Rikive walked around the bunker to study it and burn off the energy humming in her veins. Driving the old car had been fun and exhilerating; even with Tony in the passenger seat and shouting at her. She thought she had done well, they arrived to the location in one piece didn't they? It was a mission success in her mind.

She turned her attention back to the group at the mention of clothes and looked down at her leather jacket. There was a small hole in the front where she'd been hit by that bullet and an even bigger one on the back. The dark brown leather was now stained with blood and she didn't know if it could be repaired. Too bad, she really liked the jacket.

Dismissing the thought she leaned back against a wall, frowning as she began to go over the events of the attack. When she had been informed the enemy was from ancient times, some part of her had assumed he wouldn't use modern weapons. Especially since they caused such a scene to develop; either the ancient mummy hadn't known or far more likely didn't care. With that damned curse on the city preventing people that were informed from leaving or communicating with the outside world; Nemsemet could do whatever he pleased. So it stood to reason, he didn't give a rats ass about subtlety.

Rikive shut her eyes and thumped her head against the wall. She was thrilled to discover her swords ability to form a shield, it had even proved effective against bullets. Clearly though, the way she had been taught to fight would not be enough if they were to go up against those weapons again. Maybe her sword could prove useful, but the old weapon wasn't giving up its secrets easily. Perhaps it was punishment for it being taken from Jötunheimr all those centuries ago.

She remained quiet for a few moments, lost in thought and listening to the other's converse. So distracted by her thoughts she nearly jumped out of her skin when Parael started screaming. Fear another attack she pulled her sword from it's sheath as the scabbard transformed into a shield on her arm. It took her a moment to realize they were not under attack and huffed, willing her sheath to return to normal and sliding her sword back into it's home.

She walked over to the counter and tried to dislodge Parael's hands from Tony's shoulders. "Parael I can fix your nose!" She shouted over his yelling and crying. "Calm down, I can heal it if you will release Tony." Speaking of she turned to Tony and asked, "Does this place have guns? I wish to learn to use one."

"AK's are right here," he gestured to the bag he'd stashed them in when they were coming down -- because he didn't need Bobby to see that shit and freak out, "But we'll handle that after..." he shrugged as if to point out that Parael's nose was probably a bigger concern than explaining firearms, particularly safe handling, to Sturm Und Drang.

Well, the Kalashnikov was ideal in one sense. It was designed to be taught quickly to Siberian peasants. He tried to disengage Parael's hands off him so he could go over to one of the footlockers in the place -- he seemed to have more storage here than things stored, and grabbed an outfit that was essentially a copy of the first. Tony knew how to wear a suit and tie and look stylish when he was doing it, but this place wasn't set up to support his not for profit operations, it was set up with the idea of survival in mind. So he had a lot of the sort of gym clothes that lycans wore when expecting trouble, including shoes, because changing would fuck up a pair of nice dress shoes in a heartbeat.

In any case, he pulled on the clothing and laid the AK's and the ammo on the table -- not much, but hey, it was there if they needed it. He waited for the healing of Parael's nose to commence before he put in his two cents.

"Taking the offensive? Shit, man, I don't know. Those goons we encountered were thralls, I could smell the v-blood on them. Nemsemet might be old fashioned, but he's got at least one of the vampire elders on his side, which maybe explains why he wiped out Caradoc's court left and right -- promotion opportunities. That's the only way I can figure on so many thralls showing up well armed and with a plan like that." He drummed his fingers on the table as he took a chair, once the AK's were laid out -- they weren't exactly dirty enough to bother cleaning, yet.

"Guess it depends on what you want to hit. Until we know how to kill Nemsemet, we're as bad off on odds as Augustus was. Of course, that boy was kinda dumb and entitled, but you know what I mean."

Claudia turned to Tony, raising an eyebrow at the nickname. She turned her attention back to the room ahead, gun raised and ready to shoot. No more goons came, which either meant that they were all dead, or they were closing in and waiting for an opportunity to attack. Most likely the latter. After a few minutes there was a string of unintelligible words from the Blonde, Parry. After that Tony left the building, and she followed, still facing the building with her gun at the ready. She listened as he gave someone directions, before turning on her heel and following him to an old-fashioned car. She guessed it was stolen by the state of its window, and the fact that the barbaric woman was at the wheel. Claudia slipped into the backseat and kept an eye outside as the man took them through the route to wherever they were going.

