Brian Campo (briancampo) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-10-10 19:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | brian campo, ~merrick |
Underlings
Who: Brian and Merrick
What: Introduction
When: Present, Evening
Where: The Dispensary Lounge, Las Vegas
Rating: Low (Some Language)
The Dispensary Lounge was part of old Vegas, a windowless bar with swinging doors, shag carpet, a water wheel, and dim lighting. It felt more seventies-era saloon than lounge, though it comfortably served as the latter with cozy seating, great food, and some of the area’s best jazz musicians on a curated entertainment calendar.
For Brian it was a guilty pleasure, because not a lot of people expected to see a musician who spent most of his time at rock shows listening to Uli Geissendoerfer play the piano on Tropicana. It reminded him of living on the east coast, when he’d taken trips into New York with his music teacher as a kid. Mrs. K used to say she wanted to make sure Brian was exposed to the great pianists, even if he was determined to make noise. Once he grew up, he’d pick her up and take her into the city when she wasn’t legally allowed to drive anymore. She passed away while he was living in the mountains, about a year after he got bitten. The news had hit him like a load of bricks.
A few years down the line, he could think about it and it didn’t suck, but he’d go by himself anyway, pick a table, and leave a chair or two open in case Mrs. K was around in spirit. Weirder things had happened.
Merrick had to admit the decor of the Lounge was a bit peculiar to him since he had spent the seventies in the small clay vessel he had been bound to many centuries ago. But he came for the music, relaxed atmosphere, people-watching, and the drinks.
Today he had entered the establishment wearing a three-piece suit with complimentary shades of violet. He was in that mood. Merrick sighed as he moved about and signaled to someone for his usual drink and then he caught sight of Brian. Interesting. Instead of being too abrupt, the djinn took a seat at a nearby table and kept an eye on the interesting fellow.
The more casually dressed of the two sat at a four-top table in a button-down shirt and jeans. His sleeves were rolled above leather cords on his wrists, forearms resting on the rough-hewn table. Brian’s whole body leaned toward the stage, engaging with it, his eyes taking in each of the musicians on stage in turn, fingertips drumming a light rhythm on the table. Underneath it, his foot bounced along with the time signature. The band finished a tune with a flourish of percussion and he clapped along with the rest of the audience.
Brian picked up his glass and checked his surroundings. He noticed the guy with the suit at the next table over. They made eye contact in the lounge and Brian got a feeling he was late to the party on it. He nodded, a nonverbal ‘What’s up, man.’ The suit struck him; it was kind of classing up the joint. Maybe he was coming in late from a business meeting. As the applause faded, he called over, “You a big fan of this guy?” He figured it made sense to make conversation.
The djinn had noticed the other man’s casual dress, those arms and leather cords. Very handsome. But he politely turned his attention to the music, listening more than watching. Jazz had changed and yet stayed the same since he had last heard it. He could tell that Brian was a music enthusiast.
Merrick’s glass of whiskey on the rocks had arrived during the music and he sipped it gingerly, wanting to savor the taste. Then he grinned softly at the other man as they made eye contact. He nodded in return.”Mmm?” The djinn hummed. “More of his music than the man himself.”
“No?” Brian called over, his forehead creasing. “I’ve got his autograph on my chest.” He started to mess with his shirt button, then shook his head. “I’m kidding, I don’t.” The werewolf raised his index finger in a loose gesture. “He’s Grammy nominated, but he’s also a professor over at UNLV. If I knew professors were that cool, I would’ve gone to college.” He shrugged, a what-can-you-do expression on his face.
He tipped the contents of his drink into his mouth, then studied the bottom of the glass. The liquor here was an upgrade on what they poured at Lucky’s. The container was placed on the center of the table.
Merrick’s grin deepened at Brian’s kidding. “Is he now? A professor. That is something.” The djinn nodded and took another sip.
“Pardon any perceived disrespect, you are one to not subscribe to the jazz scene, yes?” Merrick asked as he sat his drink down.
Brian glanced at himself. The jeans and tattoos were probably a clue that he wasn’t the lounge type. He shrugged. “I like anybody who’s good at what they do,” Brian called across the distance. “Jazz, it’s great, but I’m really into piano. I grew up playing, listening to the greats. Brahms, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Monk, Ellington, but I kinda blew it off to be a rock star.” He reached up and messed with the back of his hair. “And by star, I mean the stick-on kind. Very modest success.”
He looked at the other man’s table. “Mind if I..?” If they were going to strike up a conversation, it made more sense to consolidate than talk over the performance.
The djinn loved piano. But he had not found an opportunity to learn it himself. He could sing, but only enough to appease. “But you did pursue it.”
Nodding, Merrick agreed. It would be better for the other man to join him at his tab. “Welcome.” He added and sat his glass to one side for a possible second.
