Read Mr. Plague: A strike of Red :: Chapter 2

Masquerade

~Exchange~

I hate clubs and their very nature.
Nothing about gathering in a dark building with a plethora of strangers, a majority in which have insidious motivations and behaviors, is remotely interesting and useful of one’s time. Not to mention the questionable design choices of the interior structure. I often wish for the lights to suddenly come on within these gatherings. To illuminate the imperfections and cheap paint inside the buildings, and exposing the equally cheap lives that inhabit it. So many stories, and so much time is wasted by people who rather feel numb than to confront their truth. Avoiding the inevitable has always been a key component for the unremarkable, and this particular club greatly solidifies it.

Red-Eye is the place where all vices and fantasies are granted tenfold. Any drug you want, you can have. Any type of person you crave, you can easily secure. As I swiftly move through the dance floor, I noticed many types of people obliviously dancing in their own world. Teachers, politicians, law enforcement, criminals, and artists were heavily under the influence of Crimson-Powder. Many of them engaged in romantic relations. Some kissed, some performed fellatio to their dance partners, and others outright performed intercourse in various booth sections. I avoided eye contact with anyone, and pressed forward through the dance floor. The music was hypnotic to say the least, but it was purposefully set that way. They need their customers to forget who and where they are, as a sedated prey is a lot easier to capture and feast upon than an alert one.

   I weave through the crowd with a steady hand forward. Some young woman grabbed my arm in a show of yearning affection, but I quickly shove her face back into the crowd to send a message to anyone else who wants to touch me. This unfortunate action, puts plenty of attention on me. Not by the drugged-out heathens festering in their own self destruction, but the blood suckers with enough sense to know I stand out too much. They fixed their cold red gaze on me until one finally decides to ask questions.
   “You’re not louis” he says, quickly blocking my path. “Where is he, and who are you?” This particular lad stood at about five feet, six inches. His slender frame and pale skin nearly make him stand out on the dance floor. A trickle of blood can be seen on the right corner of his mouth. He just had a fresh meal.
   “I need to talk to Frederik.”
   “You never asked my question.”
   “Do I really need to?”
   “No, I’m just messing with you. It’s not often someone of your caliber and expertise pays us a visit. Follow me.” He leads me to the farthest staircase going to the upper second level. We exchanged playful banter while approaching the main balcony, and I never realized how chaotic this place really was. The scope of what I saw on the floor pales in comparison to the full view of the upper level. Many personnel were scattered around the center booth where Frederik sat. Female and male vampires stared at me with curiosity. They could definitely see past my disguise. Vampires were always a hassle when it comes to deceiving, thanks to their overall keen senses. “Sir, we have a visitor.”
   Frederik’s legs were resting on the messy table in the center of the circular booth. His arms were spread along the rim and his head leaned all the way back, giving off a calm, yet vulnerable look. Appearing weak to potential threats is his most favored tactic. “Well, look who decided to crash my party. What are you doing here Masquerade? How come you’re wearing Louis’ face? Actually, I don’t care that he’s dead. I’ll have to disperse his feeding stock to my people later.”
   “You look well Frederik. How long has this building been open?”
   “You never answered my question.”
   “Do I really need to?”
   “Yes.”
   I take the hint and avoid potential death. I can comfortably fight one of them, but I can’t take on more than two without sustaining a life-threatening injury. Their lethality is just as deadly as their cunningness. “I’m looking for someone, Donovan Pinkerton. Do you have any lead on where he is?”
   He leans his head forward to establish eye contact, all while caressing the young lady sitting next to him. “A littler bird might’ve given me a heads up. How much are you willing to pay for that information?”
   “I’m not doing anything sexual.”
   “Ha! I already get plenty of that.” He looks at the young woman sensually and protrudes his fangs. She exposes her neck in a hypnotized manner and he engages in his annual feeding. The woman’s face exudes slight pain, pleasure, and then anxiousness. Frederik seems to have drunk more blood out of her than she might’ve wanted, but by that time she could effectively fight back, it was too late. Her once vibrant body slumped forward into his life lap. Once a young woman full of life, now lays a corpse of wasted potential that was swallowed by a false sense of care and promises.
   He wipes his mouth. “For someone who spends time collecting various knick-knacks, I know you have something I actually want.”
   I remembered the vial in my pocket and pull it out for all to see. He gives it a discerning look and assures me that he has enough stock of blood. I take off the cork and re-introduce the vial. Every vampire within the vicinity slowed down with a fixation on the blood. The scent itself made their eyes dilate, followed by heavy breathing. One of his subordinates loses control and lunges at me with extended fangs and all, but he didn’t get far. Frederik had cut off both of his hands with precision and shattered his sternum with one quick strike. This unfortunate bastard fell to his knees coughed up a pool of blood. He tried to speak, but somehow between that quick sequence of actions, he also ripped his tongue out. Frederik raised one hand, and sliced his head off with an elegant poise. I hand him the vial as the other’s squirmed in extreme restraint. “Okay” he says. “Now we’re talking. You wanted to know where Donovan lives, right?”