(no subject)
Made From the Sharpest Things, 6/?, 7/?
Fandom: Bandom AU (primarily My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy, with various and sundry other bands).
Rating: Currently PG-13 (language, violence, eventual sexuality)
Pairings: Eventual Frank/Gerard, Pete/Patrick
Summary: What happens when the video for "A Little Less 16 Candles..." and repeat playings of "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" mix in my head.
Warnings: If the rating and the fact that it's bandom vampire AU hasn't already sent you running, I don't think there are any more warnings I need to give.
Notes: Still very Jersey-heavy, as my plans for Chicago are taking longer to come to fruition. Both of these also ended up as "everyone sits around and talks a lot" chapters, and I have an unsurprising weak spot for Gerard waxing philosophical about vampirism.
Previous chapters here, here, and here.
Frank doesn't get much sleep that night, and judging by the way Mikey looks the next morning, he didn't get much either. They end up meeting Ray and Bob at a diner not long after sunrise.
Frank had only given Ray the essentials on the phone the night before: he was at Mikey's, too late to be on the streets alone, they needed to talk but it could wait. Frank's original plan had been to get straight to the point--he doesn't want this conversation to drag out longer than it needs to--but that plan didn't take into account the fact that he hasn't been eating much the last few days, and
has been doing a lot of fighting, in practice or earnest, and when confronted with the smell of food now, he's suddenly ravenous.
Mikey, by comparison, barely touches his food. He looks anxious, skinny shoulders hunched, one foot tapping restlessly against the leg of their table. Frank can sort of see how being about to discuss your brother's state of undeath with a bunch of hunters would make you nervous.
Between "so, Mikey's big brother's a vampire" and "so, I ran into the vamp who killed my parents last night", there's no really good place to start, but at least bringing up Jepha doesn't involve any potential conflicts of interest.
"Sounds like you did all right," Ray says, after listening with quiet concern to Frank's account of the fight.
Frank shakes his head. "I could have killed him. I--he was
right there, and I just--"
"You froze up," Bob finishes for him, matter-of-factly. "Almost everyone does, their first time, and not everyone lives to tell about it." He reaches across the table and cuffs Frank gently on the side of his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
Ray's mind, meanwhile, seems to be elsewhere. "You said Mikey got away from Allman to help you out?"
"...Yeah, about that..." Frank glances sidelong at Mikey, raising his eyebrows a little. Y
ou tell him or I will. "We had a little help."
Ray looks at Mikey as well. "Yeah?"
Mikey toys with his fork for a moment, stabbing halfheartedly at his food a few more times, before he answers. "Yeah. Um. Remember when I told you Gee moved back to New York? That...might not have exactly been the truth."
Ray's eyebrows go up. "Are you gonna tell me what the truth
is?"
Mikey draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and then lets it out. "That Bert McCracken turned him into a vampire and he's been living in our basement drinking stolen hospital blood because he doesn't want to hurt anyone, and he saved me and Frank's lives last night."
"...Jesus, Mikey," Ray says after a moment of blank silence.
"I didn't know what you'd do if I told you," Mikey says, words coming out in a rush now. "And I won't let you hurt him. I know I probably couldn't stop you, but. I'd try."
Bob leans forward. There's this thing he does, Frank's noticed, where even though he's big he can sit back and be quiet and you almost forget he's there. Until he reminds you, still quiet, but not so easy to ignore anymore.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Bob says. "This guy you're talking about--he stepped into the fight on your side?"
"He's my older brother, and yes," Mikey says. He looks to Frank for confirmation, and, reluctantly, Frank nods.
"Yeah--like Mikey said, he probably saved our lives."
Bob looks from Frank to Mikey. "And he's been living with you...how long now, since he got turned?"
"A little more than two weeks," Mikey tells him.
"He hasn't hurt you?" Bob presses. "You haven't felt like you were in danger, having him in the house?"
"No," Mikey replies hotly. "He's my
brother."
"Most bloodsuckers I've tangled with wouldn't hesitate to hurt their own brother any more than a stranger," Bob informs him calmly. He smiles wryly, and adds, "Except Pete."
Ray looks over at Bob, his expression neutral. "You think we can take a chance on him not being a threat, I'm willing to trust your judgment on it."
"He wants to talk to you," Mikey says, cautiously hopeful. "He wants to help with McCracken and Jepha, if we'll let him."
