---

^{7:00 pm}
Archie: Hey

He frowns at that. Stupid, he is. The absolute stupidest. He backspaces.

^{7:01 pm}
Archie: So, how are you?

Ugh, he thinks. It sounds so strained, like the small talk you make when you don't really want to be having the conversation. While he erases that message, too, he wonders if he should just call Natalie. That'd probably be selfish, though, because he wouldn't listen to a word she would say, but, rather, he'd listen to her voice and commit the sound to memory. That and she's probably working, she did say she had a shift earlier.

^{7:11 pm}
Archie: I missed you today.

And that— in a perfect world, that's what he should really say. That's what he's thinking, after all, and Ellie used to complain about not being able to get inside his head. There's something that won't let him send it, though. Maybe it's the fact that it's almost too candid; too sincere. They knew each other intimately, as metas and as people, but at the end of the day she had only met him recently. She might take it the wrong way. He doesn't want her to.

All he knows is that they both has chemistry with one another that he hasn't felt in a long time, and he didn't want to lose that. He erases the 'I miss you' and types.

^{7:35 pm}
Archie: Would you like to grab lunch sometime?

He hates that too, though, hates absolutely every word that's coming to his mind. He might even dislike himself a little (lot) at this point, and he's admittedly furious with himself for letting his inability to talk to her win out when it's the last thing he wanted. The text sounds so... loosey goosey? He wasn't sure. He hadn't done this in a long time. Although, he was certain that his father was rolling in his grave laughing at his self induced misfortune.

Dating is hard.

---

@Silver Carrot

---

ELI: Hello, Foster. Its Eli. Give me a call whenever you need help.
KYLE: Sorry for late response.
KYLE: Currently working.
KYLE: Will keep you updated regarding help.
ELI: Vampires or the other case?
KYLE: Latter.
KYLE: Murderer is different from normal vampires.
ELI: Could it be another franken-vamp, or some other creature?
KYLE: Sister calls it an aswang.
KYLE: Awful name, I know.
KYLE: Shapeshifting vampiric crwature.
KYLE: *creature
ELI: I’m not even going to attempt to pronounce that.
ELI: Are you drinking on the job, Foster?
KYLE: Actually, yes.
KYLE: Sister believes the aswang primarily targrts drunk people.
KYLE: *targets
KYLE: So we are, as she puts it, ‘baiting the trap’.
ELI: I hope you can handle your liquor. What’s your choice of drink?
KYLE: Tonight, jagerbombs apparwntly.
KYLE: Taking a tpll you see.
ELI: Those are pretty lethal. I’m having a manhattan at the moment. Just taking the edge off.
ELI: Have you ever been to the Tír Na NÓg?
KYLE: That’w actually where we are right now.
ELI: Well, there’s a couple sitting to your left enjoying a hefty amount of jagerbombs. You might want to get on their level.

There was no response after that. A moment passed as Eli sat and waited for Kyle to message something back, instead being met with the man himself, getting up and wandering over to her table after searching the bar for a moment.

“So you are here.” He said.

“I hadn’t realized either,” Eli explained, smiling up at Kyle. “I just stopped in for some dinner and spirits.”

“I feel I should-” Kyle began, covering his mouth as he coughed a bit due to his earlier consumptions, “A-hapologize, for… how unprofessional this looks. I will reiterate that it was… not my idea.” He turned and pointed towards his sister, still talking with the bartender.

Eli turned her head to follow his gesture, observing the two by the bar for a moment before she turned her attention back to him. “So you’re supposed to fight off a monster in this condition?” She raised her eyebrow slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“It…” Kyle began, “Does sound pretty foolish, when you say it out loud.” After a brief pause and looking about the room, he turned back to Eli and said, “We might… we could actually use your help, maybe.”

Eli glanced around as well, before gesturing for him to join her in the booth. “Tell me what you know about this thing.”

As he sat, Kyle began, “It’s a… well, a vampiric creature, as I said. Whip-tongue, mor-... morphing abilities. I’m sorry, I’m fumbling my words. I’m not the real expert on the monsters, my sis-”

“Sister!”

Kayla just about materialized next to Kyle. She was instantly looking Eli over, before reaching her hand out to shake Eli’s hand. The alcohol, despite having had more than Kyle, had yet to hit her fully. While he was almost twice her size, Kyle was a lightweight.

“Kayla Foster. I take it you’re Kyle’s special friend. How- uh-” Kayla said, catching a slur before it escaped her mouth. “How old are you anyway?” Kayla asks, “25, 26...?”

Eli smiled as she shook Kayla’s hand, but it faded as she glanced between Kyle and Kayla. “22?”

Kayla gasped and then smacked Kyle’s shoulder, who himself also seemed a little surprised to hear the number. “Slummin’ it are we?” Kayla said.

“Stop.” Kyle replied, shaking his head, “Just- stop.”

Kayla gave him a huge grin that was all teeth, but didn’t say anything to him, instead turning to Eli. “It’s nice to put a face to a name.”

Eli cleared her throat, smiling politely although clearly a little uncomfortable by Kayla’s assumption. “It’s nice to meet you, as well. Kyle was just telling me about this creature you’re baiting.” She slid over in her seat. “Would you like to sit?”

Kayla pulled a chair out and sat down, suddenly all business. “I take it my brother has er-” she caught herself again. She’d had too many jagerbombs. “Has uh, mentioned what we’re up against?”

Eli nodded. “How do you plan to fight it? I’m sure Kyle has mentioned my… skills.”

Kayla gave Kyle a pointed look. “He hasn’t told me much, to be honest. He said you disoriented the vampires he went for. Don’t know how, though.” she answered. “At the end of the day this a vampire, just of a more monstrous variety. It’s got claws and teeth. Combating it is like a game of tag except we have a gun. Just don’t get touched, ya feel me?”

“I have a question.” Kyle said to Eli, “What can you do beyond disorienting a-” He slurred again, “A-a person’s mind?”

Eli lifted her glass, taking a long sip before setting it down. “Well, I’m not exactly sure how I do it, but I can access people’s perceptions and alter them. It’s all really an illusion, but their mind thinks that it's real.” She glanced between them.

“Could you…” Kyle began to ask, “Alter them in a… more beneficial manner? Say…” He waved his finger between himself and his sister. “Alleviate the effects of a few shots on someone’s mind?”

Eli pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I’ll need to stay within a certain distance, and I’ll only be able to hold it for about thirty minutes for the both of you.” She looked at them both. “Will that give you enough time?”

“Yes.” Kyle replied, “If, we actually do get found by this thing of course, i-it’s a gamble. You’ll follow as far beside as you can to still have us in your range. If and... when things get messy, that’s when you act.” Kayla simply nodded in response to her brother’s plan. “One, uh… one more thing.” He said, “Do you have any way to defend yourself, physically? If, the aswang comes after you?”

Eli blinked. “Well, I have a police baton I usually carry with me… but as of this moment no. I know how to use a pistol or shotgun, if you have a spare.”

Without a word, Kyle reached into his coat, fumbling around with an inner pocket. He pulled out a small felt pouch with an elastic string holding it closed. Awfully small to hold any sort of weapon. Eli looked somewhat confused as she watched Kyle subtly open the pouch, just barely lifting the grip-end of a handgun out of it, and then dropping it back into the pouch and closing it up. He handed the pouch to her. “You can borrow this one. It’s already- loaded with silver bullets.”

With a nod, Eli took the pouch. She pulled the string, curiously looking inside before tucking it into her jacket pocket. “It must pay off to have a bit of magic everywhere you go,” she said, smiling at Kayla. She picked her glass up one last time and finished the whiskey, feeling that it would give her some liquid courage. “Alright. Let’s test this out somewhere private before we jump into anything.”

“What do you mean by test it?” Kayla questioned. “As in firing the g-un? Mighta- um, might spook our target.”

Eli chuckled, looking at the drunk Tourists. “I meant-uh, I want to make sure that I can alleviate the jagerbombs’ effects.”

“Oh.” Kayla said dumbly, pinching the bridge of her nose and smiling. “I guess go for it?”

Eli smiled before sitting back in her seat, relaxing her shoulders. She glanced at the other patrons in the bar before closing her eyes. “You might feel a little strange at first, but tap my hand when you feel sober. I’ve cured quite a few of my own hangovers with this.” In a few moments, Eli was already affecting their brain’s receptors - reducing the slowing effects of alcohol on their systems.

Kyle reared his head back a bit, raising his brows slightly. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “That is…” He said, nodding, “Very good.”

“Seconded,” Kayla said, tapping Eli’s hand. “I’m feeling a lot better about this.”

“Alright, but…” Kyle said, waving his finger for a moment, “Gotta stay drunk though. To lure this thing out in the first place. Do you just…” He turned to Eli. “Let it go, then?”

Eli opened her eyes and looked up at Kyle, releasing her hold on their minds as she blinked. They both looked somewhat visibly hit by the return of their inebriation, but promptly recovered. “Basically. It’s like a muscle. I can stretch it, but there is a breaking point.” She smirked. “Should I get you two another round of shots?”

Kyle and Kayla passed each other rather questionable looks at the sound of Eli’s offer. And Kayla smiled.

Ever since corporations began outsourcing manufacturing jobs overseas, many parts of the rust belt have been on the decline. Those who relied on those companies for work were out of a job, and had no choice other than to find minimum wage jobs or turn to a life of crime. This rust belt decline led to many industrial areas being abandoned, some of which still contain some incredibly toxic pollutants that affect both the ecosystem and the people who still live in the area. All that's left of these rust belts nowadays are just ghosts of their former selves. Abandoned rusty buildings with large shattered windows stand tall, with smokestacks not producing a single particle of smoke or steam. Abandoned lots with little to no vehicles within, rusty silos and abandoned railways filling spaces between the roads of these industries. Rusted chain-link fences, with terrible cliche graffiti plastered all alongside of these empty, abandoned buildings. While those who did live here were often minorities who struggled to make a living, criminals often found a home here too.

