As those watching at home were treated to the unique video hyping the newest member of the roster, Jezebel Mitchell, they weren't expecting what happened after the video package played out. The live camera feed was in some old graveyard. Jezebel walked around dressed in black leather skinny pants, matching chunky heeled ankle boots, a black camisole shirt, and a dark blue denim jacket. As she walked among the craves, she kept an eye out for any that looked fresh.
Spotting a few that looked promising, she started to slowly circle around them. Taking a old-fashioned pearl handled polished silver straight razor from her jacket pocket, with a practiced flick of her wrist it was open, and she started dragging the blade over the soft skin exposed by the low-cut of her top. A gentle pressure accompanied by a little twist of her fingers was enough for the tip of the blade to slice into her flesh. A shallow cut in her skin, but she drug the blade seductively across her skin, lengthening the cut and making sure the scent of her blood was in the air.
Once she pulled the razor away from her skin, her tongue darted out between her lips as she licked her own blood from the blade slowly before she put it away back in the pocket of her jacket. Once the razor was back in her jacket pocket, her eyes closed as she started to focus on her surroundings. She sensed the low-rent bloodsucker before he'd even risen from his grave. She felt the sharp sweet ache of his hunger even before he'd fully awakened.
Jezebel edged closer to his grave, already getting a adrenaline high from flirting with danger. In the space between two heartbeats he was upon her, exploding from the ground near her feet to grab her in a tight embrace. Lips, tongue, and teeth acting on animal instinct as he lowered his face to the bloody cut on her upper chest with a sigh of contentment.
Jezebel allowed his tongue to skate over the cut, lapping greedily at the blood there while she looked him over.
Jezebel Mitchell
"Why do all the pretty ones gotta be vampires?"
She asked the empty graveyard around them. She didn't really expect an answer from the creature currently holding her in his tight embrace, and she didn't get one as he was far more interested in her blood.
Jezebel Mitchell
"I'd love to leave you around, sweet thing, but I need to make a point and you're a convenient sacrifice. Nothing personal."
She said softly, pulling a stake made from blackened ash from her jacket pocket and deliberately driving it into the heart of her would-be attacker. He fell to dust and ash the moment her sharpened stake drove through his heart. The remains blew around her in the slight breeze as she glanced down at her already healing self-inflicted cut. Hearing soft applause from behind her caused Jezebel to whirl on her heels, her body tensed and ready for a fight.
She relaxed immediataly when she saw the source of the clapping was just her father.
James Mitchell
"Took your sweet time in destroying that one, Jez. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, DON'T TEASE THE VAMPIRES!"
Jezebel Mitchell
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad. That one was a weakling, couldn't have been more than a few nights old."
James Mitchell
"They won't all be weaklings, Jezebel. Especially where you're heading soon."
He reached to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded stack of paperwork with the official logo of the CWA embossed on one of the pages.
Jezebel Mitchell
"You did it, Dad? You got me in? I love you!"
She leapt, quickly closing the short distance between them, leaping right into her father's waiting arms. Her arms slipped around his neck as his went around her waist, holding her up with ease as she hugged him.
James Mitchell
"Was there ever any doubt that I could get you in? Now that you're offically part of the 'family business' I'll be expecting much more from you, chiefly that you listen to me and do things the way I tell you. No more playtime, Jez, from now on you won't be fighting untrained weaklings. You'll be facing skilled fighters with years of training in their respective abilities. You're my daughter, and the fact that you've chosen to take my name over your mothers just means that expectations will be set rather high for you.
I love you, Jezebel, but Satan help you if you bring dishonor on our family. Is that clear?"
She looked up at him and nodded.
Jezebel Mitchell
"Clear as crystal, Dad. I won't let you down."
James Mitchell
"Good, see that you don't."
He said, then set her back down on her feet. The pair started making their way through the old deserted graveyard, side by side, discussing the expectations of Jezebel's new contract.
(TBC; Anyone with good reason for being in an abandoned graveyard late at night, or end)