"I am inclined to agree. I felt the same when people would give sympathies for my sickness. It rang hollow, as you say, despite knowing it was not. I confess I found myself more irritated by it in younger years than not." Michael's isolated childhood was a major factor behind a lot of his oddities, but he tried so hard to keep some part of the man he was alive. Even when the pseudo-vampire within made it hard.
An amused sound followed as he watched Matt, listening. "So much like your hearing, you can filter with taste as well? Fascinating. I believe that is an excellent way to look at it from what you have described." Matt being more connected just made sense, more so with him staying in Hell's Kitchen—at least it did to the scientist. The question made Michael freeze up for a second, stippling his claw-like nails against one of his biceps, where his arms were still crossed. "Yes and no, I am very aware that it still tastes like copper, but as soon as I smell it or have not imbibed in a day or more, it is all I can think about. The taste is richer, better than anything I've ever tasted when the hunger is upon me." Silently reminding himself he has already fed tonight, don't think about the blood.
"I did too. People telling me they were sorry I lost my dad or sorry about the accident. I always wanted to ask them what they were sorry about--they didn't kill him or splash chemicals in my eyes, so what did they have to apologize for? I know that's just petulant though," he shrugs. It doesn't mean that he doesn't still sometimes feel it when sympathies are lobbed his way, particularly in the wake of so many losses in his life. It becomes a long-exhausted refrain in his head.
He nods in the question about his senses and the way that he takes in taste. He's aware of everything on his tongue but some things become more overpowering than others. "I've gotten accustomed to the taste of my own blood but I can't say that there's anything appealing about seeking it out." It sounds like a miserable part of Michael's experience, and to have such a drive for something like that is something Matt can't necessarily understand. He has whims and desires but never so strong that it overcomes everything. "What happens when that hunger strikes you?"
"Yes, exactly that. No one ever seems to get that. It is not an insult to them; merely there is nothing for them to apologize for. They did not do these things to us." Making a silent promise to himself that despite how much he tried to be polite, he would not do the same again. At least not to one who understood the frustrations.
"Given how some other scientists we both likely know are, I promise I am not asking these things in some cloak-and-dagger way of planning any experimentation or kidnapping on you. I am merely curious." Michael has been kidnapped enough to find it distasteful, more so when someone welcomed him into their home. He knows he has a bad reputation due to the blood on his hands. "Do you get hit hard enough to bleed often?" He asked, still curious. "I can say before the accident, I hated the taste of blood. Now? When the hunger strikes, as you say. I lose all sense of myself; it is like seeing my body move without me. Nothing else matters in those moments but quenching that thirst. The longer I go between feedings, the more likely I am to kill again. I would rather not do that, if I can help it."
"My priest told me that it's customary and that I should have grace when people offer it. The fact that I can't do a good job of it is probably indication enough of why I needed a priest to tell me in the first place." There is nothing to be gained from their sympathies or apologies and it used to gnaw at Matt every time he got one. There is no undoing what is done so he just wishes that no one would draw attention to it. He always preferred people like Foggy or Elektra who didn't treat him with kid gloves.
"If you were to try, I wouldn't make it easy on you so I would advise against it anyway," Matt replies. He doesn't know if he could win in a fight, but he's not a slouch in that department. "I'm awash in scars under this very nice t-shirt from my law school and I do get hit a lot. It's just part of the gig. Fighting hand to hand means that you put yourself in range of fists and hands." He's not complaining. It's just part of what happens over the course of any night spent out on the streets. "What happens if you don't drink blood? Other than the desire for it being a lot? Physically, I mean."
"Mine said much the same, though I confess it was my mother telling me if I had nothing nice to say to say nothing at all that cemented more." Though he had almost gone to the clergy it was his mother's rules that had shaped his early years. "I would think it is more those who extend such platitudes do not think of how often people like us have to hear the same thing. Like a band being asked to play their best single every night, it just gets old, but none are at fault."
That at least got a chuckle out of him. "Well, good thing I have no intention of doing so. I have heard enough tales of what you are capable of, my friend." Who knew who would win, either way he did not want to find out, not when he was enjoying the others company. "Yes I suppose it would put you in very close quarters, so no advanced healing with your gift?" He prompted, before taking a second to try to figure out how to explain.
"My body rarely lets me go more than two days before I start to feel my control slip, but I can feel the pain I used to live with returning, but magnified. Plus I feel like I am starving, not just for blood but as if I had not eaten anything in days. I have also been told I appear much more ghastly than normal as well. It is not very pleasant."
"I would expect that you're right. No one who says those things probably thinks about how many times we've heard it. Hundreds. Maybe more at this point for me. I don't know. I don't keep track. I'd probably drive myself crazy if I did." People mean well. Matt has always believed that and his annoyance doesn't change that truth. He knows that they don't mean harm so it's probably the only thing that stills what can be a rude tongue sometimes.
