An RP by NekoLen and Tachigami

This RP will contain:
Excessive blood
Violence
Abuse of humanity

---

Carter's floor was cool and damp under his bare feet. He didn't feel it anymore, though. It was half stone, and half old, moth-eaten carpet. This was where he preferred to lie because it was softer than the stone, but not by much. His thin but oddly strong chain, hooked to a thick, heavy collar padlocked around his neck, allowed only part of his thin body to be on the carpet at a time. Even down below the old house, Carter could hear the rain. The rain, having poured all day, had begun seeping into his living quarters the previous day. The rainy season was always tough to handle, but at least it allowed the rats and mice to seek shelter more often than the dry season. As he thought of that, biting his claw-like nails a bit, he caught sight of one squeezing under the door. A fat one, hardly able to run. Carter sat up and crouched to lessen his presence, waiting for the right time.

When he pounced the young mouse screeched until he brought it up to his mouth and bit its head off, spatting it to the floor and drawing out the blood from its little, wet body. It wasn't much, and it was definitely not clean, but Carter couldn't live without the blood these little things gave. The sharp teeth that filled his mouth would become too long should he not gnaw on the bones, and he'd die of malnutrition otherwise.

The door shuddered on its heavy, sturdy hinges as it opened and Carter's grandfather entered the little room. Sudden, horrible rage engulfed him and he lunged forward blindly, snarling at the wrinkled old man who stepped in for just a moment before tossing a metal bowl to the floor and bringing out a sharpened stick to ward Carter back. Like a dog the young man paced slightly on all fours, able to stand straight but not really wanting to. "Baggidup, boy." The old man mumbled, and slammed the door. A scrape of wood indicated the door was locked from out there, and a few footfalls meant he was gone in a moment. Carter glared at the bowl. Water. He put his foot out, overturning it. God, he was so thirsty, but he didn't want what that man, his wife, had to give. He went to the back wall instead, an entire wall of stone that leaked water with the rain, and put his tongue against it.

Upstairs, the old man sat with a huff beside his wife. Both had purely gray hair, wrinkled, lined faces of great age and strain over the years, and the same bad posture. He looked to her. "You called 'em, eh?"

She nodded. Soon the agents would be here. They'd take away that abomination of a grandson.

Tomas quickened his pace, his armful of paperwork threatening to spill onto the ground around him. He was muttering darkly under his breath, annoyed at how late he was. He rushed around the corner, nearly sliding on the slick lino floors, coming to a stop outside of his office. Inhaling deeply, he entered the room, nodding at the man sitting on the other side. He shared his office with his senior partner, Detective Matthews, a man of around 40, that always wore a hat over his neatly combed greying hair. The man put out his cigarette and grimaced as Tomas stumbled to his desk and dumped the papers on top of it.

"You are late," the man spoke softly, sounding bored. He never seemed to betray any emotion on his face or in his voice. "Next time, don't be." The man stood up, putting on his shabby coat that smelt of smoke. "Now, hurry up. We have an emergency to answer to."

Tomas stuttered over an apology, annoyed at how his words escaped him in his time of need. He nodded quickly, trying to straighten the paperwork, only to have it slip onto the floor. He stood with his arms loosely to his side and sighed heavily. He bent to pick them up, but was pushed over to the door by Matthews. "Pick that up later," the man directed. Tomas bit his lip and left the room, waiting for his senior partner to catch up to him.

Detective Matthews swept down the corridor, passed the other offices and towards the elevator. Tomas followed at his heels, looking like a little puppy. As they rode the elevator down to the car park, Tomas found himself lost in thought once more. He was a young man of only 20, quite young to be starting at the Agency. He was very short for his age and also thin, due to not having much of a diet. His black hair was always tied back from his face and his yellow eyes hid behind wire-framed reading glasses. He also suffered from highly strung nerves, which made him easily confused and nervous. He felt very small next to the man next to him.

