@thewizardguy@Heretic@Kazemitsu@Wraithblade6@Remipa Awesome@BlackPanther@ayzrules (I uh, I forgot tags, >_>)

@Shikaru

Vance, huh? It was small, small, small... far too small a place to be the site of such a grand event. But perhaps it was the best place after all. Every great tree grew from a tiny seed, and an explosion that levelled cities was caused by mere atoms. All the best things began small, and naturally grew over time. And a conquest that would one day overwhelm the world itself, the same rule would most certainly apply. A tiny little town, but it was only the start. A staging point, a starting block, the place where this all started. In a hundred years when people asked 'where did it all go wrong?' this would be the answer. The town of Vance. Something better to be known for than it's atrocious cooking and ugly people.

Smiling, Johnathan considered this rosy future over a goblet of red wine. Strange what things he had kept from his time as a human, even now he preferred wine over blood. Perhaps because wine had so much more variety, so much more quality. He looked out over the town's streets, as he considered how to enact a most brutal act. To capture a member of the Covenant alive, and to bring him to Magnus. Why his boss had taken an interest in this particular soldier Johnathan couldn't imagine, but it was his duty as an unquestioning servant to fulfil his master's every order. And for now he would be the image of the perfect servant, a teacher's pet who would do anything for his glorious lord and master. Up until the very second he drove in the knife.

But what a troublesome request this was. There was nothing the Covenant excelled in more than secrecy. Finding something as large as a base had been hard enough, let alone something as small as a single person. An insignificant cog in the machine, whom he was supposed to find based on nothing more than a name. To give an order such as that as if it were a small task... truly, this was the next level of the game. Here mere competence would not be enough, just being excellent would not suffice. No, he would need to be perfect. A perfect plan, executed by perfect soldiers, against the perfect target. The thought made Johnathan's heart race, he could not suppress the manic smile that came to his face. The thought that one mistake would get him killed, that he was playing a game for the fate of the world itself... oh, it was almost more than he could bear.

In order to pull this off he would need to gain access to the Covenant's records, direct access to someone in charge. The kind of person who didn't go into the field. Luckily he knew the location of a small base, which was exactly the kind of place he needed. Now infiltrating this place was out of the question, the Covenant were obsessive. No vampire or thrall could get inside. And no pure human connected to Johnathan would be able to make it past the background check. A stealth mission, in and out, was a definite possibility. But the Covenant were a suspicious lot, and had extensive security measures in all of their facilities. Even a relatively small one like this. Besides, such a subtle move wouldn't make the right... statement. Vampires weren't the ones who needed to skulk around in darkness, hiding from the light. That was the act of the weak, of those who feared exposure. It was their enemies who should be hiding, who should be sneaking. They were the ones who should be afraid. That was the message he would send.

Glancing backwards, he saw the troops he had prepared. Elite soldiers from his day in the field, highly trained and experienced. They had fought in battlefields across the world, and each was deeply loyal to Johnathan. These were his elite, the troops he had chosen to become the first Death Troopers. A new kind of soldier, for a new age. With a smile, he gave the order. "Storm the base. Capture as many of them as possible, I need them alive. Eliminate any and all resistance." As he turned back to his view of the street, he could barely hear them leaving the room even with his vampiric hearing. Without fail, they would get the job done. His plan was flawless, his troops without equal, and his enemy was weak. This would be the start. From his dreams and ambitions he would make a seed, to be watered with the blood of his enemies. And he would grow a tree for the whole world to see.

---

A single figure walked down the street, clad in black armour. Plates of shiny black material covered him like a beetle's carapace, and a smooth black mask obscured his face. With a fluidity and grace impossible from a human this figure moved forward, carrying a large case. Looking over the building, they confirmed what they already knew. This was the place. Already, several watchful individuals were walking in, presumably to warn the people inside. The armoured stranger didn't care, their warning wouldn't matter. Opening the package he took out what was inside. The flamboyantly named Red Harvest, an experimental weapon designed specifically for vampire combat. It looked like nothing more than a very large pipe, with several handholds. Raising it to his shoulder, the stranger took a moment to aim. A moment longer than was necessary. Faintly, he could already hear the alarms going off beneath the ground. No doubt they were preparing for an assault. He could hear the civilians around him panicking, shouting at him. He could hear the police officer who had just arrived demanding that he put down the weapon, that he surrender quietly. But this was not the time for peaceful solutions. After all, he had his orders.

With a boom like thunder amplified the Red Harvest fired, a high-powered rocket exploding forth from the end of the weapon. It exploded on impact, an even louder sound echoing through the city as most of the building was engulfed in a ball of flame. Shrapnel spread through the street, slicing apart unfortunate civilians. Screaming and shouting and crying, the police officer frantically calling for backup, the sound of sirens in the distance. Other black-armoured figures stepped from the shadows, and made their way over to the building. They walked through the fire and the panic without issue. Bullets plinked harmlessly off one's armour, before the cop realised the futility of his effort and fled. One of the figures in the lead leaned down and ripped open a metal hatch leading down. Down to the Covenant base, which had been thought to be so secure. A gas grenade was dropped down, a toxic combination which would soon incapacitate anyone who breathed it in. Foolish vampire hunters were used to tooth and claw, not to a military attack. Obscured by the gas the Death Troopers dropped down into the base, readying their weaponry.

None would escape their wrath. Those who claimed to be hunters would themselves be hunted down, subdued, and rounded up like cattle. A new age was about to dawn on this world, and they were the heralds. A mere ten figured moved down into the Covenant base, ten Death Troopers armed and armoured in the newest in military technology. But how could mere humans stand up to even ten of these new super soldiers?

---

Outside the town, an army was prepared. The entire town was surrounded, vampire newbloods in fancy uniforms stood at the ready. It turned out that supernatural reflexes and vision made one an excellent gunner. Not Death Troopers, but makeshift soldiers nonetheless. Johnathan had gone through a bunch of effort preparing matching uniforms, but it made for an impressive sight as they all stood there. Black and red uniforms reminiscent of the uniforms from the napoleonic wars. But the guns they held weren't muskets, but rather high-grade rifles. There weren't enough of the high-powered prototype weapons to hand out, but even with just normal firearms they were a force to be feared. And to keep the grunts in line, four of Johnathan's elite Death Troopers had been deployed as well. One for each of the smaller forces, placed at the four major roads entering the city. Any civilians that attempted to move in or out were apprehended and captured, to be escorted to previously prepared trucks and hauled off for confinement. After all, in a vampire war, blood was an important resource.

