[Center] [img=http://hdwallpappers.com/images/wallpapers/Los-Angeles-Water-Front-Skyline-long-goodbye-wallpaper.png] [/center] [Centre] [i] “As I sleep, late at night Wide awake, eyes drawn tight”[/i] [/centre] One note flowed effortlessly after another, the musician’s hands gliding over the piano keys with graceful ease, the mellow rhythm of the instrument’s musical beat drifting throughout the tavern, softly blending into the relaxed atmosphere. [Centre] [i] “Whilst I scream, Inwards fight Darkly dream, fear and fright” [/i] [/centre] Madeline accompanied the pianist, reclining gently against the large glistening frame of the grand piano, long tresses of raven hair flowing down across her narrow shoulders like water, clad in a little black dress that was tied up at the back with lace, her indulgent voice hitting each note with great skill, as one lyric after another spilled out of her supple lips. [Centre] [i] “I look to the midnight sky In the darkness I’ll fly” [/i] [/centre] The young Vampress captivated every member of the room as she sang, holding each and every one of them firmly in her grasp with the sensual sound of her musical prowess. The sheer intenseness with which she entranced those who listened to her voice might lead one to wonder whether there was some form of magical force at work. [Centre] [i] “Broken body, filled with regret Haunting memories, sins I can’t forget” [/i] [/centre] The ghoul that accompanied her on the piano played passionately, performing with increased vigour as the piece came to a close. [Centre] [i] “He was all I craved, by his touch I was saved” [/i] [/centre] For one lingering moment an unyielding silence gripped the entirety of the room, the bars patrons taking a few moments to bask in awe of the performance that they had just witnessed. Next, they were all up out of their seats, clapping and applauding loudly, a few cheers and whistles of approval caught up in the gleeful mixture. The ghoul briefly rose from his stool, taking a prompt bow, before dutifully returning to his seat. “Thank you, brothers and sisters…” Maddie’s voice was soft yet edgy, as though she were not entirely certain of the company she kept. She curtseyed awkwardly, before sashaying off into some misbegotten corner of the room, removing herself from the vision of the prying eyes that she could feel skipping across her necrotic skin. Zaylee watched the performance from her private booth at the back of the bar, her fingers dancing lightly across the wooden table in front of her. Owen Townley sat across from her, taking delicate sips from his glass of scotch. The centuries old Vampress was unaware whether he partook in the drinking of alcohol to help uphold the masquerade, or if he did it to try and appease some fragment of humanity that still remained within the confines of his subconscious. It didn’t really matter to her, anyhow. “She’s quite the little performer.” He observed nonchalantly, all but the slightest hints of his original German accent having long since faded from his voice. Even whilst at the bar, Mr Townley dressed to impress; clad in a hand tailored crisp suite, with his dark hair slicked back across his scalp. “If only she applied herself so dutifully to her other other…activities.” Zaylee stated with the slimmest inclination of humour, the earliest stages of a smile creeping across the corners of her plump lips. “Nevertheless, I would rather share the young dame’s company then that vile…creatures.” As he spoke the ex-Nazi’s eyes flickered back and forth across the farthest crooks of the room which they occupied, almost as if he were worried the Nosferatu was lurking somewhere in the shadows. Zaylee chuckled lightly, reclining further backwards in the booth’s cushions, easing herself into a position that would seemingly supply her with more comfort. [Centre] * [/centre] The predator slunk silently though the darkness, gazing out at the Los Angeles skyline from his shroud of shadows. A seemingly endless tide of glass and concrete spread out across his vision, leviathan towers of industry and urbanisation surrounded by a mass of comparatively smaller constructions. Glimmering lights dotted the sprawling cityscape, bright neon beams of varying shades and hues flickering against the moonlit night sky, flooding the blackness with a brilliant electric brightness. It finished draining what little blood remained in the mangled carcass of the coarsely furred rat that it clutched in its grime-smeared talons, before flicking the fresh rodent corpse to one side, letting it hit the ground with a distinctly wet [i] thud [/i]. The cool midnight air washed over its warped body, encasing it in an ethereal coffin of whispering winds. It made no difference though. It was always cold, always, always cold. Never warm. Its serpentine tongue ran across the scarred surface of its fractured lips, drawing no saliva as it did so. Rotface was dead. Always, always, always dead. Never living, never breathing, never [i] feeling [/i]. [Centre] * [/Centre] The bar was empty now; the tables which dotted the room completely abandoned, the stoic grand piano standing elegantly by itself, a few empty beer bottles littering the counter and table tops. Some tune from the indie rock charts eased quietly out of the muffled speakers, barely audible even amongst the almost silent room. Zaylee skimmed through the last corpulent batch of dollar bills, before placing