You continue sprinting down the road, staying on your path and refusing to yield. You run for a long time, hearing the howls of the werewolf pack growing louder and closer. Each time one howls, it seems like they're at the edge of the road or right behind you, but they're not, not just yet. Keeping a steady pace, you ignore the burning of your muscles and the horrible pain of your cuts and bruises, your body wanting nothing more than to collapse. Still, you keep your mind focused, keeping to a steady jog rather than an all out sprint that would leave you exhausted in no time at all. Just keep running and you'll make it out of there. Hopefully.

Suddenly, you hear the howl of a werewolf, and it's so close, so clear, so loud that you know that you need to do something. Glimpses of gray fur and white teeth begin appearing on the edge of the forest. It's time to act.
> You open fire on the beasts
You raise your shotgun, taking up a shooting position as you open fire at the approaching werewolves. You aim down the iron sights of your shotgun, quickly targeting an approaching werewolf that appears from out of the trees. You fire your gun, silver shards tearing through the werewolf's open maw as you blow open its jaw, killing it instantly and sending it collapsing in a shower of gore and blood. You swivel around, quickly targeting another creature that's appearing from the bushes. You fire again, the shot hitting the creature's foreleg and leading it to stumble, hitting the ground, before quickly leaping off into the bushes again. By now, the creatures now to avoid your direct line of fire, so you simply stand there, sweeping your gaze around you, shotgun at the ready. Ever few seconds, you spot one emerging from the bushes, attempting to flank you and tear the gun from your hands, or your arm from your body, but the creatures dives back upon being noticed, and if it doesn't your shotgun easily sends them running.

Still, you're far outnumbered, and your ammo is rapidly running out. You swear, wondering how you're going to get out of there, before you see a faint light in the distance. Your eyes widen as you see a pair of bright yellow lights, slowly growing larger and brighter. Adrenaline coursing through you, you double your efforts, firing at every flash of fur or teeth that you see in the bushes, hoping to give yourself some space.

Soon, the source of the lights comes into view. A massive, eighteen wheeler truck comes into view, roaring along the road. The werewolves howl at you, but you continue firing upon them, until the truck

"What the fuck are you doing?!" the driver yells, as you struggle to understand his thick Norwegian accent with your basic understanding of the language.

"Please!, Please help me!" you yell, not giving him a second to respond as you race up to the truck, pulling the door open and clambering inside. "Drive!"

Seeing the terror on your face, the trucker does as requested, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The truck speeds off down the road. You wince for a second, when the truck's still slow enough for a werewolf to leap through the windscreen, but thankfully the truck soon picks up speed, and the howls of angry werewolves are left in the distance.

"What the hell happened you?"

"Wolves," you reply simply. "A starved wolf pack attacked me while I was hunting. Thank you so much."

"You look like you've been chewed up, boy."

"Almost," you smile, before laughing, as the night's fear and tension break. "Just keep driving, sir. Get me out of here."

The truck barrels down the road, as you head out from those moonlit woods.
> You lucky Thirteen...
Lucky Thirteen

You soon return to the Lodge, informing them of what happened. The Lodge quickly recalls its Hunters, and prepares a defense that could hold off an army. Thankfully, the werewolves do not attack that night, or the following one.

However, the next night, they do make their move. Under the night of the full moon, they strike. Power grids are knocked off, cell towers are taken down, and vast sections of suburbia are hit, their inhabitants slaughtered. The werewolves kill scores of humans, damaging critical infrastructure. From that night forward, the attacks only intensify, as their plan continues, their numbers growing far beyond what you can contain.

The media doesn't know what to call it. A massive population of rabies-inflicted Wolves beyond what anyone had ever knew of. You're unsure what's to happen now, with the last news you remember being that the National Guard are being localized to deal with the threat. You don't fancy their odds.

Either way, you survived another hunt. Your Lodge has requested support from dozens of other Lodges, trying to find the numbers to help deal with this threat. You don't know if they'll be able. All you do know is that you need to serve as you can.

You survived your thirteenth. Your fourteenth hunt is tomorrow night, and your fifteenth after that. You are no longer a Hunter, you are a soldier in the war against this new threat.

The night is long, and some say that this is the time of Beasts now, and that the time of man is over. You hope they're wrong.


You need to get out of here. There's no use risking your own life to try save your comrades when they're already most likely dead. Your shotgun ready in your hands, you head off down the road. Your body burns and pain shoots through your body, plus the energy sapped in your night's other hunts and surviving the crash means that exhaustion is quickly becoming an issue. You hurry along the road, taking up a steady jog along the road so you don't tire yourself out, but don't spend too long in these wretched woods. You keep your grip tight, as your eyes watch the shadows of the woods around you and struggle to hear the sounds of the surrounding woods over the sound of your tired, slightly panicked breathing.

Several long minutes of jogging, as you try to get out of these woods again. You begin to hear nearby howls, bursting from the nearby forests and nearby undergrowth. Your breath catches in your throat, before you shake your head and continue jogging, speeding up your pace slightly. There's no use panicking.

You hear the howls of the werewolves grow nearer, and you know that they're on your trail. No doubt, they know you'd be following the road back to the Lodge where you came from. You wonder whether it'd be safer to try to lose the pack in the forest around you, or whether you should stay on the road and hope you come across something soon.
> You try to lose them in the undergrowth of the forest
You turn, rushing off the road as you leap off the tarmac onto the dirt of the forest floor. You keep your run fast and steady, boots crushing leaves and twigs underfoot as you maneuver through the trees, trying to keep at least somewhat parallel to the road so you don't end up lost in here. You push your way through the thin branches as quickly as you can, as they gently slap and snag at your clothes. You ignore the pain, barreling forward.

However, it's not long before the other creatures are left on your tail, having caught the scent of your blood and the sound of you trampling over branches and leaves. It's not long before the howls are almost behind you again, and you need to act.
> You keep running
You sprint, running as fast as you can, your lungs burning. Your strides are now more akin to leaps as you fly through the air, charging forward. You hear the growls grow closer, the howls almost being roared right in your ears. You can practically feel the flicks of spit and blood landing on your ear from how close the werewolves' maws are when they howl into you, causing you to shiver with fright. Seconds later, a force like a truck smashes into your back, sending you crumpling to the floor with your legs shattering from the impact. You scream as the creature lands atop your legs, sending pain racing through your body as you spasm. The creature looks down at you, growling.

"My comrades are going to wipe your kind out," you spit, hoping some part of the creature understands you.

The creature's head snaps down, tearing out your throat. He begins digging into your neck, feeding on your blood and flesh as you screams become gargles.


You turn, rushing off the road as you leap off the tarmac onto the dirt of the forest floor. You keep your run fast and steady, boots crushing leaves and twigs underfoot as you maneuver through the trees, trying to keep at least somewhat parallel to the road so you don't end up lost in here. You push your way through the thin branches as quickly as you can, as they gently slap and snag at your clothes. You ignore the pain, barreling forward.

However, it's not long before the other creatures are left on your tail, having caught the scent of your blood and the sound of you trampling over branches and leaves. It's not long before the howls are almost behind you again, and you need to act.
> You hide and wait for them to pass
You quickly scamper into the thickest underbrush, staying low and disappearing into the bushes. You know how to hide well, so you quickly begin covering yourself with dirt and immersing yourself in the leaves, keeping low and quiet. You still your tired breathing, and wait.

You wait for several minutes, as the howls become louder, and louder, before going quiet. You wait carefully, your breath caught in your lungs, as you wait for several minutes.

Suddenly, a lupine maw emerges from the bush in front of you, followed by a pair of blood-red eyes. The werewolf stares at you, growling in a low voice, as you realize the creatures have followed your scent, and surrounding you. The albino wolf that's come across you looks at you with almost sadistic glee, licking its lips.

Almost an hour later, the screams filling the moonlit night finally end, the last few sounds little more than a dying, gargling whimper from a creature so broken and exhausted that they're incapable of even moving, the voice so red raw from screaming that it can barely make a noise. The torn apart, bloody body that is left there is never found, with what remains being food for the worms.


You stand, stern and waiting with your shotgun raised. The Vampire laughs, his fangs bared as he holds them above Father Féval's neck. Father Féval simply stands perfectly still, slowing his breathing as he stares blankly ahead, slowly mouthing "Do it".

"Come on!" the Vampire laughs, reaching his arm down and tapping on exactly where Father Féval's heart is. "Right here. Blow out your friend's heart and maybe you'll get me. You'll get rid of my shield, either way."

With the Vampire's arm having moved around to Father Féval's chest, Father Féval's hand has been released. Father Féval slowly reaches his hand down to his belt, staring ahead. He slowly lifts up his jacket, reaching under to grab the silver crucifix affixed to his belt. He slides the cross free, holding it tightly in his hands. He looks at you, nodding ever so slightly in an almost imperceptible gesture. Father Féval swings his arm back in one solid gesture, jamming the crucifix into the Vampire's eye.

The Vampire screams, a horrible rasping noise of anger and pain beyond what should come out of any human lungs, like the scraping of concrete on concrete. It grabs at the crucifix jamming into it's eye, hissing as Father Féval ducks out of his grasp, rolling to the side, giving you the perfect open target.

