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You take the steps down, two at a time, eager to begin the hunt. You haven't seen many pedestrians since you arrived, but as with any other hunting ground in Ottawa, it's just a matter of time before an opportunity presents itself.

It's a decent idea, provided you can get the doors open without making too much of a ruckus. You latch your fingers into the small crack between the doors—there's no handle here for you to wrench open—and pull, channeling your vampiric strength into the effort. Your fingers cramp and scream out for you to stop just before the door relents and pulls open in your desperate grip. There's very little of interest inside, but you weren't looking for a bounty of objects to steal, only a web to trap your victim in. You step inside and close the doors until only a slit of light shows through as you settle in to wait.

Eventually, you see a middle-aged man walking in your direction, wearing an oversized Leafs jersey. Looks like walking through the tunnel alone in the dark isn't the first mistake he's made tonight.

You leap out and grab hold of the man, tearing him off the walkway as your hand wraps around his mouth before he can scream for help. Within seconds, he's safe with you inside your makeshift den. You're not sure if that could have gone any better!

You sink your fangs into his neck and drink deep, savoring the rich flavor of his blood. It's not often that you get complete privacy to feed at your leisure these nights, and you intend to savor it. Once the commotion in the city has died down for good, you'll need to get Gerard to deliver a victim that you can enjoy just like this in the comfort of your own home.

Your appetite largely sated for the moment, you decide to move on, always aware that there's a Hunger for more that you can never fully extinguish.

Next

The alleyway used to access Bouchard's area of the sewers seems almost unnaturally quiet, the air still and unnerving. You kneel down and ready yourself to open the manhole cover when you hear a footstep several feet away, behind a dumpster. Slowly standing up again, you scan the area for observers, listening keenly for the slightest sound. Had you been mistaken? No, there it is again, this time at the other end of the alley. You race to the spot, but there's no one there.

You spend a minute poking around, and even peek up and down the street on the other end of the alley, but in the end you come up with nothing. It must have been your imagination after all.

Next