About two weeks after we had dealt with the Jouroguomo and the six werewolves that had stormed into Framboise's apartment, I found myself in the Adirondack mountain range. Why were we up there you ask? Well the locals had been plagued by a '"bear attack," but bears leave evidence of their attacks. Hands, legs, torsos, something that can be identified. Fortunately, one of the officers up there wasn't stupid, and had made a call. That call was to Earl Harbinger down in Cazador, who had relayed the message to us. So that's why Terry Creed had taken Matt, Rocky, Thom, Isabelle, and myself up to the Adirondacks.

It was about 4 in the afternoon, and raining like God had decided to wash away all of humanity like he did in the tale of Noah's Arc by the time we had arrived. The officer that had called Earl Harbinger was waiting for us outside his station. The officer had a bomber jacket similar to Earl's over his uniform, and the wide brimmed officer hat one normally sees in outer county's was due to the rain, completely soaked He like most people who live in central and upstate New York had that weathered look of being used to the bad weather, but still hating it with a passion.

"Pat Martin?" The officer asked Creed as he stepped out of the drivers side of one of the two SUV's that we had driven up.

"No sir, Terry Creed. Temporary team lead." Creed replied, as the rest of us stepped out of the SUV's.

"Simon Baird." The officer replied, shaking Creed's hand. I learned later that everyone around here called him The Bear or simply Bear. "I'm the Sheriff in this county, and obviously the one who called your boss who directed me to your team lead."

"Which leads me to my next question," Creed began adjusting the cap on his head. "How do you know Harbinger?"

Sheriff Baird reached into his jacket and pulled out a well worn business card, which I recognised as the same business card that Matt and I had been given when Alex and clare had recruited us. "This isn't the first werewolf I've dealt with. Earl tried recruiting me a few years back, but I enjoyed being an officer of the law too much at the time, and still do. Still though, it's been years since anything like this has happened up here. But let's not stand around in the rain freezing our nuts off, come on inside and I'll explain."

Sheriff Baird led us into the station, and into a small briefing/conference room. There were maps of the area, and photos of the multiple crime scenes that made horror movies look tame. In every photo, there was blood everywhere, but no body parts, or human remains at all except all that blood.

"These are bad." I said, looking at several of the crime scene photos, and holding back a shudder at one in particular. I was looking at a photo of a tent that was ripped to shreds, and four separate sleeping bags. Two of which were kid-sized. This wolf had targeted families.

"It gets worse." Sheriff Baird said setting three mangled gold police badges onto the table in the center of the room. "I lost three lieutenants and a deputy to this damn wolf. I lost lieutenant Williams and deputy Shavers two months ago. Last month it was lieutenant Grissom, and it was yesterday that I lost my third but best lieutenant in Wilkins."

"So let me get this straight," Isabelle frowned, and crossed her arms. "You had a run in with a werewolf in the past, so therefore you know the signs of a werewolf attack. However, you don't call us right away, and instead send your own men to the scenes, and to their subsequent deaths."

Baird's hand gripped one of the mangled badges, so that his knuckles were white. "I have the balls to admit that I fucked up. But there was a small underlying circumstance in this FUBAR situation."

"And that would be what?" Isabelle asked in a disgusted tone, looking like she might punch Sheriff Baird.

"A hunting company came through last week asking about the recent 'attacks'." Baird replied.

"Another hunting company?" Creed asked, placing his soaked cap back on his head after wringing the water out of it. "What did they call themselves?"

"Paranormal Tactical or something along those lines." Baird replied, causing both Creed and Isabelle to scoff.

"You accepted the help of those ammetures?" Creed asked, shaking his head.

"They offered to help, and I was in no position to refuse. I'd already lost two lieutenants and a deputy by that point, not to mention that this werewolf has claimed fifteen victims in two months." Baird replied.

"Alright, now you know not to accept help from dime-a-dozen companies like Paranormal Tactical. You want a solution to your problem, you call our company first, because we'll save you a lot of stress, paperwork, and manpower. Oh and not to mention, we'll actually get the job done." I gotta hand it to Creed, he's a pretty good speaker.

"Alright Mr. Creed, I see your point," Baird began. "Now would you please take care of my problem before anymore innocent people get brutalized by this werewolf?"

"Gladly," Sheriff Baird said before pointing at the map of the county. "There are a couple camps around Sarnac Lake. That's where all the attacks happened. My best guess is he's holed up in this area here. It's real thick forest, where the choppers can't see."

"Perfect." Creed scoffed.

"Oh it get's better. Ever see the Blair Witch Project?"

"Aw fuck." Rocky groaned.

"Let me guess," Creed began. "Run down creepy-ass cabin right in the center of that thick forest?"

"And we have a winner." Baird said. "Locals won't go near it, and warn everybody camping out there to stay away from it as well. If that werewolf is anywhere in those woods, dollars to doughnuts it's hiding out in that cabin in between transformations and moon cycles."

