By the light of the full moon, the vigilante crept towards Iwamatsu’s house stealthily, tactfully, hungrily. Blood would be spilt.
A twig cracked. The vigilante whirled. A growling werewolf, with glistening red eyes and white slobber, stood there, staring.
“W-What are you doing here?”
The werewolf wasn't pleased. “What I am doing here? What are you doing here?”
“I’m, uh, here to kill Iwamatsu,” said the vigilante.
“What? I’m here to kill Iwamatsu!”
“Oh,” said the vigilante. “Why, uh, are you wearing a cardboard Buger King Crown?”
The werewolf touched it self consciously. “Because. I’m King. King of the werewolves”
“Okay then.”
Awkard silence.
“On three then?” asked the werewolf.
The vigilante fingered the countdown. The two of them charged.
Two minutes later, the two of them walked back out of the house.
"Well, this is awkward," said the vigilante.
"Tell me about it," said the werewolf.