The Interview is now in Antiserum Part II, The Rising...
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The scene is, Jocelyn Bairen was called in by Private Eye Investigator Mr. Callor. Mr. Callor has been investigating the murder of an American tourist that was in Transylvania at the same time Jocelyn was, and Mr. Callor has reason to believe Jocelyn was a part in Eric Henson's murder.
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Jocelyn Bairen sat in the metal chair of the interrogation room. The room was small with one row of flickering lights in the middle of the cement ceiling that, unsurprisingly, matched the even colder cement walls. The interrogator paced in front of her on the other side of the table. His tie was undone and sweat glistened on his balding head. “Why don’t you just stay out of my head?” He asked. “Just answer my questions, please?”
Jocelyn laughed, “I just did; I favor manipulation.”
The interrogator, Mr. Callor, pinched the bridge of his nose, “That doesn’t mean you have to manipulate me into telling you the intimate details of my life. Knock it off.”
“Fine.” Jocelyn said happily as she stared at the wall to her left side, trying to find something different to look at.
Mr. Callor grabbed the back of his chair, “Let’s start over, where were you born?”
Jocelyn sighed and then turned her head to him, “Loma Linda Hospital in Loma Linda, California.”
“What do you like to do as a past time?” He fired off.
“Read.” She yawned.
Mr. Callor shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. “What do you like to read?”
Jocelyn’s eyebrows pulled together. “Ironically, vampire novels.” She almost snickered.
“Don’t joke around, Ms. Bairen.” Mr. Callor said sternly before beginning to pace again. “Do you play any sports?”
Jocelyn couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, I play hockey. You know that saying, ‘Give Blood, Play Hockey’?” She added. “Yeah, it’s perfect for me.”
She could tell Mr. Callor was getting fairly angered at this point. “I mean it,” He warned. “Take this seriously.” He sighed and blotted the sweat drops on his forehead with a pocket hankie. “What is your family like?”
Jocelyn’s nails dug into the hard steel arms of her chair, creating small notches. “They watch me like a hawk.” She stated bluntly.
Mr. Callor noticed her distaste and asked quickly, “Why’s that?”
Jocelyn slid a bit further down into the steel chair in an attempt to get comfortable. “I tend to sneak out of the house when I’m hungry.” Boredom shrouded her voice heavily.
“What do you mean by that?” He asked, leaning onto the table a little more.
Quickly seeing no more use in trying to get comfortable, Jocelyn sat up and gazed at Mr. Callor, “It means exactly what it sounds like, Mr. Callor.” Her blue eyes, shining with a bit of silver, pierced into his fiercely.
His voice quieted as he sat down, “Explain this to me.”
Jocelyn resisted the urge to growl. “You know why I’m here just as well as I do, Mr. Callor. There is no use to keep dancing around the thought you’ve wanted to say this whole time.”
She watched him gulp. “You murdered Eric Henson.” Mr. Callor’s voice wavered slightly. He hadn’t allowed himself to believe this was true.
“Yes.” Jocelyn said sternly.
“Why?” He asked; his voice suddenly hushed.
Jocelyn leaned over the table, not caring as her elongated fangs peeked from her lips as she talked. “Because I was thirsty… just as I am now.” Her voice carried an almost threatening undertone.
Mr. Callor’s hands shook slightly and his heart raced; pumping his blood so loud it excited Jocelyn. It caused her to smile broadly and expose her sharp fangs fully. Thirst had already turned her blue eyes to silver as her fingers twitched in anticipation of her gaining her new prey.
“I- I think this interview is over.” He stammered in fright.
Jocelyn was already standing slowly; capturing Mr. Callor in her deadly gaze. “I think it’s a little too late for that.” She smiled. Her hand grabbed a hold of the back of her steel chair and in one swift movement she had swung it over her head and smashed it into the lights overhead; lapsing the small room into complete darkness.
