It's not easy (PG-13)
Posted: Sat Jan 17, 2009 5:47 pm
This is a crossover, but I won’t tell you which one, as I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
This was written for the Moonlight Gala fanfic contest.
Disclaimer: Moonlight isn’t mine, and the other character isn’t either. I just play with them.
Mick St. John knew that he should probably have called for backup. But for starters, he was here on his own terms, so why should he bring someone else into this. And then he still wasn’t sure what to do once he found his prey, and how he would react. So he decided to run a low profile and try to talk it out before eventually making a move.
The old bottle green chevy he had rented was parked around the corner, a cooler with his secret food source stashed in the trunk. He shoved the gun deeper into his pocket and crossed the dark street. Cold drizzly rain on a Halloween night – could it get any more stereotype?
Shaking his duster to rid it from stray raindrops Mick opened the door to the dingy pub in a small street in Chicago. It was almost uncanny how cliché this place was. The bar consisted of battered, beer stained dark wood, the bar stools were old, and the patrons looked like they spent every night here. There was the obligatory juke box, the neon signs, the pool table, the bald bartender. Some sort of Country was playing, but almost drowned in the cacophony of voices and the clicking of glasses. A dishwasher was running in the adjoining kitchen. Stale smoke twirled its way towards the ceiling.
Every booth was occupied by groups of mostly bulky caucasian males, talking loud to each other in an accent that was decidedly different from the LA drawl he was used to. Every booth, except for one. The one he would sit in.
Mick ordered a whisky, paid for it and went over to the smallish man who sat alone in the farthest corner, near the window. He wore jeans and a brown corduroy jacket, zipped up to the chin. A baseball cap hiding his face, he sat huddled as if to avoid any human contact. There was not an ounce of dangerousness in the air, and still, he had managed to be left alone.
„May I sit here?“ Mick asked and did just that, without waiting for an answer, trying to act untouched by the obvious repulse of the other’s quick glance. Then he was ignored again.
He drank his whisky, slowly, scenting the air while he watched his counterpart from the corner of his eyes.
The man bumped his left leg on the floor, obviously oblivious to this habit, and gripped his almost empty beer glass hard enough to break it.
„Can I buy you another?“ Mick tried to break the silence, to get the other to react.
„I don’t think I should. Don’t want to lose control, you know.“
„So you tend to drink too much?“
„Just have kind of an anger management problem. Best leave it at that. You are not from here.“
„No. You aren’t local, either.“
„Still haven’t taken on the local accent. What do you want?“
„Why do you think I want something from you. Just want someone to talk to on a lonely night.“
„You are not someone I would expect to find in a bar like this.“
Mick gave a short laugh. „Look who’s talking.“
His opponent looked up. His eyes were dark blue and watched him closely with a haunted expression, like he didn’t have much sleep lately. His face was lean and edgy, with dark stubble. A hand grabbed Mick’s. Instinctively Mick pulled back.
„You don’t like to be touched, huh? Understandable, as your skin is cold as ice. Something wrong with you?“
Mick was startled, suddenly on red alert. He decided to play his cards. „Are you Bruce?“ he asked. „Cause then I’m searching for you.“
The man shrugged, but Mick could see the tension in his shoulders. „I am Bruce. And I have a knack for identifying strange people. You are definitely strange. What do you want?“
This man had attacking and defending down to an art form.
„I wanted to talk to you. Because we could have something in common.“
„You have an anger management problem, too?“ The man suddenly flashed his eyes at him, and they were bright neon green. Mick vamped out and hissed, his icy blue eyes staring his opponent down. He grabbed the other by the collar. Then both remembered where they were, and backed off.
„What are you?“ both whispered almost inaudibly towards each other.
„Let’s go outside for a talk.“ Bruce recommended.
They walked the cracked asphalt for a while, none of them talking.
Mick decided to take the plunge and open up first. „I’m a vampire. And you?“
„They call me the Hulk.“
„You are searching for a cure, aren’t you?“
„Yes. You know, it would be cool to be invincible once in a while, if I could control it. And if I didn’t need to keep it secret. The army hunts me. The love of my life fears me, and I don’t want to ever hurt her. How can a man live with that?“
„I can relate. That’s why I want a cure, too.“
„Is there a cure for vampirism?“
„There is. Mind you, only a few vamps know about it and it needs to stay that way. And, you know, as you’re a scientist and a doctor I hoped you could help me and I could help you.“
„How?“
„You are said to be an expert in all kind of odd blood deseases. Your condition is quite similar to mine, you know, anger is one of the four things that make me vamp out. So I guess you could have a handle on the cure.“
„I tried to cure myself, but as of now I didn’t find anything because I cannot stay in one place for long enough to really get into it.“
„That’s why I approached you today. I found a stash of the vampire cure that my ex left in a safe deposit box in L.A., but it’s such a small amount that it wouldn’t be enough to stay human for long. I wanna recreate it and find a way to make it permanent, but I need you to do the research. That’s why I used my savings to build a lab.“
„What’s in it for me?“
„In return I would protect you from discovery. I have friends in high places. And you would have the possibility to use the lab for your own intentions. Find a cure for your condition, too.“
Bruce nodded slowly, deliberating the offer. Then he shook hands with Mick and grinned tentatively.
„Sounds promising. Let’s go back and have another drink.“
They sat down in the same booth they left earlier and nursed another glass of liquor. Everything was said for the moment, and both kept silent.
Reminiscing about the troubles their life brought them, they felt a sudden connection. Each muttered into their respective drinks.
„Being a vampire sucks.“
„It’s not easy being green.“
They both looked up.
„Maybe we should go through town without hiding.“
„I would need to get really angry for that to happen.“
Both cracked a smile and then laughed out long and hard.
