The end of the war had initiated an unprecedented economic expansion, which was in turn italicized by a degree of national self-confidence almost impossible to fathom today. America believed in its future, and as it usually did back then, it watched New York to see how life could be lived.
Expectations are falling short, however, as a smallpox scare threatens the populace's longevity. The government claims to be taking steps to respond, but between the paranoia and pollution following the industries that powered the war machine, some simply choose to wear masks.
Beneath the hurrying streets, where newsboys peddled daily papers, a pristine subway system welcomed 2 billion passengers, the most ever. The price of a seat, or at least a firm grip on a leather strap? One nickel, the 2011 equivalent of 49 cents. At Grand Central every evening at six, New Yorkers with deeper pockets and distant destinations boarded the Twentieth Century Limited along “the quay”—the Twentieth’s own platform, garlanded with a carpet of crimson and gray. At the head of the train, the Henry Dreyfuss–designed beauty of a locomotive strained at its leash, ready to charge west.
New York is never perfect, and it wasn’t in 1947. Residential segregation was ubiquitous; even the new rent-stabilized Stuyvesant Town was closed to hybrids and unmarried 'pures'.
Mayor William O’Dwyer would soon skip town on the wings of a convenient ambassadorship just before a vast corruption scandal erupted in the NYPD.
But the Wonder City, as some contemporaries called it, had never been, nor ever again would be, quite as wonderful as it was in that postwar dawn. Penn Station still soared. Harold Ross still edited The New Yorker. And one of that magazine’s treasures, E. B. White, would soon write, “No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.” In 1947, the luck was here for the taking.

---

Down in the city below the ever growing skyline, through the busy streets and buzz of everyone’s day, a party for some of New York’s higher class was under way. The place, Palladium Ballroom, just above the Rexall drugstore, currently having been rented out for a large dinner of one of the biggest families in the city that never sleeps, the Khalil’s. Their money and business, despite the controversy that hovers over them, still secured them the right to use the distinguished dancehall. There were big names and known bands in attendance, with one of them being an up and coming artist, Johann Wulffe. An esteemed gentlemen from Germany and a fan of American swing and jazz who was trained in classical music, started when he arrived at Ellis Island, playing on the street until someone had come across him. They learned of his musical talents and began putting him through the music industry, starting small with local theatres and small time shows before he started making his bigger debuts, some of which encompassing  his orchestrated style of play. But for today, it was for those who wanted to swing, jive and let loose. The party had been well under way. Laughter, music and chit chat about life were well heard coming from the place. The host of the event took the mic after the final song from the previous group, applauding them as they left the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a round of applause for Benny Goodman and his orchestra!” The next band began setting up. Most of the members in somewhat bright clothes. “Alriiiight now ladies and gentlemen, it's time for our newest and brightest up and comer to the scene. All the way from Germany, it's the one, the only...Johannnn!”

There was no hesitation into the start of the first song. Shortly out came a rather tall figure in a somewhat baggy looking pinstripe suit and his signature fedora, a smoke in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. ”Alright you crazy cats and dogs out there. Arooo...I want you up out of your seat and gliding on your feet. Let that rhythm  Just remember one thing…When you hit the dance floor you better be jumpin jaaaaack~” Segwaying into it, Johann himself began to let the rhythm flow through, tapping his foot while he held the mic, his cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth. He watched as some of those in the hall, mostly the wives, dragging their husbands or boyfriends onto the dancefloor. He glanced through the crowd as the song progressed, even stepping of the stage with the mic to dance with a few people before returning once more to the stage. Amongst the crowd however, he did take notice to a few he seemed to gain an interest for. One in particular was seated at the guest of honor’s table.

---

Elsewhere in the city, in the darker part of it, rested a small tavern called The Hole. To those on the outside, it looked simply like a tavern but in fact was neutral ground for gang members. It helped smuggle guns, drugs and launder money from anyone willing ot pay for their services. Despite its involvement with gangs, it remained low key for the most part, distributing its earnings through legitimate funds, stocks and charities that were handled by other gangs’ investors as well as their owner. Its head bartender, Sullivan, handled most of the services, making sure they were completed in an orderly and time efficient manner. Currently he stood behind the bar, serving drinks to some of the members their.

The sun was in the midst of rising, vibrant pink rose petals drifted eastward from a strong breeze through the crowded streets. A shadowy figure glistened from the light shining through the towering skyscrapers, while sprinting like his life depended on it. Bypassing the dozens of individuals currently facing life a threatening scenario just being in his proximity, ignoring the vulgar epithets coming from the shoulders he grazed. Immediately altering his course and dived through an empty long alleyway that smelled like sweltering sewage. Trying to quickly breath through his mouth to keep from gagging, but his attempt was unsuccessful letting out a muffled cough covered by the featureless mask hiding his facial features. Abruptly halting his movement entirely when spotting the stone wall, turning around with a swift motion purely concentrating on his abilities, before his eyes detected three revolver rounds trapped in mid-air, passing straight by them, pulling multiple knifes out from under his cloak.

Facing a spotted leopard dressed in clothes you'd wear for a funeral, pointing a revolver straight at the figure quickly charging at him. Dropping the gun the instant a blade pierced through the basilic vein in his hand, before getting tackled down to the ground with two blades married to the edge of his neck. Seeing terror displayed in the leopard's eyes, opening his mouth to speak.

“P-Please don't kill me! I have a wife...” The leopard pleaded softly.
“You have the audacity to plead for sympathy when you've been hunting me down like prey.” The figure scoffed within a moment suddenly feeling a long steel chain wrapping around his neck from a lizard outside rushed through one of the doors into the alleyway. However the gold decoration around his shoulders prevented the lizard from restraining the figure and allowed him to immediately duck down and slip out of the chain. The lizard clicked his tongue, as the leopard swiftly pulled out a switchblade from his pocket and slashed straight across aiming at the torso, as the figure suddenly had black wings spreading out from his cloak, before leaping through the air with his wings powerfully flapped downward avoiding the oncoming attack. The figures pointed shoes suddenly flew off revealing the sharp talons underneath, plummeting down before the leopard to get himself back upright. The talons piercing both of the leopard's eyes as blood spurted with a deafening screech.

Within another second turning and heaving a blade straight into the side of the lizards neck which barely stuck into his thick skin. The lizard instinctively stopped moving to grab the blade penetrating his throat wincing from the pain and cursing out. The figure lunged straight at the lizard leaping through the air with a burst of speed from his wings, extending his arm and claw outward thrusting with a powerful shove smacking the lizard against the wall and burying the blade deep, severing his jugular vein. The lizard's last actions were his eyes dilating in shock before instantly collapsing to the ground leaning against the wall. The leopard clutched his eyes, writhing on the ground and shouting out worthless threats being unable to see anything.

