13th Bite // Denied Shoreleave

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Spam - Mickey ]

[ In the grand scheme of things, a week hardly meant anything in the vampire's life. A mere inconvenience. However, with the Admiral's announcement, he was rather glad to hear that tell-tale click of the door unlocking itself once his time was expired. He had no way of knowing what lie outside the ship or what sort of port they'd found. But it meant being among strangers. People he could charm, manipulate and control. People he could feed on without werewolves and hunters descending upon him.

But being in Zero meant his senses were at a completely human level. So as he pushed out of his cell, he didn't know there was someone who might be waiting for him. Not in this darkness. ]

[ Spam - Scott McCall ]

[ Jerry was, in a word, pissed. Mickey was supposed to be his to control. It was only dragging himself out of Zero and onto the level Eight that he wasn't actually in pain any longer. But he was still broken up pretty badly, face battered and bloodied. Partially transformed to something monstrous from the trauma. He was furious. The sort of anger that left him more than a little distracted. Being locked away for a week was a minor indignity was one thing. But being kicked around by a human was something else entirely.

Of course the ship was nearly empty. The port had emptied the whole place. He pushed his senses as far as he could, seeing out anyone with a heartbeat. A warm body to feed on. He didn't care what they were. ]

[ Voice - Open ]

[ He's back in Zero. Weaker than ever, and left to allow his wounds to heal at an agonizingly human rate. ]

Could someone do me a favor in your little errands? Pick me up a little something. Preferably young. And blonde.

And if there's a doctor left on board, would you mind bringing a few bandages down to Zero?

Comments

[americasdirtiest]

[It hadn't been hard to find out where Jerry had vanished to. It wasn't exactly like his goings-on around the Barge were discreet. At first, he'd shrugged it off with a vindictive, furious good. Something about it had kept nagging him, though, all through the first couple of days. On the day before the port, he'd remembered: how had he taken Andrew down on the Mirror Barge? Level Zero.

From there, it was easy enough to make a plan. Even without his beloved guns/knives/machetes/brass knuckles around anymore, there were plenty of things for Mickey to use a a weapon. In the end, he upended the big dining room table and, with a little time and more patience than he usually had, broke one of the heavy legs off of it.

And when everyone else starts heading off the ship, he yawns and feigns exhaustion -- Okay, okay, I'll go, just let me get some fucking sleep first, I was up all night.

Then he casually strolls down to Zero, takes up a position right beside the door, and almost lazily swings the table leg up into Jerry's chin the moment it opens.]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He has but a moment to notice not only notice not only Mickey but the cudgel swinging in his direction. Outside of Zero, it would have been more than enough time to react and evade. But didn't even have a chance to halt before the weapon connected with his chin.

His head snapped back and he dropped hard to the floor. Dazed, he slowly pushed himself up. He could taste blood in his mouth. ]

And here I thought we were friends, Mickey.

[americasdirtiest]

[As Jerry busies himself with trying to stand, Mickey's stepping inside, shoving a splinter into the doorjamb before he pulls the door shut. He doesn't want to get stuck in there, but nor does he want it to be easy for Jerry to leave. Not before Mickey's finished teaching him what happens when you cross a Milkovich, vampire or no.]

Guess you better stop thinking, then.

[He grins and feints as if to crack him on the head again, then shoves the butt end of the cudgel into Jerry's gut instead. Jerry got up once; Mickey doesn't plan on letting that happen again.]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Mickey's work with the door gave Jerry a chance to get fully upright again, his head clearing. But before he could do any more than that, weapon slammed into his stomach. He doubled over with a grunt and he was dropped to his knees.

He glared up at the kid, genuine irritation and frustration starting to show through. ]

You asked for it.

[ He forced the words out, a bit breathless, taking a guess at why Mickey was so aggressive. ]

You can't blame me for what happened.

cw: violence and a little gore

[americasdirtiest]

[You asked for it, Jerry says, like Mickey hadn't been fighting like hell the entire way down -- and if anything convinces him that he's not doing a single Goddamn thing wrong here, it's that. His blood runs cold, but that gives him the strength to stop playing around and just fucking go for it while he's got the chance.

He spins the table leg around in his hands and cracks Jerry in the back with it, right on the knob at the base of his spine. The truth is, though, the makeshift club is too slow and too distant for his tastes now that Jerry is down. He aims a vicious kick at him instead, then another, then another, and when that's not good enough, he drops down to go at him with his fists. There's blood there now, just the same as what Jerry had so happily drained out of him, and he flashes a humorless, feral grin at the sight of it, grabbing Jerry by the hair.]

I told you you'd be fucking sorry, asshole.

cw: violence and a little gore

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Jerry tried to fight back. But for too long, he'd relied on supernatural abilities. He felt like he was fighting through sludge, moving far too slow to be effective. Teeth and claws out, he managed to slash at Mickey, but nothing even close to the sort of attack that would do any real damage.

But when Mickey finally stops, he might actually have an opening. He fell limp against the human's grasp, amplifying just how injured he actually was. Which wasn't difficult with how bloodied his face was. He'd started to transform further. His eyes dark, skin pasty pale, ears distorted and pointed. ]

That didn't stop you from coming back after the first time wore off.

[ All at once, he pushed off the floor. Throwing as much force behind an attack. His shoulder slamming toward Mickey's chest, his claws aiming to dig into his stomach. ]

[chaotica]

[ Crisp, and efficient: ] On my way.

[ He arrives only a few moments later. He does have a few bandages (ugh), but doesn't think he'll need them. Mostly, there is the dermal regenerator, the protoplaser and the hypospray. He has the warden on duty let him in, leaving his combadge outside.

