Under The Bright Lights [Mickey]

[Vaughn Logan]

He had woken up on a cold table with a nasty bump in the back of his head. At first it was just a pain, but it turned into a massive headache. Bright lights lit up the room and made him feel on the spot. Where was he? He wasn't quite sure. The place smelled clean, like a hospital.

His vision was too blurry to see correctly. The throbbing pain in his head made it worse. In front of him sat a glass of water, when he saw it he quickly drank it all but then thought against it after. If it was poisoned he would be dead or feeling even shittier than he did now. He was thankful for that.

Rubbing his eyes, Vaughn looked around. There was a large glass wall in front of him, and he could see his own reflection. He know understood where he was. Vaughn was sitting in an interrogation room. Interrogation for what? He wasn't quite sure. The last thing he remembered was heading down to Little Tony's Pizzeria after getting done at the University. He'd been craving pizza all week and thought that tonight he'd finally treat himself to such cravings. That's when it happened. That's when some nut walked up behind him and knocked his ass out on the concrete before he had any thoughts as to why.

He knew it wasn't a Vampire or Lycan complex, if it were he would undoubtedly be tied up or dead. After a few moments a man came in the room holding a manila-envelope.

"The detective is glad you are finally awake...Mr..." the man scanned through the documents. But Vaughn finished the sentence for him.

"Logan.."Vaughn said under his breath, looking up at the man.

"Well Mr. Logan, I can assure you the detective will be here shortly."

The man was kind of plump and tried to look at Vaughn with an intimidated and serious look. But Vaughn was pissed off, and hungry. So he peered back into the man, holding back no remorse. "Look bub, you think you can get me some more water. Maybe a pizza even?"

"I'll alert the detective you're awake." He said, as he took the glass off of the table and left.

What the hell did that mean? He could feel the hunger lingering in his stomach and knew he probably wouldn't be eating tonight. What did he even do ? What information could they possibly have on it. The envelope was on the desk still in front of him. But he knew better than to touch it. He got the feeling he was being watched, and knew there was somebody on the other side of the one-way glass staring back at him.

Vaughn put his hands up to his head, trying to cover up the bright flashy lights. He wondered if perhaps the detective had information on him being a Hunter? Or maybe he was in the area during a crime and was caught on camera. Or perhaps this was some joke altogether and they got the wrong person. Or it could have even been because of an incident involving the University, and he was here for questioning.

Any conclusion he could come up with made no sense. Especially why he was knocked out and dragged here. It had to have been by someone who is above the law, somebody who doesn't give a shit about jurisdiction or anything about the code the law enforcement has to abide by.

Whoever the guy was, Vaughn liked the sound of him already. Perhaps they could have a partnership in the near future. But that thought was thrown out the window for now. He just wanted his damn pizza.

------------

Words: 626

[Malcolm Gaines]

'Right. Thursday. I fuckin' hate Thursdays.'

Malcolm sipped the can of Coke he grasped in his left hand, his right he held several photos of a rather scruffy looking man in his early thirties. Surely didn't look like the friendliest of people. The mans eyes scanned each page, taking in the info which they contained as he maneuvered through the bustling halls of Precinct 15. Numerous law enforcement members clamored in the halls, constant commotion filled the building. Telephones rang off the hooks 24/7, the usual backstreet punks putting up a struggle with the officers whom restrained them and the smell of donuts and coffee filled the air. Just another day in the life of Mickey.

Today Malcolm was headed to the interrogation room to see their guest whom he had "collected" earlier that day. While his means were abit unnecessary he got the job done, none the less.

Now the man entered a dimly lit room, eying the one way glass window before him as he stepped before the large metal table. "Ah, Detective Gaines. We've been waiting for you." Malcolm narrowed his brow, taking a long look at the man who sat alone in the room before shifting his attention to the man who now spoke to him. It was a rather large man who looked around the age of fifty holding several papers in his hand.

There was a long pause, Malcolm's eyes drifted back to the dimmed glass, looking the man over once more. He brought his can of caffeine filled goodness to his lips to take a long pull, downing the remains of his drink and tossed the can into a small bin over near the door before laying the papers on the metal table and hunching over it with a long sigh.