You raise your shotgun, aiming it at the vampire's heart. You squeeze the trigger, doing what you should. The blast of lead and burning Magnesium shards tear through the air, bursting forward and exploding through his heart, and causing his flesh and clothes to catch up in flames. He screams out in pain, forced backwards from the sheer force of impact. You pump your shotgun, firing another blast as it hits the Vampire in the head, which snaps back as his head erupts through melting flesh. You pump another, and another, and another round into him, as his inhuman body erupts into fire, flesh turning into ash as he collapses backwards against the wall, the force of the shells leaving the Vampire stumbling back as it gasps. It's flesh continues burning away to ash as the creature collapses to the ground, and soon there's nothing but an ash pile left.

"Thanks," Father Féval nods, looking down at the ash pile that was previously about to tear out his throat. "We should burn this wretched place to the ground and get out of here. Too much of a story here if they find the blood extraction equipment."

A bright ringing noise startles you from behind, and you almost open fire in that direction as you redraw your revolver. You find yourself staring at a simple cellphone sitting on a table, vibrating and ringing away. You pause, looking at it with confusion.

"What is it?" Father Féval asks you.

"A phone," you answer, as you walk over slowly, reaching down and flipping open the phone, lifting it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr Matasan."

Your blood chills for a moment, as you take a deep breath, terror ringing through you.

"And who may I be speaking to?"

"My name is Hrólfr Gaange. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is there something I can help you with?" you ask.

"You don't seem particularly afraid, Mr Matasan."

"Should I be, Mr Gaange?" you ask, trying to keep your calm.

"Of course not. It's just refreshing to speak to a new person without them being so terrified. Now, let's be quite frank, Mr Matasan. You killed one of my agents, and their thrall, did you not?"

"I did," you say, not wanting to waste the time that would've come from lying, since you know the creature's certain about these facts.

"Interesting. Good. He was a weak, impulsive creature. He wasn't useful. Quite frankly, he was a threat to our existence. But you... you could be of assistance to me. You have potential. I want you to work for me."

"No," you reply, almost instantly, prompting a dark chuckle from the bastard.

"I understand. You've dedicated your life to protecting the innocent. But, so have I, Mr Matasan. I may be a vampire, but I do what's necessary for this world. I don't stalk through the streets at night attacking helpless women hiding in their beds. I'm not one of these crass specimens that wants to blot out the sun, or who wants to enslave mankind, or raise a legion of damned souls. I like the world the way it is. And I'm going to keep it safe from darker creatures of the night. I keep the world of darkness under wraps, as you do. I keep my dark brethren in check. I protect society. You could help me with that, and do a far better job than you do as a mortal."

"No," you say again.

"Think about what I'm offering you. Immortality, riches, power, strength, speed, intelligence. Everything you could want."

"I can't do that, Mr Gaange. I think you already knew that, though."

"Oh, I did. But I'm not looking to recruit you right now. I'm offering you a favor. You types never take the power offer. You don't join my side out of power-lust. You join out of desperation. A day will come when you need me. Perhaps you need some arcane knowledge. Perhaps you need money. Perhaps a cure for some unknown disease. Anything you ever need. Just... keep this phone. My number is under Mr Black. Generic, i know. When you need me, call. I can give you anything you want. And what do you lose for that? Your finite mortality, your weakness, your diseases, your poverty... a fair bargain, no."

"I'm not going to..." you begin to see, before a dark voice interupts you.

"Keep the phone. I know you don't think you'll need it, but you might. I'll talk to you sooner or later, Mr Matasan. Best of luck to you tonight. I've heard it'll be a big one."

The phone beeps as Mr Gaange hangs up on you.

"What was it?" Father Féval asks.

"The target's vampiric master."

"What did he say?"

You pause, looking down at your phone as you try to think through what to do. You know Féval wouldn't support you taking the phone, but he doesn't have to know what was discussed.
> You leave the phone
Refusing to make any deals with the enemies you hunt, you drop the phone onto the group, watching it bounce along the hard concrete as it breaks, plastic splintering. You raise your shotgun, firing at it as it explodes in a shower of lead, magnesium and plastic. You step back, shaking your head. No use leaving any potential evidence for the fire department investigating this place.

"Nothing important," you say. "Just threats and bullshit."

"As always," Father Féval says. "Let's get out of here, William. There's nothing left for us here."

Your job done, you quickly set apart eradicating the evidence this place ever existed. The two of you pack up the jars of blood into the truck, for disposal somewhere that won't be investigated. You also take the IV and tubing, before grabbing your fuel cans. You quickly perform the same patterns, spreading it through the house evenly enough, focusing on that you need destroyed and that which is most flammable. With the two of you, the clean-up is surprisingly quickly the two of you working quickly in silence neither one of you wants to break. Once that's done, you head out of the house and set the home alight, watching as the flames run through the house and engulf it in an inferno.

"A job well done," Father Féval nods. "One more soul sent to its judgment. We should get back. There is more work to be done. Unless you would like to watch the house burn? Pyromania is a common turn for many a man in this line of duty, no?"

You don't feel like watching the house burn, not feeling the usual satisfaction of watching a lair of darkness light the shadows as a beacon of warmth and light. You just feel tired, even more so knowing that you're not finished your work tonight.

"No, I'm fine. Let's go," you answer.

Father Féval nods, shaking your hand before returning to his sedan, and heading off into the night. You head back to your truck as well, climbing in and heading off down the road again. The drive goes by quickly, as you turn your radio up until it's almost blaring some inane Norwegian pop song, and continue off down the road.

It's not long before you pull up to the old country house again. The signs of the night's lateness are more obvious, now. A few of the vehicles parked outside are dented or have blood smears or bullet holes, and the Hunters that walk about them seem more exhausted. You head into the house, taking a moment to appreciate the light of the fireplace. But, the night is still young, and you have targets to hit.

You walk towards the sitting room, one of the old house's converted into a "base of operations" of sorts. Although as Hunters, you tend to work independently, only using the Lodge for resources, resupplying and rest, as well as letting them know every so often you're not dead in the long periods of investigation and tracking in trying to find the lairs and dens of beasts, and trying to distinguish psychos and fools from men tainted by the demonic, or worse.

However, it's the night of the Hunt, that beautiful night of the year where you wipe out the monsters that dwell in the shadows in one quick sweep, not even giving the bastards time to flee or figure out what's going on. And on the night of the Hunt, sometimes you need to work together. While maddened werewolves and loner vampires are easy prey with modern technology, hard-work, training and of course the element of surprise, when the creatures of darkness work together, so must you. When that happens, you plan and prepare in the lounge.

You walk into the lodge, finding a large table with a map stretched across it. A half dozen men stand around it, all of whom you recognize as veteran Hunters. The leader of the group is the head of the Lodge, a man known as Ernest Collier. The old man's scarred, wrinkled face smiles at you as you enter. Ernest's too old at his age to still hunt, having since lost the physical peak that Hunters are required to be at, but his mind is strong and he's well experienced. Thus, he serves the cause through leading the lodge. Everything from supplying Hunters to recruiting to planning the larger hunts falls under his purview.

"William. I heard your hunt with Father Féval went well. I'm glad. How did your earlier target go?"

"Successfully," you say simply.

The next man in the room you see is Father Féval, who nods at you once more. As always, cold and calculated.

After him stands former-Unteroffizer Hans Hirsch. The tall man has dark black hair and light eyes, his face decorated with a long scar that goes vertically just left of his left eye. He leans over the table, scanning the map. His finger gently runs across hunting paths through the thick forest as he whispers to himself. Hans is a strange man, with a taste for drink, cigars, cigarettes, whores, gambling... anything he can get his hands on. But, he's a good hunter, having served in the military of his home country and having a great record on all his previous hunts.

The final man is an Alaskan by the name of Russel Sloane. Time has taken the black from his thick beard and the hair from his head, but left the man's strength, speed and cunning, and only given him experience and wisdom for the trade. He's a powerful Hunter, and took the shift from bears and wolves to Kushtaka and Tupilaq with ease. He smiles at you grimly when you enter, his face showing a hint of more worry than usual.

"Are we ready to start?" you ask.

"We're waiting on someone," Russel says.

As you raise an eyebrow, the door swings open and you find yourself staring down at a young boy, barely in his mid teens.

"This is my boy Wyatt. Now that's he's a full man, we'll be taking him on tonight's hunt, showing him how we fight. I filled him in on the details."

"Pleasure to meet y'all," he smiles nervously, as you look him up and down.

He's young, short, weak and skinny. You don't think he should be coming out, but he's a man more than you would normally have for this mission, and you're not going to be telling his father how to raise his own child.

"Take a seat, Wyatt," Ernest smiles. "We're going to go over tonight's details."

Ernest takes a seat, as you stare down at the map ahead of you, which shows you a massive woods, with several hunting paths, potential lairs and scenes of incidents highlighted.

"Let's recap for those who didn't get to hear it directly from me!" Ernest says. "There's been several mauling's in these areas, and we've had reports a werewolf pack is responsible. Not just one werewolf, but an entire pack of about six to twelve creatures. We're taking a small team in their to set up an ambush, draw them out and kill them all. The plans' simple. Take a truck into the woods with a mutilated deer carcass, slathered in human blood. The scent should draw the werewolves into your area, where you'll have set up an overview to take them out. Simple."

You all nod, the review of your plan unnecessary for everyone but Wyatt.

"We're heading off in an hour and a half. I want all of you prepared and by the truck for then, understood?"

There's a chorus of affirmatives, as Ernest smiles.

"Good to know. Best of luck, men."


