The collar was snapped tightly around my neck. A long, silver chain connected to a humiliating link that dug into the leather strap, trailing away to the wall where it'd been seared into brick. I was on a leash, lying on the cement floor wearing the same clothes from last night. I squirmed awkwardly on the checkered quilt Mr. Fang had laid out for me; like a dog's bed. I suppose he expected me to sleep down here.

[]

He'd appeared to me before the sun rose, cloaked in black with a dark scarf sheathing his features.

At my bedroom window.

In my apartment.

On the fourth floor.

I thought I was dreaming. If I was being completely honest, I'd seen him once or twice in my sleep before. On the edge of the screen. Behind a line he could not cross. Never in the foreground, but somehow near me. And, what did he do? Nothing. Just watched, grinned, and offered to buy me a drink, each time distorted and plain. Mr. Fang always faded from the dream eventually; like wiping away candle wax from a glass window, smearing his features from a disingenuine background.

But, for as long as I stared at him that night, watching the man perched atop the windowsill, he would not disappear. He did however ask if I could make him a Mojito, which I agreed to do. Hell, it was a dream. Might as well make a drink while I was at it. I wasn't sure I could make it to the kitchen with so much glass on the floor, being he'd broken my window. Then again, it wasn't like I'd get hurt . It wasn't like any of this was real. I sat up from the bed, dangling my feet over the edge, looking at the pretty shards that twinkled before me against the pale of moonlight. Like stars. I would be engulfed by stars.

One heel to the ground instantly alerted me of the searing pain shooting up my leg. I lurched up, clambering back on my bed with a call of surprise. My hand went to cradle the injured foot in my lap, fingers rubbing over the attacked flesh. There, at the base of my heel, was the hard protrusion of glass, along with a throbbing sensation when I so much as prodded it. I felt a slick wetness against my skin. Blood.

I wasn't dreaming.

That's when he took me. As though a thief in the night, looming over me before drawing my body to stand. Mr. Fang grabbed me by either shoulder, pulling me to his chest and ducking out the window. He was strong with arms like metal bars, keeping me settled within the cover of his black cape, shifting from rooftop to rooftop. At lightning speed; graceful and soft on the landings, but nauseating with every crouch, launching us through the air. I hardly processed the journey, aside from a few swift turns that made my head justle.

I didn't even have an opportunity to fight him off. By the time I got the first shot in, my left fist seemingly smashing against hard marble when it made contact with his cheekbone, we were already some place completely different.

The Red Cross - After Hours.

He slowed down after that, holding me by the waist and wrist while I thrashed around uselessly. Guiding me inside, I took several shots at his shins. Kicking around, hissing, and taking chomps at either of his hands, my body worked to free itself. Mr. Fang was unfazed, only asking me to calm down, lest I strain myself trying. No part of my body restrained by him moved. As though literally encaged by a marble statue. I could only hope to break the arms off.

"What are you doing?! Let go of me!" My legs kicked out, flailing around, trying to create traction against the polished dance floor. When he moved, it wasn't to regain his grip on me. He had me just fine . If anything, it was only to make my positioning more easy to carry. He manhandled me, holding me by the elbows as I was forced to follow his guidance.

"Calm down. It's okay." Mr. Fang repeated in my ear, all the while continually leaning into me as I was pulled closer from behind. We travelled over the dance floor, past the lounge, and behind the bar counter, where he let go of me for a moment. He bent down, lifting a corner of the browning mat placed in front of the beer tap.

In that instance of freedom, I took the initiative of grabbing one of the bottles - Indian Single Malt Whiskey- and smashing it over his head. Mr. Fang didn't so much as flinch, only registering the impact on account of noise and the sudden moisture he felt slide down his back. Other than that, it had as much effect as a nat. He lifted up the mat, exposing the hidden little door underneath. Tugging at the loop handlebar, the wooden door came open with a creek, revealing a long, drawn out staircase built of stone and cement.

My heart started banging, peering below as the steps spiralled down and down and down without end.