Her eyes had already adjusted in a split second, leaving Mr. Callor blindly feeling his way from his chair to the back wall.
“Marco?” Jocelyn asked in a quiet, devilish tone.
Mr. Callor began to scream.
Jocelyn Bairen sat in the metal chair of the interrogation room. The room was small with one row of flickering lights in the middle of the cement ceiling that, unsurprisingly, matched the even colder cement walls. The interrogator paced in front of her on the other side of the table. His tie was undone and sweat glistened on his balding head. “Why don’t you just stay out of my head?” He asked. “Just answer my questions, please?”
Jocelyn laughed, “I just did; I favor manipulation.”
The interrogator, Mr. Callor, pinched the bridge of his nose, “That doesn’t mean you have to manipulate me into telling you the intimate details of my life. Knock it off.”
“Fine.” Jocelyn said happily as she stared at the wall to her left side, trying to find something different to look at.
Mr. Callor grabbed the back of his chair, “Let’s start over, where were you born?”
Jocelyn sighed and then turned her head to him, “Loma Linda Hospital in Loma Linda, California.”
“What do you like to do as a past time?” He fired off.
“Read.” She yawned.
Mr. Callor shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. “What do you like to read?”
Jocelyn’s eyebrows pulled together. “Ironically, vampire novels.” She almost snickered.
“Don’t joke around, Ms. Bairen.” Mr. Callor said sternly before beginning to pace again. “Do you play any sports?”
Jocelyn couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, I play hockey. You know that saying, ‘Give Blood, Play Hockey’?” She added. “Yeah, it’s perfect for me.”
She could tell Mr. Callor was getting fairly angered at this point. “I mean it,” He warned. “Take this seriously.” He sighed and blotted the sweat drops on his forehead with a pocket hankie. “What is your family like?”
Jocelyn’s nails dug into the hard steel arms of her chair, creating small notches. “They watch me like a hawk.” She stated bluntly.
Mr. Callor noticed her distaste and asked quickly, “Why’s that?”
Jocelyn slid a bit further down into the steel chair in an attempt to get comfortable. “I tend to sneak out of the house when I’m hungry.” Boredom shrouded her voice heavily.
“What do you mean by that?” He asked, leaning onto the table a little more.
Quickly seeing no more use in trying to get comfortable, Jocelyn sat up and gazed at Mr. Callor, “It means exactly what it sounds like, Mr. Callor.” Her blue eyes, shining with a bit of silver, pierced into his fiercely.
His voice quieted as he sat down, “Explain this to me.”
Jocelyn resisted the urge to growl. “You know why I’m here just as well as I do, Mr. Callor. There is no use to keep dancing around the thought you’ve wanted to say this whole time.”
She watched him gulp. “You murdered Eric Henson.” Mr. Callor’s voice wavered slightly. He hadn’t allowed himself to believe this was true.
“Yes.” Jocelyn said sternly.
“Why?” He asked; his voice suddenly hushed.
Jocelyn leaned over the table, not caring as her elongated fangs peeked from her lips as she talked. “Because I was thirsty… just as I am now.” Her voice carried an almost threatening undertone.
Mr. Callor’s hands shook slightly and his heart raced; pumping his blood so loud it excited Jocelyn. It caused her to smile broadly and expose her sharp fangs fully. Thirst had already turned her blue eyes to silver as her fingers twitched in anticipation of her gaining her new prey.
“I- I think this interview is over.” He stammered in fright.
Jocelyn was already standing slowly; capturing Mr. Callor in her deadly gaze. “I think it’s a little too late for that.” She smiled. Her hand grabbed a hold of the back of her steel chair and in one swift movement she had swung it over her head and smashed it into the lights overhead; lapsing the small room into complete darkness.
Her eyes had already adjusted in a split second, leaving Mr. Callor blindly feeling his way from his chair to the back wall.
“Marco?” Jocelyn asked in a quiet, devilish tone.
Mr. Callor began to scream.
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