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Crimson Concrete

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“Ugh, my dude, you would not believe the day I just had!” Eijirou gripes as he shoves open their shitty apartment door with a hearty shoulder jerk- spilling into the hallway like a drunk. He’d just gotten home from his late afternoon classes and he honestly could not wait to just eat nachos in his underwear. It was an utmost favourite past time of his.

Eijirou sighs at the sight of his ‘home sweet home,’ seeing rather blatantly that Bakugou, once again had left his shoes on inside. Therefore tracking dirt into the creaking floorboards once more.

His room mate wasn’t exactly the most… respectful when it came to- well, anything. But Eijirou would be damned if he said that cranky bro didn’t make a killer chili.

As Eijirou moved down the little dingy hallway, he continued to speak. Making sure to have his voice carry through the small space so he could be heard. “I had two exams one after the other and let’s just say that the last time I got screwed over that hard, I was in a bathroom at denny’s.” With a laugh he turns the corner to the kitchen he, Kaminari and Bakugou all shared together with much struggle. He was already imagining the sweet, sweet smell of gas station cheese in their shitty microwave~

It’s then and there that he sees Bakugou Katsuki.

Completely, and entirely, covered in blood.

His once presumably white shirt had been tinged scarlet and his mess of hair was even worse than usual. His skin was a sickly pale hue that made him look like a corpse and he had a large (animal?) bite on the nape of his neck.

“Wow, that really fuckin’ sucks.” Bakugou said, completely neutral, and unaffected by Eijirou’s choked gasp, he continued to scroll on his phone. “Wouldn’t want to switch places with your sorry ass today.”

Eijirou stares in utter, abject horror at his friend. There was no way that was fake blood. Eijirou Kirishima was a connoisseur in the art of pranking- he knew the properties of a good fake blood and this wasn’t it.

“Bakugou!” He shrieks, rushing over to him, “we need to get you to a hospital- you’re covered in blood.”

Upon hearing the noise, his second room mate, Kaminari Denki, arises from the bathroom with a wince- the steam from the shower falling out of the door like a wave. Rubbing his still damp hair with a towel, he takes one look at the situation- he sees Bakugou caked in his own blood and Eijirou on the verge of fainting and he can only summon one coherent thought. “What. The. Fuck?”

Bakugou turns at the noise and begins to glare at Kaminari. “Oi, shithead, did you eat my cereal this morning?”

Kaminari raises his eyebrows at that. “Uhhh… Were they the froot loops?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, looking twice as venomous than usual with all the fucking blood on his face. “Fuckin’ duh.”

“Oh, well, maybe.” Kaminari has the good grace to look sheepish.

“You son of a bit-”

Eijirou makes a noise of great incredulity- this was absurd. This was batshit crazy.

“Cereal is not the most pressing issue right now, guys!”

Bakugou huffs, turning to face Eijirou with a glare that was most likely just his normal facial expression at this point. “Calm your tits, shitty hair, I’m fine.”

“Dude! You look like a corpse! We need to take you to the E.R!”

“Nah fuck that, in this economy?” Bakugou clicks his tongue, “I’m fine. I feel great.”

Eijirou looks at him like he was utterly insane. No one covered in that much gore could be fine. If they kept squabbling over fucking froot loops, Bakugou was definitely going to die.

“I’m fucking serious,” Bakugou says with a growl, standing up. “I’m not hurt at all.” He lifts up his shirt to show the pair- an action that would have elicited a much different reaction between them all if it were in any other context than right now.

Aside from the residual blood on his skin, he was completely fine. His skin didn’t have any bruising or cuts on it, it was the same milky white as the rest of his body. The only mark apparently on him was the bite at his neck.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Eijirou is scanning Bakugou like a fucking barcode reader- and he may not be the smartest man alive, but he could tell that something was definitely amiss here.

A thought strikes Eijirou that has his blood go cold. “Is this your blood on your shirt?”  

Bakugou snorts in derision, “ yes, it is- I didn’t fucking murder someone if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Dude, what is that thing on your neck?” Kaminari asks next, moving closer to inspect it.

Kaminari Denki wasn’t the smartest man alive either, so he decides to poke the wound on Bakugou’s nape.

Bakugou instantly reels back with a little hiss of pain, “Ow, fuck! Don’t do that.”

Kaminari and Eijirou exchange a glance.

“Okay, this is weird.” Eijirou says, wondering if this was some weird obscure nightmare he’d just stumbled upon by accident. “What the hell happened to you, bro?”

