The Other White Meat (open)

[Asmaa Darzi]

It was a Thursday, and Chinatown was always crowded on Thursdays. The perfect time for Asmaa to scope out her "Mongolian Barbequeue". It was dusk, and she her flip-flops slapped against the pavement as she made her way down the crowded streets. The only downside of crowded streets was that they were noisy. And too much noise made things a little chaotic for Asmaa. She had to focus a little more to make a straight path for her.

The clamor of fish merchants arguing over price with customers, and little children running a muck, and the shop owners shouting over the crowd to entice their audience was nearly deafening. But that wasn't stopping Asmaa from making her way slowly down the street. The smell of fresh blood was every where, and, unfortunately, so was the smell of fish. The two competed for power over the other in Asmaa's nostrils. And it almost made her dizzy. If anyone, blind or otherwise, wanted to experience sensual overload, go to Chinatown.

Fortunately there was a place where the smells of blood and fish were almost unnaturally strong. There was always one fisherman who's goods appealed more to these humans than all the others, and there was such a large crowd that one wouldn't notice a beautiful woman walk off with one of the many. She followed the blue beam of fish and the red beam of blood until the crossed and conformed into one purple blob. (It's okay for beams to cross here, it's not Ghostbusters.)

She was silently sniffing out her pick of the evening when another smell grabbed her attention. It was familiar. And that was what bothered her. Things didn't, and shouldn't smell familiar here. If too many shared the same hunting grounds things would get (for lack of a better pun) fishy. She couldn't pinpoint who the person was, but they were familiar, and that was enough to cause her insides to lurch for a moment. Or the fish, it could have been the smell of fish finally overpowering her. She stopped breathing, just in case.

In a calm, coool voice she turned in the general direction of the smell and said, "Hello."

[Chrystopher Cross]

Not since the hour had an intrinsic wave crossed intercontinental satellite airspace and made its way onto the breadboard of Chrystopher's cell phone. Fancy way of thinking about something that was as useless as a deck of cards (without the promise of cashing out on blackjack) when not in use. No, he'd long since turned it off. He was ignoring Nancy anyway. He was a big boy, and personal assistants were baggage after a while. Especially if your mother took the liberty of hiring one for you. No tits, no treasure. At least she could've gone for a more attractive help. Like Miss February--- yeah, now there was a personal assistant.

No, being contacted at a time like this wasn't exactly desirable. He was on business call, after all, and he didn't plan on being interrupted. The cool leather of the steering wheel slipped out from under his palms as he reached for the parking brake; he'd decided to drive himself today. It was always worth it. Whatever time out he could get, he'd go for. He slammed the door. There was no need to lock it; people knew him here. And he was pretty sure this was the only '93 make in Chinatown. Let alone the only Ferrari. Well, no, scratch that, because there was one man in particular who potentially owned twice as many luxury models as Chrys--- in fact, his eight o'clock appointment. If there was a hidden mongol of the Nikkei Trade Index, it was Ox Arai. Deal was, cushion Cross Corp. (it wasn't a slush fund, it was gratuity), get free "gifts" of the newest and most elite makes, for example, next week's present of a Scythe A190 (yeah, Chrys' newest masterpiece, not on the market until '95, but hey, a friend's a friend). Not to mention all the blood bait he was getting from the reallocation. But that wasn't important. All Arai did with that was exterminate the rats in the alley. "Rats".

Chrys appreciated the cleanup of his beloved city. So presents presents for Ox Arai.

He approached the backdoor of the Kyabakura, iddly swinging his keys in hand. It was a rather underground venue, but leave it to his business partner to run a place like that. He reminded himself to stop by later, as he needed a bit of fun as of recent. It wasn't very often you saw hostess clubs overseas, and asian chicks always cheered him up. But he stopped short when he heard a voice. And sensed something wasn't right.

"I suggest you take the night off," he started plainly, grip still on the handle of the door. He'd seen this one before, but didn't take his eyes off his keys. "Head over to Sunset or Melrose. West Hollywood's all drunks and homosexuals, y'know." He looked up and offered a gentlemanly smile. "Trash for the trashy."

His right hand fingered the cross hanging from his belt loop. And people thought it was symbolic. Ha.

[Mei Beauchene]

Mei often took trips down to Los Angeles' Chinatown whenever she visited. Eventhough she lived in San Fransisco, the asianic scenery and culture was always different in SoCal. She'd been wandering around the markets in search of new and interesting foods. She was never let down when she came down here. Sometimes she paid for legit groceries, and sometimes she ordered 'take out'.

However as she was rounding a corner, she noticed an acquantaince who looked a little perturbed. She couldn't say she was exactly 'friends' with Asmaa, but they got along amiably. (As far as vampires were concerned.) So she decided that she would just hit a drive through on her way home and cut her trip short this evening.

