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02-20-2022, 10:35 AM | #11 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Music pounded so loud in the dingy bar that it was near impossible to talk. That clearly seemed to be seen as a virtue, given the nature of some of the transactions going on in a couple of the corners of the bar. Zarana worked her way around the pool table, eyeing her next shot. A watching biker grabbed her ass. She jerked the pool cue backwards into his crotch and raked her boot down his shin. As he doubled over she snapped the end of the cue into his eye, dropping him to the floor. Stepping over him, she braced her rear foot on his throat, and with a sharp motion sunk her ball. Picking up chalk, she rubbed the tip of the cue, stomped once more on the fallen biker, and lined up her next shot.
"Really boys, you'd think you could be more original," she said, sinking another ball. The music suddenly stopped, the band breaking at the end of the set. She glanced at the musicians putting down their instruments, and lined up the eight ball. And scratched. She pressed her hands against the table edge, her shoulders slumped, her head fell and she winced as the watchers burst into whoops of laughter. She eyed her opponent, who was rubbing his hands. "Alright," she said, dropping her cue on the table. "A bet's a bet. Come on then." She strode to the back of the bar, pushing past the "Employees Only" sign, and stepping outside into a dark alley lined with trash bags. Two bikers hungrily followed her, one already unzipping his pants. "Who's first?" Zarana asked. A biker grabbed her, pushed her against the wall, and started groping at her pants. Zarana smiled. Men. So predictable. She leaned towards his neck, her teeth starting to grow. A gust of wind and shadow enveloped the second biker, who barely had a moment to shout, and then his body was snatched straight up, the band tearing into his flesh, a mist of blood falling into the alley. Zarana hooked her foot behind her biker's ankle, twisted, and flung him to the ground. Her teeth razored into his neck and a spray of blood arced across a wall, cut off as her lips sealed the gash. ___ Ripper slid the door open and waved the vehicles inside. Even out here he could hear Zarana and Zanya going at it inside the bus. They never stopped sniping at each other. Same broken record: old lady, irresponsible kid, control freak, no thought of consequences, you're trying to control my dad, you're trying to con your dad. Families. "Hey," said Buzzer. "That's Zandar's bike." Ripper spun and there, leaning against front wall, was Zandar. They'd all passed right by him. The bus door burst open and Zarana practically flew to her brother, wrapping him in a tight hug. She held him close for long moments, breathing easier than she had in days. They whispered incomprehensible words to each other. Zanya watched the moment with undisguised disgust. "Well?" asked Zartan. "Someone has been poking around. They feel like PIs. I think it's an insurance investigation. I considered eliminating the problem, but thought that would just raise more questions." Zartan nodded. It was a good call. They didn't need more attention. And maybe it was just PIs, But maybe not. Perhaps it was time to move again. Visions of snow filled his head, and a sense of extreme hungry and loneliness. He blinked away images of harsh mountains. Background conversation trickled in. "I got some photos, though haven't been able to identify anyone," Zandar was saying, passing a camera to Zarana. Zartan closed his eyes and looked around, the pit organs in his face sensing heat. They'd fed in this town. It was to move on. They should start now, taking advantage of the remaining hours of darkness, before the sun made driving unbearable. Immense weight seemed to press on his chest, and he fought off a wave of fatigue. "Rest up through the day. We'll leave for a new town at dusk. Zanya, you're on watch. |
02-21-2022, 10:31 AM | #12 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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"Let me get this straight," said Dee Jay. "There's a mystery metal band out on the road who may have something to do with how a kid died. You want me to track them down at their gigs."
