His interest was indeed piqued by this spectacle unfolding in front of him, it was a quite unlike anything Vanja had come across in his many years as a mercenary traversing the far corners of the globe. It was rather obvious that this youth was not a vampire, he seemed to be a unique breed of supernatural one that was not even spoken about it whispers. It clearly a tremendous outpouring of power and would have made other men of lesser resolve regret their live choices as they beat a hasty retreat, but Vanja was not one to be easily intimidated or impressed. He maintained his composure as this was clearly not the first time he was threatened in his life. His smirk is slowly replaced by a scowl as the arrogance and self-aggrandizing of this whelp was grating to say the least; the impudence of youth was something he found he had little tolerance for.

Vanja sneers, “Well, well, well seems like I might have touched a nerve by not directing my comments towards yourself; exclusion can certainly be an affront to one’s ego especially to those that feel the inherent need to insert themselves into other’s conversations. Regardless you have indeed garnered my attention dear child. The grandstanding was perhaps unnecessary, unless you were attempting to out yourself to me than hearty congratulations are in order because you succeeded on that front. By your condescending demeanor I take it you are some sort of big deal around these parts, as you undoubtedly see yourself something special. I never met one of your kind that did not think that they were in some form the embodiment of the second-coming or some untouchable deity, but I am open to the possibility that some non-human entity out their can possess a modicum of humility. For some reason it seems like you are not confident in your friend’s ability to articulate a response on her own. You know if you let your subordinates hide behind you pathetically clinging to your pant leg like frightened youngsters, they will never learn to function properly on their own. Though, it is always handy to have bullet sponges around. However, I must digress.

It hardly pays to possess prejudices in my line of work boy; it might come to a surprise to you, but I am not beholden to the zealotry, political commitments, sectarianism, identitarian leanings, or dogmatism that blinds those that claim to crusade against you and your kind; they are under the impression that they have a moral obligation to protect the human race and the world from some manner of corruption or some such nonsense, while I hold no such beliefs as this mudball we all call home has always been contaminated and is honestly beyond saving at this point. Morality and ethics are only self-serving platitudes after all, little white lies concocted by deluded minds hoping to construct a refuge from the guilt that burdens them. I tend to think of myself and in extension the work I am engaged in merely as the final consequences the current system we all inhabit has chosen to dole out against those both human and other that choose to make a show of avoiding the stumbling blocks set forth by said system; you can certainly choose to label me as evil…in fact many have over the years have used their final words to do just that, but I and those of my ilk are just an inevitability. This might come as a shock, but the system in its current state does not exist to serve you or even me; never has and it never will.

So, outside of satiating your fastidious pride and allowing you to personally to save face in front of those assembled by asserting your alleged moral superiority, what does this reckless little display of emotions prove? Hmm? Am I meant to be scared? In awe perhaps? Are you going to beat me to a pulp and hope I beg for forgiveness like a dog? Hmm? Killing me would be a sensible course of action, the cardinal rule is that violence begets violence and I have made peace that having lived by the sword I am destined to die by it. Have you? I am a disposable asset, strike me down and you will find that the system has a whole assortment of other ne’er do wells, savages, adventures, fugitives, and other hired guns from all over the world lined up to tread in my stead. The gaps that you are your kind have been forced to inhabit are slowly closing and you are going have to eventually lose your lofty idealism should you wish to survive the transition. The world is going to break you one way or another if it has not already. Heroes only exist in fantasy kid. Though a lot of unanswered variables are hanging in the air at this moment, a whole slew of possibilities that have seemingly been unaccounted for, killing me would hardly solve them.”

Vanja slowly brings his hands back from behind his back palms forward indicating that he was indeed unarmed. Before he once again launch into another tirade the dazzling man moved closer yet again inserting himself into the fray. An intriguing turn of events. He gritted his teeth as for another round he attempted to resist the pull on his mind. He turned his attention to the man not entirely of his own accord and listened with a slight degree of enrapturement.

“You know for one so flippant you seem to be awfully interested in me and my current predicament. Sure, we haven’t before met Simon. Did you……Do you know…her? The one...who...”

He trailed off as his throbbing head finally found some measure of relief as he was enveloped by darkness, it seemed prolonged resistance had a price after all Shuddering with absolute exhaustion and released tension, he collapsed in a heap in the alleyway now oblivious to the world around him; knocked unconscious for the time being.

There was a heavy silence as Simon did nothing, and then, after a few more seconds, continued to do nothing. Finally, he moved towards the hunter's limp body.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, looks like we have an unconscious hunter on our hands," he announced cheerfully. "Does anyone have an idea what to do besides killing him? I mean, he suggested it himself, but any other suggestions?"

The first thought after that entered his head was I wonder why he just... fell like that? but then the thought was almost immediately replaced with what the hell is that girl's problem?

Simon rounded on Bonnie dramatically, jabbing a finger as she walked towards the back door. "Hey, don't think you're getting off scot-free, young lady. What the hell was all that? You coulda, like, at least have tried to... not blatantly be suspicious. Do you..." he squinted his eyes slightly. "Do you not realize how many people in this bar you just put at risk? You think you're the only one running around who has secrets? You think that man was just here to preach and be ominous? No, and this..." Simon seemed to abruptly calm down mid-sentence. "You're young, right? Not just for your kind, you're... young."

He sighed. "Whatever. Not time for a dressing down." He clapped his hands together. "So! Boys and girls of every age, what do we do with Mister Josip here? Personal vote - lock him up somewhere and ask him questions. Obviously he knows too much, but we should put off killing him. Also in that case, I vote myself as interrogator. Consider it pro bono." This was a matter of practicality - fae were notoriously good at both making people talk and making people hurt - and also of personal curiosity. Simon had already been curious, but the hunter's last words before he had fallen had been 'did you... do you know... her?' and something like that drove Simon's brain into a thirst for answers. If he had to poke him a bit to get an answer, well... old habits die hard.

The crossbow was new, Chasa thought as the older vampire brought it out. Her real attention still remained on Josip and DarnDarn. Luckily, the Hunter was doing the opposite of aggravating her charge now. Darnies's blade slowly lowered the longer the Hunter rambled on, ad she could see his shoulder begin to hunch with boredom, his head ticked to the side in confusion. It was hilarious that the Hunter believed Darnies to be drawing his attention for self centered reasons, because quite the opposite was true; there were families in this bar, little werepups and ankle biters that really did bite your ankles. There was a pregnant Succubus in the back corner with her Human wife, arms tight around each other. Darnies has in fact always taken it upon himself to protect this bar and the patrons within, and hearing Josip wax poetic with vile words set off his protective instincts so intensely that his Old Magic bled out. They'd have to look into that later.

"This dude is like...crazy crazy, huh?" Darnies spoke up as the man fainted. "Last time i heard a monologue like that, Aharon had seen me get thrown through my first window."

"I still do not like that it's a recurring theme with you young one," Aharon spoke up from beside him, having come over at the sound of his name. He knelt down and scanned a hand over the man's body while Simon contained his own emotional blow up at Bonnie. "The Human is fine, I don't even need to heal him. I could heal you though." He made the offer knowing the young Witch wouldn't accept, he never does.

"Thanks man, but I'm not a fan of the way Angel Grace feels, no offense."

"None taken," The Seraphim answered. "You're Earthen energy reacts to my own Celestial, it is nothing to feel offended over." He went back to his stool at the bar, picking up his book and giving Akseli an exasperated glare when his Charge offered him a shot glass. With a grin Akseli then pulled out the frsh steeped tea he had hidden behind his back and gave that to the Angel, who took it gratefully.

Simon's attention had returned to the Hunter, throwing out ways to deal with him with an almost cold joy. Well, he was a Fae, and obviously by the smoking and bar-inhabiting, he wasn't one from the forests. He was probably Wild or nomadic.

"Actually," Chasa cut in, bending down and throwing the body over her shoulder like it was nothing. "We have a good place for that."

