The air around the town is all brown from the dirt that had been kicked up in the last ten minutes. Where there had been nothing but high pitched shrills and the sounds of gunfire reverberating throughout the small town, coming from all the houses whose doors had been kicked in and the exterior riddled with bullets. From one house, a low whimpering mewling sound could be heard until it was simply ended with the sound of a single gunshot.

From the slow methodical steps what emerged from the entrance was a towering behemoth; covered in a thick black-greyish bodysuit that looked like it weighed more than what should have been possible for a normal person to bear. Combined with the unusually large assault rifle it carried, seemed like this would have weighed even the strongest of men down and yet this being carried it with an ease that was almost graceful. It wore a dome shaped helmet made out of a thick layer of clear polycarbonate, so that everyone who had the misfortune to run into it could see the skull that would be staring them in the face.

It stands in the middle of the small town and lets out a few muffled clicks from its jaw to signal that it was done with its job. It almost immediately got responses as more rattled clicks began to emit from nearby houses that just moments ago had seemed far to quiet. Three more emerged from houses, one with a bit of blood on its hands. They looked almost identical to one another. The only difference being the weapons they carried and the unit number displayed on the right side of their chest.

It looked at its three comrades and noticed one was missing. It readied its weapon and headed into another house as the others simply looked on. Inside, it found its final comrade, pointing a longer barreled rifle at two small children not older than five years old, their eyes were bloodshot and puffy but now they were too scared to cry. Their parents were strung out on a bed in the other room, it had been a messy break-in with the room covered in small blotches of blood and a big stained pool of it on the edge of the mattress.

Right before the trigger could be pulled, It grabbed its comrade's Gun and lowered it, shaking its skull in a negative: small ones were to be brought back and rehabilitated. The one with the long barreled gun nodded without issue and brought up its wrist, which attached to it was a blue digital touchscreen. With its gun tucked under its arm, it began to compose a message to the makeshift base that had been set up a few days ago. They would need an extraction vehicle for the children since they had done the walk here on foot.

When the message had been received and an extraction vehicle confirmed by the base, the one with the Long barreled rifle walked out the door, leaving the children to the final Gate-Killer that stood before them. Taking its strap of the assault rifle and wrapping it around its torso to free its hands. It scooped up the two children in its arms and walked outside. The children, two girls, were too petrified to resist or fight back in any manner and in their terrified stupor focused only on the small red unit number on the right side of its chest.

137
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It was mid afternoon at this point and he knew that by the end of the day, he was going to be in real pissy mood. Since he was so close to Kenan he had already run into two jeep patrols who of course harassed him and only backed off when they figured out who he was. Now as he approached the bright lights of the City boundaries, he knew he would have to deal with these idiots one last time before he could deliver the news, oh and of course everyone would be stopping dead in their tracks to look at him and gossip for a little while. Afterall, it was always big news when a Runner came into town. Especially Bobby, who hadn't made contact with either Kenan or Koa for a record five weeks. Many of the Casino owners had thought him dead and it seemed that the leadership up in Koa had been preparing the possibility of his death. Which would have been a fatal blow, for Bobby was one of the best Runners out there though he certainly didn't look like it: dressed in nothing but dirty camo with worn down boots and a brown backpack with what looked like a modified hunting rifle strapped to his shoulder. On the other hand, despite his humble attire, the man looked frightening with a constant grim look in his face that was also riddled with large, unattractive scars. He was a hard man, but also a man who did not drink or engage himself in any of the whoring or gambling that Kenan was known for. He was never fond of the owners and was quick to make disparaging remarks to their faces. Some didn't care, others had more sensitive egos, either way no one could touch him. He was too damn valuable with the added promise that anything less than a Gate-Killer that had tried to touch him ended up dead or close to it.

As he approached the very well guarded entrance to the city, he could seen in the distance all the Casino lights come on as it got darker. The militia captain indicated to his men to be at ease, for he knew the Runner that laid before him and with a low smirk approached him.

“Bobby! We thought you had finally got licked.”

“Yeah well I didn't” Bobby responded with a huff “I was too busy working with the Angels and their assault on Echetus."

“Some other Runner came in here a few weeks ago and said something like that was happening, but she didn't know squat about details.”

“I was doing some scouting work for them for a while and the assault began last week.”

“And?” said the Captain anxiously. For this had been the first time someone had planned a downright assault on the Kingdom of the Gospel and the first time the Angelic Remnant had outright challenged Gospel's power, so the outcome would set a precedent that everyone hoped would turn against Gospel's favor.

However it did not seem the case as Bobby's appearance became more morbid than usual as he spoke to the captain in a hushed tone.

“It was a massive goatfuck. I'm fairly certain no one in the invasion force survived... it was messy. Plus we have a few group of Gate-Killers wandering about”

The Captain nodded darkly and motioned for the other men stationed to move out of their way as he led Bobby into the City with the citizens who first noticed Bobby stopping to murmur to their friend before heading back to their day.

“I'm gonna have to make an appointment with the Fatasses” Bobby said, referring to the Casino owners.

“Well they're not going to like it, the evening crowd is about to come in and they like to personally make sure things are being run smoothly.”

“Good. I feel privileged to personally make their day more inconvenient.” He said with low growl as the Captain took him to the entrance to a particularly large skyscraper that began to cut through the Sun's light as it set in the Horizon.

Location: An undisclosed alleyway in Kenan

Why in the hell did Wiendyns like cold, wet and damp places to hide in? Emmet thought bitterly.

His eyes panned the alleyway’s small confines as the walls seemed to lock the dampness, musky smells, and heavy fog within its crude shelter. Painted graffiti signs and ill kept dumpsters added their own décor to the already slummy scene, an unsightly truth far alien to the Kenan’s claim of the bright lights and mystic feel. He stepped just two feet in, each one echoed off the surrounding where he couldn’t tell if it was night or day. Seeing no sight of his target, Emmet’s head twisted over his shoulder to spot his escort and unwanted babysitter close behind. The demon, Juan, had a lite cigarette between his lips with a halcyon expression before he immediately halted upon feeling Emmet’s eyes. He inhaled a few more times than pinched the smoke between his fingers and removed it, letting a long wisp of smoke evaporate into the air. Juan’s face became pleased before he flashed Emmet a sexy smile.

“He’s here alright, handsome. So keep your guard up.” The dark skinned demon answered, and then added in a more playful tone. “I’m hurt you would doubt me after all we’ve been through.”

Emmet frowned at the last comment. His jawline tightened for a few seconds, his mind debating on whether to answer or just glare. It didn’t take long for him to give into the earlier and his reply became a retort. “Get over yourself, Juan. You’re not my type so cut the fucking flirting.”

Juan was unfazed by Emmet’s rude words. He just merely shrugged, out a few soft chuckles and took his position. Emmet’s eyes watched the demon leaned against the entrance’s side, still leisurely taking draughts from his cigarette and gestured in a wave of his hand to begin. He would be nothing more than a smoking spectator for the fight to come. They both knew this, at least until he was needed. Upon seeing the demon fall into his old habit, Emmet’s eyes rolled and his attention turned back to his original job. His hand reached into his over jacket for the pistol at his hip side. Once he felt the hard, familiar handle touch his fingers, Emmet pulled it free and clasped his other hand over the first. Pointing it downward at an angle, he cautiously moved forward. He ignored the mist clinging at his skin and clothes, the moisture made them feel heavier then they should’ve been, his ears strained for any sloppiness on his target’s part. It was quiet. Too quiet for his tastes that Emmet could hear his own heart thrummed inside his ears, his focus filled with the rapid pace and fear created adrenaline started to rush through him. The energy fed his movements towards the other end but did little to assure his chances to survive.

Where the hell was he? The question keep pounding over and over inside his mind, yet there was only a blank answer. Not the type he liked.

Bang, crash!

His gun raised and jerked to his side, his eyes met the flash of bright yellow ones. All that was there was a sudden black blur as a cat darted across his path and vanished into the foggy distance. Just a damn cat… Emmet mentally spat while he felt relief wash over him, his weapon lowered in his relaxation. A mistake he would soon regret.

There was no warning.

One moment he was trying to settle his breathing then the next, he felt something heavy plow into him head on. Immediately the wind was knocked from his lungs upon landing flat on his back. His gun hand slammed the concrete and the impact knocked the gun away, the weapon sent skirting out of range. Emmet jerked his head to what hit him, his nose assaulted by the heavy, musky scene of wet dog. He coughed a bit and stared into the Wiendyn’s pure white eyes, the creature’s black lips pulled back to expose the glistening teeth. Emmet’s first instinct rose to the surface and he began to struggle under the hand like paws pining him to the ground. The wetness (and only God knew what else) seeped into his over jacket, dampening the white dress shirt underneath, while his hand painfully slowly edged for his knife. The secondary weapon was at his side, difficult to get to when his shoulder was weighed down.

Come on…come on, Emmet inwardly pleaded. His eyes flashed with fear upon seeing the beast’s head rear back, preparing to rip out his throat. Then devour him in the most bloodied way. His fingers tried to hasten their reach and his desperate drove him onwards, but felt fruitless in his effort. It won’t end this, he couldn’t let it.

The moment his fingers grasped the knife’s edge was when the Wiendyn howled its victory. Two things happened at once. Fangs hurtle for his throat and the glint from his knife once pulled from his pocket.

A sharp yelp as the sliver blade pierced into the wolf’s arm. It sank through fur and muscle causing the beast to leap away, its form sank back into the fog. Too close, he couldn’t stop the phrase from entering into his skull. A sinking feeling seemed to wrap about his heart while he felt the cold air once again enter his lungs. It hurt, overpowered his sore back and seemed to be an endless, dull throbbing. That’s when his ears caught a dreadful sound. A noise, despite its innocence, had filled Emmet with both panic and anger. It was the soft, brief clink of his dagger being tossed away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Emmet’s irritated voice blurted out.

He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping twice, just to end up facing the attack. Naturally it wasn’t a surprise to fall short. He was only human and unlike the Wiendyn, whose superior strength and speed was enhance thanks to the demon essence, couldn’t compete in the same weight class even through sheer will. It was a rotten disadvantage in Emmet’s opinion. Namely one he had to work around time and time again. A furry backhand sent him flying. Emmet’s legs left the ground, backwards into the rusty dumpster and denting it. The rustic sound vibrated off the alleyway but he only heard the soft, fleshy pop, his hand rushed to clasp his shoulder. His face twisted up in pain when he realized the socket felt wrong. It was dislocated and hung there, an ache exploded where he touched. A series of curses poured from his lips and spilled out into the air taking a single breath that soon became heavy gasps. He had landed wrong upon his arm. He knew this because it was going to be useless for a bit, in addition his ribs were bruised. That was over looked by the shoulder’s intense one yet flooded in soon after it died. Emmet only had enough time to prop himself up when the beast rushed him again.

The Wiendyn, driven by instinct, launched its teeth to his throat. It was far too fast for Emmet to raise an attack to counter and his eyes watched the teeth lower to where his neck and shoulder connected. The teeth sank in.

Eyes widen with shock as instead of the soft flesh, its teeth had seemed to hit stone. Emmet gave a wicked smirk. His hand was placed against the ground but his appearance hadn’t changed, his skin still looked normal albeit harder. He had the surprise advantage and aimed to use it to its fullest. The beast‘s mouth tightened its hold, sought to push past his hardened skin and to the tendon beneath, his skin’s texture seemed unpleasant for it to swallow. It was just enough time for Emmet to return the favor.

His hand fisted and fingers tight into a hard ball. Without a flinch, he put all the force he could muster behind and swung. It connected at the Wiendyn’s snout, the teeth forced loose with a yelp and a loud rip, sending it backwards. It shook its head, little dazed by the fist’s toughness. As it was clearing the stars, soft and frustrated growl were heard, its bleeding jaws left droplets behind. The eyes turned up to face Emmet. He could see the fury from the ears pinned back and bristled fur to the wide open eyes, all made it very clear it was very, very pissed.

“Why hell did you chose today, of all damn days, to have your time of the month?” Emmet asked referring to the monthly change every Wiendyn went through and not the mythical bullshit of a full moon. In seconds, his Terra Skin melted away leaving a dark bruise where the beast had bitten but his vision focused on the large rips in his over jacket. Darius was going to be furious causing Emmet to sigh, his head filled with the mental image from the discussion to come. He didn’t dwell on it long.

How his mind always managed to have focused was a mystery to him. His ability to push past the agony racing through him, the numbness his arm had started to feel or the instinctive fear embedded in his being, Emmet wasn’t sure where it came from. Merely that he could. This wasn’t the first time or would be the last, his encounters usually ended up much worse. Maybe it was the need to survive. Could’ve been he acknowledged his terror, yet controlled it. He wasn’t certain as there seemed to be endless answers. One thing he knew, he didn’t want to die here and leave his sister alone. Emmet’s hand poured his essence into the ground. A chuck of stone shot up from the ground, the height the same as his foe, then it started to mold and shift like some invisible artist was chiseling away the unneeded. At last, the puppet’s skin softened into fur so real looking, Emmet sometimes forgot the thing was made completely from earth. By the time the wolf had cleared away the daze, there stood a stone replica of itself snarling back. The original clashed with the copy, the titans lashed out in a physical combat just several feet away.

Emmet pushed off the dumpster, the Wiendyn distracted, back to his feet. Emmet knew what he had to do, something he hated but had little choice about. Not unless he liked the idea of being a wolf snack that is. He edged closer to a wall, his good arm braced against it and his shoulder turned to face it. He prepared with a few test swings, readying himself for what was to come. Finally Emmet thrust his dislocation forward, impacting the wall. A loud crack and his scream filled the alley. His body felt close to buckling there, supported by the hard brick, his head absorbed the chill where his forehead pressed against it. Lungs seemed to be nothing more than useless sack weighing in his chest, completely empty.

Juan’s voice broke his misery. “I’m going to have to kiss that and make it better, won’t I?”

Emmet’s glare darkened and shot in the demon’s direction, if looks could kill then Juan would’ve hit the grave in seconds. “Just shut up…I don’t need your perverted peanut gallery!”

“Considered you’ve been knocked on your cute ass about twice now, it’s not hurting your game.” Juan said, bluntly ignoring Emmet’s last comments. The demon smirked and continued, his next comment increasing the burning hate and irritation Emmet felt. “Keep in mind, if this doesn’t work out… the left side of my bed is always open. I’m sure you’re a better love then a fighter.”

“For the last time, you are NOT my type!!!!” Emmet shouted, emphasizing the not, his face fixed in a scowl. His shoulder rotated, testing the tendons, despite the flaming needles running up and down his side with the movement. Once more assured it was in fitting order, at least mobile. “So go fu-

His words were cut short when his ears caught the crumbled sound of the Wiendyn beheaded the puppet. With a single swipe, its claws tore easily through the neck and sent it to shatter into the side wall. Its eyes turned upon him next, its body lowered to all fours and charged. Emmet’s palms flicked upwards causing a wall to shoot up between them and keeping the beast from ripping his throat out. He smiled when he heard a loud thump sounded when it hit the barrier. His head turned back to finish his retort only to die when something white dripped onto his upraised sleeve. Emmet’s head shifted skyward and stared into the beast’s eyes, the teeth revealed through its black lips, from a crouching position high on the wall’s top. It would take too long to drop it and even longer to create something else. Emmet stood there, frozen, his eyes closed when the animal leapt. He knew he would shortly feel the pain of the wolf’s teeth ripping him to pieces and his life leak from his dead, broken body.

BANG, BANG!

Two shots, both instant and deadly, rang inside his mind. Then he was shoved to the ground by the Wiendyn. He braced, expected to feel the maw render into his skin, breaking it apart, letting the blood flood across his skin. The claws to dig into his clothes and underbelly, buried into the innards underneath. To gorge itself on human flesh until Emmet stopped struggling and it left him for dead. That idea, notion terrified him beyond anything, the fact worsen now that he believed it was happening.

Nothing…something Emmet noted when his fear died. A moment later, his courage spurred by the lacking clawing and biting, a single eye slowly opened. He started into the Wiendyn’s dead eye stare. A crimson line streaked across its furred forehead where a single, large hole had entered. Its figure was just dead weight now which pinned the man down into the dank wetness and murk within the alley’s environment. Thank God… Emmet let out a gasp. His hands shook even when his arms pushed it off and crawled out from under. Still on his back, his head turned behind him to see his own smoking gun held in the hands he least expected: Juan. The demon stepped calmed over to Emmet, bent at the waist and finished casting the corpse to the side. When he passed the gun, handle first, Emmet took it easily then holstered it.

“When I wanted to see you on your back, this wasn’t the way I had envisioned it.” Juan joked, his cigarette finished and tossed away before he offered a helping hand out. “Come on, you’ve got one more ‘surprise’ from Darius waiting at the Rabid Dog. Then you don’t want to keep Olivia waiting for you, do ya?”

Emmet sighed and took the help. He winched with the movement, his arm wrapped about his side and added to his already sour mood. He clearly didn’t find Juan’s humor funny. “Fine, would you mind getting my knife?”

As if he already read Emmet’s mind, Juan already produced the weapon and handed it back. The man snatched it, pocketing it, and then started to limp out of the alleyway. He could sense Juan shaking his head behind him and follow towards the Rabid Dog. They both knew they could use a drink. Emmet feverishly hoped they had something very strong at the bar because he needed it, badly.

The office was dark, lit only dimly by three candles burning their last legs on his desk and a single flickering light bulb that threatened to die at any moment. The ceiling fan swung dangerously back and forth as it spun, and while it hadn't fallen yet, there was never a guarantee that it wouldn't fall tomorrow. The room reeked of pizza and soda, and what would otherwise be a moment of peace and quiet was instead drowned in the constant noise of gunshots and people screaming. It didn't matter how many times Domino heard those sounds, they always made him turn up his nose. Taking the life of another human being... Nothing I'd like to do any time soon.

