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There is another name I know is my own, but I know not its meaning. My name is Mathias Cronqvist, and I am Dracula. My past is a blank and I am surrounded by the squalor of a world I have yet to grow accustomed to. In this I am lost. I know few things: I know I am a man of some kind of science far removed from this time, I seem to find food quite inconvenient, and I hate the petty conflicts that mire humanity.

 

Enter night, 7:30 PM. The city is busy with the rush of Friday night traffic. Some rules were eternal. Many were getting off from work just as others had the time to relax and prepare for a night out. It was the final large rush of the day cycles. It was the eternal rhythm of the modern era, the song played out as lights rushed across the world to find their bliss. On one such night, there was a simple work celebration going on at a bar called Riker's. It was like a requirement for progression. He hid a frown behind his glass as he tipped back the rough fluid. It didn't make him retch one bit. The discomfort seemed irrelevant. He felt like he could drink a gallon of whisky without hurling.

"People here are strange, aren't they?" His boss suddenly asked, calling Mathias back from the edge of his thoughts. He slowly lowered his glass to the table and replied with a knowing smile, as if to say that neither of them knew the half of it. "At least work is never an issue, Gordon. I would go mad if I couldn't stay busy."

He was an internet for a large law firm, devoted to protecting big businesses. His work was about as amoral as it got. 'Receive massive a paycheck for successfully using the legal system against other people.' He didn't care for it, but exploitation came so naturally as though it was intrinsically relevant to his lifestyle. He didn't really understand why, but he didn't waste time on settling into his new life without memories in a strange city full of mysterious inventions. Many other people came into it naturally, as if nothing was new. But he had been utterly lost at first, but filled with blooming curiosity.

It didn't take him long to get comfortable as necessary. Or at least settled. Debts and part-time work were managed while he went to law school.

But still, as the conversation naturally drew away from him, he went silent and distant once more, staring out across the bar with a drink in his hand.

I must have done this a dozen times now. It already has become tedious to always go out with these men. Their interest is purely fiscal. They lack higher minded desire.

He had spent all this time disconnected and distant from people, focused on the distant future. His answers. They were not here now, but in due time he could see to picking the mechanisms of this world apart. But for now, he drank himself tipsy, then went to the bar for more.

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JYGGALAG

Police cars riddled the entrance to the alley, blue and red lights filled the streets. The main person there was a man, somewhere in his early fifties, in a black suit. A detective who was called to study the crime scene. The man walked over to the chief officer and spoke in a voice that seemed calming and demanding at the same time. 

"What happened officer?"

The officer shook his head, his face having a disgusted look. 

"Two victims, both male. One orc and one hylian. Multiple stab wounds on each victim."

The detective nodded and walked over to the crime scene. It was brutal scene. The bodies were positioned against the buildings, one body for both buildings. On the ground was a still lit cigarette. It was a recent killing. Very recent. As the detective looked at the bodies he noticed something above them. Letters from a language were above the bodies. One looked to be one word and the other was a full sentence. He quickly got two officers who were taking pictures over.

"Take a picture of these. I'll decipher what they say later."

As the officers went to work he walked over to one body, putting gloves on, and took note of any signs of a struggle. There were none on this body but as he walked to the other he noticed bruises and blood on the knuckles of the orc. The detective stood up and walked back to the chief officer.

"Send me copies of everything you have." 

The detective quietly got into his car but was stopped before he could drive off. The chief officer stopped him.

"What should we tell the public? The killer has been out on the streets for awhile now and we can't tell them we haven't gotten close to catching 'em."

The detective looked at the chief officer and smiled. 

"You can tell them Detective Jyggalag is on the case finally."

And just like that the detective drove off.

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8:17pm. That's what the clock read as the indigo-colored eyes of a young man in his mid-20s glanced at the digital clock on the oven in the kitchen. He could see it plainly from where he had fallen asleep on the couch within his living room by merely lifting and turning his head in its direction. He rubbed his face and sat up laggardly, sighing at the effort of the process. The television, having been left on, discussed the recent incident involving the murder of two victims on one of the local news channels.

