Lance DeMoi and the Revenge of Noctheim

Lance ran, like he had never ran before, blood spilling onto the rocks from his many wounds as he flew down the mountain.  A horde of vampires came pouring out of the caves up the mountain; all of them contorted with their hunger for blood.  Harley, one leg broken and covered in blood, limped as best he could after Lance, the horde quickly drawing closer to him.  Lance turned and ran back up the rocky slope to Harley.

"Come on!"  Lance yelled, bending over to support Harley as they both stumbled down the mountain.  Suddenly, in a black flash, a very tall, slim, vampire with the usual chalk-white skin and wearing black armor and an onyx crown appeared in front of them.  He drew a dark iron sword from it's sheath on his black, bejewled belt.  Harley, face set, stumbled forward and drew his 9mm; firing off the last of his ash-wood bullets.  Dracula deflected one with his cold sword, dodged several others, then in a single stride closed the distance between himself and Harley.  The cold, black iron sank into his warm flesh and burst out his back, staining his jacket red.  He fell on the rocks, glazed eyes pointed yet not seeing the clouded sky.  Lance choked and fell to his knees; Harley was dead and Lance had only himself to blame.  Dracula and his army of vampires surrounded the lone Lance DeMoi.  Dracula pointed his black sword at Lance's dirty and blood-smeared throat, and chuckled.

"Well look who we have hear: the mighty Lance DeMoi on his knees and at my mercy!"

Dracula smashed Lance in the head with the pommel of his sword, savoring the smell of lance's warm, living, blood.  Crimson blots ran down Lance's neck as he fell on the rocks and dirt; he coughed up blood into the dust.  Something fell of his belt and tinkled against the stones; of course how could he have forgotten!  Snatching the bottle of pure daylight, Lance jumped to his feet, Dracula snarled and lunged with his sword.  Lance threw himself to the side, whipped out his revolver, threw the crystal vial on the ground and shot it.  Pure, raw, daylight exploded over the mountainside.  The nearest vampires were incinerated on the spot, others farther back burst into flame, Dracula shrieked and fell backwards, his sword clattered against the stones.  Lance jammed his eyes shut and ran to the cliff's edge, where he peeked and saw a lake far below, a deep one by the looks of it; and he dove of the mountain into the cold mountain pool below.