Anyway, back to the two guys who were debating whether I'd live through the night or wind up looking like something that was dumped out of an ashtray. The whole exchange seemed to deflate Jeff's sails a bit. He took a breath and composed himself, at least as well as a self-absorbed dickhead can compose himself.
“Fine. What is it you want?” he asked Ozymandias.
“That's better,” answered Ozymandias, returning to his former casual tone. “What I'm decreeing is simple enough. I'm putting this fellow under my protection.”
Cool! I must've impressed him with my badass escape attempt.
“Why would you do that?” Jeff asked.
“Because I find him amusing,” Ozymandias replied. “That's a rare thing around your bunch.”
Okay, so maybe impress wasn't quite the right word.
“Oh, and Jeff...” at this, Jeff's face reddened considerably. “Sorry, I meant Night Razor, forgive my rudeness. I'm also decreeing that he's now a part of your coven.” Ozymandias momentarily turned his head in my direction and said, “Sorry friend, but, amusing or not, I'm far too busy to babysit.”
“I don't see that you'll have a choice,” Jeff Razor, or whatever the fuck his name was, cut in. “I can't take him. My coven is full. I'd love to make an exception, but as per the Draculas' laws, I'm maxed out. As their representative, I'm sure you wouldn't want to break the very rules you're charged with enforcing,” he mocked.
“You're quite right. Silly me,” replied Ozymandias. Suddenly, with a swiftness and ferocity that I would never have expected from someone who looked like he just stepped out of a Harvard prep school, he spun around and impaled his fist straight through the chest of the unfortunate vampire who happened to be standing closest behind him. The vamp burst into flames even as Ozymandias was still elbow-deep in him. Within a few seconds, all that was left was a little ash clinging to his arm and a stunned (myself included) crowd of onlookers. Note to self: do NOT fuck with Ozymandias.
He casually dusted himself off and then turned back to Jeff, “Oh, look. It seems you have an opening, after all.”
“You killed Rage Vector!” shouted Jeff.
“Is that what you called him?” Ozymandias asked with a grin. “Stupid name, if you ask me. Never really liked him much, anyway.”
Another male voice from the back chimed in, “Goddamn it! He owed me fifty bucks.”
“Send the bill to my attention,” Ozymandias continued, his eyes still focused on Jeff. “Anyone else have anything further to add?” Unsurprisingly, he was met with silence. “Good. I thought you'd all see it my way. As for you,” he turned back toward me, “do you accept inclusion into your sire, Night Razor's, coven, and promise to abide by his rules? Before you answer, let me just be clear that the alternative is the same fate as your fellow party guests. The Draculas are not fond of uncovened vampires.”
“Is uncovened even a word?” I, for some goddamned stupid reason, blurted out before I could censor myself. I paused for just a heartbeat as I mentally berated myself for breaking my ‘no messing with this guy’ rule no more than ten seconds after I made it, and then continued once I noticed I still wasn't a pile of dust. “Err, sorry about that. What I meant to say was that, of course, I'll be happy to accept membership.” (At least until I figure out how to get myself out of this freaking mess!)
“I thought you would.” Then back to Jeff, “Well it appears to be all settled, then. Now if we could just make it official. And do hurry. There are only a few hours ‘til daybreak (guess I was 'dead' longer than I thought) and I'd prefer to spend it in my hotel room.”
Judging by Jeff's glare, he was trying to incinerate us both with his mind. When that didn't happen, he took a deep breath and appeared to compose himself.
“Gather round, my children, and esteemed guest. It is time to welcome a new br... brother in blood into our ranks.”
Since the assembled vamps were already standing around us in a circle (a circle slightly outside of Ozymandias’ reach) there was only a minor shuffling. I guess there was some order or ranking going on, but I couldn't really tell. Can't say I really cared, either.
“Uh, so what should I do?” I asked.
Guess that was a bad move, because Jeff rounded on me and practically jumped down my throat.
“The initiate...” he hissed, “will be... SILENT!”
On that last word, his voice seemed to reverberate inside my entire head. Scratch that. I could feel it in my bones. What the fuck? I could feel myself reeling from the sheer power of it. Even weirder, for just a second, I almost felt compelled to obey. Damn, that was weird.
Still, for the moment, it seemed like prudent advice, so I zipped it. Jeff, in return, gave me a self-satisfied sneer, a really creepy one, too, like he knew something I didn't. Or maybe I was just reading too much into it and it was just another extension of his douchebag nature. Either way, it wasn't doing much to enhance my opinion of him. I could probably adjust to being a blood-sucking denizen of the dark, but having to deal with this asshole lording it over me for all of eternity... well that was going to be a tough one to swallow.
Jeff continued on with his little self-important soliloquy, “Does anyone reject our new little brother? Speak now and let your voice be heard.” Jeff paused and glanced around, probably hoping that someone would speak up and point out a couple of good reasons that I needed to have my ass killed. However, all eyes were firmly on Ozymandias. Whatever objections they might have had were very obviously silenced by his earlier example.
