A child was conceived under the influence of herion.
Her unknown birth parents were as high as a bird.
Ironic, isn't it?
What other choice did they have?
They had no money for a child,
much less wanted one in the first place?
Those two looked into every possibility to make some quick cash off of this "miracle" they have created, finding it worth something at the least.
At last, they found their answer in the form of a door to door salesman. For a company called: ITEX.
He was let in with the promise of making the two a fortune off of the misfortunate situation they were in at that moment.
He explained that in exchange for the unborn child, he would grant the parents an easy ten thousand dollars for their troubles.
Of course, they accepted, not really caring what happened to the baby after its birth in a few months.
November 24, 199x
2:42 AM
Hours of meaningless and loveless labor for this child. In the company's hospital bed, ready to steal it away when it emerged.
A beautiful baby girl.
As promised, the couple were given their ten thousand dollars for their time and were sent free after the woman finished her part.
Little is known what happened to these two. Some say, they left NYC, and fled to Alantic City where they overdosed a month or two after the exchange.
As for the child....
So began her life of nothing but torment.
The program she was handed over to was called the By-Half Plan. In short, Doctors and Scientists wanted to play God with a human, and turn them into an immortal being.
The plan was to create the world's first and only manmade Angel, able to travel between realms and speak with the Deities themselves about the upcoming Apocolypse, as forseen by the Biblical texts. Humankind aimed to save their own skin, at the loss of one of their own.
Selfish
The first done to this baby was place her in this cage, like a feral dog. It was almost an ordinary dog crate, except with very hefty locks on the outside, to prevent her from escaping.
At a week old, the experiments began. Very small ones. Simple pricks of needles, injecting chemicals into her fresh, untouched veins, attempting for her to grow a tolerance to them for the future. They wanted her to adapt.
Week two, ITEX had their first flatline for Subject 00. Brought back after twenty minutes of desperation to not have to start over, since they only had a certain amount of time and budget.
When her brunette hair started to grow out a month in, ITEX employees realized something. They got to shape an Angel. Whatever they wanted her to look like, it was their choice.
A poll.
One needle to the skull, her locks would change in color permanently.
Black.
Another change. Her eyes. One needle to each eye, sinking right into the soft tissues, injecting the most stunning blue pigment they could get their hands on.
As she increased in age, so did the experiments.
At the ripe old age of six, a major procedure needed to be done.
Ripped away from the cage she grew up in, Subject 00 screamed bloody murder. It took minutes to strap her to a cold metal table, leather digging into her pale flesh, constricting any movement. A strange, large machine was brought over the child. Of course, she never knew what was happening at the time.
With her arms extended and strapped down, veins were perfectly bulging from the skin, easy to detect.
Two thick medical IVs were stuck into her veins, causing the child to continue to scream. Attached to the strange machine, the Subject was ready.
Moving to the sides of the table, one Doctor flipped a few switches, causing this pinkish liquid to slowly trail through the plastic tubing and into the little girl.
IT WAS LIKE FIRE.
The girl cried, begged, squealed, screeched, shrieked.
Until there wasn't anything coming from her lungs anymore.
She laid there, motionless, but concious.
The pain ran throughout her body.
-/-
It finished after an hour.
What the child did not realize was she had small percentages of animal DNA flowing through her bloodstream, shaping the cells she already had.
Speed:
Cheetah
0.5%
Strength:
Elephant
0.5%
Flight:
Raven
2.0%
After this major procedure, it was nothing but training her mind, her body, and her loyalty.
Like before, she was barely fed, only given supplements to keep her alive. She was starved more often to test her, if she would bite the hand that fed her.
She would be forced to run on treadmills for days at a time, stamina and speed checks; to lift up to sixty tons at a time, strength and endurance checks; to injest the knowledge of every language and be able to speak it, however never taught to read or write.
It would only be a few weeks until those black wings would tear, rip and burst through the skin on her back, meaning she would have to learn to fly, like a baby bird forced from its nest.
She was fifteen.
At the age of sixteen, she had her chance.
The scientists had put her kennel on wheels and pulled her along towards another laboratory. It was loose, the bars.
Subject 00 had only seconds for this plan to work.
C R E A K !
The young lady was able to bend the metal bars far enough for her naked, thin, and yet thick frame to fit through. Using the speed that the Doctors and Scientists gave her, she bolted as fast as she could to the nearest window.
C R A A A S H !
She was finally free.
