Change Not For The Better [Open]

[Zeke Krul]

It was raining heavily, the wind was howling all about. Unsurprisingly, this did nothing to stop the party in the social district. Miniature rivers ran down the slopes of the street. Still, people went in and out of clubs, bars, restaurants, enjoying all that the area had to offer. Then there were either those that were passing through, or unaware of the district's attitude. It was quite astounding how some could live somewhere and never realize what kind of activities occurred. A boot came heavily down as a figure strode forward, sending water splashing upwards. Several humans cried out, attempting to shield themselves with their umbrellas. His trench coat billowing in the wind, the figure gave a brief feral grin at their discomfort. His hair was matted from the rain. His face was dirty, portions of it had become partially washed away from the rain. Hands stowed in his pockets, he kept his pace. Glares were sent his face, yet he paid them no heed. As a clap of thunder echoed throughout the district, his thoughts became as dark as the current night night sky.

It is amusing how the humans carried their umbrellas, surprise and fear adorning their faces at the mere thought of being touched, even pecked with water. They are cautious of what, a cold? A small sickness? It is pathetic. They remind me of how weak humans are. They cling to their beliefs, thinking that they are righteous. If they have the chance to help another however, they always choose themselves in the end. It is their safety above others. Of course there is the Good Samaritan that will aid others, but time and time again I have seen corruption in humans. They are greedy, they wage war for their own gain. How many wars have occurred due to varying beliefs, land, and other such things? I understand that there is a war between the immortals as well. It seems no matter where I go, people are doing what is in their best interest, never in the interests of others. It is sickening. I am through with justice, of ensuring that there is someone to look after these people. They seem so content to look after themselves, so I shall let them.

There was a break in his thoughts, as they drifted to a more tender memory, one that haunted him every day. No amount of drink, drug, sleep, or thinking could ever do away with it. The memory of the girl that he had failed to save.

Where were the others? Was there not a night patrol, someone that could have aided her? I know that there are Hunters, humans who pride themselves on killing immortals. They could have helped her, gone after her. Instead, she died. I tried, I tried. But in the end, it was not enough. I failed her. The hunters, they do it for their own safety. If they are able to ensure their safety, they can continue their violent tendencies. If another race does it, it is evil and disgusting. But for them---no, they may cause as many atrocities as they wish, as long as in the end, they are the dominant ones, the most numerous, the ones in control.

His expression grew darker with every step that he took, eyes narrowing, scowl deepening more and more, every second. The downpour increased, a flash of lightning emerged from the sky, shrieks from small children and those surprised chorused throughout the street. Walking up to one of the buildings, Zeke gave a look at the title. 'Eternity'. He had been here before. Getting in line, his eyes flickered about, a smell entering his nostrils.

Vampires. Lycan as well, and several humans. I am through hunting. If they present a threat, I will destroy them. It is as simple as that.

Gradually he moved up to the two bouncers. Two large men, more than likely able to handle anything that came their way, immortal or not. Zeke said nothing, instead opting to give a them a stony gaze. One looked at the other and gave a nod. Entering the club, Zeke walked up to the bar. He ordered a drink and turned around, gazing at the scene before him.

[Julian Dobrowolski]

The night club known as 'Eternity' was the closest things one would ever get to peace and quiet, as far as New York City was concerned. Even the rage of the storm outside could not rattle the festivities within. There were those who sat at the tables and drank, speaking quietly with friends or passerbys that happened to be sitting near them at the time. There were those who were more boisterous, laughing heartily and noisily with their compatriots and uncaring of who complained about it. But the ones that had to be watched carefully were the people who took it to the extreme, getting into arguments and fights on both the verbal and physical level. In those instances, of course, the bouncers had to come in and hurl the culprits out of the bar before a bigger brawl could start. It was just the way the club ran itself.

Although it was still relatively noisy overall, Julian Dobrolowski couldn't complain as with other places.