She jogged over to Asmaa, waving her arms. Which in retrospect she deemed idiotic, Asmaa couldn't see that she was waving at her, she was blind. I'm and idiot... she thought to herself. When she got closer she saw that the young man (who was rather handsome) had a crucifix on his belt loop. He knew about them, or was one of those Christians who put the "fun" back in fundamentalism. She walked up behind the man. The crucifix made her a little uncomfortable, but not as bad as it would be for a full blown vamp. "So, do you always go around picking on the handicapped?" She looked over to Asmaa, who was becoming visibly ill at the presence of the crucifix, "You alright Asmaa? You don't look so well? Did this man do something to you?"

She shot the man an unmistakable look. Mei may not be a full fledged vamp, but she sure fought like one. Vamps had to look out for eachother in today's world. She learned that the hard way in her 8 short years. Being a half breed made things twice as hard. Which never made sense to her, she wasn't too keen on fractions.

[Roxanne Jacqueline Versailles]

Roxanne moved easily along the street. It'd been a while since she'd taken to these particular streets. The smell of fish sent shivers up and down her spine - and they weren't out of happiness for the slimey things being all around. However, the smell helped to mask any other more tempting smells, and for that she was greatful. She'd only eaten yesterday morning and already she could feel a pang in her stomach. Her eyes roamed over the faces of men and women alike. Riley had told her that women tasted far better than men, but she didn't know the difference. Rarely did she drink from a woman, and then it was only because her lust was so great that she grabbed the nearest specimen. Her lip curled as she thought about it.

Her sneakers made little sound on the pavement, and the noises of the people all around her drowned out what noise she did make. Not that it was necessary right now. She wasn't trying to be stealthy. Not yet, at least. Suddenly, she reached an area where the scent of blood - human blood - was stronger than elsewhere. A slight headache curled at the front of her skull. Curious, she moved towards the group and her eyes found Asmaa and Mei. She wasn't very well aquainted with Mei, but Asmaa and her had known each other for a while.

Roxanne focused on the man, standing with his back to the vampires. Head tilted, she let her gaze wash over him. From what she could see of him, he was handsome, but his hand on a cross hanging from his belt loop made her frown. Her eyes darted to Asmaa for a moment. She wasn't worried about the vampire. But she was curious about the human. He seemed to have some knowledge of what he was dealing with, but just how far did that knowledge extend?

Mei's question brought Roxanne's head up. She was too far away still for the cross to truly affect her. Striding forward, she came to stand beside Asmaa, and her stomach clenched as her eyes once again went to the cross. Though she didn't want to startle the human with so many vampires being around - and she was quite certain that he knew what they were - she would be very put out if something happened to either of the females. And of course, then she'd have to kill the human and hear about it for days from Riley. She sighed.

"Asmaa." Her gaze went to the younger of the two. "Mei, how are you?" Her gaze went to the man. Her arms folded complacently across her chest as she shifted to lean against the wall, standing even with him. "I think I overheard you asking Asmaa here to.. well, to leave. And then called her trashy." Her lips curled into a polite smile, mocking his own. "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

[ooc: woot. more vamps for the human man.!]

[Asmaa Darzi]

Asmaa was not surprised that the boy had called her trash. At least it's not 'vermin'...she knew that Americans were a tad brash to say the least when it came to social graces. But she'd seen this guy around before. He was some pretty rich boy (she could tell by the sound that his cars made, and the sounds that the women made when he walked by...disgusting really), and that ony made things worse.

She hadn't had the moment to make a witty remark when she felt a familiar stab to her stomach. She hadn't actually been punctured, but it sure felt like it. It was rather uncomfortable to say the least. She slid her left foot into a forty-five degree angle. The movement gave her a clearer "view" of things. He'd been carrying a crucifix. Smart fish... She smirked. And her void for response was again interrupted by an outside force. This time it was Mei.

Asmaa hadn't been expecting for her to show up around these parts. Mei had to live at least 500 miles away from Los Angeles. That doesn't exactly mean anything when your a vampire (or whatever hybrid beign she was), but her presence was unexpected nonetheless.
Mei had come to defend her "friend". She smirked. Mei had always called them 'friends'; she'd never said " hi Asmaa", it was always "hi friend!' Asmaa found it amusing, it was such a juvenile term. But what did she expect? The girl was eight. And it was only natural that she respond to the current situation like a normal eight year old girl- irrationally.

It must have been the surplus of fish in today's catch that threw off the scent of the other girl. It also could have been the fact that she had been relatively newly turned. Whatever the reason the fish or her new-ness to the game, Asmaa hadn't smelled the new girl-Roxanne something. And was again surprised to notice that this guy had just gotten himself surrounded by three vampire women. How unfortunate... Asmaa thought. Again, this girl was here to defend Asmaa. And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Asmaa was not some weak, defenseless, crippled being that needed to be protected. She was a cold blooded, manipulative, heartless, souless, killer.

"Now now girls, play nice," she smiled, "To him" she continued, as she began to circle him in very, measured steps, "Anything not covered in Gucci is trash. Isn't that right cake eater?" She chuckled. Coming back around to his front. Ignoring the uncomfortable pang in her gullet from that ecursed amulet of his. Who would've thought that two pieces of wood would mean anything to an immortal creature?