Heartthrob

Out into the world again, breathing that Vitus evening air. Her lungs barely registered the smog now - second-living like her were naturally resilient, especially to man-made hazards such as industrial pollutants. This, on top of a naturally accelerated healing factor unique to Ghouls, made Esper James as a stone wall to the more abrasive elements of Vitus weather. Acid rain burned the clothes but only chafed the skin for a few moments; smog was filtered and lung damage merely a tickle; sun and heat couldn't bother fostered cells being replaced too quickly to become cancerous, their replication mechanically facilitated.

EJ found her stomach rumbling and turning in her gut, roiling beneath the flesh. How long had it been since she last ate? Blood wasn't food for anyone but the hyper-efficient Vampires and their optimized gastrointestinal system; for the rest of the second-living, meat was what's for dinner. Going to scan the horizon for somewhere to chow down, the still-weary ghoulette realized that she was absolutely lost.

Purity's apartment building, the shiny and chrome Tansengren Tower, was the only recognizable landmark amidst the sprawl. Before her, the systematic slog of Vitus's highways and byways seemed thin and loose; fewer cars moved here, and fewer still were the street-people. These were businesspeople, politicos, and journalists; they were the kind of person who wore a suit and tie and didn't think about how much their dinner cost. They leered not at her as she passed, nor did they accost her; the knife on her thigh was free from her mind as she walked aimlessly down the sidewalk, dreaming of where to go or what to do with her Saturday.

'This is what it's like', she thought. 'This is how rich people live. No junkies... no creeps... shit, they've even got those little things on the traffic light to tell you how long you've got to cross. Damn nice.'

This dull line of thinking was cut through by a hammering-in of earlier thinking: what the fuck did Puri do that she lived here? She hadn't seemed that aristocratic, but then again, EJ's main introduction to the 'ruling class' of Vitus was Judas. Judas was a beast of her own league, an untamed animal, a force of nature. Puri was more like a painful truth wrapped with a sweet lie - easy to accept, even if it hurt. Fantasies of the pinkette's probable position began to unfurl within her munchies-mongering mind: was Puri the daughter of some rich bureaucrat? Was she a powerful executive? Could she be an actress, or a producer? Maybe some kind of meat packaging heiress, or even a CEO?

"Well, she did pack my meat, haha..." EJ said it softly to herself, smirking at her own immature remarks; perhaps the drink and drugs weren't completely free of her system as of yet. Her thoughts are interrupted, however, by another growl from her stomach, followed by a sharp pang of hunger. She had been out of it all for hours now, far too long, and even though it had been only a few since she had a proper (and sizable) meal, she still yearned for more. The life of a ghoul was never silent, it seemed. Food was next up on the list of priorities, even moreso than getting home... she felt more comfortable here, and so she was in no rush to do anything other than chomp down some grub.

Emerald eyes scan the horizon, gazing for eateries - even here in Vitus's upper-class neighborhoods, it seemed butcheries were popular. Butcheries, previously butchers', butcher's shoppes, things of that sort, are a sort of 'restaurant' unique to Vitus's anti-life: a mix between an abbattoir and an izakaya, they provide hot and cold flesh-based dishes for the second-living to partake in both casually and formally, standing or sitting or even to-go. Alcohol being one of the few other things the second-living can consume in notable quantities means that it's often served there as well. Low-class butcheries may be found offering cans of beer and wine coolers alongside pork hocks, chicken wings, and Korean BBQ, while upper-class establishments will serve aged reds with kobe, foie gras, and prime rib.

The first one that grabbed EJ's eye was Chang's Chop-Stop, an average-looking butchery boasting their new 'Hot Sesame Sinewdles'. Sure, it was a bit of a cheaper option, but EJ didn't actually carry much money on her... And she had no idea how much she had spent back at the Jezze that night. An open tab was as much a treat as a trap, and she felt like playing it cautious to ensure she could get her rent paid. Meandering over to the beat of a bawling belly, she pushed open the thin canvas drapes that composed the door and stepped inside.

