Alfie Santini sat calmly in the front seat of his Mercedes-Benz Type 300, his arms folded across his chest in a loose knot. You’ve done this sort of thing a thousand times before he told himself tonights got no reason to be any different.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, Alfie Santini wasn’t fucking with the Rats or the Tong. Tonight, Alfie Santini was fucking with the Hanged Men.

It's all just mind games he reassured himself. They big themselves up with these stories and urban legends, but when the shit hits the fan, they’re no different than any other piece of shit gangbangers.

Nevertheless, there was this one story Santini just couldn’t shake from his head. Supposedly, the Hanged Men had made this kid prove he was tough shit by scooping some woman off the street in the dead of night, and dragging her back to this dark little basement. They’d made him slit her throat then rape her corpse. When the lights turned on, and the kid was standing over the body of his younger sister, he went mad, and the Hanged Men strung him up from a lamppost in the Narrows.

Crazy necro fucks.

Alfie gazed out of his car with hawk-like precision, looking over the United States Customs Service building for the a hundreth time in the last five minutes. The officers were a fat little cube of dusty brown brick and dark tinted windows, with a smattering of unkempt greenery springing up in the flowerbeds out front. Alfie sat and waited, watching the office lights ever-so-slowly flicker out.

Once enough time had passed, and there was only one light left glowing dimly from behind a window, Santini steadily made his way out of the Mercedes-Benz, locking it behind him, and cautiously strode up to the Customs building.

Slipping through the big steely doors outfront, Santini found the interior of the Customs building to be fairly unremarkable; with squat little cubicles and the sort of cheap-looking furnishings you’d expect from a government building.

“Don’t worry, babe. I promise I’ll take the smart route home.” A scratchy voice echoed from down the corridor.

That was James Esparza using the dial-up to call his wife. Esparza worked late on a Thursday, before heading over to the motel down the street to fuck Susan Byrne.

“I promise,” Esparza said again “Yeah, and I’m sorry about what I said about you dad, babe. You know I don’t like the way he talks to you. O-Okay, honey. You know I gotta work late, tonight; there’s nothing I can do about that. Yeah, I’m getting paid for the overtime. Okay, babe. I love you, too. Speak soon.”

Once he was certain Esparza had hung up, and there were no other stragglers hanging about the office, Santini made his way down the corridor, and into Esparza’s office.

The balding middle-aged man had been scribbling away at his desk, and when Santini appeared in the doorway he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, -FUCKING-, Christ!” Esparza yelped “You scared the shit out of me, mister.”

Once his heart was beating a bit slower, Esparza gave Santini a quick look up and down.

“We’re closed now, I’m afraid, sir.” He said slowly “If you’ve got something to declare, you’ll need to come back tomorrow.”

“How long have you been helping the Hanged Men bring Runez into the country?” Santini asked calmly, locking eyes with the man behind the desk.

Esparza went red in the face.

“What in the goddamned…” He spluttered “Sir, I need you to-”

Santini’s hand slipped into his jacket pocket, and when it reemerged he was aiming a Mauser C96 squarely at Esparza.

“Woah...hold on now, mister.” Esparza stammered, as his face dropped “there’s no need to bring guns into this.”

“There’s one thing stopping me from pulling this trigger, Mister Esparza.” Santini spoke slowly, making sure he was easy to understand “and that’s the fact that you’re more use to the Italians alive than dead, right now.”

“By everything holy, I don’t wanna get dragged into this gang war bullshit!” He yelped.

“Too late. You should’ve thought of that before you started taking cash from the Hanged Men.” Santini said sharply “We know that Daniel Harris is being used as a cover to bring contraband into the US. You’re going to make whatever calls you need to make, and get his Import-Export license revoked.”

Esparza’s mouth fell open.

“Do you have any idea what the Hanged men will do to me, if-”

Santini cocked back the hammer on his Mauser.

“You need to make an executive decision,” Santini snarled “are you more scared of the men you work for, or the man pointing a gun in your face, who also knows your home address, and the home address of the secretary you’re fucking on the side?”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Esparza lowered his head in defeat “all of you types are absolutely fucking crazy.”

---

A few days later, Santini was relaxing in his apartment, when there came a knock at the door. He heaved himself up off of the couch, and steadily cracked it open.

Standing out in the corridor were two men and an ogre. All three of them were armed.

“You try anything and I’ll break you in two.” Grumbled the ogre, cracking the knuckles of his enormous, beefy hands.

Fuck.

They pulled him out of his apartment, forced his head into a bag, and then the world went dark around him. He could feel them leading him down a flight of stairs, then tossing him into a car of some kind, whilst his heart pounded in his ears like an african war drum.

After a short drive they pulled the bag off of his head and tossed him out into the night, pushing him down onto the pavement. The ground rushed up to meet him, smashing into his jaw with a bone-crunching ‘THUD!’.

Looming up above him was a lamp post, with a noose tied around it.

“You know what happens next?” asked the Ogre.

“Yeah.” Santini replied.

One of the men took a sip from a canteen, blowing cold air out of his nose.

“Can I have some?” Santini asked weakly.

“Did you serve?” The man asked back.

“I was at Normandy.” Santini replied, honestly.

The man handed him his canteen. Santini took a generous swig, feeling the hot liquid crackle at the back of his throat. He hated the taste of rum.

The man took his canteen back, then the Ogre scooped Santini up in his powerful hands, lifting him as though he were a doll. The noose wormed its way around his neck. He dropped through the air, and the rope started to choke him out, clenching around his throat and ripping into his flesh. As the air was sucked out of him, his limbs began to falil madly, and his eyes felt as though they would pop right out of his skull; his vision breaking away into a mess of bloody ribbons.

“Leave him up there,” he heard the Ogre’s booming voice as the world around him began to slip away “let it serve as a warning.”

The hearth crackled weakly as the fire faded to a glowing smoulder. What was left of the pig glistened as droplets of fat rolled from the carcass into the embers below. It had been a good meal, if simple. The loyalty of the hungry is not difficult to obtain. The low light cast weak shadows across the room. Two small shadows, one with four legs, and one that dwarfed all others.

“How did it go, Matthias?”

“Just like you said, sir!” the small boy paused to lick the grease from his fingers. “They only played one or two more hands before they made excuses to leave. I think we got them for sure!”

“Perhaps, boy. Tell me more of your delivery. Did you stroke their egos? Pump the bellows of their pride?” Luff held out a few scraps from the table to a distinctly stray-looking dog.

“I did just like you taught us. Let them win a few hands, cursed the Silver Hills for my bad luck, and then let it slip in passing. You should have seen their eyebrows!”

“I have no doubt that shall not be the last time a look of surprise crosses their face,” Luff chuckled. “And you, Luke, has anything changed with our friends’ routine?”

“No sah,” the young goblin drawled, “the same every Friday night. Shipment hasn’t changed size or time.”

“Perfect, you’ve done well my friends. Enjoy the rest of your night,”

And with that, the meeting was over. Luff stood without waiting for the young ones to leave and strolled towards the back of his shop. As he brushed through the thick plastic curtain that separated the place where he did the actual butchering from the store counter, he cracked a slight grin. The large blocks of dry ice kept the place at a bracingly low temperature. No matter how many years it had been since he lived in Africa, it was still always so lovely to be shocked by the cold of his back room.

Meat hung on hooks from chains attached to the ceiling. He walked slowly through the sides of beef and pork, thinking all the while. The plan had been laid, now he would wait. Wait for Liu-jhan to get fucked by those militia fools and come running to Luff. He was smiling wider when he reached the far side of his cooling room. With a leathery gray hand, he opened the door to his quarters. With how gung-ho the militia was, he could expect Liu-jhan to come calling as early as tomorrow. It was a good plan, well executed. And so he deserved to rest.


Luff wasn’t sure if it was the first rays of sunshine coming through the window or the loud, distant knocking that woke him from his slumber. Those militia brats don’t waste any time. He slipped on a pair of loose linen pants, one of the few styles that he could find off the rack, and padded through his cooling room to the front of the store. To Liu-jhan. To the first step in acquiring what he needed.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Luff grumbled, feigning a mental fogginess.

“I’m so sorry to bother you Luff but you gotta help me. If I don’t fix this it won’t just be me on the chopping block. Luff, you gotta help me please!”

“Slow down boy,” Luff let out a heavy sigh. “Come inside. Tell me what happened.”

And just like that, the plan was set into motion. Liu-jhan informed Luff of the events of the night. Somehow the Worker’s Militia had heard about a shipment of Demon’s Blood the Tong was bringing into Santa Somabra. They had struck hard and fast. Four Tong members had died with no casualties for the Militia and they made off with the shipment.

“Not only is my life at risk because of this but think of what those fucking low-lifes could do with a shipment of demon’s blood. It would be a massacre!”

“Look, Liu, I understand the kind of situation you’re in but I can’t just go sticking my neck out every time the gangs fight each other. We met during my enforcer days, yes, but now I’m just a butcher. I’ve put that rough and tumble life behind me.”

“Luff please! I’ll give you anything, whatever you want! I can pay!”

“Liu, you know I won’t take your money,” Another sigh. “It sounds like you’re really in a bind here. I'll see what I can do. But just for you, Liu,” Luff’s heart began beat slightly faster in anticipation. “But you’ll have to be forthcoming with me. I’ll need to know the details so that I don’t get myself killed on your behalf,”

“Of course! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

Hook, line, and sinker


It had been easy to get the name. True, Luff had gotten quite a few names from Liu-jhan, but it was one name in particular that he cared about. This whole game was orchestrated over that name. The name of the Tong’s snuff supplier. A high ranking member of the Hanged Men. That name would probably cost Liu-jhan his life. And this game of Luff’s would certainly cost the lives of a few Militia members. It couldn’t be avoided, however. Luff always kept his word. What good is an information broker if you can’t trust what they tell you. So off he went to retrieve the demon’s blood. Even if Liu-jhan wouldn’t be alive to take receipt of it.

That night Luff made his way to the Narrows, a festering sore on the already filthy Santa Somabra. He was not well known here, though many of his eyes and ears called this place home. Fortunately for Luff, he was actually quite inconspicuous. Tall, certainly, but no lumbering giant like most ogres and he lacked tusks to draw the gaze of those passing by. He was simply a butcher, his bloody apron cementing that fact to all the people milling about him on the streets. The dog that trotted by his side was dirty and passed off as a stray easily enough.

He made his way with a quick efficiency to the Militia outpost where he knew the shipment would have been taken to. His network of eyes and ears let him listen in to the beating heart of Santa Somabra.

Pausing for a moment across the street from the outpost, an old abandoned house with rotting shudders and peeling paint, Luff gave the dog a quick scratch behind the ears. And motioned for him to wait. He had found the dog a few weeks back. A lucky stroke of foresight encouraged him to keep the mutt around, feeding it scraps from his butcher’s block. That foresight would enable tonight’s plan to be that much sweeter.

Luff crossed the street in a few short strides and kicked open the door. Immediately his cleavers were in his hands. Without stopping to look, he flung a horizontal chop to the right upon entering the doorway, his sense of smell cluing him in to the guard’s location. As the man’s headless body slumped to the floor, Luff continued into the house.

Being only an outpost, it was only a few short minutes before all six of the Militia members lay dead. He had refrained from decapitating anymore in order to preserve the charade he was weaving. Luff gave a dusky whistle. The dog came running and began to tear into the corpses of the Militia members. Fifteen minutes later, the corpses were barely recognizable. Chunks of flesh had been ripped out and teeth marks adorned each body. Another whistle and the dog dropped the hand from its mouth and followed Luff out the front door. As he began the walk home, vials of demon’s blood hidden in the pockets of his apron, he grinned and shook his head,

“Tsk, seems the Hunters are at it again, huh boy?”

“No, you don’t understand” Jack said, to the maid from housekeeping who, as Jack had initially guessed did not speak English particularly well, “I don’t NEED clean sheets every day. I only NEED clean sheets when I ASK for clean sheets. Otherwise, it is a WASTE of TIME for YOU and ME. I am trying to help YOU… comprende?”

The housekeeper looked at him with a blank face, and after saying something in Spanish that Jack didn’t understand she continued to push the cart full of laundry and sheets away down the hall.

“JUST STOP CLEANING MY ROOM!” Jack yelled as the housekeeper picked up her pace toward the now closing elevator.

As he returned to the now sterile interior of his room Jack huffed angrily. “Oh course she doesn’t speak English, that would have been too easy.” He spoke aloud to no one in particular.

He looked to his dismay at the neatly stacked pile of notebooks and papers that sat on the cheap wooden hotel room desk. It wasn’t very often that anyone or anything managed to get a rise out of the warlock, but this particular housekeeper had done just that, she had also reinforced Jack’s theory that if he were to begin actually making a name for himself in Santa Somabra he would have to get himself a more permanent living arrangement.

Pacing the room Jack thought through his options. “I’m not wealthy enough for those upscale places in city and I’m not Chinese enough for Chinatown, and I will NOT quarter myself in the slums.” Jack looked again around the room, the cogs of his dark mind turning. “There are some inherent benefits in this hotel’s location… It’s far enough away from the prying eyes of the city center and yet just a short ride down the freeway and I’m downtown.”

The plot began to formulate somewhere in the back of his mind, and after again taking in the sterility of his room and muddled neatness of his notes it became clear there was only one truly adequate and effective course of action.

A crooked smile appear on his scarred face as he quickly moved to begin preparations.

—————-

“Housekeeping?” Lona asked as she knocked on room 27’s door, using that same tone of voice she had used 26 other times that day. There was no answer, which typically either meant the guests were gone or asleep or… otherwise engaged.

She knocked again to naught but resounding silence. Then pulling the small master-key from her apron pocket, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. She looked into the purposeful darkness of the room taking a few cautious steps and calling out again, “housekeeping.” It was then it all went black as a man in his underwear hit her over the head with lamp.

——————
“That should do it.” Jack said as he finished drawing his casting circle around the now unconscious maid.

“Okay, just lie still.” He said laughing to himself a little.

He picked up a small dusty tome and flipped through the pages until he came to one where the corner of the page had been folded. The words were written in a dark ink that had faded over the centuries, however they were still legible and held the same power they did as the day they were inscribed.

“Ahem” He cleared his throat, “Servi mei resurgent expergiscimini et revertimini ad me . Tenebricosum ministra mihi hanc formam semel.”

At once the charcoal inscription began to glow a dark purple and the candles that were once the the only light in the room went out. The building began to shake to its foundation and unbeknownst to Jack, all the windows in the hotel shut at once, giving the guests a terrible fright, but one only minor compared to what was to come.

The housekeepers body began to shudder and writhe, her eyes rolling back into her head as if to see something hidden within.

A laugh came from her body, but instead of the soft and silky voice of a young Spanish woman, it was the high piercing voice of something inhuman.

Then, as if on cue with the laugh, as quick as the commotion had come so was it gone.

“For Christ's sake Pip, every damn time! There is no need for the dramatic nonsense.” Jack scolded in a harsh tone.

“Well, it’s been awhile, I’m sorry… just please don’t say that name again.” whined the being in an oddly high pitched English accent.

“I’ll say CHRIST as much as I want thank you very much. You’re an imp, so act like it and stop whining. We have work to do.”

“GHAA! That hurts!” The imp cried.

“Shut up, or else next I call your spirit it will be to inhabit the body of a mole!” Jack snapped.

“Aye, what’s the plot this time then?” Pip, squeaked sheepishly.

“Well, I need to get myself set up in this town. I need a pace of my own, a base of operations if you will.” Jack explained, now pacing the room— still in his underwear— talking out loud to himself as much as to his fiendish companion.

“So what ya` thinkin` then? Dread fort on a hill? Tower of darkness?”

“No, actually this hotel would do quite nicely.”

“The hotel? This place is a dump?”

“If I wanted your input Pip, then I would have asked for it,” Jack snapped. “Anyways, yes this ‘dump’. The only thing we need to deal with is the guests and staff, but for you and I that should be no problem.”

“Alright, alright, and after we take the hotel?”

Jack stopped his pacing and stood looking out the room’s sliding glass door. In the distance, not too far off he could see the bright glow of Santa Somabra.

“We set our eyes on the heart of this city and see just how much our profession is worth.”

A sharp rap at the door woke Luff from his sleep. Immediately awake, his mind churned at who could be calling at this time of night.

Liu is dead, his crew is dead. No one conspires to steal from the Tong and lives. No active jobs, no word that anyone was looking for a fixer. This better be important.

He pulled on his linen pants and walked slowly to the door, a cleaved gripped tightly in his hand.

“Who is it?” he called out foggily. Best if they underestimated him.

The only reply was another sharp rap. Luff had reached the door and paused for a moment. He cracked his neck once, twice, three times and opened the door as far as the chain would allow.

“Perhaps you’ve not heard the clocktower, sir, but it is quite late,” Luff gave the ogre equivalent of a pitying smile. On the other side of the door stood two men in pinstripe suits and bowler hats. Antediluvians, by the way they stood.

“I do apologize Luff, but our boss said it was urgent and we all know you’re the best,”

“Shit,” he said. “Well don’t just stand around drawing attention to yourselves. Come on in.”

