All other angels are dead,
But I shall not go.
For one yet walks,
With the wings of a crow.

"What differentiates us from the flock of lambs?" A sermonic voice echoed through what appeared to be an abandoned cathedral, sundering the senses of the followers who gathered wearing drapes and hoods, a cultic summoning.

"Preacher; we are giants living among mice, so how long must we cover like the latter?" One of the subjects rose, revealing a face that had been marred. "If we are indeed the true kings that are to purge this world of the tyrant that subjugates us, then why do we suffer?"

"My child, we suffer so as to wait. We suffer so as to thrive and we suffer so as to grow." The preacher, draped in white, spoke suppressing all defiance and coyly channeling it into a frenzy directed towards the organization of sin. "What we possess is not a curse, it is our right. It is not to be feared but embraced, for the art is not acquired by any but the Kings that will plummet this era of decay." As he counseled, his gaze slowly moved to face all his brethren who awaited their instructions with bated breath.

"What differentiates us from the flock of lambs is that we are wolves that have been starving for far too long. In a week we will lunge our teeth in the flesh of the ignorant humans and the A.M.R.O lapdogs that have hounded us."

A resounding cheer filled the cathedral, resurrecting it from an abandoned place of worship into a shelter of hope, souls crying for a change from the pain they had grown oh so accustomed too. But like any cheer it too eventually turns into silence and that befell far too quickly than any would have wished.

Clapping eventually brought this gathering to an inaudible halt. Everyone found themselves facing the exit through which this taunting sound slowly drew nearer and nearer, that is until the silhouette of a man in red became vaguely visible.

“Brother, are you a friend seeking salvation or a foe seeking retribution?” The preacher questioned, offering his hand as an invitation while the followers armed themselves if this boon should be declined.

“Neither, I am but a reminder of your final fleeting moments. Worms don’t deserve to crawl above the ground and yet here you are in all your audacity, boasting to be kings when your place is buried beneath the sole of my boot.” The figure replied, his arrogance almost painfully casual with a smirk that dared to provoke.

“What insolence! You dare to come into our abode and speak down to kings, remember your place boy….or better yet we shall teach it to you.” The Preacher scoffed as his arms rose upon high, as if to shatter the heavens and rein down judgment, and accordingly chains lunged forward from the gargoyle’s mouths that were mounted upon pillars all around the cathedral.

The crimson heathen had suddenly found himself bound, ensnared by countless chains that kept him at bay while the council of these ragged kings contemplated on how to approach this situation. Several members chanted along a serenade of death, demanding blood, where as others sought answers.

“Why have you come here at such an opportune time? Who are you exactly and who do you work for?” One of the members spoke up, his tone intimidating yet this attempt at interrogation seemed to fall upon deaf year as the prisoner merely continued to stare and smile a wicked smile.

“I go by many names, some rather famous….some forgotten, but if you are all kings then you may address me as the king’s misfortune.” The convict replied, his tone even under such situations retaining its casual almost sarcastic demeanor.

“You who are but flesh dare to walk onto a field of lions, daft fool! Do you really think you can bury us all and that too all by yourself? If we do get buried it won’t be in the ground child….it will be under your bones.” The Preacher retaliated, his furious reply a direct challenge to the man in red whom he had dismissed as a fool seeking an early demise.

“There are just two little problems with your statement, number one a fratello does not come alone,” The prisoner jeered, his satirical expressions now unnerving this gathering of mice whose courage only continued to dwindle as they began to finally comprehend the symphony that had started, a rhapsody of their own demise and the first verse had been sung.

“All other Angel’s are dead,” and as she spoke these words, the words took form. They thickened the air and the air obeyed.

“But I shall not go,” the windows shuttered, the ceiling creaked.

“For one yet walks,” bones felt heavy until every disciple and their preacher, these so called kings, fell to their knees.

“With the wings of a crow,” an uncanny pressure weighed on their shoulders, slowly continuing to crush them. Immobilized, with eyes gaping wide from the pain of the invisible force that pressed against them all the while yet another silhouette appeared. This time of a child, who innocently sat on top of a window frame, her legs swaying playfully as she observed the carnage from on high.

“Mistake number two,” the bound prisoner resumed with a smirk that slowly widened. “I am not mere flesh,” as soon as these words were spoken the gargoyles that were perched on top of the pillars, crashed to the ground, shattering. “For my bones are steel and steel is my serpent.” The chains that once shackled him now leisurely coiled around him, slithering across his body and gradually approaching all the pretenders, wrapping around their necks.

“A king….can one….exist…..Angel?” The child spoke with stoic expressions and a mechanical tone. Her eyes fixated on the ceiling, as if appreciating a well painted mural, revealing the number –VI- tattooed on the side of her neck.

“Well Rin, if there still is an Angel left in a world like this….we may yet find a king.” Her partner replied pleasantly as his veiled eyes mimicked her partner in looking on top where the corpses of all the followers and the priest were noosed by their own silver chains.

------------------Xx--------------------xX---------------
Three Months Later
Las Vegas
------------------Xx--------------------xX---------------

“Big brother, roll again, roll again!” Rena chirped loudly as she closely observed her partner blowing on a pair of dice with a large pile of chips decked on the center table. Bass echoed through the halls of the casino as several girls had already gathered around the crimson devil known simply as Angel.

“Call the number sir?” The dealer nudged the Asylum, impatient for his decision on a gamble that appeared to be fairly impressive, well impressive enough to have the Casino on their toes.

“I call thirteen,” Angel replied, his tone rather amused at the irony of it all. Such a gambit requires all the luck in the world and the Crimson Asylum picked the most misfortunate one, ah but such was the dramatic flair which this Alchemist possessed.

“What…are…you…doing, this goes against….protocol?” Angel’s partner suddenly interrupted, tugging on his coat with considerable strength, enough to pull him away.

“Hey there Rin…nice to see you awake, splendid timing….you were just in time to stop me from having a little fun….what a tragedy that would be…yes indeed.” Angel retorted rather sarcastically, though his humorous attempts failing to impress the Poker Faced Chrono.

“Protocol 101….maintain a low profile, we are not here to indulge in…..pointless activities. Our reliable sources have said The Circus will be making an appearance. We are to……. patiently……await instructions and proceed…..accordingly.” The Chrono calmly reiterated their mission statement while dragging her partner out of the building, who despite his attempts to free himself found it hopeless. With a few crocodile tears he bid his earnings and the ladies a fond farewell. “So long money….hello work….”

“You know we have been scouting Las Vegas for the past month, nothing has happened except me winning a lot of money and being dragged out before collecting it.” Angel complained, heaving a weary sigh while rubbing his temples from feeling the sorrow of his empty wallet.

“In case you have…forgotten. Circue du folie is one of the few factions that can actually pose a threat to A.M.R.O.”

“We just took down that cult in that cathedral, what faction was that? ‘Douchey Kings’? We deserve a break. There is no guarantee that these circus clowns will even show up in Vegas. There is also the fact that while most factions oppose A.M.R.O, aren’t these circus people just in it to give Alchemists a safe haven? They don’t care about war or power.”

“You…know as well as I do……a team was lost…..when they were sent to observe The Circus, for A.M.R.O this is enough of a probable cause for an investigation.”

“And you know as well as I do, Cirque du folie has managed to evade A.M.R.O for years. A myth has grown, a place called ‘The Carnival’ that is the head quarters of these clowns. Rather cliché but point is, it is shielded from A.M.R.O’s radar. Why would they just up and leave? It doesn’t make sense. Here they are coming out in the open, risking exposure. Are you sure our information is valid?”

“It’s foolish to question our information, it is never wrong. As to…..why…..I suppose we will find out. Additional teams have been authorized by the director.”

“What Mason is getting involved in this?”

“He believes it is of….significant…importance. The fact….that they are sending in more teams….it means….the circus is expected…..rather so..--”

“Go to hell Asylums!”

“Really?” Angel thought out loud, as he held a knife that had been thrown from a distance. Managing to grab it by the hilt just in the nick of time, before it could hit his partner and incur her wrath. However the fact she was interrupted, well the deed had been done.

“You shouldn't have done that…….my partner believes a true gentleman never interrupts a lady.” Angel continued his tone rather mournful for the unfortunate fellow who had thrown that dagger. “A pity really, you rogue alchemists need birth control cause your numbers are spurring out of control.” He mused as the Chrono slowly raised her doll like face towards the direction in which the rogue was fleeing after which she merely redirected her gaze to her partner, shrugging this minor nuisance out of the way.

“Well this is surprising….why isn’t that guy inside out?” Angel inquired, quite curious at this strange spectacle.

“I am back!” The Chrono tweeted rather cutely with a face brimming with life, quite the stark contrast to Rin’s placid and evergreen expressions. “Oh, oh, oh big brother looks like we have more friends that have finally come to play!” She continued, her excitement managing to uplift even the lazy asylum.

“Wonderful observations my little partner,” Angel acknowledged his partner’s deduction, rewarding her with a gentle pat on the head. “Looks like more teams have finally joined the fray….this should be amusing.”

Asylums had always been a tricky business. They were unpredictable, powerful and had the potential to be incredibly dangerous if they had been trained in their art well. It was considered a dark art after all, utilising the many powers of alchemy, betraying the very laws of reality to bring new forces into being. By all rights, alchemy simply shouldn’t exist. Clearly someone, or something, desperately wanted such magical power to plague the mortal plane for as long as it could. Whether that was to help or hinder none could be sure. Alistair often wondered how that being must’ve felt about how the world treated this gift that it had granted him. This curse that followed him everywhere he went. The only thing that he could be sure of was that whatever its motives, Alistair’s act of dropping a marble down his sleeve only for it to fly straight out of the other was not going to impress it. That was not enough to convince him to stop, however.

‘I really hate this dress!’ yelled a voice.