"Come along." He gestured for me, already a few feet shorter than originally, steeped in the mysterious entrance like a bottomless trench. I shook my head vigorously, only backing away as I placed either hands on the isle. Could I outrun him? Ugh, who was I kidding? Of course not. I couldn't fight him off. The costume I wore didn't have any pockets, meaning my gun was still under my bedroom pillow.

His hand went out for me, and I flinched back even farther. But, he wasn't grabbing for me. It was a sign of offering. He was waiting for me to grab on.

"What are you waiting for?" Mr. Fang asked. I wet my lips, viewing the entrance with overwhelming distress. No one knew where I was. I didn't have anything to defend myself with. Not even a phone to call for help. In any other situation, running away would've been the last thing on my mind. This was pretty much a confession, after all. He was at least playing a hand in the missing people reports, if not running the whole show. And, I was just about to figure out his game.

But, I was unprepared. Lost. Tired. As embarrassing as it sounds, I was kind of... Scared. What if I went down and never came back up? What did he want with me? A chill overcame me when the thought was brought to my attention.

' You are a prostitute, Dipper. What do you think he wants?' I could feel my throat close up.

"Wh-." I bit my own tongue, stopping myself before panic could overtake my vessel. This is my job. This is my job. And, I'm getting all the details. "What's down there?" I asked.

Mr. Fang looked at me pitifully, a kind of warmth out of place in this scene. His hand stretched out for me, and this time he took the initiative. Grabbing my wrist, he pulled me towards him, forcing my feet to the first step.

" Safety ." He led me down.

[]

I curled up more tightly in the checkered blanket he'd draped over me. After restraining me, of course. One harsh yank on the chain around my neck proved how strong it was. The straightening of linked metal in my hands as I pulled ruthlessly filled me with restlessness. I'd been down here for what felt like hours. Not days, obviously. I would've died of starvation by then. I was a little hungry though, suggesting it was sometime around lunch by now. I never eat breakfast.

The room Mr. Fang had placed me in was dark; damp and dripping like a medieval dungeon. No light. Maybe a few tiny streams from the room above, indicating some time around noon. But, all it did was lighten the far corners. I was completely blind.

And, what could I do at a time like this? Listen. Closely; intently. Over the hours, I made out the distance rattle of chains. Bare feet pacing. Patting along the cold flooring of marble. I noted the shuffling smooth of skin against stone walls, searching for some kind of doorway or exit. Soft weeping perhaps, if not just the uneven snoring of a drunkard.

Prisoners.

Again, I pulled on my chain, met once more with the stubborn resistance not unlike an untrained dog.

" Ah... Shit ." I sighed, leaning my head back to rest against freezing bricks. I heard the rare creaking of that hatch open above us, followed by hidden footsteps as someone made their slow descent with tapping, rubber soles. A shake of chains to my left or right seemed to greet the new party member.

No one spoke, whoever was down here. The door above closed before a light could shine over their faces, making for a mysterious allure as my blind eyes trailed the path of clicking heels along marble floors. It'd happened several times: Someone entering under the shield of darkness, only to entice the heavy shaking of chains. Like a hardy shiver throughout the cellar. A muffled cry. Soft, broken, and stuffed quiet. The figure would leave afterwards, climbing back up the steps and opening the hatch.

The footsteps were different each time. Some light and airy. Others heavy, with deep steps that seemed to draw for long periods of time. Many passed over me, their journey crossing but never touching. Some, though, stopped in front of my path. For only an instance. Still. Standing still, my eyes adjusting to the dark room, able to make out broad shoulders that squared towards me. Once, I'd tried speaking to one. They just passed along, though.

Like this one. Standing still. Watching. I was certain they were watching. However they could, in such darkness. The light shuffling of cloth. The smoothness of flesh over skin. A bare sigh pointed at me. I said nothing, confident this one was just as silent as the last. They were. After a moment, the body continued its walk, the heavy sound of chains welcoming it.

When they left, orange light spilled from the top of the steps and a kind of sadness swept over me. I could scream for help if it ever came to it. But, who would hear me down here? Not even the beings sitting in the room over responded to me when I cast my voice their way. Only shook their chains. My mouth went dry.

