Night fell over Salt Blake like a velvet shroud.
Skyscrapers with modern gargoyles stood silent, their windows reflecting warped lights that flickered like hungry eyes. The wind carried the scent of gasoline, rain about to fall… and something darker. Something only monsters could recognize.
The alleys were open wounds, pulsing through the city's steel veins.
It was a city that didn't sleep—because it feared what it might dream of.
Salt Blake.
Where even sin seemed too afraid to walk alone.
At the heart of that concrete jungle stood The Red Moon Club, glowing beneath crimson neon signs that pulsed like living blood. Motorcycles rumbled outside, laughter and electronic music leaking through the walls.
But behind it…
Only silence.
A boy was running there—no more than seventeen. Panic twisted his face, sweat mingling with the drizzle that began to fall. His footsteps slipped across the wet pavement, breath ragged and desperate.
He looked back
And saw her.
A pale woman, eyes glowing crimson like burning coals. Fangs long, curved, hungry. Her black dress floated around her as if alive. Her voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"You shouldn't have run, sweet thing…"
The boy screamed
But the sound died in his throat.
The vampire lunged and a bullet whizzed past, shattering the wall beside her.
A second sound followed: the sharp click of a trigger being pulled again.
The vampire hissed, irritated.
"Who dares interrupt me?"
From atop an old shipping container, she stood like she owned the night.
Lucy.
Tight black pants, leather boots planted like anchors. A crimson coat whipped in the wind. The cropped top left part of her pale skin exposed — skin that had never lost the cold touch of night. Fingerless gloves wrapped her hands, and at the center of her chest, a ruby pendant pulsed faintly, as if it were alive.
Her black eyes held no fear. Only contempt.
"Really?" Lucy sighed, spinning her pistol on a finger before aiming it.
"Don't you think it's a little late for dinner?"
The vampire snarled, baring her fangs.
"You reek of cursed blood… what are you?"
Lucy smirked.
Arrogant. Sharp. Lethal.
"Someone who hates it when people skip the bill."
The creature leapt, feral and fast —
Lucy moved too.
A twist in midair, her coat spreading like the wings of a demon. She kicked the vampire across the face, slamming her into a pile of garbage. The boy stumbled backward, trembling, while Lucy landed softly, catlike.
The vampire rose, furious.
"I'll tear you apart!"
Too fast for human eyes.
Lucy drew her second pistol from her thigh holster and pulled the trigger.
The shot cracked through the rain.
The bullet pierced the vampire's forehead—
and the body collapsed, crumbling into ash that washed away with the drizzle.
Lucy twirled her pistol, holstered it, and didn't even glance at the remains.
"Problem solved."
She extended a hand to the terrified boy.
"Go home, kid. And next time, try not to follow a vampire into a dark alley just because she calls you 'cute.' Doesn't usually end well."
The boy stammered,
"T-thank y-you…"
But Lucy was already walking away, the sound of her boots echoing through the alley.
He watched her silhouette fade beneath the red neon glow of the nightclub—
as if she belonged to something greater than that city… greater than the night itself.
Salt Blake – Lucy's Office – 8:55 PM
The office was so run-down even the cockroaches looked like they were asking for a transfer. Flickering lights buzzed overhead. Old action and rock posters clung crookedly to the cracked walls. The door's nameplate was blank — no logo, no title. Just dust.
The bell above the door rang as Lucy entered, tossing her coat onto a chair. She unloaded her weapons with mechanical precision, as if she were part of the machine itself.
Her ancestral sword, the Dracslayer, rested across her back, strapped in special harnesses. She unbuckled it, exhaling as though releasing the weight of her entire life.
She stretched, groaning softly from the strain of combat.
"Needed a good fight… that one just tired me out."
She kicked off her boots, peeled off her cropped top, dropped her guns onto a cluttered desk, and stepped into the bathroom.
Steam filled the room as the shower hissed to life.
Water slid down toned muscles, over short messy red hair. Droplets traced her cold skin— cold because her heart no longer beat like a normal eighteen-year-old's.
She rubbed the back of her neck, staring at the fogged mirror.
And the question that always came back whispered in her mind:
"Who am I without the hunt?"
She closed her eyes, forcing the thought away, letting the steam drown her weakness.
Later, dressed in an oversized shirt and shorts, she collapsed onto the couch with a sigh.
Then came the click of the door lock.
"Yo, Redhead! Brought what you asked for!" a cheerful voice called.
Harrison walked in like he owned the place—a man in his thirties with a wrinkled suit, crooked tie, and the kind of grin that refused to die, even in a rotten world. He carried grocery bags.
"Toilet paper, pads —" he lifted a package "
— and donuts. Chocolate, because you're picky."
Lucy arched a brow at the pads.
"Seriously? How many times do I have to say I don't menstruate?"
"Wait, really? Then how do you—"
"Don't start." She cut him off, biting into a donut.
"Too much info, even for you."
He chuckled, setting the bags down.
