just a story about a vampire...opinions needed

I want your oppinion on this...


Feiren Toblodo walked down the stairs to the lobby of his apartment building, his long, black trench coat swaying with a small swishing noise. It was seven o'clock, and the sun was just sinking below the horizon. Hunting time, he thought, smirking quietly to himself. He walked out slowly out of the unremarkable, brick building in which he lived. His cold, red eyes twinkled in the dull and flickering light of a street lamp. His shoulder length night-dark hair shone with the light from the neon sign hanging above the apartment building. Feiren flowed liquidly down the street, reaching the corner and almost running into a small, dirty, homeless man. "Watch where ye' be walkin' youngin'" drawled out the drunken tramp.

Feiren politely bowed his head and apologized, "Forgive me sir. I was not paying attention."

"Ahh, keep n' walkin', ya' smooth talkin' bastard." The tramp's eyes had glazed over and his hair was ruffled. The pungent stench of whiskey hung like an aura about him, it was obvious he had been drinking heavily. The tramp skirted Feiren and stumbled across the street, his step uneven and his body swaying as if it were a young sapling in a powerful gust. He began serenading the apartments and offices that towered above him, singing a sweet song of a long lost love.

Feiren sighed, disappointed that the tramp would sooner drown himself in alcohol than face hardships and come out a better person for it.

Feiren continued down the street for a couple of blocks, only passing another person once more, a young man walking his dog.
The Setting Sun was located in an abandoned meat factory, large and open, which had been renovated seven years prior. It was home to the world famous dj, DJ Hondu, a Japanese dj who had moved to America as a boy. There were stairs, descending from the street to the front doors of the club, and just inside and to the left, was the bar. Across the way was the turntable, and a huge screen with blurring motion waving about it. There were booths around all the walls, and the rest of the floor was flooded with dancing people, glow sticks shining, lasers flickering, and the artificial fog lingering about them. On the walls, thirty feet up, were the VIP balconies. There were a total of eight VIP rooms, each with their own balcony, bar, and hot tub. The ceiling extended seventy feet above the floor, and upon catwalks, nestled against the ceiling, where large laser and light arrays, along with a few artificial fog machines.

VIP room number three belonged personally to Feiren Toblodo, though he hadn't paid a single cent for it. He could convince one of the ushers to jump out of an airplane without a parachute if he really wanted to do so. He made himself a drink of the finest dark red wine, and proceeded out onto his balcony. The people below on the dance floor danced gloriously, weaving about, some dancing atop tables and speakers. Watching from above gave Feiren a strange sense of peace. The intense, fast beat thumped through his body like a jackhammer, leaving him tapping his feet to the beat.

The balconies about him were all empty, except for one on the far wall, above the entrance. There stood a young woman, watching all from above, as he did. She wore a tank top, skin tight so that it barely fit around her ample breasts, and a short skirt showing off her slim legs. Her hair was a light brown, shoulder length and wavy. Even from this distance, Feiren could see that her eyes were the color of the deep ocean, entrancingly blue and shining with a strange light. The girl's shoes were ridiculously high stilettos, about eight inches at the heel.
The woman glanced up and saw Feiren staring at her, a smile dawning across her face, the sun rising majestically above the mountain peak, and Feiren became even more entranced by her beauty. The woman motioned for Feiren to join her, making him feel like a giddy schoolgirl and quickly left his VIP room.

DJ Hondu stood stoically at his turntables, watching the crowd dance. Blurs of color and people surrounded him, and he felt isolated at sea. DJ Hondu was a laconic man in his early thirties. During the day, he worked for a software corporation under the name Shiniru Onamara, and by night, he was the world famous DJ Hondu. His Japanese heritage was very clear, down to his short cropped, dark hair. The only things not true to his Japanese heritage were his eyes. His eyes were a deep red, very similar to Feiren's eyes.

Feiren walked down the steps from the VIP corridor to the dance floor, and drifted in a dreamlike state towards the stage where his friend was. He was in euphoria, in ecstasy, and he had sated his urge, which by that time had become insistent. The dark, red wine still tipped his tongue, the sweet taste lingering, leaving his heightened sense of taste tasting the nectar of life for a week to come. Feiren had not only sated his thirst, but had sated his carnal urge as well.