To make himself calm, he stared at the numbers on the side of the elevator as they lit up. He clenched his fists to prevent them from shaking too much, not wanting to seem weak in front of his partner. He had only been working for a week and this would be his first assignment. He took his glasses off and balanced them on the top of his head as they left the elevator. The car park was full of black cars with tinted windows. Tomas didn't know what make or model they were, he had always been bad at cars. They hoped into one of the newer looking models, Matthews sitting in the drivers seat and Tomas in the passenger's. He didn't mind, as he had yet to learn how to drive a car.

They left the Agency's building and drove down flooded streets. The wiper blades moved quickly across the front window, wiping the heavy downfall of rain so they could see clearer. Tomas sighed again and stared out the window. He enjoyed the rainy season. The rain was pretty as it fell from the dark clouds above, and it made the island cool. He hated the heat like many of the people living here.

They arrived at the place after a few minutes of silence. Matthews looked over at Tomas, as if about to say something. He shook his head and smiled lightly. "Don't worry, kid. You will be fine. Just take notes and listen." Tomas gripped tightly to the small notepad he had found in the glove box. They got out of the car and rushed over to the door, Detective Matthews ringing the doorbell. Tomas surveyed the house. It seemed like any other, with impeccable gardens out front. He guessed that old people lived here, and wasn't surprised when an old man answered the door.

Carter took his tongue away from the wall and brushed back his damp, dirty mane of black hair. He tended to chew on it throughout the day to keep it a relatively manageable length, then pile the resulting black shavings in the corner. He could hear something: His grandfather talking to someone new. “About time! You ain’t brought no... no van to take this thing away in?”

The new voice answered: “It’s on the way. I assume you’d want us to take a look at him first, am I right?” The new voice sounded deep and powerful, as though he had a lot of authority. “Well then, I suppose we’d better see it. Lead the way, sir and madam. Tomas, come on. This one sounds pretty violent, so I’ll not have you get in the crosshairs yet.”

Carter growled. Someone new? Two someones! That was odd. What did they want? Why did that old man, that old woman, call them? They’d kept him down here since he could walk, since he’d grown angry and attacked the dog, ripping its throat out and draining it of its blood and a good portion of its meat. Why did they want help now of all times? After seventeen years! Gritting his teeth, Carter crouched at the farthest corner of the room, away from the door and in a defensive position as the scraping of old wood met his ears and the door swung open. His grandparents stood back to allow a man that looked to be in his middle-ages to step forward. “This is the one? Carter, you call him?”

“Yeah, that’s his name.” The old woman growled. “Doesn’t seem to answer to it well, though.”

Detective Matthews nodded curtly, giving a glance towards Tomas before stepping into the dark and damp basement. He pulled a handkerchief from out of his pocket and covered his nose, as the smell of must, decay and waste hit them. Tomas held his breath, not wanting to offend by making any movements to block his nose against the horrendous smell. He had already written a few things down, and continued to scribble with his small pen as they walked over to were they kept the creature in question. Even though he had to wear glasses to see what he was writing, Tomas had exceptional eyesight in the dark. It came from his father's side of the family.

Matthews motioned for Tomas to stay near the door with the grandparents as he slowly approached the form of a young man tied down near the far wall. He crouched slightly and peered at the filthy and deplorable conditions the creature was kept in. Showing no sign of any emotion, the man stepped back towards the grand parents. They left the room, talking about removal and care. Tomas stayed behind, as far away from the creature as possible. The teen seemed to be some sort of vampire, though Tomas had never seen one like him. The grandparents were human, their daughter had mated with a vampire to create this thing. Tomas thought that, somehow, the creature's father hadn't been fully vampire.

He finished writing his notes on the conditions of the place and accidentally dropped his pen, which rolled across the soggy floor and ended up next to Carter. Tomas gulped and slowly made for it, keeping the teen in his line of vision in case something was to happen.

Carter was frozen to his place. This new person, a man larger than his grandparents, and definitely larger than the other new man, had come in as if he owned this place. He’d come in without a moment’s hesitation, and that sparked the fire in Carter’s mind, spreading to his limbs and making it hard to sit still. But he didn’t want to bother this one. Should he be able to aim for the neck... But he didn’t seem to be a threat... If he could lunge, pin the shoulders... He shook his head, and looked up to see that his chance to do anything had gone as the agent stood and walked back, out of reach of Carter’s chain length.