Alistair had almost forgotten about his lovely companion, caught up in the childish whimsy of his own speculation. He sat on an arm chair, thick brown leather that creaked slightly as he leaned back into it, with one leg crossed over the other and a cane firmly gripped by his right hand. He faced a door, raising an eyebrow as he took note of the sounds of movement that came from the other side. Whether “movement” was an adequate description or not was another query for Alistair as it sounded more like an angry bull in a china shop. Curses flew out from the other room and every other second Alistair could hear something fall to the floor with a great thud. Yes, movement was far too subtle.

‘And why does it have to be black?’ the voice complained again. ‘Black is such a dull colour.’

‘Your hair is black, love.’

‘Don’t you dare bring up my hair or I’ll tear out all of yours.’

‘But black looks so fetching on you, miss Hyson,’ replied Alistair. ‘It also happens to be the only dress you own that hasn’t been torn to pieces so we haven’t much choice as far as colour is concerned.’

Vail Hyson cussed again. ‘I’m not even sure this thing fits properly. Are you sure my leg is supposed to go in this bit? I don’t think I’ve ever worn one of these things befo-” there was a quiet yelp of pain before the grunts of irritation continued. ‘I think it bit me.’

As he had done many times before when talking to Vail, Alistair rolled his eyes. She was a pleasant enough girl to be around, surprisingly intelligent when she put her mind to it, but as was often the case her childish heart got the better of her. Vail was not comfortable when she did not get her own way but thankfully she had grown to respect Alistair enough to put up with his suggestions and gentle persuasions. She was raw potential, needing only a gentle nudge in the right direction to bring out the best in her. Alistair was happy knowing that that he was that nudge.

Gripping the head of his umbrella for support he pushed himself upwards and stood. Spending but a moment to brush his blond fringe out of his eyes, Alistair made his way towards the door with his usual, slightly exaggerated walk. He knocked twice, although getting no response from his fellow asylum he tried again. He knocked a third time and then attempted a fourth, although the door was pulled open by Vail before he had the opportunity. As per usual she was a sight to behold. Unusually though, this time he could say that as a compliment. Her hair was messy as Alistair had expected, streaks of hot pink and jet black sticking out at all angles, and her eyes were wild like a mad woman. Much to his surprise though she had in fact managed to slip on the dress, a little black number clearly designed to show off her every attractive feature. Vail was not the most delicate of human beings but it still suited her surprisingly well. She looked a completely different woman.

‘You look splendid,’ said Alistair, a wine grin across his face. ‘A million dollars, as they say.’

‘Are you sure I can’t just wear a decent looking jacket? I look like one of those cheap girls who spends all night on some old man’s arm in the vain hope that he’ll buy them something worth four times what they make in a year.’

‘Then, my dear pet, you fit the part perfectly for that is the impression we are trying to make!’

‘Har har’.

If anyone else had tried to get her to wear this ridiculously tight dress then Vail would’ve been fighting the urge to force them into it regardless of how many of their limbs she would have to break. Unfortunately, as fun as that seemed, Alistair was her closest friend and the man that she respected most. Alistair had, through thick and thin, proven himself to be right each and every time they had gotten into an argument. They were in Las Vegas after all; it was the epicentre of gambling and partying in the US, likely filled to the brim with people who were quite genuinely like the roles they would be trying to fill. With some luck (and a cocktail if she could down one without Alistair noticing) the Broken Pendulum would be like a shadow through the streets of Vegas.

‘If we’re acting out roles then why haven’t you put on your costume then, huh?’

Alistair scoffed, mocking a bow and his grin growing a few inches wider. ‘My dear, I thought you would have realised this by now. I’m always dressed for the occasion!’

As much as she tried, Vail could simply not find a fault in his sentence. With a dapper pink suit, matching umbrella and well combed hair he certainly looked the part of an eccentric millionaire prepared for a night out on the town. He always looked like that, a complete contrast to the rugged and practical Vail. Now, for once, Vail would have the opportunity to add to the façade. An interesting proposal indeed.

‘Just help me think up a way to hide Henry and Eddie. They don’t fit in this bloody handbag,’ replied Vail, giving in. She led him into her room, part of their hotel suite, which now looked like a bomb had exploded in it. Pictures had smashed, furniture was cracked and clothes had been tossed about, one shirt now hanging out of the window.

Alistair sighed.

The pairing would later be sighting walking down the streets of Las Vegas with wide smiles and funny walks, taking in the sights and the sounds of the big city like a pair of love-struck tourists. Their arms were linked, like a couple might do, and while they both acted excitable and a little tipsy neither of them had drunk a single drop of alcohol that evening. Alistair walked along with great presence and Vail clung to his arm as she was supposed to, both with eyes peeled and a great focus on each individual they passed. Tonight would be a fun evening, Vail thought, whether their lead would prove fruitful or not.

As they passed a club, loud music blaring from the inside, Vail spun on her stiletto heels and dragged Alistair along with her. He struggled, confused as he was engulfed in bright lights and surrounded by other party goers.

‘I don’t care how important this is supposed to be. I get at least one drink and I’m making sure you get one too,’ cheered Vail as they headed further inside the building.

Alistair thought it best, for both his sanity and his health, not to protest.

It was sunny on the day they got the call. Not a single could floated loftily in the sky and the rays of light bathed the English countryside. More perfect whether could not have been imagined for Fletcher to work on his car. It was a nice car, rather expensive too. Too bad there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Yet for hours Fletcher stood in the driveway that sloped gently to the road clearly intent on fixing his car. The gentle slope of the driveway contrasted well with the steep grade of the road itself as it fled from the lone house on the hill. Their house was the only visible thing for miles and Fletcher hated it.

Isaiah looked up from the book he was consuming in his chair by the fireplace and smiled grimly at his view out the window. Fletcher was mumbling to himself, vicious profanity no doubt, and engaging in his weekly "fixing." Isaiah knew a thing or two about cars and there was nothing wrong with Fletcher's red Alfa Romeo 4C. Isaiah knew his partner was clinically insane and this was, fortunately, his only main delusion. There were so many other things to worry about regarding Fletcher that this quirk seemed harmless.

When the phone rang neither one of them was expecting it. Fletcher, absorbed in his work, didn't hear it until the fourth ring but Isaiah had the phone in hand before the first ring was done. He stared at the number. He didn't recognize it but that wasn't surprising: nobody kept track of numbers these day. Then four letters flashed on the phone's small screen. He answered the phone.

At this point Fletcher had entered the house and was wringing his hands to wipe away imaginary grime,

"Who's calling? I thought nobody had this number."

"Well I didn't recognize the number," Isaiah clicked the phone off,

"Fuck it all, nobody ever gets to come play!"

"But," Isaiah knew what was coming and wracked his brain on how to deliver the news safely, "I answered it and it was them. They have a job for us,"

"Really?" A grin crept across Fletcher's face, "Well where are we going Mac? Who are we working with? Who's the target? How long will we be gone for? What should I wear?!" At this point Fletcher was practically vibrating, "You know, never mind. I want it to be a surprise,"

With that, the conversation was over and Fletcher was off to begin what he called packing. Isaiah strolled to his room, glad that nothing had been broken. He retrieved a number of identical suits from his closet and carefully placed them in his portable suit bag. He opened a suitcase and placed inside a week-and-a-half's worth of shirts, ties, underwear, and socks. He would wear his shoes. Each item was carefully folded and methodically placed. As usual, everything fit snugly and the zipper zipped without a hitch.

In his room, Fletcher was rabidly throwing clothes into his backpack. It was a nice thing. A single shoulder strap would run across his torso and hold his folding blades. Thick nylon protected the contents of the pack. Isaiah had gotten it for him last year. In it was a series of long-sleeve T-shirts, jeans, underwear, and mismatched socks. There were clearly not enough clothes for an extended stay but Isaiah wasn't nearby to gently point it out. On top of the clothes Fletcher gently placed a few bags of gummy bears.

From on top of his dresser he retrieved some small plastic bags full of a fine white powder. All but one of them he tossed in the suitcase. He clipped the both of his folding blades to the backpack strap. Immediately after he unhooked the first one and dotted out a thin line of the white powder on its blade. He eyes the white stripe for a few seconds before violently snorting it up one nostril. The bag was tossed in the backpack and the blade almost folding up with Fletcher spasmed once, twice, and then a third time.

Wild eyes darted around in his skull but he moved calmly and with purpose. He placed picked up the blade from the floor, folding it up and clipping it to his pack. Slinging the bag over his shoulder he walked to the front door and sat down, looking longingly out the window.

"Fletcher, the helicopter won't be here for another two hours,"

But the call fell on deaf ears.

Las Vegas. They call it the city that never sleeps. Or was that New York? Luther couldn't be bothered to remember, so many cities that had so many night references it was a bother to remember them all. He just knew that the city was more alive during the night than it was during the day, ironically since that's when people should be taking advantage of the most wonderful gift of all. Sleeping. Which was exactly what he was doing. While on the outside, the bustle of the city, the cheers, the gambling, drinking, and all the craziness passed him by without so much as a glance. And he didn't mind. In fact he preferred it that way. Kept him from having to wake up.

He was in a hotel room with his partner who was getting dressed for a 'night out', whatever the hell that meant. The room itself was quite large, with a queen sized bed in the centre and a small TV in front of it to add some sort of entertainment. There were several cupboards next the TV where travellers could fold their clothes into, a mini fridge to the side with several cans of beer, some snacks, and a bottle of champagne.

"Luther, get up," Jessica said while she stood in front of a mirror putting on a pair of earrings. "We didn't come all the way over here just so you could sleep. You could have done that well enough at home." Why she even bothered with him in the first place was a wonder. All the guy ever did was sleep or go crazy when they were in a fight. She thought herself unfortunate for coming across such a person, but she got used to it. He was like a child, and often needed to pushed and nudged in the right direction, but quite like a child he didn't follow or just out right refused to be guided towards the good old trodden path.

