tagNonHumanAustin City Blues

Austin City Blues


***This is a Work in progress, chap. 1 will be updated until I am ready to post chap. 2. Feel free to read, but if you see a chap. 2 listing you may want to check this one again to see if I have added anything. Additionally, this is not a masturbation story per se, there will be some romantic entanglements as the store goes on, but there is not going to be sex every other paragraph. If you want that type of story, stop reading now. ***

As I walked out of Antone's, the sound of heavy rolling bass mingled with the noise of traffic from Riverside Drive and the cacophony of multiple patrons talking over one another as they moved to their cars. It's one of the few places where I can feel as if I have something resembling a past; since at least a few memories of my Dad are clear, unlike the bulk of my life. He was a huge fan of Chicago blues; I remember that he and I would listen to hours of Willie Dixon, Mighty Joe Young, or Billy Boy Arnold on the weekends when it was too hot outside to hang out with any friends I might have had. Sadly, I don't remember much else and even though I continue to search through old photos and documents that I inherited after the...attack, I haven't come up with much.

"Earth to Beth!" I heard a familiar voice yell over the din. I turned to see my friend waving her gem encrusted fingers in my face. Kelly has her own quirks and wearing god-awful cheap jewelry is one of them. She tolerates my weirdness though, so I feel somewhat forced to cope with her eccentricities.

"Yeah, I know I was woolgathering again." I said loudly and began to work my way through the push of people moving towards the entrance. "So, did you finally manage to get that Jersey Shore reject to quit hitting on you?"

"Yeah, I gave him my number. I figure he is a good backup if I don't come across a hotter guy tonight." She giggled slightly, "You know...if I do manage to land a better fish tonight, I could be persuaded to send him your way." I looked over at her and stuck out my tongue. She knew I would have been more keen on dropping him to his knees in pain than on any attempt he might have made to get into my panties. Not that he would have wanted to, because unlike Kelly who is a statuesque blonde with all the curves in the right places, I have always been short and slender.

I'm the nerdy girl that is always the best friend and never the one that gets the boy in the end of the movies. My constant workouts and practices keep my weight down, but fat also helps with the curves guys seem to like. About the only things I feel pleased with are my breasts, which at a C-cup are pretty good for my 5'5" stature, and my long red hair.

It's a bitch to keep tamed and I should probably buy stock in a company that makes detangle spray, but it's the same as my Mom's, at least according to the pictures I have of her. "I'm pretty sure I'll be okay with heading home alone, just as long as I don't have to come up with the money to pay a plumber to unblock my shower drain pipes of all that hair gel."

Kelly put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me seriously, "You need to think about some other types of pipe, Hun, because it is not healthy for you to be alone all the time." I shrugged off her hand and started walking towards the car again.

"It is what it is Kelly" I said, "I mean, it is too risky for me to have a steady guy. It's really even too risky for me to hang out with you, but at least I know you can protect yourself. Mr. Jersey in there wouldn't last two seconds if something wanted to maybe get a little revenge in the middle of the night."

Kelly looked away, knowing that I was right. My job doesn't have a lot of security in it, mainly because most of the people in my line of work don't ever expect to retire. When any of the Verschlungen, as they call themselves, begin to revert to their old ways, I'm required to track them down and bring them in. Naturally when something that has lived a very long life considering itself superior to humans is confronted by one, they tend to disagree with going quietly.

Deputy U.S Marshal's like myself are authorized to use any amount of force to bring them in, but the bastards mostly seem to want to go down as messy as possible. Since the Supreme Court recognized them as being basically humans that had been infected by a disease, they can openly mingle with real people now. There are times that I wonder what, if anything, had been going through the Justices heads when they made that decision; but I guess if you are alive enough to pay taxes the government overlook your faults.

Instead of being able to take care of them in their manses or hideouts, where there was little chance of collateral damage, now I might have to try to 'gently' persuade a fanged super-human horror to come along quietly while there are multiple victims nearby.

I have nightmares about it, which is funny I guess, given that I've heard some of them call me Die Nachtmahr. I Googled it and found out that it meant pretty much what it sounds like, which is fine with me. Personally I would like to have them share some of the nightmares I've had for the last few years, but I guess I'll have to settle for scaring them with my reputation.

Kelly is a special prosecutor for the ones that we manage to bring in alive. She had to undergo some of the same training as I did, so she is pretty safe. Your average person though is not really going to be prepared to deal with a being that is stronger and faster than them, not to mention being a re-born predator with the teeth to match.

When we first uncovered the fact that what all the old vampire legends had been written about were real, it was open season. I signed up immediately for the hunter teams that Homeland Security was putting together and training. Fortunately they didn't screen as well back in those days, because I honestly was still in shock and wanted revenge on the things that had ruined my life. I don't think I would have managed to pass the new psych exams in the state of mind I had been in when I was nineteen, but four years of a dish best served cold seems to have mellowed me a tad.

Thanks to SCOTUS though, the monsters have been legal citizens for the last couple of years, so all the lawyers and civil liberties folks did their best to 'weed out' the maladjusted amongst the hunters. Hence the re-purposing of the Marshal's Service to make everything more controllable than just random squads of questionable mental states. Now we are all nice and civil to our fellow 'citizens' until they step across the line, then we get to remind them that not all humans are cattle.

I heard Kelly stop next to me and looked at her again. She was staring across the parking lot with a glassy look in her eyes and a rising blush spreading across her neck and face. I turned to look at what all the fuss was about and almost lost my step. Casually lounging across the front of a sleek black exotic sports car was possibly one of the hottest specimens of Prime beefcake I had ever seen. It was hard to tell his height from his position, but I would have to guess that he was at least six feet tall and even though his clothes were dress casual, you could tell that he was definitely ripped by the way the shirt and pants bulged when he moved.

By the time I made a visual trip up to his face, I was practically panting and my body was definitely beginning to be receptive to wrapping myself around him in a decidedly torrid fashion. It didn't get any better when I saw that his hair was slightly long, which I have always been a sucker for, and his facial structure was chiseled as if by a fine sculptor. "If he has blue eyes, he is the total package", I thought to myself, before starting to come to my senses and remember that I couldn't afford to put another human at risk just to satisfy my libido.

Kelly, on the other hand, did not seem constrained by the same code that I follow as she veered away from my Elantra and started making towards the black car. I followed her to see if she was going to still need me to give her a ride, although I was pretty sure the only ride she was interested in was the one leaning back on the hood of the car ahead of us. As we grew closer, i could see that the car had sort of a wierd grill that looked somewhat like the outline of a horseshoe and a badge that said Bugatti. I had never heard of a car that was called that, but then cars aren't my forte.

I bought my Elantra because it was new, got good gas mileage, and was cheap. As a public servant, I don't get paid much to risk my life, so while I may drool over a Camaro SS, I won't be resting my petite ass in one any time soon. This car, however, looked the exact opposite of cheap and I doubt the gas mileage was anything to write home about.

It looked like it was built for one thing, speed, and even sitting still it seemed to be ready to leap forward into action. The hunk on the hood looked like he was built for one thing as well, and it certainly had nothing to do with speed. Again I felt my treacherous hormones trying to get me into some trouble I didn't need, although I certainly wanted it.

At least until I noticed him turn his eyes to me and smile widely.

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