| Live, From Las Vegas! |
[18 Jun 2008|06:12pm] |
"How does my hair look? Do you think they used too much spray?"
"You look fine, Curtis." "I hate live segments. The lighting always makes me look orange. Maybe I should try a new bronzer."
The newscaster looked at his watch, adjusted the knot in his blue silk tie, then took one last look in the hand mirror he held. "All right, let's get this show on the road," he said, handing the object off to his assitant. "Is the old guy ready?"
"The old guy is ready," Markowitz said dryly, lowering his tall, thin frame into the chair opposite the younger man. "The old guy can also hear you." There was a muted snicker from one of the camera crew, and the newsman, whose name was Curtis Horton, turned a dull brick-red underneath his store bought tan. The two men looked at one another for a few moments, and then the federal agent took his sunglasses off, folded them up and put them away.
( Newsflash )
A second pause, just as dramatic, and the agent had to hand it to the kid, he knew how to give good interview. Then Horton turned to him, all attentive and inquiring.
"What about it, Josiah? What can you tell us about the documents you brought along?"
There was a slow pan of the camera, then a close-up on Markowitz's homely, earnest face. The agent took a deep breath. This was his fifteen minutes. He'd better make good use of them.
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| Sinners and Saints |
[18 Jun 2008|06:49pm] |
Rhiannon sat on the trunk of a stranger's car, twirling a stake between her fingers. It was dark outside, nearing 10pm, and she was waiting for Connor to meet her. The plan was to take a walk, maybe grab a coffee, and hash out their reactions to what was going on in the news. Vamps weren't around much. Apparently some were old enough to remember crowds with pitchforks, and had taken a subtler approach to hunting.
Not all humans had that kind of wisdom. In the wake of the biggest supernatural news since Roswell, families around the country did things like host board games nights or rent movies, remaining in the quiet safety of their homes. Of course, they kept an eye trained on the television set in case of breaking news. But in Vegas at least, people were out drinking and gambling like always. Rhiannon supposed some addictions were stronger than fear. People would always take their chances on a rough neighborhood just to get to a dealer, card or otherwise. Dimly she recalled that sort of feeling.
She brought her legs onto the trunk and folded them beneath her.
"Idiot." Connor seldom read the paper, but since the news had broken about the government's interest in the supernatural he'd been picking up the Beacon to keep track of any further articles. Currently he was at the tail end of Logan Guevara's final missive for the newspaper, and he wasn't happy about it. Leaning against a mailbox, the Destroyer read through the article again, then wadded the paper up in disgust and stuffed it into the closest garbage can. What a moron. It was instigators like that who caused riots.
He pushed off from the mailbox, then continued his trek. He had heard about the stand-down through street gossip, and he supposed that with the heat off it was only a matter of time before the feeding frenzy started again. He hadn't seen much trouble yet, but it felt like the whole city was a powder keg with a match dangling over it. All it would take was one spark and then BOOM.
He saw the Slayer across the street, seated on the trunk of a car, and he lifted a hand in a wave before crossing against traffic. "I think it's finally summer," he said to her, pulling his sweat-damp shirt away from his chest. "Seen anything moving tonight that shouldn't be?"
"Yeah. These." Rhiannon held up her stake and made a confused face. It had an orange price sticker on it. "They're selling for 4 bucks a pop at the Worthy Christian Book Store. Next to the bottles of holy water." She passed the merchandise to Connor. "Bad quality. Good luck getting it through the torso. Still. Why didn't I think of that? I could sell my whole collection and take a trip the Bahamas."
( What Ifs )
( Practice )
( Rumble in the Street )
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