She turned to look at him, an annoyed expression on her face as she was expecting to see him still sleeping, but instead was met with the surprise of seeing him up and stretching with a massive yawn coming from his mouth. "Why are you up?" She asked cautiously, looking around. It wasn't like Luther at all to get up on her first command. In fact it wasn't like Luther to get up at all unless something was wrong or he just really needed to. A bad feeling began to creep up on her, while in the back of her mind a voice told her she was completely overreacting, and she probably was, but it was better to be safe than sorry, she thought as she gripped her katanas.

"I can't sleep," Luther responded after a while of looking around the room, wondering just how he had got there. He couldn't remember a thing from the previous night, mostly due to his sleeping, but he never expected to end up in a suite like this. It was pretty fancy looking by his standards. I wouldn't be surprised if I were carried here by Jessica he chuckled to himself. He noticed his partner's agitated state and raised an eyebrow before having a quick glance around the room. "Is something... wrong?" He asked unsure.

"Si," she said nodding at him. "You're not sleeping!"

Luther considered himself for a moment before giving a shrug and walking over to the mini fridge and taking out a bottled water. "I don't know. Something about his city is just preventing me from sleeping," he said quite annoyed, took a sip from the water, and sat down at the edge of the bed and noticed his partner's getup. She wore a red tango dress with an expensive looking necklace around her neck. "Thinking about going for a dance?"

"No," Jessica in a rather disappointed tone. "My mother sent this to me from Italia, and I thought I might try it on."

"I suppose it fits the night," he said standing up from the bed and going to put on his shoes. "What with this being 'Las Vegas' and all that. Anyway, I'm going out for a stroll. It might make me tired enough for a sleep. Follow me?"

"Why not," she shrugged and she followed him out of the hotel room. Once outside, Luther took a deep breath of the fresh air and began walking on the sidewalk, his hands casually in his pockets while Jessica's were around his right arm. Looking around, he saw cars driving on by in their hundreds and civilians walking, oblivious to the so called 'threat' they faced on that night, if there was a threat at all to begin with. He knew they weren't the only Asylums called into the field which meant that his higher ups thought these circus freaks were for real. "You seem real distracted. What's wrong?" He heard Jessica ask.

"Nothing," he responded with a lazy smile. "Just thinking about why I can't sleep. Must be because I'm agitated... Hey isn't that The Broken Pendulum? I had no idea they were here. Let's go say hi." He lazily made his way across the street, expertly dodging on coming cars while his partner yelled at him to get back before he got ran over. She must have given up soon, however, as he heard her curse and a blare of horns go off.

"Are you an idiot?" She yelled at him when she finally caught up. Her anger only rose when her partner shrugged. The urge to cut him was as strong as it ever been and she stared daggers at him to let him know just how stupid his most recent action was. After a while of staring at him she turned and walked towards the other Asylum team as they walked into a club. "When we go inside I don't want you doing anything stupid, comprendere? Or so help me Dio I will make your night the most miserable one you've ever experienced."

"Really?" Luther asked as he raised an eyebrow, his lazy smile turning into a devious one. "I suppose I'll have some fun then and leave you with the mess. See you inside!" Before Jessica could say or do anything, he went a head of her and went inside the club, his ears suddenly filled with loud booming music, and although the noise irritated him to a degree, it drowned out his partner's yelling next to him which he was thankful for. I can't hear you,[i] He shouted in her hear head and instantly wished he hadn't. Now not only were his ears getting molested by the music, his mind was being systematically destroyed by his partner's yelling. [i]Ok, ok. Mi dispiache, I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise, he said giving up.

Bene, now let's go say hi to our colleagues, she said with a sudden cheerful attitude. Mentally shivering, Luther thought it best to follow her and resist the urge to talk lest his partner literally bit his head off.

Kiara had lost her partner again. One moment, they were walking through 'Sin City', the next, Maeve was gone. Kiara glanced around dumbly for a few moments, before sighing. When she tried to reach out to Maeve, with her mind, to get an idea where she was, Kiara found herself blocked off from her partner. A useful thing that she made Maeve learn when her...promiscuity, became far to much of an annoyance. It was awkward, to say the least, to know your partner is sleeping with someone because they don't know how to block off their thoughts. Now though, it was an irritation. "I swear. If I find her in a bar, trying to sweet talk her way into another girl's pants, I'm to kick her ass all through this city!" Her shadow, decidedly masculine and not at all like her body, made a snickering motion. Kiara glared at him.

"Shut up Eric! You're going to be searching for her too. Well, where do you think she's going to be? No! Come on. She has money, and time to kill. Come on...I know you can figure it out..There we go! Now go start searching." At the end of her conversation(for which everyone who couldn't hear Eric gave her looks for), her shadow(Eric) darted off towards the nearest bar in one direction, while Kiara herself went in the other. It shouldn't be too hard to find her partner. Any Bar was good enough for Maeve, and thus, the first one was the one she'd go in. While she walked, idly scanning for any neon signs that screamed the presence of a bar, the crowds of Las Vegas parted around her.

In any other city, she would have stood out, covered in black from head to toe as she was. But, this was Las Vegas. Compared the sheer amount of people and the sheer amount of strangeness in the city, she was rather mild. Here, a street performer in nothing more than leather pants and a leather vest was swallowing fire. There, a group of people who looked like they had more metal piercings on their faces than skin, and were decked out in black(similarly metal covered) leather jackets and gloves and boots and clothes in general. There was another group of people, heading to a costume party. Or at least, Kiara hoped they were. She didn't want to think about the other possibilities. The point was, given the other oddities around her, Kiara blended rather well.

As it turned out, Kiara didn't find Maeve. Maeve found Kiara. The Celtic woman walked out of a bar, an arm around a giggling girl that couldn't have been more than 21. "Eric. If found her. Come back." Kiara ordered testily, before making a beeline for her partner. She caught the last few words of Maeve sweet talking the girl into sleeping with her. Not that hard as the girl was quite obviously drunk. Very, very drunk. "-'ll be fun! Just your beautiful self and me,a room all to ourselves, a soft bed, maybe a pair of cuffs.." The girl giggled again, blushing. Before Maeve could continue, Kiara walked up and grabbed her by the collar of her jacket. "Excuse us. My partner and I have something to discuss." She said politely, before dragging the taller Asylum off while the drunk girl blinked in surprise, before shrugging and turning back into the bar.

"Oh, come on!" Maeve complained, not resisting as she was dragged away. "It wouldn't have taken long! 20, 25 minutes, tops!" Kiara stopped, staring at her coldly. "You've spent all your money, haven't you?" Maeve fidgeted. "Well..if you'd have given me all of my money brought on the trip-" Kiara cut her off. "We made a deal. I control your money, for your own good, and so you don't end up begging money from me so you can feed your alcoholism and addiction." Maeve looked indignant, and began to defend herself. "Okay, one: you cheated to get that deal from me! I was drunk, my decision making was at an all time low! Second: I do not have alcoholism,! I can go as long as I want without alcohol. It's just that I prefer to be drinking when I'm not hunting down very nasty people who can kill me. Also, it's not an addiction! I just happen to like the company of lovely women when I'm not on AMRO business."

Kiara raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving the last claims. Meanwhile Eric finally arrived and settled off to the side to watch the fun. "Drunk or not, you made the deal and vowed it on your namesake. You have to abide by it and I'm keeping a firm grip on the money we have with us. You're an alcoholic, just one with a very high tolerance. And if you don't have an addiction, I don't know what an addiction is!" Kiara took a deep breath through her nose. "Regardless, we are on AMRO business. Didn't you listen to me while I explained, or were you to busy flirting with that flight attendant? You know, the one who rejected your advances at ever turn." From Maeve's dark look, she did remember. Kiara smiled. "Come on, lets head to the square or plaza or whatever it's called. Maybe we'll find who were working with."

The helicopter ride had been tolerable. When you didn't need to stick to the roads, the airport was a mere half hour from the Raven Aegis' reclusive home. It had been a while since Isaiah had flown and the Heathrow they landed at was much different than he remembered. Not that it mattered. Badges were flashed by their suited escorts and they bypassed every security checkpoint. In fact, they were only inside the airport proper for a few minutes as they changed from the private heli-pad to the private runway. All records of Fletcher's past crimes had been wiped by A.M.R.O so Isaiah doubted there would have been any trouble had they traversed the airport normally but he certainly wouldn't complain about missing the lines.

Fletcher could barely contain his excitement on the plane. He stayed mostly confined to his seat but for the first few hours his eyes would dart about while his nimble fingers stroked an imaginary beard pensively. Fletcher's was the only mind Isaiah couldn't maintain a consistent read of. At the moment he figured his partner was contemplating different ways he could extract the life from his targets in the upcoming mission. All he knew was that he would not want to be the canvas on which Fletcher would paint his next macabre opus.

After a few hours, Fletcher apparently decided he had had enough time to think and drew from his bag the small zip-lock from earlier. The cocaine hit him savagely and while the first couple convulsions wracked his body, his mind escaped to a distant place. After the hit he remained quiet for the remainder of the plane ride. isaiah took a nap.

They received similar treatment at the airport in Las Vegas. They were swept through the terminals and deposited in a car that would take them to their destination. Halfway during the car ride, Fletcher began to flood back into the present, the effects of his high wearing off slowly. Fortunately he remained largely sedated until shortly after arriving on the strip. Isaiah wasn't sure if he snapped out of it naturally or it was the sharp, taunting bark ringing out that pulled him back to reality.

"Go to hell Asylums!"

"What the fuck d'he say?" Fletcher whispered placidly to his partner.

"Listen again, perhaps he'll repeat it,"

Fletcher licked his lips and closed his eyes, straining to hear the challenge.

"Go to hell you sons of whores!" the call emanated from a man who stood opposite a pair Isaiah thought looked familar.

