[Closed RP | Marko and Colin- @boardwalk-anarchist ]
Santa Carla pulsed to life after midnight, flashing neon lights flooded out of the Arcades, the scent of the sea air mixed with the grease fried delicacies handed out from food booths. Music spilled out of every corner.. seeped into the pier.
People didn’t care- bikers and surfers prowled the boardwalk, missing posters scattered across attractions like wallpaper. Folks that lived here- they knew they belonged.
Colin didn’t.
He sat there, outside one of the games booths, a deep gothic literature book clasped between his gloved hands. His pin riddled messenger bag sat beside him at his boots. The poor thing hadn’t even been there a week and he’d managed to become a local target- particularly for the surfers.
Surf Nazi’s as the locals like to call them.
Colin however, believed there was a slither of good in everyone- he didn’t hold it against them, he never did. That’s just how he was programmed. Raised in a.. traditionally feminine household- he’d grown up learning his manners maketh.. the person.. in his case- now. The man.
Moving away with his mom had felt.. strange. She’d called it a fresh start- away from his father. The same father he’d been hiding from. He’d learned to make himself scarce.. invisible around him.
Humoured by a fresh start to a town donned ‘The murder capitol of the world’ Colin couldn’t help but be skeptical. He however kept an open mind for her..
He’d spent the afternoon wondering around the boardwalk.. trying to find oddities to pique his interest. His only luck being a tiny store at the edge of the pier, filled with creepy little trinkets and literature to his hearts desire.
One thing he couldn’t help but realise however- the unnerving amount of people that spoke about not staying out after dark.
Surely just a ruse to deter tourists.. testing his luck- Colin had decided to brave the night, staying out. He sat there, under the neon lights of the boardwalk, fiddling with his bracelets.. an autistic habit.. whilst reading his book. Enthralled by the scents.. the new faces and experiences.. he practically tuned out the ridiculing from ongoing locals.
Motorcycles.
Roaring came from down the sandy beach, making Colin flinch, the sound making him clasp his ears uncomfortably. Swallowing hard, he shoved his book onto his bag, his eyes flickering towards where they’d parked. By the stairs by the pier… shit- they were coming here. He truly was in no mood to get a beating.
It's been a long time coming by now... everybody meet Russell, my Lost Boys OC!!!
He was a tattoo artist who moved to Santa Carla from San Francisco in the 60s, and the LBs were very fond of his work and decided that they HAD to turn him because having the option to get a tattoo whenever they wanted was too cool LMAO. He's hot-headed, creative, and a bit too witty for his own good.
MORE RAMBLING AND FUN FACTS UNDER THE CUT
He lost his tooth in a fight a few months before he moved to Santa Carla, which meant he was one fang down when he first turned. The LBs helped him get a sick golden prosthetic to replace it, and he now flaunts it with pride.
When people out of the group ask him about the single fang, he always just claims it's because "he's Fang" (he made his surname his entire personality once he joined the LBs)
He has a conversational understanding of Cantonese.
In a modern setting he would be diagnosed with ADHD, Dyscalcula, and very severe insomnia. He's wholly unaware that he has any of these conditions currently.
VERY smart-mouthed and witty, he’s constantly roasting the LBs and getting roasted right back
He lets Laddie color in his tattoos with markers and sometimes draws temporary ones on Laddie's arm 🥹
His birth name is David. That was not a fun conversation to have with the LBs.
He's mildly allergic to tomatoes but that doesn’t stop him from eating them
He's a little bit jealous of Michael (don't tell anyone though...)
(ALSO PROVABLY IMPORTANT TO MENTION: MY VERSION OF MARKO GOES BY SHE/HIM PRONOUNS. That’s why he’s referred to as ‘she’ in the relationship chart!)
It was a warm summer evening in Santa Carla, a slight breeze flowing through the air as many of the shops along the boardwalk began to pack up for the night. Many, except for one- the records store, ‘Santa Carla Records’, still has its lights on with a lone employee rooming the quaint shop, seemingly taking stock of inventory.
His gaze flickered between a clipboard and the shelves, checking off and noting down what they did and didn’t have, picking up a vinyl every now and then to check its condition before moving onto the next.
He was so engrossed in the task, muttering to himself under his breath as he realized some teenager stole another walkman cassette when he wasn’t looking, that he didn’t hear the bell above the front door ring, jumping nearly a foot in the air when he turned to a costumer that had suddenly appeared behind him.
“SHIT- Fucking- gah-“ He startled, nearly his dropping his dropping his clipboard but managing to catch it after a bit of fumbling. Once awkwardly cleared his throat once he realized there was no threat, straightening himself up and plastering a well-practiced costumer service smile onto his face. “Welcome to Santa Carla Records! Best- and only- record store in town! How can I help you to-.. night?”
