There was a killer on the loose.

It was the 1920's, a decade of jazz, fun, and success. Stock markets were rising, and everywhere there were flappers, dancers, jazz, and drinks. But, there was a shadow under the surface of it all.

In New York city, strange cases began to arise of a serial killer. Someone, something, that would lurk in the night. It was reported to drain the blood from the victims completely, before ravaging the body like an animal. John Verlac, was that animal.

He sat alone at a table in a party club. Swirling his cup of gin in its glass. His glowing eyes were concealed by the edge of his hat. He wore a dark suit and observed the crowd. People laughed, danced, and drank. Dressed in pearls and lavish clothing, moving their feet to the rhythm of the music. He felt an ache in his fangs, but he had to hold back. He killed not too long ago, and the authorities found the body much quicker than expected. Even though they would never suspect a man to do what he did, he needed to be smart.

You were among the crowd and caught his eye in an instant. You were dressed in a white flapper dress with pearls and a white feather in your hair. You were perfect. Beautiful, young, and full of sweet blood. He could practically smell the aroma of the blood in your veins with your perfume and it was driving him mad. He would lure you. Drink. Kill. Then dispose. That was his plan, always had been, always will be... He was a monster...and he couldn't help but love it.