Chapter Text
The piercing scent of iron permeated through every possible surface and seeped in the damp alley walls. A dull ray of moonlight illuminated where the target once stood, now replaced by a deep crimson splash and signs of a recent struggle. Even the air that surrounded the shadowed figures cloaked in now-ruined uniforms felt humid and choking, threatening to suck the very life out of their exhausted bodies.
The sharp click of a tongue suddenly reverberated through the narrow space.
“Abhorrent and useless, you recruits!”
Sandrone leaned on the shoddy stone wall and propped herself up with her elbow. She hadn’t witnessed performance this terrible since she was a grunt, and even those imbeciles of which she was required to call ‘peers’ would be flaunted as geniuses compared to the batch she was assigned for tonight. It was no exaggeration that this little slip-up could morph into a problem far beyond their initial scope in the near future.
“How in the world did you lot manage to let this one get away?! He was right there!” Sandrone let her voice transform to a snarl, something she reserved for only the most atrocious, horrendous, and idiotic teams. That was, of course, the vast majority of them.
Even better, she herself had gotten injured in the ensued skirmish. Simply brilliant. Why not make her vampire bait at that point?
The group of Hunters appeared to have lost all function in their limbs, as none of them lifted a finger. They shot each other ridiculous looks, some pleading for forgiveness, some lost in confusion, and most in guilt. For a long moment, no sound was made from the team of supposed professionals that usually prided themselves in their renowned teamwork and communication skills. It was baffling to witness for Sandrone, who had thousands upon thousands of hours in missions alone.
“Tsk, whatever. Go home, all of you! I expect you to be at the weapons grounds at twenty-two-hundred tomorrow, sharp. If I see any of you a nanosecond late, I’ll personally throw you directly in a pack of frenzied vampires!”
Sandrone didn’t wait for a response. She whipped her head away from the sorry looks plastered all over the young recruits’ faces and stomped away in a huff. She knew it looked a little ridiculous, but to the recruits, they wouldn’t forget her short outburst of anger for the rest of their lives.
That was her strength. She didn’t feel any particular attachment to the recruits, nor did she offer them any forgiveness. Joining the Hunter Bureau was an occupation only for the strong and determined — it chased away those that sought attention or fame like a pack of hungry wolves. She had no more mercy to give after all the hardships she endured while in training, all the blood lost and spilled no longer haunted her. It wasn’t difficult to threaten new recruits; she usually gave them the choice between living out the rest of their lives comfortably or being mauled to a bloody pulp by the same bounties they were dispatched to eliminate.
Sandrone had managed to prevent her hat from flying off this time — it had a near guaranteed chance of being snatched off her head like it was some sort of precious trophy to the targets. If she had believed in superstitions or ghost stories, then it would most certainly be a curse placed on her by the damned souls of all those vampires she’d brought the heads of. It wasn’t a very outlandish thought. What sort of decent human being hunted vampire bounties for a living?
She listened to the soles of her boots thud against the uneven cobble pathway and retraced the route she took from the main road. It was a dreary view, a jumbled mess of wooden and stone buildings in rows that looked a light breeze away from collapsing entirely. The moon was waxing for tonight, its glowing crescent shape all-too-familiar to Sandrone’s tired — albeit furious — mind. Despite it being the dead of night, there were the embers of fire-lit lanterns still wavering on the windowsills of some houses.
The common people had recently gained a strange fascination with watching the Hunters go about their duties, most likely due to the local press releasing more frivolous issues that focused on the Bureau. It had attracted many pseudo-journalists to the office, all of which Sandrone had to yell at them to ‘get lost!’ She was then noted to be the most unapproachable and hostile Harbinger in the entirety of the Hunter Bureau despite her smaller stature.
Well, whatever. People don’t join the Hunters to socialise anyways.
The front reception booth stuck out like a sore thumb against the less-than-pleasing backdrop that consisted of rickety shops and houses. While those buildings appeared to be decomposing as they stood, the Bureau’s booth was nearly spotless with its polished wooden counter and crimson coloured velvet curtains draped overhead. The Hunters’ symbol, a giant silver bat wing adorned with glowing red rubies, hung above the booth’s opening. Shockingly — and annoyingly enough, even the constant threat of patrolling Hunters wasn’t enough to scare off the pain-in-the-rear that loitered near the entrance every night.
