A week or two later, back on the town.

“I’m not saying Clerks II is inherently bad!” the first man says, a brutish, wide creature with a day of unshaven stubble. You watch him and his partner from the walls of the alley they walk down, crawling horizontally on all fours to follow them. You’ve put off hunting a bit too long. Stalking them somewhere quiet and out-of-the-way is taking an irritating amount of time as far as your quaking stomach is concerned. The partner is lankier, with a full beard and a knit cap, still only about the first man’s height. You mull over which to attack first, deciding on the second man. He probably can run faster. Besides, he’ll be easier to move back.

“But you, in the modern era, right now, still prefer a black-and-white movie?” The things you smell on them are vile: extortion, financial and … otherwise, ****, cover-ups, frame jobs. They’re prolific low-life thugs, you have to admit. You could sense them a full block away before you even laid eyes … well, whatever these things you see out of now are … on them. “Man, get with the times! It’s the golden age of media, why not treat your senses?”

“Clerks has better humor. It’s more grotesque, but also more subtle,” his partner argues back. “The visuals conjured are more ridiculous, but the ones shown are more restrained. And the writing’s sharper. I tell you, nothing dulls a fresh, new creator like success!”

“You can’t expect media of any quality to be produced if you’re not willing to let people who make it collect a reward.” Jesus Christ, how much longer were they going to talk about movies? You scan the alley as you follow them around the bend, surveying the angles … this is a good place. No direct avenues of escape. Enough distance you can catch one running even if they get a head start. And plenty of things to muffle the noise.

“I’m not saying we don’t pay directors what they’re worth.” You speed up the scuttling alongside the wall, hovering just ahead and over them. You wait for them to pass under you, counting as you bare your teeth in a hungry, menacing grin, and your muscles coil in anticipation for launch. “People get rich, though, and suddenly you’ve got George Lucas with no one to tell him ‘no.’ Do you want more Star Wars prequels? Because people need some level of restraint. If they do whatever they wa-”

You freeze as he stops speaking, specifically because you hear what he does. It takes his partner another second to process it, nudging his friend and prompting him to speak. He doesn’t, of course, because he’s already looking up at you, bright, yellow lights in your sockets burning into his mind while he catches a glint of your teeth in the moonlight. Your previously-predatory smile falters into an embarrassed one. As the second thug finally looks up, eyes widening and standing stock-still, like that’s going to save him, you lift one arm and shrug apologetically.

“Sorry, not used to having a phone again,” you offer as the text alert chimes again to remind you to check it. “Clerks is better, though. Just, if we’re talking about it.” Both of them fumble inside their coats as you spring towards them, awkwardness temporarily alleviated by the heightened rush of adrenaline and endorphins in anticipation of the kill.

It’s hardly two minutes before you’re taking a careful moment to lick the blood off your right hand, wiping it off one of the corpse’s jacket to be sure. Sliding your phone open, the break in your good mood a few moments ago seems less critical as you read Alex’s message.

Alex: Hey, babe!

Alex: I … may have found an actual date. That we can go on.

Alex: WITHOUT making you uncomfortable.

Alex: Interested?

You: At least as interested as I am confused.

While you wait for her response, you take a moment to start properly butchering the two dead men, collecting what you feel will freeze best, stowing it away, and starting to eat in peace while you still have it.

Alex: Have you ever heard of Dans le Noir??

Alex: Two question marks, because its name has a question mark.

Alex: I assume for bonus pretension.

You: Is that the vampire roleplaying game?

You: If you don’t correct me, I’m assuming it’s the vampire roleplaying game.

Alex: No, jackass.

Alex: It’s a fancy, French restaurant.

You flip through one of the thug’s wallet, considering that you’ll probably want to clean the bills before you use them.

You: I can swing that.

You: But why would going there still be fine?