Heartthrob

When she awoke, she was in darkness. Around her the air was still, and close, and painful to breathe. It was cold in here, colder than almost anything she'd ever felt - shuffling herself around a bit she found this was because she was surrounded by ice chips, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, ice chips everywhere. She was also confronted with the uncomfortable reality that she was horizontal, rather than vertical - and moving.

Outside of her frosted prison, the amorphous darkness which she was engulfed by, muffled sounds could be heard. People's voices, footsteps, doors opening and closing...

What the fuck? Did Puri put me in a -

Her thoughts were interrupted by her body being set down with an unceremonious thump, onto something soft enough to bounce but firm enough to keep her laid out straight. God, she was fucking cold, and jostling the ice chips against her mostly-nude body was not helping. Her fingers began to ball into fists only to find that this was agonizing to do, to the point that she nearly cried out if her lungs and throat weren't so tired. Had she died? Had Purity killed her, somehow? Or maybe, that cat had... No. She refused to even believe it was real; its face was too humanlike, too alien for a cat, and every time she had seen it it had been a different size. But why was she seeing it in the first place?

The freezer bag she had been placed in was slowly unzipped, light pouring in like judgement from above. It scoured her pale form and scalded her sensitive eyes, forcing her down to a squint that could be confused with a blink; her arms weakly raised to defend herself and shield her face, but they pushed the ice away too slowly and meekly to be of real use. Warm air greeted her from the outside, and she welcomed it in a sense - if she was in trouble at least she wouldn't be in trouble and frigid, right?

A pair of silken hands reached down to take her beneath either shoulder, thumbs on the front, fingers running along her ribcage. She was lifted free of her icy prison with some effort and birthed into the light and warmth, taken high from her resting place and held there. Layers of cloth rush to swaddle her, and soon her sore and aching form is entombed in a comfy cocoon from the neck down. She is placed in a chair, sparse of cushion and hard of back, then pushed in to sit at a table (judging by the way it gently bops her padded chest, at least).

Esper James blinks, blink-blink-blink, the light overhead slowly dimming away as her eyes adjust. She's in a small room, a cozy looking kitchen, one that has certainly seen better days; it's like the back room of a family diner, the large flat-top grill in the corner sizzling away with something heavenly-smelling on its head. The mere scent drives EJ's blood to pound and her eyes to snap awake, the pain in her limbs numbing while her mouth waters - her tongue feels too big for her teeth, and her teeth feel too sharp for her tongue. Around the cheap plastic table with her were three other figures.

The first was Purity. She had been the one to lift EJ free of the freezer bag, and she was dressed as nicely as ever: a cashmere long coat, crimson with grey fur trim and lining, a matching grey beret, and brown chinos with fashionable snow-boots. Her hands were freed from the silken gloves she had been wearing, those now tucked into one of her pockets, hanging halfway free. When Puri saw EJ recognize her she smiled sweetly, reaching out a hand to pull the ghoulette and her chair closer so they could sit next to one another. EJ leaned on her shoulder without hesitation, welcoming the closeness.

The next was an older gentleman in a grey undershirt and arguably-white apron - it was layered with ancient stains to the point that 'tie-dye' was perhaps more accurate to it's true color. He had a look to him that could only be described as unscrupulous; the way he leered could strike fear into the heart like a driven stake, and his body - a muscled, slightly hunched physique that suited a dedicated layman rather than one who cultivated muscle for sport - held all the power to back up the intent of his gaze. He occasionally looked over towards the hunk of meat sizzling on the stove, but otherwise his eyes were locked on EJ, looking her over, inspecting her. His hair was balding and grey and his eyes a milky blue, skin pale and dotted with liver spots, but beneath elderly skin was muscle aplenty.

The final member of their dining party was another man, tall and thin, with black-rimmed glasses to match a black suit, black pants, and black tie. He looked as out-of-place as Purity did, but in a different way: he was the only one of the four whose eyes gently shimmered in that most sanguine of ways. He had the air of a lawyer, or a salesman, or an executive - the constant atmosphere of superiority, but in a way that lent itself to accommodating the less fortunate if only for his own amusement. He smiled sarcastically at EJ as her eyes focused on him, his sleek ebon hair - nearly a bob, but too short to truly be described as such - almost hiding his emerald glare. His skin was pale but of an almond tone, his eyes intelligent and sharp compared to the other man's, and he was considerably younger as well. Knowing vampires, though, he could have been any age within reason.

