Tales of the vampire hunter

"It's right here."

Cheerilee was standing stock still just to the left of the door. Helsing suddenly found himself remembering a specific night when he had been forced to fight vampiric children and a teacher.

Hadn't exactly been fun.

Cheerilee pushed the door open, letting a large amount of noise rumble through the hallway. Yet it curiously stopped when the teacher actually entered.

"Good morning class," Helsing heard her say.

"Good morning miss Cheerilee," he heard what he counted to be 15 or 20 different voices.

He was still standing outside  waiting for his cue, which Cheerilee was happy to give him, "now class, I have a special guest with me that's going to tell you all about his work, which is quite the enticing profession. Now, he's a little bit shy, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't stare too much." Helsing couldn't help but snort loudly, they would stare, he knew they would.

Cheerilee waved him closer, so he coughed slightly to get the attention of the class.

And then they stared.

He would guess that none of them had seen a human before. At the very least the prospect that they had was very slim. So their slack jawed gazes that remained uninterrupted even after he sat down at the teachers desk weren't unjustified.

"This, is Mr. Abraham Van Helsing, he's a human from Germany, I'd like you all to welcome him."

It took the class ten seconds to figure out what their teacher had just said, but once they shook themselves out of their self induced coma they welcomed him, "Hello Mr. Helsing," came the voices, this time not sounding so trained. As if what they were trying to say was hard on their throats.

"Greetings," he said, grabbing his hat and nodding towards the children sitting at the desks.

"Now class," Cheerilee said, not really catching the attention of the class but she continued nevertheless, "I'd like for you to ask Van Helsing as many questions you'd like, but remember not to step over any boundaries."

Immediately about twenty different colored hooves shot into the air, with different levels of excitement.

"Do I choose, or is it you?" Helsing asked Cheerilee, waving his air out at the students.

Cheerilee decided for him, pointing directly at a small orange filly whose wings were buzzing like those of a fly, "Scootaloo."

"Thank you Miss Cheerilee," her voice was grating and confident, a lot like Rainbows. She turned to Helsing, suddenly looking a little more melancholy, "what is your job actually?"

Helsing looked at Cheerilee, seeking advice on what to say. Cheerilee smiled, but then closed her left eye.

Half the truth.

"I'm a hunter." He said matter of factly.

"Well then what do you hunt?" Applebloom asked.

"Applebloom," came the voice of Cheerilee, "raise you hoof first."

The small filly looked down at her table in shame, "sorry miss."

"Snips," Cheerilee said to a rather dumb looking colt who was busily eating his own boogers.

"Umm, I'd like to know what you hunt with." He said, his voice sounded like he had recently suffered a severe concussion.

Again Helsing looked towards the teacher, who promptly nodded at him. He nodded back and stepped off of the chair, grabbing each side of his trench coat and sliding them apart.

Revealing the armory that was inside.

There was his trademark crossbow, driven by steam so it fired the bolts automatically. His trusty smith and Wesson 1898 was hanging right beside it. Gleaming with the golden markings that covered the barrel. Of course there was his spinfusor, the rotating blade arrangement that rainbow had succeeded in setting off.

On his right side was a myriad of bottles, filled with liquids of all colors. Some of then were marked with hearts, others with skulls, and some were even marked with a knife, as in weapon enhancers and such.

"Wow." He heard a small gray filly say from the background, but she was immediately silenced by her pink friend who jabbed her on the shoulder.

He pulled his trench coat back together and sat back down at the table. Feeling much more confident that he had their uninterrupted interest.

"Diamond tiara," Cheerilee said, pointing at the pink filly who had moments ago decked her fellow classmate square on the shoulder.

"Thank you miss Cheerilee," she said, flashing the most fake smile Helsing had ever seen. Sure enough, once he turned to him her look turned to that of disgust and fright.

"Why do you go around dressed in that?" She asked, the disgust from her stare carrying over into her vocal insult.

"Because it's nice and comfy to wear." Helsing said, his voice dripping with sarcasm to the point where he could fill a bucket.

The small filly snorted, turning her head away from the angry glare of the tired hunter.

Cheerilee, noticing that things were getting out of hand, hastily said, "Applebloom, what's your question?"

"Thank ya miss Cheerilee," she smiled as well, but this smile carried genuine warmth and care. If Helsing's heart hadn't been made of steel it would've melted right there.

"What do you hunt?" Applebloom asked, looking up with eyes that at the same time shone with excitement, awe, and curiosity.

Once again Helsing turned towards the children's mentor. She carefully nodded, but her eyes made one thing clear.

Don't go into detail.

"Well," Helsing said, adjusting himself in his seat, now feeling slightly uncomfortable, "to answer that question little filly, I'm going to have to tell you all a little story."

The entirety of the class bent forward over their tables, even the pink one who had seemed disinterested now listened carefully.

"Now, this tale, which happened back in my world, began when I was a kid about your age."

