Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Vampires & Werewolves in London
The First Visitors
0 reviewsThe first people show up at the shop. Gerard has some interesting comments.
0Unrated
R&R
Down the street, there can be heard the noise of a large, horse-drawn coach coming closer. The hoof-beats are muffled by the water on the ground, yet the noise of the splashing from the horses and vehicle more than compensate for it. There is nearly 3 inches of standing water on the ground. The horses must be having a difficult time with getting this vehicle here. They sound like they are moving as swiftly as possible, despite the weather.
Whoever it is, they must be very important, or have something of life or death matter to attend to, in order to be out and about in this weather, especially going that fast. It was something that was undeniable about the situation. If the person has the nerve to go this fast in this weather, it must be important.
Within moments, the coach comes into view, drawn by 2 horses. They are entirely black, with the exception of white marks. These seem to be the only way to tell between them. One has a white face, while the other has the lower portions of its legs in white. The coach itself is plain black, the metal pieces shining dully. It was well-kept, and neat, though simple.
The coach has barely stopped, when a the door opens, and a man jumps out, landing on the pavement. He shuts the door and waves the driver off. The driver speeds off somewhere else. He knows that he will not be needed again till sunrise, nearly 12 hours from now.
The man who has jumped out of the coach is an odd sight. His hair and hat obscure much of his face. Even though it is night, he wears sunglasses, a tint so dark they appear black. From what we can see of his face, he appears to be dark-skinned. Something rarely seen, if at all, in London at these times.
He strolled right into the shop. The door was unlocked, despite the fact that they were subject to crime at any time, and the serial killer on the loose. The proprietor of this shop obviously wasn't concerned. Either that, or he just wasn't afraid of the threats of danger out there.
Inside the shop, the lamps and candles that had cast a barely noticeable glow outside shone brightly enough to make everything a stark contrast. It was like day and night. Now, the man who had entered the shop was glad of his sunglasses.
Inside, behind a counter, and perched upon a high stool, there sat a young man. Even sitting as he was, it was easy to tell that he was tall. His messy sandy brown hair stuck up at odd angles. The reason for this was obvious, as he raked his hand through his hair in his frustration as he scribbled something in his ledger.
The man who had entered the shop picked up a name plaque that sat on the counter. Michael James Way it read. Just then, the man who sat on the stool looked up. “Slash. How pleasant to see you.” he said. The man, undoubtedly Slash, replaced the plaque with a slightly guilty look, and said, “Goodnight, Mikey.” He tipped his hat in a polite gesture. It the process, he managed to splash water over everything.
Everything about him was soaked, even though he had only been in the rain for the briefest of moments. His coat and hat dripped water, his glasses had beads of water on them, and droplets of water stuck to his mass of curly hair.
Mikey fought to keep from laughing, and to keep the disapproving look on his face. It didn't work, because a moment later, he smirked. Shaking his head slightly, he grabbed up a rag and blotted his ledger lightly, soaking up the water that had splashed there and threatened to smudge his work. “You're the first one here anyways. Go downstairs, and make yourself at home.” Mikey said, flipping back a few pages in his ledger and making a check mark.
Slash nodded, reaching up just in time to catch a towel aimed at his head by Mikey. When he looked at the skinny boy in question, the only response he got was, “For the love of everything holy, don't just drip water over everything in sight!”
Slash rolled his eyes behind his glasses, before continuing down the stairs with his towel. Mikey sighed, before looking at the time. Not even 10 past 8. Then, he looked down at his ledger, where he had made the tick mark. The sight was enough to make him want to scream and rip his hair out.
Instead,he settled for a slight squacking noise, before whapping his head against the ledger a few times. “Trying to beat your brains out against your records Mikey? Really?” a soft, velvety voice asked. The only response Mikey gave was to yank off one shoe and throw it at the voice. A soft thump, and a chuckle later told him that the shoe had been caught, and hadn't done any damage.
“Throwing shoes isn't polite.” The voice said, before the shoe was set down mere inches from Mikey's nose. “Damn you Gerard.” Mikey snapped, sitting up and attempting to put his shoe on again. Gerard just smiled from where he stood, as though he found it amusing. His younger brother was really a pain in the arse when he wanted to be.
