The sun was just setting, throwing a dim summer light over Fairlake City. Slowly but surely, the streets were clearing as people returned home from work or retreated into bars for the night. Others had the unfortunate luck of working late or were sick of hiding, so they chose to embrace the night life, dismissing the danger. Some were the danger; though, they wouldn't rise until the moon did.

And then there were the protectors: Lillah, who had slept and gamed most of the day way, was just stepping out of a shit hole of a motel with her phone in her hand. "Grabbing dinner. what u want?" she sent to the contact labeled Dad, knowing it'd be a bit for she got an answer. So the young woman turned on her music, light eyes observing the evening. At a glance, she'd be easily mistaken for a boy: straight, athletic build and a haircut that stops at the top of her ears. The lack of make up or jewelry on her dark skin didn't help, either, though she had grown over the insecurity in high school.

Lillah placed an ear bud in her ear, leaving the the other one dangling and spilling rock music into the air. Usually, she'd put them both in and leave the volume low as a means to stay entertained and aware of her surroundings. However, Fairlake seemed particularly dangerous and she had already been surprised by a small group of thugs once and even earned a new scar on her upper arm for her nonchalance. Within the week they've been there, she learned why her father had brought them here and made adjustments in her behavior accordingly.

She rubbed at the scar with an irritated sigh before starting her aimless trek down the sidewalk. The motel was just on the outskirts of the city, which meant quite the walk to the park and even the Drunken Dragon. However, it gave her plenty of distance to patrol and it wasn't too difficult a jog when she was in a hurry.

In one of the better neighbourhoods, for so far these neighbourhoods existed in a city like this, a girl was leaning against the windowsill, her red hair flaming in the light of the setting sun. The scene could have been mistaken as the perfect peaceful setting, perhaps even the stage of a romantic movie, as long as one didn’t pay attention to the sounds.
While the red haired woman herself was silent, paying little attention to anything but Mother Nature’s artwork, another woman was crying and pleading for her life. A particular loud sound drew Ireane’s attention, and she looked at the direction the sound had come from. “Help me!” The woman had started screaming again, a practice she had given up on hours ago. Ireane wondered briefly what new event had caused the girl to start over again, but realised that she didn’t really wanted to know. Drake was creative with his victims. Too creative she thought, as she walked to the fridge and got herself a drink.

She had only half finished her drink when she heard the sounds of footsteps, and a slightly panting man, somewhere in his fifties, came up the stairs. He shrugged at her as he washed some blood off his hands, preparing two glasses of water. Great, he’s giving her water, he won’t kill her any time soon… She frowned as she downed the last of her drink. She hated screaming, it hurt her head, and it made them sound so pitiful. As she took another glass she looked at the man, stopping him as he was about to walk away again. She nodded towards the staircase that led to the cellar. “She looks an awful lot like me.” Her voice was clear and devoid of emotion, and her eyes almost immediately returned to their previous position, looking towards the setting sun.

Drake sighed barely audible, as he leaned against the wall and looked at her. “So what? You’re feeling kinship with her now and want me to let her go?” Sarcasm dripped off both his voice and his stance. He was clearly not in the right mood for a discussion, but she didn’t care. “I know better than to get myself involved with another Shade’s prey… I was just wondering whether I’m going to find myself bound to your torture device one morning if I don’t pay attention, that’s all.”

She could hear him chuckle, as he turned around and grabbed a slice of bread. “Such distrust… I do like you better when you’re Sam.”

“I seem to like you a whole lot better when I’m Sam as well… Pity I can’t be him all the time eh?” She let some more poison drip in her drink as she looked at the man curiously. She knew he would agree, expected nothing less, but a part of her hoped secretly that he would say he didn’t care. He was an aggressive murderous sadistic monster, but he was the closest thing she had to family since she left her birthparents. But she knew the answer, knew even the way his lips would move as he said it, although his back was turned on her. “Yes, a pity indeed.”

