#at a certain point mars runs behind these curtains at the back of the stage and starts pole dancing with light behind him

[heartyearning]

Huge fan of attending the same performance over and over again until I get it right (aka find the perfect central perspective)

[uas-fics]

Title: A Hunter’s Humanity

Summary:  Tweek is keeping a big secret from his vampiric boyfriend: his history as a vampire hunter. But how long will Tweek be able to keep his charade up when a murderous vampire shows up in the city?

Ships: Creek

Rating: T

Other: Mild Gore and Blood

Inspired by @niamarmosha​ ’s vampire AU because dang does she make some good AUs.

~~~~~

Craig used to pretend to sleep until Tweek called him out on it.

“You’re a vampire. You don’t need to sleep.” Tweek had rolled his eye at him.

Craig fixed him with a perplexed expression as if Tweek had just told him something outrageous like cows could fly.

“You don’t want me to? Really? I’ve never met a human who doesn’t at least want me to pretend to be human for him.”

Tweek then wrinkled his nose. “You’re not human. Don’t pretend. I don’t like liars.”

So when Tweek rolled over in the bed and opened his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to see Craig awake, reading a half-folded newspaper with one hand while the other arm rested under Tweek’s shoulders.

“Sleep well?” He asked, moving his gaze over.

He held Tweek’s eyes with his own. The familiar pressure of someone trying to push into his brain pressed against the front of his skull for just a moment before Tweek nodded, sending it away.

“I did,” He replied, sitting up to stretch out. He didn’t scold Craig for trying to hypnotize him this morning, though he wanted to. How could he explain a farm boy from the sticks knowing what it felt like to have a vampire try to sway your thoughts? He couldn’t, so he had to let it slide.

“What time is it?” Tweek threw back the covers.  He planted his feet on the cool wood floor with a slight shiver. It was cold enough sleeping next to Craig, the fact that he rarely bothered to keep the fire going once it went out didn’t help keep Tweek warm when he stayed over.

“Don’t know. Noon-ish?” Craig muttered with clear disappointment in his voice. Tweek wondered, not for the first time if keeping him at the Moonlight was what Craig was attempting to him into doing.

“It better not be,” Tweek muttered, walking across the room to peak out the window. To his relief, it was only midmorning. The humans that lived and worked in the vampire heavy area were still getting started with their days.

Tweek nodded contently. He had plenty of time before he needed to head to Chef’s. Pulling the curtain back just enough for a small puddle of light to form on the floor, Tweek rolled his shoulders in his sockets. As was his ritual, Tweek spent the next few minutes warming up while Craig groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, muttering he was dating a cat.

Once he felt charged up enough, Tweek wandered over to Craig’s mirror.

All across his left shoulder and down his chest were a series of fresh hickies. Tweek clasped his hand over a few of them, glaring at the vampire under the blankets.

He’d asked him not to leave marks before. Everyone at Chef’s already thought Tweek had a boyfriend that he was keeping secret. This would just add fuel to that particular trash fire. Though that rumor was technically true, he would rather not have anyone there know who his boyfriend was.

Human and vampire relationships weren’t unheard of, but they had a certain social stigma that Tweek did not want to deal with from the humans he worked with. The vampires didn’t seem to care if one of their own was involved with a short-lived human. The reverse was not true. Humans always thought the vampire was just using the human. They were so simple minded that they couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept.

At least, the hickies weren’t any place he couldn’t hide and none of them broke the skin, either. Craig kept that promise. Though, Tweek was sure that was more because the laws of the city forbid vampire’s to drink human blood without their consent than on Tweek’s request.

As he twisted around to check if they went down his back (they did), Craig poked his head out of the blanket. He rested his cheek in his palm.

“Like them?” He asked coyly. “You should leave some on me next.”

Tweek took a brush and began to pull it through his mane. He didn’t know if it was his brush or Craig’s, and he didn’t care. The vanity was shared at this point.

“I try, but you heal too damn fast.” Tweek fished around the vanity for the small box of pins he brought to keep his growing bangs out from his face. Holding a few pins in his mouth, he started to pull back the pesky strand of hair that fell down the middle of his face.

Once he had it pulled back away, Tweek turned over his shoulder with a smirk. “I guess that just means I need to try a little harder next time.”

“Feel free. I’d love to have a love bite on my ass from you.” With a wickedly impish grin, he pointed a finger at Tweek’s posterior.

Flushing, Tweek bent around to check if Craig was teasing him or not. Of course, he wasn’t. Right there, in the dead center of his left buttcheek, a hickey marred his skin.

“I’ll get you back for this,” Tweek replied, snatching up his pants from the floor.

Craig laughed in the way he did where it sounded more like a chuckle with one final ‘ha’ after a last suck of breath. It was a sound that Tweek found frankly adorable.

It was almost unbelievable where Tweek was now. If someone had told him not a year ago he would be standing completely naked and vulnerable around a vampire like this, he would have accused that person of being mind controlled.

“Vampires are monsters! They kill people and tear them apart! I could never love one — if they can even feel love at all,” He would have said.

How times have changed.

Tweek finished buttoning up his trousers when Craig finally, begrudgingly, got out of bed. He had just slipped on his shirt and went to button it when Craig grabbed his hand. He kissed his knuckle before reaching out to button Tweek’s shirt for him.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Craig muttered. “I can pay for your room at Chef’s. You won’t need to work.”

He started at him intently through his eyelashes. Tweek couldn’t help but once again wonder if Craig were human, what color would his eyes be? Brown, maybe. It was such a common color. Green, though, was just eye-catching enough to match Craig’s features without offsetting them too much. Or maybe a nice middle ground like hazel?

“You know, I won’t have to go if you talked Jimmy into letting me stay here.” Tweek set his hands over the top of Craig’s and squeezed.

Craig sighed and finished the final button, but didn’t lower their hands.

“You know Jimmy’s rules. No humans unless they’re accompanied by a vampire at all times,” Craig intoned for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Unless he thinks that human can take care of himself,” Tweek added in. “I can handle any vampire that tries to mess with me.”

Craig gave him a look that reminded Tweek a little too much of the one a person would give a puppy when it started to bark at a flour sack or oddly shaped tree: amused by its foolish, pointless, and adorable bravery.

Though the feeling was patronizing, Tweek held his tongue. He didn’t actually want to move in, for the most part. He just assumed this is what he should do after being together this long.

If he moved in and his family found him, it would be difficult to leave, both physically and emotionally. Sneaking out past Jimmy and everyone else with all his things would be a pain and leaving Craig…

Tweek pushed that thought away before it made him sick with worry.

Craig wasn’t supposed to be important to him. The only reason Tweek reciprocated Craig’s flirting, in the beginning, was in spite towards his parents. If they knew his first kiss, and several other firsts, were with a vampire, they might disown him.

Tweek ended up in something a little deeper than a spite-fueled fling, instead, sinking into a full-on relationship with this vampire that he both loved and hated. He loved Craig. He could admit that at this point. He hated the guilt that gnawed at his stomach for lying.

There was no conceivable way Craig was invested enough in their relationship to overlook the fact Tweek was raised to be a vampire killing machine, who had a long bloodline of vampire killing machines behind him. If he found out, he would definitely be mad, maybe even mad enough to run Tweek out of town himself or just go out of his way to make Tweek’s life miserable or even kill him right out.

Whatever happened, if it happened, Tweek had promised himself he would accept any fate Craig would give him.

Craig pressed a kiss to Tweek’s cheek. “Sure you could, honey. Jimmy just doesn’t want to take a risk.”

“Just Jimmy, huh?” Tweek muttered, turning back towards the vanity again to make certain that none of the hickies could be seen. “It’s not because you tend to make enemies by being a complete jackass?”

Craig wrapped an arm around his shoulder. His face stared back from the cheap mirror. Like all the mirrors in the Moonlight Tavern, this one wasn’t back with silver, but some other common, reflective metal.

“You should have seen me in my jackass heyday.” Craig rested a cheek on Tweek’s hair, disrupting the carefully placed pins. “Pissed off vampires left and right. You caught me in one of the better stages of my life. Aren’t you sooooo lucky?”

“Not as lucky as you for meeting me,” Tweek teased, curling his fingers around Craig’s wrist. He lifted it and kissed it, peeking up to meet Craig’s eyes in the reflection. His face painted with a blush and he had to look away. Tweek’s lips twitched up into a smile.

As long as Craig never found out, Tweek didn’t mind living like this.

~~~~

The tavern was its normal buzz of daytime activity as the vampires of the town waited for nightfall. Craig, now dressed in his normal attire and cloak, had an arm slung over Tweek’s shoulders as they left his room.

Jimmy looked up from the book he was writing into with wave.

“‘M-morning, lovebirds.” He cracked a smile. “I’d ask if you slept well, buuuuut…we all know you didn’t sleep.”

“Tweek slept just fine,” Craig commented in a deadpan, taking a seat across the table. Tweek slipped beside him. He couldn’t stay for too long, but Jimmy was his friend, so a few moments of conversation couldn’t hurt.

