---

---

For one of the first times in Eli's long life, she had actually been surprised. No, it wasn't that as soon as Eli stepped into the hotel, she found someone there in the hallway. Eli's nostrils flared with the scent of freshly leaking blood from a human cavity, could hear the labored breathing of an injured person nearby the very moment she opened the door. It was more of a matter of who was there in the hallway.

She had almost lost the irony of this whole thing, but she caught it. This man was likely the VIP, concerning the way he dressed, frantic expression of an operation gone badly, and leaving his lackeys to deal with the mess out front while he escaped through the back. The typical cowardly leader type that Eli had seen in the corporate sector of her father's empire. She decided then that this world didn't need this man any longer.

The metal door clanged shut, leaving Eli and a man facing each other mere meters apart. The man had a look of utter bewilderment as realization settled upon a drenched girl, appearing no older than a high schooler or maybe even a middle schooler. It was an understandable expression, one that Eli felt she received a lot in this world. Eli, meanwhile, had looked almost bored or expressionless which may have also contributed to the man's gaping expression of confusion.

Seconds passed as the silent standoff continued, Eli could hear the man curse to himself under his breath while her eyes and attention slowly drifted down from the man's face to that of his bloodied hands. Fresh, still wet blood stickied the man's hands but there was no betraying Eli's nose for this, it was the man's very own blood. Her gazed dropped and focused on the torn sleeve that made a makeshift bandage. Blood was slowly soaking the colors of the sleeve darkening the material as it soaked up the man's leaking fluid.

It had been about almost a week since the last time Eli had her fill of that sweet human nectar and faced with it now, it was difficult not to focus on it. Eli's mouth became dry as her tongue slipped out onto her lips, licking them quickly before hiding once again. Her current mission was quickly put out of her mind in a rush of gluttonous thoughts of gorging herself on this man.

The man took one step forward but he remained cautious, probably suspecting some type of abnormal human was before him. Eli's throat rumbled in a low, bestial growl and the instinctively rose his weapon but by the time he brought it to Eli's height, she had already begun to move.

Guns had always provided humans a crucial asset in Eli's world. Although they never really killed a Vampyr, they helped incapacitate them until other means can be taken to insure their destruction. Many times, it was just waiting for the sun to come up but there countless of times that humans built large fires to burn an unconscious Vampyr. So when the man, Antonio as Eli would later discover, fired one round into Eli's shoulder, she hadn't even flinched. It hurt but it didn't slow her down and that was all Antonio could do before Eli had leapt up, tackling the bigger man with a surprising force. On top of him, she roughly pinned the man down by his shoulders and leaned her head into the man's neck. Instinctively she bit right into the carotid artery, tearing away flesh and crushing bone with her powerful jaw before blood gushed out. She lapped it up like a dog would water, feasting as the man screamed and struggled but found Eli gave no quarter or spared no inch for the man to get free. He eventually passed out as Eli continued to take gulps of the man's fresh, warm blood.

...

Several minutes would pass until Eli was disturbed from her meal in the form of glass shattering and loud bash against a wall, likely a person. Eli's head shot up and stared carefully down the hall, Antonio's blood still wet around her lips and chin. This disruption turned out to be necessary as Eli could now hear the law enforcement sirens wail nearby providing her a cue that it may be time to go. However, she remembered her promised duty to her daycare figure and should swiftly move to at find or at least ensure Eric's sister was safe.

Eli's hands moved from Antonio's shoulders to his neck where she would carefully snap his neck cleaning to ensure she did not accidentally adopt this man. Adoption was the fonder way of thinking of biting and turning a human over as a Vampyr would usually take on the newly turned into their family. It was more of a modern day tradition but it was one that Eli had no intentions of practicing here.

With an assurance that Antonio wasn't coming back, Eli sprang to her feet and hurried down the hall, unsure where she would end up although she had a hunch.

It took some navigation but Eli had found herself just at the crux of entering the hotel lobby but more importantly, found herself surprised for the second time today.

An autonomous soldier was carefully pacing across the center of the lobby towards a downed figure that bore no resemblance to any human she had ever seen. Well actually it wasn't the figure's image that had no resemblance, he was covered, but rather the figure's smell. It was foreign and unusual but with a faint whiff something more humanlike. Unlike the smell of Antonio or any other human, this figure did not excite Eli into possibilities of gorging herself and instead left her mind barren of such thought. The only other time she could feel this way was with her own kind but never relished in their company.

This was perhaps, a very crucial moment in Eli's life. Had she discovered that this world had other species that weren't human or maybe partially human according this figure's smell? If so, then perhaps she could have a feeling of normalcy and a relationship where she didn't kill or eat them. The fantasy of the situation was just as consuming as her earlier thoughts with Antonio and thus, Eric would have to be sedated with a lie that his sister was okay because saving the only creature that didn't make her hungry was deemed more important.

Eli fell to all fours and quickly scurried across the floor, sticking to the shadows of the damaged lighting of the main floor. It took Eli only a moment to maneuver into position. A position where she would strike from behind the robot to avoid the potential of her being recorded. She valued her deceptive appearance as a useful asset and wouldn't take a chance with it at the moment.

Eli returned to her feet but still hid herself partially by the concierge desk as the robot passed her position. Once it did, she silently sprang into action as her bare feet bolted across the stone flooring taking only moments to reach the robot by surprise. She did the same thing with Antonio and leapt up onto the robot's torso, wrapping her bloodied feet around the waist of the automation and wrapping one arm around the neck. Then with her free hand, she reached over the robot's head and grabbed it by its chin. Her thin arm flexed showing incredible definition, though not bulk, of muscle as she violently ripped the head off the robotic soldier.

The robot crumbled soon after and fell to the ground, leaving Eli to release the thing in order to catch herself back on her feet. She tossed the robotic head away with an expression of disgust before turning her blank, emotionless gaze back to the downed figure.

"You'll owe me one. Now come on.", Eli said plainly as she walked over to Tariq. She stopped just before the creature and reached a gentle hand down to his hand. Once clasped, she'd either help him up and guide him along down the hallway to the back exit where she entered or if he didn't pick himself up, she'd drag the poor soul behind her towards the exit.

---

The elevator dinged as Priya drew her firearm. She prepared for the worst. Once the doors opened she stepped out and swept right and left. Nothing. An empty hallway led to the door to the stairs. She made the climb. Luckily, it wasn't a long hike up. She opened the door and peeked. Again, an empty hallway that led to massive doors to, what she assumed was, the penthouse. She was almost upset that she didn't have anyone she could arrest or fight with. She wondered if they were even in the room anymore. That would be a pisser.

As she neared the door, she heard the thumping of music and the thumping of...other things. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the hostages in this situation were of the nighttime variety. However, if they were here under pressure, she'd save them. If they weren't, surely the people responsible for all of this trouble weren't just going to let them go easily. Either way, she opened the door quietly.

The room was spacious and it reeked of disposable income. She half-expected things to be all gold. She was somewhat wrong, but noticed the gold outlines along the walls. There were two men sitting on the couch with a woman with enormous...personalities that made her look down at her own with displeasure. She was wearing very little, but she didn't appear to be having a good time. She didn't look like your average hooker either. She was young too. That hurt. The guys were egging her on and she did her best to be vivacious, but you could tell she wanted to be anywhere but here.

She did a quick sweep. She assumed there were more up here, but she had to make sure these guys and the girl were taken care of. So she stepped across the room before she clocked her gun, "Excuse me boys. Fun time is over." The girl looked up to see her and, though she let out a small cry and covered her chest (for whatever reason, she was now modest), the two guys got up and reached for their weapons. "I wouldn't do that. I may look like a piece of ass to you, but I am highly trained with this piece. You make one more step and I will use force and this rug is, quite frankly, gorgeous and I would hate to stain it with your blood. Now...guns on the ground and kick them away." The men sneered at her, but complied. She motioned for them to kneel down and they did so. She waved the woman over and she came, "Thank you! The others are..." before she could finish, she looked over towards one of the many doors and let out another cry. Priya looked over and saw what made the girl go wide-eyed.

Some big man was carrying a bigger gun. A shotgun, to be more precise. He was flanked by three other men. A gaggle of girls were behind him, in various forms of dress and undress. The big guy didn't look pleased. "This must be the cop we heard on the radio. Should have left when you had the change, girl." He aimed the gun up and in quick succession of moments she was sure would be slow motion if she were in a movie, she pushed the woman near her to the ground and quickly dove behind the counter of the kitchen. The gun rang out, followed by a few others. She heard soem scrambling and assumed the other two guys were reaching for their guns. Bullets hailed the room. She couldn't return fire. She had to think quickly. Panic was setting in. It was then she heard a message through her comms "Detective, Anti-Terrorism arrived. I have no avenue of escape, running would result in my eventual arrest. Anti-Terrorism droid has been deployed, please call them off."

Well at least back-up was here. But now Duos was in trouble and she was about to be killed. That's when she remembered.

She had other skills.

Surely they kicked in by now. They only ever did when she was in danger and if this situation didn't scream danger, she didn't know what would. The only question was...what power did she get? She looked at her hands. Nothing. She looked around her. Nothing. She felt her body. Nothing.

What the fuck?!?

The only thing she could do was try to shoot her way out of this. She peeked around the corner and raised her gun. She heard a shot and her gun was sent flying. She felt the pressure on her hand as the bullet hit. She looked at her hand and noticed.