You retreat to the car, calling into the Lodge. They report back that they've a spare Hunter to send out, one who is only acting on stand-by. Father Paul Féval. You know the man well, and have worked with him before. The man's a representative from the Vatican, a priest even, and as adamant in following the laws of the Bible as you are in never leaving the Lodge without a spare, but the man's a professional and an experienced Hunter. The man's permanent cold, professional demeanor means you'd be hesitant to call him a "friend", but you feel it'd be disrespectful to like anything.

You get in your car, driving back a minute away from the house just for some extra space. Once you're out there, you wait outside your car, your weapons ready in case the vampire or his thrall emerge. The wait is long, but after fifteen minutes, you see a pair of dazzling head beams approaching you. A blackened sedan seems to almost form from the shadows, pulling in behind you.

The sedan's driver door opens, as a tall, gaunt figure with spectacles and a black jacket and pants steps out. His long, bizarrely slender fingers tap against his side as his lips turn upwards very slightly in the barest facsimile of a smile. You know it's simply a polite sign, the man's professional nature means he takes no joy in this, instead simply seeing it as his religious duty.

"William," Father Féval nods. "The Lodge informs me we're dealing with a thrall and a youth, correct?"

"Correct, Father," you nod. "But they might be up."

"Best not to take risks, William. We have enough risks inherent to our job, don't we?"

Father Féval leans into the car, pulling out a vile of holy water. He dribbles it into his hands, blessing himself, before leaning back in and grabbing a silver crucifix. He affixes it to his belt, before flipping his jacket tails back, pulling out a pair of shining pistols. He looks at them both, examining them for a moment, before nodding.

"I'm ready and willing, William."

"Let's go."

The pair of you begin walking down the street, ready to strike. You soon come up again to the house once more, walking up the path towards the house. You know from surveillance that the house has the main entrance as well as a back door. The lounge, dining room and basement are located near the front door. The sitting positions would give anyone in there the sight of the door, but it would allow for the quickest contact. If the vampires awake, eliminating the thrall would give you far better chances against the Vampire shortly afterwards.

"You did the ground work. Suggestions?" Father Féval says unemotionally, seeming entirely focused on the situation with no fear, dread or anticipation.
> You split up and take both entrances
"We split up. Take each side, catch the Thrall in a pincer movement, and get this done."

"Good. I understand. I'll take the back, your weapon is more of a..." Father Féval pauses, looking for the word. "Breaching weapon, no?"

"Fair point. Let's do it."

"Best of luck, my friend. Give me thirty seconds. I'll wait for the gunshot. You walk towards the house, shotgun held tightly in your hands. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Striding forward to the house's wooden door, you raise your shotgun, pointing it at the lock and firing. Booting the door open with a solid kick as you pump the shotgun, the door collapses to the ground as you quickly step through, making contact with the Thrall.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, a short, bearded man with crazed eyes and grime and dirt stuck in his beard and on his face. He shakes his head repeatedly, growling and swearing as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. His blood-shot eyes bulge, as he kicks the table with incredible strength, flipping it onto its side as he dives behind it.

You watch as Father Féval walks into the room, having broken through the back door. He raises his rifles, pointing it as the Thrall's head.

"Hands up," he says.

"You goddamn bastard! We'll take the night back! We'll steal the fucking sun for you! We will rule the darkness, and we will fucking make blood bags of your loved o...!"

"Silencieux," Father Féval says calmly, as the man groans in pain, gritting his teeth. "Les flammes les plus méritées brûlent le plus chaud, pécheur. Que Dieu ait pitié de ce qui reste de votre âme misérable et trouve la miséricorde sur votre âme."

The two pistols fire, the Thrall's face exploding as blood and gore coats his wild hair and thick beard, his head caving in as the bullets carve their way through.

"Let's kill this Vampire and be done with this place," Father Féval says to you.

"Let's," you say, pumping your shotgun as your next shell enters the chamber.
> You take out the coffin
You quickly head down the staircase of the basement, descending into the dark basement, lit by a dim candle. You slow down as you notice the counters piled with jars filled to the brim with red liquid. A bloody metal table sits there with unopened leather straps, a series of tubing and IV's connected to it. You're certain that it's equipment to drain the blood of victims the Thrall captures, to feed his master when he doesn't wish to hunt for himself.

However, the highlight of the room is a large, ornate coffin, leaning against a concrete wall. You've seen enough coffins in your life for any man, but this one is a fairly nice one. It's solid wood, cherry, with brass handles, sitting up on its side so its resident can sleep standing up. The face on the front of the coffin shows a grinning, gargoyle-like face made of brass, its eyes shining at you. You flinch at the sight of it, nervous about what lies behind it.

"Let's do it," Father Féval says.

You hurry up to the coffin, readying your shotgun as Father Féval takes the other side.

"I take the chest, you take the head," you say, as Father Féval nods.

Quickly, the two of you perform the breaching mechanism. Swinging around and standing back, you quickly measure the size of the coffin and roughly calculate where the center of its heart is. You aim, your fingers tightening on the trigger as you fire the weapon, as does Father Féval.

Your shotgun bucks, firing lead and magnesium shards directly through the heavy wood of the coffin. You fire three times as the wood splinters and explodes away, your shells bursting through them as they tear through the coffin. Father Féval's rounds tear through where the head of the vampire should lie, bursting through the wood and hitting through inside. After a few seconds, the sound of gunfire calms as you look at Father Féval.

"Let us confirm the kill," Father Féval says.

Stepping forward, you grab the handle of the coffin and wretch it open, tearing open the splintered and almost destroyed door. Staring inside, you find splintered wood and torn apart coffin, and thankfully, the piles of ash that would indicate a clean kill. The vampire is dead, his body ash, and your task completed.

"Confirmed," you say.

"Thank God above," Father Féval says, showing the slightest traces of a smile. "We should burn this place to the ground and get out of here."

A bright ringing noise startles you from behind, and you almost open fire in that direction as you redraw your revolver. You find yourself staring at a simple cellphone sitting on a table, vibrating and ringing away. You pause, looking at it with confusion.

"What is it?" Father Féval asks you.

"A phone," you answer, as you walk over slowly, reaching down and flipping open the phone, lifting it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr Matasan."

Your blood chills for a moment, as you take a deep breath, terror ringing through you.

"And who may I be speaking to?"

"My name is Hrólfr Gaange. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is there something I can help you with?" you ask.

"You don't seem particularly afraid, Mr Matasan."

"Should I be, Mr Gaange?" you ask, trying to keep your calm.

"Of course not. It's just refreshing to speak to a new person without them being so terrified. Now, let's be quite frank, Mr Matasan. You killed one of my agents, and their thrall, did you not?"

"I did," you say, not wanting to waste the time that would've come from lying, since you know the creature's certain about these facts.

"Interesting. Good. He was a weak, impulsive creature. He wasn't useful. Quite frankly, he was a threat to our existence. But you... you could be of assistance to me. You have potential. I want you to work for me."

"No," you reply, almost instantly, prompting a dark chuckle from the bastard.

"I understand. You've dedicated your life to protecting the innocent. But, so have I, Mr Matasan. I may be a vampire, but I do what's necessary for this world. I don't stalk through the streets at night attacking helpless women hiding in their beds. I'm not one of these crass specimens that wants to blot out the sun, or who wants to enslave mankind, or raise a legion of damned souls. I like the world the way it is. And I'm going to keep it safe from darker creatures of the night. I keep the world of darkness under wraps, as you do. I keep my dark brethren in check. I protect society. You could help me with that, and do a far better job than you do as a mortal."

"No," you say again.

"Think about what I'm offering you. Immortality, riches, power, strength, speed, intelligence. Everything you could want."

"I can't do that, Mr Gaange. I think you already knew that, though."

"Oh, I did. But I'm not looking to recruit you right now. I'm offering you a favor. You types never take the power offer. You don't join my side out of power-lust. You join out of desperation. A day will come when you need me. Perhaps you need some arcane knowledge. Perhaps you need money. Perhaps a cure for some unknown disease. Anything you ever need. Just... keep this phone. My number is under Mr Black. Generic, i know. When you need me, call. I can give you anything you want. And what do you lose for that? Your finite mortality, your weakness, your diseases, your poverty... a fair bargain, no."

"I'm not going to..." you begin to see, before a dark voice interupts you.

"Keep the phone. I know you don't think you'll need it, but you might. I'll talk to you sooner or later, Mr Matasan. Best of luck to you tonight. I've heard it'll be a big one."

The phone beeps as Mr Gaange hangs up on you.

"What was it?" Father Féval asks.

"The target's vampiric master."

"What did he say?"

You pause, looking down at your phone as you try to think through what to do. You know Féval wouldn't support you taking the phone, but he doesn't have to know what was discussed.


After clambering into your pick-up, you head off down the road, speeding along the streets as you head towards your target. The target house, due to the nature of what happens there, is very secluded. This means that it'll be all the easier for you to hit, as you won't have to worry about avoiding witnesses or police detection. You sure as shit don't want another police officer walking in on you mid-execution. You've dealt with it before, and things got... well, best not to let the mind dwell in the shadows.

It's a long drive to your target, so you take the time to mentally prepare yourself, running through the plan again and again. The Vampire's secluded nature means he wakens to feed every two to three nights, before retiring to sleep. It seems the creature still struggles with fatigue, meaning he's particularly untrained in his power. He fed last night, so he should be easy prey. Kill the Thrall, and simply kill the beast in it's coffin.

