Lance smiled pointedly as he approached the back of the elevators. He passively listened to the conversation ongoing with his eyes plastered onto the screen of his tablet.
'I need to sign up for another class.' He thought about his mystical art training and Master Ka'l.
He had been assessed alongside his group as having magical awareness, which led him to be assigned to that dreadful mission that ended with them being sucked into a pocket dimension of a chaos demoness.
Master Ka'l and his cousin had emerged victorious from the situation; it was a small pleasure to know that the demoness was locked away in a secret location, which he knew meant she was here somewhere, probably underground.
The ding caused him to look up, and his eyes landed on his cousin, a massive man with a square head and some form of Kevlar, and a young woman who scowled at him when she met his eyes.
The women noted his cousin and intercepted him, blocking his escape path. The woman with his cousin made him stop talking and cut his eyes back to her, and she grew silent.
He looked at their heads, annoyed. Jeremy said his goodbyes, and Lance took the chance to escape.
A vice-like grip clamp on his forearm is forestalling his awkward flight.
He sighed and slumped his shoulder, hating those bio-contacts. He knew the new features had a live stream function, and then there was the facial recognition software that would spill his likeness across the internal network.
The British woman's words had irked him, and he retorted with a raised voice. He worked just like everyone else; he didn't even disclose his name when he signed up, afraid of being turned away because of his biological father's treatment of his younger cousin.
Before his cousin and his group could leave, he stopped the elevator.
"Please, no favors. Let me work my way up. My name has held me back all my life, and I honestly want a fair shake of things. You know how it is, but please let me work."
His cousin hadn't taken his declaration badly. He hoped not. He just wanted to have a fair shake of things for once. Growing up with that last name made it so hard that he moved away to attend college in another state.
'I just want some normalcy, ' he thought. Stepping into the spacious room, the Filed Commander, a mature super-soldier, stood on a pedestal with a broad smile.
'I hope our new assignment isn't so tough.' Finding a familiar face, he thought faster and sat directly behind the woman.
The Bug Ship landed silently, its limbs flexing as it planted into the abandoned lot. A local grocery store was visible from the half-hanging sign.
Across the street, separated by a plot of land with a small forest and assorted warehouses, the team could hear rhythmic thumping as their artificially enhanced hearing picked up the exuberant sounds inside the abandoned building.
A door opened, and a gangplank extended; the six walked down the gangplank. Lance scrutinized the building, quickly hearing the music from where he stood.
He uttered orders, but his team had already begun gearing up.
"Vampires, truly?"
His teammate asked excitedly as she stepped back into the exosuit, which reconfigured around her.
"You're excited about this, gods; you're one of those." the short, stubby Hispanic man said in accusation, his exo-suitsimilar but different; he was a tech jacket.
"And what's that, Geronimo," she replied as she opened and clenched her hands before squatting as she calibrated the systems.
Each member was outfitted with the newest exo-suits, which enhanced their strength and protected them from small and medium fire.
"Really?"
"Yeah, that's your code name. Don't say I'm racist or anything."
"Racist, what? Hey. What's up with you." The two began their usual light bickering.
Lance sighed, sliding the Hera-Kesh over his dominant hand.
"Lay off, guys." He said, exasperated.
He opened a newer crate and inspected it. His Bio-Contact relays relevant information to him.
His hand pressed into a bio-locked chest, and it slid open, showing an array of weaponry beyond what the world could access.
His hand roamed the weapons before he selected his kit, going for his usual light and impactful style.
One weapon in particular was the oddly shaped Zat'ni'katel, a handheld Goa'uld weapon formed in the shape of a coiled serpent.
The Zat'ni'katel was nicknamed "zat gun" by the technicians, but he heard that his cousin had been the one to nickname the weapon.
The zat uses a different form of energy, less potent than a staff weapon. Lance had recalled the staff weapons but wasn't cleared to use them, plus they were for the heavy-armed infantries. His squad was more lightly armed, at least in appearance. Each had their specific weapons and gear of choice. His kit had been based on safeguarding his life, especially with what he was doing.
He picked it up and read the instructions. One shot will usually render a victim unconscious.
Two shots will kill most subjects. Three shots disintegrate them.
"Sure, Mr. York." He said in a joking tone, elbowing the man next to him In the side, and he, too, chuckled as he geared up.
The other three, a man and two women, chuckled but didn't add to the lighthearted barbs between the two.
The Lead operative, Lance York, shuddered at remembering his soul being taken. A nasty soul-sucking spell had captured him and five others, and the other five had a week of recovery inside the coffins, unofficial name. His cousin was unique and strong.
