Spookhouse: Take Back the Night! Mission 2

Somewhere in London, 1946

Director Blackmore scratched the ruined socket of his stolen eye as he watched the last of the captured creatures wheeled into containment by a team of six burly men, each escorted by four men carrying Sten Guns and adorned in holy garments. Doctor Christmas has designed the creatures containment cells herself. Each one appeared to be a mere cube of glass, but tests had shown them to be shatter proof, bullet proof, fire proof, tempreture resistant, and able to contain everything from your standard hob-goblin all the way up to such horrific creatures as wraiths and poltergeists. Unfortunatly, no cell had yet been constructed that could house creatures of a powerful magical nature. Such a containment cell was still months away according to the R&D teams. Experiments with Christian prayers, Japanese straw dummy rituals, voodoo and houdoo magic, and even blood sacrafice had proved to be ineffective at containing magical influences. Director Blackmore scoffed. Magic creatures? Pah! Twenty years ago he'd been a bright colonel with a glorious career in the joint arm of O.S.S and British Intelligence. No he was playing ring master to this circus of fairy tale horrors, like a Grimm brothers story made flesh. Removing his snuff box, the director watched as a cage containing a naked young woman of stunning alien beauty was carted through the facilities cargo hold. Upon seeing the director the creature stroked slender hands over her full breasts provactively. Blackmore scoffed, snuffing some dried elderflower from his wrist. Upon being so blatently scorned, the creature's beautiful features vanish as she exploded from her place in the cell, slashing widely at the cage with bird like talons, hissing a high pitch shriek at the top of her lungs. Men with tanks on their back rushed forward and upon taking a long tube from the equipment on their back, inserted it into the cage and pumped a noxious looking gas into the glass prison, quickly subduing the creature. " Succubii." The Director grunted in sheer displeasure, turning his gaze to the information being projected onto the screen.


The images being flicked through were photographs from a dozen field teams. Ever since the successful first mission, Spookhouse had seen its funding triples, its allocation of manpower multiple ten times, and contact with other likeminded organisations had increased. As a measure of good will, the Vatican had sent a copy of the True Revelations to the Spookhouse HQ. The book contained the entire contents of the bible before the Vatican began controlling the content of the average Christian bible. Present within were the details of Enochs journey to heaven, the forty year war of Moses, The Chronicles of Caine, the only thing that had not been included was the final pages of the book of Revelations which according to Vaticans head exorcist could only be read 'By the completely insane, or the nearly dead.' This dubious gift was not however what concerned the Director. His gaze focused on the pieces of information on the situation in Siberia. He had dispatched his origional, and most successful field team to deal with the distress call. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he wrapped his one remaining hand around the railing. " Not the first time I've sent men and women to their deaths." He murmered, ignoring the bustle of activity behind him.






__________________________________________


Meanwhile, Thirty minutes away from Moscow, Russia, on the Lenin railway line.



It was the smell of rotting meat caught in his nostrils that awoke Stranger. A smell like bleach, but with the metallic tang of blood and riddled with a rotten egg essence. The small quarters on the private train blasting through a terrible blizzard to reach its destination was bitter cold, yet far colder than it should have been. Ice had formed on the inside of the cabin, across the table and creeping across the floor towards his feet. Stranger's gaze flicked behind his goggles, his hand easing for the pistol as a figure lumbered in through the closed door, passing through the wood as if it was as thin as air and settling its ragged form down on the couch across from him. The thing smiled, and Stranger felt himself filled with primal terror which forced him to swallow down rising bile.

Stranger stared at himself across the small carriage room. The thing that stared back was undoutably him. Dressed in the same slate grey suit, and wearing the same white shirt and pin-stripe waist coat beneath, yet something was off. The fedora hat sat buckled and lop sided, the coat smeared with mud and the heavy night vision goggles sat lop-sided, buckles and broken around the rims. One of the len's had come loose, and behind it was an ugly eye, dim with death and rolled back in his skull. The creature smirked, removing a flask from the coat pocket. Stranger sat up, mirrioring the action as he drew his own flask. While his flask was still a bright, shining stirling silver, the creature had a tarnished, bent flask. " Good day to you, herr Doktor. It has been far too long." Uncorking the flask with skeletal fingers , Death took a sip of the contents of the flask, swishing it around in his mouth, some of which leaked out the gaping wound in the flesh of his face. Stranger stared hard at the image of his own death, and despite his terror his hands were steady when he uncorked his flask, taking a deep, long drink. " Are you here to collect me?" He asked, his voice even. Death merely chuckled, shaking his head. Something fat and wriggling fell from his gory locks and scuttered under the seat. " No... Not today Mein good brother." Death croaked with a parched voice. " Baron Samedi has repayed his last favor, Lilith won't deal with you, and when has God ever shown interest in you? You've run out of favors to call...Friends to sacrafice. Now...Now its just... him down stairs." Death stamped his foot. " Or the endless black with me. Does the idea terrify you? Do you feel me at your back every time you go to sleep? Each night edging a little closer to your bed."

Stranger shifted in his seat, listening to the black words without a trace of interest, though his heart beat so hard and so loud he felt the team could hear it in their private quarters dotted along the train. " Don't waste my time with talk. Do your work or be gone." Death merely smiled, and upon noticing Stranger's flask was empty he chuckled. " Let me top you up." Leaning forward Death poured the contents of his flask into Strangers, grunting. " To your good health, my friend." Stranger felt a chill crawl up his spine, but accepted the drink without complaint. " And to yours." He replied dryly, sitting upright and taking a drink. Much to his pleasure it was only whisky within the flask. " You know...I've always admired you." Death rumbled. " So different from the usual lot... Those tedious die hards who prattle on and on about being 'survivors'...And that disgusting bunch of happy clappers with their ridiculous last wishes and bucket lists." Death chortled, brushing a finger over his, or rather Strangers mishapen lips. " Then...of course, You have that Ethunasia lot. Those...cowards who remind themselves how very brave they are while fleeing in terror for the exit, hoping to jump ship early." Death grunted, spitting something shrivelled and grey across the floor. " Opps...Chunk of lung. Not like you are taking care of those anyway." Removing a cigerette from his coat, Death sparked up, exhaling smoke through one nostril, the other having caved in. " Last of the old guard... All you can hope for is someone upon high remembers how useful you are. Or... you could always just sacrafice another friend. Who's it to be eh?" Death turned his gaze to the wall. " The American maybe? His heads so full of Uncle Sam and Apple Pie he wouldn't even see it coming. Would you miss him? Would your superiors?" Death smirked. " What about that little piece of skirt out there mh? You'd be surprised how many years of life someone down stairs would pay for her. Then again...Could just sacrafice one of the grand children couldn't you? How ar- oh thats right... They're the insurance to keep you working, ticking away like a good little cog. How is your daughter by the way?" Death grinned mockingly. " That's right...Dead, sorry...touchy subject. What about the wife?" Stranger rose to his feet and Death mimiced the gestured. " Thats right...Back in '92... Did I touch a nerve? Come on...Solve your problems the way you always do...With bullets and booze. Pull the trigger, be a good little soldier." The screetch of the trains sirens made both Death and Stranger turn their heads. " Oooh breakfast time... You best get going...Its the most important meal of the day. As for me...this is where I get off. Another family froze last night...I'd like to pick them up while they are steamy fresh." Death slouched passed Stranger, patting him on the shoulder as he went. " Once more into the breach, dear friends. You take care of yourself, Don't be a Stranger now." With that, death vanished leaviny only the faintest trace of grave dirt to mark his passing.