"Oh," the newswoman had her hand at her ear, listening in the earpiece as someone spoke to her. The brunette looked to the camera, "Thank you, Robert- I've just heard word that detectives are currently further investigating the situation and will not rest until the criminal is found. Please remain alert and report any suspicious activity to the authorities. Stay tuned to find ou-"

Keith turned off the TV with the press of a button on the slim black remote. He let out a discontented breath, rather bothered to hear that yet another crime occurred in his city. The young man rose to his feet and walked to the kitchen. The light had been left on and the moment he entered he grabbed a soda from the fridge. There wasn't much else within, aside from a tub of yogurt and some leftovers here and there. Noticing this, he shut the door and decided he might as well pick up a few things. Though he was asleep not long prior, he was still dressed, casually, wearing a dark blue t-shirt paired with black jeans. He slid his boots on and his collared red, white, and yellow jacket on. He didn't typically wear much color, and some judged his interesting choice of jacket. But who could blame him? He didn't want to be cold in the city's nighttime weather. It wasn't long before his fingerless-gloved hand grabbed his wallet and keys, shoving it into his pocket before exiting the small apartment building. 

The man sat upon his black and red motorcycle, opening the compartment that held his helmet and drove off. Though there was some traffic, he felt freer speeding through the streets. Electric signs and street lights lit up the lively roads. Where everyone was heading home, he was leaving. There was nothing very exciting going on at home, anyway, this is what he often thought to himself. He observed quite a few people still out and about, walking to and fro running last minute errands.

 

"HEY! Slow down, would you?!" An older man stuck his head out of the window within a car and yelled in his direction, "You're driving that thing like a lunatic!"

 

Oops. He didn't realize he was going faster than he should be. It wasn't the first time his mind wandered and shifted to auto-pilot. He didn't respond. Though, he did slow down as he approached his destination. Stepping off the motorbike and taking off the helmet, his eyes looked up and read the drug store advertisements regarding various food and beverage deals. Even with the deals, everyone knew the items were still overpriced. After another man exited, he caught the glass door and entered. 

The inside of the store wasn't very appealing. To the right was the cashier and above the cashier was the flickering light of a bulb needing replacement. To the left were a couple of shady teens and shelves overstocked with expensive chips and candies. Along the wall of the drugstore, were refrigerators and freezers containing microwavable meals and chilled drinks. He picked up a basket from the entrance at his feet and filled it with random food items. 

What a boring night. Yeah, for him at least.

 

Edited by EtherealWings

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SHEOGORATH

The mad man wandered the streets at night. He didn't go anywhere but at least he knew he wasn't a target. He was a crime lord. Probably the deadliest in the city. He even looked the part, in his deep purple suit, and matching trilby. Cops couldn't touch him and low life thugs would actively cross the street to avoid him. This mad man was a man to be feared. Though it was probably misunderstood as to why he was feared. Most people call him a mad man but many don't realize they are referring to him as mad in the literal sense. 

As the mad man walked into the drugstore he mumbled to himself, his voice accent with a thick mix of Scottish and Irish. 

"The people of this city are idiots. I'm surprised no one sees what's going, especially the other princes. They never talk to me but it's a bit outstanding they can't see the truth about this reality."

The mad man grabbed his bag of chips, Cheetos and a large bottle of Coca-Cola. As he walked to the cashier he kept mumbling to himself.

"I wonder how Haskil is doing. He must be worried that I went out all by my lonesome. Ah well if I can't go out all by m'self then I suppose I'll do it more. As much as I like my home I can't stand to believe that something is going to go horribly wrong. Oh well."

He looks at the cashier who rung up the items and grabbed the bag from him, without giving any money since the cashier never asked for it and walks out of the drugstore.

