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This is a work of fiction. No resemblance to anyone or organisation, is intended. This work of fiction is copywrited, 1997, by Patrick J. Sullivan.
Prologue
The night offers such myriad wonders. Things that simply can't be observed in the daylight. Subtle textures, plays of light and shadow that the sheer power of the sun washes away. Do I miss the sun? Sometimes, yes, sometimes I do miss it. I remeber being a child, running mindlessly and madly through an amusement park. Charging from ride to ride, then standing in line under the warm and benevolent sun. At least that's what we thought, back then. That the sun was benevolent, kindly and nurturing. It helped all things grow. Then we found out about UV and what it could do. How it burned and damaged and brought cancerous cells to fruition. We all hid from it then. We became things of fables, creatures of the night. An entire vampyric culture arose from the panic. We courted the night and pretended to darkness. Never knowing what was realy out there.
Eventualy, we found out about that too. We had called out to the night, and it had answered. The real Creatures of the Night came, then. Not just a few, here and there, hunting as they had for centuries. But armies of them, in organised millitary manuvers. It seems that they had been here first. And they had grown weary of the way we had abused their world. So war was declaired, and as is often the case, the poor and unfortunate were pressed into service. I was among them.
Chapter 1
"What a sorry, pathetic, group of oxagen wasters you are", shouted the Drill Instructor, "How does Uncle Sam expect me to train soldiers when he dosen't even give me human god-damned beings!?!?"
I shuffeled my feet and tried not to look him in the eyes. If he saw my eyes, he would know. He would know how scared I was, how much I resented being forced here, and how much I loathed him. Getting through this was my only chance for survival. I had been a criminal, before the war. And serving the human race was the only way to avoid being punished for my crimes. It didn't mean much to me. I had "served" them for most of my life. Submiting to whatever they thought would make them whole, make them happy. I rebeled against it once. Saying it was my body and that I wouldn't give it to who the State told me to, anymore. That was my crime. The State said it was an abuse of my God-Given gift. The gift to bear children. If I didn't use that gift as the State saw fit, that was treason. And the punishment for treason, of course, was death. The war offered a way out. A way to atone for my "sins". When the war first started, only men fought. That's the way it had been for centuries. But now, there weren't enough men left to fight. So women,other "malcontents" and criminals, like myself, were pressed into service. There weren't any rich women here. There never were. They were not subject to the same set of laws as us. They didn't have to give themselves to State officials whenever they wanted. And they certainly didn't have to fight.
The Nighters had changed the nature of war. It was more high-tech and more primitive, all at once. Bullets were all but useless against them. Fire would kill most of them, UV would kill others. Almost all of them would die if you cut their heads off. So it was back to swords and shields with these guys. That and UV lasers. Daylight was the only thing that kept us from being completely overrun. We learned to love the sun again, even if we, ourselves, couldn't stand in it's direct fury. We would send out sniffers to find the Nighters' lairs. Then the sniffer would signal for an airstrike. Napalm still worked. Fried 'em up crispier than the Colonel's chicken. But at nightfall, we would loose ground again. Hoards of them would descend on our cities. Screaming and ripping and slashing. The ones most like us, the Vamps, would use weapons like ours. Swords and knives, captured lasers, and even an occasional slug-thrower. But the other ones, the Lycos and Zombies, would just tear you apart with their claws and hands. The Ghosts were worst of all. Sometimes you would recognise them. Someone who had fought and fallen beside you. Not much worked on them. Maybe a Holy Man. Weren't too many of them left. They were the first targets. 'Course, Ghosts couldn't realy do much to you either... 'cept block you from seeing something else... and make you think as how one day, you might be one of 'em.
