Alrighty, for those of you who I don't know personally, I'm working on an idea for a graphic novel. This here is the test for what will be about chapter 3 or 4, so yeah, hope you like, and creative criticism is appreciated!

Bloodsuckers: Chapter 1.

"Can I offer you some tea?" The man in the robe asked to Clyde. Standing at about 6 feet tall, Gary Squires, towered over Clyde, who was sitting at the ornamental glass table. Across the table, sat the two car landing pad,with Mr. Squires' Kotari Esquire, a 6 figure hover car, which cost more then Clyde made in a year. "None." Clyde muttered. His head was pounding after last night, and tea certainly waesn't going to help. From Clyde's side, a cheerfull "For me, please!" echoed out. Dammit, Sven, why do you have to be so damn cheerfull? Clyde angrilly thought to himself. Sven was his assistant, a vamp. If the pointed ears didn't give it away, the fangs did.

The two men were at Squires' penthouse, as he claimed to have heard something the night before. What was there to hear? Well, for starters, a gunshot as Thomas Moore was capped in his apartment, once in the brainpan. Sven and Clyde were detectives, and had been hired by the Moore family to figure out why an ex-buisness man was killed, for apparantly no reason. Mr. Squires was the only person to hear anything.

Placing the tea on the table, Mr Squires pulled a chair from the opposite side of the table. His robe folded uneavenly as it formed to the plastic CeMax chairs, the latest in interior design, for those who could afford them. "You can't believe how shocked I am that this happened in our building." Squires began. "I can't fathom how the murderer got through security, and all the way to the 150th floor with a loaded weapon. Thomas, through not a personal friend, seemed to be a decent enough fellow." "Just how well did you know Mr. Moore?" Clyde inquired. "Coffee once or twice, nothing big."
"Anything special about him?"
"Nothing much. Except, a couple of days ago, he got a package. It made him quite destressed, though I can't begin to wonder why."
"He didn't tell you anything?"
"Not a thing."

It was just at that moment, that an Ajax delivery van pulled up to the landing silo. Turning to view it, Squires rose from his seat. 'Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must accept this delivery. I won't be a minuite." Turning, and walking away, he approached the glas panelled doors leading outside. Sven leaned over to Clyde. "We didn't find anything on our sweep of the house, package wise."
"You thinking what I'm thinking, Sven?"
"Unless you're thinking about noodles, then no. But, I think I have an idea."
"We may have a motive here."

Suddenly, the delivery man caught Clyde's eye. Why was he not wearing his Ajax hat? It was a manditory part of the uniform. Then the other piece of evidence that this wasen't a real delivery hit Gary Squires directly in the chest. A battery-operated percussion pistol, barrel smoking, had raised, and unleashed a bolt of pure energy into the man's chest, sizzling his skin. "Aw, hell." Clyde muttered.