//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Itchy & Scratchy // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// As the morning sun began to creep past the curtains, Vinyl woke up and got out of bed as soon as possible.  She hadn’t slept in a bed quite as vintage as this one in...well, since it was that vintage.  Fancypants had really gone overboard in not changing this particular old house.  It was like he was trying to kill her comfortable sleep. She picked up her pink sunglasses from the bedside table and put them on.  She’d slept in her clothes. Downstairs, Fancypants sat with a cup of tea and the morning newspaper, immaculate suit in place.  His rifle was back in place over the mantle.  Vinyl stretched and sat down at the table.  “Do we have anything new on Carousel Brass and Mutton Chop?” “No.”  Fancypants folded the newspaper.  “I have a few sources to consult.  Perhaps there will be something soon.”  He glanced at the ceiling.  “Ms. Melody doesn’t usually sleep this late, does she?” “No, she’s pretty punctual in the mornings, even for a vampire.” A long second passed.  They looked at each other. “I’ll go check,” said Vinyl, getting up. She made her way back up the stairs to the bedroom Octavia had gone to the previous night.  Quietly opening the latch, she peered inside. The bed was made.  Octavia was nowhere to be seen.  Furthermore, her scent didn’t linger.  Either she was long gone, or had never even slept in the bed. Frowning, Vinyl closed the door.  That was the correct room, right?  Surely Octavia hadn’t switched.  Vinyl walked across the hallway and opened the next door. Fleur jerked upright in bed, hair a mess.  She blinked at Vinyl.  “What?” “Nothing.  I’m looking for Octavia.” “Well, she iz not here,” Fleur grumpily pointed out. “Yeah, I see that.  I wonder where she went.” Vinyl closed the door and went back downstairs.  “I can’t find her.” Fancypants tilted his head in thought.  “How interesting.” Vinyl pulled out her mobile and dialed Octavia.  The phone rang, but there was no answer. Fancypants pulled up a track for Octavia’s mobile.  She was in London. Fleur had come downstairs and joined them by this point, wearing a robe and fuzzy slippers.  Her hair and makeup were still not done, but she wanted breakfast first.  She sipped blood as she watched them work. “Octavia’s missing,” Vinyl said.  “We’re trying to figure out why she’s gone to London.” “London?” said Fleur absently.  She leaned over Fancypants’ shoulder to look at the tracking map on the screen of his mobile. “I’ll give Pip a ring and see if he can find her,” said Fancypants. Fleur straightened up.  “I will also make some calls.” “I’ll get going that way.”  Vinyl went out to her car. She drove quickly, but not recklessly.  Octavia must have gone to London on her own initiative, so at the moment there was no indication that she might be in danger.  It still made little sense that she would take off without telling anyone. Though, Octavia was a grown woman, she could do as she pleased.  Still, the strangeness of the situation was overwhelming.  Vinyl had gotten to know Octavia well over the nearly two years they had worked together.  This was completely out of character for her. Still,Vinyl wasn’t worried.  Yet. Vinyl tried calling Octavia again once she got inside the ring road, but this time the phone didn’t even buzz, just going straight to voicemail. She followed the location of Octavia’s mobile to an apartment building.  It looked like a nice place.  Vinyl found a spot to park and walked into the building. The GPS signal wasn’t perfectly accurate.  Where in the building could Octavia be?  Vinyl glanced at the tenant roster near the door and did a double take.  Fleur’s name was on the list. Vinyl jogged up the stairs, brain working.  Had Octavia come here to look at the knicknacks she had described the previous evening?  Why come alone? She reached the floor and oriented herself, heading towards Fleur’s flat.  Before she reached the door, she smelled blood. The door was unlocked.  Vinyl tensed as she opened it, not knowing what she would find. The place was wrecked.  Furniture was broken.  The knicknacks were scattered everywhere.  As Vinyl stepped into the room, she saw a body lying on the floor behind the couch.  It was a man, and there was a large puncture wound over his heart.  His blood was everywhere. “Fleur’s going to be pissed,” remarked Vinyl to no one in particular. She stopped by the body’s feet.  Who could this be?  Why was he here? Vinyl found Octavia’s phone, crushed and lost under the upturned couch.  She also found a Fabergé-type jeweled egg.  Vinyl picked it up.  There was an inscription on the bottom. Fleur dis Lee, l'amour de ma vie Created by master jeweler Carousel Brass Interesting, but nothing that she didn’t already know. She heard footsteps and Pip came in. “Fancy called me,” he explained.  “I hear Octavia’s gone missing.” Vinyl stepped back and gestured him forward.  “This is what we’ve got so far.” “I think I recognize this man.”  