His thoughts drifted for a moment to the one that was left. Still out of reach. He stared carefully at him, then his ears twitched when he heard the drop of the younger man’s pen. He didn’t move at first, contemplating what to do. He was still calm. Still calm. Had to stay calm. If he got worked up... Showing his teeth, he lunged forward and grabbed the pen, biting hard into it and cracking the case then ripping it in half to let ink seep out. Pushing the ruined remains out from his mouth with his especially long tongue, Carter grinned widely and leaned forward, putting pressure on the chain and his collar until his breathing became constricted.

Then he felt it---the blood. It rose in his throat, and he backed away, sitting and trying to swallow it down. Between knowledge that heavy boots were clunking around upstairs and the one called Tomas nearby, Carter opened his mouth to let it go. Dripping through his teeth, the blood he’d managed to take in over a few days reversed its direction as this new stress started weighing on him.

Tomas started backwards, watching the creature rip apart his new pen. He had only bought it that morning, and now it was in ruins. He shook with rage and fear, glaring at Carter with an annoyed look. What he saw made him cry out with shock and run from the room. He ran upstairs and froze as he opened the door to the living area, where Detective Matthews and the grandparents were talking. He blushed and stared at his feet, mumbling an apology. The grandparents did not look impressed as he slid across the room and stood by Matthews' side.

"Excuse him, he is just a rookie," Detective Matthews explained in a brief manner, before throwing Tomas a glowering look. Tomas shrunk back, knowing that when his partner showed emotion he was in serious trouble. He stood next to the man quietly, unable to take any notes. He felt that he should mention how the teen had started to bleed, but he couldn't find his voice to do so. He had seen something similar happen to his father, after he had drunk a lot of blood. He had to vomit some back out as it had no place inside of him. Tomas shuddered, thinking about his father always gave him the chills. In some ways, he was glad the man was dead.

After Detective Matthews finished with his interrogation, several men from the Agency showed up in a dark van. They entered Carter's cell warily, all wearing protective clothing. They sedated the creature before dragging him up and placing him in the van. Matthews told the grandparents a few of the legal procedures and then the two left the house to follow the van back to the Agency.

The darkness... It was oppressive. Not like dream darkness, not like the dark that was his cell of a basement home. It pressed against him hard, straining him. He didn’t want to stay here. Twitching, Carter struggled to open his eyes, struggled to wake up. Wake up, ignore the burning feeling where they’d shot him with... something. Now he was rolling about on a hard surface. Forcing himself awake, Carter looked around. Bleary-eyed, he was almost blinded by the white interior of the vehicle, and when he let himself fall back again, the hard road leading into Central district bumped and hit his head on the floor of the van.

Turning over, Carter pushed himself away from the floor and back, losing control of his legs for a moment and falling again. As the van turned, he was pressed against it. They hadn’t tied him down. Hadn’t acted with much more action other than to toss him into the back of a transport van and take off. They probably thought whatever they’d put in him would keep him asleep. From the little mesh vent he could hear the driver of the vehicle speak: “Contacted Daren. Said to put him in one of the observation cells, high security. Make sure he’s not in danger, not infected or ill.”

“The hell is he, though?”

“Dunno, man. None of them do. Guess that’s what we’ll be figuring out.” The voice laughed. Carter growled, not loudly enough for the driver or the passenger to hear, but it was cut off quickly by a flood of rejected blood---it poured from his mouth, and he coughed harshly, bringing a hand up to brush back his hair, dig his fingernails into his scalp. He coughed, falling back, wiping his hands over his eyes. He was crying blood, by the look of it, and it seeped from his eyes slowly, as if he’d decided his situation was to cry over. But he didn’t feel sad. he felt very little besides confusion and anger. Confusion and anger. Coughing, he turned onto his side and felt somewhat lightheaded. Now his body was picking into his own blood source.