While the sounds of bloody murder echoed through his very own halls, Domino himself was the picture of composure. With a long sigh meant to express his boredom, he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, It wasn't his pizza, but its true owner seemed to have completely forgotten about it as she whooped and hollered at the bloodsport playing out in front of her. Like the very picture of how not to look in public, Fang rolled around on the floor, staring at the TV with rapt attention. Because she was laying flat on her stomach, her clothes had picked up all the dirt that marked 'her' area of the room. She had a few small cola stains on her skirt, which has all tangled in between her legs, and Domino could see her underwear.

He shuddered. Seeing the mess she made every movie night was enough to send Domino into cardiac arrest. However, she usually did clean up when she was done, so he had no room to complain. The movie on TV.... some war movie that glorified combat and the military. As usual. If it wasn't anime, it was an action movie like this. Lots of guns and explosions, and lots of special effects and blood. Most of all, lots of noise and flashing lights.

"You're gonna go blind sitting so close to the TV all the time," Domino complained idly with a mouth full of pizza. "Not to mention you're never gonna get a boyfriend. And you're gonna get fat. That's right, you're gonna be a big fat blind old lady who just has a bunch of cats and cleans up after them full time." He punctuated his flurry of insults by swallowing the greasy pizza before starting at it again. "You're gonna be mean and smell bad and nobody's gonna like you anymore."

Without pausing the movie, his guardian angel looked back at him with a careless expression. "You'll still like me," She countered matter-of-factly, "so it's fine. Throw me another slice of my pizza please and thank you."

Domino didn't have a rebuttal handy. She was right, after all. Instead of more insults, he threw the empty pizza box at her head and turned back to his computer, staring deeply into the empty white void that existed where his "Open Case Files" were usually stored. The contrast was really striking when it was put right next to the bright red numbers of his expenses for this month. For a moment he took a deep breath and really admired the artistic value of the situation before rolling his head around with a groan.

"If we don't get a job soon, that's gonna be the last pizza we get to eat for a while. Hope you like instant ramen just as much as you did last month and the month before that." With a slow spin of his office chair he wandered over to the large cupboard which served as their 'emergency pantry,' opening the lid with a determined grimace. As the doors creaked open, the office's biggest secret was revealed within. Stacked floor to ceiling were cups and packets of instant ramen, several deep and several wide. It was a stunning display of calculated poverty, that no customer must ever see.

As usual, Fang was awestruck by the sight. It might as well have been magic to her. Somehow, no matter how much instant ramen they ate, this cupboard was always full. She never went shopping with Domino unless she wanted snacks, so she never saw this cupboard get stocked, only drained.

"See this? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner if we don't get out there and find work. Lucky for you, I've already printed out a ton of fliers. So you'd best get out there and put them up before the night is out."

The angel's eyes narrowed. "Hold on, why do I have to go? It's your car. It's your office even. You go."

Domino, who had seen this argument coming, waggled his finger with a smirk. "Ah, but I made them up and printed them out. I had to fiddle with the printer for an hour and a half. Plus, I went out last time, so it's your turn."

Fang scowled, but reluctantly snatched the papers from his hand. "Fine. But I'll be taking these," she said as she grabbed a bag of chips off the floor. "And... I'll be leaving this," she finished smugly, knocking the bottle of store-brand cola all over the floor before exiting the room in a huff, leaving Domino to cry over the mess that he'd be cleaning for the next two hours.

"Now... where to go first...?"

A multitude of purple candles in various shapes and sizes washed the small, stone-floored room in an eerie flickering light, as several elegantly-attired men and women sat crammed at one end on rickety wooden benches. Shelves along either side of the room were cluttered with small jars and bowls containing a vast array of odds and ends - dried plants, tobacco, dessicated animal parts, bones, and things beyond description. At the opposite end of the room, the outline of a wooden throne was just visible behind several gauze-like sheets of fabric in purple and white, and seated upon it a feminine form. A dozen women in all shades of skin clothed in loose-fitting white wraps danced around a candy-striped pole shaking rattles and bells, while a pair of men drummed at a frantic pace on rustic iron-framed drums with tanned hides stretched across their tops. The dancers chanted incomprehensible syllables and wailed as they gyrated to the rhythm, one by one collapsing in a fit of spasms, eyes rolled back into their heads, and then passing out where they lay. When all had fallen, a slender dark-featured woman rose from behind the veiled throne and threw herself down at the base of the pole, swaying from side to side. An abrupt flapping erupted as she raised a live chicken overhead and, with a frantic string of clucks punctuated by a sharp crack, twisted its head from its body, casting both onto the floor before the observers. Women squealed as the chicken flapped about aimlessly, spurting blood from its neck and painting the floor with crimson feather-strokes. Men feigned outrage as some sought to shelter their dates, while others seemed more concerned with protecting their own attire.

After a moment, the chicken ceased its death throes and a relative calm passed through the room. Momentarily, it was broken by the young woman who'd caused the calamity, "Se pou sa a pèlen touris peye bòdwo yo jiskaske ou wè anfòm yo montre kèk rezon." Save for a slight chuckle from a Hispanic-looking woman seated near the back, all were silent. Rising, Marie passed through the room, whispering something to each guest. The expressions that followed her passing were a mix of elation, confusion, and for a smartly-dressed man seated next to the Hispanic-looking woman, dread.

_____

Redmond Cruz tipped his chair on its hind legs, such that his back rested against the wall, and drummed his fingers casually against the table as he absently watched the monitor mounted behind the bar. His shift at the blackjack tables had ended nearly an hour earlier, but he lingered at one of the casino's less-popular bars hoping she'd come by after the show, as was her norm. Presently, feminine curves registered in his periphery, drawing his full attention as Marie arrived and approached the bar, the soft clicks of her sandals barely audible over the casual conversations around him. Delicate toes, polished in a French pedicure, peeked out from underneath the hem of her skirt, which was an ivory-colored lace affair that fell loosely about her ankles and tapered inward at around the knee to hug the curve of her hips and waist. The weave was coarsely textured with numerous openings hinting at the flesh underneath though, to his dismay, none afforded the view he sought. He lingered a moment at her midriff, left bare between the skirt's waistline and a snug-fitting strapless white tank top. A small titanium balled post at the top of her navel held an amber crystal in place, while a second post at the bottom secured a set of thin uneven chains, each dangling a similar amber crystal at its end. Across her bare stomach, indigo lines traced out the open wings of an angel, whose form disappeared beneath her waistline, descending places he'd tried his hardest to imagine. As for a heavily stylized heart covering the back at her left shoulder just above the scapula, imagination hadn't been necessary, though that portion of her smooth canvas held slightly less lure. The heart itself was a curious design, however, and Redmond had asked her about it once after a few too many drinks, but didn't recall the details of the conversation beyond them having something to do with an obscure mythology. He couldn't say whether he was in love with Marie or not, but her presence always held him captive and this night was no exception.

He'd scarcely left his seat to join her when a young woman with a mocha complexion and straight hair that fell mid-way down her bare back in a shimmering black sheet approached Marie timidly. Her burgundy cocktail dress fit perfectly, suggestive in what it revealed but modest where it counted, and was perhaps tailored to do so, as it tastefully followed the curve of her prenatal belly, maybe five months along by the look of it. "Excuse me. Miss Lily? May I ..." Her soft voice carried a thick Latin accent, but her voice was too low and Redmond's distance a little too guess at its origin.

Marie exhaled a long stream of fragrant smoke, rich with chocolate and raisin tones, then shifted her position on the stool slightly to fully acknowledge the young woman. "Wi?" Studying the young woman for an instant, Marie noticed her belly and immediately tapped out the cigarillo. "Eskize m'."

"No, no, it's fine. I didn't mean to bother you but, I ... it's." She paused for a moment, evidently bothered about something, but uncomfortable with the subject and uncertain as to how to proceed. "Your show. I saw one like it once, a long time ago, but it ... it was real." Where she appeared less direct with her eye contact previously, the young woman now studied Marie's expressions intently. If she'd expected surprise or disbelief, she got none. Instead, Marie slipped her foot around a leg of the adjacent stool and slid it out.

"The show. I remember you. They put Lily on the posters, but it's Mamarié. Ki sa ki nan sa a sou?"

The young woman took the offered seat, "Myou Cabral." And that was the last of the conversation Redmond could make out for several minutes, though he took a nearby seat at the bar thinking proximity might make the difference. It didn't, but he was able to work out that the young woman spoke something at least reasonably close to what he heard in fragments from Marie daily, though it was clear from their frequent pauses that it wasn't a perfect match.

"He doesn't come home some nights. I have these horrible nightmares and .. .and then I wake up with these." There was an uncomfortable pause as Mayou looked around nervously for a moment, then angled herself toward the bar and lifted the hem of her dress up high enough to reveal a portion of her belly. Marie studied it carefully, drawing back the fabric from a couple spots and touching them lightly. Though the entire maneuver was skillful enough that none were afforded an opportunistic view, Mayou's eyes darted around the room anxiously until Marie withdrew her hand and helped the young woman restore the dress.

After continuing on for another short while, the pair rose and the young woman handed Marie something small - small enough that they exchanged it with finger tips - then walked away. Redmond took that as his queue and slid into the seat she'd vacated. "So what was that all about?" When Marie responded by re-igniting her cigarillo and sipping at a snifter of tequila, he changed his tack. "Ok, so I get it, you're not interested. Can you at least say no again? Or something?"

Marie downed the remainder of her drink and stood, slipping the strap of a coarse white messenger bag, trimmed in lace and with silver fittings, over her shoulder. "The woman, Myou. Her man's gone missing. I need a ride."

"And how's that your business?" Redmond realized instantly what a jerk he must've sounded like and wasn't surprised when Marie rolled her eyes and started off. He caught her arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Where to?"

_____

Steam rolled up through a litter-lined storm drain, momentarily washing the pair in warmth and the smell of stagnant runoff as Redmond eased his bike, an almost completely chromed chopper, up onto the sidewalk across from a solid-looking two-story block structure with both windows and walls painted the same dull shade of black. Redmond flipped down the kickstand with a booted heel and settled back into the seat for a moment. The roar of bass rumbled through the building's walls as if they were nonexistent and the occasional opening of a pair of copper-handled red velvet doors let loose a deafening tide of musical mid-ranges with undertones of chatter. It was the freakish, near-stagnant procession inching through a corral of thick velvet ropes, supported by copper posts styled in similar fashion to the door's fixtures, that gave him pause. While the assemblage of leather, lace and latex - breathtaking in both its diversity of style and strategic minimalism - might have otherwise raised an eyebrow, Cruz was drawn instead to a handful that stood out even among that. A well-muscled young man, clothed solely in black latex shorts that left far too little to the imagination, crawled along the sidewalk behind a curvaceous young woman in a less revealing black latex dress. Her hair, a teased out pair of platinum and fuchsia ponytails jutting out from either side of her head, struck a sharp contrast against the sea of black, like fireworks against a night sky. As the line inched forward, she gave a sharp yank at a leash held casually in one hand, tugging the young man at her heels forward by what could only be described as a bit and bridle. As he scampered on hands and knees along the sidewalk, he drew his eyes upward from her stiletto-heeled boots along the lengths of her mesh-stockinged calves toward the promised land, only to be cut short by the sharp smack of a riding crop she held in her other hand. The searing in his backside spurred him forward. "Get the fuck back behind the rope!" shouted a broad, well-muscled member of staff, as indicated by a size-too-small black t-shirt bearing the simple identifier "Staff". His thick, protruding brow and general abundance of dark facial and arm hair lent him a neanderthal-esque appearance befitting the bouncer stereotype.

Redmond quickened his step to keep pace with Marie, who'd already slipped from the bike and closed half the distance to the entrance with a purposeful gait. "Geez, Lil. If I'd known we were coming here, I'd have worn my ass-less chaps." For whatever reason, he'd always called Marie by the stage name the casino gave her, which itself came from her last name, La Fleur, and someone in marketing mixing that up with fleur-de-lis. It literally took the geniuses in promotions all of five minutes to brand her show Voodoo Lily.

"Ou gen yon manman bourik bèl. Maybe next time."

"Next time? Wait, what else did you say? Seriously, damn it, stop with the French, or whatever the hell that is, already!" Truth be told, Redmond could lose himself for days in the quirky lilts and twangs of her accent, which seemed to flow effortlessly between graceful flourishes and slurred contractions, pocked with missing articles and conjunctions - at least in the parts he could understand. He trailed behind, watching her hips sway, savoring that fact that, regardless of the circumstances, he'd finally gotten her out on a date. Marie barely paused as she approached the head of the line, cordoned off by velvet rope and bolstered by another of the blocky door attendants, slowing only to fish a crumpled bill from her bra's lacy embrace. His brutish hand moved to prevent her passage, but was coolly intercepted by her own delicate one as fingers pressed the bill into his palm. The exchange was so fluid that few even registered the exchange until the ropes had parted and she'd slipped through the velvet doors beyond with Redmond close behind.



Sensory overload left Redmond dazed as the surging bass that had permeated the walls from the exterior now fully assaulted his system, coursing through his body. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to both the dim lighting and the billowing clouds of smoke, giving him to realize that what he'd seen outside paled in comparison to the wanton debauchery within. Bodies churned against one another, some dancing and some indulging in lewd acts, though the difference was only by degrees in the squirming masses that moved with the pounding beats like a frantic wave. Iron cages hung from the ceiling, all occupied, their nude captives bound with chains and clamps, though all seemed content with their predicament and they, too, writhed in time to the rhythm. In his distraction, Redmond lost sight of Marie only to have her reappear a moment later taking a long drag from a cigar and thrusting a shot glass of murky liquid into his hand. After he'd tipped back the shot - some rum-based concoction by the taste of it - she took back the glass and tapped out a large bunch of ash into the liquor remnants, muddling the mixture into a blackish paste with her thumb. Before he could draw back, Marie's hand was at his face, tracing a pattern across his forehead with the ashy sludge as she chanted something he didn't even pretend to understand. "Erzulie D'en pou deli, pwoteje sèvitè ou nan kay la nan move lespri."

Where Marie had previously seemed fixated on something imperceptible, Redmond could now see a faint flicker wafting through the air ahead of her, bobbing along with feeble currents like a leaf as it flitted among the crowd. As they made their way through the sea of bodies, something tugged at Redmond's core, drawing his attention to a barely-dressed auburn-haired young woman dancing against a dark, muscular man just a short distance away. Her skin glistened with sweat as her body writhed seductively, back pressed against his chest and his hands wandering freely across her thighs. Redmond lost his balance for an instant as his head felt thick and clouded, his vision became both blurred and singularly focused on the young woman - her eyes, her breasts - desire filled him. She leaned forward, arching her back as she pushed back against his pelvis, grinding against him. Momentarily, she met Redmond's gaze with lust-filled eyes that peeked through thin braids of hair matted with perspiration, then extended a beckoning finger. Her expression flashed a wicked grin as Redmond started toward her, compelled to answer the siren's call. As he neared her, a sharp pain shot through his skull, its piercing epicenter the ashen smudge placed by Marie only a moment earlier, and his vision turned double. Glancing back at the young seductress, in hopes of distracting himself from the pounding in his skull, he saw a scaly tail wind its way along her calf and upwards along her thigh until it disappeared underneath her skirt. Staggering back, Redmond bumped into Marie. "What the fuck did you give me?!?" He shouted but the words were barely audible over the blaring of the speakers. Her reply was calm and seemingly effortless, though he heard it plain as day in his head despite the cacophony surrounding them. "Fè atansyon. You in the house of ubio and we about to piss on the couch. Kenbe kaka ou ansanm."

Marie tugged at Redmond's shirt, not letting go even after his momentum had returned which was, no doubt, for fear of him being baited by another seductress. He noticed that her movement was much more purposeful now and her gaze fixed on a neatly groomed thirty-something, shirtless but still wearing well-tailored black slacks that were unmistakably high-end - the kind Redmond only noticed on the high rollers. Scattered along the length of his neck and down across the upper part of his chest were a number of fresh bruises, almost certainly hickeys, and some quite dark. He stood looking somewhat dazed as a tall, dark-featured woman with long, straight raven hair streaked with teal ribbons licked at his earlobe, apparently whispering something as well before turning off through the crowd toward the back of the club. Marie moved quickly, releasing her grip on Redmond's shirt and nearly losing him among the gyrating throng, in her pursuit of, to his surprise, the woman. What he'd overheard of the conversation in the casino bar had led him to believe they were there to return the husband, not confront the mistress, so he hastened to keep up until it was clear he'd be able to follow no further. The door to the ladies room swung closed with both Marie and the raven-haired woman inside.

