After all, being a vampire hunter was your job, main job at least, but it felt more like a life-long habit since you were twelve. Taught to kill, to have a considerable lack of ethics, and much less towards the beings who became the cause of it.

Your parents (bless their hearts) were the ones that pushed.. no dragged you into vampire hunting. Dragging you into that long line of 'so was her grandma and Grandpa, and her uncle and aunties and cousins' and you? You were next in-line. Removing, and killing off these.. creatures was engrained not only into you, but your bloodline it seems. To 'try' to keep humans safe from these snarling beasts of burden.

Though you had a fairly hard time barely convincing yourself that these were people anymore as soon as they turned, in all honesty, it just made the job easier thinking of them as immediate threats than they originally were, really in hindsight you had in mind.

Less morals make easier targets.

Gun in hand, specialized bullets in your 9 mm caliber in the next (or your choice of weapon). Palms sweated with sickening familiarity - nervousness - making it sticky and even more uncomfortable, and much less focused on the target. Great! You just loved being screwed over, again. How many more times would you have to dance, again?

Clothes fluttered gently in the breeze as you two face off, the one vampire your parents had never accomplished to kill. Alucard, or Vlad who cares at this point. Even your parents refused to be in his sights, even in a stand-off. You knew very well that everyone in your family line would blow up, or even roll in their graves but, at this point you haven't died yet so who cares. (Not you apparently).

It wasn't the first time you've ran into him, probably wouldn't be the last and he was getting far more greatly annoyed by you than any hunter with a long-shot. You were slippery, hard to catch, you refused to be killed or caught, all that sweet annoying music to him, shifting his feet slightly. The wind seemed to almost pick up with his irritated stance, adjusting his own grip on the trigger he attempted to smile.

"You". He greeted attempting to be cordial with you felt like scraping a rock for water.

"My old, annoying friend.. You've come to dance again with me? Didn't we just do this.. Two months ago". He paused for a minute to make his point across. Waving his gun in a gesture of a shrug.

"I hope that gunshot wound healed well, it's a surprise you even survived, but what can I expect from you, you slippery little--"

You tried to shoot his foot immediately, cutting him off (or use your weapon of choice) and he hissed at you before his once slight smile stretched out into a full blown grin, not just any grin one stacked with pure irritation.

"It's a wonder why you even would bother. It always ends the same, we never end up finishing what we started.." he cocked his head barely to the right, but a hint of surprising frustration let slip between the words spoken and the body language he used. He swore you had to have some sort of fetish for finding him and living to tell the tale.

Gods was it annoying! Just die already like everyone else, that stubborn batch of vampire hunters wouldn't die out of line, and now dealing with one of them who finally had the balls to come after him had to be the most mind boggling, frustrating curse he had ever encountered.

He swore he should've killed your mother when he had the chance but, screwed himself over by letting her live for the sick amusement of 'just because I can'.

Regret seemed to be a palpable emotion.

"Then again, it was my fault for.. not taking care of your mother first-hand when I heard of her little.. questionable excuse, whose all grown up to be a thorn in my side". As he aimed at you with the silver guns glinting in the setting Sun. It didn't matter if he shot or not, somehow you either got grazed or dodged perfectly.

This was grating on his already terrible patience with you. And the fight hadn't even started.