Early in the morning, around 5', there was one light on in a rather musty looking motel off the side of the street in an area where trees could go on for miles without seeing another car. 

Through the window with the one light, shrouded by curtains, there was a room, containing unremarkable furniture - a table , a couch, a TV with horrible connection, and a set of doors leading into a bedroom, bathroom and small kitchen. Lounged across the couch was a man in extremely casual clothes, looking at a letter he had found tucked under the door when he woke up in the morning.

Things are a little weirder beyond this.

The "man" was a shapeshifter. Specifically, Jackson Marlow, a unique hunter-shifter hybrid who focused on demons. The letter was a mysterious invitation to go to a warehouse that a quick search revealed to be in no public location. Inside the bedroom were three suitcases, with the handles inscribed with devils traps and containing a variety of demon-slaying equipment, with only one containing basics such as clothes and the like. Outside in the gravel parking lot was his trusty 70's big red Ford with a canopy; each side of the door had a devils trap on it, and one inscribed on the floor, hidden under mats.

Jackson went over the letter again, for the third time that morning.

Every piece spelled trap, from the lack of any real introduction, to the unremarkable location he was to go to, and the vague pair of sentences promising him an "experience" he could "never forget". That said, the last paragraph did stick. He might have been... getting a little on in years, but despite the shell of safety and to an extent paranoia he built around him, he usually managed to slam it into good bits of trouble often. He did find himself a little bored as of late, without jobs in his particular area that he was interested in. Getting in a little trouble once in a while wasn't the worst idea he came up with. At least, he thought not.

He read it a fourth time. Breakfast wasn't much of a consideration to him. He could skip eating until a "dinner" snack so long as he had some sort of coffee.

He got up, folded the letter, and came to his decision.