Index was once a small and close-knit community, but the town located on the western side of Washington state has grown in recent years beyond anyone's expectations. It is the ideal place for those who work in Seattle but can't afford the city's high real estate prices, and for others the natural beauty attracts them to the town. And Index truly is a beautiful place - surrounded by thick evergreen trees, tall mountains and glistening rivers and lakes. While weather is typically rainy with overcast skies even this does nothing to take away from the beauty of the town, and it is only highlighted further when the heavy snow graces the town and caps the mountains in winter. To many, Index would seem like a paradise. And yet lurking beneath this visual beauty there is more to this town than anyone might ever imagine...

Current Time in Index, Washington:
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 [Private] Explosive Private Parts

[Private] Explosive Private Parts

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[Private] Explosive Private Parts

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Sun Apr 30, 2017 10:03 pm

Thread Details
Security Checkpoint Outside Ogma Industries | Overcast Skies | 5:15 am

Skykomish River Waterfront Bed & Breakfast.
A Historic Victorian Manor Owned by the Sinclair Family With Private Cabins Spread Throughout a 100-Acre Lot.

Lord I think my slimy eyeballs are rolling around in my cleavage somewhere after a mighty whoosh just sliced over me like a guillotine. I stared wide-eyed at a platinum chandelier dangling shimmering icicles that swung around in a smear of twinkling hues and showered dust over a million-dollar parlor room like a goddamn ceiling fan thanks to a stampede thundering across the ceiling. Damn it. My snuggly, under the warm embrace of a velvet blanket, on a loveseat sinking into the shape of my figure, raindrops splashing on the rooftop snooze was ruined by the same idiot who always ruins it. Goddamn Bruno. He damn well did it on purpose. I bet if I asked him he'd say he was moving furniture, the same goddamn piece of furniture he’s always moving when I inquire about the safari migrating through the master bedroom. Next time I’ll give him my damn foot to move around his ass.

A percussion of rainfall smacked against the cathedral-like windows, rainwater drenched the thick vines crawling over the massive windowpanes, with every flash of thunder their contorted bodies shone through the silken curtains puddling onto the mahogany floorboards. A soft blue glow slipped through the billowing drapes and made the ornate wainscoting gleam a rich cherry. Not too long ago we found a strange Home Owner’s Manual buried inside the drawer of a chestnut bureau featuring a foldable writing surface. According to this book a man with a bushy beard constantly tickling his chest sat upon a wooden stump banging a chisel down each elaborate strip of paneling until his knuckles bled. I could almost see his broad-shouldered silhouette amidst the shadows stretched up the walls and it swept an artic frost down my calves.

A gleaming coffee table crouched in all its handcrafted charm before a majestic stone fireplace where glossy picture frames stood clustered upon its wooden mantel. According to Page 19 of the Manual a cast-iron hearth fence should stand before the firebox all hours of the day (especially after a naughty flame chewed through the first home owner's skirt and showed her bloomers to the mayor). According to Page 31 this coffee table was carved out of an oak tree 200 years ago by the same man who built this B&B, and was later renovated by his grandson with the inclusion of a stained-glass tabletop depicting the virgin mother smothering her babe to her breast. A ceramic mug now sat on Jesus’ face, wafting rich mocha steam towards the towering ceiling, and beside it, a snack baggy spilling blood chips across a glossy catalog opened to a shapely woman in an ebony thong that Bruno said he would get me – the woman, yes, we could use some more blood bags at the B&B. We have plenty of thongs, however.

The prickly blanket crawled down to my elbow, exposing my cleavage wedged inside a lace bra I squeezed over my bosom so the tourists roaming through the foyer won’t freak out over a pair of coconuts. That’s all they’re getting from me. I damn well refuse to wear a blouse with such skin-tingling coolness breezing over my skin. My hands reached out for a cold glass of French blood soaking a wet ring into the frosted tabletop, pinching my fingertips around a thin black straw laying against the rim as I brought the drink to my puckering lips for a refreshing sip, “Mmmmm.”

Footsteps thumped down a twisting mahogany staircase in the main hallway and my eyes turned towards a certain idiot with a schoolboy grin fattening up his cheeks that made me want to drive a fist through his damn teeth. He lowered himself onto a high-back chair beside the coffee table, clamped his hairy hands on his even hairier knees, and leaned towards me,Tah-day’s da big day. Finally gonna show all ya hard work and effort to tha boss lady in a fancee meetin’, eh? So you gonna show her tha two thousand thongs you collected over the past 500 years or demonstrate your pro sucking technique on her thumb? I ‘dink da latter might earn you a bonus.

