Parry gave Rikive a hug back, steadying his breathing as best he could after that burst of memory from Charles Gordon. It was quickly apparent to him that any memories he could hit Charles with, Charles packed an equal punch to throw back with the caveat that the vampiric sociopath didn't give a flying shit about. Parry could show him the extinction of a dozen cities and it would be no skin off that man's nose.

Meanwhile, Parry would have to sit there and take it if Charles decided to send any more delightful memories through the sword.

After Rikive left, Parry took a second to gather up his emotions and thoughts, along with his clothes. The absence of Charles' tainted fingers on his sword didn't change the fact that Parry felt his soul was forever dirtied by it. Sooner or later, Charles or his associate would lay hands on the sword again and the feeling would return. Parry would have to live with it. Just like he would have to live with whatever they did with the weapon.

Like that image he had of the sword- his sword- slicing through Billy Rikker's spine like a knife through water.

When he followed Rikive down the hall of the bunker and into the "interrogation room" where their vampire was being held, Parry had his hair in a ponytail, his skin still scrubbed red and smelling of expensive melon soap, and his jeans and Gucci shirt were horribly damp.

"Shower's free," he said to the vampire. "And news flash to the group. Charles Gordon used my personal sword to kill Billy Rikker. Whoever the fuck Charles Gordon is."

Beth rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" she replied, visibly sizing up the hunter. In spite of his help in capturing the vampire, Beth would feel infinitely more comfortable without him present. The man vanquished people like each of those in the bunker on the regular, and beside that, she did not appreciate his attitude. "We're not savages," she said, straightening her back. "We can keep this from the outside eye. You certainly aren't going to do a better job."

She shook her head and turned to the vampire. "Can you believe him?"

Circling the room at a languid pace, she continued her observations of its inhabitants. She held herself in check, and such a thing took strength, when Autumn spoke. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead," would not be met well, and nor would it help their cause. So Beth kept quiet, even when Flint returned; she could trust Tony to say what she was thinking.

And just as their captive seemed ready to cooperate, the girl changed. Her stature altered in the slightest of manners, in a way only someone paying close attention would notice. It was a quarter inch movement of the shoulders, or a tilt of the head just so.

Beth lifted her head a fraction when the sound of strong, determined footfalls carried through the bunker. Reluctantly, she pulled her eyes away from the vampire upon hearing her name. She gave the Asgardian a nod, then slowly followed her into the hall. Even as she walked some few feet from the doorway, she could hear the vampire's words. For a moment, a small smile played on the ghost's ethereal face. The girl positively vibrated with information... and a quiet tenacity Beth respected.

She regarded Rikive, but before she could question anything, Parael sailed by them and into the room. His voice was clear when he spoke, very little trace of the screaming they'd heard earlier, and so the name reached her in full. Charles Gordon.

The name set in motion a visceral recollection of shared memories that left her feeling defiled, in the same way someone marching on her grave might. The hive-mind of memories among the undead opened itself to individuals without prompting and whenever it pleased, and Beth had yet to meet any ghost with the ability to choose what they saw. She picked up the nauseating scene of a massacre of Cheyenne hundreds of years ago, where Charles Gordon fought and killed under another's command, a long time ago in conversation with an old ghost who provided her with the odd lesson on burials and ancient magic. Experiencing it again worsened the feeling.

"He's at least two hundred years old," she announced, standing in the doorway. "And experienced in war. He fought to kill Native Americans, one battle I can verify, the rest, I'm guessing he didn't join in just for the one go at it." She crossed her arms, frowning. "Anyone else like to share?"

"For the record; I haven't threatened you since you woke up." Gray smirked at their suddenly privileged guest.

"Yes, I agree, why don't you just leave?" Beth suggest.

"Yeah I think I will." Gray responded. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at the ghost. For someone with a weight lighter than air she certainly liked to throw it around. A heavy sigh escaped his mask as he left the room. He stayed just long enough to catch what the vampire shared. What was the point? In this zoo Gray felt like the star attraction because he was simply human. At the lone room in the end of the hall he took a seat on a crate. This was one of the store rooms and was just as good as any other unoccupied room to fume in.

