The Future Bites

PLOT
 * LINCOLN MARCUS PETROVICH - 29 years old, vampire, works for cezar mezzanotte, playby: marlon teixeira
 * VIKA EMILY FORTESCUE - 21 years old, seer, pureblood, playby: bambi northwood blythe

Unlike his bretheren, Lincoln didn't live within the boundaries of Nuctroff. Sure, he snuck in from time to time, but it was easy with an inside friend with as much pull as Cezar Mezzanotte. That guy could do whatever he wanted, so long as the Ministry got what they wanted from him. But Mezzanotte, like Lincoln, didn't much care for being made to look like the Ministry's dumb pet. So he lived a cushioned life and stabbed the Ministry in the back any way he could.

That was where Lincoln came in. Whenever Cezar was feeling the most suffocated and weakened by the Ministry, he sent Lincoln out to shake things up, to show them that the vampire race wasn't to be underestimated. He committed acts that would have them quaking in their robes, because they knew that a dangerous vampire was out there, and they knew that they couldn't catch him. To catch a vampire as good as him, they'd need to send out another vampire, and Cezar, though he told them otherwise, wasn't about to send a man out to get his own man.

So, Lincoln was safe, and he led his own style of cushioned life too, because he was able to be free of Nuctroff, drink human blood, and get back at the Ministry for they did to him.

What they'd done to him was turn him into a vampire. Lincoln had once been a reporter for the Daily Prophet, but he'd snooped around in places the Ministry hadn't cared for, and they'd sent one of their handy dandy assasins after him. Fortunately, the dumb-shit vampire had left him for dead when he'd really still been hanging on. He'd turned into a vampire and--ta da!--here he was now.

Yes, here he was now standing in the middle of a small, cramped apartment staring his newest assignment in the face. Vika Fortescue's blood smelled nice. Real nice. But she was also real strange. Her apartment was lit with an eerie orange glow that cast shadows on her old, dusty furniture. There was a crystal ball on a coffee table covered in sticky-notes, a stack of tarot cards that were still spread on the floor, and a whole crowd of empty teacups sitting on the ledge of a window.

Vika herself nearly looked out of place in the mess. She wore a normal pair of jeans, sneakers, and a plain, violet tank top. The only reason she seemed to fit in the room was because of her impossibly dark, piercing eyes. They looked like they belonged to a vampire, or at least a witch twice her age.

"You're a vampire," she said.

It seemed pretty tranquil for someone who'd just let him into her house.

"Yeah. You're observant," he said, sarcastic.

It wasn't as if the vampire fangs gave him away or anything. Lincoln looked her up and down, thinking about the reason that he was there. Vika was soon to be the Ministry's newest target. She maybe had a couple more days before someone came to kill her. Lincoln was there to prevent that. The Ministry wanted her dead, because she was a Seer with visions that they didn't care for. It was the exact reason that Cezar wanted to make sure that she stayed alive.

"I suppose you know why I'm here."

She shook her head. "The visions don't come all the time, but I have my guess. You're linked to other ones I've had, I think."

It creeped him out, the way she said that, the way she was staring at him. He was there to protect her, because she was having visions about what the Ministry--and the Rouge--were up to. Apparently she caught little snippets of conversations, saw dead people, stuff like that.

"Well, then you won't argue when I tell you I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

Vika frowned. "I'm not safe for long anywhere. They want my death, and death will follow me."

"Maybe, maybe not. You said you don't see visions of everything, right? Well, you could be wrong. Either way, my boss wants you hidden and safe. So, come along, okay?"

He wasn't used to being unable to use brute force. Vika was the first target he'd been set on that he wasn't intended to kill. He found the idea of murder more tolerable than playing bodyguard, but that was what Cezar wanted: him to take her somewhere safe and lay low until he could find a less temporary solution.

"There's a way that I can be safe." She was staring hard at him.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Make me a vampire."

Lincoln snorted. "Yeah, right. You're valuable right now because of your seer abilities. What value do you think you'll have if you become a vampire, and they go away?"

"I don't care about value," she said. "I want my life."

Lincoln was unsettled. Vika's expression had changed very little since his arrival, and he could see that she was the intense, serious type, and she had her mind set on this vampire idea. Maybe she'd seen him coming well enough to decide how he could be useful. He didn't know, and it really didn't matter. His main concern was getting her out before the Ministry's dogs arrived.

"Look, we've got to go. We can talk more about your poor idea to become a bloodsucker later. Hell, I'll even put in a word to Cezar for you."

He extended his hand. She looked at it.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place. You can lay low there until Cezar figures out a better place."

Slowly, her hand slid into his. She didn't wince at the cold, but she'd probably known that it was coming. She just stared at that cold hand for a moment and then back to his face. When her gaze found his again, he thought, for a second, it looked slightly glazed.

"You're going to regret having to be tangled up in my mess."

She said it matter-of-fact, and he wondered if she could see it. He didn't have to see it for certain to know.

"Absolutely," he agreed.