The explosion rang out over the houses, even from here that flash of light could be seen. Simultaneously each of the four Death Troopers gestured for their forces to stand ready. When they marched it was in ranks, proudly stepping forward as they flew a crimson banner. Those cops that stood in their way were swiftly dealt with, as they declared their demands. Civilians were gathered, sniffed out by superior senses and organised search patterns. Again they were loaded up and moved away. Women, children, beggars, everyone was taken in a rapid and efficient collection effort. Unprepared civilians had no way to protect themselves from such a large-scale and forceful incursion, and those police forces that did try to resist were swiftly dealt with.

Unless the Covenant was able to deal with the Death Troopers and escape from their base, the town would be rapidly conquered. And even if they did escape, without reinforcements how could they even hope to best such odds? Already these forces guarded every exit from the town, noone would be allowed to leave. And already the four Death Troopers outside the base were preparing to deal with any new opponents, heavy weapons being unpacked and readied even as caltrops and mines were placed on the major entrances. Like a well-trained army these vampires began to fortify the town, and in less than an hour considerable defences had already been prepared.

This was how Johnathan would change the war between vampires and humans. This was how he would show the superiority of vampire-kind.

The thrill of hunting a few deer was wearing off. The content feeling of being full remained and allowed him to walk through the small town without contemplating eating any of them. He did this for every town he ended up in when the covenant requested him. The small town vibe was much more comfortable for him, but he tried not to get attached being the covenants wolf in sheeps clothing so to speak.

Vladimir continued to wander, finding himself enjoying the night when choas started. He took the opportunity to go into an alleyway where he could hide in the shadows. This might be considered a coward move, but he was listening. Absorbing information whilst waiting for the moment to strike. Pirate thinking taking over. Fighting fair being overrated.

A quick flare and inhale told him there was a large amount of vampires. The sounds told Vladimir that they were capturing the town people and blocking on the town. Being a rather small covenant base meant they wouldn't get much reward from this, but all wars tended to start small. Though pirates never cared for wars. He tilted his head before slowly leaving the alley.

His steps were silent, old yet well taken care of pirate boots making no noise. They clashed with the pack jeans and black shirt, but his boots were comfortable. Cool grey eyes seemed to hold a look of boredom as he went and stood in the center. "I'm guessing this is a revolution no?" his voice held no accent even though his Russian roots were strong.

Vladimir hadn't had a raised voice, but knew the vampires would hear him. Those close enough would smell him. Usually the younger ones did not know what that smell meant...think it meant strictly werewolf they would underestimate him. Being full also meant no chance of blood lust affecting any battle he would have in the next few moments.

A head tilt as he studied those closest. "And quite the interesting way to go about it. Military style instead of the usual monster style. I wonder whom the leader of this is?" He almost sounded like he was toying with them.

Tristan gave a big yawn of boredom as he lounged on air. His perfect balance keeping him aloft in a sitting position while he watched his fellow vampires roam through the small town. Blocking entrances and exits, capturing humans, and even gunning for the Covenant outpost. "So he's finally making a move..." He murmured while his jacket fluttered in the mild breeze. Those crimson eyes were half-lidded as he watched, no real skill presenting itself down there. Guns, technology, vehicles, enough metal to make him scowl.

"What ever happened to being up close and personal. Watching the light fade from your enemies eyes, the fleeting emotions of the soon to be dead." He exclaimed, clearly not happy with how things were progressing. He had little honor but he still preferred melee combat to taking pot shots hundreds of feet away. There was no sport in it! It was like humans sniping lions and acting like it was a big triumph when they bagged the completely unawares animal. Because that's what humans were, animals with slightly higher brain functions.

Rolling his shoulders and crackling his neck, the ancient vampire seemingly vanished in a puff of smoke. A few puffs later and he was on the street slightly crouched as if landing from a high jump. Soldiers on one side of him, on the other side was what appeared to be a normal man with the whiff of lycan about him. Rising up he only looked at the man from the corner of his eye while the leather creaked from the movement. "I'd advise you to continue on your way, boy." He said. His voice is like the sound at the bottom of a well. Deep, rough, and lost. A single flick of his wrist and a long dull colored blade was in his hand, what was classed as a short sword. But to the giant towering over everyone, it was a dagger.

"Let the culling of humanity continue." He continued as he turned to the pirate booted lycan. The dull look vanished briefly from those crimson orbs. Revealing the desire for bloodshed, the primal urge of one from ages past to cause death. This was not a being made for the peaceful world and the weight of ages surrounded him. It seemed this was the only warning, something Tristan rarely did. But lycans deserved at least a warning, puppies need not be abused. Merely...disciplined.

@BlackPanther@Kazemitsu

The appearance of a stranger, and then an ally. The vampiric soldiers immediately backed away from the duo, assault rifles aimed at them. It was clear these two were no small-fry, and these newbloods had been quite extensively informed how to handle these situations. While they kept their guns on the scene they had no intention of interfering unless necessary, and several of them retrieved walky-talkies to report the event. Other vampires would have heard it, but they continued in their tasks. An incident like this was no reason to halt the process, which needed to be performed with the greatest efficiency possible. People such as Tristan existed to take care of situations like this, and if this enemy was too dangerous for even Tristan then there was plenty of fire support nearby.

Having been made aware of the situation, Johnathan simply made another call. At a time like this the enemy's most powerful servants would begin arriving, the worthy ones. Those that rose above the status of canon fodder, and made a claim to glory. Rising stars reaching for the sky, those who did not know their true place. A perfect opportunity to test out his new servants. And as such another one of the Death Troopers had been dispatched to take care of the situation. Assuming Tristan himself didn't handle it before reinforcements arrived. That man was hard to tame, but a formidable servant. As long as he served Johnathan's ends, he would be allowed to continue his little Wild Card act. It was often a bad idea, after all, to try and teach an old vampire new tricks.

"Deputy Reynolds, thanks for meeting me here." Carolyn walked up to the uniformed officer, shaking his hand as they exchanged pleasantries.

"No need to thank me, I'm just doing my job. You're the one on call," he pointed out.