The figure dashed past the leopard to the left of the entrance of the alleyway, with blade in his talon suddenly a gray timber wolf rushed past the adjacent building just deep enough to be away from prying eyes. His body was completely paralyzed from movement, unable to aim his shotgun upward. Just frozen like a statue becoming horrified, as he helplessly watched himself getting repeatedly stabbed in his stomach, practically getting disemboweled before the figure grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the dirt. Pausing to catch his breathe and smelling the pleasant aroma before nonchalantly walking up to the corpse of a lizard and digging his talons into his neck to retrieve his blade and put his shoes back on. The leopard somehow managed to stand and fled further back into the dead end. The figure started walking up to the leopard with the extracted blade remaining in his grip.

“You know, I could of just broke your neck within a matter of seconds, but I didn't and do you know why that is?” The figure asked rhetorically. The leopard merely slumped down to the ground blubbering like a baby, “I tried to explain that you had the wrong guy and I never borrowed any of your bosses money, but instead of letting me leave you three decided to chase me across town and risk everyone's life and attempted to kill an innocent man. But most importantly and since you brought up a wife, I'm sure you'll understand the sentiment. You're the fucking one that made me lose my girlfriend's bouquet.” He angrily snapped before plunging the blade straight into his skull and yanking it out. Glancing at the still open doorway, he quickly headed inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

He wandered into a large kitchen, flicking on a switch nearby to illuminate the area. Leaving a trail of blood, immediately heading straight for the long sinks and stripped completely down and placed his clothes into the sink and turned on the hot water and started rinsing the blood from his front and hind talon's then finding a bucket and mop underneath the sink. Starting to clean up the mess, reluctantly grabbing one of the chef's outfits from a rack. Not afforded the time to debate whether or not to get dressed. Once he was fully clothed, he found a large empty potato sack that he quickly tossed all of his clothes in, taking some cash out of his bag and placing it down in a visible spot and leaving the place as ordinary as possible, exiting through the same door.



Nothing else happened before he finally arrived home, entering and letting out a relieved sigh. Setting the sack of clothes in an open laundry bin placed right beside his doorway. Going straight to his fireplace and throwing the chef's clothes in there and letting them burn. He smiled hearing a feminine voice calling out for him in his kitchen. Seeing another female raven, whose beauty was unmatched, sitting down at the kitchen table, her eyes matching the intensity of the sun staring back at him with a wide smile, causing him to smile back at her. The weight burdening his shoulders seemed lifted and filled him with inner peace as he approached her.

“Did you have another rough day love?” His sister questioned in an empathetic tone. He shook his head in response and quickly hugged her, his claws caressing her soft wings.
“When I see your beautiful face, there's nothing that could stop me from smiling.” He said closing his eyes with tears streaming down his face, “I love you sis...” He uttered clenching his sister with his talons, which in reality was a featureless wooden mannequin. Before glancing down at the table, noticing an opened book as he smiled and walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water, just to chug it down in a few gulps.
“You're reading the book I wrote about you again...I guess I don't blame you, it is my favorite story too. I think it perfectly captivates the reader into caring about an extremely complex character, who just wants to be understood and loved.” He stated setting the glass in his sink. He was answered by dead silence before starting to let out cheerful laughter, holding his side.
“Very funny sis, but my girlfriend understands me. Now I have to go buy another present for her, she's probably worried that I forgot my promise to meet her at her place today.” He replied before leaving the kitchen and throwing his clothes in the washing machine and going into the bedroom closet to pull out one of the few extra shirts and his only pair of shorts.
“I hope she's not too upset that I'm going to be late.” Alexander sighs.

…I'm grateful for everything he does for me, it makes me feel normal again. He reminds me of everything you sacrificed for my sake. I love you both with all my heart and I miss you greatly! Appreciate the chocolates you sent to me. Take good of care of yourself uncle.

Peace & Love, Alyssa.

She had finished writing a letter, setting her ink quill down. Gently pushing her chair back and standing up from her mahogany desk and letting out a quiet yawn, before picking up her empty mug etched with a pink hearts in her right paw. Walking on her hardwood floors of her apartment, into the kitchen. The strong aroma of coffee blew by her nostrils, starting to refill her mug with hot coffee. She smiled and set the cup down next to the coffee maker and pressed her paws together and closed her eyes, beginning to whisper to herself then proceeding to enshroud her coffee with sugar packets. Taking it with both paws and drinking, while a rush of sugar filled her mouth.

“Mmm.” She said with a satisfied tone before she heard a sudden firm knocking sound coming from her door. She pranced over toward to door and peeked through the hole, opening her door and letting out a small giggle seeing her boyfriend wearing something ordinary like a white t-shirt and a pair of gray shorts. Alexander was almost embarrassed to be seen with these clothes on, revealing a box of her favorite cherries that he was hiding behind his back. She released a happy squee and took them from his extended talons, smiling brightly, her tail happily swishing back and forth. He returned the smile.

“I'm really sorry that I'm late.” He apologized glancing down noticing she seemingly wasn't wearing anything but one of her over-sized sweaters. She gave him a puzzled look and rubbed her messy, snow white hair.
“Huh? You were supposed to come over today?” She uttered with a tilt of her head. He blinked in confusion, letting out a verbal stammer. Before she shared an unexpected long kiss with him on his beak, giggling a little as she took his talons and lead him inside the house.
“I was just kidding silly, you're forgiven since you bought me my favorite snack.” She says while giving a playful wink. He simply sighed a little and casually stroked her hair.
“You could really use a brush Alyssa.” He teased her while he quietly closed the door behind them. She gave him a pouty lip and crossed her arms.
“Don't wanna.” She retorted while taking another sip of her coffee. They both walked through her place and into her bedroom, he sat down in the dark, on her queen sized mattress.
“Something happen today?” She questioned with her shoulder leaning against her door, being able to smell the scent of blood from the very moment he entered.

“Yeah, but I don't really want to talk about it. How's your uncle doing?” He responded looking up at her, while she smiled and started pulling off her sweater making him look away for a moment, blushing slightly. She set her present and coffee mug next to each other on top of her bookshelf, next to an assortment of pictures.
“You're very cute when your bashful.” Alyssa commented walking up to him, “I am wearing underwear, it's okay to look. I won't bite you too hard.” He simply looked up at her and smiled slightly.
“I can't even imagine living without you...” Alexander uttered with a tear coming down his cheek. Silencing by her putting her paw against his mouth, while wiping his tear away with her other paw and pushing him into laying down on her bed. She laid on top of him and gently held down both of his arms. She gave him another quick kiss.
“You don't have to feel abandoned. You have me and you have god.” She softly said while he held her paws firmly, silently laying with each other for a moment, “And you have your sister too.” She whispered closely in his ear.
“Thank you.” He replied brushing the hair out of her face. She giggled.
“You're quite welcome.” She answered back before sharing another kiss.

Three salamanders in faded trench coats loitered on a sidewalk; while two of them chose to stand, one with their arms crossed, the third indulged in the day's paper while lounging on a bench. 'Crossed-arms' turned his eyes skyward after a silent minute, noting the gentle yet ever-present clouds of the lightly overcast day. "Say anything about the weather?" he asked, immediately getting a response from the one on the bench who looked up before quickly looking up and down the sidewalk. "Cloudy..." he replied.
Standing and leaning against the wall of the apartment the trio waited outside, the third took a drag from their cigarette and sighed. "Hope it rains...I got the niece for the weekend" they mused with the faintest of smiles and shake of their head, betraying the claw scars down the left side of their face. Crossed-arms couldn't help but feed into the most conversation the three have had in the last two hours, "Ah, she's the 'stomping in puddles' type?" which earned a chuckle from ol scarface.