My teeth stabbed into the straw when he started snickering at me and my feet snuck underneath my blanket before his chimp-like hand could stroke a fingertip along my toes, “Oh you’re such a comedian Bruno, I’m surprised they don’ got you pullin’ clowns outta ya ass down at tha circus. You go be a good boy and get tha ca’ started for wifey.”

I flicked my middle finger at the pencil-thin straw and dots of blood sprinkled across his face.Eh don’t forget about dat briefcase, kay babe? I mean ‘danks for stoppin’ by 'n all, but… His words never reached my ears. My green eyes swelled open, the glass slipped from my fingertips, and in that split instant the sudden weightlessness of my hand slapped me back to the present. I caught the glass, and sighed. Work sensitive material leaked out the lab yesterday. I just remembered. Hell I blame Goddamn Bruno for this mess. Name one person who can concentrate on a phone call with security while a grown ass man breathes down your neck asking a million stupid questions about the job. I swear if the man’s not screwing me in bed he’s screwing me over some other way.

I’ll get tha ca’ hot. His muscled physique snapped up from that chair like a goddamn martial artist. His hand curved into a talking beak and his voice squeaked up his throat like his arm was shoved up an Elmo puppet,Mothafucka you gonna ruin this damn furniture with all dese goddamn acrobatics! Who kidnapped tha sexy English man I married and replaced his ass with Jackie Chan? Huh? Who fuckin’ did’dat ta me?

“Fuck you, I don’t sound like Elmo.” I slapped his talking hand away before his powdered fingertips pinched onto my nose, though my nostrils scrunched up at all the pizza dough and tomatoes saturating his skin – the lodgers must really love Bruno boy’s pizza if he smells like it all the goddamn time now.

I almost wanted to peck a goodbye kiss to his prickly chin when his mouthed curved into a sexy smirk carving grooves down his cheeks. I love it when he smiles like a douchebag.Don’ forget tha lunch I packed for you, babe. He threw open a screen door overlooking a well-manicured lawn with apples scattered beneath the shadow of a massive tree. Speckles of rain gathered along a burgundy welcome mat trapped under his pool slippers. With a reluctant sigh I threw my blanket onto the curvy spine of the loveseat and zoomed through the hallways in search of a sleek pencil skirt carelessly thrown over a leather ottoman, my right high-heel stood behind a box of Frosted Flakes deep inside a wine cabinet in the basement, the left heel was cooking in a microwave, and my blouse was tucked inside his custom chef uniform with his stupid name stitched on the breast pocket and speckles of flour and sugar glittering on the fabric. Christ I folded my outfit into a neat pile upon the dresser this morning but this man turned getting dressed into a damn Easter egg hunt. I don’t know why stupid shit like this gives Bruno a hard-on but it’s five centuries past annoying.

On The Road. Natasha's Outfit. Complete with Lab Coat and Brief Case in the Passenger Seat.

I stared ahead at broken twigs sliding down a drizzling windshield. Snowman-shaped shrubbery smeared past the windows, sprouting wild razorblade leaves, and rustling canopies scraping across the grey sky once my trembling hands steered past the city limits onto the black tarmac of a country highway. I glanced up at smoky green eyes narrowing on me from the rearview mirror and the fear crinkling my eyelids made me glance down at an air freshener tree spinning in lazy circles before a watery road vanishing into the fog.

“I am Natasha Sinclair.” I cleared my throat and leaned towards the side-mirror to catch a glimpse of my cream-colored blouse, steamed to perfection, scented a fragrance of yellow lotus and citrus I bottled from the gardens. Bruno said I smelled like barbecue wings and bacon but I just rolled my eyes and walked away. Idiot. I blew a sigh through my cherry lips, “No I should say good morning first—Good Morning, I am Natasha Sinclair. Today I wish to present a new discovery…” Words came out of my mouth but my ears were too anxious to stare through my curls and listen.

My right hand clutched the wiper control stick as my thumb rolled the clicking plastic forward until the wipers thrashed at leaves drifting onto the vehicle. Freezing air blasted from the dashboard vents and blew away the sun’s heat threatening to melt me from behind the thick cloud cover. This car actually came with the property, parked under an apple tree with fruit pummeling its square rooftop. A strip of wood ran across the exterior and its sleek body was shaped into a mobile shoebox like most ‘80s cars. Bruno and I think it looks like a cab instead of an old luxury car the way the front seats are wedged together with their own clunky armrests down the middle. He also broke off the damn wiper stick and installed a modern replacement that looked out of place in the vintage interior.

