WARNING: This story contains racially insensitive language, intense graphic violence, alcohol abuse, and psychological abuse. The story as it is written is a ROUGH DRAFT. Currently, the story is being edited.

Chapter 1: The Bar

IT WAS JUST AN ORDINARY HOT DAY in this small town in the middle of Georgia. The population here were going by their everyday lives. Nothing special about that. Me and my partner kept a cool distance from the populace, avoiding all attention. Saturday afternoons usually are pretty busy. I stopped here to get myself something to drink at a local bar, again, keeping my distance from the populace.

We returned from a hunt down in Macon. The werewolf we fought was pretty tough, gotta load off and take a break you know? After all, the type of work I do, though it pays well, can take a mighty toll on your body, psyche, and-well pretty much everything else.

I was at a table not too far from the booth. I was drunk and on the verge of headin' to sleep. Had 5 glasses of hard whiskey and still standing. Hehe, I say that it's a record on my part. The bar, well, it was not as large as the ones seen in the cities in Northern states. No. It was relatively small and grounded. Not too much going on here. Sunlight penetrates here to give off some life here instead of it being some underground bunker of some kind.

The place was populated by unwelcoming characters, some to which who could stab you in the neck and walk out to get a sandwich. Some of them were Confederate veterans, others were-well stupid and barbaric. It wasn't as chaotic as back out west, but it was still dangerous like one.

"More," I panted.

"Don't you have enough, old chap?" Abraham asked out of concern as he poured me a cup.

"The day a werewolf claw comes and claws out my soul from my body is when I had enough. Now, I'm tired and thirsty," I said.

"Pappy, you are always tired and thirsty," Abraham said, "You know Dale is..."

"Dale is a cowardice punk who sucks on his mother teet for dinner, don't start with me," I drank, "Besides, the Confederate fuck boy is nearby," I belched, "You bet your ass. Besides, he said back on the battlefield at Shiloh that he wanted me dead. Since then, I've been following his blood trail from the point of reference to down here to Macon. His tracks are marked here and I tend to seek it out before he does more damage...besides it's a hell lot of fun, wouldn't you agree?" I asked.

"Still drunk on revenge are you?" Abraham asked.

"Pfft, hell no!" I said, "The boy wanted to settle a score after I took his leg; now he wants me dead. And I say, I welcome the challenge," I said with pride.

Abraham sighed and nodded his head, "Your hubris is gonna get you killed, Paul."

"Nope, I'll be immortal, best believe that!"

As my friend Abraham went on to fetch me my new whiskey, I turned my head to the front when I heard the door open. Walking in was a very attractive young woman. She looked like she was going to a churchhouse or something. She wore her purple dress with grace, while showing a little bit of cleavage, carried a cane, and a sunhat to match. She walked timidly into the bar looking lost. I looked away knowing that this could only end in a disaster.

"Virginia?" I heard her say.

Abraham turned around towards her direction and scrunched his eyebrows, "What in the hell?" he whispered. His eyes never left her sight as he carried my drink. The piano music lowered a bit as the men in the bar gave her gravely stares.

"Virginia? - H-hello? I'm looking for...um..." she stopped midsentence. Now any normal person could have stopped, turned around and left. Why? She was a colored woman in a white man's bar in the deep south in a war-torn town. Now, yeah I may be the exception a bit...but because I heavily covered myself making sure I was not seen...or maybe because I came into the establishment first before anyone, sat in the far back...oh and I was armed...with a friend here in mind.

I knew the environment and had made plans to act accordingly in case things went south. While at first, I thought this could be me hunting down Dale, it could, in a few moments, become a situation that I have to rush in to save this poor woman.

"Who in the hell...?"

"I don't know," Pappy said, "All I know is that she is making the wrong impression just by walking in the bar.

The piano was quieting down, "She has until a few moments before the piano stops," Abraham said, "We have to..."

"Wait...maybe she will turn around and walk away," I said, "The sister's smart. She looks smart, she's not dumb enough to stay in a bar with a group of guys who want to kill just for the fun of it."

"Hello..." - and then...she made a horrible mistake.


"THE FUCK?!" I heard an angry man cry out.