Morgaine ‘The Angel of Death’ Blackthorn

Morgaine ‘The Angel of Death’ Blackthorn

The figure hunched and lying over the bar table wasn’t very fearsome looking. In fact, since his face was covered, the teen aged black haired male actually looked quite handsome. But even though all these factors came into play, no one would sit near him, no one would speak to him, no one would even dare to SIT by him.
His usual drink, which he had fondly named ‘the coffin special’ sat untouched in front of him. He had but to gesture and the cowering bartender would place yet another full glass in front of him, neither speaking to him nor making a sound. It was because, in this once full and thriving town, everyone was afraid of him.

Boring, Boring, BORING.

Numbly, Morgaine lifted his head from the bar and yawned. As he yawned his shining elongated canines glimmered in the dim light of the room, and a slight smile curved across his features as he took in the customer’s collective shudders of fright.
This was the usual response and though it grew a bit staler each time, it still provided him with the inspiration to keep going. After all, if you’ve already slaughtered half the population of a town, why leave the job unfinished on your anniversary visit?
Tipping the glass to his open mouth, he delicately sipped the crimson drink from his cup, down to the very last drop. He licked his lips clean of the remaining liquid with his pierced red tongue, which was at a strange contrast to his pale white skin. As he finished, he set the glass down with a thunk and stood up. His boots made a soft clunking against the polished wood floor, and as he reached the swinging bar doors the crowd milling about sighed in relief.
He stopped.
Abruptly, he turned around with a manic grin painted on his sleek face.
“I could leave..” He whispered to the frozen crowd before him, who were immobilized in fear. He slid his tongue along his razor sharp fangs, careful not to cut himself, and reached to pull his sleek silver shotgun from its sling-like holster. A small insane giggle bubbled from his lips. “ But what fun would THAT be?”
The room turned to chaos in a split second. Chairs were upturned, tables were tipped, and glasses were flung all over the room, shattering instantly on impact with the things they hit. Morgaine’s insane hysteric laughter spiraled around the bar and as he raised his gun and prepared to slaughter the whole crowd, all tension blasted to a climax.
But unexpectedly, all turned still and silent.
Morgaine’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he stopped laughing as the hand around his neck tightened. He couldn’t turn, because the attacker was behind him, and he cursed himself mentally as he lowered his shotgun.

“Now, that wasn’t very gentlemanly, was it?” The man behind him let go, and Morgaine turned to face him. The crowd had fled from the bar when the brawl had been stalled, so his assailant was the only one left in the room. Morgaine looked him over distastefully.
The man had spiked messy light brown hair with a stubbly beard to match, and he seemed to project an aura of chaos and off the wall hero quality insanity. He moved forward and a seemingly spotless white shirt was visible underneath his black leather jacket. As he leaned over to come face to face with Morgaine he brushed some dirt off his boots and his pinstriped pants, and finally sneered audaciously at him.
Morgaine’s lips curled. To be caught by this idiot, this buffoon was horribly annoying to him.

“So, half-breed, I finally caught you.” The man’s dark bronze eyes sparkled with the glee of a hunter observing his prey’s last breaths. “After all those years of killing and never getting caught, it must be a little appalling to know someone’s on your trail now.”
He smirked as Morgaine’s eyes widened a little more, then narrowed at him with a look of extreme hatred. “You’re wondering how I know about your little defect?” He shook his head and chuckled. “Its very rare meet a vampire and a demon who agree with each other these days, Morgaine.” The man’s knowing grin widened. “Let alone two who produce offspring like YOU.”

Swiftly, Morgaine whipped around snarling with anger but he was met once more with the choking grip of the man’s hand.

“How do you KNOW that?!” Morgaine spat, thrashing in the firm grip.

“Ah,” The man’s eyes sparkled and with his free hand, he tapped his forehead. “Mordekai Varnine knows many things.”

Morgaine’s eyes traveled down from Mordekai’s intense stare and saw the telltale claw mark scars on the man’s hands. Morgaine’s lips curved into a sneer.

