Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. This applies to this chapter and all others that may follow. In short: I'm poor, please don't sue me.

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As you may already know, I live in Oklahoma. And, yes, I have been to a Gun Show. Sadly, Peterpire didn't turn up to rescue me so I was bored out of my skull. This story is the result of said boredom. Enjoy!

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Gun Show

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Peter's POV

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I met my match at a gun show in Tulsa. I was simply passing through the state on my way to Minnesota when I happened upon the arms convention. Two Days Only, the signs announced. Over 4,100 tables set up. All in one enormous 11 acre air-conditioned and heated room.

Now this should all sound mundane and terribly uninteresting to a vampire, or any other sane creature for that matter. Am I correct? Yes. So why, you may ask, did I find myself standing here filled with an obscene amount of gleeful anticipation? The answer to that question could be summed up with one simple word: boredom.

When you've been on this Earth as long as I have, you're bound to tire of things after a while. Always eating the same ol' humans, living the same dull life, avoiding the same idiotic vampires-basically, the same-shit-different-day analogy. It all tends to blend together after a while and your left feeling that surely there should be something else out there. Something more.

Boredom should be considered a disease among vampires. It is surely the number one cause of death among our kind. If I had a human for every time I heard a near-death experience story begin with the words "Well, I was bored and it seemed like a good idea at the time..", I'd be...well, I'd still be fuckin' hungry because, I'll admit, I've never been a very sociable creature. Death, or undeath as some of my kind prefer, has only amplified that little quirk of mine.

That, however, is neither here nor there. I'm simply trying to illustrate my point that boredom is dangerous to my kind. It's basically the influenza of vampires and the older you are, the more likely you are to catch it. All vampires over a century in age are very suseptible to it, myself included. That is my only excuse for what I was planning to do.

One human male my size and $10 later, I was walking into the gun show sloshy-full and dressed in some spiffy new camo duds. For some reason I had the unexplainable urge to yell "I'm wearing camo, bitches, you can't see me now!" but, thankfully, refrained. I pride myself on control.

I slowly picked my way through the massive horde of people, grinning in amusement at the two feet of personal space that always surrounded me no matter how closely the other humans were packed together. What can I say- it's basic human instinct at its finest. I scanned the crowd, carefully watching for the perfect human specimens for my game. It wouldn't be called The Most Dangerous Game if it wasn't dangerous, now would it?

Now I am well aware that typically the game would consist of humans hunting humans. Meh. I hunt humans all the time and there is nothing at all dangerous about it. But if it were another vampire...well, that would change things up a bit, now wouldn't it. That is where this little arms convention comes into play. I figure I should be able to find at least one worthy specimen.

In all honesty, I've never created another vampire before. Destroyed them? Sure. But making them? That was always Jasper's job. I do have excellent self-control, though, so I'm not too worried about that aspect of it. My time in Maria's army made me an excellent fighter and taught me all there is to know about newborns, so for my game to actually present enough of a challenge for it to be interesting, I have to choose my subject, or subjects, carefully.

By this time, I had just about decided that I would start small by creating only one vampire to hunt. The way I see it, if my game does successfully alleviate some of my boredom, I will eventually want to play again. And if I decided to play again, there would have to be even more danger for me to find it interesting the second time around. But there I go, getting ahead of myself again.

I flinched slightly as I heard one of the pathetic male humans call out to a female. Charlotte. Why the fuck did that particular human woman have to be named Charlotte? Why the fuck did the male have to call out her name like he was screaming a fucking battle-cry? Why the fuck did they have to be here, at this particular gun show, at this exact time? As if I needed any more proof that fate hates me.

Hearing 'the name that shall not be named' brought on a whole slew of memories, and my incredibly huge vampire brain was all too happy to make me recall, in vivid fucking detail, my last moments with the woman I once believed to be my forever.

~~~.~~~

I stared into her guilt-ridden crimson eyes, feeling my own burn with venom that would never fall. Never did I, in my wildest dreams, imagine that we would come to this point. I glanced around the meadow, my eyes taking note of the shredded pieces of fabric that were once my lover's clothes.

My nose twitched in rebellion, still not quite believing the stench that hung heavy in the air, suffocating me. It was her own unique aroma drifting around the clearing, yes, but at the same time it was so very wrong because it was intertwined with another more potent musk. A male vampire's scent.

I felt like I had been staked. Seriously, a kitten could have taken me out at this point and I don't think I would have cared. My brain couldn't, wouldn't, comprehend what my nose and eyes were telling me. How could she be with another? After all that we had been through. Sure, we weren't technically a true 'mated couple' in the eyes of other vampires. But I loved her. I chose her. We had both chosen each other and agreed not to search for anyone else.

We had scoffed at the others; who were they to tell us that we weren't truly fated to be together. Just because we didn't have the so called 'soul connection' that supposedly marked a true mated couple. It didn't mean anything to us. We had chosen. I was hers. She was mine. End of fucking story. Or so I had thought.

I numbly watched as an older dark-haired vampire walked up to my...nothing. My nothing. He walked up to his, for she so clearly was his, Charlotte and wrapped an arm around her. He was twitchy, constantly checking his surroundings as if the devil himself were after him. They were both naked as jay birds, reeking of sex and forest.

After a few seconds, I recognized the paranoid vampire. His name was Alistair and he was a tracker. While he wasn't nearly as precise and efficient as the Volturi's tracker Demetri, Alistair was unique in that he could track things with just a thought. He didn't have to meet the individual to be able to track them. He also wasn't limited to only being able to track specific individuals. He could simply think 'I want to find the nearest vampire to me' and he would feel an elusive pull toward what he was seeking.

Jasper and Maria had spent countless hours drilling us with known facts about all the other gifted vampires that roamed this Earth. We had to be prepared for anything, and knowing thy enemy is a wonderful strategic advantage. This is how I also knew that Alistair was one of the most asocial creatures in existence. He would go well out of his way to avoid any type of communication with others of our kind.

I silently stood there, just fucking stood there, and listened as Alistair explained that he had become bored with his lonely existence and wanted a companion to spend eternity with. All he had to do then was simply think 'I want to find my mate' and just like that, he felt the pull that led him to my other half. Six fucking words was all it took to crumble my entire existence. Oh yeah, and a little bit of boredom.

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I shook my head, trying to shake off the memory that still fucking haunted me even after 113 years, although now it haunted me for a completely different reason than before.

I turned my attention back to the crowd around me and noticed a small brunette woman pushing her way through the mob. She was dressed in a simple red sundress, hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. I watched, intrigued, as she made her way through the sea of camo, pushing men out of her way left and right. Well, I think that's what she intended to do, anyway. What actually happened, was that the males noticed her efforts, gave her a condescending smile, and moved over to allow her passage. And then I heard her voice for the first time.

"Stupid fucking rednecks."

I smiled then, the first real smile to pass over my face in years, and set off to follow the captivating creature who provoked it.

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