Heist Gone Wrong (Aaron Hunter)

[Nerissa Clemming]

It started out as a normal night. Nerissa had already robbed a couple of low-security places and had obtained a good amount of loot to sell. It should be enough for a couple of blood packs, but she didn't mind if she had to drink from a couple of people on the way to the shop. There was just one more place she wanted to hit and then she would be done for the night. She had been casing this warehouse for a couple of nights now and the security was a bit higher than she was used to, but it wasn't something she hadn't dealt with before.

Getting in was the easy part. Nerissa had learned the guard's rotations and slipped in as soon as they were clear of the door. She moved silently throughout the building, shoving valuables into her bag as she went. The stuff here was going to fetch a good price. Soon enough she stood in front of the final door, a somewhat complicated keypad barring her from entry. She set to work immediately, using the various skills she acquired over the years to hack her way in. Just as she was a one step away from cracking the code, a blaring alarm rang out through the building. Cursing, Nerissa shoved her tools back in her bag and sprinted for the door.

The night air was welcoming, but Nerissa wasn't able to fully appreciate it as she ran down the road. Glancing behind her, she noticed a man giving chase. He wasn't a typical guard and wasn't wearing a uniform, but judging from the variety of weapons and scars this guy was a hunter. Great. Cursing her luck, Nerissa darted down an alleyway, then screeched to a halt in order to not collide with a large, burly man standing at the end of it. Nerissa turned to go back and saw that the hunter had already caught up. She was trapped. Her shadow grew in length as it coiled protectively around Nerissa, like a viper waiting to strike. Nerissa meanwhile pulled a small shotgun from her belt. "Alright then, who's first?"

[Aaron Hunter]

Jets of lukewarm water erupted from the chrome-plated shower nozzle, crashing down upon the cool shoulders of the figure standing below to form a glittering army of shimmering beads. As the refreshing miniature waterfall started to heat up, the steam gently rising to form a blurry mist across the glass cage of the shower cubicle and the cracked bathroom mirror, the aching muscles of the weary killer began to slowly relax. The tall, toned man rubbed his face vigorously in an attempt to wake himself from his seemingly permanent state of tiredness – it was a stupor that had engulfed the once energetic vampire for months, like a cloak of dense, choking fog.

Leaning against the smooth white tiles that furnished the inside of the fairly small cubicle, both palms flat to the walls as if he were being arrested and about to be frisked by the shower police, Aaron Hunter released a deep sigh from his lips; it was a groan that sounded like defeat. His pessimistic mutterings were drowned out by the chugging noise of the extractor fan that was probably in desperate need of a service from a qualified engineer. Dropping his neck, clumps of drenched, thick black hair falling limply across his wet face, Aaron’s hazel eyes stared, almost aimlessly, at the plughole beneath him. Maybe he could get sucked down the drain, dragged into the sewers and cast out into oblivion? Maybe that had already happened?

To say that the last few months had been a rollercoaster ride of pure craziness would be a monumental understatement. Everything had gone to ****. Everything. The Masquerade had long since fallen, fellow vampires were either trying to rip the Rift wide open or slam it firmly shut, and the entire community seemed to have imploded upon itself. Was Harper Rock a haven for the undead, a sanctuary where they could freely live their immortal lives, or had it become a city of chaos, a modern day version of the Wild West’s incarnation of Dodge City? For Aaron, it was most definitely the latter, and he simply had to get the hell out of Dodge before it consumed what was left of his tortured soul.

Aaron’s clan, his adoptive vampiric family, had scattered like leaves in a powerful autumnal storm. The leader had vanished into thin air, swiftly followed by pretty much everyone else, including Aaron’s mysterious sire. Had they all entered the Bermuda Triangle, swallowed up by a sinister force? The headquarters, the lair of the tribe, was now nothing more than an abandoned building filled with deadly traps and deafening silence. Aaron’s footsteps created eerie echoes the last time he had frequented the empty shell, his sturdy boots sounding like the stomping of a giant mammoth.

That was what seemed like an age ago, a time when the cheerful and affable vampire had friends, a job… a life. Acquaintances and companions had been driven underground, both literally and metaphorically, like frightened dwarfs escaping a marauding horde of orcs. Frequently seen faces became total strangers, and the shadows were transformed from places of safety to areas of danger. Uncertainty was the order of the day.