“So did you t-t-tucker him out, Craig?” Jimmy’s grin threatened to split his face.

Craig buried his face in his hand with a groan and Tweek nearly did the same. When it came to Jimmy, very few jokes were off the table for him.

“Fuck off, Valmer,” Craig grumbled. Tweek set a hand on Craig’s free one and laced their fingers together. He didn’t like those jokes this early either, but he didn’t want to see Craig get into an argument right before he had to head to work.

Luckily, Jimmy ignored him. To Tweek he asked, “Are you heading back to Chef’s soon?”

Tweek nodded. “I have to do my work for my room.” He glanced at Craig to see if he was fixing Jimmy with the usual look of that meant that Jimmy better not give Tweek any ideas.

He was.

“Coming back afterwards?” Jimmy sent a smirk at Craig. “I know Craig doesn’t like to be lonely.”

“Once again, fuck you.” Craig flipped Jimmy off with his free hand.

“Well, could you do me a favor?” Jimmy leaned down to the side of the table. He pulled up a bag and set it on the tabletop. “Could you r-re-return these to Chef for me? There some of his pots, and I promised to get them back to him within the w-week.”

Tweek jumped from his seat. “Oh, shit, my bag.” Dropping Craig’s hand, he started towards Craig’s room. “Sure, I’ll bring them back, just give me a second.”

Tweek hurried into Craig’s room and looked around, his heart tightening, as he scanned for his bag. He hated the bag leaving his side, let alone leaving his bag here. It was too risky!

Finally, he spotted it kicked half under the bed. He stooped down and fished it out before unbuckling it to open.

Everything from his wallet to the small roll of bandages he kept for emergencies was still safely inside. Looking over his shoulder to make sure he was truly alone, Tweek stuck his hand in and felt the lining of his bag with his fingertips until they brushed the main reason he couldn’t leave it: A blessed knife.

The knife was the only item Tweek kept from his parents. It had been a much-asked-for birthday gift. Tweek was young when he asked for it and so terrified of vampires that he wanted something to defend himself that he could carry with him everywhere. Hand-to-hand melee had never been Tweek’s preferred method of hunting. Bows, guns, and other ranged weapons had always been his forte, but one stab from this would give Tweek all the time he needed to run away.

If he ever planned on using it again, which, he didn’t. The knife had seen use only one terrible time, and that was how it would stay.

This knife was not for protection anymore. It was a reminder of his mistakes now.

For a moment, that face flashed in his mind, red eyes wide and terrified and mouth twisted in pain.

Tweek shuddered as he buckled back up his bag.

Even within a vampire tavern, he was a sinner amongst saints.

~~~~~

“Here you are, Chef,” Tweek held out the bag Jimmy gave him. “From Jimmy.”

Chef took the bag and opened it. After checking inside, he nodded. “He even washed them. Such a good kid.”

Tweek was certain that Jimmy was far older than Chef, but he nodded back anyway.

“What do you need me to do?” Tweek asked instead.

Chef shut the bag before reaching up to stroke his beard. Tweek hoped it was something he could do by himself. Tweek didn’t trust people. They were worse than vampires, most of them. Liars, cheats, backstabbers. Vampires could claim that came by those naturally. Humans didn’t have such an excuse.

“Honestly, Tweek,” Chef shrugged, “you’ve only been here maybe two nights this whole week and you only stay long enough to sleep for a few hours. It’s not like you have much to work off.”

“You’re still holding the room for me.” Tweek frowned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Even if I’m not here, I’m still costing you.”

“I know. I know.” Chef raised his hands. “I’m just saying that maybe you should try to talk Jimmy into letting you stay at Moonlight with your boyfriend, or seeing if Craig can pay for you if it bothers you so much. Money’s money, no matter who pays.”

“I don’t—” Tweek was cut off by a wave of Chef’s hand.

“Jimmy likes to talk,” Chef explained.

As Tweek cursed Jimmy’s name, Chef went on, “Don’t you worry, Tweek. I’m not judging. I understand that vitality and vigor that vampires possess.” He got a dreamy, glazed expression across his face. “They can go all night and day and—”

“Chef, what do you want me to do?” Tweek cut in before Chef could go on.

He blinked a few times. “Well, you can help me clean the recently emptied rooms and later peel some potatoes. I’m making Salisbury steak with scalloped potatoes tonight.” He made a shooing motion with his hands before turning away, muttering to himself about a certain voluptuous vampire vixen he’d met once.

“Salsbury steak and scalloped potatoes…?” Tweek muttered. “Hmm, I might stick around for dinner before heading back tonight.”

~~~~

Craig leaned against the long bar, bored out of his mind. The sun shone high in the sky, leaving him and all the other tavern vampires trapped indoors. If only his hypnosis on Tweek had worked and he could have kept him here all day. At least then he’d have someone interesting to talk to.

Jimmy was too busy filling out the tavern’s ledgers to hold anything more than a three-second conversation. Token was off in another city, Clyde was out at sea, and every other vampire there held no interest to him.

Propping his chin in his palm, he groaned. He never understood why Tweek seemed to be immune to his hypnosis. Of all the vampires he knew, Craig was considered one of the best at charming humans into doing what he wanted.

But Tweek? Tweek’s mind was impossible to charm. Craig could never grab hold of a thought to twist and corrupt the others floating in Tweek’s head to his will. Even when trying to hypnotize Tweek into doing things he knew Tweek would want to do, it didn’t work.

The closest he got to controlling Tweek was planting a suggestion in his mind, that they should go for a walk near the pier, and having Tweek bring it up a week later out of the blue in the middle of a completely different conversation.

Though maybe he should be thankful he couldn’t bend Tweek to his beck and call. It made this relationship with a human one of the more interesting he’d had.

The door opened, instantly causing the vampires closest to it to recoil. Craig didn’t know why at first. Jimmy had a small awning built to keep the sun from coming in. Then the wind brought a scent to his nose and he cringed for a moment.

Half-vampire or not, the underlying scent that clung to all vampire hunters always came first.

Once everyone saw who it was, however, they relaxed. Kenny wasn’t one of the city vampire hunters who came into Moonlight to cause trouble. He probably wanted to try to and flirt his way back to one of the tavern’s bedrooms.

Kenny scanned the room before making a beeline to Jimmy and Craig’s table. He slapped his hand down.

Jimmy looked up for a moment.

“Yes?”

“I need a room,” Kenny stated, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t care if you stick me in the backroom with a pillow. I need to sleep.”

“Just go home,” Craig suggested bluntly. “You can stick to the shadows and be fine.”

“I would if I could,” Kenny snapped. Grumbling to himself, he reached into his coat to retrieve a sheet of paper, which he slipped over to Jimmy.

“I know you hate vampire police in your tavern, but if this vampire comes in, you have to call us. We–and by we, I mean ninety-fucking-percent I– have been tracking him for the past two and a half days.”

Now that Craig took a good look at him, Kenny did seem tired and worn out. The bags under his eyes were dark and his mouth was set in a permanent frown. How Kenny hadn’t fallen over from exhaustion, Craig wasn’t sure.

Jimmy took the paper and read it over. The crease between his brows grew deeper the more he read.

“This is quite the w-wanted poster.” Jimmy frowned. “That’s a lot of deaths this vampire’s brought lately.”

Craig raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Fourteen in four days,” Kenny told him, “and these weren’t accidents while feeding. This guy was killing for killing’s sake. A whole family name was wiped out on Wednesday.” A pause, then he added, “well, there was one left, but Kyle told me he doesn’t think she’ll make it.”

Craig winced. He’d done some bad shit in his time, he would admit to that, but nothing this bad and heartless.

“He’s hiding out somewhere in the city until nightfall, but we haven’t found out where.” Kenny yawned. “Cartman said I’m useless during the day anyway, so he sent me off. They’ll probably find him before too long, though.”

Jimmy folded the paper in half and used it as a bookmark as he shut his ledger book.

“I wouldn’t let someone like t-that in here,” Jimmy promised, leaning down to grab his crutches. “There’s a room up-u-upstairs you can use. I’ll show you.”

Kenny nodded gratefully. “Don’t let me sleep for more than, like, three or four hours. Cartman will get all pissy if he thinks I’m ‘slacking off.’” Kenny rolled his eyes as he followed behind Jimmy.

As Jimmy made a lewd joke at Cartman’s expense, Craig pulled Jimmy’s book towards him before spinning it around to open it. After unfolding the wanted poster, Craig carefully examined it.

The vampire murderer looked generic and boring as hell. Everything about him screamed that he should be a forgettable clerk at a general store, not a family slaughterer.

“Wanted for the of murders of the MacLoren family, Suzy Monathue, and Hakura Tsuzki as well as the crimes of arson, vandalism, assault, and theft. If seen, do not engage. Call upon your local police immediately.” The paper read.

None of the names particularly stuck out to Craig, so at least the vampire hadn’t hurt anyone he knew personally.

