[IC] Wolf in City of Glass

youtu.be/yWNJ7V3AnhY

All creature at times become deaf or blind in their distractions. It is how hawks dive from the clouds with bent wings to seize their prey. It is what allows a fox to sneak up on a rabbit in the brush. Humanity is no different in the end, not really. Though often they tell themself otherwise, the worse of it still is to be stated. In their ignorance of the truth, they fill their lives with such numbing distractions. They bury their eyes into the screens of their phones, and fill their ears with the constant hum of noises produced by earbuds. Though they claim their birth right to be of the masters of this world, they are no different then mouse or hair. They are simply prey, telling themselves that they pull every last string like a puppet master.

Perhaps, ignorance is bliss after all.

The pencil slid across the page in steady even strokes, and Mal's ears took note of the scratching sound of it as at last the edgings was finished. It was hard to say the man was satisfied with his own work, and if pressed would merely call them doodles, but in the least it was somewhat pleasing. No, that which he had drawn wasn't the place to which he sat, or even had seen. It was somewhere that someday he would like to find. A place of dark deep woods, of babbling water, and peace enough to drift upon such a thing as that vessel which line by line his imagination had structured.

The man found his lips moving, softly singing under his own breath before he could silence them.

"Pencil glides with steady grace
Draws a dream
A far-off place
Woods so deep
Water so clear
A peace that whispers in my ear."

And for a moment, only that moment, Mal let his soul drift upon that song which had risen up inside of him unbidden and new. He could hear the river. He could taste the woods upon the air, and he could feel the peace settling over mind and muscle.

Fool
The harsh edge of his own thoughts all but growled at him in retort for such stupidity. Hand, which felt almost claw like in this angry moment, tore away the page with a noise of ripping paper and senseless dreams. No, he should not be distracted. No, he shouldn't think about anything other then the word -now-. No, he should not act like prey, despite the fact that he was indeed hunted. So, dark brown eyes set below oak colored hair turned themselves to the city of glass to which he inhabited. Sitting upon the steps of some old red brick domicile, the man let it all come rushing in to replace the senses muted by senseless dreaming.

Engines, drinking oil and gasoline, spewed foul odor and smoke. Music, laughter, and people caring nothing but for their own entertainment filled the air, only to be punctuated by screens on crowded streets barking out advertisements. Street performers were dotted on corners, only to argue with homeless begging for change. This was no New York, nor was it Chicago, but it was close to these crowded places. Body odor, perfumes, colognes, cigarette, e-vapes, and marijuana smoke where sharp tastes behind it all, though Mal could be said to have a sensitive nose compared to most.

One would think, a man dressed in a finery such as he, would not stoop so low as to sit on a... well stoop... but there he was with that drawing pad of his placed neatly upon his legs. The pencil left in crease of torn away page, forgotten about as attention moved through the herd of humanity.

Sunlight, bright for even this hour of noon, danced off reflective walls of towering giant buildings which stood to reach towards God itself upon its throne in heaven. Concrete bones held the structures solid, and steel muscles promised a thousand upon thousand years before collapse. Yet, they called it a city, but for him, Malcom, there could be no other word but cage that was brought to mind. A cage made to contain people. To force feed them information through digital veins and propaganda. Yes, it may sound like he was a conspiracy theorist, but there was little theory about it these days. People lied, they always will, always have. There was no theory about it anymore, and with the internet being the largest resource of information there ever was, people could simply educate themselves... yet per usual they merely wanted to repeat what they heard.

Mal didn't like thinking like this. Wanted to push such thoughts to the back of his mind. Dig a hole, bury them, and let humanity crumble far faster then this city ever would. A lift of his chest raised ribs outward, before the man (who was not really a man) gave off a heavy sigh. Hand drifted in habit to the side of his bearded jaw, ran his fingers to smooth over those chestnut strands of hair, and shook his head as Mal once more brought himself to a standing position. Book tucked safely within the confines of his jacket pocket, pencil secured in the little elastic loop, Mal in his stance of six foot even moved into the throng of motion that filled the streets.

Maybe it was his own animalistic tendencies, to either protect himself, or the innocents around him but the man was on high alert. Maybe it was still not used to being in places like this, or maybe he would never be in truth fully used to it at all. He was not from here, and his place of birth was much different. Yet, like a wolf in a businessman's clothing, Mal could move among them all the same. All of this was simply explain what happened next, and why he was aware of it.

If you're paying attention...
If you attune yourself...
... and listen to that inner voice....

You can almost -hear- it when someone is looking at you in a crowd. You can feel the pressure against your ears of someone saying your name from across a building. Even humanity could taste the aggression of a predator in a crowd such as this. It was instinctual. It natural. Well, that was as long as you weren't blinded by your phone, or deafened by those little rubber plugs that fed music into ears.

And Mal? Well Mal could feel, taste, hear, something wasn't right.
What was high alert, instantly became code red.

The crowd to which he was apart of was standing at a curb, a red hand on the other side of the street glowing upon the crosswalk sign paused their movements. Cars whipped by most likely faster then they should be traveling in congested areas, but still.. the hairs on the back of his neck were standing upon end.

So, concerned with his own safety, his own life, Mal didn't register the gasp at first. Didn't realize what had happened until he saw the woman tumbling out into the street. Someone had pushed a woman hard enough to all but throw her. Off balance, she tumbled right off the curb and into the road. Like a fox about to scoop up a hare, painted of red car came barreling forward, and like the song unbidden before... the man's body moved before he could stop it.

Arms, strong as the oak trees that his hair was colored after, wrapped about the female. Thick trunk of body was turned to shield her from the impact, the crumpling of metal, the crack of skull against windshield. This unknown woman, victim, was not immune to bruises, nor was she umbrellaed from the splash of blood which flew. They together were thrown to the hard embrace of the asphalt that lined the roads, and the screams that came after from within the crowd.

Though dazed, perhaps concussed, no major damage would have been done to the female... though the man? The man didn't look so good, even as those dark eyes looked at her from beside the littered remains of headlights. His gaze sought out hers, and perhaps as she would come to find out later... it was that blood... that blood that let her hear him. It wasn't his voice. It wasn't an escape from his lungs. It was something deeper. His thoughts. His mind. His wolf song in his very soul.

She is alive...

Right arm twisted in a way that humans were not made for, the limb lay limp at his side, as once more Mal tried to rise to his full height of six feet. The first attempt failed, tumbling, falling, impacting, driving his already swollen and damaged left side of face back to the hot pavement.

Fuck me... move damnit. MOVE

That song inside of him torrented like a crescendo. Using still undamaged arm, placing his palm against broken glass, heated asphalt and...
[To be continued when a dance partner for this story is found]
@Lighthouse

[BunniesOfDoom]

The Morrigan

The Morrigan

Corvids are very territorial, you see. It's true. Of course, when people think of Crows, they think of murders and the large groups of them that they might see hanging around their homes or businesses, but truly that is only a momentary thing. Crows have their own territories and their own roosts that they return to and they defend them fiercely. It is not unheard of for a crow to kill an intruder in their territory, if they felt the need for it. They can be that territorial but crows are also very, very smart. They know who they might want to keep around and who could be very helpful to them in the long run. That was exactly how The Morrigan ran her city.

The Morrigan found herself lounging sideways in an arm chair, her thighs resting on the armrests and her feet in the air, slowly kicking up and down out of unison. Her black cloak of oily feathers cascaded around her form and flowed down onto the ground. She wore tight leather pants that tucked into shin high boots with a nice, thick heel at the end. A corset of blood red lace was tied tightly around her midriff with no shirt or blouse underneath it, leaving her upper chest and arms bare. Her unruly black hair sat in curls on the top of her head and her gray eyes gazed upon a book that floated just above her midriff. The page turned with a wave of her hand as she read.

She was in her office at the top floor of a 20 floor building. The whole floor was hers, so her office was quite large indeed. One whole wall was a solid piece of glass that gave her an exceptional view of the city beyond. Her desk faced away from that window, an old timely thing made of solid wood. Her desk chair was plushy and comfortable looking with wheels so she could move wherever she felt she needed to. Just before her desk was a resting ares with a love seat and an arm chair, separated from each other by a rather exquisite and expensive looking rug. A small library sat against the wall just beyond the resting areas. Her office was the center of her business and if one were to rip the rug out from under the chairs, they would find a very intricate and detailed circle of power carved directly into the wood below. If someone moved the library to the side, they would discover runes that ran along the wall next to the door, warding it from unwanted entry or leaving. This was her seat of power and she conducted her business in this office. All of her business.

Her reading was interrupted as she felt a vibration in her pocket and the familiar ding of her phone. She gave a small groan and reached into her pants to pull her phone out, tapping the screen once to see what the message was about. The message caused her to sit upright and pay attention. Her other hand snapped into a fist and the book closed. She waved that hand and the book floated off from her, joining the rest of the books in the small library. She kicked her feet off from the side and turned so she was sitting in the chair correctly, her heels making little clicks on the ground as they settled. “Hmm,” she purred as she examined her phone.

The message had a photo in it and was accompanied by one word, “Wolf”. She slowly stood from the chair, her meager five foot four stature making her seem frail or weak to some. She fiddled with her phone, pulling up the contact who sent her the photo. She smiled as she clicked the call button. The man answered on the first ring. “Huginn,” she purred into the phone, “It looks like you found me a plaything.”

“Yes, m'lady. We discovered him last night. Our birds have been following him for awhile. He hasn't shown any signs of being hostile or looking to take over your territory but he is a wolf.” He said the word wolf with enough venom to melt the phone in The Morrigan's hand. Huggin had developed a hated for wolves from a long standing feud he held with another named Fenrir. It was a long story, that one.

“You did wonderful, Huggin, as always.” She threw her free arm to the side and sickly black, oily strands of magic flowed from them to touch a part of the wall next to the door that did not have a small library in front of it. Runes along the wall lit up before a click was heard and the wall moved. It pulled forward a few inches and then processed to slide to the side and disappear into the other wall. Just behind it was a large stock of magical weapons, spell tomes, and what appeared to be a small alchemy area that was full of all kind of different ingredients that anyone could ever need to make potions or poisons. She walked towards the area and gazed at the weapon selection.

“Do we know anything about this wolf?” She asked into the phone as her hand hovered just over a sickly looking dagger that looked at home in the hands of an assassin.

“Negative, m'lady. We have asked around but no one seems to know who he is, or if they do, they are not providing the information.” Morrigan released a low growl at the thought that her contacts might be holding back important information from her. It had been some time since she last paid them a visit to 'renew' their information contract. Perhaps, it was time to pay them a visit again. Especially if Huggin felt they were possibly keeping secrets.

“I see,” she purred before she moved her hand over to the more modern weapons. Her hand fell on a Glock 19 and she picked it up. She released her phone that hovered just where it was without her assistance so that she could have use of both her hands. She ejected the magazine and gazed at the bullets inside. Lead. That won't do. She waved her hand and the magazine floated over to the wall, a different one rising from its place and floating over to her. She snatched it out of the air and examined it. Silver. She gave a small inhale, wolfsbane. Whether the werewolf was actually hindered by the use of wolfsbane was a toss up. Much like how there are humans who are not affected by poison ivy, there are wolves who are not affected by wolfsbane. However, it doesn't hurt to have it in supply, just in case.

She clicked the magazine in place and then grabbed a holster from the wall as well. She attached that to her hip and slipped the gun inside. She grabbed the phone once more and stepped away from the wall, giving her hand another wave. The black, oily magic once more flowed from her fingertips and touched the hidden runes, lightening them up again. The wall moved back into its place and hide away her magical arsenal.

“What is he doing now?” She asked Huggin on the phone. She didn't need to ask if he was watching the wolf. She knew her Huggin. He wouldn't let the wolf out of his sight for even a moment.

“He's- drawing.” He responded with boredom obvious in his voice.

The Morrigan laughed as she walked back to the lounge area of her office. It was a loud, piercing laugh like a crow calling out. The irises of her gray eyes began to expand and enlarge until they engulfed all of her eyes, turning them both inky black. “Drawing,” she said, her voice sounding as if three separate people were speaking at the same time. Her cloak flared out about her and the floor under her rug lit up under her feet. “Drawing,” she laughed again as the magic ignited. Her cloak turned into black ink and swirled around her, the force of the magic causing her unruly hair to rise on her head like she had just dove feet first into a swimming pool. “Interesting,” she purred and for a moment her form flickered, exposing three separate people before returning back to her singular form. The black ink condensed into a ball around her and with a sickening pop, she was gone. The floor's glow died down and soon her office looked just as it had before, not a single magical sign in sight.

A moment later, Huggin hung up his phone as it released loud, ear splitting screeching into his ear. Morrigan always forgets to end the call before her magic interfered with it. Strong magic, like teleportation magic, does not work well with electronics. So he didn't even bother. He just slipped his phone into his pocket just as a dot of light lit up on the ground next to him. Huggin had figured Morrigan would simply teleport right to him, so he chose to be on a roof, high above everyone else so that none would see her arrival. That dot of light quickly began to move about frantically. In its wake, it left glowing lines of runes and incantations. Once the whole design was finished on the floor, the black orb that The Morrigan had disappeared into formed into existence. It swirled like black oil in the air before it began to expand, the black ink shifting into black feathers. As the feathers condensed and became more tangible, Morrigan stepped out from the spell circle. Her strut was confident and she had a manic smile on her face. When all the oily blackness was nothing but feathers, it coalesced into her cloak and settled on her shoulders once more.

She stepped up the edge of the roof and gazed down. Huggin simply pointed to a man that was now standing from the stoop. Morrigan allowed her eyes to lock onto the moving figure. He was tall, handsome, and healthy looking.

“Oh,” she cooed as she bent at the hips, her hands locked behind her back as she did so. “Look at him. I'm sure he could be an alpha somewhere if he wanted to be.” She cocked her head to the side as her black eyes locked on Huggin. They still had not changed back to their original gray selves since before the spell. Huggin flinched ever so slightly under that gaze and it caused Morrigan's smile to go from manic to deranged upon seeing it. “Interesting that no one knows anything about him.” She turned those black eyes back to the wolf, her grin now cutting her face in two. “Let's see what kind of wolf he is, shall we?”

Just as the wolf man came to a stop at the crosswalk, The Morrigan let out a deranged giggle as she moved her hand from behind her back to in front of her. The sickly oil black magic flowed from her palm and she gave her hand a little push. Next thing to happen, a woman at the crosswalk went stumbling into the road as if someone had given her a shove. Huggin watched in silence.

The wolf had taken the bait. He threw himself forward and grabbed the woman. Morrigan's eyes widened in enjoyment as she let out of a small whoop of excitement. She could hear the panic from here, the screeching of the car's tires, the cries of the people, the sick crunch of bone. Her teeth shone in the sunlight as her grin spread. She turned her eyes back onto Huggin for a moment but he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes.

“Come Huggin, let's go meet our new toy,” and with that she stepped up onto the ledge of the roof before allowed herself to step right off. Her cloak bellowed out about her and slowed her fall until she stopped just before touching the pavement of the sidewalk below. Her heels clicked as she took the first step on the sidewalk, Huggin following her in his crow form. Her hands were back behind her back as she hummed a soft song to herself.

It didn't take them long to get the to crash scene. People parted for them without even realizing their presence. It was as if something in their very nature told them to move to the side and so they did subconsciously. The Morrigan walked a circle around the wolf, her eyes never leaving him as she did so. She continued to hum to herself and in her wake, intricate lines of light were left in the cement. She kicked car parts to the side that might be in her way, and when the circle was complete, she gave a small chuckle and squatted down in front of the wolf with her arms resting on her knees. Huggin came to settle on her shoulder, giving a threatening caw to the wolf.

“Oh, look at you, poor dear. Sweet of you to save that mortal girl though.” The Morrigan said was a remorseful look on her face. The humans continued their business around them, as if the circle had completely removed them from the area and out of their minds. It was as if the wolf man had never been there before. As EMS tended to the woman and the police began to try to piece together what had happened, no one seemed to notice them in their glowing circle. It was as if the circle removed them from reality itself.

She allowed her gaze to move along his form, taking in ever bump, scrap, possible broken bone. The remorseful look was gone in a flash, replaced by the same sick smile she wore when speaking with Huggin on the roof.

“You know, it's polite to introduce yourself when you enter someone else's home.” She reached down to rest a finger under his chin, helping him lift his head off the pavement and to look up at her. “But you are a wolf and they do tend to not have the best manners.”

[Lighthouse]

Mal was surrounded by the glittering of glass, and the rising forms of buildings. Below his hand, which curled its fingers through the shards, was the summer heated asphalt. In his lungs was the burnt rains of fumes and no doubt more than a few globules of blood. Though this is not where he really was. The dazed dark eyes, they saw her, saw the circle, took notice of the magic… but this is not what he was paying heed to.

No, it was naught these things.

It was the swelling inside a river. It was the crashing roar of waves against a beach, and the crack of thunder over the seas inside of himself. It was the storm to which his mind held to. It was anger. It was instinct. It was that thing inside with saber teeth and bright green as emerald eyes.

