Mortsunder, otherwise known as the city of the dead, has been protected and inhabited by demons, humans, and those of us who are in between for centuries. The city is best recognized as the gateway between the living and the undead.

On a quiet night along the borders of the city, an overly-clothed figure is en route to battle a kidnapper. You might ask what is wrong with the world when a seemingly perfect stranger has to fight a kidnapper. Well, this stranger is no ordinary person quite frankly, and the kidnapper is hardly considered a human anymore. Glowing, yellow eyes light the way through the dark forest lining the edge of the city borders. Footsteps crunch down on grass, dead beetles, and rough terrain as they sound in the relatively sound atmosphere.

Along the horizon emerged a roughly normal cottage-style house where the kidnapper was said to be keeping children. The glowing eyes sensed innocent souls crying and moaning as the soft wind blew through a figure's loose brown cloak and purple scarf. The actual person could not be seen as the shadows covered him. The spirits of young girls danced about the cottage, trying to find their friends and figure out where they were. Of course, no one could hear the words of ghost children unless they were amongst the dead. These girls who were confused and going about their way were unaware that they were well on their way to crossing over into the next life. The glowing yellow eyes in the distance merely watched the ghost children, no longer walking toward the cottage. They were now waiting for something to disturb the spirits. They could feel an evil presence surrounding the children and the cottage.

Within moments, a screech and a laugh sounded, gaining the attention of the ghosts and the glowing eyes. The souls of the children turned to mist then gathered in front of the cottage to form a curvatious woman with ethereal white hair and soft blue eyes that glowed with power. She wore a rather lovely purple dress that rouched along the waist line and had sharp fangs between two rouged lips. She pushed her breasts up a bit to adjust their perkiness into the bust of her dress before combing her hand through her hair, taking care to look at her three-inch nails that were sharpened to purple talons. Her jewelry glowed with power and had the insignia of Medusa's head.

"I can sense your power, girl. Reveal yourself to me!" the woman hissed, smiling confidently. No woman could be more beautiful than she was now!

The glowing eyes hiding in the forest in front of the cottage inched their way closer to the arrogant lady. The woman turned her head sharply, chuckling at the cloaked creature coming towards her. As the figure came into the moon's calming rays, it opened its cloak and yanked off its hood to reveal a beautiful, young woman. The witch gasped then hissed and grew angry at the woman before her. She stood a nice five-foot-seven or -eight in her heeled tall boots. Her hair reached the middle of her shoulder blades and was braided in two cornrows with the bangs sweeping against her hardened face. She had two silver hoops hanging from her ears, long black eyelashes, full lips, and reddish-brown skin. In short, she was a beautiful black girl dressed in modern-Victorian clothes: gray corset, white blouse with ruffled sleeves and collar, silver cross, white pearl-like hunting gear, black boots and trousers reminiscent of the Victorian times, and several other accessories. Her eyes were particularly yellow, however, but they glowed so beautifully that they had the appearance of a soft flame on a romantic vintage lamp.

The woman growled as she watched the girl pull out two long-barreled handguns then bellowed out a roar to summon several bat-like creatures. Lightning struck the cottage's rooftop and from it was the birth of thousands of young bat demons. The girl looked up at the bats, opened the hook in the back of one of the pistols, attached the other pistol to the open hook, and pulled out a crossbow attachment from behind her cloak. Swiftly, she hooked on a gatling arrow blaster to the two hooked pistols and formed an entirely different weapon at her disposal! The woman directed the bat creatures to the girl with a sharp command, anticipating her death or capture. If she could get this woman's soul, imagine the possibilities of being beautiful for a lifetime! She could be beautiful to any creature she saw like the all-powerful gorgon, Medusa, herself!

"Get the girl!"

We, of the Cite Legion, protect Mortsunder's suddle and enchanting dominion by training soldiers to hunt, capture, or exterminate any demon, witch, ghoul, or undead body that intentionally disrupts the city's peace. Because of the undead and the living inhabiting this city together, Mortsunder's people live in constant conflict, and it is up to the Cite Legion to bring peace to her people. Our legion consists of elite hunters chosen by the cross and teachings of the legendary Abraham van Helsing, or my ancestor who was graced as the first well-known hunter of the undead. I am Einrie Gomez van Helsing, prominent student of my father's almanac of the demon world, mentor to three generations of hunters, and one of six elders within the legion. Unfortunately, this is not a documentary or heroic tale about me. This story is about my student...

