8Here is Chapter three, the the final chapter dedicated to our favorite jailbirds! Mr. Crepsley is one of my favorite characters from Cirque du Freak (along with Darren and Vancha. What can I say, I love the the hunters!), so I give you permission to submerge me in acid if I OOC him!
(Ps. Instead of him injuring his ankle in the fall like the regular series, I took the the idea from the manga where he gets shot instead.)
Chapter Three
"Cool as a Cucumber"
Bloody Humans, I thought as they drug me to the hospital area of their infernal prison. The shot I had taken to my leg was not fatal, but it would hinder my efforts in stopping that damn Vampaneze Lord. I was not worried about my escape. I had learned how to sneak out of handcuffs such as these long before I was a vampire, back when I first stayed with the Cirque. Dealing with the policemen was another matter entirely. I had decided that silence was the best way to handle my predicament, and I prayed to the gods that Darren did the same.
They took me into a room that smelled to the high heavens like antiseptics. To my vampire senses it was pure torture. It felt as if they had poured straight bleach into my nostrils. The policeman, who had been holding a gun to my back, led me to what looked like a combination of a bed and a chair. I had been hopping on my uninjured leg since I left the apartment, but now I was able to relax it. A nurse cut away my pant leg, and gasped when he saw the extent of my injury. I snorted. The wound was merely a scratch for a vampire.
"Macey, get me a tourniquet so we can get this bleeding stopped!" said the middle aged nurse. "Sir, will you be alright while I fetch the doctor?"
I just glared at the man. Of course I would be fine. I would be even better if they had not taken me to this wretched prison in the first place. If they had cared so much about the state of my health, why make me walk up a flight of stairs while wearing shortened leg and hand cuffs? The cur blanched at the heat in my gaze and walked out of the room.
Now that I was alone I could study my surroundings. The room was small, blindingly white, windowless, and had one concrete wall. I assumed that the concrete wall was part of the outer perimeter of the building, while the two plaster covered walls (on each side of me) separated my room from those that were adjacent to mine. The third wall obviously led to the hallway, and would be the fastest route of escape. I did not know whether the door was locked or not (the imbeciles probably thought I was too injured to escape), but if luck was with me, it would not be.
Speaking of injuries, it was time to tend to mine. I examined the wound. It was a clean shot. The bullet went straight through the muscle, sparing the bone. Good. Flesh wounds I could deal with. A broken bone would take days to heal, especially a bone as large as the one in my calf. I rubbed spit into the wound, hoping to stanch the bleeding so that the doctor would not have to use a tourniquet.
After I finished administrating my saliva to my wound, a short and plump man with polished shoes walked in. Following behind him was an armed officer. The last man who walked in had to be the doctor. He was wearing the typical white scrubs, face mask, and stethoscope. I looked back to the first man who entered the room. He seemed familiar. His official appearance and the briefcase he toted with him seemed to pull at my memory.
"Mr. Blaws, is this the man who claimed his name was Vur Horston?" said the gruff looking officer.
Ah! This man was the annoying school inspector that sent Darren to that accursed school. Memories of his visit reignited my annoyance at his interference. And here he was! Sticking his nose where it does not belong once again! When this madness with the Vampaneze Lord was finished, I would return and teach this man some manners.
"Oh yes" said the infuriating man. "I quite remember him. He had a very rude attitude when I met with him about sending young Darren to Mahler's. He also asked some very strange questions when I showed him Darren's admission papers."
"Do you have the forms with you at the moment?" replied the officer. "What does it have on Vur? Or Larten for that matter," he added as an afterthought.
"I sent the forms to the man who was at the front desk. He said he will make copies of the forms and return the originals to me. But, the information I had on him wasn't much. It has his birth certificate; easily forgeable, his work place; the local slaughterhouse, and your other basic information. Not much to go on, but it could be helpful."
"Thank you sir," said the officer. "I'll be sure to pick up a copy. I believe they need you down in cell 208. The little murderer is waiting there for you."
