The thing about Rasheen Perpetua is this: as much as he finds it helpful when others give insight, he also likes thinking for himself.

-

One might have thought that after the events from some nights ago, in which his clan was threatened and they were forced to create two groups – one to stay behind and defend, the other to lead groups of people out of the town – to ensure the survival of most, the clan could have perhaps taken measures so the event wouldn't reoccur. Maybe they'd have been enforcing security in and around their own city, keeping tabs as to who is a vampire and who is actively feeding, and seeing if anyone in a nearby town or city has the same status as them. But no. The clan simply mourned the loss of Caroline, the few who passed away doing their duty to protect the Elders or those who chose to leave, and then moved on. Simple as that, it became a thing of the past to everyone.

...everyone except for Rasheen, of course.

As much as he thinks it's pretty gnarly for there to be more clans close by to his own, it still frightens him, to put it kindly, that there are others out there with more skill than him, more experience than him, more bloodlust than him, more of an ability to kill someone innocent without blinking an eye than him. It's curiously fascinating, this fact that there are people more inclined to their animalistic needs – sick and twisted and strangely human, despite being something other than mortals. Even with this, though, it's sad that they have to be segregated from one another for means of survival.

There are down sides to everything, he presumes, even in a world in which creatures of the night should be able to coexist together.

It's all of this that he thinks of as he walks around the premises of the clan's new headquarters, as the old one was desecrated by bloodshed, the hungry eyes of their newfound stalkers, and tainted memories which can only be relived privately.

This building is much more modern than the last one, too, and from a bird's eye point of view, it looks simply like a small version of a department store. He doesn't know how they managed to rent and move everything in the building, but as it's working so far he doesn't say much about it.

What if they somehow found us again, though?

This should be an ideal for them all, as well, not just him. It's not like they're making the best effort to conceal the building or anyone of the people going in or out. Most wear full-on black, others add a dash of crimson or midnight blue to lay off the inkiest color – it doesn't make much of a difference, but the effort is still there and that's what matters in the end.

If he were to be someone just walking around on the street, he would have found it odd that so many dark wearing, but pale-toned colored, people walked in and out of the estate; but, like most ordinary people, he would have gone on living because it's not his business, really.

But he's not some random citizen with good eyesight. He's a vampire, and his instincts let him catch things like that. And if he does it while completely relaxed, an enemy clan member will surely notice it if on guard.

What if they're following anyone of us right now?

Fear and panic in mind, he glances around the mostly empty city block. Despite the lack of people, the sun's harsh rays can't put an ominous tone to the surrounding. Sure, shadows are casted, but he really can't fear the shadows of a group of bicyclers, a couple walking three dogs, and friends enjoying meals outside. With all of this, this laughter and joy and togetherness, he ignores his faulty fears and instead acts like the lookout he's been unofficially been assigned to be.

(Oh, that's one thing that the clan has actually changed, or made an effort to fix: place the smallest amount of security! And by smallest amount, it's literally just one person. And by one person, it's literally just him.)

Instead of moving as much as he was told to do, as to not seem suspicious, he decides to go next door to a little deli. As it's mostly empty, he quickly buys a pre-made sub and some trail mix, and walks back outside, already munching on the almonds. He decides to have a seat in the deli's awning rather than lean his back against his building's door.

There isn't much he can do, really, but analyze each person that walks on the block and come up with hypothetical methods in which he can take every one of them out. The first to pass by is an older man, dressed in a suit and carrying a case, gut sticking out. With this one, he could knock the wind out of him easily. The next are two tall women, hands intertwined, and smiles equally as dazzling as their shining eyes. With these, he could trip any one of their long legs and probably drop-kick them onto their chests.

It continues to go on like this: more people walk past, and more thought up ways of kicking and punching and blinding are made. It's all useless though, unless one of them actually turns up to be an enemy clansman or woman – not that he wants them to be so, though.

He stops after the tenth person or so who walks past him, and instead decides to finish up his trail mix and maybe start on his sandwich, and think about anything with nothing in particular set in stone.

What about...memes? I haven't thought about those for a while. He's rather behind on his crippling depression masked as un-funnily funny humor, actually. He doesn't know which ones are relevant as he thinks of them, and he seriously hopes his favorite ones aren't outdated (for example, "You versus Me, an Intellectual.") I wonder if, in the enemy clans, there's another person obsessed with memes. That would be pretty gnarly.

Or maybe someone who really cares for the environment? He adores being an environmental scientist, he really does; it brings him joy like no other thing, except running – but that's in a category all in its own. And, while probably not the best idea, he wishes the clan has someone who is just as passionate for nature as he is, and that maybe they could discuss it while everyone else is busy killing each other off because of natural selection or whatever it is that motivates them to fight. (Don't get him wrong: he loves fighting just as much as the next person, but he'd rather verbally do it as it shows just how right he is and how much of an un-woke idiot the other person is.)

Perhaps, even, I could find a liberal to bond with or a conservatit to argue with? At this point, I'm definitely game. But, maybe just this one time, politics are a bit too delicate to discuss. It's not like his country just elected the first human cheetoh, or anything; it's not like his country just elected a racist, sexist, homophobic, islamophobia, pro-life, and pro-capitalist bob of corn, or anything. Nope, not here in the grand United States.

Actually, maybe politics aren't the most delicate thing in his life right now; he's ignited because, he thinks, America? More like Amerikkka, am I right?

He's right.