You pull up far enough away from the target house so not even an awakened vampire could hear its engine rumbling or see the flickers of its light. You kill the lights and leave the engine running, just in case you need a quick get away, before stepping out of your car, grabbing your weapon and making your way up the road.

The veil of darkness that hung over the early night sky has been pulled from the sky, revealing the beauty of the stars. The moon shines bright, big and round like a light, surrounded by a billion shining stars that dot the heaves. It's stunningly beautiful, you must admit. The moon almost seems full, but you know it's not. The full moon has a tendency to alight some passion into the hearts of beasts, so the Lodge never has a hunt on those nights. However, nights lit by the moon are often the safest and brightest, so you tend to pick nights close to it. Best to have a bright sky watching over you when venturing into the shadows.

Heading towards the house, you keep the shotgun tight in your hands, ready to fire at a moment's notice, the dragon's breath rounds in the chamber. You see the lights . The thrall should be asleep, as should his master. It's nearly two, and the man's frantic work last night in capturing prey for his master should've left the exhausted bastard craving sleep. Never mind. Him being awake only heightens the challenge. As long as his master's asleep, this should be doable.

Although, if he's awake, it's out of schedule. Perhaps something's afoot, and perhaps his master is too. If that's the case, perhaps you should lean on the safer side of things.

Then again, it is the night of the hunt. Calling on back-up means depriving a Hunter from somewhere else, and that could have lasting consequences. Perhaps another team is short a member, and a Necromancer's flesh hounds get the drop on them. Perhaps a Skinwalker manages to escape the trap set for him, and hunt fresh prey in the safety of the far north, away from your reach. Either way, your actions, as always in this field, have consequences.
> You head in alone
You frown, deciding that you can't take away reinforcements on such an important night. You still have the drop on the Thrall, and despite his vampiric favor, he's a simple mortal with a beating heart that can be stop and fresh blood that can be spilled. You're going to take him out ,and remind his master of how much mortality stings. With fresh-faced determination, you walk forward towards the house.

You walk with steady, certain steps up towards the house. You know from surveillance that the house has the main entrance as well as a back door. The lounge, dining room and basement are located near the front door. The sitting positions would give anyone in there the sight of the door, but it would allow for the quickest contact. If the vampire's awake, eliminating the thrall would give you far better chances against the Vampire shortly afterwards.

So, the only question left before you dive in the throes of nightmarish battle is whether you're going in through the front door or the back door.
> You head in the front door
You decide the front's the easiest option. You don't want to waste time messing about while the Vampire can be awoken at any point, because even with your skill and the element of surprise, a Thrall and his Vampire master are a serious threat. You need to do this quick and clean, and make sure you get the drop on the Vampire before's he's out of his coffin.

You walk towards the house, shotgun held tightly in your hands. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Striding forward to the house's wooden door, you raise your shotgun, pointing it at the lock and firing. Booting the door open with a solid kick as you pump the shotgun, the door collapses to the ground as you quickly step through, making contact with the Thrall.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, a short, bearded man with crazed eyes and grime and dirt stuck in his beard and on his face. He shakes his head repeatedly, growling and swearing as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. His blood-shot eyes bulge, as he kicks the table with incredible strength, flipping it onto its side as he dives behind it. You immediately open fire, bullets and shotgun blasts easily tearing through the table, but it was a simply distraction, and the Thrall's already ducked behind the kitchen counter.

Suddenly, you see the barrel of a gun emerge from behind the kitchen counter, as the Thrall attempts to fight back. The gun's muzzle flashes and screams with the crackling of gunfire, and you dive behind cover, scrambling behind the corner of a wall, ready to fend off your opponent. You exchange fire with the Thrall, but he's hidden in cover and just firing her with potshots, and thus you don't really have a shot at him. It's clear he's trying to wait out the awakening of his master, so it's

Retreating, as always, seems promising. The racket you're causing has no doubt awoken the vile monster you've come here to kill, and there's no use dying for no reason. You can also hold out patiently, wait for the Thrall to peek his head out and take him down, so you can secure the chance to fight the Vampire one-on-one. Of course, if you can rush the Thrall from his flank and take him out quickly, you'll be able to take down the Vampire while he's still slumbering in his coffin.
> You retreat to the truck
Knowing that staying there is a slaughter and every second you spend fighting is only going to make it more likely the sound of death and smell of flesh blood is going to awaken the thrall's master, you know you don't have a chance here. You break for the door, sprinting low and fast as your shotgun swings in your hands. Bullets land all around you, splintering the wooden door frame and embedding themselves in the wall around you as the Thrall tries to cut you down before you can escape, but you speed past and out of his line of fire. You leap forward with every step, quickly bursting out the front door as you sprint towards your truck.

You're running as fast as you're able, when suddenly, you get hit from the side with the strength of a truck. You're sent flying through the air before you can even realize what happens, as you skid along the cold earth and roll to a halt, feeling your now broken jaw smack into the frozen tundra. You lie there, broken and hurt, as you try to pull yourself to your feet. As soon as you put weight on your knee you're put through incredible pain and forced to do nothing but grit your teeth and bear it.

"You seem tired, Hunter," a voice says.

Your voice chills when you hear the voice, but you know it's not the time for tears. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

"Hello," the Vampire smiles, revealing a fanged mouth stretching from ear to ear. "And of course, goodbye."

"Fucking... blood thirsty... prick," you say, struggling to keep from collapsing to the ground.

The Vampire strolls forward, savoring this moment, as his smile stretches further and further across his face, almost seeming to cut it in half. He lifts a polished boot into the air, placing it on your broken leg. He applies pressure, and you grit your teeth and try not to give him the satisfaction of screaming.

"A strong one. Your lodge will weep tonight. You can die quick, Hunter."

The Vampire slowly drops down to his knees, as you struggle to reach for your revolver at your side. You're far too late, though, as she grabs your head gently. You breath carefully, before he snaps your neck in a single motion.


You decide the front's the easiest option. You don't want to waste time messing about while the Vampire can be awoken at any point, because even with your skill and the element of surprise, a Thrall and his Vampire master are a serious threat. You need to do this quick and clean, and make sure you get the drop on the Vampire before's he's out of his coffin.

You walk towards the house, shotgun held tightly in your hands. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Striding forward to the house's wooden door, you raise your shotgun, pointing it at the lock and firing. Booting the door open with a solid kick as you pump the shotgun, the door collapses to the ground as you quickly step through, making contact with the Thrall.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, a short, bearded man with crazed eyes and grime and dirt stuck in his beard and on his face. He shakes his head repeatedly, growling and swearing as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. His blood-shot eyes bulge, as he kicks the table with incredible strength, flipping it onto its side as he dives behind it. You immediately open fire, bullets and shotgun blasts easily tearing through the table, but it was a simply distraction, and the Thrall's already ducked behind the kitchen counter.

Suddenly, you see the barrel of a gun emerge from behind the kitchen counter, as the Thrall attempts to fight back. The gun's muzzle flashes and screams with the crackling of gunfire, and you dive behind cover, scrambling behind the corner of a wall, ready to fend off your opponent. You exchange fire with the Thrall, but he's hidden in cover and just firing her with potshots, and thus you don't really have a shot at him. It's clear he's trying to wait out the awakening of his master, so it's

Retreating, as always, seems promising. The racket you're causing has no doubt awoken the vile monster you've come here to kill, and there's no use dying for no reason. You can also hold out patiently, wait for the Thrall to peek his head out and take him down, so you can secure the chance to fight the Vampire one-on-one. Of course, if you can rush the Thrall from his flank and take him out quickly, you'll be able to take down the Vampire while he's still slumbering in his coffin.
> You hold out and wait for the Thrall to peek his head out for your shot
You keep your position, taking pot shots at the Thrall as he fires back at you, but neither one of you is able to get anywhere close. You wait patiently, ready for the Thrall to peek his head out. The crazed, drug-addled man is well trained by his master, but he's still lacking in any real training or discipline, so you just need your chance. The seconds you wait feel like an eternity, the sound of gunfire bursting out and tearing away the veil of silence.

"Playing with the slave, Hunter?" a voice says.

Your voice chills when you hear the voice. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

"Hello," the Vampire smiles, revealing a fanged mouth stretching from ear to ear.

The Vampire is nearly upon you, and you need to decide whether to open fire and hope you have a chance, even with him at the edge of tearing you apart, or you can try make a break for the back door.
> You open fire on the Vampire
You raise your shotgun through the air, but the Vampire's reflexes are faster. He bursts forward, grabbing the shotgun by it's barrel and flinging it across the room.

"And of course, goodbye, little Hunter."

The Vampire bursts forward, grabbing you by the neck and pinning you against the counter, his knee smashing into your chest and pinning you down against the counter. You groan in pain as ribs break, as the Vampire's smile stretches further and further across his face, almost seeming to cut it in half. He jams his knee further into your chest as you scream, pain burning and shooting through your chest, and you grit your teeth and try not to give him the satisfaction of screaming.

"A strong one. Your lodge will weep tonight. You can die quick, Hunter."

The Vampire pulls his knee back, before ramming it through your chest with all his strength with a laugh. You feel your organs crushed as they explode through, and you go limp, the eyes rolling to the back of your head.


You keep your position, taking pot shots at the Thrall as he fires back at you, but neither one of you is able to get anywhere close. You wait patiently, ready for the Thrall to peek his head out. The crazed, drug-addled man is well trained by his master, but he's still lacking in any real training or discipline, so you just need your chance. The seconds you wait feel like an eternity, the sound of gunfire bursting out and tearing away the veil of silence.