"Time to go home."

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Keith approached behind, carrying quite a few TV-dinners and snacks, noticing the man didn't pay for his food and the frightened look on the cashier's face. Naturally, he rose an eyebrow and spoke up immediately, "Hey, aren't you gonna pay for that?" Perhaps it was stupid, him questioning the rather....interestingly dressed man who talked to himself, but the young man didn't know just who was present. 

 

The cashier lifted his head looking straight toward Keith and shook his head, pleading him to not question the man further with merely a glance. This wouldn't stop the young man, who boldly repeated his question as the man nearly exited the shop. He was tired of criminals doing what they please, or perhaps it was his own agitation toward disruptants...either way, it didn't matter.

 

The cashier cleared his throat, "No, no, it's alright. Carry on..."

 

Keith set down his basket on the counter beside him and awaited a response from the man in the purple suit.

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SHEOGORATH

As the mad man was almost out the drugstore when something talked to him. No... not something. Someone. The mad man turned around and looked at the person talking to him.

"Are you talking to me? You understand who I am dontcha? Actually you answered that question when you talked to me the way you did and are still standing there."

The mad man sets his bag down and walks over to the boy, staring him down. 

"I don't think you understand the consequences of what it's like to socialize with a... 'business man' such as m'self."

As the mad man slowly reaches into his pocket he continues talking, his voice getting more menacing. 

"I could see you dead in a mere instant and your body never identifiable. I could see your entire existence erased and more importantly if I wanted to I could find out more things about you than you'll never about me."

As his hand finally exits his pocket it's revealed he's holding a wallet. He stands straight and turns to the cashier and hands him two fifties. As he spoke his voice went to a more cheery tone.

"This is for mine and the boy's cost."

The mad man turned back around and walked out of the store, grabbing his bag as he left.

Edited by SteamWarden

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Keith was surprised by the man's reaction, nearly expecting a fight. He watched the man exit, leaving him unscathed, and have paid more than enough for the total of their food. The cashier cleared his throat, feeling less threatened now that the man was gone. "You don't want to be messing with that one, son," he said as his hands shakily scanned the items. This was all he said, and the teens in the back had simply watched.

Keith's eyes narrowed at the man's back, before turning to gather his own things. After he appeared to be gone, he turned to the man behind the register,"Who is he?"

The cashier glanced up at him as he bagged the groceries, and looked to the printer that made a noise as the ink printed the total, "I think it's best you don't know."

Not entirely satisfied and a bit uneasy from the threats he had just received, he exited the store back into the cold. His motorcycle was parked right out front, so it was hardly a walk to get to it. After awkwardly grabbing his keys from his pocket with bags in hand, he unlocked the back compartment and traded the groceries for his helmet. He tried to remain nonchalant in this task, while sneaking in a few glances to his left, his right, scanning the area as he now felt watched. He locked it up and put the white and red helmet back on.

 

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There was one more man in the drug-store...

 

Disorder. Chaos. I can feel my teeth grinding already. He disgusts me. He is the worst of all the humans. And the man who was once known as the monster Dracula, was keeping in a corner, with sunglasses on at night, and a magazine up with his large brown coat's collars turned upward intentionally. He had acted fast. Did they know each other? Not exactly. But you don't get into business with the Shield without seeing what dirty things are going on.

'Hah! Don't you love it! They call it...Attorney-Client Privilege.'

He remembered this man meeting with Gordon. He never did like how Gordon's pockets were so full of money from his clients; a selection based on payment up front most times. But the business was good, and all he had to do was not (get caught) ask questions? It had gone so well this far, but as a man who worked the legal system to earn a paycheck, he knew all too well the precarious situation he was in.

After-all, he wanted to kill already tonight.

 

Thirty minutes earlier...