"Yeah, and I'd love to leave the torture-interrogation to you, that shit makes me queasy." Of course, the reason for that is because he himself had been chained up and tortured and now he has panic attacks whenever he's too close to the subject of it, but he wasn't about to tell strangers that. "Baby Vamp, Ms. Mysterious, you're also welcome to join us, as we all seem to have some questions. Shall we?" and him and Chasa began walking out the door and down the alleyway, Darnies twirling his fingers a bit and making Josip invisible to any but their group, who had already perceived him.

~ Neirie ~

As Josip finished his second monologue for the morning, Neirie squinted her face for a moment. Did he really think so badly of every sentient being? Just because they were more powerful? Don't get it wrong mind you, ever since becoming a vampire all those centuries ago she's considered herself more of a monster than anything. And she knew that a lot of beings like herself with power and abilities rarely used them for anything good. But she didn't think EvErY being with supernatural abilities was evil just by nature.
As Josip collapsed Neirie's shoulders sagged in slight relief but with a hint of sadness. This man seemed very troubled, not just as a Hunter, but as a human. He seemed to have a battle going on in his own soul and mind that made the monsters he faced in the real world that much more terrifying. As Simon seemed to both simultaneously be eager and dread the chance to poke the man for questions, Neirie collapsed her bow and slid it back into her Batpack. She sighed heavily, turning to glance at the being Darnies called Aharon, as he came up beside them. This beings energy was massive and amazing! She'd never quite felt it this way before. She'd only ever come across Fallen Celestials or Angels of Death. This was something else. Keeping her gleaming eyes on the 'Celestial', she took one last quick glance at Josip and whispered under her breath, "Who we are, and who we need to be to survive, are two very different things." Her bright pink eyes appeared to physically glaze over for a brief moment, seemingly lost in time and memory. Almost as if she had recalled the swaying shadows to engulf her, her aura itself seemed to be made of dark grey smoke and shadows as she almost disappeared into her past.
"How do you destroy a Monster... Without becoming one? Perhaps that's why you're so tormented?..."
She blinked and glanced upwards and her eyes and aura were back to their usual energetic self, as if nothing had even momentarily transpired. She kept her gaze on Aharon until he returned to the bar and then she smirked widely and bounced as Chasa threw Josip over her shoulder and Darnies beckoned them to come along. She abruptly brought her feet together, pressing her hands together in front of her, while quickly jotting her head down in a bowing motion towards Darnies.
"Oh! Forgive me! You may call me Neirie, it is a pleasure to make your aq... She trailed off as she stood and realized he was already halfway down the alley making the human man shimmer oddly. Ah, he must be hiding him somehow. Clever little thing he was. She glanced back at Simon and the Bonnie girl and raised a hand to wave at the girl, "i hope you come along Boo! I'd very much like a new friend, and you seem very fun!" She smiled a broad cheshire grin and lightly bounce walked, briskly, to catch up behind Darnies.

They led everyone to the edge of town and then into the woods surrounding it, not a hard task given how small Gravette was. Another few minute walk through the woods and Darnies and Chasa stopped suddenly, and the Witch pulled his hand from his pocket to rest them against an old, random tree with a soft hum. The bottom of the trunk began to shimmer before disappearing completely, leaving a large, dark hole that filled half the trunk bottom and its roots.

"I'll go in first," Darnies said, sitting down at the edge and holding the top of the entrance with the hand not holding his cane, like he was at a waterpark going down a slide. "Chasa will follow up the rear once y'all are through." And with that, he used the leverage he had to push himself down, disappearing down the tunnel with the sound of rustling leaves.

When he appeared at the bottom, coming to soft stop, he wiped off his clothes and stood off to the side, waiting for the others.

The cavern was beautiful. It was well lit by luminescent crystals and covered in green. Flowers and other plants seemed randomly interspersed, but Darnies knew they were always put near another plant that wouldn't interact with their magical properties. Moss hung from the ceiling and a small waterfall could be seen to the right of the entrance, leading into a shallow pond. Overall, it was beautiful.

"Hello, Little Earth," A voice announced behind him, and he tilted his head a bit to see the owner. A woman with faded green skin and rich brown hair, twisting gray horns standing atop. Vines made up her clothes and even came seemingly straight from her body, wrapping around it. Her tree-trunk brown eyes shone with life.

"Vie! Good to see you, how's everything going." He replied, a large grin spreading on his face.

"Very well, I've harvested several plants already, and have not had to deal with any invasive species. Many other plants are close to harvest."

"That's great!" He replied as the others finally appeared at the bottom. Just before Chasa, Josip was sent down, and his limp body rolled a few times before coming to a stop. Chasa then appeared at the entrance, crouched down to see what had happened.

"Should I not have tossed him down?" She asked, head tilted like a confused puppy. "It's a pretty simple trip down..."

Darnies laughed, looking at the Hunter with glee. "Nah Chasa, you were perfect, it's exactly what he needed." He replied. Then, he turned to Vie and led her forward to meet the others. "Everyone, this is Violet, Violet this is...ah..."

"Simon, Neirie, and..." Chasa frowned. "I don't think we got your name yet," She said to Bonnie. "We've been a bit busy." she explained for Vie's sake.

"Pleasure to meet you all." Vie said honestly. "Are you here to buy-"

"Nope! No, Vie," Darnies interrupted before cocking his head. "Or, well, maybe later. Right now we're here to interrogate a Hunter in peace."

Her features darkened a bit in understanding. "The cavern behind the waterfall is open and it keeps him from seeing the whole Garden." She supplied with a glare towards the Hunter.

Darnies could understand, of course, as the way he had met the Forest Nymph was less than pleasant. He and Chasa had been hiding in a small patch of forest for the night to get to sleep when smoke had woken their senses. Violet had crashed through the trees, half burned and screaming in terror. A Hunter broke through the small clearing just a second after her, homemade flamethrower poised to fire again.

"Chasa, take care of him please." Darnies had said, carefully grabbing the wounded creature while pulling a salve out of his threadbare bag. As he applied the salve, Chasa towered over the Hunter, raising a judgmental eyebrow as he tried to use the weapon on her. He would, of course, need more than that to effect her clay-birthed form.

That was the last Hunter they had killed before coming to Gravette. Vie had actually been the one to sense this place, and they spent a few months making into a thriving environment. When they decided to move into Gravette, Vie chose to stay behind and make it her new Domain, taking care of everything when Darnies couldn't.

Darnies looked to the other Beings, the first ones to ever see their Garden.

"Alright, through the waterfall then." He announced as Chasa picked Josip back up.

Most of the walk, short as it was, Simon was deep in thought. Not on the situation at hand; even during times as strange as these, Simon had a wandering mind.

Instead, he thought of the Hunt. He remembered, with half fondness and half guilt, the piercing white of the snow on most days, the chill that had never bothered him or his brothers. Wild fae loved to wear brutish things, but in small amounts; maybe it was vanity, or maybe it was mocking the humans who always seemed to wear heavy furs to stave off the cold. Back then the Wild fae seemed of one mind. No one questioned the King, and infighting was rare. Humans were only thought of as prey or toys, but never as a threat, not really. How far humanity has come.

Yet with all the years passed since the Hunt, Simon was still afraid some days. Wild fae were rare, but not exactly a dying breed. Simon had met some over the years, some like him who had grown to admire certain humans, and some who still followed the old ways and hated humans with a fanatic passion. And rumors always persisted that the King waited, and waited, and waited. What Simon was afraid of was the King coming back, because in the end, Simon was a fae of the Hunt, and his tattoo branded him as such. Simon had lived outside the Hunt because the Hunt had scattered, including the King, but if the King truly returned, there would be little choice for Simon. He would likely have to return. All Simon had right now was a very long leash, and Simon and all Wild fae knew that the King would only let them go in death.

But then their group reached the tree, and Simon dispelled those thoughts. The King had waited thousands of years, and knowing him could wait thousands more. He had no reason to crusade. Simon was safe, so he told himself.

