Open: Don't be scared we'll make it work

[tolife]

Who: Herbert West, Michael Morbius and others.
When: July 1st - July 31st
What: Both scientists getting settled in.
Where: Locations in starters
Warnings: Possibly some bad language, blood drinking in Michael's case.
Note: This will have multiple starter points and any warnings will update as needed.

Comments

Michael Morbius

[doesnotsparkle]

7/1 - 7/2 - Periwinkle Street - Floor Five

[doesnotsparkle]

Michael Morbius was never a fan of parties, but when one only had fifty bucks to their name and no means to hide their condition in a professional setting. Job prospects were low. So he had attended the party. The free food was great, but the bottled blood substitute was better. It eased the ever present hunger to where he felt safe being around people.

Sadly, he didn't know how long it would last, so when he left the party, he went and spent all fifty on the bottled blood. 10 bottles in all, pretty cheap for something so important, but he had been warned to get it on ice or in the fridge quickly and keep it cold. The black plastic bags were in hand, his sunglasses still on when he made his way up the stairs to his assigned apartment.

He was at the end of the floor, having to pass the other two, he could tell someone was inside as he could hear the heartbeats and smell the life of a proper human. He had never been so thankful for a substitute in his life. All the lives that might have been saved if this had been in his world...

----

The next morning when he awoke, laying face down on the bed, he felt the wave of exhaustion wash over him. True, he had only been asleep a few hours, but the sunshine just did that to him no matter the world he was in. He didn't bother buttoning up his shirt, or wearing his sunglasses. No, he went on out onto the fire escape, with just sleep pants and a glass of water. Leaning on the railing looking down at the city. He was so tired and wanted to go back to bed, but he knew he'd have to go out job hunting soon.

It could wait an hour or so, though. For now he needed to wake and make a game plan.

[breakfastattiffanys]

The morning after the party left Blair in a bit of a mood. Without money, without her things, she's grumpy and angry at the city. The morning light had at least made the loft look...acceptable for now. Coffee, coffee was how she could manage the day. She will have to find a job today. All the prospects make her cringe, but desperation is starting to grow.

Blair noticed the...stance of shame on the fire escape? Something like that. The guy looks hungover and disheveled, the sort that smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey. She gives a huff, clutching her coffee as she darts towards her loft, wishing she could ignore the prospects today and how far she's fallen.

[doesnotsparkle]

A hangover would have been so much better. A hangover was something Michael Morbius had not had in ages, he never drank that much, not that it could hurt him if he did. No, it was the sun touching him making him want to go back to bed, but he needed to be up. This new world wouldn't stop just because he was a living vampire. This was another chance at a clean slate.

Though, he heard her heart beating before looking off in her direction. Those red eyes, did no favors to his stark white skin and messy black hair. No, he didn't smell of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, but he was pretty messy today. He could have tried harder, but, why bother? Martine was dead, he was in another world and not looking to impress.

"Sorry, if I disturbed you." If the door or window was open, he didn't care, he stayed leaning where he was but spoke it as soon as he saw her. He had a Grecian accent, but it sounded as tired as he looked. The undead should be sleeping, but he wasn't undead.

[breakfastattiffanys]

Blair keeps one window open, if only to welcome the smells of flower and coffee shops nearby. It's a nice reminder of home, even if it's some small familiarity. The man's voice catches her attention, unsurprisingly, sounding tired and worn. He's not really helping the idea he's hungover.

Great, so who exactly is she stuck near?

"It's fine." She isn't as familiar with Greek accents, so it passes her notice. "You live here too, right?"

[doesnotsparkle]

It was those same smells, and the need to try to be awake if he could, that had drug Michael from bed. Hungover was a better idea than sleepy vampire to him. Not that he knew she suspected him of being hungover.

"Yeah, I live here in number three." he answered, as he shifted against the rail to look her way. Again, wishing he'd brought his sunglasses with him. "I'm Michael Morbius. You?" He asked curiously. Best to know those around you if you can.

Open: The Coliseum (July 7th and onward)

[doesnotsparkle]

This was not at all what Michael had been thinking when he had gone job hunting. He had been turned away at the hospital. Which was honestly to be expected. No one really wanted a vampire working on them, no matter how skilled. It just took one bout of hunger and Morbius could rip someone's throat out. No one wanted that. It had been the security worker who had stopped him and handed him a flyer for the Coliseum.

Was he embarrassed? Yes. Still, he needed money and it beat some of the other options. The Coliseum was less picky about his affliction and offered him both to work as a medic for the fighters who got hurt, and to be a fighter as well. Both would help him get by. Some fighters were demons, other humans, sometimes meta-humans or mutants. It was a far cry from what he wanted to be doing, but he's spent so many years since his accident fighting that it's become second nature.