“Ah, Miss Sandrone! I must have missed your initial appearance earlier tonight, how good it is to see you again!”
Meticulously styled silver hair that seemed to absorb all light, a lyre in hand, and dressed like she had just stumbled out of a rowdy tavern with a handful of gifted sweets. Just fantastic. How could her night get even worse?
“Shut it, Furina. I’m not here to listen to your theatrics again,” Sandrone spat out with a glare.
“Oh, is today some sort of special occasion? You even referred to me by my name!”
Furina cracked a wide grin, unintentionally flashing her fangs directly at Sandrone.
“Don’t do that again, or I’m arresting you on the spot!”
Sandrone pushed her away and opted to lean on the reception booth’s counter. She let out a hefty sigh and rubbed the creases out of her brow, or at least attempted to. She would never get those creases out for the rest of time.
As infuriating as everyone was tonight, there was one place of refuge she was always pleased to return to. She knew that as long as that irritating vampire Furina stalked the front entrance, the booth would be manned by the only other person that tolerated the two of them in the same place.
“Sandrone. An unsuccessful night, hm?” Arlecchino said with the light tone she usually reserved for the younger recruits.
“I don’t need your pity, Knave. Just get me a glass of water or something,” Sandrone sighed.
Arlecchino simply chuckled and retreated to the booth’s corners to fill a glass. Sandrone listened to the refreshing sound of water clinking against the Bureau’s thick glasses and propped her chin up on her free hand. She sometimes wondered about Arlecchino’s sanity and how she was capable of staying around Furina for more than three minutes. She had this consistent air of mystery and refinement, like she could discuss her way out of any confrontation. Sandrone wouldn’t be surprised if Arlecchino managed to de-frenzify their targets using her words alone.
She wouldn’t, though. No self-respecting Harbinger would leave a single trace of their targets left in the mortal coil. Arlecchino was especially skilled in that aspect, as she could simply eviscerate any and all flesh with a single touch.
She was easy to tell apart from the other Harbingers and Hunters. The uniform she modified was quite sharp and eye-catching, in Sandrone’s opinion. It was simple and consisted of the standard-issued cream coloured collared shirt — although unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up on the sleeves, black trousers, and the tightly laced black leather boots every Hunter was required to wear. What differed was the deep crimson red vest adorned with the silver Hunter diamond motifs she wore over her shirt.
If Arlecchino was anyone but a Harbinger, her coat placement would be nothing short of blasphemous. It was draped over her left shoulder like how a carpenter would place a rag after a long day’s worth of grueling work. The coat’s appearance was vastly different from standard issue, as it was something more akin to a trench coat compared to the cloak Sandrone usually wore. Her tie was shortened and red at the edges, somewhat loose and unkempt.
“Here is your glass of fresh Bureau water, Miss Sandrone.” Arlecchino cracked a rare smile, though quite small and unnoticeable.
“Oh, hush you,” Sandrone grinned in return.
She took a swig of the glass like it was a shot of Fire-Water and exhaled in relief. The moment would have been far more comforting if Furina wasn’t basically breathing down her neck.
“Move out of the way, vampire.”
“Back to no longer using my name? I’ll have you know my full name is ‘Furina de-”
“I don’t care! Get lost or something, you’re always loitering around these parts!”
Arlecchino was wordlessly wiping down unused glasses while staring directly at the two.
“Ahem! I am not loitering, it’s for a good purpose,” Furina proudly bellowed. She put her free hand on her hip and shot Sandrone a look that reeked of an actress’s stinking pride — which was a terrible amalgamation of smugness and minute disgust.
“And what oh-so-amazing purpose is it? Wasting our time, maybe?”
“Stalling for my brilliant vampire kin, obviously.”
Sandrone could feel her eyes rolling out of its sockets and chose to not spare the energy of a response. She had seen enough for tonight, especially with all those irresponsible, uneducated, and — most importantly — dim excuses of Hunter recruits who trailed her like a group of touch-starved shadows for the entire latter half of her shift. It was as if every living organism within several hundred kilometres of her had suddenly lost all intelligent processes solely to spite her. Arlecchino, with her ever reliable reputation, was naturally exempt from said judgements.
