Got A Light?

Cast: date: '13 September, 2012'
place: 'St. James''s '
participants: 'Huruma, Imogen, Jack, Teresa, Tucker'
synopsis: 'Two vampires looking to score find more than they bargained for.'
log: "\n\nClose to midnight, there is still quite a lot of foot traffic out on Haymarket Street. Finely dressed men and women who still gussy up to go to the theatre spill out of the old, grand buildings chattering about whatever play they just saw; to their dismay, denim- and sneaker-clad students, tourists, or just tragically unchic people come out of the same venues. The taxi lines are full and there are not enough cabs tonight. It will be a good hour before the lines die down, unless those people give up and take the Underground. \n\nThe clouds above hide what little moon there is, and the air bites with the promise of a cold autumn that's close on the heels of what little summer London sees. On such a night, even an elegant neighborhood like St. James's can seem menacing, especially to those who know what lurks in the shadows in alleys and less-lit streets.\n\nSauntering down the street as though he owns it, Jack ignores the looks from the posh folk. He's working class and quite comfortable with that designation. It means he's not spending exuberant amounts on theatre tickets and isn't getting pestered by men in their slippers, talking quickly and promising a quick, safe cab ride in the back of a worn down Vauxhall. Black cabs, people. Stick to them.\n\nThe east ender looks far more comfortable at night, unhooded and relaxed. In his mind, there's just as much potential for Doom and Gloom during the day, so he may as well make the most of this time, his time. It's a long way from home, but something's brought him out this way. Always people to see, things to do, contacts to keep fresh. Sometimes it's helpful to know people who work in theatre. Somewhere along the way, he's picked up a bag of chips, the grease coating his fingers as he picks at them.\n\nA theatre's side exit door is pushed open, and Tucker emerges from it and onto the street; perhaps he's got a secret love of live shows? Nobody else is coming out, though, so he must be leaving early. Or late. There's a bag of popcorn cradled in one hand, and he pauses just outside the place on the block to gather a handful of buttered kernels, tossing the whole fist of the treats back and crunching loudly.\n\nTeresa is one of those tragically unchic individuals, with her denim, an army green jacket over white shirt, flat boots and a very boring and long scarf wrapped loosely around her neck, curly hair barely tamed by an elastic. Her phone is out, thumb sliding and tapping at the screen, using up more of her allotted bandwidth on her phone. She won't need to worry about the taxi vrs tube, her motorbike is parked somewhere if the helmet attached around the strap of her purse is any indication. Dinner out, alone, some place indian - or so says the writing on the side of the bag.\n\nA cigarette hangs from Imogen's lips as she walks down the street toward the Underground and her hand cups a lit match. Some people can't walk and chew gum. But when a nicotine fix is in jeopardy, Imogen's coordination is top notch. However, it means not paying much attention to the people around her, or particularly to where she's going. Good thing she's not in a hurry to get anywhere.\n\nGetting around has proven to be more strenuous than Huruma originally planned. She was not able to bring much of anything from home- not that London would have welcomed a bike that spat smoke out the back. Or noticed it, for that matter. She's had to make do with the Tube or walking- she tried a bicycle, though somehow she found it just as crowded as the underground. The whole thing down there makes her want to strangle London civilians. \n\nGood thing she hasn't. So far. \n\nOut of stubborn will, Huruma has been walking or catching cabs if she has the cash; living at a safehouse saves her some, but that too is becoming something to grind her gears. It's not personal. Probably. Leaning her way up out of one of those black cabs and onto the curb, the couple trying to duck in after she gets out is recipient of a scathing little look for the impatience. It is hard to tell why she is out here in the middle of town; her leather jacket is more worn than fashionable, and while she wears the pants and boots well, she is in Teresa's boat- as in- currently outdated. That will hopefully change, provided there are jobs to be had.\n\n\"Got a light, luv?