#but if you go in with an open heart and a heavy dose of satire i think you will enjoy yourself

[technofinch]

Incredible news everyone. I have a new addition to the list of Movies Of All Time.

If you want a scathing, tounge-in-cheek criticism of misogyny in the armed forces and the role of scientific advancement in the military industrial complex, shitty puns, lots of titties, the most available special effects 1996 had to offer, then you want the action/sci-fi/comedy/adult film Repligator!

I'm not telling you anything else about this movie. Invite a friend over and make them watch it without telling them what it's about.

[therappundit]

***The Top 10 Rap Albums/Projects of 2019*** are...

At the end of the decade, the rap music genre finds itself with a more splintered and diverse fanbase than ever before. What did that mean for 2019? A push towards different styles which was balanced out by a strong grassroots revival of jazzy, soul-inspired sounds that echoed back to the heyday of the mid-to-late 90′s underground hip-hop scene. 

In 2019, the lanes that travel more closely to what most would consider “mainstream” rap, struggled to find new inspiration without as much artistic direction to act as a template. This created a bit of a hole for some, as the absence of new material from Kendrick Lamar or Isaiah Rashad, or the disappointing reception to highly anticipated releases from the likes of Chance The Rapper, Schoolboy Q or Kanye West, left the gate open just wide enough to allow more Young Thug disciples, more aspiring Futures, and more cookie cutter “want to be the next Drakes” to flood your streaming platform.

But let us be clear: 2019 was still a great year for rap music because the underground feasted. Scroll further, and you will see that point made by my list of the best rap projects released in 2019 (and in some cases, releases that are amongst the decades best). I used the following criteria for this year’s list:

- the album/mixtape/EP/project/WHATEVER you want to call it had to be released by Dec. 20th, 2019 (arguably still way too soon to craft a well-informed review of an artists’ project)

- the project must have at least 6 songs (arguably still too small of a sample size to compare to lengthier projects)

- these rankings are a *combination* of my own personal preference, overall quality, and how the final product compares to other work from the artists’ peers that occupy the same lane/”sub-genre” of rap music

Regardless of how you feel about this list, I hope that you visit (or re-visit) any one of these pieces of strong work and find the same level of enjoyment that I did. I loved so much rap music this year and I could not be more excited about what the future holds. On a personal note, in 2019 I found myself even more in love with my wife, feeling luckier than I have in a long time, more satisfied with my hobbies and passions, and above all else, more in awe of my child (and anyone that ever raised a child) than ever before. I became a father for the first time in 2019, so as my baby daughter continues to fill my heart, I am beginning to wonder what she will think of her father’s love for this art form that has brought him so much joy over the years...I suppose time will tell.

Salute to these artists below and so many, many others. 🙏🙏🙏

Much love to all,

Jason, THE Rap Pundit

10. It Wasn’t Even Close - Your Old Droog

Your Old Droog is a unique, stand alone artist - I want to make that larger point perfectly clear - but after I finished listening to Droog’s trio of terrific projects in 2019, and sat down to right this blurb, on It Wasn’t Even Close, I thought of three people (and not the one you think I’m going to say!): Royce Da 5′9″, MF DOOM, and Joe Pesci in Goodfellas.

I thought of Royce because more than any other artists, I think Royce and Droog both get dismissed as “punchline rappers” because of their punchline-heavy rhyme styles, but both make incredibly personal, perspective-driven music (not their fault you’re not listening closely enough). I also thought of DOOM because YOD is able to create an insular rap world with his projects that incorporate fantastic production ranging from off-the-wall to bleak as hell, paired with hard rhymes that can be both dope af and laugh out loud funny - but without the gunplay and drug dealer talk. And why Pesci?? Because it’s not always clear when Droog is going to come off with a well crafted joke, or a painful reveal of the dark thoughts behind the man...but that is what makes him such a compelling MC.

Of his three 2019 albums (Jewelry is not being acknowledged here because in the holiday shuffle I haven’t had any time to sit with it yet, but I like what I have heard thus far), the transportation themed and appropriately titled Transportation might show the most range as a song-maker, but it’s the relentless thump of It Wasn’t Even Close that lands a top 10 spot on my list. His recent work with Mach-Hommy seems to foster a free-wielding spirit in Droog, from surprise project releases to unpredictable themes. The bars come in great abundance throughout IWEC, and most of the finest moments from Droog come when he his dropping brilliant one-liners over production that does indeed point to the world being about to end (perhaps all too appropriate for the bizarre news feed that was 2019). 

Your Old Droog has too much to say, too many thoughts to simply dumb down his lyrical content to create a focused song that just addresses one singular idea, so he makes the right choice on It Wasn’t Even Close to touch on as many of his manic thoughts as possible. Droog is like a great stand-up comedian that knows his audience and will do whatever he wants with his material because he knows that is one of the things that keeps his audience coming back, but within each joke is a revealing kernel of truth that should be taken seriously. Because whether you see it on stage or not, working stand-up comedians often dedicate themselves to comedy because there is no other way to harness all of the fast moving, often dark and uncomfortable thoughts in their head. I can’t say if that’s the case with Your Old Droog, but he is certainly an artist that raps with the sense of humor - and unexpectedly deep thinking - of a great stand-up.

9. Guns - Quelle Chris

Circling back to my comment about 2019′s depressing news cycle in the above Your Old Droog post (can’t be a coincidence, given that Quelle, Droog and Hommy are all frequent collaborators), can you think of a more to-the-point and overdue rap album title for this moment in America’s history than Guns?

Quelle Chris can stake a claim as having one of the greatest under-appreciated catalogues in rap history. The gifted rapper and producer has blessed us with many great projects over the years, and he tends to excel at making a point without sacrificing the enjoyment factor of his music. Much like last year’s Everything’s Fine (his brilliant collaboration with fellow dope artist and wife Jean Grae), it’s his use of satire on Guns that prevents the project from dipping a toe too deeply into the gloom of the subject matter.  Guns is a wonderfully scored portrait of how the United States’ connection to violence fosters increasingly more violence, and the symbiotic relationship between violence and the tools that wield it. Quelle is not a gangsta rapper, and he does not support violence, but as a black man in this country and a rapper, he is pulled into a wide set of false assumptions. An artist like Quelle doesn’t avoid false assumptions or challenging subjects, he tackles them with a great deal of thought and care. Sure, Guns has some light-hearted moments, but at the rate that people are being shot and killed by guns in this country (especially the rate of black men and women, as wells as members of other minority groups), a successful satire is often one that leaves the audience sitting in reflective silence rather than uproarious laughter.

8. Hitler Wears Hermes 7 [HWH7] - Westside Gunn

2019 was such a triumph for Griselda Records’ journey of doubling down on their sound rather than adapting, and reaching even higher profile success by doing so. While providing less controversial cover art on the 7th installment of his Hitler Wears Hermes series may be seen as a bit of a (increasingly necessary) compromise, the collective continues to sustain a steadily growing fanbase by keeping their music honest and gritty.

While not as grounded in the traditional as Westside Gunn’s FLYGOD, HWH7 provides a highly satisfying glimpse into the world of Griselda's impresario, the best example since Supreme Blientele. That means an indulgent dose of dusty soul samples, fashion trends, wrestling references, impeccable guest verses, and a general sense of fun-loving mayhem that could only be characterized by a representative of a shining underdog of a city with a scrappy chip on its' shoulder like Buffalo. Anyone that knows Buffalo New York knows that it's a city as filled with love as it is cold during frequently brutal winters. That's the type of town needed to shape a raw diamond like Gunn, who is as unpredictable with his rap cadence as he is respectful of the great MCs around him.

Westside Gunn and the whole Griselda gang provide a vibe that brings the best out of even the most experienced rap veterans (for example, I haven’t heard Fat Joe rap this well in years). Whatever their secret recipe for success has been (besides a relentless hustle and fresh talent), Hitler Wears Hermes 7 is another great example of how the collective’s energy is so contagious that established artists are eager to fall in line with their vision, Griselda doesn’t adapt to their guests. And can we finally end this ridiculous notion that Westside Gunn isn’t a dope MC in his own right? Don’t let the sharp rhyme skills of Conway and Benny distract from the fact that Gunn brings a real outside the box approach to how he attacks a beat, he’s as fly with his word choice as his fashion rep.

7. Eve - Rapsody

Rapsody is a great rapper.

Not a great “female MC”, not a “good for a woman” rapper...so knock off that bullshit right now, it’s 2019 people (well, technically 2020 - but I meant to finish this whole post before the ball dropped, but I dropped the ball). :-/

Rapsody has been an underground darling for so long that I am not sure if you can technically refer to her as underground hip-hop artist anymore? Check the discography and you will see that the North Carolinian has quite an impressive list of good projects to her name - all of which helped build the revere that her peers feel towards her when they say her name. While she did not ask for cult status, she certainly inherited cult status as the MC that snippy underground heads like to point to whenever they feel like Nicki Minaj or Cardi B are receiving too much too soon. Of course this sentiment is completely unwarranted - and almost always driven by angst against a fanbase rather than the more famous artist his/herself - but it doesn’t stop the conversation from coming up again and again...so why doesn’t Rapsody have more mainstream success? Should she be mentioned in more conversations as one of the best rappers in the game? And should she be receiving more credit as a woman in a male-dominated genre of music that managed to build a fanbase without pumping more graphic sexuality into her music, or showing off her body?

Well, all the answers to these questions snake up to the same problem, because apart from gender, Rapsody, Nicki, Cardi, and Megan The Stallion all share something else in common: they’re all just trying to get their piece of the pie in a sexist industry (more like society - but that’s a much larger convo) and it’s 100% not their fault. Please try to understand that Rapsody is going to do what she does on a record, and Nicki will do the same, and to expect either artist to do the same type of record is as absurd as expecting Conway The Machine to make a Drake album. Whatever your gender identity may be, you are entitled to craft your sound to be as mainstream or underground as you want it to be, just do you.

So in a way, it would make sense that Rapsody would drop the best album of her career in a year where the mainstream rap scene was shallow, mostly unremarkable, and full of holes. I’m not at all saying that that’s the reason why she received more press off of Eve than on most of her previous works, but in a rare twist, industry trends did provide a bit of an assist in the publicity department. However, the acclaim for Eve has less to do with industry trends, and a lot to do with just how good the music is on this album. 

