(Author’s note – Under the cut, here lie vampires.)

The large hall was full of heavy duty drawers. Grey bricks were supported and reinforced with cast iron beams and bars. The drawers took up from the floor to the ceiling and ran the length of the room, tucked away all neat and safe. All except one. The man who stood by it was looking longingly inside at his latest acquisition.

It was a deep drawer with reinforced sides and a slide-shut glass top that protected the chemicals inside from contamination; not to mention the perfect way to exhibit the fine specimen inside. A body. Two puncture marks marred the smooth skin on the neck, but other than that… He was Japanese, twenty-five years old like all the other specimens. Aside from the bite mark, he was an altogether average naked cadaver.

“You still persist in this foolishness?” A female voice came from the rafters.

The admiring man glanced upwards with a soft smirk. “Art is never foolish, my sire. An appreciation for the natural beauty is what separates us from the animals.” His voice was soft, with a flowing cadence that spoke of vocal training. Still he stood admiring his handiwork as his sire dropped from the ceiling to join him, dressed in a charcoal pant suit with pale pink blouse. Her kitten heels made nary a sound as they touched the metal, descending with supernatural grace.

“Traveling the world sampling a male and female of each race? Bringing their bodies back here to be preserved? Why not simply take a photograph.” She snarled, holding a stern look on her offspring. The turning had been kind to him, his dark hair and pale skin giving him a certain appeal to the foolish fans of a number of sub-cultures, but she would admit his look of arrogance detracted greatly from it.

“I only do as the scientists would. I go for no extreme in archetype, I simply select a suitable and ‘average’,” he added the requisite air quotes with his carefully manicured fingers, “person to be added to my little menagerie of the human race.” He waved fondly to the cadaver as he slid the drawer back into the unit. “I keep a journal of each catch, remarking on their aroma, their taste, even the texture of skin and consistency of blood.” He professed, sliding a carefully scribed note into the front compartment of the drawer. “This is not just a collection of my mealtimes, it is an encyclopedia of cattle.”

“You play a dangerous game, Marcus.” She hissed, pulling her blond hair back into a tight ponytail, secured with a simple black scrunchy. “Pray your collection does not get you into trouble, because I may decline to assist you.”

He laughed as she turned and began walking off. “Oh, Yvon, my dear sire… your little declaration there only serves to make it more fun.” Tongue flicking across his lips, Marcus gave a giddy little shudder as he recalled just how tasty a morsel Kensuke had been.


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