2DISCLAIMER: I do not own Blade, and I make no money from this fan fiction.
BLADE: The Last Hunter
by
Rhonnel Ferry
I am the last of my kind. No, I don't mean half vampires or dhampirs or whatever you call it. I mean the hunters. Those are my people. Were...my people. No more. They're all gone. Whistler, Karen, Abigail, Hannibal,... All gone. All dead.
Did we really think we could win? Were we really that stupid? Our enemies had the numbers. Decades of combat experience over us. Hell, we were lucky to have lasted that long. Maybe our enemies allowed us to live. Maybe immortality got boring, and the blood suckers needed new playmates. Well, they musta' eventually bored of us. 'Cause when they decided to take us seriously, they wiped us out in almost one fell swoop.
Oh, that didn't mean they died quick. No. They beat us fast enough. But the dying? Those sadistic vampire bastards made sure each and every hunter died slow and painful.
But they missed one.
#
"So what do you think, Jesus?" a lanky fang boy asks his long haired companion. "Do we turn her?"
Jesus looks down at the young girl bleeding to death at his feet.
"I don't know, Jose," he sighs, clearly troubled. "What she look like to you? A six? Six point five? I mean we swore never to turn anybody under seven."
"That is so sexist. You guys make me sick," their fang girl companion comments.
"Hey, you should take that as a compliment, Maria. I turned you, didn't I?"
Maria smiles, revealing her sharp bloody canines. "Well, when you put it that way..."
I could say something cool and witty right about now. You know, Spider-man like. Took me a while to realize that, while doing it makes me seem badass, it takes away the element of surprise. And I have learned to value the element of surprise. Sadly, it was a lesson I learned the hard way. But a lesson I learned, still.
I pull out a teakwood dagger from the leather sash I wear over my shoulder. That's right, I said teakwood. Not silver. Silver is expensive and difficult to come by. You don't go around throwin' silver all over the place. Teakwood kills vampires just fine, and the blood suckers wont think any less of me.
From behind the bushes, I accurately hurl the dagger, piercing Jesus' heart through his back!
"What the fu-!" he screams, just as his entire body gets engulfed in flames, and immediately bursts into ashes!
"Daywalker!" Jose points at me.
I pull out two more daggers, one in each hand, and step out in the open. No point hidin' in the bushes now. These vamps have such heightened senses, I was lucky to have gotten this close to them unnoticed. But at least now, I only have to deal with two leeches instead of three.
Just then, the one called Maria tilts her head back and shrieks into the night sky! And before I know it, I got about ten more of the fuckers comin' at me from within darkened alleyways and behind street corners!
"OK, that's a new trick," I observe.
One of the Nosferatu newcomers lunges at me. His arms are inhumanly long. But my leg is longer, and I smash 'em in the side o' the head with a wheel kick! I'm tempted to stake him while he's dazed, but from the corner of my eye, I spot three more comin' right at me!
The trick to fighting multiple opponents is to keep movin'. That way you don't have to deal with all of them at once. So I leap away just as they pounce! Then I back pedal. Whenever one o' them comes too close, I knock 'em down on his ass with a push kick or a side kick.
Be patient. Fight defensively for now. Wait for an opening. Been fighting against impossible odds just like this all my life! And being reckless, going berserk is the most stupid thing I could do. Although, I admit, it works for some guys, like Wolverine. But his healing factor is better than mine. And I don't have adamantium bones.
With several of them down, off balance, or groggy,...then I switch tactics!
I snarl, and stab the two nearest vamps right in their chests! And before they completely turn to dust, I throw the daggers into the hearts of two more! Suddenly going on the offensive seems to have caught them off guard. Some of them just stand there stupefied like deers caught in headlights. Hell, they might as well be. Because I'm about to run right over them like a drunk in a monster truck!
The ones I knock down earlier get back up. But they don't fight. Instead they turn tail! I let 'em go. I'll get 'em another time. Besides, though I'm tryin' not to show it, I'm almost out of breath. After the journeymen scamper, only Jose and Maria remain.
