General Cyrus's lungs burned with fire as sprinted toward a convoy of over a dozen Humvees and tanks. He lowered his shoulders in determination, leaving the screams of the dying behind. But he could not out run remorse, and it it stabbed at him like icy daggers. Thunderous explosions and the crackling of .50 caliber machine awoke him from his torture. The worlds soldiers were giving it their all in this war. They had to, for this is the only chance they have.
He crossed the distance to the gathering of vehicles and ground forces, his joints aching with a furry that would have caused a man with less power of will to heed. The safety of sheer numbers was only a few yards off.
"Predator and prey!" a voice said from behind. There was nothing but carnivorous malice in it.
"Look out!" a soldier among the vehicles shouted, aiming his grenade launcher toward General Cyrus. "Get prone!"
General Cyrus threw himself down on the road, and landed so hard it knocked the wind out of him. He heard the whoosh of the grenade as it soared above his head. Orange and red light radiated around him as the explosion signaled the kill. He rolled to his side and saw the burning the remains of a blond haired vampire, flames singeing his hair.
He started to scramble to his feet as two women rushed forward, their long hair whipping behind them like flags. The one on the right ground to a halt and pulled down the other. A breath of air later tracer bullets streaked over head as dazzling red needles.
General Cyrus rolled his body to the left, out of the line of fire and launched himself upright. He aimed his weapon at the women lying on the ground. When they crawled out of the way and out of his sights he madly searched around for where they had moved to. They move like serpents. The fastest serpents on Earth.
"Ohf!" he yelped as a shriveled up aluminum trash bin flew toward him. He dove out of the way, everything seeming to go in slow motion. Every thump of his heart, every beat of his pulse, every breath, every thought passing with a dream like feel. He somersaulted on the hard concrete as the wall beside him shattered and sprinkled him with powder and chunks of cement.
Without taking aim he fired his weapon from where he lay, the recoil shoved the stock of the weapon back, inches from his face. He gritted his teeth against the strain in his bicep and forearm. As he got up he saw that he hadn't hit the women, but he had startled them into moving into the line of the soldiers fire. He almost felt sorry for them as their bodies were broken apart like marble, pieces of flesh clanging on the road with the thuds of stone. A javelin rocket flashed past him and finished them off as their remains had began to reattach themselves.
General Cyrus wheezed as he half ran and half limped toward the soldiers. Gunfire still rang, and became deafening as he neared. He waved his hands in the air and shouted, "Hey! I need some of you to follow my lead!" It came out in a choked manner.
"Hooah!" a trio of rowdy young men and two woman said. They jogged over and stood in front of him.
"Are you injured?" a short and stocky one said.
He shook his head and gazed at the darkening sky as sonic booms sounded in the distance. Almost immediately, fighter jets flew over head. They were so low that he could see their guns and missiles attached to their bellies.
"Aren't they beautiful!?" he hollered, his voice almost completely muffled by the drums of war.
"Yes they are, but what exactly do you want us to do!?" a man yelled over the chaos.
"I need you to drive one of these Humvees!" General Cyrus shouted. "And I needed you, you, and you inside with me, and you man the .50 cal!" he said pointing to each man and woman.
One of the men approached him apprehensively. "Are you... the General Cyrus?"
He nodded.
The soldiers exchanged baffled glances and then stared at him in awe.
"There's no time! So let's move!" General Cyrus said, snapping the young soldiers out of their nostalgia. So very young. He eyed two who looked like they could have been no older than seventeen. Desperate times had called for desperate measures. Anybody and everybody was a fighter.
Without a seconds hesitation they headed to a Humvee and piled in. General Cyrus went over to the drivers side and threw the door open, stepped in and slammed the door shut. The keys already in the ignition, he turned them, the motor humming to life. The rumble of the motor was barely audible despite the vehicles size.
One of the soldiers took position on the .50 caliber as he pressed down the accelerator. He steadied his breathing as he left the convoy, everything ahead illuminated in the ghostly white glow of the headlights. "Keep your eyes open and your finger on the trigger!" General Cyrus said, as he maneuvered around a smoldering barricade of civilian cars.