A small microdrone flew through the night, moving in a similar search pattern to that of a bird. Blending in with the night sky, the drone was very difficult to spot by sound or sight, small to the point where it flew unnoticed. Flying in between trees and ducking through windows, the small drone flew with precise movements, a hint at the inhuman nature of its master. At the first sight of humans, it stopped. While most of the abandoned parts of the industrial area weren't lit, some parts were, with rogue streetlights operating flickering on since the 90s, unmaintained. This amber streetlamp lit up a small crew, a trio of men standing by what seems to be a slightly modified black GMC Yukon. One man with tattoos and a wifebeater, another wearing an oversized shirt, and the third wearing an Adidas windbreaker, the three looked like standard 'neighborhood bad guys' one would find in any movie. Completely unaware of the drone, Adidas leaned against the streetlamp impatiently, lighting up a new cigarette. After putting out his old one with his rather expensive shoes, he took a drag, and watched the entrance into the abandoned parking lot.

The drone, employing an HD camera that could see for a decent distance, zoomed in on the figures. The view was transmitted through a cell tower, and then to a receiving node, which then displayed that view through its Bluetooth connection to a set of augmented reality glasses, plastering it on the corner of the wearer's vision. The wearer's vision, along with seeing a live view of the figures with a slight delay, would then get a picture of each o their mugshots in a separate corner.

Contact spotted. A feminine, digital voice spoke through the mind of the wearer, using vibrations through the temples of the augmented reality glasses. Look alive, Slingshot. You got business to attend to. The voice, despite being digital, seemed to have a teasing tone to its last sentence, having some degree of inflection.

The wearer of these augmented reality glasses groaned. The African-American woman, wearing a plain gray T-shirt, jeans and black leather driving gloves, remained seated in a vehicle far away from the location of the drone. Her mahogany skin was only put on display by the interior lighting of vehicle, exposed along her arms and her face. The woman stretched a little in her seat, popping a few bones. "Ugh." She moaned a little, her voice tired. "These guys look cliche as all hell. Are you sure they won't just shoot me on sight?" The woman asked as she put her seatbelt on.

Relax, Andrea. I've already searched their criminal records, and from what I can bring up on them, standard psych analysis functions indicate that their violent behavior is only reactionary. Just don't make any sudden moves and you'll be fine.

"What functions? Yours, or formulas you ripped from the internet?" Andrea asked, fixing herself up in the rear view mirror. Her small afro needs a little work but she believes she appears approachable enough to men. Hopefully women too, but Andrea has no plans to date criminals yet. Not like Andrea could use anything else other than her looks and wit anyway, her natural instinct often has her fleeing rather than fighting. "And do you think I should straighten my hair?"

Will your trust in my judgement change depending on how I answer? The artificial intelligence asked. And no. I think you look beautiful. At least according to the functions I 'ripped from the internet.' The AI chuckled.

"Thanks Patches." Andrea said with a soft smile, patting the small brick-like device in her pocket. "So, business as usual huh? Did you see any cops along the way?" Negative. "Alrighty. Time to clock in." She smirked. "Patches, play my nighttime speed playlist."

With pleasure. Through the will of the AI (or at least through a node installed into the car's electrical systems), the radio lit up, and from the sound system played a drum and bass tune. Just as the song began, Andrea grabbed the keys and turned the ignition.

The rusty 1988 Ford Taurus roared to life, and despite its appearance and some of its sounds, seemed to hold quite a bit of power. The lights turned on, and just as soon as the car did, Andrea shifted into gear and the car peeled away. The front tires squealed against the pavement for a few seconds before they got their grip on it, the car picking up speed as it drove off from the abandoned parking lot and onto the street. The car sped down the rarely traveled street, and approaching a corner, Andrea lightly brought the handbrake up to bring the car into a fishtail, drifting along the street, before flooring the gas, the car straightening itself out after drifting on the 90 degree turn. She continued to speed through the streets, the lazily upgraded 140 horsepower engine barely trying to keep up with the Slingshot's demands. Hitting several bumps, the car jumped up a few times from the force as the car hit them at high speeds, but it had little effect on the Slingshot herself.

The Slingshot, as she was called in criminal and racing circles, is a woman who's rather familiar with how cars work, and what their limits are, depending on what make and model. Having worked as a mechanic for most of her adult life, and raced cars for quite a bit of it, her passion is nothing but being at the seat of some of mankind's greatest machines. Driving around at breakneck speeds was just nothing but pure thrill to her, and cars themselves always appealed to her as a kid. She had already achieved her dream of being a race car driver, and while she does participate in local races nowadays, her past association with murky racing groups ruined her chances of going anywhere high. At least for now, and while she still races and works on cars, it only gives her enough money to survive. But Andrea is not on this earth to survive. She is on God's Green Earth to live. And live she did, through thrill of speed.

Drift turn left. Patches said to Andrea, using the heads up display in Andrea's augmented reality glasses to give the driver a path through the dimly lit roadways, as well as some rudimentary statistics on the aged Taurus. Andrea did as she was told, performing the same handbrake cornering trick, drifting at the 90 degree turn into the factory parking lot, nose towards the group of men up ahead. She sped towards them, the men ahead of them looking quite uneasy. They seemed as if they were just about to run away when Andrea jerked her car to one side then the other, bringing it into a proper drift. Screeching along the pavement, the car was finally brought to a stop at the feet of the three men, driver's side facing them. You have reached your destination. Patches said in a sing-song tone.

Andrea rolled down the window, looking at their shocked faces. She smirked at them. "Did someone call... The Slingshot?" Andrea asked, adding a little bit of flair to her beloved nickname, one that may or may not be based off of her favorite Hot Wheels car.

Adidas relaxed a bit before speaking angrily to the woman in the car, his voice a little gravelly. "Fucking crazy bitch, you nearly killed us!" He shouted.

Andrea turned down the music. "Relax, Generic Bad Guy Number Two. I was just giving you a little démonstration." She patted the side of the car, adding a bit of French to her last word. "So, you got the goods?"

Adidas grumbled angrily before gesturing to the other two men, who promptly walked over to their GMC Yukon. "How do you plan on getting them to Wiseman?"

Andrea popped the trunk. "Secret smuggling compartment, hidden underneath the jeans and lining. Hard to see, but once you feel for it you'll be able to get to it easy." She said. "It's sealed, so not even dogs can sniff through it. Hopefully. Don't quote me on that." Andrea said, trailing off a little.

"Whatever. You seem to know your way around." Adidas said as Wifebeater and Oversized brought a small crate out. "Remember, you're looking at five kilos of some of the best Bolivian cocaine right there. Any less and it'll be your ass on a platter." Adidas said, taking a drag from his cigarette as the two other men put the military styled crate into the secret compartment, making sure to hide it well before closing the trunk. "You know where to go, right?"

"You wouldn't call me here if I didn't." Andrea replied casually. "53rd Lambert Street, the pizzeria on the corner. Been there before, several times." She repeated just to assuage them. She then held her palm out, clearing her throat.

"Right." Adidas smirked. "The best never work for free." He pulled out five crisp one hundred dollar bills from his front pocket, putting them into Andrea's hand gently. "Wiseman's rep will give you his cut on delivery. The rest of our cut's in a drop, which should come with your payment." Adidas explained, stepping back from Andrea as she pocketed the cash. "If you got the spine for it, maybe I could hook you up to my racing scene. Got my own car and everything."

Andrea nodded. "I'll think about it, just hope that you can afford losing to me." She said with a soft teasing smirk, putting her hands back on the steering wheel. "Any friendly tips for me before I head out?"

Adidas was walking away, but he then turned around. "Word out there says that the Hills are being watched over by some Angel of Death. With all of that 'superhero' bullshit going on in the city nowadays, with fuckin' metahumans runnin' around, I would take a little stock in what they say. Hopefully it won't find you but, if it does, you're fucked." Adidas said, tossing his cigarette onto the ground, stomping it out.

Andrea was a little unnerved by this news, as she would be heading straight into the Hills to get to Wiseman's place. She was a little confident in the facade she normally put up though. "I doubt some superhero's gonna attack an innocent woman in a beat-up Taurus anyway. If they do, I'll just tell them the same story I normally do." Andrea said. "I appreciate it nonetheless. Stay safe out there."

"You too, Slingshot." Adidas said. "I'll call you again for more if you don't fuck up. Peace."

Andrea flashed the peace sign before turning up the radio back up to its original volume, shifting the car into gear and speeding off. The tires briefly squealed once again, but her car was able to get a grip and speed out from the parking lot. Flying out from the entrance to the factory parking lot, she was back on the road again. Her glasses outlined and highlighted the less visible parts of the road, with a highlighted path fading into view, giving Andrea direction as to where she should go. Shifting her car into gear, she floored it, making a drift turn onto the four-way road that led straight towards the Hills. It would be a long trip, but if it were short, those guys would done the job themselves. Drones in the skies kept an eye out for cops and other pursuers, and while Andrea drove through the near desolate streets, Andrea kept a careful eye on her vehicle's limits, and how much time she had left on her drones. She'll slow down once she gets to the Hills, but until then, she has time to make. Flooring it, the Taurus sped off into the night, gunning it through a green light, red taillights fading into the darkness.

Time trials were something Slingshot was all too used to.

