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Jan. 4th, 2007 03:22 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
darkravenette.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fksqueeIt's been a while since I could sit and write, but I have the next chapter available of my story. Since it's been eras since my last post, http://community.livejournal.com/fk_fanfiction/7467.html#cutid1 is where you can find the first three chapters for a refresher.
Title: War, chapter 4/?
Rating: Strong PG-13, maybe a possible R
Pairings: None, really.
Author's note: The time frame is third season, before "Fever." I've recently discovered that Screed is a hoot to write. Additionally, the story will eventually become AU. I have many devious things planned. Bwahahaha. Feel free to comment or send bountiful amounts of chocolate.
The sign by the Raven's doors read "Closed for Private Party." Nick nodded to the bouncers at the door as he pushed past the placard and made his way inside. The sea of bodies that greeted him came at no surprise. Every vampire in the area was expected to attend at LaCroix's insistence; word spread that the penalty for not showing up would be "extreme pain and probable death." The elder vampire wanted the responsible party ousted by the morning's dawn, before his or her damage became irreparable.
The dance floor, usually alive with writhing bodies, was now covered with men and women pressed close together for a new reason. Everyone stood, whispering amongst themselves, waiting for LaCroix to make his presence known and start the meeting. Nick could feel the tension in the room. Never in his memory had he seen so many nervous vampires. These creatures, so used to being top predators and instilling fear in their prey, were unaccustomed to feeling terror themselves, and it did not suit them. They stood rigid with shifting eyes, as if a twig snapping would make them all scream bloody murder.
As he gazed over the assembly, Nick noticed Vachon lurking in the back of the room and started to make his way through the throng to join the Spaniard. As he grew closer, he noticed the younger vampire was not alone. His usual companions, Urs and Screed, stood on either side of him. The crowd seemed to be avoiding the carouche, giving him the most standing room available to anyone in the club, but Screed still looked uncomfortable.
"'Snot right, whole big crowd. Chap like me's not s'posed to be 'ere. No, sir'e." The carouche nervously fidgeted with his cap then caught sight of Nick heading their way. "'Ey, Dicky Nick, tell ol' Javier 'ere 'salright for me to be heading on me merry way."
"Lucien wanted the whole Community here, Screed," Urs interjected. "That includes you, so you had better deal with it."
When she faced Nick for approval, he nodded then turned to Vachon. "How's the arm?"
"Not too bad now." The younger vampire lifted his arm, and Nick noticed the protruding bone had receded and only a large red spot remained. "It hurt like hell to get the bone set though."
Screed chuckled. "Betcha they heard him screamin' right back in Vancouver." Nick allowed himself a small smile at the carouche's comment, but the sudden silence of the room sobered him immediately.
LaCroix had made his entrance.
Nick joined the crowd in watching the oldest vampire of the Toronto Community make his way toward the bar. LaCroix took to the countertop with an effortless leap and turned on his makeshift stage to face the crowd. He was dressed, as always, entirely in black -- his suit was impeccable to even the most concerning eye. His pale skin and platinum hair stood out in stark contrast, making it difficult to focus on anything else. His face was expressionless as his eyes passed over the assembled masses below him. To the group, he appeared to be the personification of calm.
But Nick knew better. Through his link with his master, he could feel LaCroix's anger. The situation was entirely out of hand, and LaCroix was furious that chaos was reigning in city. Only those close to the ancient Roman would know exactly how on edge he truly was. A tempest of emotion raged behind the calm mask, and heaven help the vampire who tried to challenge LaCroix tonight.
"This ends tonight," the elder started. Small murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd. "Someone among us is willingly and deliberately attempting to expose us, and this will. not. do. Our very survival has always depended on our ability to hide as wolves among the sheep. You do want to know what will happen if the mortals begin to suspect their fictional horror stories are anything but just that." LaCroix clasped his hands behind his back, as close to a nervous fidget Nick had ever seen his sire make. "If anyone has any inkling of who might be responsible, I encourage you to step forward. The events of this last week have made international news, and this is exposure the Community does not need. If we do not stop this now, soon hunters will begin to appear in the city. That is, if the Enforcers do not get here first."
A loud laugh by the door stopped LaCroix before his next sentence. Every eye in the room turned toward the sound, and Nick heard a sharp gasp come from Vachon. Standing just inside the room was a vampire Nick had never seen. The newcomer's chiseled features would cause envy in any Hollywood actor. His black hair was slicked back, revealing slight graying around the temples, and dark eyes shimmered from under well-kept brows. The man's charcoal suit fit perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. A petite blonde in a slinky black dress stood by his side, linked arm in arm. A smile played on her ruby-painted lips but failed to reach her eyes.
Nick felt a sharp jab in his ribs and turned to face Vachon. "That's them," the Spaniard hissed under his breath.
