Yo! It's Hamtaro!
Sorry for the delay, but I sorta got lost in the road of life.
More seriously though, I did keep up with my writing, so we got an 8 chapters reserve, amma get it up to +10 chaps just to be safe.
I hope you'll like it, do leave a comment, drop a couple stones like the distinguished gentlemen you are, and more importantly, have a pleasant day.
Chaps is 2100 words long.
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Vampire Rule N°13: Only eat people when it's on your terms, a stranger asking to be bitten is as much a trap as Astolfo.
… … … … … … …
A few days ago he was walking around the streets with Bubbles, being told tall tales about Hungry's crew and how they won their corners with lead and violence.
Now he stood in his crackhouse surrounded by their ill-gotten money, Hungry's crew bleeding and most likely getting arrested after the single worst night of their gangster careers.
But tonight wasn't over. He had more work to do.
John locked up his spoils and left the apartment, disappearing into the night like the monster he truly was, and not a constipated discoball looking for his soul mate.
The first gang had been a challenge, but he wasn't one to back down. If anything, the success of his first raid had only fueled his hunger for more. He moved swiftly, his senses heightened as he made his way to the next target.
The possibility of encountering the bat was still keeping him on edge, but it might be a good thing, it kept him on his toes and honed his perception.
The second gang John had in mind was holed up in a gentleman on the south side, a place that was known for its flashy lights and thumping bass. But beneath the surface, it was just as dirty as the rest of Brideshead. The gang used the place as their base of operations, with a stash hidden somewhere in the back.
John slipped into the alley behind the bar, listening to the muffled music and the occasional shout from a bouncer. He could hear the voices of a few gangbangers near the back door, talking and laughing, completely unaware that they were being watched.
"Man, I tell ya, the boss is paranoid as hell," one of them said, taking a drag from his cigarette. "He's been jumpy all night, like he's expecting someone to come bustin' through the door."
"Can you blame him?" another replied. "Heard some freak took out Hungry's crew earlier. We're talkin' the whole stash, gone, just like that."
"No way, man. That's just some bullsh*t to scare us. Ain't nobody crazy enough to hit us here. This place is locked down tight."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, who'd be stupid enough to mess with us?"
John couldn't help but smirk as he listened to their banter. The irony was too good. He crept closer, staying out of sight as he moved along the wall. The door was just ahead, slightly ajar, and the two thugs were standing right next to it. He picked up a small pebble from the ground and tossed it down the alley, causing it to clatter against a dumpster.
The sound was enough to make the thugs jump. They both turned in the direction of the noise, their hands moving toward their weapons.
"What the hell was that?"
"Probably just a rat or somethin'. This place is full of 'em."
"Well, go check it out. I'm not takin' any chances."
The first thug reluctantly moved toward the sound, his gun at the ready. John waited until the man was a few steps away from the door before he made his move. He darted forward, silent and quick, grabbing the second thug from behind and clamping a hand over his mouth. The man struggled, but John's grip was ironclad. He dragged him into the shadows, knocking him out with a precise blow to the back of the head.
The first thug turned around just in time to see his buddy disappear into the darkness. His eyes went wide, and he fumbled for his gun, but John was on him before he could shoot, scream or make a fuss. A quick punch to the gut left the thug gasping for air, and John followed up with a swift kick to the knee, sending the man crashing to the ground.
"Who's there?" the thug wheezed, trying to scramble back to his feet.
John leaned in close, his voice a low growl. "Just a ghost. And you're about to have a very bad night."
The thug's eyes widened in terror as John delivered a final blow, knocking him out cold. John stood up, dusting off his hands, and stepped over the unconscious bodies. He pushed open the door and slipped into the club.
The interior was a chaotic mix of flashing lights, pounding music, and dancing bodies. The gang had chosen the perfect cover—no one would notice a few extra men hanging around, and the noise would drown out any suspicious sounds. But John was a master of slipping through unnoticed. He moved through the crowd like a shadow, heading toward the back of the club where the gang's stash was hidden.
As he approached, he could hear the voices of more thugs, laughing and joking as they counted money and sorted through packages.
"This is the life, man," one of them said. "Money, drugs, and all the girls you could want. Ain't nothin' better."
"You got that right," another replied. "And the best part? We got this place locked down. Nobody's gettin' past us."
John smiled to himself. It was almost too easy.
He waited until one of them moved away from the stash, heading toward the bar for a drink. Then, he struck. He moved with lightning speed, taking out the nearest thug with a quick blow to the head. The man crumpled to the ground, unnoticed by his companions. John continued, taking out the second thug with a well-placed punch to the throat.
By the time the last thug realized something was wrong, it was too late. John was on him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.
"Where's the stash?" John demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The thug struggled, his eyes wide with fear. "B-back there, behind the wall! Please, don't hurt me!"
