absolute corruption

As his fangs retract and the vampire takes a step back, Jacques realizes what he’s done. Fifty-two years. That’s how long it’s been since he’s lost control like this, practically ripped someone’s throat out, drained them of their blood until their body fell limp in his arms. His tongue slides along his wet lips, cleaning the excess blood from them, and then wiping the blood that runs down his chin and covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No...” Jacques says quietly, as if that would will this situation into oblivion, erase the past and change this. Of course, it doesn’t.

He hadn’t meant to kill the man, especially not like this, but when he had come threatening to expose Jacques and his illegal business, well, Jacques just sort of snapped. He hadn’t acted on impulse like that in so long, he had trained himself to not be a murderer, he might be a monster but he wasn’t going to kill anymore.

Now that’s changed.

The man does the only thing he can think of, calls the man who’s fixed problems like this for him before, though it had never come to cleaning up and getting rid of a body. Jacques is aware that he does it though, aware that he’s the man’s only hope. He gives him a call, his voice even and normal, cryptic, disguised language that alerts him to there being an issue and telling him to come to his warehouse as soon as possible.

Jacques is standing there, blood all down the front of his shirt, when the other arrives. He turns his dark brown eyes up to the man, who, up until this point, he’s never seen face to face before.

Robert watches from across the street from behind a corner as the two strangers fight in the rain like gladiators. He grips his phone tightly inside the pocket of his knee-length raincoat anxiously from the shadows. His instinct tells him to call the police, but he knows it would be useless. In a city like Cyanide, the cops scoffed at that kind of thing. Be it sheer laziness or the simple fact they had worse to deal with, they’d never respond.

When the instigator hits the ground and fails to get back up, Robert knows he can’t leave the scene. He can sense the panic in the man who had been defending himself, even from across the street. He opens his umbrella before running across the street to make himself known.

“I saw him attack you!” Robert shouts out over the rain and a crack of lighting about fifteen meters from the man stood. He can only just make out what the man looks like. “You were only defending yourself!”

Still anxious, Robert feels the need to let the man know he’s no threat, so he jogs up to him where he stands in the rain to offer him shelter under his umbrella.

“It was self-defense,” he reassures him, his voice quieter now they’re just inches apart under the umbrella. Part of Robert wants to peer behind him to see the fate of the other man who lays motionless on the ground, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Is he dead?” He asks quietly as if it were a secret.

It’s true. Adonis was attacked first. He was only defending himself, but could his defense be argued as too much? Adonis knows how corrupt this town is, and he also knows how corrupt the justice system is. It seems like the innocent ones get locked away while the ones who were rife with the most guilt walked free among the streets, bringing about more corruption, chaos, and evil into this godforsaken town.

As Robert runs up to him, Adonis tenses up, prepared to defend himself once more if need be, but he feels the raindrops stop hitting him, and he realizes that the man is only trying to offer him a little shelter from the storm. The thunder booms and the lightning forks across the sky, illuminating the man’s face standing before him. If it weren’t this type of dire situation, Adonis might have found the man handsome. Possibly even flirted with him if he’d been given the chance.

Adonis swallows, turning back to look at the man’s body, the puddle of blood spreading wider and running down into the storm drains along with the rainwater. Adonis walks over, crouching down next to the prayer, and though he’s not a very religious man, he says a quick, silent prayer before he searches for a pulse on the man’s neck with his fingers. He waits for a few agonizing moments, and then he finally feels the telltale throb of a vein, evidence of a pulse.

“He--” Adonis says with a breath of relief, though he knows the man is bleeding fast and could die at any moment if they don’t act fast. “He’s alive.” Adonis turns his eyes back up to the stranger, raindrops blurring his vision as he raises his eyebrows. “What should we do? Call 911? Take him to the hospital?”

The other man definitely looked rather rich. With the suit, the gold chain that looked like it was made out of real gold, and the expensive and sleek looking car. But Cameron has ran into plenty of people who appeared to be more rich than what they actually were, and had gotten screwed over (figuratively and literally) in the process. 

The other man’s words practically caused Cameron to shiver with a mixture of greed, disgust, and jealousy. He assumed the other man was one of the monsters of the city considering the fact that it’s basically impossible for a human to be rich in this stupid town. Hell, the shitty apartments that was basically all the humans could live in were rather shitty for the outrageous rent prices they had to pay. “Just wanted to make sure.”