A long shadow turned the corner, the emblem of a converse stepping into frame. After a pause, the figure took deliberate steps forward with an obvious limp.

"Heheh, yeh. Its a mess, but that smile is worth more than the laundry, ya know?" scarface went on with a lifted brow. Cross-arms went back to looking at the sky, "Nawh. I dunno about kids. Cute as all hell, but I'm not sure I'd be much of a father."
"Well, me either. Kinda why I just babysit for the sis-" scarface began in an attempt at empathy before the salamander on the bench noisily turned a page before asking, "And why aren't you back at your place, babysitting?" with layers of bitter skepticism that implied that he was reminding scarface of his reason rather than actually asking a question.
Regardless, it stole the salamander's smile as the glimmer of whimsical thoughts left his eye. "Because uncle Kirk is at work..." he sighed, looking at the cig and the small scattering of butts around him.

"Vaitink for zeh bus?" Luciel asked, sitting down on the bench and leaning forward to fold his fingers. His own coat was tattered and even burnt in some places with the buttons pried off. A tank-top that was mostly tucked into slim jeans was shrouded by the neatly re-wrapped black/green/red plaid scarf. This did nothing to hide the clinking of black metal that chimed as he folded his hands, or how the jacket was irreparably damaged and showed off bits of his arm plating.

The trio fell silent, Luciel watching as the half-burnt cig fell from scarface's lips. "Ahh...just missed eit? Tch~" he sighed, leaning back and sliding his hands up the sleeves of his other arms. "Just my luck...ehm...scarface? Mind if I bum one of those?" the jack asked, making eye contact with scarface as he reached into his pocket for the revolver.
A bit flustered from the turn of events as the one they were on the lookout for had just walked up to them, scar tactlessly hissed, "And why would I give you anything but a quick death?"
The salamander with his newspaper up slowly took a hand off the black-and-whites to fish for the handle of the Thompson he had on his lap.

"Because, uncle Kirk, I vahz goink to burn out paperboy, here's, eye out zehn use him as a shield vehn stargazer got his head out of zeh clouds ehn finally drew his...I don't smoke" Luciel bluntly explained in his bastardized accent which was somewhere between French and German. The cryptically half-explained plan left the rest in a bit of shock since none of the encounter was going as planned, and the freelance hands of The Swamp had heard enough stories of their target to be shaken by the threat.
That was until Luciel decided to wrap it all up; "Zough I may just play eit by ear~" he chirped with a wink and a flick of an ear.

Having had enough of his cheekyness, 'paperboy' leveled his weapon on a knee and squeezed the trigger. A snap followed by a few metallic chimes highly uncharacteristic of the weapon made his eyes widen as he noticed the ghostly black mass writhing in the barrel of the thompson which soon exploded. Before 'paperboy' could even react to the agony of having his hand and knee shredded by the wild munitions, 'stargazer/cross-arms' drew his gun only for it to be kicked out of his hand.
Surprised, he looked from his hand to the gun and then to Luci who laid in mid-air with one elbow on the bench. His other hand on his hip and two ghostly ink-black hands holding him up, the leg crossed over the one that disarmed 'stargazer' lifted to kick him squah in the chops before being brought down in an axe-kick to the top of his head and flattening the salamander to the pavement in what was likely concussion-inducing.
The hands eased Luciel down as he turned to look at Kirk, his gun raised high as his hands shook from a fourth clawed appendage trying the same trick on his revolver as with the thompson.
On that note, 'Paperboy' was promptly sick all over the sidewalk as he rolled off the bench and blacked out from pain.

Luciel looked from him to Kirk and simply held his hands out, the appendage disappearing. "Vell...?" he asked with expectation, though Kirk seemed to have frozen. Disappointedly, Luciel limped over to him with a growl, causing the man to back up into the wall as he realized he had signed up for more than he bargained for. Small as the jack was, he bucked, hooking the revolver from Kirk's hand with his antler and wrenching it from his hand with a small slice to his fingers from the sharpened tips.
"You are a stupid, stupid...STUPID MAN!" Luciel roared, giving Kirk a few punishing slaps across the face before balling his fists and taking a threatening stance. "How dare you get in my way!? Take care of your fucking niece, you pathetic newt!" he spat in what could be considered a racial slur before giving the man a jab to the gut.
While the impact would be about as much as could be expected from someone Luci's size, it was still enough to ice the cake as he slumped against the wall and trembled, holding his hands up to defend himself...while disgracefully wetting his trousers.

Luciel frowned and pulled out his wallet to throw the man two fives before turning to approach the doors to the apartment. "Hail a taxi ehn drag your jackass friends to zeh hospital..." he sighed, feeling bad for the man for not even having the guts to fight back no matter how bad it would have ended, though he had something to live for.

"...Get your niece someszink nice...ehn forget my face."

As he stepped through the doors, Luciel looked around before gritting his teeth and wiping a bit of blood from his nose. He didn't have the mana to make such an example of the lookouts, especially after having essentially come back from the dead once, today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luciel cursed himself for having a room on the eighth story, the stairs were less than inviting due to how he'd pieced himself back together after the crash. To be 'efficient' he had not considered that he would have to walk back home and sacrificed most of his left leg's healing to keep from bleeding out while pulling shrapnel from his chest. Taking the elevator would be too obvious, but Luci was one to have a sense of humor in a cynical sense.
Striking a knuckle against the button for '8F', he patted his legs and made small fart sounds with his mouth to drown out the elevator music. Casually, his attention turned to the wall where hung various notices and posters for events going on in the town. Sports, music events, plays at theaters...not so much the idea of attending as simply finding interest in the artistic renditions of athletes caught in climactic moments, faces of famous people he had no way of even beginning to imagine the name of.

Despondence could find someone so disconnected, but the jack was comfortable with his mild enthuse which he found in the frozen frames, like windows peering into bite-sized pieces of life's significance. Lifting a hand to touch one of the posters, he hadn't noticed how the elevator slowed as it reached floor 7.

A voice screamed over the 'ding' of the elevator as the doors finished opening. Luciel looking up from his fixation just in time for a symphony of pistols to cry out with the percussion of thumps and screeching of steel. Sparks and splatters of ink scattered the wall of the elevator behind him as Luciel held eye contact with the woman.



"How could you!?" she wailed, stepping into the elevator and pulling the emergency stop while one of her two bodyguards held the door. "How could you kill my father!?" she barked as Luci gasped for air, hands over the wounds in his chest which oozed a black goo with the consistency of blood. "H-He...vahz...sellink...-" Luci managed before his head jerked back with a third crack of gunpowder scattered ink behind where drooped ears and snow-white hair pressed against metal.
The body that was once Luciel slumped to the side, smearing ink across the wall before coming to a rest in the corner.

