Chapter Text
It was nearly pitch black in Mega City, save for the flickering lights in Victory Crown Motors Shop and the holograms reflecting off glass buildings outside, tinging the air a faint purple color. Lucien West was leaning against a wall, boot pressed against it as he waited for the mechanic to finish up the repairs on his dirtbike. It had been, what, an hour now? Two? He’d lost track, the mind numbing boredom that was this place had caused Lucien to doze off once or twice as he stood there. It was late, and he wasn’t even expecting the sun to set while repairs were being done, but oh how he miscalculated.
Joni, his dear sibling–well, not by blood, but they were close enough to be siblings–was going to worry if he didn’t make it home soon. Lucien had disappeared from his family once before after getting caught up on a personal hunt, and it did not go well, causing an immense amount of worry between the two, Helsie and Joni. He couldn’t do that to them. Not again.
Luckily, he shouldn’t be much longer because the mechanic, a tattoo-covered girl with braids down to her chest, walked out from the back with his bike.
Lucien promptly thanked her, near-shoving a wad of cash into her hands before taking his bike back. Hopping on it and revving the accelerator, he left the shop without delay.
It was raining harder than he thought it had been, the pitter-pattering of rain having been muted through vast amounts of floors above the shop he just left.
“Shit!” Lucien cursed, squinting his eyes through the downpour now drenching his cropped sweater as he drove down the road, on the way to exit this godforsaken city.
That’s gonna soak it up real nice… He sarcastically thought to himself, picturing how long this damn thing was gonna take to dry. A day or so, probably.
Slamming the brakes at a red-light, he sat back for a moment in the small, tattered seat of his well-used bike. Surveying the area at the holdup, Lucien noticed a wanted-poster slapped on the wall of a building next to him and squinted at it. His eyes lit up when he recognized who was plastered on the poster.
The masked vampire…
Without missing a beat, Lucien jumped off his bike, running over and tearing that poster off the building. He got back just in time, red light switching green immediately as he plopped down on his vehicle, paper clutched in hand.
His eyes flickered between it and the road ahead of him, heart rate quickening the more he thought about the idea of him even being alive. He’d stuck a golden stake through the leech’s heart and watched him die, right? He was dead. There was no way he was still up and thriving. No way he was already hunting again, and no way he changed up his look that quickly. It’d only been a handful of weeks since (what Lucien thought was) his death.
Formerly, the vamp had taken on a more stereotypical look for his kind. He dressed in black, grew out sharp nails (presumably to assist in the blood-drawing process of his victims), wore a mask to cover his fangs, and most importantly–wore a fucking cape. Who in their right minds would wear a CAPE if you were trying to hide your vampiric identity? These fuckers got hunted like hell, so you’d think they’d at least try and blend in.
Now, it seems he’d changed it up. The poster pictured the elder with longer, split dyed hair and a poorly sewn together button down shirt with the top buttons undone. A look that leant more to the casual side, allowing him to blend in easier than before.
Allowing him to hunt easier too… Lucien thought, spare hand crawling up to his neck, slipping a finger underneath his spiked choker to run it over the scarred bite marks that hid below the thing, reminiscing what happened.
Anger-driven tears began to burn his eyes. He allowed them to fall, thankful the rain could do something useful for once, like mask his shameful crying.
All the shit I went through to send that fucker to his grave. All of it. For nothing?
“No!” Lucien screamed, messily drifting over to the side of the bridge he was in the middle of crossing, too shaken to safely operate the bike any further.
Elbows resting on the front fork handlebars, tears wrenched his body forward, head hanging low. He watched as his long, soaked hair dripped rain water, the droplets landing softly onto his bike's wheel.
He sat there and sobbed like some kind of fucking baby, just wanting to forget what happened, but never seeming to escape his mistakes.
The ‘mistake’ this time was hunting a vampire that Lucien knew had been around for a while and had experience, therefore wasn’t going to be an easy kill.
Why did he do it? Revenge (with a tinge of impulse). He didn’t want anyone else dying at the hands of those bloodsuckers. Like his mother, Fable. She was the one person who gave a singular shit about Lucien. Ironic that she, out of all people, was drained dry. Couldn’t it have been his deadbeat father? Someone like that horrid man who neglected or didn’t see Lucien as a person? Ignored him? Argued when he simply cut his hair because it didn’t make him look like the “girl” he was?
No, it just had to be her.
Lucien will never be able to forget that night. That wretched night all those years ago. He was ten–no, eleven?--and his father had dropped him off at his moms house for the week. He nearly stormed in the door, so excited to finally see his beloved mother again, especially after the shitty weekend he just had.
