Scythe's Inferno, [Dante]

[Capperon]

Capperon mentally counted the number of guns concealed across his body. Sixteen? No, that couldn’t be right. That weight against his left hip was a bonesaw, and that cold presence in the sole of his shoe was a screwdriver. You know, in case he encountered any screws. Or something. Probably could have left that one at home.

This was his chance, the latest in a long list, to take care of his Sire once and for all. He knew he wouldn’t. Every time the number of firearms he toted along with him seemed to rise, and yet he had never once brought any into the open. Capper had never hesitated to make bullet-Swiss-cheese of the torso of anyone who intervened in the smooth running of his organization. The trouble was that his Sire did just the opposite; he was an asset, a legend among blood hunters, a means of swift dispatch of opposition and a yielder of wealth. Offing him would not be a financially advisable decision. His desire to lead Dante to a second death was entirely emotional, something Capp made a point of never applying to business decisions. The emotion was fear. He, the fearless and merciless Sa’yun, could not abide an underling exerting such control over him.

He pushed the door open. The noise of chugging machinery exploded outwards, hundreds of rows of pumps – drugs in, blood out. The floor was stained with centuries of human filth and gore. The smell of this place was not the usual drool-inducing stench of blood, it had a repulsive artificialness to it that seemed to fade after time spent in a bottle. Capperon quirked his lip in disgust. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose before pressing on.

As usual, Dante was not simply waiting for him out in the open. He liked playing games, hiding in shadows. Capper hated this game. He paced the rows of pens, the click of his shoes on the poured concrete floor echoing. He glanced in at the pens’ contents as he passed, considering the quality of the livestock with a critical, practiced eye. Most of the humans were nearly comatose. There must be a better way of getting blood in an economical fashion without tainting the product with so many additives. If only they could still harvest the old way, bleeding them out over grates, but he recognized that was analogous to killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Still no sign of his sire. Capper was growing impatient, fingering the gun in his pocket. “Come now, Scythe, let’s not play like this,” he said to the room. No doubt his sire had come up with some menial task for him to accomplish just to check up on his fledgling and ensure he was still worthy of his lofty position. Now if only he would come out and die already…

[Dante]

Dante usually did lurk in the shadows, but tonight he lurked in plain sight. Well, sort of.

"All work, no play. You never changed Capps, even after dying," Dante gurgled, the blood he still hadn't swallowed leaking out the corners of his lips. He sat in one of the pens with one of the cattle, stroking its damp hair. He ducked his head to finish the meal, sucking loudly on the victim's throat. Normally Dante drank only from the pure wells of live, sober victims – not the tranquilized dregs of these half-lives. Today was one rare occasion where he broke his usual dietary habits. This cow had started resisting the drug treatment. so it had to be euthanized... The resistance probably had a lot to do with the cow's hybridity.

He finished and discarded the pale corpse of the half-drac. "I promise this will only take a moment of your precious time," he said while climbing over the steel rails, leaving bloody hand prints against the silver. A bib of bright scarlet soaked his white t-shirt. If he noticed, he didn't care. "I've got a specific bird in mind for capture, but she might be a little trickier than the others. See, she actually has people that care about her, lucky doll. She lives in Siras with her parents. Far as I can tell, she doesn't know a damn thing about our kind, or that there's any danger in a darling place like Eterno. Point being, I might need help dispatching her exorbitantly wealthy parents, butlers and body guards. Plus, I don't have much need at the moment for the content of their wallets but I'm sure you could find a few cogs in the proverbial Caedo-machine that need oiling." He grinned, looking a touch sadistic – but he always looked that way. He turned on his heel and started marching toward the door, no weapon on-hand except for, well, his hands.

"I hope you've managed to stow a tranquilizer gun somewhere in your knickers too because I'm in a bit of a bargaining mood, and I don't think she'll be in the mood to chat if we off her parents right off the bat. By the way, I do hope all that clinking while you walk has something to do with weaponry, or I'll have to start teasing you about chastity belts. And we all know how funny you find my jokes." He thought the idea of Capp in a chastity belt was very amusing but he doubted Capp would agree.

