---

The drive to Santa Celia had been long and mostly boring. Kayla, being a person of little patience and even less attention span had clocked out after the first hour or so, much to Kyle’s eternal gratitude to whatever higher force was above. Kayla could be annoying.

So given that the sign for the city limit was coming into sight, with a long sigh Kyle decided it was finally time to wake his sister up.

“Hey, Kayla, wake up. We made it.”

Kayla stirred and groaned indignantly, finally waking up after sleeping soundly for several hours. She yawned and stretched, angling her arms as to not get in Kyle’s way. She cracked her neck, which had been resting at an odd angle for a while now. In typical Kayla fashion, she hadn’t really heard what Kyle had said and asked “Are we there yet?”

“Yeah. Take a look.” Her brother replied.

Kayla, following instruction for what was likely one of the first times in her life, cast her eyes out the window just in time to catch the city limit sign as they passed it. She hummed, and sat properly in the passenger seat for another minute or two, only to very suddenly tense up.

“Kyle, pull over.”

“Why?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Kyle offered no response save a sigh. He wasn’t up for the ‘just hold it’ argument. He began looking for a safe spot to pull over, turning the blinker on. They pulled off on the nearest exit, which had been conveniently located not too far away. As Kyle pumped gasoline into the car, Kayla very quickly booked it into the building, coming out five minutes later with two candy bars. One Twix, the other Reeses.

“I told you not to drink that soda before the trip.”

Kayla seemed to choose not to reply to Kyle’s quip, instead offering him a choice of the two chocolate bars. “Take your pick.”

“I’m good.” Kyle replied. As Kayla shrugged and began unwrapping the twix, Kyle finished up pumping the gas. They both climbed into the car, Kyle pulling up to the exit. “So…” He began to say, “Now that we’re actually here, could you tell me what we’re doing?”

“Parker says-” Kayla said with a mouthful of Twix. Kyle winced at the sight of crumbs. Kayla, catching his sideways glance, swallowed and righted herself. “Sorry, Parker says that this city has been piquing everyone’s interest as of late.” She took another bite of her candy bar, finishing the last of it. She took a look at the Reese’s bar, but decided on saving it for later.

“Do you know what a Jäger is?”

Kyle sighed. He hadn’t brushed up on the term in a while. “They’re…” He began, “The ancestor-conduits, right?”

“Yeah, kinda. Our bloodlines have worked together before. They’re kinda like us, but more… specialized. Monster hunters, if I recall right. I mean, their name means ‘hunter’ in German and all.” Kayla laid back in their seat and crossed her arms. “He mentioned that there was one somewhere in the city. Didn’t say who or where though. Imagine that, Lance Parker admitting he doesn’t know something.”

“He’d never be that straightforward with me about anything.” Kyle responded, only half-jokingly. “So, what exactly is the plan then? After we find this Jäger?”

“You eventually learn that if he isn’t sayin’ it, he doesnt know it. Will never admit it though. You know him.” Kayla said, giving Kyle a smile that was all teeth. “I figured it’d be a good first step to know someone in the business, y’know? What’s the saying? Two’s company and three is… also company.”

“Crowd. Three’s a crowd.” Kyle responded bluntly.

“Not according to some of the videos I’ve watched.” Kayla countered quickly, moving on just as fast. “REgardless, they’re a local if anything. Might know where to look for trouble. Or at least where to get a bite to eat.”

Kyle nodded. “Good plan.” He said, in a not-at-all-confident manner. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… Witch Blood is poisonous to Jägers, right?”

“If my readings are right, I think it’s only if my blood is exposed to her bare skin. I should be able to shake her hand just fine when introductions are made. Should.” Kayla fell quiet into thought for a moment. They were both experienced with the supernatural, and smart too. There was always a catch to things like this. “I suppose I might not be able to heal her, but that’ll require further testing. I’ll have to work out the methodology of the experiment if we get the opportunity.”

She was quiet again, then thought of something more. “Do we have anything in specific in mind for lodging? I love you and all bro, but I don't think either of us will enjoy living in a car for an unspecified amount of time and hoping it rains to bathe.”

“We pick a hotel and we stick with it.” Kyle responded, “Just like we’ve done… I forget how many times now. Been ages since we just stayed in one place. Doesn’t even feel like we have our own house anymore.”

Kayla hummed in response, “C’mon Kyle. You and I both know that we’d go stir-crazy if we stayed in one place for too long. You remember that gig in India we had a few years ago? I hated staying put for three months WAITING for the Naga to show itself.”

“Well, we’ve got a city to rummage through now. Shouldn’t leave you bored. That is, if we actually find something to work on.”

Kayla nodded, but for once didn’t say anything. Instead, she opted to look out the window as they rolled ever closer to the city. Her uncharacteristic silence was welcome to Kyle, but unnerving. Perhaps Kayla could feel something that he couldn’t. Perhaps this city would be interesting after all.

---

After finding a small but nice motel, Kyle and Kayla had decided that there was no time like the present to get a headstart on scouting out the city for potential problems that would benefit from their expertise. As they walked the sidewalk of Santa Celia, Kyle elbowed Kayla to get her attention.

“Hm? See something?” Kayla said, looking up to her brother, who simply pointed in the direction of a gathering of police officers up the road. They had the police tape, the cruisers, the manpower, the whole nine yards. Kayla furrowed her brow. “What about it?”

“Amulet’s humming.”

This caught Kayla’s attention. “How do you wanna go about it?”

“DICKS!” a man in civilian clothing yelled, catching both of the twin’s attention. An officer, who was no doubt the ‘Dicks’ in question, stepped forward to address the man. They seemed to get into a short spat, until the civilian blinded the officer with a high powered camera flash and tossed something into the alleyway, only to walk away thereafter.

“Him. That’s how we go about it.” Kayla said smugly.

“Off to a great start.” Kyle replied bluntly.

“Do you want to question him, or do you want me to?”

“You go ahead. I’ll see what I can gather about the situation from here.”

“I can do you one better-” Kayla said, then pursing her lips. She closed her eyes and spoke. “Cam'wethrin.” She said, an aetherial echo to her voice. She opened her eyes again, blinking a few times to remove any weariness she had given herself. “You’ll move silently for a few minutes. Do you have some kind of concussive but non lethal bomb? To blind them? I can do it myself, but if you have something…”

“You are… really starting off pretty crazy with this, you know that?” Kyle responded, somewhat irritated.

“C’mon, Kyle we’re Tourists. It’s what we do.” Kayla said, winking at him.

All she got from her brother in response was yet another sigh.

---

After some time, Ember finally caught up to the police cars but it was too late. As soon as she stopped atop a rooftop of a building across the street where the police seem to be in the middle of a hostage situation, the generator exploded and filled the whole black with darkness. Then they all heard a crash and it turned out to be the actual generator itself. Ember furrowed her eyebrows. No ordinary human was capable of destroying a generator with just raw power, much less throw it outside with such force. Was this the work of another human with superpowers, just like her? If so, what was his or her intent?

Then gunshots ensued and everybody laid low to avoid being hit by stray bullets. Most of them freaked out and screamed but it seemed the screaming was louder inside the apartment itself. Ember's hunch was right. There was definitely some super-powered human inside that apartment. No... no, it doesn't seem like it. Whatever's in there was definitely not a someone but a something.

She decided to wait on the rooftop a little more just to fully understand what was really going on. As time passed by, the situation accumulated a growing crowd with more police cars, ambulances, and vans of news reporters. Ah crud. It's going to be harder entering the apartment with that many people and cameras. However, she can't just sit there any longer than she should be knowing that innocent people caught in the horrible situation were still inside there. She looked around the rooftop for something to cover her face with. Bingo; there's a clothesline up in there, and hanging were newly washed cowboy bandit costume. She took the eye mask with no hesitation and put it on.

She examined the apartment once more and found an open window on the apartment's third floor. Then Ember grabbed on to the edge of the rooftop and stretched herself back as far as she can. After counting to three, she jumped and slingshotted herself straight inside through the window. With how fast she went, she was sure all the people could see was a fast blur entering in the apartment. It added more confusion for the people and the police, racking their heads just to make sense of what was really going on that uneventful night.

---

Luckily enough, Ember landed on a bed. She quickly scanned the room, the lights from the cars outside the only light source. Judging from what she can see with a little light, it seemed like she's inside a boy's bedroom. She elongated her ear and pressed it against the door. She can hear someone talking, their voices deep and full of panic. More gunshots and screams filled the entire apartment and the voices faded as they went up, and she also heard crashing on the top floor. That must be the one adding more chaos to an already chaotic event. She already made her mind on going upstairs, but she also thought of the innocent people still inside the building. Ember took a flashlight on the boy's night stand and quietly opened the door.

She did a quick scan to see if the coast was clear, and went to the staircase. Ember peeked down to see most of the armed men there, seven tops. It also seemed most if not all the tenants of the apartment was there in the middle as well.

"B-Boss? Aren't we going to d-do something? W-w-what if w-we're...", asked one of the goons.

"Shut up! It's harder to think with you blabbering, Mercado. Just shut the hell up!", their boss said. He walked back and forth, pointing his gun at a crying girl. "You better silence your child or I'll silence him myself!", he shouted. The little girl's mother quickly embraced her, fearful of her daughter and everyone's lives. "Mercado, go upstairs to see what the hell's going on and kill it. Hell, kill everything in sight!", the boss ordered Mercado. He hesitatingly and slowly climbed the stairs with eyes on the verge of crying.

