“Best regards… comma… new line, new line… Grant Stonehouse.”
The successful businessman scrolled through his freshly written email – a detailed overview of a potentially lucrative venture with a new client who was based across the other side of the city – to check for errors. As ever, there were none. Manoeuvring a small arrow on the screen with the mouse that was conveniently placed just below the keypad of his laptop, the meticulous entrepreneur announced his intentions aloud to the gathered crowd of exactly nobody.
“And send.”
The message whizzed away into the electronic ether, transported, almost magically, via the joyous creation known as wi-fi.
“If only I could instantly teleport myself across the city like an email,” said Stonehouse, gazing up at the ceiling as he reclined on his leather office chair.
His hands cupped the back of his head, fingers entwining with thick locks of dark hair. A mischievous grin began to spread across his face, like a tear in the ground following a gigantic earthquake.
“Oh, hang on,” he continued, “I can do that… because I’m a fuckin’ amazing vampire!”
A smug giggle erupted through his lips, laughter lava that echoed throughout the empty office. Life - if that was the correct word to use - as a vampire was pretty good right now for Grant Stonehouse. His businesses were booming, his powers were growing, and his social life was… entertaining. Vampires were the top dogs, the alpha predators, sitting pretty at the summit of both the food chain and the evolutionary scale.
Some folk, the unenlightened knuckle scrapers of the world such as the flat Earth brigade, or religious extremists, didn’t necessarily believe in evolution, but vampires were “living” proof of the next level up on the ladder. They had evolved to become stronger, faster and more agile than their human counterparts. Vampires were the next logical step in life’s great journey. The religious zealots who believed in creationism had surely got it all wrong. If God had indeed fashioned the most advanced creatures, in theory that being mankind, in the image of himself to rule over the Earth, then perhaps God was actually a vampire, as the undead were now the pinnacle of creation? An ability to come back from the dead, resurrection for want of a better word, and a mantra of drinking his blood to gain eternal life did seem to fit the bill.
Despite its occasional drawbacks, Stonehouse revelled in being a member of the master race. Why be a slave when you could rule? The top dog always gets the bone.
While his laptop was open, Stonehouse took the opportunity to log into CrowNet, a secretive site than acted like a cross between the vampiric equivalent of Facebook and the BBC news. The pages were awash with islands of vital information, surrounded by a sea of outrageous views and propaganda. Sorting the wheat from the chaff often required the patience of a saint, but there was usually a nugget of pure gold buried amongst the sand for those in possession of a keen eye.
“Oh, here we go again!” exclaimed Stonehouse. “The Administrator is back!”
The Englishman spoke as if he were a famous author, addressing an audience of dedicated fans at a book signing event while reciting the opening lines from his latest bestselling novel. For months now, Stonehouse had dismissed The Administrator as nothing more than Harper Rock’s version of the Wizard of Oz, hiding behind the shroud of a computer screen, attempting to resemble some kind of guru, the font of all knowledge. Nobody really knew who the mysterious figure actually was, but he would sporadically post so-called “vital” information, often in an inflammatory, self-righteous manner, to grab the attention of the vampire community.
Perhaps The Administrator was a government agent, attempting to compile a dossier of information, or maybe he was just some pesky internet whizz-kid who got his kicks from masquerading as the vampire equivalent of the head of “Anonymous”, the anti-establishment organization famed for their use of Guy Fawkes masks made popular in the movie V for Vendetta? The somewhat irritating computer commando could, of course, be a genuine ally of the vampire world. A lot of what he’d previously blurted onto the pages of CrowNet had actually come to pass, which is what truly frustrated Stonehouse. Although the businessman wanted to disregard the wannabe countercultural Che Guevara as a fraud, there was always something nagging at the back of his mind, a tiny thought that The Administrator was genuinely telling the truth.
The latest conspiracy theory being dished out by The Administrator involved, not the first time, the Hebigumo Foundation. Apparently, the altruistic corporation was in the business of developing cutting-edge technologies that were aimed to improve the quality of human life, but Stonehouse knew that this cover story was a complete sham. The Hebigumo Foundation was run by the Jorogumo, a group of shapeshifting Sirens. It was Harper Rock’s version of the Hawkins National Laboratory from Stranger Things, a hive for all kinds of shady experimentation and dodgy dealing. Stonehouse knew this to be true because he’d thoroughly investigated the corporation, having gone toe to toe with a small army of Sirens in the depth of some kind of a recently excavated tunnel system. This mini conflict was the direct result of an earlier announcement from The Administrator.
