Shinigami: Vampire Hunter is a fic set in the Anita Blake-type universe, with our pilots based loosely on characters from that. Extremely loosely. I've borrowed the creative talents of Laurell K Hamilton (who, by the way, you should check out if you haven't already) and twisted them to come up with… well, whatever this steaming pile of crap is.
Here comes the typical disclaimer which I'm sure you're sick of seeing by now. I do not own:
Gundam Wing
The G-pilots
The concept of vampires
Coffee
Leather
Anita Blake
The term 'ass-deep in alligators'
A brain
There you have it. Now, on with the fic!
"Duo, get your pansy ass in here right now! Maxwell!"
That'd be me, Duo Maxwell, the dashing protagonist. Famous across the lands if not only for my undeniable wit and charm but also for the fact that I'm a heap big vampire slayer. The monsters call me the Executioner but I prefer Shinigami. It's just got a bit more flair, y'know?
"Maxwell, we don't have all the time in the world here. Move it!"
I do the usual tasks assigned to a licensed vamp hunter: hunting the big nasties down, executing the ones not sticking to the vampire rules and basically enforcing the law. You know, kicking ass and all that. Of course, ever the giver, I go above and beyond the normal call of duty with my special talent: necromancy. Some call it a gift but I'd consider it more a curse. I mean, who likes waking up at 3am to find their dog in the bed with them, especially when that dog has actually been dead for 2 days?
"I'm coming already," I answered finally, entering the living room to see my partner in crime sat in a chair with a sour look on his face. Chang Wufei, also known in some circles as Justice. Up his own ass but not a bad guy. Mostly. "Not had your coffee yet, Wu?"
"Can we get serious here?" he demanded after glaring at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have a job to do."
Settling down on the large leather couch, I shrugged. "All right! What's up, oh wise one?"
"I'm sure even you, Maxwell, have noticed the rise in the amount of vamp-related killings lately," he paused for dramatic effect, fixing me with a pointed look. "My source tells me that a lot of the big names in this town are attending a party tonight. A freak party."
"Yeah… So?"
"We need to go, Duo." Wufei said shortly, not looking especially happy about that fact.
I blanched. "So what, we're just gonna march in and willingly give ourselves up to the junkies and the fangs? Sounds like a great plan!" I muttered, taking a sip of coffee and then grimacing. Decaf! Trust that asshole to mess even a simple cup of java up.
"If we get in there, we can get some solid information about what the hell is going on. Look, Duo, if we don't do this then who knows how many more people will die! We have to put a stop to it now."
Oh, crafty. Using the whole guilt trip thing. It's not like I wouldn't normally jump at the chance to kick some undead butt but, well, freak parties… let's just say they aren't ideal. You've got your basic junkies, the freaks who get off on being bitten, and then you have the vamps. The powerful ones normally avoid the parties but if they'll be out in force tonight… well, who am I to pass up an opportunity to do what I do best?
"Fine, fine, I'll do it."
"There's one thing, though…" There's always a catch! Well, if going to a freak party isn't catch enough.
"And that is?" I demanded, putting the now cold coffee down and staring intently at Wufei.
A sigh escaped his lips before he could put a cap on whatever he was feeling. "We need to blend in," he said awkwardly, pursing his lips slightly.
"So what you're avoiding saying, basically, is that we need to dress like fucking junkies?" I said bluntly. Well ain't that just the icing on the cake?
"Basically… yeah."
"So that would be your general leather, fishnet, really just anything kinky and/or uncomfortable?"
"Yep."
Fucking great. The obvious problem with that kind of outfit (if you can even call it that) is that guns tend to be pretty visible and there's no chance I'll get in with a cross. Unsurprisingly, walking into enemy territory with no weapons is not high on my list of fun things to do. Damnit! Looks like I'll be depending on my ass-kicking skills alone… which is never a good thing seeing as I'm short and built like a girl, or so Wufei enjoys telling me.
"At least it'll be more interesting than your normal nightly activity of jacking off then falling asleep in front of the TV." The black-haired asshole added, ducking as I threw my coffee at him.
---
Let me tell you, nine o'clock came all too quickly for my liking, and it found me wearing leather pants that brought an entirely new meaning to the word 'tight'. I teamed this with a black shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone to expose my neck, and then finished the look off with some combat boots. So I didn't quite suit the brief but hey, improvisation's the key.
"Are you ready yet?" Wufei asked as he walked into my room, looking like he'd just sucked a lemon or smelled something nasty. He was dressed to kill, no pun intended, in tight black jeans, a close-fitting black turtleneck and a leather jacket. I guess black is the new black this year.
I rolled my eyes in response, nervously fiddling with my braid as we made our way out of the apartment and down to where my motorbike was stored. Aah my baby, my love, my goddess! The only way to travel. I got on and waited for Wufei to stop bitching about the lack of helmet, shaking my head. Tough-as-nails vampire slayer my ass.
---
"I can tell I'm not going to like this," I murmured to Wufei as we walked through the entrance, blasted immediately by the ridiculously loud music. Surely my eardrums couldn't take this for very long? The lights in the place were dim and heat pushed in from all sides due to the seething mob of people packed into such a small area, invading my personal space and irritating me immediately. Did I ever mention I don't like parties?
Making our way over to the bar, we sat down and turned to survey the party. Lots of people, most of them just regular humans with a penchant for being bitten. A couple of vamps dotted around, mostly recognisable by their outdated clothing. My attention was drawn to a couch directly across from me, on which two guys were sat. They didn't look much older than my 21 years but I knew they had a few more centuries under their belts. The first guy had intensely green eyes and brown hair that was very heavy in the front, obscuring half his face nearly. It took me two glances to work out that the small blonde at his feet, head resting on the green-eyed guy's knees, was in fact a guy not a girl as he'd first appeared. Fucking junkies.
The other occupant of the couch had messy brown hair that kept falling into cold blue eyes, which were currently staring right at me. Those eyes were whispering things of dark rooms and sweat and—I jerked my head away, eyes considerably wider than moments ago, and swallowed the golfball that had appeared in my throat. Wufei gave me a look with his slanted onyx eyes then returned to scoping the room.
"When do we start with the info gathering?" I asked, feeling a bit subdued as I turned to my partner. This whole place was just giving me the creeps and I wanted out as soon as possible.
"Right now." Wufei rose from the seat, looking resigned to the task ahead. "If we get in trouble here, there's no way out. We're surrounded by these things. Just try to blend, okay? Or it's ass-deep in alligators for us." With that ominous statement, he moved off and disappeared into the mass of people on the dancefloor.
"Oh gee, thanks. Leave me alone at the bar why don't you! Fucking hell," I mumbled under my breath. As an afterthought, that's the perfect way to make people leave you alone. Just talk to yourself and people tend to avoid you.
"Hello." Well, in theory.
"Unh?" I garbled, Mr. Smooth as ever. Looking slowly up, the first thing I saw was blue eyes. Crap. He cleared his throat, alerting me to the fact that I was staring shamelessly. Damnit!
"Uh, hi." I coughed, throat going dry and making it hard to get anything sensical out. As if knowing the discomfort he caused, a smile spread over his chiselled features and that pale face seemed to come to life. And hell, he probably did know exactly what effect he had on people. Heat crept up my neck and I mentally kicked myself for acting like a fucking retard. Despite my social ineptitude, he held out his hand in a silent invitation to dance.
Well, surely that wouldn't hurt. Y'know, purely to gather information. Right?