Behind Closed Doors: Prologue

Behind Closed Doors

Prologue

They say that every story that has beginning has a ending, sadly this is the end of mine.
The sparks fly from the destroyed overhead light as I try to crawl further away from my so called friends. I trained with them, been to their homes and even babysit their God damned kids! But how do they repay me? By shooting at me, trying to knife me, and even throwing military issued grenades at me trying to blow me to hell. Some friends I have eh? Wait, your asking me what I did to piss them off this bad?
Well I don’t know, take your pick out of what I’ve done so far. I blew one of their main offices to hell, I have let their enemies, -Which Ironically enough is my enemies too.- go free to go and kill another day, and as my final act in this pathetic excuses of a play called life, I am now revealing all the dirty little… Well who am I kidding? Big fucking secrets.
What kind of secrets? Well why should I tell you now? It would ruin any kind of motivation that you would have to finish this story. Don’t like it? Tuff shit, stop reading now if that is the case because if not your in you are in for a long one.
Now I’m not going to try for sympathy because last time I checked everyone gets their own shit to deal with in this life, but I do have to admit sometimes I tend to think the big guy is out to get me.
Enough of me crying though because I have more pressing matters at hand. Like me not dying just yet.
I say not just yet for a reason, because as I have already pointed out the end of my story is here. What’s that old saying? “The good die young.” Well I’m young but I’m sure as hell no saint.
With that being said let me share my “Damage repot” with you.
Right now as it stands I have three bullets in me. One in my left arm rendering it useless, one in my abdominal, -which I’m guessing cut straight through my kidney, well I don’t know for certain lets just call it a hunch.- And one in my right leg. On top of that I have been in the blast radius of grenades more then once.
So as you can see I’m not having a good day.
Why am I not dead you ask? Well who says I’m not? Ever here of something called the living dead? Yeah I let you think that through for a second. Yes your reading the autobiography of a self-proclaimed Vampire.
Still reading? I’m impressed, when people here of some guy claiming to be a Vampire they think he is a loon most of the time. Who’s to say that I’m not after all the shit I’ve seen. I mean there is a difference in between scraping your friends brain off of the asphalt, and watching old yeller die. Each is traumatic in there own way but one is more lasting.
See I just want my old life back. The shitty job, the old apartment, my old friends, and…
A new pain shoots through me, this time it’s in my heart. It’s not from being shot or stabbed, but from the pain of realizing how much I’ve lost.
I drag myself under the nearest desk knowing that even there I’m not safe, I try to draw a deep breath but find the pain that it triggers to immense.
From the look of where I am it seems like the office of a executive at this TV station. It’s just as destroyed as the rest of this place in truth, I see the corpse of a forty something man as I lay gasping for air. A half burnt picture of this poor saps family lays close by.
It shows him standing outside his house with what could ether be a close friend, or his life-partner. See that’s the thing about life you never know when It’s over.
I bring my modified twenty-two back out to check my ammo supply. I have three bullets in the magazine and then to check my belt to find that I only have one more fourteen round clip at my disposal.
Now you might just be wandering what kind of job I do to make me have to carry a gun with me at all times, well this much I will tell you now. I as you might put it a professional killer for my coven.
Now I have a lot of weapons at my disposal, but they happen to be out of ammo. I’ve used most of my supply by now, I mean I started out with a dragonov picking off a few problems from a distance, to now where I down to the wire with your basic pistol that happens to be modified.
I keep a wide range of weapons available at all times at my safe house. Anything ranging from your shotgun, -sawed off or original- to your basic military M4-18 combat assault rifle, to even a little perks here and there like grenade that a nicknamed “Willie-peats” –They set the target on fire by a chemical reaction-
Also add in my non firearm based weapons like knives, swords, landmines, and silver knuckles. All in all just your basic grab bag of weapons that even Gorge W, would have loved to find.

