Tale about Sins... Prologue in english

Title: Panic! Vampires! Or a Tale about Sins, Tragedy and Blood.
Author:Mary Yakushina
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
POV: 3rd
Translation: Woah Sam
Beta:Kenzie B'Roll
Disclaimer: Not real, never happened


Panic! Vampires! Or a Tale about Sins, Tragedy, & Blood.


“There could be only one panic at the disco.”

The old city water park… It’s closed at night; and the police tried to “guard” it from a distance by having fun with girls from the cabaret at dirty motels, which any practiced Catholic would cross themselves upon entering, in the old part of the city. By nightfall, this place is a favorite for lovers, skaters, drug-addicted teenagers and other kids who have crashed their parent’s hopes.  But in the winter, which always seemed to come suddenly, they leave the water park… with the exception of those for whom the icy wind roars through the blue, plastic mazes; or the chants of the dead boy’s chorus in the crypt are as pleasant as a cup of “Lady Grey” and egg salad sandwiches.

But honestly, Brendon isn’t one of those people who prefer to spend his evenings in a “tea service” society with sugar-bowls and those little silver tongs you only see in the movies. Any kind of hot drink or a bottle of wine is enough to brighten the loneliness, but Brendon prefers another kind of drink. To be very honest, Bren isn’t even human. He looks like a twenty-one year old guy with dark hair and brown eyes that could cause a riot (girls call him “Awesome!”) He’s dressed too cold for the weather; his black fine shirt with rolled up sleeves, the black vest for dinner parties, and his hat, smartly shifted to one side. He wears tight, black pants and expensive leather shoes. But, the cold doesn’t bother him as he sits on the edge of the pool, lowering his feet into the cold water and drumming a rhythm on the tile with his heels. Near him is an unfinished bottle of martini "Rosso".  Neither the dark night, nor the giant sunglasses, which were very popular in the last century, prevented the young man from reading the day’s newspaper with a sort of dark passion. His full lips from time to time evolve into a weary smile or into a funny gasp - in  short, his expressive lips could live lives of their own, which we could dedicate an entire poem full of emotion upheavals and expositions worthy of singing on Broadway. They can play all the roles with such sincerity that they make you cry.

The headline reads:

"BLOODY PAOLO VERDE HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION - GOVERNMENT SHRUGS"

    "After the elusive maniac's massacre at the local diner last week, he committed a mass slaughter of many young people; and, again, escaped from the police's hands!"

Brendon, dissatisfied, curls his lips and mutters "nonsense" and crumples the newspaper. He hears the sound of familiar footsteps; that's his friend - Brent Wilson.

"Brendon? Brendon Urie?" Brent says disbelievingly.

Brendon sighs and pulls his feet out of water, takes off his left shoe, taps it, (shaking out remaining moisture) and then, without turning, says, "Hi, Brent. I could hear that it was you when you were crossing the road in the next quarter." Brent might as well have said, ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

Brent laughs nervously. "Just joking… What are you doing here?" The fear in his voice was like melted ice cream for Brendon; and he involuntarily licks his lips.

"Resting." he mumbles, feeling the needles in the mouth… Damn, that's so inopportune. To distract himself, Urie drinks his martini at a gulp and takes off his other shoe.

"From what? The water park is closed…" This sounds like an interrogation; but the investigator seems very scared. Urie chuckles, puts on his boots, sits up and looks at Brent through his glasses.

"Tell me, Brent, what smell do you think the water park has?" He says it with obvious sarcasm.

Brent shrugs, eyes pointed upwards. “Lollipops?”

Brendon grimaces and, with the tone of doctor on duty, says, "It smells of water, Brent, the water park smells of water. I usually come here because HERE'S the only place without smell of … human." Brendon looks strangely at Brent's neck, and even the dark glasses couldn't hide it. But, Brendon, immediately and sharply, grabs himself at his ear and turns to face the pool. Brendon thinks, ‘One. Two. Three. Inhale… Exhale… C'mon, hold yourself together! You mustn't do it! Especially not now! Not when all the clues point to you!’ And then, as luck would have it, at that moment his upper gums hurt as if hot needles were stabbing him. ‘God damn it!’

"What. Did. You. Forget. Here?" Brendon screams, writhing in pain over the pool. It's getting hard to breath.

Brent freezes. He doesn’t move, observing Urie’s strange behavior; therefore he can't answer.

"The band…" Brendon urged on.

"Oh, right… the band…" Brent stammered.

Brendon takes a staggered breath and tries to change the subject of the conversation.  "What's the name?"

"Summer League."

"Very funny!" Brendon said, sarcastically.

An awkward silence ensues. Obviously, this meeting didn't fit the picture of flowers and dinner, not even a ghostly hint of the expected “sugar-bowl” sincerity. No, these two obviously are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Brent doesn’t appear afraid, still standing confidently in his spot. But you can smell the fear radiating off of him.

Brendon takes off his hat, throws it to the side, slightly cocks his head and says ,"What's wrong, Brent? You have a rapid pulse."

Wilson shudders, but he tries to answer as loudly and confidently as possible. "I haven't seen you in more than two weeks. Where have you been?"

Urie feels that it's hard to breath and his eyes run over the walls in search of something, anything, to focus on. Some sort of salvation. "I was sick..”

"Yeah?  Really?  Do you know what i think?" Brent's scoffs rudely.

"Okay, what?"

Brent makes theatrical pause and begins to broadcast. "That it’s strange that you show up in the city at night, but when attacks started, you suddenly disappeared completely. That it’s strange that when I looked on the Internet, purely put of curiosity, I learned that you're enrolled in Paolo Verde high school, but you have never been there. That it’s strange that you rented the room just next to the local diner and apparently, you have been working there for some time. Or are all of those just lies?”

Brendon loses his temper and smiles wry, showing his aching pair of sharp fangs. Brent steps back in surprise. “And what's you conclusion?"

Brent nervously gulps. "You're not who I thought you were… Who are you?"

It's all over, Brendon knows it. Brent knows too much. Urie takes off his glasses to reveal his sinister eyes.  Brent lets out a strangled scream as Brendon’s red eyes burn with fire.

"I'm a vampire" Brendon whispers and takes one step forward.

***
It's getting colder and stars in the sky slowly begin to fade. An inappropriate cheerful wind tosses old crumpled newspapers around the park. Two guys stand near Brent’s cold body. One of them is Spencer Smith. He frowns and tosses his drumstick in the air and catches it again. This drumstick is unusual- carved from aspen and sharp-pointed at the end. Spencer is an amateur vampire hunter.

The other one is Ryan Ross, Spencer’s best friend. He keeps his hands behind his back and it seems that he's in a completely different world at the moment.

"Someone killed our bass guitarist" Spencer says as he catches the drumstick one last time.

Ryan nods absently, the lyrics for their new song coming to mind. Spencer notices that and sighs. He squats next to the body and turns Brent's head to the side. He isn’t surprised when he sees two bloody bites on the white neck. "This wasn’t a drunken teenage accident.”

Ryan looks at his friend and sees in Spencer's eyes – the hunt for the vampire has begun. ;