Carolyn laughed. "Yeah, you're right. So anyway, these guys have hit the three-strike mark. I'm not even sure how many times we've warned them to follow proper dumping protocol before that, yet they've ignored us each and every single time." Carolyn motioned for Deputy Reynolds to follow her around to the side of the building. "That grass hasn't been green in I don't know how long, and as you may or may not know, discoloration is a sign of violation, especially since we have the paper trail. If you would be so kind as to draft a quick report for me, I can handle the rest of the paperwork so we can begin the termination process."

"No cease and desist letter?" he inquired, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a small notepad.

"We're beyond that," Carolyn added. She reached for her binder in her bag when Deputy Reynold's radio went off. He put a finger up and walked away from her to better hear the transmission. A moment later, he returned, his face an indicator that something big had occurred.

"Carolyn, you need to get out of here," he said to her, pointing to the back of the building.

"But what about—?"

"Go!"

Carolyn's heart suddenly started to beat quicker. Something this urgent only meant one thing...

Damn!

She dropped everything and took off for the clearing behind the building. Hopefully she would get home on time, if that was even an option given her distance.

Vladimir turned and glanced at the newcomer. "Boy? That's the best compliment I've gotten" the turn had caused a glint to make its way from his earring. Something he knew happened and didn't care about. He gave a glance at the sword and raised a brow. He seemed overall....unimpressed.

Vladimir managed a half smile at the next statement from the clearly old vampire. "oh advise" his arms crossed. "Let it continue you say. The problem is...I can't do that. Though I'm surprised you're talking to me this way....must mean you haven't figured out correctly what I am" his own eyes flickered red for a moment before returning to their cool grey. Though only his right eye was visible as the streak of white on his hair covered thebother.

"oh and if it's bloodshed from me you want I can tell you that my blood isn't of the shedding type." He didn't make any move to grab the dagger that was contained in his boot. His visible eye instead remained locked on tristen. Unafraid and almost...bored looking. He could hear the other soldiers and had a feeling he was in for a fight...but that didn't mean he had to make it fun. Well...he would for himself anyway.

@Kazemitsu@thewizardguy

Tristan gave the barest shrug of his shoulders. "You're a boy, a child, to me. It'll be the most civilized insult you'll get." He stated as his eyes started to brighten from their normal dull sheen. He took note of the sudden change in color of the other mans eyes, which got Tristan's lips to quirk up slightly. "Lycan...and Vampire? Normally those end up twisted creatures that rarely survive their first months never mind years." He said as he finally turned fully to Vladimir.

"I personally don't want to shed your blood unless it's just a fun fight. But you're siding with the humans against your own kind. Even if you are a half-blood." He growled as another flick landed second blade in his free hand. This one was just as dull colored as the first but had three times the length with a wicked looking serrated edge. "I very rarely give a second warning. Leave." He growled while slowly crouching down into a readied stance. The swords gave off a soft shine, the weapons clearly iron and well taken care of.

A figure wearing a heavy trench coat, body armor, and a military grade gas mask walked into the Abandoned warehouse. People have been going missing from the local town for weeks now. Hank figured it was a vampire trying to find a steady blood supply, or a human who was trying to become a vampire with out the help of a vampire. It has happened before, and he wasn't too pleased to have to fix that too. In his right hand he had his machete drawn. It's three foot reinforced blade, sharp enough to cut off fingers just from tapping it too hard. It was great for dealing with anything that tried to get close. He had other odds and ends, the most notable being the sawed off shotgun, the fold away hatchet, and his revolver loaded with silver coated hollow point rounds. He had a flame thrower a few weeks back, but after it was struck in combat he learned that a fire resistant coat only does so much. The gas mask is more for show now, he used to use some chemical weapons but that caused just as many issues as it helped.

Inside the warehouse it was mostly empty, a few crates here and there, some shelves, the one office like room on the other end. And the rafters above. He had learned that fresh new-bloods tended to stay in places like the office, ones that have been around for a bit tended to hide in the rafter, knowing that humans have a lot more trouble getting up there, then back down. "I know you're in here. You know I am here. So this can go one of two ways, we duke this out now or you wait until the covenant deal with you." He kept his eyes out, still unsure of what to make of his current target. "Go away, or I will kill you too!" Male voice, scared, he knew what Hank was. A hunter, a human who has devoted his life to killing the monsters of the world. Even new-bloods could smell the aged blood on his blade, even if it had been cleaned repetitively.

Hank didn't respond to the threats he was receiving. This was a new-blood, they were ignorant, they thought they were all powerful, they didn't understand how things worked. Anyone that knew what to look for could tell that Hank's walking was different then a lot of people. He commonly took side steps to through off anything with speed abilities, he constantly turned directions, He would casually swing his blade to keep anyone who may be messing with his vision away from him, he made sure everything he needed was in arms rea-- "BOOM!" Hank was sent flying onto the ground. "Dammit..." He gasped as he tried to get up. He came tot he conclusion that he had been shot with something big. Not a rifle, that would have cut through his armor easily. Shotgun maybe? Loaded with bird shot it might have still been stopped by his vest. "HA! Bitch! How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?!" his foe shouted with a voice of confidence.

He could see his target now, young, even by human standards. And in his hands a single shot shotgun. Looks like it wasn't reloaded yet. Teenagers, out of most of the new-bloods he had faced they tended to go that way more often then not. He felt bad for what had happened to him, Hank figured that it was some kind of power play from another vampire, or maybe just wrong place wrong time. Either way, he was a threat.

The vampire was on top of him now, reloading the gun. His vest was cracked, maybe some of his ribs too. He wouldn't be able to get that lucky again if he was shot again. Hank swung his blade removing both feet of the new blood, by this time though he had reloaded. Hank had time to get up now though, and that was all he needed to get the job done. "Mother f-" His voice was cut off as Hank grabbed the gun, pointing it away from him using his free hand, then bringing the blade down on one of the new-blood's arms. The gun was useless to him now, and with out legs he was just another target. He tried frantically to beg for his life, Hank at this point had gotten used to drowning out the pleas for help and mercy. He did his best to make the cut as clean as possible, removing the head, then landing his blade into the skull again.

