Walker of the Night. [Open.]

[Imogen Logan]

Perhaps the one downside of being a Vampire was that she could no longer interact with the living world. It was though she had been severed from what she truly loved; museums and late afternoon espressos at the corner café. Opera theatres were still open at night, and Imogen was thankful for that, but then again so were countless pubs, nightclubs, and young couples staggering home and calling taxis after having one too many.

The world at night was a different one from during the day. She loved winter most of all; the late nights and Christmas shopping season meant that shops were open later and the sun set earlier, granting her the chance to walk gracefully through dazzling drops of multicolored lights and hum the festive songs she once sang to her children.

But it wasn't Christmas. It was only September. And God, how Imogen was looking forward to it. She and Dean used to take the kids to buy a new Christmas tree, and then once they'd got it home and Dean had set it up in the front room, the twins would have at it with the Christmas decorations, creating a mess of tinsel and lights, and baubles that only reached halfway up the tree because they weren't tall enough to reach any higher. And once they'd gone to bed Imogen would rearrange the decorations slightly, making them a little less clustered and adding more to the top, but still keeping the childlike charm that came with having your children stick stars all over a pine tree.
Christmas was once a time of ambient candlelight, mulled wine and Christmas albums.

These days, every Christmas was spent the same; a dull grey blur of flashing images as December came and went. The years went by so fast these days, and Imogen felt so creaky, dusty. So world-weary. Every now and then she would catch a glimpse of her own reflection in a patch of glass or mirror and every time she would marvel yet again at how old she felt, and still not look a day over twenty four.

Imogen stood on the pavement, one hand tucked into the pocket of her trench coat, the other holding a collapsible umbrella to guard her hair from the drizzling rain. The rain was slight enough to barely be noticeable, heavy enough to get you soaked if you didn't do anything about it, and she looked a little ridiculous holding an umbrella; she was aware of that. And so she crossed the road, her heeled shoes clicking on every step as she approached the all-night diner on the other side. Once inside the doorway, she collapsed her umbrella and shook off the droplets.

[David Cortes]

David sat quietly at the corner booth of the diner, slowly sipping his coffee, waiting for his omlette to arrive. All in all, he had to say he liked this little place. The service was friendly, the food was good, and the coffee actually wasn't half bad. Wasn't as good as the cuban coffee his old man made, but it was still drinkable. Still, the whole place had a sort of "Waffle House" feel to it. It made him momentarily miss those days after basic when he hung around in South Carolina for a bit and celebrated with his new-found friends. Ah... Many a late night drunken food craving was sated at those establishments. He missed those days... The days before vampires and werewolves and bad dreams...

David wasn't wearing his combat gear yet. Nor did he have his rifle ready in hand. It was all in a hiking backpack next to him. He planned on changing once he got to the observation post, but until then he instead wore his jeans, sneakers, leather jacket, and hat (both with their trademark smiley faces). In addition, he wore the pair of thermal-imaging glasses Hobbs had designed for everyone. Really, quite the nifty little device. He had to give that woman credit. She did good work, they barely looked any different than normal reading glasses.

David smiled as the omelette finally approached the table, the smell of the eggs, cheese, bacon, and all the other delicious things wrapped up in the delicious concoction filled his nostrils. Before he could take a bite to eat, however, he noticed something odd coming up on the glasses. One of the customers, a pretty blonde who had just walked in and closed her umbrella, wasn't exactly picking up a signature. For all intensive purposes, it stated that he was staring at a dead body. It took all of two seconds for David to realize what she was.

Vampire.

David blinked for a second, his fork still raised midway up to his mouth with a piece of omelette in it. He hadn't realized he had stopped eating for a second. Shit. That looked suspicious didn't he. He decided he'd play it off. He smiled at the woman and winked, then continued to eat. Hopefully, she'd think he was just another man who thought she was attractive (he wasn't the only one who stopped for a second to look at her), but he doubted it. The giant hiking bag may have been a dead giveaway... And vampires were a hell of a lot smarter than regular people.

No use dwelling on it now. She hadn't acted hostile yet. Time to just wait and see... And eat this omelette. No use wasting good food!

[Imogen Logan]

Having propped open the door with her foot, Imogen finished shaking rain from her umbrella and turned to step inside. She bundled up the folds of the umbrella and fumbled for the tie that would fasten it all together. She took a few steps into the doorway before looking up.

