(For Symbol and Lovelyleo) By the Blood of Aurora

[Symbol]

A wolf has escaped from London Zoo...

At least, that's what the papers are saying. Anyone with half a brain who saw the second victim of this 'wolf' would know that this was the work of no natural creature. All that was left on the murder scene was a piece of scalp with a little blonde hair, a skull with the spinal cord still attached, and huge amounts of blood all over the pavement. But then, for a man to know, he must first be willing to know.

For those in London who know of such things, the general notion was that an exceptionally fierce Lycan was on the loose. Hunters, Assassins... everyone involved in the non-mortal community... they were all worried. The longer this creature was allowed to continue it's rampage, the more the risk of the non-mortal world being unveiled to the general human population, and if that happened, then the race of vampires might just make their move to take over the world.

***

It was dark. Brandon Archer stalked forward slowly, one foot at a time softly crunching gritty floor underneath him. His desert eagles pointed upward, flanking his head, his squinted eyes searching the darkness of the narrow tunnel. In the relative silence was a slow, regular drip of water on some unseen pipe. Archer had been hunting the succubus known as Sindell all day, and finally, this late afternoon, he had tracked it to this underground service tunnel of a Barclay's Bank.

"I won't deny it, am a straight rider..."

The Tupac ringtone of Archer's mobile shattered the silence and the assassin looked down to his coat pocket. Suddenly the succubus screeched, diving from the shadows and striking Archer to the ground with a stiff back-hand slap.

"Ugh!" Archer landed hard on his back, but he quickly lifted his head up to see the fleeing monster. He aimed his golden guns and squeezed the triggers twice each resulting in four loud shots. Sparks and pings told him he'd missed his target and the monster, along with its shrieking, disappeared into the darkness. "Shit!" he shouted angrily, the ringtone and vibration of his phone still going strong.

He stood up, holstered one weapon at the small of his back and pulled the phone out of the inside pocket of his grey trench-coat. "What!?" as soon as he put the phone to his ear. "I'm kinda in the middle of something..................... alright, whatever....... yeah, on me way."

Archer hung up, jaw clenched and teeth grinding. "Rrrrrrr." After spending a full week tracking Sindell, he finally laid his eyes and guns on her and now he was being called back to headquarters for something apparently more important. Now that sudden burst of adrenaline had worn off, he could feel the painful thudding in his cheek where he was struck by the succubus. He looked at the phone in his hand, saw his blood on the keypad, then looked down the tunnel where his quarry had fled. Sindell was supposed to put his kill record in double figures. Now she was gone.

"F'fucks sake." With that, he headed back to the ladder that would take him back to the oblivious 'real world.'

[Lovelyleo]

She shut the briefcase and shook the man's hand, smiling slightly as he squeezed a little too tight. She had carried out jobs for him before, and found his appearance displeased her a little more each time they met.

"As always, Jane, so very...efficient" the man told her quietly, wiping his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his cream colored suit. Jane nodded and began to walk away, heading towards the elevator that would lead her to the ground floor of the building. She wiped her hands on her jeans, noting just how hot he kept his spacious office. To one side the walls were completely made of glass, allowing her to look over the better part of London. Every time she walked into that office she pictured pushing him through the glass...just for fun.

"I'll call you soon. There's something else I would like you to look into...this time in South America" he told her as she walked away, still holding the package she had delivered. She kept on walking, ignoring his comment. She found that with certain people she encountered this problem. She would work for them once, maybe twice, and all of a sudden they were too greedy and would have jobs for her every other day. Not that she didn't like the fat checks being handed to her...but some of her employers didn't really comprehend the consequences of using half the things they requested.

She entered the elevator and pushed the ground floor button, leaning against the cool marble walls and taking in the jazzy elevator music. Once outside, she pulled her hood over her head and stuck her hands in her pockets, and began walking towards the nearest cafe. She had just finished a job, and not an easy one at that, and she was going to allow herself to take some time off.

The thought of a creamy cappuccino was interrupted by her cellphone vibrating in her coat pocket. As per usual, the number was blocked.

"Jane Grey. Who's this?." She had gotten in the habit of using a different last name every time. Partly because she enjoyed it, and partly because she had to.

"It's Rufus. I know you just finished that job in Sumeria, but I have something you won't want to pass up. Someone higher up, and don't ask me his name because you know I'm not allowed to give it out, has caught wind that there is...and get this...a werewolf on the lose" Rufus said. He paused for a couple of seconds, listening to Jane breathe on the other side.

"Shut up Rufus. I'm busy" she told him cooly, wanting to hang up the phone. He had played pranks on her before, and this sure sounded like one of them.

"Listen, wait! There's proof. There's proof everywhere. The amount of money this man is offering to pay you will see you through the rest of your days, and you won't have to ever lift a finger. Swing by my place today" he said and hung up. Jane held the phone to her ear for a couple more seconds, thinking she would swing by, give him a piece of her mind for being an idiot, and then go get some much deserved caffeine.

She turned around and started walking the other way, towards Rufus' flat.

[Symbol]

Archer got off the bus in the city centre, then crossed the road toward the towering building of white brick. It was getting late, but the streets of London were still packed. He jimmied his way through the crowd and went up the steps into the lobby. Dressed in his hunting gear, Archer looked like he'd fallen straight out of an action movie - kitted out in a white tee, black combat pants tucked into thick, black Caterpillar boots and topped off with a grey trench-coat - but in the busy hustle'n'bustle of London city centre, no one really looked at anyone at anyone else. No one cared. Everyone walked the streets at an impatient pace, with a look on their faces that said, 'Fuck you, my problems are important, yours aren't, leave me alone.' It had been the same in his hometown of Manchester and it suited Archer down to the ground.

