|1|~Slaughtered Sunday~

Unedited.

Biggs POV.

I'm the bad guy.

I have my parents to thank for that. Some shit is unavoidable, especially when you come for where I come from or when you see what I have seen.

When you grow up like I have you tend to become all sorts of fucked up, it is what it is. That's life.

No one's life is peachy and squeaky fucking clean. No one's! No matter, what people like to present to people on the outside looking in.

Trust me! Don't you ever believe the hype!

I'm a realist and I've been around long enough to know that any living soul is capable of causing destruction. Most individuals of the species carry toxic traits.

Most people tend to place their selves before others and the ones who don't are capable of doing the same thing. The world that we live in is fucked up and so are the people that live in it. It's been that way for as long as I could remember it, even before slaughter Sunday. That's what my people like to call it.

The awakening occurred on the exact date of May 3, 2081. That was the day that the shadows cast by the moon fully blocked the brightness of the sun if you ask a human.

If you ask a werewolf, it was the mysterious Luna-passing- day (in my ghost voice,)

Woo! woo! Fucking, weird-ass fucks.

Those puppies and their superstition bullshit. Both of those species have always been extremely overdramatic, I'll tell you. It was a solar eclipse, people. I repeat a solar eclipse. Big fucking deal.

Anyway, on the bloody Slaughter Sunday, the bloodsuckers took over the world, popping up out of nowhere like the zombies used to do in those horrible zombie apocalypse television shows and movies that the human used to love.

I was a walking dead fan by the way!

Now, back to what I was saying the major cities were the first to fall, followed by everything else in between. The human military stood no chance, even with us hunters coming to their aid. We stood no chance either. We were slaughtered, like sheep, and cows were slaughtered at the pile.

They demolished us. Those bloodsuckers had a field day with sinking their fangs into any and everybody's skin, ripping out hearts, and snatching off heads.

It was a real massacre. Bloody! That's why we call it Slaughtered Sunday, bodies were dropping like flies. Those mother fucking bloodsuckers totally butchered us and that was just on the first day.

On the second day, a national broadcast filmed the human world leaders being tortured and drained of their blood, one by one. Now, I'll be lying if I said that wasn't funny. That shit right there cracked me the fuck up. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was trying to get the hell of dodge when the live broadcast was being displayed for the world to see. The bloodsuckers' golden sons tortured those ass holes for hours and then finally ended them with a swift rip of their heads.

I remember shouting at fist-pumping while screaming off with their heads. That shit was epic.

That was the first and only time that I've ever agreed with the vampire's actions. I hated those rich bastards with a burning passion. So, fuck them! In my eyes, justice was served.

Anyway, the slaughter of almost the entire world and the public massacre of the human world leaders was just the beginning. Then, came along the new world order! Each continent was claimed by a vampire king, all of those declarations and rules of human society were dead. The werewolf's way of life was dead and their weird ass supposed to be saviors the Lycans, didn't give a fuck. The witches didn't give a shit either.

"Its fate," they said. "We don't intervene with fate," they said. Yeah, fucking right! Those privileged fucking pussies! Fuck, I hate them too, and their distant cousins the gypsy who no one knows what happened to by the way.

It was so disappointing and us hunters. Oh, us hunters were the greatest disappointment of them all. We got our asses hammered. They beat the crap out of us and disposed of the majority of my species. Any hunter, who fought back was either captured or killed. Some of us, like myself, were lucky and managed to slip away.

Now of course I fought back. The daughter of a hitter is no coward, and I almost was disposed of to, but I was actually saved. My father decided to finally be a father and rescued my ass. He gave his life in exchange for mine as he should.

Fuck! That's all he ever did besides give me a black eye, busted lip, and a few purple bruises. Oh, he taught me how to shoot and how to take a bullet. I swear that man has shot me over fifty times. He really was a sick and sadistic piece of shit. I've never mourned his death and never will.

In fact, I'm glad that he's gone.

Next topic, I managed to escape my homeland, Egypt, and settle down in a small town by the name of Bonito in the oh so lovely country of Brazil. It's pretty cool here, by the way, especially considering the fact that I lived alongside other surviving members of my species.

This is where I met my gang. Speaking of which, my gang is better than everybody's gang. We are literally the shit.

Every other hunter gang wants to be us or go hunting with us. I mean we are all the surviving descendants of hunter legends. Our family names alone make us hunter royalty, but our skills were the token to pave the way for our hunter status. No one fucks with us, period.

We are the best of the best, always have been, and always will be. When it comes to hunting those bloodsuckers and saving those pathetic ass humans, we get the job done.

My set parties like rock stars, meaning we blow shit up. The vampire King of this continent hates our guts and guess what? No one gives a fuck. Plus, he can't touch us.

In fact, he doesn't even really know who we are but that's a story for another day.

Just know this, we hate his guts as well and that's exactly why we are going to North America to go save my half-brother bitch ass and finally claim that fucking continent.

My moron of a half-brother made some bullshit alliance with the werewolves that we shall take advantage of. Many of our people have been traveling to the North Kingdom to join the war.

The leader of our group was hesitant to fight alongside puppies and so was I.

Forrest may be my brother by blood, but I don't owe him shit. Blood doesn't make a person's family, loyalty does, and that sake of wine isn't loyal to anyone but himself. The bloodsuckers captured him almost a century ago. Anyway, that doesn't matter. My gang has decided to participate, so I'm down to get down.