(Country roads would be nice right about now...but gotta avoid the temptation...) The thought shot through the driver's mind as a free hand played with the dials of the radio on her dashboard, one hand on the wheel, working by touch, rather than sight. Each twist of the knob, whether quick, slow, long, or short, changed it to a different station. Or to static, if the area she was driving through held no station on a given frequency. Her phone charged from the jack, having run low during one of her brief pitstops. Unlimited data didn't mean unlimited battery power. Least her grandmother was willing to foot the bill, for someone who should have looked to be in their eighties, but looked to be in their late forties at most, she was pretty chill with modern technology. Even if the look on her face when Serene had declared her desire to drive west had been...less than happy. Perhaps the death of her father had effected Grandmother differently, but it had driven the young magitek user forward since the lab accident seven years before. Or perhaps it was the thought of Serene going off into danger, all the way across the country, from familiar territories, to a new turf full of chaos.

The thought of what laid ahead made her glance up to the rearview mirror, even as her hand found a celtic radio station, stopping her hunting, a look of relief flooding her face. The music was part of it, but the rear view let her look into the truck bed, which was covered with one of those plastic things that made it look more like a weird van counterpart, albeit with strange windows, and where her power suit lay, along with that staff. Plus a lot of other stuff, like a sleeping bag, tent, parts of her "god"(or whatever it was she had summoned, she was pretty sure it was the Broken God she'd read about on an internet forum once, but it wasn't like she was an expert in extra-dimesional machinery), and other odds and ends. The seat next to her held a small box, snack wrappers and the remains of her lunch being its contents, one of the cup holders holding an energy drink.

Thankfully, the high way she was on was mainly a straight away, and deserted at that for the most part, it let her take the time to well, think and mull over it all. She'd grown up idolizing her father, and while she'd at first believed that the age of the superhero was past, and that magic was dying out as a serious profession(even if her own self-professed technological magic was, in fact, improperly identified non-magical technokinesis), by the time she'd gotten onto the road to drive west, this had changed in her mind. Learning of Santa Celia, and going over her father's own records that were at her Grandmothers, she'd been able to plot a cross-country route, as whatever her father had done over the years, it had made him friends and enemies across the country, so she'd taken a route where when she stopped at night, it was at places that she'd marked as safe. From a small enclave of people who had to be former spies who her father had apparently been friends with, to giving a place that possibly was anti-witch a wide berth, she'd made her way across the country, sometimes it felt as though people were expecting her, which seemed odd, in all honesty, her father was dead. And far as she knew, none of these people she had ever met. And yet, it was this strange kindness that had helped her, leaving the usually closed off wanna be hero wondering what kind of person her father really had been. She'd never known much about his life before her birth, and now part of her wondered what had really made him retire. Curiously, Santa Celia had not been a place visited by her father, most of his notes that did refer to the place said stuff about "climate not yet right, wait for the winds to call." Cryptic stuff like that, which made her wonder if he'd originally planned to help the city out, but that the time wasn't right, which made her wonder...if she was on the right track.

She wasn't her father, that was for sure. Young, silly perhaps, maybe even a little crazy. But she had a chip on her shoulder, a passed on father to make proud. And as she passed the sign that told her the turn off to Celia's city limits was five miles ahead, her hand tightened on the wheel. A week of driving, had all led to this, the final approach to the start of her first, and hopefully not last, heroic tale. No tutorial levels, no extra lives, this was the real world. The sun had long since, and the moon was rising at her back...and on into the night she drove, to whatever chaos laid ahead in the villainous cesspool that was already rife with good elements trying to turn it from a vile den of evil into something...beautiful. Hopefully she'd fit in. Even if her magic was fake, and she had a serious case of eighth grader syndrome...

//Not my best, but I did try. Feedback always welcome.

---

The doors to the Tír na nÓg swung open, and out stumbled two Foster-folk, both varying in their levels of inebriation. Kayla was snickering about something, somewhat to the chagrin of Kyle, who was simply attempting to keep a straight line in his pace. As they walked a short ways away from the bar, Kayla began to… sing.

“She’ll oonly c-heh-ome out at niiiight… the leeean and huuungry type…”

Kyle just turned his head to watch his sister waver in both step and voice, a confused and slightly worried look etched on his face.

“Nothin’ is new, I’ve- seen ‘er here befooooore…” As she finished the word, she held her hands palms-outward, motioning for her brother to join her. Something on her drunken mug made it seem as though she just knew he knew the lyrics. Kyle just stood there for a moment, silent, mouth just slightly agape. And then, it happened.

“Wwwwatching and waiting…”

Kayla smiled wide, shaking her hands in joy.

“Oh she’s sitting with you, but her eyes are oooon the dooo-hooor…”

Admittedly, Kyle’s singing was rather sub-par. But the man was a little drunk, after all. Something that rarely happened, and Kayla considered herself fortunate to behold. Even rarer was the singing, which by all reasonable accounts, should not happen.

“Ooo-ooh here she comes…” They sang in unison, skipping the latter half of the first verse, “Watch out boy, she’ll chew you up! Ooo-ooh, here she comes… she’s a maaaaneeeater!”

As they moved further away from the nÓg, out came Eli through the entrance herself. Not nearly as inebriated as the Fosters, thankfully. She kept her distance from them, as far as she could so as to keep them in her range of affect. She moved over to the opposing sidewalk, keeping her hand close to the pouch containing the handgun Kyle had lent her, and eyes scanning the surrounding area. As she heard the two Tourists sing in the distance, she couldn’t help but crack a smile.

If all their efforts would be dealt a stroke of luck, the aswang would come and make an attempt on their lives. And despite evidence to the contrary, they would be ready for the creature.

@JunkMail
@Skai

---

---

Location: Freckles', Argyle Boulevard - Scrapyard, Industrial District
Time of Day: Late Afternoon
Collab With: @Lord Wraith

Upon leaving the staff door and walking out into the parking lot, Natalie saw exactly what she was expecting. All the goons she had seen inside the restaurant, plus a few more, and a hastily parked car with an open boot. On one hand, Nat had no intention of letting herself get tied up and thrown in a truck. If they had a boss, getting taken there in this car would help her find out who it was, and put a stop to this. But that was too risky. They didn’t seem to be too well-armed right now but at their lair, they might have heftier weaponry. Even so, Natalie knew, though they might not, that she held the cards here. This group had no idea what Natalie was protecting them from.

”I guess this means we can stop pretending we don’t recognize each other, huh?” She asked the crowd in front of her, frowning.

Vinnie’s jaw dropped as Monty lifted a hand, placing it against his forehead with a loud ‘smack’ that echoed across the parking lot before he hung his head in frustration. From behind the pair, Bianca tried to stifle her laughter as she placed a hand against her own mouth and turned her back towards Natalie.

“You knew it was us that whole time?” Vinnie asked in disbelief as Monty could only shake his head, failing to stop the younger man from babbling on further.

“Why you have to hurt me like that, dollface? I thought we had a connection, we weren’t going to kill you or anything? Maybe just rough you up some, find out where the liz-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, VINNIE!” Monty interjected as he motioned towards two of the larger men. “Don’t just stand there, grab her before she screams!”

Moving towards Natalie, the two men each took a hold of one of her arms before they tried to move the girl towards the awaiting car.

“Hurry up, she’s just a little girl, shouldn’t be taking this long!” Monty snapped.

Natalie was about to fight back but stopped. Before he got cut off, Vinnie was definitely about to say ‘lizard’. They wanted Archie too. That made sense. He’d also hurt them, and had done much more damage than Natalie had. He was probably their main target. She’d have to warn him when she got the chance. But if they had a boss, and he was making moves against Archie, she’d have to stop him. Her dilemma was now solved. She’d let herself get captured and hopefully taken to their boss.

She willingly and without screaming walked with them to the trunk of the car. Although, her own time in a criminal gang gave her a sense of professional unsatisfaction what it came to the competence of this motley crew. She couldn’t let it go any longer.

”You know, if you didn’t want me to scream, you should probably have gagged me. Also not have screamed yourself if you didn’t want to attract attention to a blatant kidnapping. At least tell me you’re going to tie my wrists and ankles before you stuff me in a boot, or have gangs really gotten that bad in just two years?”

Bianca smiled giving Natalie a subtle thumbs up and a wink before turning to watch as Vinnie turned towards Monty.

“Why didn’t you think of that, boss?” He asked as Monty shot him a look that would freeze molten lava.

“Because, moron!” Monty hissed, “This was all your hairbrained idea and you’ve gone and fucked it harder than the whatever inbred hick did your mom when she conceived you!” Looking around, Monty threw a hand up in frustration as he leaned heavily on his crutches.

“You heard the little lady, she wants to be gagged, so please, someone fuckin’ gag her!” Monty ordered before lifting a crutch as he delivered a quick blow to Vinnie’s crotch as the later began to reach for the zipper on his pants.

“Not like that!”

Natalie shook her head, walked straight past both men and climbed into the boot herself, berating them further as she did so. ”This is just painful. You’ve already fucked this up enough. Shut me in and get in the car before somebody calls the cops. I’m starting to regret sparing and saving your lives, respectively.”

Natalie looked around for the woman. She actually seemed to have sense. It was the same position Natalie herself used to be in; the single woman in a gang of petty crooks, and at times, she felt like the only intelligent member. The voice of reason. The difference was that even Natalie’s gang, even her goofy bonehead of a boyfriend, weren’t as pitifully pathetic as these two clowns.

Closing the trunk, Bianca locked it before climbing into the driver’s seat as Monty and Vinnie both followed suit. Starting the car, the women drove out of the Freckles parking lot, turning in the opposite direction from where the trio had come as Monty looked at her in confusion.

“Where are we going?” He asked as Bianca nodded towards him.

“You’ll see.” She replied as she spun the wheel, taking a sharp corner as she began to drive towards the North East side of the city. Driving along the freeway, Bianca took an exit for towards the city’s industrial district. Slowing, the car, drove over a large pothole as the woman guided it into a local scrapyard, which got a large and irritated ‘Ow!’ from their passenger.

