Monsters And Aliens
Bloodthirsty Savages

Chapter 1: Powerless

Jill started to turn pale as she searched through her locker. It had to be there! It just had to be! It was much too important to just get lost! She couldn't survive without it!

At last, however, Jill reached the bottom of her locker, and hissed angrily, slamming it shut in a huff. It had finally happened. Every one of the blood samples she'd brought with her was missing.

Before even another second had passed, Jill had burst out of the locker room, and across the main body of the jumbo lander she was in. As she moved through the short hallway in the middle of that lander, she passed by a long window, which revealed the outside world; the red, sandy contours of the martian landscape.

Jill had originally joined the Mars mission out of a desire for prestige and power; maybe even a foothold into the upper classes, or, she'd mused, parliament itself. She'd known that there was danger involved, but it had, in her mind, been worth the risk. However, the one thing she hadn't counted on was losing her most important possession in a confined location, with only seventeen other people around. She already suspected that she knew what had happened, but she was determined to investigate, just to be safe.

In moments, Jill Barclay had flung open the door to the main control room for the lander, and there, she saw three of her fellow crewmen; one of whom was grinning at her in an infuriating manner. Reggie Soames was one of the most aggrivating people who Jill had ever met. He seemed to go out of his way to upset her every chance he got. In fact, half the time, he acted as if all he wanted to do was sew dissention and make waves. The only reason why Jill hadn't already killed him was because it would have been difficult to get away with it in a secluded place like that. Still, if he'd done what she thought he had, then that was it. She couldn't just let that pass.

"Someone's been through my locker." Jill barked angrily, scowling at everyone in that room, and hoping that one of them would stand up, and save her the trouble of having to ask any further questions, "Some samples of mine were stolen. I want to know who did it."

However, it turned out that Jill's suspicions had been correct after all. No sooner had she finished her announcement, than Soames stood up, still grinning openly, and replied to her in a very haughty tone of voice, which made her want to strike him down where he stood.

"Jill, you know you weren't allowed to bring any living samples in your locker. They had to be kept in the cargo hold, remember?"

"Opening the cargo hold requires authorization from the captain." Jill replied back angrily, still hoping to salvage the situation in some way, "I'd have to go to a ton of trouble just to get to them if I kept them there. Are you telling me you're the one who took my things? They'd better be in one piece!"

However, when Reggie replied to that, it was obvious that he'd made a very big mistake indeed.

"Your precious samples should be in the sand by now, Jill. If you really cared about them, you should have..."

However, just then, the captain, who'd been sitting nearby, got to his feet, and his voice was strong and clear.

"That's enough! I don't care what you two have against each other, but you're both in the wrong here. Jill, you should have followed the proper procedures, so you'll need to file a formal report to the main command post in Swindon, and as for you, Reggie, you need to learn to respect other people's property. You're going to apologize to Jill right now."

"Captain, she's..."

"Now."

Reggie seemed to be on the verge of losing his temper, but he must have realized that he couldn't argue with the Captain, and gritted his teeth angrily, turning to face Jill again.

"Sorry." Reggie muttered kurtly, looking as if he didn't mean it in the least.

However, it was too late for an apology by that point. Reggie had done the worst possible thing for that mission; destroying Jill's samples, and that meant that she had only one more thing to do. Her scowl didn't fade for even a moment, as she spoke to him one more time.

"We need to talk about this. Follow me, Reggie."

Jill had spoken those last words with a very special intonation; one that she rarely dared to use. It was a tone that was directed specifically at Reggie; almost an echo, which only he could hear, and yet, it would have a profound effect on someone like him; who had no real motives, morals or will to speak of. In moments, he started to stiffen up a little, his eyes staring blankly ahead, as if searching for something a huge distance beyond the walls of the Mars lander. That was all there was to it. From that point on, Jill knew that Reggie would do whatever she said. Best of all, the captain and the other crewman in that room didn't seem to suspect a thing.

Quickly, Jill reopened the door she'd come in by, and led Reggie into the hallway beyond, then towards the window in that room. There was no one outside that window, she reasoned. After all, it was Mars. The only people there were herself and her other crewmen. When it came down to it, she could get back to Earth without their help if she had to, once she got back aboard the main shuttle. The first thing, she reasoned, was to solve her more pressing problem, though.