Bakugou shakes off the worried gazes from his friends with an unattractive sneer, throwing himself back down onto the chair. He has the back of his neck cupped by his hands now, almost like he were shielding it from any further prods.

Bakugou looks pensive in his seat, like he wasn’t exactly sure how to even begin to tell his two roommates of what had happened. It was valid, in all honesty, for this was the kind of shit one would only read in dumb stories.

Bakugou Katsuki takes a deep breath and, with a bloodied hand and toxins in his veins- He starts this long winded tale with a quite ineloquent, “okay, you’re not going to fucking believe me but-”

 

Bakugou’s life had never been normal persee, but it was, without a doubt, about to get way fucking weirder.

Especially since it had been extended indefinitely.

 

Now Bakugou Katsuki was pretty sure he had this vampire shit down to a tee. All he had to do was stay away from the sunlight, avoid churches and not have any attachments to humans? That was literally how Katsuki had lived his life up until now- it was the exact same, except, he supposed, with higher stakes (ha, get it?)

And now that he’d figured out everything- that all this cuckoo bananas shit was actually forreal, he could start testing it out for himself.

The first thing Katsuki did as a tester was put his right arm out in the sun. Not exactly an entirely intelligent gesture- considering that nearly every vampire movie had sunlight as a vampire’s literal worst enemy.

His skin sizzled like a particularly fatty steak and he felt a burning brimming from his hand.

However, he did not disintegrate into dust.

Good to know.

That would have been a bit shit.

It’s really not like Katsuki could go and ask someone about this kind of stuff. When he’d been bitten he hadn’t exactly asked for the dude’s instagram or some shit.

And every time he looked up stuff on the internet he proved it to be false within the next moments.

The only source, that had some provable factual recounts about vampires (and was actually a rather helpful guide) was a really bad twilight fanfiction from 2007.

Katsuki owed his life to Xx-eat-my-ass-edward-cu11en93-xX and he would find her someday to thank her.

And also ask why the fuck anyone in the world would think for a moment that Edward Cullen WASN’T a bottom.

Katsuki’s making a list on his phone- one that, out of context would make somehow even less sense than with it. It’s a bunch of things that he hasn’t quite tested out yet about his so-called ‘vampiric powers,’ along with what he knew. Both Kirishima and Kaminari had retired for the evening- the pair having morning classes the next day, losers.  

 

 

  • Sunlight is no fucking bueno? No it’s fine- I just fucking sound like frying chicken
  • Enhanced Eyesight? Definitely- I can actually see what those ‘I’m not a robot’ captcha quizzes fuckin say finally
  • Rampant, uncontrollable thirst? = only for Sasuke Uchiha
  • Bitchin’ Fangs? H E L L  Y E S, kiri nearly shat himself when I was brushing them this morning
  • Super strength and speed? TBD
  • Human Blood > Animal Blood? TBD
  • Aversion to Garlic? TBD
  • Sleeping in a coffin? Bold to assume I sleep at all

 

 

Katsuki was always one for finishing things promptly and efficiently- so, with phone still in hand. He runs (with his fuckign SICK super speed) to the little 24 hour grocery store down the road.

He must look like some crazy asshole- his hair was definitely a mess and his skin still had that sickly pallor that began when he was bitten.

It definitely didn’t help when he approached the poor dude at the counter with a manic look in his eye, “y’all got fuckin’ garlic?”

The young man looks at him with a neutral kind of curiosity. He didn’t look any older than Katsuki, perhaps even younger. But there was something in his expression that told Katsuki he’d seen a lot of shit working the graveyard shift at this place.

Well, he was going to see some more tonight.

“Uh, yeah, it’s over there.” The man points over toward the left corner of the small store, off to where those little tasty bastards were, situated in a small pile next to the onions.  

Katsuki saunters on over, picking up the largest garlic clove he could find in the group and, without hesitation, bites into it like it was a fucking apple.

The store clerk doesn’t even bat an eyelash when Katsuki hisses like a banshee. “Good fuck! Jesus Christ’s tasty asshole- what in GOD’S name… This tastes like what math feels like.”

 

Aversion to Garlic?  Keep that demon onion away from me

 

“Are you going to pay for that?”

Katsuki, mouth still stinging with pain just nyooms the fuck out of the store. The plastic flaps in front of the entrance flying out into the cool night air like tree branches.    

 

He tells Kirishima about his escapade the afternoon after. The entire story, and, after a moment of silence. Kirishima looks at him like he’d just realised the severity of this.