Luff dealt with the Jews on a frequent basis. He liked them because they were smart. They didn’t have the muscle of some of the bigger gangs but they knew their product and they knew their market. And they put a priority on good old fashioned customer service, something hard to find these days. He walked into the parlor that was off to the right of the store counter. Luff set his cleaver down on the table, slowly, so the Jews knew he’d had it.

“Alright, talk. What’s so urgent that your boss felt it was necessary to disturb my beauty sleep?”

The Jews shifted awkwardly under Luff’s one-eyed stare, unsure if there had been an attempt at a joke or not. “We need somebody taught a lesson. Somebody trying to nose their way into the market. His product sucks, his infrastructure sucks, and honestly he sucks. He’s a terrible gun-runner but we want an example to made out of him. Our boss says you set the best examples so..here we are.”

“I see fellas,” Luff’s eye narrowed causing them to step back slightly. “But you still haven’t explained why you’re here, with no prior communication, at one in the morning!” Luff didn’t yell hardly ever but his tone had taken a flinty edge that caused the messengers to cringe back.

“Y-you’re right sir, we forgot to mention that part. The urgency is this: we have word that the punk has a big shipment coming in tomorrow morning. Instead of preparing to receive it, he’s going to get his dagger sheathed over in the Redlight district. So our boss wants you to make the move tonight so that we can help ourselves to his shipment tomorrow and squash any competitive spirits that might be bubbling up against us in Santa Somabra.”

“Fine, it’ll be done tonight. Though you know how much I hate an under-planned hit. The rate doubles.” The gangsters’ faces paled at that.

“Our boss only gave us one-and-a-half,”

Luff sighed as his false offer was refused as expected. “Fine, I’ll take what you have but I want Jewish protection for my shop’s business in Tranquil Valley.”

“Uh, yeah that’s fine, sir. I’ll see to the safety of your deliveries myself. No one will touch them.”

“Then we’re in business boys. Write down the details I’ll need and see yourselves out,” With that Luff rose and walked into the back of his shop.


Luff walked quietly through the Redlight district. It was wholly unnecessary, however. Had there been a riot of undead raging through the streets, the occupants of the most hedonistic district couldn’t have been bothered. Whether it was flesh or drugs, the whole district to a man seemed utterly consumed by the pleasure at hand. Everyone but Luff, that is. His business was far more sinister.

The whorehouse the Jews had pointed him to was fast approaching on his right. He walked right past the front entrance and kept walking until he reached the entrance of the alley leading to the rear of the brothel.

It was a filthy, dark thing the alley. In that way in resembled the brothel to which it belonged. How it differed was the quiet that seemed to block out the bright lights and garish sounds from the the main strip of the Redlight district. Luff found the rear entrance of the brothel guarded by a single orc. He stood half a foot shorter than Luff but brutish tusks protruded from his bottom jaw. The orc regarded Luff warily and placed his hand on his hip, brushing aside his coat and revealing his piece.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Luff held up the large brown paper sack. “Whores gotta eat,” the butcher’s apron completed the charade and the orc relaxed, waving him inside. Luff nodded appreciatively and took the steps up to the door two at a time.

As he ducked to clear the doorway, his nostrils flared at the sickly odor that washed over him. Perfume, sweat, and sex all stewed together and brought up to temperature by dozens of warm bodies. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. It would all be worth it, however, to have his network expanded and protected to another wealthy district. Even if the Jews thought they were just protecting deliveries of meat. Another district ripe with secrets for the eyes and ears of Anansi to harvest.
He’d only had the walk to the Redlight district to plan something special for this new gunrunner. It wouldn’t be his finest work but it would certainly set the kind of example the Jews were after.

The large common area of the whorehouse was circular with private rooms dotting the walls. A square bar located in the center of the room was tended on all sides by what Luff could only presume were vampires. This would need to be delicate.

Girls milled around in varying degrees of undress, attempting to loosen the wallets of patrons. Once an agreement was settled, the patron would be led by the hand to a private room. It would not be long before one of the girls summoned up the courage to try and seduce an ogre. Luff needed to find his mark quickly.

It took just a few minutes for him to spot the novice gunrunner. A drink in his hand, the poor sap was talking to two of the cheaper girls. Luff walked up behind him and slapped him on the back.

“G-george, is that you?” he slurred, “I didn’t think I’d see you around this joint for a while. How’s that rash coming along?” the girls gave the man who was not long for this world a disgusted look and stalked off.

“What the hell man? I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, but you will,” Luff whispered in his ear before pricking him with the syringe he had removed from his apron pocket.

“W-what the fu..” George wilted like a flower under mid-day sun.

Luff placed George’s arm over his shoulder and began to lead/drag him away from the common area and towards the restroom. Closing the restroom door behind him, he set George roughly on the toilet. Holding his jaw with one hand, he threw a huge punch into the man’s cheek. The skin over his cheekbone split instantly and began to ooze blood. Within a few moments the skin around the man’s eye had turned a cruel shade of purplish-black. Satisfied, Luff picked the man up and tossed him over one shoulder. Ducking to clear the doorframe, Luff made his way to the rear exit.

“Poor sap tried to touch without paying, boss had me take out the trash,”

“Hah!” the orc guard grunted. “That’s a nasty looking bruise. Boss don’t mess around does he? I can take him from here if you like.”

“Nah, I’ll leave you to the quiet. Got a bit of extra meat, too, if you’re hungry.” Luff removed the hunk of raw beef from his brown bag and tossed it to the orc who caught it greedily.

“You’re a good man! What’d you say your name was? Can’t say I’ve seen you around before.”

“It’s George,” Luff smiled.


There were no lights in the warehouse save the pale sheen of the waning moon that shone through the cracked windows. In the middle of the room was a chair, in it a man whose head lolled on a boneless neck. In a circle around him were a dozen small, hooded figures. Each one giggling as Luff walked into the circle and towards the man in the chair.

He had changed clothes. Instead of linen pants and a butcher’s apron, he was covered completely by a hooded, black robe. Over his face was a grotesque mask made of bone. It was a good mask. One Luff had used with great success on many nights just like this one. In one hand was a rusted bone saw.

The closer he got to the unconscious man, the louder the giggling became. It was not a human noise, no, it was higher, tinny almost, and somehow infinitely more wicked. With a vicious slap Luff brought George hurtling back to consciousness.

“Wha-where am I? Who are you? Who are they? What do you want?”

“George, george, you’ll have all the answers you need soon enough,” Luff’s voice had taken on a dusky timbre, throaty and devoid of aggression. When Luff said the man’s name, the small figures echoed it in a round

George, George, George, George

“Whatever you want man, I’ll give it to you. I can pay, just don’t do anything you’ll regret,”

“Why, George, I never do anything I regret. In fact, there is no possible way for this to turn out in a manner I'm not pleased with.” The small, cloaked forms had gone back to giggling amongst themselves.

The man went silent at that, a stony look slipping into his eye.

Oh good, I had hoped he wouldn’t make it too easy.

“I prefer to be straight-forward in these situations George. You had no business bringing guns into Santa Somabra. The Hanged Men simply won't stand for it.” Luff articulated that last sentence slowly, each word rolling gleefully off his tongue.

At that, any remaining color in George’s face drained. Though Luff knew the Hanged Men wouldn’t take kindly to his little impersonation, he didn’t think anyone would tell..

“T-the Hanged Men? I’ve never done anything to intrude on your turf, sir. Never I promise. All I wanted was a little piece of the Jews’ business for myself. That’s it. But I don’t want it if it means crossing the Hanged Men. I promise I’ll give it all up.”

“We already know about the shipment coming in just a few hours George. In fact, we know a lot about you. About your family. It’s a shame, really. They seemed to really enjoy having their insides where they belong, ” it was a long shot, assuming anything about the family but it seemed to pay off. The stony glint was gone, fled tail-between-its-legs at the idea of a headline involving the Hanged Men and his family.

“P-please don’t hurt them. I’ll leave Santa Somabra and never come back, just leave my family out of this. They’re not even in Santa Somalia yet,”

“Tell us about the other shipments George,” the small hooded creatures began to echo tell us tell us tell us.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“And here I thought you understood the terms of our arrangement. You be honest with me, as I’ve been honest with you, and maybe I’ll let your family live,”

“A-and me? Am I going to live?”

“That’s twice now you’ve not answered my question George,” Luff tapped him on the leg with the bone saw. “Don’t make me ask again,”

George sagged, any resistance faltering, a look of helplessness in his eyes,“It’s next week. Different spot. It’s coming by Wyvern Rock. Same time as the one tonight,”

“Thank you George, that really was quite helpful. You’ll be pleased to know I’m not actually associated with the Hanged-Men so you’re corpse won’t be raped or some such nonsense. And until you confirmed it, I had no idea that you even had a family. So they are perfectly safe as well,” George’s face was a frozen mask of surprise. “You will be dying, however. The Jews don’t take kindly to competition. They wanted to send a message so I suppose that’s what we’ll be doing,”

“You bastard! You think you can just screw with me like that?” Luff ignored him.

“Now, the biggest problem I’ve run into in my years of business is that it’s impossible to be in two places at once. Perhaps you’ve encountered a similar conundrum? Well I believe I’ve finally found a solution. In fact, I’m going to put you in four different places at once. All over the city! An opportunity of a lifetime!” With that, Luff set to work quartering him with that bone saw. It was messy work but he always delivered.


Luff yawned as he walked out of the warehouse. He wore his butcher’s apron and held in his hand a large brown bag. A passerby may have noticed him, certainly, but they would not have noticed four small shapes scurrying into the darkness carrying a package of their own. From the warehouse in the Redlight district they seemed to head in opposite directions.

As Luff rounded the corner of the final stretch before he could be rid of this foul district and its smells of greed and lust, he heard shouting from the alley on his left.

“You stupid bitch! I’ve never met a more useless whore in my whole life. It’s not that hard. Men are simple all you have to do is make them happy and nothing bad will happen to you. But you can’t even do that! Now I’ve got a pissed off customer with mob connections who wants your head. Del, I don’t give a shit about you but I hate to lose all of my investment. Can you turn it around and figure out how to whore correctly or should I give you to your most recent customer. I’m sure he can think of how you can repay him for taking a chunk out of his dick!” Accenting his words were open handed slaps across the woman’s face.

Luff turned to watch as a young dark elf women with flowing white dreadlocks spat into the man’s face. This was about to get very bad so Luff turned to continue walking. Or he would have if something in his gut didn’t twist and turn at the thought of that woman’s fate.

“Sir,” He called, making his way down the alley and disbelieving his own actions. “It sounds like you have a problem that I may be able to assist with. How much for the girl?”

“Back off you animal this doesn’t concern you,”

“Oh but I believe it might,” ignoring the man’s bigotry, “If I heard you right, you hate to lose an investment but you can’t keep this young woman. Well I’ve been in the market, so to speak, and would like to purchase her from you. I’ll ask again, how much for the girl?”

The man paused to think at the proposition. Luff could tell the benefits of it were registering in his mind. The dark elf woman just stood there and glowered at him.

“$500. She’s worthless to me but she’s still flesh. At least I can recoup some losses.”

“Deal,” Luff pulled out his wallet and handed over some of the money from the job he'd done for the Jews. The man shoved the Dark Elf towards him. Luff steadied her with his large hand and nodded at the man.

She attempted to bite him but Luff just forced her jaw away with one large finger. She couldn’t have been more than five-and-a-half feet tall. She looked positively tiny standing next to an ogre, even a runt of one. He lead her out of the alley and onto the street. They walked in silence for a few minutes, her glare never faltering, before he stopped and turned to her.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Why do you care? You name all your whores?”

“I’ve never owned a whore before, to be truthful, so there’s really no precedent. But that’s besides the point. I don’t own you. I just paid the price of your life, that’s all. I’d just like a name and you’re free to go. Try not to become a whore again. It seems you’re quite dreadful at it.

She glared at him, softer than before but just as unrelenting. “What do you mean I’m free? You paid for me, right? Why would you do that if you didn’t want to use me? That’s how this works you idiot”

“If you knew anything about the mating ritual of ogres, you would not be even suggesting it dear. I’m just not fond of men who pick on those who can’t help themselves. So I paid for you to be free of that asshole. That’s all.”

“I can stick up for myself, thanks. I was doing just fine before you showed up,”

“Well then prove it. Scurry along and have a nice life.”

The glare finally faltered at that. “My name is Delwyn. If I ever see you again, you can call me Del. And, uh, thanks I guess,”

“Have a nice life Del,”

Shaking his head, Luff continued on his way home. Luff, the defender of cheap whores, how magnanimous. Despite the oddity that had just occurred, for Luff was still somewhat surprised at his own actions, the night had been a resounding success. The Jews would be pleased and his networks could expand with absolute safety. Additionally, he was the sole possessor of the whereabouts of George’s next and final shipment. That information had to be worth something to somebody, right? Luff cracked a toothy grin at the thought of it.

The body turned slowly in the faint morning breeze. Face purple, eyes open and staring, tongue protruding like a runway for the flies buzzing around his face.

"Think it was the Hanged Men?" said Whyte, lighting a cigarette.

Captain Rizzo frowned, "All you Bureau guys smart asses?"

He was leaning on one of the half dozen squad cars parked around the scene, enjoying his own cig. Besides closing off the street, SSPD seemed pretty non-nonchalant about the situation. No one had yet shown up to cut the dead man down.

"Not all of us are smart," said Whyte, exhaling smoke through a nose slightly crooked from an old break, "When'd you boys find this guy?"

" 'bout an hour after the deed was done," said Rizzo, "Name's Santini. No known affiliations."

"Santini's an Italian name," said Whyte, "just like yours, Cap."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" asked Rizzo.

Agent Whyte raised both eyebrows and stuck his hands in his pockets, "I'm with the Bureau for the Regulation of Magic."

"I know where you're from," said Captain Rizzo, puzzled but still annoyed.

"That is to say, I'm not with the FBI," said Whyte, "Criminality, per se, doesn't interest me none. Drug-smuggling, corruption, graft, that sorta thing. Not my area. As you prob'ly could tell by the name, we specialize in magical crimes. The sorta crimes committed by, say, the Hanged Men. Not so much crimes by local gangs or, uh, mafias."

"I think I follow, Special Agent," said Rizzo.

"Glad to hear it, Cap," said Whyte, pulling a flask from his jacket and offering it to the other man. Rizzo considered for a minute, then took a long pull. Whyte took the flask back and did the same, wiping a trickle of booze from his chin with the back of his hand.



Whyte knocked on the bar and his empty martini glass was replaced with a full one. He threw the barkeep a wink. She was pretty, if you liked Italians. And Whyte liked 'em just fine.

"Takes stones for a Fed to come in here," she said, "Drink's on the house."

"Appreciate that, doll."

She shrugged, "Seems only right, might be your last one."

Whyte shrugged back and sipped his cocktail, "Live dangerously or don't live at all."

"Family motto?"

"Nah, I just made that one up," he said, taking another sip of his drink, "You know, this is really quite delicious. Won't you have one?"

Whyte swept an arm at the empty bar and the mostly empty restaurant behind him, "Hardly anyone here but us."

"You think that's true?"

"Not really," said Whyte, "I'm good at my job."

He lit a cigarette as Giovanni Riina sauntered out from the back room. Late fifties, dressed in a blue suit. A serious looking man. Trim, greying mustache and dark eyes.

"Camilla," he said to the barkeep, "A drink for me, what he's having."

He sat down next to Whyte. Neither man offered their hand.

"I don't like Feds in my establishment, talking up my daughter," he said.

"What do you like, Mr. Riina?"

"These days? I like dead vampires and dead porno junkies."

Whyte smiled and sipped his drink.

Fix sniffed the air deeply as his eyes darted back and forth up and down the small alleyway that he and Direo were currently occupying. The usual scent of garbage and grime was thick and he wrinkled his snout at the sharp tang as a whiff of urine intermingled with the cool night air. The smell of evening cooking was also mixed in, though he couldn’t fathom what food any of the nearby residents could possibly be preparing from the mixmash of unpleasant odours that reached his snout.

“Smells like damp ass here…” grumbled the Gnoll, a giggle from Direo being the only response he received as he handed him a paper bag filled with cold hard cash. Fix opened the bag and peered inside briefly, the crumpled faces of the nation’s founders staring up at him before he rapidly stuffed it inside of his jacket with another cautionary glance behind him. A few moments later he returned a bag filled with a portion of the latest batch of Fairy Dust and other gear before he tossed it into the waiting arms of Direo, who moments later had hidden it somewhere on his person.

“It’s cut more than I’d like this time” admitted Fix with a cautionary word “but shouldn’t be too much of a problem if you sell it mostly in the Narrows”. Fix knew not to fuck with the quality of the merchandise elsewhere, but in the Narrows drugs were drugs no matter what.

The Gnoll nodded furiously and hesitated for a brief moment before he asked “Got a smoke boss?”

