Crimson Vision: Willie and the Hand Jive

Ebon locks brushed against Nathan’s features as he slowly walked down street. The wind whispered through silent streets of the city. The lights of downtown bathed the night in hues of neon and yellow. Fairchild was used to look up at the high skyscrapers of Chicago or New York, not the smaller buildings that dominated the skyline of Muncie. He couldn’t help but muse to himself about how quant it was. He was still rolling through his head why he had come back. Clearly, he wanted his revenge. But why Muncie? He could have gone to Chicago or Indianapolis. Heck, he could have gone to any of the major cities. Most kindred thought this beast was dead. It was a ruse he would let play out as he built his strength. The only option that he gave himself was the fact he needed a lair, a base of operations so to speak.

Breath escaped from between tiers of alabaster as the dark leather jacket hugged his muscular figure. His lower jaw jutted out slightly. His jacket was so…plain, compared to what he usually wore. But that would come back in time. The dark biker jacket fit him snuggly, and added to the disguise of an everyday grad student. His hands resided in the pockets of the jacket as he took in his surroundings. Fairchild was trying to grow use to this environment again. He huffed in frustration as he continued to walk past an alleyway.

“Change?”

Fairchild blinked, his gaze slowly turning toward the man who resided near the entrance of the alleyway. He looked to be in his late 40’s or early 50’s. The life he lived wore on his body like a jacket. Dirt and grim were smeared against his features. He wore a blue shirt, in which the collar was stretched. A few holes tore through the soft fabric of his shirt. He wore a raggy overcoat over that. In his left hand, he had a plastic white cup. He extended it outward toward Fairchild. Nathan shook his head, lifting his hand to almost shoo him away. Nathan continued down the street, his gaze not leaving the skyline above him.

“Fuckin’ faggot.”

Those two words caused Nathan to stop in his tracks. Nathan’s mouth pulled into a thin line, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. The beast slowly turned on his heel, his eyes locking upon the man who had just said that. Nathan slowly lifted his hand, extending a digit to point at the hobo. “You just made my list of things to do tonight.” Nathan made a show of his left hand reaching into his pocket. He actually raised his right hand, keeping the digit up as if telling the man to hold on. He frowned, his fingers grabbing at nothing in his pocket. He bit down upon his lower lip, trying to look annoyed as he tried to grab something. It was for a second that he smiled, as if finally reaching for the man’s prize.

And what was that prize?

Nathan pulled his hand out of his pocket as he moved closer to the man. His hand was balled in a fist, almost as if he had a handful of change. Instead of dropping change into the cup that the hobo held, Nathan immediately swung at the man. The blow struck true, slamming hard against the man’s cheek. He dropped his cup, change spilling out into the shadows. Nathan brought his hand back around, his knuckles hitting the man’s other cheek. He stumbled back into the shadows of the alleyway.

With a loud thud, the man fell to the ground. Nathan didn’t wait for him to try and recover. He was immediately on him, his legs pinning the man’s arms to the ground. Azure hues narrowed as they locked upon the man’s dirty face. “Doctor an’ a lawyer an’ an Indiana chief…they all dig that crazy beat. Way Down Willie gave ‘em all a treat…” Light teased against the edges of the monster’s leather jacket. The first blow slammed hard against the man’s nose. A bit of blood escaped

Each sound that escaped from the man’s throat was accented by the sick, wet sound of a fist slamming into broken flesh. Nathan snarled, his eyes gleaming like a wolf as he straddled the struggling man underneath him. What could have been described as a twisted grin crept across his features, which were covered in shadows. Each terrible fall of that fist caused more of that crimson liquid to escaped from the wounded man. Nathan tilted his head, studying his handiwork.

That smile turned into a sneer as he watched the man. Thankfully, Nathan was holding himself back. The last thing he currently needed was another body amongst the mound. That would come soon. But now, he would have to remain somewhat hidden. But he felt that urge, that gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach that urged him on. He had to push down that feeling of hunger, of revenge. It burned through his stomach like acid. Their Reich had fallen. But how many of those kindred who were still remained loyal to that remain? Nathan brought his hand up to his mouth, his tongue barely escaping it to slowly lap at the blood that now caked his fists. Slowly, twin pools of azure glanced around to make sure that they were out of sight. A smirk rumbled from his features as his fingers checked the man’s pulse. Yup. He was still with the living.

Nathan’s left hand came down to cover the man’s mouth. The hobo had passed out by this point, but Nathan wanted to make sure he didn’t startle awake. He leaned down, his movements fluid and serpentine. It was then that Nathan opened his mouth, wider than it should of. Fairchild could feel cold, wet splash against his features as he revealed his true face.

- - -

“Heh. Do that crazy hand jive.” Growled Nathan. Heavy boots fell against the pavement as Nathan moved out of the shadows. He wiped away the last bit of blood that had smeared against his lips. New found strength burned through his muscles. He had dragged the hobo back toward the street. He would live, but he would feel like he got hit by a train. Fairchild dropped a few crumbled dollars next to the cup, making sure that it resided in the discarded item. And it was with that, the beast continued his hunt.