kill the lights

Damon, at any given late night, was either having a date with chinese takeout, or he was out and about doing something more active. Lust and crime were high quality choices for a weekend. Whether 'crime' implied causing or stopping was usually decided on the go.

This time he was just settling into the first choice, laying in a weird inhuman position on his couch and listening to the opening credits of some shitty soap opera. And really, he would've been content with just a night in like this, wouldn't have thought any different afterwards if nothing else had presented itself.

10PM, Underground, Building 34b

But something else did present itself, and Damon didn't waste any time ditching his own setup in exchange for something that suddenly seemed so much better.

Damon never took long to get into the Underground and navigate around it. He knew more shortcuts and secrets than any one person should be allowed to know- this place was a part of him, inside and out, anyone with any sense would be able to tell that about him almost instantly. It was odd for a nightmare to have a home, and he embraced that oddity, just like all of the others in his system.

The brisk night air made him feel alive, as did the mixed reactions anyone gave him when they saw he was out and about. Damon had friends, enemies, and people who were absolutely scared shitless of him- as well as a mix of all of the above. So well rounded.

With thoughts like this, as well as the knowledge of where Mike wanted him to go, what he was going to get to do, Damon had a lovely skip in his step.

As strong as the temptation was to just slide in, all inky living shadows and terror, ready to go, Damon would make a nice visible entrance for Mike's sake. Friends over victims. And this had definitely been the right choice, the nightmare decided, as his dear doctor didn't look like he was having a good time. So instead, Damon just crossed his arms and listened.

"Generally, in this line of work, people don't forget Baltimore," Damon offered, dryly. "If it was anyone else, and one was a big enough idiot, maybe. It could happen. But not with him."

Damon looked at Mike steadily as he finished his ranting, and smiled. He was here now, so it'd all turn out just fine, sunshine and roses. Damon was good at fixing his dear friend's problems, whether it was by getting intimate with the man or causing serious mental and physical trauma to his enemies. The cop offered a little salute, and approached the new toys.

Damon never hid, because when people knew who he was, it all left so much more of a mark. Oh, did he ever adore his reputation.

The monster went straight for the man in the middle, because it was fun if the other two could both watch from such great vantage points- nobody left out! He hadn't said anything to any of them, but he could see recognition spreading, discomfort. That was wise, but not helpful to them now. It was too late for caution to save anyone. Slick coldness crept up Damon's arms, as well as a heavy dark blue color, as he wound around behind the chairs. He wrapped a hand around his current victim's neck, and the other above the gag and over his mouth.

The man writhed and labored, chest moving rapidly. Not screaming, but desperately trying to breathe and make his lungs work as he felt the inescapable feeling of drowning, of deep dark water and slow, impersonal loss of life. His eyes were blurred over, fuzzy, and there was no actual drowning happening, but that didn't make the effects any less mentally real and stressful to him. The sounds that came from the back of his throat, choked, suffocating little noises, were a delight. Odd little twitches and shakes from any movable limbs now, with bursts of struggling, but it was dying.

Damon was fairly focused on what he was doing, but he could quite literally feel and smell the fear flowing off those around him in strong waves. It was wonderful.

Hallucinations couldn't kill people, but the stress the body felt when they were vivid enough, that could do it. And the thing was, people were invested in their fears. They couldn't help but believe more, be more affected, make it real for themselves. The mind was the key to everything a person had, and if you fooled the wiring, well. Then everything would be a damn good time.

Of course, sometimes snapping someone out of it could be just as entertaining. Damon stood back and watched Mike take over the show, shameless, sick enjoyment spreading through him and settling warmly in his stomach.

The nightmare appreciated all the ugly tastes in the air, particularly the blood, and the continuing fear. He mused on Gabriel Baltimore, who he'd assisted before, but who was very clearly not making Mike happy. If it came down to it, his doctor was more personally important, but Damon also tended to put on the public appearance of not having any strong allegiances. Both because it truly wasn't his thing, playing like that, but also because it allowed him to do a lot- continue his trend of never owing anyone too much, never having a lack of options, never without a way out.