\" — all but purrs a man leaning in the shadows of a building as Imogen passes by; it appears to be a rather dapperly dressed man, though the accent is hardly posh. On closer inspection, should Imogen get close enough to see the colors in the shadows, the clothing's just a little gaudy — a sheen to the suit, eggplant tie on lavender shirt. \n\nFurther up the street, another man is asked the time by a woman — alone and wearing a little black dress with an emphasis on the little, though it's undoubtably designer, and when she takes a step closer to him, there's a flash of red soles on the bottom of her shoes. Her hair shields most of her face but she seems to smile coyly up at the man, then reaches to touch his wrist when he looks at the time. \n\nFlirtations among strangers are normal enough, but Tucker catches a glimpse of the corner reflected back at them in the shop window across the street. Where the woman should be in that hazy mirror image is a black winged thing.\n\nJack scrunches up the little hard bits from the chips in the paper, rolling the ball between hands until he's able to pass by a rubbish bin to deposit it. Conscientious. The post-food cigarette which he lights, standing adjacent, gives him some time to peer along the street at the sea of faces going past.\n\nOne, at least is familiar. Teresa. This prompts a flicker of an exasperated look. Last thing he needs is to be accused of stalking, particularly at this time. When he's not. For once. Pushing through the crowds, he snaps his finger at another familiar face - a cabbie - and there's a brief passing exchange, regarding work done on the man's cab. Then he's trying to move away from the hot headed woman. This results in him bumping in to Imogen, giving her a little side hip check. \"Come on now, darlin'.\" he opens, in a teasing tone that implies familiarity. \"You ain't so hard up that you need to pay for it yet, are you?\" There's a wink to Im, then a somewhat skeptical look at the geezer's apparel. \"Wotcha? Fancy meeting you here.\" This is to Imogen, although he keeps regarding the curiously attired fellow.\n\nAs it happens, Tucker was absently sizing up the woman in question. Hey, in that dress? He's going to look, even if the price-tag that's hovering invisibly next to it marks her as far out of his league. Another handful of popcorn was on its way to his mouth when he notices that reflection in the window, and he fumbles a few kernels, yellow-stained white fluff-corn tumbling down over his chest and landing at his feet.\n\n\"Ah, hell, on my night off, too,\" he grumbles, and then he stuffs the entire bag of popcorn in his mouth. At once. Including the bag. Glancing around guiltily for a moment— okay, nobody saw that, he's pretty sure— he starts to approach the pair at a casual pace, brushing salt from his hands.\n\nTeresa's ignorant of Jack, not so of tucker, eyes naturally drawn to the man by habit. That sense of different that others touched by the gloom offer up to the 'hot head'. Eyes shift up, take in the crisps and then in the direction of his gaze. She's not privy to a mirror, but she can sense, feel the gloom on LBD and slight annoyance. Another target of theirs? Another person they're looking over? She knows what the flash of red soles are usually indicative of. Laboutin, or reasonable facsimile of. And then he's moving forward and so is Teresa with a grown on her face. Path set to either come up behind Tucker or in line with him. More the latter. \"So I'm not the only one you watch?\" Voice kept low enough for only him to hear.\n\n\"Sure, mate,\" Imogen says, tossing the gaunt fellow her pack of matches. \"You look like you need a sandwich, as well.\" She smirks a little, but the bump into her has her all full of scowls. Whatever she might be ready to say, when the offender turns out to be Jack, he gets a smile instead. \"Why would I need to, when there's a whole corral of you lot to pick from,\" she says playfully. \"Fancy's the word, too. What brings you out this way?\" And while she sounds casual, there's a bit of a paranoid look about.\n\nRecognizing faces comes easily enough when you see them more and more; still, Huruma does not immediately recognize all the Watch members she has come into contact with. The distinguished ones, perhaps. Whether or not it is one way, or the other, as she passes up onto the walk, is hard to tell. Her gaze passes over faces and bodies, and even she is not above taking a closer look at some of the well-dressed. \n\nIn particular, she seems to be keeping her attention on the same woman Tucker was so keen on, save from the other side of things. The thing is, she does not pry as much as the Londoners seem to- even taking a moment to peel her eyes away and start reading numbers on buildings.