Grinning broadly, Jill opened her mouth as wide as she could, revealing a pair of sharp, pearly-white fangs. Her other teeth were pointed too; almost to the point of looking as if they'd been filed down, and in her eyes, there was a deep red glow, as she swept upon the hapless astronaut, and sank her teeth into his throat.

Jill felt her some of her old strength returning, as she drank deeply; absorbing what she could from the poor fool. She didn't like the taste of his thoughts or memories, but then, a wise and strong-willed person would have been much harder to victimize. At last, she could feel that she'd returned to her full power, and removed a large container from her belt, collecting more of her dead comrade's blood, in anticipation of a later need. However, just as Jill was about to make some attempt to dispose of the body, she heard a voice, which seemed to echo all around her; a deep, strong voice, that brought out a terrible fear; even in her inhuman heart.

"Bloodthirsty savages! You have ignored our warning! Now, you are doomed!"

At first, when Jill recovered from her initial shock, she started looking around for the source of the voice, but then, she saw something that sent a fresh fear through her. A bright, red light; like a blazing inferno was coming from the window. In spite of her fear, Jill quickly rushed to the window, and looked outside. There, she saw the most horrifying sight of her un-life. A massive, red beam had filled the sky of Mars for just a moment, and at last, when the beam was gone, Jill could tell that something had gone wrong. Before, she'd been able to sense the presence of the people in the shuttle, but suddenly, all of them had just vanished, as if they'd been wiped from existence.

However, Jill didn't have any time to wonder what that meant, before another red beam tore through the lander, surrounding her from all sides, and vaporizing her completely. She didn't even have a moment to react.

Lieutenant Peterson felt a lump form in his throat as he tried to listen for more information on the transmission channels, but there was nothing. It was as if, just like that, the whole Mars mission had just disappeared, and worse yet, they had no idea who or what was responsible.

"They're... They're gone sir." Peterson almost choked out to his commanding officer; General Kingston, "I'm getting nothing."

The general cursed, as he stepped forward, turning a few dials on the machines in front of them, but deep down, he must have known that it wouldn't do any good. That strange voice had come in over all the channels at once, and then a moment later, the Mars mission had vanished.

Kingston picked up the phone just a moment later. He didn't like having to report what he'd just heard, because he was afraid that it would somehow make the disaster seem more real, but after all, he did have a duty to perform.

However, the general had just barely even started to dial, when suddenly, the line went dead. There was no dial tone, or busy signal, or anything else. The phone had gone completely silent, as if it had just stopped working. Then, in one more moment, the lights overhead started flickering, and at last, everything just seemed to shut down all at once; the lights, the computers, the display screens... In fact, Kingston discovered just a moment later, even his wristwatch had stopped.

"Sir?" Peterson asked, the tension rising in his voice as he spoke, though it was obvious that everyone in that room was just as scared as he was by that point, "What's going on? What do we do?"

Kingston didn't have an answer; not for Peterson or anyone else. However, as soon as the lieutenant had asked the question, something new happened. As one, every display screen and computer terminal in the room turned on again, but the only thing displayed on them were a series of black numbers on a blue background, and they were counting down; one second at a time. It wasn't any more obvious just what those numbers meant, but, the general realized, assuming that two numbers were for seconds, two for minutes and two for hours, that countdown timer would finish in about three and a half days.

Somehow, Kingston had a feeling that the timer wasn't going to end with a party.

It was the greatest planetwide disaster in recent memory. All at once, every electrical device on planet Earth; everything that had any sort of electric current running through it had just shut down, and those machines capable of numerical displays had all begun counting down in big, black numbers. Planes had crashed, hospitals had lost patients, traffic everywhere had just stopped where it was. Computers were unresponsive, television and radio ceased to exist, and movie theaters couldn't even run their oldest projectors. Electronics as a whole had simply ground to a halt.