Sleeping here would be dangerous. The vampire that had just tried to eat him only hours earlier would now be walking around. Gray leaned back against the wall and yawned. The sun would be up really soon. It would be a good time to take Beth's suggestion and do something while everyone else did what they always did so well. Hide.

Kaori observed the banter between the hunter and the ghostly girl with mild amusement. “For the record; I haven’t threatened you since you woke up,” Gray directed at her from behind the oddly comical mask. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was probably smirking, she could sense that in his voice.

The faintest trace of a smile crept onto her pink lips. This chase would be thrilling. It would be a shame when it came to a close, and the hunter’s life ended. Briefly, she fantasized about the possibility of savoring his life, keeping him in her service. Something about that picture seemed wrong, though. She had never been a fan of the mindless company of thralls. Would his blood taste as sweet if he couldn’t defend himself? No, his life would come to a dramatic, climax of an ending, and it would be all the more satisfying because of its ferocity.

Beth’s words pulled her from her daydream like a bucket of ice water, "Can you believe him?" Something about her opposition to Gray sparked a flame of possessiveness in Kaori – an animal protective of its kill.

She took the words "Shower's free," as the groups concession to her conditions.

Rather than dwell here, and divulge sensitive information to a risky, rag-tag group of desperate supernatural beings, Kaori wanted to sprint from the room in the direction of the shower. She was a lone-wolf by nature. It was natural to prefer her privacy as she recovered. The cleansing touch of water would wash away the red soaked into her skin and matted in her midnight hair. She would be strong and radiant when she emerged, her most comfortable state.

But instead, she resigned to her task when Beth piped up again, "Anyone else like to share?" Kaori looked out into many a pair of eyes that watched her expectantly, as if she were a goose about to lay a golden egg.

She perched on the edge of a small table near the corner of the room, her leather-clad legs crossing one over the other. She didn't want to display it, but she was still feeling rather weak, and the breaking of her bounds had cost more of her energy than she cared to let on.

"If Rikker died at the hands of Charles Gordon, I'm afraid your problems have multiplied," she began. She felt as if she were a teacher in the midst of a group of children, eager for their story.

She continued, "From what I've heard, he used to be pretty notorious for his duels. It's an old fashioned tradition, no one really gets involved except for old vampires with a sense of 'honor' or something, but Gordon's were especially ugly. I've personally never met him - he's probably closer to the three times my age - but from what I've heard, he's ruthless in a way that makes Rikker look like a kitten." She paused, considering for a moment, "Rikker was...sloppy as a leader. Too distracted with profit. Gordon is a military man. Imagine if you took the raw power of a vampire and organized them, made them into soldiers. That's what you'll be dealing with if Charles Gordon is involved. Plus, he knows you're coming."

Casually, she lifted a hand to touch the shaft of her long hair, assessing the mess of blood that had caked some of the locks together. She was desperate for that shower. “I may have some information that could help you even the playing field...there’s a storehouse in the city that de Lacy used to keep heavily guarded. I can’t say for sure what’s inside, but whatever it is must be either extremely valuable or lethal. With the recent power change, I’m guessing no one’s claimed it yet.” She looked up at the group expectantly, “I can take you there, if we’re all clear about my terms?” she pressed, making it clear that she wanted their explicit agreement.

Autumn stayed seated while she tried to pull up what she knew on Charles Gordon. Having a vast knowledge didn't equate to instant recollection. The mind was still much like a computer's hard drive. The more information that is there the longer it takes to search. After a couple minutes she leaned forward. "I have never met him personally either but I am familiar with his work. His tactics leave no room for compassion. He served in the Union during the United State's Civil War as well as a few run ins with Native Americans. He hasn't always stayed on the radar, doing things in the side for the courts. But as I recall he has experience quelling rebellious supernaturals. If he is running things then we have our work cut out for us."

Perhaps now would be a good time to start a brood. It would take a week, five days at best, for the eggs to hatch into an eight legged army. At that point she would probably have to reveal herself to the rest of the group. However it would be better than dying. "I think our vampire friend has a vested interest in helping before things get out of hand. If we want to come out of this alive then there are preparations that I need to make that can increase our chances. Sadly it's nothing that can help us in the immediate future." Standing up she moved off to her own to think a bit.