Meanwhile, Ember was ready. As soon as she can see the goon's head, she stretched out her arms and grabbed Mercado in surprise. The ma's frighted shouts was cut short by Ember's swift kick on his face, making him unconscious. She dropped his body on the stairs, making the boss angrily order two more of his men go upstairs. They saw no one when they got there, and walked down the hallway warily. Little did they know Ember was on the ceiling, waiting to ambush them. When they're in view, she jumped between them hands first and split horizontally in the air, kicking them with her elongated legs. Then she grabbed both of the men with her legs and crashed their faces against each other. She wrapped their unconscious bodies with her arms and she jumped, landing on the ground floor.

"I believe these are yours?", Ember said to the boss.

The boss of these men no longer knew what to do. Everything happened so quickly, and so much fear and anger clouded his thoughts as she shouted while he and his remaining men fired at Ember. She tossed the bodies to the sides and shielded her face with her arms. The hostages shouted and cowered in fear, but Ember was unfazed. Every bullet that hit her felt like someone just poking their finger at her, it was even ticklish. She couldn't help but giggle a bit, and hearing this made the boss more crazed.

Enough was enough; Ember darted to the side towards one of the goons firing at her. She kicked his gun upwards and kicked him with her elongated leg him on the face and on his stomach. He dropped to the floor groaning, and the men decided to ditch the guns and fight her full on. They fought her all at once and Ember used her elasticity to evade their hits and make them attack each other instead. After an intense battle, the men dropped to the floor groaning, their whole body in pain with their exchanged hits as Ember stood completely unscathed.

Ember turned her attention at the hostages, now looking at awe at her. "People, you're safe now. You're good to go, so just... go. Go!", she told them. They all quickly went out of the apartment which surprised even the police. But before everyone could leave, a father grabbed Ember's arm.

"Please... please whoever you are, save my daughter. She's up there alone with God knows what and if something happens to her I...", the man pleaded with tears coming out of his eyes.

Ember grabbed the father's shoulder. "Don't worry, I will. Now go wait for your daughter outside and leave the rest to me", she reassured the man. He nodded and went with the others outside. After breathing deeply, Ember mustered up the courage to finally go up and face whatever was up there.

---

"I suppose since you told me your secret, it's only fair that I show you mine."

All things considered, Archie hadn't expected that Nicole would accept his confession as easily as she had. He didn't really know what he expected, honestly. This was all new territory to him, telling someone about his... affliction. He certainly didn't expect her to reveal to him that she had abilities of her own.

"I know it isn't the same, but my power doesn't change who I am when I use it, I never hurt people without meaning to. I cant say I understand how you feel. Still, I hope that knowing there's someone else who isn't completely normal will help you somehow."

And just like that, Archie felt the weight of the world come off his shoulders, if only for a minute. He still felt slimy, and like a time bomb, but the voice in his head that was telling him he needed to hide himself was uncharacteristically quiet. Someone who, while not identical to him, was similar. And it explains why she was able to repair his otherwise shredded clothing. Perhaps the man upstairs wasn't out to get him after all, because out of all the people in the city, he managed to find the one individual who had the capabilities necessary to help him cope with his own abnormalities. In this moment, that voice had been proven wrong. Archie opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the ding of the store's welcome bell. He shut his mouth quickly, not yet ready to publicly out himself. He cast his glance over to see who the newcomer, and quickly changed his mind about his earlier thought. The man upstairs clearly did hate him, because the person who just entered was the girl who had stumbled into... the other guy a little over an hour ago.

Archie met her eyes and very quickly looked away to focus on his coffee. Nicole stood up and walked away to address the new customer. While neither were looking, with shaky hands he took the flask off his hip and dumped some of the liquid in his coffee. Once he was satisfied he took a long drink from his coffee and winced, then put the cup down. Nicole's sarcasm brought on momentary feeling of jaded mirth to Archie. If only she knew the half of it. He remembered everything that happened in that other body- she had seen him hurt someone horribly. Despite this, the liquid courage in his system and Nicole's acceptance spurred him to do what was right. This woman, if anything, deserved an explanation. Or an apology. Or both. With a deep sigh, Archie stood up and walked over to the newcomer.

"Hi," He began awkwardly. Just because he had submitted himself to doing this, didn't mean that he had thought what he was going to say through. "I, um-" He continued, trying to find his words. "What happened to your hand?" he finally finished, deciding that 'Hi I'm that lizard' was probably not the best approach. He had realized, just in time too, that he had to be sure that this was the right woman.

---

@Chukklehed@Silver Carrot

_{Location Unit 814, Ruthven Heights - Milk Street}

Post #2.02: An Unexpected Call

---

_{Location The Tír na nÓg - Milk Street}

---

---

8th September, 2014 - Santa Celia Police Headquarters - CONFESSION IN-3458

MOSES MULLER: I don’t remember anything before Uncle Gerald died. I found his body by accident. End of story.

INTERROGATOR: Kid, your uncle didn’t just die. Five people died alongside your uncle that die and detectives spotted a trail of prints directly from your uncle’s classroom. Their bodies were half-incinerated, some looked like they got mauled by a grizzly. You mind explaining how that happened?

MOSES MULLER: I don’t know. Uncle Gerald died. I found his body by accident. I - I don’t remember anything. End of story.

INTERROGATOR: Kid, even a deaf bat can tell that you’re not telling the truth.

MOSES MULLER: I don’t know. Uncle Gerald died. I found his body by accident. End of story.

INTERROGATOR: Tell me the truth. Your uncle didn’t just die. Something else happened that day. I can see it in your eyes. That sweating brow of yours. You’re lying.

MOSES MULLER: I don’t know what happened. I swear to god, that -

INTERROGATOR: ‘Uncle Gerald died. I found his body by accident. End of story.’ You think people are just to take that for an answer -?

MOSES MULLER: I DON’T KNOW! What do you want me to say? That I killed him. It just happened so fast. There was blood everywhere and I tried to stop it in time and I tried to pull her off Uncle Gerald and next thing I know, I get knocked down to the ground. I wake up and the next thing I saw was fire around me. There wasn’t anything left of his fa-God.

It’s me.

I - Oh god - I should have saved him.

I killed him.

Oh god, I killed him.

Why?

INTERROGATOR 2: C’mon, get out here, Simon, you broke the poor kid. Look, Moses, you didn’t kill your Uncle, you didn’t kill your Uncle. Who was it? A woman - A man - Give me a name -

---

The pencil splintered in half, the top half of it bouncing off a linoleum seat to his right and onto the floor of the public bus. Mo’s hands still grasped the fragments of the broken pencil, moving and sketching a ghost drawing onto the notebook. He paused in his breathe, realising that everyone next to him was now looking at him as he put the notebook back into his rucksack. Well, only two people. That being, an old grandmother and a shifty man who was tucked back within the shadows of the truck, a pungent oil-like aroma sticking to his clothes. He massaged his right hand, taking out a loose splinter that was caught in between his index knuckles.

The bus rolled to a lurching stop, shuffling backwards and forwards before the hydraulic doors opened with a hiss. He stepped off and began to walk towards his flat, Rhombus’s pizza carefully stowed under the crook of his right elbow and his spray-painting supplies packed in his rucksack. Glenvale was located on the outskirts of the urban fringe of Santa Celia, near one of the main roads that led into the towering monolithic structure of Rook Bridge. It was a 5 story tall building that was squat and sheltered between the walls of two other apartment buildings like a scrawny kid shouldered between two jocks.

Moses began to walk towards the apartment doors, his mind still locked in thought while that same oily odour lingered around. Hell, if he thought about it - maybe, it was just the paint on his jacket. He sniffed the air once again, only to taste the familiar scent of sweat and pickled paint accrued after a long day at work. Giving a brief wave to the guard on duty, Moses entered the entrance and began to walk up at a brisk pace up towards his own room. A minute later of wondering why the concept of elevators hadn’t reached Glendale yet, Moses thumping footsteps, laden with fatigue, reached the front of his door. Number 105.

The door clicked and opened with a rusty whine. Moses waved his arms blindly in the darkness, feeling for the walls before managing to locate the small switch. He flipped it on and the low humming glow of incandescent light bulbs filled the apartment. It was more like a makeshift art studio. Unfinished sketches and paintings filled and crammed every corner of the room. There was a menagerie of pencil and marker sketches tacked to the right wall. A pile of overflowing scribbles choked the waste-bin. Moses signed as he palmed his paint-speckled face, dropping his rucksack and pizza onto his moth-eaten bed, ready to drop onto it and have a good night of sleep.

Then, something wet and sticky wrapped around his lower foot, causing to fall and face-plant onto the sodden wooden floorboards. He groaned as his body was slowly dragged and lifted up, choking at the smell of noxious fumes of burnt paint. He then felt coarse digits, thick as meat-shop sausages, wrapped around the edges of his jacket before his entire back was slammed against the wall with unnatural strength. He blinked for a second, taking a moment to put his senses together, before retching at the sight at what was in front of him.

The man’s features were contorted like some sort of obscure abstract painting by a psychopath, every orifice in his face in the wrong location yet still somehow talking. His clothes were made out of a combination of old art-room manila paper and crumpled newspaper. Droplets of wet thinning oil fell of its chin. There was a wet soggy path of paint that dripped behind him, leeching permanently into the surfaces of the room and seemingly fusing it with his entire painted body. It shouldn't have moved or existed yet it was animated with grotesque movements. Something stretched and cracked on its face to produce sound, as it spoke in the mixture of a high-pitched woman’s voice and the slurred masculine voice of a drunkard.

“ Never clean up your messes, do you, Aristonancer?”

