"Take off the shackles," Nile said in a calm voice and demeanor that did not betray his quivering insides.
"Excuse me?" the Chief Agent said, his eyes showing surprise even through the helmet he wore. He and the other three Agents had their weapons drawn and at the ready. They were facing the shackled prisoner who was sitting down.
The prisoner was a vampire. Nile didn't think he had ever been so close to one before. He felt terrified, but this was what he signed up for. He had a job to do and this was his opportunity to prove himself. This was his first vampire client. His dream of social justice would be recognized, one client at a time. He had studied the prisoner's files and found no reason to keep him shackled and sedated other than the simple fact that he was a vampire. The shackles were big, heavy, and made with silver and other materials that weakened the vampire's natural strength. They were blinking with various lights which indicated they were sending a silent impulse through the vampire's body that kept him somewhat sedated.
"I don't think you know what you're asking," the Chief Agent said with a nervous laugh.
"Sir, I have read his files. I see no reason to believe he is a threat," I said. "This man has been charged with drug related crimes. He has not been charged with murder or assault."
"He's a fucking vampire," the Chief Agent said. "A hundred and thirty years old. He could easily kill all of us in this room."
"And for what purpose? To have more Agents rush in and kill him with a few rounds of your high tech silver bullets? That would be foolish. Take his shackles off and leave the room," Nile said, determined to stand his ground. All of the Agents were taller and more muscled than he was, but he would not let them intimidate him.
"Listen to me, those things don't think like you and me," the Chief Agent said.
"That
man's
name is Arden Vorrick. He is my client. I will not have him shackled up and sedated in this room. Outside these walls, you have all the power. But this is my consultation room. This room is for me and my clients and no one else. Please remove the shackles from Mr. Vorrick and leave," Nile said.
The Agents looked at him in total disbelief. Nile stood as tall as he could, though he was only average height and the Agents towered over him. He was also aware that he was unarmed and dressed in a very expensive suit. He had neatly trimmed short black hair, brown eyes, and wore glasses. Everything about him screamed spoiled, rich, educated civilian. These Agents were not happy that he was commanding them to do anything. He was just a court counselor.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" the Chief Agent said.
"Sir, do I have to contact the judge in charge of Mr. Vorrick's case and have him remind you of my client's right to legal consultation in a private and non-threatening environment? He has not proved himself dangerous," Nile said.
The Chief was pissed. "Fine. It's your goddamn neck. Don't be surprised when the fucker drains you dry first chance he gets."
Nile stood tall and silent as the Agents surrounded the vampire. One Agent put a key into the shackles, punched in a code, and released them as the others stood by with their guns trained. The Agents backed out and the heavy door shut loud behind them (the Chief muttering something about "damn fucking liberals"). There was nothing in the room but a long table and two chairs. All gray and bolted to the floor. The walls were an off-white brick and the floors were concrete and painted gray. Bare florescent lights buzzed on the ceiling, one flickered every few seconds. There were no windows in this wing of the building because it was where they kept the vampires. Vampires were often deprived of sleep, forced to switch their day and night schedules to be more convenient for their human captors.
Nile was very aware that he was alone in a room with a vampire and that no matter what the files said, this was taking a risk. But it was one he felt necessary. He maintained his calm demeanor as he sat down in the chair across from the vampire. The vampire, Arden Vorrick, was about 6'2 (compared to Nile's 5'10), well muscled, and of course equipped with fangs and supernatural strength. He had spiked black hair with striking white streaks, blue eyes, and was dressed in the standard gray prison suit. He looked no older than his early twenties, but he was of course much older.
"Well, you're either bat shit crazy or you've got some real fucking balls," Arden said grinning, his fangs showing.
Nile kept calm and sat down. "I am simply doing my job, Mr. Vorrick. Standing up for your rights."
"Rights?" Arden said with a laugh. "Oh, you are fucking bat shit. Vampires don't have rights, you asshole. That's why I'm here."
"Some of us disagree with how unjust the Agency treats you," Nile said with a sincere frown. "We wish to change things. But big changes occur in small steps, Mr. Vorrick. We have to start somewhere."
Arden burst into laughter. "Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid? That I'm going to believe that you're here to help me just because of your little show with the shackles? Fuck you. If you aren't a lying fuck, you're a naive one. The Agency has been in power for the past fifty years, and I've seen it all. I've seen the vampires being rounded up and burnt alive. I've seen them being starved and beaten. That kind of thing still happens sometimes, you know, in those...what do they call them? Correctional Facilities? Yeah, that's a euphemism for blood farm. The only reason they don't kill us as often as they used to is because they found out that draining us has its benefits. Our blood is used to make so much of the medicine, illegal drugs, and other shit you take for granted."
Nile sighed. "Look, I know things are bad. That's why I want to help you and others like you. To keep you out of the Correctional Facilities. And eventually work to close all of those down or at the very least heavily reform them into what they are supposed to be. Facilities reserved only for the truly dangerous to be locked away from society but not abused, drained, and murdered."
Arden smirked, crossing his arms. "Big dreams." He chuckled. "But so much in your world depends on a healthy supply of vampire blood now. The Agency has power and money and craves even more. Even if you do manage to get a few of us out of prison, it won't make a difference. You're a naive idiot to think otherwise. Let me guess...you grew up some spoiled privileged dick, got sent to some liberal university, and decided to get a law degree and change the whole goddamn world, right? You talk about social justice like you know all about it. Let me tell you, Rich Dick, you don't know shit. I'll bet you've never stepped foot in a Community in your life, have you?"
Communities were more or less reservations for vampires. Underground cities or neighborhoods housed in old sewer networks. They were rampant with pollution, crime, and poverty. Only the lowest of humans went there and many ended up dead. The borders of these Communities were patrolled heavily by Agents. As long as the vampires didn't get out, they didn't much care about what went on inside. Once in a while, they'd do a raid or two to keep up appearances. To make sure the vampires, who were forced into lives of crime, still had their evil image and the Agents still looked like the good guys. Arden had been caught in such a raid.
"I...have not...but I am appalled by them. And by the way vampires are treated in general," Nile said. "I can help you. If you let me."
"You don't get it do you? You can't help me. Do you think the Agents or any judge will take you seriously? You're just a fucking token liberal. Someone to hire in order to make them look tolerant. But to keep on a tight leash," Arden said.
His words struck a chord. Nile felt his face flush with anger. "Mr. Vorrick...I'm here to help you. Now let's discuss our defense strategy." He picked up a file on the table.
