Brooklyn's abandoned factory district. For a long time, it had been a place for gangsters and drug lords to fight and conduct deals.
No police officers would meddle by entering to patrol the area. It was tacitly assumed that no taxpayers existed here. Since there was no one to protect, patrolling was unnecessary. It was a lawless no-man's-land.
But today was a little different, because the 911 emergency dispatch center had received a report. The caller claimed to have heard unidentified shouting in the area, as though someone were crying for help. So the dispatch center sent a patrol car over to investigate.
With its siren blaring, the police car arrived at the reported location. The surroundings were completely deserted. Only a few broken streetlights, long overdue for repairs, flickered on and off, leaving the whole place as dark and oppressive as ever.
The two uniformed patrol officers got out of the car. Without speaking, both drew their guns. They held their pistols in one hand and flashlights in the other, sweeping their beams around.
"Is anyone there?" one of the white patrol officers shouted.
The area remained deathly quiet. No one answered, and there were certainly none of the cries mentioned in the report.
The other officer, a Black man, could not help muttering, "Damn it. Don't tell me there's nothing here and someone just lured us over as takeout."
"Takeout? What are you talking about? We don't have pizza or donuts in the car."
The Black patrol officer launched into a rapid, rolling accent, making use of his racial talent. "No, no, no. I'm obviously not talking about normal food. I mean us! Look at how often Vampires have been causing trouble lately.
"Especially that serious attack in Lower Manhattan this afternoon, in broad daylight. What if a