The worst part, however, was that mysterious timer. It was obviously in anticipation of something, but opinion was divided as to what. Some believed that when the timer finished, an even worse tragedy would occur. Others thought that the timer signified the time when the cause of that strange disaster would finally be revealed. Only a few, however, believed that the timer signified anything good; like when the power would come back on. For virtually everyone on Earth, it was a sign that doom was fast approaching.

The worst of it, of course, was the reaction of people all over the world. Riots, looting and fires broke out in nearly every major city that claimed to be civilized, and most of the ones that made no such claim, and those troubles were only made worse by the fact that most government officials seemed just as terrified as everyone else, if not unable to even think straight. It was a terrible mess, in which thousands of people died.

Still, in a desperate situation like that one, when everyone seemed to be in terrible danger, the opportunity was greatest for those seeking power.

The prime minister shivered as he put another log on the fire. He'd never expected to need the old fireplace again. After all, his estate was powered by three separate backup generators, just in case anything went wrong. The power in his rooms should have turned right back on again, in case of any simple power failure. However, whatever or whoever had caused that global blackout; in wasn't simply a series of bad connections. Something, somewhere, was interfering with the very flow of electricity, all over the world.

Of course, it scared him just as much as any of the people he served, but he knew that he couldn't let people see his fear. Without the television cameras watching his every move, that would be easier. The hard part would be getting all his cabinet members to settle down and think straight. They needed lots of information in a hurry, and they had precious few resources to use in gathering it. Still, there had to be some way to find out what was going on, and...

That was strange, the prime minister thought to himself, tossing another log onto the fire. As late as it was in the year, it seemed to be getting colder by the second, in spite of the blaze in front of him. In fact, it almost felt as if he'd left the window open...

Quickly, the prime minister got to his feet and spun around to face the window. Sure enough, he'd forgotten to lock it, and someone had climbed in through it, staring in his direction, with the fiery glare of a merciless predator. The worst part, though, was that the prime minister recognized his new visitor. It was Lord Danesbury; one of the more reclusive members of high society in the United Kingdom. He'd probably come in through a ladder, the prime minister thought for a moment, but then again, what was he doing there in the first place, and why hadn't he just knocked on the front door? What could be so important, that it would justify breaking into his room through an open window?

"Danesbury?" the prime minister demanded angrily, "What do you think you're doing? Couldn't you have come in by the front door, like everyone else?"

"You didn't answer at the front door, and your maid seems to be missing," Danesbury replied in a slightly more aggrivated tone of voice than usual, "so I realized that you were up here instead. I think we both know that we don't have a great deal of time on our hands at this point, however. It's not going to end with any simple power failure."

"Danesbury... Do you know something about what's going on here?"

In another moment, though, Lord Danesbury had pulled a slip of paper from the expensive suit he was wearing, and stepped forward, handing it to the prime minister. The moment that he saw what was written on it, however, he knew what Danesbury was trying to say. The newspaper article was from an old issue of the Gazette, and it read, it big, black letters, across what must have been the front page; "Invading Aliens Cause Global Blackout."

"I heard something about this." the prime minister remarked in amazement, as he continued to scan the article, "Some kind of alien life-form landed in the States during the fifties, and shut down almost all the power in the world, for a while."

"I have quite a few articles from around that time," Danesbury replied, "and most of them are similar to this one; full of fear and conjecture. Still, I was able to get a few facts out of them. The alien's name was Klaatu, and he had a message to deliver to mankind. He was sent to warn us that man's violence would not be permitted in space, and that if we ever tried to bring our violence to other worlds, the Earth would be reduced to a cinder. The first way in which he proved his superiority was to shut down nearly all of Earth's power for a period of thirty minutes."

The prime minister wasn't sure how to feel at that point. Since the disaster had first started, he'd wanted nothing but answers. Suddenly, he was getting a few that sounded likely, but they weren't making him any less nervous. In fact, just having Danesbury in that room was starting to make him a little antsy, and he wasn't even sure why.

"In other words," the prime minister remarked grimly, "our enemy is an alien, who's already proven that his technology is far superior to ours. Without electricity, we can't even break Earth's gravity, much less mount any kind of fighting force against him. This is worse than I thought. We don't have a prayer."

