Marissa

Glorious America-a first world country that managed to recover from its recession barely fifty years ago- was targeted and nicknamed as being the stepping stone to world domination. The victory against the US proved critical in the VAR's success in surpassing the earlier attempts of ancient vampires. Two major differences separated modern day vampires from earlier ones. The first being the global economy and the technological advancements triggering the domino effect of research upon arduous research for both mortals and those plunged in darkness. The second difference was more biologically incriminate. The vampire race had evolved and taken root, blossoming into devils of the night, and in two months' time, the day.

 

Sunlight poured tormenting fear into each blackened, rotting vampire heart. If young enough, the brilliant gleams I once yearned for could estinguish the vampire's last remaining physical possession. In otherwords, the undead body. The soul, untouched by the sun, was already ripped from the vampire at the turning point. In our modern reign, the devasting and calamity of the sun will not be able to penetrate our skins with VAR's advancing technology.

 

Hawthorne and sliver were completely a different manner. If only the mortals used half the brain that "God" gave them, humankind might think of other ingenious ways to maim or kill a vampire. Some of their ideas ravaged the world as myth, such as the garlic and the crucifixes.The scent and taste of garlic is absolutely horrid-not deadly.

               

If only the incapable human mind could curl itself around the fact that vampires like me were not always blood hungry and seeking the domination of the species…after all without a little help here and there the humans’ population would seriously deflate. Blood, our crimson elixir, is still, unfortunately, necessary to vampirekind survival.

               

 Looking over the metal railing, a brown mass creeps into the horizon. A couple hundred troops are hastily at work on the newest addition to the VAR- the headquarter fortress. Directly east of the D.C. ruins floats my metallic island, a space station-like base with the buoyancy of a buoy.

               

“Queen Marissa,” a privet youngling addressed, “We’ve received news that the surviving US navy boats are out of commission on the east coast.”

              

“Where’s Commanding Officer Jacoby? Ahh…” his mind I read with ease of my old age, remaining physically young. Living for a few centuries certainly holds its luxuries. Blurring to the west side of my base, I cut off the Commander before he departed to the north. “Status?”

               

“Our boys destroyed the strongest remaining Navy ships. All that’s left is the runaway toy guns to British waters, ma’am,” Jacoby saluted. Jacoby, handpicked as a mortal by myself a century ago, morphed into a fine trustworthy vamp. He’s a strong candidate for my second in command, if he surrenders to the light. His strength is valiant and above the norm for only having a century of undead elixir in his veins. “None of our ships were sent into the depths. Minor damages, but we’re undergoing the repairs in our Virginian boat yard.”

               

“Good work, Jacoby. Back to work.”

               

 Everything is smoothly being executed to plan. The US shall fall to me, and my empire will rise once more.