"I said I wanted you to find the band. I didn't say anything about going clubbing," said Hawk. "And if you don't have anything in two days the task ends. We've got actual security issues to worry about." "Best task ever!" Dee Jay whooped. Four hours later Dee Jay kicked his chair away from a computer desk and shouted at the ceiling. "Worst task ever!" He put his head in his hands and rubbed sensation back into his eyes. "What's wrong?" asked Firewall. "This band doesn't exist. There is literally nothing on them. No internet mentions. No photos. No logos. No bookings. No recordings. No mentions in fanzines. No reviews. No interviews. Nothing. They haven't even played any Air Force parties. Heck, I've looked up the record stores in this area. The only music they have is the kind bought by soccer moms and kids in sweater vests. There aren't any local radio stations. Those were all consolidated years ago, and get piped in from out of state. I called them all anyway, and none have heard of Cold Slither. I even went wider to campus radio, and nothing. None of my old DJ contacts have heard of them. There is no way to tell where they're going to play. What kind of band avoids publicity?! How do they pay for food and gas?" It was like chasing ghosts. If only they had a following. He sipped an energy drink. Why couldn't they have a following? He bit his lip, trying to follow the threads of the thought. Was there a way to create something that people would latch onto - to create the kind of following that would then generate intel on this band? "What would it take to set up a fake online fan club for a band?" "What an awesome idea!" laughed Firewall. "But hey, I've got a better one. What if we also put out something by the band. Like, prizes for the first people to find us." She made air quotes. "It's gotta be just enough hidden to be obscure and niche, but have some breadcrumbs leading to it. And a catch phrase. Something like . . . I dunno . . . how about "If you have health insurance you won't like our music! Cold Slither!" I'm on this!" |
02-22-2022, 01:45 PM | #13 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
The acoustics in the bar were terrible. Zanya frowned, making adjustments at the mixing board. Not that anyone really cared about the quality of the music, but something in her drove her to try to get the sound right. Trying to balance Torch's bass with Ripper's keyboards was proving impossible tonight. She swore, adjusting for treble. Hunger gnawed at the edges of her mind. She took a deep breath to steady the jerkiness in her fingers. Did it matter? All they were doing was getting close to their next meal. She took her hands from the board and quickly looked around the dark room, wondering who they were going to eat tonight.
Odd. A lean, young, long haired guy was walking around the perimeter of the bar. He absolutely did not fit in here. He clearly wasn't a biker. What was he doing here? Was he recording them? Zanya looked around, caught Zarana's eye, and motioned. Zarana rolled her eyes. Zanya bit down her instinctive aggression towards her aunt, and jerked her head in the direction of the guy. Zarana glanced over, and did a double take. The guy was heading for the door, gone before she could intercept him. Zarana stepped into the humid night, breathing deeply, trying to sort through the smells of stale beer, old cooking oil, diesel exhaust and body odour. An old car pulled out of the lot. Zarana mounted a bike and followed, anger rising in her. She kept a distance, watching him pull into a run-down apartment building. She parked and walked around the building, looking up. A light went on, and she grinned. She pressed herself against the wall, feeling the grimy cinderblocks. Fingertips hardened, and her skin turned a dull grey. Bracing a foot in a crack, fingernails found purchase in the soft material, and she ascended. Peering through the window, she saw the male close a laptop computer and head for the bathroom. She levered the window open and slithered through. With soft footfalls she approached the bathroom, grinning wider as running water started, covering any sound she might make. She braced a hand on the door for a moment, excitement surging in her belly. With one motion, the door swung open. His face froze in astonishment. A hand on his neck, a pivot, the lip of a filthy bathtub acting as the fulcrum, and they were in the tub. He never even screamed. Zarana sat on the edge of the tub, wiping blood of her chin with the back of her hand. She burped, and put a hand on her swollen belly, breathing through the bloated sensation. She walked back into the main room and looked around. She scooped up the laptop and cell phone and, belly sloshing, headed back to the bar. |
02-22-2022, 03:48 PM | #14 |
Rogue Agent
Join Date: Jul 2020
Location: Pennsylvania
Posts: 62
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Really enjoying your story. Never thought of the dreadnoks as vampires before.
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02-23-2022, 10:03 AM | #15 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Quote:
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02-23-2022, 01:54 PM | #16 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
|
In the Pit's intelligence centre, an alert flashed on a screen. Photos and videos of Cold Slither, all geo-tagged, flashed up. Firewall started downloading, and called Dee Jay.