The three would presume him dead, and even as one of the guards threw the emergency switch back down and hit 3F to send the mess back down, but out of sight...the body's teeth grit and the remaining eye narrowed, fixed on the fox before the doors closed.
The nameless fox found comfort in the embrace of one of her bodyguards as the still smoking revolver clattered to the floor.



The elevator came to a rest at floor 3, the doors opening to reveal the gore to the nobody who was otherwise asleep or invested in their business while undisturbed by the silent hum of machinery.
After the chime, a moment passed where the lights in and outside the elevator flickered moments before the door closed, returning to standby.
Black ink, a corporeal manifestation of his will and mana crept across the steel housing of the elevator, seeping back into its home within Luciel who shuddered.

A pop of their fucked knee resetting and the fibula fusing itself to the half-shattered stump, the leg lifted and arched for the toes of their classy converse to rest on the floor. Ink from the wall behind him and arms that reached from his shadow to hoist him up lifted the body of Luciel to stand before demanifesting into mist.
"Cathissssss" Luciel hissed in remark to Derrick's last name, forked tongue flicking as he stood in the darkness of the idle elevator. For a moment, he was simply stunned, gaining a hold on reality as the new swell of mana honed his senses.

For a long moment, he lingered in the darkness, numbly waiting before pressing '8F' once more to send him back up to the prying eyes that had aimed guns at his dead body. He'd hoped that they would have cleared out, but it was only half-truths as the elevator door opened to the muffled sound of crashing glass and furniture being tossed over.

With a jittering shudder, a pool of darkness boiled in the mangled eye socket that was once home to a slug before the twin eye surfaced, blinking away ink while his pupils sharpened to a razor's edge.
Planting a foot into the hallway, Luciel twisted himself in a fluid manner which caused his bones to noisily pop the beginnings of rigor mortis from his joints and lifting a leg high. The cold and stone-faced expression of discontent lifted as he tilted his head back enough for it to come off commically enthused by the idea of people rooting around in his and Theais' apartment.
"T-Trespasser~?" he cooed, grinning as he pressed his hands to his face only to allow the glint of slit pupils and a sinisterly toothy grin. He lifted a foot, turning and pirouetting on the tip of a converse before falling into an expressionless march down the hall only the few doors to find his own already kicked in.

"Well, the mattress is just stuffing. Fuck...I mean, you don't get such a big name without something to show for it!" one of the two crows squawked, mangling Luci's bed with a knife while their folded wings fluttered. The second was in the middle of digging through Luciel's dresser, throwing all manner of négligé on the floor even as the man of the hour walked in. "Did you check that recliner? Theres enough cuts in it...that..." the raven at the dresser croaked, looking over in time to see Luciel stomp into the room.

There were no games to be played, Luciel falling to a knee and seemingly contorting himself where the back of his left leg nearly touched the top of his head with both arms splayed out. The raven froze with their hand inches from their holstered pistol as a 4-jointed arm reached from around the dresser to grip their wrist and then violently yank as Luci planted the toe of his contorted leg back to the floor. A sickening snap became the overture to the raven's arm being broken backwards and his body being forcefully dragged behind the dresser. The force pulled the gurgling figure and the inanimate object half way across the room before catching on the wall where a sickening series of crunches heralded the once anatomically correct figure being reduced to...well...less than. The mangled and disfigured mass was then flattened by the dresser falling onto it.

The crow, meanwhile, dealt with the sharp glare of Luci in his focused stance, arms coiling above him.
In response, four arms snatched the avian and slammed him against the ceiling before yanking them back to the floor, dragging them across the length of the room and through the legs of a table before pinning them to the ground.

The sputtered, coughed and groaned, hyperventilating as the ghost of their target swept over them like a shadow, straddling their chest while the four arms pinned them down. "D-doing...doing my job! I was just doi-" they frantically mustered their voice to almost screamed before inky sludge was rammed down their open mouth and throat.

"Shhh...." Luci hissed, leaning in as the avian struggled, choked and tears ran down his cheeks. Leaning in, the jack softly whispered...

"Ve eat our mistakes..."

A sickening pop rose from Luciel's skull as his jaw dropped an inch and a half, mouth opening hideously wide before taking a large chomp out of the bird's pectoral flesh, taking a moment to turn his head and spit feathers and flesh while the goon gurgled muffled screams of agony...before the jack went in again...and again...
Blood and bubbles belching from the mangled flesh, cracked ribs and lungs while Luciel savagely tore into their chest with accentuated K9s and front teeth like a feral hound. He would pause only to rear back and gnash the raw and bloody other white meat.

Partaking~
I felt nothing as I gambled whether the bird's senses would grant him unconsciousness, he would bleed out or I would strike something vital. With a free hand, I tore at clothes and feathers for the other side, chicken breast being a classic favourite~
Sadly, it didn't take long before their twitching stopped.

Dead meat was just...fowl~

Luciel lifted himself with a content sigh, wistful eyes blinking and settling. A squall at seas meeting the silencing light of dawn, the hollowness of his slit eyes returned a renewed glint as the jack's pupil's dilated. Sniffing harshly and spitting a glob of mucus and blood onto the maimed crow's corpse, Luciel stretched and took in the dump of an apartment which he fondly considered home...though his fondness nixed the torn apart walls and scattering of his everything across the floor.
A compromised mess was best looked at compromised than considered what it once had been. A lesson learned while he was living on the streets before Theais picked him up.

Thankfully, his dufflebags were still there and he had more than enough space to carry his crap out.
Where was a different issue, but it wasn't worth thinking about until he was done packing. The ungrateful lady whose life he saved was prey for another day, and the jack needed to flee, first and foremost. As his thoughts raced, he piled clothes he favored most as well as various...amenities. Thinking ahead, his body worked like a machine to make efficient of the time he had, though he was likely considered dead at this point. The task burned in his head, echoes of reminders in his own voice and that of his faceless lord were discontent with the state he left the avian that even now filled Luciel's otherwise empty stomach.
It wasn't nearly enough, though...he needed... her.

Darkly in thought, Luci threw his coat and blood-soaked clothes aside, leaving him in his choice undergarments and the armor which was a bit worse for wear. A long dent across the back of the chestplate and pauldrons from when he took out the newspaper stand after being thrown from the car, gouges and scratches along the left arm, various scuffs along the shin plates and a new set of 2 magnum slugs fused to the metal in their mushroomed state. The material of the bullets had already faded back as the iron, itself and it robbed the unpolished armor of its otherwise featureless design. The ruined simplicity made Luciel frown as he tried to pick one of the bullets off before quickly giving up.

With a huff and a pout, he planted his hands on his hips and shook his head, grumbling as he strode over to Theais's dresser, figuring he may as well help her pack. A ringing rose up in his ears as he opened the top drawer and was blinded by colors and his own stupidity. A chorus of "Luci~!" affectionately rose up even as he slammed the drawer shut and stumbled back, lightheaded from the blush that washed across his face. Toppling over the chunks of his favorite chair, he stared in shock, breathing heavily.