Eve is a celebration of black women, but not as a “ladies night at the bar”, one time only rap album gimmick, but as a personal and informative album where every track is named after an influential woman of color, and the star of the album just happens to be a black woman that also hopes to be remembered as an influential woman of color. Eve is as much a braggadocious claim for respect from a dope MC as it is a humble diary of a veteran rap artist that’s still very much in her prime. The production choices range from intentional reinterpretations of the familiar, to fresh takes that successfully ride the line between what we would traditionally call “mainstream” or “underground”. At the end of the day, Rapsody’s Eve manages to start a conversation about the importance of black women in the history of the world, but while filling in the details with reminders that she deserves the respect of being treated as just another great MC.

6. Zuu - Denzel Curry

There may not be a more important album reflecting the sound of a specific city in 2019 than Denzel Curry’s Zuu.

His ode to the Carol City neighborhood of Miami, Florida was a long time coming. Zuu would not have been possible had he not experimented with different approaches in the past. He has dabbled in the same woozy, screaming raves of his fellow Floridian peers, and flirted with expressionism (especially on his previous album, TA13OO), but it all really came together on Zuu. A loose, more casual approach to song crafting on this album built a city on a clean slate. Much in the same way that Juvenile and Mannie Fresh’s “Ha” painted as vivid a picture of the feeling of being in the Magnolia projects of New Orelans as any city homage in rap history, Denzel Curry deserves a ton of credit for collaborating with perfectly selected producers to capture a sound that feels as sweltering as Curry’s place of origin.

While Zuu could stand on atmosphere alone, Curry is also at his best as a MC on this album. His pen is hard at work here (even though he claimed this album did not come with much actual writing), and he showcases a control over his flow and a charisma that proves that he is a stand alone artist to stay glued to moving forward. While the production aesthetic may be providing the broad strokes of color, his lyrics are adding the finer details throughout, discussing his father’s life and in general, the anxiety of growing up in a Miami neighborhood where sunny days are never promised. Zuu is a great album start to finish.

5. Marcielago - Roc Marciano

Roc didn't technically *need* to drop an album this year. His 2018 was one of the most prolific in his career, and for his increasingly less niche core fanbase, the impact on his respective lane is crystal clear, be it by open shout-out from his peers, to more subliminal homages. But it's that last point that inspires Roc Marciano to suit up and dramatically emerge from the gate every year or two. He has that Jordan/Jay-Z gene that suggests that no matter how many accolades are racked up over the years, any internet troll has the potential to get Roc's blood up. Which is why it should come as no surprise by this point that the man that gave us Marcberg, Reloaded and a stack of other revered projects, still felt the need to remind his "sons" that he is one of the Masters of his art form.

As an exercise in word choice and turn of phrase, Marcielago is more of a flex than an attempt to push new boundaries. But as a display of Roc Marci's (somehow) still understated skill as a producer, it's so much more - possibly his best work behind the boards. While less experimental with his production choices than on his acclaimed Rosebudd projects, Marcielago finds Roc doubling down on his ability to color within the lines of a gritty, soulful soundtrack to a world of seductive criminal activity, occasionally swerving outside of the lines with great intention, like a record skip, reminding the listener that this world is part autobiography, part fantasy - but the imagination of the man at the center is scary real. The piano sample alone on "I.G.W.T." is enough to provoke a smokey zone out, and the beat switches on that track as well as others (such as "Tom Chambers") are captivating because the switch-ups drive focus, not a choice derived from an overindulgence in production or onset boredom.

Many rap artists can claim to have made a great impact on their respective lane of traffic, but not many can claim that they paved their own. Roc did not invent the New York underground sound by any means, but when most of the New York crew abandoned ship, the captain stuck with it. ✊

4. The Plugs I Met - Benny The Butcher

Let's make this perfectly clear: Griselda Records has been dope af for years now, and nothing changed about their game plan in 2019 except that they had significantly more press to help continue pushing their brand forward. That press helped them put a ribbon around a tremendous year of music for them, along with a rapidly growing bandwagon of websites and online influencers that were previously asleep at the wheel.

That all being said...in 2019, the rap world really learned about Benny The Butcher. The Buffalo lyricist and Griselda & BSF rap capo has been spitting for years now, but word has finally reached his peers that he is pretty close to untouchable when it comes to this game called rap. Benny took things to another level with his short but potent dose of an album, The Plugs I Met.  Much like Pusha T (an appropriate guest here on “18 Wheeler”), please do not dismiss Benny as just another street hustler rapping about cocaine dealing. It’s not the subject matter that’s special here, it’s the attention to detail. Benny’s ability to describe the life he leads/has lead, and what he has been through with his writing is nothing short of brilliant, and he is able to rattle off astute observations/descriptions with his rhymes about the world he knows at a level that I would only compare to B.I.G., Nas, Jay-Z, Kool G Rap, Push, Beanie Sigel, and other legendary MC’s that have a unique way with words when it comes to tales of crime life.

But what more can I say about Benny the rapper/warrior poet that I haven’t been saying for years?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

https://therappundit.tumblr.com/post/143774514306/neighborhood-watch-benny

3. We Grown Now - Tree

Tree is a legend. If he’s not a legend in the conversations you are currently having about the best rap projects of 2019, then you need to remedy that. Perhaps you can downgrade him to “just” a Chicago legend, but I would disagree on the grounds that musically, he’s a legend when it comes to who he is as a rap artist, and I don’t really care that this album isn’t on anyone else’s top best of lists, it’s AOTY worthy material...

Tree is a veteran rapper/producer that seems to have a love-hate relationship with the rap business (well, maybe it’s strictly hate when it comes to rap as a business, but he raps with too much conviction for me to believe that he doesn’t love rapping - even when he’s jaded by it all). Why he isn’t heralded as an icon across every rap website today isn’t exactly clear to me (and I have already made too many assumptions on the intents of the artists on this list), but after being in a bit of a slumber, the purveyor of “soul trap” seemed to rise high once again in 2019, striking his fanbase with numerous projects that read as autobiographical diaries, including a dope collaboration with Vic Spencer, producer Parallel Thought, and this amazing album, We Grown Now.

Whether it’s attempting to find closure from fallen friendships, an ode to his sons, a declaration of his love for travel, or an olive branch to the past loves of his life, Tree touched on so many personal moments on his work in 2019 that it’s hard not to think that it’s all part of his final victory lap. It feels that way because Tree comes across as an old Blues man at heart, his greatest works of art often his most painful ones. While he may travel outside of music to get away from it all, put a mic, beat and writing pad in front of him, and he puts himself out there, warts and all. Give this one a spin in the New Year if you missed out:

https://soundcloud.com/mctreeg/sets/wegrownnow

2. Retropolitan - Skyzoo & Pete Rock

The definition of a dope New York album with no skips. Skyzoo shows that one can revel in nostalgia and positivity at the same time, that reflecting on how your home has changed can be a loving experience, even when it's clear that you would love to turn back the clock to an older, impactful time of your life. 

Retropolitan is the sound of a music Mecca that thrives today because of its' past, and even when you don't hear that sound of the city within the city walls as often as you used to, it’s that sound that still propels it forward every day. By all means, you can criticize the sounds coming from "these kids today", but know that new sounds still trace back to their source material (whether you can hear it or not, the influence exists), and there will always be enough room for different rap styles to to co-exist, just as Classical music and Rock 'n Roll continue to inspire the world around us without any genre/sub-genre diluting the pool...in fact, the pool only continues to expand because of it.

Like Roc Marciano, Skyzoo is on a short list of NYC-based MC’s that kept developing a traditional east coast underground sound in their music for years, long after it was en vogue. As one of the genre’s most naturally gifted writers and storytellers, I don’t know if any MC working today is as fit to write this album as Skyzoo, a relic that survived a purging of the old guard in NYC only to emerge as part of a resurgence of underground hip-hop, sounding as spry as ever (if not, even stronger). With Retropolitan, every bit of this ode to growing up in a culture capitol feels like a child’s observation from a Brooklyn apartment window rather than a forced exaltation of times gone by.

This pairing may be the most natural for Pete Rock since CL Smooth, and no doubt the music on this album would not exist if it wasn't for timeless records like "T.R.O.Y." that continue to breathe and sound as refreshing as the day it dropped. Right now I doubt many expect Retropolitan to have the same cultural impact (as the material clearly points out, both the world and the genre are so different nowadays), but the music that derived from these two NYC legends certainly packs a wallop of quality that belongs in rotation for years to come.

1. Bandana - Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

By now it's hard to imagine that folks were skeptical of the musical union between Freddie Gibbs and Madlib. But back in 2010/2011, prior to the release of "Thuggin" (the first single to be released from the fantastic project that would eventually become Pinata) the notion of Gangsta Gibbs finding a happy union with the man that was behind classic projects alongside underground icons the likes of MF DOOM and Jay Dilla, sounded more like a fish out of water tale. Today, it would be like hearing news of 21 Savage and DJ Premier dropping.

By the time Bandana finally dropped - the much anticipated follow-up to the Pinata collaboration that many consider a modern classic - the hype had long since buried the initial questions that fans had about what the chemistry would be like between the respected artists, who once climbed the rankings within two very separate lanes. What Pinata proved was that the hard rhymes from Gibbs, when paired with Madlib's chopped up jazzy soulscapes, yield a sound that feels as beautifully organic as many of the genre's purist classic records. The biggest difference between Bandana and its' predecessor is that their chemistry has only improved.

What 'MadGibbs' achieved here was a more intimate and diverse album than Pinata, and arguably a superior one. Bandana may lack the layers of dusty underground grit which came in abundance on Pinata, but Gibbs' flow and pen game are so sharp on this album that it gave Madlib a bit more room to experiment with some sounds that don't instantly point to Madlib as the orchestrator on first listen. Lurking behind the making of this project were Gibbs' very real legal troubles, and the threat of extended prison time that not only jeopardized the completion of this project, but Freddie Gibbs' own freedom. Throughout the amazing Bandana, Gibbs does not hesitate to remind fans of how his life could very well have gone in a different direction, and that's exactly what elevates an album of bars & beats to a gripping, album of the year experience. Even with Bandana still in heavy rotation for the foreseeable future, it's hard not to salivate over what the duo could accomplish next...