"Playing with the slave, Hunter?" a voice says.

Your voice chills when you hear the voice. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

"Hello," the Vampire smiles, revealing a fanged mouth stretching from ear to ear.

The Vampire is nearly upon you, and you need to decide whether to open fire and hope you have a chance, even with him at the edge of tearing you apart, or you can try make a break for the back door.
> You charge the Thrall to fight your way out

You turn, barreling around the corner as fast as you can while you fire a shotgun blast. The Vampire laughs watching you run. You speed out from the counter, hurrying forward, as the Thrall lets out a burst of manic laughter, copying his master.

The assault rifle's barrel bursts out in a scream of gunfire, and your scream soon answers it.

After facing tooth, claw, demonic possession and worse, it's a simple bullet that takes you down. You collapse to the ground, your body shaking as blood pools around you.

You feel the air knocked out of your lungs as you bounce against the wall and collapse to your knees. For a moment, you just feel a cold swelling through you as you're left unable to breathe, before the pain begins to burn its way through your chest.

Gasping for breath that won't fill your lungs as you find them filling with warm, wet, blood instead, and you're left drowning in it. You manage to pull a few strangled breaths from the air, as you stay on your knee, knowing that if you collapse you'll end up letting the darkness taken.

"Aah... you look appetizing, don't you?" the Vampire smiles.

"Fucking... blood thirsty... prick," you say, struggling to keep from collapsing to the ground.

The Vampire slowly walks forward. You know he could strike far faster, but the vampire seems to be savoring his kill.

You go to your revolver, hidden at your side, grabbing the ivory handle as you attempt to draw your gun. You fumble to pull it from the safety of its holster, before the Vampire grabs his wrist, bending your arm behind your back as you scream. His jaw snaps forward, a fanged mouth tearing into your neck. You let out a scream, teeth bursting through flesh and slicing into veins. Your body weakens in the creature's grasp as it begins to drain you of your blood, and the world rapidly goes dark as blood loss takes you.


You decide the front's the easiest option. You don't want to waste time messing about while the Vampire can be awoken at any point, because even with your skill and the element of surprise, a Thrall and his Vampire master are a serious threat. You need to do this quick and clean, and make sure you get the drop on the Vampire before's he's out of his coffin.

You walk towards the house, shotgun held tightly in your hands. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Striding forward to the house's wooden door, you raise your shotgun, pointing it at the lock and firing. Booting the door open with a solid kick as you pump the shotgun, the door collapses to the ground as you quickly step through, making contact with the Thrall.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, a short, bearded man with crazed eyes and grime and dirt stuck in his beard and on his face. He shakes his head repeatedly, growling and swearing as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. His blood-shot eyes bulge, as he kicks the table with incredible strength, flipping it onto its side as he dives behind it. You immediately open fire, bullets and shotgun blasts easily tearing through the table, but it was a simply distraction, and the Thrall's already ducked behind the kitchen counter.

Suddenly, you see the barrel of a gun emerge from behind the kitchen counter, as the Thrall attempts to fight back. The gun's muzzle flashes and screams with the crackling of gunfire, and you dive behind cover, scrambling behind the corner of a wall, ready to fend off your opponent. You exchange fire with the Thrall, but he's hidden in cover and just firing her with potshots, and thus you don't really have a shot at him. It's clear he's trying to wait out the awakening of his master, so it's

Retreating, as always, seems promising. The racket you're causing has no doubt awoken the vile monster you've come here to kill, and there's no use dying for no reason. You can also hold out patiently, wait for the Thrall to peek his head out and take him down, so you can secure the chance to fight the Vampire one-on-one. Of course, if you can rush the Thrall from his flank and take him out quickly, you'll be able to take down the Vampire while he's still slumbering in his coffin.
> You charge the Thrall from his flank
You charge forward, raising your shotgun into the air as you run low and fast, fingers ready on the trigger. You emerge from behind your choice of cover, rushing forward as you raise your shotgun, firing through the thrall's chest. He screams, his clothes lighting into flames as he screams, catapulted into the wall. He lets lose with his rifle, either as his twitching body pulls the trigger or in one last burst of dying energy, and bullets slam into your chest.

You feel the air knocked out of your lungs as you bounce against the wall and collapse to your knees. For a moment, you just feel a cold swelling through you as you're left unable to breathe, before the pain begins to burn its way through your chest.

Gasping for breath that won't fill your lungs as you find them filling with warm, wet, blood instead, and you're left drowning in it. You manage to pull a few strangled breaths from the air, as you stay on your knee, knowing that if you collapse you'll end up letting the darkness taken. All you can think is that you can't fall out, and you should've clalled for fucking back-up.

Then, somewhere in your struggle, you hear loud footsteps to your right. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

"Hello," the Vampire smiles, revealing a fanged mouth stretching from ear to ear. "And of course, goodbye."

"Fucking... blood thirsty... prick," you say, struggling to keep from collapsing to the ground.

The Vampire slowly walks forward, it's grin stretching further and further until it seems like it should be tearing its face in two. You know he could strike far faster, but the vampire seems to be savoring his kill.

You go to your revolver, hidden at your side, grabbing the ivory handle as you attempt to draw your gun. You fumble to pull it from the safety of its holster, before the Vampire grabs his wrist, bending your arm behind your back as you scream. His jaw snaps forward, a fanged mouth tearing into your neck. You let out a scream, teeth bursting through flesh and slicing into veins. Your body weakens in the creature's grasp as it begins to drain you of your blood, and the world rapidly goes dark as blood loss takes you.


You frown, deciding that you can't take away reinforcements on such an important night. You still have the drop on the Thrall, and despite his vampiric favor, he's a simple mortal with a beating heart that can be stop and fresh blood that can be spilled. You're going to take him out ,and remind his master of how much mortality stings. With fresh-faced determination, you walk forward towards the house.

You walk with steady, certain steps up towards the house. You know from surveillance that the house has the main entrance as well as a back door. The lounge, dining room and basement are located near the front door. The sitting positions would give anyone in there the sight of the door, but it would allow for the quickest contact. If the vampire's awake, eliminating the thrall would give you far better chances against the Vampire shortly afterwards.

So, the only question left before you dive in the throes of nightmarish battle is whether you're going in through the front door or the back door.
> You head in the back door
The back door, you decide. You want to ensure you get the drop on the Thrall, and don't end up in a firefight with the man, or else the vampire will have time to awaken from his internal, dreamless slumber, and then you don't have a chance in hell. With that decided, you walk towards the house, shotgun gripped tightly in your hand. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Moving slowly and softly through the garden around to the back, you still your breathing and do your best to be as soundless as the shadows. You creep through the rose bushes, whose petals look almost eerily beautiful in the moonlight. The sky's light brightens your path, but also makes it harder to sneak, and you just stay low and hope that if the Thrall happens to be looking out the window, he isn't looking too hard.

Edging around to the back, you draw close to the wooden door. You move to the door, standing ready, before striking. Taking a deep breath, you growl, ready to act. You raise your shotgun, firing through the door's lock as you boot it open, quickly stepping through the now opened doorway and into the house.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, his back turned to you.The Thrall is a short, bearded man, growling and shaking his head repeatedly as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to. The man quickly turns, his crazed, blood-shot eyes bulging at you as he sees you.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. With a roar, he charges for you.
> You reload and fire
You pump your shotgun, as the crazed man leaps through the air towards you. Rolling back, your hands clench and pull the trigger, firing a burst of flames and metal through the air in a noise like a dragon's roar firing straight through the thrall's chest. He gasps, his clothes lighting into flames as he's catapulted into the wall. He slides down the wall, screaming out in anger and pain, a noise of such intense rage that it chills you.

Marching forward, you aim your shotgun to his head.

"You goddamn bastard! We'll take the night back! We'll steal the fucking sun for you! We will rule the darkness, and we will fucking make blood bags of your loved o...!"

You fire the round, the man's head exploding. You've listened to enough insane ramblings in your day, so you're not bothering with the man. With him dead, you've one target left.
> You take out the coffin
You quickly head down the staircase of the basement, descending into the dark basement, lit by a dim candle. You slow down as you notice the counters piled with jars filled to the brim with red liquid. A bloody metal table sits there with unopened leather straps, a series of tubing and IV's connected to it. You're certain that it's equipment to drain the blood of victims the Thrall captures, to feed his master when he doesn't wish to hunt for himself.

However, the highlight of the room is a large, ornate coffin, leaning against a concrete wall. You've seen enough coffins in your life for any man, but this one is a fairly nice one. It's solid wood, cherry, with brass handles, sitting up on its side so its resident can sleep standing up. The face on the front of the coffin shows a grinning, gargoyle-like face made of brass, its eyes shining at you. You flinch at the sight of it, nervous about what lies behind it.

You hurry up to the coffin, readying your shotgun to perform the breaching actions. Swinging around and standing back, you quickly measure the size of the coffin and roughly calculate where the center of its heart is. You aim, your fingers tightening on the trigger as you fire the weapon.

Your shotgun bucks, firing lead and magnesium shards directly through the heavy wood of the coffin. You fire four times as the wood splinters and explodes away, your shells bursting through them as they tear through the coffin, swiveling your aim between where the head and heart should lie. After a few seconds, you pause, quickly reloading your shotgun as you step back, hoping the creature lies dead inside there.