Life was good, especially on Halloween.
This was written for the Moonlight Gala fanfic contest.
Disclaimer: Moonlight isn’t mine, and the other character isn’t either. I just play with them.
Mick St. John knew that he should probably have called for backup. But for starters, he was here on his own terms, so why should he bring someone else into this. And then he still wasn’t sure what to do once he found his prey, and how he would react. So he decided to run a low profile and try to talk it out before eventually making a move.
The old bottle green chevy he had rented was parked around the corner, a cooler with his secret food source stashed in the trunk. He shoved the gun deeper into his pocket and crossed the dark street. Cold drizzly rain on a Halloween night – could it get any more stereotype?
Shaking his duster to rid it from stray raindrops Mick opened the door to the dingy pub in a small street in Chicago. It was almost uncanny how cliché this place was. The bar consisted of battered, beer stained dark wood, the bar stools were old, and the patrons looked like they spent every night here. There was the obligatory juke box, the neon signs, the pool table, the bald bartender. Some sort of Country was playing, but almost drowned in the cacophony of voices and the clicking of glasses. A dishwasher was running in the adjoining kitchen. Stale smoke twirled its way towards the ceiling.
Every booth was occupied by groups of mostly bulky caucasian males, talking loud to each other in an accent that was decidedly different from the LA drawl he was used to. Every booth, except for one. The one he would sit in.
Mick ordered a whisky, paid for it and went over to the smallish man who sat alone in the farthest corner, near the window. He wore jeans and a brown corduroy jacket, zipped up to the chin. A baseball cap hiding his face, he sat huddled as if to avoid any human contact. There was not an ounce of dangerousness in the air, and still, he had managed to be left alone.
„May I sit here?“ Mick asked and did just that, without waiting for an answer, trying to act untouched by the obvious repulse of the other’s quick glance. Then he was ignored again.
He drank his whisky, slowly, scenting the air while he watched his counterpart from the corner of his eyes.
The man bumped his left leg on the floor, obviously oblivious to this habit, and gripped his almost empty beer glass hard enough to break it.
„Can I buy you another?“ Mick tried to break the silence, to get the other to react.
„I don’t think I should. Don’t want to lose control, you know.“
„So you tend to drink too much?“
„Just have kind of an anger management problem. Best leave it at that. You are not from here.“
„No. You aren’t local, either.“
„Still haven’t taken on the local accent. What do you want?“
„Why do you think I want something from you. Just want someone to talk to on a lonely night.“
„You are not someone I would expect to find in a bar like this.“
Mick gave a short laugh. „Look who’s talking.“
His opponent looked up. His eyes were dark blue and watched him closely with a haunted expression, like he didn’t have much sleep lately. His face was lean and edgy, with dark stubble. A hand grabbed Mick’s. Instinctively Mick pulled back.
„You don’t like to be touched, huh? Understandable, as your skin is cold as ice. Something wrong with you?“
Mick was startled, suddenly on red alert. He decided to play his cards. „Are you Bruce?“ he asked. „Cause then I’m searching for you.“
The man shrugged, but Mick could see the tension in his shoulders. „I am Bruce. And I have a knack for identifying strange people. You are definitely strange. What do you want?“
This man had attacking and defending down to an art form.
„I wanted to talk to you. Because we could have something in common.“
„You have an anger management problem, too?“ The man suddenly flashed his eyes at him, and they were bright neon green. Mick vamped out and hissed, his icy blue eyes staring his opponent down. He grabbed the other by the collar. Then both remembered where they were, and backed off.
„What are you?“ both whispered almost inaudibly towards each other.
„Let’s go outside for a talk.“ Bruce recommended.
They walked the cracked asphalt for a while, none of them talking.
Mick decided to take the plunge and open up first. „I’m a vampire. And you?“
„They call me the Hulk.“
„You are searching for a cure, aren’t you?“
„Yes. You know, it would be cool to be invincible once in a while, if I could control it. And if I didn’t need to keep it secret. The army hunts me. The love of my life fears me, and I don’t want to ever hurt her. How can a man live with that?“
„I can relate. That’s why I want a cure, too.“
„Is there a cure for vampirism?“
„There is. Mind you, only a few vamps know about it and it needs to stay that way. And, you know, as you’re a scientist and a doctor I hoped you could help me and I could help you.“
„How?“
„You are said to be an expert in all kind of odd blood deseases. Your condition is quite similar to mine, you know, anger is one of the four things that make me vamp out. So I guess you could have a handle on the cure.“
„I tried to cure myself, but as of now I didn’t find anything because I cannot stay in one place for long enough to really get into it.“
„That’s why I approached you today. I found a stash of the vampire cure that my ex left in a safe deposit box in L.A., but it’s such a small amount that it wouldn’t be enough to stay human for long. I wanna recreate it and find a way to make it permanent, but I need you to do the research. That’s why I used my savings to build a lab.“
„What’s in it for me?“
„In return I would protect you from discovery. I have friends in high places. And you would have the possibility to use the lab for your own intentions. Find a cure for your condition, too.“
Bruce nodded slowly, deliberating the offer. Then he shook hands with Mick and grinned tentatively.
„Sounds promising. Let’s go back and have another drink.“
They sat down in the same booth they left earlier and nursed another glass of liquor. Everything was said for the moment, and both kept silent.
Reminiscing about the troubles their life brought them, they felt a sudden connection. Each muttered into their respective drinks.
„Being a vampire sucks.“
„It’s not easy being green.“
They both looked up.
„Maybe we should go through town without hiding.“
„I would need to get really angry for that to happen.“
Both cracked a smile and then laughed out long and hard.
Life was good, especially on Halloween.
I wonder if Bruce has made any headway on that cure....? 