“What? It’s not that fucking bad-”

“Hey dude, does this mean you can’t eat garlic bread anymore?”

Oh.

OH NO.

Okay yeah, this was the worst.

 

As Katsuki slowly ticked more things off of his strange, cryptic list- it was as if he was slowly growing more and more used to being… well, dead.

There was a sort of therapeutic quality to it that had Katsuki accepting everything at face value, nothing more and nothing less. Sure, it had started off super weirdly- and he may not have taken it as seriouslyas he probably should have- but what did he expect? He was a post-millennial looking bitch ass with about five dollars and nothing but ramen in his cupboard... The only thing that changed after his ‘death’ was that he now had ten dollars because he didn’t really need to buy ramen anymore.

But that did raise another question, of course.

What did he eat?

“I’m not going to fucking go into the forest to try and bite deer, again .” Katsuki tells his roommates, “the national park is like two hours away and I’d have to take the bus…”

They’d tried it last Saturday- the group of them taking Kaminari’s car and heading over to the wilderness… It hadn’t ended quite well. Katsuki had felt really bad about killing a rabbit and he’d gotten blood everywhere.

Not only that, but even as he continued on in pursuit- he realised that his thirst hadn’t even been entirely sated. Animal blood didn’t do a whole lot for him, it was like a glass of water- lining his stomach for what was to come.

Which left him a little bit...well, screwed. If he couldn’t survive entirely on animal’s blood- what the fuck was he going to drink?

Kirishima nods in firm understanding, a thoughtful expression on his face. “But what other choices does that really give you?”

Katsuki sighs, “I don’t know…” Grumbling, he stands up, “I haven’t been like, desperately thirsty for blood or any shit like that yet but…” He looks off into the distance, trying to describe this foreign feeling, “it’s like I can feel it coming.” It was like there was something in the back of his throat, waiting to pounce at the best moment.

It was strange and ever present- but it wasn’t as intrusive as Katsuki could have imagined...

He could, however, imagine it getting a lot worse if he let it lie.

“You could be a vigilante?” Kaminari suggests from the couch, still looking at his phone.

This had been the norm for about a week now- the three of them just openly discussing how the fuck Katsuki was going to eat. “Wait outside of a shady bar and look for the creeps trying to attack people.”

Katsuki considers the idea for a moment with a decent amount of thought. “Wouldn’t technically be a creep trying to attack people though?”

“Oh fuck, I guess?”

Kirishima chimes in next, “yeah but you’re a vigilante.”

“Yeah and vigilantes are cool as shit.” Kaminari continues.

“Stop saying vigilante.” Katsuki snaps, his mind still racing with possibilities with what he was to do. That was another thing he’d noticed about his newfound powers- he was able to think a lot clearer.

However, that might just be the outcome of him being unable to mix red bull and coffee anymore.

“I don’t really know if I could fucking kill someone… No matter how shitty a person they were.” Katsuki confides, looking at his feet. The thought of having to take a human life wasn’t entirely foreign to him- he’d thought about killing people plenty of times.

Take the guy in his engineering class- for instance. The one that typed way too loudly. We fucking get it Cooper, you have a macbook.

Kaminari and Kirishima just look at him, confused- their eyebrows raised.

Kaminari speaks first, a little high pitched. “Just??? Don’t kill them?? Knock out some asshole and drink their blood??? Were you actually going to go and kill someone??”

He said it like it was obvious.

Okay maybe Katsuki wasn’t smarter in his new form.

Like, sure, he got full marks on his tests- but sometimes, when he was really tired- he forgot how to tie his shoelaces.

“Oh shit, yeah.”

 

This is what leads Katsuki into the shadiest bar in town.

The neon lights and general eighties vibe of the place would usually be the type to attract the trendsetters of the city, but the place was just that shitty that it had them turn tail in the other direction.

Katsuki really didn’t blame them- he hadn’t had the balls to go in here before either- and he walked past it every afternoon for school.

It was the kind of place that you’d go into, half expecting you wouldn’t come out.

Katsuki looks up at the flashing red sign- a third of it lit up while the other segment sparked uncontrollably. Looking up at the blaring text, which once presumably read,   ‘The Crimson Crypt,’ Katsuki takes a soft breath and enters. After all, what was the worst that could happen?  

 

It’s a typical shifty looking bar- the kind that, in movies, you’d see the protagonists go into to gather information. Katsuki could picture it now- all the hardened criminals, grasping their glasses of whisky- the jukebox that had been playing hard rock until then stops in its tracks when he walks in. The whole bar goes silent and stares at him.

