Count Vladimyr Nosferatu IV had dreamed of a dramatic arrival: stormy skies, terrified villagers, and maybe a thunderclap or two. What he got instead was a stubbed toe, a powdered donut ambush, and a raccoon named Sir Biscuits.
It was 3:17 AM when the Royal Blood Shuttle landed quietly behind a 24-hour donut shop in the unremarkable town of Curdleton. The ship—shaped like a gothic flying bat-mobile—was designed to be stealthy. Unfortunately, "stealth" did not include landing in a pile of aluminum trash cans.
CRASH.
Sir Biscuits screamed and threw half a jelly donut at the shuttle.
Vlad emerged in full vampire regalia, velvet cape swirling, fangs gleaming, and powdered sugar smeared across his cheeks.
"WHO DARES—ACHOO—DEFY ME?!"
"Dude, chill," said Larry, the donut shop owner, holding a tray of glazed as a defensive weapon. "You allergic or something?"
"I am COUNT VLADIMYR NOSFERATU!" he boomed.
"And I'm Larry. You want coffee or...?"
Vlad growled. This was not how world domination was supposed to begin.
Just then, a tow truck pulled into the alley.
"Hey! You can't park here," yelled the driver, Steve, chewing gum like it owed him money. "That's a no-hover zone."
"This is not parking, it is... invading!"
"Yeah? Invade a meter next time." Steve slapped a fluorescent orange violation on the ship's fang.
Vlad stared at it like it was a nuclear bomb. "What is this?"
"A ticket. Seventy-five bucks."
"I have not used currency since people wore powdered wigs!"
Steve nodded. "You're gonna have a rough time, pal."
At that very moment, the alley air shifted. A low hum filled the space. Then came the fog—thick, green, and suspiciously scented like cabbage and broken dreams.
Vlad turned slowly. "No. Please, no."
A hiss.
A puff.
A sparkly swirl of crimson fabric.
And from the mist emerged a tall, flamboyant vampire twirling like a ballerina with gastrointestinal problems.
"DAAARLINGS! I have ARRIVED!"
Larry dropped his tray.
The raccoon passed out.
Steve gagged audibly. "What the heck is that smell?!" he coughed.
Count Flatula struck a pose, his cape glittering with sequined bats. "That, dear mortals, is the scent of glory, mystery, and a regrettable fondue incident before departure."
"Flatula," Vlad groaned. "I told you to stay on the ship."
"And miss the Earth's grand debut of me? Puh-lease!"
As he twirled again, releasing another foggy plume, a seagull fell from the sky.
Larry, face buried in a napkin, whispered, "He's like a haunted burrito."
Steve wrote another ticket, muttering, "Now that's air pollution."
Commander Gorlax's voice crackled through Vlad's comm-crystal.
"Your Excellency, backup team approaching. ETA: three minutes."
"Good," Vlad hissed. "Because this town is already attacking my dignity."
"You brought Flatula, didn't you?"
Vlad sighed. "He brought himself."
---
Meanwhile, at Curdleton Town Hall
Mayor Petunia Fizzlebottom was not having a good night.
"I don't care what you saw," she told Councilman Greg. "There is no such thing as evil fog."
Greg adjusted his "I Survived the Cheese Festival" cap. "It smelled sentient, Petunia. And it burped."
Daphne the councilwoman raised her smoothie. "My dog won't stop howling and my cat packed a bag."
Mayor Petunia rubbed her temples. "We're overreacting. Fog does not come with glitter and capes."
A clerk burst in. "Someone parked a giant bat-shaped jet in the donut alley. Also... there's a man in leather pants who keeps saying 'embrace your gaseous destiny.'"
Greg turned slowly. "I told you. Evil fog."
---
Back in the Alley
The shuttle's bay doors opened as six vampires descended like a boy band from the underworld—matching black jumpsuits, intimidating glares, and one guy filming on TikTok.
Commander Gorlax touched down first. "Lord Vlad, Earthfall successful. Team reports zero resistance."
"Except for powdered donuts and Steve," Vlad muttered, pointing at the tow truck, which now had a boot on its front wheel.
"Who's the... glitter bomb?" Gorlax asked, nodding at Flatula, who was currently breakdancing while misting the air with rose-scented cologne labeled "Essence of Afterlife."
"That is Count Flatula," Vlad muttered darkly. "A curse upon both mortal and immortal alike."
"I can hear you, darling," Flatula chirped. "Also, I brought karaoke mics!"
Sir Biscuits slowly woke up, sniffed the air, and fainted again.
Vlad turned to address the team. "Tonight, we establish the first vampire foothold on Earth. We will do so with stealth, with cunning, and—"
PFFFFFFFTTTT
Flatula cut through the speech with what could only be described as a sonic raspberry.
Vlad paused.
"—and with... whatever that is."
Gorlax whispered, "Should we invade somewhere else?"
Larry finally broke the silence. "If you guys are taking over, can I get Fridays off and dental?"
Vlad blinked. "What is 'dental'?"
Steve chimed in. "You'll find out. Welcome to Earth, Fang-boy."