---

They arrived not long after, heading to a garage of sorts. Tony spoke with a security guard before ordering the group to follow him. They progressed through a series of tunnels, in the dark. Not that she minded, she had frequented a few sewers as way of safe passage back in the day. She just hoped that others wouldn't do something such as scream about the filth and insects, especially that odd Parry person. They finally made it to the entrance to the bunker, and Claudia listened half-heartedly as Simba the were-lion briefed them on the state of supplies.

The bunker was fine, at least in better condition than her home. Home, she had left most of her weapons as well as her dog there. She would have to go back eventually, before her place got torched like Parry's. She was brought back from her thoughts once again as the aforementioned man came running back into the living space and practically tackled Tony. Claudia slowly walked over to join the group as Rikive and Tony pried the bawling mans hands off of the lycanthropes shoulders. Eventually they succeeded and weapons were layer on the table. The conversation turned to Nemsemet, and Claudia crossed her arms over her chest as a thought occurred to her. Should she tell these people who she was and who she worked for, or used to work for, or keep it to herself. The former option lead to more danger, but maybe if she contributed it would further their efforts to get rid of Nemsemet.

Parry hysterics were briefly put to rest while Rikive took his face in hand, starting the business of repairing his beautiful, petite nose. The blood on his shirt would need to be cleaned by a professional, but that would hold for a while. In the meantime, his unending vanity tended to by his otherworldly friend, Parry was brought back to the business at hand.

"Nemsemet might think he-slash-she-slash-it has all the city in hand, but the truth is the mummy has nobody to contest its power," Parry gave his nose a twitch, giving Rikive a thank-you wink before turning back to Tony. "If we don't hit out at something of Nemsemet's, he's just going to keep pounding us and forcing us deeper and deeper underground. Either we'll be dead, or we'll be so useless he'll give up chasing us. So if the mummy has a Vampire lord in pocket, we have to keep him from getting any others. It's simple enough. Find out whose Thralls those were. Kick in their door before the vamps can recruit new ones. Fuck up the head vamp and leave him out in the sun. If nothing else, it'll make the other clans less willing to join the mummy or throw everything they have at us if they already signed on. And if the mummy has a challenger for power, people who might resign to join him might sit on the sidelines.

"I totally saw them do something similar on Project Runway once! Except it was fashion judges instead of vampires, and instead of competing massacres it was competing dresses..."

Flint could not possibly be more obvious with his driving preferences. There was really no need to display the gun as a means to ward people off. A quick "no one in the front seat" would have sufficed, with his pleases and thank yous added where appropriate. Rolling her eyes, Beth slid through the door and, becoming tangible once again, took a seat in the back. "Did you forget how to ask a simple question, Flint?" she said, revelling in the opportunity to annoy him. "I know you find it hard to use those magnificent cop skills of yours, but really, have you tried communicating?"

Another explosion ripped through the top floor of the daycare center and the car seats vibrated. Beth leaned across the back seat and stuck her head out the window. She watched as the rest of the supernaturals fled the building, Parry as the last of them. She shifted back into her seat. Everything began to speed up; the stranger followed her into the vehicle, the Asgardian stole a car, Parry dove into the stranger's lap, and Tony issued their driver with directions, then they were off.

Having gone unnoticed for the moment, she allowed herself to become partially intangible to provide the stranger with enough room to accommodate the three of them. Her shoulder, arm and leg vanished into the side of the car, and for the journey she remained silent. Studying the route kept her mind of the events of the day for as long as the journey took them. Parry's voice occasionally broke through, but she welcomed it.

The drive was fast and short, and when they arrived at Tony's whatever-it-was, Beth used the impact of the stop to sift through the door of Flint's car and all but glide the rest of the way to the bunker.

She inspected the room they first entered, putting various limps in the walls, door and through the furniture. Tony's statement proved true: there were no wards here, and certainly nothing to stop her slipping in and out. Though the walls were reinforced and thick, and she had no idea how long it would take or how much it would sting to pass through one. Should they need to lock the door, however, she could be used as a look out. Still, she hoped they would never need to stay in the bunker for long.

From the bathroom she heard Parael rambling on about fighting back as if they stood a chance, and Beth, as much as she loved him, began to tune him out. But a shrill cry from the bathroom made her spin around with her fists up. In a blink Parry flew out of the bathroom and landed himself on Tony, and Beth couldn't quite distinguish the words from his screaming.