Bob looks from Ray to Frank and back. "I'm game if you are."
Frank shrugs. "Hey, I slept in the guy's house last night. I can handle talking to him with you guys there. Toro?"
Ray thinks about it for a moment, then gives a shrug of his own. "Sure, I'm up for it."
"I've killed one person," is the first thing Gerard says to them, after introductions. "Just one." He pauses, then adds, "And a cat. If that's going to be something you're not going to be able to get past, I figure I should put it out there right away."
Mikey's sitting next to Gerard, with Frank, Ray, and Bob grouped together across from them. Ray seems to have been elected spokesman--he leans forward, arms braced on his knees, looking at Gerard carefully.
"Okay," he says steadily. “Why only one?"
Gerard looks down, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket, hooking the fabric over his thumb. "Do you know what becoming a vampire does to you?" he asks eventually. "I don't mean physically--do you know what it does to the way you see the world? To your soul, if that's what you want to call it?"
Ray shakes his head. "Can't say I've ever talked souls with a vampire before. You want to tell me about it?"
"It was..." Gerard pauses, searching for the right words. "It was like I could remember what right and wrong were, remember that I'd cared about them, but...it seemed like they didn't apply to me anymore. Like I'd gone beyond them. I'd probably still be with Bert and the others, if that hadn't changed."
"What changed it?" Ray asks.
"The kid," Gerard says quietly, still looking down at his hands. "The one I killed. He--fuck, he was young, and kind of tall and skinny, and it just sort of hit me. I just looked at him and thought, 'This could be Mikey. This kid could be my little brother.' And after that moment, I couldn't...detach from it any more. I couldn't kill people and act like it didn't matter."
He hasn't told Mikey about any of this. Then again, maybe he hasn't needed to.
Next to Gerard, Mikey clears his throat and then says, quietly, “Bert thinks if I’m dead, you’ll stop caring about all of that. That’s why they’ve got it in for me.”
Gerard ducks his head, takes a deep breath, and waits until he can speak normally. “Yeah, well. Bert never knew me as well as he thought he did.”
“So how come so many vampires stay perfectly happy killing people, and then one or two of you do the noble tortured vamp with a soul thing?” Ray doesn’t sound disbelieving-just like he doesn’t understand, and wants to.
Gerard shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Maybe a lot of ‘em never had brothers. Or didn’t like them if they did.” More seriously, he adds, “Or maybe they just never had that moment of thinking about it like I did. Maybe the first time you feed is like standing on the edge of a pit, and if you don’t pull yourself back from it, you just fall further and further.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t speak for anyone’s experience but my own.”
“So what now?” Frank’s been still and quiet, watching Gerard with a guarded expression. Now he leans forward. “You meant what you told Quinn last night?”
“Absolutely,” Gerard says. “I know Jepha’s the one you’re gunning for, but you won’t deal with him without having to deal with Bert. And for my own part, I’m not looking for revenge or anything, but if Mikey’s involved, so am I.”
“Then I think we can work together,” Ray says, and then glances at both Bob and Frank. “Unless anyone has any objections.”
Bob shrugs. “A vamp on your side can be damn useful to have, man. Fight fire with fire, and all that.”
Frank glances at Ray, then looks at Gerard again for a long moment. “I’m not saying I trust you. Yet. But I trust Mikey, and Ray, and Bob, and maybe that’s enough to go on for now.”
“It’s enough for me,” Gerard tells him, and holds out a hand.
Frank hesitates for a moment, then reaches across the space between them to take it.
They find out about the electricity by accident, one night on the outskirts of Punk territory.
They try not to stray into the sections of Chicago that’ve been claimed by particular gangs. It’s too much of a risk, and they’ve got enough to do making sure that no one gets a foothold in the territory that’s still unclaimed. But Patrick wants to keep their political map of the city as up-to-date as possible, so they patrol the edges-and if they can keep the territory they patrol from expanding at all, so much the better.
The Punks have been trying to push out lately, in more than one direction. Word at the Cobra is that they’ve been wandering into Hood territory, and that one or two have even been seen in the parts of town that belong to the Dandies, which is going to get them in trouble if it keeps up. Not that the hunters care much if the vamps want to make their work easier by taking each other out, but violence among the gangs has been known to spill over and be dangerous for bystanders.
