(no subject)
By the time he returned home, he had at least regained control enough to re-assume his glamors. His neighbors wouldn’t appreciate knowing the quiet businessman that lived next door was a cherub, after all. Not that they would mind, mostly, it’s just always a shock to learn your neighbor isn’t quite what he appears to be.
Darwin couldn’t help it, and started chuckling as he fished his keys from his pocket. This whole day so far would just be more fodder for his shrink, and he was sure his next visit to her would finally be the one that broke her, forcing her to prescribe him medication and recommend a looney bin. He managed, through some miracle, to contain his chuckling until he was inside the safety of his apartment, the door locked and bolted behind him, before he broke down into mad, hysterical laughter.
His shrink would have a field day with this one. And hell, at this point, he could hardly blame her for thinking he was completely and utterly nuts. Yeah, sure, most doctors would probably tell him he was experience some kind of crazy post traumatic stress, and maybe that was really all it was.
Of course that was all it was. Darwin finished his manical laughing spree, standing (when had he sat, anyway? Maybe the laughter was just too much for his poor legs) and heading to the bathroom to wash his face off. Not that it was dirty, it just felt like the thing to do. People said that always helped to clear the mind, right?
A few more deep breaths, and Darwin was more or less coherent again. Of course it was all just the stress of seeing his office an exploded mess. Nothing more, nothing less. Years of training had taught Darwin to ignore that little voice in the back of his head telling him he was full of horse shit, that it wasn’t the office that had caused him to lose it, because going batshit insane over the mention of some crazed blue-skinned woman made less sense than a Mexican midget on a three-legged cat.
The phone rang, then, just as Darwin had decided he wasn’t crazy and he was perfectly within his rights to have a breakdown over the day’s start. And so of course he let out a shriek that would have made his little sister proud, diving for cover behind the couch before realizing it was just a phone. He peeked over the back of the couch at the offending appliance.
It continued its cheery ringing, lighting up a rather lovely shave of blue as it did so, and Darwin sighed, standing up and fluttering over to it.
“H..hello?” he asked quietly.
“DARWIN WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU THE POLICE ARE HERE.” Carin’s voice was loud, panicked, and had a serious undertone of “I’ll kill you as soon as they’re gone, you little fucker.” Darwin let out a sigh, and lifted a hand to push his glasses out of the way, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, Carin. You can calm down. No, I’m okay. Yes, I’ll be there in a few minutes. …No, you cannot hit on the nice police officer, she’ll probably arrest you. …God, Carin, at least keep your panties on.” A pause, and Darwin smashed his head on the wall as Carin saw fit to inform him she wasn’t wearing those in the first place, and if he’d like to see, she could arrange a private viewing later that night, and all it’d cost him was a tiny part of his soul. Discount, bargain-basement prices!
Succubui were a pain in the ass to work with, really, and if she weren’t so good at getting clients, he’d have probably fired her a long time ago on the grounds of his mental health. (Not that he had much of that left today, but that’s neither here nor there). Either way, Darwin drug himself to the door, straightening his tie and brushing imaginary dust off of his jacket. Lock the door, walk to work.
The police were nice, at least, only asking him what had happened this morning and if he remembered anything out of the ordinary before the Crazy kicked in. The male, Officer Jones, looked at him a little cock-eyed; something told Darwin he was probably a little psychic, and picking up on his ever-running inner monologue, which was currently going on about how the entire place smelled of singed hair, and that singed hair smelled a lot like burnt popcorn, and that man, some Jiffy Pop would be amazing later tonight.
See? Totally post traumatic stress.
MEANWHILE.
There was a figure in the darkness. In typical “I’m an evil villain fear and love me!” fashion, it was cloaked with a hood, sitting on a throne made of something that looked like gold. In reality, it was just a really good paint job. Hey, even the villain falls on hard times.
Athna knelt at the bottom of the stereotypical stairs, fighting the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. In the dark, dim light (even though it was noon. That drove her crazy, after so many years of serving this jackass, never being able to hold a meeting in the fucking sunlight. But hey, what can you do when your boss is a vampire?)
“You are late.” The voice startled her out of her inner monologue. For all he tried to play the regal Overlord, her darling boss fell very flat with his voice. Alonzo had been turned just a few months shy of his 13th birthday, and hadn’t quite made it to puberty. Every now and again, the high, nasal whine that Athna had to listen to every day would crack, and trying to pretend that wasn’t the most hilarious thing in the world was really, really hard to do.
All she had to do was remind herself that she worked for this eternally pubescent dick, though, and that brought her back down to heart.