Matt merely shrugs at the mention of stories of his exploits. Whatever they are, he knows that they tell about a skilled fighter who has won fights he should have lost. He doesn't know how it would come down if it came between the two of them but he's often underestimated by people stronger than him. "No. No advanced healing. I have to explain a lot of scars to the people I bring home," he says, flashing a quick smile.
Matt absorbs that and nods. "What do you actually look like then? You mentioned red eyes. I am aware of the structure of bone but what else is going on that you're referring to?" he asks.
Weighing his thoughts, Michael lets it pass, knowing he would walk them back in a circle if he spoke more on it. Having finally met someone who agreed and understood was enough to stop himself from overthinking everything.
"How unfortunate." The living vampire spoke. Red eyes on Matt again as he uncrossed his arms and lifted the bottle once more, sitting forward. "Yes, I suppose you would. I take it it causes many questions?" An amused sound passed his lips then. "Do you think James Bond ever got asked about his scars?" He had never read the books, despite growing up in a bookstore, but he did love the movies.
"Me?" He asked, a touch uncertain, part of him considering describing how he used to see himself, but no. "Well, I am probably the worst person to ask; I have never been much to look at, if I am honest. The change flattened my nose in a rather odd way, much like a bat's. My skin is as white as a sheet of paper, and the eyes? They both widened and glow now, aside from the color. While my face sunk in some, I gained quite a lot of muscle mass I did not have before. I would say all that didn't change is my hair. Still black, I keep it to my shoulders, and it unfortunately gets wavy when wet." The scientist in him caused him to ramble out the facts rather than try to describe them better. "My fangs never retract, which has caused a slight lisp, I confess. Lastly," Michael stippled his claws on the bottle again. "My nails are about two inches now, pointed and razor sharp. I cannot cut them; I have tried. When I am starved, my face becomes rather corpse-like. Is this more what you were asking?"
"I like to think that the people I bring back to bed are having a good enough time not to notice, and I leave the lights off, but yeah," he says with a shrug. He still gets questions that are easier to deflect than to answer. "I got into it with a ninja with the Hand before I had a good suit. Tore me up pretty bad. Those alone would be bad but add in a decade of injuries here and there that manage to get through the armor and it's not great. Some fade, I guess, but some don't." He can feel them but he can't really know what they look like.
He takes in the description and faintly nods when some portions that he picked up on as a difference are noted. It makes sense of the things he could tell, like the flattening of the nose, but the other parts are obviously more stark. "So how do you move around in the world with that?" he asks. Maybe Michael doesn't, or keeps to shadows, but with a description like that, it seems like he would stand out. "It's what I was asking. I don't really know what a vampire looks like and I've just got what sound bounces off of to calculate it. I could tell about the nails though. They click on the bottle."
"I would hope not; it seems rather rude to bring it up if they are having a good time." He replied with ease. He couldn't imagine leaving the lights on the rare times he's taken someone to bed since his accident. "Ahh, yes, those fights in our early days before we all learned to wear better costumes." He mused. While his costume still kind of looks the same, the materials have changed over the years. "I take it the new armor helps a lot more? Furthermore, if you don't find it odd in my saying so, I can't imagine anyone thinking you would not have a great look, scars or no."
"I rarely move about in the day, despite often being up. If I must, I have taken to wearing a hooded jacket and sunglasses. It helps somewhat. Flight also helps keep me out of sight of most. Though, that has its drawbacks as well. Spider-Man and I have never been on the best of terms." Taking a drink before nodding again. "I am not sure how much the sounds would help; I can say that real vampires are beautiful, my friend. Their beauty makes their hunting easier, as people do not run from them. Sorry about the nails; it is a nervous habit I have never shaken."
"The material deflects a lot of things. It won't stop a bullet or a stabbing motion, but it's good for deflecting blades. Which I very much could have used that first time around when I was just wearing fatigues, boots, a long sleeve shirt and a ski mask." Lessons were obviously learned and upgrades were made along the way. "It's more that they're sort of difficult to explain," he elaborates and to punctuate the point, he lifts the hem of his shirt up to above his collar bones so Michael can see the cascade of scars crisscrossed over his abdomen. "They could be surgical scars, but there's no surgery there. So it's hard to see them as anything but blades." Once he's finished, he lowers the t-shirt again.
"Any reason why you've made an enemy out of him?" he asks about Peter. "Surface level beauty tends to be lost on me in a way. I have bone structure to work off of but usually the things people find alluring like eyes or the like are somewhat lost on me by comparison. So how would I be able to tell someone's a vampire if I were to come across one?"