Exhaling slowly, Stranger wheeled to make sure the abomination was gone. Death had a poor sense of humor, and was at his funniest when a man was standing on the gallows. The words were designed to throw off his concentration, to fill him with terror. To give Death his due...In this he had done well. Stranger felt his lungs burning, acheing for the relief of cigerrette smoke. His hands shook and the whisky made his mouth taste dry and jagged. Quickly sparking up a cigerette Stranger left silently to join the team at the serving carriage.


The Stranger found himself at the table before any of the other team mates. A pair of young men were present dishing out platters containing all the components of a full english breakfast. Stranger ignored the plate and cutlery they placed before him, instead focusing on his cigerette, and quickly sparking up another when this one had finished. When team mates started arriving Stranger made a point of ignoring them, sitting in his self contained little world with only his thoughts for company. He was vaugely aware of the team eating and having their own conversations between each other, but didn't think all too much of it. Behind his goggles, steely eyes surveyed the survivors of his team. Each would be needed on this mission where the enemy was unknown, and the possibility for any sort of situation was present. This would be different from Scotland. It would not be so easily ogranised a situation. His gaze flicked to the doors at the front of the carriage as they slid open and a slender looking man in the uniform of a British Major strolled in, placing his hands behind his back. The major was fairly young and fresh looking, though ever inch of his skin as far as could be seen was etched with ritual tattoo's depicting the lesser key of Solomon. The circular patterns expanding over his skin, and forming a road map of lines on his face.


" Attention." He barked, waving for a projector at the back of the room to be switched on. When it did, the projector threw up plans of a small, fenced complex onto the carriage wall behind him. " As you know, we've received a distress call from one of our moles in the USSR. Doctor Leara Hemmingway. She was stationed here." The Major stepped aside, gesturing to the map. " Outpost thirteen, Siberia. A research facility which we believe has been accepting shipments of political prisoners from the local Gulag, for what purpose we aren't sure." The Major clicked a button and the projector shifted to display a picture of Doctor Hemmingway, an older women with iron grey hair and sharp, hawkish features. " The doctor was working on dissecting the work of the S.S Occult Warfare division for the U.S.S.R. This in itself is a director violation of the Accord of Nations, a treaty designed to police the use of the Supernatural. Doctor Hemmingway was sending us coded messages via radio, and we almost had enough to bring the U.S.S.R into account for her actions when the good doctors radio tranmissions became...erratic, babble. Three weeks ago she went us this." The Major gestured to one of the young men who hit play on a radio device. Static filled the room, broken only by a woman whispering " He walks behind the tree's." The sound hissed through the room then with a womans panting, vanished. The major lifted his head. " A week later...She sends us this." The radio was once again played, and once again static resumed on the radio broken by words which raised almost to the pitch of a scream. " The devil is at the gate!" The Major waved for the machine to be shut off as he removed a slip of paper from the folder. " Around the same time our telegraph machines and radio's went utterly hay wire. Most of its ruined, however...In each machines last transmission we found this...Its a section of obscure biblical text from the days of Moses and refers to the time in which Moses descended from upon high with the Ten Commandments only to find his people worshipping another God. It reads as such." The Major cleared his throat.



" Out of the Wilderness came the Dark Man
Wicked of intent, he spoke with authority
Even though the words of his tongue were black
Even the wisest were swayed, and fell thrall to him"



The major placed the paper behind his back, lifting his head to gauge the reactions of the group. " The 'Dark Man' is included in several cultures around the world. The Scottish refer to him as 'Fear Dumh' or 'The Black Man' and in Germany, tales of a creature known as 'Der Ritter' are also common. We believe this may be the devil refered to by the Good Doctor. Our occult theorists can't seem to decide exactly what this might be. Some say it could be the ancient God Samhain risen to the world by the carnage of the Second World War. Others suggest it might be just the returned spirit of Grigori Rasputin who has been reported several times in the area leering at young women through bedroom windows. Whatever the case your mission has three objectives. Number one is to locate, or at the very least discover the fate of Doctor Hemmingway and return her to British soil if at all possible. Second, aquire evidence of Russia's involvement in the weaponisation of supernatural forces. Lastly, identify the creature or creatures refered to as the 'Dark Man' and execute a Capture/Kill order. Miss Avi and Mister Stranger will decide the best course of action at the time." The Major grunted, shifting to click the projector. The image shifted to a handsome, scarred man wearing a dark suit getting out of a car. He appeared to be looking towards the camera.

" We are aware that this train stops miles short of your destination. Therefore, you will need to aquire other means of transportation. Our agency has been contacted by this man." The Major gestured to the projected image. " Dimitri Makarov, a former Gulag prisoner, ex Russian Special forces, and current leader of the Vory Vi Zakone, or...Russian mafia, if you like. He rules the Moscow underworld with an iron fist and is currently the most wanted man in the U.S.S.R. He specalises in arms deals and slavery, but recently may have turned to trafficking in occult materials. Virgins blood, hemlock, black candles...That sort of thing. He could well provide you with an alternative means of reaching the facility. He operates out of a bar in Central Moscow, the Wolf, Ram and Heart." Turning back to the team. " Make contact with him if you can, but remember...This man is a ruthless criminal. Terminate if he proves to be a problem." Shutting off the projector the Major surveyed the group as the train came to a rolling halt in a private section of railway mere minutes outside of Moscow. " Any questions?" The Major waited for a moment before grunting. " You have your orders. Procede to the armory section of the train, gather your equipment and remember... Russian authorities are not aware of your mission here. This is strictly wet work, keep a low profile and stay out of the hands of the police, and the KGB. Good luck." With that, the Major left with a sharp salute, leaving the team to ponder their next mission.

Sitting in his cold compartment, in this cold car, on this cold train; Stuart Parsons was..well. you can guess. Aside from freezing, he was mostly content, he now realized that some of his jingoism and confidence in his abilities and weapons from the last mission had gotten him trouble with the others, more specifically The Strange Man or "Stranger" their leader. He was loathe to get involved in that mess, again. he had respect for the man's ability to lead and command a team...even if it was...a bit harsh, at times. But, life had moved on and now they were close to their mission site, about to again, go into the depths of Hell itself and see see what daemonic entities they could fuck with. it made for fun times. There's no other lot I'd rather go with, though, honest. Stuart thought as he stared out at the whiteness and snow that engulfed his window, making vison out past maybe five feet from the train utterly hopeless. It was probably all trees anyway, and he'd more than seen his share of those last time. The sniper was not eager to see more, even if it was winter.

He'd also been writing in a journal, nothing biographical by any stretch, and no poems because he was utter rubbish at those, just some random musings, filled with curses and notes about the cold or the fact that Russian trains sucked. He'd decided he wouldn't be keeping the journal up, it was something to do to pass the time; when eh wasn't sleeping anyway. The Englishman put a hand through his short blonde hair and heard the loud horn that signaled breakfast was ready. "It's about fuckin' time, I'm bloody starvin' 'erre he grumbled as he made his way out of his compartment or "quarters" and towards the serving car. Stuart noticed that Stranger was ahead of him and had already made it into the car and remained sitting at a table. He had a faraway look in his eyes, and for once, the sniper let it pass, saying nothing about his disposition and only greeting him with,"Mornin' Boss. before he meandered over to the table full of biscuits, juices, teas, muffins, and various meats, and began filling his plate.

