Ever since he'd lost his construction job Jim had been hard up for work. Nothing was going up during this economic downturn, and Jim was one of the hordes of unemployed workers, taking any job that they could get.

That was how Jim, a forty-five year old construction worker, ended up working the late shift in the laundry room at the Sundown Sacramento hotel. He was being paid barely minimum wage to wash towels, sheets, and pillow cases. Some of the stuff he dealt with was truly revolting to the senses. Towels covered in vomit and sex-stained sheets were among the worst of it. Most of his co-workers spoke little to no English. It was a shit job, but it was all Jim could find at the moment.

The laundry room of the Sundown Sacramento Hotel could be a creepy place sometimes. Especially at night. Most of the other workers had gone home for the night, so Jim would spend hours and hours by himself amongst the whirring machines.

So he sat on a bench, waiting for the last load of the night to finish drying, reading some trashy suspense novel, knowing that he was alone. Knowing, that is, until two big hands grabbed him from behind - pulling him into a crushing grip. A sudden pain and pressure on his neck shocked him at first, before his mind filled with ecstasy and he went limp - dropping the book to the floor.



Arnold Culler drank what he could of the man's blood, without going too far, and left him reclining on the bench - passed out.

Jim was discovered twenty minutes later by the night manager. He was fired promptly for sleeping on the job.