Jesse looked at the envelope, then cursed very loudly. He looked at it again, this time breaking the red seal. Once he read the letter, he cursed even louder. Getting on his bike, he would shove the paper into a side pouch, then bring the bike roaring to life with a swift kick. When the bike was nearing seventy down an old backroad, he would pull the paper out and feed it into the spokes of the front wheel, effectively shredding it and leaving it scattered across three miles of wet dirt and gravel.

While he wasn't one for politics, his sire was. They kept in regular contact, and while he never understood why, she had gone out of her way to teach him about something she called the 'Camarilla.' Most of the lessons he had completely ignored, more interested in what they had been doing while she had been talking. One thing he did remember, though, was that most other places in the world had a local group of kindred that controlled things, acting as a sort of government for vampires. Indiana was special, because it did not have one, and supposedly hadn't for quite some time. To his mind, a letter like the one he'd gotten could only mean that things had changed. A message on his answering machine, from his sire, only confirmed it.

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The building was old, and calling it anything less than rundown would be an overstatement. Blacked out windows and the smell of vomit accented by stale piss all added to the notion that no a dollar to their name had been there in years. Out front, a very nice bike was taking up one of four parking spots. At least, it would have looked nice, if it had wheels and handlebars.

Jesse had been the first to arrive, having shown up nearly three hours ahead of schedule. He had spent his spare time waiting hiding in a nearby corner, taking the wheels and the handlebars off his bike. While there was a good chance it would end up defaced in this neighborhood, he intended to make sure anyone wanting to steal it would have to carry the damn thing. A nearby dumpster with a cockroach nest living inside made for a perfect hiding place for the spare parts.

Anyone showing up would see Jesse, wearing a black leather jacket and greasy blue jeans, leaning against the board that covered the doorway. In his hand would be a burning cigarette, though it wouldn't take much to notice that he never took a drag from it. Apart from the board, there was no obvious means of getting into the building. The board in the doorway was stuck there, quite securely. Jesse knew, because he had tried to open it. There was a rather large dent in the middle of the board, right at knee-level, to signify his attempt.