My narrowed eyes darted towards a Samsung vibrating across the dashboard. Its glowing screen showed a virtual arrow veering towards the right: “Ding! Take the next turn!” Oh I took the next turn alright, and my damn vehicle hopped along a bumpy road with rocks popping against the windshield, mud puddles splashing onto the wheels as its headlights shone through a dark forest. Was like having sex with Bruno. My mouth tightened into a purse when the car rolled out the wilderness onto a perfectly well-paved street with solar lights standing along the shoulder, “Goddamn GPS pranked me. This damn street was not even half a mile further and it takes me down redneck express instead. I must look like white trash to Samsung.” I felt like pimp-slapping the Japanese nerd who made this phone. Korean, whatever. They all have the same eyes, same breath on the Bronx subway, same adorable school girls swishing around in those mini-skirts, same high-tech futuristic cities and they expect me to tell them apart? Gonna take me another 500 years.

Green highway signs whipped over the vehicle before the towering peaks of Seattle rose over the forest and stood against the cloudy skies like gleaming mountains. I merged into the most crowded central avenue in the whole damn city and slumped my cheek upon a shaking fist to keep from slamming it through the goddamn steering wheel. Where the Hell did all these humans crawl from at 4am in the morning? I sighed and continued tapping my toe against the gas, crawling a goddamn inch every ten minutes towards the most formidable building in the downtown cluster where clouds of mist drifted over an ocean of glittering windows.

Outside Ogma Industries...

I finally clamped a hand on the window crank and pumped that muddy barrier down when a yellow parking gate came into view. I outstretched my hand into the refreshing mist, security card clasped between my fingertips. My ebony pump stomped on the brakes and my narrowed eyes stared up at a guard inside a security booth. He took the card from my hand and it was then I noticed he was a vampire. It may have been a grey, cloudy day but it was still odd to see one out hours before sunrise. Like literally outside like this. I knit my brows at this strange spectacle before his voice finally pulled my ear:Good Morning Ma’am. Unlock your doors for me.

He stepped outside the booth and the car bounced upon the wheels as his hands threw up the trunk of the vehicle. As I slipped a blue lanyard over my nest of curls a chuckle splashed against my crumpled smile when I heard awhoaback there. He must’ve found those Victoria Secret bags crammed with enough lace thongs and brassieres to have a drag queen foaming at the mouth.

The backseat door swung open and a cone of light spilled onto the burgundy cushions. I stared up into the rearview mirror and watched his gloved hand dive into the magazine pouches and come out with nothing but lint stuck to the latex.Good.

No, this wasn’t good.

He swung open the passenger seat. His hand grasped onto my lab coat and snatched it away from a black brief case. There was no security label on its leather body. His hand reached out for the metal handle when my hand slammed down on the case, and I looked him in the eye, “Sir, if you open this case you will die.”

He crinkled his brows and his head snapped back, surprised,Ma’am, why are you attempting to bring an unmarked briefcase into the facility? For all we know it could contain a homemade nerve agent made of silver and cyanide.

I raised my brows at him as my chest sunk into a deep sigh, “Look, you’re not gonna believe me, you won’t, but here’s the story: yesterday I dialed security from my house about this briefcase and somehow ended up ordering a chocolate sundae from Baskin Robbins. You know crazy husbands and their shenanigans. I swear I had full intention of getting it tagged before leaving the facility, but I left work in a rush when my husband called, apparently he was sprayed with a heavy dose of silver and I—”

So you’re cutting work to deal with personal matters now? His mouth walked around his face like he was chewing on his own spit and eager to hock it at me.

I only narrowed my eyes into a shimmer of green light, “Sir, I come to this building every day I’m supposed to, sit through an hour of traffic just to get here on time, and yesterday was the only day I ever left work early so don’ pull that shit on me.” My hand slid across the bumpy leather and snatched onto the handle, “You can’t open this briefcase. What’s inside here will kill you. And I don' mean vampire-dead, I mean dead-dead.”

His forearms rested upon the rooftop and his eyes narrowed down on me,Okay. So why are you taking toxic materials out the lab? Why couldn’t you just leave it there?

“I can’t tell you.”

You can’t tell me why you did it?


Then I’ll be taking this with me.

His gloved hand reached out for the case but I dragged it over onto my lap.

He cocked a brow at me,Are you defying security ma’am?

“Yes I am,” I hugged the brief case to my chest. If he tries to run it through a scanner the damn case will explode and money will go down the drain, but I was done talking. I'm the only one who can safely look inside this case. As far as I know, at least.

He only smirked at me like I just made a terrible mistake as he stood upright and closed the passenger door. I glanced up at him walking around the vehicle to his security booth,I’m reporting this to security. He picked up a phone and nuzzled it between his cheek and shoulder before stabbing his forefinger on a shiny red button that looked like it would detonate everything within 3 miles,Security we have a Natasha Sinclair reporting for work in possession of an untagged briefcase with contents that are a potential hazard to the facility. Please inform Miss Shaffer about this incident. He slammed the phone down with a harsh click, and turned his narrowed eyes on me,You are to remain parked until further instruction.