Summary: Y/n is camping with her family, when she encounters a dangerous man. She is kidnapped and transported back to the 80’s, where she encounters The Lost Boys.
Lore Note: In this story the events of the movie took place, with a few different outcomes. None of the boys die, but the big show down at Grandpa’s house still occurs, and it ends with Max and the Emerson’s coming to an agreement to stay out of each other's ways moving forward. Star runs off with Michael and takes Laddie with her. They still live in Santa Carla but they tend to avoid the boardwalk. The Frog Brothers take a break from vampire hunting, seeing that it is much more dangerous than they actually thought. They save face by saying they are turning their hunting skill set inward to protect the “domestic home front” AKA their parents and the comic book store. Other supernatural beings will be introduced through the story alongside the implied vampires.
Warnings: Y/n is female, Kidnapping, scary forest, gun violence, scared child, first chapter set up (I promise it gets better lol) swearing, mentions of violence against women, forced vampire turning?, creepy middle-aged man
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Chapter 1: The boys are going to love you
The leather creaks under my fingertips as I grip his leather jacket tighter. The wind whips against my face, forcing my hair into tangles that I know will take hours to get out.
But I don’t care.
He smells like licorice, salt, and pure danger. I pull my face closer to his neck, feeling his earring lightly sway back in force, hitting my check.
I inhale again; his lips quip upward-
“Y/N?”
My eyes fly open, as I quickly sit up on the half deflated air mattress.
My little cousin stands in the entry of my tent, dressed in a matching Five Nights at Freddy’s pj set.
Shifting from foot to foot he opens his mouth. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
I sigh and look at the fitness watch on my wrist. It’s 2am.
“Just go in the trees, where your dad showed you yesterday.”
He shakes his head. “I have to go number 2.”
“Of course you do.” I say with a smile as I untangle myself from the sleeping bag.
“Go wait by the fire pit, and I will be right there to walk you to the bathrooms.”
Eagerly he nods his head and runs out of the tent.
I search for my pants, since the oversized tshirt im wearing is not enough clothing for a walk to the camp bathrooms.
I hum as I shift through my back pack, and then look behind our drink cooler, then my….
Oh, there they are. My leggings hang from a hook in the corner. I forgot that I had hung them up the night before. We had gone kayaking, and my doofus of a brother had capsized us in an attempt to impress some college girls in a canoe.
I huff, pulling them down from the spot. They're still wet, but I have no choice so I pull them on. As I struggle to roll them up my body, I think back to the dream I had.
It was a nice dream. The same one I’ve had for the past few months. Sometimes it changes, like the man driving the motorcycle will smell like hairspray or gasoline instead. Or the leather jacket will change style or color. It’s an odd dream to have, but it’s better than a nightmare I guess.
I walk out of the tent, and zip it up behind me so no critters or mosquitoes will get in. I spot Mitchell sitting on a log by the fire pit.
It’s dark, and the fire has long since been out, but the coals still hum red, and offer a source of light, though it be a small one.
“Give me one more second Mitch.” I say as I turn to my parents tent.
“Okay, but hurry up! I don’t know how many more seconds I have left.”
Chuckling at my cousin’s comment, I unzip my parents tent half way and peek in. Their cuddled up together under a giant flannel sleeping bag. My mom’s cheek rests on my father’s chest.
I know I should wake my father and have him walk Mitch and I up to the bathrooms, or at the very least tell him where we are going. But they look too peaceful, so I decide not to wake them. I’m sure I will get an ear full tomorrow morning when he finds out I walked all the way to the bathrooms, in the dark, by myself.
But, that's tomorrow y/n’s problem.
I unzip the tent a little more and pull the locked gun case towards me.
My father never goes camping without protection and neither does any of my aunts or uncles. It may seem a bit paranoid, but we’re in bear and mountain lion country, and you can never be too careful. I type in the 6 digit passcode and the box clicks open. I pull out the hand gun, and grab a magazine of bullets. I check the chamber of the gun and make sure there is no bullet in there.
I take a step back and zip my parents back up.
My father has drilled gun safety into my head since I was a pre teen. I know how to handle a gun, and I know from previous camping trips he is fine with me taking his for occasions like this.
I place the magazine of bullets in my back pocket, and the gun on my other side.
I turn back to Mitch, who currently looks like he is going to explode. I quickly grab a Coleman Lantern, and thrust it into his arms.
“Okay little man, let’s get going.”
He jumps up from his seat and starts walking down the wooden path toward the bathroom. I follow close behind.
The light from the lantern is bright enough that we can see the path ahead, and a few feet around us.
It’s not a long walk, maybe seven or eight minutes tops. We make it about two, when Mitch speaks.
“I’m scared.”
I softly smile, though I know he can’t see it.
“I used to get scared too, out in the woods at night, when I was your age. Do you know what Uncle Damon would do to make me feel better?”