For the first time in her life, she smelled the fresh air, saw the nature growing and roaming around her, felt the grass on her bare feet. She was...entranced, yet strangely terrified.
That quickly changed with the danger behind her.
Spreading that twenty foot wing-span, she's off.
-/-
Subject 00 glided into the city that night.
NYC, the city that never sleeps.
She was cold, naked, hungry.
Desperate.
Taking the first chance to land, she slid into an alleyway behind a fast food chain.
The smell from behind the dumpster nearby was so off-putting but incredibly enticing since she was hungry.
Ignoring any morals (as if she had any) she dove in the trash and fished out enough stale bread and fries to fill her for the night.
At least, before she vomitted most of it up later from the conditioning her stomach had been put through.
Subject 00 quickly adapted to eating after the second time throwing everything up.
Sitting there, the lady gazed around at her surroundings.
Everything seemed so lively for it being this dark outside. She didn't understand anything around her.
Seeing a billboard above her head, the lady took herself up to stand at the ledge, looking at the letters in front of her.
She couldn't read it, however.
It was for a Gentleman's Club.
But...she stared at the name of the man who ran it.
Ryan.
The name seemed to stick...
And in that moment, it was hers.
-/-
Moving forward a few years of struggling for shelter, spending nights in strange men's beds for cash, fishing through dumpsters for scraps of food or clothing...
Ryan has learned what it is like on the outside.
Well, not entirely.
Some things still aren't branded in her memory.
Ryan managed to find a job without any background check! One where she wouldn't need to learn to read or write.
She became a stripper at a local joint called The Devil's Angels.
As far as the owner is concerned, she is another broken woman from a shitty alcoholic father who couldn't keep his hands to himself.
With her thick, voluptuous frame, long ebony curls, shining oceanic colored eyes, pale fair skin, he couldn't have asked for a more beautiful woman to work for him.
You would think they would question the giant wings on her back, right?
No.
Everyone who comes in sees the wings as a prop from how drunk or high they are. No one questions if they are real.
Perfect for Ryan.
Not everything is all rainbows and sunshine however....
The nightmares of her growing environment still plague her mind every night when she closes her artificial eyes.
The stabbing,
pokes,
jabs,
cuts,
blood,
smells,
everything.
Moving on from this is going to be a very difficult task for the Little Bird.
With ITEX still searching for their lost subject, to the struggle to feed and clothe herself every day and night.
But in the end...
She's ready as she's ever going to be.
-/-
Subject 00's Official Doctorial Checksheet:
Physical abilities:
- Training has allowed Subject 00 the ability to lift up to 60 tons with enough rage.
- Speed is a key factor for the Subject. Last clock in: 102 MPH.
- Can be increased with enough outer stimuli.
- Flight is critical for Subject.
- Height is not a factor, only air quality and pressure.
- Atmosphere flight: still not possible.
- Healing factor is still a progress.
- Subject 00 can heal others, but not itself.
- Takes on others injuries on its body.
Mental Abilities:
- Subject is able to analyze minds of anyone it has come across, even the most reluctant to let it.
- Excellent memory tests
- Able to recall every previous lesson at the snap of fingers.
- Language tests are successful.
- Every language can be translated by sense of hearing, including creature.
Spiritual Abilities:
- Black, smoke-like wisps work as intended. Choke whatever living being they touch if inhaled. Can also take the shape of any animal it chooses.
- Subject seems to have an attraction towards animals, and they seem to attract back.
- "Mother Nature" aspect.
Others "aspects" noteable for Subject 00:
- Likes to collect shiny items, such as paper clips.
- Could be a factor of the Raven DNA
- Able to use anything to its well being.
- Turned metal fragment into knife by strength
- Seems to like the colors blue, black and white.
- Ironic.
- Does not like meat.
- Will eat if starved beyond recognition
- Prefers plants and plant by-products
- Animal by-products such as milk seem to rest well with it
- Terrified of thunderstorms
- Due to fact of living conditions throughout life
- Alone in labortories
- Due to fact of living conditions throughout life
Overall, Subject 00 still in need of work. Some failed tests can be redone next session.
ITEX Head Researcher
By-Half Experiment
-/-
Friends? What are those?
Jason Kei Hale...is an interesting person that Ryan has associated with in her earlier years. With some romantic tension between them somewhat gone after a difficult split and two years of distance, they meet again in Vegas by chance. Now, they are again grouped together with a mission they never finished: take down the organization that created Ryan. Both equiped with different skills and abilities, they set out to stop the organization from creating new threats to destroy humankind.