Nothing moved for what seemed like hours to Hank. His job was done, until he heard noises coming from the office. Another one he thought. His body was in a lot of pain now though, he didn't have much left in him. So he grabbed his shotgun, still leaving the machete in one hand, then walked to the office. Inside he didn't see anything yet, just some old cabinets, a couple desks, and a sleeping bag. He could hear the whimpering though, something small maybe. Hank made it over to one of the desks, underneath it he saw the source of the noise.

Underneath was a small child, who looked a lot like the vampire he had just killed, only a lot younger, and he was human. Not a food bag either, just living with his family. "God dammit." Hank mumbled. The child started to cry as he got a look of Hank, covered in blood, trench coat and gas mask, and no signs of his family member.

Hank left the child, crying out of fear and what was happening. Hank only stopped once he was outside to grab his phone. He called the police on a prepaid phone to tell them he had heard gunshots from the warehouse outside of town. After he made the call he hung up and split the phone in half, pocketing both halves until he was miles away from the warehouse, then he tossed both bits into the woods by the road. Hank hated his job, but he knew someone had to do it, and there was only so much people like the covenant could do. So Hank did his job, and he moved on. Heading back to his RV to find his next job.

There was a lot of chatter on covenant frequencies. He had still no luck on breaking them, so all he could do was pay attention to the news, old military intelligence, and police channels until he got something he could use. Maybe he'd find a doctor for his ribs too, or just see if he could pull together a new vest he could use for his next job. Ribs healed, dead people didn't.

Vladimir gave a soft chuckle. Child and boy simply were not insults to him. Never were and they never would be. "Clearly in special. Considering it's been centuries." Ah that got the guy to turn toward him. Lovely.

Vlad's posture was clearly of one not remotely threatened by the man in front of him. A brow raised. "I have never been your kind vampyre. I am both and yet neither. As for the humans....you are dragging off my coworkers and that just happens to bother me" He knew the blades were iron. That didn't really matter to him. Made things more interesting sure...but he's been stabbed by iron before. Frankly, he hasn't cared about living for a long time. It was why he was so good at what he did...not caring about ones life meant a whole lot less caution...along with a lot less likelihood of giving anything away.

His head tilted. "I do wonder though...why would you cull your food source? After all if they all die you've got nothing to leech on but animals. If you breed them that will probably just spread disease" Vlad shrugged. "It doesn't sound very thought out to me...then again I'm not your kind so what do I know" He was experimenting. He just needed to expose the flesh to the light. After awhile even the oldest vampire would get uncomfortable.

Tristan gave a snort while shaking his head slowly. "It's not a matter of special. Sometimes I just feel generous and give warning." He stated before vanishing in a wisp of smoke only to appear right in Vlad's face. "You're half vampire, boy. Don't deny a portion of your heritage even if others deny you." He growled out before vanishing again and appearing a little ways away. The smoke had no smell whatsoever, it seemed to just be an effect of this unique ability.

The older vampire just gave a brief smile at the mention of the half-breeds co-workers. "I haven't been into town, so I don't particularly know what is happening to your Covenant." He stated before his eyes darkened briefly. "As for the culling...your food should not be more dangerous than you are. It should not be able to swarm over you like insects. Humans have spread to far to fast and are, simply put, to fucking destructive." He snarled before gesturing to the town. "How many forests and animals were wiped out to build this single town? I might not be a lover of nature but even I cherish the planet I was put on." He explained before his hand flickered.

The shortsword he had held was launched towards Vlad's body in a blinding display of speed. "Humanity needs to be put in its place and it needs to be done now. Our people have been far to fucking kind to them to let them spread like cockroaches." Tristan finished as another blade appeared within his grip.

Three months ago...

Snow was falling. Eloise was shivering violently, soaked to the skin. Her thin cloak and worn shoes did nothing to keep the cold out.

She stumbled through the howling wind, an empty bucket grasped in her numb fingers. Mistress wanted a bath, she said. So a bath Eloise was drawing, and she knew she that Mistress would hurt her later on, because she was too slow.

Eloise grimaced. She was always too slow.

By some miracle, the snow had subsided to a light flurry by the time that Eloise reached the well. She was hungry, so very hungry. The hunger gnawed at her stomach, which was cramping painfully, and she felt the emptiness ricochet through her gut. Every time she passed the house of one of the villagers-there was the widowed midwife's cottage, and just past that was the butcher's brother, and past that was the tailor-Eloise felt dizzy and lightheaded. The faint smell of human blood was driving Eloise insane, but she could not-could not-disobey Mistress, even if she had wanted to.

Eloise filled her bucket with water from the well. She was turning away, ready to make the trek back to where Mistress was staying, when the smell of human blood became so strong that Eloise dropped to her knees, water sloshing out of the bucket as she fell. Her fangs elongated on instinct, and Eloise gasped at the sensation.

Her vision was filled with stars, but even so, she still recognized Sarah, approaching at a brisk pace. The smell of her blood hit her again, and Eloise crumpled in a heap in the snow.

"Sarah," she breathed, and for one single, glorious moment, she wasn't covered in bruises and her body didn't hurt all over and she wasn't ravenously hungry. All that mattered was Sarah's concerned brown eyes staring down at her.

"Eloise-what? We all thought you were dead; where have you been? What-what happened to you?" Sarah's face was inches from Eloise's.

And then Sarah saw the fangs. "Sarah, please, help me," begged Eloise, tears welling up in her eyes, but Sarah was already backing away in horror.

"Eloise-I'm sorry-I can't be...I can't be around you anymore-" and just like that, she was gone.

But Eloise stayed there in the snow, the cold numbing the pain in her bones and in her heart. And slowly, she lost consciousness...

...and when she woke up, there was nothing but darkness and the quiet sounds of rats scurrying to and fro.

Eloise would have groaned out loud, but she hadn't used her vocal chords in so long that she doesn't know if they still worked or not. She would have wept, but she didn't have the energy to.

She shifted slightly, ignoring the way that the chains chafed at her raw, bloody wrists. Eloise rested the side of her face-bloody and bruised, yes, but it didn't really hurt anymore, thanks to Mistress, who was possibly dead-and lay very, very still. It was not a particularly trying task, given Eloise's exhaustion and her broken, mangled arms and legs.

She waited, listening to the rats. And she let them come to her, staying completely motionless until one of them was directly on her face-

-and she struck, opening her mouth to reveal a set of grimy fangs, and she sank them deep into the rat, choking on the horrid taste but drinking anyway, because she was so hungry.

