(Third Person).
Brackham sat alone in his office, the city lights of Duskmoor stretching faintly beyond the tall windows.
The hour was late, but sleep had been a stranger to him for a long time. He held a cup of coffee in his hand, its steam curling in the faint glow of his desk lamp.
The knock at his door was urgent, not the sort that waited for permission. His secretary burst in, pale and shaken, clutching a thin folder and a remote.
"Sir… It's the northern tech facility."
Brackham's eyes narrowed. "What about it?"
She hesitated before placing the folder in front of him. "It was attacked tonight, about ten minutes ago, by Vampires."
The word cut through the air like glass shattering. Brackham's jaw clenched as he snatched the folder open. His gaze darted across the report, with each line tightening the muscles in his face.
