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Post by vincentbelmont on Jan 31, 2011 15:21:58 GMT -5
Vincent sat quietly in the corner, watching the young man on stage.
He sipped absently at his beer, wondering at the fact that bars and other such places tended to be the preferred hangouts for hunters. He didn’t mind so much, really, though the constant babble of voices tended to give him a headache after a while, and the smoke stung his eyes and made him cough. Lucky for him, though, most of the patrons here happened to be focused on the musician, and they conversation had dropped off to a few hushed voices here and there, and silence everywhere else.
Also, Vincent found himself to be quite a bit more comfortable in his “street clothes”: his old battered leather jacket, a pair of serviceable jeans, and a simple black t-shirt. He’d learned long ago that when coming to places like this, it was best not to be seen in his priest’s habit. People either got uncomfortable around him when he wore it, or they became downright hostile, doing everything in their power to give him a hard time.
Vincent returned his attention to the man on stage, though. He looked like your typical rocker, the priest thought, complete with tattoos and a hairstyle that Vincent himself found to be a bit ridiculous. Kids today, he thought to himself, shaking his head and smiling as he sipped his beer. If the information he’d received was correct, then this man was in fact a hunter, and if so, Vincent was very interested in speaking with him. He knew that he’d have to return to Detroit soon, to really begin setting up his safe house, but he wanted to have this opportunity to speak with yet another hunter, to learn everything he could.
When the man finished his current song and said that he’d be taking a short break, Vincent quickly got up from his seat and pushed his way through the crowd, making his way to the small stage. He got there just in time, as the man stepped down and prepared to head to the bar for a drink. Clearing his throat and gently tapping him on the arm, Vincent spoke softly.
“Excuse me? You’re name is Dillon, yes? And…” Lowering his voice even more, he went on, “And you’re a… a hunter?”
((TAG Dillon!))
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Post by Dillon Wynn Brice on Feb 24, 2011 16:30:47 GMT -5
Dillon stood on stage as he did most nights. The band behind him playing their hearts out as he sang his out. Whenever the bar would promote his band playing they would always see a massive influx of people the night of and it always made Dillon happy. He would get paid for doing what he loved and the bar would continue to hire him to play. It was a win win for both sides. As he was singing though he had a tendency to look around the room for people who stood out to him. They usually were other hunters but there was the occasional random person who just caught his eye and on this particular night there was just such a man.
Dillon had watched him since he walked in and at the moment he was just sitting there watching, sipping a beer, and giving off a vibe that he did not fit in at all. He looked like a typical bar goer sure but there is a difference between looking the part and actually being the part and Dillon could tell. He was good like that, plus the many bar shows he played clued him in on the subtle hints that one would give off here and there.
Dillon took his eyes off the man for a moment as he began to finish the song and as he hit the last note he held the mic up in typical fashion and just soaked in the applause. The crowd loved him and he loved them. It was one of the few times he actually felt like he could forget his life and just do what he loved. After a few seconds he nodded and smiled lightly. "Alright guys I'll be back in a few... Just gotta take a short break and let me voice rest. Be sure ta tip yer bartenders!"
As He hopped off stage he instantly started moving towards the bar when he heard a man clear his throat and tap his arm. He turned and saw the man whom he had noticed earlier and was a bit taken aback by him being there. He paused for a moment and looked at the man as he spoke but upon the last bit of the question his eyes went wide before narrowing slightly. "Aye.... What's it to ya... And it better be a good answer or we're not gonna be on good terms fer long..." |
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Post by vincentbelmont on Feb 24, 2011 19:42:22 GMT -5
Vincent smiled a bit at the man's brusque manner.
"My name is Vincent, and I'd be very interested in speaking with you for a bit, if you have the time," he told Dillon, extending his hand for a proper shake. Lowering his voice, he said, "Some... co-workers of yours told me about you, and where I may be able to find you. You see, I'm setting up a safe house in Detroit, and I'm trying to learn as much as I can from people like you."
Well, he was certainly getting better at these introductions. Vincent remembered how, at the beginning of this journey, he was always tripping over his words, and more than likely making an ass out of himself in the process. Now, though, at least he could make his point, and hope that the people he went to were receptive to his questions.
"I had my eyes opened, several months back," he continued, a solemn look on his face. "And I just can't go back to living that same old, hollow life I led before. Now that I know what's really out there, Dillon... I can't just ignore it. It's my duty to do what I can to help the people like you. The people who are really out there on the front lines, protecting us..."
Well, that was about all he had to say. The ball was in Dillon's court, now.
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Post by Dillon Wynn Brice on Mar 17, 2011 7:20:55 GMT -5
Dillon sighed as he made his way past Vincent and grabbed his waiting beer from the bar and took a quick swig. He turned back to the man, quickly thanking someone for commenting on his last song, and shook his head. He cracked his neck as he moved back within speaking distance and took another quick swig. "So ya say you've had yer eyes opened.... Well that's a shame really.... You'd have been better off blind like the rest of the world..." He couldn't help but think back to the days when he was blissfully ignorant of the things that went bump in the night. Before his parents were slaughtered by the same demons they'd been hunting for years. He sometimes wished he could go back to those days, but, sadly he could not.