----

Floating out from the left side, after being introduced simply as 'Morbius'. He never hid his name, which had always been an issue. Morbius was dressed in his suit from home. At first he was worried, but he hid it well. He just needed to win, and he could pay for his blood with ease for a few weeks. An addiction was a powerful thing, this he knew well, he had done terrible things in the past to feed his addiction in the past. This was at least an honest way to make a living.

When he wasn't fighting, he was in the back with a lab coat over his suit, stitching up and helping the fighters who came back harmed. Sometimes he had caused the harm, usually not but even bruised and hurt himself, he wanted to help.

Open: The Outlaw

[doesnotsparkle]

Later in the evenings once he was done working at The Coliseum he would head to The Outlaw. A few dollars spent on a drink and some cheap bar food. The sounds of all the hearts around him was annoying, but no worse than being in New York City.

This way of living was no worse than being in Brownsville, and at least he didn't have a huge target on his back anymore. So long as he kept his thirst at bay, and didn't kill anyone here, he could probably enjoy his tenders in peace.

[canaria]

Sara had thought to grab a quick drink this evening too, but when she sees the familiar face when she enters the bar, she has to slide over and sit next to him.

“Room for company?” It's her simple greeting with a smile that reaches her eyes to match.

[doesnotsparkle]

He heard her heart, and knew her scent when she entered. The living vampire had a nose like a bloodhound. Which did sadly have its drawbacks sometimes. The tender he had been holding was sat down when she took a seat next to him. Looking her way, forgetting his sunglasses were off today. His red glowing eyes fully visible. He smiled all the same.

"Always room for you, Sara. How are you doing? May I get you a drink?" He was doing a better working at the Coliseum, even if he had a large bruise on his cheek and the bit of his chest visible from the button up that had the top three buttons undone. His suit was in the bag by his leg. He never wore it outside of the Coliseum.

[canaria]

"Honestly, I'm.. still shaking off being disconcerted but I'll be okay. I just hate when my problems aren't ones I can punch in the face." She wants everything to be here how it was before, before it went to shit and then apparently now got kinda better. She's annoyed she can't go back in time and fix it, she misses quite a few friends, and so on.

"I'll drink whatever you are. And how have you been?" She almost finished there, but adds: "By the way, you should ditch the sunglasses more often."

[doesnotsparkle]

"I understand that quite well. Though, I am merely trying to keep busy, least I obsess on it." He knew how he could be, give him a project and the blinders go on. For now his project was keeping his need for blood handled lest he actually try to feed on someone here. "Punching an issue in the face at least has some catharsis." He used to be such a peaceful man too.

He motioned his pale hand up to get the bar tenders attention, ordering her one of the cheap beers he was drinking. Nothing fancy. Tonight wasn't a wine night. "I'm doing alright, I got a job, and I am settling in. It's not what I wanted, but I will get by. Yourself? How are you settling back in?"

[canaria]

"You look like a problem punched you in the face, speaking of. You ok?"

Cheap beer is best beer especially on nights like these. "Last time around, I was a chanteuse at a nightclub. May do that again. So I guess I'm getting there. What's your new job here?"

[doesnotsparkle]

"Oh yes, perfectly fine, it will heal by tomorrow." Most injuries just needed sleep or blood. Or a complete shut down a few moments, so he could sit back up.

It was certainly was, who required the classy stuff on nights like tonight? "A singer?" He asked, his English was almost always on point, but sometimes he needed to clarify he understood some words here and there. "Either way, why not try? As for myself, the hospital turned me away, so I'm working at the Coliseum. Mostly as a medic, but some nights." He motioned to his facial bruise. "The other guy looked worse."

He had to say it. Of course.

[needsabreak]

Leon also starts to make dropping in at The Outlaw in the evenings part of his routine after working at the Bullet Hole.

Tonight is no different. He ends up at the far end of the bar, by the light that's broken. He likes this seat, it offers a level of seclusion. With a little gesture, his usual gets set in front of him, a triple of whatever their cheapest whiskey is, neat.

He'd been a little unsure what he wanted to eat but the guy beside him seems to have something good.

"Is it any good?"

[doesnotsparkle]

Michael had noticed Leon a time or two before, he tended to keep to himself for the most part. Now that he had a hoodie bought with his winnings, he wore it out of the Coliseum when he worked. Hearing the voice, he finished the tender before taking a drink and wiping his mouth.

"They are pretty good, yes. You can judge a bar's standard by how good their chicken tenders are. A solid 8 out of 10." He spoke in that same Grecian accent from the network when they spoke. This was why his video was off, and worse, his sunglasses were up in his messy hair, so those red eyes were visible. It was kinda dark in here, even if he had excellent night vision. He didn't want to be the douchebag wearing sunglasses in doors all the time.