However, Danesbury's expression was starting to turn a bit blank at that point, as if he wanted to get mad at the prime minister, but was too proud to risk it. At last, straightening up a little more, he made a suggestion of his own.

"I'd like to propose that there are other ways of breaking the pull of Earth's gravity, sir," Danesbury said coldly, "and there are also other ways of fighting a battle than with mere, military force. If you need further proof of that, just look at Japan. In all the trouble they've gotten into, when was the last time they fought the old-fashioned way?"

However, the prime minister was growing more and more terrified as he listened to Danesbury's words, because he didn't like the sound of what was being proposed. At last, however, he just remarked "What are you asking me to do?"

"For some time," Danesbury replied, "I've been monitoring a group of individuals, who I think have a true chance for greatness. I'm afraid that they are all criminals of one sort or another, though. I would need your written approval to visit some of them, and your active cooperation in seeing others. However, I believe that I can gather them all into one place, and teach them proper discipline before the deadline runs out. In exchange, I want you to arrange for all of them to have their criminal records erased completely. Many are fugitives, and it will be difficult to bargain with them as it is."

However, at that point, the prime minister started chuckling, and Danesbury's scowl began to deepen in response.

"Even supposing I go along with this plan," the prime minister replied, almost snickering, "and you manage to form the finest black ops group in history, what makes you think they can fight aliens?"

"Because," Danesbury replied, "I will be with them, and I have something that none of your operatives will ever have; power."

"Power?" the prime minister asked with a sarcastic nod, though he could already feel a strange chill traveling up his spine, "If it's power they need, they should talk to me. I'm the most powerful person in the United Kingdom."

"No." Danesbury replied, however, shaking his head in a chilling, haughty manner, "You're mistaken, sir. The most powerful person in this room, right now, is me."

"What did you say?" the prime minister demanded, his anger starting to grow. However, Danesbury didn't look like he was about to back down. In fact, he seemed to be deep in thought, as if reconsidering a decision that he'd been about to make. When he spoke again, there was a strange kind of echo in his voice, which chilled the prime minister to the core.

"You're a sinful soul, sir. You may seem to be the greatest champion for good, which your whole nation has to offer, but in reality, you have been separated from true goodness for too long. The fact that others among your country have condoned worse sins is meaningless. You encourage rampant sinfulness from your position of power, and you've never repented. You would be so easy to control."

As Danesbury said that, however, something seemed to have happened, which the prime minister couldn't explain. As he listened to the echo of Lord Danesbury's words, he realized that he couldn't move, or speak, or indeed, do anything but stare into that strange man's eyes; that man who he'd once thought he understood, but who, it seemed, was much more than he appeared.

At last, one hand outstretched towards the prime minister, Danesbury advanced on him; one step at a time, and when they were only a short distance from one another, the prime minister saw something that made his blood grow cold with fear. There was a blood red color in Lord Danesbury's eyes.

"As you may have guessed already, Vincent Timothy Danesbury is little more than a name, which I assumed for my own convenience." the vampire said at last, "I could have chosen any name, in any nation, but I came here, because this was the one place that always thwarted me in the past. I knew that its people had become so skeptical, and its government so corrupt, that I would have no difficult infiltrating London in this twenty-first century, and I was right. Two hundred years past, this city nearly destroyed me, but you are too weak now. You have no power of your own."

The prime minister wanted desperately to defend himself in some way; to go for some kind of weapon, or attack the vampire as well as he could, but as much as he wanted to, he still couldn't move.

"Don't bother." the vampire replied, seeming to notice those thoughts, even as they shot through the prime minister's head, "Even if you could attack me, you could never defeat me in battle. I could have trounced the likes of you, even when I was a man. This is the kind of power that I was telling you about, and it's the kind that I intend to gather. You'll help me; either of your own free will, or under my power. The choice is yours."

With those words, the vampire lowered his arm, and the prime minister nearly fell forward, gasping for breath. He was still having a hard time believing any of that, and yet, he knew that something had happened to him; something he was powerless against. Still, even if everything that "Danesbury" had said was true, that still left him full of questions.