I only sighed and slumped down my seat until my blonde curls disappeared below the window. I contemplated throwing my lab coat over my pencil skirt and making my kitten purr to pass the time since my ass was probably gonna be stranded here for a good hour. My brows crinkled at a sudden thump against my seat. I glanced up into the rearview mirror and could’ve sworn I saw a pair of beady eyes staring back at me, beady eyes wearing only a pair of boxers and a bathrobe? I twisted my body towards the backseat. “Empty?” I swept a hand across the burgundy seats and felt nothing but smooth firs tickling my palm. Weird. Hell if it's a ghost I might take my chance outrunning the entire goddamn security department. They can shoot whatever fancy lasers and tanks they damn well please my ass isn't staying in here with no goddamn ghost. Or whatever the hell that was.

A sigh burst past my cherry lips as my shoulders flopped back against the driver’s seat. My forehead rested against the sharp edge of the window as my cheek slipped within a palm and my weary eyes rolled over to the guard pummeling his fingers against a keyboard...

Security Alert ⚠️
Message 1
Security Personnel
< Gayle Shaffer >
< Office of Security >
< N/A >
Potential Security Threat
3 (15 pt)
      Good Morning Ms. Shaffer,

    At 5:15 this morning a woman identified as “Natasha Sinclair” arrived in a Lincoln with license plate MUAHAHA. She is currently parked at a security gate. Sinclair has an unmarked, unlabeled, unidentified brief case in the passenger seat of her vehicle containing contents which are a threat to sentient life, as she claims. She also claims the contents of this case came from the labs though it is possible said content could have been swapped with a hazardous substance before attempting to enter the facility. She has furthermore refused to leave the case with security.

    Though her background check came up clean prior to employment such measures cannot fully guarantee whether or not she is a member of the supremacy or other vampire organization. There is also possibility of this woman belonging to an undisclosed terrorist group. The security panel recommends proceeding with extreme caution. Should she proceed with standard entry into the facility or should she be detained for further questioning? It’s your call ma’am.

     Please respond at your convenience. Security will monitor the issue in the meanwhile.

Security Team
Ogma Industries 

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Gayle Shaffer | Vampire; Ancient

Posted on Wed May 03, 2017 1:50 am

Outfit. Hair and makeup. Not important to this thread, but I got excited because I found it,
Gayle's office. This is not the meeting room mentioned later xD

I twisted the ring around my finger as I looked through the floor to ceiling windows toward the city. This was a perplexing, exciting, confusing and almost terrifying time. Our plan wasn’t yet to be set in motion. I hadn’t had any news on the alpha. My little planted seeds i.e. giving that blonde mutt enough blood to drown in, were wilting. My “pet” Giovanni was too small-brained to be of any use. Telling me he didn’t want to leave then turning around and accusing him of holding him against his will. I’d have to send a note to my scientists to consider that the treatments could be degrading his mind, if at a slow rate. It wasn’t a complete failure, in fact the entire plan with the wolves was only meant to be the kick in the Supremacy’s gut when they were already down. I suppose it didn’t matter just how hard that kick was, even if I did prefer it with a steel toed boot. But it wasn’t my own inadequacy that meant the hair-brained mutts couldn’t realize a mutually beneficial deal when it landed on their lap.

Noelle being on board, in fact, ecstatic, was enough to make up for all of it. I couldn’t wait for us to be on top of the world and more than that, I would be holding her up above my own head. She was my creation and would be my legacy. I had faith that she could last just as long as I, if not more. And possibly in a much stronger way. Finally I smiled and my arms fell casually to my sides as I eventually found my way to the chair at my desk. I stared at the screen of my desktop as if it would give me answers when a notification appeared in the bottom right corner. An email. I’d come to dread opening those as everyone else on the planet, human or not. Usually from those on the financial board, chiding me on my ignorance of the subject (or carelessness.) I still refused to share even so much as the thought that my research team was on the cusp of something that would refill our coffers and then some. Lilah usually texted me when the research team themselves had something exciting. Others were corporate emails sent to almost everyone in the building. But this one was different. Security?

After reading the email I slid down in my seat and rolled my eyes. I kept telling myself that I did have a sense of integrity and that I wasn’t a liar, as much as I wanted to tell them I didn’t have the time to deal with something like this. But it wasn’t true. Today was a lull. Besides, now I was curious. I felt I’d heard that name before: Natasha Sinclair. Perhaps I should see her myself. But I wasn’t doing this alone. Lilah was coming with, even if I knew she would do little more than stand there and silently judge this character with her facial expressions. That would be enough to lighten the mood for me. I pulled my phone from the corner of the desk and brought up our text conversation, asking her to meet me. I hadn’t particularly raised up, but my head fell once again onto the headrest. I raised my phone with both hands and brought my email from my phone, and typed a response to my apparently ineffective security team.

