Memoirs of a RAFian

[Cloak]

Yep. Perhaps not if I can keep the main focus of the story interesting . . . hmmm . . .

New chapter.

CHAPTER THREE:
News on the Wing

Shanker was away from the forum. He was a vampire, and vampires had to feed. Evn the good ones. He couldn't stomach the BloodLites anymore. He wanted something a little bit more fresh . . . he didn't know how Gaz could stomach that stuff day in, day out. He needed to taste the free-flowing liquid of life . . . the warm dampness of life . . . the --

No. No! He mustn't allow himself to give into that baser instinct. He was a RAFian. He couldn't go around attacking people, tempting though it was. Though he did not voice it, he was jealous of Gaz, for being able to completely dominate her vampiric nature, something he still struggled with from time to time. He was was the one who sired her, and yet, she had done something that he could not. Something that he hadn't managed to do yet. What was the secret?

He slurped the BloodLite he had brought with him, and put on a disgusted face. It was cold. It was the equivalent of having a very warm beer. He could not understand how Gaz could drink this stuff without flinching. Without stretching.

"Shanker?" came a quavery voice.

"Aidan?" Shanker replied, recognizing the voice. It was the vampire who sired him, an eternity ago it seemed. Things between them were . . . complicated. "What's up?"

"Zoë. Jason. Martinique. Lexie."

"What about them?"

"They're dead, Shanker."

This alarmed Shanker. Those four were his "blood siblings", other sires of Aidan. This wasn't very good, as there wasn't that many vampires in the world as Hollywood would have you believe. They were, if anything, a super-minority.

"Vampire hunters?" Shanker guessed.

"That's what it appeared to be at first," Aidan said, his fretful worry obvious. "But then I heard word that there was a girl of indeterminate age asking about . . ."

"About?"

"About . . . Mother."

"Madre de Vampyra?"

"D'you know any other Mother? Any other queen of all vampires?" Aidan said, caustically.

Shanker looked as if he was going to answer, and answer with rueful sarcasm. But he stopped himself, and remained silent about that particular subject. "But she's dead. Why would this person be interested in a pile of forgotten ash? Especially a vampire hunter?"

Shanker said the last two words as an expletive, as Aidan wore look of mixed displeasure at disrespect to their dearly departed queen and distaste for the aforementioned queen. Aidan looked as if he chose his next words carefully. "I don't think was an ordinary vampire hunter."

"Then what? Then what was inquiring, Aidan."

"A Slayer."

What color existed in Shanker's face drained out very quickly. "A S-S-Slayer?"

"I believe so."

"But they . . . they're extinct!"

"One must've survived," Aidan said simply. He turned to leave, but paused only to say, "Watch yourself, and that sire of yours, Shanker. You know how dangerous Slayers can be."

"You don't need to remind me, Aidan." Shanker said, storming away from his sire. He glanced at his Mark briefly, which Aidan did not know about, and went batty to get to the forum faster.

[redtailedsaffa]

Sire?!

[Cloak]

I wasn't expecting such a strong reaction. Yes, Shanker's sire. Gaz. Shanker is who turned Gaz, if I'm not mistaken.

New chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR:
Unwise and Reckless

"Daphne," came a commanding, cantankerous sort of voice. "Where were you?"

"Like it matters," said the teen moodily.

"You bet your a--" the voice's owner, a crotchety man in a puke green cardigan and brown slack began angrily, before he forced himself to calm down. "Daphne, you can't blow off training. As the Slayer, you may have formidable fighting prowess naturally, but if you do not train they will atrophy."

"Whatever," Daphne said, affecting indifference rather skillfully.

Being the Slayer, which only one exists in the world at a time, also afforded her superhuman strength, superhuman agility, enhanced speed, superhuman resilience, superhuman regeneration, superhuman awareness, prophetic dreams, and characteristic loneliness. But she didn't care about that. She found it hard to care about anything but slaying vampires and demons and the like. She had no thoughts of a future beyond that. She subconsciously knew that this was a problem, which lead to her unhappiness for months.

"Daphne," the man said, his voice now full of consternstion instead of ire. "Daphne --"

"Go away," she snapped.

"Now, Daphne," he began, almost placatingly.

