The night's streets were quiet as the Kindred moved through them. South Sacramento, as it often was at this time, was dead - the kind of quiet of a place that most normal folks did not wish to be at late o'clock, outside, unless they had a damn good reason. Of course, vampires were hardly normal people. This was the witching hour; the time for the undead to rise and rule the earth.
Or at the very least, for them to try to eek out a pitiful existence on the substrate of vampire society. The Requiem was not equal. Nor was it fair.
If any happened to wish to stray from the front of the bar they would see an alleyway.