So they’ve got an interest in keeping the Punks inside their own territory. Add in the part where Pete and Andy are both crazy, and that’s how the two of them end up fighting Punks on a fucking rooftop while Joe tries to scale a rickety fire escape as quickly and safely as possible and Patrick waits on the street, guarding the fire escape so that no more vampires can join the fight and occasionally shouting that he’s not catching anyone so they better not fucking fall.
Pete takes a kick to the chest and stumbles back, catching himself on the raised edge of the roof. For a moment, he’s leaning back, threatening to overbalance, and then he grips rough concrete with both hands and braces himself, feet planted firmly just as one of the Punks rushes him. There’s no time to get out of the way and no time to put up a really good defense, so Pete just ducks forward, catching the other vampire against his shoulder and hauling backwards.
The Punk flips over, long-nailed hands scrabbling at the edge of the roof and failing to find purchase before she falls-straight into the power lines about a foot below.
The landing isn’t pretty.
“So,” Joe’s the first to speak, once they’re back in safe (well, safer) territory. “Electricity can kill vampires?”
“Sure as hell looks like it,” Patrick says, breathing heavily as he leans back against a brick wall. “Don’t remember that from any of the lore I’ve studied, but it wouldn’t be the first thing we’ve had to find out on or own.”
Silence falls again, all of them trying to get their breath back, listening for any signs of pursuit.
“Can I have a taser?” Pete asks eventually. He almost sounds eager.
“Maybe,” Patrick tells him. “If you behave yourself.”
When they’re back at the warehouse, Patrick does what he always does when their list of assets expands: he makes coffee and sits down with a notebook and pencil, asking himself
What’s the best way we can use this?
Security, probably-they’ve been getting Father McLynn to bless all the entrances to the werehouse on a regular basis, but if they can rig up some way of zapping would-be intruders, that might be easier to maintain (as long as William doesn’t start getting his hands on power stations or anything like that).
As far as the offensive goes, tasers are one possibility. But, assuming he can get the parts, Patrick thinks he might be able to come up with something just a bit better.
While Patrick brainstorms, Pete spreads the word. Not on the blog-showing their hand on this so soon probably isn’t a good idea, and contrary to what some people think, Pete’s not
totally hopeless with strategy. What he does instead is spread the word to those he knows enough to feel like he can trust.
Brian’s dubious, but doesn’t raise any objections when he meets Gerard. What he does do is look Gerard squarely in the eye, stick out a hand, and say, “You do anything to hurt me or mine, I’ll light you on fire and douse you with holy water. Otherwise, we’re good.”
Gerard raises one eyebrow slightly, says, “Likewise, without the holy water,” and shakes.
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Frank snorts. “Well, that sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
Bob smirks, and nudges him with an elbow. “What, you’ve never had a friendship that started with death threats before?”
“Newbie,” Ray contributes, leaning against Frank with his own elbow on Frank’s shoulder until he ducks away with a scowl.
Brian looks over at the three of them. “If you guys want to quit it with the peanut gallery so we can maybe discuss some strategy?”
“I have an idea,” Mikey blurts out suddenly. They all turn to look at him, and he holds up the notebook he brought with him to the loft. “I mean, I might. I don’t know if it’ll really work.”
“Never hurts to bring ideas to the table, kid,” Brian says. “Let’s see it.”
They gather around the table, and Mikey opens up the notebook but doesn’t show it to them yet, holding it against his chest.
“I got the idea from what Gerard said the other night-about Jeph being the one Frank’s gunning for, remember? It struck me as sort of a funny thing to say, because you don’t use guns on vampires, right?”
“Right…” Ray says, clearly not seeing where this is going.
“And that got me thinking-what if there was a way you could?” Mikey puts his notebook down and pushes it toward the center of the table, letting them all see the rough diagram, accompanied by notes in his scratchy, slanting handwriting. “I don’t know anything about ballistics or anything, so maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to actually make these, but…”
“…They’re capsules,” Brian says, leaning forward to study the diagram. “Look like bullets, but the chambers are hollow, so you can fill ‘em with-” his eyes flick up to meet Mikey’s, “-holy water?”
Mikey nods. “And the tip’s made some way that’ll break apart on impact. That’s the part I’m most unsure about if it’ll work or not.”
“Wouldn’t be easy,” Brian says, “But it might be worth a shot, no pun intended.” He glances at the diagram again, and adds, “Probably wouldn’t be cheap, either-this sort of work, you want professionals.”