Damon always helped Mike, always. But the man also knew Damon and his rep well enough not to fuck around too much. It didn't change that cautious, just in case thoughts were important, despite what vibe his lazy, casual demeanor gave off to others.

Okay, the monologue was obnoxious. Damon laughed his way through it, and continued doing so after the man was dead.

"People are funny, aren't they? Thinking anyone has a reason to keep them alive once they make it clear they'll never offer you anything in return? Adorable." Not that the other two will be getting away after this is done, though, even if they do talk. Some people just didn't mean anything- cardboard cutouts that you throw out when you're done.

Damon slipped back in front, leering at the leftovers, feeling at their fears and rooting around in their heads, a very unwelcome visitor. Drowning was one of the classics, but he wondered if there was anything more to take advantage of to add to his own pleasure here.

Damon went to the one on his left, slinking up to him and kicking the chair back, smiling at the impact with the dirty ground. This one didn't like feeling unsanitary and disgusting, so Damon wormed in in feelings of being covered in filth, vomit, and his now dead friend's remains. Wet and sinking into his skin. The nightmare also pressed his boot into the man's face- just for the hell of it and the extra squirming- then left him alone with the ongoing magic.

Guy on the right was next, and who Damon had really been interested in. This lackey was afraid- in particular- of needles, and the lingering thought of being eaten alive. Most people could be counted on to not be a fan of those things, really, but those that lied awake at night thinking about it in extra detail, torturing themselves in the process, those lovely individuals were what made all the difference.

Damon showed him his teeth and breathed on his neck. Gifted to him the sensation of needles along his skin, not yet piercing but touching and skirting across delicate, soft places. Damon grew more teeth, and watched the man with the fear of something that this monster very much liked to do. He told him awful things in gentle, quiet tones, things he could do with all his teeth and that he very genuinely wanted to do.

When doing this sort of work, Damon didn't have to exaggerate. There was nothing more natural to him in the world, the things he did in dark, bad places.

Damon only felt more and more pleased at all of this. A bit late for any remorse now, after all this time and beautiful effort he'd put into his lifestyle. He was what he was, and very good at it. If anything, he'd only gained more meaning in his actions over time, adapted that special human evil he'd previously lacked. Not mindlessly malicious like the usual dark creature any longer, but something with substance, that could truly recognize and understand suffering, and all the interesting little details to the drama when one was a person.

Better in real life than the soap operas, wasn't it? Damon was glad he hadn't had to stay home tonight, he wanted, needed, to feel alive.

He wondered how Mike was justifying it to himself. The nightmare watched the doctor, with his cold eyes and pretty little gun, his detached actions. In Damon's opinion, he'd take this over crippling guilt any day… but he also thought Mike should let loose and enjoy himself more at times like these, rather than just doing what he had to, what made him feel quietly superior. A whole new world of opportunities opened up after that, and oh, Damon only wanted the best for his dear, dear partner in crime.

Despite his thoughts on Mike, Damon was very good at multitasking. Needles weren't just a funny little tease anymore, but were starting to prick and slip in, and the man he was playing this game with was starting to hyperventilate.

"All right! All right! I'll talk!"

Damon was a bit disappointed the man had broken so easily, really. If they'd been here until sunrise, he wouldn't have complained a bit. Still, though, he raised his hands, cut off the magic playing with all those helpful little brain circuits, and took a step back to once again watch the results of the buildup.

He didn't stop smiling and showing off his stunning teeth, though, only looking more giddy at the interactions between the two (for now) survivors.

They couldn't win, no matter what they did, that was just how this worked. But he liked to see them struggle.

He half snickered to himself for a moment. Bad cop worse cop. Bad criminal worst criminal. How very fitting.

As Mike finished up, more blood spilling by the minute, Damon was very happy over the chance to finally get in on it- as well as the fact that yes, the night continues on! Perhaps that hope of making it to sunrise covered in gore and holding hands would be realized.