She sat up, then, moving the carcass away so that she wasn't constantly touching it. Eloise couldn't be sure just how many rats she'd killed after she saw her sire for the last time. Ah, no matter. It wasn't like Mistress was giving Eloise human blood before she disappeared, anyway.

Eloise sank back against the stone wall, which was covered in dried blood. She closed her eyes and listened to the pounding of her heart, disjointed images and faces floating through her vision behind shut eyelids.

Her youngest daughter's face. What was her name again? Verity? Victoria? Veronica? Eloise stopped trying to remember; it made her head hurt. And her son, only eight years old when Mistress killed him. Was it Edward, or perhaps Edwin? Or maybe it was Edgar?

Finally, her oldest daughter, and her husband. Eloise didn't know her daughter's name anymore, but she remembered her smile and her giggles and the way that she liked to play with John's sacks of flour.

John. Eloise was strangely relieved; she remembered her husband's name this time. Most times, she couldn't.

Eloise didn't know how long she'd been down in the darkness, chained up in Mistress's cellar. It had to be a hundred years by now. She dimly wondered if Mistress had killed another woman's family and turned another woman into a vampire so that she would have someone to do her laundry and scrub her floors for her, after even Eloise's naturally enhanced healing that came from being a vampire couldn't fix her mangled legs. What year was it now? God, Eloise didn't know. All she knew was the deep, throbbing pain in her bones and the constant hunger that was slowly driving her insane.

It seemed like an eternity and then some had passed when Eloise heard someone approaching the cellar.

At first, she thought it was Mistress. Was she alive after all this time? Had she simply forgotten about Eloise, or had she determined that Eloise wasn't worth the effort to keep alive anymore? Or was she there to hurt Eloise even more, so that she could take Eloise's pain and slam it into her opponent?

But no; beyond the smell of blood and rats and death, Eloise smelled humans.

Suddenly, she was very, very afraid. The Covenant was here.

They got through the lock on the door all too quickly, and rays of light flooded the cellar. Eloise flinched and covered her eyes, turning away. After so many years in the dark, even the dim light of the corridor leading to the cellar made her eyes sting painfully. She cowered against the wall as the vampire hunters approached. They saw her, she was sure of it; bright beams of light were sweeping across the cellar.

She heard one of them mutter a curse. Fear filled Eloise's veins as they warily approached her. Against her will, her fangs shot out, and Eloise felt nauseous at the smell of warm, rushing blood so close to her.

"Vampire," the one closest to her snarled softly. Bright white light hit her again, and Eloise whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Do you have a name?"

Eloise froze, her heart racing. Name. She wants my name. What is my name?

When Eloise failed to answer, the beam of white light hit her full-on in the face, and Eloise whimpered again, squirming against the chains. She would have screamed if her throat wasn't so dry.

Eloise licked her parched, papery lips, and let out a few painful coughs. "I-I-I don't know," she stammered out. "P-please. I promise I'm telling the truth...I can't remember. Please. It hurts...it hurts so much..."

A few muttered whispers. The light disappeared, and Eloise breathed a sigh of relief. A different vampire hunter approached her. He was so close that Eloise could have sunk her fangs into her neck if she had the courage.

"Let me see your eyes, vampire," he said, not unkindly. Trembling, Eloise lifted her hands away from her face and stared at the hunters. There were two men and two women in the cellar with her.

"Have you come to kill me?" whispered Eloise, her palms slick with sweat.

The vampire hunter in front of her gave Eloise a small half-smile. "Is your name Eloise Portsmouth?" he said in reply, ignoring Eloise's question.

Eloise's mind whirled. She felt lost, confused-was her name Eloise? Half-remembered memories flooded her vision. Wildflowers under a sunny sky. A wooden table speckled with flour. John's wicked smile, Sarah's solemn eyes.

"I-I-How did you know that?" Eloise breathed, looking at the hunter, bewildered.

An indiscernible emotion flashed across his face. "You are mentioned in certain documents that we obtained from your sire's chambers above," he told her gently.

Eloise nodded quickly, unsure of what to say. A wave of dizziness swept over her-all the human blood smelled so, so good.

"Enough of this nonsense," a brusque voice said, and Eloise realized that it was the hunter who had first spoken to her. The Covenant member in front of her returned to the small knot of people near the stairs of the cellar, and they conversed quietly amongst themselves, glancing suspiciously at Eloise every now and then. Eloise, for her part, lowered her eyes meekly and waited.

The hunters freed her from the chains, and for the first time in many, many years, the blisters and sores on Eloise's wrists and ankles weren't constantly chafing against the iron cuffs. The hunter who had been almost kind to her gave Eloise a brief look before wrapping the very same wrists and ankles in thick strands of garlic. Eloise gave a raspy cry. The garlic burned, like the hot cooking oil that Stella used to be so fond of dumping on top of her.

"Please, it hurts," she croaked, but her pleas fell in deaf ears.

She was then blindfolded (for the sake of her sensitive eyes, if anything else) and gagged, presumably to keep her from sinking her fangs into the nearest breathing being. Eloise felt herself being roughly dragged across the floor of the cellar and up the stairs, and she gasped and groaned against the gag as her useless legs banged against the sharp stone steps. Thankfully, once they realized how little she weighed, Eloise felt herself being picked up and carried away. When they reached the main foyer of her sire's home, Eloise felt a sharp sting in her forearm before she slipped out of consciousness.

*****

Eloise dreamed of snow and sadness before she woke up, feeling strangely light. Where am I? she wondered groggily. She began to sit up, and stifled a scream as her wrists rubbed against the strands of garlic that bound them behind her back. Eloise sank back down onto the thin cot that the Covenant had left her on, her breathing shallow. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck as she waited there for lord knows how long, wondering why the Covenant hadn't simply killed her already, like they had with her sire. She began to feel lightheaded, and once again, Eloise was reminded of her roaring hunger.

An hour or so later, one of the hunters came in. Eloise looked down, terrified.

"Here," the hunter said carelessly, tossing a...Eloise's mind went blank. It looked like a plastic bag of some sort, the kind that her sire had used to transport blood-a Ziploc bag. It was a medium-sized Ziploc bag, filled with blood, being tossed at her by the hunter. Eloise's hunger reared up and roared, and suddenly, there were tears in the thin plastic, and the blood was rushing out of it and filling Eloise's mouth...

