The morning brought cool, crisp winds to the city, as it so often did in the winter time. For Elizabeth, there was never a finer time in the world. Though she had not been on this earth but a measly decade, she had come to realize that the colder months were her favorite. During the times that she was traveling through the city, they left her shivering on the ground at night, restless. However, the cold (and more notably, the snow) reminded her of her dear friend, Mason Timothy. He left her some time ago, and since then she's been living in that old shack he once called a home. Now, it was hers, and she couldn't have been happier. Until hunger struck. It gnawed at her stomach frequently, but Elizabeth always found ways to feed herself. Her abilities. Her traps. Stealing. Begging. It wasn't too terribly uncommon to see people begging for change and food in the streets, and being so young, Elizabeth could gain what she wanted easier.

They'd ask, "Oh, but where are your parents?"

"Home, ma'am. We're very poor," she would reply.

Most never questioned it, but some wanted answers. It made Elizabeth uncomfortable. When people began prying at her for information, she would pick the quickest way to get lost in the crowd and run, grinning widely. She smiled as to not alert people that she was panicked, and they would assume she was simply playing in the streets. Or perhaps running home.

Elizabeth was not a fool. She knew that if she continued to frequent the storefronts, begging for food, people would begin to become familiar with her and either not give her what she wanted or track her more easily. This would also make her more open to attacks from demons. To keep her anonymity took little skill, for mostly she only had to cut her hair, pin it up, or dye it. There were many faces that blended in with one another. Hairstyles matched with a face were more recognizable than anything. Elizabeth used this to her advantage to keep her identity hidden.

On this particular cold, windy morning, she was sitting upon the edge of a pier that stretched out into the lake. She knew that if she fell, the water was could that it would sting her. This didn't keep her from swinging her legs merrily, watching the sun rise slowly above the water. In her mind, she recapped the last few hours before sleeping. She had inspected a hunting trap she'd set up to merrily find a rabbit inside. It was waiting for her at home for when her stomach began to gnaw itself of hunger. Then, as if on cue, her stomach did begin to rumble. Eyes half-lidded, credited to exhaustion, Elizabeth brought herself to her feet and dragged herself back into the city. As it was so early, there were not many people lively ready to wake, and the streets were mainly empty. She could recall taking a few feeble steps past an antique shop before she felt herself falling forward. Blackness.

Anya hummed as she walked down the street, having just fed from a rather kind 'donor' aka some random guy she charmed into allowing her to feed from she was rather happy. She liked early morning, not a lot of people nor not a lot of people to witness her 'convincing' someone to be her food. Though, she didn't kill them anymore unless they posed a threat to herself, she disliked going to other peoples homes.

For all she knew they could be a hunter that weren't aware she was a hunter and try to kill her, which caused all kinds of awkward confusion she didn't really care for. The few people that were out and about trodded by, seemingly not caring that a child was out and about alone. They probably thought she was homeless, which wasn't particularly true. She HAD a small apartment, I mean, child or not one does not simply live for two centuries and not acquire a small fortune. The apartment of course was registered in her Uncles name, which may or may not actually exsist.

She continued walking, humming and smiling to herself, when eventually she happened upon a little girl passed out in the snow. Now, had this been the past, she would have drug the child off into an alleyway and drained her, the child never knowing the difference. But, this was the present, and she felt bad for her.

From the looks of her she rarely, if ever, ate anything besides a few scraps. She looked more alive than dead, really. Anya sighed, remembering her past and how she was when she was found. Anya picked the kid up, wrapping her in her jacket and walked off back in the direction she had came from: her apartment.

It took about an hour, maybe a little over. If anyone asked, she'd say it was her friend and she felt sick so she brought her here. Good enough cover story. Though, anyone awake this early didn't particularly give a damn. Anya entered her apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Anya sat the girl down in her bed and tucked her in to make sure she was warm enough. Now for food. What did ten year olds like to eat? Anya had a wide variety of food, still finding herself to like normal human food on top of blood.