Every weekend was shitty when it was with his father.
“Mom, I’m home!” He yelled then, running inside with excitement, a smile plastered on his face. Silence. She was usually running over to him by now, embracing the boy in a tight hug. “Mom?”
No, not silence. There was a faint, slimy noise coming from his mother’s room, like a thirsty dog licking up water after a long walk. Slowly, he tiptoed over to the door.
No way she got a girlfriend over the weekend… Lucien humorously thought, letting curiosity get the best of him as he knelt down to the floor and peeked an eye through the crack between the door and the ground. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if his suspicions were correct, but he was too curious to care.
Curiosity does kill the cat, they say.
Screaming. That was the only sound that could escape his mouth at the sight bestowed before him. His golden eyes dulled seeing his mother slumped on the floor pale as a ghost, blood strewn down her neck.
He was struck frozen in place on the floor, unable to move even as a lilac figure threw the door open at the noise and shoved Lucien aside to speedily leave the property.
That figure was drilled into the back of his mind like a nasty scar for the rest of his years. It stuck there, never leaving his thoughts.
So of course when he was on a late supply run for Joni and Helsie in Frenzy Fields a couple weeks ago and saw an oddly familiar man with the same lilac skin straying by the pond, Lucien just had to investigate.
He grabbed a shovel nearby, chasing after the figure who snatched up a duck from the water and ran into a storage shed with it. Lucien dashed behind him, shovel raised to strike–! But next thing he knew, the shovel that had just been gripped tightly in his hands was thrown to the floor by an invisible force.
The figure–no, vampire–tossed the duck he was feeding on somewhere behind him, forgetting the mere idea of drinking from it as his eyes widened at the sight of Lucien. The elder inhaled his scent, speaking with a smooth accent, “Oh, perfect timing, dear.”
With inhumane speed, he jumped on Lucien, attacking the boy’s neck with his mouth. His struggles were pointless, the man easily overpowering him as he fed.
Luckily, that wasn’t all Lucien had in pocket. Literally.
He frantically tore off his belt chain, a circular charm adorning the end that held three tiny but lethal stakes on it. Lucien rammed one of the spikes into his chest, using the sudden hitch of the vamp’s movement to run. To run as far as he could until he got lost, spending days finding his way back home to his found family, arriving home tired as all fuck with tattered clothes to show it.
If the vampire was alive, that meant he went through all that for nothing.
Fuck, he missed his mom. None of this would’ve happened if she was still alive.
It’s like he could hear her right now…
…Or maybe that was just the voices coming from below the bridge by the vault. What the hell are people doing down there at this hour?!
Lucien flapped his hands and took a deep breath in an attempt to shake off the emotions and memories that haunted him near-daily. No need to continue brooding over the same thing he always did.
Hopefully curiosity doesn’t kill the cat this time. He shakily hopped off his bike, sniffing back some snot clogging his nose from the sobbing he just did. After Lucien pushed the kickstand down with his boot, he made his way down the stairs to where a vault was stowed away right beside the Mega City lake where nobody passing by the road on top of it would notice.
He used the dark and rain to mask his presence, pressing himself against the wall as far as he could to not be seen and peeked around the concrete, praying to every god above he didn't even believe in that there wouldn’t be another drained body.
Oh.
Well, the gods have their own odd sense of humor! Lucien thought as he saw not a dead body, but him again. The new look on him as displayed in the wanted poster. He made sure to stay dead (like his mother) silent as he surveyed the man. He had his back turned, seeming to be speaking with someone, though what could be said was unknown through the heavy rain, and the person was out of sight. Dammit.
Lucien pushed his luck, angling his head further out so he could see the individual.
Her slim form was in head to toe techwear, pink-white hair covered by a hood, bunny ears hanging down from the thing. She gave the vampire a wad of cash while he gave a closed handful of something in return.
Selling off blood to turn more into your kind, huh? Fuckin’ sicko.
The girl took what was in his hand and nodded, walking off to the stairs where Lucien currently hid.
Oh, shit, he panicked, desperately trying to search for a way out that wasn’t noisy and didn’t result in him being seen. He couldn’t think up anything, resorting to standing still as stock against the wall, attempting not to move an inch so he wouldn’t be seen.
Of course, the girl just had to notice him. “This one’s yours, dickwad! I dealt with the po-po last time!” She yelled behind her as she ran off.
Lucien took the opening, bull-rushing after the vampire. His eyes widened, yelling with a raspy voice, “Hey–no–I paid my taxes! For once! I’ma good citizen, swear by it!”
