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

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"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?"

"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?"

"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.

“Yep.” She nods. “First as kind of an inside joke with myself, because one of my metahuman powers is.. pretty much a sonic scream.” Ha.

“Seems counterproductive for a hospital to turn away someone who knows how to do the work. No one's ever said there were too many medical providers.”

"Remind me not to make you mad." He motioned up. "Sensitive ears since the change. But, I'd love to hear you sing sometime."

He shrugged a bit. "I think it was more due to me being honest that I am a vampire. That makes many squeamish. But, a lot of people get hurt at the Coliseum, at least that was what I was told when I signed up. So maybe I can do some good there."

“I'll let you when I start, then.” Another small smile.

“A lot of people do get pretty roughed up there, true. Maybe we need a metahuman-superpowered-other run medical clinic, then. Like an upgraded immediate care clinic, but not full on hospital resources.” It's ... an idea.

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?"

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.

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.

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.

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.

Michael couldn't help but study Leon a bit now, turning away was never wise until he knew if he was next to friend or foe. Even if he was still trying to put off a relaxed air.

"Yes, I spoke to a few that day." When Leon gave his name low, Michael nodded. Showing he heard it. "A pleasure, Leon." Even if they were at a bit of a standstill, it was no less true. "Yes, we are alike in that way."

The tenders ignored for now. "Right too it, then." he spoke like an old hand at this, though he wasn't bothered. The openness of it was refreshing. "I am kind of a vampire." He could go very scientific with it, but he knew just the bare bones helped the most. "I am not dead, I am very much alive." He turned that pale wrist Leon's way as if to offer to let him test his pulse.

Again, not worried about being hurt. "A science experiment went very wrong, and this is what it did to me. I am not a danger though, so long as I drink the blood substitute the city has I am perfectly safe to be around." He knew he was a danger if he got hungry, he wouldn't lie there. He had his childhood best friend, and his ex-fiance's blood on his hands. There was no lying.

Leon gives him an unapologetic shrug, "I'd prefer to know what I'm dealing with."

He squints slightly, curious, apprehensive, but mostly trying to fit Michael into something he could understand. He'd seen a lot of shit, a lot of really messed up shit, but no one that had been claiming to be a vampire yet.

Michael presents his wrist to him but Leon doesn't immediately move, eyes flickering down to look at it before going right back to staring Michael down, watching him like he expects him to attack suddenly, ready to move at the first hint of trouble. Despite the din of the bar, Leon seems hyperfocused, on high alert and ready to spring into action should Michael force his hand. Michael's relaxed demeanor seemingly not doing anything to ease Leon's concern.

"What kind of science experiment?" The mention of the substitute blood that the City supplies him earns Michael the slightest twitch of a raised eyebrow. Leon reads between the lines though, "And if you don't have blood? Sorry, blood substitute."

As before, he kept that same energy, only he took his hand back and sat back to cross his arms over his chest. "I can not fault you for that. It is smart in most situations." This one too, as much as Michael would hate to admit it. The living vampire could see that Leon was ready for him to attack, but he had no plans too attack.

"I was born with a rare blood disease that was killing me. I spent years looking for a cure, cured quite a few things along the way, but never what I had." He explained, uncrossing an arm long enough to rub the bridge of his nose. "The last shot, I had, didn't work as the tests predicted. And what you see before you is what happened. I became a living vampire, there is nothing mythical about me." He explained, he hated when people pulled crosses on him. And he loved garlic.

He should have been better about his phrasing. The city didn't provide him with it. Michael had to work to buy it, but that was why he was fighting at the arena. "What any hungry creature would do. As much as I hate to say it. But I am working, and can keep buying plenty to keep myself in check. I do not ever aim to be a danger to anyone. I am a scientist, I am meant to help."

Leon's eyes narrow. He knows this story, he's heard it before. But it isn't, not quite, not unless Michael is leaving out some key details.

"You didn't know what the side effects would be? Or you didn't care?" He'd heard Michael just fine
He just needs to be sure. It's an important distinction. Leon had dealt with too many people who have willingly become monsters at this point.

"What any hungry creature would do? Which is what?" Yeah, it definitely seems to Leon like Michael is dancing around a few of the grittier details, "Because I know what hungry humans do and it's not that worrying. What happens if the city decides it'd like to see what would happen if there was no blood available to purchase? Is there a backup plan?"