"Archer," Sam, the receptionist greeted from behind his desk. Archer threw up a hand in lieu of a wave, but didn't stop walking toward the elevator. "You lose your bike, again?"

"Sue me."

Sam burst out laughing and the BSD assassin flashed him a cocky smile to hide his embarrassment as he pressed the button for the elevator, waited a moment, then walked in and began pressing a bunch of the buttons in an unorthodox, but necessary combination.

Arriving on one of the secret higher floors, Archer walked out and into a chaotic office atmosphere. There were phones going off everywhere, people answering them, or talking to one another. Others were shouting. Barry was waltzing around with his pump-action shotgun... Archer was used to it by now. At twenty years old, he had been with the Assassins for nearly two years. It seemed like only yesterday when he had fled Manchester because of a warrant for his arrest, landing in London Victoria train station at midnight with the clothes on his back a couple hundred quid in his pocket. He never wondered much about his family or the street gang he used to run with. The only person in his past he did wonder about was the woman who'd saved his life that very night in the train station. Saved his life and gave him a brand new one too.

For a moment, Archer wondered what she was doing right now.

"Archer!" The assassin blinked from his reverie and looked at his boss, The Governer, who was stood at the door of his office. "Get your ass in here." With that he disappeared and Archer went over.

"Alright, Guv." Yankee bastard.

"No. Not really, if I'm totally honest." The Governer fell back into his chair and pulled a thick, brown envelope out from a deskdrawer, chucking it onto the desk in front of Archer. "We have a serious - serious - problem. There is a beast on the loose, tearing seven shades of shit out of Londeners, left, right and center..." Archer fingered through the papers, mainly looking for a photo. "...the boys think it's a Lycan, but I disagree. Smells like a were to me."

"Jesus Christ!" Archer exclaimed as he finally found a photo. It wasn't a photo of the beast though. It was a picture of the first victim... or rather, what was left of the first victim. "A were couldn't have done this, surely?"

"It seems a bit much for a were doesn't it, but I don't know. I think we may have something big on our hands here. It's already drawn international attention."

Archer looked up from the photos, his eyes suddenly wide as pennies. "Vatican?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah," the Governer confirmed. "They're sending someone over to assist in the operation. 'To see that it is taken care of quickly,'" his words carried a bitter tone. "Damn Italian, bible-bashing fucks. They think they own the damn world."

She's coming back, he thought to himself. They've gotta send her, she knows London like the back of her hand. "Who are they sending?"

"One of their elite," replied the Guv. Come on. Please. Be her. Be her. "Some guy..." All at once, Archer deflated. "...I forget his name. Big shot killer number 21, it doesn't really matter what his name is. He'll be here tomorrow."

A little pissed off, Archer sucked his teeth and looked around the room. "If this is my assignment then I'll do it. Alone."

"Aww, what, did you think your mommy was coming back to hold your hand again?" Archer screwed up his face aggressively. That one hurt. "You think I would put a novice on an assignment like this alone? Hell, you, of all people!?" The Governer stood up, pointing at the young assassin, who leaned back into his chair, trying to be cool and keep his temper in check. "Jesus, Archer, you're a walking fucking catastrophe. You wind up in jail nearly every week... you cost the company a few hundred grand last month after demolishing that shopping centre..."

Archer scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. "How the fuck can you blame that on me!? I was chasing a schizophrenic vampire. There was bound to be collateral."

"...you have lost seven motorcyles this year..."

Archer scratched his cheek - The one that that didn't look it had been dragged along the pavement. "That would be eight." The Governer raised his eyebrows expectantly. Archer went on. "Yeah, I need a new bike, Guv. It wasn't my fault this time, though. I..."

The Governer shook his head. "It never fucking is, is it. Trust me, I wouldn't have you anywhere near this assignment if we weren't so short-staffed right now. We're bringing in new recruits as we speak, but not everyone gets the good fucking fortune to be trained personally, one on one, by a legend." Archer narrowed his eyes. It was no secret that some of the other assassins in the BSD were a little jealous of Brandon Archer's fast-track from a novice white-fang to a fully-fledged Red Talon. He was still a novice in everyone's eyes, but he had the cred to take missions on by himself.

Thanks to her, Archer thought. Then she left me.

The Guv turned his back on Archer and went to look out of his window, to the lit-up city and the darkening sky hovering above. "You have until the end of the week to stop this thing, Archer. Everyone's eyes are on London, waiting to see if the Assassins fuck this thing up. We cannot fail."

[Lovelyleo]

A werewolf in London...She pondered on what Rufus had told her. He did pull pranks once in a while, but he had seemed half serious over the phone. And on top of that, there had always been an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they would not reveal employers' names, yet Rufus had felt the need to remind her that this particular one was off limits. If that wasn't enough of a red flag, he had seemed like he was in a hurry. And Rufus, unlike Jane, was never in a hurry.

Rufus, for the most part, was confined to a wheelchair. He was a vital part of her world. He could access almost anything electronically from the devices and screens in his apartment, and had helped her countless times without asking for anything in return. Over the years, people started to contact him when they wanted to reach her, and so he had become a kind of middleman. Jane had pictured many times before what it would be like to have him come on a mission with her, but it wasn't all that easy to arrange. Back when her father was still alive, Rufus had been with him somewhere in Russia looking for an artifact that a major client had requested. Somehow -her father had never told her how- Rufus had become paralyzed from the waist down. The doctors couldn't explain it, and Rufus refused to talk about it. So day in and day out, he wheeled himself back and forth in his little apartment, occasionally tripping over scattered wires and the general mess of things.