Redmond paced nervously for a moment or two, perking up each time the door opened only to have his wait extended with each random young woman who exited. Then it happened. A loud crash - loud enough to be heard over the music for those near the door. Without hesitation, he burst through to find Marie pressed against the wall where an automatic hand dryer had once been, the mistress' forearm bearing down on her neck with such force that murder was the evident intent. For her part, Marie looked as calm as one might in such a predicament and appeared to be fumbling through her bag with an unguided hand as she gasped for air. Redmond snatched a handful of the woman's hair and yanked her back, giving Marie an instant of freedom, before the woman turned on Redmond and, though his frame was considerably larger than her own, tossed him backward almost effortlessly into a large metal dispenser on the opposite wall. With it's mechanism jarred loose, it showered him with condoms and tampons. With the focus of a predator, the woman closed on him instantly and he felt a sharp ache in his chest, almost as if his insides were being pulled out. As his vision dimmed, the shadowy blur of Marie's figure appeared behind the mistress. Marie swung for all she was worth, employing the considerable bulk of the fallen hand dryer toward the act of smacking the woman squarely across the shoulders. In his semi-conscious haze, Redmond watched as Marie snatched at the raven hair with both hands, shoved a sandaled foot against her back, and pulled. Hard. So hard that the skin on the woman's face stretched in unnatural ways, her eyes slanting up, her mouth curling up into a bizarre sort of grin before something snapped, or tore, or something. In an instant, the woman's skin simply slipped free and slid up over her head like a macabre body suit. Underneath, the woman's form was plainly visible but shaped entirely of flame, cold flame that chilled Redmond to the core. Thankfully, it turned from him and clutched desperately at the suit, or skin, or whatever had previously concealed the flames underneath. Marie spat at the flames as she tugged the dermal appendage toward a stall and stuffed one end into a commode, then kicked at the flush lever until a whoosh sucked the skin halfway through the bowl. The flames hissed and knocked her backwards, again seeking to choke the life out of the young woman, when a pair of shadows slipped from under a sink and forced the creature through a window leading into an alley behind the club. There was a shriek and then silence.

Laying against the tile floor, Marie reached over into her bag to fetch a hand-rolled cigarillo and match, coaxing the former to life and taking several deep drags before Redmond spoke. Settled with his back against the wall, he tried to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. "What the fuck, Lily?" Eloquence departed some time earlier, but even at that, he hadn't mustered enough speech to specify exactly what he was referring to. Was he asking her what happened, what she'd given him to induce those hallucinations, what that thing was, or what carried it out the window? The end of the cigarillo lit up as Marie inhaled deeply, letting out a single puff that expanded into a ring as it rose toward the ceiling. "Soucouyant."

Redmond's nerves got the better of him. "Enough with the fucking French! I'm serious!"

"A soucouyant. Like a vampire. Them marks on Myou's man. Them and the ones on Myou's belly was both hers. That's some hate manje sou ti bebe an."

"But what about ... " Marie cut Redmond's next question short, "Sou yon lòt lè? Can you just take me home, get me drunk, maybe we mess around some, and you sleep on the couch I don't have?"

How could he refuse? She finally said yes. Sort of.

Alley of Adrianna's in Kenan

His eyes rolled up...the sun was unforgiving as its energy shot rays of light and warmth from its essence down upon the young man below. He was laying in his own piss and puke, his head ached from what he assumed was a good night of drinking. Although never had he ever found himself this lost after a late night. Then again, never has he ever turned 26 before and maybe drinking like he was still 21 was not a smart choice on his behalf. His eyes were glazed and his finger nails were noticeably dirty as his hands reached in front of his face and planted into the ground in order to support his body weight up into a sitting position. What happened last night?

Still dressed in his old clothes, with only one shoe on his foot he decided to take another step toward putting this night behind him. He situated himself to his knees and then forced himself up using his legs. His neck was sore and when he ran his hand to check the spot where it was sore, only a scab was there. He felt something off in his stomach but pushed the thought of throwing up to the side and began his walk of shame back home.

He was at Adrianna's Bar & Grill, he came here frequently with friends to shoot the shit after work and drink. What made this night any different besides for it being his birthday night. As he walked in the direction of his apartment building he stuffed his right hand in his pocket and took out his wallet which surprisingly was still intact. His drivers license, cash, credit cards, and other sorts of cards were all still in their respective places. He wasn't robbed...then why did he feel as though he had the shit kicked out of him.

He hobbled his way up the steps to the 5th floor of his apartment complex, room 504. Taking his left hand he clumsily shoved it in his left pocket and began crawling around the inside to snatch the keys resting at the bottom. He took the keys, slid them through the lock, and unlocked the door, while doing so his roommate swung the door open and yelled his name,

"Tristan!"

Tristan instinctively brought his hands to his ears, "Dude, my fuckin' head hurts, try not to scream like a little girl when you see me Kyle."

Kyle was Tristan's friend since college, they both decided to room up together when they were offered jobs in Kenan. Kyle moved first and then Tristan only a few weeks later, but a majority of the art on the walls was done by Tristan himself. Kyle was an engineer and a good one, but his lack of experience has had him working for a firm instead of owning his own.

"Sorry man, I just didn't know where the hell you were, and typically you do not stay over when you meet a girl, she must be something special...or you just couldn't get enough I guess, just glad your alright."

Tristan did not understand what Kyle was talking about, all he could remember was waking up in a trash filled alley with one shoe and dirty from head to toe.

"Kyle...what are you talking about...what happened last night?"

Kyle took a second and scanned Tristan from head to toe,

"Fuck dude, you don't look so good, are you saying you don't remember?"

Tristan made his way to the couch and plopped down with no regards to controlling his own bodies fall. He placed one hand on his forehead and the other supported him on his knee.

"Kyle, I woke up in the back alley of Adrianna's...I have been lying in my own piss for who knows how long, and my head feels like a hammer is beating it. I can only remember leaving work, heading here to shower, everything else is a blur."

Kyle's jaw dropped, "Holy shit...well go take a shower, get off the couch, and I'll explain everything up until you left."

Tristan wanted answers now, but Kyle was right, he needed food in his stomach, water in his body, and above all else sleep, but there would be time for that after he showered and got everything else done.

Wiping himself down Tristan was feeling slightly better, his stomach was still growling from no food and the head ache although weakening was still very noticeable. He made it to his bed room before collapsing on the bed, the room was spinning and so was his mind. He just had never felt so out of control before, it was a place he did not want to be for long and so seeking answers was necessary. With whatever strength he had left, he clothed himself and exited his room and made his way sluggishly with heavy feet to the island in the kitchen. There lay a large plate of eggs and toast, without talking Tristan immediately began crushing his food.

"Yeah, figured you were hungry, here is some water for that head ache."

Kyle handed over a tall glass of water and ibuprofen in the other hand,

"So what do you remember?"

Tristan continued eating his food and when the question was asked he took a few more bites and then placed the fork down, "I remember showering and getting ready for the bar for my birthday, after that...I don't remember anything."

"Jesus...well we were waiting for you at the bar and you arrived just a few minutes late, we had the first round of beers ordered and ready for you when you came into 'The Stone', we began drinking and just talking about a bunch of different shit and then we realized once we had a few beers in us that the bar we were at wasn't exactly full of life."

Tristan began eating again after swallowing the ibuprofen and drinking some water,

"We made our way to 'The Broken Mug' and then hopped over to Adrianna's, it was here where you met some chick while heading to the bathroom...I don't know...you were so drunk it was hard to understand you but it seemed like you were having a fun ass time."

Tristan choked on a piece of egg from eating to fast and coughed it up into his mouth and then swallowed it back down,

"You ok?"

"Yes I am fine...continue."
"You left with her dude, straight up dipped, you obviously asked for our permission to leave first so it didn't seem like you were ditching us, but it was your birthday...we weren't going to cock block you."

Tristan pushed the finished plate to the side and his head slammed on the table,

"You let me leave...completely hammered, with a complete stranger, who you never once even saw?"

Kyle smiled, "No, we saw her man, that's why we let you go home with her."

"Kyle! I didn't make it to her place! What part of waking up in an alley do you not understand!"

"My bad, I'm sorry, I mean you're fine now and it's not like you're body is cut open and your chilling in an ice tub."

Tristan wasn't even about to reply to that comment and instead thanked Kyle for the meal and headed back to his bed room. Sleep...sleep is what he needed, he'd sort everything else out after sleep.

Reflection of Mystery

Tristan's eyes opened from his slumber, palms were sweaty and his face was flushed with red. He was already on his knees but where he was had been the question, he rose to his feet only to be greeted by his reflection staring back at him.

"Hello Tristan!"

Tristan was taken back by seeing himself and before he could speak his thoughts were interrupted by the reflection.

"Welcome Tristan, Welcome home!"

Tristan was very familiar with home and this place, the place he was in now was not all home. It was cold but he was warm, it seemed empty and distant but he was present and existing. The place he was in right now did not make sense in his head at all.

"I understand! You areeee Confused! Don't be, just accept what is here and believe it is home! I promise you that it will give you everything you would ever want!"

"I don't want anything! I want out of here! You are not me, what are you!"

"I am you Tristan, in fact I am you right now! Don't worry, answers will come, I promise, but first...open your eyes!"

The reflection clapped its hands and suddenly Tristan awoke from his bed, he pushed the sheets that were draped over his chest and shoulders off to the side so he could then get up. It had only been 30 minutes since he laid down and he was rushing to the bathroom puking up the eggs and toast. His headache was still present and after he puked he actually felt slightly better but still hungry and weak from insufficient food. Tristan walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, quickly chugging the water, he then made himself a sandwich. Only able to finish half the sandwich he headed to the T.V. to see what was on, nothing...

It was not even 20 minutes later that he found himself throwing up the turkey sandwich he made earlier. Tristan was tired of hanging his head above the toilet bowl and wanted out of this seemingly endless ride of pain and frustration. He wanted his body to slide back into normalcy and unfortunately that seemed like such a distant thing right now.

-knock-
-knock-
-knock-

Tristan's ears picked up the sound of someone's knuckles cracking on his apartments wooden door. Wishing to see no one and talk to no one, he simply stayed put, until another sequence of knocks followed and another and another.

"Kyle! Kyle! It's me Christie!"

Tristan uttered the f-bomb under his breath and gripped the toilet seat until he could muster the strength to pull himself up. Why does Kyle's girlfriend have to be knocking now...he wasn't even home, or at least Tristan didn't notice that he was home.

Making his way to the door he swatted his hand on the handle twisting it and unlocking the door with his other hand. A easy pull toward himself and there was Christie standing in front of him, 5'6", slender build, and just right in all the places that counted. Her hair was blonde with curls and it touched the mid-section of her back, she regularly worked out and it could be seen in her figure. Straight pearly whites with green eyes and a strong head on her shoulders.

"Hi Christie...Kyle isn't here I don't think, and I am feeling like crap."

Tristan just turned around and made his way back to the couch, plopping down once more he threw his feet on the coffee table and just closed his eyes for a second.

"Huh...I tried reaching his cell but no answer, you definitely don't look good, what happened are you hungover or actually sick?"

Christie stepped in and shut the door as she asked her question,

"Christie...I just remember waking up feeling like crap and have been feeling this way all day, so yeah..."

Tristan really wasn't in the mood to talk, his body was aching more than ever but there was something that caught his attention and it happened when Christie walked by him to head to Kyle's bedroom. He could smell something strong, unsure exactly what it was but the scent made him water at the gums and he could feel his upper fangs aching just a bit.

As soon as Christie opened Kyle's bedroom door and walked in, the scent and sensations all left. Tristan could not understand what was happening he just wanted everything to feel better. Christie edited Kyle's bedroom just as quick as she had entered and then walked back out to the living room where Tristan was sitting, she chose to sit on the other side of the couch holding a bowl full of marijuana. She slipped the end of the bowl in between her pink lips and took a lighter torching the marijuana inside the bowl. Taking a big inhale she placed the bowl to her side and then let out all the smoke, after a few coughs she then handed it to Tristan.

"You want some? Typically helps with my hangovers, and well generally everything."

She smiled and seemed to of popped a wink after she asked.

Tristan and Kyle did not smoke as much as they used to back in college but they did share a lot of their stash with one another on week nights when they did not go out. It would be just around bed time that they'd both get together in the kitchen or living room and smoke. An hour later they usually would head to bed.

Tristan gently took the bowl from Christie and took a hit before coughing up a lung and giving the bowl back. Christie moved a little closer to hand the bowl over a second time and when she did Tristan noticed a band aid around her thumb,

"What happened?"

"Oh, my thumb was cut when I was cooking the other night."

Tristan could feel that aroma slowly drip through his nose and down the back of his throat. His fangs began to ache as they did before as the scent returned. This time however the smell was so overwhelming...his eyes locked on the band aid.

"Its nothing to worry about, I promise...see!"

Christie unraveled the band aid revealing a small, but deep cut. Tristan could feel the smell of the dry blood on her skin that has clotted the area in order to prevent future bleeding. He could not understand how he could feel the scent of her cut but something was driving him in to a frenzy. He no longer felt hungry or sick, no longer was he hung over...instead his eyes closed and everything after was a complete blur.

Living a Nightmare

Tristan woke up with zero pain, he in fact was feeling like he was back to normal. It was when he opened his eyes that fear struck him with a bolt of lightning. Tristan's eyes opened wide as he jumped up to his feet and looked down. He had been laying on top of Christie...her blouse unbuttoned and bottoms off. Dry blood dripped from her forearm that lay to her side palm facing up. Another bite was identified at her neck, there were no bruises, no indications of struggle, and Tristan could not figure out what was going on.

He swiftly walked to the bathroom to check a mirror once he spotted blood on his hands. When he looked in the mirror there was dry blood all over his face. Tristan quickly washed his lips and brushed his teeth but when scrubbing his teeth, he noticed his fangs were much longer than usual with a distinct point...that is when he realized

"Holy shit!"

Tristan yelled out loud at his epiphany, Tristan could only assume what had happened, he had heard of these types of incidences before but never in a million years would he believe it would happen to him. Just stories...that's what he thought, they were just stories.

Tristan walked out of the bathroom to examine Christie, standing there was his best friend Kyle Fraye. Standing over his girlfriends dead body, tears in his eyes,

"W-what-"

"Kyle I can explain! Just calm down, it is as bad as it looks but not in the way that you may think!"

"Shut the f-ck up Tristan."

Kyle's voice was demanding, low, and scary, it was the voice of a man who had lost everything and felt nothing. His head rose from hanging low and his hands began clinching and opening.

"Kyle, we were smoking...and then I saw blood on her finger from a cooking cut last night...next thing I know I'm waking up and she is laying right there!"

"Are you serious...that's your explanation!"

Kyle rose his hand and swung at Tristan, Tristan without even thinking or hesitating dodged the punch by blading his body to the right, with his left hand he grabbed the wrist that was now in front of him from the punch. Tristan with his right hand latched onto the trap of his best friend and then he pushed Kyle back. Kyle was typically stronger by a mile, but today Tristan felt stronger. His left foot stepped passed Kyle, and Tristan's right foot came swinging passed and up, then it came down in a pendulum motion, his heel kicking the heel of Kyle. At the same time Tristan would push Kyle's trap with his right hand and pull the wrist with his left hand. Sending Kyle off balance and on to the floor with a loud thud.

Kyle's head would slam into the floor rendering him unconscious and on instinct Tristan followed up with this sweep and lunged at Kyle's neck. His fangs pierced his best friends artery and the warm blood began flowing from Kyle's body and into Tristan's. Tristan tried pulling away, he tried stopping himself the minute Kyle swung, but he couldn't. Something animalistic, something inside him kept driving him forward. More blood shot from his friends neck and the taste filled Tristan with satisfaction. His belly was beginning to feel warm and full as his fill was coming to an end.

It was when Tristan no longer felt he was drinking, that's when he let go...

Tristan shot back on his heels falling to his butt and then backing up into a wall. He could do nothing but stare for the moment. Trembling in his own body he took his hand and began wiping the blood off his chin he had to now figure out a way to clean all of this up. He just needed to first feel his legs again.

Zi slipped past a big sweaty man jumping up and down with a hand in the air. Someone shoved their shoulder against hers and Zi’s silk shirt brushed against his skin making her expression darken with disgust. This place, this hellish pit, attracted her just as much as it repulsed her. It was a magnificent new world, hidden from the eyes not by gates and music but by walls and beat.

She hated it because the vibrating thuds settled deep inside her chest and dictated the beat of her heart. It was anything but sophisticated, it was barbaric, primal. It overpowered the sad sound of the Violin that constantly hummed in her heart. She loved it for that. Intoxicating like a sweet substance it trickles not inside your veins but inside your very essence. It confuses, controls, erases.

Another shove took her out of her trance. There was no dodging that here, not with so many people, not without becoming too obvious. But none of those people mattered right now… and in a sense, they all did. The bar appeared out of nowhere like a rock emerging from the waves of the raging sea. Before the push of the next wave came, Zi pushed herself up and sat on the cold surface, right between two men. They eyed her, gaze running slowly up the ankle boots, past the bare skin on her legs, reached the folds of the loose silky tunic where treasures would be hidden and paused. Then moved in unison up the light fabric, again slowing around her chest area and exposed shoulder.

Then they started moving down again.

She was dressed like a girl ready to party, they concluded.

In a sense she was.

The older man reached out and slid a hand up her bare leg.

Not in that sense.

Zi’s hand rudely slapped his away and the girl pierced the man with a glare that made his hand recoil further than the slap took it.

“Woah!” the man exclaimed.

“I’m waiting for someone.” Zi smirked a not-exactly-discouraging smirk.

In a sense she was.

The man seemed annoyed and removed himself from the seat. Zi honored that by resting her boots on his seat.

The young man on her left chuckled and Zi shifted part of her attention from the crowd to him. She didn’t remove her gaze from the people dancing but she did listen.

“Way to go, missy. That’s how you handle the old fucks.” The word “missy” made her smirk.

“Old fucks have money. Can you say the same for yourself?” She asked amused.

“Youth has other advantages. You seem to know that.” The young man countered. Zi had to wonder if she really knew. All the advantages of youth she could think of were Hazumi - “dense”, “naïve” and “dysfunctional”. On second thought, they didn’t even sound like advantages. Oh. she realized then. He was talking about mating.