The crowd parted as the strangers took a few steps forward. "You have always been so dramatic, Lucius. Maybe you should have been an actor in the Emperor's theater troupe, rather than a general in his army." The man patted his escort's hand, disengaged her from his arm, and then mimicked LaCroix's ascent onto the bartop. He came to a halt barely a foot from where LaCroix stood. "Wouldn't that have been a sight to see?"
With everyone’s attention on the newcomers, only Nick noticed his master’s reaction – a small retreating step backwards and a flicker of emotion that could have only one translation: fear.
Title: War, chapter 4/?
Rating: Strong PG-13, maybe a possible R
Pairings: None, really.
Author's note: The time frame is third season, before "Fever." I've recently discovered that Screed is a hoot to write. Additionally, the story will eventually become AU. I have many devious things planned. Bwahahaha. Feel free to comment or send bountiful amounts of chocolate.
The sign by the Raven's doors read "Closed for Private Party." Nick nodded to the bouncers at the door as he pushed past the placard and made his way inside. The sea of bodies that greeted him came at no surprise. Every vampire in the area was expected to attend at LaCroix's insistence; word spread that the penalty for not showing up would be "extreme pain and probable death." The elder vampire wanted the responsible party ousted by the morning's dawn, before his or her damage became irreparable.
The dance floor, usually alive with writhing bodies, was now covered with men and women pressed close together for a new reason. Everyone stood, whispering amongst themselves, waiting for LaCroix to make his presence known and start the meeting. Nick could feel the tension in the room. Never in his memory had he seen so many nervous vampires. These creatures, so used to being top predators and instilling fear in their prey, were unaccustomed to feeling terror themselves, and it did not suit them. They stood rigid with shifting eyes, as if a twig snapping would make them all scream bloody murder.
As he gazed over the assembly, Nick noticed Vachon lurking in the back of the room and started to make his way through the throng to join the Spaniard. As he grew closer, he noticed the younger vampire was not alone. His usual companions, Urs and Screed, stood on either side of him. The crowd seemed to be avoiding the carouche, giving him the most standing room available to anyone in the club, but Screed still looked uncomfortable.
"'Snot right, whole big crowd. Chap like me's not s'posed to be 'ere. No, sir'e." The carouche nervously fidgeted with his cap then caught sight of Nick heading their way. "'Ey, Dicky Nick, tell ol' Javier 'ere 'salright for me to be heading on me merry way."
"Lucien wanted the whole Community here, Screed," Urs interjected. "That includes you, so you had better deal with it."
When she faced Nick for approval, he nodded then turned to Vachon. "How's the arm?"
"Not too bad now." The younger vampire lifted his arm, and Nick noticed the protruding bone had receded and only a large red spot remained. "It hurt like hell to get the bone set though."
Screed chuckled. "Betcha they heard him screamin' right back in Vancouver." Nick allowed himself a small smile at the carouche's comment, but the sudden silence of the room sobered him immediately.
LaCroix had made his entrance.
Nick joined the crowd in watching the oldest vampire of the Toronto Community make his way toward the bar. LaCroix took to the countertop with an effortless leap and turned on his makeshift stage to face the crowd. He was dressed, as always, entirely in black -- his suit was impeccable to even the most concerning eye. His pale skin and platinum hair stood out in stark contrast, making it difficult to focus on anything else. His face was expressionless as his eyes passed over the assembled masses below him. To the group, he appeared to be the personification of calm.
But Nick knew better. Through his link with his master, he could feel LaCroix's anger. The situation was entirely out of hand, and LaCroix was furious that chaos was reigning in
"This ends tonight," the elder started. Small murmurs of agreement rose from the crowd. "Someone among us is willingly and deliberately attempting to expose us, and this will. not. do. Our very survival has always depended on our ability to hide as wolves among the sheep. You do
A loud laugh by the door stopped LaCroix before his next sentence. Every eye in the room turned toward the sound, and Nick heard a sharp gasp come from Vachon. Standing just inside the room was a vampire Nick had never seen. The newcomer's chiseled features would cause envy in any Hollywood actor. His black hair was slicked back, revealing slight graying around the temples, and dark eyes shimmered from under well-kept brows. The man's charcoal suit fit perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist. A petite blonde in a slinky black dress stood by his side, linked arm in arm. A smile played on her ruby-painted lips but failed to reach her eyes.
Nick felt a sharp jab in his ribs and turned to face Vachon. "That's them," the Spaniard hissed under his breath.
The crowd parted as the strangers took a few steps forward. "You have always been so dramatic, Lucius. Maybe you should have been an actor in the Emperor's theater troupe, rather than a general in his army." The man patted his escort's hand, disengaged her from his arm, and then mimicked LaCroix's ascent onto the bartop. He came to a halt barely a foot from where LaCroix stood. "Wouldn't that have been a sight to see?"
With everyone’s attention on the newcomers, only Nick noticed his master’s reaction – a small retreating step backwards and a flicker of emotion that could have only one translation: fear.
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