"Are you enjoying your stay?" I couldn't help but gasp at the sudden voice, materializing out of nowhere. It was thrown my way from the front, looking me right in my blind eyes as he spoke. Mr. Fang . I hissed, lurching forward in frustration, only for the leash to hold me by the neck. My throat closed for a moment, forcing my hands to shoot up before tugging at where the leather had chafed me. He chuckled. "Careful, now. It's tight."

"No shit , it's tight. I would've kicked your ass if it wasn't." It was a bluff, of course. But, still packed with enough fire to satisfy my ever mounting boredom.

"You wouldn't hurt me." Mr. Fang's voice sounded almost hurt, causing me to snort at him. The leash may have been a better choice than I thought, because I was suddenly overcome with the urge to lung for his throat. I settled for a low growl. "I saved you, pine tree."

"Yeah. I'm leashed up wearing a skimpy latex two piece, trapped in a dark room with no contact to the outside world: My hero." I crossed my arms, eyes shifting from where his voice was. My hand drifted to my waist, pressing to the hard floor as my palm slid along its surface. I felt a tiny pebble bump against my nail. "Mind explaining what I'm doing here?" I took the small rock in my hand, boredly tossing it in his direction. By the way it made instant contact with the floor, I could tell I'd missed him completely.

"I'm keeping you safe." Was Mr. Fang's response. I only laughed.

"Oh, is that what all these people are doing down here? Being kept safe ?" A few silent chain-shakes came to aid in my point.

"They weren't in danger like you were." His dark silhouette came closer. I slid back.

"Oh? And, what was I in danger from, exactly? You know, besides being kidnapped ." Mr. Fang took a long step towards me, forcing my legs to shuffle in. I could feel the base of his dress pants tickle my bent up legs, now leaning over me like an umbrella. His eyes glowed red against the darkness.

"Your partner ." His voice was grave, cast down for me to ponder. But, I didn't. Only snorted instantly, hands going up as I shook them with mock-fear.

" Oooooh ! My partner . Yeah, Bill's a real threat ." I couldn't help the condescending tone that sliced through me, automatically disregarding him. This was some weird tactic captives liked to use against their prisoners. It wasn't easy inflicting stockholm syndrome on the first day, but give it time. He'd try convincing me of the outside world. People close to me weren't as they seemed. It was only safe down here . Bullshit.

Mr. Fang was anything but pleased by my response. I'd looked down, shaking my head with a laugh, only to feel the chilling card of fingers through my hair. His hand clenched shut around my roots, forcing a deep snarl from between my teeth as he yanked my head back, eyes going wide when I stared into the man's snake orbs. The glow from his irises illuminated his features, highlighting his cheekbones and the barest poke of sharp teeth that began to peek from his lips.

" Don't mock me ." The authoritarian tone he took made me wince, as though it intensified the searing pain of my scalp. I tried to shoot him a look of anger. Of rage and stubborn bravado. But, with the way his grip continually craned my neck back, I couldn't so much as breathe right. "Be grateful I took pity on you. You'd be a dead man otherwise." I couldn't stop the shakey, strained laugh bubbling from my throat at his words.

" Ah-! Oh, thank you so fucking much, asshole! " I grit through my teeth, placing a hand on either of his, trying to pry him from me. He only shook, my eyes momentarially rolling back as he pulled my face closer to his. His hold tightened, placing his left hand under my chin to keep my face up.

"Watch your mouth, pine tree." Mr. Fang soothed casually, as though talking to a child.

"It's Dipper ." My eyes slit into a glare, willing as much hatred as I could from my being. Which, for someone getting his hair ripped from his scalp, was impressive.

"Alright, then. Dipper. Watch your mouth, Dipper. You have no idea who you're dealing with." I sneered at him and his proper demeanor. It was infuriating, hearing someone so upright- so damn polite - maintain their disguise even as they were caught red handed. Even when they were shit, and they knew they were shit. When everyone around them knew they were shit, and still, they held themselves with the regard of a gentleman.

I spat in his eye.

" I know exactly who I'm dealing with- ." The harsh slap across my face had me losing consciousness, a flash of white slicing my vision before I snapped back to reality. Mr. Fang still had me, hair in hand, thumb pressed into the cheek he'd assaulted. He looked at me with kind, sorrowful eyes, tutting his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment.

