The interior of a brightly-lit, modern public restroom.

The flooring was made up of small, square, white tiling. The walls were without decoration- painted a monotone gray. Three rectangular mirrors sat over three equidistantly-placed, polished ceramic sinks. Small, nearly-empty, hand soap dispensers hung a few inches to the right of each mirror. A single, empty paper towel holder hung on the wall to the right of all the sinks. Two grey-colored stalls were installed against the wall opposite the sinks and three urinals were to the left- relative to the stalls.

Water budded beneath one of the faucets, slowly elongating before dripping into the sink.

Muffled wood shattering- an explosive crashing.

Muffled shouts of confusion and surprise. Footfalls- running. Authoritative shouting... A single gunshot.

Silence.

Drip.

Muffled, rapid gunfire.

Incoherent shouting- gunfire- grotesque noises- gunfire- wretched screams.

Drip.

Another single gunshot. Thud.

Distant, heavy footfalls- running. Drawing closer. Metallic jingling. Labored breathing.

The thick, wooden restroom burst open- a panting, sweating policeman stumbling inside shoulder-first, barely catching himself from faceplanting into the floor. He spun around and caught the slowly closing bathroom door, frantically putting his entire weight into closing it faster against the small mechanism at the top that prevented it from slamming shut. The policeman almost started hyperventilating as the door closed with agonizing slowness, even with him pushing against it. It finally closed with a jarring bang as the mechanism finally gave up the last few inches.

The policeman nearly jumped out of his skin, then promptly tripped backwards over his own shaking feet onto his butt. His system was so utterly flush with adrenaline that he didn't even register the pain flaring in his tailbone. Instead, he scrambled backwards- eyes wide and frantic- until his back slammed into the bottom of a bathroom stall. The entire stall shook and wobbled under the impact of an armored adult male bodily smashing against its already tenuous structure. The policeman even spent a few moments trying to push himself through the stall's wall- such was the extent of the primal fear running through his mind. He quickly gave up on that when his jumbled thoughts remembered something. With panicked, shaking hands, he slapped the holster on his right hip and fumbled with the thumb break as though he had lost all coordination. He swore and redoubled his efforts- practically ripping the holster off his utility belt as he drew his sidearm and pointed it at the bathroom door- his left hand cupping the right, and his legs splayed out- flat on the floor with his back propped up against the slightly dented stall.

The sidearm wobbled in his shaking hands. His breathing was heavy, and irregular- the anxiety was like a massive lump in his throat and the sensation of acid reflux coating the inside of his throat. Every breath burned. He felt like he was about to vomit. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't remember his training.

Why did he come here!?

Drip.

Why didn't he keep running!? What was wrong with him- he was trapped! And that thing probably heard him...

The sidearm shook even harder. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face- eyes riveted onto the closed door.

Drip.

He heard something.

He lightly gasped, then frightfully clenched his teeth together to keep silent. His shaky grip on the firearm turned white-knuckled. Some brief thoughts managed to squeeze through the cracks of his psyche.

'Get up...' His arms were burning. The door was closed. It was silent.

Drip.

'Get up, Joel!' He remained where he was.

Drip.

'You have to move, now!'

Joel's lips parted ever so slightly- releasing a breath nearly as shaky as the rest of him. Keeping the sidearm pointed at the center of the door, Joel slowly lowered his left hand to the floor at his side- it was cool and hard against his sweaty, burning skin. Carefully shifting his weight onto the hand, he leaned forward and brought his legs in beneath him to his right- his sidearm and eyes didn't waver from the door. He gingerly picked himself up off the floor, once more holding the sidearm with both hands as he rose into a barely passable firing stance and meticulously edged around the corner of the stall. He wanted to place as much distance between himself and the door as possible. Making sure he equally distributed his weight, he carefully placed one foot behind the other as he crept further away- deeper in the restroom. He passed two of the mirrors, the movement of his side-profile reflection almost scaring him out of his wits when he caught movement in his peripherals. He inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth. He desperately tried to center himself- to focus.

It was more difficult than anything he'd ever experienced to remove tunnel-vision once it had set in.

'Keep moving. Get a better angle. Aim for center mass. Wait for backup. Someone must be coming. Someone is coming.'

Joel was almost calm enough to hold his sidearm properly.

Then he noticed a shadow suddenly block some of the hallway light spilling into the bathroom beneath the door.

A lump clogged Joel's throat. His heart started pounding- the roar of his pulse in his ears reached a crescendo. He shook like a leaf in the wind. His mind went blank.

Creak

The door started opening.

Joel snapped.

Yelling incoherently, he squeezed the trigger. The sound was utterly deafening within the confines of the bathroom- Joel could only hear ringing after the third trigger pull and could only feel his throat grow hoarse. The stench of spent gunpowder burned his nose. Joel only knew he needed to reload because the muzzle had stopped flashing two trigger pulls ago. He fumbled the magazine release, nearly dropping the sidearm but finally managed it on the third try- he saw but didn't hear, the magazine clatter across the floor. Smacking his vest, he tore off the Velcro of one of the pouches and removed a fresh magazine with his left hand.

