They didn't care. No one did.
Humans, with rare exceptions, are fairly oblivious creatures. They
claim to
have open minds, but in reality are so set in their ways that they wouldn't notice an Inhuman unless it had a huge, blinking sign overhead advertising it. And they liked it that way. Humans felt they had a pretty good grasp on the world. They felt they knew how it ticked. Boy, were they in for a shock.
It was getting harder and harder to hide. Inhumans would eventually be revealed, but Brimstone was working hard to prevent that. With modern science and technology, humans were closer to understanding the truth of their universe: that they understood nothing. The discovery was almost inevitable at this point. But at the moment, thankfully, the paranormal world was still the domain of crackpots and ghost hunting plumbers. I had no intention of being poked and prodded in a laboratory as they tried to unlock the keys of immortality or my perfect health.
Slithering through the casino floor, I made my way around craps tables, slot machines, and overworked, underdressed cocktail waitresses. The Aztec had beautiful waitresses, but not the most exquisite in Las Vegas. That distinction belonged to the Mandalay Bay. Those women were gorgeous. Even I felt inadequate beside them.
A blue neon representation of a plumed serpent advertised my objective. It was Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent deity of ancient Mesoamerica. The muffled thump of subwoofers could be heard through the walls. This was Club Toltec, one of those trendy destinations in Vegas that smugly turned away the common folk. Aztec styled hieroglyphs ran high up the surrounding walls while a single burly human in a dark blazer worked the door. Red velvet ropes stretched away from the entrance and around a corner corralling a line of hopefuls waiting to get inside. The club enforced a strict dress code and occupancy limit. Unlike some of the other Vegas nightclubs, they wouldn't pack people in like sardines. Skipping the line, I walked right up to the doorman. He was a Samoan male, probably in his early thirties, and built like a brick house. A pair of dark glasses clung to his nose while his dreadlocked hair spilled down around his face. He looked like he could easily handle anyone who caused trouble, but I wasn't just anyone.
He didn't even glance at me as he continued to hold the line at bay. “Back of the line, lady." I stood my ground. Placing my hands on my hips, I waited until he turned his attention toward me. I stared, unblinking, at him. I was calm and collected. Taking a step back from the line, the massive man slowly turned and met my gaze. He pulled his sunglasses off. His eyes held a mixture of confusion and frustration. He was fighting me. “The line,” he breathed, having trouble articulating his thoughts. “You really need to stand in line.” He tried to look away.
I didn't move. He was almost mine.
His stare caught mine again. “I can't,” he stammered. “I can't make exceptions." He was strong-willed. Not that it mattered, but good for him. I continued to silently stare. He didn't realize it, but the battle was already over. I watched his eyes glaze slightly. His stare locked on me, unable to look at away. He was finished. He had put up a good fight, but his will was mine now. Or as the younger Vampires liked to say, he was under mythrall . I personally preferred calling it thewhammy . Sounded more fun that way, less devious.
have open minds, but in reality are so set in their ways that they wouldn't notice an Inhuman unless it had a huge, blinking sign overhead advertising it. And they liked it that way. Humans felt they had a pretty good grasp on the world. They felt they knew how it ticked. Boy, were they in for a shock.
It was getting harder and harder to hide. Inhumans would eventually be revealed, but Brimstone was working hard to prevent that. With modern science and technology, humans were closer to understanding the truth of their universe: that they understood nothing. The discovery was almost inevitable at this point. But at the moment, thankfully, the paranormal world was still the domain of crackpots and ghost hunting plumbers. I had no intention of being poked and prodded in a laboratory as they tried to unlock the keys of immortality or my perfect health.
Slithering through the casino floor, I made my way around craps tables, slot machines, and overworked, underdressed cocktail waitresses. The Aztec had beautiful waitresses, but not the most exquisite in Las Vegas. That distinction belonged to the Mandalay Bay. Those women were gorgeous. Even I felt inadequate beside them.
A blue neon representation of a plumed serpent advertised my objective. It was Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent deity of ancient Mesoamerica. The muffled thump of subwoofers could be heard through the walls. This was Club Toltec, one of those trendy destinations in Vegas that smugly turned away the common folk. Aztec styled hieroglyphs ran high up the surrounding walls while a single burly human in a dark blazer worked the door. Red velvet ropes stretched away from the entrance and around a corner corralling a line of hopefuls waiting to get inside. The club enforced a strict dress code and occupancy limit. Unlike some of the other Vegas nightclubs, they wouldn't pack people in like sardines. Skipping the line, I walked right up to the doorman. He was a Samoan male, probably in his early thirties, and built like a brick house. A pair of dark glasses clung to his nose while his dreadlocked hair spilled down around his face. He looked like he could easily handle anyone who caused trouble, but I wasn't just anyone.
He didn't even glance at me as he continued to hold the line at bay. “Back of the line, lady." I stood my ground. Placing my hands on my hips, I waited until he turned his attention toward me. I stared, unblinking, at him. I was calm and collected. Taking a step back from the line, the massive man slowly turned and met my gaze. He pulled his sunglasses off. His eyes held a mixture of confusion and frustration. He was fighting me. “The line,” he breathed, having trouble articulating his thoughts. “You really need to stand in line.” He tried to look away.
I didn't move. He was almost mine.
His stare caught mine again. “I can't,” he stammered. “I can't make exceptions." He was strong-willed. Not that it mattered, but good for him. I continued to silently stare. He didn't realize it, but the battle was already over. I watched his eyes glaze slightly. His stare locked on me, unable to look at away. He was finished. He had put up a good fight, but his will was mine now. Or as the younger Vampires liked to say, he was under mythrall . I personally preferred calling it thewhammy . Sounded more fun that way, less devious.