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Points for Five Points [OPEN]
#1
Mud had been getting a little stir-crazy over the last week. He'd been cooped up in his 'lair', working on some new programming, shoring up the digital security, and updating some info on 'S-Net'. It had taken pretty much all his nights for the last ten days. And even if the drinks he could buy in the city were not of the best quality, it would sure as hell beat the choice between Rattus rattus and Rattus norvegicus he got to have in the sewers. Anything will taste faintly good after ten days of rat, whether black or brown....

He had chosen to use a sewer access point in an alley off the main part of the (now closed) Underground Atlanta area. It was usually pretty quiet, which suited him quite well. It wasn't that he had to hide, but he didn't like people being able to locate his home. He'd read about the fire in Midtown, where a bar burned to the ground, killing 3 Kindred. He didn't like the idea of burning to death again. So, he tried to remain stealthy whenever he entered or exited the sewers.

Once in the main area of 'the Underground', Mud debated where he'd go next. He could go mess with one of the nicey-nice clubs that seemed to attract all the hip, handsome and haughty. Or he could find a cheap bar to just go and take in some street news. The former would be a lot of fun, but would almost guarantee he'd burn more blood to get in and stay in than he could buy, and would certainly end up with him out on the streets when the bouncers ganged up on him. The latter was a LOT more laid back, but also less fun to blog about later.... Choces, choices....

As he contemplated his next move, he was just leisurely strolling along, ignoring the odd remark on his looks from the few vagrants that had gotten in, because they always found a way, apparently. He was headed for the MARTA station, to get to street level, and really couldn't be arsed to pay heed to every petty remark that got slung his way. He did notice it was getting a tad more crowded near the entry to the station. And judging by the mere fat that the hobos stayed well the fuck away from it, it was more than likely either gang members duking it out, or a vampire gathering of some sort. Mud decided to check it out....

Mud is wearing a white Dropkick Murphys hoodie, matching sweatpans, and a pair of slightly soiled white sneakers to finish the set of. He had also oiled the exposed parts of his skin a bit to really put on the shine
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#2
She had got her fix for that night. Which was almost a shame, given how ripe with all sorts of people and stuff Five Points was. It had found its new identity, sort of. If you were in the blood business and you liked dropping all pretences, that was the place for you. You could sell or buy or beg, or wander around looking for someone to grab you because that was your poison. You could pick your poison. Or your food.

Almost a shame, but not really. She had got her fix, and without being fucked behind a trashcan by some cheapstack creepo who liked them very very dead. That was not a shame, that was amazing.

She had no show that evening, she had a free night all by herself. She could've picked up some old plan, vague ideas of things to watch or read or visit, except she never did that. All such plans were meant for her dedicated Hell of Good Purposes. So she was doing what she did all too often: walking around Five Points, chain-smoking and browsing her phone, looking for nothing specific.

She looked up, once in a while. Just to make sure she didn't bump on some passer-by or some wall. And - Mud? Was that his name? The face, that was quite unmistakable, especially as he had the daring of showing it.

They'd met in a rather different context. The Salient, a place where you went where you do have pretences. She'd gone there out of curiosity, but she had got no intention of going back. Well, after the fire that had stopped being an option anyway. He had, what, a blog? He had mentioned something like that, she had forgot to ask for a link, though.

"Hey, hello!". If he didn't feel like, her greeting had been quite ignorable. But otherwise? She could do with a talk with, hm, anyone? That night was so empty, and she was tired of memes and tired tropes. At least, she could retrieve the link to his blog.
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#3
Mud had held his head high. True, he was one ugly sonovabitch, but at least he was ready to own it like a badge of honor. Quite a few people couldn't handle the sight. Some stared in mixed fright/disgust, most that didn't like it just turned away, and a select few seemingly had such a delicate system that they started retching. Mud took it all in stride, and with no small amount of pride. The few that weren't troubled by it, they seemed to react either really friendly, or just plain normally. And Mud repaid them in like form.

He had almost closed the distance to the small 'riot', when he heard a soft, but rather direct, greeting. Seeing as he was the only one nearby, it must have been meant for him. So, being an all-around friendly neighborhood Nossie, He stopped walking, and turned towards the voice. Once he saw who addressed him he realized one thing. He knew that he knew this woman, this fellow vampire. Then, after a little while, a little lightbulb seemed to go on inside his head. He'd met her at one of the fancy clubs. The now-burned one, if his memory served him well enough.

He there, y'rself. He hadn't lost his distinct Southern drawl, even if his now malformed mouth made it sound a lot more sinister than before. I believe we met. It's Anna, right? Fancy meeting you here. 'Tis a far cry from a fancy club, to be fair.
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#4
So he knew her name. Cool. Now let's hope her own memory wasn't all that worse of. "Mud, right?". Not a nickname you'd casually drop on someone unless you're sure it's actually how they're called. But, whatever. No, they were not in a fancy club, and if he was no fancy type, it's not like Anna felt much classier anyway.