Pip tipped his head, putting his fingers to his chin.  “Let me see, Sauerkraut Hoagie, was it?  That’s right, I think he worked for Bismark Danish back in the day.” “Well, we both know what happened to Bismark Danish,” Vinyl commented.  “So what’s this guy been doing since then?” Pip shrugged.  “I might be able to do some asking around.” Vinyl shared with him what she knew about Carousel Brass and Mutton Chop.  Pip said he would keep his eyes open. The two of them locked up Fleur’s flat and parted company.  Vinyl went out to her car and got behind the wheel.  She called Fancy and Fleur on conference to tell them what had happened. “She did what!?” Fleur screeched. “Killed a Nazi vampire in your front room, yes.” “One wonders what he was doing there,” Fancypants observed mildly. “Well, if Carousel Brass is a jeweler, it make sense that he works with gold,” speculated Vinyl.  “Nazis stereotypically had a lot of it.” “I think zat is a bit of a stretch,” Fleur observed. “I mean, I’m just saying.  Hell, I stole a lot of gold on the eastern front, and I was one of the good guys,” Vinyl pointed out.  “And anyway, can you think of any other reason a Nazi vampire was in your place at the same time as Octavia?” Fleur could not. “If either of you think of anything, let me know,” said Vinyl as the conversation came to a close.  “I don’t know how long this is going to take, though.  Fancy, can you cover my gigs if this takes a while?” “I shall give it my best attempt,” he promised. “Great.  I’m going to go kick through the bushes and see who falls out.” Vinyl visited Octavia’s place, but she wasn’t there.  She went by Fancy’s place, but Octavia wasn’t there either. Out of possibilities, Vinyl went down to a dingy bar down in Richmond.  Naturally, when one was searching for Nazis, the most German neighborhood in town was a natural place to start. It was not a pub nor a tavern nor a club nor an alehouse.  It was a bar, and not even a decent one.  Words mean things, and this meant it was dark inside, and dirty, and a place more suited for drinking than socializing.  Vinyl’s nose picked out more smells than even she could easily discern.  Looking around, it might have once been a nice place, and despite years of decay, still obviously German, though it was the kind of place where lederhosen were implied, but not actually worn. She sat down at the bar and said, “Newcastle.” They had it, of course.  This was still Britain. The bartender eyed Vinyl as he set down the beer in front of her, but didn’t comment. For her part, Vinyl was hoping luck would come her way.  Clearly, someone knew something was afoot - why else was Sauerkraut Hoagie at Fleur’s place other than to apparently try to intercept Octavia?  Maybe they would take a swing at her, too. While she waited, however, she drank her beer and pondered where Octavia might be now.  What had made her go to Fleur’s place unannounced?  What had she discovered there and where had that taken her? Vinyl had learned a few things in her time.  One was patience.  There was nothing to be done if there simply wasn’t any evidence.  She’d also learned that the older people got, the more predictable they were.  Maybe that was part of why she appreciated Octavia, but it was also part of the reason she’d reinvented herself every few decades.  Some interpreted Vinyl’s attitude as being vapid.  Though, her philosophy about not worrying about things held true. If she could just stop worrying about Octavia. She was still preoccupied with that thought when she detected someone approach.  She smirked into the beer as she lifted it again.  People got predictable as they got older. There was no point in pretending she didn’t know she had company.  Finishing the beer, she spun the barstool around. A statuesque blonde woman stood there, hands on hips.  Her piercing expression was not at all enhanced by the dirndl she wore.  It wasn’t Oktoberfest, and as Vinyl had already noted, nobody else was wearing traditional German garb. Despite the outfit, her hair was loose and over her shoulders instead of in any kind of pigtails.  Otherwise, her makeup and accessories were perfect.  Vinyl did her the favor of getting to the point.  “So, Frieda, what’s Sauerkraut Hoagie been up to?” “We do our best to run a respectable establishment here.”  Frieda’s expression didn’t change. “I never said he was one of yours.  I just figured you might know.  He’s dead, if that makes a difference.” That finally provoked a reaction.  Frieda’s carefully manicured eyebrows went up.  “What happened?” “Not sure.  I think Octavia Melody killed him.” “Who?” Vinyl gestured.  “About this tall.  Brunette.  Stick up her ass.” “Oh.  Your pet.” Vinyl burst out laughing.  “That’s a good one.” “I didn’t even tell a joke.” “No, but you implied it.  The dog has a pet girl!  Classic.” Frieda went back to looking annoyed.  “So why are you here?” “I can’t find Octavia so I thought I’d dig up some clues.  Who was Sauerkraut working for?” “I don’t recall anyone specific.  I think he was freelance.” “Hmm.”  Vinyl considered it.  “That makes things more difficult.  