Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > ... A Little More Kill Him
Patrick shifted awkwardly inside the vault. It had looked much bigger on the outside but the thickness of the walls and door had reduced the size of the interior dramatically. Hunched over, Patrick was relieved that his damaged ribs were starting to heal. He wanted to curse his own stupidity for going after Beckett without backup or even letting his friends and fellow hunters know where he was. Every attempt to contact Pete had been blocked by Beckett; it seemed to him that the act of blocking his thoughts was so second nature to the vampire leader that he didn't even need to think about it. Very probably it meant that no amount of distance or distractions would divert Beckett from preventing him contacting Pete. He could only hope he was wrong. Slamming his balled fist against the door, Patrick screamed his frustration, which only increased as his thoughts were interrupted by taunting laughter.
Don't imagine you'll ever leave that vault, Patrick.
The words sounded loudly in his head, so much so, that he could almost picture Beckett's gloating expression.
You will witness the downfall of all your friends. One will die, one will wish he had and the other will wish he could and then you, my dear, Patrick, will spend eternity at the bottom of the ocean, still trapped inside that tiny vault. You will starve and slowly go insane and the knowledge of all that brings a smile to my face every time I think about it.
“You thought you'd finished us last time, Beckett!” Patrick yelled defiantly. “You didn't then and you won't this time either!”
The silence that followed was possibly even more frustrating than the laughter he had already endured. It simply meant that Beckett didn't consider him a threat. Not him, not any of them. Normally, Patrick would be geared up to show him how wrong he was, but try as he might to resist the feeling, something told him that, this time, Beckett was very much in control.
*
Spencer leaned back against a tree, it's trunk old and wide enough to hide him, had he felt it necessary. It was only then that Pete realized that Spencer wasn't hiding. He had kept far enough away in order to avoid the attention of any human, but, Pete soon realised, had wanted his attention.
Eyeing Spencer with deep mistrust, Pete noticed that he had the look on his face of a man who could happily resort to blackmail but the young vampire was certain that there was nothing he could know that should worry him.
"What do you think you know?" Pete snapped scornfully.
"Are you sure you want to hear the words? You don't seem ready to me."
"Whatever it is you think you know, you're wrong!" Pete insisted, forcefully shoving Spencer backwards, only to watch him trip and fall to the floor.
Lying on the floor, Spencer used his elbows to raise himself up a little. Bending his knees for additional comfort, Spencer gave an arrogant laugh as he stared up at the furious vampire standing over him.
"If you say so, Wentz," he chuckled his obvious disbelief, much to Pete's annoyance and frustration.
"Get up!" Pete yelled, dragging the still weak Spencer to his feet.
It was a simple matter to drag him back to his feet. Although still strong enough to fight and kill a typical human, Spencer would have struggled to fight Andy or Joe and, despite feeding on Ryan and two humans, against Pete's greater strength, he was still almost defenseless.
"I've got a proposal for you," Spencer said hurriedly as Pete began to drag him towards the warehouse.
"And I've got a cage for you!" Pete snapped in return, almost delighting in the idea that someone other than himself would be securely locked up in Patrick's creation.
"Let me go and listen to me or I'll tell your hunter friends about your new found taste for human blood."
Pete stopped dead in his tracks, turning quickly his expression one of worry and concern.
"You don't really want them to find out, do you?" Spencer goaded.
"M… My what?" Pete tried to manage a harsh tone and a convincing mocking attitude, but all of his bravado was suddenly gone.
“Yes!” Spencer grinned as the pair stopped walking towards the warehouse and he shook free of Pete's grip. “You're taste for human blood. It's on you like a sickness!”
“I don't know what you're talking about!” Pete snapped. “No one's going to… They won't believe you… I…”
“You know they will, Wentz,” Spencer grinned. “You know they will. You'll end up in that cage you fear so much. I can sense it on you… heavy like a thunder-cloud. You're terrified.”
“What of?” Pete replied stiffly, still trying hard to deny his recently developed addiction to human blood.
