[milo] All The Trouble I've Seen

[jackie damiano piazza]

I have to say this: I was surprised when I read the news the other day.

Usually, I just flick through the recycled newspaper pages, licking my fingertips and scanning it with disinterest. Just something to do while I waited for the bus. The world worried itself about such trivial things. Murders and rapes always seemed to be on the headlines but isn't the world always like that? Terrible things happen without fail every week but every single time something happens, it's a scandal and people with lesser minds go on the witch hunt.

As I was saying. I read the news as I had been doing almost every day but, this time, with a rapt interest. Murders. But not just any murders. Violently orchestrated ones with gore and so much pain and trauma behind them. For a week straight, whoever the killer was attacked. At the beginning, the murderer didn't get much TV time or paper cover - it was just another killing in a city across the ocean. But it happened again and again and again and soon it was all I read in the newspaper. It was like reading a novel where a new chapter came out every day. I had to give kudos to the reporters and inspectors... they did such a good job of snooping into every detail of the killed's lives and pouring it onto paper for simple men like myself to read.

And, today, I was very surprised to see that the serial killer in question was that boy I once saw down at my place of work. None other than Milo Lark.

And it doesn't stop there either.

Fate, wondrous fate, is a beautiful and unpredictable mistress, I'll just say that. Later, she lined me up to meet another vampire - not a born biter like myself but instead a siren hybrid - and, well, what can I say? Words were exchanged, opinions and drinks as well. And by the end of the night, I'd bagged myself a job that was more better suited for my talents and one that had a nice, fat pay check to go with it.

When I woke up that day, the last thing I'd expected was to become Milo Lark's defense by the end of it.

I've never had the pleasure or misfortune of being thrown in one of Lex Coercitor's jail cells - I'm careful, you see - but the place didn't appear too shabby. It was clean, cold and stark, but still not a bad place compared to some prisons I've seen throughout the years. Getting through to the underground level which faintly buzzed with protective charms was easy enough. One of the Enforcers took my details and escorted me down to the lower floor without any trouble.

I was half hoping I could catch a glimpse of a certain faerie that they'd taken on as a trainee. What I'd give to see his face should he see me here. The thought of it alone had a smile, or a smirk, curving my lips as I strolled down the long corridor to Milo's cell.

My shoes, polished and shining under the painfully white, sterile lighting, clicked against the unspotted floor as I walked, echoing slightly off the walls. It felt good to be back in a suit. The way I could feel the navy tie snugly knotted under the ironed collar of my shirt was comfortable and familiar. My suit jacket was straight on the shoulders, not lumpy and bumpy like just any cheap jacket fools bought on a whim from a shop. My suits were tailored to fit my broad shoulders, slimmer waist and stocky legs and to not have me looking more like a cheap, second-hand car vendor.

"Milo Lark?" I rumbled as I neared his designated cell. I'd be telling you fibs if I said there wasn't any excitement gnawing at my stomach. I was about to see the murderer that'd hacked away just over a dozen humans in the space of a week shortly after meeting him for the first time. He had the face of a tired whore, not a killer. I was, you could say, curious to see if that youthful yet weathered face of his had changed any.



ooc;; I hope this is okay. It's tagged just Milo for now but I suppose it's open for any other characters you might need in here.

[Milo Dakota Lark]

Aaisha had bounced in the night before, full of energy and optimism - a freaking beacon in the dank lighting of the prison. . They'd found and hired a lawyer, she told him. A real smooth talker, all about vampire rights and such. Milo was still slightly guarded, afraid to hope for a good outcome, but really wanting to. For once in his damn life, he really wanted to live.

She'd told him to expect Mr. Piazza (Milo totally thought it was Mr. Pizza at first and started laughing) around midday today, but it wasn't like he had a watch on him. He was actually pretty grateful that there were no clocks in his sight. It might have driven him crazy. This way, he could ignore the glacial passage of time, focus on the menial tasks and habits he used to keep himself distracted. He jacked off a lot - Aaisha had brought him a few magazines. And he spent a fair amount of time mouthing off to the enforcers. Themis had brought him some books, and he read those when he was desperate enough. Mostly, though, he just kept moving.

So when his new lawyer showed up, Milo was doing what he spent a good third of his time doing: exercising. It was funny, because the only time he ever did was when he was incarcerated. His first time in juvie, Milo had given all of the buff, bench-press-addicts an incredulous look. One of them told him, "Give it a week. You'll get it." And sure enough, within a week he was just about crawling out of his skin with the urge to move, to get out of his head and into his body. At that point, it had just been laps around the yard, something to get his blood moving. Then he went into solitary for the first time, and the only advice he got was, "Exercise a lot, and the voices usually aren't real."

Long story short, he was actually starting to get a bit more buff, bigger in the chest and arms. It wasn't saying too much - Milo had been scrawny when he went in. So there he was, doing pull-ups from a pipe in the ceiling of the cell, his shirt a sweat rag by this point. He wouldn't get another clean one for a day and a half. He dropped to the floor when he heard the man approach, though, and his eyes bugged out of his head a bit.

He knew this dude. Jackie, the bartender that had scared the everliving Christ out of him just before he went to New York. He wanted to ask what he was doing there, if this was a joke. Instead, Milo just blurted out, "But you're a bartender!" Immediately he went red in the face, able to blush now that he was actually eating the blood the enforcers gave him. Milo snatched his shirt off the ground and furiously rubbed at his face with it, a feeble and pointless attempt at looking more presentable. "I mean...I'm just surprised is...you're really a lawyer?"

If he was, Milo might just have a shot. This dude was serious business. In any case, he was better than one of the shitty-ass publicdefenders the boy was used to.