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.