She almost wished she hadn't started thinking about him and his past. As she expected, memories of her father too had come crawling back. She only wished she knew where he was. He had vanished years ago, leaving her in the care of an aunt who, despite her meek appearance, had vowed to train her into what she had become. If it wasn't for the imminent threat of death every other day, this would be the perfect job, she thought to herself.

She was distracted from her chain of thought when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a newspaper headline that made her gasp. She half ran over to the newspaper stand and hurriedly threw some change at the man inside. She picked up a newspaper and kept on walking, this time faster and occasionally elbowing a person or two.

Serial Killer on the Lose, Or Serial Magician? Authorities Baffled at Lack of Evidence Found at Murder Scene

Her heart skipped a beat. Lack of evidence....as in, lack of body parts. She scanned the article, reading through the gory bits that explained just how the bodies were found. "Extreme mutilation" and "lack of evidence" jumped out at her throughout the article. She closed the newspaper and ran to the side of the road, sticking her hand out and motioning for a cab.

She got inside and gave Rufus' direction to the driver, noticing that her hands could not stop trembling the whole ride there. The short 10 minute ride seemed endless, and when she finally handed the money over to pay, she didn't even wait for change. She ran out of the cab and around the block, fishing some keys out of her pocket as she went. She approached a large wooden door and used the keys to open it, swearing to herself as fidgeted with the handle. She ran up a flight of creaking old steps and once again fished in her pocket for the keys, opening the door to the apartment.

Rufus was sitting on his favorite chair, magazine in hand, drinking what smelled like coffee from a very large cup. He put the magazine down when he saw her, and she turned around and slammed the apartment door. She walked over to the matching couch next to his chair and sat down, leaning against the back and closing her eyes.

"There is a fucking werewolf in London" she said as she let out a sigh.

------------------------------------------------

She sipped on the hot coffee Rufus had given her earlier and looked through the many articles and pictures he had archived for her. She was sitting in her favorite spot, on the living room rug with all the work sprawled out around her. Behind her a small fire he had started warmed the small of her back, and even though she had been looking at absolute gore for the last hour, she felt at ease. She leafed through a stack of pictures of two female victims, both hardly 30, who had been completely consumed. Yes, she though, consumed is the perfect word.

"They want you to find it, kill it, and bring it back" he told her as he wheeled himself back into the living room. He was carrying more files which he threw on the floor next to her.

"Well, that's just dandy. Sounds simple. In and out" she said sarcastically. "There's only one of me Rufus. And one of me isn't enough to fight whatever this thing is" she said, still refusing to fully admit a werewolf was on the loose, even though she knew just what she was dealing with. The pictures didn't lie. All the proof she needed was there. But she wouldn't be able to go into it alone, and Rufus, while indispensable when it came to her so called "jobs", would not be getting up anytime soon to help her.

"We need to call someone in. Get in touch with that association in Prague, whatever they call themselves" she said in between sips. Rufus shook his head. "He asked for you and only you, he doesn't want this to get out to anyone else. Rumor has it there's other people after it already" he told her. Jane knew that when he started sentences with "rumor has it" he really meant that he was absolutely sure, but didn't want to reveal his sources.

"I can't take on a fuckin' werewolf on my own. I'm not superwoman" she said harshly. "Well, I am superwoman, but no one is that super. I need help" she told him again.

"Sorry sweetheart, this isn't really arguable. You either do it or you don't. And if I were you I would do it. You don't want these freaks on your bad side" he said wheeling himself away and into the other room. "We have new weapons though! Lots of 'em. Finally cracked that code on your dad's old safe" he shouted from the kitchen.

Jane lay down on the carpet, surrounded by violently gruesome pictures, and sighed. They better be nuclear weapons, idiot, she thought to herself.

[Symbol]

"You wanna bike!? I'll give you a bike!" Archer stormed out of the Governers office... "I'll fucking run you..." ...slamming the door and drowning out the Governer's tirade. Swearing and huffing and puffing, Archer marched through the office booths and punched the button for the elevator. Other than getting out of his way, no one paid much attention. This was nothing new. The young assassin looked around, fired up and ready to answer any comments nevertheless.

"Risk my fuckin life every night out there and this is the fuckin fanks I get." He touched his wounded cheek and checked his hand for blood. There was none - a fact that was strangely disappointing after his little rant. When the elevator doors opened with a 'BING,' the assassin walked inside and punched the ground floor button. The doors shut and the lift began to descend. Only then did Archer allow himself to show a little weakness. He shook his head and breathed out audibly, leaning against the mirrored back-panel for support. His head thudded against the mirror as he looked upward, beyond the ceiling, to the heavens.

This job had been so much easier when she was around............


Inside the Brunswick Road Cathedral, Archer ran up the spiral staircase of the steeple, taking the steps two and three at a time, golden guns in his hands. He didn't stop at the top, shoulder-barging the door through and aiming his guns about as he strafed inside the upper-most room of the sanctuary. When he laid eyes on the target, it took him a moment to realize the situation.

"Hahaha...!" he guffawed, holstering one of his twin desert eagles at the small of his back. "Hey Mac! Come look at this whoppin banana!"

You could hear MacKensie Trydant's huge Caterpillar boots thundering up the staircase before she glided in, taking off her silver shades to put her emerald eyes on the vampire in the corner. The creature had fled to the nearest building as sunrise came, which, unfortunately for it, was a holy building. Now, even more unfortunately, it was trapped in the shadowy corner of the room, kept prisoner by the intruding rays of sunshine coming through the stain-glass window. It had nowhere to go. MacKensie chuckled. "Well ain't that some shit," she remarked. Then, a little louder to their prisoner: "Haven't you had just the worst night?"

The vampire hissed at her. "One day, Trydant, you will get yours."

