Children of Sol

Anglestan

Janus 17, 1923 A.V

New Lundun

Vance

It didn't take too long after Henry left the factory before the sounds of rumbling and the heat of explosives nearby rocked the entire structure. No one anticipated the rather sudden attack against the city, nor could anyone have anticipated that a bomb would literally burst through the roof and explode right inside the factory. 

It started with the distant booming sounds of explosions in the distance. The loud sounds of coal shovelling into furnaces and the clanging of steel bars on the concrete floor had drowned out most of the noise outside, but they did take notice when people started running. A brief silence engulfed the factory building, just long enough for them to hear their impending doom. 

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Louder and louder, like the sound of death's drum approaching. Then, it came for them. 

A crash. The bomb fell directly on the roof of their building and burst through, falling to the floor before the explosion triggered with a sudden light followed by the heat of the flames being released from its shell. Mayhem ensued. 

Fire traveled across the air and spread like the plague, latching onto clothes, skin, hair, and anything that could burn. The force of the shockwave sent metal rods flying and spearing through several workers, impaling them with their own creations. The industrial furnaces creaked and fell off its hinges pouring molten into the floor and on the poor unfortunate souls who happened to be working in those sections. Hot coals fired like bullets zipping through the air, catwalks collapsing from steel frames crushing those below it. 

Big John fell from the top of the catwalk and into some of the molten metal, searing his skin to a crisp as the flames stuck to him like glue. Fragments from the bomb itself embedded themselves into the already writing screaming bodies of whoever survived. 

Vance was lucky. Luckier than anyone else. 

He had his back turned away from the point of impact when the bomb crashed through and wrought chaos. The force of the explosion blew him face first into the floor. When we came to, all he could see was the death and destruction all around him. 

He had burns on his skin and cuts all around his arms, and his back ached with every movement. He forced himself up with a bit of effort and shook his head. "Bloody 'ell. What the fuck happened…" 

He walked around what remained of the factory. The smoke was thick from the burning bodies and spilled molten steel. It mixed together to form a pungent smell that assaulted his senses, making him nauseous. Vance scanned around some more, slowly taking careful steps around the cracking broken glass all around. No. No one else survived..Not with the horrendous mangled state of most bodies he found. 

His teeth gritted against each other, hands balled into fists so tightly they turned white. "How the fuck… what in t he fuck happened?!" He stepped back taking one last look at the carnage before stepping out the building. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes took in the scene. 

It was a massacre wherever he looked. Bodies decorating the street, some crushed by large pieces of debris. Buildings barely held together by whatever scraps of material still stood, while some had toppled over completely into a pile of broken bricks scattered across the street. 

Cars, walkers, even some dead horses littered every block as far as he could see, with massive craters spaced around the street every fifty meters or so. His legs felt like jelly all of a sudden, threatening to collapse and fall under the weight of his body. He stepped back trying his best to keep himself steady as he clutched at his chest. 

"Is… is everyone dead?" he said to no one in particular, letting his own words echo in his head. He swallowed hard and furrowed his brow. "No. There must be someone. There must still be people who need help." 

Vance straightened up and began to walk the streets laden with destruction. He needed to find help. He had to at least find Henry. He had to still be around here somewhere, it wasn't too long ago since he left. There was a big chance he'd find him somewhere around here.

He paused in his step and quickly ran back to the factory building. He looked around and immediately went for one of the shovels on the floor. "This would do nicely." 

He slipped the shovel under his shirt behind his back and headed back out. He needed anything he could use as a weapon. He knew the only bastards that would do this were the same ones his father always drilled him about when he was younger. The strigoi. The Crescent. The leeches. 

His face contorted with disdain as his thoughts filled with rage for the monsters. These fucking animals. 

Vance shook his head, trying to calm his raging thoughts. He never thought the Crescent would launch another attack ever since the War of Darkness, but it seemed that evil didn't know when to give up, especially when their entire culture revolved around death and slavery. At least his old man's training and harsh lessons would actually be useful for once. His dad was always a paranoid fuck, but at least he was right about an attack coming sooner or later. 