You see Fellow Traveler, it was the wolf to which Mal was paying mind to. Its growling hatred. Its howl of indignation at the taunting. Its cold as the first winter frost set of words…

Let me out.

Inside was not a cage built of iron nor silver. Nor was the man so foolish as to think such a beast could be contained by will alone. It was the waters, yes, that was the key to keeping such a thing that could not die in check. You drown it. As it gasps for air, you crash another curl of salt and liquid over its head… again…and again… and again. You could not kill it. You could not contain it. Though you could restrict it. You could push its head under each and every tidal wave so it could not breathe.

With wet fur and snapping jaws, from time to time it could reach up and drag you under with it, but such creatures were not born for distant shores. Or at least, they were not built for it as men and women were.

So, Mal still fought to push that thing down inside of himself.

It did not take inhuman hearing to listen to the scratching noise of shattered glass being dragged by his palm as it was pressed underneath him. It did not take the inhuman ability of scent to tell that still blood dripped from twisted left arm limb. It did not take inhuman vision to see the Wolf, or so he was called, bringing him to stumble to his full height at last.

These days people have forgotten that words have meaning.
These days people have forgotten that words have power.

…A wolf is an animal...

These days people have forgotten that midnight could only be held at bay by the nightlight as long as there was power to keep that tiny light a glow. These days people blinded themselves with delusions far thicker than those phone screens they all but push their noses to.

…And every animal will fight for survival...
With teeth. With claws. With anger and rage.
Every animal, even that of a little rabbit soul, could harvest the word doom in its eyes once pressed to corner space.

One eye that had been sealed shut by swelling, at last cracked wide to join its brother on the other side of his features, but it was not his deep oak color. Now that orb inside the skull was bloodshot, and obviously damaged, and yet was as gossamer green as a forest. Two creatures bound, twined, and sewn inside the same form looked out from the road damaged body.

Mal was healing slowly, slower at least then one would expect from his kind. Bits of glass did tumble out of his flesh to tinkle soft music at his feet, and flow of red did stem its tide. Though the arm did not snap back into place yet, and swelling only deflated as if a tire with slow leak.

Maybe it was the circle pushing him to places that were not real.
Maybe it was because the creature inside of himself was fighting now on two fronts.

Though the man knew the cause, others could not be so certain.

Left side of mouth showed edged teeth, while the right side showed the omnivorous nature of humanity as he spoke. It was words that hissed through that deformed mouth, but the southern charm of its patterns still showed through. Humanity was stubborn like that. Even under a curse they fought to keep themselves. Even under a disease of the soul, people tend to seek to retain even the smallest bits of themselves… even if it was their own voice.

“My apologies darling. If I knew there would be a welcoming such as this waiting for me, I would have threaded some flowers into my beard for you.”

Let me out.

“But right now, we both have a problem.”

Undamaged arm reached across himself to grab that damaged wrist, and with a sudden sickening yank there was a meaty pop of tendon and muscle as Mal jerked it back into socket. It was still broken, but mending all the same even if slowly.

No, Mal wasn’t so brave as to stop the growl at the sudden punctuation of pain it caused, but head rolled to the side offering a soft pop. Those eyes had closed in the action, but as the chin again settled flat, those eyes of different hues again opened.

Still useful hand lifted up, extended his index finger towards the girl… the very one that had been splashed with blood. The very one the man was ‘sweet’ enough to save, but only if this Witch knew that in the same action the innocent was damned all the same.

Because it wasn’t just Mal’s blood that had touched her. Because it wasn’t just a human’s virus that was spread. It was a curse of the grave. It was a curse of the soul, mind, and body.

People forget words have meaning and intent.
People forget words have power.

Curse.

Mal had forgotten that long ago and had to be reminded of it. The man had turned down the monsters that lived inside of his head. The man had tried to pour another drink until they quieted down. The man had even tried to find a way out of the word forever, and had failed. In fact Mal had pissed the thing inside of him off. Had forced it to change, forced it to evolve, made it find a way out of the corner that he himself had placed it in.

An animal will fight anyway it can to survive.
A virus will spread to propagate.
A monster will take whatever it needs to live.
“What the fuck?!” Among the rabble the EMT perhaps could not be heard, but the screaming… the sudden pitched howl of a woman… screaming as if her insides were being clawed out… could no doubt be noticed.

“LETMEOUT LETMEOUT LETMEOUT”

Mal did not move from that circle which had pulled him out of focus and away just as surely as Peter Pan stole children to the second star on the right. No, the man knew well enough not to test that which he didn’t know. The effect of touching such a power was not to be tested. Truth be told, he wouldn’t need to would he? Because she said it herself.

She had forgotten that words have meaning, just as once he had.

Her home.

Wolf song. Wolf. Not human. It wasn’t meant for just a ‘mere mortal’ as no doubt the Witch thought her kingdom full of. It had infected the poor bystander who started her day with a cup of coffee and thoughts of her date tonight.

Wolf song. A trembling symphony of vocals that could break the heavens and drive the rains away.

And Mal? Mal couldn’t drown it, because of this circle. It kept them out of sight. Kept them safe from prying eyes. Kept them away from her kingdom. Kept him out of phase with reality.

It took the leash out of his hands from anything outside of that line.

“The choice is yours O’ Queen of the Glass Kingdom.”

As if taking his time, the man lifted his once useless hand, slowly curling his fingers as bones at last began to mend themselves.

“You can remove this little puddle I’m in, and she goes back to well… being her… Or in about ten seconds, well… Something is going to come ripping out of her like one of those damned Alien movies. Then your home is certainly going to be a lot less quiet for some time.”

That wasn’t the full of it was it?

If she killed the woman, well, it would distract her even for a millisecond. Enough time for him to test the circle for escape, or she could lower that circle and the outcome was all the same.

A heavy sigh, body still mending.

“I do apologize for the trouble, but as you say, my kind are not known for our manners.”
Name purposefully not given.

Those eyes of his, both of them now, were moving towards that crow on her shoulder. They narrowed, and was that a tongue moving along the sharpness of his teeth? Could that winged thing hear it? Could it hear the beast? Could it smell hunger? Yes, it wanted to slaughter the Witch, but it wanted to devour the bird.

[BunniesOfDoom]

When The Morrigan came to this city, it was not with intentions of taking it over. She came as the Phantom Queen, intent to return the balance to this place. The creatures that go bump in the night were making it almost impossible for mortals to even live in this area and she had seen the future. If this was to remain, the mortals would eventually gather their senses, pull their heads out of their asses and turn on the mythical beings. This could not be allowed. Humans, though mortal as they were, outnumbered them 100:1. If a war did eventually break out, the world would be plunged into darkness and eventually it would come to its end. So, The Morrigan had come to set the score straight and to bring these foolish mythical beings into cull. It took her five years, five agonizing years to finally get the population of this city to recognize her greatness and accept that they should follow her words, however, by that time, she had all but instilled herself as the ruler of this city. No one dared to go against the Phantom Queen's wishes and so, for the sake of the world as she knew it, Morrigan accepted her fate and claimed her throne.

The Morrigan is a woman made up of many and one of those aspects took her role as ruler and holder of this land very, very seriously. So when she came to rule this land as her own, she left her mark upon in. The land now spoke to her, well, at least to that aspect of her and when multiple aspects were being pulled upon, it made it hard for The Morrigan to remain focused on the form that she took. Now, happened to be that moment for her.

As the man stood to his full height, The Morrigan remained where she was, staring straight ahead at where he was previously. It took her a moment to finally move, almost as if in a trance. Her head cocked to the side as if listening but it wasn't to the man. It was to the land under their feet. It called to her, warned her, spoke to her that trouble was brewing. Huggin peered at her for only a moment before locking his eyes back on the wolf, his feathers fluffing out to make himself look larger as his anger towards the wolf grew.

”The choice is yours O' Queen of the Glass Kingdom.”

That did it. Queen. Yes, she was a queen and now her land needed her to be that queen. Her eyes snapped up to the wolf and she stood suddenly. Huggin wobbled a moment as her form flickered. The black of her eyes dulled and for a moment it seemed like things would settle back to how they were. Then Huggin was thrown off her shoulder as she split. Within moments, The Morrigan was no longer one. Three woman now stood before him. One woman stood regal almost as if she was a queen that stepped out of the pages of an Arthurian storybook. She stood over six feet, her body cloaked in silken robes that flowed to the ground below. Her pale black hair glinting in the sunlight. The middle was not too much different from the original form, height and all, but there were now feathers that framed her face and instead of the crazy curls, she instead had a mass of long, inky black feathers as hair. She had a fierce growl on her face and her arms were crossed over her chest. The final form was of an older woman in casual clothes that seemed to have a gentle, motherly look on her face. The curls were obviously from her as her long black hair sat in a curly mess on top of her head and she stood at an average height, just a few inches short of the wolf man. All had their eyes on different. Huggin eventually settled on the royal woman's shoulder, looking like he belonged there all along.

The taller of the three raised her hand and the ground under their feet rumbled in response. The feathered one grumbled in annoyance as she fumbled to keep her balance. She turned black eyes onto the wolf again, the sneer never once leaving her face. ”Now you did it, didn't ya. Queen, my ass.”

The third woman turned her eyes to the angrier of the three and slowly shook her head. ”You know full well that this is her land. Let her do what she feels she needs to.” Her eyes slowly turned to the wolf and a soft smile crossed her lips. ”Sorry about all this. Honestly, sometimes we really just need to learn to just talk to people. I feel that would probably be better than these theatrics.”

The bird girl turned to the woman with a huff. ”Us- talk to him? He should have come and talked to us! How hard is it to just go, hey we're new here. Nice to meet you. But nooo, we now have to deal with my royalty over there cause someone” she turned her black eyes back on the wolf, ”couldn't bother with manners!”.

”Be silent!” The regal form finally spoke as her eyes turned to the angry one, her voice rumbling with the power of the earth she was summoning. ”Your useless bickering is distracting and if I were to fail because of these distractions, I would be sure to lock you away for a time for your crimes.” The angry feathered one huffed and looked away from the wolf but she didn't say anything more. It was obvious which one had the most power out of the three in this instance and at the moment, she had her full attention on the woman who was now clawing at her own chest. The ground under the woman shifted and seemed to liquefy. The EMT cried out in panic at the sight as his boot was quickly being drawn into the whirlpool of asphalt and dirt. The man scrambled away from the writhing woman, unsure of what his eyes were seeing.

”Huggin, if you would be so kind. We will be relocating her below.”. Huggin took one more nervous look at the wolf man before he hopped off the woman's shoulder and allowed his body to take his human form in midair. He landed on his feet next to the woman and crouched down to grab some of the swirling asphalt. He managed to pull as he drugged some of it up. With a grunt he grabbed a hold of the writhing woman and dumped some of the contents onto her hand. It disappeared under the whirling dirt and the woman cried out as she found that hand now trapped under the ground and struggled as she felt the pull of the earth beginning to pull her down. Huggin then turned to the other hand and did the same thing. At this point, the woman was all but feral, snapping at the air with bloody teeth and trying to free herself as she was slowly pulled into the whirlpool. With a final grunt, Huggin grabbed a large chunk of the shifting asphalt and dumped it onto the woman's midsection. The weight and force from the asphalt cause the woman to grunt out in effort but the battle was lost. She disappeared under the ground, leaving Huggin standing there as the EMT stared at him in astonished horror. Huggin looked to the man, gave a groan before diving into the dirt as well, following the woman below.

The regal woman turned to her other two parts and the wolf. Her face was bare of any strong emotion, though it did seem to hint at frustration with the quirk of her eyebrow and the frown line marked just along the side of her cheek. She snapped and the ground in their circle began to shift just as it had under the girl a moment ago. ”You have a choice to make, wolf. You may come willingly and assist us in handle of this matter. Or you may be forced. Either way, you will find that you will be coming with us.”

At the word forced, the feathered woman smiled and uncrossed her arms, her right hand settling on the gun at her hip. Her black eyes locked once more on the wolf, making it very obvious just how they intended to force him.

The regal form slowly began to sink below the ground. The more casually dressed one peered down at the gun and frowned. She gave a small shake of her head, an apologetic look to the wolf, then began her own descent under the ground as well. That left the wolf and the feathered one alone in the circle, the pull of the earth growing stronger and stronger around them.

”I'll give ya to the count of three.” Her teeth glinted in a vicious grin as she pulled the gun from it's holster.

Below, Huggin had used his body to pin the writhing woman to the ground. They found themselves in some kind of tunnel below, perhaps a piece of the sewer or subway system. The woman screamed out and tried to snap at Huggin who dogged her attacks easily. She paddle-wheeled her feet behind him in an attempt to throw him off, arching her back harshly as the magic of the wolf convulsed through her veins. The regal woman floated down from the roof of the tunnel, quickly followed by her other third. Both woman looked to the poor girl under Huggin. ”Perhaps cleansing the blood from her system would solve the issue. It's going to hurt, though I doubt more than it already is.”

Both landed quietly on the ground and began their approach of the woman. Time to get to business.

[Lighthouse]

Hope.

Four letters.
A single word.

Humanity had known it, strived for it, and based their supposedly indomitable spirit upon it.

Hope that their lives will turn around. Hope that their children would grow without knowing malice or discontent. Hell, the short lived bastards even named some of their next generation that very thing.

Hope.

Four letters.
A singular lie.

Yet, despite the knowledge of this disheartening truth, it was that very meaning to which shook the foundation of green hues at the back of Mal’s vision. The color of forests turned to that of shades of oak once more, and as lips sealed themselves into a grim line, no longer were there sharp teeth to display.

Hope.

Four letters.
A single purpose.

… lasted long enough within him to take a breath, calm his mind, and take stock of the situation. No longer did that monster inside his head and body scratch at its confines, for it too wished to be free of imprisonment. That much should be clear by the infliction to which the bystander of a brave act was now suffering.

The man and monster stilled their joined body as the Lady of the Glass Towers split, and pulled apart like a childs taffy. It wasn’t with amazement, nor with awe, but with Hope… that Mal and his Wolf watched this happen.

Though they had been down this road before, and quickly that light had been quarantined and snuffed from existence as easily as said child could pull apart a sweet treat.

Hope, a singular foolish word in the dictionary.

Choices long ago had been stripped from the capture of heart and hand from Mal, and so the current circumstances meant not despair, or even doubt. For you see, forever was a word made from ink and letters just as the other one, but try as he might… the man had never been able to smudge that ink which had tattooed into his very being. It was not by drinking the blood of virgins or devouring of hearts that it scarred him. It was not with promises of power, or even idiotic claims of good deeds such as jumping in front of a car. No, it was something worse than even the trickery afoot with the word of Hope. Whereas now Mal could keep the thing inside at bay, if a death marker were placed upon him, it would be him that would be inside. It would be the monster pushing his head underneath the waves… again…and again… and again…

Death would not be the end of him, but it would be the end of his control.
Oh, how he wished that the gun could put him to rest. How the scent of that wolfsbane, which indeed would prove effective against him, smelled of promises. Though the man knew the truth, because hope was a word given up on… even if small fragments of childish belief could still be born inside of him from time to time. So no, there was no resistance. There was no wishing upon a star to be taken away to a land far away from this. Neverland had no place for him it would seem.

There was hesitation though. A moment of consideration that would take less than a fraction of a moment. Bare hand moved out, palm outward towards the edge of where that circle would permeate the air, and almost… almost touched magic once again. No, she was prepared, the gun and poison were markers of this.

Fine.
His mind whined in childish submission.

It was not heaven from which Mal fell, nor were there any wings upon his back to be sundered away, but fall into that hole all the same he did after a step forward. It was not with a super hero’s power stance to which he landed either, for such fairy tales just like a world of lost boys were never his birthright. Instead the abused body struck the ground, and a careless crack of leg could be heard to absorb the impact of the already damaged structure.

Perhaps it was self punishment, or flagellation as the word may be deemed to be. Though this new fracture was taken upon himself with only a soft growl of agitation. Forever was a word for him, and this too shall pass.

“Move away from her bird. Let her be.”

His voice was not worried, hurried, and seemed earnest in its tone. Now he could feel the Wolf. Could feel it riding the course of the woman’s heartbeat. Could feel it tearing apart the genetic material to make its own.

To make one understand what was happening would be a simple matter. Take a colony of ants. A single one of those little insects could bite, tear, and do damage yes … true… though it wished to serve the colony. It served a higher purpose. Without that source, it would wander and die. It would starve. It could not repopulate, nor could it nest into the earth.

A threat yes, but not an origin. Not a core. Like the man, it had no hope.
This time there was no rising to his feet, merely remaining there with that half kneeling pose, and eyes the color of bark closed behind his lids. Wolf Song. Could they hear it? Could they understand it? There was the soft knocking of a wooden hull against the pier as gentle waves lapped against nearby shores. There was the song of birds above the forest. There was the smell of pine and the chill of northern climates. It was that picture, that very one that had been drawn, and torn from the book that still remained within his breast pocket.

