*Y/J = your preferred kind of jacket

New York: Motel 

It's around that hour, so Y/N needs to handle this fast before he gets to work. He types furiously on the keyboard as he sends it multiple files all in the same folder before sending it to his friend, hoping he doesn't lose them. He has to make sure everything is correct, no typos found, so despite his brain telling him that he's on a strict timeframe, he double-checks everything before G-mailing it. 

Easy as pie.

Almost right as he finishes, his phone suddenly starts blaring that stupid chicken theme song throughout his room, causing him to quickly shut it off while pocketing in his phone, grumbling. They really should have changed that thing a decade ago, but he guesses a Vampire must be the CEO if they still think it's catchy or something. 

He stands up to walk towards his closet, where his uniform for his job will take place. The color design to make it represent a chicken stands out like a sore thumb, but thankfully, the cold weather outside gives him an excuse to use his jacket tonight, not like he ever leaves the house without it. He grabs it and his jeans on, only to see that the latter is nowhere to be found, that's when he remembered that he hanged it on the coat rack yesterday due to the heavy rain he was ambushed by.

He mentally double checks his room to see if there's anything he's going to forget the second he walks out of the room, before a loud knock attacks his bedroom door. "Y/N! You awake? Dad's looking for you." Y/N hears her sister, Barbara, calling out for him, but the guy pulls a parent move and doesn't respond as he can't help but feel like something is missing. That's when the knocking against again, much louder this time. "Y/N! It's been two hours, dude."

"Okay, okay!" Y/N snappishly responds as he turns around, before finally spotting the lighter he was looking for. He knew he was forgetting something important to him. He then walks over and opens the door, and his sister opens her mouth only to see the getup that he's currently wearing.

"Why the heck are you in that?" She questions him with a raised brow, causing Y/N to roll his eyes since he thought she'd know. "Seriously, doofus? Did you forget to tell your boss earlier like I told you to?"

"I'm not a moron, of course I remember." Y/N retorts with a scoff as he walks past her anyway. "Do you remember that I stay far away from home for a reason, though? Like last year?" 

"That is such bullshit, you can't just-"

Y/N raises a hand the second he steps into the living room, freezing in his place. Sitting at the dining table of the motel room is both his dad and his mom together like they are some kind of happy married couple. His father, he was expecting, as well as his mom. But she, on the other hand, the was that ditched them high and dry to be drink booze with a random punch of horny bikers a few states away, he was secretly hoping would prove him wrong and make him regret not calling for some leave today but showing up. 

"Well, well, well, look who it is." Y/N sarcastically remarks as he leans against the edge of the doorway, causing both of their eyes to fall on him while Barbara glances at him with a raised brow, sensing the obvious acid in his tone. 

"Y/N, honey..." His mom, Eunice L/N, says his name with the same sweet-honey-like voice one would expect a mother would have upon seeing their baby boy who's grown too fast. Y/N's blood boils every time he hears it. "I didn't know you were here."

"Well, sorry to disappoint." Y/N responds with a shrug, though she shouldn't worry too much since he'll be granting that little wish of hers very soon. "You had me worried that you weren't gonna show up." He comments with a seemingly normal voice, but Barbara can see how he delivers it and gives him a look that begs him to stop.

"Oh, trust me, I don't ever plan to missing this day."  Eunice quips with a small chuckle, though Y/N's lips don't curl upward as much as hers does. She stands up and walks forward to give him a hug since it's been a couple weeks, struggling with finding a job and all, but the boy simply brushes past her towards the fridge to grab something like a fruit from the fridge, blatantly not making a move to touch her cooking. All of the other family members share a tense look, but nobody calls him out for it. "How have you been?" The mother asks her, her tone still there.

"Same old, same old..." Y/N responds with a shrug as he closes the fridge and looks for smaller snacks in the cabinets just in case, since he's a bit of a snacker. He eventually finds his favorite candy which he instantly grabs, closing the tiny door casually. 

 "Well, you're still free today, right?" Eunice queries with a hint of pleading hope as Y/N casually bites on his fruit, only looking back at her every other three seconds. "Well, me and your dad were just catching up, we're all planning to head to the theater later after dinner to see that movie Craig was boasting to us about."