Simon dropped with an almost theatrical grace into the garden, taking it in calmly. His landing was almost spoiled by the hunter's body almost hitting the back of his legs, something he stepped out of the way of with a slight frown. He gave a polite wave to the nymph - luckily Darnies was already going through introductions - and turned his eyes back to the garden.

"Hmm, waterfall interrogation. Nice change of scenery compared to a dungeon or something, at least." Simon clapped his hands together. "Well, I'm eager to get to work, team, so let's hurry on." He set a swift stride to the waterfall. His interrogation skills were likely very, very rusty, but, in his experience, the painful bits were like riding a bike for him - just start brute forcing it and the technique will come back to you like an old friend.

The Archipelago was once much more than one of the plethora of eateries that populated Gravette, at one time this particular establishment was where the rich, the powerful, the famous and those who fell under all of the above came to conduct the city's most pressing business of the day. These booths bore witness to both the rise and fall of many influential people throughout the city's storied history. Before these times of socially imposed austerity and responsibility, it was a bastion of decadent frivolity where purchasing a cup of coffee that cost more than what most folks made in a day was lauded rather than derided. To have a reservation here used to mean something, it was once a statement of one's importance. Instead of resting on its laurels this place was now a shell of its former self having given up its exclusivity years ago in order to cater to waning and waxing trends. A cautionary tale for sure.

Kav would have never come to this nostalgia trap on his own accord as this place was filled with a lot of bougie tourists, the type who worked all year to afford second hand Louis Vuitton bags in order to brag to their coworkers at the dingy little office they slaved away in. Those that frequented here nowadays reeked of desperation, which was something that Kav found often permeated one's entire personality. This scene was so pathetic that he even refused livestream himself here as it would come off as pandering even to the type of audience he normally attracted. He let himself sink deeper into the garish, worn leather of the booth's seats trying his best not to been seen at an establishment such as this. His disdain for places like this was more than likely the reason his rather eccentric companion insisted on dinning here. If any other person or being had extended an invitation to this place, Kav would have produced a litany of excuses on why he simply could not attend, but Knog was an exception. Knog, a satyr was one of the handful of supernaturals that Kav risked interacting with.
The two men sitting across from each other could not be more different. Kav's is flamboyantly dressed in a silk blouse, which is open at the throat; this is complemented by velvet pants which are the color of dried currants. He is sharp angles wrapped in soft clothing; he exudes an unnatural beauty. In contrast Knog has a lecherous, alcohol-sodden, haggard appearance; he appears to be the older one of the pair by a number of years. His clothing are tattered and he is caked in what could be loosely be described as grime. Knog clearly wears his sins with pride, his libertine spirit resonates deep within his grubby core. Kav made a habit of interacting with the fashion impaired as little as possible, but much to his dismay sometimes certain skills and talents were only gifted to the unsightly.

Knog has been talking. Kav’s ear off for the past hour, they aren’t really having a conversation as there’s little reciprocation here, just Knog rambling. Kav knew better to interrupt, lest the old goat start his ranting and raving from the begining, though he was slowly losing interest in the interaction. Between sips of an unimpressive vintage Champagne Kav was preoccupied with his emery board, scratching his nails into points.

"Remember Alexandria? Ah, good times my boy. Remember, when we hoodwinked that Sphinx. Got her good, we did. Got her so good, she is probably still raging to this day bemoaning the loss of her precious treasure trove of secrets. A Sphinx who is also cat burglar, is just a succulent combination. She really had my hooves over the fire with those uh...tapes. And you know I have no great luck when it comes to riddles and other assorted whimsical trickery. You really did me a solid, I would have been finished...kaput...if the content on those tapes were leaked. Afterall, what good is a compromised information broker..."

"Boring. You are boring me Knog darling and in doing so you are testing my patience. As much as I would love to sit in this rundown tourist trap and rehash our past escapades down to every minute detail, I am a very busy individual. My adoring public needs to live vicariously through me and they cannot do that if I stuck listening to you prattle on about nothing all damn day. Is there any particular purpose behind you dragging me out of bed and the arms of one my many lovers? Because, if not I going to mysteriously become alot harder to reach in the future."

Knog, pretended to be offended at Kav's comments, before retorting. "You would not dare pass me off to one of your assistants because you know full well that I would make that poor unfortunate soul's life a living hell. Since what I have to say is time sensitive, I might as well tell you now. That special someone you wanted me to track down, well I have it on good authority that he is here in the city. One of my nameless contacts in the underground clued me into that."

Knog smirks as he produces a unique looking matchbox from his jacket pocket. "You know matches commonly come from places like China or Russia. Not a lot of interest in importing such things from a tiny village in Bulgaria. Someone's trash can certainly say a lot about them. Don’t you think so your grace."

Kav beamed primarily because he loved when those below him acknowledged his superior station in this world, but also at the news. He arched his eyebrow. "You know for once I am actually eager to hear what you have to say. Do go on my good sir."
------


Vanja drifted for an indeterminate amount of time in the realm only know to those who succumbed to sleep or in his case unconsciousness, the realm of half formed thoughts and hazy memories. Jumbled images made their way into the forefront of his mind and the sound of words spoken yet forgotten reverberated throughout his consciousness. He pondered as many do in this state if he was indeed dead or just dreaming before succumbing to an errant memory and repeating the process ad nauseum. This state of being is only temporary and eventually Vanja was roused from his slumber and returned to the realm of the waking. For the briefest of milliseconds one awakens as a blank slate before the reality of their life up to this moment catches up to them. He certainly had a few questions with ‘Where was he’ and ‘What Happened’ being among the primary among them. Last thing he could remember was having a confrontation an alleyway in front of a dive bar. Wait was someone carrying him? It all came flooding back at this precise moment. He would have honestly preferred if they killed him instead of subjecting him to the indignity of having the brutish bodybuilder lug him around like a sack of lumpy potatoes. He could not fault them for wanting to comb his mind for information on his cohorts, smart move.

He mulled over if he was just going to sell Harry Alberts out to these creatures. God, this was turning out to be another Kathmandu. Alberts could have warned him at breakfast that a group like his current captors was hunting in the vicinity of the café, but despite them being shockingly easy to find he doubted Alberts was looking too hard. That good-for-nothing waste of space sadist was probably distracted by hunting his own prey in this urban jungle. Though he had to wonder if Alberts set him up, perhaps he was not as stupid as he appeared to be; typical lazy coward had to have others do his dirty work. If Alberts had any honor, he would have done the dirty deed himself, well to be fair if Alberts had any honor he would not be a unrepentant serial killer. On the other hand, perhaps this was just a coincidence an unlucky coincidence stemming from his own hubris. Vanja quelled these intrusive thoughts for the moment and he tried to get his bearings.

For some strange reason he could not shake the feeling he was thrown down a flight of stairs recently despite to his knowledge only collapsing in the alleyway, also there was the all-encompassing sound of rushing water. Waterboarding was certainly a way to extract information…not accurate information, but information, nonetheless. However, if the sounds were anything to go by his captors were going a little overboard. Perhaps his eardrum was ruptured in his collapse. He pondered on the reasoning behind that earlier failure; maybe one of them had psionic or sonic abilities, he certainly seen stranger things than that occur since becoming a mercenary. He was willing to endure whatever his captors had instore for him. He would find a way to turn things back into his favor, if he had to deal with devils in the interim so be it.

Just as Bonnie attempted to make her great escape, hoping to be free of this band of weirdos and their very talkative bad vibes, she felt the jab at her side. Bo turned around with a confused expression, which only shifted to light annoyance as this man started to scold her for whatever reason. Of course, to someone who was well equipped with vampire etiquette - or perhaps, supernatural etiquette in general - they would agree with him. But to Bo this was just another person trying to tell her what to do.

"'Ey ey, fuckin' cool it with the lecture, will ya? You're not my dad, bro." Her hands went up, not really sure why or what he was going on about. Bo's red eyes squint and flicker up and down Simon, her mouth frowning into a pout as she shoves her hands into her jean pockets.