Placing the paperback to where it was, Craig frowned. While he hated to admit it, the local vampire hunters were good at their job of apprehending vampires that stepped out of line. They still had a good four hours before the sun even began to set. In that time, Craig was certain they would find this generic slaughter.

But even so, he hoped Tweek would come back to Moonlight before dark.

~~~~~

Tweek finished the last of his Salisbury steak and picked up his plate. Through the window, the sunset painted the sky a pleasant pastel rainbow. The night would be there soon, so if Tweek didn’t want to walk in the dark for too long, he would have to leave.

As he set his plate near the other dirty dishes, the door to the tavern opened. Tweek jumped as two of the local vampire hunters came in.

“Hey, Chef,” Kyle and Cartman greeted in unison, though their voices were tense.

“Hello, children,” the older man greeted cheerfully. Cartman rolled his eyes at being called a child while Kyle smiled fondly, some of the stress melting from his face.

Chef asked what he could help the two with as Tweek made a beeline for the back door, his bag over his shoulder. He didn’t like vampire hunters, even those that weren’t related to him. That half-vampire hunter, Kenny, was about the only one he could stand. The rest made his flesh crawl. One realization from them who he was and his parents would have him back in their grasp in no time flat.

When Tweek checked over his shoulder, he saw Kyle draw out a paper to show Chef. Not caring about whatever the paper was, Tweek ducked out and left the inn.

~~~

The sun could not set fast enough. Craig tapped his shoe with impatience. Tweek still hadn’t made it back yet, so Craig decided the second the sun started to slip behind the horizon, he would head out and escort Tweek here himself.

The door burst open and for the second time that day, a vampire hunter came into the vampire tavern.

Stan looked around wildly before spotting Jimmy. He darted over then set his hands on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Where’s Kenny? We need him now.” Stan bounced on his toes, looking over his shoulder out the door as the shadows crept longer and longer.

“Is this about that slaughterer?” Jimmy asked, mouth set.

Stan nodded, reaching back to touch the ax on his back out of reflex. “Yeah, we found him. Kyle shot him in the leg. He got away. Now there is a hurt, sadistic vampire running around. Go get Kenny.”

Jimmy didn’t even have time to stand up before Craig was too his feet and making a beeline for the door.

~~~~~

The streets were unusually quiet as Tweek cut through across the road on his way to Moonlight. The night was the vampires’ time. Normally, they would be all over, talking, opening their shops, prowling for humans to drink, but tonight the streets were empty. Even the human houses had their shutters closed. Halfway there and he had only seen one person the whole way, some man with a forgettable face sitting on a bench across the street.

Tweek shuddered, picking up his pace. Tonight was not a good night to doddle and enjoy the stars.

As Tweek turned into an alleyway, he came to the startling realization he was being followed. His heart picked up its pace as he debated if he should run or try to walk calmly. There were only a few streets between him and Moonlight now.

If his stalker realized that Tweek was heading to a vampire tavern, surely, he would leave him be. The only reason humans went to Moonlight was to be with vampires, and usually a particular vampire. A human wouldn’t want to mess with any vampires, and if his stalker was a vampire, they wouldn’t want to risk pissing off another of their kind by trying to hurt either the other vampire’s meal or lover.

At the end of this alleyway, the sign for Moonlight was just a few feet to the left. If Tweek went out of his way to tap it and loudly mention that was his destination, then his stalker would have to take the hint.

Keeping his pace steady, Tweek still reached down and fiddled with his bag’s buckle anyway. He was not going to use it, but touching his knife made him feel a little safer.

Tweek looked down at his bag for just a second then heard the rush of footsteps. He spun around in time to see a perfectly generic face lunging at him, mouth wide and fangs sharp.

Running on his trained instinct, he knew he didn’t have time to dodge, so Tweek twisted, turning his upper arm toward the vampire’s mouth. His clamped on the flesh of his arm. His slimy tongue lapped greedily at the blood that drained out.

Struggling, Tweek forced the vampire back a few steps. With every footfall, the vampire bit down harder and harder, squeezing Tweek’s arm to force more blood out.

Letting out a cry of rage, Tweek grabbed the vampire by the bangs. He bashed the monster’s head back against the brick of the wall over and over. Grit and mortar from the bricks fell to the ground, covered with thick blood.

“Let go! Let go! Let go!” Tweek demanded, his brain slipping back into his days with his family. “Let go of me, you waste of life! You foul, cursed thing!”

With one final smash, Tweek tore his arm free from the vampire’s mouth. He stumbled forward to his knees as the vampire slumped down against the brick wall.

That was when Tweek noticed the blood seeping down the vampire’s leg.

So that was it. This was a wounded vampire. Wounded vampires were no better than any other wounded animal. In fact, they were actually worse. If they could steal blood and life from something else, they could heal. A wounded vampire would break any rule or taboo to survive.

Wretched, unholy creatures! Disgusting demons! Tweek thought darkly before he gasped.

“No, no–I’m not that Tweek anymore.” His hands shook as he tried to stand. “Humans are just as bad when they’re hurt and scared. Humans are even worse than vampires. Humans are even worse than vampires.” Repeating that sentence, he focused on his mantra as he took a few stumbling steps.

His arm pulsed with pain, and blood oozed down towards his fingers, where it fell in heavy drops. The splattering sound the drops made echoed in Tweek’s ears. Somehow they were louder than his racing pulse.

His heart wanted him to go to Moonlight, where Craig was. He wanted to be held and have his hair stroked and the loose pins taken out until he felt better. His head, in part, wanted that too, but it knew better than to show up at a vampire tavern, bleeding, right before peak feeding time started.

He wavered a moment, swaying, as his heart and head fought over his safety and his wants. When his safety began to win out, a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway. Tweek froze, his body suddenly tense, and readied himself for another fight.

“Tweek! Tweek, there you are!” Craig’s voice filled with relief until he took a breath to sigh. His form stiffened before he darted forward to Tweek’s side.

“You’re bleeding! Fuck, Tweek, what happened?!” He gently took Tweek’s arm in his hands. His skin was cold and for once, Tweek was thankful for that. He started to lean into Craig, giving in to his wants but stopped. Craig had on his favorite jacket. He wouldn’t want to get blood all over it.

“I was, ahh!” Tweek flinched as Craig’s thumb brushed the bite. “I was attacked. By him.“ Tweek gestured towards his stalker. “But, I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m ok.” He tried to sound sure of himself but knew he just sounded frantic. “I’m alright. It just hurts like a bastard.”

Craig looked doubtful. He put an arm around Tweek’s back and began to lead him away, keeping an eye on the generic vampire attacker for a few steps until Tweek stumbled. He put his hand on Tweek’s front, keeping his full attention on him.

"Do you need me to—” he was cut off when the vampire grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him off his feet. Tweek feel to his hands and knees without the support. His stomach churned and his dinner threatened to make a reappearance on the cobblestones.

Craig slid against the ground, dazed. But before he could get up, the vampire was on top of him, pinning his hands above his head.  

Craig struggled to free himself, but the vampire held firm as he lowered himself down towards Craig’s neck. Silvia dripped from its fangs to Craig’s skin. Memories of the lectures Tweek’s parents had given him shouted in his ears.

“If a wounded vampire ever pins another person, they are good as dead, unless you save them. Their life in your responsibility,” His father had told Tweek, completely unprovoked at the dinner table.

“Oh, yes, they’ll rip a man’s throat out before you can blink if you don’t move fast.” His mother agreed. “So remember, if you don’t want the blood of someone you love on your hands, always be ready to do what you have to.”

Craig’s lips raised, showing his own fangs. He snarled “Let me go, you murderous fuck!” to the vampire. The vampire didn’t respond more than an animalistic grunt. He didn’t understand words anymore.

Blood rushed through Tweek’s veins, filled with adrenaline. Craig let out a scream of pain as the vampire sank his fangs into his neck, and Tweek’s mind went blank.

~~~~~

Craig had been bitten by other vampires before. It was weird and uncomfortable at best and painful at worst.

This experience definitely fell on the worst side.

The slaughterer didn’t look remotely human anymore. What attacked Craig now was a wild animal, running on the basic urge to feed and live.

He had a hallowed bullet in his leg and something had happened to the back of his head, judging by the blood seeping down from his hairline. Craig didn’t even think a Supreme Vampire could handle that without reverting to a feral state.

However, that did not earn this generic slaughterer any points from Craig. Actually, it pissed him off more. He was not some random street rat human. He was a well respected and feared vampire! Like hell was he going to be some forgettable asshole’s life-saving blood bag.

Craig tried to swing his knee up and hit the slaughterer in the groin, usually a cheap but effective attack, but the slaughter didn’t even flinch.

“Don’t you even feel pain anymore?” Craig screamed. “Get off!”

The slaughterer didn’t respond more than taking an extra hard suck on Craig’s neck. Craig let out a cry, but once he closed his mouth, the sound of a cry kept going.

“Get off of him!” Tweek ran towards them at full speed. “He’s mine! Don’t touch my Craig!” Tweek growled, reminding Craig of an angry wolf, before throwing his foot back and kicking the slaughterer in the side so hard he dislodged from Craig’s neck.