“Hey, we're both already damned, not that it makes much of a difference. So I don't know what damning me again is going to do.” Gerard said with a shrug, strolling across to the stairs that lead up to the next level. “Well then, double-damn you!” Mikey said, flustered. Gerard laughed again as he plopped himself onto the stairs, and took his sketchbook out of where it resided in his pack.
Opening the bottle of ink he fished out from his bag, he grabbed a pen, and started to draw. Mikey let out a sigh of relief. If it kept Gerard occupied, he was okay with it. He continued to write in his ledger. Outside, another coach pulled up. Where the prior coach had been simple, this one was absolutely shocking in it's outlandishness. It simply begged for attention. And attention it received, as it looked so bizarre.
The outside of the coach was hot pink. The curtains were a light pink, embroidered in lace. Where as the prior coach had been drawn by two black horses, this one was drawn by four solid white horses, with pink feathers on the tops of their bridles, similar to those of circus horses. The horses trappings were exquisite, free from crease or blemish. The majesty of the coach extended to the coach-man, who wore an embroidered cloak. It was apparent that the owner of the coach did not want to look bad. Trashy was a different story.
Upon getting an eyeful of the coach outside, Gerard groaned. “Fuck no! Here it comes again!” he whined loudly. Mikey shushed him, muttering, “Don't you even dare go there again. A city divided against itself cannot stand.”
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Gerard asked, obviously in a bad mood. “Means that there's too few non-humans, even in this city, for them to be at war with each other. Why else do you think the vampires stopped fighting with the werewolves? They realized that it was useless to fight with them, because in the end, there wouldn't be any of them left!” Mikey practically yelled, readying himself for throwing his shoe again.
The door opened again with a tinkling noise from the bell affixed above the door. It was obviously The person who owned the ridiculous coach that had been spotted mere moments before. A woman entered, wearing a large, complicated dress. Hoop skirts, multiple petticoats, and more were included in this ensemble.
Her hair was dyed a bright shade of pink, nearly garish to look at. Her make-up was overdone, giving the impression of a prostitute. The scent of cotton candy and vanilla followed her into the shop. Behind her trailed an androgynous youth, who didn't look a day over 21.
Mikey ticked a single name off the list, before flipping forward a page, and writing something down. “I see that you've brought everyone this time.” he said, halfway joking. “Yeah. Any reason I shouldn't bring my bitch?” the woman asked. But the voice was not that of a woman. Instead, it was a man's voice. She was not a she. She was a he. A transvestite.
“No, there's no reason why. Just keep a close eye on him. No telling what's going to happen tonight” Mikey said with a shrug. “So where's everyone else?” The transvestite asked. Mikey pointed at the stairs that lead down to the basement silently. The transvestite smirked, then nodded, walking towards the stairs, before continuing down them. The human pet followed a few steps behind.
In reality, a human pet would be the best thing to call the person who'd followed the tranny down the stairs. The thing was, most of the human pets were not adverse to their condition. In fact, they rather preferred it, knowing that when things got hectic, they may very well be the only ones who were surviving human-wise.
Several minutes after the duet had left the ground-floor, another coach pulled up in front of the shop. Nearly 20 past 8, and things were finally getting a move on. The powder-blue door of the coach opened, and two men stepped out. They were fairly tall, and they looked like something that you didn't want to run into while walking down a dark alley.
They entered the shop quietly. Mikey looked up and said, “Goodnight, Jade, Davey.” Jade bowed in a Chinese manner, saying, “Konnichiwa!” Davey rolled his eyes, whacking his companion over the head, before replying, “Goonight, Mikey. Please ignore this pain in my neck.” Jade gave him a look that would have surely made someone wilt. Davey ignored this, and then said, “Everyone's downstairs, right?” Mikey nodded.