Stepping forward, you grab the handle of the coffin and wretch it open, tearing open the splintered and almost destroyed door. Staring inside, you find splintered wood and torn apart coffin... but no vampire, or no ash to show a clean kill.

"That was expensive," a dark, chilling voice says. "You'll pay for that."

Your voice chills when you hear the voice, but you know it's not the time for tears. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure, baring a pair of ivory daggers that descend from its upper jaw. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

The creature dashes forward, grabbing your shotgun by the handle and punching you in the stomach. He quickly begins to wrest the shotgun out of your hands as you use all your strength to stop it, fighting for control of your weapon while using your knees to keep the vampire far enough away from you so that it's fangs can't sink into your flesh and drain you of your blood.
> You fight for control of the shotgun
You grab the shotgun with both hands, tightening your grip and trying your best to wrestle it out of the Vampire's hand, but he's far stronger than you. The Vampire grabs your wrist, pulling it behind your back and forcing you to the ground. There's a painful snap as you feel your arm break in half, and you let out a horrified scream. The Vampire pulls the shotgun from your broken grip, laughing.

"I thought you Hunters were supposed to be threats," he laughs.

"You're never going to feel the sun on your face, you monster," you groan.

The Vampire lifts the shotgun into the air, smashing it against your head as you scream. The creature repeatedly smashes the butt of your shotgun against your skull, hitting you again and again and again as your skull is crushed into the concrete floor, blood and brains leaking in a puddle around your shattered form.


You quickly head down the staircase of the basement, descending into the dark basement, lit by a dim candle. You slow down as you notice the counters piled with jars filled to the brim with red liquid. A bloody metal table sits there with unopened leather straps, a series of tubing and IV's connected to it. You're certain that it's equipment to drain the blood of victims the Thrall captures, to feed his master when he doesn't wish to hunt for himself.

However, the highlight of the room is a large, ornate coffin, leaning against a concrete wall. You've seen enough coffins in your life for any man, but this one is a fairly nice one. It's solid wood, cherry, with brass handles, sitting up on its side so its resident can sleep standing up. The face on the front of the coffin shows a grinning, gargoyle-like face made of brass, its eyes shining at you. You flinch at the sight of it, nervous about what lies behind it.

You hurry up to the coffin, readying your shotgun to perform the breaching actions. Swinging around and standing back, you quickly measure the size of the coffin and roughly calculate where the center of its heart is. You aim, your fingers tightening on the trigger as you fire the weapon.

Your shotgun bucks, firing lead and magnesium shards directly through the heavy wood of the coffin. You fire four times as the wood splinters and explodes away, your shells bursting through them as they tear through the coffin, swiveling your aim between where the head and heart should lie. After a few seconds, you pause, quickly reloading your shotgun as you step back, hoping the creature lies dead inside there.

Stepping forward, you grab the handle of the coffin and wretch it open, tearing open the splintered and almost destroyed door. Staring inside, you find splintered wood and torn apart coffin... but no vampire, or no ash to show a clean kill.

"That was expensive," a dark, chilling voice says. "You'll pay for that."

Your voice chills when you hear the voice, but you know it's not the time for tears. Turning your head, you find yourself staring up at a tall, deathly pale figure, baring a pair of ivory daggers that descend from its upper jaw. It's skin seems almost entirely hairless except for the thick black hair that hangs down from its head. Its eyes, however... its blood red eyes betray an inhumanity that you'll never be able to comprehend.

The creature dashes forward, grabbing your shotgun by the handle and punching you in the stomach. He quickly begins to wrest the shotgun out of your hands as you use all your strength to stop it, fighting for control of your weapon while using your knees to keep the vampire far enough away from you so that it's fangs can't sink into your flesh and drain you of your blood.
> You release your grip on the shotgun and draw your revolver
You release your grip on the shotgun, allowing the Vampire to tear it free from himself as you rapidly backpedal, grabbing the revolver at your side and drawing it in one smooth motion. You aim the revolver at the vampire's chest. For a moment, you see the smile drop from the vampire's face as you open fire, releasing a burst of silver bullets from your gun. The silver bullets embed themselves directly in the Vampire's heart as it topples back, the force of the bullets leaving the Vampire stumbling back as it gasps. It's flesh begins burning away to ash as the creature collapses to the ground, and soon there's nothing but an ash pile left.

You gasp, leaning back as you sigh, putting away your revolver. You look down at the pile of ash, walking forward as you drop to your knees, searching through the ash to recover your spent bullets. You pull them out, stuffing them into your pocket to be reforged into fresh bullets later. With that, you stand.

A bright ringing noise startles you from behind, and you almost open fire in that direction as you redraw your revolver. You find yourself staring at a simple cellphone sitting on a table, vibrating and ringing away. You pause, looking at it with confusion.

You walk over slowly, reaching down and flipping open the phone, lifting it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr Matasan."

Your blood chills for a moment, as you take a deep breath, terror ringing through you.

"And who may I be speaking to?"

"My name is Hrólfr Gaange. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is there something I can help you with?" you ask.

"You don't seem particularly afraid, Mr Matasan."

"Should I be, Mr Gaange?" you ask, trying to keep your calm.

"Of course not. It's just refreshing to speak to a new person without them being so terrified. Now, let's be quite frank, Mr Matasan. You killed one of my agents, and their thrall, did you not?"

"I did," you say, not wanting to waste the time that would've come from lying, since you know the creature's certain about these facts.

"Interesting. Good. He was a weak, impulsive creature. He wasn't useful. Quite frankly, he was a threat to our existence. But you... you could be of assistance to me. You have potential. I want you to work for me."

"No," you reply, almost instantly, prompting a dark chuckle from the bastard.

"I understand. You've dedicated your life to protecting the innocent. But, so have I, Mr Matasan. I may be a vampire, but I do what's necessary for this world. I don't stalk through the streets at night attacking helpless women hiding in their beds. I'm not one of these crass specimens that wants to blot out the sun, or who wants to enslave mankind, or raise a legion of damned souls. I like the world the way it is. And I'm going to keep it safe from darker creatures of the night. I keep the world of darkness under wraps, as you do. I keep my dark brethren in check. I protect society. You could help me with that, and do a far better job than you do as a mortal."

"No," you say again.

"Think about what I'm offering you. Immortality, riches, power, strength, speed, intelligence. Everything you could want."

"I can't do that, Mr Gaange. I think you already knew that, though."

"Oh, I did. But I'm not looking to recruit you right now. I'm offering you a favor. You types never take the power offer. You don't join my side out of power-lust. You join out of desperation. A day will come when you need me. Perhaps you need some arcane knowledge. Perhaps you need money. Perhaps a cure for some unknown disease. Anything you ever need. Just... keep this phone. My number is under Mr Black. Generic, i know. When you need me, call. I can give you anything you want. And what do you lose for that? Your finite mortality, your weakness, your diseases, your poverty... a fair bargain, no."

"I'm not going to..." you begin to see, before a dark voice interrupts you.

"Keep the phone. I know you don't think you'll need it, but you might. I'll talk to you sooner or later, Mr Matasan. Best of luck to you tonight. I've heard it'll be a big one."

The phone beeps as Mr Gaange hangs up on you. You pause, looking down at your phone as you try to think through what to do.
> You take the phone
Thinking long and hard, you decide to take the phone. Perhaps it could be of some use. Maybe. Hopefully, you never have to use it, but you didn't survive this long in the field by turning away potential gifts, and you're not going to start now. Everything you can use in the fight against darkness, you will use. You slide the phone into one of your secure pockets, buttoning it up and patting it to make sure it's secure.

Your job done, you quickly set apart eradicating the evidence this place ever existed. You pack up the jars of blood into the truck, for disposal somewhere that won't be investigated. You also take the IV and tubing, before grabbing your fuel cans. You quickly perform the same patterns, spreading it through the house evenly enough, focusing on that you need destroyed and that which is most flammable. Once that's done, you head out of the house and set the home alight, watching as the flames run through the house and engulf it in an inferno.

You don't feel like watching it, not feeling the usual satisfaction of watching a lair of darkness light the shadows as a beacon of warmth and light. You just feel tired, even more so knowing that you're not finished your work tonight.

You head back to your truck, climbing in and heading off down the road again. The drive goes by quickly, as you turn your radio up until it's almost blaring some inane Norwegian pop song, and continue off down the road.

It's not long before you pull up to the old country house again. The signs of the night's lateness are more obvious, now. A few of the vehicles parked outside are dented or have blood smears or bullet holes, and the Hunters that walk about them seem more exhausted. You head into the house, taking a moment to appreciate the light of the fireplace. But, the night is still young, and you have targets to hit.

You walk towards the sitting room, one of the old house's converted into a "base of operations" of sorts. Although as Hunters, you tend to work independently, only using the Lodge for resources, resupplying and rest, as well as letting them know every so often you're not dead in the long periods of investigation and tracking in trying to find the lairs and dens of beasts, and trying to distinguish psychos and fools from men tainted by the demonic, or worse.

However, it's the night of the Hunt, that beautiful night of the year where you wipe out the monsters that dwell in the shadows in one quick sweep, not even giving the bastards time to flee or figure out what's going on. And on the night of the Hunt, sometimes you need to work together. While maddened werewolves and loner vampires are easy prey with modern technology, hard-work, training and of course the element of surprise, when the creatures of darkness work together, so must you. When that happens, you plan and prepare in the lounge.

