forum ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ'ꜱ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟʟ || Fantasy/Mystery OxO || CLOSED

Started Feb 25 by @Vitae_

tune

Lucky shrugged. He had no clue why the comparison to Sherlock had popped into his head. Watts was right: there was no reason for him to remember it.
Though now that he thought about it, there were plenty of things he remembered. He hadn't forgotten how the world worked; he'd known to try to avoid the police, and he'd recognized the hospital. He knew he was a vampire and that he needed blood and that his self control was bad and the more he thought about it the worse it was getting-

Lucky could remember all of that. But facts about his past? His personality? Habits, hobbies, hopes and dreams? Nothing. A total blank.

He slumped dejectedly, only to have his spirits slightly lifted as Watts reacted happily to his agreement to help. At least there was something he could get right.
He leaned back from Watts a bit, the smell of blood on the man a bit overpowering for him. The detective didn't flinch. In fact, he got right in Lucky's space, and something in the young vampire's chest hitched.
He was distracted from thinking about that by the grisly pictures that began scrolling by, popping onto the screens for a few seconds each before flitting away. Lucky watched them go by, keeping his face locked down, but cringing internally. At first, it was because he was sympathetic and sad for the poor victims, but after a while, it changed. His fae cracked just slightly as his cringing became more apparent, and this time, it was recognition that was causing the problem.
He couldn't say why, but many of the images were triggering a strong sense of deja vu for him… like he'd seen them before. Up close.
Lucky only noticed Dallas freeing his wrists when the burns on them were suddenly cooled by the air. He didn't look up at them, but pulled his hands down into his lap, nervously running his hands over the fresh burns in what looked like nervous movement. It almost looked like he was scratching at the burns, though he was so engrossed in the pictures, he wasn't aware of the further damage he was doing to his skin.

Dallas closed the file, and Lucky jumped slightly, as if startled. He swallowed hard and did his best to bring down his rising fear. He felt adrift, like he was floating in the middle of a huge body of water, with nothing to anchor himself to, tossed and lost-
And then Dallas was speaking, and Lucky reached for his voice as something to hold onto.
His words got Lucky's mind going, though the long look Dallas gave him afterward gave him pause. It sounded like Nightbreak was trying to make sure it was pinned on him… or like he was taunting Dallas specifically with Lucky's presence. It would be difficult to prove Lucky wasn't the murderer, and the rest of the police force would think Watts was crazy for not trying to get a conviction right away. This case was huge, and Watts could ride the wave of promotion and prestige from this arrest for the rest of his career. They would all expect him to.
Nightbreak was forcing the detective to prove someone's innocence, instead of someone's guilt, and the challenge was only issued in a way Watts would understand. …Diabolical.
He listened as Watts explained he was free to go back to a cell at any point, and that running would get him destroyed without mercy. He'd expected as much. His only response was a quick shake of the head. He wanted to make this right, and besides… something about Watt's voice made him want to help. He didn't want to disappoint the only man giving him a chance.

He followed Dallas to the breakroom, keeping his head down, fully aware of where he was, and that the only thing between him and another silver-laced tazer was the detective.

He stayed quiet, but he was really, really hoping the breakroom had blood. Synthetic was fine, at this point- he'd even take Synth-lite. That stuff was nasty, and would kill you slowly if it was all you drank, but right now, he was beginning to lose control of himself. The pictures had been horrible, and his thoughts had been elsewhere at the time, but now, all he could think about was all that blood, just… wasted.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. His throat was so dry, he was pretty sure the nurse at the hospital must have shoved sand in his mouth as some kind of judgment.
To his credit, he was managing to stand mostly still. Anyone looking at him with any level of knowledge would have seen a young vampire, slightly twitchy, his eyes dark with the shadows all hungry vampires seem to get, doing his best to keep from salivating over the humans around him.