“Well then I'll be seeing you in a few.” Davey said, walking towards the stairs. “Sayanora!” Jade yelled, skipping down the stairs. Gerard and Mikey just stared at the retreating back in confusion. Then, they looked up, meeting each other's eyes. With the kind of act that can only be performed by siblings or best friends, they shrugged. Alls well that ends well. Mikey looked down at his list and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Down the street, there can be heard the noise of a large, horse-drawn coach coming closer. The hoof-beats are muffled by the water on the ground, yet the noise of the splashing from the horses and vehicle more than compensate for it. There is nearly 3 inches of standing water on the ground. The horses must be having a difficult time with getting this vehicle here. They sound like they are moving as swiftly as possible, despite the weather.
Whoever it is, they must be very important, or have something of life or death matter to attend to, in order to be out and about in this weather, especially going that fast. It was something that was undeniable about the situation. If the person has the nerve to go this fast in this weather, it must be important.
Within moments, the coach comes into view, drawn by 2 horses. They are entirely black, with the exception of white marks. These seem to be the only way to tell between them. One has a white face, while the other has the lower portions of its legs in white. The coach itself is plain black, the metal pieces shining dully. It was well-kept, and neat, though simple.
The coach has barely stopped, when a the door opens, and a man jumps out, landing on the pavement. He shuts the door and waves the driver off. The driver speeds off somewhere else. He knows that he will not be needed again till sunrise, nearly 12 hours from now.
The man who has jumped out of the coach is an odd sight. His hair and hat obscure much of his face. Even though it is night, he wears sunglasses, a tint so dark they appear black. From what we can see of his face, he appears to be dark-skinned. Something rarely seen, if at all, in London at these times.
He strolled right into the shop. The door was unlocked, despite the fact that they were subject to crime at any time, and the serial killer on the loose. The proprietor of this shop obviously wasn't concerned. Either that, or he just wasn't afraid of the threats of danger out there.
Inside the shop, the lamps and candles that had cast a barely noticeable glow outside shone brightly enough to make everything a stark contrast. It was like day and night. Now, the man who had entered the shop was glad of his sunglasses.
Inside, behind a counter, and perched upon a high stool, there sat a young man. Even sitting as he was, it was easy to tell that he was tall. His messy sandy brown hair stuck up at odd angles. The reason for this was obvious, as he raked his hand through his hair in his frustration as he scribbled something in his ledger.
The man who had entered the shop picked up a name plaque that sat on the counter. Michael James Way it read. Just then, the man who sat on the stool looked up. “Slash. How pleasant to see you.” he said. The man, undoubtedly Slash, replaced the plaque with a slightly guilty look, and said, “Goodnight, Mikey.” He tipped his hat in a polite gesture. It the process, he managed to splash water over everything.
Everything about him was soaked, even though he had only been in the rain for the briefest of moments. His coat and hat dripped water, his glasses had beads of water on them, and droplets of water stuck to his mass of curly hair.
Mikey fought to keep from laughing, and to keep the disapproving look on his face. It didn't work, because a moment later, he smirked. Shaking his head slightly, he grabbed up a rag and blotted his ledger lightly, soaking up the water that had splashed there and threatened to smudge his work. “You're the first one here anyways. Go downstairs, and make yourself at home.” Mikey said, flipping back a few pages in his ledger and making a check mark.
Slash nodded, reaching up just in time to catch a towel aimed at his head by Mikey. When he looked at the skinny boy in question, the only response he got was, “For the love of everything holy, don't just drip water over everything in sight!”
Slash rolled his eyes behind his glasses, before continuing down the stairs with his towel. Mikey sighed, before looking at the time. Not even 10 past 8. Then, he looked down at his ledger, where he had made the tick mark. The sight was enough to make him want to scream and rip his hair out.
Instead,he settled for a slight squacking noise, before whapping his head against the ledger a few times. “Trying to beat your brains out against your records Mikey? Really?” a soft, velvety voice asked. The only response Mikey gave was to yank off one shoe and throw it at the voice. A soft thump, and a chuckle later told him that the shoe had been caught, and hadn't done any damage.
“Throwing shoes isn't polite.” The voice said, before the shoe was set down mere inches from Mikey's nose. “Damn you Gerard.” Mikey snapped, sitting up and attempting to put his shoe on again. Gerard just smiled from where he stood, as though he found it amusing. His younger brother was really a pain in the arse when he wanted to be.
