MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Half way around the world, a man trudged on through the snow with a bag of groceries and a work suitcase in his hand.

The suburban street lay silent under the thick blanket of snow, the only sound the muffled crunch of footsteps as this man trudged along. His breath hung in the frosty air, tendrils of vapor dissipating into the night.

Despite the serene landscape, a sense of unease gnawed at the man's nerves, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck that refused to be ignored. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to find someone lurking in the shadows, but the street behind him remained empty.

Heart pounding, he quickened his pace, each step a desperate bid to outrun the invisible specter haunting his every move. Yet, no matter how fast he walked, the feeling of being watched persisted, a relentless shadow dogging his every step.

He looked back one more time and could see a tall, huge bulking man with a hat trudging through the snow, following closely behind him. Immediately the man dropped his groceries and took off out of fear.

Fortunately, his house wasn't far from the corner so he throttles towards it on both legs.

Finally reaching the corner, the man veered sharply, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he sprinted towards the safety of his home. With trembling hands, he fumbled for his keys, adrenaline-fueled panic lending urgency to his movements.

As the door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him with a resounding thud. Leaning against the solid wood, he sucked in lungfuls of air, heart still hammering in his chest.

But there was no time to catch his breath. With practiced precision, he crossed the room to the fireplace, fingers deftly finding purchase on a hidden latch concealed behind a painting. With a soft click, a hidden compartment opened, revealing a gleaming shotgun nestled within.

Clutching the weapon tightly, the man approached the window, peering out into the darkness with wary eyes. Relief washed over him as he scanned the empty street, the ominous figure from before nowhere to be seen.

Just as he began to relax, a chill crept down his spine, a premonition of impending danger. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around, only to come face to face with three towering figures looming in the darkness, their eyes glowing like fiery embers in the night.

Fear clenched his heart in an icy grip as realization dawned—the nightmare was far from over.

The man's heart pounded in his chest as a sharp breeze sent a shiver down his spine. Suddenly, one of the three figures with glowing eyes materialized right in front of him, eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity.

In a swift motion, the figure seized the man's shotgun, his grip unnaturally strong and then oddly, this figure maneuvered the barrel towards their own chest.

"Shoot," the figure commanded, staring straight at the man's eyes with a voice as chilling as the winter wind.

Without a moment's hesitation, the man pulled the trigger, the deafening blast echoing through the room as the figure took the shot straight to the chest. Yet, to the man's disbelief, the figure remained standing, the dark coat now marred by a gaping hole.

"See? Now you've ruined my best suit!" the figure exclaimed, his tone dripping with annoyance as he inspected the damage.

Another one of the figures stepped forward, his imposing presence radiating a sense of authority. He placed a hand on Gunther's shoulder, his touch gentle yet commanding. "That's enough, Gunther. Don't get our friend here all worked up," he said, his voice firm but soothing.

"I'm Reggie, and these are my brothers, Gunther, who you just met, and of course, there's Randal," Reggie introduced, extending his hand for a handshake, his demeanor calm and composed.

However, Rico remained frozen in place, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. Despite Reggie's attempt at friendly introductions, Rico couldn't shake the sense of dread that gripped him.

"It's fine, Mr. Rico. Rico Santiago, right?" Reggie said, his gaze piercing as he locked eyes with Rico, his expression unreadable.

Rico nodded slowly, his grip tightening on the gun as Reggie approached him. As Reggie pushed Randal back, Rico's heart raced with apprehension, unsure of what was to come.

"You... I know you. What do you want from me? What have I done?!" Rico demanded, his voice quivering with a mixture of fear and defiance as he pointed the gun at Reggie.

Reggie's response was calm and measured. "It's alright, Rico. You're right to be scared. But I thought you'd know by now that...that thing in your hand is useless," he said, his words carrying a weight of undeniable truth.

In a blink of an eye, Rico watched in astonishment as the gun disappeared from his hand and reappeared in Reggie's grip.

