"Dammit. Dammit DAMMIT!" Vladimir roared, gripping his jet-black hair with a firm hold. Igor stood in the corner, cowering in fear while simultaneously witnessing his master's horrible rage. Lord Dracula's face had burned a deep red, his skin was covered in sweat, and his eyes...well, his eyes were burning entirely red. Of all things, Igor knew to stay out of his master's wrath when he was like this.

"WHERE THE HELL IS HE!?" he shrieked madly, digging his claws into the interior of his desk so hard that the wood was beginning to burn.

"TELL ME, YOU INCOMPETENT WORMS! WHERE IS HE?!?"

Igor stared around the room nervously, focusing his lazy eyes on the many security officials standing in the room. They all looked so steady and noble, as if what Lord Dracula was saying neither concerned nor bothered them. Unlike Igor, most of the men had kept their composure, refusing to be frightened by the likes of the awesome, deadly advices of Vladimir Dracula. But deep down inside, they were simple cowards; spineless rogues who would burst into tears like girls before crawling back to their mothers' cursed wombs if given the opportunity.

Igor was snapped from his spell by the subtle, slightly maniacal chortle of his master. He looked over and saw Vladimir unsheathe a decorative gilded sword from the wall behind his desk, and he began to saunter around the room with the hilt in his hand. Although the thing weighed almost thrice as much as he, Vladimir handled the weapon with grace and poise earned from hundreds of years of battle experience.

"Now...I will ask you all again." he said carefully, in an eerily light-hearted manner.

"Where...is...Gabriel...Van...Helsing?"

No one replied to the question, and another slick, sickening smile wormed its way across the pale master's handsome face. He gently stepped up to one of the officials and bowed cordially in a gesture of respect. Judging from his heavy golden armor and the large, two-bladed sword at his belt, the man was the general of Count Dracula's army. His noble stance and fierce appearance backed up his extensive knowledge of battle, both on and off the field. General Vittorio Reichsdarht, his name was. Reichsdarht was once one of the most gruesome executioners in all of Romania, and that sadistic fact earned the respect of the master. With an awesome flick of his wrist, Vladimir raised the sword so that the tip pointed at Reichsdarht's chest.

"My fair General," Vladimir asked casually. "You have served me well in the past as you have now. Would you happen to have any information pertaining to our....little guest?"

Through the thick metal and padded armor, Igor could see the gargantuan quiver in fear. The man began to sweat profusely, and his hardened gaze was reduced to that of a feather pillow. Reichsdarht swallowed hard and nodded, presumably too afraid to even speak.

"Yes, my liege." he answered nervously, after a few seconds.

"I have sentries posted in the forest, and archers mounted on the walls in case he dares escape."

Vladimir sensed his weakness and laughed. He pressed the tip of the blade deeper into the man's chest armor, almost to the point that it nearly penetrated his flesh.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you, my General?" Vladimir asked innocently. Reichsdarht shook his fat, bald head and feigned a heavily bearded smile.

"Never, my liege." he answered shakily. "I would rather wish to die first."

Igor felt his flesh crawl as another one of those evil, toothy grins made its way across Vladimir's ageless face, and yet again, his eyes glowed bright red. In the blink of an eye, Vladimir vanished, and within seconds, he was standing directly behind Reichsdarht, the impossibly heavy blade of his gilded sword pressed against the bald general's neck. The man began to squirm helplessly like a fish out of water, but no one in the room dare to challenge the superhuman strength of Lord Dracula.

"My king!" Reichsdarht cried helplessly. "I...have...served...you!"

"You said you would rather wish to die first, General." Vladimir whispered thickly into the doomed man's ear. "And your wish shall be my command."

In the matter of a second, Vladimir dug his blade into the man's skin and brutally dragged the sword across Reichsdarht's throat, sending blood spraying around the room in thick, dark red sheets. The agonizing sound of the man's cries were only intensified by the maniacal laughing of Count Dracula, and the body began to convulse violently, causing the bloody mist to contort like some sort of macabre sprinkler system. A loud sigh could be heard after a few minutes, and Vladimir dropped the burly body to the floor, leaving it to spasm and defecate where it lay. Dracula licked his bloody fingers and clasped the sword in his hands so that the tip of the soiled blade stood against the floor.

"Now." he bellowed casually, gesturing towards Reichsdarht's large corpse.

"You have seen what I have done to someone whom I once respected and loved as my own kin. I advise you to find that Van Helsing twit or I will personally see to it that every one of you will suffer an even worse fate!"

At the end of that statement, the room was immediately emptied, and all of the terrified soldiers either went to find the elusive target or a private place to vomit. Dracula smiled at the display, and focused his eyes on his equally horrified diseased servant.

"He didn't serve a purpose to me in life, so he may as well in death." Vladimir muttered crossly. He quickly turned a fierce gaze to Igor, and smiled inwardly when he saw the diseased man flinch violently.

"Igor, prepare our fine general." Vladimir ordered harshly.

"He shall be our feast for tonight and many nights to come."

The hunchback shuddered once more, but wasted no time obeying his master's orders.