He took another quick swig as he looked around the bar for a moment. He then found his gaze back on Vincent and he couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. "You feel like you have some sort of duty to those of us who have been 'lucky' enough to become hunters... You don't owe us anything.... We do it cause it's in our blood... We do it cause we can't forget what we've seen and we'll be damned if we let anyone else go through the same hell..." As he spoke he managed to keep his voice low but the emotion was clearly felt as his words fell upon the ears of Vincent.
"Aye, we're a crazy bunch... That's for damn sure... However we don't like draggin' civilians into the work we do... Let alone allow ya to just start puttin' yourself into the damn crossfire... While we love havin' places to rest our heads... We don't let normal people get involved if we can avoid it... Hell with the way you're talkin' you almost sound like some kinda priest..." With that Dillon took another swig of beer and watched the man. He was rather good at reading people and he hoped that he'd be able to gauge the man based on his response. |
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Post by vincentbelmont on Mar 18, 2011 17:56:55 GMT -5
Vincent smiled a bit, finding Dillon's straightforwardness refreshing.
"You're very perceptive," he told the younger man, chuckling a bit. "I am a priest, actually. Though its not something I usually advertise, as it puts some people on edge. Particularly, hunters like yourselves." Falling silent, Vincent accepted a bottle of beer from the bartender, taking a long drink and thinking about Dillon's other words.
"And," he finally said after another drink, "I have no intention of becoming a hunter, or of getting caught in the crossfire if I can help it. I only want to learn how to defend myself better, and get advice for what sort of things hunters expect from a good safehouse."
He watched Dillon closely as he drank, before speaking again.
"So, if it's not any trouble, I was hoping to be able to just talk to you. Get some pointers, find out what you might need in the future. All I want is to be able to help, Dillon. All I want is to do my part." He shook his head, laughing bitterly and taking another swig. "You and I both know that there's not any going back now. I'm in this for a the long hall, for good or ill, so I may as well learn how to accept it, and deal with it..."
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Post by Dillon Wynn Brice on May 3, 2011 21:01:26 GMT -5
Dillon could feel a headache forming and quickly downed the rest of his beer to try and fend it off for the time being. His left eye twitched a bit as his left hand clenched into a fist before finally releasing, a sigh following. "Listen padre... As much as I'd love ta have mi'self a place to hide every once in a while... You're better off just forgettin' everything and anything you've seen or heard..." He turned to the bar tender and snapped loudly, another beer following shortly after. He took a swig and turned to Vincent. "I admire ya wantin' to do something to help us crazy bastards but in all honesty... We'd much rather be left to our own devices and help our own if we have the chance... We keep civilians out of it for the very reason you're wantin' to get in..."
He sighed once more as he looked the priest over fully and he shook his head. The man had a good heart, he could tell. He admired what he wanted to do and would honestly love to tell him everything he could... The problem was he couldn't. He had sworn to himself and his late parents that he would never involve a civilian could he avoid it and so he couldn't, in good conscience, help Vincent get started. "Father... There are just some things I can't do... The best I can do... if you're so hell bent on startin' a safe house..." He sighed a moment as he thought. His parents would shoot him for this, of all the people to get into this... A bloody priest...
"If you want to set up a safe place... Harden the building as much as you can without people noticin'... Strengthen the foundation, the walls, especially the doors and windows... Set up salt barriers and other type of spiritual barriers." He paused a moment and went through a mental checklist before continuing. "You've got an advantage by bein' a priest and wanting to start this place in a church... Most things that hunters face tend to stay away from Holy ground so use that. Never, under any circumstances, let ANYONE defile that place or risk soiling it's Holy presence. Should you loose that advantage you'll have a hell of a time gettin' it back..." With that Dillon leaned on the bar and took another swig of beer. He had just hit Vincent over the head with a ton of information. Now he wanted to see how the priest would handle it. |
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Post by vincentbelmont on May 4, 2011 21:47:50 GMT -5
The priest could sense Dillon's frustration.
Deciding that remaining silent and giving the hunter a moment or two to compose himself, Vincent simply sipped his beer, watching the other man closely. Dillon wasn't the first hunter to seemingly have a problem with the idea of Vincent getting involved and, truthfully, the priest couldn't blame any of them. He knew that they did what they did so that people like him wouldn't have to get involved. What so many of them didn't seem to understand, though, was that sometimes things just happened, and there were casualties, so to speak. By that, he meant that you couldn't always protect the innocents out there and keep them from getting pulled into this life.
Vincent had to keep from smiling at Dillon's words when the man finally spoke, for he'd heard almost the exact same speech from several other hunters over the past few months. It amazed him, really, how so many of them felt the exact same way about things, though a lot of them had little to no contact with one another. It must just have been something that went with the job, Vincent figured.
Suddenly, much to Vincent's surprise, Dillon began quickly reciting a list of things that the priest's safe-house should have. Having nothing on hand to write with, Vincent began making mental notes of everything Dillon mentioned, some of which had been gone over by other hunters, and some of which was actually quite new to him. All in all, it was a wealth of useful information.
Nodding, the priest said, "Excellent. This is all very helpful, Dillon. So, that's quite a bit about how to secure the building and make it safe, but what about you guys? The hunters? What sorts of things might you expect, or need?"
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