"You two still here?" I ask them.
"After what you did to my brother?" Jose angrily answers. "No way I'm running from you."
"Neither am I," the woman bravely,...make that foolishly, adds.
They attack simultaneously! They're faster than what I'm used to. I'm too busy dodging punches and kicks, there's no chance to counterattack! Jose strikes with a roundhouse. I get my arms up in time, but the impact launches me into the air!
I still manage to land on my feet, but my forearms hurt like a bitch! And in a split second, they're both almost on top of me again! I throw a dagger at Maria. She easily swats it away. But at least it slows her down enough, giving me a chance to just deal with Jose one on one.
I parry a right hook, then counter with three straight rapid punches to his midsection. He don't even feel it. The asshole practically laughs it off. In my face! So I respond with a knee to the groin!
The tall man squeaks and buckles! I pull out another teakwood dagger, hold it in an icepick grip, and stab him through the back, piercing him in the heart! Just like how I done his brother, Jesus.
"No!" Maria screams in fury.
I shut her up with a flying back kick to the mouth! One of her fangs gets dislodged. Then I pin her to the ground, and poise a dagger over her left titty.
"Jose and Jesus. Which vampire sired them?" I growl at her.
She spits blood into my face, and replies with an outburst of profanity in the vampire tongue. I'm a little rusty, but I'm pretty sure it had somethin' to do with my testicles. Or a microwave. Or both. I said I was rusty.
I continue, "You and Jose. You're faster, stronger than any vampire I ever staked. Now, either you're using some kind of super soldier steroid, or the vamp that sired them is one badass bloodsucker, and you all inherited his...badassness."
"I have no idea what the devil you're talking about, Daywalker! And even if I did-!"
"Fine. Guess you and I will have to stay in this...compromising position...until the sun comes up."
She panics then. Starts struggling fiercely. Bitch is strong. Takes everything I got, and she still very nearly breaks free.
"Mendoza!" she finally concedes. "His name is Mendoza. He owns Museo de la Guerra. That's where you'll find him."
"Museo de la Guerra. Yeah. I know where to find it. Thank you."
I reward her with a stake to the heart, which is far more merciful than getting burned by sunlight. Far more merciful than what they deserve, after bleedin' that poor girl to death.
#
"Baluuut?!" a small pigtailed Filipino girl, in a dirty, old oversized T-shirt, carrying a basket of boiled duck eggs in one arm, offers.
For some reason or another, she chose the front of my apartment building to peddle her street food.
I walk right past her. I don't need eggs. I need my serum. It's like a blood substitute. But the secret to synthesizing it died with Whistler and Karen. So instead I go to the blood banks or butcher shops. I make sure to only take a small amount at a time, so that I don't get intoxicated on blood lust, and go crazy or somethin'.
It's almost daylight. I'm exhausted from both battle and hunger. Should go to the Museo de la Guerra. Stake Mendoza in his sleep. But he'll probably have human familiars watching over him. And in my condition, even they could possibly beat me.
I open the door, and I am instantly welcomed home by the familiar stink of dead rats and urine. I trudge up the rickety stairs. The floorboards squeak noisily, but most of the other tenants are still asleep at this hour, anyway.
When I unlock the door to my room, the first thing that comes to my mind is, "How the mighty have fallen."
There 'aint no 1968 Dodge Charger. No high tech chemistry set where Karen can wage biological warfare against the undead. No workbench for Whistler to create my once remarkable arsenal. No gun wall, no weapon stand, no sword display rack,... None o' that.
No, what I got is a thin mattress on a rusty bedstead. A mini fridge with blood bags in it. A cramped lavatory. A small TV. A carpet covered in wood shavings from all the whittling I do.
The only thing of value I really have is a big antique lock box. That's where I store all the bling I scavenge from my kills. Vampires love bling. I sell the items to pawn shops or trade it. Use the money to buy blood, pay for the rent, coins for the laundromat, and other random miscellaneous bullshit.