The man pushed the head of the beast below the line of the water.
Stared into its snapping jaws as it submerged.

Though that link, through that core, through that nest that he was in fact… the man focused. Not through magic, nor through power or such a foolish word as hope. No, through the curse. Through damnation. Through wounds. Through blood. Through bone. Through himself, for in truth drowning the beast time and time and time again… was as if drowning himself… time and time again…

A thin line of water that smelled suspiciously like salt trickled from the corner of his lips, but still did he breath. Still did he remain kneeling before the Bird and Queen.

The woman would spasm, flail, and gargle. Salt water in the flow of tides would be vomited from her mouth. They could watch it like tears as it gushed up through nasal cavities. No, this was not a pretty sight, but when ever had such a thing like drowning been a thing of beauty?

For you see, while the word Forever was etched into him, it was not so for the mundane creature that had been infected. While a fever was an indication of the body fighting off a foreign pathogen, this… well… as far as Mal knew… this was the only way to treat this particular ailment. Just as that word had been lost well before now, the little show he was putting on wasn’t the first rodeo for him either.

At last, tired, without air, and unable to struggle further, the thing inside a much frailer body would let go to drift off… would no longer be able to hold on, and the man’s eyes opened. He could feel it… see it still like a day dream…. slowly sinking lower, lower, and lower into that black depths to which he imagined.

A ragged gasp. A breath true and clear of that which his blood could wrought, once more brought her own blood the needed oxygen. Once more the woman was clean, or at least cleaned from the toxic inhabitation of a Wolf that should not be.

“Malcome, but I prefer Mal.”

A soft grunt, lifting himself to stand once more from that pose. Though the slightly bent knee still showed it was sore, no longer was it fractured. Oak eyes turned towards the Queen and the Bird, but the true hate… the forever kind of hate… was manifested for the one that could have wings.
He hated birds.
Hated them for their freedom.
Hated them for their laughter in the trees.
Hated them for what they did to him.

And yet, from that pull of making his stance clear, the man managed a smile, and turned chest fully towards the woman who no doubt still carried the gun.

“At your service.”

[BunniesOfDoom]

The Morrigan is old, some would even say ancient. Tales of the Phantom Queen were passed from one Celt to the other. Children were taught of the three Morrigan and warriors prayed for their guidance just before battle. Many mortals thought of her as a god but in truth, a mortal would think any being that seemed to never die and who used magic to be a god and for a long while, she believed she too was a god. That was until she came toe to toe with Cú Chulainn. The man was a demon and when he practically ripped her apart with Gáe Bulg, she had no choice but to flee.

She left Ireland and found herself traveling the world for a century or two. During those travels, she came across Huggin who decided to join her after his previous master was devoured by Fenrir.

The two of them eventually found themselves in the new world and came to settle into the wilderness. That was, while there was wilderness to be settled into. Humans populated and spread quickly and it did not take long for them to spread their reaches to every inch of the new world and begin cutting down the wilderness. In the beginning, Morrigan and Huggin defended the areas and kept them safe, however, as science advanced and superstition died, they pushed further and further into her territory until Morrigan had no choice but to abandon it all together.

They wandered then. It wasn't until Morrigan got a vision of devastation that she finally took on her “godly purpose” once more. Now, she found herself ungrounded, staring down at the wiggling girl as Huggin tried to keep her under control.

As the wolf dropped down onto the ground below and a sickening Crack sounded from the impact, the feathered third let out a laugh. She landed on the ground next to him, running her hands along her feathers as she holatered her pistol. ”Smooth,” she said as he turned her eyes onto Huggin. However, when the man told Huggin to get off the girl, her brow raised. ”Bird,” she asked in disbelief. No way this wolf was going to be so rude to Huggin, not her Huggin. She went to day something to him but her eyes caught the regal thirds’ gaze and she bit back a sarcastic comment. She just crossed her arms and waited to see what would happen next.

Huggin looked up from the girl for a moment to shoot a snarl at the man. That was a mistake as the girl threw her head up and her forehead caught him right in the side of his nose, causing an instant trickle of blood to flow from his nose and drip from his chin. He let out a surprised yell of pain as he looked back to the girl who renewed her fight at the scent of his blood that was now dripping down on her neck and upper chest area. The regal thirds rested her hand on Huggin's shoulder. He looked up at her and at the sight of her stern look, he released the woman and slowly stood up. She had made a choice to allow the man show what he could do.

When the woman began to gurgle and salt water began to spill from her mouth and nose, the three women turned to face the man in unison. He could invoke water and not only invoke it but spawn it within the depths of this woman's own body. That was quite an ability and the three women stepped close together, preparing to once more merge. This man was no normal wolf. This show of strength proved that all too well. Even Huggin was now stepping up in front of the women as if to be a barrier between them and the wolf.

When the woman took a deep breath and coughed, the Morrigan three looked to her. The magic of the wolf had left her. She was mortal once again. They were not sure how, but he had somehow used that magic to remove the curse from her. in that instance, all three woman reached out for each other and there was a low crackle as they melded once more into one being, the gun tumbling down to the ground as they did so. Her black feathered cloak came to settle around her shoulders. Huggin grabbed the gun almost the instant ot hit the ground. He never once took his eyes off the man as he did so.

When the man introduced himself to them and proclaimed that he was at their service, the woman on the ground began to stir. She slowly began to sit up, coughing a bit in the process. “Where am-” she didn't get a chance to finish her question when Morrigan threw her hand out and her black oily magic flew from her fingertips and encased the woman's head. There was a muffled scream from the woman as she clawed frantically at the orb of black ink. Morrigan clenched her fists and then there was a sickening crunch from within the orb. The woman grew silent and her body went limp. Morrigan still never took her eyes off of the wolf man in front of her. Did she have to kill the girl, probably not but at this moment, there was a possibly dangerous man standing directly in front of her and she wanted absolutely no distractions. So the woman had to go.

“Mal, was it?” she asked as her magic dissipated from the girl. ”Last I checked, werewolves cannot cleanse someone from the wolf curse. What are you?”

She stepped up and placed Huggin behind her, her own magic causing her hair to flutter as if caught in a strong breeze. ”And please, no lying to me. If you lie, I'll have to kill you.”

[Lighthouse]

There is a swelling storm, and Mal was caught up in the middle of it. It wanted to pull him downward into the squall. It wanted to tell him that he was wrong about everything. It wanted to tell him with bellows of thunder that every event in his life was the very result of Mal himself.

What are you?

Dark eyes, all the darker still below the surface of the ground in this grave to which he was forced into, moved to the now limp body of the woman. His attention moved at last from the face of demise, towards that of the ‘Queen’. Then, it moved to the creature which obviously served her by will and power.

It ran through his veins all the more bitter.

What are you?

It may seem like a thousand years, an hour, or much too long, but with that deadly black eye of the weapon pointed in his direction, Mal responded in the matter of only a moment. A moment filled with those self doubts.

Because, the truth was, the man had no fucking clue.

“Closest thing I can answer with, or at least without lying to you, is that I am a Ship of Theseus Paradox. I am -not- a Werewolf. I am -not- a shadow underneath a bed. And also, I can’t do that…”

A hand motioned without turning his eyes towards the now dead thing slumped at a nearby corner of the wall.

“…to either of you ”

Fear did not fill him but hesitation did. No sudden movements now, slowly, carefully, and clearly within view the man took hold the edge of his jacket and pulled it open. Below against his chest was no leather strapped pistol, or even knife, and bare fingers slowly… clearly.. dipped into one of the various pockets tailored into the fabric. Though it shined like silver, I can assure you, the flask was pulled free and was made merely brushed stainless steel.

The cap was casually unscrewed, and as always Mal seemed to move as if all the time in the world was on his side. It was lifted to his lips, the pungent smell of Honey Jack Whisky remained on his lips as it was lowered. Soft pink tongue of his collected the flavor from the lower of his two, and while those oak hues held the woman… the man could not help but glance towards the Bird with all the hatred inside him held for such creatures.

“I can see that the Lady has at least heard of it, but for you? Well I’ll explain it in slow simple terms so perhaps you can follow along. Hope I can manage before you see something shiny and go rushing after it like a cheerleader dropping her panties for an American football player.”

The careful process of opening his jacket, the casual manner of replacing the flask to its hidden compartment just below the outline of that drawing book.

“A museum gets a relic of a boat.” His finger twirls in the air as if spinning yarn upon its touch. “Over time some of the boards rot. So, they get to work and replace those planks. More time passes, and they have to replace rusted parts. At which point is it no longer the ship, but rather something new?”

Chest lifted, ribs pushed outward against the flesh, and further expanded against the front of his jacket before the sigh was released. A heavy thing, a tired thing, a thing with so many words that could be used to describe, but the true answer? Well there weren’t many truths to that these days.

“I’m not a Werewolf, because that is a single word. I have a Wolf inside of me. Yes, that word may have fit at one point, but over the years and through my attempts at killing the bastard…”

In this hollow space below the world to which humanity treads above, his hard soled shoes (Never tennis shoes) clacked against the ground like muffled claps. To the woman, the slumped figure, Mal did stray. Crouching down beside it, gentle hands took hold of limp wrists, and placed them delicately in that lap that never would bounce a child while playing horsey again.

“... all I have left is to wonder where that line was. What and when exactly was it that it became something different? What or when exactly did I get changed in the pursuit?”

A slow shake of his head, his hands now covering the still and cooling touch of the corpse, as his gaze now fell to solely the remains for just one of those moments which Mal seemed to always drag his feet through.

“May you find your ocean. May you find your field. May you find your peace.”

A shake of his head, a senseless murder, a loss of light, life, and soul. All because the man had dared to save her life.

Murder, not the kind that meant the collection of the bird's kind, showed clear in his eyes as he looked at the creature near the Queen. Yes, even if it wasn’t with words, a promise was made. It may be the Wolf, or it may be the man, but at some point those hollow bones would be ground beneath his teeth.

No threat however was there when his gaze moved to the woman with the gun. No, Mal didn’t fancy a black ball surrounding his skull. Didn’t even fancy feeling his own bones snap.

“And so I answer your request. I’m the damned fool who made himself into what you saw, and her name by the way was Bethany. Bethany Townsend. Not that either of you asked.”

Rising to his feet, the man stood tall, wounds all but healed, all but mended. The shell of humanity once more clean, well save for the drying blood upon his skin. Save for the wounded sense of another murder upon his hands.

What are you?

The Wolf, that was not a Wolf anymore, laughed in the hollow chambers of his mind. Laughed with fangs. Laughed with greed. Laughed with knowledge that even this answer could not fully answer the question Mal asked himself so many times.

“To the unspoken question, I didn’t cleanse anything. Not in the way you mean. She wasn’t changing, but rather something inside of her was growing like a parasite. I told you from the start, it would come ripping out of her. It’s not a curse anymore, not in the way you’re thinking by the word Werewolf. It’s a cancer, forming its own cells, and structure.”

A step forward towards the woman, always that casual manner, never threatening, nor shying away from that black eye of a pistol that stared him down.

“Though, if you pull that trigger, in this confined bit of space? Well, you might just get your answers. In the least you’ll have a better understanding through experiencing first hand the effects. Better way to learn I suppose then any words I can provide. Could give a damn less about that…”

Motion towards the (Not raven or crow, but simply…) bird.

“However, I’ve seen enough pretty things die today. So, how about you lower that, and we just go about being as friendly as we can be?”

[BunniesOfDoom]

The Morrgan's gray eyes were locked on the wolf, she had not blinked for even a moment. She followed his every move, his every gesture, hung on his every word. When he moved his eyes to the woman she had just rid herself of, he gave off small hints of distaste. She allowed her eyes a moment to flicker to the girl's corpse on the ground before returning them to the wolf. Did she have to kill the girl? Surely she had not done anything wrong. That wasn't the problem, however.

The problem was that there was this mysterious wolf who now stood before her, showing skills she had never seen before and if a fight were to break out in this tunnel, there would be one side the girl would decide to join if she chose to interfere and that side was not Morrigan's. She did feel a slight ping of guilt as Mal explained himself, saying how he just was not the man he had once been before, almost to the extent of being unsure if he could truly call himself the original then explained he could not do to them what she just did to the girl. It was most likely that he was lying to her but it still made the motherly aspect of herself hold a pang of guilt and sorrow for the lost soul. However, the deed was done and they could not undo it. Not without extensive equipment and circles, which she did not have here in this tunnel.

When he pulled the flask out of his jacket and opened it, The Morrigan took a deep breath. Her magic pulsed for a moment and her senses clung to the smell of the liquor. She released a slow exhale and an image of the very liquor he took a sip from danced behind her gray eyes. Whiskey, aged and sweet. She released a harsh huffed to get the smell out of her nose as she slowly relaxed her stance. No man who was looking to do battle would pull a flask from his jacket and take a sip. Perhaps, she had over reacted to a degree. Oh well. It was a mortal woman. She had, at most, another thirty years left to her life before she would perish. There was no reason to condemn herself for a such a short life getting cut shorter than it was intended. Humans didn't even live to be two hundred.

When Mal addressed Huggin, he tensed his shoulder and flexed his fingers on the gun. His finger was not near the trigger, yet, but he had not exactly turned the gun's safety on either. When he made a comment about how Huggin would run off to find something shiny, the man snarled and his finger twitched every so lightly, begging to be placed on the trigger. ”You dare?!” However, before he could get too upset, The Morrigan wrapped her arms around him and placed a hand on his cheek, a possessive stance to make it very clear that Huggin was her and she would not allow him to be tormented just because this wolf boy had a thing against him. What was that thing, it was anyone's guess. But it was about that time she brought it to an end.

”Let's leave my sweet Huggin be, shall we?” She asked as her eyes flashed black and black feathers quickly grew out of and shrunk back into her skin along her cheeks and jawline before turning each curl into a long, glistening feather then allowing the curls to return back to their original selves. The angry bird third was very much aware and she was not pleased. This was her Huggin, hers, no one else's and she does not like to share her things. It's very obvious at this point, a particular aspect was more dominant than the others, and the feathered third was not too fond of the wolf.

The Morrigan kept her arms tightly around Huggin's shoulders as the man made his way to the dead girl. She watched, almost disinterested until he crouched and rested the girl's hands in her lap. He continued then, questioning where the line was drawn and when the change actually happened. The Morrigan let out a small laugh before muttering a quite from Alice in Wonderland, ”at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then. We've all been there hun. You think ones as old as us have remained the same through all this time?” She shook her head as she rested her chin on Huggin's shoulder, watching the wolf with annoyance. This was becoming tedious. When he gave them the name of the girl, Morrigan threw her arms into the air, much like a preteen in a bout of frustration.

”Who cares? She asked in annoyance. ”I have never seen a wolf so mopey! She was mortal. She had maybe another twenty years left of her life, tops. A human life, for people like us, it's a blink of an eye. You, wolf, Mal thing. How old are you? I bet it's older than her, probably by a few decades, yeah. And guess what, you'll live decades more. Centuries if you play your cards right. She's going to just be a forgotten memory, nothing but a nameless, faceless mortal you passed in your life, just like all the rest.”

The Morrigan released Huggin and stomped over to the girl, resting a foot on her chest and leaning forward. She put her face in front of Mal's and sneered at him. ”This mortal played her part. She should be thankful to have been of use in the service of us. Warriors fall every day and she played her part well. She gave us you.” She was tempted to just crush the girl under heels. Her anger and frustration on the matter was all too evident. However, it wasn't so much Mal that was causing her so much frustration, though he was the target of her words. It was the motherly third. She spoke softly of how life was precious and they were not just the goddess of war but also of fertility and birth. She kept condemning them on taking a life so easily and that there surely was a better route than to just kill the girl out right. It was driving her insane. Maybe if she just burned the body to ash, the discussion would be ended and she could finally move on past it. She threw her hand out and black flames burst on her palm. Her eyes were locked on the girl's body but she couldn't bring herself to burn the corpse. Something kept her hand firmly in place and no matter how much she tried to bring her own will into being, another kept it locked firmly in place.

It was when Mal said he had seen enough pretty things die today that The Morrigan cried out in frustration and extinguished the flames. She threw her head back and released a roar of frustrated annoyance ”Fine! Fine, we'll bring her back. Happy now?” She dropped her head, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. ”Stupid girl. Stupid Anand. Always worried about stupid mortals. She waved a hand and the black magic condensed under the corpse, rising it off the ground. ”Huggin. Go home and prepare. Reveal the circle, get,” she paused a moment and stared at the woman, as if weighing her, ”a deer along the way. I believe a deer would be equivalent enough in weight. I shall begin the circle here. We can't be carrying a dead body along the streets and I doubt, what was your name again, she said as she looked to Mal before waving her hand in dismissal, ”Nevermind, doesn't matter. I'm sure you can't fly all too well, wolf.”

