You walk out of the front of your block of flats, and start walking down the street. In Streatham, there are always people milling around, no matter what the time, and tonight is no exception. You start wandering down the busy main road, looking around at all of the attractive young clubbers moving between bars and clubs, looking for a good time. Your hunger eats at you, and you find yourself fighting the urge to drain the young women who pass by you in tiny skirts and flimsy tops: you doubt that people would sit idly by and watch you suck the blood out of a living being in public. You find yourself rapidly accepting your new affliction, and hope desperately for some respite from the overwhelming desire to satiate your hunger.
You know you must feed soon, before the hunger overtakes you and you attack a passer-by. You start making plans as to where you may be able to get someone on their own for long enough to feed. A nightclub may be a good idea, as there are plenty of dark corners to take your victim. In fact, Caesar's nightclub is just a few hundred yards from your flat. Alternatively, there are plenty of prostitutes throughout this sprawling metropolis, and Soho is just a train ride away.
Just as you are considering your options, you spot an open first floor window down a side street, above a video shop. A strange sixth sense tells you what is behind that window: a lone woman, asleep. You stare at it for a second. A handy drainpipe paves the way in, and the side street is empty. It wouldn't take too much effort to slip into the window unnoticed. |