6635/Control

Control
Date of Scene:	20 June 2021
Location:	Moscow, Russia
Synopsis:	In June of 2017, Blade and Sharon follow a lead to a makeshift club in the Bloc; they stumble onto a drug den where a vampire was being bled and starved.
Cast of Characters:	Sharon Carter, Eric Brooks

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Sharon Carter has posed:
MOSCOW, RUSSIA - 2017:

A week after arriving into Moscow; Sharon had settled in well. She started off small, gaining a friend through her work at a coffee shop, gaining another job which was bartending -right- after the shift at the shop that only lasted five hours. From six to eleven. It was there that she worked until 8pm, when the nightlife was well under way especially in these summer months where she was instructed to get friendly. Know the people. Report back to her handler when he calls.

Life as normal, as Anna.

Sharon (Anna) settles in upon a park bench; but this was no ordinary location. She was scoping out suspicious activity in the bloc; a group of high rise apartments where one did manage to carve out a few walls to make a little 'club'. Drug activity no less. But rumor had it, most people didn't see the light of day after they went in.

Given what happened last week; Sharon had her thoughts about this.

Sharon was also sure that a certain someone, if he was still on this side of the pond, possibly heard the exact same thing that she did. He had her interested. And usually, that was a dangerous thing.

Eric Brooks has posed:
It's true, Blade heard the same rumors and the same whispers.  He's stuck around in Russia with no better plan than to take in a few sights, kill a few evil things, and maybe pick up some regional weaponry.  For him, an intercontinental trip usually involves an uncomfortable ride in the hold of a very slow ship.  It behooves him to make good use of his time before finding passage back home.

He's also chosen a parkside perch.  His is at the base of a weatherbeaten statue, where he's settled on the stone with a tattered blanket pulled up and over his head.  Peeps of leather and silver can still be seen through a few of the holes in the wool.  He's little too sleek to look homeless for anything but a cursory inspection.

He's not exactly a master of disguise. 

The hunter has been observing for several hours when he pauses halfway through shifting to a more comfortable position.  Quickly, he pulls in a deep breath and tastes the air.  Something that almost looks like a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he smells something familiar.  It doesn't take long for him to spot Anna in her newly taken seat.  Quietly, pitched only for her ears, he whistles, then he lifts two fingers in a discreet wave.

Sharon Carter has posed:
Anna (Sharon) leans to the side now, one leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing idly all the while keeping the sights in hand. A group of people enter into the 'club'; a trail of smoke flowing from the open door which soon closes shut. Sharon (Anna) was about to get ready to head inside until she hears a little whistle. Her eyes lift, wander.. seeing the two fingered wave which was met with a smirk.

Standing from her spot, she reaches into her back pocket to pull out some change, bending to swipe up an old, paper cup that was littered upon the ground to dump the change in. "Spare change?" She asks as she approaches, bending to place the cup down with a follow-through of a crouch.

Eric Brooks has posed:
While he's usually not much for company, Blade is willing to admit to himself that this young woman is formidable.  Seems like a good enough reason to make an exception. 

When Anna approaches, he lifts his chin just high enough to meet her gaze.  For once he's not wearing sunglasses (they were reflecting the light from street lamps).  His eyes are surprisingly warm when he's not glaring. 

"Funny how we keep showing up at the same places," he observes as he covers the cup with a gloved hand.  He acknowledges her helping him sell his performance with a small nod.  "Makes a guy pretty curious.  It's usually not a good sign when I bump into the same dangerous woman more than once."

Sharon Carter has posed:
Sharon adjusts herself as she becomes comfortable in her crouched position; now appearing to engage in a heartfelt conversation with a homeless person. "Not funny at all." Anna admits. Her accent was decent, but she wasn't forcing it this time. Their meet was deliberate, at least on -her- behalf.

"If you are wondering if I am anything like those creatures from the other night. I am not." Sharon assures. "I am curious though, as I've never really seen one nor imagined they were real before a week ago." She looks on to the makeshift club, then stands, taking in a deep inhale.

He could probably smell it on her, silver and gunpowder. She came armed to the nines even though she's dressed to .. well, go to class or something. Jeans. T-Shirt. Jean jacket. Nearly 80's retro.

"And I'm not that dangerous." She looks like some regular ass housewife.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Uh huh."  There's that almost-smile again.  Apparently, Blade's capable of being amused after all.  He jingles the coins in the cup, then slowly hauls himself to his feet.  He remains leaned against the statue, which helps conceal a bit more of his incongruous underlayer. 