"Can we set that cabin on fire once we're finished?" I asked, pushing away the crime scene photos. I honestly couldn't stand looking at them anymore, my stomach was churning so bad.

"If you have explosives, I'd prefer you demolish that fucking place." Baird replied.

"That we can do." Creed replied.

"I'll drive you out there." Baird said, in a resigned tone. I couldn't tell if he was more against going out to the site of the wolf attacks, or going back out in the rain. But hey, at least it wasn't the snow.

Okay you know what? I take that back. The rain sucked just as bad. Especially if you consider where we were. A mountain range in northern New York, we were going into a forest where the damn rain comes down even harder for some reason, oh not to mention that it was late September, and the weather begins fluctuating something crazy during the transition months from summer to fall and finally winter. So this particular day was wet, and freezing. Oh and if I hadn't mentioned it before, the rain was coming down like God had decided to flood the entire world once again.

Nobody was happy as we got our armor on, and our gear assembled. We were all trying to use the hatch-back of the SUVs to keep ourselves dry. Yeah, didn't really work out too well. I was in the process of securing one of my tac-vests, when Creed stopped me.

"Switch to your marksman vest, and bring out your new toy. It's time to break that beauty in."

What Creed had meant by that, was my new REPR.

Now to further continue telling this story, I have to go back and tell you another story first, so that you can fully understand just how I came to own the beautiful .308 rifle that is my new REPR.

So it happens a few days after Matt and Mine's little stunt at Framboise's apartment. Pat was miffed yea, but more miffed that the two of us had went off on our own without waiting for the team to assemble their gear. But to that end, if we hadn't rushed off like we did, Framboise would have been liquified. But nobody civilian-wise had gotten hurt, and the only casualties were the six werewolves, and the Jouroguomo that had evaded us in Portland.

And to that end, I had tried reading up on what those things were, and what Kai had told us back in Portland was exactly what every site I had gone to had said. For a near extinct species of monster, they weren't as durable as oh say a vampire. I mean the one Matt and I had killed had taken ten rounds from a .45 caliber handgun. Oh wait, no I'm wrong, it took twenty. But still these things aren't one of the most durable of supernatural creatures out there.

But anyways, I was where I usually was in the compound. If you guessed it was the armory, than you win the grand prize. I wasn't doing anything special this time, just refilling my CQC tac-vest with more Uzi mags. Anyways, I became aware that I wasn't the only one in the compound's armory. And that's how I ended up aiming my baby Sig at Riza.

"Easy kid, she's with us." Earl Harbinger's voice came from behind the werewolf, before the companies acting director stepped into the armory followed by the rest of his team.

I took my finger off the trigger, but didn't lower my Sig. I was weighing the options of shooting Riza right here and now. Might have been Earl Harbinger's say so. And despite her being some sort of mole in her pack, she was to my knowledge at that point still part of the pack that was gunning for me and Matt. And if I was not mistaken, she was still on the Puff list. So, werewolf and potential mole for her pack, who's new alpha wanted us dead, and was possibly not on the Puff exemption list. So she had to go.

"Kid, I know what you're thinking." Harbinger said, placing one of his hands on my baby Sig. The guy was strong, even for an act as simple (and dangerous) as lowering someone's sidearm. "Everyone in Cazador wanted to shoot her when we brought her back. But her info is good, and I got some information for Martin. Now where is your team lead?"

"Rec room." I replied, flicking the safety on my baby Sig back on. "I think there's a Jets game on."

"Ten says they're getting destroyed." Owen said scoffing.

"They're playing the Patriots," I replied in a half dry, half laughing tone. "Of course they're getting destroyed. So whatever info you have is sure to put him in a better mood than the results of that game."

"Kid needs to pick a better team." Earl lit a cigarette, before he and the majority of his team filed out of the armory. Milo Anderson was the only one on Earl's team who stayed in the armory.

"Not as big as the one I've got in Cazador, but you guys still have a good sized place to work." Milo said stretching out, like he was about to make himself at home.

"You're the gunsmith for your team?" I asked, placing my tac-vest back into my locker.

"For the whole company kid." Milo replied. "I made Owen's Abomination."

"Abomination?" I asked, turning my head towards his direction.

"That Seiga he always has with him." Milo replied, and there was both adoration in his voice and in his tone. The guy obviously takes pride in his work. "I did another custom shotgun for a team down in Scranton. Warhammer."

"You mean an AR-15 that's been converted to fire 12 gage shells?" I asked in amazement. I'd heard of the Warhammer, but had never seen one up close, let alone gotten the chance to fire one.

"Well look who knows their weapons." Milo said, sitting in front of the multiple workbenches we have in our armory. "Yeah, I did a little tinkering with this particular one. The big one was that I added a flamethrower onto the under barrel."

I lost my footing, and stumbled forward a little bit. "A flamethrower? You added a flamethrower to a Warhammer?"