So who would hire a sour Kraut?  Please tell me it has something to do with Nazi gold.” “He wouldn’t have been doing this kind of work if he was rich,” Frieda pointed out. “You never know.  A lot of us get paid pretty well but still get our rocks off howling at the moon every so often.” “Laying it on a bit thick with the werewolf business, aren’t you?” “If I was laying it on thick, I would also be wearing a Wolfmother t-shirt and ordering rare steaks.  And it’s not like I would mind if you did the same.  I totally love the cookies you elves make in a hollow tree.” Frieda glared at her, even as her ears twitched under her hair. “So anyway,” said Vinyl, “Unless you have some way of tracking down either Octavia or whoever might be after her, I guess I’ll just have to sniff around.” Vinyl left a five pound note on the bar and walked out.  The conversation hadn’t gotten her anywhere, but she was still confident that something would turn up. Deciding to try a different track, she went across town to a little pub.  She thought about what Octavia would say about drinking before lunch, not to mention driving while intoxicated.  It made her smile. A bar had a certain implication.  A pub had quite another.  While they certainly still served beer, it was more about the food and the atmosphere. “What’s your fare?” asked the publican. “The mutton,” said Vinyl.  “Actual mutton.” He tipped his hand and a waitress went into the kitchen. “Hey Jack, who’s your supplier?” Vinyl asked him. “You know that’s a trade secret.”  Jack’s smile got a little thinner, but didn’t go away. Vinyl glanced around at the couple other customers in for lunch.  She knew a few of them.  She turned back to Jack.  “You’re in the service industry.  Maybe you know a thing or two about home delivery.” “News travels fast,” Jack acknowledged. “So do you know where I could get an Octavia Melody?” “No,” Jack said simply.  “Though I do hope she’s all right.  If you happen to see her, tell her we’ve just gotten a lovely new black tea in from China.” Vinyl opened her mouth and then shook her head.  “I can’t tell if you were laying anything between the lines that time.  Look, I think someone sent Nazis to kill my best friend and you know how I feel about both of those things.” The order of lamb came out and the waitress put it on the table in front of Vinyl. “So anyway,” Vinyl concluded, “I’d really like to know anything you can tell me.” “What, so you’ll tell Fancypants?” said a voice.  Vinyl turned to meet the eyes of the speaker, who was sitting at a nearby table. He went on.  “I don’t know how you can work for someone like that.” “This isn’t about him,” said Vinyl. “Oh really?  So you have no issues with him committing mass murder?” A couple other people around the room began to mutter. “I don’t really worry about things like that,” said Vinyl.  “And maybe you wouldn’t either if you had nothing to worry about.” “Well, it’s a good thing Ms. Melody is still young and stupid enough to be following him blindly.  Maybe someone has decided to take matters into their own hands, just like Fancypants.” “No, that’s been tried before,” said Vinyl.  “Fancy is a good judge of people.  He saw it coming.  He solved the issue.  Believe it or not, non-violently. “You know, deep down Octavia is a pacifist, too.  She doesn’t want to have to do this.  If she were here, with what you just said, she wouldn’t have responded.  It would have bothered her.  She would question herself.  She would have lowered her head, dropped her eyes, and done that introvert turtle-going-into-its-shell thing.  She wouldn’t have done anything about what you said. “But if she were here, I would have.” Vinyl turned back to her lunch and ate silently.  There was no one to converse with.  It sounded like there wasn’t much conversation in the rest of the room, either. She hadn’t always been Vinyl Scratch the DJ partygirl.  A chameleon of a different color was still the same lizard.  It was amazing how short some people’s memories were. When she was done, she settled the bill with Jack.  He passed her an extra slip of paper along with the receipt, but said nothing. Vinyl waited until she was back at her car to read the note.  It was the name of a jewelry shop.  It wasn’t difficult to look the place up and she got going. The small shop was closed, despite being the middle of the day and having quite a lot of high end merchandise.  Looking in the window, Vinyl noted that nothing carried a tag.  If you have to ask… Vinyl did not ask.  She went around back and hammered on the nondescript door she found there.  No one answered. So, she chunked a loose rock through the front window and drove away. It occurred to her that someone might have been watching the shop and she might have been followed.  But she wasn’t worried. Parking for the tube wasn’t easy to find, but Vinyl slotted her car into a space and paid the toll.  She grabbed a duffel bag from the back of the car and headed to the underground.  She’d found some rather excellent places that were just out of public view.  