Quinn was hungry and the time had come to feed. She was dressed in her favorite color, black. Her black Nike's made no noise over the pavement as she wound her way through the streets of the slums. She had an idea of what she wanted to eat tonight. Something wretched. Something she wouldn't feel badly about if she accidentally killed. A candidate was in mind. The Shadow often roamed the streets and people watched. It was important to her typically to do her little good deeds for the other mortals in the city. Though they would never know her work, she knew, and that was always enough for Quinn. Her sire always derided her for her 'charity'. She could hear his voice in her head taunting her "Ohhh..how special. My childe thinks what? A mortal hunter would overlook her if she only fed from the evil doer? Silly whelp. They are like rabid dogs to our kind. They will hate you and revel in your demise."

Quinn never thought that of course, but Abel was cruel and very very far removed from the 'human stain', as he put it. Quinn felt she was a wolf plucking the diseased from the rest of the herd. Ensuring the healthy populations as it were. She also privately believed that taking the blood of those who were evil could help her understand it all better. The difference between good and evil. What it tasted like, smelled like, thought like. What better way than to drink their blood? Absorb them into herself. Quinn had been walking for awhile and was about ready to give up when she saw her intended prey. She stilled and instinctively found the shadows. The woman was pushing a cart with stolen goods in the bottom. A thief wasn't that evil really, but this one picked the bones of the dead. Yup. Something that to the Shadow was unforgiveable. How dare this fucking cunt steal the gifts the living had bore the dead souls?! Taking the very offerings themselves. Quinn's tongue ran over her fangs.

She snuck up behind the woman and put her shoulder into her side driving her into the alley wall. At this time of night, in this part of the city, noone would come to her aid. She did cry out. Strangled, mewling, and barely registering in the night. In the confusion the urchin put her arms around Quinn and tried to grab her hair. Huge mistake. It made it that much easier for Quinn to sink her fangs into her shoulder as she literally forced her face into her flesh. Of course once she began to drink, all time was lost and lust tainted. The urchin was limp against the wall, dazed, confused, and elated. Quinn left her there, slipping quickly off, taking enough to satisfy her bloodlust without killing the woman, but more than what she normally would. The urchin would be tired and weak for awhile, and probably bloody scared. She'd survive though.