"Why?" the prime minister eventually gasped out in confusion, "Why didn't you do this when you first became a lord? You could have taken control at any time, and..."

"Because brute force is rarely needed, where finesse and good planning will suffice." the vampire replied, "Until now, you've never showed any sign of ignoring my will when it was important, and this is a very important matter."

By that point, though, as ridiculous as it seemed, the prime minister's regrets about helping Danesbury were starting to fade away. As ruthless as he was, and no matter what strange powers he possessed, it seemed that the vampire was only trying to save the planet Earth from destruction. It was one of the few goals that they could both cooperate on, and not feel as if their power had been abused. For the moment, then, the prime minister decided to play along with Danesbury, and hope that he could find some way of stopping him later.

"Alright." the prime minister replied at last, only halfway sure that the words were really his, even as they seeped out of his mouth, "I'll help you gather your operatives. What do you need from me?"

"That's better." Danesbury replied, "However, I'm afraid that the first will be the hardest. I'll need to be admitted, through whatever means neccesary, to the complex underneath Bunker thirty-two, in Granger Base in Ohio, in the United States. We need big muscle for this mission, and that complex holds some of the biggest in the western world..."

Danesbury looked dispassionately down at his watch again for the third time since he'd been led into that room. It was a plain white room, with no windows or decorations, aside from one water cooler and a table with a few chairs. There was virtually nothing in there to see or do, although Danesbury could hear everything nearby from where he was, including the rhythmic thudding noises that were coming from deep below; like an elephant roaming around. Danesbury found the notion fascinating, which was why he'd put up with that prolonged wait, but still, even his patience had its limits; especially when he was on a deadline. Danesbury was just getting up to head for the front desk again, and make sure his message had really been received, when the very person he'd been wanting to speak to stormed in; General Glenn. He looked like his hair was about to fall out from worry, and he didn't even spare Danesbury a second glance as he rushed over to the water cooler and started pouring two cups, although Danesbury knew that he couldn't accept the kind of drink being offered to him, waving it away as politely as he could. Glenn just shrugged a moment later, downing both cups of water, and turning to Danesbury with an unpleasant scowl, although, in all the years he'd been alive, the vampire had seen much worse.

"Well?" the general remarked a bit rudely, tossing the cups into the plastic trash can right next to the water cooler. Of course, Danesbury realized, that was his chance to explain his reason for being there. Credentials and favors could get him onto the base, but only his own skill and charm could get him into the good graces of the one commanding it.

Still, that looked like a daunting task. The general was a stout man, as well as being very tall; over six foot two; the vampire guessed. His shoulders were uncommonly broad too, and his arms and legs seemed impressively long. He would have been intimidating to any ordinary fighter. On top of that, he was clearly in a very sour mood; a fifty-something year old veteran of some kind, who was getting unpleasantly gray around the edges, and looked ready to snap at anyone he met. Still, Danesbury had a job to do.

"I'm here as an emissary of the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom." Danesbury explained, oversimplifying the truth a bit; a trick he often used, "I've been charged with locating talented and powerful veterans, in the hopes of forming some kind of international strike force, to fight whatever's caused this current disaster, so considering all that, you must know why I'm here."

However, the General just looked more aggrivated when Danesbury said that, and a moment later, his reply actually confused the British lord for a moment.

"No, I don't, and I don't have time for guessing games. Either tell me what you're doing here, or leave me alone. You can't be here to recruit me."

"Fine, General." Danesbury finally replied, throwing caution to the wind, "I'd like to speak with Colonel Archer, please."

"Who?"

By that point, though, Danesbury was starting to lose his cool a little. Under the circumstances, and considering the very real danger, he didn't feel like beating around the bush.

"General Glenn, whatever happened to the power in this base has effected the whole world, and that probably means that we're all in danger. I assure you that it's in your own best interests, and the interests of your country, to cooperate with me. This is no time for secrets. You've never deployed Colonel Archer against us, and I have no intention of revealing her secret, so long as you please take me to meet with her. Her help could be vitally important."

