Clouds clung to the sky, covering the light of the moon and casting shadows across the city below. Streetlights illuminated signs, streets, and buildings across the massive labyrinth of concrete and brick. The darkness had only a few places to hide, the back alleys and forgotten basements.

Micro cars zoomed past the pedestrians on the sidewalks. People walked back and forth, enjoying another beautiful night in the city. Conversations raged as men and women walked from bars, restaurants, and other locals of the night.

Two young men in black jackets veered off from the street and into one of the dark alleys. One reached his tattooed hand into his jacket and pulled out two cigarettes. He handed one to his comrade, who eagerly accepted with his own tattooed flesh.

“Danke, Janez.” The second man ran his hand through his silver hair, slicking it back.

“Kien problem, Karl.” Janez snapped his fingers and a flame appeared over his thumb. He held his thumb under the cigarette and lit it, doing the same for his friend before waving his hand back and forth, extinguishing the flame.

Karl sucked in deep, blowing out a cloud of smoke as the two made their way deeper into the alley. He flipped his hand through Janez’s long silver hair, “Ihr haare wird lange.” Karl laughed as his friend pushed him away.

“Ich mag es so. Es ist wie die alten verwendet zu haben.” Janez puffed his own cigarette before looking down at the man stumbling in the alley in front of them.

The vagrant had a glass bottle in one hand and was holding himself up on the brick wall with his other. As the two young men got closer, they could smell the thick stench alcohol on the man’s breath. The drunk’s black suit was stained and smudged with dirt and grime.

The drunk took another swig as he got closer and mumbled something to the silver-haired men as they started to descend some stairs to a dark basement door.

“Was?” Karl looked over at Janez and shrugged, scratching his inked up neck.

“Brockly.” The drunk said out loud as he took the last swig of his glass bottle. His jacket opened slightly, revealing the twin black pistols holstered beneath his armpits.

“Broccoli? Like, uh, food?” Janez’s eyes caught the two pistols swaying under the drunk’s jacket. Something seemed familiar about the pistols. He had heard stories recently of a man killing his kind. He wore a black suit and had twin pistols, but was it this drunk here? He could barely stand, let alone fight.

The drunk finished his bottle and tossed it at the wall behind the young men, “Brockly’s my name, and it’s the last thing you’ll hear.”

Janez turned to his friend. His hand shot open, materializing a fireball in his palm, “Es’s ihn! Brockly! Die Drow killer.”

Brockly quickly pulled out a pistol and shot Janez through the hand containing the fireball. The bullet burst through his hand, and the fireball followed the bullet through the newly formed hole, searing his exposed flesh as it did so.

Janez screamed and held his hand close to him. Blood poured down his tattooed arm. Karl pulled out a knife and lunged at Brockly. The drunken man was too slow to block the knife. Karl slashed out at Brockly’s arm, striking flesh and drawing blood.

Brockly grunted and kicked out at Janez, knocking him to the floor. He then turned to the knife wielding Karl.

Karl smiled and his blade lit up in flames. He went to strike again at Brockly. This time Brockly brought up his gun to fire at the man. Karl swatted his gun downwards, but Brockly kept leaning into Karl, bending his elbow and striking Karl hard in the throat before he could react.

Karl stepped back and coughed a few times before Brockly grabbed his arm and swung it upwards, driving the flaming knife up through Karl’s chin.

Karl opened his mouth to scream. Flames leapt from his mouth as he fell to his knees.

Brockly pulled up his pistol and fired one round into the young man’s head. He turned to Janez, who was still weeping on the ground.

“No!” Janez held out his good hand to stop the man.

Brockly quickly squeezed the trigger and holstered his pistol. He took a deep breath and bent over, hurling his stomach’s contents all over the brick wall. He spat a few times and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He glanced down at the basement door the two men were headed too.

A small neon sign of a flame hung above the door.

Brockly took another deep breath, “Maybe they’ll have some drinks down there.” He pulled his jacket snugly over his shoulders, and started to descend the stairs. He pulled his guns out, kicked in the wooden door, and stormed inside.

Sweat poured down her forehead as she ran through the streets. She looked up at old rooftops. Several figures were jumping back and forth, only moments behind her. She turned back to the streets in front of her. There were no people out this late at night, and rightfully so. This part of town had become too dangerous for normal people.

“Help!” She shouted out into her deaf surroundings. There was no one to hear her cries. She looked back the rooftops, but the chasing figures had vanished. The girl then slammed into something and fell to the street. She quickly glanced up at the figure standing in front of her.