Ignoring his claims, Lucien pinned him to the wall, cheek squished against the vault door. He let out a grunt of pain as Lucien clamped his wrists together behind his back with a hand. The poster that was previously gripped in his hand fell somewhere to the floor, the thing getting soggy with rain. “Blood-dealing, you vampire freak? Huh?”
The vamp writhed in his hands, yelling out various insults, “The fuck are you on about, bitch? You’ve got the wrooooong guy, here, buddy, let me tell you someth-”
Lucien reached for his stake-covered belt chain with a free hand to finally end him–really end him–but his hand collided with a panel beside the vault door and the thing flew open, sending them toppling to the floor inside, purple-haired man below the other before the door loudly slammed shut again.
“See what you did? Fuckin’ shit, man!” He spun around from his stomach to a sitting position by shoving Lucien off of him, using his hands to crawl away. “Whaddya want so bad that y’got us stuck in here for it?!” His voice seethed with pissed off frustration.
Lucien’s face dropped as he locked eyes with the man. Instead of glowing red eyes, he bore one silver and one a deep pink shade. His skin was more gray than purple, and he took on a younger look than expected. “You’re not–”
“Not my father? No shit, asshole! Ya coulda confirmed that before you attacked my ass!”
Bewildered, Lucien also sat upright, chest heaving with a sudden panic at his mistake. “‘Father’? You- who? The- no…”
The man–boy?--sighed, brushing off his shirt, visibly relaxing a tinge with the knowledge that the attack was mostly accidental. “Somethin’ ‘West’, right? You’re a staker.” Lucien didn’t reply and he took that as a ‘yes’, sighing. “Dad’s spoken about you.”
“Oh.” Lucien frowned, disoriented. The other noticed his expression and took an attempt at making him feel more eased. “Styx. The name’s Styx.”
Almost immediately Lucien barked, “Sticks?! Like… like the franchise?”
Styx deadpanned, having heard that one far too many times. “Okay, West. You’re one to speak.”
“You can call me Lucien.”
Crossing his arms, Styx replied, “Well, Lucien, for your information it’s ‘sticks’ with a ‘y’, dipshit. Not like the franchise.”
“S-t-y-c-k-s?” Lucien spelled out, confused about the odd spelling.
“No! It’s S-t-y-c–no, with a ‘kay-” Styx’s eyes dropped. “Ah, shit. I forgot. But it’s not like the fucking franchise! Don’t compare me to that assmuncher!”
Lucien laughed, a contrast to his former worried manner. The tension in the air felt like it had lightened up some. “Whaddya have against Fishstick?”
“Everything! One, he’s the horrible face of capitalism. Two, he’s a liar and a raging drug addict. Trust me–I’ve seen him smoking it up in the back of his kitchen before. I was just trynna get some fish frie-”
“You don’t look any better than him in that matter.” Lucien cut in, alluding to the tiny bag peeking out from his pants pocket with raised eyebrows. It clicked what happened with the bunny girl from earlier now that his mind wasn’t vampire-revenge-consumed. He felt like an idiot for thinking he was selling off the Dark Gift or something earlier.
Styx shuffled to stand up. “I was dealing! A boy’s gotta make money, y’know.”
“The offspring of a vampire needs to deal drugs under a fucking bridge just to make bag? Does your daddy not help you at all?” Lucien scoffed.
“Nothin’ wrong with a lil’ independent money makin’!” Styx absentmindedly strode over to the vault door and fidgeted around with it. The thing didn’t budge and the two of them realized they’d be stuck in there. Styx was familiar with this room and knew there wasn’t any other escape route other than the vault door which clearly wasn’t giving.
Lucien hopped up off the floor, brushing away some dust from a worn-down couch in front of him before plopping down on it. “So… we’re stuck?” He spoke, deciding to focus on what was more important right now other than some stupid drug affairs.
“Nah.” Styx nonchalantly shrugged, picking up a severely out of date phone from his pocket and began to dial a number on it. Lucien stifled a laugh at the obvious burner phone, but his face dropped when he heard the thing ring. “Who are you calling?”
Styx paused, unsure what to say. He knew Lucien and his father didn’t have the best thing going, but he’d be able to help out right now and that’s all that mattered. He decided not to answer Lucien when the phone picked up.
“Dad!! Dearest dad that I love oh so much. Yeah, haha, um… So I-” He was cut off by a muffled voice on the other end of the phone, but a loud, disappointed groan was made out through the noise. Lucien froze as he listened to them speak, his worries for who Styx was contacting being confirmed.
Various apologies and pleas for his father to help poured out of Styx’s mouth, but after a bit of back-and-forth, they seemingly came to an agreement and he hung up the call. Grinning, he spun around to face Lucien. “We have a way out!”
