The theme park in Santa Clara is abandoned. Like most of the town, all that remains is paint flaking from oxidating amusements.
“Going somewhere, pretty boy?”
Tight leather and garishly pale skin, she was another gothic princess perpetuating the entire “blackityblack” bloodsucker stereotype.
“I was just pondering if there was any reason to stay here.”
“Possibly not, in your case,” she showed fangs.
At my signal, the ActiveArmor™ burst into life. The shirt I’d been wearing like mail separated into tens of thousands of tiny scales. Each scale split into two wings, and a cloud of metallic butterflies dispersed around me.
Surprise made her hesitate, briefly.
“Cute. But do you think your bugs can save you?”
She lunged for me, claws reaching for my throat. The AA butterfly cloud descended on her as quickly as it ascended from me.
I’d requested customization from the AA sales rep for an excellent reason. Each butterfly wing features a tracery of silver conductor wiring. To a vamp, skin contact with so much silver is like showering in holy water.
“But I do want to thank you for the signal,” I replied to her charred corpse. “It’s definitely time to walk away.”
198 words. Inspired by this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt:
Fun stuff. Mixing genres is always a treat. As is hiding away “what does this crap have to do with this prompt” until the very last sentence is, too.