You walk into the lodge, finding a large table with a map stretched across it. A half dozen men stand around it, all of whom you recognize as veteran Hunters. The leader of the group is the head of the Lodge, a man known as Ernest Collier. The old man's scarred, wrinkled face smiles at you as you enter. Ernest's too old at his age to still hunt, having since lost the physical peak that Hunters are required to be at, but his mind is strong and he's well experienced. Thus, he serves the cause through leading the lodge. Everything from supplying Hunters to recruiting to planning the larger hunts falls under his purview.

"William. How have your two hunts been?" he asks.

"Successfully," you say simply.

The next man is Father Féval, a tall, gaunt figure with spectacles dressed in black. His lips turn upwards in the barest facsimile of a smile as he looks at you. You know he's only trying to be polite, his professional, cold nature means he rarely takes joy, and lives of a live of abstinence and religious duty. You retreat to the car, calling into the Lodge. They report back that they've a spare Hunter to send out, one who is only acting on stand-by. Father Paul Féval. You know the man well, and have worked with him before. The man's a representative from the Vatican, a priest even, and as adamant in following the laws of the Bible as you are in never leaving the Lodge without a spare, but the man's a professional and an experienced Hunter. The man's permanent cold, professional demeanor means you'd be hesitant to call him a "friend", but you feel it'd be disrespectful to like anything.

After him stands former-Unteroffizer Hans Hirsch. The tall man has dark black hair and light eyes, his face decorated with a long scar that goes vertically just left of his left eye. He leans over the table, scanning the map. His finger gently runs across hunting paths through the thick forest as he whispers to himself. Hans is a strange man, with a taste for drink, cigars, cigarettes, whores, gambling... anything he can get his hands on. But, he's a good hunter, having served in the military of his home country and having a great record on all his previous hunts.

The final man is an Alaskan by the name of Russel Sloane. Time has taken the black from his thick beard and the hair from his head, but left the man's strength, speed and cunning, and only given him experience and wisdom for the trade. He's a powerful Hunter, and took the shift from bears and wolves to Kushtaka and Tupilaq with ease. He smiles at you grimly when you enter, his face showing a hint of more worry than usual.

"Are we ready to start?" you ask.

"We're waiting on someone," Russel says.

As you raise an eyebrow, the door swings open and you find yourself staring down at a young boy, barely in his mid teens.

"This is my boy Wyatt. Now that's he's a full man, we'll be taking him on tonight's hunt, showing him how we fight. I filled him in on the details."

"Pleasure to meet y'all," he smiles nervously, as you look him up and down.

He's young, short, weak and skinny. You don't think he should be coming out, but he's a man more than you would normally have for this mission, and you're not going to be telling his father how to raise his own child.

"Take a seat, Wyatt," Ernest smiles. "We're going to go over tonight's details."

Ernest takes a seat, as you stare down at the map ahead of you, which shows you a massive woods, with several hunting paths, potential lairs and scenes of incidents highlighted.

"Let's recap for those who didn't get to hear it directly from me!" Ernest says. "There's been several mauling's in these areas, and we've had reports a werewolf pack is responsible. Not just one werewolf, but an entire pack of about six to twelve creatures. We're taking a small team in their to set up an ambush, draw them out and kill them all. The plans' simple. Take a truck into the woods with a mutilated deer carcass, slathered in human blood. The scent should draw the werewolves into your area, where you'll have set up an overview to take them out. Simple."

You all nod, the review of your plan unnecessary for everyone but Wyatt.

"We're heading off in an hour and a half. I want all of you prepared and by the truck for then, understood?"

There's a chorus of affirmatives, as Ernest smiles.

"Good to know. Best of luck, men."


The back door, you decide. You want to ensure you get the drop on the Thrall, and don't end up in a firefight with the man, or else the vampire will have time to awaken from his internal, dreamless slumber, and then you don't have a chance in hell. With that decided, you walk towards the house, shotgun gripped tightly in your hand. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head.

Moving slowly and softly through the garden around to the back, you still your breathing and do your best to be as soundless as the shadows. You creep through the rose bushes, whose petals look almost eerily beautiful in the moonlight. The sky's light brightens your path, but also makes it harder to sneak, and you just stay low and hope that if the Thrall happens to be looking out the window, he isn't looking too hard.

Edging around to the back, you draw close to the wooden door. You move to the door, standing ready, before striking. Taking a deep breath, you growl, ready to act. You raise your shotgun, firing through the door's lock as you boot it open, quickly stepping through the now opened doorway and into the house.

The Thrall stands in the kitchen, his back turned to you.The Thrall is a short, bearded man, growling and shaking his head repeatedly as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to. The man quickly turns, his crazed, blood-shot eyes bulging at you as he sees you.

His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. With a roar, he charges for you.
> You smash him aside with the butt of your shotgun
You swing your shotgun as hard as you can, the stock of your shotgun flying into his face. The shotgun butt smacks into his face, shattering the bridge of his nose and sending teeth and blood flying and spewing across the floor.

The man stands there, with a broken nose and blood streaming down his face, skin torn and fleshed bruised, but still standing there. He roars, grabbing you and flinging you into the wall. You smack into the wall, sliding down it onto the ground as you groan in pain. The Thrall rushes forward, drawing a knife as he rams it into your stomach.

You gasp, as the steel pierces and cuts through flesh and guts, and the Thrall precedes to repeatedly and aggressively penetrate your stomach. Blood, stomach acid and the remains of food begin pouring out of your open wound and running down your stomach as death quickly drags you into the endless darkness.


You wake up in your cabin in the woods. You sit up and scratch some fleas that have infested your body. You also realize its still daylight. You hate waking up early.

You lope into the bathroom and look in the mirror where you see a canine face covered in gray fur, you remember a time when your fur was completely brown.

“You’re getting old Wolf” you say to yourself like you always do while trying to look on the bright side that at least you don’t have the mange. You think you’d just put a silver bullet in your head if you ever started to go bald.

After eating some left over mutton in the fridge and some Gummy Blobs (for the sugar “pick me up”) you ponder how you’re going to pay this month’s rent on your cabin. You call your agent Erik and see if that little pissant has found any work for you. Hopefully it’s an actual job and not just a guest speaker spot at a comic convention.

“Erik! It’s me Wolf! Pick up the fucking phone! I know you’re there!” you say when you get the answering machine.

“Erik! Get on the phone NOW, or I’m gonna go over there and shove a pipe organ up your ass!”

That got his attention.

“Wolf, I’m sorry, but I fear I’m in a deep depression.”
“What else is new? Look I need some work, got anything? I don’t even care if it’s straight to video. I just need some of the green stuff!”
“Sadly, I don’t think I do, but then I haven’t really checked…I’m so depressed. I’ve been wondering if I made the right decisions in my life…and now it’s too late for me to do anything about it, because I’m old…”
“Join the fucking club Erik! Look do you…”
“But my art, my music, that is my love and its failing me again. My latest opera isn’t doing well. I wonder if I chose the wrong thing to love and pursue. Just like I did with Christine. Oh Christine WHY couldn’t you have loved me? I loved you…”

Wonderful, he’s in full blown tortured artist mode. He can go on like this forever. You can either give up, or persist in getting something out of him.
> You persist
“Oh boo fucking hoo, your latest Opera hasn’t been doing too well lately. At least people are paying to see the goddamn thing! As bad of a composer, and musician you are, you oughta be glad anyone’s even paying to see the goddamn thing! People don’t want to see anything with me in it! And at least you’ve got another job to fall back on LIKE BEING AN AGENT THAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING ME A FUCKING JOB!” you snarl.

There’s some dead air briefly and then Erik begins talking again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be complaining about my problems to you. You of course know all about torment. A war that wages within you, a beast that…”
“Erik I’ve got no time and I’m in no mood to hear how we’re supposed to be kindred spirits, you just better tell me you found something for me and it better not be another guest speaker spot at a comic convention!”
“Well let’s see…I dunno. Werewolves aren’t popular anymore you know…there might be something…here it is! It’s called Wolf Pack.”
“Pack? That implies more than one wolf on the set there Erik. Well I suppose I can share the spotlight with some others. As long as I’m in charge of course.” You say.
“Er…well according to this, you’d be the old cranky grandpa wolf that makes a bunch of rude remarks.”
“What?! What kind of stupid shit is that?”
“Yeah that’s the stuff.” Erik replies not catching on.
“I mean what the hell kind of movie is this?”
“Its uh…let’s see…oh here. It’s a horror comedy about a werewolf family and how they
adjust to human society. Looks like you’ll be playing with a lot of young pups as you’d call them.”
“WHAT?! NO! What the fuck Erik? I’m a fucking monster not something to be fucking laughed at! And they already did a movie like that a long time ago and it sucked!”
“Well that’s all I got. Maybe you could talk to the director to make changes since they also wrote it. I’m sure you and her are familiar with each other. You had an affair with her for quite some time.”
“Uh, you wanna narrow that list down Erik?”
“It’s Mary. You know, the one who used to be married to Frankie, until your affair broke up both of your marriages?”

Erik’s new information didn’t exactly make you any more enthusiastic to want to take the job.
> You take the job anyway
“Alright I’ll take the job, just tell me where its at.” You say.

After Erik gives you the information, you ride your Harley to the studio.

