Rigor Mortis

She Awoke cuffed to a heavy metal table across from an elderly Scottish man with kind eyes and a wry smile. He offered two things: a glass of synthetic blood, and an opportunity. Come work for the Brotherhood. Use the powers she'd been cursed with to save others from monsters like the vampires who'd turned her. She liked the sound of that. It's been an uphill battle. She hears the things they call her behind her back. Drac. Vlad. Blood-Chugger. Rigor Mortis.

She likes that one. Maybe she'll keep it.