Chapter Text
Humans and Hybrids live together in a so-called peaceful world. Out of the billions of lives inhabiting planet Earth, Humans are known to be weak yet strongest in terms of authorization powers. It was no secret that they had every power to rule the world and turning it into however they like.
These bastards, unfortunately, hate sharing. Their ego runs deep and high in their veins. Which is why the once so safe Earth became a mess of inhabitants up against each other. The opposite to the purpose of why planet Earth was created in the first place.
"These fucking bastards take so much space up at The Surface," a Hybrid claimed, fuming on top of his head. "Now look at us here. Dying! Only super rich of us gets to live on The Surface."
Hybrids aren't the most welcomed between humans. Despite always at their aid whenever those humans needed, these creatures never get exactly the treatment they deserved. Not even a comfortable space of a proper home.
Those who ran away from their torturous inhuman lives continue to live in The Underground. A simple yet important name, a place that symbolizes independence for all creatures. Due to the absence of important statuses or governmental rules, every civilian supports one another.
"You folks certainly are interesting beings. No wonder humans are envious of your abilities."
"Mr. Specs?"
The conversation between the two men were interrupted by another one of the Hybrid's kind. He hesitantly reached towards the intimidating taller figure and handing him a piece of paper.
"M-Mr. Specs, there is someone at The Surface I would like you to… take care of."
"Consider it done," the man they call Mr. Specs nudged up the glasses rim sitting on top of his nose and grabbed the paper from his client.
The mysterious man is Mr. Specs. Some call him the hero of The Underground, some admire him from afar to stay clear of his shady business. Mr. Specs is one of the very few respected Humans who live in The Underground.
Hybrids who do business with him would always involve a Human from The Surface. They are handled in a way he refuses to speak of, yet oddly enough his methods would always keep those oppressing Humans away from the victims. All they have to do is to bring Mr. Specs a sheet of paper with a name and face on it.
By the time Mr. Specs enters The Surface, said business would be done by sunrise. How exactly is a question no need for an answer.
"Oh, Sir," Mr. Specs stopped the other from walking away, "payment is expected upfront."
He led the Hybrid behind, and all that happens beyond the curtains were a mere secret between the two men.
"Pleased to have you back, Hunter 99."
"The pleasure is all mine."
Hunter 99. A well-known VIP of the Vampire Pursuit Unit.
"Any new bounties, ICA?" Hunter 99 tapped his visit card onto a nearby scanning gate. ICA; short for Intelligent Computer Assistant. One of the Hunter’s requests granted by the manager in exchange for a bounty some time ago. A virtual assistant to aid him in his missions.
"No data, Sir. For now, you are set on break."
"Affirmative."
Hunter 99 is one of VPU's well-known VIPs. VIPs keep the VPU alive, willing to dedicate themselves to hunt down Vampires who are said to disrupt peace. Said disturbance were cleared by catching the Vampire, bringing them down to VPU's private laboratory. Hunt isn’t to kill, but to collect their fangs. Once they collected tubes of their blood and their pair of fangs, the Vampires would be set free again.
Fangs function as a Vampire’s pride. They could grow back, but weaker than before. The more they were taken away from them, the weaker and less Vampire they become, before soon turning them back into regular Humans. VPU emphasized this as an act of social sanction.
On moments where negotiation are impossible, these unfortunate Vampires are forced to end their own lives. Hunter 99 is one of the very few Hunters who—if not interrupted—would not hesitate on one bit to decapitate a Vampire on the spot. He is one ambitious yet ever so cruel Vampire Hunter.
Most importantly, Hunter 99 absolutely hates Vampires.
"Hunter 99!"
VPU's Hunter Manager enters the room, bursting in all of a sudden with no prior warning. The Hunter gave his virtual assistant a side eye for not warning him of another company.
"We truly appreciate your effort on the last hunt. Has the payment been recieved?"
"Don't mention it," Hunter 99 scoffed, sipping a cup of coffee he just brewed. "Looks like you have something new for me."
"Spot on," the manager bowed slightly, fixing himself to look presentable to his most special business partner. The Hunters have always been a classified project and only few have control over authorities.
“Good. Any details?”
“Well,” the manager sat on a nearby sofa, his guards loom behind him. “That’s the reason why I’m here.”
“Another thing being that recruit offer from last week.”
Hunter 99 scoffed. “I don’t work for anyone.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re no one special. I really don’t work for anyone,” he responded lazily.