Soup, maybe? Anya shrugged getting a bowl, a spoon, and a can of noodle-o's. She opened the can and put it in the microwave, while it heated she sat down on the couch next to the kid wondering when if ever she would re-gain conciousness.

@xxrhoo

Trinity hated the cold.

The cold reminded her of the icy cold feeling of death. And death reminded her of her mother. And her foster parents. She didn't know if they were dead, of course, but she did her share of mourning regardless. Can't be too careful, what with the living dead up and about.

She walked the streets of Chicago in the early morning when she should have been sleeping in. What the hell was wrong with her? She should be in bed, covers over her head, sleeping in until noon where she would wake up, eat some leftover Chinese food and drink some flat Diet Coke and watch some TV. That's what normal people do, right?

She wasn't normal though. If she were, she may be enjoying Chicago. One of the biggest cities in the United States, it was a marvel to see the skyscrapers and watch Lake Michigan from the pier. No, instead she walked alone the streets, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her guns packed inside and her knife tucked in her pocket. This was her life, the one she chose.

She didn't know what to expect, but she had a feeling. A feeling something would happen today.

Bishop was following another lead on a Cultist sacrifice ritual taking place in Chicago(unspecified location) in an unmapped underground location believed to be a tomb and most likely a very frequented place for satanic rituals. His goal was to annihilate every single living(or dead) thing inside the tomb and then collapse it by using explosives. He couldn't risk a member of the Cult getting out of there alive if he chose to detonate the explosives before exterminating the satanists. It was a very big underground tunnel systems originally serving as the final resting place of humans. Now being used for Cultist rituals it was safe to assume that they modified the underground structure and added a couple of secret escape routes in case of anything going wrong.

He went inside the tomb using the only passage known to him, gun at the ready and walking as quietly as possible avoiding any bones or broken objects scattered in the ground. Minutes after he entered he heard screams while the whole structure started shaking. Bishop knew that this wasn't the work of an earthquake, well not one caused by nature. The scream echoed throughout the tunnels before abruptly coming to an end, the echoes still keeping it as loud and agonizing as it first was when it started. There was no way for him to pinpoint the source direction of the scream. Quickly improvising, Bishop sent out a stream of electricity spreading across the entire tomb, making contact with any electricity-conducting object and returning the information back to him. He "saw" all kinds of coins, some relics, until he felt many daggers and knives gathered in a specific area lying on the ground. He started running not caring much about stealth and surprise tactics anymore. When he reached the destination he saw a room painted red and cultist robes and items lying on the ground as if the bodies vanished leaving everything else not a part of them behind. On better observation he saw that the room was covered in blood and not paint, the blood still fresh and dripping from the walls. A set of staircases that lead to an even deeper level were located in the middle of the room, an out-of-this-world voice was coming from their direction. Quickly deciding that the best course of action to take now, was to throw an explosive in the deeper level and immediately use lightning rush to speed through the tunnels throwing out more explosives at key points of the structure, escaping to the surface level, then detonate the thing in the course of 15 seconds.

But before he could finish his thoughts, the demon emerged from the deeper level and pointed his hand, clenched to a fist, towards Bishop. He sensed an uncomfortable gathering inside his body, wasting no time he drew the gun and shot at the demon's hand, the bullet being infused with his lightning magic therefore paralyzing it in a clenched fist position. Knowing that the paralysis effect would wear off after seconds, Bishop quickly used lightning rush, drew his knife and stabbed it in the demon's left eye releasing a massive electric torrent rushing through the demon's body and destroying his insides while blasting his head to pieces. The pressure-like feeling that Bishop had felt earlier disappeared. He was too careless letting himself open to an attack that would've been fatal if it was coming from a higher ranking demon. Seeing the shape, well more like what was left, of the cultists he knew what would've happened if the demon opened his fist so he took quick action to prevent that. He couldn't afford to die, not without meeting her again...

