Disaster.

The left turbine of the plane exploded, leaving the plane unbalanced as the metal wall of the plane were forced open by the blast. Air, hot air, sucked the mortal out, sending the careening to their deaths as they screamed. One mortal, a pregnant woman met her end too soon as the turbine of the plane sucked her in, shredding her into pieces of flesh as the crowd panicked.

The intercom of the plane crackled alive as the pilot and the co-pilot tried their damndest to assure that they were going to be fine. It was a lie, and a bad one at that as the passengers screamed louder in terror, considering the velocity of the plane as it began to plummet down to its doom.

A boy, none older than seven years, cried as he fell from his unbuckled seat. A stewardess amongst the panicked passengers widened her eyes in panic as it spotted the fallen boy. Quickly, almost instinctively, she hurried to the fallen boy, and she succeeded to.

Only for the plane to tilt suddenly, causing the unfortunate stewardess and boy to be flung like a ragdoll, hitting the walls of confinement, before the two mortals dropped dead on the ground, the nurse's neck twisted in such unnatural way, and the boy's body mangled like a bad Barbie doll.

A scream of despair exploded from the far side of the plane, probably the mother of the boy as she desperately crawled her way to the boy's dead body, disregarding the risk of her dying. Several of other passengers tried to hold her off, much to their avail.

Briefly, I noticed the pilot of the plane praying to God, seeking forgiveness for all of his sinful deeds, and asking protection for those who waits him back home, before the plane touched the ground, and exploded into a dead piece of technology, along with its passengers.

Of course, that was how I was imagining the flight was going to be, considering the ten yours of the Universe not fucking me over like a dirty bitch, and suddenly I was sent to some special mission. Except nothing accidental happened.

The flight, aside for a few toddlers crying like a disgusting toddler, went smoothly. No turbine exploding, no terrorist hijacking, no vampire gone mad, and definitely no disaster ever happening. In a way, it made me more nervous and scared.

This meant that whatever vampires await me in the town of Gimlet was either going to be dangerous, or simply that shit was going to happen. I closed my eyes, rubbing the ridge of my nose tiredly. Were people back home knew my current state of mind, then they would call me paranoid. I called it being Genre Savvy—

I froze for a moment, before relaxing my muscle as I smiled bitterly. I had called the Millennium's base as home. Fucking hell.

Shaking my head, I looked over the brown file I had received from Schrodinger, before deciding to review it once again as I opened it. The story or rather, the information of the town was rather vague, only that a priest vampire turned most of the townies inside into vampires, fledglings to be exact.

It was awfully similar to the priest in Cheddar.

Shaking my head, I flipped the file once more. There were upon a guess, seven vampires in the town, not counting the mastermind behind it all. All of the remaining townies weren't ghoulified, strangely enough. From the Intel, it said that the rest of the townies were either burned to ashes, or sucked clean of their blood, changing them to a familiar.

I hoped it was the former.

Sighing, I closed the file, slipping them back to the brown folder as I leaned back on the uncomfortable chair.

"What's wrong, boy?" My neighbor asked me, a thick Irish accent as he did so. He was an old man, probably hitting the age of seventy, probably. "Having a problem with your job?"

I gave him a crooked smile as I nodded. "Aye. My boss is being quite a dick at giving me orders,"

The old man nodded to himself as well. "I see. You know, when I was younger, I also had a hard job. Very hard, in fact, my..."

I tuned his voice down as I stared at the small window beside me. It was still hours to go before I arrived in Ireland. I could sleep, but I wasn't feeling particularly tired, so I simply waited, picking up a magazine on the seat in front of me.

"And then, boy, the darndest thing happened. The pressing machine broke down! So I had to call my boss, and did you know what he said to me? He fucking told me to fix it! It was as if he was expecting me to fix all the shit that's broken—"

"Shh!" A person behind us hushed, before talking in hushed whispers. "Excuse me sir, but there's a baby sleeping here, so please keep your mouth shut,"

The old man gave the woman a sheepish smile. "Sorry ma'am," he apologized, before staring at the back of the seat before us, before he whispered to me. "And do you know what I did, boy?" he asked quietly.

I raised an amused eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I said to him to, 'Suck his own fucking balls, I quit!' and then I never came back to that damned hellhole again," he said, smiling in nostalgia. "Lesson is, if your current employment sucks, then you should just quit, and change profession."

I gave the old man a dry smile. "Well, I wish I could, sir,"

The man blinked, before blinked again, this time in realization. "Ah, so it's that kind of boss, eh?" he shook his head, looking at me in pity. "Well, God bless you, eh?"

