Note: Again part of this story is based on a short I did for a contest. It didn't win anything but it contributed to this.



Carmen was right. I was malnourished. While I normally ate enough to last at minimum two weeks, I haven't eaten in three. It's all because I didn't want to reveal to her what I really was and lose my room. The worse thing happening would be appearing older than I'm supposed to appear. Not a good idea to set off a red flag and draw unwanted attention. She trusted I was around her age and white hair and wrinkles weren't part of the package. So one night I decided to go out and hunt for food.

If there's one thing I like about the Metropolis, it has to be the passiveness of whatever someone like me draws blood from. As long as I don't intentionally kill anyone I should be able to have a quick sip and be on my way. If the person is near death I can escape with killing someone because, well, what reason is there for them to go on living? I should get paid for doing them a service.

It's quite common to hunt for food as a party. Something about having strength in numbers and efficiency I believe is why. One adult human can feed about three to four. Of course said human will end up dead afterwards, but that's life for us. Who knows what connections our food has to those that hunt us or any enemies we make. Fuckers are worse than the J-dubs.

For me, I consider myself the solitary hunter. I can't stand hunting parties. If it's just my immediate clan members I'm fine, but parties can consist of extended clan as well. They're always up in your business and talk about the most mundane things. The so-called raconteurs always spin the far-fetched hunting stories with other parties. It gets stale hearing the same fucking thing to the point I can retell the same story but better. These same bloodsuckers think they're the best hunters they even offer me advice on how to seduce a victim.

I call bullshit.

Speaking of seduction, it's the only role you get if you're the only female in the party. You could be the most unattractive woman in their eyes, yet you're limited to the scout, the lookout, the bait – what the Hell! They treat you too much like a princess. In the end, it's all about proving who is the strongest in those male dominated parties. A man's ego is as big as his dick and all he wants to do is bone a chick.

Which brings me to my favourite places in the Metropolis to hunt. There are the alleyways behind local bars and restaurants, workers taking their smoke breaks and all. I was about to take one of them but, some other lucky vamp got to one chef.

Next were the nighttime joggers in the parks. While most parks are open spaces, I usually do my business in the bushes, but nope. I recognized one of the vampires in a hunting party from my last stay here. The last thing I wanted was to catch-up with him while he dominates the conversation. Always "Me! Me! Me!" with that bastard.

Another park played host to a witch coven's esbat, though they might've been a bachelorette party. Talia's was an option, but the Tavern had to host her esbat and thus closed the bar for the night. With a bar-hopping roommate I didn't want Carmen finding out about her place yet.

However, there is a place no vampire in the Metropolis dare go to — the Projects. The Projects weren't projects to begin with, but the city council decided to redevelop the area. The redevelopment never went through and thus sits a cesspool of crime and illegal activities. On second thought, it's the best place to hunt. No other vampires to bother me and I get first pick! Sadly, the quality of food's not so great nor is it clean. A girl's gotta eat though.

As I approached a three-storey apartment complex, three punk-ass teenagers were revelling in beating up an old man. The teens were no older than probably fourteen and the old man in his early fifties. He may have been forty but appeared as if his health took a toll.

I glimpsed one of the teen's eyes, and they were bloodshot; a side-effect of whatever substance they took. I could've gone after all three of them for what they were doing to the helpless man, but the drugs would affect me too. It's never a good idea to go raging through the Projects attacking everything in sight. Okay, okay, I had no idea what the drugs would've done to me, but certainly a good chance of that. The old man perhaps was an addict too but he wasn't on a drug-fueled rage.

I took a deep breath and yelled, "Hey! That's my dinner!"

The teens didn't bother to look at me, but I heard them utter things.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Whatever it is, let's get the fuck out of here before it eats us."

Once they left the old man alone, I swooped in. It was more walking ten steps since I can't fly, but I was starving. Just as I was about to make the guy feel at ease before I killed him, I had a good feeling I've seen his face before. And then it hit me like a sudden pie in the face. No pie in the face? Awesome! I thought someone was going to hit me with a pie.

Anyway, the last time I lived in the Metropolis, this old man was the manager at a family-owned chain of coffee shops. He operated the "Wine of the Bean Cafe" on Spring and Park. Every time he was there, he'd show me a sleight-of-hand trick and let me guess how he did it. He had aspirations of becoming a mentalist as well, but had his path set out to run the coffee chain. After a schizophrenia diagnosis and the chain bought out by one of the coffee conglomerates, his life deteriorated. That's what the media said about him, but I refused to acknowledge that fact. Offering mercy by releasing him from the life he was living would be a gift, but no, I couldn't do it. He had a brilliant mind, and he needed help.

I carried him to the nearby clinic and left him outside its doors. I knocked and once I was certain I heard someone come, I left the building. Fuck, why did I do that? I had to eat something. Thus I resorted to eating whatever living thing crossed my path. A chittering noise approached and — a rat! I picked the rat up and sunk my teeth into it. Its fur tasted of rancid, sewer water I wanted to throw it away. Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the clichéd saying goes.

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Finally something to eat! Vampires shouldn't be too picky on where they get their food sources from (I'll go into this in a future episode). Blood is blood, right? Is there food you don't like eating? If interactive questions aren't your thing feel free to vote, add to your library/list or comment on something else.

Song featured: "Eat It" by Weird Al

Edited: 01/08/2017