John nodded, satisfied, and knocked the thug out with a quick jab. He moved to the wall, finding the hidden panel that concealed the stash. Inside were stacks of cash, bags of drugs, and a few more weapons. He grabbed what he could carry, stuffing the cash into a duffel bag, and left the rest. The drugs he destroyed, just like before.
As he left the club, he could already hear the commotion inside as the gang realized they'd been hit. But by then, John was long gone, disappearing into the night.
It might've not been as violent as his 'meeting' with Hungry, but the damage wasn't that much smaller, especially if someone called on a phone booth to report screams and gunshots in a certain gentleman's bar.
Who said a vampire couldn't be a good citizen?
The third gang was based in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Brideshead. This one was going to be more challenging—the place was a fortress, with high walls and a small army of heavily armed thugs, all they needed was a few watch towers and they could go to war.
But John wasn't about to back down. If anything, the challenge only made him more determined.
He approached the factory cautiously, sticking to the darkness as he scouted the perimeter. There were thugs playing guard posted at every entrance, and he could see the outlines of more men patrolling the upper levels. They were prepared for a siege, but not for someone like him.
John waited until one of the guards wandered too close to the edge of the fence before he made his move. He scaled the wall quickly, grabbing the guard and pulling him over the edge. The man hit the ground with a dull thud, unconscious before he could even react.
The vampire slipped inside the factory, moving silently through the maze of machinery and rusting equipment between tables where the dope was cut and package. The place was massive, with multiple levels and plenty of places to hide. But he had a mission, and he wasn't about to get distracted.
He could hear the gang members talking as he moved closer to the center of the factory, where the main stash was most likely to be hidden.
"I'm tellin' you, man, the boss is freakin' out. He's got everyone on high alert."
"Can you blame him? First Hungry's crew, then the nightclub… who's next?"
"Whoever it is, they're gonna get a bullet in the head if they try anything here."
John smirked. These guys were so confident, so sure that they were untouchable. He was about to show them just how wrong they were.
That, or there was some sort of virus making people stupidly brave in Gotham City.
He crept closer, his eyes scanning the area for any weaknesses in their defenses. The main stash was heavily guarded, with at least a dozen men stationed around it. They were armed with shotguns, assault rifles, and a few handguns—enough firepower to take down a small army.
'Where are the canons?' He thoughts, looking everywhere but finding none, 'That's strange...bitches love canons.'
But John wasn't a small army. He was something much more dangerous, a tween's dream fantasy.
He waited for the right moment, then struck. He moved quickly, using the darkness and the cluttered layout of the factory to his advantage. The first two thugs went down silently, their weapons clattering to the ground as they fell. The third managed to get off a shot, but it went wide, missing John by inches.
"Who the hell is out there?!" one of the thugs shouted, panic in his voice.
"Spread out! Don't let him get away!" One of them shouted, giving out the worst possible command.
The gang members fanned out, searching for their invisible attacker. But John was already on the move, picking them off one by one. He used the factory's machinery as cover, slipping between the shadows and striking when they least expected it. The thugs tried to fight back, but how were they supposed to overcome a vampire of all things? Not that they knew…
"Man, this guy's like a freakin' ghost!" one of them shouted, his voice trembling with fear.
"Shut up and keep looking! We gotta find him!"
It was all in vain. John was everywhere and nowhere at once, always one step ahead of them. He took down another thug, then another, until only a few were left standing. By then, the panic had set in, and they were firing wildly into the darkness, desperate to hit something—anything.
John took advantage of their panic, closing in on the last few thugs. He disarmed one, elbowing him in the liver before knocking him out with a punch...yeah, that man wasn't gonna drink booze for a long time.
The last two tried to run, but John was faster. He caught them before they could reach the exit, taking them down with a few well-placed strikes.
When it was over, John stood in the middle of the factory, surrounded by unconscious bodies. He took a moment to catch his breath, then moved to the stash. Just like before, he took the cash and destroyed the drugs.
It was time for him to come back home with the booty, the night would be over soon and he wasn't eager to sleep in the sewers for the whole day.
The next day, the streets would talk of a monster in Brideshead hunting down drug dealers with a vengence.
Some said that it was the ghost of a man they killed during a shout-out, back from the underworld to give them a taste of their own medicine.
Others called it bullsh*t, and said there was no way a single man could do all this, it had to be another gang trying to get one over their competition.
In less than a day, there was a dozen different version of the events, and even those who experienced John's own version of 'the fist of love' disagreed about what trully happened.
The vampire who caused this mess was oblivious, having gone to sleep thinking about how he could exploit the opportunity to make some actual progress in ridding the streets of the drugs that made the blood so disgusting.
He might've broken the bones of the dealers, but the users were still out there looking to get high, eventually someone would come to satisfy their needs for a few bucks no matter how many gangbanger he beat up or how much money he stol—righfully plundered.
If he wanted to hurt the drug market, he had to ged rid of the fiends keeping it alive.
One thing was certain though, things were about to change.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And we're done, already.
If you've got any suggestions, don't be a stranger.
Leave a comment, drop yet stones and have a mighty fine day!