"Ah, that's what he said," Fletcher nodded sternly in self-affirmation. He continued calmly but with a firm tone, as if deciding what to have for lunch, "I'll flay the bitch,"

Fletcher took off at a light jog. Isaiah let out a slight huff and followed suit, his legs pumping to keep up with his taller partner. They covered the 100 yards from the front of their hotel to where the challenger was quickly but when he saw them approaching he let out a different cry,

"Oh shit! Fletcher Miles!" With that he abandoned his aggressive attitude and attempted to flee the scene. He got maybe 25 yards before Fletcher, who had increased his pace to close the gap, got within range. He muttered a few choice words and hurled the spine his gauntlet had deposited in his palm. The alchemical magnetization he had created, combined with his inherent precision, resulted in the spine piercing the flesh behind the man's right ankle bones. It entered perpendicularly to the tight skin and sliced clean through the man's Achilles tendon. Now free from its binding, the tendon rolled up like a party horn devoid of air. The man shrieked in pain and fell to the the ground in a heap.

"Oh my, you look to be in a bad way my friend," Fletcher contorted his face to his best, and scarily accurate, impression of sympathy, "Let's see what ol' Fletch can do to help. I'm no doctor but I used to kick ass at operation. Just let me know if I hit anything important,"

He pulled one of his folding blades from the strap of his pack and unfolded it. Fletcher tested the edge with his thumb and then squatted down. The man was scrambling to get away.

"Nurse, be a dear and restrain the patient," with a quick flick the blade he sliced deep into the man's left hamstring, causing the muscle to spasm wildly.

The man cried out again and began swinging his arms wildly at Fletcher.

"Doctor, maybe we need to rethink the nurse's outfit. The patient can't keep his hands to himself," Isaiah stood by, his slightly averted eyes held no pity.

"You'll just have to make do nurse, we simply don't have the funds for brand new uniforms this year,"

"I suppose. Oh well, you don't graduate at the top of your class without being resourceful," As the man brought his hand up again to claw at Fletcher's face, he severed the hand with the blade. With one hand Fletcher pinned the remaining, intact arm to the ground and with the other he sliced cleanly through the wrist, leaving the man with two bloody stumps.

"Nurse, how does that bleeding look? We need to keep that under control, Hippocratic oath and all,"

"Yes sir," Fletcher muttered a few words. The air whooshed as his hands burst into flames. He grabbed the man's stumps, cauterizing the wounds. Isaiah looked on as distaste crossed Fletcher's face. The screaming apparently had grown annoying. He planted his right hand over the man's mouth and seared it shut.

"There you are doctor, I think the anesthesia is kicking in. We shouldn't hear a peep out of him until the surgery is done,"

"Very good nurse, let's begin," Fletcher loomed over the man and peered into his eyes. The tears that streamed freely from them caused him to nod his head curtly and issue a quick salute. "Your nose won't be lighting up for me, so let me know if it hurts," Fletcher grinned and began to work.

When he was finished, he stood up. Covered in blood, he turned to his partner,

"Isaiah, have you said hi to our two friends here? It was kind of rude of you to ignore them, don't you think?" With that, Fletcher turned and waved jovially at the Gemellie.

"Forgive us, I'm Isaiah and this is Fletcher."

"It's a requirement you go on the surface!"

"I am not removing the mask."

Cionus kept on getting more and more frustrated. Solus was not budging. She couldn't understand what was so important about the mask.

"It's in Las Vegas. There's no way you can be there without standing out. You'll get pummeled in seconds!" Cionus attempted once more. She knew that he wasn't going to change his mind, but she could at least try one more time.

"I'll watch from afar."

Cionus pondered for a few moments on how he could possibly get in. Suddenly, she was hit by a bright idea.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"...."

"I have never been more humiliated in my life."

Cionus and Solus were climbing the emergency escape of a boisterous techno night club approximately 100 meters from their intended zone, Solus was covered in Daft Punk stickers. Smugly, Cionus tugged behind him, wearing a small visor.

"I tried to convince you otherwise, but you wouldn't listen." Cionus said matter-of-factly. Finally reaching the roof, they skimmed over at the vast number of beer bottles, cans, and various junk. Groaning, they weaved through the mess, finally finding a vantage point giving good view of the Casino. The flashing neon signs seemed to dullen as the night went on. The flashing lights of the fiasco inside seemed to fall into a pattern, and Cionus slowly dozed on Solus' shoulder. Sighing, he let himself relax. Gently, he removed the visor from her head, set it to the side in the only area that was actually clean, and took off his own mask. Taking a deep breath, he was glad this section of the building was as secluded as it was. He smoothed back his hair, and pushed the mask back on his head. Solus didn't feel like risking the life of the unfortunate individual who may see his face.

Action. Even from afar, Solus could see the blood spattering everywhere. He nearly swore he could hear the mental laughter of the Asylum. The two were unknown to him; he didn't particularly enjoy the company of other Asylums. However, the other two, were well known. A Chrono Asylum, and one with abilities that were quite similar yet several times more deadly than his. Yet somehow, the importance of meeting them wasn't as urgent to Solus.

"Looks like they are here. The operation must be bigger than I thought." Solus commented, amused.

Looking at Cionus, it was clear she had fallen into a deep sleep. Solus made the easy decision to not wake her; he didn't particularly want to feel guilty while being berated.

Running through a quick debate in his head, he decided not to wake Cionus up, but to rather carry her to the zone. As swiftly as he stood, he jumped down from the roof, Cionus in his arms.

Once he finally reached the target area, he saw the remains of the spectacle in greater detail. The gruesome body was enough to make most men whimper. Solus just glanced at the perpetrator, the Asylum, chatting with the Gemellie. Taking one last look at the grim remains, he glanced at Cionus to make sure she was still sleeping. He brushed her soft, smooth hair to the side, gently leaned her against a wall, and approached the group.

"Do we know if he was who we were looking for?"

The deal

A look of casual serenity stared back into the eyes of the two Asylums who had finally finished mutilating the body of the rogue. While the spectacle was rather amusing to behold the two missed one crucial factor, a minor detail being that they were in one of the most densely populated cities and to make matters worse, this one rarely slept.

The blood of the victim slowly seeped onto the road and the perpetrators stood their in all their glory staring at the Angel who remained seated on his throne, his fingers gently rubbing his temple as if inflicted by a minor nuisance.

Once the adrenaline and thrill, from the endeavor of painting dread on a canvas which was the rogue, subsided would the two Asylum duo realize all the potential witnesses that stood around them had come to stoic stand still. An eerie almost supernatural silence had crept over their surrounding vicinity, the only inhabitants appearing to be the Asylums and hundreds of mannequins.

"Do you understand the penalty of exposure?" The Crimson Asylum finally spoke, his casual tone running parallel with his sinister expression.

"Death," Rin completed her partner’s sentence in her usual deadpan manner, her cold doll-like eyes slowly meeting the gaze of the two Asylums. The tilting of her neck revealing the digit -VI- branded next to her neck, a digit that had come to inspire fear and awe in the organization, for she was one of the twelve.

"Exactly my dear partner," Angel nodded a few times, silently mocking the duo with his casually sarcastic demeanor. His fingers continuing to massage his temple, clearly the toll from what strange Alchemy he had cast. "Are you aware of the concept of time?" The Lost number continued, his finger tips striking against the table as if to mimic the ticking of a clock. "Time is a dimension consisting of past, present and future.....is it not? Wouldn't it be safe to assume if someone had control of time he could manipulate all said events? However I don't believe that is time's defining trait. I believe it is motion, movement, progress hence is it safe to say without time we would all merely be in a state of motionless stagnation?" By now XIII was no longer seated, his crimson silhouette approaching the two Asylums with hushed steps.

"Time is in the domain of the Gods." The Chrono replied, her expressionless and stoic persona daunting if not plain terrifying.

“But we are far from Gods aren’t we my dear sorella?”

“Demons..” came her reply, short and to the point.

“Forever to mirror yet never to truly grasp,” The blood draped Angel mused as he observed the mannequins around him. “While time may not be out of a mortal’s grasp, its perception however is of mortal creation. So what if you hijack that perception and halt it? I think you both know the answer by now.”

“Repayment,” Rin once again whispered in a hollow tone.

“Yes indeed. Demons are not capable of favors, we barter and deal and you two are indebted. What is the price of exposure…death….what is the price of life? That is what you owe us.” A saintly smile spread across his face as his hand slowly reached towards the two, a hand shake to seal the deal.

Upon the completion of the “agreement” via the hand shake from whoever was first to accept, a strange spectacle would follow. Upon contact a sharp pain would ensue and from that moment detaching from the ‘deal’ would be impossible. Like venom slithering through the veins, the pain would spiral up the arm and finally spike at the shoulder, a pain resembling that of a burning sensation quite similar to being branded.

“A time will come when I will require a ‘favor’ from you, when that time comes you will know. Till then I have left you a reminder, consider it…”

“Insurance…” The Chrono finished the sentence, choosing the best word befitting the situation.

The Gemellie would have most certainly continued their little game if not for Angel spotting something of interest. His line of sight seemed to be fixated on the mutilated corpse of the rogue. “Well this is interesting,” he thought, a crafty smile spread across his face.

“Looks like things are about to get a little more interesting…..a lot more in fact.” He uttered these words before fading away in a black wisp, his partner shortly following suit before uttering a few phrases and cleaning the mess that was loitering the street, namely the dead body.

And with that the sense of time once again began to flow naturally and with that life once again returned to the city that knows no sleep.

White high heeled shoes clicked brightly on the slick surface of the marble floor as a petite Asian girl in a baby pink strapless prom dress slipped out of the crowded lift. Her poufy skirt barely touched her knees. Most of the people in the lobby didn’t bother to give her a second look. To them she was another typical high school girl looking for her date. Seira smiled at the irony. This was the wrong time of the year for proms. Her eyes rested on the blonde lounge pianist. There he is!

Unbelievable! She went up to their room four hours ago and he is still playing the piano when she returned. Where on earth did the other pianists go? Actually, was there even a recital to begin with?