No hole. No blood.

In fact, it was as if the bullet bounced off of her hand. That was it. She was bulletproof. She could kiss someone. Now she had a chance. She quickly sprang up and ran for her gun. The men fired at her and she could feel a few hit, but they merely bounced off of her. She turned around and aimed her gun. The men focused on her and rang out a few shots. They were easily deflected. "What the hell? We're not hitting her!" "Leave her to me." the big guy said as he raised his shotgun. He fired at her and she could feel it hit her chest. She crumpled forward and clutched her gut. The man smiled, "There we go...what the...!?" Priya stood up and let her arms go as the bullets dropped to the floor. "Ouch." She aimed her gun and shot, hitting three of the guys as they fell. She was careful not to kill them. She aimed her gun at the big guy, who was still in shock, "What the hell are you?" he said. She merely smiled.



She rounded up the guys and the girls. They were all scrambling around, crying and tearing up. "Ladies, please! I'll have you away safely once my back-up gets up here. We'll get you all home." She would make sure the boys in blue looked the other way to their profession and got them back to their respective homes. She pinged Duos back "Sorry, I was in a rough spot for a bit there. Things are taken care of though. The girls are rounded up and the baddies are on their way to the station. I imagine we didn't get them all though. The ringleader wasn't here, it seemed. I have some back-up coming up. Not sure if you want to meet them or not, but I told them to let you go. Thanks for the assist." She left it at that. She didn't know if she would see the man again. Didn't really know if she wanted to.

Either way, the night was almost over.

Q U A N T U M:

---

^{Lonely Hearts Club | The Point | 10:15 P.M}

The atmosphere was smokey, the music loud and the cheers of the patrons of the club likewise. The lights were flashing to the rhythm of whatever the DJ of the night was playing on the dance floor, the bass loud enough to make the entire building shake. Others spilled drinks made the floor sticky as his black boot made it's way back to his booth in the back of the bar floor of the club, from where he could sit – like he did every night, watching the people out on the floor dancing. The waitresses were making their way past him, their tight skirts or cocktail dresses were always a pleasure to see. Club Gomorrah was the most infamous club in all of Lonely Hearts district, and like the dark twin to club Nevermind. Inside of the club one could find more criminals than you'd find in any of the jails in all of Crescent City. The owners were shrouded in shadows, but all that was known for sure was that the cops didn't dare to touch the place after it opened during the early parts of the past decade.

He tried to get contact with a waitress, and she quickly made her way over to him, bending down excruciatingly.
“What can I do for you, Marcus?” She asked him, knowing his name from the nights previous he had been at Gomorrah – which was just about all of them.
“Oh so many things, Kandy. I'll have a glass of whiskey, bottom shelf, none of that fancy stuff.” He told her with a sheepish smile and she giggled.
“You do strike me as a man who's a fan of the fancy stuff, Mister. One glass of non-fancy whiskey coming right up.” She cooed at him, acting coy. Marcus leaned back in his seat, checking his phone, a crack running up his screen and splitting into countless smaller cracks on the upper half of the phone. Four texts. All from Lisa. He ignored them, for now.

He peered for Kandy, whom he noticed was getting groped by two middle aged men, putting their hands all over her in ways that while not against the policies of the club, nothing was – they were against the gentleman's code. Marcus made his way over there, peeling the older man's finger off of Kandy's ass, earning him a look from the patron who's second-basing Marcus had interrupted. “Who the fuck are you?!” He asked, and Marcus smiled.
”A man waiting for a drink. You're holding up my waitress. I'm a high functioning alcoholic, I get antsy when I have to wait too long.” He retorted, looking as smug as possible, he turned to Kandy. ”You OK?” She nodded, while avoiding eye contact with him – or the other men.
“Hey, asshole!” The gentlemen told him, as they had gotten out of their booth standing face to face with Marcus. “You want a drink so bad? Here you go.” He said, throwing his half-finished drink on Marcus. The drink stained his T-shirt he put finger into the wet spot on his chest, and then promptly tasting the liquid that had been misplaced on his clothes.

”Pink Panther? You flirting with Kandy to try and make your boyfriend over there jealous?” As he finished talking, the man threw a punch into his face, hitting him in the cheek, he winched.
”I was raised catholic – turn the other cheek.” Only to get punched again.
“Had enough?!” The guy shouted and Marcus shook his head
”Come on, you're a big boy, can't you hit harder than that?” This time the uppercut sent Marcus onto the table behind him, which he fell down from, resting his back against the side of the booth.
”Now, that's a punch. That how your daddy beat you?”
The guy spit on him, before walking away, grumbling something about “Crazy city folk.”

Kandy grasped in horror, as she sat down next to Marcus, touching his face, wiping blood away with a handkerchief from his lip.
“High functioning alcoholic? I've seen your tattoos, you're a soldier, you could've beaten up those guys.”

Marcus smiled and looked into her blue eyes.
All right. High functioning might have been an overstatement. He chuckled.

---

The resounding of shot drove the rats back into the darkness. Claire held off the temptation to fire into the scattering crowd. Even in her rage, the woman knew that wanton murder wasn't going to make the city any better. Tempering her fury, Noctis lowered her firearms and allowed the human filth retreat. They would live to kill another day, no doubt. 'It doesn't matter.' Claire reminded herself, her ears still ringing from the thundering of her pistols moments earlier. 'They aren't my problem.' She hadn't set out that morning planning to hunt down thugs and criminals. Claire had merely happened upon the scene and decided to intervene to help...whoever this was, out. Where they went after her strike or what they chose to do was of little consequence to her personally. Someone else might have to deal with them, sure; but Noctis had other priorities. The sun wasn't going to rise for a couple of hours, so the young Venari huntress still had a few hours to kill before she got to sleep. That probably meant more wandering the rooftops hoping to come across signs of supernatural activity. Her late night activities for the past eight months had turned the college aged girl into a nocturnal creature. It was a rare sight indeed to see the woman up and about before the clock struck three PM.

Claire lazily turned her mind away from what she was going to do with the rest of her night. There was a body to deal with. It was...strange. She had expected her reaction to ending a life to be so much more visceral. Quinn had imagined her legs growing weak, her heart racing and her stomach threatening to send bile up her throat. Kletus had told her a thousand times how awful it was to kill a man, or something resembling a man. She had been mentally preparing herself to fight off the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow the horrific event. She was supposed to wake up in a cold sweat every night for months, her victim's face plastered behind her eyelids every time she tried to shut them. Guilt was meant to slowly consume her, devouring her naivety and innocence until Claire was nothing but an empty shell of a human being. Death was supposed to hold weight. Yet, Claire found herself staring at the water soaked corpse of the gangbanger and feeling...odd. The smell was revolting, like the man had defecated himself. There was a certain lightness in Claire's chest that she couldn't immediately explain. Her heart was certainly pumping faster.

But Quinn didn't feel some enormous weight for ending the man. He was a murderous bastard that had tried to beat a girl about Claire's age near to death. He didn't deserve any of Claire's pity. The burden she'd expected never came. His face was forgettable. The cries of pain he and the others she had shot had fallen on mostly deaf ears. It took a long moment for Claire to realize how she felt about the whole thing. It only hit her once she noticed the upward bent of her lips. The gesture was subconscious and very slight. She was smiling. Claire was staring at the body of a dead thug she had shot and she was smiling. It wasn't a grin from ear to ear, nor was it burdened by any regret or bitterness. Her heart wasn't pumping from fear; Claire was excited, thrilled even, by the adrenaline that came with the kill. 'What the fuck is wrong with me?'

It was only after her introspection lasted a moment or two too long that Claire noticed the vigilante was staring at her. She'd gotten so caught up in the moment, Noctis had forgotten that not everyone had scattered into the night after she arrived. It was difficult to determine anything about the woman. Her attire did well to hide her identity. The only things Claire could truly make out were her short stature and gender. The stranger was likely a Hyperhuman, too, based upon her miraculous survival through the fight with only minor wounds. She was able to fight off multiple grown men with what looked like sheer strength and little finesse or martial skill. It was dumb luck, a Hype gene or some kind of supernatural ability that allowed someone of her size to do what she had done.

Then the girl opened her mouth. The words that left her mouth confused Claire. She didn't sound grateful, like Noctis had been expecting. She didn't give some kind of corny joke like one of those comic book heroes. The super strong fighter sounded utterly terrified. Fear laced her question like a poison, sinking into her every syllable. It caught Claire off guard. "What?" It was a dumb response, considering she had heard loud and clear. This person had thrown herself into a crowd of angry gangbangers and gotten her ass thoroughly beat for it. She would be dead without Claire's intervention- or, at least, still stuck fighting a dozen opponents twice her size. Claire furrowed her brow at the 'how could you' bit. It actually made her kind of angry. This idiot was actually trying to talk down at Noctis for saving her life. "Why? Why not?" Disbelief mixed with irritation in Claire's response. She took a step closer to the vigilante, sliding her guns back into their holsters to avoid looking like a threat.

"Those guys were going to kill you if I didn't do something. You're welcome, by the way. What are you even doing picking fights with these guys? What, do you think you're some kind of fuckin' superhero?"

