New York First Hunt: Digging the Graves Nov 20, 2012 10:20:57 GMT -5
Post by UlrichAcheronNacht on Nov 20, 2012 10:20:57 GMT -5
In a dark, dank apartment New York City building, a single light flickered on. The large, black sphere in the room's center shot out a tri-color laser, creating the image of a single man in the room. The man was dressed in a black, skin-tight latex suit. He clutched a peculiar-looking gun in his hand, it was reminiscent of a shotgun. He looked at the ball, which showed a picture of his face. Next to the picture, the words: “Shithead. Ninety points. Ten more to go!” Appeared in an odd, green block-shaped text.
“Fuck you,” The man said to the ball. “Fuck you, you piece of shit!” He kicked the ball, his muscles in the leg bulged to enormous sizes before impacting the sphere. “Gantz!” He fell to his knees and dropped the gun, banging both hands against it. “Fuck you! Goddamn you to Hell!” He kept banging his fists for half an hour, before he finally gave up. It wouldn't do a thing. The man solemnly rose to his feet, wiped the tears from his face, then departed the God-forsaken room.
Elsewhere and a few days later, a younger man named Abel Schwarz sat on his couch. In his hand was a syringe, around his other arm was a tourniquet. He poked the needle through his flesh and into his artery by the reverse side of his elbow. He gasped before he pushed the plunger down. The heroin flooded into his system before he wrenched it free. Abel's eyes began to flicker before he closed them. Always with heroin, the man began to fall asleep. However, when he did fall asleep, he didn't wake up...
The man wearing a black suit beneath his clothing was walking down a street. Ahead of him, a pair of kids were trying to shake down an old lady for her purse. Francis Schwarz tutted and shook his head, continuing his pace. His thoughts were veering away from the last hunt he'd participated in; everyone died. Except him, of course... He kept those morose thoughts from maneuvering around in his head by approaching the pieces of shit.
“Mugging an old woman? Really?” Francis grabbed one of the little shits by the back of the neck and tossed him away like a ragdoll; he slammed into a building and fell on the ground, curled up into a ball. The other turned to him, holding a knife out at him. “The fuck you think that's gonna do?” He took the knife by the blade and bent it, just before wrenching it from the mugger's hand. The hunter pulled the blade up and into the shithead's throat. The would-be mugger stumbled back, clasping his throat as spurts of blood jetted out and onto the pavement. As a pang entered his head, Francis glanced towards the old lady; she was running away with her purse in-hand. It was time to go, then... It seemed like he killed both of them, too. Two more on the next hunt.
A crippled man dragged himself forwards, pulling himself through the street. His bloody, flattened legs dragged limply behind him, extra weight that pulled him down. Sweat trickled down his face, he could smell his blood and taste some of it. A woman walking out of an alley was garbed in the wear of a “woman of the night.” Her face was painted up, she wore hardly any clothing; it was like she was wearing a tight, tight bikini with stiletto heels. The most luck he'd had since
“Help me,” He garbled to the whore. She looked at him, then took a step away. She thought better of it and walked towards him. She took him by both wrists and dragged him onto the sidewalk with some difficulty. She leaned down to take a look at him, to make sure his upper body was fine. Then, a hand found its way into one of his pockets and his fangs found her throat. He crunched down on it and began sucking tenderly, draining her of blood. She began to writhe in his grasp until his hands found her throat, as well. He squeezed and continued drinking her blood, her struggling grew weaker and weaker as his grip grew firmer.
Finally, her neck snapped like a vise. The vampire kept drinking greedily, glad he'd found someone to drink from – even if it was a prostitute. Once he was finished drinking her blood, he felt his legs beginning to regenerate the bones, repairing the shattered fragments in his lower extremities. Something strange happened, even for Jebediah. The body he was holding began to vanish in his hands... And he found himself being transported with it. "What the fuck...?"