Dog blood-not as good as human blood, but infinitely better than rat blood. Eloise finished drinking, her hunger satiated for the moment, and glanced up at the hunter, who was glaring at her with a barely concealed disgust. Eloise lowered her eyes again, shrinking away from her.

"Pay attention to what I'm about to say, vampire. I will not repeat myself." Eloise nodded meekly, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Records indicate that your sire-a certain Stella Havisham, if I am correct-believed that with time and age, you would develop healing abilities that could be used not only on yourself, but on others as well, human or...not. So, here is what's going to happen; we will feed you and bathe you and bandage your wounds, and in return, you are going to heal anyone who needs it. Is that clear?"

Eloise was stunned. "Healing" abilities? Where were these healing abilities all those times that Mistress hurt her?

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't-I don't have any...abilities," Eloise stammered, too afraid to look up at the hunter's face.

"Your sire purposefully kept them from manifesting. And if they don't end up manifesting here, either, then we will simply kill you and be done with it. However, if they do end up manifesting, you will do what you are told. Trust me on this-the Covenant is just as talented as your sire, when it comes to keeping people chained up and half-alive."

Eloise shuddered involuntarily. It seemed as if she had no choice than to become the Covenant's glorified slave, if these mysterious healing abilities ever manifested. Well, they certainly can't be worse than Mistress, she thought, a tad glumly. Eloise nodded her acquiescence. "I'll do as you say," she whispered.

The hunter stood up. "Good." She strode over to Eloise and shoved her up into a sitting position, ignoring Eloise's flinches as the garlic dug into her flesh. The vampire hunter attached something to Eloise's ankle. Eloise looked up at her, wide-eyed and confused. It was black and shiny and resembled an anklet, except that there was no way for Eloise to remove it-it was too tight around her ankle.

"This is a tracker, which also can be used to administer an electric shock. Do as we say, and I see no reason why it should have to be used." And with that, the hunter turned on her heel and left, leaving Eloise alone with her thoughts.

Present day

It took two months for Eloise's healing abilities to manifest.

Eloise watched with numb wonder as cuts healed over, leaving nothing but scars. Bruises faded away, bones knit themselves back together, and a little bit of the color returned to her cheeks. True to their word, the Covenant took care of her, to some extent-they gave her blood, and they gave her an actual bed, and they let her slowly regain some semblance of strength.

After Eloise discovered her capabilities, though, the rest was easy.

Within a day, her mangled, useless legs were functional once more, thanks to those miraculous sparks that shot from her fingertips. Eloise walked for the first time in sixty years, gasping at the sensation-it felt so...unusual. Her broken bones, kept in place by casts and splints, were suddenly perfectly fine. Eloise could have wept with wonder; for the first time since she was turned, more than one hundred years ago, nothing hurt.

The Covenant put her to work then, and some days she healed their hunters until she passed out, but it was infinitely better than her miserable existence with her sire. When she passed out, they revived her (most often with a painful electric shock), gave her a small cup of blood (usually some sort of animal blood-never human), and she continued. They gave her new, strange clothes (apparently, it was acceptable to wear pants that showed a lot of skin now, and women didn't have to wear dresses and skirts) and sometimes, they let her listen to music on a peculiar device called an iPod. Eloise loved that iPod.

She hadn't known that any of this existed, cooped up as she was in the cellar under her sire's house.

There were dreams, too, and plenty of nightmares, but those were to be expected. She dreamed of the life she once knew the most, followed by horrible nightmares concerning her sire. But all in all, Eloise was the happiest that she'd ever been as a vampire, despite the fact that she was basically the Covenant's property.

It had been three months since the Covenant found her when they put her aboard an airplane (and Eloise was enraptured by the sensation of flying, unable to tear herself away from the window) and flew her to the US, then put her in a car and started driving down to Tennessee. Eloise didn't know why she was being sent to Tennessee, and she didn't question it, instead marveling at all the sights and sounds that twenty-first century America had to offer her.

Of course, Eloise spent most of her time in the trunk, her wrists bound tightly together and a gag over her mouth, but that was a nonissue.

They were bouncing along a road one day, when the vehicle skidded to a stop. Eloise couldn't make out much from where she was, even with her vampiric hearing, though she could have sworn that she heard gunshots. There were a few muttered curses, and Eloise picked up the static of a radio. She shifted into a more comfortable position, and one of the hunters began opening the trunk. Eloise whimpered into the scarf wrapped around the bottom half of her face as thin beams of light hit her eyes, the only part of her not covered by clothing.

Eloise watched with apprehension as the trunk was fully opened, resisting the urge to scream as the light blinded her eyes. Eloise still wasn't used to bright lights after being locked away in the darkness for decades and decades. She caught a glimpse of a finger covered in blood, wearing a trench coat and a gas mask, and shrank back from the group of vampire hunters, keeping her eyes away from the sun.

With a sharp inhale across sharp fangs, Mithias sat bolt upright in his chambers. It was perfectly dark, his sheets were soft and dry, and there wasn't a sound in the room other than his own calming breaths. The psychic radiation of so much sudden fear and pain had awakened him from his daylight slumber. So many humans were terrified, running for their lives in the streets above. It felt like a war, like in the world wars when an entire city came under siege. Mithias tried to focus. No, this was no nightmare. Something was happening outside right now, something that didn't make sense for a small town like Vance. He threw aside the sheets in a fluid motion and set to see it for himself.

Just as he thought, the humans were under attack. The entire town was being assaulted by a youngblood vampire army that for some reason felt it would be more effective to strike under the damning light of the sun. Like himself, they would be weakened, slowed, and their senses dulled. "Foolish." Mithias commented to himself as he watched from a private drive on a hill. He was wearing a long black coat that hid his weapons yet allowed him movement. His hair was tied back and a Fedora shielded his yellow eyes. The scent of fresh blood was actually on the air, as was the odor of burning tires and spent gunpowder. The adrenaline and despair tainting that sanguine ichor of life made it all the darker an evil to drink and the more enticing for it. Mithias consciously rebelled against the thought of indulging.

