Realistic or Modern Modern Vampires - IC

[Mitheral]

Sean Reed​

Jul 16, 2022 Saturday
0200 AM

Sean groaned as the light filtered in through the windows of his condo. His mind was fuzzy as to how he got home. He wasn’t the sort to drink - at least not heavily. He took too good a care of his health for that. He wouldn’t have driven home under the influence. Anytime he was going to drink he always handed over his keys. And he was naked.

His senses were dialed up to an 11. His sense of smell told him that he was clean - as in bathed. An instant later he realized it had been with the observation of some Japanese customs. Instead of aftershave or any other American scents, his scent had been covered up. It was weird that he could tell.

His vision and hearing told a much more shocking story. He had had the windows treated with programmable smart tint. For privacy he normally kept the windows darkened. But even with the polarized effects it still struck him as unusually bright for this time of night. In the distance he could hear cats yowling, dogs barking, and an occasional car moving down the street. As much as his senses were bothering him he pushed his concerns to the back of his mind. He staggered to his bedroom to get a change of clothes.

He was just finishing getting dressed when he noticed the time. 0230 - in the morning. He walked over to his computer and checked the date. Okay, nothing weird there. He had lost an evening, not a week or anything like that.

Had he been roofied?

He found his clothes. Then he found his wallet. It looked like everything was there. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He had been dropped off at home, cleaned up. He wondered how many people it took to carry him. Then he wondered how they got past security. His fees paid for site security.

Still a bit weirded out he stepped out to the elevator and rode it down to the garage. His car was there. He opened it up and looked around. Then he spotted something. It was a strand of hair. Black, long, straight. A woman had been in his car - recently. And he hadn’t had one in his car that he knew of. Fingerprints - fresh - were on the passenger side. The fact that he could see them was shocking. Granted is was hard to see detail. He would have needed to raise them with something.

The roofie theory was starting to look better

 

[EliMay]

Amanda Green
Jul 16, 2022 Saturday
0530 AM

Amanda grimaced as she shielded herself from the slight rays of light breaking through the dark sky. Quickly getting up to check her surroundings, she noticed almost instantly that she was inside her car in the backseat. Not remembering how she got there or what happened the night before, she opened the door and stepped out. Feeling the few rays of sunshine that was out she felt hot and uncomfortable, to say the least. Before she could figure out why the small sunrise was bothering her so much, she got into her driver's seat and started her car.

While driving down the road toward her house, she noticed that she could see very small details on her windshield that she may have not noticed before. Like the tiny chip in front of her. Not to mention there seemed to be screaming sirens around her that made her think they were right on top of her. Quickly getting irritated, she stepped on the pedal and pushed to get home as soon as possible.

Pulling into her driveway, she hit her garage door opener and pulled the small Kia into the run-down garage. She got out and hit the button again to close the door. As the door closed she heard the small noises of the gears grinding in the motor of the garage door. Pushing inside her home, she closed the door behind her and lean against is. What the heck was going on? It's like waking up hungover yet I don't remember taking a sip to drink.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Ginny Ruiz
July 16, 2022
0425 AM

Ginny groaned as her head lifted from the pavement, a painful throbbing felt just behind her eyes.

"Dios mio..." It must have been one hell of a night. Glancing around, the young woman took note of the buildings closed off on either side of her, their roofs nearly touching overhead. What had happened last night? As much as she tried to remember, nothing came to mind. It took a bit more effort than she would have liked to admit, but after a few moments of laying face down in silence, Ginny forced herself to sit up. The main street was just a couple of feet from the alleyway, and to her left a chain fence blocked any other route. Sounds of distant car horns, sirens, and even the smell of wet dog overtook her senses almost immediately.

Plugging her nose, she managed to stumble her way out onto the street, where not even the beginning of daybreak showed. Hangovers were rough, but had they always been this bad? Again, almost nothing came to her except a strong desire to get another hit of what she had been dealing. You weren't supposed to use what you sold, of course, but it had been right there and... the deal. Had she made it on time? Feeling inside her pockets, the only thing she retrieved were her car keys and phone. Where was her car? What time was it? As her phone screen lit up to display the lock screen photo of her and Michael, she nearly dropped everything. The light was blinding, which only caused her head to scream in protest at the sudden intrusion. Ok, get home and get some water. A game plan.