them neatly into one the till’s compartments. The young-in-appearance Vampress slid out from behind the counter, wading out into the middle of the deserted room. Mere moments from taking her leave for the evening; Zaylee spun around suddenly, confronted by the sight of three armed men barging in through the front door. Each one was large in stature, possessing broad shoulders, muscular chests, and tree trunk-like limbs. They had varying hues of skin colour, and closely cropped hair. Uzi’s in hand, the three men swaggered into the room, filling into a sort of motley line. “Nice play ya got here.” The darker skinned of them remarked, flashing a toothy grin. “We’re closed.” Zaylee remarked simply, adopting an emotionless tone of voice. “Little young to be running a business, ain’t we?” Observed the olive skinned one, cocking one eyebrow into an inquisitive arch, his piggy eyes taking in every inch of the seemingly young girl’s body. “I’m older than I look.” She replied plainly, smiling inwardly. The biggest of the bunch, a Latino brute that towered above his comrades, stroked one spade-like hand over his bristly chin, his eyes flicking over to the till that sat atop the bar’s counter. “We’ll be takin’ everythin’ in that.” He said with a curt nod, gesturing to the cash register. “Nah, I’m rather fond of my money.” Zaylee stated, coolly admiring her painted nails. “You think you’re in a position to stop us, little [i] perra [/i]?” He snapped with a throaty chuckle, the other thugs joining in. “Guess so.” She mussed, mischief briefly flashing across her rose coloured eyes. The olive skinned one lumbered slowly towards her, his entire body swaying in an exaggerated strut. Once he was no more than a few feet in front of her, he raised his Uzi so that it was level with her head, snarling viciously as he did so. “Step aside, whore” he barked in a raspy voice, his brow furrowed. Zaylee let out a quick snort, eyeing up the goliath in front of her. “You must think you’re such a hard man, holding up little girls at gun point.” “Move.” “I think I saw some small children playing outside in the street earlier, perhaps you could go frighten them?” The dark skinned one let out a booming laugh, whereas the olive one simply tightened his grip around his machine pistol, grinding his teeth together. “You should watch your mouth, you little [i] cunt [/i]!” Zaylee sighed loudly, making an overly dramatized display of the whole ordeal. “See, I [i] REALLY [/i] don’t like that word…” In a fraction of a second, her arm shot forwards, moving at inhuman speeds, fuelled by dark energies, battering into the big fellow’s hand, sending the Uzi flying from his grip. In that very same moment her other arm went bolting towards the brute, hurtling through the air at a pace that couldn’t even be fathomed by the human eye, simply appearing as a blur to the outside world. Microseconds before impacting with her opponent’s chest, her hand clenched into a fist, rapidly smashing into the giants stomach, the combination of speed and force that propelled her attack allowing her hand to tear through, skin, muscle, and bone, her fist erupting out of the man’s back in a torrent of blood and guts, a spray of red matter cascading down upon the other two goons. All of this happened in an inconceivably fast handful of flashes, and by the time colossal thug could feasibly conceive what was happening, the last spark of life had vanished from his eyes. Zaylee pulled her hand free from the man’s ribcage, leaving his humongous body to clatter to the ground, crashing to the floor with an immense [i] thud [/i]. A look of sheer horror flashed across the other two’s faces, and for a hauntingly long moment it seemed as though they had become statues, frozen with a permanent look of terror plastered across their features. “Waste this bitch!” Roared the dark skinned one, his finger squeezing down on the Uzi’s trigger, a spray of bullets erupting from the gun’s barrel. Before he had even managed to pull the trigger, Zaylee had swiftly veered to the side- still utilizing her celerity discipline-one lone shell just about managing to graze her leg as she darted out of harm’s way. Several bullets whizzed inoffensively through the air, landing harmlessly in the uncostly wallpaper that coated one of the bar’s farthest walls. The two hoodlums turned to face Zaylee, as she phased back into existence, unsteadily clinging to their automatic weapons, pointing them squarely at the little girl, the bodies shaking nervously as thick clots of sweat poured down their brows. “THE FUCK ARE YOU?!” Gasped the dark skinned one, blinking repeatedly as he did so, as though he could somehow expel the peculiar situation in which he had found himself by recurrently shutting his eyes. The young Vampress triggered her presence discipline, her body oozing both dominance and intimidation, manifesting itself in the already doubtful consciousness of her attackers, thriving off of their existing fear. “Run.” She whispered, speaking so quietly that the pair had to strain to hear what she was saying. It was a simply command, but one that struck something deep inside hearts of the brigands, somehow confirming all of their uncertainties with one single solitary suggestion. In a matter of seconds, the pair had bottled from the bar, tearing out of the self-contained room, and rushing out into the grimy streets that lay beyond the Sleepwalker bar.