Stuart took a seat at the far end of the table and noticed a projector situated at one end of the room, which meant a briefing would occur shortly. Stuart certainly hoped that the other members would arrive soon enough. he was totally looking forward to Avi's appearance especially, he felt he had a bit of a score to settle with her. He thought about saking Stranger where the others were, but decided against it. The man clearly was in his own little world, and Stuart felt it best to leave him there. Thus, he began to eat and drink, greeting each team member as they came in with a cheerful smile and a "Mornin' Ho'w'd ya sleep? though there were a few exceptions. To Winters specifically, he added yank, becuase...it fit, he supposed. To Avi, and only Avi, his grin turned a little maniacal and he said,"I believe you still owe me a kiss from the chess game you lost , so eh..I'm right 'ere whenever you're ready to pay up." Stuart had no real expectation that she'd actually kiss him, he just liked to see her get all angry about it, it would make his morning. That was, if she didn't end up spilling something on him first. Or throwing a hot liquid in his face; he never could quite tell with her. To Bryon, he gave a quiet,"So...how 'bout these Russian ladies? You thinkin' what I'm think'? though again, he had no expectation that Bryon would actually be thinking what he was...then again what the hell is he thinking? was a question that Stuart asked himself, and often had no answer for. Song got the standard greeting though, because though she'd only sort of appeared on the first mission, Stuart did not know her well enough, nor feel quite comfortable enough around her, to truly converse with her at length, as he did the others. Stuart did, though, almost refer to her as Songbird, but he stopped himself, fearful of offending her.

Stuart , when conversations were done, stiffened to attention and saluted the Major, whom he vaguely recognized but could not place the name of. He watched the slideshow and immediately thought, when he first heard the good Doctor's name, I bet she's a hot fox but upon seeing her picture kept that though to himself. To him, it seemed simple enough, make contact with a known criminal, get some wheels from him and then eliminate him; move on, find the Doctor, the info, and the creature, and capture or kill it. Easy in, easy out. But, with this team especially, things ere not that easy. When the Major had left, and Stuart could relax he commented,"Boss, if I could just make a suggestion. I say we kill this Dmitri chap right after we get what we need. The less questions he asks about us, the better. If you want...i'll do it. Just, give me a signal or a word for whatever and he's gone. something in the back of Stuart's mind signaled that his guy was all bad news, and the less time and exposure he had with them, the better. Of course, this plan would only work if he could find either cover or a high place from which to snipe. Stuart sighed and thought about this plan, if the Boss approved it, of course. When everyone had said what they needed to, with respect o the mission, Stuart got up and headed for the Armory car, to grab his equipment and gear up.

Song awoke with a jolt that had nothing to do with the train. She had been dreaming again. Her nightclothes were soaked with sweat and she was shivering, even under the multiple layers of blankets she had procured from one of the nice train attendants the night before. “B-b-bollocks!” she snapped, teeth chattering, and watched her breathe vaporize slightly, it was so cold in her room. She knew it wasn't a nice word, but she had heard some of the British Spookhouse team members use the word when they were annoyed, and it seemed appropriate for the moment. Curling into a ball under her pile of blankets, Song focused on steadying her heartbeat and breathing, which were frantic from the nightmare she'd been having. She didn't remember much, only that she had been terrified, and that someone she knew had been there. Perhaps Agent Stranger, the hostile, calculating leader of the team onto which she had been drafted in a multi-national project aimed at fighting the dark forces of the world. Her first mission under Stranger's leadership, while it had been successful, had opened her eyes to the utter depravity of evil which existed out there and preyed on the innocence of mankind, and it was a reality she was still coming to grips with. So far, her sleep had suffered most, and she had formed almost permanent dark bags under her eyes from the nightmares.

Giving up on the possibility of getting warm again, Song gritted her teeth then threw off the blankets and swung hastily out of bed, grabbing clothing from her bag. She had brought only one outfit from Tibet with her when she had left, adhering to the principles of spare living she had grown up with, but her ascetic intentions had actually proven to be rather short-sighted, the first mission rendering her only outfit to rags by the return. Her “handler” back at headquarters had done her best to comply with Song's need for more clothing, but the short notice between this mission and the next had prevented her finding anything more suited to the young Indo-Tibetan woman's comfort than several dresses of British fashion with form-fitting bodices that made Song feel self-conscious and out of place. Today she pulled out a long-sleeved sailor-looking thing, and grimaced. But the cold was pressing, and she shrugged into it, pulling on a fur-lined coat over it and turning up the collar. She also pulled on high socks, the military boots she had been issued and some mittens and a hat for good measure. She tucked the frayed braid she had put her hair back into the night before into the hat and turned to examine herself in the mirror. She grimaced again. Somehow, she had managed to take the English fashion and make it look utterly preposterous, and though she had no idea how to fix it, she was sure that that Stuart-man on the team would smirk when he saw her. Well, so be it. At least she would cause her teammates some amusement. Goodness knew they could use it, headed as they were, back out to knock on death's door again.

Song made her way out into the dining car, and found several of her teammates already gathering. There was Stranger, tucked away at a table by himself, his hunched form shrouded by a cloud of cigarette smoke and hostility that effectively isolated him from his troops. There was Agent Stuart, greeting people in his easy manner as they walked in. She saw him acknowledge her, and while he only said her code name, “Song”, she caught the “-Bird” part slip from his mind unbidden, and she frowned, confused. Songbird? Why would he think of her as a bird? Perhaps, she realized, it was because of her habit of “moon-jumping”--using her powers to glide almost weightlessly over short distances, which probably looked a lot like flying. She certainly didn't sing, not even speaking much: she had only barely begun to understand most of her teammates accents-- when they spoke in English anyway, and her own English was still embarrassingly awkward. She was often still forced to rely on an unobtrusive bit of telepathy to get their full meaning, especially when they were excited. She shook her head, shrugging mentally. She was unsure of the man's humor, and didn't know if he was complimenting or teasing her with that thought. Regardless, he didn't seem to have noticed her awkwardly pieced together attire, so that was a blessing. Though, she did note, almost everyone else in the car was considerably less bundled than she. Perhaps they were more used to the cold. For her part, even with a hot cup of tea now making its way to her belly, she could hardly stop shivering.

She piled her plate high with any vegetarian options she could find, avoiding the bacon and sausage out of deference to the Dalai Lama's teachings, and carried the tray back to the table where another agent on the team was quietly eating. Nodding politely to them, Song sat and began to eat and finish her tea, looking up only to smile at Avi when she entered, and when the Major began his presentation.

Song paid close attention to the briefing, managing to glean most of the man's meaning without having to tap into his surface thoughts for translation. Her comprehension of spoken English really was coming along nicely, if she dared to compliment herself. She kept her mental fingers on the team's emotional pulse as well, trying to gauge from their reactions how she should feel in regards to this new mission. As the Major wrapped up his briefing, she stifled a yawn, rubbing her eyes, and quietly stood to refill her mug of tea.

