Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > ... A Little More Kill Him
How they were managing to cling on, he didn't know, but what Andy did know was that he couldn't see through the windshield to drive. Driving fast, he knew he couldn't swerve to shake them without running the risk of crashing, but he knew he had to do something and fast. The noise of them clambering all over the car and beating at the roof and sides was deafening.
“The wipers!” Joe yelled above the clamour.
“What?” Andy shouted back. “That won't get them off!”
Unwilling to waste time explaining why, Joe leaned over and turned the switch to spray the windshield from the washer bottle. Deafening screams filled the car as sizzling vampires rolled off the hood, bouncing on the asphalt as they tried to stop the burning that spread over their bodies. With the speed of the car allowing the water to fly further, beyond the windshield, a few more squirts from the bottle had showered the whole car with what Andy now realised was Holy Water and within moments, the attacking vampires were just specks in the rear-view mirror.
“How did… Did you do that?” Andy stammered, grateful to have put the attack behind them so quickly, but still shocked at how sudden it had been.
“Yeah,” Joe sighed with relief. “I filled the bottle with Holy Water after… the first rescue attempt when they had you in the mansion. We… were attacked in the car and I just thought…”
“You're a genius, Joe,” Andy grinned, elated to have escaped but also pleased that Joe was talking again. “You know that don't you?”
“Well, I… Andy, I'm sorry.”
“What about?” Andy smile quickly faded.
“I've been so wrapped up in my own problems that…”
“Joe, that's understandable,” Andy interrupted.
“Hear me out please, Andy,” Joe replied, firmly, but kindly. “I barely knew her…”
“But…”
“Andy, please!”
“Sorry. Go on, I'm listening.”
Joe nodded thoughtfully; he knew he hadn't considered what he wanted to say and that it was going to come out in a way that some people might describe as freeform or organic but he would simply describe it as garbled. He just hoped that he would make some sense and that Andy would understand.
“I barely knew her, but she meant so much more to me than I can say. I can't explain it, but I… think I loved her, Andy. I don't think I'll ever know for sure and I think for some reason that's really hurting me. I should be upset that she's gone, but all I can think about is that I'll never know if she was the one… you know? I know that doesn't make any sense… in fact it sounds almost clinical. What kind of a man am I that that's my biggest concern!”
Andy turned his head sharply as Joe's voice rose in pitch and volume as he became increasingly angry. Unwilling to stop the car again, Andy kept moving but offered his reply.
“Just the normal kind, Joe,” he said softly. “The kind that finds it too hard to deal with something so terrible that he focuses on something a little less painful then beats himself up over it.”
Joe turned to face Andy, who kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. He had, by now, realised that Joe was trying to cope, trying to deal with it but was fighting himself. Andy had to make him realise that how he was coping was a perfectly normal grieving stage - denial - refusing to think about it and diverting his thoughts. By staring ahead and talking chattily, he hoped to convince Joe that he wasn't just being sympathetic and hopefully, be believed.
“You're dealing with it, Joe. There's no particular way to be, or think, you just get through it the best you can. But we're here for you when you need us and well, when you don't too. You may feel on your own with this and I can't lie and say I know exactly what you're feeling, but I do know how it feels to lose someone. It messes with your head, Joe, it really does, but that's normal and so are you.”
“Thanks, Andy, you're the best,” Joe nodded. He still appeared tired, but he seemed much calmer.
“Let's go home, I still haven't heard anything from Pete.”
“You don't honestly expect him to think to contact you, do you?” Joe raised an eyebrow.
“Not really, but… well it'd be good to know if he's safe at least.”
*
Beckett drummed his fingers on the desk and looked up to the ceiling. He hadn't expected to wait so long and he was growing increasingly impatient. Finally, after what seemed an age, the door opened to reveal Brendon who, after a short respectful bow, stepped a few paces into the room.
“Who do we have?” Beckett asked with a stern expression fixed on his face.
“Master Saporta,” Brendon replied equally coolly.
“Alone?” Beckett asked with an eyebrow raised in surprise.