"No, you don't. You don't know Bill at all." He dug his thumb into my skin, pressing down with bruising intent. I grit my teeth, trying to lean away from the pressure, only for his other hand to pull me into it.

" Oh, were we still talking about Bill ?" I managed a supercilious tone even in my position, hoping to compensate for the goddamn respect I'd wasted on this guy. Mr. Fang laughed, wiping away the spit from his eye.

"You don't even know you're in danger." Like hearing a sad tale with an ever-tragic ending, he feigned pity. "Even when it's staring you down." His eyes dropped a shade, switching to the crimson red of a bleeding rose.

" Bill's- ." He tilted my head to the side, making me hiss out in pain. He left my neck perfectly exposed as I continued. "- not fucking dangerous. "

"Oh, but he is. I should know." The hand under my chin left me, now sliding to cool his fingers along my throat. "I used to work for him." My ears perked up at the statement. Work? He worked for him? A guy that lived in this part of town? That had this sort of a business? And, not to mention, kept spare rooms like this under his establishment?

It wasn't all that far fetched, actually...

" Wh-what ?" I croaked, teeth ever bare against the strain of hairs being plucked from my skull.

"You heard me. I worked for him. Back in the day. I was a minion of his." He sighed almost fondly, looking down at me with the clouding wisp of what looked like reminiscence. "We had some good times back then, Bill and I. He really liked causing a bang wherever he went. Still does, I'm guessing?" Mr. Fang looked down at me as though for confirmation, but I stayed silent. What was he talking about? What kind of business were these two in together?

"Yeah. Real loud mouth sometimes, but he's smart. Classy . I've never respected a man more in my life." His eyes went from me, now staring at the wall ahead of him. There was something about his gaze- the way his brows knitted up and his lashed drooped- that gave a sadness about it. A soft intake of air brought him back after the silence. "But, he was crazy."

Again, I couldn't help the weak laugh crawling through my throat. Crazy ? Said the guy keeping people in his cellar. Bill was eccentric . Sort of like me, in a brain dead, pointless kind of way. He had a way of doing things. A way of talking. Of being. He was headstrong; confident. Unhinged, yes. But, not crazy .

The crazy one was Mr. Fang.

"It wasn't until he'd taken it too far that I realized he was a monster. Amazing, no doubt. But, a monster all the same." He shook his head. "I should have seen it coming. Now, I must live out my days redeeming myself."

" Is that what the strip club's for ?" He didn't look at me, once again staring off into space. After a moment he stood, releasing my hair, and I couldn't hold back an embarrassing cry of relief at the alleviation of pain. My hands went instantly to sooth at tormented flesh, sighing as I carded fingers through my brown strands. A sigh passed my lips, only to feel his hands back on me. I flinched, trying to pull away, but he was immovable. Obviously. His hands rested on my shoulders now, eyes intense.

"When I found out you worked for him, I couldn't bear the thought of you at his mercy." My lips curled in, knowing perfectly well what would happen if he caught me laughing again. My cheek still hurt from his last slap. A cold, hard feeling that swelled at the skin. "So, I stored you away with my..." His hand rolled through the air, searching endlessly for an appropriate word. After a minute of thinking, his lips parted again. " Charity work. " He finished.

"... Charity ?" I looked into his eyes for any sign of humor. He was dead serious. "What kind of charity?"

"I guess you could call it blood work, young one."

"What's the technical term?" I tested. Mr. Fang sighed, releasing me once again before stepping back. I followed his glowing red eyes as they shifted around the room, looking at whatever it was he could see in such a black place. They lingered for a moment, only to snap back at me.

" Snacking ." He said. "My people call it snacking."

"Your people ?" I sat back on my hands, watching him with careful eyes. "Who exactly are your people?"

Mr. Fang paused at my question. His eyes looked away, then back, then away again. After a moment, his gaze seemed to smile, and he let out a low chuckle. He shook his head in amusement, tutting his tongue playfully.

"You really haven't figured it out yet?" I could tell by his tone of voice he was grinning ear to ear. He, once more, took a step forward. Even as I scooted away, he found my shaded body in the pitch black room, coming up and staring at me with his beady red eyes. "I'm being so obvious , though!" He crouched down, now eye level with me. I could hear the soft shuffle of his suit, watching as the dark outline of his body twitched. His arm went up, placing itself just left of my neck.