"Mmm, I do wonder if there isn't something to reinforce it. Perhaps some kind of magical lining. I preface that thought with, Yes, I am a scientist, but I am also a member of the Legion of Monsters. I have seen things that make me more open-minded these days." Technically he's the leader of the Monstermetropolis half the time too, but he keeps leaving the underground city to try to live a somewhat normal life. "So I see; granted, I do not think they look that bad. For all anyone knows, you could have had many accidents over the years."
"Well…" That tone sounds a bit guilty. "I have tried to eat him a few times. In my defense." Oh, look, there is a touch of fire when he said it. "His blood did cure me once, for a few years. It was that or the lightning that struck us at the same time, but it worked. Otherwise, we are like oil and water; we are just destined to never mix." A lot of bad blood there, despite all they had in common. "Yes, I can see how that would make sense with the bone structure. Now, with vampires, I can help with that. You can hear my heart, I am assuming, and that I breathe? They do not. True vampires also tend to have a slight scent of decay to them from where they died."
"I have no use or interest in magic. Whatever of it that I've encountered has been overwhelmingly negative and I like to keep my problems a little more focused. Introducing any of that tends to lead to bigger problems than I know how to handle on my own." It always feels like an invitation to cross some kind of line and Matt is far from eager to do that. The supernatural as a whole is something that unsettles him, whether it's because of his faith or just the way it never seems to herald anything positive. "It's a lot of accidents to write off. More than the normal person has."
Matt arches his brow at that. "Yeah, I can see why he might not be your biggest fan if that's the case." Matt himself certainly wouldn't be forgiving if he was in Parker's position. "Yes, I can hear your heartbeat and your breathing. I've had experience with fighters who had no breath and no pulse. They weren't vampires. But the smell is new. So that will be helpful, should I ever encounter one, I guess. I'm not looking to. I'm guessing that they're stronger than I am."
Another nod was given as he listened to the very sound reason. The empty bottle was placed back down as he folded his hands together, sitting back again. "No, that is very logical. The deeper I fall into it, the more complicated situations get. Either way, I do hope you do not get grievously injured in the future. That offer from earlier stands, as I mentioned." If Matt needed a doctor, he would come. It helped that most of the Monstermetropolis connected through the old tunnels under the city; he could get anywhere quickly if the skies were not an option. Friends were rare, and he would do a lot for someone who was kind to him. "I would assume so, yes. But in the end, is it truly any of their right to ask to know where the marks came from?"
When it came to Spider-Man, it was not so much guilt; they had bad blood. Still, Michael knew he was mostly to blame for that. "Might I add that I have tried to apologize more than once?" Michael didn't expect forgiveness; he just accepted that in order to make up for that, he needs to keep showing up the few times Parker has asked for his help. "Curious, were they undead of some kind?" That was not expected. "I would also advise, should you come up against vampires, to keep holy water on you. It works on true undead. Most are enthralled to their masters, so even if you take them down, there are likely more around."
The sound of the empty bottle on the table prompts Matt to get up from the sofa and return to the refrigerator to get one for himself and another for his guest. "It seems like magic is a complication in general and one I'd prefer to avoid if I can." Maybe that's just because of his previous run-ins and the fact that there are people who are meant to handle that sort of thing and it's not him. He's not an Avenger, he's not a sorcerer supreme or anything like that. He's just a guy who tries to protect his part of the city. "I do appreciate the offer. I hope I don't have to take you up on it but injuries are kind of part of the job." To say the least. "People think they're owed some truth of your life, especially if you invite them into bed." That seems to be his experience anyway.
"I've had plenty of people try to kill me and if they apologized to me? I'd still tell them to fuck off so I kinda gotta side with him on that one." That's not exactly something that's easily forgiven. "I don't know what you'd describe it as. I just know that my girlfriend was dead and they brought her back to life and they didn't have heartbeats." Some of his distaste for magic is probably made a little more obvious with the explanation. "Does that kill a vampire? Or just hurt?" Because now he has to deal with the moral qualms of killing when it relates to the undead. That doesn't seem like as easy a question to answer for him as it usually is.
Tracking Matt as he walked, before being distracted by his phone buzzing from the small pocket built into the wing-like fabric that connected his arms and ribs. Taking it out before firing a brief message back and placing it down and aside. "I do not blame you there. If I had a choice, I would not be near it myself. It seems rather an oxymoron, a doctor who knows magic to be real, besides, obviously, Doctor Strange, of course." A small amused noise escaped him at that. "Here is hoping, but I do not mind all the same. I know how often heroes get hurt." Michael nodded again, those eyes back to the vigilante. "I suppose that would be true for most." Martine had known him before everything. Marie and Susanna had both tricked and used him for nefarious ends, so he didn't really have that problem. Though, they were why he tended not to bother with romance anymore.