He led his progeny from the blood farm all the way across Malum. He was quite sure that by the time they finally reached their destination in Siras, Capp wouldn't be in any mood to tolerate him. If ever there were a time where Capp humoured such a mood in the first place. They arrived in Siras just outside an estate that glittered in superficial wealth, but which gave the distinct impression that everything from the doorbell to the twelve foot hedges to the automatic sprinklers had beady eyes and hidden cameras. "So how's work been? Lucrative and bloody I hope."

[Capperon]

Capper flinched at the sound of Dante’s voice and mentally chided himself. How did Dante always make him feel like a rabbit being smoked out of a hole? “Work and play don’t have to be mutually exclusive. Take the case of Ring Around the Rosy with Insurgi officers, for example.” Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Capper generally found a playful aspect to all of his business endeavors where ‘normal’ people would not. Except paperwork. God did he hate paperwork. That was what underlings and Tori were for.

He glanced around from pen to pen, trying to localize the source of the echoing, garbled voice. Dante hauled himself over the railings. Blood smeared his chin and lips and the broad scarlet stain on his shirt was slowly expanding through the fabric. “You, uh, have a little something. Just there,” Capper informed him, pointing to his own chin. Honestly, who eats like that? Disgusting, talking with his mouth full.

Capper’s hand was concealed in his pocket, fingers caressing one of the guns. This was going to be the last time Dante summoned him out of the blue and ordered him around. He didn’t even have to bring the gun out, just shoot through the pocket. It would be easier than killing his father. Except that Dante already knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he intended, and that there was no chance of him making a move with the elder vampire grinning at him in that unsettling, sadistic way of his. Capper decided he was not above shooting him in the back if it came to that.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t prevent the spark of intrigue igniting as Dante explained his purpose. “This chicken-on-a-stick doesn’t know about vampires? How is that even possible? Her parents must keep her locked up tighter than a Llorar’s ass.” Hopefully they didn’t keep their wallets guarded quite as well.

At Dante’s chastity belt comment, Capper glowered at the back of his head and immediately took his hand out of his pocket, leaving the gun behind. Forget it, just forget it. Dante didn’t need x-ray vision to tell that Capp attended every one of their little meetings as loaded with weaponry as a homicidal Santa’s sleigh. He’d have to wait another decade or two to build up some nerve. “Very amusing,” he said with a simpering smile. If he had been wearing a chastity belt it would only be with the intent of smashing Dante over the head with it repeatedly. What an unfortunate way to go. His smile became more genuine as he followed Dante outside, imagining the coroner’s report.

They moved at the unnaturally brisk pace of the undead, across Malum and into Siras. “Work has been both bloody and lucrative, thank you for asking Sire. My bookkeeper suggested I start hiring some intellectuals to play catch-up with the Insurgi engineers and chemists. The Ji’wun continues to berate me for allowing so many hybrids in the Caedo’s employ, but if they do good work and don’t die – or die with sealed lips – it’s all the same to me.” He imagined Dante might have some opinion on this. He tended to side with the Ji’wun in these types of disputes.

They arrived at Wyman Estate, little more than a glorified box in Capp’s estimation. “You want to negotiate? What for?” he asked incredulously, eyeing the unnecessarily tall hedges and barred windows. Was all this security to keep the world out or themselves in? He began to frisk himself, trying to locate the tranquilizer gun he’d stolen from that Surg assassin he’d drained last week. It was strapped to his shoulder.

He followed Dante’s lead with a resigned sigh. Dante could make him feel foolish without even trying; here was Capper, armed to the teeth, and Dante had nothing lethal on him but his teeth. He took his usual approach, no beating about the bush, just ringing the doorbell in a casual way. It would be nice to meet and chat with the people whose lives they were about to ruin.

[Rilla]

Settling back against the large and fluffy pillows on her bed, Rilla blew absentmindedly at her freshly painted nails, watching the glitter sparkle softly as she moved her fingers. Her feet were resting on top of a large pillow to let her toe-nails dry as well, dark purple with silver glitter sparkled back at her, her left big toe adorned with a simple silver ring. Assuming that her nails probably were dry by now, Rilla leaned forward and picked away the cotton she'd kept between her toes before she stood up, throwing the cotton balls into the pink trashcan.