One just had to lead the unsuspecting there. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ambushed Nazis. She went through an unmarked door which led to unpainted concrete walls, pipes, and wires.  Down a maintenance hall from the main station concourse, Vinyl set down her duffel, took off her sunglasses, and pulled out a machete.  She leaned against the wall, safely out of sight around a corner. It was almost too easy.  As a pair of people approached, Vinyl visualized their footsteps and came out of hiding swinging.  Her blade lopped an arm off the first man and sliced downward across the kneecap of the second.  She followed up with a spinning kick that caught one forehead and one ear, the soles of her trainers scraping across skin. Of course, this would have been fine if they hadn’t been armed as well, in a manner of speaking, anyway.  The one who still had two pulled a gun while Vinyl was still winding up for another swing and shot her point blank in the stomach, the muzzle blast singeing her shirt even as the bullet slammed into her. Vinyl’s breath hitched and her body locked up, falling backwards as if hit with a shotgun blast.  Her stomach gushed blood, and also smoke.  She convulsed, hands grabbing at her wound.  Pulling silver bullets out was Octavia’s job.  Her deft fingers were some of the most gentle Vinyl had ever experienced.  Well, by comparison to all the other times she’d been shot with silver bullets. The Nazi vampires took a second to regroup while Vinyl was down.  They shouldn’t have even taken that long, though, because she managed to tear the bullet out even as it burned her fingers.  She threw it away, and then, she changed. Werewolves were effectively just very specialized shapeshifters.  Granted, there were some other perks too, but it basically boiled down to being able to manipulate themselves between human and wolf.  And a werewolf with a lot of practice could get creative. Hands for dexterity, claws for bloodletting, feet for stability, ruff for protection, teeth for tearing, tail for balance.  Vinyl’s favorite.  Bones in her jaws, blood on her tongue, screams in her ears. A stake to the heart was a good way to kill a vampire.  Beheading was another.  A machete would have done the job cleaner, but Vinyl’s maw was just fine.  She got ahold of a throat and shook head.  Blood, the gun, meat - flew everywhere. It was not torture, it didn’t last long enough. The other one tried to pry her off and she crushed his wrist between her teeth before turning back to the other, who was already lying limply but not quite vivisected.  She climbed on top of his body, chomping at the neck and digging a hole in his chest with her claws. A kick caught her under the ribs, but she quickly reversed and snapped at the new target. The one with the missing arm was now missing a leg below the knee too.  He fell backwards as Vinyl abandoned the other vampire.  He was spread thinly enough already. “Stop,” her remaining target panted, leaving a slime trail of blood across the floor as he backed into the wall. It was funny what people said at times like this.  “Stop” was a common one, or “no.”  Sometimes atheists would find religion.  Sometimes they would cry for mother.  Nazis never called for Hitler, though. “Where is she?” Vinyl asked, human vocal cords still working behind her jaws, blood gurgling out of her mouth. “P-probably went to find Mutton.” Not Carousel?  No biggie. “Where?” “The plant in SilvertownOH G-” When she was sure they were both dead, Vinyl changed back.  She pulled both bodies through another door and dumped them on the train tracks. She toweled off and got redressed from the duffel.  It was always a good idea to have a change of clothes in this business.  Stowing everything back in the bag, she put her sunglasses back on and left the station. Vinyl looked up a few things on her phone and got back in the car.  There was a meat packing plant in Silvertown, not too far from where the event center where the dog show had taken place.  The building was right on the river and probably processed all kinds of edible creatures. However, when Vinyl arrived, it was on fire.  This seemed like a good indication that she was in the correct place. Avoiding the responding emergency services, she drove around, scouting for potential exit points from the burning building away from the public. That was how she found Octavia. Vinyl stopped the car and got out, hurrying over.  Octavia’s clothes were ripped and bloodstained.  She sat head down, with her back to the low security wall that ran around the perimeter of the plant. She lifted her face at the sound of Vinyl’s approach.  Bloody tears dripped from her eyes, though her expression changed as she saw who it was. Octavia sniffed and blinked, straightening her back and doing her best to appear composed.  That wasn’t going to happen, not with everything she had gotten stained by, but Vinyl pretended not to notice. “Hey,” said Vinyl softly.  She touched Octavia’s shoulder. Octavia leaned into her, and began to cry again.