XCI wandered over to her partner. He was far too engrossed to even look away. A peaceful smile graced his lips as his fingers glided over the keys. The notes arranged themselves according to an unseen score in his mind’s eye. She turned her attention to the digital watch that he was wearing. According to the device his hearing aids were connected. The nifty device was designed to send sound waves to the implants embedded within Camron’s skull above either ear. Very clever use of sound manipulation, and much better than the wired version that he used previously.

Shaking her head, the young lady headed over to the bar. “One Long Island Tea please.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I would need to see some ID before I take your order.”

The Japanese Asylum continued smiling as she nodded slowly despite the comment ruffling her feathers a little. “I am already 21. I don’t see why I have to show you my ID.”

“To me you look 18.”

“Thank you for the compliment. Now can I have my drink? Please.”

“No can do until I see some ID.”

Recognizing defeat, Seira exited the bar. A large crowd had gathered round the main entrance. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her body. Could it be them? She fought her way through the swell around the huge glass doors. On the road a man lay in a crumpled heap. His Achilles tendon had been severed with surgical precision. She licked her upper lip ever so slightly. The sight of blood stirred her own blood lust. Her eyes were riveted with morbid like fascination as flesh was severed again and again till the poor thing was quite dead. Crimson splashes colored the otherwise dull streets of Vegas.

Asylums. They were fellow Asylums. The thought eked into her brain. She jerked her head up only to realize that the body was gone. Definitely the work of Asylums.

The two Asylums left the hotel barely five minutes after that. Seira linked her arm round Camron’s as she leaned her head against his upper arm. She led her reluctantly partner towards the spot where the body had vanished. They stood at a respectful distance observing the group gathered there. She squeezed the blonde’s arm ever so slightly to reassure him.

“Good evening,” she said brightly to the group in general. “I am afraid we are lost…”

“Could you please tell us where we may find i gemelli di demone?” She added quickly before anyone could respond.

The answer was pretty obvious, but she had no idea how to get their attention in such a situation. This was their first mission after all, and no one had bothered to brief them about the proper protocols. Wearing such cute prom themed outfits would probably do little to help them fit in with other teams. So much for sponsored outfits. Oh why didn’t she pack an extra set of clothes?

(Forgive me if I have my timeframes off. I probably do, but since this is just character development, I don't think it's that big of a deal)

A chilly fog emanated from Solus' mask as he sighed softly. It wasn't even that cold out, but it seems that everything that leaves his lips is always ice cold. He looked to the side to see Cionus clinging to his arm. After the event that took down, Cionus got a little spooked. They retreated back to the side of a nearby hotel, and if it weren't for Solus' urgent protests, they would've been even further away. Despite Cionus' position as an Asylum, she doesn't take well to danger. Solus felt a bit awkward, leaning back at the side of the hotel, keeping an eye on the group nevertheless. Especially with Cionus on his arm, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He felt uncomfortable, and a little...

...afraid?

Worrying so much about Cionus, he didn't even realize that he was too alarmed. Fear was an odd emotion for him to experience. Feeling introspective, he thought back to the last time he was afraid. The longer he thought, the more loose he became. He began to lose himself in space, in his memories. After awhile, a foreign sound of an instrument wafted to his ears. Because of his secluded life underground, it was pretty rare for him to listen to much music, despite his own abilities. It sounded... beautiful.

"...Cionus?"

Cionus looked up. It almost seemed as if she could see his face, his expression of wonder and enchantment, even if it was covered by a mask.

"Yes?"

"What's that.... instrument?"

Cionus woke up from her own little bubble of thought. She was aware of the music now, and she too heard the sound.

"Why... it's a piano. Haven't you heard it before?"

Solus closed his eyes, indulging in the sound, the masterpiece seeming to emanate from the hotel. It came out quiet, distorted even, from the muffled walls of the hotel, yet it still sounded amazing to him.

"I haven't... It's breathtaking."

Solus looked at Cionus once more. It felt sudden, like taking a leap of faith, but he had to ask her. It would dig into him for the rest of his life if he didn't, if he ignored the impulse. So he asked.

"Can you teach me?"

The sudden sound of the piano stopping made them both look up. Two figures left the building, heading toward the group they were just with. "There are more members?" Solus thought to himself. Before Cionus could reply, he quickly turned to her.

"I know you are afraid. I am too. But you have to believe me, whatever happens, I promise...

...I will protect you."

Cionus, stunned, followed Solus as they returned to the group. Solus knew that whatever happened next, he needed to be there.

"Solus..."

Cionus stopped for a moment, looking straight at Solus. No, looking through him, deep into him, right into his soul. And she saw something that nobody else could.

"Of course."

Fletcher stuck out his hand. The demon's hand felt alien, not quite like the flesh of a human. Fletcher wrapped his nimble fingers around Angel's hand. Shaking vigorously, he spoke,

"What will one more murder on the streets of Sin City hurt, boss man? Hardly what I'd call exposure and oh so worth it for a little thrill. But hey, you're the fucking boss. Just let me know what I can do for ya," his eyes held a steely glint.

His outer glibness belied his inner calculations. Fletcher was hardly worried but he hated being in someone's debt. The idea of his own mortality or that harm could come to him never crossed his mind, so extreme was his personality disorder. He was the good guy and the good guy always won. He was the predator. The prey doesn't get to fight back. That's the way it is.

As their handshake ended, a sharp pain crawled up his arm. Fletcher never broke eye contact.

"Anything for the boss man,"

Isaiah looked on at the pissing match his partner was doomed to lose anxiously. He needed to distract Fletcher somehow. The mission was more important. The sudden outburst by a small girl in a violently pink dress gave him the opportunity.

"Fletcher, it appears another Asylum has found us. Why don't you allow her to speak with the Gem.."

Before he could finish the sentence, the twins disappeared in a wisp of black smoke, taking the corpse with them. Time had previously been moving slowly during the exchange between Angel and Fletcher but it now had resumed its normal pace. The twins' disappearance was only mildly surprising to Isaiah. He had done his share of reading on them and their flair for the theatrical was well-documented.

"Sorry, my dear, it appears as though they have other plans that have proven quite pressing. My name is Isaiah and this is my partner Fletcher. I doubt you have heard of us but we are the Raven Aegis. Forgive me but I'm unfamiliar with your name. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten me?"

Fletcher had spun around at this point and found himself looking at a petite Asian girl and a nervous looking teenager. His emotionless eyes sized them up while his face split into a warm grin.

"I'll be damned if you two aren't just the neatest pairing," his face turned steely, "How long you been in the field boy? Any reason why I shouldn't be able to count on you? Maybe I should just kill you right now and save me the guess work. No reason for me to take a knife in the back because some punk who's cherry hasn't been popped can't perform," Fletcher held on to the tension for a few more seconds before splitting another grin, "I'm just kidding! I'm sure we'll get along great!"

The breath Isaiah had been holding was slowly released and the thickness in the air lightened. Isaiah looked at the newcomers with anticipation.

Fletcher looked at them warmly but the murderous glare in his eye never faded.

“Oh that is so disappointing,” Seira added with a pout which failed to hide the insincerity in her voice.

Camron felt his partner release his arm as she turned her attention to Fletcher. He continued staring at the disheveled man so intently that he never even blinked. He wanted desperately to run away, but his legs wouldn’t budge.

“Raven Aegis?” The raven haired girl mused. All traces of her cheery smile disappeared. Instinctively she stepped in front of Camron.

Things had started off quite nicely till that the other Asylum butted into the conversation. Indignation flowed within her and she almost allowed it to cloud her mind. How dare he threaten them? It might have been said in jest, but it showed an utter disrespect for them as a team. Not that she can blame that jerk. Camron was such an easy target.

“You are Isaiah, right? Please keep your partner in line or you will regret it. I was watching his antics just now so I know I have the upper hand.”

Her face was now impassive as a cold smile graced her lips. Seira watched the other team intently as she flexed the fingers of her right hand showing off the two metal rings she was wearing. She raring for a fight. There was a possibility that nothing will happen, but she couldn't bring herself to trust these two clowns. A.M.R.O. is a dangerous organization filled with volatile individuals. Camron will definitely be their number one target if she ever lets her guard down.

"But since we aren't about to kill each other yet.." She shrugged indifferently as her eyes flicked in Isaiah's direction before fixing on Fletcher once more. "You can call me Seira. I was told my partner's name is Camron."

As Solus got within speaking range of the group, he immediately silenced the other members. Anybody willing themselves to speak will only find themselves shouting silently, as if they were being watched on mute. Solus overheard their "introductions" and quickly stepped in to ease the tension forming, and if at the worst redirect the hatred to him.

Solus sighed, "Rule 214a of the Asylum Rulebook: No fights must occur between Asylum unless popcorn is brought to Solus for him to watch." Solus dropped the invisible book he was reading out of his hand. "Where's my popcorn?". Solus was taken aback for a second after seeing the two new Asylums.

"You look just like children! Anyways, I am Solus, and this is Cionus. Now, we have better things to than taunt psychopaths, alright? Fletcher, calm yourself, these are just kids. And seriously, you two... He just stripped the skin off some asshole, just because he was told to go to hell. With other Asylums, a tough guy look isn't going to get you anywhere. Get it?"

Solus stopped silencing their voices.

"Now, yell at me if you wish. I don't mind."

Solus stood there, anticipating fists into his face in the next 2.3 seconds.

"This mission is hardly what it seems," Angel mused as he stood atop the hotel Stratosphere with his lovely partner gazing down as if observing ants go about their daily dreary routine. "Something very interesting is afoot and the blue print of madness is spread before us, can you see it my dear Sorella." XII continued; his spectacles radiated a brilliant red, reflecting the glow of the crescent moon above him.

"These are......only.....speculations," the prodigy replied. Her mismatched eyes, stoic and cold, complimenting her partner's eerily veiled gaze.

"True enough, yet of one thing we are certain. We have guests who have yet to be acquainted, lets pave the path to which fools are to tread." A mischievous grin shaped his face, a visage of malicious intent.