Byron was pleased that they had all been given private rooms, he was not sure how much of his companions he would be able to stand. It was a long way from London to Moscow and he found the familiarity did indeed breed contempt, especially when dealing with such unbalanced individuals. If he was being completely truthful Raven wasn't even that fond of his own company, it was sometimes very crowded inside of his head. He was sat on the edge of the bed looking into a mirror and trying to shave but every time that he got close to his throat with the straight razor the train would wobble. So taking the hint he put the razor back into its holder and then back into his pack, it looked like he was going into the mission with a full set, at least he would blend in. When everything was stowed away Byron wondered over to the small glass tumbler, and large bottle of clear liquid, that where sat on the small table by the window. As he was in Russian the bottle was full of Vodka and the scene outside the window was of a blizzard, he had never spent much time in Russian and he was wishing it was a habit that he wasn't about to break. Byron had been trained to fight in any condition but it had been the winter training that he had hated the most, he just hated being cold. As the memories of his training began to stir in the back of his mind, he threw the strong spirit in the tumbler down his throat and savored the burning sensation that ran down his throat.

Byron put the glass back down onto the table, pushed it to one side and pulled his new firearm out of its holster and put it on the table. Since the encounter with the Lycans in Scotland he knew that he was going to have to upgrade his armory. He had chosen to replace his old Webley revolver for a new Browning semi-automatic pistol, its thirteen bow magazine of 9mm rounds was a lot more practical than the old five shot revolver. The 9mm was a smaller round than the Webley's but it had nearly three times as many and Byron wasn't the best shot in the service. Also, with some reluctance, he had let the boffins at Spookhouse update his cane and garrote. They had told exactly what they had done but all he had cared about was the fact that they said they would do more against the supernatural, he had filed everything else away for later use. Byron quickly disassembled the pistol, checked it all over and then reassembled it again, the weapon was new and well made, so it was only out of habit that he stripped the weapon. He slid a clip into the pistol, raked back the slide and placed the pistol on the table, just in case. With his weapons checked he went about preparing his body, as he had gotten older he had found that he needed to do more to keep himself in shape, so Byron went about his morning routine of push ups, chin ups, squats and lunges. When he was happy that he had done all that he was going to do with the train wreck that was his body, he puts his clothes back on, put the pistol in his holster, picked up the Vodka and headed for the dining car.

Swaying in time with the slight rocking of the train he swaggered down to where they had been having their meals for the last few days. The food was good enough and the staff on the train had always been happy to produce any volume of Vodka that he asked for. The food was already out when he arrived, he picked up a plate loaded up with some toast and eggs, found a place to sit down and tucked in too breakfast. When he was finished he took out one of his cheap greasy cigars, lit a match and proceeded to fill his immediate area with acrid smoke. He was in the middle of taking another swig when Parsons came over,

"So...how 'bout these Russian ladies? You thinkin' what I'm think'?

Byron had really had much to do with the Sniper but he was on a the upward peak of his usual mental roller coaster, so he thought that he would answer the ridiculous comment,

That they are large, hairy and pickled in Vodka, just like their men ya mean?

Even if no one else thought the comment was funny it brought a little smile to his face, something that didn't happen very often.

When breakfast was finished he listened in on the briefing with everyone else, he absorbed as much information as he could but he knew that he was going to need to look over some maps of this region. Byron was incredibly intelligent and had an excellent memory but even he needed to do some homework once in a while, as the groups default scout he would need to have an excellent working knowledge of the local area but he knew that he was going to have to rely on some of the others in the group to communicate with the locals, being as he only knew some of the more colorful words in the Russian language. He looked over at Parsons again as he spoke, he quite liked the idea of putting a couple of bullets into the brain base of whatever this 'Dark Man' was, he wondered if it would bleed black.

Silence.

Avi paused at the absence of sound; she could feel prickling sensations all over from her arms to her bare toes. Silver eyes glanced down at the sink; they narrowed at the confirmed sight of water running from the pipes. Not even running water made a sound. Sure of the signs; she made slow cautious steps from the cramped bathroom to the door leading to the hallway. As she leaned forward, a faint squeak from the old wood floors. For a reason she wasn’t sure of at first, her vision stayed low to the floor. She would have rose her sight, but found herself unable. It wasn’t until something crossed the halls. At first, Avi assumed it was jóképű, after all the grey suit she had seen him in before. But from the moment she spotted the fabric, she knew something wasn’t right. Frozen as she was, both hands over the door, eyes following the feet of whatever force as it moved, the only thing that wasn’t still was her heart. It raced as she realized just what she looked upon.

Death.

The phantom stopped for a brief moment, long enough to chuckle; Avi assumed he spotted her peeking out of the room, finding it amusing no doubt. She felt instant disgust at herself, acting like a child peeking out of her room. For a split second she thought about daring to meet Death’s stare. The idea didn’t stay a moment longer. She wasn’t afraid of death per say, she did fear who was it that would be meeting him soon. Silver eyes followed his shape as he vanished into nothing. It was then did she finally pick up her glaze to the room Death slipped into; jóképű's room.

As his presence faded, sounds of the train, the running water in the sink, and the sound of her heart pounding against her chest. Bare feet slowly slid across the cold wooden floors as she made her way to jóképű's door. It was her intention to step in, demanding to know what was going on. However the voices on the other side made her pause once more. While she wasn’t able to make out what was being said, it was obviously a conversation. The temptation to open the door still was great and growing by the moment. Her hand rose for the doorknob..

“Avi! Avi!”

Jerking from the door, Avi twisted her body towards the high pitch voice from the bathroom.

“Avi!”

Ales, a ten year old African Grey parrot and the newest bird to Avi’s collection of pets, screeched out, calling out for her as he wobbled on short legs towards her. At first she felt annoyed being disturbed, but it was quick to melt away at the site of her beloved pet trying to catch up to her.

“Mea infantem” She sighed, shaking her head as she made her way back into the bathroom, Ales following behind, “I told you to stay in here.”

The parrot said nothing as he stayed close on her heels. Once they both stood in the bathroom, Avi closed the door one last time and locked it. She tested the knob, making sure it wouldn’t come open. With another sigh, she glanced over the mirror over the sink. Her hair was still up in a bun soaked with red dye, eyes free from the horror of the green contacts, a scar from her cheekbone that disappeared under her hairline. Leaning close to the mirror, she traced the scar with her fingers, still awed by the mark.

“Scar, a mark left on skin from not incomplete healing…”

She smiled at the interesting pattern of the mark, wasn’t at all dimmed out that it was so publicly visible. Turning around, her back now facing the mirror, she lift her black tank top up enough to see ten small scars, no more than an inch or two in length, around her back. She stared at them for a moment, remembering the creature… Veronica. The memory of the claws digging into her back to throw Avi off the creature’s shoulders; these scars weren’t so interesting in her opinion.

A high whistle from below tore her eyes from the image of imperfect skin to the parrot below. Avi rose a brow as the bird whistled again at her, “I can step on you any time and make it look like an accident, Ales.”

As if knowing what she said, Ales bowed his head down, almost looking ashamed and knew he was in trouble. Avi couldn’t help but to smile at him, deciding he had enough punishment, she leaned over to stroke his head with a finger. Seeing that he was satisfied with the attention she gave, Avi stood back up, smoothing out her top before returning facing the mirror. It was time to wash out the dye. Once the slick residue was washed out, the hip long locks were braided over her shoulder, still wet. She frowned at the odd shade of red her hair looked. If she didn’t know better, it looked darker, not just because it was wet…

Tired of dealing with the stench of dye and not willing to waste energy getting angry with the shade, Avi reached for her clothing resting on the floor.