I’ll be down soon. Then I forwarded the email to Lilah. By the time I finished Lilah was standing in front of my desk, as she always did when “summoned”. I hated it, it had become her routine but I hated it. I wanted her to be more family than a servant. I knew it had to have come from a part of her past that she hadn’t discussed even with me. I sent you an email I just received from the security team. You’ll find it entertaining. I said, as I reluctantly pulled myself from the chair. She immediately removed her phone from her pocket and began reading as I walked with her toward the elevator. Natasha Sinclair… she mumbled. Rings a bell, doesn’t it? Oh, I remember her. Blonde, chest tattoos, this was said with an obvious look of disgust, Odd. A little odd. Perhaps I’ll know her when I see her. The elevator dinged twice, each time those waiting refused to get on when they saw who was already on board. I always took mental notes when that happened. If I ever got bored, I’d make sure they would really be afraid of me. Problem was as of late I was rarely bored.

The elevator dinged to the bottom floor and I had a stark realization. We should let her in, even with the briefcase. The sun will be up soon. I’m sure there’s a meeting room on the first floor. Lilah quickly made a phone call and our direction changed from the front door to - wherever Lilah was going. She knew this place inside and out. I knew my home, my office, and the lab. I purposefully banished the directions to the boardroom from my mind. The meeting area had that strange stripe-textured tile carpet in multiple hues of gray, lots of windows on one wall only blocked by a whiteboard. (These were windows into the adjoining hallway. The opposing wall was a large screen that all-but encompassed the entire wall, and at one end of the room was a computer that likely controlled what was on that screen. The table simple and such a glossy white I could see my reflection, and in the middle of the table there was a sheer aqua-colored glass vase with orange lilies. The only bit of color in the room. I sat at the end of the table near the computer, and Lilah to my right. We sat and waited for Natasha Sinclair and her now infamous briefcase.

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Mon May 08, 2017 1:14 pm

You remember that Oompa Loompa lookin’ fuck, what’s his name—Donald Trump, that’s the moron who’s the same shade as the leftover pumpkin pie attracting flies to my doorstep. I hate watching that fat ass wobble around a stage like one of Baron’s toy trucks are stuck up his ass, waving those shrunken hands like he’s signaling for an alien mothership with that gang of mama’s boys flanking him that he calls security. Goddamn Trump. He may have the votes and the bad attitude but he doesn’t have the style of a top bitch. Okay now look at me. I had me a whole squad of undead security marching behind me like I was the damn president of the united snakes. Like picture us walking around the corner in slow motion. An impossible wind tosses my blonde curls from my cheeks, my almond eyes narrow into a sexy smolder that makes my green irises sparkle, and I cock the corner of my mouth into a smirk as my dangerous suitcase hangs from a single knuckle. All it would take is for one of these assholes to bump into me or slap me on the ass and we’re cooked. Top Bitch.

My chin turned towards my shoulder and my green eyes swept down the starch white uniform of a male scientist puffing a furnace against my neck. His spine hunched over like a wilting rose as his dead hands dangled beside his thighs. A beard clung to his sharp jawline, thick as a carpet of grass with the texture of bread crust, and a mustache tickled his nose when his mouth crumpled into a pained smile that desperately wanted to be a frown. His brawny fists clamped onto his upper arms where his fingers trembled against the fabric like he wanted to tear his body free of that coat, throw his badge to the floor, and dash outside this facility as if His Maker was a goddamn kitten.

My hand swung behind me and caressed its knuckles along his thigh, “You’ll do fine, sweetheart, quit worrying.” He blew a minty fresh breeze against my ear and slipped his trembling hands onto my shoulders. Strange that this vampire tried to breathe again when he was scared.

A security guard stood before the meeting room door, raising a palm before his chest once we came within a few strides of his reach.We’d like to inquire once more why you decided upon an explosive brief case as your carriage of choice?

I only pinched my brows into a sharp crease and sucked the hollows of my cheeks into a tight purse. “Please excuse me for not wanting anyone to steal my shit.”

Please refrain from cursing.

“Fuck you.”

I shoved past him towards the door, earning a deep sigh from his piranha lips in desperate need of some anal lube—in fact, I slipped a hand inside my coat pocket and threw a stick of chapstick overhead which drew a few crinkled brows my way. “Don’t go on a date without it. Or she won’t have any lips left to suck you off.” I stabbed a forefinger his direction as the chapstick fell within his open palms. My other hand rushed after that doorknob like there were hundred dollar bills floating on the other side.