Current status: "Answer the fucking phone, Jason..."
Rules of RP:
- FC: Lily Collins
- At least a paragraph for a response.
- 18+ activity is here. Writer is 23. No one under the age of 18, please.
- I love to Roleplay a ton of different ways. Please, don't be afraid to ask for another setting if the current doesn't tickle your fancy.
- Have fun! That's what we are here for, right?
Comments
How long had it been? Two years, more? How long had she been going like that? By the looks of it, at least a few late nights on end as of late. Something about that stern stare of his loosened as she spoke up again. Jason licked his lips before pursing them, eyes cast to the table. As his thoughts went elsewhere, the tapping under the table caught his attention in the background. He snapped himself out of it as he cleared his throat.
"It's… fine, it is what it is," Jason murmured into his glass, drinking to it after. "...It's what happened." One part remorse, another part hesitation. He had things to sort out before he'd unpack the subject for himself. Hell knew he’d had long enough to think.
The story went on. His posture had stiffened considerably, putting the imagery together, Jason perked up when something felt vaguely familiar. "Don't suppose he owned a tattoo shop," He murmured under his breath somewhere within her speaking, trying to put the threads together. He didn't know where his mind settled over it all. Somewhere between surprise and shock, trying to put together a story from a night that was hazy at best for him. This was the side of it he'd been absent for.
When her words cut off, his eyes shifted from the table. She'd probably wished they hadn't by the time she continued, earning a raised brow from the cat. His eyes cast to the window further down, staring at the dark like there was something to be seen. The story went elsewhere then and his gaze was back within the booth. His head nodded slowly. "Yeah… I remember. So we'd slowed them down a matter of months, that's all?" He deduced bitterly. And during those months of silence? Well…
Another drink. He was running low on how many remained.
His eyes studied the glass as she continued through the road-tripping. Vegas. The other man’s name was as unfamiliar as the cambion put into question in the back of his mind, but he was quiet throughout. They could’ve been home free out there, or so he thought. The only thing that would keep himself from thriving in the environment was the noise and the heat. Jason cast a glance up when she snickered a bit, pursing his lips toward the apology when the silence drug on. He didn’t overly mind it when he wasn’t sure that he’d like what he might hear.
He didn’t. Raising the glass one more time, he’d drink to that too, all the same. Rather than a scowl, he studied the table surface thoughtfully for a moment or two. “I’m sorry,” Jason murmured somewhere within the silence she’d left behind.
New York, Vegas, LA… A few cities later and he swore under his breath. Jason leaned back in his seat fully. When the bartender’s eyes lifted to make eye contact he held up his glass a fraction, index finger suggesting ‘one more’. He set it down afterwards and pulled out his wallet, rifling through for a couple of bills as he spoke. “That leaves a lot of ground to cover… first thing’s first, what they’ve started isn’t right, it isn’t natural… and those things aren’t going to keep a low profile on their own.”
His lips were sealed as the second glass was brought out, set on the table and traded for a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered after with a nod.
His eyes met hers with tiredness to the concept, brow furrowing once again as she spoke. “First, Sin City… now you’re asking me what I think is right and wrong. Hell’s really freezing over, isn’t it?” A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth but it wouldn’t stay for long. He raised the glass up and took a drink.
“You know more about that place than anyone on the outside; anyone that isn’t working for ‘em. Keeping that and yourself alive is better than anybody else could be doing… there’s a lot of right and wrong ways to do it, but survival is survival.” Jason leaned forward closer to the table’s center. “I suppose we start right where we are. What we took down at the museum, I called it in. They’ll give me an update when they’ve looked into it, maybe we can find something out. ITEX isn’t the only organization with a headquarters out here. They aren’t the only ones equipped to deal with these things, either.”
Jason’s brow knitted together, seeing his first questions held little importance, but his lips were sealed. He kept his glass in hand yet as she spoke, piercing blues waiting upon her until she answered. “A pattern?” He prodded not long after. How long had it been? He had more questions piled up than answers, but it was no less surprising than how the night had panned out. With the rate they were going he was going to be stuck in the damned restaurant until sunrise.
Hearing the corporation’s name hadn’t surprised the man in the least; he knew few enterprises that tampered like ITEX had.. An arm propped itself against the table, thinking for a moment, watching the ice in his glass as it shifted. “So they never stopped playing god… I suppose we hadn’t even slowed them down.” He muttered under his breath. It all seemed like a while ago, but with what he’d been doing, everything past the last couple years felt distant. It was long enough, why the hell wouldn’t they have rebuilt by now? “Humans must not be quick enough for ‘em… wolves, vampires, anything else, they’re bad enough as is. Let alone sticking a needle to them. It takes something else to make a vampire flinch let alone change.” As she described it, the distaste showed across his face. Fucking wolves. Hell knew he’d dealt with enough for the year let alone a lifetime.