"Relax, Parry. Even with a broken nose, you're leagues more beautiful than everyone else," she said, trying to hide her smirk. She switched to tangibility and plopped herself down in the nearest chair while Rikive handled Parael's nose. Beth hadn't the foggiest idea how to even begin searching for Nemsemet's weakness, so she kept quiet. Instead she listened.

Flint was driving now, the back of his car packed with some of the others, Parry was talking and Flint was on the brink of smashing the car into a nearby tree. The only solace was the fuzzy, dazed feeling he was having from the alcohol consumption, the adrenaline was wearing off and Flint began to feel things slow down. That was until he realised he had nearly just missed the entrance Tony was talking about and slammed on the breaks, snapping out of his half dazed state.

He entered the place behind Tony and parked up, following the others as they entered the underground bunker. Flint realised that this was a far better place than his cramped apartment complex and sighed at himself as he had to admit Tony had done something better than him. OF course he would never say it out loud. After taking a quick walk around the place Flint realised he still had equipment back at his own hideout. He decided to slink into the shadows and, without drawing attention, began to leave. As he was taking the long walk back he heard what he could only assume was Parry. Probably seeing his new nose. It reminded him about when his nose was first broken.

It was the twenties, the economy was booming, chicks where shedding clothes, and despite what the laws where saying the booze was still flowing. Flint was with a gang of mobsters known as the ‘Booze Hounds’. The name came from the gang’s main business. Alcohol. The hound part came from how they killed people, it looked more like an animal attack rather than a mass shooting.

Flint was just learning his magic, and it was little more than lighting fires and keeping beers cold. Flint’s most destructive power was his use of a Thompson sub machinegun. He could rip a car in half so the legends say. It was that kind of power the gang needed on a job, it should have been simple. Walk in, scare a few people into paying their dues, then walk out feeling satisfied. The job was far from what was planned however, who would have known the place was set up like a fortress? Who could have known they were waiting for them? Ten guys vs Flints five wasn’t very fair, and the whole place was lit up as soon as they walked in. Flint was left alive, the other members of the gang a bloody pulp against the wall. He will never forget the words the man said, the one who was stomping on his head and busting his nose.

“No matter how strong you get, there is always a bigger dog”.

Flint snapped out of his daydreaming as he got to his car, thankful it hadn’t been towed to ‘safety’ yet. He hopped in and briskly began to drive to the apartment complex, taking a few casual swigs of his flask. When he got there, it didn’t take him long to grab one of the large wooden trunks, and throw it into the boot of the car, making sure he had the key for the padlock on it. Smudge had also joined him and curled up in the passenger seat of the car. On the way back to base, he contemplated just how long it would take before everyone he knew died, he had little hope for the others and as the thought of leaving town crossed his mind, he instead lit up another cigarette and continued driving.

He returned back to the bunker, saying the secret code to Tony's guy. It was such a stupid code and he felt stupid saying it. He was dragging the trunk as he slowly made his way into the main compartment of the complex. Smudge was quick to follow, she was a timid cat but was happy as long as she stuck by Flints legs, making dragging the suitcase even harder, especially as her black fur made it hard for Flint to see in the dark.

Flint returned to the group just as they where mentioning vampires, he panted heavily as he lit up another cigarette, the last in his packet. He began to talk through mouthfuls of air.

"I know a few of the hang outs" He inhaled a puff of smoke. "Of some of the local vampire gangs, id suggest the Rusty Steak knife. Some sort of speak ea... night club" Flint awkwardly caught himself as he took another drag from his cigarette, his breathing returning to normal soon after. Smudge still clung around his feet, afraid to move more than a foot away as the strange smells of the place attacked her nose.

Rikive made a face, her nose wrinkling her freckled skin, when the lawman returned and put in his own two coins. "The Norns hate me." She muttered, reaching behind her to tug out the ribbon that contained her braided hair. Or it had attempted too, with all the excitement the braid had started to come undone. A nightclub, the vampires had to operate out of those...places.

Running her fingers through her chestnut hair to act as a brush she couldn't help but think of the times Parael took her to nightclubs. They...had not gone very well. To top it off they wished to go to a nightclub where vampires liked to frequent. She knew from Parael that celestial blood was highly sought after by their kind. It did not frighten her, but if she punched a vampire through a wall for getting too close to her...Then it would likely give them away if they were going for a plan with subtlety.

