"Argh, this sucks." Hunching his shoulders to avoid the worst of the rain, a fresh-faced youth with long dark, hair slowly and carefully loaded bullets into a handgun, one round at a time. "This is so stupid, I'm loading a gun, with god knows what caliber, in the rain."
The last round slid into the chamber with a soft click, and the boy rotated the cylinder a few times, making sure the action was smooth. "As soon as I'm done here, I'm going back and bringing backup with me. If I ever-"
"I'm afraid you won't get that chance, boy." A tall, pale, and thin man dressed in an undertakers outfit stepped out into the street. His gritty yellow teeth glistened faintly in what little moonlight shone through the clouds. "I'm afraid our... Gathering, has need of you. And your flesh, and your blood."
"Pity, I have need of it too." Pointing the gun, he fired a round into the man's chest, sending him stumbling back a few paces.
"I was going to make it painless, but now..." Baring a pair of sharp fangs, the man fingered the hole in his suit. "That will cost you pain."
"A Vampire, how nice." Thumbing back the hammer, he fired another round into the man's chest, sending him back again.
Sighing, the undertaker examined the second neat hole through his suit. "How many bullets will you waste, boy, before you accept your fate?"
"Oh, just enough to get you under the cross." Smiling pleasantly, he thumbed back the hammer on his gun again, and raised it high, firing a shot into the sky.
Looking up, a dawning look of realization and horror spread across the Vampires face as he saw that a cross indeed, was suspended above the street, held by a pair of planks. One of which now had a hole through it, and was quickly splintering.
"Ta." Firing a last round into the plank, the boy threw himself backwards as the ten foot high cross crashed down atop the Vampire, and burst into flames, reducing the body to ash. Coughing, the boy climbed to his feet and waved his empty hand, clearing the foul smoke from the air. "Nasty stench, I'll have to remember that next time."
"And what makes you think..." A voice drifted out from the shadows. "..There will be a, next time?" Elegantly dressed in a suit the color of coal, a body followed the voice. A long midnight colored cape, lined with crimson, trailed after the man like a low, bloodstained cloud.
"Ah, the Master Vampire." Leaning over, he offered the Vampire a low, mocking bow. "Charmed, may I ask what name I should use to claim my reward for the turning in of your ashes?"
Returning the bow, equally mocking, the Master Vampire smiled, hiding his fangs. "I am Count, Vladisloth, Dracula."
"Oooh, nice pronunciation, and the clothes are very becoming of you. But there is one, small, problem." Tapping the two remaining rounds out of his gun, along with the four empty shells, he pulled a half dozen bullets from his heavy leather jackets pocket, and began reloading carefully.
"And that problem would be?" Walking, almost gliding into the street, the Vampire drifted to a stop, languidly lifting a hand to give his cape a small flourish.
"Count Dracula is dead, you're just a fake." Spinning the chamber a few times, he raised the gun, and pointed it at the vampires head. "And that, as they say, is the end of the problem." Cocking the hammer, he smiled, tilting his head to the side a bit, as if to say Sorry, just doing my job.
"Ah ah ah ah ah... Bullets do not work on Vampires, unless you are extraordinarily slow to learn."
"Perhaps." He fired a round, the shot slamming into the Vampires chest, sending him stumbling back, and gasping in pain and horror. "But what if I used silver bullets?" He cocked the hammer again. "And had them inscribed with a cross by a holy man?" He fired another round.
And another. And another.
Shrieking, the Vampire's bullet wounds burst into flames and consumed his unliving body, leaving a smoking pile of ash on the ground.
"I guess they would turn you into a pile of ash." Sighing, the youth lowered his gun and stood over the smoking remains. "And leave me without a name to claim my reward." Sighing again, he fished in his jacket for a moment, pulling out a small silver urn. "Thanks for nothing." Shaking his head, he began scooping the ashes into the container.
Off in the distance, a screamed carried on the wind.
A scream of terror.
Tucking away the urn, the youth began tapping the ejector rod on his gun, leaving a tail of empty shells as he ran farther into town. Vampires stalked this night, and so did a Vampire hunter.
"Duty calls." Smiling broadly, he began sliding silver bullets into his gun, ignoring the rain that spattered his face.
Tonight was a good night for the hunt.
A good night indeed.
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Well, let me know what you all think. If I get enough feedback, I'll probably turn this into more than a one-shot.