---

“Wake up Gavin, my turn to take a nap”

“wha… has it been an hour and a half already?’ Gavin said as he slowly rose from his slumber. Most of his days on tour were like this. Long drives in a vehicle specifically designed to gather explosives does not do much to alleviate boredom after the novelty of the idea wears off, at least there is the occasional shotgun to IED. Of course it’s less a shotgun and more a tube filled with pellets on a tripod that you activate at a safe distance, but it is the closest anyone will get to shooting a bomb (and with all limbs intact!). That occasion, unfortunately, is few and far between.

The radio then cackled with life. “I marked an IED around the corner, but be careful the road kinda …” it said as the modified Humvee known as a ‘buffalo’ got stuck. Gavin then grabbed the radio “Kinda late for that Jerry. The buffalo got stuck, someone come over here and tow us out. I’m going to rake the bomb up first though. I’m right next to the marker.” As Gavin pressed a few buttons a large metal claw unfurled from above the vehicle and was guided towards the bomb.

“Hey Gavin…” Tim said, sitting next to Gavin. “Isn’t it odd that nobody is in this village?” As Gavin looked around, he recalls that he never saw anyone else around. While not all the Iraqi’s particularly liked coalition forces, it did seem out of place that there were no signs of life. Not even any livestock, it seems as if the entire village left hours ago...

---

---

“Finally on the outside of Crescent City. Assuming, of course, the storm is not having some anomalous effect on my map” Gavin said holding a device in his hand with several functions. The object had several buttons and dials one of which, indicates it is set to displaying a topographical map of the area dated 17 years ago. “A part called… The Whispering Woods? I don’t hear anything… I guess the wind needs to pick up more or is there a specific area…” I imagine a career dealing with explosives has dampened our hearing…. We hunger. Gavin’s stomach began to grumble soon after. “So it would seem. Well Beithíoch, I’m sure we can find deer or something in this forest.” But deer is so boring, can’t we hunt something more fun. Like a lion or a bear! We should find something that has claws or sharp teeth. “Well, I Don’t think we’ll happen upon a bear or a especially a lion anytime soon. These forests usually come standard with deer. The occasional Bambi. Besides, meat is meat. Some may taste better than others, but I prefer to not eat the ones that scream… Unless they piss me off enough.”

After a few more minutes of walking, Gavin finally saw what he was looking for. Tracks of deer. Two adults and a fawn by the looks of it. A few more minutes and he found a lone buck drinking from a pond. Seems the other two were separated by time. No matter, this one would sustain Gavin for two or so days at least. More if he avoids having a Ríastrad, though unlikely given his history and the crime he hears that plagues the City. Gavin crept slowly from downwind so as to keep his scent hidden, and luckily tall grass kept Gavin hidden from view as well. When Gavin was a few feet from the buck, he leapt forward intending to wrap around the buck as it struggled and thrashed about, trying to break free with such an intensity it would injure lesser skilled hunters. Gavin however, was not a lesser hunter. A matter made much more evident with his hype-gene.

After a brief struggle, lasting merely seconds, Gavin thrusted a hunting knife deep into the chest cavity piercing the buck’s heart. With all his skill, Gavin was able to make a quick kill, lessening the duration of the pain the buck would face if the knife missed the inertial target. Even with creatures that are not human, Gavin prefers to lessen the sorrow. It feels better for his conscious, or so he thinks. He hasn’t felt it in a long time. After a few minutes of feasting, consuming nearly the entire Buck, he left. Leaving the carcass to scavengers, he began walking a ways to find an ideal spot to make his first of several camps. “Now, the fuck are we doing here Beithíoch? What did we sense in this area?”

---

---

The history of the Draoi is one written in blood. It is the blood of the Tree of Life and Death, drunk by the first of our order. It is the blood of our ancestors, who were slaughtered and bled like pigs to feed the horrid rune-magic of the Venari. It is the blood of the sacrificial lambs, those unfortunate few of us who were deemed worthy only to be sacrificed to produce a new, di

A heavy knocking rattles the door in its frame, shocking Anton Lindquist out of his scholarly stupor. He starts, accidentally dragging his pen in a line over what he had already written. He growls, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes as the knocking continues. Interrupted yet again. "It's open, Jerry," he says, pushing himself away from his small desk. His room in the small apartment in the area of Crescent City affectionately referred to as the Narrows is compact and filled with what little Anton could carry with him during his escape from the family estate a month ago. Mostly books, many of them merely recreations of ancient tomes, but a few rare and dusty originals. The ones he couldn't bear to leave without.

The door opens, with some difficulty. The entire apartment seems to have been built on a slant, and the doors tend to stick in the frame, requiring more force than should be necessary. Jerry Griffith, a short, round man with dark curls on his head and a bad goatee around his mouth, stomps into the room and drops a leatherbound book on Anton's desk. "Dude, I've told you. Stop. Leaving. Your books. Everywhere. Around. My apartment," he says.

"I'll remind you that, since I am paying rent, that makes it our apartment," Anton replies, turning his attention to the book that Jerry had rudely returned to him. "And I'll ask you to please treat my things with more care."

"Then stop fuckin' leavin' 'em everywhere!" Jerry says, gesturing widely with his hands. "How the fuck'm I supposed to make quote if I've gotta move your shit to get to my shit?"

"Quota."

"Huh?"

"You mean quota, not quote."

"What the fuck ever. Just quit leaving your stupid books in the common room, a'right?"

"I find it funny that you're getting upset at me for forgetting a book or two out there every week, when your 'weed farm' has dominated the room for the past month."

"That's my livehood you're talking about. It'd be on the roof if it wasn't for this fuckin' rain." He gestures at the window. After so long spent in Crescent City's constant downpour, the sound of rain had become background noise to Anton, but it comes rushing back to meet him as soon as Jerry pointed it out. It's so distracting that he doesn't even notice Jerry's faulty vocabulary. "'s bad for business, I'm tellin' ya." Jerry sniffs, disapprovingly.

"I'm certain it is," Anton agrees, if just to get Jerry to stop talking. "The fact that you're still here suggests you have something else to talk to me about."

"Now that you mention it, yeah. Mind stepping out for a little while? Manda's coming over, and not to brag or nothin', but it might be getting a bit noisy." He pushes his pelvis forward as punctuation.

Anton successfully fights off the urge to roll his eyes and make some quip about stepping outside for a five-minute smoke break. "Fine, fine. I was planning on going for a walk anyway." He stands up, towering over Jerry even with his hunched-over posture.

"'Preciate it, brother. Mind picking me up some Camels while you're out?" Jerry asks, as Anton pulls on his dark overcoat and collects his cane and umbrella.

"Not until you pay me for the last pack," Anton says, ushering Jerry out of his room on his way out. He roughly pulls the door shut, needing two attempts before the door fits properly, and edges around his roommate's leafy green weed farm to get to the front door. "Give Amanda my best."

He's gone before he can catch Jerry's grunted response. He looks up and down the stairwell to ensure that nobody else is coming, and switches his grip on his cane from the dark ebony wood to the ornate, worn gold head. The circuit is completed, and he feels the tingle of the Vis running through him. He sighs at the familiar, reassuring feeling. He was always aware of the Vis, but like the unending rain, it was like background noise, something that he knew was there just on the edge of his awareness. But with the conductive metal in his hand, it was that much harder to ignore, and it flowed through him and into the cane, buzzing in what he could only think of as its desire to be released.

Anton formed the mental image of what he wanted the Vis to do, and let it flow from his core, down his arm, into the cane, and then out. If anyone had been watching, they would have seen Anton simply vanish from the stairwell without any fanfare. No sound, no flash of light. He's simply gone.

A paltry fraction of a second later, Anton reappears in a dimly-lit storage compartment five blocks away from the apartment. He sets his umbrella down in the corner; he didn't necessarily need to bring it, but it was necessary to continue the lie that he had gone on a walk. Teleportation was far, far more efficient, but it was also as far from the norm as it was possible to be.

Anton shrugs off his coat and lays it on the workbench. Materials cover the wall behind it, mostly sheets and loops of copper. With his limited budget, it's all that Anton can afford at the moment, but not all that he has. He pulls at one of the sleeves of his coat, and fingers the three gold buttons at the cuff. It's taken a few weeks of practice with the copper to get to this point, but he thinks it's finally time to do something a bit larger.

With a small pair of scissors, he cuts the first of the gold buttons off the sleeve - he can sew it back on later - and begins to focus. He imagines a shield, and presses the mental picture into the malleable metal. The Vis begins to flow out of the room around him, through Anton, and into the button, soaking it with the energy. Even as the enchantment is slowly applied, Anton's mind is working, dictating the writing that Jerry had so rudely interrupted.

The history of the Draoi...

T O B I A S E V A N S:

---

Tobias arrived to the staccato of gunshots in the air and the bewildering flash of red and blue lights. A shootout had developed in the time of him receiving Lucio's text and getting back to the warehouse. 'Great, more mess to clean up.' He thought. Tobias pulled up just before a police barricade positioned immediately after one of the four bridges that connected the entire docklands to the rest of New Alexandria. The officers stationed at the barricade had noticed him and one of them began walking toward his car. Tobias opened the glove box, grabbing a silenced FNX-45 Tactical. He wasn't a big fan of guns but he wasn't opposed to them either. The Society's training had made him all too familiar with their use and he was very proficient with them when the time called for it. Unfortunately for the officers guarding this barricade, that time was now.

