[@Hour Error] The driver of the car grinned, though the sheen of sweat on his sunburned skin and the white flesh of his knuckles on the leather wrapped steering wheel betrayed his fear. There were four men in the car, all were armed with a variety of weapons, all were the parched brown of men who spent long months on middle eastern battlefields.

“Babygirl, I thought you would never ask...” the driver abruptly slammed his foot down on the accelerated, driving the worn pedal into the rusting floor and wrenching the steering wheel to the right. There was a squeal of tires and the reek of burning rubber as the battler vehicle vaulted the curb and shoved the vampire back. Someone screamed but it was a dull tinny sound compared to the roar of the engine. 

The car might have smashed the vampire into the boarded storefront of a defunct radio shack but, by chance a fire hydrant blocked its advance. The car struck the rusting hydrant with a crunch of deforming metal. The airbags didn’t deploy, either disconnected or never functional, which was to the advantage of the hunters for they would have been pinned in place for vital seconds if they had gone off.

The impossibly loud crack of automatic gun fire ripped the night. One of the men in the back seat had opened fire with his AR-15, shattering the windows in all directions from the concussion, spraying pieces of safety glass in all directions. Water gouted from the shattered hydrant, falling in a mockery of rain. The hunters might have been good, but no one was good enough to hit a moving target from a crashing car. The rounds flew high, raining masonry dust onto the floor below as they shattered the ancient red bricks of the store front.

Three of the hunters rolled out of the car with impressive speed, the fourth unable to open his ruined and deformed door, scrambled over the steering wheel towards the open door. 

“Take her down!” the leader screamed, his own attachment adorned rifle rising even as he spoke.