"It is no problem. I must hurry on now, places to go, things to do," said the school inspector.
"I understand."
And with a look of disgust and a lift of the nose, the little man left the room. The doctor and policeman then decided to turn their attention to me.
"Horston, this man is Dr. Wilhite. He is to see to your injuries. No funny business. I have permission to shoot to kill if you mess with any of us," said the officer, pointing at his gun and puffing out his chest like a young rooster given control of the henhouse.
I simply rolled my eyes. I was not idiot enough to harm someone who would actually be helping my escape. The administrations from the doctor and my own saliva would have the wound healed by sundown, given I did not have to use it. The doctor approached my bed and cut away the remaining pant pieces on my injured leg and examined it with a professional eye. I quietly thanked the gods that the nurse never returned with the tourniquet. He reached for a bottle of some sort of cleansing fluid. I did not know what it was, because I still had not taken the time to become literate. But, I knew that whatever it was, would sting.
Sure enough, when the cloth that held the medicine on it touched my leg, I had to bite back a groan of pain. The doctor and policeman probably would have enjoyed my pain, so I gave them no such satisfaction. The slight frown that appeared on the face of the doctor confirmed my suspicions. These men believed I was some sort of monster and should be put out of my misery. I had to agree with them somewhat. My life was full of darkness, and I believed there was no hope for my soul. It was too damaged to be repaired, no matter the extent of my good deeds.
The doctor proceeded to stitch my leg back together, a gruesome task. No matter how neat his stitch work was, my leg would end up having a scar to compete with the one on my face. Many minutes passed before the doctor finished closing the wound on my leg. After that he examined some minor cuts that I had received fighting in the tunnels earlier. When he saw none that required stitching, he told the doctor that I was clear to go.
"Alright Horston," said the unnamed officer. "Let's take this freak show into your nice, new cell."
He prodded me to my feet with the rifle gun he had been holding.
"If you try to run, I won't hesitate to fire. You're treading thin ice already, especially with your little friend kidnapping our chief."
"Hmph" came out of my mouth as a reply.
Speaking of Vancha, I wondered how the red-skinned prince was faring. If my leg did not heal before sundown or if my escape was delayed, he would have to lead the fight himself. Darren and Harkat were both decent fighters, but neither were as experience as many of the vampaneze in the tunnels.
The officer led me into a simple cell, about the size of my hospital room, but with all concrete walls. In this room the ceiling seemed to be the best escape route. I examined the rest of the room. A small video camera resided in one corner of the room. I snorted at the useless device and looked to the center of the room.
A table dominated the center of the room. It seemed that this would be the place where I would be interrogated. There were three policemen waiting in the room. One stood by the door with a rifle, one at the far side of the table, next to an empty chair, and one across the table from the empty chair. I presumed the empty chair was for me. I walked over to the chair, with a scowl, and glared at the policeman across from me. The gruff man who had led me here walked out of the room, closing the door with a resounding click.
"You must be Larten Crepsley" said the officer, returning my glare. "My name is Greg Sanders, and the officer next to you is Matt Downy. We are the holders of your freedom, your food supply, and your comforts. Answer our questions and we'll make your life more comfortable. Not too comfortable though. No nasty murderers deserve comfort."
"Now Greg, let's not use threats when they aren't needed. Crepsley- or Horston- seems pretty intelligent."
Hmph. I may not watch much television, but even I knew the good cop, bad cop stereotype. Matt was here to persuade me into confessing and Greg was here to make Matt look better. Even if I was planning to speak, I was not fool enough to fall for such tactics.
"So, for starters, what is your real name?" inquired Matt. "It's confusing for us to not know what to call you."
I stayed silent.
"I think murdering ginger would be a good name," said Greg, trying to goad me into talking.
I stayed silent.
"So, carrot head, how old are you?" said Greg, trying to insult me again.
I stayed silent.
"Where do you come from?" asked Matt.
I stayed silent.