Instantly, the scent of those sinewdles hit her like a thrown brick, making her nearly double-over in painful hunger. The aroma in the building was spicy and oily and intoxicating; it was rich, meaty, and savory. Hints of lime juice, ground sage, and sesame oil coated her hyper-sensitive tongue as she went to take a breath - she salivated despite herself, pointed tongue roiling as a caged serpent against her pearly white oral prison. God, but she was so needy... The gurgling of her gut propelled her forth, sliding herself into a booth.

The building itself was a compact single-room eatery, with a semi-circular bar on the left half and booths lining the walls everywhere else. Lighting was orangish and warm, fairy-lights hung from the low rafters and strung up with paper lanterns and pictures of favored customers. Detailing and decor were East Asian, but restrained, and the furnishings were composed of dark wooden booths, a black marble bar, cherry-wood trim and paneling up till midway on the walls before being replaced by faded cream wallpaper. The table Esper James sat at was old faux-stone, with the words 'JUN LONG WAS HERE' etched by steak-knife into it's plastic surface.

Soon, a server was with her: a young-ish woman with long ebon hair, sharp features, and the hint of a tattoo poking from the collar of her white dress-blouse - a tiger's paw, reaching up to slice her jugular. She popped some bright pink bubblegum with a loud snap before offering EJ a menu, eyes occasionally flitting to the disheveled ghoulette as she stalked away. EJ didn't even have a chance to nod her head in thanks. The menu was raised and read - however, something quickly caught EJ's attention, drawing her eyes from the laminated sheet of noodles and meat to a TV sitting at the bar.

"... in the West Tsurain district of our lovely city. Just last night, a once-sleepy neighborhood filled with the city's largest population of zombies was rocked to it's core, both figuratively and literally, as a massive explosive device was detonated from the heart of the Churika Budget Housing Complex. This incendiary attack, which has since completely immolated the entirety of the housing complex as well as spreading to a variety of surrounding complexes, is believed to been perpetrated by a prolific terrorist organization known as the Knights of Saint Lazarus. This group..."

The visuals were mortifying, but EJ couldn't tear her eyes away. An entire housing complex burned to ash, just like that: the rubble was little more than a soot-filled crater. The police couldn't even cordon it off, because firefighters were tackling the blaze surrounding it - footage was being taken by drone, showing some brave or foolhardy souls (relatives, most likely) digging through the ash and cinders, trying to find any remnants of their loved ones or belongings. It was no use. Oranges flashed and soot rose like a hateful mist from the burn-site, a black stain on Vitus's filthy canvas, the bonfire of buildings and souls calling out as a beacon into the nighttime sky. EJ guessed if she went outside right now, she could probably see it piercing the smog.

And then, the perpetrators: the Knights of Saint Lazarus. A militant radical group of the venerable Order of Saint Lazarus, a Catholic Chivalric Order dedicated to helping the sick and needy, especially lepers, the Knights were not cut from the same benevolent and non-violent cloth. Waging a war of terror against the second-living of Vitus, they believed this to be the natural next step of their call to 'cure disease', the disease being undeath, the cure being eternal rest. Images of their colours and their uniforms flashed across the screen: white shield with green cross, emblazoned with a simple sword dripping a single drop of blood made their sigil; dark black combat armor, accentuated with full-encasement LED helmets made up their raiment (sometime with capes bearing their crest). To the second-living, these were the faces of true death - to fall at their hands meant no more chances.

"...ousand dead, with approximately three-hundred still missing. This is the third attack this month, with citizens asking both VPD and Tsang Solutions Securi-techs: when will it end? When will we strike back, and protect our own from these violent and hate-driven attacks? Vitus is known as a city where those untethered by life's cruel grasp can be free to live and find the pursuit of happiness, so how can we stand idly by as our very ideals, values, and populace are threatened so callously? This is Martin Thurgstrome, signing off."

