text: The back door, you decide. You want to ensure you get the drop on the Thrall, and don't end up in a firefight with the man, or else the vampire will have time to awaken from his internal, dreamless slumber, and then you don't have a chance in hell. With that decided, you walk towards the house, shotgun gripped tightly in your hand. Surprisingly for a vampire's lair, your surveillance has said that the house is completely lacking in any serious security measures. Locked doors and windows, sure, but they're lacking the reinforced doors, security cameras. It's a young vampire, so you're not expecting legions of Thralls protecting him or runic blood magic protecting the house, but clearly the power's gone to this creature's head. 
  
  
  Moving slowly and softly through the garden around to the back, you still your breathing and do your best to be as soundless as the shadows. You creep through the rose bushes, whose petals look almost eerily beautiful in the moonlight. The sky's light brightens your path, but also makes it harder to sneak, and you just stay low and hope that if the Thrall happens to be looking out the window, he isn't looking too hard. 
  
  
  Edging around to the back, you draw close to the wooden door. You move to the door, standing ready, before striking. Taking a deep breath, you growl, ready to act. You raise your shotgun, firing through the door's lock as you boot it open, quickly stepping through the now opened doorway and into the house.
  
  
  The Thrall stands in the kitchen, his back turned to you.The Thrall is a short, bearded man, growling and shaking his head repeatedly as he divides a pile of crushed and broken white crystals, no doubt a substitute between his feedings on the vampiric blood he's heavily addicted to. The man quickly turns, his crazed, blood-shot eyes bulging at you as he sees you. 
  
  
  His eyes dart up to you as he growls, an animalistic sound that could only come from a beast. With a roar, he charges for you.
  > You smash him aside with the butt of your shotgun
  You swing your shotgun as hard as you can, the stock of your shotgun flying into his face. The shotgun butt smacks into his face, shattering the bridge of his nose and sending teeth and blood flying and spewing across the floor. 
  
  
  The man stands there, with a broken nose and blood streaming down his face, skin torn and fleshed bruised, but still standing there. He roars, grabbing you and flinging you into the wall. You smack into the wall, sliding down it onto the ground as you groan in pain. The Thrall rushes forward, drawing a knife as he rams it into your stomach.
  
  
  You gasp, as the steel pierces and cuts through flesh and guts, and the Thrall precedes to repeatedly and aggressively penetrate your stomach. Blood, stomach acid and the remains of food begin pouring out of your open wound and running down your stomach as death quickly drags you into the endless darkness.