Questioning continued like this for hours. Question after question was asked, none of which were answered. Suddenly, an interruption came in the form of shouting. The halls filled with officers, yelling orders at each other. I stiffened when I head what the commotion was about. Steve Leonard had escaped the hospital wing of the prison. If I had known I was so close to that treacherous, evil bastard I would have made an end of him. As it was, I was infuriated at myself for sparing the boy. I should have killed him years ago, in that theater. A lot of my problems would not exist if that irritating Steve Leopard did not exist.
One of my inquisitors left, leaving just Greg and the armed officer, who resumed questioning, this time adding questions about Leonard into the mix. I rolled my eyes and slipped back into my patient shell of boredom, filled with repetitive questions and the constant whir of the recording device on the table.
Hours later, the policemen decided to turn in for the night. They sent in not one, but three armed guards to watch over me that night. The most likely cause for the precautions they took was the myths that involved vampires being strongest at night. They rolled in a cot for me to sleep on. It was stiff and uncomfortable. I preferred a nice coffin over a bed any day, but I did not have much choice in the matter.
With three guards training their guns on me at all times, an escape attempt would be unwise. I wished luck to Vancha, and any of the others who may have escaped, luck. I took the time to sleep, unusual as it was, to prepare for the trying day that is called tomorrow.
…
I awoke with the rising of the sun, feeling its dangerous energy. I looked around the cell. Five officers now stood attentive, setting off alarms in my head. One of the others must have escaped to cause such high paranoia in these men. One of the officers noticed I was awake and decided to begin questioning.
"How did the Darren boy manage to dig through a wall?" said the officer.
Ah, my assistant had made his move. I wondered if he had made it in time to help Vancha, or if he had just escaped.
"Answer me Crepsley!" he said, turning his gun on me.
"Well he most likely used a shovel, but it is possible that he used a spoon, or even a fork," I replied, breaking my silence.
It was time to… what was the phrase? …Bust out of this joint. As the guard puffed up in anger, I stealthily used static to unlock my cuffs. My hands were free, but I had no way to undo my leg cuffs without alerting the policemen.
Then I decide to make my move. I jumped up from my cot, jerking my leg cuffs in hopes they would break. No good. They were still intact. No matter, I could defeat these baboons cuffed and blindfolded. The two closest to me were simple to take out. I simply breathed the knock out gas of the vampires into their faces and watched them crumble. The other three were too surprised by my sudden movements to act. The middle one blinked stupidly at his fallen comrades and my free hands, hands which proceeded to knock him out.
The other two had time to recover. One raised his gun while the other dove at me. The gunman fired, not realizing the intentions of the other officer. The shot hit the man in the stomach, splattering me with his blood. I did not even blink. The other officer dropped his gun, horrified at what he had done. I took mercy on him and simply knocked him out with my breath.
I had to escape quickly; the shot would bring other officers to my cell. I tried the door, which the idiots had not thought to lock. I ran out into the hallway which was, thankfully, clear. I had memorized the path from the stairs to the hospital, then from the hospital to my cell, a path which I was now retracing. Hopefully my roundabout path was clear and confused any officers attempting to catch me. I reached the stairs with no problem and raced down to the first floor. There, blocking the entrance, were several policemen. I ran towards them and ignored their cries of warning. I jumped over the guards, who were too stunned to shoot, and broke through the thick glass door. I sustained several scratches (none life-threatening) and tried to work up to flitting speed. A few bullets came at me, (which I easily dodged) and then I began to flit. I had to find one of the others, if any were still left alive. I made the sign of death and continued running under the dreadful, unforgiving sun.