Narrowing her vision, the hunter with the gatling firearm positioned her gun to a common point of attack that would be made by the bats. She formulated several vectors along a field that could destroy a multitude of bats in only a few shots of her silver arrows. Taking aim then a calm breath, she fired the gatling crossbow and hit several bats at a time. Screeching then explosions rang through the air as the green disenchanted insides of the bat creatures splashed on the earth below them. The witch yelled out from her disapproval and possible defeat, but she thought of a different strategy to beat this girl out.

Roaring out to her remaining bats, she gathered them around her body to change her being. The girl watched as hundreds of bats turned into the largest set of wings possibly produced by the white-haired woman's spell then hissed a bit. She ran at the witch, throwing her gatling crossbow over her shoulder, and summoned dark powers of her own. The witch felt a strong surge of power emanating from her and gasped at this. She prepared to use a teleportation spell, and, in the middle of completing it, the girl took an astounding leap and managed to grab at her Medusa medallion. However, grabbing onto the medallion did nothing to stop the witch from completing her spell. Together, the feuding women disappeared in a flash of white light bordered by shadow.

It was a relatively quiet night in the suburbs of Mortsunder. A mother and her daughter were calmly sewing buttons together for a shawl to cover a red evening gown with crystals along the bust. It was a lovely corset top and flowing skirt cascading down the bottom in a splash of crimson. Abruptly, a screech was heard and the lights suddenly went out. The mother and daughter scrambled to retrieve weapons of any kind to protect themselves from the demons that terrorized the human civilians and revealed a silver knife and white salt respectively. The daughter, not quite understanding how her mother found any use in the salt, just sighed at her findings and shook her head. Somehow, they were related. Moments later, two bodies swooped down and crashed through the roof with a deafening impact! Parts of the roof collapsed on the mother, and, even worse to the daughter, destroyed the red dress.

"Nnnooooo!" the daughter screamed.

Neither the witch nor the girl knew how long they were going to fall or how many floors were left before they hit the ground, but the two did understand that the building and everyone in it were in danger. Unbeknownst to the witch, the girl was angered by her evacuation signals being ignored once again. With a vice grip, she snatched the medallion off the woman's neck and began to crush it with inhumane strength mustered into her bare hand. She reeled her fist back then punched the woman across her jaw, feeling it crack under her finger bones. The woman swiped her talon across the girl's face in anger then fired a blast from her hand, causing the girl to fall through the building faster and harsher. The witch licked the blood from her nails, shivering from the sweet taste and chuckling as she absorbed a snipet of the girl's life force.

"Damn it to hell!" the girl hissed before feeling her back crash through another apartment floor. She fired at the woman, noticing her hair changing from the lustrious silver it was to a softer brown color. The woman's large bat wings opened, stopping the witch from falling and kept her afloat. She yelled out, "Stubborn witch!"

The witch laughed at the girl's frustration, not noticing the arrows coming towards her, then said, "Your life force will give me youth and beauty beyond anyone's dreams. I will be more loved than the city itself. I will bathe in riches only queens have seen goddesses partake in. Men will flock around me, offering gifts abundantly. Women like you will have nothing left to hope for except to be like me. What do you think of that, Agent Chandella?"

Chandella is Faveau's agent name, given to her by the second elder of the legion. Faveau was chosen by the legion to train as a hunter for her keen senses and swift reflexes. She didn't have any form of super power like her mother at the time, and she hardly knew anything about weapons or demons like her father. She was the most normal child to enter our headquarters. But the elders saw something in her. Her abilities were recognized by the elders, and the second elder wanted her to be part of the legion. Chandella became her agent name at the tender age of thirteen. The second elder claimed it was because her eyes glowed like the flames of the crystal chandelier above our table when a demon approached: bright, romantic, and alert.

The girl, Faveau "Chandella", smirked at the witch's question and revealed the Medusa medallion cracked along the center. The witch gasped, having forgotten about her own prized possession, and Chandella screamed out,"I say you forgot something!"

Shadows covered Chandella's body and stopped her from landing on the ground floor a few inches above the carpet of the final apartment. A middle-aged man eating popcorn jumped from the floating shadow a few inches away from his 52-inch screen TV and cowered behind his Lay-Z-Boy couch in soft whimpers. The shadow's wings formed and behind them was the girl in a different light. Chandella, while floating on her back, flapped her black wings a bit before opening her eyes and grinning like a madman. Her teeth were now fangs and her eyes a vivacious red color. She lifted her hand up as if reaching for the ceiling then opened it to reveal the medallion crushed into a fine powder.