"Can't right now."  Y/N informs her in a monotone manner, shaking in his head as he then walks over to the rack to grab his Y/J jacket and head out. "Got work and I'm planning crunch in some overtime to help with rent."

"You know what today is Craig's birthday, Y/N." Eunice then brings up sorrowfully, now sounding a little bit more serious than previously. Y/N instantly freezes the second his late brother's name gets mentioned, slowly turning around with a blank expression. "Both your sister and your father want you here. We..." She cuts herself off, with a sing. "They need you here."

Y/N hums as if actually thinking about, pressing his tongue against his mouth, but it isn't rocket science for him of which decision he's making. "I guess apples like yours don't fall far from the trees, then.... Eunice." He calls her by her informal name before putting on the jacket anyway and walking on.

His dad, Rick, quickly gets up. "Y/N!" He beggingly calls out for him, but Euniece holds him back gently.

"Let him go...."

Y/N slams the door shut behind him, ignoring the voices inside as he walks down the steps and towards his car like it's a simple Monday and he doesn't feel anything at all from the conversation that just happened. Nope, he's a simple, hard-working man with a wage that would have even the poorest person in the world cry if he saw it. 

 His family motel room's door opens a few seconds later, however. "What the hell, Y/N?!" The guy hears Barbara calling out his name with an obvious rage behind in. "Was all of that really freaking necessary."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N questions without glancing back at her. 

"You know what exactly what I'm talking about, you no-filtered asshole!" Barbara calls him out with a snappish tone that begs him to stop with the nonchalant attitude. "You just gave our mom crap in front of everyone, and you have the nerve to walk away from that."

"What? Are you really surprised?" 

"I'm surprised that you seem to think that this is about mom or something, when we both know that this day is about Craig and nobody else-"

"Man, fuck Craig!" Y/N snaps as he rapidly turns his head around to glare at his sister, causing her to freeze and look up at him with a shocked face. "He was the one dissing mom and snapping at us for calling him out on it, do you remember that? Then what does he do? He gets involved with 'bad boys', makes the easy money, and then just.... gives up." He rants at her, throwing his hands into the air. "There's nothing to honor or respect from that, he's a hypocrite. And if he wanted to die that badly, then let him be fucking dead!"

Barbara takes a deep swallow as she can only just stare at the man after delivering those harsh words. She glances down, a few sniffles breaking out, before she looks up to glare daggers at him with wet eyes. "Go fuck yourself, Y/N..."

She then turns around and storms back towards her home, to which Y/N just scoffs as he hops into his car, using his lighter to light up a cigarette before he drives off.

"Yeah, I'll think about it...."

__________________________________________

Theater: Alleyway 

"What do you mean? What happened the seventh guy?"

"Accident, realized what was happening almost immediately and we had to make him disappear at the last minute."

"Well, then, who the hell is going to take his place? We can't just break tradition like that."

"Don't you worry, I know exactly who you're looking for."

"Wait.... are you talking about him?" 

"Don't you remember what he did? Do you have another person in mind.... boss?"

"No, but wouldn't that just hurt the traditional game?"

"Relax, you can get another guy...."

Down in the busy areas, in the flashy lights of the big apple, an interesting crime is about to take place. A woman with brownish skin and medium black hair stands in the mentioned alleyway, leaning against the brick walls where a building close by holds a target that is presumably going to make her and her anonymous partners rich quickly. One would call it taking the easy way out, but when you're left all alone with barely anyway to make ends meet, she calls it a new start.

She reaches into her coat's pocket and pulls out a used popcorn bag holding one out many dum-dum lollipops inside. With her mouth feeling prickly again, she grabs one and slowly puts it on the tip of her tongue, licking the edges of it to ease her physical compulsions before wrapping her lips around it.

Eventually, a van pulls up on the closest end and honks it's horn loudly enough for her to hear, prompting her to look over and see two figures in the front seats wearing all black clothing, just like she is. She takes out the lollipop and wraps the wrapper around it as best she can before stuffing it back into the popcorn bag. During which, she feels these awfully judging holes scanning her like some type of high-end security camera from the passenger seat, making her slightly uncomfortable.