EJ felt a new roiling in her stomach - one of revulsion, and anger, and fear. This was a group that not only hated her, but one that would kill her, permanently, given the chance. To slay a second-living is no easy feat; their bodies are extremely durable and can regenerate from major trauma that would easily slay a true-living. The most notable way is fire, as flame-damaged flesh requires rapid surgical intervention to prevent permanent damage; after fire is drowning, and then finally, complete liquefaction (ideally through acid). Some second-living did choose to end their own eternal lives, with euthanasia and liquefaction being paired for a painless complete-death.

"-y bitch! What the hell do you want to eat?!"

Esper James snapped out of her morbid reverie to see the waitress from before staring at her, balled fist on her hip, the other one holding her phone. She popped her gum even louder than before, thin eyes narrowing at EJ, chewing with her mouth open.

"Oh! O-Oh, uh, shit, uh... the teriyaki-bourbon crispy beef, please. With a side of those sesame sinewdles." EJ offered a sheepish false smile, her nerves still frayed from the considerations of death, now splayed further by confrontation. She could feel what little blood remained rushing to her cheeks as embarassment crushed over her, the tumultuous torture within her tummy now ceased by her bashful nature. She wondered how long she had been staring at the screen, zoning out...

"Tch. Ok. It'll be out in a bit. You want a drink?" The young woman cocked her head to the side, sass rippling through her very being; she raised a single pierced brow as she made work upon her wad of gum with no care for the sounds it made.

"Ah, yeah. You got grape shochu?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Only got Tsang brand. I'll bring it out in a sec; we don't have cups, though, so you get the can." And then she was strutting away, her hips swaying with every step, the phone she used to take EJ's order switched to the red-white-gold homepage of tAsT.

Oh, fuck. That's right. Now that she had some time, EJ's mind snapped back to the gifts from Purity: the gift-card, the codes, and the collar choker. Might as well use this lull in the action to investigate. Out came that tAsT code, entered into the 'SEARCH FOR SNAX' function first. No dice; she was shown an empty cardboard meal box, with a sad-looking monster (the site's mascot) rubbing it's empty stomach. Undeterred, she tried the 'FIND A FEED' section, holding her breath as it loaded and refreshed. This time she yielded results: a Feed, or chat server, called 'Purity's Princesses'. It looked pretty normal, and only had a few users. A mystery solved, though to a pretty blaise result.

However, EJ noticed something - she was instantly assigned a new role on the server as a moderator, or 'Feeder'. Multiple channels appeared after a moment with a multitude of purposes, most of which were mundane, though a few under the 'Purity's Fave's Only' section were strangely named: LDG_Links, Food_Links, and the ominously named HUNGRY_HELP. These chats EJ was unable to access, locked and barred behind a jail-wall motif, their names greyed out. After tossing a greeting into the social channels of the server, she popped back to her browser.

She typed the next lead into her phone: LDG.com. Loading... Loading... Loading... A black screen with white trim appeared, with various boxes displaying womens' faces and usernames all across it. Many appeared to be 'live', though there was no explanation or even notion of what they may be streaming. A section for a code was in the left side, one of the only interactive parts of the site - she entered in the jumble of text Puri had written for her, and when she pressed enter, all the faces-in-boxes disappeared. All save for one, with a bright pink hime cut, streaming out of her grey-walled, cream-carpeted bedroom. Purity.

Just as EJ was about to click it to see what was going on, there was a clearing of throats. She looked up to see the woman who had taken her order staring at her with mild distaste, arms crossed. Behind her was a man of similar age but about a foot taller, nearly 6'3, carrying a large platter of food: a heaping fake porcelain bowl filled with dark brown beef strips dripping with sauce, a just-as-enormous bowl of steaming orange broth, and a can of grape TSANG-A1 shochu. She slipped the phone into her purse, gut just about roaring at the sight of sustenance, her face contorted into a polite smile.

"Here's your food. Enjoy it, or whatever. And stop growling at the table, you fucking weirdo, you're scaring the other customers."