MacKensie waved away the retort. "Please..." she shook her head derisively. "I musta heard a hundred of you sucker-heads make the same claim. Each one of them has tasted medium-rare silver stake." She drew a silver stake out to show him a sample. He hissed even louder. "Finish the job, Brandon."

Archer stepped forward and put two bullets in the vampire's skull, then he caught the stake his mentor threw to him and knelt down to drive it into the vampire's heart. The body started glowing gold before it burned up into sand and ash. Archer fished around the remains and retrieved his silver bullet casings. They could be salvaged later on. "Less than 24 hours from business to pleasure," Archer bragged. "That's gotta be some sort of record. I could do this job in my sleep."

MacKensie turned on her heels, making her trench coat whirl behind her as she left the room. "Good, because I'm leaving to go back to Italy today. You'll be on your own from here on out."

"Wh-" Archer span around, his face aghast with shock as he stared at MacKensie's back slowly disappearing down the spiral stairs. "What?"

"You're training's done, Brandon. You're an assassin now." Archer was rooted to the spot, the dusty remains of the vampire, Cicero, for company. "Congratulations," her soft voice echoed up the staircase.

Outside the church, MacKensie was waiting, smoking a cigarette and watching cars pass with those cat-like, emerald eyes of hers. Archer often wondered how on earth the woman smoked twenty a day and still managed to outrun him all the time. She was special. She was MacKensie Trydant - The baddest bitch Archer had ever known. As he fell in beside her, she turned her head sharply to regard him, then sharply back with a smirk. "Awwww," she purred. "You're upset. I'm touched."

Archer was a little embarrassed, but no more so than she'd made him before. It had been well over a year since she'd saved his life in Victoria Train Station from a gang of adolescent, blood-sucking punks, but it had all flown by. Even with all she'd told him about her life, all the clues and hints she'd dropped, he never considered that she would one day leave England and him behind. Or at least, he'd never wanted to consider it. "I thought we were a team, Mac."

"Don't be such a pussy," she shot back as she waved a black cab down. It did a U-turn and pulled up next to them. "I don't fuck pussies." She gave him that unsmiling but playful look that would normally melt his kneecaps, but today it didn't. She dipped into the cab and Archer followed.

The ride was in silence, MacKensie studying Archer as he stared out of the window at the scenery. He waited for her to speak so he could tell her, 'Fuck you,' but she never did. They never spoke another word to each other ever again. Archer stopped the cab near his flat on Wanderer Street, and got out without even so much as a glance at his former mentor. He heard her give the driver directions before the cab drove off. Immediately he regretted his decision, but what was done was done................


BING - The lift doors opened.

There was plenty of work to be done and the night was still young - dawn still over eight hours away - so Archer walked through the city centre to Club Brood - always his first port of call when he had a new assignment. A man called The Wizard owned the place. MacKensie had introduced him to the Wizard, a man that was no mortal, to be certain, but Archer wasn't exactly sure what he was. MacKensie neither. Some kind of unidentifiable demon, perhaps. The Wizard was everywhere. Literally everywhere. All the time. He owned clubs, property and businesses all around the world and he personally attended every one, every single hour of every single day. At the same time. He was, as to be expected, always well-up on current events in London when it came to the underground, non-mortal scene. An indispensable source of information who was always happy to help his friends, and Archer was a friend... apparently.

He turned up at the club and bypassed the queue of punters, walking straight up to the double doors that were sentried by two, seven foot tall mountains. The music was thumping even out here. The bouncers recognized him and stepped aside. Reaching into his pocket, he leisurely pulled out his silver shades and placed them on carefully, then nodded to one of the bouncers and walked in. Club Brood was literally shaking. The only light came from neon blinkers, traffic lights and strobe lighting, illuminating the crowds of sweaty people dancing to synthesized techno beats. His sunglasses make it harder to see in the dark club but it's worth it. The vampires in Club Brood always recognized the silver shades. They feared them. It represented MacKensie Trydant.

He navigates the crowds with a turn of the shoulder here and a gentle push there, arriving at the bottom of a metal staircase blocked off by someone with his back turned. Archer tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, a mean look on his face until he saw who it was. Promptly, he raised his hands in surrender and stepped aside. Archer gave a teethy grin, his laugh completely muted by the deafening music. He went up to the second floor. There, a man was waiting with open arms.

"Archer. A pleasure to see you." He doesn't shout, yet his voice is clear in the ears of the assassin. "Go on up," the man continues. "I am waiting."

***

High up above, at the massive window of his private quarters, Sergei Romanov, also known as Saladin the Sorceror, also known as The Wizard, stands and watches his club. He stood with his hands linked together behind his back. His suit was jet-black and expensive. His slick, black hair was gelled back and shiny, highlighting a thin, pale face.

"The post-modern age..." he mused. "Don't you just love it, hmm?" The man sat over on the cushioned seats smiled, exposing the short fangs of a shape-shifted demon. Sergei continued. "Elves and dwarves, rock and stone...witchcraft and wizardry..." he turned from the window and strolled into the center of the room. "The great cataclysm... The age of the neanderthal..." The room itself resembled the lounge of a penthouse suite. Decked with a fine, white carpet - there are leather, cushioned seats, a bar in the corner and cream wallpaper. "...The Sumer Empire... the Romans... European feudalism... I've seen it all, my friend. But Capitalism, well... I have to say it has been the greatest age.

"The infinite-growth business-paradigm, the military-industrial complex, Wall Street, lightspeed communication... and it turns out, after all these years, that the stars are not gods nor heaven but places to go. How can you not love that, I ask you?" The demon laughed out loud this time and Sergei smiles, though he needs little encouragement for his eccentric-ism. He goes to add something to his eulogy when he is suddenly distracted. "Ah... we have a guest."

