I groan tiredly, my phone battery having died just as I was about to open Dimgur. Shifting my arms, I put it ontop of the air dryer I was currently using to dry my pants.

Wait, what?

Figured you'd ask that.

Spilled beer, a couple of laughs, the lack of money for either laundry or any more beer, and a sarcastic suggestion from a slightly sympathetic bartender pushed me into this four-by-four lame excuse for a restroom. The lightbulb was hanging by a thread from the bare concrete ceiling, while the walls were desperately covered in yellowish white tiles so as to make up for the overall barebones appearance of the "room". The toilet smelled like a very interesting night at Taco Meow, and the sink's was basin coated by a light film of black grime. The floor was a mess of dirt, beer, and little bits of vomit scattered in the corners.

One of the best restrooms I've been in, lately.

This wasn't another case of "I live with my parents and don't work", mind you; I had a way better explanation than that junk.

Vampires.

I shifted some of my weight to the dirty sink, being careful so as to not detach it from the wall, and began to ponder on how the hell I got where I am right now.

It was about nine months ago when I became penniless and subsequently homeless, but the real shit dated back a year ago. Everyone had always known they were watching, them, and others, looking to either control us or simply have their own twisted version of "fun" with whatever "mortal" they could find. Nobody thought they'd actually follow through with it, though.

Simply put, they fucked us hard. Easy to do that when you can lift /three fucking tons/ without sweating. Whatever sembleance of classical vampirism I had in mind vanished the second I saw a vampire, washed over with sun rays from a high-noon, take a fifty cal. to the face and only stumble backwards for a second before ripping the poor grunt a new one. No conventional bullshit seemed to work - garlic was useless. Stakes only annoyed them, like toothpicks. Silver, holy water, all of that did /not work/.

They were still killable, sure. Decapitation did the job, for as long as you kept the head AWAY from the neck stump. Anything else was a mere inconvenience to them.

One month in, they had a third of the States under their cliched vampy cloaks. Who would have thought that they'd have infiltrated the government? Nobody, really, 'cause we're all idiots. I have no clue as to how well the rest of the world is faring against them, but it's probably "not swimmingly" at this point.

Three months in, just as I was preparing to get the hell out of dodge, they decided to fuck around 'covertly' in my city. Let's just say that a presumed prank on their part ended up with my neighborhood being reduced to ashes, and with me being the one found guilty of such catastrophe, /somehow/.

Maybe I'm just an unlucky bitch.

I began to move towards Canada, hiking through sewer systems and bribing the few cops who saw me with whatever money I had left from my "old life", or simply outrunning them. It was a good workout.

Four months in, they had already gotten to the white house. A nation-wide cease fire of sorts was engaged for nothing but a week before we started thrashing against the cages of our new vampiric overlords like animals. Wasn't pleasant to watch the media try talk about it.

Fast-forward the remaining eight months, and you have... normalcy. They weren't slaughtering us like livestock (as far as the media covered) and they weren't imposing many harsh laws against us. Vampires integrated openly in the economy, and whatever humans were left off the hook got back to their daily lives - with twists, of course - and everything seemed to be going well.

Was it?

It fucking was.

Can't say the same for myself, though. I still had a bounty on my head for supposedly burning my entire neighborhood to the ground with an invisible matchstick (the bounty hunters themselves acknowledged that they knew I didn't do shit, but tried to get me anyways) and I had no relatives, no friends, no contacts, no resources. Nada.

...except for a cellphone with a charger, worn clothes, a pocket knife, and whatever pride I had left.

Not much, by the way.

I turned my attention from my own thoughts to the noises I was hearing from behind the door. Muffled grunts, shouts, glass and wood breaking. It /was/ a pub, and a sketchy one at that, so I decided to chalk up a bar fight to my "Don't care" list and carry on with drying my fucking pants in an eye roll. Wasn't long after that I heard a gunshot from whatever rusty double-barrel the locals had pierce the monotony of a fight they had going on there. I was curious, now. This was serious shit, either beef from the local gangs or something else entirely. Now that I think about it, it /could/ be that rusty double-barrel the bartender had behind the counter.