"Right. Did he say anything?" As he spoke Malcolm shifted his head to glance back at the cop with an un-amused look before turning back around to view the papers that lay before him. "Yeah. He wants pizza." Malcolm let out a soft chuckle, straightening out as he glanced over his shoulder at the man. "Well order some. Eighteen cut. Half sausage half plain. Oh, and get it here within' the hour, yeah?" With that said Malcolm removed his faded leather jacket, groaning abit before hanging it on a coat rack on his way out of the room.

Now dressed in a faded Gray AC/DC t-shirt, a pair of battered jeans, Black and white Nike shoes and his faithful leather shoulder holster with his blued Colt Government 1911 tucked carefully inside. He looked like shit. But fuck it. 'Well, this should be interesting.'

The man now turned the nob of the dull gray door, running a hand over his scarred chin as he entered the room. His eyes squinted in the almost blinding light. "Never can get used to these damn lights. We really need to invest in some lower watt bulbs." Malcolm took a deep breath, closing the door behind him and stepped over to the opposite side of the table which Mr. Logan sat and gave him a rather friendly smile, his hands working away at undoing the envelope before him.

"Mr.Logan. How was your trip? Not to rough I hope." As he spoke his eyes fluttered around, reading over the sheets of paper in his hands. At times he really hated this job. Usually when he was reading these fucking papers that told him shit. They needed to quit working on these fucking forms and go out and investigate. The hell with the federal agents who were in charge. They had a triple homicide on their hands. Not one bullet wound. Several bite marks found on the victims mauled corpses sprawled out on the god damn street and they said it's none of their concern. Something wasn't right. 'However, I've been wrong before...'

"Alright, can I get you anything?" He paused for a moment and pursed his lips, moving a hand up to scratch just above his left eyebrow, partially shielded from the damn light. "Alright, Mr.Logan. Let's begin..."

[Vaughn Logan]

"If you consider getting my ass knocked out on the side of the road and waking up here not a rough trip...then I was skippin' daises." He kept a serious look on his face and then leaned back in his chair, propping his feat up on the table in front of him. He was tired, hungry, and pissed off. Vaughn knew he had a desk-worth of assignments to grade and Hunter business to attend to, but these fucks were going to hold him all back from doing it.

Vaughn eyed the grey AC/DC tshirt for a moment and gave a grin. He kind of wished he was wearing his Van Halen tshirt at the moment. But it's whatever. AC/DC is definitely more cliche than Van Halen, maybe this guy was just a poser for classic rock. "So am I being put under arrest or what's going on?" He took his feet off of the table and leaned forward, crossing his fingers and laying his hands on the cold table. He didn't enjoy being interrogated, and he knew he wasn't going to enjoy sitting her with an empty belly.

"Yes you can--" He said when the man asked if he wanted anything. "You can give me a damn pizza." Truthfully he wasn't an easily angered man, but the hunger was killing him. And he needed food, badly.

"Let's get this over with then," Vaughn said as he rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, resting his left arm along the back of it.

-----------

Words: 259

[Malcolm Gaines]

"Right."

Malcolm's eyes looked over the papers in his hand before picking one from the midst and laying it in the center of the table, facing Logan. The photo was of one of the several dead bodies found recently, mauled to death. The last time anyone saw this man was with Logan, the same day of his death. "Do you know this man, Mr.Logan?" The mans eyes shifted to Logan's, studying him closely as he examined the picture.

It was hard to tell with this man, watching his eyes and mouth closely, reaching up to rub his chin with an impatient sigh. This was gonna be a long day, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay in this room. It was driving him crazy, and he wasn't sure why. A sudden urge came over him. Uncomfortable was the one word that fit him right now, shifting in his chair as he waited for a response.

"Alright, how 'bout this man here?" He slid the second photo beside the first, the second victim. He was also last seen with Logan the day of his death. An odd coincidence. Certainly this man knew something. Malcolm knew he didn't commit the crimes, but he sure as hell had a clue who could've.

"And have you any idea who this man is here?" He lay the final photo down, alongside the others and leaned back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. The room was making Malcolm uncomfortable, glancing around the room and shifting in his chair constantly.