She turned around and peeked at the fallen hunter, a tilt of her head soon followed by a shrug of her shoulders. "As far as I'm concerned that weirdo doesn't know how to do anything else BUT preach." She responded to Simon once more. No further mention of her young appearance, she was quite young in both vampire and human years. Though how they were able to tell was not knowledge she knew or cared about.

Bonnie didn't think to follow them at first, not only did she have no questions to ask, but really was weirded out by this group of supernaturals. Yet, there was something enticing about that, all the shenanigans they would get into.. such a ragtag group.. maybe there'd be some unfortunate humans who got in the fray. Free food right? It wasn't until Neirie had asked her to come along did Bo finally make her decision. She shrugged again, that crooked smile on her face widening, and followed the others down the alleyway. "Aiight, well, if you WANT me to come, got nothin' better to do anyways." Not even giving the dumpster a second glance.

The vampire was new to most supernatural happenings, all of the magic that Darnies seemed to perform was pretty mind boggling to her. She had no idea why she was trusting any of them, or where any of this was going to lead. But Bonnie wasn't exactly the type to question such things for long. Besides, tree slide! "Woah.. sick." She chuckled, that calm surfer dude down-to-earth attitude peeking through as she watched the others slide down this seemingly magical tree opening.

Of course, unlike her new friends, Bo's landing was not the most graceful. She wooted as she tumbled into the grass, snickering, eventually on her back staring up at the glowing cavern walls. Eyes lit up, immediately taken by the beauty around them. "Holy shit dude! What is this place?? It's like, that one music festival I went to in Toronto... or what I remember of it anyways." She giggled, fixing her beanie and quickly standing on her feet, soon by the others with remarkable speed. It didn't take her too long to get distracted again, eyeing their new tree like companion, but mostly checking out some glowing flowers, picking at the petals.

She tuned back into their conversation at the mention of interrogation. Her head lifted up to look towards the group, nose scrunched at the reminder that they came here for a reason. "Do we all like, gotta go in there? I'd rather be out here with all this shit, I mean, come on, this is RADICAL." Bonnie poked at the flowers again, hoping they wouldn't ask her to follow them. Though the fancy waterfall area did sound kind of cool... it probably wouldn't take too much convincing on her end to get her to leave with the others.

Simon was striding back and forth next to the waterfall. Technically, he was 'reformed', and as such didn't engage in any violent activities. However, this was technically for a good cause and definitely had good reason, so he was fine with setting aside restraint for a bit. It had been such a long time since he had the opportunity to really dig into someone, and now he didn't even have to feel to guilty about it.

Abruptly, he turned. "Excuse me," he directed to Darnies. "Do we have any..." he waved his hand vaguely. "Medical supplies or healing stuffs? It'll put my mind at ease if my chances of accidentally killing him before we get anything interesting are lowered. Oh, and any tools would be appreciated - sharp things, blunt things, heavy things. I can be creative. Are there any ants down here? Do we have salt water? Both would be appreciated, though ants can be fickle. Either way, I can get started pretty much immediately without any of that, but all of that stuff will help. But, uh, maybe put him back there for now. I'll get started in a sec."

All Simon had on him currently was switchblade. It was sort of risky for a fae to carry iron weaponry, but most modern blades had it and Simon was too lazy to locate or pay for anything else. Even a small blade could put some heavy damage in, if he so desired.

His eye turned to the young girl, the one who'd gotten them into this mess. She clearly hadn't gotten too good of a grasp on the struggles she would have with Hunters. She probably got unlucky, with her first real run in being all this garbage.

"Well, it's going to be a good learning opportunity. I think we'll have some pretty sights in there, provided you're not squeamish and that you can appreciate shades of red. Actually - do you have any problems with blood? Then you might wanna wait out here with the green instead." Because, even if Simon was cutting someone up, it was important to ensure everyone besides the victim was comfortable at least.

Darnies was very curious just how old the younger vampire had been when she was bit, and how long it has been since. He knew she felt fresh against the wards back at the bar but that could mean any number of years depending on what strain of vamp she was. Watching her bounce around as she took in the Garden made his heart hurt, just a bit. He wondered how she managed such a youthful exuberance, and if maybe he would have looked that excited about things if he still had his Coven with him. When she asked about staying behind, he had to restrain a smile.

Turning to Vie, he whispered to her, "Make sure you give her some of the O negative strain, it'll chill her out a bit," before turning back to her. "You can stay in the Garden, I'll have Chasa come stay with you once she drops the Hunter behind the Fall. Something tells me you'd love to sample some of our product and Vie knows how everything effects each creature, so she'll chill with ya too." Chasa looked ready to object to leaving his side, but he quickly turned to Simon as the Fae spoke up. The thought of this being a learning experience put an odd taste in his mouth, but he couldn't argue with the Fae; obviously the younger vampire never had a bad enough encounter to make her wary, this might help her realize the severity. "Come in after you've spent some time out here. It tends to be something you have to gather yourself together for so you wont go into a Frenzy, yeah?" The last thing he needed was a rabid baby vampire tearing through his safe haven.

He quickly ushered Simon behind the fountain and watched as Chasa set the Hunter down. He then went all the way to the back of the cavern where the light didn't reach, and took a deep, shaky breath as he went to open the chest there. He fumbled with the lock, breath catching in his throat.

"DarnDarn..." Chasa called softly from the front.

"I'm ok," he replied, closing his eyes and willing his hands to still. He pressed his magic into the padlock and sighed as it popped open. Darnies should have brought tools with him. Hell, he should have asked Akseli if he had any spare brass knuckles, that would have been a start. But there was something...poetic, almost, about them using the tools and chains he was pulling out. Chasa was stiff as a board next to Simon as she listened to the manacles clink and crash together. He knew she didn't like these items any more than he did, what with his residual emotions regarding them no doubt seeping into her during her creation.

He came back into the light with the manacles and a rolled up leather case, stained with long-dried blood.

His, of course. And the blood of every other Witch the Brant family had ever tortured and killed. He held the case out to Simon and quickly dropped it into the Fae's hands.

"Don't worry, all the tools you're getting are iridium, they won't burn you." The just keep them the fuck away from me went unsaid, but he's sure the Fae got the message. He held the chains up next, but his hands couldn't seem to let go of them, despite the redness it caused his hands and the smoke rising from the point of contact. Chasa took that moment to come over, gently placing her hands over his and making him jump. He must have been zoning out, because his skin was redder, and the hot needle feeling had made it all the way up his arm. He had gotten lost staring at the filed and scratched surface of the manacles where all of the binding runes had sat, before he couldn't take it one day early on in their stay at the garden. He had spent the whole day filing off the evil things so there was no trace of what they could even have been.

"DarnDarn, let me," Chasa spoke up, taking the damned things from his rigid grip and chaining the Hunter up with an efficiency that told the others she had done this before. Of course, she and Darnies hadn't tortured or imprisoned Hunters down here before, but that doesn't mean they never have. She finished the last bolt and got up, turning to the two men. "Darn-"

"I changed my mind, you stay here with Simon and I'll go entertain Baby Vamp, I need to...chill." and he was gone, leaving Fae and Golem to stare at each other.

"Sorry," Chasa spoke up, tilting her head at the tools in the Fae's hands. "Lots of bad memories." That was all the explanation she'd give him, as any Creature older than a few years would be fairly aware of just what that entailed, especially if Simon had figured out just what Darnies was.

"Sooooooo," she clapped her hands together, the sound booming even over the sound of the water behind them. "Torture time? Darnies will come back inside to heal him up if you think you went too far."

---

"Hey Baby Vamp, Neirie, change of plans! Do you smoke? I need a very big blunt and I haven't had a chance to sell my newest Blood Strain, so y'all would make great taste testers!" He was totally cheery. No racing heart or fuzzy head as the memories ate at him whole, definitely not.