"You still haven't named your office. You need branding, girl. I was thinking Lucy's Job, or maybe Kramer Monster Hunt, or —"
"Harrison."
"Yeah?"
"Shut up and hand me another donut. I'll think about the name later."
He handed it over, amused.
"I'm heading out. Good night, Lucy."
"Night, Agent Pain-in-the-Ass."
"You come up with the worst nicknames…" he laughed, closing the door.
Lucy kicked it shut and flopped back onto the couch, pulling out a worn Playboy from under the cushions.
"Best literature before bed."
Later, she turned on the TV. Cartoons flickered across the screen, trying to wash away darker memories.
Slowly… her eyes drifted closed.
And outside, Salt Blake kept breathing—
hungry, alive, devouring the world.
In the Next Morning, the weak sun hovered over Salt Blake like it pitied the city. Heavy clouds dimmed the light, making it seem like morning never fully arrived here.
Lucy's old rotary phone began to ring—a relic from the 80s that looked as tired as its owner.
"Ugh…" she groaned, hugging a pillow. "Who even calls this early?"
The ringing didn't stop.
She sat up, hair a red disaster, face creased from sleep. Reflexively grabbing her gun (almost shooting the phone), she finally picked up.
"If this isn't about pizza, hang up now."
"Good morning to you too, my favorite bloodsucker."
Harrison. Too cheerful for a place this dead.
Lucy rolled her eyes.
"Spit it out."
"New job. You'll like it. Good pay, good hunt… might even get you off that couch."
"I'm listening."
"Rich family. Kid kidnapped. Guess by who?"
Her black eyes lit up, fire flickering within.
"Monster?"
"Bingo. They want the boy back—alive and breathing."
"Minor detail… fine." She was already standing, fastening her black cropped top and clasping the pendant around her neck.
"Pick me up out front."
"Almost there. Don't shoot me when you see my tie."
"No promises."
10:27 AM – In Front of the Office
Harrison parked his beat-up car—clean but old. Lucy stepped out like the star of an endless action film: crimson coat fluttering, Dracslayer strapped to her back, pistols ready, face carved with "don't mess with me."
He smiled.
"You always look like you're about to kill someone."
"That's not just the look."
She hopped into the passenger seat, tossing her boots onto the dashboard.
"Case file." He handed her a folder while driving. "Kid's name: Billy Rothman, eight years old. Missing two days. Witnesses say a humanoid creature was seen—"
Lucy flipped through the photos. A smiling boy, now swallowed by the dark.
Her gaze hardened.
"Where?"
"Old mansion on the hill." Harrison pointed ahead.
Lucy closed the folder, taking a breath.
"Figures. Monsters love clichés."
11:52 AM – Hawthorne Mansion
The structure loomed like a corpse of stone and time. Gothic style, towering windows, walls scarred by age. Twisted trees surrounded the property like dead sentinels.
The gates creaked open with a groan.
Lucy stepped through, boots echoing, breathing in the heavy air of rot and old shadows.
"I go in. You babysit the car."
"I can handle myself," Harrison said, straightening his tie.
"But fine. I'll stay. Yell if—"
The door slammed shut before he finished.
He sighed.
"Kids these days… always so cocky."
Inside, the mansion breathed. Every floorboard moaned with intent. The air was cold enough to freeze even a vampire's veins.
Lucy drew her pistol.
"Billy?" she called, her voice echoing through the halls.
"If you're alive, this is the part where you answer."
Silence.
Then— Footsteps. Not hers.
Lucy spun, aiming her weapon.
Only shadows.
She moved forward, opening doors one by one. Dusty furniture loomed under white sheets like corpses waiting to wake. The scent of wet fur and blood grew stronger…
Until a massive wooden door creaked open on its own.
Lucy entered.
And saw him.
At the center of the grand hall, beside a long dining table that looked like an altar, stood a humanoid figure.
A wolf tall, over two meters, fur gray and thick, jaws powerful, eyes yellow and sharp. An elegant suit hung awkwardly over his beastly frame, as if he still believed he was part of humanity's nobility.
Behind him— the boy Billy, chained, trembling.
The wolf stepped forward with the grace of an old aristocrat.
"So… the rumors were true. The daughter of Ulisses."
His voice was deep, disturbingly calm.
"It's an honor to meet you, Lucy."
Lucy frowned.
"Okay, two things.
One, I'm not a therapist for traumatized dogs.
Two, how the hell do you know my name?"
The wolf smiled—a predator's smile.
"I hired you. I needed to see for myself if you're worthy of the legacy you carry… daughter of the legendary werewolf."
Her blood froze for a heartbeat.
"You kidnapped the kid just to test me?" she hissed, tightening her grip on the sword's hilt.
"No. I wanted to prove peace between species is a farce. You should be ruling what's left of humanity, not saving it."
"Cute speech," Lucy said, drawing Dracslayer in a gleaming arc.
"You know how this talk always ends?"
The wolf bared his fangs in a grin.
"In blood."
Lucy smiled, wild, fearless, beautiful in her madness. The fight began.
To be continued...