"No, Uncle Jarvis!" she snarled. "I don't want to train. I want to be left alone!"

She slammed the door, almost ripping it from its hinges. But the door slam could be heard from quite a distance away, but that was mostly due to the building's natual acoustics than the strength of the slam.

Jarvis sighed heavily, muttering, "Daphne . . ."

She wasn't always so volatile. She was very amiable and accommodating a scarce week ago. She was reasonably happy, even having been activated as the Slayer. She was the knly child of a couple of humble orthodontists. They were unaware of their daughter's activation as a Slayer, they did not discern any difference as it was very, very subtle.

Jarvis found himself remembering his niece's birth, and the joy his little brother and his wife had, never knowing that she would become the Slayer. Even as a Watcher -- a member of a secret organization, the Watchers' Council, which seeks to prepare the Slayer to fight demonic forces, not to be confused with that noninterventionist alien species -- he didn't expect the next Slayer to be his brother's only daughter. Much less that he would be assigned to her, which was actually flirting with dismissal from the Watchers' Council, because he wasn't supposed to be as attached to her as he was.

Jarvis, though he didn't say it aloud, disapproved how arrogant and egocentric the Council was -- but they had not succumbed to the regular cycle of coming into power, becoming rampently unpopular, subsequently impeached, then replaced nearly to the degree of the Realm Walker Council. Still he didn't approve of them seeing Slayers as mere tools instead of people and their ethically dubious methods. But he tended to tread carefully around them, especially cause he consciously left things out of the diary he was to keep, chronicling Daphne's training and victories.

He feared for her. He knew the Council woild try to put her through the Cruciamentum, a test where they suppress her abilities through a drug. It was supposively to test her intelligence and practical abilities. Jarvis knew better, he thought. He believed it to be actually a gladitorial blood sport. He would not be allowed to intervene . . . he knew he would defy that rule.

Anyway, shortly after activation, there was a car accident with Daphne and her parents in one car, and Nathan Futon*, a spoilt rich brat driving (and driving drunk) an overly-expensive and unnecessarily-ostentatious red sports car. All of three survived, and even the idiotic drunk teenager. Daphne was unmolested, due to her Slayer durability. But there was really no reason for her parents to still be alive. They were horribly maimed, wracked with constant pain. Unable to die . . .

To add insult to injury, Nathan tried to sue them for the crash, though it was him who ran the light. . . . Fortunately, not all judges are swayed by the "affluenza defense". Jarvis, being Daphne's legal guardian now, was reluctant to tell her. Especially cinsidering her parents had just passed away several days ago** . . .


*Yes, a blatant analogue for Ethan Couch, the prick.

** Yes, because Death started doing his job again.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Daphne Dangerous

Daphne was consumed with the urge, the thrill to hunt for vampires. And demons to a lesser extent. She didn't realize that her uncle was doing her best to help her hold onto her humanity, because if she continually gave into this bloodlust without a fight, eventually it would overtake her and make he naught but an animal. A powerful animal.

She was obsessed with Madre de Vampyra. She considered her the Big Bad of vampires, and she was right. Had Madre not been dead, and she was dead. Madre no longer possessed a Black Lantern ring, and she could not come back by any means on the books. But, even when told this by the vamps that she slayed, she refused to believe it. She was obstinate in this belief, and would not be swayed from it, no matter how wrong she was.

She had come to be restless every time she thought about it. It riled her up at the very thought, at the very moment she imagined taking down the queen of all vampires. She was not dead as far as Daphne was concerned, and this made her dangerous, not only to others but it made her a danger to herself.

One could make the argument that her parents final depature from this world had unhinged her, given her a psychosis, had made her reckless and careless, and made her have a deathwish. And all of the above could very well be true.

She was not only volatile, but irrational and overly wrathful, murderously so. She had snuck out of the house shortly hafter being snippy with Jarvis. She had waited for him to go to bed, then crept from the house. She need to quench her slaying thirst, which seemed to, in her, override the Slayer instinct to protect. She had donned her cloak again, and climbed down a tree as nimbly as a squirrel.

Although she didn't know that Jarvis was aware of this. But he felt as if he was powerless to stop her from doing what she wanted to. He was afraid that he may have to call the Council on his own niece. He didn't want to do it, but he may be.left with little choice. He feared his niece would lose her humanity . . .and he's tried to tell her as such, but she always cut him off before he could.