As he stepped out of the car, an officer approached him flashing a torchlight into his face. "I'm sorry, sir. But this area has been closed off due to an ongoing police shootout. You'll have to turn a-." The cough of his silenced weapon cut him short. Two to the chest, one to the head. The 'Mozambique Drill,' a staple technique of his training. By the time the other three officers had noticed the murder of their colleague, Tobias had fired off consecutive shots whilst moving forward in a crouched run in order to assist his aim. Each shot struck out like whisper, downing their respective targets. In a matter of moments the officers were dead.

Tobias recovered from his run and proceeded to pass between the blockade of police vehicles. The torrential downpour had mostly suppressed the sound of the commotion. A radio, still attached to one of his victims, erupted in static before a voice issued out orders to other officers in the area. "Listen up. We have reinforcements arriving in five. Once they get here, we go in and end these bastards! Until then, everyone keep your heads down. Lieutenant Anders, out." Tobias clenched his jaw. The situation was spiraling out of control. He needed to do something and fast.

Pulling out his phone, Tobias called Lucio on speed-dial. After a few rings, Lucio picked up. "Boss, what took you so long?" He sounded exhausted, his earlier injuries coupled with the shootout had taken its' toll on him noticeably.

"Traffic." Tobias replied. "But that doesn't matter, I want the entire docks on lockdown as soon as possible."

"Got it but it'll take some time to setup. Also, what about the livestock?" Lucio asked.

"What about it?"

"Well one of the cops were saying about a hotel job earlier tonight. They traced the van with the livestock via CCTV footage to this location." Tobias preferred his men refer to any kidnapped females destined for life in the illegal sex trade as 'livestock'. It helped not to think of them as daughters, sisters & cousins.

"How awfully efficient of them." He replied, surprised at how quick they'd located the van. Normally, due to the extensive reach of Raul's payroll, any crimes committed by the De Vitis organization went along either unchecked or had their investigations hindered exceedingly. This one in particular, however, had been fast-tracked almost. At least it felt that way and now his warehouse was the subject of a police raid. Tobias' thoughts flashed back to his earlier conversation with Sasha about the rat. "Let me handle it." Tobias then hung up.

He grabbed a police radio from the nearest dead officer then cycled around the block of warehouses away from where the police had setup their make-shift command center. There were a few backdoor entrances into the warehouse and one secret entrance that he'd kept to himself. He needed it for these exact situations. It didn't take him long to find the entrance. An old maintenance corridor that was accessible via the small canal system which divided the docklands into blocks. The corridor led to a series of maintenance hatches that opened into the basement areas of several warehouses in this block. The corridor had been out of service for a long while when he'd originally stumbled upon it, but since then Tobias had made sure to have its' existence scrubbed from the Official City Records. Which is why the CCPD had no idea that they could have sent in a SWAT team to secure the warehouse this way.

Tobias eventually emerged through the hatchway into the basement of the warehouse. There was no one else down there as it was mainly used for storage. He could hear voices from above. From the sounds of it, his men had managed to purge the building of any police presence and were currently reinforcing the perimeter. Tobias began to climb the stairs that led out of the basement, he needed to be in his office before he could enact his plan. When he stepped through the door at the top of the stairs, he was met with several guns trained on his person. The men that worked under him hadn't expected his sudden arrival, naturally. "Easy boys." He said, raising his hands. "I'm here to bail you guys out of the shit." Looks of relief washed over his men. Despite a somewhat rocky start to his tenure as an Under-Boss, Tobias had become a man they could depend on.



"Attention officers of the CCPD." Tobias spoke into the police radio. "This is Jorge De Vitis, owner of the warehouse you are currently assaulting and I am advising you to stand down." His decision to give a false name didn't come easily. Since coming to Crescent City, Tobias had wanted to keep his true identity a secret in order to protect his affiliation to the Society. Due to how quickly he'd been integrated into the De Vitis organization, however, there wasn't enough time to setup an established alias for use within the organisation. As such, Tobias was forced to remain low during his first few months as an under-boss, whilst he spent time inventing a cover that could be used when associating with people outside of the De Vitis syndicate. Tonight would be the night for him to reveal his alias; Jorge De Vitis. A supposed cousin of Raul De Vitis and a relatively new Boss. It wasn't his best work, but it'd have to do given the circumstances.

"This is Lieutenant Anders, commanding officer of this CCPD operation and we do not take orders from the likes of you." It was the Lieutenant from earlier. He seemed far too brash to be able to bargain with but Tobias would try nonetheless.

"No one said anything about issuing orders, Lieutenant. I'm merely advising your best course of action. You're still in charge here."

"Well I'd like to advise you on exactly where to stick your 'best course of action'. How the hell did you get on this channel anyway? This is a secure frequency!" Looks like he'd need to be more direct.

"I killed four of your men stationed after the eastern bridge and acquired one of their radios, naturally." He said, very matter-of-fact-like.

"You bastard! They were good men. Do you think telling me that is gonna make me stand down now?"

"Easy, Lieutenant. Let's not be hasty and think about the situation." Tobias spoke calmly then nodded towards Lucio, who was waiting on his mobile nearby. "I'm going to tell you exactly what's going to happen now." Sounds of rumbling thunder could be heard coming from all around outside. Tobias moved towards his office window and watched as the eastern bridge, one of the four bridges connecting the docklands to the rest of the island, began raising up. "You see, these docklands are under my control. I have just raised all four bridges, preventing anyone from coming or going by vehicle. Not only that, but I also have control over the water locks that regulate the canal waterways so exit by boat is futile. And finally..." The entire docklands went dark in an instant, as power to the streetlights and every other building were turned off. Shouts of confusion could be heard coming from outside. Tobias' plan had been enough to cause panic amongst the Lieutenant's men. "You and your men are trapped here without any chance of backup, Lieutenant. Do you really want to die like this?"

The channel was quiet for for a few minutes. Tobias suspected that the officer in charge was trying to regain control of the situation somehow. But it would be impossible. Without backup from the mainland, the De Vitis numbers would easily overwhelm that of the CCPD officers stuck here. It would only be a matter of time before they were all wiped out. Eventually the Lieutenant replied, "Fine, you win this time."

"Good. Now, run back. And give the Commissioner this message: His time is almost up."

---

---

---

---

---

---

The sweeping had been done within twenty minutes of finding the broom, after a brave venture into the supply closet. Elwood didn't receive a single member of the public - not even curious and naive tourists drawn in by the glittery (and often counterfeit) 'relics'. He received no calls from anyone, let alone the oddly-named 'Mr. Mulligan', and the brass cupboard, in all its gleaming glory, would threaten to blind a man from fifty paces were the sun available to shine. All in all, Elwood found himself bored for much of his afternoon, lacking in sufficient distraction from his Hunger.

Elwood chewed his fingernails to the quick - a frustrated, fidgeting gnawing born out of boredom and poor self-control. The Hunger ached within him, whetted from the earlier sandwich, and he hungrily eyed the diner across the street, desiring thick meats and dense breads. The clock ticked by slowly, Elwood keeping a feverish eye on every motion made by its hands; eventually, five'o'clock ticked around, and Justin fumbled with the key as he tried to keep hold of it while donning his coat. He busied himself theatrically for a few minutes, allowing a final opportunity for any last-minute customers, and then carefully walked through the store's displays and out the front door, turning around to lock it behind him. The key slid neatly into the lock, and Elwood was on the precipice of applying torsion when from inside, the old-fashioned belling of the phone rang sharp through the store.

Elwood froze for a second, listening to the ring peter out before it started up anew, another clanging klaxon that seemed askew somehow, despite no audible difference from any other time the phone rang. He debated for a few more rings, and then made a firm decision - Mr. Lafferty was expecting a call, and the last time Elwood had skipped answering to a seller he had been made to clean the lavatory. He re-opened the door and moved deftly through the shop to behind the counter where the phone hung from the wall. Elwood cleared his throat as his fingers rested on the handset, and he suppressed the violent urge to slam the receiver and flee the shop, pounding the pavement all the way home to his bedroom to lock the door and quietly hyperventilate himself to sleep, plagued by shadowy and ever-present nightmares of ravenous wolves and animal carcasses...Elwood picked up the phone.

"That Lafferty's shack? The Lamp?" Rough voice. Demanding. Slight Irish lilt. Elwood opened his mouth to respond, but all that arrived from his throat was a low, crackling moan. "Jonathan, ya bastard, is that you? Ya scared, Lafferty? Ain't like you, J-man..." There was a menacing undertone, but it was being played off as jokey, a thinly veiled threat disguised as 'banter'. Elwood felt a pang of fear, and a deeper pang of aggression and outrage.

"No!" He suddenly voiced a reply, shocking himself at the sound of his own voice. "...no. Mr. Lafferty's not here. This is...Elwood. I...work here." He held his breath as he waited for a response, and the silence dragged on, like the caller was considering something deeply.
"...you're Lafferty's boy, eh?" The voice was low and unpleasant. "Yeah, he's mentioned his lil' assistant a coupl'a time. Love to meet ya."

Elwood supressed his panic and swallowed. "Do you have business here, sir?"
"Yeeeaaaaahhh....." The voice trailed off before clearing his throat. "I'm an...associate of Mr. Mulligan. Got that gear to shift. Need to set it up."
"Tuesday." Elwood blurted out, his speech fast and desperate to end the conversation as soon as possible. "He can meet next Tuesday."
"Oh sure, sure...Tuesday's fan-tastic. A little earlier, might be nice?"
"Mr-Lafferty-didn't-provide-me-with-any-details-of-his-schedule."
"I'll...pop in then. I'm sure he'll make time for me."
"Okay-thank-you-for-calling."
The voice chuckled. "Oh, you're sure welcome, kid. And listen...if he asks? ...tell 'im Redcap called."