“True. Just veered off the original plan.” The werewolf took his empty glass over and kicked back in the available chair. “I’m Brian,” he said, offering a hand. Up close, with his hand mid-air, he suddenly realized the other man didn’t smell human, but he couldn’t pick up anything recognizable, either. That was unexpected. It didn’t change his approach, but it made his head cock almost imperceptibly and his eyes focused on his companion with new interest, like being in a group of strangers and picking up a hint that one of them was sympatico.
“I can definitely relate. I’m Merrick.” The djinn replied and took the other man’s hand, shaking it with a moderate grip before release. He wasn’t sure if supernatural beings could detect what he was or just that he wasn’t ‘normal’. There were always those who traced djinn about in history, looking for one for the wishes.
“ That’s a cool name. I’m trying to figure out where I’ve heard it before.” Brian searched the table and tried to come up with something. “It was Deadwood,” he remembered. A server came by and asked if they’d like refills on their drinks. Brian said yes and explained that he moved tables before going back to the conversation. “Anyway, it’s a lot more interesting than Brian. If I told you why my parents picked the name Brian, you’d be horrified. Actually now that I’ve broached the subject, I’m horrified because I might actually have to tell you and it’s my fault.”
“Thank you.” Merrick nodded. “Oh?” He hadn’t seen the television series despite having ample time in his master’s residence to watch television. The djinn responded ‘yes’ as well for a refill. “You don’t have to tell me. Tell me more about your musical exploits.”
Brian nodded. “That’s safer. I’m in a band, we fall somewhere between post punk and progressive. I play keyboard and guitar. Back in Jersey, I was in a different band. We were this close to a record deal, but some shit went down and I had to quit. That was the veering I was talking about. Which you,” he pointed at Merrick, “Said you could relate to. What’d you mean?” The werewolf looked up as a refill on his drink arrived. He thanked the server and took a sip.
“Mmm, it may be a little less similar on my side. But I’ve not stayed in one place for more than about a few years. And usually it was not my doing.” Merrick spoke gently and then took his drink from the server. “Thank you,” he whispered to them and turned his attention back to Brian. “Before I came here I was on the east coast.”
“What do you mean, it wasn’t your doing?” Brian cocked his head in interest bordering on concern. The wording was interesting. Merrick hadn’t said ‘it wasn’t my choice’, like he’d expect to hear if Merrick’s work transferred him around, or he had to relocate for a relationship. Something typical. ‘Not my doing’ almost sounded like a forced situation. He found himself paying closer attention to his tablemate in the suit. “I don’t wanna push if it’s gonna make you feel weird. I just noticed you’re… kinda different.” He lifted his shoulders and left it at that. Brian set down his drink on a cocktail napkin.
“Oh, I’m way beyond ‘weird’,” Merrick smiled at Brian and downed another sip of whiskey. The rings on each finger lightly clinked against the glass. “Hmm. I take that as a compliment, Brian. Let’s just say..I am an underling.” The djinn sighed and drank the rest of his beverage. Would this possibly supernatural young man be someone to take a situation in his own hands?
“An underling?” Brian’s eyebrows raised. He watched the other man tip his head back. The melodic tinkle of metal on glass was an added layer to the overall sense of otherness about Merrick. “I don’t know what to say except that sucks. I don't know your story, but I’ve been in a situation, y’know, with other people like me,” he pointed to his chest, “Who wanted to put me on the bottom rung of a tall ladder. It’s not a good place to be. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to climb over them.”
Or didn’t do, Brian mentally corrected. But those weren’t stories he liked to tell. It was easier to slip into the persona his current life was letting him inhabit: Hapless pacifist.
“Yes. Tell me to do this, that, the other. It does. Maybe someday I will climb over my current overling.” Merrick sat the glass down on the time and sighed. “And that makes you a survivor. I’m biding my time. Nothing lasts forever.” The djinn often caught himself from saying too much.
Thankfully, his current master had agreed to let him move about Las Vegas and Searchlight. Pacing at the windows of the apartment would get boring and annoying.
Brian took a drink, then he leaned back in his hard chair, the bottom of his glass slowly turning on the table as he studied Merrick. He caught himself wishing he was better-versed in supernatural lore. This guy was… something. He couldn’t put his finger on the nature of his scent, except knowing it wasn’t familiar. He didn’t run into people too often that were complete mysteries. Merrick’s answers were so vague, he could’ve been talking about the world’s worst boss.
The word that stuck out to Brian most was ‘current’, like it wasn’t the first time he’d been at somebody’s mercy. “You make a deal with the devil or something?” he asked.
Merrick could tell Brian was studying him. History was repeating in rhymes. And the djinn had an idea either Brian was someone who had heightened senses or was looking for a djinn. He was touching on parts of what he said. But in many more cases than not, one would knew what Merrick was and ended up in danger.