 

"Gods damn it, woman," He growled as a waitress carrying drinks had accidentally run right into him with a tray, when he himself hadn't been watching where he was going either. But the imposing frame and menacing yet attractive features struck her stammering. He was quick to use this as an excuse to leave the bar and his company on foot. He was fine to walk home. Five, ten, or a hundred miles seemed like a trifle to him so long as his schedule was well-maintained. And yet, he worked with the most offensive and wretched of creatures. Such was the way to gain power in this world, wasn't it? But it all irritated him. Human fallacy. He saw this whole world as a failure, and he seethed over the reasons silently, prepping himself for his next move, his next day, holding back his rage to keep it unknown to the world around him.

He didn't quite know why he hated them so fervently.

It really didn't take long for him to find himself picking up snacks for a rumble in his stomach at the most convenient location, the first store beside him as he recognized the need to feed. He settled for jerky, then mentioned to the cashier he might want something to read on his way home. He had been walking just long enough to barely be lifting up a magazine when he saw the worst sight walk in; a grotesque offense to his sensibilities, to control, to all he hated in humanity. The walking visage of his headache.

So he quickly turned into the corner, brought up the corners of his coat, and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. His lustrous black locks and face might be hard to forget, but he wasn't planning on being remembered. He pretty much kept his back turned the entire time and his hair was a little mussy, so he might be very lucky to keep himself from becoming involved. 'Idiot human, what are you even thinking?' He was gritting his teeth unbelievably hard as he keyed in on the interaction.

And shockingly, things played out well. He exhaled a sigh of relief, a tightness leaving his chest. Yes, there was this terrible killer instinct deep inside of him. He seemed to have the strength to kill men and an inclination for it, too. But that was not how you succeeded in this world, and while gun may not beat vampire, he was not a vampire, and neither did he have any clue he once was one. If he were not so ignorant of his past, he may not have chased Keith out of the store barely in time to stop him from mounting his bike and riding off.

"Halt, I say! I wish to address your brazen behavior!"

'What am I doing?'

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JYGGALAG

The detective was in his house, in his office chair, staring at a suit of armor. It was a unique set of armor with unknown origins. The armor itself was like molten metal had taken the form of a human. Then there was the sword that went with it, also unknown origins. It was a claymore. Nothing special about it except for it's unknown origins.

"One of these days, I will figure out where you came from. One of these days."

His voice held a hint of disappointment. Being who he is and considered the best at his job but he couldn't locate the origin of some armor and a sword. As he felt like he was going mad from the seemingly foreign objects in his office a loud ding! came from his open laptop. He wheeled his chair to his desk and checked what the noise was for. As he moved his mouse to a little red 1 over his email. Clicking it open he read the email title and who it was from. The chief of police sent over the files they have.

"'Bout time."

He opened the files and looked over the evidence that was sent to him. As he looked over the evidence he noticed that everything that happened was really recent to when they got there.

"How is that possible? Blood was fresh and the cigarette was still lit but no one was near."

As he examined the pictures he realized something. There was definitely a reason the killer couldn't be found. Ever. He picked up his phone and called the police headquarters, calling the chief of police directly.

"Chief you need to find out who was near the crime scene. I have reason to believe the killer was posing as an average civilian to avoid suspicion."

He listened to the officer talk before quietly hanging up. As he looked back at the pictures he saw the foreign words but couldn't make it out. That was the only thing he needed to decipher before he had a clue who to look for.

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Keith jumped a bit, turning quickly to see who rushed up to him and with such formal words. "Uh... my what?" 

It's not that the young man didn't understand him, but he was taken back by the way this stranger approached him questioning his actions as if he were his professor or parental guardian. He looked at him through the light-blue visor of his helmet, his view just barely obstructed by the black bangs that hung on his head.

The same agitated front he had back at home was brought out upon his expression and evident in his tone.

 "Listen, if this is about that guy in there, forget it. I don't have time to be scolded right now, so why don't you just lay off?"