Having abandoned their previous excavation site in the Swansdale region of town, the scene of Stonehouse’s previous underground escapade, the Sirens had seemingly been digging elsewhere. The fact that they filled in the original maze of tunnels almost as quickly as they’d been excavated would lead anyone with a suspicious disposition to wonder what the hell they were trying to hide, but it was the latest discovery that ought to really set the alarm bells ringing. The fruit of their manic mining mission was the unearthing of an ancient subterranean building called the Labyrinth, which, according to the almighty Administrator, was potentially a gateway for the Sirens to unlock what they desperately desired: the key to damaging the Rift.
Stonehouse stared at the computer screen, digesting the information presented by The Administrator, and absorbing the responses offered by those trolling his statement. How many of those responding had actually been face to face with the insane Siren that Stonehouse and a couple of his colleagues, Levi and Pru, had captured deep underground in the foreboding darkness? How many of them had witnessed his confession, been privy to his secrets as they spilled out through his trembling lips?
Leaning back in his chair, spinning it from left to right, then back again repeatedly like a metronome, the intelligent businessman begin to juggle various slices of information that he’d obtained over the last year or two, slotting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. There always seemed to be a common thread running through The Administrator’s posts, along with a rich vein of problems that couldn’t simply be labelled as coincidental. The Sirens were definitely up to no good, pulling more and more strings in an attempt to take control of Harper Rock, to become the puppet masters.
Firstly for Stonehouse, there had been the strange incident involving Sirens and their unnerving ability to charm a reasonable number of bloodsuckers. On this particular occasion, the outcome was nothing more than a thoroughly enjoyable amorous encounter with an equally “liberated” vampire, but that sense of being out of control, manipulated, sat incredibly uneasily with Stonehouse. Granted, he was much weaker back then, unable to resist the mental attack that lured him onto the Siren’s lustful rocks, but there were currently plenty of other young fledglings around the city who were potentially at risk. A similar assault on the senses could cause chaos, particular with the uneasy peace that existed between vampires and humans. The Sirens would only need to bewitch a handful of vulnerable vampires to manufacture a major incident. The pendulum of peace could easily swing towards all out conflict.
Next came the aforementioned soirée deep beneath the foundations of Harper Rock, when it became clear that the Siren-controlled Hebigumo Foundation was searching for something huge, something powerful, buried within the rock and soil. It appeared that they had been unsuccessful on that particular occasion, but what about now, what about the Labyrinth? Were they on the verge of harnessing whatever power lay hidden in the murky underworld? The way that undead monsters were spawning within the dank corridors of both the abandoned first dig and the freshly revealed Labyrinth filled Stonehouse with an unsettling feeling of impending trouble.
Stonehouse scratched his head, formulating a plan. Did the Wendigos in the forest also have something to do with this? Again, it was his old friend, The Administrator, who had brought the potential Wendigo threat to the attention of the vampire community. They had only resurfaced relatively recently, at a time roughly coinciding with the increased level of activity of the Hebigumo Foundation. Sirens like the Jorogumo and the Encantado were demifae, as were the Wendigo. Was this a strange coincidence, or something more sinister? Stonehouse didn’t know if there was a definitive connection between any of these events; perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree, but he needed to find out.
Stonehouse leant across his solid oak desk, and grabbed his phone. He’d heard nothing from Levi, the smartly dressed businessman of Italian decent, in months, but Pru, the feisty redhead, had been spotted mowing down beasties on more than one occasion. It was time to make a quick call, time to get Pru’s opinion. The thoughts of others would surely follow.
The methodical businessman continued to mull over the situation as his brushed aluminium phone started to dial out. If the Sirens were able to damage the Rift, perhaps even destroy it, wouldn’t that weaken the vampire race, leaving all of them exposed and vulnerable? The whole dynamic of the city could change in a flash. The Sirens would able to breed with their human minions, to take their own evolutionary process on to the next stage due to weakened opposition. It was survival of the fittest, not survival of the weakest. Possibly, eventually, could they take over control of Harper Rock? Vampires would no longer be the top dogs, no longer be the ones holding the bone.
