Disclaimer: I own little used within.

So starts the third and last installment of my little series. It has had a good little run, hasn't it?

I've noticed other people putting theirs up... that's cool.

Notes about my fic, in case you happen to be a first time reader or just for a refresher:

NO slash in this. No intentional yaoi at all. None. FYI: hugs, carrying unconscious people, holds used in fighting, etc., aren't slash. No matter how much you wish they were. (;

No really super-main OCs. The four main characters in this fic are Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy. There are OCs... OCs galore... but none will ever become as main and storyline-impacting as the vigilantes. Sorel, maybe, but he's the main villain.

The T rating is mainly for violence and swearing or anything else offensive that has to do with language (sexual references... but no real sex).

The fic is mainly action, angst, and humor. Kind of adventure, I guess. Now that I think about it, there isn't really any romance at all. Mainly because I'm not all that good at writing romance... when I do, it feels (by that I mean the characters) either cheesy or robotic. Besides, with four main characters being men in a non-slash fic, there's not a lot of options for romance.

I'm sorry for the Gerard and Mikey fans, but their facetime will be decreased in this fic. But don't worry, I'm not abandoning them. I'll give you a nice overview of some people going to be in this fic... Amy Lee fans, lead-singer-of-Avenged-Sevenfold fans, you're both in luck. They will become relatively important supporting characters. 30 Seconds To Mars fans (if there are any here), you'll like what I'll be doing with them too, I think. Gym Class Heroes fans, you're in for a nasty surprise... courtesy of my cowriter. Spoilers for characters end here.

Ah... the ending? Indeed, every fic needs one. How will I end it? All I will say for now is that my cowriter and I have it well planned out.


Pete stood tall, much to the surprise of his half-drunk onlookers. In this little underground fight club/bar that was ill-lit and smelling of beer, Pete was winning the round at hand, despite his opponent being not only a crowd favorite but bigger than Pete as well.

"C'mon! Kick his puny arse!"

"Why's he gettin' up?"

"Beat the shrimpy vamp already!"

These hecklers didn't do anything to Pete but make him smile. He was winning, they were nervous, and their money was not on Pete.

The other tipsy fighter charged in the small caged-in ring. He was heavily beaten, face bleeding and body bruised. But Pete had barely suffered a couple of lucky punches. And he wouldn't suffer another, considering that his foot just made hard contact with the enraged man's face. This deemed Pete the winner.

A smiling Pete was able to exit the makeshift ring with ease (confident in his abilities, he hadn't even bothered to take his T-shirt off). "Excuse me, coming through, trying to work through this crowd…" Pete shoved through the crowd as they gave him dirty looks. "Excuse me, coming through, want my cash…"

"Hi!" An also smiling Patrick greeted Pete. "We are making more money in these few hours than I did in the entire stretch of my first job in high school," Patrick made a show of waving their earnings so far at Pete. This was unusual, considering that Patrick rarely liked to make a show of anything except for his hand-made, high-tech weaponry. "This must be our lucky place or something. Good thing it's one that lets vampires fight." Patrick kept his black baseball cap (another one of his ever-present caps) shadowing his eyes, whether to look more mysterious for the part of the one handling the bets or just because he was used to it drooping into his eyes after years of this.

Pete looked over at Andrew and Joe, who were standing besides Patrick. "You're up, Andrew,"

"Again?" Andrew made a face. "Wasn't I just up a few minutes ago?"

"YES," Joe answered for Pete. "Doesn't change the fact that we are plowing through these drunken people who think they can beat us in mere minutes."

Andrew whined and walked over to the ring. Pete didn't bother turning his attention to the fight; he knew they would win in any and all of the matches they were in. Patrick was quickly making bets on Andrew.

Joe was drinking a bottle of beer. But this wasn't enough to keep him occupied. "Patrick, what are we doing after this?"

"I just told you a minute ago! We're going to go get that RV from the guys in the junk yard. Then, we, uh, get started on our ingredients, I guess…" Patrick said, thinking of the extensive ingredients they were assigned to get for the cure. They had half the list already, but the rest they'd have to travel for.

As Pete thought of becoming a human again, he felt the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he got whenever he thought of the vampirism cure now that they were so close. It was a strange hunger, and one thing in particular that had contributed to this strange hunger was a different one that he had been feeling lately… the one thing Pete had wished he would never get… the one temptation… the one that came whenever he looked at Joe, Andrew, Patrick, or ANY human lately… the lust for their red-

"HAHA! I WIN!" Andrew broke Pete free from his thoughts. "And I TOTALLY beat the crap out of your record!"

"How much money is that?" Pete asked Patrick.

"Exactly six thousand dollars," Patrick said. "I think we're done. We have enough money to get by on the trip with ample food, medical supplies, weaponry… and maybe a few new pieces of clothing…" He pointed to Pete's white T-shirt, which was worn out, discolored, and fraying at the collar and sleeves.