Anyway, she went out into the night, sesrching for her prey. She would have a kill this night. Her agitation wouldn't be sated if she didn't. But if one thing was good -- she would never harm an innocent. Her instinct was against that. But, thing was, not every human was an innocent. And, in this day and age, there were plenty that weren't innocent. Daphne was a loose cannon and she she was free and unrstrained, unfettered by clarity of mind and an alarming ambiguity towards true justice.

She dashed into a city, killing a vampire who betrayed a human confidence. She took an inordinate amount of pleasure in it, feeling regret only when she realized that she didn't interrogate him over Madre de Vampyra. She would not forget next time. . . .

[redtailedsaffa]

Creepy woman.

[Cloak]

Girl. She's sixteen. Though it's tough to pin her age by appearance alone.

New chapter.

CHAPTER SIX:
Desperate Pressing

"Gaz!" Shanker said sharply. "Gaz, you're not taking this seriously!"

"So what?" Gaz said, flippantly, as Laserbeak eyed Shanker intently. The Cybertronian bird was ready to attack Shanker if he made one false move toward Gaz. Perhaps that's why Gaz didn't lend Shanker's dire warnings the appropriate amount of attention it deserved. "Some dinosaur rock back has it out for vampires?"

"The Slayer is not a dinosaur rock band!" Shanker exclaimed. "She is a girl!"

Gaz snickered. "You're afraid of a little girl?"

"I didn't call her that!" Shanker said. He seemed to be getting hysterical. He took a moment to compose himself. "Gaz, you don't appear to appreciate the gravity of the situation."

"It can't be worse than anything we've fought before," Gaz said, dismissively. "We faced things like memory-snatchers, shadow-stealers, and the like. I even talked to Death himself just a week, week and half ago! And you want me to worry aout some prissy girl?"

"Slayers are about as prissy as Faerie or Sakki or Saffa," Shanker replied dryly.

"Eh, semantics." Gaz said, with a shrug.

"Gaz, this is serious." Shanker said, frustration in his voice. Gaz was not getting it. "Slayers are dangerous. Killing our kind is a game to them. Killing our people is fun for them!"

"So, basically, what you're saying is, once a generation, a Malice is born." Gaz summed up.

"Stop being so goddamn flippant!" Shanker roared, which caused Laserbeak to land between him and Gaz. Beaky then proceeded to peck viciously at his hand. "Ah! Petulant pest!"

"Do not speak about Beaky in that way," Gaz threatened.

"Then finally take the threat seriously!" Shanker countered.

"What threat?" Gaz countered hotly. "We are safe here. A girl -- I don't care how supposedly special she is -- penetrate all the defenses RAF has."

"You know those defenses are unreliable at best!" Shanker pointed out.

"They're still sufficient," Gaz said, confidently. "There's no need for a friggin' panic attack."

"You don't understand. You don't understand." Shanker said with palpable consternation.

"Why does this one girl got you so ruffled?" Gaz asked, almost pedantic.

"You weren't my only sire," Shanker said quickly, as if he wished to get the unpleasantness iver as soon as he could.

"What?"

"That's right," Shanker said. "You had a brother. A blood brother."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had my reasons."

"Where is he?"

"I said that you had a blood brother," Shanker clarified. "You cannot meet him, just as you cannot meet Mother."

"Madre de Vampyra is dead."

"And so is your blood brother," Shanker said. "He was as flippant as you are being right now. He was killed by the last Slayer."

"What happened to her?"

"She took on Mother. She was ill-prepared and undertrained." Shanker said. "But Slayers are not to be underestimated."

[guitarhero01234]

I'm going to break metalhead law and say that yes, Slayer is a crappy Dinosaur rock band. Nothing they released after 1984 is worth listening to, IMO. Also, don't think I didn't catch the reference to Animorphs 25

[Gaz]

Makes sense that I don't take teen vampire hunters seriously. Never did watch Buffy. lol

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER SEVEN:
Unintentional Eavesdropper

Ugh, Cloak thought, disgruntled, why couldn't have Gaz and Shanker have selected a more spot spot for their little chitchat?