“I had some personal business to attend to,” she replied, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, torn between disgust for the circumstances that had lead to her having to take this job and utter amusement at the kid trying to keep his voice from leaping higher with his frustration. She tilted her head up, trying (and failing, but what did she expect when he was in the goddamn dark?) to read his facial expressions.
“Our mission,” Alonzo stressed, one long-nailed hand gripping the ornamental balls on his throne tighter, “is far more important than running to a filthy Human bank.” Despite the cracking, he managed to sound smug, and she bit back the growl rising in her throat, settling for tightening her grip on her robes. (Man, she hated those robes, but every job had a dress code…)
“I am sorry,” she managed, clenching her jaw. “My insurance was out of date.”
With a snort of derision, Alonzo carried on with the daily briefing. It was the same shit as always, and Athna mostly tuned it out. Some underling had done a sloppy cover-up job, some other underling had flipped a car, Jeremiah was out sick because he got a hangover from the drunken whore he’d fed on that night. (Jeremiah had horrible culinary tastes, Alonzo remarked, and there was a snicker around the room; Athna didn’t get it, but that’s the price one pays for being able to go out in the sunlight.)
And eventually, the meeting was over. Most of the minions went back to their tombs and crypts; she heard one or two mutter about having to schedule everything around the Sun-dweller’s schedule, and if she had been a lesser woman, she may have leapt up from where she knelt and ripped their filthy throats out.
As it was, she just curled her lips up in a snarl, standing and making sure that her robes swirled dramatically around her. Her hood fell back, and in the dim light (candles, of course; she’d begged Alonzo to upgrade to electric, but of course he wouldn’t. Goddamn old-fashioned asshole) her skin shimmered. It was a rich shade of blue, and in her opinion, looked better out in the sunlight.
But her opinion was lost on these worthless fools, and as she marched out of the lair, she held her head up high. They’d tremble before her might one day. They all would. Once she came into her Godhood, they would kneel at her feet and beg for a mercy she wasn’t all too inclined to give. This job had completely ruined vampires for her, which was a shame, since there were one or two she would’ve taken into her bed if they hadn’t been such pompous, arrogant nitwits, all because they had a century or seven on her.
Oh, if only they knew. The thought made Athna grin lustily, forcing the doors open. Behind her, she heard the tell-tale shriek and wail of a vampire caught in a sunbeam. What a lovely sound. With a careless flip of her hair (that had taken two hours and four servants to put up properly), she continued on her way, headed back to her apartment with all the confidence of a royal Queen.
Darwin couldn’t help it, and started chuckling as he fished his keys from his pocket. This whole day so far would just be more fodder for his shrink, and he was sure his next visit to her would finally be the one that broke her, forcing her to prescribe him medication and recommend a looney bin. He managed, through some miracle, to contain his chuckling until he was inside the safety of his apartment, the door locked and bolted behind him, before he broke down into mad, hysterical laughter.
His shrink would have a field day with this one. And hell, at this point, he could hardly blame her for thinking he was completely and utterly nuts. Yeah, sure, most doctors would probably tell him he was experience some kind of crazy post traumatic stress, and maybe that was really all it was.
Of course that was all it was. Darwin finished his manical laughing spree, standing (when had he sat, anyway? Maybe the laughter was just too much for his poor legs) and heading to the bathroom to wash his face off. Not that it was dirty, it just felt like the thing to do. People said that always helped to clear the mind, right?
A few more deep breaths, and Darwin was more or less coherent again. Of course it was all just the stress of seeing his office an exploded mess. Nothing more, nothing less. Years of training had taught Darwin to ignore that little voice in the back of his head telling him he was full of horse shit, that it wasn’t the office that had caused him to lose it, because going batshit insane over the mention of some crazed blue-skinned woman made less sense than a Mexican midget on a three-legged cat.
The phone rang, then, just as Darwin had decided he wasn’t crazy and he was perfectly within his rights to have a breakdown over the day’s start. And so of course he let out a shriek that would have made his little sister proud, diving for cover behind the couch before realizing it was just a phone. He peeked over the back of the couch at the offending appliance.
It continued its cheery ringing, lighting up a rather lovely shave of blue as it did so, and Darwin sighed, standing up and fluttering over to it.
“H..hello?” he asked quietly.
“DARWIN WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU THE POLICE ARE HERE.” Carin’s voice was loud, panicked, and had a serious undertone of “I’ll kill you as soon as they’re gone, you little fucker.” Darwin let out a sigh, and lifted a hand to push his glasses out of the way, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Okay, Carin. You can calm down. No, I’m okay. Yes, I’ll be there in a few minutes. …No, you cannot hit on the nice police officer, she’ll probably arrest you. …God, Carin, at least keep your panties on.” A pause, and Darwin smashed his head on the wall as Carin saw fit to inform him she wasn’t wearing those in the first place, and if he’d like to see, she could arrange a private viewing later that night, and all it’d cost him was a tiny part of his soul. Discount, bargain-basement prices!