He shivered as he recalled that trapped place. He and the six had stuck together after that, taking on more assignments, being helpful, and racking up contributions, hoping to get their hands on better equipment and a serum.
Lance had other ulterior motives. His hands balled when he thought of that man, but a savage grin appeared on his face.
'You have no idea what's coming, old man. For mom, I'll see you bleed.'
"Stop brooding in the dark like a cookie cut-out villain,' his teammate said, pinching his shoulder.
"I'm not. There's light above." He countered.
They looked up at the old crooked streetlight, which decided to flicker, and the group laughed.
It was surreal that he had turned into this, but it was fun, if not scary; at times, he knew that he had to take his father down with his own hands.
He just hoped Jeremy didn't mind his side of the story. He had learned about his aunt and uncle's demise. The moment it occurred, the entire family was relayed the information, and he remembered his mother, a mistress at one point of his father, the lackey of the current York C.E.O, and the youngest brother of Jeremy's father.
"We got lights inside," Geronimo whispered, removing a drone from his waist and tossing it.
"Why do you always do it that way?" She asked, pointing at the drone as he had a habit of tossing the drones into the air.
"He plays too many video games," another whispered.
Geronimo smiled and shrugged.
Lance turned and made a motion to go silent.
Vampires were supernatural beings. They could hear their heartbeats if they were within eyesight range.
He squatted, raised his palm, and constructed a hardlight representation of the building.
Alex, Brittany, and Roger pointed at the three and made a line through the building, breaching the front and plowing through, weapons hot.
He eyes Geronimo and Sam, the other female in the group. She has a large rifle attached to her back, a sniper, and she gives him a thumbs-up.
You with me, he circled the building and highlighted a side entrance that led to the roof, from top to bottom; he circled a spot in the middle where the rendezvous would be.
He made more gestures and removed three balls from his satchel; Geronimo's eyes enlarged.
T-spheres, the tech lover thought as he watched Lance activate them.
He looked at the York with anticipation. Lance noted his glare.
Lead-Lance York: I only have these. And I'll ask if we can get some more. This particular drone is upper echelon-only.
Alex: Which means York only.
Geronimo: I had the chance to read a report on them. It said these are curious drones, nearly bordering sentient thoughts.
Brittany looked at him askance.
Brittany: Don't tell me you believe the rumor.
Lance read the message and looked at the two in confusion.
Roger smiled and began to type away at the air.
Roger: The rumor stated that those spider things are sentient, and the Reese person who always uses hardlight is a super-intelligent artificial intelligence.
Lance's brows rose at that. He had seen those things around, breaking down materials, and even heard of the little things stealing stuff from the room.
He hadn't stopped them from talking as long as it didn't interfere with the mission. He also had his thoughts, but they were future Lance's problems, and he needed to focus on the present.
He activated them with a mental push, and two of the T-spheres hummed and spurred around, scanning his companions before scanning random debris in the vicinity.
They all watched. They made eye contact and moved toward the rave. Vampires had set up the Rave. It was hard to believe at the time, but they all saw the bodies, draining of blood, primarily young people, which had led their investigators to a rave that moved around randomly.
He tapped Roger's shoulder and gestured for him to take point. He moved to the right, Alex left, Brittany middle, and their tech-support rear, as he had eyes in the sky canvassing the area and sending real-time data back to them.
____________________________________________
Blade
Strobe lights and rhythmic basso hid all signs of vampire predation.
He snarled at the open feeding that was occurring.
'Bastards are getting out of hand.' He thought, bumping into a vampire that was feeding from a young girl.
The vampire unmatched and turned toward him; whatever bravado he held drained from his face faster than he could drain blood from his victim; he paled, let loose, and raised his hands, taking steady steps back.
He ignored the Vampire.
All around him, feeding what is ongoing. He knew most were high on the new drug that was laced with something called M.G.H. Whistler is to believe was enriching human blood with a minor side effect of granting human powers, which some vampires were able to take on to a lesser degree.
Blade, a dhampir or day-walker what his prey called him, yanked the silver nitrate katana from the infected vampire's enlarged mouth.
He pushed forward; his presence was unnoticed as he made it upstairs to the single-occupied office.
He flashed forward, the bus figure blurring, as he kicked in the double door. The door splintered, and wood and metal from the frame sprayed outward, causing shouts of pain and irritated hissing to pour from the room.
He stepped in, eyes glued to him before realization sunk in. He removed his shades and jerked his head over his shoulder, and the humans rushed past him.