“Yes, it does.” She agreed half-heartedly, losing interest in the conversation and shifting her attention entirely back to the crowd. The young man continued chatting but it didn’t matter anymore. Nor did the hand he placed on her tight that met the same fate like the previous one. What mattered was that right there was a person she needed to talk to.

Zi slipped off the bar and made her way to the couple. She could feel the bartender’s gaze stuck to her back like a fly. The couple went out the back door and Zi followed. Back doors were a wonderful thing, she thought, as were the narrow alleys beyond them. The beat of the facility swallowed the noise of traffic and the pushing darkness dimmed the lights. It made her hair prickle. The couple moved only a few feet away before succumbing to the desire to kiss each other senseless. Zi stayed at the door, lighting a cigarette. The smoke entered her and tangled around her lungs like a warm caress. She exhaled with a sigh, watching the smoke go up and slowly dissolve into nothing. She didn’t think of the Gatekeepers. The burning cigarette counted a few long minutes.

“Do you intend on stopping?”

The sound of her voice startled the man whose catch rest breathlessly in his arms and he lifted his gaze to her, exposing his bloodied fangs. He hissed possessively and proceeded with his messy business. Zi didn’t like killing children, of any race. But once in a while she had to.

As the hidden dagger revealed itself to pierce the vampire’s heart Zi had an unpleasant flashback that made her face cringe. She could do with less of Hazumi’s memories. Shoving the body away she rested the girl on the ground and reached for the white box behind the bins. She took out some bandage to swab up the rest of the blood and then used a cotton tampon soaked in hydrogen peroxide to clean the wound. He had been decent and patient enough to only go for her lips. The girl was going to be fine and go on with her life with the happy memory of a great night with a mysterious stranger who left her lips swollen and her mind drunk. She would wake up on a chair in the club and go home on her own accord, unsuspecting that she’d just lost a third of her blood and the future with a vampire she had a brief crush on. Maybe they could have worked out, Zi thought as she dialed the bartender’s number and stepped back, allowing the man to carefully lift the girl and retreat with her to the facility. Maybe he was the son of an elderly couple using up all their savings to get him through college. Maybe he had been decent before he’d met the girl whose blood he couldn’t resist.

Maybe.

“Rest in peace.” Zi uttered the neutral prayer and slipped back into the intoxicating light of a hundred fake suns.

Chimeric Lord of Chaos

Theme I\|/Theme II

Far from silence were the borders of the Western Realm. Damaged by war, bloodied by the magic and weapons of many a demon, but defended successfully against yet another assault.

Still, despite their success there had been death and loss.

But chaos had been wrought, and to the lord of the Western realm, chaos was power.
- - - - - -

Living walls shuddered as a presence swiftly passed through corridors between them. The citadel was alive with activity, though in the vicinity of the presence, everything scurried to other tasks, hiding from the shadow of their master. However, mistakes were made, no one was perfect.

So an imp stumbled from one of the many chambers and could not catch itself fast enough. Its body was briefly enveloped by an ethereal black mist, but the mist moved on seemingly without even noticing the demon that had passed through it. Nonetheless the imp laid still on the floor of the Citadel, time feeling as if it had stopped, as the young demon waited, too paralyzed by terror to think or make any sort of decision. Finally, after an eternally long six seconds passed, the imp rose to its feet, standing at a mere 3 feet including its horns, and skittered to the next opening in the wall in an attempt to return to its work.

To no avail, as the opening sealed before it, causing the creature to bonk its horns into the wall and fall on its face. When it rose it knew it wasn't alone, despite the fact that it felt no presence about it and could see, nor hear, nor smell the essence signature that ought to be apparent in its vicinity.

'I can taste your fear, imp.' The voice hissed in the demon's head causing it to freeze in place. “Please, no...I meant no offense,” the high shrill voice of the cowering imp called out to empty space. 'Watch your step, child, or you'll find yourself in the Wildlands before you know it,' the smooth voice would hiss once more before the imp's mind again went silent, leaving him alone in the murky light of the Citadel.

The imp sighed with relief, glanced around a bit more, listened to its thoughts, and then tore its own throat out. Blood pooled beneath it and the Citadel's walls closed in around it, forming teeth, and devouring it whole. It had ered.

Nothing was perfect, but only so many mistakes could be permitted. Stupidity was not one of these and neither was gullibility.

“Pestilence, the lot of them,” the same smooth deep voice stated from within the throne room of the Western Citadel. Sighing to himself, the lord glanced at another of the walls of the throne room, observing some of the goings on of his realm and checking the progress of various other projects simultaneously, his form shadowy so as to facilitate many senses and activities at once, rather than just one at a time.

As he worked, without form, but with many a purpose, Szayeis' considered how long it had been since his last excursion to the surface. It annoyed him that his recovery had taken so long and that other matters had decided to bring themselves into being to stop him from his usual activities. Of course, now he finally had a chance to go, just as soon as the Aide reported to him.

“The Demonic Rift has been opened milord.”

“Right on time,” Szayeis' shadows snapped into a humanoid visage and walked past the Aide, a smile etched across his features. “Your orders are the same as always,” the lord stated simply, a small amount of glee leaking into his voice even as he gave orders to the Nameless Aide who served him.

The Aide simply nodded its head, turned, and vanished as it walked down another hall. Szayeis however, exited his throne room and walked through a hall which led him quickly to a large undecorated room. Or rather, it would have been undecorated if not for the sigils, blood, and various assortment of body parts that were smeared, placed, and transcribed upon all of its surfaces. “You have done quite well brothers,” the words drifted from his mouth as he looked at the stable demonic rift that tore the space in the center of the room. Plumes, wisps, and sparks of multicolored essence bled from the false gateway making it feel as if the room was stretched to its limit. It brought a certain sickness into the air...but unfortunately for surface, this lord reveled in it. “Wondrous, now I can finally have some fun,” glancing to the nightwalkers who had created the rift he smiled darkly, one edge of his lips raised slightly more than the other. “Call the others and begin preparations for the next ten,” in shock the nightwalkers recoiled slightly, their forms expanding slightly before contracting and reforming as they had been before. Following these each nodded and departed the room leaving their lord to his own devices.

Rather than immediately enter the tear, he admired its handiwork, glancing over the sigils, surveying the quality of the sacrifices, and noting the essence composition of the blood that had been used. This all took around three minutes and upon finishing this, Szayies spun on his heel and smiled at a certain girl he had felt entire his domain a few minutes prior, along with her beastly companion of course. “Why hello there,” the lord said, his smile remaining, though his eyes glistened with amusement at the sight of the young woman.

“I had not been expecting a visit from you today...Aeris, but you are welcomed nonetheless. However, I do have a question for you, my dear: would you like to acompany me to Earth?” His tone was almost gentlemanly as he looked upon the changed girl. He thought that hell had done well for her appearance, not that he had much interest in children.

Amber eyes stared blankly at a sheet of music as a piano’s notes filled the air. A soft, but crooked grin tugged at the pale and delicate features of the girl sitting on the piano’s bench. As the piano sang in the key in which the girl played, a familiar female voice filled her mind. ”Mistress? Do you have to train with the Western Lord today?”

Stray brown locks fell into the child’s face as she turned to look toward the door of the room, finding a rather large, and flaming dog laying just outside it. “I don’t think so. However, it would be nice to see Lord Szayeis.” The melodic voice of the young girl danced through the air as she responded aloud to the beast.

The various flaming extremities of the dog rose as she reached her natural height. Her fiery tail swished once as she ducked into the room, and sauntered toward the piano. ”As you wish, milady.”

The dress the girl wore shifted slightly, though the piano had never once stopped since the entrance of the dog. When it finally did, the once small grin that had been on her face had widened as she beamed at her pet, levitating from the piano bench, to the hellhound’s back.

Ever the patient beast, Lisara waited for her mistress to acclimate herself before she began to leave the room.

Aeris sat side-saddle atop Lisara’s back, clinging tightly to the hellhound’s neck as they left the building, and headed toward the West’s barrier. Lucky for both of them, however, was that the building Aeris’ piano resided in was not a part of the Southern Lordess’ castle, and was simply a standalone construct of its own.

The pair passed through a rather large bio-luminescent forest, fast approaching the barrier with ease. The closer they got, the wider Aeris’ smile grew. To say she was excited to see the Western Lord was an understatement.

What would he teach her today?

- - - -

It took them a matter of twenty minutes to reach the citadel once they had passed through the barrier, and once inside, the living building had almost immediately taken them to Szayeis. As Aeris floated down from Lisara’s back, Szayeis turned to look at her with a smile that made her knees weak. Lucky for her, she had a seven foot tall dog that nudged her to keep her up right.

When the lord addressed her, Aeris found herself messing with the ends of her now long hair, looking up at him sheepishly. “Hello Lord Szayeis.” She smiled thoughtfully up at him her head tilting to the side as she studied him.

The younger Kasio blinked. Did he just…? “I’m sorry my lord, did you just invite me to Earth with you?” Her eyes lit up, almost seeming gold instead of amber. “Really? I would love to go!” At her reaction, she heard Lisara snickering in her mind.

”Careful mistress, the Southern Lordess might think you’re trying to steal her ‘man’”

Fighting back a laugh, Aeris awaited Szayeis’ instructions on what to do if she wanted to go. Sure, he was attractive (in a way she couldn't explain), but she doubted she would ever really want to, well, be with a demon.

As she waited for Szayeis' response, she looked around him, having completely missed the "decor" of the room they were in. "Whoa... Lord Szayeis, what is all this?" She questioned softly, a curious light dancing in her eyes as she looked at him. She seemed utterly unaffected by all the blood and decaying material around her... Except she wasn't. She was both bemused, and horrified. And even though the majority of her was amazed at the carnage, there was a small part of her that she had ignored for the last 8 months that was weeping in fear that that could be her.

Graham stood on the rooftop and peered over the edge. It was a dark night. One that seemed to stretch far into the vastness of space. The night was a dark foreboding emptiness that surrounded him and one that made him feel nervous, but at the same time nostalgic. It was as if the night was the blank canvas of his mind. His memories were like clouds that drifted in and out filling the emptiness with memories, of times where he truly felt alive and invincible. He could still feel his hands touching that fragile thing with little blue eyes. Oh how it looked at him even after the blood ran down and closed it shut for good.

Graham shook off the feelings, tightened his coat, and waited in the darkness. No time to be getting sentimental. Had work to do. Had places to go. And in this city where the lights never go out, vermin skittered about unseen, committing foul acts that required his attention. He looked from the rooftop and watched as the men passed by. Gunshots like poxes ran along the walls of laundry mat The women by the stoplight looked scared, but they still stood flashing their scantily dressed bodies for the nearest taker.

Pimps were in the alleyway between Jackson and Fairfield. Unarmed goons were poised in the Blue Lagoon, Shimmering Hotel, and the Midnight Ramble. All bars. Had a few drinks went out and then came back in for quick entertainment. Dogs that would follow their master to the deepest pits of hell. There was no plan tonight. Huge firefight yesterday. Rival gangs, a few got killed. Had to see what was going on in case, but it looked like all was quiet.

A hand reached out from behind him and patted him on the shoulder. A man stood there with blank mask with a wolf fur jacket. The Laughing Man.

“Out late, I see.”

“Usual. Thought there might be more fun, but looks like the rats are scared stiff. Probably the city’s doing. Can’t have people getting butchered in plain sight.”

“That so. Too bad, the 10 o’clock news had made it look like a real massacre. Blood everywhere. I came here during the morning, but the whole place was clean. They got some good cleaners.”

“Not good enough,” murmured Graham, pointing at the bullet holes.

“Ah, well, they probably left it for decoration. A little holes to put in the new streetlights.”

“Maybe so, you have time right now for some action?” Graham says, nodding to the thugs in the bars. “Thought they might be a little bored seeing they’ve been watching TV all night long.”

“I would, but I have an appointment on 55th and S. Main St. A bagger wants out before his bosses out him on keeping some of the cash from a drug transaction. Just dropped by to say hello before I left.”

“How about a quick warm-up then? Been a while since we sparred. Thought you might be getting rusty.”

“Heh,” said The Laughing Man, looking at his watch. “Well, thirty seconds then. I will show you who is rusty.”
“Heh.”

Graham does not wait for a signal and immediately begins his attack. A diagonal hook comes from below. It is an odd angle meant to be difficult to see. The Laughing Man does not notice the punch, but knows Graham’s personality for acting impulsively. He is already leaning backwards before the punch arrives and slips outside its range. However, Graham is like a chaotic torrent of wind and does not let The Laughing Man escape. A hook targets the left cheek. A straight punch goes to the solar plexus. And an uppercut disguised as a straight right follows a disorienting jab.

Blows come from the top and bottom; angles that the average man is not used to seeing. The Laughing Man, is not the average man and follows them meticulously, parrying them to the side. He uses his fleet footwork to keep an amicable space between him and Graham, but that is not enough to stop the man as he presses deep into his defenses.

Graham moves to grapple with The Laughing Man to stop him from dodging. His hands reach for the sleeves on his jacket, but his hands are met with a peculiar circular parry. It traps his hand, catches him off balances, and redirects the momentum of his attack back on himself. This must be Ba Gua Zhang “Eight Trigram Palm”. Graham has experience with this type of move and counters it by relaxing his arms, making it difficult to push him away.

As the two struggle with one another, Graham manages to grab a hold of the The Laughing Man’s left sleeve and works to flip the man over on his heel. The Laughing Man counters by leaning back and stepping on Graham’s forward foot. He pushes Graham. It is an innocuous move that kids learn on the playground, but with his foot trapped even the strongest man will loses his balance. Graham seems to realize this from the embarrassment of on his face as he falls backwards, but his pride does not let him fall without a last ditch attack.

He twists his upper body into a swing and delivers an uppercut before falling to the ground. This takes The Laughing Man by complete surprise and lands squarely on his chin, sending him reeling backwards into a wall. Graham quickly gets back up on his feet, but The Laughing Man is slower to recover. It was a good punch. He could feel his legs wobbling from the impact.

“I got you.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one on the floor.”

“If I wasn’t off balanced that would have knocked you clean into the air.”

“Except you were.”

“You want to fi-”

The Laughing Man raises a finger as his cell phone rings in his pocket. He flips on the phone and checks the message. His body language changes instantly.

“Got to go. See you tomorrow.”

Graham shakes his head in disappointment.

“Meh. Alright. Don’t get yourself killed. Only two of us here.”

“Will do and by the way. Next job I need a pair of eyes and hands. Already contacted an agency for additional help. I’ll give you the information after my work is done.”

“Sure, gives me something else to do,” says Graham, referring to the gangbangers and scumbags on the streets below. The Laughing Man nods and waves him off as he walks down the stairway to the floors below. He sends an automated text to an unknown number and then disappears into the night.

Two and a half hours had passed since Fang had left him the task of cleaning up after her mess, and Domino was only now coming back into a better mood.

"I guess that's all trace of her gone, as it should be." TV off, mess cleaned up, dirty clothes put away, and stains removed. Since she was actually out of the office for once, it was Domino's chance to enjoy a fleeting moment of peace and quiet. Or at least, it would be if his lack of customers wasn't constantly nagging in the dark corners of his mind. It was a tough situation to be sure, and in the end, Domino couldn't let himself sit in his office while business slipped away.

Hesitantly, he glanced out the front window to see his car parked outside. Fang had chosen to walk or fly to wherever she was going. Like the last few answers in a crossword puzzle, the pieces were starting to fit together on their own in Domino's brain. He didn't much like the result that was revealing itself, but there was no changing it now. The seed of inspiration had seen fit to sprout in his head, and he wasn't going to get a choice now. Thus, without much fuss, he locked up the front door of the office, slid into the driver's seat of his car, checked the floor of the passenger's seat for weapons (currently housing a 12-gauge shotgun, a small one-shot emergency pistol, and an antique Colt Python,) and turned the keys in the ignition. He grabbed the single-shot and tossed it into his inside coat pocket and set off toward the middle of nowhere.

Kenan was a big city, which meant the outskirts were proportionally big, and uncharacteristically busy. Residential areas bled into each other, and segregated areas that could have passed for several small towns mashed together like they were all in a rush to get closer into the downtown core. In one particularly bleak area of town, Domino pulled up to a small shack, not especially much to look at, but it stood out from its surroundings all the same.

An old business partner of his was housed within. Well... no, their relationship wasn't much like partners. They were simply in a similar line of work and had met more than once in the past. For Domino, it was never especially pleasant. The man was hard to deal with, and getting information was like trying to pull teeth. Asking for favours was worse. But sometimes, just sometimes, you might get away clean. Domino had gotten away clean before. He wasn't holding his breath for another stroke of luck like that.

Clearing the past away from his mind, like brushing away cobwebs, Domino ran a tense hand through his hair. It was the spell of the city that every moment becomes intensely important all the time, and secluded places like this only compounded that feeling. His anxiety crept up his spine, but he shook it off forcefully. It wasn't so bad, they were like old comrades, right? Just because Domino wanted something this time didn't put him in a vulnerable position, right? There was always the option to walk away. The single-shot in his pocket gave him small comfort, for too many reasons, but it was his wits that were going to see him through this encounter, and he hardened them like steel.

Three knocks was the code to enter this place. What came after, Domino could not remember, or else he never knew in the first place. Domino knocked loud enough that it could be heard from anywhere in the house, and then shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat, looking casual as he waited for a cue.

Collab: Synthorian, Mikael

In the southern district of Kenan, there was the Ultra-Lux: a relatively classy casino but nevertheless corrupted and powerful, if its owner's lackeys were anything to measure by. It was here that the birth of a new hunting season began for two demon slayers. Little did they know that their lives would soon change forever. Some parts for the good... some for the bad. The rest would be up to them to determine.

