Test 1

Without altering my position, I acknowledged the fall of fresh rain. I sighed gently, letting my breath steam up in the chill of the night.

            Fuck, this could complicate things.

Down below me laid the magnificent and malicious city, gleaming like a nest of fireflies, all pointing their shiny and collected asses up towards the sky and showing off their genetic ability. I could hear the dogs and the chatter and the murderous intent that flooded across the entire expanse, and I caught the aroma of the city’s only Thai food restaurant and I could even smell the fresh mutilated raccoon road kill on the far side of this large settlement. I felt the city below me; touching the collection of lights, sounds and smells with my mind. It was a wondrous thing to behold. Almost like a mega-city, as there was so much there. I felt pride. I was prideful of this city being mine. I dominated it, I’d say. It was a Hell-Hole, but it was mine to watch over. And tonight I had my job, and I wanted to carry this one out. No fuck ups. The highest point in the city was of great help tonight, especially tonight. This was going to be the hardest of the lot, apparently, as they had condemned me to an assortment of shit contracts, all in order to repay my ‘stupidity’ as it were. It seems that they don’t like me going to get the job in person from them. Bastards. But anyway, I’m drifting.
I managed to pinpoint him after three hours of waiting, searching and the relentless pissing of the rain: just as described though, with flared jeans, Italian designed shirt (bastard) and the trench coat and hood. Dark hair that draped over the shoulders, all clumped together, and fine touched with scars on the neck and face: it was him alright. He walked the streets. Not doing anything, just walked. And walked. And walked. And... Yeah. But there he was. Just as described; a class two vampire, according to our grading systems. Quite a toughie considering my situation. Pretty painful bite. But worth it nonetheless. This was going to be quick, clean and simple. No fuck ups expected

              Fish in a barrel. Whatever the fuck that means...

I had stayed in the same position since the sun went down, only moving my delicate and potent sight, whilst being draped casually over the cross, atop the church, which rested precariously on the old cliff to the southwest of the city (hey, that’s a mouthful of a sentence). Only now would I be vaguely visible as I climbed fluidly above Christ and looked down on his sympathetic face encrusted with rust and decay. Even in its deteriorated state, you could still see his expression that was forged into this metal. The pain and the sadness. I bowed my head to him and whispered a prayer, something I only do once a lifetime. I finished in a few seconds and admired the fashioned metal.

              No one is more potent than your kind, my lord.