Murdering Native Americans. A guy who loves to strut his stuff as a soldier. Generally cold, all business, and ready to pounce on a goon who didn't salute promptly? Definitely sounded like the kind of guy who had his grubby palms all over Parry's sword.

"Well, the good news is he can't really use my sword to do anything crazy- like blow up the sun or enslave the human race. It's, like, fingerprint locked to me, so he's just got a really, really, really sharp sword." Parry nodded at Exie. "I think we should go for the spooky warehouse that may-or-may-not be a trap meant to kill us all. Not that my vote counts for anything. Unless our dear leader has any other ideas?"

Parry waited for Rikive to speak- either assenting or changing the plan. He'd follow the Norse demi-goddess to Hel and back with no complaints, if they could get to Hel from this city.

Gordon was, like many vampires, uncomfortable watching magicians work their trade, and that never quite went away, especially as he paused to appreciate the potentials of magic users in the form of Anastasia Petrova, who was as ruthless and cunning as they came. She was creative and solution-oriented. At first glance, a vampire had considerable advantages and retained them in a surprise encounter. Speed, strength, ability to heal.

However, a truly skilled sorceress, like Anastasia Petrova was, had the power to tap into the universe's underlying forces in a way that couldn't be explained, but the engineer in him appreciated that it was a force to be manipulated and that Anastasia sought to understand the rules so as to use them to her advantage. Given preparation, she could overcome the likes of Gordon. Some magicians were fire-slinging thugs, engines of destruction, but it was the subtle ones that exploited connections and figured out how to use magic to get around obstacles that gave Gordon cause for disquiet.

For example, a thing with a connection to another thing, in the magical sense, could have that connection exploited. Which was why the sword sat in the middle of a circle along with other things they'd gleaned from Parael's visions -- the trappings of things childlike that they'd dug up, like a child's book, a diaper, Torah scrolls, his name and the word 'nephilim' written in the original Hebrew around the circle in the blood of a lamb, that being very much a biblical link -- the blood had power. Petrova was not necessarily a scholar of these things, but Gordon grew up with a degree of interest in the classics and was a connoisseur of the Old Testament, so he supplied some of the necessary flourishes to Petrova.

She was working her chant, the old girl in the young body, wrapped in a red, pure linen, that being another connection to the Bible, moved about in a loosely flowing dance that built up a charge through the room, the feeling of humming that penetrated the marble floor and the columns of her chamber. The candles flickered though there was no wind to disrupt them that Gordon could feel as the circle became a battery, and the sword became a focus lens.

As she moved in that agile, flowing way of hers, finely muscled calves and then some displayed in her attire, he reflected that as a mortal man, he might be drawn to the finely couture'd Parisian look that Anastasia favored; the eyes were perhaps a bit too unsettling, though, wise old eyes, hard and predatory, staring out from a haughty nose with a high brow and a mouth that could go stern very quickly. Much as she tried to affect the pose of a carefree, glamorous girl, she'd never be quite that. Too much blood under the fingernails, much like his sire.

Had she not been a wizard and no doubt created precautions against him before he walked in, as he called ahead to announce himself, he might have been tempted to feed upon her then and there; he liked to hunt the dangerous game, after all. But right now, there was more afoot than merely the pleasure of feeding.

With a shudder that he could perceive but not necessarily feel -- certainly not the way Anastasia Petrova did when she cried out her last syllable in the chant and threw herself in the air, as if providing a mighty momentum to something heavy -- the ritual was over, the candles were out and the sorceress was slumped. But she was smiling in that way of hers as she gathered herself up regally and informed Gordon, "It is done."

Parry was stepping out of the way for Kaori to head to the showers when it happened. One minute he had both feet planted firmly on the floor- the next he was suspended about an inch above the ground. He did a quick double take on the wings to see if Cym's were acting up and giving him trouble.

Nope. No wings.

And when he tried to move his arms to grab on to the door, he found he had about an inch of space before they were pulled back into a position at his sides. His legs, likewise, had no room to move.

"Guys..." he whispered, hovering in place as the bonds tightened. "I fink we have a pwobwem."