He had heard everything. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but they were talking to plainly, to loudly for him not to notice, for him not to hear. Perhaps they thought the chilly February weather would blot out their voices. If they did, they were sorely mistaken as the air, while still frigid, was still. And Cloak's feline hearing was very acute.

He had come out here every now and again to clear his mind, and basically "clear his chakras" if that guru in that one realm was right about the term. Identify the fear, the shame, the guilt, the grief, the self-told lies, the pessimistic illusions he felt over the past year. He had done this periodically over the last month, feeling like it would help him better control his abilities, and keep them in check. It did seem to be working, as it seemed to give him some piece of mind, but it wasn't perfect, as life, no matter the realm, tended to be messy.

And this conversation of Gaz and Shanker's was incontrovertible proof of that little fact.

Cloak had to admit that he knew of the Slayers, but by name only. His knowledge of them, especially how they functioned in this Realm, was woefully superficial and lacking. He wasn't aware that they were an actual, legitimate threat.

Well, not to him, personally, as he was not a vampire, not could he ever be one. Realm Walkers and vampirism are just incapable, due to the whole cloak requirement thing. If that wasn't a factor, well, he didn't know.

Anyway, he knew a bit more than Shanker let on to Gaz. He knew it would probably be a teenager, which he could understand Shanker conveniently forgetting to mention, and thus possessing the volatile emotions of a teenager. Unless this Slayer person was like him, and suppressed their emotions, as he was doing even now.

But, still, as much alike as humans could be to Realm Walkers (excluding the obvious physiological differences, of course), Cloak didn't know them perfectly. Some human behavior still baffled him, though he was usually too proud to admit this -- he had inherited this from his mother's side of the family.

Cloak did not know if the Slayer would ever come here though. Because whether or not she believes it to be true, Madre de Vampyra is dead. Proven when she came back and died again as a Black Lantern.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
Choices

It was almost as if Daphne could smell vampires and whatever nest they tend to congregate at. She was back wearing the cloak with the ornate trim. She didn't want to be recognised so easily. She was determined to find one vamp who would not protect Madre de Vampyra. One who would lie and say that she was dead. She was under the impression that vampires were like bugs, and needed a queen to function. That they needed a queen to have any functionality, that they had some sort of hive mind that would shut down without a queen. Therefore, the queen, Madre de Vampyra, must still be alive.

Of course, she was wrong, and her reasoning was flawed. However, that tends to go hand and hand with her age. When teenagers, some people tend to believe that they are always right, no matter the evidence to the otherwise. There are unique cases and circumstances when this isn't true -- and just a sweeping stereotype -- but this wasn't one of them.

Daphne carried a wooden stake that appeared to be crafted from wood from a holly tree, and it was her favorite weapon, and, like most Slayers, did not use firearms. Not too surprising, given her usual manner of prey item.

***

Jarvis couldn't do this anymore.

He couldn't just wait up for Daphne to do her thing and come back home. She was too headstrong. She wasn't adequately trained. She wasn't thinking straight. When she was like this, she was a danger to humans as well as vampires and demons, a danger to the innocent as well as the malevolent, a danger to herself as much as anyone else.

She wasn't just the Slayer, and he wasn't just her Watcher. He was her uncle and she was his niece. They were the only blood relatives they had. He couldn't shut off his compassion, his familial love for her. He couldn't pretend to be aloof and indifferent any longer.

The Watchers' Council would not like his actions, but you know what? The Council be damned. He already lost his parents, his brother and his sister-in-law. He wasn't about to lose his niece. Not by a long shot, not while he still drew breath.

Daphne wasn't a tool, as the Council saw her. She was a person. A person with thoughts of her own, with feelings of her own. She was not some mindless, soulless automaton to be aimed and unleashed at the Council's merest whim! She was not obligated to follow their agenda.

He put on his coat and donned a hat akin to the one Jacksepticeye wears, and he opened the front door to the chilly February evening. He would find her and be there for her. He would take a more active roll. He wouldn't be her Watcher, he would be her uncle. It was about time someone stepped up, and he should have done it the moment he became her legal guardian.

He was aware that by doing this, by effectively abandoning his "post", he had basically labelled himself a rogue Watcher. His thought at this was bitter and dismissive.