"...EJ? Feeling good enough to talk? I want to introduce you to some people? You, uh... You went a little berserk on me earlier. I think you should meet my friends, if you're feeling up for it." Purity's words were syrup on pancakes, soothe on a wound, and they took the blonde a few steps out of her previous agitated state. The meat still smelled good, and her stomach was growling like a starved lion, but Purity gave her something to cling to - something to focus on other than her sudden hunger. She nodded, looking up at the pink-haired chaperone before returning her focus to the strange men across from her.

"Yeah. I'm... Feeling better. Good enough." Esper James' body may not have ached much at this point, but her words came slow and uneasily, as if she wasn't used to speaking. Her eyes went first to the man dressed as a cook, Purity's left hand moving to indicate him as she spoke.

"This is Kristoff. He's a chef, lived here almost all his life. I've known him for at least eight years at this point - my dad knew him from the service, though obviously it wasn't... Kristoff's not like that anymore. He cooks now. Kristoff?" She raised a brow and gave her outstretched hand a gentle movement, gesturing for him to continue. He scoffed in response, leaning forwards on crossed arms and looming over the swaddled ghoulette.

"Pfah. Purity, I can introduce myself without you beckoning me like a dog, you know? I'm only sixty, no need to treat me this way." He cast her a quick glance while he said this, but in response she simply shrugged and smiled, allowing him to start again. "Anyways... Yes. Kristoff will be fine. Purity tells me you are one of her little girlfriends, eh? I can't say her father would approve, but nowadays he and I don't see eye to eye, so I guess I don't care. I'll tell you this, though, little girl - if you fuck with her I will find you. Ok? Ok. Perfect."

Perfect indeed. EJ could only nod, soaking up information like a girl-shaped sponge, drinking in all the implications and ideas she was being presented. One of her little girlfriends? And her father? Sure, of course, Puri had to have a biological father - someone who sired her, at least. That's how reproduction worked. But she had never mentioned her parents, or any of her family, in the past - and suddenly she's introducing EJ to a family friend? Weird.

Purity nodded, smiling still, before leaning down and kissing EJ on the cheek. It was equal parts keeping her awake and showing EJ some affection, leaving behind a thin pink imprint of the pinkette's lipstick lines. She then gestured to the other man, the one in black, who gave an effete little wave with a leather-clad hand.

"This is Alex. He's... more complicated. Friend of mine. We met at work one day and really hit it off, and I trust him a lot. He works at Tsang, just like you." Just like all of us, Purity couldn't help but think, but held her tongue - now wasn't the time for that.

Alex inclined his head, reaching a hand out to shake in jest; he pantomimed grasping the air between them and giving it a shake as if EJ's hand could actually meet his, that condescending grin of his never leaving his face. As he pulled his hand away EJ could see it twitch for just a moment, a quick spasm of the fingers and palm; he quickly tucked is down beneath the table, now leaning on his opposite elbow.

"Hello, new friend! Name's Alex C., nice to meet you. I'm a manager over on the other side of town, at one of Tsang's IRE sites - the one down on Thatchwood road. Ever been there? No, no, of course not - sorry, I know you're a bit fucked right now, don't worry about answering. Anyways, it's great to meet another Tsang rep in a crowd like this. All my coworkers are... Well, they're lame, hahaha!"

Something about him was as plastic as a cereal box prize, but there was something genuine laying beneath the surface, prowling like a shark beneath calm waters. Even his laugh was disconcerting, and his teeth weren't quite that of normal vampires - too sharp, too thin, at least by public perception.