The sounds of chanting in old Hebrew echoed in Parry's brain as his eyes rolled back in his skull. Somewhere far away, he felt his sword- his own weapon- being acted on by forces beyond his control. Gordon and his other minion. Playing at something. Getting inside his core being, manipulating him through the blade. He knew a few things about human magic, and Gordon didn't have the power to kill him with just the sword by itself. Nor could he use it to trace Parry back to his current location- at best he'd get "somewhere on the East Side" as a result of that spell. Which begged the question- what was Gordon playing at?

The contractions, when they started, wracked through every bone of Parry's body and seized his muscles in one massive charlie horse- the metaphysical bonds that held him suspended heated up, bright red circles forming on his wrists, ankles and one around his neck. The squeezing seized him from every side at once- left, right, up, down, and even from within- in heaving fits.

Before the eyes of everyone present, Parry shrank by a whole foot.

"Guys!"

Another massive charlie horse, bones crunching and grinding as they warped into smaller versions of themselves. Another foot. Parry was left swimming in his jeans, his body less lean and defined- down to the size and height of a pre-teen. His eyes wide as saucers as Parry realized just what she was doing. If your enemy has a nuclear bomb, you don't just try to beat him with another nuke. You take away his nuke. At this size, Parry wouldn't be able to do much more than lift Cym's sword. The wings would be too bulky to manifest on Parry's body as well.

"Gordon can't take my powers, so he's making me so I can't use them!"

Another crack, pop, and muscle seizure made him flinch. His body curled up against its bonds, holding on for dear life as he felt the onset of one more massive muscle cramp approaching.

"You gotta find mah sword!"

The seizure slammed into Parry with all the force of a tidal wave, crashing and warping his body in seconds. Thrown into a whirlpool of magical energy, he finally lost it and actually yelled in pain from the incantation. The yell turned into a cry, which turned into a sob, which turned into a wail. What was left sitting on the floor, arcane bindings still on its wrists, was a child. Roughly two years old, pretty blond hair, and pudgy with baby fat.

"Well dat fuckin' shucked!" Parry said after rubbing his eyes, then gaping open mouthed at his own pudgy fingers. "Guys! Gordon made me fat! We's gotta kill him now!"

Rikive narrowed her eyes as the vampire divulged her...helpful information. A mysterious warehouse that may have something inside that could help them? This coming from someone they took captive but now wanted to fight on their side? Rikive wasn't buying it for a second. It sounded like too much risk without knowing what the reward would be.

Why were they even considering letting the vampire join them? They were just supposed to get information from her then kill her. Now the others were ready to let her into their fold? Rikive still had some doubts about Autumn and Gray, but she was going to draw the line at this. She wasn't going to risk the lives of these people on a hunch from the likes of the vampire.

"All I've heard is 'maybe'." She spoke up after Parael drew the groups attention to her, folding her arms over her chest. Her pale green eyes glowering daggers into the vampires. "I don't want to risk anyone's life on 'maybe' and," She lowered her arms and took a step forward. "I am not going to-"

She cut herself off when a chill ran up her spine and she sensed something fall over the bunker. Her eyes snapped over to Parael and she gasped seeing him suspended in the air as red marks like bindings appeared on his body. She reached out to grab him out of instinct. Her fingers felt like they hit an invisible wall for a moment before she was thrown back by the energy encasing Parael. Her body slammed into one of the concrete walls, the force of the impact cracking the stone underneath her.

Rikive growled in anger as she dropped back onto the floor, perfectly fine after having what felt like a semi truck run into her. Hands clenched at her sides, all she could do was watch with growing anger and horror as Parael was turned into a toddler. Swears and other choice words fell out of her mouth in Old Norse, her tone laced with frustration. She turned and punched the concrete wall behind her and creating a good sized depression in the rock.

She kept her fist there for a moment, taking in a deep breaths to calm herself back down. "Parael," She breathed out, lowering her hand and turning around to look down at toddler Parael. "You aren't fat. You're a baby. Again." She explained, jaw tight as she tried to calm down and think rationally again. It was hard considering not only was her friend in danger as long as Gordon had his sword, but their best weapon against Nemesemt was completely neutralized.