Tomas glanced nervously over at his partner. He was still unsure what they had been assigned to do by the boss. They sat in a small observing room, watching Carter in the other room. The doctors had to restrain him to collect blood samples and to help clean him up, as he seemed to have a habit of vomiting up blood. He had been dressed in plain cotton clothes, his hands restrained easily by adjustable cuffs. While no one was near him, they let his hands free, though the shackles still wrapped around the teen's wrists. The small room had a no windows and they made sure to use a special dim light that would not hurt him. It had a simple bunk bed on one side and a toilet on the other. This cell was supposed to be for the sick or injured, but Tomas couldn't help thinking it was simply a prison.

He hated how they had been handling Carter, poking him with all sorts of needles and forcing him into this place. The poor thing would be frightened if he had lived most of his life in that basement. He bit his lip and glanced down at his notepad. Matthews had told the boss everything, and she seemed more keen on finding out what Carter was, rather than punishing his grandparents for the years of abuse. Tomas had always hated the woman, but now that he worked for her, he couldn't protest.

Detective Matthews left the room, instructing Tomas to stay and continue to survey Carter in the next room. He watched the creature, writing down any notes that would be helpful. He wished he could go talk to him. It seemed that the teen had never had a kind word spoken to him in his life. He approached the window, knowing that on the other side it was simply a mirror. He placed a hand on the cool glass and said softly, "It's ok Carter. I will make sure they treat you kindly..." He wasn't sure why he had said this, but something inside him told him to be kind to the creature. He supposed that was his mother talking, even though that side of him usually only shone through for humans.

The ‘boss’ tapped her foot impatiently, standing at the end of the wood-floored hallway. This level, amongst most above the first ten floors, always painted and hung with easy-on-the-eyes lights, a place that would be enjoyable to work in. After a moment a new set of footsteps reached her ears, and she looked around. Blonde hair and clothes obviously preserved from an era passed by was the first thing that indicated Daren Snow’s approach, but the brown-haired accomplice, slightly shorter and wearing a light brown buttondown, was more than obvious. Daren came to a stop, as did brown-haired Matt Black, and stared for a moment at the woman. It had only just became evident that one of his hands rested over his chest, as though holding something in place. “Jessica. Have you brought in the couple holding Carter?” When he spoke, between a very slight wheeze, an English accent could be identified.

“I haven’t. I found no issue with them.”

“Ridiculous. Send a unit to their house and take them to the department.”

“They didn’t break a law.” Jessica took on a defensive stance.

“They didn’t? And who are you to dictate laws on my island? This is abuse, no matter how you look at it, no matter what race that boy is. Being locked in a disgusting, filthy basement, never let out, never given what he needs---I consider that abuse. Worse than abuse. If you don’t take them in, I’ll find someone better suited for the job. Like, perhaps, Matt?” He glanced around to his partner, who smiled a bit sheepishly.

Jessica glowered for an instant, then her eyes lingered on where Daren’s hand was. He followed her gaze. “Got stabbed. My lung’s not fully healed yet. Get going.” Taking his hand away to reveal a dark spot of blood, he pointed, and Jessica stalked away.

~*~

Carter stalked back and forth on all fours. The cuffs on both wrists jingled as he moved, paced, glared at the window that didn't allow him to see who was watching. Everything was too bright. Too bright despite the darkened light above him. It was too open. Too spacious. Too... hard. Clean. He’d gotten used to the ugly filth of his basement, the dampness, the easily-accessible blood from not only rats and mice, but himself. As he thought about that, he looked down to his arms, revealed now as he’d been forced into pure white clothing after a long decontamination bath. His arms, and his legs, were covered in deep scars, scratches that he’d inflicted upon himself as he’d taken his own blood.

Now he was locked up. He couldn’t bring himself to see his own blood again, despite feeling lightheaded, tired. That bed didn’t look too uninviting, to be honest... Carter stepped toward it, crawling up onto its thin mattress and curling up carefully, then glancing back at the window. Now that younger man was there, watching him. Carter didn’t feel like approaching. He was too tired... His head dropped as he fell asleep almost immediately.

Detective Matthews re entered the room, glancing over at Carter now asleep in his bed. He sat in the chair next to Tomas, peering over at the younger one's notes. He sighed heavily and took his hat off, his greying hair still neatly combed over to one side and his small black horns glistening in the dim light. Tomas glanced up from his notes, giving the older man a questioning gaze.