She doesn't show it though and calmly checks and cocks her pistol (I tried looking it up, but every result I get is useless or gives the obviously wrong gun) to make sure it's still ready before tucking it back in her holster. She then walks towards the car while putting her leather gloves on, calmly stepping into the back seat where the passenger's who's daggering eyes she was feeling scan her one more time before tapping on the driver's shoulder to move.

"The temperature okay back there?" The driver, a man with nothing but pure muscle in his body, asks the woman curiously, genuinely wanting to make sure she's comfortable for.... this. "Is it too hot? Too cold? Or....?"

"The temperature's fine." The passenger, the unofficial squad leader of this little gang who is wearing glasses and a short temper, says to the muscle in a way that indicates he should stop glancing at her and focus on the road in front of him. "Just fucking drive." He orders him, and the woman doesn't say anything in response, just opens up her kit and eyes the two sedative syringes she has before closing the lid and tucking them back in her bag.

At one point, the burner phone in the leader's pocket chimes and vibrates, prompting him to pull it out and check it. Seeing what it says, he then taps on the driver's and shows it to him.

New Message: Tiny Dancer is moving

The muscle nods back in response as he turns to the road. "Let's fucking go." He says as he adds a little put more pressure to the medal. The three criminals inside the car put on their respective masks. The woman using a neck gaiter, the leader with the same plus a beanie due to his shorter hair, and the muscle uses the expected ski mask that doesn't cover his mask and eyes. "How do I look?" He asks his passenger, an excited grin on his face, to which the other guy just hums to humor him.

The woman stays as silent as possible, keeping to the terms of professionalism. She doesn't want to say more than she has to, she doesn't want to make the same mistake her partners are already making.

It's already been ten seconds, and she knows them too well.

_________________________________________________

Suburbs: Unknown Residence

Elsewhere, three other black-wearing troublemakers that are in on the same plan stake out at the property of the person they are planning to 'greet' just in case anyone comes home to make an unpredicted surprise visit. A blonde, skinny woman in the passenger seat types faster than the flash on her laptop while the expert driver of this case, bored out of his skull, sits beside her. Eventually, her fast work is rewarded with the view of all the cams reading 'offline'.

"House cameras are down." The hacker informs them, signally to the man sitting in the back that it's his cue to move.

"See y'all on the other side." The man, a guy with an undeniable skill as an expert sharpshooter, quips as he puts on his face mask and opens up the side door to slip out, making sure he doesn't leave his pieces without him. He's going to make sure that nobody sneaks up on their mutual friends, hopefully, without needing to fire a single bullet.

"Yes sir." The bored driver responds as the man shuts the door, watching him run off their the side-view mirrors with the bag holding his rifle in his right hand.

"Eye in the sky." The marksman reports no more than a few minutes later, showing his ability to move fast. "In position."

The expert driver ignores him and turns his head towards his temporary vehicle companion. "They tell you who's house this is?" He asks her curiously, having been left mostly out of the loop on everything except where he's gotta drive. The hacker shakes her head with a hum that says no. "Yeah, me neither...." 

The problem with that is that it usually means the employer is trying to take you along for a ride.

The hacker then checks her GPS, and sees that her tracker is moving out of the ballet-dancing-friendly building, so she sends the other half of the gang the text to let them know that their tiny dancer is on the move. Getting back to her job, she starts logging in every likely pin code she gets, but so far, no luck. "Aw, fuck...." She silently curses to herself as third time does not, in fact, turn out to be the charm.

"So.... you got a boyfriend, or.... something like that?" The expert driver not-so-subtly queries her with an overly curious look, to which the hacker just ignores him, biting on her finger to figure out which number her computer's receiving is the right one. This results in the guy getting even more bored as he decides 'screw it' and turns on his radio to play Glamourous Lifestyle. 

He finally finds his vibe, but the hacker, still failing miserable in her codes, shuts that down almost immediately while giving him a look. The driver sings the last bit of the chorus in awkward silence before rubbing his face with a tired sigh, just wishing there was something more worth it than this.