"Well the last time any of these men were seen alive they were with you, Mr.Logan. So perhaps there is something you'd like to tell me. I'm not saying you killed them. But I think you know who or what did. So enlighten me." At that instance Malcolm stood, his chair skidding back against the wall as he did. He propped himself against the table, hunched over the photographs. He had to get out of this damn room and get some air.

[Vaughn Logan]

"Look bub, I just want some pizza." He looked over the pictures but kept a blank face as he looked back towards the detective. Food was the only thing on his mind, he didn't care about the people in front of him. Even though it sounded heartless, it wasn't. Vaughn was a man with obligations. And he had an obligation to fill his stomach with some grub. He enjoyed eating. He always has. Perhaps it was a trait he got from his father.

After he got passed his lust for food he looked at the pictures once more. The detective put a third and final one down. Vaughn looked at them. They were hunters. Hunters that had died recently due to a communications mishap because of some faulty equipment. They were names he had to add tot he plaque at the Hunters Compound. It was a sad day. But also awkward because people died, which aroused questions about whether Vaughn was a proper leader or not.

He looked around the cold and serious room. He didn't like the room, not a bit. Vaughn didn't enjoy being in a room that was so small, confined, and restricting. He couldn't leave. He was caged like an animal.

"No, I don't know these men" he said as he leaned back into his chair and looked up at the detective. They men had died from a group of vampires. But that wasn't something the detective needed to know. He wasn't ready to know. The truth hurts, and not something to be taken lightly.

------------

Words: 262

[Malcolm Gaines]

Malcolm looked at Vaughn for a few moments, scratching his forehead in the process. Could he really be telling the truth? As much as he doubted it, anything was possible. The only problem was getting this guy to let him in on the information. But Malcolm knew a way. Just hope this guy buys into it...

"Okay." Malcolm stood up, nodding his head and started gathering the papers up, slotting them back into the envelope. "Alright, Mr.Logan. Thank you for cooperating. If you still want that pizza, meet me out front. My treat. I'll give you a lift to wherever." Malcolm now held the envelope in his hand and stood by the door, knocking twice before someone opened it for him, the over-weight cop who'd been watching them. He watched Malcolm closely, staring him down and followed him back into the opposite room as he filled out several forms. "So that's it? You're just letting him go? No more questions?" 'Here we go...'

Turning, with an annoyed sigh Malcolm shoved the papers along with the envelope onto the man's chest, he just barely caught them as Malcolm stepped past him to grab his jacket. "Clearly he doesn't know anything. No point in wasting either of our time. I'm done for the day. Make sure you give those to Cap' for me." As he finished pulling on his jacket Malcolm stepped into the hallway, listening to the man ramble on, struggling with his own jacket behind Malcolm. "Mal-...Goddammit Malcolm, wait. You assaulted this man and for nothing it seems. You just going to-Malcolm, wait!"

Malcolm had no interest in talking with this lard any longer, maneuvering through the bustling halls and into the stairwell, hearing the man's voice trailing off behind him. Hopefully he'd lost him. He wasn't in the mood for his shit right now. He needed some air. Being in that room made him feel abit sick, which was unusual. He'd spent hours in that room before, which had no affect on him. Must be one of those days...

Now leaving the front desk, having asked for his messages to be held until tomorrow, he spotted the pizza man heading towards him, pizza box in hand. "Uh, I have a delivery for a Mr.Gaines." Malcolm looked at him, chuckling softly and he took the pizza, turning to hand it to the woman at the front desk. "Hope you're hungry. It's abit cold." While he did promise Vaughn pizza he had no intention of letting the man eat in his car. "Uh, sir." The pizza man stood before him, obviously wanting payment and a tip. "Malcolm, wait!" 'Jesus fuckin' Christ, this guy ever quit?' "Uh, oh. There is Det.Gaines now. The eh, fat guy over by the stairs. I believe he has your payment." With a pat on the man's shoulder, Malcolm stepped around the delivery man and made his way out to the front, spotting Vaughn looking rather impatient just by the curb.