She began to walk in a circle on the ground, just as she had before when they were on the street, however, these steps were more complex. It was almost as if she danced with her foot placements. Each step causing lines to form and connect to the previous. Huggin watched her for a moment, his mouth open in a slack jaw look of shock, then he turned his eyes on the wolf and sneered. ”You harm even a single feather on her and I will hunt you down, tear you to shreds, and scatter your remains to every corner of the earth.”

The Morrigan let out a laugh without even pausing on her work. ”As if he could even attempt it. Leave Huggin. You have a task to get to.” With that, Huggin turned to his bird form and flew off to find an exist and get to the work he was asked to do. All the while, Morrigan continuing her smooth dance, the circle under her feet growing more and more intricate as the body hovered just over her shoulder, out of the way and safe from the flow of magic that was quickly growing in intensity. ”Such a pain.” She muttered.

[Lighthouse]

The hunter with blue eyes.

---

Vampires. Werewolves. Ghosts. Demons. Fey. Goblins.

Monsters right?

They slaughter the innocent, eat hearts, make crossroad deals, and trade souls like friends sharing popcorn during the new superhero movie in the theater.

How many had they taken over the years? How many lost, deprived, sent to hell, or taken from this existence without a choice?

---

This city was like so many others, and it was dressed in the gossamer gown of ignorance to the existence of anything beyond the frappuccino in a random businessman's starbucks cup. Though we’ve covered that, haven’t we Fellow Traveler, and yet for a man like him the thought still occurred time and again. Many of these people were aware of the newest update about the viral TickTock star, or the new delicacy that could be found at some vegan hotspot, but how many of them knew the actual truth?

How many of them knew what it was like to read Mark Twain, delve into the mysteries of Pictographs created by ancient civilizations which believed thunder to be the voice of a god? How many of them knew that their days were numbered, and how many believed in their own deaths as part of a natural cycle? Not many imagined the answer to be. Not many at all.

Shoes moved along with the pace that the crowds kept, his chin kept low, and the top of his head with its ink black hair kept to the gentle breeze that pushed down through the canyons of man made towers. Eyes, the color of blue, flicked this way and that as eager as candle light, and the glare of the fading sun in the distance cast hard shine across the glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose.

Like the others who passed by the homeless and their cups for change, this particular judgemental bastard moved along without much heed to their fate. Like the others who passed by the dank alleyways that branched off from the roads like cancerous trash filled veins, no attention was spared to their mysteries.

No, unlike most that his mind would mock, chide, or admonish, this was not a do-gooder. This was not a kind soul. This was not an innocent.

---

Ghouls. Zombies. Witches. Warlocks.

How many spells were cast in world history? How many skulls are crushed by void black spheres that wrap around someone's head to forever silence them?

Monsters, one and all, right?

---

The man, who bore a jacket that may look familiar in tone had the Queen but a glimpse of it, was named James, and as stated before, James was not a nice person. Even the way he moved seemed methodical, purposeful, and without err in a single stride. Every muscle below his clothing worked in tandem with his ligaments and heartbeat. Every action with reason, sanity, and determination.

Yet, it has not always been so.

There was a time, in the not so distant past, where a serial killer came across something that would not die. There was a night when neither blade, nor bullet, nor poison would end a man’s life that after inspection had no heartbeat.

That was the day that James had his second birth.

Oh, that term was used by bloodsuckers and wolves alike, but neither of those terms fit the man in the jacket with the shine on those lenses. Neither of those things could hold a candle to what he was, remained to be, and would be up to the moment of his demise.

Because all those things? Every single fucking one of them that were listed above? They held no candle, no matter how dimly lit, to the fact that humanity was in truth the real monster. For the sake of power they threw children from the tops of ziggerauts. They bled out lovers and worshippers into holy chalice, to seek power or eternal life.

I mean shit, they’ve gone and all but killed the entire fucking planet with their fumes, chemicals, and plastics. They poisoned the oceans, the sky, and even mountains were littered with frozen corpses. And why all of these sins? Why do any of it?

For power. For greed. Hell, just to do it.

No, the things that go bump in the night weren’t the real things to be feared. No my friends, it was humanity. It was the literally god damned lineage of Adam and Eve. Yes, they were the real beasts with triple six’s carved on their forehead. They were the disease that could end planets. They devour their own youth en masse in numbers that would make a Satanist Nun blush, and if you think that wrong? Well, take a look at our history Fellow Traveler. We’ve sparked wars that engulfed the planet with our hate. We built a clock that ticks down to the moment we expect to launch computers with payloads that could obliterate entire countries with radiation.

Monsters, right?

There is a place in this city, one he did not know, did not need to research or even cared to give a second thought to. Because it didn’t matter the location, or the scenery, or who owned it when or why the abandoned factory still stood.

None of it mattered, save for one simple fact.

Order must be kept.

The creatures needed to be reminded from time to time just who were the real Reapers. They needed to be taught to fuck right off back to their pathetic little holes filled with fear, piss, and their suffering.

Order must be kept.

Those who sought to live forever, must be shown that everything dies. By time, gun, sword, flame, water, or any means necessary. With only the height of five ten, he looked a paltry thing compared to some. Yes, to some the sight of him could be almost funny couldn’t it? Like a meal just standing there … waiting to be taken.

But James was a human, and he knew the truth while others did not.

Order must be kept, and the creatures needed to be taught time and again who was on the top of the food chain when it came to destruction and death. They must be reminded who the real fucking monsters were.

---

---

The oak eyed man with a green eyed Wolf inside.

They were not so far away as Mal would have liked, if he had known just what was in that abandoned building within the city, but at the moment there were other concerns. The moment that light went out, there was one last flicker of green behind almost reflective visage. Of course, the man had to bite back a retort at the Queen once more, as the woman showed almost a childish tantrum of 'fine we'll fix what we did' type mentality. Though Mal had done that for most of his life, keeping emotions bottled up, contained, trapped behind. People say it was unhealthy, but when he was infected with that curse? Well, the practice had made him rather good at keeping that Wolf inside of him... well... inside of him.

Cool attention in the near pitch flicked from the woman to the bird all the same, ears pricking against their voices in the darkness. Nose furling nostrils to keep track of their scents. It was times like this that at least the thing inside of him had a use, a purpose more then simply devouring. It made it easier on him, well, made it trivial to be honest.

Okay okay... so he couldn't help himself completely. One of his bare hands lifted up and offered a little wriggle of his fingers towards the bird.

"See you later Polly, loved our little chat. Remember to stay focused now, I believe in you."

The thing about learning to draw, about making sure every line was in its place, it effected the memory believe it or not. The dance of hers even in the gloom was being memorized, or in the least attempted to. Give Mal a chance, and no doubt the very images to which he had witnessed would later be doodled down. Reinforced within the trap of his mind.

What would happen to a man who could not die, if one tried to cast a 'come back to life spell' on himself? Curiosity pricked in his mind, rather feline for a Wolf, but the concept was intriguing all the same. Though wasn't that how all of this started Mal? Didn't curiosity in truth not kill the cat, but rather fuck it up and twist it into something else? Yes, perhaps not the best idea.

"I don't want to distract you, but thank you."

There he stood waiting, quietly, in the dark as she danced and drew upon fabrics, threads, and powers that never could the man hope to hold.

---

---

The hunter with blue eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to end you."

It had only taken five minutes, and now a torso was on the ground in front of his shoes. Still alive, well, as alive as the vampire could be. The head that was still on its shoulders spit up blood, hissed, and rolled in pain. It's limbs here and there, and a bloody hatchet that had been pulled from beneath his cloak added to the display. James had dismembered it with quick efficacy, but did not finish it as stated.

"What I'm going to do is this."

Crouching down over the writhing grisly scene, the man took a handkerchief from his pocket and removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose. Slowly, carefully, he started to wipe away the red that had splashed across the lenses.

"I'm going to pour kerosine over you, and set you on fire. Not enough that it turns you to ash."

He held the lenses up towards the window to catch only a faint glint of light to make sure all specs were cleaned.

"But enough so you feel it. Dunno how long it will take till you start coming back around, I figure it depends on when you last ate, but I'll check on you in a few hours. Then we're going to play again, and again, and again."

A smile now as those lenses were placed back onto his face, so he could see the creature moving back and forth.

"Nothing should live forever my friend, and since you thought you could? Well. We're going to make it so you know what mistake you made. We're going to play till you understand not only is it right that things die, but they should happily accept it when the time comes."

From his pocket now, a silver ... no stainless steel flask... look familiar Fellow Traveler? Looks exactly like someone else's, but instead of Honeyed Whiskey, this one had the smell of flammability. It glugged its fluid across the rolling worm like form.

"Order must be maintained.."

The hunter struck a match and looked into the flame, before with that simple smile dropped it so he could feel the heat of glowing bloom. It was beautiful, wasn't it James?

"Now, in the meantime, I smell my Wolf nearby. Feel free to keep screaming till your lungs give out. They'll come back of course, so no worries. You wanted all the time in the world after all didn't you my friend? Such fun we'll have till I get bored."

Yes, a monster wasn't he?

[BunniesOfDoom]

The Morrigan ignored the madness as Mal made a comment towards Huggin. She could even hear a faint caw of protest from her sweet Raven as he went flying through the tunnels to perform her tasks. She just gave a small huff and a shake of her head, keeping her eyes on the lines below her as she worked. However, when he thanked her, she paused her motions to look at him. She contemplated a moment before giving a small shrug of her shoulders, a small smile crossing her face. “Morrigan,” she said before she peered up at him from under her lashes for a moment before returning back to work, “We are known as The Morrigan but you may call us Morrigan and please, don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you.” the circle was finally coming to a finish when her pace slowed to almost a stop. Like a pulse of her heart, she could feel the call of the land on her soul. Her eyes dulled, her movements having slowed to a snail’s pace. If one were able to peer behind those eyes and see within, they would see a meeting taking place.

The three women stood in a circle, each facing each other. The regal third had her arms crossed over her chest. “We cannot ignore the call. Blood has been spilled.”

“Blood spills every day,” the feathered third said with a scowl. “This is no different. Just because it's a little more blood than we'd like, it's still just a vampire. They probably pissed off another vampire and are learning a serious lesson.”

The motherly third remained silent as she listened to the two bickering.

“We long ago make it a law that this much blood would not be allowed to be spilled in our territory. It is why she calls to us now. Our law is being broken.”

The feathered one threw her arms in the air. “Oh no you don't! I'm already reviving this girl. We'll deal with this later. A vampire can lose that much blood. They aren't going to die. We can figure it out after all this is done. This teleportation ring is going back home and that final.”

The regal thirds looked appalled to have been spoken to like that and she uncrossed her arms, getting ready to yell at the feathered one, but before she could, the motherly third stepped between the two of them and rested a hand on both shoulders.

“Badb,” she said as she looked to the feathered third, “perhaps you should wrangle in your temper and not speak to her like that. You know it gets us nowhere.” And then looked to the regal one, “Macha, a vampire will survive this much blood loss. It's noted and we'll get to the bottom of it, I promise but right now we need to focus on the task at hand. Huggin will be gathering our things and be waiting on us. Once we handle this woman, we can seek out whoever broke our rules and make sure it doesn't happen again, yes?” She looked from one to the other and both thirds sighed and relaxed their aggressive stances.

“Fine,” the feathered third said as the regal one spoke, “Very well.”

“Good,” the mother third said as she pulled her hands off her sister's shoulders and clapped them together. “Let's finish this up.”

Back on the outside, her eyes brightened once more and she gave her head a small shake. She continued her little dance and with one more step, the circle was completed. The circle glowed brightly, flashing for a moment before condensing down to a blinding white sigil on the ground.

“There,” she said as she took one more look at the completed design. She gave it a small sweep of her eyes for any little hiccups but the circle looked perfect. So with a grunt of acceptance, she lowered the corpse on the circle. “Time to go.” She said as she stepped into the circle as well, her cloak bellowing out behind her. The magic from the circle was almost electric as she stepped into it. It caused her skin to tingle. Teleportation magic was no simple spell. The sheer amount of magic in that small circle could power a large home for a month.

Her cloak melted into black liquid that flowed around the circle as she turned to face Mal. “Any time now.”

They had more things to handle. The vampire was obviously being tormented and that was a break of the laws she had set. Even if the vampire wouldn't die, the sheer amount of blood he was losing now, it was torture plain and simple. The only person allowed to torture anyone was her. A small smile crossing her face as she thought of the torment she could put the rulebreaker through. There would be punishment for sure.

As Mal stepped into the circle and her magic began to condense around them to teleport them back to her office, there was a pulse in her chest. Something was happening. Her eyes dulled once more as the black magic began to condense around them. “NOoo-,” was all that could be heard as the magic condensed and the spell began to do it's work. Just before it sent them to its destination, there was another powerful pulse. Fire and screams. In that time between seconds, just as the transportation magic took effect, the body split. Three cries of pain called out as they vanished.

Four bodies came crashing down onto the ground in Morrigan's office. One was the corse that laid in a heap on the ground and another was Mal. The other two were the feathered third and the motherly one. The regal side was missing completely. Both thirds seemed to be in a bad state. The motherly one was on her side away from the group, unmoving and with a trickle of blood coming from her nose. The feathered one was on all fours with an arm around her midsection. Her feathers were flared out in rage and pain as she cursed loudly. She too had a nose blood that flowed down her lips and dripped off her chin. “Damnit, Macha!” She cursed as she tried to crawl towards the circle as if to restart the magic but she didn't get far before her vision wavered and she collapsed to her side. “Damnit,” she groaned.

As for Macha, she did not mean to cause the spell to go awry. The land called for her in that moment so strongly, she had to answer it. She had not meant for it to be just at the moment but the moment the screams began, the land pulled her away.

With a low crack, the regal third appeared directly behind James and the screaming vampire. She was on one knee, her body quaking fiercely as she tried to keep herself up. Her eyes were closed and she reached up with her hand to feel blood coming from her nose. She was so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She knew better than to mess with such a powerful spell. She knew it and yet like a dog pulled on a leash, she allowed the land to rip her away from her sisters as easily as that. Stupid.

She took a slow look around, the sounds of screams entering her ears. The dancing flames flickered along her face as she stared at the back of the man in front of her. Her instincts told her to run but her senses told her this man was human. What could a human hope to do against her? Weakened or not?

She used the back of her hand to wipe her face of blood before trying to stand to her full height, somehow managing it by pulling some strength from the ground below her barefoot. “You have broken my laws,” she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, “Explain yourself mortal."

[Lighthouse]

Dragon's breath is a type of shotgun shell that contains magnesium pellets or shards and creates an incendiary effect when fired. When fired, the shell can produce sparks and flames that can travel up to 100–300 feet. Dragon's breath is typically loaded into 12-gauge 23⁄4″ (18.5 mm × 69.9 mm) shot shells and can be fired from a modified choke barrel or improved cylinder bore.

---

Such a powerful name isn’t it? Dragon Breath, but despite the images to which the words conjure up, and indeed witnessing the impressive burst it creates, there were no actual dragons harmed in the making. No, it was good ol’ fashioned human ingenuity that created such ammunition. Sure, sure, using such a thing is considered a warcrime, but when ever did a man like James give a flying turtles fuck about such a piece of paper? Besides, the fight against these things wasn’t a war. No sir, it was a culling. It was a genocide. It was justice. It was right. So, if he had to use every bit of burning hell that he could get his not-so-grubby hands on?

Order must be maintained.

It was that voice, that so possessive ‘you broke my laws.’
Female yes, but behind him. Someone which he had not heard before, nor did he have the slightest sense that he was being walked up on. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and as Mal would have put it… well put him on red alert.

There was no casual comment. No slick remark, or turn of graceful motion that seemed to have all the time in the world. No, James moved as quick as a snake plucking a bird from the branch of a tree. The man moved with the quickness that was an trapdoor spider suddenly appearing from its ingenious little hideaway to snag its prey.

James was quick, had to be in his little line of work didn’t he? The fact that he still had all of his fingers, toes, eyes, and ears were proof enough of that. Perhaps to reinforce that idea, he wheeled upon the back of his heel, jacket flared open, and even before it was pulled completely free of its hold within the folds….

BOOM said the sawed off single shot boomstick.

Like a firework filled with shrapnel, searing magnesium pellets launched by the grains of ignited gunpowder. The impact would be deadly to a human, and in the confined space of the abandoned building, the sound was all but deafening. Though there was no time to gloat, no motion wasted, no pause or quarter given. No time to put out the edge of his jacket that had caught just the rim of the blast that was ejected out of the front of that modified weapon.

The clatter of the shotgun against the hard floor was nothing to his boom stick deafened ears, but he didn't need to hear the cast away now empty weapon. As if taking the momentum from it he wheeled, all but turned about on the ball of his foot, a dancer Waltzing below a chandelier could never be as punctual to rhythm as the man seemed to be. There was no grace. There was no song in his motions. Every action devoid of wasted potential. Every twitch of muscles precisely the amount he needed it to be to accomplish what was required of them.

The grenade like object not thrown, but left below his feet, and already he was moving.