The line went flat and Elwood slammed the handset back onto the receiver, breathing heavily and shaking slightly. He jerked his head toward the door, eyes focusing. Through the glass pane of the store's front door he could see through the rain outside into the transparent plexiglass front of the diner opposite, and through that was a hole-in-the-wall between the counter and the kitchen, and through that were several bubbling slabs of burger patty sizzling away on a hot grill. Elwood could practically smell them as he stormed through the shop and out the door, pausing for a micro-second to lock it behind him. He looked up as he did so, and caught his reflection in the glass. His eyes were going.

He didn't stop himself.

“Why? Why not?” Lisa took an involuntary back step, a physical manifestation of her own confusing, conflicting emotions at the response. Rage. Surprise. Fear. How could someone be so callous at taking a … no, don’t finish that thought.

She hated herself for not finishing that thought.

The woman holstered her guns, moving towards Lisa, who fought the urge to run off into the night, as fast and as far as she could get from this stranger. The only thing that stopped her was the fear that if she did, the newcomer would put one between her shoulder blades. If she was going to get shot, she was going to have the courage to face it, to see it coming. That had to count for something, right?

Lisa swallowed down her terror, and forced herself to remain still, a coldness in her belly that she wasn’t used to threatening to envelop her, her palms so sweaty that they felt wet even compared to the rest of her in this storm. What is that sound? That clattering? Hold on … is that my teeth? Is that my teeth chattering? I thought that only happened in Scooby-Doo cartoons! She clamped her jaw shut, hoping that the woman hadn’t seen that, hoping that the dark had concealed it. Animals attack when they sensed fear. She’d seen that on the animal planet.

"Those guys were going to kill you if I didn't do something. You're welcome, by the way. What are you even doing picking fights with these guys? What, do you think you're some kind of fuckin' superhero?"

‘Some kind of fuckin’ superhero? It was spat out, like an insult. Worse than an insult, even. Like a curse. Like trying to do good in this world was something to be ashamed of. What, trying to change it for the better was some kind of terrible affliction that you should keep quiet about, a fetish you shouldn’t reveal to the world?

Lisa’s fragile fears shattered, giving way to a purer, more stiffening feeling of anger. Fair, maybe tonight wasn’t her finest hour. Maybe her methods could have borne a bit more thinking about. Maybe things hadn’t gone to (admittedly mostly non-existent) plan. Did that really mean that the trigger-happy, gun-toting madwoman was standing on steadier ground? That she had any right to judge?

Fury’s fists tightened once more, her bloodied and bruised knuckles popping and cracking, strange, foreign sounds.

“I was trying to stop them!” She spat, her voice raw with barely constrained emotion. “If they were hurting me, they weren’t hurting each other! I can take it!” She took a step forward and thrust a finger into the gunslingers chest. “I certainly didn’t ask for your help! I didn’t need your help!”

She paused for a second, her eyes widening. Was that why she was mad? Was she really just annoyed because she’d needed this woman to leap off rooftops and come to her rescue. Back to being the sick little girl who needed someone else to protect her from the big bad world? Was she really just angry at herself for being so apparently helpless again, and projecting that anger on to the newcomer.


Then she remembered the man behind her, the one who had fallen. The one with his eyes open to the open heavens. The one who had been left in the street. And in that moment she knew why she was angry, and it had nothing to do with her feeling helpless.

“I certainly didn’t ask you to kill a man!” She said it. It happened, she was right there and watched it happen. She couldn’t ignore the fact, and even is she did, that didn’t mean it would stop being a fact. No, it happened, and there was nothing she could do about it right now. “You’re a monster!”

Intermission..

23:39 - Michaels Nuclear Power Facility -> Power District

---

---

“Thanks for the rescue.”
Vernon didn't respond to the paramedic, even when they shook hands. Truth be told, he wanted to scold the young man for his foolishness, but his attention was focused on the blacked out city, the pouring rain, and the fact that he had groceries in the car. That was going to be a long dark drive back, but Vernon had the distinct feeling that he'd better start driving now. Crescent City was host to all sorts of criminals and now that the power was out? Well, Vernon knew fully what the implications were, and he didn't want to stick around for them plus, his ice cream was in a cooler but it was going to start melting if he didn't get it home soon.

Bongo licked and sniffed at Vernon's hand. "I know, I know, I was just 'bout to get on," Vernon told her, finally tearing his eyes away from the city. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned away from the power plant, then began walking toward his truck. He wondered what the sky would look like tonight if all the clouds weren't in the way. By his recollection, Crescent city was illuminated too brightly to allow for proper sight of the stars... "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Vernon scolded himself-- was he seriously trying to find the bright side of a power outage? With a wince, he rolled his shoulder, and mumbled, "I bet my power's out too..."

---

Two Days Later...

11:42A - 1428 HWY 299, CA - A Trailer

Darkness On The Edge Of Town

---

"You a real piece of work, you know that?"

Letting out a heavy huff, Vernon wiped sweat from his brow, then put the wrench to the bolt once more. Slick with grime and oil, his grip upon the wrench kept slipping, but he was trying not to over-grip the damn thing. Sometimes his right arm, the powerful piece of machinery it had become, overworked simple tasks-- a thing the doctors had told him to come in to readjust if he had problems with. That would mean he'd have to drive into town, deal with a bunch of people, get poked too many times, have his blood drawn for who knows what... Naw. Hell naw. He wasn't going in to no doctor for no "recalibrations" or whatnot. He could control the gear properly with enough concentration and focus.

"Shit," Vernon mumbled. As if on cue, he had bent the steel wrench as he turned the bolt so tight it nearly came apart. "Ah who needs it--" he chucked the wrench off into the wilderness. "Now, stop bein' lazy," Vernon grumbled, stepping away from the machine before him, "And start earnin' ya keep."

Thing was, the generator had done more than earn it's keep, and Vernon knew this very well. It was a piece of military equipment, bought off of a military wholesale lot. For years the generator had acted as the sole power source for his trailer out in Nevada but, since he moved out to these fancy California mountains, he was quite literally back on the grid.

Specifically the grid with the power outage.

Vernon opened up a second panel, exposing a bunch of foggy dials, dirty switches, and unlit lights to the rainy day. Josephine-- the generator-- had died in the middle of the night and he hadn't noticed. Vernon was up around 6am, as he usually was, and had been working on the thing for about five hours straight. To say he'd worked up a sweat was a bit of an understatement. Josephine was running hot every time he managed to get her started-- a few times she'd even threatened to set him on fire. Imagine that, fire in a generator. Vernon laughed grimly at the thought as he threw the primer switch. A yellow wait light lit up, giving him time to ask himself what exactly the hell was up with him and fires?



Wetness?

Vernon swallowed hard then looked down. Bongo was lapping at his hand, desperately trying to get his attention. He remembered to breathe. Suddenly he felt the rain, welcoming and cool. Vernon wiped his brow with a shaking hand, smelled dog spit, then winced-- why did he use that hand? Shaking his head, Vernon looked down at Bongo, then at what she had placed at his feet-- the wrench. She was sitting on her haunches looking awfully proud of herself, so Vernon told her, "Good girl."

He threw the switch on the generator and it whined, screeched, and coughed in protest. Thick white smoke filled the air as Vernon held the switch in place, opened up the side compartment, and shoved his hand in to punch at a box that was connected to a bunch of belts-- look, he wasn't a mechanic.

Good god no, he wasn't a mechanic.

But he knew that if you punched something around enough, unscrewed this or that, replaced that thing with this, maybe possibly perhaps it would work again. "Come on back to life Josie-- don't quit on me now girl," Vernon groaned as he let off the ignition switch. Of all the times for the generator to break down, now wasn't a good one.

Sure he could get the generator started later, Vernon knew that he'd better make a trip out to buy some firewood-- just in case. Things had gotten cold and worse lately. Vernon didn't want to spend time in the dark and the cold. One or the other. Not both. Vernon had made that promise to himself when he got his first trailer. Those were just decent rules of living, weren't they?

So he made his way to his truck, Bongo trailing behind him, then climbed in. See, the good thing about living out in the middle of nowhere was the fact that, more than likely, no one else was going out to go buy firewood. His only hope was that the folks up at the Kilbride Sawmill hadn't actually sold out of dry wood. Vernon absolutely was not down for waiting until the logs dried out, because the rain would probably be done by then.

Maybe.

Possibly.

With a deep long suffering sigh, Vernon turned on the radio, then sat in silence and listened to the song for a beat. How fitting. A song about fire. Vernon chuckled darkly at the sick humor the universe had sometimes. He shifted the truck into gear, then drove off.

