Hello, FictionPress readers. I do hope you enjoy this rather unusual vampire tale. Feel free to criticize as you must and this is a relatively flexible tale so throw in requested scenes as dark as they get. After all, they are bending the law, no? Btw, I promise to update this one frequently.

The aching remorse and the piercing guilt of ripping the life from a foolish young woman was absent from Zander's cold consciousness. Did it leave him feeling hollow and wicked? Empty and heartless? Not at all. It left him with a thrill and a rush through his black veins.

There were numerous places on the woman that Zander could have drank from, but he preferred to classically sink his fangs into her dainty throat. The process was not near as tidy as modern media and story books portrayed it though. Zander was taken over by the animalistic instincts that possessed all vampires, whether they were Vampist or Vampiran, ripping away the flesh of the woman's neck. Blood splattered all over the black and white carpet. Veins and vessels of the woman's throat were fully explosed and partially shredded.

Already, Zander had forgotten her name. It hardly mattered because she wasn't any different from the rest. Unusual colors in her hair, black clothing from head to toe, fish nets draping nearly every corner of her body, and the restless desire to have a vampire boyfriend. It amused him how the media painted a picture of incredibly attractive, sparkling, emotionally disturbed vampires. It was partially insulting but he hardly minded-it brought him easy meals. It hadn't been an hour since he met this woman that already he'd drained her.

He licked the last bit of blood off of the carpet, while his animalistic nature slowly died away. Zander pulled himself onto the red sofa on which all this had started and lounged about. He closed his eyes to experience the incredible rush in darkness. He could feel the warm substance in his stomach converting to black and fueling his own veins. It was purely exilharating. This was the life of luxury.

"How could you!?"

A voice ripped him away from his relaxation. He turned to see a tall slender man with a mop of jet-black hair. The pale skinned man wore a disheveled olive green suit and black tie.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean these carpets?" the man demanded.

Zanders snickers were like hisses. "Don't know, don't care."

The man stepped over the carcass and proceeded from the television room to the open kitchen and bar. "Well, you are soon to learn. You're cleaning this mess up. And take that body elsewhere."

"Make me."

The man gave him a look that let him know how purely ridiculous he sounded and pressed the button on his earpiece. "Hello, Council of Vampiran Affairs, this is Nightshade of Region-"

Zander hopped to his feet and raised his hands out in defense. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lionel, take it easy."

Lionel dropped his hands to his side, approaching his refridgerator. "Someday, hopefully you'll learn that I'm risking my job and my neck for you letting you crash here and maybe you'd feel slightly more inclined to take care of your messes."

"Huh, yeah. That'll happen," mumbled Lionel as he slung the mangled body over his shoulder. He approached the door casually, under little strain. "I'll be back."

-/-

Alone in his blood stained home, Lionel stirred the red powder into a tall glass of water and recoiled in discuss from his living room's stench. Though he was now a vampire, more specifically Vampiran, he was still struck with the overwhelming nausea at the smell of blood that he experienced in his thirty human years. So instead of constantly preying on humans, he poured supplements that replaced his blood needs into his glass everyday. At least once a month though, he had to have the real thing or he couldn't survive. One spell of nausea in a month compared to three a day was far easier to cope with.

The slum of a Vampist he invited into his home was a criminal. A serial killer with a huge gluttony issue. It violated everything in the Nightshade oath Lionel had taken years after his changing to house such a felon. He hardly cared though. The crook supplied him with useful information of the vicious Vampists' activities which saved him a lot of time as a Vampiran law officer.

The difference between Vampiran and Vampists?

Vampiran were supposedly "civilized." Meaning, they lived beneath a strict code of laws on how they fed and how often. To cope, many adapted to supplements with weekly feedings. The advantages to being Vampiran was that they were protected by the Council of Vampiran Affairs and also recieved a list of civil rights. Vampirans actually recieved trials for their crimes rather than Vampists who were immediately drained and discarded.

Vampists were supposedly "savages." That was strictly the Vampiran's view of them, at least. Vampists were simply vampires that chose not to be dictated by laws or recieve a set of rights and protection. Some were as savage as Zander and others behaved quite civilly.

Lastly, Nightshades were Vampiran law officers that recieved a single region to make certain Vampirans adhered to the law and report any Vampists not bothering to remain hidden. Zander fit the bill. He openly discussed with women what he truly was. Lionel could only imagine what all Zander had informed miscellaneous women on vampire life. But Zander was valuable nontheless.