"Yep. People call me an evil genius." He said examining a couple weapon parts someone had left scattered on the workbench.

"Well they're right about that." I said reaching into my locker and pulling out my Uzi. "It took my dad, my friends dad, and myself to convert this baby to not mangle forty five ammo."

Milo looked at my Uzi like it was an old friend he hadn't seen in a very long time. "I haven't seen one of these in a long time. Not since Iron Hand Chad."

"Who is that?" I asked, as I handed Milo my Uzi.

"His real name, which he hated was Oliver Chadwick Gardenier. Everyone called him Chad or Iron Hand. He was one hell of a hunter, and Chad was the forerunner of what MHI calls the Iron Hand Uzi like the one you have here."

"I really thought that I had something special with that." I said feeling disappointment at the fact that my Uzi wasn't all that special.

"You do kid." Milo reassured. "Not a lot of people since Chad have used the Uzi because of what it does to forty five ammo. Plus Chad never left any plans on how to successfully convert the Uzi. I tried a couple times, but it never really was the same product Chad had. Trust me kid, when I say that there hasn't been an Iron Hand Uzi like this since Irond Hand was with us, then believe me, you have something special."

"You're referring to Chad in the past-tense." I said, wondering at the same time I spoke it. "Did something happen to him, in that he's no longer with the company?"

Milo sighed, and set my Uzi down on the workbench. "The short version is that his name is on one of the silver plaques in the main compound."

"Shit, I'm sorry about that."

Milo waved it off. "It's fine kid. Actually, you mind if I hold onto this for a little bit? I wanna see what makes this thing tick."

"Sure, just make sure I get it back." I replied. I actually felt a little proud of myself, sure I wasn't the first to come up with what Milo had called the Iron Hand Uzi, but I had helped it make a comeback. "You want details, talk to my dad or Mr. Reese. Oh and If you do decide to produce these things to the rest of the company, John Morrison and Kai Leng both want one."

"I knew I would find you here." Kai said from somewhere behind me.

"Oh god damnit!" My fists hit the workbench, as Milo laughed his ass off. "Gotta put a bell on you or something!"

"That's twice I've gotten you." Kai laughed.

"Yeah, one more and you win a prize." I laughed weakly. "Okay so what brings you down here, other than scaring the crap out of me?"

"Just telling you that Alex wants you to get your armor on. We're going back to Fulton, and that vampire nest."

I felt a chill go down my spine, as I turned to look at her. "Why are we going back there?"

"Alex is following up on a hunch." Kai explained. "He says that when we were there, we did not end up finding its coffin."

And that's when things clicked for me. "Oh shit, is this a team priority?"

Ten minutes later, I'm sitting in the passenger seat of one of our teams large SUVs, with my AR-15 in my lap. I'd purchased a Trijicon Blackout 300 Acog scope. Kai was driving, Rocky, Matt and Creed were in the back. And I have no idea why, but some crazy-ass death metal was blaring out of the vehicle's speakers. Apparently she was real into death metal, and if you gave her the name of any song off of any album in existence, she could recite the lyrics to it word for word. Owen had once joked about introducing her to someone named Skippy. My guess was whoever this person was, he was another death metal fan.

"So what's the deal here?" I asked, turning to face Creed. "Is it something along the lines of driver chooses the music, and passengers shut their cake-holes?"

"Pretty much rookie." Creed replied, tugging his cap down over his face. "Just relax, and let the heavy drum beats soothe you."

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew someone was shaking me awake. "Wake up kid, we're here." I registered Terry Creed's slight accent. Maybe Tennessee, or somewhere around there, but I had just woken up, correction been woken up, and my brain wasn't in any state to be putting things together.

"Anybody got any coffee?" I asked, after shaking my head.

"Not even the instant stuff." Creed replied, before opening the rear passenger door of the SUV we were piled into.

"Well potential vampire first, coffee run later." I said grabbing my AR-15, and exiting the SUV. We were back in front of that condemned office building that was once used as a base for a satanic cult, and a vampire nest. And we were going back in there. Hey, I told you that my life was weird.

The MCB had already beaten us here along with the local cops and state troopers. This was certainly going to draw a crowd, and it made me wonder what the MCB was going to use as a cover story for this situation. Well whatever it was, I'd let Earl and Pat talk it out with Locke, or whoever Locke had sent in his place in case he couldn't make it.

"You sure going in with that thing is the best idea?" Matt asked nodding at my AR-15, as he exited the SUV.

"Milo's back at the compound kinda drooling over my Uzi," I replied, and rotating my rifle 45 degrees. There was a small RMR reflex sight on a 45 degree angle on my ACOG scope, just in case whatever I went up against decided to get up close and personal. "Besides, I figured I'd have to break this rifle in sooner or later."

