Hannibal King (hail_king) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-03-09 21:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | abigail whistler, hannibal king, open |
Who: Hannibal King & Abigail Whistler
Where: The firehouse in bed.
Why: Everyone has nightmares.
What: Delving into the past via bad dreams
Status: In progress
Rating: R
*Crunch, Crunch, Crunch* A handful of popcorn disappeared into his mouth, his dark eyes peering through the end of the binoculars. On the other end of the night vision modified goggles the group of vampires glowed green.
“Can hear you chewin’ down here.” Came a deep voice in his ear piece. Hannibal swallowed his junk food and clicked a series of pictures with the evolved binoculars. Another handful of the salty snack was tossed into his mouth. Blade was watching from the ground, near his car, ready to follow as soon as they moved. “Why do you think they call it Cracker Jacks?” Hannibal asked as he chewed and swallowed the salty, sweet mix of popcorn, nuts and other crap, he jiggled the box and tossed it behind him when he realized it was empty. “Think you can make a run to the seven eleven down the street?”
“Who’s that shit stain?”Blade asked as a hulking blonde standing at least six feet five inches came through the door. He stopped; arms folded over his chest, and looked up and down the side street. Behind him more of the fang gang emerged from the club, letting the thundering music escape out the opened door.
“Dunno.” King scribbled, Shit stain??? , on the notepad sitting on the ground beside him. “How much do you think he weighs? Makes you look petite—“ Then again Hannibal was taller then his brooding partner. Just not as….dense.
“He ain’t that big.” Blade stated in a flat tone. They were of course looking at Jarko Grimwood, they didn’t know it then but that name would not pass between the two men until after King’s five year jaunt as a vampire.
A pint sized woman was hidden in the shadow of the hulking vampire. When she lit up a cigarette it made the green tones light up with a dim burst of light. The door to the car was opened for her by the vampire who had clearly maxxed out on steroids. “That’s her…..”
“Told you before….don’t like midgets. Creep me out.” He muttered as he took pictures of his target. Danica Talos.
**********************
“Why me?”
Hannibal was not amused by his role on this job. Bait. That never ended well. Not just bait. He was playing the part of a bitch. A familiar. Or he was going to try. Getting close so they could get to the bottom of what the up and coming vampire was doing when the sun was down. She wasn’t knitting baby blankets or rescuing kittens from the unsavory city streets.
“I have a reputation. They know me.”
King rolled his eyes as he tossed his legs up on the desk. His eyes roved over the file once again.
“And we aren’t killing them why?”
“Yet.”
Looking up from the papers at Blade he just raised a brow.
“We aren’t killing them yet.” Blade corrected.
Setting the file down he got up and went into the other room. A few minutes later he came back in the room tugging a shirt over his head. His hands smoothed down over the edge of the black slacks he wore. Blade looked him up and down giving a snort.
“Gonna wear that?”
King looked offended as he glanced down at his shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”
A big, dark hand reached out and dusted off the sleeve, sending the residue of a dead vampire to the ground. “Smells like a vampire wiped his ass with it. Then you staked him and wiped your ass with it.”
“Oh.” Hannibal rolled his eyes as he turned around, tugging the shirt off as he left the room. Apparently the duo needed a housekeeper. At least to do the laundry. Would have asked Strange but, well, that guy was weird and King figured he would put some sort of weirdo mojo on his boxer shorts.
“Try that black one you like so damn much.…” Yes. Blade, the Daywalker, just gave Hannibal King advice on what to wear.
It was the last conversation they would have as partners. Once Hannibal disappeared into the throngs of people at the club frequented by the queen beeotch herself, he wouldn’t reemerge for five years. When he did come back to the human side of the fight he would bring with him all the intel they needed to wipe the vampires from the face of the earth. Plus a few other tid - bits of knowledge that no one ever needed to hear about.
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King never got the chance to work as a familiar. Apparently she sent his application for employ straight to the top of the stack. He lit her cigarette for her, pretending the whole time he didn’t know who she was. Pretending that the fangs she didn’t even attempt to hide didn’t make him just the tiniest bit squeamish.