---

"So there he is..." said a mechanically distorted voice. The figure that spoke was a man in a tailored black business suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie. He also wore a black ballistic mask that covered his whole face and only revealing his eyes. His red piercing irises glared down at a body on a metal table. And on said table laid a chimeric being: a human and a demon in one. His face resembled that of the Grim Reaper. And surrounding the dead man was a squad of 12 large, heavily armed men in black armour, their faces obscured by the same ballistic mask that the Suit wore.

"Yes, sir. It's Grim's body," replied one of the armed men. Solus Grim's body was covered in bullet holes, each of them entering deep into the chest cavity. "No pulse?" asked the suited man.

"No pulse."

Despite his peer's confirmation, the elegantly dressed masked man was still unsure, so he placed his fingers on the dead man's neck. Like his Head of Security stated, there was no pulse. A mechanical sigh of relief came out of the Vox in the suited man's mask. "Thank fuck. Didn't think that girl could pull it off."

"Should I conta-" began the Head of Security. But he was quickly interrupted by the man in the suit, who appeared to be their boss judging by his authority. "No. Not yet, we must not disturb her with this news just yet. She wanted him alive."

"Which was stupid, if you ask me," retorted one of other black armored guards. The room fell silent at his comment, causing all eyes to set on him. "You want to tell her that?" asked his boss. The guard did not respond. "That's what I thought."

The room's metal double doors opened. Another two equally armed men appeared behind said doors, they were messengers. One of them spoke up. "The girl is here, asking for the rest of the payment."

"Ah, the one who slayed Solus Grim. Bring her in."

With a curt nod of acknowledgement, one of the messengers turned around and gestured with his free hand at someone in the corridor beyond.

---

Ralice sighed. Standing there in the empty ballroom, she felt out of place. She was usually at Solus's side, staying at his heels and observing everything he did; watching his back; making him dinner. Rubbing her forehead, she could not help but feel an extreme sense of betrayal ripple through her. Had this been worth it? That thought peppered her mind, but someone's arrival broke her train of thought. Her eyes narrowed at the young man and when he beckoned her to follow, her icy demeanor froze right back up. She was going to get through this one way or another.

They arrived in the backroom, and Ralice glanced between all of the armed guards and the suit standing behind them. In front of him on a metal slab was... her mentor. Her eyes lingered on him the longest, before looking back up at the suit and his odd mask. But she said nothing.

"I have to admit..." Began the masked suit, breaking the silence. "Impressive work." His own gaze started to linger over the body on the table. "He trained you well. But sadly, it just proves that most apprentices will always betray their masters once they have become their mentor's better. Ironically..." The suit gestured towards the body. "...he actually knew that too. I'm sure he saw it coming... Anyway!" He clasped his hands, a little too joyously. "I'm sure you are eager to receive the other half of your payment. Take a seat." He pointed towards a fold up chair conveniently placed beside Ralice's right. "It will arrive shortly." He nodded towards one of his men, who quickly left the room.

Ralice kept her mouth shut. Not that she had a moment to speak anyway; the head honcho seemed to like the sound of his own voice. Still, his words sank in a sense of finalty in her heart. She knew she'd use Solus Grim right from the get-go. Just like her lecherous uncle... and so, was every man a stepping stone for her to ascend to the top? She thought about the real answer to that question as she stepped forward. Her eyes, although resting on the boss's general direction, snake-eyed every nook and cranny of the room, raking in details that would serve her if needed. She flipped the chair around, so that the back was facing the man, and then promptly plopped down onto it, with her arms hanging over the side.

She tilted her head lightly, a wry grin slipping across her young, but hardened visage: a rare rose cast in iron. "He gave you a lot of shit, didn't he?" Ralice asked coyly.

"Not me necessarily, but some friends of mine." Replied the suit, that phrase almost seemed practiced. He was about to say something else when the double doors that lead into the room opened, and the man that recently left had returned, with a large, shiny suitcase in-hand.

Ralice ignored the double doors squeaking open, her eyes trained on the masked man. "I see...well, this has been good for me. Let me know if you require my services again," she stated coolly, remaining in her seat.

Her heart fought to beat rapidly as guilt tried to seep in and change her mind. But wasn't it too late? A fair question. She shuffled the thoughts to the back of her mind.

"Your capabilities have been noted for future reference. But for now..." The masked honcho took the suitcase and placed it on top of the body that was on the table. The suitcase itself was a Bulletproof Hex-Case. Its walls filled with Kevlar and Titanium Alloy, while at the same time, covered in magical protection. The lock was a bio-metric magnetic lock, that the suit opened easily, the hi-tech case pricking his index finger, drawing a drop of the man's blood and clicking open.

"Let me ask you something..." Said the man before revealing what was in the case. "What do you value most?"

Her eyes watched him work. It was just like before, a couple weeks ago when she'd received the first half of her payment, which had been 50,000 euros. She stood up out of her chair and stood next to the table, her hand barely touching Solus's right one. She smirked at the sight of the money, hoping the greed was evident enough. Her eyes darted up at his question.

"What do I value most?" she repeated his question, her brows arching up. She placed her left pointer finger on her chin, making a little show of thinking hard. "That's not a really fair question to ask a young woman, don't you think?"

"I already got my answer..." The man replied, her facial expressions evidence enough to prove his doubts wrong.

"Oh, do you?" she smirked coyly. "I also love getting my gun off. And other's..."

The man turned the case around, completely ignoring her sensual comments. "The other half. This is where we part ways. But only if you refuse another offer that I have for you. How would you feel about working for me? Under contract of course. Taking down someone like Solus takes a lot of skill. And I could use someone with your talents."

Ralice froze. An offer? Well, that would certainly save her the hassle of finding work on her own. He was certainly a business man: never to mix his affairs with pleasure. "Well... what kind of work would that be, if I may ask, sir?" she smiled sweetly.

Poisonously.

Even he noticed that tone, but he wasn't a man who came unprepared. He had his own tricks up his sleeve should this girl turn out to be troublesome. She sure did for Solus. "What you do best. Terminate individuals who make the lives of my associates difficult."

"Oh, I see. So... an exclusive service contract. I gotcha..." Ralice replied, giggling. Then she cleared her throat and pursed her lips. "Sure thing, boss. I mean, after living with Mr. Stiff here for months, it'll be very refreshing for a new change of scenery."

Her eyes glanced down at Grim's face, her mouth tugging to the side in disgust. She shook her head, sighing lightly through her nose. Walking around the table, she glanced at the money again. "Hey, you know a good bank?" she asked worryingly.

The suit nodded, satisfied that he just obtained a reliable tool. "Don't worry about the cash. I'll have one of my men take care of its deposit in your current account."

Ralice nodded. "Well good... I wouldn't want to be left waiting," she chuckled. "What's the next assignment, anyway?"

"All in due time. I'm sure your final encounter with your former mentor has drained you." The suit put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a key. "So please..." He presented the key to the young Merc. "...take advantage of our Presidential Suite whenever you visit this establishment."

The 'young merc' remained smiling at him, with a rather eerie stare as her eyes slithered down to the proffered key. "Thank you. That is very kind," she replied, snatching up the key, pocketed it, and took the briefcase full of euros off of Solus's dead body.

"Oh..." she mumbled, stopping as she made her turn around the table. She glanced back at the suited man. "Mind if I say good bye to him?" she asked as she pulled out a dagger.

The amused tone was a little obvious in the man's voice. "Heh, sure thing." He made a gesture to his guards, who left the room without a glance, with him following them, leaving the room last.

She smiled gratefully at the men. But her eyes, vicious as hell's bitch, remained on Solus's body. Once alone, she placed the closed money case down and hopped up on Solus, straddling him as she placed her elbows on his chest and glanced down at him with a bemused expression. Her dagger dangled in her right hand, almost carelessly as she struggled to keep her fit of giggles within. But then she sheathed it.

"Des'est, ret sau." she mumbled quietly, snapping Solus out of his magical coma.

She waited a moment, but remained straddling him. As he came to, she gave him a huge grin as she held her face with both hands and lifted her feet up to drift around.

"Good mornin' handsome... didn't imagine they'd leave us alone for a moment, y'know?" Ralice giggled quietly.

Solus let out a groan like he has slept for a thousand years. He tiredly opened his eyes to see Ralice lying on top of him. And boy was it a sight for sore eyes. Really, he was just glad he didn't have to look at Exmortis' ugly mug anymore, that pain in the ass Inner Demon of his, because god damn can he ramble. "I doubt they'll leave us alone in here long enough for what you're thinking about right now to happen..." The way she was sitting on him was a giveaway. Or maybe he was just plain wrong and thinking that low of her.

"You don't know what I want, remember?" she teased, but kept quiet as she assessed him for weird side effects from the coma spell.

His face winced at the soreness in his muscles, it would take a while before he would be able to get up, and he knew full well that Ralice would take advantage of that just to continue lying on him like this for a while longer. Before, he would have threatened her with some violent demise for doing things like this, but now he has simply stopped caring. Or perhaps he just felt like finally accepting affection from at least someone after all these years. He honestly wasn't even sure himself. "You... You brought my gun?"

"Heh, 'course.. and a little pick-me-up," she replied, scooting forward and grinding her pelvis (on accident) against him as she popped something in his mouth.

A small glass flask with a sweet odor. The contents spilled into his mouth, but wouldn't gag him. Not much, anyway. In a minute or two, Solus was gunna feel like a million bucks, both speed and strength wise. Her eyes lazily half-shut, Ralice then wiped his mouth with her free hand and kissed him softly between the eyes. Not being one to smother him (heh!), the Necromaster's young protege rolled off of him and immediately began pulling gun pieces out of every part of her body. Well, not every part. But damn near close enough, it'd make you wonder. As she began assembling the Maledictory Eagle, she glanced up at him, half wondering if he was gunna get up or not.

Solus slowly sat up and lowered his feet to the ground, sitting on the metal slab. He slowly realized that he was in fact shirtless, probably to help prove those gunshot wounds, one that Solus asked his apprentice to create with live ammunition, to her dismay.

But either way, whatever that girl poured into his mouth was working, he was quickly starting to feel better. "Is that a new mix you made?" He asked curiously.

"Yeah. It stopped killing my goats, so... seems it works?" she grimaced as she handed him his weapon. "But, can we like, hurry and kill everyone? I really gotta pee."

She pouted her lips innocently at him as she withdrew one of her twin berettas from her ankles and twirled it a couple times as her eyes flashed.

Solus swallowed hard after Ralice mentioning that 'It stopped killing her goats'. This girl is going to be the end of me... He thought to himself before saying as he grabbed the gun. "Really? You couldn't pee while you were waiting in the hall or whatever?"

"But I didn't have to then. ...Shut up!" she hissed with a bald-face lie, blushing as well and looking away.

"Right..." Solus commented, seeing the blatant lie. Every time something important was going on, she always needed to pee. It was like she did this on purpose, just to piss him off. He walked past her, leaning his bare back against the cold wall right beside the door, making himself ready for the upcoming slaughter and shaking his head. "We'll sneak our way to the bathroom, you can pee there." He glanced at the door, checking where the closest handle would be for him to grab so he could quickly throw the door open for a breach. "You memorized the place, right?" The Necromaster, hoping for the sake of his own life as well as hers that she remembered the floor plan of the casino.

Ralice sighed lightly through her nose. She was feeling rather tired, which surprised her a little. Normally she'd be all psyched up and crazy---well, she had been. She knew that... but something changed. Her eyes glittered up slowly at Solus, his demonic caricatured lips stretching with each syllable. I need to focus.

"Okay, okay," she replied breathlessly, "and yeah, memorized the floor plans. Didn't scan though, Could later..."

She groaned lightly, rubbing the spot at the top of her nose. She felt like they were going to die... which was an incredibly ridiculous notion. "Solus..." she mumbled absent of mind, the very same horrified-yet-calm look on her face as when Mikael Clalrian had almost slashed them both in twain about 4 months ago.

And Solus recognised that look. "Hey... we aren't fighting an Iotan this time. Relax, we just have overly equipped thugs to deal with." He said in a reassuring tone. "Ready?"

Ralice felt a little bit better from hearing his words. She took the safety off on her beretta and nodded. "Yes," she stated coolly, shelling up her heart inside.

"Oh wait, here... hold my money," she stated, half-smiling at nearly forgetting it. She handed him the briefcase and then decided to put her berreta away. Instead, she withdrew her twin daggers from their sheaths attached to her belt. Things were about to get bloody. She'd lead the two of them to the owner's office, kill him, and then they'd make their escape. That was the plan, anyway. Pressing herself up against the wall next to the door, she nodded at Solus to open the door just a little so she could peek out. As he did, she saw two guards standing at their post, staring down the hallway, and completely unaware of their fate. Silent as uncaring death, Ralice slipped through the doorway, hopping up between the guards as she stabbed both of them in the throat. Her arms raked back with all of her strength, nearly cutting their necks in half as they crumpled on the ground. She now faced the door hiding Solus, but she realized there were only two guards here.

Where had the suited man and his armored escorts gone? She had wanted to paint Solus's re-entrance into the story completely red.

With Ralice having found some bloody inspiration, he opened the door fully and walked up to his companion, firearm in hand as he stepped over the bodies of the unfortunate souls that ended up facing the teenager's wrath. "So far so good..." A little early to say that, but still... He asked her where the hallway lead, turned out that it lead to a ballroom that has only been renovated yesterday, which surprised the Chimera. He expected that he would have woken up somewhere in the basement area, well out of the way of the public eye. At least he didn't need to climb up another floor to reach his target, that will save some time.

From this point on he took the lead with his young apprentice in tow. They quickly reached the other end of the hallway, which had yet another set of double doors. He opened one of the doors slowly, creating a small gap that he could peek through. Sadly, he saw nothing on the other side, and his trigger finger needed its itch scratched. He opened the door fully and stepped into the empty ballroom, the iron sights of his Maledictory Eagle trailing his eye sight. And again, nothing, no living beings, not even a fly. This usually spelled an ambush, but he wasn't going assume just yet. The only real life this room has seen recently were contracted renovators. "Where now?" Solus asked his apprentice.

Following him made things easier for her. Both now, and in the past, for she really did not feel like a leader in anything. She could take care of herself, sure, but... it was terrifying to her to take care of another person... as easy as it was sometimes. Glancing at the back of Solus's head, she felt a sense of foreboding rippling between them and for a moment, she thought her runes were detecting magic in the vicinity. She ignored it, though.

"Hmm," she replied, stopping with her back against the wall and just off the corner of a turn.

She pulled out her smartphone and checked her notes on this place. And its schedule. "Oh, wow. I completely forgot," she whispered to him, "there's a ceremony going on right now, at the top level. Prolly where our target is, huh, boss?"

While she waited for him to respond, she was already looking up the building's blueprints to find them a remote, but safer route.

"Shit..." Responded the Chimera, he hoped there would be very few people around, but Lady Luck decided to give him the middle finger today. "What to do... What to do..." The man said in thought. The Owner of this lavish place might be there, but he just had this feeling that... he wasn't. His gut was screaming at him like something was wrong. Instead of letting Ralice know his thoughts, all he said was, "Maybe he is. Found us a route yet?"

"Yeah," she nodded and put her smartphone away for the last time. "Come," she whispered, giving him a brief smile.

She led the way around the corner and then to an unlocked door, where they both ascended a dusty stairwell. By the time they've reached the top, well, they were in good shape. Forget sweat. But Ralice's heart was still pounding, so badly that she could feel it in her ears.

"Give me a moment," she breathed, rubbing her forehead. "But yeah, um, just through here, we'll take a left into the servants' work area. Gunna scan and then speed us through it so... you know, stay with me," she explained, the last three words drumming the strings of her heart.

She knew that he understood the jargon. She'd use her Field Scan spell to locate all moving objects and organisms in an area. It'd only last 5 seconds, but her senses would become so attuned to the stimuli that she could literally zip through every little sneaking opportunity; that moment where a person's gaze was not looking at a certain direction. Yes, it was a spell that helped her find the blind spots of observation. She placed a finger to her forehead and concentrated... then lowered her hand as some of the blood within her faded with the spell's activation.

She stared off into space, seemingly distracted by something behind Solus.

Her mentor observed her, watched as she casted her spell. A smile creeped along his face. He felt... pride, pride for someone else other than himself. She grew up to be quite resourceful, as well as formidable. He felt so stupid for doubting her way back when he agreed to teach her. If only he could turn back the clock to backhand himself in the face.

He noticed her zombified look that went over his shoulder and beyond, causing him to tilt his head and slowly turn around, and see nothing. "You OK?" He asked as he turned back to her.

"Uh.. um, yeah, sorry," Ralice replied, blinking and shaking her head. "For some reason I thought that wall there, behind you. Felt like it was gunna... break."

Although the two of them would know that she has some skill in divining key future events, it had been many months since the last one, which had led the two of them into some really nasty business. Business that she did not wish to dwell on, despite it having nearly cost her the only man... no, being that she could truly love with all of her essence. That was what she felt about it anyway. She had to focus--kept that smile of his in her mind. It helped anchor her to reality, which for some reason felt like it was slipping away. What bothered her the most was that she really had no clue whatsoever about the possible causes. She needed to see a doctor. A shrink even.

Leading the way, the two of them zipped through many rooms and corners, staying low and stealthier than fuck. Actually, stealth wasn't even needed. Music was starting to blare loudly as though some party was going on. Everyone dancing, enjoying the lights, the swing of song... and there he was, in the back. She could see him from the shadowy area behind a pillar where she'd secured her and Solus's position. From here, they could spring into action...

