Vampire Killer

Posted on Sat Oct 31st, 2026 @ 12:15pm by Captain Shran dh'Klar & Commander Samantha Howard & Lieutenant Kate Kono
Edited on on Sat Oct 31st, 2026 @ 12:16pm

2,221 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Creatures of the Night
Location: Planet Stoker - Vaseria

Night on this planet was something that had to be experienced. It was pitch black, and yet the light from the stars and the full moon provided enough silvery light to make travel possible, and to create wicked shadows. Shran and his people had followed Anna and Gabriel out of Vaseria and into the wilderness after being given silver blades to defend themselves with.

As they pushed out of the forest tree line they came to an open plain with long spears planted erect in the ground, bodies impaled upon them in various states of decay. "What the hell?" Shran questioned.

Granger looked away in fear and disgust at the visage as it came into view for her, Weasley staring in awe as Potter tended to her.

"Welcome to the Forest of Stakes" Gabriel stated flatly.

"Dracula is quite real my dear captain, and he was once called Vlad the Impaler for a reason. He is not one to be trifled with" Sypha noted.

"You are referring to the vampire story from Earth" Deanna speculated.

"It is more than just a story. It is a reality" Sypha replied.

Howls and then screams echoed in the air. Shran and Deanna both looked in the direction it seemed to be coming from. "That sounded like Sam vaguely" Shran noted.

"I believe it was" Deanna agreed.

Shran looked to Sypha, "If that is my people, I need to check with them, especially if they are in danger."

Sypha nodded. "Of course." She led the way, with Shran and the others following.


*************

Belmont led Sam, Kate, and the others out of his compound and through the woods to a place he called the Plains of Blood. The field was likely once rolling green hills, but under the light of the moon it was obviously no longer that. Each step felt damp, but the coppery scent in the air made it clear that the dampness here was not from rain, but from blood.

Kate’s next step sank into the earth with a soft, sucking sound. A cold wetness seeped around the rim of her boot, but the replicated leather held. The air was thick with the smell of rust and spoiled meat. She didn’t need to look down to know it wasn’t water soaking the open field beyond the forest because the scent alone was enough, clinging to the back of her throat. She tried not to think about how many bodies it must have taken to bleed out this much, to turn an entire woodland into a bog. The thought was less horrifying than it was exhausting. She kept close behind Belmont, pushing through the soggy ground. “You’re taking us to where we most likely will find Lucy, right?” she asked, her voice low. She didn’t bother masking her irritation. She just wanted this over with and she had no intention of walking through this twice.

Sam kept the wild images of rampant blood letting as far from her mind as she could keep them. Focusing on the current rational situation. They were walking through a stagnant moist field that smelt bad. There would be creatures hunting, and they may have to defend themselves. She fingered the hilt of the blade Belmont had given her, tucked securely into her belt and focused on remaining alert and not letting her imagination run away with her.

Belmont didn't look at Kate. He knew what they were going to find with this Lucy, assuming they did find her, and he knew what he was going to have to do. "We will find someone this way, hopefully your captain."

A long loud howl echoed through the air. Belmont dropped his head and muttered, "Once more God reminds me of how little he cares." He looked back at the others, "Time to move. Lycans are on the prowl, and I'd rather none of you die."

“I like that plan too,” Kate said, her voice catching on the cold air as they pushed closer to their destination. The brittle snap of twigs under their boots and the acrid slosh of crimson in the red grass echoed in the muffled dark. Somewhere ahead, the captain waited… or something did. Every shadow seemed to hold its breath.

Ahead the shadows of death loomed, a grotesque reminder of Dracula's past, the Forest of Stakes, long spears driven into the ground with bodies impaled upon them in various levels of decomposition. Belmont looked around and saw the threat emerging from the treeline behind them, likely coming from hunting in Vaseria. The choices were simple and primal, fight or flight, and normally he would stand and fight, he was protecting people at the moment. "Forward, full speed. You are safer amongst the Forest of Stakes than trying to fight here in the open."

Kate tried to hold her breath while running, a futile battle between lungs and legs. Each gulp of air was thick with the sweet, cloying stench of rot, a taste that coated her tongue and clung to the back of her throat like spoiled meat. Her eyes watered as she took in the field of corpses staked to the ground, their flesh sunken and leathery, some picked clean to bone by things she didn't want to imagine.

“I’ve killed a lot of people in my short life, but I never once thought about doing this to them after the fact…” The words were barely out before her stomach clenched violently. The heavy meal she’d eaten hours before surged up, a hot rush of half-digested steak and potatoes that splattered across the blood-soaked grass. “… son of a masticated biscuit…” she choked out between heaves, the curse wet and broken as her body emptied itself.

"You ok Kate?" Sam asked as she sidestepped the mess on the already putrid ground. For all intents and purposes, it didn't smell that bad considering what was going on around them. She grabbed the other woman by the arm and pulled her along, keeping her moving after Belmont.

Belmont stopped and looked back hearing Kate lose her lunch. He looked past her and Sam, past Lucy and Price and saw what he didn't want to see at this moment, two werewolves rapidly approaching. No collars, but black armbands, that meant Camila. Life had become so much more complicated she Camila had decided to follow Dracula here like some bratty child. Belmont pulled two silver daggers from his arsenal and in effortless fashion flung them as he yelled" Run! Straight to the castle!"

