I remember it. The promise I have to follow through on. To find her and be the man I strive to be. The dream reminds me of that fact. I won’t forget that.

I wake up, not to an alarm, but to the harsh melodramatic yellings from my crewmates. 

“Captain Starling, for the love of God — Please wake up!” My Third Officer Vice shouts. 

I've known Vice for years, since before I became captain. He’s a bit rough around the edges and struggles with taking care of himself — but I know he means well and wants what’s best for us.  

I hear others mumbling outside my room — something about an attack. I’m hungry, tired, and most importantly, thirsty. 

I let my comrades know that I’m wide awake and will proceed with my business on the other side of the door. The unsatisfied yammerings continue as I take the opportunity to shower, making myself nice and clean before I dress up nicely. The panicked voices continue as I fit myself into my usual captain’s attire, ignoring their pleas to rush my routine. 

And how can I forget to apply the mousse for my beautiful curls? One of the few positive things I can say about myself. I tune out the voices as I think about the compliments my last love offered me. The mirror is effectively useless to me either way.

On cue, Vice slams the door open to bring me into reality. “Come on, Starling! Cal isn’t gonna handle everything on his own.” 

“Mm, I would’ve preferred if you knocked,” I dryly respond as I finish my hair. 

“The Fleur Noir are surrounding us. There isn’t time for your customary morning,” Vice speaks as if that’ll stop me.

“The Frenchmen can wait. I need my breakfast,” I mumble under my breath as I eagerly stroll to the cafeteria. 

My crewmates follow with me, some rushing the cook to make my food already. 

I spot a familiar face and wave at her. “Old lady!” 

Sitting at a nearby table, she shifts through her wrinkles, almost offended by my comment. “Mr. Starling, you gotta pay more attention to names. It’s Ada, not ‘old lady’.” 

I sheepishly laugh before being notified of my yummy breakfast from the other side. I thank the one man handling the cafeteria.

There it is… stacks of French toast waffles, sprinkled with the right amount of sugar and cinnamon, with whipped cream. My favorite brand of mint chocolate chip ice cream lies in a bowl. And my drink of choice is some appy juice… I grin slightly, staring at my breakfast before Vice drags me and my meal to the cafeteria table with the old lady. 

“You can stare while eating, captain,” The Third Officer asserts before walking to the side, presumably explaining my situation in the communications.

“How has your sleep been, Mr. Starling?” The old lady initiates a light conversation with me. 

I could not focus, devouring my feast with no interruption. Before I can move on to the conversation, my senses go wild. The world suddenly slows down before me as I look over at the large windows. I now notice the many larger airships surrounding us. They look like they’re equipped to take on a war with a smaller nation — this must be those Frenchmen my comrades were worried about. 

A giant ballista flies towards my table, going super slowly. I’d say if I weren’t sitting here, that old lady wouldn’t live to see Jeremy Jr.’s birthday in 3 days. I don’t have my blood yet, but I’ll make do with my current conditions. I immediately get out my table, cleaning myself off before shifting into my ballista-catching stance.

I spring into action, tackling the massive ammunition through the window, feeling the breeze of the world. I sharpen my focus on the airship that fired this thing at my friends. Still flying through the momentum, I hurl the ballista at the annoying aircraft before I land onto the same airship. Crashing through their windows, I watch many of these Frenchmen panic, pulling their guns on me.

“So it’s true! The Red Reavers do have a black vampire working for them!” One of them blurts out.

“Hey, can you guys keep it down? I haven’t drunk yet, and if I don’t have my fill, then I’m gonna go start draining everyone in this room. Please?” I hold out my hand to show that I’m not interested in fighting. 

They all scramble away as I start to notice that the ground beneath me is shaking. 

“Oh, right…” I zip off back to my ship, observing the crashing airship from the other side. Oh… I hope they don’t have anyone innocent in those.

My crewmates notice my presence, and before I can dwell further, they push me through the halls.

After being pulled by a couple of hands, I’m suddenly in the commander's room. Upon stepping in, I see Cal — my Second-In-Command. He pulls his hair in frustration. I always see him with that skull makeup and that mean look he gives me. Did I upset him? I’m sorry if I accidentally ate his Chinese takeout.  Whatever it was, there was a time when we were somewhat on better terms.

“You seem troubled with handling the Red Reavers,” I say to my ally. 

Cal pulls his head to look at me, gritting his teeth as if I said the wrong thing. 

He lets out a sigh. “Oh, well, it’s not like The Fleur Noir are on our ass.” 

He laughs to himself for some reason. I guess they had a silly name.

“Anyways, Star… I’m a little busy here… So maybe you should handle some other pressing matters.” Cal shrugs.

I notice something banging at the window nearby — ah, it’s my bat familiar. I open the window to let it reach my arm. I look at the red translucent magical being, feeling the weight of bird blood filling this boy. Before I ask anyone, one of my crewmates offers me their straw. 

“Thank you, Brad.”

“Brian.”

 I stab my familiar with the straw and slurp up the juices.

I feel an immense energy flowing through my body, revitalizing my will, suppressing the urge to pop someone's head open for some yummy blood. It’s no human blood, but animal blood is the next best thing for me. I drink my familiar dry like a juice pouch as Cal stares at me like I’ve been interrupting his speeches. 

I stop, pulling the straw out of my bird hunter to let it fly out of the window to continue doing its job.