Not much longer after does a knock come at the door and it opens, revealing Mr Brandon Archer.
"Come in, my friend," again Sergei greets him with open arms. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Archer takes off his shades and puts them in his inside coat pocket. "I think you might know."

"Tell me anyway," Sergei shot back playfully with a bounce of manicured, gelled eyebrows. He gestured to a set of sofas on the opposite side of the room to where the humanoid demon was sat. Archer sat down and Sergei carefully placed himself on the sofa opposite, then crossed one leg over the other.

Here, Archer explained the situation, about the mysterious beast that was attacking innocent civilians. Sergei listened tentatively, but the young assassin was clearly of the opinion that he knew all this already. The Wizard was everywhere, after all. All the time. When Archer was finished, there was a brief silence, then Sergei got up. "Would you like a drink?" He made his way over to the bar. "Jack Daniels," he said, reciting Archer's favourite drink. The young assassin replied affirmatively. Impatiently too. Sergei smiled inwardly. "And you, sir?" he asks the humanoid, who politely declines with a shake of his head.

"Nice one," Archer said, not very enthusiastically, as he accepted his drink. He knew he had to play along with the Wizard's game to get the prize but he wasn't known for his patience. Sergei had noticed this about Archer from early on in their relationship and he liked to push the assassin's buttons.

"So... Sindell is allowed to continue breathing," Sergei said as he swirled his drink around in the glass, admiring the single, oversized ice-cube that was sculpted as a beautiful rose-head. "Aurora must be extremely important to the British Supernatural Defence," he added before taking a sip, dark-brown eyes gleaming as he eyed Archer over the rim of his glass.

The young assassin was a few moments slow to catch on, but his face changed eventually. "Aurora?"

Such fun.

[Lovelyleo]

A few hours had gone by since she had left Rufus' apartment. The strong smell of coffee still clung to her clothes, and even though she knew she desperately needed a shower, she wanted to smell like rich coffee beans a little while longer.

She had left Rufus' apartment almost as confused and when she had entered it. She had a lot more information than what she had started out with, but that didn't make things much clearer. She had filled up two whole bags with files and pictures, and bits and pieces of articles. But for some reason she wasn't much closer to finding out exactly what she was dealing with. She knew it was a werewolf, that was for sure, but nothing she had ever seen even compared to the degree of destruction this thing left behind.

She tried to pick apart thoughts in her head to find any remnants of what her aunt had taught her about werewolves. She knew it hadn't been very much, since they had been considered extinct many years ago. And now she felt as if she had nothing to work with. In other words, she was as lost as she had ever been when dealing with a case. Even Rufus, the most informed of people, couldn't provide her with the information she needed.

She crossed the small living room of her flat into the kitchen and placed a kettle on the oven, hoping some warm tea would at least get her thinking again. It was as if she was paralyzed. She didn't know where to go from the point where she had already gotten, and that bothered her. And according to Rufus, her employer had requested that she work with no one else.

She walked back to the living room and took her boots off, sitting on the carpet so that her feet came close to the crackling fire. The warmth spread through her body, and an inexplicable feeling of loneliness overcame her. She was only twenty six years old, and apart from Rufus, she had no one else. Her aunt had passed the year before and her dad was still missing. She often thought he might be alive, but she knew how unlikely that was. Me against the world, she thought to herself. She couldn't help but smile at the thought, knowing she was being over-dramatic. What seemed like a big ball of fur crawled down from the couch gracefully and sat by her toes. Well, Peanut and I against the world, she thought as she petted her cat.

-----------------------------------------

Jane woke up with the kettle whistling loudly in the room over. "Shit!" she said as she pushed herself up and dropped her yawning cat on the carpet. She ran to the kitchen and turned off the stove, cursing as some boiling water hit her hand. She looked over at the clock on the wall and noticed she had been asleep for a little over an hour. She cursed under her breath at being so careless, and walked over to the sink to rinse her throbbing hand off. The places where the boiling drops had fallen on her skin were bright red and spotty. She ran cold water over her hand and let the cooling feeling wash over her.

"Holy shit Peanu,t" she said as her cat jumped on the balcony, "we almost just burned the house down!" she half yelled at him.

Suddenly two words seemed to click in her head. "Burn...what burns...? Oh my god, move you lard ass!" she said as she pushed the cat aside and ran towards the room, pushing things out of her way as she went. She opened her closet and half crawled in, picking things apart and tossing clothes behind her shoulder. Finally she found what she had been looking for, a small wooden box with the initials ZM engraved on the top.

"Dad's Fire diaries..." she whispered as she used her hand to wipe the thin film of dust that covered the lid of the box. ZM stood for Zachary Mason, her father's name. His whole life he had made sure to keep detailed, accurate diary entries of the creatures he encountered. They were filled with tips and helpful hints, and Jana had never given them much thought. But she was sure if anyone would know, it would be her father.

She sat down on the floor, as she usually preferred to do, and started flipping through the old books she had taken from inside the box. Peanut walked in, a look of hurt on his face, and gently sat on her lap, waiting to be petted. "I'm sorry I called you a lard ass. Now get the fuck off" she said pushing him aside once more and focusing on the diaries.

[Symbol]

"And he has cheek to tell me get off phone!?" Yusuf exclaimed wildly. Archer snorted. "I said, Ateeq... you no pay no bloody bills in this house..." Archer liked Yusuf's rants. It wasn't the details he liked, but the man's foreign brand of extravagance. Yusuf was wagging his finger at the young assassin - who was sat at a table in the kebab shop - as if it was Archer who was his son. "...you no pay no bloody rent. You no pay no bloody water. No bloody gas. No bloody 'lectricity. You no pay bloody phone bill!" This time, Archer laughed out loud. Yusuf went on. "His girlfriend laughing on the line. He embaress, I don't care."