Before Craig could form a coherent thought, Tweek had his knees on either side of the slaughterer and something shiny, too shiny, in his hands. He raised them before plunging into the slaughterer’s chest.

The slaughterer gasped and began to sputter. Air and blood and saliva frothed in his mouth into a pale red foam. He clawed at his chest then at Tweek’s hands, covering his skin with scratches.

Tweek twisted whatever he stabbed the slaughterer with once to the left then to the right before the slaughterer finally froze with a single jerk.

The slaughter’s eyes cleared as his humanity crept back to him in his last moments of life. They were filled with horror and tears. He made a few final gargling words before all life left him.

Tweek scrambled off the slaughterer, only to fall back. He backed up with his heart beating so fast, Craig couldn’t count the individual beats if he tried.

“Tweek, how did you do that?” Craig asked in disbelief. Before Tweek could answer, the slaughterer’s corpse began to turn to dust. Within a minute, there was nothing left but brown bones, tattered, blood-stained clothes and a solitary knife sticking out of the chest.

Tweek inched farther away until he bumped against Craig’s legs. One of his hands grabbed for Craig. His shaking grasp on Craig’s knee hurt, but Craig found himself too preoccupied with the slaughterer’s corpse to care.

“It that,” Craig’s eyes widen, “a blessed knife? Where did you get a blessed knife?!” Craig turned to Tweek for answers but instead found Tweek curled into himself. His head was between his knees and his free hand grabbing at his hair.

“No. No. No. Not again. Not again. I didn’t want to do this. Not again,” Tweek whimpered between shuddering gasps. “They’re gonna find me. They won’t disown me. They’ll kill me. They’ll find me. I’m gonna die.”

Craig frowned. Before he could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed off the walls to his ears.

“They’ll find me. They’ll find me. I’m going to die. Tortured. I didn’t want this…” Tweek started rocking.

Making a snap decision, Craig pulled his sleeve over his hand. Carefully, he opened Tweek’s bag then picked up the blessed knife. Even though the fabric of his shirt, it started to burn his skin. He dropped it quickly into Tweek’s bag before closing it.

Tweek didn’t notice any of it.

“Tweek? Honey?” Craig let his hands hover over Tweek’s shoulders. “I’m going to hold you, alright?”

Tweek didn’t answer.

As Kenny and Stan skidded into the alleyway, Craig pulled Tweek to his chest. He stroked the back of his head for a moment before picking him up and standing. Tweek pressed against the crook of his neck, luckily not on the side of the tender bite. Craig quickly flipped his collar up to hide it before the hunters could see.

“What happened? We heard screaming?” Stan darted over. He looked from Tweek to Craig to the dry bones on the ground.

“That ass made the mistake of fucking with my boyfriend,” Craig growled, “so I got rid of him. You’re welcome.“

He started past him as Stan crouch to examine the bones.

Kenny’s hand shot out and grabbed Craig’s arm.

"What really happened here?” He hissed, eyes narrowed.

“I ripped his heart out. He was wounded. It wasn’t like it was hard.” Craig tightened his grip on Tweek.

“Bullshit.” Kenny squeezed once then dropped his hand. “If that’s what happened, you wouldn’t be shaking.”

He blinked. Craig was shaking. When did he start shaking?

Readjusting Tweek, he turned his full attention forward.

“I killed him. That’s what you tell everyone. What I tell you might be different if you come by later,” Craig muttered as he walked out of the alley.

Kenny kept an eye on him until Stan called him over. Heaving a sigh, he headed towards his companion.

~~~

What Craig liked most about Tweek over every other human he’d been with was Tweek never expected him to act human. In fact, he actively scolded Craig for trying.

In his other relationships with humans, he did what he had to so he always had an easy meal or fuck on hand.

If his human boyfriend thought it was creepy that Craig would watch him sleep, Craig would shut his eyes, lower his breathing, and pretend he wasn’t awake. If his boyfriend raised concern because Craig hadn’t eaten, Craig would force down a dish that tasted like salted paper.

Tweek never cared though. When Craig tried to fake sleep, Tweek rolled his eyes at the effort. When Craig tried to take some of Tweek’s lunch, Tweek slapped his hand away. He never expected Craig to use euphemisms when he needed to drink blood or tell his friends to only tell stories that happened recently so it wasn’t glaringly obvious Tweek was the youngest person in the room.

There wasn’t any pesky asterisk to their relationship.

Or there wasn’t any until Craig saw Tweek kill a vampire in one swing with a blessed blade he just so happen to have in his bag.

Even the city’s hunters needed to know exactly where to plunge the knife to get anything close to those results on a sedated vampire.

As Craig had predicted on the walk back to Moonlight, he wasn’t getting any answers out of Tweek until the next day. With some help from Jimmy and a snarled “What?” at the other vampires when he walked in, he was able to bandage up Tweek’s upper arm with no trouble.

Whatever Tweek did the slaughterer before Craig got there, he somehow ripped out one of his lower fangs as it was stuck in his arm. Both Jimmy and Craig were impressed.

After that the two were able to get Tweek to eat a few bites of a questionable looking egg dish Jimmy whipped together and a glass of brandy.

“Believe me, it’ll help him sleep,” Jimmy claimed at the time.

Craig wasn’t sure if it was the stress of the attack or the brandy, but when Craig returned with clean shirts for them both, Tweek was curled up and asleep.

Now, he, Jimmy, and Kenny sat at a table in the back room as Craig finished explaining what happened in the alley with the slaughterer.

Craig’s head still spun with all the unanswered questions he had. He needed to know how Tweek was able to do what he did and where he got the knife, and why he couldn’t think about how Tweek called him his like that without getting uncomfortably hot around the collar.

Craig held his forehead in his hand as he stared down at the table top.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to get this involved with a human like this. Tweek was supposed to be a fling.  He wasn’t supposed to be sucked in this deep as to care like this.

He only flirted with him because Clyde told him it would be funny to watch the confused, podunk, farm boy get flustered. Which, it was, at first: Tweek stumbled over his words, wrung his hands together in his shirt, and couldn’t look Craig in the face, but then Tweek fell quiet for a moment, and Craig wondered if he overloaded the poor guy. Before Craig could ask if Tweek was alright, Tweek flashed him a nervous smile and made a terrible attempt to flirt back.

Craig laughed at the failure but decided that if Tweek ever came back to Moonlight, he would start to pursue him. Luckily for Craig, Tweek showed back up a few days later to thank Jimmy for taking him to Chef’s.

According to Tweek’s claims, his moment of silence was to decide that any fears he had over Craig being a vampire where out weight by how attractive he thought Craig was.

Craig wondered how much of that was true now.

Kenny used his gloved fingers to pick up the blessed knife from the contents of Tweek’s dumped bag. He turned it over to look at the carved crest in the handle, rubbing his thumb over it.

“Well, huh,” Kenny hummed, “I know this crest.” He turned it towards the vampires across the table. Jimmy winced, shielding his eyes. Whichever member of the clergy blessed that blade, they were very high up and holy. The blade shone so brightly when directly look at, it almost hurt.

“And whose is it? And why was it in m–m-my tavern?” Jimmy frowned, barely keeping the anger out of his voice. He had been most unsettled by the fact that Tweek continually brought a weapon like that into Moonlight, a vampire safe space.

“It’s the crest of a very old, and very strong, vampire hunting family.” Kenny took his ungloved hand and touched the blade. A sizzling came from his finger the moment his skin made contact. “Like, this family is only called when the problem is really, really bad. I’m talking Supreme Vampire is trying to committing genocide in the countryside bad.”

“Tweek said he was from the countryside. Maybe he picked…it…up?” Even Craig knew how foolish that sounded. He grasped at any straw if it meant Tweek wasn’t in the wrong. This had to be a mistake. He wanted it to be a mistake.

Kenny dropped the knife then began to examine his already healing finger. “Maybe, but given the family’s name, I don’t think it’s that simple.” He fixed his gaze with Craig. “The family is named ‘Tweak.’ T-W-E-A-K.”

Craig swallowed hard. “He could have been named after them? Maybe they saved his family’s life and that’s how he got the knife?”

Jimmy set a hand on Craig’s shoulder with a frown. “Tweek never told me his last name. Did he tell you?”

Craig didn’t answer. He’d asked once, and Tweek had said he didn’t like his last name, then remarked that he wouldn’t mind changing it altogether.

“’Tucker’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? ‘Tweek Tucker.’” Tweek had then rested his head on his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “What do you think of that for my name one day?”

Clyde had made a gagging sound and told the two to get a room before he puked on the bar before Craig could reply to Tweek.

He had never bothered to dig deeper into Tweek’s last name after that.

Jimmy sighed. “So w-w-what you’re telling me is I’ve let a man who could have easily killed me or any of my customers sleep under my roof?”

“Tweek wouldn’t do that,” Craig snapped a little too harshly. He took a breath and looked away. “We don’t know.” He replied quietly.

Kenny shrugged. “Maybe.” He tapped his lips and looked to the corner of the room as he mused, “You know, though, I heard a rumor about two years ago about the Tweak family. Seems they had a son who was a prodigy that went missing a little after his first solo mission.”

Craig stomach twisted. ‘Prodigy’. Could Tweek really be a vampire killing prodigy? Was that even possible? The man who got nervous in large crowds and complained that humans were terrible and untrustworthy spent his childhood learning to slay vampires? No, that wasn’t possible.

And Craig told them so.

“Craig…” Jimmy shook his head.

“Don’t ‘Craig’ me!” He slapped his hand on the tabletop. “Tweek isn’t a killer. He is not.”

Kenny reached across the table to grab his wrist. Pity overflowed from Kenny’s expression. Gritting his teeth, Craig tore himself from his grasp. He took his jacket from the rack by the door. The blood hadn’t stained the black fabric terrible, not that he currently cared.

“Where are you going?” Kenny asked.

“I have two or three hours before sunrise. I’m hungry and aching, so I’m heading to the brothel down the road,” Craig grumbled, opening the door. “If Tweek wakes up before I get back, don’t try to pressure him into talking.”

He slammed the door, muttering to himself how there better be a man he could pay for so he wouldn’t have to force women’s blood down his throat.