"The old couple are being brought in for questioning. This means another long night for me." He put his hat back on to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his dark eyes meeting Tomas' yellow ones. "You have been volunteered to look after this thing. Make sure you take plenty of notes. When it wakes up, you will go in the room to see what kind of responses you can get from it." Detective Matthews again looked over at Carter, a look on his face as if he was far away in thought.

"Sir... I don't have any say in this, do I?" Tomas asked, his voice quiet out of respect. He stopped writing and lowered his eyes. He wasn't expecting this. He wanted to go with his partner, to learn how to be a proper detective. He wanted to make the man proud, to prove that he was just as good as his father was. "Alright... I... I see... What I have to do." The Detective smiled at him softly as he stood to his feet again.

"Your father would be proud." With that statement, Detective Matthews left the room once again.

His dreams were usually faded and quick to pass, like shadows fleeting on the surface of a quick river. But now, in the white room full of white things and white light, Carter could see everything. He could see his arrival. When he’d still been in the back of the van, it had stopped without his realizing it, and the door had opened with gasps and coughs and gagging at the sight before the transporters. One had cried out, vaguely Carter could remember his words: “God damn! It looks like a murder scene back there! Get ‘im out, take that thing upstairs!”

They did. They’d put him through difficult, harsh cleanings, three in total, in a large white room. Men in white suits had come in with thick, rough brushes and scrubbed his skin with stinging liquids and scalding hot water. Then they’d strapped him down, rolling him through a few hallways, and poked him with needles, putting things in him and taking what blood he had left. Then they’d attached some large blood bag to him, which made him a bit stronger, but still kept him tired and lethargic.

Gritting his teeth, Carter opened his eyes and looked around. He’d thought it to be a bad dream, thought he’d be back where was familiar, a place that might have been filthy, cold and damp for half the year, but he recognized it. He knew what it was. This place... These people... He didn’t know any of it. Stretching slightly, Carter sat up and stared at his bare arms, outlining the scars. He knew how to talk. He knew a few words of the written language, and had learned to speak by listening to the television and his grandparents talking above the basement. He was no animal---but when he was treated as one, he acted as one.

Tomas was trembling slightly as he opened the door and entered the small white room. He had been waiting for Carter to wake up, and then to calm down from an obviously bad dream. As he waited to enter, he expected the doctors to come in with him. They gave him a bottle and cup, full with warm synthesised blood. This blood, Tomas knew, tasted and reacted like human blood, but was made using animal blood and fruit juices. His father used to drink it a lot, as it wasn't recommended killing many humans every day. Tomas wished that they made something for him, but as he was a rare species mix, no one even knew what he was.

He jumped as he felt the door close behind him. He blinked at the dimness of the white room, realising how bright it was even though there were was hardly any light. He had protested to the colour, of course. White had never been good for vampires. He slowly approached Carter, his hands shaking, making the cup clink against the bottle. "Hi there, Carter... Um... I have something here for you... Um... Are you thirsty?" he asked, keeping his distance in case the teen attacked.

Carter glared around as the door opened, but his gaze softened quickly when he recognized who it was. This one probably wasn’t much of a threat. He shook too much, like a lost kitten in a dog’s territory. Brushing back his hair, which they’d cut to half its original length, Carter slid slowly off the side of the bed and approached with straight posture as opposed to his usual bent stature. There was no more need to act like a feral creature anymore, after all. As he stepped up in front of the man, he found himself almost taller, but certainly not by much. Being in a tiny area most of his life had not only made his skin especially pale, but had stunted his growth by a few inches.

“I assume what you have is better than what’s in the bottle.” Carter muttered, but took the glass bottle from Tomas and uncapped it. He took a swig and grimaced at the taste, an artificial and terribly sweet, slightly thin concoction coating his mouth. “Ugh... Disgusting. People actually drink this?” He let his long, pointed tongue hang out, and a combination of drool and the bottle’s contents slicked to the floor. “Thanks, but no thanks.” Setting the bottle down, he went back to the bed and laid down. “What do you want, anyway? I thought I was here to be isolated or something. You being here kind of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?” Looking around, he studied Tomas. Not human. He wasn’t human, but Carter hadn’t been around anything other than his grandparents to know what humans smelled like and what energies they could give off.

