Since the dawn of time, there has always been a struggle between the forces of light and darkness. The eternal combat is ever present, defining even the very material of existence itself and allowing it to "be." Since the theoretical Big Bang, it has never stopped. The give and take of energy between the two give possibility to motion, to order... to consciousness. Neither side can ever be allowed to be completely destroyed for what then would be left? Only the void...

Ten years have passed since the last time humans and vampires could ever be spoken of as friends, and even then the relationship had been tenuous. The mercy shown to the immortal races had only proven to have been a mistake, for as soon as the blood drinkers had grown strong enough in number and power, they proved once again their true nature and reached greedily for world domination. Millions of people and thousands of vampires died. They would never again be trusted. 

Now, in modern times, vampires were blatantly hunted. Extermination of their curse on humankind would still take years, but at least now, no one would shelter them any longer. Once feared and renowned oldbloods were on the same menu as their progeny. Uprisings were dealt with with cold, hard force, using advanced technology, weapons, and machines. Vampires could not be allowed to create armies or gather into bloodthirsty warbands any longer. Research was actively being conducted to create a biological weapon against vampires and to potentially reverse the curse, but none so far had been successful. Most human cities were safe during the day and patrolled at night, but other parts of the country were known to be extremely dangerous, especially at night. humans were generally armed and wary nowadays, so feeding wasn't easy. Hunger caused many vampires to take suicidal risks. It was only a matter of time before the swarming mass of human population swallowed the last remnants of immortal blood. 


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It was broad daylight in the middle of summer when a man with long black hair rode in on a motorcycle to Oklahoma City. He wore a long leather jacket, jeans, boots, and a faded t-shirt with the words "In God we trust" on the front. He looked Latino, or maybe half Asian because of his hair, and he was fit and broad shouldered like a military boy. The bike had a few guns, nothing expensive, and a locked black metal case. 

The city had been the site of a great battle less than a year ago, where ranks of vampires had been decimated by the heroic and increasingly popular Purge and a few other 'sidekick' organizations. Word had it that this was now a prime recruiting ground for the human resistance, the perfect place for a stake out. As much as Mithias hated it, it was time to play theater. 

A coat of natural-tone color painted his skin to be more human, and dark contact lenses kept his flashy irises out of sight. Morning was the preferred time for travel, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No police pulled him over to check his tags as he pulled up to the church meeting place. He parked his bike with a look at the surrounding humans that informed them of the consequences of stealing his shit. The few outside gave him a welcoming nod. Today was the day of a scheduled, semi-secret mass meeting, according to a flyer he had gotten a hold of only several days ago. Mithias approached the church and noted the Purge symbol spray painted on the side of the building. 

For an immortal, it felt as if no time had passed at all, yet, the world was almost unrecognizable. The only constant was the fact that no matter what happened to it, the world would always be a strange place to a vampire. The comforts of the past would never again be known to them. War and trauma were their only familiar friends. 

His vampire forces had been scattered over the years. Bedivere hadn't showed up since Kilo Point. Mohowauuk was nowhere to be seen, nor was Magnus. The human, Martin, was reportedly dead much to Mithias' regret. The fledgling Ashilyn had also vanished, but a few of her progeny were still among the more powerful fledglings yet clinging to sovereignty. The only being Mithias had been able to keep in tough with was Hank, and he would be the only one that would know of Mithias' ridiculous and semi-desperate plan. 

Approaching the entrance, his disguise intact, the vampire encounters two large doormen who non-nonchalantly step in his way. "Hail brother." They say.

"Hail brother." The vampire replies, his small silver cross apparent over his shirt. 

The two pad him down for weapons, then wave him by. Mithias got in. he really didn't need weapons anyway. Now it was time to learn first hand what in hell these humans were smoking. By posing as a potential recruit, modern makeup hiding his skin's true color, Mithias would be able to see what went on underground that kept the Purge supplied with soldiers. 

He went inside, the aura of the church doing nothing to him, thankfully. Images of Jesus and the divine hero Kaminokage adorned the back wall. A set of stairs spiraled downward into a large, lighted atrium. The ceiling arched up in back to an open window, where the sunlight streamed down dramatically to the center stage. People were gathered around.  priest swung an incense burner around the stage and another occasionally flicked the audience with water. Mithias would make sure to stay out of his reach. An orator stopped up, beginning an inspiring sermon, if you could call it that, which incited many unified "Amen's" from the gathering. 

"Who among you has not sinned? Who among you has not suffered? All who give their life in worship shall be forgiven! It it God who has plagued you with the vampires. You must believe in him! God will grant you the strength... Show your worth and fight!" On he went. men, women, and even the young looked up and cheered, lifting their hands, partaking in the ritual. Yet of course some where more reluctant. The sermon seemed to be harsh, demanding, cut and dry, and certainly terrifying to a vampire. 

Throughout the spectacle, Mithias kept a watchful eye. Something was mesmerizing these humans, yet he did not see any drugs being passed out. No needles, no gas, no pills being passed around. Was it sheer inspiration that was making them so insane? Simple fanaticism? Not even in the days of the Templar did Mithias see such universally extreme self sacrifice. Mithias couldn't detect anything by air, yet it was like they all had a chip in their heads. he pulled up his hood and stood in a row of men in the back. 

Then the surprise came. A vampire, weak and wounded, was brought in, tied to a post that was erected on the stage. The speaker went on about the devil and his children and pressed a cross against the poor bastard, letting all behold the dramatic burn. He was spat on, cursed, forced to endure the sunlight, and people one after another came up to the stage to burn him with their holy icons. They'd burn him alive, right here, this day. 

"...you must begin your training now. To turn your back is to accept death and eternal hell. His grand holiness, the Pope himself, will come to bless you..."

Now that was an interesting piece of information. This "Pope" must have been a very important leader. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mithias caught a man trying to leave. Two bouncers in shiny shoulderplates got in his way and pointed him back inside. Certainly that wasn't the wise way out. Mithias could probably blur past them, but he didn't have his answers yet. he needed to know where this goddamned leader was. 

As the vampire suffered, Mithias narrowed his eyes. He was going to have to watch him die.