Search for my Savior

[Ron Caliburn]

Muppet? What's a muppet?

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Dear God, Ron doesn't know what a Muppet is. Its ok Ron, when my current business is finished I'm driving in with a copy of the first season of The Muppet Show on DVD.

*Mutters as he walks off* "Poor bastard doesn't know what a Muppet is..."

[Holister]

Ron, you por, poor man you. I knew you had a screwed up childhood, but, oh you poor, poor man.

[Shadowstalker]

Give it a break guys tho Bert If you can get them maybe a couple of the Muppet Movies as well. Should be intresting to see his reation to Kermit and Miss Piggy much less Gonzo. Bert If you do this you are going to have to get video it should prove intresting.

[Razor]

*makes sure to get Ron on video while he watches the Muppets*

Hehehehehe... we're gonna corrupt your soul, and curve your spine.

[Holister]

You sir are a sick, twisted, little man. Man Im glad your on our side.

[Celeste Darken]

I appreciate all your efforts in steering me to safety. But this is something I have to do . . . call it honor, call it stupidity . . . call it whatever you like. But the fact of the matter is, I owe Nordstorme. And since I am so close . . . I should follow through.

As a vampire, I possess the benefit of immortality and fast healing. As long as Evil lives on . . . so will I. Humans die of old age, die of wounds that I would heal over in a second. But Nordstorme, likely a human, and as a vampire hunter, has that frailty possessed by their race. He could be dead already. But I have to find out. Whether he will trust me or not is not the point. The point is I need to thank him. And to let him know that his deeds do not go unnoticed. So on I tread, following Gordon’s directions.

I would rather . . . gloss over my time at the brothel. Let me just say: Muriel is a businesswoman, first and foremost. She’ll deal with anything for the right price.

Including vampires.

However, I had a difficult time negotiating that price. She wanted me to kill a drug dealer who had her daughter, Tabitha, heavily hooked. Although I’m all for the D.A.R.E. program, murder is not on my list of permissible procedures to get them back. So instead, I would go to the dealer’s den and have a “chat” with him.

Unfortunately, things are never that simple, is it? I found the dealer, all right.

Already dead, his viscera all across the walls, floor, the furniture and ceiling of the shoddy shack he used as his meth lab, with the man in question hanging by a noose nailed to the ceiling.

The culprit?

Khavik.

To put it delicately . . . there was a scuffle. And he revealed things that I didn’t like . . .

“Still foolish; still arrogant,” he replied scornfully. “Knowing nothing of what truly goes on, a mere pawn to those who would use you. Did I pay your debt? Thank you for paying mine. After murdering our Stiff Dorner, I took the liberty of calling the police. Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain everything to them.”

My brow furrowed as I recognized the wailing sirens for what they were. “Will you have a difficult time convincing them that you are innocent of the crime? Blood-spattered as you are, readily packaged at the scene?” He leaped forward and grappled me by the throat. “Let me tell you how to find the man that calls himself Arthur Nordstorme . . .”

I struggled inside his grip, but he was stronger than me. I finally shoved him away angrily as he hissed the last words in my ear, but I refused to believe them. He barked out a laugh, lifting his arm and gently beckoning; a shroud of mist began to gather. The sirens were growing louder. Knowing full well his intention, I dove for his chest, prepared to throttle him, to tear his head from his neck.

He nimbly dodged to the side, kicking me away. I tumbled with the strike, crashing into the small coffee table in the corner and knocking it asunder. Seeing my chance slipping away, I snatched one of the coffee table’s legs and gave a jerk, flying toward him all in one motion. He tried to ward off the blow, but with my free hand I swept aside his wrists. The wooden piece slammed into his heart.

“That was a good shot,” he admitted through teeth grit in pain. “Very well placed, Miss Darken; congratulations on a perfect bulls-eye.” He groaned and stumbled, though I was uncertain of how to proceed.

Weren’t vampires staked through the heart supposed to . . . melt into skeletal remains?

“I hope you fare as well with the police,” he grunted.

The improvised stake clattered to the floor as he dissembled into mist.

The front door was kicked off its hinges.

“Freeze!”

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Wow, damn. What happened next?

[Shadowstalker]

That defines a "Oh Shit!" moment in my book. So as the man asked what happened next?

[Holister]

Smart vampire, stupid cops, and our tragic heroine caught in the frey.
Im likin' it.

[Celeste Darken]

Smart vampire, stupid cops, and our tragic heroine caught in the frey.
Im likin' it.

That can be construed in more than one way, Mr. Holister. And with your recent posts involving me . . . I hope this is more of your “jokes.” And I have had enough mayhem for one night I might take up that dinner offer.

I was having a bad night.

I was not going to stay long enough to answer the police’s questions. I was quick enough to escape them without too much trouble. But not quick enough to catch the vampire bat that wheeled through the mist-shrouded air.

Now to go back to Muriel. She owed me. Don’t remind me that it hadn't been me to pay her off. I wanted answers, and I was going to have them . . .

Unfortunately, Khavik had been to the brothel, too. Most of the patrons and ladies had been scared off. All I could get out of them was they had heard the inhuman shrieks coming from the basement . . . Muriel’s “office.”

