I'm B-Rad, Huntin genius
The 6th sense has nothing on me
Seeing Shadows creeping
Beating their brains in for free

That was the purpose. The name of the game, and he felt mad boss doing it too. His life was Ghostbusters in overdrive, and there was no limp PETA around to activism or pay no mind to what they were doing. Instead of being THE freak, he beat the freaks, and while he wasn't winning any titles to record labels, he continued singing while he felt he won lives. He helped in the bigger picture, and while ganstas were playing about fighting in the hood, he had a bigger, more secretive battle to fight. That was why he was here, had to be here, and continued to be here.

Spending year out here,
Felling like Giligan,
Without Ginger or Lovely,
No time for lakeside chilian.

Not to say he didn't have fun. He had friend. He was young, but like the rappers he honored and idolized, he did the same for the hunters around him. They were living the hard life, and had the scars to prove it. They were his mentors, and while he was still considered green, he wasn't rookie stems either. His roots were firmly planted in the cause, and he had proven himself. He wanted to be one of the big dog. The Hunter thugs who took names and gained all the ladies. There was always talk that this could be it, but he had aspirations. Thoughts of the future, and maybe that was stupid in itself to talk about the battle and yet rapping about tomorrow. When you were young, you couldn't shake off that there was always time left. The procrastinating of life, but that didn't mean he didn't try living it.


We've got some serious duties,
It's War. Let it shower!
So grab your weapons, call your friends,
and beat a Boogey for power.

I've got these monsters running
Beat a bat into their head
Got this world flipped over
chasing them back under the bed.

I'm the one they're afraid of,
I'm the one that says Boo!
They will be trapped up and beat up
when I'm finally through

When they look to a mirror
Say my name three times quick
It's my face that pops up
No Treat. No Trick!

His body rested beside the radio, the sky dark as thousands of people spoke below - and yet he was well aware of the silence. He stood beside the radio. He hadn't been fighting in those last moments, winning some glory medal. He only listened as everyone called out to their friends, their girlfriends and boyfriends, and he was there, mouth before the mic - with nothing to say. He had no one to say something serious, something REAL, to the heart, to. Not a clever quick or lasting moment. His last words were not words at all.

But Dorrin was there. The vampire was beside him, resting, and he could almost imagine him laying crypt style with his arms across his chest. He wanted to ask what he was thinking, or a general assessment of his life as a Hunter. A grade. A self assurance that he was, while using the weapon, not a total ******** up. But Dorrin was just as silent as he was. Not silent to be cool - as the vampire was never close to that, but with that hint that he wasn't speechless by choice. Dude could have probably offered some sick advice - some ancient last words, but he didn't address anything. Was death even that strange for a vampire that was now a bat?

He wished he had that sort of fear look in death's eyes. Instead........he was just scared.



So much for being gansta...