“What do you have in mind?” Vinnie asked as he leaned in between the front seats from the back.

“We’re going to squeeze the information out of her.” Bianca replied with a smile as she parked the car. Waving towards a member of their gang, he signalled back as he climbed into the seat of a front end loader and started the engine.

“Monty, can you work the crusher?” Bianca asked as Vinnie scurried around beside her and rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Yeah, I think I can figure it out.” Monty replied as he hobbled over to the controls. With Monty out of the way, the front ender loader approached the car, placing its forks under the vehicle as it began to lift it into the crusher, Natalie still inside.

Natalie considered all of her other options. Was there any other way, any at all, where she didn’t have to risk hurting anyone? No. She’d have to escape this car before they crushed her, and even her bones wouldn’t be able to cope with the force of an industrial crusher. But doing so would expose her powers, and they’d probably then resort to shooting her, and then….then she didn’t know if she could stay in control. But there was literally nothing that could be gained from staying in the trunk. She had not been taken to their lair. For all she knew, they didn’t have one. Bianca might even be their actual boss. She had to get out.

Forcing the trunk open with a snap, breaking the lock in the process, Natalie emerged from the car, then quickly rushed free of the crusher. She looked around, trying to gauge, how many men there were, how well armed they were, and how many knew, or suspected, she had powers and wasn’t just good at escaping from trunks?

“I thought you locked the fuckin’ trunk!” Vinnie asked Bianca in disbelief as Natalie suddenly jumped free, the front end loader coming to a sudden stop as the woman appeared on the ground beside the aloft vehicle.

“I did.” Bianca replied with a snarl as she reached to the back of her pants and pulled out a gun, releasing the safety as she trained it on Natalie.

“Look, sweetheart, we only want your lizard friend but I have no regrets about putting a bullet in each of your legs to keep you here if that’s what it takes. So why don’t you just take out that lovely cellphone of yours I let you keep and give your scaly pet a call?” Binaca ordered while keeping the gun pointed on the other woman.

Natalie’s courage completely deserts her when she sees the gun. For all her powers, getting shot in the leg would still injure and immobilise her, and one shot to the chest would kill her. She puts one arm up in the air, and reaches for her phone with the other, pulling it out and holding it so that Bianca could see it.

”First of all, he’s not my pet. We met for the first time yesterday. Second of all, I don’t even have his number, not unless-”

Her eyes widened and a slight blush showed on her cheeks as she hurriedly checked her phone’s messages. There was a new one. She opened it and read it.

^{7:35 pm}
Archie: Would you like to grab lunch sometime?

She didn’t allow herself a smile, even if she wanted to. She didn’t want to give away that she liked the ‘scaly pet’, and give her captors any more leverage than they already had. With as straight face as she could manage, she looked right at Bianca, as she pressed the buttons that allowed her to dial her apartment's phone number. Ellara shouldn’t be in. She works at this time of night.

”I have his number,” she told Bianca. ”It’s ringing now.”

The reason for this deception was that Natalie, though she did want to ring Archie, didn’t want to get him involved in this. She didn’t want to put him in any danger of harm or discovery. She could handle this herself. All she had to do was get Bianca to let her guard down for just a second.

With a motion of her head, Bianca nodded towards Vinnie.

“Get the phone,” She ordered as Vinnie quickly walked towards Natalie, reaching out as he moved to take the device from her hands, Bianca all the while keeping the weapon firmly pointed towards the other woman.

Natalie handed the phone over to Vinnie. When he put it to his ear, he’d hear Natalie’s own voice in what was clearly an answer machine’s recorded message. She had rung her own house.

“She called her fuckin’ self-”

Before anybody else could make a move, Natalie got Vinnie in a headlock from behind and grabbed the back of his head with her other hand. ”Nobody shoot or I snap his neck!” she yelled out. ”Everyone drop your weapons and kick them away!”

Bianca smirked, the girl had balls, she had to give it to her.

“I like you,” Bianca called, “Which kind of fucking sucks that I have to do this next part.” She added, squeezing the trigger as she shot Vinnie, the bullet passing through the man’s shoulder and hitting Natalie.

She looked down, and took her hand away from Vinnie’s neck to feel the wound. The bullet was still lodged in Natalie’s wound. Bianca had shot her in the sternum, and after passing through Vinnie’s shoulder, the bullet couldn’t penetrate Natalie’s super-tough bones. She had got very lucky, but the pain and the blood, and the panic were spreading. Oh no. Nonononono…

Natalie looked straight at Bianca, and her eyes wide and wild, like those of a deer in the headlights. Then they changed. Natalie’s face contorted into one of confusion and malice, and she threw the injured Vinnie aside, sending him flying across the room in a feat of blatant super strength.

Then she sprinted towards Bianca.

“You shot me!” Vinnie cried while rolling around on the ground in agony as Bianca smiled, holding her ground as she fired three more shots towards Natalie before suddenly dropped the gun. Her skin began to change as a metal like plating engulfed her body, a layer of steel-like dermal armour covering her as she stood her ground ready for the woman while still barking orders.

“Suck it up and get the phone the fuck out of here!” She ordered as Monty hobbled over to where Vinnie was now laying on the ground after being thrown. Throwing a wide hook, Bianca attempted to sucker punch the approaching girl as the two superhumans faced off.

Natalie was not skilled enough of a fighter to intercept or avoid the punch, though this metal punch, that should have turned the head of such a frail woman into paste, merely caused Natalie to stagger backwards and suck air through her teeth, as she came at Bianca with her own wild punch. Two tons of force were being hurtled towards the metal woman’s head. She was too far gone into her ‘episode’ to even comprehend that she needed to stop Vinnie.

Tossed backwards, Bianca felt the force of the blow even behind her own armour. Nonetheless, she stood again watching with smug satisfaction as Monty and Vinnie managed to pile into another car, escaping to fuck up another day but at least they had the girl’s phone. Now all that was left was for Bianca herself to survive.

The girl seemed to have given in to her anger, there was no reason behind her attacks only an intent to harm or even kill. Bianca, on the other hand, was still in control of her emotions as she avoided another blow and delivered a fist of her own towards the girl’s lower torso, targeting her kidney’s.

Natalie recoiled sharply from that blow, backing away and holding her side with both hands. There weren’t as many bones protecting her midriff, although her ribcage did protect her kidneys from that punch. Even so, that one rational worry that went through her mind was enough to snap her out of it. She came back to herself, and far too late looked back for her phone. They took it, and they were gone. And they now had the perfect means to bait Archie into a trap. And it was all her fault because she lost control again…

Natalie looked up at Bianca from where she was crouched, and already looked defeated, in her eyes.

”What are you going to do to him?” she asked her. ”What are you going to do to me?”

“You’ll see,” Bianca responded before delivering a final blow to Natalie as the other girl fell unconscious.

---

“Oooh-oooh, here she comes… she’s a-”

“You two sound like you’re having fun!”

The Fosters both turned their heads to look behind them, stopping there repeated singing of the song’s refrain. A young Filipino woman had approached them, smiling as she greeted the duo by calling attention to their inebriated merriment. Kyle’s amulet began to vibrate, and thankfully, he was not too drunk to notice. He tapped Kayla’s shoulder, and then waved his hand about lightly for a moment before tapping his chest twice. Kayla responded by smiling, and laughing a little bit, patting her brother’s arm with both her hands repeatedly.

“We’re just…” Kyle said to the woman, “We’re… yeah! Fun…”

“It’s been a-uh- a great night.” Kayla said, allowing herself to slur her speech a tad.

“May I ask where you were going?” The woman said.

“Oh, we’re on our way h-” Kyle began, pausing to slur a bit. “H-home. Had a... ffffun night. That’s all.”

“Maybe you could use some company?” The woman responded, stepping towards the two, doing her best to make herself look as unassuming as possible. “I was out looking to do something fun and, here you two are.” She said, passing her gaze to Kayla. “Especially you…” Her last two words were especially… intent.

“Sure! The more the merrier!” Kayla replied, playing into the woman’s game. “We were uh, trying to get back home to get my wallet. We both flew in recently.” Kayla said, leaning against Kyle as if to stop herself from swaying. “Do you know where the closest bus stop is? Probably can't drive or afford a cab right now.”

“Yes, I know where one is nearby.” The woman replied, “We can get there quicker if we cut through a few alleys.”

“Peeeerfect.” Kyle said, nodding and giving a very wry smile. As the woman took the lead towards the nearest alley entrance, Kayla following, Kyle turned his attention towards Eli in the distance. He raised his hand and waved it back in this direction, signalling her to follow behind them. Eli, already cautious of the stranger, crossed the street and continued towards the alleyway. She quickened her pace so that she could keep an eye on them.

As the Fosters and the woman began their trek through the alley, she put herself closer to Kayla’s side, almost brushing shoulders.

“So…” She said, in a rather low voice, “Is he your boyfriend? Husband?” It was clear she was trying to keep Kyle out of the conversation.

“Brother, ‘nd best friend. We haven't been able to see each other inna while.” Kayla answered, only half truthfully. The two of them had been together from the beginning of their supernatural journey.

“Think he wouldn’t mind you and me going on once we get back to your house?” The woman said, “I know a great place nearby. You and I could have so much fun there, I promise!”

As the two spoke Kyle turned his head back around to check on Eli, still following along at a safe distance. They both nodded to each other, and Kyle began creeping his hand closer towards the pocket he was keeping his weapon concealed.

“What kind of fun are ya thinkin’?”

“Dance a little, get a drink or two…” The woman replied, “Get a bite to eat?”