By the time Avi made her way to the Serving carriage, most of the team members had arrived and started their meal. She was dressed in very typical Avi clothing; a long sleeve dark blue shirt, dark brown vest with the chain of the silver pocket watch gleaming in the light, matching brown leather pants, and knee high lace up combat boots. Nothing out of the ordinary other than her darker red heir and Ales on her shoulder, bobbing his head left to right. Since they left the head quarters, Avi had found the bird among many others in her possession arrived safely and even though the officers said she couldn't take him with her to Russia, she still snuck him out. Ever sense, the two hardly could be seen without the other. There had been a time or two Avi announced she believed Ales had more sense then the members of spook house and was her only companion that could respond without looking like an idiot, save for dear Song of course. It was clear she cared for the bird, and it cared for her.

It seemed as though everything was normal, the food plate with pilled with Avi's favorite fruit, which was all she seemed to eat, and so far no smart comment from Stu-

"I believe you still owe me a kiss from the chess game you lost , so eh..I'm right 'ere whenever you're ready to pay up."

With the plate full of precious food and suddenly the mother of all migraines at the edge with his smart ass comment, Avi sent a glare his way which told of unspeakable horrors that would become of him if there weren't people in the room to stop her. How sweet would it be to pull each tooth out, one by one, stuff a lemon in there while working at pulling off his finger nails. Then after that, saw his beloved guns in half in front of his eyes. Instead, she allowed a mocking smile to play over her lips as she spoke softly, a true terrifying look over her face as she spoke slowly, for his ill wit to catch up to the threat she gave, "Of course, fy ngelyn, I'll give you a kiss. Best yet, I'll help you with holding your gun to your face and while you kiss that hole I'll pull the trigger and we'll see how big of an explosion two lovers can make, yes?" At the end of her sentence her smile faded, replaced with a frown and her brows drawn together as she marched away from him, grumbling to herself. Still on her shoulder, Ales turned his head towards the sniper, replying him with a "Shut up, Stu! Shut up, Stu!"

Avi never could love that bird more than she did at that moment.

Seeing Song, a honest small smile tilted her lips at the young girl. However it vanished as she placed a guard around her mind, as she always had to do around her in fear what Song would see and learn. It was for the best. However her mood was soured at the sight of the tired look over the girls eyes. Nightmares? Balancing the bowl in one hand, Avi placed her free hand over Song's shoulder, "You need to fight away those memories, Song." Knowing it was easier said than done, she sighed, smoothing Song's hair from stray pieces that fell from place. She didn't know what else to tell her. An idea popped up in her head, an honest smile carried over her lips, "I may have just the thing for you. I'll give you it when we reach Russia tomorrow night, yes? You will love it. Now, be sure to eat well, I'm sure it will be a while for a hones-" Seeing Song's plate full of food, Avi nearly laughed, "Never mind, you are taking care of yourself. Good. Here, take care of Ales for a bit, he's a bit needy today." Lowering her shoulder to Song's, Avi waited for the Grey parrot to side step from one shoulder to another. As he rested on Song's shoulder, he made a purr like noise, bobbing his head side to side. "I have to go look after the baby real quick." She whispered to Song, glaring towards their leader who seemed to be very much alive and in a pouting mood. With a sigh, and a shake of her head, Avi returned to the serving table, piling up bacon, pancakes, and a biscuit onto a plate.

Looked like he would be alive for a moment longer...

Great. More nagging from him. More smelling that awful cigaret. More smart comments.

After rolling her eyes, the plate of warm food in hand and the fruit in the other, Avi made her way to the dark one.

"Jóképű. Is there a reason why you are in time out today? Perhaps not eating any proper food?" The plate clanked loudly as she nearly tossed it infront of Stranger, the sweet smell of warm bread and a healthy start to the day that normally made men happy and please, would no doubt bring her jóképű hissing and running in another direction. "Oh look! The Gods have parted the heavens and sent you something you can live off of." Sitting in the chair across from him and setting her bowl on the table, ignoring any protest given by him. But she knew this man far too well, she knew he would spat some smart remark how he would rather do this or that. Tell her to piss off. Bleh, bleh, bleh.

"If you don't finish your plate," A full pack of his smokes happened to 'magicly' appear in her hand, "No cigs. Don't you hate it when that happens? Eat."

Already knowing she would win, Avi ignored any other remark made by jóképű to start on her own food. If there was something she would love for the rest of her life, it was fruit. Best thing to come out from the earth and placed in front of her. Who knew how long it would be until she would be able to eat them again during this mission.

As the briefing began, Avi didn't bother looking up, she kept most of her attention to the food, and making sure jóképű was acturally eating the food, and not just shifting it to the side. She was no simpleton, she could hear and eat at the same time. Whenever a picture of the doctor and russian mafia boss popped up, Avi was sure to glance over, taking a moment to memorize their features before returning to her bowl.

The dark man was a name that was given to many shades and creatures. To be able to pinpoint which creature it may or may not have been would be one that would be a waste of time and thought. Fact was she needed more clues. Moving through or behind trees, what creature didn't do that, for crying out loud Avi did that multiple times in the last mission. However the description brought up to compare him to was to her, unnerving. For a moment she paused her chewing, pondering for a moment. Everything was too vague. Glancing over towards jóképű, she studied him, curious about if he did or did not have an idea what the creature could be. Likely not.

"Boss, if I could just make a suggestion. I say we kill this Dmitri chap right after we get what we need. The less questions he asks about us, the better. If you want...i'll do it. Just, give me a signal or a word for whatever and he's gone"

Was that his answer to everything?

Hey, we need a truck, lets kill a driver!

Avi groaned at Stu's silly suggestion was bound to cause more trouble than needed. At first, she didn't see too many flaws behind his plan to kill off the Russian, but then something stuck to her. He man possibly deals with a lot of paranormal trafficking. Who knows what he's heard or learned. "Maybe we see how he acts first, what he may know. Think about it, he deals with these creatures, he is their supplier. What if he knows about suspicious activity? Maybe even heard something about this... Dark Man? Above average deals in dark magic ingredient? Perhaps this human can be of use now and in the future? But there is always the question of how willing he is." As she made her point, she glanced over to the others, acknowledging each of them officially. Stu, however, was given a glare, of course as was expected. She still thought he cheated in the chess game, he had to. There was no way she could have lost to that... that... gun humper! There is no way!

As Tia watched the world pass by her eyes upon this strange contraption. A train was it not? That was what the men who came to her called it. She was not a fan of it, whatever it was called. It was disconnected from the spirits. However, the men made a good point. As much as she disliked the world outside her Bayou. The forces at work were threatening the spirit world. Those who used these relics were affecting this world, interrupting the natural order and bringing chaos to balance.

This could not be allowed.

So Tia allowed these men to bring her outside her world, her Bayou. She still carried the title granted to her by the good people of Louisiana, the Bayou Queen. She found the world outside her home quite odd. Many seemed to be very concerned over the colour of her skin. She was not sick, nor did she even know of these people. The agents who sat across from her had been escorting her from the United States. They were very nice, both carried the air of the spirits around them. She wished she had more time to let them know the spirit world was not something to fear. Yet they'll fine out soon enough.

