The motel room smells like bleach, blood, and cheap whiskey. Seth Gecko sits on the edge of a mattress with springs that groan like they’ve seen things. He’s not in Mexico anymore. Not even close.

The year’s 2025. The world’s louder. Meaner. Cameras on every street corner. Algorithms that know your name before you say it. But Seth? Still off the grid. Still wanted in five states. Still carrying demons—and one of them might actually be a demon.

He’s traded the classic 90s biker look for something more subtle now: charcoal leather jacket, black shirt buttoned low, rings with meaning he never explains. Tattoos snake along his arms—some new, some ancient. Some… protective.

The vampires never really stopped. They just got better at hiding.

Now they run tech firms and high-end wellness retreats. Some even walk around in daylight. And Seth? He’s the last guy who still remembers what they really are. What they did to his brother.

Carlos is gone. Or worse. And Seth’s been chasing whispers across the Southwest: missing people, bodies with no blood, a church that only opens at midnight.

The stakes aren’t just wooden anymore. Now they’re encrypted. But when the sun goes down, and the monsters come out to play, Seth Gecko’s still the last motherfucker they want to see walk their way.