“A bounty hunter?” Morgaine wrenched his neck from Mordekai’s grasp, like the hunter was merely a child. “You’re nothing but low-rate scum.” He raised a brow. “Mordekai was it?” A mocking grin replaced the questioning one. “Ah, yes, low-rate scum indeed.”

Mordekai’s expression changed from challenging to furious and he rushed and Morgaine, suddenly fused with adrenaline and ready to fight. The hunter’s hard kicks and punches were met by Morgaine’s strikes in a clash so fierce that the fight seemed almost like a deadly dance instead of a brawl.
Suddenly, Morgaine was at the advantage. He leapt forward with the grace of a swooping hawk and prepared to plunge his long fangs into Mordekai’s neck. His eyes searched for a hint of fear in the hunter’s face, but the man was standing calmly in front of him with a hand outstretched. Snarling, Morgaine laughed at the hunter’s foolishness.
However, his feelings of superiority were dashed as a bolt of lightening so huge that it was visible shot from his foe’s hand and surged through him. Morgaine soared through the air and was pushed from the impact of the bolt, until he smashed through various bottles of alcohol in a shelf and thudded to the hard floor behind the bar.

Mordekai’s laughter was audible from Morgaine’s spot of agony, and it was long and loud.
“You should never face your foe without first knowing his abilities, half-breed.” The hunter walked over, glass from windows, bottles and lights crunching under his brown cowboy boots, and peered down at Morgaine. “Didn’t your parents teach you that?” He smiled and held Morgaine’s gaze.
In a flash and a shriek of rage, Morgaine jumped up, and flipped his gun out of the holster, preparing to blow Mordekai’s all too knowing head from his shoulders. Yet when Mordekai grinned and sent a bolt through him, Morgaine disappeared. Blinking in alarm, the bounty hunter frowned and his eyes darted around the room franticly. “What the hell?” He whispered and turned around. “Well..that was easy.” Shrugging, the now carefree bounty hunter turned and started to walk out of the bar. The crowd from earlier thanked him and filtered back in and he shrugged off their thanks, as usual.
If he had just stayed in his spot a little longer and talked, the bullets probably would have missed. But unfortunately they didn’t.
White with surprise and spattered with his own blood, Mordekai thudded to his knees and the crowd screamed in terror as Morgaine appeared out of thin air, with his gun smoking. A cold smile was painted across the half vampire, half demon’s face.

“That was an illusion you fool.” He shook his head. “Really, and you said you were a professional.” He kicked Mordekai hard in the stomach and glanced around at the crowd. “Don’t think I haven’t’ forgotten about you.” His eyes glinted with hate. “I’ll be back to kill you all, soon.” Humming, he stooped down and lapped up some of the warm delicious blood spilling from Mordekai’s chest and sighed with content. “ ‘You should never face your foe without first knowing his abilities’.” Morgaine whispered into Mordekai’s ear. “As you choke on your own beautiful blood, I want you to choke on your words as well.”
Holstering his gun and wiping the blood off his pale lips, Morgaine smiled faintly. He rose from his kneeling position above the now drained body below him and gently brushed his long black bangs away from his dead ebony eyes.
He turned swiftly and gracefully away from the body, almost as if he was floating instead of walking, and tipped the horror filled crowd behind him a two-fingered salute.
As the parlor doors swung shut behind him, every person in the crowd swore that they saw wings made of deadly bones sprout from his back. In fact, people swore on their lives, that he flew away from the bar and into the night.

And as the crowd watched the specter of death float away into the night, the broken, blood soaked body of the bounty hunter stirred. He sat up, and winced as the bullets in his body were pushed out while the wounds healed almost miraculously.

“Enjoying rubbing defeat into opponent’s faces..” He grimaced and pushed himself up. “….Just another thing we have in common, half-breed.”

Then, Mordekai ‘The fallen archangel’ Varnine, turned and fled into the night, from the crowd who would soon realize that the bounty hunter they had paid had failed to do what they hired him for.