“Sounds I could use a bite to eat.” Kayla commented offhandedly. She was being serious, too. She hadn’t eaten in a few hours today. Once this was done, she’d probably ask Kyle if they could get some fast food.

“Lovely!” The woman replied, “Actually, do you think your brother can handle himself from here? If you and I leave now, everything will be my treat, I promise.”

Kayla hesitated. “I’d prefer to stick with my brother. He’s the reason why I’m visiting town.”

“C’mooon…” The woman said, sidling up to Kayla and placing her hand on her arm. The skin began to morph, and her claws became ever so lightly detectable. “It’ll be worth it, I promise. Just tell him to leave, and-”

Click.

The woman’s deceitful smile dropped immediately as she turned her head, only looking at Kyle - now brandishing his gun - for half a second, before ducking low to the ground, mouth stretching into an abominable maw full of needle-teeth, tongue extending outward. She screeched, and as Kyle fired twice, both shots missing thanks to his light stupor and her freakish agility, the aswang leapt high above him, clinging to a nearby fire escape ladder.

“Now!” Kyle yelled, turned his head back towards Eli for a moment before attempting to retrain his gaze on the aswang.

A few seconds later, their inebriation no longer affected the two as Eli ducked behind a pile of trash cans. She crouched low, keeping her focus more on the Tourists than the position of the aswang. She kept her eyes open, but they glazed over as her ability affected her own vision. Her hand was tucked into the pouch, firmly grasping the grip.

“Neuma!” Kayla shouted, flexing her hands and throwing them down towards the ground, ripping the fire escape that the Aswang was clinging to clear off the building wall to prevent her from escaping. “Natua dina!” she commanded, sealing the sounds of the alleyway off from the rest of the world to prevent unwanted attention.

The aswang turned her head towards her assailants, leaping off of the fire escape ladder and onto the opposing wall. Clinging to the side of the building, she flourished her whip-tongue and swiped at Kayla.

As the sounds of the fight reached Eli, something within her convinced herself that more could be done. She inhaled, preparing herself for a moment before she stepped out from her hiding place. Standing directly behind the horrifying creature, Eli felt dazed momentarily as she tried to get a grip on the monster’s senses. She gasped as she felt the connection, an eerie feeling passing over her. Without thinking too much about it, she immediately removed it’s sight while overwhelming her remaining senses. Kayla made a split second decision to allow the tongue to land an indirect strike on her arm instead of her chest or neck. The needle like tip of the tongue dug into her forearm, but before the paralytic agent could fully take effect, she wrapped the creature’s tongue around her arm once and pulled it close to her chest with her good arm as she lost feeling in the injured limb, preventing the creature from moving without dragging a hundred or so pounds of weight. With the creature immobilized in a multitude of ways, Kyle took it as a clear opportunity to aim at the creature and begin firing.

Quickly following Kyle’s lead, Eli pulled the glock from the magic pouch and stepped to the side of the aswang. She cocked the gun and proceeded to unload it into the creature’s side. Both of them riddled the creature with silver bullets, audible screeches of pain sounding out from its mouth. The aswang quickly lost its grip on the building wall, stumbling, and then falling. It slammed into a pair of garbage cans, and immediately scrambled to crawl away from the trio, knowing this was a losing battle. Her blindness, however, caused her to make several poor choices in which direction to escape in. Several trails of black sludge followed behind her as her wounds bled into the alley.

”Entula sinome!” Kayla shouted, her good hand flexing and dragging the Aswang’s body back to them kicking and screaming with an unseen force- her telekinesis. Kyle and Eli both approached the creature on each side as she madly attempted to crawl away, her claws scratching the stained ground beneath her. The duo aimed their weapons down at the aswang, and began firing repeatedly. Bullets riddled her upper back and her head, bits of her flying off along with small shreds of clothes. Within a moment, she became still, the only indicator of her still being the slightest bit alive, a few pained breaths escaping through her teeth. Kyle made his way around the fallen creature and placed two more shots into her head, making certain she was good and gone.

“This is probably going to be painful tomorrow.” Kayla muttered, working the creature’s now limp tongue out of her arm and dropping the appendage with distaste. “Disgusting. Eli, could you help me wrap up my arm?”

Eli turned her attention towards Kayla, preferring not to witness what remained of the creatures head. She nodded, taking a moment to release her effects on the two Tourists. She’d felt the connection to the aswang disappear the moment she heard the bullets enter its head. She quickly made her way towards Kayla, pocketing the gun and helping to bandage the painful looking wound.

“Kyle, could you do the honors this time? I usually need both hands to… dispose of the evidence.” she commented, conveniently ignoring the part of the fire escape that she had pulled off the building wall. “Thank you, Eli.” she followed, giving her friend a smile for her effort.

“Yeah.” Kyle replied, reaching into his inner coat pockets. After a moment of fumbling, he pulled out a small crimson marble, with a light glow to it. “You should stand back.” He said to both Kayla and Eli. As they did so, Kyle raised the marble into the air, and then struck the aswang corpse with it. It burst into a small explosion of flames, quickly enveloping the corpse whole.

The light from the fire illuminated the alley greatly.

The cat leapt right onto the counter, nearly silent. Only the soft sound of paws gently hitting the granite.

"Rabbit." The scolding was so calm it sounded more like a statement than anything else. Rabbit gave one of her silent meows, opening her mouth wide as she did, yet no noise came out. Nikita sighed, and looked across the bar to her television set. The smooth-faced meteorologist looked directly in the camera and directed the attention back to the lead female anchor. Her perfect face was serious instead of friendly as she delved straight into the recent developments in gang related crimes. Nikita stroked the cat with one hand as it commenced it's morning meal and poured coffee over the sugar waiting patiently in her mug with the other. No point in moving the bowl down now that the cat was already on the counter.

Her cell phone rang and she looked down at the screen to see Poncho's face waiting patiently above the "ACCEPT" and "DECLINE" options. Setting the carafe back into the back into the coffee maker, she lifted the remote and muted the reporter.

"Bueno."

"How are you doing?" Poncho asked, straight to the point, he'd never been one for small-talk.

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Nikita countered.

"I've seen what's going on in Santa Celia. I wanted to make sure we were still on the same page about you laying low. Staying safe," he replied. Sirens sounded in the distance and horns honked. She wondered if he had taken a moment at work to make this call. For a few minutes, both ends were silent. Lupe inhaled sharply. "We had a plan, Nikita. I brought you there for a fresh start," he reminded her. His voice was gruff, serious.

"I know that," she replied quickly. She sighed. "There are others like me though. Here. In the same city. They talk about that on the news too," she said, more hesitant now.

"I've seen."

There was another long pause.

"Don't you ever think maybe people need someone like me? There's so much rot in this city. I might not be a detective or a lawyer, but maybe I have a responsibility to help people too-"

"Nikita, the whole point is for you to have a normal life," Poncho argued.

"And what kind of a life is that? Don't get close to anybody, lay low, die alone and don't do anything remarkable," she snapped. Poncho's scoff was distorted on the other end but Nikita knew exactly what the sound was supposed to be. "You treat the infection. Or it festers. What happens when the whole damn city becomes necrotic? Where do I go next?" she demanded.

"Nikita, I can't get into this right now with you. I'm going to be coming up this weekend. Lay low. Not up for discussion," he commanded. The beeping let her know that he'd ended the call. She shook the phone in her hand for a second before tossing it across the counter. The cat gave a whisper of a meow, obviously concerned. She gave it a half-hearted pat and watched the news reporters lips continue to move silently. Rabbit looked to reporter as well. For the time being, they were two perfect counterparts, the silent reporter and the semi-silent cat. Footage in the top right corner displayed a complex that Nikita recognized. Nikita's heartbeat quickened and she gave the cat a few quick strokes to calm herself down.

Nikita looked at the discarded pile of clothes from the night before, eyes falling specifically on the seamless mask. She slid it down over her face, pulling her long ponytail out. She pulled it down off her face and let it rest against her chest before throwing on her hoodie and sneakers. She grabbed her keys and looked to the cat one last time before locking the door behind her.

---

Standing outside the complex, Nikita took one last drag off her cigarette before flicking it across the pavement.

'La Diablita, what are you doing?' she wondered to herself. She was in way over her head and going in blind. She pulled the mask over her mouth and nose. Shitty way to conceal her identity. Best she could come up with. She shook her head at herself, her ponytail swishing. She slipped in a side exit to the apartment complex and followed the sound of terrified sobs. She was late to the party, obviously.

Seeing open wounds on animals in the clinic was different, she quickly realized. Her back hit the wall and for a moment she thought she might vomit when she stumbled upon the carcass of what was once a man. Now, he more closely resembled a halfway quartered deer. She slid along the wall for support before forcing herself to go forward. She heard a woman's voice and advanced towards it. She clasped her hands in front of her mouth and followed the sounds as they became clearer.

"You are thinking that we are the monsters. But we are not like them..."

She was nearing closer, she quickened her pace as the voices became clear. The sound of wood splintering caused Nikita to pause. She faltered. She hadn't caused a flame outside the privacy of her apartment since she'd set foot in Santa Celia. She wasn't sure it was even necessary. She didn't belong here in the first place. 'Fuck it. Might as well commit.'

She rubbed her palms together and as flames began to lick towards her fingers, she came in behind a young woman. Maybe even younger than her. She stopped dead in her tracks, the fire offering new light to the darkness. She put herself between the uncertain and this young woman, what was she still doing here anyways?

"Are you okay? We need to get you the hell out of here while we still can," Nikita said, her eyes refocusing, trying to see the dark figure. It was so hard to make out. She could hear what he was saying distinctly now.

"You must be the very important person in the building, right? I have some questions that you are going to answer."

