Grimsley has very little physical or magical strength. He's a bit of a pansy, actually. The fact that he utterly believes himself to be a vampire means he psychologically believes he is weaker in sunlight, so any sort of fight going on in the daylight would have him crawling around the floor whining about how his skin is burning off. He is actually allergic to garlic, though, which doesn't help this madness at all. It may not burn him, but it certainly gives him a nasty rash which is enough to convince him that he's actually being damaged spiritually. He'd always try to drink blood from other people, but he'd never been able to pierce the skin before they woke up.
He'd always been one for Halloween though, and that was just what was coming up. It was the perfect time to feel normal. Just like Morty, he'd always be able to see ghosts. Only on Halloween was it acceptable though. This time, he was going to take great advantage.
He'd never been able to step outside, and he didn't ever plan on doing it in sunlight. If he wasn't so worried about becoming weak and not being able to survive. Though, he wasn't very strong for a vampire. He was just very spoilt and uptight. Years of being made fun of for being anaemic and such when he was younger had made him turn out like this. He was a very messed up child. But, did that matter?
"Are you scared of the dark, of the monsters that live there?" his voice chimed as he wandered down the dimly lit street. The night before Halloween, and he was out. Out looking for prey, for someone who knew how he felt. He felt strong. Like he could defeat even the toughest boss, like he could beat Alder. Like he was alive again.
Of course, he was never dead. He just thought that he was. Being a 'Vampire' he'd always had stupid little ideas about things, and added them to his personality as he grew. He wasn't antisocial though, so to speak, he was just not a friendly person. He never would be, and everywhere he went, an eerie gloom followed him.
Most people were put off by this, though it didn't matter. Friends, who needs them? Definitely not Grimsley. He even had his own theme music. It played over for hours and hours at his house, and he had learnt how to whistle it. It wasn't a needed skill, but it was one of many things that he'd added to his personality.
Twirling on a lamppost, a little girl in a witch costume approached him.
"Hey mister, I like your costume! You look like a real vampire." She said, moving back from the man. Grimsley was bearing his teeth, which he'd ever so conveniently had filed down so he could look more like a vampire. It was scaring the little girl, and he loved every minute of it.
"It's not a costume, dear." He chimed. He was humming a very creepy circus theme. He'd always called it his own song, but it was more of a simple theme than a song.
"Don't l-lie!" The child complained. All of the signs pointed to Grimsley being a real vampire, but she was innocent and stubborn and naïve. She wasn't going to believe it.
"I don't have to." He chuckled. The voice pierced the silent night, probably scarring the girl. She was gone within the blink of an eye.
He was off again. Off in search of someone like him. Halloween wasn't there yet, there was still time.