"Damn this noise," she whispered in Solus's ear as she shifted her weight on her crouching legs. "Wish we could speak to each other's minds. Be easier, you know."

After a moment, she added, "What now?" . . . . . . . . A 'Rina Alice Genno' . . .

Solus assessed the situation. The noise could be used to their advantage to move in on the man. But Solus couldn't do anything from here. A shirtless man with a torso covered in bloody bullet holes would be a massive giveaway. But Ralice could definitely do something from here. The question was what...

"Alice..." He rarely called her that. "I need you to lure him out of this room, away from the crowd. The last thing we need is panic with people running around screaming. Don't want anyone running into stray bullets..."

She nodded to convey her understanding, but the very thought of going out there somewhat frightened her. It was so, well, just social. Even she was welcomed here, or at least she thought, if her recent 'joining them' was truly legit.

"Guess I could waltz in... all casual-like and sit eagle spread next to him? I dunno... Solus?" she replied before prompting him, her eyes squinting as she eyed someone.

"Who.. is that?" she whispered, her lips trembling.

In the distance across the dimly illuminated dance floor roughly 30 feet away, there was a table next to the head boss's table (where he was busy with several suited men, most likely discussing business, and a few armed guards who kept a professional vigil over the area). And at that table sat a couple people who dranked and chatted very lively, yet among them... somehow there yet not part of the conversation was a single, solitary person with a hood over his head. It didn't cover his face, in fact his face was visibly seen.

Dark gray as demon skin, with lighter white lines that trailed around his face like groomed facial hair.

He sat there very calmly, his one dark, motionless hand over the table, as though he was a quiet little wallflower and not at all concerned with the party. It seemed to the necromaster's protege that he was, in fact, staring right at him and her. Yet she could not make out his eyes, which seemed blacked out and thoroughly hidden... but his grin...

That rictus grin...

Ralice blinked, and then tilted her head. He was gone... and in his place was another person---just another party goer, holding a cup and smiling, and completely unaware of Ralice and Solus.

"Did you fucking see that?" Ralice whispered fiercely at Solus, her eyes searching his own. Left and right. Right and left.

He did. His face was emotionless and blank. But not his usual stoic emotionless. Just blank, like his soul bailed out of his body and ran for the hills. He felt deep down, that he knew this robed person. That grin, and that overshadowed gaze. Like a long lost memory. But he knew for a fact, that he never met this individual. The only thought that passed through his mind was, ...the hell...

A subconscious nervousness that he never felt before loomed over him. That figure just... vanished. He shock the thought away and said, "Let's... let's just carry on with what we were doing...." His gaze still fixated on exactly where the strange hooded man was.

"R-Right..." Ralice said, glancing up at Solus.

She couldn't see his emotions expressed through his body language, but in a way, she could feel his emotions. Maybe all beings became empathetic to each other over time? She knew now was not the right moment for soul searching, and so, she holstered her pistols and stood up, stepping out of sight by being completely behind the pillar.

"Let me think," she whispered, biting her lower lip. . . . . . . whose thinking oft-times gets her in trouble . . .

Ralice blinked, her focus dispersed. She felt like she was forgetting something. Sighing lightly, she struggled to focus her mental power into a single, efficient solution. But sometimes, effiency wasn't possible and you just had to go with the flow until your foes drop their cards. Steeling her nerves, Ralice closed her eyes and let out a slow breath...

And then she wrapped her arms around Solus for the last time, and pulled him behind the pillar and nuzzled him slightly. "Back me up okay? I got an idea," Ralice spoke to him for the last time...

The man nodded. "Yeah, I got your back."

Ralice gave Solus a wan smile, her eyes---the windows to her soul---misting up slightly, as though her soul knew something that she did not. She let go of him and adjusted her trench coat, the ends of up whipping about as she strolled into the dancing mob, her face all faked up and happy.

She was anything but.

Ralice let the armed guards see her approach, uncertainty on her face as to whether she could come closer, her intentions clearly to greet the Boss. After a moment, they let her through with a beckon. Smiling, she stepped forward and stopped short when she reached the boss's table. Her hands on her hips and tilted coyly to the left, her acting skills knew no equal. Well, maybe.

"Nice party y'got here, Boss. Throw these often?" she asked the owner.

As the boss got up, his hand clasping the shoulder of the man he was talking to, a gunshot, louder than the music and the noise of socialization, ran out across the hall. Blood sprayed onto Ralice's face as well as the mask of the Owner. And as Ralice would look at the Boss, she would notice that the man he was holding onto, was pulled out of his chair and his head was a mashed pulp, falling apart as the flesh of his skull began to settle and fall to floor. The Owner pulled him up, he saw this coming... And the panic of the crowd, was slowly beginning to rise as they realized what just happened.

Well, goddamn, Solus didn't waste time. But she kept her guise, acting surprised and wide eyed as she drew her '9 Lives' pistols and whipped around for the perp. In her mind's eye, she didn't worry about the guards behind her--she could see their movement with her scan spell, and a little blood inside her body vanished as payment. But Solus was gone, as had been expected. She crouched, her head turning left and right as she looked for targets.

And then, she felt the cold steel of a gun barrel on the back of her head. "Got to admit. Inducing a death like state in Solus could fool most... But not me..."

Ralice sighed lightly through her nose. Well shit. She wasn't even worried about the damage that a bullet in the back of her head could do. Her guardian angel was a nice buffer. But certainly her reputation was on the line here. She could slap someone's mama over this trite... error. Someone was gunna fucking lose their head over this.

"Well... that's one for the books, ain't it?" Ralice replied, standing up slowly and raising her hands in the air, her 9 Lives still firmly gripped.

. . . . and yet she remains uncultivated . . .

"Get the people out of here..." Ordered the owner to one of his men as he let got of the headless corpse that was once a living man mere seconds ago, letting the body slump to the ground.

The armed men began shouting and siphoning the panicking guests out of the room. Only for them to be replaced by more armed men. And yet... Still no sign of Solus.

"Where is he..." Wondered the Owner of this massive casino as he searched the room with his eyes. His men were doing the same, searching every corner of the room and even the ceiling with the iron sights and scopes of their automatic rifles and sub-machine guns.

. . . . like the dainty, little soul virgin she is . . .

Ralice wondered. Did he leave the room? A small part of her hoped that he didn't... that he would come rescue her. Which was a silly notion all by itself. These men... were no threat to her. Sure, she'd probably get scraped, punched, and stabbed. But eh.

. . . . and so confident of her own superiority . . .

Ralice balked. She kept sensing something that she was sure wasn't there. But something deep inside her... the inner most region of her essence... was screaming its proverbial head off.

She blinked, hearing the owner's thoughts spoken aloud. "You won't win," she muttered.

. . . . These weeds... are unfruitful... . . .

Then, an automatic burst from an assault rifle in the corner of the room echoed through the silence. One of the armed men crumpled to the floor, and the perp, was one of Owner's guards. His ballistic mask, something was off about it. The eye holes burned with a bright green flame. He turned his rifle to another armed guard who was simply just too slow to the punch, and got nailed with a burst of lead ripping into his chest. The rest of the guards though reacted just in time to let rip with their guns. From then on, it was pure chaos.

Sheesh. He even fooled me. Ralice couldn't help but smirk. As soon as he started blasting the guards, Ralice activated her pistols' 9 Lives enchantment. With her hands and guns already in the air, the enchantment locked them in place and her sense of gravity shifted. No longer affected by normal planet gravity, but instead her guns' own gravitational field, Ralice used the enchantment to then spin herself in the air right in place. She made a near 180 degree vertical spin and attempted to land on the guy who had taken her hostage, but he completely evaded the maneuver. Unfortunately for her, she'd been expecting success and had released her enchantment already to conserve its energy. This resulted in her falling down with a swear and accidentally letting go of her guns.

Her weapons clattered to the ground. "Ugh, dammit. Need more practice," she growled as she somewhat caught herself with her hands, but banged her knees.

She glanced up, seeing the man staggering backwards, presumably from her surprising aerial tactic. But then, her eyes still trained on him, her head bumped something as she tried to get on her feet. She looked up, still on her hands and feet. Her eyes took in the details of finely woven black boots, covered by a flowing robe with dark purple fabric, crimson trims, and white lettering adorning the material. Her throat dried as Ralice glared up at person. He wore an ornamental matching belt, with a large folded up collar. It seemed like the white lettering design became more over the top closer to the head... the face. The hooded, overshadowed eyes, and...

That rictus grin...

The guests of the party had long gone, yet the music blared on. This guest didn't care. Even as the guards continued firing at Solus in a desperate and yet hopeless attempt to kill him. This guest didn't care. The boss shouted obscenities at Solus and Ralice, cursing them for their stubbornness. This guest didn't care.

And Ralice somehow knew that fact, even as the guest bent over slightly, his utterly complacent smirk growing. He was here... for her... and only her. Even if she had been comatose, knocked out, or out of her mental facilities, she'd still know.

Because her soul would know.

Oh this world and its empty promises. So empty in fact that there is hardly a place to settle down. For them. Yes. These little godlings and their squabbles. So ... uncouth. But such is life. Hmm... oh yes. There I am. Yes. A Rina Alice... Genno. Whose thinking oft-times gets her in big trouble. And yet she remains uncultivated.. like the dainty, little soul virgin she is... and so confident of her own superiority... she has him to thank for that. Her eyes still captivated on him, unable to move, as if paralyzed... Itzal Slyre glanced at Solus Grim... even as he fought valiantly and with purpose. These weeds... are unfruitful. Except that one. I like that one. He is persistent. Hmm... oh yes, there we are... He looked down at Ralice, the shadowy element covering his eyes unsheathing itself only to reveal...

Blackness. Just more... blackness. And two little dots in his eyes... as though he had two sets of pupils.

That mouth... is empty. She has not eaten. This won't do. How disturbing. A little goddess like herself needs to eat... oh yes... everything is perfect. It will be perfect. Well, it was perfect. Hmm... oh, there it is. The guns. I'll leave them though. Solus will not die then. Maybe. It's a secret for sure. Itzal craned his head the other way, almost causing Ralice to follow suit, as though she was hypnotized. The guest here certainly did not seem concerned with what was going on around him.

And for that matter, none of them save for Solus and Ralice could see him. Funny how light works like that. It goes into the eyes. Disappears. Follow the light vanishings, follow the eyes. You're invisible. Nobody can see you. Well, except Him. But that's alright. Hmm... oh, okay, that should do it. Now then... a little whisper...

Itzal's little grin shrunk, but not too much. It was still there, even as he made lecherous eye-contact with Ralice. "Is your life flashing before your eyes, my sweet little goddess?" he whispered shrilly.

"Whu...what?" Ralice replied, chilled to the bone by the fact that this being just called her a goddess. She's cold. That won't do. This place is awful. But such is the world. A bunch of little awful places all hobbled together. Such a waste of spatial localities... hmm... oh, she's getting up now.

Itzal grinned wider, his unblinking black eyes with dark and white unaligned pupils following her. "You're not the right Ralice, Rina. You are still who you are... long ago. Oh yes, this... facade that you've created. Such an interesting pastime for an aspiring goddess like you, isn't it?"

Ralice shivered. Her whole body was trembling. She could see what this person was. Just a weirdo in a stupid robe and was either a demon or human with face paint. So why was she so scared out of her wits? Because, my little goddess, you will never know a greater fear than of the one who knows your potential. All potential. It is abstract. You little gods make it concrete. Fascinating. But... you will not live beyond what you are capable of. You will live many times. In fact, you've got quite a streak. Hmm... oh, she's not hearing my thoughts. How strategic of me.

"What.. I- .. Solus!!" Ralice cried and pissed herself as she fell back on her butt and did everything she can to get away from Itzal Slyre. Let him hear you. He needs more... pain. Rape. Destruction. He's not going to make it if he doesn't die. Sad... hmm... better move.

Ralice, her eyes streaked with copious amounts of tears, stopped crawling backwards and turned around, only to bump into Itzal's feet again. And again, that rictus grin and double-pupiled eyes greeted her.

"Are you still sore from last night? May I carry you, my saucy little goddess?" Itzal asked Ralice, his black teeth shining in the dim light. Oh, it's my turn. Let's see what happens... so much time has gone by.

Itzal would know, but Ralice would be completely clueless, she didn't even hear the screams. The fighting had ended. 38 bodies littered the room and a few feet behind Ralice, stood Solus, drenched in human and demon blood. The room, oh god, the room. The gore-fest that surrounded the young girl was enough to make a demon gag. Small bits of flesh dripped from the walls and ceiling, with with the very fluid that kept living being alive covering the walls and floor. What started as a mere firefight, turned into a bloodbath. And Solus, wasn't Solus. His green flames were extinguished and nothing but a black thick pus leaked out of his face and traveled down his neck.

Ralice had had never ever seen Solus'... monstrous side before. He had a combat shotgun in his right hand, which opened and let the weapon clatter on to the bloody floor. His voice was twisted and mutational, going from a higher pitch to lower one in a span of half a second each change. "Aaaannnddd... Yyyyyooouuuu Aaaarrrreeee?"

Ralice was somehow still conscious. All she could see was red. Feel red. Smell red. Taste... red. She blinked. In the middle of it all, stood Solus. Or what she thought was Solus. She knew he was a Chimera... but ... her thoughts fell apart. Her face slumped forward. She felt like she was dying. She grabbed her throat...

Itzal Slyre observed Ralice, his dark gray hand rising to cup his chin in thought. She doesn't know. How unfortunate. For her. So many fusions in this world. Won't last them next life. Or death even. Still as a statue, his black eyes, blacker than anything ExMortis had ever seen, slithered up briefly to acknowledge his presence. The white pupils in Slyre's eyes, however, danced about carelessly, looking at different things around the room. Or something like that.

"It's a common cliche humans use, but yes, if I told you, you'd become a little better god, and then, you'll probably die," Slyre retorted, chuckling at an inside joke. ExMortis he calls himself. Pathetic. To be trapped. As such. In this weed I like. One day though... the cleaver. Right down the center. That's a good soul.

"Solus..." Ralice mewed sorrowfully, laying down and clutching the side of her head. Oh, that's so adorable. She likes the weed, too! No... not like, love. Hmm... oh, there we go. ExMortis.

Seeing Solus's head do nothing but tilt in curiosity, yet completely ignoring the poor little goddess... well... This can't be helped. It's not good for either of them. Nutrition.

"You will never be more curious by anything ever again, ExMortis, than a conversation with me... and no, you're not getting one. Not a real one. Not today. Believe what you shall, for what you believe already, well, I'm sure you know the line. He'll tell you," Slyre said again, his voice drawling on in utter boredom.

"Come with me, my little goddess. I'm going to deflower your core," he whispered, crouching down and seizing her by her jacket.

And then... the lights bent and the shadows delved, the elements melted... and Itzal had vanished--along with Rowdy Ralice a.k.a Rina Alice Genno, otherwise known as Peskay's niece, Caeldrin's charge, Solus Grim's ... well, that'd be telling.

I'll be back. None of you will survive without the other. Keep it going. Oh yes... let the memories, experiences, and conflicts flow. All the way down to the Abstract. Thank you, gods.

The Broker

Theme

There was a knock upon his door, well, it wasn't his rather, it belonged to several orphan boys and their sister. The Broker allowed for them to stay in the shack, and made sure they were properly fed and compensated for the act. They would have been poor without him, but that was not the point. They were not the only ones.

However, this was not because the man was generous, it was due to his intelligence and understanding of security. The boys, their sister, and any other manner of beggers who he would allow to live in the shacks that he called an extension of his..home were guards, spies, informants, and considerably useful individuals in relation to hi activities. They whispered in his ears, they told him of the word on the street, and they informed him of his visitors.

Not only that, but they were actors, and damned good ones too. They were intelligent, at least the children were, as the Broker tended to only help the children. It also endeared him to some of his more sympathetic clients, made them feel more at ease in a situation where they were forced to deal with a man who the idea of 'wild card' may very well have been derived from...if he were several thousand years older.

As such, one of his pawns --for these children were three among a large crowd though the rest were elsewhere-- dashed into a corner of the seemingly dilapidated shack and applied specific intervals of pressure to a portion of the ceiling, which in this area arched down towards the ground, though could still not be considered a wall. A portion of the wood formed a crack and the young boy proceeded to pull it from its place gently.

As he worked, his sibling, a younger girl of roughly eight, dashed to the door, pressing her delicate ear to it and listening. The third of the three stood halfway between them, taking cues from the girl, and whispering to the boy in the corner who whispered into a small phone receiver that was imbedded into the sunken ceiling.

The girl responded to Domino's knock with a single rapping on the back of the wood. The wood rattled slightly and bent more than normally under even her small fist—it was rotten. The boy between the two in position moved to a small peephole on one side of the door, whereas the girl moved to the otherside and looked out as well.

They were able to see their visitor's attire, his nervous scuffling and motions, as well as see a few other telltale articles on his person. Finally the peeping tom tiptoed to the door, standing just behind where it would swing open, while the girl hid in a corner, concealed beneath a pile of inconspicuous blankets.

The other boy, who was the eldest of the three, spoke into the receiver, telling the man on the other end the details they had gleaned of the man. After a brief moment he received instructions and as such nodded to the boy behind the door. He opened the door, allowing it to swing open loosely, looking as if it might break. The boy in the corner had already risen and covered the receiver back in its hiding place in the ceiling. “W-who're you,” the boy said, sounding afraid, though he appeared to be acting brave as he stood as tall as he could and clenched his little ten year old fists.

---

Meanwhile, beneath the shack, a gruff man's expression shifted between a variety of emotions, sometimes anger or annoyance, other times happiness, but most often it rested on some manner of amusement.

