chosehumanity | Streets Outside Hospital, Late Late Monday Night/Early Tuesday Morning

And in the end, it was all almost disappointingly easy.

They left Carl upstairs in his house, in Dan's bed, surrounded with skulls and other spooky artifacts. Left a syringe almost empty of drugs at his side, and pierced his skin twice with the tip so it looked like he'd injected himself with something.

Mitchell called it in.

The ambulance came 'round.

The police took their statements.

It had become, in just a few hours' time, a simple murder-suicide involving two gothic freaks, and no one really wanted to dig into it any further. Maybe there'd be some scandal in the papers, Mitchell didn't know.

In the hospital, Nina covered the paperwork. She made sure she was in the morgue with Carl's body at the right time. George used his own access to the hospital to get near to a fire alarm, and rammed into it with his elbow.

Everyone evacuated the area, though not in much of a hurry - maybe they were used to it, Mitchell didn't care - and when the place was empty, Mitchell slipped out of the shadows. He took a few corridors and found himself inside the morgue.

Carl was naked. Weeping over Dan's body. Mitchell gave him a minute, maybe two. There would be plenty more time for him to grieve later on, but he didn't want to rush this, either. So he waited. Watched.

Then passed Carl a spare set of clothes when he was done.

They snuck out through one of the back doors of the hospital - Mitchell had worked there long enough to know where everything was. George met them there, looking a little put-off but defiant.

Mitchell gave him a nod, and then slipped onto the street to wait for their welcoming committee.