“About that.” Frank leans forward, looking from Brian to Ray. “I’ve been meaning to ask about money-in general, I mean, how you guys get by. Hunting doesn’t strike me as a high-paying job, so far, unless you become, like, a bounty hunter or something.”
Ray shrugs. “You learn to get by okay-Brian’s got some investments that’ve paid off pretty well, and he kind of pays most of our rent. I work odd jobs when I can. You might’ve noticed we don’t exactly live in style, but we make do.”
“That’s about what I figured,” Frank says. He swallows hard, licks his lips, and then adds, “Um. My parents left me everything. The house, their car, all their savings-”
Brian holds up a hand, interrupting him gently. “Then you’re a hunter who doesn’t have to worry about money, which is a good thing to be, and you should hang on to what you’ve got.”
Frank goes on stubbornly. “I want to sell the house. I don’t want-I couldn’t live there any more. And if any of what I’ve got can help us with this, then that’s what I want to use it for.”
Brian looks at him for a moment, then nods. “Your call. I’ll talk to some people, see about getting us some ammo if Mikey’s idea works out. Anything else we need to talk about?”
Gerard clears his throat. “Mikey said you’d know where I can get a good sword?”
Brian nods. “You might want to let someone else interact with the dealers, but I can get you some specs to look over.”
“We get you a sword, are you gonna know how to use it?” Bob asks.
“Not really,” Gerard admits. “I got the speed and the strength and everything, but I haven’t tried them out much yet. And my sword-swinging’s pretty much limited to the kind where I’m holding a video game controller.”
Bob smirks a little. “Congratulations, Frankie, I think we just found you a sparring partner.”
Frank doesn’t object, per se, but he slouches down in his chair a little and shoves his hands in his pockets. Mikey eyes him for a moment.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks Bob, who nods.
“I’ll make sure they play nicely.”
They talk a bit more, working out details and a schedule for training. Frank’s getting in an argument with Ray about how long he should wait before trying to actually hunt when Mikey’s Sidekick buzzes, and he looks down, flipping it open.
“Hey,” he says, voice raised to cut through the argument. “Did you guys know electricity kills vampires?”
Fandom: Bandom AU (primarily My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy, with various and sundry other bands).
Rating: Currently PG-13 (language, violence, eventual sexuality)
Pairings: Eventual Frank/Gerard, Pete/Patrick
Summary: What happens when the video for "A Little Less 16 Candles..." and repeat playings of "Vampires Will Never Hurt You" mix in my head.
Warnings: If the rating and the fact that it's bandom vampire AU hasn't already sent you running, I don't think there are any more warnings I need to give.
Notes: Still very Jersey-heavy, as my plans for Chicago are taking longer to come to fruition. Both of these also ended up as "everyone sits around and talks a lot" chapters, and I have an unsurprising weak spot for Gerard waxing philosophical about vampirism.
Previous chapters here, here, and here.
Frank doesn't get much sleep that night, and judging by the way Mikey looks the next morning, he didn't get much either. They end up meeting Ray and Bob at a diner not long after sunrise.
Frank had only given Ray the essentials on the phone the night before: he was at Mikey's, too late to be on the streets alone, they needed to talk but it could wait. Frank's original plan had been to get straight to the point--he doesn't want this conversation to drag out longer than it needs to--but that plan didn't take into account the fact that he hasn't been eating much the last few days, and
has been doing a lot of fighting, in practice or earnest, and when confronted with the smell of food now, he's suddenly ravenous.
Mikey, by comparison, barely touches his food. He looks anxious, skinny shoulders hunched, one foot tapping restlessly against the leg of their table. Frank can sort of see how being about to discuss your brother's state of undeath with a bunch of hunters would make you nervous.
Between "so, Mikey's big brother's a vampire" and "so, I ran into the vamp who killed my parents last night", there's no really good place to start, but at least bringing up Jepha doesn't involve any potential conflicts of interest.
"Sounds like you did all right," Ray says, after listening with quiet concern to Frank's account of the fight.
Frank shakes his head. "I could have killed him. I--he was
right there, and I just--"
"You froze up," Bob finishes for him, matter-of-factly. "Almost everyone does, their first time, and not everyone lives to tell about it." He reaches across the table and cuffs Frank gently on the side of his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
Ray's mind, meanwhile, seems to be elsewhere. "You said Mikey got away from Allman to help you out?"
