|tom mcnair (tommcnair) wrote in hellascenes,|
@ 2013-09-28 03:55:00
|Entry tags:||angel, tom mcnair|
Who: Tom McNair & Angel
What: More vampires?
Where: Exploring LA
So, they were stuck in Hell, or some strange American version of it. After Barry it took a lot of getting used to, though Tom wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to get used to hell at all; not really. At least Hal was here, and he wasn't even on the blood, which was good cause he didn't like the idea of having to kill his best friend, even though he would if he had to. Hopefully it wouldn't be an issue, but seeing as how there were all kinds of temptations around the city he'd have to keep a beady eye out, just in case.
Tom had wandered into a built up area of the city, far away from the bright lights and the ladies with inappropriate dresses on, and for the first time since he'd arrived he felt almost relaxed. He didn't like it when there were too many people around, not to mention everything smelled funny and wrong. He hadn't seen any grass since he'd arrived, which made him uneasy because what where would he go when the full moon arrived? It wasn't like he could tie a chicken on a bit of string and drag it around the streets here and hope to avoid killing people! They were everywhere. The door to his room wasn't even nearly sturdy enough to attempt to lock himself in either, and as he paced the back-streets Tom became increasingly nervous. He'd spent so long in control of his urges that it had never occurred to him that he might actually go on a killing spree - that was more Hal's territory - and now that he had it scared the living daylights out of him.
Suddenly a scent hit him. One Tom had known his entire life, and his hackles rose immediately. Somewhere behind him was a vampire. He stopped dead, his hand reaching into his coat and wrapping his fingers around one of the stakes he kept there. "Don't come a step closer," he warned, his voice a menacing mix of threat and certainty. He'd spent his life prepared for moments like this, and the necklace at his throat - made up of the fangs of every vampire he'd killed - felt like a lucky charm. Hal and Alex might not approve of the thing, but McNair would have loved him for his dedication to the cause. Now there might be one more set of teeth to add to his collection. He took a steadying breath and turned to face the creature behind him. "Don't think I won't use it. I know how," Tom told the figure in the shadows.