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The two detectives made their way cautiously into the Golden Dragon; a hard-faced man with dark hair accompanied by a leggy blonde with striking blue eyes. The dark haired one cleared his throat, and Nyxvira looked up from her special fried rice, her big golden eyes flickering over the pair. 

There was something [i]other[/i] about the blonde, a whispering murmur in the air that would’ve gone unnoticed by most mortal races, but which Nyxvira could see shifting and slinking about the place like a gas leak. The SSPD records hadn’t mentioned this Johanssen as possessing magical abilities, but they were about as credible and susceptible to change as Wikipedia, so that wasn’t surprising to Nyx. 

The Faerie ran her grease-smeared hands down the sides of her slick purple dress, wiping leftover sauce on her chunky thighs as the corner of her plump lips twitched ever-so-slightly. 

“Please, take a seat.” Lady Sharrahonzu said plainly, her blind eyes staring into nothingness. 

Imarus gestured to a pair of stools with one skeletal hand “We’d be honoured if you could join us.” He hissed in his clacking voice. 

“Did you just reference Star Wars?” Vincent asked, cocking one grey eyebrow. 

“No.” He shot back, abit too quickly. 

It took a lot of effort on Nyx’s part not to roll her eyes or laugh aloud. 

The obese young woman turned her attention back to the newcomers, sucking some rib sauce off of one fat thumb.

“I apologies for bringing you here on such short notice, or for interfering with any prior engagements you may have had.” She cooed in her sweet voice, her second chin wobbling slightly. 

“I regret having to arrange this meeting through such unorthodox methods,” she continued smoothly “but the threat posed by these so called ‘Hunters’ forced my hand, and made extreme measures necessary.”   

Vincent reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a small white carton, before offering it to the two detectives “Cigarette?” 

Nyxvira looked over the pair. The man had a chiselled, handsome look to him, and his muscular physicality appealed to Nyx’s more primal senses. The woman’s bombshell look struck a nerve with the Faerie, harkening back to the prissy blonde princess who she’d despised her entire life, and the shuddering rage they inspired. Now that she inspected it closer, the magical aura around her stank of a Nymph-like charm, which only served to fan the flames of disgust she felt towards this wretched creature. 

Keeping her face a mask of warmth, the Faerie spoke on “I’m sure I don’t need to spell out to you both how much of a threat the Lycans pose to this city, if allowed to roam about unchecked, and what a disaster it could spell out for us all. I believe it to be in both parties’ best interests to deal with this menace as quickly and efficiently as possible.” 

Nyxvira fluttered her long eyelashes, emphasising the distinctly magical golden orbs which dwelt beneath them. 

“Our sources have identified the leader of this group of Hunters as ‘Den Mother’ Ameilkas.” Lady Sharrahonzu spoke up “a particularly brutal Matriarch who traces her ancestry back to the tribes of ancient Hungary, and the legend of the ‘White Wolf’.” 

“She’s lacking in real world experience, but is exceptionally sadistic and cunning.” Imarus continued “And she holds the elitist laws and traditions of her people above all else.” 

“Something which we hope to use against her.” Nyxvira said with a wicked grin. 

“We’d like to use Detective Amelio’s…condition to our mutual advantage.” Lady Sharrahonzu said plainly “In an attempt to draw Ameilkas into a situation in which she can be quickly dispatched. It only seemed appropriate that his partner were to accompany him.” 

“The mongrel gets put down, we pick off her rabid dogs next, and everybody profits.” Vincent said with a smirk. 

“Before you answer our little proposition, I’d first like you to consider something.” Nyxvira said with a dark grin. 

The back door to the takeaway swung open, and a stumbling figure was pushed inside, followed by two fat Hobbs in dark business suits, pump-action shotguns clutched tightly in their chubby arms. 

A series of sharp prods and jabs, and the figure came shambling into the light. She was an olive skinned woman, whose hands had been bound behind her back with rope, and whose mouth had been gagged with thick oily duct tape. Short dark hair fell down around blue eyes that were wide with fear, and a dark red smear was plastered across her forehead. Her authentically tattooed form was splattered with blood, and she was struggling to stand up straight, possessing a noticeable limp. 

“We make it our business to know everyone else’s business, Miss Johanssen.” Nyxvira smirked with a cold sneer, her warm mask breaking away into a visage which held utter hatred and contempt. She paused for a moment, spooning some more rice in to her fat face. 

“As someone who’s been in this situations many times before, I’d suggested you choose your next few words [i]very carefully, my loves [/i].”