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, sucking in breath as she dashed through the streets. She tuned out everything around her, focusing on the target. Her vision narrowed, blurring the features to her left and right until all there was, was him. He wouldn't get away, he couldn't... Not when she was on his tail. He took a sudden turn down an alleyway, and Hannah followed suit. He tried pushing over trash cans into her path though she simply jumped over and continued her chase. She had been doing this far to long to be tripped up by a few turned over trash bins. Little did she know something less conspicuous would trip her up.

Without warning the Shade burst out of the alleyway at full speed and into the streets, passing right by a young girl listening to music through a singular earbud. She perked up curiously, watching the strange man run away as she continued her walk forward. Hannah behind not to far behind the man burst out of the alley as well, though at a less opportune moment. Right as Hannah dashed out of the alley the young girl stepped right in the way. "Ahh!" Hannah yelped in surprise, her feet stumbling in a futile attempt to bring her to a stop. BAM! The two collided in a tackle. Hannah thinking as fast as she could she wrapped her arms defensively around the girl and twisted herself in the air to put herself under the girl. They hit the ground hard and slid to a stop, hopefully lessening the blow for the girl using her own body as a cushion.

On the ground she groaned a little in pain, "Owiee.." she moaned quietly. She looked at the girl in her arms. "Sorry about that.." Her voice trailed from embarrassment. She released the girl from her arms and let her climb off from the top of Hannah. Hannah rolled and pushed herself up to her feet. She looked around, trying to find the guy she was chasing though he was no longer in view. She sighed in defeat, he got away. A fact she hated to admit, even to herself. She looked over to the girl, offering a kind smile.

"Sorry again, I hope you're alright?" She asked sincerely. "My name is Hannah." She introduced simply, though suddenly she winced a little as she felt a sting along her back. Wearing a loose, thin white top didn't do well against skidding across concrete. She reached behind her and touch her lower back were it hurt. She flinched again as she touched it, bringing her fingers back to the front and seeing a tiny bit of blood. She must've gotten a little scraped up from sliding across the ground. Little did she know her favorite shirt was torn at the back. That would be a painful realization.

Aside from that she wore a long green skirt and converse shoes, she obviously wasn't planning on chasing anyone tonight. Before she went on a chase she was just out on her way to meet some friends. Hannah's hair was long and raven black, her soft green eyes alight under the glow of the street lamp.

She knew what she had to do now though. She had to go to the Drunken Dragon to report what happened and get patched up. It was only a scratched but you couldn't be to careful, you didn't want to kick it before having atoned for ones sins. Or else you would be at the start. But before that she had to make up for having tackled the unsuspecting girl. "Is there anything I can do to make up for plowing into you? There is a convenience store just down the street. As long as it doesn't exceed...." She trailed off again, stuffing her hand into a hidden pocket of her skirt and produced a handful of crumpled loose bills. "..Seven dollars.." She blushed deeply, embarrassed that all the cash she had to her name was seven dollars.

Some nights you just wanted a quiet drink, but some nights that wasn't enough.

Tobe sat alone in the bar, a decent enough place, out in the suburbs. No one approached him, no one engaged him, and that suited him just fine. Whenever he felt unaccountably bitter or angry, he would just find some out-of-the-way place, sit in a corner with a beer or two, and say nothing. It never made him feel any better. At all. He didn't know why he kept doing this.

Tonight was no exception, he wasn't feeling any less sad or angry, even with one lingering mystery of his life recently cleared up. And he kept staring at a woman seated at the bar, chatting with the bartender and drinking brightly colored cocktails.

Tobe finally shook his head, knocked back what remained of his beer at one gulp, then got up and walked over to the woman. "Hey," he said, barely audible over the jukebox.

Surprised. the blonde looked up at the young man in his plaid blazer and outdated haircut, confusion in her face.

". . .hey."

"Sorry to bother you. Jenny Hutchins, right?"

"Yeah. Do I know you?"

"Grove High School, Class of 2010."

". . .Dustin?"

"Tobias Dooley."

"Oh," the young woman said, taking another sip of her cocktail, before her eyes finally lit up in recognition. "Oh! Tobe Dooley! I remember, we went to school together!"

"Yes," Tobe said patiently. "We sat next to each other in homeroom for four years. Mr. Szcepanski. We spoke every day for four years."