---

With the aswang’s body reduced to ashes, and the ashes wiped away, the Fosters and Eli considered the job done. They gathered themselves after the fight and exited the alley, heading back in the direction of the nÓg. And while Eli had released her ameliorating grip on the Fosters’ minds, the fight itself had done a bit to sober them up some. A night of rest was still very much in order, however.

“Once again, Eli…” Kyle began, as the three kept their pace along the sidewalk, “You did great.” Indeed, this was the second instance in the same day she’d performed admirably, utilizing her mental abilities. It could be seen that both Kyle and his sister were impressed even with their variangly drunken states. “You really did.” Kayla followed up. It wasn’t every day a human met a supernatural beast and walked away unscathed.

Eli smiled over at the Tourists. “Thank you. I can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that before, but I know how to handle myself.” She turned her attention back to the street and brushed her hair back from her face. The whiskey had faded, and she was just now starting to feel exhaustion creeping back in. Even after her nap earlier today, she’d just affected two humans and a supernatural creature: a feat she’d never expected to accomplish.

“Is this what you two do every day? Was that a normal evening in the Tourist world?” She asked, turning her attention back to Kyle and Kayla.

“Well…” Kyle replied, “Every... other day, more like.”

Kayla snorted. “Was that something humorous I just heard come out of your mouth?” she said, feigning surprise. “Well I never!”

“Okay, settle down.” Was Kyle’s only response, with a bit of a humored smirk.

Eli grinned, listening to the siblings. “I think he has some humor in that head of his.”

The humorous atmosphere was broken by the sounds of two gunshots in the distance. Kayla instinctively dropped her stance by a few inches as if she thought she was being shot at, but quickly realized that she wasn’t in immediate danger. She rose back to her full height, clutching her injured arm close to her chest and asked the most pressing question: “What the hell was that?”

Eli stood next to her, frozen in place. She glanced over in Kayla’s direction before looking back at the direction the shot came from, her expression showing her concern. “I don’t know, but it sounds like it came from the nÓg.”

“Move.” Kyle said sternly, quickening his pace ahead of the two. They followed beside him as they hastily made their way towards the nÓg. Once they were approaching the establishment, they noticed people filing out of the doors, most with worried expressions, concerned as to what the gunshots were for. Several were already making distance between themselves and the bar.

“Go around back.” Kyle said, and the trio did so. Cutting through the side of the building to reach the back parking lot, they came upon a somewhat unsettling scene. Ellara stood there, bizarrely constructed shotgun in hand, splattered in a familiar ichorous sludge. At her feet, the corpse of a creature akin to what the trio had just defeated - albeit lacking anything above the neck. The still-smiling head lied a short ways away, beside a nearby dumpster. Its blood made an awful mess of the parking lot.

Kayla, having done her homework on philippine folklore, was instantly on the head. “Stay back, these creatures have a nasty habit of being able to remove portions of their body and be fine. Might not be dead.” She stated, an explosive flame dancing in the palm of her good hand, waiting for any signs of life.

Eli stepped further into the alley, looking between the dismembered wing, head, and the large body laying before the bartender. “There were two of these things?” She thought aloud. Her head turned to look at Kyle, and then at the bartender.

“What happened?” Kyle said aloud, looking straight at Ellara.

@Lord Wraith

---

"SCWD! Freeze, sucker! Latches in the air and lid open, your junk's under arrest!"

Jacob truly didn't get tired of that joke, and probably nobody in the whole business of Santa Celia Waste Disposal held hopes for the few years left until the man's retirement to change anything about that. Sitting behind the front loader truck's wheel, the elderly husband seemed both very happy about and quite capable of ranting at some of the uglier dumpsters along the route. In Friendship Heights pretty much every dumpster that is. SCWD knew why not to deploy their most modern equipment on routes like this, thereby allowing Jacob to make the hydraulic pump work faster by giving the rev counter in front of him a well trained kick in its ass.

In the meantime, Rókur was busy shoving the large metal container into position. He had been given this part of the job practically on sight, his boss saying something about 'I'm sure you just need to gently lean against these things in order to push them around. This should be very easy for you!'. What Rókur had not been told beforehand was how many times a day he'd have to stoop and pick up trash bags that kept falling off from overfilled dumpsters on shitty routes like this. How many of those actually contained body parts or at least used syringes underneath the used diapers ? The viking of old times didn't really care about for his own sake, nor did most of his colleagues. Sometimes a garbage truck's crew felt like a strange companionship of people that were happy if somebody's gut feelings had turned out groundless at the end of the shift. It wouldn't have been the first time for some wannabe thugs to mess around with the city's services. 'Just sneeze into their face and they'd be blown into the next apartment block!', Rókur's boss had said.

A plume of dust gave the inhabitants of Friendship Heights delight as the dumpster's contents were swallowed by the truck, the compactor struggling to make room for more. The way Jacob banged the container around on the forks to get everything out was audibly in violation of SCWD's recommendations for neighbourhood-friendly, quiet handling -- but like said, these were just recommendations. A complaint about any leftovers on the other hand was a real issue, so was taking longer for the route than allocated or even being paid for. Then the truck pulled away, shift nearing its end.



"Hey Rockie! Why don't you come over here and make contact with water like everyone else does ? Afraid of being seen naked ?"

"It's Rókur, damnit!" How many times had he already gone through all of this ? There were like half a dozen co-workers along with him in the locker room right now, more could be heard utilizing the company's free offering to get rid of the city's filth in the adjacent showers. They all perfectly knew his name, but from early on his nickname had been 'Rockie'.

"You know I can't pronounce your weird russian shit!"

He had arranged with that since, after all, they were a friendly bunch. Right now he could see them looking at him, waiting for his decision about the showers. A flight of raveners looking forward to their prey exposing itself, wanting to see if it was equally or even more impressive without any clothes protecting it.

"And no, thanks. I'm in a hurry."

A petty excuse, but this wasn't the first time for him to use it. If he turned away his attention decisively now they probably wouldn't keep asking, so Rókur hurried to stuff the high visibility vest into the locker. A few minutes later he was out and waiting for the monorail car, his skin perfectly clean and without having encountered any water so far.



'Smooth sailing' wasn't exactly what this weird means of transport was delivering, at least from his point of view. If any dragon boat would have rattled, squealed and clanked that much on sea he'd have demanded for it to be discarded. And even in the worst or times they had never been this crowded! And it wasn't as if the air was always particularly good up here either. Sure it was better than on the traffic-jammed streets below, but sometimes winds could blow the exhaust from a factory stack right into the vehicle's path. Right now however something vibrated in his left pocket...

Incorrect code. 2 attempts left.

Rókur grimaced briefly, then let his enormous finger swipe along the touch screen a second time in order to draw the rune that he had chosen as the unlocking pattern.

Incorrect code. 1 attempt left.

Why can't those fucking retards build phones that any ordinary person can actually handle ? 'Cheap' should not be equivalent to 'unuseable'! Rókur angrily stared at his phone, a simple model in complete lack of any luxury. It hadn't been his first choice, but bigger would also have cost more. This country's rotten to the core! People even praise a phone company that has promoted a halfway eaten fruit to be its holy grail! Third try...

Regular appointment with tourist guy in 15 minutes. BE DEAD ON TIME!

Oh shit... He didn't even need to look out and down to the ground to see that the monorail ride and his subsequent walk from Argyle station to his actual appartment would take significantly longer than this. Given how punctual this particular guy tended to be one of those two had to go -- and fast!

Rókur pushed a few other people aside as he more or less gently forced his way to the window. He glanced downwards onto the roofs below, trying to identify where he currently was. His eyes could see the characteristic reddish hue of his place coming up next, a six-story building with brick walls that had once been a low-end hotel, but that had been converted into a large apartment block at some point. The monorail however would now make a turn to the right in order to evade some taller structures along the way, then come back sharp left later and reach the station near the other end of the street.

With the experience and precision of someone not doing this for the first time, Rókur opted to straighten things out. He made his way to the very rear of the vehicle where nobody would focus on him, then waited for it to both slow down and begin the turn. A few adjacent people almost stumbled backwards as there suddenly was noone left behind them in order to counteract the pressure of the crowd in front of them. Some looked at each other cluelessly, convincing themselves that what seemingly had just happened behind their backs was merely due to them not paying attention or their memory being wrong. Now he was out of that metal cage, allowing gravity to bring him up to his preferred speed before disappearing again in a short, brief trail of unexplainable mist.

A couple of seconds later Rókur came out like a spaceship emerging from hyperspace, the pickup truck's car alarm immediately starting to cry out for help as said spaceship crashed into the roof of the cabin. The windshield and side windows turned into popcorn and his nose smashed halfway into the rim of the selfmade impact crater. The landing procedure on this unexpected, non-solid ground had gone quite wrong.. He truly had not aimed for this, but probably some unfortunate gust of wind had induced a sideways drift in the wrong moment. There were plenty of free spaces in this backyard parking lot!

With gravity pulling a trickle of blood out of his severely bruised nose, Rókur hurried to get away from the scene. Luckily the apartment block now was a mere couple of yards away, but the clock was still ticking and he wasn't looking forward to any kind of encounter with the police. It would be difficult to explain...



'Low-end' indeed was the appropriate term to describe the place where he was living. Without sunlight it was almost impossible to see the big neon letters reading 'Milton' which had merely been turned off, but never removed from the wall above the main entry. A revolving door led into what had once been the reception hall, but had been stripped of all furniture and outfitted with a wall of post boxes for everyone. There was also a row of large and reinforced metal boxes which inhabitants could rent for storing stuff like bicycles in.