Wha -

Moses didn’t have time to respond as the man threw him across the room, his body flailing around mid-air for a moment before crashing into a canvas bed and breaking it in half. He struggled to stand up, cringing at the pangs of broken ribs in his chest before he was once again grabbed by the neck and forced face to face with the entity.

“ Then, again, I guess you inherited it from Gerald.”

How? -

He was slammed again back towards the wall several times in a row savagely without any mercy whatsoever. The wind had been taken out of his lungs before the distortion began to choke him, placing both its melted fingers across his neck and pressing like a vice clamp. It whispered towards him, a playful cadence in its voice.

“ Come on, Moses, show me. Show me like you showed Gerald.”

It somehow knew his name. Dark spots began to dance in Moses vision as he gasped like a beached fish, his mouth open and begging for air but receiving nothing. He needed to get out of this situation. His arms wildly flopped around, searching for anything to use as a weapon. He could feel nothing except for the canvas, the paper, his paintings, all useless. He was nothing. He was going to die in this apartment, alone and -

FOOL, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOUR PURPOSE?

No. That was impossi-

YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY TO BANISH THE DISTORTION.

Moses turned his head towards the right. A blurry white canvas. A half-finished painting. It would be better than nothing. He began to reach out towards the canvas slowly, his fingers crawling towards it for just one touch, the distortion slowly throttling him harder and harder and when he did touch it -

Nothing happened.

Before everything filled with colour.

An aurora of burning energy seared the nerves in his right hand as he sunk it into the painting. A kaleidoscope of radiant colours, like an rainbow atomic bomb going off in slow motion, filled his vision for a moment whilst he concentrated to wrestle the energy under his control. It was a sensation akin to finding a lost puzzle piece and inserting it into himself. His heart trembled with nervous excitement as he drew out the object. No, the trinket.

He felt the distortion’s grasp on him grew weak as it drew backwards, growling at the sight of the trinket in his hands. He coughed, his neck bright red from the pressure of the creature’s hold. He took a gander at his drawn trinket - the first one that he’d summoned in years - and then, frowned in frustration.

Seriously, a frying pan?

In his hands was a large metallic green pan that was folded like origami, hurting his mind the more he looked at it. He recognized where it came from. It was a art project that he’d kept out of nostalgia from Arido that was an attempt at imitating cubism. It glowed like melted glass, a soft candle-light suffusing the darkness of his flat. Its smooth grip had a waxy consistency to it. It was the complete opposite of 'intimidating'.

Well, there was no use complaining now.

He looked at the intricate cooking implement in his hand and then, at the monster in front of him. A second extended into an eternity of befuddled thoughts, nerve-wracking anxiety and trepeditation. The distortion craned its neck curiously before a pleasurable sign came out of its mouth, as if in anticipation.

“Finally.”

His grasp tightened onto his weapon - frying pan - as the distortion lunged towards him in a feral movement.

He raised the trinket with a gulp.

And then charged his past head on.

---

Kyle removed a small bauble from his inner coat pocket and held it in his hand to observe. What looked like a small marble, a faint yellow glow encased within it. “Concussive but non-lethal.” He said, “Yet lacking a bit in subtlety.”

“It’ll be fine.” Kayla said, “Just toss it, take a look at the scene, get some pictures, and bail. In and out.”

“And what will you be doing with our friend the cameraman?” Kyle asked, turning his attention away from the marble, towards his sister.

“I’ll just get whatever I can out of him and book it. Then we’ll meet up in there.” She replied, pointing in the direction of what appeared to be a small bar - the Tír na nÓg. Pretty exotic name for a watering hole.

“Already planning on getting a drink?” Kyle asked.

“Just move it.”

The two moved away from each other, Kyle approaching the crime scene. He stopped behind the crowd and took a moment to scan the situation once more. His eyes wandered just a bit above their heads, and he caught sight of something hovering above the alley - a small drone. Kyle narrowed his brow at the sight of it, slightly wary. Someone else was trying to get their own read of the situation - probably the man with the camera whom Kayla was actively pursuing. He fiddled with the marble in his hand, in his pocket, as he attempted to formulate a proper plan.

Meanwhile, Kayla was following her person of interest closely. The man had slipped back into the crowd, but she had seen him do it, and thus he was easy enough to track. She caught up with and then passed Kyle, who was surveying the situation, and following the man across the street as he turned into a nearby alley. Kayla stopped short of the alley the man had slipped into, pressing herself against the wall of the building. She absentmindedly removed her gloves, and turned the corner into the alley after the man. Riley was leaning against one of the alley walls, and his attention firmly on his phone so he didn’t hear her approach until she was close. He looked up just in time to see Kayla press her right hand on his chest, where his heart was, and her left hand shoving his head back against the wall with her thumb between his eyes.

”Lle will khila, lle will naa amin ar' amin ereb.” Kayla spoke with an otherworldly hum to her voice, her eyes and Riley’s glazing over and going milky white. Riley’s hands flew up to her arms, trying to shove her away but found the appendages far too limp and weak. Kayla hummed, and her eyes returned to their normal blue-grey color, her will having successfully dominated Riley’s.

“I’m sorry, sir.” She began. “I need you to tell me-” Riley’s strength returned momentarily and he resisted, but Kayla forced him back once more. “Uma il- karna amin nwalka!” she said sternly. Riley’s grip slackened, and he released her arms. “Good. This is much easier if you go with it. For both of us.”

She took a deep breath again, regaining her focus. She closed her eyes and searched his mind. “You’re an ex-cop, so think of me as the same for matters like this. I need you I need you to tell me everything you know. Everything.”

There was a moment of silence as Riley’s mouth opened and closed, as if he was trying to speak, but he could not form words. Eventually though, he found the ability to speak. “My- my name is Riley Sheridan. There has been a string of murders, four bodies in a week. Their throats are torn open, and their bodies are drained of blood.” He said, almost frantically, his hands pressed against the wall of the building. Kayla saw this, and relaxed her grip on the man’s mind. When she was taught this spell, she was first forced to experience it. It was… uncomfortable to say in the least. Like an itch that couldn’t be scratched, or an eyelash in your eye that you couldn’t remove. “Three men, one woman.There is one witness named Oliver Whittle. He’s in-” Riley stagnated, then seized. Kayla winced and soothed his mind, bringing the man back from the edge. “Keep talking.” she instructed.

“He’s at the Murdoch Mental Hospital.”

“Anything else?”

“I think whatever’s doing this is in my journal.” He finished.

“Where is your journal?”

“On the ground, in my backpack. I have footage of the bodies using my phone and a drone and-”

“Quel kaima.” Kayla stated gently, and the man fell limp and asleep. Kayla cradled his head down, gently lowering his body to the floor. She knelt down, and went through Riley’s backpack, humming in satisfaction when she pulled out the journal he had told her about.

“Where oh where did you get this, Sheridan?” she said to herself, quickly flipping through some of the pages quickly. This was an old book. Likely worth a good deal to the right buyer, but it would be more useful in her hands for the time being. She moved the man’s backpack under his head to act as a makeshift pillow, and put her hand on his chest once again. “Thank you, Sheridan.” She looked over to the man’s phone, which displayed what the drone could see. She reached over and turned the phone off by pulling the battery out. The drone, having lost signal, would surely fall out of the sky too. She placed the device in the man’s pocket and stood up. She made her way to the entrance of the Tír na nÓg, but didn’t go inside. Instead, opting to wait for her brother to catch up to her.

Still coming up with a plan, Kyle continued to scan the scene. Beside the fact that he didn’t want to go using any of his tools in public, he was unsure if the flash bomb would even provide him with enough time or cover to set up a good picture of the crime scene. If he could instead get his hands on the drone, he wouldn’t have to risk stepping into the scene himself. He looked back up at the hovering device, wondering how he could…

And just as he started thinking on it - too much thinking and not enough acting, if he was being honest with himself - the drone suddenly began to plummet, veering towards the alley’s entrance. It landed near the edge of the crowd with an audible thud, a couple small pieces flying off the side. Damaged - but the SD card would likely be intact.

Screw it.

Kyle put the marble away, seeing no need for it now, and hurried over. He knelt down beside the drone, picking it up and looking over the SD card slot. He pushed it down to pop it out, grabbing and pocketing it while leaving the drone itself on the ground. He then fled the scene before anyone could come over to see what exactly he was doing, figuring they’d be more focused on the drone itself. The cameraman, Riley Sheridan, was probably going to have a bit of stolen - and slightly damaged - property, to deal with. Oh well.

Kyle approached his sister at the entrance to the bar. “You good?” He asked her.

“I’d say so.” She said, looking up from the journal she had taken. She closed the book, giving her brother her full attention. “Sheridan’s sleeping like a baby. Should wake up sometime soon. What’d you get?”

Kyle pulled out the drone’s SD card and held it up.

“Alright. Let’s head inside- we’ll talk about what we found in there.”

“Mind telling me how subtle you were with our friend first?”

“I hypnotized him, had him tell me what he’s gathered. When he wakes up, he won’t remember me. If he does, it won’t be for a long time.”

“Alright. Good enough.”

“Don’t worry so much.”

With that, the two slipped inside the bar and into the two barstools at the far end. The bartender would no doubt get to them soon.

@Lord Wraith

---

---

As the man now looked away, Natalie decided to shelve that strange stare for thinking about later. For now, she just needed caffeine. Nicole then addressed her, and Natalie answered. It would be rude not to. "Trust me, I'm not worried about falling asleep. I had a long day at work, at the fast food restaurant over on Argyle Boulevard. Besides, I've heard that having a coffee late helps you sleep better, or something."