When you arrive on the set, you see a bunch of snot nosed wolflings hanging around trying to look “tough”. Some of them are in human form, but you can smell them for who they truly are though. These cubs today, you swear they would’ve never lasted back in the old days. All flash and nothing to back it up. (Though you don’t mind looking at the young females that are there) That’s why they hang out in packs. You never did that even when you were young. You were always a lone wolf.

“Hey who’s the fossil?” one of them asks.
“Hey Grandpa, the remake of Old Yellow is next door!”

This causes a howl of laughter from all of them, until you confront the one who said it. Probably the leader no doubt. Not even in wolf form. Pathetic.

“I’m going to give you time to transform into a more adequate fighting form before I neuter you.” You calmly explain.
“You? You’re like 300 years old! I could take…”

Can’t say you didn’t give him a chance.

You immediately pounce on him, knocking him down while clamping your jaws on his face and digging your fangs in.

“HOLY SHIT DUDE!” one of them shouts.
“Oh my god he’s killing him!” a female screams.
“Get him off of him, get him off of him!”

While them all attempt to pull you off of their leader you hear a familiar voice that gets your attention.

“Well, I see Erik passed my script over to you, good. I’m also glad to see you’re still as anti-social as usual Wolf.” Mary says as you finally get off of your misguided heckler and approach her. She still looks the same, though she looks a lot better now that she got rid of that hair style she used to have and dyed it blonde.
“Just re-establishing the proper hierarchy, nothing more.”
“Hmm, always the Alpha Male, that was what I always loved about you. So primal. Maybe later I can dress in a little red cloak and we can reenact a fairy tale.”
“Some fairy tale, as I remember you loved a lot of beings.”
“Hey I can’t help who I am. I was created this way.”
“Just like Frankie eh?”
“Don’t you compare me to that sicko! Yes we are controlled by our genetics to a certain degree, but as you damn well know I rose above them! I made my own identity. I’m a successful director and writer now, so what if I have a healthy sexual appetite? There’s nothing wrong with that, I’m sure you’d agree given all the beings you had your way with before, after and DURING your marriage!”
“Look never mind all that. I got a real problem with this film.” You say side stepping her correct accusation.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s wrong with it? Are you kidding me? It sucks! It makes a mockery of werewolves! You even named one of them fucking Benji!”
“Well comedy is popular now. Plus children like monsters just as long as they aren’t too scary, so I was hoping to make it a family film.”
“ARRGH! I don’t DO family films! This is insulting and demeaning!”
“How? Come on Wolf. In most horror movies you’ve made you always got killed in the end by a human, how was that any less demeaning?”
“Because at least I was portrayed as feared monster that killed a bunch of people! I can play ball with the humans and their idealistic notion of good always having to overcome evil and all that…but THIS! This makes me into a fucking joke! I can’t even believe you of all people wrote this…no wait I can. You fucking undead don’t have any consideration for anyone, but yourselves.”
“You know I’m technically not even undead, I’m created from several dead bodies. I’m more of a golem.” Mary attempts to correct you.
“Who gives a shit, you’re still basically a walking corpse, and your flesh is dead. You’re Undead in my book.”
“You know for someone who hasn’t been able to find a job in months and is basically just rotting away in his little cabin, you’d think that you’d be a little more appreciative. I wrote this with you in mind you hairy bigoted asshole!”

You don’t know whether to take that as an insult or as an attempt for her to try to make amends for the past.
> You take it as an insult
“So you had me in mind eh? Well that proves it. You think I’m a joke because that’s how you wrote the character.”
“What? No! I just…”
“I see your time with that bloodsucker was well spent. Learning how to exploit and leech right? Look maybe you can pull this shit with those puppies over there, but I ain’t fucking one! I don’t need the money that badly. I’ll go fucking live my twilight years in the forest and DIE there as nature probably intended. I don’t need this shit.”

As you turn to leave, Mary shouts at you.

“Yeah, that’s right go on leave Mr. Lone Wolf! You’ll fucking die alone, you stubborn bastard! I tried to help you! Erik tried to help you and you don’t appreciate any of it! That’s why none of your children speak to you and…”

You run back over to her and slam her into the wall. You stare at her face to face as she struggles to get free. She’s strong, but you manage to keep her pinned. She really pissed you off and you were already pissed off to begin with.

“Fuck you, and fuck Erik! You two don’t know shit about me, never did. I’m through with the pair of you! In fact I think I’ll be taking something with me since you’re so worried about me being alone…”

You release Mary and go over to the wolflings who look a little worried that you’re going to cause harm to them. Many of them cast their eyes downward.

“Hey, you want to be REALLY tough? You want to really raise some hell? Come with me. If you want to stay under the thumb of this patchwork dead bitch and be exploited and mocked, stay here.

Your statement alone convinces all of them. They all follow you, even the one you made an example of. Mary attempts to call everyone back, but it’s useless, you’ve taken control of the pack and they’ll do what you want now.

And right now you want to get into a fight. You think about all the people and creatures that wronged you in some way and only two of them keep coming to mind consistently.

One is that fucking Dr. Victor Frankenstein. If it wasn’t for him, Frankie and Mary wouldn’t have been created in the first place which also means you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into trouble all those years ago. You wouldn’t have had to put up with his “children” taking jobs away from you. Not to mention he sued you once.

But the one who you REALLY despise, is that bisexual bloodsucker. Fucking Dracula or Vlad, or whatever the hell he’s calling himself these days. The disgust you have for him and the reasons are too numerous to list here.
> You go kick Victor's ass
Your recent dealings with Mary, have made you think about all the shit you’ve had to put up with from that no talent dickhead. No human has ever given you such trouble. You know he’s still alive. (Mad scientists always find ways of prolonging their lives somehow) That won’t be true for long though, if you get your way. You killed him once before. This time you’re going to make sure he stays that way.

He’s probably got whatever crappy inventions and experiments protecting his castle and from what you know, Frankie’s still living with his “Dad” as well.

You don’t give a fuck, you’ll kill him too. You figure you’ll be doing the world a favor as well as getting some satisfaction. Besides, you’ve got to show these wolflings what being a werewolf is all about.

“All right you cubs! We’re going to go raise some fucking hell. We’re going to Frankenstein’s Castle. We’re going to rip the place apart brick by brick, and I’M going to rip Victor apart limb from limb.”
“Erm…Castle Frankenstien? Isn’t that where Frankie lives?” one of the wolflings asks.
“I heard he’s really powerful, didn’t he fight Dracula and win?”
‘I dunno if we should mess with him.”

You can’t believe your ears! These snot nosed pups know nothing of their heritage! Back in the old days they would’ve been killed and eaten for such cowardice!

“Goddammit are you Wolves or fucking Chihuahuas? Frankie’s a fucking pussy! I personally kicked his ass before and I’ll do it again all by myself if I have too! Now are you going to run with me and be a fucking Wolf or are you going to go back home with your tails tucked between your legs?”

After looking at each other for awhile they all agree to go with you.

“Good! Now I want all of you to transform into your wolf form too! I’m traveling with fellow wolves not humans!”

Just before one of the females begins to transform, you stop her. She’s dressed in a short leather skirt and a tight white t-shirt that’s tied in the center and has long flowing brown hair. You can smell that she’s in heat. You hate to coin a pun, but she literally is one hot l’il bitch.

“Erm, not you. You stay in your human form; I kind of like the whole teenage slut look you got going on. In fact you come here right now; you’ll be traveling on my bike with me.” You say.

As she slides in behind you and holds on, you ask her one more question.

“So what’s your name?”
“Ginger. What’s your name, you never did tell us.”
“Wolf. Just Wolf baby. Remember it. You’ll be screaming it later.”

Damn you’re so fucking cool, you think as you start up your Harley and ride ahead of the pack.

(You’d probably be even cooler if these pups weren’t all riding those Japanese “crotch rocket” bikes, but that’ll have to be another lesson for another day)

After a couple of days of riding, and a few “pit stops” with Ginger, you all eventually reach Castle Frankenstein. You park your bikes at the gate, and size the place up, which now looks a lot different. It looks like a damn Nazi fortress now, there’s guard towers and everything. It seems Victor has been keeping himself very busy in recent years.

As it begins to rain, a familiar voice calls to you from one of the towers.

“Its you. Vic always knew you’d return one day. I never believed him though. I guess I owe him fifty bucks.”

You look up and see Igor, he looks different too. He has a lot of clumsy cybernetic implants, one of them being some sort of gun in place of an arm. More of Vic’s “handy work” no doubt. He’s still got that damn hump on his back though.

“Igor? You still alive? I thought your ungrateful master would’ve just let you die of old age and get himself another assistant. I see he did a real good job of improving you though. Tell me, how’s it feel to be the real brains, never getting the credit and continuing to be a doormat?”
“I’m happy with my lot in life. How’s it feel to be broke ass overgrown dog who’s trying to relive his lost youth?” Igor retorts back.
“Don’t know yet. I’ll tell you before I shove that metal arm up your ass.”

Well looks like the fight’s starting here.
> You attempt to climb over the gate before Igor can get off a shot
In your prime you would’ve been able to scale the gate, climb the tower and rip Igor’s head off all without getting hit.

Unfortunately you aren’t in your prime anymore. Igor’s having trouble aiming his awkward arm-gun, but with as many bullets as it pumps out he doesn’t need to be completely accurate. While you’re attempting to climb over the gate he hits you several times.

Naturally those bullets are silver.

You crash to the wet ground with a loud CLANK! sound, as the rest of the pack go running away with their tails between their legs.