"...Yeah, about that..." Frank glances sidelong at Mikey, raising his eyebrows a little. Y
ou tell him or I will. "We had a little help."
Ray looks at Mikey as well. "Yeah?"
Mikey toys with his fork for a moment, stabbing halfheartedly at his food a few more times, before he answers. "Yeah. Um. Remember when I told you Gee moved back to New York? That...might not have exactly been the truth."
Ray's eyebrows go up. "Are you gonna tell me what the truth
is?"
Mikey draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and then lets it out. "That Bert McCracken turned him into a vampire and he's been living in our basement drinking stolen hospital blood because he doesn't want to hurt anyone, and he saved me and Frank's lives last night."
"...Jesus, Mikey," Ray says after a moment of blank silence.
"I didn't know what you'd do if I told you," Mikey says, words coming out in a rush now. "And I won't let you hurt him. I know I probably couldn't stop you, but. I'd try."
Bob leans forward. There's this thing he does, Frank's noticed, where even though he's big he can sit back and be quiet and you almost forget he's there. Until he reminds you, still quiet, but not so easy to ignore anymore.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Bob says. "This guy you're talking about--he stepped into the fight on your side?"
"He's my older brother, and yes," Mikey says. He looks to Frank for confirmation, and, reluctantly, Frank nods.
"Yeah--like Mikey said, he probably saved our lives."
Bob looks from Frank to Mikey. "And he's been living with you...how long now, since he got turned?"
"A little more than two weeks," Mikey tells him.
"He hasn't hurt you?" Bob presses. "You haven't felt like you were in danger, having him in the house?"
"No," Mikey replies hotly. "He's my
brother."
"Most bloodsuckers I've tangled with wouldn't hesitate to hurt their own brother any more than a stranger," Bob informs him calmly. He smiles wryly, and adds, "Except Pete."
Ray looks over at Bob, his expression neutral. "You think we can take a chance on him not being a threat, I'm willing to trust your judgment on it."
"He wants to talk to you," Mikey says, cautiously hopeful. "He wants to help with McCracken and Jepha, if we'll let him."
Bob looks from Ray to Frank and back. "I'm game if you are."
Frank shrugs. "Hey, I slept in the guy's house last night. I can handle talking to him with you guys there. Toro?"
Ray thinks about it for a moment, then gives a shrug of his own. "Sure, I'm up for it."
"I've killed one person," is the first thing Gerard says to them, after introductions. "Just one." He pauses, then adds, "And a cat. If that's going to be something you're not going to be able to get past, I figure I should put it out there right away."
Mikey's sitting next to Gerard, with Frank, Ray, and Bob grouped together across from them. Ray seems to have been elected spokesman--he leans forward, arms braced on his knees, looking at Gerard carefully.
"Okay," he says steadily. “Why only one?"
Gerard looks down, fiddling with the cuff of his jacket, hooking the fabric over his thumb. "Do you know what becoming a vampire does to you?" he asks eventually. "I don't mean physically--do you know what it does to the way you see the world? To your soul, if that's what you want to call it?"
Ray shakes his head. "Can't say I've ever talked souls with a vampire before. You want to tell me about it?"
"It was..." Gerard pauses, searching for the right words. "It was like I could remember what right and wrong were, remember that I'd cared about them, but...it seemed like they didn't apply to me anymore. Like I'd gone beyond them. I'd probably still be with Bert and the others, if that hadn't changed."
"What changed it?" Ray asks.
"The kid," Gerard says quietly, still looking down at his hands. "The one I killed. He--fuck, he was young, and kind of tall and skinny, and it just sort of hit me. I just looked at him and thought, 'This could be Mikey. This kid could be my little brother.' And after that moment, I couldn't...detach from it any more. I couldn't kill people and act like it didn't matter."
He hasn't told Mikey about any of this. Then again, maybe he hasn't needed to.
Next to Gerard, Mikey clears his throat and then says, quietly, “Bert thinks if I’m dead, you’ll stop caring about all of that. That’s why they’ve got it in for me.”
Gerard ducks his head, takes a deep breath, and waits until he can speak normally. “Yeah, well. Bert never knew me as well as he thought he did.”
“So how come so many vampires stay perfectly happy killing people, and then one or two of you do the noble tortured vamp with a soul thing?” Ray doesn’t sound disbelieving-just like he doesn’t understand, and wants to.