“I can only sense two humans,” Spencer ignored the question. “Kill Patrick did you? Blame someone else? You drank his blood, Wentz, I can smell it on you!”
“Shut up!” Pete screamed in frustration. “I don't want human blood!”
Spencer grinned. “I believe you don't want it, but you can't stop thinking about it, can you?”
“Shut up!” Pete yelled again drawing up his fist and driving it at force into Spencer's lower abdomen,
Dropping like a stone to his knees, Spencer began to laugh between coughs.
“You've had human blood now and more than once,” he grinned, “there's no going back. You must know that by now.”
“They'll figure something out… again,” Pete sighed quietly. “This won't… I won't be controlled by this!” Pete insisted. “Or you!” he yelled, turning to land a quiet vicious kick in Spencer's abdomen. Watching him gasp and curl up, Pete finally forced a smile; he would not be controlled by Spencer. None of them would.
*
Beckett preened himself, delighting in the new wardrobe of clothes that Mayor Roberts had thoughtfully provided him with. Of all of the designs, styles and fabrics in the wide selection of clothes, Beckett had chosen a simple white shirt, silver cravat and a dark grey, classically lined suit with an Edwardian-style jacket that skimmed across his slender hips with an elegant fluidity. The silver-grey jacket lining almost shone in the dimly lit room that he knew, by dawn, would be redecorated, furnished and habitable. As he looked around the stark, bare room, his anger bubbled up once more. He thought about his beloved home, where he had lived since he was a boy, barring a short forty year break, when he had lived with his master until he had been killed by hunters. Now it was all gone: his home, his clothes, his car, his coven, but most of all, his status. And it was all Patrick's fault, Patrick and his hunter friends. They would all suffer. He smirked to himself, two of them, he felt certain, were already suffering, but now it was time to work on his plans. The Chief Judge was about to become breakfast - a small detail he had not divulged to the Mayor. Some things, he had decided, were better left unsaid.
Slipping on a pair of highly polished Italian leather shoes, Beckett reached down to tie two smart bows with the laces, before pulling on a close fitting dark grey leather glove, enjoying the feel of the soft leather, he gently stroked the back of his gloved hand before slipping on the other.
“Master William?” Brendon's voice disturbed his dressing ritual.
As he turned his head, he saw his second in the doorway, kneeling low on one leg with his head bowed. Smiling appreciatively, Beckett was secretly relieved that the serious depletion of his coven hadn't affected Brendon in the same way it had Michael. Brendon was a good second: loyal, ruthless and cruel.
“Brendon,” Beckett called with a wave of his hand to indicate that he should rise.
“William,” Brendon grinned as he rose.
“I was going to ask you if the mayor has gathered everyone, ready for our meeting, but I feel you have something to tell me,” Beckett cocked his head slightly to the right as he tried to figure out what had pleased Brendon so much.
“Yes, Master,” Brendon replied, clearly delighting in something.
“Well?” Beckett's smile widened; Brendon's enthusiasm was contagious.
“I don't know whether to tell you, or let you sense it yourself,” Brendon's wicked smile broadened as he hinted at something that Beckett would want to be aware of.
“Someone is here to attack us?” Beckett frowned causing Brendon's smile to wane momentarily.
“Oh, no, Master, this is something I'm sure you'll like.”
Brendon's broad smile returned as he watched Beckett widen his senses to take in the whole building. The sudden widening of Beckett's eyes and the corners of his mouth turning up once more were Brendon's signal to nod slowly.
“You found her?” Brendon asked slyly.
“I certainly have,” Beckett chuckled to himself. “She works here?”
“Yes,” Brendon was beside himself with joy, acting almost as if he had planned the whole thing. “I probed her mind,” Brendon began again. “Gently,” he added firmly, “she is totally unaware of me… all of us. She wants to keep her normal life,” he laughed. “She should have thought about that before getting involved with Trohman.”
Beckett closed his eyes briefly as he mulled the options in his mind.
“It looks as though my revenge on Joseph will come sooner than I imagined. Bring her to me, Brendon. And… don't break her. Well,” he laughed, “not much, she's a delicate little thing, you know.”
