Continuities » Solo » pull the blackout curtains down
Jul 27, 2017 4:30 AM
Miles in Sunnydale
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Okay, the immediate aftermath of a mission is frequently a bit of a blur, particularly when he's been badly injured. But Miles could've sworn that the last time he was conscious, he was with his fleet.

He is not currently with his fleet.

He is currently lying in a puddle in some nameless dirtside alley, squinting up at a reasonable facsimile of Earth's most famous tourist attraction. This seems unlikely to actually be Earth - they were more than a few days' travel away from it, last he checked - but that silver half-circle sure does look like Luna.

Can he move? He tries moving. Nope. No, he cannot move.

"Fuck," he mutters.
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Footsteps. A pale face appears in his field of view, smirking down at him from a vantage behind/above his head.

"What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"
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He considers this question fairly for a few seconds, then answers, "Bleeding."
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The stranger laughs. "I noticed."
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"Any chance of a little help?"
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"Well, depends what kind of help you want."
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"I was thinking maybe medical attention. You know, if it's not too much trouble."
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"I could do that, I guess. Pretty sure you'd lose the hand, though."
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"Believe me, I'm familiar with the state of the art in bone replacements. It's totally more repairable than it looks."
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"Oh boy," says the stranger. "Hate to break it to you, but there is no state of the art in bone replacements. That's not a thing."
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"I... what?"
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"So, welcome to Sunnydale! Weird stuff happens here. Dunno where you're from where people dress like that and carry freaky ray guns, but in this reality, the state of the art in human medical care doesn't involve replacing anybody's bones."
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Miles processes this statement.

"...Are you about to offer me nonhuman medical care?" he inquires.
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"I was thinking about it! You're pretty cute."
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"Thank you," he says dryly. "Okay, I'll hear your pitch. I'm hardly about to stumble on better options down here."
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"So, I'm a vampire."

His forehead hardens into a ridged snarl. He grins, displaying fangs that weren't there a second ago.
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"...Yesterday I would've told you vampires didn't exist."
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"Maybe they didn't in Ray Gun Land."
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"Okay, you're a vampire. How does this help me?"
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"I can turn you into a vampire," he explains. "It's kind of inconvenient, some ways - you catch fire in sunlight - but you don't age and you heal really well and you can only be killed by fire, beheading, or a wooden stake through the heart. And you drink blood, obviously, but like not necessarily human blood if you don't want. And it'd fix your arms right up good as new."
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"I'm... moderately tempted. But I have only your word to go on, here. What's your name?"
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"Zeke."
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"Pleased to meet you, Zeke. I'm Miles. What's your interest in turning me into a vampire?"
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"You're unbelievably cute and I don't want you to, like, die, and if I leave you lying in an alley with both your arms broken you'll probably die, this isn't the world's safest town."
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"I've talked my way out of worse situations, trust me, but fair enough," he says. "What's the procedure for turning into a vampire?"
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"Oh, we drink each other's blood and then I haul you back to my crypt and wait for you to wake up good as new."
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