The Hive

 It was a cold night in Bangalore, though the chill had little effect on the flat nestled between the crowded, narrow streets. Apartment 13, a seemingly ordinary flat with peeling walls and a broken doorbell, was home to something far from ordinary: seven vampires, all well over a thousand years old. This wasn’t your typical vampire lair; there were no gothic castles, no dark, candlelit chambers. Just a modern flat with a steep staircase leading to an upper floor that contained all their secrets.

In the dimly lit living room, piles of empty Red Bull cans and blood-stained packets from the black market cluttered the floor. The smell of weed lingered thick in the air. It was morning, the time when they slept—or tried to. But for Lucian, the leader of the Hive, sleep never came easy. Not after centuries of wandering, feeding, and…well, existing. He slouched on a worn couch, his face shrouded in smoke from the joint hanging lazily from his lips.

“Lucian, why do you always smoke this junk? You’re already dead. What pain could you possibly feel?” said Mira, the youngest of the vampires, though she was still 700 years old. She paced restlessly, her sharp senses heightened by the weed they had smoked just hours before.

Lucian blew out a cloud of smoke, his eyes barely opening. “The pain of living too long, little one. The pain of watching the world burn and rebuild, over and over. Trust me, it gets old.” His voice was deep, raspy, like someone who had seen the rise and fall of civilizations.

The others, Drake, Kassia, Sebastian, Leora, and Nikolai, were sprawled around the flat in various states of relaxation or boredom. Most of them were ancient, each with their own tales from different eras—stories of war, love, betrayal, and survival. But despite their long histories, their days were now filled with nothing more than blood supplements, Red Bull, Jägermeister, and high-grade marijuana from the finest dealers in Bangalore.

This Hive wasn’t like the vampire covens of old, who hunted humans with reckless abandon. They had evolved. Instead of killing for blood, they bought it. The black market of Bangalore provided them with anything from human blood to exotic animal strains—lion, zebra, and even Komodo dragon. They’d seen it all, tasted it all. Now, they just bought their blood packets like any other consumer product, each labeled and ready to drink.

Mira picked up a packet labeled O Negative - French National, tearing it open and taking a sip, savoring the flavor. “Ah, nothing beats imported blood,” she muttered, wiping her mouth.

Nikolai, ever the quiet observer, glanced up from his book of human poetry. “You know, the problem with this age is…everything has become so easy. No more stalking our prey, no more thrill in the hunt.”

Drake, a vampire with long, messy hair, chuckled from the kitchen where he was mixing blood with Jägermeister. “Ease is the reward for living over a thousand years, my friend. We’ve earned it.”

They all chuckled, knowing he was right. They were ancient, powerful, and most of all, survivors. They had formed their tight-knit group centuries ago, each of them handpicked after proving their worth through shared battles and bloodshed. Their friendship was stronger than any they’d known with humans or even other vampires.

As night fell, the city of Bangalore came alive. It was their time. Lucian rose from his couch, shaking off the lethargy from the day. “Time to hunt,” he said, though hunt was hardly the right word anymore. They didn’t need to stalk alleys or lurk in shadows. The Hive simply needed to walk the streets, blending into the bustling nightlife of Bangalore, collecting their supplies—weed, blood, and the occasional human interaction that reminded them of their former selves.

As they prepared to leave, Lucian’s mind drifted back to the two humans he once lived with. Businessmen now, they had left years ago, but they were the last humans he ever grew close to. Over time, he had come to understand that forming connections with mortals was a fleeting pleasure. They died, and the pain of loss only added to the unbearable weight of time.

On the steep staircase leading to Lucian’s private lair, Kassia lingered, her eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. “We were different once, weren’t we?”

Lucian paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. “Different? Maybe. Or maybe we just fooled ourselves into thinking we had more purpose.”

Kassia smiled, her fangs glinting in the dim light. “Purpose or not, at least we have each other.” And with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Lucian alone with his thoughts, as he always seemed to be.

As the Hive ventured out into the streets, the hum of the city surrounded them, neon lights casting strange shadows across their pale faces. They were ancient beings in a modern world, navigating a life that no longer thrilled them as it once had, yet they clung to their existence, to their Hive. Despite their centuries-old stories, each night in Bangalore brought new chaos, new absurdities, and a reason—however fleeting—to carry on.

But as the months passed, something shifted in the city, an undercurrent that not even these ancient vampires could ignore. And soon, their endless nights would face a reckoning far more dangerous than boredom or addiction. The Hive was about to face something that might finally end their millennia-long reign—and they would have to decide whether to fight for their continued existence or let the long, weary march of time take them once and for all.