Moving to her closet she quickly pulled out an assortment of pants, skirts, shirts and dresses and placed them on her bed. Luckily, her bed was massive and covered with a cream blanket with intricate ornaments, the edges of it lined with purple. Likewise the large pillows on her bed looked much the same, except the largest were dark purple with cream linings. Looking at her clothing, she immediately tossed aside a green top; wrinkling her nose in distaste she quickly rid herself of an orange top and a pair of pants as well. Glancing over the clothes again, she groaned and turned away, shifting as she looked thoughtfully at her closet, before suddenly turning and heading out of her bedroom.

"Mum, where are the golden shoes you wore to Erin's party last month?"

"I believe they're at the bottom of my closet," her mother replied, her head once more peeking out of the doorway.

"Okay, thanks..." Rilla answered, already making her way to her parents bedroom, moving past the bed and directly to the closet she rummaged through it until she found the shoes and turned as quickly as she'd come, only stopping to pick up her mother's golden necklace before she walked straight back into her own room, slamming the door.

Slipping into a simple orange dress with feather patterns along its side, she nodded before she stepped into the shoes and placed the necklace on, she once again looked at herself in the mirror, frowning and titling her head to the side as she tapped her nails against her hips. She stood like that for another minute before she snapped her fingers and walked over to her jewellery box, or drawer as some would say, opening a drawer and picking up a simple gold ring with a ruby on it and slipping it onto her finger. Glancing towards the window, she caught her reflection and nodded, clapping her heads together in approval.

"Now then... What purse to bring..." she murmured as she opened her bag closet and looked through it.

While Rilla was occupied trying to find the right attire to wear to the dinner party that her mother had arranged, her parents were seated in a pleasantly decorated living room. The father, lounging on a luxurious red couch and the mother, nervously fretting as she went through a list, a nervous maid standing by her side and fidgeting with her hands.

"Have you finished arranging the flowers?" the mother asked, glancing at the maid sternly. "Yes, Mrs. Wyman," the maid stuttered, shifting a bit. "Good, I can't have Mrs. Golding criticising me on it; do you have any idea of how embarrassing that is? Anyway, how's the cook-" she stopped as she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, frowning deeply. "Garrick, dear, you didn't mention that you'd invited someone..." she said, her voice laced with disapproval.

"I haven't invited anyone Amarante, you know that, except my parents, and I do believe that was your doing too..." Garrick replied, not taking his eyes off the book he'd been reading for the past four hours.

"Well, you best see who it is then Opal and, unless it is someone important, please do tell them to come back later," Amarante sniffed, looking back down at the list.

Relieved at the chance to get away from Mrs. Wyman, Opal hurried to the door, smoothing out her skirt and stroking her hair back into place before she opened the door.

Running out of her bedroom, Rilla stopped at the railing. "Mu-..." she blinked as she saw the two men standing outside, she hadn't seen the guest list, but she knew they couldn't possibly have been invited by her mother.”-um..?" she ended uncertainly, her eyes flickering from the two men to the living room. She could see Opal turning pale, but she'd no idea why. Her father, who'd risen from the couch to see who it was, stopped in the doorway, him too turning pale.

Rilla, frowning and looking at the men, felt a sudden urge to run, but her death-grip on the railing kept her in place and she stared silently at the men.

[Dante]

Dante smirked, waving his hand. "Hmmm, and this is why I don't want your job. Finding smart people in Eterno would be such a useless chore." He snickered, well-aware that Capper had begun applying the strange talents of hybrids to the Caedo. He agreed that they were probably the best kind of employees for jobs not requiring too much brawn or exceptional health. What's more, their life expectancies were so short they had much less time to rethink their alliances. They croaked before the notion crossed their minds.

"How is your bookkeeper? Tori, right? She smells like a cup of coffee at 6AM, I think." His smile looked ravenous. It seemed strange for a vampire to liken any taste to something eaten by humans, but Dante was one of the few who remembered exactly what a cup of coffee smelled like from the day when he had been human.

