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Chap. 4 - What About Yesterday
Published Jul 19, 2012


Written By

HumorMeh

Storyteller
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What's a girl supposed to do when all her living relatives end up dead in rapid succession?

Ask a vampyre, who you have a slightly valid suspicion is stalking you, to help out?

Yes, though only if that vampyre was VERY friendly? No, because you've got other options? Not ever, 'cause it's a FREAKING vampyre? Maybe-so, because you DON'T have any other options?

Let's find out what Marisa does -

Never forget: hope you ENJOY!

What's a girl supposed to do when all her living relatives end up dead in rapid succession?

Ask a vampyre, who you have a slightly valid suspicion is stalking you, to help out?

Yes, though only if that vampyre was VERY friendly? No, because you've got other options? Not ever, 'cause it's a FREAKING vampyre? Maybe-so, because you DON'T have any other options?

Let's find out what Marisa does -

Never forget: hope you ENJOY!
"Who's this?"

"Brock—" Oren breathed "—I asked first."

"Ugh. I'd have to talk to one of the higher-ups, we don't make a habit of letting humans into our Sanctum Sanctorum let alone ones who we don't intend to stay, Oren."
"What is this place?"
His gaze cut to her—through her: "I call it B.O.O.. Others, one's without my sense of humor, just call it Base of Operations."
"Ohgod—there's more of you?"
"Vampyres? Uh, hell yes. And if you mean—"
"Brock," a warning, "She's already had a bad night let's not make it any—"

"Really," Brock tested his eyes flashing, "How bad?" "My grandmother died yesterday—and today, tonight my mother was—" she couldn't get the word out of her mouth "—by one of you."

"I'm sorry to inform you. But there are no dangerous vampyres in Starlight Shores, human."
Oren had never seen such a belligerent side of Brock.

Marisa bit back—"Oh, well, I suppose I'm just crazy or paranoid and imagining that I just found my own mother's dead body!"
"Sounds like a fun night." She slapped him—she slapped Brock.

For a moment the sound of Marisa's hand coming into contact with Brock's cheek rang like an alarm in Oren's head—signaling deadly repercussions.

"Brock, don't." And Oren said a word that he had never said to Brock before, "Please."
Brock, brushed himself of, and smiled murderously at Marisa, then looked Oren in the eye, "I'll see what I can do."

The door swung shut behind him. "What are you thinking, Marisa! He could've-would've—Marisa?"

She was crying.

She banged her head against the white wall and asked, "How?"

"Uh—wait. I'm sorry." Oren said. Something sour was twisting at the back of his throat. "I'm so sor—"

"How-why did this happen, she's dead!"

Oren said nothing more.
"Mi madre, ella está muerta."
Without pause or warning, "No. "What?" Oren said.

"They said no, unl—" Brock stopped himself.

Oren urged, "You were going to say 'unless" just then."
"Yeah, unless I was willing to give her my room—but I'm not because I don't want it to start smelling like human tears."

"Brock, I will say it again—don't make me."
Brock shivered, "Not the 'p' word, okay, follow me—human."
For one second Oren didn't know whether Brock was talking to Marisa or him.
"Hey, don't get comfortable. You can take the bed, but take off your shoes—and socks!"
Then she was out like a light.
Brock said, "We need to talk."

Oren figured it was inevitable, so he followed him out and down the intricate halls.
They arrived in a computer bay. A giant screen on the forward wall. They came to a stop.

"I've only ever heard about this place—and you work here. Hope it pays better than babysitting."
"Oren, it's been only seventy-two hours since Zeth asked for your head and already there have been spikes in supernatural sightings. Take Marisa's mom for example, the only reason—" "They want me, and they don't care who's in the cross fire, is that it?"

"No, Zeth has let Mac Heath out of prison to find you—this is a Supernatural looking for revenge on you, on your mother, on your uncle, on anyone you shares your blood or affection, Oren. This Supernatural does not care what he has to do, who he has to force, and he's gonna have fun doing it."

Oren didn't blink.

Brock said, "He's got thousands of hideouts. Millions of pawns: supernaturals eager to please him."
Brock continued, "And you remember what happened last time a bunch of Supernaturals were out hunting down a good time."