~~~

All that was left that late in the night were women.

~~~

Someone was petting his hair so soothingly, Tweek nearly fell back asleep. He opened his eyes slowly to see Craig sitting on his knees off the mattress with his chin on his arm. He kept stroking his hair even when Tweek met his eyes.

Tweek smiled lazily at him. “Mornin’, Craig.”

“Morning, Tweek,” Craig replied. There was a distinct tiredness behind his voice.

Tweek moved his arm to cup Craig’s cheek when pain flared from his upper arm. He bit back a yelp, holding his arm.

“Urk! Fuck!” Tweek hissed. “What do you do to me last night?”

“You don’t remember?” Craig deadpanned. “Either way, I didn’t do it. That other vampire in the alley did. Do you remember him? The slaughterer?”

Tweek froze. He stared at Craig with wide eyes before he launched forward to pull his shirt away from his neck. He searched his skin for any puncture wounds. There were no wounds, thankfully, so Tweek held Craig’s face in his hands.

“That vampire, he tried to eat you! Are you ok? Are you hurt? Is he gone?” Tweek demanded to know, ignoring the pain in his arm and the scratches across his hands and wrists.

Craig blinked up at him. “What? You don’t remember? After the slaughterer pinned me?”

Tweek furrowed his brows then shook his head. “I think I passed out. What happened?”

Craig set his hand over the top of one of his as he searched his face. After a moment, Craig frowned. Something about the set of his face made Tweek’s throat clenched. What happened? What was so terrible that Craig looked so concerned?

He searched his memory for anything to answer that question, but it was all white and flashes of panic…

..and the face of a dying man.

Tweek fell back and let his hands fall into his lap. The tears started then, leaving Craig’s face a blurry smudge.

“I killed him. Oh God, no. No…” Tweek’s voice caught. “I murdered someone again.”

“Again?” Craig echoed. He sighed. “So Kenny wasn’t shitting us when he said the crest on your knife was for The Tweaks. You are a vampire hunter.”

He flinched back as if he’d be slapped across the face. Picking up the blanket, Tweek wiped his eyes.

“Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

“…yes.”

Tweek clenched his eyes shut. “Please, I, it’s complicated–or, no, but, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for being a vampire killer?” Craig’s voice was completely flat.

“Yes, but that was for lying to you.” Tweek opened his eyes but didn’t look at Craig. “Craig, if you want, you can drink me dry to make up for it. Kill me. Rip my heart out. Drown me in the bay. You can do what you want to me. I deserve it for all I’ve done.”

When Craig didn’t reply, he dared to peek up through his lashes at him. His countenance lacked any emotion. He stood up before taking Tweek’s chin in his between his thumb and finger and lifting it up, forcing Tweek to look into his eyes.

The pressure of Craig’s hypnotizing staring pushed against Tweek’s thoughts. Tweek pursed his lips a moment.

“You can’t hypnotize me. I can’t be hypnotized. I’m sorry, Craig. My mind is too much of a mess for it to work.”

Finally, Craig frowned. “So you knew every time?”

Tweek nodded. “I did.”

“Huh. That’s embarrassing.”

He shrugged but didn’t let go of Tweek’s chin. Instead, he tugged his head to the side, fully exposing his neck. Heart racing, Tweek took a shaky breath but didn’t try to stop him as he lowered himself down.

“You can drink everything, if you want,” Tweek mumbled. “All of the blood and life in my body. I’d rather you kill me than my parents doing it.”

“‘Parents’?”

“I’m a disgrace to the Tweak family. I’m a failure. I can’t kill vampires, not anymore. My first solo mission, I killed my target with the knife, but,” Tweek paused a moment. “her face, Craig. Shit. Her face.

“She was scared. Not scared like a cornered animal, but like a human who knew she was going to die. Even if she also was a killer, she was still a person. I was taught my whole life vampires weren’t people. They were monsters who looked like people, wolves in sheep’s clothing. Seeing her face when she died destroyed that illusion.”

A bitter laugh escaped his throat.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. Vampires are people, and what we were doing was murder. Every training exercise where we went and attacked the first vampire we came across was murder. Every time we targeted a house with a vampire family in it was murder. But my parents didn’t believe me. They told me that what I saw was a lie. I would get over it, but I couldn’t. I had nightmares for weeks afterwards.”

Tweek raised his hands and set them on Craig’s hips. If he was going to slowly die, he’d like to die touching someone he loved. “After that, I hitched a ride on a cart and ran away. I gave up my last name and past and vowed to make a new life for myself.”

“Where do I fit into this?” Craig asked, finally pressing his lips to Tweek’s neck, but not yet biting down.

“You were a mistake,” Tweek told him honestly. He tensed under Tweek’s hands, so Tweek went on to explain, “but you were an amazing mistake. I was going to use you as something to pull out of my back pocket if my parents caught me. I thought that they might not want me back if they knew I gave my virginity to a vampire. Looking back, that wouldn’t have worked. They would have said it ‘didn’t count’ or some bullshit.”

“So I was just an excuse for you to take your anger out against your parents?” Craig growled.

“In the beginning, yes, but, soon I ended up liking you too much. It was selfish, but I didn’t want to leave you.” He took one hand from his hip to set on the back of Craig’s head. “Now, the city hunters know who I am, and they’ll tell my parents. Who will come for me, but I’ll be killed for being a failure to them,” he tightened his grip on Craig’s hip, “but I won’t give them that.”

Craig took a breath then replied, “And if the city hunters don’t know?” This time, Tweek felt the pressure of fangs against his skin.

“I’ll still let you kill me.” Tweek tangled his fingers in Craig’s hair. “I promised myself I’d let you do what you wanted to me as revenge.”

Craig pulled back to look at Tweek’s face. He had one eyebrow raised and his expression dripped with irritation and exasperation. He snorted then laughed his series of chuckles with one final sharp ‘ha’ at the end.

“Do you think you sound cool and bold? Because you don’t.” He rolled his eyes. “You sound like you’re going to puke. Your voice was shaking the whole time. I think you forgot how to breathe during part of your spiel.”

Tweek narrowed his eyes. “I’m being serious, Craig! Don’t be a fucking asshole!”

“I am an asshole,” Craig retorted, “and you’re being an idiot. ‘I promised myself I’d let you do what you want to me as revenge.’ That sounds unnecessarily kinky. I’m not going to kill you, Tweek. The only hunter to know what happened is Kenny, and he won’t talk. You’re not going anywhere.”

Tweek blinked a few times as Craig moved to sit beside him, careful of his forearm, and slung an arm around him.

“How are you taking this so well? You’re supposed to hate me!” Tweek exclaimed, attempting to pull away, but Craig won’t let him get far.

“Tweek, honey, you’re in a tavern filled with blood-sucking vampires who have multiple lifetimes under their belts. On murder count, you would lose,” Craig told him bluntly while resting his cheek against his hair, “so don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not that simple!” Tweek pulled at his bangs in frustration. There was still a pin feebly attempting to hold a few strands back. Tweek took it out and tossed it to the floor.

How could Craig not get this! Tweek had spent months worrying about this conversation, rehearsing it in his head late at night or mentally preparing himself to force down his instincts to live if Craig wanted to kill him. It was not allowed to be this easy for him to let this all go!

Craig shrugged. “Is now. I like simple.”

Tweek screamed without opening his mouth. Craig gave him that look like he was a puppy again, and Tweek glared at him.

“Don’t fucking patronize me, dickhole!” Tweek crossed his arms, only to wince at the pain.  He kept them crossed out of spite. Craig’s look stayed soft but with less amusement at Tweek’s expense.

“I like simple,” Craig repeated. “You said you gave up on your past, so you’re not a vampire hunter anymore.” He pressed a kiss to a stunned Tweek’s temple. “At least now we can convince Jimmy that you can take care of yourself and stay at Moonlight. That’ll be good for you, I think.”

Tweek nearly said that that wasn’t how this worked, but he snapped his mouth shut so sharply, his teeth clicked together.

He took a deep, calming breath through his nose then let it out.

“You want me to stay?”

“Of course. You’ll have to get rid of that knife of yours, though. Kenny would take it for you.” Craig ticked off on his fingers as he spoke. “Jimmy will probably use your skills to his advantage for Moonlight while you’re working for your rent. Token, too. I’ll probably bring you with me to the docks now, too. You can spot hunter tricks for me–and I can hold your hand near the sea.”

At the last one, he smiled at him like a child who just realized it was his birthday. Turning to face him, Craig set both his hands on Tweek shoulders, eyes sparkling. A surge of excitement welled up in Tweek’s breast. He set his hands on his arms and smiled back at him crookedly.

How could Tweek have ever thought vampires weren’t people and didn’t feel the same emotions he could? As Craig leaned down to kiss him, Tweek knew for sure that this emotion of love was one they both shared.

