So, in a hastily made competition against another writer on the site, who will remain anonymous unless they decide not to be a little bitch and to face the fact that they're pathetic and should probably exile themselves from not only this community, but all writers and people who are capable of reading alike, we had a competition to spew out a vampire-based story in fifteen minutes. Not about how good it was, or every whether it even qualified as a story, but simply word count. No pre-planning, no revision, just a desperate and pitiful race to spew words out into the world. So, in that fifteen minutes I shat out this. It's not good, but I'd like it here just to spit in the face of the pathetic "writer", a word I'm loath to call him even with the quotation marks, to remind them they're pathetic, who failed to even come close. So again, here it is in all it's desperate fifteen minute scramble of glory.
The group walked through the heavy snow, making effort not to leave any footprints in the cold winter snow. Jacob led the group, a sawn-off in his right hand and a flashlight, it’s light now flickering, in his other. The group a group of travelling soldiers, known as a flying squadren, that scoured the desolate, abandoned country that once stood as the leader of human development.
It’s funny, it wasn’t the blood-sucking freaks that made the world like this. Or at least, not enitrely them. Hell, they’re half the reason there’s even humans to speak of. When the Partigan Virus hit, it wiped out millions in a few months. Within a few years, billions. There was no cure. No way to stop the virus. There was, however, people who were immune. These people gained the vampires attention.
At first, people presumed the vampires were mutated victims of the virus, or the experiments that the virus started in. You now know that’s bullshit. They’d always been there. On the corners of society, or so deep in the heart of it that no one noticed. Whether they described their “quirks” as being royalty, mad from the incestous relationships of their parents, or eccentric billionaires whose money had went to there head, they always occupied positions of power. They were always there. And when the virus hit, they stepped in. Not out of love, or admiration for mankind’s struggle to survive, but out of necessity. The humans were their prey, and they were going extinct. They gathered those who were immune. At first, the immune were told they were being put into programs to find a cure, and breed the immune. Soon, they realized what they had become: cattle. The people were bred in small, insular communities, where their entire purpose was to be a living bloodbag.
Jacob fought against the bloodsuckers. He fought for freedom. While many he liberated saw him as taking away their only chance at protection, their only chance at life, by destroying the only system, the only society left. Jacob fought on. Right now, the group he had assembled, little more than a dozen men, was satisfactory. Three ex-soldiers, two police officers, a fire man, two priests and a few others who happened to be well-trained with weapons. Jacob was leading them to Rattenburg, where they planned to ambush a caravan carrying a vampire nobleman, hopefully putting an end to his wretched life.
They walked along the slow, watching the horizon. Jacob noticed deer footprints in the snow. The deer population had exploded recently, as the hunters who once plagued them were wiped out. While a bellyful of hot deer meat would be a welcome luxury, Jacob hoped they didn’t find any. He didn’t want the group stopping their journey to hunt, which would only make it much less likely that they could reach the caravan’s ambush point on time. He knew that, while he was willing to miss the chance to eat, his group wasn’t. If they spotted deer, they were hunting. Jacob kept walking, drawing no attention to the deer.
Jacob noticed a cloud of cigarette smoke in the distance. He motioned for his men to keep low, crouching and moving forward. Two men, submachine guns hanging off their shoulders as their red coats blew in the breeze. Red Hands. The sick fucks who had abandoned humanity and pledged their surface to the vampires in the hopes of eventually securing a place among their kind, slashing open their palms every week to allow their vampires a taste, just to remind them who their masters were.
“Rizzo! Carl!” Jacob whispered loudly. “Take aim!”
The two men dropped to their knees, raising their rifle.
“Fire!” Jacob said, loud enough to startle the two Red Hands, who shuddered under a burst of fire.
The Red Hands collapse, their blood staining the snow red. Jacob crept forward, checking both their pulses, before motioning for his group to move forward. Charles splashed a vial of water in their face, while mutttering a blessing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jacob asked.
“Praying,” Charles said, surprised.
“You brought fucking holy water? What, you think that’ll help us kill vampires? You think our target’s Bela Lugosi? What a fucking waste,” Jacob said.
“How long until we reach the caravan ambush point?” Charles asked, ignoring the comment.
“Five minutes until the first one, but we’ve most likely missed them. If we hightail to ambush point two, we have a better chance to catch them,” Jacob said.
Five minutes later, they found themselves by the road. Miracouslouyl, no vehicles had made tranks in the thick snow covering the road. Jacob quickly had his men set up positions, waiting patiently. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes, passed without contact. Jacob watched as the sun disappeared, and a beautiful moon appeared.
“Nice night,” he said softly to himself.
He continued waiting. Soon, the caravan arrived. More accurately, what was left of it. A single Red Hand, driving desperately on a moterbike. Charles fired, killing him, and the bike scraped along the road to a halt.
“What the fuck…?” Charles asked, before he screamed.
Within seconds, there was bloodshed. Jacob watched as his men were torn apart. Claws tore out throat, jaws tore off heads, his men were torn in half. A claw smashed into Jacob sending him tumbling along the road. As he saw the distant fireball of what he presumed what the vampire’s caravan, he was reminded tonight was a full moon. Fuck. Of course those bastards that took advantage of the growing, untamed night would be here.
