R
Rashuad-012
Guest
Original poster
Name: Jason A. Maxwell
Age: 30
Rank: Lieutenant
Current Status: Active
Location: Atlanta, Georgia
12:35 PM with the stiff scent of scotch and smoke smothering the ink black area of the club around him. Lines were thick with the easy going and the overly estimated, locked in place by bouncers at each door. Jason shifted his shoulders and straightened his tie walking up to the hired muscle, flashed him his wrist with the V.I.P wristband, the brute stepped aside and let him through. Once inside he could hear low rumbles of music vibrating the walls. Like visions of a ghost, he vanished and stepped off to the side with two ears to his hidden piece.
"I'm in," he mutters, "Tell me what I'm looking out for this time?" slipping a hand into his vest and feeling for his handgun. Max adjusted the safety to off and got back to his pathway, coming to a fork in the halls he took a right on information from his briefing. Three clicks went off in his ear piece before sending him a reply. "You're doing fine. Just remember, be discreet. Be careful man, she's dangerous." then the device clicked off—just as he came to the last door muffling the loud noise behind it. Once the safe of electric noise came open, Jason was struck ears first with violent beats and shocks of bass. Covering his every direction was a crowd of people either wearing something revealing, or barely anything at all. Flashing lights buzzed across the floor as the thunderous beat drops ruffled his ears. Other than the stage lights, people covered themselves in glow-lights, glow in the dark rings and loud colored clothing within a dark room. It was like looking into a digital madness. What made it madness was how he could tell that most of the inhabitants were women. And they were not simple women either, but blood suckers--vampires.
Vampires found raves to be their easiest hunting ground. No one could really tell a feeding vampire from some slut giving a poor sucker French. You were either smart enough not to trust an easy girl during a rave, or used your groin more than your brain. Today, Jason would have to turn hunter into hunted. This particular nightclub was holding a high valued vampires criminal who's been running from their organization since her first turning 23 years ago. He felt lucky that he'd find her due to how the day she was bitten was the same as his fifth birthday—March 18, 1996.
The music vibes through his blood and bone like intoxicating venom, shaking his soul and slipping him into the insanity around him. He slapped his temples and shook his head like a wet hound, then continued on towards the bar where he thought over his position. A flick of his hand ordered him a glass of whiskey. He tipped his shades and adjusted his tux's collar, waiting patiently for the time to go out and search. The finest description he was given was a woman of 5'7, long hair, hourglass shape with a large bust, and bat tattooed on her lower thigh.