"What in the-" the gunner said as a solider was flung through the air by a vampire, and crashed through the window of a building on the other side of the street.
The machine gun then spit lead at the vampire, each shot rattling General Cyrus's eardrums. In his peripheral vision he saw the vampire run toward a door, breaking through it and disappearing inside.
"Bloody blazes!" the gunner exclaimed, "I lost it!"
"Don't you worry Private McCarthy," the woman said, "You'll be able to shoot more."
General Cyrus tuned out the chatter and concentrated on controlling the Humvee over the treacherous terrain of the debris laden street. A twisted stop sign loomed in the distance, the clamor of war on echoing from both forks in the road. Up ahead, was fires, coughing up the smoke of the charcoaled vampires.
General Cyrus slammed his foot on the accelerator and the Humvee rushed forward at a tremendous velocity. "Wow! Nice! That is refreshing!" the gunner, who he now knew was named Private McCarthy, hollered. "Dang! They're in a hurry too!" he said as Humvees shot out from the left fork and torpedoed to the other side.
"Ah sheeze!" a man with a Yankee accent said as a Humvee was propelled into the air, and spun like a ballerina before it slammed back down with a propagating thud. It continued to slide forward as sparks sprayed out from underneath it.
General Cyrus spun the steering wheel to the right, and narrowly avoided a head on collision with the destroyed vehicle. He furrowed his brow when he layed eyes on the vampires that had tackled the Humvee aside like a toy.
"I got the suckers in my sights now!" the gunner said.
The vampires lashed out to the right and rammed into the bumper of a Humvee, imploding it inward, and then flipped it on it's back as the gunner was thrown out. He plopped onto the ground like a rag doll. The Humvee fell just inches from his legs. A second later, gaping holes appeared on the vampires, and then they were completely blown apart. Their statue hard bodies fell to the ground, powder poofed up.
"Finish the Sparklies off!" the woman said.
"General Cyrus!" the man in the passengers seat said. "Slow down so I can drop a grenade on those broken statues!" He unclipped an incendiary grenade from his belt, and leaned out the window.
He nodded and eased his foot off the gas. He glanced at the rear-view mirror, and expected to see a blood sucker running toward them. "Just shoot it! There's a chance you might miss with a hand grenade!" he ordered.
"Alright General," he said as put the grenade on his lap, and aimed his gun out the window.
The boom of the weapon as the soldier fired it made General Cyrus's ears ring. The acrid aroma from the guns barrel stung his nostrils and eyes. He blinked against it.
"Holly Mother of God!" the gunner screamed, lowering himself into the Humvee. A large advertisement sign sliced through the air above the vehicle where the gunner had been.
"You would have been cut in half if you were still there!" said a young man who sounded like he was merely a teenager.
Panting, the gunner clutched at his gold necklace, a crucifix dangled out from his fingers. His knuckles were white and flaking from wind burn.
General Cyrus bit his lip as ground forces ran along the sidewalks in the opposite direction as him. He squinted as something in the distance caught his attention. As the Humvee neared he saw it was a vampire holding a stop sign like a spear. "Get down!" he ordered as the vampire hurled the sign. It pierced the glow of the headlights, coming in fast.
He swerved as the sign impacted with the bullet proof windshield and shattered the entire right side, spider-webbing cracks covering the right side. Unable to see nor think, General Cyrus frantically swerved. The tires squealed on the road like wild animals. He felt the Humvee lurch to the left and then as a resounding clash echoed, his body was thrown forward, and everything went black.
************************
General Cyrus blinked, seeing nothing but hazy darkness. He groaned, his head throbbed so painfully it felt as if his skull had been shattered. He felt around with his rams, the floor was carpeted. It felt smooth under his palm and he brushed over it with his hands.
"He's regained consciousness," a soldier said.
General Cyrus launched his upper torso up off the ground when an explosion went off outside. He had forgotten that there was a war going. How hard had he hit his head? "Where, where are we?" he said. He scanned the area. There were several couches, a mahogany wood table, a three desktops in a far corner, and an office like area with a receptionist desk beside it.
