Daniel Nordson

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    K33f3

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    Daniel Nordson

    Post by K33f3 on Tue Aug 26, 2014 5:17 am

    Gutter Trash
    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Nordson
        Daniel held onto the creaking, wooden fence, with a grip tighter than a vice. It was all he could do to stay on his feet as a fist crashed into his kidney, over, and over again. The world was a spinning blur of jeering faces, their taunts and yells a distant ringing in his ear. Something hard crashed into his chin, and he felt his head bounce off the wood. Then everything snapped back into focus. The crowd was cheering for his opponent, a rail thin seventeen year old, with patches of greasy black peach fuzz on his chin. He had retreated a couple of steps from Daniel, taunting him in a flurry of Portuguese. 'White Devil', he called Daniel. A no good foreigner. A worthless fighter. Daniel brushed it off, and pushed forward with his fists up. Unlike his opponent, Daniel was white, and despite the bronze tan from the hours in the Latin American sun, he'd always be considered an outsider. Also unlike his opponent, Daniel was only thirteen. When the two met in the ring again, Daniel opened with a left body hook- blocked- but the right hook that followed caught the his opponent so hard in the jaw, he fell to the ground. Triumphantly, Daniel pushed forward to finish the job. Only to find that his foot wasn't where he told it to be. The older boy had kicked it away, and suddenly, Daniel was on the ground as well. Before he knew it, his opponent had straddled him, raining down blows in a relentless stream. Daniel's vision filled with black spots, every punch blotting out more and more of his vision.

        It wasn't long until everything went black.


        Something hard pecked Daniel in the face. He was lying in a bed in a blank white room, wearing clean hospital scrubs. Standing above him was a familiar looking, middle aged woman. She was smiling at him, and Daniel noticed everything. The way her nose was a little crooked, her straight, brilliant white teeth, the crow's feet besides her eyes. He sat up, something warm filling up his sore chest and making it to his throat. "Mom?" She looked right at him, and squawked.

        Daniel jerked awake with a heavy cough, mud mixing in with the dried blood on his lips and chin. A dirty, white feathered chicken regarded him with a cocked head, then squawked at him again. "Get outta here," Daniel muttered, giving it a gentle nudge in the beak with his fist as he peeled himself from the mud. When he finally managed to stagger away from the ring and into the old brick building across from it, he was greeted by a hunched over old man. His hair was gray, his skin brown and leathery, but there was a commanding aura around him. He was famous in most favelas for hosting all manner of  illegal fighting. From bare knuckle boxing to cock fights. Most people called him "Vaqueiro", Daniel called him Rodrigo. Slowly, the old man passed a brown paper envelope to Daniel. It was lighter than a feather. "You cannot keep losing," Rodrigo said in broken English. There was sympathy in the man's eyes, but also disappointment. "Use restroom, wash your face."

        Daniel knew it was silly to feel guilty that he lost. He was a street rat, barely scraping by. He stole regularly, and the only reason he was fighting kids twice his size was that so he could have a meal once a day. The money for winning could feed someone like him for months, given that every meal was just a loaf of bread, and that he ate only one meal a day. One loaf of bread may have been enough when he was ten, but with every passing day he needed more. So he asked Rodrigo if he could fight, and Rodrigo had said yes, because he thought he saw a little of himself in Daniel. The first fight, Daniel won against a sixteen year old who had heard about the fights at a MMA class he took every Friday. That had been the only fight he won. The old man had put his faith in Daniel, and Daniel couldn't help but feel that he was letting him down.

        The restroom was a run-down mess. There was still signs on the wall reminding kids to wash their hands from when the building was still a school. The mirror was dingy and scratched, the sink-- chipped and dirty. He washed the blood off his face with cold water, and dried with the sleeves of his henley. He washed in cold water because there was no warm water, and dried with his sleeves because the paper towels had rot growing on them. He pushed his brown hair aside, out of his green eyes, and touched the swelling of his right cheek. It was bruised, but it wasn't too bruised. He worked his face until it didn't show too bad anymore, and checked the envelope. Inside was a crumpled $5 Brazilian Reais banknote. He turned the sink back on and cried.


    Night Life
    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Amanda  
        "What's the first rule about feeding, Amanda?"

        Amanda rolled her eyes, and jeered, "I was just--"

        A hand slapped across her face. A slap that would've broken her neck if she was still human. She bit back her anger, and cast her gaze down. "We don't keep them alive." Her sire gripped her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. Most of the coven coveted her sire's icy blue eyes. Despite his age, they still hadn't turned hazel like most elders had. "Do you understand why?" He hissed, fangs exposed for a split second, his perfectly plucked black eye brows furrowed.