It was exactly why Sandrone was never delegated to trainee duty unless they were desperate. Trainee duty was a special kind of purgatory for misbehaving high-ranked Hunters anyways.
“Impressive, aren’t I? Under special supervision of two Bureau Harbingers, it’s almost like I was meant for the spotlight!” Furina twirled the loose thread on the edge of her cloak, her brows raised high in an exaggerated arrogance.
“Even so, with such a dangerous and powerful vampire in their midst, they are unable to capture the lucky fool’s egregious bounty… A true tragedy, is it not?”
Sandrone lifted the glass to her lips and chugged the rest of its contents, forcing herself to ignore Furina’s enraging advancements towards her temper.
“Miss Furina, there is no such bounty on your head.”
Arlecchino spoke calmly with a clean glass still held in her blackened hands. She maintained direct eye contact with the vampire, causing Furina to anxiously whip her head around before they could exceed four seconds of sacred eye-to-eye exchange.
“Indeed, there isn’t. I was merely jesting,” Furina shrugged.
“You should stick to acting in theatres and plays, Miss Furina. Broke down under no pressure whatsoever, huh?”
Sandrone smirked at Arlecchino, who had little to no reaction to her comment.
“Oh, whatever. Not feeling it, I guess.”
She pushed the glass back towards the booth and straightened her posture out. It was well before her usual clockout time, but it wouldn’t particularly hurt to have extra time for herself in the workshop. Without her, the Bureau’s stupid rusty hunks of steel that they classified as ‘firearms’ would’ve been torn apart for spare parts long ago. Who else in the entire organisation would have even a lick of Sandrone’s prowess for manufacturing their revolvers, rifles, and silver bullets? She knew she was irreplaceable to the Hunters, and she took advantage of that fact quite often.
“Leaving so soon?” The white-haired Harbinger immediately caught Sandrone’s glass before wiping it down.
“Tonight? Yes, I’d rather be slammed through a brick wall by a shell-shocked vampire again before spending another moment in this dreadful situation,” Sandrone sighed. “But for the foreseeable future? There’ll be no possible escape from the grip of this awful hunting job.”
She fumbled through her satchel for the familiar pair of gate keys she kept on her person at all times. ‘Quite an unwise decision’ was Arlecchino’s general opinion on Sandrone pocketing the Bureau keys during missions, but she usually ignored it. Perhaps there was enough mutual trust between the two to prevent unnecessary disputes from breaking out. If it were those shrewd upper management worms running the front, then the entire city square would be forever engulfed in profanity filled arguments on building and troop safety.
All in all, there were numerous graces that Sandrone had yet to thank Arlecchino for. She would simply do it later.
Sandrone slid the keys across the booth’s counter and purposefully avoided Furina’s gaze before tapping the other Harbinger’s shoulder.
“Heavenly Principles above, good luck on the rest of your shift. I can’t imagine dealing with Furina for another five seconds.”
The comment managed to squeeze one more chuckle out of Arlecchino.
“No need to worry, Mademoiselle Marionette. These little affairs are of no hassle to me, though I doubt the same could be said for you. Take a break, won’t you?”
‘Mademoiselle Marionette’ shot her a somewhat displeased glance and set off on her usual route home. The city square’s slightly nicer stone paths offered a short stretch of refuge for weary Hunter boots, but soon wavered out of existence. It was in desperate need of repaving and consistent maintenance, but there was an apparent shortage of overnight labour — despite half of society being made up of night dwelling sentient beings that would be more than ecstatic to keep up the roads.
Sandrone watched as groups of Hunters made their way to and from the Bureau reception office accompanied with the sound of clattering holsters. Each Hunter was required to have at least two essential weapons with them at all times, those being their standard revolver and dagger. Of course, that also meant an ammunition pouch containing a set amount of silver bullets that each of them had to individually count before setting out on a mission. It was frightening for Sandrone to realise that nearly none of the trainees even knew how to load bullets in a cylinder.
She lifted her head to stare at the crescent moon that hung in the infinite dark sky. It held a deep-rooted history within vampire culture due to its role as the only celestial body they were capable of seeing without physically evaporating. An urban legend once prophesied that the moon granted vampires incredible power and strength, but there had been no living vampire with such qualities within the past millennia. Even if they did exist, the Hunters would have most likely taken them out already — ‘deemed too much of a danger to their surroundings’ would be the Bureau’s excuse.
