Frank Versus The Vampire
By Mat Nastos
Synopsis: Detective Frank Fenris specializes in the more…unusual cases for the NYPD. When his latest hunt, for a missing college co-ed, winds up at a ratty, downtown Manhattan apartment, Frank must face off alone against one of the most powerful undead creatures around.
“Undead or alive, punk, you’re coming with me,” I said in my best Peter Weller impression. Unfortunately, the blank look on the man’s face standing across the bloodstained carpet of the small efficiency Manhattan apartment told me he hadn’t seen Robocop.
That’s the thing I hate about vampires: they never get my jokes.
Now that I think about it, my ex-wife was cold, pale, soulless, and didn’t think I was funny either. I’m almost 98% positive she was a vampire.
The one standing in front of me was of your typical “Billy Idol” variety: thin, pasty white skin, spiky bleached blond hair, eyes covered with what appeared to be an excessive amount of black eyeliner, fingernails painted black, unbelievably tight black leather pants and artfully scuffed Doc Martens. If I hadn’t already been assigned to take him out, I’d have killed him on principal alone just for wearing those crappy hipster boots.
The fact he was also shirtless, with huge, pink, half-dollar sized man-nipples and had too much happy-trail showing above the top of his pants had me wishing I could take a Brillo-pad to my eyes. If this were still the politically incorrect Eighties, I’d have called him “gay.” In the Nineties, he’d have been a “goth.” Now, though, I suppose the proper term for an effeminate, whiny, ear-ringed guy wearing a thick white belt would be “emo.” God, I miss the Eighties.
Whatever you wanted to call him, he was a killer and he was going down. I don’t cotton to vampires running amuck in my town. <end excerpt>