\n\n\"I could use a bite to eat. Interested?\" the languid man says, lips curving into a smile. Everything seems slow, yet his hand comes up and out of his pocket to catch those matches much faster than it should have been able to. And his eyes never left Imogen's. \n\nHe looks irritated when Jack comes closer, and pushes off the wall to move his long-boned form toward the corner. In the light, he's pale even by London standards, and thin — but there's a smoothness about his motions that does not come with being ill. Dark eyes slide along the crowd, falling on people here and there. Appraising. Calculating. \n\nAt the corner, oblivious to the fact she's being watched, the petite woman in the four-inch heels cups a hand around her new friend's ear to whisper some sweet nothing. He grins and lets her take his hand, moving away from the taxi lines and down the smaller side street. \n\nTaking a slow pull on the cigarette, Jack studies the man more intently, giving him some scrutiny. \"Well. Your modesty is right proper alluring. I do have a weak spot for humble birds, be honest withya.\" All class, he clears his throat, spitting off to the side onto the pavement; it's near to the long man but far enough away to avoid accidentally hitting him. It seems to mean something, given the Significant look he casts in Imogen's direction.\n\n\"Don't reackon she is mate.\" he answers for the woman, flashing a wide toothy smile. Slipping an arm to Imogen's back, his fingers pitter patter in a manner that might be a warning against the small of her back. \"I fancy some pizza, myself. Loves a bit of garlic bread, I do.\" There's a slight emphasis on the word garlic. Oh, so slight.\n\n\"Murdoch,\" is Tucker's murmured greeting after a brief, bemused look her way, \"And I don't exactly watch you, except when you're doing your laundry, because my fire insurance isn't that good.\" A hint of dry humor, but she might notice the hint of tension in his voice as he walks along, \"Want to play along for a minute?\"\n\nAn arm's offered, in chivalrous fashion, even as he moves to follow the other 'couple' down the side street.\n\n Har har. Fire insurance. She's puzzled though, looks like she just might not want to play along. But there's a brief nod and she's slipping her arm into his. \"Promise I'll try not to make you extra crispy and just original…\" She doesn't press close though, making sure there's at least a polite distance between the two but no too far that it's not believable that they are together. \"It was an accident, by the way. It wasn't purposeful and I resent that you think it might be\"\n\nPale eyes dropping back down to the street, Huruma's watchfulness follows the woman- winged thing, may be a better term- and her motions with the man alongside. Then comes Tucker- a face that rings, if barely- and Teresa with him, one that doesn't. The shapes in between reflections and flesh make this quite peculiar. Is this a party(she wasn't invited to)? \n\nDipping her chin and swaying onto a path that will take her after the two pairs, Huruma keeps a safe enough distance from Tucker and Teresa- yet if either were to look back, her tall silhouette languishes there behind them; all lean limbs, smooth head, and darkened features.\n\nThe man with the purple tie falls in step with a girl on a cell phone — he's apparently her type, because as he smiles at her, she tells whoever's on the other line, \"Call you back!\" and turns to bestow a bright grin on the stranger. \"You need a ride? This line's a bit long, and I've got a car just down the block, here,\" he murmurs. \n\nWith their lead, the woman and her new friend have disappeared from view down a dark alley off that smaller, more isolated street. They've only been out of Tucker and Teresa's sight for about a minute when the cry comes — terrified, it is the kind of scream that sends shivers down spines and lifts hair from the nape of the neck. There's no confusing the real thing from that heard on a horror film; anyone who's heard the real thing can tell the difference.\n\nPurple tie comes across a new victim, which on the one hand, saves Imogen from being lunch. On the other hand, puts a different innocent in danger. Staying in the well lit street, Jack leans in while blowing smoke off to the side to murmer quietly to Imogen, \"If needs be, there's a gun at my back. Just reach into my jacket. Look lively.