“Fire is dangerous, Domino, and I reckon I toldya that the last time ya dealt with me, but here ya are anyways,” he said, talking to himself where no one but his sister would hear. Anastaesia, the aforementioned sister, sat in a chair, her legs over one of its armrests and her back leaned against a pillow that was leaned against the other, simply rolled her eyes. “So are all the other elements, even the air we breath can kill us. Doesn't mean we don't keep breathing it,” she retorted to her brother, whose name even she had forgotten.

At this Bree, the DealBroker, the DealBreaker, Broker, smiled, then grimaced, and then shook his head almost sadly. “Sissy, don't give me that, wonderful little piece of-...dribble,” his speech seemed to interrupt itself, as if he had changed his mind three times in the process of saying it (he had) even though he continued to shake his head as if there had been no shifts whatsoever. “Of course we do, well most of us. Some of us are inclined to sit in our little holes and hide, others are inclined to sit in their own little holes and kill themselves, commit what they think are sins, whereas even others don't care even the slightest and decide ta just leave the hole behind for more stupid locations,” the Broker then nodded his head, as if he'd come to some agreement, though the entirety of his run on sentence spoke volumes otherwise...maybe. ”R'gardles, it hardly matters, he's here anyways, and I find that to be quite...interesting? Well, maybe more like annoying. I don't know, it's something that's for sure,” he said, seeming a bit conflicted with himself. Anastaesia closed her eyes, sighing, as she decided to not even bother with him for the moment. “Whatever, enjoy your little encounter, I'll be in dreamland when you need me.”

The Broker smiled, “Mmhmm, 'when' I need you,” he said almost sarcastically, almost. Shaking his head again, but this time with a vaguely bemused expression, the Broker stood from his chair, which sat behind a nicely furnished mahogany desk he'd procured from some former clientele, and walked to what at first appeared to be a small ladder. This ladder was located oddly between two bookshelves, where there was a four foot deep alcove in the wall. However, upon his contact with two spots on the floor of the innermost portion of the alcove, the ladder revealed itself for what it was: an elevator.

So, with no time for Domino to even properly respond to the apparently frightened boy, the Broker would appear directly infront of him, having risen to stand in the out of place, and abnormally tall, fireplace in the center of the room. If you're wondering why it's there, don't ask, you won't get any better answer than 'because I felt like it'.

“Are you nearly done child #22?” His tone was serious, though his expression held a smile that was both amused and playful, though the eyes spoke of some other emotion.

The boy with clenched fists stomped the floor and frowned, glaring over at the Broker before sighing, nodding, motion to his siblings to come out, and dash to the door. He stopped right in front of Domino, looking him over as if he were judging his very soul, before turning back to the Broker and stating “he's a crook,” after which he dashed past Domino—not bothering to specify which man he was referring to.

His two siblings followed only seconds after, though they didn't stop to look or acknowledge Domino in the least. At the boy's response, the Broker seemed annoyed, for about one...two...three...four...five...six...seven awkward seconds before he looked up to Domino, smiled widely and spoke, “Welcome, don't mind Tommy, he means no harm, though you might want to check your pockets. Anyways, what brings ya to my esteemed established Dom? No, dun answer that, come with me, we'll talk down below, it'll be more...comfy.” With that, the Broker turned sideways and gestured to the fireplace, ”Care to warm yourself up?” He quipped with a grin.

24 hours after the killings

Tristan slammed his head on the counter a few times from lack of sleep and the fact that he had just murdered two of his closest friends. Not only did he murder them, but he then proceeded to stage the entire event as an accident. He turned the gas on from the stove and then turned the microwave on. The two ignited creating a seemingly large explosion which would have emergency personnel flock to the scene and investigate after they controlled the flames.

Tristan's things would all be burned, his friends would be burned, and his memories of his past life would all be burned. He was now trying to figure out what to do next, he was a vampire...he did not want this...he hated this...earlier in the day he had a gun inside his mouth, cocked and loaded, but something inside him forced the hand down and the gun to fall to his side. A little after that he found himself where he was now, inside the place where it all began.

Looking for a direction, a sense of purpose, because whatever he was meant to do as a human was no longer an option. He could not kill himself, and he could not bare to live as thing he turned into.

"Well hello cutie, have I seen you before?"

Tristan turned to look where the soft voice was coming from, when he did her face captivated him for a second as the eyes looked endless and her lips so perfect. He quickly found that their was something familiar about her, something he already knew about her, he had met her before...she was her!

He wanted to hit her in the face, take a big bite out of her neck, show her what she made him but he knew they were in public. He needed to approach this gently but before he could she already invited him to a private booth. He accepted...he needed questions answered and maybe even killer her after they were.

Once they reached a private room, there were three other individuals sitting inside, all of them had liquor on the table and cups of red in their hands. As soon as the door shut, Tristan couldn't wait any longer,

"What the fuck did you do to me!?"

The woman kept walking toward the comfortable looking couch and sat down crossing her left leg over her right leg. Her hands folded in front of one another and rested on her lap, shaking some of her hair back away from her eyes she looked at the seat in front of her to signal she wanted Tristan to sit down.

"No! Not until-"

"Tristan...you will sit, I understand you have questions, but first show me some respect, after all I gave you a gift."

She smiled with pride,

"Fuck that! I killed my best friend, I killed his girlfriend, and I'll end up having to kill again because of what you made me! Because of you I have noth-"

"Everything...yes your friends are unfortunate, yes your old life is gone, but you have been gifted with a new life, a life that you can control, you are stronger, faster, and in every way more superior than any human being."

"I didn't ask for this! I never asked to be superior than anybody!"

"Oh...no? Last night...it sounded as though you did want this, you said you were bored...bored of the mundane routine that was your life."

Tristan was drunk, he liked his life...right? He was comfortable, he had what any man at his age could want. Job security, youth, friends, pot, alcohol, a choice in women...then again it was his choice in women that created this huge mess...or was it a mess now? Yes! He had fucking killed his friends!

"Cat got your tongue love? It's ok, meet me here at this address and we will discuss how to...what's the word I want to use, adjust to your current needs...I promise you will learn to embrace this change."

She waved her left hand as a man approached the table with urgency and placed a piece of paper down in front of Tristan and pushed it closer to him. The man lifted his hand up and walked away, the woman hinted for him to open it and then spoke once more.

"My name is Alice Pandra, some will call me Scarlet...I will see you at that address."

The man came back over and signaled Tristan to get up and then the man escorted Tristan out of the room. The door was shut behind Tristan as he exited and all he had was an address. He did not like where this was headed but quite frankly he had no choice. He was going to be found for questioning eventually, he was already a vampire, and he did not have nearly enough money to keep a float for more than a few months. It seemed the address was the only option, what did he have to lose?

Nen sat down under the shade of the tall, wide park tree. Sweat close to breaking and looking tired and displeased, he laid back against it and closed his eyes, breathing in the cooler air.

Damned heat. Damned sun.

The cooler months were much more to Nen's liking, and mostly the middle-sections of those. The in-between times, the cool yet not cold.Though even the stark winter was far better than the sun, caustic and burning. And there was no real escape from that damned overbearing blaze, as invasive and obnoxious as a computer virus. Even the shadows were only cooler, not really reasonably cool. Nen opened his eyes again to watch the market across the street from the small city park move about, wishing the sky was overcast with clouds. Storms were the only thing he really enjoyed about warm weather, aside that people were more social-though little good that usually did him.

A couple was passing by, an almost regular sight, save for the fact that one was a human and the other was an angel with light grey wings.

They sat down on the grass under a big chestnut and talked for a while about this new movie that was coming out in the weekend and the last one that was by far not as good as the trailer had promised. About five minutes in, however, Nen started noticing something was off. The girl seemed to have something on her mind that she finally voiced out another five minutes later.

“Darren, you know that thunderstorm last night? I heard on the news that it hit a house in Thorpe and killed the old couple living inside.”

“Is that so? Didn’t they have a lightning rod?”

“No, apparently not.”

“Did they have an insurance?”

Lisa’s throat clenched. She should have expected the question, it was the most logical one after all, wasn’t it?

“They are dead, Darren. Whether they had insurance or not doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to their progeny.”

Lisa’s eyes dropped to her shoes and she blinked the welling tears away before she spoke again.

“Where were you yesterday evening?”

“At home. I was reading a book. Why?”

“The couple is dead, Darren!” Lisa snapped, her eyes piercing the angel like a naked dagger. “And you could have prevented it!”

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

“Lisa, we’ve been over this before. Please, calm down. Natural disasters all happen for a reason and they’ve been around for as long as the worlds have existed. Forest fires and thunderstorms are vital for the planet’s well-being and without them life wouldn’t be possible. I didn’t kill those people, I simply didn’t prevent them from perishing. How is that a crime?”

Lisa knew that his voice rambled on but she could no longer hear it. She felt tiny and lost as if drifting in the middle of an ocean with nothing but water around on all sides, not even air. Her lungs were stinging but she couldn’t take a breath, her eyes lost in Darren’s, her thoughts lost in memories.

What a beautiful person he’d been, how caring and gentle, how loyal and helpful to everyone… He had been one of those few really good guys, the ones little girls dream about and grown ones made fun of. The guys who would always put others first.

And then those wings sprouted. And sapped out his soul. Oh, how she wished they could simply disappear!

She didn’t realize she had closed eyes but she must have, because hand on her cheek startled her.

“Lisa, please. Those things are meant to happen sometimes. I will be out for the next storm, I promise you. Just, please, calm down.”

There was something different about his touch. Something distant about his eyes. Yet she couldn’t let go.

“Okay. I love you.”

He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth. But he couldn't bring himself to lie either. So he didn’t respond. He never responded. Instead he embraced her and held her close. He hoped his heartbeat on hers could explain better than his words. He hoped it, at least, could deceive her.

After that she just departed without a word and left him leaning against the bark of the chestnut and staring at the few clouds overhead.

Nen hid his quiet glances behind his long bangs, glinting gold-bronze in the light of day, even cast in shadow. Two people had come up to the tree and began talking-and there was an unhealthy sense to them. Nen cursed his empathy as their emotions washed over and into him, smothering him like a wave on the beach. Anxiety; blame. Loss, frustration and longing. The girl, especially, was distressed, though she continued to prattle on with the taller man-wait, those were wings. An angel, then.

The young angel didn't seem to notice the emotion she was hiding-or, rather, avoiding. Eventually, though, she confronted him on it, and brought up something about someone who had died in a recent bout of wild weather.

Nen squirmed uncomfortably. He should leave, let them be alone with it; yet to move may interrupt it, or at least draw their edged attention at him as something to lash out at to relieve their stress. Thus, he remained rather still, failing to not overhear their not-so-quiet affair.

The context was odd, though; she spoke as though the guy was somehow responsible for the deaths, or at least could have stopped it. Yet angels, as mighty as they were, rarely managed to intervene with something as fast and potent as natural lightning. And, by the sound of it, he agreed that he was fully capable of altering the state of a storm and would in the future-which held the ramification of being a very strong angel... or one that held domain over the weather.

Nen tensed further, sweat threatening to wet his skin from something other than just the heat now. Was he within ten feet of a freaking weather angel currently in the midst of a lover's spat?

Thankfully, they embraced-if obviously sadly to him, if not as much to them-rather than exploded. An emotional outburst from the angel-if Nen was right about him being a weather angel-could quite literally cause sparks to fly-and perhaps a lot else. A moment later, though, the girl abruptly left, and the aloneness of the boy with light grey feathers permeated the air, now alone under the tree with him. Nen glanced around, wondering if now was the time to leave. Better that cursed sun than the wave of negative emotion pouring into him now, nevermind the potential for a literal explosion.

It was regrettably just as he thought that that Darren's gaze drifted over to the tree to the left and Nen was spotted.

"O." Was the simple reaction of the angel as his eyes washed over Nen, exploring his features. "Did you witness all that?" His voice was calm and level, almost emotionless. His pupils were dark.

Nen glanced over tensely. The angel was staring right at him, his expression blank-which was rarely a good sign.

"Uh... sort of... I didn't listen as best I was able. I apologize, I just didn't want to draw your attention or interupt you," he said meekly.

"Well, you didn't interrupt." The angel stated the obvious, then sighed and fixed his gaze back on the clouds. "What do you reckon went wrong? What would you have done differently?"

I looked at him akwardly. An angel was asking him for help with his romance problems? If the pressure of being near what might be a weather angel wasn't enough, he had quite literally no experience in the field of romance himself; hardly the best person to give advise on the matter. Albeit, his advise in general seemed to be helpful to people, even when it was only theoretical, intuition and common sense.

"Uh... what exactly happened? I was doing my best to not hear, so I didn't catch all of it. It seemed like she wished you had interferred with the storm. Wouldn't that make you..." Nen lowerd his voice, his tone indicating that his next words were important. "... a weather angel, though?"

"Yes." Darren agreed calmly. He knew that was part of the reason for the conflict. It always was, these days. "And Lisa blamed me for not going off to chase after a storm a few miles away from my home instead of enjoying a quiet Saturday evening. Or maybe because I didn't express my remorse over the death of two humans far beyond the peak of their usefulness to the human world. I'm not sure which one it is. Furthermore, I think it's rather reasonable to worry about their heirs instead of about themselves. I mean, they were most likely already reduced to ashes anyway. Or will be soon, if they haven't, as human rituals require."

Nen blanched a little. He understood the guy's logic, yes-the first part of it, anyways. That coldness in the latter, though, judging them entirely by their 'usefulness'-that was bound to bring up the girl's upset. Actually, she had like showed a lot more patience for it than many would. It was chilling, as though the angel was willing the air to cold and hail to ready in the sky.

"Well... stopping a storm isn't your responsibility. Those are supposed to happen-and some drastic changes comes with drastic weather," Nen said tentatively. His sympathy was plain on his face-his nervousness, too, though. "You're right about caring about those still here as well. They have a lot more to deal with, including cleaning up the aftermath-the insurance, like you said."

"Yet..." Nen paused, hesitant. Please let him hear this well. "What you just said-about the dead people-that was... cold. Outright uncaring. You spoke about them as though they were just useful parts of a machine and then as though they were just unfeeling, inanimate things. I think, more than anything else, that's what she's upset about. I mean, if that's how you feel about those people who died, "Nen paused, looking the angel in the eye. Searching. Searching for that empathy and connection that was part of what defined humans as humans, as having humanity, and wondering if such was even in an angel's capability and nature. "what do you imagine she thinks you feel about everything else? About her?"

At first he saw understanding in those stormy eyes, impassive agreement and acceptance to pure facts. But then there was a flinch, a different glint of some other kind. Darren averted his gaze and just nodded without a word.

"Thank you." He said, getting to his feet. And just like that the seriousness vanished from his features and he grinned, gesturing to the sky with both an arm and a wing. "So what do you think? Should we have a little storm?"

Nen looked at him. "Uh... well, I like cloudy weather much more than sunny. I outright dislike sunny weather, actually. I imagine everyone else thinks a bit differently, though," he said, gesturing to the market. Then a strong breeze came and pushed the branches, showering him in the sickening, blazing sun. He glared up for a moment, then imagined blessed rain and ecstatic lightning dancing through the air, the electricity dancing around and invigorating him such as the chorus did for those who enjoyed church.

"On second thought, make it pour," he grinned.

Bobby is led to a dark bare room and as the guard behind him closes the door and dim lightbulb begins to flicker. Revealing on the wall a series of red lights that were completely off. But not for long, Bobby flipped a switch and a slow humming sound could be heard as electronics unseen in the room began to turn on. And slowly one by one a red light turned on, meaning another Casino owner was online. It took about ten minutes but soon, all but one of the red lights was one. And the once deadly quiet room began to emit low grumbles and annoyed sighs as each of the Owners had their nights interrupted by a man who openly disliked them. Bobby notices the one red light not turned on and cocked his eyebrow

“Where is the fox brat?” Bobby sneered

“Darius had more pressing matters to attend to. Not everyone likes your company. As surprising as that may be to yourself”

“Pressing matters eh? I guess the slaughter of an entire angelic army is not as important as making sure his sluts got enough dough stuffed in their panties”

The room became quiet as the owners silently contemplated what this meant for them and their strategic position in the area. Rumors of the Angelic remnant mounting an invasion into Gospel territory had spread. But it was just speculation and then total silence from any reliable source.

“What happened?” quipped one owner meekly

Bobby sighed as he let his backpack fall to the floor. Speaking as he slowly unzipped the bag.

“ Five weeks ago I had run into the invasion force. They had just penetrated the official borders of Gospel with little to no resistance. I offered my scouting skills to them since I knew the land better than anyone in their army. To my surprise, the invasion force was led by Echetus's former weather Angel. Who had survived Gospel's purge and went into hiding. I guess he wanted his city back.”

He pulls out of the bag a sealed manilla envelope. The small security cameras that were placed on the corners of the room zoomed in on it since the owners wanted a good look at what was inside. Needless to say, the contents let out a gasp of disbelief and horror. Casino owners were not squeamish they killed a variety of people all the time with little concern. But this, was on a whole new level.

“ It was a complete disaster when they laid a siege to the city. The defenses were heavily underestimated. Anti-air and artillery pretty much wrecked the bulk of their forces alone. Then when they were finally battered enough. They sent out a few squads of Gate-killers”

“A few? How many squads are we talking here?”

“About four or five”

“THATS IMPOSSIBLE! Your mean to tell me that 20 or 25 individuals took out an entire army!?”

“Like I said you idiot the artillery and anti-air did most of the work. The Gate-Killers were just clean up duty. Though it still is impressive. They had to mop up about 900 remaining Angels”

“Fucking hell...”

