Old friends

It was the cold bucket of water that woke Gilt.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” a familiar voice shouted at him.

Gilt grunted and wearily open his eyes.

He’s still having hungover and in stupor by the blood he had consumed last night. An image struck on his mind; the carnage he left at the bar. All those bastards who tried to nabbed him died splendidly.

It was Cassandra and Paula baited him back at the motel. Gilt thought he was living in heaven for moment with the two, but it was part of their elaborative plan. The ordeal was made known when he noticed their eyes turn to green, they bear fangs, and attempted to kill him.

Gilt, uninhibited he was, ripped their head offs with eased. Outside, a group of lanky werewolves awaited. He had to resort with dirty tricks. He mostly relied on his speed and evaded their launch. Gilt killed them with either knife and stones. In the end he butchered them thoroughly.