I chuckled. "God bless me, indeed,"

The conversation died at that as the old man yawned, excusing himself before he slipped into the realm of unconsciousness. Standing up from my seat, I carefully slipped through his legs, before I calmly sauntered to the small restroom.

As I entered the cubical restroom, I took a sit on the toilet, exhaling a deep breath as a flash appeared into my hand. Opening them, I slowly drank from it, emptying it; letting the delicious red liquid play within my mouth, before I swallowed them.

I relished that feeling of warmth as the red liquid did its job as my supper.

Satisfied with my quick meal, I stored the flesh back to my storage, giving myself a mouthwash before I exited the cubicle, and back to my seat, beside the old man. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift into the much appreciated realm of unconsciousness.

I was soon awoken by the sound of the intercom crackling alive, informing me that we were about to land, and told to buckle your seatbelts, and all that stuffs as we waited for the plane to land perfectly on the ground. Fortunately, it did land perfectly to the ground, if only a bit shaky.

Soon, we were exiting the plane through a stair of some sort. The scent was good, I thought, as I sniffed the air. Granted, it's polluted with gas, but it was better than inside of the plane. Too fucking full of artificial scents. And I was slightly thankful of my foresight to wear a thick coat to cover myself from the sun.

Grinning, I strode out of the airport as if I had a purpose, staring at the little map the file had provided me. It wasn't far, really; thirty miles away from the city, to the rural part of little Ireland. I stopped in surprise as a taxi stopped right in front of me.

The window rolled down, revealing a certain cat bot. He waved at me cheerfully. "Hallo, sir. Welcome to Ireland. Would you go inside, so I can drive you to your chosen destination?" He said, mimicking the thick Irish accent.

I sighed, not quite hiding the twitch in the corner of my lips. It would be a sad day the day I betrayed the organization. With a shrug, I decided to play with him. "Why, thank you, good sir," I said, doing my best British accent as I entered the taxi.

"You're welcome, Private. Now, we're going to the assigned destination, Gimlet,"

As he finished the sentence, he fucking pushed the pedal. Needless to say, it was the most terrifying thing I had experienced in my ten years of un-life.

()_()_()

I slammed the door open. Throwing myself out as I felt the world surround me to blur, and spin and round, and round. "Next time," I heaved out, glaring at the cheeky bastard. "I'll be driving!"

He gave me a cat like smile, and a salute. "We'll see about that, and happy collecting, Private!" and just like that, he was gone.

Slowly, but surely, I climbed up to my feet, calming down my bouts of vertigo and dizziness as I leaned myself to the empty Taxi car. "For God's sake, I love and hate that cat," I growled out.

Looking up, I was treated with the sight of Gimlet, a small town, more of a village than a town, really. It was barren of any signs of the living, and un-living, like a random town you'd visit in a horror movie. Like House of Wax.

Fortunately, as I stored my thick coat into my storage and switched for the standard Nazi uniform, and army trench coat, I wasn't some kind of a helpless teenager. I stretched my arms to my sides, and ten daggers of all various sizes and kinds fit snuggly into the crannies of my fingers.

I sauntered to the town, stopping a few inches as I stood behind the gate of Gimlet and I tried the simplest strategy that had worked every time. "Knock, knock!" I shouted.

No answer.

I tried once again, harder this time. "Knock, knock!"

There was some sort of a shuffle —or was it a scuffle? — Before I heard a female voice answering. "Who's there?"

I tracked the source of the voice, and bingo. She was inside of the small dark alleyway behind the shop that sold candies.

"Collector!"

There was a bout of silence, before the same female voice said back, "Collector who?"

"Collector collecting your blood!"

She didn't get a chance to say anything, before I quickly dashed with the best of my speed to the dark alleyway. There she was, a girl in her twenties. Long blond hair, eyes wide with fear as she stared at me, and...

Is she wearing a godsdamned nun and a cross circle?

Nevermind that, I immediately threw five of my daggers, and I felt immense glee as they hit spot on my target: Two on the chest, in case she had Dextrocardia, one on her neck and two on her head, straight in the middle of the eyes.

Her body fell, head utterly destroyed beyond recognition, and her chest were now supporting two gaping hole.

"CATELYN, NO!"

I pivoted my body around; brandishing the five daggers in my left hand as I quickly refilled my right with another five daggers. There, standing in front of me was another Vampire, a male, brown hair, red eyes and...

Why the fuck is he wearing a fucking priest suit?!

"How dare you!" He pointed at me, tears pouring out of his eyes. "How dare you killer my lover?!"

I blinked, and the word that described what I was feeling came out of my mouth. "What?"

"You fucking heretics!" The insane vampire spat out, his finger elongated into sharp claws as he readied himself to pounce. "You must be the evil that Father had informed us of!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, mate?"