"Well what's your take on all this?" He asked looking back at the building we had cleared just a few nights ago, as Rocky exited the vehicle.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, which was in my dad's opinion in need of a trim. You see if I don't cut my hair when it starts getting unruly, it grows out. And I don't mean it grows towards the ground, no it grows straight back and gets curly. And I hadn't cut my hair in 8 months. But I'm getting off topic.

"Look, we cleared that building bottom to top. There are only three levels, and nobody found any coffin." I began. "That's the pessimistic view of looking at things. But the way we entered a couple nights ago? That entrance might have had sewer access. They thrive where there's no sun."

"That's a good thought." Rocky said. "I mean those wights, and that other vampire could have come up to have a little fun. Lucky we got there when we did. No telling how much damage they would have caused if they loosed themselves on the town. Plus there's the fact we never did a follow-up, because those wolves attacked right after we offed that vampire."

"So if this theory is correct, we're all gonna need a serious shower once this is over." Matt groaned.

It was right about that time, that a woman with slightly curly brown and slightly greying hair in a casual light blue business suit stepped past the heavy police and MCB blockade, and headed straight for me. "James? James is that you?"

Shit, it was my mom. The last time I'd seen my mom, I mean really seen my mom was when I had found out my grandpa Woods had left me his house and car. Yeah, that hadn't been the best conversation in the world. "Hi mom."

"James, what are you doing here? And what the hell is going on?" She asked, as I waved away an officer that had come to tell her she had to leave the area.

"She's okay," I told the officer who backed off, before turning my attention back to my mom, trying to keep my tone even. "And it's a long story. The short version is, I'm a civilian contractor, there are some very bad people holed up either in here," I jerked my head towards the ruined office building, "and we need to go in there and take care of them."

My mom sighed in resignation, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her left thumb and index finger. "I really should have seen that coming. Does your father know about," she gestured to all of the gear I had on, "all of this?"

"Yeah he knows. And he was pissed." I replied.

"Well of course he'd be pissed, you are the only child we had together, and he doesn't want to lose you." Was I going insane? Was mom sympathizing with dad. I mean yes she's done it before, but those moments were very few and far between if dad ever came up in a conversation. But something clicked in my mind what she had said, and it made me wonder if my parents despite their divorce, still cared about one another.

"Well that explains why he was so reluctant to put in that good word, and allow me to join the Marines." I replied, even though I already knew that. Still, it made more sense now.

"You see? And what did you do to your hair sweetheart?" I could not believe this.I was prepared for a heated argument, not this. I mean, here I was a 23 year old man armed to the teeth, and about to take on a potential vampire nest, and I was allowing my mom to fuss over the state of my hair. It was kind of embarrassing yes, but at the same time, it felt like the last conversation/argument we had, never took place, and in a way it felt kind of nice. "You kind of look like one of those characters in those shows you used to watch all the time. You know the ones with the spiked blond hair?"

Rocky started to laugh, but he shut up when I slugged him in the arm. "Ow! Jeez okay I get it!"

If anything else was going to be said in that moment, it never got the chance to be said. Pat came up to us at that moment, and from his expression, he meant business. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step back behind the police baricade now. We're going in. We're going to insert via the sewer entrances in that building, so it's gonna be close quarters. Fire only if you have a clear shot, and for the love of God, all of you be careful."

My mom nodded that she understood, but before we could join the rest of our team and Earl's team, my mom pulled me into one of those parental hugs that told me to be careful, right before she turned her attention to Matt and the few members of my team that were standing around the SUV. "Matthew, you watch out for my son. That goes for all of you. If anything happens to him-"

"Nothing's going to happen to him Ma'am," Matt replied matching my mom's serious tone. "Not as long as I'm around."

You remember when I said that I hated being right? Yeah, this was another one of those times. My theory proved true, and my team as well as 8 out of 9 of Earl's were sloshing through miles of sewer, and things I did not want to know about. Hell the arachnies smelled better than this. And here I thought that being in the shit was a figure of speech.

"Not much of a difference between being down here and the community up there." I scoffed, as we moved slowly through the sewer pipe. It was myself, Kai, Creed, Matt, Rocky, and several heavily armed MCB agents. When we had entered the sewer, Earl had told us to split into smaller groups, so it would be easier to move about the pipes, and potentially box in anything supernatural I got a few dry chuckles for my little joke.

It was quiet for some time after that, either nobody cold think of anything, or nobody wanted to say anything just in case we were getting close and didn't want to alert any potential threat that we were closing in on them. I didn't think much of it, until Creed who was taking point signalled for us to stop.

"Getting close, take a look." He turned his SCAR which had a small tac-light to the left side of the sewer pipe. I felt my blood chill, and a shudder went up my spine. The pipe wall was smeared in what could only be blood, and it wasn't just that side of the pipe wall. Creed moved his SCAR up and along the pipe from left to right. Blood was smeared along the pipe wall left, right, and center.