Then there was the redhead, the lover… the pregnant lover. Aaron had witnessed some true horrors in his troubled life, but he still wasn’t able to discuss that event, never mind assimilate it and come to terms with it.

In his confused mind, there had been only one option, one way out of his latest, eternal nightmare: to run away.

Twisting the shower handle to extinguish the waves of water, the pipes creaking like an old staircase as the flow shuddered to a halt, Aaron promptly shook his head to shake off some of the excess liquid that clung to his hair. He resembled a shaggy dog, his overgrown locks and scruffy stubble adding to the effect. A powerful arm reached forward to grab the cream coloured towel that hung loosely on a nearby hook, the motel logo embossed across a corner advertising to the wayward vampire that he had been living out of a suitcase for far too long. Sure, he still owned an apartment back in the city, but he hadn’t been there for longer than he cared to remember. He hadn’t been up onto the roof where the redhead had first appeared out of nowhere, where the genie had been let out of the bottle. There were too many memories, too much hurt and pain.

Drying himself with the towel that had clearly seen better days, Aaron left the dingy bathroom and wandered into the bedroom, the twin single beds greeting him with a sense of emptiness, just as they always did since he checked in over three weeks ago. Scooping up the clothes that lay in a heap on top of one of the beds, the killer quickly got dressed, not really caring about his appearance or the lack of coordination of his outfit’s parts. A green military style T-shirt and faded grey jeans, really?

Aaron barely even took notice of the body that was tucked up tightly in the adjacent bed, such was the state of semi-hibernation that had currently taken over the formally effervescent character. Tufts of deep pink hair popped up above the sheets like the shoots of fresh spring flowers, and a tattooed arm poked out into the stale bedroom air, grasping at nothingness. Said limb had come in incredibly handy of late, providing an invaluable landing zone for the vampire to clamp down his teeth and feast upon the woman’s precious blood. Poppy was a loyal and obedient thrall. She undoubtedly deserved better than this pitiful so-called existence, and it was Aaron who was responsible for effectively condemning her to a living hell. He needed to fix this almighty mess.

Once more, Aaron sighed, the breath caressing his dry lips as it mingled with the cool musty air of the motel room. This needed to stop. It needed to stop right now. The once mighty fighter had to get back in the ring, dust off the gloomy cobwebs and regain his life before he completely wasted away in a desert of self-pity. Aaron, for the sake of his own sanity, had to return to Harper Rock.

“Poppy,” he said softly, “I’m going to head out for a while. I’ll give you a call later.”

Aaron’s words were met with a muffled mumble of a response, and the slightest of gestures from the sleepy thrall’s fingers. Aaron mustered up a half-smile before slipping on his old leather jacket that had been draped across the back of the bedroom’s lonely wooden chair. Reaching the door, Aaron paused for a moment, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t simply stay hidden under a stone forever, trapped in an indefinite limbo; he had to make a move before it was too late. Surely, things could still be different? Surely, there was still another way?

Venturing outside, Aaron’s mind was made up. He was returning to the city, he was reclaiming his life. No longer would Aaron hide, and no longer would he run.

[Nerissa Clemming]

Nerissa glared at her pursuers, cautiously looking between the men surrounding her. No one made a move except for her coiling shadow, but that didn't really count. It was like a classic cowboy standoff as she kept a tight grip on her gun, her entire body tense and on high alert. Mentally, she was planning out an escape plan, just in case. There was a good chance she could take out both hunters if she needed to-- Her plans got interrupted as a third man joined the one who had chased her here. Great. That makes things much harder.

Nerissa exhaled needlessly (some habits are hard to kill), then with lightning speed she raised her gun and fired and her shadow darted behind her. Her shot hit the hunter in the shoulder, but it didn't seem to faze him as he returned fire. Nerissa darted to hide behind a car for cover, the sounds of gunfire filling the air. The hunter her shadow attacked screamed and fired at the ground beneath him, but it was undeterred as it spun around him, swatting at his legs almost playfully.

Smirking, Nerissa leaned to the side and fired at a hunter multiple times, hitting the already injured hunter in the leg. With a howl of pain, the hunter fell to his knee and returned fire, most of the bullets hitting the car except for one that grazed her arm. It was then that all thoughts of escape were forgotten. These hunters were not going to escape this alive if she had anything to say about it. Glancing over, she saw that her shadow was now slashing viciously, creating large gashes all over his body.