"Humans, you know, I never really understood you guys. How can you rely on something so loud and ...useless?" Reggie mused, his tone tinged with curiosity as he examined the gun with a critical eye. With a swift motion, he squeezed the barrel with his hand, effectively sealing off the hole where the bullet would come out.

"I don't mind you using it again, as you've seen with Gunther on your first try, it wouldn't do much to me, too. But I can't risk my own suit, you know?," Reggie remarked with a smile, handing the gun back to Rico with a warm gesture.

"What are you people doing in my house?!" Rico demanded, his voice laced with fear as he pointed the gun at Reggie. However, he quickly dropped it, realizing the futility and stupidity of the gesture.

Randal, who had been observing silently from the sidelines, interjected with a sly grin. "Ah, he's a fast learner," he remarked, his tone laced with amusement as he sauntered closer to Rico, his presence exuding an unmistakable aura of danger.

Amongst the three men, Rico could sense a higher level of danger emanating from Randal. There was something about his calm demeanor that sent shivers down Rico's spine, reminiscent of the sociopaths and serial killers portrayed in the TV shows he used to watch. Randal seemed to fit perfectly into that sinister archetype, his unsettling calmness contrasting sharply with his devilish good looks.

In fact, all three intruders possessed an otherworldly beauty that seemed almost unnatural.

"Now, you might want to take a seat, boy. What am I even saying? It's your house, won't you offer us a seat and maybe a drink?" Randal quipped with a cheeky grin, his words tinged with a sense of ominous charm.

Rico stood there, utterly flustered. What was happening? Since when did intruders break in and casually request refreshments? But deep down, he knew this wasn't a typical break-in. The presence of Reggie, whom he recognized, dispelled any notion of this being a mere robbery. It was something more sinister, something far worse.

"Well, get the drinks and be snappy about it. And don't think you won't pay for my suit," Gunther ordered, his tone authoritative and unsettling.

Rico hurried to obey, his heart pounding in his chest as he retrieved three bottles of beer from the fridge. Closing the refrigerator door, he glanced back to see all three men seated comfortably on his couch, casually removing their hats. Their nonchalant demeanor was unnerving; it was as if they didn't care what he did as long as he fulfilled their demands.

This level of confidence was unheard of, and while Rico entertained thoughts of defiance, a sense of dread gripped him, warning him against any rash actions. Risky thoughts of escaping or calling for help ran through his head but something told him he wouldn't even live to regret his actions should be go ahead with it.

With a reluctant sigh and fear guiding his steps, he returned to the living room with the beer bottles and handed one to each of the men. Gunther, the most unhinged looking one of the three, motioned for Rico to come and sit by his side, a command Rico dared not disobey.

"I'm sure you remember me from the casino at Masked Haven. You and your boys organized and shot at my boss and myself that night. I even lost a custom design suit my boss had gifted me," Reggie started.

"I'm sorry. But that happened a long time ago and we already suffered enough. I went to prison, got released six months ago, and I even relocated and left the country. Haven't I suffered enough?" Rico explained his case.

"Hmmm. Well, considering you live in this nice house and you have a new job, I'd say not quite, so stop being dramatic," Gunther said, patting Rico on his shoulders.

However, to Rico, it felt like being whacked with a baseball bat.

"So you relocated here, to Russia. What were you thinking? That we wouldn't find you?" Gunther's voice was laced with a menacing undertone as he downed his beer, fixing his gaze on Rico, awaiting a response.

Rico felt the weight of Gunther's stare like a physical pressure, suffocating and oppressive.

"It's not that. I was simply searching for a new life. Far away from your boss, Rose Shelly. That woman single-handedly ruined my life," Rico explained, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

But Gunther's dismissive laughter echoed in the room, cutting through Rico's feeble defense.

"No, you ruined your own life when you tried to kill us that night. Now tell me why you decided to take revenge by kidnapping Blake Shelton, the man with Rose on that fateful night of our encounter?" Reggie's question hung in the air, demanding an answer.