Succubui were a pain in the ass to work with, really, and if she weren’t so good at getting clients, he’d have probably fired her a long time ago on the grounds of his mental health. (Not that he had much of that left today, but that’s neither here nor there). Either way, Darwin drug himself to the door, straightening his tie and brushing imaginary dust off of his jacket. Lock the door, walk to work.
The police were nice, at least, only asking him what had happened this morning and if he remembered anything out of the ordinary before the Crazy kicked in. The male, Officer Jones, looked at him a little cock-eyed; something told Darwin he was probably a little psychic, and picking up on his ever-running inner monologue, which was currently going on about how the entire place smelled of singed hair, and that singed hair smelled a lot like burnt popcorn, and that man, some Jiffy Pop would be amazing later tonight.
See? Totally post traumatic stress.
MEANWHILE.
There was a figure in the darkness. In typical “I’m an evil villain fear and love me!” fashion, it was cloaked with a hood, sitting on a throne made of something that looked like gold. In reality, it was just a really good paint job. Hey, even the villain falls on hard times.
Athna knelt at the bottom of the stereotypical stairs, fighting the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. In the dark, dim light (even though it was noon. That drove her crazy, after so many years of serving this jackass, never being able to hold a meeting in the fucking sunlight. But hey, what can you do when your boss is a vampire?)
“You are late.” The voice startled her out of her inner monologue. For all he tried to play the regal Overlord, her darling boss fell very flat with his voice. Alonzo had been turned just a few months shy of his 13th birthday, and hadn’t quite made it to puberty. Every now and again, the high, nasal whine that Athna had to listen to every day would crack, and trying to pretend that wasn’t the most hilarious thing in the world was really, really hard to do.
All she had to do was remind herself that she worked for this eternally pubescent dick, though, and that brought her back down to heart.
“I had some personal business to attend to,” she replied, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, torn between disgust for the circumstances that had lead to her having to take this job and utter amusement at the kid trying to keep his voice from leaping higher with his frustration. She tilted her head up, trying (and failing, but what did she expect when he was in the goddamn dark?) to read his facial expressions.
“Our mission,” Alonzo stressed, one long-nailed hand gripping the ornamental balls on his throne tighter, “is far more important than running to a filthy Human bank.” Despite the cracking, he managed to sound smug, and she bit back the growl rising in her throat, settling for tightening her grip on her robes. (Man, she hated those robes, but every job had a dress code…)
“I am sorry,” she managed, clenching her jaw. “My insurance was out of date.”
With a snort of derision, Alonzo carried on with the daily briefing. It was the same shit as always, and Athna mostly tuned it out. Some underling had done a sloppy cover-up job, some other underling had flipped a car, Jeremiah was out sick because he got a hangover from the drunken whore he’d fed on that night. (Jeremiah had horrible culinary tastes, Alonzo remarked, and there was a snicker around the room; Athna didn’t get it, but that’s the price one pays for being able to go out in the sunlight.)
And eventually, the meeting was over. Most of the minions went back to their tombs and crypts; she heard one or two mutter about having to schedule everything around the Sun-dweller’s schedule, and if she had been a lesser woman, she may have leapt up from where she knelt and ripped their filthy throats out.
As it was, she just curled her lips up in a snarl, standing and making sure that her robes swirled dramatically around her. Her hood fell back, and in the dim light (candles, of course; she’d begged Alonzo to upgrade to electric, but of course he wouldn’t. Goddamn old-fashioned asshole) her skin shimmered. It was a rich shade of blue, and in her opinion, looked better out in the sunlight.
But her opinion was lost on these worthless fools, and as she marched out of the lair, she held her head up high. They’d tremble before her might one day. They all would. Once she came into her Godhood, they would kneel at her feet and beg for a mercy she wasn’t all too inclined to give. This job had completely ruined vampires for her, which was a shame, since there were one or two she would’ve taken into her bed if they hadn’t been such pompous, arrogant nitwits, all because they had a century or seven on her.
Oh, if only they knew. The thought made Athna grin lustily, forcing the doors open. Behind her, she heard the tell-tale shriek and wail of a vampire caught in a sunbeam. What a lovely sound. With a careless flip of her hair (that had taken two hours and four servants to put up properly), she continued on her way, headed back to her apartment with all the confidence of a royal Queen.