Chapter Text
Rule number one of the Frog Brothers’ vampire hunting code: never go alone. This rule was the absolute furthest thing from Edgar’s mind as he rounded the corner into a dead-end alley, eyes fixed on the completely sober man that was starting to get a little too close to a very drunk girl. For a moment, Edgar paused. His intuition was usually right about this kind of thing, but he did not want to see what would happen if this guy turned out not to be a vampire and Edgar happened to stake a regular dude. He reasoned, however, that whatever this guy’s intentions were they were a far cry from innocent.
When they had killed Max’s coven, Edgar and Alan had assumed life in Santa Carla would go back to normal. Well, as normal as Santa Clara gets. The missing posters would fade away, the music scene would be shitty again, and the Frogs would have to find a new hobby. This assumption went out the window within three months of the supposed “normalcy” in the Frogs lives. Edgar and Alan had returned to school with Sam and Michael, Lucy had bought VideoMax and was running the store by herself, and even Star had gotten herself a job waitressing. Edgar assumed she and Michael were still together if Sam’s complaints of their, by Edgar’s judgement very mild, PDA were anything to go by. For that short time, life was normal, and they were happy.
Then the missing posters returned.
It was just one or two at first. Unusual, sure, but Santa Carla wasn’t exactly known for the safety of its streets. Edgar and Alan made a note of it, but they didn’t share their concerns beyond each other, unsure of Sam’s feelings about the whole ordeal with his brother now that it had passed. It was just a few disappearances, nowhere near enough to earn the murder capital of the world title Santa Carla had once held. But as time went on, the missing posters grew in number.
The Frogs were not stupid. They knew what had to be done. After all, assuming the pack of vampires they had killed were the only ones was gratuitously optimistic, so Edgar and Alan agreed they would do their part to clean up the streets of Santa Carla. By day, they went to school and read comics with Sam like normal teenagers would, but at night, they killed vampires.
Edgar was used to these kinds of boardwalk patrols. After almost two full years of protecting Santa Carla, he knew how to spot a bloodsucker a mile away, he knew how to take one down with the help of his brother. The two of them could kill a vampire together without ever saying a word. Sam was convinced they had telepathy. They didn't, but the two brothers knew each other so well that they could complete carry conversations with their eyes alone. Edgar felt a pang of guilt in his chest. This time, he had gone against the Frog code. Edgar was on his own.
Edgar clung to the shadows, waiting for just the right moment to strike. He pulled out his stake and readied himself. Edgar trusted Alan with his life, obviously. That’s not why he had left without Alan. Lately Edgar had this growing fear that if someday he were to find himself without Alan, he wouldn’t be able to hold his own. A reasonable fear given their work. Escaping with your life was never a sure thing, and while they had been extremely lucky that neither of them had ever been injured enough to pull them out of a fight, luck was all that was. They had been lucky that they didn’t need to fight alone. One day they wouldn’t be. Tonight was a good a night as any to prepare for that. Tonight, Edgar was going to prove himself.
Edgar watched as the vampires fangs descended, ready to bite into its practically incapacitated meal. Edgar took a steadying breath and charged forward, stake at the ready, just as he had so many times before.
The vampire looked up, not exactly surprised by Edgars presence, but more caught off guard that Edgar had the nerve to charge at him before he indulged himself. The thought made Edgar sick. The vampire dropped his victim- now practically a deadweight- onto the concrete just in time to catch Edgar’s arm before he got the chance to land a hit.
Edgar froze, eyes wide and frantic, unsure of what to do. Usually Alan would take the back and stake the vamp that way-an easy kill-but there was no Alan this time. Edgar mentally kicked himself for thinking he could use the same tactics alone. The vampire sneered at his fear, beginning to lift himself and Edgar off the ground. Edgar shook himself out of his stupor and his panic was replaced with determination. His brief lapse was forgotten as his other arm reached to grab another stake out of his belt. He could still do this. He had to.
Edgar spared a glance down and felt sick. They were way too high. If he staked the vampire right there, Edgar would probably fall to his death, and at his ripe age of sixteen, that idea did not seem hugely appealing at that moment. So he did the next best thing, which was injure the vampire with intent to disorient. Edgar began to swing wildly at the vampire. The bloodsucker cried out as Edgar slashed its arms and face.
Before Edgar could process what was happening, he was overwhelmed by a sudden loss of air. He couldn’t breathe. What was more, he could feel a bitter metallic liquid on his tongue. Edgar gagged. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He kicked and squirmed in the vampires grasp. He would rather fall to his death than be doomed to the fate of those he sought to kill. The vampire smirked at him, relishing in his struggle.
In a split second, Edgars body made the choice to swallow without consulting his brain. Sheer luck landed his next frantic swing right into the vampires heart. He couldn’t hear the scream over the ringing in his ears. It smoked and crumbled to ash as Edgar plummeted down to the bright Santa Carla boardwalk.
He landed in a heap on the cold ground. Alive.
The implications of that simple fact were enough for Edgars eyes to well up with tears. That, and the intense pain that came from falling nearly fifty feet out of the sky. But Edgar’s mind was far away from the pain in his body, all too focused on the turmoil in his head. His mind was reeling. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think straight. This was so much worse than anything he had expected tonight.
He had swallowed blood. He, Edgar Frog, vampire hunter, had been turned.
Edgar curled into himself and began to cry.