Chapter Text
The crowd was roaring, a swell of noise that settled in Scott’s unbeaten heart, the power of it crawling through unused veins and making him feel heady with the emotion.
He was singing, the lyrics amplified a hundred-fold, filling the stadium, and the beat of the drums and the riff of the guitar melted together into a blend that drove the concert crazy.
Look at all these people. He thought, looking out across the sea of screaming and dancing bodies. All here for us. The knowledge widened the sharp-toothed grin on his face as he belted out the next verse, flashing smiles and sending winks to his audience.
For a first concert in the big stadium, it had clearly been a massive success. Tickets had sold out within days, and it was all people talked about on social media. Scott had always been one to dream big, but even he couldn’t have prepared for the overwhelming positive reception to what started out as an impulsively made band. Shelby and Drift had freaked out considerably more, however, and it’d taken many days of convincing before they even agreed to start having proper gigs.
He finished singing the final note and the girls took their hands off the instruments, the three of them walked together to the front of the stage, linking arms and executing perfect bows, amidst deafening applause. He could hear the calls for an encore. And an encore they would have.
But not without building a little suspense.
They turned and strutted off, Scott’s heels clicking inaudibly on the floor, iconic white hair shining in the spotlights. Backstage it was decidedly less fancy, the polished wood floor changed to carpet, and people rushed around, giving instructions and handing water bottles to the performers. Scott accepted his with a gracious nod, but did not drink. He didn’t have long before he’d have to return for the final song of the night, and he fancied fresh air.
Leaving the girls behind, he continued down the hallway, passing more stagecrew, who stepped aside politely to let him pass, and reached the fire door beside the costume room. Outside it was refreshingly chilly, with a slight breeze that blew down the back alley.
He leaned back against the stone wall, careful to not crumple or dirty his shirt, and pulled a cigarette from a pocket. He lit it smoothly and took a careful drag, letting the smoke out slowly and watching it twist and dissipate in the dark. It was quiet out here, the crowd barely audible through the walls. Not that he’d minded the noise. All those people, cheering and singing because of him? The powertrip he got from that was unmatched.
There was the sound of footsteps from down the alley, and he turned his head to see the silhouette of a bulky figure making their way down the path. They didn’t seem to have spotted him, but he took a sidestep closer to the door anyhow, so that he could slip inside should they get too close. The figure had stopped, though, letting out a low whistle that surely wouldn’t have been audible to most people.
Scott suddenly registered the rustle of fabric on his other side, and whipped around just in time to be socked in the face, a fist connecting painfully with his cheek. He could feel blood in his mouth. He’d bitten his tongue. Even with Scott’s excellent night vision, he couldn’t make out who was attacking him. They struck again, fingers curled to scratch, and he caught a glimpse of long claws.
He twisted away just in the nick of time, hearing those claws scrape against the wall, leaving gouge marks in the stone. This wasn’t a normal fight. These weren’t normal people. He had to change the way he faced this battle.
The first silhouette had reached them, backing him into the door. Scott reached behind himself and pushed at it, he had a show to get back to! But it didn’t budge, it’d locked from the inside. Fuck. Time to remember some old skills.
He dropped his cigarette, which went out with a curl of smoke, and kicked back at the one who’d punched him, feeling the sharp toe of his heels connect with a shin. There was a grunt of pain, but he had no time to celebrate before the other person was lunging at him, claws outstretched. He ducked down quickly, slipping past the attacker and grabbing their neck from behind, ready to snap it.
A heavy body crashed into him, forcing him to stumble back and steady himself, throwing a punch slightly wildly and missing. The attacker he grabbed had recovered quickly, and began to advance, trapping him again.
Think, Scott, think!
It’d been so long since he’d had to fight. So many centuries of preying on unsuspecting victims, his last proper battle at the Goldsmith Castle was but a distant memory.
“Wait!” He threw his hands up, making the two approaching pause, confusion in their postures. They clearly weren’t used to getting orders from an opponent.
“Just- wait. Why are you doing this? Why are we fighting? Can’t we work together?” He laced his words with an almost seductive value. You trust me. You like me. He commanded them in his mind, hoping that his ability would work on them.