“What?” He asks, tilting his head back, but still keeping pace.
“We would sing his favorite song.” I smile again, remembering how scared I was on that very first camping trip.
There’s a short moment of silence, the sounds of the forest at night, and our shoes hitting the dirt ground filling the atmosphere.
He says, “can you sing it now?”
“Only if you sing with me.” I reply
He slows his pace a little, so that we are walking alongside each other.
“I’ll start, and if you know the lyrics join, okay?” I say
Mitch nods his head.
I clear my throat.
“Rising up, Back on the street, Did my time took my chances….” I start.
Mitch looks up to me “I don’t know this one.”
I smile down at him “yes you do! Just listen!”
“Went the distance now I’m back on my feet, just a man with his will to survive!”
I can see his face light up when he recognizes the song and we hit the chorus right as we see the flood lights outside the bathrooms.
We reach them, laughing and singing “ it’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight! Rising up to the challenge of our rivals!”
Mitch turns to me and hands me the lantern, before he runs into the men’s bathroom.
I love that kid, I think, taking a seat on a bench.
The bathrooms act as a little island of light, breaking up the darkness of the woods.
I continue to hum to myself as I wait for him to be done, and switch off the lantern to conserve the battery.
I look up at the sky. This must be the clearest night we have had in a long while, since I can see every constellation. There’s Cassiopeia….the Big Dipper…..Hercules…..
A branch snaps
The sound jolts me back down to earth, and I survey the foliage surrounding us. My heart beats quickly, but I don’t see anything. It’s was probably just an animal-
Another branch snaps, and I can see the outline of a shadowy figure walking toward us. It’s not coming from any of the paths which is odd, since you’re only allowed to camp on official sites, you can’t make your own…
A red flag raises in my mind.
I stand from my seat, and mentally check that the gun and bullets are on my person still. In the same breath, I mentally yell at myself for being so paranoid, they're probably just a regular camper who got a little turned around. The world would be a much better place, if we were all more trusting and had a little more faith in humanity I tell myself.
I breathe deeply through my nose, and then let it out through my mouth.
The figure penetrates the ring of light the bathrooms cast.
For a moment I have a hard time processing what I’m seeing.
The man is tall, with broad shoulders. He has a pair of computer geek glasses on his nose, and a sharp jaw line. The strangest part about him, though, is he is wearing a suit that's at the very least three decades out of fashion. He has a twig sticking out of his collar, and dirt covers his pants. He must have tripped and fell I guess?
Our eyes meet. He smiles with all his teeth. The wind picks up and blows some litter between us. An owl hoots from deep somewhere in the tree line.
“Hello, there.”
The second red flag shoots up to attention.
I was raised to be an inclusive and loving person, by my parents. To never judge someone based on their appearance or beliefs or ideas. But the vibes are hella off with this guy. I mentally check for the gun again, and nod friendly, and yet sternly back to him.
Hopefully he will get the message.
He doesn’t.
“I seem to have gotten a bit lost….do you have a map by chance?” His voice is crisp, and precise.
The sound of a toilet flushing fills the air, as I nod my head no.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t….” I pause trying to think of a way to get him to leave. “I believe there’s one up by the main office though. That way.” I point behind the bathrooms. “It’s a straight shot, no way you could get lost this time.” I try to push out a laugh to ease the suspense in the air, but it ends up coming out weak and high pitched.
I hear small steps, and then a faucet turns on.
The man just stands there and stares at me.
He takes a step towards me.
The third red flag flies.
I’m tempted to take a step back at first, but that would put me against the building wall. So I stand my ground, casually lifting my shirt up, pretending to itch my side, to show the hilt of the gun.
It works, and his eyes quickly follow the movement down to my side.
His head tilts, then his expression darkens.
The faucet turns off.
Small footsteps get louder, and Mitch walks out the door to my side. He looks at the man, confusion on his face as he then looks at me.
He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“Let's go, Bud.” I say as I turn the lantern on and hand it over. My eyes never leave the man as I do this.
Something is wrong, really wrong.
I push Mitch in front of me and tell him to walk. He does as he is told, sensing the tension in the air. I slowly walk behind him, but never fully turn my back to the man.
As we walk back into the woods, the man gaze never leaves mine until we’re out of eyesight.
Mitch is mumbling about something, but I’m not listening.
I take the gun off my side and reach for the magazine, I load it.
Mitch turns his head at the clicking noise , and stops walking.
“Keep walking, don’t stop.” I say sternly. His little brown eyes go wide at my tone. Never having heard me speak to him that coldly before.
He turns back and does as he is told.
I listen carefully as we walk, every sound has me on edge. I can hear my father in my head yelling at me for loading the gun, “you should never load a gun unless you are intending to shoot.” He would say. “Guns are not toys, every time you pick one up, remember there is always a possibility someone could get hurt or die.”
