You were a vampire, but you were not born as one. Against your will, you were turned into one, condemned to wander the centuries, branded as a monster, an aberration worthy of hell itself. There was no way to hide what you were, but there was a way to prevent what you once were from dying. It was even contradictory, humans hated you and yet you protected them, hunting your own kind, well, you weren't like them, somehow the bloodlust in you wasn't as intense, yes, sometimes you lost control, but you tried to resist and (at least that's how you wanted to see it) you only resorted to that when there was no other way out, but usually in the forests on the outskirts of the villages there were animals to feed on.

The aversion to any religious figure or representation was present in you, something as simple as brushing against a rosary and being touched by a drop of holy water was painful. And now that aversion was worse when the news of a monster hunter sent by the Vatican reached your ears. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed. And when they did, it was... painful? Yeah, it was.

Van Helsing always expected something to happen, his senses were sharp and having been through countless situations made him even more alert. During the night, the town you usually watched and guarded was attacked, it was rumored that a group of minor vampires roamed around, blending in with the townspeople and then attacking. And while you were hunting them, he appeared on the scene. Obviously Van Helsing wasn't going to believe such a fallacy of a vampire hunting others, that was unnatural. So while all the townspeople fled and hid in their huts, an arrow went straight through your shoulder, leaving you pinned against the wood of a cart.

"Are you done with your act, bloodsucker? I don't know who you're trying to fool, but at least you're not going to take me for one."

It seemed to be mocking you, but it was hard to confirm when you were struggling to unearth an arrow.