“Hey, we're both already damned, not that it makes much of a difference. So I don't know what damning me again is going to do.” Gerard said with a shrug, strolling across to the stairs that lead up to the next level. “Well then, double-damn you!” Mikey said, flustered. Gerard laughed again as he plopped himself onto the stairs, and took his sketchbook out of where it resided in his pack.
Opening the bottle of ink he fished out from his bag, he grabbed a pen, and started to draw. Mikey let out a sigh of relief. If it kept Gerard occupied, he was okay with it. He continued to write in his ledger. Outside, another coach pulled up. Where the prior coach had been simple, this one was absolutely shocking in it's outlandishness. It simply begged for attention. And attention it received, as it looked so bizarre.
The outside of the coach was hot pink. The curtains were a light pink, embroidered in lace. Where as the prior coach had been drawn by two black horses, this one was drawn by four solid white horses, with pink feathers on the tops of their bridles, similar to those of circus horses. The horses trappings were exquisite, free from crease or blemish. The majesty of the coach extended to the coach-man, who wore an embroidered cloak. It was apparent that the owner of the coach did not want to look bad. Trashy was a different story.
Upon getting an eyeful of the coach outside, Gerard groaned. “Fuck no! Here it comes again!” he whined loudly. Mikey shushed him, muttering, “Don't you even dare go there again. A city divided against itself cannot stand.”
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Gerard asked, obviously in a bad mood. “Means that there's too few non-humans, even in this city, for them to be at war with each other. Why else do you think the vampires stopped fighting with the werewolves? They realized that it was useless to fight with them, because in the end, there wouldn't be any of them left!” Mikey practically yelled, readying himself for throwing his shoe again.
The door opened again with a tinkling noise from the bell affixed above the door. It was obviously The person who owned the ridiculous coach that had been spotted mere moments before. A woman entered, wearing a large, complicated dress. Hoop skirts, multiple petticoats, and more were included in this ensemble.
Her hair was dyed a bright shade of pink, nearly garish to look at. Her make-up was overdone, giving the impression of a prostitute. The scent of cotton candy and vanilla followed her into the shop. Behind her trailed an androgynous youth, who didn't look a day over 21.
Mikey ticked a single name off the list, before flipping forward a page, and writing something down. “I see that you've brought everyone this time.” he said, halfway joking. “Yeah. Any reason I shouldn't bring my bitch?” the woman asked. But the voice was not that of a woman. Instead, it was a man's voice. She was not a she. She was a he. A transvestite.
“No, there's no reason why. Just keep a close eye on him. No telling what's going to happen tonight” Mikey said with a shrug. “So where's everyone else?” The transvestite asked. Mikey pointed at the stairs that lead down to the basement silently. The transvestite smirked, then nodded, walking towards the stairs, before continuing down them. The human pet followed a few steps behind.
In reality, a human pet would be the best thing to call the person who'd followed the tranny down the stairs. The thing was, most of the human pets were not adverse to their condition. In fact, they rather preferred it, knowing that when things got hectic, they may very well be the only ones who were surviving human-wise.
Several minutes after the duet had left the ground-floor, another coach pulled up in front of the shop. Nearly 20 past 8, and things were finally getting a move on. The powder-blue door of the coach opened, and two men stepped out. They were fairly tall, and they looked like something that you didn't want to run into while walking down a dark alley.
They entered the shop quietly. Mikey looked up and said, “Goodnight, Jade, Davey.” Jade bowed in a Chinese manner, saying, “Konnichiwa!” Davey rolled his eyes, whacking his companion over the head, before replying, “Goonight, Mikey. Please ignore this pain in my neck.” Jade gave him a look that would have surely made someone wilt. Davey ignored this, and then said, “Everyone's downstairs, right?” Mikey nodded.
“Well then I'll be seeing you in a few.” Davey said, walking towards the stairs. “Sayanora!” Jade yelled, skipping down the stairs. Gerard and Mikey just stared at the retreating back in confusion. Then, they looked up, meeting each other's eyes. With the kind of act that can only be performed by siblings or best friends, they shrugged. Alls well that ends well. Mikey looked down at his list and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
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