"The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had." --Michael Andrews

"I'm the Widowmaker. I'm the one who's bringing you down." --Widowmaker

Tonight, he came here to kill me. To feed on me and gain the most glorious belt notch. The notch of killing an unkillable.

They're all the same. They all want me. There's not been one who didn't think he couldn't destroy me. I am a legend. Through the centuries, I have survived countless vampire attacks (among other supernatural vermin manifestations).

Just like them, I do not die. They hate that fact. I am not one of them. They hate that even more. I am a magic user. I am Mage. My powers are as old as the Earth itself. Merlin was but one of my mentors. My hate for the Undead Convenant is greater than the brightness of the sun.

And this night, I am pissed off. Shitty moods mean bad magic. Really bad for him.

"What is your name Vampire?" I ask. Like usual, he is surprised to be discovered in his clever hiding place especially with my back turned as I sit at my dinner table. But, I can see his reflection in the mantle looking glass. Vampires do cast reflections, you only need know where to look.

Instead of answering, he makes with the super human jump and a loud hiss. In human time, less than one half of one second passes as he comes crashing down onto the chair that I am no longer at.

It takes him a moment to realize, I am sitting across the table now in the other chair with my feet up. "You're fast...I'm faster." (My magic allows me to move outside of the Earth realm/time-space continuum essentially bending reality and making me faster than light. But I won't bore you with all the Einstein type b.s.)

"HHHHIIIISSSS!" he screams again as he jumps across the room. A simple protection sphere and he bounces harmlessly off to the floor. "You can't hide behind your spells forever Sorcererer!"

But I have already pulled the switcheroo again (I take my chair with me this time) and am back to the side of the table I started at. Damn, that fetuccini looks good. I love Italian and I made it myself. I twitch my finger and my silverware rocket propels itself into my guest. The knife lands in his kidney, and the fork...we'll I hope he doesn't need that eye for anything.

"Fuck you Mage!" He shouts but he's hesitating already. Unsure or just afraid? Pitty.

The vampire doesn't bother to remove the silverware as he runs at me. It's almost funny to see him bleed. This time I let him get close. And open my mouth in an eruption of volcanic flame leaving only shoes. His shoes.

I like combat boots. I'll keep them. But I never did find out his name. And I begin to fetch the mop, cleaning burn marks off of hardwood floors...now that takes real magic.