"Ooh a game!" A suddenly chirp echoed in a tone brimming with cheer. "Will we be playing 'capere avem', please say yes big brother!" The little girl twirled excitedly as the second infamous personality of the Chrono finally awoke to greet her Fratello.

"I had a feeling that would wake you up," The Asylum's tone seeming uncharacteristically kind for someone known as the Blood Draped Angel. But then again it is this unshakeable bond that earned them the title of i Gemellie de Demone for the characteristic of family is never blood it is loyalty and even demons share that sentiment.

"Horay!" The Chrono cheered, lifting her arms and flailing them about enthusiastically while twirling once more. "Can I make the birdie, pretty pretty please?" Two puppy dog eyes stared back at her partner awaiting submission, for refusal was futile.

With a sarcastic sigh Angel agreed to humor his partner and her overly zealous nature, observing the little girl lost in her errand, giving birth to a radiating orb that slowly grew in between her palms.

Capere avem translated to 'catch the bird', a popular game played by Asylums where the objective is to reach the target before any other team, a race without limitations and the only rule being the Alchemists must remain covert. While this is often though as a means of a friendly competition, an ice breaker among Asylums its too purpose is for each team to understand the capabilities of their co-workers, to gauge their skill level.

"I did it!" The Chrono exclaimed with joy as she danced about waving a large orb of pure Alchemic energy.

"Ladies and gentleman, I would like to interrupt your nonsensical lives for a special announcement," Angel telepathically shouted across Vegas, an open channel for all. "I am sure you all know the tradition when more than two teams are involved, we play a game and compliance is mandatory. So lets us see who reaches the birdie first, the winner will get a very special surprise."

With that the telepathic message ended and the orb within Rena's hand found itself being swung with enough force to have it land near the outskirts of Vegas, floating around 300 feet in the air.

"As one game ends another begins," Angel whispered coyly, his crimson figure standing behind the three teams that had gathered around one another, the newbies, the Raven Aegis and Toxic Serenity.

"Bickering like fools you forget on what you tread," As the Crimson Asylum whispered these words imbued with Alchemy, the floor beneath the three teams discreetly liquified and instantaneously hardened around their feet, trapping them. Even for an untrained Alchemist, escaping such a trivial bind would be no problem, however that wasn't the real trap.

"Oh my, someone help please. These people they are trapped, they can't move, their feet!" The innocent Chrono screamed, her enticingly dreadful tone gathering an abundance of bystanders, all gathering at the spot staring at the individuals who had their feet encased in pavement.

As the crowd of individuals increased, the Chrono calmly walked away with a innocent wink aimed at the Asylums. Her little act ensuring the efforts of these Asylums is tripled, for now witnesses stood all around and the option of simply utilizing a supernatural force such as Alchemy to break the bonds was out of question.

"Welcome to the City of Sin and we are the Demons."

The cement hardened quickly around the Raven Aegis' feet. They gave their feet a tug but found no give at all. They were stuck. Having your feet encased in cement is a funny thing. It feels a bit odd. Unless you were unfortunate enough to get doused in freshly poured cement, a fate that Fletcher had not spared a few of his playthings from, it's very cold. No sunlight can penetrate the cocoon around you feet and the warmth is absorbed by the cement. An interesting sensation indeed.

"Cover your ears Fletch," Isaiah whispered

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?" Fletcher's concept of volume relativity went out the window as his hands blocked all sound from entering his ears.

Isaiah sighed and made a small motion with his fingers. To an onlooker it would have looked like nothing more than the stretching of his digits or the popping of his knuckles. These subtle movements were laced with alchemy, however. From what seemed like a block away, gun shots rang out. A bead of sweat dripped down Isaiah's face, from the heat or the strain it's uncertain. As the artificial sounds rang out, the crowds panicked and dispersed, nearly trampling some of the smaller civilians.

As the chaos ensued and the attention was off the Asylums, Fletcher was free to use some slightly less inconspicuous alchemy.

"I hate this fucking game, Isaiah. Somebody always cheats," Isaiah had learned not to ask how someone could cheat in a game with no rules.

Fletcher spoke a few words under his breath and, timed perfectly with another fake gunshot, shattered the concrete around his feet. He did the same with Isaiah's and the two were free.

"I suppose we ought to make our way to the bird?" Isaiah said.

"Sure. Whatever," Fletcher sulked.

Without giving the other two Asylums a second look, the Raven Aegis headed off toward the direction they felt the birdie pulsing from.

"You have no idea how much I am resisting not to throw all the alchemy I have at those too..." Solus snorted, more than a tad annoyed. He didn't even know why he was annoyed, they could've done much worse. In fact, he was expecting much worse.

"And I was planning on crushing their eardrums when they made the move to attack us!" Solus slammed his fist on the concrete, more than a little disappointed he wasn't assaulted. He took a deep breath, and his hand started quivering. To anybody listening nearby, it seemed as if a deep sound was emanating from him. Almost like a subwoofer on that one annoying passing car. The concrete beneath Solus and Cionus started to crack, as the soundwaves pulsating through and around their legs began to vibrate harder and harder, shattering piece by piece. Solus wasn't ready to lose at this point. He looked to the side at the Asylums next to him, as he and Cionus rose out of the ruins around them. Cionus looked at them with a solemn look. In the dark lights of Sin City, only half her face was visible, her mouth. A smirk grew on it.

"Did you know... that if materials vibrate at a certain soundwave... they actually can liquify? Once they are, it is simply a matter of careful direction, and next thing you know, you can move the ground underneath you. And then who can stop you?" Cionus cackled lightly. With Solus with her, it is easy for her to give off the look of a young girl caught up in trouble. She was great at playing that part, a talented actress. Almost as if seeing a small child lose their family, and once she finished crying, just broke out laughing. A small snicker here and there. The voice suddenly rising to a good-hearted chuckle. Until finally, drowning out the sounds of her own screams with the laughter of insanity and pain, deafening all the moral values people have placed in themselves, in others, to the point where you want to stop your life-long goals. You want to stop trying to be the good guy. All you want to do is laugh a little. Even for a moment.

Cionus began to hum lightly, singing. It was the kind of sound that you can't think of anything else but it, just can't get it out of your head. It enchants you, to the point where you lose focus, as death envelops you. But not today. Cionus had no plans of killing people that could be useful to her some day. The cement around the two remaining Asylums melted, liquified, just as she said. But instead of sloshing away from them, it seemed to crawl up them more. Up to their necks, the cement kept on flowing. And finally it stopped.

Solus had already started to walk away.

"Give them room to breathe, in the chest. That's how many suffocations happen." Solus turned his head back once more, showing the slightest concern. Making him almost look good in comparison to what any observer saw.

"Well of course. I don't want you dead yet, do we?" Cionus stood up from her kneeled position. "Let's leave, before we get too far behind. I love this game too much for that."

“Well if that isn’t the most... Hey! I shall remember that!” Seira yelled after the retreating team.

She doubted they heard her over the stampede. I have to get Camron out before he suffocates himself! The young lady bit her lower lip. She tested wiggling her toes. First toe, second toe… good! She flexed her right foot up and down. A loud cracking sound followed her swift kick. Taking in a deep breath she gave her concrete prison one final kick. The shell burst open sending debris flying everywhere.

Seira threw out her hands to break her fall. She winced as she scrapped the palms of her hands. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. Her skirt was torn in various places. Strands of hair that escaped her chignon cascaded down her face. Pearly white teeth gritted as the Asylum forced herself up. The lethal looking curved metallic blade jutting out from underneath her right shoe made it harder for her to stand up. She looked up and froze. People were staring at her. Not one or two people but quite a sizeable group. She had to do something fast!

The crafty novice brushed the loose strands back then curtseyed. Hearing no response from the crowd, she looked up and pretended to be annoyed. “Oh come on people, some applause will be good.”

Lukewarm applause came from a couple while the rest stared at each other in confusion. The Asian girl clapped along with them despite the palm radiating from her palms and soon more people joined in. She curtseyed again.

“Much better. Thank you!” She shouted energetically. “I am very happy that you can join us for our little dojo demonstration. Let me demonstrate our secret technique on my partner.”

She brushed aside murmurs of concern from the crowd. “He is a good actor, isn’t he? Doesn't he look like he is hyperventilating?”

“Okay! Stand back please,” Seira yelled as she lifted her right leg.

She had to pretend to be oblivious that her skirt was riding up her thigh and that many are getting a perfect view of what was underneath it. The Asylum swung her foot back and forth rapidly. She closed her eyes as she focused on building up enough moment. Her eyes shot open as she channeled all the energy into her foot.

“Kiai!”

The cement envelop shattered freeing the other Asylum from its confines. Camron landed on the ground in an unsightly heap. A flash bang rolled out of Camron's pocket and stopped near Seira’s feet. She picked it up and held it behind her back as she turned to the crowd once more. She changed her right shoe changed back into the white high heeled shoe she was wearing earlier. A few people were pointing and whispering. They could not believe what they witnessed a few seconds earlier. She ignored them.

“Now I will show you where our camera crew are. Please look where I am pointing and smile.”

When most heads were turned, the metal manipulator threw the grenade into the air. Screams filled the air as the crowd surged forward. Seira grabbed Camron’s hand and they vanished in a nick of time. Any later and they would have been trampled to death. Neither realized that they had been caught on camera by a nearby television crew.

For a few minutes, Kiara allowed herself to think that they would actually reach their destination without anything going wrong. Maeve wouldn't disappear on her to go hit on some drunken woman, or to go drink more, or to cause mayhem in general. Someimtes, it was far to much of a chore to keep her partner around. Regardless, she allowed herself to indulge in that little fantasy for a few minutes. It was nice, and it lasted far longer than she expected. And then it abruptly ended when she felt a familair grip on her elbow and she was tugged to the side with a yelp.

