Dexter stared across the dance floor towards his target. Isaak Sirko, 48; former leader of the Koshka Brotherhood. The feared gangster remained ignorant of the killer's presence as he danced around to the show tunes playing in the club. Leaning back against the bar, Ghost Harry suddenly appeared to Dexter's left.

"Gee, son…I haven't been to this place in years."

"You've been here before?"

Harry ruffled his brow and winked at the bartender. "You aren't the only one who had a hole inside him that needed filling occasionally."

"You mean like a…dark passenger…"

Dexter's eyes rolled back into his head and he came a little as he spoke his favourite words. Harry merely pointed at Sirko as he made his way into the toilets, flanked by two large looking European men.

"They must be Sirko's cronies."

Dexter finished his drink and stealthily made his way through the dancers and out of Harry's sight. The barman leaned over and shook his head, handing a beer to Harry, who took it with glee.

"Are you going to tell him you're actually alive?"


Outside the bar, Debra Morgan sat back in her car shaking. Ever since she had walked in on Dexter all those months ago her life had never been the same. What he had been doing…it all came flooding back to her.

"Dexter…are you here?"

"Oh, God! Deb! Get out!"

"Dex…are you masturbating? Wow…"

"Get out of my bathroom!"

Ever since that day, she hadn't been able to get Dexter out of her head. She loved him. She loved him more than any of the random guys she had gotten off with over the past few years. The old white guy. The young white guy who seemed slightly Latino. The black guy. The other young white guy. She prided herself in catering for all races down there.

A cough came from the passengers seat, and there he was. Deb's own dark passenger. James Doakes, convicted Bay Harbour Butcher, innocent man. Well, innocent corpse.

"What you doin' here, Morgan? I tailed this freak once…didn't end well for me."

"He's been inside that bar for half an hour now…lucky bar."

Doakes narrowed his eyes and flexed his muscles slightly. All of the muscles. "Damn it, Morgan; you shouldn't even be here. Your brother is a killer. You need to take this to Miami Metro."

Deb snorted; Doakes didn't understand. Nobody could. "I have taken this to Metro! Angel told me if God said I should bang my brother, then I had his blessing. Quinn cried and continued being largely redundant. Masuka just asked for pictures."

"And what about the black cop?"

"Which one? Mike?"

"Nah, the girl!"

"The girl black cop?"

The debate was interrupted as the door to the bar flew open. Dexter staggered out, holding his eyes and screaming in agony. He dropped to the carpark and clawed madly, before falling still.

Deb was out of the car before somebody could say, "But he's your brother", and ran to his hide. Doakes watched on as she pulled his hands away from his eyes and recoiled in horror.

"His eyes, mother fucker…"

To be continued…