"I am not saying he should forgive me; I did attack him. More than once. I doubt that bad blood will ever be cleared up. It is what it is, as they say. I just try to do better these days." Well, that chased his thoughts from Spider-Man. "Well, now that is certainly curious." That certainly wouldn't help the magic. "And aside from being returned but with no heartbeat or breath, does she seem fine?" That tone? He's got the scientist interested now. "Oh no, it will just hurt them unless they ingest it, much like garlic. Sunlight, stakes, and beheading will kill a proper vampire."
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," he quoted with a shrug before returning back to the couch with the extra bottle and handing it over to Michael. "I just have no need or want for it." It was a fairly closed subject for Matt Murdock when it came to the supernatural because his experiences hadn't exactly been favorable, to say the very least. "I've never been altogether comfortable with that terminology," he mentions, "I'm just someone who can do something for my neighborhood and my city that other people can't." He has never appreciated the term vigilante either, because it seems to harken back more to men like Frank Castle but it still feels somehow more appropriate than hero.
He does regret bringing up Elektra. These are questions that either he doesn't have the answer to or he doesn't particularly want to think about. "She lost her memory. Had no recollection of who I was. She got some of it back but she wasn't the same. She's dead so I don't know if it would have gotten better over time. She was different." There's still pain in those memories and he'd much rather just discuss what he should do if he happens upon a vampire. "Am I supposed to kill a vampire? In theory, I mean. Are they people, in the way that I would recognize?"
"Hamlet?" He asked, just a touch amused, but it did seem the perfect way to get him to let the topic be. Taking the offered bottle. "Thank you." Spoken once he had taken it. "Perhaps that is why I find speaking to you easier than others. Many are so quick to call themselves one or the other." As it was, he was one who agreed with what Frank does, but his associations with Frank Castle are limited by design, even if he did think the man could be the hero the Monster Metropolis needed.
"I see." He replied to the response. "I am sorry, my friend. I am not sure what would cause that. I could consult the books, but it does sound like it was in the past." That and getting his hands on those books was never an easy task for one who floated between the natural and supernatural worlds. "Not always. It is complicated; younger vampires often lack the willpower to not kill everyone they feed on. Some older vampires just enjoy inflicting pain. There are others who have broken free of the control of their makers and try to live peacefully. It is typically a case-by-case basis. So, yes, they are people, but it is complicated. There are many vampire hunters and groups who handle those kinds of threats , though; you should not have to worry much about that here."
"Calling myself a hero feels like putting on an ill-fitting suit. I help people the best I can, and I don't always to it right or do right by everyone. It feels like if I was a hero, I'd do better than I am," he replies before taking a sip of his beer. He's harder on himself than anyone else would be, of course. That could be easily attributed to Catholic guilt or all of the mistakes that he has made along the way. Those decisions had consequences, some deadly, and he doesn't ignore those failings because it's convenient.
"It was all a long time ago," he replies. Better to leave it all in the past where all of that pain and loss belongs and so it can't haunt him further by digging up the corpses of old memories. He'd rather concentrate on the present, and just what the hell he's supposed to do if he encounters a vampire. It was not a problem he expected to potentially have but this conversation has changed that focus. "Yeah, see the problem is, people tell me that I shouldn't have to deal with things and then it comes up anyway. Just my bad luck, maybe. I don't kill, so if these are still people in some kind of way, I guess it's off the table for me anyway. Complications pretty much remove that option from the equation for me and that pesky sense of morality that I have."
"At the end of the day, no one could ask more or less of you. Just from what you have told me tonight." In all honesty, he felt someone who protected others and didn't see themselves as a hero to be more deserving of the title. Not himself, of course, but anyone else who did so.
Another acknowledging noise was made; he wouldn't want to talk about it if someone was asking about Martine. As it was, he remembered he was supposed to share what happened to Emil, but it had slipped his mind for a while, and he was fine to leave it be. That was his great sin after all.
"Bad luck follows you as well?" He asked, knowing very well how that felt. "You need not deal with it; that is what the Midnight Sons and the Legion of Monsters are for. We monsters handle our own. I do not like to kill; I suffer for every life I have taken, but it is my job now to make sure creatures like me do not hurt the innocent. It may never tip the scales in my favor, but it does help."
"I ask more of myself," he replies but doesn't elaborate. He's sure he doesn't need to. The pressure put on himself is infinitely more than anything that anyone else does and the blame is even greater. There's never really going to be a time when that stops. Even tonight, he feels some measure of guilt for the fact that he's in his apartment instead of on the rooftops.
