Your life, with a twist.

Chapter 1

Your name is Moe. You're about 5'5" and have nearly white hair that make your royal purple eyes stand out. You ended up working late, but it was alright with you because you worked at your favorite store. Barns and noble.

It was about 8:45 and you yawned as you pushed your cart around, placing books on the shelves where they belonged. The store had closed almost two hours ago, but of course, you were stuck stocking the shelves.

Smiling as you herd the alarm on your phone sound, you ran behind your cart, making a mad-dash to the service desk. Leaving the cart in its designated place, you sprinted to the employee lounge, opened your locker and snatched out your keys and wallet, tossing in your name tag. You practically pranced out of the store and felt like a kid on the first day of summer vacation. You stepped outside and you were greeted by a cool,Texas summer breeze.

You smiled, and turned back to lock the door. Your violet flannel gently swayed with the breeze as you inserted the key to the lock. After successfully locking the door, you stuffed your key lanyard into your front right pocket, keys dangling.

Slowly, you made your way to your car. A 1967 chevy imapla. But, you were stopped at the sound of your name being called. "MOE!"

You turned to see who had called your name. The wind was knocked out of you when someone grabbed you from behind and pulled you into a bear hug. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" You struggled to get away.

Your hugger sighed. "Moe. Its me. Dirk." His voice sounded disappointed.

He stopped hugging you and turned you around, so you were facing each other. He was wearing a black tank-top with an orange hat icon, black skinny jeans and orange high-tops. His hair was like yours. Only it was spiked, standing up. His pointed anime shades were seemingly familiar though.

"Again. Who the fuck are you?" You straightened out your flannel, displaying your Fall Out Boy T-shirt.

"I'm your brother. Well, one of them at least." Dirks accent was just like yours.

"You want me to believe that?" You crossed your arms and looked up at him. Holy shit, he towered over you.

"Well, yes and no... I wouldn't believe me either, but your name is Moe Ana Strider. You're twenty-two years old and you come from a long line of hunters." Dirk stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Hunters?" You quirked an eyebrow.

"Chris didn't tell you?"

"He was rarely ever home and I never saw a deer head on the wall. Whenever he was home he was usually drunk or sleeping." You stepped back a little.

"I knew he wouldn't be a good parent... Where's your car?" Dirk stepped closer.

You looked over your shoulder at the black car a few parking spaces away.

"Oh sweet, he gave you the Impala." He trotted over to the Automobile and looked at you over his shoulder like an excited puppy.

"C'mon. Open up the trunk. I wanna show you something."

"Why should I?" You walked up next to him and began to open the trunk.

"Because you're my little brother and you should do as I say." Dirk grinned at you.

"Cut the brother crap. For all I know you could be another Jeffrey Dahmer."

"Ouch.." He pouted and you pulled the trunk of your car open.

"See. A normal car trunk. Amazing right." You looked at Dirk.

"So I guess you never found the compartment." He smirked and pulled up the floor of the trunk, revealing shotguns, pistols, handguns , machetes, crosses, ammo and... salt?