There was also another reason the elders recognized her as one of the best agents for the Cite Legion. Can't believe I forgot this most important one! It's rather obvious due to our origins from the great Abraham van Helsing. Faveau could sense evil several miles away and fight one of the strongest of all demons: the vampire. In fact, the day she fought her first vampire, was the same day she learned that she was no ordinary child anymore. She had a superpower...and that...was the ability to copy the powers of the strongest opponents and master them...

"NO!" the witch shouted.

She began screaming demonically as her power left her body. The souls of the children she ate from were freed and returned to their proper bodies in the cottage where they were imprisoned. Chandella floated to her feet, leaving the frightened man and his apartment as the old witch's body plummeted to the ground to her death...

Recently, however, Faveau has been causing trouble amongst her fellow hunters and the city itself. The reason? I like to think she's just getting used to her job.

"Chandella! Chandella, you murderer!" the man, who cowered behind his sofa, shouted as he ran out of his house. He couldn't stand having a ruined house and dead body in his apartment, especially one of an old woman. He continued, "You kill one of your own? A curse upon your house, Chandella!"

My troublesome student, Faveau "Chandella" Cazadora, has gained a rather infamous reputation as a hunter of the underworld. She can perform feats better than anyone else and speak several languages like ancient werewolf and Salem witch. Her father, Fuerte Cazadora, is a blue blood hunter; meaning, his family shares a long history of hunting and expelling demons. She is now in the position to carry on the gift. Even with this on her plate, however, she seems to forget something important: damage to the city is expensive! Yet...nothing is more expensive than her crushed heart when the people she wants nothing more than to protect grow to hate her...

Faveau landed in front of a Catholic church in her vampire form, startling many of the nightly churchgoers. She practically floated above the beautiful cobblestone streets as her heels clicked very lightly against the moist stones. Her wings were still in their full wingspan, matching the gorgoyles looking down on her, but she politely closed them before someone ran into them. Some men were bumping into her on purpose anyway. Two senior citizens crossed their fingers over their chest, whispering "Hail Mary" before catching their breath. They knew only one disgusting little brat would dare walk through the streets of Mortsunder in a cursed form. Faveau watched the women stomp away from her then took a deep breath to calm her adrenaline and silence the vampire power.

A priest came out of the church, slamming the doors open, and turned to see Faveau concentrating on sealing her powers. He rolled his eyes then sighed as he watched her. Shadows engulfed the girl again and revealed the real, natural Faveau Cazadora. Her eyes were no longer red or yellow; in fact, they were a pleasant light brown color. She kneeled before the church on one knee and crossed her fingers over her chest in a silent prayer. The priest walked towards the girl, hiding his hands behind his back, and waited for her to finish asking for forgiveness for the rude entrance.

"The mission is done, father," she said.

"So is our building funds from the government. Come," the priest commanded, leading the girl into the church. Once he entered the building, he stopped by a table where bread and wine were delicately resting on a wooden table. He broke a piece of the stale, cold French bread then brought it to Faveau's lips for her to eat, praying in the process through a mental communication between them. She ate the bread then watched as he handed her the small bit of red wine from the bluntly-stemmed glass. It was actually warm. While she drunk the wine, the priest then said, "Do you realize how much in damage you've caused on your mission?"

"How much worse can it be?" the girl asked, placing the glass back on the table. It was a ritual for every hunter to partake in a communion of serenity and peace after a mission. They were brought to the front room of the church, where the priest and Faveau were located, and only made conversation about the collateral the church were to pay for in turn of the government's grants. She then said, "It was only $254,000 last time, and we paid that off discretely."

"No, I paid that out of my pocket! The church will never be able to build itself up with your insensible thrills of destruction."

"How is protecting our city from a witch-kidnapper a thrill? I was only doing my job!"

"Your pay from this job is going to a different charity if you keep this up," the priest said, leading the girl to a quiet office where they could speak without passersby hearing of their conversation. "Your collateral this time was over 1.65 million dollars! Where exactly are we going to get that kind of money, hm? You even have 12 injuries on your record! How are we supposed to pay collateral and hospital bills?"

"Father, at least think about what was done," Faveau argued, almost desperate for someone to be on her side today. Everyone hated her. She continued, "Twelve injuries and a damaged apartment building outweighs the forty teens and kids this witch drained life from. No one died except the witch and her minions."

"You were asked to bring her back alive," the priest said, staring incredulously at the girl.

"Dead or alive," she clarified.

"You had detainers to drain her power!" he argued.

"But not to release the forty souls!" she spat back.

"Well, what a party!"

