The New World Order

I listened to the bullets whistle over me as I pressed my back to the broken ground on the wall of the trench.
“Smith!” I heard the Staff Sergeant yell beside me.
“It’s Ravensmith, sir!” I shouted back, trying to get over the sound of gunshots around me.
“Whatever you say, Smith. Get over to that fancy telecomm guy down the trench. Tell him to request a retreat, now!” The Sergeant yelled at me again, his strong voice getting over and through the gunfire with ease.
“Yes sir.” I said quietly, giving up on tying to yell over the guns, it was a lost cause in my opinion, just like this damned war.
I looked around the trench wearily, stood up, and began running to the dug out where I knew the ‘fancy telecomm guy’ was. I hadn’t made it far when I heard another bullet whistle past, this time accompanied by a sickening ripping sound half way through it’s travel.
The next I knew I was on the ground, with the medic suddenly lingering over me.

“You’re going to be ok, Smith.” The medic said softly, somehow calming me slightly in the chaos.
“It’s…. Raven…. Smith…” I corrected as I had to with every new acquaintance out in the cursed Crimean Trenches of 1855.
“I know.” The medic half laughed. “I was just checking to see if you could talk. You’re neck is hurt pretty badly.” The medic said, his soothing voice somehow piercing the through the noise of the war behind us unexpectedly.

There was a long time where the medic just checked my neck, saying nothing, every once in a while checking on the fierce battle behind him.
“Fall back!” I heard the Staff Sergeant I had been given my final order by suddenly yell. Obviously having gotten some other poor soul to request the retreat.
The medic turned to look behind him, and quickly span back to me.
“I’m sorry, Ravensmith. I don’t have time to save your life.” He said suddenly. The next words, if I had realised what he meant, would have changed me forever.
“You might still be able to survive though.” He said to me, appearing beside me and pressing his teeth into the hole in my neck.
I blacked out, watching as he slowly turned and stood upright. Waiting… His back to me...

When I woke, I was already standing. Shortly behind the medic, who I later learned to be called Eiko. He slowly stepped forward pulling out a large crested blade from underneath his custom uniform. There were many swords in that war, they were still standard issue, at the time, so it wasn’t strange to see a sword really. But this weapon, this scabbard, was different. It showed strength, radiated it almost.
I then realised that there were others doing the same, all in a similar uniform to Eiko. One of the other uniformed swordsmen quickly ran up to the medic.
“Eiko! You cannot draw your blade in front of him. Smith isn’t one of us!”
“It’s…” I began to say Ravensmith.
“Ravensmith.” Eiko finished. “And he is now, I… Saved him.” He said hesitantly, seeming unsure if saved was the right word. While drawing a second blade and throwing it to me without even turning to look at me.
”You’re going to need this.” Eiko said calmly as I grabbed the blade, which seemed to balance perfectly in my cold hands.

As if they were waiting for Eiko to tell them to come over on his words, several Russian soldiers came leaping over the side of the trench, taking cover in the hollows made by my friends of battle. The covering troops slowly turned and saw the 8 uniformed men and I, standing strong with swords in hand.
I froze, at the time thinking that it was my end. But this was not to be so; not realising that the end of my life had already come and gone, and that my extended death as a hunter was just starting. A single Russian round was fired at one of the warriors beside me, which entered his chest with worrying ease. But… He stood…. And in perfect synchronization all of the swordsmen pounced forward swords first. Each of them aiming straight for the neck of the doomed soldiers, providing somewhere, I would soon learn, to later drink from when this battle was done with.
Throughout this vicious bloodshed I just stood, my mouth seeming to water from the sight of this blood spilling around the already saturated ground.
“Initiate Ravensmith.” Eiko said as he turned and looked at me, having just dispatched the last of the troops. “Drink, you must be thirsty, you have only just been converted. Your thirst shall be unbearable for some time yet.” He said, talking like this was a daily occurrence.
“Initiate? What are you guys, some kind of cult?” I said, genuinely unsure of what these… These things were.
“No, we are a unit. A band of immortal warriors, our name changing depending on the country, but no matter where we go. There are always legends.”
“A cult then?” I repeated, putting emphasis on the word cult.
“No, the legends you would most likely recognise are those of vampires. And of the Templar Knights.” Eiko said, seeming smug to be part of this ‘unit’ of his.
“Vampires?” I said, stuttering as I said the word.
“Just drink, you shall see.” Eiko said while turning back to the young Russian body laid out on the floor, blood slowly leaking from his neck.

I hesitantly turned and looked down at the corpse on the floor, and kneeled down next to it. I ran my finger up the bead of blood along his neck and pressed it gently to my lips. The taste and relief of my thirst being clenched flowing through me. I pushed forward, my teeth piercing the ready-made slice in his neck, his blood pouring easily into my mouth now.
I opened my eyes and stood up. Looking around at the ‘Templar Vampires’ spread around me. Now believing that what Eiko had said was true, a vampire conversion being the only way or reason that I could drain a young Russian soldier of his blood.