Brendon nodded enthusiastically and turned on his heels to head upstairs. Selecting two silk ties from the array of clothes hanging nearby, Beckett smirked to himself.
“It's all just become so much easier,” he laughed, pulling on the ties to test their strength. “Yes, these will do nicely. My meeting will just have to wait a few minutes”
Don't imagine you'll ever leave that vault, Patrick.
The words sounded loudly in his head, so much so, that he could almost picture Beckett's gloating expression.
You will witness the downfall of all your friends. One will die, one will wish he had and the other will wish he could and then you, my dear, Patrick, will spend eternity at the bottom of the ocean, still trapped inside that tiny vault. You will starve and slowly go insane and the knowledge of all that brings a smile to my face every time I think about it.
“You thought you'd finished us last time, Beckett!” Patrick yelled defiantly. “You didn't then and you won't this time either!”
The silence that followed was possibly even more frustrating than the laughter he had already endured. It simply meant that Beckett didn't consider him a threat. Not him, not any of them. Normally, Patrick would be geared up to show him how wrong he was, but try as he might to resist the feeling, something told him that, this time, Beckett was very much in control.
*
Spencer leaned back against a tree, it's trunk old and wide enough to hide him, had he felt it necessary. It was only then that Pete realized that Spencer wasn't hiding. He had kept far enough away in order to avoid the attention of any human, but, Pete soon realised, had wanted his attention.
Eyeing Spencer with deep mistrust, Pete noticed that he had the look on his face of a man who could happily resort to blackmail but the young vampire was certain that there was nothing he could know that should worry him.
"What do you think you know?" Pete snapped scornfully.
"Are you sure you want to hear the words? You don't seem ready to me."
"Whatever it is you think you know, you're wrong!" Pete insisted, forcefully shoving Spencer backwards, only to watch him trip and fall to the floor.
Lying on the floor, Spencer used his elbows to raise himself up a little. Bending his knees for additional comfort, Spencer gave an arrogant laugh as he stared up at the furious vampire standing over him.
"If you say so, Wentz," he chuckled his obvious disbelief, much to Pete's annoyance and frustration.
"Get up!" Pete yelled, dragging the still weak Spencer to his feet.
It was a simple matter to drag him back to his feet. Although still strong enough to fight and kill a typical human, Spencer would have struggled to fight Andy or Joe and, despite feeding on Ryan and two humans, against Pete's greater strength, he was still almost defenseless.
"I've got a proposal for you," Spencer said hurriedly as Pete began to drag him towards the warehouse.
"And I've got a cage for you!" Pete snapped in return, almost delighting in the idea that someone other than himself would be securely locked up in Patrick's creation.
"Let me go and listen to me or I'll tell your hunter friends about your new found taste for human blood."
Pete stopped dead in his tracks, turning quickly his expression one of worry and concern.
"You don't really want them to find out, do you?" Spencer goaded.
"M… My what?" Pete tried to manage a harsh tone and a convincing mocking attitude, but all of his bravado was suddenly gone.
“Yes!” Spencer grinned as the pair stopped walking towards the warehouse and he shook free of Pete's grip. “You're taste for human blood. It's on you like a sickness!”
“I don't know what you're talking about!” Pete snapped. “No one's going to… They won't believe you… I…”
“You know they will, Wentz,” Spencer grinned. “You know they will. You'll end up in that cage you fear so much. I can sense it on you… heavy like a thunder-cloud. You're terrified.”
“What of?” Pete replied stiffly, still trying hard to deny his recently developed addiction to human blood.
“I can only sense two humans,” Spencer ignored the question. “Kill Patrick did you? Blame someone else? You drank his blood, Wentz, I can smell it on you!”
“Shut up!” Pete screamed in frustration. “I don't want human blood!”
Spencer grinned. “I believe you don't want it, but you can't stop thinking about it, can you?”
“Shut up!” Pete yelled again drawing up his fist and driving it at force into Spencer's lower abdomen,
Dropping like a stone to his knees, Spencer began to laugh between coughs.