Maybe not to most peoples ears, because the sight of such a thing would cause panic, but flash bangs as they are commonly referred to as, give off a certain sound. Less then a moment, just a soft hiss like that of a serpents tongue against scales was certainty there. Like a Another bright as the sun explosion. Another BOOM of disorientating impact would drive itself against ear drums, but no longer was it under his feet, because James was moving like a god damned cockroach. If you've ever lived in New York Fellow Traveler, you know just how fast and devious those little fuckers could be.

Not out the way he came, nor passed the woman who moved like a cat in the night. No, to freedom. Away from her sight. Unsure if it was a vampire, doggy, or hell.. could be even a siren for all he knew. Yet, in that flurry of two assaults all his bets were covered. It wasn't meant to kill, no. It was meant to deafen their ears, and his own. It was meant to blind. It was meant to turn the sense of scent away. It was meant as a freaking Bat Man's vanishing act.

And while his parents had not been killed by some mugger in an alley...
And while JUSTICE was never a concern of his...
Nor was he wearing black and yellow spandex...

James was very good at this little magicians trick.
He was very good at getting away.
He was very good at living.

Someone had to be right? Someone had to settle the scores. Someone had to make sure...

Order was maintained, even at the cost of ruining a perfectly good jacket.

---

Had she ever heard a Wolf give off a woof?

The impact to the ground drove a proverbial fist into the lungs of Mal, and without meaning it as a joke at all, the sound was very much like that. Perhaps a oof, or errrrf, but sure did sound like the driving force into him was a low breathless woooof didn't it? Agitation for the first time other then which was on display for the bird was on display in his next set of words. Air still fighting to come back into him...

"...you would please stop with the making me fall into things?"

Now with oak colored eyes turning upward towards the scene around him, a quick set of heads was counted. One was missing from the pack, and the women too would know it. Their little comment was clear to his ears that all but pricked upon his at the moment human shaped skull. One of them was on the ground unmoving, the other one bleeding. Recovery for him was quick, already having tended to his own wounds from earlier, perhaps not as quick as James, but quick enough. He moved beside the one who did not have motion in herself. Fingers moved without hesitation to wipe blood away from her nose, and touch slipped to the side of her neck.

"Hey, you alright?" Why do people always say that when someone is hurt. Was to trying to trick themselves into believing that the true victim of the situation was merely playing a trick? Or was it something instinctual? Mal couldn't tell you, and neither could I Fellow Traveler, all that was known is that he was just like everyone else in that regard. Her head gently cradled, his eyes flashed towards the one doubled over holding her stomach.

Panic serves nothing to a man who holds the turning of times in his hands. Cool as ever after his little cheeky comment, agitation lost, and ready to do what needs to be done. Words simple, clean, as if a soldier awaiting the voice of a general.

"Orders?"
Not what happened.
Not what went wrong.
Or god damnit that hurt.

No, just a man ready to find the solution, putting emotions and reactions aside. Those could come later. Right now one was missing. Right now it looked like they had been attacked. Something had gone wrong, that much was clear.

The Wolf inside of him laughed, laughed deeply. Mal even now could feel it there in the back of his mind. 'If only the bird could see his princess now', it mocked in silent voice in the corners of his being.

Mal though... despite that calm demeanor, despite that single word question, worry did show in his eyes. Not for the corpse. Not for the lost, but for the problem that could be solved at this very moment.

[BunniesOfDoom]

Violence.

So much violence.

Macha had not expected what took place next as she spoke. The human man turned to her and she expected him to address her, expected anything but the fierce pain that came along with intense burning. The blinding heat blocked her sight from the man.

She didn't even have time to react. She didn't even have time to process what was even happening to her when there was a second bright flash. At this moment, her mind recognized that there was something incredibly wrong, intense pain in her right arm but she couldn't see anything. She couldn't hear anything. Her mind was a jumbled mess as she raised her hand to where her right arm used to be. She groped her side, feeling the gaping wound there and finding her arm missing from mid forearm and down. With her vision still blurry from the onslaught of attacks and her ears ringing from the sound, she finally looked down and saw the damage first hand. Sure enough, half her arm was completely missing.

Panic clenched her throat at the sight. She felt her chest tighten and before she knew what was happening, a scream of absolute terror ripped through her lips. She fell to her knees, clenching at her wound as she continued to scream. The last time she had been injured in such a way, Cu Chulainn had run her from Ireland.

Her screams reverberated off the walls of the building and the ground below her shook in anger. It rippled like a rock dropped into a still pond, with her in the center. As her screams grew more frantic, the magic expelled out and soon the ripples were causing the buildings to quiver and some less stable ones to collapse all together. The earth began to swirl around her like tidal waves and crashed in around her, burying her.

Back at the office, as Mal checked on the motherly third, he found her still breathing, just unconscious. When he asked what the orders were, the feathered thied inhaled deeply. “Macha is somewhere else.” She slowly tried to rise to her hands and knees once more with a pained grunt. “The spell sent her somewhere else. There was someone attacking a vampire. I think they had caught the vampire on fire when ahe left. She might be in danger. We need to get Huggin and find her.” However, just as she started to gather herself, the building shook violently. She wobbled violently as her eyes grew wide in horror. Her head snapped to the window of her office as she watched as the whole city began to rumble and rock. “Oh no,” she whispered. Something terrible must have had to happen for her to lose control like this. The land itself was reacting now.

The building rumbled again and Badb threw herself forward and slapped her hand on the carved circle on the ground. It glowed at her touch and within a moment, the building settled and grew steady once more. She grumbled to herself in pain. She was going to pay for that later. However, before she could get herself situated properly once more, there was a loud crash as a black feathered mass came barreling through the window.

Huggin transformed into his human self moments after he came crashing through the window. He slid along the top of the desk then allowed himself to drop down on the ground in front of Badb, his eyes wide in panic. “She's in a frenzied state! At this rate she's going to destroy the whole city.” He looked upon Babd and then moved his eyes to Anand, whose head was still resting firmly in Mal's lap. He stood suddenly, a spear of glistening steal appearing in his hands. “I warned you!” He said, his voice dripping with venom as he closed the space between him and Mal with a few steps.

As he raised the spear to strike, he froze, a fierce snarl crossing his face. “Release me! He did all this!” Black inky magic coiled along his arms like slithering snakes and glided along the length of the spear.

“He didn't do this Huggin. Leave him alone,” Babd said, a hand raised in the air and directed at Huggin. “If what you said is true, we need to get to Macha and we need to bring her under control. We can't let her destroy the whole city.”

Huggin strained against the magic for only a moment more before he groaned and released the spear. It disappeared into the black magic and both vanished from reality. “Fine,” he said, his eyes lingering on Mal and only leaving the wolf when the building began rumbling again. Babd looked to the circle on the ground and it's magic flickered. “How,” she asked, the answer coming in a giant shadow crossing the window.

They all looked to the window to see a giant version of Macha made of asphalt and rubble walk past the building. Babd’s eyes grew wide at the site of it, her body quivering in fear as Macha’s voice came out in a rumble that shook her very bones.

“Show yourself mortal. I shall show you the punishment for harming me in such a way.” It was then that Huggin spoke up, his voice a deep grumble.

“Her arm. It's missing.” Babd looked to him in shock and horror before looking back at the giant form of Macha as she passed. Sure enough, her arm ended right above the elbow. Her breath caught in a audible gasp. What happened to her?

“Huggin, we need to stop her. She'll tear this city apart looking for this person.” Huggin gave a slow nod but no one was sure how.

Babd slowly pulled herself back to her feet, a spear of her own appearing in her hands to give her some support. Unlike Huggin’s spear, hers was black wood and the spear head steel. At the moment the head was buried into the floor and she leaned on it heavily. “This is a mess.” She waves her hand towards the wall behind her and her magic flowed from.her fingertips to light up the runes, opening the wall to reveal the arsenal.

“Mal, I know this isn't your mess but we need to get this under control and any help will be great.” She took a moment to rest against the spear as ahe waved her hand at the large selection of weapons, modern and ancient, “Take your pick. Huggin, a healing potion if you would please.”

Huggin nodded and began to the alchemy area and dug through the large selection of completed potions. Eventually he pulled a bottle out and walked back to Babd and handed it to her. He pulled the stopper and handed it to her. She took no time to drink it before giving him and nod. “Thank you,” she said as she handed him back the bottle and he returned it back to the stash and got another for Anand. They were going to need as much help as they could get. They had a very angry and hurt mother nature on their hands.

He tried to ignore Mal as best he could while administrating the potion to Anand. It took her a moment, but she eventually stirred then opened her eyes. She gave a small groan and sat up, rubbing her head as if trying to ward off a headache. “what happened?”

“That's a story for another time. Right now, all you need to know is that Macha is in full god mode and rampaging through the city.”

“She's what?!” Anand said as she turned to look out at the city through the broken window. Sure enough, she could see a colossal form of Macha stomping around the place, knocking building over along the way. “She's going to kill everyone. We need to stop her.”

Babd nodded, “We will. Anand, get her weapons. Time to wrangle in our sister.”

[Lighthouse]

That urgency of chaos did not flutter with its wings into his mind, nor did the man seem troubled on the very edge of the abyss that possibly was the end of the world. The lady's head to which was delicately perched upon his lap was placed with tenderness to the cold unforgiving floor upon which he sat. Jacket shrugged from shoulders, tucked at last beneath her skull, only now did he reach outwards towards that pistol which lay so near, forgotten, and abandoned despite its earlier threat. And hand curled around not about the grip, but rather the slide. Accompanied by its twin brother, the man used his touch to pull against it, a click, a silvery fling of raw chambered round shot into the air.

Quick as a wolf snapping its jaws, the man caught it mid flight, but its freedom did not last long. He needed a way to keep the beast weakened, a way to keep it in check, so into his mouth he popped it, and swallowed it like a pill for the cancer that was inside.

“Hey Turkey, catch.”

The lethal weapon was tossed with careless measure towards the Bird servant, its end tumbling over and over.

“When it’s done.” Mal tapped himself between the eyes. “Don’t miss. Might take more than one. Think you can manage that at least?”

One last jab before the lights went out. One last little dig at the feathered fiend.

“Hate this part.”

From the small of his back, a place once hidden by jacket, a blade was produced. Not a switchblade, or even knife, those were modern things to which the name could not be placed upon. It was the length of his hand, and though maintained well, showed the signs of age as it rightly should. Issued in the 1800’s to those of military service, it was a thing of last resort. A thing meant for cutting rations, or killing if all else failed.

It was a tool, just as any man still under the banner of Lord or Lady was seen as. A tool for taking life.

Across his own throat it slipped, quick and smooth as butter.

Down what was inside began to flow, not red as before, because it wasn’t a wound such as was received by a speeding car. Mal opened himself up, and the man opened that particular door wide. Black like the charcoal color of his drawings. Ink like for its lack of color and grace, slipped down across his body… flowed like a source of life.

Perhaps it was waking up. Perhaps it needed a moment to breathe fresh air away from the drowning waves the soldier kept it beneath. Though, whatever the reason that it required, the moment had passed.

Not a single droplet left a stain upon the collar of his shirt. Not a single mark or smudge left upon his breast. It all suddenly whipped upward to cover his face like a death’s mask. It did not shift, or change, not in the way Creatures such as he are meant to do. It bent like liquid plastic. It formed without sound or subtle nature. Almost instantly it was pouring out of that wound, and over him. Not changing him per say, but rather replacing him.

Still the man remained long enough to turn his eyes towards that window to which they had watched a monster walk passed. Long enough to cast himself through it with the sound of shattering pane, and glittering remains all but dancing in the sunlight.

The Wolf’s bane in the system was doing its job.

It could not take him all, but parts of him as if some grisly cosplay were covered, masked, veiled. Golden eyes shown from black and white fur just over a long set of jaws. Long radar dish like ears tilted forward just on top of his head, while a human set was left uncovered just behind. Long hair had changed its color, to match the fur. Hands were no more but left to claws. Shoes replaced by talons digging into the ground beneath.

It smiled Fellow travelers.
It smiled for the madness to which it saw.
It smiled for the ability to be mostly free.

It smiled at my friend, because it was time to play.

Despite the sun. Despite the glow. Didn’t that distant outline in the sky of the moon look that much closer? Did not even humanity have a chance to see it all the more clear? It lifted its dual set of jaws, the ones that covered the face of a man, and howled. A challenge. A cry. A hunting call.

It. Was. Time. To. Kill.

Shreds of concrete beneath its feet exploded back, and the beast launched itself forward leaving behind claw marks where once it stood.

It moved like a human, yes? Was it structured like one? Time to test. Time to taste.

Like a black spear it sliced through the air, opened claws, teeth, and nails. Was there muscle to tear apart? Were there tendons to tear? Was there blood to taste? It was about to find out. Yes, it was about to find out.

Into the back of the giant woman’s heel, or rather just above it where the achilles tendon should be, the Wolf cut like a scythe through wheat. Not with a slash, or simple swing, but with his full body. It lept like a cannonball unleashed, arms outstretched, fangs and claws seeking the prey. Stone, concrete, the dirt of the city upon his tongue… but sadly.. No blood or meat.

Through the other side it pierced, coming to land before the giant without fear. Deep wounds in the structure of the wolf, cut by rebar, steel and glass, but these threaded closed almost instantly, laughter in the air.

How fun, how fun, how fun it is! No veins to bleed or muscles to weaken!

A voice echoed out, one that was threaded not just with Mal’s but rather twenty four. Twenty four innocents that Mal could not stop it from claiming. Every victim it had taken, devoured, or bled upon. With all their souls, thoughts, and words contained it smiled upwards towards the towering thing.

“Come then child of lies!”
.lies.lies.lies.

Those voices echoed a fraction of a moment out of unison.

“Come then queen of falsehood!”
.falsehood.falsehood.falsehood.

Then a single voice, something so very close to Mal’s ended the challenge, the call, the warning.

“Let me show you what a monster is.”
To the left and right of its face two more canines seemed to stretch out like liquid plastic. A mimicry of Cereberus. A mockery of a guardian of hells gate.

It laughed. It jeered.

It launched forward again.

---

Look, it’s one thing to go after Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosties, and Ghouls. It was quite another thing when Godzilla’s ex-wife comes tromping through the city after you. Yes, James was mortal. Yes, James was scared. Yes, James was running his (undeniably cute) ass off. Though it was not in panic.

Never that.

Tight spaces he tread, alleyways, covered places where awnings could…

A howl.
One he knew well.
One he dreamed about regularly.

James stopped, turned, and nothing but cold hatred filled his gaze. Nothing but the need to kill clenched his jaw line to the soft hissing sound of his own breath.

“Kerberos”

The name a curse.
The name a purpose.

The name of a creature which broke order completely.
James’s true prey.

Sneering sharply, the human glanced upward at the still enraged being that could no doubt force King Kong himself to cough up alimony. His mouth tasted sour, and James spit on the ground before he turned.

Keep running you ‘idigit he told himself.
He’s here, we know that now, and that is enough for the moment.

[BunniesOfDoom]

Huggin had just administered the potion to Anand and the three were talking when Mal took one of the werewolf bullets and swallowed it, whole. Anand blinked at him as if the man had lost his mind. She stared in disbelief as he threw the gun at Huggin as if he had not just insulted him and then gave him a weapon to which he could get his very vengeance with.

Huggin caught the gun, gave it an expert spin before he had it properly in his grip and watched as Mal tapped his forever, delivering a message of brutal finality. Shoot him, right between the eyes. Huggin looked to the gun for a moment before looking back at Mal and giving a stern nod. Sure, he did not like the man, and yes, he was probably going to enjoy it but now was not the time to linger on that. They had a battle at hand and Mal was obviously going to do something rash here in a moment. Huggin check the safety with a quick flick of her finger to see that it was already off. He cocked the gun, loading in a new bullet as he watched Mal.

And just like that, Mal drew a weapon from the small of his back, commented on how he hated this part, and slit his own throat. Anand cried out as she reached for him to only have Huggin grab her wrist while he fiercely shook his head. Babd didn't move an inch, her black orbs watching his every move intently. She watched as black blood- no not blood, something else, crept along him like a slithering slime. Her hands tightened on her spear at the sight of her, her own magic flowing elegantly from the grip she held so tightly. The magic of her abysmal magic called out to the black ooze that now morphed into a new mask.

They all watched as he then threw himself out of the window, Babd making a guttural hiss at the sight. Her and that man are going to have to have a very long, long talk.

“Huggin,” she said, her voice morphing into a deep octave that seemed impossible for a woman of her stature. “It's time for war.” A dark grin marred her face, almost seeming to split it in two as her form began to change. The dark magic that had seeped from her palm pulsed out around her. She took a look at Huggin just before the magic make it impossible for her to see anything but black. Huggin tucked the gun to his pants leg and nodded. Within a breath, he was in his raven's form, taking to air and circling around the black orb where Babd stood. However, instead of the magic dissipating, it condensed. It found its place upon her body in the form of glistening black armor, a pair of gleaming huge black wings on her back. She began to walk towards the window, a wake of black smoke behind her. When she flapped her wings, the sounds of ravens and crows cawing could be heard, a chorus of battle. Huggin landed on her shoulder and she propelled herself off, the magic propelling her farther than a simple jump would have taken her.