Speakin' of which. I gotta take the newly confiscated bling from my coat pockets, and put it in that there lock box. Then I gotta whittle me some more teakwood daggers.
Yea. Gotta do a lot of things. But I do none of them. What I do is face-plant on my mattress, and pass out.
#
Damn. I musta' slept over twelve hours, 'cause it's night again when I wake up. Missed out on the whole morning and afternoon, might as well be full vampire! Daywalker my ass. Should start callin' myself the Daysleeper.
I undress, step into the shower. Afterwards, I take a small measuring cup from the dish rack, and a wine bottle half full of blood from the fridge. I drink a glassful. It's not enough. It's never enough. But I stop myself from having more anyway.
I don't know if my enemies really are getting stronger, or I'm getting weaker 'cause I'm starving myself.
Time to get to work. Get dressed, fill my leather sash and belt with teakwood daggers. Reach under my bed, and pull out a silver bladed machete. One of the few silver weapons I have left. I put on the coat to hide the weapons. I put on the sunglasses to... Well, nothin'. The sunglasses are cool.
#
"Baluuut?!" the little girl offers again, as I step outside.
"No," I reply irritably.
Then I flag a cab.
"Museo de la Guerra," I tell the driver. He nods.
Damn, I miss my 1968 Dodge Charger. I miss that car more than I miss Hannibal King.
#
Museo de la Guerra is a simple, one story gallery. They mostly display weapons, art, and whatnot from, or inspired by, the Spanish civil war. It's closed for the night, and the guard booth is empty. Actually the whole place seems empty. The front entrance leads to the lobby. A door to the left leads to the patio.
I find Mendoza waiting for me there. He's dressed in a clean, gray and white suit vest. His dark hair is wavy. About shoulder length. Got a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. In his right hand he has a cavalry sword with a curved blade.
I ask, "What, your familiars heard I was comin', and decided to abandon you?"
He laughs. "No, I gave them all the day off. Don't want anyone else to have the honor of killing Blade, the bogeyman of the vampires."
We start circling each other.
"What makes you think you'll be getting that honor?"
"Oh, come now. All the vampires are talking about it. They say you've lost your edge. No pun intended. Everyone's got their own theory. Some say losing all your allies dispirited you. But you know what I think?"
He waits for a response. Doesn't get any. So he continues.
"Vampires are built for immortality. We only get stronger as we get older. Humans, on the other hand, get weaker. My theory is...your human side used to be your greatest strength. It immunized you from all of our vulnerabilities. Now, however, it has become your greatest weakness."
He waits for a reaction.
I laugh.
He is visibly insulted.
"That the best you can do?" I ask. "I got the dhampir equivalent of menopause? Like I'm goin' through midlife crisis?"
I laugh again.
"You know what I think?" I ask him back.
"What?"
I swiftly cleave his entire right arm off his body with my machete!
"You talk too much," I answer.
He falls to his knees, and screams in shock, as blood erupts from the laceration. His severed arm flops to the ground, saber still in hand.
I walk over to him. Still screaming, he stares up at me with wide, teary eyes. I unceremoniously lop his head off.
#
I don't know what's wrong with me. IF there's anything wrong with me, that is. I mean I did make quick work of Mendoza back there. Nice haul, too. Just me and my sticky fingaz in an unguarded museum. Getting back to the point, maybe my human side IS becoming a weakness. Or maybe I am gettin' old, or dispirited, or starved.
Whatever it is, I am never gonna stop fighting. Even if I do have to fight it alone. Even if it is a losing war. Because I am still the bogeyman! I am still the Daywalker! I am-!
"Baluuut?!"
"Goddammit, you little shit-!" then I pause. "Hang on a moment. Lemme try one o' them eggs."
She hands me one, and I pay her for it. I crack the top open, drink the egg white. Then I peel off the shell, and take a bite.
"This 'aint bad," I tell her honestly.
The little girl gives me a warm smile. Yeah, havin' a human side 'aint so bad, either.
END