~~~

AN:  I’m not entirely sure if Craig and Tweek are dating in the actual AU comics or that this follows the timeline set in the most recent comic (as of this posting), but you know what? I like my vampirexhuman fluff and I had fun writing this, so I don’t care. XP

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To (Part 64)

Note: Lyrics originally by kran* at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ov5IyW-O6bg and Will Stetson at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QsjrS_xxpI, used without permission and modified by me.

The current version here used is shortened, and relies on a remix of the track I made in my head. Sadly no accurate backing music to that.

9:30 PM, the Professional bracket of the Moonlight Serenade began in earnest.

Crews rushed in and assembled their sets and props in Devalekha’s famous revolving stage. The contestants, their crews, and their supporting members packed the dressing rooms full, if they didn’t have trailers of their own. The hosts smiled as they subjected the audience to enough noise and spectacle to drown out the sounds of frantic construction, and roar of the stage’s complex machinery just behind the curtains.

The seats were packed full with people, from the luxury boxes filled with wealthy individuals, talent scouts, and many of the sponsors for the contestants; the rows upon rows of benches reserved for the rest of the paying audience members; and especially those standing around on the fringes, trying to find the vantage point to escape the crush, or just watch the show, live on the stage or through any of the giant screens attached to the sides of patrolling airships.

And of course, the fans and supporters were out in full force. Whether they were packed together in matching colours like armies, or spread out in small handfuls all over the area, they were all armed with banners, posters, and words to be shouted at the top of their lungs, to their favoured contestant, or to anyone who dared voice the opinion that they might be flawed, or worse yet, inferior in comparison to a different performer that night.

“MARU FOR LIFE!” some random fan dressed in purple cried, their companions chiming in too.

“MIRA IS BETTER!” came from the group opposite them, all dressed in orange instead.

Just beside the two warring groups, the older Schnees, Taiyang, and Zwei did their best to ignore them, but their increasingly passionate arguments began to drown out the background music and the words of the hosts.

A minute in, Freya snapped. “Will you all SHUT THE FUCK UP?!” she yelled as she sat atop Nick’s shoulders. “I’m here to watch the show, not bear witness to your senseless bickering!”

“Piss off, lady, this isn’t your fight!” someone from the Orange team cried.

“Yeah, shut up, this is none of your business!” someone from the Purple team added.

Freya’s ears pulled back, her tail stiffened, and her hands balled into fists. “And if you both annoy me enough that I make it my business...?” she growled.

“Yeah, what’re you going to do, call the cops on us?” someone from Orange taunted.

Freya smiled.

“Freya...” Nick said quietly, but it was too late.

A monstrous screech filled the air, the crowds started to panic and whip their heads about, screaming as they saw a giant, slate blue nevermore’s head sticking out of a glyph. It threateningly snapped its beak a few times, glared evilly at the Orange and Purple teams, but did nothing more.

Almost immediately, a police patrol airship was hovering over them, its spotlights shining down on the them. “Break it up, break it up!” said a voice over a megaphone. “And get rid of that Grimm!”

The nevermore turned to Freya, she nodded, and it obediently faded away into slate blue mist. The two teams began to split apart in retreat, the other people in the crowd rushing in to fill the space.

“Thank you for cooperating, and please do not harass, threaten, and/or use violence and semblances on your fellow audience members, or otherwise disrupt the event,” said the officer on the megaphone. “We would like to remind you that it is illegal to do so, and we have the right to immediately eject you from the premises, and pursue further legal action, if necessary.”

The ship left to patrol other areas, the wedge driven between the two groups seemed too large for them to argue anymore. Freya smiled, and said, “Much better.”

“That was a little excessive, don’t you think?” Taiyang asked.

“Yes, yes it was, Mr. Xiao-Long, but mark my words: no one and nothing is going to ruin my granddaughter’s performance tonight, and my enjoyment of it.” Freya replied. “It was already insidiously sabotaged once, I will not stand idly by and let it happen a second time.”

“Oh, come on, Grandma! You can’t honestly still believe that after all these years?” Winter asked.

Snowie gently nudged her in the side, and said, “Just let it go, baby.”

Winter sighed heavily, and did.

Elsewhere, Weiss and Aqua were in the communal dressing room, sitting at one of the many vanity tables. They were a patch of relative calm in the sea of chaos and busy work, Aqua doing little more than retouching the make-up Weiss already had on, and adding some extra decorative markings and putting on ornate jewelry that would have looked off outside of the stage.

“You nervous?” Aqua asked as she dipped her brush back into the bottle.

“A little.” Weiss replied.

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Aqua said as she let the excess drip off, before she resumed her work. “You’re going to absolutely kill it out there, and that’ll just be with your singing.”

Weiss smiled slightly. “You sound so confident...”

“Because I know just how good you are, Weiss,” Aqua said, smiling as she made one last careful stroke. “There, all done. What do you think?”

“I’m absolutely terrified of sweating, touching my face, or otherwise marring all this wonderful work,” Weiss replied calmly. “Thank you, Aqua.”

Aqua laughed, before her expression turned serious. “Can I confess something to you, Weiss? It’s not recent, just… really long overdue.”

“Uh, sure… what is it?” Weiss asked.

“I was really intimidated and worried about losing to you, the first time you competed here,” Aqua started. “Topaz wasn’t that worried when she did some oppo research and those videos of you performing at Hoshiko and Sanctum popped, but I could just tell you had It—stage presence, appearance, and a talent honed to razor-sharpness. So when I sidled up to you on the night, chatted you up, and saw how flustered you were getting…

“I went full on Sun Tzu, and I am really sorry I did, however little that probably means by now.”

Weiss nodded slowly. “Was the relationship after that some kind of insurance that I’d never compete again?” she asked half-jokingly.

Aqua smiled. “Nah. That was because I find out your cuteness wasn’t all skin deep afterward.” She sighed, and looked down. “You deserved so much better than me, Weiss… better than how I treated you, better than how it all ended...”

Weiss gently put a hand on Aqua’s arm. “Let’s not dwell on the past, Aqua—especially not when we’ve got a show to put on so soon,” she said, smiling.

Aqua looked up and slowly smiled back. “Yeah, you’re right… break a leg out there, Weiss.”

Outside, at the staging grounds, all the construction crews were getting ready, clearing paths for wheeling their equipment, props, and sets in and out; stretching and re-energizing themselves with snacks and stimulants; and running through plans and assignments all over again, just in case.

“Man, that cannon looks big enough to fire someone out of it!” Amanda said as she helped unload the contents of a Bunyan Logging Co. van. “I wonder if they’ll let me borrow it after the show...”

“Most probably not, and I politely ask that you put a stop to any other burgeoning plans involving it,” Diana said as she stood nearby with a clipboard in hand. “Whatever they are going to do with that, it will be a stunt that the inspectors have deemed safe and sane, and I am quite certain that whatever you are planning to do with it won’t be.”

Amanda scowled as she hauled a bundle of prop tools on her shoulder. “You’re no fun, Diana.”

“Well forgive me for thinking of the success of our show, and by consequence, the size of your paycheck once all of this is said and done,” Diana replied calmly. “It will not help our already risky plan in the slightest if any sort of untoward incident garners the wrong sort of attention to ourselves, and thus, the Bakunawa.”

“Alright, alright, no making after-gig plans, sheesh!” Amanda said, before she deposited the tools before Constanze, Akko, and a squad of training dummies.

“You excited to perform for real, Amanda?” Akko asked as she picked up a rake, and put it in a dummy’s hands.

“Hell yeah I am!” Amanda cried as she did the same with a scythe. “Not looking forward to having to stand around here with nothing to do till they let us out at 11:30, though. My cut better be higher than what Jaune got me to agree to way back when, or I am not going to be happy.”

“It’s not that long of a wait,” Akko said as she grabbed a pickaxe.

