitated reprimand- "Doona be so arrogant, lad-" Caimen interrupted him with a gasping fit of laughter that soon brought her to her knees. Her arm wrapped around her aching ribs and tears glittering in her eyes, she looks up after a good thirty seconds.

The powerfully built, enraged Scotsman that is Tom as he towers over her speaks slowly, a storm building in his words. He continues as though he had never been interrupted. "For arrogance leads tah a false sense of security, which is closely followed by error." He kneels down, then, so that his face is level with the girl he intended to make an example of. His eyes, as cold and distant as a gray winter's sky, bore mercilessly into hers. His voice carries his doubt and disgust into the hearts of his intended audience as the words knife through them. "Those of us who intend to survive know that error is the gateway tah a painful realization of our mortality." The statement carries a strange weight, as though it has been passed down in the wake stirred by generations of harsh lessons.

Then he stands and turns slowly to gaze upon Eric and Iali. Iali holds her breath as her sister slowly releases hers, but Tom has made his point and the biting frost of his displeasure has faded. He speaks now with a warm smile. "Let us stray away from cruel truths and agree that we will not separate unless I tell you it's safe. I will keep all of you alive, fight me or no. So tell me, Erik, Iali." He pauses, glances toward the sister who is now sitting back on her heels, looking perplexed. "Caimen. Do I have your cooperation?"

[Rojo]

It was the air of someone who has succeeded far more then they could ever concieve that Erik took on when Caimen seemed to explode with laughter. The big dopey grin plastered itself on his face and he looked on with some sort of satisfaction and pride that he had been the cause of said outburst.
The proud grin was dulled somewhat by the next part of Tom's lecture, leanng down and speaking to Caimen directly, his gaze seeming to stretch on for eons, through oceans and across deserts. They were eyes that if you looked hard enough you could see the monsters behind, waiting to tear you to shreds.

Or maybe that was the light and the Mountain Dew.

The boy looked the Scotsman in the eye, his own strangely serious as he made the statement,
"Dude, it's a painful realization of my mortality when I throw up after eating three bags of gummy bears. It's just the way it goes, y'know?" He paused to actuallly think about what he'd said, a ritual that other people seemed to engage in several times a day, whereas for Erik it was a rare, nay freak occurance. He thought perhaps this was the time to maybe say something a little bit more compromising in the face of a large, thick-set Scotsman who several seconds ago had looked liked he could have punched through a brick wall and not even said 'ow.'
It was an amazing process, watching Erik think. You could see the cogs slowly turning, the shouts of slave workers slowly turning some great mechanism, sending a series of clangs and thumps before the sound not unlike a marble rolling down a track, dropping through holes, going around corkscrews and finally coming to a rest in it's final destination. There is a 'ping!' like a microwave. The thought has arrived.
"Maybe. . ." he said slowly, the words forming on his lips born of geniune deduction and analyzing the enviroment around him, something he was not famous for "maybe if we stick together. . .then I'll be able to protect you guys if something goes wrong!" He beamed, looking around at the others and feeling incredibly proud of himself.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

[Asila]

Tom's expression, which he had forced into lines of good humor so that he did not overwhelm the youth, frosted over as he looked at Erik. He briefly considered the possibility that Erik said these things to try his patience, as such was often Caimen's motivation, but he quickly discards that suspicion. The lad was just a teenage boy trying to impress a pair of reasonably attractive young lasses. There was nothing Machiavellian about his attempts to stand out and appear rebellious.

When Erik proves wise enough to try another answer spoken with better tact, Tom nods approval. It wasn't exactly the interpretation he was going for, but it would serve his purpose well enough. "You've got it, lad." He says with good humor.

He then looks pointedly at Caimen, who was just giving Erik an emphatic thumb's up when the lad had looked her way. Tom stares for a solid ten seconds, most of which she spends pretending she doesn't know what he's getting at, before she caves. "All right, fine!" She exclaims, leaning back on her hands to look up at their oh so valiant leader. "I'll stick with one of the pack. Unless doing so jeopardizes my life or that of my sister." Tom looks hard at her. "In circumstances unforseen." He looks unimpressed with her amendment. Caimen's eyes narrow into slits. "You can glare at me all you want, you stubborn Scot, you aren't getting a concrete commitment from me! I have my own purpose to accomplish, and you're not going to stand in my way."

Tom radiates anger. Caimen is resolute in her stubbornness. They could have stared at each other for quite some time in a silent battle of wills if Iali didn't interrupt. "Just let it go, Tom. Please. Where she isn't loyal to you, she's loyal to me. Between the two of us, I think we'll be all right."

"She'd better be." Tom growls, turning away from his opponent. "The last thing I need is a reckless wee lass who serves best as a distraction." The words sound angry, but the tone is teasing. Iali had succeeded in guiding him through his frustration with her sister. For the umpteenth time.

Caimen's eyes widen. "Did he just call me short in Scot-speak? I think he just called me short!" She stands and stalks toward him. "Just for that, I'm going to dominate you in Euchre." She proclaims dynamically, and pulls a deck of cards from a kitchen drawer, throwing them on the small table near Erik and Iali.

Tom guffaws. "That's a fine idea!" He takes a seat at the table. "Stop looking so worried and get over here, furball." This, of course, he says to Adrian as Caimen says "Who else is in?"

((If you don't know how to play Eucher, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to write out the game. I'm just leading into an advancement of an undecided number of hours into our characters future))