He breaks out the medical tricorder immediately, to scan the injuries. ]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Jerry's on the lower bunk when Cambridge arrives, propped up against the wall, looking like he'd just gone ten rounds with the world's best. His face was a bloody and bruised mess, though a lot of the wounds seemed days old, rather than less than an hour. There were several fractures in various places, the worst being the arm that he held gingerly across his stomach.

He eyed the man, looking almost tired. He looked skeptically at the device, but didn't give it any further regard. ]

You're new.

[chaotica]

You're ignorant of the goings-on of the ship.

[ It's easy to spot Cambridge there. He's not shy.

He spots fractures, abrasions, bleeding. He can't do much about the bones, not with the limited tools he has, which is deeply annoying. But he can set them into the right places and get the tendons and muscles around them more intact.

He also spots the lack of heartbeat, etcetera. ]

Anything I should know about your condition? The condition of being dead, I mean.

[400yearsofsurvival]

I've been...away.

[ It was his only explanation to his ignorance. He would have gladly STAYED away. But that choice was not his. ]

You're the doctor, you tell me.

[ He'd never had medical scans done before. But certain parts of his body must read as awfully strange. Retracted claws. A jaw that only looked human on the surface. Rows upon rows of sharp teeth, retracted into that inhuman jaw. Though some medical imaging would be a challenge. ]

[chaotica]

You're the one who lives in that body. You tell me.

[400yearsofsurvival]

I lack the...expertise to describe it. Maybe you'll benefit from a practical demonstration.

[voice]

[themissingpiece]

Sold out of young blondes. How about some holy water? [completely deadpan]

[voice]

[400yearsofsurvival]

I think I'll pass. Not nearly as appetizing.

[semifreakingnormal]

[Part of him cannot wait to get off this boat. Part of him is way too exhausted to have a European Vacation Adventure. He's been dragging his feet about disembarking, wandering the Barge instead. He feels like a ghost, and that's weird, isn't it, he'd pretty sure that's weird, even though he feels like it makes sense, too. He should be happy that they all - that most of them - that they made it back. He should be greatful for the break.

But it doesn't feel like a break. Scott still feels like he could sleep for a week, even though he's reluctant to even close his eyes. He was dead for two days, and though he knows he wasn't really - conscious in any way, it still feels like he was. Like he couldn't move, or speak, or see, like he was staring at the inside of his eyelids, at the back of his head, like life was just out of reach, like--

He shakes his head to clear it. He can't keep doing this, letting it over take him. He has to get over it.

And he has to pay better attention to his surroundings. He's too caught up in his thoughts to smell the dead thing approaching.]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Upon seeing it was Scott who was the source of the heartbeat, Jerry hesitated. He drew back into the shadows, silently trying to will his arm to heal faster. But as he watched, it became clear that the werewolf hadn't sensed him. But it was so much more than that. Scott wasn't just ignoring him. There was something else off about him. He seemed to be moving slower. Sluggish and dragging, like so many others he'd seen who'd spread themselves too thin. But he was used to seeing it weary adults, not capable teenagers.

He wasn't going to question it. He had every intention of making every use of this beautiful opportunity, even if he felt werewolf blood was subpar. He crept closer, his feet silent. Testing the kid's senses and reactions in his altered state. Seeing if he could close enough to grab him. ]

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott is too lost in his own thoughts. He's been so busy shutting out his senses - so busy trying to suppress the feelings of monstrosity within himself - that he's forgotten how useful they can be. And how occasionally necessary.

He doesn't hear Jerry until it's too late.]

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He pauses, just outside of the range that a human would be able to sense him nearby. But it's for barely a heartbeat. In a snap, he rushes forward. With one only partially functional, he adjusts his usual tactic. He shoves Scott toward the nearest wall, twisting him around. He slammed his good arm across the werewolf's chest, to pin him to the wall. ]

[semifreakingnormal]

[Scott was just about to move on, shifting his weight when Jerry moves on him. It puts him off balance, and his head thunks hard against the wall as Jerry shoves him into it, leaving him dazed for a moment. He still gropes for his attacker, though, grasping for a hand hold, something to shove against.]

What--

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ Jerry smiled, all fangs and black eyes, right in Scott's face. That was almost too easy, but he'd take it either way. ]

I was hoping to find someone...human, but I guess a werewolf will have to do. Did you ever wonder, Scott?

[ He may not be able to do much with his damaged arm, but he did bring that hand up, dragging a finger down the side of the alpha's throat. ]

What would happen if you were turned by something else? Can a werewolf become a vampire, or would it just kill you?

[orderfromchaos]

[The evening of the last day in port, Dillon comes down to zero and tosses a small plastic toy through the bars.]

Catch.

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He watched Dillon approach, and stood up from the bunk. He didn't look all that battered, but he still held his right arm rather gingerly.

He didn't even try to catch the toy. He just leaned out of its trajectory, watching as it bounced off the wall, before he looked to Dillon, not saying anything. ]

[orderfromchaos]

No? Alright.

[Straight to business, then.]

This set-up you've got going, attacking people, playing the waiting game in here, and then doing it all over again - it's going to stop.

[400yearsofsurvival]

[ He nudged at the toy with the toe of his boot. Strange things had happened when Dillon touched him, so he didn't trust anything that Dillon had touched. He gave the little horse a kick, sending it back through the bars. ]

Is that what you think I'm doing?

[orderfromchaos]

Whatever it is. Man, I don't care.

You hurt anyone else who isn't actively in the process of trying to attack you first, and I'm turning you back into a human. Period.