“Our next foe is Chuluun Bold… he looked weirdly pale this time, and I’m pretty sure I saw fangs on him”, said THNG. “I guess I shouldn’t have bitten him.”
The dark-haired, round-faced vampire in a basketball jersey and shorts lay stomach-first on a large exercise ball. She rocked back and forth in contemplation.
Hank Sokolov sat on a bench and lifted a fifty-pound dumbbell beside her. The doughy Russian giant commented, “I have never seen you bite someone before... but now we know it is a bad idea.”
“He pushed me hard. I lost myself for a second,” replied THNG. She paused. “Hank, are you sure you should be lifting something heavy? You just got out of the hospital!”
“Doctor says I am fine, so I am fine,” insisted Hank.
“Hank, you’re going up against a genuine vampire in two months. A big one. Way bigger than me. Who already knows how to fight well. You need to recover to your fullest.”
Hank sighed. “My home country has gone insane. My comrades Ivanova and Drago are in hiding as well as I. I was beaten and humiliated by nobody American trash. I am likely to lose the next bout too. A slim chance of winning is the only thing I can focus on. I will go mad if I spend another day in a sickbed.”
THNG looked up from her perch on the medicine ball and found she had nothing to say. Only the clang of steel and the groan of muscle punctuated the silence.
Hank put down the weight and buried his face in his hands.
THNG looked up from the exercise ball. “Damn. Well, we can still go back to the Altan Ord, right?”
Hank shook his head in his hands. “No, I cannot return in disgrace. The Grand Duck’s patience I have already tested. I dare not bring him any news but victory. Though, you are free to rejoin the Ord anytime, comrade vampire. Comrade Mascat has already gone, nothing is stopping you too.”
“I… I wouldn’t dream of it, Hank. We’re all we’ve got now.”
“Da. All we got.”
Hank’s hands slipped off his face and went back down to the dumbbell. He grunted and strained to lift it to his chin level. His face contorted into a frown. He looked down at the weight, dropped it with a grunt of disgust, and massaged his sore bicep.
The pale fluorescent lights in the ratty gym did little to flatter their surroundings. The Midwestern night swallowed all light in every window outside. Hank leaned back in exhaustion on his dusty gym bench. THNG felt antsy looking out the window. “This place feels wrong. I mean, I know I’m a vampire, but it feels like something is moving out there in a sea of ink.”
Hank flexed, apparently not satisfied with his arm. “It is the proverbial middle of ass intercourse nowhere, as our comrades said. They know what they were doing to select this place for me. There is little chance of our no doubt _countless _enemies finding us here.”
“I know… but seriously, there’s nobody_ at all_ on the streets at night. You’d think that-”
“Relax. I have an idea. I need to prepare for match. We cannot use list of Craig while we are in hiding, da?”
“… da?” THNG replied.
Hank stood up. “Normally I would ask for a vampire to spar… but we have a vampire right here!”
THNG rocked herself off the exercise ball and hesitantly held it between herself and Hank. “Hank, you know I’m not a fistfighter.”
Hank circled her. “I know, but it is good for me to get moving! Is physical therapy, right?”
“Hank, that requires a physical therapist. Also, I’m not anything like Bold, besides the fangs. It wouldn’t help you. Also also, I don’t wanna.”
“I think you are underestimating yourself!” Hank stepped forward.
THNG threw the exercise ball at him. The Russian giant batted it away and lunged.
She was already out of the way before his feet left the ground. She leaped across the entire gym floor and alighted on a mildewed exercise mat. Hank slid against the ground where he missed her and leaped back up to his feet with a speed that belied his five-hundred-pound frame.
THNG rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Hank, seriously, you’re going to hurt your-”
Hank charged at her. She leaped forward over him, easily clearing his height and landing a few dozen feet behind him.
Hank looked up in startlement, then turned around to face her.
“Hm, what way to deal with vampire speed?” he mused out loud. “Ah!”