"Queen, we've given you a dossier on your fellow operatives for this mission. Please understand outside the Bayou, your powers are something rare. Please use caution and follow the instructions your given."

Tia tilted her head, as if the agent spoke nothing but gibberish to her. "The spirits are who I follow. I'm here to put those who abuse the spirit world to rest."

The second agent, a portly man who Tia healed back in the States raised his hands to placate the Witch Doctor. "Tia, what he means is if you raise the dead in the middle of a bar. You're going to draw more attention to yourself then you'd want. Use discretion," the man paused for a moment. "Sorry for asking, but how can you cast your spells without a body to raise?"

Tia gave an awkward smile, she reached into a leather pouch draped off her hip. Withdrawing an animal skull that seemed to have a red gem and some vines draped around it she replied. "The spirits travel with me, as the Bayou. If I need it's aid, it will grant me what I require. I thank you for the herbs I've requested. You were very precise on what I've requested."

The pudgy man nodded, "after what you've done for me back in Louisiana, I'm not going to cut corners. Maybe you should meet your comrades. I believe they are eating right now. We've got to contact our superiors with the news you've chosen to become part of the team. One more thing Miss Lebeaux, don't forget your coat when you depart. The climate here may be a little unfamiliar to you."

Tia stood from her seat, carefully ensuring her relics were all properly fastened to her lithe body. "I shall, take care gentlemen. May the spirits protect you."

As Tia walked through the cramped train, she felt a voice slither in the back of her mind. "You help these fools?"

Tia sighed as she withdrew a small skull from another pouch. "Yes, there are forces that want to undo your work. Am I to stand by idly and watch this happen?" The skull chuckled softly as it replied.

"No, I expect the problem to be joining us in the spirit world. Where we can dispense proper justice. The two men back there, you didn't tell them about their fate?"

Tia bit her lip, she knew it was against their laws to give anyone a glimpse into the otherside. "No, if it is their time. Who am I to change that?"

The skull seemed to become pacified, "Good; for now follow their instructions. If something interferes with the spirit world you are to uphold our laws first. Understood?"

Tia gasped as the skull became red hot in her hands, "Yes! Yes! Of course!" The skull became cold in her palm, signifying the spirit had left the relic. Placing the bone back into her pouch she continued to the dinner cart. Several guests seemed quite alarmed at her presence, even commenting about cargo being allowed on the train. Tia paid them no heed as she looked upon a small child.

The girl was flushed, her tiny hands trembling as she tried to keep the blanket draped about her shoulders. The mother tried to help steady her daughter as she looked at Tia. "I'm sorry maam, my daughters very sick. She's not contagious if that is what you're worried about." Tia smiled softly as she knelt beside the child. This was not the poor girls time, yet.

"It is not that Miss, I am sorry your daughters sick. I have some medicine that would make her train ride much calmer if you would like." The woman looked at Tia for a moment, in suspicion before accepting.

As Tia reached into her pouch, she muttered a few syllables in Creole. It was an incantation to force sickness from the child, she placed the mint leaves in the tiny child's hands. There was a tremble of heat as she touched the sick child. By the time they reached the destination, the girl would be better. She smiled softly to the girl as she stood up.

"I hope your daughter gets better soon." She gave a small bow as she continued to walk. She felt a little guilty about not telling the mother about her daughters cure. Yet this was far from home, and her magic may not be heard of. Nor welcomed. It was better to let the cure come of it's own.

As Tia reached the train, she was greeted by many wonderful smells. There were several individuals who were already there, chatting pleasantly amongst themselves. Tia took two portions of food, careful to choose food to honour the spirits and to nourish herself. She took an empty chair as she examined the others. They were all outside the spirit world, very curious.

"Greetings, my name is Tia Lebeaux. As I understand, you are the Spook House? Strange how you talk so casually of the spirits...I am here to assist as needed."

Winters rose from bed last, his sleep dreamless yet still giving him the energy he needed to function at his prime, even if he'd only slept four hours. He sat up from his cot, his eyes taking stock of everything in the room. He finished his little sweep of the room as his gaze ended on his Thompson, loaded with a brand new ammo drum instead of the standard issue mags he used in the mission prior. After the incident with that...abomination at the castle, he knew he needed more time firing and less time reloading.

"Give 'em hell or give 'em nothing." Winters mumbled to himself, as his mind drifted back to that horrific fight with the giant werewolf. If it hadn't been for Song, he wouldn't have survived, but even she couldn't stop what happened to Harry...

"Dammit!" Winters growled, slamming his fist into his dresser, an audible bang resounding from it. His room was the farthest off and by the sounds of it, his fellow team mates were already up and about. Regaining his composure, Winters grabbed his M1911 from under his pillow and put it in it's holster, opening his door while simultaneously slipping on his worn jacket from the Corps.

The cold was biting, but it didn't bother Winters that much, as all that mattered now was getting some food in his belly and getting this latest mission underway. When he reached the food car, he could see pretty much everyone was here already. Song had a big plateful of fruit in front of her, as did Avi, which was common place. His CO, Stranger, seemed to be even more distant than usual, but the marine still saluted to him as he passed by to grab a plate of sausage and biscuits. Stuart had that smile of his he usually had after pushing one of Avi's buttons, as was usual, and Raven had gotten into the liquor already. He decided to sit himself near Song, who even though they had had some time inbetween missions, he still didn't know that well. The main reason was more due to the fact Winters still found himself wrestling over what happened to Harry, but that was no fault of Song's so he needed to put in the extra effort to not put a divide between the two of them.

"A good morning to you, mam, lovely weather we're havin' don't you agree?" Winters said with his trademark happy smile, which never seemed to dim no matter what happened. He noticed a man in uniform enter the room, realizing he hadn't eaten anything yet, and wolfed down his plate as quickly as he could. His eyes flicked to Song, causing a wave of embarassment to wash over him for his poor table manners. He shrugged his shoulders and flashed a sheepish smile, just as the officer began giving briefing for the mission.

All in all, Winters had almost no idea what the tatted up Brit had been going on about, but the main idea was easily grasped by the marine. They had to rescue this agent of theirs if possible, while watching out for this "Dark Man" which sounded like one a comic villain from the newsstands back home in the Bronx. Winters was still playing catch-up on all the supernatural stuff, but surprisingly enough Avi had been kind enough to explain certain things to him, though he knew his slow understanding of the concepts probably infuriated her to no end. Still, he felt he was less likely to be stabbed by the young woman than say, Stuart. Speaking of, Stuart popped off some remark, but Winters wasn't paying attention to him really, as his attention moved to Stranger waiting for whatever incite he could give to the squad.

However, his attention was pulled elsewhere by the latest member of their team. Winters smiled that bright grin of his, as he welcomed her to the group.

"Pleased to meet you, Tia, my names Mike Winters, but most just call me Winters. Let me be the first to say, welcome to the team!"

Major Chapter ran his tongue over his teeth as he surveyed the field team before leaving. The team currently had the highest success rate, and the most attached assets of any Spoohouse field team. In support was fully one third of Spookhouse's intelligence staff, an army of informants and spies, twelve gun smiths, forty priests and holy men of various creeds and Gods, a science team to rival the Manhatten project, and a ridiculous amount of pound sterling. All of these things were used just to get the team from A to B without any problems, equip them for their mission, and support them while they carried it out. It seemed almost ridiculous that such a small team should merit such backing, but then of the field teams Spookhouse, and her sister organisations had at their command this was by far the most effective. The next runner up in terms of field team had returned to their head quarters at the Vatican city mere days before with only three members of a nine man team that left for Milan a week ago, all for one measly Dragonbat. Looking over the group, Chapter couldn't quite pick up on what made them so sucessful. They appeared to be nothing more than a rag tag bang of sociopaths and social rejects. They must have had the devils luck so far. Major Chapter ran his marked hand over his inked face, muttering a silent prayer for the team under his breath as he departed.