The look Vie gave him said he couldn't even lie to himself.

Simon almost cooed when Darnies presented him with the tools. "Ahh, good. This should make everything much easier." He took the tools eagerly, but narrow his eyes when Darnies hesitated with the manacles. Not suspicion, but his natural Fae tendency to be nosy. Clearly the young man had some sort of trauma around these tools - the signs were hard to miss, and Darnies had held the manacles long enough to burn himself. And that too drew his attention; iridium apparently burned him on contact. Simon never really made it a priority to learn the weaknesses of others of supernatural persuasion, but this one scratched something at the back of his mind. Simon's eyes darted down to the manacles; the surfaces were worn down significantly more than the usual wear and tear of time or use would do, especially on the outside of them. Done manually, then - but why?

But Simon knew to respect privacy, at least to people's faces. He watched Chasa chain the hunter up silently, his eyes on Darnies as he left. He nodded understanding at Chasa's comment. So the tools were likely originally used on other supernatural beings. Maybe someone Darnies knew? Loved ones, friends, family? Himself? Simon pushed his curiosity down. Right now, he had work to do.

With something approaching solemnity, Simon rolled out the blood-stained leather. Inside were the tools of the trade: thumbscrews, a scourge, a variety of blades, a couple of cones Simon assumed were for forcefeeding, some cloth and rags, presumably for water- or dry-boarding, smelling salts, and gags, among other things.

It seemed as if Simon was in a world of his own as he inspected the tools. He seemed calm, focused, but the longer he looked at them, the more something seemed to permeate his being, practically pushing at the surface. Something like... hunger. It seemed like a sort of irony that the vampires were outside while Simon was going through something very similar to bloodthirst. Parts of his glamour began to slip; he seemed to have abruptly grown paler, leaning over the tools like a grey vulture tired of waiting for his prey to die. Scars grew darker on his face, marring what had a few seconds ago been unblemished skin. He picked up a scalpel in one hand. His total focus was on the hunter, with Chasa simply an observer.

He leaned in close to the hunter's face. "Open your eyes, kind sir." His voice, previously possessing a slight rasp, now sounded hoarse. "We're going to play a game. For the first part, I will work, and you will listen. Then, I will ask, and you will answer. But that comes later. This part, all I need is for you to be awake."

The manacles seemed tight, and Simon was feeling confident, so he let himself come closer. The scalpel drifted a lazy path across the hunter's face, from his cheek to his chin, then dangerously close to his right eye.

"When I was younger, I considered myself something of a scholar," Simon chuckled. "I learned many things about pain and how to inflict it. In many ways, torture is an art. You must think of it with no restrictions - every piece of skin can be burned, frozen, pierced, bruised, removed. Pain is not hard. Keeping the victim alive is harder. Not rushing the process is harder. The trick is to keep a balance between too much and too little." His brow furrowed slightly. "I was never a good student, sadly. Not of others. I was better at learning alone. Practice makes perfect, they say. All of that was a long time ago. I am different now. But I am, like all my people, my base instincts. We can play at humanity, take in their arts and love and pretend that is who we are. All of that is just a thin veil thrown over the fact that we are cruel beings. Our nature cannot be denied. Only ignored for a time."

Abruptly he turned away, putting the scalpel back and returning with something resembling a vice. He set it gently on the ground besides him. "First, kind sir, I will break a finger. Then I will break another. I will proceed depending on how well you take it. Maybe then I will ask a question, and if you do not answer it, I will be more creative."

He gripped the hunter's hand tightly. "Just hold on, now. Think happy thoughts." He tensed his arm for a second, then, suddenly and violently, twisted the hunter's index finger.

~ Neirie ~

She giggled softly as she noticed Bo following them, bringing up the rear of the group. As they came to the edge of town and wandered into the more wooded areas beyond, her demeanor shifted slightly to more of a watchful and protective haunch in her shoulders. They came upon the tree tunnel and her demeanor shifted yet again to an almost giddy bounce. As the others hurdled themselves down the slide like tunnel, she turned around and slid down backwards. Noticing the pile up at the end of the lovely slide, she quickly teleported to her feet just past the pile of hunter and the other super naturals.
Her bright pink eyes still glowing with hunger, they flashed rapidly back and forth as she tried to take in all the lovely sights as quickly as possible. Almost bouncing from one area to another, she began teleporting in short hops around the area. First appearing in front of the waterfall, then behind, then next to Vie and Darnies then next to some of the undergrowth. Trying to keep her excitement inside her chest she then glanced at Darnies with a sad frown as she could hear the sadness in his voice and feel the heat wafting off of the manacles as he held them.
She was just about to teleport to his side to relieve him of them just as Simon began to take control of the situation.
Haunting memories flooded her mind as the years and years of training that could be viewed to some humans as torture, replayed through her minds eye. She shook her head from side to side rather rapidly and a large cheshire grin replaced her previous frown as Darnies asked whether she and Boo were fans of a good smoke. She giggled and teleported next to him and Vie and nodded quickly.
Her pink eyes glanced only momentarily at the bag of blood being thrown around but then merely shrugged it off while pushing her fingertips together in giddy anticipation.

A vicious looking smile enveloped his face as Kav made his way out of the The Archipelago with Knog in toe; Kav only briefly stopped to place a few high denomination bills in the hands of the rather bewildered Maître d'. The duo stepped out of the restaurant, where they were met by an attractive silver haired human wearing a chauffer's uniform. Wordlessly she opened the back door to a 2020 Mercedes-Maybach S560 before she moved around it to slip into the driver's seat with a certain grace that only comes after years of practice.

"Well, that was certainly an abbreviated meal, sir. With your…current choice of company I take it that you are unable attend to your prior commitments for the foreseeable future", Callie says in a tone that barely hides her personal distaste of Kav’s current companion as having served with Mr. Vilhjálmsson for a number of years she was well aware which of his vast number of associates were the most likely to cause some sort of incident.

Knog seemed oblivious or at least did not acknowledge the obvious distain in Callie’s voice as he stared intently at her in an off-putting manner, before becoming distracted by the sudden prospect of potential treasures contained in-between the seats.

“I oh so hate to renegade on my promises, but much to my surprise this little social call has evolved into rather pressing matter. Hmm...postpone my meeting with Guru Yogarasa until next month but ensure his camp that the Upper-Krust brand is still on board with shilling his worthless sweatshop supplements and insipid self-help books provided the checks continue to be written for the previously discussed amount. In fact, have Charles…no, scratch that…take Terence off the Yves Saint Laurent co-promotion for the time being and have him spearhead some sign of good faith with these people. Just tell him to gather some of the non-essential staff preferably interns and have them take some classes at one of the Ashrams, film some glowing positive testimonials for social media, and so on. Also, have Terence workshop the phrase, ‘Inner Beauty Initiative’ with the Guru’s people and see if they are amenable with it. On a related note, reroute any residuals that come from this partnership to my preferred offshore accounts. For the rest of my appointments just relay the normal condolences and excuses where appropriate.” Kav says as he idly twirls a loose strand of hair between his fingers.

“Understood, sir. And our destination?” She inquired, while seemingly adjusting the rearview mirror.

“For now, just drive. Ensure we are not being followed and I’ll enter the approximate address on the GPS when the opportunity presents itself.”

Callie wordlessly closed the partition ensuring her boss had his privacy and effortlessly merged the vehicle into Gravette's Early Morning traffic awaiting further instructions.

Knog dejectedly stopped digging into the cushions. “A clean car is most unnatural, a bad omen, a clear sign that someone is hiding something.”

“Just because you choose to subject yourself to all manners of filth dear Knog, does not mean the rest of us have to follow your poor example.”