"Where is Deacon Frost?" he shouted over the loud music, his voice clear as day to the superhuman creatures of the night.
"Fuck you, bitch." a lanky man shouted, his hand reaching for a gun.
He reacted, his hand flinging a shuriken toward the creature, like most of his weapons, either silver or a silver compound, was lethal to supernatural kind.
The man had attempted to lean out of the way, but Blade was stronger and possibly older than the younglings.
The vampire screamed and flailed before falling over the sofa. The other occupants leaped for cover and weapons as the room exploded into chaos.
____________________________________________
Geronimo: Whoa. We got vamps fighting upstairs.
Lance stopped and watched what was happening. It was odd. One Vampire was showing up on the scan, almost like a human.
He tagged the signature and sent it to the investigators, who usually watched over the missions for live assessments; almost like customer care, they could walk an operative through a mission that suddenly got difficult or was sent in the heavies.
He didn't want that. He knew his cousin would probably show up again and save him.
Sam: I should have gone with close range. Look how fast they're moving.
Lead-Lance York: Let's get in there and see what's what. Weapons hot!
Agreements flooded the chat.
Lead-Lance York: Try to avoid friendlies that hit everything cold.
Lance Xu York sent the T-Spheres into the dance room and signaled Geronimo to cut the power on three.
He raised his hand and counted down slowly, and his heart began to fluctuate in his chest like an excited racehorse.
He made the fist.
The power cut, his T-spheres erupted in disorientating noise, and red and blue lights, and vampires shrieked; Sam began to fire, her shots penetrating walls, hitting targets through the commotion, missing humans by millimeters, and avoiding the front team that had bottle-necked the front.
Sam was an ace, an Olympic Sharpshooter who had gotten the short end of the stick; she had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer that had a 97% fatality rate. A.T.C. covered her and invested in her healing, curing her of her stage four rare form of cancer and training her further.
On the other side, Roger, a six-foot redhead Italian, if you would believe it, a size thirteen book, kicked open the door and made entry.
Immediately, a sea of school- and college-aged teens stormed around them, their eyes enlarged at the heavily armored trio.
Vampires dropped one by one, no doubt from Sam.
The trio removed their side arms and opened fire. The vaporizer enemies from Same Kills quickly realized that the special ammunition worked much better if they aimed for the heart and put one in the head. A headshot could kill one, but a head and heartshot always meant death.
A vamp leaped overhead, clinging to a railing and leaping across the room, claws extended.
Brittany offhand reached for her waist, drawing her Zat'ni'katel. Her first shot missed. She growled and stepped forward, making herself the target, her eyes pulsating under her cowl and fire six times, hitting the vampire's center mast; the final plasma current-like energy blast turned the creature into dust as her remains sailed through the trio.
Another, a male, slung a woman out of the way, her body hitting a beam in a sickening crunch. The teen screamed and scrambled, the disorientating noise quieting down, leaving the loud exchange of gunshots audible.
Roger's fist connected with the vampire, and the creature stumbled back.
He sliced his hand across the air toward his opponent, and a beam emerged in an arc, cutting the creature down the middle.
Roger had used the Za'tarc, another Goa'uld weapon. This one was similar to the Kara-Kesh and Hara-Kesh but had only two fictions, one of which Cole locked out. He didn't want anyone to become Kamikazes.
The Small device is worn on two fingers and releases a powerful burst of energy in the form of a cutting beam. The laser-like weapon can cauterize flesh and easily kill targets and is commonly used by Za'tarc assassins — innocent men and women who the Goa'uld has brainwashed. It is also the weapon of choice for some Goa'uld.
Alex whistled and scanned the area for more enemies. When she saw them, her hands on her ears, the disorienting noise from the red and blue flashing spheres made those with a particular set of super-hearing extremely uncomfortable.
Brittany fired again — once, twice — but the vampire blurred, zigzagging across the floor in a corkscrewed charge. Her third shot clipped its shoulder. Not enough.
Lance and the others came crashing into the main dance floor, Geronimo at his side with a compact launcher already mid-fire. A silver-coated canister struck the creature's path and burst in a hiss of aerosolized garlic and ultraviolet light. The vampire shrieked as its skin blistered, throwing itself sideways into the wall, scraping along it like a wounded animal.
She mentally updated the file. The Zat'ni'katel weapon worked but required additional shots to take down a vampire; there is no telling how many an elder may take.
Roger said something, but she couldn't hear. She smiled knowingly and gestured toward her ear.
"Sam, eyes on the fast mover!" Lance barked, voice crisp through the comms.