With this the only thought in her mind, she began the search for her little red Ford. It only took about 20 minutes of aggravated huffs and curses until the familiar flower stickers on a red bumper caught her eye. Wasting no time, she hopped in and made her way home, which thankfully was only a few blocks from her location. The headlights of oncoming traffic and streetlamps were enough to make her puke. Had Michael waited up for her? What would he say? She clearly wasn't in a state to hide... whatever had happened. Praying to anyone who would listen that her fiance had gone to bed, Ginny drove the rest of the way in a state of blind confusion and panic. To say the least, it wasn't a good time. Ginny had the decent sense to park in the alleyway behind the house before sneaking her way inside.

Whether Michael was beginning to have breathing problems was beyond her, but the first thing she noticed as she stepped through the doorway were his even, yet oddly loud, breaths in their bedroom. He was sleeping, thank god. Making her way to hit the shower, she grabbed a bottle of water and began devising a reason to give Michael on why she had been out so late... or early. The time was still unclear. Hopefully a nice warm shower would get rid of what she could only imagine was the look of a disheveled drug addict. Fingers crossed.

 

[Mitheral]

Cody Li Greyfeather​

Jul 16, 2022 Saturday
0400 hrs

They had tried to leave the problems of gang activities behind in New Orleans. But it seemed as if every city had its share of trouble. His mother had wanted to recapture the grandeur of Cajun Asian. His Uncle had decided to invest some of his own money into the move and had paid for the move of the employees. But part of the move had been to get Cody into college. Toward that end his uncle had insisted on getting Cody his own place not far from the University of Minnesota.

Friday had been a weird night he had found himself waking up at home with no clue how he had got there. His senses had been going crazy. Then in the morning he had discovered that he could no longer tolerate daylight. It was summer, so he had been trying to work, but his uncle had told him to take the summer off. Enjoy being young for a change.

But he knew that the food court was headed for trouble. He had spotted gang bangers hanging out near the place. They had discovered that the food court was a great place to make their sales. He had little faith in the police. But he also had a hatred of gangs. He made the one mistake one should never make. He had locked eyes with a dealer and held the stare for far too long.

Now he remembered. Friday night his car had been vandalized. Tires slashed. Graffitied. He couldn’t remember what happened after that. He had woken up at home with all the symptoms of a vampire. Heightened senses, aversion to sunlight.

So how had he gotten home? His uncle? Probably. Probably towed his car to the garage. They should have just closed the garage. But out of some loyalty to his grandfather they had kept that business open.

He spotted the helmets on the table in his kitchenette / dining room area. Now he knew. His uncle had left his LS 218. Crap. His uncle NEVER parted with that thing. He had modified it heavily to extend its range. But the thing was a deathtrap. Fastest commercially available motorcycle - electric. The 218 was its speed during some competition. THAT was exactly why he was surprised.

Well, he did have some business to take care of…

 

[Mitheral]

Sean Reed​

Sean decided not to go for the drive. Instead he took the hair and placed it in a sample bag. Then he went back down and raised some fingerprints and snapped high resolution photos. Once his detective work was done he decided to go for a walk. For the life of him he couldn’t think of a single ailment that had symptoms of enhanced senses. Stuffed sinuses? Ringing in ears? Watery eyes? Sure.

It wasn’t until near sunrise that he realized just how wrong things were. He was lucky that the weather that morning called for scattered thunderstorms. He was back in his condo when the sun came up. By that time he had set the sunscreen level to maximum and drawn the blinds. When the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds he got his first taste of how wrong things were.

No, he wouldn’t be calling 9-1-1. The first responders could end up killing him in the ambulance ride.

******

Once upon a time Sean had founded a small group of vigilantes. They were more of a club. His friends had talked the talk, practiced their skills. But when it came to action they fell short. Most of them didn’t take things seriously, like protecting secret identities. So he had walked away and moved to Minnesota. He still had most of his old gear though.

Sunset wouldn’t be until 2100 (9 PM). So he spent a few hours searching the internet for information about symptoms of vampirism. Most of what he found was role play nonsense, or Hollywood crap. The closest thing he found was information about porphyria. But something told him that this was something new.

So he made plans to head out as soon as it was safe. His plans were simple. Test his senses. Try not to act like Bela Lugosi. Meet with a PI and have the fingerprints run. Monitor his police scanner for weird reports.

********

While he waited for night to return he decided to run some tests on himself based on popular lore. First he figured he should test for weaknesses and limitations.