“His Second is with him, but I've told him to wait.”
“Well then, Brendon, show Master Saporta in. I suspect we have much to discuss.”
“Yes, Master William.”
A short pause followed before the door opened once more.
“Master William,” Brendon announced. “Master Saporta to see you.”
Beckett looked up as the tall dark vampire leader of the Midtown Coven strode confidently into the room. Beckett's expression, already superior moved towards smug conceit as he noticed the irritation on the newcomer's face.
“Good evening, Gabriel, please come in.”
“You've gone too far now, Beckett!” the angry vampire snapped as he approached the desk.
“Too far?” Beckett smirked. “Can a vampire go too far? Or are you merely angry because you didn't think of it first?”
“You've got more lives than a cat! What do you want, Beckett? If you're trying to kill us all, don't imagine you'll manage it!”
“Kill you?” Beckett smiled sweetly. “Wherever did you get that idea?”
“Taking our food off the streets! How else are we going to see it?”
“You really have so little imagination?” Beckett shook his head as he got to his feet and rounded the desk. As tall as Beckett was, Saporta was a few inches taller again and confident enough to be intimidating to all but the strongest. “The hospitals and factories are full of food - do you want it dressed up with ribbons? Don't you realise what I've done?”
“What?” Saporta asked, unimpressed by Beckett's self-importance. “Come on, Will, impress me, what have you done?”
Beckett smiled a broad smug grin before settling himself in a comfortable chair and indicating that Saporta take the seat opposite.
“You want rid of the hunters, the same as I do, but, unlike you, I've chosen to actually do something about it.”
“As I recall,” Saporta frowned as he leaned forward in the chair, “the last time you tried to `do something about it' they all but destroyed your Coven and burnt down you mansion. What are you going to let them do to you this time? Make you bathe in Holy Water? Turn you vegetarian?”
Beckett narrowed his eyes at the coven leader. This one had always been the biggest thorn in his side and the most irreverent. He had been the one he had looked forward to killing the most, but now, severely outnumbered by the other covens, he could not act on his murderous inclinations without risking his still very precarious position. Many of the vampire police, doctors and media, on whom he was currently reliant, owed their allegiance to no coven or master in particular and would act for whoever offered the most, but perhaps, he hoped, they might show loyalty to one who destroyed the last of the hunters?
“No, Gabriel, what I have done is to isolate them utterly. No human will have sympathy for them after my first decree ordering a curfew. Humans have such selective memories. No one will remember what they've done to make the town safer. No one will care about the efforts they've gone to, the personal sacrifices they've made. No, they will be hated and soon, after I release my second decree, offering a bounty on them, they'll be hunted by their own kind… well, two of them, anyway. And that, my dear Gabriel is were, if you so wish, you can be of assistance. Two of their group are vampires…”
“Two?” Saporta queried.
“It's a long story, but suffice to say Peter turned Patrick and is now suffering the consequences.”
Saporta grinned cruelly. “You finally made him drink human blood?”
“Indeed I did,” Beckett smirked triumphantly. “No doubt Patrick believes he can help him get past his addiction. Now, we both know he might as well ask the rain to fall upwards, but he must have his fantasy. I want you to make things much worse for the irksome little runt.”
“How?” Saporta grinned.
“Befriend them, offer your help to halt the addiction. He's already killed.”
“What's in it for me?” Saporta mused on the request.
“What do you want?”
“This town.”
“No,” Beckett shook his head, flashing a wry smile at the other vampire. “This is my town.”
“I want a piece of it,” he grew serious as he spoke. “I want the monopoly on gambling. Okay?”
Beckett smiled, nodding his approval. “Of course. It seems fair that you should deal in the only acceptable kind of stakes.”
Saporta nodded to acknowledge the attempt at humour and his gratitude at the concession. “By the time I've finished, they'll both be addicted and along with their craving they'd be delighting in the kill.”
“By the time you're finished, Gabriel, I want to watch them eat Andrew and Joseph. Do you accept?”