He grabbed the tattered exercise mat and whipped it in THNG’s direction. A cloud of dirt, bugs, and mold flew out of the mat.
The vampire coughed and closed her eyes, only to feel Hank tackling her to the ground.
“Submit! I win!” yelled Hank as he put her in a kneeling headlock.
The thin girl struggled to lift him off her.
“That’s ENOUGH Hank!” she yelled.
Hank started to release her when suddenly he felt a horrid pain in his chest. He flinched backward.
Then it stopped. Hank’s confused expression matched THNG’s own for a second. Then he buckled to his knees as he felt horrible, familiar cramping in his ribs.
“Ah! Damn it, Hank! I told you this was too much for your injuries!” THNG rushed to his aid. He didn’t even notice her in his throes.
Hank grit his teeth and his mind struggled to claw its way out of the pain. But the walls were too deep. He sank and sank and sank…
A misted plain. The thin, green grass stretched as far as the eye could see, with low hills punching through the white horizon. Clouds roiled overhead like a thick, rich brew. He knew this land. He’d been here.
Hank Sokolov found himself in the steppes. A tall shadow loomed before him.
The shadow resolved into a fierce man clad in lamellar armor of red and black, atop a well-muscled, compact warhorse.
The man said, “Get up, Sokolov. We have business.”
Hank then realized he still was on his knees. He stood up and regarded the strange armored man. The armor was oddly familiar, that much he knew.
“Who are you?” Hank asked.
“I am The Khan.”
His appearance then struck Hank’s memory. The armored man was the very image of a Mongolian warlord, but...
Hank replied, “The Khan? That may be, but I only acknowledge one Khan.”
The Khan stroked his neat, long beard. “That is true, but of no matter, for I embody the spirit of all Khans under Tengri. Stretching from before written history, to the one whom you serve, to those beyond it.”
Hank, in shameful doubt, looked straight into the eyes of The Spirit of all Khans, and then he saw it. Everything. The steeled souls of the old Mongolians. The burning hate of his master’s eyes. The promise of fire and conquest and plunder to come. Discipline. Tradition. Victory. The wind in hair in flight. The beating of hearts at hunt. The thunder of feet and hooves trampling earth, flesh, and steel.
Hank dared not move from where he stood. “Yes, lord of all Khans. I… I … but why me- here? Why?”
“Believe this or do not believe this, Hank Sokolov, it makes no difference: You are destined, essential to the fate of the Horde.”
“Destined? Me? I am no leader. I am broken. I do not even ride a horse.”
The Spirit sat on his steed, both still as night. “No, it is not you who will lead, but the one who follows after. You carry ancient wisdom, Hank Sokolov. You have taken it into your very soul. You will carry the message of the Horde to the one who needs it and who the Horde needs.”
“But, what about my master?”
“A flame too bright is mighty but burns away its path forward. He will endure, but cannot lead the Horde to its full potential. Yours is not an age of simple slaughter, Sokolov. It is an age of subtlety. Of words. Of coalition. There will be battles, but they cannot be fought with force alone. You will bear the lessons learned from your Khan, and the ones learned here, and beyond, and you will create the next Great Khan. This is not a command. It is fact, Hank Sokolov.”
“I… very well. I suppose it is not my place to merely accept, but immediately think of the path forward.”
“You learn well, Hank Sokolov.”
Hank held back tears. “Spirit of Khans, my foes are great. My native land has abandoned me, and I have abandoned it. I am wounded and unready. The pretender Khan, Chuluun Bold, has powers beyond my ability. I cannot even begin to fathom fighting him.”
“Would you embrace the same gifts Bold received?”
“I will not, my lord. I would rather die whole, as myself.”
“Would you embrace the gifts of the Machines?”
“I’d sooner die whole as myself, and slowly at that.”
“Would you embrace the gifts of Tengri?”
“Yes, provided that my muscles are my own and my skill is my own. Only by his own merits will a true champion show the Horde’s way is best.”