"These guys are so drunk," Joe laughed. "We've each won three fights, and I might go in for one more! You'd think they'd realize we're the strongest fighters here tonight!"

"Let's go again! Let's go again!" Andrew chanted.

"No wait! Let's get a drink first!" Joe declared. "Looking at all these happy drunkards, I feel like I'm missing out on something."

And so they flocked the fifteen feet or so to the side to the bar. Patrick got the attention of one of the three bartenders. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, and (contrasting) pale-skinned young woman about their age. And she was also very familiar.

"Uh, do I uh, know you?" Patrick asked.

"Depends." She finally looked up at him and smiled, revealing a row of vampire teeth. "What if I were to mention a whip and some knife-equipped brass knuckles?"

"Hana! I remember you now!"

"Huh, who- oh my…! Don't attack us! We'll fight you!" Joe struck a ready-to-fight pose, making the others laugh. He laughed, too, even though he was only half-joking.

Hana fiddled with glasses, pouring beer for another already-drunk man. "You can do that, but I don't do that anymore. It got to be too tiring, and the Punks disbanded anyway…" She trailed off, but it wasn't long before she spoke again. "Am I the only one who noticed the sudden decrease of people here? When I went to the edge of town, the population sign said five-thousand… but someone crossed out one zero…"

"Yyyeah…" Patrick said, sighing. "There was this guy who came in, Sorel, and he was-"

"I know who he was," She interrupted.

"Oooooo-kayyy…" Patrick looked to the side awkwardly. "So, we're going to leave town soon… what are you planning on doing with your afterlife?"

"My plan…" She smiled. "Is to continue bartending and stay here until EVERY SINGLE person has left. Then I'll loot the houses and shops for what their worth (if anything) and then… I don't know, go to college."

Joe picked up four beers that Hana had put out in front of them. He held one towards Patrick, waiting for him to take it.

"Sounds good," Patrick was anxious to break off the conversation that still had yet to find a good ice-breaker and probably never would. "So, yeah we're going to get going. We have enough money from tonight..." Patrick ignored Joe as he waved the bottle at Patrick, still waiting for him to take it. "And, uh, then maybe when we meet up again if we come back to town or nearby the town or something- Dude, STOP, I see it! Gimme me a minute! Uh… never mind. We have to go." Awkward pause. At least, before Joe's waving of the bottle got so fast that he almost hit Patrick in the face, laughing. "QUIT IT! So, bye. Good luck." Patrick turned and left. Joe and Andrew followed, but Pete stuck around for a few more seconds.

"Don't get dusted before I have the chance to do it," he smiled at Hana.

"You too, asshole." She quipped. When they were gone, she continued absentmindedly serving beer and ignored the latest fighter to get hurled ten feet into the air.

"Two beers, please," A man's voice said. Hana gave beer to the short-haired man with tattoos showing from under his black short sleeve shirt. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, despite his being inside a poorly lit bar.

He handed the other beer to his friend, a shorter, skinnier, smiling man with gelled hair.

"Forgetting something?!" Hana snarled, sticking her open palm out.

He lowered his sunglasses and glanced at her teeth. "Right… sorry." He slapped eight dollar bills into her hand and then swiftly with the other hand staked her in the chest.

"WHAT THE…?!" She screamed before disintegrating. She had time to look around frantically, but no one was (or could) help her or even hear her over the commotion of the bustling bar.

"Keep the change," The man said before she was gone.

His comrade laughed. "And she sure won't need it where she's going!"

The tattooed one turned to look at him. And he continued staring for about a minute.

"Uh… what's up?" His companion said nervously.

"Nothing." Last time I go for 'Partners: Half-price'.


The vigilantes were just about to activate their Super Awesome Plan for Getting the RV. It was: go so fast that the guys in the junk yard don't know what to do.

But the 'Junk Yard Heroes' were their friends… they weren't trying to swindle them. But it was crucial to the four vampire hunters that they got what they needed for their trip. And they get it a lot easier if Travis kept by his "everything is two dollars" rule.

So they were running down the sidewalk that was on the side of the chain-ink fence of the junkyard, ready to burst in. Pete led, with Joe and Andrew closely following, and Patrick covering the rear (he wasn't quite as fast as the others).

When they went through the open entrance, Travis was seeing if the hood of his sweatshirt could fit over his overly poofy hair. Disashi was asking Matt if wearing a do-rag made him look like a complete idiot. Eric was pounding a copier machine with a sledgehammer and throwing parts of it into the most recent scrap pile.

"Travis! How much is anything in the junkyard!" Pete yelled as he ran past Travis and over a small mound of metal.

"Hey, Pete," Travis huffed. "EVERYTHING is TWO DOLLARS. Don't you get it?"

Exactly ten seconds and the sound of a car door opening and shutting later, a fair-sized RV drove by Travis.

"Here you go!" Andrew was driving and he threw a five-dollar bill at Travis. "Keep the change!"

"HEY! YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT! WE WORKED HARD TO RESTORE THAT!" Travis yelled after them.