“You should reconsider the offer, Hunter,” the manager continued. “We don’t usually give out recruitment chances so easily. You know how strict our qualifications are.”
The Hunter threw his head away and went back to sipping his coffee with no bother in the world. Sure the offer interests him on first thought, but the manager’s been begging him on every bounty he accepts. Every chance he gets to see the manager, he’ll be greeted with another offer to join the VPU on a formal recommendation by the chief executive. And Hunter 99 would reject every chance he gets.
“You're too presistent,” Hunter 99 smirked, mocking the manager. “And I don’t usually reject opportunities I get. Yours just suck.”
The guards were reaching for the guns in their pockets, halted by the manager who sat up and brought his hands together. He commanded the two to bow with him as Hunter 99 looks down on them.
“Alright,” and on most days, the manager would gave up and accept defeat that he still couldn’t shake the lone Hunter’s heart. “This time, you win again. The bounty’s still all yours.”
"And as always, don't let chief know."
He walked out the room after handing over documents of information and yet another one of his business cards. At this point, the Hunter could make a card binder filled the manager’s different business card styles. If he hadn’t throw them away first thing after their meetings. Hunter 99 returned to his bounty offer, sat on a nearby sofa and went through the documents given to him.
Pureblood Vampires. The first section interests him enough to read through the entire document without batting away.
Pureblood Vampires run The Underground markets, where Humans of The Surface would always call said markets as the Blood Market. A lot of Vampires donate their blood to the Blood Market. Some Vampire blood types grants medical effects, most common to treat blood-related sickness. Others are made of glucose, used to create energy shots, which are still considered illegal practice.
Pureblood Vampire blood acts as a pledge, only Pureblood Vampires are able to turn other Humans into Vampires by mixing their bloods together. Recently, a Pureblood Vampire has been seen selling fake medical blood; blood that are supposed to be donated to heal people are being sold by the Vampire fraud to turn sick Humans into Vampires. The medicine were also sold at unreasonable pricings, cheap enough to be distributed in mass batches.
The Hunter understood his assignment. He has been dying to get his hands dirty by Pureblood Vampire blood. All that's left was to execute as soon as the target decided to show himself on The Surface. For now, he'll just enjoy his coffee and lounge priveledges.
It's half past midnight. There was only a single dimly lit up room in a tiny studio apartment. As the surroundings sleep, this one single room was playing classical ballads suppressed by his soundprove walls.
The center of the performance was a man in a trenchcoat acting out the song's violin parts, witnessed by another man in the middle of the room tied onto a glass chair. His eyes scurrying in fear while the other has clouds over his glasses. The tall man reached for a scalpel knife next to a table and continue to hover the tool over his arms like he's strumming an instrument.
He continue to hum and dance along the song, missing a few beats while his footsteps circle the chair in the middle of the room. The tied-up man cried pleadingly, tears and sweat dropping from his entire face and flooding his neck.
"Oh! I almost forgot about you!" The man made eye contact with his hostage. The poor tied up man lets out a gasp suppressed by his gagged mouth. He continue to shake his body, breath shaking and heavy in fear.
“Yhhh wwrrrh sspphh thh jhhhs fhhhrhhh… (You were supposed to just forget…)” muffled the man.
"Don't worry. We won't be here for long anymore," He slides the trenchcoat off his body. As it flops on the floor, he covered his own shirt with a latex suit.
"Wh-whh rrhhh yhhhh dddhhhhinghh?! (Wh-what are you doing?!)" the man's voice was held back, turned into pleading cries as he hears a click of handcuffs and feeling the silver metal's surface against his own skin.
"Shhh, you're interrupting the music… We're about to make it to the best part."
The neat-looking man sliced a cut against his palm. Blood was expected to be dripping out, but instead smoke emitted out of his skin. He brings it forward against his hostage, smearing his face with as much of his hands as possible. The hostage rebelled, but the man was too strong, he was held down onto the glass chair.
From there, it was dizzying. He was seeing double shadows. His mind was calm yet terrified. The man giggled and presses across his hostage's cheeks with the scalpel knife's blunt end. It glides until it reaches his chin, and the man's face beamed.
Surrendering under his control, he let out one final cry. In the corner of his watery eyes, he could spot a pair of sharp fangs before Mr. Specs brought his own mask up. The strange gas and wandering calm music drifts him over to the dream world.
"Sleep tight."
Dear diary, another target has been successfully eliminated.