Pale, crystalline blue eyes skated across the heads in the diner, drinking in faces, voices, smells. God, the smells. There was coffee and apple pie, pancakes and syrup, hamburgers cooking in the back. There was a young woman chewing gum, and Imogen could smell the mint from across the room. Cologne, deodorant, even a few whiffs of BO, the smell of rainwater, all swimming in her head. And then her eyes fell upon him, and she froze in mid-step, and her graceful, red-painted smile slipped. A young man in a hat, wearing a pair of sunglasses. Sunglasses, indoors? She knew that wasn't right. And he was staring straight at her, or at least she thought he was, it was hard to tell with the shades on, but his fork had frozen halfway between his plate and his mouth and Imogen suspected that those were no ordinary glasses he wore. Was he... a Hunter?

She'd heard of Hunters before now, of course. She'd seen the mess they left behind, had seen what they could do to an immortal body given half a chance and a bit of technology. She didn't want to get caught up in that bloody mess, she didn't want to be just another victim, part of their monthly statistic, or whatever it was they did.

But turning around and hurrying out immediately would look suspicious, and give the man reason enough to follow her. So instead she slid into a small booth and flipped her blonde hair out from beneath her collar before ordering a black coffee.

[David Cortes]

Well, it took David all of two seconds to realize his cover was blown. He should have known better than to wear the glasses, but he really couldn't help himself. He had the song "Sunglasses at Night" stuck in his head and he really had to try it, if only once. Well, now he just looked like an idiot, and he was fairly certain she was on to him. Well, time to think...

As of that moment, David realized he was very much in a battle of mental attrition. He couldn't attack unless she did something first, and it was very clear she had every intention of blending in. The direct approach wouldn't work, and David wasn't very good at the art of subtlety. Ambush tactics? Yes, absolutely. Trying to force an enemy to attack you first? As a marine, he was told to attack, not the other way around. His training as a hunter covered some tactics, but it was rather difficult to un-program 6 years of your life.

Sighing to himself, he took off his sun glasses and put them in his backpack. As the old waitress came up to pour him some more coffee, David thanked her and continued to eat. This wait and see went on for another few minutes, until finally David had finished his omlette. As the waitress came back to pick up the food, David asked.

"Consuela, could you watch my bag for me behind the counter? I'm going out for a smoke."
"No problemo mijito." She smiled, and David thanked her and stood up with the bag, walking over to the counter and placing it behind it. He then walked right out the front door and stood under the overhang where he pulled out a cigarette, brought it up to his lips, and raised his lighter to ignite the paper. Taking a slow drag, he looked into the diner and paid careful attention to what the vampire would do next.

"Your move vampire... Your move." He muttered, looking at her then looking into the darkness of the stormy night, still keeping her in his peripheral vision.

[Imogen Logan]

((Sorry for the wait, Mike!))

Imogen eyed the young man slyly from the corner of her eye as she waited for the waitress to bring her coffee. When she did so, Imogen smiled sweetly, thanked the girl and pulled off her scarf to at least look as though she were stopping for a while. She might not be, but it was good manners to make oneself look comfortable to ease others into comfort themselves.

She smoothed out the folds of her red dress and cast a curious eye around the diner, once again seeing the young man’s face and only feeling the more uneasy for it. She watched in the reflection of the dark windows as he took off his sunglasses, and Imogen tried to remember what her Dean had once looked like; if that wasn’t her husband it could well be her own son. But that man looked nothing like her or her spouse. He bore no family resemblance. But then, how could she know?

At first, during the initial few years of her Immortality, Imogen had found that she failed to remember the sound of Dean’s voice, the way he said her name. The important details, like how his hair had ruffled whenever he’d woken up in the morning, the way he stirred his coffee, the way he got dressed... they were fading from her mind. Now, Imogen could no longer remember the little things that had made her fall in love with her husband in the first place, couldn’t recall the deep lilt of his voice. She could barely remember what he looked like. It was only by keeping a locket containing a photo of him that she even remembered the shade of his hair. Time was a cruel creature that wiped clean her memory with each passing decade. Day by day, year by year, Imogen grew terrified that one day she would awaken to find that she no longer remembered the man she loved.

She finished her coffee, paid for it, and stood up on instinct. She couldn’t sit down again now, lest she look like a fool, and so the only way to go was out. Into the night. Where the Hunter waited for her to attack like the mindless animal she was assumed to be.