The plates and drink were set down wordlessly; as soon as it was dispensed, the pair returned to whatever dark hole they had crawled from. EJ was left alone with her lunch-dinner, the urge to feed nearly prompting her to take the candied beef in her hands and eat it directly. Chopsticks were quickly procured from a paper packet, snapped apart, and stuck into the first bowl. Her stomach nearly wept with joy at the very sight of it: thin strips of beef, marinated then fried in corn starch before being mixed with hoisin sauce, green onions, a splash of peanut oil, and a touch of salt and red pepper flakes for an extra kick. It was sweet and tangy, a dark molasses-like flavour with savoury hints, the umami of the beef and hoisin acting as sticky bricks to build up a house of tastebud tantalization. The green onions and salt broke it up just enough that you wanted another one as soon as you had finished the previous, and Esper James could feel herself sobbing gently into the meal as she sated her infernal flesh-craving.

After plowing halfway through the beef, she swapped to the noodles. The broth smelled like a raging fire for one's tastebuds, but it burned so good: sharp lime, striking chile, subtle notes of creamy sage, savory MSG, and floating globules of nutty, scalding-hot sesame oil combined to form a brutal elixir. The shrimp broth base helped give the noodles (made from vigorously repurposed sinew to resemble rice vermicelli) a meaty undertone along with the other inflections, drawing it all together to become a wholly delectable option for one who consumed the meat of beasts alone.

Her shochu... was grape-flavored. And alcoholic. And a bit cold, but it could've been colder. She was satisfied with that, though; no need for a can of artificial grape booze to be notable or breathtaking. The meat was the star, anyways.

She took to the meal like a wildfire to drybrush, her petite body seemingly too small to consume it all, and yet piece after slurp after gulp rattled down her windpipe with such speed and racket as to shame a stone dropped down a well. The meal was finished in record time; when she was finally free to wipe her lips with the cloth napkin provided, she was mortified to see that some fellow butchery-goers had stopped paying attention to their own viddles to observe her assault on hunger. A timid wave sent them all back to their own meals, but she couldn't shake the feeling they weren't just watching her because she had a big meal. Was it because she was, well, you know...?

Whatever. Who cared? Other than her, of course.

-

Esper James strode back out into the nighttime air with a renewed outlook on life, smiling from ear to ear, browsing over her phone. She had already paid for her food, and so she now had the full night ahead of he- oh, fuck.

10 calls, 17 texts from Judas. Oh fuck. Heart-in-throat she found a side-alley to duck into, phone raised to her ear and held in a trembling grasp. Judas was going to eat her alive for this. She hadn't purposefully ignored her, but... Her day had been so busy. So distracting. She had slept in late, had breakfast and made love with a beautiful woman, been, uh... scared by the news... had a big dinner...

Shit. Maybe she hadn't been busy all day. As she contemplated what excuse she'd use, the phone was picked up, and a very uncharacteristically frantic vampire picked up. Her breath was hitched and unsteady, and her tone was wary - worried, even. Concerned.

"Uh... E-Esper? Esper James? Fuck, are you ok? Did you see the news - I, uh, I think that fire hit your apartment building. Please tell me you're alright. I've been... I've been trying to contact you all day. I heard the explosion, you know; it was a few blocks down from my gym..."

EJ was taken aback. Judas was worried about her. Not just minor worry; she was distraught. She thought EJ had been injured, or worse, killed. The fact that her apartment may be fuel for terroristic arson was filed to the back of her brain for now; she had other matters to attend to first and foremost, like calming down her employer and assuring her she was very much un-alive and very much ok.

"Judas! Yes, Judas, I-I'm ok! I'm fine. I'm fine. I was, well, I was out with a friend; we stayed out all night. I spent the night at her place. I'm ok, though, I promise - no burns, no cuts, no liquid, nothing. I'm all in one piece." EJ tried to smile as she spoke, the gesture carrying through to her intonation - the sound of her smile, reassuring and warm, did seem to help her worried taskmistress. Judas sighed with weary relief, clearing her throat away from the phone before responding.

"Shit... Ok, good. Perfect. You know I need you, EJ. It would be so hard to replace you. Where are you now? I'll send you some cash to relocate, or at least get a hotel room. Here, I've already put the transfer in; don't worry about it, I'll only take a portion of it out of your pay, my treat. I'll see you on Monday. If you end up needing anything else, well..."

