Agent Jordan Palmers laid on the hood of his truck, hands folded behind his head. he looked up at the sky, his view partially obscured by the last onramp to the west seattle bridge. he had parked under the ramp to stay in the shadows, however, now her wished he had parked on the bridge its self. as if reading his mind, his partner, Agent Scott Bishop, spoke from the passengers seat, "hey guy, want to go up top?" Palmers listlessly waved his hand at his partner. Palmers knew better then to be off the surface streets at night. he didn't need anymore demerits on his record. he shifted his legs, the bowie knife strapped to his thigh dig through his black fatigues into his skin. the hood creaked, the sound shrill in the dead quiet of the night. Palmers herd Bishops' pager beep. Bishop groaned, "so much for a quiet night." Palmers slid off the hood, guns and knives clattering against the metal. Stealth was necessary only once and a while. He slid into the drivers seat, "what is it?" bishop let out a deep sigh, "its a runner. just popped up. its..." his voice trailed off. "what?" Palmers asked as he fired up the truck. Bishops deep voice came out in a venomous hiss, "its already across the border. what the fuck? we ain't getting any fucking warnings now? lettin' fuckers cross before they tell us?" Palmers smiled at the string of curses that continued under Bishops' breath. Palmers was obviously considerably more under whelmed then Bishops. "where we going?" he asked, pulling the truck up to a city street. Auto-Nav, the on windshield computer system lit up on the glass in front of him and a silky feminine voice ordered him left. laying his foot down, kicking up gravel and garbage from the underpass, Palmers gunned the behemoth truck over the curb and they were off.
Bishops rundown was short and concise; one male blood sucker, appearance age 24, crossed the border at 04:54:27. he was five six black hair, green eyes with a spider tattoo on his neck. the vampires face flashed across the auto-nav, but was quickly replaced by the street map. a yellow dot on the map marked the position of the runner, a red dot showed their position. their dot sped through the deserted city streets. they caught up with the yellow dot quickly. palmers slammed on the breaks as the dots almost over lapped. both men leapt from the truck, guns drawn. Palmers' .45 shone brightly under a flickering streetlight. bishops' more understated 12 gauge shot gun swung a light from a barrel mounted flashlight across the front of a two floor office building. palmers clicked on his laser sight, the neon blue beam cutting through the darkness out side of the cone of street lamp light. "facts?" he asked bishop. palmers saw bishops' eye narrow, his eidetic memory working quickly, "two floors, three exits, two ground one fire, six private offices on the ground floor, two offices and large waiting room on the second. one restroom, second floor. every door should have a deadbolt." Palmers chuckled," i wish i could do that. any civvies?" "No," said Bishops, "this building is abandoned. are we STK?" Palmers nodded sharply, "yes, we are shoot to kill."