"ALEX," a voice yelled from within the house, "come in here."

The young van Helsing, nowadays showing bright and happy features. He was nimble to the point of being skinny. He had bright blue eyes and blonde hair that ended just above his eyebrows. He was taller than most, easily towering over his two year older brother, much to said brothers displease.

He let go of the axe he had been chopping with. The winter was on their doorstep, so preparation was of the utmost importance.

"Dad?" Helsing yelled, "what is it?" He stepped through the door, finding his dad sitting at the table. Looking down at the beer mug in his hand. His normally proud and noble features had grown more withery as of late, his hair had begun to gray in certain areas, his skin was becoming paler by the day, and his muscles which previously rippled under his skin had disappeared almost completely.

"I'm going on a business trip." The dad said, now looking at his son with eyes that portrayed incredible fear and tiredness.

"Again?" Abraham asked in disbelief, "that's the third this month. What do you expect mom and Alex to do?"

"You are well aware that Alex is your name, your brother is named Abraham." The dad said, now throwing into a fit of coughing.

"I don't like that name," Helsing said, looking down at the ground in disobedience.

The father said nothing to this, merely walking up and grabbing his cape that was hanging on the doorknob.

"Please father, can't I go in stead? You have to stay with mom and Alex, they can't survive without yo-"

Abraham was cut short when a palm connected with his right cheek, he felt his head careen to the left. His neck bending and stinging from the hit.

"I AM JONATHAN VAN HELSING, YOU ARE MY SON, AND YOU WILL DO AS I TELL YOU! IS THIS UNDERSTOOD, ALEX VAN HELSING? his father bellowed, his breath creating vapors in the cool air.

Alex stepped up and rubbed his cheek. He could feel the blood gathering in the side of his mouth and running down to his lips.

"Of course father."

The father nodded, turning around and walking out into the now slowly starting rainstorm. Alex watched it with his eyes slowly tearing up.

There was a thunderclap and a flash.

And at that moment, Alex Van Helsing knew, that this was the last time he would ever see his real father.

Six months later, Helsing was enjoying the still twilight breeze of the spring. The forests always seemed so oddly calm at night, as if these noble oak giants sleep could never be disturbed. And in truth, disturbing them was difficult.

Alex pulled his axe free of the birch tree he had been busily chopping down to size. He had done remarkably well today, not only today, but these last few months had strengthened his mind as well as his body.

He carefully rested the axe on his shoulder an began walking back towards his house. He carefully swung the axe in the air, imitating the knights he had read off in books, or heard about in his fathers stories.

Soon his house came into sight, it wasn't exactly impressive. It was a small wooden cottage with tiny windows and a small garden out the front. But something was different today.

There was a carriage out the front.

But no sound came from the house. No silhouettes in front of the windows.

And the door was standing wide open.

Pales' space increased rapidly until he was running towards the cottage with the speed of a prey fleeing from a predator.

He ran straight into the house, he found his brother sitting bent over the table. He blew a burst of air out, he walked over to his brother, lightly patting him on back.

"Come on Abraham, where's dad?"

The brother fell forward, revealing his neck that had been mangled to the point of i recognition. His eyes were wide open in fear and disbelief. Alex backed slowly away from his brothers corpse.

"No, n-no, this isn't happening," he was biting down on his lower lip, drawing blood and revealing that this was no dream.

This was real.

He heard a small noise from upstairs, he grabbed the axe before moving up, fully prepared to fight whoever had mutilated his brother.

He heard grizzled noises coming from his bedroom. He opened the door slightly, causing a small creak. Fortunately, whoever was in there appeared not to have heard him.

Or rather what was in there.

A man in rags was bent over Alex's mothers corpse, busily gnawing on her exposed throat. She occasionally spasmed when the man hit a nerve.

Alex paid it not mind.

He charged in, shouting at the top of his lungs and bringing the axe down directly down at the mans back. The bones snapped and split with satisfying cracks. He pulled the axe free and brought it down onto the mans back head.

The man fell backward, the axe falling out once the handle hit the floor.

And Jonathan Van Helsing's dead eyes stared up at his son.

Alex dropped down onto the floor, his head buried in his hands, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. But then he felt an odd sensation filling his body. As if something else had entered his body. Sitting alongside his soul, not dominant but merely present.

He looked up, his eyes suddenly dry. Showing no sign of his previous tearing up. But that wasn't the weirdest part.

His eyes were a blazing red.

He went downwards, grabbing his fathers coins and his crossbow, he weighed the heavy wooden weapon in his hands. Finding it to be satisfying he grabbed a small box of matches lying on the table.

He found some dried leaves outside, he brought them in and lit them on fire, creating a small bonfire that soon spread to the rest of the cottage.

And as the memories if Abraham Van Helsing, Jonathan Van Helsing, Maria Van Helsing, and Alex Van Helsing went up in flames...

...... Abraham Alexandria Van Helsing the Vampire hunter was born from their ashes.