"I am not needed for this plan." She declared, jumping up onto the kitchen counter to sit on, taking off Winterthorn to lay across her lap. "I don't do well in nightclubs." She kicked her legs back and forth, running her finger over her swords black sheath. "If we are attacking it head on with weapons drawn then I will gladly lend my aid. Outside of that, I will be a liability rather than an asset."

Beth let out a snort at Flint's wording, but she left the teasing for later. She considered his words while brushing a hand through her tangled hair. Other "gifted" beings were the most difficult bodies to take possession of, but she had never tried a vampire before, nor had she spent very much time in their preferred businesses. No doubt an elder would be impossible to possess, so that was ruled out. Someone else within the elder's circle, though, someone less powerful, she could use them. But what for? Beth huffed; at this rate, she would be good for nothing but the attack.

It seemed the same was true for Rikive. For different reasons, of course. Leaning back in the chair, Beth began to rock on its back legs absent-mindedly. The movement created a soft creak every so often. She watched the other people in the room, propping her elbow on the back of the chair and rubbing her temples. Her mind ran a number of simulations, plotting the course of future events in as many different variations as she could think of, and each ended the same way.

It was almost amusing. Without knowing what Nemsemet's equivalent of her cursed pendant was, they were doomed to failure.

She refocussed on the task at hand and a thought occurred: any elder vampire would have an army of lessers and thralls to guard them, especially in their own territory. To take him out, they'd need an army of equivalent size or, since they were lacking in one of those, an assassin.

Beth dropped back onto all four legs with a thud and sat forward. "If we're going to do this and take on Nemsemet, which by the way is insane, then we're going to have to send someone in to confirm this big-shot vamp's involvement with the thralls before we go avenging Parry's wardrobe." Beth hopped to her feet and turned on her heel in a slow circle, eyeing each of the people in the room. "Someone who would conceivably enter such an establishment and can fend for themselves. Alternatively, with some form of back up. You're familiar with that term, right, Flint? Oh, no, you like to work alone." She spun to face Tony and Parael. "If the elder isn't behind those thralls, fucking him up's not going to send the message you're trying to send. Get information first, then act on what we learn."

Finally, she stepped aside to see everyone and folded her arms across her chest. "Volunteers?"

"Casper's right, but we don't have to go in a club full of vampires and thralls. We can capture a straggler."

He'd spent time getting himself showered and scrubbed down from his little encounter with the thralls, but he seemed clean now.

"Of course, that makes it harder to pick one that's in the know, we'll be taking what we can get if we do it that way. But it's easier to grab one and stash them in a van," that they'd have to steal, "without having to take on every vamp in the place."

He didn't necessarily want to be the one sent in there. It was true that vampires and Lycans didn't necessarily get along too well, though it wasn't like those really terrible movies with whatshername the British girl or that Mormon housewife's mawkish fantasies made into lucrative novels. It was more of a thing where dangerous predators gave each other a wide berth. Vampires despised that Lycans got to enjoy the sunlight and the benefits of being alive, while Lycans were annoyed that vampires had their shit together and basically had skills that lent themselves to making a lot of money and living a plush, immortal life of leisure if they saw fit.

So it didn't take much to start a fight, but it wasn't some eternal war. Also, when Vampires decided they wanted to give a shifter trouble, they didn't go and fight them face to face, because the shifter had the edge there. They sent, for example, well-armed thralls or they used the system, which they had the means to infiltrate via the effect of their blood on humans, to fuck with them. For example, Lycanthrope family living in a building? Condemn the building, send in child services, and a whole other mountain of red tape. They tittered over it and had another champagne flute of A+.

"I'm game to help, I just can't see myself being the guy you want to walk in there," Tony concluded.

The groups quick movement made below made getting information back to Arachne a little slower. Of course once they did get to their destination the news began to make its way up to her. Sadly even if a spider managed to get into the shelter it would not be able to relay what was going on inside. That said the existence of said shelter was quite a surprise. Whoever had found it to begin with was lucky. It was certainly something that she had never seen magic tested against.