…
Congratulations to Cat attack 411! He figured out the the mystery from the last chapter. If Darren wasn't there, how would they have figured out the code? Vancha and Harkat are most likely illiterate, and Alice doesn't know the nickname Steve Leopard. So technically, the the fight never happened. Debbie would have been killed by R.V. (there you go anti-Debbie fans!) in place of Mr. Crepsley being killed by Steve, so Darren would have still been depressed. Instead of Debbie and Alice going to the the mountain, Mr. Crepsley and Alice would have gone. (I'm kinda pulling a Mr. Tiny here; Same events, but different people). The only plot thing that I cannot think of a way to fix, is how they figure out who the true Lord of the Vampaneze is. If you have an idea, please tell me. Also, I am thinking about doing a HP/CDF crossover. I have read a few, and most ooc Darren sooo bad. As for parings.. 15 year-olds and 28 year olds should never date.. ugh...
Here is a short little bonus to apologize for taking so long to post this! Enjoy!
I looked over to the strange man who kept claiming he was a vampire prince. If I hadn't been bound and gagged, I would have attacked my captor a long time ago. Who did this murderer think he was, prancing around like some great king, like he owned the cavern we were residing in? So what if he had a few big muscles to boast about? He had green hair for Pete's sake! Not to mention those filthy hides of his, which were poorly died a fading purple.
"Wait my dear" said the disgusting man. "I think I hear someone. Don't move because it may be a vampaneze."
There he goes talking about mysterious fairy tale creatures again. As he puffed out his chest and stalked off like some important solider, I rolled my eyes. He was so arrogant! I debated whether I should use this time to make noise and hopefully attract help. Sadly, I had no time to fulfill my plan, because the murderer soon returned, laughing and smacking a small silhouette on the back. When they got closer I realized it was one of the other killers! I instantly reddened with rage. When I escaped, boy these men were going to be in a world of pain..
"So they really believed you had to stitch your skin back together?" hooted the red man.
"Yeah... you should have... seen them... run!" said the small man, laughing as well.
I looked at the small, bald, grey… man? He was even uglier up close. He had several sharp teeth jutting out in a sick form of a smile. I could easily see this monster tearing up that poor school girl.
"We've still got a few hours till sundown," said March. "Should we help Darren and Larten escape?" He seemed to think about it for a second and said, "Nah. They're big boys, they can handle themselves. Let's warm up for the fight."
"Alright.. let me get my…" began Mulds, until a horrified expression, "I don't.. have my axe."
"Well lucky for you, those idiots left their fallen comrade's weapons."
He reached into a pile of weapons that I had watched him collect earlier and pulled out a medieval looking axe. He handed it to the grey-thing and took up a battle pose.
…
The hours I spent as a hostage went by surprisingly fast. I had watched the two murderous fiends duel for an hour or so, before they grew bored and decided to rest. It was now midnight, the scheduled time for them to leave to go to their oh-so-important fight, and apparently they were dragging me along with them. They had armed me with a gun and out of simple curiosity I hadn't shot them. I wanted to see these fabled purple skinned monsters they had been talking about.
We descended further into the cavern we were in until we came to an obstacle. It was a door, not unlike one to a bank vault, and had a code lock on it.
"Any ideas on how to get past this?" inquired the infuriating Vancha March.
"No… But it seems.. that we need.. a code.. to get inside.." said a weary looking Harkat Mulds.
"And you, Miss Alice?"
"It is a twelve letter code. Most likely one where you translate numbers into letters."
"Well this stinks. I can't read or write. What about you Mulds?"
"I haven't.. taken the time.. to learn. I might.. have been able.. to when I.. was alive.. but I can't now."
"Well it seems like we're stuck between a rock and a hard place," I said after a moment of silence.
Suddenly a man descended from the ceiling and, to my utter surprise, he was purple! He glared at Vancha, Harkat, and me.
"My lord says that he does not wish to fight only one hunter. He believes it would be a waste of the time and effort he put into his cavern. He says to return when your whole bloody team is intact," he said with a mad cackle. "Also, the dark skinned lady dies!"
With that, the rope he descended with was pulled up, removing the terrifying man from my sight. Vancha scowled and led the way out of the cavern, into the dark cool sky. It seemed I had been wrong about these men.
"March," I said softly. "Tell me what I can do to help end those purple beasts."
-Blood and Guts,
Rebarbative