"What's that saying? If I didn't have bad luck I'd have no luck at all? That's me. It doesn't help that every fucked up thing happens in New York. Plus, vigilantes are in short supply--at least who know what they're doing--so I get pulled into things." So that was why he wasn't going to completely discount the idea of having to fight a vampire someday. It's not a fight he's looking for but he has to think that with all the strange things that crop up in the Kitchen, it's good to be prepared."Everyone says that. Someone else will be there to deal with a problem. In my experience? Things happen fast and people can't be everywhere at once. So it's better to know what to do in case of a problem."
"This I understand." Michael was much the same way; the bloodlust really didn't help, but he does the best he can with what he can. At least Matt was not on those rooftops with his foot in the shape it was in.
He couldn't help another quiet laugh at that, taking a drink then. "It seems our luck may be on par, my friend. Though I must agree, I had not anything like this until I washed up on the shore here. We do seem to have a lot of younger want-to-be vigilantes; I worry for them. So I see..."
"You have a fine point; as much as I want to argue, I know it to be true." Taking a breath, the nails are stippling on the bottle again. Clearly thinking, quiet after Matt finished for a few moments. "Could you be able to carry a torch on you while in costume? I may know a way for you to handle vampires without having to kill. It would hurt them, but not kill."
The injuries don't stop the guilt when it comes to how he feels about the tasks that he has taken on for himself. He fights hurt too often, and he knows it's going to bite him in the ass someday. At least this time he has company to act as a good distraction from the sounds of the city outside of his windows. He's not listening for the calls for help that he won't be able to answer in his current state.
The younger vigilantes are a sore spot. "I feel like patient zero," he admits, "I've been doing this a long time and more and more people are putting on masks and disguises. I don't know whether they have codes. Even if I hate it, at least I know Castle has one. All these strangers? I don't know if they intend to help or just want the clicks on youtube." It's a problem. It's also one he doesn't know how to address. He was like them once too so does he really have a leg to stand on?
The question confuses him for a moment. "A torch-torch, or a flashlight?" he asks. He is familiar with the slang but considering they're talking about vampires, it seems feasible to question. "I mean, I can carry a few things, depending on where I can strap it to a belt or to my thigh. It just depends on size and limitations."
At least if it did bite him in the ass, and Michael wasn't in prison or pulled away on some crazy job, he would show up to help if called upon. He would be pleased to know he was any help whatsoever in distracting the other from his calling while he healed.
"Who was first between you and the Spider?" He knows Peter's name, and as much as they bicker and fight, he would never admit it. Too many blood samples and time working with Curt Conners had passed for him not to see it in the blood alone. Not to mention being a vampire who has drunk his blood? He would know that scent anywhere. "I have thought for some time there should be someone the heroes have to answer to. Though, that would not work. As you say, Castle has a code; his is very different from, say, Blade's or Ghost Rider's. They cannot be measured the same as you or the Fantastic Four." He could go on a tangent here. "I saw someone dressed as a frog earlier this week." The ridiculousness of what he saw was showing in his tone. "The internet certainly has worsened it, I agree."
"Flashlight, sorry." He replied with ease; it made sense given vampires. "If you can get a strong UV flashlight, it will burn them but not kill them. I've had one used on me, and even not being a real vampire, it hurt my eyes for hours afterward. Most can't handle the burning, so they will run."
"I'm not the same sort as him. He has powers. I don't. I have abilities but I'm not impervious to injury, no healing factor, I can't jump high or make web--none of the things that make him what he is. What I'm talking about are the vigilantes who are just regular people, who seem to think that I make it seem like doing this is a possibility." Those are very different things. Regular people can't imagine themselves putting on a mask with super powers at their disposal but for some reason, some think that they can take some karate lessons and have what it takes to get into the proverbial arena. "Oversight only works if someone is going to disclose their identity or their intentions," he points out. There's usually a combination of hesitance to one or both of those things. "Yeah, I know the frog guy. Real idiot," he faintly smiles, "I really do blame the internet."
A flashlight seems like an easy fix. Or at least an easy accessory to carry should the need arise. "That makes sense. I could go with something like that. Better to be prepared. The billy clubs probably aren't going to make much difference to one." A blunt weapon is intended to end a fight with maximum efficiency and survival. That doesn't seem like it would matter much if he tangled with a vampire.
"Oh, I did not mean power-wise. Just time. I am curious who put on a suit first. Or if someone else was already doing so." He explained, another wave of his hand as he often spoke with his hands. "His powers do put him in a different caliber, yes. Though you have a fine point, without the push to do so, most with power likely wouldn't step out on the streets. I do wonder how many of these people have gotten hurt or worse." Taking a drink, weighing the thought. "No one needs that; if I had the choice, I would not have my name tied to this life. Alas, a vampire with a last name like mine? I never stood a chance." Or the dramatics of speaking in the third person using his last name those first few years. That's probably what did it. "Ahh, so he looks dumb and is an idiot. Lovely combination."