As the door squeaked open my cheeks plumped up with a pleasant smile and my hands held my briefcase before my thighs like an innocent schoolgirl carrying a lunchbox. I stood before the never-ending conference table and bowed before my company, and could feel the heat of my assistant doing the same, “Good morning Miss Shaffer.” My eyes stared through my bangs at Lilah, “and company.” Hah. Like I was going to address Lilah by name. Tired of her staring over my shoulder like I’m a Jew in a concentration camp. Lord knows the braindead Aryan police thought I was a Jew because of my curly hair. Bruno’s dumbass is the one who decided to vacation in Belgium during a world war, the madmen occupying the country took one look at his hooded eyes and figured he was a Jew too. The paranoid fucks threw an entire village in those God-awful camps. I played along with my sentence and was rewarded with Nazis screaming into the night as I punched finger-shaped cavities into their skulls like bowling balls and snatched the skin off their brains for a bedtime German delicacy. I burned that shithole to the ground after those soldiers gave me a piece of their mind (pun intended). Lilah deserves a similar punishment for being a damn Lab Nazi. Only I’d rather rip that pretty blouse open, chain her to my bedpost, and torture her body with silver while she sat on my f—

My curved brows leaped onto my forehead before that thought took shape in my mind. My eyes darted towards a woman seated several miles across the table where her slender frame simmered a burning presence that stood her in every corner of the room. Like an avalanche you could always feel Miss Shaffer before you saw her coming. Her delicate facial features sharpened into the speared jaws of a shark the longer I stared across that table. I was terrified of the Ancient. The blank expression parting my lips showed it best. She was a shark with expensive tastes that could bite my head off at the first scent of blood. My eyelids lowered upon the valley of her cleavage, a plunging neckline exposed the swell of her bosom, and a single brow perched on my forehead, “I must say you are a sight for sore eyes as usual ma’am. Your company too.”—thrown in there like a goddamn afterthought. My plump lips curled inside my mouth before they could smile.

I handed the case over to my assistant and the man nuzzled it against his chest like a teddy bear. I shot a threatening wide-eyed stare his way that made him raise the case to his chin before softening my expression into a cheek-plumping smile, “I am Natasha Sinclair. Beside me is my assistant.” I cocked a brow at the man scraping his teeth across his bottom lip and stabbed a pointy toe at his ankle. His blue eyes shot open, “Good Morning Miss Shafter—Shaffer, very good morning. I am Percival Sinclair, Miss-uh Misses Ss-Sinclair’s assistant.” His adam’s apple bobbed up and down his throat like he was choking on his own spit. If he fucks this meeting up…

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Gayle Shaffer | Vampire; Ancient

Posted on Tue May 09, 2017 4:17 pm

Lilah and I could hear the conversation of the entourage now heading toward our location. Crude. I shot Lilah a glare and a knowing grin. You’re crude when you want to be. Lilah wore a lot of black and white, and it was fitting. The double sided coin of the kinky puritan. And trust me, I knew about that from experience. She sounds… fun. But then again, I didn’t hire her to be fun. Lilah swiveled her chair to face me and crossed her right leg over her left. I hired her. But just the same.

I’m glad to see you beat the daylight. I could smell fear, but not in the typical way you smelled it with humans. It was a sense. And I found myself constantly surrounded by it. Sometimes it was flattering. Today it was an obstacle to get around, an annoyance. We had business and it would be difficult for Miss Sinclair to be completely honest with me if she was terrified.

That so? I assume this stunt was in an effort to gain my attention? The words betrayed the benign manner in which they were expressed. Everyone is excused excluding Miss Sinclair. Percival may stay if you deem it necessary.

Ma’am I advise again- I held my hand toward him, not looking but making the point that his words were wasted. You will carefully put the briefcase in the middle of the table and take a seat out of reach of the object. Then we can talk. As I spoke, the security team murmured as they left the room in a single lined progression. I waited for those excused to depart before speaking again. I shouldn’t have to ask, but what’s in the case?

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Re: [Private] Explosive Private Parts

Natasha Sinclair | Vampire; Aged

Posted on Mon May 15, 2017 6:32 am

A momentary look of surprise held my brows above my widened eyes when she mentioned some kind of stunt. “Ma’am, with all due respect, I am a scientist, not a magician, surely I wouldn’t waste your time with cheap exploits.” It was a damn lie in fact, I would do whatever it takes to get a pay raise or even a nude selfie from this woman, but she didn’t need to know that. I clasped my hands before my chest and forced another smile onto my cheeks, “The tech is worn on the earlobe, when activated it sends a microscopic cord through the ear canal that attaches to the brain. As invasive as this sounds it is perfectly safe, it’s when you remove the headset that any danger arises. There are some…uncomfortable symptoms which may arise.”