Without another word, Saporta offered a hand to Beckett to seal the deal. It felt too easy, but Beckett was determined to take nothing for granted. This time, he would destroy the hunters and he would enjoy every moment.
“The wipers!” Joe yelled above the clamour.
“What?” Andy shouted back. “That won't get them off!”
Unwilling to waste time explaining why, Joe leaned over and turned the switch to spray the windshield from the washer bottle. Deafening screams filled the car as sizzling vampires rolled off the hood, bouncing on the asphalt as they tried to stop the burning that spread over their bodies. With the speed of the car allowing the water to fly further, beyond the windshield, a few more squirts from the bottle had showered the whole car with what Andy now realised was Holy Water and within moments, the attacking vampires were just specks in the rear-view mirror.
“How did… Did you do that?” Andy stammered, grateful to have put the attack behind them so quickly, but still shocked at how sudden it had been.
“Yeah,” Joe sighed with relief. “I filled the bottle with Holy Water after… the first rescue attempt when they had you in the mansion. We… were attacked in the car and I just thought…”
“You're a genius, Joe,” Andy grinned, elated to have escaped but also pleased that Joe was talking again. “You know that don't you?”
“Well, I… Andy, I'm sorry.”
“What about?” Andy smile quickly faded.
“I've been so wrapped up in my own problems that…”
“Joe, that's understandable,” Andy interrupted.
“Hear me out please, Andy,” Joe replied, firmly, but kindly. “I barely knew her…”
“But…”
“Andy, please!”
“Sorry. Go on, I'm listening.”
Joe nodded thoughtfully; he knew he hadn't considered what he wanted to say and that it was going to come out in a way that some people might describe as freeform or organic but he would simply describe it as garbled. He just hoped that he would make some sense and that Andy would understand.
“I barely knew her, but she meant so much more to me than I can say. I can't explain it, but I… think I loved her, Andy. I don't think I'll ever know for sure and I think for some reason that's really hurting me. I should be upset that she's gone, but all I can think about is that I'll never know if she was the one… you know? I know that doesn't make any sense… in fact it sounds almost clinical. What kind of a man am I that that's my biggest concern!”
Andy turned his head sharply as Joe's voice rose in pitch and volume as he became increasingly angry. Unwilling to stop the car again, Andy kept moving but offered his reply.
“Just the normal kind, Joe,” he said softly. “The kind that finds it too hard to deal with something so terrible that he focuses on something a little less painful then beats himself up over it.”
Joe turned to face Andy, who kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. He had, by now, realised that Joe was trying to cope, trying to deal with it but was fighting himself. Andy had to make him realise that how he was coping was a perfectly normal grieving stage - denial - refusing to think about it and diverting his thoughts. By staring ahead and talking chattily, he hoped to convince Joe that he wasn't just being sympathetic and hopefully, be believed.
“You're dealing with it, Joe. There's no particular way to be, or think, you just get through it the best you can. But we're here for you when you need us and well, when you don't too. You may feel on your own with this and I can't lie and say I know exactly what you're feeling, but I do know how it feels to lose someone. It messes with your head, Joe, it really does, but that's normal and so are you.”
“Thanks, Andy, you're the best,” Joe nodded. He still appeared tired, but he seemed much calmer.
“Let's go home, I still haven't heard anything from Pete.”
“You don't honestly expect him to think to contact you, do you?” Joe raised an eyebrow.
“Not really, but… well it'd be good to know if he's safe at least.”
*
Beckett drummed his fingers on the desk and looked up to the ceiling. He hadn't expected to wait so long and he was growing increasingly impatient. Finally, after what seemed an age, the door opened to reveal Brendon who, after a short respectful bow, stepped a few paces into the room.
“Who do we have?” Beckett asked with a stern expression fixed on his face.
“Master Saporta,” Brendon replied equally coolly.
“Alone?” Beckett asked with an eyebrow raised in surprise.
“His Second is with him, but I've told him to wait.”
“Well then, Brendon, show Master Saporta in. I suspect we have much to discuss.”
“Yes, Master William.”