 

On the back of his jeans, a small sheathed blade hung sideways fastened to his belt. Keith always had this blade with him, he's had it for as long as he could remember. If there was a fight in the drugstore, he was ready to defend himself. He studied the taller man who looked at him with eyes of judgment and disapproval.

Keith expected as much. After all, he had just bluntly told off the guy. He looked at his feet for a moment while crossing his arms and let out a sigh. 

"Listen, it's... it's been a long evening for me, I've got places I have to be."

 

Sure, there were places he could be. He didn't necessarily have many friends, or family for that matter. His father passed when he was a young age, and his mother... well... he doesn't remember her. Maybe he did in his life before but in this world... she was completely forgotten. Absent from his mind altogether. Little did he know his bloodline was both human and Galran descent.  The Galra was, well, are a powerful alien race set on war tactics and strength. His mother was a rogue, working in alignment with a group called the Blade of Marmora, fighting against the tyranny of the Galran emperor who dominated the universe.

Places he had to be? No one expected him to be anywhere, really. And to make things worse, he just dropped out of college. His options were more or less limited in both his personal life and work. The only thing he was good at was hand-to-hand combat, as far as he knew. 

Edited by EtherealWings

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SHEOGORATH

As the mad man walked down the street he watched the cars pass him by. The cars were much less than what passes by during the day. However one particular vehicle stood out to him. It was a duo-blue colored SUV. 

"For the love of-- What is he doing here? He knew to stay away from me otherwise he'd regret it."

He watched the SUV pull up next to him and the person driving rolled the window down and talked to him. 

"Hey Sheo. What a surprise seeing you on the streets. Alone. Without your girls. Speaking of your girls tell them I said 'hi'."

The mad man laughed. This was going to be a fun night.

"Freeze. Lad. You should get to driving before your boss loses a very nice agreement we have."

The man driving smirked. 

"Or what? There's nothing you can do right now. I could drive off or run your pathetic body into the gro---"

The sound of a gunshot and the horn of the SUV was the only thing to be heard. The blue SUV now splattered with a sinister red. The mad man put his gun away back up his sleeve. Advantages of being a crimelord include nice toys to have. As he walked he got hungry and pulled his bag of Cheeto's out of his bag, eating some as he walked.

"Cheese... To die for."

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'I desire for there to be less problems. That is the only reason I am wasting my time-no, I do not waste my time.' He troubled himself with his own thoughts as he gave the younger man a hard stare, filled with a calm sort of rage that couldn't be ignored. He had not sprinted after the man, and yet his voice sounded shaky as he said, "Lay off? Your decisions may have seen several people dead." 'One of those people could have been me.' He convinced himself it was his self-serving pride that drove him to speak to Keith, visibly gritting his teeth whilst baring his incredibly sharp canines as he brought his collar down. The harsh look he was giving him did not find itself softening for any sort of sympathy as Kieth explained, causing Mathias to fold his arms over his chest. It felt like he might be dealing with his irresponsible son, a son he didn't have in this world. Another empty hole in his heart he couldn't understand.

With a sharp inhale through the nose, he continued, saying "Look. You cannot go playing hero. There are bigger consequences for our actions, with men like him." He was starting to think more and more about it, and now his voice had calmed, but he felt more determined to tell this man of his missteps. "He, for some reason, chose to walk out of there, and maybe he will forget you. And maybe you will not see him coming next time. His ways are filled with 'maybes' that defy reason." He knew too well. Small businesses were devoured like meat on a slab as territory was ate up all across the city by this man. He helped, after-all. He would know just how many small business owners he had left miserable and destitute in the wake of his empire, probably enjoying the care of new owners if they didn't accept what felt like being owned by Sheogorath. "Do not regard men like him as cruel. See them as limitless and unpredictable. His lack of regard for limits is what makes him the most inhuman." It was strange, that he cared to lecture this man in part about the meaning of being human.

He never did stop thinking about the inhuman things that enraged him, so it made sense from an objective stand-point he wasn't considering, just as a gunshot went off within a few minutes of their interaction beginning.