\"\n\nThe cigarette gets rolled back with the tip of his index finger along his thumb, until it's at a point where he can flick it toward the man's back, \"Oi. Watch out love, that geezers a fuckin' peado. He tried t'hit on my 13 year old sister. Fuckin' disgustin'.\" Well. You can't really shout a warning on a busy street about someone being a vampire. Can you? The mechanic is peering off along the street, to see if there's any other parts of the nest around. There's a glimpse again of Tersa with Tucker, moving into an alleyway. That prompts the heel of his hand to meet his forehead.\n\nThere's no attempt made to get any closer to Teresa; Tucker keeps that polite distance between them. Maybe it's a first date, or something like that, to observers. He's just about to say something, turning his head towards her, and then— that scream, primal and terrible.\n\nThe linked arms are dropped— after a brief awkwardness of quick movement— and then he's breaking into a dead sprint towards the sound of the cry.\n\nTeresa's not paying attention to Huruma and her lurking because she has no reason to really look behind her. Just to the front and where the LBD and her amour have taken off too. Then something happens and She, like Tucker, has heard the scream. Just as sure as he's making a break for it so is she as boots slap on pavement and keep pace with the never ending stomach ahead, fists closed tight lest she break out in flame unwarranted\n\n\"Thanks,\" Imogen says, and while the need might not be just yet, she reaches over to take the gun from his jacket and slip it under hers instead. \"Just run a safe house, they said,\" she mutters to herself, but sticks close to Jack, just in case there are more than just the one around.\n\nAnd given the facepalming from her companion, she imagines there is. But she is glad enough to let Jack take the lead.\n\nThat's why they have backup, even though she slips in between cracks as she does. \n\nHuruma's eyes steel across as the scream comes; catching up to the duo ahead of her will be no problem once she starts into a sprint, the residuals of a throaty growl in her mouth. Something to be had, and she is not going to miss it. Life has been too calm, otherwise.\n\n\"Wanker,\" the purple-tied man tosses over his shoulder at Jack, but it's too late, the damage is done. The girl backs away, then darts to a cab as a group of other girls get in — apparently the rest of her group. \n\nTucker is the first to round the corner of the alley, though Teresa's close on his heels. Partially obscured by the shadows, the woman has the man pressed up against the brick wall; her petite hands have his arms pinned, and it's clear that she's stronger by him by far. The sound of footfalls catches her attention, and she turns to look over her shoulder. Her eyes glint like a dog's in the faint light there is, and her mouth and throat are covered with blood. \n\nCasting aside her victim, he falls, listless, onto the damp, cold floor of the alley, clutching his own neck. At least he's alive. If only just. \n\nThe small woman, no more than 5'4\" in her four-inch heels, seems larger in the alley somehow — there's an aura of power that seems to seep off of her that simply wasn't there before. \"This doesn't concern you,\" she growls out, the voice low and guttural.\n\n\"Go fuck yourself.\" Jack returns, jovially with a look of smug satisfaction. A nudge to Imogen suggests the change course, heading toward the alleyway where there's a party happening.\n\n\"Maybe we'll go for stake, instead. What'd you reackon?\" It's a rhetorical question for his companion, but also perhaps an invite for purple tie to put up or shut up. There is a certain spring in his step as he moves toward the alleyway. No doubt the man has some frustrations he'd like to get out, likely involving beating a vampire or two to death with a blunt impliment.\n\nWhen they come upon the scene, Tucker's brisk run slows to a trot and then to a steady if unhurried stroll. \"'Fraid it is, luv,\" he replies, spreading his hands to either side, \"Might have to take you in. Ask you a few questions down at the station, you know, that sort've thing. Dot all the is, cross all the ts…\"\n\nA broad grin. It's a little too broad, really, than it should be, than it could be, revealing the white of teeth from nearly ear to ear, \"…I mean, you left your dinner right there on the ground. That's littering, it is, wot?