George & Carl	George stood by the back exit of the hospital, tense as anything. He had his hands stuffed in his trousers, and he was looking for two familiar faces while he tried his utmost best to ignore Carl. "So... what happens now?" Unfortunately, Carl hadn't gotten the memo. George sighed. "Well, it's no longer a murder investigation due to your suicide," he pointed out. "It's now just a misplaced body. It's weird, and it's embarrassing, but no one's going to be making much of a fuss about it."
Jack	Walking up to the pair, Jack bit back a grin as he heard George's attempts at reassurance. "We're fine," he said, and if he was still annoyed by the whole escapade, it showed less now that he'd had some time to calm down. "Portalocity was willing to do a special deal. It should be here in five minutes."
George	"Well, there's a relief," George muttered, fiddling with the insides of his pockets. "The sooner this is over with, the better, if you ask me." If he tilted his head and squinted, he could sort of make out Mitchell wandering back out onto the street. Marvelous.
Jack	Neither Jack nor Sebastien had any argument to make on that point, though Jack's nod was a bit more enthusiastic. "Did everything go all right on your end?" Jack asked, squinting toward Mitchell's fuzzy form. "No chance you tripped an alarm or whatever, is there?"
George	"No, everything's... fine, actually." George didn't really know what to think of it, to be utterly honest. "So... this is the last stop, then."
Carl	Carl nodded once. He seemed fidgety. "Thank you," he said, after a moment. "For everything."
George	George snorted softly. "Truthfully," he said, "I only helped because Mitchell asked me to." Sorry, Carl.
Jack	"And Sebastien's the one you want to thank on this end," Jack added, managing at least not to snort. "But it's not a bad plan at all."
Ivan	"And what have we got here, then?" Any further socialising would have to be put on hold. Whoever the new visitor was, he'd made Mitchell start like a terrified deer, or at least someone who'd just spotted a bigger predator.
Sebastien	"Sebastien de Ulloa," Sebastien said. He'd seen Mitchell jump, and had stiffened in turn. His voice was ice. "My associate Mr. Priest and I are here to escort Carl. And you would be...?"
Ivan	"I'm Ivan. Nice to meet you; it's been a long time since I saw any one of us with such manners." The vampire flashed Sebastien a not entirely friendly smile. The hostility didn't even seem to phase him.
Mitchell	"Look, Ivan," Mitchell said, relaxing a fraction as he shook his head. "We're just trying to get Carl out of here. Get this whole thing over with. It's none of your business."
Sebastien	Something about the legendary Ivan made Jack uneasy in a way he attributed to a mix of bad memories and being attuned to the vampires. He stepped back a bit, with a sidelong glance to George to see if he was having the same sort of reaction. "A pleasure, Ivan," Sebastien supplied. His easier tone masked wariness; he didn't think Mitchell spooked easily. Not that Ivan looked like much, but that meant nothing. "Good manners make everything easier, don't they?" And by 'everything,' he meant 'getting Carl out of here without any disasters, small or large.'
Ivan	"Some things, I'm sure," Ivan said, pacing calmly towards them, like he was a predator, but he had judged them unfit to eat. For the moment. "But I don't think this is something that can be handled with manners." He stopped walking when he'd reached Mitchell, smiling. It looked pleasant enough, but Ivan's eyes were cold. "This is not going to be 'over with' after tonight," he said, "Civilised as you might think this solution is."
Jack	"Do you always sound as if you should be twirling a mustache as you speak?" Jack interjected, in part because stupid bravado was easier for him than staying tense and afraid. "And what was your solution?" Sebastien glanced toward him, wondering at his sense of timing, but said nothing. This wasn't his fight.
Ivan	"I'm not interested in solutions. I'm just here as a tourist," Ivan said. "Though speaking of manners, is that how you speak to your elders?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Today it's Carl," he said, as his eyes slid from the teenage boy back to the people who mattered. To a degree, at least. "Tomorrow, it's someone else. It's like I said, Mitchell. You're sliding into chaos here, and there's no safety net. They've been in hiding since Herrick died, but they're going to get hungry soon, and you're going to be waking up to headlines about vampires."
Sebastien	"And then purges after the headlines," Sebastien interjected, putting a hand on Jack's arm before he chipped in his two cents again. "And then, if human laws are followed, something like tolerance from the tolerant in the next generations. We've been through that at home." It wasn't easy. It was better than hiding like a rat. "It's hard, but the chaos -- that's not forever."
Mitchell	That brought a hint of a smile to Mitchell's face. Hope, maybe. (A case of it where he wouldn't have to do anything, where he wouldn't have to get involved that much...) "Maybe we should declare ourselves," he said, glancing at Sebastien. "Not the way Herrick wanted. Just for us to stop hiding. Get back to humanity. We murdered our way out, maybe we can-- work our way back in."
Ivan	"What, are you two imagining some kind of peaceful co-existence? In this place?" He glanced back at the door, at where Carl and George were standing. Watched the latter fidget. "That's the optimistic view; the thing about chaos is that it never resolves itself orderly, it never works its way out along the same path. There could be worldwide panic. Good news for religion, mind, especially Christianity," he added. Paced away from them, for just a few steps. "There'd be standing room only in the churches all of a sudden. As soon as they knew about vampires, they’d know about werewolves, they’d know about ghosts." He beamed at George, showing a glint of teeth. "They'd be next. And when humanity had finally finished with us, it would turn on itself. First the other religions, massively in the minority now, then the homosexuals, the disabled..." He turned back around, and looked at Sebastien. "Maybe in your mental universe it sorts itself out. But do you want to know what I think the future looks like? Enforced worship in churches a mile high and every country surrounded by a coral reef of bones." Suddenly, the severity of his expression shifted into something far more casual. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "But fuck it. Maybe you're right. Maybe it should happen. There's nothing on TV at the moment."
Sebastien	"I call my mental universe the only history I know," Sebastien pointed out, a bit sharply. "This world is not the only place with wampyr. At home we're acknowledged, and accepted if not beloved by the civilized. Much like homosexuals or Jews or any other sometimes useful minority." Not the most comforting comparison, but it was one Ivan had brought up. "What I wonder," he added idly, "is what you gain from stories about fortresses made of corpses."
Ivan	"Some entertainment in the looks on your faces," Ivan drawled, not about to be drawn into a battle of some kind. He was already strolling away from them. "What Mitchell does isn't really my problem, but at least his optimism is good for a laugh." He glanced back and off to the entrance. "Carl!" he called. "How are you, killer?"
Jack	Jack shook his head as he stepped away, checking his watch. He wouldn't give Ivan the satisfaction of further reaction. "The portal's taking its time," he observed, to no one in particular
Mitchell	"Yeah, it's usually brilliant right when you need it," said Mitchell. He sounded deceptively idle, but he was staring after Ivan's retreating back. He was exhibiting all the signals of a vampire waiting for the right moment to start brooding again.
Carl	Carl took that as his own signal to walk up from the hospital exit, though. Wordlessly, he dragged Mitchell into a hug, pulling him close for a few long moments. They had been friends for a very long time, after all. "Thank you," he said, as he pulled away. Brood on that, Mitchell. A few meters down the road, a portal sprung to life.