Author's note: Decided to write this quick story based on a writing prompt, and so the word chosen was "bullet." This takes place in the 21st century and in the third LB movie timeline, where a middle-aged Alan Frog is a half vampire.
The first time Alan appreciated being a half vampire was on the night he was shot.
Hunkered in his dimly lit, cramped office in the middle of the night, working on his latest assignment which involved a Kodiak Bear, Alan was pleased to receive such a huge parcel. A creature who stood ten feet tall and weighed about fifteen-hundred pounds offered a lot of blood; blood that Alan could use to help sustain his urge to kill.
The doorknob rattled behind him.
Alan lowered his bloody scalpel blade and held his breath. It wasn't his brother, Edgar, whom he seldom saw these days. Besides, Edgar always called beforehand, as Alan hated random visits. Despite his sheer will to control his vampire side, Alan feared accidentally losing control. He vowed that until the day he tracked down the son of a bitch bloodsucker who made him this way and destroyed him, he would not feed on any human being. Thus he stayed away from society in general. Unless it was through his work as a taxidermist, which was his main source of obtaining animal blood along with steady income, he was a more or less a hermit. It wasn't the most ideal life, but he would rather live alone than risk being an undead murderer.
Someone cursed behind the door. It sounded like a man.
Just as Alan rose from his chair and turned around, gunfire exploded from outside his office. He dove to the ground and covered his head with his arms. An eerie silence fell over the room, and when he took a chance to examine what happened, he noticed a small hole next to the doorknob.
Bullet.
A burning, irritating sensation throbbed from his stomach. Gradually he sat up off the floor and saw a deep red stain pooling through his apron.
Blood.
The knob once again jiggled, but it was followed with a hard bang. The door busted open and a haggard middle aged drifter stumbled his way into the office and in his possession was a handgun. Alan could smell the recently fired gunpowder so acutely along with heavy alcohol. This man was nobody that Alan recognized before, but he sure as shit was going to regret picking this place to break into.
Without even thinking twice, Alan rose to his feet and faced the intoxicated wanderer before he could encroach any further. Alan's eyes gave off a sinister glow and his face was distorted, shaped into that of a devilish monster. A sober human would have more than likely screamed and backed away, but the trespasser only staggered back a few feet before attempting to raise his weapon.
Alan stepped toward him and wrapped his fingers over the hot barrel just before any pistol whipping could take place. With a simple squeeze, the steel barrel was bent in half. It didn't stop the drifter from struggling to squeeze the trigger regardless, but Alan's movements were mercilessly swift. He slapped the weapon out of the man's hand before giving him a hard shove. This move sent the man flying back into the wall. The back of his head cracked hard and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Alan wasted no time in grabbing him and dragging him outside. The streets were dark and never once has the electric company stopped by to fix any of the neighboring lights. It offered more than enough coverage for the half vampire as he hauled the insentient drifter a few blocks away. As he went through the motions of shoving him into a garbage container behind a condemned building, the nagging urge to bite him rose. Even with the filthy and soiled clothing, along with the grime that caked the drifter's flesh like second skin, the smell of his blood tormented the persistent hunger that tested Alan's humanity.
All it would take was one bite and he would be relieved of the constant ache that threatened to drive him insane on a daily basis.
SLAM!
The heavy lid crashed down over the container and Alan pushed himself away. He walked with purpose down the lonely streets, back to his office, taking deep breaths of air with each step he took. Just before he stepped back inside, he stopped. He removed his stained apron and lifted his shirt to inspect the damage. To his amazement, there was no indication that he'd been shot. His skin, while somewhat pale from not being out in the sun for a number of years, was clear of any wounds. There wasn't even a scar.
Once in the office, Alan found the bullet on the floor which was covered in his blood. If he'd been completely human, it was possible that bullet would have ruptured a vital organ. He could have bled out on the floor while writhing in absolute misery.
He could have died.
"You win this round," Alan muttered to his inner vampire.