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-NAN FLANAGAN-
“That tastes like shit.”
And that was it.
The result of a ten year project, a three billion dollar endeavour…apparently tasted like shit.
Mr Yakonomo sighed, but was not completely perturbed. He had been pre-warned about Nan Flanagan. She was a woman who got the pleasantries out of the way rather quickly.
She looked at the bottle in distain.
“Jesus Christ!” she said in angry disbelief. “I might as well have dumped a pottle of piss down my throat!”
Rude.
“It…fulfils all the nutritional needs of a vampire,” began Mr Yakonomo hopefully. “A good premise for your mainstreaming, no?”
“No,” shot back Ms Flanagan angrily. “Because no vampire in their right mind is going to drink it.”
She took in a sharp breath to steel herself.
“Mr Yakonomo,” she began with a tired, though angry, huff. “The vampire population is not as…conscientious as the human one. Mainstreaming is an unpopular idea to begin with but with this…”
She picked up the bottle with disgust with just two fingers as though it really were shit. She shook her head.
“…Well I certainly won’t be drinking it,” she said, batting her eyelids loftily.
“But Ms Flanagan, perhaps if you-“
“How am I going to sell that?” she interrupted aggressively. “How am I going to... persuade other vampires that drinking that is better than being silvered. Or going hungry. Or drinking the real 'true blood'?”
She gave a dismissive wave in the direction of the human. He wasn’t … entirely comfortable with this vampire.
“We are not as human as you seem to think,” she said condescendingly.
Mr Yakonomo did in fact see the difference. This woman was a vampire diplomat.
“Well,” he tentatively started. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Make it better!” said Flanagan.
What an utterly moronic question!
“But we can’t!” Yakonomo spluttered. “That is exactly the composition of human blood!”
The ‘not my problem’ was evident on Nan Flanagan’s face.
She leaned in close.
“Make. It. Better,” she said quietly, her angrily flashing eyes adding the ‘or else.’
-BILL-
He took a sip as Nan watched him intently. He savoured it.
“Perhaps…an acquired taste,” he said tactfully.
Yeah, it was bad.
TruBlood had a kind of sour wateriness that human blood had never managed to achieve.
“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to acquire it,” said Nan, with quite a twisted smile. “Because this is the future.”
Bill took another mouthful. The second was actually worse.
“A little more…sophisticated than what I’m used to,” he offered, trying to stop his face puckering in disgust.
Just because he felt like he wanted to throw up didn’t mean he shouldn’t be polite to a lady.
“Oh, I’m sure,” said the ‘lady’ with a smirk.
This man was born in Louisiana.
Bill coughed a little.
“It does, er…”
He searched for the diplomatic words he needed.
“Tickle the tastebuds in a certain way. Perhaps-”
“Yeah, I know,” interrupted Nan, gesturing meaningfully to the TruBlood samples that she had brought with her. “It’s shit. But nobody else yet knows.”
She stalked forwards.
“So from now on, Bill Compton drinks TruBlood," she whispered with an edge of menace. "And Bill Compton is very happy about that. As per our agreement.”
“Understood,” nodded Bill.
His lust for a position in the monarchy outstripped that even for human blood.
“Good,” smiled Nan.
She knew she had him by the balls.
“And this is yours,” she said briskly, dumping the case of synthetic blood on the floor on her way out. “Don’t drink it all at once."
-HER MAJESTY, QUEEN SOPHIE-ANNE OF LOUISIANA-
“Hadley!” cried Sophie-Anne, face screwed up with suffering. “Hadley! I need you to take the taste away!”
After spitting the TruBlood straight out and back into her cocktail glass, Sophie-Anne still hadn’t ridded herself of the awful taste.
She reached out wildly for her human, feeling a little tearful.
She bit Hadley’s wrist gladly and sighed in contentment as the sour taste was removed from her mouth.
“Mmm,” she said when she had finished. “Tastes even better now!”
After Hadley had returned the smile, Sophie-Anne became the Queen again.
“Guards!” she called.
Some of her bodyguards mooched into the opulent room. Sophie-Anne regarded them regally.
“I want you to remove this,” she gestured carelessly to the spilt blood on the floor and shards of broken glass (she was rather fond of hurling things).
“It’s yucky,” she explained, as though they had any choice in their obedience to her.
Silently, they nodded and, handling the TruBlood like a biohazard, they cleansed the room of the scent of progress.
Sophie-Anne sighed happily. The only thing from Japan that she liked was the silk, and apart from that she wasn’t interested. And she wouldn’t be mainstreaming, no way.
She glanced down at precious Hadley.
No way at all.
-ERIC AND PAM-
“Well,” said Eric dryly, saluting Pam sarcastically with his bottle. “Here’s to the future.”
In synchrony, maker and progeny took a sip, and in synchrony the grimaces appeared on their faces.
