So I said I was going to be revamping Be The Hunter and here is the prologue, it should follow about the same story line as Be The Hunter did with a few minor tweaks, then continue off of where Be The Hunter stopped. Hope you like! Also, Homestuck most definitely does not belong to me.
Holy fucking shitballs was he plastered as fuck. The hand clutching onto his umpteenth shot of whiskey slammed it down, then back to the counter, woozily calling out for another. The barkeeper took the glass and sighed, shaking his head, "Alright, listen, I don't know what you're drinking away and, frankly, I don't care, but I'm cutting you off." Karkat groaned and flipped the guy off. "Cute. You're lucky you've already paid." Yeah, Karkat's head helpfully popped in, with a fake credit card. How mad is he gonna be when he finds out? Best not stick around to find out, he's like some kind of bull on steroids, how jacked he is.
"Fuck you, fine," he slurred, hopping off of the barstool, stumbling backwards before regaining his footing, "I'm out, you just drove away a loyal" – hic – "customer, never to return in the forever of fucking ever. Never. Never gonna come back so go shove a bottle." The inhabitants around him, if they were sober enough to comprehend, turned their heads and stifled laughter into their drinks. Knowing he'd overstayed his welcome, surprising with how drunk he was, he stumbled out the door and into the cold darkness.
How long had it been since he'd been home? It took a while for his drunk mind to process the sudden question before it slowly whirred out a 'four fucking years.' Four fucking years. He hadn't seen his siblings in a while, not even his twin sister Nepeta. His older brother Kankri could bite it, the pretentious fucking prick, and he and his cousin Muelin had never been all that close to each other. She wasn't even his cousin by birth but by marriage.
Wow, thanks universe, Karkat managed to think – blinking rapidly to get used to the blinding darkness – for reminding me of the very things I got drunk to forget. Really, ten asshole points to you because my own failures as a human being just need to be brought up to light again as if I don't already fucking know I'm a horrible piece of self-loathing shit. But that was too much thinking and cooked up a mighty fine migraine that plagued every step Karkat took. It, in fact, hurt as if Satan was shoving his giant goat hoof or whatever straight up his asshole into his intestines and all the way up to his brains.
Okay, maybe shouldn't be so casual about the mentioning of Satan, considering there are eyes and ears everywhere. Plus he didn't really know what he was mumbling out loud and what was staying in his head, being so far gone and all. Legally he wasn't allowed to drink, being 18 and all, but fake IDs were his best friends for life. He still looked like he was 12, but barkeeps in the shadier parts of town wouldn't turn down a paying customer with a seemingly legit ID, even if said customer looked, again, like he was 12-years-old. It was better than when he actually was 12 years old and had to pay homeless guys to go to the package store and buy beer for him. Now he could just go, for lack of a better expression, right to the udder.
This wasn't a good looking street his drunken mind cautioned and, to be honest, it really didn't look all that safe. There was only one streetlight and even that was flickering as if it were about to go out, there was also absolutely zero life. No people, no dogs, no cats, hell, not even any rats. The most cliché setting in which he was the frightened little girl wandering down the abandoned alley. He'd find it weird usually, but he just wanted to get home and sleep off both his drunkenness and his hangover. If he was lucky, he'd wake up about 6 PM the next day. Ah, that would be the life.
Stuck in his dreaming, his back had been shoved against the brick wall, outturned bricks digging into the small of his back. "Holy shit," he coughed, shaking his head to get his bearings, "holy fucking shit what the hell?" It took him a good couple of seconds to figure out what was happening, the metaphorical gears in his head taking a hell of a long time to turn. In front of him stood a sinfully beautiful woman with red hair that reached all the way down to her waist. Both her hair and her face drew his attention, the soothing smile quickly morphed into a sharp toothed grin. "Demon bitch," he stuttered, trying to shake out of her grasp.
She looked surprised that he knew what she was, but what the fuck else did she expect from a hunter? Albeit a rather wasted hunter, but a hunter nonetheless. It was the family business, in a way. His parents got out of that line of the work after they got married and both he and his twin were four. But after a rather rude encounter at the age of eight, his parents decided that all three of them needed to learn basic self-defense, especially against the supernatural. He and Nepeta had a special mark on them apparently, it drew the supernatural towards them and not always the benevolent type.
He began paying attention when he realized she was talking, "-and as I said, tsk tsk, very rude to call someone a bitch."
"Even if they're a demon bitch?" he slurred, giving her a shit eating grin, "also, can you repeat that, I just wasn't listening." Her lips curled into a distasteful scowl.
"You're an idiotic human," she spat, leaning closer to his neck, a vampire then, "the world should be glad that I'm getting rid of you." Before she could sink her teeth in, his knife was shoved into her abdomen. Her eyes blew out wide, almost comically wide, as her mouth went agape. Yeah, a blessed knife does that to a demon. Then her head exploded.
Okay.
That was new.
Oh, that wasn't him, thank God, that meant he wasn't getting any crazy psychic super powers or whatever. It was the work of a shotgun with a powerful kick of, what he assumed to be, silver bullet. Sliding to the ground, he saw both a masculine figure and a feminine figure standing above him, seemingly looking down to him. The masculine one gestured towards him and the feminine one shrugged, nodding. Everything went black once the masculine figure leaned down to pick him up.