As her double espresso was bring made, the guy who'd been staring at her walked over to her. For such an imposing figure, he seemed unsure of himself as he talked to her. It wasn't shyness or timidity, it was more like he was choosing the right words and mulling them over carefully. Though, when he asked her about her hand, it was Natalie's turn to start humming and hawing, and picking her words very carefully. She couldn't very well tell him the truth, or anything even remotely resembling the truth. Should she tell him she got it at work? But what if he somehow found out? No, she better tell him she got it at home.

"Oh, this?" she answered, raising her bandaged hand. "I was washing a glass up, and I was holding it too hard. Sometimes I don't know my own strength," she was about to laugh, but stopped herself. 'I don't know my own strength?' Jesus, Nat, be more careful! What if he was staring because he's from H.A.T. and he recognised you? You could have just given yourself away!

@JunkMail@chukklehed

---

It was on the western side of Santa Celia, in a warehouse long unused by the main city. Where landowners and local authorities generally turned a blind eye, because venturing in, wouldn’t guarantee an exit for unwanted guests. For this was one of the many stations of the Koshiki clan, a branch from the Inagawa family of Yakuza.

Although it functioned in a way that was pretty much the same as any other warehouse, this was primarily the place where the Koshiki received imports, be it from other criminal organizations or otherwise. Tonight though, goods came from the former today, as the Wah Ching had gotten supplies from their headquarters, as per request from the waka gashira.

Usually all they requested from the Chinese were weapons in exchange for funds. It was typically all they wanted anyway. Apparently they managed to get their hands on some explosive ammunition. It would be very useful in their shared goal to expand their territory in Santa Celia. The Mafia outnumbered them by a good margin. This should help in evening the odds.

Or at least, these were the thoughts of Jin Todoroki, the shatei gashira of the clan. He was overseeing this operation.

Just as garage doors were opening, Jin was met by one of the younger recruits on the upper floor. “They have arrived.” The lad announced, and Jin nodded.

[“Good. Have the others bring out the cases of cash.”]*

“Do you think everything will run smoothly? After all, we are still not sure if,--”

[“Ease yourself. Things of such nature happen all of the time in this business. Again, they work with us, they wouldn’t be the ones to do something so stupid. Now, go do as I have asked.”] Jin interrupted him, clearly annoyed by the question.

It was easy to echo the words of the one in command just above him, but Jin wasn’t all too sure himself in confidence of those words. One of their little brothers had been been recently found murdered in an alley. Evidence suggested that the Wah Ching were responsible, but there was no true confirmation. Thus, there was a tension from the Koshiki to the Chinese. However, it was easier to believe that the two allied groups that dominated this section of the town would continue in such a fashion.

This would go smoothly. What could possibly go wrong?

---

---

Zhenguang had finally made it to front doors of the apartment building, pulled out some keys and opened them, to pass through the lobby. He walked down a hallway and at the end of it pushed a button to call for the elevator. His home now was a decent sized apartment with prices even he could raise a brow at. Granted, the clan made the landlord significantly lower their prices for him to be able to stay there.

Though, he still had to work for it to be able to maintain comfortable circumstances, it wasn’t like he was in a penthouse suite. Keeping up a job as a DJ around the city was fairly competitive, so he was looking more into producing for singers and rappers. Zhen already did this for his brother, Ito, but his music wasn’t selling, no matter how much he promoted it.

With that said, tonight was a night where he was going to be heading out on patrol. Word on the street was that the group from the Wah Ching were getting tired of getting pushed around by the Yakuza, and intended to do something about it. The Chinese triad from San Francisco worked with the Koshiki clan in Santa Celia for quite some time. Naturally, China got to the US first, but, the Koshiki got to Santa Celia first. It was a turf war first, as his father explained, that became an alliance in a system that worked against them both.

Tonight was supposed to be a big trade between them, but something reeked of sabotage. It could get really messy, and Zhen wasn’t exactly in the mood for dealing with a full on war between them. Too many people would be involved, and too many innocents would be threatened. That meant that he was going to have to get involved and stop the trade from going down.

Thus, the elevator doors opened and Zhen started out though he nearly bumped into a middle-aged woman.

"Oh, pardon me, Mr. Khan." A raspy, female voice apologized. The young man slightly smiled in recognition. This lady was named Maria Barker, one of his neighbors that he often helped out from time to time. Her and her husband worked at a buffet that the clan frequented when they were looking for American and Italian food options. They got the typical ‘pay for protection’ routine, but Zhen more often than not, covered for them out of his own pocket secretly.

"It’s fine, Mrs. Barker."

“Are you okay? Did you happen to get caught in that traffic?” She asked as they were trading places from the elevator.

His expression shifted to a light concern. "No, what traffic?"

The cistern-shaped woman combed a few fingers through her reddish hair. "Well, apparently some mobsters are on a high-speed chase around the city. It’s looking really dangerous out there and it’s causing a lot of traffic too." Mrs. Barker explained.

Zhen's head shook. He had taken notice of her statement as she was departing though. "Are you sure you want to be out with something like that happening?"

"Not really, but Calvin needs my help at the restaurant as the place is pretty packed today. Let’s just hope that the place doesn’t become a drive-thru." She replied. It was clear that the latter part was meant to be a joke, but on the flip side, also very serious.

The martial artist merely shrugged at that particular statement. “Well, be careful out there.” Was his final admonition as the doors closed. That sounded bad, but the police were already in pursuit, and no doubt, another one of these upcoming ‘superheroes’ could step in as well.

However, with what he knew about, it seemed much more important and that’s where his priority would lie today. Such thoughts propelled him to hurry to his residence and zip through the living room to his bedroom. There, in the closet, was a large black trunk. Assumably it’d be for holding one’s very important items, but there was no lock on it. The young man simply lifted the latch on the front to open the top.

Inside the trunk were some varying clothes, money, a first aid kit, typical things one would keep for emergency situations. However, instead of touching any of those, he pulled out a crowbar. Promptly, he walked to the edge of his bed and placed one end of the crowbar to the bottom boxspring of it. Pulling it upward ajar, Zhen pushed up the bed with his freehand, which reclined slowly as though on hinges, until it was flatly vertical against the wall.

Within the hollowed rectangular box was an assortment of weapons and tools attached. He glanced around aimlessly for a moment, before going directly for a somewhat flattened black box centerpiece. From it, came the scowling face of a scarlet shikami mask.

This should do…

_{* Language Change: Japanese}

---

^Midnight

The streets of Santa Celia always seemed different at night. During the day everyone had a place to be, a friend to chat with, or an important phone call to make as they passed through the streets. All of the healthy, everyday folks filled the city with a chaotic hum. At night, they all retired; they preferred to stay indoors, where it was safe and comfortable. Those who took to the streets under the moonlight were the odd ones: the outcasts, the night owls, the ones who roamed the streets endlessly in search of booze, drugs, or pleasure. Most of the crime in Santa Celia took place in the silence of the night. The day was for the citizens, but the night was owned by the criminals.

The word silent is a term used loosely in Santa Celia. While nights in Santa Celia are considered silent compared to the cacophony of the day, the quiet never lasts longer than five minutes at best. Intermittent sounds fill the night with eerie tones. A car speeds through the streets, its tires screeching as it makes a sharp turn. In the distance, the shouts of a drunk man echo against the walls of an alley. In another direction, an infants cry is heard through an open window. Another way, a gunshot fills the air and soon sirens wail through the streets.

Eli stepped soundlessly through the shadows, her feet barely making a sound against the concrete as she listened to these sounds. Her bright eyes peered through the lace mask, slowly taking in her surroundings. Which direction would she take tonight? Would she venture far away from her side of the city, or stay in the area she knew as well as the back of her hand? She couldn't decide, so she continued to stroll through the night, listening and waiting for a chance to take action. She found herself heading downtown, where she was familiar with the stretch of bars and clubs mixed into the lavish restaurants and shopping centers of Santa Celia. There was always trouble where there was booze.

It didn't take long before Eli could hear a distant cry of help, followed by a muffled scream. Eli's head snapped to look in its direction before her body turned and dashed towards it. As the distance between herself and the scene shortened, she could could hear two gruff voices speaking alongside the terrified whimpers of a distressed woman. She neared the corner of a wall and pressed her back against it before slowly peeking around the corner into the alley. Two men roughly in their late-twenties had a woman no older than 24 pressed against a dumpster. A scraggly, small man covered the woman's mouth with one hand, and in the other hand he held a gun at her stomach. A tall, ghostly man was rummaging through her purse and pocketing any cash, credit cards, or other items he deemed valuable. He finished quickly and tossed the purse aside, then turned to look at his partner. "Get 'er jewelry. This bitch came out of The Parlour. She must'a paid at least a hundred bucks to get in. Nobody's gonna walk inta that kind of club wearing fake diamonds."

The shorter one grinned, bearing his yellow teeth to the woman. "Alright, lil lady. Take off your jewelry, hand it over to my buddy here, and you'll get out of this okay. Any funny business and you'll regret it. Capiche?" The woman, overwhelmed by her fear, simply wailed into the man's hand. The man growled and moved to press the gun against her head. "Now!" Eli felt her entire body tense with rage as the woman became nothing more than a sobbing mess. Without another second to waste, she stepped into the alley and pulled the baton from her waist. It snapped open, and Eli hit it against a metal pipe close by. As the men were startled by the noise, Eli focused her mind on theirs and altered their perception of the sound to be loud enough to overwhelm their eardrums.