The ruined, bullet-riddled bathroom door started slowly opening again.

Joel froze. Ice-cold fear paralyzed his movements. He felt like he couldn't even breath anymore. His body wasn't his own anymore. He was thankful he couldn't hear anything- otherwise he might have heard himself suddenly start sobbing. He dropped the gun and magazine as though they had scalded him and backed up until his vest hit the wall.

The door completely opened- and Joel's blood ran cold. Every instinct in his body and mind screamed at him to run as far and as fast as humanely possible. And even then, safety was not a guarantee.

Holding open the door with a bloody right arm was a tall, pale man. His street clothing was in tatters- torn, shredded, and covered with random groupings of bullet holes. Dark, blackened blood seeped from his wounds while bright red blood stained his arms and mouth.

'Ohgodnopleasegodno...' Joel slowly slid down the wall, his heart beating so fast and strong that it hurt. His thoughts were foggy- he felt... weird. He pulled his knees up to his chest as best he could because of his vest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to make himself small. Trying to hide. He didn't want to be here. Maybe if he closed his eyes he would wake up in his apartment? He tried doing that. But found that he couldn't take his eyes off the man who was now quietly standing inside the bathroom.

'When did he move?'

Their eyes met.

Joel's heart stopped.

He made an odd strangled noise, both his hands flying up to his throat which had suddenly swelled shut as though he was exposed to a severe allergic reaction. He choked and trembled against the wall- his eyes turning bloodshot and face blue. But his eyes remained firmly locked onto the man's reddish-grey ones- eyes that were growing larger in his vision.

The last thought Joel had before everything was consumed by darkness was that those eyes were oddly... beautiful.

The vampire slid its fangs free of the corpse's neck, swallowed a mouthful of blood and releasing its hold on the body. The pale, dried husk unceremoniously collapsed to the floor in a heap of limp limbs and stiff body armor. The back of the corpse's head was bent at an angle against the wall- its eyes a milky white, and the skin of its face pulled noticeably tighter over the bones. The mouth was parted in a silent scream.

The vampire stood to its full height- the pallor of its skin was a much healthier shade, and its movements were no longer as stiff. It silently considered the corpse at its feet. It almost seemed as though it were thinking. Then it turned and started walking out of the restroom. It paused in the middle of the room, turning its head to the right- its reflection stared back from the central mirror. It locked eyes with its own reflection. Something glimmered behind his cold, dead eyes.

The vampire could not understand. It was driven almost entirely by instinct and... something. That something which it could not understand compelled it to approach the mirror- its reflection growing both closer in reality and in its mind. The glimmer in its eyes increased. It drew near enough that its lower waist bumped into lip of the sink- it didn't notice.

What it did notice was its clothing... Its face... It... was...

The vampire's eyes widened with recognition.

"What..." A masculine voice softly rasped with a trace of horror.

But before any coherent thought could assemble itself, darkness enveloped the waking consciousness.

A universe of darkness. An infinite excess of nothingness. Somewhere, and yet nowhere. Emerson's naked consciousness stood in front of a sink and floating mirror- his vampiric reflection staring back at him. His grey eyes stared deeply into the reflection's- the crimson flecks' intensity abating. Recognition flashed through both pairs of eyes as that which was Emerson slowly re-associated with himself.

A whirlwind of pure darkness surged beside Emerson's conscious form, then vanished into nothingness- a dazzlingly beautiful, cold-eyed woman in its place.

"Tsk, tsk." She clicked her tongue, the sound both infinitely reverberating through the dark while simultaneously not existing at all.

The woman leisurely walked around behind him, placing a snow-white index finger on his left shoulder and slowly tracing it across his back as she came to a stop on his right.

"Sorry, my love..." her sonorous, enchanting voice capable of enslaving minds. She grabbed Emerson's face by the chin- breaking his eye contact with the reflection- and brought their mouths together. Emerson's consciousness did not react in the slightest- his eyes closed.

Their mouths separated after an eternity- or no time at all.

Their noses were nearly touching as the woman's lips parted, her tongue darting out to lick his lips. A gorgeous smile spread across her face. She cupped the back of his head and pulled his ear to her lips.

"Not yet..." The woman faded into a cloud of darkness as she whispered the last syllable.

Emerson's consciousness opened its eyes- red flecks flashed in the grey irises.

The dim crimson flecks in the vampire's irises suddenly flared, then settled into their original intensity.

The vampire cocked its head at its reflection. Their was nothing in either's gaze. It stared at its reflection for a moment longer before turning and leaving the restroom.

The ruined bathroom door creaked open. The mechanism slowed its closing- creaking filled the empty bathroom. Some chunks of wood and chips were dislodged from the bullet holes, sprinkling across the floor. The mechanism stuck... then failed.

BANG