"Mister Danesbury..." the general just replied flatly, however, looking like he was really getting irritated by that point, "You seem to know more about what goes on around here than I do. I've never heard of any Colonel Archer, and I can't imagine why you'd travel so far to talk to one woman anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a global emergency that we all need to deal with. I really don't have time for nonsense."

Danesbury was just about to start shouting at the general for being pigheaded and proud, however, when something else occurred to him, and for the first time, he wondered if General Glenn might really be ignorant of what was going on under his very nose.

"How long have you worked at Granger Base, General?" Danesbury finally asked, and that question seemed to produce a much more informative response.

"Not a long time. In fact, I was just transferred here two days ago. My predecessor; Colonel Ferris died in a fire, and I haven't even had a chance to tour the whole base yet, but I have looked over all the official maps and personnel reports."

"It wouldn't be on the official record. You wouldn't know about Colonel Archer unless you'd met her yourself."

"Then I don't know what you're talking about. I've never met any Colonel Archer."

"In that case," Danesbury suggested, getting to his feet in a casual way, "why don't we go and meet with her together? Just give me clearance to follow you, and we'll head down to the bottom floor of Bunker thirty-two. I promise; it'll be worth the time you've wasted here. In fact, this might just be the most important thing you ever do in your life."

Glenn still looked aggrivated, but seemed to realize that he couldn't negotiate effectively with Danesbury unless he knew more about the based that he was in command of. At last, with a sigh of disappointment, he turned and headed for the door, looking as if he was expecting that day to end extremely badly. Still, when he opened the door, he made one final remark to Danesbury.

"You can follow me if you want to, but no clearance. You'll get through on my authorization, or not at all. I'm getting to the bottom of this, but you're just a tourist as far as I'm concerned, and you'll need to sign a nondisclosure agreement too, just in case."

However, Danesbury didn't feel too bad about that. In fact, he was thrilled, because it meant that he was that much closer to his goal. Just getting his foot in the door had been the risky part.

Glenn remained almost completely silent as he walked through halls and down stairs into bunker thirty-two, carrying an old keroscene lamp to light the way. Of course, it was the only effective source of light that they'd been able to use down there, considering that everything else; even flashlights had just stopped working completely, which meant that it was pitch black in those underground hallways. Still, the general didn't look worried; just aggrivated and annoyed, and he was definitely still acting as if he was in control of the situation. Of course, he had no clue what he was about to see down on the lowest floor of the thirty-second bunker.

Walls and machines of various kinds passed by Glenn and Danesbury on both sides for quite a while; all of them dark and deactivated. At first, the walls seemed to be made of ordinary plaster, and the machines were coated in plastic, but as they descended, floor after floor, more and more of the walls seemed to be made of metal, and the machines were metal-plated too, as if designed to withstand heavy punishments of some kind. Danesbury started smiling the moment he saw that, because it indicated just how powerful Colonel Archer was. All that armor had to be for something important.

Soon, about ten floors down, every door had apparently once been electronically-sealed, and had to be pried open, and every wall was made of metal, and heavily armored. They were already deep underground, and the thudding noises were so much louder, that even Glenn must have been able to feel them through his boots. However, there was still no sign of the one person who Danesbury really wanted to meet, until they finally headed down one more flight of stairs, stepped through one more door, and looked into the hallway beyond. Most of that hallway was made of solid metal, but there was a transparent window along one side of it, and through that window was one of the most astonishing sights that Danesbury had ever seen, in all his centuries. In fact, it was so shocking, that General Glenn actually lost his composure completely, and screamed aloud, backing up into Danesbury in absolute, mortal terror.

Through that transparent window, lit only by some kind of fire on the floor far below, was a veritable mountain of long, black hair, perched just over yards and yards of some thick, black substance, which appeared to be some type of kevlar weave. The substance curved back and forth as it descended further and further in the chamber beyond that window; ten feet down, then twenty, then thirty, then longer still. At that moment, the mass of hair spun around, revealing an even more amazing sight; the face of a beautiful, bruenette woman. By itself, however, that face was over five and a half feet tall. She was a true modern colossus.

There was no mistaking her for any lesser mortal, Lord Danesbury thought to himself in total satisfaction. She was Colonel Nancy Archer; the only fifty-foot woman in America.