“You want to negotiate? What for?” Dante cocked his head to the side, considering it while rocking on his heels. "No idea, to see if I'm any good at it, I suppose. I'm sure I'll think of some adequately awful demands." Capp rung the doorbell and Dante continued to rock back and forth, whistling a sinister little tune.

The maid opened the door and immediately turned the colour of a skull. Dante's grin widened and he bowed deeply. "Humblest greetings, Miss. We're here seeking the young mistress of the house, is she home?" He took the maid by the hand and bent as though to kiss it, but instead turned it over and sunk his fangs into the delicate flesh of her wrist. He didn't stay there long, only tasted the phoenix ambrosia before pulling away. However, he'd learned over the years how to control the excretion of venom in his fangs, and he'd just given the maid a nearly-lethal dosage. She crumpled to the floor with a simper on her pale face, twitching every once in a while. They both entered, stepping over the maid and into the foyer. Dante caught sight of the girl – Amarilla – staring from the landing of the grand staircase. He caught sight of the dress and threw up his hands in an exclamation of joy.

"A party! I love parties," he said, turning to flash a manic grin at the mortified expression on Garrick's face. "It's really too bad you didn't invite me, I'm the life of a party." With unnatural swiftness, he scaled the staircase and appeared behind Rilla, twisting her arm behind her back. "Or, in this case, the death of it. Too bad." He inhaled Rilla's intoxicating scent off her hair. The phoenix blood saturated his senses.

He figured Capp would loosen up and have some fun with this, too. Phoenixes were always fun. "Your beautiful daughter, here, won the Nobel Prize for greatest blood donor contribution of the year, Mr. and Mrs. Wyman! You should be so proud..."

[Capperon]

Capper tapped his polished shoe against the doorstep. Their butler or manservant or housekeeper should be let off for taking so long to answer the door, even if they weren’t expected visitors. "Hmmm, and this is why I don't want your job. Finding smart people in Eterno would be such a useless chore." Capper kept staring at the door icily. “Oh, that’s why you don’t want my job? I had been wondering for the last few centuries.” Centuries of looking over his shoulder, expecting his sire to come take back the unlife he had given in a hostile takeover of the Caedo. At a certain point you wanted to stop lying awake at night and finally feel the sword of Damocles fall.

Capper didn’t remember a time when coffee didn’t smell like fresh manure to him, but he gathered from Dante’s tone that the simile had been meant as a positive association. Tori had been right to suspect that Dante looked at her in a strange way. “With all due respect, Sire, if you touch my bookkeeper we’re going to have problems. I would consider her demise detrimental to the smooth running of our organization.” And would have to terminate your association with the Caedo. And have you hunted down like a dog. Capper really hated number-crunching.

The door opened to reveal the maid, who looked a tad concerned to see two unknown vampires standing there. Dante swooped in like the vulture he was. Capper rolled his eyes as his sire sunk his fangs into the woman’s wrist and left her a crumpled heap on the floor. All the same, his eyes glimmered in excited apprehension of the chaos in which he was soon to take part.

He gingerly stepped over Opal’s torso into the foyer and glanced around at the garish decorations, the lovingly set table, the vases of flowers. Chrysanthemums? Really? What were they thinking? His grin manifested at sight of the terrified expressions of Mr. and Mrs. Wyman. Alright, if he had no choice but to play along with Dante’s ridiculously high-profile choice of cattle, he may as well have fun with it.

Dante mounted the stairs in a few swift steps and had Rilla at his mercy in a few more. He supposed that meant it was his job to take care of Garrick and Amarante. “Forgive my colleague, he’s upset he didn’t receive an invitation. Don’t worry, I don’t really like dinner parties. I just appreciate the opportunity to kill people.” He pulled the tranquilizer gun from his shoulder and the tommy gun strapped to his leg from his pants, aiming the former at Garrick and the latter at Amarante. “I’ll make this quite simple, Mr. Wyman. You are going to relieve yourself of your wallet, the combination to your safe, and all of your wife’s jewelry. In return, I will not shoot your wife in the head and tranquilize you so that you have no choice but to helplessly slip slowly into unconsciousness as she dies, and I will try my very hardest to convince my colleague not to drag your daughter off to a blood farm to be drained dry. I believe my terms are reasonable.”