***AND THE REST OF THE BEST***...

11. Emergency Raps, Vol. 4 - Tuamie feat. Fly Anakin & the Mutant Academy

12. Let The Sun Talk - MAVI

13. Wap Konn Jòj! - Mach-Hommy

14. W.W.C.D. [What Would Chine Do]? - Griselda (Westside Gunn, Conway & Benny)

15. SPORTEE - Nolan The Ninja

16. El Capo - Jim Jones (and The Heatmakerz)

17. Hiding Places - Billy Woods & Kenny Segal

18. Oofie - Wiki

19. Feet of Clay - Earl Sweatshirt

20. Hell’s Roof - Eto & DJ Muggs

21. Brandon Banks - Maxo Kream

22. 4wurd - Jay Bel

23. Revenge of the Dreamers 3 - J. Cole & the Dreamville roster

24. Sli’merre - Young Nudy & Pi’erre Bourne

25. The Wild End - Tree & Parallel Thought

26. Holly Water - Fly Anakin & Big Kahuna OG

27. Kirk - DaBaby

28. Boss Sauce - Mooch & Futurewave

29. Port of Miami 2 - Rick Ross

30. So Much Fun - Young Thug

31. Own Pace - Medhane

32. Drip or Drown 2 - Gunna

33. You Can’t Sit With Us - Pivot Gang

34. GREY Area - Little Simz

35. Transportation - Your Old Droog

36. Tuez-Les Tous - Mach-Hommy & DJ Muggs

37. May The Lord Watch - Little Brother

38. Drum Machine Tape Cassette - Kev Brown & J Scienide

39. Lil Big Man - Maxo

40. Statue of Limitations - Smoke DZA & Benny The Butcher

Honorable Mention:

Bullies - Denmark Vessey, DrxQuinnx & Azarias

[ink-flavored]

11/11/11 Tag Game (Triple Threat)

I was tagged by @bookenders @timetravelingpigeon and @oradall! Thank you!

Questions

What animal would be your familiar?

You can bring any one extinct species back, with the guarantee that it won’t become extinct again. Which animal do you bring back?

Top three favorite animals?

What’s your favorite road trip snack?

What’s one place you never want to visit?

If you had to live in the world of (one of) your WIP(s), how screwed would you be?

What’s the worst name for a character you’ve ever had?

What’s something your 8-year-old self would love about you? 

What’s the stupidest thing your OC(s) has ever done?

How important is family to your OC(s)? To you?

What’s the song you want playing in the background every time you walk into a room?

Tagging: @rainy-rose​ @rrrawrf-writes​ @aslanwrites​ @tenacious-scripturient​ @waterfallwritings​ @quilloftheclouds​ @blueinkblot​ @lilquill​ @kobalt-ink​ and anyone else who feels like it!

My 33 answers below!

1.      What baseball positions would your OCs be in if they all had to be on a baseball team? What’s the team name? What’s their mascot? What do the uniforms look like? (If you hate baseball or prefer a different sport, substitute said sport for baseball.)

Well, considering Park is literally on a baseball team, I think I’ll answer this one for him. He’s a pitcher for the North Carolina Sabretooth Cats, and if you can’t tell their mascot from that, then I don’t know what to tell you. Their uniform colors are white, gold, and black.

2.      How good are your OCs at bowling? How good are you at bowling?

I, personally, suck at bowling. I’ve never been good at it, but I still have fun!

Before Hayden was on crutches, he was the bowling master. It’s harder for him to bowl now that he can’t really balance by himself, or hold a ball at the same time as he holds his crutches.

Park is also really great at bowling, something that Jamie (bad at bowling) will never forgive him for.

If bowling existed for Teconia, she would try her best, but not succeed. Xinya would be almost good. The occasional strike. Yu-Qi would attempt to chuck the bowling ball like a softball because it Made Her Lose.

3.      Rewrite this in your style: “I picked up the book and read the back. He took it from me before I could protest. He never lets me have the cool stuff.

I took the book of the shelf and flipped it over to read the back, but I couldn’t get a single word in before he snatched it out of my hands. I pouted – he never lets me have the cool stuff.

4.      What do you love about the last book you read?

The last book I read is called Policing the Black Man, a collection of essays edited by Angela J. Davis. I’m telling you this because you should read it. It’s not an easy read, and I’ve had to take several breaks from it because it’s very heavy, but it’s an eye-opening look at how race and law enforcement interact in America. It reinforced a lot of the things I already knew (the police are an institution founded on racism), but it’s teaching me so much more about why that is, and how we can fix it in the future. Highly recommended – especially if you’re white.

5.      What are three things you love about your writing?

I really love my descriptions, character interactions, and settings.

6.      What’s a word you love the sound of? What’s a word you really don’t like the sound of?

I have an entire list of words that I love, but I’ll pick my top three: Vivaciousness, Gossamer, and Facetious.

My least favorite word is flesh. I hate that word so much.

7.      How do you like to begin your stories?

It depends on the story. Usually I like to jump into the action, to give the reader something to latch onto as soon as possible, and to get them to form questions at the same time.

8.      What other forms of writing have you tried other than the one you’re working with now? (i.e. playwriting, screenwriting, poetry, interactive, novels, short fiction. etc.) How do you feel about them?

I’ve been writing a game! It’s been a super huge blast, and even though I know neither jack nor shit about coding, the program I’m using makes it very easy to write games without any coding. Use Twine! It’s the best!

Once I graduate (in June!!), I want to finish the game and upload it somewhere so I can get people playing it. Stay tuned for that!

9.      What’s your favorite play/musical? Why? What’s your favorite part?

OH NO, I HAVE TO PICK ONE? Okay fine, it’s Chicago. I absolutely adore that musical, mostly because I love jazz. But also because the dark humor, satire, and well-rounded and unique women are top notch. I had the privilege of seeing it on Broadway in 2017, and I cannot recommend it enough.

10.  What kind of stories do you like to read? How different are they from what you write?

Honestly, not much different at all. I read a lot of fantasy, sci-fi, and poetry – I write a lot of fantasy, sci-fi, and poetry. The only thing I write, but don’t read, is suspense/horror-ish stuff. Which sounds weird, but I listen to Welcome to Night Vale, which is about as much horror as I can handle.

11.  What’s your favorite bit of worldbuilding from a story someone else wrote?

I’m a huge Tolkien nerd, and the whole concept of two trees that give light to the whole world is the best idea.

12.  If you had to change the genre of your WIP, what would you change it to?

Oh man, this is a tough one. I think the easiest one would be changing Firesoul from fantasy to steampunk-fantasy, a la Perdido Street Station by China Miéville, but I’m not sure if that counts. The idea of an urban fantasy God-Dragon’s Wife is interesting, too.

13.  What’s your favorite writing POV? First person? Third person limited? One or multiple POV’s?

I prefer Third Person Omniscient or Third Person Limited, but I will (very rarely) write in First Person, and even a little Second Person.

14.  Have you thought of a title for your WIP? How did you pick it?

All my WIPs have titles, but the one that was hardest was Out of the Park, because it’s way too cliché and I only picked it because I needed something to call the project.

15.  How easy is it for you to come up with outfits for your OCs?

Depends on the character. Xinya is the hardest, because all of her outfits have to be super elaborate and have to fit in with her culture, but Hayden? Jeans and a t-shirt. Easy.

16.  Who is the oldest OC in your WIP? (Either in-universe or when you made them.)

In-universe, Xinya is the oldest human at thirty-three. Yu-Qi easily surpasses that by like ten thousand years, but she’s an eternal dragon deity, so.

In real life, Teconia is the oldest. Believe it or not, I made her for my first D&D campaign, and then decided I liked her so much I would make a whole story about her.

17.  Have you ever written fanfiction (even if it wasn’t posted online?)

Yes! I write a lot of fan fiction, and though most of it hasn’t left my flash drive, I have an AO3 account, with a couple of works-in-progress. Come say hello!

18.  What are your OC’s favorite colors? (List as many or as few as you want)

Teconia: bright orange, green, red

Xinya: dark blue, silver, light pink

Hayden: purple, yellow, lime green

Park: grass green, rusty red-brown, gold

19.  What is the most significant/important/often-appearing object in your WIP? Or, what is one object that one of your OCs cherishes?

D…dragons. In almost all of them, it’s dragons. Can you tell that I like dragons?

20.  What’s that one word that you can never seem to spell correctly?

This isn’t really a spelling thing, but I will never ever remember the difference between affect and effect. I’ve had it explained to me countless times, but I will never get it. I’ll be confused for the rest of my life.

21.  Which arc do you like better/think is more interesting: a hero who starts slowly slipping into evil, or a villain who decides to try to be good?

I think both have their perks, but the villain that tries to do good has a special place in my heart because it shows that people can change, which is a dose of positivity that I think we all need right now.

22.  Do you have any minor characters that are trying very, very hard to become one of the mains?

You know, I thought Yu-Qi would be happy staying the love interest. But now she wants to be a co-protagonist with Xinya. That’s what I get for making her literally a god.

23.  Weirdest thing you’ve been inspired by?

I read a fan fiction once, and I thought, “Psh. I could write that better.”

And now I have The God-Dragon’s Wife.

24.  Which character is closest to a self-insert?

In a way, all of my characters have some aspect of me in them, or some kind of trait I wish I had. Teconia has my kindness – the kindness that’s probably too nice. Park has the confidence I wish I had a lot of the time, but also the fear that I’ll never be good enough. I gave Hayden my anxiety (sorry), but also the determination to push through it that I need. Xinya is pleasant in polite company, but behind closed doors she’s a very angry character, which is something that I’ve been dealing with lately.

I guess I just don’t like the term “self-insert,” because all of my characters are me as much as they’re their own characters. They can be both.  

25.  Favorite season?

I’m assuming you mean my favorite season. It’s summer.