"If you were wondering if I was anything like those creatures from the other night, I am."  He grins, but it's toothy and mirthless compared to his previous expression.  He has the same canines as the monsters.  He moves like them.  There's a natural series of thoughts that might follow that realization, but they don't seem to concern him. 

"No, you're good.  You smell human."  Blade's eyes have returned to the converted apartment building.  He shifts his weight almost imperceptibly.  "So.  If you're here on purpose, what are you planning to do?  Because I was thinking I might go knock. Or, you know, kick the door in."

Sharon Carter has posed:
As he hauls himself to his feet and makes his confession, she -nearly- does something about it. But the fact that he was killing his own kind made her think that something inside him was damaged, and wasn't really going to touch on it at this moment.

"Uh huh." She says.

Looking back towards the 'club', she was already walking. Hands shoved into her pocket to retrieve an elastic band, which was placed into her mouth so that she could grip and roll her hair into a bun. Then secure.

"I'm going to knock. You can't get anywhere by busting down doors all like the kool aid man.." Now, her american accent shows. If he was one of them, truly, eventually she'd just have to get rid of him. What spies do on their own time is their business..

..sorta..

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Oh, this should be good."  Blade lets out a dry chuckle.  He approaches from a different angle; rather than arriving at the door beside Anna, he leans against the exterior wall and posts up about fifteen feet away. 

Quickly, he reaches under his jacket and draws his pistol, using the blanket to keep it hidden from sight as he chambers a round.  He tucks the weapon away again, but he doesn't snap his holster's strap back into place. 

Once he's finished with his preparations, he makes a sweeping 'after you' gesture with one arm. 

Sharon Carter has posed:
She glances behind herself just in time to see him give the 'after you' signal. With a little shrug, she moves to knock upon the metal door, which slides open to allow her entry. She looked like the rest of them, twenties something, bored. Looking for something to pass the time while waiting for the next thrill that could be found this night. Sharon didn't hesitate; she stepped into the 'club' as the door shut behind her with a loud clang.

It was immediate, the smell that hit her. Marijuana. Sharon didn't partake, no, but she knew that smell from anywhere from friends who did. She also smelled burnt paper, and another sickly sweet smell she couldn't put her finger on.

The club-house was like she imagined, all of the walls broken out, dimmed down lights with a few people here and there trading kisses with drugs upon their tongues. A few sat in the corner, smoking from bongs that had hazardous masks attached, while others were in the corner strung out. On dirty mattresses with their eyes glazed over.

Sharon kept her hands in her pockets as she slowly moved through, weaving this way and that, looking behind a divider for something untoward.

This was the reason why people show up and never come out. If they were seen outside of these doors, it was to only get money and return. There was no vampire menace, only drugs. And it was the sorriest sight she's ever seen.

Eric Brooks has posed:
As soon as she's out of sight, Blade casts off his blanket and leaps straight into the air, clearing the building's roof as easily as someone might hop a fence. 

He lands lightly on the balls of his feet and dusts off his jacket, then drops into a crouch.  There's a skylight, and while it's been blacked out with spray paint, there are more than enough patchy, blotchy sections for him to get a good look inside. 

At nothing.  At kids smoking pot.

"Damnit," he mutters.  "I could've been watching Law and Order in Russian."

Sharon Carter has posed:
Disappointment was there from Sharon as well. Her lips purse, then blows out the little bit of air she managed to keep inside with a flap of her lips. Her hand smacks along her face to rub, resting upon her lips as a man approaches her. From Blade's view, he could see the conversation, Sharon smiling, reaching out a hand for a lighter, which was taken as well as whatever substance that was. As she hands off the money, she disappears from sight.

The sound of the back door is heard screeching open as a few people begin to filter out. Those people? The ones who were laid out, slowly ambling away at a pace that they think is fast..

Soon after, the front door busts open. People begin running, even those who manned the place abandon ship. It was an odd sight, just one woman who cleared out what people could have been menacing and downright killers.

"Hey! Come in!" Sharon calls out.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade works his fingers around the edge of the skylight and gives it an experimental tug.  Not only is it hinged, it isn't even latched.  "Amateurs," he scoffs. 

Once he's got the window open, he drops down to floor and lets out a grumble.  "Looks like we both got fooled, unless there's something here that I'm not seeing." 

Just to be certain, he draws in a deep breath that causes him to wrinkle his nose.  "It's not even good weed," is his scornful observation.  "And this place stinks from end to end." A second sniff, this one more careful than the first.