Amongst all the blood he noticed a folder above the robes of the now-a-stain-in-the-wall cultist. The folder was named "DMC" and after opening it he saw multiple sheets of information portraying people thought to be part of/working with the "Demon Hunters" and all of them were located in Chicago. To his expectations, he wasn't listed in it, this coming from following a simple policy that he himself dictated-"Never leave a witness alive, be it a cultist or passerby while always keeping a low profile." After memorizing all their appearances, abilities and last seen locations, Bishop scorched the folder using lightning, collapsed the tunnels and set off to fulfill his original plan of forming a group of capable demon hunters in response to the upcoming prophecy.

In Elizabeth's barely-conscious state, she recalled the feeling of being lifted. Not as if her spirit was finally crossing over to the other side, either to join the angels or the demons, but as if she were being carried in someone's arms. It was in her instinct to struggle, but she couldn't. This caused her to feel distressed. Either she was being taken off by a human who was going to try to care for her (and inevitably, find out the secrets that were best left to be known by the Demon Hunting community) or she was being taken off by a demon that would either turn her over to their leader or torture her or kill her or eat her or-

Calm down, a voice inside of her said. After all, the only thing she could do was hang limp as she was carried. There wasn't much that worrying herself into full unconsciousness would do for her, other than possibly eliminate the chance of waking up.

The next feeling Elizabeth knew was sudden warmth, and then the sound of a door being slammed shut. Only moments after, she was lain upon something soft, cozy, and comfortable - a bed. What bliss it was to be lying upon a proper, comfortable bed. Back home, at Mason's shack, she slept upon a straw cot that Mason had fashioned specifically for her. This time, she could feel herself falling asleep, and what a nice feeling it was. However, her danger senses were on high alert, and she pushed herself to consciousness.

Elizabeth didn't immediately push herself to a sitting position like she might would have had she not had specific training in Demon Hunting and the dangers it brought. Instead, she cracked her eyes open and slid them side to side. Beside the bed, she could see only a glimpse of a person, because her eyes could not see that far sideways. Slowly, she turned at a slight angle toward the person and was a bit taken aback to see a girl not much older than her lounging upon the couch. At this time, she made her consciousness present. She coughed, gently sitting up, and looked at the girl.

"Where am I?" she asked in a soft, feeble voice, feigning innocence.

Anya was partly asleep by the time the girl had regained consciousness, and partly simply not paying attention lost in her own thoughts. When the girl coughed she snapped back into reality, jumping slightly. "Ooh, you're awake!" Anya shouted happily. "Well, right now you're in my apartment. Found you half dead in the snow, no one else really cared soo I decided to bring you here." Anya got up headed for the microwave "Oh, and don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. I don't really..do that..anymore unless it's a baddie." she called over her shoulder. Retrieving the bowl of soup from the microwave she walked back over sitting it on the nightstand beside the bed. "Also figured you'd be hungry SOO I heated you a bowl of soup. It's been a long time since I was your age so I wasn't really sure what little kids prefer to eat these days" Anya spoke, shrugging, before resuming her seat on the couch near the bed.

To anyone else but Anya what she was saying sounded completely psychotic and would probably get the person committed nigh instantly, but to Anya it was completely normal conversation. I mean, normal so far as her standards go. She thought that maaayybe she should tone down the weird, seeing as the kid seemed to be a normal kid and not a vampire or anything like her, but she didn't.

"Don't worry, the soup is perfectly safe to eat, go ahead." Anya said, smiling, one of her fangs showing. "Ohh, right, I almost forgot to tell you my name! I'm Anya, what about you?" This time smiling fully with her fangs showing.

David had found trouble, again. Of course he always went looking for it. He had performed a future seeing ritual two days ago to discover three werewolves who lured a couple young girls into the woods on the night of the full moon, killing them just before dawn. He'd spent a day and half attempting to find the location where it had occured. When they arrived he loaded his silver rounds and said a quiet prayer, none of them could have been more than a year older than him, children all of them. As the five of them laughed and joked he waited, hour after hour watching them drink and party.

Finally when the two girls were worn out the boys stepped out into the moonlight. Fur sprouted from them and they howled like wolves, the girls scared began to back up against the rocks near David. That's when he jumped. "Stay back!" He yelled as his shotgun blasted silver pellets into the two closet to him. The remaining wolf darted off, beginning to circle in growth, now having a large feast all to himself.