This was not shaping up to be what he expected, which honestly. His bad, he should have expected it. Now, his tenders are cold and he's still not certain if this guy will swing on him or somehow have a stake. Those don't work, but they still hurt like nothing else.

"We didn't know. They never appeared in any of the trial runs. Had I known this would be my fate, I would have chosen to die." He spoke very honestly. Michael could still taste the blood of his best friend on his lips. That was on him. He wanted to be better. "When I realized what I had become, I tried to end myself, but nothing has taken."

He probably needs therapy, but. Who had time for that? Not him. "I would lose control until I have fed. It is not a pretty picture, but I will not lie. As of now, I have no backup plan, but I do know a person or two who might be willing if that were to happen. If my stocks ran low, and the city ran out, I would have hours to ask for help before it happened. I do not wish to have any more blood on my hands." He wouldn't deny that there was already blood there.

"'We'? Were you working with a team? For a company?" Leon prods a little gentler. His suspicions were quickly giving way to sympathy. Unfortunately, he'd seen things like this too, though usually the person slipped further away from humanity and began to turn into something mindless. He nods to Michael like he gets it. Most people... people who weren't actually monsters, they begged for death because they didn't want to hurt anyone. Out of morbid curiosity, Leon can't help but wonder what he'd tried; rocket launchers at point blank range and massive explosions were pretty effective in his experience.

His expression hardens when Michael admits what Leon had suspected.

"But you have control the rest of the time? It's only if you're hungry?" He chews uneasily on the inside of his lip, and it's with a good amount of reluctance that he continues, "If it means potentially keeping other people safe... you can add me to that list."

"No, I was doing independent research after I gained prize money for my work in blood-borne illnesses. My former partner, Emil Nikos and I, were the only ones working on this. Even my fiancé had no idea what we were doing." He sounded a little down when he mentioned Nikos, pushing his plate away, no longer hungry for his human side. A downside of his condition. He still needed human food and drink too.

Finally, he looked over when Leon expression hardened. "Absolutely, it is only the bloodlust that hinders my control. I detest a lack of control in myself, so I fight it." He finally held his hand back out to Leon. "We have a deal, Leon. So long as you are comfortable with it, and the need ever arises. Though, I must ask. Have you experienced something like this before? You seem very on edge." Not that anyone seemed comfortable with it, something about Leon's reaction had him thinking he's missed something. A missing puzzle peice of sorts.

Of course, he wasn't comfortable with it. He barely wanted to shake his hand. But if it meant Michael could maintain control and thus wouldn't hurt anyone, Leon had no reservations. The muscles in his jaw go tight but he takes Michael's hand and shakes it. He's not sure what he'd expected, but it's surprisingly human feeling.

"Sort of. They aren't -weren't- exactly like you. At first, you sounded a lot like a -we call them BOWs- bio organic weapons, people infected by various viruses that turn them into..." He sort of half motions at Michael, "They usually don't look as human as you still do, but it depends on the strain of the virus. And most of them aren't in control anymore."

The living part of being a living vampire meant he stayed very much alive. He has a pulse, breathes, eats, and stays warm. Shaking Leon's hand in return, he took his hand back after and crossed his arms over his chest, listening.

"Nothing is exactly like me." Be it ego or sorrow, who knew. "...Oh, no." His eyes widening as he listened. He couldn't even be offended, he understood all too well. "Control is not always easy, my friend, the hunger is quite the driving force. Also, I can appear more monstrous as the hunger grows, so I do get your concerns. Tell me, how did this come to be? With a name like that, it sounds like it was on purpose. Were you able to stop it?"

His mind running with questions and concerns.

"How do you think it happened? Someone in a lab had some great idea about how to create something that could be dropped behind enemy lines and devastate enemy forces," How little they'd changed from using catapults to send people who had died of the plague over castle walls.

Were you able to stop it? Leon's eyes get glassy at the question but it's gone half a second later as he blinks the memories away, lips pressed tightly together.

"It's not an 'it' anymore, not singular. There's lots of strains, new ones every month it seems. New unhinged groups ready to develop and use them.

I don't... I don't know if there's any going back to how the world was before," He forces a very bitter smile and shrugs like it doesn't bother him when it clearly does, and simply raises his hand to get the bartender's attention to signal that he needs another drink.

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

Open: The Outlaw

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cw; mention of suicide attempt(s)

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