The taller man collapsed to his knees, covering his ears and groaning. “What the fuck!?” He wailed. His partner cried out, removing his hand from the woman's mouth to cover his ear. He turned to see Eli standing five feet before them, poised next to another pipe in case she needed to replicate the sound. “Who the fuck are you?” He shouted as he released the woman and covered his other ear with the gun. The woman sunk to her knees and stared at the men as if they had gone crazy. To her, the noise had barely been enough to cause an echo in the alley.

Eli glared at the men before her and gripped the baton tighter. “Give the woman back her belongings or you’re going to find out the hard way,” she hissed. As an incentive, Eli banged the baton against the pipe once more, raising the volume of the sound loud enough for them to think they felt pain. The men wailed together, each clutching at their ears tighter than before.

“Fuck. You.” The man with the gun growled through his teeth. The second man seemed to agree with his partner. “Shoot her, Russ! She ain’t human!” Just as Russ began to aim his gun towards the masked woman, Eli raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Within seconds, the men’s perception of depth drastically malfunctioned. The ground beneath them fluctuated like a wave in the ocean, and the walls in the alley seemed to sway like trees in the wind. Their heads were suddenly overcome with dizziness and nausea. Both men groaned, and the shorter one joined his partner on the ground. The gun fell from Russ's hand\ and clattered against the concrete. Eli swiftly stepped forwards to kick it aside. "Uugghh, I'm gonna be sick," Russ moaned aloud. "What the fuck is goin' on?" His partner didn't respond; instead, he turned and proceeded to empty his stomach onto the ground.

Eli grimaced at the sight. She quickly turned her attention elsewhere, to the woman who still sat in shocked silence. "Are you alright? Don't worry, they'll be like this long enough for the police to arrive." As the woman seemed to collect herself, Eli grabbed her purse from the ground and helped the woman to her feet. She pulled the woman's phone from her purse, dialed 911 for her, and gave it to her. "You know what to do. Take care of yourself, okay?" She said with a soft smile. She could only imagine what was going on inside of the woman's head right now.

The woman opened her mouth, as if to say something or ask Eli a question, but Eli was already walking away. An emergency operator answered the phone, and the woman raised the phone to her ear. "Y-yes, I've.. I've been mugged.... No, they're still here. Someone stopped them..."

Eli turned the corner of the alley and stopped. She had to stay close to the men in order to keep the illusion going. She saw a fire escape above her and climbed up onto the second story. From there, she listened to the woman give the operator her location and soon sirens blazed through the city. Eli stayed until the police arrived, ensuring that the men were still feeling the effects of their punishment. As soon as the first officer stepped out of his car, Eli disappeared into the night. She was beginning to feel the toll of her abilities weigh her body down, but she pressed on. Eli would not rest until she was overwhelmed with exhaustion. So she continued to stick to the shadows of the streets, ready for the next cry of help to pierce through the not-so-silent night.

---

"Oh, this? I was washing a glass up, and I was holding it too hard. Sometimes I don't know my own strength,"

Now that Archie was closer to her, he could very clearly see who he was dealing with. This was in fact the girl from the house. She was wearing the same clothing, and the way that she spoke... Archie was no expert in humans, but over the years he had learned the behaviors of a person that was obviously lying. This woman had not hurt herself cleaning dishes. She had hurt herself on a blade. She was a person of inhuman capabilities like himself and Nicole. He very briefly considered the likelihood of the three of them just happening into one another at such an odd hour, but quickly pushed it from his thoughts. Lady luck seemed to enjoy playing the game of chance with his life this evening.

He took a deep breath and decided to take a somewhat safer approach. To speak in such a way that only she would know what he was talking about- if this woman really was the person he saw only hours ago. "I'm sorry to hear that you cut yourself, must've been a particularly large piece of glass." He said. He reached up to his neck and shoulder and pulled aside his shirt to show her the two small bruises that he had left over from being shot in his reptilian form. "I'm sorry you had to... see that. Earlier, I mean. In the house."

And there it was. If she was there, she'd know. If she wasn't she'd think he was a weirdo or a creep. Only time would tell if his intuition was correct. Nicole's acceptance had him riding a particular high that made him feel like he could make things right without risking himself. Even if she was scared of him, at least she would know that there was more than just anger and scales to his person.

---

@Silver Carrot

---

The Fosters… didn’t quite know how to respond to the bartender’s question, following her rather intense indulgence of the bottle of rye in her hand. The two of them sat there, with faces fixed in expressions combining both amazement and concern. Kyle was the first to snap out of it, when he realized his amulet was vibrating in the mere presence of the bartender. He tapped Kayla’s arm and, with her attention turned to him, lightly tapped his chest a few times - his long-used sign that their immediate company was not of the mundane variety.

Kayla straightened up, and whispered “Elea.” under her breath. Immediately her vision changed to a form of aura-sight. The people around her immediately lit up, and then returned to normal. People like Kyle, normal people, did not have any particularly strong aura that stuck out to her, but the supernatural were immediately apparent to her. The bartender, as well as a man at the other end of the bar were illuminated by a red hue. The man, who was feverishly counting peanuts, couldn’t have been anything other that a vampire. The waitress on the other hand didn’t seem to be acting or doing anything outside of the normal. That either meant she was extremely dangerous, or that she meant no harm to them at all. From experience Kayla had learned that there was no inbetween.

“Anything domestic that isn’t shiner bock.” Kayla replied evenly. The last thing she’d want to do is alert this being that they knew of her presence if they were in fact unfriendly. The bartender looked at Kyle, indicating she was awaiting his request of drink as well. Once he caught on, he simply replied, “Uh, nothing for me, thank you.” As Ellara moved away to get Kayla her drink, she took the opportunity to address her brother.

“Guy at the end, sucky sucky type. Waitress, dunno.”

“Why do you always say ‘sucky sucky’, it’s just… uncomfortable.” Kyle replied in a hushed tone.

“It’s supposed to be uncomfortable and make people not want to listen.” Kayla replied, elbowing her brother lightly. That was only half true. She did quite enjoy annoying her brother like this. It was harmless enough.

“Alright, fine, what to do then?”

“I didn’t exactly predict having a beer with those we service this fine evening.” Kayla sighed, her hand falling to her satchel and feeling the book she had stolen. “Maybe we can ask her if she knows anything. When it happened. You do it, she might be able to sense me.”

“Alright.”

The bartender returned to the two with Kayla’s drink in tow. As she took it, Kyle went on to ask Ellara, “Ma’am, do you know anything about what’s going on outside? With the police?”

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Ellara raised an unamused eyebrow before deciding, “Dude, I’m definitely younger than your whiskered ass.” She retorted before continuing, “But uh, yeah I’ve heard some chatter from tonight’s crowd, mostly rapid speculation.” Ellara replied as she placed a dark lager filled glass in front of the woman, keeping her eyes averted least her face change again. Looking for somewhere else to direct her eyes, Ellara turned her head back towards the man counting the peanuts before looking at the pair again, keeping her gaze focused on the male.

“But uh, hey, you two called the douchenozzle down there a ‘sucky-sucky’,” Ellara stated, quoting the sibling’s previous conversation before motioning towards the man at the opposite end of the bar with a wave of her hair, “Do the two of you think he’s some kind of strung out hooker?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Gotta say the asshole has got that look going for him, the fucker’s even got the fuckin’ Cult’s colours wrapped ‘round his wrist.” She asked looking back at Kyle as she tried to figure out if the pair were some sort of cops. “They’re becoming a real problem ‘round here.”

Kyle’s only response was to look down, pinch the bridge of his nose, and mutter under his breath, _{“Oh for fuck’s sake…”} Kayla, meanwhile, just snickered in amusement. After a moment, Kyle raised his head back up and said, “Wait, cult? What cult?”

“Ellara!” Sullivan called from behind the bar as Ellara took a moment to look back at him.

“What?” She replied hollering over the din of the bar as she responded to Paddy.

“C’mon lass, I can hear ye from back here. Language! Especially with the customers. I only want positive reviews!” He called back as Ellara let a sharp breath out of her pursed lips, huffing as she blew a few strands of loose hair out of her face.

_{“Fuck off, Paddy.”} She muttered turning back to her guests.

“The fuckin’ 6^th Street Blood Cult,” Ellara replied dryly resuming their conversation, “‘Course they’re a cult in fuckin’ name only. They’re a damned gang of fuckin’ bloodsuckers.” She clarified before continuing.

“The Cult have a whole harem of janky-ass women who seduce the local barflies and general assholes. They get ‘em with a free hit of whatever designer drug they’ve got this damned week and then keep you fuckin’ hopped up until they bleed you dry, sometimes for real.” Ellara added ominously before continuing.

“Bodies show up along the beach that are little more than empty husks.” She explained, pausing as she took a moment to think before adding a final remark. “Really ain’t that different than the fucker currently leaving bodies on the streets, y’know?”

“Jesus Christ.” Kyle exclaimed in bewilderment of hearing about Santa Celia’s current conditions. He was amazed people weren’t leaving the town in droves if bodies were becoming this common. He was starting to think two Tourists weren’t going to be anywhere near enough to make a difference here.

“Out of the frying pan, into the fryer.” Kayla hummed, resting her chin on her free hand. “So, you heard us earlier. I hope I don’t have to be concerned, after all, you wouldn’t be trying to play us for a fool right?” Kayla said, a hint of animosity to her voice that was quickly reigned in. She leaned forward in Ellara’s direction. “So what’s going on under the hood there? You’re a bit more than what poor Paddy seems to know.”