Gerard shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Maybe a lot of ‘em never had brothers. Or didn’t like them if they did.” More seriously, he adds, “Or maybe they just never had that moment of thinking about it like I did. Maybe the first time you feed is like standing on the edge of a pit, and if you don’t pull yourself back from it, you just fall further and further.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I can’t speak for anyone’s experience but my own.”
“So what now?” Frank’s been still and quiet, watching Gerard with a guarded expression. Now he leans forward. “You meant what you told Quinn last night?”
“Absolutely,” Gerard says. “I know Jepha’s the one you’re gunning for, but you won’t deal with him without having to deal with Bert. And for my own part, I’m not looking for revenge or anything, but if Mikey’s involved, so am I.”
“Then I think we can work together,” Ray says, and then glances at both Bob and Frank. “Unless anyone has any objections.”
Bob shrugs. “A vamp on your side can be damn useful to have, man. Fight fire with fire, and all that.”
Frank glances at Ray, then looks at Gerard again for a long moment. “I’m not saying I trust you. Yet. But I trust Mikey, and Ray, and Bob, and maybe that’s enough to go on for now.”
“It’s enough for me,” Gerard tells him, and holds out a hand.
Frank hesitates for a moment, then reaches across the space between them to take it.
They find out about the electricity by accident, one night on the outskirts of Punk territory.
They try not to stray into the sections of Chicago that’ve been claimed by particular gangs. It’s too much of a risk, and they’ve got enough to do making sure that no one gets a foothold in the territory that’s still unclaimed. But Patrick wants to keep their political map of the city as up-to-date as possible, so they patrol the edges-and if they can keep the territory they patrol from expanding at all, so much the better.
The Punks have been trying to push out lately, in more than one direction. Word at the Cobra is that they’ve been wandering into Hood territory, and that one or two have even been seen in the parts of town that belong to the Dandies, which is going to get them in trouble if it keeps up. Not that the hunters care much if the vamps want to make their work easier by taking each other out, but violence among the gangs has been known to spill over and be dangerous for bystanders.
So they’ve got an interest in keeping the Punks inside their own territory. Add in the part where Pete and Andy are both crazy, and that’s how the two of them end up fighting Punks on a fucking rooftop while Joe tries to scale a rickety fire escape as quickly and safely as possible and Patrick waits on the street, guarding the fire escape so that no more vampires can join the fight and occasionally shouting that he’s not catching anyone so they better not fucking fall.
Pete takes a kick to the chest and stumbles back, catching himself on the raised edge of the roof. For a moment, he’s leaning back, threatening to overbalance, and then he grips rough concrete with both hands and braces himself, feet planted firmly just as one of the Punks rushes him. There’s no time to get out of the way and no time to put up a really good defense, so Pete just ducks forward, catching the other vampire against his shoulder and hauling backwards.
The Punk flips over, long-nailed hands scrabbling at the edge of the roof and failing to find purchase before she falls-straight into the power lines about a foot below.
The landing isn’t pretty.
“So,” Joe’s the first to speak, once they’re back in safe (well, safer) territory. “Electricity can kill vampires?”
“Sure as hell looks like it,” Patrick says, breathing heavily as he leans back against a brick wall. “Don’t remember that from any of the lore I’ve studied, but it wouldn’t be the first thing we’ve had to find out on or own.”
Silence falls again, all of them trying to get their breath back, listening for any signs of pursuit.
“Can I have a taser?” Pete asks eventually. He almost sounds eager.
“Maybe,” Patrick tells him. “If you behave yourself.”
When they’re back at the warehouse, Patrick does what he always does when their list of assets expands: he makes coffee and sits down with a notebook and pencil, asking himself
What’s the best way we can use this?
Security, probably-they’ve been getting Father McLynn to bless all the entrances to the werehouse on a regular basis, but if they can rig up some way of zapping would-be intruders, that might be easier to maintain (as long as William doesn’t start getting his hands on power stations or anything like that).
As far as the offensive goes, tasers are one possibility. But, assuming he can get the parts, Patrick thinks he might be able to come up with something just a bit better.
While Patrick brainstorms, Pete spreads the word. Not on the blog-showing their hand on this so soon probably isn’t a good idea, and contrary to what some people think, Pete’s not
totally hopeless with strategy. What he does instead is spread the word to those he knows enough to feel like he can trust.
