The eyes didn’t deceive.
None of them wanted to actually come to terms with what lay before them. And one could hardly blame them, considering the grizzly context. Some of the Fuhrer’s most elite men had been not only killed, but absolutely annihilated? Dispatched in such a morbid fashion as to make the seasoned, battle hardened platoon feel their stomachs twist into tight knots? No. No, it…it had to be a kind of twisted joke, right? A case of group hysteria…surely. A collective, shared nightmare.
What a way to kill the morale of cocky, young, patriotic Wehrmacht soldiers who were ready to not only kill for, but die for, the glory of Deutschland, and their dear ruler.
Rumors had spread throughout the eastern front amongst the low and middle ranks of the German forces of Soviet and German troops being decimated gorily in nighttime battles. Numerous cadavers belonging to both the Fatherland and the Motherland stacked ominously, messily gutted. Looking as if wild animals had decided to dig in. But, that was ruled out as an impossibility, given the large number of casualties. As well as the fact that the remains were arranged in ways that no non-human being was capable of, considering some of the dead were found hanging in trees, or draped very deliberately over each other. The lone survivor of a German/Russian skirmish rambled haggardly to officers who had found him that he saw a Soviet platoon…devoured, before…whatever it was, turned on the two platoons he had been with were also wiped out in an almost, as he put it, “hungry and predatory” fashion. Playing dead was the only way he survived, so he said. Not wanting to let it even be considered that their army was anything other than a divine force of nature capable of steamrolling the entirety of continental Europe, the young man was condemned and committed, as well as any of these rumors suppressed with threats of abuse and punishment.
But now it seemed as though the “mere superstitions of shell-shocked youngsters” had become reality. No long condemned to hushed whispers and ghostly campfire tales made up to scare or haze. Evidence of these tall tales stared them directly in the face, with all of the morbid glory of a bizarre horror novel.
The scene to meet their eyes was one that filled everyone present with disbelief and horror. An entire company of Waffen SS soldiers had been…slaughtered. Butchered. Ripped apart. Bodies lay plastered all over the roads of the Polish ghost town, which had been, according to official records, occupied and subdued several days prior. Meat chunks both grandiose and insignificant in size were splayed crudely all over everywhere. So much blood stained the asphalt, dirt, and buildings, that it looked as though the town had gotten a brand new paintjob of the most sloppy and half-assed variety. Bones could be found scattered haphazardly, and not in any patterned, uniform manner; some part of whole bone structures, some piled up, and some singular ones good distances from each other, like the wind had blown them to and fro.
In a vain attempt to cover up their panic, the platoon of Wehrmacht infantrymen shouted in both German and bits of broken Polish at the residents of the town. Yelling and screaming, suppressing the trembles and quakes in their voices. Directing their anger at both those who were out and about, desperately trying to ignore the existence of the putrid stench of decay present, and also the riled-up soldiers who may very well mow them down, and those who were indoors. Everyone now frightened terribly, sobbing and freezing as Kar 98s and MP40s were aimed at their faces. Being of the peasantry, none of them were trained for serious combat. And considering the German army had bulldozed their country in a matter of weeks, taking it over with ease, they weren’t very keen on trying to make a heroic stand. Frustrated beyond belief, the soldiers began dragging those inside buildings out of their homes, threatening them at gunpoint to gather in the center of the village, or face execution. Those outside were all very quickly rounded up. Guns being cocked let everyone know these were not empty threats, and these men wouldn’t be punished, in all likelihood, for laying waste to their humble village; after all, Germany had made it clear the Poles were of lesser stock, and that the ones still remaining were being barely tolerated at best. Women and children were harshly grabbed, being taunted and assaulted, whilst men were beaten with the stocks of rifles and stomped, kicked, punched, etc. with sadistic viciousness.
Once all were corralled tightly together for a mass interrogation, the leader of the platoon began barking questions at everyone. Demanding to know what exactly transpired here. Who was responsible, where did they go, what were they? Stern, fiery eyes inspecting the crowd. Looking for any potential suspects. Hoping to catch someone who looked the slightest bit off, to pull them aside and grill them on the details of this transgression. Making sure the rest of his men had their arms trained on the townspeople, in case anyone decided to be bold and either escape, or fight back.