"Alright, Mr.Logan. You can call me Malcolm. Or Mickey. Which ever you prefer. My car is this way, 'round the side." As he spoke Malcolm led him around the building, scanning the area around them. It was mid-day, cloudy skies and slight drizzle that sprinkled the pavement with small puddles. Across the street from the pairs current position was Mickey's black and white 1968 Dodge Coronet, parked in a 'expected mothers' zone. Not that he gave a fuck. They can bill me.

"Alright, here we are. Try not to get anything on the seat." Malcolm wasn't used to having others in his car. Aside from his occasional partner or his son, nobody had been in his car, which was his fathers before his death, since his dad was around. He was very strict about it. He never let anyone eat or drink, they had to keep their feet on the mats and take their coats off had it been raining. However, something told him to give Logan a little leeway.

He was now seated in the car, closing his door before starting the engine. Turning to Logan, he put the car in gear and pulled out, jerking to a stop, almost hitting a random mime who jolted out in the street running. "Jesus fuckin' christ.." Trying again, he pulled his car out and started into the city, thinking of all the pizza shops in town, however he felt he should leave it up to Logan to decide. "So, what kind of pizza you like?"

[Vaughn Logan]

Like a meerkat popping out of his burrow to detect predators, Vaughn's head perked up at the sound of the word Pizza. The cop left him alone in the room. Vaughn didn't take a moment longer to wait. He grabbed his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder and walked over to the large gray door. In a mocking fashion he tapped on it twice and another police officer opened it up.

"Hello, I'd like to leave now," Vaughn said with a sarcastic tone and a fake smile on his face. The cop opened the door for him and Vaughn darted out down the hall. He figured he'd find the exit soon enough, no need for directions. Abruptly he pushed the door open and stepped outside, looking around. He was half tempted to walk down the street and leave this place for good. But he decided to stick around. The man who interrogated him promised him a pizza, and he was determined to get it.

A pizza man drove up and pulled out a steamy pizza box, "You Gaines?" he said.

Vaughn looked at the pizza and back to the scrawny kid. "For that pizza I could be DaVinci."

The kid walked past like he didn't speak the same language as Vaughn and went into the police station. Vaughn shook his head and waited by the curb. As he breathed a white haze filled the outside of his mouth. It was cold outside, very cold. The moon was out but partially covered by the clouds. Tonight wouldn't be too bad of a night to go out on a Hunt. Although he doubt he would be able to. Especially with a cop breathing down his neck.

After pacing in front of the building a few times the man came out of the police station. Vaughn gave him an impatient look, but followed him nonetheless. He wanted to see what kind of car this guy drove. Vaughn believed you could tell a lot about somebody based on the kind of car they drive.

After walking for a bit they stopped in front of a black and white Dodge Coronet. Dodge was never something Vaughn particularly fancied, but he didn't mind the man's taste in automobiles. At least he enjoyed the classics. Vaughn got into the car slowly, admiring the inside and trying not to dirty anything up.

"You know I got a '72 Chevelle sitting in my garage." Vaughn said as he looked around inside the car.

The man pulled out of his spot and asked Vaughn what kind of pizza he wants. With a wry smile he said, "The kind you can eat."

Vaughn let out a chuckle and admired the dash. "Is this car stock or did you do a lot of this work?"

------------

Words: 466

[Malcolm Gaines]

Malcolm continued his way through the bustled streets of New York, searching for a pizza shop. So Vaughn drove a 'Velle. It fit him. He was never a fan of the 70's Chevelles, he much preferred a '65 or '67 but '72's weren't bad. "Oh yeah? You ever take her out?" That was a stupid question. When you had a car like that is was a crime not to take it out on a sunny day. "Always liked the earlier Chevelle's, '65 and the '67 were my favorites. Uncle had a '67 convertible. I remember he'd drive me around on weekends in that thing."

"Yeah, most of the car is original. But some of it was restored after an accident my dad got into. It was his car when he was still around. Restored it just the way he had it, anything that wasn't fixable I tracked down made sure it was exactly the same, only thing I changed was the engine. I dropped in a 500 once she was finished. Still have the 440 laying around. Maybe if I ever do another Mopar project it'll see some use." All the talking of the car brought back alot of memories. It was his dads pride and joy back in the day. He'd shine the thing every day after he got home. He even let Mickey drive it around the yard a few times(Much to his mothers dismay.)

