Daniel had now walked past the parking lot separating buildings 387 and 413. He gazed at the 413: a long, yellow detached house with a narrow façade. Although it seemed old-fashioned and abandoned, the building still stood in impeccable condition. Daniel ascended the cement stairs leading to the door, but as he did so, he noticed something in the alley dividing the yellow bricked 413 and the red bricked 415. In fact, he noticed someone - a ragged vagrant, laying against the red-bricked wall, holding onto an empty bottle of cheap wine. The neonate looked back to the street, as to see if no one could be watching him. With confidence, Daniel approached the tattered vagabond quietly. The bum did not notice the vampire coming, so drunk that he was; nor did he notice the vampire when the latter lowered himself and held him tightly as to hug him; nor did he notice the vampire’s fangs extend and pierce his neck to draw nearly all of his mortal blood, filled with life in spite of alcohol’s intoxicating effects. Once done, the vampire wiped his mouth and let go of the entranced vagabond. He knew he was now being observed. “Show yourselves… Cainites.”
As Daniel stood up, four thugs armed with pocket knives, crowbars, and baseball bats, walked into the alley from Sherbourne Street. They looked like hooligans with their urban jewelry and clothes, fiendishly delighted as they approached the Tremere neonate.
“You’re Daniel Giroux, aren’t ya?” The question came from the tall ruffian who led the group. He held a long hockey stick and wore a blood-stained Maple Leafs' jersey.
Daniel smiled. “That’s me indeed. I presume all of you make a Sabbat pack, don’t you?”
“That’s right, Tremere piss,” replied the pack leader, “and we’ve come to deliver ya a message!”