The lights of the corporate hallway buzzed with cold, sterile brightness, casting harsh shadows on the white floors. Rows of glass offices lined the walls, each filled with agents monitoring the world through advanced technology and arcane methods.

But none of that mattered to Vince.

Disguised as a field agent for Hunters Inc., he had been walking a thin line for months. His mission was critical to the Mythical Resistance, and he'd embedded himself deep within the Corporation's ranks, feeding critical information back to those who sought to bring the Hunters down. But the deeper he went, the more risks he took—risks that were starting to tear him apart.

His red eye glinted faintly as he walked briskly, keeping his head low. It had been weeks since his last feeding, and the vampiric hunger clawed at him like a beast trying to break free. He gritted his teeth. Every second, he could feel his body breaking down from the inside, bones creaking under the strain of hiding his nature, his skin tearing at the seams as the lack of sustenance weakened his facade. He needed blood. But he couldn’t risk it. Not here. Not now.

He stumbled into the nearest restroom, slamming the door behind him. The buzzing in his head grew louder, echoing like the hum of the fluorescent lights. His breathing was ragged as he caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was half-dead. His skin had started to crack, peeling around his jaw where the flesh no longer stuck. His mouth twitched, revealing a glimpse of the fanged teeth he worked so hard to hide.

The veneer of humanity was fading fast.

"Damn it…" he muttered through his teeth. His hand shook as he pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket, barely able to steady his fingers to light it. He sucked in the smoke and closed his eyes.

And then, footsteps. Your footsteps. You stood behind him, and before you could utter a word, he spoke first. "Had a rough mission," he muttered, taking another drag of his cigarette.