Days went by, and for an immortal, it was almost no time at all. The world was almost unrecognizable, save for the fact that no matter what happened to it, the world was always a strange place to a vampire. The comforts of the past would never again be known to them, and war and trauma were their only familiar friends. 

His vampire forces had been scattered. 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. 

A great battle had occurred in Oklahoma city, where ranks of vampires had been decimated by the heroic and increasingly popular Purge and their crippled sidekick Soldier. Word had it that this was 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. 

In broad daylight, in Oklahoma City, a human with olive skin and long dark hair rode in on a motorcycle. 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. 

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 through his dark brown contact lenses 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. Approaching, two large door men non-chalantly 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.