Mathias slowly looked down the road, away from Kieth as the signs of anger vanished. After gazing into the pure darkness for what felt like a patient eternity, merely a few seconds in reality, he spoke quietly, and cautiously, "...The night is still young." These words felt like they echoed out of his very soul. "Use the evening for pleasure." That was his parting advice, with a composed frown. He took off his large coat and tossed it over his shoulder, before beginning to walk down the road. Home was a while away. It didn't matter if he had to walk five miles, ten miles, or a hundred as long as he made it on time.

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Keith grew quiet as the man responded with lessons people in his life prior hadn't bothered with. He had always been hot-tempered and reckless in action, and perhaps the words Mathias used spoke to Keith's own emptiness inside, even if he was bitter about the authoritative lecture flooding into his ears. Despite the wise words, Keith wasn't one to step aside while innocents were being taken advantage of. The young man was still slightly on edge, and hearing the sound of an echoed gunshot through the quiet night provoked him to shift and turn toward the sound. Something about the man reminded him of a father, and this was what led him to attempt to stop his leave. He broke his own silence. 

"Do you need a taxi or something?"

Keith asked, noticing the man wasn't walking toward any of the 2 cars parked at the store. The question seemed to cause himself to react, confused at his own offer. Maybe it was the gunshot, the possible imminent danger and the conversation that led him to give a compassionate gesture. "If that ruthless guy is out there..." 

If he were so ruthless, why did he spare Keith's life? Was it because he found joy in instilling fear? Or was it because he did have some ounce of humanity left in the madness? Keith didn't know, but he was curious. It was not long before the cars of a few policemen sped past the parking lot from which they stood. This took Keith's attention for a few moments, standing up straighter and tenser than he was before. The teens from before came out chatting and entering a car a few feet from them. One of them laughed at something the other had said just before they entered the car.

Edited by EtherealWings

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The question evoked the oddest grin. No, he didn't need a taxi. Not tonight. He had just enough time, he had just enough time as long as he kept to himself. So in that case, a taxi would mean he had more time tonight. He had left his vehicle at work, which was much closer to home than Riker's, where they always went. A tie in between Gordon and the owner who he was personal friends with resulted in work celebrations always being held there. "Helped him with a case of the health inspector, if you know what I mean," Gordon had explained with an unappealing smile, another time, another place. Not now. He wiped the smile off of his own face and turned back, and lied to him. "Well, yes, I left my cellphone at work. If you could call one, I would appreciate it." He had it in his jacket pocket, and he reminded himself to silence it at some point. "That said, I'm not personally worried about him. It may as well be compared to getting hit by a car. Have you seen the statistics of that? They have statistics of everything." He personally seemed to enjoy this fact, temporarily distracting him from the topic at hand. He began to brush his hair back out of his face, taking a look back at their surroundings.

Business went on for the store-owner, as if all was peaceful and not a sound was there to disrupt the night. Of course, this was another veneer painted over the thin distance between reality and perception. A man had died moments ago, and Mathias wasn't going to address it because it wasn't worth thinking about.

"His brood is an unprecedented display of nonsense, but if you don't trouble him or his, you may just be left well-enough alone. So that is why I am still willing to strike out into this pleasant evening alone. One might say he is like a wolf that likes to wander alone, yet part of a pack that has nonsense for rules." All he could ever think about was how angry he became when having to witness any of Sheogorath's followers on a night of celebration. 'Like children,' He would tell himself. Somehow, his invested hatred of humanity seemed to dull in their wake and cause him to refocus with grit teeth. They seemed worse than humans, and felt like a problem that should be dealt with first. But over and over, he told himself that he did not have the power to do so. Not now, not yet. "...But he is still a wolf, and he still has a pack. Their loyalty-no, adoration for him is...well, if he died tonight, the police could never prevent the deaths his followers would cause in grief."

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