Brian’s dubious, but doesn’t raise any objections when he meets Gerard. What he does do is look Gerard squarely in the eye, stick out a hand, and say, “You do anything to hurt me or mine, I’ll light you on fire and douse you with holy water. Otherwise, we’re good.”
Gerard raises one eyebrow slightly, says, “Likewise, without the holy water,” and shakes.
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Frank snorts. “Well, that sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”
Bob smirks, and nudges him with an elbow. “What, you’ve never had a friendship that started with death threats before?”
“Newbie,” Ray contributes, leaning against Frank with his own elbow on Frank’s shoulder until he ducks away with a scowl.
Brian looks over at the three of them. “If you guys want to quit it with the peanut gallery so we can maybe discuss some strategy?”
“I have an idea,” Mikey blurts out suddenly. They all turn to look at him, and he holds up the notebook he brought with him to the loft. “I mean, I might. I don’t know if it’ll really work.”
“Never hurts to bring ideas to the table, kid,” Brian says. “Let’s see it.”
They gather around the table, and Mikey opens up the notebook but doesn’t show it to them yet, holding it against his chest.
“I got the idea from what Gerard said the other night-about Jeph being the one Frank’s gunning for, remember? It struck me as sort of a funny thing to say, because you don’t use guns on vampires, right?”
“Right…” Ray says, clearly not seeing where this is going.
“And that got me thinking-what if there was a way you could?” Mikey puts his notebook down and pushes it toward the center of the table, letting them all see the rough diagram, accompanied by notes in his scratchy, slanting handwriting. “I don’t know anything about ballistics or anything, so maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to actually make these, but…”
“…They’re capsules,” Brian says, leaning forward to study the diagram. “Look like bullets, but the chambers are hollow, so you can fill ‘em with-” his eyes flick up to meet Mikey’s, “-holy water?”
Mikey nods. “And the tip’s made some way that’ll break apart on impact. That’s the part I’m most unsure about if it’ll work or not.”
“Wouldn’t be easy,” Brian says, “But it might be worth a shot, no pun intended.” He glances at the diagram again, and adds, “Probably wouldn’t be cheap, either-this sort of work, you want professionals.”
“About that.” Frank leans forward, looking from Brian to Ray. “I’ve been meaning to ask about money-in general, I mean, how you guys get by. Hunting doesn’t strike me as a high-paying job, so far, unless you become, like, a bounty hunter or something.”
Ray shrugs. “You learn to get by okay-Brian’s got some investments that’ve paid off pretty well, and he kind of pays most of our rent. I work odd jobs when I can. You might’ve noticed we don’t exactly live in style, but we make do.”
“That’s about what I figured,” Frank says. He swallows hard, licks his lips, and then adds, “Um. My parents left me everything. The house, their car, all their savings-”
Brian holds up a hand, interrupting him gently. “Then you’re a hunter who doesn’t have to worry about money, which is a good thing to be, and you should hang on to what you’ve got.”
Frank goes on stubbornly. “I want to sell the house. I don’t want-I couldn’t live there any more. And if any of what I’ve got can help us with this, then that’s what I want to use it for.”
Brian looks at him for a moment, then nods. “Your call. I’ll talk to some people, see about getting us some ammo if Mikey’s idea works out. Anything else we need to talk about?”
Gerard clears his throat. “Mikey said you’d know where I can get a good sword?”
Brian nods. “You might want to let someone else interact with the dealers, but I can get you some specs to look over.”
“We get you a sword, are you gonna know how to use it?” Bob asks.
“Not really,” Gerard admits. “I got the speed and the strength and everything, but I haven’t tried them out much yet. And my sword-swinging’s pretty much limited to the kind where I’m holding a video game controller.”
Bob smirks a little. “Congratulations, Frankie, I think we just found you a sparring partner.”
Frank doesn’t object, per se, but he slouches down in his chair a little and shoves his hands in his pockets. Mikey eyes him for a moment.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks Bob, who nods.
“I’ll make sure they play nicely.”
They talk a bit more, working out details and a schedule for training. Frank’s getting in an argument with Ray about how long he should wait before trying to actually hunt when Mikey’s Sidekick buzzes, and he looks down, flipping it open.
“Hey,” he says, voice raised to cut through the argument. “Did you guys know electricity kills vampires?”