"Woah! Woah! Woah!" John intervenes, "it's nothing against you Guzzlers'. We just don't have the supply."

"Well," the cop explains taking half the cash, "if we could take a, let's say cut of the payment as I just have, me and some buddies can have enough blood by tomorrow. You'll still be making fifteen thousand dollars and you don't end up on the menu. What do you say pal?"

The cop extends his arm, expecting me to shake on it. I hesitate, for in his yellow, piercing stare I see malice, I have a feeling that his methods won't exactly be moral, but what choice do I have? I shake the cop's hand.

"Excellent," he smiles, "I'll have it ready at midnight tomorrow. Meet me in the alley behind this joint then."

The cop leaves. Fifteen thousand dollars. That's good money, but who's to say I'll be able to get out of this business when this is all over? The way things are headed, it's not looking good.

I consider calling my buddy Cain, a werewolf cop who would probably be able to get me out of this mess. However, doing so could spark a war between the two races, so I decide against it. They've been at peace for the last hundred years, who am I to ruin such a streak?

The rest of the evening goes smoothly, and me and John walk out with our profits. I decided to give John some, he really helped out and had good intentions when this all started.

"So whatcha gonna do with the dough?" John asks.

"At this rate," I reply, "retire ten years early. You?"

"Buy the missus something nice," John replies, "give the twins a twelfth birthday they'll never forget. Anyways, it's getting late, I should head on home. Need a ride?"

I take a deep breath of the crisp Fall air. It fills my lungs, I hold it there, savoring the refreshing cold, and exhale. "I think I'll walk," I reply, "could use the exercise anyways."

"Suit yourself man," John replies, "see ya."

John gets in his car and drives off. I start walking home. About two blocks away, I hear sirens blaring. That places them... Oh God.

No, he wouldn't, would he? I dash towards the source, and my suspicions are proven true. The Guzzlers are performing a heist.

"Oh, hey Barry!" A friendly voice greets.

I turn around to see Cain. His silver eyes looking apon me in a soft, friendly fashion. He wears a tan trench coat which is unbuttoned in such a way that looks fairly confident, giving him a certain, cool swagger. His brown hair looks black in the dim light of the half-full moon. Under the trench coat, he wears black jeans, and a grey shirt.

"It's good to see ya," he explains, "but you shouldn't be here. Guzzlers are raiding the place. The bastards sure give vampires a bad rep huh?"

"Yeah," I reply trying to hide my guilt, "sure do."

"You got a stake?" Cain asks.

"Not on me," I reply.

"Well," Cain replies, "it's looking kind of bad tonight. Calls all over town of Guzzler attacks. They seem to be preparing for something. Take one of mine."

Cain hands me a stake. "And be careful out there," he smiles, "you know how Guzzlers can be."

"Yeah," I reply, "thanks Cain." I continue to walk. I near my house and prepare to unlock the door, when I hear rustling in the fallen leaves. I turn around to see two Guzzlers standing before me...