Kaori silently watched as Rikive refused her. She was statuesque in her quiet: cold, breathless and still. She could have argued, but at this point, she was growing weary of their constant bickering. The most reaction she could manage towards Rikive's power trip was minor irritation. At least with vampires, someone gave an order and everyone followed. It didn't speak highly of the group to realize that even the chaos of vampires was more organized than this.

"I am not going to-"

Then the whole dynamic of the room changed. Kaori stiffened as Parael underwent his transition. Not many things made her anxious, but this did. In a physical fight, Kaori was fast, strong and clever, and a reliable asset. Against this sort of dark magic, vampires held very little advantage.

She watched as the man shrank and shrank, into the size of a toddler. He whined, and Rikive attended to him.

In the aftermath, the room felt thick with tension. Kaori clenched her hands against her knee, being careful not to blood-stain the sleeves of her mothers vintage robe. "It seems to me that you could use all the help you can get," Kaori began. Her tone was very matter-of-fact as she stated the obvious, "You brought me here, not the other way around. If you don't want my help, I'd be happy to leave."

After letting the moment hang tense in the air, Tony chimed in, "If Gordon did this to Parael, it's because he wants to flush us out to try and stop him directly. We should see if we can investigate this stash of de Lacy's, it might be a good way to surprise Gordon and allies when we do get around to helping out Parael..."

He glanced back to Parael with a shrug, "Uh, guess this means we need some baby food, doesn't it?"

Among other things; the man couldn't exactly do anything on his own in that state, toddling around or, worse, as an infant. Tony managed to avoid the actual 'joy' of parenthood, so this felt like a bit of a cosmic joke aimed at all of them; the room was full of dysfunctional beings that would make awful parents, and Tony knew it well enough to avoid it. The scarier thought still was that he'd probably be better at it than some of the people in here. The Hunter might be slightly better parental material than he, otherwise, there was a steep dropoff. He tried to imagine Flint changing a diaper and cringed.

Then he quickly backed out of the room, "I'll go do that, you guys can figure out the rest," he volunteered.

"I know I'm a fuckin' toddla, bu' I'm still fat!" Parry yelped, stoping one foot against the bare floor for emphasis. Thankfully, despite his jeans being in a pile around him his boxers were held up by the barest length around his pudgy middle. But only just.

"An' bein' fat is worse than bein' a toddla! I mean, I can still make magic wawds t' help you guys. An' I can still talk an walk. But my BMI is cwazy wight now!"

He spun on one heel toward Tony, murder in his toddler eyes and baby teeth bared in a snarl.

"Mothafucka! I can still eat cheewios!" Parry patted an arm on his Gucci diaper bag where it lay right on the floor. Inside he'd stashed enough items to care for a small army of toddlers and a few adults too- nothing that would particularly help them against Nemsemet, but he was sure to have extra clothes, food and other necessary bits. He reached inside with one arm and pulled out a large onesie, socks, a baby sling and some pull-ups.

"I'm gonna go get dwessed. Lemme know when we goin' an' I'll get some magic wawds on evewyone."

With that, Parry stomped out of the room, dragging his Gucci bag behind him and leaving his old jeans in a pile on the floor. He gave Tony one last murder glance on the way out, but headed for his own room to change. Was he embarrassed at his new physical state? Not really. He was going to kill Gordon when he met the guy, but for the moment he was dead set on making sure he could still help the group instead of being a total burden. Since the ritual left him still able to talk, Parry could offer advice and knowledge to everyone present, and his motor skills were still mostly intact. Given some markers he could inscribe wards of protection on everyone to keep them from suffering similar or different fates.

"Cym's pwobwy waffing at me wight now," Parry grumbled as he got to his room across the hallway. He shucked his old boxers and stuffed them in the Gucci bag, pulled the baby blue onesie over his head, and tried to get the Pull-Ups on- only to find they were too big.

Parry gave a defeated sigh, reached into his Gucci bag for some Huggies, and said "Gonna fuckin' kill Gordon for this..."

Beth stood just inside the door, listening to the bits and pieces they had on Gordon pass around. It wasn't nearly enough. They moved forward too slowly, and their leads were too ambiguous; she felt like slamming her head against the wall. One thing became clear, however: if they wanted to get to Nemsemet, they needed to get to Gordon first. In the very least, going after Rikker got them that much.