He sighed. Doesn't matter, he was in this situation now. All he had to do was to survive it. He needed to find his friend too. He was certain that Henry would at least make it. He knew the lad for quite some time now, and while the young man himself might not see it, he knew Henry had a strength in him.

A few minutes passed, and there was still no sign of him. A bit of fear crept into Vance's mind as he took a deep breath, keeping an eye out. "He can't be dead. That bloke is a survivor. You'll find 'im," he said to himself, wiping the sweat dripping from his brow. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted an officer sprawled out on the floor, his head crushed by a large piece of debris, reducing it to nothing but a red paste where it should be. 

His eyes darted to the domina still in the officer's holster. He bent down and pulled it out of the holster and rolled out the cylinder to check its load. Nine silver lined bullets. Perfect. He closed the cylinder back up and slipped it in his pocket. It wasn't much but it was effective as a weapon against the strigoi, better than a lone shovel at least. It would have to do. 

He stood back up and continued to walk down the empty street. Every now and then he would feel the domina in his pocket, a sense of safety washing over him. As he walked, he suddenly heard voices in the distance. He quickly hid behind a piece of debris and poke his head out just an inch so he could watch and listen for them. 

Two strigoi soldiers came out of a nearby corner, their rifled dominas slung around their shoulders, speaking to each other in an ugly guttural language whose words Vance couldn't understand. He spat in disdain as he eyed the creatures, keeping his domina ready.

It would be so easy. So quick to just pop out of cover and put two rounds in each leech until their bodies feel flat on the floor, writhing in pain until they bled out. But he had to hold out. He couldn't give his position away yet. Not until he was certain. Any mistake now could get him killed and or swarmed by those bloodsuckers. 

He watched silently, pulling out the domina from his pocket. His chest heaved as he took a breath. Finger on the trigger, resting on it gently as he kept his eyes on the two Crescent soldiers. Of course they would send in ground troops. This wasn't just a simple attack. He thought. This is an invasion. 

He let out a slow exhale through his mouth and gripped the weapon in his hand. Two shots. That's all it would take. He had to do it fast. Quick enough so that the other wouldn't be able to react in time. He nodded to himself.

Vance twisted around to face the soldiers, keeping most of his body still behind cover, stretching out his hands as he held the domina steady, then quickly pulled on the trigger. The bullet flew out from the barrel, spinning across the distance and finding its mark right in the strigoi's head, breaking through the skull and coming out the other end. He fired again not a second after, adjusting his aim in just a fraction of the time and pulled the trigger again. The second strigoi, seeing his comrade shot down, was able to react fast enough to move his body before Vance could fire again, but it wasn't enough to completely avoid the bullet. It hit square in his shoulder making his stagger back. 

Vance didn't let up. He fired again, and again. Two more shots. One in center mass, and another in the chest. The strigoi screamed in pain as he writhed on the ground, the silver searing into his flesh, embedded into his muscles. Vance slowly stood up from his spot and approached the soldier, keeping his domina at the ready. 

"Ye fuckin' leech," Vance spat. He aimed right for the head and pulled the trigger without another word, scattering brain and skull on the pavement. "Serves ye right."

He lifted up his chin and eyed the corpse with disgust. "I bet there's more of ye out there. Yer kind's 'bout to have a rude awakening,. Welcome to Lundun," he said, sliding the domina back in his pocket. He eyed the rifled dominas the soldiers had and shook his head. 

He decided to go without it. Too long and cumbersome. He needed something light and easy to carry around. His handheld was enough. He continued his walk, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears open. It had almost been half an hour since the attack and he still hadn't found Henry. 

"Where are ye, mate?" he whispered to himself. 

Just then, he heard screaming in the distance. Desperate panicked cries for help. It didn't sound like Henry, but that just meant there was someone else out there who needed it. He quickly ran toward the sound, hoping that he wouldn't be too late.