Eventually, a car drives into a spot and blinks it's headlights right at them before going into parking mode. Thankfully, the hacker finally cracks the code just in time, allowing the other three criminals access into the mansion, and they walk right through the now open gate. The interesting part is now beginning. 

They step into the yard with the muscle carrying the heavy bag, they approach the front door where the hacker taps a few words in so it unlocks itself for them. "Front door is clear." The hacker assures them, and with one twist, the leader pushes the door open without any trouble.

"We're in."

_____________________________________________

Cluckin' Crazy Chicken: Meanwhile

The fast-food establishment is mostly empty around this hour, and yet due to the way the suits handle their hours, the place stays open until four, only to re-open two hours later because apparently people like having chicken for breakfast or something. Y/N wonders if the morning shifts suffer through boredom the same way he does, just with the expectation that it happens in reverse.

With the silence the room brings thanks to absolutely no one being in the room, all Y/N, now all out in his uniform, can really do is eat the free chicken that comes with the benefits of this job while thinking back about what happened at the motel. He knows he was being a complete dick, but how does everyone just act so friendly towards their mom as if she was a drunken whore who made their life shit once upon a time? He's literally the reason they're still able to afford a fucking home, being the sibling who has a job, but time and time again, he feels like the outsider in this entire family, the one who's emotions are 'out of line' or some shit like that.

"Can't believe my luck.... why the heck does everyone have the energy to fight to the death in these places, anyway?" Y/N's one and only co-worker, glasses-wearing ponytailed Ted, grumbles annoyed as he cleans up the feint hint of blood with what you expect a janitor to be using after two agitated customers slammed one into the ceiling while the other left their opponent's head bleeding. "Hey, are you gonna help me over here?" The man looks up at Y/N with a tried face.

"I literally gave you that mop two fucking minutes ago. What do you want me to do? Break it in half?" Y/N responds with a look that's even more mentally exhausted, causing the man to give him a glare but then the restaurant's phone starts ringing before he can argue. "Ah.... yup, there's Lambert again." The apathetic worker notes with a hum, gulping down the last bit of chicken meat.

"How do you know?" Ted questions with a raised brow. 

"Because he always orders at this time on the weekends." Y/N states confidentially after checking his watch. The guy's practically the reason this place still has two of them in the first place, having a guilty pleasure for the grounded bird. He reaches into his pocket and lights up another cigarette with that lighter of his, having L/N Bros engraved on it. He walks over to answer it, but Ted beats him to the punch and swipes it out of his hands. "Hey, let me have it!" 

"Thanks for calling Cluckin' Crazy Chicken, where the food is crazier than the service!" Ted shouts out the slogan before Y/N can try and take it back, causing him to lean against the counter with a sigh. "Can I-?" He tries to speak, but seemingly gets interrupted by whatever the man is saying. His eyebrows drop as he reluctantly takes the phone out of his ear and extends it towards Y/N. "It's for you....." He quietly informs, causing the guy to hum sarcastically before ripping it out of his palm, glaring at him for trying to steal his best tips like that. 

Watching the guy take the hint and scurry away in fear, Y/N puffs up more of this cig before putting the phone on his shoulder with one hand. "Hey there, Mr. Lambert." He greets him with a friendly tone one who knew him wouldn't believe it unless they heard it. "What you got for me?" 

"The usual, please, plus a little extra." Lambert's undeniable smooth and composed voice orders from the other end. Y/N raises his brow at the mention of 'extra'. "Two buckets of the spicy chicken, six orders of fries, and thrown in a few extra biscuits."

"Uh, huh...." Y/N nods as he searches through his breast pocket to pull out a notepad he writes the new stuff down in. "Let me guess, you got a big event going on in which the guests love chicken as much as you do?"

"Something like that...." Lamber half-answers, being somewhat cryptic which makes Y/N jokingly wonder if he's just trying to order an entire buffet for himself without anyone knowing. "Special occasion, nothing formal, but I need something quick, did I mention that I plan to increase the tip by twenty-percent tonight?"