Pete opened up the back window of the large vehicle. "We left the Vigilante Mobile if you want to restore that!"

Travis, Matt, Disashi, and Eric all turned to look at a banged-up vehicle with a smashed front bumper and headlights, crumpled hood, and bad dents in the side.

"It needs engine work! The engine spurted!" Joe yelled out at the window, shoving his way out next to Pete.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" Disashi shouted after them.

"TO GET A CURE FOR VAMPIRISM!" Pete had to respond louder than before, as they were exiting the junkyard. "WE'LL BE BACK GOD KNOWS WHEN!"


"Now this is as simple as I think it is, correct?" Sorel crossed his arms over his worn black leather jacket.

"For the most part," The young man in front of him responded. But he wasn't looking at Sorel. His strangely bright blue eyes were looking over four pieces of paper. "Now let's review this, and cover the details as well." When he said that, two out of his three companions stirred. One with dark hair combed over one eye got out a notepad and one with brown hair that stuck out in different directions whipped out a calculator.

The one Sorel was talking to cleared his throat and put down the papers to look at Sorel now. He thrusted his head back to flip a lock of his long black hair away from his face. "Four guys. About our age. Heights between them averaging out to be slightly below average height." When he talked, the one with the notebook scribbled with high speed. "Weights averaging out to be slightly underweight. Oh, good. Shouldn't be too hard to take them down."

"It won't, with you four, my lieutenants, and I." Sorel gestured behind him to where Gerard and Mikey, his loyal lieutenants, stood.

The man in front of him held up his finger. "Please, I'm not done. They are Caucasian, well-armed, good fighters OR good with weaponry and/or technology and one hates bats, correct?"

"Uh, correct," Sorel said. He wasn't used to being 'shushed' by a stranger, and would've acted in a violent manner, but figured he couldn't afford to lose this opportunity.

"Now, let's talk price…" He continued. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, Jared, I wanted to offer you 250 grand per head."

The man now known as Jared couldn't quite keep the eager smile of his face. His bounty-hunting group was famous, mainly for their good service but also a little bit for the fact that their prices were very fair: the prices were to be given by the customers. If they needed tweaking, Jared and his group had no problem doing so, but the general idea was that the customers set the price.

"Again, shouldn't be too-"

"Provided you do it right." Sorel snapped, interrupting Jared and once again taking the role of the pack leader in the room.

"Well, of course. What are your guidelines?"

Sorel leaned forward. "I want them ALIVE, you hear? ESPECIALLY the vampiric one. If you don't bring one or more of the others back alive, your pay will get docked by a large amount, but… you'll live." Sorel paused before talking again. "To put it simply, four of them, to me, captured but alive, full pay. Anyone but Pete killed, pay docked for each head killed. Pete killed, you don't get a single cent, even if the others are alive. If you fail altogether, meaning if any escape, you leave with nothing." Sorel leaned forward closer to Jared's face. "ABSOLUTELY nothing… get my drift?"

"Yes, of course, but we aren't done discussing things," Jared said nervously, looking away from Sorel now and to his friend with the calculator. He nodded at him and then looked back to Sorel. "I mean, there are some… extra costs."

"Extra?!" Sorel growled.

"Yes indeed. Extra." Another thing these bounty hunters were famous for (or rather, infamous for here) was tacking on extra costs to their pay, since they're customer-friendly as far as payment otherwise goes. And the word that went around was that the extras were often ridiculous and held no real point in the mission. "We'll need to be CLEAN, won't we? I'd sayyyy… two three-packs of lavender soap should do it…" The one with the calculator pressed buttons as Jared named items. "And energy! Two cans of instant coffee and four four-packs of Jack Russell energy drinks… purple flavor. Oh, and we need a little bottle of Windex for cleaning our swords."

Sorel sneered at the extra prices, but didn't demand that they were taken away. These bounty hunters were the surest way that Sorel knew of that would allow him to soon detain all four of the annoying vigilantes alive. Alive, of course, so he could torture them and watch them die a slow and painful death at his hand. Whether Pete, the vampire, was going to be staked after all this so he could watch was still up in the air. It all depended on if Sorel had the time, really… after all, who has time for quality torture these days?

Gerard rolled his eyes and whispered to Sorel, "I told you they were going to do this!"

"Shut up, you!" Sorel spat back. "Or I'll add your head to the list."

Gerard nodded with a hint of nervousness exposed. But Sorel would never add Mikey's and my head to the list… we're his last lieutenants. We're almost his last members of the gang , anyway. So he wouldn't add us. Of course not. Right? Right. Duh. Of course. He has no reason… right.

"So, do we have a deal? We'll bill you with the extra prices at the end of the mission." Jared stuck out his hand towards Sorel.

"Yes, we do," Sorel shook his hand and smiled eagerly.

"Fine," Jared said.

"Fine," Sorel said.

"Dandy," Jared said.

Sorel had to restrain himself from grabbing Jared by the head. "DON'T EVER USE THAT WORD!"