Rókur's dwelling place was located on the fourth floor, at the end of a very long corridor as they were characteristic for the hotel business. The carpets were gone and only worn-out linoleum was left, but the owner of this place still had at least some interest in not letting it fall apart completely. Of course Rókur's shirt still was traveling with the monorail, but he knew why to only use those as a thin, uppermost layer for stopping people from staring at him. It really wasn't a significant loss as he still wore the garments most familiar to him: Dark red cloth decorated with runes and with some chainmail underneath. Now those runes essentially said that he should not come back from his grave and haunt his family, but no ordinary passer-by could read this anyway. People in general had been quite afraid of their deceased turning against them for some unfinished business.

Walking along the endless row of anonymous doors to his left and right, Rókur encountered one of his neighbours: "Jesus! What kind of unholy mass have you been pulling off in that costume ? Are you a priest of some kind ?"

"Nope. LARP! And now please make room for me or I might indeed discover the unholy part of myself." Rókur's voice was quite thunderous to begin with, but that decisive tone right now had been added on purpose.

"Just kiddin'! Calm down, okay ?"

Rókur was quick to insert the key and to slam the door shut firmly behind him. A few calm minutes later his phone vibrated again, notifying him that the time had come. But as it would turn out noone actually came. If nothing would happen for the next half an hour or so he'd probably go and shoot some arrows as a means of relaxation. There was no lack of vacant buildings and abandoned factory halls in Santa Celia.

“You’re sure this is the right tunnel?”

“Yes.”

A young, rather short woman was making her way through one of Santa Celia’s many abandoned metro tunnels. Caucasian with a hint of Asian features to her face, pale blue eyes, black hair shaved short at the back and sides, the top still somewhat short and unkempt, a red-dyed streak above her forehead. Red shirt, black jacket, gray jeans, and black sneakers and gloves. She held a flashlight in her left hand, illuminating the tunnel. Her right hand held some form of communication device to her ear, connected to someone who wasn’t physically present.

“It’s up ahead.” The woman’s voice on the other end says. Her voice sounds aged, with an evident Iranian accent.

“Okay.” The young girl replies, “And no one’s gonna be down here, right?”

“No one. Stop worrying. I told you all the details.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I just… ju- oh my God it stinks down here!”

“That means you’re very close.”

The girl keeps moving, eventually coming up to a very out-of-place scene. A sludge-covered spot in the tunnel, a nest of a dozen large, baby-sized eggs forming a crooked circle around the spot. The girl shines her flashlight on them, a very disgusted look forming on her face as she catches sight of the infant-like silhouettes within the sanguine pods. She keeps a few feet worth of distance between herself and the nest, speaking to her friend on the line once again.

“Jesus Christ... Miss Shirazi, what do they want with-”

“Elsie, I need you to stop asking questions and just grab one of the eggs.”

“Okay! Okay… any one of them will do?”

“Yes, just be quick. We need to set it up in artificial incubation as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

The girl, Elsie, approaches one of the eggs. She crouched down and shines her flashlight at the infantile creature inside, once again narrowing her eyes and scrunching her nose in disgusted recoil. After a moment, she regains her composure and stands up. She places her gloved hands on the egg, pulling it upward. She struggles, but with some effort, the egg detaches from its place in the sludge-nest. Else holds it in her hands, grunting a bit at the egg’s surprising weight. She contacts her friend Miss Shirazi once again.

“Got it!”

“Good. Get back here quickly”

“Okay.”

And with that, Elsie vanishes instantly, along with the egg. The space where she stood fluctuates for a split second before correcting itself. Teleportation, an apparent ability of hers. She is gone without a trace - and the aswang nest with no parents to care for it is left to its own fate.

---

Minutes after Rókur had hastily made his return home, a familiar scene took place at his front door. A bright light shined underneath it for a brief moment, before dimming down just as fast. The door opened, and rather than the usual apartment hallway, the other side was now a bizarre place filled to the brim with just-as-bizarre supernatural beings - and no shortage of humans among them.

Out through the door stepped a very, very short imp of a man. Pale grey skin, bald head, very angular facial features with a long nose and pointed ears. Rectangular glasses rested before his pitch black eyes. He was dressed in a small leather coat, usual formal wear underneath. A pair of small, seemingly non-functional wings adorned his back, as well as a pointed tail, all sticking out through expertly made holes in his clothes.

“I know you thought you’d never hear this…” The little imp said as he shut the door behind him, “But I apologize for my tardiness, Rókur.”

Rókur had been busy reading the Santa Celia herald, a ‘newspaper’ if one wanted to put it that way. More educated and experienced people however had another word for it: Yellow press. Anyway - it was something to go on and to maybe even learn from. And it was cheap and available even for free sometimes.

When the bright light suddenly appeared beneath the door he knew that today’s archery training had to be canceled. With a slight groan he heaved himself out of a lounge that had already been kinda clapped-out when he had rented the room, but now after one year of regular use by him was next to collapsing completely.

Someone had told him that staring down at people was unfriendly, and experience told him that one should not mess around with any member of the tourists, no matter how… ridiculously small from one’s own perspective. So Rókur crouched, offering Jasper his hand for a greeting and trying to put up a gentle smile. His nose still looked as bad as it had right after the crash, but he didn’t care.

"Well… I’d say apology accepted. Never thought I’d get the opportunity to say this…"

“Things are crazy at the Center today.” Jasper replied, only very briefly accepting Rókur’s offer of a handshake before stepping further into the apartment. “People running around, slamming into each other. Thought I was going to be trampled several times.” He didn’t sound very amused at all about the events.

“Doesn’t matter. Here now. Go ahead and tell me what-” As Jasper turned his head to give Rókur a proper look, he finally noticed the giant man’s damaged nose.

“Good Lord, what happened to you?” Jasper asked.

"Erm… car accident." Rókur replied without truly thinking about his words. The door had been given a slight punch and thus closed by itself behind his back. "Big car. Don’t know why people buy those. It hurts quite a bit but I think it is under control. Definitely way better than being trampled upon I’d say."

“Get down here.” Jasper said sternly, pointing at the floor while maintaining eye contact.

For a brief moment Rókur considered his options, then apparently decided that it would be best to just follow suit. He sighed, then put his hands onto the floor and approached Jasper halfway crawling. "Is this low enough ?"

“Yes.” Jasper responded, as he proceeded to grab Rókur’s nose and quickly snap it back into proper formation.

A burst of pain surged through Rókur’s undead body, causing the man to emit a short, but nevertheless quite loud outcry. At least this kind of treatment had come as a surprise.

“Walk it off.” Jasper said with zero inhibition. “You’ve suffered plenty worse.”

"I’ve also been used to cry out way louder than that. How do you think did we try to keep thousands of warriors under control on the battlefield ?" Rókur answered in protest.

“Much more barbarically, I’m sure.” Jasper replied as Rókur raised himself off the floor. “Now, I’m afraid I don’t have time for the usual game of twenty questions. I’m taking it from the looks of things, you haven’t done anything to warrant unwanted attention, so I’m marking you down as satisfactory in that regard. Now, listen up…”

Jasper took a straight-up stand before Rókur, looking up at the man towering over him.

“I’m going to be busy for a while with some… meetings, between the Tourists and other parties. I won’t bother you with the fine details. But for that duration, I won’t be around to make the usual visit. Fortunately, there’s a couple people around who can.”

Jasper opened up one of his coat pockets and pulled out two slips of paper - photographs. One was of a finely dressed, bespectacled man with an unreasonable amount of hair. The other was a woman with much more kempt features.

“Kyle and Kayla Foster. They got here yesterday, charged with keeping an eye on the city, cleaning up trouble areas when they can. For the time being, I want you to get into contact with them and just let them know how things are going - you don’t have to be their friend or anything, unless that’s what you want, but it’s not my call. Just meet up with them or make the occasional phone call. That sound doable?”

Rókur arranged the two photographs between his thumb and the side of his index finger like a very humble set of cards, then looked at the two people to be seen on them. "I don’t have to be their friends?" was his first reaction, accompanied by a very questioning and worried stare at Jasper. "That doesn’t sound very… inviting? Well, doesn’t seem like I’d have much of a choice does it?"

“They’re field agents!” Jasper responded, “They get into messes, they shoot their guns and, fling their spells around- look, I don’t want you getting caught up in anything crazy, alright? Beyond that, It doesn’t matter how you associate with the two, just so long as you maintain weekly updates on… things. Alright?”

One really couldn’t say that Rókur’s facial expression was anywhere close to complete satisfaction, but he seemed to ease up a little. "So I’ll try not to push my luck and meet up with them while they happen to be in the field, but when things are more relaxed. One question though… How do they recognize me ? I mean… anyone could call them if he or she has the numbers and I could as well fit their definition of hostile to be eliminated or ?"

“Tell them Jasper sent you, and that I’m a friend of Crane’s.” Jasper replied, “That’ll be enough for them, trust me.”

Rókur let go of another sigh, then replied "Okay. I got it. Let’s just hope they don’t blow my head off, alright ?"

“If I know these two well enough by their files, they have their heads screwed on right enough to not just attack every supernatural thing in sight.” Jasper said, as he walked by Rókur and towards the door, removing another something from his coat pocket as he went. “I have to get going. I trust you’ll be fine from here on out?”

"I’m trying to -- and frankly speaking I’d say I haven’t been that bad at it for the last year. Just my opinion. Otherwise I guess it depends on your bureaucracy being right." Rókur stated with reference to said files. "You know I am probably one of the most primitive men in this city, but at least I can claim to have enjoyed a world without some of those modern… inventions!"

“You don’t have to enjoy the modern world Rókur, you just have to live in it.” Jasper said as he held up a large rubber stamp and pressed it against the door, emblazoning it with a mystic rune of some sort. The rune glowed, and once again a bright light shined beneath the doorframe.

