There's entirely too little fics out there about the Bloodpack. This is my take on how they were assembled to combat the Blade threat.

The Bloodpack
Chapter 1: Miami

Miami, Florida
United States of America
Circa AD 2000

Chupa swore and gripped the steering wheel tighter; his knuckles were white, but he didn't care. The thrill of the race and the blood of a fresh young girl had set adrenaline loose in his blood. He glanced to his left, where the other car was racing neck-to-neck. There was a lot of money in the betting pool riding on his opponent, a big brute called — aptly enough — Brutus. Brutus also turned to look at him, and flipped him off, making sure the pureblood saw it.

Chupa snarled at the car window, while Brutus just grinned. They were nearing the finish line and were so close — he couldn't afford to lose this race. There was a lot of money riding on his loss, and Brutus had insulted him earlier. He gritted his teeth together as he pushed the car on, willing her to go faster than she already was. No-one insulted his family's Mexican heritage and got away with it.

They sped towards the finish. He could see the people now, mere blurs of color as the two cars passed them. He concentrated. If the car didn't give out on him before they got there, he stood a good chance of winning. And when he won, Brutus was going to be sorry he'd even —

"Fuck!" Chupa yelled as the whole car jerked to the right. His head cracked against the window and he swore again, this time in vampire dialect. The bastard had rammed his car! He worked fast to bring the car back to the road.

Okay, he was getting really pissed off now. As if that insult hadn't riled him enough already.

He glanced at his right. Brutus was grinning like an idiot, obviously quite pleased that he'd been able to catch the "damn Mexican" off his guard. Of course, he had ignored the fact that Chupa had been born and raised in Miami, and that his family wasn't even from Mexico. They were from Puerto Rico.

"Screw you, shit-kicker," Chupa growled. He hated to do this to the car, but his pride was wounded and that had to be corrected. He turned the steering wheel all the way to the left and he felt the car obey his instructions. He braced himself for the impact and he heard the satisfying crunch of the two car exteriors ramming into each other. Chupa grinned and it was his turn to flip Brutus off.

The crowd was more excited than a group of vampires with bloodlust. They were all trying to guess which car would finish first. And they have good reason to, Asad thought as he lingered at the back. Their money was riding on the red car. It also happened to be the car that Asad was watching like a hawk.

There was a deafening cheer as it, quite predictably, crossed the makeshift finish line first. Lots of bills exchanged almost as many hands, and girls swarmed the driver as he stepped out from the car. From somewhere near him, Asad heard a teen yell to his friend, "He always comes in first! Best in Miami, I tell you, best in town!"

Chupa was revelling in the attention and someone shoved their way to him, to pass him the prize money. Ten grand American, Asad had heard, probably more. The yellow car rolled to a stop in the other lane, and Chupa made a rude gesture at the driver. The other man just glowered at him.

Asad pushed his way through the crowd. "Chupa!" The pureblood vampire didn't hear him. "Chupa!" There were at least a dozen people yelling Chupa's name, so Asad changed track. "Chupa! I need to speak to you!" he yelled in a vampire dialect. He got the expected result. Chupa's head snapped up at that; most of the crowd were humans, so there was no way that any of them were the ones who'd spoken. Then he saw Asad, and disentangled himself from the swooning girls.

"Who are you?" the younger vampire demanded.

"I represent Overlord Eli Damaskinos," Asad explained. "I need to speak to you. In private."

Chupa nodded. He knew better than to question the authority of the one of the most ancient vampires. He led the way to a quiet corner in the shadow of a nearby building, just as the after-race party began in full swing. With Asad's black garb and Chupa's racing leathers, they became one with the shadows.

"I'm sure you know of the Daywalker," Asad started. Chupa growled in response. "Damaskinos is forming a team that will train to hunt and kill Blade. He wants someone from your House, and you're the only son." He produced a truce key from his pocket, a fairly large cylinder with vampire glyphs engraved in the metal. "Do you accept?"

"Gladly." Chupa almost snatched the truce key from Asad. He'd lost friends to the Daywalker.

Asad seemed pleased. Again he took out something from his pocket; this time, it was an envelope. "Everything you need is inside. Air tickets, contact details, everything." He handed it to the young warrior. "Be there." Chupa nodded and slipped both items into a pocket of his leathers. Asad nodded curtly and turned on his heel, leaving the race-winner in the shadows as he disappeared into the crowd.