My sharpened toe crunched down on his brown loafer and Percy took that as his cue to fuck off before he embarrassed me in front of my boss. He strode towards the middle of the conference table and swung the briefcase onto the reflective surface. On its metal handle beeped a tiny red bulb indicating its hostile state. He laid a hand over his necktie before bowing before the two ladies a second time. He side-stepped behind the computer stand and typed his credentials into the device.

My fingertips rested upon the apple of my cheeks for a moment as my painted lips curled inside my mouth. No product was perfect but I damn sure wanted this project to sound the part. When I felt confident in the words pushing at my tongue I raised my head into a modelesque posture and flicked my head sideways until blond curls tumbled away from my arched brows, “I would like to proceed with a brief description of this technology before performing a live demonstration on my assistant, who has signed a waiver in case anything should go wrong, and there is a 10 percent chance it might. This tech has only recently been classified as non-experimental.” That chance was actually closer to 100%. As my unsuspecting ass would soon find out. This meeting was going straight to hell.

My ebony heels strode alongside the table as my brows furrowed at security guards staring through the windows, “During the Cold War Russian scientists discovered that mediums could receive images from the dead of remote places, and could mentally traverse these environments as if they were physically there, with alarming accuracy.”

I finally clamped a hand onto a chair where those aggravating eyes couldn’t stare at me through the whiteboard and raised the seat back from the table so its feet didn’t drag across the carpet. I lowered my rump to the cushion and slipped a thigh over the other in a ladylike posture. I clasped my hands together on the tabletop and my middle finger pushed at a platinum wedding band squeezing my knuckle, “What’s astounding is that these scientists trained human minds to see what was written on the back of a thin piece of metal as if they were standing there on the other side. Without scary demons.” My eyes glanced down at my doppelganger staring at me from the tabletop, “Puny in comparison to what a medium could achieve, yes, but it was a start. Research into out of body experiences produced mostly passive results, where the mind can observe what is taking place, but has not the power to interact with the world, that is until recently.”

I turned my head towards my assistant, whose steady hand now sat upon a computer mouse, clicking at a powerpoint presentation shimmering across the wide screen. An image of two brain scans faded onto the screen, one a normal brain at rest, the other lit up like a Christmas tree. His heavy voice entered the room, “On the left is a normal brain, on the right is a brain high on LSD. The vast majority of our project funds went towards buying illegal drugs to get our test subjects high so we could study their brain activity.”

I sighed and buried my face into my palm. That’s exactly what Gayle needs to hear.

“Our team managed to isolate the neural processes which function to create sight, sound, even the sensation of kinesthetic movement. We believe we have even managed to isolate the very consciousness of a person.” He clicked. An image floated onto the screen of a brain almost devoid of color, that looked to be either asleep or on the verge of death. “This is the brain of someone using our technology. While wearing the device, the user’s mind seems to separate from the body, and their physical form remains in a comatose state, carrying out only basic functions.”

My green eyes rolled back towards the boss lady, “Essentially we can create a living ghost. Anyone with a brain can now walk through security devices undetected, can walk through walls, can access electronic bank accounts and database records, can even fight a war without their physical body taking a single scratch.” I folded my forearms upon the table and leaned towards her as my voice dropped to a raspier timber, “However, we don’t fully understand what we have created. Some users do report seeing demons running along their peripheral vision. We have observed some very severe, permanent, and troubling risks which come from extended usage, though it is assumed safe when used properly, aside from the obvious fact that the body is completely vulnerable while comatose in contrast to the unlocked power of the wandering mind. My assistant will briefly go over known drawbacks.”

Right when the last word shot from my lips an actual hand seemed to clamp onto the back of my curls and squish my bosom against the edge of the conference table like I was some chick in a degrading porno. My brows furrowed at the surprise contact. My head whipped towards my shoulder and my eyes widened at Rihanna dragging a juicy tongue across her fat ass lips on my goddamn powerpoint. What the hell is that Percy?” Much as I love me some Rihanna she damn sure didn't belong in this fucking meeting.

Percy narrowed his eyes on the ghetto shit crawling up the screen and read them aloud in the most generic whitebread voice. Kid was goddamn terrible at masking his mobster accent with this wannabe suburban housewife crap. “Bitch. Give. Me. Your money. Who y’all, think y’all, frontin’ on? Like brrap, brrap, brrap—Sinclair! The PowerPoint has been tampered with!” No shit. His head darted about the room at bouncing around the walls.