"Yeah," the story had been reduced to folklore, but everyone believed it—it started on a full moon when one to many Supernaturals were taking "advantage" of the human population. Unlike other full moons, things didn't return to normal the next day. Eventually, people started fearing the night and the people hated that what was normally theirs was being taken away from them. So they arranged a little preemptive strike before things could get worse. And just like that, Vampyres, Werewolves, Witches, Warlocks were nothing but heresy.
"Here, at B.O.O., we track major population centers of any and all Supernaturals. And we track their fluxes, too. The director, Major Lynx, just got a report yesterday that Supernaturals, even the Fairies that have been in hiding for centuries, are coming out." Oren swallowed down the bile that had sprung up in his dry throat, "This is all my fault." Brock smirked, "Are you insane? No. It's Zeth's. Do not think, even for a second, you are or could ever be responsible for that maniac."

"Brock—"
"Look. Apologize to the human for me. Being protective of you is an old habit that I'm reluctant to break. You understand?"

"Brock. Her world just came crashing down; I doubt she's any threat to me."
"Right." Brock said.

Oren said, "I need to stay the night, as well."
Brock shrugged, "Find a couch." "We were going to stick with S.W.A.T. but the Fairies protested—they made this huge case that some members of the team were taking liberties and actually 'swatting' at them. Then we tried B.A.T. (Ballistics Assault Team) but the other Supernaturals opposed it, something about how it was Vampyre favoritism. Finally, S.P.F2. passed." "What does that stand for?"

"Hell, if I know. And the next time I ask you if you have any questions, just shake your head and say no." The man-witch merely nodded.
"So," Brock said, "Do you have any more questions?" "No," and he shook his head. "Good, now that we're done with the personal tour—report to Commander Ekheart, Room 16-23."

"Sixteen stories underground?" The man-witch looked a little uneasy.

"Yeah, maybe if you're lucky, do all your work, and are prompt enough you'll be let in on the little the secret of how far down this place goes."

The new employee paused as if Brock was about to divulge the information.
"What are you waiting for—skedaddle!"

And the man-witch did just that.
"Oren! How long have you been there, I see you've met Lithe, one of B.O.O.'s more brilliant and beautiful receptionists—"

"Screw you. I am Co-Director Yeats' secretary, and I found your boyfriend sleeping near my workstation. And I don't want to see his face again." And she started away.
"Ever again? Because I hear he has a thing for blondes—or, yeah, she's gone."
"Brock. I am always amazed by your ability to get me out of trouble."

"Right! What are over-protective older brother's for? Anyway, I've got two tickets to Setra, Egypt."

"Hmm. Why?" Oren said.
"Because, a little birdie—that is, a fairy—told me that while she was there she injured one of her wings (ya know, just a common pixie scuffle, those little blighters have quite the fight in them) so she asked around for a healer of Supernaturals, eventually she heard of this guy who—"

"The point, Brock?"
"The good doctor fixed her."

"Am I supposed to know what that—"

"The good Doctor Demetrius Carter."
A pause.

"Actually, this is something I'd like to do alone—"
"Not gonna happen!"

"But," Oren thought for a moment, "Your job, you can't just—"

"Meh. I've got like two hundred vacation days."

"Alright, but—"

"No! No, buts. Or only two: yours and mine, 'cause I'm coming with you. I want to see this cure you're so convinced of for myself."

"Brock—"
"You did say sooner rather than later, did you not? And this is exactly the kind of information you've been waiting-looking for, is it not? So, shut up and let's go!"

"You're forgetting something?"

Brock shouted, "Oh, really—" but he cut himself off.

Then they said at the same time:
"Marisa." / "The human."
Guess who gets left behind?

Once again I find that these things are steadily increasing in screenshots, but, alas - I cannot help it.

Anywho. From me (HumorMeh) to you (the reader), I hope you enjoyed.

And next time: The desert megalopolis of Setra.

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4 Comment(s) so far


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#1pancakewafflewarriorJul 20, 2012

This is a pretty cool story! I can't wait to get World Adventures and also supernaturals. Is that out yet, or are you just getting ready for the next EP? xD

#2TheRedCortinaJul 25, 2012

Ooh, I love it. Can't wait for more...I love your characters \:D

#3spladoumJul 29, 2012

Setra, huh? I've yet to get any custom worlds, but that one looks neat. I'll have to see how you get on in your next chapter. (Don't worry about length--real readers like to read \:\))

#4keishafellerAug 23, 2012

Great chapter, I liked it! And as Spladoum said: Don't worry about the length.

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