“Going somewhere?” The man smiled, his long fangs creeping from his mouth. The accent in his voice was thick. His facial hair was short and patchy.

The lady hissed at him, showing her own fangs. She was startled by a thump behind her. She looked back at two more men edging their way into the faint light.

“Ah, we finally caught her.” One of them spoke out.

The second one nudged the first, “It’s no fun when they give up so easily. The chase is the best part.”

The woman wiped the beads of sweat from her face. She had to get out of here before these monsters could take her back. “I won’t go back. You can’t make me.”

The patchy haired vampire stepped forward, “What? I thought you wanted to be a vampire?” He pulled some handcuffs from his jacket, “You’ve read those silly vampire books from America, but we don’t sparkle here, darling. We’re the real deal.”

The other two vampires laughed at each other and licked their lips.

“The boys need a lovely lady like you around. It gets so lonely living forever. And plus, I think Ra likes you the most. Once he returns, he might even take you himself.” The patchy vampire laughed along with his cohorts.

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The girl started scrambling to get off the ground. They were just playing games with her now. If she couldn’t escape, then she would have to take her own life. There was no way she would go back to the lair. They would just continue to force themselves on her until they tired of her. No, she couldn’t go back now. She looked to the alley to her left. It was her only shot. She shot up and ran with all her might.

The patchy vampire smiled again, “Get her.” The three vamps dashed forward with incredible speed.

They quickly started to close the gap on the girl. She glanced backwards and let out a worried cry. She was going to be taken back, she knew it, and there was nothing she could do.

“Three on one? That’s not very fair, especially for couple of ugly vamps like you.” An enthralling voice shot out of the dark.

The girl stopped and looked around, the three vampires followed suite. Their eyes shot around the dark alley, but they couldn’t find the speaker.

The girl looked up into the night sky. A lone figure was flying from the rooftops, wind sweeping through the figure’s long hair. The figure’s pale skin was visible even in the darkness. The girl let out a short gasp as she saw the figure was headed straight towards the three vampires chasing her.

The figure landed on Patches, crushing him to the ground with a loud grunt.

The long black hair swept away from the figure’s face, and the girl could finally see that it was a beautiful woman, her face unrivaled by any other. Her outfit revealed her full chest and curved figure, toned to perfection. The lady smiled as she pulled a gun from the strap at her hip. The girl could see fangs protruding from the lady’s mouth. This was the most perfect vampire she had ever seen.

The lady vamp pulled the trigger of her gun as it crossed Patch’s face. The vampire burst into flames beneath the Midnight Angel of Death. She fell several inches, settling in the ashes of her foe.

The two remaining vampires pulled their guns and fired on the pale queen of the night, but she didn’t flinch. She showed no signs of fear.

The bullets stopped several feet from their target, hanging suspended in midair. The two vamps looked at each other in confusion.

“Andrelle, my love, the headaches are returning. We must make this quick.” The voice of a man filled the alley.

The lady vamp blew a lock of hair from her face, “Always the party pooper, Red. Let’s wrap this up then.”

The suspended bullets suddenly burst into tiny shards of metal and flew at one of the vamps with incredible speed. The shards hit against his flesh, tearing and ripping through the thin pale barrier. The vamp screamed in pain before bursting into fire.

The last remaining thug pulled his trigger again in a vain attempt to kill the lady vamp before him. The gun failed to work. He looked down at his arm as it suddenly jerked back. His own gun was pointing right at him, but he was powerless to stop it, not even his legs could carry him away. He saw a bright burst from the gun before he too burst to flames like his comrades.

Andrelle turned to the girl as she holstered her gun, “You okay?” She held out her hand for the girl to take.

The girl looked around at first. She then nodded at the femme fatal in front of her. She just saw this lady kill three of Ra’s henchmen. He would be furious when he found out. There really was no place for her to return to. If she returned to the lair, they would kill her. She reluctantly held her hand out and was pulled up from the ground with ease. She rubbed her arm, “Who are you anyway?”

Andrelle smiled. She was quite famous in Ra’s territory. “I’m Andrelle.” She winked at the girl.

“Andrelle.” The girl’s eyebrows shot up. This was the leader of the Revolution, the woman who was fighting back against the Vampire clans and their leaders. She had defeated Horus and his followers, successfully destroying one clan all together, scattering Horus’s horde into the wind. Andrelle was Ra’s greatest enemy and the only person who could save her now.

Andrelle glanced behind her. A man was descending from the rooftops, slowly floating to the ground. His head was shaved and his fingers bandaged up. He smiled at Andrelle. She turned back to the girl, “And this is my husband, Red.” She looked back at Red, “A psychic, best in the world.”

