John watched the screen in front of him in a state of dreadful tedium. If you had asked him before today whether he believed the BSMP would collapse, he might have taken time to wonder. Now though, he completely agreed with Rawiyah’s assessment. They were doomed.
He currently sat at a table next to Rex Scuggums, the Director of the Brick, and George Sprong, their chief security analyst. The group all faced a television screen on the far wall, currently displaying the empty smile of Henry Gatchet, one of the army of indistinguishable BSMP head secretaries in Washington D.C.
Normally John would have been surprised at being called into a meeting about his report on the Eldritch Avatar so quickly, but buzzwords like ‘unimaginably powerful rogue archdragon’ did have a way of catching people’s attention.
“As it stands the BSMP sees no reason for a change in policy,” Gatchet said, his smile refusing to break even as he spoke.
“Sir, are the higher ups fully briefed on the situation?” Director Rex asked. He projected an air of calmness and professionalism, but John could feel his leg bouncing from nerves just under the table.
He had initially been against leaving the dragon alone, even going so far as to use the mousekin’s report as an excuse to have the Thunderbirds capture it. But after the disastrous end of that scheme he had quickly reversed his opinion.
John himself hadn’t needed the reminder. He had been firmly for leaving the dragon alone after watching the security footage of her smashing a full-blooded vampire like a bug.
“They have been informed of the relevant details.”
“Do they even know it's an archdragon we are dealing with?” John asked, leaning in over the table.
“They have been informed of the relevant details,” Gatchet said again.
“So no,” John leaned back again with a sigh.
“Excuse me sir, I would just like to clarify,” George spoke up, “You are aware that Archdragons are by definition unkillable, correct.”
“You have said that,” Gatchet nodded.
“And your orders are for us to kill it?”
“That is correct.”
“How?” Director Rex asked helplessly, “The vampire’s lair in New Mexico is a molten crater, and that was one of the only known dragon killing sites in the world!”
“That isn’t relevant,” Gatchet said, still with that damn smile, “What is relevant is that the Dragon is a powerful rogue element. A creature this strong threatens the balance of power on a global scale. Your orders are to kill it, and I expect a report on the projected time of removal from you in the next week.”
The screen winked out, leaving the room in darkness. With a deep groan Rex slowly fell forward until his head hit the desk with a thunk.
“John?” He asked quietly, “Any advice on how the hell we do this?”
“Are you a religious man?” John asked.
“No?”
“Then I’m afraid not.”
----------------------------------------
The night was dead silent as Jaroslav approached the dimly lit apartment block. The peeling paint and graffitied concrete of the structure gave no illusions as to the quality of the apartments, but the lights on in some of the windows said well that there were people more than willing to brave the ancient premises for cheap living.
Behind him trailed a shivering Acezar, or ‘Roger’ as he’d apparently been calling himself recently. Something about going by a name more pronounceable by the local humans. The young vampire was pulled in on himself, no doubt terrified of the night to come and the punishment Jaroslav had promised him.
It only helped demonstrate the boy’s utter incompetence. If he knew anything about Jaroslav and the man he swore fealty to, he would have run and died like any sane creature.
Instead he blindly followed Jaroslav up the crumbling staircase to the third floor, their steps silent as they glided past the rickety wooden doors lining the hallway.
From the corner of his eye, Jaroslav watched the young vampire stare fearfully toward each passing room number. He flinched at every new one, clearly wondering which Jaroslav would enter.
Jaroslav suppressed a sigh. He wanted to be disappointed, but by this point he was barely surprised by the boy’s failure to notice the pulsing beacon of mana emanating from one of the rooms ahead.
The door quickly came into view, and Jaroslav slowly drew to a stop in front of it. His hand still paused as it reached for the handle, a thousand years old habit. The ancient rules that governed his race were hard things to ignore. Still, he reminded himself that the occupant of this home had abandoned those protections, and his hand landed on the doorknob.
The door opened smoothly despite rusted hinges, and both vampires stepped into the darkened room beyond.
Within, piled clothes and refuse covered the furniture, and a vast collection of video game cases and plastic figurines spoke of a life poorly lived.
