I have no idea how many parts of this I'll write, I'll write it until I'm burn out on it, then maybe come back. Well, enjoy.
I
"Bloody Mary..." I whisper as I look into the mirror. The candle light flickers in the complete darkness of an abandoned house. "Bloody Mary..." I repeat, as I grab the handle of my trusty engraved double barrel shotgun. "Bloody Mary!" I shout and immediately turn around and press both of the triggers at the same time. The silver coated 10-gauge buckshot shreds a hideous figure, leaving smoking holes where it entered. This one is no more, this wretched place has been purified, my work is done here. I stand still for another moment, examine the creature. It's definitely finished, nothing could have survived that blast. Although, being who I am you can never be too sure. I shatter the mirror with the stock of my weapon, sling it on my shoulder and grab one of the gasoline cans I have prepared. I open it and pour it generously over the remains of the being and the bathroom of the house. On my way out I pour a couple more cans, the building reeks of it when I'm finished. I walk out onto the porch, my coat flies nervously on the wind. This side of the Jersey River isn't the most calm one, the locals are definitely not startled by two gunshots that happened just a couple of minutes ago, although what is about to happen will most absolutely gain the much undeserved attention. I reach into my coat, dig a pack of cigarettes of a pocket along with a lighter. I insert the cancer-stick into my mouth and light it. After a couple of drags that do help with my nerves, I toss the still glowing butt into the dark bowels of the ruin. It quickly bursts in flames, as I walk away I can feel the heat on my back. I hop onto my steel steed, a Harley-Davidson Fat Bob, as dark as the night that surrounds me. My heavy leather coat creates a horrifying sound as I cruise down the roads of New Jersey.
Finally, I arrive at my safehouse. A small, dirty apartment at a cheap motel, good enough for my needs of staying as low profile as possible. I flick the switch on the wall, a wardrobe moves uncovering the entrance to my secret hideout. I load the shotgun with more silver coated 00 buck, deadly to all magic-using creatures of the supernatural kind. I quickly look through my supplies, note what is needed and quickly head back outside. Fortunately, my boss' office is close, no need to waste fuel. I walk down the road with a lit cigarette in my mouth to enter a small park soon. Who am I? I keep asking myself the same question. I don't even know how old am I, what is my name, why am I doing what I'm doing. I know nothing about myself, I have no past. I don't even know when I lost the memory of who I was. Being lost in my thoughts does not even stop me from feeling that I am being watched. I have always felt the presence of nearby supernatural beings. It was always either through smell or through just this weird, eeiry vibrating sensation that goes through my guts everytime there is something out there. This time, it smelled like a vampire, lurking in the bushes. I press a small button on my right wrist, unfolding the minature crossbow hidden beneath the sleeve of my coat and shoot into the darkness. A couple of seconds later I hear a body drop to the ground, the feeling of a presence stops. I approach the body with a flashlight in my hand. The bolt hit right in the heart, silver tip still smoking inside the chest of the nightwalker. He didn't look like a regular vampire that went to look for a victim to feed on in the wrong park... He was wearing what could be described as combat gear, had a sword on his belt, hidden blades, was basically armed to the teeth. "Who did I piss off this time, huh?" I mumble, as I spit the finished cigarette out of my lips and proceed to search the body. There, just what I was looking for, in a pocket. A contract for my head. No substantial information though, just my profile and the price of whopping ninety thousand US dollars. I guess someone really must want me dead, then. Better watch myself.
A few moments pass until I enter the moist basement that my boss calls an office. The walls are decorated with trophies taken from monsters. I quickly recognize some that I took myself. The place smells of rotten wood, cheap cigarettes and money. I walk up to the giant, wooden desk. "Boss, it's done." I say, while presenting a piece of the broken mirror to the chubby, bald man behind the desk. "Great, here's your money, but what the hell took you so long?" He asks, as he hands an envelope full of money to me. I open it, count the green bills and nod, while stashing the envelope inside my coat. At the same time, I take the contract out of my pocket and put it on top of the desk. "Someone wants to whack me, Boss. It's good they only sent an amateur though." I say as I slide the folded piece of paper to the man. "Whoa, that's serious business... Any idea who might want you dead?" He says after reading what's on the piece of paper and sitting in absolute awe for a while. "No, Boss, unfortunately. If you find something about it, notify me as soon as possible. Uh, are there any other bounties to collect in the meanwhile? I can always use the money..." I say with a monotone, cold voice. "Yeah, there's a troll under a bridge, can you believe it? Third one this week, stupid creatures, what do they see in those bridges? Anyway, you up to it?" The Boss asks, as he lays the envelope with more bounty data inside on his desk. I say nothing while I take the brown dossier, turn around on my feet and head up the stairs. I approach the door, open it, walk outside... and feel a blunt impact on the back of my head, followed by darkness...
TO BE CONTINUED