“Got a name, lover?” She uncrossed and re-crossed her tiny legs, letting the toe of one foot rub against the inside of his thigh.
With a brazen smile King worked his charm. When he leaned in his hot breath warmed her unnaturally cold skin. His low, dark voice purred with dangerous intent. “Hannibal King, but, kitten, you can call me yours.” She laughed like a highschool girl and curled her hands around his thick waist. It was the last memory he had of his life as Hannibal King, human. Once the lights went out on the world everything changed. He rose a midnight son, with a thirst for blood and a hatred that burned in the pit of his splintering soul.
****************************
When he woke up the room was dark and stunk of sex and blood. Interesting combination. His head spun as he tried to sit up. With a shooting pain his stomach demanded food. Doubled over on the bed he groaned, his hands clutched his tight stomach as the pain flooded his senses. Hannibal’s hand stirred the silk sheets, the sound of his rough hand on the smooth fabric was loud. Each tiny thread of the fabric that caught his skin sounded like a tear in a thin scrap of paper. The flutter of his thick lashes was heard clearly. Not only did his stomach hurt but his neck throbbed and burned. Rubbing his neck he jumped when he felt the sticky substance drying on his skin. What the fuck?
Holding his hand out in front of him he could see the glistening blood on his fingers as if the lights had been turned on. The smell made his jaws water and he growled. Instinctively he licked the blood away and felt a hot tingle run through him. Shit, he thought. What is wrong with me?
On wobbly legs he rose from the bed. The mirror across the room reflected his naked form glistening with sweat. With blood. Some of it his own. Not all of it though. On the floor, near his feet was a woman. Her heart fluttered as it tried to keep beating. King knew this because he could hear it. The sound was loud, driving him nuts. Looking back at the bed he gasped as he saw the creamy white sheets stained with red. Stepping away from the mess he tripped on the body and clumsily fell down beside her. Pale fingers that were stained with blood tried to reach out for him only to bump his cheek with a weak touch, dabbing the drying iron tinged goop on his cheek. Her thick lips puckered like a fish out of water as she tried to form words and beg for his help.
The smell of the blood was overwhelming. Over and over he tried to convince himself that this was just a bad dream. But behind his tightly closed eyes he saw it all. Danica. She brought him here. Fuck. How many days ago was that? There were flashes of filthy sex, biting, bleeding…of the pale woman on the floor. The echoes of her screams and cries for help played in his head over and over stirring his guts violently, threatening to spill the contents on the floor. His body cried out in pain and he doubled over, curling into a ball on the plush floor. What did that bitch do to me?
In his moments of confusion he grew hungrier. His body demanded the life giving blood that it needed to live. Hannibal didn’t want to. He couldn’t.
“Lover....” That cold, annoying voice he remembered from his dreams called out from the door way. “You’ll waste away if you don’t eat someone. You said you like blondes.” She pointed to the body beside Hannibal on the floor with the slim digits holding her cigarette. Smoke billowed from her soft pale lips as she stared down at his bloody form on the floor. There was a smile on her face that made him sick. Sicker.
“Fuck you.” He spat at her like venom.
“Later pet. She’ll taste like shit if you wait any longer.” The tiny woman was draped in an expensive silk robe that hung barely past her ass cheek, her feet in heels that would cost most people at least one entire paycheck. The steel tipped stiletto moved, kicking the dying woman on the floor, making her roll over.
Unable to stand the pulsing of her heart or the smell of the blood Hannibal ripped her up off the floor with a single hand. Glaring up at the woman who changed his existence with one diseased bite, he sunk his new fangs into her tender throat. Poor thing didn’t even have it in her to scream or fight. The last drops of her life flowed into his mouth infusing a deep seeded hatred into every cell.
Danica ran her hand over his head and chuckled lightly. King swatted her away with a strong slap of his hand. Not once did he take his eyes off of her, the dark chocolate pools glowed with new light. Amber pain burned brightly in the darkness lighting his seductive stare with a new found purpose. “When you’re done lover go get cleaned up. And change the sheets would you?”
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Soaking wet and breathing hard he sat upright in the bed. Sheets clung to his body, twisting around his legs like snakes. Clawing at them with wild hands he tried to free himself in his panicked state.