It was remarkable the things that could be stored in those costumes without changing the look too much. "It was that or a spray bottle of holy water, and I doubt that one is so easily done. Sadly no, my friend, blunt force trauma rarely works on real vampires." A touch of emphasis on that, after all, he's taken plenty of hits and stayed down for a while, where real vamps would keep getting up. "Though, if you get the right one, you could double it as another weapon; at least then it makes further use of space lost for a possibility."
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An amused sound followed as he watched Matt, listening. "So much like your hearing, you can filter with taste as well? Fascinating. I believe that is an excellent way to look at it from what you have described." Matt being more connected just made sense, more so with him staying in Hell's Kitchen—at least it did to the scientist. The question made Michael freeze up for a second, stippling his claw-like nails against one of his biceps, where his arms were still crossed. "Yes and no, I am very aware that it still tastes like copper, but as soon as I smell it or have not imbibed in a day or more, it is all I can think about. The taste is richer, better than anything I've ever tasted when the hunger is upon me." Silently reminding himself he has already fed tonight, don't think about the blood.
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He nods in the question about his senses and the way that he takes in taste. He's aware of everything on his tongue but some things become more overpowering than others. "I've gotten accustomed to the taste of my own blood but I can't say that there's anything appealing about seeking it out." It sounds like a miserable part of Michael's experience, and to have such a drive for something like that is something Matt can't necessarily understand. He has whims and desires but never so strong that it overcomes everything. "What happens when that hunger strikes you?"
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"Given how some other scientists we both likely know are, I promise I am not asking these things in some cloak-and-dagger way of planning any experimentation or kidnapping on you. I am merely curious." Michael has been kidnapped enough to find it distasteful, more so when someone welcomed him into their home. He knows he has a bad reputation due to the blood on his hands. "Do you get hit hard enough to bleed often?" He asked, still curious. "I can say before the accident, I hated the taste of blood. Now? When the hunger strikes, as you say. I lose all sense of myself; it is like seeing my body move without me. Nothing else matters in those moments but quenching that thirst. The longer I go between feedings, the more likely I am to kill again. I would rather not do that, if I can help it."
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"If you were to try, I wouldn't make it easy on you so I would advise against it anyway," Matt replies. He doesn't know if he could win in a fight, but he's not a slouch in that department. "I'm awash in scars under this very nice t-shirt from my law school and I do get hit a lot. It's just part of the gig. Fighting hand to hand means that you put yourself in range of fists and hands." He's not complaining. It's just part of what happens over the course of any night spent out on the streets. "What happens if you don't drink blood? Other than the desire for it being a lot? Physically, I mean."
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That at least got a chuckle out of him. "Well, good thing I have no intention of doing so. I have heard enough tales of what you are capable of, my friend." Who knew who would win, either way he did not want to find out, not when he was enjoying the others company. "Yes I suppose it would put you in very close quarters, so no advanced healing with your gift?" He prompted, before taking a second to try to figure out how to explain.
"My body rarely lets me go more than two days before I start to feel my control slip, but I can feel the pain I used to live with returning, but magnified. Plus I feel like I am starving, not just for blood but as if I had not eaten anything in days. I have also been told I appear much more ghastly than normal as well. It is not very pleasant."
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Matt merely shrugs at the mention of stories of his exploits. Whatever they are, he knows that they tell about a skilled fighter who has won fights he should have lost. He doesn't know how it would come down if it came between the two of them but he's often underestimated by people stronger than him. "No. No advanced healing. I have to explain a lot of scars to the people I bring home," he says, flashing a quick smile.
Matt absorbs that and nods. "What do you actually look like then? You mentioned red eyes. I am aware of the structure of bone but what else is going on that you're referring to?" he asks.
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"How unfortunate." The living vampire spoke. Red eyes on Matt again as he uncrossed his arms and lifted the bottle once more, sitting forward. "Yes, I suppose you would. I take it it causes many questions?" An amused sound passed his lips then. "Do you think James Bond ever got asked about his scars?" He had never read the books, despite growing up in a bookstore, but he did love the movies.
"Me?" He asked, a touch uncertain, part of him considering describing how he used to see himself, but no. "Well, I am probably the worst person to ask; I have never been much to look at, if I am honest. The change flattened my nose in a rather odd way, much like a bat's. My skin is as white as a sheet of paper, and the eyes? They both widened and glow now, aside from the color. While my face sunk in some, I gained quite a lot of muscle mass I did not have before. I would say all that didn't change is my hair. Still black, I keep it to my shoulders, and it unfortunately gets wavy when wet." The scientist in him caused him to ramble out the facts rather than try to describe them better. "My fangs never retract, which has caused a slight lisp, I confess. Lastly," Michael stippled his claws on the bottle again. "My nails are about two inches now, pointed and razor sharp. I cannot cut them; I have tried. When I am starved, my face becomes rather corpse-like. Is this more what you were asking?"