David spoke, hoping to convince the beast to leave."I am a Solomon, if you choose to fight you will die as your friends did. You can leave and never return or die." He stated, the wolf-man charged from the foliage, ready to tear the English boy to shreds. Yet he shoved the cat head of the staff towards wolf it reeled back in fear before six bullets pierced it's heart killing it.

He turned back to the women. "Go now and forget what you saw here... If you tell others more of the beasts will only come after you." He warned before the girls scrambled away, next he began to purify grounds they had killed upon freeing spirits who had not found closure. Finally he burned the bodies of the Werewolves and spread the ash around, should other packs be near they would depart quickly. Nothing scared off wolves like smelling their own dead.

Making way back into the city he could just barely see the sun rising. He loved the cold, Chicago reminded the British boy of his home in London. He paused however as he returned to town, he saw a young girl picking another girl and walking away with her, that's when it struck him. That was the Vampire hunter, she hunted creatures in Chicago like the others he followed wondering what she was doing with the girl. He followed eyes trained on the Vampire girl.

He started to fal behind losing her as the city started to wake up yet when he turned a corner he bumped into girl, Trinity, David dropped his staff and his bag, as he picked up the strange staff and fixed his hat. He looked down, seeing the shotgun was easily within the girls he scoped it up. "Sorry that a... A prop for the play I'm doing." He tried to fake it, but the witch hunters hat, the strange staff, a shotgun? He could he look like anything but a demon hunter.

The soup was set gently upon the bedside table, and Elizabeth found herself staring into the bowl hungrily. However, the statement, "I don't do that anymore," in reference to...killing people disturbed her. As the girl continued to speak, the eerie feeling that Elizabeth felt only seemed to grow. There was a bit of confusion running rampant in her mind, especially considering the girl looked no older than maybe fourteen, yet claimed it had been a long time since she was Elizabeth's age.

Still, she reached for the soup, feeling her hunger get the best of her. After all, she had just been heading home to gruesomely and probably inefficiently skin and gut a rabbit to turn it into a stew. Her fingers had barely brushed the edge of the porcelain bowl when Anya flashed her a smile, sporting very obvious vampire-esque fangs. Elizabeth gasped, involuntary flailing as a shock reflex, and fell toward the girl off the bed. Immediately, she scrambled to reach beneath the chest portion of her dress and withdraw her golden cross necklace, holding it out in front of her protectively.

"Vampire!" she yelled, squeezing her eyes shut. "Get back!"

Anya fidgeted slightly at the sight of the cross, mildly unnerved but, not really enough to bother her much. Mayyybe she scared the kid, she thought shrugging. "Um..It's okay! I'm the good kind!" Anya said nervously trying to figure out words to say that wouldn't, completely scare the hell out of the kid. "I don't kill people! I kill bad people! Like...demons, baddies of my own kind, stuff like that!" Anya continued, shouting nervously. She stood inching closer to her, "Umm..if I wanted to kill you and steal your blood and stuff I would've already cause you were kinda vulnerable and things?" She spoke. "Umm..I'm a Demon Hunter and things so..put the cross back? It's..kinda annoying. I won't hurt you, I promise! In-fact, it's my job to NOT hurt you, yea!"

Anya fidgeted in place, not really sure what else to say. Try to help someone, end up probably mentally scaring them for life and getting them to hate you all within the span of five minutes. "OH, wait. For that matter...how do you know what vampires are, hmm?" Anya spoke, the thought just now occurring to her, how DID the kid know what a vampire was? Most people wouldn't immediately go to that conclusion, at all in-fact. Maybe..maybe she was a hunter too? Anya shrugged. The cross was becoming more and more irritating by the second.

Trinity rounded the corner, mumbling something about fricken cold winter and where it could shove itself when she bumped into something. Or rather, someone as the case was. She heard a fumble and a clatter as the man's belongings fell to the ground. It was then she noticed the man's things. A hat that looked odd, a staff and...a shotgun! She looked up to the man's face to see his reaction to having just dropped a peculiar set of items. "Oh he's kind of cute..." she thought to herself before the man started to scramble and pick them up, making some lame excuse about how it was a prop.

