Danica lost her favorite toy. By ‘lost’ I mean escaped…by ‘toy’ I mean Kingshit and ‘favorite’ hardly meant he was a pampered pet like Lilith’s boy-toy, Chase. No, my Danica never grew out of that third grade habit of sucker punching the one you love. Love might be stretching it…a lot, but she was fond of him for reasons I don’t even care to look into.
Hannibal King, the vampire who refused to be a vampire. I would blame his mental inadequacy on the fact that the fucker had the non-living daylights knocked out of him day in and out, but even before he was turned he always did strike me as being a little…off. The elevator never did quite reach the top level, you know? I had no idea he’d be as big a handful as he turned out to be though. I’m going to miss the sound his head made when slammed against the iron door of his cell. Good times. I can almost hear his pitiful pleading cry for freedom still echoing through the corridors of this place, or it could just be the four humans who were still currently in their cells whose names weren’t important enough to brand into my memory. As far as I was concerned their names are: breakfast, lunch, dinner and late night snack.
Hopping the lift, I rode up from the bottom to the main level of the building and whistled along to the ‘elevator music’ that filled the small space. Leaning my back against the wall I watched as the light lit up in time with the levels that passed. At the sound of the ‘ding’ I then pushed away from the wall and strolled out through the doors with my hands in my pockets. I swung a quick right in my search to find Danica, still whistling the rhythmless tune as I went. Who programmed the music in that thing? They really must be killed. Slow and painful. Is their any other way?
Shrugging a bit I tilted my head off to one side and then the other till I heard and felt a satisfying pop. I bet sister dearest got her balls busted royally by the red eyed wonder, aka: Lilith. I miss everything. Well, time for me to be ‘supportive’. A well tailored shoulder to lean on. Not that Danica is a crier and good thing too because the suit cost an arm and a leg. Oh, but no worries, they weren’t my limbs.