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"Heh, not so tough eh?" Cross said as he separated the body and slide from the gun in his hand. He tossed the pieces in opposite directions and stared down his foe. "Now dontcha think this is a little more fair?"

Zhivago spread his arms to his sides and grinned devilishly. His claws and fangs would be bitter foes this night, each struggling to get to Cross first.

Cross pulled his left arm up and flicked his forearm back, revealing a blade going up it. He held it in front of him and waited.

Zhivago lunged.

Cross stepped aside. The blade along his arm barely moving, cut the vampire's side fiercely with his own momentum. Zhivago slid and turned and faced the hunter as he shot at him with his wrist-mounted crossbow.

The vampire slashed the bolts apart as the flew at him. Cross lowered his arm and cracked his neck. He breathed in deep and ran at the vampire.