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He takes in the description and faintly nods when some portions that he picked up on as a difference are noted. It makes sense of the things he could tell, like the flattening of the nose, but the other parts are obviously more stark. "So how do you move around in the world with that?" he asks. Maybe Michael doesn't, or keeps to shadows, but with a description like that, it seems like he would stand out. "It's what I was asking. I don't really know what a vampire looks like and I've just got what sound bounces off of to calculate it. I could tell about the nails though. They click on the bottle."
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"I rarely move about in the day, despite often being up. If I must, I have taken to wearing a hooded jacket and sunglasses. It helps somewhat. Flight also helps keep me out of sight of most. Though, that has its drawbacks as well. Spider-Man and I have never been on the best of terms." Taking a drink before nodding again. "I am not sure how much the sounds would help; I can say that real vampires are beautiful, my friend. Their beauty makes their hunting easier, as people do not run from them. Sorry about the nails; it is a nervous habit I have never shaken."
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"Any reason why you've made an enemy out of him?" he asks about Peter. "Surface level beauty tends to be lost on me in a way. I have bone structure to work off of but usually the things people find alluring like eyes or the like are somewhat lost on me by comparison. So how would I be able to tell someone's a vampire if I were to come across one?"
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"Well…" That tone sounds a bit guilty. "I have tried to eat him a few times. In my defense." Oh, look, there is a touch of fire when he said it. "His blood did cure me once, for a few years. It was that or the lightning that struck us at the same time, but it worked. Otherwise, we are like oil and water; we are just destined to never mix." A lot of bad blood there, despite all they had in common. "Yes, I can see how that would make sense with the bone structure. Now, with vampires, I can help with that. You can hear my heart, I am assuming, and that I breathe? They do not. True vampires also tend to have a slight scent of decay to them from where they died."
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Matt arches his brow at that. "Yeah, I can see why he might not be your biggest fan if that's the case." Matt himself certainly wouldn't be forgiving if he was in Parker's position. "Yes, I can hear your heartbeat and your breathing. I've had experience with fighters who had no breath and no pulse. They weren't vampires. But the smell is new. So that will be helpful, should I ever encounter one, I guess. I'm not looking to. I'm guessing that they're stronger than I am."
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When it came to Spider-Man, it was not so much guilt; they had bad blood. Still, Michael knew he was mostly to blame for that. "Might I add that I have tried to apologize more than once?" Michael didn't expect forgiveness; he just accepted that in order to make up for that, he needs to keep showing up the few times Parker has asked for his help. "Curious, were they undead of some kind?" That was not expected. "I would also advise, should you come up against vampires, to keep holy water on you. It works on true undead. Most are enthralled to their masters, so even if you take them down, there are likely more around."
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"I've had plenty of people try to kill me and if they apologized to me? I'd still tell them to fuck off so I kinda gotta side with him on that one." That's not exactly something that's easily forgiven. "I don't know what you'd describe it as. I just know that my girlfriend was dead and they brought her back to life and they didn't have heartbeats." Some of his distaste for magic is probably made a little more obvious with the explanation. "Does that kill a vampire? Or just hurt?" Because now he has to deal with the moral qualms of killing when it relates to the undead. That doesn't seem like as easy a question to answer for him as it usually is.
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"I am not saying he should forgive me; I did attack him. More than once. I doubt that bad blood will ever be cleared up. It is what it is, as they say. I just try to do better these days." Well, that chased his thoughts from Spider-Man. "Well, now that is certainly curious." That certainly wouldn't help the magic. "And aside from being returned but with no heartbeat or breath, does she seem fine?" That tone? He's got the scientist interested now. "Oh no, it will just hurt them unless they ingest it, much like garlic. Sunlight, stakes, and beheading will kill a proper vampire."
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He does regret bringing up Elektra. These are questions that either he doesn't have the answer to or he doesn't particularly want to think about. "She lost her memory. Had no recollection of who I was. She got some of it back but she wasn't the same. She's dead so I don't know if it would have gotten better over time. She was different." There's still pain in those memories and he'd much rather just discuss what he should do if he happens upon a vampire. "Am I supposed to kill a vampire? In theory, I mean. Are they people, in the way that I would recognize?"
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"I see." He replied to the response. "I am sorry, my friend. I am not sure what would cause that. I could consult the books, but it does sound like it was in the past." That and getting his hands on those books was never an easy task for one who floated between the natural and supernatural worlds. "Not always. It is complicated; younger vampires often lack the willpower to not kill everyone they feed on. Some older vampires just enjoy inflicting pain. There are others who have broken free of the control of their makers and try to live peacefully. It is typically a case-by-case basis. So, yes, they are people, but it is complicated. There are many vampire hunters and groups who handle those kinds of threats , though; you should not have to worry much about that here."