"They tested your blood and concluded you are somewhat healthy... Well, you don't have anything conta... conatg... I can catch from you," Tomas stammered, surprised that he turned down the blood. "I am here to talk to you and study you... But if you don't want me, I can just send in the doctors to probe you some more..." He had no idea why he was threatening someone taller and more powerful than himself. He sighed and placed the cup and bottle down on a small shelf near the mirror that served as a window when standing on the other side.

"We need you to get better before you leave here, though," he explained, staring at his reflection. A small, timid thing with glowing yellow eyes. He turned away from it and surveyed Carter closely. "I'm pleased to see that you can understand me and talk. Is there anything we should know about you, to make your stay more comfortable?"

Carter sat up quickly. What power did he have over Carter? What power did anyone have over him? So far he'd only been met with a werewolf, a couple vampires, a few demonic-blooded characters, each evident by the words on their nametags that he'd read before and could recognize. He stood up slowly, walking on light, bare feet, clicking a bit like an animal stalking its prey. "Should anyone near me with a needle without my consent, a bloodbath will be on your conscious." He smiled his sharp teeth as he walked around Tomas, raising a hand and drawing it slowly through his hair, raking lightly across his scalp. "Lovely hair. You must take care of it." He chuckled, then breathed in sharply. "Well, if you do have to leave, tell them to shut the lights off. It's so... bright in here." Before moving away, Carter tugged Tomas's ponytail and went back to the bed.

With a light sigh, Carter let himself fall on the thin white mattress and covered his eyes with his palms, pressing down a bit to let tiny, pale bursts of light explode in the dark. It was better than that merciless rectangle of light above him. Uncovering one, he glanced at Tomas with one exceptionally black eye. "You're interesting. Hope to... see you around again soon."

Tomas exhaled shakily, finally finding his legs after a few seconds of paralysing fear. As he stared into Carter's dark eyes, he felt himself becoming lost in some unholy place. Part of his enjoyed it, the way Carter stroked his hair. He shook his head, hating his mother's blood. He left the room quickly, not sure what his orders were to do next. He was just glad to leave the small suffocating room.

He went to the observing room once more, finding his notepad. He scrawled a few notes, his handwriting messy as his hands were still shaking. He reached forward to the control pane and flipped on the microphone. He hated talking on these things, but he had to let Carter know that he was about to turn out the lights, in case the creature got confused or upset. "Um... It's me... I am about to turn out the lights, OK? We will be using an ultraviolet light for this room for now on. Um... Vampires are usually not that affected by this sort of light... If you have some vampire blood in you... Like myself... Um..." he forgot what he was going to say and trailed off, flicking off the lights and turning on the ultra violet lights. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to do so, and hoped that he wouldn't get in trouble.

Carter slid onto the floor before the UV light was flicked on, but when it was, his eyes widened immediately and he looked up. Beautiful. So... so absolutely beautiful. He couldn't stop staring at them, those spots the light came from off the ceiling, shining down and letting his clothes glow pale, but not harmful on his eyes. "You really know how to treat someone to a sight they've never seen before." Carter said, struggling to speak through his infatuation. Standing, he tore his eyes away from the lights and stepped toward the pane of glass that acted as half a window, half a mirror. His mirrored side showed his eyes, which now glowed an exceptionally bright blue, as if two tiny stars had replaced the black.

Leaning against the window, he had to stare at himself, but Carter was sure he was looking right at Tomas. "Am I not a vampire, then? Come and tell me." He grinned, and revealed his bleach-white teeth, which also glowed oddly in the light. "It'd be amazing if you kept them on for me, you know? You wouldn't get in trouble. I'm sure you wouldn't. Come in and talk to me face to face. Please?" He closed his eyes halfway, opened his mouth, and drew his tongue over the glass before moving back and into the room, turning his back to the glass entirely as though a switch had flipped in his mind.