“Very well,” Jeff continued as he once more turned to me. “I release you from your earlier compulsion (whatever the fuck that meant). You may now speak. Do you accept the assembled as your brothers and sisters?”
Jeez, it's melodramatic shit like this that kept me from joining a frat in college. Not to mention the fact that I seriously doubted I would ever have sisterly thoughts toward any of the assembled babes. But still, in the interest of staying alive, I merely said yes, and then shut it again.
“So be it,” Jeff continued, “Since my time of ascension, it has been the tradition of this coven that all new members must cast off their old selves and assume a name more befitting of their new station in the after-death. I have been, am now, and shall forever be Night Razor (aka Jeff... so much for casting off old identities). So, too, must you now forsake your old life. It is over. Choose a new name to take with you into your new existence. As your master (fuck you!) it is my entitlement to SUGGEST (whoa, that weird ringing in my head again) what that new name might be. Thus, I say your new name should be...”
“Hold it,” I interrupted, “I think I'd just as soon choose my own name, thank you very much.”
For some reason, this seemed to surprise Night Razor, and he appeared at a loss for words. Even Ozymandias seemed a bit taken aback, albeit only momentarily. He quickly composed himself and spoke up before Night Razor could do so.
“I believe your new recruit here is correct. It is ultimately his choice, if he wishes. However, if I may, I find myself favoring the name Darkwing,” he said with a smirk, alluding to my earlier failed attempt at a badass one-liner.
I gave him a withering stare back and said, “Pass. Instead I think I'll be...” Oh fuck me! I hate being put on the spot. I had no freaking idea what to choose. I mean, it took me a whole frigging week just to come up with a name for my last Dungeons & Dragons character, and, no, I wasn't using that. I had no intention of being Kelvin Lightblade for the rest of my days. And yet, somehow I doubted they'd let me off with an “I'll get back to you on that.”
Think, think, think, stupid!
My email address? No.
Any older characters? Nothing cool was coming to mind.
TV characters? Hmmm, Cobra Commander had potential... but nah!
One of my online game IDs? Sure! Why not?
“Call me... Dr. Death!” I blurted out. I was sure I'd be met with praise and awe at such a kickass name. Instead, I got silence. Damn, maybe I should have go
ne with Cobra Commander, after all.
“Dr. Death!?” Night Razor blurted out. “You've got to be kidding me.”
“What?” I countered. “It's no stupider than Night Razor!” Oh fuck! There I go again, talking before thinking.
Another chuckle came from Ozymandias. That was a good sign. As long as he was laughing, I'd probably still be drawing breath. But ole Jeffy sure as shit didn't seem to be amused.
“ENOUGH!” he practically roared. “Fine, take whatever name you want. In three months, it won't matter.” I was about to question that little detail, but he apparently wasn't finished. “Dr. Death,” he mocked, “do you pledge your allegiance to the coven and your master?”
“Uh sure, I guess.”
Okay, maybe that answer didn't quite convince him of my undying loyalty, because suddenly he did that voice ringing through my skull thing again.
“ENOUGH OF YOUR INSOLENCE! I AM YOUR SIRE, YOUR MASTER! NOW KNEEL! KNEEL AND PREPARE TO RECEIVE MY BLESSING!”
Blessing? I'm not a homophobe or anything, but that sounded just a little too much like a line from this bukake film I sorta accidentally downloaded the other week. Once again, I had this fleeting urge to do as he said, but, once again, it quickly passed, and I was able to clear my head. Damn, I don't know what the hell he was doing or how the hell he was doing it, but I was certain I'd need a few aspirins come the morning. Either way, none of that mattered. What did was that it was all starting to piss me off.
“No,” I said.
“What?” Jeff barked, again almost incredulously.
“I said no. Screw that! I'll join your club here; doesn't seem like I have much choice in the matter. But no way am I getting on my knees. You can get one of your lackeys to suck your dick, or whatever it is you want.”
“Unbelievable,” said Ozymandias
“No fucking way! It can't be,” Jeff spat and then rounded on Ozymandias. “A goddamn Freewill, Ozymandias!? Are you fucking for real?”
“Don't look at me,” Ozymandias replied, sounding genuinely surprised. “I had no idea he was one. I wasn't even sure they really existed.”
At this, the collective hive of vamps burst into excited whispers. Gotta say, absolutely nothing kills the aura of menace that a room full of vampires exudes faster than them suddenly acting like a bunch of twelve year old girls. On the other hand, at least I could understand something like that, which was good, because I had no clue what Razor and Ozymandias were talking about.
“Let's not jump to conclusions, Night Razor,” Ozymandias continued. “It doesn't take a genius to see he's had you frazzled since you turned him. Who knows, maybe you're just losing your touch. Let me try,” and then to me, “Yo, Dr. Death! Gah, and I thought Rage Vector was a stupid name. I COMMAND YOU TO HOP ON ONE FOOT!”
If Night Razor's voice rattled in my bones, Ozymandias' voice sounded like someone had plugged a thousand-watt amp straight into my soul. Christ! I was probably going to hear him reverberating around in my skull for a week. Loud as it was, though, that earlier feeling I had momentarily felt to obey Night Razor's commands just wasn't there for this. I was either getting used to it, or I was just getting royally pissed off at all the people trying to tell me what the hell to do. I remained standing... on both feet.