The vampire knew immediately that this was not his place. Any fool immortal who threw themselves into battle at every opportunity would wind up wasting the life they had been given. Elders knew better than to involve themselves in the meaningless skirmishes between humans and the lesser of their own kind, even if such battles seemed so grand and important. ... They were nothing. They didn't matter, and no lasting and wise immortal ever invested themselves in those who would easily wind up dead in such petty engagements. This largely included associations with humans.

Mithias had been warned. He knew how dangerous it was here in Vance at this particular moment, and every cell in his body told him to flee, dispense with these mere mortal lives, and live to fight another day. He should live, to return again after some reconnaissance and perhaps assist the Covenant in seeking their revenge. This, he could do, but he could not fight the Covenant's battles directly for them. First off, he was one of the enemy and not to be trusted, nor did he trust them. Secondly, it was god-damned daylight.

But logic forever failed when it came to matters of the heart. For hundreds of years, Mithias had kept and watched his descendants as if they were his own children, and it just so happened that a few of them lived here in Vance, serving as low-ranking Covenant members. Their lives were at stake, and this pinched at the vampire's fatherly nerve. Mithias would move in, find out who had organized this ridiculous attack and protect the Covenant stronghold.

Moments later, Mithias arrived near the scene of where Tristan, Valadimir, and Johnathan were. Having "dealt with" one or two of the vampire soldiers on his way in, Mithias had learned a few things, one being that Johnathan was his next most likely target. He recognized Vladimir and noted him facing off against some strange vampire who carried a sword. The two were still speaking, but neither were yielding any pertinent information. Mithais merely listened from behind a corner as he searched for the young blonde Johnathan.

Vladimir and Mithias had never crossed paths. Mithias preferred to keep away from any powerful tool of the Covenant and always managed to escape before Vlad could track him down. The vampiric dog seemed quite useful.

Somewhere in Vance, a young woman was trying to run home.

Valk South Entrance, 15:30

Everything was going smoothly. Excellent. Brigadier General South looked out over his forces. A lot of them were young, and they held their guns like they barely knew what end bullets came out of. These were the 'super soldiers' he'd been promised, the next generation of military might. Here and there was an actual soldier or police officer, someone with training and skill, but most of them were unskilled. Even with superhuman powers they were barely more than fodder, but at least they were durable fodder. And in time he would whip them into shape. This was the responsible Lieutenant General Johnathan had given to him, to forge an army worthy of ruling the world. Even now the men followed his orders without hesitation, and this was an excellent live-fire test. Once the Covenant arrived his men would test their metal, and those found wanting would be forged into steel. Not a single scrap would be wasted.

Men and women were dragged into trucks in an orderly fashion. Seperated by gender and age, neatly sorted and then delivered to a main base set up just for this purpose. In time they would become food or reinforcements. In another commander South might have doubted the decision to gather so many civilians in one place, it was practically asking for a retaliatory strike. But the Lieutenant General was of a different breed, and such doubts had no use. When the time came he would understand the meaning, as would those foolish enough to strike this perceived weakness. Such strategic brilliance was the reason South followed Johnathan, even as they walked the fine line between Heaven and Hell. For that was the duty of a soldier.

Gunshots. Not here, but not far away either. From the sound they were small arms, probably police. With a gesture he sent a nearby squad to handle the situation. These small fries were just a warm-up, the main dish would soon arrive. And he needed to be ready when they came. To have any such morsels still active when the real battle came would be a failure on his part.

---

As Carolyn ran through the spacious streets she would hear shouting and gunshot wounds, screaming and laughing. There was a scent like smoke in the air, mixed with blood and fear. A smell unfamiliar to her, but embedded into every human's subconscious, the kind of smell that she would not soon forget. It was the smell of war. It was the smell of death.

Loud slamming footsteps behind her. No, not behind her, above her? Like a blur of red and black a figure leaped from a nearby roof, skidding to halt on the cobblestones as they turned to face her. Inhumanly sharp teeth grinned wide at her as the stranger paused, locking eyes onto it's prey. It was wearing a mockery of military uniform, black kevlar plates with a red underlying uniform. A visor failed to hide a pair of glowing red eyes as they stared at her. Nothing in those eyes felt an emotion as human as mercy.

"Lady lady, can't you see it's dangerous out right now? We can't have you running around and getting hurt, can we?" Still grinning the figure walked closer, spreading their hands as if showing they were unarmed. There was a rifle on their back, although they made no move to retrieve it. "How about you come with me and we get you somewhere nice and safe, huh? How about it?" Loud footsteps, army boots on stone, approaching rapidly. It seemed that more of this guy's friends were coming.

Valk Main Square, 15:30

It appeared the fighting had begun, and the vampire soldiers surrounded the duel. A circle had formed, soldiers pointing their weapons at the two contestants. In this battle between demons, lesser monsters had no place, and neither of these creatures seemed to be paying any head to the vampiric army that had now surrounded their little showdown. Of course it wasn't just the small fry who had been attracted by the fight, as the appearance of a hybrid was a most remarkable event indeed.

Colonel Blue marched down the centre of the street, armoured in the same jet-black carapace granted to all Death Troopers. It was a symbol of status within this little army, the sort of symbol that inspired fear. It showed that he was a cut above the rest, a superior being. Of course they offered little in the way of customisation options, but Blue himself was recognisable by his choice of weaponry. As he walked he carried a long glaive-like weapon, it's handle as black as his armour and it's blade shining like silver. Where the staff gave way to blade he had tied a blue ribbon, a little personality. After all, he wanted his victims to know who it was that ended their life. He wanted their name engraved onto their dying moments, he wanted them to curse his name as they died. He would carve his name into the face of this world, a mark made of bodies and blood.

A leap took him over the circle, and when he slammed back down onto the stones of the square they cracked beneath his feet. Soundlessly he righted himself, standing exactly between the two combatants. In one hand he held his glaive, the Nevermore Blade, it's pristine blade pointed at Vladimir. In his other hand he held Tristan's weapon by the blade, having caught it in midair. With a casual toss he sent the blade back at Tristan, to clatter to the ground at the elder vampire's feet. For a moment he held the pose, before spinning the glaive with one hand and slamming it into the ground. The blade parted stone like butter, and any observing could tell it was no simply steel edge. When the Trooper spoke, his voice was deep visceral, with a hint of amusement. "It seems someone's disrupting the party events. Which one of you thought it was a good idea to oppose us? Ah, it doesn't matter." Another flick of the wrist sent the glaive into the air, before he once more caught it, now in a battleready position. "How about both of you come at me at once. Let's make this interesting, shall we not? I wouldn't want anyone to feel left out!" Grinning beneath his visor, Blue waited for their response.

