Blades Against Fangs

"Ahhh!" the last man screamed before collapsing to the ground.

John surveyed the fallen bodies scattered across the warehouse floor. It was supposed to be just another night of practice, but things had escalated quickly.

Without wasting time, he turned and started walking toward the exit.

As he entered a dimly lit alley, his senses suddenly screamed a warning. Reacting instantly, John spun around and threw a punch with calculated precision. His fist connected with a man's chest, sending him flying back and crashing to the ground.

John didn't lower his guard. His stance remained firm, eyes sharp. He knew the man wasn't done.

Sure enough, the figure rose to his feet, brushing off his jacket as though nothing had happened. "It's been a while since I've felt pain," the man said, his tone almost amused.

John's eyes narrowed as he studied the stranger. At first glance, he seemed ordinary—too ordinary. But there was something off, something John couldn't ignore.

Then he noticed the man's teeth—sharp, elongated canines that glinted unnaturally in the faint light. Recognition clicked in John's mind.

"Vampire," he muttered under his breath.

The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smile widening. "Oh, so you know about us," he said, his tone laced with curiosity. "Interesting."

John remained silent, his body tense and ready. This wasn't going to be an ordinary fight. His mind raced through possibilities, calculating his next move.

The vampire chuckled, taking a slow step forward. "This night just got a lot more fun."

John's eyes stayed locked on him, his hand instinctively brushing against his jacket, where a hidden weapon lay waiting. He didn't come prepared for this fight, but he wasn't about to back down either.

John tightened his grip on the kunai in both hands, his stance solid and prepared. The vampire's smirk grew wider as he watched John.

"So, you want me to make the first move?" the vampire sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. Without warning, he leaped forward, his fangs bared, aiming to tear into John's face.

John reacted instantly, raising the kunai to block the attack. The clash was sharp, steel meeting flesh as the vampire's fangs scraped against the blade. Twisting his body to evade, John sidestepped and slashed at the creature's neck in a fluid motion.

The vampire staggered back for a moment, touching his neck where the blade had grazed him. He glanced at his bloodied fingers, his expression darkening. "You're going to regret that," he growled, his tone filled with menace.

With a burst of speed, the vampire launched into a flurry of attacks, moving so fast he seemed like a blur. He lunged with his fangs, threw wild kicks, and leapt off walls to disorient John. Each movement was feral, relentless.

But John was calm, focused. He didn't let the vampire's ferocity rattle him. Instead, he read the movements, parried each attack, and countered with precision. His kunai slashed and jabbed, forcing the vampire back with every exchange.

As the fight wore on, John's movements became more fluid, more refined. He adapted to the vampire's speed, predicting his attacks and responding with sharp, decisive strikes.

The vampire growled, frustration boiling over. "How are you keeping up?" he spat, his eyes wild.

John didn't answer. He didn't need to. This wasn't a fight—it was an assessment. John had been watching, dissecting every move, cataloging weaknesses. Now, he was ready to end it.

He stepped back, reaching into his magical pouch. The vampire's eyes narrowed as John drew a gleaming sword.

"You know you can't kill me," the vampire said, his voice dripping with smug confidence. "Unless that's silver, you're just wasting your time. And with hours till sunrise, you're at a disadvantage."

John said nothing. He charged forward.

The vampire sneered and reached out, intending to catch the blade barehanded. But the moment his fingers met the edge, the sword sliced clean through. Severed fingers dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

The vampire howled in agony, stumbling back. "Aagh! What is that blade?" His wide eyes darted between his maimed hand and the blood-stained weapon. He didn't know it is used to kill creature afraid of sunlight.

The vampire's grin was gone. Fear replaced arrogance as John closed the distance. The fight was no longer even. It was over.

Somewhere Else

A woman in a red dress sat in a dark, luxurious room, sipping from a glass filled with crimson liquid. Her sharp eyes gleamed as she spoke.

"Victor is late," she said softly, a smirk on her lips. "He must be having fun tonight."

A man seated across from her shrugged. "He was supposed to be here an hour ago."

The woman frowned slightly but said nothing. Just then, a phone rang, cutting through the quiet tension. The man answered quickly, his face hardening as he listened. When he hung up, his voice was grim.

"Victor is dead."

The room grew silent. The woman's expression darkened. "How? I thought the Daywalker was out of the city."

"He is," the man replied. "I heard he's after some group in Texas. This wasn't him."

Another vampire in the corner spoke, his tone cautious. "Then who killed Victor?"

The man hesitated before speaking. "Victor's fangs... and his teeth are gone. Someone took them."

The woman's grip tightened on her glass until it cracked, blood-red liquid spilling over her fingers. Her voice was cold as ice.

"Whoever did this will pay. Find them."