Satisfied that he was taken care of, Nerissa focused on the other two who were currently firing at her cover. As soon as there was a pause, she fired multiple times at them again until her gun only clicked. Cursing, she ducked back to the safety of the car. Why didn't she restock at the shop yesterday? She holstered her gun and brandished a long, wicked knife instead, then focused all of her concentration to emit an intimidating aura. If she was lucky she would be able to take them out while they faltered. If not, then she really hoped she was good at dodging bullets.

[Aaron Hunter]

A click of the fingers would have been enough to transport the powerful vampire directly into the beating heart of the buzzing city centre, but that was simply too easy. Aaron had no desire to be some kind of flashy undead magician, the dazzling illusionist in a modern day version of a travelling circus or vaudevillian theatrical company. Sure, he had enjoyed playing to boisterous and buoyant crowds while drumming in his various bands, but that spark had, for the time being at least, been dampened. Escapism had become the fun-loving fighter’s favourite friend.

Aaron decided to take the far more subtle approach of hopping onto a train, flopping into an empty seat, propping himself up against the window frame, and popping in his earphones. The familiar and comforting sound of Green Day’s Dookie peppered the musician’s eardrums as the vehicle departed the station, en route to Harper Rock.

As the train rattled along the track, the metronomic rhythm merging smoothly with the beat of the tunes bursting out of Aaron’s old iPod, the somewhat apprehensive vampire gazed out through the misty window into the dark night sky. What would it be like to walk on the weathered streets of Harper Rock once again? Would he even recognise the place? Although Aaron hadn’t physically set foot in the city for several months, he had seen, heard, and read about the crazy situation that had developed in his hometown. The TV, radio, newspapers, and especially the wacky conspiracy websites on the net had been constantly reporting on the weird and wonderful events that were now routinely happening in the city. What exactly would Aaron find?

A buzzing sensation in the pocket of his faded jeans refocused Aaron’s attention, yanking his mind away from its wandering journey of what ifs and maybes. The killer’s latest iPhone had taken a pounding courtesy of a couple of ammo rounds from an overzealous hunter’s assault rifle during Aaron’s last day in Harper Rock. With one thing and another, he’d neither had the sense nor the inclination to get a new one. Instead, the vampire pulled a grubby old Nokia phone from his pocket, allowing Aaron to read a brief text message from his thrall, Poppy, that informed him of his forgetfulness in leaving his weapons in the motel room. It was evidently clear that Aaron’s daily routine had dropped off a cliff, leaving him in a permanent state of limbo. It was a position that caused endless lapses in his concentration.

“Oops,” muttered Aaron under his breath. “That’s a bit clumsy of me.”

A flurry of feverish finger clicks drew up a swift reply to his diligent thrall, letting her know that he’d be fine… obviously. Having fired off the reply, Aaron stuffed the battered old phone back into its home in his jeans. Nobody else would text him, nobody else would phone to say hello. All his contacts lay mangled in the shattered casing of his pulverised iPhone. Aaron really had gone incommunicado, vanishing off the grid for months on end.

The short journey to Harper Rock was otherwise uneventful. The twinkling of stars in the jet black night sky gave way to the artificial glow of street lamps and illuminated buildings as the train drew closer to the southern edge of the city. The familiar sights of the Newborough district sent strange shivers down Aaron’s spine. He was back… back home, like a salmon swimming against the powerful currents to return to its spawning site.

Skipping off the train with a spritely spring in his step, Aaron inhaled a huge breath of cold, crisp city air. It was as if he were trying to draw the very essence of Harper Rock into his body and assimilate it into his soul. He didn’t need the air, but it felt good as the sharp coolness of winter tickled his nostrils and the back of his dry throat. He’d vowed that he wouldn’t return, and yet here he was. The mysterious magnetism of Harper Rock had drawn Aaron back; it always would.

Despite disappearing under the radar for month after month, locking away his amazing abilities and, for the most part, calming the urges that went hand in hand with being a bloodthirsty vampire, Aaron’s highly tuned senses hadn’t totally gone into hibernation. His keen vision caught sight of a couple of soldiers patrolling the entrance to the subway station, their rifles clearly on display. There had always been a strong military presence around the Quarantine Zone, but if the news reports were to be believed, the whole of Harper Rock wasn’t far off becoming a city under marshal law.

