[Two nights ago the Dracula Buffy knew was found with his head topping an iron spear. Someone also sent Spike a first-edition copy of Dracula and fifty pounds cash. The postmark led to San Francisco in the Embarcadero, and word on the street among the local non-nasty demons pointed out a new nightclub called the All-Nighter.]
[It's not bad. There's a coffee-shop level downstairs for people who need a break from the pounding music, or want an all night spot without paying a cover. Lots of dark wood, sturdy furniture, prices that are as far from ridiculous as San Francisco gets. Upstairs, past bouncers who are much more concerned with checking IDs than checking weapons, lies a huge dance club, centering around an underlit floor set over an aquarium with tiger sharks in it. The bar is at the far end, along with stairs to a railed mezzanine where most of the tables sit. A live DJ who actually knows what she is doing is spinning, and overlooking it all is the one vampire in the room.]
[D stands at the railing beside his usual table, surveying the crowd. He looks more like a modern Russian mobster than a vampire--an up to date black suit, leather gloves, a steel briefcase beside his chair. He is talking into a state of the art smartphone, one finger in his ear to block the music.]
No, you idiot, you are the one who does not understand. I am taking your city. There will be no more blood cults, no more indiscriminate reproduction. You can protest, and end up like that impostor, or you can submit and keep your head.
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[It's not bad. There's a coffee-shop level downstairs for people who need a break from the pounding music, or want an all night spot without paying a cover. Lots of dark wood, sturdy furniture, prices that are as far from ridiculous as San Francisco gets. Upstairs, past bouncers who are much more concerned with checking IDs than checking weapons, lies a huge dance club, centering around an underlit floor set over an aquarium with tiger sharks in it. The bar is at the far end, along with stairs to a railed mezzanine where most of the tables sit. A live DJ who actually knows what she is doing is spinning, and overlooking it all is the one vampire in the room.]
[D stands at the railing beside his usual table, surveying the crowd. He looks more like a modern Russian mobster than a vampire--an up to date black suit, leather gloves, a steel briefcase beside his chair. He is talking into a state of the art smartphone, one finger in his ear to block the music.]
No, you idiot, you are the one who does not understand. I am taking your city. There will be no more blood cults, no more indiscriminate reproduction. You can protest, and end up like that impostor, or you can submit and keep your head.