SEATTLE PIER

The neon lights of the Ferris wheel reflect off the inky black waters of Puget Sound. High above the lively pier, the wheel turns slowly, giving its passengers a sweeping view of the harbor at night. The air is filled with the sounds of calliope music, vendors hawking food and souvenirs, and the delighted shrieks of thrill-seekers riding rollercoasters along the strip.
Two kindred lurk in the shadows beneath the pier, watching a gambling boat dock to pick up its next load of mortal revelers. "So many kine, ripe for the taking," one says to the other, eyeing the crowd hungrily. His companion nods, licking his fangs. "And so many places for accidents to happen."
With the Camarilla's grip weakening, even well-trafficked tourist spots like this harbor pier have become hunting grounds. A neon clown sign flickers and buzzes above the vampires, its smiling face a chilling juxtaposition to their grim intentions in this place of light and laughter.