Yet, for whatever reason, the residents kept their lips tightly sealed. Not daring to say anything at all. Others murmured of not being in a position to say. Scratch that, not allowed to say.
At first, the leader put up an affable front. Saying that if they were to co-operate, they would root at the menace that was not only going to terrorize his unit, but also seemed to be terrorizing their poor village, as well as leave them be and even offer them some form of compensation for their time. After all, did they not have a common enemy? A shared foe? Really, it was advantageous for them to start speaking; otherwise, their silence would be taken as co-conspiracy, and make them legible to be slaughtered with the utmost callousness. Even reassuring them that if they didn’t know anything definite or concrete, it was fine. Just any details at all would be of great assistance.
Still, no one gave him anything to work with. No sort of lead, not a name. Not even a lousy description. Huffing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Practically begging to know why they weren’t allowed to speak about whoever did this. Let alone not say who they were.
Impatient and done bargaining, the leader growled and ordered some of his men to start pulling women and children aside for execution. Cries and shrieks and hopeless pleas leaving their lips, the sadistic glee present within the eyes of the German soldiers. Cruel taunts, jeers, slurs, and laughs echoing in the minds of the townsfolk. The men tried to fight back, hoping to wrench away the potential victims from the Reich’s marauding soldiers, delivering some nasty blows. But it was all for naught, for fire was soon opened upon them. Killing several bystanders and resisters alike. Bullets tearing through flesh. Others were beaten down and pummeled into the pavement, struck with the stocks of guns, the heels of boots, and the knuckles of fists. Skulls were cracked, bones were broken, ribs were shattered.
Not a soul had seemed to take notice that nightfall had come. A detail that, whilst seemingly innocuous, would prove to be incredibly deadly.
Within a second, the atmosphere became one of dread and horror. For everyone involved. The townspeople, the soldiers…both sides became gripped with fear. Shivering as the blood in their veins ran cold. Goosebumps forming along their arms. The fighting having ceased. All of their eyes could feel the otherworldly, undead presence standing behind them. But all were too afraid to look.
Both of them were tall, exceptionally so. An inch or two above six feet. Possessing ghostly, blemish-free, eerily pale skin. Their builds lean and toned; not at all bulky. Strong, capable, yet on the lankier side nonetheless. Faces carrying an elegant, androgynous, effeminate quality to them. Dignified, befitting of aristocrats, despite their status as wandering vagabonds. The one on the right had long, flowing, vibrant red hair that trailed down his shoulders and back, some of the locks obscuring half of his face, since it was parted to the side. The one on the left had somewhat disheveled, shorter hair that stopped around the bottom of his neck, with stylish curtain bangs. Both pairs of eyes a menacing, demonic crimson. Glowing like hellish embers in their skulls. Full pairs of lips concealing mouths full of serrated, incredibly sharp teeth. The redhead had his arms folded over his chest, carrying a stoic, neutral expression; looking almost…unamused, idly licking his lips in preparation for the coming feast. Meanwhile, his blonde companion had a cocky, arrogant smirk on his face, making sure his gaze seared into the Wehrmacht soldiers especially. Yes, these were the two responsible for ripping apart both Soviet and German forces throughout the bleak, dreary expanses of the Eastern Bloc. A German, and a Brit.
Shouting urgently, the platoon leader ordered his men to open fire on the pair, shouting a variety of insults at them.
Unfortunately, by the time the bullets were in the air, the pair were already far out of the way, making their way rapidly towards the platoon’s members. In sync with each other as they dodged, weaved, and prepared to blitz the Nazis with a certain veneer of…pizazz. As though they were going to make a big show of this. Then again, they always did. Plus, they didn’t want holes in their pristine suits. Moving so quickly, the soldiers couldn’t even perceive them, unable to aim where they were going to be, let alone aim at them. Dashing about unpredictably. Utterly defeated, fearful expressions overtaking their features. Eyes bulging out of their heads, jaws slack with pure surprise, bodies tense , hearts thumping and teeth clenched, gripping their firearms. Murmuring small prayers, begging for mercy.