---

The strength with which the wannabe superheroine yelled caught Claire off guard. She had expected the vigilante to back down. There was a deep, powerful rage teeming up inside of this odd stranger. It surprised Noctis just how much the woman seemed to care about a couple of worthless scumbags. 'Why the hell does she care so damn much?' The perplexed huntress thought to herself, unable to grasp how someone could take heed of such...dogs. That's all that they were to miss Quinn. Nothing but a pack of wild mutts trying to tear each other apart to get at the last scrapes of food left. They were a sad, pathetic lot. But not worth Claire's pity. The city's gangs were too dangerous to show mercy to. If she had half a mind to actually do something about the parasites that infested Crescent City, like the sad idealist in front of her did, Claire wouldn't hesitate to kill them. The prisons were already stuffed full of thugs that would eventually be let out, only to murder, rape or steal again. A single bullet to the head was cheap, effective and irreversible. The evils of the world were better eradicated than simply pruned and then allowed to fester and regrow. That was how the Venari had taught her to see the world. Death was the most effective means of protecting the lives that mattered.

But none of that was Claire's job. She wasn't a vigilante. She didn't work for the city's incompetent police force. Claire was a hunter in the Order of the Venari, and one of the last defenders against the encroaching darkness. She couldn't waste her time dealing with petty criminals. 'Even if I haven't seen a damn thing for months.' Noctis grumbled internally. Hellions and Draoi posed a far greater danger to the world as a whole than any mobster or street thug ever could. If even a single one slipped past the Venari's guard, everything could be compromised. One crazed magician showing himself to the world at large had the potential to destroy everything they had worked so hard to protect. Every single mage, monster and 'At least, that's what Kletus says.'

Claire started to prepare her responses to everything the other woman was saying. She waited, listening to every misguided point the vigilante brought against the Venari huntress. Her worldview was laughably idealized and her moralistic crusading didn't belong in the real world. That line of thinking is what got good people killed. The scum of the earth didn't deserve protecting from one another; they should be left to fight, so that there's less of them left to attack innocents when the dust clears. Mutual destruction of both gangs would have improved life for that neighborhood drastically. Now that this moron had let them go, they would return to plague the good people of Los Paradiso again. She didn't need Noctis's help? 'Ha!' Before Claire jumped in, the vigilante had only just got up from a horrible beating. She was surrounded, out numbered and unarmed. No amount of endurance, strength or tenacity would overcome the sheer number disadvantage. Claire had saved her life; she was sure of it.

“You’re a monster!”

"H-huh?" Claire blinked. The indignation the Venari had felt faltered. 'She really thinks I'm...a monster?' Noctis's angry, furrowed visage splintered into confusion. She was so sure her actions had benefited this vigilante, and society as a whole. One less gangbanger and a still living hero was a net gain for them, right? Yet Claire couldn't shake how that simple, singular word had effected her resolve. "No I'm not." She responded with a frown, glancing over at the corpse of the dead man. "He is. I...I kill the monsters." Her voice was more reserved now, her tone lacking the edge it had possessed when they first began to argue. Was it possible that Noctis was wrong? That she was the one with the twisted view of how the world worked, and not this person she'd just met? The stranger spoke with conviction. She really believed what she said. It was enough to make the Venari question herself. It made her look into her heart, glancing at the darkness that touched her soul.

The words of her mentors came rushing in like a tsunami, drowning out those thoughts. Her introspection drowned in a sea of stubbornness, bringing back Noctis's earlier sneer. "You don't get it." The young woman growled. "This isn't any place for someone like you. The world is dark, it is cruel and the only way to fight it is with everything you have. You're just going to get yourself killed if you try this shit again, okay? So...Go home, hero. Take off that stupid outfit and go home before you die. There are better ways to help than trying to shove your stupid morals into a fight. Go home."

With those words said, Noctis pulled her scarf up higher on her face and started off at a walk toward a nearby alleyway. She didn't want to confront that idiot any longer. There was more of the city left for her to patrol.

---

“I’ve seen enough movies to know this is the part where we get ambushed.” John said jokingly. Ever the clown of the group, he could always be relied upon to diffuse the tension or ease the anxiety the group would face on their runs. Unfortunately, fate decided to turn jest into reality.

“Much as I’d like to come back a war hero and with a purple heart, I’d prefer the usual clearing of ordinance that does not shoot back at us”

As the buffalo tore through the ground, slowly of course so as not to trigger the bomb, a device became visible.

A curious relic, the object was a metallic container about one foot wide and three inches long. It did not look like the usual explosives Gavin has cleared before, made much more apparent with an interesting marking. On the side, in some kind of illuminous paint, was labeled ‘Dr. Thrax’

Gavin paid little attention as he continued digging. After a little more effort, more information emerged. The device was not alone, it had wires connecting it to other unseen objects buried in the sand. Trusting in the durability of the vehicle, Gavin elected to continue yanking it out of the ground. As time judged, this was a deadly mistake. The removal of the device did not produce the thunderous sound of explosions as expected, but the distant hiss of a gas escaping a container.

This left Gavin, and the others, confused even as they noticed a malignant yellow cloud forming from the outside towards them. It was not until they breathed in the virulent air that the reasoning behind this trap dawned upon them.

Gavin began hacking violently as the gas irritated his respiratory tract, causing immense pain. His eyes began to water, in a vain attempt to stave off the gas. In an attempt to find fresh air, Gavin opted to make an immediate escape of the metal tomb that engulfed him. He didn’t make it far as he began to lose consciousness from the pain he felt. The last thing he remembered was a glimpse of movement in one of the structures and the crackling heat of the gas.

“… Wait a minute, mustard gas does not produce heat, or crack like a fire. Oh god, I’m dreaming it again!” Gavin realized as he woke up.

---

---

‘Remembering the event again? Do you remember ripping through their flesh? Do you remember the rage empowering us? I liked how they tasted. Say what you want about mustard gas, but it does add an interesting flavor. Or it might have been their fear.’

Gavin was silent; he does not like to think back to that point in his life. Time and trauma both have ways of mercifully blurring the past, but it still comes back to him sometimes. There are the occasional gaps in his memory; blank moments, skips, and inconsistencies. No doubt subconsciously made in order to protect what sanity he had left. It felt rather lovecraftian, but isn’t that what his life is now? Just one long tale of horror, a tale of man trapped in his body with a monstrous personality occasionally taking control. Lovecraft’s tales never ended well. All the notable characters would perish or lose their sanity, living only to ramble in a mental ward. At best the crises would merely be delayed, but never stopped.

Would Gavin’s tale end any better? For a moment, he pondered the idea of trying to remember the blanks, which is probably why he is dreaming. He must be trying to connect the fragments of his mind and form a solid picture. Maybe it would give him some sort of conclusion, maybe if he can remember; it could ease the torment he feels. He decides not to however, Gavin is ultimately afraid of what he might remember. Afraid of his fears being confirmed.

… I like how they tasted, Gavin found himself salivating at the thought of this. Horrified at the prospect, he diverted his attention elsewhere. He tried to find something to occupy his thinking when he noticed an unusual light in the distance. It flickered and wavered unlike man-made illumination, more like a fire. Briefly searching his brain, he remembered some sort of store or other in that direction. Probably a sawmill considering the proximity to the forest. Someone might need help extinguishing the flames. More importantly, the flames can’t spread through the forest. It might burn his refuge, the only other place far enough from the city he could hide (in the case of certain events), and close enough to go to the city in a reasonable amount of time would be the desert. Gavin didn’t much like the idea of going back to sand. Starting with a walk toward the source, as he was not sure he was commited, eventually became a run as he began to felt convicted in his ability to not harm anyone.
‘I don’t like the idea of fire…'

‘What, when has fire ever stopped you?’

Beithíoch made a sound that Gavin swore seemed like a chuckle ‘Despite not being the one with the organs, It seems I am the one of us two that can have a ‘gut feeling’, how does that make any sense?’

’Our skin occasionally becomes immune to bullets, we have an extra organ that produces a radioactive isotope in our bloodstream, AND our blood glows through our skin. When did things ever make any sense?’ Gavin thought, though he did began to worry a little. He could not deny that Beithíoch just had this instinct for certain situations. While it is true no natural fire has stopped him before, there must be something… unnatural?

---

"A hit?! On my fuckin' Veronica?!"

Raul De Vitis, head of the De Vitis Crime Syndicate, stood at the head of a table surrounded by his subordinates; bosses and enforcers alike. The Del Fierro's most recent declaration had him riled and emotional. As such, a church meeting had been called to discuss their next plan of action. So far the room was in complete silence, allowing for Raul to rant and rave.

"Do these Mexican fiche know who their dealing with?" He slammed both hands down onto the table, punctuating his question with a bang. Hunched over, he glanced down the entire length of the table, his scowl passing over all of his bosses in attendance, bar one. 'Tobias.' He thought. 'Where the hell is that Black Lotus sonuva bitch?!' And as if somehow his thoughts had been read, a translucent blue figure appeared at the end of the table. Its' likeness matching that of his missing underboss.

"Sorry for being late, traffic was a bitch." Tobias stated. The room erupted in disbelief and anger. His Hyperhuman status was well known amongst the De Vitis administration, most of the men sitting there abhorred him for it. So for him to use his ability in order to attend a meeting, and in their holiest of buildings to boot, was practically an insult to them all. Tobias remained silent whilst the other bosses screamed and cursed his name. Raul did too, although his seething expression conveyed the same sentiment as the others. He stood tall, commanding silence from the room as he did so.

"So you think you can just show up here, late, using your fancy fuckin' powers and everything's gonna be alright?" Raul spoke in almost a whisper, though the large hall still managed to carry his voice.

