Glancing down into the sink, I
watched the water overflow the pot and drench the sleeve of my
robe.
With a sigh of frustration, I snapped off the tap and realized it was going to bethat kind of day. Dumping a bit of the water out into the sink first, I poured the remainder into Mr. Coffee. Sliding the pot back onto the warmer, I started the search for filters, and the all-important coffee. Fairly certain I had some, I pulled open cabinet after cabinet until I spotted a red and orange can. Another quick rummage proved I had no filters. Being a student of 80's television icon MacGyver, I used the next best thing: a couple of paper towels and scotch tape. Dropping a couple of heaping scoops of coffee into my makeshift filter, and reasonably satisfied it would work, I turned it on and headed toward the living room. Pushing a pile of dirty clothes onto the floor, I crumbled into my couch. It had certainly seen better days, as had everything in my apartment. Most Vampires were snobs when it came to decorating their lairs. They wanted the most stylish furniture, the most lavish decorations, and the latest technology with which to surround themselves. I seemed to be the exception to the rule. I just didn't care. The couch was old, but it was comfortable. Propping my feet up on an equally old end table, I listened to the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Pressing my knuckle to my bottom lip, I started to chew on the inside. Something was stuck in my craw. It didn't seem possible, yet I kept coming back to it every time I ran the information in my head: Brimstone was covering something up, perhaps its own tracks? It was the only solution that fit the puzzle.But then again, why did it seem so far-fetched? It was an organization swathed in deceit and disinformation. Brimstone was surreptitious by nature and its mandate was to keep the inhuman population a secret from humans.Why was it so hard to believe it was doing something nefarious right under my nose?
Because even though Brimstone may be a cloak-and-dagger operation, it was a good operation. It policed, served, and took care of Inhumans. It wasn't like if a Werewolf caught the flu, it could go to the doctor. That could raise too many questions. Suppose the doctor wanted to take a blood sample? How would the wolf explain the unique characteristics of his blood and body? It was only a hop in logic from there to find the Werewolf in a laboratory being dissected. Personally, that wasn't how I wanted to spend the rest of my eternity. There was only one place for Inhumans to turn: Brimstone. It was all we had. I was treading a dangerous path. If I didn't find the evidence to support my claim, I was facing dismissal, and possible death. But if I found evidence that Brimstone was killing Inhumans, I was facing certain death. Either way, things didn't look good for me. A loud knock on my front door startled me. Pulling my robe tightly around me, I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. A smile crossed my lips. Pulling open the door, I stepped aside to allow the Werewolf to enter.
Toby looked me over. An odd look of bemusement dawned on his face. I think the robe threw him off. “It's a good thing one of us is trying to get our suspensions overturned." "I just woke up,” I growled. I pointed to myself. “Vampire, remember? Nocturnal? Ring a bell?" Toby laughed. He started to step inside, but hesitated. “Do I need permission or something like that?" I shook my head. “It's Vampires who need permission to enter your home, not vice versa. And anyway, that's an old wives tale. Didn't they teach you anything in Seeker school?" "Take it up with my teacher,” he jabbed.
With a sigh of frustration, I snapped off the tap and realized it was going to bethat kind of day. Dumping a bit of the water out into the sink first, I poured the remainder into Mr. Coffee. Sliding the pot back onto the warmer, I started the search for filters, and the all-important coffee. Fairly certain I had some, I pulled open cabinet after cabinet until I spotted a red and orange can. Another quick rummage proved I had no filters. Being a student of 80's television icon MacGyver, I used the next best thing: a couple of paper towels and scotch tape. Dropping a couple of heaping scoops of coffee into my makeshift filter, and reasonably satisfied it would work, I turned it on and headed toward the living room. Pushing a pile of dirty clothes onto the floor, I crumbled into my couch. It had certainly seen better days, as had everything in my apartment. Most Vampires were snobs when it came to decorating their lairs. They wanted the most stylish furniture, the most lavish decorations, and the latest technology with which to surround themselves. I seemed to be the exception to the rule. I just didn't care. The couch was old, but it was comfortable. Propping my feet up on an equally old end table, I listened to the coffee brewing in the kitchen. Pressing my knuckle to my bottom lip, I started to chew on the inside. Something was stuck in my craw. It didn't seem possible, yet I kept coming back to it every time I ran the information in my head: Brimstone was covering something up, perhaps its own tracks? It was the only solution that fit the puzzle.But then again, why did it seem so far-fetched? It was an organization swathed in deceit and disinformation. Brimstone was surreptitious by nature and its mandate was to keep the inhuman population a secret from humans.Why was it so hard to believe it was doing something nefarious right under my nose?
Because even though Brimstone may be a cloak-and-dagger operation, it was a good operation. It policed, served, and took care of Inhumans. It wasn't like if a Werewolf caught the flu, it could go to the doctor. That could raise too many questions. Suppose the doctor wanted to take a blood sample? How would the wolf explain the unique characteristics of his blood and body? It was only a hop in logic from there to find the Werewolf in a laboratory being dissected. Personally, that wasn't how I wanted to spend the rest of my eternity. There was only one place for Inhumans to turn: Brimstone. It was all we had. I was treading a dangerous path. If I didn't find the evidence to support my claim, I was facing dismissal, and possible death. But if I found evidence that Brimstone was killing Inhumans, I was facing certain death. Either way, things didn't look good for me. A loud knock on my front door startled me. Pulling my robe tightly around me, I walked to the door and peered through the peephole. A smile crossed my lips. Pulling open the door, I stepped aside to allow the Werewolf to enter.
Toby looked me over. An odd look of bemusement dawned on his face. I think the robe threw him off. “It's a good thing one of us is trying to get our suspensions overturned." "I just woke up,” I growled. I pointed to myself. “Vampire, remember? Nocturnal? Ring a bell?" Toby laughed. He started to step inside, but hesitated. “Do I need permission or something like that?" I shook my head. “It's Vampires who need permission to enter your home, not vice versa. And anyway, that's an old wives tale. Didn't they teach you anything in Seeker school?" "Take it up with my teacher,” he jabbed.