That is a possibility.

Not moving from my spot, I continued to listen for the fight outside. Nothing but more generic bar fight noises sounded until someone's pained scream sounded loudly, almost as if there was no door separating pantless me from bar-fighting them. I doubted any of the thugs I'd seen earlier would have sounded off a noise like that, even if they were in distress. I shuffled in place, still not moving as I heard the commotion outside get more intense, until it abruptly stopped. Nothing but the sound of the air dryer next to me was reaching my ears.

At that point I had gotten my pants away from the dryer and struggled to hear any footsteps outside. And hear I did.

They were wearing sneakers (who the fuck wears sneakers to a massacre?), judging by the noise. More than a pair of calculated footsteps emanated ever closer to my hiding place, almost as if they were teasing me. I rolled my eyes at their subtletly.

As the sounds died down again, I could count at least four people outside by the time which their footsteps died down. I was staring, holding my (now dry!) pants in my grasp as I waited for their move.

But nothing happened. Ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute. They just stood there. I suppressed a scoff and strained my ears to hear what they were doing, and I could hear hushed whispers and exchanges. Didn't really make a lot of sense, but hey, life is unpredictable.

And then they defied logic itself by simply knocking on the fucking door. It was a calm, hesitant knock, almost as if they wished to use the potty themselves. Before I could react, an equally hesitant voice sounded from the other side. It was a woman's, and judging by the lack of an even remotely frightened undertone, she had took part in the deed of silencing everyone else in the establishment.

"You okay in there?"

I didn't answer, choosing instead to noisily put my pants back on, letting the sound clue her in, shaking my head.

She spoke again a couple of seconds later, just as I had gotten to the zipper. "...you were on the toilet during all of this?" She asked, confused and slightly exasperated.

I made a slow, yet grand spectacle of zipping up.

"Look, I know that you're scared, but we won't hurt you, alright? Just unlock the door, please."

My previous disposition had already morphed into my usual one as I brushed away the effects of her rather impressively compelling domination spell, quickly realizing I was dealing with professionals. Deciding to humor her, I casually straightened my shoulder-length hair, pocketed my cellphone, and took slow steps towards the door. It only took two, so it wasn't as dramatic as I'd hoped.

Seeing as how the vampire didn't speak again, I sighed, scrunching up my face as usual and turning the lock, and then the knob itself as the door opened inside the already ludicrously small restroom. Peeking out from behind it, I gathered sight of four (nailedit) relatively young, yet stoical vampires, two male and two female. They were all wearing casual clothes, as usual; the woman I spoke to wore a thin gray hoodie, black pants, and sneakers. I didn't pay the others any mind as I stared deep into her eyes as soon as I could, my "How ya doin'?" expression full on, with a hint of annoyance to spice it up.

It was fucking priceless to watch her previously curious glowing crimson-red eyes widen, and her jaw utterly hit the fucking floor. She knew of me, apparently.

She was pretty, to be honest. Long, pitch-black hair, pale complexion that every vampire seems to have, that charming youngish upper-class air about her. But all of that mattered nothing as her current expression almost made me laugh out loud at her perplexed fright.

Raising an eyebrow at her, with the sassiest, cruelest smirk I could muster, I spoke in a perfectly even tone, with hints of amusement.

"The maid, huh?" I chuckled as condescendingly as I could. "You'd better come on in, this place is an absolute /mess/."

Before she could react, I shot a hand out and grabbed her collar, throwing her in the tiny bathroom, screaming, with me, and slamming the door behind myself. She immediately tried to fight back with her lightning-quick reflexes, but I wasn't all that bad at catfighting, anticipating her moves. Her friends were too stunned to react to this, apparently, as I detected no attempts to breach the door yet. Her strength did nothing to help her as I pressed my arms against her smooth throat, squeezing tightly whenever she tried to pry my arms off her and then lifting her off the ground. Holding her in a half-hearted chokehold a five year old could have gotten out of, I decided to introduce myself in the most harmless way I could imagine - to a vampire, that is.

And that, friends, is how I snapped the neck of a three-ton-lifting, bullet-quick, trauma-proof immortal.