Deeper inside the house the dim flickering of candlelight was visible, likely within one of the rooms without windows. Likely a bathroom or closet.
The ritual the home’s owner was following recommended it. The spell had to be cast on the darkest room of a house on the night of a new moon, in total absence of natural light.
Jaroslav would know, he had been the one to translate the spell into each of the modern languages and upload it to the internet.
Instead of days of intricate spellwork revealing the slight fluctuations in mana that would lead Jaroslav to these out of the way meeting places, he could simply write a computer program that told him the IP address of whomever downloaded the spell instructions, and even calculate when they would next see a new moon.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The internet truly was a beautiful cesspit of the worst parts of humanity. You could send some idiot a ritual spell to summon a literal demon and the blood would be drying in the appropriate runic circles before he even finished reading it.
Jaroslav wouldn’t have it any other way.
“This isn’t hard!” A nasally voice whined, “I want to be a werewolf!”
“I simply seek to understand your desires, supplicant,” Rumbled a deeper voice, “Your request is novel to me.”
“Great! Then-”
“Quiet,” The deeper rumble cut the first voice off, “Someone approaches.”
Jaroslav took that as his cue, stepping into the room perfectly on time with the end of the sentence. His eyes passed over a dilapidated bathroom, then landed on the human standing guilt-stricken in front of a glowing runic circle sketched in dried blood.
The man was rather unimpressive, sallow skin covering a boney frame. A shaggy mop of greasy hair almost totally obscuring two bright blue eyes. It appeared that the days of powerful warlords asking for the might to crush their enemies was over.
Now it was children asking for petty scraps.
Behind the human, standing within the runic circle was a powerfully built demon. Bulging muscles, red skin, pitch black horns and eyes, it was the spitting image of the classic monster.
It raised a single heavy brow as Jaroslav entered the room, then smiled.
“Jaroslav, welcome,” It said, “I was not expecting you.”
It stepped forward and out of the runed circle.
The human’s eyes bulged as the demon broke what he thought were the fundamental rules of the summoning. Unfortunately for him, the information provided on the spell hadn’t exactly been honest.
The only true information Jaroslav had provided was the target of the summons, and that the spell had to be cast by a mortal creature.The runic circles provided no protection whatsoever. Humans were simply too trusting about what they found on the internet.
Before the man’s incredulous eyes, the demon began to transform.
Impressive muscles deflated like bellows, and the powerful frame shrank. Within seconds the imposing figure was reduced to a more natural height.
In its place was a young man, fair skinned with warm brown eyes and a kind smile. He looked like a handsome Shakespearean actor, the image made complete by an ostentatious Elizabethan suit.
A bright white lace ruff the width of his shoulders encircled his neck, above a pink silken shirt with billowing sleeves. Pitch black pants stopped at the knee to reveal blood red stockings over high heeled boots that must have been three inches high.
The human summoner’s jaw dropped.
Then the man smiled and his ridiculous clothes ceased to matter. Human lips stretched wide over human teeth, all perfectly normal. But there was something wrong with it. Something that made even Jaroslav, a thousand year old monster, suppress a shiver.
Madness lurked within that smile, making the twinkling eyes seem like they were staring not at Jaroslav, but through him. The cruel joy of a child with a magnifying glass finding an ant.
“Greetings, Milord Dhruv,” Jaroslav said, the deep guttural name seeming to scrape his throat as it came out.
Beside him Acezar’s eyes widened.
“It has been too long, Jaroslav! Care for a hug?” The man asked, holding his arms wide and speaking with a deep warm voice.
“I will decline,” Jaroslav demurred, knowing full well that if he ever accepted he would be left a pulverized mass of tortured flesh.
After all, to Lord Dhruv, Demon King and First Among Vampires, every creature on Earth was little more than a plaything. His whims were the stuff of nightmares, and it took a practiced hand to survive even a short conversation with him.
“W-what’s going on!” The human sputtered, glancing wildly between the transformed demon and the two intruders.