Fix grinned before reaching for the packet of cigarettes from within his inner breast pocket, pulling one of the smokes out for himself he tossed the remaining half filled pack to Direo who did the same before Fix lit both of them with the small silver lighter he produced from his pocket. As they both began to smoke a quick stream of banter flitted back and forth as they discussed business and pleasure alike, Direo filling him in on the last few evenings skulking and selling, nothing new or unusual but still Fix listened intently. In return he told the Gnoll that things were going well enough, before again with a glance around he leant closer and motioned for his companion to do the same.

"I'll clue you in, our problem is that still no one wants to deal with us" Fix complained as he watched a small mouse scurry out from behind one of the piles of steeped refuse beside them with one eye "those that do only do it when they've nowhere else to turn".

The other Gnoll nodded again but didn't add anything further, so Fix continued "You know that Liu-jhan?"

Again silence from Direo.

"The Tong boys who worked with us before?"

The Gnoll nodded.

"Dead."

A look of comprehension spread across Direo's face as Fix continued. "So thats their shipment of Demon's Blood gone, poof, plus any good will with the Tong wiped clean with it. The damned Nyctari and Antediluvians won't even talk to me, and the Italians seem to feel about the same despite the Dust and other gear they do sell us when it suits them. Fuckin punks the lot of em I tell ya".

It was the first time that their conversation had been filled with more gripes than humour, and the smile on Direo's face was rapidly fading. Fix took the opportunity to pull out a battered metallic flask and take a deep swig before handing it to the other Gnoll, who did the same.

"Tell me Direo" he asked dropping the cigarette butt and crushing it under his clawed foot "You ever heard of this character, goes by the handle Anansi or something?"

Direo thought for a moment before nodding and replied "Yeah Boss, some ogre information broker, used to roll with some of the older Rats but moved on to bigger things. Not sure where he is now, somewhere better than us I'd wager".

"Thats what I've heard too, apparently he worked with Gnolls in the past, so I figured he might do so again if we made it worth his while. Anyway, I've been telling the other boys and now I'm telling you, if you sell to any of the homeless or vagrants you tell em that I'm lookin to break bread with him, I'm looking for information and contacts and I can pay well to get em".

----

Fix sat with his feet up as he furled through the tatty pages of an old pin-up magazine with several scantily clad human women. Odd, he thought, that he found them just as appealing as woman of his own kind, odder still that they didn't feel at all the same about him - or so experience had more than shown him. The desk before him was covered in all manner of papers, empty bottles and other miscellaneous junk and he took little notice as he shifted and an empty bottle fell and clattered onto the floor adding to the accumulating mess of the warehouse.

Behind him a trio of Gnolls and a single goblin moved around the makeshift laboratory packing and processing a numerous quantities of drugs into small easily sellable amounts. Behind them was the sole car the group owned, a rather shabby second hand Chrysler Newport that despite its relative youth had already seen better days and had begun to rust in several places. The trunk was open and the unmistakable stench of dope permeated the air, a recent shipment having been brought in waiting its turn to be processed.
The whole while in the background the radio crackled and spat out tune after tune, broken only by periodic announcements and adverts. Time seemed to be creeping by with little restraint as they each did what is was Fix paid them to do, what they were each best at. Soon enough the central table was cleared and stacks sorted into packages for each of his slingers lay stacked over another desk in the corner. Looking up again Fix threw the magazine onto the desk as he moved his feet off and turned to face the rest of them. One of the Gnolls, Dom, was now in the process of telling the others a story about some Gnoll working gal he'd found working along Drabstreet and suffice to say it soon had them all in fits of laughter as he explained the freaky shit she'd let him do and the low low price of her time.

"Classy as always Dom" joked Fix as soon as he had recovered, about to add something else when at that moment Direo came rapidly striding into the warehouse, swiftly throwing a rolled up newspaper towards Fix without saying a word. Unrolling it he asked "Whats this? Paper for the can? You bring me a cup of joe too?" which roused sniggers from the small group who all were now watching and waiting to see what he would say.

Fix unrolled it and glanced down at the headline and saw in bold words 'Another Murder in Santa Somabra, gang's drug warfare starting to spiral out of control'. Skimming the article he saw precious few details as to who or what exactly had been whacked, but with what he knew about the Tongs he wondered if it wasn't linked in some way.

"And?" said Fix looking back up at Direo.

The Gnoll quickly explained "I been talkin to people like you said, anyway, so one of the jazz cats told me that one of the Italians got himself strung up by the hanged men for some shit he pulled with the customs office. He also tells me word is some of the Workers Militia here in the Narrows got themselves fucked up big time by the Hunters, but no-one could tell me what their beef was. You told me yesterday some of the Tong boys got themselves dead too, so sounds like there might be space to move up in the world soon enough".

The group was now centred around Fix as he considered things. He had to admit he loved how his crew all turned to him and waited on his every word and instruction - like he was some kind of freakin genius or something.

"Alright" he said as his face crumpled as he thought. "Business as usual for now boys, but keep an ear - no both ears to the ground. If everything is about to blow up I don't want any of us catching the shrapnel for shit we ain't done. I wanna know who and more importantly why". He turned to Dom and asked "One of your brothers is tight with some of the Hunters right? Find out why they are fuckin with the Militia and stirring it up if you can. Grizzo, I want you to try and find out what you can from the Tong - but don't get pulled in, ask em about the Demon Blood shipment and see if they're still able to sell us anything, but be delicate for fucks sake - I don't want them thinkin we had anything to do with that." Dom and the Goblin both nodded and scurried out without further words.

Fix ground his teeth a little, a habit he'd developed when he was dreading an upcoming task. "And I guess I will go and see what the Italians can tell me and see if they're looking to up their import and distribution game. The rest of you stay, don't get killed and for fucks sake keep working" he barked as he pointed a clawed finger at the huge stack of stinking dope that was still reeking up the place. See the thing about working with the Italians was that, if you weren't with them you were against them. If they were clashing with the Hanged Men it meant that they'd expect Fix and his crew to do the very same if they wanted to business together, and Fix had worked awful hard to stay off the radar of those whackos - something he'd be in no hurry to change.

Undisclosed Location, Nyctari Territory

Reinhard sat at his desk, adjusting the bandages that covered his face. He would clack his teeth lightly, drawing in a dry breath of air. He didn't really need to breath, nor need air, but, for some reason, he still continued to do so. His service pistol was on the table, currently taken apart in order to clean it. The fan above him spun methodically, creating a cool drafting of air, though it made no real difference to him. Across for Reinhard sat a Ljósálfar female, still valiantly struggling against the bindings that held her in place. In a dry, irritated voice, he spoke out to the woman.

"Its of no use to fight any more Fraulein. You and your bodyguards have lost... at least I have chosen to spare you for the time being. Your guards, not so much." He steepled his fingers, whilst looking at the Elf. She had a black eye, and a split lip, along with a few other bruises, but such can not be helped when capturing someone. "Your magic will not work here, no matter how much you pray, try, and resist, it will not work. Your kind are far too predictable, Fraulein, too easy to outvit. No doubt you are used to dealing with the more run of ze mill type of dead, and Vampires. I am neither, and you will soon learn why that is so." He sighed, a dry airy raspy sigh.

"Let me tell you a story, one that you may have heard from a certain point of view, but perhaps not from mein." He stood up, and walked over to the other side of his desk, sitting atop the desk, looking the Elf directly in her eyes. She stared back, hateful and angry, still thinking and trying to find a way out, a means of escape, holding onto the embers of hope.

"You know the Holocaust, yes? You've heard the stories, of all the dead, the Antisemitism, final solution, blah blah blah? Yes, of course you have, who hasn't? You can't go anywhere without people reminding one another just how great of a job you did, stopping the killing. Von sing is, you are very wrong as to the purpose behind this systematic eradication of an entire people... or perhaps groups of people." He smiled, the dry dead skin of his face tightening, making the smile seem much more unsettling than a normal smile would.

"You can smell it, I see how your wrinkle your nose at the stench, the aroma. You have been taught your whole life what it is, how to avoid it. The taint of the other side, of Hell. Why else do you think I am alive, after all these years? I can tell you know what I am speaking about, and better yet, I can see how much it scares you, even if you sit there all fight and no humility." He removed the bandages from around his face, letting them fall to the table beside him. He smiled again, letting out a low cackle of malicious amusement.

The Elf leaned back in her chair, trying to keep her distance from Reinhard. The wave of demonic energy that came off of him was nauseating, it was choking and painful, at least it was to the Elf. Reinhard's eyes were glowing a bright green, the sockets where a normal set of eyes would be occupied a set of seemingly glowing orbs. "As you can see... I am not like the others you have come across foolish Elf. Now you fully understand what I am, you will begin to see the full scope of everything, and why I have spared you."

He stood up, moving now to stand behind the Elf, placing his hands on her shoulders. She tried to move away, but how far could one really move when tied to a chair. "The Black Sun Society was instrumental in coordinating the movement of all that fuel, of all those human sacrifices. Six million Jews, a million other undesirables, the Untermench. Of course, they said it was because we hated them, that they were inferior, but no, the real reasons were far darker, Fraulein. Far, far darker. The dark secrets we learned, the foul things we did... it was all for the greatness of the Reich, and for the Black Sun." He paused, leaning down to have his face next to the Elf's. "Buchenwald, Auschwitz, Dachau, you called them concentration camps, but to me, they were sacrificial alters. Great fuel depots for what we had to do, what we wanted to do. Why do you think we almost won the Battle of the Bulge? Hmm? The only reason you won was that we had our hands tied up until the very end, we were feared as much as we were valuable. So Elf, tell me, what makes you think you know anything?" Reinhard stood back up, fixing his uniform before returning to his chair.

"Your blood is far more powerful than you have ever known Elf... far more powerful then even ten thousand humans. Your guards, they were of great use to me, but you, Fraulein, you are of even greater use to me. Blood magic, and demon magic, these powerful magics are the gateway to the future. And you, you will help me achieve these goals. You are alive because I allowed it, and because I need you as much as you need me. The Vampire, they hate your kind, the two guards were payment for you... so when I tell you to be thankful, and to submit, remember, there are fates far worse than death."

“Goooood evening, ladies and gents! This is Dean Davey, coming to you blissful and wishful from my humble little studio, here in the city of sinners! You’ve tuned in to the Lonely Rambler, and we’ve got some of my faaaaaavorite records playing tonight, so don’t you go anywhere! Up next; ‘Til I Waltz Again With You’, by the gorgeous Teresa Brewer!”

Nyxvira Bloodbloom sat with one leg folded over the other, plopped down on the tacky couch which stood at the centre of her cramped little apartment. The Faerie took a long drag from her joint, feeling a plume of smoke flood back into her lungs, as the sweltering california heat came rolling in through her open window.

England had its highs and its lows. America just seemed to be hot all the bloody time.

You’ve fallen far, kiddo she thought to herself, her mind wandering back into times gone by, as it so often did. Oak and redwood had given way to fumes and palm trees, and Nyxie had gone from nobility to street trash in a handful of years. She longed to be back in Surrey, back amongst the pure tranquility of her homeland, but her new world was one of concrete and grime. For Nyxie, wanting to go back home was like wanting to be back in a relationship with someone who’d fallen out of love with you. It was pointless and stupid, but she yearned for it all the same, so she kept on clinging to those shreds of her past, hoping that some miracle would fall in her lap and wipe away all her problems.

Pulling the joint away from her plump lips, Nyxie coughed a waft of smoke out into the apartment, gazing down at the bright orange lights which burned out in the darkness of Santa Somabra; like dancing embers flickering over a pile of charred wood.

She could still remember her last night in the grove with complete and utter clarity. Her siblings her come for her in the night, pulled her from her bed, and forced her down into the muddy ground. She could taste the leaves and twigs in her mouth.

“If you were smart you’d have slept with a gun.”Her eldest brother had said to her, before he stamped on her left hand and broke two of her fingers. “You never were very smart.” He’d added.

You never were very smart.

That had stuck in her head.

You never were very smart.

The Faerie ground her joint into the apartment wall, letting a waterfall of ash and Fairy Dust flutter to the ground, before heaving herself up off of the couch, and turning off the radio with the twist of a knob.

Nowadays, she slept with a gun. A Walther P38 which she kept on her, wherever she went.

Pulling on her chequered blazer, the full-figured young woman made her way out of the apartment, the tinge of fairy dust still fresh in her lunges.

“Evenin’, bitch.” a disgruntled looking she-orc called out as Nyxvira passed her in the corridor.

“Slag,” Nyxie shot her a quick nod, causing her red curls to wobble “taken any good dick, lately?”

“Eaten yourself to death, yet?” The Orc called after her, as the Faerie vanished down the staircase.

Draper’s Saloon had become a graveyard ever since the Nyctari seized control of the Red Light District, so the owner had taken to renting out the girl’s rooms; only after Concetto Nyctari, the runt of the vampiric litter, had pointed a gun in his face and carted his whores off to some ritzy brothel on one of the nicer streets. The Nyctari were not so-subtly trying to drive their competition out of Santa Somabra in every sense of the word, so Nyxie was paying a fraction of the rent she’d have to for living anywhere else in the city. The Nyctari storming in a putting the whole place to the torch was a very real possibility, but there was nothing in her apartment which Nyxvira Bloodbloom couldn’t live without.

After a short walk down tatty hallways with peeling wallpaper, Nyxie made her way to the bar itself, which was on the verge of disrepair. Dust coated everything, clouding the room in a musky sheet of grey speckles, and making the air taste like sickly death. The ceiling was dotted with holes, where clumps of tiling and plaster had given way, and the floor was splattered with all manner of stains; most of which Nyxie prefered not to think about.

“They tell me we won the war,” Draper, a balding man with a face that was hard to look at, grumbled from behind the bar “but here I am, surrounded by Wops, Japs, Gypos, and fucking vampires.”

“Must be the friendly service that’s drawing them in,” Nyxie smirked “or the interior decorating.”

“Up yours, Faerie,” the old man huffed “you gonna buy something, or flutter off and scoop up some kiddies?”

“Not enough room in that shit-hole apartment you’ve got me living in. Might as well have something to drink before I fly back to my toadstool, though,” The Faerie reasoned “Know how to make a Negroni?”

“Does this look like the fuckin’ Imperius to you?” Draper scowled.

“In Baal’raz’s name...I’ll just have a bloody rum, then.”

Not long after, Nyxie was sitting in front of the bar, taking small, self-pitying sips from a grubby glass full of what just about qualified as rum.

Tastes like it was made in a fucking bathtub.

Suddenly, the door to the saloon flung open.

A man, crooked and sunken, came stumbling inside, moving with the jagged, unbalanced movements of a marionette that had a drunkard pulling at its strings. Each ragged breath which slipped through his lips seemed to pain him more than the last, and he clutched and fumbled at a dark red stain on his side, which had soaked through his dress shirt and the jacket he wore on top of it.

“Just what I fucking need…” Draper muttered.

“P-please, somebody,” the man wheezed “get me a fucking drink.”

“What will it be?” Draper asked.

The man gazed up at the barkeeper, his forehead soaked with sweat, and his chest soaked with blood.

“Do I look like I give a damn..?” he hissed.

Draper poured him a glass of gin.

The man reached into his jacket pocket, slamming a clump of bloodied and scrunched up bank notes down on the counter.

Nyxie pulled out a carton of Old Golds, offering one to the newcomer with a wordless nod of her head.

“Cheers.” He wheezed, smiling through gritted teeth as he yanked a cigarette free, then lit it by striking a match on the counter.

“You should get that seen to, friend.” Nyxvira laughed nervously, gesturing to the bloody hole in the man’s side.

“I don’t do hospitals,” he said, coughing slightly as he took back a lungful of smoke “and ain’t goin’ anywhere near a mob clinic.”

“You’re gonna be a corpse real soon if you don’t, hun.” Nyxie pouted.

“Who ever wanted to live for ever?” The man replied.

Shrugging her broad shoulders, Nyxie placed an Old Gold between her lips. She cracked her fingers together, and a hiss of bright green flame burst forth from her thumb.

“No magic!” Draper snarled.

The Faerie ignored him, using the flickering wisp of Fae Fire to light her cigarette.

The man turned to her, with a wild look in his eyes.

“Do you think you could..?”

Nyxie sighed.

“Lift up your shirt.”

“Woah, hold on, now!” Draper exclaimed.

The newcomer did as he was told, exposing a deep red gash which was spitting out fat droplets of gore. Sickly red tendrils of flesh ran across the hole like some sort of grizzly cobweb, and small spikes of gunpowder-soaked metal poked out from beneath his skin. The stench of blood wafted up into the Faerie’s nostrils.

“Fuckin’ hell…” The Barkeeper muttered.

“This will sting.” Nyxie promised.

She extended her hand, placing it against the open wound, and as she did so the air around her fingertips began to crackle. In a sudden hiss, her hand became engulfed in a blanket of writhing green flame, searing into the man’s flesh and fusing the bloody crater shut.

“JESUS TITY FUCKING CHRIST!” The man wailed, shaking like crazy, whilst every cell in his body went into spasms of searing torment.

It was over in a flash, and soon there was only a blackened smear where the wound had been, weeping thread-like trails of white smoke.