Wings spread wide, Babd took to the sky and rising high above the scene. Her magic condensed around her once more, morphing her shape into that of a giant raven, her and Huggin merged into one. Each flap of her wings were like the sound of thunder. Her head cocked to the side as she locked onto the sight below. She could see the wolf running circles about, barking about lies or something or another. However, what caught her attention was the damage he did to her ankle. So Macha had decided to settle for an avatar instead of growing herself. Perhaps it was because of the damage she had already taken. Babd was unsure, but that made this easier. They could go out without fear of killing her. Huggin concurred in her head and they took a dive down towards the avatar.

Just before they collided with the giant, their forms split. Babd had her spear in her hands and Huggin, in his human form, was also armed with his own spear. With a war cry, they both drove their spears to either side of her shoulder and allowed the momentum of the fall to pull them down, dragging the spears along. Once their momentum ran out, she used her embedded spear to run back towards Huggin. They clasped arms and pushed off from the avatar. There was a spiral of black smoke from them as they merged once more into the giant raven and took to the sky again.

Macha could feel whatever happened to the avatar. It was not as intense as it was if it were happening to her, but she could feel it upon her own self. So when the wolf barreled through her ankle, she cried out in pain and annoyance. She looked down at the wolf and she sneered at him. She moved her right arm to grab at him, only to remember that she no longer had that arm. That only brought more rage to her as she had to turn her body to grab at the wolf with her left hand, crossing over herself to do so. He spoke as if he knew her, calling her a child of lies, a queen of falsehood. She snarled at him, her voice rumbling the very ground they stood on.

“Speak not of me as if you are knowing, fiend. Be gone from my city.” However, before she could grab at the man, she saw the familiar black magic of Babd. She growled in frustration at the sight, the little wolf forgotten. “Return Babd. This is not for you. I shall avenge my arm.” Be tried to grab at the raven as it came diving down at her in amazing speeds, to only have the two separate and drive their own spears into her shoulders and go along her back and chest. She cried out in rage and pain. “I have been wounded!” She screamed, her hand rising and the land answering her call. The ground before her shot up and morphed into a hand, grasping at the raven in an attempt to capture it. “You of all would understand the need for revenge! Allow me this!”

In the meantime, Anand was left in the office alone. She had no rush. Between Babd, Huggin, and Mal she was sure Macha was going to be kept busy for quite a while. So she made sure to gather the appropriate ingredients needed for the spell. She could still feel the building rumbling from the battle outside and she was afraid that when she went to cast her magic, this building wouldn't survive. The only thing keeping it even standing was Babd's magic flowing through the circle but she would need the circle. So she made sure to pack as much of the arsenal as she could carry while storing the rest in the safe.

She was sure she could probably dig the safe out and it should survive the crumbling of the building. She was sure to pack potions, ingredients, and anything that wouldn't survive in the safe on her person and then paused as her hands lingered on a net, the magic sparking from its thread. She thought of that thing Mal had turned into and how he wanted Huggin to shoot him after everything was done. She puckered her lips as she thought before she grabbed the net and tied it across herself. She felt she might need that later on.

Eventually, Anand had all her ingredients and all the items she could carry strapped to her in bags and backpacks. She walked over to the circle and began to pour and place the ingredients into the circle. It's magic flared with each new item added into it. The magic flowed around her, the intensity building around her. For the first time Macha took her first steps in the avatar form, the building was solid as a rock.

That was until Anand stepped into the circle and pulled a small knife from her back pocket. She pricked her finger and turned it so the blood dripped onto the circle. The magic flared and turned blood red. She closed her eyes before she spoke a spell in an ancient language. The magic swirled like a tidal wave before it crashed into her. She snapped her eyes closed and allowed the spell to take effect. Just as she has assumed, the building did not survive, however it wasn't because of Macha. It was because Anand now grew like Alice who had just eaten a piece of cake. The building crumbled down around her and she frowned at the sight. Good thing she prepared for that outcome. She sighed at the sight before turning her eyes onto Macha. “Enough Macha. Let us heal you and then we may all go looking for the one who harmed you.”

Macha turned her angry eyes onto Anand and released a primal growl at the sight before she kicked out at her enlarged sister. Unlike Macha, Anand had made her form giant instead of an avatar. She let out a loud oof as the air was knocked out of her and she stumbled back a few steps. Damnit, that hurt.

[Lighthouse]

Creatures such as this need not to sustain themselves through the use of devouring meat, vegetables, or other such trivial things. There were other feasts, darker meals to which should not be named in polite places. So, it was an odd feeling, but being creatures of flesh and blood, we would know a name for that sensation to which the Wolf began to suffer. It was a hidden heat, a spice, one which seemed to grow from the gut after putting a peppered meal down our gullets. It was a heat rising from below, to flush the face. It was a pepper’s oil lingering in our lips as second after second, the acidity of it began to tear through our systems.

It was the Wolf’s Bane, we know that, Mal knows that, but the Wolf? Well, all he knew was that sensation was growing, flowing, searing at the back of his throat.

That forward assault was halted upon the reaching out of the gigantic arm, and a backwards lunge scattered pebbles of concrete torn free by talon-like back paws.

What did you do? The Wolf asked inside himself, but only in the dark there found that Mal was smiling knowingly.

Though the call for battle could not allow for such a conversation to continue, and in truth one should expect the creature just to turn tail should they not? Yet, this city is where it was bound, neither by Mal or its own will. Something was here, and wherever the Wolf was, well that was its kingdom was it not? So yes, it does make sense that it had started this fight, fun as it was. It does make sense to a criminal’s lips to say that you pick a fight with the biggest baddest mofo there was to put fear behind your name.

Though, enough of these thoughts, for what it boiled down to was this, the Wolf needed to end this fight quickly. Knew enough of that sensation to know that much.

It’s smiling face tilted upwards towards the beast-giant-woman before him, nostrils flared, and golden eyes shown. A deep breath taken in, one with lungs that were used to howling, used to tracking, used to find blood, bone, and meat.

It was there, perhaps not exactly dead center of the chest, just a little off to the side, but something was there. Something with those attributes that the Wolf knew. Something he could really sink his teeth into.

The creature was a wild beast, but it was a wild beast of the most dangerous kind. It could think. It could problem solve. It would plan.

Golden eyes shifted to this way to the left, and then to the right while keeping the giant form within the corner of his vision. One could almost see the gears within it moving, calculating, sorting through various options.

The woman, dare it be called that when made out of such material? Had been careless. Stomping through the forest of the city. Had crushed various things, knocked over various devices, and the Wolf had no name for what a street light should be. It was merely a metal tree that had been knocked down.

Yes, bigger claws are needed weren’t they?

Over to it the beast that once was Mal darted. Pulling two large shards of steel from its trunk. Why not use the metal on a stop sign? Or even a street sign? What movies get wrong about those is those things are meant to bend if struck. Safety in case a car had a bit of an accident you see, but the Wolf knew that not. No, instead it could rightly smell the impurity in its fabrication. Could tell those things weren’t sufficient.

This though? This would do.

Armed with now two blades as long as its forearms, it grinned up at the intended victim. Well, grinned the best it could. Look now Fellow Traveler, look at that mask that covered the man's face. It sagged, all but began to drip, the poison sinking further into the system. Though with a snarl it seemed to harden again, the beast there on display redoubling its efforts to hold on. To maintain. To be here and now in this fight.

Limb of leg went back, and pressed its claw into the ground to give a hard purchase in place. Like a runner at the start of the race, it was coiling its strength, it was plunging every bit of itself into that movement being held at bay. You could hear the talons digging down, sinking into the skin of the street.

Without a starter pistol, or anyone saying go… the form became a blur of motion.

Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five. One.

Like a javelin the shattered, sheared, metal was thrown from his left hand.
It cracked into the surface at least softening the intended projectile path of his own body, and like a knight with a lance, the right extended to drive a path for him.

The world was swallowed for him, as he drove into it.
Was it a pop, or an explosion?
The Wolf wasn’t sure.

All awareness was lost as it cut through concrete, dirt, tin, and other various materials the woman had used to construct this mockery of a body.

One moment he was going forward… and then woomp.
An impact of invisible force not only halted his journey, but with such force it threw him through the very rabbit hole to which it had carved upon striking. Back into the sunlight the Wolf was tossed, turning end over end skittering across the pavement like those pebbles he had torn free before.

At last coming to a rest, it lifted its head up. Looked at the giant of a woman, and snarled as half of its face sloughed off like dead flesh. A wet plop upon the ground, as one golden eye, and one eye of oak now underneath, rolled back inside of its skull… and hit the ground with no small amount of impact.

Blackness. The kind of black that was dark as its once ink colored form.
The poison had indeed taken its toll as Mal had intended.

One last set of words, perhaps the Wolf and Mal were more alike than at first thought.
A muttered huff of blowing dust from nostrils.
“Fuck…you…”

Down but not out. The poison lingered in veins, or at least what could be considered as such within a creature. It’s chest rising, falling, small swirls of dust like gnome sized tornadoes looking for an ant version of Dorothy to take away.

[BunniesOfDoom]

At the kick at her chest, Anand straightened and reached out and grabbed a hold of Macha’s good arm. She pulled hard and Macha staggered a bit. With Anand using her true body, she had the full force and strength of her true self. Whereas Macha was more controlling a large suite of rubble and dirt, Anand was all too comfortable in her skin.

She used that to her advantage now as she continued to pull back further and further, trying to either rip the arm off the avatar or pull Macha so far off her balance, she would stumble and fall. Macha pulled back from Anand in a struggle of strength, all the while, Babd was flying above and watching everything. Her eyes moved from one scene to the next and when Anand began to really pull on the avatar's arm, she began a deep dive.

Just as before, her and Huggin split at the last second and drove their spears straight into the arm at the elbow. Macha released a loud cry of rage and pain at the sight. Both warriors ripped their spears through the arm, allowing the momentum of their dive and the force of gravity to pull them completely through the arm.

However, they quickly found themselves under a falling arm after their spears completed their path. Huggin reached out for Babd but didn't find her there within his reach. His eyes widened and he looked around frantically with no luck. Babd was simply gone.

Before the arm could crush him underneath it, he shifted to his raven form and flew out of the way. He looked around frantically but had to move away quickly as a very angry Macha raised a foot and tried to step on him.

When the arm separated from Macha, Anand released it and quickly got to work on dismantling the avatar even more. She pulled a knife from her belt and drove it through the shoulder of the avatar and used her body mass to rip it down. It was not easy. This avatar was constructed of the city rubble and streets. Asphalt and concrete were not easy things to push through, no matter how large you were at the moment. She gave it a mighty twist when it was about collarbone level and reached into the new hole to grab ahold and rip a large chunk from the avatar. She threw the chunk to the side and pulled her knife free, getting it primed for another strike but before she could bring the knife down once again, the avatar completely crumbled under her grip.

Babd, with her observant gaze, had noticed when the wolf had went to push through the chest of the avatar just to be pushed back in return and sent rolling head over feet on the cement. It took her no time to determine that he had indeed found Macha’s control center and where Huggin had allowed himself to fall from the arm, she had pushed off the arm with a burst of magic. She was a black bullet of smoke as she barreled towards the chest, her inky black magic forming a barrier in front of her as she drilled her way through.

She couldn't see because of the black shield but she could sense it when her magic met Macha's and her ears popped painfully she pushed through with such ferocity. Her arms spread out to either side, ready to grab a hold of anything in her way. Surprise caught her in its grip as the first thing to hit her arms was Not Macha but instead an unconscious and very crispy vampire. No matter, she'll figure that out later in time. Then came the audible omf as her arms collided forcefully with Macha and swept her off her feet.

There was another painful pop to her ears as they exited the bubble, thankfully finding the path that Mal has made previously because her own magic was all but extinguished from fight to get through the proactive bubble Macha had constructed. All three beings came tumbling out of the hole and landed on the ground, the avatar crumbling the moment Macha was removed from the core.

Babd groaned and slowly pulled her spear out from under her, having landed painfully on it, thankfully not piercing herself in the process. Macha groaned lightly and when Babd looked at her, she could finally see the damage that caused her to lose control in the very beginning.

Macha laid groaning on the ground, the right side of her body was burned badly, charred to almost the bone and her right arm was missing completely from right above the elbow and down. Her regal robes were in tatters and hung off her, half her face sweltered with blisters. Someone had lit her sister on fire or blasted her with some kind of powerful fire blast.

Babd scrambled to Macha's side as Anand slowly reduced her size bit by bit until she was her regular size once more. It took her some time to finally scramble over the rumble that was once the avatar but she eventually came to stand next to her sisters, tears welling up in her eyes and her hands over her mouth at the sight of Macha.

Huggin landed not far from them and squatted next to an unconscious Mal. He scanned the man over before giving a grunt of annoyance and picking him up. He carried the wolf over to the group and unceremoniously dropped him down before looking at Macha. “She'll be okay, we just need to get her a poti-” he began as he turned to where the office once stood but froze as he realized the office no longer existed. His shoulders visibly slumped before looking back at Babd and Anand. “What do we do?”

Anand reached into one of the many bags she had on herself and dug around a moment before precuring a small potion. “I have some from the office but none of them will be strong enough for this. We're going to need a new circle and we're going to need some ingredients. She's too badly hurt.” she knelt down by Macha and began to feed her the potion. Macha's groans of pains slowly died and she fell into a restful sleep, her body slowly rejuvenating itself.

Anand looked around at the disaster of the city and sighed. It's going to take a long time to clean this mess up and get the buildings back. She let out a loud groan as she sat down on the ground. This was turning into a huge mess and there's still the case of the man who had hurt Macha as much as she was. She had called him mortal but no mortal should have been able to hurt her like that. She ran a hand over her face. This is turning into quite the day, night, whatever.

Huggin crouched over Mal and pulled the gun from his pants waist. He tried not to show the smile that wanted to crack his face as he put the barrel right between his eyes. Babd looked up at him, her eyes narrowing at him at the sight. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“He said to shoot him after everything was good and done with. I'm just listening to his instructions.” Babd rolled her eyes as she reached for the gun.

“We all know he meant if the wolf thing was still out and about. Does that look like he's still the wolf?” She said as she gestured with her hand. Huggin didn't look at her as if him not paying attention to her logic would keep him from having to accept it as truth. However, before he could pull the trigger, Anand grabbed the gun from him.

“Enough.” She said before setting the gun on then other side of her, away from Huggin. "Enough."

[BunniesOfDoom]

@lighthouse

[Lighthouse]

It is best to describe the body of the soul that called itself Mal, as a shared thing. Once perhaps the curse of the Wolf had been a part of him. Though long ago, in his attempts to kill the creature that he must drown time and again, it had pulled away from him. It had made itself its own form of primal soul. When one of them was killed, the body would heal, and the other, be it creature or man, would open its eyes to the world again.

And yet?
The Raven had failed in its task.
Stopped as it may be by one who Huginn adores, failed all the same. The soul of Mal had looked at him, called him turkey, and tapped the forehead of the shared vessel. An understanding was reached. An agreement was made. A promise broken.

So, in that driver seat still, the creature that at these times only resembled aspects of canine rode. It was down, but not out.

Time slips away while we slumber, exhausted, or harmed. So too was it with the Wolf. Though, like a soft distant star, a pinprick of light in the distance. The bare requirements for the term awareness was there, just out of its reach. Soon it would come around. Soon it would open its eyes and tear apart anything close by.

Soon.

Maybe there was just enough strength in him for the moment, or maybe it was the sounds of voices conversing after the situation was done, or maybe it was none of those things. As if in drunken slumber, a sleepwalker's action, the shared form that was once Mal reached out for that pinprick of awareness. As if on instinct alone, hand closed in all of its unawareness, merely a soft squeeze upon that which it unknowing found.

Huginn, the black winged one, had his ankle attached to what felt like claws. It was soft, but even the pressure of only slight pushing in, without pain one could easily tell what that shape was. Though eyes play tricks do they not? Even human tricksters called magicians can fool a glance or observation. By the time the Raven would look down, there would only be that human looking hand upon him. Even in that brief span though, there would only be the sight of it losing its grip and falling back down into the blackness with whatever hope the Wolf had in waking up in this very second.

Though a second Fellow Traveler, or even fractions of one, are enough time to change worlds.

Ponder this.
A creature made by an unnatural curse, comes into contact with a very wounded, very angry, and very powerful ball of energy strong enough to shape giants made of cities. Like currents wanting to pull you under, the power of it felt natural, consuming, and spreading.

This was not a case of unstoppable force meeting an unyielding shield.
Nor was this a fight of light or dark, for what the Wolf was and what Nature herself was are in ways similar. Compound this new information, to the information that the Wolf was its own creature. It had needed to adapt to magical assaults that Mal had put against it. It had needed to evolve as chemicals and brew were pumped into its system in attempts to poison it like a cancer.