“You’re one to fuckin’ talk.” Ellara replied cooly, still avoiding eye contact with the woman. “I’ve seen your true face, and it sure as hell ain’t as pretty as the facade you keep up.”

The look on Kayla’s face was one of inherent confusion. She had been called many things in her life: annoying, a brat, a spaz, but unattractive had never been on of them. She shot a questioning look to her brother. “...Right. Well, not sure what you’re talkin’ about there, but we’re looking for the Jäger that lives in this city. Figured that it’d be good to know someone else in the business.”

“Try the fuckin’ zoo, there are no wild jaguars in California,” Ellara quickly snapped back, her knuckles turning white as her nails dug into the hard oak bar.

Kyle hovered his hand near one of his coat pockets as subtly as he could manage. As if waiting to take some sort of retaliatory action in the event that the bartender became violent. Nails digging into hard surfaces wasn’t really a good sign, ever.

Kayla hummed and shook her head at Ellara’s desperate attempt at diversion. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kyle moving his hand to his gun under the counter, but didn’t look down to check. Her brother had her back. “I think we both know I didn’t say anything about a big cat. I said Jäger. German for hunter, but a special type. Not for normal game. They’re like us, going for the more… monstrous type.”

You’re a Jäger, son. Just like your father, and his mother before him. You have a responsibility to not only your ancestors but to the world, to protect it. Only we can see the darkness in people, the monsters that hide within. This is our calling, our duty…

Faint voices echoed inside Ellara’s head as it began to pound again. Reaching a hand to her throbbing temple, she backed away from the bar as the woman continued to speak.

“Get the fuck out!” She called, stumbling as she tried to fight back the memory. “I don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talking about, just leave me alone, Ich spreche kein deutsch!” She screamed before disappearing into the kitchen as Ellara made a beeline for the backdoor.

The Fosters, as well as a good majority of the bar’s active patrons, watched Ellara’s act of escape with a look of astonishment. Multiple people murmured in surprise, one man calling out somewhat loudly, “The fuck was that?” Kyle turned his head to his sister, with an expression that had ‘confused’ etched all over it.

“I-” Kayla begin sitting back in her stool. “Honestly have no idea. I got nothin’.” She stroked her chin and looked over at the vampire, at the other end of the bar. She hummed and flicked her finger, telekinetically knocking over the bowl of peanuts that he was almost done counting. The man cursed aggressively, and dropped to the floor to pick up every piece again. That should keep him around for a while longer.

“What do we do about him?” Kyle said as covertly as he could, under the cover of the returning voices of the rest of the bar’s patrons.

“Same as we always do to his type. Interrogate and eliminate. Good ol’ one two.” She replied, taking a drink of her beer again. She was still confounded by the bartender’s reaction to her questions. She hadn’t cast anything, and didn’t think she had done anything to get that kind of response.

“Let’s just go over what we found at the crime scene.” She said, pulling the book she had stolen out and placing it on the bar. “This should be a good place to start.”

“Doesn’t that seem like something better done back in the privacy of the motel?” Kyle asked, a little wary.

“Suppose you’re right. Let’s grab our sucky sucky friend and step outside.” She said, slipping the book back into her satchel. “Would you do the honors, Kyle?”

---

---

Natalie read the doubt in Archie's face, and had shrunk a little, incredibly defensive and cautious. She was waiting to see what he'd do next, but there was some kind of desperate fear in her eyes akin to a cornered animal that is seconds away from fighting back. His next words weren't an allusion to Project Lion, or her real name, so she sighed with some relief as she carried on listening. When he showed her his bruises and made allusions to the house. It instantly clicked, and she excitedly pointed.

"It's you! You're the...from the....!" she squeaked, before laughing with relief, all tension gone. Jesus! For a second, I thought you were from...you know, it doesn't matter. So, you're him from the house, huh? Well, I guess we both know each other's secrets now," she answered, keeping it vague and watching Nicole from the corner of her eye. Natalie didn't seem weary of Archie even after learning his secret. In her mind, he was being civil, in his human costume, after an incident where he showed her that he was a monster. And the reverse was equally as true. They had a lot in common, and she could sympathise with him. It was that they were so similar that neither was afraid of the other, because both were too afraid of themselves.

@JunkMail

_{Location Doctor Faust's Manor - Outskirts of the city}

Part 3

---

The night was drawing to halfway done and the sun would rise in another 3 hours. Joseph was asleep, but barely. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, having a dream - a nightmare. He was reliving the night. From the savage beating he took, the baseball bat and wrenches they used to break just about every bone in his body, how they destroyed his knees, pulled out every finger nail and pulverized his ribs with kicks. How they burned his hand to the bone with the welding torch. Finally, they brought back the bat and the biggest of the bunch, Tomas 'Triggerman' Scaletti, hit Joseph with it, hard enough to crack his forehead and knock him out cold. a 40 minute drive to the other side of town, just him and Scaletti where Scaletti put him on his knees at the crossroad outside of Faust's mansion and pulled the trigger.

His eyes shot open as he felt the scar on the back of his neck - the scar from the burning hot pipe of the gun burn once again. He heard voices inside of the house. A break-in. Looters.

They hadn't entered the room he was in, instead walking around in the main hall downstairs, Joseph crawled out of bed and peered out of the door he was in. They were armed. Two of them with baseball bats, a third with a shotgun. He could clearly tell that the two armed with the bats carried handguns in their waists. They weren't just random burglars. They were hitters.
Joseph was still far from lucid, his motor skills barely worked. He could barely stand and his head was still ringing by a billion wasps.

But he knew that he couldn't call the cops - he'd never make it to the phone. The Doctor was probably asleep in his lab which Joseph somehow knew was a panic room and was certainly able to barricade himself in it. "Where the fuck is that Conjo Detective?!" One of them told the others.

So they are here for me. Joseph thought. How did they know he was still alive, more so, how did they know he was here?

"Check upstairs, puto." The other one said to the guy, whom shrugged and headed upstairs, bat in hand.

Joseph quickly looked for something - a weapon. It wouldn't take long for the thug to make his way up the stairs and into the guest quarters - it was a logical layout of the house.

You're gonna die. Again. The voice within him mused. Joseph shook his head. He was weak, and he was tired. But he hadn't beaten death once already just to get killed while in recovery. It just wouldn't play out that way.

Looking around for a weapon, it dawned on him as he saw the silhouette of the thug coming around the corner that he didn't need a weapon. He had titanium plated knuckles. He hadn't really thought of his new hand earlier. It hadn't dawned on him that the doctor had amputated his the one Scaletti had taken apart and burned to a crisp. Joseph as silently as he could, shifted towards the other side of the door, so the thug couldn't see him upon entering the room. He didn't have much sense for balance, so standing up was incredibly difficult and not an activity worth pursuing at this point.

He waited. counted the steps. four, three, two- the man opened the door.

One. "Fuckin' Mice." The thug exclaimed as he checked the room. Though, he was stumped when he saw the very clearly recently used bed. "Ay, hombres! Bed over here. Recently slept in!" He shouted, turning around and as he did, he saw the gold eyes of the detective flash as the dark grey of the metal hand pulverized his face. The guy fell to the floor and Joseph did the same, losing his balance. The thug was knocked out cold and his entire face from eyebrow to cheekbone was bleeding - looking almost caved in. Like he had been hit with a sledge.

"The fuck happened. Carlos?!" One of the other men shouted and headed up the stairs. Joseph would have scrambled for the thug's gun, but he never had much of a chance to do so. The other two thugs were running up the stairs, Joseph had to abandon his quarters and moved into the corridor, hiding in the shadows. One of the men walked into his quarters, seeing Carlos's limp body on the floor. "What the fuck happened?!" He shouted, cocking the shotgun, the other man was pulling his gun, as Joseph tackled him from behind, pushing him into the other.

"That's fucking him! Puto!" The thug shouted as he scrambled to his feet from the floor, Joseph turning around and limping out into the corridor, putting some distance between the two. Swiping a vase from the shelf above, he swiftly turned and flung it at the thug exactly as he turned the corner. It hadn't dawned on him how impressive that timing was, he was too busy trying to figure out how he was gonna avoid getting filled with buckshot. The man with the bat cursed as the vase hit him, glass shattering. It didn't knock him out, but it certainly pissed him off. He came charging at Joseph with the bat, which was a gift in disguise, as it kept the other thug from shooting him with the shotgun - not wanting to shoot his partner. Joseph could see the trajectory of the swing of the bat and his metal hand caught the metal bat and a loud BANG was heard. Joe janked the bat towards him, disrupting the thug's footing a little, the thug used the momentum to tackle Joe, sending him to the floor on his back, falling to one knee himself. Joseph used the bat to pull himself off the ground, and as the thug was reaching for his pistol, he swung the bat into his chest, knocking him to the side. His hand slid accross the length of the bat as he held it like a spear, and flung it at the doorway, hitting the man with the shotgun in the shoulder. A shell escaped the gun, hitting the wall to the side. The man fell to the floor and swiped the bat from the ground, swinging upwards at Joe, whom tried to catch the bat but was hit in the ribs, wincing in pain but not losing focus. He went for the second swing wit hthe bat that Joe parried with his forearm. Grabbing the arm of the thug with his regular hand, the metal one came in, closing the distance and decking him in the face, sending him once again to the floor, this time out cold. Teeth and blood sprayed across the wooden floor.

Joe was holding his side as he pushed his back against the wall, keeping his balance as he grew more and more dizzy, moving towards the thug in the hallway, whom was now coming too, he reached for his gun and pointed it as Joe got in close enough to grab him. He tried pulling the trigger, but the safety was still on. Joseph caught him by the throat and with surprising amounts of ease lifted him up to his knees, pushing him against the wall.