“You've had human blood now and more than once,” he grinned, “there's no going back. You must know that by now.”
“They'll figure something out… again,” Pete sighed quietly. “This won't… I won't be controlled by this!” Pete insisted. “Or you!” he yelled, turning to land a quiet vicious kick in Spencer's abdomen. Watching him gasp and curl up, Pete finally forced a smile; he would not be controlled by Spencer. None of them would.
*
Beckett preened himself, delighting in the new wardrobe of clothes that Mayor Roberts had thoughtfully provided him with. Of all of the designs, styles and fabrics in the wide selection of clothes, Beckett had chosen a simple white shirt, silver cravat and a dark grey, classically lined suit with an Edwardian-style jacket that skimmed across his slender hips with an elegant fluidity. The silver-grey jacket lining almost shone in the dimly lit room that he knew, by dawn, would be redecorated, furnished and habitable. As he looked around the stark, bare room, his anger bubbled up once more. He thought about his beloved home, where he had lived since he was a boy, barring a short forty year break, when he had lived with his master until he had been killed by hunters. Now it was all gone: his home, his clothes, his car, his coven, but most of all, his status. And it was all Patrick's fault, Patrick and his hunter friends. They would all suffer. He smirked to himself, two of them, he felt certain, were already suffering, but now it was time to work on his plans. The Chief Judge was about to become breakfast - a small detail he had not divulged to the Mayor. Some things, he had decided, were better left unsaid.
Slipping on a pair of highly polished Italian leather shoes, Beckett reached down to tie two smart bows with the laces, before pulling on a close fitting dark grey leather glove, enjoying the feel of the soft leather, he gently stroked the back of his gloved hand before slipping on the other.
“Master William?” Brendon's voice disturbed his dressing ritual.
As he turned his head, he saw his second in the doorway, kneeling low on one leg with his head bowed. Smiling appreciatively, Beckett was secretly relieved that the serious depletion of his coven hadn't affected Brendon in the same way it had Michael. Brendon was a good second: loyal, ruthless and cruel.
“Brendon,” Beckett called with a wave of his hand to indicate that he should rise.
“William,” Brendon grinned as he rose.
“I was going to ask you if the mayor has gathered everyone, ready for our meeting, but I feel you have something to tell me,” Beckett cocked his head slightly to the right as he tried to figure out what had pleased Brendon so much.
“Yes, Master,” Brendon replied, clearly delighting in something.
“Well?” Beckett's smile widened; Brendon's enthusiasm was contagious.
“I don't know whether to tell you, or let you sense it yourself,” Brendon's wicked smile broadened as he hinted at something that Beckett would want to be aware of.
“Someone is here to attack us?” Beckett frowned causing Brendon's smile to wane momentarily.
“Oh, no, Master, this is something I'm sure you'll like.”
Brendon's broad smile returned as he watched Beckett widen his senses to take in the whole building. The sudden widening of Beckett's eyes and the corners of his mouth turning up once more were Brendon's signal to nod slowly.
“You found her?” Brendon asked slyly.
“I certainly have,” Beckett chuckled to himself. “She works here?”
“Yes,” Brendon was beside himself with joy, acting almost as if he had planned the whole thing. “I probed her mind,” Brendon began again. “Gently,” he added firmly, “she is totally unaware of me… all of us. She wants to keep her normal life,” he laughed. “She should have thought about that before getting involved with Trohman.”
Beckett closed his eyes briefly as he mulled the options in his mind.
“It looks as though my revenge on Joseph will come sooner than I imagined. Bring her to me, Brendon. And… don't break her. Well,” he laughed, “not much, she's a delicate little thing, you know.”
Brendon nodded enthusiastically and turned on his heels to head upstairs. Selecting two silk ties from the array of clothes hanging nearby, Beckett smirked to himself.
“It's all just become so much easier,” he laughed, pulling on the ties to test their strength. “Yes, these will do nicely. My meeting will just have to wait a few minutes”
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