“Filth? Ha, that is rich coming from you, your highness. It seems you have become well versed in comedy since our last get together. Did I already say that…hmm? Regardless, remember your abilities don’t work on me boy, so I am not as easily manipulated as those humans that know you from the Facegram or whatever. Might want to work on your own ‘Inner Beauty’ before peddling it to the primates. But, I am certainly not one to be dispensing advice nor do I take much pleasure in engaging in friendly fire. Dispensing brew on the other hand, is something I can do.” Knog produces a dusty unmarked bottle from his tattered backpack.

“Your insolence is most unappealing and your limp-wristed gibes at my expense are unwarranted to say the least, but for old times’ sake I am willing to overlook your plethora of character flaws…at least for now.”

Kav rolls his eyes as Knog produces the unlabeled bottle from his knapsack.

“Amazing. You never cease to amaze me. You do realize, we could have procured any number of alcoholic beverages at the establishment we just departed? Also, you made it quite clear that we are going to another bar.” Kav remarks as he watches Knog unscrew the cork and start to ingest the contents of the aforementioned bottle.

“Aye, but this here be Gorgon Wine. Homemade Gorgon Wine to be precise. Made right here in this very city. Said to keep the hunters at bay”

[color=f08080“Ugh, I swear you do this on purpose just to mock me darling. I am this close to throwing you out of my very very expensive car. Let me hazard to guess this concoction is made by the trio of wretched sisters right…the Scarletwound Sisters. What you are subtly implying, happened just one time. I normally don’t associate with guttersnipe trailer trash, who make homemade wine in their cracked toilet but…” [/color]

Knog briefly stops drinking and lets out a sigh. “It would be easy to chalk your disgust up to your deeply ingrained narcissism, but in this case, it is because you are a bat. In this ceaseless war of birds and beasts, you are a bat straddling both sides. Plain and simple. If the metaphorical pendulum of power were swinging towards supernatural beings, you would be more than happy to associate and keep company with them. Since it is not, you surround yourself with humans and pretend to be part of their ranks. But, you sir are an imposter. The only reason I am accompanying you to our destination is that you are reviled by the birds and they would not openly let you into their nest without a reference. Sorry…my liege…Gorgon Wine has the tendency of making one rather aware of their current paradigm.”

Kav frowns pensively, as Knog continues to pour the potent liquid down his gullet. “Thanks for the bit of philosophy my dear friend. However, if you expect me just to sit here while you hurl your hurtful barbs against my personage uncontested, you are sadly mistaken You're a parasite sir. A leech and a lush. You are merely a shell of your former self as all your tightly held morals have fallen to the wayside given way to hedonistic pursuits. A modern-day Falstaff, spreading his inane drivel to any ear that will listen. Fret not as even washed-up relics such as yourself can still secure a place in my good graces.”

Kav snatches the bottle of wine out of Knog’s grubby hands. “Now old man how about you fill me in on whom exactly we might encounter at this ugh… ‘Saints And Sinners’. Do tell, which of our lovely kinfolk frequents such a quaint little establishment at this time of day. Please do not spare any detail as I just loathe surprises. ”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Vanja was unsurprised that his inquisitors for the foreseeable future ended up being the man with unnatural allure and the mountain of flesh that took the form of a woman; having your two seemingly most level headed members take point in a matter such as this made the most logical sense as the other more emotionally volatile members of this gathering would be more apt to kill him before extracting any usable information. Vanja sticking with his strategy of compliance until an alternative opportunity presented itself, he opened his eyes when prompted to by Simon. He was treated to a different sensation than before; the proverbial iron hand was no longer wrapped in velvet. There was something foreboding contained deep within those eyes; something that the more primitive components of Vanja’s brain were deathly afraid of it—he suddenly was overcome with the urge to flee, he desperately wanted to be anywhere else but in the room with this creature. Despite recognizing on some level that Simon was employing a variation on some of the same techniques he himself used Vanja felt himself teetering on the edge of despair and capitulation, but an unexpected second wind brought him back to his senses for the time being. For some reason he felt like he was closer to Her than he has been decades, he could not give up just yet right when he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He could not accept that he was just letting himself be bested by this rag-tag group of freaks.

Vanja winced as he abruptly felt his index finger push back against the natural bend of its joints, it was an extremely painful experience one that he was usually on the other end of; since he was not a masochist it was not a particularly enjoyable experience. His eyes carefully darted around the room taking in his surroundings. This quick glance told him that his options were at this point really limited to two options, he could either cry out in pain or remain silent; the classic non-choice as whatever option he chose would just ensure more torture. This exercise was solely to make him react, gauge his compliance and resilience. He mentally combed the reaches of his mind searching for any possible way to prolong his survival, keep his captors preoccupied until…until…a deadline was crossed, a deadline that was fast approaching. The longer he was remained radio silent by not calling series of numbers and saying a series of predetermined phrases, the better opportunity his “allies” had of noticing his absence and checking into the last location his throw-away cell phone pinged from; Vanja’s was bemused that his reputation of being punctual and a stickler for these sorts of things might end up just saving him after all.

He just had to focus on the facts and all would be clear. What did he know about the two individuals in the enclosed space with him, this Simon character was enigma who was apparently trained in the art of torture and the behemoth…well, the goliath had some connection with the brat…the brat from earlier. While, not being able to divert his focus from Simon without expending a great deal of energy, Vanja was still able to address whomever he desired for the time being and he slung his words at Chasa.

“So, what is the deal with you and the whelp, beast. Your offspring? No. Your lover perhaps? No, that is not it. Is he your master? Are you a slave, a thrall perhaps? Do not tell me you are a servant that has deluded herself in thinking that her master truly cares about her. Do you not consider yourself in bondage because it is apparent to everyone else? If I am to assume what the brat demonstrated in the alley was a fraction of his power, then you are just a pawn to him. A tool he will discard once the world breaks you. Think back over the circumstances of your existence since coming across that ill-mannered twerp, right now do you have free well or just the conditioned illusion of free will? Also, food for thought your too late to save him. Admit to yourself he cannot be saved from the rot that has taken hold of him and brace yourself for the inevitable.”

Bonnie had somehow migrated herself across the area towards the pond, still entranced by the magic of this cavern. She didn't even think to question how they got there, how any of this could exist. She just choked it up to being 'magical bullshit' and went on her way.

Just as Darnies approaches her and Neirie, the young vampire was inspecting a very colorful looking frog. She knew enough not to touch it, of course, but that didn't stop her from poking it with a blade of grass. Her head spun around at just the sound of the word smoke, face lighting up and in an instant, she was standing in front of Darnies.

"Duuude FUCK yes. I haven't had jack shit since, well, this whole vampire thing's been keepin' me from gettin any cash money yanno. Weed's expensive n'shit." Bonnie commented, rubbing her hands together. She had no recollection of the conversation much less interaction Darnies had just had with the others, and Bo wasn't exactly the best at noticing social cues either. Though it came off more as down to earth than ignorant, she just didn't like to pester people to talk to her. She knew they'd come to her when they were ready, and they almost always did. Bo was always the therapy friend, or at least the hype woman. After all those times hyping up her friends at those school parties, she should get a job as a life coach or something.

Regardless, Bo was ready for this blood weed. Whatever that meant, anyways. "Oh yeah, how the hell are ya gettin' like, blood into this shit? Does it make it taste better? Or - or, shit does it like make you MORE high? That would be so rad. Though this place would be a good spot for some shrooms, to be honest bro." The vampire rambled, glancing around the colorful cavern, moving some of her dirty blonde hair out of her face.

Chasa listened to Simon with sort of detached interest, mulling over his words and solidifying her and Darnies's thought of him being a Fae of the Hunt. She kept her arms crossed at her chest and leaned against the mossy cavern wall as the Fae finally began his actions. The snap was louder than expected, but she tilted her head at the Hunter's minute response. Then, his attention found it's way to her. His words were cold and barbed, they aimed for the weakest of points and attempted to sink their hooks into you, pull you out and leave you unraveled before him. The only problem was she was the last one they would work on.

When he finished, she laughed. It was oddly blank, just as her face had become. She leaned into the element she was made of and took comfort in the lack of emotion.