The room stank of burned flesh.

“Put your shirt down, now.” Nyxie said with a smirk.

“Thanks, miss…” The man stammered, very much out of breath.

“You can thank me in two ways,” Nyxvira said firmly “First, you’re gonna buy me a drink, then you’re gonna tell me why folks are trying to put holes in you.”

“What’s it to you?” The man asked cautiously.

“Sweetheart, I just patched you up,” Nyxie frowned “it would be a real shame if I had to spoil my handiwork by putting my fag out in your eye.”

“Heh, I do like a bit of moxie in a dame.” the man said with a smirk.

“We’re talking business.” Nyxie growled.

“Alright, don’t bite my dick off.” the man recoiled slightly “I’m in some deep shit with the-”

BANG!

A bullet caught the man in the neck, ripping straight through him, and raining blood on to the counter. His corpse went limp, tumbling down from his stool and hitting the ground. Blood pooled out of him, spreading across the floor in a tide of dark red.

Draper was down in an instant, yelping like a frightened child as he made a frantic dive for the ground.

“The man has something of great value to my employer.” A heavily accented Chinese man called out, emerging from the shadows with the barrel of his revolver still smoking. He was dressed in a smart black suit. Far too smart for this part of town.

“You would be wise not to intervene in his business.” He added, cautiously making his way towards the bloody corpse.

Nyxie placed one hand in her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the stock of her Walther P38.

“I never was very smart.” Nyxvira Bloodbloom said, before she shot Wei Jun in the chest, and set in motion a series of events that would change her life forever.

Luff walked down the sidewalk of one of the more prominent streets in the Deadlight Hills. He moved slowly, without care, as though the hot sun had enervated any ambition of efficiency in the ogre. The concrete of the sidewalk radiated a heat that warmed his feet through his brown loafers. Tan linen pants and a white shirt of the same material, open at the throat perhaps one button too many, maximized airflow about his body and yet he was still beginning to sweat. He would much rather have been relaxing in the back room of his shop, planning and scheming.

But appearances were necessary, the charade had to be maintained. As he walked through the district delivering weekly orders wrapped in brown paper he thought of the mundanity of it all. Luff the butcher. Of animals only, mind you, rather than gang members. There was a peculiar sereneness to a life devoid of crime and intrigue. Could a life like that truly be enjoyable? Luff amused himself at the idea of his butchery becoming more successful than his more furtive enterprises.

It was this train of thought that was broken as he knocked on the door of his final stop for the afternoon. Ms. Laschain answered the door with a sweet smile on her face.

“Oh Luff, how nice to see you. Punctual as ever!”

“I would never dare run late on my favorite customer Ms. Laschain,”

The pleasantries continued back and forth before, as they were winding down she said,

“Oh, and did you hear about that dreadful business with the Italian boy? Strung up from a light post! And,” she paused to glance around. “They say it was the Hanged Men who did it!”

Luff’s mind kicked into high gear immediately. He responded with some more cursory small talk before ending the conversation. Serenity be damned he had some planning to do.

As he turned to begin his walk home a young boy with an ear for mischief approached him flashing the appropriate hand signs. Luff responded appropriately and the boy walked up.

“How goes it Luff?”

“As well as it can in this damned heat. What is it?”

“Well, earlier this morning a gnoll attempted to sell me some product,”

“And?” Luff’s brow narrowed.

The orphans that Luff looked after were permitted to come and go as they pleased. For bringing Luff information, and he was very lenient about what qualified as information, he gave them food, clothes, whatever they needed. His only rule was no drugs. Even just once and you were out for good.

“Well I didn’t take any, obviously! Full stomach is worth a hazy head any day.”

“Wise, boy. So other than a braggadocious reminder that you’re still drug free, why is this significant?”

“Well, uh, the dealer mentioned his boss was looking to make talk with an ogre. An ogre who’s in some pretty shady stuff. Secretive stuff. Of course I don’t know any ogres like that but, uh, I thought you might.”

Luff’s frown deepened even more before he turned his gaze to the boy. Softening his face, he said, “Good work. Come on by the shop tonight we’ll see that you don’t go to bed hungry,”

The orphan’s eyes lit up at that before running off. This was very serious indeed. The news of the Hanged Men being even bolder, a move on the Italians, no less, meant that Luff had some serious qualms about involving any of the orphans in this business too deeply. Plus there was the rumor that the vampires had endorsed the Hanged Men. This was troubling. Very troubling.

That name, though. Luff had the name of that high ranking member of the Hanged Men. Maybe one or two ranks away from Judas himself. That name would be very valuable if whispered in the right ear. The problem lay in getting someone close enough to the right ear. Luff’s mind spun excitedly. Once back in the cool respite of his shop he could devise a plan.

They attacked at night. Three of them, two small and nervous with their leader lacking any scent of fear about him. Clothed in tattered blacks and browns they looked homeless. In fact, they were homeless. The Hunters all were.

Luff had been in bed no more than an hour when he heard a noise in the dark. It was not the terse knocking the Jews had employed, no this was no knock at all. At the sound of the door shattering away from its hinges Luff was instantly awake. Wearing nothing but underclothes, he grabbed a cleaver from the nightstand and the sawed off shotgun from under his bed. Padding softly into the cold of his back room, he smelled the intruders before he saw them.

An odor of unbathed human stench and greasy dog fur wafted towards him. The cold sharpened his senses further, though this had the adverse effect of making their smell even more repugnant.

“You’re in the wrong shop pups,” Luff called out. Their shapes coming into vision between the hanging slabs of meat,”

“They won’t be able to find the owner after tonight, I think. Just think of us as squatters,” a gruff voice rang out.

“What are you doing here? I’ve no business with Hunters. Never have,”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken ogre. Word on the street is some Militia boys got torn to shreds by some Hunters. But we never did that hit, see. And my two boys here saw you leaving that house with a dog in tow. So my question for you is, who the hell are you trying to wear our face?”

Luff’s face turned hard. He could see all three of them now. They were still human for the time being. That was a relief. The man in the center had a crazy mane of shaggy hair and stood a full foot taller than the two fidgety boys that stood next to him. The name pup was right. These boys couldn’t have been more than 16. That saddened Luff, but it didn’t make what had to happen next any less necessary.

“If I wanted to wear your face, I’d cut it off and attach the straps myself, I want no part in this. Get gone or there’ll be dog in the meat grinder come morning,” At that, one of the young werewolves gaped with a mixture of shock and fear, beginning to involuntarily transform. Luff responded immediately.

Looking mighty foolish in his underclothes, he hurled the cleaver in his right hand while bringing the shotgun in his left to bear on the other youngster. The cleaver sunk into the skull of the half-wearwolf half-man teenager with a wet thunk. With a flash the Winchester model 12 roared to life with fire and fury. The right half of the other teenager’s face disappeared behind a cloud of gore. Alchemy of the bloodiest kind.

This was all well and good, of course, but now Luff was weaponless with a fully grown alpha werewolf charging him with eyes full of bloodlust. Luff dropped into a lower stance, one that he had often tried, and failed for that matter, to use when wrestling his older and fully sized brothers. He caught the werewolf’s charge solidly at first. His left forearm found its way under the jaws of the wolfman and with his right he grabbed the beast right in the fruits. Using the werewolf’s momentum against it, Luff lifted the beast over his head and threw him against the wall. The whole building seemed to shake at the impact though, to Luff’s dismay, the beast seemed unharmed and was already leaping at him again.

Luff wasn’t as ready to catch the beast this time and found himself on his back staring up at 500 pounds of shaggy, furry hate. The werewolf’s teeth were the length of a man’s little finger. Its breath was terrible, something between rotting meat and the sickly smell of wet. Though Luff was able to establish a guard between him and the beast, it would not hold as his assailant roiled and snapped trying to break through and shred his throat.

Just as Luff thought the creature was about to slip through his guard, The smooth edge of an iron meat hook exploded through the back of the werewolf’s head and protruded from its mouth like a vicious metal tongue. In surprise, Luff shouted and shoved the beast off of him. When he got to his feet a small dark elf girl with flowing white dreadlocks stood before him, blood splattered on her face and arms.

“Well that was a right fool thing you just did Del. I figured you’d be off having a nice life somewhere. Fending for yourself and all that,”

“It’s fine, don’t thank me or anything. I’m surprised you even remembered my name you old elephant” She snarled at him but upon seeing his grin her countenance lightened.

“For what it’s worth, thanks. Though your skin is gray just like mine so who are you calling elephant?,”

“Yeah whatever old man. We may both be gray but you’re wrinkled as shit. Me? I got skin tighter than a fresh whore,” she crinkled her nose at her own bad joke. “just go put some clothes on,”

Luff looked down and chuckled to himself. He did look quite foolish wearing just his underclothes next to the young dark elf woman who was fully clothed in jeans, a tight white shirt and combat boots. He collected his cleaver and gun before walking back to his room. A few minutes later he returned with his standard linen pants and shirt.

“Now,” he said, “are you hungry?”

“I could eat,”

“Well I was just getting ready to make some sausage. It’s quite delicious but I can’t promise there won’t be any dog thrown in,” he grinned wickedly at her

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll just have whatever you feed those orphans you keep around,”

“Ah, so you have been watching me,” Luff mused as he beckoned Del follow him into the parlor attached to the front of the shop.

“Ain’t never heard somebody buying a whore just so she could stop whoring. Got me pretty curious about what kind of ogre you are. So, yeah, I’ve been following you for a bit. It seemed to work out in your favor given how you’re not dead right now.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining Del. Not complaining at all. I was just never able to spot you while you were following me. And that has got me pretty curious. Pretty curious indeed. Well anyway, here, eat,” Luff laid out a basic meal of cured meats with some cheese and wine.

Del ate with gusto and before long any signs that there had been food on the table had vanished save the plates and glasses. She sucked her teeth contently and looked directly at his one functioning eye.

“So. I want in. The thing you got with the orphans, I can do that. Sure as hell beats whoring and lets me eat til I’m full,”

“Is that so?” It was Luff’s turn to suck his teeth, “I’m not sure you’d be a very good fit,”

“Why the fuck not?” she glared at him. “I can do any job better than some dirty human kid,”

“You’re loud,” Luff whispered, “Though I’m impressed with your ability to avoid my detection, I don’t see the makings of a good eye or ear in you.”

“Scre-”

“However,” he cut her off. “I see something else entirely. Something more suited to a person of your..talents.”

“And what’s that? We already know I’m shitty at whoring,”

“I see you as more of a hand, Del,” Luff smiled knowingly before taking a breath, “Have you ever heard of the Anansi?”

“So you’re some kind of super secret information broker and a hitman and a butcher? You’re overworked! That explains all the wrinkles, at least,” she grinned at him. Genuinely.

Luff rolled his eyes, “Yes and with the city becoming less and less safe I can’t risk the lives of the boys anymore. I need someone who I know can handle themselves and who will maintain my presence in the city. I’ve got big plans for my place in Santa Somabra and I think those plans will be greatly benefited by you,”

“Well, do I have a choice? If the identity of the Anansi is as closely guarded a secret as you make it out to be, that is to say only you, me, and a dozen orphan boys know, then if I refuse I’ll probably die, huh?”

Luff opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off, “I’m just kidding. Of course I’m in!” Luff smiled at that. Genuinely

“Well get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll give you some money to gear up. Tomorrow night your appearance has been requested. Some gnoll drug dealer has been asking around.

“You’re sure about this one Jack?” Pip asked nervously.

The odd couple were sitting at the bus stop across the street from the Santa Somabra City Hall and municipal building.

“Oh course I’m sure about it. What do we have to lose? Our lives?” Jack laughed to himself. “We aren’t going to make that much of a fuss we aren’t even going to go inside, just gonna’ put on a little show and then it’s BANG back to the hotel for bed.

“But, Jack it’s the city hall… There are coppers n’ such around.”

“Pip… “ Jack said, growing impatient with his fiendish companion, “I know they’re are ‘coppers n’ such’ around. I know it’s the city hall… It’s my plan, Pip. I already KNOW anything you could tell me.”

“Sorry, Jack” Pip squeaked.

“Listen Pip, just have fun out there all right. Let loose.”

“Got it, Jack.”

“Alright, showtime.” Jack said as he got up from his seat and walked forward, cradling in his hand the same tome he’d used back at the hotel.

——————

It was a quiet night around Town Hall, at least that’s what Officer Peneta` thought as he made his rounds around the old building. He had seen a disfigured man in a grey suit and a woman dressed as a maid walking together earlier, but the couple was one of the least strange he’d ever seen so he thought nothing of it.

As he returned to the front entrance of the building he noticed someone drawing with chalk on the brickwork promenade. Hoodlums had defaced it before, writing sexual comments about various city political figures. Grabbing his flashlight and turning it on, Officer Peneta` moved to shoo whoever it was off, there shouldn’t be a need for anything more than that. That was the last thought Officer Penata` had before he looked down to see a black obsidian dagger piercing through his chest cavity.

——————

“Okay Pip, just set the good officer’s body down in the center of the circle and we’ll get started. The more attention we draw the better it should get.”

“What do ya’ mean, Jack?” Pip asked quizzically.

“Well Pip, we’re not going actually summon a fear demon, because well that would suck for everyone. No we’re going to summon a ‘visage’ if you will of fear. A sort of distortion of reality that will make people think they’re seeing something terrifying, when really there isn’t anything here except some bright lights and smoke.”

“Ah, very clever.” Pip nodded.

“I know it’s clever, Pip. It’s my idea.” Jack said flatly before standing above the Officer’s body and pulling out a small leather sack. He reached inside and pulled from it a pair of human eyes, the heart of an elf, and a few dead mice. Tossing them lazily onto the officer’s body he cleared his throat, “Noli timere, korak mar timul yrzingkt rah sheobahkt!”

There wasn’t a bang or a boom or some grand seismic shake, but simply a pop as the chalk drawn lines of McDonough's mystic handiwork began to change color and glow. After a few brief moments a thick purple fog began to roll into the area.

McDonough paced up and down the promenade while Pip sat on a nearby bench, chewing on a couple knuckles he’d brought with him from the hotel. The two waited patiently for the first fog to thicken before moving off to find a better vantage point.

——————

Officers Lowell and Morris were the first ones to see it as they exited the municipal building, it was huge. A giant octopus like creature clung to the side of an apartment building across the street, around it lay the bodies of some of their colleagues. The shooting began shortly their after with Lowell and Morris aiming at the individual limbs of the creature, however their shots seemed to have no effect.

——————

Susan Crawford awoke to the sound of gunfire, normally this wouldn’t be so abnormal in a city like Santa Somabra, but this time the gunfire was coming from right outside her apartment. There was a crash as the bedroom windows shattered, the sounds of bullets whizzing past her. She hit the floor and crawled to the phone line in the kitchen. Pulling the telephone to her ear she dialed 911 on the rotary. She raised herself in a semi-crouched position in an attempt to see out the window. What she saw terrified her, a fiendish looking creature with red eyes and dark blue skin. He was larger than an ogre and four times as ugly. It was firing what looked like an automatic weapon, killing innocent people on the streets.

——————

Hector Servantes` was driving his pickup truck headed home after working a nine hour shift as the waste disposal plant when he passed by city hall. He slammed on the breaks as he saw a young woman crawling her way across the street as she bled helplessly. He turned his head and a saw a group of what appeared to be undead men and women ripping to shreds the bodies of anyone unfortunate enough to walk by.

Hector kept a shotgun in the back of his truck and it wasn’t long before he rushed to grab it. Training it on a group of the undead, he began to fire. Overcome with fear and a sense of violence, Hector shot as many as he could, but their numbers never seemed to thin.

———————-

“I wonder what they’re all seeing” McDonough said as he watched from the rooftop of a nearby office building.

“Seems the coppers are here now, I bet you they start shootin` each other soon enough.” Pip said leaving against the half-wall ledge of the rooftop. “Think I can get one of their bodies, leave this handmaid body behind?”

“Why not?” McDonough said walking off towards the fire escape. “Spoils of war and all that.” He paused at the top of the fire escape as he heard a woman’s scream from the direction of city hall. “I’m going to head back. It’s been a late night. You stay here and enjoy the show.”

McDonough descended the fire escape calmly and when he finally reached the bottom, he couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t want to smile, but he did, something inside him tried to fight against it, but he was happy. As he walked down the alley he began to whistle an ominous tune.

“Jesus -FUCKING- Christ, Nyxie!” Draper stood frozen in place behind the bar, his mouth hanging open “You can’t just waltz in here and start blasting chinks!”

“It was self-defense.” Nyxvira said in the least convincing tone ever conceived, as she bent down and began to rummage through the corpse that Wei Jun had shot through the neck.

“What on God’s green earth are you doin’, girl?” Draper squawked, his face flushing bright red.

“Looking for whatever this fine gentleman got shot over.” Nyxvira explained, sticking her hand in every pocket she could find.

“Gods and demons…” the barkeeper muttered “You trying to put a target on your head, or somethin’?”

“Trying to get out of this shit hole.” She replied, slipping one plump hand into the corpse’s jacket.

“Fucking limey…” Draper said with a groan.