Red nodded, “Nice to meet you.” Red was several feet from the ground now before his eyes started to roll back into his head. Thousands of voices rushed into his head at once. All their lives filled his vison, his mind, and his body went limp, crashing to the ground with a thud. Andrelle rushed to his side.

Red’s body started to convulse, foam was spewing from his mouth as Andrelle bent down and tried to stabilize him. Andrelle yelled out for the girl, “Help me! We need to keep him still.”

The girl nodded and ran to his side, her face wrought with worry. She held down his arms and looked up at Andrelle, “What’s happening to him.”

Andrelle ripped open the small pack Red had on his back, “He saved me from Horus, but at the cost of his own life.” Andrelle paused for a bit. It was hard for her to keep her mind straight. Every time Red went into a fit, she could only think about losing the man she had fallen in love with. “So I made him one of us.”

Andrelle pulled a syringe out of the pack and popped the cap off. She squirted out the air bubbles and held his arm tight. “Sometimes his powers get so strong he can read the minds of people several miles away.” She looked the girl in the eyes with all seriousness, “Everyone’s mind several miles away, all at once. It sends him into these fits.”

Andrelle pulled the belt from Red’s waist and tied it around his arm. She stuck the syringe in and injected him with its contents before she removed the belt. She held her arm out for the girl to back up.

Andrelle sat back and sighed as Red started to settle down. She turned him on his side and rubbed the man’s back.

The girl looked at the syringe, “What’s in it?”

Andrelle didn’t bother taking her eyes off of Red, “Heroin.” She laid it out bluntly, “It’s the only thing that works.”

The girl nodded somberly.

“Now help me get him up before more of Ra’s thugs arrive.” Andrelle grabbed the comatose man and tossed him over her shoulder.

The girl grabbed the pack and followed the lady vamp out of the alley. She thought the leader of the Resistance would have been someone majestic and overwhelming, but she was just another woman with her own problems.

The girl tightened her grip on her bag. She would help out others too, even though she was thousands of miles from home, others had problems too. She looked at the man lying on Andrelle’s shoulder. Others had worse problems than her, they all needed help.

A cool breeze followed the burst of sunlight through the broken basement door and into the dark room. The sound of crowds and cars filled the air, sneaking their way down into the room along with the breeze of the wind.

The man in the black suit woke from his haunted dreams. He spit bile from his mouth onto the counter. Vomit was caked onto the bar in front of him. His head felt as if someone drove a railway spike through his temples. His hand was still clasped on one of his twin pistols.

Brockly looked around the bar, his head still fuzzy from the night before. His senses soon came back with a flood of dread.

He looked around the bar. Tables had been knocked over, bullet holes and scorch marks cover the walls and floors of the establishment. The neon sign of a flame that hung over the bar counter was shattered. Bottles lay spread across the floor, lying in pools of liquid.

Blood was a close second when it came to the scenery.

Brockly gazed upon the bodies of the dead all around him. Their silver hair smeared with the dry red scabs of curdled blood. Not just men, but women, fifteen of them in all, but one of the bodies caught Brockly’s attention the most.

He had not remembered this one being in the room last night, but it was too dark for him to tell. He might have been too drunk to care. His fists clenched tightly as he realized what he had done.

A small child lay halfway in the dark, tiny feet visible from underneath a table splattered with blood.

Brockly yelled out with anger. He slammed his fist down on the bar top, a small crack sounded out from his hand. He swung his hands across the bar, scattering bottles and glasses all about, shattering as they hit the floor. He grabbed a bottle and tossed it at the wall, yelling again in anger. It broke against the wall, spraying glass across the devastated establishment.

Brockly slumped to the ground. Tears streamed down his face. What had he become? What was he doing with himself? At one point he was respectable, but now, he had fallen far.

A half empty bottle spilling onto the floor caught his eye. He grabbed the liquor and chugged some. He stood and emptied the rest of the bottle across the bar. He pulled out his lighter and set it on the ground. The liquor caught flame, and soon spread throughout the bar, catching the wood and bodies alight.

He stumbled out into the alley. He shielded his eyes from the bright sun. His head pounded to the beat of an invisible drum. Brockly looked down at the two dead men outside. He shook his head and grabbed their bodies. He needed to hide the evidence after all. He dumped them down the basement steppes and he quickly retreated down the alley before anyone could see him.

There was another neon flame sign across town. One he had found on his travels. It was his next destination.

Brockly took a deep breath of fresh air, and made his way across the street. Soon he would find his love. Soon.