September 2nd, 1906
Forty-seventh vampiric outpost
New York City
How could this happen? Those were the words that ran through my head, as I stepped away from a hole in the wall of the cavern, through which I watched the werewolves murder hundreds of my fellow vampires. For thousands of years, we had lived relatively peacefully with each other. That all changed earlier today, when the werewolves declared war on us. They had been worried that the vampires would completely eradicate the human race – our food. About three hours ago, taking us by surprise, they sent in a large group of Elites to take out one of our outposts under New York City. I, Alphonse Fuchs, am the only survivor.
As of now, I stand in a large cavern that leads to the exit of our underground 'lair'. Behind me, is the path that leads deeper into our hideout. To my right, is the small hole in the wall that had allowed me to see into the cavern that the massacre occured in. My dead comrades had fought for their lives only a few feet away.
I began walking forward again, but froze, as I heard a snarl from behind me. I turned to see a large black Wolf running towards me; claws outstretched. I dove to the side, and landed crouching; snarling through gritted teeth. As it passed me, I pulled a small, silver, venom-tipped knife from my pouch. Careful not to touch the silver blade, I threw it, and it stuck directly into its neck, injecting the lethal venom into its bloodstream. It froze and began howling and ripping at its neck; the mixture of silver and my venom was especially painful. Its howls quickly turned into a gurgling sound, and then it collapsed; blood dripped from its maw and neck, pooling around its corpse. I let out a sigh of relief, and stood. I walked over to the filthy dog, and retrieved my weapon. I began cleaning the blood off with my shirt, but paused; something was wrong. Its blood – normally red – had a strange purplish hue to it. I started to bend down to get a closer look, but froze halfway, as a series of loud roars erupted behind me.
I turned, only to find that I was completely outnumbered; eight wolves stood before me, glaring at me; anger present in their dark eyes. If I had a heart, it would have been pounding; this situation was not good. I regretted leaving behind my home, and my friends deserved a proper burial, but escaping was my only option. I let out a snarl of my own, bared my deadly, venom-lined fangs in warning, turned, and ran.