It took some recollection on her part, but she had definitely seen that hat before. She debated whether it was on a commercial for some clothing store or not, when it hit her. She knew exactly where that hat came from and it made sense the man would have both a staff and a shotgun.

She cocked a hip and gave a wide grin "Oh really? A prop for a play? Interesting. It looks so real!" her voice was laced with sarcasm.

David sighed. "Alright you obviously know your stuff." He paused looking her over after her bout of sarcasm, not bad looking but not really his style. "Let me guess your a hunter a too?" The Englishmen said sighing. "You American hunters are all over the place." He grumbled. "David Solomon, from London I'm a traveling hunter." He said gesturing to the staff. "Yes I'm related to the king Solomon from the bible and such." He grumbled looking at her, trying to see where the girl had gone, no use however he lost her.

"Well that's gone, so how can I help you?" He asked pulling a smoke from his pocket and lighting it, they looked like cigarette's but were actually just a simple mix of herbs he used to calm his nerves. Nothing addictive for him, he needed his sense's keen at all times no matter what. "I assume your looking into the shockingly high death rates around here." He responded taking a long drag. "What's your name anyway." He said as he checked his bag making sure everything stayed in place.

Trinity applauded the man's honesty this time around. Showed common sense on his part. And he's English to boot.

"Trinity. I am a hunter, though I probably haven't been doing it as long as you have. I also don't have a...rather impressive bloodline. Sort of just..came into doing this."

She looked in the direction the man was looking in, "What's gone? What death rates?" she punted these questions out fast. "This is the first I am hearing of the high death rates, I just assumed that people kept killing more people year after year. Shows what I know." She looks up at the sky before going back towards the man "I am investigating...my own interests here, that may have to do with the rise in deaths. If not, well...kicking demon 'arse' is always jolly good!" she said in a mock British accent, trying to be witty.

"If you do that accent again I will vomit, it's terrible." David deadpanned and sighed. "Yeah the place has unusually high amount of deaths. I came here to look into it, also I love the weather, reminds me of London... With less cyclists." He chuckled as he looked over at a cafe. "I'll buy you a coffee, that is what Americans drink right?" He asked before slyly adding. "Or is it Coke I can never remember." With that he ducked into the place taking a seat at one of the tables.

David ordered a a cup of Earl Grey tea as he took his seat. "So I know for a fact that the deaths here are rather high, even for an American city. Yet the missing persons case's are high as well, I believe the monsters here are quite active. Perhaps answering to a higher power or simply wanting to cause trouble, if you'd like help I'd be more than willing to assist in whatever your up. After all it seems the Americans do their best when the British watch their arse's. Bloody Yankes."

Trinity stuck out her tongue, she thought she did a bang up job with the accent. At his offer for coffee she nodded "Coffee is fine, thanks."

As they sat down to enjoy their beverages the man went on about the threats here. "I wouldn't mind having someone watch by "arse" as you put it, but remind me: Who won the Revolutionary War?" she smiled warmly at the man to show good nature. After all, he was offering help and, she had to be frank, she had no idea what she was looking for here.

She remembered something "Back then, you said 'Well that's gone', what did you mean by that? Were you chasing something?" she assumed it wasn't a danger, or he would not have stopped to have a coffee with her.

"It was another hunter, young girl about thirteen in appearance. She's a vampire and I saw her grab another young girl and walk off with her. I was trying to follow to find why she grabbed the girl then ran into you, however if she planning on drinking the girl she wouldn't be carrying her. She might just be a friend or something." David shrugged adding honey, lemon, and milk to his tea. "As for the war, well we couldn't really be bother with a bunch of backwards colonials, we could have won if we really wanted to, see the war of 1812." He said sipping his tea.

Finally he sat back and looked out the window. "I knew she was vampire as I asked to a list of the demon hunters in Chicago. She was on it, surprising she's over two-hundred years, looks thirteen and hunts others like herself. Rather a rarity, he said leaning on his staff. "What about you, what kinda of powers do you possess Ms. Trinity?" He smiled looked into her eyes, he gave just a nudge letting her know he could read minds.

