Amani smiled as she heard the familiar click of her zippo lighter as she flicked it open, quickly lighting the cigarette and placing it between her teeth. She was in the back alleys of her favorite city, hoping that her lack of stealth and blatant display of her vampirism would attract those she sought. Dark alley, red eyes, glancing up at the moon occasionally, gauging the time. Tonight would be the night, she could feel it in her bones. After flicking away the cigarette, she heard the sound of tires upon wet pavement. Looking down the alley, she saw that it wasn't the fabled black vans that everyone who had come to witness the taking of a friend or loved one. Instead, it was simply a sports car, some poor fool who had gotten kicked out of the bar for fighting. Sighing, coming to believe that her entire mission was for naught, that she wouldn't get her wish granted since she wished it, she strolled down the length of the alley, her overwhelming sense of defeat nearly blocking out the sound of tires. However, it did block out the direction it came from, which was behind her. She was nearly at the mouth of the alley when it did click in her mind what the sound of tires meant. Turning around, she smiled at the sight of a black van. The rumors must have been true then. From the passenger side window, a man with his face covered by the low hood of his jacket pointed a handgun at her. She shook her head. "I won't fight," she said, though she wished to, and might have, if it didn't mean that she might die. Raising her hands above her head in surrender, she opened them, showing that she had no weapons. The driver, though she couldn't see him through the tinted black windshield, must have motioned to the man in the passenger seat, for he got out, moving behind her and forcing handcuffs on her wrists. She hissed as she felt her skin burning from the cuffs. They were made of silver, as made evident by her pain. They'd come prepared. He led her to the back of the van, opening it up and pushing her inside. No seats. Instead, there was only a couple other vampires, each looking bloody and broken. They had fought, it was obvious, their hands also bound behind their backs. Glancing at the man with the gun, she said, "Bullets are silver, too, right?" All she got for her trouble was a hit upside her head, and he left, shutting the doors behind him. A few seconds later he was in the front seat again, and the van was moving.