\"\n\nShe's a Maneater. Watch out Tucker, here she comes. \n\nThat doesn't mean Huruma. Huruma who Teresa doesn't know is watch and presented with the blood drinker in front of her and Tucker's ever expanding gob, Teresa turns to look behind them at the black woman sprinting around the corner at them. Startlement means that she's swinging her bag and it's attached helmet at the imposing woman using it to distract even as in it's wake, comes a fist engulfed in flames for a follow through. \"Behind us!\" She calls out in warning. She's got it. It's all cool. Cool.\n\nCool as a cucumber. Or not. At and after are separated only by a fine line or two. The dark woman lets out a snarl of surprise, one hand latching onto the offending bag to yank Teresa off balance. The fist comes a whisker too close for comfort, meanwhile, as Huruma bends her spine back to avoid it. \n\n\"No.\" She hisses out, teeth sharp and voice even moreso. Still holding onto the bag and keeping it between Teresa and herself, Huruma was not entirely expecting being assaulted by something that wasn't the target. \"I am on your side, fool girl.\" Even as she is doing this and intending to avoid any more swings, Huruma is sidestepping to get closer to where Tuck and the creature have met.\n\nThe woman hisses, and while it's a quiet enough thing, like that aura of power, it seems much bigger, much louder, like it resonates and reverberates through the alley and up above their heads, an almost palpable, tangible thing. \n\nAnd then she launches herself at Tucker; her joints seem to be made of springs the way she moves through the air to pounce upon him; her mouth opens hellishly wide like some alien in a bad sci-fi show; inside gleam her bloody fangs that had been hidden by a carefully lipsticked pout before. \n\nAround the corner a blur speeds silently by, black and lavender and shiny, but too fast to be caught by Imogen at the head of the alley. Suddenly Jack is grabbed from behind and flung into the brick wall by the man in the purple tie. \"You cost me my dinner,\" he growls at Jack.\n\nWhee. Jack does indeed go flying straight toward the wall, the dirty stone ready to give him a warm welcome. After the gip he was giving out though, this is not unexpected. Just as there's about to be a very unhealthy smack of flesh meeting unyeilding surface, there's a little ripple and the mechanic is no longer there. Just shadows, seeming to move with the momentum and spread out across the bricks like a wash of black water that's gone as quickly as it arrived.\n\n\"Surprised any birds fall for that when you're wearing pink an' purple.\" he points out. It's not really pink. But it may as well be. \"Maybe if you go for the boys. I reackon there's plenty of theatre lovin' geezers around here. If you know what I mean. They' probably appreciate the aubergine more, like.\" The man's just getting warmed up. He's in the mood, apparently. As Imogen pointed out. Fella's got an urge to release some tension, or get beat. Or both. No longer entirely 'alone', the thick dark tendrils that writhe from within his jacket have obtained knives along the way. He may have given his gun away, but he's not entirely defenseless. While affecting the 'come get some more' posture, he cuts the briefest of glances to Tucker et al, to make sure they're doing okay.\n\nOf course, that was exactly the sort of reaction that Tucker was expecting — and, in fact, trying to elicit. He knows that he's not as fast as a vampire. So he has to get her to go where he wants her instead. He takes a step forward with one foot, the other knee bending slightly to brace him. Is he smiling? Well, a little more than that…\n\nThe hands alread spread out to the side lift up to try and catch her , his own jaw distending unnaturally wide, flesh stretching horrifically like a photograph's clumsy edit to reveal rows upon rows of grinding, vicious teeth. Vampires bite people. So does he. And he has more teeth to do it with.\n\nOh. \"Shit\" The black woman is with Tucker. And then there's Jack - best upon by the other man, Imogen hanging back at the alley. Teresa pulls away from Huruma though the flames that crawl and seethe around her hand and work up her arm don't shut off and she looks to Tucker and then to Jack, unsure of who to help since Tucker seems ready for a little follow up to the chips and Jack. \n\nWell, it's Jack. Can you blame her for hesitating? So she turns to Tucker, easing near, waiting for a moment when he might need help, pointing Huruma toward Jack/tentacles and his buddy.