"I think we've got more pressing matters to deal with right now, Boss. Besides, thanks to my work at the Wharves a few days back, the Police have set up a tight net right now. I can't move around as freely as before, so this seemed like the best way to attend." Tobias eyed every one of his colleagues as he spoke, daring them to speak out against his reasoning. If the docklands had been lost to the CCPD two days ago, none of them would have been sitting here at this meeting. Instead they'd be on the run from a RICO charge due to the cops having discovered their entire network of illicit sex trade dealings. His gaze finally settled back toward Raul who was silent for a few moments before he spoke.

"Fine. You get a pass, this time." His anger seemed to ebb somewhat though his scowl remained. "Now that we're all here, I wanna know everything about those bastard Fierro's." It had been a full day since the hit order had been announced. Tobias looked toward the Russian, his face expressionless although he expected nothing less. What he didn't expect, however, was to see Veronica De Vitis sat right next to her father. Her expression was hard but fragile at the same time. He could tell she was trying to look unfazed by these recent developments but her slightly puffy cheeks betrayed her lack of fear.

A few of the other bosses spoke up, mentioning the Fierro's movements and a few supposed meetings with members of the lesser gangs. It was a typical move made by their rivals. The larger organizations couldn't simply attack each other outright anymore. Doing so would wreak tremendous havoc upon the city as each side would bring out nothing but their best in order to score the killing blow. Instead, their fighting would be done through proxies such as the Third Street Roughnecks and the Welcome Crew, similar to how world governments fought in Proxy Wars. The Fierro's first move looked to have been arming the Welcome Crew, a move that the De Vitis would no doubt replicate. As one of his leading arms dealers, Raul would naturally choose Tobias to oversee the distribution amongst both the Thirds and the Harbor Kings. His thoughts were brought back to the discussion as Raul spoke.

"Salvatore, I want you to head up the distribution of weapons amongst our allies. We're gonna need them armed and in place beforehand, if we're to strike at the Mexicans first." Tobias blinked in disbelief.

"Wait, what?!" The room turned to address him for the first time since the earlier outburst.

"You gotta problem with the way I'm runnin' things, Tobias?" Raul sneered. Salvatore Raymundo, Tobias' neighboring underboss, rival arms dealer and general pain in the ass. Where Tobias controlled the New Alexandria, Point Bordeaux & Shasta Basin boroughs, Salvatore commanded the boroughs of Crestwood Hollow, Jethrull & Kilbride. And whilst territory disputes were commonplace amongst mob bosses, Salvatore also seemed to have some personal vendetta against him though he wasn't quite sure why. A feeling told him La Petite Mort had something to do with it, as the man attempted to burn holes in him with his glare.

"I mean doesn't Sally have enough on his plate with the recent blackout and the spate of fires going on in his boroughs?" He replied, referring to the recent arsonist that had taken an interest in burning Salvatore's territory to the ground, even despite the ongoing storm. Salvatore shifted in his seat as the other bosses began to murmur. "I figured a man of his stature would've found the perpetrator by now and left them swimming with the Deadman's fish." The underboss bit at that.

"Alright, fuck you! And fuck that damned blackout!" He stood abruptly, brandishing a gun towards Tobias' illusion at first and then in the direction of Jethrull. Tobias merely smiled, having gained satisfaction from the man's outburst. It was exactly what he needed to gain the upper hand in this situation.

"You think that cool head of your's will be alright to handle a trade deal with the Roughnecks? What about the Kings? They wouldn't think twice about icing you if you came at them like that." Tobias said, twisting the knife.

"Ice me?! Is that a fuckin' threat, twinkle-toes?" Retorted Salvatore, referring to the glow of his illusion as he pointed the gun back at him.

"Go ahead, wiseguy, shoot me. Damage your precious Cathedral whilst you're at it." Tobias laughed.

"Alright, that's ENOUGH!" Raul bellowed. He commanded the room once more as everyone fell silent. Salvatore sat down in his seat, stowing his weapon. Even Tobias opted to keep his mouth shut. "Fine. I had another task in mind for you, Tobias. But since you're such a fuckin' smart-ass, now you're gonna have to do both." Salvatore opened his mouth to protest but Raul shot him a glare which silenced him instantly.

"You kno-"

"Keep your goddamned mouth shut!" Raul looked him square in the eye before speaking again. "First, you're gonna make contact with the Thirds and the Harbor Kings. We need to distribute weapons amongst their numbers and place groups in strategic points around the City. All you need to focus on is the gats, I'll have Lorenzo worry about the logistics." Raul said, referring to one of the other bosses sat a few seats down to his left. A man regarded for his excellent strategic ability. There were rumours of a Hype-Gene surrounding him but nothing confirmed.

"Once you've done that, I want your ass here. I don't care what kind of net the pigs have setup, you fuckin' slip through it. I'm putting you in charge of protecting Veronica." Tobias was sure he'd heard him say something else, the disbelief was evident on his face.

"You want me on protection detail?" He asked.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Raul raised his voice once more. "Originally I was thinking of keeping her at the Colosseum, seeing as the place is practically a damned fortress. But on second thought that would be an obvious move and I wouldn't put it past those Mexican bastardi to mount an offensive against it nonetheless." He looked toward his daughter, his demeanor changing as he did so. No longer was he a dangerous mob boss, now he was a merely protective father. "So I'm gonna hand her over to you. Out of all of us, you're the best at keeping a low-profile. Nobody can find you whenever you're on the lam. So now I'm gonna use that to protect my daughter. Most of the others don't think you're up to the task but I have faith. I know you won't fail me, will you?" Raul turned his sights towards Tobias once more. Despite his calm expression, Tobias could sense the raging torrent of anger behind his words. Tobias swallowed and nodded without comment.




"So...you've decided to pay me a visit as something tangible this time?" Caiman was his name, leader of the Harbor Kings. He was an alligator fanatic and had used the skin of such an animal to adorn his leather jacket. "I wonder, does this one feel pain?" He asked, toying with a switchblade as he lent back against the steel pillar of the warehouse. Tobias' Phantasm sat upright in a dark, leather chair. Its' texture similar to that of Caiman's jacket, which led Tobias to believe they were made from the self-same animal skin.

"Feel free to wonder, my friend. But I can assure you, this one packs far more of a punch than any of your guys could handle." He smiled. The slam of a fire exit door interrupted their conversation.

"We'll see." Caiman replied, flashing his set of sharpened teeth. The man truly was a fanatic. "Finally!" He exclaimed, "The wily Third joins us at last!" He flicked his switchblade erratically.

"Might wanna pocket that razor, shark-boy, before someone gets hurt." It was Kyle, one of the older members of the Third Street Roughnecks though still relatively young when compared to the other two men in the room. He couldn't have been a day over twenty.

"Might wanna watch who you're threatening, boy. Or you'll find yourself in deep water for stepping on a log that was actually a 'gator."

"There we go with the 'gator references. Barely five minutes in, can you believe this bitch-ass?!" Kyle replied, turning towards Tobias.

"Alright, alright. Dick measuring is over. Please go back to your seats and wait for the results to be announced." Tobias rolled his eyes. "In all seriousness, though, I didn't call you here for this shit." He said.

"So what the hell did you call us in for, I've got other shit to be doin'?"

"I bet it's something to do with the Fierro's mark on Veronica De Vitis. The whole damned city's been buzzing about it! She's a fine catch too."

"You let us worry about Veronica. All we need you guys to do is take some heaters and stand around in a few places until further notice." Kyle's expression flashed with anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! Stand around?! What the fuck kinda bullshit is that?" He'd begun to turn his back to Tobias by now.

"That bullshit is what Raul needs you to do for him right now, you'll get your next load of bullshit as and when it's needed." But Kyle was already walking back towards the fire exit.

"Nah, fuck that old man. We Thirds do whatever the f-" Tobias had already pushed his Phantasm out of the chair, knocking it over. In an instant, the deep blue apparition had disappeared and reappeared directly in Kyle's path. A hand grasped at the boy's throat, stopping him immediately. With minimal effort, the Phantasm lifted Kyle into the air slightly before slamming him down upon his back, winding the Third. Kyle's yelp of pain echoed throughout the warehouse followed by the thud of his body impacting with the concrete floor. The Phantasm was knelt next to the boy, its' hand still firmly grasping the boy's neck. Caiman did nothing.

"Now you listen here, you little fuck." Tobias growled, his voice low and threatening. "You'll do whatever I say, whenever I Damn. Fucking. Say it. Or I'll come down to your precious Parasio and wipe you despicable insects off the map myself, am I understood?" Kyle could only attempt to resist the crushing force of the Phantasm against his neck. It was futile as only strained gargles could be heard whenever he tried to speak. "I said, am I understood?" Tobias grit his teeth as he spoke, squeezing harder on Kyle's throat. The boy finally stopped struggling against him, his arms had started to go limp. Tobias released his grip, causing him to lurch forward as he gasped for air amidst an uncontrollable fit of coughing.

"Now get out. Lorenzo will be in touch." Kyle said nothing after recovering from Tobias attack, he left without another word.

"Damn. I warned that boy about the log." Caiman chuckled, a jovial tone in his voice. Tobias merely shook his head.

"Meet with Lucio at the usual spot, he'll give you everything you need." Tobias said, already having moved towards the chair to pick it up.

"And the girl?" Caiman inquired.

"I told you already. We'll handle it."

"Like you handled Kyle just then? Gotta admit, I didn't expect a bite that big."