For a long time now, Archer had been coming to the same kebab shop almost every night. It was hardly healthy, but there wasn't many places a human creature of the night could get something to eat, and the young assassin never did much cooking. And Yusuf wasn't about to complain at the regular custom. At first, Archer was just another customer, but after regular visits, the chatty shop-keeper had begun to make conversation with him. Upon early inquiries, Archer had told him that he was a night-shift street-sweeper, which wasn't an outright lie, Archer thought. But Yusuf wasn't stupid. Luckily, he wasn't that intrusive or indiscreet either, so the two of them got along fine.

"Kick him out," Archer offered casually before taking a bite of his kebab. Then, he added with a full mouth, "or kick his arse. Might do him some good."

Just then, a drunk couple wandered into the shop and Archer went back to looking through the BSD case file on the mysterious Aurora. Aside from the locations of the murder scenes, the file was complete garbage. Compared to the information that The Wizard doled out, every BSD case file was complete garbage. It made him wonder how other assassins did their jobs so effectively. I guess everyone has informants, he thought. A shadow came over his table and he looked up to see the woman eyeing his papers, and promptly covered them with his arm. If the Governer or anyone else found out that he was reading his case files out in public like this, all hell would break loose, but Archer didn't care much for the regulations of his workplace. As a general rule, he didn't care for much of anything. The woman took the hint and tottered back to her boyfriend's side at the counter. Archer watched her with a degree of contempt, but his face changed when he saw the shop television, and the headline that was scrolling across the BBC News 24 channel.

As the couple took their kebabs and left, Archer pointed at the TV. "Yusuf, turn that up a bit, mate."

"...and the wolf that escaped from London Zoo is still on it's rampage. Police Authorities are asking citizens to stay indoors, after dark, until the beast is caught..."

"Crazy shit," Yusuf remarked.

"Yeah," Archer agreed. "Who the hell goes to the Zoo to see a wolf, anyway?"

Yusuf grunted. He started muttering to himself as he went into the back of the shop. Just then, Archer's phone started vibrating.

"I won't deny it, am a straight rider, you don't wanna fuck with me..."

"What's up?" It was HQ, telling him that he should take the night off, so he can be up and at work for 7am. There, he would be taking a car to the airport to pick up the Vatican agent, who'd be landing in Heathrow at 9 o'clock. "Yeah, whatever.......... right...." He hung up and looked thoughtfully at his phone. With the Wizard's clues, he might just be able to put the werewolf down tonight. It was a long shot, but the thought of the Avenging Angel getting to London to find that the job had already been taken care of, was too appealing a prospect to turn down. "Fuck 'em," he said to himself.

"Your boss?" Yusuf asked as he came back to the front of the shop.

"Yeah," Archer said. He shoved the last of his kebab in his mouth and licked all his fingers, then grabbed a napkin. Yusuf watched him curiously, as if he wanted to ask what the young man really did for a living. Archer gathered up his papers and got up before shoving the case file back into his waistband, behind the gun-holsters at the small of his back. "I'm off, mate. I'll see ya inabit, yeah."

"Take care, Archer."

Archer blindly threw up a hand in leui of a wave as he walked to the door, and went out into the night, Yusuf watching him as he did.

***

Bobby Fischer strolled down the street, holding the dog leash in one hand, and a cannabis cigarette in the other. It was a bit of an odd time to be walking the dog, even if this was South London, where crime was quite low. But then, Bobby was an odd kind of guy. He enjoyed having the streets to himself, and he thought that Rex did too. Plus, weed never made him paranoid, like it did to other people, and he knew the streets like the back of his hand, having been born and raised here, so he never really felt in any danger. Not even when he began to hear the strangest melody on the night air.

"La _ La-la _ La-Laa... _ La-la _ La-la _ La-laaa... _ La _ La _ La-la _ La-la, _ La-la _ La-la _ La-laaa..."

"What the fuck," he pondered quietly to himself, pausing mid-step and taking a look around. If he wasn't mistaken, he could hear a woman's voice singing the tune for that old children's song, 'The Farmer Wants A Wife.' But he couldn't see anyone around. He briefly questioned his sanity, then pulled his mouth into a little shrug and continued on his way.

"La _ La-la _ La-laa..."

I guess I'm not the only odd-ball out tonight, he thought to himself as he walked. The tune carried on, gradually getting louder. Bobby took a last drag of his smoke and flicked the roach away. He giggled to himself, not scared in the least bit. The woman's voice was actually quite beautiful, where ever she was. Rex yipped and started to speed up, pulling Bobby along as he did.

"...La _ La _ La-la _ La-la..."

Finally, as he rounds a corner, the source of the voice comes into view. It was a blonde-haired woman, wearing a sweater and some jeans, who stood in a pose with a hand on her hip, looking right at Bobby. Rex suddenly sat down, staring at her. Bobby stopped in his tracks.

"Why, howdy there pad'ner," she said in very good Calamity Jane impression. She must have been a fan. Or she could have been insane. Either way, Bobby smiled and greeted her back. "Wut's a fine fella like yourself doin out this late after sun-dayunnn?"

Bobby scratched his head, rather puzzled. "Oh, I err... I always take Rex for a walk around this time." Rex growled, though it wasn't an aggressive growl. Then he barked. "The air just seems so much cleaner at night. What about you?"

"And wut in tarnation is that ugly little thaanng?" she asked.

Rex barked again. Bobby laughed easily. "Oh, don't mind Rex. He won't bite. He's actually a really laid-back dog." Rex wasn't doing much to prove him right. The dog kept barking.

"Is that so?" she replied. "Well, I wouldn't be too happy if someone tied a rope around maa neck?"

Rex barked. "Well, it's..."

