Vampire Slayers (Working Title) Part One

         “Okay, he should be coming out into the road.” The static voice filled Bridget’s ear. From where she sat in her dark alley she could see the whole thing. A dark figure moved from the sidewalk into the road. Even in the streetlights, she couldn’t make out his face.
         “I can see, moron. I’m not blind. I just need you to tell me where he is when he leaves my sight. Your cameras aren’t just there for nothing.” She replied sarcastically, scowling in frustration. A sniff was received over the line before a click. With another scowl she tore the earpiece from her ear and dropped it into her pocket. “Stupid Robert,” She insulted her accomplice under her breath.
         Seeing the cloaked, shadowy figure stop out in the road, Bridget stood from her crouch. Her black high-heeled boots clipped with each step she took out into to asphalt. “About time, bloodsucker.” She smirked at her newfound foe. She joined the man on the street, too, standing not far from him on the road.
         The other hissed, turning a full 180 degrees to face her. The hiss quickly turned into a laugh. “Ah,” His voice was deep and solid, “The prey just seem to come to me. This shouldn’t be too hard.” The man appeared not to care that Bridget knew who he was, and what he was. But he obviously didn’t know much for he began to rush at her at an inhumane pace. His shifting coat spread out behind him, but nothing could be made out from the white light of the lamps. Just shadows and blurs.
         Bridget stopped herself from laughing out loud as she reached under her trench coat to retrieve two hand guns. “Time to die,” She heard him speak. In the blink of an eye, the woman flipped sideways to avoid the oncoming man. He faltered and tripped, just barely missing her. She landed, her coat swirling around her ankles, spinning to aim at his fallen body. Bullets rang through the air, stirring the calm night. Empty shells rolled on the desolated road, wisps of smoke drifting from them
         After the buzzing in her ears faded, Bridget kicked the dead man. Dead, she guessed. Just to make sure, she knelt by him and turned him over, searching through his jacket to feel the bullet holes and blood. “My job’s done, Robert. I’ll be back to HQ in seven minutes.” She spoke into the microphone on her collar before standing. “Bloody creature. And you’re just the first. But don’t worry, you’ll have more friends in hell after tonight.” She spat on the dead body.
         Strolling back down the alley of which she came, Bridget found herself lost in thought as she traced her steps back to the city park. Without a care of who saw her, if anyone would still be awake to see her, she paced herself to the playing equipment built in the center. Finding a lone swing, she sat on it and took a quick glance at her watch. 2:46AM it read. Her muscle tensed as she heard approaching footsteps. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins; she half reached for her handguns, but stopped herself. If the approaching person saw what she was doing, they might blast her away or attack her even if they don’t know who she is.
         “Sorry I’m late,” A wave of relief crashed down on Bridget. It was Miles, another one working with Robert. “He was putting up a pretty good fight, but I finally blasted him through the heart.” He bragged, walking in front of Bridget. He wore a similar trench coat to hers. She could make out his pants and shirt from the casting light of the street lamps. Shifting her feet, she could feel her leather skirt on her legs and her knee-high boots rub together.
         Miles spun around to the sound of a vehicle. On his back was a shotgun, a very large shotgun, Bridget noted. She stood and took her place next to him. “Looks like you aren’t the only one late.” She smirked and began to walk to the street. The van beached itself along the curb, both headlights dark and the windows half tinted. It looked old carrying chipped paint and rust, but with Robert in control, it could last another twenty years.
((Under Construction))