Coming out of her room Autumn was dressed in some more casual clothing. Doning the business attire would be a sure fire way to ruin it in the sewers below. Knocking on Gray's door she informed him of their destination. Most likely this would be a first for him as well. The two of them probably wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight if things turned bad, but Gray had some contingencies for that. Given what the group just went through they were likely to be skittish. Arachne would have to bank on her reputation.

Despite living mostly above ground nowadays, she still felt more at home in the depths. The sewers and old subway systems were the modern day caves. The many different paths, turns, and exits were crafted for an ambush predator like herself. Fortunately for everyone that was not her intention right now. Ignoring the graffiti on the walls she just followed the directions of her children. It was no wonder so few know of this location. It was much further than most would care to adventure and probably at one point a heavily guarded secret.

Keeping to her human form and ability made the venture much slower. But she didn't want to highlight what she had hidden from Gray so long anymore that night than she had to. The sun would be rising soon, not that one could this far underground. It meant that most of the creatures that roamed during the night would begin to congregate out of sight. It often made them easier to follow to their hiding places on the occasions they were not leveling a building. She awaited word as the two began to approach the shelter. Depending on how well kept it was they may have a way to tell they were there. But it was also possible that the door sealed them off from everything.

"The Rusty Steak Knife club? The place run by the Rikkers Clan?"

Billy Rikkers was de Lacy's number two Vampire enforcer in the city right before Nemsemet woke up. He used to be number one, but de Lacy caught hint of a coup brewing in the clan and had used a bottle of Parry's blood, walked halfway across the city with a dozen lycans, and bust in on the noontime negotiations of who would run what when Billy unseated the asshole-in-chief. Billy Rikkers had too many friends to allow de Lacy to knock him off directly. But his biological son and newly made vampire Sebastian Rikkers, had 0 friends of note outside the clan. So Billy had to watch while de Lacy dragged his boy kicking and screaming out the back door, burning up like beef brisket in the sun while de Lacy just stood there, fangs bared in a smile at his treacherous rival.

Parry hadn't been pleased with how his blood had facilitated the act, but he wasn't in a position to tell de Lacy what to do. It was part blackmail, part safety arrangement for himself. de Lacy got to keep going out during the day to smoke his rivals as they plotted against him, and Parry didn't have to put up with a literal and figurative witch-hunt of paranormals after his blood to make Elixers of Life, werewolf hallucinogens, or just enjoy a walk in the park during the daytime. Parael might have been a Celestial, but retiring to Earth made him just as mortal as Flint. One bullet to the head and he was out for the count.

So Parry surprised himself when he stood up in the middle of the group, dusted the soot off of his shirt and said "I suppose I'll jump on the grenade if none of you will. And unlike the rest of you, I have something that Billy Rikkers wants." His hand fished inside the Prada diaper bag until, within its infinite confines, he found the silver flasks that Tony had grabbed from the basement. "And I can play 'Let's Make a Deal' when my life is on the line as good as any wizard."

Rikive looked up at Parael and her eyes widened a bit when he brought out the flask containing his blood. He was going to give the vampire his blood? Granted, it sounded like an emergency plan but there was still a lot that could go wrong. "Are you sure?" She asked with a frown, reminding herself to keep the questioning vague. Parael wished to have his Celestial nature remain secret and she would respect his wishes.

"Won't offering that, make him come after you for more?" There would be dangerous consequences to giving the vampire the ability to walk out into the sunlight. What if in handing over his blood the vampire would realize it belonged to him? What if he grew greedy and decided to capture Parael so he would have a direct source for him and his vampire allies.

She was about to talk further when she heard the scuff of feet on concrete. Outside of the bunker. Her head snapped to the door and she pulled Winterthorn from it's sheath. "There are two people outside." She said lowly as her newfound shield formed over her arm. "Is there anyone else you know that would know about this place?" She asked Tony, sliding down off the kitchen counter.

Flint listened to the others, he would rather not have to go into a nightclub, too much loud electro music that didn’t have any jazziness to it. Of course another reason he couldn’t go in was because everyone knew who he was, and he didn’t blend in to the modern social norms. Flint bent down and began to unlock his trunk, making sure no-one could see within from the angle he was opening. Smudge felt braver, and so began to walk around the room, smelling and rubbing her scent on anything and everything.

As he rummaged he heard Beth address him, “…. Alternatively, with some form of back up. You're familiar with that term, right, Flint? Oh, no, you like to work alone” The others couldn’t see Flints un-amused face from behind the trunks lid, but if they had they would see a scowl that stretched across his face. The group continued chatting and Flint finally rose when Parry volunteered to enter the establishment.