Now here's a little information about Matt. He's super religious, although you wouldn't think to look at him. He's got a bit of a nervous tick in that whenever he gets nervous, and I mean incredibly nervous, he starts either praying or quoting passages from the bible. "Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the devil walketh about like a lion seeking whom he may devour."

"That's real comforting Matt." Rocky said, somewhere behind me and to my right. "That's not freaking me out at all."

I was about to comment, when Rocky screamed. I whirled around, and saw him sunk waist deep in sewer water. Thinking, something had grabbed him and was pulling him under, I grabbed onto one of his arms, and tried to haul him back to his feet, but he was sinking into that shit water fast.

"Damn this son of a bitch is heavy!" Matt groaned, as he grabbed onto Rock's other arm, and an MCB agent grabbed Rock's tac-vest.

"Shit, he's slipping back! Christ man, what do you eat!?" I growled, as we continued to try and pull Rocky to his feet. Finally with a real nasty squelching sound, we succeeded in getting him to his feet.

"Rocky what the hell happened?" I asked, panting heavily. He only weighed about a buck-80, but he was heavier with all his gear on.

"I fell in a damn hole." He groaned, trying to fling off shit water from his hands. "Shit."

"Alright, everyone back on me and watch your footing. We're getting close." Creed said, although I swore he was trying to hide that he was holding back a laugh. We continued sloshing through the worst refuse to be excreted from the worst pieces of human excrement on the planet for another half mile, before the pipe sloped up and gave way to some sort of brick or cobblestone.

"Finally out of the shit." I said greatfully, although it would take hours to wash the smell off of my clothes, weapons, and armor, and even more time to wash the smell off of all of us.

"Any idea where we are?" Creed asked.

"Some sort of old cistern." I replied. "I think this runs right under Third Street and the old church on the east end of town, and considering the potential threat, that's kind of ironic."

"Kind of is, but we're going in the right direction." Creed said shining the tac-light on his SCAR on the sloping floor of the cistern. Like the walls of the sewer pipe behind us, it too was covered in blood. Which made me wonder just how many people this vampire had taken, and why nobody had noticed? And that's when I remembered, that this is the ass-end of New York, and nobody really gave a shit about the people here. I actually had to hand it to whoever this vampire had been (undead remember, they're no longer people after they've been bitten) they were pretty smart in setting up shop here.

"Right then, everybody converge on the east end. There's an old cistern with a big-ass blood trail that dollars to doughnuts leads right up to the nest." Creed spoke into his com.

"Alright Creed, hold your position we're on our way." Earl's voice cracked over the line, right before this creepy-ass growl echo from somewhere ahead of our position.

"Anyone feel like we can't afford to wait for backup?" Rocky asked, and I noticed that his face was as pale as it was a few days ago.

I swear to God, you could not make this next part up. Everyone both hunters and agents looked at one another, and almost like we had planned this all said the same thing. "Damn."

We made our way up the sloping cobblestone, or brick, or whatever the hell it was that made up the foundation of this cistern. I had thought that if we did end up encountering a vampire, that this was going to be bad. But nothing could have prepared me for what we would find on that day.

The cobblestone eventually leveled out into a space about the size of a football field, and I could tell that we were under the old church because there were those small spaces dug into the stone where they place the candles (I have no idea what they're called). And just like it was a couple of days ago in that office building, the whole space was packed with wights.

"Oh hell no." Matt, Rocky, and myself said at the same time. Once again, and you cannot make this up, the three of us raised our rifles in the same motion, and opened up on the horde of wights. As Creed, and Kai joined us a second later in hosing down the wights with their own weapons, I heard a strangled cry come from behind us. I seriously wish I hadn't turned around, but it was a good thing that I did.

Wights had come through the damned walls, and had taken down the MCB agents accompanying us. For those of you who don't know, wights have a paralyzing touch. Even a single poke from one of its fingers is enough to put you on your ass. And there were about a dozen wights about to sink their razor sharp teeth into the heavy MCB armor. Another thing about wights for those who don't know, their claws and fangs can and will rip through any armor in a matter of seconds. It's why wights are better off being engaged at medium to long range, because if you're in close proximity to one, and you don't know what you're doing, you are so dead."

"Hostiles on our six!" I called out. I couldn't use My rifle to take out the wights. They were on top of the agents, and if I took out one of the wights, I would end up killing an agent. Which would most certainly get MHI shut down, regardless of how much Agent Locke likes working with our company. It was becoming a habit, be dropping my rifle and allowing the sling to catch it, but that's exactly what I did. My right hand flew to my full-sized Sig, it cleared leather, and the laser sight painted a target on the nearest wight the second my right index finger touched the trigger.

The first three rounds from my Sig caught the closest wight in the head, turning the upper left portion of its skull into undead hamburger. In the split-second I saw that things head explode, I moved onto another target. I was aiming for its head like I had been with the first wight, but the first shot I fired missed, and caught the thing in the shoulder as the wight stood up, and focused its attention on me. It went down spinning in an almost comical 180, and its claws scratched a third's face pretty badly.