Lionel's head spun. The odor from the rug was becoming unbearable. Lionel exited the kitchen and settled on drinking his glass in his bedroom instead. The synthetic substance did not taste as good as blood. At the same time it didn't smell as bad as it either. It might as well have been metallic chalk dissolved in water. Regardless, Lionel was always eager to finish off his daily dosage and distract himself from the aftertaste. His most common method was all the he had time left to do after work-sleep.

Once the last drop was swallowed, Lionel undressed into comfortable sleeping attire and became dead to the world in the dark coma vampires entered to rejuvenate their systems.

-/-

The Ripper. The name haunted Zekiah. A vampire mad with gluttony that fed not only on red blood, but black as well. And at least five times the normal amount of blood. For a vampire assassin Silencer, it was a chilling name. The Ripper had never been caught but his blood trail was never ending. Somehow, the increased blood intake enabled him to run inhumanly fast and escape one's sight as soon as entering.

Zekiah's hand tightly gripped the hilt of his sword. It sickened him to think of how many lives were on the Ripper's criminal record. And still he would feed. The silver haired assassin turned to his dark skinned partner, a deep scowl forming on his brow and lips.

"Why don't we have a location yet?" Zekiah demanded.

The gunslinging, dark-skinned woman shrugged, "How should I know? Oh right, I do-'cause the freak's too fast!"

Zekiah growled, "There has too be a pattern."

"There ain't."

"Then give me a case we can work on, Shayna," snapped the Silencer.

She shrugged, "Gree says he's cutting open another girl with a ripped throat."

"Ripped," Zekiah echoed.

"Not that kinda Ripped. I mean like tore open."

Zekiah restrained an exasperated sigh. "I know what you meant, I just can't get the Ripper out of my head. But I'm well aware of who killed Greidous's latest patient."

"Care to share?" Shayna cocked a brow at him.

He simply shook his head. "Private case. See yourself to bed, Shayna."

"Like I was gonna ask for your help?" she cracked, waving him away dismissively.

Zekiah rolled his eyes at his flippant partner and proceeded down the hall outside the analysis room. He was going to have a serious talk with an nuisance Nightshade, and he was not in the mood for Shayna's remarks. She never had ill intent but that hardly meant he wasn't irritated by it. As he left the spiraling tower of Nightsever, the Vampire Assassination Unit, he looked out at the night sky with his midnight blue eyes. The night was his element. He himself resembled the night with his moonlight silver hair, dark eyes, and cloak, but it was this environment he could disappear in and strike from nowhere.

Stealth, however, was not the objective of this mission. Invoking fear into the black heart of Lionel Grant was, though. Generally, that wasn't a difficult task for Zekiah, but Lionel was a unique kind of indifferent to the world. He wasn't intimidated, and he never cared particularly for... anything. He was a prime example of a hollow, bloodsucking shell.

If it weren't for the treaty between Nightsever and the CVA, Zekiah would have exterminated every vampire he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, now with such a huge vampire population, Silencers, Seekers, and Seers all had to have "just cause" to kill a vampire. Was the fact that they fed off a human life not justification enough?

-/-

Zander strolled back to Lionel's impressively sizeable house, without a care for his loose blood splattered shirt. With the art of the present, it blended in perfectly. He had little to worry over. He entered his "crash site" and paused.

"Lionel?"

Recieving no answer, a smirk grew on his face. "Say nothing if you don't want me to clean the carpet!"

Yet again, there was silence. Zander pounced on the couch and sprawled out in one of his numerous unusual sleeping positions. After a long time of staying in that position, his eyes flew open. Should he be concerned that Lionel wasn't answering? After all, the Nightshade was the only reason why Zander was drained with his head on a stake.

To make certain his once chance of survival wasn't hanging by his foot draining, Zander crept toward Lionel's bedroom. Cracking the door open he saw messy bed sheets and a slightly open window. So Lionel had snuck out... of his own home? As he made note of the clothing strewn about the floor, Zander added-half naked?

Taking a moment to consider going after his protector, Zander yawned and retreated to his favorite couch. Lionel would reappear eventually. He always did. Whether he had to sew an arm back on like once before or heal his slit throat, Lionel always returned relatively in one piece.

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