Happy New Year
Don’t let them tell you hell is hot. Hell is a lot of things. Currently, it’s nothing at all.
Marco races along paths that don’t exist, his feet pounding against nothing. His lungs burn with hard breaths of empty air. His muscles burn with the strain of pushing through nothing. His mind burns with the strain of willing himself into existence.
The nothing threatens to swallow him whole.
tyrianterror asked: Enamor me, Supermorphs Ratmance
Rachel wakes up to pink.
She stumbles into the kitchen, blinking blearily. The whole interior of the RV has been plastered with pink—the paneling, the walls, the floors, the countertops, even the windows are now rose-tinted. She squints, wondering if something’s wrong with her eyes, but no, she’s pretty sure everything is just pink.
There’s a large, lumpy package on the table, wrapped in—what else?—pink. She prods at it suspiciously, and when it fails to explode she shrugs and tears open the paper.
Inside is an array of brand-new weapons. A set of silver knives; an aluminum baseball bat; two pistols and a shotgun, already retrofitted for salt, iron and silver—and that’s just the beginning. She lets out a low whistle.
"Glad you like it."
She spins. “You!” she snarls.
"Me!" David mocks. She reaches behind her and brings up the baseball bat, and he rolls his eyes. "I’m glad you’re finding a use for my little present, anyway," he says. "Did you know that St. Valentine was beaten before being beheaded? So it’s only fitting, really."
She looks at the bat in bewilderment. “You did this?”
He raises his arms to encompass the pink decor. “Of course! Valentine’s Day is one of my favorite holidays, you know. So many lonely people, out wandering the bars and the streets … It’s a good day for business.” He grins at the revulsion on her face. “Speaking of, must dash. Enjoy!” He vanishes, only to reappear a second later to peck her on the cheek. He’s gone again before she can react, and she’s left alone in a pink kitchen, holding a baseball bat.
Marco stumbles out into the kitchen a moment later, stifling a yawn. “I know you’re helplessly in love with me, Rachel, but you shouldn’t have. How did you know I was in the mood for pink today?” He paused. “Uh, why are you holding a baseball bat?”
"Why shouldn’t I be holding a baseball bat?" She put the bat down with the other weapons and reached for the coffee. It was going to be a long day.
tyrianterror asked: I knew you wouldn't hold out for long. Get Me, Supermorphs Ratmance, David saving her.
She kills four of them before they get her.
She ends up on the floor, ribs broken, ankle broken, shoulder dislocated. She came in with three vials of dead man’s blood: all smashed. Her machete is twenty feet away, and one of the two remaining vampires steps between her and it. The other is behind her, out of sight, but she knows if she makes a move he’ll be on her in an instant. She can hear his footsteps, boots on concrete, while his fellow advances towards her with quieter steps.
She raises her chin defiantly to the one in front, baring her throat, and she can see the hunger flaring in the woman’s eyes. She’s a new one, the whole nest had been.
"So which of you is it going to be?" Rachel says. The woman’s gaze flickers.
"We’ll share her," the woman says. "But the kill is mine."
The man tries to argue. “I want—” But he finds his feet kicked out from under him and falls back heavily into the pool of dead man’s blood and broken glass. Shrieking, he rolls to one side, swatting at his clothes like they’re on fire. Rachel jumps to her feet but stumbles on her broken ankle, and the other vampire’s hand is around her throat before she can recover.
"That was a dirty trick," the vampire growls. "But you killed Catherine, and that makes you mine.”
Rachel opens her mouth to respond and finds she doesn’t need to, as the vampire’s head goes rolling across the floor. She scowls.
"I had it under control."
"I’m sure you did, darling." David shoulders the machete and sidles over to the one remaining vampire, whose arms and face are red and blistered.
"You’re going to pay for—" His head falls to the ground with a thump, the rest of his body not far behind.
"Yeah, yeah." David rolls his eyes in Rachel’s direction. "I see why you like it, Rach," he says conversationally, running a finger down the bloody flat of the blade. "It’s a bit of a rush, isn’t it?"
"Why are you here, David?"
"Well, I couldn’t let someone else break my favorite toy, could I?" He smiles.
Before she can respond, the door slams open and Jake, Marco, and Cassie pour in, machetes and dead man’s blood in hand. When she turns back, David is gone.