Goddamn, mother<i>fucker</i>, Ryah barely resisted the urge to swear outloud. His silver blade, as beloved as it was, wasn't going to cut it against the undead vermin. There were too many of them and he would tire out before killing them all. There had to be at least a dozen, by his count. No, if he was going to be fighting them all, it'd have to be quick and dirty. Reaching behind him, Ryah pulled out his Glock, and cocked it. The 22 had a standard magazine capacity of 15 rounds. It was made of polymer, with a short recoil and it was a smooth, reliable operator.<br/><br/>"I don't wanna have to kill you all but if you guys insist," he said, as calmly as possible, belying the fast beating of his heart in his chest. Did vampires have super hearing? He hoped not. Ryah had a feeling this wasn't going to end well, no matter how many of them he killed. "Like ol' Drake, was it? Like Drake said, it was self-defense. I met this chick, paid a lot of money for her information, and then she tried to eat me after. Come on, guys. I really don't want to have to do this because silver bullets cost a damn lot of money."<br/><br/>The problem with vampires, one of the many problems with them, was that they were stubborn, narcissistic, evil and prejudiced. Never mind that they had been human at one point or another. so it wasn't like Ryah could exactly appeal to their former human feelings.