\n\nSome look out. The guy goes speeding by her and she turns too late to call out a warning. So Imogen growls a little and slips into the alley after the vampire. Jack may be pulling a Peter Pan, but Imogen has a gun. but instead of firing, since there is nothing that draws attention like gun fire, she swings the butt of it toward the purple tie'd vampire's head. At least for distraction.\n\nAs for the rest of the alley, a glance that way is met with a wince. It isn't pretty over there, not even a little.\n\nThe flames light up a rankled expression more befitting on animals, and Huruma lets go of the bag, finally able to get a better look at the assailant on Jack's case. Good thing she was still unengaged. Teresa gets an affirmative huff of air from the stranger before she folds back and heads toward the others. \n\nThe tips of her fingers unsheath long, curved claws up from the last knuckles, hands blackening at the palms. The alley is suddenly full of sharp, dangerous teeth, including her own. She lets up a deep, feline snarl- a warning, first, before she moves in.\n\nThe gun hits the male vampire, and while he staggers, the pistolwhipping doesn't fell him. He cackles at both Jack and Imogen — not noticing the cat-woman stalking him from behind just yet. \n\n\"I'm not picky, sweetheart, if you're offering, yeah?\" he says in that low, languid voice and with a wink to Jack. Without warning, however, he turns to grab Imogen, pulling her to him before those blades Jack wields can slice him. His mouth opens, showing those long fangs and he bends his head as if to kiss Imogen's neck. \"Careful, gov.\" \n\nDown further, the female sinks her teeth into Tucker's neck as they grapple, apparently hoping she can drain him before he can do … whatever it is he plans to with that sharkmouthful of teeth.\n\nJack affects The Sad Face. Oh, really Dr. Aubergine. You shouldn't have gone there. Tucker seems to be able to handle himself, plus he's got FireStar as backup so they're being mostly ignored right now. Huruma's approach is noted and then he plays along with being distraught at the idea. Oh, no. Please don't kiss the girl. Notably, he's not remaining still, moving from side to side like a restless Andy Murray awaiting a serve with one knife beind 'handed off' to a hand.\n\n\"Tell you what…\" he begins, about to make some opening bid in negociations. It is, of course, a cunning ruse. The next second where there should be an offer of supplication, there's empty air and threads of dusk falling about in the breeze. The man everyone loves to hate is suddenly behind the vampire again, although this time he's not playing with his food. Both tentacles whip forward; the one without the weapon aiming to coil about the creature's neck and pull him backwards. The other aiming to stab him in the kidney. Of course, the advantage of having multiple limbs is that Jack is also free to try and wrench the thing back with one hand while aiming a sharp kick at the side of a knee.\n\nThere is, of course, a spray of arterial blood across the woman's face as her teeth sink into Tucker's neck, because that's what happens when you plunge your teeth into flesh! A sharp hiss of pain's exhaled through his nostrils, but his fingers just dig further into the vampire's sides— and his head slams forward to close his jaws on her neck in return. Not to feed, or drink, but to bite, rip, tear, jerking his head like a dog would shake a bird that it'd just captured to try and snap its neck. Jaws bite, release, close again, immensely powerful jaws working to tear teeth deeper, going for vertebrae.\n\nDecapitation usually works against vampires, and it seems that Tucker's trying for it the hard way. He's losing plenty of blood himself, though!\n\n\"Hey! He's not a midnight snack\" Teresa bites off at the vampire as she moves forward while dragging out the little cross around her neck from where it was beneath the shirt. She has no clue whether it'll help, but she's hoping it will and if not, maybe the arm on fire, hands working to find purchase on the woman and make her rethink her dinner and do enough damage that she'll let go of Tucker. \"Go back to the hole you came from\" Voice wavering. This is not her purview, her area of expertise.\n\nImogen is no wilting catch, at least. Mostly out of abject fear of just what has a hold of her, she struggles and kicks and is generally a nuisance. Especially with fangs out. Nevermind that she's got some tears making tracks down her face. It's just her eyes sweating.\n\nIt is entirely possible she doesn't notice that Jack is coming after the guy, too, since she shouts his name once or twice during. Blame it on the panic.