Present Day:

Mike Nazarian sat at a small round table in the corner of the room. It was dark, with flashing lights and loud music. His brother Drian sat down, downing another beer and scanning the crowd. The floor had a few dancing bodies twisting, stomping, and dancing to the beat. Mike longed to join them, the pulsing Eurobeat tempting him to abandon his duty.

"Anything?" He asked in a low voice, tilting his head to the side so his voice would carry into the small microphone by his ear.

"Nothing, yet," Diran said, his voice crackling over the earpiece. They sat next to each other, but yelling over the music would compromise them. Their target would either flee or the entire club would turn on them. Neither would be a good outcome.

"There," his brother said, and he nodded toward the VIP doors. Mike squinted through the lasers and smoked at a tall man. The man wore a tail-length suit and had a long fade. A woman in a short dress with long hair hung from his arm.

"That's them." Mike casually stood up and stretched his legs. Despite the heat, he wore a large coat, causing the crowd to part around him and give him strange looks. He ignored them as he faltered, dancing through the floor toward the VIP lounge.

The couple disappeared inside the doors and reappeared a short time later on the second-floor balcony.

Mike watched them as he bobbed around on the floor. A woman sauntered over and took his hand. Not tonight. He thought, but she was gorgeous, and the music filled him with an urge to move his body with hers.

"Might as well, brother." Diran's voice chirped in his ear in their native Romanian. "I can see them from here, and they are not going anywhere. Mike glanced at him, and he held a beer up to accent what he said.

He relaxed a little and let the woman take the lead. The music was pleasant, and she was gorgeous, but his heart wasn't in it. A feeling of dread has followed him for months now. Fangs were getting hard to get now. The Union was stretched thin with so many moving cities to find jobs. Big John had taken off for Texas. Bud and his family retired somewhere as far from the city as they could. He had one contact, but he was strictly hush-hush and wasn't officially a member of the Union. Maybe Seth had some idea why the valley seemed to be drying up.
The music's beat changed, and the woman began rubbing her hips against his. Mike pulled her close and matched her tempo. He rocked back and forth and closed his eyes, just allowing her and the music to move him around. His hands moved over her torso, sliding over the soft fabric.
She stood up and her arm hooked around the back of his head.

"They're moving," Diran's voice said over the earpiece. Mike looked up at the balcony, and the couple had gone out of view.

The door to the VIP lounge swung open, and the couple walked out, followed by several more well-dressed people. It wasn't normal club wear for a place like this; most wore fluorescent colors that glowed in the black light. This bunch looked like they just left the Red Carpet.

Mike's hands gripped his partner's hips tighter as he watched the group walk around the dance floor. He looked down at her back, and she was almost bent in half toward the floor. He stepped back and looked for the other group again. They were heading out the door, and the last one to leave turned. His gaze wept over the crowd, and Mike could almost feel the glow coming from them as their eyes locked.

"Brother," Diran warned. The woman remained motionless, bent over, despite the music continuing to blare in the background. Her face peered at Mike from between her knees; its expression changed feral, and he finally noticed her fangs, accented by her hideous smile.

Mike dropped the zipper of his coat, pulled two PSA daggers out, and fired a shot into her head. Steam rose from the hole in her forehead, and thick black blood pooled on the ground beneath her.

He kicked her over and fired another shot at the next vampire that came at him. The club was in front; they walked into a vamp nest.
Another shot pushed a vamp across the floor as Diran fired his sawed-off into the dance floor. Mike pulled a wooden stake off his back and stabbed the back of a man with bright yellow hair. He turned his face as black blood spewed out.

A vamp grabbed him from behind and hiss as it came into contact with the garlic based cologne on his neck. His stake spun in his hands and went through the vamp's ribs. Mike dropped it and whirled around, his foot pushing the vamp into another, just in line to take a bullet laced with silver.
In the corner of his eye, Diran ran to the doors. He jerked on them a few times, but they didn't budge.

Trapped.

Mike rolled to the edge of the dance floor, pulling his hatchet from its place on his back. There were six vamps left. They contorted grotesquely, observing him and his brother under the flickering lights and pulsating music.

As Diran positioned himself behind him, he rose to his feet steadily. Mike felt a tug as Diran pulled something off his back. With a small click, a canister rolled onto the middle of the floor.

With a hiss, a fine mist of garlic oil entered the air. Mike blinked back tears, the overpowering smell engulfing him.

The vamps screamed and began to convulse as they inhaled the toxic gas. Their blood ran from their noses and mouths as it ate them from the inside out. Mike and Diran fished at them, dropping each one with a well-aimed head shot.

Diran grinned at the hatchet on his waist and got to work breaking the glass doors. The pungent garlic gas billowed out of the room, mingling with the cool LA air. They got to work pulling the fangs out of the fallen vamps.

"Call the cops," Mike said, his boots crunching the broken glass.

A Ram Protester parked up the street, was covered in black and read. "The Nazarian Brothers: Stereo Repair." plastered on the side. Mike opened the back doors, and they threw themselves on the floor, surrounded by gun crates and ammunition boxes.

As Diran reported hearing a shooting at the club, Mike closed the doors and made his way into the driver's seat. He pulled his phone out and scrolled until he found his contact's number.

"Hey," Mike said when the line picked up. "I need some info from you."

"Lankershim, the River." He said, then hung up.