Lucien frowned, the couch cushion below him getting bundled up in his fists as he tried to form words. Nothing but a noise caught in his throat came out, panic bubbling into his demeanor.
Face slightly softening at the sight, Styx re-pocketed his phone and moved to sit beside Lucien on the couch. “He’s not that bad.”
The redhead gave Styx a nasty glare, a dishonest smile plastered on his face. The audacity to say such a thing when that wretched creature fucked up Lucien’s life so severely. “Oh, really?”
“Hey, I know you have a grudge against him, but-”
“Am I not supposed to have a grudge against the abomination that killed my fucking mother? That almost drained me?”
Styx furrowed his brows in thought, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t the best at comforting people (awful, really) but he recognized this as a moment where that kind of action was needed, so he did what he’s seen others do in these situations and placed a hand on Lucien’s shoulder.
He batted Styx’s hand away frantically. “Don’t touch me, asshole!”
“Sorry! I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do!” Styx internally cringed at himself. He gave Lucien a moment before trying to speak again. “But I promise that he’s not gonna hurt’cha again. ‘Kay?”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re with me, duh. He doesn’t feed on people I like.”
Lucien calmed down a tad at the knowledge that he’d make it out of here alive, a faint smile tinging his lips at the last bit of Styx’s words. It was clear he wasn’t looking forward to the future meeting regardless, though. “Got it…”
“...I mean. I do sometimes, though,” Styx continued.
“Sometimes what?”
“Feed on people I like.”
No fucking way he’s a vampire. There were no fangs in sight. “You’re…?”
“A half-breed.” The words came out of Styx’s mouth faster than he intended them to. “Drinks are optional for me,” he shrugged. “What can I say? Blood is yummy, or whatever.”
“Ah.” Lucien wearily eyed him with a nod.
“I’m not gonna drink from ya’, lil’ hunter…” he paused “...unless you want me to.”
“Now why in the hell would I-”
“Because y’smell really fucking good right now and it’s been nagging at me the entire time we’ve been here, so can you please consider my offer because holy shit.” Styx’s words came out breathily, unable to hide his intention for bringing up his species in the first place any longer.
Lucien’s brows raised at the near-desperate mannerisms displayed in front of him. “I’ve almost been drained once before, dude. I’m not risking that shit again.”
“Half. Breed.” Styx emphasized the words. “I don’t drink much.”
Eyes lingering on the floor, Lucien considered his offer for a minute. I guess he did owe the boy something for getting them stuck there in the first place… “Fine. Just not the neck.”
“Noted.” Styx’s eyes flickered at the agreement, frantically shifting to face Lucien from beside him on the couch, hand raised. “Gimme one of your stakes.” He rephrased his command when he realized that it sounded more violent than anticipated with the way Lucien didn’t move. “...To draw blood with.”
Making a sound of understanding, Lucien lifted up his spiked belt chain to Styx who took it. He attempted to move Lucien’s wristbands aside before the hunter suddenly yanked his hand away. “Not there, either.”
Styx’s lips parted in realization, now getting why he wore thick bracelets covering the entirety of his wrists. It wasn’t just part of his fashion, it was to hide something more personal. Styx’s face softened. “I’m not gonna judge.”
“Yeah, but, just–” Lucien removed his fingerless glove, offering his bare hand out by the palm. “Here.”
Nodding, Styx steadily held Lucien’s wrist with one arm while the other brought the stake up to his palm near the thumb. He lightly dragged the thing across Lucien’s flesh, crimson blood seeping from the cut. Lucien’s eyes flickered from his palm to Styx’s face with a mixture of fascination and concern. He’d been through this before and it didn’t go well. There was a more promising afterlook under these circumstances though and he felt like he could trust Styx in a way. He had only just met the boy, but he didn’t seem so bad even when Lucien had nearly killed him. He definitely seemed better than who his father supposedly was.
Styx’s eyes were hungrily glued to the fluid for a moment before he forced his eyes off the stuff, glancing back up at the other for approval before he drank. Lucien gave a vague smile, and he took that as a green light. Not a second was wasted as he swooped down to connect his tongue with Lucien’s wound, who squirmed at the unfamiliar sensation of Styx’s wet muscle sliding along his hand, though he didn’t pull away.
Gods above and below, he tasted so much better than Styx had thought.
Eyes snapped shut as he savored the horribly delectable taste, Styx closed his lips around the cut, muffling a pleasured curse. Lucien’s jaw went slack, a faint whimper escaping him at the stinging pain. His hand tensed, fingers curling inwards until Styx dropped Lucien’s stake, bringing his now-free arm to rest on the redhead’s knee in a reassuring notion. No complaints were made at the physical contact this time around.