The blades offered a song as the whizzed past Sam and Kate, past Price and Mina, towards the intended targets. Each hit a target, but in both cases, it was in the shoulder only. The strike tripped one up, but sadly only the one, as the second lunged forward, pouncing on Mina. The girl couldn't even get out a scream before the sound of her bones crunching echoed and blood splashed violently as the creature's vicious maw clamped down on her, ripping open her neck and upper chest.

"Mina" Sam screamed, unable to take her eyes of the gruesome scene. She drew her blade and lunged forward, intent on saving a life if she could. Even with a Starfleet medical facility at her disposal, it would be a hard battle to save the young woman. Still, she had to try.

Belmont rushed towards the situation, pulling his sword out and readying it. The werewolf atop Mina remained there, ripping her to shreds. She was unable to move or say anything, death but mere moments away. The other snarled and rushed towards Sam, intent are pouncing on her just as its comrade had done to Mina.

As the werewolf leapt at Sam, Belmont pushed her to the side and swung his blade wildly, making a massive slash that nearly decapitated the creature. It fell to the ground, blood pooling around it. Belmont quickly rushed over an skewered it with his sword through the heart, and the creature began to return to its human form, deceased. Belmont turned to look at the other, which was now looking at him keenly while still atop the now deceased Mina.

One of the wolves turned its blood-flecked muzzle toward Kate, its yellow eyes locking onto hers over Mina’s ruined body. Something cold and ancient clicked into place behind Kate’s own gaze. All horror drained away, replaced by a predator’s clarity. She watched the creature coil to spring, muscles bunching under matted fur, and in the stretched silence before its leap, she was already moving.

She pivoted on her heel, planting her weight as the wolf left the ground. The sword Belmont had given her was an extension of her will as silver arc met the beast mid-air. She felt the blade bite deep, not in one clean cut but in a terrible, grinding progression through bone and sinew. First one foreleg severed, then the other, the hind legs following in a spray of hot blood and marrow.

The wolf’s snarl choked into a wet shriek as its trajectory dissolved. Its body, now a writhing mass of legless fur and raw meat tumbled past her, severed limbs scattered behind the wolf like broken kindling across the soaked ground. Kate tracked its flight without blinking, her face a mask of chilled fury. She watched it crash into the mud, still twitching, painting the grass in wide, arterial strokes. Her breath came slow and even. She did not look away.

Kate stepped over the scattered limbs and approached the whimpering ruin of the wolf. There was no haste in her, only a cold and deliberate economy of motion. She placed her boot on its muzzle and pressed down, not in a kick but in a steady, grinding application of weight. The beast’s head sank into the sodden earth. A wet, choked gurgle escaped it as its mouth and nostrils filled not with air but with thick, clotted blood. It tried to scream in a pitiful, ragged mix of whimper and gargled howl, but she only leaned harder, her expression flat and unmoved, watching as its throat worked uselessly against the tide of gore.

She did not look away when its body began to convulse, the legless torso writhing beneath her like a landed fish. She watched the precise moment its struggles grew weak, then frantic, then weak again. She watched the light leave its yellow eyes, not with a snarl but with a terrible, focused stillness. Only when the last twitch had stilled and the blood around its head ceased to bubble did she finally lift her boot. She left it there, drowned in the aftermath of its own kind’s slaughter.

Kate’s gaze fell on what remained of Mina, and the anger in her was a cold, sharp thing. She wiped the gore from her sword in one slow, deliberate stroke against her thigh, staining the fabric dark. The blade slid into its sheath with a soft, final click. She did not glance at the others, did not check for horror or approval on their faces. Her eyes were flat, her mouth a thin line. Let them stare. Let them judge. She had drowned a broken animal in its own blood, and she would do it again.

"Holy crap" Sam swore, picking herself up on the sodden earth and looking at the scene of carnage around them. Kate was still breathing hard, whether from exertion or from blood lust she couldn't tell - but she had seen a side of the other woman that she hadn't witnessed before.

"Kate... you with us?" She asked as she moved from corpse to corpse, checking for any vitals.

Kate moved past Sam, her boots sloshing the muck near what was left of Mina. She made herself look, her gaze catching on a pale shred of fabric still clinging to the twisted frame of a once-beautiful, intelligent young woman. A hard blink, then she turned her face toward the flat, dark grey horizon and drew a slow breath that tasted of rust.

“We’re not going to find Lucy, are we…” Her voice came out flat, hollow. It wasn’t really a question. She left it hanging there for Sam or Belmont to pick up if they wanted. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. The real mission was linking up with Shran. Everything else was just moving through a place that eats anyone who wanders.

Belmont understood the heartbreak that Kate must've been feeling. He wasn't good with the comforting, only telling the sad hard truth. "We may find your friend Lucy, but it won't be what you remember. And I will have to..." he stopped, not wanting to express that particular reality at this point.

Belmont looked to Sam, "I need to deal with Mina's body. If we just leave her as is, we risk her returning as something monstrous."

"Are we talking burial or disintegration?" Sam asked practically, knowing that neither were befitting of the woman.

"I'm afraid it isn't quite so neat. I need to stake her heart, behead her, and then burn the remains. Disintegration won't ensure that she returns as something unnatural" Belmont replied.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched playful yet sinister laugh, distinctly feminine in nature.


TBC

 

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