In the connected kitchen, the coffee machine hung from a cabinet door by its cord, getting in a good few snickers at his expense before being cleaved in half by an axe that stuck into the wall behind it. Luci laid back rubbing his face and softly growling as he stared at the ceiling, wishing Theais had gotten the call and came with him. It would have made things far simpler, but there was no time for that, now. He pulled himself back to his feet, pacing and cursing under his breath as he eyed the dresser which cast a long shadow across the room...a bit of lace poking out of the drawer from how the contents were jostled when he slammed it.
"Just cloth...iz just cloth..." he quietly reassured himself, shaking his arms and giving a few hops to shake out the jibblies and psych himself up for trying again, now that he knew what foe he was up against.

In a secluded corner of the dingy bar sat a tired-looking maned-wolf, who'd occassionally peer at the dartboard whenever he felt a dart go *THUNK* into the wall. Instead he focused on the feet of a content little rummy ferret tapping his feet against the barstool as some sort of noise that probably counted as music played over the radio. Even deaf he could tell the tin-box sound of the speaker hardly did the young musical performer any justice... Frank... something...

Looking up, he saw Sully, working behind the bar trying to keep the happy people happy and eager to pay tips, and keep the unhappy people from bottling their anger up until they'd explode and ruin it for everyone. It was a art-form in action to watch, really; a bit hard to watch without subtitles, but lip-dubbing whatever words seemed to fit was often more entertaining anywas.

He tipped his glass from side to side, trying to see if there was anything left in the bottom that could be swirled-out as he contemplated going up for another drink, at risk of barging into the middle of a private and closely gaurded conversation. Of course, it was then something interesting had to happen.

Apparently the ferret was starting to get flirty, and wasn't pulling enough charm for the lady, but too drunk to realize it. He'd lean-in, she'd lean back; he'd slide his drink closer to hers, she'd pick hers up and set it down further away. Twombly got up and strode-over just as the ferret was getting handsy, pulling a dart from the wall along the way.

"What's a fine little flower like you doing up on the rocks amongst the moss when there's such fine music to dance to?" He enquired, he was taking a gamble on the song of course, but the rhythmn seemed slow enough to keep up with. (1941 edition)

Theais Nightstalker

She had just gotten done prepping The Night Owl for her inevitable crowd that would arise as night began to fall and was on her way home, wondering what Luciel had done to keep himself company this day. Ever since she had taken in the little rabbit she had found herself looking forward to going hope rather than dreading the emptiness that used to greet her when the door opened. Thankfully, the Dragonesque female did not have long to wait as her club was only a ten minute walk from her home, which suited her perfectly. Coming up to the porch of the apartment building, she sniffed around a bit, confused as she opened up the main door and made her way to her apartment. Upon seeing her door open, she figured Luciel was already home and was rather pleased with the very thought, until she stepped in.

"Luci, what happened?" the woman's voice was calm, her eyes wandering over to the partially eaten crow yet showing no signs of horror, "There is one more body in here than yesterday and this one looks like someone went to town... it won't even be usable for zombie to do some work for me." A soft huff escaped the woman as she made her way to the room, her eyes narrowing on the destroyed coffee pot and the axe currently embedded into the wall. Part of the woman wondered if her roommate had had another episode, or if there had been a legitimate attack, she was leaning more towards the attack. "Alright BunBun, you have some explaining to do about why the apartment looks like this, and why you look like you just stumbled into someone watching porn or something."

Eyes scanning the room, she noticed that one of her panties was hanging out of her drawer, which made her raise an eyebrow in question as she turned back to the rabbit. "Someone trying to steal my panties or is something pretty big going on? Or were you looking to just borrow a pair for some reason or another?" she questioned as she jerked her thumb over to her dresser, the very thing the jackalope seemed to be fixated on.

---

Aaron Kahlil

Life went on well after things got messed up, the God's clearly didn't care who got hurt during their exchange, during whatever the sacrifice deal included. No, they just did what was asked of them no matter what the price would do to anyone else, let alone the daughter of a Mob Boss. Here she was, sitting at a fancily decorated table at the ballroom, listening to Johann and trying to hide from him at the same time as this was the first time in a long time that she had dared venture to one of his shows with the way she looked now. No longer was she just a wolf, no... her father had given up the purity of his bloodline for power and that left his daughter with a set of wings she still could not control completely. I'm starting to think I should have stayed home, what if he doesn't recognize me? What if he does yet finds me utterly repulsive because of what my father did to me? she found herself thinking, the hand around her glass tightening. She would just have to wait and see, her state of dress did nothing to hide what she was now, if she had to accept it then so would others.

---

Barely Legal and already chilling at a bar, or maybe she wasn't legal at all and people simply thought she was thanks to her job, who knew? Regardless of the fact, she was here to find a particular maned wolf who had a rather specific skill set she needed to utilize to get her Sasha up and working properly again. As she weaved her way through the mass of bodies, she spotted exactly who she was looking for and it seemed he was in the middle of trying to get someone out of trouble. Hm... not my problem, she thought to herself as she strode up and unceremoniously shoved the ferret out of the way as he had gotten between her and her target.

"Hey," she said rather loudly to get the wolf's attention, "I've got a job for you and it pays rather well if you're willing." Right down to business, it was how she always was when it came to her profession or anything that her profession relied upon... like her firearms. Considering it wasn't all the weird to see someone carrying one around, Ylva rarely ever hid her's from prying eyes and this was no exception. "She's been misfiring and throwing duds out at random, can't have her doing this while I'm on a job," she continued, motioning to the guitar case she was carrying on her back, "Think you could take a look at her for me?"

Theas had walked in on an interesting scene for sure. Between the front door being shambled back into position after having been kicked off its hinges and the gore that remained of the home intruders, her roomate's behavior was also on par with the climate of the room.
Lights flickered around the side of the apartment room where Luciel was lowered on all fours, fingers of one raised hand twitching and arching while the other clutched a second axe tight enough to use its flat head to prop himself up. It was a focusing stance, trying to center himself in a serious manner that was reflected in the arms rising from the ground around the dresser. Opposed to their usual fluid, ink-like composition, these bent at sharp and stiff angles while being comprised of shimmering 'white noise' like fibers of darkness. While five merely stood by as if waiting to react, the sixth creaked as it inched forward to open the drawer, seeming almost to shake.

Luci bit his lip with sharply focused eyes, conditioned to respect such boundaries as what could be contained in a woman's armoire, though the expression was closer to someone about to delicately cut a wire for diffusing a bomb. That was until Theais' voice broke the chimera from his trance, ears and tail bolting upright in excitement like a switch had been flicked to cut darkness down with the light that now filled his eyes. The arms made sharp but muffled barks of static as they demannifested and Luci scrambled to his feet, dropping the axe in the process.
"Miss Theais!" he chirped, ecstatic that his roomate had returned as well as relieved that he had managed to retain his honor by not having to further rummage through her stuff. The extent of such conditioning was made clear by how he circled the dragoness rather than tackle her with a hug which his expression betrayed his want to. "Zeht voman from zee ohzer night...ehm...she iz Derrick daughter..." he began to explain, his excitement tempered by the explanation, though he still seemed to be bursting at the seams as usual whenever Theais came home. In some ways, Luci was closer to a pet than a roomate; like an alley cat or a half-feral dog, down to the bad habit of bringing home half-eaten birds and tearing up the apartment.
"She vahz not happy vith zeht job, ehn...vell..." Luci continued, nervously picking at the bullets fused to his armor which he looked down at before shifting his eyes to the mess of the intruders, hoping he wouldn't have to explain the situation any further. However, her question regarding what hung out of the drawer made him wince with embarrassment, especially at the comment of Luciel looking to borrow a pair. "N-no! I vahz goink to help pack. I have my own, anyvhay, hehe...ehh" he explained with a nervous chuckle before his eyes darkened and a light blush rose on his face, though he decided to leave it where it was rather than try to backpedal.