“Aha! Nyxie shot up a few moments later, her hand clutching a small clump of scrunched up paper.

“Oh, that was totally worth shooting someone over.” The barman scowled.

Nyxie unfolded the note, her glimmering gold eyes darting over the words that were sketched on it.

12
Majesty’s Lane
Tranquil Valley

“I don’t want you comin’ round here no more, Bloodbloom!” Draper yelled shakily, his eyes darting frantically back and forth, and his forehead damp with sweat. “You’re bad news. Pack up your shit, and get the fuck out of here.”

“Works for me.” Nyxie mumbled, gazing down at the piece of paper which she clutched in her hands.

---

The cab slowly pulled up outside of Majesty’s Lane, stopping in front of a stoic house of columns and gleaming white brick.

Nyxvira handed the cabbie his cash, before hopping out of the taxi, her scavenged note resting in her jacket pocket. She held a suitcase in one hand, stuffed full of what few possessions she had left.

The Faerie made her way down to the twelfth house, the wheels of her suitcase grinding against the hard stone sidewalk. The house had a great big door, painted bright crimson, with a golden twelve placed at its centre.

No sooner had Nyxvira approached the door, then it cracked cautiously open, revealing a stern-faced Chinese man standing in the doorway, his finer features obscured by the veil of shadows which fell down upon him.

“You are not Wei Jun.” The man snarled, fixing Nyxie with a hard stare. Without having to check, the Faerie was almost certain the doorman had some kind of weapon on him.

Play this one carefully, dumb-fuck she scolded herself. You won’t get a second chance.

“There was a complication.” Nyxie said, as calmly as she could manage “Old Feng sent me, instead.”

“We don’t use Faeries.” The doorman said with a scowl.

“That’s exactly why he sent me.” Nyxie shot back.

The doorman paused for a long while, never taking his eyes off of Nyxvira.

“I find out you not supposed to be here; you die.” He said firmly, as he moved slowly backwards out of the doorway.

Thank fuck. Nyxie breathed an inward sigh of relief.

The Faerie made her way inside of the house, resting her suitcase against an umbrella stand. The house was as ritzy and well-furnished as one might expect of a place in Tranquil Valley. A staircase of polished marble led to the second floor, exquisite oil paintings hung on the wall, and a chandelier made from twinkling glass shards was suspended from the ceiling.

Sure beats Draper's.

“Tao Yin will want talk to you.” Said the doorman.

Now that he was out of the shadows, Nyxie could better make out the man, who wore a dark suit of a similar cut to Wei Jun.

The doorman led Nyxie down the font corridor, passed the marble staircase, and into a well furnished kitchen, with a tiled floor and blue painted cabinets.

Sitting at the kitchen table was a man with bronze skin, slender eyes, and a face like a withered skull.

“It always amazes me that American women can be so fat,” the man said, as he gave Nyxie the once over, the tug of a smile playing at the corner of his dark lips “is exercise a foreign concept here?”

“I’m english.” Nyxvira said plainly, trying her best not to flinch.

“You’re no better than negros,” Tao Yin frowned “Yet Old Feng would have me deal with you, all the same.”

Tao Yin sighed, before casting a glance over to the doorman.

“Líkāi wǒ.” He called over to him. The doorman bowed his head, and quickly left the two to their discussion.

“I do not trust you, englishwoman.” Tao Yin declared “The Hanged Men and the Italians are on the hunt, and every day they draw closer and closer to finding me. I prefer to treat with those of my own race, but it seems in this instance I have no alternative.”

“What do you want from me?” Nyxie asked calmly.

“Wei Jen was tasked with getting me safe passage out of Santa Somabra, but it seems he has become incapacitated. Complete the task that was assigned to him, and Old Feng will compensate you for your troubles.”

Nyxie shrugged her big shoulders.

“Consider it done.”

---

Ralph Cisteronni was sitting behind his desk when he got the call from Nyxvira Bloodbloom, his suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and his sleeves rolled up around his arms.

“I’m a busy man, Miss Bloodbloom,” Cisteronni grumbled down the phone “this had better be worth my time.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be interested in what I’m selling.” The Faerie’s voice crackled down the phone line.

“I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” he smirked “what are you selling exactly?”

Cisteronni could hear the grin in Nyxvira’s voice when she spoke.

“I heard you guys are looking for one Tao Yin.”

The shadowy figured continued to pass quickly down the sidewalk, the collar of his lengthy grey coat and Stetson pulled low partially served to obscure the clearly not human features that dominated his appearance upon passing. Of course if anyone took a second look or spent more than a brief moment examining the figure’s appearance it’d be more than obvious that there was a Gnoll walking down the street. Fix had learnt to keep his eyes low and avoid flashing strangers with what he had always considered a charming and friendly smile – to the eyes of most humans (and indeed most other races) it often came off as a sinister and even threatening action that never failed to rouse panic about what someone like him could be doing where he wasn’t welcome.

As if to cement his views a young woman passing beside him let out a soft shriek of surprise and what seemed to be a generous helping of disgust as she tripled her pace and moved to cross the street to avoid him. A short way ahead a pair of beat-cops fixed their eyes on him and with a few words to each other moved to intercept him, their hands already resting on their sidearms as they did. Fix swore under his breath and removed his hands from his pockets whilst attempting to look as none threatening as possible at the same time, a gesture that did little to change the demeanours of the approaching officers.

“Evening officers” he chirped again trying to remove any trace of hostility or aggression from his tone.

“What you doing here Gnoll?” coldly asked the first and older of the pair, his face dominated by a large brown moustache “Your kind should stick to that shithole and stop scaring the polite and respectable folks around here where you’re not wanted.” The man’s face was hard and marked with pocks and deep lines that showed his age.

“Now officer…” began Fix having to fight back an urge of anger that rippled through him. “I’m here to see some friends of mine, civilized folks like yourself”.

He could tell they didn’t believe him.

“I suppose” he said with a faked grimace “that you don’t want my cash here either then?”

Both officers’ faces lit up in an instant. This was how things really worked no matter where abouts in the city you were. Only difference was you could bribe a Narrows beatcop with about ten bucks if you were lucky, these schmucks would undoubtedly cost a little more.

“We din say that” squeaked in the younger lanky cop, suddenly his sidearm forgotten as he started to eye Fix up and down as he tried to estimate if the Gnoll would be good on his word or not. The older man seemed to glare at him even more, if somehow upset that the Gnoll would have enough cash to bribe him.

"In fact I'm just on my way to see Eddie Martovanni" Fix added, meeting the glare with an unwavering defiance - if only for a few moments. What he had said had the desired effect, the officers looking at each other and panic being discernible on their faces. "Oh don't worry if you're already on the take from them boys, I won't consider this anything worth mentioning" Fix said with a chuckle "Plus I'd feel much better knowing I'd contributed to the salary of a pair of upstanding policemen like yourselves".

With that Fix pulled out his tatty leather wallet and pulled out a pair of crisp one hundred dollar bills and held them up as he again met the gaze of the older officer, again silently daring him to reject his offer or demand more from him. After all they'd only stopped him to talk and he actually had very little contraband on his person... well, aside from his personal gear - so actually quite a bit the more he considered it. The older officer snatched the bills away and with another sour look practically spat "Get the fuck on with it then, Gnoll".

Fix tipped his hat briefly and without further a word continued along his way, aware that the pair's eyes drilled into his back the whole time, resisting the wave of comebacks that had been swimming through his head and other offensive comments he'd longed to share with them. Though he was far from a feral animal the desire to clamp the old prick's neck in his jaws and squeeze had been rather strong and again he made note of how easy it would have been to descend and act like... well like a fucking Gnoll he supposed.



Twenty minutes later Fix was sat inside a little place, a cafe named 'Caffé Stregathat' which sat nestled nicely deep in the Italians territory along the edge of Dawn Peak Heights and Palassa's Song districts, sipping what he considered to be a god-awful cup of coffee that was ridiculously small, though it seemed to carry quite a kick to it. It was obvious that everyone was giving him a wide berth as he sat and waited for whichever of the Italians would actually be coming to meet him, but as always it seemed they were content to fuck him around and make him wait. A good twenty minutes after he'd finished his drink a rather ape-faced man came across emerging from a rear doorway and gestured for the Gnoll to accompany him without speaking. Stubbing out his just lit cigarette Fix did so with again a glance around at the few patrons that were watching him. He shot a wink at a particularly beautiful blonde woman who returned a look of utter disgust and loathing at him, which again just caused the Gnoll to smirk as he disappeared into the backroom with the muscled ape. The doorway soon lead to a rather narrow and steep staircase which they ascended in silence before it emerged into a fairly large room with its own bar and rather lavish decor and furniture, probably a remnant of the prohibition era Fix mused as he casually glanced around.

Sat across from him surrounded by four goons was Eddie Martovanni, the young Italian sat with an expression as cold as ice as he sipped from a tall glass of something with his other hand laid on the table beside a colt semi-auto. Fix halted in his tracks and looked back at his 'escort' who was now positioned between him and what looked to be the only exit and seemed to be glaring at him as if daring him to try anything and give him an excuse. Not only had Fix not actually expected to be seen by one of the family members, but he too hadn't really thought he'd be finding himself in such a potentially hostile situation so soon, and not without any provocation on his side to boot.

"Eddie, buddy, baby! Long-time no see" chirped Fix with false enthusiasm as he made to move forwards and take a seat at the table with him. As he did two of the thugs made a move as if to stop him, but with a simple had gesture from the seated man they stopped and so the Gnoll continued.

"Oh that is impressive" teased Fix as he eyed them up discounting that there would realistically be anyway he could come off the victor from any kind of violent confrontation "You know I got my guys able to lick their stones on command, but I guess this lot would lack the flexibility though - huh". Silence and deeper glares were the only responses he received for a few moments, damned Italians never laughed at anything.

"Fimion" began Eddie softly, though his tone and volume grew as he continued to speak "you know I don't fuckin like you, or that bunch of animals you call guys coming anywhere near me or the families, especially with no invitation. What the fuck you want?"

"Right to business as always" shot back the Gnoll ignoring his displeasure at the use of his real name as he pulled the nearest chair out and sat at it before reaching into his jacket and pulled out a small but bulky package of something. Sitting it on the pristine table he pulled open one corner of it to reveal the thick stack of currency that lay within. "You know what I want Eddie, baby, what I've always wanted from you. Plus it’s harder to turn up with an invitation when you don't ever get invited. Well like you said last time, 'fuck off until you can pay us up front'. Well I can pay now and after what I hear has been going on between you and the necro fucks your boys on the street might have some targets on their backs, and holes in their dead asses. Us however always been dealing in the shadows, will keep dealing in the shadows, and we're pretty damn good at it too. The Narrows gets it, how else we managing to undercut the Rats and still do our business without clashing with em hmm? Got guys expanding into Old Gate, Deadlight Hills and Wyvern Rock – hell we’d be fully there already if we actually had someone professional supplying us regular like. Even without you we're coming along nice, and I'd like that to continue, cut you in on a bigger piece of the pie ya'know?"

The Italian remained silent throughout the conversation, listening with a flat expression the whole time. "All you gotta do" continued the Gnoll as he pulled out his own flask and took a drink "is send us your dust, send us your blood, send us your crack, your pills your sniff, your what-fucking-ever and we will sell it. I'll probably do a little of it too, but I'll pay for that as well." Fix laughed at his own joke, not that it was particularly a joke but he laughed anyway. "All we gotta do is be friends Eddie, I won't cheat on you, I'll treat you nice. You ever heard of ol' Fix going back on his word even once in this town?"

After a few moments silence the gangster gestured to one of the men beside him who picked up the wad of cash and leafed through it before grunting "Ten g boss" and handed it to him. Eddie Martovanni looked at the money in his hands, at the Gnoll before him and then worryingly at the gun beside his hand and then sighed sounding a little disappointed. He stood suddenly and barked "Fine, we'll be in touch to arrange something. We'll work the details out then." He gestured to the man behind Fix, which the Gnoll assumed meant he should go. Unfortunately he was wrong. Moments later the big beefy ape-fist made contact with the side of his face and the world around him flashed brightly for a few moments before it then all went black as he hit the ground and heard very distantly the voice of Eddie Martovanni "Kick the shit outta him just a little, that grifter best learn respect or to keep his trap shut next time he talks to me" before he felt several large boots making contact with his body and everything rapidly faded to darkness as pain started to shoot through him.



Silence, overwhelming and deafening it was broken only by the very distant and occasional dripping of water that echoed down the countless passages and tunnels. Fix continued padding down the dark shadowy corridor lit only by the flickering of the oil lantern he carried in one hand, casting dancing shadows that fled as he approached. Above him who knows how much earth stood between his location and Santa Somabra, the tunnels he had been moving down for a few minutes lead from the basement of his warehouse and down into the ground. He'd always figured the tunnels were used during prohibition, seeing how they eventually connected to the sewers as well as other similarly built passages that lead to so many locations throughout the city he doubted anyone knew where every single one of them lead. He'd once made the mistake of wandering into them and had spent days lost and avoiding the more sinister denizens that lived there before finally coming out in the basement of an apartment in The Silver Expanse.

He emerged into a large room, the air filled with the deep musky scent that lingered ever since it had been used to brew some kind of potent hooch (as evidenced by the remaining makeshift stills that lined one side of the room). Sat in the room were a number of items, a collection of everything Fix had ever wanted to keep hidden or secret, including most importantly two large safes filled with cash and another half filled with narcotics.

Fix paused and winced as he reached up and pressed against the sore and tender area around his left eye which was somewhat swollen and bloodshot, a dark shiner being visible even with the coat of fur that covered him. He limped and suspected that he may even have a cracked rib or two. But whatever, it wasn't important right now. Let those guinea pricks have their fun whilst they could. His only regret was that one of them had taken his flask, which was by far one of his favourite things in the whole world despite its relatively mundane and easy to replace nature. Still mumbling curses and threats under his breath the Gnoll continued into the room and over the space of the next few minutes he had removed another five grand from his savings (which were rapidly becoming far to light for his liking) and now sat on the floor in front of the safe filled with narcotics as he struggled internally with what to do. It took only a few moments before he gave in and grabbed several small packages and vials before he shoved each of them into his jacket, pausing on the last vial of demon's blood and grabbing that too. The safe was now emptier than it had been in quite some time, though he was happy that if he put up with the Italians for even a little while it would soon be fuller than it had ever been. He took a few more moments to slip the little crimson vial into the small leather case alongside the vials of runez he had also recovered with a disassembled syringe beside it, fastening the case and then slipping it into his jacket with the rest of his goodies patting it for good measure.

He stood and closed both safes quickly before he made his way over to an old mouldy table and within five minutes he had opened one of the two packages of fairy dust he had grabbed and set up three neat little lines using his pinkie claw with practised precision. Moments later he had rolled up a bank note and went about reducing the lines to nothing as he indulged himself generously, suddenly feeling the anger he felt towards every single Italian in Santa Somabra fade away and replace itself with a sensation that made him feel like he was king of the world and it was his birthday.



Fix was sprawled in his chair, feet up on the desk once more as his mind swam with pleasure and he truly felt relaxed. He for what must have been the hundredth time picked up the small shard of mirror and looked at his face, obsessing over the bruise that dominated his eye and making sure there was nothing else at all that would mark him. 'It will heal' he told himself again, gazing for a few more minutes before he burst out "Fucking Italians are lucky they didn't do any permanent damage" glancing at Dom who was likewise intoxicated and sat on the edge of the table that had before been covered with drugs.

The Gnoll laughed and continued to smoke the huge joint that he was nursing before he giggled "You're still prettier than the whole crew combined, chill-out boss".

Fix glanced over at him again as he looked up from his own reflection, suppressing the urge to hurl something at him before he flatly retorted "Well that isn't hard Dominic. Don't forget that taking our money and kicking seven shades of shit outta me isn't the most promising start to our deeper relationship with them. We'll just see if that first delivery comes through like that stale egg Martovanni promised before I decide if it was worth it or not. You ugly bastards just all best keep your heads on until then and prey we see our monies worth".

At that moment there was a flickering as the lights that lit the warehouse failed and plunged them into darkness, each of them as good as blind in the pitch black whilst their eyes started to adjust slowly. "What the hell?" spat Fix as the sounds of movement also reached his ears before a split second later the lights returned and once more bathed the room in artificial light. Stood now at the opposite side of the room was a heavily cloaked figure wearing one of the most bizarre masks Fix had seen, one of those old-world plague doctor masks with the long noses with white dreads spilling from behind it.

"Who the fuck?" shouted Dom loudly as Fix suddenly jumped to his feet and pulled out the s&w model 27 he'd been nursing earlier, wishing he'd had the opportunity to put a round through Eddie's face in return for his new if not temporary look. The haze that moments ago had dominated the Gnoll's mind dissipated in an instant as he took a few brief moments to clear his head and focus on the situation at hand - again one of his true talents as far as he was concerned as adrenaline flooded his system somewhat and his heart pounded in his chest.

He pointed the revolver squarely at the chest of the newcomer before he barked "You best have a damn good reason for being here" whilst simultaneously wondering how they fuck they'd managed to get in and mess with the lights.