“Not exactly.” Jason answered. He took another long drink afterward before clearing his throat. “Have we figured out where they are headed from, then? The last building was across the country. Vegas seems like a stretch from the Big Apple.” He studied where she lay momentarily. “I could say the same for you. You said you came here with others.”
Waiting for his glass to be handed over, his eyes were on the counter other than the glance toward her to suggest a table. It was as close to private as they’d get in the restaurant, where he wasn’t so certain the staff was interested to begin with. Better safe than sorry, and thus, by the time the short glass was slid across the counter, he took it and followed her.
Jason took a seat on the other side, casting a wary look to the windows before he settled back into the booth calmly. The nocturnal streak hadn’t entirely vanished for the man by the looks of it. The question made his brow quirk, just a fraction. His eyes fell to his glass, taking his sweet time in bringing up to his lips. He set it down afterwards and cleared his throat. “Let’s start with whatever I stepped into, tonight. Maybe what you’re doing way out here.”
She won the award for being the last person he expected to run into on accident. He had favored his line of work for taking him out of the city in the first place. In the least, he didn’t think he’d find anyone out there. Yet, it had a way of catching up to him on occasion. His eyes did another sweep around the restaurant only to see a precarious glance coming from one of the servers, cleaning up the booths opposite one more time before his shift might be over. When eye contact was made the man turned promptly to the next table, turning his shoulders.
“It’s them… isn’t it? Are they back at it?” Jason piled on the third question in a whispered tone. He hadn’t given her much time to address the first two, but his head was reeling on it already. The thought put a pit in his stomach just as readily as anything else that night.
“That’ll work… give me an hour and I’ll be there.” A singular nod came from the man, the phone burning his hand in the meanwhile knowing the clock was ticking on the matter. He watched her turn in the meanwhile, an odd amount of calmness to his demeanor, where in the past it could have caused his head to spin outright. Things had changed. He didn’t know how much, or how little. The train of thought broke off when her wings raised, visible in the Neon Graveyard but it would be a different story in the dead of the night sky. By the time she took off he raised an arm to cover from debris, and within the next minute or so, she was gone. A button was pressed and he held the phone to his ear.
"Get me through to the Nevada site for a cleanup. I've... got something they might to want to look at."
"That's right."
"LV Boulevard. I'm at the old signage museum. Off ninth."
"-No, I'm not fuckin' kidding."
"Sorry..."
"No sirens yet but there's been enough commotion to cause 'em. The fewer eyes on this the better."
"Alright. I'll be waitin'."
Click.
-/-
The hour passed where the process had been quick. Quick enough to head back to the hotel room and drop a few things off, spare the few concealed things he kept on his person. His own observations came up stale without any identification on the body; he hadn’t expected it. Until he’d get a call it seemed like a dead-end. Well, not quite. With a little time to spare on his schedule, the door to Salvadoreno opened with only a side glance from the waiter busy mopping a table up from the previous guest. It was late, or early, depending on how one wanted to look at it. The city never slept, but Vegas’ intentions were monetary.
Ignoring whether the waiter was coming or not, his intentions were set on the bar. She’d hear him clear his throat not long before approaching to not scare her out of her skin. Or worse. He caught the eye contact of the man tending the counter, and rest his forearms on the edge of it just a space down. “I’ll do a Bulleit, on the rocks.” Jason gestured to a bottle behind the counter. The man nodded and got to work on the simple request. In the meanwhile, his head tilted her way. “Should we get a booth?” He questioned in a low murmur.
Unfinished business. He didn’t have to question what it meant and who it entailed. He remembered what he had seen through... well, everything else that he’d seen as of late. His eyes shifted to the body left on the ground, then. His brow furrowed speculatively and he unfastened the silencer, tucking it into a back pocket. The handgun returned to his belt. “They’re tampering with immortals now, huh?” Jason muttered rather sickly as he walked closer toward, inspecting the damage. The man couldn’t give a damn about vampires to begin with. They weren't any prettier after the corporation got their hands on them.