I breathe through my nose, trying to calm my racing heart beat.
I’m sure this will be a silly memory tomorrow morning, that I will laugh at myself for as we all sit in the sunlight, eating scrambled eggs from a cast iron pan and drinking crappy coffee.
A branch snaps.
Mitch stops walking.
I grab him by the arm roughly, and pull him along with me “don’t stop!” I hiss. I can hear the panic in my voice , and I know Mitch can hear it too.
He starts to cry “you’re scaring me y/n.”
My heart breaks for a moment, but I can’t feel it now, as adrenaline starts kicking at my heart like a rabbit who’s realized they've gotten a little too close to a snare.
I keep pulling him along, we are almost back to the site.
Something big moves through the foliage.
I look down at Mitch
“If I tell you to run. Run. You understand me? You run and you don’t look back, and you wake everyone up okay?”
He starts to sob, I grab his check
“Mitch, you are the strongest boy I have ever met and I know you can do it. You are so much braver than you think.”
Another branch snaps, and this time I can feel him behind us.
I whirl around, and raise the gun up.
The man smiles again, and I can feel my skin crawl.
I clip the safety off. The sound is deafening. Final. Deadly serious.
“If you take one step closer to us, I will kill you.” I muster as much confidence as I can as the words leave my mouth, but my voice still shakes.
He tilts his head again.
“Now, miss, there's no need for threats. I just want to talk.”
He takes three, quick steps forward with his hands out reached.
A thousand and one headlines run through my head. Dead girl found on side of road, woman with head and feet missing found in lake, the list goes on and on. And the rage of that knowledge, the rage of hundreds of thousands murdered and missing women fills me.
And I refuse to be another statistic. I refuse to die that way, at the hands of a man’s violence.
I pull the trigger.
For a moment I watch it all happen from above. I see the red. I see him fall backwards to the ground .I hear Mitch scream. I yell at him to run. He runs, the light of the lantern disappearing with him.
I’m frozen. Left alone in the dark, with a dead man on the ground.
That I…..
I killed.
I jolt. I feel cold and hot at the same time. I fall over and vomit.
I just…..I….he….fuck…..
I vomit again when I see the blood on my hands and shirt.
I’m still griping the gun so tight I know I will have an indent in my hand tomorrow, but I can’t let it go. My mind won’t let me.
I stare at him. There’s a massive hole in his chest, from where I shot him.
I dry heave.
I know I should move, try to walk back to camp. Get help. But I can’t.
His head moves.
My mind doesn’t accept it at first. It must have been a trick of the mind, I’m not thinking straight.
He moves again.
I jump back, on my hands and knees.
He moves his head right and left, like he is testing it.
His eyes open.
They're yellow.
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. This can’t be…..no I’m hallucinating….
I open my eyes again, now he’s staring right at me.
A rumble moves through his chest, as a laugh escapes his mouth. The hole…the hole isn’t there anymore.
I try to jump to my feet but I just fall backwards on my butt.
This…can’t….what?….
His laugh grows louder as he slowly pulls himself up. He towers over me.
“It’s been awhile since someone has shot me,” he laughs again, knocking his head up to the sky. “Ah…..And of course you're their mate. They couldn’t be bonded to an easy to handle girl, no, they had to be with Annie Oakley in the flesh!!”
I hear yelling in the distance. Footsteps trample the forest floor. My mother is screaming. My father is yelling. Someone is running towards us.
I raise the gun at him again.
He tsks, while tilting his head.
“Are we going to do this again, young lady?”
I keep the gun raised
“Who the fuck are you?!” I yell. Hoping to keep him distracted till my family can get to me.
His eyes gleam then, a grin takes over his face.
“Now, now, don’t use that type of language with me. You’ve got a foul mouth on you just like my boys.”
He takes a step towards me. I scoot back.
Before I can even comprehend it, he lunges, grabbing the gun in one hand, throwing me over his shoulder with the other.
I scream.
But he only tsks again, and starts walking into the forest off the path.
“Help! Help!” I scream “let me go!” I hit his back as hard as I can with my fists and swing my legs to try and get leverage. But nothing works, he’s like solid stone.
“Now I will have none of that.” He growls out, clutching my legs so tight I swear something sharp pierces them. His voice reeks of authority, and it sends raw fear down my spine.
I freeze. I know I should fight. I should scream.
“See? That’s better. I would have liked this evening to go in a different direction, but destiny must have had another plan.” He pauses, rummaging through his pockets. He stops when he finds what he was looking for, and throws it on the ground.
A wave of strong….wind….energy? Bursts around us, my vision goes white. The world swirls around us, there’s deep pressure on my skull.
I think I’m going to pass out.
He starts to talk again.
“Oh, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Max, your future sire.”
My what?…… my vision goes black, and I feel myself slip into unconsciousness.