Turning up the collar of his leather jacket, Aaron released a heavy sigh into the cool night air, the vapours streaming from his mouth looking like the breath of a fledgling dragon. He was going to have to be extra vigilant, incredibly cautious as he reacquainted himself with the streets of Harper Rock. Who, or indeed what, would Aaron find as he explored the city? What demons were lurking in the shadows? Were hunters out in force, desperate to capture and kill their prey, and were ancient zombies prowling the dark alleyways, running wild?

[Nerissa Clemming]

Waiting a few precious moments for the intimidation aura to build, Nerissa left the safety of the car's cover and roared. The magic worked beautifully on one of the hunters, he froze completely with fear. The other one, however, only faltered for a second, which was all Nerissa needed to charge. She slashed at both hunters as she went past, creating a long gash on each of them. Her confidence grew as she ran up a building wall and flipped back, slashing at the hunters as she flew over them. The hunters attempted to retaliate with their guns, but Nerissa was too quick for them at his point. She had the upper hand and she intended to use as much as she could.

It didn't last long, however. As soon as Nerissa landed, a sharp pain hit her side and made her nearly lose her balance. Looking over, she saw that the hunter who was struggling with her shadow had fired at her. He looked very injured, and her shadow was still attacking him, but he ignored it and was intent on focusing on Nerissa instead.

Nerissa cursed. She got too confident and paid for it. Glancing at the three hunters, she quickly calculated her next move. Another shot from the hunter that hit her sounded and she dodged it just in time, running away from the alley and down the street at full speed. She wasn't running away from the fight, these guys had to pay for attacking her, but maybe she could get somewhere that would offer more protection. She ran down the street, her mind racing with ideas and possibilities of how to win this, but she wasn't paying attention and collided with someone. She crashed to the ground hard, scraping her arms against the concrete. Groaning, she slowly pushed herself up and looked at who it was she collided with, ready to chew them out for being in her way, until she realized she recognized the person. "Aaron? What are you-" The sound of running footsteps interrupted her and she saw the three hunters gaining on her. They were all injured, but they definitely still seemed raring to continue the fight.

"Ah, so uh, I have some friends that really need to die. Mind giving me a hand? If you're not busy that is," she asked Aaron. She hated asking for help, but the bullet hole in her side reminded her that she wasn't doing that great alone.

[Aaron Hunter]

Aaron’s deep hazel eyes flicked repeatedly left and right like windscreen wipers during a thunderous downpour as the prodigal vampire constantly scanned the formally familiar environment of Harper Rock’s streets. Slowly but surely, Aaron was reacquainting himself with the buildings and landmarks that had been temporarily erased from his existence, sights and sounds that had been so commonplace in his life, but ones that had effectively been placed into a state of suspended animation.

Suddenly, everything started to come flooding back. Torrents of information and a tsunami of memories washed over Aaron as he immersed himself in the strange atmosphere of the city. It was as though the heavens had opened directly above the killer’s head, with dark, murky clouds raining down huge droplets of his past endeavours, soaking him to the bone. He’d expected this kind of reaction, but it still freaked him out.

A shudder rippled across Aaron’s entire body. Maybe it was simply the chilly night air teasing his skin, or perhaps Aaron’s apprehensive mind was playing tricks with his senses? Either way, it left the powerful hunter feeling slightly uneasy. Once more, Aaron fiddled with the collar of his leather jacket, folding it down before flipping it up again. He didn’t like this weird feeling of uncertainty that had engulfed him like a dense fog. Aaron had always tried to be a free spirit, a carefree and happy-go-lucky type of guy who brushed away worries like water off a duck’s back, but this sensation - this scenario - was unlocking some very peculiar emotions.

The loud beeping noise of a motorcar’s horn shocked Aaron back into the real world. His mind had been wandering, rambling thoughts of his old life in the city causing him to lose concentration. Aaron’s feet had followed the route engaged by his troubled thoughts, his heavy boots drifting ever closer to the road and the vehicles that frequented the asphalt highways. Thankfully for Aaron, the driver of the oncoming car had noticed the pedestrian’s wayward walking pattern, the tooting of the horn coming just in time to avert a collision.