Cameron chuckled when the other asked him to stop talking and get in. “Bossy, bossy…I like that.” Cameron smirked as he turned to walk towards the passenger’s side door, allowing the other to see just how tight the pants clings to his ass before he gets inside the passenger. “That’ll be 600 dollars. I would ask for payment after the services, but I’ve been scammed more than once in the past.” Cameron said after closing the door. 

Looking through the windshield of the car, Jacques gets a good look at the other’s ass as he passes in front of the headlights. The way the tight pants clings to the curve of it makes the vampire lick his lips. He’s glad he decided to stop tonight. Something tells him he’s going to thoroughly enjoy his time with Cameron, even if it is a one-off thing. Jacques is okay with that. He hasn’t been on to keep long-term partners since his human life, he knows the ache and pain that can come along with that -- especially when you’re immortal.

Now it’s Jacques turns to chuckle, voice deep and rich like chocolate, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a money clip. He opens the leather bound clip, pulling out six, crisp one hundred dollar bills, and then passing them over to Cameron, eyes locked on the handsome male’s face, illuminated by the faint glow of the radio that plays a smooth, jazz tune. “I can’t say I blame you.” Jacques says, letting his gaze linger on Cameron for a moment more before he finally puts the car in drive and starts towards his home.

“So, do you tell your clients your name, or is that one mystery you’d like to keep?” Jacques questions as he drives, taking a right at a red light and passing someone who appears to be trying to rob a pharmacy. Jacques keeps driving.

Rain would never harm him, nor did it have him care much. He had to get from one place to another and his feet had to do. In Cyanide City you could witness a lot. You could witness things on a daily base, bad things. And really, Dimitri could be shocked to see a man beat or nearly beaten to death, but then, he wasn’t. The scent in his nose was heavy. It was the stench of the streets, dark alleys.. paired with the delicious scent of blood. 

A witness, Dmitri hardly found himself just being a witness, he often found himself in situations similar to this. “A situation, obviously.” His accent was heavy in the cold air, his eyes focused on the male in front of him. He was smirking some, nodding slowly. “Did you check if he’s still breathing?” He nodded to the body laying to Adonis’ feet. “I mean, you could just run, but maybe it’s not that much of a big deal. Maybe just a rat rotting in the streets after fighting the wrong guy.” He snorted some. “Even if he’s dead… there are ways to deal with it, running.. is not the best. There are eyes everywhere.. seeing things, recognizing faces.”

The tall vampire made his way to the body, leaning down to dip his finger to the blood, having a taste. “Go on… check his breathing and pulse.” He nodded to the body. “If he is still alive and running.. he may recognize you and gets the cops to take you down.. if he’s dead.. cops could find him and start asking questions. You left DNA on him.” He nodded to the males bruised knuckles.

There are eyes everywhere...seeing things, recognizing faces...

Adonis knows it’s the truth. Hell, he’s lived here his entire life, he’s seen situations like this escalate in to even worse situations. Adonis has lost people he loved and trusted in these streets, and that’s why he loves and trusts no one now. He’s alone in this city, it’s where he’s grown up but it’s definitely not his home. That’s why he’s finding it hard to trust this man too. What if he’s a cop? What if he’s just testing Adonis, to see how he’s going to react? What if he pulls out a concealed gun and fires a bullet right into Adonis’ chest right now?

Fuck, please don’t be dead.

Unsure brown eyes stare unwavering at the tall man’s face, trying to get a better read on him, but it’s hard with the dark and the rain to really be able to see much of anything. He takes a step backward, keeping his eyes on Dmitri as he approaches the body. He crouches down, finding a pulse point in the man’s neck with two fingers, and holding them there. With each second that passes that he doesn’t feel a beat, his heart sinks deeper and deeper into his stomach.

Adonis is a lot of things. But he isn’t a murderer.

Finally he feels the telltale throb of a vein, signifying a pulse. Albeit weak, but a pulse nonetheless. Adonis hasn’t killed him. Yet.

The boxer breathes a sigh of relief. “Aight, he, uh, he still alive. Barely. But he alive.” Adonis turns his eyes back up to Dmitri, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes and blurring his vision some. “What should I do? Call the cops? I mean, I was defending myself right? You saw it. Right?”