"I'm not a fan of charades." I spat back, even as he grew frighteningly close again. The throbbing of my head kept me worried.

"Ever heard the term blood sucker? " His eyes came closer to me, inching towards my face as he spoke. While I stared back, his other hand went to grab my chin again. I didn't so much as move, a frosty chill zapping through my senses where his index met the underside of my jaw.

" Creature of the night? " Mr. Fang added as he tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck once again. This time, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. I began to struggle, kicking my legs out against him as he drew near, but it felt like jamming my toes again solid granite.

"Does Dracula ring a bell?" He cooed, ducking his head to come face to face with my neck. My breathing grew heavy, knowing perfectly well what he meant to do. Even if it was pointless, I had to try fending him off. I pressed my palm against his forehead, while my other went to hold him at the shoulder. His cold breath drew out along my flesh, and true fear finally met me.

I felt two needle-like points resting against my skin.

"No! Stop! Get away! " I said, chest heaving and heart beating when I felt his nose brush along my jawline. His teeth sat against my flesh, ready to sink themselves into me. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, the dropping of my stomach all that tethered my sanity as he tested a small poke. It was hardly anything in retrospect, but the sheer thought had me wailing in distress.

I squirmed and whined, trying to wiggle my neck away from him. He just sat there though, plugging the single puncture he'd made with his left fang. And after a moment he drew away, taking his tongue to ride a strip up my throat as he lapped up the blood. I was still huffing in fear, shaking feverishly as his hands slid from my shoulders to around my waist. He laid a single kiss on the wound.

"You're wonderfully tender. I hardly had to press before you started bleeding." My lip trembled, shivering as he spoke softly against my neck. His head was nuzzled against my shoulder, a cold breath puffing out to coat my flesh. He gave me another kiss.

"I couldn't stand the idea of Bill hurting you." His dead lips brushed the base of my chin as he smiled. "You're just so full of life ."

"Th-that's 'cause I'm not dead , dumbass." I willed something deep inside of me there. Something usually reserved for Bill. But, now. Here, with a blood draining vamp, I needed all the strength I could get. He chuckled against my neck. I shied away.

"There is no dying here. Only draining."

" Draining..." The words drifted from my lips, my mind going foggy with fear as Mr. Fang sucked in a breath, nuzzled closer to my neck, and blew it down my side.

"My people." He began. "They're starving in Doe town." He seemed to snuggle up on me, hips pressed to my side, almost spooning me as he spoke. He pet my hair, blowing a few strands out of the way.

" St-. Starving? H-how?" I tried to turn my head, but his body simply being there was restriction enough. I couldn't even tilt my head with his under mine.

"We're vampires, Dipper. We thrive on blood." Mr. Fang paused, only to pull me closer. "The blood's bad here, though. Alcohol poisoning. HIVs. Hepatitis B and C. The whole shebang. When I first got here, vampires couldn't so much as sip from a neck without fear of catching something." The distant shaking of chains pulled my mind from him, only for him to lick my neck. I gulped.

"Why not go somewhere else for blood?"

"Eh, it's out of the way. I wanted to make a place convenient for my people to thrive. Somewhere safe, with donors I knew were clean." My breath hitched, feeling him shift just a little. His body was moving over me, chest sliding along my shoulder as he finally lifted his head. Mr. Fang's eyes were a vibrant red. "I did this for good, Dipper. I'm a good guy..." By the way his eyes got closer, I knew what he was trying to do. I put a hand over my mouth, blocking his lips from mine.

That was it. That was the confession I was looking for. And, it made perfect sense. He was scoping out the scene. Looking for people that didn't get around too much, and bringing them down here. He said they didn't die. Only drained. Perhaps the missing people were still alive then? I heard a jingle of chains in the distance.

"Huh?" Mr. Fang went, pulling away. He hadn't expected me to be bold enough to resist. Or, maybe he thought I was still under his spell of dapper appeal. Well, I had only one thing to say to that.

"I'm straight."