A/N: Well this is my very first OUaTiM fic and I hope you guys like it.
Disclaimer: I don't own OUaTiM or any of the characters that you recognize.
He lifted his mouth away from the lifeless neck that he had just been sucking on. Nothing can compare to the rush of a fresh kill. Savoring the taste as the last few trickles of blood slithered down his throat he took out his gun and casually put the silencer on it. He dropped the body and shot right in between the two marks his fangs had left behind. Now no one would know that a vampire had, drop by drop, drained this obese, middle-aged man of his very life force. The best part about it was that victims didn't die until there was only a couple pints of blood left. Watching them gasp and pant was almost as good as the blood itself. Of course now he couldn't see them struggle. He had to listen and feel. That was more than enough reason to suck them dry.
Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands walked out of the alley way he had just been in looking about ten years younger. If it wasn't for the darkness that he was shrouded in other night stalkers would notice how pale he now was.
Nice going Sheldon. What would your brother think of you now? He always told you how horrible it was to kill people. How bad it was take the life of another living thing. And now that's exactly what you do. Take the life force of other people. Despicable.
"Shut up." He whispered back to the voice in his head. "He left me. He left me to rot away in an orphanage while he went off and lived in a nice house with a nice family. He could be just like me, but he chose to ignore his heritage. Bastard!" People that he passed were starting to stare. Maybe he was getting just a bit too loud. Or maybe he took just a little bit too much blood and now he looked like he was sickly. Someone finally stopped him and told him that he looked as if he was about to pass out.
"No sir, I'm fine, but could you maybe help me out. I'm in a bit of a jam you see. Come over here and I'll explain everything." He was leading the man to his death. Maybe he'd just take some of his blood. "Sir?" Sands turned. "Is that a fake mustache?" A sinister grin came across Sands' face. "Why yes. It is." He closed in on the man and sunk his teeth into his jugular.
Sheldon. Don't be greedy. Just take a little bit. Think of what Mort would say.
"I don't give a shit about what Mort would say." As soon as Sands loosened his grip the man ran off without a single glance back. "Fuck." Suddenly a familiar jingling reached his ears. "The?"
El stopped in his tracks. America was more dangerous than he thought it would be. "Sands?"
"How did you know it was me? Am I that obvious?"
"Let's go get something to eat."
So there it is. This is only the first chapter to what will hopefully be a long story. Tell me what you think please. I could really use some input.