Years ago...
Fire burned through the night. Men and women all around took up arms in battle against the threat that swarmed against them, a threat that would devour them and spit them out, twisted and turned.
The Great Vampire War raged on, and in the middle of it was Cross. He stepped forward and stabbed a stake through the back of a vampire that was holding down a Gaian.
He kept walking through the chaos and kicked forward a vampire in the chin as it dove for him. The dark elf knelt down and thrust his stake in ashing the poor b*****d. A pair of them saw him, pointed and ran, fangs dripping in anticipation.
Cross pulled another stake out with his left and pulled his arms back.
"One, two!"
Dust, dust.
Another one came, this one smart enough to wield a weapon. Not smart enough to know it's match. The blade glanced off Cross' gauntlet, sparking as it hit the dust. The vampire hunter's knee flew up into the blood sucker's gut, doubling him over, while his hand came down from above, ashing him as it struck the back of his heart.
Through the dust and fire and screaming, he was doing his best to save these people.
BANG!
"********!" Cross held his stomach and dropped onto a knee. He looked down and saw his garb had stopped the bullet, but it still hurt like a b***h. He then looked up to see the triggerman.
Zhivago.
"Ya picked the wrong dark elf to ******** with t'night vamp."
"Oh did I?"
BANG! Cross jumped out of the way in time and made his path towards the b*****d. It'd be stupid to run straight at him, so Cross jumped through throngs of people engaging in battle.
Once he'd made it to Zhivago's flank, Cross threw a stake out at him.
The vampire aimed his gun at it and fired, causing the powder hidden with the stake to rupture and explode. The blast knocked him back and was Cross cue to attack.
He leaped through the dust and smoke at Zhivago stake in hand.
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