Sharon Carter has posed:
Would Blade would smell is decay. A vampiric decay. Sharon would smell nothing. But she would see something upon the floor from where she stands; her swiping her feet against the sigil and kicking the rest of the debris out of the way. It was the same one that was back at the club, she just didn't realize it until she nearly stepped on someones hand.

"I don't think we were." Sharon says, tapping away at the sigil with her foot. "Do you remember seeing this?" She asks, turning back to look at him. "I remember seeing it twice, one on the way in and on the wall behind the bar."

Eric Brooks has posed:
Investigation and detective work aren't Blade's forte, but he's observant.  He nods when the symbol comes into view.  "Good eye," he offers.  "Now the question becomes... what does it mean?  Wait.  Hold on."

That deathly stench is what he'd been expecting, but at first it had been covered by the other various stinks and aromas.  He taps his nose to indicate that he's smelled something, then pulls his sidearm from its already loosened holster.  With his other hand, he draws a silver stake from a row of several that are stuck through loops on a bandolier-style rig across his chest. 

Sharon Carter has posed:
Sharon was about to speak until Blade catches something himself. As he taps his nose and points, Sharon nods and moves to follow behind him. She pulls her own sidearm from her back, her finger already switching the safety off, keeping her finger not on the trigger but to the side, near crouched and ready to move.

The smell was coming from underneath. The faint trail would lead them to the back of the room, and then down a flight of stairs. The door was at the end of the hall, which was only five feet, and left slightly ajar with no lock. Amateurs indeed.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade motions for Sharon to pause, then leans in until his lips are nearly touching her ear.  "Something's not right," he whispers.  "I can smell them.  I can smell *something*." 

When they reach the door he narrows his eyes suspiciously.  He takes a quick peek through the crack, but it isn't wide enough for him to see anything.  After a moment's consideration, he shrugs and thumbs off his weapon's safety.  Looks like he's going to get to kick a door in after all...

There's a quick glance back at Sharon, then an almost silent sigh.  Instead of smashing his way in, he presses the tip of his stake against the door and quietly pushes it open.

Sharon Carter has posed:
Of course, something wasn't right. When everyone fled from the building; that was what happened. Everyone fled, except for one. The decay of vampire.

And he was in such a sorry state, that even Sharon had to wince and look away.

The vampire remained strapped to the table, silver cuffs, lines running through him to drain him dry. But he was kept at the edge, fed a bag or two, which was clear from what was left discarded upon the table, made to replenish so that could be done all over again. The poor man was skin and bones, left delirious, the smell of human flesh.. Sharon's.. has his fangs extended as he slowly, and zombie like bites into the air.

"What.. the fuck.." Sharon happens to mutter, staring at the unbelievable scene.. and.. stepping right back out.

Eric Brooks has posed:
Blade hates vampires.  They're his enemy.  This is more than even he can stomach, though. For him, the stench is almost unbearable. "Cover the exit. I'll be right back." 

Unlike his partner, he does step inside, but with a singular purpose.  Putting whatever this is to an end.  He stops short of delivering a killing blow, though.  Instead, he peers at the pathetic creature and shakes his head. 

"Who did this to you, you sorry son of a bitch?" he asks.  Based on his borderline rhetorical tone, he's not expecting a coherent response.  The question has to be asked, though.  Then comes the killing.

Sharon Carter has posed:
Sharon didn't bother looking back. The smell alone was enough to turn her stomach. In fact, when he gave her an out? She willingly took it. She took it by nearly running towards the exit to keep her back pressed against the wall, out of view and halfway up the stairs. She wanted to be resonably far away as possible.

The man, naked as he was remained on the table, unable to move. Whatever human he smelled was gone now, he barely even had the strength to keep his eyes open. Bone-like fingers scrape against the metal, legs move a little as if he were walking in a dream. In a state, he was. In between death, death and a tiny life.

"V..vv......aaadddd..." Is all the poor fellow could say, fingers still clenching. "k..k..kill... m..." There was nothing else, his throat was too raw from screaming and too dry from not drinking.

But Blade would get the hint.

Eric Brooks has posed:
"Okay," Blade replies, nodding solemnly.  "I've got you." 

It may be the only time he's ever shown a vampire some compassion.  Having been restrained, bled, and starved to a bestial state himself, he can sympathize. 

He dispatches the scrawny, tortured thing with a clean thrust of his stake.  As soon as the dust settles, he starts stripping the silver restraints from the table.  There's no time for subtlety, he uses brute force to snap them and yank them free.  They're tucked away into his pockets to be melted down and recast at a later date. 

"It's done," he confirms when he reaches the exit.  He looks tired.  Worn.  "He was too far gone to tell me anything.  Come on, let's get out of here."