Aaron skipped backwards, raising an apologetic hand in the direction of the passing Toyota to acknowledge his mistake, and to thank the driver for his vigilance. Releasing a massive sigh, blowing out air through pouted lips until his cold cheeks deflated like a spent party balloon, the startled vampire brought his hands to his face and rubbed his tired eyes.

“Get your **** together, dude,” he muttered under his breath.

For a third time in as many minutes, Aaron messed around with his collar. Despite yet another intervention, the jacket ended up looking exactly as it did before this latest reshuffle. Aaron paused, remaining motionless for a few seconds as he realised what he was doing. The slightest of smiles crept gently across Aaron’s face.

“Man,” he mumbled, “you really do need to chill out. You’re gonna wear out the leather.”

Coughing out half a laugh while he shook his head in amusement, Aaron brushed the lapels of his black jacket as if he were stroking a pet to show it affection. It was the first time that the affable drummer had laughed - well, almost laughed - in what seemed like an eternity. It felt odd. It felt… good.

Taking in another large lungful of crisp night air that tickled the inside of his chest, Aaron’s attention quickly turned to another sound, this time rather more distant and certainly more tuneful than the abruptness of the car horn just moments earlier. It sounded like a brass band playing some kind of upbeat marching song. His ears pricked up like a wolf out on the prowl as the musician tried to determine the source of the commotion. Was it a church orchestra playing Christmas carols to spread festive cheer, or perhaps a marching band performing for a St. Patrick’s Day parade?

Aaron had absolutely no idea what month it was. Days had merged together into weeks, weeks into months. Life had become one big blur. Time no longer held any relevance. Only the coldness of the evening gave Aaron any kind of clue as to the current season. To Aaron, it had seemed like winter for a long time, a very long time.

For a few brief moments, Aaron’s thoughts wandered back to his childhood in New York. Memories of his father, the firefighter, and the parades held by the fire department’s marching band poured into his mind. It was a troubling and mentally draining period of his life, but Aaron would always draw some sense of comfort from the constant rhythm of the band’s drumbeat.

In a flash, Aaron’s day dreaming was cut short. Having managed to avoid being splattered by a car only minutes earlier, the dizzy drummer’s luck ran out. Fortunately for Aaron, this head on collision was with a speeding person, with flesh and blood, rather than the cold, hard metal of a car’s front grill. Nevertheless, such was the force of the impact that the powerful killer collapsed in a heap on his back, a flailing elbow jabbing into his stomach as the onrushing body slumped unceremoniously on top of him before crashing next to the dazed vampire with an almighty thud.

Rubbing the back of his head, which had made a swift acquaintance with the unforgiving concrete pavement, Aaron heard a female voice - a familiar voice - call out his name. As he gazed upwards, squinting to regain his composure, Aaron recognised the woman scrambling to her feet above him, the streaks of vibrant purple in her hair giving Aaron the perfect clue to her identity.

“Nerissa?” he said in a surprised voice while springing to his feet and listening to her request for help. “How’ve you been? Who needs to die?”

Aaron’s keen eyes caught a glimpse of the wound that was oozing blood from the young woman’s side. Instinctively, like an inquisitive infant, Aaron thrust out a hand and poked at the bullet hole, drawing his bloody fingers to his lips to steal a taste.

“You’re bleeding!” announced Aaron.

It was stating the obvious, but Aaron said it in a way that resembled a small child who had just discovered that ice cream tasted nice. His eyes widened, shocked at what he’d just done.

“Sorry!” he said. “That was very rude of me.”

There was no time for Aaron to deliver a full apology, or for Nerissa to give a detailed explanation about how she had come to be bearing a gaping hole in her skin. The heavy banging of footsteps, like galloping horses during a cavalry charge, grabbed the attention of both of them. Three armed men, undoubtedly hunters of some sort, burst around a corner in hot pursuit of their prey, in this case the purple-haired woman.

“Ah, I see,” said Aaron. “These are the guys who need to die? I’ve got this covered.”

Reaching inside his jacket, Aaron intended to withdraw his trusted firearm with the sole purpose of dispatching the onrushing thugs. But there was a problem, a gigantic problem: the deadly assassin had forgotten to bring his weapons out with him.