The blonde made the first offensive move, mouth wide open. Revealing all of those monstrous fangs, sinking them right into the neck of a German solder. A muffled moan of pure ecstasy able to be heard emanating from the vampire’s through he drank in large quantities of the man’s blood quickly. Savoring the taste as it gushed into his mouth. Red liquid dribbling a bit down his chin and neck, onto his suit. Turning his head when shots were fired in his direction. Effortlessly maneuvering to them in a flash. All without a scratch. Delivering a series of sharp elbows and kicks that rendered half of them dead less than a minute, before latching his mouth onto a decent number of necks, hungrily gorging himself on more blood, possessing an insatiable appetite. Practically gulping down what was available to him down. A truly messy eater. Time to binge. Letting out a satisfied hum, before letting his eyes fall upon his…unconventionally graceful partner.
Said partner had sank his teeth into the necks of several soldiers, having decided to solely attack with his mouth, and swipe copious amounts of the coppery fluid from their throats. If the blonde was a messy eater, then the redhead was a whole magnitude more sloppy. Ripping apart the tender, sensitive areas of the jugular and esophagus with ease, all whilst blood spilled onto his suit, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck his chin, and even his hair. Not bothering with fighting like a human; he was a predator, an animalistic creature of the night, and he was going to slaughter these German soldiers appropriately. Clawing, tearing, dismembering. Pouncing upon each victim before pummeling them to death. It was all still executed with precision and panache; much akin to his partner’s brutality. Like a murderous ballet, entirely unharmed by the pitiful attempts at fighting back he was met with.
Looking upon the Polish residents once the carnage had finally stopped, and they had enjoyed their fill of death, they expressed their sincere gratitude for not being sold out (although colorful threats and offers of protection were hard for these folks to ignore). Not that it would’ve mattered if the town had done so; no mortal could kill them, nor could any of their weapons. Many had tried, and all of them had failed miserably. But it would’ve made things a bit of a pain, in terms of trying to find another place to temporarily live and relax in, before growing bored and uprooting to somewhere else. It seemed most of everyone was alive, thankfully. Apologizing for not arriving sooner; the sun had taken a little longer than usual to set. Of course, the Poles were mortified at the display of wanton bloodlust and predation…upon humans, no less. By beings that superficially resembled humans (even if they were, in fact, demons of a most terrible variety). Frozen, not daring to make a move. Even if the vampires had no quarrel with them, since the vast number of Germans and Russians around provided them with frequent and excellent meals. Not to mention, given the intimate nature of the pair’s relationship, their war against the USSR and the NSDAP was a personal one. Scared that if they uttered a word, a noise, they’d be reduced to ribbons and shreds as well. Trembling as they gazed at the mangled corpses of the Nazi platoon that had been laid to waste. It all felt like a surreal nightmare to them. Watching as the pair smiled at them and walked off into the empty house they both resided in for the time being. Leaving the mess to be dealt with by everyone living here.
Once inside, in their shared bedroom, the redhead pulled his blonde lover close to him, the redhead’s lips pressing into his fellow vampire’s. Igniting a passionate, eager French kiss. The beautiful blonde moaned lustfully, opening his mouth for the gorgeous redhead’s tongue to poke and prod around in his mouth. Swirling around his own, intertwining. Tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Fingers hastily pulling off coats, unbuttoning shirts and loosening ties, lowering pants. Palms pressing against each other’s chests and abs, caressing flared hips and tiny waists and powerful thighs. Throbbing arousals contained only by thin cloth. Whispered declarations of passion and love filling the air as they fell to the bed. The blonde moving on top of the redhead, settling himself between his lover’s legs. Both of them grinding their stiff, sizeable desires against each other. Whispering declarations of love and passion to each other, not caring that their bodies were still stained with blood. Gasps and groans echoing off of the walls.
“The vampire is not a life lover, but a life eater…”
A World In Flames 