The Thompson submachine gun in his hand, commonly nicknamed the ‘tommy gun’, looked old and well used, the receiver’s blueing had almost completely come off, the fore end seemed like it was barely held together, and tape covered half of an engraving on the stock. The gun had a fifty round drum magazine and despite how much weight this puts on the front of the gun, Flint held it as if it was an extension of his own body.

“I will be back up” Flint said finally, glaring at Beth for her previous comment. Sure he preferred to work alone, but it was not like he hadn’t worked in groups. Your squad was your family in the world wars and this held strong with Flint. He had worked flawlessly with his group and despite the many losses, his team could withstand attack after attack.

"There are two people outside." Rikive said slowly, Flints hand went to the receiver on his sub machinegun, he racked the well-oiled bolt and looked to the others “Maybe we should go say hi?” Flint smirked, resting the gun on his shoulder as he span on his heel. “I’ll show them why they used to call this the trench sweeper… unless anyone thinks it is just a random passer-by who just happens to be here accidentally” The sarcasm flowed through him like some sort of magical energy, it might even be the only thing that kept him alive, maybe it was even the source of all his power.

Upon hearing their destination Gray already had his suspicions that something could go wrong so he put on his full body armor accordingly. It was made to be durable, light and still give him great freedom of movement to withstand some of the most vicious blows, lacerations and bites so he could do his job. It certainly didn't make him invulnerable, it simply lessened the impact a mistake or surprise might make, like any good armor does. The only piece he left off was the helmet. The gaudy thing was painted with a white skull that had three red scratches over each eye and covered his face. He liked it because it could prove terrifying to a squeamish foe and doubled as a gas mask. The whole set was a default blue with a small family crest on the right breast. All loosely hidden under his grey jacket. For this trip, he brought his AA12 shotgun, leaving the rest in cases in the car.

The ubiquitous spider queen led the way. It was still rather impressive she was able to navigate the underground so easily. Unlike Gray, Autumn was at ease in the dark. Gray kept a flashlight on his rigging out of tactical necessity yet they had been lucky enough to travel in dim illumination. As they grew close to the shelter door he kept two hands on his shotgun, ready for the worst.

Casper?

Beth didn't know whether to be amused or insulted. She went with amused in the end, since dear Tony could have generated nicknames a whole lot worse, and she rather liked the old were-kitty.

Just as she expected, someone came forth with enough information to get them going. She'd heard of the Rikkers Clan a few times, whispers in de Lacy's court but never anything worth remembering. For the most part, she steered well clear of vampires unless she needed something. Beth grinned and opened her mouth to speak again, to prompt the newly formed group into a plan of action, before the Asgardian pointed out the presence of someone beyond the door.

"Okay, hold your horses big guy," she nodded to Flint's submachine gun. Another comment about his ineptitudes as a detective flirted on her tongue, but she restrained herself. She walked to the door and turned her body see-through again, then moved through it. Now, regular old steel doors were a little tough on her spirit, but something reinforced? She felt sick. When she made it through to the other side, she wanted to vomit. Instead, and since vomiting was an impossibility, she pinned her gaze on their guests.

Their guests, who appeared to be one impeccably dressed woman and her far less well kept bodyguard, by the looks of him. Beth smirked at his gear; the gang inside would not appreciate someone riding in here pointing guns at them. Once a day was enough. The lack of spiritual aura coming off him, she supposed he was a mortal, so she addressed the woman.

"Apologies, but we're not buying whatever it is you're selling. Is there anything else we can help you with?"

Flint's tendency to reach for his SMG at the slightest provocation would have been an overreaction if they hadn't just been shot to pieces by vampire thralls on a public street. In this case, it was probably one of the smarter things he could've done. "Flint, were you a Pinkerton in your last life?" Parry asked, sliding toward the door as Beth walked through it.

He'd met Pinkertons once or twice. Nice guys, if a little quick on the draw. And even quicker on the massacre. Then again, a for-profit police force could have that luxury here on Earth.

Parry stood on his tip-toes to see through the tiny peep-hole in the solid steel bunker door, getting a warped view of Beth's ghastly form taking shape on the other side of the underground shelter. Beth, a human, and...

And...

