"I hate vampires," shouted Alan Whyte, and the relentless U.S. Army soldier blasted the undead freaks with his flamethrower, reducing them to a shrieking mess within minutes. The other five soldiers moved about the basement of the Saint Don Bosco Church in downtown Atlanta, Georgia, slaughtering the undead at will. When it comes right down to it, as far as Alan could tell, the vampires were quite stupid. Sure, they're stronger than humans, faster and more aggressive, but take away all that and they're easy to kill.
Tall and lean, with dark hair, green eyes and alabaster skin, Alan was born in Marietta, Georgia, and considers himself a proud son of the South. Alan's father taught him how to use every type of weapon, from guns to crossbows and knives, and this prepared him a great deal when the whole world lost its shit over the whole vampire apocalypse thing. America was built on willpower and gunpowder, and Alan figures that if the country is to be saved from the undead, real Americans must get back to basics. The strong survives and the weak perishes, it is the most universal law of them all...
"Nicely done," said Alan's colleague, a young African American woman named Monica Jones. Monica was tall and curvy, with smooth dark skin and short hair. The gal was easy on the eyes and reminded Alan of Eve the Rapper, from back in the day. Alan grinned and high-fived Monica, and they continued their tour of the house, torching anything that moved. Alan and Monica are part of the cleanup crew, in charge of taking out the undead in this part of Atlanta before humans could take back the city.
One house at a time, one neighborhood at a time and one city or town at a time, humans were taking their land back, and they showed the undead no mercy. As Monica and Alan exited the house, they emerged onto the dark streets of Atlanta, and the eerie quietness of it all spooked even these seasoned soldiers. Clutching their weapons, which consisted of guns, bayonets and flamethrowers, they braced themselves for anything.
"Where is everyone? Sergeant Ballantine and ten of his troops were supposed to be here," Monica said, alarmed, and Alan nodded in agreement. The streets were deserted, and dead silent. The two soldiers looked around, searching for their comrades. As they walked around, they didn't sense cool, calculating and downright inhuman eyes quietly assessing them. In the darkness, just beyond their reach, three feminine figures congregated in silence. The three were none other than Amore, Lilac and Rama, a trio of eons-old vampires, and the unholy sisterhood that rules the vampire underworld.
Moving silently, they made short work of the eleven soldiers they'd found in this neighborhood. The well-armed and well-trained men and women didn't even have a chance to squeeze off a single shot, the three vampire sisters were that quick. Rama licked blood from her lips and smiled at her sisters. Lilac nodded in approval while Amore maintained tactful silence. Rama likes to make a grand entrance when slaughtering wayward humans, and the dark queen simply cannot be denied, not even by her immortal sisters...
"Looking for me?" Rama said as she stepped out of the dark. The curvy, dark-skinned female vampire, born in India eons ago, stood there, smiling balefully at her enemies. Alan blinked in surprise while Monica actually crossed herself. Rama went after her prey, fangs bared and claws extended. Before Alan and Monica could squeeze off a single shot, Rama ripped out their throats and stood over their twitching corpses. Lilac and Amore seemingly materialized next to their sister, and watched her handiwork.