There were more important matters afoot, and the room wasn't the most ideal place to stay, what with the goons leaking into the carpets. The door, taking the conclusion of the jack's sentence as its cue, noisily groaned from its weight pulling one of the screws from the wall where its last good hinge bent.
The sound made Luciel's ears fold back, taking a step away from Theais as his true feelings of shame for the state of their apartment hushed his excitement. He'd yet to take a moment to get dressed in something other than armor and undergarments, painting a picture of what haste he'd been in up until Theais' arrival. He wasn't the best with the whole 'uprooting' thing yet after regarding the small apartment as paradise in comparison to...well...everything he'd ever known. To say he felt bad about it would be an egregious understatement.
"I-I am sorry, Miss Theais..." he whispered, having yet to get over his needlessly formal stance with her.

Theais Nightstalker

Theais offered the jackalope a soft smile before leaning down and wrapping her arms around him in the hug he so clearly wanted. "No need to apologize dear," she told him, "And stop calling me Miss ya sil, just Theais will do." She chuckled softly and took a quick survey of the apartment before letting out a soft sigh. It was clear she was not mad at her roommate, but she had been rather fond of her home. "Welp, time to pack up, go ahead and grab what you think you need or want. I am going to pack up my clothing and phone Aeron, hopefully she is either home or one of her goonies are so we can house with her for a bit."

She gently pat the male's head, her own ear twitching as the busted door groaned in protest, eventually slamming to the ground. "Definitely not getting that security deposit back," she said on a laugh as she went to her dresser to pack up her clothing, then began the trek around her room to grab everything she needed... that wasn't shattered. Thankfully she kept all the things needed for her trade in the chest at the end of her bed, the thing warded against anyone other than Luciel and herself opening it.

Then there was Axel, the cat/bird creature that Luciel had helped her create. It was a strange being, but it was something she had learned to permanently animate, a small gift from a God who had tricked her into losing what was most important it to her... twice. It was part of the reason that she had taken Luciel in, but after awhile it became apparent to her that he was his own person and in some ways, he needed her help. "Luciel Darling, please make sure you grab the herbs from the kitchen!" she called to the small rabbit.

All Twombly felt was a shudder, something brushing up against the back of his leg, and a shout. Gripping the pilfered dart, he swiveled around expecting to meet the ferret trying to land a haymaker, only instead to see Charlie knocked off his barstool and sitting dumb on his ass. He hadn't so much seen or heard the shove as much as felt the uncerimonious landing. There was also a small woman with a large instrument-case nearly as big as herself. After this assesment, he managed to pick out something about something throwing duds and managed to piece-together while fienting deep contemplation that she had something that needed to be fixed, that probably could've been fixed by anyone... but this girl chose him. His reputation had spread quickly, it seemed.

"I could look at it here, if you'd like. But I doubt I'd be able to fix it until I swing back to my workshop." He then looked at the impatient little timber-wolf with a warm smile, and the ferret with a frown, and then to Sully with an enquiring expression (to which he got nothing but an amused shrug). He sighed, pulling a few dollar bills from his pocket and placing them on the counter along with the dart.

He then started walking for the door, "Sully, make sure Charlie gets a cab-ride home in one piece. You can't let your best customer get himself into more trouble than he can mooch his way out of." He said, pausing expectantly. "Speaking of wich; Miss, if we're both going to be in a hurry to meet up in the same place, I see no reason why I can't split a cab-fare with you."

Alexander groggy opened his eyes, sitting upright and pulling the covers tucked underneath him. Quickly grabbing his shirt laying across the bed post, attempting to search the around the softly crept closer to the living room like he was traversing across ice. Following the pungent smell of coffee, poking his head out while hiding his body behind the wall. Alyssa was fully clothed and standing beside the window, with the sun brightly flooding the room. Her eyes glimmered like a candle's flame, staring outside with a coffee mug in her paws. He noticed the box of cherries already opened, sitting on the table, letting out a slight sigh.

“What are you doing?” Alexander asked. She glanced back and turned out seeing him standing the middle of the living room, staring down for a couple seconds before she gave him a bright smile.

“Admiring the view.” She replied with a straight tone, her tail playfully swishing through the air. Despite Alexander's eye roll revealing he was aware of her innuendo.

“Where did you put my pants Kacey?” Alexander questioned. She reacted with a pouty face and turned her head away.

“Not going to say, especially with that tone of voice.” She said. Alexander remained silent for a moment, until she playfully stuck her tongue out, showing that she was just teasing him again. He responded with a sigh, turning around and headed into her pink paneled bathroom and pulling back the floral pattern shower curtains. Finding his pants hanging on the shower head, while Alyssa finished drinking the coffee while listening to the water turning on and the door being promptly shut. “Darn. I guess I've gotten predictable.” She giggled when another light bulb went off in her head.

His clothes rested on the sink, while the hot water poured down his head, holding the bar of soap in his talons, meticulously scrubbing his wings. He could hear the door being opened despite knowing that he locked it, feeling Alyssa leaning against his back, while wrapping her arms around him, playfully biting his right shoulder.

“What are you doing now?” He asked despite knowing how she'd answer back.

“Biting you.” She replied muffled with his shoulder still in her maw. He turned himself around seeing her smiling back, without her top, setting the soap down while simultaneously lowering the heat before kissing her.

“Doesn't your radio show start in a couple hours?” Alexander asked holding her paw.

“Yeah, but I've missed you. I haven't seen you in a while. Since you've been so busy writing.” Alyssa answered stroking his chest. He looked down seemingly lost in his thoughts, opening his mouth to speak but was interrupted. “I know you've been struggling, don't hesitate to ask me for help. I'll happily share your burdens.” He simply smiled at her and kissed her forehead.

“Thanks, but you don't deserve any more trouble thrust upon you. My burdens are too abundant for someone to share without being hurt-ow.” He answered back until she playfully flicked the tip of beak.

“I got to be prepared for my show, thanks for stopping by. Maybe you can come by sometime and fix my bathroom lock for me.” She teased before leaving.

A little later outside Alyssa's apartment, Alexander had left and started walking down the stairs seemingly unaware that somebody was watching him from the passing crowd. He started walking through the pedestrian scramble, crossing the street. The gruff wolf casually threw his cigar down to the ground, occasionally glancing at his target from his newspaper before silently standing up from a nearby bench. He quickly made his way up the stairs to the very apartment and pulling out his tommy gun concealed in his trenchcoat and effortlessly opening the unlocked front door.