Breathing. Was he undead? He didn’t FEEL dead. Online it said that average people could manage about 1 minute and 30 seconds, athletes maybe 4–5 minutes, and the world record was 11 minutes and 35 seconds. So he got a stopwatch, and took a seat on his favorite easy chair. He prepared himself as he normally would for such a test. He would definitely call himself an athlete. After ten minutes he could feel the strain becomeing unbearable - and that his body seemed ready to shut down. He was getting drowsy. Ten minutes was certainly a record for him. He recovered quickly.

Body temperature. There he was surprised. He was running a temperature of 101 F. Not exactly what one would expect of the undead. It was entirely possible that his body was still undergoing changes.

Strength. Well, he definitely had the equipment to test that. He had a personal gym and dojo that would make the average professional jealous. He avoided rushing and went through an accelerated workout, building in lifting capacity. He was just getting to the point of straining when the weights suddenly became lighter as his body started to feel energized. He felt his blood pounding, coursing through his body. His muscles were being fed nutrients at an accelerated pace. On a whim he increased the load by 50% and tried again. Tough but doable. He tried again at 75%. Harder, but he managed. He figured he could probably manage twice his usual lift, but stopped there.

Speed. He moved over to his running track. Online it said males could run at an average speed of 8 mph, and women at an average speed of 6.5 mph. People running for their lives, not for recreational purposes, could run at an average speed of 12 mph. Athletes and gym enthusiasts tended to be faster than the average person and could run at a speed as high as 14 to 17 mph. Pushing himself he clocked in at 30 mph. He was running twice his usual pace. He laughed, finding the results hysterical when he looked again online.

The record was 44.72 km/h (27.78 mph), measured between meter 60 and meter 80 of the 100 meters sprint at the 2009 World Championships in Athletics by Usain Bolt. (Bolt's average speed over the course of this race was 37.58 km/h or 23.35 mph.)

He had just beaten the world record.

It was safe to say that he could amplify his physical abilties considerably. But at what cost? These were short burts of enhancement. If he truly was vampiric, then it stood to reason that he would eventually need to drink blood. God, he hoped not. His hopes were soon dashed when breakfast made him ill. Everything he ate came right back up. That increased body temperature? His intestines were probably shrinking.

 

[Mitheral]

Sean Reed​

Sean decided not to go for the drive. Instead he took the hair and placed it in a sample bag. Then he went back down and raised some fingerprints and snapped high resolution photos. Once his detective work was done he decided to go for a walk. For the life of him he couldn’t think of a single ailment that had symptoms of enhanced senses. Stuffed sinuses? Ringing in ears? Watery eyes? Sure.

It wasn’t until near sunrise that he realized just how wrong things were. He was lucky that the weather that morning called for scattered thunderstorms. He was back in his condo when the sun came up. By that time he had set the sunscreen level to maximum and drawn the blinds. When the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds he got his first taste of how wrong things were.

No, he wouldn’t be calling 9-1-1. The first responders could end up killing him in the ambulance ride.

******

Once upon a time Sean had founded a small group of vigilantes. They were more of a club. His friends had talked the talk, practiced their skills. But when it came to action they fell short. Most of them didn’t take things seriously, like protecting secret identities. So he had walked away and moved to Minnesota. He still had most of his old gear though.

Sunset wouldn’t be until 2100 (9 PM). So he spent a few hours searching the internet for information about symptoms of vampirism. Most of what he found was role play nonsense, or Hollywood crap. The closest thing he found was information about porphyria. But something told him that this was something new.

He pulled the video from his car’s security system. His car was one of those luxury cars that had forward and rear video. He ran through the video at high speed and was surprised to discover there was some pretty damned interesting footage. It told the story of where all he had been.

As it turned out there were at least three other victims, a young man and two women. And it looked as though the perpetrators of his situation were a man and woman of Middle Eastern origins. The young man was Native American. One of the women was a young blonde. Nothing extraordinary that he could see. If anything she was dressed so as not to draw attention in a rougher neighborhood. That, or she worked in retail somewhere. Hard to tell. The older woman had long, jet black hair, quite attractive, dressed like she might work in an office. Classy.

He paused the video and clipped images of their faces from various angles as best he could. Something told him not to bundle the faces of the Elders with this batch of images. Then he bundled the photos into a gallery folder, compressed and encrypted the data. Then he called a PI that he knew.

“I have a rush job. Can you handle it? Discreet. No questions asked.” Sean explained calmly.

“How soon ..?”

“By tonight if you can,” Sean suggested.

“Four? Maybe if they have a decent footprint. Otherwise, ..”

