Chap1: Room # 337

Like most people with enough intellect to walk and breathe I have always wondered about my own existence, my purpose, and sometimes even the purpose of others. We are born into a species that tells us we are special, a world that lets us believe we are unique, when in reality we are the world's crap. As the only species to know of our own mortality we still do not understand what it means to be "mortal".

I once crushed a bug and felt sorry about it to the point I almost cried, but then I realized everything with a beginning also has an end. This is why vampires fear death even more then we. They fear it because they can not see an end, because they with their immortality do not have to live with death in plane sight. -Tyler

I am a hit-man, assassin, mercenary, head hunter, vampire slayer, and my personal favorite to be referred as bounty hunter. My philosophy on life is simple. I believe hell is better then non-existence so I spend my life doing horrible things while getting paid handsomely for it, so if there isn't a hell someone will be sure to make one for me. As a bounty hunter I get paid to do strange and horrible things to people like the main stream castration of a man who fucked my employers wife, or collecting my marks teeth in a zip lock bag after bashing them out of his mouth all over the concrete ground, so that my employer can compare them to his dental records. My favorite one of all is when I was ordered to tattoo swastikas all over the face of a political enemy of my employer. Sometimes they wanted them dead, sometimes alive, or sometimes they just want me to make them beg for death and catch it all on camera as a home video to watch with the kids.
I became damn good at this job and after awhile I started to get employed for the really complicated jobs. See, the thing about hunting a vampire is most of the things on television and other modern ways of communication miss inform us of their weaknesses. A vampire can only be killed by decapitation, direct exposure to sun light, and fire which kills everything. So this makes hunting a vampire relatively simple. Just track the vampire to his/her/its coffin during the day of course open the coffin quickly stake the creature in the heart, this stuns the creature keeping it in place, then take its head. I have also been known to drag a coffin out of its hiding place and open it in the sun light which burns the vampire to a sunder. Yeah, I became pretty good at killing these immortals, which I guess is what put me in such ill graces with them.

Hunting a vampire at night is a job for morons, immortals, or mortal gods. Which am I? -Tyler

Sometimes my employer sends me after a vamp and it ends up being a lycan, or as they are more commonly referred to werewolves, which is why I carry my silver spewing hand cannon with me. Lycans can be killed by being pierced by silver, extreme harm to a vital organ such as the heart or the brain, decapitation, or fire which kills everything. When I am hired to kill a werewolf it is my employer hiring me to assist in his suicide (Most of the time). If this is the case, I am paid in all of the employer's possessions. See lycanthropy supposedly causes the souls of the werewolf's victims to become bonded to the physical plane, not allowing them to ever be free, causing them to haunt the lycan till he begs for death. The spirits of the victims drive the human side of the werewolf insane with guilt and the lust of their own death, with their mindless babble of tragedies to come. No one knows if these spirits are real, but everyone knows that all lycans at the early stages of their transformation, after killing a person or two, sees them. Some werewolves learn to live with these "ghosts" or have just killed so many they do not even notice them anymore. These lycans join a pack as a Beta wolf and follow a pack leader the Alpha wolf.

Vampires are usually rogue creatures, but at some point in a vampires old age he/she grows lonely and longs for company choosing someone who would not only make a good vampire, but someone very modern. So this new vampire does not only become company, but company that keeps the older vampire modern, which helps him/her to survive. Vampires must keep up with the times -Tyler

I am a 21 year old no name bounty hunter and everyday murderer for hire, Veation Omit. This story isn't only about me, but also my marks and other hunters of my caliber.
It all starts off with me hunting a mark in Paris, France. A Lycan whose human name was, David Nobie. My employer was a very angry mafia father. Seems this werewolf crossed the wrong cats and would have to be put down and I was the man that had to do it. I tracked the werewolf to his apartment entering into the "living-room" through the doors marked 337, pistol drown. The lights were dimmed enough to make the room eerie, but lightened enough for me to see everything. I slowly walked into the kitchen to find my mark kneeling on the tile floor. His eyes caught and reflected light making pale moon shapes, which reminded me of a stray dog at night. He looked at me and began to howl while his body swelled and filled with his true form. Rabidly he ripped off a chunk of his own flesh from his chest onto the floor reviling under it a chest covered in fur. He continued this until only a patch of human skin remand, which was his human face. Once that was cased onto the floor his huge true lycan form was revealed. He came at me in a fertile rage slashing at my clothes till I pulled my ready trigger finger back. The bullet was launched into his chest. Realizing the bullet was silver the wolf ran through the door marked 337 into the hall way of the apartment building out the hallway window onto the fire exit. I let him get a running start lighting a cigarette and aiming through the window. With a pull of the trigger a silver bullet sped through the lycan's head putting him down for good. As I stood over his ruin of a corpse I could not help but think, His name was David Nobie and he lived in apartment room 337.
I booked a room in the same apartment building, room 347. There I unpacked my luggage which consisted of customized rounds of silver bullets, my custom maruzen P99, my P14-45, gun cleaning tools, hooked decapitation dagger, stainless steel stakes, a shot glass, a cell phone, and a flask with a bit of gin and tonic in it. So like I always did after taking a name I began to clean my P99 while sipping on gin and letting the intoxication of drunkenness take over. After the entirety of the flask was empty and my thought flew around things like "what if", and my P99 was so clean that I could see my likeness in its reflection, I blacked out.