"And yes, it's me, and it's quite a change of scenery, that's true. So, what's bring you here? Super-busy with something? 'Cause, well, I'm just in the mood of losing time, so I could ramble on and forget people could be, you know, trying to do something with their night? This is where I live, anyway. Or unlive - not that I can seriously get used to the term".

She shrugged, smiled, waited for whatever reply was going to come. That was a change of scenery. Better than reading yet another trope on cats and hair styles. So far, so good.
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#5
He smiled as she, albeit a little hesitant, had his name down in one go. Not that he was all that common-looking, and he used both name and face liberally on his blog, but he knew not everyone on Earth, or even in this city, followed that. Yeah, that's me. At least, it was when I rose. He made a little show of feeling his teeth. Yeah, feels like me, so I guess I'm still me.

As she started mentioning stuff about wasting time, he snickered. Well, it's not like we don't have enough of it to waste a day or two, right? Doing nothing feels good, if you want it to. He walked as upright as he physically could manage, which was to say: he wasn't overly hunched over, but still had that 'drooping shoulder' look to him. As for me? i was just walking around, chilling. Maybe see if there were new places that drew me in. But helping someone rambling, well I can do that, too. He seemed unfazed by the whole thing about living vs. unliving. If it bothered him, he didn't show it. He did feel it wasn't the night to go into a debate on it with Anna, though. So, this overgrown basement is your home? There's worse places you could hang, for sure. At least this place seems like a real village. Mine smells, mostly.

It did, but it had it's share of perks nonetheless. Biggest being the tap on the landline into the internet hub of Atlanta. And being pretty hidden helped too.
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#6
Whoa. It looked like they had a plan, or almost! Wait, was she all that thrilled about spending a night with an almost complete stranger? Somehow, the answer was yes, which probably implied something on her own status and supposed 'coolness' and fame. "Yup, my home! Well, I can't say I was born and bred here, but yeah, that's where I live, work, spend most of my time... Shame tonight there isn't much going on at the Pit, which is why I have such an utterly free night, anyway. Have you ever been there? You have a blog about, hm, places, right? Well, that's one place one should take a look at. Before they make a reality show about us and we all become too rich and less interesting to discover". Now, wouldn't Myra be proud of her? You couldn't rely on what she said, so guessing anything about her was the very definition of crapshoot. However, she seemed to care about the growth and prosperity of their ridiculous project. They both liked all things preposterous, for different reasons, and that was why lately a roof over her head and no necrophilist in her pants. And that's how I have a roof over my head and no necrophilist in my pants, kids - it wasn't all that catchy, but it wasn't such a terrible start.
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#7
Mud listened raptly. Most people thought he was 'just' a loud, obnoxious jerk. And while he could be all that, he was also an apt listener. He had to be. How else would he learn about stuff?

He walked along with Anna, giving the surroundings a good look as she led him across the infamous Underground Atlanta. He could see the appeal, even if it wasn't for him. The Pit? Heard of it, obviously. I shouldn't call myself "in on the Atlanta nightlife" if I hadn't. But yeah, I've yet to pay it a visit. You involved there? Fighter? Since you have a night off, and you say it's rather quiet. He seemed genuinely interested, and curious about things. I mean, if you want to talk about that, that is. If not, no big deal. I'll come back later anyway. No fair in coming there on boring days, obviously.

He pulled up the hood on his sweater to block some brighter lights as they passed them. He wasn't exactly pained by them, but he seemed to dislike them nonetheless. Somewhere in the Nos was a small bit that seemed adverse to lights, a little ball of something that was drawn to shadows and the dark.
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#8
He didn't know who she was? Really? There was something to be said about being half-famous, about emerging from anonymity not being a straightforward journey: you got used to be recognized on a sort-of-regular basis, outgrew the amazement at people knowing your face and your persona, then once again there you were all astonished - this time at the realization that someone did not know what you did for a living.

"I'm involved, yes, since the very beginning... You know, 'small girl lifts bigger people and throws them around' used to be the main attraction, before we even tried to give a damn about decent storytelling. Or terrible storytelling. Anything beyond a silly gig that'll pay for a bottle of blood". Because, 'decent storytelling' was a high claim, considering their signature style. Her teachers would have been horrified, but then what? "You know what? I could show you where everything started. I could tell the whole story from the beginning - not that's anything like a secret, actually it's on our site and who knows where else, but... It still beats visiting the Pit while someone's redecorating and someone's training and whatnot". Which meant Myra was guzzling blood and projecting images eveywhere until she found something of her liking. That was the plan for the night, for what she could tell. Given her past experiences, not one she was all that eager to stick around for. "So... it's a couple of blocks from here, fancy a walk?".
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