Jason Kaine was in one of his grim moods.
The curse he had dealt with all his adult life had rearing its ugly head again. The mania phase was not so bad. Most people would pay good money to get the high that came naturally to him.
But the mania always gave way to depression. Very dark, very dangerous periods these were. And Jason was on the cusp of such a period now. With a grimace he picked up the little brown plastic bottle before him and popped it open. He fished out one of the small blue pills and tossed it into his mouth, then swallowed it down without liquid.
The medication was supposed to help his brain chemistry. Keep everything stable. No highs, no lows. Just an even keel. When asked what he felt like on meds, Jason often said it was not good and not bad. Just different than what he felt like off them.
"You want anything sir?" Jason looked up from his table. The waitress was dressed rather scantily. Black stockings held by a strap to her frilly little maid's outfit. She was cute looking and very desirable. But Jason also knew she was one of them. Or so the reports he'd read indicated.
"Water." Jason answered back. The waitress looked a little confused. Jason glared at her, "Did you hear me?" He asked with a snap.
"Yes." The waitress said with a hint of annoyance, "I saw you take something. We don't allow drugs in here."
Jason chuckled softly, "It's prescribed." He said waving the little brown bottle, then he put it into his coat, "I've a medical condition."
"That's what they all say," The waitress said, "Just take your 'medication' before you come in here." She turned around and started back towards the bar. But didn't make it five steps before a bullet ripped a chunk of her head off.
"Thanks," Jason said as she dropped to the floor, "I'll keep that in mind." He pulled the trigger of his gun again. A bartender's head exploded into gore across some bottles of cheep liquor.
There was a lot of screaming. People were running for the exits in a blind panic. Well, the humans were making for the exits. This was good, they weren't the ones Jason was after. The vampire, on the other hand, was. And he was standing his ground and not looking happy. Jason pulled a second pistol from his brown trench coat. Things were about to get very messy.
"I don't know who ya are," The exceptionally fat vampire said, "But ya fucked up comin' ta my bar." He was dressed in a suit that was a few sizes too small for him and at least ten years out of fashion. Don Johnson of his Miami Vice days was probably his idol when he was turned into a vampire. He looked like one of those scummy guys who sells kiddy porn in seedy back room bars.
Which, ironically, is what this vampire often did. He went by the street name 'Snackman.' What his real name was Jason had no idea. Nor did he care.
"Kill 'em!" Snackman said with a snap of his fingers. Three other vampires came out of a room behind the bar. All held bats or clubs of some sort. They looked like rejects from a Marilyn Mason concert. Jason didn't bother to say anything but started pulling the trigger on his guns as fast as he could.
The rain of hot metallic slugs he'd unleashed slammed into the vampires. Ordinary bullets have little effect on vampires. But then these were far from ordinary bullets. They were a special designed by the military to deal with unusual circumstances. The bullets ripped the very flesh from the vampire's bones. When Jason was finished, the vampires were a mass of torn chunks of meat. Some were still alive. Yet in no condition to do much but lay upon the ground and ooze. Jason stepped over two of them and made his way to Snackman.
"B... Ba... Bastard!" Snackman groaned out as he tried to look defiant. He found this difficult with his ample gut torn open and his intestines spread all over the floor. It reminded Jason of the linguine he had before coming here. Jason put his pistols back in his coat and pulled out a large round grenade. He pulled the pin free on it's side.
"Who the fuck are ya!" Snackman yelled. Jason dropped the grenade on the mass that had once made up Snackman.
"Santa Claus." Jason said, "Have a Merry Christmas." And he turned walked out of the bar. Snackman tried to pick the grenade up from his guts, but found his arms no longer had hands on their ends. A moment later the bomb went off engulfing Snackman and his fellow vampires in a ball of fire. And the whole of the bar as well.
Jason stopped and looked back at the growing fire where the bar had been. He pulled a cell-phone from his coat and dialed up a number, "Its Kaine. Beaker street nest has been eliminated." He snapped the phone closed and tossed it back in his coat. Then Jason looked back at the fire again. He felt nothing. Not joy for stopping the vampires. Not depression for the lives he had taken. He just felt calm and stable.
"Guess the meds are still working," Jason muttered. He turned and walked off into the night.