"Where are we going?" She demanded, trying to resist her partner's pulling. Trying and failing. Maeve was the stronger of the two of them. When Maeve didn't respond, Kiara tried again. "Maeve! Whe-oh. No! We are not going there!" Her eyes had finally drifted past her partner and towards the pulsing light of the club they were heading into, and the sound of muffled, blaring music. "I said we were going to meet the people we were working with! Not go into a club!" Maeve finally glanced back, a grin on her face. "But there are other AMROs in there. At least four." At Kiara's sceptical look, she added, "Just start feeling for them. You'll see I'm not lying."

Muttering under her breath, Kiara did as her partner asked, stretching out her 'sixth sense'. The first she came across was Maeve, as expected. Stretching farther in she sensed the usual people, the party goers in the club. Then, much to her surprise, she felt them. Two of them, heading towards another two. Grudgingly, as she retrached her sense, she said, "You're right. But don't think for a second that I believe this is entirely based upon the fact that other AMROs are there!"

Maeve laughed, still dragging Kiara forward through the crowd, ignoring any rude comments shouted after them. The club doors were growing ever closer. "Well, of course not. There's likely going to be a significant amount of alcohol and beautiful women in there." She winked as Kiara rolled her eyes. They pushed there way in and were momentarily blinded by the lights and deafened by the music. What seemed to be like a human sea of party goers danced around them.

For a regular person, finding people in the club would have been nearly impossible. For the two Asylums, however, it was a simple matter. Kiara followed in Maeve's wake as the Celtic woman pushed her way through the crowd. It was only a few moments before they were next to the Broken Pendulum. Maeve's eyes lit up when she saw Vail. Kiara, sensing her partner's intentions, hissed "Don't even think about it. She's a partner." Maeve didn't even look at her as she responded, "No, you're my partner. She's fair game."

Before Kiara could stop her, Maeve had sidled up to Vail, practically purring, "And who might you be?" Kiara groaned and snapped, seemingly to no one, "Shut up! I couldn't stop her and you know it! Yes, we will just have to see won't we?" She walked a bit closer to Maeve, ready to yank her out of the club by the collar if need be.

Vail, however, was already intrigued by the pretty woman who had stated to chat her up and no force on Earth or the heavens would be able to drag her away. While few had ever said Vail's span of concentration was a long one, most who knew Vail also knew well that it was almost impossible to tear her away from anything that she considered a curiousity. This woman, Maeve as she would later know her, stunk of alchemy with energy oozing from every pore. If Vail could tell this about the woman then she knew that her own aura was being analysed, meaning that she was speaking to Vail for more than her dazzling good looks. They were both alchemists and they knew it.

That is what made this woman, and her friend behind her to a lesser extent, a curiousity. Vail felt compelled to explore further and, considering their clear alchemical ability, it was very likely that the two of them were part of the group that the Broken Pendulum was scheduled to meet up with. Usually Alistair would have complained if Vail tried to flirt on the job but, considering her new target was an alchemist, she had every reason to. She bit her lower lip softly and moved to pick up her drink.

Taking a sip of the bright green concoction from a wide cocktail glass, Vail slowly turned her head towards the woman who had spoken to her. She licked her lips as seductively as she could.

"Vail," she said. "And you? It's not often you find such a pretty alchemist all alone."

Her eyes flicked towards the woman's companion. "Although with another alchemist? That's something else entirely."

Maeve smiled at the compliment, pleasantly surprised to see that her advances were being returned by this woman. Usually it was abrupt rebuttal, when it came to other Alchemists. As Vail licked her lips, Maeve's eyes briefly dropped from the woman's face, before returning upwards at her question. "Maeve. My companion is Kiara. We're here on AMRO business. As, I suspect, are you." She glanced around at the crowd around them, before returning her gaze to Vail. "But, I'm of the opinion that pleasure should come before business. Especially with such a beautiful woman as yourself to keep me company." Seeing the bartender approaching, Maeve asked, "Any drinks to recommend?" The fact that things were going so well called for a drink. Then again, she would have gotten a drink even if things had went downhill.

"This," replied the raven haired woman, lifting up her glass. "It tastes of lime, vodka, and very little else. Doesn't get much better."

She waved over the bartender, ordering an identical drink for the woman beside her. Maeve was handed the drink remarkably quickly, the same bright green that Vail had almost finished.

Kiara, for her part, gave up on her companion with a sigh. It was quite obvious that she wasn't going to be able to move Maeve from her position. Not even if she had had all the powers of AMRO at her back. So, she settled down for a long wait, hoping that they would make things quick. They did have a meeting to keep after all.

"They get on like a house on fire, don't they?" asked Alistair, slowly moving from behind Kiara to beside her. He held out his free hand to the side to shake, the other holding a particularly stiff drink (tap water). He smiled. "Delacour. Alistair Delacour."

"Can't you ever just say 'Hi'?" Vail asked, looking over her shoulder to the two more sensible alchemists.

Alistair rolled his eyes. "She's a charmer once you get to know her, honest." Sarcasm tinged every word.

"I heard that!" Vail yelled back.

"That was the point, m'dear."

"To answer your companion's query," continued Alistair. "As you suspected, we too are AMRO agents. The Broken Pendulum, if I am to be more specific. While I may be jumping to conclusions here I would not be surprised if we are both in this city for the same reason. If that is indeed the case then I am happy to have been introduced to you before the, as my associate would put it, 'fun' begins."

Maeve, back at the bar, grinned. "Vodka and Lime? That's a combination and I can get behind!" She thanked both the bartender for the drink and Vail for getting it for her, before downing it in one go. The club becoming too warm for her to continue to wear her leather jacket so Maeve removed it, and was about to just set it on the bar when Kiara resignedly held out a hand. Her partner, it seemed, was willing to make sure she didn't misplace or lose her jacket. Or Arwan, for that matter. As Kiara caught the jacket and the shotgun hidden in it, Maeve turned to Vail. Rubbing her choker necklace for luck as much as habit, she asked, "Care for a dance?"

"If you think you can handle it... or me," teased Vail, mimicking the girl in front of her by tipping back her drink and swallowing it in a single mouthful. She pushed herself up from the bar, holding Maeve's hand gently and leading her off into the crowd of dancing people with a shake of her hips.

Kiara briefly glanced at Alistair, replying, "My only only concern is that we're in the house." She shook his hand, catching Maeve's jacket with the other. "Kiara. Of the Bean Sidhes if you want us to be specific too. The Banshee's if you prefer." Maeve didn't even glance over as she said, "No. Just the Bean Sidhes."

Kiara snorted. "Try to avoid calling us the Banshees around her. She hates the translation for some reason. Probably the same one why she's only told me her real name." Don't you dare. Maeve's face remained smiling as she walked away, following Vail's footsteps eagerly, but her thought jab at Kiara was far from happy.

Alistair shot his partner a look as she faded into the crowd, an attempt to convince her to be sensible for the first time in her life. It never worked and, with a great grin on her face, Vail vanished just out of sight, occasionally flicking back into his field of view as people parted before being hidden by the crowds again. 'Please don't get too distracted, my dear. We are here on business' thought Alistair, every word chiming in the back of Vail's mind.

The first and last response he got was a devilish smirk as Vail's head popped back into view, only to sink back into the sea of people.

Maeve was smiling as she danced with Vail. The other woman certainly knew how to dance, even in high heels and a dress. For a trip into Vegas that was supposed to be business, this was turning out to be far more fun than she had originally anticipated. Here she was, dancing with a beautiful vixen in a dress, and the mission wasn’t even over yet. “So,” she began as they danced through the crowd, “Is there anywhere I can visit you after this is all over? There tends to be a lot of downtime between missions and I find it rather…boring. And I’m sure between the two of us we could find something fun to do.”

Although surprised at how forward Maeve was being, Vail had no complaints at all. The other woman was an intriguing sight to say the least and Vail had always felt much more comfortable around fellow alchemists. She imagined that every alchemist felt some comfort by being around their own kind, even if it was minimal.

Vail bit her lower lip softly. "There are plenty of places you can visit me," she teased, leaning in to whisper it into Maeve's ear. Oh, how she was enjoying this. "Just don't get beat up too badly. It'd be a shame to find you can't keep up."

Maeve shivered as she felt Vail’s warm breath against her ear. This girl was far different from the usual ones she managed to find. Maybe it was because she was an alchemist. Maybe not. Maeve didn’t particularly care, truth be told. She smirked and then leaned in to whisper her response in Vail’s ear. “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. When this is all over, then we’ll just have to see who can out last who, hmm?”

She moved over till her lips were hovering a few inches over Vail's own. She stayed there a moment and then pulled away. Tempting as it was, she'd have to wait.

Alistair, a little further away from the two dancing alchemists, rolled his eyes as he saw them pass by his vision once more. "Regardless, it is a pleasure to meet the two of you and I hope that we can work well together as a team," said the man in the pink suit, a wide smile growing across his face, to Kiara. "The name Bansh- Bean Sidhes rings a bell, I do believe. I'm sure that memories of your escapades that have echoed through the organisation will flood back to me in a short while."

Kiara didn’t bother trying to contact Maeve, as she knew from experience her partner would completely ignore her. The Celtic woman had things of far more interest to her on her mind than the prodding of her partner. Kiara turned to Alistair, more focused on the task at hand. “The pleasure is all mine. As for the teamwork, well, they certainly seem to be getting along well enough for fluid teamwork.” She nodded towards their dancing partners, before the other two Asylum’s were swallowed by the crowd again.

She laughed softly. “For your memories, anything that involves screaming and/or a level of destruction that was unneeded, that would be us. There have been a few shining moments where I’ve managed to convince Maeve that the subtle approach is better than her usual approach, but they’re few and far in between. I must confess I haven’t heard of the Broken Pendulum, but I’m sure you’ve your own tales to tell.”

"I know that feeling all too well. I love Vail with all my heart and yet despite my best intentions to curb her nature she is still as loose a cannon as she was the day we met. I could tell you many a tale involving vast amounts of collateral damage, mostly her fault," Alistair replied. "And here I was, believing Vail may have been the source of some infamy. No matter! We have much time to change that."