But neither of them reacted.
“You’ve been here too long, Scott Goldsmith.” One of them hissed, baring sharp fangs at him in a way that felt taunting.
“What?” He opened his mouth in confusion, but before he could get out any more words, There was the bang of a gunshot. The woman who’d spoke jolted, eyes filling with horror before they went blank, lifeless. She slumped to the ground.
The second figure screamed, spinning around to see where the shot had come from, but before they could move any more, a second bang rang out, and he slumped just the same.
Scott’s breath was heaving in his chest (an old habit). He was still pressed against the wall, the cold seeping through his thin blouse. Strands of white hair drifted over his eyes, they’d come loose from his hairdo in the struggle. His blue eyes travelled down the alley, and locked onto a third silhouette.
They tilted their head at Scott, and lowered the gun after a moment’s deliberation, tucking it into a pocket in their long coat and hurrying towards him.
“Are you alright?” They asked, coming into focus as they stopped before Scott. He had wavy, shoulder length hair, one side dyed white, the other jet black. His eyes and clothing were dark, blending into the shadows.
“Uh,” Scott hesitated, still admittedly shaken from the unexpected violence. He touched his cheek, feeling the tender flesh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” The man pressed, eyes raking over Scott’s body. “They didn’t bite you?”
“Bite me?” Scott repeated dumbly, before realizing what the stranger was talking about. Then it clicked for him. This man, this human (for he was undoubtedly human), knew about them.
“No, no, they didn’t bite me.” He said quietly.
“Good.” The man ran a hand through his hair. “I apologize for any distress, I’ve been tracking those two all evening.”
“Well, thanks for saving me.” Scott said. He was being genuine, but bile still rose in his throat at the thanks. It felt wrong, to congratulate a human for killing another of his kin. Even if said kin had been trying to kill him.
“All part of the job.” The other replied evenly, wiping his gloves on his cloak. “Forgive me but, you look a lot… fancier… than the usual targets.”
Scott blinked. “You don’t- you don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?”
Scott was taken aback. It felt like everybody in New York knew him. Apparently not.
“I suppose not. I should… get back to the concert. I’m already late.”
The man tilted his head at him. “You’re performing?”
“Well, yeah.” He’d never had to explain that he was a music artist to anybody. This felt so strange.
“And you don’t have a bodyguard?”
“.. No?”
The man let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look man, don’t you think that maybe you should? You’re clearly someone famous, and after what just happened…”
Scott looked down at the bodies beside them. Maybe the stranger had a point. If I was more prepared I could’ve beaten them. But he couldn’t say that.
“I suppose you could have a point. I really gotta go, though.” He sidled back towards the fire escape, treading on his cigarette as he did so.
The man was silent for a moment, as Scott knocked sharply on the door. Then he reached into another pocket and pulled out a business card, passing it to Scott with two gloved fingers. The name Abolish was printed on it with neat stencil, as well as a number.
“Call me if you get into trouble again.”
“Will do.” Scott took the card and tucked it away, swearing to himself that he never would.
There was a scraping of bolts, and the door swung forward. Scott stepped back quickly to avoid being hit.
Drift and Shelby stood on the other side, still weaning their spotless costumes.
“Scott! Where have you been? The crowd’s waiting!” Scott allowed himself to be tugged inside, glancing back at the alley before the door was shut. It was empty.
“There’s blood on your face!” Shelby pressed a cold finger to his cheek, which stung at the touch.
“It's nothing that’ll be noticed on stage.” Scott promised them tightly, brushing away her hand and continuing down the hall.
“Fuck the stage, are you alright?” Drift pressed, stopping in front of him and forcing him to look at her.
“I’ll explain later.” He said with a weary sigh. “Really.” He added at her skeptical face.
“Fine.” She stepped aside, letting Scott brush past, smoothing down his hair and swatting off the dirt on his clothing. The sounds of the whispering and talking crowd were growing louder. He paused just behind the door, the other two behind him.
Pull yourself together, Scott. You’ve got a show to perform.