Muriel was in the corner, bawling helplessly. Her bodyguards were alternately devoid of blood and their . . . never mind. Use your imaginations. Tabitha was hanging by a noose nailed the ceiling, her skin flayed.

The horrible part was . . . she was still alive.

But it wasn’t the worst part of what Khavik had inflicted upon the whorehouse in just the few hours he had been there. Again, I’ll let you use your imaginations.

I managed to call the ambulance and keep the girl alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive. Muriel went with them. And I’m not going to bother her. Whether she was willing pawn, Hypnotized slave, or reluctant accomplice, I do not know. She suffered enough, both in mind and body. I could get little out of her before the paramedics arrived. My best guess is, Khavik moved in the moment I left to deal with the dealer.

That vampire always moved fast.

So now I’m going off of his information, positive I’m walking into a trap.

But if I don’t I know my savior will die.

[Dorian Gray]

This Khavik sounds like one I would enjoy hurting alot before I ended his existance, it is a shame that I will not be able to fight him before someone else takes care of him, though that may be for the best.

[Ron Caliburn]

Naw, Khavik just needs to be put down, quickly and efficiently. No reason to cause it to suffer - that just gives it a chance to escape.

[Dorian Gray]

That would be the main reason as to why I believe it would be for the best if I did not come across him Caliburn, I could not be trusted to kill him straight away with out at least causing some pain in return for what he has done.

[Ron Caliburn]

You know, looking back at this I just realized something.

According to the posts here, Khavik was in two different places at the same time.

Why didn't any of us clue in sooner?

[Grace]

Because you were all being emotional.

[Grace]

Just to add something.

Obviously Khavik wasn't at two places at once.

That suggests an accomplice.
Or a twin.
Or a dream double.
Or Miss Darken was quite crazy and did some of the work herself.
Or Miss Darken's 'Savior' had risen as other saviors have been reported to do. Only less a savior and more a monster now.
Or the old Madame was made to do it.
Or any number of possibilities.

Perhaps some of the above possibilities have been discounted already by whatever means. There is much of this particular story I don't know although I'm sure it's painfully familar to many of you.

Which kind of makes me wonder why Mr. Caliburn is bringing all of this up? Surely some things are better left buried?

That of course brings me to Miss Darken. From what I understand of her story, she eventually found peace and perhaps redemption. There is some comfort perhaps, in knowing or beleiving such can be found, even for monsters.
No irrelevant or disrespectfully witty comment this time.

[skeptic]

It's always a happy ending when one (especially adults) lets go of imaginary friends.

[Grace]

It's always a happy ending when one (especially adults) lets go of imaginary friends.

It's true. Mine took a couple shots to the head but I'm much better off without him.

[skeptic]

It takes an imagination to destroy an imagination I suppose.

[Grace]

What ever helps you sleep at night, boyo!

Or rather, Sebastion.

You may think I'm crazy.

Maybe I am.

I have every right to be.

But I wouldn't think that would help anyone sleep well at night.

[Holister]

Listen, only 50% of the membership of The Lazlo Society is crazy, the other 50% is excentric. Since we have a number of false members, deceased members, and one shot posters that just ask for help, I say the ratio to crazy to sane breaks down to about 30/70, maybe 20/80.

[Grace]

Listen, only 50% of the membership of The Lazlo Society is crazy, the other 50% is excentric. Since we have a number of false members, deceased members, and one shot posters that just ask for help, I say the ratio to crazy to sane breaks down to about 30/70, maybe 20/80.

So are you counting the fake accounts and dead accounts as being sane?

[Holister]

No, just the opposite.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

It’s not nearly as complicated as that, Nemesis. Khavik . . . just knew Celeste better than she knew herself. When she was in the brothel, he had already murdered Stiff some time ago. When she went to Stiff, he was already . . . working on the murders at Muriel’s. They crossed paths when he came back to check on her.

I’m sorry, part of that miscommunication was my fault.

[Grace]

It’s not nearly as complicated as that, Nemesis. Khavik . . . just knew Celeste better than she knew herself. When she was in the brothel, he had already murdered Stiff some time ago. When she went to Stiff, he was already . . . working on the murders at Muriel’s. They crossed paths when he came back to check on her.

I’m sorry, part of that miscommunication was my fault.

Your fault?

[Ron Caliburn]

Actually - seeing as he and Not Me set up an ambush shortly following this that almost ended with Celeste and I killing each other - I think Khavik may have been in 2 places at once. Or perhaps Khavik and Not Khavik . . . if you get my meaning.

If we'd recognized it then, perhaps we might have prevented some of what followed.

[Grace]

Actually - seeing as he and Not Me set up an ambush shortly following this that almost ended with Celeste and I killing each other - I think Khavik may have been in 2 places at once. Or perhaps Khavik and Not Khavik . . . if you get my meaning.

If we'd recognized it then, perhaps we might have prevented some of what followed.

Don't beat yourself up over what's past. Somehow I think that you'll get other opportunities to use this new insight.

I'm not really good at cheering people up or sounding supportive, am I?

[Ron Caliburn]

Didn't add much - we knew Khavik and Not Me tag-teamed us - and their plan almost worked too - except instead of Celeste and Me dying it was just Celeste.

So it was only a half success for them.

[Grace]

Are you sure your death wasn't a secondary goal? If your suffering was the primary goal, then perhaps their success was more complete than you assumed.