𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗬 ♡

The Argent clicked away the safety and tightened his grip around the gun. "James, don't make me shoot you."

James didn't respond. He took a step forward and tempted fate like an old friend. "I'm unarmed. That's hardly fair."

"You have a dead body over your shoulder." He hissed. "Don't make me ask you again."

Another step. "Not even if I say please?" 

In the blink of an eye - and the flash of a gunshot - James felt a warm stickiness coat his left shoulder. He could feel the heat of the blood dripping down his arm like liquid embers. He stumbled back a few steps, pain radiating through his shoulder, while clustered groans sprang from his parted lips. 

His cigarette had fallen from his lips and spilled ash across the expensive leather on his shoes. James didn't fall, though. Legs refused to give way from underneath him and hands didn't jump to cradle his wound.

He was rigid. As tall and unsteady as an old church ready to crumble to its own sacred ground.

Chris lowered his gun as he watched fingernails dig into his shoulder and fiddle with the buried bullet. He stared in mortal horror, watching the only other man like him tear spheres of scrap metal from his body like doll parts.

He inspected the bullet in his fingertips before tossing it towards Chris' chest, the tiny drops of blood painting a macabre picture on the floor. 

If James wasn't already intimidating enough, he wore immortality like expensive jewelry. He left his wounds open just long enough for them to shimmer before straightening out his jacket over now blood-stained skin. "Now, can we talk like adults?"

"Like monsters, you mean?" He spat. "What bit you?"

James tutted lowly at Chris. "Put the gun down and I might just tell you."

"Who's that?" He nodded to Kai's unconscious body. 

James held his hand out for the gun. 

Chris didn't place his gun in the vampire's hand. Instead, he buckled it into the hemline of his jeans and gestured him to walk with a nod of his head. "I don't care about whatever you are, one wrong move and a bullet to the head is all it takes."

"And leave my daughter without a stable role model? You wouldn't."

The Argent scoffed. He seemed as stable as a rickety picket fence.

"Now, you're done shooting me, I'd love to pick your brain. What do you know about Original vampires-?"

Freezing in place, Chris interrupted. "Shut up."

"Rude. You could've just said nothing-"

"No, James, be quiet. Do you hear that?"

James didn't hear much other than the racing heartbeat of the man next to him, the low breathing of his chest, and the total absence of both in his own body. Yet, his ears focused and his body inclined towards the stench of death that wasn't his own.

Crittering bugs tapped tiny melodies through the tunnels. Slow clicking and chattering of their tiny bodies drew closer as their steps never ceased. "Step back." Chris narrowed his eyes at the grid James stood upon. "Do you smell anything?"

"Death." James felt his face grow white. "Lots and lots of death."

His eyes set between the gaps of metal while his gun found itself nestling between his fingers once more. This time it wasn't aimed at James. It was aimed at whatever lurked beneath them and made their home in the darkness.