The successful businessman scrolled through his freshly written email – a detailed overview of a potentially lucrative venture with a new client who was based across the other side of the city – to check for errors. As ever, there were none. Manoeuvring a small arrow on the screen with the mouse that was conveniently placed just below the keypad of his laptop, the meticulous entrepreneur announced his intentions aloud to the gathered crowd of exactly nobody.
“And send.”
The message whizzed away into the electronic ether, transported, almost magically, via the joyous creation known as wi-fi.
“If only I could instantly teleport myself across the city like an email,” said Stonehouse, gazing up at the ceiling as he reclined on his leather office chair.
His hands cupped the back of his head, fingers entwining with thick locks of dark hair. A mischievous grin began to spread across his face, like a tear in the ground following a gigantic earthquake.
“Oh, hang on,” he continued, “I can do that… because I’m a fuckin’ amazing vampire!”
A smug giggle erupted through his lips, laughter lava that echoed throughout the empty office. Life - if that was the correct word to use - as a vampire was pretty good right now for Grant Stonehouse. His businesses were booming, his powers were growing, and his social life was… entertaining. Vampires were the top dogs, the alpha predators, sitting pretty at the summit of both the food chain and the evolutionary scale.
Some folk, the unenlightened knuckle scrapers of the world such as the flat Earth brigade, or religious extremists, didn’t necessarily believe in evolution, but vampires were “living” proof of the next level up on the ladder. They had evolved to become stronger, faster and more agile than their human counterparts. Vampires were the next logical step in life’s great journey. The religious zealots who believed in creationism had surely got it all wrong. If God had indeed fashioned the most advanced creatures, in theory that being mankind, in the image of himself to rule over the Earth, then perhaps God was actually a vampire, as the undead were now the pinnacle of creation? An ability to come back from the dead, resurrection for want of a better word, and a mantra of drinking his blood to gain eternal life did seem to fit the bill.
Despite its occasional drawbacks, Stonehouse revelled in being a member of the master race. Why be a slave when you could rule? The top dog always gets the bone.
While his laptop was open, Stonehouse took the opportunity to log into CrowNet, a secretive site than acted like a cross between the vampiric equivalent of Facebook and the BBC news. The pages were awash with islands of vital information, surrounded by a sea of outrageous views and propaganda. Sorting the wheat from the chaff often required the patience of a saint, but there was usually a nugget of pure gold buried amongst the sand for those in possession of a keen eye.
“Oh, here we go again!” exclaimed Stonehouse. “The Administrator is back!”
The Englishman spoke as if he were a famous author, addressing an audience of dedicated fans at a book signing event while reciting the opening lines from his latest bestselling novel. For months now, Stonehouse had dismissed The Administrator as nothing more than Harper Rock’s version of the Wizard of Oz, hiding behind the shroud of a computer screen, attempting to resemble some kind of guru, the font of all knowledge. Nobody really knew who the mysterious figure actually was, but he would sporadically post so-called “vital” information, often in an inflammatory, self-righteous manner, to grab the attention of the vampire community.
Perhaps The Administrator was a government agent, attempting to compile a dossier of information, or maybe he was just some pesky internet whizz-kid who got his kicks from masquerading as the vampire equivalent of the head of “Anonymous”, the anti-establishment organization famed for their use of Guy Fawkes masks made popular in the movie V for Vendetta? The somewhat irritating computer commando could, of course, be a genuine ally of the vampire world. A lot of what he’d previously blurted onto the pages of CrowNet had actually come to pass, which is what truly frustrated Stonehouse. Although the businessman wanted to disregard the wannabe countercultural Che Guevara as a fraud, there was always something nagging at the back of his mind, a tiny thought that The Administrator was genuinely telling the truth.
The latest conspiracy theory being dished out by The Administrator involved, not the first time, the Hebigumo Foundation. Apparently, the altruistic corporation was in the business of developing cutting-edge technologies that were aimed to improve the quality of human life, but Stonehouse knew that this cover story was a complete sham. The Hebigumo Foundation was run by the Jorogumo, a group of shapeshifting Sirens. It was Harper Rock’s version of the Hawkins National Laboratory from Stranger Things, a hive for all kinds of shady experimentation and dodgy dealing. Stonehouse knew this to be true because he’d thoroughly investigated the corporation, having gone toe to toe with a small army of Sirens in the depth of some kind of a recently excavated tunnel system. This mini conflict was the direct result of an earlier announcement from The Administrator.
