Re: Roadside tent: Daniel W & Damian W
Damian interrogated Goon #2 for the whereabouts of the owners of Footprints Sets 1 & 2. He did this with the assistance of heavy-heeled boot to testicles. The man squealed at a pitch that would have been impressive in any other setting. Damian, however, was merely disgusted by this display of utmost cowardice. In the end, he did not care to hear the answer that might have been offered, if the useless man on the ground could have been calmed to deliver it. He ground the toe of his boot down on the goon's scrotum without reservation. I will save you from the graphic detail. (He was judicious, however. He did nothing more than bruise.) The annoying squeal increased in volume, then ceased altogether as Goon #2 lost consciousness. Damian knew, if the owner and second person were nearby, they had already been alerted by the first pierce of their hired man's yelp. Let them come then. He zip-tied the man's hands behind his back, bound his ankles as well, de-armed him, and left him propped against the solid spike of a tent stake.
He looked over to watch his accomplice emerge as a specter from the shadows. The vampire—and by now, all other options were guttered as it became clear, the man was a vampire, brought here by a sense of propriety—showed a glittering, dangerous array of teeth. A shot went off and Damian saw it impact the barefoot man's chest. This did not stop him. And as the vampire came forward, Goon #1 screamed as loud as his compatriot had. Damian drew nearer to the vampire, approaching from the front, as Goon #1 destroyed the false vampire in a rain of craft-store ruin as he impacted it. The man was knocked out of consciousness, so Damian bent to bind him as he had the first. He dragged the limp body over to the other and set them together. He looked to the vampire, pressed a finger to his lips, then turned his hand flat, palm toward the floor—back to the shadows. He pushed himself into the blackness deepest near the wall of the tent and crouched low, near the prone forms of the henchmen. (If a light was cast about by the impending interlopers, they would not be able to pick his shape out.)
Footsteps approached, at a normal pace, then slow, slower. The vampire was likely able to pick up the prick of two hearts beginning an uptick as adrenaline flushed both men outside. (Let us call them the Boss and the Actor, the owners, no doubt, of Footprints Set 1 & 2.) The smell of blood, iron and new, was heavy in the air to the nose sensitive to such, as was the sting of cordite. Damian only listened as footsteps parted and began to circle the tent, the men heading in opposite directions as if this was the cleverest of plans. The tent was all of fifteen feet in diameter. Damian rolled his eyes from his so-called hiding spot.—A flashlight did show itself in a high-wattage beam, though it was unable to permeate the tent's thick canvas with any real clarity. The men outside conferred in voices barely audible over the raucousness of late-summer night.