“Ah, my apologies for the ruse,” Dhruv’s eyes turned to the human, who shut his mouth so quickly he nearly bit his tongue. “It simply grows tedious explaining to every supplicant that human fashion reached its zenith four hundred years ago. Now while I catch up with my good friend, why don’t you have your wish?”
He raised a hand and softly snapped his fingers. As the sound echoed through the room, the human crumbled to the ground to writhe in silent agony.
“A very interesting wish, that one,” Dhruv said as he watched the man begin to claw at the floor, “He wanted to be the leader of a group of human wolf hybrids that follow a dominance based hierarchy, all inflicted with an infectious curse that only activates at night.”
“I am aware of the concept,” Jaroslav said, barely flinching when the smiling face turned back to him, “Merely a fanciful story that has been popular among humans these last few decades.”
“Hm,” Dhruv shrugged, “It did seem a little too complex an idea for such a simple mind to create. It never even occurred to the man that I could grant him incredible power without the overcomplicated pack dynamics.”
“The bounds of stupidity are truly limitless, milord,” Jaroslav said, nodding his head.
“Right, what reason do you have to meet with me?” Dhruv asked, losing his smile.
“An Archdragon has appeared on earth.”
“You discovered this the hard way, I suppose?”
“Indeed, we lost over a hundred vampires thanks to the impressive incompetence of Acezar,” Jaroslav nodded to the shivering vampire at his side.
“Great-Grandsire, I-” Acezar’s frantic words were cut off as the Demon King’s hand shot out and latched onto his jaw.
He clawed at the arm, finally stopping as he realized that he couldn’t even scratch the soft silk covering it. Then he caught the quiet gaze of the man in front of him and stiffened like a frightened animal.
“Did you think me a mortal that cares for things like whose blood runs in your veins?” The Demon King asked, head tilted innocently to the side.
Others may have assumed this was a taunt, but Jaroslav knew the monster was genuinely curious. If Acezar was smart, he might have talked his way out, gambling on the Demon King’s notorious desire for entertainment for a chance to escape. Unfortunately for the young vampire, Jaroslav didn’t think his abilities were up to the task.
His message delivered, and his sacrificial sailor firmly in Scylla’s mouth, Jaroslav drifted into a corner to wait.
Dhruv’s hand loosened around Acezar’s mouth just enough to let him speak. Several long seconds passed, but no words escaped the young vampire’s mouth. Finally Dhruv sighed and shook his head.
“Boring.”
A wave of his hand sent Acezar crashing into the wall, where he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Dhruv said, moving to stand over him. “I have a more interesting way to play with you.”
He waved a hand to the summoner, the man still writhing on the floor in pain. In the short time they had turned away from him, his body had warped and grown. In place of the scrawny figure from before was a hulking, hairy thing.
“This summoner wished for power, yet forgot to ask about the caveats. His body is now more powerful, but it has now entered a heavy mana deficit to fuel his transformation. To sustain himself he must now seek out a source of mana and… consume it.”
To Acezar’s credit, it only took him a few seconds to grasp the implication. A moment later he was scrambling for the door, slamming it behind himself as he ran. A shriek of metal echoed from the outside, followed by the heavy thud of something landing at the bottom of the stairwell.
It appeared Acezar had taken the fast way back down to the first floor.
From behind the two vampires, came a bestial growl. The former summoner stood on shaky legs, its mane of dark fur now scraping the ceiling. It sniffed the room, two pain glazed eyes desperately whipping back and forth in search of sustenance.
Its instincts must have been strong, as despite the two enormous sources of mana in front of it the creature didn’t even seem to notice them. Instead it lowered its head and slowly moved to the broken wall where Acezar had fallen.
Then with a flurry of movement it was gone, the door now a mass of splinters in its wake.
Dhruv trailed after them, followed by Jaroslav. They made their way to the outside, following the trail of destruction. Stopping by the ruined railing, they watched Acezar vanish into the trees, trailed closely by the slavering beast.
“Do you have any plans for the Archdragon, Milord?” Jaroslav finally dared to ask.
“Something this interesting?” The Demon King smiled like a child on Christmas morning. “Of course.”