“It is when the only thing I’ll be able to do is walk around, twiddle my thumbs, or try to chat someone up!” Amanda replied as she kicked up a wooden mallet to her hands. “It’s fucking bullshit they won’t let us use our scrolls for anything other than emergency calls, man.”

“If it helps stop people from sabotaging the other contestants like they did in other years, I can’t really argue against it,” Akko said. “Maybe you should just pretend you’re on wild watch.”

“And here I am, the huntress who did everything she could to get out of wild watch...” Amanda grumbled as she rested the bulky head across a dummy’s shoulder. “Honestly, who’d willingly sign up for a job where you stand around in a tower for hours to days at a time, constantly watching and waiting for something to MAYBE happen…?”

Far and away from the lights and hubbub of the Tsukimi Festival, a few miles out from the city’s borders, Qrow stood alone in a wild watch tower, binoculars in one hand, the other hovering near a large bottle of alcohol with marker notches all over its side.

What was normally a relatively quiet patch of mountain wilderness was alive with the sounds of Grimm driven berserk by the moonlight, the wanton destruction they were causing, and the cries of animals that weren’t given the mercy of swift death. Your average army lookout or Grimm hunter would likely be hyper aware of every last noise as they cowered in a corner with weapon in hand, but Qrow had long tuned it all out, the area effectively dead-silent.

He was just about to take another measured sip of his drink when he heard it: a mechanical noise like a flying machine’s rotors, screeching and whirring like something particularly awful had gotten sucked into the turbines.

It only lasted for a second, but a second was all Qrow needed to whip his binoculars in the direction he’d heard it, tag the location on his scroll’s map, before he pulled it up. “Tower 7 to Central, Tower 7 to Central, come in, Central, over!” he barked.

“Central to 7, what is it, over?”

“Suspicious noise in the immediate vicinity, sounded mechanical, definitely not supposed to be around here tonight. Requesting permission to investigate, over.”

“Permission denied, 7, over.”

Qrow blinked. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. This is the first interesting thing that’s happened all night!”

“Not to us, 7. We’re stretched paper thin and just got ripped into even littler pieces with similar disturbances reported in the other areas; we need you to stay up there, and maintain your bird’s eye view until some of them start to report what they’ve found, and/or confirm they have returned to their posts, so remain in position and proceed as usual, 7, over.”

“...”

“Do you copy, 7, over?”

“Roger wilco, Central, 7 out.” Qrow said, before he sighed, put his scroll down, and picked his bottle back up. “Isn’t that just my luck…?” he muttered, before he took a long drink of it, ignoring the notches completely.

9:44, back at Devalekha Terrace, Luna Nova’s performance had been completely set-up. The Bunyan workers, Woody, and the Timber Wolves fled the area, everyone else got into their positions, be they human, Faunus, or a creature of aura.

In the center, Diana and Whitley wiped the sweat off Weiss’ face before it could start to ruin her make-up, the glow surrounding Akko and Ruby faded as they stopped channeling their aura into her. They each wished her “Break a leg.” or gave her reassuring looks, before the warning lights began to flash, the safety siren whined, and they hurried to their places.

The stage revolved once more, their section now faced the audience. The inner set of curtains whizzed by behind Weiss and obscured the set and the others, the outer set parted slowly, keeping Weiss from getting blinded by the bright studio lights beaming down on her.

“… And here she is, returning to the Moonlight Serenade after her debut four years earlier, contestant number #2, Weiss Schnee!” the hosts on-stage said, before they ran through the gamut of introductions, small talk, and of course, the ad spot for the Bakunawa.

“I hope to see you all again there later!” Weiss said flirtatiously, before she winked at the audience.

She did not have quite the same effect as Aqua had with her audiences in years past, but there was no time to worry about that, as the lights changed, the inner curtains rolled back, and the show began.

The music was upbeat and fast, the choreography just as energetic; Weiss danced across the stage, the background rapidly shifting and changing as she passed them by:

A beautiful mountaintop palace on the highest peaks of Mistral; the busy and bustling streets of a marketplace in the lower levels; to the rolling fields, thriving seas, and dust mines that fed the kingdom and its industries.

The dummies and the others mimed the daily lives of the people:

Aristocrats and royalty strolling through the gardens and enjoying the beauty; the common folk going about their business, creating art, and sometimes even fighting; and the workers toiling away, loading carts full of food, raw materials, and especially dust and jewels.

Whatever the scene, it was colourful, lively, and bright, cherry blossoms petals floating down all over the stage… and then, the “sky” grew black and thick with smoke and fire, everything was cast everything in dark, gloomy tones as the cherry blossom petals burned up and turned to ash.

With a bold and sudden calling, Northern Revolution's starting Steel your hearts, prepare yourselves, the Great Storm is coming Riding on their beasts of metal, ash and ruins left in their wake Drawing evil spirits like moths to the flame

Mantle soldiers started to charge in, bringing guns and war machines. People were shackled and herded off, instruments, brushes, and art pieces were torn out of hands or destroyed outright, those that resisted or tried to fight back were shot with impunity.

Weiss found herself in the thick of the horrors, dodging and weaving through the crossfire and the explosions.

On the great roads, soaring through the skies, let us move forward, don't look behind. Boys and girls bear blood of the samurai And the pride of their lives gone by.

Bandits and Grimm joined in the mess, Weiss managed to flee back to the palace, where inhabitants remained untouched, as happy and carefree as earlier, even with the Mantle soldiers and war machines surrounding them. With the brief pause in the music, Weiss put on expressions of confusion, horror, then rage; and as the chorus began, so did her plan.

Thousands of cherry blossoms dwindling in the light Though I can't hear your voice, keep what I say in mind - This bouquet that surrounds is iron poison, see, Looking down at us from that big guillotine

With deft acrobatics and graceful movements, evaded the guards and into a new location: a “vault” full of weapons and treasures, the Shiny Rod in the center. She spirited it away, out of the palace, guards chasing her through the market’s streets, to the fields and right into a Grimm attack on dust miners, handing the weapon to the first person she saw:

Akko.

Darkness has just engulfed the universe we know The lament that you sing can't reach ears anymore We are still far away from reaching clear blue skies Go ahead, keep fighting, ignite the light of hope!

Akko raised the Shiny Rod and a fake dust crystal, a bright flash “vanquished” some of the Grimm. The tide began to turn, more fighting, “gunfire,” and explosions rocked the stage as the Mantle soldiers came in.

Veterans who've trained through struggles are now officers in battle Here and there, we see the harlots in procession This one, that one, doesn't matter, every single person gathers March on to our saintly deaths now! One, two, san, shi!

The common folk fell quickly, but more came to replace them. The Mantle soldiers sent in reinforcements and even cannons, but even those didn’t help them as the bandits and thugs came in, clearly on the people’s side as they stabbed the soldiers in the back and joined the mob.

Passing through the gates on the mountain peaks, Escaping this world, kill all the evil fiends Surely this will end in a denouement Among the crowds giving their applause

They stormed the palace, the guards there and the royals stood no chance. The mob tore through them, Akko leading the charge with Weiss, till they reached the top of the “mountain,” victorious. The others raised their arms and cheered.

And then, the Grimm returned in full force.

Thousands of cherry blossoms dwindling in the light Once your song can be heard, we'll dance with all our might! We are still far away from reaching peaks of hope Go ahead, keep fighting, use your shining bolt!

It was chaos all over again, the Grimm fighting their way up the mountain, making short work of the helmeted, faceless training dummies as the living actors put up a fight, but slowly got pushed back up the “mountain” and to the peak.

Akko raised the Shiny Rod, another bright flash exploded all throughout the stage and pushed the Grimm back, the colour and life began to return to the set as they all “vanquished” the horde.

Darkness has just engulfed the universe we know The lament that you sing can't reach ears anymore We are still far away from reaching peaks of hope Go ahead, keep fighting , spread your wings and fly!

The remaining Grimm bowed and cowered at the base of the “palace,” the dummies and the living actors stood proud with their arms raised on the steps leading up, Akko and Weiss stood proudly at the top, holding the Shiny Rod between them as a storm of cherry blossoms rained down upon them again.

And it was then that the real Grimm attacked.

Nevermores flew in en masse, turning the brilliant night sky black from sheer numbers. The music and the audio cut off as emergency sirens and announcements blared in their place. Audience members screamed and started to run as the largest of them all swooped in, ugly, jagged scars and burn marks all over its body.

It blew past the patrol ships and obstacles in its way like paper, broke through the ceiling of the stage, and ripped it off completely as it fled, Weiss and the Shiny Rod in its talons.

Note: God I hate modifying song lyrics, but it was incredibly important for this chapter. Almost all of Weiss important character developments come in song form, after all.

P.S. I just could not get the stanzas to format properly.