So what.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER NINE:
Wrong Answers and Mayhem

"Whoa, there, girlie," said a broad, stout man who towered above the slight figure befor him. He foulded his bare, thick, overly muscular arms in front of him imperiously. He had a rather froggy face, with a wide flappy mouth, beady eyes and a hairless head. He wore questionably artistically-ripped jeans, a stained white shirt that for some reason was referred to as a wife-beater, and a jean jacket with ripped-off sleeves. "Gonna need to see some I.D."

He was the bouncer to the little known club called, "Fangs U", which apparently had a number of double entendres in its name, but the slight figure appeared not to care. Fangs U had a history for only servicing a highly selective clientele, which no one disclosed what said clientele was.

The slight figure in the black cloak with ornate calligraphy on the trim and a blood red underside spoke clearly, but devoid of any discernible emotion, "Move out of my way, and you may live for another night."

The bouncer, upon hearing this, burst into deep belly laughter. He wasn't afraid of anything, as he constantly reminded everyone. He was too used to using his size to intimidate others, in addition to his other abilities. "Nice try, girly. But no entry. Go to the end of the line."

"Allow me entry," the figure said, in what was obviously a threatening tone, "I will not repeat myself a third time."

"Go to the end of the line," the bouncer said, matching the threatening tone in the cloaked girl's voice. "Or just get lost, I don't care. But you are not going inside, girly."

"So be it," she said. "But I did give you fair warning."

***

No one inside heard the commotion or screams from outside. They did not know to be weary of the slight figure, did not know the danger she posed. The clientele of this club was obvious once inside. It was made to cater to vampires primarily, with the odd demon or two popping in occasionally.

The vampires were of all imaginable body types -- thick, thin, stout, tall, fat, skinny, and more. They were all talking cavorting freely and unrestrained. They were downing BloodLite and some were drunkenly singing sea shanties. Hiw a vampire got drunk was unknown but there was a fair few here that were.

This figure, this stranger sidled up to a vampire with gray hair cut short, and spoke with an effeminate tone. He wore a gray undershirt and blue scrubs --a clear indication that he was a certified nursing aide, and a careless one at that. What CNA comes down to a club in their scrubs? He wore his fangs extended almost lazily.

"I have a question for you," the stranger said.

"Shoot," he said.

"Not if I don't have to," this stranger quipped, "answer me this: where . . . is . . . Madre de Vampyra?"

"Where have you been, kid?" he said, with withering dismissal. "Mother's dead. She's been for about a year now."

"Stop protecting her," the stranger snapped.

"What? I'm not protecting no one," he said, brusquely.

"I asked nicely," the stranger insisted.

"Yeah? Well, go f--"

Then his eyes widened as he realized that he had been staked fatally. Daphne had disposed of the cloak and, before anyone could cry out "Slayer!",  she had gone to work on the patrons and staff of the club.

[guitarhero01234]

Well, that was impolite. She didn't even let him finish his sentence!

[Cloak]

She's a teenager.

New chapter.

CHAPTER TEN:
Passing the Buck

There was one vampire left in the club. The place was literally littered with mounds of ash. He was unable to escape, and he looked quite beat up. It would have been embarrassing if she was an ordinary teenager. But she was obviously not. She was the Slayer. The monster in the form of a teenager.

"I'll ask you again, vampire," Daphne said, dangerously.

"She's dead. She's been dead for about a year! Maybe a little longer!" Aidan cried out terrified. He didn't want to die. He didn't. "It's the truth, Slayer, I swear!"

"Wrong answer," she said, punctuated the sentence with a punch. Aiden was thankful that it didn't kill him. "Now STOP protecting her."

"I'm not!" Aidan protested. "I'm not!"

"Stop lying vampire, or I will end you!" Daphne snapped, sounding almost sadistic. She was head down a dark, dark path. "Now, tell the truth! WHERE IS SHE?!"

"She's -- she's dead. That the truth, Slayer! I swear on the life of my sire and grandsire!" Aidan said.

"Wrong answer," she said, punctuating it with another punch. "Don't lie to me again. Do not make me ask again -- where is she?!"

Aidan thought fast, and he lied, "She's in a forum. A forum over the way by --"

And aaidan gave her directions to RAF. He sold out Shanker and Gaz to save his own life.

