\chapter[L.B.; V.H.E.]{L.B.; V.H.E. (the extended directors cut, with deleted scenes)} \by{Barometer} Luke sat in the dimly lighted corner of an underused and over-bright bar. ``Almost noon'' he thought to himself ``they should be fast asleep by now.'' Shifting his considerable bulk, he managed to stand on his one good leg, supporting himself with a hand on the table while his other hand reached for his cane; an old waking cane bought form a dealer in Soho many years past. ``God I've really let myself go since the accident'' he whispered to no-one ``maybe I'll look into that Pilates shit{\ldots}or something.'' He rolled his one good eye towards the pretty barmaid, a buxom blonde who was eyeing him suspiciously. His meaty paw fished out a couple of bills and dropped them unceremoniously onto the wet tabletop, next to his three empty glasses. ``Hurr'' he spewed ``That'll teach her not to return my flirtations{\ldots}uppity bitch.'' He gave her a smile that would wither a rose, showing his rotten teeth that were green and yellow as vomit. Lurching forward like some hellish zombie, he headed for the door. Once outside, on the street, he shielded his eyes from the bright sunshine ``Jesus I hate Kansas!'' he shouted, and a couple of elderly people strolling by averted their gaze. He snarled at them, like some wild animal that had been too long held in a cage and was only now getting it's first taste of sweet freedom. ``fuckers'' he mumbled. Luke was an old man now, even though he was only forty. He had seen so much; things that would make your skin crawl right off your body. Things that could curdle milk by just being discussed. Luke was a Vampire hunter, in the classical sense. Luke was very, very good at his job.Checking the swordcane with a swift motion, and satisfying himself that it was still good and sharp and made of the finest ebony, he trundled down the street towards the old Biddick Mansion looking like some undead pimp, rolling towards his best girl. ``Those goddamn Vampires'll be vomiting blood from their throats, ere this day is finished'' he vowed to heaven above ``Or my name's not; Luke Bavarious, Vampire Hunter Extraordinaire!'' A boy of about 12 happened to be standing nearby, and when he heard this his eyes sparkled with a devilish glee. ``Hey, mister{\ldots}you goin' up to the ol Biddick place?'' ``So what if I am, you little shit?'' Luke gnashed his rotten teeth ``Better not, I hear them folks is crazy{\ldots}and they got some kinda dawg that wanders the grounds during the daytime. Never see 'em lessen it's nighttime.'' Bavarious gave the tyke a once-over, and answered ``Izzat right{\ldots}well, guess it's a good thing I have this Beretta then, huh?'' as he spoke, Luke eased his brown courdory overcoat aside, showing off a holstered Beretta 9mm, worn gunslinger style, with the butt facing forward. ``I imagine {\em this} will take care of that old {\em dawg}'' he imitated the boys thick accent. He swooned a bit form the heat, and sweating copiusly, continued his roll down the street. Following at a short distance, the boy followed, shoeless and dressed only in blue coveralls, worn form use and neglect. His bare feet were covered in sores and wounds garnered from his time playing in the dirt and rocks surrounding the little no-name town they were in. His eyes were wide, and full of anticipation. He had never before seen a man this grossly overweight, and was intrigued. After a few minutes, Luke felt as if the eyes of Satan himself were upon him, so he swung around fiercely, whipping out his sidearm ``{\bf who dat}?!'' he cried his good eye searching and looking crazily around until it alighted on the small figure in front of him. The boy jumped from fright, and for a moment he felt as if his his heart was going to burst from his chest, spewing crimson blood across the dusty sidewalk ``{\bf it's just me mister}'' he shouted, thinking the geezer must be hard of hearing if he had not noticed him following by then ``{\bf I wanna help, mister!}'' ``{\bf Help?}'' Shouted Luke, unconsciously imitating the boy and shouting back;``{\bf I don't}---'' he suddenly realised he was shouting, and dropped his voice seeing that another couple across the street were watching, intently`` I Don't need your help, kid{\ldots}now, buzz off{\ldots}get lost{\ldots}scram. Comprende?'' The nameless waif wondered what the hell ``Comprende'' meant, but the rest of the message was clear enough. ``Fine, you ol' bastard{\ldots}go on, get yourself killed, see if I care!'' and with that, he ran off. It took Luke another ten minutes of lurching to gain the front gate of the fenced in yard surrounding the mansion. ``Hmmmm, I don't {\em see} any big dog'' He continued to roll his single, jaundiced eye back and forth, looking in vain for any sign of a guard dog. Satisfied that there was no sign of such a beast, he opened the gate and hobbled up the front path to the stairs leading onto the porch. He unintentionally farted. Once in front of the massive oak double-doors, he swung his eye around for another look. Again, there was nothing to challenge him, and as he considered knocking, the doors parted of their own accord, affording him access to the darkened foyer of the seemingly uninhabited mansion. ``{\em Creeeeeeeeeak}'' went the doors, and when they were fully apart, L.B. (As his one and only friend called him) took stock of the room revealed before his eye. It was a small room, comfortable and sparsly decorated. There were a couple cameos on the wall, and a small desk, covered in what looked to be unopened mail. L.B. knew there were Vampires in this place, he could smell the stink of hell itself in this place and he figured that like all of their ilk, they would be holed up in the basement, sleeping their undead sleep in coffins filled with the dirt of their original resting places. He shifted his weight ``God-{\em damn} it I gotta lose some poundage'' he cursed. After a cursory search of the downstairs, he found what appeared to be a locked door to the basement, and he put his left ear up to it and listened. ``Hmmmmm, sounds like a heart beating{\ldots}that's odd'' He tried the door, but as he had surmised; it was locked! Suddenly the door came crashing in on him, and the portal vomited forth a huge, black dog{\ldots}some kind of mutant Great Dane he thought fleetingly, as it quickly bit into his neck, tearing out his windpipe and causing Luke to make the most horrid sounds even he, in his long career of monster slaying, had ever heard. Somehow, his fat right hand had reacted instinctively and the Beretta was alive in his hand! Bullets tore through the monstrous dogs body, knocking it backwards and slamming it against the wall. As it writhed in its death throes, Luke attempted to staunch his wound, but he knew it was too late his plump hands could find no purchase, and the wound was surely a mortal one. His vision was blurring to the point that he could barely make out the small shape coming up from the basement. ``You shoulda listened to me, mister'' Said the boy in a quiet tone ``I woulda showed you the cellar door, and then ol Blackwood there woulda never bit ya!'' ``Gurgle..cough, spit'' was all Luke could get out, and as the life ebbed from him, laying on that dirty linoleum kitchen floor, all he could think was; ``Shit, why didn't I listen to that kid?'' The boy crouched down in front of him, and just as his eye glazed over he caught sight of a family portrait on the wall{\ldots}some cheesy mall photobooth picture, enlarged, of the boy{\ldots}with the name ``Ben'' in faux spraypaint letters and some other bling he couldn't quite make out, before the Angel of Death took him. ``Ma and Pa are gonna be {\em so pissed} that you killed Blackwood{\ldots}'' said the boy to the corpse, glancing over to the lifeless dog ``Maybe ma will raise ya, so they can punish ya!'' again his eyes filled with an evil gleam. With that, he gave a shrill laugh, and ran as fast as he could back down the stairs, anticipation bubbling forth like boiling coffee.