She watched the vampire move and caught sight of Parael hovering an inch or so off the floor when she turned her head back. Beth stepped forward, tried to manipulate the kinetic energy around him, to bring him back to earth or just to figure out what what happening, but found it impossible. Whatever lifted him, and whatever began to shrink him, it was far beyond her abilities.

Unprepared for the sounds of agony that came forth next, she stepped back and flickered into intangibility.

"You make a cute kid, at least," she muttered after the initial shock passed. Her face remained pinched by a frown despite her tone. His tantrum might have been adorable if she didn't know better. The onesie was definitely going to make it difficult to take Parry seriously, but it helped.

Once he and Tony left the room, Beth glanced at the rest of them, and followed. "I know some folks we might be able to pull more information from." It was her niche, how she put herself back on the map after death. She might not know much about Charles Gordon, but she had contacts in every corner, dead and alive and some undefined. "You and the girl, and whoever else you might need, find out what our dear Count kept so guarded." She didn't have to tell him to scout the place first, yet she couldn't help feeling the need to give the warning. She tried not to think about why that might be. "If Rikive sees fit, I'll do what I can on the Gordon front. I've a feeling Autumn might be useful there, too."

She looked back towards the others. Separating them increased their vulnerability, but sticking together wherever they went made them one fat target, and the faster they worked, the better. She itched to get outside and do something.

Rikive shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yes, Beth." She answered, opening her eyes again and looking over to the spirit. "Do what you have to and I'll ask Autumn to do the same. If she isn't already doing it." She said to her before turning to the others. "Alright, I guess we don't have much choice." She sighed, putting her hands on her hips.

"To the warehouse we go, but this time we are going to have a plan and we are going to stick with it." In fact, they were going to have to make a few plans, of course not in the presence of their new vampire 'friend'.

Not, as it turned out, a warehouse in the traditional sense.

Rather, it was the Schloss Holzberg, a manor home built in the 19th century by an industrialist that built the place in the German style, with turrets and rounded staircases, and much wrought iron. In 1907, tragedy struck the Holzberg family and ownership, through the will, reverted to a foundation that tried to do good works with the properties it inherited -- there was the name Holzberg on a library in Dorset, there was a symphony hall downtown with the same. Try as the Foundation might, however, the house itself was unattractive to buyers. The house was built of good stone and mortar and resembled more a castle than a city home. The house had occupants, renters, once in a while, but they did not stay very long. There was always a bad reputation attached to the place that clung to it like old ivy. The Foundation tried to turn it into a residential treatment facility, but the high rate of patient abuse and suicides and overall poor performance by the facility caused the city to shut it down; it was a scandal. As a result, the place lay abandoned for a decade and a half.

Lying on the outskirts of the city, it was part of Holzberg Park, which shared less of the reputation for terrible things than the abandoned manor, but the reality was that Holzberg Park was a place where particularly sadistic vampires did their hunting, as it seemed to pick up more than its fair share of people with mental illness, living homeless, particularly after cuts were made in the 1980's to mental health institutions. The park itself had a leering, too-dark aspect to it, as the branches of trees along the bike and jogging paths seemed to hang down menacingly; by day, it was a muse for local artists, for night it was a place for hookers and drug dealers to ply their wares, and for drunk people with pre-existing illnesses to howl at the demons in their head.

That was what the group was walking into; a place of wrought iron fences tipped with spearpoints on top, gargoyles that leered down, stout wooden doors and narrow windows set into towers.

Parry had tried to be patient with Tony and the others as they left the bunker deep underground. He really had. But this... this was beyond absurd.

The onesie, while infantile, was still made by Calvin Klein, so he could in fact be caught dead wearing it. See also the Crock shoes he wore dangling from his feet. And he could suffer through the Huggies, seeing as they were all part of the facade in the first place. The baby sling around Tony's shoulders was uncomfortable, but it worked for transportation purposes.

