Howdy, fellow Wattpadders!

I'm extremely excited to have joined in on a second round of the Wattpad Block Party, thanks to the wonderful KellyAnneBlount

My post consisted of highlighting two of my favorite characters:

Zeke Petrov from The Night Reporter

and

Imogen Amore from Cursed and Followed

Zeke's an arrogant reporter on the hook for murder charges, and Imogen's an arrogant vampire slayer with more than just preternatural strength. She's a prescient telepath.

Both characters are based in Florida, for the most part, and if they were to meet, I thought this would be the most likely of settings and outcomes.

Enjoy!

~*~

~2 years earlier~

"You heard of these Living Dolls?"

Samantha dropped her notes on Zeke's desk. He ceased typing to give them a cursory glance.

"Sounds like a horror movie. Gimme the premise." He resumed typing.

She chuckled, used to his humor by now. "Think 'red-light district,' but in downtown Tampa."

Zeke pushed away from his desk. Tampa had the highest number of strip clubs in the nation, and sex workers were not unheard of. However, anything resembling a red-light district was news to him. Hopefully, it was news Martinez wanted to feature, too.

The murmurs, ringing phones, and click-clack of computers in The Times open-floor office settled to a din as Zeke read over Samantha's notes.

"Holy fuck. This is Dateline shit."

Samantha beamed. "Right?"

"How'd you hear about it?"

"Friend of mine heard a rumor. Figured you and I could visit the spot together."

He grabbed his phone and checked for his wallet. "Atta girl. Let's go."

They stopped by the spot her friend had indicated. It was down Kennedy, tucked away in between buildings. Wooden eaves jutted out, long columns flanking the picture windows. Empty picture windows.

"Maybe they only work at night," Samantha suggested.

"Maybe."

After staking it out until dark, the spot remained empty. The two reporters shared a tuna melt in the car, building theories of where to look next. Zeke suggested if the Dolls were real, they moved around to avoid authorities. Samantha agreed it was likely, and both decided to follow leads.

The buzz of a new story hit Zeke. He loved the thrill of finding something strange, something new, but loathed the time he knew this was going to take up.

In the back of his mind, a whisper started, one he'd tapered for at least a year.

There's a way to get there faster.

Yes, there was. A medicinal vacation. The euphemism he'd created as a young adult, to cover the truth: it was a break from his meds.

It was tempting, but stupid. Though, that combination rarely stayed Zeke. He had staved off medicinal vacations for fear of scaring off his partner. His behavior was unpredictable, even as the results of solving a case were always impeccable. Somehow, the vacations allowed his brain to move faster, enabled him to piece together the clues in a more efficient manner.

After a day, he deliberately skipped his meds the next morning.

By that afternoon, he met up with his old friend, August, who had a splendid idea for taking the story in a new direction.

"The teen boy from the vamp club story? He said his mom left him to do 'dirty' work. Maybe he meant work as a Doll."

"August, you're a damn genius."

"I know."

Finding the boy was hard, but eventually he turned up. With Samantha's coaxing, the boy agreed to an interview. He was living in a shelter, and asked for money for food. Once they came to a suitable sum, he began relaying his knowledge of his mother's whereabouts.

During, she noticed how Zeke deferred to someone next to him. After they'd left the boy, she asked him, "Who's August?"

Zeke shook his head. "Nobody."

In the car, she told him, "You've been weird lately, but I kinda like it." She smiled. "We make a good team."

He returned the smile, resisting the urge to nod at August in the back seat.

~*~

~Now~

Zeke checked his pocket. Whew, still there.

Somehow, he had remembered to grab the make-up spray. And his father's car keys. With the other murder and all, he needed to lay very low. Skirting about town in his car would do no good.

He hopped in his father's black sedan, balking at the strong smell of hair oil. As he reapplied the magic make-up, he decided on the next course of action.

With limited access to info, he had no way to verify details on Carter, or the other girl. Even his mother proved to be a slippery alibi.