The djinn laughed and leaned back in his chair. A full, almost belly laugh that had him clutching an imaginary string of pearls at his throat. “No, no. If I did, it certainly would not be for what I have now.”
“Wow. Now that is a reaction,” Brian said with a dip of his head. He found himself smiling in return. “Alright so, what would you make a deal for? If you found yourself opposite some crossroads demon with a flaming pen and a thick scroll.” He reached up and rubbed one of his elbows, thinking about it for the first time. “Shit. What would I make a deal for?” An idea occurred to him and he frowned. “Ooooh. I didn’t like that. My subconscious is way too honest with me. You first.”
Merrick grinned as he watched Brian. “Really? Those things. Mmm.” He spoke, his eyes twinkling a little. “Doesn’t a deal with a demon come with a price?”
“Ah, just your soul.” Brian waved his hand. “Or your voice, if the Little Mermaid is accurate.” He tossed back the last gulp of his drink. Three glasses in, he was starting to feel loose around the edges.
In all honesty, it would have been Merrick as the one making deals and taking souls. Being a djinn was very similar aside from the cost of one’s soul part. He shook his head. “Mmm. I doubt anything good would come of any deal I would make. So I’ll pass. How about you?
“I think… I’d go back in time and undo something I did when I was angry,” Brian admitted. “I brought myself low to get revenge on somebody, and that’s not true to who I was, or who I wish I was. But it’s not the kind of thing I can undo without knocking over a thousand dominos, so.” Brian raised a hand in defeat. “Besides, I don’t really believe in do-overs. Why would anybody bother being decent in the first place?”
Merrick raised an eyebrow as Brian spoke, especially at the question at the end. “Time-travel. I have thought about those what-ifs. If only you could prevent that first domino falling.” He sighed and shrugged a little. If only the djinn had kept those boys from trapping him, making him a slave to grant three wishes before being imprisoned in a vessel to wait for the next master or mistress. “It sounds like few people have been decent towards you.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. Just one really extended run,” Brian said, cruising his hand through the air. “And they were equal opportunity assholes. I’m lucky, I’ve had some good people, too.” He considered Merrick. “You, um… You have good people, the ones who aren’t overlings?”
“I see,” Merrick sighed and ran a finger along the rim of his empty. Glass. “Mmm, perhaps. The last good person I had sadly,” the djinn began and paused for a moment. Then he continued as if he hadn’t drifted, “They’re gone.” He smiled, masking the sadness that still lingered since his current master awakened him from a slumber that began in the 1940s.
It didn’t take an empath to see that kind of loneliness. Brian gave it a minute to breathe, then he nodded. “I’m sorry.” He pushed up his sleeves, getting the tight fabric out of the crooks of his arms. After a moment of silence passed between them, he said, “I got a girl. I don’t know what I’d do if something bad happened to her.” He raised his shoulders, frowned. “If it didn’t work out between us, I could deal with that, long as she was okay. Y’know? I’ll always have her back. But if something took her? It’d be a scorched earth situation, and that’s just assuming it was something I could punch.”
The djinn nodded, staying silent as he concentrated on how Brian pushed up his sleeves. Taking in details often calmed Merrick. Then he met the other man’s eyes as he began to speak again. “We are of like mind. If I could have done something to help that individual I…had, I would have. But situation as it is, I cannot.” Merrick gestured for another drink and soon a fresh glass of whiskey was brought to him.
Brian knew he was too free with giving out his information, but what Brianna said at le Breeze was right about him: he was the one who whipped out the paper and pen at big meetings and starting jotting down contact info. He was the guy group-texting about monsters running down Main Street in case one of his acquaintances didn’t know about it. “Y’know, half of being able to help people, or ask for help from people,” he amended, “Is knowing where to find them. So even though I haven’t figured out your deal, not for lack of trying, I’m gonna tell you that I live down in Searchlight and I work at a place called Lucky’s. One thing I’ve figured out about Nevada is it pays to know people when things go ballistic.”
Merrick often kept his information close to his vest. Many people had gotten themselves in dire straits or even dead when they found out what the djinn was. A powerful being such as himself and the enslavement and servitude, and oh yes the ‘three wishes’ was tempting. “I agree. I currently stay in an apartment here in Vegas. I thank you for listening and allowing me to know where you reside and work.” His old-timer notes were ringing. “I appreciate your offer of help.”
“Sure,” Brian said agreeably. He would’ve offered his cell phone but Merrick was clearly cautious. “I meant it, if you need something, just call Lucky’s and ask for me. And it’s not just me. I know some good people with a unique set of skills. But I’m starting to sound like knock-off Liam Neeson, so I’m gonna head back to my table,” he smiled and pointed at it, “And actually let you listen to this band.” The werewolf picked up his glass to take with him. “It was nice talking to you, Merrick.”