Cameron needed to make a lot of money, and a lot of money quick. Cameron was just about to start considering the possibilities of fucking mowing lawns or some stupid shit like that when a car slowed down in front of him. Cameron blinked for a moment before he realized that the window was rolling down, and the cheeky human grinned as he heard the other man’s greeting.

“Hey there,” Cameron purred back as he moved away from the lamp post and towards the other man. “Nice car.” Cameron complimented. He knew there was a lot that someone’s car could tell him…Especially when it comes to just how much someone could make. Although the power of loans also made that not to reliable, but Cameron made sure to keep his eyes peeled for anymore clues as to just what this other man’s pay range was about.

“Is that so?” Cameron asked, the corner of his lips turning up even more as he looked at the other man. “May pay isn’t cheap, you know?” The human said with a smile.

There is a lot that hints to the amount of wealth that Jacques possesses. He spent his human life as a slave on a plantation right outside of New Orleans. When he was turned, he was finally able to gain control over his life, to create his own freedom. He also made sure that he would be able to enjoy the finer things in life, things that he never would’ve been granted permission to have when he was still a human. That’s one thing that Jacques views as a positive that’s come along with his being a vampire. There are plenty of other negatives though. Still, Jacques has mostly gotten past that self-loathing stage of all of this. His money speaks for itself though. He’s driving a sleek, black Rolls Royce, a gold chain hangs around his neck, and he’s donning a perfectly tailored expensive suit.

“Thank you.” Jacques says in reply to the compliment on his car, one of his most prized possessions, he turns his eyes back out of the window and at the other’s handsome face, the dim light glowing off of his skin. Jacques shrugs his shoulders, looking out of the windshield for a moment and chuckling softly. “I needn’t worry about how expensive you are.”

“Besides,” Jacques says, his voice dripping in husky lust, eyes turning back to look at Cameron, “I only have a taste for the finer things in life. Now why don’t you stop talking and get in?”

It’s late. It’s cold. It’s raining.

Adonis Thorne leaves the gym, being sure to lock the door to the gym, and then — because of a recent increase in break-ins, though the gym is rundown and there’s certainly nothing worth stealing inside — he takes the chain and loops it back around the door handle and the heavy metal bar next to the door. He twists the key into the padlock and tugs on it to be sure it’s secure, and then he slips the key into his pocket and makes his way down the street towards his shitty ass apartment.

It’s a walk that he makes every day, every night at this time, though the weather doesn’t make it pleasant. Then again, there’s never been anything pleasant about Cyanide City. Usually, he can make it without any issues, but tonight, well, tonight is different.

He doesn’t see the man coming, but as soon as a fist is colliding with his jaw and white hot pain is spreading through the right side of his face, Adonis is snapping into action. He drops his gym bag quickly, regrouping and then driving his own fist towards the attacker’s face — punching him hard in the nose, and then quickly upper-cutting his chin — sending him flailing back into an alley.

One, two, three more punches as white hot anger and adrenaline sears through Adonis’ veins. He’s seeing red, his knuckles already bruised with each punch to the man’s body, and then he shoves him hard one good time. The attacker falls backwards, his head making contact with the rusty wrought iron fire escape, and the crack of his head is louder than the crack of the thunder in the sky.

Lightning illuminates the scene, a pool of dark red blood spreading from the man’s head and mixing with the puddles of rainwater. The man doesn’t move. Adonis isn’t even sure he’s breathing. As he comes down from his high of fury, he starts to get scared.

Is he dead? Adonis is a lot of things but a murderer isn’t one of them. The longer the man lies there unmoving, the more fearful Adonis becomes, and the more his heart starts to sink into his stomach.

Adonis turns on his heel, getting ready to run to his apartment, leave the body behind on the wet ground. But as he turns, he stops on a dime, because standing at the open end of the alley is a shadowy figure. Adonis can only pray it’s not the cops.

MICHAEL B. JORDAN, HUMAN, AMATEUR BOXER & PERSONAL TRAINER. | i think i spotted ADONIS THORNE ( CIS MALE + HE/HIM/HIS + HOMOSEXUAL ) out on the streets last night. isn’t that the THIRTY TWO YEAR OLD who’s been around cyanide city for THIRTY-TWO YEARS ? from what i see they seem to be BRAVE and RESOURCEFUL but they can also be very SHORT-TEMPERED and IMPULSIVE. when i see them i think of BOXING GLOVES, BLOODY BANDAGES, & OLD PHOTOGRAPHS.