Cimmerian Meetings - A Mephitic City Preview

Then with a splat her body fell half stiff onto the wet concrete.  Her cheap jewelry about her neck now shining out more than her eyes, amid the deep gloom that the alley provided.  Her killer a tall lean shouldered man in his early twenties stood looming over her, trying desperately to wash the scent of her perfume off of his hands with the raindrops pouring down from the steely grey sky above.  
“Always got to be in the most disgusting places, fucking worms” he said finally shaking off his fingers and pushing them back into his coat pockets.  He hated the whole lot them, the deformed blood drinkers.  The very idea of concealing what you were from the world when it was so obvious, hiding underground was detestable in his mind. And how long was he going to make him wait anyway?  His eyes darted back and forth to both ends of the alley, spotting nothing but dumpsters and wet cardboard.  His ears could hear nothing but the hollow drumming the the water pattering against the rails of the fire escape above his head.  “Nothing but trash so far”  he again said out loud to no one in particular, kicking the poor crumpled body of his victim behind the receptacle in front of him, this was after all the third alley he was told to check that night.  He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time; it was 2:13am.  Two more minutes, and then he’d leave.  This was the last time he came trotting out to god knows where just for the off chance that-
“Am I late Mr. Brixton?” A voice spoke behind him, startling him to the core.  Few people were ever able to get the jump on Troy Brixton.  He whirled around to see a pale figure clad in dark cloth, most definitely a Nosferatu.  The newcomers head was exposed revealing his hideous complexion; pale as the moon with a face that screamed it's inhumanity.  
“You’re Vernon? You’re who I’m supposed to meet?” Troy said in a tone far less commanding than he had hoped for.  “The Sabat ain't just some gang of thugs you can sign up for” He fished around in his pocket, searching for the reassuring feel of the handle to his knife.  
“I am indeed Vernon” the figure said moving uncomfortably close, his black eyes locked on troy’s.  “But I asked for a meeting with he who leads you, not some tiny upstart”
Troy backed up a half a pace, fear getting the better of him. With a jerking motion he put his blade between himself and the figure.  He was done with this place, his eyes glanced at the street opening, judging the distance.  “Yeah, well he doesn’t meet with ugly gutter fuckers.  So if you got something to say, say it!”  It was only about twenty feet, a distance he knew he could cover in a matter of seconds.  
“An example must be made I see.”  The figure said, slowly bringing his own blade out of its hiding place amongst his robes.  “I will get his attention with you.  Maybe it’s better this way.”