Tomas slid backwards slightly as Carter approached the glass. He found it strange the words the creature was saying. He was happy that Carter enjoyed the lights. Tomas had loved them as well when he first started to work here. Seeing he had vampire blood in him, the glaringly bright office lights gave him headaches. He tried to spend as much time under UV while around these parts. It helped him think.

He wondered if he should re enter the room. He was only instructed to study the creature, not befriend it. Tomas frowned slightly. He hadn't been very popular in training. A lot of the other agents picked on him for his nervousness. He was often referred to as 'Twitchy Tommy', a name he despised more than who his parents were. He had never had the best relationship with his father, and his mother disappeared after she gave birth to him, as her kind often did. He was brought up mainly by his older sister, who had a different mother to him. Elise was a full blooded vampire, like their father, but she never treated Tomas like a filthy half-blood like he did. Tomas bit his lip.

He left the room and re entered Carter's cell with his clipboard and notepad. He decided to get a few more notes on the creature as it seemed to be calmed down by the lighting. Part of him wished to feel the long tongue run over his body. He shuddered slightly, pushing the urges away. "You are not a vampire... Or at least, not any we have ever come across... my father was one... Though you aren't very different from him... So you don't know who your parents were?" He drew in a breath to stablise his shaking body. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you who I am. My name is Tomas. My father was Draco and my mother's name was Kyndra." He didn't know whether to offer a hand or not, so he froze in the spot.

Carter looked up. No, he hadn't known the name of this one. Of course, he hadn't known the name of any of them. But thinking back, he thought he recalled that the big man, the one he felt might have demon blood in him, had called him Tomas before they had even met. Yes, now that he thought of it, he'd heard the older, taller man refer to him as Tomas as he'd been the only other one to arrive first before his grandparents had brought them down to 'meet' Carter. He sat on the floor and leaned back. "Hmmm..." he thought aloud, running his tongue over his teeth. Though they were exceptionally sharp, and he knew how to dull them to avoid a painful bite, he preferred them this way. It was easy to intimidate. "Mmm... No. No, my parents... were not related to those old people. They were friends. I just called them my grandparents to be... easier? Better than referring to them as complete strangers, mind. So I'm not entirely sure what I am. Never been told."

Restless, Carter stood. He'd been chained too long. In fact, the collar had made a permanent scar on his neck, and as he thought of it, he ran his recently-cut nails over the skin there. "So---Tomas." He muttered as he stepped around the somewhat older man again. "What are you here for? You seem so... so nervous. Too much to be employed at a place like this." As he walked, his circles became more narrow, sending him slightly closer to Tomas each time. A thought occurred to him, and he stopped right in front of Tomas. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked bluntly. "You're shaking like a leaf."

This was the most fun he'd ever had. Tomas was quite fascinating to bother, and now that he had someone to 'play with' was like the Christmas he'd never had. As he spoke, he brought up a hand and placed his pointed finger under Tomas's chin, studying his pale yellow eyes. A definite contrast, were his own eyes not glowing bright blue under the UV rays. "Why are you so afraid?" He asked slowly.

"Well, you should be pleased to hear that they are being charged with your neglect," Tomas said quietly, blushing as Carter circled him like a hungry animal. He was still shaking, partly by nerves and partly by repressing his urges. If he had no moral decency, he'd pin the creature down right now and let Carter have his way with him. Tomas stared into the now blue eyes, shivering at how unearthly Carter seemed under this low light.

"N-No I am not afraid... I just... I... I have bad nerves, OK? And I didn't really want this job, but seeing my father worked her for 50 years... I couldn't turn it away..." He glanced away, breaking the hypnotic gaze. "Detective Matthews, you know the big guy that was with me before...? Well, he told me that working here will help me master my nerves... I hope it does..." He laughed nervously, unsure to why he was talking to Carter like an old friend.

Carter frowned, then tilted his head slightly to look squarely at Tomas again. "That's a ridiculous thing to do." He said, and poked his tongue out from between his teeth as he thought for a moment. "You're taking your father's place. I can tell you hate him. You do the same thing I do when I saw my grandparents each day. You tense up. You hate your father but you decide you want to take his place. Probably some kind of... obligation, or they've guilted you into doing it. That doesn't individualize you."