“Oh ****!” he exclaimed. “Poppy’s gonna feel so smug when she hears about this!”

Harbouring a slightly annoyed and bemused expression across his stubbly face, Aaron turned to his old friend, Nerissa, grabbing her arm.

“Ok, change of plan,” he said with an embarrassed tone to his voice. “Run, run away!”

[Nerissa Clemming]

It was odd to feel comforted by Aaron's presence, even if he poked at her wound without warning. She nearly snapped at him for it, but held back. She needed help and, despite her many years alone, she knew insults were not the way to get it. She stepped back, content to let Aaron take care of this like he said he could, then tensed when he had no weapon. "Are you kidding me?!"

The hunters hesitated their advance, wary of the newcomer until it was apparent he was unarmed. Nerissa did not want to let them get any closer, so she took Aaron's advice and ran down the street with him. There didn't seem to be a lot of people out tonight, and those that were out were either too drunk or busy ignoring the situation to offer any aid. Nerissa didn't really have any place in mind, they just needed to get away at this point. They just needed somewhere safer. More cover? Maybe one of the nearby buildings? Trying to get in one might take too much precious time. Nerissa didn't look back, but maybe they had gotten some dista-

A couple of gunshots flying past them disproved that. They were definitely still behind them, and Nerissa could feel herself tiring. It was at that point that she realized where they were and she felt a spike of hope. "I have a stash nearby, has some weapons," she said to Aaron, panting. "I don't know how much farther I can run, so unless you have a better idea or a good hiding place I vote we go for it. Up to you."

[Aaron Hunter]

The couple of old friends sprinted through the streets, desperate to shake off the gunmen. They were like members of the framed gang from the classic cult movie, The Warriors, trying to cross New York City without getting beaten to a pulp. The light from the moon dipped in and out of cloud cover, acting as a searchlight for the hit squad that was in hot pursuit. There was no loss in honour for wanting to run away. It was always better to flee and live to fight another day than to stand and fight like some kind of brave medieval knight, only to be mowed down by a hail of lethal bullets.

“Man!” exclaimed Aaron. “I feel like such a clown. Carrying no weapons is a total noob move. Sorry!”

The powerful vampire’s thoughts drifted to the blockbuster movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark. Indiana Jones, the intrepid archaeologist, had been confronted by a sword-wielding henchman, but he simply drew his firearm and popped a cap in the thuggish bad guy’s *** to take him out in the coolest of manners. Unfortunately for the rugged hero, when he tried to pull the same move in the sequel, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, Dr Jones ended up looking like a complete Muppet when his gun cupboard was bare. Right now, Aaron was that Muppet.

But this wasn’t the time for an impromptu movie review. There were three angry hunters hot on their heels, and judging by the volley of bullets that were flying passed Aaron’s shoulders like wasps around a picnic table, they were out for blood.

The killer looked across at Nerissa while the pair attempted to outpace the death squad. She seemed to be struggling a little, running low on gas, probably due to the injury that the purple-haired woman had already sustained. He attempted to offer a few words of encouragement.

“You look great, by the way,” he announced. “Well, apart from the extra hole and what not. We’ll get that sorted out soon enough.”

Another shot whizzed passed Aaron’s head, screaming like a banshee as it narrowly missed his ear and clattered into the corner of a building, tiny splinters of stone being spat out from the old office block as it ricocheted away. Aaron wondered if he had been transported to the backstreets of Aleppo in Syria rather than Harper Rock in Canada. He knew that the situation in the city had worsened, and that tensions between humans and vampires had reached an all time low, but this was almost like open warfare on the streets. The air seemed to be littered with the sounds of police sirens. What the hell was going on in the city? Nerissa’s suggestion of reaching her secret stash of weapons sounded like a great idea. The duo needed to try and even up this particular battle, and quickly, before they were turned into mincemeat.

“Ok,” said Aaron, “I saw three of those hunter dudes, although one of them looks pretty badly wounded. If we could make it to your…”

Aaron’s sentence was abruptly interrupted by yet another vicious bullet zipping perilously close to his head, the projectile pounding into a street sign with an almighty thud. Glancing over his shoulder, Aaron was alarmed to see that one of the heavily armed warriors was almost upon them. Evasion was becoming difficult, perhaps even impossible.