It was easy to forget that most vampires led regular and just lives, at least to the Hunters. Ugh, whatever. She didn’t need to think about that now.
Suddenly, an idea shot through Sandrone’s thoughts. Arlecchino once notified her about a possible shortcut that shaved off at least ten minutes’ worth of walking from her work commute. It wasn’t that she lived far, it was more due to the fact that the city was less organised than a group of Hunters attempting to stand in a straight line. If anyone wanted to go anywhere, they would be forced to squeeze through those damp and musty alleyways. Probably reeked of the scent of blood as well, why not add it on the checklist?
She groaned and placed a hand on her face in deep contemplation, her expression a mix of pain and hesitation.
“...Fine! Fine, whatever! I don’t care at all, actually!” Sandrone shook her head in exasperation while rubbing her temple.
She quickly sped in the nearby cramped alley and recited the route Arlecchino gave her in the unlikely case where she would get lost in the sprawling city corridors. It appeared to be barely wide enough for two people to fit through comfortably, two and a half if it was truly necessary. As she expected, the eroded cobblestone walls smelled a faint tinge of mildew and old rust. There was a distant dripping that echoed throughout the hall, tiny skitters and creaking of an unknown source filled the space when there was an inkling of silence that dared encroach upon the alley’s ecosystem.
The scent of rotting iron slowly became overwhelming as she paced deeper in. The smell was far from a new experience to Sandrone, but she hadn’t expected it to be so strong in a place so arbitrary. There had likely been a recent scuffle that the Bureau cleaners weren’t notified of, but she couldn’t assume. Far too many similar situations fell through the assigned Hunters’ grasps, and it wasn’t as if they were policing the entire area. Troops could only stretch so thin.
…Huh?
Two obscured figures stood huddled together near the other end of the alley opening, their silhouettes illuminated by a distant firelight. From what Sandrone could deduce, the two wore long cloaks, or quite possibly trench coats. It was difficult to tell from the distance, but she paid no mind. She had better things to work on once she arrived home.
Muttering a quiet excuse me under her breath, she pushed one of the figures — man or woman, she wasn’t entirely sure — and barely squeezed past through the tight alley walls to get past. Success! No more mind-numbing difficulties for the rest of her night, and it was all easy from here.
She was a fool for thinking it would be so simple.
Sandrone felt a sudden tug on the collar of her cloak, the force causing her to skip a step backwards. She blindly reached behind her to swat the obstacle away, but to no avail. Turning her head the furthest she could manage, she caught a glimpse of one of the figures opening their mouth to speak. She could feel her blood begin to boil at the mere sight of flashing white fangs. Exactly what she needed, another figurative and literal prick in her side.
“You didn’t say it loud enough, Hunter,” The shadowed vampire hissed.
“Unusual to see a vampire start a tussle with a Hunter, no?”
Sandrone grit her teeth and jerked her body away from the hand restraining her collar, causing the assailant to abruptly let go. She quickly shifted to hover her arm over the secured holster pinned on her belt, her fingers barely grazing the revolver’s hammer and grip. She took a quick glance at the lit street behind the vampire pair before noticing a faint glow emanating through their coat pockets. What in the world was that? Radioactive waste?
“Yeah, ‘cause you filthy mercenaries keep blasting a hole straight through our chests before we can even get a word in.” The second vampire stepped closer to her, grimacing as he walked. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to waltz through this alley without consulting us.”
This wasn’t her problem at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she left any trace of evidence from one of her targets, nor did she care. In fact, she had never even met the pair before coming across the alley.
“To be honest with you, I couldn’t care less about this place being part of your territory or whatever fancy title you assigned to it. I’m not even on the clock, so get out of my way.”
She pulled her revolver out of its holster and clicked the hammer, though she refrained from raising it. The two stepped back by the click’s warning but refused to let go of their offensive stances. All this hassle wasn’t worth the ten minutes off her daily commute.
It didn’t help that the chamber of her revolver contained no bullets. It was merely a thick skinned bluff to de-escalate the situation, as Sandrone had successfully crawled her way out of numerous potential aggressions with it in the past. All she had to do was manage a convincing enough façade and bolt when their guards were down. She began to slowly back away, each shift between her boots scraping against dirt and loose pebbles that lay on the bare cobblestone ground.