With a reluctant and untrusting feeling weighing upon her, Elizabeth only slightly lowered the cross. She made sure that it would be quick to retrieve again, if only to back the vampire up for a moment. The vampire reasoned with her, and Elizabeth figured this was a plausible case - or was it her young naivety kicking it, like she had been trained to ignore? Her heart beat faster and harder as she tried to decipher safe from dangerous, right from wrong, good from evil. Anya claimed to be a hunter. Elizabeth had to let her guard down for now.

Replacing the necklace underneath her dress, Elizabeth looked at the girl carefully. "I'm a Hunter," she responded to her question. "It's my job to-"

Before she could continue, there was a loud knocking that echoed slightly inside of the room. Startled and very obviously confused, Elizabeth looked at Anya and asked, "Are you expecting someone?"

@Tracyarmav@xxrhoo"Oooh, that explains a lot then!"Anya shouted, smiling. "We're on the same team then!" /Finally/ the cross was gone. She thought to herself. "Sorry for sc-" Anya started, then there was loud knocking on the door. She looked over to the kid, "...No. I'm not." Her tone sudddenly changing from that of a child to very serious.

She drew a dagger from her chest holster and held it behind her back, no one ever visited her aside from the man asking for the rent, and he didn't knock that way. Something was wrong, did the head of a coven she killed find her? A hoard of demons maybe?

Anya simply stared at the door for a few minutes, she really didn't want to have to move..she sighed. She'd deal with them just like she dealt with everything else that decided to mess eith her.

Slowly she walked over to the door and opened it to reveal a tall man in a big coat. "My Uncle isn't here right now, it's just me and a friend. You can leave a message if you want?" Anya spoke, feigning innocence. "I could..make you a cup of coffee while you write it or..."

The one bad thing when she was scared, she got serious, and when she got serious she sounded nothing like a kid her age. She cursed inwardly. "I-I think you should leave, actually." Anya spoke, nodding. "I just remrmbered my Uncle doesn't like me talking to strangers, so if you could please..?"

Anya looked up at him, mustering the cutest kid expression she could make, hoping her charm ability would kick in. She didn't know who this man was or why he was here, but it was very possible he was after the kid, and he didn't look like her father either.

Dmitri Pavlovich

@Shikaru@xxrhoo

I pointedly keep my eyes on Anya's, not blinking much, and not buying her story, though it made sense for her to have one. It'd be pretty hard to get by otherwise. I dig into my pocket, pulling out the scrap of paper I'd put their earlier, and hand it to Anya. It's a little wrinkled, but in mostly legible scrawl, Anya's name race and occupation adorn one side, while her address adorns the other. I speak softly in lightly accented English.

"I'm not here to see your Uncle, Anya. May I come in or is this a bad time?"

I keep my hands by my sides, and open, after handing Anya the note, though my fingers twitch reflexively at the nearly blatantly concealed weapon behind her back. If I didn't need err help, and if I didn't know she is a vampire, then I might have tried to disarm her out of habit and for my own peace of mind. As things stand, I try to ignore the obvious threat and pretend that Anya's just a little girl, for the neighbor's sake if nothing else. I did wonder how her friend would react when I took my coat off inside, and he or she got a look at a holstered, but shiny new PP-2000. I was pretty sure, a firearm wouldn't be a huge threat to Anya, so she wouldn't mind it much. But it would be rather awkward if her friend freaked out... oh well, I'd burn that bridge when I got to it. I did take a moment to slowly pull my skull cap off my head, revealing very short blonde hair. My face was clean shaven, my eyes ice blue, my face and hands scarred, but not quite marred by my rough life to date. I bore the aura of a killer, and in fact had the scent of blood on me, as I hadn't noticed some of the inspector's blood staining my coat and drab olive boots. For all that, I was not in anyway projecting threat or harm towards Anya or her friend, I just needed to know if Anya could help me do a job.