Suddenly, Aaron recognised a familiar building up ahead. It was a cheap nightclub where he used to hang out in the old days - in the days before the shutters and boarding had gone up.

“Quick!” yelled Aaron. “This way.”

Grabbing Nerissa’s arm, Aaron dragged his companion around a corner. At some stage, the normally polite and well-mannered vampire would have to apologise for his poking and pulling antics, but for now, he had a plan.

“We can dive down into the sewers. There’s an entrance over…”

Again, Aaron’s words were rudely brought to a sudden halt, but this time it was because the distracted vampire had crashed headlong into a huge recycling bin full of old glass bottles. He really had lost his focus during his sabbatical in the wilderness. A handful of familiar favourites - Jack Daniels, Jim Bean, and various incarnations of Smirnoff Vodka - tumbled out of the giant trashcan. Some shattered as they hit the cold, hard floor, sparkling like a pool of diamonds under the dim street lighting, while others bounced off Aaron’s legs and feet, slumping to a standstill.

An idea slapped the bruised vampire directly in the face as he gazed at the broken debris strewn across the floor. Swooping downwards like a hawk about to pounce on a hapless field mouse, Aaron clasped the neck of a fractured bourbon bottle tightly in the palm of his powerful hand. Thrusting upwards like a rocket during lift-off, the deadly killer plunged the razor-sharp edge of the broken glass weapon deep into the neck of the onrushing hunter as he burst around the corner into the back alley. The improvised knife gouged a fatal blow just below the warrior’s jawline, severing his carotid artery and slashing into his windpipe.

A fountain of warm crimson blood spurted into the cool night air like an erupting volcano. The gurgling screams from the hunter’s mouth were instantly muffled as he choked upon his own viscous blood, despite his final desperate attempts to clamp his bloody hands around his spewing throat. He collapsed to his knees, eyes bulging in a state of terror, and then fell face first with a sickening crunch into the shimmering glass that already decorated the street.

Aaron gazed across at Nerissa, speckles of fresh arterial blood dotted across his cheek. Sometimes, there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.

[Nerissa Clemming]

Being undead had its perks, mostly the fact that Nerissa's pain threshold had skyrocketed and her bones didn't break near as easily as before. Even when they did, they healed so well they might as well have never been broken in the first place. However, that didn't mean she was immune to pain and all of this running around was really pushing her limit. This was not how she had planned tonight to go, but at least she wasn't alone anymore. However, she was not used to all of the poking and pulling that apparently came with Aaron's company. She didn't put up a fight though, allowing Aaron to help her. The pain and exhaustion was making it difficult to focus like she should.

When Aaron crashed into the bin, Nerissa ran into his back and stumbled backwards a bit, a little disoriented from the impact for a few seconds. "Careful! We don't have time for-" the hunter's sudden appearance cut her off. Before she had time to react, Aaron's broken bottle had already connected with the hunter and the smell of blood filled the air. Nerissa blinked, looked down at the broken bottles, then looked up at Aaron and grinned back. She snatched one of the broken bottles and darted forward, swinging her new weapon at the next hunter to come around the corner. The bottle lodged itself into the hunter's neck, nicking the artery there. It wasn't as precise as Aaron's was thanks to the lingering pain, but it was enough.

The final hunter was close enough to see his friends go down and was prepared, pulling a long knife from his belt and swinging it at Nerissa. She jumped back just in time to avoid the knife and jumped backwards, grabbing an unbroken bottle in the process. "Hey ugly!" She shouted, making sure to keep his attention on her. "You made a big mistake here, and it's gonna cost you your life." She kept her bottle in one hand and her knife in the other, hoping that the hunter was distracted enough for Aaron to strike.

[Aaron Hunter]

Aaron wasn’t the brightest child at school, but neither was he the dimmest. The artistic youth would definitely fall into the “distinctly average” category when it came to his yearly report. He did, however, quite enjoy a little bit of chemistry, mainly because there was the opportunity of mixing a few substances together and causing them to explode violently. The intense glow of burning phosphorus was a hypnotic experience that could be found in a pyromaniac’s wildest dream.

