“You fucking fa—” The human started to howl, only to be cut off when Foxx sent an icy glare his way. “Fashion…criminal…” the human corrected stupidly.
Foxx hissed. “I look fucking adorable, thank you very much, you shit stain of a human.”
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!” a deep, raspy voice boomed out.
Foxx looked away from Dobson and eyed the glaring older human who was now standing in front of the platoon of cops. At least he did for a split second, before deciding to ignore him in favor of dragging the humans fully inside the building, because it was fucking cold out.
Harlow let the door swing shut, seemingly choosing to ignore the man as well.
“I ASKED A FUCKING QUESTION!”
Foxx eyed the man, doing a sweep down from his bald head, over the no doubt useless uniform he wore, to the tips of his shiny fucking shoes and then back up, his gaze settling on his badge. Ahh, the Chief of Police had come out to greet them…how convenient. Just the waste of space wanker they needed to talk to.
“So, you're bad at your job, AND you lack basic comprehension skills.” Foxx tsked. “How DO you function day to day??”
“EXCUSE ME?!” the human bellowed. It seemed that was the only way he could communicate…yelling.
Harlow chuckled. “Aww, be nice, Foxx! Maybe he’s just hard of hearing? Though, if need be, I can dumb it down for him.”
“Oh, let me.” Foxx giggled. “We hunters. You cops. You no do job, so we, hunters, did for you.”
The officer’s face turned redder somehow. “Y-you,” he sputtered.
“I think he’s broken,” Foxx whispered loudly.
“Nah, I think this is likely just normal,” Harlow said, sounding bored. “Well, boys, we can’t stand here all day. And these fuckers need to be transported to the nearest Guild. A job you all won’t get out of, by the way, as much as I’m sure you want to.”
“You should watch your tone, boys,” the man blustered, before adjusting his badge. “Be fully aware that you are speaking to Bolin’s Chief of Police, Barney Down.”
Foxx whispered again to Harlow, “Is that supposed to impress us?”
“I think so,” the man replied normally with a smirk.
“Enough of this nonsense!” Barney bellowed. “Who are you, and what right do you have to come into our city and put your hands on our citizens?!”
The humor he’d felt moments before seeped away upon remembering all that this bastard had let happen, just because the victims weren’t equal in his human eyes.
“What right did you have, sitting back on your ass, doing nothing, while assaults, arson, and various other criminal activities were reported to you? Or are vampires living in this trash heap of a town not citizens in your eyes, Mr. Chief of Police?”
“We follow every creditable report. WE know our jobs,” Barney defended.
The men behind him chose that moment to finally say something, and it was just to yell vaguely in support—the fucking twats.
“If you know your job so damn well, then maybe you all should have fucking done it!” Harlow roared.
The gallery of clowns went back to being silent as the Chief flinched. “We did?—”
“Less than nothing,” Foxx hissed. “Why lie when the paper trail is easy to find? It has been found, by the way.”
Barney’s mouth snapped shut as he paled.
He chuckled darkly. “Ahh, you finally realized. That for us to be here, it means others much further up the line know as well. Took you long enough to figure that out, didn’t it, oh mighty Chief of Police of Bolin, Missouri.”
“Yeah, plenty of other people know. Well, until that bullshit of your own making comes to fuck you in the ass, unlucky for you?—”
The clock on the wall caught Foxx’s attention, and he cut Harlow off. “Can we hurry this up? As fun as it is to mind fuck these guys, I have somewhere to be!”
Oh, he was so glad he saw the time! Foxx had almost forgotten about his plans tonight! Well, he hadn’t forgotten, just Harlow’s mood and the drive had pushed it from his mind.