You work your fucking ass off and for what so that your children can also work their asses off. Then there are the select few of us that truly try to justify our existence, but even spending our entire lives trying to find a reason we come up short handed with out an "answer". Damned is what we are. -Tyler

Slowly I began to sober finding myself riding in the back of a limousine with two blurry figures dressed in black in front of me, one was driving the other sat in the passenger seat. I drew my 45 pocking it through the window that connected the back to the driver's seat. It really did not matter how intoxicated I was. I am always a brain surgeon as long as I had a pistol in hand. I made sure to press the barrel of my gun hard against the passenger's temple making sure to bestow some since of fear. I yelled telling the driver to pull over, or his friend's brains would be sitting in a soup like mess all over the dashboard. There was a moment of silence and then the driver spoke.

"No need for that human. We do not have the intent to murder your insignificant mortal life yet. The vampire elder Lodemai wants a word with you. So put your useless weapon up and save the silver for the lycans."

The only word which could have possibly described the first thought that ran through my head was "SHEET". The word is like shit except I use shit for an ankle deep pile of feces. This was me consumed up to my shin in a massive heap of my own droppings. I was sitting in the back of a limousine that was being driven by two vampires and at night of all times possible in a 24 hour day. I thought to myself gulping down my entire pride and ego in one swallow. I wished for another child's security blanket to be pulled over my head. There was no way for me to make it out of that. My fate belonged to my drivers and whoever this Lodemai might be.
I pulled a cigarette from my pocket thinking the vamps would not mind. I mean they are dead anyway or undead to be exact. My arm pushed through the small window again offering the vamps a possible cigarette. They both declined to my offer.

Hunting a vampire at night is a job for morons, immortals, or mortal gods. Which am I? -Tyler

I suppose I must have drifted off, or possibly I was drugged to sleep to keep the location of were I was taken a secret. From what I could tell this was an underground haven for the undead holding maybe two dozen or more vamps. As I was forced to walk stares of which I could not return, through the dark, burrowed into me. The darkness slapped my skin crawling. The old and damp air forced my hairs to stand. Cold boney hands clamped against the back of my neck forcing me to sit in a stone chair by a stone table which was lighten by candle light.
The light revealed the faces of other men, or other bounty hunters (for those who want to get technical). At least ten of them sat around the stone carved table. All were notable or known, some more notable then others.
The first notable face I recognized was a scarred senior member of the once infamous assassin group known only as "the begotten". This young, skinny, black stringy haired man only went by the name Donavon. I did not know much of him since he has no historic records. Donavon clamed to be the deadliest sniper ever to work as an assassin for hire, which many would have vouch to be true. A few misplaced scars gave him a stripped tiger type appearance, which many would also say he used for stalking his prey.
Another notable head hunter was a man known as Pyro, which I easily recognized by the black plastic fire proof mask which he wore to cover his whole face. The same plastic also covered him completely as a protective body suit. Yeah, his name is by far the corniest of any assassin and his wardrobe was also pretty stupid, but this guy was no joke. When you hired Pyro you did not only hire a extra gun, but you hired a ex-marine, a man with at least 30 years of military training and experience, the master weapon smith of all creative fantasy like fire arms, a man who specializes in every gun on the open market not to mention every custom weapon he has created himself and then some, a guarantee that whoever you wanted dead would be charcoal black or blown into enough pieces for fish bait, and no guarantee that he could bring his mark back alive, but of course he would "try". He is the one who created my motto "fire kills everything" since his favorite custom was his hand held flame thrower.
Now the most, notable man, bounty hunter, straight up born killer was Tyler once leader of the now no longer existing "the begotten". There were no legends behind this man. When people said he killed 30 men because one of their children looked at him wrong you believed it. When a half smiling fuck tard of a man tells you Tyler just wiped out the entire population of Ethiopia you believed it. When Tyler pointed into your face and told you, you were going to die and he was going to kill you, you believed it no questions asked. He is said to be a master of Judo, Jeet Kune Do, Tai Kwan Do, Kickboxing, and Samurai sword even though I am sure he did not practice any of their principles. His favorite out of the five by far was the Samurai sword which he used to kill opponents in one easy stroke and if not in one then very few. You were considered lucky to survive the first. His eyes were brown. His hair was short and messy; the color of it was a muddy blonde.

I am nothing special compared to anyone else. I am the same crap of the world, just from a different toilet. I was just put here on this Earth with a different purpose, a pointless and meaningless purpose at that, but nonetheless a purpose. -Tyler

From the darkness emerged a beautiful and wondrous figure. Her hair was black, her eyes a strange silver/blue, her skin a pale snow white, and on her forehead lay angelic or maybe demonic markings, whatever your perception might have been of them. She wore a chain about her neck and a vial of red liquid hung from it. Her physical appearance gave the impression of a young woman in her late teens or very early twenties, but the mood that was about her was multiple hundreds of years old.
One of the vampires peered out of the darkness and said.

"Look upon her mortals. You stare into the eyes of one you could not understand and one who understands all. You look upon one of the elder gods of the Nosferatu, Lodemai."