The Underground

Chapter 1: A Stranger Beckons

If there were ever a sigh capable of blowing out the sun, it would be the one carefully clenched behind Vivian's pursed lips at that moment. Yet somehow, the scraggly, gray-haired man in front of her was blessed with the ability to strengthen that very sigh with each word that came out of his mouth.

"Sweetheart I don't think you understand what I'm saying," he said slow, patient, and, above all else, patronizing.

Vivian stared at him, a cross between bafflement and exhaustion. Who called who here?

"I understand," she responded, each word hissing out of her tightened jaw. "And I'm telling you, it's not a vampire infestation. It's scamps. They like to look for scraps anywhere fresh meat is, human or otherwise, and your garbage must be calling to them like a beacon from the heavens."

She paused to gesture at the shop that stood behind the two of them. The wretched butcher's shop was crammed into a row of buildings as most architecture in San Francisco was, but the building was fortunate enough to have an alleyway on one side. Fortunate for the scamps, that is, as the butcher's garbage bin was filled with horrible smelling but delectable treats for them.

The older man folded his arms and squinted up at Vivian, "Now miss are you sure it's not vampires? Cause my neighbor said- "

In a heartbeat the sigh was finally released, filled with entire minutes of frustration, anger, and exhaustion, and more than powerful enough to destroy the sun, had it been shining. At the least, it notified this stumpy man she was no longer tolerating his ineptitude. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Do you serve human meat here?"

The man gasped. "Do you think I'm some downtown slum-shop?"

Vivian looked questioningly at the barely standing heap of health code violations behind them. "Of course not. So why would vampires take residence near your garbage if there's no human blood to be found?" she asked slow, patient, and, above all else, patronizing.

The man paused, bringing a hand to his face and scratching. He opened his mouth, surely to voice some other question of her expertise, but she cut him off, unable to stand another second of his voice.

"Alright, listen, I'll check it out, just wait here and don't get eaten," she muttered, turning to face the condemned building standing opposite of the butcher's shop. The man nodded eagerly, taking her throwaway joke too seriously, but she didn't bother to explain the humor before approaching the abandoned structure.

Her arms slipped down from their folded position, hands reaching to touch the weapons strapped reassuringly to her legs – one a silver dagger, the other a wooden stake. A girl's best friends, nowadays. Eager to prove the stumpy man wrong, she rushed to the front of the building. The primary entrance was boarded up with condemned signs plastered over it, but a nearby window missing both glass and boards offered an easy entrance. 

She hopped over the shallow barrier, her heavy boots landing with a thud on the inside of the building. From here, it was now clear the place had been a restaurant in its past life. A few scattered tables and chewed up booths had been left behind by their owners, leaving the haunting feeling of ghosts from a different era lingering alongside them.

Also, it reeked. The sudden smell of rotting flesh, old blood, and shit made Vivian slap a hand to her face, covering her nose and mouth as best she could. It's so fucking scamps.

Adjusting to the smell, she began perusing the building, stepping over broken glass, splintered wood, and tattered carpet. The front area, where customers had once been seated, bore a few signs of the nasty critters, such as discarded bones and claw marks on the booths, but those could be just as easily accredited to rats. She needed something more.