\n\n If it is any consolation, only one of them has seen her, and he is now making an effort to take one side; it's only natural that she go for the open one provided. Huruma zeroes in on the tangle, slipping into the fray like a snake. Claws search out the front side of the vampire's abdomen, ready to dig in and rip back; Jack's movements to try and pull the creature back will hopefully leave a tender opening somewhere between neck and chest- if it appears, her own teeth go for it, the other set of claws already making to dig into his shoulder. \n\nIt's somewhat of a free-for-all, at this point, though Huruma has faith in being able to work with what she is given.\n\nOutnumbered. Both vampires find themselves on the wrong side of a numbers game, after figuring the late night crowd getting out of the theatre would be too tired, fat or slow to put up with much of a fight. Tucker's rows of teeth grind away at flesh, bone and sinew — if the little mistress of the night has any retort for Teresa's comments, they're lost when nerves and/or vocal cords are severed. The head comes free — which is good news for Tucker, whose blood loss is starting to make itself known in the form of fatigue and a cold seeping through his extremities.\n\nBlood spurts from the knife wound in the vampire's back, and with that pull from Jack, he reels back, allowing Huruma to land on top of him. The lavender shirt is now a garish red as the teeth spill the thing's blood from neck and shoulder. \n\nThe vamp rolls with Huruma to try to dislodge her and escape, his supernatural strength evident in the fact he can move at all.\n\nAnother puff of black, that should surely have a sound effect attached to it. It doesn't, but watching it puts the feeling in the mind. While he was behind, as the vamp falls back, he pops into the space recently vacated with one tendril trailing behind to coil about a foot and yank, making sure Dr. Aubergine falls fully so Huruma can follow up.\n\n\"You're alright, darlin'. Move.\" Jack assures Imogen in his best mid-combat-soothing-tones. The last word is more an instruction than a suggestion, trying to get her out of the way. A little louder as he takes quick stock of the situation, \"Oi, Teresa. Flame on these cunts, is it?\" Fire. That always works. Given they're both currently somewhat pinned and distracted, it should be an easy move for her to run in and set their clothes ablaze.\n\nThe sickening crunch as those vertebrae give away echoes in the alley for a moment, Tucker's head jerking back as the vampire's movements cease — a spray of red spattering across the dirty concrete as he does so, a mouthful of tainted flesh tangled in his teeth. He chews slowly and swallows, scarlet spilling down his neck and shoulder. \"Bitch,\" he mutters, looking down at the headless corpse, and then he wavers a bit, one hand launching out to grab for the wall.\n\n\"Uh, sure\" Tossed back at Tuck as goes a little green seeing tucker eating that last little bit of the vampire and the body in her arms where she's caught the soon to be crispy fried woman, backing away from Tucker with it and letting the flames take over the whole of her and in turn the vampire. Which will burn, but Teresa won't. \n\nLet it be stated, she's doing something Jack asked without yelling at him or trays flying. Here's to hoping no one will be coming into the alley and seeing. \"Sit down Tucker. Put pressure on your neck\" Instructing her laundry technician what to do. She's oblivious that his snacking is actually beneficial to him.\n\nIt doesn't take much more than that one word instruction to get Imogen moving. Once she's free she stumbles back toward the mouth of the alley, gun shoved unceremoniously in a pocket while she pulls out another cigarette to replace the last one. She leans against the wall while she fumbles around for another box of matches to shakily light it.\n\nShe pointedly doesn't watch how the others handle what's left over of the vampires. Ignorance is bliss and all. Plus, she's too far to light her cigarette on Teresa anyway.\n\nIt's shame- they won't be able to mock the thing about 'what goes around, comes around', yet perhaps the irony isn't quite lost, when Huruma latches claws into his stomach as he shifts to roll them both- and she bites down into his throat. The claws in him have effectively shredded through clothing and skin, letting whatever is still inside to slide from him. Only when Huruma is reasonably sure of his weakness does she let go again, weighing him down. She spits a wad of saliva and his own blood into his face, disliking the taste in particular. \n\nShe can wait for a light, of course.