"Dear Hunter," She began, staring directly into his eyes over Simon's shoulder as she knelt down, her stance still wide and perfectly balanced. "You seem to be under the assumption that some Creatures don't exist purely to serve." It was said with the tone of a teacher that had to give a student a hard lesson about life. "A shield benefits from its owner; in return for getting dented and dirty in way of protecting, the shield is then hammered back into shape and polished. It does not weather in nature, as the owner keeps it by his side in shelter. It keeps place at one's side in court and in battle, and it serves its purpose until it no longer can," She tilted her head and shrugs. "at which point it is melted back down and reforged, or it finds its final resting place in the ground with its master. Regardless, a much better life than a hunk of ore that didn't know purpose or life, weathered to sediment and swept away by the current, don't you think?"

---

"Wow," Darnies said, looking at Bo with sad eyes. "You don't even know that normal weed can't get you high anymore, that's sad." He nodded to Vie and she disappeared into the Garden, heading for a small shed-like building on the other side of the pond. He looked at his red raw arms and realized he had begun bleeding again and groaned dramatically. He snatched up a branch of flowers from a shrub whose petals began reddish purple at the base but bled yellow as it reached the tips. He slipped his arms directly into the shallow pond, pressing the flowers against the cuts under the water. He couldn't heal himself, that was always a gift meant for use on others, but that didn't mean he didn't know medicinal properties both scientific and magical. It may be said that Witch Hazel was named with the middle english word wych, but that's just because the Mundane world needed to rationalize everything, it came from his people and the Supernatural world knew it.

The blood stopped flowing and the redness died down, making him look more like a sunburn victim that got a ton of paper cuts than someone that stood in the middle of a glass and fire tornado. He counted it as a plus. He let the branch drop to the bottom of the pond and pulled his arms out must as Vie returned with a tray, two blunts rolled with a dark red filling, and two that were almost unnaturally green inside. She handed the red-filled ones to the vampires and set the tray to her left as she sat down next to Darnies and they each picked up one of the green ones.

"You didn't have to roll them for us, Vie." Darnies said, though his smile was grateful.

"I looked out the window and you were shoulder deep in pond water, Little Earth, it only made sense." She assured, smiling back.

"Thanks," He replied as he lit up. "Anyway, Baby Bite, I use a mix of blood and potion instead of water every other watering period, and then Vie continues to imbue it with leftover bottles of my magic when I can't be here." He blows out a cloud of smoke and turns his head to Neirie.

"Hey, not tryina push you or anything, but..." He laid back in the soft moss. "my wards...they, well let's just say they alerted me in a way they don't often do. Is there like," He waved a hand vaguely. "a specific task you came to Gravette for or something?"

Simon was gracious enough to let Chasa respond to the Hunter without breaking any more of his bones. I like her words, some part of his mind thought, and another one wondered why it did. Some her words flashed through his head - exist purely to serve - and along them came a memory of the King. He grimaced for a split second, then scattered the memory before it distracted him more.

For a second, the man had been afraid. His mind was strong, though - he controlled himself well and took the pain quietly. While Chasa spoke, Simon retrieved another tool - a relatively plain metal baton with small spikes, not sharp or large enough to easily pierce but enough to be distinctly uncomfortable on impact. It was a simple weapon, mostly for good old-fashioned beatings, and had clearly been used for such before.

When Chasa finished, Simon didn't say anything. He waited a second, then two, then brought the baton down on the hunter's ribs. Once, twice, thrice. He made sure not to be too rough - he was stronger than most humans and he didn't want to unduly damage the organs - but enough to break one or two ribs.

He inspected the baton. It had a good weight to it. He took a deep breath - he might''ve still been a little too enthusiastic about that last hit. "You like your words, sir. You have many of them, and you speak them well, I'll admit." He set the baton on the ground next to him. "Clubs and batons are all good, but I was more of a knife man myself." He picked up the scalpel again. "I never had medical training to any degree, you know, but I like to think I know my way around the human anatomy a bit. When I was younger, I had many opportunities to... study the innards of men. Sometimes, I wonder if old memories of what things looked like would be enough to help me remove an organ with acceptable precision. I have a steady hand - surely more than a human - and a good memory, but that's really all." His smile was almost friendly, even in the context. He leaned closer to the hunter again. "Tell me your real name. If you do, I'll give you, say, a couple of minutes to think before my next question. I think you'd like that."

Kav and Knog made their way down the sidewalk, Knog was clearly inebriated and was attempting to cling to the younger man for support. Though Kav was clearly having none of it and continued to push his drunken companion off.

“So, tell me again, why did you have your driver park a so far away from our actual destination…y-your Dukeness? I might have just remembered I am in no state to walk… or is it gallop…or perhaps it is prance? On account of the hooves I am always at a loss on what to call the act of forward motion… I deduce that one of us might have drunken too much Gorgon Wine on the drive over. Hint, it was…probably…me? You know that reminds me…” Knog preceded to trail off on an unrelated tangent that became more indecipherable the longer it went on for.

Kav rubbed his temples in annoyance, he just did not have the patience to justify his decision to the old goat for a third time. In hindsight he probably should have not let the Satyr cap that bottle of Gorgon Wine, but it was not his place to police other’s vices and he had a feeling that his acquaintance was not as drunk as he was acting at the moment. Knog was a habitual line-stepper by nature and was always found of pushing other’s proverbial buttons for his own amusement; Knog always seemed to miraculously sober-up should the situation require it no matter how much liquor he was seen consuming prior.

Kav was snapped from his current train of thought as he suddenly had the weirdest feeling that they were being observed; however, each time he looked behind him there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. After a few minutes of nothing he finally caught a glimpse of an unusual character to say the least. As he was preoccupied with attempting to catch a glimpse of their mystery stalker, Knog managed to collide with an older gentleman of rather large proportions who suddenly emerged from an alleyway. Kav shot an annoyed glance at Knog who seemed to have knocked himself out cold before offering a hand to the downed man. The older man seemed non-perturbed by the collision and graciously accepted Kav’s help getting back to his feet; the large man let out a rather hearty laugh at the mishap as he attempted to wipe spilled coffee off his rather tacky sweater and bushy grey beard before grabbing a tattered brown flat cap off the ground. Kav thought the oaf should have left it there with the other pieces of refuse that littered the ground.

“My wife is always chiding me about my clumsy behavior is bound to hurt someone and it seems like I finally plum did it this time. I hope your friend is going to be okay their sonny.” The man said as he let out a sheepish chuckle.

“I would not exactly call us friends, but I suppose I owe you some gratitude for relieving me of this nuisance for the time being. This city certainly attracts a certain breed of people.” Kav says as he crosses his arms.

“You don’t say partner. Well, my name is Jim Hughes and it is certainly a pleasure to run into someone with a head on their shoulders around these parts” The rosy cheeked man extends his large hand and Kav reluctantly shakes it, his need for flattery outweighing any weird vibes this large man was emanating; though something definitely felt off about the name he provided.

“Charming. You can call me Kav, no doubt you heard of me?” Kav, says clearly using his supernatural looks to fish for more compliments from this yokel.

“No…wait aren’t you famous on the interwebs? Right my grandchildren watch you on the Facetube. Only really famous people can afford to have one name. Like Prince and yourself of course. I would hate to ask for a slight favor from a bonified celebrity, but me and my friends being tourists here are scouting for local hotspots. One of my friends last in pinged in this general vicinity but hasn’t checked in with the rest of the group in a good minute and I was wondering if one as well-connected as yourself knew of any places in this area where one might slink away to. Wink Wink.”

Kav was barely paying attention to the old man outside of the interspersed compliments as he inspected his nails for any potential damage.
“You know what, I might know of a place. My…the guy whom you seemed to have knocked unconscious recommended some dive bar around here. I usually do not do this Jimbo, but I suppose escorting one as fashionably challenged as yourself to their probably equally unfashionable friend would count as my good deed of the year.”