Chemical formulae and mathematical equations involving exothermic reactions may not have been his strong point, but Aaron did learn that the warm reddish coating of rust that formed on old items made of iron was a type of iron oxide. It always amused the wannabe academic that something as strong and sturdy as iron could be reduced to dirty orange flakes, scaly skin that crumbled away like stale breadcrumbs during a gentle caress between the fingers and thumbs of an inquisitive student.

As Aaron brushed away chips of rust and cracked grey paint from his shoulder, recently acquired from his collision with the weathered recycling bin, he wondered if it was a metaphor for his current life. He was rusty, sluggish and unsure, and his joints were in need of a thorough oiling , like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz when he was discovered by Dorothy in the forest. Although the killer had managed to dispatch the deadly hunter, it wasn’t with the surgical precision that Aaron was used to. He felt slow, as if he couldn’t get out of first gear. It was hard to tell if Aaron was the most powerful vampire in Harper Rock or a freshly turned novice.

Thankfully, his companion, Nerissa, appeared to be both speedy and dextrous with her actions, disposing of the second assassin with relative ease, despite the injury that would undoubtedly be hindering her movements. Aaron needed to dust off the cobwebs that were clogging up his mind and body, and do it quickly before his luck ran out.

Almost immediately, there was another opportunity for the creaking vampire to loosen up his lethargic limbs and polish away the layers of accumulated dust and rust. No rest for the wicked, or so they say. The third and final lethal hunter had burst onto the scene, armed with an impressive blade that looked like it could slice clean through concrete, never mind the arm or leg of a wounded vampire.

Nerissa had boldly drawn the muscular warrior towards her, but Aaron knew that he needed to act fast. There was not a second to waste. The celerity and skill with which Aaron launched his assault upon the hunter would have satisfied the desires of the most avid martial arts movie fanatic. He leapt like a leopard towards the assassin, landing on his victim’s back and wrestling the stunned thug to the ground in one swift passage of play. Aaron snarled like a savage beast, his mouth foaming with anger and aggression as he bared his monstrous fangs. Razor-sharp claws appeared to spring out from the vampire’s strong hands as he clamped his palms around the head of his opponent, gouging into the flesh of the screaming hunter.

Mustering a burst of supernatural strength, Aaron arched his spine like a longbow before throwing the whimpering human into the solid stone walls of one of the buildings that framed the dark alleyway. It was like watching a medieval catapult launching a huge boulder towards the ramparts of a castle during a bloody siege. The skull of the henchman crashed into the cold, heartless stone, sending a horrific cracking noise shooting into the cool night air. His numb, lifeless body slumped to the floor below, a gruesome stain of blood on the wall marking the point of impact, like a twisted graffiti artist had left his signature for all to see.

Aaron panted, bending at the waist and leaning forward as he rested his hands on his knees. Yes, he was still a bit rusty, but his abilities were steadily returning to the surface. He glanced across at Nerissa, several strands of thick black hair drooping in front of his face, partially obscuring his hazel eyes.

“I think we got ‘em,” he muttered. “I think we got all three.”

Straightening himself, like a soldier on sentry duty, Aaron brushed away the mop of tangled hair from his face, allowing him to fully survey the carnage that was strewn across the floor. It was a mess, a bloody, shambolic mess. The back alley resembled the aftermath of a battle, not a quite suburban street.

Aaron’s attention quickly turned back to Nerissa. Her wound looked painful, and he was sure that purple-haired woman may well have aggravated the injury during the fighting.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Aaron wafted out his arm, pointing a finger in the general direction of the gash on Nerissa’s side that was still oozing blood.

“I’m pretty sure I can help out with your injury,” he said, “help out with the blood loss.”

He scratched his head, as if he were trying to remember one of the incredibly difficult chemical equations from his old school days, while he stared at the wound once again.

“I know a few tricks, if you don’t mind me having another poke around?”

Pausing, Aaron cocked his head to the side, his ears picking up the faint sound of police sirens. Maybe the cops were responding to a robbery in Cherrydale, or a mugging over in Wickbridge; or perhaps they were heading here after reports of a scuffle on the streets? There were several pedestrians on the streets who must have seen the chase between the two vampires and the three recently deceased hunters. It would only have taken one of them to call the cops, and the pair would have more people pursuing them. Was another race through the twisting streets on the cards?

“Actually, let’s get out of here first,” added Aaron. “I think we need to find the bolt hole with your stash. I think we need to keep on running.”