Two wights were hurt, but by no means were they out of the fight. I sighted on the wight with the scratched face, but I never got the chance to bring it down. Its face exploded when a trio of shots blew the things face apart. I chance a split-second glance to see who it was that stole my kill, and registered the profile of Terry Creed with one of his twin Glocks drawn, before putting down another wight, then another after that before my first magazine clicked empty. I hit the mag release, fished another out of my armor, and was ready to rock and roll when my Sig's slider came forward to chamber the first round in the new magazine. Eject, new mag, slider forward just like they taught us in training.

"Clear the room and stabilize the agents, we'll take care of this!" I was only vaguely aware of what Creed had said. I'd put three more silver .45 rounds into the wight that I had hit in the shoulder, and was on my third pistol mag by that time. More wights were pouring into the cistern, my guess was from the sewer. Either they were nesting there, or they were being pushed back. I was really hoping for the later option, good news is that we had passed the last agent that had been rendered immobile by the wights paralyzing touch. That meant I could transition back to my AR-15.

Creed had the same thought, and his SCAR's tac-light illuminated what looked to be at least a dozen or two more wights pouring in from the sewer. It wasn't an ideal place to use my ACOG scope, but fortunately for me I had a nice little RMR scope canted on my aformentioned ACOG. I canted my rifle 45 degrees, sighted on the nearest wight, and pulled the trigger. My AR-15 was the civilian model, meaning that it was single fire only, not that it bothered me in this situation. The AR-15 civilian model made a very good all-purpose battle rifle. And due to the fact that it was a high powered rifle, I was taking down wights 2 at a time (lucky shots maybe, but if you're in a particular situation like this don't look a gift horse in the mouth).

Like it had been when my magazines for my Sig clicked empty, it was mag release, new mag, slide forward, or in this case bolt forward. Now here's a little need to know about civilian rifles. The magazine on the majority of them cannot be removed, and replaced with another. Fortunately, Brian didn't sell those particular rifles at his store, so my particular AR-15 did have a magazine that could be swapped.

Creed and I slowly thinned out the horde, as we pushed the wights back to the sewer. When one of the wights fell back with a disgusting sounding splash, I knew we'd reached the sewer once again. We snapped up our rifles, as wights to our left hit the shit water as pieces of undead hamburger. We held our fire, waiting to see who it was that had joined the fight, right before another wight went stiff as a board and dropped back into the water. Creed turned his tac-light onto the wight, and we saw the hilt of a large khukri knife buried into the forehead of said wight.

"I only know two people who do that," Creed began, as more gunfire erased the last few wights. "And only one of them uses that kind of knife."

Seconds later, Alex, Clare, James, Dimitri, Thom, and another 10 agents sloshed into view. The elder of the two Morrison brothers walked over to the wight with the large knife in its head, and ripped the blade out. He flicked the large knife, in an attempt to get wight blood and shit water off of his blade, before placing it back into its sheath that was upside down on his left arm. "And I thought being in the shit was a figure of speech."

"You stole my line bro." Thom said. It looked like he was trying not to vomit, but then again I was trying not to vomit.

"Oops." Alex replied in a sarcastic tone, with a smirk to match his tone.

"Smartass." Clare scoffed, as she reloaded her SCAR PDW.

"Damn straight." Alex replied.

"Are they always like this?" I asked, and Creed nodded in response.

"All the time, but you get used to it." Creed replied.

"Um guys, you might want to get up here. We hit the supernatural jackpot here." Matt's voice said over the com line.

"Sounds like they found the coffins." Alex said.

"Well let's not keep them waiting," Creed began, "If one of those things comes out from its nap, they're not gonna want to be by themselves."

"Got that right." Alex replied, and a few seconds later, we were moving up the sloping cobblestone of the cistern.

We made it into that large space in the cistern a few moments later. The place had been cleared of wights, but there were still chunks of them lying around. The MCB agents that had been surprised by the wights and subsequently paralyzed by their touch, were propped up against a wall to our left, and they were slowly regaining use of their limbs. Several of the agents that had entered the sewer with Alex went to check on their comrades, as the rest of us made our way over to where Kai, Matt, and Rocky were.

Matt was right about one thing, we had hit the supernatural jackpot. There wasn't one, or two coffins cleverly tucked into the wall of the cistern. No, there were three. Three coffins, and we had only managed to take out one vampire. Don't get me wrong, taking out a vampire is a commendable feat in and of itself. But when you find three coffins in the vicinity where you dealt with a vampire several days ago, it tends to kind of dilute the victory.

"Alright, either we hold up and wait for everyone else, or we open these things, and steak the two fangs left in there." Creed said, drawing a sharpened oak steak from somewhere behind his back.

I mirrored him by drawing my katana. What with all the gear I had, there was no room left for any steaks to be placed on my armor. Not that Pat had seen a problem with that. He was a firm believer in the steak and chop method that every hunter learned during their training. One person steaks said undead creature, someone else chops their head off. "So what's the call here?"

