Meriwa, a genetically engineered monster hunter with a penchant for cheap whiskey and cracking terrible jokes, lands a job working for a vampire-led corporation where she discovers true love with an eccentric billionaire vampire CEO, a once in a lif...
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On three, I threw my weapon squarely into the middle of the boot clad foot belonging to the lead man. He screamed, immediately releasing his captive who fell to the ground and crawled away while staring at the scene in disbelief. The other man pulled out a handgun resting in an open holster around his waist, and I grinned, having noticed the weapon earlier when I'd assessed the guys in the bar.
Why were evil people so damned predictable?
I flew at him before he could pull the trigger and easily wrested the gun from the second attacker, seizing it mere seconds after the leader had released the woman. With my mind working quickly, I realized the lead goon was already backing away from the scene, leaving just me and the second goon grappling with one another. It was easy. The guy was relying on his superior strength to struggle against me, but the thing about strength was that it wouldn't do you a lick of good if you didn't have the brains to direct that strong body. Even with my artificially enhanced speed, though, I'd be no match on my own against these two if they were supernaturals like shifters or vampires. I had to remind myself of this because if I didn't, I'd get cocky. And if I ever got cocky, I'd get killed. That was how it always worked for people, Luckily, though, these guys were all human.
Dumb, stupid humans.
Knowing how much of an advantage I had over them, I grinned maniacally as I took the upper hand in the struggle, then stepped back and raised the gun I'd wrestled from the man and pointed it at his head. My finger shook, itching to pull the trigger and blow the guy's brains out, but I resisted that impulse. It was the monster talking. I wasn't a monster. My grandfather had once told me that weapons weren't good or bad. It was their users that did the bad things. My body might be a weapon, but my mind was the user.
And my mind wasn't bad.
At the last second, I moved my aim a little to his left and pulled the trigger, grazing the man's ear in the process and leading him to fall to the ground and place his hands over his ears as if to stave of the painful ringing caused by my discharging of a weapon at such a close range.
As I watched him writhe in pain, I realized I wanted to kill him, but that urge wasn't right. I wasn't bad, and murder was bad. With both men now cowering, I flicked on the gun's safety, ejected the magazine, and then shoved the gun and magazine into my waistband. I would have thrown it away in disgust, but I didn't want to chance some kid finding it.
Bloodied and realizing what had just happened wasn't exactly normal, the second goon with the bleeding ear stumbled to his feet and backed up to stand next to his compatriot. Both men moved together, trying to get around me to return to the bar. The entire time they danced around my form, they refused to show me their backs, and a smile crossed my lips as I noticed the leader still had my knife lodged in his foot. He was shuffling pitifully next to his only slightly wounded compatriot.
"Hey!" My shout made them flinch, and I smiled wider as I explained, "Give that back."
"What?" The leader asked, terror contorting his face when he realized I was speaking to him. Maybe his ears were also ringing from the gunshot. I decided that I should clarify for him.