Throughout the meal and the briefing to follow Stranger kept to himself. He was not idle. His time was spent in the many little rituals he preformed before a mission, checking his pistols, carving a cross into the tip of every bullet, throwing salt over both shoulders, and all the other quirky, and apparently useless rituals which had become habit. Stuart's comment registered in his mind a few seconds after the Sniper had uttered it, and while Avi gave him a good tongue lashing Stranger turned his gaze to him. The thick brass goggles giving him a bug-eyed appearance. " The Vory Vi Zakone have three golden rules." He rumbled, feeding bullets into an empty clip one by one. " Bow to no-one even under pain of death." Compressing the bullets with his thumb, Stranger racked up another one. " Never earn an honest wage. Take, or steal every single penny." Tapping the clip on the table Stranger slid it into his forty five, pulling back the slide and chambering a round before placing it inside his shoulder holster. " Always take revenge for a fellow Vor." Repeating the ritual with his other pistol, Stranger fell silent in contemplation. Dimitri was a means to an end, but also a problem. Spookhouse had to keep its secrets closely guarded. Vor were secretive in their own way, but would sell the secrets of another if they could. " When we arrive at the club, take Winters and establish a base of fire with a line of sight into the main office. It'll be the big one facing out onto the street. If trouble kicks off, shoot every man with tattoo'ed hands you see." Exhaling from his cigerette, Stranger lifted his head, noting the other members of the team, gauging their abilities as best he could, carefully calculating each mans talents. Winters and Stuart were both military men, and the more talented marksmen on the team. Winters could surpress any number of armed men from a good position with his thompson, and Stuart would deliver the killing shot wherever it needed to go. Raven was a more difficult member of the team to gauge. His pistol, and his talents in hand to hand would be more suited inside the club. Little Song was more of a grey area. She could be useful outside or in. His finger tips tapped on the table as he glared at her through his goggles. While the black tinted glass would hide exactly where his eyes fell, someone as sensitive to thoughts as Song would feel the intense hostility radiating from Strangers thoughts. It was just that ability to sense the feelings and thoughts of others that made her so useful. She'd be able to give pre-warning of any violence, and put her powers to devastating use inside a crowded club. Stranger either didn't notice, or didn't bother commenting on the poor girls worn look, her nightmares taking a heavy toll on her. Instead he merely grunted.

" Byron and Song will enter the club by the main entrance. Scout the place out and try to get eyes on Dimitri, or any of his hired muscle." The Stranger's usually stone cold, emotionless expression twisted into a grimance when he realised who that left him with. The fluttering creature who seemed content to nag him to death. He was about to speak when Avi forced a plate of food under his nose, holding his smokes hostage untill he ate. The leather glove covering Strangers right hand creaked as his hand balled into a fist. Removing the ciggerette from his lips Stranger ate the egg from the plate without enthusiasim, leaning forward to snatch his cigerrettes back. " You, and I will enter through the side door." With that, Stranger removed the half smoked cigerrete from his mouth and snubbing it out in Avi's plate, right in the middle of her food. " Don't touch my smokes." He rumbled, pushing himself to his full height and taking another stick from the pack, placed it between his lips.

The Strangers head turned as the door opened, and Tia revealed herself to the group. An irked look flashed across his face. He wasn't expecting any fresh replacements for his team, and didn't want any. Stranger exhaled a cloud of msmoke that swiftly rose to join the sour smelling cloud from Raven's cigar. Stranger moved his hand to his pocket, pulling clear the arcane old pocket watch and flipping it open. Much as he expected, the hands on the dial were going crazy, spinning in all directions only to stop abruptly and spin the other way. Voodoo had such an effect on his devices, especially when the power didn't come from the person, but rather from a loa, or spirit that had been bought and bargined for. Closing the watch with a snap Stranger replaced it in his pocket. Had Baron Samedi instructed one of his Hougans to keep an eye on the team? He was well aware of the powers offered by a Hougan, but also aware of the cost. Would Tia be a boon to the team, or a danger?

Much to his annoyance Winters was the first to offer a smile and a friendly greeting to the team. With venom laced in his tone Stranger barked up, removing the smoke from between his lips. " Since you're so friendly already... Plans have changed. You're with this thing..." Stranger jutted his chin out at Tia. " Take her inside, get her to see what her friends know about the Vor." Without turning his head to Stuart he grunted, speaking to him. " Plans haven't changed for you, gun-nut. Find a position." Turning his back on the team Stranger followed Major Chapter, moving to the armory car to equip himself for the mission. The armor was a single steel carriage containing a rack of old Mosin Nagant rifles, a few spare knives and bayonets, and any other personal belongings the team might have. Stranger stopped by the far end of the train, opening a tin box and rummaging through the leather wallets within untill he a batch marked 'KGB'. Taking one for himself Stranger spread the rest out. " Take one each. If a civillian, or police officer stops you don't talk to them. Just flash the badge. These KGB badges are special." Stranger lifed his into sight, tapping a symbol on the top right hand of the badge, a severed dogs head " They belong to the Oprichnina. Secret police established by Ivan the Terrible. History books tell you that these men dressed as monks and fought 'internal enemies'. Half true, they existed mainly to combat Baba Yaga and her minions. They're still active today as a sub-sect of the K.G.B. No-one will ask questions." Tucking the badge into his pocket Stranger glanced over the members of the team. " You'll find extra clothes and boots inside these containers. I suggest you put them on. It's cold outside." Ignoring his own advice, Stranger buttoned up his rain-coat, lifting the collar up and tucking his hands into his pockets, waiting for the train to stop. When it did he hauled open the side door and hoped down onto the rail station's platform.

The station appeared to be some kind of cargo loading point. A large Hammer and Sickle hung under a clock indicating the time, and workers in heavy overalls ignored the group as they dismounted from the train, instead focusing on filling up the cargo hold with boxes taken from the train. " Bryion, take Winters, Stuart, and that one." He jerked his thumb, a disgusted sneer on his lips, as he jabbed his thumb towards Tia. " Aquire transport and head out to the club. Its half a mile north following the main road, opposite the new War memorial. You know what to do when you get there." Glancing to Avi and Song he grunted, placing his hands inside his coat. " We'll walk, try to slip in through a side door." With that Stranger strolled out of the heavy roller doors, and out into the street.

The sky was grey and moody, snow was piling thick around the few parked cars, while there was little wind the air was bitter cold. The streets were near empty save for a few trucks based on American Ford models, carrying cargo to and from the train station. Evidently the Communist East wasn't afraid of stealing idea's from the Capitalist West to become an Industrial powerhouse. Most curiously, a panzer tank stood jutting from the road at a 90 degree angle. Like the last moments of the titanic, the huge war machine appeared to have melded with the frozen ground, its barrel standing high in salute to the Russian city. " An early Occult Warfare project." Stranger explained over his shoulder. " They tried to teleport an S.S Kommdo battallion, and half a tank division into the city to end the war with Russia quickly." Stranger walked past the jutting tank, grunting. " They learned too late that a big difference exists between teleporting an orange from one end of the room to another, and teleporting an army across such a magic soaked soil as Russia. Most of them appeared three miles below ground, being buried alive, or three miles above it." Stranger moved onto the side walk, exhaling smoke as he did. Avi and Song were chatting, and he felt quite keen to avoid taking part in their conversation. His gaze turned up the street to the war memorial.