“All done. What did I have to do now?” I ask the crew.

Vice kicks the door.

“WHERE IS CAPTAIN— oh, he’s here.”

“Yeah?” I ask, starting to remember that I have something important to do. 

“No time, we need you to—” Vice tries to tell me something, but he gets interrupted.

A live broadcast transmission on our large screen — showing the face of a silver-haired man in a black uniform, with a well-groomed beard. And he's got a cute, captainly hat, too! 

“Attention, Red Reavers—” The cool-hatted man tries to speak.

“It's Los Segadores Rojos, you uncultured swine,” Cal blurts out in frustration. 

“To be fair to the guy with the neat captain hat, I didn't even know that,” I say.

“QUIET YOU TWO! We Fleur Noirs won't take this transgression!” The captainly-looking man speaks out in equal frustration to my friend. 

He continues, “Ahem — allow me to proceed. I am Captain L’Arc of the Fluer Noir. We are tasked with taking in the vampire from the Red Reavers.”

That catches my attention, glancing from Cal’s teeth grinding to the sighing of Vice. 

I raise one finger. “So… if you take me in, will you tell me the tailor for your hat?” 

“No.” 

“Then, it's settled!” I close my hands together. 

I walk towards the window. “Alrighty, Captain Frenchman. It's nice seeing you, but I'm gonna wipe out your forces if you don't back away.” 

“Excuse me!?” The Frenchman questions in an almost offended tone. 

“Hey, I recommend evacuating the women and the children first,” I mumble under my breath, hoping that anyone hears what I'm saying.

I climb outside from the window. 

With one motion, I'm on top of the Red Reavers' ship as I take in the fresh air. Feeling the windy breeze, I stare down at the forces around me. As predicted, they fire many of their ballistas at my crew.

My senses kick in once more, and I tackle the ballistas one by one, before firing them back at the other ships with my bare hands. Like a game of pool, the balls collide before scattering into many holes. Smoke surrounds me as I make quick work of every single aircraft, using a combination of redirecting their ammunition and punching holes into their cardboard-like outer shells. 

I return to the top of my ship, watching the carnage caused by my actions. A fireworks display of some kind, although I was never a fan of them in the first place. You look at the skies to see lights burst, but the most interesting imagery you get out of them is a capitalistic mouse. 

I sure hope they heard what I said earlier — it wouldn't do well with my conscience if I killed anyone who didn't want any part of this. Well, this leaves the sole airship, presumably belonging to that Captain.

The thing is… The sun is directly behind this ship. It doesn’t hurt being in the ray, it’s just that… It’s so bright when I look in its direction. Most artificial light sources don’t bother my eyes, but somehow, ever since I turned into one of those things… The world became a bit too bright for me. 

Squinting, I take my shot and zoom over towards the center of the ship. Crashing through, I take the moment to halt my momentum before I could seriously hurt anyone, grinding my feet onto the steel floor.

The glass shatters around me, leaving some poor folks bleeding behind me from the glass as I glance over. I hunch over with my iconic captain’s cloak flowing from the wind, making its way through the massive window. This is the part where I make my final warnings.

What I see is a bunch of Frenchmen clambering their fingers on their computers as the Captain chokes around a young lad. Ouch. 

“Uh, hello?” I try to take the people’s attention as I maintain my stance. 

The captain of this airship drops the poor fellow before unsheathing his sword. 

“We’re not done here, vampire! I know what’ll hurt you. Silver!” The French Captain shouts with confidence.

The man immediately jabs his weapon at me — I catch it with my forearm. 

The sword remains stuck in my body. The blood drips from my wound. 

“Werewolves… That’s what silver is good for,” I try to educate this man. 

I use my other hand to pull the blade with ease. 

I shatter the metal right after, before locking my eyes on Captain, who is sweating bullets despite his bitter stare. 

I hear something moving below deck. Heavy footsteps. Probably just the panicked crew evacuating below.

“Hey, old man. Turn this ship around or—”

A woman bursts through the back door, holding a hostage on one hand and a gun on the other. This lady’s face is covered in stitches with heavy wrappings around her left arm, the one holding the hostage. Bandages like that look like they should’ve been removed some time ago, but whatever, maybe she’d fall apart if someone pulled them out. Her hair is so frizzy… Has she never heard of using conditioners?

“Meet my demands and — GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT! No! No! No!” The woman bashes the gun onto her hostage’s head in frustration. 

Clearly, things aren’t going her way. Whatever it was…

 “You need a moment?” I ask.

“I — shut the hell up! I’m thinking,” the stitched-up lady frustratingly attempts to assert.

The Captain of this ship comments, “Gee, what great company we’ve got.” The cool-hatted man takes the chance to light a cigar. “Been saving this for when things blow up.” 

Huh… I’m curious about what that strange woman is gonna do now. I swear I was going to do something here, but then she shows up, and I suddenly forget what that was. Oh right!

“Hey, I was going to warn—” I say something before being interrupted. 

“Hand me information on Dr. West—” the strange woman interrupts me with her demands before we all feel the ground shaking.

Dr. West… That’s a name that catches my attention.

The floor below me bursts open before I’m dragged deeper. I feel my body pulling into the under deck, sinking deeper and deeper.

I catch a glimpse of something sturdy, brown, and furry. Its arms are lanky and — Oh… A werewolf.