Like your memory.

Zeke shook off the taunt.

He had to find someplace to hide out, somewhere safe. He had to figure things out, plan the next move.

Couldn't go to his apartment, not his parent's place, and certainly not the office. There was one other place he visited often, and at noon on a weekday, he knew he wouldn't be turned away. Inspiration properly piqued, Zeke drove onward, blasting the AC to dry the reapplied coat of make-up on his hands.

~*~

Zeke slid down in the plush seat, trying to get a better view of the screen.

Of all the available seats, and a tall bozo with bushy hair had to plunk down right in front of me.

"People are so oblivious, aren't they?"

He jumped, investigating the interrupter next to him: a tall blonde. Huh. She had no trouble looking over other people's heads. She was the kind other people hated in movie theaters. But she was hot. Zeke thought if she starred in a movie, it'd be called: Hottie Interuptus.

"It's whatever," he whispered back.

He considered the stupidity of engaging, as he'd snuck in the building to lay low. Only a smattering of customers shared the theater with him, being 12:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. For Zeke, it was the perfect resting spot out of the sun, and out of sight from anyone's recognition.

Then her pouty lips parted slightly, and he couldn't think much after that.

On screen, a dude with a man-bun was laughing, explaining to his friends about his one-night stand with a vampire. Zeke sighed and resettled his attention on the blonde.

He wondered what she was doing, sitting next to him of all places, talking to him.

All the same, his heart fell when she spoke again:

"I'm here waiting for my husband, just wasting time."

"Oh, uh, cool."

Though lame, he kept his answer short because he also hated when people talked during movies.

"Vamp sex is so hot!" The man-bun loudly exclaimed, almost as though he were opposed to being ignored.

Hottie Interruptus sputtered with laughter, throwing her glorious head back to reveal a graceful neck. At that moment, Zeke thought vamp sex didn't sound so bad after all.

She gestured at the screen. "Vamps would make for a bad lay," she said, voice low.

He leaned in close. "Is it cause they'd suck ya dry?"

"That, and they bite off appendages."

Zeke leaned away from her, but surveyed her with renewed interest. "No one ever agrees with me that vamps aren't like they are in the movies."

She shrugged, "I hunt 'em, so I gotta know this stuff."

He'd heard it all, but indulged her insanity due to her hottie status.

"Got any tips for me?"

"Sure." She briefly held up a gleaming weapon. "Learn how to use a sword. They hate that."

Now he was smiling, inwardly disparaging her wedding ring. "Anything else?"

"I suggest..." here, her silky voice absolutely purred, "...dying your hair, wearing a hat, or a fake mustache, maybe?"

"Huh?" Could be she was into kinky stuff he had yet to try.

Hottus Interruptus grinned. "I'm not gonna turn ya in, dude."

Zeke's eyes widened and he shot up straight in the chair. "What?"

Her grin didn't fall, even a little bit. "You might be innocent, I dunno. The memories are fuzzy, but I think you're okay."

Hottus Interruptus was also Crazus Interruptus.

"I've gotta go," he fumbled over the words, simultaneously tripping over his feet in a hasty retreat.

An ebony dread-locked beauty asked man-bun, "Think you'll see him again?"

Zeke power-walked along the carpeted aisle, wishing to escape quickly, but hoping to appear calm. He avoided eye-contact with the handful of people sitting in the back row. Before he reached the door, he was stopped by the blonde's warning:

"Remember, Zeke, at least a hat. That's easy!"

"Shhhhhh!"

A couple in the back rows narrowed their eyes at Zeke, probably the shushers. He threw up his hands and wound a finger next to his temple, tossing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Crazus Interruptus, who smiled, unconcerned.

"Can't handle rejection," he whispered.

They nodded in understanding, the guy giggling a bit.

Zeke held in his own giggles, his stride increasing in speed when he heard the on-screen man-bun declare:

"Oh, I'll see him again. In fact, I'm gonna seek him out."

~*~