My job is not for the weak heart, nor the weak in stomach. What I mean by that is the simple fact that I’ve got the duty of hunting down things that my cause my bosses problem. Sometimes it’s a rouge lycan that steps out of line, other times it’s just some poor John doe who happened to learn a little bit to much about our world.
I am the long arm of the Vampire law, -God that sounds weird- I help to keep things in line and cover them up when they get out of control. How do I sleep at night? I don’t. One being the simple fact that I’m almost always on the clock, and two being that sometimes I can see the peoples faces again right before they died.
The pain, fear, and loss that’s reflected in their eyes. Truly the eyes are a window into the soul.
So now I’ve gone rouge myself, and the people that I’ve trained are now trying to finish off their new found problem before it gets to advanced. Bad news for them is what your reading right now is my last ditch effort to ensure that everything will be revealed to you humans once and for all.
Now I’m not going to tell you why I’ve went rouge just yet, but you will learn in due time. For now I’ve got to try and stay alive for at least a little bit longer so I can finish off this ramblings of a mad man.
I take a blood soaked hand and run it through my short hair, “My god Garet, you really have done it now.” I say to myself.
I guess I do need to introduce myself. My name is Garet, I’m eighteen years old. Yes I’m still a “Youngster” as most people put it, and I despise being called that. You will learn more about me as it goes, but what is needed to be clear right now is the fact that I never asked for any of this.
Now since I’ve cleared that up I’ve got some more pressing matters at hand. I’ve got at least four Vampires waiting for me to make the wrong move so they can finish me off and go home with their new found money.
I peak my head out for a second to get a better look at what I’m dealing with, and am greeted with a bullet being fired at me.
But from what I saw and can now make up a plan. The layout for where I am now is the office part of the TV station, so out of the door is a collection of cubicles that has been littered not only with bullet casings but also two or three other bodies of employees.
This isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted for the world to finally see the truth for a change, but in return I end up hurting even more people then when I started.
Isn’t that how life usually is? I mean you try as hard as you can to make a living with your nine-to-five, and you try to make it easier on your family. But plans never work out like you planed them.
So the basic layout is a bunch of desk with some cubicles scattered around the places, there is a fire escape on the far right of the place, a few windows lining the wall that shows off the news room in the first floor, and then the door in which brought me in here.
Logic would say run for the fire escape and work from there, but when you have four trained marksmen waiting for you to make a dumb move you tend to try and not make that one fatal mistake.
My second idea is to wait it out as log as possible and try and pick them off slowly but surely and pray that they don’t have reinforcements on the way. See even though I might be a Vampire that doesn’t mean I can go John Rambo and live to die another day. I know how wired this sounds but this is real life, not Hollywood.
And then I have option three is try to make some form of a diversion and try to sneak out within that time frame. I think I’ve got a better chance of them throwing their guns on the floor and have them scream how sorry they are.
So out of all this I decide the best course of action would be me testing me luck and staying still and picking them off one by one.
I peak back out and find no bullets to greet me this time, I survey the surroundings to get a better feel then without notice the stupid bastards cell phone begins to ring out of the right side. Instinct takes over and I fire my last four rounds quickly at the target and is rewarded by the sickening sound of dead weight hitting the floor.
“Didn’t I ever teach you guys turn off your fucking phones before going into the field?” I scream out with laughter
Happy by the fact that there is one less of them to deal with now I go back into cover just before more rounds begin being rained down on top of my head. I load my final clip into my pistol and pray that this mess will end soon.
I’m beginning to think I might just live through this after all, if I can quit bleeding sometime soon.
In the background I hear one of the targets begin swearing madly, I now know that this can not possible be one of the squads that I’ve trained. But it seems as I have made my one fatal mistake, instead of listening to what was going on out there I was to preoccupied by the mans rant about my mother.
The next thing I know is that there was a noise of something small hitting the floor in the room I’m hiding in, I peak out to find a small round black ball about five feet away from me.
I realize instantly that this was one of the newer grenades that we have made with a blast radius of at least thirty feet, meaning that right now I’m pretty much screwed.
“Son of a bitch.” I muttered out knowing that things just got a lot more difficult for me.