3.94
We spent
last night with the three of us in the same hotel room. Isaac slept as if he
had actually done something other than ride in the car and annoy Sampson. This
is a game to him because he hasn’t picked up on how serious Sampson is,
compared to his normal personality anyway. I read through more of Destiny’s
diary, familiarizing myself with some fighting techniques for daggers. She had
torn pages from some other books and taped them in her diary. When I reached the
section, it folded out in four different directions; turning one page to five.
I suppose she thought it would be important for me to keep learning and
improving my skills. It’s funny, she just wanted me to give in at the end, but left
me all the tools to keep fighting. While I study Sampson stares out into the
darkness, looking at everything and nothing all at once. The entire night,
neither of us slept. I felt like if I slept, he’d run off and do something
stupid.
I don’t
think it mattered because we’re riding around Magnolia right now. We’ve been at
it for at least the last two hours. He says we should familiarize ourselves
with the area our trial will take place in. But I’ve been on enough stakeouts
with Destiny to know when we’re looking for something, or somebody. He’s
looking for a specific person. He seems to spend most of his time focused on drug
deals. It’s a little marijuana being sold on a few corners, nothing to worry
about. Still, he’s watching the dealers hard, the addicts harder.
“Got one,”
Sampson mumbles.
“What,”
Isaac asks.
“Watch the
car,” Isaac parks and gets out the car.
I watch as
he approaches a dealer, I recognize the scent. No, I have to be mistaken, my
mind is playing tricks on me. I watch as Sampson says a few words, purposely
hushed and gravely so I can’t hear. The dealer takes a swing, no a swipe at
Sampson. Sampson dodges, but the dealer takes off running while he recovers.
“Watch the car,”
I yell at Isaac as I exit.
I run past
Sampson and after the dealer. Sampson is yelling for me to get in the car but I’m
not giving up the chase. His speed adds a third mark to my checklist. We cut
down an alley, out of view of spectators. I summon one of my nightmares and take
a wild throw at his leg, I miss wildly, but it draws his attention.
“Watch out
rookie,” Sampson yells.
I duck as
he goes over my head, bouncing off a chain-link fence, and then a concrete wall
before landing on the dealer. I catch up as Sampson throws a flurry of punches.
He wipes his knuckles clean of blood on the unconscious dealer’s shirt before standing
with a smile.
“All that
fancy knife throwing shit can’t add up to this real shit,” he laughs.
“Yeah, you
got me.”
“I told you
watch the car.”
“Yeah, but
then you decided to chase a werewolf alone.”
“He’s a
fledgling, can’t even turn without the moon. But good job spotting it.”
“What are
we going to do with him?”
“Kidnap and
torture,” he laughs. “Make sure he doesn’t get up,” I’m going to get the car.
I put my
finger under his nose just to make sure he’s breathing, but he doesn’t wake up.
It’s only then that I realize how young this guy is. Just wisps of patchy
facial hair. He can’t be any older than twenty. Probably got potential to do something
better with his life than selling drugs. It’s not my place to judge others on
how they survive, but it makes me sad. The Impala backs into the alley slowly,
Isaac looks through the back window in horror until Sampson opens the trunk and
blocks his view. That’s probably a normal reaction to all this, but I’ve seen
and done some crazy stuff. Sampson works fast, zip ties on the arms and legs,
not that it’ll do much against a werewolf, but follow protocol. Garbage bags
already line the inside of his trunk, not sure when he did that. We wrap our
victim in more garbage bags and toss him in the trunk before pulling off.
“What are we
doing,” Isaac nearly yells as we pick up speed leaving the area.
“Getting
some information,” Sampson responds. “We’re going to torture him to learn what
I need to know.”
“I don’t
think we need to go that far, he’s a kid,” I point out.
“A kid that’s
already indebted to a werewolf and thrown away any future he has. This is an
intervention for him. If we just let him keep selling who knows, he might
graduate to murder. But, we fuck him up one good time, and he learns a lesson,”
Sampson sounds so blunt about it all.
I ponder on
his explanation for a moment, it makes sense. Maybe, but I think there’s other
ways to educate than violence. Screams come from the trunk, our future victim
is awake. Sampson reaches into a CD case at a red light. He pulls out a bootleg
CD labeled Mista Don’t Play and jumps
to track 8 before turning the music up to max. As a vampire, it’s almost
deafening, and I can’t imagine it’s any different as a human, or a werewolf,
but the sound is covered and Sampson is almost dancing. I’ve never seen him
like this, almost as if he’s having fun with this whole thing.
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