Diablo Cerberus
Black Swordsman
Vincent Jameson sat in the corner of his shooting range watching as a couple of lovestruck teenagers walked in, asking to rent out some handguns for the range. His employee at the desk looked nervously around to him, and he sighed, standing and walking over to the desk. "Can I be of some assistance, kids? Look, I hate to be a downer, I know you just wanna shoot some targets. But unless you've got VALID identification, then I suppose you're going to have to go some other place for that. I don't allow my weapons rented out to anyone under 18 without supervision, and my employees are all worked over their limit right now. Sorry to bum you out." He turned and sat back in his corner chair, leaning back and sighing again as the kids left, heads hanging low. Another long day in here... Kinda wish I could manage to find some way to stay out longer in the daylight without it weakening me... Amulet's not working all that well anymore... He opened his eyes as the buzzer went off to signal a shift change for employees. "Just close it up, guys. It's getting dark out, and the others aren't coming in. They called ahead. I've got people to do and things to see." He stood, walking out into the dim light of sundown as the city's street lights cut on for the night. Now, then, let's see if we can't manage to find you tonight, little vampy... The weight of the handgun in his belt was barely noticeable, and owning the range had earned him the privilege of buying a carrying permit from the cops, as a means of protecting himself on the streets. He turned to the left, making his way down a back alley, the feeling in his veins that the vampyress that turned him could not be too far away...