Smiling, Kiara changed the subject. "Know any of the other teams we're paired with? I somehow doubt that it'll be just the four of us, doing this mission." Her eyes flicked over to Vail and Maeve. "Two of us, if Maeve was allowed to have her way."

"I am unaware of any of the other teams we will be working with. I apologise." Alistair's voice brought Kiara back from her worries. "It seems as if we've all been left in the dark on this mission, I'm afraid. I was worried that it had only been us without a clue, although I'm not sure if our shared lack of knowledge is comforting or distressing. Only time will tell."

At his final remark she said, “It’s both. Comforting that we’re not the only team left in the dark, and distressing because we have no idea what we’re getting into. All I know is that we’ve been requested to investigate the Circus.” Her eyes glanced over to the crowd where Maeve and Vail had disappeared into. “Though, given Maeve’s penchant for violence, I think it’s safe to say that we won’t be doing simple reconnaissance. They’re expecting a fight, otherwise they would have sent the more stealth and infiltration based Asylums. “She suddenly glared at her shadow, which anyone could see was definitely male and definitely not her natural shadow. “Well, yes, we both know that’s going to happen, don’t we? You really think she’s going to fail that miserably given her track record? True, there is Brazil to think of. But I sincerely doubt Vail is like that. You don’t trust anyone who isn’t me or Maeve!” She glanced back at Alistair, looking apologetic. “Sorry. Sometimes it is more of a hassle then a benefit to have a sentient shadow.”

A sentient shadow? Alistair thought. There came a point in every alchemists' life where they realised nothing surprised them any longer, although a sentient shadow came particularly close to breaking that streak. Alistair inspected it, the shadow flickering as the club lights battered against it, but it was indeed there. It took a shape quite different to Kiara's own form, confirming her statement. He was tempted to question further but restrained himself.

"I consider it a point of intrigue," he said. "But I think that if Maeve is as destructive as you say then it may be sufficient to point her and Vail towards our goal and let them handle it. I'm sure that way we can deny accountability and avoiding having to clean up afterwards. Vail has the unfortunate habit of leaving a mess whenever she fights."

As Maeve and Vail reappeared in sight once more Kiara mused, “You think if we set off the fire sprinklers and caused everyone in here to run for their lives, we’d be able to make them focus on the job we’ve been assigned?”

Alistair laughed. "No, dear. I think they'd consider it an excuse to get out of their clothes."

Kiara smiled, chuckling gently. "True enough." She conceded. As Angel began speaking in their minds, her smiled died out. She gave a sigh, talking even before Angel finished his little speech in their heads. "I'm really sorry about this." Every word carried alchemical energy. As soon as she stopped speaking, Alistair and Vail's shadows leapt up and wrapped around their arms and legs, immobilizing them. Maeve showed as much surprise as Vail likely did, when the other Alchemist was immobilized, then she gave an wicked smile, mischief twinkling in her eyes. She kissed Vail on the cheek before whispering in Mrs. Hyde's ear, "Thanks for the dance. See you soon." With that, she turned around and quickly made her way to the edge of the crowd, catching her leather jacket as Kiara tossed it to her. She was pulling it on as she made her way as fast as possible towards the exit, pushing and shoving where she had too.

Curses and threats followed in her wake as she bolted out the door, stopping briefly to get her bearings as to where the beacon was. It was quite a distance away, all things considered. To far for her to run there in a reasonable amount of time. "Now...where is a...aha! That will do nicely!" Maeve muttered, spotting an alleyway that looked empty and out of the way. Speed walking into the alleyway, she did a quick check around. Nope. Nobody in here to record what she was about to do. Not that anyone would believe them, given what people can do to edit videos and pictures now. But, it was always better to be safe than sorry, right? The Asylum drew two sigils. One on her skin, and the other on her clothing.

A series of snapping sounds as bones were remade and reworked could be heard, and then a peregrine falcon flew out of the alleyway, heading as fast as it's world record making speed could go towards the beacon and object of the game. Maeve was going to win. Even if she had to win as a bird.

For herself, Kiara relaxed into a chair in the club, and counted to thirty seconds after Maeve exited the club. Assuming the other two Asylums hadn't already broken free, she would then release them saying cheerfully, "Well, off you go. Maeve just wanted a head start." Then she closed her eyes, snapping, "Shut up Eric I know what I'm doing! Well yes, I realize that. I realize that too. Okay, I didn't realize my shadow had turned into my mother!" Then, silence. Both from her, and around her. Or as good as. She was blocking out all other sound so she could here the response she expected better. Reaching out a telepathic link, she contacted Angel. Okay. What are you really up to? I like to know all that I can about some of the more infamous Asylum teams, and you're the most infamous. I somehow doubt you start a game because of tradition. What's the catch? Or, the 'special surprise'. She knew most of the stories of the Demon Twin's missions, and all of them ended badly for any other teams with them. Most hadn't died. Most.

"They have already figured it out huh? Damn it.....how will I clean all this mess up," a weary tone echoed behind the television crew, a grim expression on their faces as they looked about to find the source. The crew was clearly shook up by what they had witnessed, for them this was the brink where reality and the make belief came crashing into one another and suddenly hearing a phantom didn't help calm their inquisitive mind frame.

"Those two have been trouble since the moment they joined A.M.R.O, they are the unpredictable variable in our equation. There is no understanding them, its like reading a book without pages or deducing time from a broken clock. The Director may be able to ignore their antics but how long till the votes are cast and the Demons are put to rest?" A man spoke once more, from his seasoned tone it was quite apparent he was in his early forties and yet the visage which the hapless crew sought with their camera's blazing about, seemed to be in vain.

"And as for you kids, I do apologize but I can't let you go after what you have witnessed. I would just wipe away your memory however my boss you see doesn't allow me to take any risks." With that the van in which the crew was seated instantly lit ablaze, a large explosion destroying all witnesses and proof and amidst the sirens, the smoke, the screams and fire; a hazy figure slowly manifested itself out of thin air. His eyes concealed by a dark black visor, his head by a black mask, his apparel appearing to consist of a highly dense and adaptable stealth armor. A modern day ninja.

...Click...

With that sound the Ninja once more began to meld with his surroundings, his eyes staring into his visor which had just captured a picture of one of the Asylums and stored it next to a relatively large album containing all the information on all the Asylums who had been sent to Vegas in search of the Circus.

"Reconnaissance is going successful, so far no contact has been made."

--------------xX--------------Xx---------------

Rena couldn't help but giggle, her hands covering her mouth as if trying to keep her enthusiasm in control. Like a small child discovering an amusing secret and unable to wait for it to unravel.

"So my dear little partner you will not tell of this little secret to Rin, now let us have some fun?" Angel whispered carefully in the Chrono's ear, his hands gently ruffling her hair. "You should go on ahead and enjoy yourself, I have to deal with a....lizard that has joined us," the Crimson Asylum continued, a fiendish smirk spreading across his face.

"You mean Lexix,Yay! He is such a funny little man. But I guess ill let you play with him first big brother, though I'll be upset if you kill him without me okay?" The devlish little Chrono replied, her innocent smile and tone almost making her morbid words sound angelic.

After a slight pause of contemplation, Angel finally conceded, giving in to his partner's pouts. "Alright fine, I will not kill him now scurry on child." He spoke, his hands gesturing the Chrono to 'shu' as they say.

'Okay. What are you really up to? I like to know all that I can about some of the more infamous Asylum teams, and you're the most infamous. I somehow doubt you start a game because of tradition. What's the catch? Or, the 'special surprise'.

Angel steps appeared to come to a silent halt, an expressionless face stared in the direction of Kiara who had dared to open a telepathic channel with someone of his skill set.

"Aren't you an inquisitive little girl," After a short pause the Lost Number finally replied with a telepathic message of his own, however unlike the others the sheer force of it was deafening almost disorienting. Once the curious Asylum would be able to regain her composure she would find the world around her slowing down, all her senses slowly merging and warping all that is around her. Her perception of reality fading away and eventually everything around her shattering like a puzzle disassembling and finally reassembling revealing an empty white void.

"Comfortable?" The Blood Draped Angel inquired sarcastically as he lazily walked towards her. "Well you should, we are inside your head after all." A sly smirk spread across his face, one that dared the banshee to challenge him.

Each step that the Asylum took appeared to reconstruct the world around them and by the time he had reached Kiara, they seemed to be standing in a wonderful library, dimly lit in a gothic setting much a kin to Angel's dramatic flare.

"How many demons do you have inside your head...other than me of course?" XIII spoke as he held aside his hand and heeding his call several books materialized in his grasp. "Lets see now," Angel began, tilting the books to read their titles, or more accurately searching for one specific title. "'Kiara's Demons', here it is," with a mischievous smile the Asylum tossed the book in front of Kiara.

"Everyone has their demons girl, you can put on this facade of empathy and altruistic compassion but the fact is you are the worst of them. You chain your beasts and lull yourself to sleep, but you are an Alchemist....nothing but a stain that needs wiping. You succeeded in amusing me to a certain degree so I would induce you to a vegetable state and since you inquired what I intend to do...... I intend to avail the purpose of this game. The nature of this mission will require a bait and sadly due to the pride of Asylums, none of them would merely opt for this position, hence the need for this little game." While Angel's words appeared to harbor and honest intent, his mischievous smile clearly hinted something was a miss, something which Kiara would need to press harder to uncover.

"Well since I don't intend to let you go anytime soon, I suppose I can humor you for a while longer."

-----------Xx-----------xX-------

"Yay I finally made it!" Rena chirped enthusiastically while twirling around in a little victory dance. The energy orb appeared to be floating right on top of her, nearly 300 feat so. However the Chrono didn't seem to be making any attempts to reach and grab the orb for that is how the victor was to be decided. Instead she merely stood her ground, her battle ready stance a clear implication that she was going to interfere with anyone that hoped to reach the orb.

"Lets see how strong you Asylums really are!" She telepathically shouted to all competitors, an invitation to a fight of a life time.