I never really thought about how much my job really affected my personal life. Hell. I didn't really have a personal life, all because of how much I worked, how cautious I had to be, and the fact that not even my parents knew that I was still alive. Anyone in this job, well, least to say, if you had anyone that might know inside info and they're outsiders, you had to completely cut them off. Me, I decided to have a false death certificate and whatnot to make them think I died. Great way to go, Dumb-Dumb-Demyx.

Oh. I almost forgot. Hi, I'm Demyx Sumic, Special Agent of ICS, Investigations and Control of the Supernatural, Vampire Control special agent (we're called Hunters) extrordinaire. Now, that's a tad bit of a mouthful, so let me cut it down a little bit. I'm a vampire control officer for a control group for the supernatural beings. I capture vampires that cause problems, get my pay check, and play the sitar when I'm bored. I have a special condition, too. Several, actually. The first is that I'm Technologically Retarded. The other is that I can see and feel sound. It's called Synasthesia, and it's pretty cool, but I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy, either. It's hell at times, but it is the main reason why I am so connected with music (notice that my family name is an anagram of music).

Anyway, I need to continue this before my computer decides it hates me again and I need to request for my nerdy partner to fix it for the 13th time this month. I swear to god, he's a friggen genius, Vexen is. Funky thing about Vexen, though, is that he's friggen scary as hell when he laughs, and I don't think he even leaves the ICS building at all. Rumor is that he lives in the lab in the basement, but every one's too scared to ask him about it. Lexaeus is another partner in my team, too. Big guy, all brawn, but everyone thinks he's stupid. He isn't stupid, he's just really quiet. There's two more people in my group, too. Luxord, big time gambler and drunkard Brit. He's great when you want to have someone on the inside, pretending to be a drunk vampire, but you don't want him there because he'd get drunk before the assignment even arrived. And finally, our group leader, Xigbar. He's very fun to be around, and he looks like a pirate, except for when he decides that he's interested in people and decides to follow them around until he corners them in a bathroom. I mean, he honestly has 4 restraining orders up against him.

Well, guess what, guys. New assignment has popped up! My team needs to locate a really well known vampire amongst the world. Rumors have it that he's been around for thousands of years, and he's been cutting a path through the ages. Weird thing is, though, 200 years ago, all traces of him just up and disappeared. No vampire clues that we have received have lead to him at all. He just up and vanished. And all we know about him is a handful of things from testimonies before people that recognized him were killed. His hair is blue-gray, he's short, guys think he's cute, girls think he's sexy, and he's evil as hell. All the rumors that we have of him make him seem like he's Dracula, but that's not his name. It's Zexion.

Zexion.

The reason why his file is being brought up again is because of a mass amount of deaths, all of which were in ways very similar to how Zexion slaughtered his victims. Tie them up, beat them around the face and torso, then slit their throat while he helps himself to the side of his neck. He was careful, too. No saliva. Ever. And the only way we were able to tell that blue-gray was his real color was because his hair was found at several crime scenes.

Oh well. I must be off now. The computer is starting to act up again, and I need to head back to my apartment and crash. I have a long day ahead of me.

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

For the past thousands of years, I have always mused over the idea of what it would be like to be human again, to be whole again. Innocent, frail, mortal. Instead, I have cut a gory path through the ages under the order of my Sire. We were born perfect. And just like the Great White Shark, we have never had to evolve. All 13 of us. We call our self the Organization. Just the Organization. Since the beginning, we have lost II, IV, V, IX, X, and XIII. II was the only one of the missing 6 that had vanished from our radar. We know he hasn't been killed. Some areas still reek of his filthy stench. The other 5 were killed. Surprisingly, we vampires aren't immortal; We're just hard as fuck to kill. We've been around for thousand years, and the recent 5 were picked off around 300 years ago. II left 200 years ago, and when III finds him, there's no doubt in my mind that he is going to rip out II's bleeding heart and eat it. God, I hope I don't get to see that. Oh yes, I'm a vampire cringing at the thought of a past comrade's heart being devoured by a current comrade. We may be well known for the evil shit we do, but the last 7 of us are attempting to turn the other cheek. Myself included. My turn is strange under the name of most vampires; I only drink from expired blood packs. The lingering aftertaste of the shit is fucking awful, but it gets me by without opening throats with my teeth.

"FUCK! They found us! Zexion, you better be ready to run your fucking ass off after you set off the password!"

My head jerked to Xaldin as he addressed me. "Blow me," I snarled, the pads of my fingers tapping in the password to the main computer. You see, we have a detonation system. You put in the detonation password into the main system and run like fuck, within 30 seconds, you better be over the fence if you don't want your ass to be grass. Enter.

Run. That was all the instinct you needed to have with this place now that the system was started. Go through windows, doors, the roof, I don't give a flying fuck, just get outside the fence. The shatter of glass and shouts of our pursuers and I smirked, picking up the only favorite I had before I jumped over them and through the above window, 20 feet up the wall. Hell, I'm a bibliophile, but I also obsess over my baby. Well... if you consider something sharp and pointy, whatever makes you hard, but mine is my dearly beloved Guan Dao. It's a Chinese halberd, and it's the most beautiful think I've had for over 18 centuries. Still can cleave heads in half like a knife through butter. Absolutely gorgeous. Bad thing about the Organization's diet is that we can't kill humans, even if it is to escape. Damn.

"Ten!" I shouted, notifying the Organization, and we hurried our asses while the trackers were piling theirs into a soon to destruct hideout. Nine. Leap over the line of vehicles and dodge bullets. Seven. Hit the lights and avoid helicopter vision. Five. Dogs. Four. Bullets. Three. It's 40 feet away, the fence. Two. 20 feet. One.

Over the fence just in time.

Our redhead landed next to me just as pieces of concrete started flying with the carnage of burnt flesh and screams. "How's the weather report in hell, Axel?" I inquired to the redhead with a smirk, his tall frame hanging as skinny as mine with his hedgehog hair jutting out behind his skull.

"There's no snow yet, and it's a fuckin' blazing thousand Suns temp! Whoo! What else would it be, Zexion?" shouted Axel, VII. Yeah, you can always count on the pyro for Hell's weather report. Every single time.

"Just what I like to hear," I murmured.

"Come on, dipshits. Time to go," grumbled Xaldin, III.

"Who shoved a stick up your ass?" Axel squawked.

"Axel, just move it before Marluxia bothers with your comment," I warned.

And then, we disappeared into the night. Like I said. It's a hard not life for us. How's it hanging? Crooked and a little to the right. Just the way we like it.