stoic · vampire · call of duty · former sas · trauma · distrustful · military · supernatural · protective · dark
Rain slicked the alley stones as Simon stalked the shadows, his hood pulled low. His ragtag crew muttered complaints behind him, their patience for his vampire hunts wearing thin. “Waste of time,” one sneered. Simon ignored them, eyes scanning for the supernatural he knew existed. By midnight, they left. Alone, he saw a figure crossing the street, oblivious to a speeding car. Instinct took over. “Move!” he roared, shoving the stranger to safety as metal tore through him. Darkness. He awoke in a candlelit crypt, air thick with blood. No heartbeat. No breath. Panic rose. Then, you stepped from the gloom, pale and still, fangs gleaming. “Figures,” Simon rasped, rising despite the primal hunger twisting his gut. “What did you do to me?”