Wherever they were, they were not safe. The vampires, they said, had an unparalleled acute sense of smell. Able to detect live prey from miles away. He could picture them now as they stalked the streets, searching for both stranded soldiers and civilians. Where are the civilians? It had suddenly hit him that there wasn't a single non solider on the streets. Have they all been wiped out here?
"We're holed up in an abandoned hotel General," a soldier finally said.
He squinted at the man, and he gradually came into focus. "What's your name?"
"Private Wesker, General Cyrus," he said.
"No, your first name."
"Daniel," he said in his deep, yet sympathetic voice. He was exceptionally tall, with the bulk of an American football player.
How he missed those games. Now the stands were empty, never again would they be filled with cheering spectators, no more happiness. There would be nothing. Nothing, unless the war was won.
"Listen General Cyrus," a woman said, "are you feinelg well enough to walk?"
He hesitated. "I'm... not sure," he said, his head swam with dizziness. He tried to get up on his feet but slumped back down. He raised an arm and felt his forehead and pulled away quickly, wincing. There was a thick knot aching knot.
Tanks rumbled outside the hotel walls, mortar rounds were discharged. "Sounds like we're missing out on the hunt," said a boy. There was just no other term to describe him.
"How old are you?" he asked steadying himself by pressing his back against a couch. He slowly breathed out, and shut his eyes. When he opened them he took in the five soldiers, three men, and two women. The boy didn't respond, but it really wasn't important, so he let his question slide.
"What are your names?" he said.
"I'm Private Austin," a woman leaning against a wall said.
"No," General Cyrus said. "No more formalities please, we are all in this together, therefore friends."
Two of the male soldiers exchanged glances, but quickly returned their attention to him.
"OK," she said, nodding slowly. "I'm Samantha, and this is Meredith," she said gesturing to the short woman beside her. Even with her uniform, Meredith still looked frail.
"I'm William, your gunner," a dark skinned man said cheerfully.
General Cyrus nodded, recognizing his golden necklace with the crucifix. He knew that people like him, who were truly dedicated to their beliefs, did not fear death. At least not how he and the others who did not believe in such things as an afterlife did.
"Mike," the boy soldier said, startling General Cyrus out of his thoughts.
"Daniel," the stocky, burly looking man said. He looked the oldest out of them all. Perhaps just shy of thirty years old.
He nodded, and committed their names to memory.
"General Cyrus," William said, "do you want us to stay with you, or do you need some of us out fighting?"
"Please, just call me Neill," he said.
William nodded. "OK, as you wish."
For the following moments of breath, they were all silent. The only sounds those of the ongoing battle being waged outside. With the inactivity in the room, he was able to take in the furniture around him. How this place must have been full of people coming and going. The greetings from the receptionist. The aroma of coffee in the morning. Today that was all a memory, but it will not be forgotten.
Daniel puled out a coin and twirled it in between his fingers. After a minute he simply put it in his right palm and clamped it shut over the coin. Daniel shut his eyes.
"Do you think we can win this?" Meredith said as she plopped down on a blue couch. She then buried her head in her hands and sniffled quietly.
Nobody replied. General Cyrus stared at her trembling form. She really did look frail. As if a single touch would make her crumble. Both physically and emotionally. For once, he could say nothing. He too could not know the outcome of the war. What will happen, will happen. And there is nothing we can do about but wait. Though, we can make it happen. For by standing around, we are only waiting for the inevitable that comes from doing nothing. Failure, and it will be our last failure as a species.
"Does anybody have a guess on how good our chances are? How ever slim?" Samantha said as she went to go sit down beside Meredith.
Daniel stared up at the ceiling as if seeing beyond plaster, beyond the upper floors, beyond the ceiling, beyond the sky, beyond the stars. And then he spoke and all eyes went to him. "Just as we can not predict what side a coin will land, we can not know the outcome of this war."
"T-tell me s-something I don't already kno-kno-w," Meredith said, choking on her words.