She could feel the glare of each vampire washing over her conscience like they were vicious predators. They eyed her with cold hostility and watched as she continued to move away from them at snail’s pace. Their body language didn’t indicate any sudden movements or attacks, at least from her experience. She had already reached enough of a distance from them, but it was better safe than sorry.
…No, wait. The vampires’ eyes weren’t on her. They were on something behind her. Something close behind her. She quickly scanned their expressions to deduce what could have possibly approached her without making so much of a sound, a slight hesitation creeping up her spine. She tightened her grip around the revolver and prepared to raise it.
And then she bumped into the unknown, stone-cold object.
“Oh. Am I interrupting something?”
The object’s voice was quiet and soft — even ethereal. As Sandrone urgently spun her head around, she processed exactly what that thing standing behind her was, as if her situation couldn’t become any more of a hassle.
“You-” Sandrone started, feeling her voice fill with anger, “didn’t I tell you to not look for me?!”
The formerly unknown, stone-cold ‘object’ hummed thoughtfully in response.
“No, you just said to not bother you at work, and you aren’t at work right now.”
“I didn’t s-”
Sandrone had barely started her sentence when she felt a freezing hand wrap around her forearm, nearly causing her to flinch away. She felt an overwhelming urge to pull back but refrained from doing so. It would be embarrassing.
“Okay. Then let’s run away together,” the ever-infuriating creature said with a faint smile.
What in the world did that mean?! She couldn’t just force Sandrone everywhere upon a whim, it wasn’t like she owned her or anything! That was exactly why she had been a thorn in her side for the past who-knows-how-long, and what she really needed was a well deserved break from any and all antics she could possibly drag-
“I missed you, Sandrone. You promised me we would play a game today.”
“...Hah?”
Upon regathering her thoughts, Sandrone realised that she was no longer in the alleyway. She stood facing the ‘thorn in her side’ on a flat wooden roof with a balcony jutting out nearby. The horizon stretched endlessly as far as she could see, the city sprawling and busy despite the moon’s illumination driving away all the daylight creatures. There was a slight breeze that brushed by her hair, and the air was far more crisp.
She could hear shouts echo through the alley openings below, both voices filled with surprise and urgency.
“Remember? Last week you said you would play Moon Chess with me around this time.”
Ugh. That was what she meant. But more importantly…
“Columbina!” Sandrone yelled while pointing an accusing finger, her voice slowly rising in volume. “I said no more teleporting! It’s disorienting and horribly inconvenient!”
She crossed her arms and scowled at the girl who stood across from her.
“And what did I say about calling me by my name?”
“Oh…” Columbina trailed off and angled her head like she was deep in thought. “Okay then, Miss Hunter.”
Not like that was any better, but at least it wasn’t a vampire calling a Hunter’s actual name with such filthy affection. Just the mere thought of labeling their relationship as such made Sandrone want to shudder in disgust.
It didn’t help that Columbina looked abnormal compared to most other vampires, nevermind humans. What sort of abysmal creature pranced around all night barefoot without a care in the world, and with her eyes closed? In that sense, she was akin to something like a raccoon or some other atrocious wild animal. Even her clothes made her appear primitive, consisting of a sleeveless one-piece white dress with thin straps.
She had silver thread bracelets decorating her wrists and a similar lace wound on her right ankle. Although all of Sandrone’s interactions with Columbina were dreadful, she had to admit that she looked quite decent with the dress and accessories, as crude as they were.
She rubbed her temples with her free hand, as her other arm was still preoccupied with Columbina’s vice grip. Now she had to deal with this major inconvenience trailing her like Moon-Prayer Night past, shaving off possible hours off her personal relaxation time. There were machines and personal projects that needed recalibration, and Columbina was in no possible universe one of them.
“Are we still playing Moon Chess?” The irritating creature in front of her asked with genuine questioning.
“I didn’t promise you last week, Columbina. That was two days ago,” Sandrone growled.
“Mm. But you said we would play when you didn’t have work.”
“Because the day I decided on was the day where I didn’t need to go to work!”
In return, Columbina raised her brows in genuine surprise.