---

A showoff, as usual. Pathetic. Although even Purple had to admit he wasn't bad at it. While Blue might be a fool he was a highly competent fool, and not an opponent to be messed with. Despite this, precautions had to be taken. Vampires were an astounding breed indeed, and there was no telling in advance how powerful one might be. If they were to lose a Death Trooper this early it would be horrendous for morale, and Purple was here to ensure that no matter what Blue stayed alive. Having a showoff like that might be unprofessional, but it further added to the air of terror and authority the Death Troopers had gained.

Considering what an unfortunate role she had to play in all of this, Purple soundlessly set up. Heatvision wouldn't be of much use against most strains of vampire, so she relied on her own superhuman sight. Scopes would attract too much attention, someone might see the light reflected off of the lens. But without such tools she was invisible. And from her perch far from the actual conflict she observed the contestants through the sights of her heavy-duty sniper rifle, The Raven. It was in fact an anti-tank rifle, and equipped with a number of fascinating different rounds. A little toy given to her by the Lt. General.

In all probability, this would go fine. But if Blue did somehow make a mistake, or if there was a greater threat there than they had anticipated, she would interject. The ever-watchful eye of the New World, ready to annihilate any mistakes. Hidden beneath a camo blanket and encased in her armour she was hidden from sight, sound and smell. An invisible death, ready to steal away the life of dissenters.

@thewizardguy

Carolyn came to an abrupt halt, the stranger that had intercepted her path instilling an even stronger sense of fear than before. "No, I'm alright, I'd rather continue...um, on my way home." She eyed her surroundings out of instinct, looking for a possible escape, although the approaching footsteps and the obvious fact that she was a mere human were obvious indicators that she had no chance in hell of escaping, not without some sort of miracle.

And that's exactly what she got.

Without so much as a warning, Carolyn was suddenly snatched up off of the ground and settled onto a nearby rooftop two stories off the ground in a matter of seconds. It was Lucas who'd arrived to help her, and he gave her a quick hug. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Come on."

"Thank you—"

Then they were off again, rushing from rooftop to rooftop as easily as a kid skipping through a playground. Carolyn made sure to hold on tight. She'd done this in the past, but none of those times were a matter of life and death. Not like today. With the wind buzzing past them, Carolyn looked up at Lucas. He didn't seem to be the slightest bit tired. That, or he was extremely good at hiding it. It was then he just so happened to look behind him, his expression changing. Carolyn instantly knew something was wrong, especially when he stopped to gently set her down on the rooftop they were currently on. Lucas pushed her behind him with one arm and she easily picked up on the fact that he was getting ready to fight, his muscles tensing and his breathing slowing down. An odd sense of regret washed over Carolyn, and she wished she could help him, fight by his side so she didn't have to feel so helpless. "Please be careful," she whispered, worrisome thoughts flooding her mind not because of her safety, but for Lucas' own.

@Heretic

Hissing and laughing, the soldiers gave chase. The first seemed to have been joined by several others, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with inhuman grace. Their hard boots slammed into the shingles as they ran after the rogue vampire, although they weren't getting any closer. With a sudden bang a nearby shingle exploded, and then another. It seemed they'd started pulling out rifles, taking shots from the hip as they ran. After all, it didn't matter if they shot this vampire a little bit, they were supposed to be tough. And although they intended to take the woman alive, well, it couldn't be helped if she got a little bruised right? Now fully in the spirit of the hunt they hunted down their prey, some retrieving blades from their belts or firing bullets at the fleeing pair.

But when Lucas came to a halt so did they, setting themselves up in a semicircle around their target. Every one of them was now holding an assault rifle, which they pointed menacingly at Lucas. There were five of them in total, including the one who had originally threatened Carol. Even now he stepped forward, gesturing for the other vampires to hold their fire. It seemed he was in charge of this little group. "Hey buddy, that was a nice run. Good thing you stopped, though. We've got a perimeter around this town, and the fellows at the edge are a lot less friendly than we are." He was smiling, although the smile was not a warm one. He certainly seemed he was enjoying himself, but his words dripped with a sort of self-satisfied glee. Like a hunter doting over a deer they'd caught in their sights. "You sure you want to turn this into a fight? Those aren't pea shooters. You, I imagine, can take a couple bullets, but her?" He shrugged in a vaguely nonchalant gesture. "See it'd be safer for everyone if you just gave up."

Before Vladimir could answer a newcomer made his way into the now formed circle. He quicker a brow and rolled his eyes. A show off worse then him. That was rare. "You're the type that loves to fight aren't you" he tilted his head. "Honestly im surprised usually it's a capture party and not a....get off on fighting party" vlad looked at the one he had been fighting...rather talking to. "I take it ribbon guy isn't a friend of yours."

Vlad then looked between the two and shrugged. "You know I'm not really feeling it. You've done the whole show thing and caught that sword but....there's no flare." A head tilt a shoulder shrug. "Sorry comrade. I don't think I'll be charging at you." the faintest Russian accent came about.

Vlad honestly was surprised they hadn't heard of him. After all, he wasn't exactly secretive about what he did. Then again the covenant did have a habit of keeping their weapon secret. Though he was the type of weapon to poke at things first then really fight. Another surprise was that they were actually going the fight route. It was different then the capture route...fun. The old pirate habits were peeking out of him.

Tristan turned his attention to the vampire that caught the blade mid-air. He was clearly not amused by the other vampires antics. "I did not invite you to this little duel and the boy didn't invite you either clearly." He stated before returning his attention to Vlad. "I don't have friends. I have allies and I have enemies and that's it." He replied as his blades vanished from where they came from. Using the toe of his boot the sword on the ground was flipped up into the air and caught before vanishing as well.

"We'll have to continue this another time. Without interruptions from cocky children." He growled while shooting Blue a glare that could have set stone on fire. "I would advise not trying to take on this whole group if you do fight the idiot manchild. Even I would be hard pressed to avoid all the automatic fire." He said before vanishing in that signature cloud of smoke. He appeared further away with each puff, and if anyone paid attention they would notice he only cropped up on a shadow of some sort.