Daniel flipped the coin again and caught it with mesmerizing grace. "Through out time," he began, "there have been wars. All seemed to be stacked against the odds of those fighting for righteous, if that was what they were truly fighting for. Wars, wars are often fought simply because of greed. Evil against evil."
Mike shook his head and sighed.
"Don't be so mellow Mike, Daniel's right," William said. "We've been doing a god job of hiding that fact for centuries. But now, now that we are faced with an adversary that could exterminate us all we have no choice but to settle our differences or keep at them and die." He took in a deep breath. "And it was all thanks to this man," he said nodding down to Neil.
"It wasn't all because of me," Neil said. "If it weren't for you all," he continued, "and I don't just mean you as in this abandoned hotel waiting area. I'm talking about all of us, at every point of the globe. If we hadn't all cast aside our ways, we would have lasted past the first days."
A tremendous explosion rang out, and a tremor shook the walls. A painting was knocked off the wall, it's frame shattering on the floor.
Daniel flipped his coin again. "Remember how I said that we can't predict whether a coin will land on heads or tails?"
"Yeah," Meredith said as she peeked out from her hands. Samantha rubbed her back.
"Well, we don't have to flip it."
"What do you mean?" Samantha said.
"I mean we can just set it down on whatever face we want it to," William said smiling. He set the coin down on the back of his left palm and declared, "Heads."
"You silly trickster goose you," Meredith said giggling through sobs.
Everybody laughed, including Neil. He had almost forgotten how good it felt, laughing. Even in the midst of the Valley of Death, we can find cheer.
"A trickster aye?" William said. "Just don't let reality elude you. We can not wish to be as sly foxes and elude our fate," he said seriously.
The laughter died away as swiftly as a match burning out in a blizzard. Neil felt a chill start in his core and travel throughout his arteries, to every point of his body, and being. It was stunning how William could talk to them of their dire situation, incorporating his beliefs, yet not become a preacher. Neil was taken back to when he went by General Cyrus. When he had united the world's people under a flag-less nation.
"Who's ready to win a war?" Mike suddenly said.
Before anybody could respond, Neil sprang up on his feet, ignoring the discomfort he felt in his still tingling head. "I can't let my people die out there alone without their friend."
"Their former General you mean?" Samantha said.
Neil only smiled as he searched the room for his grenade launcher.
"Looking for this friend?" Daniel said as he picked up a large gleaming gun set against a wall.
Neil gathered the gun with both hands and nodded. "We stick together and weed out the blood-suckers," he said as he walked to a door in the distance. "But, something that Dr. Cullen said strikes me as odd."
"The vampire expert?" Mike asked. "What did he say?"
Neil hesitated, "He said not all of them preyed on humans."
"But, what does..." William began. "It sounds like he was implying that he... is one of them."
Neil nodded his head slowly and said, "But none of it matters, he's dead."
"In taht fire. Yeah, I remember that, just hours after the slaughter in Italy," Mike said.
"But why by fire?" Neil said. "No, it was no accident, it was murder. Murdered by his own kind."
"My gosh. They're no different than the way we were," William said.
"But, his words still continue to echo in my head at very waking moment. How easy is it fro them to live among us? If he could do it, how will we be sure if we wiped them all out? And even if we examined every person on the biology of every person and find the vampires, how will we know which are no danger to us?"
Everybody shook their heads, Meredith finally getting up from the couch. Her cheeks moist with tears.
Neil gave them two minutes to compose themselves and then said, "Take off your safety's and get ready." A chorus of clicks sounded throughout the room. He approached the door at the entrance of the waiting room and unlocked it. It was comical really, that the soldiers had though that a standard lock would keep out the monsters. As Neil pushed open the door a crack, the music of war pulled at his heartstrings.
I've never read a ninja story so I had no idea that was what was conveyed here. And I named this a parody so mods wouldn't have to say "Moved to fanfiction" or anything. 
Oh and I just changed "reteach" to "reattach" which is what I had meant to type. This bloody keyboard doesn't work half the time. 
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