Damon winked at Mike, before bouncing back to his favorite of the toys. The nightmare was everything he hated, and as Damon tugged off his various bindings, he smiled and told him there was still a real monster here, and it was time to really show that off.

Damon still didn't change his appearance much, aside from teeth, glorious teeth, sharper and more than ever. He didn't need to hide. He didn't need to exaggerate. In the end, it was him, pure and simple, that got to people. Making things personal wasn't against his rules in the slightest.

Damon ate the last man alive, horrible screaming and absolute, pure panic music to his ears. Helping people go out feeling the strongest terror and dread in their entire lives felt special, made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But then again, maybe that was just the flesh. Either way worked. Damon was rough and merciless and a little gun was nothing in comparison. He reveled in soaking himself in red and drinking in all the little things, tearing and pulling and taking moments to just stare and let the pain sit. Like a cat with a half dead bird, not eating just for the sake of it, but to be entertained by something that would be otherwise unimportant to him.

Damon didn't leave anything other than the mess he'd made of himself and the filthy warehouse ground. Unlike a cat with a half dead bird, he always finished all of his meals, even if a scene from a horror movie, almost out of place in real life, now remained.

Damon wiped lazily at his face, although it didn't do much seeing his hands- er, claws technically speaking- were kind of equally bad at the moment.

"So… I have a change of clothes in my car I can get, unless you'd prefer this look for our adventure?" Damon drawled, tugging at his shirt a bit, having the tiniest bit of sense to look sheepish. "Anything's fine by me."

Damon nodded, he'd thought as much. At least he'd gotten to enjoy the bloodbath while it lasted, even if it was time to calm it down again. He was just glad to see Mike's smile again, and leaned into the brief touch, offering a growly monster purr that rose up from his chest and gave his body a pleasant vibration. He'd have kissed Mike's nerd face if he wasn't in the state he was in.

Damon trailed along beside his doctor, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, still looking like he walked right out of a slasher flick. He could see the other was figuring things out. "Of course, I remember everything we've been up to- even the things you don't. Place ain't overly special, but the shenanigans we got up to there weren't bad. Not that that's enough to make me shed a tear over fuckin' with 'em."

He snorted at Mike's other comment. Rich people. It was to their advantage, though. Wards were annoying as hell.

Then, when asked about his car, Damon took over the slight leading. It wasn't that far, about a block away, in an out of the way spot that was less likely to have it casually stolen. He unlocked the whole thing first, then went around the back to get into the trunk, which held quite a a jumble of useful 'just in case' items that might freak out other people. He pulled out some towels (with special sanitary charms on them, quite useful) and a change of clothes.

He kept his trunk open as he stripped off his awful contaminated outfit, getting down to his underwear before scrubbing himself with one of the towels. His bedhead hair got even fluffier in the process. "I know you have your own stuff, but feel free to steal somethin' extra of mine if you need it," the nightmare said, voice half muffled by towel. Once he was free of gross, he couldn't really stop himself from being vaguely teasing with his movements, and took a bit longer to get re-dressed. His backup clothes were more relaxed, a dark t-shirt, jeans and a jacket.

After all that was taken care of, Damon finally slid in the car. And man. He was so ready for mixtapes.

"Virgo, if I'm remembering right, though I don't buy into th-" Damon started, replying to Mike's catcalling and settling into his decently cushy spot.

But then, of course, he was interrupted by pretty boy doctor's mouth- and didn't feel much like talking, or thinking, for a good few minutes. Just pressing into Mike and feeling the warmth between them, goddamn Shakira in the background, old and new times blending.

By the time they'd slowed down, Damon was in Mike's lap, and he was pretty sure the other had stolen the keys to his car. What a dirty trick. The nightmare was totally on board with it, and stared at his nerd with amused, dilated eyes. Mike could've asked, but it was just as likely he'd decided he wanted to drive on an impulse.

God. Murder, getting hot and bothered, and cheesy pop songs. What a life. What a relationship.