One Sees Mud & the Other Stars
He skimmed his hand from one handle a cell door to another. The hallway he was meandering down was depressingly white: white tile floors, white drop ceiling, white walls and white doors that lead to white padded rooms. It might make all of this look clean, not exactly comfortable but sterile and serious. Like a hospital. Except there're not patients here, there're prisoners. Each cell holds another pathetic soul, molted with bruises and crusted blood on their necks. Their injuries the only source of color. With every drop of their blood goes another drop of humanity, until they're released as something far different than what they went in as.
Until recently he was in a cell. Him and the rest of his crew. Runaways, hustlers, dealers and addicts made up his clan and him their proud warlord protected them in their warehouse kingdom. Till the monster came and picked them off one by one, dragged them back to his lair and...changed them forever. Or as he liked to put it, he gave them a gift...
It didn't feel like a gift. It felt like the jail sentence truly began when they were let out of their cells. The hunger overpowering and only quenched at his command.
His hand went from one handle to another, another cell, another future mouth to feed with an ever-shrinking food source. He started sliding the windows open too, looking at one poor soul to another, his mouth watering with the view of each new victim. It was rhythmic, a zen-like meditation that clawed him deeper into the pit of his pain. Sliding his fingers over the cold metal of one handle to another, opened the window to look at another poor bastard, feel the twin pangs of sympathy and hunger. Rinse and repeat.
Until he came to a door without a handle. He wondered if their creator was building more cells, creating more monsters, but the next door had a handle. He pushed at it experimentally. It didn't give. It was locked from the inside. He reached to open the window, to see what treasure could be inside. Only to find that too opens from the inside.
Maybe the creature could feel his presence or just see his shadow on the other side of the door, but that window did open and a large pair of bright blue eyes stared back at him.
This is a story of vampire politics. Of a undead man on a quest for power and control, not caring who he harms along the way. Perhaps too it is a tale of heroics in the most unlikely of places.
I'm thinking that the relationship between the men (platonic, romantic, dominance fucking) is just as important as each of their relationships with her.
PM if you're interested.