a worse attack than the sabbat

Alois Lowe skulked about the elegant, well-furnished halls of his penthouse. The stress had been mounting, and such things were beginning to take their toll. He was reduced to pacing, running scenario after scenario through his mind. How embarrassing, to be this obsessed and distracted, but such was the reality of his existence these days.

As he approached the rarely-used, tiny kitchen, he saw his faithful ghoul and secretary, Amy, staring at the cabinets in fear.

"Amy? What's wrong?" he asked, his body starting to tense. There had better not be anything hiding within those cabinets. If his ghoul were injured on top of everything else, his safe space violated by vicious outsiders, there would be hell to pay. The girl looked on with wide eyes as the cabinet doors trembled, shaking to bursting.

She shrieked as the doors finally burst open. Alois's fangs flashed, but there were no living or dead bodies to attack. Box after brown box fell from the cabinets, some of them bursting and scattering small pellets across the floor. They scattered amidst the two's feet, but when the dust cleared, there was no violence. There was only the smell of chocolate.

Augustus walked over to the mess and sniffed at it. He meowed curiously and he batted some of the pellets about. Alois picked up a box, his hands shaking as he read the front of it.

"Count... Chocula..." he said, his voice bristling with rage. What a mockery this was of their proud kind. Yes, it was beneficial to them that humans considered their kind to be myths, even pushed into the realms of comedy, but to be confronted with such an insult in his own home? This could only be the work of one man. The one that had come to his past halloween parties dressed as various shitty vampires, year after year after year.

Luka was going to pay.