“Fuck,” said Pam. “That … was disgustin’”
“What are you talking about?” said Eric in the silky voice that made it hard to know if he was joking or not. “It’s delicious.”
To demonstrate his point, he drank a little more.
“Stop!” Pam squeezed her eyes shut. “Eric, please! I can’t watch you drink that!”
Eric stopped suddenly as the aftertaste hit him.
“Pamela,” he said calmly. “Would you please pass me a bucket.”
Quick as a flash, the bucket propping the door open was in Eric’s hands and, in a strangely lady-like way, he allowed the TruBlood to dribble back out of his mouth like a baby that didn’t like his mushy food.
“Eric, really?” said Pam with a cocked eyebrow.
“That really is very unpleasant,” he said, still tipped over the bucket as the blood poured from his mouth.
After spitting the last of it out, he angrily threw his half-empty bottle in the bloody bucket.
“I should take my sword to it,” he said, swearing an eternal grudge against the rancid drink.
“Oh, there’s no need for that,” said Pam as she swept forwards and seized the box of TruBloods.
She stormed out of the door and Eric smiled as he heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass from the basement. They wouldn’t be mainstreaming just yet.
Pam soon appeared looking pleased with herself. What problem couldn't be solved by throwing it in the dungeon?
“So,” she said, hand on her hip. “Where were we?”
-JESS-
“…An I ain’t drinkin’ it.”
Jess pouted at Bill. What an asshole! He turns her into a vampire and makes her drink shit!
“Jessica,” pleaded Bill. “This is the way we must live. All vampires drink TruBlood.”
Jess huffed.
“Really Bill?” she said. “Now I ain’t too old but even I know that is a front. It smells…”
Jess’s undead stomach rolled.
“I wanna go back to Fangtasia!” she stormed, kicking the table.
“Well I would very much like you to stay here,” said Bill kindly. “You are my progeny and I would like the opportunity to take care of you.”
Jess’s lip curled in disgust.
“Er, creepy much?” she asked.
“Well,” chuckled Bill. “I am a vampire, as are you…”
He head out the bottle to Jess hopefully.
She shook her head, eyes closed and lips pursed.
Damn these baby vamps!
“Jessica,” said Bill, trying to keep his cool. “As your maker I strongly suggest that you at least try it. You can’t say you don't like something until you try it.”
He grinned.
Jess glared, but she did slowly lift the bottle to her lips and drink. She spluttlered, looking accusingly at Bill. That was awful!
“Bill!” she cried angrily. “What the…!”
-TARA-
“…Fuck Pam!” shouted Tara. “What? You tryin’ to kill me again? That shit ain’t drinkable.”
Pam rolled her eyes, but she did agree.
“Stop complainin’ junior,” she said silkily. “Vampires don’t breastfeed.”
“Fuckin’ bitch,” Tara muttered.
“That ‘fuckin’ bitch’ is also your maker,” said Pam. “So drink.”
“Only if you do,” countered Tara.
This threw Pam for a moment, but only a moment. They were equally as stubborn.
“Fine,” she drawled, and tried to look careless as she took the bottle out of Tara’s hand and took a… sip.
“There,” said Pam, a little more thickly than usual. “Delicious. Now, I believe we had a deal?”
Tara folded her arms.
“Pam?” she asked. “Why are you doin’ this to me? Do ya regret turnin’ me, is that it?”
Pam glared.
“Why,” she said nastily. “Did I hurt your feelin’s?”
She pushed the bottle towards Tara.
Tara just glared.
Pam sighed.
“No, I do not regret changin’ you,” she said dryly. “Now drink.”
Tara took the bottle and took another laboured mouthful.
“But after we’ll get dessert,” said Pam, looking at her progeny with a shadow of a smile.
-STEVE NEWLIN-
“Well, er…”
Steve grinned with a kind of nervous sheepishness at the amassed scientists.
“You know I…Y’all don’t seem to have the flavour I like so…”
“You’d rather starve?” asked one of the more senior officers at Governor Burell’s camp.
“Well,” laughed Steve with some return to his normal bubbliness. “I wouldn’t say that…just…”
He looked at the bottle of TruBlood. He’d never strictly tasted it and the reviews of the drink had been, well, blunt. And unaffectionate.
“Could y’all warm it up?” he asked hopefully.
The blonde woman in the corner, partially obscured by shadow, gave the tiniest shake of he head. No, he’d have it cold. Cold was how he’d left her.
Steve saw this and offered the smallest of tentative waves to his ex-wife. It was not returned.
“…Al…righty then…” said Steve haltingly and, seeing no alternative, lifted the bottle to his lips.
He inhaled sharply.
“Oooh, gosh darn it that is…that is fresh.”
The gathered humans smirked at the look on Steve’s boyish face. He really wasn’t a hard vampire to torture.
“Maybe…” he asked through watering eyes. “I could get a straw?”