I shot upright from my seat, chair swung back onto the carpet, palms slamming down onto the tabletop, “Goddamn you Percy! You wait until the goddamn fucking meeting to pull this fuck shit! Oops!” The back of my hand daintily perched before my rosy lips as my widened eyes stared down at my superiors, “Please excuse me. I was diagnosed with Tourette’s several years ago, I couldn’t help myself. I would also like to add that this song in no way reflects my sentiments towards you ma’am.” Fucking ironic to be standing in a room demanding money when Goddamn Percy is going to get my ass fired with this shit. I’m not going to have any fucking money after this.

Percy raised his hands beside his shoulders, “Sinclair I didn’t do anything! It just changed right in front of me! Look!” He tried to lower his hands onto the keyboard but they were frozen in place as if someone was holding onto his wrists. A cold sweat oiled his features. He stumbled backwards from that computer with his eyes widened in fear before he charged straight after the door.

“Percy!” I called out, but he was gone. I sighed, blowing a lose strand away from my nose, then curved my mouth into a plastic smile towards the company owner, “Miss Shaffer, I’m not sure what’s going on with the computer system but I will have it fixed momentarily. Please excuse me.” My hands clenched into fists as my heels stomped towards that damn computer.

My brows furrowed into intense crinkles at all kinds of bullshit plagiarizing my goddamn powerpoint. The next slide featured a fucking collage of topless women thrusting their oversized chests at me. I never tapped the delete key so fast in my life. My eyes went wide when I scrolled down the remaining slides and found nasty stalkerish photographs of Gayle’s booty in those sexy outfits she likes to wear. Hell she might not even recognize the ass in these pics but I did because I’m the idiot who took them. “Shit.” I slipped my hand over the mouse to start deleting this shit before it appeared on the screen. My mouth crumpled into a frown when skype suddenly dominated the screen and distracted me from my deleting spree:

Skype™ [1] - tasha_sinclair
Natasha Sinclair
Booty Bandit Percival Sinclair
I want A+ meeting guys! Please don't screw this up!
Currently sniffing more butts than a catholic priest
Booty Bandit Percival Sinclair
05:42 Index Washington, USA
18 August 1538
English, French
Project Overlord Team
Type a message to Booty Bandit Percival Sinclair here

Booty Bandithey secxi05:41

Natasha SinclairPercy wtf are you doing?05:41

Booty Banditthis aint no percy05:41

Natasha Sinclairwhat?05:41

Booty Banditdont what me bitch05:41

Natasha SinclairWTF is going on? Answer me bitch.05:42

Booty Banditim helpin you more than you realize..05:42

Natasha SinclairOh yeah? By terrorizing the goddamn facility?05:42

Booty Banditby showin the true power of this tech05:42

Natasha SinclairPercy you are a goddamn fool05:42

Booty Banditlol you da fool girl05:42

Natasha SinclairPercy I am gonna fuck you up so good Gayle won't even have leftovers to catch on fire.05:42

Booty Banditlol gayle better have my $$$$$ :p05:42

Natasha SinclairFuck you05:42

Booty Banditlol05:42

My fingers slammed furiously into the keyboard by the time the chat closed on its own. I didn’t even care about the inappropriate booty shots plastered all over the screen. All my years of hard work. Gone. Thanks to this bullshit. My ass was going to be fired and I would have to go back to stripping—


Goddamn Percy was in the doorway winding his body like a sexy cobra, like a girl in a goddamn rap video, the terror opening his eyes contrasted with his damn pelvis rolling around like a video vixen. “Help! I can’t stop dancing!” He swept a prissy hand overhead like he was tracing a glittering dick across the ceiling as his hips sashayed over to the very last person in this room that needed his mess within 5 feet of her. He perched his fingertips onto his knees, arched his back, and proceeded to twerk his booty right in front of Gayle, throwing his ass around in circles like he was waiting for a hard slap or a wad of cash to be shoved down his crack. He stared over at me with those terror-stricken eyes, “Mom I can’t stop dancing like Nicki Minaj! Help!”

My eyelids sunk over my olive irises at this mess—now what mother wants to see one of her boys twerking in front of her boss like the woman just picked him up off the side of a road? This is bullshit. My brows furrowed at three security guards popping their nonexistent breasts at me and blowing their arms around in sweeping gestures like there wasn't a manly bone in their bodies. One of the men lowered his fingertips onto the table and just stood there with his hip thrown out like a diva while the other men climbed across the table towards Miss Shaffer, one hand at a time like a sexy cat, and started arching their backs like Beyoncé. I don’t know whether I wanted to laugh or scream. What the hell is happening.

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