"You got it." Y/N almost instantly assures it done with a bright grin as he writes Lamber's name it before hanging up the phone. Tonight's going to be a good one. He walks over and puts the chicken, biscuits, and fries into the exact number of to-go boxes with his non-smoking hand. Right after he slaps the order slip on one of them right as the manager walks in from his office where he immediately detects a strange smell.

"Excuse me, Mr. L/N?" The manager, Mr. Peterson, a wiry man with thinning hair, loudly announces his name, rapidly blinking when Y/N doesn't respond as he's closing up the lids. "Mr. L/N!" He says it again with more impatience, finally making the guy turn his head towards him. "Is that a cigarette in your mouth?"

Y/N blinks before taking his piece of tobacco out and glancing at it. "No." He responds sarcastically as he gives the guy a snarky look. "It's your dick." 

The manager blinks, obviously offended at that brash choice of words. But seriously, in Y/N's mind, what the fuck did he think it was? At least just scold him about it like every English teacher who sees a phone does. "You mind putting it out please? This instant!?" Peterson requests impatiently, to which the guy blows some smoke out before tossing it and stomping it on the dirty floor with his foot, still finding a way to be a little shit about it. This makes his boss take in a deep seething breath. "I don't think I like your attitude, mister." He comments as he writes this down on his clip board, giving his employee a look when he walks past him. "Not one bit..."

"Oh, really? That's a surprising thing to hear..." Y/N responds cynically as he grabs his Y/J jacket and puts his arm in one of the sleeves, ready to take the order himself for a check that will actually pay him for once. "Guess that makes two of us, manager."

"He was being verbally abusive to me, Mr. Peterson!" Ted accuses Y/N with a point to his face, to which the co-worker uncaringly shoves him aside to reward his pathetic attempt to cause a scene in the middle of nowhere. Yet, still doesn't care that he's doing this right in front of the manager himself.

"Where do you think you're going, huh?!" Peterson questions the guy trying to leave, causing Y/N to sigh as he turns around to face them, thinking that the to-go boxes were a pretty clear indication as to what. "You think you can just act like this and walk away?"

"I'm going to deliver Mr. Lambert his food." Y/N informs him with a tired voice, trying to show that he's still going to do his damn job in spite of whatever they think of him. "You don't want me to miss that kind of order, do you?"

Peterson lets out a tense exhale since he knows he can't say 'no' to that, clenching his jaw. "We're going to have a talk about your attitude. I don't care how many managers you've gone through, it is not acceptable." He tells Y/N as he slams his clipboard on the counter, to which the guy rolls his eyes as he heads towards the door. "Now when you're done, you make sure you come on right back here, understood?"

"You want a better attitude?" Y/N snaps as he stops and turns back around and gives the two pains-in-his-ass a fed up glare. "About I drive that truck into the fucking river, grab a rope, and then fucking hang myself. You prefer I do that?" He questions him while putting his other arm in the sleeve before walking out without hearing a response from Peterson, leaving the two other servants of chicken honestly stunned by his lack of filter.

Y/N lets out a massive exhale as he steps out into the cold night, walking into the near-empty parking lot where he uses his gifted keys to unlock the Crazy Chicken's truck and sit his butt inside. It would be called a car to fit the name if it wasn't tall enough to tear into a parking garage way too short for it.

When he kicks the vehicle into gear, the chicken on the roof's eyes glow red as the engine revs itself up. 

Time to go into the middle of nowhere.....

_______________________________________

(A/N) Here's the first real chapter!

Now that this one's much longer than the prologue, I can now say thank you for reading this. I guess you're all able to tell who my celebrity crush is now, judging by this book. I know that the prologue was less than a thousand words wrong, but it was merely to set the tone while also setting up Y/N's backstory and some weapons that he'll be using to kill Vampires later in this book.

I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible, since this one kind of had only had four (though admittedly bigger than I was expecting) scenes in it. I'm trying to set up the subtle but clear connection between Joey and Y/N that will make their subplot make sense later down the line.

Anyway, plz vote and comment, any kind counts as feedback, and I'll see you all in the next one!