"Crack 'em open." Alex barked, and I heard the action of a pump gun cycle, before Matt and Rocky pried the first coffin open.

It was empty, which must have meant that coffin belonged to the blond vampire that Alex had put his arm through. But that meant we had two more coffins that were occupied. Once again, Matt and Rocky pried the coffin open, and this one was occupied by a male who looked like he was in his late 20's. Or at least that coffin was occupied by that person until his head rolled across the cistern floor, and his body collapsed with Creed's oak steak embedded in that vampire's chest. One down and one to go, and I just couldn't shake this ominous feeling I had for some reason when Matt and Rocky pried open the third coffin. It was empty. And somehow I just knew It was going to be. Everyone including me started in surprise when the coffin turned to be empty.

"Alright, this isn't good." Alex said, as everyone lowered their weapons. "Earl, Pat, we have three coffins in here. We've dispatched one hostile without much trouble, but two coffins are empty. Suspected the vampire we dealt with several nights before occupied one of those coffins, but we still have one vampire on the loose down here."

"Is there any other place for those things to go?" Earl's voice asked over the com.

"There's a set of stairs that lead up somewhere." Alex replied.

"Those lead up to the basement of the old Third Street church," Matt said, "The place has been closed for years. Boarded up, and falling apart. Could be the perfect spot for a vamp to hide out."

"They lead up to an old church on Third Street. It's boarded up and falling apart." Alex relayed what Matt had told him over the com line.

"Alright then, Martin my team and the rest of your team will surface and link up with Grant outside the church. We got the son of a bitch cornered, now let's finish it off."

Pat groaned over the line. "Do we really have to link up with Jefferson? I hate working with his useless ass."

"So does Owen, but as it is Martin, you don't really have a choice in the matter." Earl replied over the line.

"Some distain for an MCB agent?" Rocky asked a few seconds later.

"Long story." Alex replied.

"Short version then?" Rocky asked.

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but Clare cut him off. "Grant was part of Earl's team. The guy talked a big game, thinking he was basically the greatest thing since sliced bread. Anyways, during the Cursed One Incident, he gets himself kidnapped and enthralled by a vampire."

I shrugged, because I didn't think that it was very fair for the team to think this guy was useless just because a high-ranking vampire had gotten the best of him. But no time to think about that right now, we had a vampire to deal with. And we had the thing boxed in. An animal backed into a corner is a dangerous one, especially a supernatural apex predator like a vampire. That odd feeling that something was about to happen, as half of my team and the MCB agents scended the stone stairs that lead from the cistern, and into the basement of the church.

"Matt, if you're about to start praying again, please don't." Rocky said, and I heard Matt's voice cut off mid-syllable.

That odd feeling I had only increased when we entered the basement of the church. There were candles all around the basement, which was where our source of illumination came from. Not the oddest thing to find in a church yes, but It gets weirder. On the far side of the church's basement, there was a large canopy bed surrounded by candles. From my point of view the whole thing looked sort of like a scene from a real cheesy romance movie, and I just found myself thinking: What the hell are vampires doing with a canopy bed and a shit-ton of candles? I shook my head, deciding that I never wanted to know that … Unfortunately, that was just not in the cards today.

"Jimmi, you might want to come and take a look at this." From Matt's tone, whatever it was it did not sound good at all.

"What's up?" I asked, my tone matching just how uneasy I felt about the whole situation. On the opposite side of this whole creepy candle filled room, was where Matt had called me to, and I sorely wished he hadn't. There was, well my best description of what I was looking at was some sort of shrine. But wait, this gets weirder. There were pictures everywhere on this shrine, and all of them were of me.

"Oh shit." I said, as I felt my blood chill. I only knew of one person who would be obsessed with me to this level, and if they were a vampire (and all evidence pointed to it) this was not good news. But it did explain the canopy bed, the candles, and why I felt so uneasy about this whole thing. I felt a shudder go up my spine, right before something hit me in the chest.

It felt like I was hit in the chest by a charging bull. Stars erupted in front of my eyes, in all shades of pretty colors. I was only vaguely aware of the sound of overlapping gunfire, as that was a real powerful shot in the chest I just took. Still, when I was able to get to my feet after blinking away the pretty colored stars in front of my eyes, I saw Thom, Alex, and Kai with their backs to me firing in the direction towards the shrine dedicated to me. Not wanting to be left out of the fight, I raised my rifle, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Confused, I pulled the trigger again, and again nothing happened. I chanced a glance at my AR-15, and found that the barrel, and receiver hand been shattered. "Oh you bitch!"

I unslung the rifle, removed my scope, and tossed the destroyed rifle aside. It was a real shame as that had been the first rifle I had ever owned, but now with what that bitch had done to it, it was pretty much useless now.

