361 Death on Two Legs


    (Third Person<b>) </b>1


    “Sir!”


    Mayor Brackham’s office door burst open with a loud crack. His secretary stumbled in, out of breath, clutching a tablet against her chest.


    The panicked look on her face prompted him to rise immediately from behind his desk.


    “What is it?” he insisted in a sharp voice.


    “Sir-” she gasped, still catching her breath, “the city… is under attack. Reports areing in from the mall district and surrounding blocks. People are saying they saw-<b>” </b>


    Brackham’s eyes narrowed. “Saw what?”


    “Weird creatures.” The woman swallowed hard. “But I think it’s vampires, sir.”


    The silence stretched for a second as that word hung in the air like a curse.


    Then Brackham’s expression twisted, first with shock, next with disbelief, and finally, the fury that came when a man’s pride was


    wounded.


    “What!” he eximed with wide eyes.


    His secretary gulped and lowered her head.


    “Where is security?” He barked as he stormed into the hallway. “Get the control room on the line. I want every camera feed on the main


    screen, now!”


    “Yes, sir!” she called, running to keep up with his long strides as she fiddled with her phone.


    By the time Brackham reached the control room, the ce was chaos. Officers were talking over one another, technicians frantically


    typing, a dozen screens flickering with live feeds of the city.


    The moment he walked in with his coat ring behind him, the voices fell to silence, and a bronze calm descended over everyone in the


    room, to which they all reflexively bowed.


    The screens ahead of him glowed with dozens of city feeds, shes of streets, sirens, chaos, all fractured pieces of a nightmare that had started only an hour ago.


    “Report!” Brackham demanded.


    An officer stepped forward, shoulders stiff. “Sir, we have confirmed multiple civilian casualties at the central mall district. Witness ounts describe fast and violent creatures, sir. We are verifying the footage now.”


    Brackham’s eyes narrowed. His stomach twisted.


    He had already heard enough snippets from his secretary, but hearing it spoken aloud, here in his control room, made it real.


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    361 Death on Two Legs


    It was the vampires.


    So, the fire hadn’t finished the job?‘ He thought to himself before returning his attention to them.


    “Show me,” he uttered coldly.


    The technician at the central console erged one of the smaller camera feeds until it filled therge wall screen.


    The first few seconds were grainy, showing normal shoppers, parents, and children. Then the camera jolted.


    Screams tore through the speakers. Something darted past, and a figure mmed into the ss counter.


    The camera caught the blur of movement, the gleam of teeth, and then blood sprayed the floor like spilt paint.


    The sound died in the room, save for the faint hum of machinery.


    Brackham’s hand tightened behind his back. His pulse drummed at his temple.


    He had burned those monsters out of the Eastern woods. He had watched their ashes rise on a live satellite feed.


    He had sworn to himself that not a single one of those blood–drinking parasites would ever breathe again. And yet, here they were, in his


    city. Killing his people.


    “Where was this recorded?” His voice came low, dangerous.


    “The mall, sir. There is more, if you want to-”


    “y it.”


    The officer wavered only a second before opening the next video feed. This one showed the underground parking lot–dim, echoing, the


    kind of ce where sound travels too far.


    The camera shook, and then another figure, tall,posed and purposeful, moved into view.


    “Pause,” Brackham barked as his eyes focused on the screen.


    He knew that stance, that poise. It had to be Alpha Draven. He didn’t need confirmation, he would recognize that wolf anywhere.


    “y it again… slower,” he ordered.


    The vampire lunged. Draven sidestepped with deadly precision and struck. One clean blow, and the creature’s body hit the ground like a


    broken doll. The Alpha barely advanced afterwards. He just turned his head, his eyes cold, calm, and calcting.


    Brackham’s jaw flexed. He had known that Draven and the werewolves could deal with the vampires, yet seeing him there, fighting them,


    in the heart of Duskmoor, was like being pped across the face by fate.


    “Where were the police?” Brackham asked in a t tone.


    “Dyed, sir. The first personnel didn’t understand what they were dealing with.”


    “Of course they didn’t,” Brackham muttered, his voice cutting like a de. “Because none of you have ever seen death walk on two legs


    before.”


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    361 Death on Two Legs


    Then, he turned back to the screen, to the image of Draven frozen mid–strike, surrounded by vampire corpses.


    The vampires were back. His so–called solution had failed.


    The humiliation scorched in Brackham’s chest like acid. He gripped his fists behind his back, forcing himself to stand straight.


    “Lock the city down,” he said atst, each word precise. “Every gate, every exit, every port. No one leaves or enters until I say so. Inform


    the centralmand: Duskmoor is now under a state of emergency. Activate curfew protocols immediately.”


    The officers rushed into motion immediately, phones ringing, lights shing, and orders echoing.


    “Prepare an official announcement,” Brackham continued, voice steady but cold.


    “We are telling the citizens that unidentified creatures attacked the city. There will be no mention of vampires or of anything


    supernatural. If they ask for proof, tell them it’s still under investigation. Our people need to fear, but not panic. We can’t afford more


    loss of lives and a riot. Besides, fear keeps them obedient.”


    “Yes, sir.”


    Brackham’s gaze lingered on the screen onest time. Draven’s presence was an insult, one that he would not forget.


    He had watched Draven’s movements over and over, cataloguing the strikes and their timing. Each rey had been a quiet humiliation.


    The Alpha had moved with a confidence that mocked his own contingency ns. The footage didn’t just show a man fighting–it showed


    a man who had turned ughter into a craft.


    It had made his control feel smaller, and his victory lessplete.


    Brackham turned sharply on his heel and left the room. The doors shut behind him with a metallic thud that echoed like a closing <fn7c2a> Follow current nov?ls on f?i?n?d?n?o?v?e?l?</fn7c2a>


    verdict.


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