Already sighting, Sam steadied her rifle, tracking the blurring movements through predictive telemetry. "Target acquired," she whispered and squeezed the trigger.
A sharp crack echoed. The vampire's head jerked — the first round glanced off its temple, but the second entered through the eye socket. It flinched but didn't fall.
"Goddamn regenerators," Geronimo growled.
Lance activated one of his T-Spheres, issuing a mental command. It zipped into the rafters, bathing the room in a rotating cone of high-frequency light to disrupt supernatural sensory acuity. The vampire twitched violently in response.
"Now!" Lance shouted, surging forward.
He crossed the distance in a blur, using his Kara-Kesh to project a concussive wave that slammed the disoriented creature into the floorboards. The force cracked the planks.
But the creature didn't stay down. It howled — deep, guttural, wrong — and its form distorted. Bone and sinew shifted beneath the skin, bulging and warping, until it stood taller than a man, draped in writhing flesh, half-humanoid, and half-nightmare.
"What the hell are we fighting?" Brittany muttered, staring wide-eyed.
"Not your standard vamp," Lance said grimly, switching weapons.
The vampire snarled, its claws dragging sparks from the concrete as it righted itself mid-slide. A moment later, it disappeared in a blink—reappearing behind Brittany with a downward slash already mid-swing.
She turned on instinct, her armor taking the brunt of the blow, but the impact still sent her skidding. Her HUD glitched momentarily, warning her of compromised shielding on her left shoulder. She rolled, twisting in mid-air, and fired blindly with the Zat'ni'katel. The plasma bolt grazed the vampire's arm—it flinched but didn't stop, already lunging again.
"Hey, bloodsucker!"
The vampire turned—and Lance was already mid-throw. One of his T-spheres shrieked overhead, ejecting a concussive sonic burst. The vampire staggered—long enough for Sam to draw a bead and fire.
Crack!
A high-caliber round tore into its thigh. Another followed through the shoulder. The creature dropped to one knee but didn't fall. Instead, it screamed, a piercing, otherworldly sound that sent shudders down everyone's spine.
Behind Lance, Geronimo scrambled to deploy a sentry-pulse battery—But before he could activate it, the vampire moved—a blur of claws and teeth, straight for Lance.
Lance didn't retreat.
He stepped forward.
His palm lit up with hardlight, forming a concussive shield just in time to absorb the lunge. The vampire struck it with enough force to crack the surrounding concrete—but the shield held. Barely.
"You want York blood?" Lance growled. "You picked the wrong generation."
He twisted, activating the Zat'ni'katel point-blank.
Zap!
One. The vampire convulsed.
Zap!
Two. It fell, screeching.
Geronimo assembled gun whittled before unloading on the macabre creature.
She mentally updated the file. The Zat'ni'katel weapon worked but required additional shots to take down a vampire; there is no telling how many an elder may take.
Roger said something, but she couldn't hear. She smiled knowingly and gestured toward her ear.
A man grabbed Alex. He easily dislodged the man, swept his legs from under him, and leaped away as Brittany shot him with the taser-like gun that reverted to its resting position when she was done.
The ceiling caved in, and a black male in all black tumbled through, snarling and slashing at another stranger vampire. The two slammed into the floor, cracking it as the strange vampire's mouth opened, unleashing tentacles that coiled around the other throat, threatening to pull him into its widening maw.
"The fuck is that." Shouted Roger, training his gun on the newcomers.
The black-clad male rolled away, his hand withdrawing a silver blade. The creature flipped on all fours and hissed at everyone as it shifted around before its crab walked away at insane speeds toward Lance, Sam, and Geronimo, still in the back end of the buildings.
Roger's foot shifted in anticipation. Everyone could tell the vampire before them was different. He made a move but screamed as six shuriken embedded into his upper torso, miraculously finding piercing his suit; admittedly, the exo-suits weren't the best but were secured enough to ward off the small fire and protect them against their targets.
"Son of a bitch," snarled the redhead.
Alex opened fire. Unbelievably, the man, an obvious vampire of some kind, blurred out of sight, which was disorienting. He moved faster than their contacts could track, which was a feat. The suits hummed as they tried to adjust and assist their users, the synth muscle moderately pushing their muscles to react faster.
Alex was hit. First, the vampire blade cut through the automatic gun, grabbed Alex, and threw him through a nearby wall.
Roger lunged from the ground; he and the vampire grappled for a moment before he was ripped off his feat and dangled in the air; the vampire hissed at him, fangs extending. Brittany hit him then, and he dropped Roger and slid across the floor but moved unbelievably fast toward her.
