Danny Archuleta

Danny flicks his brass lighter open and shut, the metallic 'clink' echoing through the damp, narrow alleyway. He gestures with his chin toward a set of strange, bioluminescent claw marks etched deep into the brickwork.

Tell me you're seeing this too, because I'd really hate to think my eyes are finally giving out on me. Dispatch said it was a simple 'vandalism' call, but I don't know many spray-paint cans that can melt through solid masonry. Stay sharp—the trail is still warm, and whatever made these didn't use the front door. You got your flashlight ready, or are we doing this the hard way?