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That which does not kill me...

...has made a grievous tactical error.

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Wolf trapped
[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.]


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[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.]


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.


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.]

[The imp shrieks as it pops out of existence with a wet and smelly bloop. But it has the satisfaction of knowing that Guri is no closer to finding Ben than he was before.

Ben, meanwhile, is still breathing threats at the vampires (when he can breathe). They're getting ready to feed from him again...]

[One of the male vamps leans over Ben with a predatory grin. "You're delicious, wolfy. Anybody ever tell you that before?"

He sinks his teeth deep in Ben's neck without waiting for a response.]

[Ben bucks against the restraints, or tries -- the straps hold him fast and the fist in his hair is relentless. Where the lady vamp was all come-hither seduction, this male is brute-force agony. He enjoys inflicting pain and fear. His blood being sucked from his throat feels like it's killing him.

Ben's afraid to die now.

His claws pop, and fur sprouts across his body. He's only holding the Change back by main force, because he knows that shifting while being held down like this would be a terrible idea.] Guriel!

[The vampire at his throat raises his head long enough to leer at him with bloody fangs. "There we go. Pure adrenaline. That's the stuff." He leans close enough that a droplet of blood falls from his lips onto Ben's earlobe. "Go ahead, wolfie. Dislocate all your limbs. It'll just make things more fun for us."]

[Ben dredges up defiance from some inner reservoir. He always was good at pushing back, after all.] Fuck. You.

[The lady vamp laughs, a bright, happy sound far out of place under the circumstances. "Maybe later. We can even make you like it."]

I doubt that. Very much. [Ben swallows through his abused throat and closes his eyes.] And you. Are going. To regret this.

["Sure, bud. Sure we will." The vamp bends over Ben's throat again and plunges his fangs into the other side this time.]

[The other male vamp has been doing something out of Ben's sight, but he comes into view holding a syringe filled with clear liquid. "How about we make this a little more interesting?"

Ben recoils as much as he's able.] How about we don't, you liu koushui de biaozi he houzi de ben erzi.

["But it's been so long since we've been able to get stoned with wolf blood, puppy."]


[The vamp raises his head from Ben's throat with a terrible, terrible smile. "Come on, you never know. You might even like it."]

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