The night was cold, seeming to make the stars stand out even more so against the blackness of the skies.  A full moon shone brightly, lighting up the area around as though someone had put a box and cut open just enough space to allow for a flashlight to shine through.  Aside from the muffled music playing from a roadside bar, it was quiet.  That is until the rumble of engines could be heard in the distance as a motorcycle gang crested over the hill and drove their bikes down.  The bar, with its lights being the only sign of life for miles around, wasn't missed by the bikers as they whooped and hollered upon catching sight.

The gravel of the small parking lot crunched under their wheels as the bikers pulled over, revving their engines to cause the bikes to roar almost deafeningly.  It made the small handful of bystanders inside lift their heads and look outside with a feeling of dread.  When it became obvious that the bikers planned to come inside, a couple stood up to take their leave, except the rowdy crew stopped them upon entering the small establishment.

"What's the rush?" One of the bikers asked them, catching the male by his shoulder and giving him a shove back into a nearby booth while his eyes were busy raking the woman with him. "The fun's only getting started..."  He gave a slow and menacing smile, not hiding the elongated canines that were normally hidden behind his lips.

The bartender slowly walked up to one of the gang that had come to the counter, glancing nervously at the woman being visually harassed, then back to the male at the counter.  He, like the others, all wore black leather vests with a variety of patches.  They identified as The Death Riders, or so the letters on the left side of his vest told the tender.  Licking her lips, she swallowed nervously, then offered as close to a friendly smile as she could muster though she was shaking where she stood.

"What can I get for you gentlemen?"

"Your blood..." came the unexpected and frightening response.  Suddenly, he grabbed the tender by the collar of her shirt and yanked her to him, his mouth dropping open and biting violently into her neck.  A scream erupted from the woman's co-worker and she attempted to run out the backway of the bar, only to be shot in the back by one of the other bikers standing by.

Raucous laughter among the terrified screams preceded the eruption of chaos.

Bullets went flying from guns as they played a lethal game of cat and mouse with the humans inside.  Lights flashed brilliantly before blanketing the interior in darkness as they were shot out by the ricocheting fire.  It was over within a matter of minutes, seven bodies shot up, the life gone from their eyes.  Windows shot out just for excessive show, deathrock began blaring out of the jukebox’s speakers and bled out into the street.  The gang chatted casually, some sitting at the bar drinking glasses of the blood of their victims.  Others were playing a round of pool at the lone table that they hadn’t destroyed.

Vampires such as The Death Riders were among a growing number that disregarded the rules set forth by the Covenant.  The supernatural world of Eshedale was meant to be secretive, having little to no interaction with humans.  Unfortunately, the Covenant took too long in their debates to handle the rabble-rousers.  Something the Archbishop, leader of the vampires, made sure of.  He had been there when the laws were written and he exploited the loopholes to keep the Covenant in a stalemate.

That was where she came in.

While the Death Riders defiled the bodies of their latest victims inside the bar, they failed to see the motorcyclist that observed them from across the way.  Red hair tossed softly in the breeze, a cigarette hung from her red painted lips, and dark vibrant green eyes narrowed at the sight.  She was dressed in black leather pants with a red tank top underneath a matching black leather jacket and black combat boots.  A thick cloud of smoke left through her parted lips as she revved her engine which drew some attention from within, not that it would have mattered.  Her slender fingers took to the air, moving nimbly as though she were speaking with sign language before removing the cigarette from her lips and blowing out the smoke.

"Hey, Darien!  We got a-" was all that one of the bikers got out in warning before the establishment erupted into a fiery inferno. A thick plume of smoke and glowing embers rose into the air and, while she knew it would only be a matter of moments before someone saw it, the redhead stayed. Watching.

The several years of terror that the Death Riders reigned ended within minutes.

And without the approval of the Covenant.

Not that she cared much, considering she ignored the presence of the Covenant unless she couldn't avoid them.  Chloe Lawarence was the Archbishop's bane, a proverbial thorn in his side.  She despised all of the bloodsuckers, her less than fond slang term for the lot of them.  Despite the unfortunate irony of being one herself.

She slid her tongue across her pearly whites, passing over a pair of discreet canines that gave away what she was other than the deathly pale skin, and took the final drag of her cigarette before tossing it.  A gentle revving of her engine sounded then she was driving off as sirens sounded in the distance.