Now was mad. I loved that rifle, now it was gone. Fortunately I had brought my Saiga with me, and while it wasn't the monster that Milo had given to Owen, this shotgun still packed one hell of a punch. I reached behind me to pull the Russian shotgun around to bring it to bear. My hand had just closed around the Saiga's handle, when she got around Kai, Thom, and Alex, and got right in my face.

This confirmed our third target was who I thought it was. It also confirmed what I thought about the candles, the bed, obviously the shrine, and especially the odd feeling I had about this whole follow-up of Alex's. My ex-girlfriend smiled in a way that sent a chill down my spine. It was a smile that could only be given by the supernatural's most dangerous predator. And she managed to show off those razor sharp incisors in the same smile. "Hello James."

"Cassandra, why am I not surprised?" I tried making my voice as cold as I could. Cassandra had been my girlfriend from my freshman to senior year in high school, and she was a serious yandere. For those of you who don't know what that is, a yandere is a certain character in some anime's that seem sweet and sugary on the outside. But once they become affixed to a certain person, who is normally the main character of said anime, they are not above the most heinous acts known to humankind to end up being with that person. You want an example of a yandere, look at Yukako Yamagashi from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, or Yuno Gassai from Mirai Nikki. Add to the fact that on top of her being a yandere, Cassandra was also a grade-A stalker (another yandere trait yes, but she took that shit to a whole other level that I don't want to get into), and she was seriously obsessed with the supernatural. Guess it only made sense that she became a vampire.

"James, don't even think about it," Cassandra snarled. I guessed she knew I was going for my Saiga.

"I don't need to." I replied, as Kai, Thom, and Alex had their weapons trained on my ex. Matt, Rocky, Creed, Clare, James, and Dimitri as well as the 20 other MCB agents followed soon behind.

"If any of you move, I'll kill him!" Cassandra snarled, as her fingers closed around my throat in an iron vice ice cold grip. It wasn't strong enough to choke me, but tight enough that if she wanted to, she could easily snap my neck.

"You let him go right now, or you're a dead woman." Matt Snarled leveling his FAL.

"I'm already dead Matthew," Cassandra replied, turning her attention to him, "drop your weapons or all of you will be dead as well including James."

"You're not gonna kill him, you're obsessed with him!" Matt spat back.

"Oh I'll easily fix that. Once you're all dead, I can make James into a vampire like myself, and we'll spend eternity together." Cassandra replied, and her tone seemed almost dreamy. Obsessive stalker yandere I had to remind myself, as my right hand slowly let go of my Saiga, and reached for something else.

"You'll never get that chance!" Matt snarled. "Now you put him down, or I'll but you down!"

"No Matthew, you put your weapons down or I will-AHHHHHH!" Cassandra screamed, as my katana sliced her right arm off at the shoulder. Cassandra clutched the stump that was once her arm, still howling in pain when I set the edge of my katana along her neck.

"Can you really do it James?" Cassandra asked, seemingly forgetting about the pain of having her entire arm sliced off. Something that made me real nervous, as vampires have an insane regenerative ability. "You found me beautiful once."

"Honey, you got real ugly." I snarled, right before my katana took my ex's head off.

"You alright James?" Matt asked, as I placed my blade back in its scabbard.

"In the twenty years that we have been friends, not once have you ever called me James." I replied, more shocked at what my best friend had just done than realizing that my ex was a vampire.

"What's your point?" He asked.

"Don't do it again … Ever." I replied.

"You got it brother. And sorry about your rifle. I know you put a lot of love into it."

"It's alright, just let me look through your collection of Guns n' Ammo for a replacement when we get back. Gotta find a replacement and all." I replied, feeling better now that this particular job was over.

My family, as well as Matt's (who weren't as miffed about Framboise as Matt had thought) avoided the entire team, including Earl's when we got back. I mean we were trudging through the sewers of Fulton for God knows how long. Even Peratas wouldn't go near us until every last one of us had showered and changed clothes. I made a point of ditching the ones I had worn when I went into the sewer, I'd buy new clothes later.

I must have spent hours in my shower, at least that's what it had felt like before I was browsing through Matt's stash of gun magazines. I went through about half of his three foot high stack (guy hoards gun magazines like they're Playboy) before I saw the one I wanted.

Fortunately Intimidator was still open when my Mustang pulled into the lot. The bell rang as I pushed the shop door open, and as usual Brian was behind the counter. "Oh Jimmi, what brings you here?"

"I lost my rifle. The first one you sold me." I replied, as I approached the plexiglass pistol display counter Brian was standing behind.

"Bummer man, that fifteen was a reliable rifle." He said shrugging. "So you want a replacement?"

"Actually, I wanted to place an order." I replied smirking as I knew what I was about to order was going to knock him off his feet.

"Alright, well it's a few months until Christmas, but I can deliver your wishlist to Santa himself." Brian replied matching my smirk. "So name your poison."

"The LWRC REPR."