Now a new force was needed to change against.
Naturally unnatural, against natural Nature.

Creature. Wolf.
It is called Kerebos.
It is called Cerberus.

And yet, it has never spoken a name for itself.
The thought struck the soul in the calm darkness between awareness and dreams.
What a funny thing that is.
Not to have a name.

I? I. Me.
Who am I?

Vel

The name is short, like a growl underneath the breath. Even by lettering it, if one were so inclined, the V pleasingly looks like a simple interpretation of a fang doesn’t it? Yes.

I am Vel.
It occurred like a lightning bolt of revelation to the once unnamed creature.

In this place inside its own mind, for in many ways in this moment he was simply floating there like an untethered astronaut witnessing the birth of a new galaxy, Vel turned his gaze out across the blackness, and noticed a removed piece of the darkness. A separate thing almost perfectly round and black against the empty nothing behind it. It wasn’t something, no, Vel knew it now.

It was an eye.
A raven’s eye.

Gravity struck, Vel was falling. Suddenly as if pulling and being pulled into a black hole, time ellipsed itself backwards. So many moments Huginn had lived, and now Vel was tumbling through them.

Nature adapts just as unnaturally nature does. It changes, evolves, grows. The mixture of it would impart new flaws, vulnerabilities, and of course strengths.

To learn.

Vel learned about Huginn without even knowing he could learn. Absorb, one could argue, would be a better term to define it with, but it doesn’t matter the name. It matters that Vel could now do it.

From a tree, Huginn had watched a god hang himself.
From loyalty and love, Huginn had served dependable and true.

The Raven once circled the crown of Odin himself, and Vel saw it all. The adoption to the Wolf’s existence had not changed emotion, or so it would seem as of yet. So, a thing called a monster learned from these slide show images, but there were some notes that it could not take. It did not understand certain aspects of the foolishness of love, or understanding. Yet, Odin had been a bit of a trickster had He not?

Vel knew of trickery, of traps, and of waiting in the darkness.
Vel learned now about disguises. About making yourself appear to be something you are not, to gain favor, to gain trust, to gain an opportunity. Yes, Vel had never thought of a raven's tricks, but now?

Hazel, no, oak brown eyes opened to the world once more. Whatever puddles of black came off the form that had covered the body, had long since vanished. Not in steam or crawling motion, but just one moment gone. Doubt anyone saw it happen, for things like that it was made of waiting till others turned their attention.

The body was still in control of Vel, but my o’ my didn’t it just simply look like Mal? That was the easy part, because it was Mal, or at least Mal was the original owner. All Vel had to do was keep his own face from showing. Had to be tricky, like a trickster God. The Wolf was new to this game though, where Mal had always been slow in his motions, not truely careful simply moving with all the time he had (which if you haven’t caught on yet, seemed to be all of it).

For the sake of clarity of what others would see, for now let’s just say Mal sat up, almost suddenly. Eyes were not as gentle as they normally were, and that half smile often the man wore just tucked there at the right edge of his mouth was gone. Though how could they know? How could they expect?

Attention moved along the screen that was the world around him, in one easy sweep, before dark circles of pupils narrowed upon Huginn. Knowing without knowing that a Wolf had gotten the Raven’s once master. O’ how hard it was not to smile with a sharp toothed grin at that fact, but Vel managed to keep the impulse in check.

Out of sheer habit alone, it almost made a mistake. Vel almost spoke in the voice of twenty four victims it had claimed, but Mal wouldn’t have done that. No, Mal would check on the situation like a good little soldier wouldn’t he?

He was getting at this pretending thing. Vel was proud of himself.
Pride. That’s a funny thing.

“It over?”

Without complaint of body, Vel piloted this weaker form with practiced ease. The man, or what appeared to be stood up in one almost practiced like motion. One smooth motion. That wasn’t his only mistake he was about to make either, because while there was pride, and patting himself on the back…

Pride comes before the downfall.

As if to check for a bullet hole in the forehead, the index finger, not claw, was lifted to the forehead of Mal’s skull. Eyes flicked to Huginn once more after the best inspection one could manage without a mirror.

“Thank you for not killing me again I ‘suppose.”

Oh that was close to right wasn’t it? Almost playful. Though when had Mal ever been that with the Raven? There was no condescending tone either. It was earnest, or trying to be one could suppose.

Nostrils flared softly and his attention went to the armless woman, the pilot of the city golem. A shake of his head as now, free from that cocoon of power, her scent was clear as day. So was the magnesium, and the wound of her arm.

Vel knew that, what was it? Had encountered a few of those shells fired at him in its time. Now knew the name for them, and spoke again knowing the cause well.

“Breath shells. Hunter.”

It didn’t occur to Vel that it was the same hunter. He was still learning. Just so many interactions with James, Vel simply assumed all hunters were hot and heavy for anything that sets stuff on fire. Truth be told, humans really did like their flames didn’t they? Huh. That’s kind of a bit funny as well wasn’t it Vel?

Hands moved down to brush against his now damaged shirt. Well damn near tattered shirt, but Mel wouldn’t admit that.

“And you owe me a new one.”
Again, joking, almost friendly. Just another member of the team.Right?

Right?

Test. To its own mind it thought it was doing flawlessly. It wanted to know if everything was correct that he saw. That playful Wolf nature, for they do have them even the monstrous versions, also wanted to see the reaction.

“Fit perfectly..”
Still griping about his shirt of course.
“.. and wasn’t cheap. Was made by some company called Woðinz I think.”
The name was flawless off Mal’s tongue, because the Raven could say it just as clearly. Huginn had become his mentor, teacher, and so a style of communication before a language, a proto language as scholars call it, left Mal’s mouth.

The company that Vel had just made up, had the Proto-Norse name for Odin.

Did the Raven look as he was there just ‘grumbling’ off to the side? Did for a fraction of a second he notice a Wolfish smile? Maybe it was just his nature to smirk or smile right? Maybe it was indeed just some company. Who knew? They had known the man for what? An hour? Maybe two?

Though that was the point of pretending wasn’t it?
To see how far you can wear the mask.
To see just how good of an actor you could become.

Yes, teacher, mentor, Raven, Thought, servant….
You have failed.

Because you should have pulled the trigger.

Somewhere, as the soul of Vel smiled inwardly…
… the soul of Mal drowned beneath waves.

A Wolf in man’s clothing was born, made, evolved, grew, and had its birthday today.

Someone's garden had been destroyed, or maybe it was simply a window box, but in his inspection of his tattered garments, Mal, or what appeared to be him, pulled a small purple flower from his ear. Oak eyes looked at it, studied it, before hand closed over to crush and throw it away.

“What now?”

[BunniesOfDoom]

While Mal and Macha rested, the rest tried to gather a battle plan on how to salvage what was left of their home. The sun had set a good while ago and they were left to ponder under the light of a full moon. Anand continued to feed Macha another health potion any time she took notice that the previous one had worn off. By that time, the blisters along her sister's face had all but disappeared and her right side was slowly trying to patch itself back together. Anand took a count of her potions and gave a small sigh as she set her bag down in front of her.

“We have two potions left. We're going to have to find a safe place to store Macha for the time being while we try and find the ingredients to make a new circle.” She groaned at the thought of their office being destroyed. She had spent months on that circle. It was so detailed and intricate. It would take her just as long replicating it again when they finally find a new place for their office. She rubbed at her eyes with a deep sigh.

It took them so long to make a home here in this city of glass and steel. Do you have any idea how long it takes to equalize the magic necessary to cast the spells that her circle was able to cast? These humans and their monstrosities of cities sent the whole magic equilibrium off to such a degree, her office was a safe haven for anything magical that may have been drained from being in the mess they call a city for too long. And now, it was gone. All of it, just gone. Poof. Years of work. Months of carving and magic casting. It almost made her want to cry. However, she was brought out of her brooding when she heard a groan, but not from Macha.

All three people stopped everything that they were doing and looked over at the vampire Babd had pulled from the center of the avatar. The creature was still limbless but he was now conscious and was trying to move. Babd moved quickly and closed the gap between them with three solid steps, her spear appearing in her hands within a moment. She pointed its head at the man's throat as she glared down at him with a sneer. The vampire froze then, staring up at her in horror.

Imagine for a moment, being this vampire. You were living out your day, a nice, calm, normal day when suddenly a man you had never seen before in your life decided to attack you. He promptly chopped off every single one of your limbs and then lit you on fire. The next thing you know, you're waking up to find yourself face to angry face with one of the three rulers of the city, a spear shining just under your chin. Confusion would not begin to cover it.

The vampire stuttered and tried to squirm away from the spear but found that his limbs were still not available to him. “Please,” he begged, his eyes staring up into Babd's eyes as if he could portray just how absolutely pathetic and helpless he was with that gaze. “Please, I didn't do anything! I swear.”

Anand looked from the vampire to Babd and then back to the vampire again before she stood up and dusted her hands off on her jeans. “Well, you heard the man. He didn't do anything. So Babd, removed the spear if you would.” Babd looked to Anand for a moment, contemplating if following her instructions were the best choice before she pulled the spear away from the vampire. However, she didn't put it away. She kept it firmly pressed to her chest as she watched, ready to strike when the need called for it.

Anand walked over to the vampire and squatted next to him, giving her hand a small wave. Her gentle magic pulsed out and the gravel and rubble under the man shifted him around and formed a seat for him so that he was no longer on his back, staring up at them with no chance of looking around him properly. The vampire grunted at the discomfort for a moment before the spell settled then found himself in a rather comfortable position, despite the fact that his seat was made of stone, asphalt, and remains of buildings.

“Thank you,” he said as he took a look around the the ruins about them. He wasn't sure what had happened but the rulers of the city were there, aggressive, and ready for a fight. He imagined it wasn't anything good. Then his eyes fell on Macha and her burned side and his breath caught in his throat. It had to be the hunter who burned him. There was no question in his mind about it. The man seemed to like burning things. Hell, the hunter burned him almost to death and he said he would come and do it again and again. Macha must have been injured by that hunter somehow. The vampire didn't leave his eyes on the injured Macha for long, afraid to offend the other two. He instead looked to Babd who was leaning against her spear, watching his every move.

“Did you kill him?” The vampire asked and Babd narrowed her eyes in confusion at him.

“Who?” She asked, her magic flaring around her a moment, causing the vampire's voice to catch in his throat at the sight.

“I meant no disrespect Lady Morrigan! I was simply speaking about the hunter that attacked me and most likely attacked Macha as well. Please, I meant no disrespect!” The magic around Babd died down slightly and she turned her eyes onto Anand who had her eyes cast down to the ground in thought, her thumb between her teeth. Babd knew that look all too well and didn't say anything as Anand thought hard about the information they were just provided.

“This hunter,” she began before she looked to Macha, the scenes from before playing in her head like a movie film, “was he mortal?”

The vampire nodded enthusiastically, happy to provide any kind of service to his queens so as to keep his head planted firmly on his shoulders. “Yes! Human, I would think.” He answered.

Anand stood up and slowly began to pace back and forth in front of the vampire, her eyes having a light glow of magic that danced behind those glistening irises. She was deep in thought, contemplating the problem that they would have if it got out that a human had harmed them so severely. If humans learned that they could do so much damage, it would only be a matter of time before those humans who had always had a problem with them and the mystical population rose up and revolted. They had always squashed the human rebellions easily.

Humans are just that, human. They are mortal. They can't possibly hope to stand up to her and her sisters, especially if they all merged and formed The Phantom Queen. However, here now was the proof that a human could do that. And not only stand up against them but severely injure one of them. Without Macha at her full, healthy self, they could not hope to take their merged form. They were limited in their power, despite how powerful it was.

She cursed inwardly as she gnawed her nail down to the bed. This was bad. This could be bad. They had to perform some serious damage control. She looked to the vampire then looked to Babd and in that moment, there was a silent understanding made. There could be no witnesses to Macha's damage. Not a single word could be let loose upon the city's population.

Babd raised an eyebrow before shrugging lightly and straightening to her full height. She spun her spear about once, stepping up to the vampire. She placed a gentle hand on the top of his head. “Thank you for your assistance.” And with that, she plunged the spear through the vampire's heart. A gurgle escaped the vampire as he stared up at her in disbelief. She ripped her spear free and then with a swift swipe, the top of the makeshift chair and the vampire's head went falling back. She gave her spear a swift flick and the blood splattered to the ground, leaving her spear once more smear free.

Huggin remained in the back, watching the scene before him. His eyes moved from between Anand, Babd, and the vampire while the conversation took place. He wasn't surprised when the sisters decided it was best for the vampire to meet his end there. He would have done it himself if they had not. Macha was in far too weak of a state for anyone to know what had happened. Speaking of Macha, he turned to look at her, a pained groan escaping her parted lips, they needed to get her somewhere safe.

Anand heard Macha's groan and quickly rushed to her side, snatching up the bag she had placed on the ground earlier. She pulled one of the last two healing potions out and gave it to her. Babd watched her before she sighed. “What do we do now? If we're going around killing people for seeing Macha like this, than we need to move her, now.”

“I know!” Anand said, her voice rising a bit in irritation and a hint of panic. “I just don't have the power of earth that Macha has. I can't just sink us into the ground like she does.” Babd allowed her eyebrows to rise at the sudden outburst from her sister. It was growing quite clear that anxiety and worry was getting to Anand now. Babd and Huggin shared a look just as Mal began to wake up.

Huggin looked down to see Mal had grabbed then released his ankle. He sneered lightly before taking a step to the side, away from Mal. Great, the wolf was waking up. Huggin regretted not taking the chance to put a bullet between the man's eyes but Anand felt it wasn't necessary and she had taken the gun away from him. His chance was lost and now the thing was waking up. Huggin huffed as he turned his eyes back on the women ahead of him, as if ignoring the wolf would just make it go away.

When Mal sat up and asked if it was over, Babd looked to him and gave a small smile. She spun her spear around behind her back and stepped up towards him as he stood, her shorter frame bringing her head only to his abdomen. She looked up at him before her smile grew and she gave a small laugh. “For now. Good fighting wolf. I saw you in there. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.” Huggin huffed and rolled his eyes, Babd turning her mischievous eyes on the man. “Oh come now Huggin, even you have to admit, if it wasn't for him finding the path to Macha so quickly, this fight would have gone on much longer.” Hugging just shook his head.

When Mal thanked him for not killing him, Huggin just narrowed his eyes and gave a loud huff of annoyance. “Don't thank me. I didn't have a choice. You should be thanking Anand over there,” he said as he gestured with his chin towards the motherly magic user who was tolling over Macha frantically. “She wouldn't let me shoot you.”

When Mal made a comment on what could have hurt Macha, Anand paused and looked at him, her eyes a glow with magic that ticked like a clock. “Breath shells?” She questioned, ignoring the hunter part. They had already established that it was a hunter through the vampire. However, the breath shells was new to her. She didn't know what that was but she was most surely going to find out. Her magic pulsed out and she waved her hand in front of her face, runes forming in the air before her. The runes condensed into what looked like a long screen. She slid her fingers along it and it acted like a touch screen, reacting to her touch and flashing images and videos before her. Eventually, the images of Dragon's Breath shotgun shells settled before her and she examined them intently, trying to find out if it was simply a mortal item or if she would have to dig into her sister to repair some kind of magic damage.

As Anand worked, Babd had stepped away from Mal once more and was watching over her sister's shoulder at the different images that flashed across the magical screen. She frowned at the sight of the shotgun shells before looking at Macha on the ground. No wonder she was so wounded. That was quite the punch some mortal weapon seemed to have. After getting her fill of the pictures, she stepped away from Anand and began to spin her spear about her as a thousand different thoughts ran through her head.

When Mal spoke about his shirt, using Odin's Proto-Norse name, Huggin stiffened and he locked a gaze on Mal so intense, he could bore a hole into steel if his eyes could produce heat. The wolf could joke, he could make comments about Huggin all he wanted, but the raven made the choice right then and there, if for any reason he had to die, Huggin would be the one to bring forth the finishing blow. To hear his old master's name come from the wolf's mouth, and so flawlessly, Huggin had to tighten his hands on his spear to keep from lashing out at the wolf in that very moment.

Perhaps that was just a coincidence that the shirt producers had used Odin's name in such a manner. Perhaps not. Either way, the word caused Huggin's grip to grow so tight, the spear creaked in protest and his knuckles were white. Somehow the spear did not snap in his grip and he finally turned his eyes from Mal onto Babd who was pacing in front of them, her spear spinning in a deadly circle around her as she thought.

Anand sighed and stood up. “I'm going to carve a circle around Macha.” Babd stopped spinning her spear and only watched as her sister moved her things close to Macha before she began walking around her in a circle, the familiar glow of her magic developing an intricate design on the ground below her feet. “I don't have much magic left right now. So you have,” she paused a moment to look up at the moon before she continued her steps and speaking, “about three hours before I'm tapped out. By that time, we will need to find a real suitable place for Macha to heal.” The circle under Macha grew more and more intricate as Anand stepped more and more briskly. “Babd, Huggin, you know what to do.”