        "So they can't tell anybody, because even though we're faster, stronger, superior in every fucking wa--" Her sire threw her across the new-age room, sending her crashing through an abstract marbled sculpture, and into the far wall. For a mortal, that may have been a bit extreme. For an immortal, that was simply a light spanking. Her sire was across the room instantly, standing over her. "I don't expect you to like the rules," he said, his thin lips hardly moving. "I expect you to follow them." He stared at her for a moment, before turning away. "Come, Amanda. It's time to clean up your mess."

        The elevator from the penthouse apartment was just across the hallway, and already open when they stepped out. Her sire's steps were light, and airy, as if he weighed nothing. Amanda's heels on the other hand, clicked loudly with every step, undamaged from her flight in the apartment's living room, and still accented her voluptuous legs perfectly. When the elevator doors slid shut, she caught her sire looking at her outfit. A pitch black latex short skirt, and a form fitting white blouse. If he noticed what it covered, or rather-- what it didn't, he didn't betray it. She hated that. With a small lick of her lips, she reached towards her sire and brushed her finger against the nape of his neck to get his attention. Her eyes flicked downward suggestively, as she wrapped her shoulder long, curly brown hair around a finger. Ding! The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped out. Unfettered.

        Amanda almost screamed in frustration.

        The basement served as the building's 'dungeon'. While the rest of the apartment building was floor-to-wall white marble, the basement was floor-to-wall cracked cement. Her sire was nothing if not old fashioned, despite his sharp late twenties appereance. If Amanda had seen him on the street, not knowing what she knew, she'd mistake him for a lawyer. A lawyer in need of company. The thought brought a wry smirk to her lips as she stepped out of the elevator and strode to catch up to her sire. He had come to a stop outside of the boiler room, where a fledgling stood guard. Like all of their coven, he was pale, despite obviously being Hispanic before his transformation. He also smelled fresh, he'd been turned less than a week ago. In his hands was an uzi, held against his chest in typical guard fashion.

        "Open the door," her sire said, and the guard complied instantly. Amanda thought she saw the guard shaking.

        There was only one light in the boiler room, a low hanging bulb that flickered from time to time. Under it was a seventeen year old boy, unconcious and tied to a chair. His black hair greased back. Amanda had brought him back from a night club after grinding on him to gino beats, and listening to him trying to impress her by bragging about the money he'd won in an underground fighting ring. It was fun seeing him sweat under the pressure of her charms, but eventually she got bored, so she took what she needed from him, and ditched him in a dirty alley beside the club. Little did she know, her sire had been watching.

        "Kill him," her sire said. His voice was smooth and sweet, but his will was commanding on titanic portions.

        Amanda shrugged, "fine," she said, straddling herself astride the boy's laps almost carelessly. She pressed everything she had against him, chest, hips, lips: grinding against him. He woke up, surprised at first, then responsive. His hips grinded back, his lips opened against hers, and he tried to move his hands to touch her-- only to find that they were tied down. Just as he was about to stop and protest, Amanda wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed. It takes eight pounds of force to crush a trachea, Amanda flattened it in an instant, along with the cervical. Blood rushed out of his mouth like a juice box and Amanda drank it happily. With the bones in the boy's neck crushed to dust, pulling his head off was child's play. A fountain of blood spurted from his chest like a fountain, his heart still pumping. When she finally stood again, her white blouse was soaked through with crimson, and the fabric stuck to her form like a second skin, she tossed the still surprised head into her sire's arm, and walked out of the room; laughing all the way back up the elevator.


    Dead Air
    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Hegarty
     


    Nobody's Slave

    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Nordson



    Breaking Out

    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Nordson



    That Boy

    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Amanda



    The Plot

    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Hegarty



    Breaking Up

    Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
    Nordson



    Free Man

    New York, New York
    Nordson



    Made Man
    New York, New York
    Nordson



    My Sins
    New York, New York
    Hegarty



    My Justice
    Los Angeles, California
    Nordson


    Last edited by K33f3 on Tue Aug 26, 2014 6:27 am; edited 17 times in total
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    K33f3

    Posts : 18
    Join date : 2014-08-17

    Re: Daniel Nordson

    Post by K33f3 on Tue Aug 26, 2014 5:34 am

    Proof read for me so I don't have to.


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    Real_Nirri

    Posts : 15
    Join date : 2014-08-26
    Location : Belgium

    Re: Daniel Nordson

    Post by Real_Nirri on Tue Aug 26, 2014 5:47 am

    Good read. Really good.


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    Vampyr

    Posts : 37
    Join date : 2014-08-23

    Re: Daniel Nordson

    Post by Vampyr on Tue Aug 26, 2014 3:45 pm

    I am proud, good work k33f3.
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    K33f3

    Posts : 18
    Join date : 2014-08-17

    Re: Daniel Nordson

    Post by K33f3 on Tue Aug 26, 2014 6:31 pm

    I know you.


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