“They want you to take someone out.” Brolly says as he pours some whiskey into two cups.

“Who? Why?” Taylor asks, barely interested. He takes one of the glasses and gulps it down before moving it forward on the table for more.

Brolly sighs and pours Taylor another. “They'll explain the details later. Just wait for the call for now.” He explains.

“Then why'd you call?” Taylor asks, unsure of the situation.

“Can't a dude just call someone for a drink once in a while? Jeez.” Brolly says, looking offended. “The grunts in the gang aren't comfortable drinking with me. Family and a few others are my only options.” Brolly admits.

“Ah,” Taylor says, gulping another glass down. “I guess I don't have too many people to drink with either.” Taylor says, realizing something about himself.

“I guess we should do this more often.” Taylor suggests.

“Yeah. But you know; business.” Brolly says.

“Yeah,” Taylor agrees. “Business." He imitates.

…

…

Taylor was taking a shower when a shadowy figure appears outside of the glass enclosure.

Taylor senses the presence and became immediately on guard.

“Who are you?” He asks while rubbing his body with soap.

“I'll leave this folder out here for you.” The figure says. “Your target is a vampire. A Mountain Climber higher-up.” He continues to say.

“How high up?” Taylor asks, somewhat worried.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Too high for you, that's for sure.” The figure says.

“Too high for me? Then why ask?” Taylor asks. This was a weird request.

“We just want you to make the attempt.” The voice explains. “Use whatever means you have to. But I suggest not getting close. You'll most likely die if that's the case.” He says without a care before his figure dissolves into nothing.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims, confused.

…

…

Taylor sits on the couch and opens the folder.

Hanz Riverman. Pictures. Handsome dude. I'd bang him. Vampire Prince. What the fuck is that? Extremely dangerous, yada yada. Holy fuck this guy really is dangerous. Practically indestructible body. Super strength. Extremely high magical abilities. Fuck, I'm not this dude's match. Why are they asking me to do this? Taylor thinks to himself. He was worried. Very worried. He felt like he was being thrown into the lion's den.

“Why the fuck would I even try this?” Taylor asks out loud.

“Because we'll kill you if you don't.” A voice says from inside the room.

“Fuckin' vampires. Get out of my house. I'll make one shot but that's it.” Taylor forces himself to say. “And you know what. I'm going to miss too.” He says before grabbing a pack of smokes and going outside.

…

…

***BOOM***

“Awesome. Missed.” Taylor says with a smile.

He moves to pack the sniper away before he looks to his side. His eyes connect with the target.

“Fuck. He saw me.” Taylor says, some sweat dripping down his head. “There's no way he'll catch me.” Taylor says, attempting to comfort himself. Taylor looks over and the target's figure turns into a shadow that began to fly in the air.

“Fuck!” Taylor exclaims, throwing the sniper aside and running to the otherside of the rooftop.

He drops from the edge and catches a balcony boundary before continuing to drop to other balconies.

After he was four floors above ground level he drops and takes the landing without a roll, forcing his legs to bear the weight.

“Fuck, that hurts so much.” Taylor says through gritted teeth. “Run. Gotta run.” Taylor says in an anxious voice.

Nowhere to run. And he's faster than me. I'm going to die here today. Taylor realizes.

His gaze drops to a sewer hole on the road. He hesitates for a moment, as any regular person would before this thought would cross their mind.

“Ah, fuck it.” Taylor says before quickly running over, ignoring the cars that wanted to pass by. He removes the sewer cover and climbs down before putting the cover back.

Taylor climbs all the way down, bearing the overwhelming stench. “Fuckin' smells so bad down here.” Taylor says before regretting it. The stinky miasma found its way to his mouth. He was able to taste whatever he was smelling.

“Fuck.” Taylor exclaims before looking down at his pants. “Am I getting a boner? What the fuck.” Taylor says before ignoring it and continuing to climb down.

Taylor finds the ground and tries to listen for anything that could be happening up there.

“That's where you belong. Filthy sewer rat.” A voice calls out from above.

Taylor’s face became flooded with sweat. The voice made him feel an instinctive fear, like he was a rabbit facing an apex predator. His legs began to quiver but he didn't dare to say anything. He didn't even dare to run. He just stood there and awaited his fate.

A minute passes by. And then five minutes. Ten minutes. Before long a half hour passes.

Should I go up there? Taylor wonders before attempting to move his legs. But he couldn't. They were rooted to the ground. His body didn't trust itself to move forward.

So Taylor continues to wait. An hour passes. Then two hours. He loses track of time before he recovers some feeling in his legs.

“Finally,” Taylor says with a sigh, not caring about the stench any longer.

Taylor climbs up the sewer hole and removes the cover. It was late into the night and no cars were around.

Taylor began to walk. Defeat and shame washes over him. He lost more than a fight today. He lost his pride.