Just Another Vampire Story #7
"Prejudiced To The End"
Detective Skitt cursed as he fought his way through the mob of people fleeing from The Hot Spot, wishing that he hadn't been the first to arrive on the scene, and wondering what in the hell could induce such a panic. Usually, they had to haul people out of the way, not fight their way through them, and at a dive like The Hot Spot, that wasn't saying much.
The people were screaming and swearing at him, their eyes filled with pure terror as they swarmed out of the bar, but he continued to shoulder his way through them, thinking that the Sum 41 song blaring from inside seemed to match the scene perfectly.
"About fucking time," he swore, unexpectedly breaking through the press of bodies and stumbling into the bar.
"Sweet Jesus," he gasped, suddenly wishing that he were still outside.
The Hot Spot was a split-level building, with two bars, both on either side of a dance floor, which dropped down five feet, accessible by four different sets of stairs, located at either end of each bar. The dance floor wasn't readily visible from his vantage point, but from what he saw of the bar that he was in, Skitt wasn't too sure if he wanted to see it.
Tables and chairs were smashed or tossed about, very few of them left intact, and a number of their pieces protruding through various…pieces…of bodies that were scattered about.
Heads…torsos…limbs…the bar was littered with them.
There was a sudden gagging sound from behind him and Skitt twirled around, his gun at the ready, barely checking his fire as he saw that a couple of uniforms had finally arrived, and that one of them was puking in the corner.
"Where's all the blood?" asked the other office, his shaky voice matching his paled face.
Skitt turned back around, his eyes rapidly scanning the entire bar, and his mouth moved in a silent "what the fuck?" as he noted that there was barely a drop of blood to be seen any where.
The hard rock song, which had been thundering with enough bass to shake their bones, suddenly stopped, and the silence seemed to wash over them like a palatable substance.
"Do you hear…" started the pale officer, trailing off as Skitt held up a silencing hand.
Even with the other officer still grunting out dry-heaves, they could hear the sound drifting out to them, seeming to come from around the corner that blocked most of their view of the dance floor.
It was a sound that made Skitt think of the time he had seen a Pitt Bull take down another dog, back when he had been a rookie, out on a domestic call between two neighbors.
Skitt glanced back at the officer that was still holding it together, and nodded as he motioned for the man to draw his weapon. The officer was obviously shaken, but he did as he was instructed, pulling his own gun and slowly nodding.
Moving cautiously, desperate not to make the slightest sound, Skitt edged up to the first set of stairs and peered around the corner, his heart seeming to halt in mid-beat as he saw what was making the sound.
At least a dozen more bodies were spread out on the dance floor, mostly intact, and centered around a man that was down on his knees, with his back to the detective. From the motions of the man's head, the spastic shaking of the body that he held, and sounds coming from them both, Skitt could tell that the man was actually eating the body.
Christ, it's a fucking rogue! Thought Skitt, knowing instantly that the man was not a man.
Skitt's heart, which had started beating once more, again felt as if it paused as the rogue suddenly stopped what he was doing, his head raising as if he sensed that he was no longer alone. The rogue sniffed at the air few times, and then, as if unconcerned, turned back to tearing into the body that he held.
Backing up slowly, Skitt leaned against the wall, his heart pounding in his ears as he tried to decide what to do. He knew that there was no way that they could take this guy out, even if the other officer somehow managed to compose himself.
"What is it?" whispered the pale cop, his voice still quivering.
"A rogue," answered Skitt, after pausing, wondering if the cop would be able to handle the truth.
The cop's eyes went wide with terror.
"Keep your shit together," hissed Skitt, then, motioning towards the doors, said, "We've got to keep this bastard in here."
"Are you fucking crazy?" demanded the cop, his voice seeming like a scream in the silence.
Skitt's hand flew to the man's mouth, clamping over it, and he pressed the barrel of his gun to the man's chin.
"Shut your fucking mouth," swore Skitt, through clenched teeth. "I'll blow your fucking head off myself. Do you fucking understand me?"
The cop nodded frantically, his eyes even wider than before, and Skitt lowered his hand.
Drawing in a deep breath, Skitt risked a quick glance around the corner again, and felt a rush of relief when he saw that the rogue was still feasting on the bodies of those it had felled on the dance floor.
Skitt nodded towards the doors and nudged the officer on, pausing only to grab the other officer by the shoulder and heft him up off his knees, pushing him towards the door also.
Once they were outside, Skitt was thankful that no one had hung around to witness what in the hell was going on, the street totally empty except for the police cruiser and his own car.
"I don't even know why I took this fucking call," he muttered, sprinting to his vehicle and grabbing up his radio. "Dispatch, this is unit three, responding to that disturbance call at Twenty-One North Ridge."
"Go a head, unit three," squawked the voice of the dispatcher.
"We've got a rogue here. Repeat, we've got a rogue here. Requesting the PES."
"Negative, unit three. PES is currently on assignment. Estimate at least one hour before they are available."
"We don't have a fucking hour!" yelled Skitt.