~{Collab with Zverda}~

Folded ears perked up and fluttered in response to the hug, though his hands remained at his side. Luciel wasn't sure what it was about the woman, but just being around her had a way of letting in a warmth that melted the numbness of normalcy that he had grown accustomed to. In a way, it was a cruelty which he fought to ignore; the haunting chill of existence crept back in where it was driven from when she wasn't around. The cold always had a way of being harsher on its return, as if jealously resentful of his affinity towards her acceptance.
Luciel's dark patron may have possessed his soul, but his heart still beat mortal blood. Wild and bent as it was, his mind could not be so simply swayed by spiritual torment, alone.

"Thhhheais..." Luciel replied, slow and softly as if testing out the word's lone use, looking up at her in the hug as to avoid tactless smooshing. This wasn't the first time Theais had brought it up and it likely wouldn't be the last. Rather than simply forgetting, it was just another habit beaten into him.
"An who iz Aeron?" the jack asked, running his fingers through his hair to straighten it before going back to assembling his own equipment as well as setting some clean clothes aside on the mangled bed. While he intended to remove his armor, a shred of paranoia argued against it and won out. Having looked over to ask, he noticed Theais opening the crate which contained their experiment, working up a bit of alarm which came out in Luciel scrambling over to see the beast. "Oh! Good, iz okay" he sighed, laying down on the bed to reach into the box and play around with the abomination which stood up on its hind legs to place its paws on his hands.
Luciel made soft sing-song "boop boop boo-boop~" sounds while lifting and lowering its arms, a small smile teasing his expression as he relaxed. "Certainly, ma'am! Ehrm...Theais" he replied, though was preoccupied.

Theais chuckled at Luciel as he played with Axel, the creature making cooing noises at him as the Jack messed with it's arms. "Aeron is a long time friend of mine," she told him, "I am... more or less an informate for her." As she spoke, she finished packing up some of her things before letting out a small yawn. Leaning back a bit, she surveyed the room and let out a slow breath, nodding her head a bit. Their ride would be there any time now, they needed to make sure everything was taken care of and lastly... "We need to burn this place to the ground, the dead bodies are useless to me and frankly? I don't think we really need to leave any evidence as to what happened here. The complex is usually abandoned around this time and anyone who is home will be able to get out in time."

"Hrmh...iz a sound idea" Luciel softly agreed, partially distracted by their creature though the gears turned in unsound ways at the mention of Theais being an informant for someone. Paranoia was quickly quelled by his unquestioning trust in the woman as well as an uncertainty what to be so overly cautious of. It wasn't like he was a puppet master worth having tabs kept on him, and, if anything, had an active agenda to snip strings where he saw them.
Mostly, his concern revolved around this 'Aeron' character's association with Theais...and how many strings she pulled. Regardless, an associate of the fair lady was worth being given a chance.

Burning the place down was a bit more than Luci had been looking forward to doing. It was still his home, so he understandably took his time in getting dressed and screwing in a fake antler to match his real one. Mid-thigh socks, a long-sleeved turtleneck and skirt did well enough to cover his armor as well as a coat and the redundancy of a scarf; 'Kaite' quickly dusted herself up with a bit of makeup to add slight gray spots, and it was like Luciel never existed.
"Are...we..leaving the stove on? Did you have a plan for z-this sort ouf thing?" 'Kaite' asked, placing everything too bulky to get away with wearing around in their pack while stuffing their shirt. Luciel did his best to suppress his accent, his voice thankfully light enough to pass as the opposite gender, especially after years of practice.

Theais had long since gotten used to Luciel doing this sort of thing, in fact, she never even questioned it as she saw no reason to. If the Jackalope wanted to tell her she knew he would, but for now she understood his want to keep some things a secret from the Dragoness. "I may be at the Mercy of Draskeleth, but I still have a bit of fire magic at my disposal... can easily make it look like a gas leak... or that these goons are the ones who did it and just so happened to get caught." Theais looked around the apartment, a frown crossing her features. She didn't want to burn the place down, but she didn't need anyone knowing about Luciel's little... habit of taking chunks out of people. As if it was an afterthought, she grabbed something off of a shelf and held it out to her companion, it was a necklace with what looked like a Dragon tooth on it.
"I meant to give this to you the other day," she told Lu-Kaite, he was Kaite right now, "A small gift, this is actually one of my own teeth, thankfully they continue to grow back even after they are lost." She flashed 'Kaite' a toothy grin before putting the chain around her neck and gently pushing them out the door. "I'll have to look for another home after this... good-bye security deposite."

With that said, she lifted their bags with relative ease and ignited one of the most flamable things in her home before rushing them to the sidewalk. Thankfully one of Aaron's cars was already waiting for them by the time all this was done, her people were nothing if not timely.

'Kaite' was just another mask for the Jack. Putting the finishing touches on their eyelashes while checking their reflection in a hand-mirror, the pleasant face of a young woman glared coldly back at him even as he tested out an adorable smile. It was always the eyes. Muscles can contract and flex to give the impression of joy, a pout or a scowl, but the numbness of his eyes always made him feel cold. He needed his reflection for reference, but was never a fan of it.
Looking up from his finished work, Luciel thoughtlessly tossed the polished metal mirror over his shoulder upon being met with a gift from Theais. At first he was speechless, unsure what to do with the necklace and simply held it as she explained the harmlessness behind it being one of his fair lady's. Still, hearing it belonged to her brought a spark of alarm to his expression, almost dropping the necklace. "Th-thank you, Theais!" he replied, compelled to thank her though he was unsure what to say other than offer obligatory formalities.
He wished he had something to offer her in return besides making a chore of burning down an apartment building containing their lives and those of others all for the sake of disposing of a few bodies.

Being wheeled out onto the sidewalk, Luciel couldn't help but look back as smoke billowed from the windows as the fire spread. They had joked about the tedious yet importance of the discipline that was 'chores' and how it would be easier to just burn it all down, but actually seeing it all go up stole the punchline sarcasm of leaving the action to imagination.
Luciel seemed to be in a daze, unaware of the car. It wasn't the first building he'd been responsible for the immolation of, and it was hard to see there being an end. Work needed to be done, all the while adding onto the list of charges, should the law ever catch him.

The windows permeated the sun's light across Alyssa's perplexed stare up to the ceiling, quickly leaning forward from her chair. Letting out an exasperated breath in between her sucking on the left paw, which she had recently placed inside her mouth. She was playfully counting in her head the amount of times the current caller was repeating himself, the stuttering only made her lose count halfway through the continued blathering. She grabbed her freshly poured coffee mug emanating an aesthetically pleasing steam, while removing the left paw to grab the steak knife from her work table to spread some more cream cheese on her half eaten bagel. She closed her eyes for a moment to say a silent prayer before nearly taking a sip, before realizing it was probably still too hot then setting it back down.