It was the fact that even as an adult Parry's mind and mouth had a tendency to wander, leaving him babbling on completely without a cause or care in the world during their drive here, that made Tony reach into Parry's bag and (much to Parry's surprise) remove a pacifier before shoving it in Parry's mouth. That had set Parry in a cross mood for two reasons: first, he didn't like being told (much less forced) to shut up, and second, his beloved bag should only ever answer his call. Why had it responded to Tony?

He didn't have long to contemplate that fact since they parked the cars outside the Holzberg manner and stood awaiting the night's trials and tribulations. Parry shivered just looking at the place. He might not be a fully grown angel any more, but the spirits here were far from settled and the place stank of raw magic. Anything could be inside those gates- werewolves, witches, even Russians- and Parry wouldn't know it.

"Fow the wecowd," Parry grumbled after removing the pacifier, fidgeting in his sling as he looked up at Tony, "baby fat makes a bad human shiewd. I won't stop any buwwets coming youw way."

Which gave Parry an idea, if a small one.

"Can you weach in the bag an' get me a mawkew? I can't cut off heads, but I can stiw dwaw wawds on you guys."

Flint turned off the engine to his car and opened the door, standing outside too the view of the twisting manor that they were here to investigate. Flicking his cigarette butt on the floor, he walked over to the boot of his car and removed a violin case from within, he then went to the van to meet with the group.

“What the hell are we doing here again?” Flint asked, going for another cigarette as he clicked his fingers to a flame, placing the violin case beside him. He had been here before, quite a while back now. A few vampire cases here and there, he wasn’t pleased to be back. Too many ‘modern gangsters’ in recent times. Nothing like what Flint used to be, no style, no honour and no respect, and they couldn’t shoot for shit.

“What’s the Plan?” He asked Rikive as he leant on the van, smoking his cigarette leisurely. If it was his decision, he would be going in alone. Using the knife on his belt to quickly and silently take out any guards that stood nearby, when he found what they where looking for he would either pick it up or if it where too heavy to simply take he would use his air manipulative powers to raise it a few inches from the ground and glide out of the manor.

Rikive stared out into the park, looking into every shadow, crevice and nook she could. Searching for hidden enemies that were waiting to ambush them. She was brimming with energy again and ready for another fight. It was amazing the difference resting for a few hours could make. That and eating as much food as she could before they had to leave.

So long as she didn't have to use her magic to bring someone back from the brink of death, she was good to go.

Rikive resisted the urge to sigh when Flint posed his question. They had already gone over this, but Flint had been pretty intoxicated when they were planning."You really should cut back on drinking." She suggested, pulling a marker out of her back pocket to give to Parael.

"We're going to going up to this place quietly." She explained, holding out her hand for Parael to draw the ward on. "We're going to split up and scout the place to see if anyone is home. We meet up again in no less than fifteen minutes, report our findings and then we'll head inside. Of course if there are guards we'll need to coordinate an attack. No one is going off alone though so pick someone to watch your back."

She turned her head to look at the woman that brought them here. "I'll be pairing up with Kaori."

Splitting up didn't sound like the greatest of ideas. But both Beth and herself scoped out the place as best they could. But the place was restless with previous events. Such places were not locations that Autumn wished to visit. Their wild card was out of commision wich was both a good an bad thing. Always the business woman the group thankfully did not saddle her with the toddling Celestial.

It was only natural that she and Gray would team up. Them already having worked together it made sense to go with tried and true. This time however she was not going in unarmed. While not as well equipped as her friend she had brought along some firearms with at least some stopping power. Upon the offer of wards she had to stop and think about it. Most of the time she avoided them on her person as they could disrupt her guise. But given how little they had together she took out the marker and handed it to Perry. "What wards do you have in mind?"

Gray stretched and yawned as he climbed out of the car. Leaving his shotgun on its sling he slipped his mask on again. "I'm all game for the plan but what exactly do you think is in there? It helps to risk your life when you have some clue what your looking for otherwise this ends up being a hunt for a questing beast."

The manor was quite large and he couldn't tell from here if there was an active power source inside or if it was running dark. With its history it could very well have cameras inside and a security room. This would all go faster if they could figure out what's inside and get out. There was something eerie about the place. The gargoyles on the roof were certainly part of it. Their textures seemed too realistic and detailed. Clouds rolled across the sky like swarming phantoms. It was going to get wet.