The lost composer of London

The Beginning of War

"Any word on a mission?" Amy leaned back in a lawn chair she'd found shortly after waking up. Some big blimps were lazily inching past them overhead; she regarded them with the smallest amount of curiosity she could muster. It wasn't a Noise or a Reaper, so Amy assumed she couldn't fight it.

"Nothin' yet. Them keeping us waiting like this is wack man." Brad stared deep into his palm as though he thought he could summon a mission and timer. Amy glanced at him and wiggled her toes mindlessly. A few other Players had chosen to make camp in a late-night café where they could be seen and served. A few loners were playing with cups of coffee and tinkering with equipment. A few Pin users shuffled through their collections for whatever the night had in store.

"Word, B. And what's the deal with waking us all up twice in a day? I don't think that's on the level."

Some Player girl turned to them. She barely looked a day over eight. "Are you two idiots?"

Brad wasn't fond of the arrogance in her tone. "Yo, you got a problem sister?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "The Reapers woke us up because of those, dummies." She pointed to the zeppelins that had passed them minutes ago.

Amy spun a wheel on her skates. "What, the ad balloons? Unless you Limeys have some sick ramps, I ain't getting up there."

"They aren't advertisements," an older boy said. "Those have swastikas on them, it's a new Arian resurrection."

"Sorry dude, I don't get your Brit moon speak. They have a what and a new huh?"

"Holy shit..." Brad dropped his hand and moved to get a better look at the zeppelins. "He's right. Aimes, those are fucking Nazis!"

A small outcry came from the group of Players, and one by one they began to rise and head out. Amy and Brad looked to their palms, and found a new mission statement. No timer, no nuance.

"Kill all the vampires. Whoever fights and survives the night will be declared a winner."

Amy smiled childishly and jumped to her feet. "B-man, we've just unlocked our endgame!"

Brad shouldered his boom box and returned her grin. "Let's go make some garlic bling."

I can smell a calm agony. The corpses seek nourishment. It is nothing, let the bodies feast. My dish is waiting for me, down below. The smell tantalizes me. So close, so very close.

Tonight I finish my mission.

Tonight I devour the Composer of London.

"Oh God..." Megan gaped dumbly at the corpulent mechanical monstrosities silently crawling their way through the London skies. The crossed eye of annihilation and odium perceived all the frail blood bags of England and found the kingdom plump and lazed, perfectly prepared for its homicidal resurrection. Megan was stricken, frozen into her boots. Somehow these profane zeppelins had incited a feeling of dread that surpassed those that ended her life over eighty years before.

"So..." Rocky breathed, similarly struck with awe at the malignant sight. "Those are filled with vampires."

"Nazi vampires," Richard corrected. "Heavily armed, most likely."

Reece stood in the shadow of the leading warship, staring up at the thing's abhorrence waver out into the very air it sailed upon. His nose wrinkled tightly as he caught the stench of refused Death. "What are your orders, Composer King?"

Annabelle put great weight on her thoughts in that moment. Any wrong decision could lead to a massacre. "We can't approach the warships directly, they likely have heavy anti-air cannons that could tear us apart before we got close. For now all we can do is get the civilians as far away from them as possible. Carry them all if you have to."