A short pause followed before the door opened once more.
“Master William,” Brendon announced. “Master Saporta to see you.”
Beckett looked up as the tall dark vampire leader of the Midtown Coven strode confidently into the room. Beckett's expression, already superior moved towards smug conceit as he noticed the irritation on the newcomer's face.
“Good evening, Gabriel, please come in.”
“You've gone too far now, Beckett!” the angry vampire snapped as he approached the desk.
“Too far?” Beckett smirked. “Can a vampire go too far? Or are you merely angry because you didn't think of it first?”
“You've got more lives than a cat! What do you want, Beckett? If you're trying to kill us all, don't imagine you'll manage it!”
“Kill you?” Beckett smiled sweetly. “Wherever did you get that idea?”
“Taking our food off the streets! How else are we going to see it?”
“You really have so little imagination?” Beckett shook his head as he got to his feet and rounded the desk. As tall as Beckett was, Saporta was a few inches taller again and confident enough to be intimidating to all but the strongest. “The hospitals and factories are full of food - do you want it dressed up with ribbons? Don't you realise what I've done?”
“What?” Saporta asked, unimpressed by Beckett's self-importance. “Come on, Will, impress me, what have you done?”
Beckett smiled a broad smug grin before settling himself in a comfortable chair and indicating that Saporta take the seat opposite.
“You want rid of the hunters, the same as I do, but, unlike you, I've chosen to actually do something about it.”
“As I recall,” Saporta frowned as he leaned forward in the chair, “the last time you tried to `do something about it' they all but destroyed your Coven and burnt down you mansion. What are you going to let them do to you this time? Make you bathe in Holy Water? Turn you vegetarian?”
Beckett narrowed his eyes at the coven leader. This one had always been the biggest thorn in his side and the most irreverent. He had been the one he had looked forward to killing the most, but now, severely outnumbered by the other covens, he could not act on his murderous inclinations without risking his still very precarious position. Many of the vampire police, doctors and media, on whom he was currently reliant, owed their allegiance to no coven or master in particular and would act for whoever offered the most, but perhaps, he hoped, they might show loyalty to one who destroyed the last of the hunters?
“No, Gabriel, what I have done is to isolate them utterly. No human will have sympathy for them after my first decree ordering a curfew. Humans have such selective memories. No one will remember what they've done to make the town safer. No one will care about the efforts they've gone to, the personal sacrifices they've made. No, they will be hated and soon, after I release my second decree, offering a bounty on them, they'll be hunted by their own kind… well, two of them, anyway. And that, my dear Gabriel is were, if you so wish, you can be of assistance. Two of their group are vampires…”
“Two?” Saporta queried.
“It's a long story, but suffice to say Peter turned Patrick and is now suffering the consequences.”
Saporta grinned cruelly. “You finally made him drink human blood?”
“Indeed I did,” Beckett smirked triumphantly. “No doubt Patrick believes he can help him get past his addiction. Now, we both know he might as well ask the rain to fall upwards, but he must have his fantasy. I want you to make things much worse for the irksome little runt.”
“How?” Saporta grinned.
“Befriend them, offer your help to halt the addiction. He's already killed.”
“What's in it for me?” Saporta mused on the request.
“What do you want?”
“This town.”
“No,” Beckett shook his head, flashing a wry smile at the other vampire. “This is my town.”
“I want a piece of it,” he grew serious as he spoke. “I want the monopoly on gambling. Okay?”
Beckett smiled, nodding his approval. “Of course. It seems fair that you should deal in the only acceptable kind of stakes.”
Saporta nodded to acknowledge the attempt at humour and his gratitude at the concession. “By the time I've finished, they'll both be addicted and along with their craving they'd be delighting in the kill.”
“By the time you're finished, Gabriel, I want to watch them eat Andrew and Joseph. Do you accept?”
Without another word, Saporta offered a hand to Beckett to seal the deal. It felt too easy, but Beckett was determined to take nothing for granted. This time, he would destroy the hunters and he would enjoy every moment.
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