ENTER: A penthouse atop a skyscraper. Below, the cityscape spreads out in all directions, a twinkling wonderland of life and motion. PULL BACK to reveal THE DOCTOR, a short, hairless vampire noble, hands clasped behind his back. He is a neat little man wearing a neat little suit.
THE DOCTOR: We are doing good work here.
He turns. A small group of vampire nobles - no more than ten to fifteen - are assembled before him. Each of them are dressed immaculately, and each holds a glass of human blood, periodically topped up by a handful of subservient, impassive thralls.
THE DOCTOR: I am aware that there are certain traditionalists who disapprove of my methods, but I am here to tell you that those traditionalists are wrong. My results speak for themselves. There is no point in clinging slavishly to millennia-old blood rituals if they yield but meager results.
He gestures to one of his thralls, who retreats into a hidden room and re-emerges pushing a baby carriage. As it creaks forward, a wrinkled infant with glowing red eyes emerges, its tiny, pale hands clutching the sides of the carriage as its fanged, twisted face swivels from side to side. The vampire nobles murmur among themselves.
THE DOCTOR: May I introduce Lord Georg Ruthven.
LORD RUTHVEN speaks in a comically high-pitched voice. His jaw has not yet developed enough for him to enunciate all of his words properly. But no one is laughing.
LORD RUTHVEN: Heren en mevrouwen.
THE DOCTOR: Lord Ruthven was on a visit from his fiefdom of Tilburg when he was attacked by a hunter and cruelly set aflame. However, rumors of his true death have been greatly exaggerated.
LORD RUTHVEN, in atrocious English: Hunter escaped. But did not survive the week.
THE DOCTOR: I was brought on by Lord Ruthven's retainers to save his unlife. I will not bore you with the details, but his mind was preserved and a new body made for him.
More murmurs. A vampire noble named DESMOND speaks up.
DESMOND: I've heard of vampires being preserved, but how did Lord Ruthven survive being placed in the body of a newborn infant? Forgive my lapse, but wouldn't its soul -
THE DOCTOR: Ah, but the body had no soul. That is the innovation.
THE DOCTOR turns abruptly and proceeds down a corridor. Unthinkingly, the vampire nobles follow after him. His guests are unable to see his face since his back is turned; but THE DOCTOR is smiling.
THE DOCTOR: I accomplished this through a variety of innovative and complex blood rituals. I am sure that you understand why I shall not delve into the specifics at present, but I must nevertheless admit that I was only able to preserve Lord Ruthven's life thanks to this fine specimen that you see before you.
The party pauses before a blank wall. THE DOCTOR places his slim, manicured hands upon a barely-perceptible dial and turns it, revealing that the blank wall is actually a one-way mirror. The vampire nobles mutter among themselves as a woman is revealed.
THE DOCTOR: This is Meredith. She is a dampyr. Very exotic, I know, and almost mythical in reputation - but believe me when I say that dampyrs do exist. Thanks to her unique biological configuration, I have been able to create vampiric neonates. Mindless husks waiting to be filled. I call them VNs.
MEREDITH stirs, as though conscious that she is being watched, and sits up. Her brown hair hangs limply about her puffy face as she gets out of bed and begins to walk around the room, hands pressed to the small of her back as she arches her spine, stretching. She is wearing a simple hospital gown that is a smidge too small for her gravid frame.
THE DOCTOR: She's very docile. I've had her for almost two decades. Any rebellious impulse she might once have had, well. They've been long-buried.
As the nobles watch, MEREDITH returns to her bed and buries herself beneath the blankets. THE DOCTOR leads them on down the corridor, still talking.
THE DOCTOR: I've conducted a great deal of research into the nature of the dampyr condition over the years, and made a major breakthrough half a decade hence. Through my proprietary blood rituals, I was able to induce parthenogenesis in Meredith's womb and in so doing create a VN from virtually nothing. Further experimentation enabled her to whelp more often - from one once every nine months to three or four once a quarter.
His hands flatten against an invisible switch, revealing a sterile room filled with squirming toddlers and infants. A thrall is sitting, eyes blank, in the corner. Her tunic has been opened to expose her chest, which is a ragged ruin; her breasts have been torn open by dozens of grasping claws. She is not going to survive the night.
THE DOCTOR: They're little more than animals, of course. Driven by nothing more than their desire for blood. Which is why they offer no resistance to their new occupants. I sometimes have my most trusted lieutenants take them out for walks.
DESMOND speaks up.
DESMOND: Then why didn't Lord Ruthven take an older VN? Some of them are even walking.
LORD RUTHVEN: I speak for myself.
LORD RUTHVEN's carriage squeaks forward.
LORD RUTHVEN: I had prior partnership with Doctor. Gave him sample of blood. When incident happened, Doctor created new body for me with my blood.
THE DOCTOR: Indeed. Lord Ruthven did not want a body wholly spawned from Meredith's mongrel stock, so I fashioned an alternative solution for him. He has commenced a strict regimen of ritual - about three to four hundred mortals a month - that will restore him to his adult form within the year.
DESMOND, skeptically: And you have done this before?
THE DOCTOR: I have. But the procedure can be improved upon, and that is where you, my friends, come in.
THE DOCTOR turns to face the nobles before him.
THE DOCTOR: To improve these procedures, I need more mortals. My prior arrangements with Lord Ruthven and other innovative vampires such as he - well, they've been rewarding, certainly, and I do still treasure their patronage. But if I am going to scale up, and break new boundaries in my research, I need more mortals. At least two to three thousand a month. This is a princely figure, but if spread out -
DESMOND: I don't see it. This is just a very expensive insurance policy.
THE DOCTOR: I make no promises, but have been looking into modifying -
DESMOND: Oh, for -
He turns around.
DESMOND: Do any of you actually believe any of this?
He is met with silence. DESMOND narrows his eyes, shaking his head, and takes a step back, implicitly ceding the floor to THE DOCTOR. He knows when he's beaten.
THE DOCTOR: Thank you. Now, if you'll permit me to continue...