The Spirit’s stoic frown broke into a wide smile and he ran fingers along his beard. “Then Tengri smiles upon your journey, Hank. Your body remains your own and the same as it was, but the forces of unnature shall not make any claim on it. Now, rise anew, and kill them all.”
Hank gasped for breath and woke up barely able to move. Everything around him was blue and white.
The steady beep of a heart monitor kept time. Voices chattered over it.
“Damn, you weren’t joking.”
“Yeah, we dried damn near all the ones this big.”
“Well, leave some. He’d be a good thrall.”
“Nah. Then he’d be competition. Let’s take it all. Too many of us in this place already.”
“Yeah. Bottoms up then.”
Hank fought to turn his head and found the sources of the voices were two pale, thin men in dark clothing. One of them grinned to show fangs and leaped at Hank.
Hank lifted an arm as hard as he could, tearing off several plastic tubes in the process. He clasped a meaty hand over the vampire’s mouth in mid-air, clenching it open, unable to bite.
“Who are you?” Hank mumbled. “That thinks he is anything next to me!”
Hank squeezed, causing the vampire to writhe in agony as his jawbones crumpled under Hank’s brute strength.
The pale man lifted his hands to oppose Hank’s grasp. He was very strong and could well have freed himself, had not Hank’s other fist dove straight into the vampire’s skull, smashing it open like an overdue watermelon.
“Has been too long since I last did that. Feels good to be back,” said Hank. He sloughed the headless body off with a gentle shake of his fist. The corpse landed hard, turning over a medical cart with a loud metallic clang. The body turned to ashes and medical supplies clattered about the floor. The Russian giant rose out of the hospital bed, snapping off even more bandages and tubes on his way up.
The other vampire backed up against the wall as Hank advanced.
“Stay back man!”
Hank lowered his fists. “I will spare you if you answer a question, little mosquito.”
The other vampire, sadly mistaking the gesture for vulnerability, rushed forward. Hank seized him by the throat and pinned him against the wall, shattering the plaster.
The vampire squealed and fought against the assault, but Hank dislocated the bloodsucker’s shoulder with a hard shove. The vampire slumped to the ground.
Hank explained, “Now I am all out of niceties, little mosquito. I need practice. Tell me where to find your kin. Then I will make this fast. Or else I will make this slow. And I can be very patient, I assure you.”
The vampire looked up and felt true fear for the very last time.
Two red eyes looked at Hank through a slit in the door.
“Password?”
“The spiritual embodiment of my beliefs told me to exterminate you. Perhaps this is not the first time this has happened to you vampires. But it will be the last.”
“Wha- hey, we got trouble-”
Hank tore the heavy steel door off its hinges. The club’s doorman stumbled forward. Hank put a hand to the man’s forehead to check for fangs in his mouth. The doorman bit at Hank’s hand, revealing the fangs. Hank retracted his hand just in time, placed it back on the steel door, and swung it with full force.
The vampire was paste before he even hit the opposing wall inside.
Hank stepped in with the severed door at his side. All eyes turned to look at the seven-and-a-half foot tall bearded colossus in a blood-speckled hospital gown. He strolled up the massive smear that used to be the door guard as if it were a macabre red carpet.
The music died, leaving only silence and murmurs. The only lights came from the blasted-open doorway and sharp, unearthly purple beam lights scattered about. Hundreds of clubgoers filled the dimly lit club. Some stared at Hank in confusion, others alarmed, yet others hungry. The smell of blood permeated the very walls.
Hank declared, “I am here to chew bubble gum and kill vampires, and I am all out of vampires to not kill. Wait, that is not how it goes. Damn, let me start-”
Many mouths hissed and white fangs gleamed in the faint purple light. Several figures rushed through the dark at Hank.
Hank shrugged and swung the door in a wide arc by its edge, producing a spray of blood. The first wave of attackers fell to the floor.
The rest of the mob rushed at him as one. He slammed the increasingly battered door down on his attackers. It gave way to shreds of steel within the first few strikes.