26.  Do you eat appetizers when you go out to eat?

Short answer: Yes

Long answer: If they serve mozzarella sticks, you bet your ass I will eat every single one of those fuckers unless someone holds me back. Also, if you try and separate me from gyoza, you will have your arms separated from your body.

27.  What is something you’re scared to write about?

Romance. I don’t know why, but I always feel like it comes off very stiff and impersonal when I write it, so I’ve been avoiding it for a long time.

28.  Favorite fantasy book series? (I need recommendations ;))

The. Inheritance. Cycle. Ho-lee shit, I have been talking about this series since I was in first grade, and I will never shut up. The first book is Eragon by Christopher Paolini. If you read it (or if anyone reading this has read it before) feel free to drop in and scream at me. I’m always ready.

29.  The most you’ve ever written at one time?

I don’t remember, actually! I think it might have been… when I wrote 8k words in a day?

30.  When do you like to write?

Whenever I can, but mostly at night. Which is not doing my sleeping schedule any favors, I’ll tell you that.

31.  Why is coming up with questions the most difficult part?

Good question. I have no idea.

32.  Which character would cry over a marvel movie?

Teconia, for sure.

33.  First character you created. Why?

My first character was a girl who had the werewolf-esque ability to turn into a dragon. She was pretty much my ideal self.

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Call Me Maybe (With @InMyOwnMhis)