Malcolm finished his little nostalgic moment and pulled his car up to the front of Little Tony's Pizzeria, putting it in park and turned to Vaughn. "So, you wanna go in and order? Or should I?" While talking to Vaughn he noticed something. Or someone, rather. Two doors down was a man he could've swore he saw across from the station earlier today. While it could just be coincidence, you can never be to safe. He'd be keeping an eye on him. Something about him seemed off. And what the hell was he doing leaned up against that building anyway? "Actually, I'll come in too."

[Vaughn Logan]

"I haven't taken her out in a while. She's being worked on at the moment. But with being so busy, it's hard to find the time." Vaughn kept his right arm rested against the door, hand resting by the top of the window. "This car isn't too bad" Vaughn said, giving the cop a sly grin, "It's no Chevelle, but hey it works."

Vaughn peered over at the speedometer, "Don't her too hard" Vaughn said sarcastically, noticing he was going the exact speed limit.

After a while they made their way to a pizza place; it was one of Vaughn's favorites: Little Tony's Pizzeria. Vaughn opened the door and looked back at Mickey once he started talking. "I don't need a boyscout" he said as he stepped out. A few moments later he noticed Mickey murmur something and step out of the car with him. Vaughn let out a sigh and walked through the front doors.

Vaughn looked directly at the italian man in the white chef uniform staring at him. "I'll have your biggest cheese pizza and a beer; boyscout's paying", Vaughn said as he pointed behind him with his thumb towards Mickey who made his way slowly into the building.

He went to a booth and took a seat, resting his elbows on the table and his hands on his face, taking a large drink of the beer the Italian man shoved in front of him. "Another" he said as the man was walking off, half-annoyed.

"Who are you looking at?" Vaughn said as Mickey finally sat down in front of him.

------------

Words: 267

[Malcolm Gaines]

As Vaughn stepped out of the car the man whom Malcolm was eying moved back, ducking into a nearby alley out of sight. There was definitely something going on. Malcolm, now removing his seat belt, turned to see Vaughn enter the store and walk up to the counter. If things went south he'd need some sort of weapon.

Inside his glove box was a small Smith & Wesson Model 60 .38 caliber revolver. Malcolm pulled it from under a stack of papers and checked the cylinder before flicking it closed and due to it's small size, fit nicely in his jacket's pocket. Underneath Malcolm's seat was another weapon, a Smith & Wesson Model 19 .357 which Malcolm also took, checking the weapon and slotted it into his waistband as he exited the car, keeping his eyes on the alley as he stepped into the store and joined Vaughn.

The mouth-watering aroma of pizza filled Malcolm's nose as he looked around the bustling little shop which was surprisingly busy for this time of night. He was now seated before Vaughn, still glancing over towards the window every so often and watched as a man came up and asked him what he'd have. "Ah, Coke. No ice." Vaughn now spoke, but Malcolm wasn't entirely sure what he'd said, still focused on the window of the building. "What? Oh, just someone I saw outside. I think he was back at the station, across the street from us. I may be wrong but I have a feeling he's been following us. Maybe he knows something."

The Italian man now returned and set Malcolm's drink down before him before striding off without even asking if he was okay. What a prick. Sipping his drink, he looked back to Vaughn who was now eating his pizza like he'd been starved for a month and a half. It was a rather humorous sight. As for Malcolm he wasn't hungry. As good as the food smelled and looked he didn't feel like eating at a time like this. Behind him at the window droplets of water began to pelt it, streaking down the fogged glass, blurring Malcolm from seeing out of it. 'Great. Just what we need.'

"So, what do you think? You think that guy is tailing us? Maybe he knows one of us knows to much and wants to take us out. But that would mean you have to know something, which you don't. Or do you?" Malcolm took another sip of his drink and set it down before him, looking straight at Vaughn and waited. He knew he had some knowledge as to what was up. And he was gonna tell him, one way or another.