Hank dropped the ruined weapon and grabbed one vampire with both hands. With a mighty grunt, he pulled as hard as he could and felt its body come loose into asymmetric halves. He threw both halves into the crowd, knocking several attackers over.
His eyes had difficulty adjusting to the dark with the beam lights constantly blinding his vision. He didn’t care. All he knew is he would do no wrong if he killed everything in his reach!
He felt something sharp hit him on the leg, but it didn’t break through. Hank landed a meaty fist on the offender and was rewarded with the familiar texture of disintegrating bone and brain.
Another latched onto his arm, fighting to break his skin. He lifted it off him and slammed it overhead, crushing another set of vampires into bony pulp.
More vampires latched onto his back, some on his neck. He felt a knife land somewhere back there, but it wasn’t nearly deep enough to concern him. He roared and yanked hard, feeling someone’s limb come loose in his hand. He toppled his body backward in a somersault, annihilating vampire flesh, bones, and organs underneath his 500-pound mass.
In this confined space, their speed made no difference. Hank crushed them against walls, shattered their bones against the low ceiling, ran them through with bar stools, and used their fellows’ bodies as bludgeons before they inevitably vaporized into ash. Bones became his knives, skulls became thrown bludgeons and his hands remained ever coated with ashes and blood. Claws ran along his skin, their bites failed to penetrate his thick muscle, and their bodies melted under the full force of his wrath. He didn’t know if the red he saw was blood or rage, but all the same, the pounding of his heart matched the rapid thuds of his fists.
Amid the din of vampire shrieks and fighting, he heard a gunshot. By finely tuned instinct, he homed in on it, using bloodsuckers in his way as cover as the gunshots continued. He impaled another vampire with its torn-off arm and used the body to knock over the shooter, then leaped onto both fallen foes and crushed them into fluid with a vicious stomp.
Many clubbers left for the exits, hardly noticed in the dim crimson background of Hank’s fury. The Russian colossus reduced his attackers with vicious body slams and punches. More gunshots snapped off at him, and he was already moving before the second shots. He dove behind a table, then hurled it and rose to his feet in a single move, sending it barreling into the vampires. The lucky ones died instantly from the table’s impact.
Hank seized a rifle from the last remaining shooter and struck them with the butt, turning their head concave. He fired wildly at the remaining vampires, then jammed the gun’s barrel to impale one through the heart, instantly dusting it. Hank snapped someone’s neck, ripped off someone’s leg, and brought his arms down to a bloody conclusion. He roared as his hands partook in death.
Hank fell to his knees and hands. His limbs and eyelids felt very heavy, and it was hard to stand on the floor’s slick mixture of blood and ashes. A vampire, not quite ashes yet, twitched near him. A wooden stake suddenly entered its chest from above and the creature of the night burst into smoke.
THNG stood over Hank, wearing a bandolier of sharpened stakes.
“Uh, wow. This is why the Grand Duck liked you. Right out of the hospital, too,” she murmured. She put a stake in her hand away to help Hank to his feet.
“Da. The Spirit of all Khans bid me kill them.”
“Ooookay. Uh, the police are on their way and I’m pretty sure they are vampires too. We need to get the heck out.”
Hank had just enough presence of mind to not lean on the girl a fourth of his weight. For her part, she only supported one of his arms.
“You are a good person, THNG,” he muttered. “How… how did you become one of them?”
THNG started to guide Hank towards the exit. The eerie purple lights swept over and past them. “Now’s not a good time Hank. Maybe later. Geez, I leave your bedside for the first time in two days and you somehow fully recover and then do this. I hope you didn’t get infected.”
“I know I didn’t… Tengri watches over us. He sees that our journey is just. Horrors have no hold over me.”
“Yes well, I hope that holds up. Bold isn’t going to be nearly as easy as random dumbasses.”
Hank smiled as they left the club’s walls. Sirens blared in the distance. “I hope so.”