"We got a hit. And a goldmine of intel! Time to update Cold Slither's pages!" Scarlett, rocking a chair on its back legs until she had it balanced perfectly on one, narrowed her eyes as material moved across the screen. "Any cameras in the area we can tap into?" she asked. "Why?" asked Firewall. "Becoming a groupie?!" Scarlett rocked the chair's feet back to the ground and leaned forward, holding Firewall's gaze until Firewall blinked. "Um, yeah," said Firewall. "Probably." "Grab the license plate of every vehicle in that lot at that time. Focus on a vans or a bus, but get every other vehicle too. Cars, trucks, bikes. Cross reference with registration. Get me the list ASAP." "I see where you're going with this," said Firewall. "Coming right up." Silently, she added "groupie!" *** "What did you find?" asked Zartan. "I can't get into the phone," said Zarana, "but here's the website he was looking at." She turned the laptop around. The screen showed the logo from Buzzer's bass drum, and the caption: Not every movement starts with a gig at the Lesser Free Trade Hall. Nomad Rust Belt Rock! Brave the bikers who follow us, and find our next unadvertised location. Cold Slither! "What the hell? We have a fan site?!" asked Zandar. "I want to know where Zarana learned to hack a computer. Did she once date a computer geek?" asked Buzzer. "Do I look like I've ever dated a computer geek?" asked Zarana in a low, cold voice, staring hard at Buzzer. Ripper and Torch suddenly realised that this was the moment to check the oil in their bikes, and walked away from the pending explosion. Zarana grabbed Buzzer by the throat and flung him to the ground. His body shook with laughter, though no sound escaped his lips. "He didn't lock it before I ate him," snarled Zarana. "But this could be good," said Zanya. "A more diverse fanbase means more diverse food. We won't be constantly eating bikers and bums." "You still don't get it," growled Zartan. "When bikers die, cops write it off as gang-on-gang activity. No one cares. In some ways they're happy. But when kids die, friends and family expect follow up. Journalists write stories. Cops, and others, investigate." "Yeah, but - " started Zanya. "No buts," said Zartan. "Load up. We leave in ten minutes. Zarana - dispose of those," he said, waving towards the electronics. |
02-24-2022, 01:54 PM | #17 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Hawk peeked into the ops room and smiled at the site. Dee Jay, Firewall, Rock n Roll and Psyche Out were sitting around a table, poring over some products, clearly working on a plan of some kind. Some awful music was playing in the background. A frown crept across his face. What were they planning? He wasn't aware they were part of any op. Which didn't mean a part of the team wasn't displaying initiative, but . . . He walked to the table and picked up a poster with the words "Cold Slither" written on them, the "S" in the form of a snake.
"How about, "More lethal than Altamont - Cold Slither!"" said Rock n Roll. Firewall wrinkled her nose. "Eew. That's poor taste I think." "Right," said Rock n Roll. "'Cause metal bands are always making sure their music is in good taste." There was laughter around the table. Hawk dropped the flyer and glanced at a couple of others with different graphics. One read: Why haven't there been any prison gigs since Johnny Cash? Is our audience "Live, in the County Jail?" Cold Slither Another read: Outlaw Country never broke the law Cold Slither does! "What are you doing?" asked Hawk. "Fan club!" said Firewall, excitedly. "Well stop," said Hawk. "I'm pulling the plug on this. This is a police issue. Focus on real problems. Go to the range or something." He crumpled the flyer into a ball and tossed it on the table. Rock n Roll watched him stomp out of the room and, as he reached the door, whispered loudly "Parents never appreciate our music!" Hawk glared over his shoulder and headed to the morgue, only allowing a smile to crack his demeanor when he was around the corner. But jokes aside, this wild goose chase had to end. He was calling the senator as soon as he had Doc's autopsy report. He was surprised to see Scarlett leaning against the window of the operating room, looking at Doc looking at cadavers. Even masked up it was clear that Doc was confused. She turned to Hawk. He broke off that train of thought as Scarlett waved to Doc through the window. Doc shrugged and approached the door. "He's bled out and, and the bite marks are not post-mortem, right?" said Scarlett. "And the marks have traces of anticoagulant. That padre you ran into in the middle of nowhere was on the right track. He just didn't know it." Doc threw his hands up in the air. "Here," said Scarlett, pulling out an old leather-bound book. "I doubt that Harvard or Johns Hopkins have this on their curricula, and don't have libraries old enough to have such useful references. But Professor Abronsius had an idea about what he was up against. Have a read through it. Then return it to the University of Konigsberg." She turned to Hawk. "I know you don't have the clearance to know my secondary specialty, so you'll just have to trust me on this. I'm taking Budo," she said, and held up a grainy photo of a bus with a skull on the front, and license plate ZTN-456. Hawk took the book from Doc and flipped through it. He knew his outfit had some weirdness that he had had no say in, simply having to accept some oddball members and some tasks from the Stargate Project/First Earth Battalion. But this? |
02-27-2022, 03:52 PM | #18 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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"Hey, Pink. Why aren't you up there singing with the band?"