[callmeblake]

@gerardway

25th Mar 2013 from TwitLonger

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass. I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended. I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure- I made coffee. As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day. As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows. Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions. Smack. Smack. Smack! I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap. We cheered. I was no longer sad. I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would. It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth. I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death. The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you. So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty. Love. This was always my intent. My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013 We were spectacular. Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation. There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital- And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us- Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope. Fatalism. That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception. Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point. No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit. To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll. I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough). I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason- When it’s time, we stop. It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway. You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music. <At this point, I take a break to receive a visit from old friends, all of which were instrumental in some way to the beginnings of the band. We talk about the old days, and we talk about music, we talk about new things. We laugh and drink diet soda. We say goodbyes, I go to bed, to resume my letter in the morning, which is-> Now- There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor. There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets… I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy. We get the cue to hit the stage. The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong. I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade. All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say. What it said is between me and the voice. I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage. Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own. There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims- That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned? With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes. And another opens- This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle. A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device. He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it- “This amp talks.” he said. I smiled. We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home. When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles. I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton. He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say. In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you. I feel Love. I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with- Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod. Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing- My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you. I always knew that, and I think you did too. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. Love, Gerard

[archivesdiveronaevents]

DATE: February 21st

LOCATION: Castelvecchio Bridge

TIME: Midnight

TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, SUICIDE, BLOOD

The buzz and bustle of the soup kitchen opening that filled Verona during the day had petered out by the time the curtain of violet whorls of night and specks of stars unraveled behind the sharp edges of manmade monuments and edifices. Here, the night breed emerged. The dishonest, the dastardly, the deadly - on the ashes of the day, they danced and conspired and warred. On this night, a demand for justice eclipsed the forgiving light of the moon, an accusation of guilt and wrongdoing and a declaration of one’s own innocence. The stage had been set.

The accused: The Montagues.

The accusers: The Capulets.

Two kingdoms meet at a divider as ancient as their feud, heels that could cut glass and flesh alike quiet against the stones of the Castelvecchio Bridge. Blood has run torrid and unending like a river between these twisted sentinels, but amid the ceasefire, Rafaella Capulet, arming herself with secrets and truths, called for a meeting between the two courts. Damiano and Cosimo stand stark amid the rest, two kings in the middle of their army, stoic and as curious as their subordinates. Why Rafaella has called this meeting has yet to be revealed, but there is nothing on either boss’s expressions that give away anything more than unrushed nonchalance. Damiano lights up a cigarette and blows into the air, every movement sharp. “What’s this about now, Rafaella?” His rumbling voice fills the air like smoke.

“This is about putting an end to the blame. The lies. The Capulets are innocent, and we won’t have you smearing our good name any longer.” She takes a shaky step forward, her body still ragged and worn from the injuries inflicted at the Exhibition, voice hoarse. Vivianne moves, as if to reach for her shoulder, but her hand stills before it can touch her.

“The innocent do not torture!” A Montague jeers from behind Damiano, and more join in on his sniping. The Montague boss quirks his lips, half-amused.

“Noble intentions, but they have a point,” Damiano says. “Violence begets violence begets violence. An innocent person might say you weren’t kind to my emissary, or my captain, or my underboss. For heaven’s sake, I saved your heiress from certain death at the hands of a madwoman with a gun.”

“We did nothing to your underboss or your captain,” Rafaella thunders. “Your emissary… we did what we had to, to get what we needed.”

She reaches into her pocket, unbidden by the gazes that fall to her and her every movement, and pulls out a pill bottle. Flashes the label, and tosses it to the space between the two kingdoms. Clozapine.

Behind Damiano, Roman coughs, his eyes wide. Damiano stares at the bottle with the cold indifference of a god presented with evidence of his mortality. Silence befalls the two crowds. After a moment, his lips creep into a grin.

“How antiquated, Rafaella. Are you using my illness as a scapegoat for your crimes?” He takes a few steps forward more, his features losing its languid nonchalance and giving way to something lethal, something terrible and calculated and unreadable. “Are you so stupid that you think it’s responsible for my cruelty? For my sins? That I’m helpless to my own burdens?” He sneered as he crush the bottle underfoot, an emperor crushing a rebellion. Priam grabs Rafaella’s arm and yanks her back. The Montague’s wrath rumbles quietly in the silence, beneath the very stones of the bridge and up into the air, and the tension has become palpable. Suspense fills the spaces between his every move. “I’ve always been this way, you poor girl.”

“But you were never this greedy, signore. Not always,” Cosimo pipes in, stepping forward. “A competent boss ought not to fear insurrection from his own men if there is no reason for it.” Juliana touches his arm, a silent plea to remain silent, for her sake. At her side, Maeve and Catherine shift to position themselves in front of her.

“So you did do it?” Roman’s voice is shaky and unsure behind Damiano. “Alvise? Pandora?”

Damiano turns slowly to face his son, making eye contact, first with him, then Lawrence, Odessa, Pandora, Hiran, Alexander, the predatory edge in his eyes never shifting. “Have you picked an underboss for us yet, Roman?”

“What? No, I-I’m still thinking.”

“Do not forget we’ve been betrayed once already by a man as capable as any of them.” Damiano surveys the captains and the adviser with a critical, almost mocking stare, the clarity sharp as glass. Whatever warmth he’d ever shown any of them throughout the years, whatever praise and advice he’d bestowed upon them, seemed a far-reaching memory, an echo in a tunnel growing dimmer and smaller. There was only a beast, driven by instinct to guard what was his and nothing else. “Can you truly say you trust any of them not to grow hungry? To thirst for what is rightfully yours?”

“Answer Roman’s question,” Rafaella hisses.

“They grow like weeds, Roman,” Damiano continues, swiveling on his feet to face the Adige, his back turned. “And they grow long and tall, and they fool themselves into thinking they can touch the sun if they believe hard enough. But in the end, they’re nothing but an invasive species, and they’ll coil their tendrils over your throne as soon as your back is turned.” Guns are quietly drawn on the Capulet side, kept to their sides - Alexander notices, expression stricken but strict nonetheless, and signals for his captains to do the same.

“They would die for you, father,” Roman says.

“They would watch you die if it was by their hands.” Damiano turns, revealing the pistol in his hand and those on both sides suck in a breath sharply. The stakes have been raised and the gods, it seems, are thirsty for blood tonight. An emperor who fancies himself divine but fears the mortal blade paces on his platform. His Senate watches in horror - his enemies fear he will take them all with him. His expression is contorted into something strange, something anguished and serene all at once. A sudden tenderness falls over him as he gazes upon his only son, and Roman steps forward, raising his arm halfway imploringly. “And I would rather raze everything to the ground rather than let them have it. Understand this, mio figlio prediletto, understand this most of all.”

BANG.

Blood paints the stone of the bridge as Roman crumples to the ground. Screams cut through the air like sirens. Pandora and Hiran run to his side while Alexander barks orders. Damiano raises his gun again, high, high, rather than east or west, but another gunshot rings out, deafening through the chaos, and Damiano staggers back, clutching his side as blood spills from his fingers - he looks up and meets Lawrence Vernon’s eyes, the captain’s pistol still smoking and jaw set as stone. A slow, terrible, resigned smile cracks his lips and he raises his gun again to where it’d been, higher, higher, to his ear.

“Go!” Cosimo’s voice thunders just as the final shot rings out across Verona, and he turns Juliana away from the sight, ushering her back towards the Capulet side. The rest of the Capulets scatter in the organized chaos back to the east while the west is left to pick up the pieces.

Hidden far from the moonlight atop a rooftop overlooking the scene, a small motley crew stands impassive as blood fills the streets below. The leader is the first to dare to step into the light to peer below, his silhouette stark and clean relative to the luridness below. He tilts his head, pulls a cigarette from behind his ear to light. “Alva,” he hums, “Is the Montague son breathing?” A beat passes while his sharpshooter peers into their scope, their voice softer than air when they answer.

“Yes, boss. His chest is fluttering like the wings of a wren. Poor thing.”

“And here I thought Verona would be dull,” a voice, silky and languid remarks. “As good as you left it, Boris?”

“Better.”

“Let the Spades make themselves known while the Montagues put back together their prince,” a woman, proud and tall, murmurs. “And crown him king. And let us make it clear with whom we intend to align ourselves.”

“Hear hear, Calina.”

“But first,” the man in the moonlight says, “let’s make ourselves at home.”

ADMIN NOTE: And with that, this event marks the conclusion of Act 1! We hope you enjoyed the finale, and we hope you’re more excited than ever for Act 2, Scene 1, which will be released soon. In the meantime, feel free to date interactions from FEBRUARY 21st-MARCH 1st. Members of the Spades will begin to introduce themselves as foreigners who hail from the east, but their intentions are still shrouded in mystery. The Montagues have scrambled to rebuild what has been lost despite everyone’s shakiness - Roman is still confined to the hospital while Lawrence, Hiran, and Pandora have temporarily split underboss duties among themselves while Alexander maintains his position as adviser. Major decisions are postponed until Roman is released. The Capulets have been absolved of the blame for Alvise’s murder and Pandora’s assault, though Celeste’s torture continues to mar their hands. An uneasy peace has settled in the aftermath, but rumors abound of the newcomers and the mysterious ‘Spades’.