Jagger: -The air had a crisp quality to it, the kind that made you want to fill your lungs because the oxygen content was notable. It made me feel alive. Oh, irony, you satirical bitch. My state of body was robust while I sought out my destination for the night:  The Iron Mask. My reconnaissance over the course of several evenings had pinpointed the goth hang as a likely locale for the source, or at least close to it. I’d tailed one of the enemy with gritted teeth, his scent so strong it singed my nostrils, guy was the Pig Pen of lessers and gave the pungence of bleu cheese a new lease on pleasant. His carelessness was my boon. He’d had a wad in his pocket that could only be bills when he’d disappeared around the backside. When he’d strolled back a short twenty ticks of the minute hand later, the pocket had greatly atrophied. I’d observed the routine for long enough to confirm some sort of connection. My will power was tested beyond normal limits as I watched the enemy disappear. I need not draw any attention by becoming some vigilante for this new enterprising group of lessers. After several toe taps of impatience and two nights, I’d decided it was time to disappear inside the heart of the beast, and I was seeing the place with new eyes. It wasn’t just a vampire friendly club pumping industrial through the speakers, it was a well veiled front for something bigger, something I wanted no part of. Was it possible vampires were in bed with lessers? My moves would have to be calculated. I slinked through the shadows, in and out of dark corners meant to give privacy for sex, drugs or the whatever-the-fuck-the-patrons-pleased. Finally I found someone on the verge of nodding out. Before the drugs took them under, I had a seat right next to the guy. Without a word, I flashed them the symbol I’d removed from the baggie and what do ya know, they pulled out their own to match before consciousness was lost. Right. On to the next one. I’d climb each rung of the ladder until I hit top, or in the least leveled up a few times. It was a game that walked the line between going unnoticed and drawing attention, the latter of which would be necessary, but it still had to be the right kind. Junkies two, three and four were clueless about what I was after. When user number five finally gave me more than a “hi how’re ya” with her bag of snortables, it wasn’t the answer I’d sought, instead she’d dead-ended all my efforts, letting me in on the fact I wasn’t going to find anything with this mark inside the Mask. I hit the bar, perching on an end stool to saturate my disappointment in something overly expensive while I mulled over square one.- Assail: After a long night of pulling details from a barely coherent drug addict, I had a description. No name, no vehicle, not even a direction of flight. The user was so far gone, his brain must have been mush. For those kinds of clients, only the best product would do. Which was why he bought from me, clearly. For a moment I had entertained the idea that maybe he was bait, meant to lure out my dealers while the Brotherhood laid in waiting. But it took barely five minutes in the human’s apartment to know that he was barely surviving, and he lacked sufficient focus to do anything besides get from one hit to the next. The twins and I made our way to the Iron Mask the following night. I wasn’t due to see Evayhne again but they needed to feed, so a trip was necessary. I would stay out of the VIP section this eve, so as not to distract my informant from her duties. Perhaps I’d admire from afar, watch how she handles her clients and acts the host. While mine cousins made their way into the crowd, I hung back, arms crossed over my chest while I waited near the bar. The humans were rowdy as always, bodies and scents mixing as they dabbled unknowingly in the supernatural. My eyes danced across the crowd, thankful the headache that plagued me the eve prior had faded after a hot meal and another round of sleeping like the dead. This felt oddly like the days leading up to my transition many, /many/ years ago. But I knew it was just my body running on fumes, on coke instead of blood. Soon I’d remedy that. For now, I had a killer and some cash to find. I sensed something, my eyes flicking back, something had caught my attention. It was Evale. His gaze had sought mine across the busy club, and hadn’t failed. We were connected in that way, mine cousins and myself. It came from spending so much time together over so many years. We were closer than cousins, closer than brothers. Kin of a different kind. Evale didn’t say anything--not that I could have heard him over the pounding bass, even with vampire senses--just nodded towards the other end of the bar I was leaning against. I turned and looked… and Scribe be. A male slouched at the other end, dark hair, bright eyes, stubbled jaw, and the tell tale jacket with the scuffed elbow. Just how the human described it. He hadn’t remembered much, but he had glanced back and watched the males face off as he ran for his pathetic life. I moved instantly, mentally chastising myself for not thinking that the wannabe-Brother may come here looking for more addicts, more dealers. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong druglord. The dealer had been mine, not Rehv’s. I claimed the stool two down from him, a drunk human male hugging his bottle of beer in between us. As his head fell lower and lower, I sat back, eyeing up the vampire. I’d seen that look before. It was equal parts pain, desperation, and acceptance. “Need a pick-me-up, son?” I tossed a bag his way, one with my signature emblem on it. This was going to be fun. Jagger -I wasn’t sure which offense came first, the unpleasant ring of the word “son” scorching my eardrums as the sound carried across the slick bar, or the insult of the bag of drugs that was flicked my way.  The implication was derogatory at best. The injuries were eased when I caught sight of what had been sent my way, complete with the mark I’d been seeking.  I noted the drunk side-eyeing between us in my periphery before quickly covering the packet that matched the lot back home. I didn’t act in the immediate. First, I scoped out the delivery boy.  He was a polished, sharp male but with somewhat vacant eyes, which almost made him feel kindred. Almost. His pupils were well dilated which could be a result of the sooty light of the club, or maybe he was sampling what was on offer. Didn’t care. Whoever he was he was a bridge, or at least a few squares of the hopscotch closer to the man in charge. This was a twist I didn’t see coming. Right place. Wrong place. Right place. Dosed face. Smug face. Drunk face. Night had the makings of Dr. Seuss all over it. Time to turn the page to the next part of the book. My gut churned, unsure of how any of this was going to go. Clearly there’d been eyes on me, but whose? I did a quick scan, but blurs of grey and black with hints of red lips and fleshtones streaking the moving canvas turned up no audience I could detect. This transaction was not for crowd consumption so without a word, I stood, kicking up my chin just barely at the one in the know. Destination was a fairly unpopulated corner of the place between two thick columns, clearly meant for discretion but not completely out of the fray. The elbow room could only be described as cozy and that made my collar feel more constricting.  I hadn’t bothered to check to make sure I’d been followed, pretty sure the contraband in my pocket would ensure the RSVP to the impromptu party. Rotating to face my pursuer, a flat grin my most generous offer along with the packet that I’d snatched off the bar in my open palm.- Forget something? Assail I knew it was ballsy to toss around my product in the Reverend’s home, but as long as the young vampire didn’t go running to Trez and the female bouncer who ran things, I doubted anyone would notice. The real deals went down in the VIP section, where the rich and the King’s warriors spent their time. This side of the club was mostly humans. Desperate, sweaty pigs that they were. The male stood, giving me a quick nod before wandering into the crowd. And I was meant to follow. He must have no idea how things worked in my world. I glanced over, catching Evale’s eye once more. His head tipped and I knew he and Ehric would flank me, abandoning their companions until my safety was ensured. They’d be invisible in the crowd, mere shadows amongst the bodies that writhed to the heavy bass pounding inside the club. Soon my target and I were hidden among the vertical beams that supported the roof of the Iron Mask. I met his gaze with amusement, his eyes dark, and so very angry. His face was tightly held sheet over something much bloodier. His veil was thin… fraying at the edges. Wouldn’t take much to unravel the whole thing. My lips twitched in amusement. I did love a slow destruction. Patience was a virtue, and I had centuries ahead of me still. I lifted a hand and drew the design on the packet with my fingertip, tapping it gently when I was done. I didn’t take the baggie back. “Let me see... Lonely male, sulking at the human bar? Check. Shady corner of the club for a little privacy? Check. Bag of happy drugs? Check. Am I forgetting something? I think not.” Jagger -Eau du Cavalier was coming off this city slicker in thick wafts. By some sleight of hand he both blended in and stood out in the surroundings, but his bold assumptions were off by more than a little. I was momentarily tempted to pin the bag he’d failed to retrieve with a fingertip to his chest, but my war was not with him and I was not looking to incite confrontation. My energy was reserved for the enemy of the race alone, and there was no need for the unessential. Despite the arrogance, the potential to keep the transaction quick and clean seemed to reside between myself and this male, he didn’t seem the type to rough up the baby-soft knuckles. Definitely upper echelon, maybe even glymera and not any kind of scrapper. The glaze of vacancy in his eyes could have been hiding something, however. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes in a manner that felt shrewd.- If I wanted this, I wouldn’t have needed to make the trip. So how about I help you off the ASS-YOU-ME train and onto my track? -Reaching in my back pocket to pull out the emblem I’d so carefully removed from my unintended bounty-slash-burden, attempting a more direct approach rather than the surface banter. Games weren’t on the agenda.- I need to connect with the top dog. Seeing as you have some of his product at the ready, you’re my new escort, ya dig? Trust, he’ll want to talk to me.  Maybe you’ll even pass go and collect two-hundred dollars before we’re all done. -My lack of social experience put me at a disadvantage. I was hawk-like in my observations, but reading people did not come natural to me. My shining example of a father had left me with nothing but the uncouth to abide by and my resistance to his tendencies were my greatest strength. My mother’s kindness and unfailingly beautiful heart, alternatively, had only given me the other end of the spectrum. I was lost somewhere in the in between. Neither here, nor there. A lost cause. A young, but weary soul. My poker face was the only thing I had going for me, as to not let on to this male that I was completely out of my element.- Assail This was just too precious. The male was playing the same game he accused me of. He assumed I was just a dealer. He assumed I’d take orders from him. He assumed he could just swagger his way into the den of a sleeping bear, bang some pots and pans, and the beast would cower in fear. Now I smiled, all teeth. It wasn’t a friendly gesture. “You want to meet the bossman? I think I can make that happen.” I pulled out my phone and called Evale. He accepted the call without speaking. The only indication he had answered was the sound of the same club music echoing on a short delay in my ear. I spoke to the silence, not waiting for a reply. There wouldn’t be one with Evale. “I need to see the boss. Is he available this eve? Aye… thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” I hung up and pushed my phone into my breast pocket. Then I slid my hand into the ballsy male’s, palming the bag of drugs. I lifted it and crooked my finger. Turning without a word, I headed towards the side door, forcing him to follow me as he had done earlier. Funny how the tables turned. Pushing outside, the twins were waiting by the Tahoe already. Their meals had been postponed indefinitely, but I would make sure they fed before the sun rose next. Mine cousins each opened one of the back doors. I almost giggled like a young. Oh yes, this male was about to meet the boss. Up close and very personal. I gave Ehric a look. He knew where to take us. Jagger -That smile rivaled that of a shark and it was somewhat emasculating that it sent a chill up my spine, one I’d never admit. My eyes narrowed but more in a manner of measuring what Mack the Knife was holding behind that gate of pearly whites. There was zero time for speculation when he took back the wares he had so readily offered me. Instinct was punching at my ribs like a couple of fists going at a speed bag when he went all come hither with his finger. My guts clearly wanted to send the message: You’ve been played, fucker. I was damn confident the whole offer had been a ruse. Or had it? Neither of were showing our cards, and I was only used to having me, myself and I as an opponent at any table that wasn’t a city street. Composure was my best bet even as my feet wanted to play cement block with the floor, so I forced myself to follow. The night air temporarily rolled out the welcome mat with its sobering edge of cool, but it didn’t last, the effect waning when I got an eyeful of SUV. I told myself it would work out despite the organized crime vibe that was rolling so hard. I told myself I wasn’t the over-sexualized female in the horror flick walking into the decrepit barn full of macabre death traps. I told myself it was not my time and that I wasn’t going out like this. But as I stepped up into the awaiting ride, certainty was off the menu and a watery grave was the Blue Plate Special.- Assail Not a word was spoken as we traveled. I held back the victorious smirk that threatened to push my cheeks up, mine cousins playing their roles perfectly as we headed down to the docks. There was a corner in plain view I used for some of my dealings. It appeared inconspicuous upon arrival, tame, even. But the few lights dotting the area played tricks on the eyes, and it wasn’t until you were mere meters from the spot that you realized just how dark and shadowed it was. Even vampires were caught unaware. It was a short jaunt from the club to my waterfront view, and as we pulled up, I could feel the jitters working through my companion. He played it perfectly calm, which impressed me more than I cared to admit. Normally by now my guests would be shaky, babbling messes. I had heard every form of begging, been offered any and everything as payment, even kin had been presented for barter. As Ehric and Evale climbed out and took post next to our doors, I peered over at my passanger. “What name am I presenting you as? I do prefer to keep things formal. We are gentlemales, after all.” I pressed my jacket into place as my question lingered in the air, the vial of blow burning hot against my chest. I craved a hit. But it would have to wait. Jagger -Suspicions were plugged into an amp when we pulled up to meet the “boss” after an uncomfortably quiet albeit short ride. Comfort zone was a no show allowing heat to lick under my arms. The perspiration didn’t reach my brows which was only a slight victory, because my pulse would not be lost on my escorts.  It was also unpalatable irony that I’d ended up in the exact scenario I’d been aiming to avoid. I internally floated the question on whether the boss was named Titan, considering there was nothing but water for an office at our destination. My composure broke when I snorted a laugh at the term “gentlemales” despite the fine threads that clothed the guy next to me. Sure, I’d encountered males of worth, but overall the scales had been tipped in a direction towards the dirt, the grit and the greed of the male population. Image did not make the man. Dear old dad had stripped all illusion of such from as soon as I could comprehend and reinforced the notion at every damned opportunity.  I’d be more likely to be convinced that unicorns existed and were responsible for shitting rainbows all over the sky while playing in the rain clouds. I momentarily considered my naivety walking into this situation. I was unarmed, outmanned and completely green when it came to this kind of dealing. Still, there was an edge of excitement that buzzed under the surface, maybe the detour from monotony would give me a new lease on life. Nah.- Jagger.  -I left out anything else. The name that branded me. The one I wished to escape, the one I could not. There was no use in that disclosure, especially if I was about to swallow lead.- Assail Jagger. Just, Jagger. No surname. No father’s heritage to dig into. Nothing I could use. I scowled, unhappy with his response. Offended at his snort. Was his accent of preference that of a cock-grabbing, long-legged swaggering, baggy low-belted human who thought himself some sort of gangster? They had no idea what a real mobsters did. Humans were feeble imitators. And this male… Did vampire males no longer announce their family when they introduced themselves? Were manners so hard to come by now? I knew I was a bit old fashioned, but even I had the self-respect to provide my full name when someone asked it. Assail, son of Assail. My name carried quite a legacy, I was as Old Country, as old world, as old money as they came in the vampire world. Mine blood could compete with the Blind King’s when it came to purity. He was the only pureblood left. I guessed mine at about 98% unblended. Enough games. I was itching for a hit, my tolerance for bullshitting was low, and I had two males waiting outside the car that I had promised a feed-and-fuck session at Iron Mask this eve. My arm shot out, grabbing the male by the back of the neck. I slammed his head into the window, hard enough to hear it crack. Or perhaps that was his hard skull. I kept my grip tight, fingers digging into the skin of his neck. “Formalities are for the patient. Of which I am not at the moment. You, Jagger, son-of-whomever, owe me a dealer. And his earnings. The drugs I can replace, but the cash is something I cannot import into Caldwell.” Jagger -It was enlightening how tastes of death could in turn make you feel alive. Clearly my introduction had sat on this male’s last nerve. The dig of his fingertips into my neck threatened the integrity of my spine, and when my face met unyielding glass, the split of my skin above my eye intensified as the knock to the skull radiated a throbbing ache so powerful it numbed my lips. The blood gushed out, blurring my vision in one eye, casting a red filter over my sight. I licked across my bottom lip, tasting my mortality before a genuine smile presented and I met his gaze. Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out after all. Of course, Mr. Must-Be-The-Boss wouldn’t allow me the departure without his due.- Son of Rhuin if you need more reason to detest me. And might I ask your lineage since it is such an important talking point to you? -I purposely ignored acknowledgement of what I owed him. I wasn’t done with his ire; I wanted to explore it, sick, twisted and masochistic as that made me. Casting my gaze downward in acknowledgement of dear old dad. He’d been the one to invite this punishment. His actions were the ones I could never live down. His legacy was my death wish.- Assail Son of… Rhuin. I couldnae remember if I knew that name or if I’d just heard so many in my long lifetime that they all sounded familiar the now. And the way he spat out his father’s lineage had me wondering what sort of dissonance had driven it’s sharp wedge in between them. The only thing worse than politics and religion was family. Aye, Jagger, son of Rhuin hung his head and I could see now that he didn’t just lack the proper manners in announcing himself. He chose specifically /not/ to tie his name to his father’s. That was quite interesting indeed. My grip on his nape tightened once again, forcing his head to lift in my direction so I could pierce those daddy-didn’t-love-me eyes with my own dark stare. “I shall gladly do you the honor, Jagger, son of Rhuin. I am Assail, son of Assail. And in case your now-bruised head hasn’t figured it out yet, I /am/ the boss. Furthermore, in case those ears of yours aren’t working quite right either the now, I said: You owe me a dealer and his earnings. You took one of mine down the other night and made off with his cash. Now the question is, how do we fix this situation? I’m thinking perhaps if you are desperate enough for money to kill a dealer, then mayhaps you could not only pay back what you stole, but earn a little extra for yourself by playing my little errand boy.” Jagger -Errand boy. The fuck? I’d sooner meet my end. That little delivery of expectation left my mind ringing as much as the knock to my face. I let the fuzzy thoughts come back into focus before attempting my response, and now this male was going to listen to me. It didn’t matter if he had his hand wrapped precariously around my neck. If it was due to be snapped, so be it, still wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of me. There was the briefest moment of envy that flashed between heartbeats when the male so proudly stated his predecessor and namesake. Clearly he was not lineage-challenged like myself. I would use this to buff and shine his ego a bit. There was but one angle for me to take.- Assail, son of Assail. My mistake in taking you for anything other than the man in charge. My ignorance precedes me. Apologies. I was not so well graced as you were with your sire. -My flat tone was not meant in a manner of disrespect but to tamp down on the seething that that happened when I saw his aim from a fuller vantage.- Good? Good. Now, hear this. I will not be in bed in with the enemy, though they seem to be your current bedmates of choice figuratively speaking, natch. Brotherhood know about this? -I let the question hang for a moment, this was my only leverage in the negotiation, and my sticking point.- Guessing not. -Raising a hand before any protests or defenses can be raised.- It’s not my intent to make any trouble for you with the Brotherhood. Not my business.  I’ll return what I pulled off that lesser along with whatever sum of cash you demand. Errand boy is on you. Fair, no? Assail This male had balls the size of my Tahoe, and it displeased me that even with my long fingers wrapped around his neck, he still saw fit to think he could run this negotiation. As if I was about to negotiate. My other hand grabbed the door handle, popping it open. “Remove him from my vehicle,” I spoke softly to Ehric. Jagger’s door immediately opened, Evale grabbing him by his jacket and pulling his body outside. A second later I was out my side, Ehric and myself rounding the back as Evale held my guest against the vehicle. Once we got close Ehric grabbed him as well. There was no chance of escape. I sneered, fangs out, leaning in close enough to the male that each pore on his nose was visible to mine eyes. The flecks of color in his eyes were burned into my memory as I spoke. “If you think to threaten me with the Brotherhood, you should know… I operate outside their rules. I bend to no one. I serve mine own needs, and no one else’s, not even the Blind King himself. That being said, if you wish to hang a threat of exposure over my head, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to simply remove your tongue. No words, no tattling.” I drew my finger across the wrist of his arm as Ehric held him in place. “Fingers might have to go as well, can’t have any notes left in the First Advisor to the King’s mailbox.” I let those ideas sink in for a moment, stepping back and pulling out a cigar. I needed something to calm me, something to focus my senses on since I couldn’t take a hit at the moment. A spark, a flame in the dark of the night, and I was in business, puffing a few times as thoughts moved about inside mine head. Finally I turned and focused on the male again. “Ten thousand. That is what you owe me. And one favor, one you vow to complete the now, but shall be called due at a later date.” I nodded at Evale, who retrieved the male’s cell phone from his pocket. Mine cousin called my cell phone with it, the sliver in mine pocket vibrating twice before he ended the call. “Now I have your number, Jagger, son of Rhuin,” I pulled the cigar from my mouth and pointed at him with it. “Ten thousand. One favor. You’ll only have one errand to run in the end.” I leaned in close, our noses bumping together as I mocked his earlier sentiment. “Fair?” Jagger -Reflexes had my hand going to my neck at the moment I was pinned like the tail on the donkey to the body of the SUV. This invited my first rise of panic, not for the manhandling but instead for the lack of my mother’s cross, enhanced by the accompanying throb at my throat left behind by the insistent rush of blood back to the scene of the former grip of my captor. I somehow managed not to lose my shit over my most sentimental possession, reigning it in as  focus shifted to the male in front of me, his patience seemingly dusted. There was no missing the slick line of his bared fangs or the hit of his breath on my face. He no doubt hadn’t missed my thick swallow within the intimate range he chose. I otherwise didn’t flinch. Not at the idea of losing my tongue. Not when he traced an invisible guide on my wrist to threaten its severing. The chill that climbed my spine was involuntary and somehow triggered by the proximity of a warm body. Strange. I met his bravado with an upturn of my lips, then observed with a keen eye as he stepped back, noting a small tremble in his hand as he raised a cigar to his, plumes of smoke circling his head as if choreographed with their perfect rings. Demands were laid out in a tone that held no give, edged with a deadly undercurrent. Helpless to stop the retrieval of my phone and the silent orders carried about by the mute Ehric and Evale, I let them shake me down without protest, again unflinching when met with Assail’s mocking final word and kiss of our noses that could only be classified as posturing. I shrugged in the hold of the henchmen as much as my restricted position allowed.- As I indicated before rage affected your hearing, I’ve no interest in reporting you to the Brotherhood. You will have your favor and the sum, Assail son of Assail. -There was no point in making counter demands. As soon as I was free from his bulldogs’ sweaty grips, I’d be master of my own ceremonies again. I’d every intention of carrying out the favor and paying my penance, so long as the male did not put me in league with the enemy. I could not allow that, but my new “friend” needn’t know it.- Assail I sensed his agreement to my terms wasn’t the victory he sought this eve, and although it didn’t bring me as much pleasure as I’d hoped, it did put a win in my column. I’d get my cash back, and a favor of my choosing some time in the future. Which would take careful choosing, as this male, this… Jagger, son of Rhuin, I sensed was something other than the usual young males I ran into in my line of business. They were usually half-cocked with their swagger hanging out. Jagger, while stubborn and ballsy, wasnae as foolish as the typical bullheaded male. I could tell he was perceptive, and while he had made a mistake this eve in assuming I was the errand boy, he got wise to what was really going on the instant we stepped out of the Iron Mask. A male like him could mayhaps be useful one day. Look at you, Assail. Recruiting like the Brotherhood. I had a worthy informant, the lovely Evayhne. And now I was scouting a male whose origins I must needs research further. Rhuin. I would find his lineage. I glanced at the twins, nodding once as I puffed on my cigar. “Let him go the now.”  They did so immediately, but stood close by in case Jagger felt the need to retaliate now that his arms and legs were of his own use again. “I will be in touch, Jagger. Give you instructions on where to bring the cash. I assume a fortnight will be enough time. If it’s not, you can bring me what you have and we’ll discuss how to handle the balance.” With that, I turned away, stepping down towards the docks, under the cloak of night away from the low lights of the Tahoe’s interior. The twins would ensure Jagger’s departure. I had other things to ponder the now. Jagger -Although the night had ended up with a few rough edges and a small sacrifice of blood, the outcome wasn’t so far off the mark of what I’d hoped, save for one thing. There was no weight on my shoulders for the tithe Assail had demanded for my inadvertent meddling in his business. He would eventually be pleased to find how true I intended to be with my word. But the night had not been without its loss. My heart sunk like an anchor from my chest to the floor of my guts at the notice of the loss of my most priceless possession.  For surely as it was missing from around my neck, the gravity of my mother’s absent cross bore down like an elephant having a sit in on my pectorals. It was hard to draw air. With my symbolic and physical tie to her gone, the confirmation had been penned in permanent ink; my time was coming.  There was nothing left for Jagger son of Rhuin in this life. With that revelation in mind and no further word, I dematerialized into the night.-    #CallMeMaybe