"What. The. Fuck. Do you want? He spit the words out while putting more and more pressure around the man's throat, too hard for the man to be able to breath, never the less speak, he was fighting against the iron grip but there wasn't much he could do.

It'd be so easy. Just crush his windpipe. You know you want to. Squeeze a little bit harder. The voice said coyly. The thug fell to the ground as Joseph released his grip, holding his throat. "Ff-Fuck you." He wheezed and Joseph swiftly, albeit painfully, punched him in the face, knocking him out.

---

---

The sky above the tower was the color of midnight, bathing Sarah in rays of moonlight. The Bauer Building had been abandoned for almost a decade. Lack of structural integrity the city engineers had claimed when they shut it down. Sarah knew they were lying. The building has been stripped of anything valuable, and it was an ugly skeletal thing. A reminder of a Santa Celia that would never be. That could never be. Squatters were all that remained inside. Pathetic desperate creatures hiding in the darkness, protected only by an endless amount of bureaucratic tape, and pending lawsuits. Sarah did not hate them, but she hated their weakness. There was no place in the world for the weak. Nature did not deal in mercy.

Sarah could hear their fearful whispers from the 57th floor. They no longer dared to climb the crumbling stairs past the 40th floor. She heard them whispering her name. The Angel they whispered, the dreadful Angel had arrived, had driven off the scavengers, and the vultures that remained.

Dressed in tatters, scraps of clothing she had found, she crouched on the cold, barren concrete, wrapping her great wings around her to keep warm. A dagger cut into her head, she could feel the threads they had woven through her head. Up-hyped reflexes sending tremors through her arms. Her fingers shivered, opening and closing, digging into the bare skin of her arms. She could feel the razor blades beneath her finger nails quiver, ice cold steel finding purchase.

"You wanted to live," the familiar voice smirked. Feminine. American. Midwestern accent. She couldn't remember the face. She couldn't remember the name. But she could remember the anger. The anger that had kept her alive. The anger was all she had. She had nursed it. Kept it alive with the lost parts of hers, the parts she knew she'd never get back. "Be careful what you wish for."

"Don't look so angry. There was never a way for us to escape, Hamilton understood that, I'm sure a part of you does too. Just lay still and accept it. It will soon be over, one way or another."

Clawing at her skin, Sarah opened her eyes in burst of motion. She felt calm. She felt right. She felt strong. The memories were not important. They never were. She did not need the anger. Not anymore. She was stronger now. Better now. She was a predator. She was a bird of prey. And she could hear the vermin scurrying, scratching, and digging through the city. Filthy creatures. Weak creatures. She would not allow it. Not anymore. Not ever again.

She had prey to hunt.

With a bound, Sarah threw herself off the rooftop. She felt the wind rush past her, and pulled her wings tight against the body. She smiled, seeing the ground approaching at an maddening speed. At the last moment, she enveloped her great wings, and soared into the night sky.

The Hills were hers. They were her territory. Her hunting ground. Full of prey. Full of vice. Full of evil. She would cull the herd. She would restore order. She would make things right. She would kill, she knew. Some evils could not be forgotten, they could not be forgiven, and she would not forget. Not this time.

She knew her purpose. She could taste the certainty on the edge of her tongue. She could taste the blood, she could feel it, warm, and slick against her fingers.

The night was young, and she was a bird of prey.

---

"I see how it is."

Nicole stepped up to the girl's table, placing her drink in front of her. "I have to spend weeks digging the truth out of you, but as soon as I do you turn around and start sharing with the world?" Despite her words, Nicole's eyes were nearly sparkling. It had been a long time since she was genuinely happy for someone, but in just the last few minutes Archie seemed to have gained a support base he desperately needed. Maybe he would stop looking so gloomy all the time, and even put away that flask she sometimes saw him with.

Looking over her shoulder, Nicole made sure nobody else was about to wander in from the cold, then turned and stuck her hand out to the other girl. "Hey, I'm Nicole. I've seen you around a couple times, but we've never really talked." She was building her way up to an offer she wanted to give both of them, but she felt like it needed to come up naturally. She was worried about scaring Archie off, now that she had finally gotten him to open up, and she wanted to start trying to help him work through his problems. In this city, people might call her a bleeding heart or a fool, but Nicole could never have stopped herself from reaching out if someone was suffering right in front of her.

@Silver Carrot@JunkMail

---

---

"You have to help me! There's something unholy in this building. I don't know if it's a demon or something-"

It was a gruesome scene on the third floor of the apartment. One of the remaining armed men was using his cell phone to request backup; but, his friend refused to come. He had heard the reports of screaming for the news and didn't want anything to do with it. He bid his friend one last farewell before hanging up for good. With nobody coming to get him, he threw the phone towards the ground and began to cry for mercy.

"Come on, man... I promise to never do anything bad again. I swear to God."

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and froze in place. Too afraid to see who was behind him, the armed guy started to weep knowing that he was going to die. "You will never be innocent." was the last words that he heard before the creature bit into his neck. He cried out in anguish for a few second before he fell on the carpet and bled out. Meanwhile, Inque watched the criminal moved in extreme pain with a grin on his face. And the night was still young. Then, they realized that there was a younger couple in the room when the woman accidentally bumped into them.

She stared at them and screamed in horror as her lover dragged her out to safety with a look of shock on his face. Of course, they got used to the reactions because it happened often enough; however, they usually didn't survive the encounter. But, for the citizens, their sighting was often associated with stress for the situation. Unfazed about the encounter, Inque left the room and ended up in the hallway once more. Out of nowhere, one of the doors opened up with four armed men dragging hostages out of a room. All of them were shaken up by the noises that they heard in the past half hour. There were five people being held against their will: a husband and wife, their teenage sons, and a woman.

The three armed men were looking around for the creature to pop up at any moment. Before Inque could respond, everyone heard gunshots coming below them. It was out of the ordinary because they didn't heard any warning. But, they thought that it was done out of fear until more gunshots occurred. There was silence once more and it was the final straw for the armed men. One of them grabbed the mother and dragged her further into the hallway with a desert eagle aimed at her. The family cried out towards the guy to spare her, but he didn't care. He had a plan for a way to escape this hell.

"Show yourself, animal!" Orlando shouted. "You killed our comrades! Now, we are going to kill her unless you show your face to us!"

For the shadows, Inque watched the whole thing unfold and wondered what they should do. They never revealed themselves like this before. Then again, nothing like this ever happened. The man looked like he was actually going to kill her and Inque felt wrong if they didn't respond. He walked closer towards them and said, "Fine, We are coming. Though you need something to see us."

"Alright." Orlando said and then turning to Pablo. "Pablo, give me the flashlight."

Pablo handed the flashlight to Orlando while keeping an eye on his surroundings. With the other hand, Orlando turned on the flashlight and shined it in the hallway. And when the light source revealed them for the first time, the creature waved at them. Orlando couldn't believe what he saw and began to back away in horror. He aimed the eagle at it and fired off several rounds. But, the creature dodged most of the bullets and ran towards them. Almost immediately, he took out the unnamed armed man with a swift kick that broke his lungs and sent him flying towards one of the rooms. Orlando kept on backing away and fired two more shots before forcing to reload. Pablo attempted to escape, but he was running too slow.

Inque met up with them near the stairs and kicked Pablo off the edge of the stairs. He wasn't going to survive a four story fall. Now, Orlando was the remaining threat and he was panicking. After finishing reloading, he looked at his hostages and told them to leave besides the woman. But, she tried to leave regardless because she didn't want to be in the same room with the monster. Orlando grabbed the woman's arm in an attempt to use her as a hostage while the others escaped down the stairs. During the struggle, he didn't notice that the monster was charging towards him until it was too late.

Inque successfully tackled Orlando to the ground and saved the woman's life. Meanwhile, the woman landed near the stairs and turned to see the monster starting to tear him apart. It was nothing like in the movies as she heard the man cried out in pain and the demon kept on attacking him. She couldn't bear to watch anymore and began her escape out of here, trying to not throw up until she was reunited with her father. All in the while, Inque kept on attacking Orlando despite him pleading and crying out in absolute pain. They were going to make sure that his last moments on this planet was painful.

---

---

“Sorry sir, those have been on the floor.” Kyle said as he approached the vampire mid-counting, grabbing the bowl of peanuts and heading for the nearest door. “Let me toss them out and get you a new batch.”

“No!” The vampire snapped back, immediately getting up and chasing after Kyle, Kayla tailing behind the bloodsucker. As the three all went into the street one by one, Kayla stepped up behind the man and pressed her hand between his shoulder blades. She pushed him forwards, speaking words of power to exert her will upon the parasite. ”Natula naud, ar' bela.” Kyle, bowl of peanuts still in hand, followed the two into the alley.

She forced him aside and onto his knees, keeping him bound. Kyle approached the two, setting the bowl of nuts aside on the lid of a trash can for a moment. He retrieved a small, old leather satchel from his inner coat pocket, looking as if it had been worn and weathered by time. A ring of runes were embroidered into the fabric. Kyle opened the satchel up and from within, brandished a weapon larger than the satchel should have allowed - clearly space-affecting magic at work.

A mare’s leg, old yet well kept. Custom made, smaller than others would be. Faded iron for the metals, with an off-white foregrip, and what appeared to be the preserved upper end of a human humerus as the lever grip. Etched on the left side of the foregrip were a host of small, faded tally marks that had long stopped being added to. Etched on the right side was the sentence, ‘FOR THEE, I COMMIT TO GRAVE’.