"You're the one who's been looking for us, furball. What business do you have with the Anansi?" responded the stranger who showed no fear at staring down the end of a loaded gun.

Somewhat begrudgingly, with a quick glance back at Dom to make sure that he was ready for whatever might happen, Fix lowered the revolver but kept it clutched in his hand as he thought for a few moments. "Anansi eh?" wondered Fix, marvelling at just how quickly they'd been found and the rather ballsy entrance, before against his better judgment he once more stowed the revolver on his person and into the concealed holster against his chest - after all he knew it was more than impolite to invite someone over and then point a gun at them, no matter how unorthodox their entrance may have been.

Dom stood like a rather useless decoration as he stared at the figure clearly at a loss of what to do or what to say in the situation. Fix laughed and gestured at him before admitting "Well, Dom there is speechless which is a first. If he stays like that you can come around here as much as you want - but just maybe use the door next time".

"This isn't a social call Fix. I'm here for business." Del stepped forwards from the shadows and strode to the centre of the room, her hand resting on the hilt of her long steel.

Fix had sat himself back at his desk and gestured for the stranger to take up position wherever she wanted amongst the tabletops, clutter and general lack of space that was the warehouse. "Oh don't mind the mess" fix commented "the maids on vacation right now". His eyes flicked to Dom who normally would have sniggered, but the Gnoll's bloodshot eyes were still fixed on the hooded figure and so he simply rolled his eyes (with a wince as he strained the bruised one) and instead busied himself for a few moments pulling out a pair of only slightly grimy china mugs from the lower draw of the desk.

"Tea? Coffee?" he offered as he then pulled out a bottle of scotch and removed the cork and without waiting for an answered poured two generous helpings and thrust one of the mugs towards her.

"Save the hospitality. I still haven't decided if we're in business. And there's still the matter of you attempting to sell to our kids. That will stop, regardless of whatever agreement we come to this evening. Am I clear?"

Fix considered the words for a few moments before he simply shrugged and nodded, if that was a cost of business then it'd be easy enough to accommodate, not like the younger homeless kids ever really had the money or the desire to indulge. Listening to the figure he realised that whoever was hidden under that mask and cloak was female, not that it mattered to him but it was interesting non-the-less as he sat the second mug next to his own.

"Sure" agreed Fix honestly "Keep the urchins clean upstanding citizens, I got it.” He didn’t understand why, nor did he particularly want to. Seemed to him that such an exclusion was more of a punishment than anything else, but who was he to question the motives behind what the Anansi wanted or did.
“I gotta ask though, how’d you find me so quick? There ain’t a leak I gotta plug up is there? Big neon sign above the building I gotta turn off?”

Her response was simple if not displeasing to him "You aren't nearly as well liked among your kind as you'd like to think. It's surprising how much a few of your fellow Gnolls resent your ambition. Certainly enough to point me in the right direction. And I've never much liked doors. Far too predictable."

"Quite right" he admitted pushing the thoughts of his fellow Gnolls betraying him out of his mind for the moment "I wanted information of course, but I have to admit not so much specific information. Well, if you, er, the Anansi could tell me who took the Tongs Demon's Blood and how to get it back myself, that'd be great. But failing that I'd easily take any information on the hanged men or the Italians. I'm looking to step it up. Bigtime step it up, and I want drugs, all the drugs. The Anansi helps make that happen and he can name his... or her... price."

With that Fix whipped out the package that contained $5000 and waved it around casually before he added "That or get me in contact with a reliable and less aggressive source than the Italians and Eddie fuckin Martovanni and I'll do the same. Oh anything you can tell me about him too then sure, I'd love nothing more right now than to mess with his life as much as possible". Fix finally stopped speaking and took a long drink from his mug, emptying it on one gulp before snatching up and nursing the second mug.

Del took the package Fix was waving in the air and slipped into one of the many pockets of her cloak. "The Militia made off with the blood. $5000 will get you that. Though I hear those Militia bastards had a nasty run in with the Hunters. That last bit you can have for free," Del smiled under her mask as she looped another strand in the complex web of lies she knew Luff was weaving.

"If you’re looking to make a bigger name for yourself, we can help with that, too. You know the Hanged Men strung up that Italian, right? From what I hear, your relationship with the Italians had a rocky start at best. I can give you a name, a good name, of a Hanged Men snuff supplier to take to the Italians. That should help smooth out any complications in your relationship, right? All you have to do is convince me to sell it to you instead of to the Italians directly. I'll be back at the same time tomorrow night. You do not negotiate with the Anansi. If I like your offer tomorrow, the name is yours. If not, you'll never hear from us again."

Fix thought about it, the Worker’s Milita, the Hunters, it matched up with what he’d heard too. Not that he like’d paying to find out things he already heard but it at least reinforced what was going down out there. “I already heard that” responded Fix in regards to the shipment of blood “But keep the dough, call it a goodwill payment. I’d like that name and if it gets me closer to that then sure. I’ve sunk a fair amount of investment into my relationship with those Italian stooges and don’t feel good about the returns on it right now.”

"We can get you what you need Fix, as long as we like your price. Facilitating ambition is what we do best." She replied.

“Well I guess that the Anansi likes information, so yeah, come back tomorrow and hopefully I’ll have something else for you.” stated the Gnoll with a tone of finality “oh, and… I’m sure it doesn’t need sayin but you or your boss decide that you can sell our location to anyone, I assure you that ‘your kids’ getting strung out on my product will be the least of their worries. But I’m sure it won’t come to that, right?”

"A clever threat indeed but here is my promise. The Anansi is careful in selecting business partners for a reason. There is a steadfast loyalty you will come to enjoy should we choose to do business with us. However, should you ever give us cause to sell information on you, we won't. We'll just kill you."

“Oh” added Fix “I suppose then we both hope it won’t come to that and this turns into a beautiful relationship.” He added what he felt was an appropriate wink before he asked “What do I even call you then?”

"Call me Anansi, for I am his hand and prophet in this city. From my mouth, he speaks." She stated somewhat dramatically, ending their conversation.

"Let me show you to the front door, Anansi" Fix quickly blurted before the mysterious woman could once more mess with their lighting or some other equally showmanship filled method of departure, as he gestured towards the heavy bolted front door that the group themselves neglected to use in favour of the tunnels below. Once he was again alone with Dom he moved back to his desk, the cogs of his mind turning rapidly as he considered all that had just occurred.

Whoever Tao Yin was (or rather, had been) he was important to the Italians; so important that they’d set Nyxvira up with a ritzy little apartment in the Silver Expanse, complete with hot water and working electricity. Nyxie had consider tipping the Hanged Men off as well, in a mad gamble to double her profits, but it would bode very badly for her if either side found out she’d helped their rival, so she’d stuck with helping the Italians.

“You’ve got ya bathroom just off to the left there, and a bedroom past the kitchen,” Joshua Cavalio explained, as he led Nyxie into the apartment, hands stuffed into the pockets of his long brown coat “got yourself one of them nice fridges, with enough food to last you...however long.”

Nyxvira was only half listening to the Italian, all caught up in the modest splendour of her new living space. The apartment was well-lit, freshly painted, and done up with the sort of furniture that cost half the rent of her place back at Draper’s. The lack of blood and semen staining the floor was just icing on top of the already scrumptious cake.

“Your boss must have really hated that Tao Yin guy…” Nyxie murmured, gazing at her new home with wide eyes. It had been years since she’d left her ancestral grove, and she'd gotten used to far more humble surroundings.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Cavalio laughed dryly “speaking of which, there’s another job lined up; if you’re interested.”

“Honestly, I’m happy just enjoying a place where I outnumber the rats.” Nyxie said with a smirk and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Can’t say I blame you.” the Italian chuckled, laugh lines appearing on his otherwise smooth face.

“But, I’ll bite,” she decided “what’ve you got in mind?”

“One of the gents upstairs needs some small ,and easy to control, hands to help with a very delicate mission,” Cavalio explained “if the stories are true, we reckon you might be able to help us.”

Nyxvira pretended to be considering the proposal. A chance to hone her crafts, AND get paid for it in the process?!Fucking jackpot.

“I’ll need a car and some cash.” She declared.

“Its as good as yours.” Cavalio nodded.

---

The Italians had some kind of Mercedes-Benz lying around for one reason or another, which was what Nyxvira drove as she pulled up into the rocky driveway of the Saint Somabra Home For Wayward Young Girls. She killed the engine with the twist of a key, staring up at the red brick monstrosity which loomed above her, with its pale archways, and great white spires. Slit-like windows lined the building, making it look like a kind of medieval fortress, and some sort of biblical script was etched into the walls.

Nyxie popped the door open and climbed out onto the drive, her boot-clad feet crunching down on the stone-ridden earth. The walk to the Mother Superior’s office was a long one, through ripe green courtyards, and up winding stone staircases. She passed small haggles of uniform-clad girls, and darkly robed nuns, whilst an air of oppressive calm held the whole building in its grip.

The Mother Superior sat scribbling in a big leather-bound book, seated behind an oak desk with a record player scratching out some old timey record.



“Mother Superior.” Nyxie said simply.

“Child.” The old woman croaked, her face as withered and leathery as the book she wrote in.

“I’m here on behalf of-”

“I know why you’re here, child,” The nun cut her off with the wave of her hand “the same reason you were here last time.”

“Not exactly the same,” The Faerie reached into her jacket pocket, fishing out a fat wad of dollar bills, bound up in rubber bands “I’ve got a bit more cash this time.”

“Excellent,” The old woman grinned, showing off teeth that were yellow with rot “the girls will find sanctity in their suffering, like Christ upon the cross.”

Nyxie snorted at that.

“I’ll need twelve girls, all in good health.”

“I want fifty dollars per child.” The Mother Superior announced.

“You charged me thirty last time!” Nyxvira objected.

“I know your games, Faerie,” the old woman tittered“if I give these girls to you, I won’t be seeing them again. Therefore, I want fifty dollars per child.”



“Eh, it's not my money.” Nyxie reasoned, counting out six hundred dollars, and placing it flat on the Mother Superior’s desk.

“Very good,” The crone nodded her head “I’ll show you to the dorms, and you can take your pick.”

---

“M-Miss, please,” A little girl by the name of Susie mumbled, teary eyed as she clutched hold of a stuffed rabbit with floppy ears “I don’t like this place.”

She sat in an old metal chair that had gone red with rust, in a dark room with no company save for the plump woman with the funny voice and the curly red hair.

“You won’t be here much longer, Susie,” the woman promised in her soft yet scratchy manner“I just need your help with something, first.”

“I’m good for nothing, Missus.” Susie mumbled, staring at the floor.

“Why would you say such an awful thing?” The woman moved towards her, rubbing the back of her neck ever-so-softly. Her fat fingers felt nice against her skin.

“Momma always said so,” Susie explained “and the Mother Superior, too.”

“Well, the Mother Superior is a withered old crone.”

“You can’t say that, Missus!” The little girl gasped “God will hear you!”

“Trust me, Susie,” The plump lady slid one hand into her jacket pocket, pulling out something long and sharp “God isn’t watching.”

The last thing Susie felt was the needle biting into her neck.

“So what do you think?” Luff murmured? The coals smouldered casting a dull glow around the room.

“Poor son of a bitch certainly needs help,” Del replied wistfully. “I heard that the Italians were working with him begrudgingly but I didn’t expect them to kick the crap out of him as a welcome-to-the-family gift.”

“Sounds like he’s willing to put up with a lot for a chance to feed his ambition. Could it be that his loyalty will extend only as far as we can assist him in that?”

“Could be boss, but”

“Don’t call me boss, girl.”

“Sorry, Dad,” She smirked, “It seems to me that he can be counted on to serve his ambition first and foremost. Wouldn’t that make him easier to predict and control?”

“You certainly think like a secrets-dealer, seems that whoring was most definitely not your calling.”

“I don’t know of anyone that’s called to whoring,” She remarked sullenly. Her face turned stony at his comment.

“My apologies girl. I know that’s a sore subject,”

“Yeah, whatever,”

“Well while you’re finishing up your moping, here’s what I’m thinking.”

****
Luff walked slowly through Santa Somabra. The streets in this part of town had been made to come quite close to being clean. Sidewalks were swept, storefronts nice and tidy, but there was still a filth that permeated the place. It was a subtle mix of greed, ambition, and despair that hung heavy in the air, suffocating the cleanliness of the place. Off. It just felt off.

That was due, in large part Luff figured, to the recent and meteoric rise of the Italians in Santa Somabra. This was an area firmly within their territory and Luff wondered how long the bandage they had slapped onto it would hold before the festering wound that was Santa Somabra billowed forth.

Getting an appointment with the Italians was surprisingly easy. Luff the butcher-of-men had a reputation that carried far more weight in these circles that Luff the butcher-of-pork. The appointment was with one Eddie Martovanni. He was rumored to be composed of a petulant child and a block of ice in equal measures. A man who showed no emotion until he was red with rage over not getting his way.

Luff turned and walked under the small portico that protected a door from the elements. His fist pounded against that door three times. After a few seconds it opened and Luff was greeted with the sight of a human. He supposed the human was big for his race but he was still dwarfed by the ogre.

“Mr. Martovanni has been expecting you,”

“Well I suppose that’s for the best given that I’m on time for my appointment,” The guard stared dully at Luff before stepping aside and motioning him inside.

It was a nice enough shop. There were knick-knacks on the walls and cluttering various shelves. Different items that had been pawned or sold at various points since the shop’s opening. Rather conspicuous business to choose for a mob front, the pawn shop. Eddie Martovanni was standing behind the counter and made no effort to acknowledge Luff’s presence in his shop.

“Mr. Martovanni,” Luff began,

“I am one who enjoys being spoken to only after initiating the conversation, ogre.”

“I’m sure you also enjoy finding your boys strung up like puppets from light posts. You agreed to meet with me, I’ll take that as tacit permission to fucking speak to you.” Luff inflected his voice with just enough of an edge as to prickly the hairs on the back of necks.

“Yours is not a race often associated with intelligence but this is stupid even for an ogre. You would speak to me in my own shop, surrounded by my men, in that manner? You presume too much on your paltry reputation,” the four men who stood in the shadows began to make their way towards Luff.

At that moment, Luff grinned and took a step towards the nearest Italian. Even for a runt of an ogre, that step engulfed the space between the Luff and his target. He extended his arms up under the back of his coat and pulled out twin cleavers. They were in his hands before he had finished taking his step.

One swing with his right hand was all it took to relieve the Italian of the hand reaching for a firearm. Luff butted the man in the face with his forehead and the man went down harder than a side of beef. Squinting his good eye, he took aim and immobilized another guard by hurling his other cleaver into the meat of the man’s thigh.

As the cleaver landed with a wet thunk, there was a loud bang accompanied by a bright flash. As the smoke cleared, the other two guards were laying on the ground clutching various non-lethal wounds. A dark elf woman stood over them holding a long cavalry saber with a wicked parrying dagger in her off-hand. Eddie Martovanni stood in shock as the whole proceedings had taken but a few seconds.

“Eddie,” Luff smiled, “This is Del. She’s training to become a butcher. What do you think? A natural, right?

Eddie only stared, a few unintelligible mutters coming from his mouth

“Here’s the deal, Eddie,” Del snapped, “We wanna do business with the Italians but we don’t wanna do business with you.”

“Well you’re certainly going to get your wish, bitch,” Eddie had finally recovered from the shock and was quickly turning red in the face. “I won’t ever do business with you mongrels. In fact, I’ll see to it that you never do business with any of the Right People in this town again.”

“Hmm, I see your point but fortunately for us, it isn’t up to you,” Luff cut in, “See, you may have had a say in the matter but unfortunately you were conspiring against your boss.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come now, Eddie, I have it on good faith that you were making a deal with that gnoll dealer. Really Eddie? A Gnoll? Almost as unpleasant as an ogre! And what’s more, this shipment of Demon’s blood shouldn’t really be here, should it?” Luff removed a case full of small red vials that once belonged to the Tong in the counter. “You turned in your cut of things to your boss just yesterday. Strange how these seemed to escape your memory. It certainly looks fishy to me, what do you think Del?”

“Definitely fishy. Seems like something Eddie’s boss would want to know about. Seems like something Eddie’s boss would want to do something about.”

“Well, what if we were to do something? You know, clean up his operation a little as a measure of good faith?”

“I think they would be appreciative. Most appreciative.” And with that, they killed Eddie and took his head as proof.

Carrying a burlap bag under his arm, Luff walked side-by-side with Del back towards their shop. After a few blocks they split ways without words and began to prepare for their individual tasks: Luff to try and get in touch with Eddie’s boss and Del to see about a gnoll.
****
When Del approached Fix’s headquarters dressed as the Hand of Anansi it was well into the night. Streetlights were scarce in this parts of town and the black-robed figure blended in with the shadows. She walked across the street, electing to use the door this time.
Knock Knock

After a few moments the heavy metal slit opened and the recognisable eyes of Fix peered through, lighting up as they recognised the Anansi's hand. A few moments later the door was opened and he ushered her in with a welcoming grin as he greeted her "ah my favourite masked stranger, how you cookin dolly?"