“Do your best. Triple your usual rates. Double up for each one you ID by tonight.” There was silence on the other end for a moment. Sean spoke again. “48. That’s the number you are looking for. Why don’t we make it an even 50?”

Hourly prices ranged from $70-$100 per hour for a PI. Sean had asked for discretion and a rush job. $200 per hour was not unexpected. Ten hours would be $2000 … times 50 … $100,000. He was good for it and the man knew it. Sean just hoped this was worth it.

********

While he waited for night to return he decided to run some tests on himself based on popular lore. First he figured he should test for weaknesses and limitations.

Breathing. Was he undead? He didn’t FEEL dead. Online it said that average people could manage about 1 minute and 30 seconds, athletes maybe 4–5 minutes, and the world record was 11 minutes and 35 seconds. So he got a stopwatch, and took a seat on his favorite easy chair. He prepared himself as he normally would for such a test. He would definitely call himself an athlete. After ten minutes he could feel the strain becoming unbearable - and that his body seemed ready to shut down. He was getting drowsy. Ten minutes was certainly a record for him. He recovered quickly.

Body temperature. There he was surprised. He was running a temperature of 101 F. Not exactly what one would expect of the undead. It was entirely possible that his body was still undergoing changes.

Strength. Well, he definitely had the equipment to test that. He had a personal gym and dojo that would make the average professional jealous. He avoided rushing and went through an accelerated workout, building in lifting capacity. He was just getting to the point of straining when the weights suddenly became lighter as his body started to feel energized. He felt his blood pounding, coursing through his body. His muscles were being fed nutrients at an accelerated pace. On a whim he increased the load by 50% and tried again. Tough but doable. He tried again at 75%. Harder, but he managed. He figured he could probably manage twice his usual lift, but stopped there.

Speed. He moved over to his running track. Online it said males could run at an average speed of 8 mph, and women at an average speed of 6.5 mph. People running for their lives, not for recreational purposes, could run at an average speed of 12 mph. Athletes and gym enthusiasts tended to be faster than the average person and could run at a speed as high as 14 to 17 mph. Pushing himself he clocked in at 30 mph. He was running twice his usual pace. He laughed, finding the results hysterical when he looked again online.

The record was 44.72 km/h (27.78 mph), measured between meter 60 and meter 80 of the 100 meters sprint at the 2009 World Championships in Athletics by Usain Bolt. (Bolt's average speed over the course of this race was 37.58 km/h or 23.35 mph.)

He had just beaten the world record.

It was safe to say that he could amplify his physical abilities considerably. But at what cost? These were short bursts of enhancement. If he truly was vampiric, then it stood to reason that he would eventually need to drink blood. God, he hoped not. His hopes were soon dashed when breakfast made him ill. Everything he ate came right back up. That increased body temperature? His intestines were probably shrinking.

********

Sean got the text about 6 in the afternoon. It simple said, “Check email.”

The Email (compressed and encrypted)
“Cody Li Greyfeather. Lots of interactions with police back in New Orleans. College student at U of M. Address, phone number, etc. Last job was as a chef at Cajun Asian. The restaurant just moved up here. Possible helicopter parents. Then again, the business was having troubles back in the French Quarter. Organized crime.

“Genevieve Ruiz, Ginny for short. She’s a local girl. Part time student. Struggling in college. Dancing as a strong hobby or career interest - or was. Debt issues with college and dancing lessons. Might have some legal issues. Her payments don’t add up with her income. But it also looks like she has a fiancé named Michael. Still, I don’t think he could afford to bail her out. Looks like she might be getting rehab help. There’s a DUI a while back. Address, phone number, etc.

“Amanda Green. This was a tough one. Foster care kid. No records prior to age 14. Studied hard in school. Scholarship - that’s how I found her. BS in Business
Associate in Psychology and working on getting a higher degree. Intern at Martin Enterprises. The CEO at Martin personally signed for her scholarship. I did a little digging. Turns out the man lost his wife about 20 years ago. Here is a wedding photo. Also address, phone number, etc.”

The last woman did indeed resemble the man’s late wife.

***********

​

Jul 16, 2022 Saturday
2000 (8 PM) About an hour before sunset.

Sean hopped on his phone and set up a four way phone call. He could only hope they would all answer. Once they started to respond he told them to hang on as this was a multi way call. He was handling the charges - and it involved the events of the previous night - a shared experience.