One fight we all fight! That's our motto.

Those bloodsuckers are going down, baby and that's a promise.

"What are you doing," questions Hoax Hunter fine ass, from behind me. He's our real gang leader but only other hunters know that. Although, I strongly believe that he shouldn't be.

The others on the other hand disagree with me for many reasons, most importantly because of who's he related to. His mother is Mercedes Hunter who happens to be the half-sister of the legendary Maddox Hunter. So other hunter tends to treat Hoax like's he's royalty. Well, I'm here to tell you that the only thing royal about him is how he royally well he slang's his dick.

In other words, Hoax is no royal. He's powerful sure, but he is not his uncle.

Now, Maddox Hunter, on the other hand, deserves the title of a royal. He was one hell of a hunter and so was his daughter Madelyn Hunter. They were true-born huntress, which means they were half bloodsucker and half hunter. My father was Big Banks, who happened to be one of Maddox Hunter, good pals.

My people called my father the hitter, or more like the hunter Hitler, which is funny as hell when you sit down and think about it.

Sure, he was a hitter. The best hitter in the entire world, especially when my face was the punching bag. Fucking bitch! Anyway, I've lived long enough to see the legendary hunters in action, and I can truly say that they were a force to be reckoned with, but at the end of the day, both of them died. So, I guess they really weren't that powerful after all when you think about it.

Hoax disagrees. In his eyes, his family is considered to be the holy fucking grail. He's also a cocky little bitch but he uses to be my cocky little bitch. Well, he's my leader who penis I use to ride from time to time.

It's really no biggies. Hoax gets around and so does Harley, who happens to be his inamorata. They truly do belong together. They are the only hunter pair that I know, who not only have an open relationship but also has an open invitation for anyone to climb inside of the bed with them.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I reply while burying my fist into the punching bag. I am currently in our training room doing the obvious, training. I'm always training.

"You're leaving tomorrow, Big's," whisper Hoax while wrapping his arms around my waist. He then buries his nostrils into my neck and take a deep whiff. "Fuck, you smell good," he whispers.

"You don't smell too bad yourself," I tell him while turning around to face him, and then wrapping my arms around his neck. Fuck, he's so hot and ready. Plus, he smells delicious.

Hoax is one hell of a hunter in the look departments with his electrifying soulless black and pure white transparent eyes. Not to mention, the fact that he's all muscle and man. His body is marked up like the subway in Harlem, just to indicate how manly he is.

Markings on a hunter's body tell the story of our strength. He has many! Hoax has more markings than most hunters, but my favorite ones are the ones on his face, especially the little cross that sits underneath his left eye. Yes! Hoax Baby, bless me!

I crash my lips down onto his soft heart-shaped lips and then slide my tongue into his mouth, just so I can tangle with his cherry-tasting tongue. "Fuck, Hoax baby," I moan into his mouth. He tastes so fucking good.

"You like that," he moans back while pushing his now harden cock closer into my sex. "Let me have you one last time, Beretta," he moans louder. "Let me fuck your pretty little brains out,"

I deepen our kiss and slide my tongue deeper down his throat, deep throating his mouth instead of his big ass dick, like I really want to. Fuck. I really, really want him.

I want to pull down his biker jeans. Next, I want to snatch off his fitted and crisp white V-neck. Then, I want to run my hands all over his colorful marked up chest and finally rest my hands inside of his pants just to play with his hard pierced up cock.

"Let me have you," he whispers again. Oh, baby! It's tempting. Very, tempting. "Come on baby, let me make you cum. You know I'm good for it," he swears while running his savor tongue over the top of my bottom lip.

"That you are," I admit. "You really do know how to make a girl cum. You have a gift," I admit again. He really does.

"So, take my present," he replies and then runs his long and savory tongue down the side of my face. You know that I could always make you accept my gift if I really wanted to," he seductively whispers.

Whelp! He has me there, thanks to his leadership. Our gang is basically Hoax soldiers. He is our first in command. In order to be accepted into this game, we have to take a pledge that involves a creepy little ritual. Blood in and blood out, if Hoax would command me to take my clothes off and hop on his dick, even if I didn't want to, I won't be able to disobey his command. It's like that with every gang.

It takes a really strong hunter to disobey a direct order from their leader and I only know one who has actually done it. He's a loner now.

I slide my hands into his pants and then cup his jingle bells. "You don't have the balls," I whisper back while biting down onto his earlobe, literally," I tell as I squeeze his perfectly round ball sack. Oh, fuck! That was a fat face lie. Hoax most certainly has ball, big and juicy balls.

"Now that is a lie, Bigg's," He calls me out. "If you're not going to let me fuck you at least let me taste you," he continues and almost begs.

This has been our usual for the last past month. Ever since he claimed his inamorata, I'll tease.

He begs. But that's it. He had his chance to enter the cookie jar, but I'll never allow him another easy chance to dunk his balls into my milk. We're over. He didn't know what to do with it.

"You're claimed, Hoax baby,"

"So, fuck that bitch. She can join us," he tells me, now standing directly in front of me. He's so tall he towers over me as I said once, and I'll say it again. Hoax is all man.

"Is that right," question a soft but seductive voice from behind us. Both of us turn to face her. It's Harley. Hoax Inamorata.

She's standing in the middle of the door frame staring at the scene in front of her with a wicked stare.

Oh, Fuck!