Without consulting any of the group, and with no words uttered, Parry slid the locks to the door open and pulled the heavy slab of metal until he could peek his head through the crack, golden hair, soot stained face and dried blood trails beneath his nostrils greeting her and the human accompanying her.

"Autumn?" He said, squinting at the woman with her very human bodyguard. "Wait, how do I know you're the real Autumn? We're dealing with a supernatural mega-mummy who has the whole city in his pocket. Quick: August 19th of last year, I was arrested by human authorities for a drunk and disorderly outside the Radiant Rainbow Bar on New York's east side. What was I wearing when you bailed me out, and why was I arrested?"

When Parael cracked the door, Tony could smell the silver, a lot of it, "Watch that shit, this muthafucka's loading a lot of silver." And he didn't smell v-juiced or like a thrall, "Whoever that is, they brought a fuckin' hunter." He reached for an AK, mostly because it was a better option than charging a hunter. Flint had the right idea -- that guy was loaded for goddamn werebear. Well, it was sort of like wearing a headband that said, "Allah Jihad!" and wearing a slightly bulging vest and walking into kosher pizzeria in Solomon Village, the Jewish part of town, or carrying a sign that says, "God Hates Baby Killers" and waving a shotgun in the parking lot of an abortion clinic.

Silver and werecreatures.

To be sure, Tony understood that mortals might have good and legitimate reasons to kill werecreatures, especially when they started to go on a rampage in built up areas, and, in a sense, he understood why when Nemsemet had a lot of weres on his side of the divide, this guy might come packing sterling silver double ought.

But you couldn't stop that visceral emotion of fuck that guy.

Tony tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "Real careful, here Whitey. This guy's got the drop on us and he's packing a lot of shit."

Sense of smell again, Tony had a good nose and he was wiser than a lot of weres; on the ball about things regarding modern weapons. But on the other hand, he was worried; some dude that thought he was hunting the fuckin' monsters running amock like the Terminator -- contrary to Parael's assessment, Tony was actually up on things like movies, music, cars and the current men's fashion (though even as a brotha, he wasn't nearly as flamboyant as Parael, but purple shirts were doable in this social circle, as were three piece suits and double vents) and this guy could be one of the calmer types or he could be one of the crazy whacko "Kill the witches!" good ole boys. The nose didn't tell you everything, after all. He could smell metal, oil, powder and that sort of thing. He could smell the man's sweat. He might be able to take a stab at his diet. But that left a lot of holes in the threat assessment.

But Tony hadn't clicked off the safety on the Kalashnikov, or chambered a round-- yet. Parael and Casper were taking the lead, and Tony knew to shut the fuck up and let them talk it out. Parael was off his rocker, but he was generally juiced in with folks.

To think this merry ragtag band of supernatural entities was planning on hitting a fucking vampire stronghold made Karram's headache worsen. He grasped the bridge of his nose with two fingers and tried to stay focused, thoughts and plans whirring through his mind as fast as the dialogue in the room. He eventually looked up again when there was mention of Parry handling the situation himself... and then Flint offering his services as backup. Karram noted the strange flask Parry had pulled from his diaper bag of holding and wondered what it was he had that these bloodsuckers wanted. Rikive seemed to know what was contained within the small flask, and that whatever it was could make their lives even more hellish. Karram peered into her feelings a bit; she was anxious thinking about the Rikker fellow having the flask...

I wonder what's in there? Karram could hardly finish his thought before he realized Rikive's emotions shifted suddenly to fierce and instinctive. "There are two people outside. Is there anyone else you know that would know about this place?" Oh great more guests... Karram thought. With weapons drawn and talking silenced, Parry and Beth took point at the door. Antonio looked extra nervous; it made sense considering he caught the whiff of a whole lot of silver.

Karram stood quietly and drew Oakbane from its sheath and crept closer to the group, ready to protect himself and anyone else around him. His brow raised slightly as Parry cracked the door and peered through. He recognized whoever was behind that door, but for once kept his suspicions roused. The group was left listening in silence as he posed an awkward but befitting question to this suspicious Autumn character. Please get this right... I'm not in the mood to fight right now, he thought with a slight grimace forming on his face.

