“Get the fuck off of my hood!” the man screamed.
Kyle, standing on the hood, got down on one knee, reached back, and thrust his fist through the windshield. He grabbed the man by his Polo collar, and in one motion, yanked him towards him, right through the windshield. Glass shattered everywhere, as the screams of the man’s wife and children lit up the night.
Kyle stood on the hood, grinning, lifting the man, holding him up high over his head.
The man was whimpering and crying, head covered in blood from the shattered glass.
Kyle reached back, and with a wide grin, tossed the man through the air like a paper airplane. The man went flying, hundreds of feet, and landed somewhere back there in the traffic, on the hood of some other car. Dead, Kyle hoped.
Kyle got back to business. He jumped off the car, and trotted towards the huge tanks blocking the bridge. Behind him, he could feel his hundreds of soldiers following suit.
As Kyle approached, all of the soldiers tensed up. Several of them raised their machine guns and pointed them at him.
There was a perimeter of no cars or people a good hundred feet away from the tanks, one which no one seemed willing to cross.
But Kyle happily crossed the line, walking right into the open space, right towards the tank.
“Freeze!” a soldier yelled through a megaphone. “Do NOT come any further! We WILL shoot on sight!”
Kyle smiled wider as he kept marching, right towards the tank.
“I said FREEZE!” the soldier screamed again. “This is your LAST warning! There is a curfew in effect. We have orders to fire on anyone at night!”
Kyle grinned even wider.
“I own the night,” he answered.
Kyle continued towards them, and suddenly, they opened fire. Dozens and dozens of soldiers fired their machine guns right at Kyle and his men.
Kyle felt the pain of all the bullets ricocheting off him. One after the other, they all bounced off his chest and arms and head and legs. They felt like raindrops, but stronger. He smiled at the thought of these pathetic human weapons.
Kyle saw the horrified expressions on the soldiers’ faces, as they began to realize that he was unfazed. They clearly couldn’t fathom how he was still walking. Or how any of his followers were, too.
But they didn’t have time to react. Kyle walked right up to the closest tank, got under it, placed both hands under the treads, and with superhuman strength, lifted it way above his head. He walked several feet, carrying the tank above his head, and came to the railing of the bridge. Several soldiers, off balance, fell off the tank as he walked. But dozens of others clung to it, grabbing hold of the metal, trying to hold on at any cost.
Big mistake.
Kyle took three running steps, hoisted the tank back, and threw it for all he was worth.
The tank went flying through the air, dozens of feet, clearing the railing’s edge.
It was airborne over the Brooklyn Bridge, plummeting down hundreds of feet towards the river. The tank turned and turned, and soldiers screamed as they fell off of it, plummeting. It finally hit the water with a massive splash.
Suddenly, the traffic jam came to life. Without any hesitation, the anxious New Yorkers stepped on the gas, and their cars sped through the now-open lane onto the bridge. Within seconds, hundreds of cars were racing out of Manhattan. Kyle looked at their faces as they went, and could see that many were already infected with the plague.
Kyle grinned wide. This was going to be a beautiful night.
Three
Samantha watched the massive double doors open up before her, creaking as they went, and felt a pit in her stomach. She walked into her leader’s chambers, accompanied by several vampire guards. They were not restraining her – they would never dare – but they did accompany her closely, and the message was clear. She was still one of them, but she was under house arrest, at least until she’d had this meeting with Rexius. He summoned her as a soldier, but he was also summoning her as a prisoner.
The doors closed with a crash behind her, and she saw that the huge chamber was filled. She had not seen a turnout like this in years. There were hundreds of her fellow vampires in the room. Clearly, they all wanted to watch, to know the news, what had happened with the Sword. How she had let it slip away.
Most of all, they likely wanted to see her punished. They knew that Rexius was an unforgiving leader, and that even the smallest mistake demanded punishment. A transgression of this magnitude would demand an extravagant punishment.
Samantha knew that. She was not trying to escape her fate. She had accepted a mission, and she had failed. She had found the Sword, yes, but she had also lost it. She had allowed Kyle and Sergei to steal it out from under her.
It all would have been perfect. She clearly remembered the Sword, sitting there, on the floor of the King’s Chapel, in the aisle, just feet from her grasp. She was only seconds away from having it, from fulfilling her mission, from being the hero of their coven.
And then Kyle, and that awful sidekick of his, Sergei, had to come marching in, knocking her out, stealing it from her grasp. It was unfair. How could she have expected that?
And now, what was she? The villain. The one who let the Sword go. The one who failed the mission. Oh yes, there would be hell to pay. She was sure of that.
All she wanted now was for Sam to be safe. He had been knocked out, unconscious, and she had carried him away, had taken him all the way back here. She’d wanted him close. She wasn’t ready to let him go, and she didn’t know where else to bring him. She had snuck in, and had stored him safely, way underground, in an empty chamber in their coven. No one had seen her, at least as far as she knew. He would be safe in there, away from the prying eyes of these vampires. She would report to Rexius, suffer her punishment, and afterwards, she would wait until daybreak, when everyone was asleep, and she would escape with Sam.
Of course, she couldn’t just escape outright. She’d have to report back first, to suffer her punishment, or else her coven would hunt her down, and she would be on the run for the rest of her life. Once she was punished, no one would pursue them. Then she could take Sam, and they could flee far from here, and settle down somewhere. Just the two of them.
She hadn’t expected the boy, Sam, to grab hold of her feelings the way he had. When she thought of her priorities now, she thought of him first. She wanted to be with him. She needed to be with him. In fact, as crazy as it sounded, even to herself, she could no longer picture life without him. She was furious at herself. She did not know how she had let it reach this point. An infatuation with a teenage boy. Much less, a human. She hated herself for it. But it was what it was. There was no use trying to change the way she felt.
The thought of this gave her strength, as she slowly approached Rexius’ throne, preparing for her sentence. She would undergo indescribable pain, she knew that, but the thought of Sam would keep her strong throughout it. She would have something to go back to. And Sam would be protected, spared from all of this. That was what made it all bearable.
But would he love her after she had undergone the punishment? If she knew Rexius, he would reserve the Ioric acid treatment for her, would scar her face as best as he possibly could. She may lose the best part of her looks afterwards. Would Sam still love her? She hoped that he would.
A hush descended over the chamber, as the hundreds of vampires edged in closer, eager to see the exchange. Samantha took several steps closer to Rexius, and got down on one knee, bowing her head.
Rexius, just feet away, stared down from his throne, his harsh, icy blue eyes piercing right through her. He stared at her for what felt like several minutes, although Samantha knew it was probably only seconds. She kept her head down. She knew better than to ever meet his gaze.