“Well, I'll be staked at high noon!” Ozymandias exclaimed and suddenly burst into laughter. “Oh, this is absolutely brilliant! Can I pick ‘em, or what?”
Night Razor was not nearly as amused. “This is not cool, Ozymandias. How the hell am I supposed to maintain order with this fucking thing running around in my coven?”
“No idea. But fortunately, that's not my problem.”
“Seriously, you can't leave him here. Take him with you. Maybe the Draculas can dissect him or something.” (Okay, that didn't sound promising.)
“Oh, I'm sure the Draculas will want to hear about him,” Ozymandias replied. “But until I get some definitive word from them, he's part of your coven. I can't interfere.”
“Fuck that! You've already interfered!”
Ozymandias shrugged, “Okay, you got me there. I choose not to interfere. Better?”
“No! That still doesn't help me.”
“Well, then assign him a babysitter or something! Just stop whining like a little girl about it.”
Night Razor still wasn't done, though. “James, please!” (James?)
“Enough!” barked Ozymandias, the threat returning to his voice. “My ruling stands, end of discussion. The sun will be up in another hour or so. I need to go. Take a little while and think about things, Night Razor. I'm sure a smart fellow like you can come up with something.”
With that, Ozymandias (or was that James... what is it with these guys?) turned his back on Razor and faced me. “Good luck to you, my amusing and surprising friend. I don't doubt you'll need it.”
He retrieved his coat and went straight for the exit, nobody daring to get in his way. A quick slam of the door, and the one person that I had on my side, sorta, was gone. I was alone in a sea of predators.
The thing is, the predators didn't seem to be too hungry anymore. Most of them hung back from me, still whispering amongst themselves. Night Razor finally broke the silence,
“Ozymandias is right! Sunrise is right around the corner. You should all be getting back to your nests.” When no one made a move to leave, he put some extra juice into his voice. ”NOW, PEOPLE! GET MOVING. I DON'T WANT ANYONE GETTING CAUGHT IN THE SUN. There have been enough dustings for one day. NOW MOVE!” He couldn't have gotten a better response if he had personally booted each and every one of them in the ass. Whatever I had in me that allowed me to resist his voice, the others either didn't have, or chose not to use. So that left a bunch of scrambling vamps with only myself and Razor standing still.
“So... um... can I go home now?” I asked as non-confrontationally as I possibly could.
“Even if I wanted to let you go, which I am still debating, no. The sun is coming up soon, and, my personal feelings aside, as one of my coven, I am bound by our laws to keep you from toasting yourself. Besides which, we are your home now.”
“Yeah, I get it, blood brothers and all. But I have an apartment, roommates, a job that's going to kick my ass if I don't report in...”
“You don't get it. Your life is over. All of that is dust now. We are your new family. We are your new life, for however long that might last (*gulp*). You will stay here for now until I can figure out what to do with you.”
“Yeah, but...”
“I INSIST!” Before I could form another protest on my lips, my field of vision was rapidly filled by an extreme close-up of Night Razor's fist. Guess the argument was settled after all, since I didn't even feel myself hitting the floor.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
“Ugh! Please tell gramps not to back his car over me again...”
“What?”
Wait a second. That voice sounded familiar. Female, but definitely not Mom or Grandma. That must mean unrelated, which probably means... oh yeah… got to bump me some uglies last night. Just please don't be a hairy Sasquatch beast when I open my eyes!
“Come on, wake up! Christ! How hard did Jeff hit you?”
Jeff? Oh, shit, Night Razor! Dammit, I'm doing it again! I have got to stop dying around that asshole. Oh, wait, no fading heartbeat this time. Guess I technically didn't die again. That's right... the fucker punched my lights out! Hope he didn't draw any dicks on my face.
“Jesus Christ, Bill, get up or I'm going to leave without you!” the voice threatened.
“Dr. Death,” I managed to croak in response as I felt my senses slowly returning to me.
“No way am I calling you that stupid fucking name. That's Jeff's idiotic rule, and since he ain't here, fuck that shit!”
“Okay, okay. I'm getting up. Just quit your goddamn yelling...” I opened my eyes. “You! You fucking bitch!” I spat as I focused on Sally's traitorous, but still hot... let's not completely forget our priorities here... face. She was
staring down at me, wearing a pair of silk pajamas (oh yeah... me likey likey... no! I've got to focus. Bitch got me killed). Judging from how far above me she stood, I was still lying on the floor. Assholes had just left me where I fell.
“No need to be rude,” she sniffed.
“RUDE!? Because of you, I'm a fucking walking corpse being held prisoner by a bigger, meaner walking corpse,” I growled as I pushed myself to a sitting position.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't anything personal.”
“That's the best you've got? A pathetic little sorry?”
“Well, yeah,” she countered. “Like I said, it wasn't personal. We were just having a little fun, and you fit the description of who I was supposed to bring. Besides which, you didn't have to come. I didn't exactly force you.” (Touché.)
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