"Thank you," the Slayer said. "Now, was thst so hard?"

Then she went ahead and staked him anyway.

***

Shanker felt a great deal of anxiety in the forum, and that anxiety manifested itself as agitated restlessless. He didn't want to die. He knew he could not stand up to the Slayer. He wasn't the strongest vampire (but he was by no means the weakest) and the Slayer had slayed stronger vampires than him.

"Oh, settle down," Gaz said, reproachfully.

"Don't you get it? The Slayer had staked an entire nigthclub!" Shanker said, having discovered this after the Slayer had left, because he was needing a drink. He had no idea thst Aiden had sold him out. Or was dead. "She is that dangerous. She is like a keg of nitroglycerin waiting to go off."

"We're safe here, Shanker," Gaz said, with a calmness and serenity that Shanker thought was obscene. "Stop worrying so much."

"How can you be so calm?! We're in danger!!" Shanker said, fretfully.

"This Slayer, whoever she may be, would not be able penetrate the forum's defenses, Shanker." Gaz said, sipping nonchalantly from her drink. "We're safe."

"Don't be so complacent!" Shanker warned. "No defense is impenetrable!"

"Well, then it's a good thing that RAF doesn't have just a singular defense." Gaz said, simply.

[Cloak]

New chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Misled and Trail Dead

And so it went, Daphne grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself after beating the vampire ash out of it. Then she stalked around to the door, and exited without bothering to shut the door. She had her directions to where she believed the Madre de Vampyra dwelt.

She found what to be a very overgrown path, but she discovered a well-worn path betwixt three trees, one with a ruby, sapphire and emerald each. It was very difficult to see, unless you either knew it was there or more tenacious than the moet tenacious being in the realm. Daphne, as evidenced by a club full of vamps, isn't the type to give up very easily.

The trail was well-hidden and appeared to be very daunting. But that had never stopped her before. She would find the Mother of all Vampires, the Queen of all Vampires. She would find her, defeat her, and then kill her. Then all this would be over. There would be no more need for Slayers, because vampires would be, she believed, extinct. The queen, she thought, was the lynch pin holding the whole thing together. If she slayed this First Vampire, this Alpha Vampire, the others woukd either be killed or cured.

It was, in truth, a naive and childish hope. But Daphne, despite her tough as nails exterior, was still just a kid. A confused, emotional teenager. However, unbeknowst her, she was going directly to someone who might be able to help her . . .

***

Her uncle was continuing his dogged pursuit of her. And he had to hand it to her. She was good at covering her tracks. He was finding difficulty finding a trace of her. He was relieved that she hadn't gone to a dive bar called the "Trip-Trap", or something like that -- it was hard to read the sign -- which was a knowing vamire gathering place, though not exclusive to vampires and other malignant sort of creatures.

Still he searched for Daphne, fearing that any moment now that . . . that he would come upon her prone, motionless body. Broken and bloodied. He forced himself not to tear up. He forced himself to be strong. There was no evidence of anything like that. She had been lucky thus far, he determined. He shouldn't have heen so lenient with on her training. She wasn't ready for something of the magnitude that she was after.

He knew she was after something big, but did not know precisely what. But he knew her well enough to know that she had the family's hallmark, a fatal flaw -- overconfidence mixed with being headstrong and high ambitions, a dangerous ****tail to have in any one person. Especially when that person is the Slayer.

He came upon the "Fang U" club completely by accident. And kne look was all thst he needed to see that his niece had, indeed, been here. Mounds of ash and dust covered the exterior, as if a sudden and inexplicable sandstorm came through, and decided to die here. Jarvis was wise and learned enough to recognize vampire ash. And there was a lot of this ash here -- too much for a single vampire, unless that vampire was the size of a godly colossus.

No, this was a killing field. And only a Slayer was able to kill vampires this efficiently. He looked inside the club, from the idly swinging open door. It was the same deal, but even more ash here. This was clearly a nest. And clearly Daphne wiped them all out.

If she wasn't careful she would lose her humanity . . . he had to hurry up and find her. But . . .

Where?

[guitarhero01234]

Really liking this so far. Has a bit of a subtle "he who fights monsters" sort of vibe.