Chapter 1: Happy Deathday

January 1st, 2008

The city of New York has never been so alive. The Times Square ball had just dropped as citizens welcomed the new year, unconcerned despite the winter's harsh wind and rain, holding cans of beer and singing and dancing all night. The face of Saint Nicholas was plastered all over the shop windows around the streets of Manhattan, and police stood around metal fences with umbrellas and thick coats covering their bodies, controlling the masses that came to this place to celebrate.

It was a loud night, for sure. The well-executed fireworks display was taking place amid the city's rainy and overcast skies, seemingly unaffected by the hour's wetness, and the crowd chanted as the colorful lights flashed in the air, lighting up the already bright night sky.

Caine saw all this happen with his very own eyes from afar, watching as his colleagues did their jobs, bringing in their badges to wave around, their radios on their shoulders constantly ringing due to the hectic nature of the event. He was not, however, here to revel with the crowd, and despite being a law enforcement officer, he was not here to police the masses.

He came here instead to apprehend a serial killer.

"Donovan, are you there?" A gruff voice sounded from his radio transceiver, which was hidden beneath his black trench coat.

He took it and touched the button next to the device.

"What's the situation?" he asked, his gaze darting over the crowd before settling on his partner, who had just called him. The man, whose surname was Maxwell, was simply dressed in civilian clothes to avoid detection; he was overweight and in his forties. Caine normally works alone, which is one of the benefits of being a detective, but the situation required him to seek assistance from another investigator because this was not an easy arrest. He needed more men, but Maxwell was the only one that was given to him.

"Got eyes on the target." Maxwell informed Caine, and Caine's eyes followed the man's eyesight, towards a man who was bringing a rather drunk girl to an empty alleyway, far from the crowd. "If you can see it, it's rather obvious."

"I see it." Caine made a humming sound. "I'll follow him; you find another way to block his escape."

"Roger that." Maxwell responded, and the radio became silent.

Caine hurriedly prepared after hearing the confirmation. He drew his weapon from a holster hidden in his coat in front of his chest, a Glock 17 with a 9mm cartridge as ammunition. In the downpour, he checked his gun, and when he saw that it was in good working order, he hid his gun-holding hand behind him and clutched his badge in the other.

As Caine moved toward the alleyway, the crowd continued to applaud in the background, the lights of the fireworks reflecting on the puddles on the street. Caine was anxious due to the cold air of the hour, and he gripped the gun tightly, ready for anything.

When he reached the alleyway's entrance, he took cover on the side, peering towards the pathway ahead. Caine saw it: the serial killer he had been assigned to apprehend was necking the drunk woman, and the woman could be heard moaning, clearly enjoying the treatment she was receiving.

From a distance, Caine noticed his companion, Maxwell, who appeared to be ready as well. When he saw this, he gave him a signal and joined the walkway.

"This is the NYPD." Caine declared, with his pistol leveled at the man in the middle of the alleyway, his badge facing him. "You are under arrest on the suspicion of serial murder. You have the right—"

When the killer removed his face from the woman's neck, Caine noticed something startling and terrifying: the man's mouth was full of blood.

The woman's neck had a noticeable huge wound, her face was pale as white, and her body was slowly sinking to the floor as it slipped off the wall that supported it.

"What the hell?!" Caine heard Maxwell yell and saw his partner's shocked expression, with his pistol drawn.

"Wait!" Caine gave the order, but it was in vain. The sound of gunfire immediately resonated throughout the streets, and bursts of light could be seen coming from Maxwell's direction. Instead of falling to the ground, the killer unexpectedly vanished from the detective's vision, leaving him uncomfortably alert.

"Where is he?!" Maxwell searched feverishly, his guns aiming everywhere. This is simply not normal. Maxwell was a veteran detective; he shouldn't be acting like a rookie.

"Calm down, Maxwell." Caine rushed over to the woman who was bleeding on the ground.

"No, he hasn't gotten away yet!" Maxwell let out an unusual snarl. "That… What in the world was that?! That thing is a monster! It's not over yet, Donovan!"

"I know." Caine just replied, checking on the woman's condition. The woman's eyes were lifeless, yet there was still a faint beat on her wrist when he checked it. Finally, he pulled out his radio transceiver and dialed HQ. "We have casualties here, requesting medics and backup, I repeat, requesting medics and backup."

"Donovan, watch out!"

Caine swiftly whirled around after hearing Maxwell's warning and saw the killer in front of him, ready to attack. Caine could see two noticeable, sharp fangs coming out of the killer's mouth, and his eyes just appeared like a predator observing its prey.

The detective raised his gun; sounds of gunshots rang throughout the alleyway once again as he aimed at his head, emptying his magazine. When the clean smoke disappeared as the rain continued, Caine was appalled to realize that the bullets had done nothing. The killer's—no, monster's—face remained intact, as terrible as ever.

The monster vanished from Caine's sight with the flick of a finger, and he felt a painful prick in his neck. The sensation was not unpleasant; rather, it was blissful, as if he were in a state of euphoria. His conscience simply screamed at him to let him do whatever he wanted with him, but he snapped out of it and seized the monster's head, pulling it as hard as he could, away from his neck.

Caine used his handgun as a weapon once the monster let off, slamming the lower half of the pistol into the monster's face. When Caine's pistol made contact with the monster's skin however, it shattered into pieces and fell to the ground. Without caring, Caine proceeds to launch his fist at the beast, directing it to his face. The monster dodged it, tilting his body ever slightly, but then Caine raised his left foot, kicking the crotch of the killer in front of him.

At first, the monster let out a tiny groan, holding on to his groin, but then Caine could hear the beast in front of him chuckle, as if teasing him. Finally, not a second later, the investigator was overcome with pain, his hands holding the wound inflicted by the vampire, attempting to stop the flow.

Caine's knees were weakening quickly, and he was losing consciousness. Just as he was about to drop out, he noticed his companion Maxwell, sprinting towards the creature, his eyes wide with rage.

The detective was bleeding on the ground when he observed Maxwell furiously fighting the creature. The monster then appeared to grow sharp claws before slashing Maxwell's throat, killing him quickly.

As the beast turned towards Caine, the veteran cop collapsed on the ground, choking on his own blood. Caine finally heard the beast's voice as his eyes became heavy and difficult to stay open.

"I admire your ability to resist temptation." The monster chuckled. "Well, it appears you deserve a reward."

Caine's consciousness eventually disappeared, with the beast's words repeating in his memory as the last thing he had heard.