Angel of the Damned

AotD - 4

           Drake pulled a new shirt on as Nathan entered the room, a packet of blood in his hand.  Without a word,  Nathan returned to his seat behind the desk.  Drake turned to him and leaned against the desk. “Let me make something very clear to you,” Drake started, “You are not to drink her blood under any condition, am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Nathan said. He looked at the packet of blood and smiled, his fangs already extended. “Besides, this should curb my thirst long enough for her to heal up.”

Drake fetched his shoulder holster from the ground.  He opened the side pocket and retrieved the fang.  He pocketed it and grabbed his sword along with its twin. “Be good.”

Nathan sneered at Drake and bit down on the blood packet.  Drake exited to the hallway and headed for the main commerce. He pushed out of the door and enveloped himself in the bubble of noise again.   The tunnel had a gentle downgrade as it descended under the ruins of the old city of Arkane.  The further he got from the entrance of the tunnel the darker it got.  Soon oil lamps hung from the ceilings and lined the floors.  Several men stood around, some with their wives and children, some staring at him as he walked past.  A turnstile up ahead separated the commerce from a set of stairs descending to the platform below.  Drake vaulted over the turnstile and made a left turn, descending the set of stairs.  The platform below held two train cars and enough room for thirty families or more but it was empty, sans two men standing at the door of the one train car.  Each man held a rifle.

       Drake resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he approached. The one man stuck his arm out, blocking Drake’s path.  Drake turned to look at the man, who offered up a sinister smile of rotted teeth before speaking. “Heya, mutt.” His breath could have woken the dead and irritated Drake’s sensitive sense of smell.

       “Let me through or lose your arm,” Drake said calmly.  He returned the man’s smile with a smirk of his own, allowing his fangs to pop out and his eyes to flash crimson for a moment.  Drake heard the man suck in a short breath and saw his grip on his rifle tighten for a brief moment.  A human fear instinct Drake could play against pretty much anyone.

       “The only reason you're allowed to live here, mutt,” the man sneered, “is because you do a special job extremely well.  That allows you to live here.  It does not give you the ability to boss us around.”

       "Let me through," Drake repeated.

       The second jabbed Drake in the chest. "You don't tell us what to do, mutt," the second sneered.

       “So, that would be a loose your arm decision?” Drake asked.  He tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest.  The men looked at each other and continued to block his path.

   “You can’t cut our arms off,” the second said.

“Are you willing to risk it?” Drake asked.  The man went to push him back, Drake ‘s hand closed around his wrist and he gave a short, swift yank in towards him; ripping the man off balance.  There was a satisfying crunch as Drake sunk his fist into the man’s ribs and elbowed his partner in the side of the head.  The man watched his partner crumple to the ground as Drake twisted his arm, drawing his sword in the process.  With the flick of his wrist, the blade snapped out and he placed it against the man’s shoulder.  Drake spoke in a low, threatening tone, “Give me a reason not to take your arm.”

“Please don’t!” the man cried.

Drake pressed the blade tighter, drawing a thin line of blood. “Hmm, looks like my blade is dull.  This might cause a slight issue in the removal of your arm.”

“Please, Hunter, I beg of you!  Don’t take my arm!” His cries got louder and tears began to stream down his cheeks.  He continued to beg until Drake could barely understand the words through his sobs.

       “Drake,” the voice came from inside the car.  “Don’t remove his arm.  I’d prefer he didn’t die.  Come in.”

Drake released the man’s arm, shoved him away and turned to enter the car.       

“Rabid mutt, we should have put you down a long time ago,” the guard snarled.  Drake whirled around and slammed the blunt edge of the blade into the man's temple.  The man went limp and sprawled next to his friend.

Drake stepped into the lavishly decorated car.  The chairs had been removed and replaced with the best supplies available.  A cot rested against the far wall, a desk a few feet in front of it and in a large chair behind the desk, Draco sat with his feet propped up on the desk. The rest of the car was decorated with things Drake couldn’t afford.  Drake removed the Lycan tooth from his pocket and tossed it over to Draco.

       Draco snatched him out of the air and looked at it. “A Lycan fang?  That's an interesting choice Drake.  Tell me something, do you enjoy killing your half brothers?" Draco wore an expensive suit that was out of place amongst the grime smeared faces in the tunnels.

       “I want my payment, Draco,” Drake said, “Where is it?”

       “All in good time, Drake, all in good time,” Draco waved him off, “How about you tell me about this girl you found.  She seems interesting.”

       “Payment,” Drake said.  He swallowed his disgust and kept his voice as even as possible.  Ever fiber of his being urged him to walk away now, but his mind nagged him about the money.  Without this payment, he couldn’t afford to pay his rent or buy new clothes or food.  Nathan had a list of everything they were low on: choji oil, cleaning kit replacement parts, water packets, nutrient tablets, clothing without a hole or various colored bloodstain.

       “In time,” Draco said, “tell me about our little guest.  My border guards tell me she's got silver blood.  Did you bring a vampire in here?”

       Drake took a deep breath and shoved a grimace to the bottom of his stomach. “Payment.”

       “Tell me about her, Drake,” Draco demanded, “What’s her name?  What race is she?  Where did you find her?”

       “I am not going to request it again, payment,” Drake said.  He’d remained remarkably calm for the present situation, but that patience started to wear thin. He clenched his fists and felt a prick as the fangs in his mouth extended into his lower lip.

       “Now, now, Drake,” Draco tisked, “We wouldn’t want things to get messy.  My men were right when they said the only reason you are tolerated here is because you do a special job extremely well.  I would hate to have to throw you out because you couldn’t keep your temper.  Those fangs and eyes could get you in trouble.”

       “Where is my payment, Draco?” Drake asked.

       Draco motioned to the briefcase on the desk, “Please, feel free to count it if you don't trust me.” Drake spun the briefcase around and popped the clasps, lifting the lid.  He gritted his teeth in frustration as he stared at the briefcase’s hold, full of loose ammunition.

       "Nice briefcase, jackass," he growled and closed it.  The loose rounds inside all slid to the bottom as he took it by the handle and yanked it off the desk.

       "You get the money in the briefcase, not the briefcase,” Draco said.

       “Screw you, Draco,” Drake said walking out.

       “I expect to see this girl by the end of the day," Draco called.

“Never going to happen,” Drake said.  He stepped over the prone bodies of the two guards and left the car and platform behind.

A/N:

If anything is confusing or needs to be elbaorated on more.  Tell me, I will fix it ASAP.