Having abandoned their previous excavation site in the Swansdale region of town, the scene of Stonehouse’s previous underground escapade, the Sirens had seemingly been digging elsewhere. The fact that they filled in the original maze of tunnels almost as quickly as they’d been excavated would lead anyone with a suspicious disposition to wonder what the hell they were trying to hide, but it was the latest discovery that ought to really set the alarm bells ringing. The fruit of their manic mining mission was the unearthing of an ancient subterranean building called the Labyrinth, which, according to the almighty Administrator, was potentially a gateway for the Sirens to unlock what they desperately desired: the key to damaging the Rift.
Stonehouse stared at the computer screen, digesting the information presented by The Administrator, and absorbing the responses offered by those trolling his statement. How many of those responding had actually been face to face with the insane Siren that Stonehouse and a couple of his colleagues, Levi and Pru, had captured deep underground in the foreboding darkness? How many of them had witnessed his confession, been privy to his secrets as they spilled out through his trembling lips?
Leaning back in his chair, spinning it from left to right, then back again repeatedly like a metronome, the intelligent businessman begin to juggle various slices of information that he’d obtained over the last year or two, slotting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. There always seemed to be a common thread running through The Administrator’s posts, along with a rich vein of problems that couldn’t simply be labelled as coincidental. The Sirens were definitely up to no good, pulling more and more strings in an attempt to take control of Harper Rock, to become the puppet masters.
Firstly for Stonehouse, there had been the strange incident involving Sirens and their unnerving ability to charm a reasonable number of bloodsuckers. On this particular occasion, the outcome was nothing more than a thoroughly enjoyable amorous encounter with an equally “liberated” vampire, but that sense of being out of control, manipulated, sat incredibly uneasily with Stonehouse. Granted, he was much weaker back then, unable to resist the mental attack that lured him onto the Siren’s lustful rocks, but there were currently plenty of other young fledglings around the city who were potentially at risk. A similar assault on the senses could cause chaos, particular with the uneasy peace that existed between vampires and humans. The Sirens would only need to bewitch a handful of vulnerable vampires to manufacture a major incident. The pendulum of peace could easily swing towards all out conflict.
Next came the aforementioned soirée deep beneath the foundations of Harper Rock, when it became clear that the Siren-controlled Hebigumo Foundation was searching for something huge, something powerful, buried within the rock and soil. It appeared that they had been unsuccessful on that particular occasion, but what about now, what about the Labyrinth? Were they on the verge of harnessing whatever power lay hidden in the murky underworld? The way that undead monsters were spawning within the dank corridors of both the abandoned first dig and the freshly revealed Labyrinth filled Stonehouse with an unsettling feeling of impending trouble.
Stonehouse scratched his head, formulating a plan. Did the Wendigos in the forest also have something to do with this? Again, it was his old friend, The Administrator, who had brought the potential Wendigo threat to the attention of the vampire community. They had only resurfaced relatively recently, at a time roughly coinciding with the increased level of activity of the Hebigumo Foundation. Sirens like the Jorogumo and the Encantado were demifae, as were the Wendigo. Was this a strange coincidence, or something more sinister? Stonehouse didn’t know if there was a definitive connection between any of these events; perhaps he was barking up the wrong tree, but he needed to find out.
Stonehouse leant across his solid oak desk, and grabbed his phone. He’d heard nothing from Levi, the smartly dressed businessman of Italian decent, in months, but Pru, the feisty redhead, had been spotted mowing down beasties on more than one occasion. It was time to make a quick call, time to get Pru’s opinion. The thoughts of others would surely follow.
The methodical businessman continued to mull over the situation as his brushed aluminium phone started to dial out. If the Sirens were able to damage the Rift, perhaps even destroy it, wouldn’t that weaken the vampire race, leaving all of them exposed and vulnerable? The whole dynamic of the city could change in a flash. The Sirens would able to breed with their human minions, to take their own evolutionary process on to the next stage due to weakened opposition. It was survival of the fittest, not survival of the weakest. Possibly, eventually, could they take over control of Harper Rock? Vampires would no longer be the top dogs, no longer be the ones holding the bone.