Styx continued to feed–sip, really–for another minute or so until a loud ‘beep!’ by the vault’s entrance caused the two to flinch, disengaging from one another. The door swung open, revealing a morally dreaded figure with a heaving chest.
Fuck. Why now?
His mouth was coated in blood, the stuff dripping down his lilac chin. It would’ve matched Styx’s own red-stained lips if it wasn’t on such a drastic, animal-like level.
“Having fun in here?” The vampire amusedly spoke to his son as he caught his breath. Styx judgingly looked at his gorey face. “You yourself, goddamn! The hell happened?”
“I needed access somehow.” He showingly held up a blood-coated keycard between his pointer and index fingers. Styx nodded with raised eyebrows, unshaken by the fact that his father murdered only seconds ago just to get in the vault. Lucien however was in fact shaken, curling his arm into his chest at the sight, palm facing inwards. Poor boy looked fucking horrified.
The vampire glanced over at Lucien, face flickering with recognition as he locked eyes with him. “You changed your hair…”
“It reminds me of my mother,” Lucien spat with disdain. The other had no words but was visibly holding back some kind of argument. He decided against saying anything, but instead unclipped a mask from his belt and pressed it to his face, not caring about the blood hiding beneath it. He secured it around the back of his head, an obvious attempt to display he meant no harm with the way his fangs were hidden.
The hunter and vampire had a stare-off before Styx loudly sighed. “Guys–for the love of hell.” He abruptly stood, snatching up Lucien’s unwounded hand before dragging him out the vault door and into the pouring rain. He shoved past his father on the way, who made no protests.
“You have a ride home?” Styx slowed his pace, letting go of Lucien’s hand as they walked up the stairs side by side. The redhead happily took the chance to leave the vampire's vicinity.
“Yeah, my bike’s just right over h-” They got to the top of the stairs and reunited with road level, but Lucien’s bike was nowhere to be found. His face dropped. Styx’s lips pressed together.
“Highwire.”
“What?”
“The girl I was dea-” Styx glanced back at his father before changing up his words, “-the girl I was talkin’ to. Bunny hat, pink hair. She has a tendency to, um, steal things.”
“Fuck!” Lucien balled his damp hair in a fist “I just got it patched up too!”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll talk to her.”
The vampire strolled up behind them, surveying the situation but making sure to maintain distance from Lucien as he did so. “Where are you staying, hunter?”
“You’d like to know.”
“Fine, be like that then. I was just going to offer you a ride.”
“I’d rather run into the forest and take my chances with th-”
Styx cut in, visibly annoyed by their constant tension, yet understanding. “We’ll take it.”
The vampire nodded, tilting his head towards the other side of the road where an oddly luxurious motorcycle stood, a contrast to Lucien’s stolen one that looked like it was found in a junkyard. He didn’t pursue the two boys as they went over and situated themselves on the bike, but instead walked off a distance before dashing away quicker than the human eye could see to wherever he was before he was called for help.
Styx took the wheel, and Lucien climbed in behind him, relaxing at the knowledge that it was just him and the peculiar half-vampire guy–or whatever he was–again. Just them, nobody else.
“Am I gonna get an answer if I personally ask where you’re stayin’?”
Lucien scoffed. “I’d rather tell you. And yeah–I’m living by Slappy Shores.”
“Hell, that’s a long way out from here.”
“I was getting my bike repaired like I said. The mechanic here is better than any I’ve ever gone to. It’s worth the drive.”
Styx twisted his head around to face him. “Shit, you mean Jules?”
“Actually, that sounds about right, yeah. What, you know her or something?”
“She’s my half-sister.”
“No shit.”
“Yes shit! Here–how ‘bout this. It’s late. We go down to my place for the night and I’ll tell you about her when we’re there. Tomorrow I’ll get your bike back and you can go home. Cool with you?”
Nodding, Lucien agreed, not minding the idea of spending a night with this guy at all.
“Awesome,” Styx turned back to face the road and revved up the motorcycle. “Hang on!”
Lucien lightly laid his hands upon the others shoulders, now realizing he left his glove in the vault. Oh well, he had more at home.
He immediately regretted his poor grip once Styx took off and he nearly fell off the fucking vehicle at the reckless high speed that they were going at. He wrapped his arms around Styx’s waist without haste and held on tight, pressed against the boy's back like his life depended on it (which it partially did).
Styx amusedly giggled at this, wanting to look back at Lucien’s laughably scared expression for his horrible driving, but for once kept his eyes on the road so he wouldn’t get this one in a wreck as they drove off to his cabin for the night.