The rude and definitely insane Vampire didn't deign me an answer as he pounced at me, he claws aiming to cut me into pieces. "Die you heathens!"

Instantly, I ducked my head, and rolled to the front, letting the insane vampire to strike the ground. His claws deeply gouged into the ground, and as he tried to pull out his claws out, he soon found the feeling of having a large hole in his head, and heart.

I looked at the dead bodies, staring at them in utter and complete befuddlement as I tried to puzzle out what the fuck had happened.

Is the Vatican secretly raising an army of a religious vampire?

The whole notion was too much incredulous that I quickly dismissed it after I crushed it utterly and completely under my boot.

Still. What the fuck?

I looked around the town, where do you go in a town where a religious vampire is a thing? Then my eyes caught the view of a large, grey chapel on the middle of the town like a glorious wood in the morning, just down the road. "How the fuck did I missed that?"

Shaking my head in incredulity, I walked down the road, focusing back to a serious mode as I decided to save that incredulity for later. Oddly enough, the walk down to the church was a quiet one. No attack from vampires nor were there any attack from even a ghoul.

That only smelled thick of trap as I stood, slightly crouched, in front of the door. Quietly, I pushed the door open slightly, only to hear a person spouting off, but muffled?

Yes, definitely muffled, and by the sound of it, whoever was inside haven't noticed my presence yet. Silently, I sneaked in, and the voice became clearer as I hid behind a large long pillar.

"For God hath given us the power to destroy all those heretics, and heathens! We, as the soldiers of God, are created to destroy those who tries to defy him, like those traitorous vampires, and those dreaming fools who calls themselves the Vatican, do you understand, my children?"

My mouth moved by its own, gaping in both horror and in the incredulity of what I was hearing. What?! My mouth moved.

"Yes, Father Alexander Anderson!" Came the chorus of four... religious vampires.

I blinked, and I couldn't fight the urge to confirm whether not that was really Anderson or not, even though I already knew the godsdamned answer. My guess was confirmed as the one posing as Father Anderson wasn't even close looking like him.

He was thin, and old, wearing the Iscariot standardized uniform which made me question how the fuck the little shit got it. First thing I do is to get that shit. In his hands, obviously fake, was Father Anderson's famous bayonet.

In front of the fake father sat four vampires, staring at the fake Father with a look of adoration, admiration, and fucking affection as the fake father began another spiel of bullshitry.

Oh fuck this!

I jumped out of my cover. "Surprise motherfucker!" I shouted, and the five sad excuses of vampire's heads snapped in surprise to stare at me. Before they could react, however, I threw all of my ten daggers at the four vampires. Turning them into chunks of meat as their heads and torsos were riddled with holes.

In instant, I pulled out another weapons from my storage, this time swords in each of the crannies of my fingers. "Psalms 23:4," I muttered, my voice carrying out in the hollow chapel. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," the floor of the chapel crunched as I walked closer to the fake father. "I will fear no evil: for thou art with me," my swords sang in the air as the terrified vampire began to get ready to attack me. "Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Amen."

In instant, the vampire pounced at me, intent to rip myself apart as his legs body began to elongate itself like a snake would. I cursed under my breath. Dammit, I wasn't going to kill him.

I rolled to the side, turning back quickly only to find the fake father ready to strike me again as he brandished the fake blessed blades at me. At that time, I took a quick gamble, and pushed that density I felt in my body to my chest, where he struck me.

The damned blades broke.

Look of horror dawned to him as he stumbled back, before quickly resorting to a desperate measure as he simply threw himself at me.

I rolled under him, spreading that density in my body back to normal. Quickly, I pivoted my feet, and quickly dismissed my blades as I punched the fake father's neck before he could stand up. Not too hard as not to kill him, and hard enough to just knock him out cold.

I let out a sigh of relief as I regarded the fake father with disgust. Really! The nerves to pretend as Father Anderson! I was really, really urged to kill him.

But mission is mission, and Millennium's doesn't react well with failures if I remembered correctly about what happened to Zorin Blitz. Sighing, I crouched down and slung him over my shoulder. I could try storing him into my pocket, but I would rather not test things I wasn't sure about. Besides, he's not that heavy, anyway.

I was about to turn around, before a familiar voice turn my blood cold.

"Ah, how dare thee sully the Lord's body with your dirty feet, you dirty undead heathens?"

Stiffly, I turned my head around, before I snapped it back as I recognized who it was standing behind me, blessed bayonets brandished and ready to strike every heathens in its way, which meant me.

Oh fuck me. It's fucking Alexander Anderson.

"Please don't kill me," I squeaked out.