Complete darkness consumes the night. The streets are bare and the flickering light post before the alley goes out, but not before a human figure, wearing a black cloak, is seen under it.
(Quietly, under his breath)
Alright ghosty, where are you...
His footsteps echo off the walls, close on either side. Thunder cracks above with a crash of lighting, but no rain. The moon is so bright, that it seems to be almost day instead of midnight. None of this, however fazes the Agent.
Hey, you! In the trench coat! Get out of there, that is an investigative area, no one except those helping in this case are allowed.
The officer stoops under the police line that was set up to cross the alley, therefore blocking out the public. He turns his flashlight on Agent.
Special forces, FBI work. Leave, now.
I was given orders to keep any man out except those written down on my order slip. My orders came from the FBI! Who are you anyway?
Who is on your list?
Uh... just a man they call Agent 1.
There you go, now leave.
So...wait. Oh! You are Agent 1. I am very sorry sir, please continue your work.
Officer turns on his heel, half to hide his embarrassment and half to still look official. Suddenly he screams and his flashlight falls to the ground, no longer illuminating him.
Agent turns quickly, lifting up a Glock 22 .40 cal handgun and aiming at the only thing he could see, the glinting fangs of the monster.
EVERYTHING TURNS BLACK. ONLY THE MUZZLE FLARES FROM THE GUN ARE SEEN.