"I'm back Fix, as promised," she said, ignoring his flippant greeting. "Offer's off the table. The Anansi has something different in mind,"

"Something different?" Asked Fix, his mind quickly going towards the more negative side of the statement as his smile faultered.

"The name you get for free. We'll get you in good with the Italians and you'll inform on them to us."

The Gnoll hesitated and for a brief moment his previous statement to Eddie Martovanni ringing in his mind. He stared at Del for a few hard moments before he explained "I don't break my word easy Anansai and despite what they did to me I'd still consider what I've agreed with them a bond. That being said my word was to Eddie and specifically regarding narcotics, as long as you don't ask me to talk about him individually and our particular deal I'm sure I can find a way justify what I pass on. Suffice to say you've already been far kinder to me than he ever was." As he spoke his hand found its way to his black eye as again he resisted the urge to curse the Italian and his entire group of goons as he fingered the wound.

"Eddie is dead. We can appreciate your sense of loyalty, but your loyalty doesn't extend to a corpse, right? We're working on getting you a meeting with some bigger Italian fish as we speak. The name is Khadba, nasty old orc. When the Italians come for you, play nice and give them that name. Then you're in. And remember my promise from earlier, Fix. We won't sell you out, we'll just kill you." She turned to walk out the door, "Oh, and as a sign of good faith, word is that Grizzo the Goblin had a run in with the Tongs. Went in to a stronghold and never came out."

"Grizzo!?" Shouted Fix after her. If there was one thing that the Gnoll would not stand for was one of his inner circle being held at the mercy of anyone. His expression changed in a money from interested to that of a Gnoll possessed.

A large form padded quietly in the fading light. Anyone more than ten feet away would have had a difficult time making out the details of the figure but he was certainly larger than any man. A bag hung from his belt. Its contents dense and wet. After sticking to the shadows as he made his way across town, Luff stepped out under a street lamp and hurled the bag. It sailed quietly through the air and into an open window of a second story building.

When the Italian residents discovered the bag, the news would surely go straight to Episcopo. For it was quite the news: Eddie Martovanni was dead. His head was proof of that. Eddie had also turned traitor on his own family, he'd been skimming of the top, the vials of demon's blood included in the bag were evidence of that. He had gone so far as to hire a disposable gnoll dealer to take out his boss. Unfortunately for him, the gnoll had been smarter than that. The gnoll, a dealer by the name of Fix, had killed Martovanni and thrown his head through the window of a two story building. He'd done this as a peace offering to Episcopo. The Italians certainly didn't like traitors.

All these details were outlined in a note tucked away inside the bag. The writing was meticulous cursive, surprisingly neat for a gnoll and far too graceful to be penned by an ogre. Luff chuckled as he walked away, the puppets were dancing along nicely.

Even with her twelve Hobbs delivered, it seemed that the Italians were not yet done with Nyxvira Bloodbloom. Maybe they’ve got a thing for Faeries? She mused, sitting across from Dante Martovanni in his dark little office. A few slithers of light broke in through cracks in the blinds, whilst a mechanical fan hummed back and forth, blasting cool air into the room.

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Miss Bloodbloom,” Dante spoke in a calm and cordial manner, yet the dark flashes which blazed in his glassy eyes betrayed the anger that he was trying to mask “Your punctuality is very much appreciated.”

“Not at all,” Nyxie gave a wave of her hand “I’m happy to help.”

“That is good to hear,” The aging man nodded softly “I’m in need of someone who is both dependable...and discreet.”

“Perhaps we should start at the beginning?” The Faerie prompted.

“Yes...Yes, I believe we should.”

Dante cleared his throat, coughing into his clenched fist.

“My little brother was brash and headstrong, but he was still my blood,” Dante began “and now the Santoni’s have taken him from me. I was already a man grown when my father called the midwife, the day Eddie was born. From the second he came into this world he had a full head of dark hair. We all laughed at that. And now he is gone, and I’m still here. It isn’t right. Should I start fearing for the life of my niece, Anthea, next? Whatever his faults were, Eddie was my brother, for fuck’s sake…”

The Italian paused, affording himself a brief moment to reclaim the composure which was gradually slipping out of his words.

“No partnership is worth my brother’s life. I cannot permit the Santoni family to live, any longer.”

“I understand completely. My family was taken from me at a very young age.” Nyxie said, only half lying “How would you like me to help you?”

“The Santoni’s have dealings in Chinatown, with Old Feng,” Dante explained “they’re trading a shipment of machine guns down by the docks, tomorrow evening. The brute in charge of overseeing the operation is Andreas Cardinale; a Tlynnite.”

Tlynite. A dying, yet still relevant, pagan religion. Tlynite’s held some pretty outdated beliefs. Such as the belief that Faeries were holy creatures, and instruments of God’s will.

“You want me to convince Andreas to break off relations with the Tong,” Nyxie guessed “Old Feng will be insulted, and any future dealings between the Tong and the Santoni’s will be substantially more difficult.”

“A small blow,” Dante admitted “but the journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Can I trust in your cooperation, and subsequent silence?”

---

Nyxvira made her way cautiously down the sidewalk, a fur-lined coat pulled tightly over broad body.

Even at night, Santa Somabra was too hot for her liking.

A small silver box, holding a battered old telephone, was built into a nearby brick wall. Nyxie punched in the number she had been given, and picked up the receiver.

Ring.

Riiing.

Riiiing.

Click.

“Miss Bloodbloom.” A voice answered. The voice of Judas.

“You were right,” The Faerie said, keeping her tone as neutral as she could muster “Big brother is out for blood.”

“Good,” The Hanged Man replied “go ahead as planned. Await further instructions.”

He hung up.

Dominic prowled forwards towards the large group of Gnolls that were stood around in small circles, various small fires and piles of refuse were scattered around and the air was thick with smoke despite the relatively open area they were occupying. Dominic wasn’t keen on the underground warren of old piping and tunnels that the Gnolls occupied, they were cramped and resources were scarce and that was before you even considered the hundreds of competing individuals that called them home. The closest group of Gnolls eyed him as he moved past, glares and barred teeth being flashed his way as a warning to stay away. Graffiti covered practically every surface and the sound of chatter and laughter was heard echoing from practically every direction as the smell of burning carrion and other delightful scents reached his way. He scanned the many groups looking for one of his littermates, but thus far they eluded him as he continued to make his way through the throng.

“Hey Dom! Dominic!” came the sounds of a voice from behind him trying to get his attention, the Gnoll twisting his head he groaned inwardly as he saw one of the smaller and more abused of the Gnolls that Fix had rejected several times.

“What is it Jit?” he grumbled as the considerably smaller Gnoll scurried up to him with his eyes darting around. Dom quickly noticed that he had obviously been in several fights recently, his neck and muzzle being covered in large crusty scabs that were practically still oozing where they had cracked open and re-healed several times. Dom continued to move and even quickened his pace slightly as Jit rushed to keep up as he smirked knowing that Jit was one of the more untrustworthy and desperate of the runts around here.

“You wanna put in that good word for me yet?” He asked his beady eyes darting around at the others that were watching the pair make their way through the large group “I got something to trade ya”.

Dom rolled his eyes dreading what he was about to endure, the last time Jit had offered him a trade he had been in possession of what had turned out to be a rather fake ‘magical’ artefact, a small mouse skull amulet that he had insisted was blessed with good luck – but turned out to just be a small dead rodent on a piece of string. Before that Fix had given the Gnoll a chance, giving him a small quantity of Dust to sell, but Jit had disappeared for weeks before reappearing and claiming he had been attacked and the cash he’d made from selling it had been taken, not that anyone had believed him for even a second.

“Piss off Jit” barked Dom as he went down into one of the open pipeways that lead deeper into the Gnoll’s warren. The small Gnoll looked dejected but kept by his side.

“You ain’t gonna sell me anything either?” he asked. Dom paused and again rolled his eyes.

“Got cash?” replied Dom glaring at him for a moment. Jit licked his snout before he glanced down at the ground, his expression saying more than his words could.

“Piss of Jit” repeated Dom this time a slight growl escaping him. The small Gnoll this time took the hint and disappeared within a few moments, already aware of the penalty for trying his luck too many times.

It took him almost an hour before he spotted a group with several of his brothers amongst them. The greetings and ‘reunion’ of sorts were short lived and felt only half sincere, though they perked up when he handed his eldest brother a bag filled with cash – after all family was important even if Dom considered Fix and the crew more-so family than the one he had been born with. Fix had earned his trust and loyalty, as Dom before had earnt his with his enterprising employer.

After that Dom had been interested to learn that as far as his brothers and the Hunters were concerned, they’d had nothing at all to do with the attack on the Militia or the Blood that had gone missing. Going as far as to in hushed tones imply that some of the Hunters had traced the culprit to some butchers shop somewhere in the city – though beyond that they hadn’t been heard from again and hadn’t provided any more information to the Gnolls, so they were at a bit of a dead end and couldn’t tell him anything else.

“Oh and Dom” added his brother in his guttural accent “word is someone was lookin for your boss and some of the pack rolled on his location, just a heads up. Wouldn’t wanna see you get dead for that idiot”.

Not like Dom didn’t already know that, having had the pleasure of meeting the Anansi with Fix and listened to their conversation. Regardless he thanked his brother and assured them he’d be about more, not that he intended to follow through with it but such words were always polite. He failed to mention that he thought it was the rest of the Gnolls who were the real idiots, skulking down here without a single ambition beyond what they considered to be their own little realm.

As he was leaving Dom spotted from across the way Gideon, Fix’s eldest brother and self-proclaimed ‘leader’ of several of the little gangs that the Gnolls comprised. He was glaring at him without restraint, flanked by several of his cronies. Fortunately it looked like they weren’t making any moves towards him and they simply stared as he made his way out. The words of the Anansai struck him suddenly, that some of the other Gnolls were envious of Fix’s ambitions and success. He wondered possibly if Gideon had anything to do with the breech of location and made a note to talk to Fix about it.



Grizzo hawked back the slime that was gathering in the back of his throat, half gargling half snorting as he did before he spat out the huge loogie directly into the face of the man that was stood in front of him brandishing a savagely serrated blade.

“That… was… not… wise” growled the man in broken English, his thick accent dominating his speech and he glared at the goblin who was strung from an old rusty coat hook bound by thick ropes. The Chinese man had a shaved head with a little strand of braided black hair hanging down at the back, wearing what looked like silken robes embroidered with fancy patterns and swirling colours.

“That was not wise” mimicked Grizzo in his most irritating high pitched voice as he struggled wildly attempting anything he could to do to get himself loose. The ropes around his wrists cut deeply into him and warm blood was starting to trickle down his arms as he did so, but it was amazing how motivating the threat of imminent death and torture was against the pain. The man frowned deeply and took a small step forwards as he pressed the large knife into the restrained goblins chest and began to carve a deep gash from his collarbone down to his lower stomach, his frown turning into a slight grin as the goblin thrashed, squealed and cursed.

“Ready to talk?” he questioned as he stopped and moved backwards to examine his handy work “I assure you that death by one-thousand cuts is not pleasant. I am an expert in making sure that you will not draw your last breath before I have the information I need”.

“Chink! Gook! Fucking Yellowman!!” screeched Grizzo as again he tried to hawk some spit at his interrogator, but this time it was more of a feeble spray as the pain radiating through the goblin started to be almost unbearable.

The evening continued much in the same fashion for what felt like more than a few hours, though as the sun started to set with it went the goblin’s enthusiasm, his torso and arms soon covered in a generous amount of deep cuts and roughly carved Chinese symbols his interrogator had grifted into his flesh with a sadistic glee.

“We didn’t take your blood” spluttered the goblin meekly for what must have been at least the tenth time, wracking coughs also escaping him “Are you fuckin stupid? Everyone knows it was the Militia… why would we sell out the merchandise we were going to buy?”

“Maybe you think they sell for cheaper? Maybe your boss is báichī to know to cross Tong to die? All know Gnoll dishonest backstabbers… just like soulless Mogwai like you. You will tell where you base is and how to get in” he said once more approaching the goblin with the blade drawn.

As once more Grizzo’s screeches rang out there was suddenly a echoing bang that wrung through the small warehouse, causing the interrogator to swing around as a floor grate in the far corner slammed open and thick smoke began to bellow upwards out of it, the huge plume spreading rapidly and obscuring the entire southern end of the large room.

The interrogator shouted rapidly in thick Chinese, above him on a raised metal walkway several more Tong members emerged from a control room with various guns clasped in their hands as they took up positions aimed at the smoke. There were a tense few moments as they waited and exchanged confused looks, before suddenly a wild stream of screaming Goblins and Gnolls not only charged forwards, but several of them also disappeared with brief blue flashes, moments later reappearing in various other positions as the Runez that coursed through their systems started to kick in.

The sound of gunfire was deafening as the Tong opened up, moments later their attackers returning fire and the warehouse was filled with shouts of pain and confusion as two more smoke grenades flew from the previous plume and clattered to the ground before they began to hiss and spit out copious amounts of obscuring smoke that added to the chaos and reducing the vision within the warehouse to practically nothing. Occasionally a cry sounded as someone took a round and crumpled to the ground, their death throes adding to the symphony of bullet-fire.

As his interrogator took a few steps backwards Grizzo took the opportunity presented to him and as the man came within range he sunk his little savage teeth into the back of the man’s neck, clamping down as hard as he could. As the man screamed and tried to pull away the goblin focused every inch of his being into biting down as hard as he could, maintaining the grip for a few moments longer before the man tore free and stumbled forwards twisting around, his face contorted in rage as his own blood ran thickly down his shoulders and back. He screamed in Chinese and lifted the knife before lunging forwards, intent on ending the life of the disobedient little creature before he could be freed.

Another gob of hot phlegm, now mixed with his own blood was his reward as Grizzo somehow found the strength to once more spit, hitting him squarely in the eye – the goblin cackling as in shock the man stopped for a second to wipe his eye clean with a grimace. Before he could resume his momentum and plunge his blade into the goblin an ominous shape appeared in the cloud behind him and leapt onto the man, pinning him to the ground as the knife clattered off disappearing into the smoke. Grizzo watched in glee as he saw Fix, his face contorted into an otherworldly snarl, his eyes practically glowing a deep red as the Gnoll was obviously under the effects of Demon’s Blood as he mauled and reduced his interrogator into a writhing bloody mess. A few moments later at his side Diero appeared and with a quick motion had used a flip-knife to cut him free and hauled the goblin onto his shoulders before he began to run back into the smoke towards the grate that they had attacked through. As they did so Grizzo found the motivation to yell “Fuck em all boss! Fuckem till their all good and dead!”

The Gnoll however did not hear him and moments later left the Chineseman’s bleeding corpse and bounded away heading for the metal stairs that would lead him up to the walkway towards those enemies that were still alive as bloodlust took ahold of him.



The smoke had long since cleared and Fix was sat on a crate cradling his head in his hands as he waited for the whispers he heard and his throbbing headache to subside, fortunately for him he still had the presence of mind to ignore their gnawing suggestions that his most trusted allies were all betraying him and laughing at him behind his back (as well as that he was by far the most hideous Gnoll that had ever lived, which was obviously untrue as far as he was concerned). He glanced down at his suit and shirt, now almost completely soaked in blood and beyond any chance of being able to salvage or clean the garments – he smirked softly at the thought of the dry-cleaning bill he would receive. Though on the one hand he felt slightly nauseous at what he had descended into, on the other it had felt so good, so pure and so animalistic that he hadn’t wanted to stop and in fact it was only when each of the Tong members lay dead that he had finally started to calm down. Right now it was hard to care beyond the fact that this would probably cause problems. Lots of problems. Definitely cause lots of problems. But the Chinatown Tong had started this whole mess and kidnapped one of his own and as far as he was concerned that was a declaration of war and to not respond in kind would have left them weak and exposed, something that they definitely could not afford at this moment.

Beyond that word had just reached him that he had apparently killed Eddie Martovanni - so he was beyond confused.

“Everything alright boss?” queried Diero as he moved forwards now wearing a luxurious kimono that he had found in one of the many boxes in the factory.

“Whisky…” croaked Fix, causing the Gnoll to scurry away immediately, knowing that without a drink it wouldn’t be long before his employer descended into one of the darkest moods possible, something that everyone would want to prevent at such a key moment.

Fix hardly moved as each second ticked by slower than the one before it. At some point one of the goblins from Grizzo’s family came up and thanked him, promising him that if he ever needed any assistance they’d be happy to suffice. He made a mental note to talk to them later and see if there were any others that could be trusted to join his operation, but right now he managed little more than a few grunts and nods of comprehension.

Diero returned shortly after with a bottle of whisky which he quickly gulped down, warmth and a feeling of slight relief flooding through his system as he did. Once he had finished he tossed the empty bottle aside and lit a cigarette before he stood and began to bark orders. The factory would need to be looted, he would need to see Grizzo and more importantly he would need to find out what the fuck was going on with the Italians and why the word was that he had killed one of them and gotten himself within their good books. ‘Today is getting better and better’ he thought sarcastically as he took another deep drag. The shipment from the Italians was sure to be interesting, and as such he’d make sure that this time he wasn’t alone and that everyone involved had enough firepower to make anyone think twice about a showdown.

