Athos is kneeling to yank his knife out of one dead vampire; at Porthos’ call, he turns and fires, smiling grimly as the creature drops to the ground. Though he has always craved danger, he doesn’t like to think of himself as one who gets satisfaction from killing. And yet these monsters, with their evil hungers and soulless tactics, deserve only death. Athos is glad to see them gone from this world, and glad to have been the one to help them along.

The ramshackle building is finally quiet, and no more creatures emerge from the shadows. Slowly he rises to his feet, still too suspicious to declare victory outright, but prepared to say that they may have cleared the nest. “Porthos,” he begins, peering into the room’s dark corners to ensure that no more shapes lurk there, “Go check on Ar-“

Without warning, something tackles him from behind. Athos falls with a shout, his pistol flying out of his hand and skittering across the floor.