Not far from the university main campus, yellow tape sectioned off a small alleyway. A barrier pulsed the area as well, an added precaution to preserve any supernatural evidence. If anyone, or anything were to break through, the Hunter's Association would be notified immediately.
But currently there was no one at the scene, not even a lone hunter combing the alley for any signs or leads. It wasn't until nightfall that a lone figure strolled in past the barrier that protected the alleyway.
He had dark brown hair that fell around his face in gentle waves, reaching just above his shoulders. It was tied back in a neat ponytail, to keep it out of his face as he worked. A beige trench coat lay atop his tall figure, his hands hidden within deep pockets.
The man walked right up to the corpse slouched against a filthy brick wall, propped up by a heap of trash that led into the kitchen of a rundown sushi place. The body was of a drug addict whose memory and name would not be missed, even among his family and peers. His skin was a ghastly grey, two puncture wounds on the neck where all the blood had been drained.
The man leaned in and sniffed at the wound, his face pulling from the sharp smell of rotting corpse and corrupted blood.
This was a vampire attack alright. More alarming was the fact that the dealer's prostitute friend who was supposedly with him was missing.
The man looked around the small alley. There were some splatters of blood along the walls that caught his attention. Leaning in, he sampled the scent. Ah, it was definitely the blood of a female human being. If this had been the work of one corrupted blood, they must have been gorging themselves on food. Which could be an issue if not dealt with quickly.
The man hummed, running his chin in thought. Just as he was about to leave the scene, the barrier flickered as another person joined him at the crime scene.
The man looked up, recognizing the features of the one who sauntered towards him, "Graham Astley."
"That is I."
With a nod, he introduced himself and offered his hand, "Franz von Hatzfeld, servant of Master Iszak Bathory of the Megtorlas Clan."
Graham eagerly reached out and shook the hand presented to him. The Megtorlas Clan was one of the three major vampire clans in the world, and while New Lidway City was far from their home base, they had staked their claim.
"I will be taking this case," Graham supplied. "You needn't worry here."
Franz's eyes widened. He had heard that his lord pushed off some of the cases to the Hunter's Association. Which was nice. Frankly, he had been overwhelmed by all the pranks neighboring clans, big and small, trying to harass Lord Bathory, the sole noble blood guardian of New Lidway City.
"Thank you," Franz sighed, running his hand through his hair, "In all honesty, I didn't think anyone would bother picking this one up. I heard that it's pretty low priority in the Association's eyes."
"Is there anything in particular I ought to be aware of?"
"I don't know if you've been informed but these trivial corrupted blood cases have been escalating in the city. They are not very difficult to deal with but they are many. My Master is inclined to believe that these incidents might be related. So if you are somehow able to identify this corrupted blood's sire, that would be most helpful," Franz explained.
"I see," Graham nodded. Trifles between vampire clans could be petty and ridiculous at times, but if the scuffles escalated in scale, it would cause a major issue. Noble bloods that created corrupted bloods on the whim posed a serious threat to humanity and the Association wouldn't think twice about culling such an individual.
"And what information do you have pertaining to this case?" Graham looked down at the addict slouched in the alleyway, painting the classic scene of a young vampire's eager attack. Judging from the choice of victims and times of the attacks, Graham could surmise that the vampire perpetrator in question still maintained a good amount of reasoning.
"Nothing particularly of interest," Franz hummed. "It appears to be a young corrupted blood trying to sate their blood thirst. The victims thus far have been a slew of homeless folk and criminals, it appears that their mental faculties remain intact. Though the volume of victims is a little concerning. This vampire seems to be stocking prey as well."
"I see."
Vampires fell into predominantly two categories. There were the noble bloods who were the purebred stock of the vampiric race, haughty and pompous in their centuries-old culture.
Then there was the pathetic wreck of corrupted bloods, those that were turned by the whims of rash or malicious noble bloods. Their existence was precarious, unstable and dangerous, especially at birth. They were akin to rabid, unhinged dogs, ready to maul down anything that had a pulse.
"Once again, thank you for taking this from our hands. It does mean a lot to me," Franz sighed, bowing low to emphasize his sincerity. "I've much to attend to since my Lord refuses to employ more servants. It is truly an issue."
"Iszak has not changed."
Franz's eye twinkled with a flicker of interest, "Are you acquainted with my Master?"
"Only in passing. Though it has been centuries since we've last met in person. He has always struck me as a person with a whimsical personality." Graham knelt by the corpse, seeing if there were any other additional clues to come by.
Meanwhile, Franz had long forgotten about the case, now that it was out of his hands. "Ah, that must have been before my time. To think he was the same four hundred years ago does give me great concern."
The vampire clicked his tongue and shook his head, "Alas, I will not divulge my personal gripes towards my Master and leave you to your work. Good night to you, Lord Astley."
If Franz had stayed even a second longer he would have been graced with a sharp reply, "You already have." But since he had disappeared in a wisp of black smoke, Graham was left alone with a witty remark that died on the tip of his tongue. Oh well, he supposed it wasn't really the time and place.
Graham resumed his investigation.
…
Han Li found himself caught in a breathless whirlwind.
Procrastination was the literal devil and he only realized belatedly that it was never wise to get tangled in its poisonous maw.
And yet, Han Li had somehow survived. His projects were all done, handed in with varying degrees of success and satisfaction. While the impending doom of group critiques still haunted him from a distance, he was momentarily free without any looming deadlines around the horizon.
The world was slowly coming back into focus, reminding him of things that existed outside the walls of his university campus and the evil art studios he started calling home.
And it was precisely this moment that Graham was waiting for, attacking Han Li when his defenses were low.
Han Li had been happily basking in the afternoon sun out in the courtyard, due to meet Kevin after his elective. He was enjoying his little bit of solitude.
That was until a shadow cascaded over his face, stealing away the pleasant warmth of the sun.
Han Li didn't even need to open his eyes to know the identity of the person who so brazenly invaded his personal space. "What do you want?" he asked without any bite.
"Are you well-rested?" The sunlight glowing behind Graham seemed to warp into a glowing halo, a curious contrast to the ugly janitor uniform that he donned.
"No," Han Li lied, "As you can see, I'm still in the midst of recovering from my harrowing affair with project deadlines."
"I can see that," Graham nodded, "next time, it will do you well to manage your time more efficiently."
Han Li rolled his eyes, slowly sitting up. "Geez, tell me something I didn't know, mom."
"I'm not your mother—"
"So what are you doing here? Finally coming to harass me now that my projects are over and done with?"
Graham didn't even try to hide the fact. "Precisely." He reached into his shirt and pulled a familiar-looking folder. "Please take a look at this and consider the benefits of taking on this job. Currently, there is no one willing to take up this case and it is within reasonable geographical proximity to your campus."
The offensive folder was being shoved in his face, making Han Li grimace. "I was wondering when you'd show me that annoying thing." He pushed it away.
Graham pushed back. "Please consider it."
"You already know that I won't."
"Then I am begging you."
Han Li rolled his eyes, "Please. Just how far are you going to go with this shtick anyways? Don't you know how to give up?"
"I don't give up, Han Li," Graham said with that dangerously low tone of his, "If you so wish then very well, I will show you just how far I am willing to go."
"Uh—"
Whoops, maybe Han Li shouldn't have said that. He watched in a daze as Graham left.
The folder remained at his side, wind flicking its plastic edges as it tickled Han Li's leg in reminder.
Reluctantly, he scooped it up in his arms.