Title: "Contagion" 4/6
Author: monimala
Fandom: "General Hospital"
Rating/Classification: R, AU, various pairings, language, violence, sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own these characters.
Summary: A little revisionist history and some cross-over inspiration make for a very different Port Charles. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
There are crosses and stars of David tacked up all over the club even
though she hasn't believed in God since she was a kid. She's tried to camouflage them with funky paint and fake jewels, pass them off as art
deco, but the few patrons that brave Club 101 and keep it afloat know exactly what the icons are there for.
So do the vampires.
And it doesn't keep them from braving the place either.
Caleb and his flunkies are waiting at the very back table when she lets
herself in, sprawled along the cushioned bench like they belong there. Faith Rosco is plastered to one side of him, licking the side of his face... and Jason on the other. His hands are beneath the table... and Caleb's expression leaves no doubt as to what those hands are doing.
She doesn't blink, doesn't give them the satisfaction, as she stalks back to her office and tosses her jacket on the chair. Her gun is prominently displayed over her shirt, but that's only one-third of her game face. The rest is attitude. They can't break her. They never will.
"How many time do I have to tell you? No blood on tap. So, get out."
"It's okay...we brought our own." Caleb lazily waves his hand at the
inert mass slumped beyond Faith. Carly doesn't follow the path of the gesture, although she's seen enough bleeding bodies to withstand the view.
"I hope you brought bleach and sponges, too." She's certainly not going
to make her only night shift waitress clean up after these monumental assholes.
She heads towards the bar, where Jax is all ready pouring her a shot of
tequila as he keeps a wary eye on their 'guests.' "Thanks," she mutters, swiping the still-trembling shot from beneath his fingers.
"You're welcome." He nods his approval as she downs it all in one gulp. "They've been here since we opened the doors. They want something... and not from me, so clearly it's your charming company."
She pours herself the second. "I'm glad you didn't say 'effervescent'. I would've kicked your ass." She has barely been here five minutes and all ready her temples are throbbing. How much of that is aggravation and how much of it is Morley's powers of persuasion trying to do their best isn't particularly clear yet.
"Where's Maxie?" she wonders, rubbing at her forehead with two fingers
before she downs the next dose of tequila. The curvy blond is nowhere to be seen... and the absence of her solemn face and her multi-tattooed and pierced body worries her as both an employer and a friend. It's never a good day when somebody you know winds up dead.
"Out back," Jax drawls, amusing himself. "Smoking with the runt," he
adds, slightly less comically.
Carly winces as she looks back at the table full of fangs. Minus one. The runt. Zander. He's the quietest, least obnoxious, of the crew. Maybe there's still something human in him. Maybe there's just not enough vamp. Sometimes, right before close, he comes in and simply watches Maxie sweep up. And he asks her to dance. Sometimes, she even says "yes."
There's no harm in remembering what it was like to be young. Not for
them. But for her... for her, it would be fatal.
"I bagged and tagged six rogues today. One nest downtown. They were
resting all nice and cozy. Same fuckers that tried to roll us last week." The third shot goes down the easiest and when she cracks her neck, the headache drains away. Alcohol has killed her liver...but it does wonders for fighting off mind control. "How about we add three more to the ash pile, huh?"
"Now, Carly...you know the Master wouldn't like that." Faith's voice carries. They've heard every word. Of course.
"He wouldn't like it because he wants you three stooges to kill me
first." She snorts, twisting around, leaning her elbows on the edge of the bar. A sharp click tells her that Jax has the shotgun at the ready.
No looking them in the eye. She doesn't have to...because she all ready
knows Jason's eyes are blank. He's died too many times. The creature sitting there tucking away Caleb's dangly bits has the same face, the same name, but that's where the similarity ends. He's nothing to her now. And he'll be the first to go. What's one more time, right?
"Is it going to be tonight, Boys and Girl? Tell me."
"No." The voice comes from the entryway, where the faded carpet ends and the chipped black and white marble tiles begin. "It will not be tonight."
For just a moment, her heart leaps. No, not even a moment. A fraction of that. Until she remembers it's not supposed to do that. Until she realizes that the hair isn't long enough and the smile is cold. He's not ungodly handsome. Just ungodly.
And if she has any lingering doubts, the two women clinging to his arms remove them. Olivia, a tiny brunette with a sour expression, minces down the steps and towards Caleb. The other, also a tiny brunette, just sticks to his side like a leech. Brenda Barrett. An adoring leech.
Luis. Luis Alcazar. Not...not Lorenzo.
Jax has the next shot ready before she can even ask...and only one hand moves to accept it. The other removes her Glock. The tequila doesn't even burn. Her throat is too numb for that. But her fingers...her fingers are sharp and they dance on the trigger as she sets her sights.
"To what do I owe this dishonor?" She arches an eyebrow, feeling her partner's heat behind her. The moon isn't full in the sky outside, but he's still strong, still fast, and still capable of taking at least two nasties down in less than five minutes. She knew it was a wise decision to keep the bar right in the middle of the club.
"I have no idea why my brother finds you so alluring." Luis closes the distance in an instant. A nice trick.
"You have a criminal lack of taste." Jax grins, and the puppy shows his teeth. He doesn't even glance over at Brenda... at the woman Carly knows he used to adore beyond reason. Maybe he still does. But it's hard to love somebody when they're crawling all over dead flesh right in front of you.
"And a lack of conscience," she adds, dryly.
"*I* lack a conscience?" The Master, as he so arrogantly calls himself, begins to laugh. And his flunkies echo the noise on cue.
It sounds like shattering glass.
"You abandoned your son, didn't you, Carly? And you abandoned my pathetic excuse for a brother." Luis's voice is soft, hypnotic. "What kind of person does that? You think vampires are cold? You think vampires are killers? What are you?"
He cocks his head, and she picks a place somewhere over his shoulder to stare even as her thumb slides, longingly, up the base of her gun. "Fuck you."
"We can't look at ourselves in the mirror...but you can. Simply remember that." Luis shrugs, gesturing for his entourage to rise and head for the doors. It takes Caleb and Livvie a moment to detach from each other and Carly fervently hopes there's nothing *else* on the floor Maxie will have to scrub.
She swallows, hard. "When?"
They know. They know what she's asking.
"Tomorrow," Jason whispers, speaking for the first and last time. "Tomorrow's the day you die."
"Keep the tip," Faith adds, smugly, tilting her head towards the corpse slumped against the table like a barfly who's had too much.
Her bullets whiz through empty air and lodge themselves in the wall.
There are no mirrors at Club 101.
She's made sure of that.
***
Chapter Five
"Contagion" Home