The Bounty Hunter

While standing casually next to the bar in the hotel Luxuria, Dean stole another sip from his martini. He was a classy guy, and happy to not be 'on call' for the evening. No need to tangle too much of his life up in that business anymore. Just a few jobs here and there to keep up a comfortably expensive lifestyle, and to keep himself visible in the eyes of the mob so they don't think that he's trying to jump ship. He knows what happens to those poor saps who try to walk out on Mr. Bogart, and he wasn't about to be one of them. Tonight, however, he had simply come to a formal party to relax, tell a few jokes, and remind himself that he actually IS a part of high class society again. Vampire, or no vampire.

The gathering was for a high ranking vampire that the elders seemed to favor above many others, for whatever reason. And it was evidently well financed. But Dean could easily fit in, with his black suit and tie, dark hair combed to perfection, looking older than his physical state of 17 years. "Hello." Came a voice from his right side. It was a young girl, about 13 years of age possibly, but you could never tell with vampires. She might have been even older than Dean. It depends on how long she's been one of them.

Dean thought she was absolutely stunning to look at, and yet, was quick to tell her, "Sorry honey, but I'm not biting tonight. However...if you have a brother at the party tonight, maybe we can talk." She gave Dean a strange look and walked off to join her friends elsewhere. Dean couldn't help but grin to himself, and while a romp with some young flusie OR her brother was more than appealing to his bisexual nature, he already had someone at home. John, his soulmate, his love for life. A beautiful boy that would exist as the one and only entity that Dean would ever need to be satisfied. He was incredible. Everything that Dean could have asked for in a partner. If it weren't for Dean's lifestyle, his dear John might actually be able to go out in public a bit more often. Instead, he has to stay tucked away in the basement of the old hotel where he and Dean have made a home over the years. Too bad...he would have loved this place.

Dean went to one of the bars and grabbed himself another smooth martini, made extra dry the way he likes it, and ran into one of his old connections accidently. " Long time no see. You're looking good babe." He said.

"I do what I can." Dean was already looking for an escape, someone else to talk to before he fell into an unpleasant conversation with one of his bounty hunter 'buddies', but no such luck.

"So what happened to ya anyway? I hear you haven't pulled a legitimate job in over five months. What, are you getting soft on us?"

"Old, actually. Don't know if I've got quite the taste for it like I used to. But I get by. I'm sure they know where to find me." Dean smiled, taking another sip of his drink. He was a gentleman, even when he didn't want to be. "And i hasn't been that long, either. I just got pinched on the last job, that's all."

"Yeah, yeah. I hear rumors here and there. Some say you made the hit and were robbed of the bonus. But..." He shrugged his shoulders, a grin on his lips, "...SOME people say that you had nothing to do with it. Some even say that your partner was the only one making the hits, while you were dragging your heels."

Dean felt a twinge of anger rise up inside of him, but not enough to make him retract any of the class he had shown so far. "People say, huh?"

"People INDEED say. But I'm not one to spread gossip. Especially on a collegue as...'decorated' as you are." Dean felt the conversation's atmosphere changing slightly, and decided to walk away from it before it got personal.

"If Jerry wants to take credit for my hit, then he can have it. I've got penty of war stories to spare, afterall. Stories get twisted when passed from person to person, this is exactly why I don't work with a partner anymore." Dean said with a smile. He knew the business, and if word got out that he was getting soft, hired gunman would be taking his jobs left and right. He couldn't have that, he had a career to look out for. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some mingling to do."

"Don't let me stop you, pretty boy."

"Hadn't planned to, old friend." Dean tapped him on the shoulder and walked away, his drink now reaching the midway mark of the glass. He didn't have the time for this. He and Jerry were an invinceable team when it came to making even the most complex hits for the mob. They were used for the inside jobs. With Dean as the strongarm and Jerry as the frenzied wildcard, most of their targets were helpless against their assault, no matter HOW well guarded they were at the time. But reputation counts for a lot in this racket, and when rumors of Jerry's wild stunts and diehard methods got around, they began to make Dean's stealthy and less dazzling sneak attacks look 'second class' in comparison. Before long, Jerry was taking most o the praise and credit for the hits, and Dean one day had enough. He became a freelance hunter, and has been on his own ever since.