Kayla winced somewhat at the sight of the weapon. As though she’d seen it before, and didn’t like what it represented. She did not say anything though, vampirism was incurable and this man belonged to a coven. They were problematic, and would need to be eliminated for the safety of both the mundane and the supernatural alike.

“6th street blood cult. Talk. Don't make this any harder than it has to be.”

Kayla winced as the vampire resisted her snare on his mind, no doubt trying to free itself from her grasp. “Kyle?” She questioned, shooting a sideways glance to her brother, stepping back quickly to let the man work.

Kyle stepped forward, raising the mare’s leg to the vampire’s neck, raising it under his chin to force him to look up at him. “This does not have to end with you dead.” He began, “It’s an ugly outcome that we prefer to avoid. In return for your cooperation.”

The vampire, seemed to forego its human facade and bared its teeth, all but confirming Kyle and Kayla’s suspicion. Kayla seemed to struggle for a moment, but held. “Kyle, strike him.”

And he did, with the blunt femur-grip of the mare’s leg, upon the creature’s forehead. Kayla herself, being somewhat connected to the vampire’s mind, saw stars momentarily from the force of the blow. She shook her head, returning her focus. All this activity was making her weary tonight. “I’ll ask again, all kind like, and you’ll answer. Just as kindly. Tell us about your coven. Word on the street’s that they’ve been causing a whole lot of trouble.”

“Fuck you, hexinbitch!” The vampire spat as it continued to fight against Kayla’s influence. “We’re just collecting what this asshole of a town fuckin’ owes us!” He snarled, continuing to squirm. “The fuckers take from us, so we take from ‘em. They just don’t know they’re lower on the fuckin’ food chain. Cycle of life ‘n all that, baby.”

“And what exactly do they take from you?” Kyle asked calmly, keeping the mare’s leg trained on the vampire’s neck.

“Pleasure, euphoria, highs they’ll never know anywhere else.” The vampire replied cooly, his eyes scanning both Kyle and Kayla from head to toe. “I could show you both, right here, right now.” He cooed, the vampire’s tongue snaking out his mouth and wrapping seductively around one of its elongated incisors.

Kyle and Kayla gave each other looks of severe disapproval towards the vampire. Kyle was close to hitting him again.

“Care to tell us just how strong your coven is?” Kyle asked, “Or are you just… garden variety?” Those last two words he voiced in as demeaning a tone he could muster.

“What’s a coven?” The vampire leered in response, “The 6^th Street Blood Cult is a new religion, a new doctrine and soon this whole city will be singing our hymns. My death will be meaningless, spill my blood if you must, the Father will show you mercy”

“And who is this ‘Father’?”

“Someone who in time, you’ll learn to love. The father has been in all of us, I can feel him in my veins right now. Would you like to receive him?”

Kyle gave Kayla a quick look. She nodded, bracing herself as her brother delivered another strike to the vampire’s head with the mare’s leg. “Are you responsible for that body in the alley downways from here?” Kyle asked, as the vampire recovered from the strike.

“What do you think?” The vampire smiled mischievously before spitting freshly spilled black ichor from its mouth. Nursing its fangs with its tongue, the vampire’s eyes stared back at Kyle, daring him to make a move, obviously gaining some sort of twisted enjoyment from each strike of the weapon in his hand.

The Fosters passed another look at each other. They didn’t seem all too confident in the idea that this vampire was the culprit, vague as his confession was. They figured they were done with him, for what little he spoke of. Kyle lowered the mare’s leg, turning to pick up the bowl of peanuts. He raised them above the vampire’s sight and spilled them all onto the ground, dropping the bowl afterwards.

“Count.” He said. Kayla grunted and proceeded to release the vampire from her grasp, allowing him to indulge in his weakness, which would be his undoing. As he lurched forward and began sorting the nuts into the bowl, Kyle took a step to the creature’s side. He nodded to his sister, who proceed to cast another of her spell. ”Natula dina vee' i' ba.” she spoke, and in the shape of a sphere, the air around them began to shimmer and undulate. Noise couldn’t escape it - they didn’t want the gunshot to be heard beyond just the two of them.

Kyle raised the mare’s leg to the back of the vampire’s head. Pull of the trigger, and the silver bullet ended the creature’s life in the midst of his counting. His body slumped onto the ground, motionless afterwards. The ichorous black blood blended well with the asphalt.

“Burn him.” Kyle calmly said to his sister. Kayla did as instructed and spoke once more. “Toor” She took a deep breath, and upon her release a high pressure jet of flame erupted from her mouth, incinerating the vampire’s corpse and turning it to ash. The repeated this a few times, stopping only to breath. When she was finished, she took a step back to catch her breath. In an instance where she was simply casting first she would have used her hands, but destroying a body oftentimes required a more powerful flame.

“You alright?” Kyle asked.

Kayla was bent over with her hands on her knees. She looked up at her brother and gave him a smile for his benefit. “Been busy tonight. Thanks for asking, though.” When she finally stood up properly again she looked around the alley they were in and sighed.

“So, two different types of vampire, two leads, and two problems.” She summarized.

“Let’s get back to the motel. Figure things out.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea. We need to update Parker.”

Kyle nodded. Kayla turned and headed for the alley’s exit. Kyle, however, stopped and looked down at the mare’s leg in his hand, eyeing it intently. After a moment, Kayla turned around to catch him in the act.

“Kyle.” She said softly, “Put it away.”

And so he did, back into the small leather satchel and into his inner coat pocket. They both left the alley, no trace of their actions left behind.

---

"Jesus! For a second, I thought you were from...you know, it doesn't matter. So, you're him from the house, huh? Well, I guess we both know each other's secrets now,"

"I have to spend weeks digging the truth out of you, but as soon as I do you turn around and start sharing with the world?"

Archie stuttered a few times, trying to find a way to reply properly to Nicole. For a brief moment, he genuinely thought she was upset with him. These fears were quickly dissipated when he turned around to meet his friend's gaze. He still wasn't used to thinking of that word, friend. His momentary fear melted away, and he spoke in a way that didn't at all conceal his mirth. "I kinda owed her this one. She... saw me." He said, using his hands to try to emphasize that he was not in the same state was he was in now.

"Saw you?" Nicole asked, eyebrows raised, "I guess you did say you changed. Changed how exactly? Oh, hold that thought a moment." Turning back to the door, she went to finally lock up. When Nicole returned and introduced herself, Archie mentally face-palmed for forgetting his manners. He wasn't a complete boor though, and waited his turn to make his own introduction. Natalie shook Nicole's hand, and answered the cafe owner's introduction with her own. "I'm Natalie. Yeah, I'm not....I wouldn't say I'm antisocial. Scared of opening up, maybe? Sorry for not really talking to you before now."

Archie, seeing his chance, reached towards Natalie to initiate a handshake. "Archie. Anderson. Uh, Archie Anderson." He said, offering her an awkward smile. Nice moves, Archie. For being such a lady killer in high school, his ability to talk to women had eroded quite horribly. He had been told that by the divorce counselor, that most recently divorced men had difficulty getting back into the whole flirting-dating scene. Damaged goods are always harder to sell. he thought, reminding himself of what he was deep down. He pushed those thoughts from his mind and focused on the woman in front of him. This was not the time, nor was it the place. "It's, uh, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She returned Archie's handshake, and reciprocated the smile just as awkwardly. It was certainly true that the prospect of romance didn't even cross Natalie's mind while talking to Archie, but that wasn't necessarily all Archie's fault. She hadn't moved on in the past two years, and had no desire to move on. When you watch the person you love murdered right before your eyes, you don't merely 'miss' them. You get horrible nightmares about their death every night.

"Natalie Ellis. It's nice to meet you too. At least properly. We didn't exactly talk earlier."

They shook hands and Archie, being himself, immediately feigned incredible pain as if his hand was being crushed. This was all a joke, of course. The alcohol in his system and the camaraderie or the situation was bringing out a particularly laid back side of him that was comfortable with letting loose for once. Natalie looked terrified at this, and recoiled her hand in fright. Seeing that Archie's hand was fine, the wild look in her eyes calmed down and her face relaxed. "That wasn't funny," she retorted, as she started giggling. Before long, she had put her hand over her mouth and was convulsing with repressed laughter. There were tears forming, though her eyes were gleaming with joy and relief that seemed alien and unpracticed in them. She'd never joked bout her power before. It was a stretch to even say she'd accepted it after all this time. She tried her hardest to ignore it, but Archie's joke had opened something, and all Natalie could feel right now was relief. She wasn't even sure why. Archie smiled and sat down at the table Natalie was had been at, as if to converse with her. This was somewhat exciting, and different but in a good way considering how life had been as of late. Since Nicole was locking up, he figured it was probably a good time to get out of her hair.

"Do you two want to head over to the The Tír na nÓg?" He said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to the door behind him. "Might stop other late night strays from thinking this' a good place to get some coffee."

"I'm not sure about drinking right now," Nicole hedged, "Especially right after coffee. I suppose we could go for the atmosphere though, it'd be nice to get out of the shop for a while."

"For once, I agree with you." Archie commented, glancing quickly to his coffee but not saying anything further. "But as far as bar food goes, it's pretty good."

"I don't drink, but I wouldn't mind something to eat. Besides, if I didn't go out with you guys, I'd probably just be sitting in my apartment. I could do with this," added Natalie.

With that, the three set off to the bar together with a feeling of contentment that none of them had felt in a while. They entered not long after the Fosters had left, and did their best to ignore the crime scene not far away. That was life in this city, after all.