Flint thought about Tony’s words. He wasn't fond of hunters, especially mortal ‘normal’ hunters. They acted far too cocky, far too invincible. Flint had dealt with them in the past, either with the court hiring them or a private hire by a ‘concerned citizen’. One thing he hated was they packed the latest gadgets, thermal imaging, night vision, fully automatic clip fed assault rifles with sixteen attachments, custom ammunition, Kevlar vests. Flint had been doing it the old fashioned way the past sixty five years and he was good at it.

Another thing he didn’t like was the use of silver, and apparently this man had a decent amount of it. Flint had many reasons for not having silver ammunition, for one, despite popular opinion, Flints job was mainly as an investigator, not killing people, and so most of the time he wasn’t even firing his weapon, never mind shooting anyone. Another reason was because most things that were damaged by silver, could smell silver. Why make enemies before you even meet the thing you are hunting? The main reason for not using silver ammunition was the most obvious. It was bloody expensive. Sure private hire hunters could spend the thousands they gained on precious metals, but Flint could barely afford his alcohol addiction.

Flint was behind Parry as he foolishly opened the door, what he met on the other side was just as Tony had warned him about. The man stood outside, a few inches short of Flint, his body armour wasn’t obvious, but Flint knew he would have it. The firearm in his hand Flint had not seen before, it looked like it was made of plastic and it reminded him of a toy a child might play with, the bore of the barrel signified a shotgun of some sort, or large calibre ammunition. No-one appreciated a good wooden stock now-a-days. Flint then looked to the woman with him, she looked familiar, but Flint couldn’t remember from where. Parry seemed to know her on a legal level, and was probably how they had crossed paths before. She definitely didn’t seem to be packing any heat, maybe one of those girly guns. (This wasn’t much of an insult, as Flint considered anything that didn’t nearly snap your wrist when firing a ‘girly gun’.) Flint decided the best course of action would be to glare at the two and be ready to saw their heads off if they showed any sign of aggression, he kept the Thompson at his hip, the barrel facing the floor.

It didn't take long for those inside to notice their arrival. It made Autumn curious as to which one caught them first. The door hadn't even opened before a voice echoed out. So they had a spirit among them it seemed. The snide comment about not buying anything was only moderately amusing to her, children. "Judging by the display up top I would say that you could very much use my services. I do not tolerate such carelessness. Had I gotten to you sooner you would not have been caught off guard by simple thralls." Her usual pleasantries died away when it came to business. But before anything else could be said Parael had opened the door and stuck his head out.

The Celestial's face had seen better days. Given their previous encounter it no doubt caused him more pain to have it damaged than any actual physical displeasure. He was an eccentric and vain beyond any other she had the misfortune to encounter with exception of actual gods. Behind which were the rest of the misfits. Unsurprisingly everyone inside was antsy. Was bringing along Gray a mistake? Perhaps. But it would look rather out of place for her to just show up alone given the circumstances New Camden was in. Fortunately she didn't really worry about her associate being too brash just yet. This was her territory and that meant she was in charge.

A question was raised about if she was who she appeared to be. The burden of proof rested between her and Parael, referencing the time she had been asked to haul him out of jail. To say it wasn't something she remembered would be a lie. It was one of the few case works that she dealt with herself while "working her way up the ladder." A formality simply to keep up appearances. Normally she would have blow off such a question but given that everyone was poised to attack she sighed and rolled her eyed toward the ceiling. "You had a matching ruby red velvet designer outfit. The jacket barely fit you and looked like it was trying to jump off your body. Small yellow flowers were embroidered all around it and a large red flower of the same material was sewn on your left shoulder. The cuffs were Faux Fur, same ruby color, which made you look even more ridiculous in you cell. I believe you said it was a Renato Balestra original and the only of its kind. As I recall the police report read 'Disturbing the Peace.' The owner though said that you were drawing clientele away and had a meltdown when a red wine had been spilled on you." Pointing toward her foot she made one last note. "You made it expressly clear to point out the dime sized stain on the hem of your pants to me many, many times."

Despite the mounting hostilities she kept a cool demeanor and made very little effort to hide her confidence. Either she worked extremely well under pressure or felt no need to be intimidated by them. Leaning to one side she smiled to one in the background. "Oh and Karram. You're lucky that you don't still work for me. Fraternizing with former clients is strictly against 'company' policy." Of course only the one that the comment was directed toward would understand. As part of the agreement with the courts the employees were to stay well away from those they represented afterward. Terrible, mysterious things would happen to those that didn't follow that rule.