Opposite stood a tall sandstone building, three floors high and with a plush red carpet on the steps leading outside. Two Burly men stood outside the door, hands infront of them. Upon spotting them Stranger slipped into the ally, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Avi and Song were following. " Should be a side door for muscians to enter." He grunted, removing his smoke and tossing it to the side.

Song smiled as Avi handed off her favorite pet and went to get food. Song and Ales had struck up a friendship back in London, and Song had taught the parrot a few tricks-- an easy task when you could project the image of what you wanted into a simple creature's head. She tried it now, directing Ales to sing, and he belted out a sailor shanty complete with a loud belch at the end. Song giggled, stroking the gray parrot's feathers. “You are better songbird than me, yes?” she said softly, nuzzling the bird's beak.

After the briefing, Song stood to get more tea. As she walked over to Avi with her full mug, Ales squawked happily on her shoulder, eager to be reunited with his mistress. Song smiled at Avi, and was about to ask her something when Stranger spoke up, giving team assignments. Song waited patiently, sipping her tea, and keeping her eyes downcast when she felt the man's attention fall to her. Such anger. Song steeled herself, reminding herself mentally of the same thing she always did every time she felt Stranger's gaze on her: that his hostility was his own, and had nothing to do with her. She had done nothing wrong, that she knew of. He hated merely because it was all he knew. Still, she was glad when his attention moved off of her and onto a woman with dark skin and wild hair who walked in and introduced herself as Tia LeBeaux. Her accent was thick, so Song did not catch much more than the words “spirits” and “help”, but she did catch the air of guarded skepticism directed from the woman toward those she spoke to. Stranger's ill mood seemed to spike as she spoke, and Song found herself curious about the new team member. She could not sense that Stranger knew the woman. Was he perhaps suspicious of her, then? Shaking off the tension in the room, Song smiled warmly at the new woman, opting not to speak, as she was still self conscious about her own English pronunciation. Instead, she turned back to Avi.

Taking a deep breath, Song shot the woman an apologetic look and spoke, struggling to will her words to make sense in the awkward English language. “English man spoke of 'Dark Man' legend. In Tibet, we have legend of dark men, too. They are yogis, live in shadow cities Shambhala and Agartha, practice powers to rule world from shadows. Once, monk said I may have been one in past life, to explain my gifts.” Song paused, trying to gather her thoughts, then continued. “Many people fear dark men, but some legends say they work for balance, not for evil. Maybe Dark Man science woman talk of not a bad one. Maybe he trying to help?” Song finished lamely, biting her lip. The Dark Man the Major had mentioned had sparked her memory of the legends that had struck her fancy as a child, and at first she had thought her own knowledge of the Tibetan version of the legends might be somehow useful, but after expressing it, it really sounded just silly. She frowned, frustrated with her own communication difficulty.

Song waited for Avi's reaction, fussing with her sailor dress and wondering why it was so restrictive at the neckline. At one point, she glanced down and blushed deeply, realizing she had put the dumb thing on backwards! She must look a fright!

Winters nodded his head to Stranger, after the man switched up the game plan where Raven, Tia, and himself would be the ones infiltrating the club. This didn't bother the marine in the slightest, of course, picking up one of the badges and sliding it into a pocket within his jacket. From the box of clothes, Winters grabbed a dusty looking cap of sorts, placing it on his shaven head to give it a semblance of warmth. He knew he wouldn't be able to carry his Thompson openly inside the club, a weapon like that would only cause more problems for civilians than the men they were after, so he removed the drum and put the gun carefully in his backpack, tossing a ratty shirt over it all as he began walking in the direction Stranger said the club would be, checking alleyways for possible cars to hotwire for the mission. He noticed Stuart and Tia talking, which he was actually glad to see, as making sure everyone felt they belonged on the team made missions a lot easier to execute.

"Stuart, how're you? As for the mission, I think it's best if you find your vantage point as we make our way there or we can drop you off somewhere halfway, it's up to you." Winters said looking over his shoulder as Raven, Tia, and Stuart exited the train behind him. "Be nice to see you back in action, eh Raven? As for you Miss Lebeaux, if I may be so bold to say, are you from Louisiana, USA? I only ask because there was a man back in my old unit who had an accent a little like yours and he said he was from Louisiana. Accents always are a treat to hear, specially being from New York you see that's where I'm from..."

Winters began to babble a little bit, a bit excited at this strange woman from the states joining their squad. He knew Stranger must be American, but he wasn't exactly the talking type, so this beautiful southern woman was a delight for the young man as they walked towards the club. Stranger pointed out a tank jutting from the street, which caused Winters to stop his blathering and gaze in wonder at the metal monstrosity pointing defiantly into the heavens. If the Nazis had the ability to do this, what would stop them from dropping bombs in this manner? This revelation only made finishing the mission as quickly and cleanly as possible, so they could hunt down these occult bastards and stop them once and for all. His mind came back into focus as he spotted a dilapidated looking truck that had just been parked outside of a warehouse.

He became more alert as the streets became more busy with civilians, but soldiers as well. This city could have been like any other city he visited in Europe during the war, yet the feeling of oppression and military power hung in the air like a thick smog. The stark contrast from his home and here was jaw-dropping, but Winters knew his job wasn't about taking on the Russians, but ensuring that one of their own got home safely and whatever supernatural freaks raised their ugly mugs here were put down with extreme prejudice. Regardless of all that, it seemed good luck had found them in this cold and dark city, as the driver had left the keys in the ignition. Winters quickly jumped into the car, hurrying his teammates into the vehicle before the driver returned from his business within the warehouse. "C'mon guys we've got to get a move on before that guy gets back..."

To late, as the driver came out of the warehouse, rushing over to his truck as Winters' teammates got into the vehicle. The man began yelling in russian, but within an instant Winters had pulled out his badge and flashed it before the man's face. The man went pale, his voice shaky as his tone gave way to a more apologetic sound, sitting himself down and putting his head between his knees. Winters felt absolutely terrible for causing the man so much fright, but it had to be done as the marine started the truck and headed for the club.

"Raven, I was thinking Miss Lebeaux and I could enter the club together, with you following not to far behind, in case we're followed, as I'm sure Miss Lebeaux here will garner attention of all kinds upon entering the establishment. What do you think?"

Winters flashed his trademark grin towards Raven, their friendship not as close as his had been with Harry, but after their little brawl in the mission prior, both men had grown to respect each other. At least, that's what Winters like to believe happened that day.

He pulled the truck alongside the road about half a block from the club, turning to Stuart and said "I think this is a perfect place for you to find a position, as it's not to far off from the club and these buildings look deserted for the most part. Of course, this is Moscow."

He waited for the others responses, all the while carefully paying attention to the pedestrians and soldiers passing by, the apprehension of the plan possibly going south crossing his mind. As his gaze fell on Miss Lebeaux, Winters began wondering if that was really a bad thing at all.