But he'd rather not mentally get to into it by himself when he's supposed to be focused on watching people and not self-induced fury and ire – he'll wait to talk to someone before he explodes in on himself, which is more than likely. Maybe he'll actually try to look for an enemy clan's member now...

Or maybe I can chill for a second and take a walk again?

He checks his watch, and notices that he has twelve minutes before the next person is to be out here to replace him. I'm a patient man, he tries to remind himself every minute. But nonexistent time seems to be rather cruel today, and he ends up taking deep breaths before he even hits the halfway point. And as there's nothing he can do but rile himself up with more thoughts, he decides to completely focus on eating his sandwich.

He, with thoughts which swirl in loop, didn't even notice the sandwich he picked up is most definitely not vegetarian. (Yes, even within the clan, people give him crap for being a vegetarian vampire. He had to drink human blood at one point, but he still refuses to eat meat at all costs. Besides, they can all live on human food too, so he decided to stick to his old diet.) The sticker on the side reads: "Meat Lovers: chicken, ham, turkey, bacon, and salami; lettuce and tomatoes; American cheese and mayonnaise." With a sigh, he takes the slices of meat out, and dully chews on his lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese.

However sad this meal may be, by the time he takes his second bite, his replacement has arrived. Out walks a girl with a killer braid and tense shoulders. She looks around before she catches Rasheen's awkward wave.

"Hey, you can go now," she greets, breath slightly smelling like day-old coffee.

"Do you know if I have to head back inside or if I can go chill out for a while back at my old place?" he doesn't know if he'll head back to the university's dorms, but it's a good a place as any. Especially to think, as it's serene when everyone is out and enjoying their weekend off-campus – everyone else who remains is probably studying, if not working.

She twists her braid. "Uh...I'm not sure. I mean, you'll be fine as long as you get back to HQ a bit before your next shift starts." She takes a piece of paper out and looks at the schedule. "You're not up until midnight, so get here around three quarters after eleven."

He nods. "Alright, thanks." And simply as that, he walks away and into whatever streets his feet carry him through.

He knows all of these blocks like the back of his hand and the way he knows chemistry. His breathing eases and his mind clears before a storm of thoughts attack him. Slowly, he takes tedious steps which turn into strides; those strides turn into a fast walk and he almost knocks people over. He doesn't know where he's going, but he's going now.

Soon, without noticing a significant change in pace or scenery alike, said mental storm drowses him in sweat like rain and pulsing veins like lightning and hitching coughs like thunder – all from running from point A to an unknown point B.

And this last point is someplace he knows he hasn't been in, but oddly feels at peace in. Even if he can hear leaves crunching behind him, a branch cracking in two, and the breaths of someone who isn't as an experienced long distance runner as he is.

Before he can turn around and blind the person or break them in two, said persons speaks. "There is only one of me, but we don't mean to hurt you." The voice is distinctly feminine, though he doesn't like giving genders to sound – it's a feminist thing. "I'm not here to bring harm to you in any shape or form, nor am I here to trick or beguile you."

He turns and looks at her. Had he not just been running for who knows how long, perhaps his breath might have been taken away from him. The girl standing in front of him is unconventionally gorgeous, but he knows looks can be more than just deceiving. Warm brown eyes can also reflect the coldness of a lie, and earthy skin can also hold the dampness of death. He sees both, because that's the way it should always be.

"What do you want, then? Who sent you?"

The second question is for naught, as he knows the answer. It's obvious the rival clan has been trailing him, and perhaps the others, waiting for the perfect moment of solitude before approaching. It's a simple strategy, but quite effective for cornering.

"We have something that might interest you, Rasheen Perpetua. The only way the deal can be completed is if, and only if, you walk away from your current clan and don't come back. You can stay in town, if you'd like, but you mustn't communicate with them even if you see them on the street and wish to say hello."

"Why though?" he asks with nonchalance. It's not like they really have something of his; he knows a bluff when he sees one.

She thinks before smiling with a Cheshire grin. "Reasons," she says. "None of which will concern you if you swear to walk away." Noticing the bland expression on his face – one of a raised eyebrow, unconceived eyes, and a smirk that reads really – she speaks again with incentive. "Fine, I'll tell you what we have of yours, though it was rather hard. You're a boy of many wants, surprisingly.

"First, you want you're hearing back, which is understandable" – false, I'm okay as I am – "then, it's for everyone to be as liberal as you are" – not completely false, I still want to argue with others – "and then you want the thing most of us despise. You want your human life back, don't you?

His eyes refocus and his lips almost twitch. She's got him there.

Perhaps it's been most present since the day the rival clan attacked, but it's been lingering in the back of his head. He's enjoyed not getting tired, never having to sleep, never having to eat really, and never having to fear death the ways others have. But he despises everything else. He hates that he constantly stays awake and scares his roommate whenever he randomly pops in on the night, is afraid he won't have control and attack someone from his family if they were to visit. The thing he hates in vile people of the world is the quality he sees in himself most: the desire for human contact – even if it's completely different from how others would view it. He's not a sexual predator, thanks.

"I...don't know," he replies. He's never been this unsure in his life; he needs an inquiry.

"But you have to know," she teases. "Choose your clan, and you'll stay a vampire forever. Choose to leave, and you will become human again, without the fear of a vampire reconversion. Choose."

Another gulp, a deep breath, and, "I choose my...life. I-I...I choose them."

-

The thing about Rasheen Perpetua is this: as much as he likes thinking for himself, he also finds it helpful when others give insight.