[inmyownmhis]

Call Me Maybe (with @BulletPunchCut)

Jagger:

-The air had a crisp quality to it, the kind that made you want to fill your lungs because the oxygen content was notable. It made me feel alive.

Oh, irony, you satirical bitch.

My state of body was robust while I sought out my destination for the night:  The Iron Mask.

My reconnaissance over the course of several evenings had pinpointed the goth hang as a likely locale for the source, or at least close to it. I’d tailed one of the enemy with gritted teeth, his scent so strong it singed my nostrils, guy was the Pig Pen of lessers and gave the pungent aroma of bleu cheese a new lease on pleasant. His carelessness was my boon. He’d had a wad in his pocket that could only be bills when he’d disappeared around the backside. When he’d strolled back a short twenty ticks of the minute hand later, the pocket had greatly atrophied.

I’d observed the routine for long enough to confirm some sort of connection. My will power was tested beyond normal limits as I watched the enemy disappear. I need not draw any attention by becoming some vigilante for this new enterprising group of lessers.

After several toe taps of impatience and two nights, I’d decided it was time to disappear inside the heart of the beast, and I was seeing the place with new eyes. It wasn’t just a vampire friendly club pumping industrial through the speakers, it was a well veiled front for something bigger, something I wanted no part of.

Was it possible vampires were in bed with lessers?

My moves would have to be calculated. I slinked through the shadows, in and out of dark corners meant to give privacy for sex, drugs or the whatever-the-fuck-the-patrons-pleased. Finally I found someone on the verge of nodding out. Before the drugs took them under, I had a seat right next to the guy. Without a word, I flashed them the symbol I’d removed from the baggie and what do ya know, they pulled out their own to match before consciousness was lost.

Right. On to the next one.

I’d climb each rung of the ladder until I hit top, or in the least leveled up a few times. It was a game that walked the line between going unnoticed and drawing attention, the latter of which would be necessary, but it still had to be the right kind. Junkies two, three and four were clueless about what I was after. When user number five finally gave me more than a “hi how’re ya” with her bag of snortables, it wasn’t the answer I’d sought, instead she’d dead-ended all my efforts, letting me in on the fact I wasn’t going to find anything with this mark inside the Mask. I hit the bar, perching on an end stool to saturate my disappointment in something overly expensive while I mulled over square one.-

Assail:

After a long night of pulling details from a barely coherent drug addict, I had a description. No name, no vehicle, not even a direction of flight. The user was so far gone, his brain must have been mush. For those kinds of clients, only the best product would do. Which was why he bought from me, clearly. For a moment I had entertained the idea that maybe he was bait, meant to lure out my dealers while the Brotherhood laid in waiting. But it took barely five minutes in the human’s apartment to know that he was barely surviving, and he lacked sufficient focus to do anything besides get from one hit to the next.

The twins and I made our way to the Iron Mask the following night. I wasn’t due to see Evayhne again but they needed to feed, so a trip was necessary. I would stay out of the VIP section this eve, so as not to distract my informant from her duties. Perhaps I’d admire from afar, watch how she handles her clients and acts the host. While mine cousins made their way into the crowd, I hung back, arms crossed over my chest while I waited near the bar. The humans were rowdy as always, bodies and scents mixing as they dabbled unknowingly in the supernatural. My eyes danced across the crowd, thankful the headache that plagued me the eve prior had faded after a hot meal and another round of sleeping like the dead. This felt oddly like the days leading up to my transition many, /many/ years ago. But I knew it was just my body running on fumes, on coke instead of blood. Soon I’d remedy that. For now, I had a killer and some cash to find.

I sensed something, my eyes flicking back, something had caught my attention. It was Evale. His gaze had sought mine across the busy club, and hadn’t failed. We were connected in that way, mine cousins and myself. It came from spending so much time together over so many years. We were closer than cousins, closer than brothers. Kin of a different kind. Evale didn’t say anything--not that I could have heard him over the pounding bass, even with vampire senses--just nodded towards the other end of the bar I was leaning against. I turned and looked… and Scribe be. A male slouched at the other end, dark hair, bright eyes, stubbled jaw, and the tell tale jacket with the scuffed elbow. Just how the human described it. He hadn’t remembered much, but he had glanced back and watched the males face off as he ran for his pathetic life.

I moved instantly, mentally chastising myself for not thinking that the wannabe-Brother may come here looking for more addicts, more dealers. Little did he know he was barking up the wrong druglord. The dealer had been mine, not Rehv’s. I claimed the stool two down from him, a drunk human male hugging his bottle of beer in between us. As his head fell lower and lower, I sat back, eyeing up the vampire. I’d seen that look before. It was equal parts pain, desperation, and acceptance.

“Need a pick-me-up, son?” I tossed a bag his way, one with my signature emblem on it. This was going to be fun.

