Cobain's cold green eye's starred down at the girl, his fingers around her soft neck. He smiled at her, wriggling around like a worm. He ran his finger through his chin length blonde hair and rolled his neck. Before she could scream, before she could blink his fangs ripped into her flesh. They tore in so far, that she passed out, the color in her face draining just as quickly as the blood. He dropped her on the cement and wiped his mouth.
He fixed his hair once more, and continued down the alley. He was wearing a black trench coat, with a white t-shirt under and jeans. His black combat boots thudded on the wet cement, echoing off the brick walls, as he walked. He took a cigarette from his pocket, and placed it in his mouth. Lighting the match with his fingernail, he slowly lit his cig and tossed the match over his shoulder. The gray smoke tumbling out of his nostrils. Each of his fingers on his right hand, was wrapped in black electric tape, and he also had small tattoo of a date on the back of his neck.
He turned down a populated street, hormonal teenage kids drinking liquor and dancing around like baffoons.
Tonight would be a fun night, he thought to himself, as he leaned on building, and watched the humans.