Matty walked into the monster’s den.

It was significant for what it wasn’t. A bastion of normalcy. No hooks, whips, and chains. No instruments of torture. Just ragged furniture and framed cinema posters adorning the wall.

The monster was a fat man in an airbrushed wolf tee. His gut hung over his waist band. He was balding and had no discernible chin. He spoke with a slight lisp as he eyed Matty hungrily.

“Do you wanna sit down?”

“Sure.” Matty was confident. Demure. Drinking it all in. He sat on the ragged couch and the monster went to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers. He walked over to Matty and presented him one.

“You drink?”

Matty looked at the beer blankly at first before proffering up a smile that exposed the barest glint of a fang.

“You need to get me drunk before you fuck me?”

The monster stood stock still, his pulse starting to race as his body split the difference between anxiety and arousal. “Why….why do you say that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re about to die anyway.”

Kristoffer spun the monster around and lunged at his throat, sinking his fangs deep in the fat man’s jugular and tearing it out. The explosion of gore was prolific. Matty turned his head to the side as his face was pockmarked with crimson.The beers fell from the monster’s grasp and cracked open on the cheap linoleum, intermixing with the shower of blood as the monster fell. Kristoffer went down on his haunches, a predator leering over fresh kill.

“Come drink, Matty.”

LATER…

Matty had fallen asleep on the couch, his small stomach practically a paunch after having his fill. He had passed out in front of The Late Show. Steven Colbert was naturally doing a bit on Trump, but Kristoffer had mostly blocked it out. He was still sitting next to the exsanguinated body of the child predator he and Matty had murdered. Running his hand over the slick of blood on the man’s shirt, Kristoffer studied it by the dim glow of the television. The audience on the TV laughed.

“They call us monsters Michael. But really only one half of that is true.

It’s just you. You’re the monster.”

He flicked the blood off his hand, spattering it on the floor.

“You may think that an inane statement given that I literally have blood on my hands. But let’s take a closer look, shall we? Who’s our respective prey?

Me? I sate my urges on the deserving. Filth. Deviants. Monsters. Like you!

But you? You prey on the weak. You prey on CHILDREN, Michael. You prey on people who can’t defend themselves. And you have a grand old time doing it, don’t you? Predation for laughs. Predation for the hell of it. Predation because you just so happened to spot a broken body at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

Oh, there’s no order to what you do. No grand design. You’re the type of man who flits through life without a plan, fueled by a perverted Id and a smattering of misfiring neurons.. It’s becoming a theme in my career in fact. Putting down dumb animals like you, Michael.

I mean, let’s face facts, if Charlie Nickles couldn’t hack it, what makes you think you can?"

Kris pauses to consider Matty once again. He watches the boy take a breath in his sleep. Kris chances a small smile.

You said “control is an illusion”. And for you, and people like you, of course it is. You have no self control. Because there is nothing you value. Nothing to channel your energy, your drives into. So, you exist as a spastic directionless imbecile. It’s why despite the fact that your career spans nearly a decade, you have so few accolades to show for it. It’s why it took another man wearing your face to achieve ANYTHING AT ALL under the Michael Graves moniker.

Kris licks some of the blood off his fingers.

It’s why you’re going to fall to me.

Because you see Michael, I am the plan. The strict machine. I command an army of thralls at all levels of business and politics. I’m so much more than what I allow you to see. But you? You’ve showed the world your ass more times than we can count. We know what you are. Completely. Utterly. And that should humble you but odds are you’re too brain dead to realize how you’ve exposed yourself.

You’re a a small man, Michael. Broken. Abused. Stupid. Unloved. POWERLESS.

Bow prostrate before me, Michael and embrace the void that has been calling to you your entire life. Sacrifice yourself to the great machine and know finally, in the end, that everything you are and have been has accounted for nothing. No loyalty. No love. Nothing to govern you.

You are the nihil.

The nothing.

And ultimately?

Not even worth consuming."

Kris got to his feet and went to the sink to wash the remainder of the blood off his hands. He called out to Matty as he did so.

“Wake up, Matty. We can’t dither here any longer.”

The boy slowly stirred, his lips parted and he croaked out a single word.

“Dad….?”

Kris paused for a slice of eternity as he contemplated the power of that one simple word. Finally, the vampire willed himself to move closer to Matty.

“No….not dad.” Spoken with a hushed reverence.

Matty’s eyes flickered open lazily. “Wait…what did I say?”

“You….” Kris faltered. “It’s not important.”

But Matty pierced the lie instantly. He canted his head as he sought to shake off his sleepiness. And then he reached up to catch the bead of blood that had escaped Kris’ eye to roll down his cheek.

“Seems important.” Matty said simply.

Kris didn’t reply.