He'd never known such a quiet war. Yes, the fire roared as its flames ate London. Yes, the zeppelin thrummed overhead. But, there were no screams, no wails, no pounding heart beats.
A battle to the death for the ruins of a dead city.
Vlad had been here before, so he wasn't surprised when that first wire whizzed by and sliced off his arm. And, while he had a moment's flashback to a dark London night sixty years before, the wires claimed his other arm, his right leg, his left.
He was almost anticipating the feel of those wires wrapping around what was left of him, and...
Okay,
this he hadn't been expecting.
Vlad sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes.
What a bizarre dream. Maybe he needed therapy or something... Vlad's lips twitched as he remembered the time Van Helsing had asked that twitchy little Austrian fellow to do a 'psychological analysis' of him.
That had been a fun weekend.
He turned and looked over at Walter who was still sleeping next to him. Vlad watched the steady rise and fall of Walter's chest for a moment or two. Then, he smoothed the hair back from the other man's face and settled down next to him, on arm flung over Walter's body.
[For Walter, and NFB, svp]