Welp, nothing's changed.

Except, for a few minor details. My younger sister got into a fight at school, and kicked ass.

You're damn right I'm happy, and proud of her. Some dumb bitch comes up talking shit, LOOKING for a beating, and gets exactly that. She got suspended for it, but that's a given.

They both did.

But what gets me, is the woman who is supposedly responsible claims "At least she can't blame me for that."

And you know, that's exactly what happens. The parents don't want to admit they could POSSIBLY be to blame for something that traumatized their kid to such a degree, that the kid goes postal or something. And look what happens.

The parents blame everyone else, more innocent people get hurt. And do they give a shit??

No. As long as they are vindicated without paying the price, well lah dee fricking dah, but that's okay with them.

Time for the talking to stop for awhile, and a story to spread it's bloody trail over my space.

* "We were just minding our own business, officer, I swear to god!"

"And where did you say the body was flung at you? "

"In the alley back there, on tenth."

The blue suited beatman sighs, knowing that he'll have to investigate until backup arrives. It's protocol. And who gives a fuck if there's something really shitty in there ready to leap out and eat him. I mean, hey, just another dead cop. They'll hold a funeral, toot their horns, and be weepy, but to what end? Oh justfication to rough up some local junkies and dealers. Word gets out a cop got dead, and everyone runs for cover. It doesn't matter what your deal is, suddenly you're to blame.

The couple, one pale male, one paler female were standing in black trenchs, one leather, one that putrid, cheap, soft shit that ripped if you looked funny at it.

They looked like they'd been standing in the barest cover from rain, only the minor detail of it not having rained in three months.

The cop would have ignored them, except for the simple fact that there was blood spattered across their faces.

Body or no body, the kids weren't cut, and blood doesn't fall from the sky.

"So you're saying you were minding your own business when you hear this shriek, and a body gets thrown at you? From the alley?"

"Yeah, we were just walking by..." The girl turned and puked up some black goo.

"Are you all right?" The cop asks out of courtesy. Not because he really wants to know, but he'll call an ambulance to deal with it if necessary.

"Yeah. She's dying. Nothing you or I can do about it. 'Cept maybe a bullet in the head" says the male.

The cop looks the kid square in the skull, and tries to laugh it off, knowing the kid is serious.

"Well I can't make you, but there's a hospital not far from here."

"Fuck that." chokes the girl. " They just want to poke me, and feed me shit, which makes me puke more. I'll die on my own thanks, I don't need their help."

The cop sighs, knowing that's what she would say. Or something similar. Fucking people. Just trying to be helpful, and polite and all that shit, and they blow you off. It's a good thing the samaritan didn't get his ass blown away, or they'd be telling a different story.

He looks back toward tenth street, and attempts to motivate himself to do his job.

"You kids wait here, I'll need to get this on paper."

"Yeah, sure."

He considers putting them in the back of the car, but he may need the space, and the girl might be contagious.

It's not like he's positive this won't end up some horror in tomorrow's papers.

He keys the engine into orgasm, and pulls up the few hundred yards to the alley.

He steps out, dissapoints the engine, and releases the snap on his holster.

Gun and flashlight in hand, he heads toward the dampness that shrouds the darkness, and fights back the urge to take off.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asks the body.

"Oh yeahhhhh." The body says in his head. "I'm fucking fabulous. This is the highlight of my DAY, man. Come have a smoke with me."

The only smoking this guy is likely to be doing is in hell.

The cop examines the body with a foot to roll it over. The body, now known as male, has been cut in a manner not likely to mean quick and painless.

Through the shreds of clothing on the front of the body's shirt, the cop can specific wounds tailored to spell something out.

How nice, a fucking game of scrabble on this guy's chest.

RAPIST; the letters spell. In deep and meaningful slices. The cop takes a longer look and realizes the body is "Johnny come lately." A popular sex offender.

The cop feels relief at first, knowing that Johnny is finally off the streets for good, but then the sense of duty knowing that as much as he hates and finds it ironic, now he has to bring Johnny's murderer to justice.

That *IS* justice man. That bastard is DEAD. No woman will EVER know his face again in terror.

"Ah but there are rules," mister angel policeman lectures on a shoulder.

"Laws must be upheld. We cannot be exempt, lest we conceive chaos."

"Fuck you." city pretty policeman says.

"Don't worry about it." a voice says. And female at that.

Cop man stands alert, and armed in her direction.

"Freeze!"

Freeze. What the hell do you think we're doing, stupid. It's not the fucking bahamas here.

"Sure. Whatever."

"What do you mean don't worry about it?" he asks, breaking protocol.

"I mean, it won't matter what the rules are, you're not going to catch who did this. "

"Oh?" he asks, intrigued as well as annoyed. You don't tell ME how to do my job. "And how do you know this?"

"Because I'm not catchable. By the way, that infant back there wasn't exactly innocent either."

The cop inwardly bangs a fist against his skull.

"I have you right here." He said, reciting from his retarded script.

"No you don't. You have a gun aimed at me, and are talking to me in an alley, but I am not going to come any closer, and neither are you. In a few moments, I'll be gone, and you won't have squat to tell your stupervisors."

Mister mister knew this was a fact, and did not try to argue.

"That guy was a rapist, and I saved a few more people from getting hurt because you can't do your job correctly."

Blue suit takes a minor amount of offense.

"I'm just doing my job. Just as you are trying to do yours. I catch the monsters you can't. "

The cop finally thinks to shine his flashlight up towards the voice's end.

With red hair, and dark eyes, she makes a stunning visual. Quite a contrast to the body in the alley. But there seems to be a shadow behind her...almost like wings. It's probably a trick of light and dark. No biggie. Besides, they looked more like bat wings, than angel wings, and she's not a vampire, is she?

"No.." she chuckles. "I'm not a vampire. In case you haven't noticed, there aren't any left. Except for the people playing a part, and if it weren't for vampires, they'd find something else to be."

"So then what are you?" he asks, not commenting on the mind reading.

"You won't believe me."

"Right. After all this, why not a little more insanity??"

"Fine. You ever heard of the legend of the succubus? "

"Yeah, a long time ago."

"They don't exactly tell it right, but...."

"You're one of them? So that means you fucked this guy before you...?"

"Well, no...but he looks plenty fucked to me."

The cop giggles a moment and realizes where he is.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Just what you wanted to earlier. Walk away and forget about it. Someone will find it later, and that girl is going to die tonight. As for the boy, well I have dealings with him. No one else has seen this, or you. "

The cop thinks on it a minute. "Yeah, sure, why the hell not. It worked for Eric Draven, didn't it?"

"Who's that?" she smirks. Then she turns and walks through a door.

The cop shakes his head, and decides to take the rest of the day off, so he can go to sleep and try to pretend it was a dream. Dreams are easier to live with.