EJ's brain sluggishly brought up everything she could recall about IRE sites, everything she could think of from her years of toil for Tsang. IRE sites stood for Incarceration, Rehabilitation, and Evaluation sites; that is, they were for-profit prisons, run by Tsang so that the UNAC didn't need to posit any in the vicinity of Vitus. They focused heavily on redemption through labor; prisoners were outsourced to industry all around town, usually with compliance training and peripherals to ensure they didn't commit crimes while on the job. Lots of human rights protestors loved to sit outside IRE sites with signs and bullhorns, shouting about how it was no better than slavery, and how the devices and methodology they used to 'rehabilitate' prisoners were unusually cruel and experimental, but little reform was ever made due to Tsang's monopoly of the local prison system. Many of those same protestors would find themselves inside IRE sites within only a year or two of speaking their minds, anyways.

She nodded in response to Alex, snapped back to reality by Purity giving her a gentle shake. Words came from her after some further effort, her throat dry and her lungs feeling sluggish and heavy. "Thanks... It's nice meeting both of you. I'm EJ, but I guess Puri told you that. Are we just having lunch...?"

Silence hung in the air for a few moments as EJ looked to Kristoff, then to Alex, then to Purity, the eyes of the men following hers to gaze at the pinkette. Puri simply smiled, a bit awkwardly, and gestured to Kristoff. "Uhhh... Why don't you explain, head chef? You're better at this part than I am..."

Now it was Kristoff's turn to laugh - unlike Alex, Kristoff seemed to melt down into something friendlier when the mirth took him, some of his previous grit-and-gruff attitude sliced free and left to fall to the floor. He stood, pushing the cheap metal chair away with the force of his movement, his feet padding towards the stove with the iconic slap-slap-slap of economy flip-flops. An ancient-looking spatula was used to flip the hunk of meat and poke it a few times, letting some excess juice run free.

"We? No, little girl, you are having lunch. See, you did something dumb, but something every zombie, ghoul, vampire, and expie does in their un-life: you've been skipping out on your meds. Two days, maybe three, maybe even four; you think it can't hurt, but then the withdrawals set in. Withdrawals, and symptoms." He took the meat from the stove-top with the spatula and unceremoniously slapped it into a wooden cutting board that seemed as old and stained as he was, its surface marred with cuts and scratches that had been long since worn down to become a part of the wood. A thin meat knife was produced from the pocket of his apron, that hunk of flesh beginning to be trimmed down into easily consumed pieces.

"Your body has been running all your funny life with these drugs in you, these chemicals, replicating what your engineered metabolism has been forced to crave - and now, without the drugs, you're a catastrophe. Now, Purity can't buy you any Fix, and me and Alex, well... We think there's a different way to keep those symptoms down. Something more..." He set the knife down as the meat was finished, sliced into warm slivers, the outside browned but the inside a lovely shade of red and pink. It took 'rare' to the absolute edge. He sprinkled it with salt and garlic powder and black pepper, a simple, easy mix of seasonings that would let the meat itself shine. A glass of bottom-shelf vodka was produced and poured up to halfway in a whisky glass, rocks added, then orange juice dumped liberally over the top.

"...natural. Better for you. Better for your health, and your brain. You see, Esper James, despite what they tell you, not everyone in Vitus comes back to life. Some people die and stay dead - it's got to do with your brain and your nerves, if they're compatible with the process. Not everyone is, and the people that aren't, they get dumped. Tsang owns the morgues, and the dumping grounds for the truly dead, and what do you think happens to those bodies in a city full of cannibals?" The plate of meat and crude Screwdriver were set before her, with Purity going to take a pair of chopsticks and pick up the first sliver of red-meat sashimi.

Esper James' eyes were glazed over by now, the scent of it driving her wild, but the origin throwing her mind into a loop of revulsion. The room felt like it was spinning around her, Kristoff's purposeful omission only tightening the knot in her gut until it felt like she was going to implode. Her tongue couldn't sit still; she rubbed it against her fangs till it bled and then some, slicing her up just like the mystery meat that sat on the place before her. The smell was divine, savory and succulent and fresh from the grill, hints of those spare spices underlining an aroma that could drive an angel to sin. She could feel herself losing her grip, her mouth opening of its own accord, beads of sweat forming at her hairline.

She shouldn't. It was wrong. It was... It was a lot of things, none of them good.

But before she could stop herself, her lips were parted just enough that Purity could snake that sliver of meat between them; as soon as the rich, bloody taste of it permeated her maw, EJ knew it was over.