Post by The Janitor on Jan 17, 2010 17:44:47 GMT -5
It was dead quiet on the streets once more. Previously the sounds of the wounded and dying filled the night air. Their blood ran like a river in the labyrinth of alleyways, sewers, rooftops, hallways down the road from him. The police had better things to do than to investigate a gang war that had raged in the small city. The local cartel had made a big move on the border a little over a hundred miles North-East of his current location. If the gamble failed it would bring their empire crashing down to it's lowest foundations never to reach it's height of power again. So this little massacre was low on the list compared to everything involved with that. The local fire department was reluctant to respond preferring to let the fire take care of it's self than hit the street.
However it hadn't been a gang war even though it consisted of two rival groups fighting in the same area. The vampires had been the first to go. Two buildings cleared. Three if you wanted to count the one that was leveled. Two brothels, a chop shop, blood bank, and drug lab went with them. Along with a moderate size coven that was reduced to rubble. The group of hunters were next. Though that fight took longer to stop. There was no time to prepare and the element of surprise was disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. They fought hard, but they perished. By blade, bullet, and good old fashioned blunt force trauma. A couple by fire. Basically two armies snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Minus a couple survivors. All by the careful planning and actions of a single being. A human man of all things.
The Janitor took a deep breath of the night air. Calming his nerves and bleeding out all the excess adrenaline. He no longer felt like he would explode at mere touch. Leaning against the front of an old Toyota land cruiser he dropped his shotgun on the hood and pulled off the mask covering his face. The vehicle had been loaded with cash, a few weapons and anything he could find a use for. Which included two trussed up vampires and a wounded hunter. All three unconscious. Two of them he deemed too have a "too well built frame" to butcher and decided to save for a bit of fun later on. The third had the priviledge of being a ballistic dummy for his tinkering with firearm cartridges. Other vampire and the hunter he wasn't sure what he'd do with after he got bored. Vampire might meet the same fate as her counterpart. The hunter he might let go after removing her right index finger.
At the moment he stuck out like a sore thumb. Even with the outfit he was wearing at the moment. A neat little camouflage pattern he put together using a few different shades of gray. Body armor covering his torso with flame-slash resistant sleeves covering his arms and legs. Light nomex gloves so he could still operate his firearms. His load bearing vest and belt loaded down with shotshell pouches, magazine pouches, and various grenades. Not to mention a 10mm sub-machine gun modeled after an uzi reduced to almost machine pistol size strapped to the right side. His belt-line gear remained the same other than a tomahawk and lack of a flashlight. Home cooked aresol agent, a single 10mm pistol, two magazines, a push knife, and cell phone. Not to mention the shotgun lying on the hood. It along with the sub-gun had a mounted light he had upped the illumination on. The light made the end of the gun a little too warm to touch when switched on after a few seconds. Unfortunately they went through batteries like candy. The war club was slung across his back as usual. It had been stashed in a culvert until he ran into the hunters. He also had a few other tricks up his sleeve.
Picking up the shotgun he retrieved a bottle of water before returning the weapon to it's prior location. Something wasn't right about the environment now. A few minutes ago everything was fine, but now he could tell something was wrong. He didn't like it either. Capping the water he placed it on the hood before picking up the shotgun again. He pulled a few shells from their respective pouch and loaded them. "Might as well step out. I already know you're here." he called out. Ejecting a spent casing onto the ground. He quickly chambered a fresh cartridge and topped off the magazine.
However it hadn't been a gang war even though it consisted of two rival groups fighting in the same area. The vampires had been the first to go. Two buildings cleared. Three if you wanted to count the one that was leveled. Two brothels, a chop shop, blood bank, and drug lab went with them. Along with a moderate size coven that was reduced to rubble. The group of hunters were next. Though that fight took longer to stop. There was no time to prepare and the element of surprise was disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. They fought hard, but they perished. By blade, bullet, and good old fashioned blunt force trauma. A couple by fire. Basically two armies snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Minus a couple survivors. All by the careful planning and actions of a single being. A human man of all things.
The Janitor took a deep breath of the night air. Calming his nerves and bleeding out all the excess adrenaline. He no longer felt like he would explode at mere touch. Leaning against the front of an old Toyota land cruiser he dropped his shotgun on the hood and pulled off the mask covering his face. The vehicle had been loaded with cash, a few weapons and anything he could find a use for. Which included two trussed up vampires and a wounded hunter. All three unconscious. Two of them he deemed too have a "too well built frame" to butcher and decided to save for a bit of fun later on. The third had the priviledge of being a ballistic dummy for his tinkering with firearm cartridges. Other vampire and the hunter he wasn't sure what he'd do with after he got bored. Vampire might meet the same fate as her counterpart. The hunter he might let go after removing her right index finger.
At the moment he stuck out like a sore thumb. Even with the outfit he was wearing at the moment. A neat little camouflage pattern he put together using a few different shades of gray. Body armor covering his torso with flame-slash resistant sleeves covering his arms and legs. Light nomex gloves so he could still operate his firearms. His load bearing vest and belt loaded down with shotshell pouches, magazine pouches, and various grenades. Not to mention a 10mm sub-machine gun modeled after an uzi reduced to almost machine pistol size strapped to the right side. His belt-line gear remained the same other than a tomahawk and lack of a flashlight. Home cooked aresol agent, a single 10mm pistol, two magazines, a push knife, and cell phone. Not to mention the shotgun lying on the hood. It along with the sub-gun had a mounted light he had upped the illumination on. The light made the end of the gun a little too warm to touch when switched on after a few seconds. Unfortunately they went through batteries like candy. The war club was slung across his back as usual. It had been stashed in a culvert until he ran into the hunters. He also had a few other tricks up his sleeve.
Picking up the shotgun he retrieved a bottle of water before returning the weapon to it's prior location. Something wasn't right about the environment now. A few minutes ago everything was fine, but now he could tell something was wrong. He didn't like it either. Capping the water he placed it on the hood before picking up the shotgun again. He pulled a few shells from their respective pouch and loaded them. "Might as well step out. I already know you're here." he called out. Ejecting a spent casing onto the ground. He quickly chambered a fresh cartridge and topped off the magazine.