“Not over the phone. We need to meet in person. I have some information about last night. It isn’t much. But if I am right, we need to talk and fast. Do any of you need a lift? I can send an Uber. I can pick you up in person. Up to you.”

Pipsqueak EliMay

 

[Pipsqueak]

Ginny Ruiz
July 16, 2022
6:38 AM

"Lord god smite me."

Ginny wasn't religious by any means, but if what little faith, however small, might be present she needed it to work now. Similar prayers had been uttered past thin lips numerous times, some on much more serious occasions. As whatever ailed her seemed to come in nauseating waves, her annoyance and pain only increased. The passing car lights just outside closed blinds were almost too bright, as if each driver had some personal vendetta and came to shine a thousand spotlights directly into their home. Sounds she had never noticed before- the humming electricity throughout the neighborhood, whispered arguments in neighboring houses- it all flooded her senses. Still, she refused to wake Michael, partly in fear of the conversation she knew was coming and partly out of guilt, so she sat in front of the bathroom mirror. Her curly blond hair, still wet from the shower, clung to her frail features, making her look more like a scared kitten than the predator she was not aware she was becoming. Dried mascara ran down over her bruised, sunken eyes and down her cheeks. She really needed to wash that off before Michael woke up...

8:02 AM

The sounds of her fiance stirring woke her from an uneasy rest. She was still huddled on the bathroom floor when a groggy "Ginny?" came just outside the door.

"Y-yea, sorry! Be out shortly, just... uh, give me a sec!" Scrambling unsteadily to her feet, Ginny quickly wiped the smeared makeup with the palm of her hand before unlocking the door. She gave Michael a small wave, but he only met her pathetic greeting with a frown.

"What time did you get home last night Gin? I waited up until, like, two in the morning. You told me you'd be home by 8 o'clock." Of course, this line of questioning was not the right one. Not right now.

"Maldito infierno, don't you start." She knew he had every right to be at least curious as to her whereabouts, but not even a greeting? Come on.

"I told you I went to see Michayla, did I not? We had some wine, I stayed a little later than expected. I'm sorry." It was the same bullshit response for months now, and it was clear the lie wasn't working anymore. With a huff, Michael stormed past her, clearly distracting himself with his morning routine for work.

"You did say that, actually. When are you going to start telling me the truth? You think I can't see what's happening? The late nights after classes, your short greetings when you come home from work? The only reason I haven't spoken to Michayla is because I know she'd cover for you. This is the same behavior when you were using."

"That doesn't mean any-"

"You're distancing yourself from your family again. From me. You're failing two classes Genevieve! You are so immature sometimes I-" Ginny groaned in response, running a hand through her hair.

"You just want me to be addicted so you can send me to rehab and be right about everything! You just need to be right all! The! Time! How do you even know about my classes anyways?" Once again, Michael was right about everything. She was being childish, but her ego left little room for spared feelings now. The rest of the morning went by with tense silence. Not an "I love you" or "Have a good day at work" was uttered between them before Michael left, leaving Ginny once again to sit in her own embarrassment and anxiety.

8 PM

When the call came Ginny had tried to lose herself in a book. She hadn't read a book on her own free will for years now, but it was the only thing she could think of doing that might distract her from reaching out to Michael. She had only gotten to chapter three when the ringing startled her.

"'Bout time you stubborn... Er, hello?" Without looking at the caller ID, Ginny expected to hear her fiance's terse voice. Instead, an unknown man began relaying information at a speed that Ginny was not ready for. The call was brief, but the voice was expectant.

"You know, this is the kinda shit cops say." The response came out harsher than she meant it, but after brief hesitation she added, "I can drive." If this was a cop- and she was betting there was at least a 98% chance- she'd at least be ready. Michael couldn't bail her out, but that was probably for the best. He wouldn't anyway, not with the conversation from this morning. That was fine. Maybe they could help if no one else was willing.

 

[Mitheral]

Cody Li Greyfeather

Cody wasn’t in the mood for chit chat. His plans for the evening had more to do with confronting some gangbangers and giving them a few lessons in martial arts. But even he had to admit his life had suddenly turned weird. He had the sunburn to prove it.

“I have a way there. Do you have anything to do with this?”

Sean replied. “I’m not sure. I am only a little less in the dark on this. Your phones may be tapped. I’m on a burner. The place you’ll be looking for is an old collision center with a secured lot. 2200 hrs. Don’t try to be too early. I don’t want the police bothering you. The place fixes up cars for a program like Car Angels. A lot of the cars are bought from police auctions. It’s a hobby.”