"Don't you guys think the atmosphere is a bit… off?" Johnny pushed his beloved Yamaha V-Max forward, scanning the eerily quiet streets...
Every door was shut, and every window closed... There wasn't a single soul in sight. The silence was suffocating.
Sean and Mordo exchanged a glance as they stepped out of the RV, the latter shaking his head with a wry smile, "The dark energy in this city is so thick, it's like a storm cloud. Even with magic, I can't detect a single trace of human presence."
Johnny's face twisted in shock, "Did they slaughter everyone?!"
The sudden outburst made the master of the mystic arts' expression darken further. Ignoring the Ghost Rider's dramatics, Mordo explained, "Unlikely. There's no sign of mass killings. Bucharest has over two million people... if Mephisto had carried out a massacre on that scale, the Sorcerer Supreme would never stand by and let it happen."
A gust of wind swirled past, flinging a flyer into Sean's hand. It was an emergency evacuation notice.
The vampires must have used their influence over the city's officials to evacuate most of the population. Bucharest, nestled in the heart of the Wallachian Plain, was an open expanse, split neatly by the Danube River. Moving millions wouldn't have been as difficult as one might think.
What intrigued Sean was what exactly Mephisto was planning. Satellite images had revealed the entire city covered in an enormous blood sigil... streets and landmarks forming the nodes of a colossal crimson eye, its intricate patterns overlapping and intersecting in a grotesque, esoteric design.
It seemed the long-dormant Hell Lord was preparing something big...
The three of them walked down the deserted avenue as the last remnants of sunlight faded, replaced by the veil of night... and with it, the shadows stirred.
From rooftops, alleyways, and darkened corners, countless figures emerged. Their eyes gleamed with malice, their hostility pressing in like a suffocating tide.
Hulking werewolves clung to eaves and lampposts, their claws digging into wrought-iron lanterns. On the other side stood the vampire guards... pale aristocratic warriors clad in ornate armor, wielding an array of archaic weapons. In their hands, these outdated blades became deadly instruments, their speed and strength making up for the lack of modern firepower.
A sea of enemies surged forward, an endless tide of darkness descending upon the three lone figures standing in the middle of the street.
"Hey, buddy," Sean nudged the Ghost Rider, "You might wanna transform now, unless you want to get torn apart by werewolves."
Mordo needed no reminder. He already had a double-barreled shotgun in hand, courtesy of the Sanctum's armory. It was loaded with UV rounds and silver nitrate, more than enough to turn any vampire into dust. His other hand conjured a shimmering energy shield.
Beside them, Johnny let go of the restraints on the Spirit of Vengeance. Hellfire erupted from his body, his flesh burning away as his skull erupted in flames. The sheer sin permeating the city was intoxicating... the Ghost Rider threw his head back and roared.
"You two handle the Arc de Triomphe and the Biserica Bucur," Sean directed, "I'll head to the Palace of the Parliament."
His time at Kamar-Taj had taught him enough to recognize key nodes in the massive spellwork. The Palace was the heart of it all where Mephisto himself would be waiting.
The black tide crashed down...
Vampires lunged, only to be met with Mordo's shotgun. The explosive rounds tore through their ranks, bodies bursting into flames as silver nitrate ravaged their undead flesh. When the gun ran dry, the sorcerer whipped out a beast-headed staff, its enchanted strikes sending vampires flying.
But the horde was endless. Shadows converged from every direction, blades flashing like the sting of wasps.
A crimson chain lashed out like a striking serpent, flinging attackers aside. The Ghost Rider, now astride his hellish steed, revved the engine, tires screeched against the pavement as flames erupted beneath them.
"HAHAHAHA!" His laughter echoed through the night as he barreled toward the Arc de Triomphe, the chain in his grip reducing any werewolf foolish enough to charge into smoldering ash.
Sean, however, remained where he stood. He was blocked by a vampire elder... Amelia...
The elegant, noblewoman-like vampire licked her lips, her eyes burning with hunger. She had fed just hours ago... this craving was unnatural, even for one of her rank.
"Hungry?" Sean tilted his head in amusement.
Amelia swayed closer, her rapier tracing silver arcs in the air like blooming flowers.
"Be a good boy… don't resist. It'll hurt less that way…" Her voice was smooth and seductive.
Sean merely smirked, "Sorry, you're not really my type."
Behind her, more vampire guards gathered like a swarm of bats with bloodlust in their eyes, ready to tear him apart like piranhas.
The young man pressed a hand to his chest. The black sun emblem flared. Then, golden light erupted.
Amelia froze. Her pupils dilated in horror. She didn't even have time to scream.
A beam of raw, obliterating energy filled the street, vaporizing her and the entire swarm behind her in an instant. The shockwave reduced buildings to rubble. Dust and debris exploded outward in a deafening roar.
The remaining vampires skidded to a halt as they stared at the devastation... Then, like startled birds, they fled.
Sean glanced at the smoldering trench his attack had carved into the city, "I prefer them… demure."