Never mind. Imogen picked up her silken scarf and wrapped it around her neck again. Picking up her handbag and her umbrella, she thanked the waitress for the coffee and stepped outside into the cold night where the young Hunter had lit a cigarette beneath the shelter of the canopy overhang. Her eyes flickered to him, a note of fear in her face as she gave him a quick smile, opened up her umbrella and hurried away in the opposite direction.

[David Cortes]

David calmly stood by the door, smoking his cigarette calmly, listening to the raindrops fall on to the awning above his head. It was truly a very dreary night. The slow, methodical raindrops wasn't a torrential downpour, but just enough that you couldn't walk anywhere without getting soaked. The steam rose from the man holes, as the influx of the cold rainwater seeped into the drainage pipes, causing an influx of cold water to clash with the warm sewage water. This steam only added to the dreariness of this town as David finally finished his cigarette.

Taking a deep breath and sighing, he tossed the cigarette onto the ground and put out the embers with his boot. Just as he was about to walk inside, he saw his target, the vampiress with the beautiful blonde hair, walk out, shooting him a small, quick smile. But her eyes betrayed her. She was nervous, and it was clear she knew who he was. As she walked off, David sighed to himself as he checked his pistol under his jacket. Still there, as were several extra mags and his knife. Good.

Letting her get a small lead, he put his hands in his coat pockets and followed her into the dreary night. Instantly, he could feel the rain hitting the top of his head and going down his neck into his back. It didn't matter. What mattered now was the target. Fuck Vaughn's rules. If he followed those rules, he'd end up letting this perfect target slip back into the night, potentially eating more humans in the future. Best to take them down when they were alone then have to chase them into their damn hidey-holes.

Following her through the streets, they reached a particularly desolate area and David moved quickly to be close enough so that she could hear him, but not close enough that he couldn't react if she charged (which was a high possibility). Drawing his pistol, he called out to the woman as he pointed the gun at her heart.

"You had to know you couldn't live forever like that." David growled. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Doesn't matter. Your move Vampire." David spoke, daring the woman to attack. He hated the thought of killing a woman, even a vampire woman, in cold blood. He wanted to at least give them a chance to escape or fight back. It was his bizarre notion of maintaining some kind of chivalry in a brutal business.

[Imogen Logan]

Imogen laid the shaft of the umbrella against her shoulder and proceeded to move off into the night. Her black patent leather heels tapped a staccato rhythm against the pavement. She hoped not to be folloed, but her hopes were dashed when her sharp ears picked up the sounds of a second, heavier set of footsteps following her path. The man was following her.

Perhaps she was being paranoid; maybe he was simply walking a similar route home, only to branch off on some side street or hail a cab when they came to the nearest taxi rank. Or maybe she was being far too optimistic and he was intending to wipe her own with some godforsaken piece of technology that these humans had these days. Smart phones, tablet computers, they all confounded her.

Imogen tilted her head aside. Under the shadow of her umbrella, she dared to glimpse back over her shoulder, and saw the man advancing on her tail. She quickened her pace a little. She moved smoothly, quickly, but tried to act calm. She turned down a small side-street, wondering if he would continue down the main road and leave her be. But, when he also turned down into the quiet road Imogen grew fearful.

You had to know you couldn't live forever like that.
Imogen span about on her heels. Her eyes fell upon the gun that the Hunter had drawn, and her gaze flicked back up to his face, her eyes as round as pennies.
We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Doesn't matter. Your move Vampire.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out for a few moments.
"I..." There was really nothing she could say, was there? Either way he would attack, he was only looking for a reason to. He was almost asking her for a chance to kill her by stopping her here. Not that Imogen didn’t deny that she deserved to die. Sure, had she been human, it would have been before her time, she was only fifty, after all, but she had taken too many lives to not be deemed a threat, and would indeed go on to take many more given the chance to do so. She would do it willingly. Blood was as vital to her as water to humans, and Imogen was neither angsty enough to deny her dependence nor a monster who revelled in it.

She sighed. "I don’t really have a choice here, do I?" They say that a person’s true colours were revealed when they were about to die, and if so then Imogen’s true colours were of calm politeness and acceptance. She had done terrible things, she knew that. And she didn’t regret a single one.

She lowered her umbrella, collapsed it, and rolled it up again. Pocketing the small thing, she spread her arms, as though giving him an invitation to shoot. He had his gun. Well, Imogen wasn’t about to lay down and die. Not now. So he could bear witness to the weapons that she possessed.
And with that she charged at the young Hunter head-on, with all the speed her Immortality allowed.
It had been a mistake to give her a chance.