“I really do appreciate it that you would stoop so low to help one as undeserving as me. However, what about your uh…nuisance?”

Kav once again glares at Knog and simply shrugged in indifference. “Leave him, I doubt he is unaccustomed to waking up in close proximity to sketchy alleys after a bender. Speaking of which, one as clearly helpless as yourself should not make it a habit of traversing down alleyways alone lest you be murdered or something”

Jim lets out another hearty laugh that lasts for an uncomfortable amount of time as the duo depart down the sidewalk. Much to Kav’s annoyance the walk was to Saints and Sinners was not one taken in contemplative silence; the fat moron would not shut up about what great service he got at a local coffee shop earlier in the day. Jim just kept bring up how great his waitress was like he was trying to infer something more than a routine interaction happened between them like it was supposed to impress Kav or something; it was more pathetic than anything. He could not help, but to roll his eyes at multiple points during Jim’s recollection of prior events. He could not believe he traded Knog for this bumbling ingrate.

Eventually the duo made it to Saints and Sinners, but like the filthy tourist he claimed to be Jim was occupied taking photos of the outside of the bar and the alleyway with his flip phone and sending them to his “friends” or whatever. Kav decided to wait on the bloated geezer to enter the bar first as he did not want the rather drab man to cramp his unique sense of style, but Jim never entered the bar he instead received a text message and walked out of the alleyway without saying a word.

Kav entered the establishment more confused than when he initially set off on this journey.

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Despite forces beyond his control willing him to focus on other matters Vanja managed to mull over Chasa’s response. He was not surprised that she had some autonomy, but the degree of independence demonstrated piqued his interest; perhaps, she was not a mere thrall after all. “My My, It speaks through its own volition. I must say that I never believed myself to possess the power to cause mountains or their facsimiles to respond to my inquiries, but today has certainly been chalk full of surprises don’t you think. Thank you for indulging me with your impromptu morality lesson creature, learning the depths of your self-delusion been most enlightening to say the least. Allow me the privilege to retor…”

Vanja’s monologue was preemptively cut short by the forceful introduction of Simon’s barbed baton; sharp, splintering pains indicative of cracking ribs followed each successive blow. Vanja doubled over in anguish. It was a small miracle that none of the cracked ribs broke off and punctured his lungs or another vital organ, though at the moment the severity of the pain eclipsed any benefits of not succumbing to death; the severity of the spikes was somewhat negated by the fact that Vanja was still clad in his suit and accompanying layers, which at least provided some small modicum of protection though they were still painful. Unlike other broken bones the agony of cracked ribs is prolonged as the rib cage moves with every breath one takes, the very act of living…of holding only extended the torture further; Vanja normally enjoyed would have enjoyed the irony had it not been inflicted on himself. Once again everything seemed to boil down to a matter of perspective. He was acutely aware of the all too familiar sensation of aches and pains that coursed through his body at the moment. Everything seemed to hurt and it felt like a herculean task to even consider rising from his current position splayed out on the floor, but Vanja managed to muster his remaining energy to rise to his knees; he seemed to avoid succumbing to his building injuries out of purely out of spite at this point.

“From one professional craftsmen to another…breaking my ribs without killing me is a nice touch. Always good to show utter contempt for your victim,” Vanja manages to wheeze before listening to Simon’s proposition. Vanja wills himself to coherently respond without too much coughing.

“Tsk Tsk. And here I thought that you could read my mind, yet though you have seen through my guise it appears that my true name eludes you. Seems like we are playing Quid Pro Quo yet again. I for one thought that ‘Josip Dragnov’ was a name that complimented my appearance for once. I have a whole laundry list of nom de guerre that are stamped on a plethora of passports ‘Boris Bukhalov’, ‘Lavrentiy Malenkov’, ‘Maximilian Tinchev’, and so on; like with my suits I find it refreshing to change my identity frequently. But, I will hazard to guess that none of those manufactured identities do it for you. No, much like Her I posit that you can innately tell when someone is being deceptive. That particular specter from my past continues to dog me even now.”

Vanja feels a well of emotions surge up inside himself and he repeatedly punches the ground in anger.

“Damnit, t-this can’t be my only option. Urgh. T-this can’t be. I-I have been made a fool of by these utter…-and I frankly refuse to believe that this is the way to ach…All those years… were for what? This cannot be h-happening.” He growls in a moment of frustration before composing himself.

“Fine, despite every fiber of my being and my years of experience in the field telling me not to, I will concede to your demand creature. Like I did once many years ago I will willingly give one dominion over my true name. I am Vanja Janković, son of Gersim Janković a humble matchstick maker from the village of Dolac.”

Akseli and Aharon exchanged wary glances over the top of the Seraphim's newest book before both pairs of eyes turned back to the large broken window. With Darnies' wards in tact and him away, it seemed the older man just outside the window did not notice them watching as he took snapshots of their bar. Luckily, once the man left the alley he wouldn't be able to find his way back for a while; it gave them time to shore up for whatever the fuck that unnerving moment was sure to lead to.

As the door opened their attention turn to the cat that had dragged trouble in. The man was disturbingly attractive, and definitely too dressed up to be in Saints and Sinners as a regular. Akseli slid his hand into his ratty vest pocket, forgoing the silver knuckles in there for the thinner iron ones. Pretty boys like that usually came from one breed around here.

"What the fuck did you just bring so close to us, Fae?" Akseli hissed, a mild rage building in his eyes.
-
Detective Autry Thompson has had better days. Hell, he's had better months. Certainly, even yesterday was better because at least he had one less body to deal with and apparently someone was pissing off their serial killer. The victim looked to have been drained of their blood via two tubes to the neck, which were left embedded even after the killer tossed out the body. Stabbed into the women's chest and holding to it a note was a large silver spike. The note itself read 'Someone else is hunting my prey in jagged, angry letters.

Detective Thompson had had better years.
-
Chasa rolled her eyes at the old man, allowing an excited grin to bleed out for a moment when Simon's baton met the man's chest. She was not ashamed that she had a violent side, though she had it rather contained by her overall caring nature. This small bit of bloodlust only ever came out around those who dared to try and hurt her charge, her creator. She figured with all her restraint she was due her fair amount of twisted pleasures.

She raised an eyebrow at the Vanja's sudden yielding, practically seeing the power of his name wash over and get absorbed by the Fae before her. It was very much like when Darnies had first willingly given her his full name. He only gave the name to Simon, of course, but she was well enough in her magic to tell exactly when the bond, or whatever Fae call it, settled between the two.

"All that strong talk and deluded belief that you knew us at a glance and you give over so quickly," she mused, her smile all teeth and hunger. "And to hear you have given your name before, well, today has sure become interesting."
-
Outside the waterfall, down by the pond, Darnies waved a lazy goodbye to Neirie, who had cocked her head as if feeling something and declared she had to leave for a bit. By the pout on her face, she was no happier to be leaving than he was to see her go.

Seconds after her disappearance, warmth hummed along his arms as someone stepped through the wards of Saints and Sinners, someone of Fae descent entering the bar. No ill will nor good will from this one, they seemed rather ambivilant about the bar. It was enough to get his body moving, wanting to shake off the tingling magic. He put out his blunt and pushed to his feet.

"I'm gonna check in the torture-interrogation-whatever, feel free to come with," he said to Bonnie. "Vie, as always, it was a lovely smoke session." The Nymph smiled and laid back, stretching out on the grass with her feet in the water.

"Likewise, Little Earth."

He passed under the waterfall just in time to here Vanja's true name and Chasa's comment to him, and he pushed over to her with a grin, seeing the fire in her eyes. "Ooh, I know that predatory gleam," he spoke up, grinning up at her. "What, did he try to mess with your head? Did ya tell him what happened to the head of the last Hunter that did that?" The same grin has slipped onto his face, animalistic in the amount of teeth showing, sharper than a knife and more mocking than a funhouse mirror. "I wonder if that guy's buddies ever found it or if they just burned the torso down."