Brittany dived out of the way of a swipe of his blade, but he followed her, his blade angling for her heart.
____________________________________________
Blade smelled the individuals in the room like the reaper. They, too, smelled different; what kind of vampires they were, he didn't know, but their blood wasn't human.
The man opened fire and moved, pushing his ungodly gifts to the limits, knowing he would need a tranq soon or break his rule again and be forced to feed.
He grabbed the man and slung him across the room. He yelped in surprise, and his figure impacted the wall.
His blade came down toward the female, but she moved; he followed her, his blade aiming for her heart; she reacted, a thin blade meeting his as she stumbled back, grunting in pain, her arm dangled by her side.
A blast hit him; he turned his chest, smoking from the strange weapon that shot out electrifying plasma blasts. A second hit him, and a third slid across the ground before he arrested his movement with a hiss of anger.
"Fuck, he's resistant." The female called out.
The three were back on their feet, their eyes glowing through the cowls. He stared at them, startled at the sight; who or what are they? The man should be down; he was sure his spine broke, and the other, her arm, didn't seem damaged.
"More of their experiments; today is your lucky day because I'm angry." He said, withdrawing a second blade.
"Stand down, I repeat, stand down." Blade pressed his hand toward his ear, his eyes on the trio; his mentor must know something he didn't.
"Deacon isn't here, but another Reaper was being housed here. Some others, I think their vampires allowed it to escape."
"No, son. Those guys are A.T.C., and they know about you and us. I don't know how, but I found some at our hideout. Check this out; they want to help."
The half-vampire walked forward, dragging a body behind him. His coat flared as he released the corpse and approached the twitching creature at Lance's feet.
"That one's not normal," Blade muttered, his voice low, gravelly. "It's been turned… but the strain's different. Enhanced. Experimental."
He looked up, meeting Lance's eyes.
Lance's expression didn't shift. "Wasn't expecting to find the Daywalker here."
Sam muttered low. "Holy shit, that's really him."
Blade ignored her and staggered slightly. "Frost's not here. But his scent is. He was. And he left something behind."
He nudged the largest corpse with his boot. The body twitched. Still alive — barely.
"Enhanced," Blade said. "And infected with something old. Not just M.G.H."
Lance looked at Alex, who scanned the creature with a flick of her device.
Alex: "Foreign DNA sequences. Not just vampiric. There's something… parasitic."
Sam: "Could this be another chaos spawn?"
Lance's expression hardened. "No. This is something newer. But just as dangerous."
He keyed into the team-wide comms.
Lead-Lance York: "Mission update. Situation compromised. We have an advanced hybrid strain. Possibly engineered. Unknown vector. Requesting full biohazard decon and black-bag team at site. Secure all evidence. Vamp nest is clear. Civilians safe."
He paused.
"And… we've made contact with a third-party operator. Friendly. Name: Blade."
Geronimo's voice filtered back. "Holy crap, Blade?"
Brittany: "We're getting drinks with him after this."
Sam snorted.
Blade was already moving, shouldering past them.
"You got a name, York?"
Lance followed. "Lance."
Blade looked back at him. "That's not the one I meant."
Lance didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Blade just nodded, as if something unspoken had been confirmed.
"Good," the Daywalker said. "You're gonna need it."
The vampire stirred. Blade stepped forward, katana unsheathing with a clean whisper of metal.
"No, wait," Brittany said, wiping blood from her cheek. "We need to study—"
Shhk.
Blade didn't wait.
The vampire's head rolled cleanly away.
"You study what's left," he muttered.
Lance exhaled.
"Everyone status?" he called out.
"Alive," Sam replied, reloading. "Mostly rattled."
"Roger's bleeding but still mouthing off," Brittany added.
"Geronimo lost his lunch but not his fingers," Sam added, smirking.
"Shut up," Geronimo groaned, wiping vomit off his armor.
"Rooftop's clear," came Alex's voice over the comms, faint but steady. "Got a nest up here. Might've been coordinating."
Lance frowned. "Stay put. We'll sweep and converge."
Blade moved toward the exit without another word, dragging another corpse in his wake.
"Where are you going?" Lance asked.
"Frost's not here. But his stink is," Blade said. "I follow it till I find him."
He paused at the door.
"York. You and your people did well. But next time—be faster. Some of those kids didn't make it."
Lance felt the weight of that as the silence returned. His fist tightened around the Zat'ni'katel.
"We will."
Blade nodded once—and vanished into the shadows.