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That which does not kill me...

...has made a grievous tactical error.


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Wolf trapped
werewolf_hacker
[Ever since Ben has known about vampires, he hasn't liked them much. They smell wrong, they act snooty, and they give him the willies.

That being said, they've been less problematic to him since he started the Hound of God gig. Last time one of them tried to feed from him, it exploded in a puff of dust and bones, like it had consumed a glassful of holy water.

Of course, last time a vampire tried to feed from him, he didn't have six premeditated and callously unrepented murders hanging over his head--and he wasn't stopped on a dusty little planet for refueling and resupply on his way to a "rescue mission" that will no doubt result in more casualties he won't be particularly sorry for.

So he's very unpleasantly surprised when he's ambushed by a trio of vampires as he's coming (alone) out of a seedy little bar. They've got silver shackles and a wolfsbane net, and it takes them less than no time to truss him up, toss him in the trunk of a car, and drive away, while he swears impotently at them.]

...Guriel!

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[Usually, Guriel's right at Ben's side, stuck closer than his shadow. And usually, even if Ben does give him the slip, Guri can find him in a heartbeat.

But things aren't usual, these days, nowhere even close. And Guri's got no idea at all of exactly where his brother is -- nor can he hear him calling.]


[The vamps have a shipping container out at the docks, in a quiet corner not frequented by very many people. Paralyzed and in agony, all Ben can do is curse and demand that they let him go.

That's not happening, of course. Ben gets an all-over chill that has nothing to do with the wolfsbane when he sees their setup in the shipping container. It's a sort of living area, with cots and a television--

And an execution table in the middle of it. The place reeks, if Ben could smell anything at all, of wolf, fear, and death. It's not like they have to strap him down, not with the wolfsbane, but they do anyway, with silver across his wrists and biceps. "It leaves a nice piquant flavor," one of the vamps explains helpfully. They tear his shirt off, but leave him the minor dignity of his jeans, anyway.]

Fuck you.

Guriel!

[Guriel . . . is panicking. Recent days have been hell on Ben's coping mechanisms -- not to mention his soul -- and Guriel very, very much does not like not being able to find him.

He knows a thing or two about conventional tracking -- "conventional" in the sense of "non-angelic", anyway -- so he falls back on that, combing the shabby streets for any sign of Ben while he sends up fervent prayers.]

Come on, Dad, please give me a sign . . .

[The "tattoo" on his chest is cause for comment, but they don't actually ask him about it. Two of them are male, one female, and they're watching him like a lion drooling over a particularly fat and tasty gazelle. He assiduously avoids their gazes.]

Let me go and this won't escalate.

[They laugh. "Do you know how rare wolves are these days? Let you go? We're going to keep you as long as possible."]

[Guriel's listening with all his might to the chatter in the Heavenlies, to brothers who saw things and heard things. It's not the usual efficient buzz it would be before . . . well, before.

Guriel hates this. Nothing good can come of Ben being this hard to find.]

[The lady vamp stations herself beside his head, and the two males are at either side under his outstretched arms. The table is slightly humped under his shoulders, which forces his neck to tilt back. The lady vamp runs her fingers through his hair before fisting her hand in it and wrenching his head to one side.

"Relax, puppy. You'll like it, I promise."]

Don't--!

[She doesn't listen of course. She bends over and sinks her fangs into his exposed throat. He makes a strangled sound as a wave of pleasure suffuses his entire body, and he suddenly knows how vampires have survived all this time. It really does feel fantastic.

He doesn't even notice when the male vampires start feeding from his forearms.]

[Guriel's getting increasingly agitated, flitting from place to place through the Elsewhere without being especially careful who might see him bodily disappearing when he does.

He has other things to think about. Much more important things. Like where the hell Ben is, and exactly how bad things might be if Guri can't find him . . .]

[The imp materializes at Guriel's shoulder. "What's the matter, wingly? At loose ends now your Charge is dead?"

He's a demon. Lying is what they do, after all.

Meanwhile, the vampires take nearly a pint apiece, leaving Ben limp and panting hoarsely and wondering what the hell just happened. They should be bones and ash right now, but they look way healthier than he does.

One of the males wheels an IV pole over. "Should probably get some blood expanders into you, puppydog."

He tries to recoil, unsuccessfully.] Keep that fucking thing away from me.

[Guriel wheels and gets the imp by the throat, cloaking his fist in a nimbus of pure power.]

I am in no ruttin' mood, Hellspawn. Tell me where he is.

[The imp laughs, high, screeching, and grating. "In Hell, cubby. I mean, you can't feel him anymore, right?"

The vampires don't listen to Ben's protests, of course, because no one ever does. They tape the needle into the back of his hand, and the panic attack surprises them with its vehemence.]

Guriel!

You're lying. [Guriel dials up the power in his grip. Sue him, he's cranky.] My Father, my brothers would've told me, dumbass, so try again. Where. Is. Ben. Lockwood.

["Oh, sure. Your Daddy would never teach you a lesson about getting attached to the meatsacks, and make your brothers keep quiet about it. Right?" The imp sneers, though it's in a fair amount of pain. "Face it. He gave himself over, and now he's getting his just reward."

Ben can't breathe, or feel his face. The needle in conjunction with the vampires is doing terrible things to his scattered coping mechanisms. The lady vamp runs her fingers through his overgrown hair. "Relax, puppy. We'll make it good for you."

He just swears at her in Chinese.]

No, He wouldn't. Because Dad isn't an asshole, which is more than I can say for you. Last chance, dude, tell me where Ben really is or I smite you into a greasy little stain on the wall here.

["Okay, okay, jeez, play hardball, you must really be worr--" The imp gets a good look at Guriel's expression and realizes that he really is thisclose to a bad smiting. "Fine, okay, he's in the whore district looking for hookers and blow because this broke him just that much, are you happy now?"

Ben is, of course, in no way ready for the whore district, and if any of these vamps touch him that way, he's going to stake them so hard.

Somehow.

At this point, however, they seem content to just feed from him, and then build him back up again. In the interests of that, they've removed the wolfsbane, but he's still strapped down tightly enough that he can't move.]

Edited at 2015-04-11 04:49 pm (UTC)

. . . hookers and blow. Really?

[Guri knows Ben is in a bad way. But he's under no illusion that he's in a bad enough way to just not be Ben. He leans in close and bares his teeth at the demon, much more lion than man right now.]

While you're in the Pit, find someone to teach you how to be a better liar.

[He doesn't even bother with his sword, just a surge of power that should be more than enough to turn the imp into a cloud of component atoms. It makes him feel marginally better.]

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