Dean hadn't even made it all the way across the room, when his instincts suddenly perked up out of the blue. He looked up to see someone across the room looking at him, breaking the eye contact as soon as he saw Dean look back. Dean looked away for a moment, and then shot a glance back to the same table...only to see the man staring at him again. There was no mistaking it, someone was watching him closely. Dean looked off in another direction, scanning the room secretly, and when he saw three or more people catch his gaze as well...he knew something was up. He took one last gulp of his drink and set the glass down on the table. He then got up slowly, straightening out his jacket, and calmly walked out of the dining room. He made his way to the bathroom without drawing much attention, and went straight to the most convenient space for him to stand. Right at the sink in front of the mirror where he could see anyone coming in through the bathroom door.

Sure enough, seconds later, one of the guys who was watching him walked in, and Dean gently took his balance just in case something happened. The man made a brief eye contact through the reflection of the mirror, and then went into one of the stalls and closed the door. Dean listened closely for any noise, and then he heard it...a familiar 'click'. The sound of a gun being loaded. He knew it all too well. Suddenly, the man burst forth from the stall and shouted, "You killed my BROTHER you son of a BITCH!!!" While firing rounds at the sink. But Dean was already gone. The man stopped dead in his tracks, looking around for his target, and then grabbed his walkie talkie to alert the guys outside. "He's here! He got away from me somehow! FIND HIM!!! NOW!!!" He shut off the communication, and turned to leave through the door, and that's when Dean caught him coming around the corner and connected a harsh blow to his chin! The man fell backwards onto the cold tile of the floor, and Dean was quickly moving forward to take the gun from him. But the man recovered too fast, and pointed it in Dean's direction.

Shots rang out and Dean did his best to avoid the rapid gunfire by sliding underneath one of the stalls and taking cover behind the metallic door. The man began firing rounds into the stall and the bullets pierced through each side, causing Dean to jump up and suspend himself in mid air above the toilet to keep from being hit. "I knew you'd slip up! I knew I'd find you!" The man shouted.

"Can't we talk this out?" Dean shouted back. "You're making me a bit nervous here!"

"You weren't so talkative when you killed my brother in cold blood!"

"It was BUSINESS! Your brother was into some very dirty dealings, he HAD to be neutralized!" But Dean's reasoning was no use.

"Neutralize THIS, fucker!!!" And the gunfire blazed through the walls of the bathroom stall with a fury. Dean knew it was either move, or take the hit. And he wasn't about to mess up his suit!

Dean rolled up and over the side of the stall, spinning to the floor, and was able to deliver a harsh kick to the gunman's chest before running for the door. Bullets swiftly buzed around his head and shoulders as Dean charged back out into the dining room. Evidently the order had been given via walkie talkie, and he saw three or four MORE men pull their weapons out as well. Wide eyed, Dean made a break for the front door!

A symphony of gunfire echoed throughout the once classy dining hall, and Dean covered his head with his arms as he ran top speed towards the glass doors in front of him. The buffet table, the chandeliers, the vases and walls around him exploding as each bullet struggled to hit its target! Unable to stop his forward motion long enough to open the door, Dean crashed right through it, breaking the glass and tumbling down the steps in front of the building. He rolled all the way down to the bottom, where a couple was picking up their shiny, blood red Ferari from the valet. They stopped just in time to see Dean hit the bottom step, and roll to his feet. He straightened up, smoothed out his jacket, and quickly fixed his hair, before politely asking, "Do you mind if I borrow your wheels for a second. It's kind of an emergency."

The couple was speechless with all that was going on, and before they could answer, Dean took the keys from the valet, and left a small tip in his hand before taking off in the car. Just before the team of henchmen were running out to get another shot at him. They through their guns down and shouted cuses at the top of their lungs for letting him get away, but it would do no good. Dean was already long gone.

"And people wonder why I want to get out of this racket." Dean said to himself while slowing down to a comfortable 45 miles an hour in his newly acquired wheels. Then he looked in the seat next to him, to see a chilled bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. No doubt for the couple to celebrate with later. He read the note attached to the bottle, and it said 'Happy Anniversary Fred and Maureen'. Dean couldn't help but smile, and as he loosened his tie and popped the cork, he said, "Happy Anniversary indeed. Here's to you folks." And swigged a hefty gulp straight from the bottle.

Another night, another conflict. Sometimes...he's gotta wonder if it's really all worth the hassle. Maybe, maybe not. Sooner or later...a guy gets tired of doing what he's told.


From the creator of "Gone From Daylight"

Alone, each one of them is a force to be reckoned with. But when all five UNITE...prepare for fireworks!!! Even the vampire Maffia has it's rebels...

"Pak Ratz"
It's showtime!

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