“I suppose it was a newborn… or they starved the poor son-of-a bitch,” On a case indeed, by the sound of it. His shoulders were turned away as he inspected it, already picking apart what happened that night. After a moment’s pondering he turned back to her. What was this hesitation? He could fire off a round into a shrieking monster, but he couldn’t maneuver this? After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “Yeah… I’m workin’. I happened to be in town... I got the call about a disturbance, and here we are.” As simple as that, right?
His face said otherwise yet when she looked up, his mouth a thin line. He watched her approach without true expectations but was left just as puzzled when she passed by. Jason’s head turned to follow with a brow raised. She had a point. It wasn’t the time nor place to be catching up, and the clock was ticking on whether sirens would come blaring or something else would come bumping in the night.
“-I need to take care of things here.” The man spoke up. His eyes shifted back and forth from the vampire to her once more. “Won’t be long, but I wouldn’t recommend sticking around for the questioning. If you get out of here now, then I was alone tonight. No questions asked.” He dug into his jacket’s inner pocket and a rugged smartphone was produced, and he was hunting for a number on the list. Once he found it, he exhaled a breath and turned back to her. “But I want to talk. Give me an hour here, let me know where you’ll be.”
While he was frozen in his own world of sorting things out, while the figure far closer to the creature hissing and shrieking in pain was bound to move quicker. He held his finger to the trigger firmly but the stranger was already moving. He wouldn’t risk the shot when they were moving, taking a few steps closer while he had the time already bought. The screech of a sound from the once-vampiric being caused his hair to stand on end and his ears to flatten, for as long as it went on until it was cut off abruptly. Literally. Subconsciously the barrel of the gun changed its target as the creature’s head dropped among the gravel of the walkway without much blood to be had at all. Clean cut. She knew what she was doing—another Hunter? What had he walked into? Things weren’t adding up over the past few days and it wasn’t about to get any easier.
When her head finally turned, he was standing out in the open. The shot was taken at around 20 feet away, but his footsteps had brought him closer to 15. The walkway lights did little to illuminate other than the man’s attire and the weapon in his hand. The gun was still held out, trained on her even as she shouted but he’d hardly taken notice to the words.
There was no mistaking it. He'd known before she had spoken. He would have been playing penny slots and sipping drinks but god damn the phone had to ring tonight, didn’t it? The tension in his arms went slack ever so slightly but he wouldn’t put the gun down quite yet. Hollow sockets were trained on her beneath the hood. If the focus was given, those voids could be recognized alongside the other features of his face.
Hearing his name snapped him out of the silence. Shit. The gun was lowered to his side and his shoulders dropped an inch. For a brief moment, his eyes ‘closed’ and his vision dimmed to let the curse suppress itself. Scarred bone withered little by little with the black dust-like essence of it returning to the atmosphere. The shadow. Wherever the hell it went in the end, he never quite knew.
“-What are you doing here?”
As demanding as the tone was, it was filled with as much unease as there was urgency. Jason took a few steps closer into one of the walkway lights, blue hues flickering from her to the carcass that was now perfectly still. His voice hadn’t changed a bit, but his face had. Once clean-shaven on most occasions, he’d let stubble grow past the point of five o’clock shadow. Black hair was void of pigment. It was cut to a length that would barely reach his eyes at the longest, shorter on the side with blue hues no longer hiding behind it. He wore the same furrowed resting scowl as always, aside from the semi-startled look he was giving her.
After a slow sweep around the site in observation, he was walking heel to toe with as much silence as he could muster on the surface that was set down for the walkways. His senses honed in carefully, trying to distinguish the noise of the city from what was closer to him. He could be wrong, it’d be trespassing he’d waste time explaining instead of following the next dead-end lead or the next suspicious police report... but how ironic that the place built around street lights and illumination shut off when it got too dark?
A rattle was heard, down the way. The clinking of metal as the signs touched no matter how still the place had been when he got there. A rush of air was heard, no matter how faint, standing out in the stagnant desert air he’d been baking in all day. An ear quivered. From the other side of the complex, he’d lowered his stance, hastily pulling a mag among other things from his belt as he looked both ways down the corridor… then he heard the snarl of a hiss, a feral sound he hadn’t yet forgotten and never would. Shit. Wait. That wasn’t it, was it? Were there two? Goddammit-
Before he could think to approach or raise a gun, the sweeping movement of the sign across the way caught his eye. The crash of it caused a flinch when he anticipated it, the signs on the other end of the walkway wavering but not quite toppling from the weight. Leaving sight of the Treasure Island skull that looked aimlessly up into the sky, he worked his way counterclockwise toward the entrance of the museum, keeping low and moving quickly. He heard the louder shriek echo in the signage museum’s walls and eased up his pace, the click of a 9mm likely lost in the ruckus of things… Just what the hell was going on, here?
