Notes: Lyrics from Michael Jackson "Smooth Criminal"
Feedback: Good or bad, 's all groovy :)

There's a sign in the window
That he struck you - a crescendo Annie
He came into your apartment
Left the bloodstains on the carpet
Then you ran into the bedroom
You were struck down
It was your doom
So, Annie are you ok?

The gun felt reassuringly heavy in her hand, although it had taken longer to load than was comfortable and she still wasn't sure whether the safety was on or off. The two entire lessons she'd had in the Walther's use seemed far away and inter-spliced with memories of she and Kamiko from Accounting trying to stop giggling about the instructor's comb over hair.

She muttered under her breath, keeping the same oddly comforting monologue with herself going, just for something to focus on besides the occasional far off scream "Well, that was stupid. And now you're going to do something even more stupid aren't you? You're going to go out there and see if anyone's alive. So you might as well get moving."

The sound of gunfire down the corridor had been less than encouraging, and more than anything she wanted to curl up under the desk and wait it out. But she couldn't. There were monsters out there, and they were eating her co-workers. It was clear the floor clearance had not gone according to plan, so she forced herself towards the door and pausing with her hand on the bolt, listening intently for any sound beyond her own stilted breathing. Nothing.

It took a moment to slide the deadbolt back but it was mercifully silent, as was the door when it opened inch by inch under her grudging push into the corridor. The acrid smell of gun smoke and blood was nauseating, bile climbed in her throat as she froze, closing her eyes, waiting to be attacked or the feeling to pass. Mentally she counted out the seconds, ten, then twenty passed, she opened her eyes and stepped into the dimly lit passageway, trying not the breath. Someone, or maybe something, was whimpering so softly she barely heard it. With the gun feeling lighter in her sweat-slicked palm, she headed towards the sound, trying to ignore the bloody handprints on the walls.

There was a pile of bodies, methodically stacked into a pyramid, dressed in the light armoured gear that signified a clean-up team. In the dimness of the hall, what should have been red pools on the floor was mercifully black. That made it easier to approach somehow. The whimpering was coming from within the middle of the heap and her mouth took over as her mind cut out, her brain idly watching as she put the gun on the floor and began pulling back the remains of their would-be saviours.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm gonna get you out. It'll be okay. I have a gun. I'm not sure if it works or anything, but it's still a gun. And that's good, right? I mean, its not a flamethrower ... maybe I can write a memo about having emergency flamethrowers. That'd work ..."

An arm came loose without it's body following, just pale and lax like so much butchers meat in her hands. The nails looked like they were chewed to the quick. The owner was a nervous man ... the Psych boys would like to know ... there was a thick gold ring on the fourth finger. She threw up without warning, retching until there was nothing more and dry heaving until she thought her ribs would break. As her harsh pants quietened, she realised the whimpering had stopped.

With renewed urgency she pulled at the bodies once more, her voice sounding far away as she gabbled

"Have you out in a minute. Just a minute. It's gonna be okay."

At last she found him, at the very bottom of the pile, the suit amongst the soldiers. The man was lying on his front, blond hair turned crimson. She couldn't tell if it was his blood, or the blood of those above him. Desperately she checked for a pulse at his neck, feeling a thready, pathetic thing after a few seconds. A breath she didn't know she had been holding rushed out as she turned him as gently as possible.

"Anderson?"

The door behind her crashed open and without thinking she dove for her gun, snatching it up and rolling to point it at whatever had come through, finding herself staring up the barrel of an assault shotgun. Her finger tightened on the trigger of the Walther before she even noticed who it was.

Woodman saw the woman move and had only enough time to bring the shotgun up, the sound of the trigger being pulled crashed in his ears and he froze. When he felt no immediate need to fall over and add to the bodies on the floor he spoke in what he hoped was a calm tone.

"Safety's on"

She let her arm fall back to her side and pulled herself up from her sprawl in the floor. Woodman turned his attention from her to the strewn bodies around them, then back. He continued speaking in what she felt was an unreasonably even tone.

"You ok?"

After blinking at him a few times she finally succumbed to the laughter his words provoked. Tears poured down her face as she giggled, staring at the black streaked floor.

"Let's see ... I've just spent the last five minutes digging through spare parts of colleague to find Agent Anderson ... thrown up only once ... and nearly shot you." Her last words came out a gasp as oxygen became an issue. "Fine, I'm fine. I think I'll take this up as a hobby. Macramé, sweater knitting and playing hide and seek with vampires. "

His slap wasn't gentle, she raised her hand slowly to the skin of her cheekbone, feeling the heat and stinging pain. Wonderful, and now he'd think she was some weak little girl. Anger. There came the anger, she stood and revelled in it as it pushed away the fear at last.

"Thanks. Hope I can return the favour some time."

A low and amused whistle came from behind Woodman. A figure was leaning in the doorframe; it was too dark to see much more than an outline. She startled to raise her pistol again, but Woodman gave a slight shake of his head and knelt besides Anderson as the whistler spoke.

"Told you my girl likes to play. And if you think this is bad, you better hope we find her quick. Just other night she was saying..."

Finally she realised who this was as Woodman's shoulders tensed angrily and the other's voice died away uncertainly. It hadn't moved into the light yet, withdrawing back into the room a little as the agent brushed past her and took it by the scruff of the neck.

"Let's get some ground rules down vampire. You don't talk. You don't whistle. You don't smile. You especially don't show any artistic appreciation."

Woodman watched it's attention go very nearly involuntarily to the still cooling bodies, it licked it's lips and the naked hunger in it's eyes was unmistakable. He shook it harder, the thing weighed hardly anything.

"You do NOT snack"

Isaac dragged his eyes away from the intoxicating scent of blood and nodded, making a mental note to ensure that this one's head was left intact. They could use it as a hood ornament for a while, or just stick it on the mantle. Or … he lost his pleasant train of thought as the woman spoke

"Anderson doesn't look good. He's lost some blood, but I don't think that's the problem."

She lifted his shirt and winced as her theory was confirmed, a dark bruise the size of her hand on his sternum. The guy was bleeding internally. A choked moan signalled he was also starting to come around. Her thoughts raced along, at last having something she could think about besides the equal parts of terror, and more terror.

"I don't know what you ... two ... came out for, but I'm going to get this man to the med room. You're going to help me."

Sam stood ready to shout, wanting to shout, and unaccountably annoyed when Woodman just nodded again, propelling the vampire ahead of him as he stepped forward.

"We'll carry him. You take point. I don't know this part of the building that well " He paused and looked fully at her with perhaps the faintest hint of dark humour in his expression as he handed over the shotgun. "The safety's off this one."

It occurred to her she didn't know it either. Every other floor had a med room by regulations; hopefully this was the "other" floor. Then she focussed on something white, glinting under the matt blood covering most of it. Bending to retrieve it, she realised two things as her subconscious started to scream.

It was the swipe card the security teams used to get between floors. Each team carried one, and it was right here. That meant whatever had killed them was...

"Hey baby ... we're here."

Isaac laughed.