“The Weather Angel was captured and tortured, his wings were torn out before his head was bashed in.

“Hah! What a noble death for such a graceful creature” said a sneering, sarcastic voice.

“Well if you want, you too can enjoy the same treatment. After the siege was broken, the Gospel military has gotten bolder. Their advancing their armies. Primarily on territory held by Koa, but we do have one issue. We have a squad of Gate-Killers deep in our own borders.”

“Shit. How far are they from the city?”

“ I was tracking them all day this morning. They've been purging towns and sparing the young children, sending them off to Echetus. Gotta keep that population rate going up I suppose. Anywho, last town I saw them at was about 20 miles away from the city. Though that’s when they spotted me and I needed to split.

“Absolutely wonderful. And it was my grand opening too. Well damn, I recommend we put the City under a state of emergency. Amp up security and close off the city. No one can enter or leave for the next 48 hours”

“I agree. I'll make sure Bobby's report gets sent to Koa, they need to know about this as soon as possible.”

“ Furthermore, if anyone was planning on going through with any... less that polite activities. I suggest they hold them off until this has been handled. Send word to Darius about this. Bobby, we need you to go back out and locate that group of Gate-Killers and inform us of their location every hour after finding them. Retreat only after they've left our territory or if there is evidence they'll be advancing on Kenan, though I doubt they'll be that stupid.”

“Funny, I don't recall you having the power to order me around.”

“FUCK YOU AND LISTEN TO US! Jesu would have given you the same damn order!”

Bobby growls angrily and spits on the floor as response before slipping the switch and disconnecting them from his presence. He picked up his backpack and left the room, angrily slamming the door behind him. He grimaced as the alarms began to wail throughout the city.

He had work to do.

Collab: Zi and Emmet

Zi crashed onto one of the stools at the bar, her hand scooping up a menu as she did. Her eyes quickly scanned the variety of liquid poison until they reached the number she was currently at - 43. That meant it was slightly over a month since she made the game of trying to teach herself the difference in liquors. At first she had tried their pure forms but found them rather disappointing - one, they didn't taste all that great, and two, they didn't work as quickly. So she started with the cocktails. The bartender was warned to always add the full intended dosage of alcohol to the mix and most often did. It was a dangerous little game and one Zi both enjoyed and hated, just like the music here.

"A Wasp." She said flicking the menu closed and leaning her elbows on the bar. She would have leaned back if the chair permitted.

"Are you sure about this?" The bartender asked. He was a newbie, still in training, taking over the bar and morals of his senior while the latter was still dealing with the unconscious girl from before. "Should you really be drinking during work?"

Zi stared at him and didn't say anything for a long second, long enough to make him shift uncomfortably.

"Are you really doing this?" She asked then. "You're not going to stick around very long with questions like that."

Of course, she was bluffing. Her position was nothing major here, she was just another bottle in the bar, utilized when needed until it runs out and gets replaced. And Zi didn't mind that.
She watched the newby making her drink. He cut down on the alcohol. She felt mildly offended - that was a trick for the guests, not the employees.

Allowing herself to relax Zi loosened the control over the essence surrounding her and allowed it to spread thinner over a wider distance. That's what she did when she wanted a few moments harmony - used the essence not as a concentrated protective bubble but as a mist of sensation. The happenings in her immediate surrounding became much less vibrant, much more human but for that she gained a better feel over a broader perimeter. If anything unusual were to happen in the Rabid Dog right then, Zi would feel it.

And she did. It was luckily nothing bad though. It was Emmet, his essence clearly distinguishable as a familiar fragrance among the crowd. He was just entering and the essence of surface werewolf was splashed over him like greese. He was walking slower than he usually did, he must be tired then. And he wasn't alone. A demon was moving right alongside him, its movements easy and sleek. Was Emmet being threatened? No, there was no malice in the demon. It must be "Juan", she concluded as she inspected his essence. It had been stick to Emmet since the day they met. It reminded her of charcoal.

Taking a sip from her drink (it had a very peculiar taste to it, but not necessarily one she didn't like) Zi turned to face the entrance of the club and climbed on the bar stool- high enough for her wave to raise above the forest of hands. As the two men approached she greeted them with a smile and a nod and slipped off the stool, offering it to Emmet.

"You look like you need it more than me." She remarked, looking him over.

They had arrived shortly at the Rabid Dog. Currently they were passed any small time security, a bouncer or two, in completely silent to head in. The neon lights flickered and buzzed near the entrance, the harsh light drowned the pair within its florescent glow. Emmet had managed to reach the door first, his body still sore from the Weiryn’s encounter, and pressed his hand upon the door with Juan still behind him. The cool surface was soothing to the touch against the heat of his palm as he paused for a moment. A moment ticked by while his mind had dwelled a moment upon what waited behind the door, namely other than Zi. Despite him knowing he was unable to weasel out of this situation, his mind couldn’t help but wonder what Darius’s little ‘surprise’ could be. He at least could brace himself for the unpleasantness that was about to come.

“What can I expect Juan? You know I’m not fond of Darius’s little ‘surprises’.” Emmet spoke in a monotone, though his voice clearly had some tension within it. His eyes never once turned back towards the demon’s direction while he stared on the door before him.
Juan merely smirked, his dark skin dowsed in the bright neon giving Emmet a creepy feeling at the back of his spine. “My, my, impatient aren’t you? Word of advice, be a good boy when dealing with Darius. Or did we forget the last time?”

Emmet’s fingers curled into a fist at the subtle hinting about the first encounter with Darius, the one where his wrist was broke and Olivia was taken. His body was filled with tension over the memory that he barely realized Juan’s touch upon his shoulder, Emmet’s light colored head jerked backwards to see the demon’s fingers peer over his shoulder then firmly pulled him away, his own human strength fell short of Juan’s as the demon made his own way into the club. Unable to walk through the entrance right at moment, Emmet’s shoulders lowered a bit with a soft sigh at the mess he was in. Things had went from bad to worse since his magic had emerged like a dirty snowball which didn’t just stop at a few feet, but instead balled for miles and took everything with it. When did things become such a mess?
That was the question which haunted Emmet every day and in each task. He couldn’t seem to win in the end much to his hatred, his frustration built to an overwhelming degree. One thing was for sure, no matter what was about to come, he wasn’t going to like it. With that little fact in his mind, Emmet’s hand replaced itself back on the door and pushed it out of his way to follow Juan.

His eyes spotted him, his body swayed among the exotic flashing lights and thick haze within the club’s atmosphere. It was always the same whenever Emmet had arrived here. The party in full swing, bodies jumped to the music’s thumping beat like a unified sea and crowded each other the near one got to the main stage. For once, he was thankful for it. The sporadic lights that scanned the crowds and darkness help hid the fact his eye was blacken, mostly. He had a feeling Zi wouldn’t worry but he got a sense she wasn’t going to be happy with it. To top that only visible bruise, he was pretty sure there several more alongside his scratched up suit and banged up body. It was just one of the hazards with Darius’s little jobs. His eyes lit up when he spotted Zi’s pale hand raised above the hands reaching for the roof and started to detach from Juan.

“You look like shit.” He stated in a callous tone, and then added as he pulled around Emmet’s front to block his way. The demon’s hand flew to straight Emmet’s clothing despite the clear unsalvageable rips. “Don’t push it or you’ll be sleeping on the crouch tonight, understand sweetheart?”

Emmet’s eyebrow raised in question yet received no farther details, unsure if it was himself or Zi that was involved in that comment. His jaw tightened in assumption Juan was playing his usual shit and replied. “Just shut up.”

Juan chuckled lightly as Emmet winched, the demon’s touch skimmed a bruise sending a flame of pain within his mind. Hastily Emmet pushed away, his hand slapped away Juan’s, and headed for the bar. His pace clearly wanted to put distance between him and Juan in that moment. His leg seemed to not to want to work right as he limped his way toward the bar. All the time, Emmet could feel Juan in his wake as the demon kept his cheerful demeanor. Careful not to touch anyone, Emmet was relieved when he watched Zi slip off the bar stool and make her way to meet them half way. A rare, genuine smile crossed Emmet’s lips when she drew closer with a glass in hand, an offer after she saw his appearance.
For him, it was odd how her comment suddenly made him aware to the fact he looked like a mess. Ignoring the irritation in his heart when he thought about the comments, hers then Juan’s, and the deep seated wish he had the foresight to change his hand reached to take the glass from her. “Thanks, and yeah I’ll agree. Just another day working for the boss man after, he can’t seem to get his kicks unless I’m left with some bruises.”

Juan’s voice seemed to pipe in, seemed intent on ruining the moment at just the right time. “You two have fun and time to kill. I’ve got a few things to do before I need Emmet again, Zi.” The demon had been about to walk away when he stopped abruptly, his voice added more with his lips still turned up in a crook grin. “One more thing…Emmet, if you get bored of her, you’ll find me by the office. I’m sure I can help you work out the kinks in your sore body and keep us both entertained. Ciao.”

Emmet glared, his hand tightened about the glass as his heated vision watched Juan vanished through the crowd. He couldn’t help the soft mumbles under his breath, only a few words audible for Zi. “….bitch…kill him next….pay…”

It likely might be hard for her to tell what he was saying or at least guess the intentions.

Zi’s stare sent Juan off, an amused grin playing on her lips in contrast to Emmet’s expression.

“And by that he surely meant Twister. You don’t need to get bored of me to join him, we can both pop ‘round in a neat little package instead.”

After he was sure the demon had gone, Emmet nodded and brought the glass to his lips before he took a deep swig. The contents burned in an unexpected way and caught him off guard, his eyes widened while he began to cough briefly. His throat burned like a son of bitch against the Wasp’s ‘sting’ on its way down. His face slightly puckered, Emmet’s hand raised it to his face and looked at the pale yellow and black coloring, recognizing it quickly.

“You could’ve warned me it was a Wasp, you know?” His voice held a small teasing within his tone, and then lowered the glass once more. “I’ve got something to ask you and it has to do with Olivia.”

Zi smiled playfully at him with gleaming eyes. Could it be that she could handle alcohol better than him now? She was about to point out that the two layers of the drink should have been an obvious hint when Emmet continued and his mention of Olivia made the gleam in her eyes disappear. Whether it was because she suddenly became serious or because the mention of the girl was an unpleasant topic, or because she had something else she’d rather discuss, one couldn’t tell.

“I’m all ears.” She nodded with a serious, even slightly weary expression.

Unable to read Zi’s mind, Emmet could only draw his own conclusions when the playful gleam seemed to have vanished. Though he was fairly certain he was right in his assumption as he recalled the plan discussed before she met Olivia, one that forced him to slip into lying to her and risk that years old trust between them. Then again, Darius had made him do far worse that started his secret keeping. Her reaction had given him a deep wish that he had kept his mouth shut for a bit longer. When a bar waitress passed him, his hand shifted the empty glass to the tray and hooked his thumb upon his pants near his holstered gun.

“Olivia has asked me to invite you with us when I pick her up shortly for some ice cream. There’s a local café called Tiger Lilly Parlor, a small place and old fashion compared to most of the other places. I know it’s asking a lot…but she is my sister and with Darius’s work increasing, I’m not sure how much free time I’ll end up with.” Emmet swallowed his slight worry, his words came out smooth and effortlessly yet his nerves were jumping about within his chest. His ears could practically hear his heart thrumming and drown his head in the sound, all this just merely from his wait upon her answer. He could imagine it would get worse if she answered, no matter the result. At that moment, he felt taking on the werewolf again was the better option then this.

At first the woman’s face only conveyed her surprise. Then, slowly, her lips stretched to a smile. However, as it grew it didn’t shape out to be a beautiful and radiant one but rather a sad and bitter one.

“I…” She started hesitantly, both her eyes and body shifting insecurely. “I… Emmet, I really don’t know. I mean…” She ran a hand through her hair, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. “I just killed someone.” Her eyes finally went back to his and revealed a slightly manic grin. “He was a child and he – Anyway. It doesn’t feel fair to your sister. I.. I’m not sure I can pretend to be innocent right now. And I’ve had more than one drink on no sleep.” She sighed, her eyes darting around again. “Besides you… you have it tough yourself. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with your precious one. I can think of a valid excuse for her but… I’m not sure if I should get Olivia deeply involved with myself.”

That’s right. It was not only emotionally challenging to interact with children after everything she’d been through, it was also dangerous. For both of them. For all three of them. It would also mean hearing about Darius – the man she held a deep hatred for because of Emmet who was more noble (or wise) than that.

Zi's eyes lowered with regret over the rejection. A part of her hoped Emmet would laugh her off and call her worries stupid while the other part wanted him to just nod in understanding. And she really didn't know which part she was rooting for.

Emmet stood there, silent after her struggle at rejecting the invite. His eyes turned, unable to look upon her, to spare her from any guilt his depression might betray. It was a deep, bitter feeling to know he should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve forgotten the matter and lied to Olivia that Zi was busy to prevent the questions being shot at him. After all, it wasn’t like lying had become hard now. His mind recounted the various times he had to pretend everything was alright as a way to protect her from the truth, to either bend the truth or completely alter it into something minor. How did he tell her the exact number of lives ended or things done with his very hands that held her tightly? In what manner does one person go about starting the topic in daily conversation? All of that was too much to count and at the day’s end, when it was all over, Emmet couldn’t bring himself to think about how much worth those lives had and face the nightmares in the end.

He wasn’t a saint in this world, not in the way Olivia wanted him to be.

It was a lie to say Zi’s rejection hadn't hurt him but he wouldn’t make her feel guilty for it. Inside he could go back and try this again, though something inside told him it won’t have mattered. She had been wary of his sister from the very beginning after all, why did he think now would’ve been any different. He sighed to clear his head as his throat swallowed the dry lump in his throat to speak. “Personally, I think you’re underestimating yourself. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of or wished we didn’t have to, but I won’t force you to come along. Lying doesn’t come easily to everyone after all. Besides, maybe Karma’s biting me in the ass because I used Olivia’s invite more for my own selfish reasons.”

The last bit he forced a humorous tone to it, the best he could at this point. Some days it sickened him how easily he could put on a mask and make everything seem alright, something second nature to him now. His thumb tightened the loop in his pants, his disappointment hidden to make her feel better, and then continued. His made his tone calm and lighter to add to the façade he started. “Anyway, don’t worry about the excuse. I’ll just tell her you’ve worked a double shift at the club and couldn’t make it. It should keep her from asking too many questions.”

Emmet tried to ignore the fact her discomfort around his sister created a problem and stretched his loyalities. If the two didn’t get along, then it was unlikely this friendship would last for a long time as he pushed his own fear aside on the matter. He didn’t want to dwell on that now or until it happened.

Zi bit her lip with a nod, her eyes shifting on his as if she was searching for something deeply hidden. She could see his discomfort well enough but couldn't be entirely sure why it happened or where it came from. What could have sparked such deep disappointment? Did he really want this so much? Did he really think Zi was worth meeting innocent kids?

On the other hand, could Zi forgive Olivia for being so innocent when her brother was suffering so much for her sake?

Biting on her lips harder Zi shoved the thought away violently, scared that Emmet might somehow be able to see it. The thought was persistent and had been haunting her ever since she met Olivia but now was not the time for such a conversation.

So, for a safer answer...

Your "own selfish reasons"?

Karma for what?

Asking too many questions?

Instead of posing any of those Zi just smiled an insecure smile and put a hand on Emmet's upper arm. She wanted to fix this... She wanted to fix Emmet as much as possible, or at least not damage him any further.

"I think you misunderstood me... I'm honoured by the invitation, really. It means a lot for me to be invited to one of the few meetings you have with your sister. I just presumed that you'd prefer to spend them just the two of you... And... I really have a hard time reminding myself that the world isn't so dark. And that I don't have to blame myself for everything." She concluded with gaze dropping, the final words a surprise to even her. Indeed, how could she not blame herself or think herself responsible? She had been a part of Hazumi, been able to change the world for the better and had done nothing. Or worse, maybe she had doomed it.

What's past is past. Work from there. she reminded herself and let out a sigh.

Emmet’s head jerked into her direction when Zi’s hand touched his upper arm, the jacket’s thicker material seemed to bend easily at her touch causing his eyes to soften a bit when they came to rest upon her direction. The conversation seemed to have brought out her doubt within herself which caused him to wonder how selfish he was being in all this and a slight guilt seemed to wash over because of it, crushed by her next words. His hopes seemed to have risen against his will once more and his brow made a questionable arch while she explained her actual meaning.

When her gaze dropped, his hand gently reached under Zi’s chin and slowly pulled her eyes back up to him. It was a gesture he had begun to do time to time whenever he wanted her attention, so behind it she would know there wasn’t any malice or harmful intentions. He had a little smirk, both pleasure and concern, before he answered. “Not enjoying the moments you get just makes what little light there is worth much less. Right now, I think the world can take care of itself without you letting it weigh you down. There’s always plenty of time to play a heroine later…the world’s not dead yet.”

So says the guy who can’t take his own advice… Emmet inwardly scolded himself with mild amusement.

"So, when and where?" She smiled at Emmet, leaving him no chance to object.

Her next comment caught him off guard needless to say when she asked the location and time. Emmet blinked, his grip had released her jawline, before he answered. “Tigerlily’s Parlor, that same place I took you for lunch the other day and in about three hours. I should be done with my work here, changed into something more casual,” His eyes shifted along his rather ripped up attire, thanks to the werewolf, to make his point clear then continued, “and pick up Olivia on route. That should also give you a chance to get some sleep. I’ll have Juan tell the club owner you’re clocking out early for the rest of the day.”

His tone sounded like he wasn’t going to take any argument from her on the matter.