Zarana turned and stared at the stocky guy leaning against the bar. The band was part way through the first set, and she had yet to make out the most suitable meal for the night. The interruption grated at her. "What makes you think I'm with the band?" she asked. "Pft. You're clearly related to that roadie," he said, pointing to a figure sitting in the shadows, "and you have the same vibe as the singer. I'm picturing a Nightwish kind of sound from you." "Nightwish? Not Siouxie Sue? Or the Alice Bag Band" "Well, if you're going hardcore punk then I see you like X, but I think you're more a fusion of punk, rock and goth metal." "But not Pink." He smiled and shook his head. "No. I'm still picturing Nightwish. Seriously. You should be up there." "What do you ride?" asked Zarana. "Oh. Changing the subject. Pan-head Harley. You?" "Whatever strikes my fancy. Now piss off little man." He drained his beer, held it up to her in a mock salute, and left. Zarana sniffed the air behind him. He would have been a good meal, but something about him seemed . . . "Who was that?" she snapped at the bartender. The bartender glanced at the door and shrugged. Zarana snarled to herself and headed for the door. The rumble of a bike cut through the music, and she watched him pull away from the joint. She looked around, confirming the area was otherwise vacant. Don't start getting paranoid like your brother, she thought to herself, turning back to scan the crowd, sniffing the meat. Budo pulled into an alley and parked beside a van. He opened the back doors and climbed in, squatting beside Scarlett who was surrounded by computers and radios. "I planted all the cameras," he said. "Now what?" "We wait," she said. "We watch. We learn." "And if we see them about to attack someone?" She shrugged. "We learn how they strike, and how not to be their victims." |
03-01-2022, 05:04 PM | #19 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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"What are you up to?" asked Freestyle.
"Trying out some samples from Cold Slither," said Dee Jay. "They've got a good tempo. But to do this on any scale we'd need rights to the music, not to mention better quality recordings, and I can't figure out if anyone even produces their stuff. "It's not exactly my style. I don't mind a little garage rock, but this is a bit too heavy." "You've always had eclectic musical tastes," said Dee Jay. "I guess. Bachata, merengue, reggae, calypso, Motown . . . Give me time to listen to this a few times. You're right about the tempo. I'm just less sure about all the heavy guitar parts. Who are these guys, anyway?" "Biker band that may have a connection to a murder that Hawk was asked to look into. It's kind of taken a life of its own. Doc is having a crisis of faith. Scarlett grabbed Budo and took off like a bat out of hell. And this music angle kind of became a weird side interest for me." "Hmm. So, not likely any work for the Night Boomer." "Can you shoot photos of bikers and concerts at night?" "Sure. They'll be the most expensive concert photos ever, but I can photograph pretty much anything." "What do you know about vampires?" "Ohh," Freestyle shuddered. "We've got a variety of spooky stories from back home, plus all sorts of things that spill over from Haiti. Wait. What does that have to do with anything?!" "Well," said Dee Jay, leaning in and dropping his voice to a whisper, "let me tell you about Scarlett's theory . . ." |
03-02-2022, 05:24 PM | #20 |
Crimson Guard
Join Date: Jun 2012
Location: Canada
Posts: 1,018
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Torch leaned into the bass notes, enjoying the feel of the sound vibrating through him. He looked out to the crowd, sensing their feelings, and eyeing potential meals. He licked his lips, thinking of feeding. But something was off. The room had a tension, between those who belonged, and . . . a new smell. A group of five young men had their backs to the wall, near the door. They held drinks, but had a sense of nervousness and excitement that he could smell from the stage. Bikers were glaring at them, looking almost as hungry as he was.
He missed a note. They were wearing Cold Slither t-shirts. Zarana looking around bar, sensing the weird vibe. At first she just smelled the same old walking meat - muscle-bound, tattooed, scarred, in many cases smelling of too much alcohol and hamburger. But there, against the wall, she saw the skinny punks, including some wearing - what the hell?! Cold Slither shirts?! She looked at Zartan on stage, gyrating and wailing, the lights angled wrong for him to see this. "You don't look like you belong here," she said to one. "We're here to see the band," he replied with a defiant look. Zarana grabbed two bouncers and stared them hard in the eyes. "Clear those out now before someone gets hurt." Without waiting to see if they complied, she strode to the mixing table and started pulling plugs and cables. Zanya leaped to her feet, and Zartan, caught mid-song, gave her a puzzled look. "Show's over. Pack up," snarled Zarana. _ In the back of the van, Scarlett swore and tossed her earphones to the floor. "Dee Jay's fan club spooked them. They're moving again. Get ready to go back in there to strip out the cameras." _ As they started hustling equipment to the bus, Zanya watched Zartan and Zarana convince the owner and patrons to settle down. It took less effort than she would have liked, not because she was feeling hungry, but because she felt an odd feeling that they weren't really into the music. "So let me get this straight," Zanya demanded once aboard the bus. "We're a band, and we're worried that we have fans. Seriously? Either we eat them, which, I know I know - "don't eat kids, don't play with your food" - " she said in a nasal, authoritarian voice. "Or we profit from them. Sell them stuff. Take their money. Let them point out the loser no one will miss, and eat that meatsack!" "Shut up," snarled Zartan. "The game has changed. We need a new approach." He breathed deeply, sucking in the night air, and stared up at the full moon. His lips curled back in a grim smile. He motioned to Buzzer. "The time for hiding is over. Call the others. We ride. And we hunt." |
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