Jagger

-I wasn’t sure which offense came first, the unpleasant ring of the word “son” scorching my eardrums as the sound carried across the slick bar, or the insult of the bag of drugs that was flicked my way.  The implication was derogatory at best.

The injuries were eased when I caught sight of what had been sent my way, complete with the mark I’d been seeking.  I noted the drunk side-eyeing between us in my periphery before quickly covering the packet that matched the lot back home. I didn’t act in the immediate. First, I scoped out the delivery boy.  He was a polished, sharp male but with somewhat vacant eyes, which almost made him feel kindred. Almost. His pupils were well dilated which could be a result of the sooty light of the club, or maybe he was sampling what was on offer. Didn’t care. Whoever he was he was a bridge, or at least a few squares of the hopscotch closer to the man in charge.

This was a twist I didn’t see coming.

Right place. Wrong place. Right place.

Dosed face. Smug face. Drunk face.

Night had the makings of Dr. Seuss all over it. Time to turn the page to the next part of the book.

My gut churned, unsure of how any of this was going to go. Clearly there’d been eyes on me, but whose? I did a quick scan, but blurs of grey and black with hints of red lips and fleshtones streaking the moving canvas turned up no audience I could detect. This transaction was not for crowd consumption so without a word, I stood, kicking up my chin just barely at the one in the know.

Destination was a fairly unpopulated corner of the place between two thick columns, clearly meant for discretion but not completely out of the fray. The elbow room could only be described as cozy and that made my collar feel more constricting.  I hadn’t bothered to check to make sure I’d been followed, pretty sure the contraband in my pocket would ensure the RSVP to the impromptu party.

Rotating to face my pursuer, a flat grin my most generous offer along with the packet that I’d snatched off the bar in my open palm.- Forget something?

Assail

I knew it was ballsy to toss around my product in the Reverend’s home, but as long as the young vampire didn’t go running to Trez and the female bouncer who ran things, I doubted anyone would notice. The real deals went down in the VIP section, where the rich and the King’s warriors spent their time. This side of the club was mostly humans. Desperate, sweaty pigs that they were. The male stood, giving me a quick nod before wandering into the crowd. And I was meant to follow.

He must have no idea how things worked in my world. I glanced over, catching Evale’s eye once more. His head tipped and I knew he and Ehric would flank me, abandoning their companions until my safety was ensured. They’d be invisible in the crowd, mere shadows amongst the bodies that writhed to the heavy bass pounding inside the club.

Soon my target and I were hidden among the vertical beams that supported the roof of the Iron Mask. I met his gaze with amusement, his eyes dark, and so very angry. His face was tightly held sheet over something much bloodier. His veil was thin… fraying at the edges. Wouldn’t take much to unravel the whole thing. My lips twitched in amusement. I did love a slow destruction. Patience was a virtue, and I had centuries ahead of me still. I lifted a hand and drew the design on the packet with my fingertip, tapping it gently when I was done. I didn’t take the baggie back.

“Let me see... Lonely male, sulking at the human bar? Check. Shady corner of the club for a little privacy? Check. Bag of happy drugs? Check. Am I forgetting something? I think not.”

Jagger

-Eau du Cavalier was coming off this city slicker in thick wafts. By some sleight of hand he both blended in and stood out in the surroundings, but his bold assumptions were off by more than a little.

I was momentarily tempted to pin the bag he’d failed to retrieve with a fingertip to his chest, but my war was not with him and I was not looking to incite confrontation. My energy was reserved for the enemy of the race alone, and there was no need for the unessential. Despite the arrogance, the potential to keep the transaction quick and clean seemed to reside between myself and this male, he didn’t seem the type to rough up the baby-soft knuckles. Definitely upper echelon, maybe even glymera and not any kind of scrapper. The glaze of vacancy in his eyes could have been hiding something, however. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes in a manner that felt shrewd.-

If I wanted this, I wouldn’t have needed to make the trip. So how about I help you off the ASS-YOU-ME train and onto my track?

-Reaching in my back pocket to pull out the emblem I’d so carefully removed from my unintended bounty-slash-burden, attempting a more direct approach rather than the surface banter. Games weren’t on the agenda.-

I need to connect with the top dog. Seeing as you have some of his product at the ready, you’re my new escort, ya dig? Trust, he’ll want to talk to me.  Maybe you’ll even pass go and collect two-hundred dollars before we’re all done.

-My lack of social experience put me at a disadvantage. I was hawk-like in my observations, but reading people did not come natural to me. My shining example of a father had left me with nothing but the uncouth to abide by and my resistance to his tendencies were my greatest strength. My mother’s kindness and unfailingly beautiful heart, alternatively, had only given me the other end of the spectrum. I was lost somewhere in the in between. Neither here, nor there. A lost cause. A young, but weary soul. My poker face was the only thing I had going for me, as to not let on to this male that I was completely out of my element.-

Assail

This was just too precious. The male was playing the same game he accused me of. He assumed I was just a dealer. He assumed I’d take orders from him. He assumed he could just swagger his way into the den of a sleeping bear, bang some pots and pans, and the beast would cower in fear. Now I smiled, all teeth. It wasn’t a friendly gesture.

“You want to meet the bossman? I think I can make that happen.”

I pulled out my phone and called Evale. He accepted the call without speaking. The only indication he had answered was the sound of the same club music echoing on a short delay in my ear. I spoke to the silence, not waiting for a reply. There wouldn’t be one with Evale.

“I need to see the boss. Is he available this eve? Aye… thank you. We’ll be there shortly.”

I hung up and pushed my phone into my breast pocket. Then I slid my hand into the ballsy male’s, palming the bag of drugs. I lifted it and crooked my finger. Turning without a word, I headed towards the side door, forcing him to follow me as he had done earlier. Funny how the tables turned. Pushing outside, the twins were waiting by the Tahoe already. Their meals had been postponed indefinitely, but I would make sure they fed before the sun rose next. Mine cousins each opened one of the back doors. I almost giggled like a young. Oh yes, this male was about to meet the boss. Up close and very personal. I gave Ehric a look. He knew where to take us.

Jagger

-That smile rivaled that of a shark and it was somewhat emasculating that it sent a chill up my spine, one I’d never admit. My eyes narrowed but more in a manner of measuring what Mack the Knife was holding behind that gate of pearly whites. There was zero time for speculation when he took back the wares he had so readily offered me. Instinct was punching at my ribs like a couple of fists going at a speed bag when he went all come hither with his finger. My guts clearly wanted to send the message: You’ve been played, fucker. I was damn confident the whole offer had been a ruse. Or had it? Neither of us were showing our cards, and I was only used to having me, myself and I as an opponent at any table that wasn’t a city street.

Composure was my best bet even as my feet wanted to play cement block with the floor, so I forced myself to follow.

The night air temporarily rolled out the welcome mat with its sobering edge of cool, but it didn’t last, the effect waning when I got an eyeful of SUV.

I told myself it would work out despite the organized crime vibe that was rolling so hard.

I told myself I wasn’t the over-sexualized female in the horror flick walking into the decrepit barn full of macabre death traps.

I told myself it was not my time and that I wasn’t going out like this.

But as I stepped up into the awaiting ride, certainty was off the menu and a watery grave was the Blue Plate Special.-

Assail

Not a word was spoken as we traveled. I held back the victorious smirk that threatened to push my cheeks up, mine cousins playing their roles perfectly as we headed down to the docks. There was a corner in plain view I used for some of my dealings. It appeared inconspicuous upon arrival, tame, even. But the few lights dotting the area played tricks on the eyes, and it wasn’t until you were mere meters from the spot that you realized just how dark and shadowed it was. Even vampires were caught unaware. It was a short jaunt from the club to my waterfront view, and as we pulled up, I could feel the jitters working through my companion. He played it perfectly calm, which impressed me more than I cared to admit. Normally by now my guests would be shaky, babbling messes. I had heard every form of begging, been offered any and everything as payment, even kin had been presented for barter.

As Ehric and Evale climbed out and took post next to our doors, I peered over at my passanger.

“What name am I presenting you as? I do prefer to keep things formal. We are gentlemales, after all.”

I pressed my jacket into place as my question lingered in the air, the vial of blow burning hot against my chest. I craved a hit. But it would have to wait.

Jagger

-Suspicions were plugged into an amp when we pulled up to meet the “boss” after an uncomfortably quiet albeit short ride. Comfort zone was a no show allowing heat to lick under my arms. The perspiration didn’t reach my brows which was only a slight victory, because my pulse would not be lost on my escorts.  It was also unpalatable irony that I’d ended up in the exact scenario I’d been aiming to avoid. I internally floated the question on whether the boss was named Titan, considering there was nothing but water for an office at our destination.

My composure broke when I snorted a laugh at the term “gentlemales” despite the fine threads that clothed the guy next to me. Sure, I’d encountered males of worth, but overall the scales had been tipped in a direction towards the dirt, the grit and the greed of the male population. Image did not make the man. Dear old dad had stripped all illusion of such from me as soon as I could comprehend and reinforced the notion at every damned opportunity.  I’d be more likely to be convinced that unicorns existed and were responsible for shitting rainbows all over the sky while playing in the rain clouds.

I momentarily considered my naivety walking into this situation. I was unarmed, out manned and completely green when it came to this kind of dealing. Still, there was an edge of excitement that buzzed under the surface, maybe the detour from monotony would give me a new lease on life.

Nah.-

Jagger.  -I left out anything else. The name that branded me. The one I wished to escape, the one I could not. There was no use in that disclosure, especially if I was about to swallow lead.-

Assail

Jagger. Just, Jagger. No surname. No father’s heritage to dig into. Nothing I could use. I scowled, unhappy with his response. Offended at his snort. Was his accent of preference that of a cock-grabbing, long-legged swaggering, baggy low-belted human who thought himself some sort of gangster? They had no idea what a real mobsters did. Humans were feeble imitators. And this male… Did vampire males no longer announce their family when they introduced themselves? Were manners so hard to come by now? I knew I was a bit old fashioned, but even I had the self-respect to provide my full name when someone asked it. Assail, son of Assail. My name carried quite a legacy, I was as Old Country, as old world, as old money as they came in the vampire world. Mine blood could compete with the Blind King’s when it came to purity. He was the only pureblood left. I guessed mine at about 98% unblended. Enough games. I was itching for a hit, my tolerance for bullshitting was low, and I had two males waiting outside the car that I had promised a feed-and-fuck session at Iron Mask this eve. My arm shot out, grabbing the male by the back of the neck. I slammed his head into the window, hard enough to hear it crack. Or perhaps that was his hard skull. I kept my grip tight, fingers digging into the skin of his neck.