He’d know in a second. He couldn’t dawdle with what he was hearing and they might seek him out by the time he got around to it. The demon took one steady breath and turned the corner, rising to his feet, hands grasping the firearm at eye level.
Pop- The sound of a shot taken echoed with the silencer doing its work, trying to mitigate the headache he might have once this was all over. The clock was ticking from the moment the sign fell. Had anyone else heard it? If only he knew the half of it. The bullet smashed into the grotesque creature’s shoulder, embedding and sending the shards of silver it was comprised of through the cold, dead flesh of the vampire. The figure shrieked, its grip on her likely to loosen as its arm went slack, staggering to try and re-assess the situation that had suddenly become a downhill battle.
In the meanwhile, the Hunter’s figure was still. He was cloaked in black for the occasion with the hood of a leather jacket pulled over his head, the cooler night air allowing for it compared to the day. He had the time for another shot, should he choose, but he stood sentinel-like over the one clear pathway after the sign had toppled. His target would have to climb out of the damn place if it tried for escape, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d be quicker. The gun was still raised, pressure on the trigger but he had frozen. He shouldn’t have; it was a risk in every way, but he was no less disoriented than the vampire scrambling to regain itself, with what he was seeing. No… No- It wasn’t. His head played cruel enough tricks when he was sleeping, now it seemed it was happening as he was awake... It was going to be a long night, from the looks of things.
Las Vegas, Nevada | Fremont St. Casino | 8:30 PM
It was damn hot out, even with the sun already down. In the least, it wasn’t the humid heat he’d left back in Georgia just weeks prior. It wasn’t Egypt either, he thought sourly toward the counter in front of him, but left it be. Around the man, the sound of casino machines was a constant as they enticed people to sit down, have a drink, and play a little longer. Fremont Street never closed down, the slots never stopped rolling. Jason sat among it at the casino’s bar, none too far from the entrance out into the street itself. For now, the rim of his glass was brought to his lips, a finger bending the straw to keep it at bay. As for the drink, it was a potent amber color served on the rocks, and easily not his first of the night. Whiskey. You guessed it.
A lot of noise, that’s all it was. Once he had a call for the next job he just might be out of there anyway. It had been a couple of years since he’d started Hunting now, if not more. One year out from his training where he had turned his trajectory around completely, for better or worse. Six months down from his last death where he wasn’t bound to talk about it. Three days down from his last completed hunt, among Nevada’s deserts in a small town plagued by… vampires?
Another drink was taken and he raised a hand toward the bartender for a refill. He’d gone over it in his head since he finished off his work. What was a small town outside of Vegas doing with one of the species he knew abhorred the sun more than any other? No Vampire would want the casino-state as their hunting ground unless it were a stepping stone.
Or something brought them to it. Speaking of hunting, Jason felt a vibration in his pocket as his phone went off. He pulled it out and opened a message, nearly making the bartender ready to hand a drink over, flinch. “Are you shitting me-?” The man muttered a bit too sharply. He looked up from the phone to the bartender’s startled face and murmured an apology afterwards, pulling a bill from his wallet to pay. It was his last drink for the night from the looks of it.
-/-
Old Las Vegas | N 9th St ⇒ Neon Boneyard | 12:30AM
One hour to get sobered, another couple to get ready, do some investigation, and find out where he was headed exactly. He had a location for the past incident or so and the map in his mind of what surrounded it… It was a residential area. Flat as-can-be with little grass to be had in the front lawns. He walked down the sidewalk at an even pace, his hood was drawn over his head as it always had been. But it was Vegas, after all. The city was drawn to and expected its strange views far more than East Coast. Up ahead, as he stared off toward something looming over the fencelines, he had a hunch. It would either waste his time, get him incarcerated, or have him killed. Well, if it was the third, then at least he would know he was right.
Come night, the museum’s outdoor yard was lit dimly by spotlights to each exhibit for whatever safety or surveillance reasons, the signs themselves turned off when the main building had closed an hour prior. They appeared as silhouetted and frames rising tall above the visitors… speaking of which, with an easy climb and a careful maneuver over the spiked fences of the neon museum’s perimeter, he was in. His boots touched the gravel walkway on the other side, hollow sockets doing a sweep of his surroundings before he started walking.
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