Thread: No love for the enemy. (DTH+Kittenloves)

Warm blood splattered across Drake's face, some of it clinging to his dark brown hair. The man under him gasped for air that he wouldn't get, as his lungs were laying on a heap beside him. The knife in Drake's strong hands cut the man's heart free from his chest. Drake's dark blue eyes glared at the still beating heart, the vampiric unlife it held keeping it in motion. He climbed off of his weakened foe, dropping the bloody mass in his hand down on the ground with a sickening plop. He pulled out another knife, this one adorned with ivory on the handle, the handle being in the shape of a cross. Drake poured holy water along both edges of the knife before he dropped to his knees in front of the bleeding, beating red mass of muscle he tore from the vile creature's chest. With two swift motions, he cleaved the heart into four pieces, then drenched it with holy water. The gasping beast finally ceased his gasping and twitching. Drake slowly came back to his feet, his long black trench coat flowing to the ground. He was drenched in crimson blood which was slowly turning black as the vampiric energy was fading from it. He kicked the heart's pieces far away from each other so they wouldn't reform. These fuckers were hard to kill for good. He reached into his trench coat and pulled a bottle of vodka from it. After taking a swig from it he poured the rest on the body and lit a match, then dropped it on the corps. May your soul have some peace he said as he turned to walk away from the lifeless body. He walked in the darkness, as the last thing he wanted at this point was for some regular bastard to see him covered in blood and alert the authorities. A lot of people didn't really know vampires existed. That was exactly how the hunters wanted it. If everyone knew about them everyone would want to hunt them or be them. The vampires would probably be only too happy to oblige the ones that wanted to be them, and just turn the ones who hunted them. There were few enough hunters around already, and if there were a mass transformation they could kiss any chances they had of victory goodbye. So if a normal person were to see Drake in this state, the only thing that could happen is calling the attention of the authorities upon him. That would definitely not be a good thing for him or any of the hunters. They hadn't lost a hunter in five years, but every loss was a tragedy. He was a member of one section of hunters that held 20 members. Twenty people in a territory with over 300 vampires. Every Member counted. According to the historians in the hunters, their numbers had never been much larger than that. But the vampires had. So hopefully, this meant they were doing things right over the years. He had heard talk that a hundred years ago, there were a thousand vampires in this one region. He was damn glad he was only 25 years old, and hadn't been around for that shit. The job was tough as it is, but with that many vampires running around it would have been a total nightmare. He finally reached the lake near his home, the one he used to clean himself after hunts. He stripped off his trenchcoat and waded into the lake, a cloud of pink dispersing as he entered it. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as the cool water embraced his flesh.