Rókur watched closely as Jasper apparently was preparing for his departure. Some part of him truly wished he could pull off that kind of stuff, another part however was quite happy about how things were. Both sides of the coin probably had their advantages or at least so he hoped. A squeak could be heard from behind the couch -- apparently the few rats he had captured this morning were getting nervous about all the light. Not for long though… soon they’d be consumed.

“Do take care of yourself.” Jasper said, halfway sincerely, as he opened the door back to the crazy place from whence he came, “Let the Fosters know to contact the Center if you need anything.” And with that, he passed through the door, shutting it behind him. The rune quickly vanished as the bright light returned and then diminished once again.

Rókur kept looking at the door as it returned to its normal state as if nothing had ever happened. After a few seconds the rats squeaked again, pulling him out of his state of wondering and astonishment. Time to eat, or at least to perform his definition of it. His colossal arm reached behind the couch and grabbed the improvised cage, putting it on the floor in front if him. From then on Rókur just kept staring, watching as the humble creatures started to panic for an unexplainable reason. Others would have cried out and called the exterminator. For him this was a small feast.

---

^{9:07 pm}
How about a late supper? Pick me up from work?

Archie awoke very suddenly. The culprit was a violent buzz. It was an off day, so there's no way it was work, and it's not like his ex would call him after he had called her. So that left one person that he'd be likely to hear from...

His heart jumps into his throat as he texts back a quick response. He knows she works at Freckles because, all things considered, the only times he'd seen her not wearing the uniform was when she wasn't wearing anything at all. His mouth very suddenly goes dry at the thought, but he forces the thoughts away. This was not the time or the place for that. He sends his message, and leaves his bedroom to ready himself to pick her up.

There's something that's nice about texting, he thinks as he throws on a pair of jeans, because he doesn't have to look her in the eye. He doesn't have to see her hands and frown at the fact that they aren't engulfed in his; doesn't have to worry about whether or not he looks alright. He feels like texting might be a cop out for both of them, some sort of refusal to get too close too fast again, or maybe it's just nerves. Maybe they're too scared that it'll be too easy to fall into familiar routines, where conversations melt into kisses and hugs become hour long naps. For a moment Archie stops his line of thought to consider something else though. Perhaps some things should remain buried, and it could take a while before they even consider going grave-digging. Should he call it off and sleep on it?

No, he thinks. He's come this far.

Archie drove to Freckles and pulled around back in his old gray 2011 Toyota Corolla. It was nothing special, but a car was a car and as the guy who he bought it from said 'It beats walkin'.' There was only one issue though- Natalie wasn't there. Just some other Freckles employee that was pacing back and fourth. She was probably waiting for her own ride, he mused. He waited for a moment and considered sending Natalie a text, but didn't want to come off as too clingy. Opting instead to ask her co-worker. He rolled down the window and leaded his head out of the car.

"Excuse me, Miss? Have you seen Natalie anywhere? She asked me to pick her up from work."

---

@Silver Carrot, @Lord Wraith

_{Location Dark Residence - Downtown}

Part 1.

---

Joseph was pulling up onto the Apartment building, 11th and Oak Street, Downtown Sanda Celia, it was a nice enough neighbourhood, just a few miles to the Police Precinct, the 17th. It was a nice neighbourhood, The Darks were, despite Joseph's Detective salary and Karen's paralegal salaries two of the people on the lower end of the tax bracket. There were no neighborhood disputes and Joseph was even on the neighborhood watch. It was a quiet and safe place in a city full of chaos. A haven where the detective could calm down and relax, his loving wife by his side. He had a soft smile on his lips as he pulled the car, his black 1911 Porsche, from 2004. Into the parking garage under the apartments building. He turned off the engine and got his canvas bag and his leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder as he was walking to the elevator. Turning the key in the elevator it took him up to the ninth floor, top of the building. As he walked past the corridor, he saw two of his neighbors, Drake Williams and Matthew Washington - nice guys, Joseph and Karen had been invited - and attended their wedding. They created each other with smiles and small chuckles at off-remarks.

As he turned the corridor, he got an eerie feeling. The door was open to their apartment, just a little bit. Karen never left the door unlocked when she got home - and certainly not open. His hand instinctively on his holstered gun, he opened the door calmly, peering inside - nothing really off the ordinary.

As he took a few more steps inside, he saw the picture that was usually on the dresser in the hallway by the door smashed onto the ground, pieces of glass was all around it and even a small stain of blood. Drawing his gun he cleared the living room, moving into the kitchen - empty, though, more blood. "Karen?!" He shouted, twice. No response. Next, he heard a footstep behind him and he turned around, aiming his gun - his dark haired wife standing there, earbuds in her ears and a gauze and a compressor on her foot, she stopped dead in her tracks and looked confused and terrified when she saw Joseph with his gun out at her, he recoiled and put the gun away, taking a long sigh and chuckling "Oh my god. You scared me to death!" He shouted, Karen, whom had instinctively put her hands up pulled them down and realized what had happened "Wait, you thought? Oh my god. I'm sorry for scaring you, honey. I accidentally hit the picture while cleaning and stepped on it. I was in the bathroom putting on a bandage since it wouldn't stop bleeding."

The image turned blurry for Joseph and he saw a shadowy picture pull up behind Karen - and as he tried to tell her to watch out -he tried to pull his gun, he couldn't. He wasn't allowed to. Four loud bangs rang out, and Karen was struck with four red spots on her chest and neck. She fell to the ground, lifeless.

---

He woke up, heart pounding and his body full of sweat. That wasn't like any of the dreams he had had before - that felt like a memory. And in part, it was. He just knew that the story hadn't ended with Karen getting shot - it had ended with her showing him the Divorce papers and them fighting about it until he eventually left the apartment.

_{Location Casey Cassidy's Home - Árido Valley}

---

The floorboards were creaking as the shadowy figure stalked the home of the former FBI Agent Casey Cassidy. The moon was having a soft glow into the windows, not enough to see really anything inside. Each step the combat boots-clad figure took was filled with anticipation. He was sneaky, as sneaky as he could be. Yet, a man's home is his castle and nobody knows a home better than the one who lives there, for soon, the hunter would become the hunted.

As if out of the shadows themselves a baseball bat swung at the legs of the intruder, he caught himself as he was falling face first, but couldn't get up, turning around onto his back to get standing, but found the equally as big man on top of him, one knee to his chest, the bat pushed against his windpipe.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?!" The former agent spat out, and the man under him chuckled, softly. A chuckle that sent a creep down Casey's spine, loosening his grip slightly, enough for the pinned down man to break free, tapping the bat against Casey's forehead and switching positions with him, pinning Casey to the ground and the intruder hunching over the floor, his forearm to Casey's throat as the moonlight struck the man in the face, revealing his heavily scared face, his softly glowing eyes and his undeniable grin.

"Joseph?!" Casey asked, confused

"Hiya, Cass." The cyborg responded, getting off him and helping his old friend up from the floor.

---

It was a short and thankfully uneventful walk back to the motel. No surprises or ambushes, just two siblings returning to the one place they called home at the moment. And they were both fine with that. The effects of their prior drinking were beginning to return to them somewhat, now that their new friend Eli wasn’t applying an alleviating effect on their minds, and all the excitement of finding out there was a male aswang (that they, fortunately, did not have to deal with themselves) was wearing off.

Kayla was ready to hit the hay, after checking on her arm. Kyle, however, took it upon himself to ring Parker for an update, however bothered he was by a minor headache. He contacted the Center on his phone and had his call directed to the man, ready in the event that his head were wracked even more than it already was.

There was silence on the other side, then a sudden ‘Hmph!’ as if the person on the line was just realizing they had been connected to someone and was swallowing their drink. “Good evening, kiddo. Good to hear from you.”

“Yeah.” Kyle responded, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Aswangs are dead.”

“Excellent shooting, as always. Still coating the bullets the right way? Instead of however Rona teaches it?”

“I don’t want to get into it, Lance. Head hurts.”

“Sorry, kiddo. It’s just nice to hear from you. You two keep me young.”

“Yeah. Uh… Kayla and I are, gonna check for a nest tomorrow. The city has an abandoned metro network.”

Parker hummed on the other side of the line. “You did say Aswangs didn’t you? Did you ever find that Jäger I told you about?”

“Yeah. She wasn’t...” He sighed as he searched for fhe word. “Informed. Not that pleasant, either.”

“The enemy of thy enemy is thy friend.” Parker mused.

“I don’t think that’s the case here.” Kyle said in a rather deflated manner, “At least, she’s turned around on Kayla real quick.”

“Your sister has a way with people. I should’ve warned you about the potential of the Jäger being dormant. Witch blood and Jäger blood have history. I apologize.”

“It’s fine. There, uh… there’s some other stuff here. Vampires running drugs and prostitution rings, probably a lot more we don’t know about…” A heavy, tired sigh from Kyle. “Have to figure it out.”

“I’ve always been proud of you two. I don't have a doubt in my mind that you’ll do what you think is right. And take care of business of course.”

“Okay. I’m… I think that’s everything.”

There was a deep sigh on the other side of the line. “Ah, if you say so. Thank you for checking in, Kyle.”

“Actually, uh… there was someone else. This woman who had... mental powers, naturally. No magic at all. Metahuman.”

“Hmm. She help?”

“Yeah. A lot. She, uh… she does well, with the work.”

“Interesting. There is a small sect of other Tourists in the city exploring the metahuman epidemic - the mundane that become less mundane. If need be, I can always send you their way if you need help. Or send backup from here.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that mind.”

“This city gets more exciting by the day.”

“Yeah… anyway, that- that’s everything. Bye, Lance.”

“Have a good night, kiddo.”

With that, Kyle hung up his phone and set it aside on the nearby nightstand. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes a bit, about ready to get some sleep like his sister was already doing.

He didn’t know about Kayla, but he wanted to take care of that nest as early in the morning as they could manage.