I did well in the millitary. I was unusualy strong, agile, and crafty for a human female of my social standing. 'Course, I had a little advantage with hand-to-hand. This State guy, used to come to me... he was from some South Pacific place. He could fight like nobody's business. It amused him to teach me. So I already knew what to do with swords and stuff. After a few battles, they started treating me a little different. Less like a criminal and more like a soldier. Then they started letting me do stuff. Giving me leave and the like. Then they started pinning medals and stripes on me. The troops started calling me "Sarge". But I still hated all of them. Almost as much as I hated the Nighters. That's what kept me going. Fighting the Nighters. As bad as the State was, with it's religious fervor, injustice, corruption, and government sanctioned rape, the Nighters were worse. They'd rip out your soul, chew it up and spit it out again. Then you'd be one of them. Then you'd be hunting down your friends. Weren't too many friends in the millitary. For that exact reason. We'd embrace with frenzied passion, fight and die for each other. But not one of us would call another "friend", and the concept of love was non-existant. The grim possiblity of someone you loved, coming back as one of them, was too frightening, and all too real.
June of '05 was when things started to get real interesting. It went back and forth for a while. The Nighters would overrun us during the night, then we'd take it back in the day. Then we started holding our own at night, as well. The weapons started getting better. Laser tech improved at a rapid rate. They got more powerful and more compact. They could put one in the hilt of a GI short sword, with emiters in the quillions, two beams per blade. Nice fire and slicing power. This became the standerd GI side-arm. We called 'em "slash & flash". I carried two of them, suited to my particular fighting style. Then we started to hear rumors. A new weapon had been developed. Some sort of "UV-bomb". Supposed to win the war for us. Just like the A-bomb in WWII. We couldn't use nukes on the Nighters 'cause they were too close to the cities... nukes would kill just as many of us as it did of them. So the idea was, use the sniffers and the nampalm in day, and the new uv-bombs at night. We were issued new BDUs. Supposed to block out the UV. Along with masks and goggles. I remember the first time we used 'em. The Nighters were making a run on D.C. We let them advance accross the river... fell back to the Capitol. I could hear the count-down through my comm...3...2...1...Bacon! Then the city just... lit up. From the Washington Monument, St. Aloysius Church tower on Eye Street, and other high points of the city. Condensed daylight splashed the streets. Most of the Nighters just went *poof*... nothing but dust. The ones that didn't, were cut down by lasers and blades. We fought like never before, that night. It was wholesale slaughter, but this time, it was us doing the slaughtering. It was our first major victory. The next morning, the sniffers tracked down the ones that got away. Our victory was complete. We knew that other cities would follow. Soon, the Nighters would just be a bad memory. We partied up after that. The smell of Promotion was in the air. And for some of us, maybe even freedom.
I stood there, looking at the new bars on my chest, and the letter in my hand. I was given the option of shipping out, or re-uping. Didn't have to think to hard about it... I was outta there. I was free. All kind of ironic. The State that had incarcerated me, now freed and supported me. I was a War Hero... with a very nice pension. I kept my BDUs and my side arms. I was even alowed to cary them around if I wanted. After all, the Nighters were still out there. They hadn't been wiped out yet. The thought was that I could help mobilize a malitia if the Nighters made another run. Fine with me, as long as I was free. Oh... and I didn't have to bone nobody, anymore... 'less I wanted to.
So I went out on the town. Walking around in BDUs and slash & flash at my side. People looked at me, where envious of me. A State Bimbo went past me, adoration in her eyes. I recognized her. I wonder if she would have adored me if she knew her hubby was bopping me on regular basis, a few years back. I found a nice watering hole and started getting snockered. Drinks were on the house for the war hero. I watched them through my chemical haze. How I despised them, how I wished for some way to make them pay. Sure, I was upper-crust now, but what a price I paid for it. What would I be willing to pay to see all of them suffer, I wondered? The answer would have scared me once. Now I just didn't care.
I left the bar... stagering with self assurance and superiority. As I walked past a stereotypicaly dark alley, something rushed past me... to fast to see. I felt myself lifted and disarmed, then thrown into the alley. Something landed on me, pinning me to the ground. And then... Oh God, No! Not Again! Not this again! I don't have to do that anymore! I'm a Hero!
"I heard you, Hero," Said a cold whisper in my ear. "You called me with your desire. Your will to make others suffer... You summoned me. Don't cry about it,now. I'm here to give you what you want"
And then the pain. Two brilliant points in my neck. A kind of unlight that burned through to my soul. And then *nothing*