The 39-year-old sat at a table with his hands folded on it, an Oscuro-wrapped cigar held within his teeth. In front of him was a glass of Brazilian cachaca, the ice-filled liquid swaying in rhythm with the R&B music that filled the atmosphere of the room. Occasionally, he would take the cigar out of his mouth to take a swig of the drink before him before setting it down and restoring the smoke to its previous place. There would also be the occasional dancer who'd saunter up to him and attempt to flirt with him. But he'd simply wave them off without a second's thought, at the risk of a few jeers and taunts from temporary onlookers. He simply wasn't interested in looking for love or "getting any". He just wanted some peace and quiet, and this was the closest way of doing so.

As he emptied the last of his glass's contents, he turned an eye towards the door as a new stranger approached it. But he only made sure to glance over his shoulder as to not attract possibly negative attention towards himself.

It was a man with a visage that made him appear older than Julian himself was. His cheeks were sunken in slightly - a sign that would've marked him as a potential drug abuser had he been human. He had red hair that was moderately scruffy in appearance, most of the strands sticking straight upwards. He wore a heavy trenchcoat and black gloves, presumably for protection from the heavy downpour. Curiously enough, however, he didn't have an umbrella and apparently was uncaring of being soaked to the bone. Any unaware person would have dismissed it as him trying to act tough.

But Julian wasn't the average person, unbeknownst to the populace. He could tell that there was something off.

He waited a moment after the stranger took his seat at the bar, then allowed himself to stand back up. With one hand in his pocket and another holding his ice-filled glass, he walked up to the bar. It took only a few steps before he was standing beside where the other one was sitting. He himself took a seat.

"Barkeep, I'm gonna need another..."

[Zeke Krul]

Zeke's eyes shifted slightly to the right, sparing a quick glance at the newcomer with disdain. Drifting back down to his glass, so as to not arise any sort of eye contact or acknowledgment, he did what he always did when meeting a new face. A whiff of the air was all that was needed to confirm what this person was. Zeke's constant appearance of anger only intensified, bordering on psychotic rage. He had come into this establishment to be rid of the filth that adorned much of the planet. Yet here one was, right next to him. He would tolerate them outside, in their own little world. Not here, however. As the seconds trickled by, it finally registered that as he looked down at his glass, it was empty. There was a rather simple way to fix this issue, and the human one in one go.

As the bartender served the human, Zeke wasted no time. Without even sparing a glance, he reached to his right and grabbed the glass, pulling it to himself. Before the man could even register or issue a note of protest, it was downed by the lyan. Finally looking towards the man and flashing him a wolfish grin, the psychopath gave him a crude and strong 'pat' on the back before getting up and walking off.

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[Julian Dobrowolski]

There it was.

There was a momentary curve of the teeth within the stranger's mouth - something that did not go unnoticed by Julian. Within that brief instant, he could see the twin canines that were the literal emblem of the supernatural. It was the single thing he needed to confirm his suspicions. Judging by the size, length and width, he could identify the kind of supernatural he was dealing with. It was a werewolf, and judging from what he had just seen from him, one of the worst kinds. It was a known fact that the non-human races continuously saw humanity as worthless and weak, and this one didn't seem to be too afraid of letting that feeling out for all to see.

To sum it up, he might as well have been the adult version of a schoolyard bully. Letting him walk away was out of the question, for he knew that if he did, it would just give the creature permission to do it again the next time they happened to cross paths, or to the next unfortunate victim. Julian wanted to put a dent in that attitude, to shake those individuals off of their high horses and show just how formidable an adversary humanity could be. But he knew that within a location such as this, any aggressive action would be responded to by an outside party. As of now, the goal was to send a message through to the other man without having to resort to violence first, if that was possible.

When the Lycan stood up, Julian was quick to follow. Before the man could step completely away from him, he reached out and firmly grasped a shoulder to stop him. The motion was casual as it could have been, but the grip had a warning vice to it. His eyes were narrowed in a stern glare, a scowl etched on his face. "Hold up, what the hell do you think you're doing?" He said lowly.