Nyxvira wasn’t sure what God’s holy messengers looked like, but she was pretty certain they didn’t have their cleavage on display, so she made a point of fishing out the most modest clothes she owned when getting her outfit ready. If she was going to convince Cardinale to break off his deal with the Tong, she needed to be in the right headspace, and that meant making sure every little detail was meticulously orchestrated to help her get into character.

The Faerie stood in front of her apartment’s full-figure mirror, her fiery red curls bound up in a bun above her head, as she squeezed herself into a milk white swing skirt dress. She could feel it pressing tightly around her middle. She’d gained some weight. It was seven pounds at the most, but it was noticeable.

I’ll have to go shopping at some point. It's not like I can’t afford it, anymore.

She placed a pair of golden torcs around her wrists, and added a crucifix necklace the Italians had given her for full-effect; mentally composing herself as she made the transition from aspiring slum queen to angelic valkyrie.

Nyxvira let all traces of her usual smug sneer slip away from her face, creating a mask of pious serenity. She made eye contact with the foreigner in the mirror, gazing into her sparkling irises.

“Count not my transgressions, but, rather, my tears of repentance. Remember not my iniquities, but, more especially, my sorrow for the offenses I have committed against you.” She murmured, her voice soft and soothing, with just the faintest hint of her usual iciness.

Now, let's go kick some serious arse.

---

During the daytime the Santa Somabra docks were buzzing with life, but at night things were considerably more quiet. A few figures shuffled about beneath the dead black sky, but other than that the waterfront was almost silent. Huge Mechanical cranes loomed immobile above the still husks of empty boats, and stacks upon stacks of shipping containers dotted the edges of the docks.

Nyxie’s destination was the USS Junia, a small cargo ship where Andreas Cardinale conducted his dock-based dealings. The Junia itself was a modest vessel, with a squat little hold that’s white paint job was peeling away in flakey strips, and a chimney-like funnel at its centre. It sat at the end of the docks, hiding in plain sight as it bobbed gently back and forth, tucked away between two larger ships.

The Faerie made her way slowly down the docks, walking with long, confident strides.

“Miss Bloodbloom.” A voice echoed out of the darkness.

She spun on her heel, and came face-to-face with a pale-skinned Chinese man, dressed in a silvery grey suit and a dark-rimmed fedora. He also happened to be pointing a Stocking Pepperbox six-shot pistol straight at her.

The man watched her with hawk-like precision, taking note as her petrified gaze fell upon the handgun.

“Oh, this?” the man nodded to his pistol with a sharp laugh “Don’t think anything of it. Its for my protection, more than anything else. If I wanted you dead I’d have just shot you before you knew I was here.”

“I’m guessing you want something from me?” Nyxie asked, as calmly as she could manage in the current circumstances, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“You’ve guessed correctly,” the man replied “I’ve been following you for a few days now; ever since you helped the Italians off Tao Yin. You’re not very good at covering your tracks, Miss Bloodbloom. Be thankful that it was me who picked up the trail you left behind.”

“I’ll be more careful, next time.” She replied sourly.

“You’re lucky there even is a next time,” he shot back “You’re supposed to be a professional. There are certain rules that professionals have to follow.”

“If you’re planning on lecturing me, I’d really rather you just shoot me.”

“As much as I’d enjoy that, I was ordered to keep you alive; and I never disobey an order.” He said plainly “The italians know you’re coming, and it isn’t Cardinale waiting for you on that boat. If you step aboard the Junia, Santoni men will put a bullet between your eyes.”

“How’d they catch on?” Nyxvira asked, caution biting away at the edge of her voice.

“A tip off from Judas, not directly of course. A civil war between the Martovanni and Santoni families is exactly the opening he needs to push the Italians out of Santa Somabra, once and for all.”

That corpse-raping fuck.

“I see.” Nyxie said “And what use am I to whoevers hired you?”

The man smiled, a sharp hook-like grin pulling on the corner of his lips.

“How much do you know about the Nyctari family?”

Luff walked slowly through the dockside district. The air was still, devoid of the usual vibrancy of the day time. Everything around him seemed to sag with age. There was a pride nestled within the sturdiness of the buildings and of the shipyard as a whole, but it all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the usual tenants left for the day. Rust spotted most metal surfaces and the elements had beaten down everything else.

The perfect spot for an ambush, really.

There had been word on the streets of a faerie who'd gotten herself in deep with the Italians. Well, the Martovannis, anyway. Luff's powerplay in establishing Fix with the Martovanni family had some unintended side-effects. That bothered Luff. So here he was, on the docks at night, trying to clean up his mess. Or at least get some information to make the process easier.

As he made his way deeper into the shipyard and closer to the waterfront he felt a pang of discontent. Del wasn't with him this time. She had some other things to attend to and so Luff trudged through the docks alone. He'd really come to enjoy working with her. Though a novice at this, she had a real knack for it and her innate showmanship often left him with a faint smile.

But she wasn't here tonight and so he turned his thoughts back to the task at hand. When you're seven feet tall, stealth in the physical sense is quite difficult. In fact, Luff had almost given the practice up altogether. For Luff, stealth was in the planning, the scheming, the weaving of lies and identities into a web so confusing, no one assumed a simple ogre butcher could have any part in it. A lot of good that did him tonight, however. He walked with a purpose, cleavers hanging from his belt and a shotgun concealed under his cloak. He hoped he would not have to use them.

As he turned a corner and spotted the USS Junia at the end of the straightaway, he heard voices. As nimbly as he could, he threw himself into the closest alley and listened. One voice was female, the faerie in question undoubtedly. The other was cold, icy, but not without a sense of mirth. The man clearly felt in control of the situation. If he were to gauge the situation, he would not predict a favorable outcome for the faerie. The voices were difficult to hear and as the cadence of the conversation rose and fell he could make out a few select words. The last of which sent a shiver down his spine.

Nyctari

So those blood-suckers were in play now. That was good to know but not exactly reassuring. It was dangerous enough playing a game with the Hanged Men but immortal aristocrats with an affinity for the flesh trade were hardly Luff's choice of company.

Any wise ogre (a paradox if there ever was one) would tell you that there is a balance to be struck between the rising level of danger contained within a situation and one's benefit for staying in said situation. The moment the Nyctari family was mentioned, the scales crossed over from favoring benefit to favoring danger. Knowing this, Luff turned to leave. Or he would have if the cold barrel of a firearm didn't, at that very moment, press gently into the back of his skull.

"Don't move,"

How do you knock out an Ogre? With very strong horse tranquilizer, apparently. Or whatever it was that was in the needle Nyxie’s newest acquaintance shoved into Luff’s leathery flesh. The great beast swayed...and fell, crashing to the ground with a booming thud, his eyes slammed shut.

“Quick thinking.” Nyxvira said dryly, looking over the unconscious ogre with a fleeting glance.

“Prepare for every eventuality, Miss Bloodbloom,” The man gave a slight shrug of his shoulders “or you’ll likely find that the world is constantly catching you off guard.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“ Respectfully, Miss Bloodbloom,If your mother had raised you properly, this city wouldn’t keep catching you with your pants down.”

---

The Ogre’s body was loaded into a truck, along with the considerably more conscious Nyxvira, before the man and two unspeaking accomplices in dark suits drove them out to the murky hills around Santa Somabra’s outskirts, with the scattered midnight winds hissing against the truck’s windows as they sped down the haphazard roads to the Nyctari Estate.

Nyxvira and Luff parted ways at the entrance, when the Ogre was dumped in the garage, and Nyxie herself was taken to meet Elkanah Nyctari.

The Faerie was led through a vast cavern of a house, with huge blackwood pillars, and great spiraling staircases, until a pair of armed guards forced her into a dimly lit room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Miss Bloodbloom,” Elkanah called out from beneath a curtain of darkness, his features completely obscured by the thick veil that the night cast upon him “I’m glad to see that you’re intact.”

“Signore Nyctari.” Nyxvira bowed her head, whilst a deep chill crept down her spine. She could feel her heart pounding like crazy in her ribcage, and with Elkanah’s vampiric senses there was no doubt that he was just as aware of it as she was.

“You’ll have to excuse my poor manners, but I’m going to do away with pleasantries, if it's all the same to you, Miss Bloodbloom.” Elkanah’s voice spoke from across the room.

“Of course.” Nyxie said, in as respectful a tone as she could manage.

“There is a very specific piece of property that I wish to acquire; a brothel in the Red Light District that belongs to a man called “Contráth”. He’s refused any offer that my employees have made to him, and his establishment seems to be under the protection of the Hanged Men, who my nephew is intent on supporting.”

“I see.” The Faerie spoke in a mechanical tone.

“It is to my understanding that you’ve had dealings with my nephew in the past, and that he isn’t particularly fond of you.”

That’s putting it mildly.

“That’s correct, signore.”

“Good,” Elkanah paused for a moment, letting his words hang on the air “Then you’ll be perfect for the little bit of sabotage that I have planned.”

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing to my car!”

Samuel Murphy sighed, straightened his back, fixed a calm considerate look on his face and turned around. In front of him stood the a small man, a little over five feet, receding hairline, brown eyes and with a pair of glasses that made him look like an overgrown rat. The look wasn’t helped by the high pitched squeak of the man’s voice.

“Sir you are parked in a non-parking area. If-” The man exploded into a long line of obscenities. The Captain and his supervisor had explained this morning that the people of the city weren’t exactly like the people of Bakerstand. At the time he had said You can count on me sir…No sir. I can handle people. I’m good with people...yes I have read the funnies? . Now Samuel wasn’t so sure. Maybe he’d in fact always been bad with people and they’d just taken pity on –

“…DEMON BLOODED COW SUCKER!” That was a new one. It was only about the thirds instance of these ‘discussions’ he worked out the golden rule of dealing with angry members of the public. He took out a notebook and started writing. They all reacted the same way. They carried on shouting at first. “You feel good about yourself! My son fought in Korea! What have you done-“ Then they noticed the note book.

“Hey what are you writing?” Then they protested some more. “You can’t do that! I’m an American buddy!” Then they stopped.

“…”

“If you would like to appeal the ticket you can go down to city hall and present it to the designated attendant.”

“Yeah thanks a lot!”

Samuel was about to look for more traffic violations with a cop car pulled up to the curb. The driver window came down and he greeted by rough face of Alexander Gregory, his Supervising Officer and his partner Harry Lynch. He’d only met Alexander briefly in in the morning meeting at the station, before being assigned his area route. Alexander looked a bit older than most Patrol Officers, he was starting to get grey hairs, but his eyes still looked sharp and he was almost painfully thin. His partner Harry was the opposite. Fat and balding and what was starting to sound like a throat infection for a voice.

“Nice handle of those last two. That said maybe you should start with the notebook in the future?” Alexander grind.

“Don’t listen to him kid. You gotta stay frosty. Cool but calm. Just like me.” Harry wheezed. “Look enough chit chat, get in the car, we’re taking you out for lunch. Get in.” Samuel got in the back and swung the door shut. The car lurched forward any they were off. Harry got out a pack of smokes and offered them to Samuel. Samuel declined and watched the people in the city walk by. This place is so strange he thought. Every manner of person or creature could be seen walking the streets of the city. As he watched a trio of Gnolls ran down side walk, nearly bumping into an Ogre with an expensive suite. He’d met Gnolls before, a family of them that had passed through Bakerstand when he was a kid. Nice folk, but he understood why most people were wary of them. His observations were cut short by Harry.

“So…Murph what brought you into the big city?” Samuel didn’t even need to think about it.

“To make a difference. My father always told me that the worst thing a guy can do is let bad things happen to good people. ” Harry turned in his seat, the cigarette he had been sucking at rolling around his mouth as he did.

“Was your daddy in the War?”

“Yes sir. He was with the fifth”

“Marines? Ha. I was there with them. Probably fought with you daddy at the battle of… Ah no one wants to hear the war stories these days…You think you’re doing that by issuing tickets?” Harry let the question sit there for a moment before grinning. “Relax kid! I’m just busting your balls, Alex will you tell the kid I’m just busting his balls?”

“He’s just riding you-“

“Listen…Murph, we’ve got nothing but you’re best intrests at heart and if you stick with us, you’ll be off that ticket beat in no time. You’ve gotta realise around here. In this city especially people will chew you up and spit you out. You’ve gotta be able to take a hard time and make a hard time. You understand me? The people you work with out there will sooner cut your throat than see you place a ticket on their car. You’ve got to get tougher. Make them sweat some more and you’ll see the benefits...We’re going to Caffé Stregathat. Have you heard of Sammy Martovanni?” Samuel sat a little straighter. He’d heard of the Martovanni family, who hadn’t? Everyone in the City knew of the two biggest families in the Italian Coalition.

“Didn’t Eddie Martovanni die recently?” Samuel asked.

“Don’t bring that up when you meet Sammy kid.”

“What?” The car pulled up outside the restaurant and they got out. A few hired goons stood outside the Café. Two large guys stood outside the restaurants. Their eyes were alert and they looked like hard men. Harry walked up to the taller of the two.

“We’re here to see your new boss and get a couple of sandwiches.” The bigger one spoke with a voice like gravel.

“The boss don’t want to see no one. Least of all cops.”

“Tell him he’ll want to hear what we got to say.” The two guards looked at each other and stepped away from the door. Alexander went first, followed by Harry and then Samuel. The inside of the restaurant would have been empty if it weren’t for the twelve goons sitting at the tables near the back. A waiter came towards them.

“Us two have business with the boss. Baby face will take a seat and the club sandwich.” Taking the hint, he sat at the table and waited. Harry and Alex moved past the goons to the back of the restaurant where a young man he assumed as Sammy was eating. Sammy was young, sixteen at most, but there was something wrong with his eyes. Once as a boy Samuel had seen a wolf. The thing had been half dead and starved, but there had been a look in its eyes. They both shared that look. Harry and Alexander stood at the table for a few moments. Harry shifted his weight back and forth on his legs.

“Sammy! Looking good. Ohhhh. You got some of that Lasagne? I heard that was good here.” Alex motioned for Harry to be quite.

“Sam, we’ve got some news that might be of use to you?” Sammy stopped eating.

“Talk.”

“You heard about the gang shooting at warehouse last night…Well a few of our sources say that the Tong were holding something at that place.”

“Get to the point.”

“The Tong were holding something for the Hanged. Something the Hanged want very badly.” Harry pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Sammy. As he read his face betrayed nothing. Samuel had seen military boys with less cool than this kid. Sammy finished the note and passed it to one of his body guards.

“How do I know this is genuine? For all I know you could have any person strung up in the cellar.”

“Sammy your family has always been good to us. Whenever a guy stepped out of line your father gave him to us. Whenever some crook pigs looked at your businesses we politely pushed them away. We just want assurances that your friends in blue like Officer Murphy there will be compensated appropriately.” Harry beckoned Samuel over. Samuel got up and walked across the room. The close he got the harder it became to concentrate on Sammy’s face. Sammy held his hand out to shake. The moment he touched his hand, his whole body jerked in pain. He tried to let go, but Sammy held on. His hand started to ache as Sammy squeezed.

“Officer Samuel Murphy, do you know that the easiest gateway to a person’s soul, the easiest one to get to, is through their eyes?” Samuel couldn’t respond. It was taking all his effort not to cry out in pain. The pain did something to his eyes. As Samuel watched Sammy’s face seemed to become more pointed, his mouth larger and his teeth sharper. He looked demonic. "It's why you always need to look at why you kill in the eyes. When you do that you become stronger-"

Harry grunted. With a dejected sigh Sammy let go. His face was normal and there no sign that anything else other than the handshake had taken place. Even his hand no longer ached with a pressure he was sure should have broken his bones.

“You’ll get your dues officers.” Sammy nodded and they were escorted to the exit. “Officer Samuel Murphy. I will be seeing you around.” He raised a glass of red liquid and drank it. Though the entire time Samuel had watched him, he hadn’t seen the glass once.

“What just happened?” Said Samuel, holding his hand, rubbing the area he was sure had been crushed.

“The world moved around Murph. Just the world moving around…Look Murph. You wanted to make a difference. Well this is that. Because of this a lot of good cop families won’t go hungry tonight. ”

“What we did?”

“There is nothing to worry about kid. Everyone works like this. The whole city does. You take a few gifs, you give a few back.”

“What if I don’t like this? Why are we making deals with scum?” Alexander turned around.

“You don’t have to like it. Hell if it makes you feel better, we’ll take your side of the cut, to ease your conscious. I would advise taking it though. I don’t know if I could trust an officer on the force who would turn down free money. I don’t know a lot of guys that could. Don’t make a big deal out of this.” The car pulled up near where they had picked him up.

“Listen Murph. We all used to be like you. Good cops in a bad situation and this city doesn’t do good things to good cops. Promise me you’ll think about it"

"…"

"One last thing. Stay aware from Sammy Martovanni.”