A silver crossbow slammed down on the counter. The shop was empty, just after the typical noon rush. Now Barty stood, tall and menacing, glaring down at the shop owner.
“How much for it?” His voice was rough. His palms laid flat against the counter and he leaned forward, dark eyes glimmering menacingly. “Well?”
The shop owner was a small, chubby man. He was practically bald and had little beady eyes that darted around nervously. He seemed to look anywhere but where Barty stood.
Barty slammed a fist down on the counter. “Fucking answer me!”
“I- I- just take it!” The smaller man whimpered. Barty sighed heavily. “Look. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need this crossbow, okay? So here is this,” he slid some money on the counter, eyes not leaving the man’s. His hand wrapped around the crossbow. “And I will take this.”
The shop owner nodded quickly, greedy hands not wasting a second as he snatched up the money. Without another word, Barty waved the hand that wasn’t holding the crossbow and exited, grinning. That was easier than he thought it’d be.
Barty was a member of an organization whose sole purpose and mission was to eradicate all vampires. They were dangerous, cruel, and vile creatures who felt no remorse whilst they drained their victim. Not that they were much better. They weren’t above murdering innocents if it meant the death of a vampire.
He had joined when he was only 8. His father had killed his mother and threw him out. He was too painfully like her. The organization found him, took him in, and began his training immediately. With a newfound purpose, he put in his best effort and thrived, quickly surpassing even those older than him.
Oh, if only his father saw him now.
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It was dark. The sky was inky black, the stars casting tendrils of light that snaked through the darkness. Regulus was perched atop a tree, waiting, ever cautious.
Heavy footsteps filled the quiet. Regulus perked up, eyes scanning the cobbled road. The smell of human flesh and blood filled his nose. The hunger physically pained him, to the point he had to hold back a small groan. He’d be fine after his meal, he just had to make it through.
The human finally came into Regulus’ view. She was a female, most likely in her late 20s. He always felt bad about taking the young ones. He was turned into a monster at just seventeen, yet he took their lives? Then, he shrugged it off and pounced, pearly fangs sinking into her throat.
The blood was warm and salty. Regulus desperately swallowed, no doubt making a mess. He was typically more careful, but right now, all he cared about was satiating his gnawing hunger.
More steps fell against the street. They seemed faster, as though the person were running. He smelled human, but he also smelled… Shit.
He jumped up, abandoning the girl and beelining for the trees. He jumped from tree to tree as he wiped the blood from his mouth, panting heavily when he finally allowed himself to stop. Fuck. How careless had he been for a vampire hunter to find him?
He looked back up at the night sky. He wanted his mother or his father or his brother. The people he could never have back. Shaking, he looked at his hands. Blood stained them. Why had he been turned into this monster?
He remembered the night vividly. The handsome man with the buttery smooth voice who lured him out. Who suddenly bit him, fangs sinking into Regulus’ neck before he got the chance to scream. He remembered the burning feeling, the need to claw at his throat as the poison tainted his blood. The man pulled back, horror on his face when he realized what he had done.
He screamed, loud and raw. Maybe, if he screamed loud enough, the devil would come and take him away.
—————————
Barty heard the screaming and wasted no time running after it. He seemed to believe the vampire had found his next victim.
Regulus didn’t care if he was found now. He didn’t care if he were killed. As a matter of fact, he hoped he would be. He hoped the hunter would find him and plant a silver bolt where his fabled heart was.
Barty’s heart beat loudly as he sprinted. He had to save this person. If he couldn’t save his mother from his father’s cruel fist, he could save his person from this vampire’s hungry fangs. He would save them.
The screaming didn’t stop. Pounding footsteps continued.
Scream, scream, scream. Run, run, run.
Hope is a twisted thing. It plants the belief someone could truly accomplish something, a false sense of security in their abilities. When it all goes wrong, it turns from something caring to something cold and emotionless. It becomes a long, cold knife that doesn’t care when it is stabbed into a person's heart and twisted. Hope is a weapon that doesn’t mind being used as such.
Hope is the strongest, most deceitful weapon.
The screaming stopped. The running stopped. They stared at each other, silent, only broken by Barty’s heavy panting.
“Where’s the person who was screaming? Where’s your victim?”
Barty felt tears threaten to spill. He failed, he couldn’t save them. He pushed it back down. That wasn’t important right now.
Regulus laughed. “There’s always some kind of monster killing someone, right?”
Barty’s jaw clenched. “Where are they?”
“Probably wishing to be dead.”
Barty paused. They weren’t already? “Where are they?” His voice was loud, his tone urgent. He could still save them.
“Why does it matter so much? They don’t want to be alive at this point.” Regulus’ lips curved into a bitter smile. “Besides, you came here to kill me, right? Just do it.”
Barty shrugged and held up his crossbow. It didn’t really matter, the person would be dead soon enough. He’d just have to find someone else to save to make his conscience feel better about watching his mother get murdered.
Regulus looked at the crossbow. Silver. That would be sure to kill him. He was scared, he knew there was no point in denying it. Yet, he stayed rooted to the spot, pink lips parting.
“Any last words?” Barty asked, amused at the expression on Regulus’ face.
“I was the one screaming.” Regulus didn’t know why he’d said it. A small part of him yearned for comfort, yearned to be held and spoken softly to. He yearned for what he was never provided as a child.
Barty went silent. She was no longer amused. He was confused. His thoughts drifted to Regulus’ words, “they don’t want to be alive at this point.” He was talking about himself. He lowered his crossbow.
Then, he saw the faint traces of blood that still covered Regulus’ mouth. He made his way forward, arms twisting around the smaller man’s torso.
His hands ran up his back, getting tangled in his hair, moving to his face. His skin was soft, eyes guarded and sad. “You aren’t a monster, you’re someone who deserves more.”
He leaned forward, his lips centimeters away from the other’s. Hot breath fanned against Regulus’ face. Their lips touched against eachother’s. Instantly, something seemed to awaken. The kiss turned from soft and careful to intense and desperate, both using the other for something to feel alive, to feel wanted.
Barty pulled back, eyes wide.
No.
No.
Shit.
He backed up, hands shaky, holding the crossbow up again. “I- I’m sorry. I messed up.”
His finger lightly pressed against the trigger, unable to do it until he saw the blood again. The traces of death. He had killed innocent people before, for his cause. Regulus was the same. He just couldn’t bring himself to care as his hand tightened around the crossbow, he shut his eyes, and he shot.
He turned around and opened his eyes. He ignored the choked sound, ignored the man—no, monster—dying behind him. He ignored the heavy scent of blood as he walked away, crossbow still tight in his grip. For the cause. Always for the cause.