Jenny thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess we did."

"You remember Homecoming 2008? I asked you to it?"

"I don't remember that, no."

"You don't remember saying no? I stayed up nights trying to figure out how to do it, then when it came down to it I could barely even work up the courage to ask you. And you just up and said no. You completely crushed my hopes, Jenny. And you don't even remember it?" Tobe's voice shook with anger.

The woman seemed taken aback, but her attitude softened. "Tobe, I'm sorry if I was cruel. You must have thought I was a huge bitch. How about I buy you a drink and we catch up a bit?"

"No, I don't want your fucking pity," Tobe snarled. The bartender looked over, concerned, to shrink back at Tobe's hate-filled look. It was a quiet, suburban place, they were unused to this sort of thing.

Jenny stared. "Tobe, are you really this damaged over something that happened back in high school? Jesus, dude, move on."

Tobe lunged forwards, faster than anyone watching would have imagined, grabbing the woman around the neck. No one would have ever expected the short skinny guy to lift the woman bodily into the air and fling her into the shelves of bottles behind the bar, a good six feet away. Jenny shrieked from the floor, blood streaming from her face to mix with the rum and vodka and broken glass on the floor. Cell phones started coming out, 911 was being dialed by shaky hands.

Tobe didn't care. He walked out of the bar unopposed. He had enjoyed that. It made him feel much better than a couple of cheap beers had.

"AAAAHHHH GOD GO AHEAD AND JUST KILL ME ALREADY!!!" the man helplessly screamed. "No, I don't intend on doing that. Not yet at least. You see, I knew you were scamming The Regal for weeks now. I just wanted to wait for the proper time to make my move." Artemis said as he took a flat-head screwdriver to the man's remaining toe-nails. "I haven't even drawn blood yet you pansy! And besides, do you see how yellow those things were? Honestly, I feel like we are doing you a favor here. No worries though, I intend to collect that debt as well."

Artemis's dark brown eyes almost seemed like black pits, devoid of any emotion. When he stared at someone for just a bit they would get uncomfortable. It had always been a useful tool for him. Hell, it's how he was able to open up his casino. He was a card shark. When he was growing up, he used to find his way into back-alley card games. He would win and it would often tick off those who didn't want to pay up. Artemis has had to physically collect his dues no matter where he went. He let out a sigh with that old thought recalling the good ole days.

That flashback in his thoughts sparked a genius idea in him. "The good ole days, indeed." he said rubbing his chin. "Huh!?" the man managed although Artemis knew he would be blacking out soon likely. "Every gambler has a sign, or a weakness. Yours is your greed. You would linger too long at my tables when they were hot. That's when I first started noticing you. You are good, I have to admit. I'm sorry I never caught your name?" Artemis added more sincerity to his tone than he had meant to. "My name? My name is GO TO HELL!" he screamed.

"Ah You are good I have to admit Gotto Ell, running the tables like you did." Artemis said. "But in blackjack, there is a system, professional players pick a play system and stick with it. You Gotto, on the other hand would hit and stay on 16's. You always seemed to know right when the dealer would or wouldn't bust. Your actions were ALWAYS the best you could make in your favor, even if it went against the system. That's when I started knowing something was wrong. Not just that you were hot on the cards but cheating as well. So I have sat back and watched you come in, each Wednesday, and walk out with thousands. Nothing too greedy to get attention, but enough that you lined your pockets well. So how much did you get away with Gotto?"

"My name is not Gotto," the man mumbled under his breath. Artemis was being very patient with this man, but he realized he had given him too much sincerity and that he needed to take back control of this situation. He quickly reached in the man's mouth and grabbed his tongue and with one swift motion sliced it clean off. "I thought you had said something, but silly me, it appeared it had just slipped right off of your tongue." With that, Artemis wiped his hands off on the mans shirt, resheathed his knife and started walking up the stairs. "Tony, James, put our friend Mr. Gotto in the rack and twist him 'til he pops. I am done with the niceties." He shut the door without waiting for a response. "Ah the good ole days," he thought to himself once more.