\n\nUnder Huruma's weight and onslaught, the male vampire kicks and headbutts and even rakes at Huruma's neck with his own teeth, though he's only able to graze it. A normal man would be dead by now, but he still fights, if weakly. \n\nTeresa finds that the vampire's corpse burns readily, almost as easily as paper. The skin crackles as it turns to ash and begins to crumble away; as the fire eats through flesh, it slows a little, the bones and viscera not quite as ready to burn, though still remarkably quick — at least compared to what the same flame would do to a normal human. \n\nPopping just one more time to a corner of the alleyway, Jack believes the situation is in hand, apparently. Since he's following Imogen's suit and lighting up a cigarette. It helps give him the focus required to coerce his additional appendages into submission ready to vacate the scene. That and some time to deal with his own shadow, already rising up from the darkness of the secluded sidestreet and wrapping about his feet.\n\n\"You alright mate?\" he asks, of Tucker as he expells that first lungful. Free hand seeks out phone from his pocket; this weeks cheap burner. \"Florence 'ere'll take a look at you in a min, I'm sure. If you could give your pals in clean up a call though, to check this shit over. I'ma call an ambulance for this poor sod.\" A thumb is jerked toward the possibly dead man.\n\nWhile doing this, he makes the most of his no-light vision to check for any signs of witnesses in windows or unfortunately placed CCTV cameras. Seasoned pro, or just dead inside. The fact that there's people shaped things being set on fire and burning to death doesn't seem to phase him.\n\n\"M'fine, luv,\" Tucker muttersthere's a bit of a wet gurgle to ithis hand coming up to ward her off, stained red, \"Jus' gimme a minute with th'bitch. Gotta… get rid of 'em anyway, wot?\" Breathe, Tucker. Breathe. A turn to the— oh. Char. Blackened, twisted remains, the scent of fire in his nostrils. They flare irritably, and then he's waving his hand at the other one, \"Gimme that.\" No pressure put on the wound. Still bleeding freely, because he's a horrible patient.\n\n\"That's not fine…\" Teresa protests, dropping the female of the pair now that she's good and burned and doesn't need help to keep doing so. \"Hey now, what are yo-\" She steps forward as if she's going to stop him but the sight of flames licking off her, consuming oxygen has her back pedaling. Looking back down at the corpse turning to ash. A moment or three of concentration and with a soft pop like the flames being turned off in a gas BBQ, it's just Teresa. Not so smoking hot anymore. Instead of Tucker, she's heading to the original downed man that Jack is calling an ambulance for, checking to see if he's still alive, apply medical help if he still is.\n\nShaky fingers bring the cigarette to her lips and pull it away again, and Imogen glances down the alley with a furrowed brow. She seems to remember she was crying then, and her hand moves to wipe her cheeks. \"How do you boys wrap this sort of thing up, anyway? Do we just go home now?\" she asks, apparently not bothered by the fact that one of the Watch 'boys' is actually a woman.\n\n\"You don'like yours well done?\" Huruma's first words in this time of non-violence are playful, and her throaty laugh fills the back of the alley. As she lifts up onto her feet again, she drags the vampire along with her, back tracking those few paces with her arms around his torso. \"I even cut it up for you…\" In case it is too hard to swallow, yes? \n\nThe dark woman drops the vampire at Tucker's feet, wiping her face with normal, slender fingers, watching him half-expectantly before turning away. Good times.\n\nTeresa finds the man still has a pulse, if a bit thready, and he's unconscious, which is good news for the Watch. He'll make it, and they saved a life today, so there's a happy ending, for once. \n\nThere's not too much to clean thanks to the clean burn on one vampire, courtesy of Teresa, and Tucker's appetite and big mouth making sure that there are only negligible scraps for any stray cats and dogs that live in the alley. After a couple of minutes, the sirens can be heard from the nearby hospital, and the alley is cleared by the Watch (and company). Only the victim, now a survivor, remains.\n"
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