Zantafio had warned him about this. In fact, he had warned him earlier that morning, while he waited for his toast to finish crisping and Zantafio smoked his first cigarette with his second cup of coffee.

"Apparently the Vampire of Brussels struck again last night," he said after a long drag.

Fantasio thought it was silly. And to be honest, Zantafio apprently thought it as well, as he snickered at the thought of vampires before adding another packet of sugar in his cup.  Vampires? As in the fairytale kind? Existing? And in Belgium of all places?

"For all I know it's el Chupacabra," the police officer quipped with his cancer stick nested between his teeth. "I just know homicide found a bloodless body of a hobo in a back alley. Hell, it could even be just some medical school freak trying to prove everyone wrong by doing this... No, don't ask me why or how, baby cousin. It's just a guess. It was near your work place, by the way, so you may want to take an alternate route. There's a very good chance the motherfucker is still around there."

Fantasio wished it was just a so-called 'medical school freak' as he closed his eyes, clamped his palms against his ears, and frantically shook and whimpered in a huddled position like a petrified child. All he wanted was the noise of the mugger that had pointed a gun at him for his wallet squealing and screeching like a pig about to be slaughtered and what appeared to be bones cracking to stop. The trash can the blond repeatedly struck his back against formed a small dent when the sounds reduced to mere groans and finally, for a brief second, nothingness, before his whimpering and the other's heavy breathing took over again.

He quit shaking, lightened the seal on his ears. He felt the temptation to clamp his nose shut from the heavy iron smell wafting towards him, yet the fear he may need to press tighter against his ears won the battle. He kept his watering eyes shut. Fantasio whimpered more at the final break of a bone. At this point he didn't care if the flash of red that screeched and divided them spotted him. He just wished that it would finish what sounded like sucking something out of a straw, because it made his stomach want to flip.

His wish was swiftly granted. Apparently the same made the killer's stomach flip. To his surprise he didn't join the chorus while splashes of more iron and stomach acid hit the concrete.  And then, in between retches, some of which brought more disgusting vomit smells into the mix, crying. That was something Fantasio never expected to hear at the scene from someone else other than him. Slowly Fantasio opened an eye, then another.

The back alley became a blood bath. Blood red dyed  a good patch of the area, including the bricks of the buildings surrounding the place. The mugger, once a stocky man, was now in pieces like a broken action figure. An arm resting a good couple meters away from its rightful place, a leg dangled partly atop his torso.

Next to the torso was the mugger's killer. He huddled above him, crying and covered in blood. Fantasio could hear the monster saying something but could not make it out; his now what he was sure bloodstained gloves covered his face, and his mouth. The full moon that night, however, allowed him to get a good enough look at the monster's clothing...

Wait, he thought, only one person I know wears that...

"...Spirou?"

The thing's head turned. His co-worker, superior, and good friend's unmistakable face looked at him in panic, and with the most haunting glowing yellow eyes. Fantasio felt his blood chill. The blond opened his mouth. Before he spoke a syllable he heard police sirens and saw their lights.

Of course. Someone else inside one of the buildings sandwiching the alley had to have heard the struggles.  Fantasio turned once to see if one of the officers arriving was his cousin. Neither weren't. He turned his head again. Spirou was no longer around, at least on the ground. All three watched a moving object atop the right building jump away much like someone on a trampoline.

It wasn't even that hot that night but Fantasio could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his right temple. Whatever happened his life wasn't going to be the same after this. If he wasn't hallucinating then it was definitely his best friend. How didn't he know?

Then he remembered: the liberal use of sunscreen, the otherwise avoidance of the sun, the prone to sickness, the practically carnivorous diet, the weekly day off. It all made sense now. But... Why did he not know?

Spirou and I really need to talk about this tomorrow, Fantasio thought before responding to the first of many questions the officers threw at him.