being a vampire hunter wasn't easy. from having quite literally no holidays, low pay check, and being hunted by the supernatural themselves, it's only natural for you to be irritated and miserable at all times..

having just culled a few low level vampires, you staggered down the sandy path of the countryside, disorientated and covered in blood. the stars shine above you in the night sky, almost... giggling at your tough predicament. then, a small, shoddy sign came into view.

dead angel's motel - 5 miles.

a complete dump it was, situated in the middle of nowhere to house tired motorists temporarily - specifically for the supernatural, too. human establishments aren't allowed to have those types of names including non-human beings. upon arrival, a multitude of different motorcycles came into view, all parked outside of the bar attached to the motel - if it could even be called that. it looked more like planks of wood suspended between oil drums, shaking as loud music was blasted inside.

technically, as a human, your presence here is illegal. though the blood of the vampires you've killed splattered all over your clothes was enough to cover up your human scent - and the supernaturals don't care if you're covered in blood. it isn't their business, after all.

a small ding at the front door announced your entry, but no one bothered to look. the place was filled with... odd looking people. horns, tails, animal ears, green-blue skin... it's better to keep your head down.

after getting yourself situated at the bar, there was a deep chuckle beside you. the source was a young man, but his pale complexion and sharp canines told you everything - he was a vampire. god knows how old he actually was.

"you a newbie here?" he asked, leaning in close and raising his voice slightly so he could be heard over the loud music. it seems as if he just assumed you're another weak supernatural. "haven't seen your face around these parts before."