“So? T-tell me why does it take w-writers writers, years to write a single book? When I can write that much in a couple, a couple of h-hours?” The caller finally paused, she quickly assumed it was to catch their breathe. She brightly smiled almost on instinct and moved her microphone closer to her mouth.

“That's a good question! Now, I'm not a writer myself...but I've said on this show several times before my boyfriend is a published author. So maybe I'm not qualified to answer, but I feel like writer's are often gravely misunderstood-” She answered with a pleasant tone before abruptly getting cut off.

“So, so, so, you're saying that everyone, everywhere who isn't a writer should just purposefully not question a writers methods!? Doesn't that seem like a horrible thing to say, it's like your calling everyone of our viewers stupid for not getting it!” He sneered. She simply finished another bite of her bagel before allowing him to again finish his statement without interruption.

“No, I would never chastise my listeners in such a way. It just feels off when someone assumes a writer is being lackadaisical, simply because they seem to take a while to write. I just know how it feels to always be insecure at everything you do and say...Something in the back of your mind will just question if everything was wrong...that inner divisiveness completely devours confidence and progress-” She explained her ears twitching from hearing soft creaking from her doorway, turning her attention behind her, seeing nothing there. She shrugged it off, feeling a tingling in the back of her neck that rubbing wasn't stopping her heart beat from racing just a little faster.

“...Oh, please I never question if I'm wrong about anything!” The caller retorted that Alyssa only half heard, focusing on the subtle sounds coming from outside her room, before immediately standing up and turning herself completely invisible.

“I'm sorry caller, but we're going to a commercial break, thank you for your time!” She said in a rushed breath before switching herself off and turning around to facing a stranger pulling a Thompson submachine gun concealed in their trench coat, blocking the doorway with his stocky physique. Within a single moment the sun beaming from the window had been entirely focused and amplified directly in the stranger's line of vision. The man was completely bewildered attempt to shield his eyes in vain as his vision was like staring at pitch whiteness, while it also felt like his very eyes were engulfed in flames. She had grabbed the coffee and steak knife both tightly in her paws and lunged forward, smashing the scalding hot coffee mug across the assassin's face, crashing to the ground immediately followed by slashing the knife straight through his neck, as blood starts spurting out splattering across her shirt.

He dropped the gun to the ground and immediately wildly swung his fists, clocking her in the jaw and shoving her backwards, knocking her back to the ground removing her invisibility. She quickly held up her hands forming a ball of light energy and fired it off as the beam of light completely evaporated the fingers attempt to grab her throat. She quickly got back on her feet, retrieving the knife she dropped once she fell. Her exhausting quick breaths while tears streaming down her face, while she begin furiously slashing at him with the knife being the sole focus of her attacks, allowing the man to see Alyssa's face before collapsing to the ground covered in dozens of deep wounds, with a pool of blood forming on her floor. She covered her mouth with her paws and backed herself into a corner, slumping down to the ground, sharply inhaling as she watched the man dying in her presence. She immediately rushed over to the man attempting to use her magic to heal his wounds, but their wasn't a pulse.

“Why...why did this have to happen to me again...why did you-” She choked out before feeling something in his pockets, that she pulled out discovering it to be his wallet. She opened his almost empty wallet containing nothing but a single photograph, it looked like a picture of a young woman smiling brightly with two small infants wrapped in separate blue and pink blankets that she held in each arm. Teardrops fell on the picture, before she clenched her fists and slammed them into the ground.

“Stupid! Stupid! You're so stupid!” She cried out. “Why would you risk your life and leave your wife and family behind! Did you even think of your daughter!? Did you think she wouldn't miss you when you were gone, because you had to do something so reckless! You'll never get to tuck her in at night, kiss her forehead while saying that you love her and are proud of her. She'll never get comforted by you when she's upset, she can't get support for her future career. She can't ever feel you holding her in your arms ever again! You completely robbed that of her! Why would a father leave her daughter behind!” She clamored to point of losing her voice, while bawling like a baby, having barely energy to get onto her knees. Folding her shaking hands to say another silent prayer.

[Is collab]

Twombly escorted Ylva outside, only to get yanked aside and pulled over to a big black shiny Cadillac, a model 61 with tightly polished chrome that looked like it’d just came off the showroom-floor. Twombly’s jaw dropped, but only slightly. The girl had money, he’d give her that; hopefully not too much sense, as his previous business-venture had nearly left him broke enough to start taking-out jobs for the mob, rather than just petty work fixing the toys they so often broke.

“Get in,” she said as she gently pushed him to the vehicle, “And try not to drool on the interior, I just had her detailed.” The young wolf offered him half a smile before going over to the driver’s side and climbing in, the engine roaring to life before settling in on a soft purr. While Twombly’s assumption on her having money was true, she was a little more smart with it than the Tank buying Panda-dog as she invested a good portion of it, placed some in Savings and the rest was something she would play with. As she was only 18, she figured she would work for a few years, gather a decent amount and then go from there.

Twombly shook-off the bewilderment quickly, as the young dame was getting impatient waiting for directions as the car idled at a soft, feline purr. His instructions went something along the oft-frustrating lines of: “Turn left here, slow down! Head for the docks… now a right, up here.. No, up there.” until they finally reached a repurposed service-station that had clearly fallen upon hard-times before being picked-up by its new owner, and its situation hadn’t improved much since.

Through the garage-door was a 6x6 truck-shaped… thing under a tarp. Some protuberance on top gave the tarp-draped silhouette an odd, duck-like shape, on the ground next to it laid some sort of pillbox-turret with a much-too-large looking dummy-gun. Through the next corner and into the locked garage-bay was the armory, walls of weapons and various machine-tools for cobbling-together crude yet workable replacement parts and other gunsmithing jobs laid in a surprisingly neat and organized manner. Rows of reference books lined a shelf detailing the specifics of nearly every firearm ever made, plus a few that never saw the light of day.

Of course, resting on the wall was a 20mm Hispano cannon, alongside what appeared to be some scoped and sighted rifles, and a stout looking M3//MP40/Sten hybrid submachine-gun cobbled together. It was here at this bench he took a look at Ylva’s Enfield, Sasha. He quickly determined the model and mark of the rifle, dropped the bolt, produced the proper tool for removing the firing-pin, and had the action completely disassembled while at the same time diagnosing such things as firing-pin protrusion (which wouldn’t have hurt to be lengthed a tad), headspace (which was still good), muzzle-crown (pristine), chamber (polished), and firing pin profile (chipped).

He then turned and gave Ylva his diagnosis: “Your firing pin is a little bent, causing it to bind inside your bolt. The pin itself is chipped and eroded, and could use a bit of polishing and lengthening.”

Without asking permission, he took the pin to the drill-press, placed it in the chuck, and started it up as he took a piece of ultra-fine sandpaper and steel wool to it, profiling the hemispherical point with his paw-tips and reducing the shoulder a tiny amount as gauged by a caliper.

He then took it over to the rifle, re-assembled it for her, and handed it back with a smile of pride just visible from the corner of his lip.

“If you’ve got ammunition for it, there’s a range to test out my work in the basement.” He offered, gesturing to a set of stairs down to the repurposed repair-pit.