The two debaters turned to the door to see a man, drinking wine from the cup Faveau touched earlier. He was a rather tall man with soft green eyes and long gray hair, but he did have a bit of a receding line and some wrinkles along his eye line. His nose was sharp and cheeks full, giving him an educated and young appearance even though he was pushing to be somewhere in his early 50s. He was wearing a green trenchcoat with a wide-brimmed black Stetson cowboy hat and brown slacks. His boots were covered in soot from the swamps and there was blood on his shoe strings. The priest made like a gagging motion before crossing his fingers over his chest to whisper a prayer of patience.

"Van Helsing!" Faveau called, happy to see her mentor.

"Master Einrie, your student is becoming more and more wreckless by the day with these missions! Unless you both want the church to be bankrupt or lose credibility with the government, I suggest you figure out a way to control her tendencies to destroy public property," the priest said, stomping away from both hunters to get away from the smells of death. Even if the creatures they fought were of the undead, that didn't mean they had to drag their deaths in the church!

"That went well," Einrie said, taking off his hat and shrugging. He then asked, "So, did you finish your mission?"

"Yes, sir."

Einrie nodded then walked over to a neighborly chair to sit down. He rubbed his knees after sighing and lifted a leg up to release a proud farting noise. He waved his hand to air out the smell before it reached his nose then said, "Whoo, you have no idea how long I held that in! The people that drive the damn taxis are so uppity this year."

"That is so gross," Faveau remarked, taking a soft Kleenex tissue resting in its box on a thin table and covering her nose. "How were the swamps?"

"Perfectly wretched!" Einrie answered, enthusiastically. He looked around the room to find something of interest then spotted several bottles of liquor with shot glasses. "Oh, brandy! Want some, love?"

"I'll stick to communion wine," Faveau answered.

"Fair enough," Einrie said, hopping over to the liquor counter. "What happened to the witch?"

"Plummeted to her death seven stories down after having her powers stripped in mid-air," Faveau answered, finding a comforting throne-like chair to sit in.

"Any casualties?" Hellsing asked, pouring brandy into his cup then sucking it down in one gulp. He poured more then closed the bottle and reached for the wine bottle Faveau wanted. He noticed it was rather light and shook it a bit to estimate the amount left. He said, "About a third left of the wine. Want the rest?"

"Yes, please," Faveau answered, rubbing her right temple while crossing her legs. In her position, most suitors would call her a queen. The vampire men already recognized her as a fellow countess. She then realized she hadn't answered her mentor's question and said, "No casualties per usual. The police were able to locate the missing people. Only twelve reported injuries were documented on my record."

"You're in a cottage in the middle of nowhere," Einrie declared, scoffing at the injury record. "How the hell can you injure people in the forest?"

"The witch teleported us to an apartment complex that was supposed to be evacuated per my instructions because it was a possibility that she could go there for more souls to drain. More children were in that building."

"How'd the injuries happen?"

"We crashed through the ceiling and fell seven floors down," she answered, sinking into her chair a bit.

Einrie hummed, handing Faveau her bottle of wine before sipping at his own brandy. He then said to Faveau with a bit of guilt, "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to suspend your hunter's permit and halt your apprenticeship rights."

"Will it make Greeny happy?" Faveau asked, drinking straight from the bottle. "You may as well fire me. Then he'd really jump for joy."

"Father Greenbridge may be annoying but he means well. Your actions are concerning in regards to human life. Today, you've hit a remarkable $1.93 million in damage. Yesterday, it was $1.61 - a considerable increase of nearly 34.5%. Over the summer, we set you on a mission to Paris during fashion week and you caused a reported $10.5 million dollars worth in collateral damage. On top of that, there were 37 injuries - 34 of them being models at a rehearsal the night prior. Those medical bills weren't forgiving either. Faveau, I know you're trying your hardest to become protector of our beloved city like your father before you, but you have to realize that you're hurting people in a way beyond something medical. These buildings that you destroy support hundreds of peoples' jobs or homes. Paychecks are cut just to cover up your damage. A broken window or some crap tile is nothing, but an entire company is something we can't cover as it is."

Realizing there was no real hope of having support for her deeds, Faveau took a long gulp of her wine then swallowed it whole, feeling that tiny burn tickle her throat and chest. Maybe this was the Divine Keeper's way of saying she was not meant for this job like she dreamed - like she thought. She sighed then said, "Guess I was bound for this sort of road sooner or later. Who the hell was I kidding? I'm meant to destroy life...not save it."

"Now, don't say that. You do save lives physically."