"Can't play my whole hand on the first turn now, can I?" Tobias walked towards the Harbor King. Despite their previous differences and a somewhat rocky alliance between their respective gangs, Tobias and Caiman were pretty solid allies, if not friends. They shook hands before Caiman turned to leave. It was only once he'd reached the fire exit did Tobias speak again. "Oh and Caiman? I'm not playing any of your games this time. The Syndicate are relying on you right now."

Caiman merely looked back over his shoulder before replying, "This ain't no time for games, Tobias. This is War."

---

It wasn't like she was expecting a parade.

In fact, she wasn't expecting much. After all, helping take down a hostage situation and getting gang members who were terrorizing a neighborhood arrested should at least get a commendation right? She also helped save a bunch of women who were under threat of violence. Prostitutes or not, they were forced to be there. That deserved a pat on the back, right?

So why was it that instead of getting at least a high five, she sat in the office of her boss and was chastised like a 5-year-old? On top of that, she was made out to be the bad guy. Last time she checked, she didn't kill anyone. She didn't threaten anyone. She didn't kidnap and extort anyone, so why was she made to feel like that? She wanted to give her boss what for, but she bit her tongue. It wasn't a fight for now and if this is how she would be treated after years of dedicated service, she would just have to make do.

For now...

She had to count her blessings that she wasn't put on probation. Desk duty was a punishment in its own right. She couldn't do much without being on the field. And she needed to be on the field. Recent events made her more aware that something else was going on. She wasn't able to meet Duos afterward, but she saw the destroyed bot in the lobby. It was...interesting to say the least. She knew she had the hyperhuman gene inside of her, but she kept it somewhat hidden. Very few people knew. Was Duos also one? She made a mental note to track him down.

As she entered the detective's lobby, she met a few eyes. There were some that gave her a nod. A nod that said, "You did good work." Others gave her a stare that said, "You walked on my territory. Watch yourself." She wasn't about to sell out Paul, who gave her the tip. She was in the right place and the right time, is all. Paul later told her how thankful he was she was ok and alive. He was responsible for the back-up that came. "What happened?", he asked. She merely said they stopped the bad guys. For today, at least.

Something nagged at her. Surely those guys were part of something bigger. If that were the case...who was it? Someone led that whole ordeal. Someone with power. Someone higher up. Was it the Chief? Could be, it would explain why he was so angry at her, but why not put her on probation right away? To make it look like he isn't? All this gave her a pounding headache.

She had to leave. She had to do the footwork. But she had to be sneaky about it. Paul promised to watch out for her in the office, so when the opportunity presented itself, she made her way out of the office and on to the streets of Crescent City.

The only question now was....what was she going to do?

J O S E P H T H O R E A U: T H I S I S W A R

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^{Monday, April 10, 2017 - 06:48 PM | Apartment 204, La Maison Noire - Milk Street, Pointe Bordeaux}

J O S E P H T H O R E A U: T H I S I S W A R

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^{Monday, April 10, 2017 - 09:51 PM | Rhodes Lighthouse-New Alexandria}

---

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"It was a green light! How was I supposed to know he was just gonna step out into the road?"

"Isn't that what you're supposed to be looking for as a driver?!"

Tobias was sat in a car with Veronica De Vitis, his Boss' daughter, who he'd been tasked with protecting from the Del Fierro Family. After meeting with Caiman, leader of the Harbor Kings, and a representative of the Third Street Roughnecks, Tobias had headed straight back to Little Italy in order to pick up his VIP. It was a job that he wasn't too happy about, truth be told. Sure, Raul was right when he'd said that Tobias was the best at keeping a low-profile, but that skill never actually extended beyond himself. And even then, he'd only need to stay hidden in order to keep himself from getting pinched by the cops or to position himself for an assassination. His Black Lotus training hadn't been meant to be used for protecting others, that was definitely not his calling.

"Well, I've got more important things on my mind right now. Like babysitting you." Tobias replied to her question with a hint of annoyance. He wasn't happy with the way things had played out at the meeting; Salvatore had nearly gained the upper-hand over him with Raul and part of him felt that maybe the De Vitis Boss wanted him to. It was no secret that Raul hadn't been happy with Tobias' sudden appearance but he'd figured that had died down months ago. It was then that he thought back to the police raid two nights back. That van full of livestock couldn't have been at the warehouse for more than an hour or two before Lucio had notified him of the raid. He'd thought it was fishy then, but the way Raul was acting practically could've confirmed it. Tobias shook the thought from his mind, this was merely conjecture. And his head needed to be elsewhere right now.

"Babysitting?!" Veronica exclaimed. "If that's how you feel about this then you might as well drop me off now." She said, an air of sass about her. She obviously wasn't used to being told what to do or caring about how others might feel. Typical of a Mob Boss' daughter.

"You know I can't do that, Veronica. Now just shut up and let me think."

"Aww, trying to play the adult now Tobias? That's cute. But you're barely older than I am." She teased. Tobias wasn't surprised by her change of tone. She was often temperamental towards her father's men. "Where are you taking me anyway?"

"La Petite Mort." He replied, curtly. "I'm...familiar with the owner. She can help me to keep you out of sight."

"And by familiar you mean you're fucking, right?" Tobias didn't answer. "Well that's new, a guy who doesn't brag about his conquests. Maybe you're ashamed?"

"Or maybe you should just leave it alone. It's...complicated." Tobias replied, his mind threw up images of Sasha. Maybe involving her in this was a bad idea?

"When is anything not complicated for you guys?" She laughed. "Honestly, it's a wonder how any woman gets married these days." Tobias turned his view from the road to give her a look. "But alright, I'll drop it. My father would kill you if he knew you were taking me to a strip club though, right?"

"Then let's hope he doesn't find out."



"So you brought her here?!"

Sasha yelled, launching her half-filled glass of wine against the wall of her office. She wasn't exactly excited to be harboring the daughter of Raul De Vitis, especially after the Fierro's had placed a hit on her.

"What part of 'Nowhere-Else-To-Go' confuses you, Sasha?! Please inform me, because I can walk you through it if you'd like?!" Came Tobias' retort, laced with cynicism.

"This isn't the time to be an asshole, Tobias! She's not safe here, the whole damn city will know where she is before midnight!" The look on her face right now wasn't just anger, but fear. She was scared. Though Tobias suspected it was more than just for her own life and that of her staff.

"Being called an asshole twice in one night, and by two different women. Nice going." Chimed Veronica. She'd made herself comfortable on one of Sasha's silk-covered couches, her legs draped over one of the arms.

"Shut it, we haven't got time for your shit." Tobias growled.

"Don't speak to her like that!" Sasha yelled again.

"Yeah, don't speak to me like that." Veronica followed.

Tobias was growing more and more agitated. "ALRIGHT!" He roared. The pair of them grew silent at that. It wasn't often that Tobias ever shouted, so when he did it obviously meant he was serious. Sasha let out a sigh and walked over to him. Tobias, however, had turned away from both of them and was currently staring out of the office window. Sirens blared off in the distance and most of the borough was still covered in darkness from the blackout. Only the larger buildings had back-up generators, usually placed on the roof, that ran on gasoline. Sasha's club was one of the fortunate ones.

"Look, I'm sorry. But she can't stay here." Sasha stated, coming to stand in front of Tobias and snaking her arms around his neck. She gazed into his eyes, searching for a single speck of emotion.

"I know." He said, finally, looking down to meet her gaze. "I didn't want to involve you in this, but there was no one else I could trust."

Sasha changed her expression, as if a light bulb had just switch on in her mind. "Maybe you don't need to?" Tobias fixed her with a confused look. "Trust anyone else, I mean." He still couldn't make out what she was getting at. "Tobias, your apartment?!" She explained. Tobias' reaction was instant, pulling himself away.

"What?! No. No way in hell." He protested.

"Yeah, I am not comfortable with that." Came Veronica's voice.

"Just shut up and listen to me, both of you." Sasha ordered. "Tobias, you needed a place that no one would think of. Your apartment is perfect for that because you're never there." She stepped towards him, grabbing his hand. "You even said yourself that no one knows about it. Not even I've been there." She squeezed his hand now, imploring him to listen. After a few moments, Tobias gave in.

"Fine." He breathed. Sasha's face lit up and she pulled herself towards him, planting an passionate kiss on his lips.

"Ugh. Get a room." Veronica sighed, clearly unhappy with the decision.



Tobias exited the club with Veronica in tow. After a brief change of attire, the De Vitis heiress was now wearing one of Sasha's outfits and a large fur coat. He struggled not to look too much.

"I look like a hooker." Veronica complained.

"You don't look like a hooker. Now stop moaning and get in the damn car." He said.

"Remind me why I had to dress up in this ridiculous outfit again?" She asked as they ran across the road to where Tobias had parked.

"Because no one would expect you to be dressed like a hooker!" He replied. Thumbing the button on his keys and wrenching open the driver-side door, as Veronica clip-clopped around to the passenger-side in her heels.

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said. Now get-" Thud. The world was already spinning by the time his mind registered the object that had struck the back of his head. As his legs gave out and he crumpled to the wet asphalt, Tobias thought he could hear screams. He hit the floor in seconds, unable to respond quick enough but managing to roll onto his back.

Stood above him, a pistol pointed down at his chest, was a young man. His face twisted into a demented grin, with a single, bloody gash on his cheek. “Salvatore sends his regards.” He laughed.

BLAM!