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"It was all a long time ago," he replies. Better to leave it all in the past where all of that pain and loss belongs and so it can't haunt him further by digging up the corpses of old memories. He'd rather concentrate on the present, and just what the hell he's supposed to do if he encounters a vampire. It was not a problem he expected to potentially have but this conversation has changed that focus. "Yeah, see the problem is, people tell me that I shouldn't have to deal with things and then it comes up anyway. Just my bad luck, maybe. I don't kill, so if these are still people in some kind of way, I guess it's off the table for me anyway. Complications pretty much remove that option from the equation for me and that pesky sense of morality that I have."
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Another acknowledging noise was made; he wouldn't want to talk about it if someone was asking about Martine. As it was, he remembered he was supposed to share what happened to Emil, but it had slipped his mind for a while, and he was fine to leave it be. That was his great sin after all.
"Bad luck follows you as well?" He asked, knowing very well how that felt. "You need not deal with it; that is what the Midnight Sons and the Legion of Monsters are for. We monsters handle our own. I do not like to kill; I suffer for every life I have taken, but it is my job now to make sure creatures like me do not hurt the innocent. It may never tip the scales in my favor, but it does help."
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"What's that saying? If I didn't have bad luck I'd have no luck at all? That's me. It doesn't help that every fucked up thing happens in New York. Plus, vigilantes are in short supply--at least who know what they're doing--so I get pulled into things." So that was why he wasn't going to completely discount the idea of having to fight a vampire someday. It's not a fight he's looking for but he has to think that with all the strange things that crop up in the Kitchen, it's good to be prepared."Everyone says that. Someone else will be there to deal with a problem. In my experience? Things happen fast and people can't be everywhere at once. So it's better to know what to do in case of a problem."
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He couldn't help another quiet laugh at that, taking a drink then. "It seems our luck may be on par, my friend. Though I must agree, I had not anything like this until I washed up on the shore here. We do seem to have a lot of younger want-to-be vigilantes; I worry for them. So I see..."
"You have a fine point; as much as I want to argue, I know it to be true." Taking a breath, the nails are stippling on the bottle again. Clearly thinking, quiet after Matt finished for a few moments. "Could you be able to carry a torch on you while in costume? I may know a way for you to handle vampires without having to kill. It would hurt them, but not kill."
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The younger vigilantes are a sore spot. "I feel like patient zero," he admits, "I've been doing this a long time and more and more people are putting on masks and disguises. I don't know whether they have codes. Even if I hate it, at least I know Castle has one. All these strangers? I don't know if they intend to help or just want the clicks on youtube." It's a problem. It's also one he doesn't know how to address. He was like them once too so does he really have a leg to stand on?
The question confuses him for a moment. "A torch-torch, or a flashlight?" he asks. He is familiar with the slang but considering they're talking about vampires, it seems feasible to question. "I mean, I can carry a few things, depending on where I can strap it to a belt or to my thigh. It just depends on size and limitations."
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"Who was first between you and the Spider?" He knows Peter's name, and as much as they bicker and fight, he would never admit it. Too many blood samples and time working with Curt Conners had passed for him not to see it in the blood alone. Not to mention being a vampire who has drunk his blood? He would know that scent anywhere. "I have thought for some time there should be someone the heroes have to answer to. Though, that would not work. As you say, Castle has a code; his is very different from, say, Blade's or Ghost Rider's. They cannot be measured the same as you or the Fantastic Four." He could go on a tangent here. "I saw someone dressed as a frog earlier this week." The ridiculousness of what he saw was showing in his tone. "The internet certainly has worsened it, I agree."
"Flashlight, sorry." He replied with ease; it made sense given vampires. "If you can get a strong UV flashlight, it will burn them but not kill them. I've had one used on me, and even not being a real vampire, it hurt my eyes for hours afterward. Most can't handle the burning, so they will run."
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A flashlight seems like an easy fix. Or at least an easy accessory to carry should the need arise. "That makes sense. I could go with something like that. Better to be prepared. The billy clubs probably aren't going to make much difference to one." A blunt weapon is intended to end a fight with maximum efficiency and survival. That doesn't seem like it would matter much if he tangled with a vampire.
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It was remarkable the things that could be stored in those costumes without changing the look too much. "It was that or a spray bottle of holy water, and I doubt that one is so easily done. Sadly no, my friend, blunt force trauma rarely works on real vampires." A touch of emphasis on that, after all, he's taken plenty of hits and stayed down for a while, where real vamps would keep getting up. "Though, if you get the right one, you could double it as another weapon; at least then it makes further use of space lost for a possibility."
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