"No, I don't. They're on borderline towards death with the injuries half the damn time!" Faveau said, taking one last swig of her wine, emptying the bottle. She continued, turning to Einrie, "I'll just go back to school and go on low key." She tossed something to her mentor, earning a light gasp, then remarked, "That's the Eye of Medusa. She used it to control the girls she drained. Rest in peace, teacher."

"I would hate to be that guy... Pass the popcorn."

William Stronghold was busy on his double date with Layla Williams, his first girlfriend, Warren Peace, his best friend, and Warren's date for the evening, Cris Haxel, or Freeze Girl as everyone liked to call her. They were all seated in Freeze Girl's car, watching a movie outdoors; of course, Warren got shotgun since it was his girlfriend's car, but he also had the responsibility of keeping everyone's stupid popcorn warm. Hence why he rolled his eyes and mumbled something incoherent when he passed Will his popcorn.

"Butter's hot," Warren warned, only to hear Will's silent yelp in pain. He smirked a bit before saying, "Screwball..."

"Nice timing," Layla sarcastically complimented.

"Thanks, hippie," he replied.

"Come on, Warren," Cris softly whispered, touching Warren's knee. She smiled a little then said, "It's not nice to tease the kids."

Under normal circumstances, Warren would uncharacteristically jump in for a kiss, but like Cris said the kids weren't ready for that sort of behavior yet. Of course, seeing Will and Layla blush from a little PDA would boost his ego plenty, but Cris may not like that sort of behavior in front of them either. Pity, really. Instead of going for the goal, Warren simply turned to Cris with a mischievous smirk then went back to the movie. He wasn't sure if Cris caught on to his desires at first, but that frosty squeeze and soft caress of the muscle above his knee was definitely a sign that she got the message. If they could talk telepathically, they would definitely be mentally making out. Feeling his mouth water a bit from the thought, Warren decided to simply place a heated hand over Cris' then reach for his soda. Thankfully, they were able to bring specially-made, power resistant items to hold their snacks and what-not in. It was a good thing Will's mom thought about visiting the Mayor of Maxville over the summer. Had it not been for the meeting they wouldn't have ever known about a shop in Maxville that sells merchandise to heroes. Unfortunately, the owners stopped selling items personally for sixteen years, but they still delivered to the front door.

"Yeah, what Cris said!" Will bantered.

"Want me to blow on it?" Layla asked, making Warren choke on his soda.

"Uh...what?" Will questioned nervously, voice going an octave higher than he'd like.

"On your tongue-burn," Layla answered, as if stating the obvious. "Do you want me to blow on it so it'll cool off?"

"I'd...ahem!" Will loudly cleared his throat before saying, "I think I'll just...drink the soda."

"I don't think that's the right approach to ask for a kiss, y'know," Cris said, causing Will to choke on his own soda. "Especially if you want a French kiss. You might just want to take baby steps, Layla."

"And that soda just went right through me. Excuse me, guys!" Will yelled behind him, running from the car to the nearest restroom.

"I'm gonna..." Warren started, pointing to Will then himself repeatedly to explain. "Just check on him...right..."

With that, Warren got out of the car and walked in the same direction that Will ran off to by a public restroom. He was going to need that guy talk from someone a tad older and more experienced in that dating field. Ha! Like Warren Peace was a love guru! Walking into the unkempt, outdoor bathroom, Warren spotted Will washing his face to calm down. His face was a nice shade of pink.

"You poor bastard..." Warren commented, startling Will a bit.

"Yeah...thanks..." Will replied.

A woman's scream sounded, alerting the boys, and a quaking footstep shook the earth they stood on. They looked at each other for a moment then ran back outside to see what happened. Teens all positioned in front of the movie screen were either running away from their cars or were revving them up to get out of the way. Layla and Cris were already acting as opponents to probably the largest creature anyone had seen in a while.

Will and Warren were running past jostling teens and some adults to get to the creature and help the girls. However, from seemingly the darkest place in the heavens, a hawk-like creature swooped down and grabbed Warren like a mouse. Warren concentrated enough energy into his hands and threw a fireball at the bird, hitting it in the face and causing it to drop him. Will managed to rescue his friend by taking flight and catching him in the nick of time.

Layla summoned several trees in the form of stairs for Cris to hop on to get to the creature. It was a peculiar dragon, screeching as it searched through the frightened crowd for something. No one exactly knew what. Cris mustered up enough ice from the moisture in the air to freeze the creature's mouth closed. Angered, the dragon shot out a flaming blast from its mouth then turned to Cris, licking its teeth as it measured her up and down as supper...