“Formalities are for the patient. Of which I am not at the moment. You, Jagger, son-of-whomever, owe me a dealer. And his earnings. The drugs I can replace, but the cash is something I cannot import into Caldwell.”

Jagger

-It was enlightening how tastes of death could in turn make you feel alive. Clearly my introduction had sat on this male’s last nerve. The dig of his fingertips into my neck threatened the integrity of my spine, and when my face met unyielding glass, the split of my skin above my eye intensified as the knock to the skull radiated a throbbing ache so powerful it numbed my lips. The blood gushed out, blurring my vision in one eye, casting a red filter over my sight. I licked across my bottom lip, tasting my mortality before a genuine smile presented and I met his gaze.

Maybe this wouldn’t be a bad way to go out after all. Of course, Mr. Must-Be-The-Boss wouldn’t allow me the departure without his due.-

Son of Rhuin if you need more reason to detest me. And might I ask your lineage since it is such an important talking point to you?

-I purposely ignored acknowledgement of what I owed him. I wasn’t done with his ire; I wanted to explore it, sick, twisted and masochistic as that made me. Casting my gaze downward in tribute to dear old dad. He’d been the one to invite this punishment. His actions were the ones I could never live down. His legacy was my death wish.-

Assail

Son of… Rhuin. I couldnae remember if I knew that name or if I’d just heard so many in my long lifetime that they all sounded familiar the now. And the way he spat out his father’s lineage had me wondering what sort of dissonance had driven it’s sharp wedge in between them. The only thing worse than politics and religion was family. Aye, Jagger, son of Rhuin hung his head and I could see now that he didn’t just lack the proper manners in announcing himself. He chose specifically /not/ to tie his name to his father’s. That was quite interesting indeed. My grip on his nape tightened once again, forcing his head to lift in my direction so I could pierce those daddy-didn’t-love-me eyes with my own dark stare.

“I shall gladly do you the honor, Jagger, son of Rhuin. I am Assail, son of Assail. And in case your now-bruised head hasn’t figured it out yet, I /am/ the boss. Furthermore, in case those ears of yours aren’t working quite right either the now, I said: You owe me a dealer and his earnings. You took one of mine down the other night and made off with his cash. Now the question is, how do we fix this situation? I’m thinking perhaps if you are desperate enough for money to kill a dealer, then mayhaps you could not only pay back what you stole, but earn a little extra for yourself by playing my little errand boy.”

Jagger

-Errand boy. The fuck? I’d sooner meet my end. That little delivery of expectation left my mind ringing as much as the knock to my face. I let the fuzzy thoughts come back into focus before attempting my response, and now this male was going to listen to me. It didn’t matter if he had his hand wrapped precariously around my neck. If it was due to be snapped, so be it, still wouldn’t get him what he wanted out of me.

There was the briefest moment of envy that flashed between heartbeats when the male so proudly stated his predecessor and namesake. Clearly he was not lineage-challenged like myself. I would use this to buff and shine his ego a bit. There was but one angle for me to take.-

Assail, son of Assail. My mistake in taking you for anything other than the man in charge. My ignorance precedes me. Apologies. I was not so well graced as you were with your sire.

-My flat tone was not meant in a manner of disrespect but to tamp down on the seething that that happened when I saw his aim from a fuller vantage.-

Good? Good. Now, hear this. I will not be in bed in with the enemy, though they seem to be your current bedmates of choice figuratively speaking, natch. Brotherhood know about this? -I let the question hang for a moment, this was my only leverage in the negotiation, and my sticking point.-

Guessing not. -Raising a hand before any protests or defenses can be raised.-

It’s not my intent to make any trouble for you with the Brotherhood. Not my business.  I’ll return what I pulled off that lesser along with whatever sum of cash you demand. Errand boy is on you.

Fair, no?

Assail

This male had balls the size of my Tahoe, and it displeased me that even with my long fingers wrapped around his neck, he still saw fit to think he could run this negotiation. As if I was about to negotiate. My other hand grabbed the door handle, popping it open.

“Remove him from my vehicle,” I spoke softly to Ehric. Jagger’s door immediately opened, Evale grabbing him by his jacket and pulling his body outside. A second later I was out my side, Ehric and myself rounding the back as Evale held my guest against the vehicle. Once we got close Ehric grabbed him as well. There was no chance of escape. I sneered, fangs out, leaning in close enough to the male that each pore on his nose was visible to mine eyes. The flecks of color in his eyes were burned into my memory as I spoke.

“If you think to threaten me with the Brotherhood, you should know… I operate outside their rules. I bend to no one. I serve mine own needs, and no one else’s, not even the Blind King himself. That being said, if you wish to hang a threat of exposure over my head, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to simply remove your tongue. No words, no tattling.”

I drew my finger across the wrist of his arm as Ehric held him in place.

“Fingers might have to go as well, can’t have any notes left in the First Advisor to the King’s mailbox.”

I let those ideas sink in for a moment, stepping back and pulling out a cigar. I needed something to calm me, something to focus my senses on since I couldn’t take a hit at the moment. A spark, a flame in the dark of the night, and I was in business, puffing a few times as thoughts moved about inside mine head. Finally I turned and focused on the male again.

“Ten thousand. That is what you owe me. And one favor, one you vow to complete the now, but shall be called due at a later date.”

I nodded at Evale, who retrieved the male’s cell phone from his pocket. Mine cousin called my cell phone with it, the sliver in mine pocket vibrating twice before he ended the call.

“Now I have your number, Jagger, son of Rhuin,” I pulled the cigar from my mouth and pointed at him with it. “Ten thousand. One favor. You’ll only have one errand to run in the end.”

I leaned in close, our noses bumping together as I mocked his earlier sentiment.

“Fair?”

Jagger

-Reflexes had my hand going to my neck at the moment I was pinned like the tail on the donkey to the body of the SUV. This invited my first rise of panic, not for the manhandling but instead for the lack of my mother’s cross, enhanced by the accompanying throb at my throat left behind by the insistent rush of blood back to the scene of the former grip of my captor.

I somehow managed not to lose my shit over my most sentimental possession, reigning it in as  focus shifted to the male in front of me, his patience seemingly dusted. There was no missing the slick line of his bared fangs or the hit of his breath on my face. He no doubt hadn’t missed my thick swallow within the intimate range he chose.

I otherwise didn’t flinch. Not at the idea of losing my tongue. Not when he traced an invisible guide on my wrist to threaten its severing. The chill that climbed my spine was involuntary and somehow triggered by the proximity of a warm body.

Strange.

I met his bravado with an upturn of my lips, then observed with a keen eye as he stepped back, noting a small tremor in his hand as he raised a cigar to his, plumes of smoke circling his head as if choreographed in their perfect rings. Demands were laid out in a tone that held no give, edged with a deadly undercurrent. Helpless to stop the retrieval of my phone and the silent orders carried about by the mute Ehric and Evale, I let them shake me down without protest, again unflinching when met with Assail’s mocking final word and kiss of our noses that could only be classified as posturing. I shrugged in the hold of the henchmen as much as my restricted position allowed.-

As I indicated before rage affected your hearing, I’ve no interest in reporting you to the Brotherhood.

You will have your favor and the sum, Assail son of Assail.

-There was no point in making counter demands. As soon as I was free from his bulldogs’ sweaty grips, I’d be master of my own ceremonies again. I’d every intention of carrying out the favor and paying my penance, so long as the male did not put me in league with the enemy. I could not allow that, but my new “friend” needn’t know it.-

Assail

I sensed his agreement to my terms wasn’t the victory he sought this eve, and although it didn’t bring me as much pleasure as I’d hoped, it did put a win in my column. I’d get my cash back, and a favor of my choosing some time in the future. Which would take careful choosing, as this male, this… Jagger, son of Rhuin, I sensed was something other than the usual young males I ran into in my line of business. They were usually half-cocked with their swagger hanging out. Jagger, while stubborn and ballsy, wasnae as foolish as the typical bullheaded male. I could tell he was perceptive, and while he had made a mistake this eve in assuming I was the errand boy, he got wise to what was really going on the instant we stepped out of the Iron Mask. A male like him could mayhaps be useful one day.

Look at you, Assail. Recruiting like the Brotherhood. I had a worthy informant, the lovely Evayhne. And now I was scouting a male whose origins I must needs research further. Rhuin. I would find his lineage. I glanced at the twins, nodding once as I puffed on my cigar.

“Let him go the now.”  They did so immediately, but stood close by in case Jagger felt the need to retaliate now that his arms and legs were of his own use again. “I will be in touch, Jagger. Give you instructions on where to bring the cash. I assume a fortnight will be enough time. If it’s not, you can bring me what you have and we’ll discuss how to handle the balance.”

With that, I turned away, stepping down towards the docks, under the cloak of night away from the low lights of the Tahoe’s interior. The twins would ensure Jagger’s departure. I had other things to ponder the now.

Jagger

-Although the night had ended up with a few rough edges and a small sacrifice of blood, the outcome wasn’t so far off the mark of what I’d hoped, save for one thing.

There was no weight on my shoulders for the tithe Assail had demanded for my inadvertent meddling in his business. He would eventually be pleased to find how true I intended to be with my word.

But the night had not been without its loss.

My heart sunk like an anchor from my chest to the floor of my guts at the notice of the loss of my most priceless possession.  For surely as it was missing from around my neck, the gravity of my mother’s absent cross bore down like an elephant having a sit in on my pectorals.

It was hard to draw air.

With my symbolic and physical tie to her gone, the confirmation had been penned in permanent ink; my time was coming.  There was nothing left for Jagger son of Rhuin in this life.

With that revelation in mind and no further word, I dematerialized into the night.-