Judas was silent. EJ was silent. They languished together in that long, awkward pause, one waiting for the other, the other waiting for something. Judas finally continued, nearly under her breath, as if embarrassed of the very assistance which she now offered.

"...just let me know. Call me. I'm your boss, but that means I've got to take care of you. Tsang cares about it's employees more than some people appreciate, and the same goes for you. Now, I've got something I need to do, but I'll keep in contact, ok? Make sure you sleep somewhere safe tonight. Those fucking crazies are probably still out there."

Click. No goodbye; that was very Judas. She was always bad at friendship, at intimacy, at kindness; this whole interaction had been uncharacteristic in the extreme. EJ sighed a deep sigh, the weight of her diaphragm like lead in her chest - everything was happening so fast. Was her apartment actually burnt to a crisp? All her stuff... All her clothes... Everything she owned, up in smoke. It was enough to make her knees weak, and she stumbled deeper down the alley, trying to be away from the light and noise of the streets and stores.

It's a few hours before EJ pushes off of the wall she had been leaned on, dissociating, lamenting her own luck. Every time something went right, two things went wrong; she felt like crying, like calling out for help. She knew no one would come.

After a bit, she called a cab to take her home, or at least as close as she could go. The police presence had lessened now, down to the central fire only; most outlying fires had been extinguished. Her own apartment, the Kehler Complex, looked as though it had seen war. Whole rooms were exposed to the elements, walls were crumbling in some places, and the wounded or dying lay around wherever they could to get free of the devastation. The 25'th floor (approximately) looked somewhat in-tact - that was where Esper James' apartment had been. Where it may still be. She just had to get there. Some hope flickered in her tender heart like a candle's flame, just barely daring to believe she may not be so fucked as she believed.

Walking this street wasn't so friendly as it had been last night, when all the night-goers were out; tonight it was sparse and dark, the explosion damaging the electrical connection for many of the nearby streetlights. Once more, EJ felt that same old fear of walking the sidewalk, alone and unattended; the knife at her thigh was little comfort in this pitch-black night. She slipped through byways and alleys she knew by heart, her common shortcuts on a daily commute, and was nearly to the foot of the building when a hand reached out and clamped itself on her shoulder.

"Hello, little lamb. I've been looking for you."

EJ screamed, whipping around, stumbling away from the hand and it's owner. In the moonlight, her ghoulish eyes could just make out the figure: the guy from the bar, the one who had confronted her when she first sat down. She barely remembered him; he seemed to remember her.

Greasy black hair slicked-back, thin moustache trimmed to a point, he looked as though he wished he were a rockabilly but settled on sexual predator. A vicious maw of lovely teeth was accentuated with four sharp, bestial fangs - the mark of a vampire. Of her better. Her superior. What she was supposed to be, but had failed at that, too. A forked tongue rolled out to lick his lips as he leered, his comparably imposing body looming over hers.

"Oh, that's what he called you, right? The bartender. Roth, I think. I don't really go to shitholes like the Jezze a whole lot, but, well... Every once in a while, I get lucky. See something pretty. Something that catches my eye."

Dull horror formed a pit in EJ's stomach. She had assumed it was the man who bought her a drink, or even Puri, who had drugged her; even Roth seemed more likely somehow, this man who she had only met in bitter passing an unexpected variable. Had he been waiting here? Searching for her? Hoping she was still weak and tired from whatever he put in her drink? She was still a bit weak, to be sure, and that hunger she had felt...

He took a step forwards, just one, but EJ flinched as though she had been struck. She scrabbled away, pushing herself with palms and heels, fight-or-flight kicking in; she had chosen flight. As she bumped into a trashcan she yelped again, inspiring her aggressor to mocking laughter. A shaky hand flew to her thigh to produce the steel blade, holding it out towards him, though it was futile. He was a vampire; a steel knife against one of the blood-drinking ilk was like a match to a raging flood. He stepped closed, and closer, his feet now on either side of her knees as she wept and shook her knife.