[needsabreak]

Now that he's actually looked from the stranger's food to him, he can see there's something wrong with the color of his skin, his hand moving to his gun as the stranger wipes his mouth, fully expecting the gaping maw of an undead zombie to turn toward him and lunge. Instead, Michael speaks. It's enough to make Leon hesitate, despite getting a look at his eyes. His breathing is a practiced even, focused, calm while his pulse is racing.

He catches something about chicken tenders and has to force himself to replay the conversation through his head again, his hand relaxing away from his gun.

That accent is familiar though.

"Have we spoken before?" He reaches for his drink, Michael might notice the faintest tremble as he does, fighting to ignore the flood of memories his momentary panic had just dredged up.

[doesnotsparkle]

One of the perks of being vampire-ish, was also a huge downfall, he could hear every heart being in this bar. He certainly heard Leon's pulse speed up. Yet, after years of practice, he kept his face from showing it.

Though he had not noticed the hand going for the gun, but even if he had, he wouldn't be too worried. He had a bad habit of not staying dead. He'd been shot more than a few times in the past. "I think we may have," He spoke, noticing that tremor but still keeping that same relaxed tone. "Maybe on the network a few days ago. My name's Michael Morbius." Then he motioned to the plate with those sharp nails. "Want a tender to try?"

The goal was to help Leon see he wasn't a threat. At least, so long as he kept drinking the substitute blood. If he ever goes too long, well. A thread he'd be. He doesn't want that. This is a third chance at a new life here.

[needsabreak]

Leon would like to think he's pretty used to the burn of whiskey but the cheap stuff he's been buying here is like fire as it sears down his throat, making him grimace. On his first paycheck, he's absolutely going to start buying better alcohol. It'd likely save his head in the morning as well.

"That's where. You were looking into the city, too. You're... like me," He hates the label of 'Chosen'.

The nails distract him again as he mumbles a quiet 'Leon' in case he hadn't given it the first time. His gaze lingers on his hands, his nails, the strange skintone, before moving to the chicken tender. It looks considerably less appetizing now.

"No, I'm good. ... What are you?" He's not even sure if he'd meant to say it out loud but it's there now. Maybe a bit rude but he can't think of another way to phrase it. At least he hadn't said 'what the hell are you' like he'd actually been thinking.

Late 7/1 - The Alleycat - For Harley, but open.

[doesnotsparkle]

Was this a bad idea? Yes it was. But, he was doing it anyway, he made his way down from his loft, using the fire escape to cross the street and make his way into the bar. He had limited funds and had used nearly all of it on blood substitute. Hopefully, drinks here were dirt cheap.

He was still in his white button up, with the top few buttons undone, black pants, that were tucked into his boots and his sunglasses up in his messy hair. Just in case his red glowing eyes creeped anyone out. He was pale as the Joker for sure, wild messy black hair and long black claw like names, that would put Jonathan Crane's to shame. He found a table no one was at to wait for Harley, as he plated with his phone. Carefully scrolling with the pad of his finger cause those nails are no joke.

[revmeup]

Harley hadn't been here long enough to get anything other than the clothes she came in, so it would have to do. She left the javelin at home. They would only be across the street, and a torn red gown and combat boots was probably enough of a first impression.

She looked around the bar but she really had no idea who she was supposed to be meeting, since he'd never turned his camera on. So she sent a quick DM on the network and decided if she got ghosted then she'd just hang out with the only person here even paler than her.

[doesnotsparkle]

When she sent the DM, it made his phone buzz. That pale guy looked to his phone. Then back up to the person in that lovely trashed red dress. Hot damn. He stood after sending a quick message of 'Look for the dead looking guy in the corner'

He'd even try to be a gentleman and pull out the chair for her, if she let him.

[revmeup]

Harley looked at the new message, confused, and then back up at the ghoul she'd clocked earlier. Oh. She grinned and waved before heading over, pausing to let him offer her a chair.

"Fancy!" she cooed as she plopped down and crossed her legs. She stuck out a hand across the table and finally introduced herself. "Harley Quinn. No first borns."

[doesnotsparkle]

Well, she didn't scream and start running. This was already a marked improvement from most of his interactions with people he's never met. Once he pushed the chair in, he moved to take a seat across from her.

"Something like that." he chuckled when he said it. Taking her hand, careful of his nails, he shook her hand. "Michael Morbius, No borns here either. A pleasure to meet you." Granted, after accidentally making himself a vampire that likely would never happen, even if the world they were in prevented pregnancies.

[revmeup]

"It is," she agreed amicably and gave him a brilliant smile.

The paper white skin had thrown her for a second as she had a brief lurch in her gut that it might be the Joker, but literally every other thing was so far from her ex that it was easy to move past.

"I like your accent. Can I call you Mike?"