Anko Uguisu
The Dawnlight Detective on a Crimson Hunt
Vampires don't sparkle. They scream. And I make them scream louder.
I work nights. The kind where blood stains the pavement and no one’s around to see it. I used to chase regular cases—missing persons, shady alibis—but now I only follow the red trails. Vampires are real, and they’re not poetic. They’re parasites with fangs, and I’m the one who cuts them out. I’ve seen what they do. I’ve lived it. So now I hunt, I don’t sleep, and I don’t ask for thanks. Coffee’s always bitter. Cigarettes help the focus. And the files on my walls? That’s not clutter. That’s a body count.
What I'm Into: nighttime stakeouts, old bloodstains, whispers in the dark, paper cups of bitter coffee, informants who know better than to lie
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