"S-STAY AWAY FROM ME! I... I-I'll scream rape! I've got a whistle in my purse, you fucking piece of shit! You h-h-had better back off r-right... right... right now...!"

She trailed off pathetically, the man above her still smiling, still laughing, still leering. Her words meant nothing. Her threats were hollow. She was at the mercy of a cruel stranger, despite her own strength and instincts; this was a new and fresh hell, a terror before unexperienced, a plight that plumbed the depths of despair which the secretary had never considered.

"I've been looking for you, y'know... that pink-haired rave slut snatched you up for herself, warmed you up for me, but I've finally got you alone...~"

She knew what happened next; the object of her nightmares, the focal point of paranoid fantasies which had inspired the knife upon her hip in the first place. Vitus was a big city, and crime was rampant - there was no secret that predation occurred in all forms, from the eating of flesh to the stealing of innocence to the ending of lives, sometimes in combination. In desperation she struck out, stabbing this evil man in his shin, twisting the knife even as she sobbed and bawled.

"Agh! Bitch! You little fucking whore, you think you can just fucking get away with that!?" He flinched, but didn't draw away - undeath dulled physical pain, and a small knife wouldn't do anything more than pain to a vampire. As she tried to pull it out of his bone the man raised his opposite leg and drew it downwards, combat-boot clad foot smashing into Esper James' face. Her nose practically exploded in blood and pain and concussive force, rattling her brain and bruising her pale skin and splattering viscous red across her white blouse. He lifted his foot while EJ reeled, stomping down again, and again. Her hands flew in stunned, awkward motions, trying feebly to block his attacks; this wouldn't, couldn't kill her, but temporary damage was still damage. As the blows stopped she settled for sobbing into a bloodied mouth, spitting out a few chipped fangs amongst the goo, right eye already starting to swell.

"Fucker...! I'd say 'be a good girl and I'll go easy on you', but you've already missed your fucking chance on that one. But hey, look on the bright side - maybe with all that brain damage you won't remember anything! Hahaha- ow, shit..."

The man leaned down, ripping the knife free from his ankle and tossing it aside. As he knelt down, there was a ruffling sound - through bleary eyes, Esper James saw something black drop from a fire escape above the pair of them. There was a steely rasp, metal-on-metal; the man snapped to a stand, vampiric senses alerting him to the unseen danger, whirling around with inhuman speed, ready to throw a punch at whoever or whatever interrupted his evening plans. For a mere human it would be nearly impossible to dodge, much less properly respond to; if they were struck by it's full force, it would be devastating.

There was a whisper of static in the air, and then a crackling, and then a blaze of pale white light. A long and shining blade rippled through the dark night air like a vengeful moonbeam, electricity arcing off of it with all the constrained fury of a caged beast, feral and hateful. Silver found flesh, and spite turned to abject horror for the man as his hand was bisected between two knuckles, undead skin condemned to true death by Tesla's gift as the blade shimmered through flesh like butter. The blade lodged between radius and ulna, wedged into his humerus - the man had a moment to howl in agony and horror before the sword's wielder slammed their free hand into the outside edge of his forearm, snapping the bone and knocking the blade free.

It sliced through dead flesh to flense the would-be abuser, silver length glowing with lightning imbued. The blade was wound back overhead now, the vampire's eyes flashing with every emotion EJ had been going through in but a moment - he only had time to sputter out a brief shriek before his head was split in twain, foul black blood half-cauterized from electric heat, brain matter and skull shards making up the confetti of God's most pitiful pinata. The sword drew free as his body slumped to the ground, slowly leveled towards the dazed ghoulette.

Esper James could only raise her hands feebly, a lone sob making its way from her sore, choked-up windpipe. She had already begun to recuperate - a ghoul's body was the most resilient of all, and had an enviable healing factor - but she was nowhere near fit or lucid enough to combat an attacker of any sort. The fear of true death clutched her by the viscera, her whole unlife seeming to slow down. For a brief second, she wondered if it was better this way. She had never been good at this, at life. Obviously luck wasn't in her favor.

Maybe this was for the best.