Vampires vs. Trappers

7. Black-Eyed Temper

"Die, Vamp bïtch!" the overzealous blonde male known as Jim yells as he charges toward me with a jagged fragment of broken armor- having just torn it off of the shredded husk from the downed man that lay in pieces on the floor before him as a last resort, seeing as his first choice of a weapon is halfway across the room, lodged up the äss of another dead man.

With a sadistically delighted chuckle and a simple step to the side, I play him like a bull running after the red cape I bear in the form of blood, undoubtedly covering me in splatter-print from head to toe, and as intended, he stampedes past me with a loud grunt in anger and frustration.

"Oh, come now bug , you can do better than that!" I tease giddily, twirling around in place to face him with a smile and an undeniable spring in my step as I do so.

"Why don't you just try standing still for me, dollface- and then we'll just see how cocky you are once I've cut your fückin' heart out." He snarls in a menacingly bitter tone, transferring his makeshift weapon into his other hand and firmly tightening his grip around it in preparation, even drawing a bit of blood from his palm as a result of his bitter hatred and lividity.

"Oh, is that so?" I mock feistily, quirking up an intrigued brow and giggling audaciously as I feed into his confident threat on my - technically lifeless - life, "Come on then. Let's see what you've got." I hold out a hand and summon him with a few, taunting curls of my index finger.

Accepting my invitation almost immediately, he nearly kicks off the ground like the before mentioned bull reference, and launches toward me- teeth bared like a provoked animal and arms out at length, as if he actually thinks he could take me down.

Simply offering a devilish smirk in response to his egotism-inspired bravery, and randomly deciding to let him have a real chance against me in a spur of the moment call, I remain absolutely still in place as he charges at me full throttle; just to see what he does; merely out of curiosity.

How ironic, that this surprisingly durable, yet ultimately feeble excuse for a human man- the very same man who was the root of my anger from the very beginning of this little journey, is now the last man standing from his entire crew. How entertaining, the thought of saving the shït-talker for last- How entertaining, indeed.

Reaching me in a surprisingly swift three seconds, he wastes no time in swinging the jagged blade at me in nearly every direction, aiming for what only seems like really anything he can get his hands on- and of course, I have no problem predicting and evading his every motion, almost as if he was moving in slow motion before me. But, as an unexpected twist, I quickly conclude that his sporadic movements were nothing more than a strategically planned distraction, as he suddenly latches a hand onto a chunk of my hair out of nowhere; a cheap shot I hadn't anticipated.

In all of my six-hundred and twenty-four years, not once has an opponent reached for my hair as a means of offing me... It's things like this that make me miss the old times, when people actually had pride and dignity about them in a battle.

What ever happened to fighting with honor?

Well, while actually managing to catch me off guard, he yanks my head to the side somewhat, via his handful of my tresses, and then takes my swift falter as an opportunity to drive the long slab of metal into my left side, jamming it up under my ribs in such a way that instantly has me gasping for some essence of oxygen I don't even require. But just as quick as it happened, and as the man is about to go for my chest with another, smaller hunk of metal I hadn't even noticed he had beforehand, he's suddenly ripped away from me and thrown across the room like a limp marionette doll.

Audibly shattering upon contact with the wall opposite me, much like a porcelain plate, nearly all of his bones can be heard snapping all throughout the morgue, and can also be seen instantly forcing their way out of a few parts of his body as he then hits the ground like a bag of mashed bits, half-dead and gurgling from the immense pain and mouth overflowing with redirected blood flow.