“...But you aren’t at work right now. That means you can hang out with me instead.”
That had no correlation whatsoever! Sandrone wanted to knock some sense into that thick-skulled organism with the barrel of her revolver, but that wouldn’t do. That would be far from a resolution to her problems and Columbina wouldn’t be affected at all, both physically and mentally. Did Celestia decide to make her life as difficult as humanly possible for this one day? Absolute curses!
Sandrone heaved a long sigh of exasperation.
“Are you aware of calendars? Like the brilliant invention that helps you keep track of what date and event it is on a specific day?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then use them! You didn’t need to drag me all the way up here to ask me to play Moon Chess!”
“I don’t own a calendar, though. How am I supposed to use one without owning it?” Columbina said with a minuscule sly smile, her fangs barely peeking through.
“Then I’ll…” Sandrone trailed off, not quite sure of where she meant to bring the conversation — if whatever disaster she was constrained in could even be classified as one. The best she mustered was averting eye contact. It wasn’t like Columbina had her eyes open anyways.
“Oh, and the gift you promised me as well.”
“...What?”
What gift? What happened a measly two days ago that could have prompted any semblance of a promised gift from a Hunter to an alley dwelling vampire? She ransacked her memories for the last time she even uttered the word gift within the past several months, but to no avail. Especially with the state of the Hunters as they were currently, Sandrone would rather be held at gunpoint than spend a single Mora on frivolous purchases.
“I saved you from those two bullies, didn’t I? I think that warrants a nicely deserved treat,” Columbina said smoothly.
“I didn’t need saving, though. I had it all handled until you came along and pulled me into this ridiculous situation!”
“Okay. Can I have that?”
Columbina pointed at a space above Sandrone’s head with her free hand, looking at it as she did so.
“Have what?” Sandrone grumbled.
“That symbol on your hat, Miss Hunter.”
She began reaching towards the silver bat symbol pinned on the Hunter’s hat, prompting Sandrone to swat her hand away. She gripped her wrist and held her in place, her brows furrowed and expression intense.
“Don’t touch me, vampire.” She glared at Columbina and grit her teeth as she spoke.
Columbina, on the other hand, had nearly no reaction. She simply stared at her with what felt like an expectant look.
Sandrone clicked her tongue and relented.
“Okay, fine! If you want it so bad, then you can have it! It doesn’t mean anything to me anyways, and if it prevents you from coming back, then so be it!”
She let go of Columbina’s wrist and hastily took her hat off, unclipping one of the silver wings off the side. She nearly flung it at her slightly wrenched open hand, its cool exterior still lingering on her fingers.
In return, Columbina made a satisfied hum and twirled the symbol around in her hand, inspecting every corner of the steel object. It had some sort of red gem inlaid on the outer exterior right at the ‘root’ of the wing. Otherwise, it looked identical to a bat’s wing — albeit made of manufactured metals instead of flesh.
“Was that all you wanted? Or are you going to continue bothering me like the annoying worm you are?” Sandrone scoffed, her arm still trapped in Columbina’s hand.
“I’m okay with bothering you.”
“Well, I’m not! Scram already!”
Sandrone yanked at her restrained arm for a brief moment, causing Columbina to stumble forwards. It didn’t have much effect on her insistent grasp, nor did it appear to have fazed her resolve on keeping Sandrone planted on the roof for as long as possible.
“No, your arm.”
“And what about it?” Sandrone hissed.
“If you don’t clean your shirt, it’ll stain.”
Sandrone wasn’t quite sure what to say. The blood trail on her sleeve had completely slipped her mind and had now been noticed by the worst possible person at the worst possible time. She quickly recited all the profanities to her knowledge within the enclosed domain of her mind and cursed out the alley vampires for starting that entire hassle, which then segued into having to deal with Columbina’s endless antics.
“It’s okay, I can clean-”
“Don’t even think about saying another word, you hear me?!”
Columbina didn’t seem particularly bothered with Sandrone’s refute, as she wore an innocent smile while being glared at with the fury of an extremely upset Harbinger. Ugh, she was just absolutely maddening to be around — ever since the very first day they had met! If she thought Furina was bad, then Columbina would singlehandedly shatter the barrier behind that and mindbogglingly horrific.
Perhaps the moon really was out to get her.