She awoke, suddenly conscious and breathing heavily. The last thing she remembered was the man from the balcony, and a small pain in her neck, and then, nothing… Then as she lay in her bed, breathing heavily, and looking around, she began to feel an… urge, a pulling, and she knew….


Feiren awoke sweating inside his sweltering coffin, it was a hot summer night in New York, and it was made even more uncomfortable by Feiren's natural warm natured-ness. Feiren was blasting out a strange mix of techno and classical music through the speakers installed in his "bed". The music gave the feeling of power that he achieved when he feasted, and Feiren liked power.

The reason for Feiren's sudden awakening was that he had had a disturbing nightmare. He had been stalking a woman from the rooftops when he had lost all his strength and power. A hunter had approached him and pinned him down. The hunter had toyed with him and was about to kill him when he woke up.

Feiren was breathing heavily and feeling powerless until he heard what was playing and he began to feel powerful again. "I should really install air conditioning in here" thought he, for it had felt as if he were out in the burning sun.
Feiren's mind rose high above the city of Reharo and sensed the many, many people like him in the city, visualizing them on a map of Reharo. He was calmed by the fact that none of them on his "map" suddenly winked out of existence, though there were very few of them, most probably having moved off to large cities on account of the small population.

Feiren lay in a beautiful mahogany "bed", the surface covered with gold wrought Japanese characters, which translated into Life, Eternity, and Death. The handles were pure silver, and the "sheets" were pure purple silk, the color of royalty. It was lined with speakers and contained a wine dispenser, stocked with the richest dark, red wine.

Feiren climbed slowly out of his bed, stretching out the stiffness in his muscles. He made his way through to the bathroom, and stripped down to his bear skin. He turned a knob and the water from the shower head came down in sheets of freezing rain. The cold water felt like aloe on sunburn, cooling him down and reviving him from a deep sleep. As the water cascaded down his body, washing the stench of the previous day off of him. He thought about what to do tonight. The urges were weak, so he decided to visit the rave again. He climbed out of the shower, his body heavy with sleep.

Being 6' 10", Feiren had to duck going through doorways. After putting a shirt over his toned upper body, and pulling on some pants, he noticed that a window was opened. Odd he thought. Over he walked to close it. He ruffled his wet hair in an attempt to calm it, only succeeding in making it more unruly.

That was when he smelled it… Vampire Hunter! Standing ten feet behind him, a grin lighting his face was 200 pounds of pure muscle. The famous vampire hunter Shaun Thistlethwaite stood with a grin on his face. In his hand he held a modified shotgun that shot silver stakes instead of buckshot. His thinning hair was combed to the front of his head, and his tall form was made even more ominous by the cloak that he wore.

Feiren slowly turned around, his hands in the air. This is not good, he thought. Shaun Thistlethwaite stood a good six inches taller than Feiren, and looked twice as strong as any human he had yet meet. Then there was the fact of his record. He had killed more vampires than any other human in history. "I suppose that this is not a social visit."

"Oh, well, you know. I just thought I'd drop in for a cup of tea. You know me." Not only was the Hunter dangerous, he was a sarcastic bastard as well. "Oh it looks like you forgot to put the tea on. I'm starting to think that you didn't want me to come. That isn't very nice. Now you've gone and made me sad. That isn't nice. That isn't nice at all." The hunter made a clucking noise with his tongue, popping fresh stakes into his shotgun. "Tsk tsk tsk, what ever shall we do with you. You know I spend the time and effort to come down here for a cup of tea, and you don't even welcome me."

"Oh, silly me, here I was thinking that that was next week," Feiren said, trying to delay the inevitable.

And then the inevitable happened. The hunter swung up the modified shotgun, his hand quick as lightning. But Feiren was faster, by the time that the shotgun had been fired, he was halfway across the kitchen. Feiren picked up a knife and rolled as a second shot rang out.