"Affirmative, unit three," replied the dispatcher, ignoring Skitt's outburst. "Stand by."
Skitt bit his lip, eyeing the entrance of the bar with trepidation, certain that the rogue would come bursting through the doors at any moment, adding the two cops and himself to its meal for the evening.
There was a soft fluttering sound from behind him, and Skitt spun around, pulling his gun as he did, startled to see a man and woman standing behind him.
"Is there a problem here, officer?" asked the man.
The man was wearing leather loafers, dress slacks, a red silk shirt, and was sporting five hundred-dollar sunglasses. He looked like he should be at one of the high-dollar nightclubs rather than standing outside of a rave that had seen better days in the previous decade.
The woman was dressed similarly, with a blue, silk halter-top and matching sunglasses, her complexion, and what he could see of her face, indicating that she was Asian in descent.
There was no mistaking what they were, Skitt could feel the power radiating from them, and it made him feel almost insignificant.
"You bet your ass there's a problem," growled Skitt, not attempting to hide his distaste in the least. "One of your fucking kind is in there, surrounded by bodies, and acting like he's at a fucking smorgasbord."
"Let us leave, Antel," said the woman, her voice sounding bored. "This human obviously has no liking for our kind."
"No, wait!" Skitt yelled, grabbing the man by the arm.
The man looked down at the hand on his forearm, and Skitt quickly pulled it away, looking fearful.
"If you can do something, then please…"
"Rain?" inquired the man of his partner.
Rain lowered her head, looking at Skitt over the top of her sunglasses, and he could see her disdain for him in her eyes.
"It'll look a lot better in the press if you guys handle this," pleaded Skitt.
"And what will it mean to you?" asked Rain, still staring at Skitt.
"To me?" wondered Skitt. "Well, I guess it might make me rethink my opinion of…"
"Our kind?" finished Rain.
Skitt nodded, embarrassed.
"Very well," she agreed.
Grunting in amusement, Antel lumbered towards the entrance, followed by Rain, both of them moving at such a leisurely pace as to appear human.
Swearing, not really trusting the two, Skitt ran to the rear of his car and opened the trunk, quickly removing the shotgun that he stored there, loaded with silver buck-shot. It wouldn't kill one of them, but it sure as hell would slow them down, and that was the best he could hope for.
Trotting after the two, Skitt ordered the two cops to move his car up so that it would be blocking the door. Before either one of them could reply, he had disappeared back into the nightclub.
Skitt was amazed that the two were already out of sight, and he ran to the stairs that led down onto the dance floor, halting as he saw that the two were standing behind the rogue. Skitt gasped as the rogue was suddenly on its feet and facing the two, not having seen it move in the least, and he suddenly knew just how ineffectual the shotgun would be.
The rogue glared at the two warily, his face coated with blood and bits of flesh, then he smiled at them with blood-smeared teeth.
"This is not our way," spoke Antel, sounding like an adult scolding a misbehaved child.
The rogue chuckled, and picked up one of the corpses that had been lying on the dance floor.
"We have a pact with the humans, now," said Rain, sounding as if she were trying to reason with the rogue.
With an effortless twist, the rogue ripped the head from the corpse and let the body fall to the floor. Still smiling he, held the head up and let the blood flow into his mouth, his inches long tongue lapping at the torn flesh.
"He's young," said Antel.
"I think he's mad," added Rain.
"Just fucking take him out!" shouted Skitt, his nerves stretched taut, his mind still reeling from what he was witnessing.
The rogue snarled and leapt at the detective, but as fast as he was, he was not faster than Antel.
Grunting as he slammed to the ground, the rogue twisted about to see than Antel had latched onto his leg and halted his momentum. Snarling with rage, the rogue jerked his foot free and twisted about to launch himself at Antel, but Rain was there to back him up.
With a hand that now sported razor sharp talons, Rain slashed out and neatly severed the head of the rogue.
The head tumble through the air as the body smashed to the ground.
"I thought you guys turned to dust when you got killed," said Skitt, slowly walking down the stairs, still wary of the rogue, though he was obviously dead.
"He was too young," said Antel, taking off his sunglasses and smiling at Skitt. "Less than a week old."
"The turning was either too much for him, or he was crazy to begin with," added Rain, removing her own sunglasses.
Skitt suddenly felt very nervous about the two.
"Did we manage to change your mind about our race?" asked Rain, slowly walking towards Skitt. His hesitation was answer enough for her, and she frowned at him.
"People like you are what make this peace so fragile," said Antel, his voice tinged with anger.
"And the world will be better off with out you," said Rain, instantly on Skitt, bending him backwards as her teeth tore into his throat.
Rain drank from Skitt until his heart was nearly done beating, then, as she licked the blood from her lips, she handed him over to Antel.
When he was finished, Antel let Skitt's body drop to the floor with the others, smiling a wicked smile at Rain.
"The poor detective," whined Rain, mockingly. "He tried so valiantly to stop the rogue, but he should have let us deal with him."
"A little man with a little mind," chastised Antel. Then, smiling, he said, "Come, let us go tell his companions how bravely he died."