That isn’t what happens.

There’s no jukebox, and no one spares him a glance when he enters (to his reluctant disappointment.)  

It’s half filled- which is rather surprising for a Wednesday night- and it continues to buzz with energy and sound as Katsuki comes through the doorway.  

The dimly lit seated areas would have been really hard for Katsuki to see if he hadn’t had like, fucking vampire vision. The lack of lighting in those corners had Katsuki wondering if it had been an intentional decision or more so a financial one.

Nevertheless, the dark corduroy booth seats were mostly filled with all kinds of characters to behold. From seedy old men smoking cigars with (disconcertingly much younger) girls on each arm- to heavily tattooed persons, cloaked in leather, sloshing their drinks onto the table and jeering.

The Crimson Crypt would not disappoint tonight.

He would just have to wait.

 

But he couldn’t just stand in the doorway like a dickhead. That screamed ‘suspicious’ from the get go.

Well, Katsuki supposed- so did everything about this shit hole but that was neither here nor there.

Fuck.

Shuffling over to the bar with a sheepish yet cranky expression, he sits on the furthest stool from anyone and just waits for something… shifty to happen. He’s not quite sure what he’s looking for- he just knows that it’s bound to happen eventually.

“Hello, Sir, what can I get for you- oh, hey, you’re that garlic guy.” A voice says from behind the counter, sounding far too light for a place like this.

Questioningly, Katsuki turns his head toward the noise.

Oh.

It was the clerk from the grocery store a few nights back.

The guy that saw Katsuki take a fucking bite out of a giant clove of garlic, shriek and then dip without paying for it.

He stands there behind the bar, drying off a glass tumbler with a towel- looking a little more awake and a little less apathetic.

He’s a bit hard to fully perceive in this light, even with Katsuki’s vampire vision. His hair was appearing far too saturated under the neon glare.

But the colour reflecting off of his pretty green eyes, alongside his pronounced freckles are vision enough for Katsuki in this trying time.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” Katsuki looks him up and down, inquisitive. He was probably about half a head shorter than Katsuki- but he made up for it with his extremely (adorably) fluffy hair.

The bartender/ store clerk looks at him, mildly insulted- but not visibly surprised. He must get it all the time.

“I’m 21, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Hmmm same age as Katsuki. It was so strange- he definitely didn’t look it. Then again, Katsuki supposed, as he continued to age without really ageing - he would eventually have the same effect. After all, you can’t really look 235.

Unless you were a bag of dust.

“So! What can I get you, garlic guy?”

Katsuki scowls, “don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, do you prefer garlic man?”

Katsuki scowls, “I prefer nothing at all.”

The other nods at him, a little bit of an apologetic smile on his cute face. “Right then...”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “what’s your name then?” He squints a little, more out of habit than anything else- looking closely at the guy’s name badge.

He tilts his head in question. That was a weird name.

“Deku?”

‘Deku’ huffs out a laugh, waving off his confusion. “I don’t use my real name here. It’s a… safety concern.”

Katsuki glances about the bar and swears he sees a dude loading up a pistol in the back corner, “I can imagine.”

The mutual silence the pair of them share is a bit of a strange one. ‘Deku’ is humming quietly to himself as he cleans glasses- he’d forgotten to ask Katsuki what he’d wanted to order after they’d gone off on a mutual tangent. Katsuki suspected they shared the same kind of intelligent dumbass brain.

Nevertheless, it was almost… Pleasant for that spare moment in the Crimson Crypt.

But that was never going to last very long.

Katsuki can see from the corner of his eye a man approaching the bar, his slovenly appearance and grisly beard instantly putting Katsuki on high alert.

“Oi, barkeep.” He slurs, holding an empty cup. He looked like the very epitome of ‘sleazy bar guy 3#’ in every movie Katsuki had seen.

Deku looks regretful to leave but obliges with a friendly, wavering smile, “yes sir? How can I help you?” His strangely happy customer service in a place like this had Katsuki thinking that he definitely hadn’t been here long- there was no way.

Katsuki thinks dimly of- not if- but when this place will chew Deku up and spit him out.

“Where’s that-” the man hiccups, “-that hot piece of ass that was here yesterday? The brunette? She on tonight?”

Deku visibly stiffens, his back muscles tensing in nervousness. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, sir.” He definitely did. There was no doubt about it.

 

Katsuki had just learnt something about this ‘Deku’ guy.

 

He was a truly awful liar.