He leaned close to Tomas' face. Now he could smell that he was a mix. There was something there... Vampire. He knew what that was. One of the men that had come to take him from his original home had been a vampire, that was listed on the white suit underneath his name. But there was something else. Something that wasn't human. Not human, and not vampire. Nothing he'd ever sensed before. Breathing deeply, he came to the conclusion he'd never figure it out on his own and backed away. "But, what do I know?" He sighed at last, and turned to look at his reflection. "I'm just a stupid kid that's been locked up since he was a child. I shouldn't know anything, should I?" Stepping away, he studied himself at a greater distance and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit. They'd combed it roughly while he was still in a daze, weak and unable to understand what was going on at the time. It felt much better when it was all over the place, like it had always been.

Tomas closed his mouth, realising that he had it open as the creature spoke. Carter seemed very intelligent for someone that had been locked away in a basement for years. He knew that what he was saying was true, but he gave Carter a defiant look. He couldn't believe that this teen knew him better than Tomas knew himself. It was rather nerve wracking. He watched as Carter backed off, ruffling his hair with a dark look on his face. Tomas felt sorry for him, being taken and drugged... His appearance and surroundings changed...

He relaxed slightly, though he couldn't seem to stop his hands from shaking. He glanced up at the UV lights, sighing loudly. "You know, my father was the one that found that UV lights are easy on a vampire's eyes. He tested on me, actually..." he went quiet, remembering the days and nights of staring into bright lights. "He got an award for it. They are amazing..."

Carter snorted at Tomas's words as he paced back around to his bed and sat down. It was a narrow bed, so he was able to lean back against the wall instead of lying down. "So your father poured light into your eyes on, what, a weekly or daily basis just to see if it'd calm you down or something? That doesn't really help me like him. I mean, it's all well and good, but it sounds like a form of torture to me." He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and looking at his nails. "Unless that's what you're into---" he chuckled, waving it off.

With a sigh, he rested his head in his hands. "So why are you still even here? I mean, in this room? Even I can understand this conversation's forced, and I know you're hiding some kind of... thing... from me. Are they putting you as my watchdog or something? My babysitter?" Carter shook his head. "That's almost laughable if it weren't so sad. A cute little thing like you couldn't possibly want to keep an eye on something like me, am I right?" He smiled innocently, sticking his tongue back out. He'd discovered early on that he could almost taste the air, pick out specific scents carried by surrounding items or people, mainly his grandparents---he'd never liked the 'scents' carried in his prison, but these were new, strange scents, interesting and, perhaps, addictive if he pinpointed the direct source.

Tomas sighed. Even he had no idea what he was doing. He didn't know why he was telling Carter these things, or why he was even bothering trying to make friends. He guessed that he had felt some sort of kinship with the creature. He had been neglected and locked away, with no friends and no kindness in his whole childhood. His father was ashamed of his blood and often starved him for years at a time. Because of his immortality, Tomas could go for a long time without feasting, but it made him weak and thin. If it hadn't been for his older sister, he probably would have died.

"I am here to find out about you... How you think, how you talk... I want to help you, so you can be released and see the world... And I... I guess I feel sorry for you..." Tomas said, unsure how Carter would react to his words. "I was just hoping we could be friends... I've never... You've never had anyone be kind to you...." He shrugged, feeling defeated. "If you want me to go, I will."

Carter glowered. "You feel sorry for me?" He snapped, standing. "You? You feel sorry for the likes of me? I don't need that! I don't need your pity. No one's pity. And I don't want anyone being nice to me." With a huff, Carter sat back down and turned away. "Liars, the whole lot of you. Think they can gain my trust and... and turn on me again, or convince me to get poked by needles or pins, put me into some kind of weird testing, trying to put thoughts in my head that aren't even mine... I don't need that. I don't need friends. I never needed friends, don't need them now..."

Carter's voice became soft as he muttered to himself, crossing his arms and keeping his back turned to Tomas even as the door opened. "Tomas." The new voice called. Daren's light hair seemed white under the UV lights, and his pale yellow eyes glowed. "Come on out, let's not work him up more than necessary. Let me know what you've got from him so far, and I'll plan the best course of action."