Vampires are noted for their cunning, their strength, their blood drinking and and their tendency to burst into flames in the sunlight*. They are certainly
not known for their ability to track cars. Four of the six currently fanning out over the city in search of their lost comrade were among those who were
renowned for their inability to track vehicles. The other two needed some preparation, but with this vehicle, they were as blind as the other four. There were no tell-tale skid marks, and the few granules of glass from the shattered windscreen petered out after a few blocks.
"Got anything?" asked Pockmarks, nee Scab, after thirty minutes of fruitless searching. Runt, the fat dwarf, walked calmly towards him from the other end of his assigned street and shook his head.
"Not a bloody thing. If I didn't know better, I'd say the ******** vanished into thin air." Runt's lips, already thin, pressed into a mere line. "Remember those old experiments? What if-"
"If you're gonna say 'what if someone managed to stop the car from turning into a burning pile of wreckage', I'm gonna kick you back down the other end of the street." Beads of blood, made black by the streetlights, squeezed out of the myriad wounds on Pockmarks face as he glowered. "
Every time you say that ya embarrass us both. It wouldn't make anythin' left behind invisible."
Runt blinked his black eyes a few times, and then his face twisted into a sneer.
"Teleportation."
It was Pockmarks' turn to pause, then he frowned and gave a deep nod.
"Arright, granted, but you try tellin' Tatts that the car teleported. He'd gut you an' make sausages out o' yer innards before you even had time to finish speakin'." A phone beeped and, purely on reflex, Pockmarks reached into a pocket and pressed a few buttons. "'Sides, we got no evide-" He grunted as he looked at the small screen. "They found Charlie. Down the docks, burned to a crisp. No sign of the car. Tatts is pissed, wants us to get a move-on before the newbies ******** everything up an' we got no clues."
Runt clucked his tongue, an impatient mannerism from when he was alive. "Bats?" he enquired.
"Bats," Pockmarks confirmed. "Unless we want a nice fragrant run through the sewers."
There were a pair of faint noises as the two vampires imploded into two black clouds. Two bats fluttered madly up into the air, circled once or twice to gain height, and then made a beeline straight towards the docks. The night was drawing on, and they had much to do before morning.
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* Despite the claims of certain fangirls, sparkling in sunlight isn't all that common.