"Really?" she interupted. Bobby was confused. "Well, just becuz he feeds you and gives you a place to sleep, don't mean he can do as he pleases, now, does it."

"Wait, what?" Bobby's forehead wrinkled up. He was starting to realise what was going on. Rex barked another reply to the woman.

"Well, it ain't right," she said. "In fact... I'm pretty dang angry, right now."

She isn't talking to me, he thought. She's... Suddenly the woman's eyes shone bright gold.

"What the fuck.........?"

***

Archer had gone home in a stolen car, thrown the case file in the bin and grabbed his police scanner, then drove to the southern district. Using a combination of the Wizard's clues and the murder locations in the case file, he'd managed to deduce that the next victim would be somewhere in that area. As he drove, he ran the Wizard's info over and over in his head.

She doesn't need the moon to transform. She likes dogs. She's learning the world around her. She likes to play act. She feeds on both flesh and soul, gaining both sustenance and knowledge from meals - what the fuck? She likes to be rocked to sleep.

This target was, perhaps, the craziest he'd ever dealt with. After dumping the car on a side street, he toured the neighborhood on foot. "She likes to be rocked to sleep?" he muttered quietly to himself. "Who on earth is rocking this crazy bitch to sleep?"

"Aaaaaarrrrggghh!!!!!!!!"

Archer's head turned sharply. The shriek of agony and anguish was fairly distant, perhaps four or five blocks away, but it was clear, unmistakable and blood-curdling. "Bonus!" And with that, he burst into a sprint across the road and into an alley, heading toward the commotion............

[Lovelyleo]

She had been going over the diaries for hours. She had scanned every page, every piece of paper, every scribbled note and every annotation. She had found an extensive section on werewolves, but nothing compared to the destruction this creature caused. Not to mention she had no idea how she would capture the werewolf and transport it without completely killing it. She shut the last diary, throwing it in the wooden box and resting her head on her hands. She had been sitting on the floor of her room for a couple of hours, and her back was starting to ache. She stretched back, letting out a sigh of relief as she heard a little cracking sound.

She pushed herself up and picked up Peanut, who had been looking at her from a corner with a hurtful look in his eyes. She brushed his thick fur as she walked to the kitchen, taking in the cool feeling of her feet touching the tile floor. She put Peanut down on the counter and re-filled the kettle, throwing in a few mint leaves for good measure. As per usual she hadn't eaten all day, and upon inspecting the fridge and several cupboards, she decided she would have to go out if she wanted a bite to eat.

As she waited for the water to boil, she tried to recollect everything she had read about werewolves in her father's journals. There was the basic silver bullet and full moon information, and little else. Whatever her father had encountered throughout his life, werewolves must not have played a big part. All the reading up on it had given her a headache, not to mention she would have to report back to Rufus in the morning. He had asked for some sort of brief plan on what she was going to do, and she had absolutely nothing to tell him. How would she even get around finding this thing? By the time any of the murders came to light the trails would have been too cold for anyone to follow.

On top of that, Rufus had mentioned she wasn't alone. Not only was she being relied on by some mystery millionaire, she apparently had some competition. And if the was one thing she knew about her line of business, was that not just anybody could do it. In fact, only the very best did it. Which ultimately meant that whoever she was up against would be just as capable of kicking her ass.

Her stomach growled once more and she decided she would need to head out sooner than she had expected. She moved the kettle to the counter and turned off the stove, making a mental note to buy Peanut food while she was out. She walked to the living room and put on her favorite leather jacket, feeling in the right pocket for her keys. She picked up a small gun from a wooden table by the door and tucked it in her waistline, pulling her jacket over to conceal it. From the same table she picked up a small knife enclosed in a leather cover which she placed inside her right boot. Most people might have thought she was overreacting, but she knew the things that lurked out there after the sun went down, and she preferred having the upper hand in case something happened.

She unlatched the two chains from her door and unlocked a couple other locks, listening as the clicking noises made a kind of rhythmic melody. She closed the door behind her and took the steps down to the main level, where she exited onto the street. There was no one in sight, just as she had predicted. The cold wind nipped at her ears and she hugged her jacket a little closer. She planned on walking the two blocks to the small convenience store on the counter, run by a sleep deprived old man who always seemed to be in a bad mood. She would grab some fruit and a sandwich, and a couple of cat food cans, and head back home. She wanted to try to get a least two hours of sleep before she had to break it to Rufus that she wouldn't be able to complete the assignment.

She was about to cross over to the other side of the street when the piercing sound echoed throughout the block. This was no faint yell. It almost sounded like a thousand pieces of glass shattering, while a thousand boxes of chalk screeched on a blackboard. It immediately sent shivers down her spine. Nothing good ever came of yells like that.

She turned back around and pulled the gun from her waistline, holding it close to her thigh as she ran backwards the way the had come. Whoever the screamer was, she was fully aware that they would probably be dead by the time she got there. All she had heard was the one scream, and she felt like she was running blind for a couple of minutes until she stumbled on what she believed was the screamer. Or at least what was left of him.

Pieces of skin were strewn across the concrete. There was very little blood and gore, as if the victim had been sucked clean. Their whole spine was lying on the concrete, stained with blood here and there. Jane had the sudden urge to throw up and run from it, but curiosity stopped her. She noticed a dog sitting very still by one of the skin bits, wagging it's tail and breathing heavily.

"What the flying fuck is going on here..." she said lowering her gun and walking towards the dog. Footsteps behind her made her turn abruptly and lift her gun back up. She pointed directly at the man who stood there, taking in his almost handsome yet boyish features.

"This isn't what it looks like" she said fiercely, still pointing the gun at him.

[Symbol]

The alley went round a corner and Archer could see that it was leading him to a dead end. "Crap."

He kept going anyway, getting to the end and scaling the fence that belonged to someone's back garden. Booted feet landing on grass, he pushed his pace back up, side-strafing some garden furniture and jumping up onto the patio. He couldn't avoid crashing into a barbecue grill, sending it tumbling over and creating a racket. By the time an upstairs, bedroom light switched on in the house and the shadow appeared at the window, Archer was already in the front garden and hurdling the hedges to find himself gratefully on the streets again. No more short-cuts, he thought as he ran. His bearings stayed with him and he ran to the end of the street and turned another corner. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain his focus on where the scream had come from, but he was pretty certain he was homing in on the location.

He crossed a street and kept running. The sudden sound of a wheelie-bin falling over and a black cat running across the road in front of him, made the assassin's heart skip a beat. He kept running without falter, but it made him draw his golden twins out as he went. Thumbs brought down the safeties on each twin and his eyes darkened as he got into his zone.

Another road crossed and he kept running. His eyes flicked about the lamp-lit streets, his vision seeming to pulsate, his temples thudding - all to the beat of his heart. He could smell south London; the pollution of the day's traffic, the festering refuse in the bins in each garden, the stench of the sewer seeping up from the grids at the roadside. He felt as if he could sense everything that was going on in the entire world, and none of it mattered. Not a damn thing.

Only his target.

He skidded an inch to a halt at the street corner, his feet planted shoulder-width apart, arms stretched out in front of him. He was breathing a little hard, his eyes looking between his gun-sights, trained on a woman... a woman who was looking right back at him, holding her own pistol that was looking right back at him too. This had to be her. Aurora.

"Fucking cheater," he muttered. It just didn't seem fair that super-powered werewolves could have guns too. Archer's sense of justice always had been a little skewed. Well, there's no sense in letting her shoot first.

A bead of sweat trickled from his temple down the side of his face. With two pounds of pressure on triggers that only needed three to pull, he was halted from beginning the shootout by her words.

"This isn't what it looks like" she said fiercely.

His fingers relaxed, though he wasn't happy about it. He hated doubting himself. "Oh yeah?" he retorted. "So that's red paint on the floor is it?" For someone who was innocent, she was way too cool about standing in the middle of a murder scene. And the gun wasn't helping her case. Still, there was the general notion that these supernatural creatures never did bother to lie about who they were. At least, not in his experience. "I know who you are, Aurora? Let me see you're true form before I twist that wig back."

This was not good. With doubt now clouding his mind from those few small words, he couldn't pull the trigger until he had a sign. She could just shoot him at any moment. He watched her trigger finger as best he could but he was no MacKensie Trydant, as much as he tried to be. There was no way he was getting out of the way in time if she decided to blaze away. And there was no way she was missing at this range. "Or, how about you transform and we do this old school. Stakes versus claws. Or are you scared of a real fight?"

It was a lie, of course. As soon as she transformed, he'd unload both clips as quick as he damn-well could. But he had to try something to get out of this tangle.

[Lovelyleo]

Jane felt a shiver run down her back. She knew immediately that she was up against someone who knew the kind of world she lived in. She kept on gripping her gun, a little harder with every step her took towards her. Then the thought hit her. Maybe he was one of the people also looking for the same thing? Rufus had warned her that there were others, but she didn't know she would meet one so quickly. Especially when she was just getting ready to give up.

"I know who you are, Aurora? Let me see you're true form before I twist that wig back." the stranger said. Jane lifted an eyebrow the way she always did when she was either confused or unimpressed. Right then, she was both. Maybe this guy wasn't a threat after all. muttering about Aurora and wigs... "Fuckin' splendid. A junkie of my own" she muttered angrily. But out of the doubt that she still had about him being after the same thing she was, she decided to give him a chance.

She lowered her gun cautiously and tucked it in her waistband where it had been before. She raised her hands in a sign of surrender, trusting that he would not shoot. Finally she allowed herself to relax a little and ran a hand through her long hair, sighing heavily.

"Yes that's exactly what it is. Red paint. You fuckin' idiot" she told him harshly. She would give him the benefit of the doubt, but that didn't mean she couldn't be herself. Plus he was starting to get on her nerves, with his shiny guns and his know-it-all attitude.She decided if she was going to find out what he really wanted, she might as well test him. Any other person's reaction to such a crime scene would have them doubling over puking everywhere. He, however, seemed quite comfortable.

She walked over to where one of the pieces of skin lay and pointed at it, looking back towards him. "That right there is someone's skin. And in case you can't tell, it's not stuck to the pavement, so it hasn't been here for long" she told him. She walked over to the human spine and pointed at it sarcastically, turning to him once more "This is a spine. I know I know, quite the anatomy lesson today, eh?" she said bitterly.

Seeing as he still had not shown any signs of being just a regular civilian or a policeman, she decided to take it a step further. He would either think she was nuts or agree with her. Either way, she might come out winning. A little help from someone never hurt. And even if he refused to help her...well she had ways of extricating information.

"I don't know who the fuck Aurora is, but it's not me. My name's Jane Mason, and this is truly not what it looks like. I didn't kill this person. Hell, I'm too small to make all this damage" she said raising her arms and twirling around in a circle for emphasis. "I was going out to get some food and I heard the scream. Now it just so happens I'm looking for something that would cause this kind of mess. You know, the wolf who escaped from the zoo" she told him. She was now standing still and looking right at him.

"I hear the wolf comes out at night and so I took a chance" she said not wanting to reveal the whole truth. If she mentioned the world werewolf he might think she was the junkie. And she was not about to scare away the only possible lead she had.

"So if you wouldn't mind, lower those water guns and tell me what you're doing here" she said, coking her hips and crossing her arms. Any sleep she was thinking about getting had just been thrown out the window.