When Mal asked what now, Babd looked from Anand and looked at him, her black eyes glistening in the moonlight. “We hunt the hunter.”

[Lighthouse]

Oak eyes closed, blinked, shielded themselves away from the chaos around him. The slight thrum against his temples, stress perhaps? Headache, the word came to him on the throbbing sensation. Yes, a thing not used to by any measure, and of course the source of such a plight was the acting. It was -easy- to rip, chew, slash right through, but this? This was stressful boys and girls. This wasn’t as fun as one thought at first, but then…

Perhaps Vel used that low count of brain cells creatures show at times. As if the idea just struck him, and in truth it did, a quizzical look on his face.

Mozart, well, reportedly is a good example of what happened.

They would always dim the lights before the orchestra played. The young music lord to be, thought it was to make the colors brighter. You see, he had a condition known as synesthesia, where different vibrations and tones pitch colors to the brain. Mozart didn’t know that everyone else couldn’t see them. It surprised him in fact to learn that others couldn’t, and that the lights dimmed merely to focus people's attention.

Vel was surprised that not everyone else could smell the magnesium.
Even further he was confused by the fact, if they wanted him, why not go get him?

Ah, I see.

There is no slow pace in grace, is there? Grace is rhythm, timing, not laziness. There was a warbeat in his movements. There was thunder in the quiet way that his paws… feet… moved across the concrete, not a single pebble daring to rattle away. Oh, it was human teeth that showed, but at least Vel kept himself from a glimpse of anything sharp. Traitorous oak eyes, that so very much wanted to be green or glowing gold, moved between the scenes till at last it settled upon Babd. To the Lady they rested, not hunted, nor threatened, but gentle soft above that honest smile.

A slight flourish and a mad hatter bow was given.

“From you a kiss and I’ll bring him to you, nary a hair touched on his pretty little head.”

Sweet smile for Babd became a sugar toothed half smirk, as casual gaze was sent to the Raven. Not a challenge, not mockery, but an animal taking a trophy from another. See, there was no challenge, or at least the Wolf thought. I know you now. I know your tricks, trickery, and soft spots.

I should end you right now, pest.
“Oh? And it will cost Huginn a feather as well.”

The Wolf stopped the body that once was Mal from its overly playful movements.
Don’t you see though? It was the opportunity to be himself. To get just a little bit of the steam pressure out of his skull. Though it wasn’t doubt which answered back to him in the Lady’s eyes. It was a contract nearly signed. Almost there Vel, he thought to himself now that he was able to clearly think to himself. Almost there.

“Complete annihilation it is.”

Vel saw it.
Tasted it on Babd’s gaze as she looked at him.
Contract signed.

“You and your sisters demolished an entire city, the least I can do is take care of an ant.”
Deal done.

There it is, right there if they knew. It was the body which remembered how to behave in a court. Vel didn’t ignore instinct, and now knew the value of other ways of thinking of things. Look at how courtly he was, a noble soldier.

“Just be mindful of that, it looks like a pregnant roller skate.”
Vel motioned with his index finger towards the mini-electric car parked there just on the side of the road. There was some rubble around it, but it was in no jeopardy of exploding.

And also it looks like what now?

Your attention was turned wasn’t it? You looked at that thing first before you asked the question about the joke. It was one of those thousands of magicians tricks humanity even from childhood seem to know. Remember that game? Isn’t that how cards transform from one into another? Don’t you hear the school yard bully all but singing ‘Haha made you look’?

Not hidden behind a curtain.
Not tucked inside a box one could stab swords through.

Do you remember how that puddle of black vanished when eyes weren’t on it?
That was because it was no longer needed here. No longer needed to be seen. So, it was gone. Now, Vel had no purpose to be here. Vel no longer needed to be seen. So, look away, Queen. Just over there sir Raven.

Deal is made. All that Vel needed to know.

Like a shadow when light is lifted to it.
Like a monster under the bed when the flashlight was turned on.

Vel, was gone.

Who was this man made of bats?
Why would something so odd be proud of him right now?
Such strange thoughts and memories the Wolf was finding in himself.
Vel wasn’t even sure why the event had such feelings of joy attached to duping them.

Don’t forget though.
Odin was a good teacher at times, wasn’t he Huginn?
Taught by a trickster God. Fun.
Not smashing through a giant golem kind of fun, but a different kind. A sneaky kind. A childish level of complexity, and that’s what made it so damned funny at times, wasn’t it Raven? Outsmarting mortals with stupidity. Why wouldn’t that be funny to a God of gods?

Gotcha!

---

Every hunter, no matter how arrogant, knows there is a chance that they’ll come up against something that puts them down. It could be a Wolf. Could be a parasite like a Vampire. Could be a walking, rather upset, woman made up cities like lego bricks. Thankfully he hadn’t stepped on any, but he sure as shit stepped into something hadn’t he?

Fear is something that pushes someone to be fast, to be quick, to do what needs to be done.
James ran, jacket with its magnesium scented jacket flapping in the wind.

This wasn’t the only place rented, a little roach hotel not far from here. The kind where a bright smile and fake identification was copied. The kind that didn’t mind him paying in cash. The kind people could vanish inside easily.

It didn’t take long to get there, ten minutes, fifteen?
The battle raging on in the distance, growing quieter, quieter… stopped.

Door was closed tight behind him, but James didn’t bother with the weak looking painted bronze chain that came standard in rooms like this. Nothing that possibly could have followed his wake would even notice something like that. Hurried, scared, but not panicked no… not that… the man dug beneath the bag to pull out a black duffel bag. Tools of the trade were on display inside in drop bag style jumble as the zipper was pulled free, but first thing done was to tuck that black little earbud into his right ear. Second was pushing a quick set of numbers into a burner phone.

“I know. I know”
From the bag another sawed off shotgun pulled, a clack of it opening, James making sure the telltale yellow marks of Dragon Breath shells were there. The sharp sound of it clacking closed followed by his next set of words.
“You hate it when I burn one of your voice mails like this. Whole hassle of having to set a new one up and all that.”
A knife, not smooth but with a wicked spear like indentation at the tip. It was divers who used such devices. After a good jab into an animal underwater, there was a little button right there near the thumb. A C02 cartridge in the handle would unleash, and the hidden channel would inflate the wound. Handy tool. Can really deter a shark, inflate a fish you want to the surface, or blow a big nasty hole in something above the surface.

“But this is one of those calls I guess. So, thanks. You are one of the people who get it.”

Yes, James had been a murderer, but that is killing people. How many nightmares had he slain? How many monsters who thought they could out monster humanity? That at least gets some respect in certain communities. Particularly since they never figured out just why he was so good at hunting. Contacts come with that territory doesn’t it? Even David had an army at his back when he slew Goliath. Some even had the pleasure of having friends. Some even have a Clarice to their Hannibal.

Somewhere between, was the ‘drop box’’s owner.
He knew the routine won't be listened to till some time tomorrow.
That is why he called it. That is why he left his Goodbye there.

A certain kind of people are called Hunters. You had to learn how to kill, all kinds of shit, to be able to use a name like that. It really took care of itself, either you ended up a corpse, or a hunter. There wasn’t any between for people who have scars. There wasn’t ever much of a hesitation when people like them asked, do you want to know the truth?

“I found him. I know, I know… “
The repeating of those words, like a nervous tick. ‘I know I know’.

“Moby, white whale, blah blah. There’s something else here. Something big here. It made some sort of giant out of the shit…”

A sigh, and the man just had to shake his head. Now his mind was allowing him to come to the terms of the truth to which he was telling the recording.

“I kid you not Wings”
His pet name for the receiver of this message
“It would swat Mothra. So be careful around these parts for a while.”

As if coming back to the reality of not life changing events, but rather getting moving or get ready for the dying, the man loaded a few more goodies into his belt line. Into that jacket that he next grumbled about.

“Ruined my good jacket, can you believe it? You never told me I looked good in it, but I know you thought so. Yeah, go ahead and admit it, I know you did.”

There wasn’t as much emotion in the man’s voice as there should be. Just flat tones of certainty. Yes, it took a certain kind of person to be a hunter.
You needed to be fucking stubborn and James was that.
Yes, James was that.

“I’m leaving you something. Rooms here for a week, 104. Treasures in the normal place, and the cards? I know you’ll check them, but they should be good for the month. Something's in the box, and no, it’s not an engagement ring. So don’t panic.”

His fingers took a second to run along the edge of several credit cards in a leather holder, but it lingered, stayed longer than it should have with that small jewelry box.

“First round is on me as usual, and I hope it’s at the bar while you’re playing this in my face. Calling me stupid and ordering another drink. ?You know me though. I’m that ‘hold my beer idiot’, and not even nuclear bombs and all that. Well, a cold one in hell doesn’t sound so bad either I guess.”

Do you remember that animals get distracted by phones? By their thoughts? By their own heads, and worst of all…
…the sound of their own voice?

James heard something, it wasn’t a step, or a crunch. It just was…quiet… as if the air had already been inhaled and left but a vacuum of tense anticipation.

“Gotta go, wish me luck.”

We learned earlier the man was good at this, turning, pulling a trigger with those almost trademarked sawed off shotguns with their specialized ammo.

Nothing was there.
No Wolf.
No giant.

No panic either, no not that.

A moment to calm the racing heart, James stashed the bag again below the bed.

He made it out to the parking lot, even managed to get the keys into the door of that stashed vehicle James was attempting to escape in. Change locations, but that hunch was correct. That feeling deep inside the feeling he wanted to deny was in truth perhaps that premonition good hunters get.

Today was the last day.

There was no turning. There was no shotgun blast. The voice was on the back of his neck, right there against him. Hot, heavy, wet, hungry words, that were the last things James heard.

---

How do you hunt something that was quite literally trained to slay Wolves?
Interesting isn’t it? A wolf asking that? But the answer was simple.
You don’t act like a Wolf.

No, Vel did not enter that room, though he could have.
That’s what a Wolf would do, and it would have netted him a fiery blast.
Instead a trick of the birds was used.

The Wolf waited, not just for the opportunity, but for Huginn to catch up.

Did the Raven notice the claw marks to where Mal had traveled? Or that it was as straight as, ahem, the crow flies? Come on now, get here already, the show is about to start.

Not from the dark places, but from the roof, there in the glaring sun to hide him… like a Hawk. Vel lept, soft as dreamless sleep, he landed behind the man.
That growling voice spoke.

“You smell like a Nelsen. Funny, killed a few of your family before. Don’t remember it being this easy.”

The back of the James’s head was seized, skull forced sharply forward with swift inhuman strength. Crunch. Both the side of the cars roof, and James’s face went. A dent in both, the human’s features, and the body of the red unignited car with peeling paint. Human’s were such fragile things. A gurgling sound, James wasn’t dead yet. Good.

Lifting him like a toy, a smashed, bleeding, limp toy by that grip that had yet to relinquish, Vel dragged the human off his feet. Held him high for Huginn to see. Vel grabbed the man's forearm, not by the wrist because that separates easier, and tore from James his limb. Like the hunter had taken from the Goddess? Demon? Walking city?

A tearing, bone snapping, tendon shredding sound. Wet. Red.
Gurgling screams.
The other arm.
More screaming gurgled, before trauma alone silenced James.
Again Vel tossed this bit of the hunter away without a thought.

Free hand, (that looked like a claw just for a moment there, didn’t it Huginn? ) dove into the hunters ruined jacket, as he hung there in the air. Vel found the tool of the trademark, that sawed off, that too smelled of magnesium. The Wolf pressed the barrow underneath the near-corpses chin, pressed it against the throat, pressed its form to aim at the spine.

“Obliteration.”

The Wolf whispered as if understanding the term for the first time, and pulled the trigger to send a spray of flame through. Severing spine. Searing flesh. Decapitating without claws or teeth.

Weight suddenly was a lot lighter. Only holding the head, but this too was dropped a moment later. A foot coming down, popping it like that one suicidal balloon at a party. It wasn’t to the gore, or the mess, or the pieces of James that Vel was looking once the red spray was out of the air. No, it didn't even matter to him now he seemed to be half covered in a new shade of red. Instead that hand, covered in drying fluid, reached up towards the distance between himself and Huginn.

No words needed, the statement clear…
Pay up.

[BunniesOfDoom]

A black crow flew over the large battle field, its eyes flashing from one body to the next. It was looking for a very specific thing here on this blood soaked land, the fading and dying warrior.

The Phantom Queen is more than just a title that warriors prayed to just before battle. The Morrigan, but more importantly Babd, played the role of soul guide for those who fell in battle. A psychopomp, as some would claim her to be. Her magic was linked to that abyss that lingered after death, that abyssal plain where nothing alive could remain.

Her touch could free the soul from the dying flesh and her magic would carve a path for it to find its way to its final resting place. So when her eyes finally laid upon that warrior who was taking their final breath, she shifted to her human form and dropped down next to him. A young Morrigan could be seen standing next to him, glistening armor upon her form, her black spear in her hands. “Warrior. You have fought well. A worthy death indeed.”

She knelt by the man and allowed her black eyes to lock on his, a gentle smile on her face. “You may finally rest. The fight is over.” She then reached out and touched his forehead, magic tendrils of magic spreading like ink from her fingertip. It seeped into her skin before his eyes rolled back into his head and he convulsed under her touch. His back arched harshly before he dropped down on the ground and finally grew still.

Only then did she begin to pull her hand away from the man, a blue line of wispy smoke following along behind her finger. She twirled her finger around, causing the smoke to swirl in upon itself before she reached up and snapped her hand into a fist around the smoke, anuffing it out completely. When she opened her hand again, the smoke was gone, only a black inky mark of her own magic on her palm left in its wake.

She once more turned into a crow and took to the air again, seeking another soul for her to harvest.

It had been a long time since Babd had served her roll as a Psycopomp, but when Vel stepped forward, bowed, and offered the agreement, there was a glint in her eyes like back then. He wanted a kiss? This man, who had no idea who she was, had no idea what her touch could do. Had no idea just what SHE could do.

A mischievous grin split her face in half and she locked her hungry eyes on Vel. “Very well, Malcome. You kill this hunter for me,” she turned her spear around and planted the spear head into the ground in finality, a deal he wanted and a deal he will strike, “and I will provide you with a kiss.”

She could warn him, she could explain to him just what it meant for her to touch him, especially touch him so intimately as such with a kiss but what fun would that be?

When he turned to face Huggin and say he needed a feather, Huggin looked appalled at the prospect. His feathers weren't some trophies for people to collect to put on display. However, before he could object, he felt the heat of Babd’s gaze upon him and instead of making a smart retort, he just clenched his lips into a thin line. He didn't answer except for the smallest of nods. He hated it but Babd was hatching a scheme and he wouldn't go against his Phantom Queen.

When Mal pointed to the car, Babd looked at it with a quiet sigh, almost indulging the man and his childish ways. When Vel left quickly, Babd turned to Huggin, a demented smile crossing her face. She pulled the spearhead from the ground and gave the dirt stuck to the metal a removing flick. “Huggin, do go keep an eye on my little wolf would you?” Her smile grew just slightly more as she looked at her reflection in the spearhead. “We don't want anything to happen to him before I can make him mine, hmm?” She peered up at Huggin, her gaze predatory. Huggin almost shivered under that gaze before he shifted to his bird form and took off after Vel. He almost felt bad for the wolf. Sometimes, Babd can be scary.

Huggin followed along behind Vel, keeping this wolf in his sight as he approached the hotel. He came to settle on the roof of the building, his eyes taking in the scene below. He watched as there was a loud bang from the shotgun, followed by the flames that he could only assume had burned Macha earlier. His feathers flared at the sight of it all. He had no idea humans were able to make such weapons of destruction. Perhaps it was time for them all to address the threat the humans were quickly becoming in the real world. They didn’t need magic, it seemed.

As Vel brought the man to a grisly end, Huggin stiffened at the prospect of giving a piece of him to this wolf. He watched as Vel stepped on the man’s head and it popped like a grape under pressure and then the hand came up in a clear gesture. He wanted his reward from Huggin. Huggin dropped his head in a menacing gesture before he reached back between his wings and plucked a feather that was on its way out anyways. He allowed his magic to flow along the feather, coating it lightly before he released it. If he was going to give a part of himself to this wolf, the least he could do was make use of it. His magic on the feather will make it so he could track that very feather, no matter where it went. He released the feather and allowed it to flutter down to Vel below, his eyes never once leaving the wolf.

After Vel took the feather, Huggin huffed before taking to the sky again and leading the way back towards the women. When they arrived, Babd was sitting on a makeshift seat just outside of the bubble that had Anand and Macha within, Anand working hard to heal their sister. When both wolf and bird appeared, Babd looked up at them. A smile slowly spread across her lips as Huggin shifted to his human form, walking up to her side and crossing her arms.

“I would ask if the task was done but judging by the look of Mal,” She took a scan of Huggin’s head and gave a small chuckle, “and the small patch of missing hair on the back of Huggin’s head, I’d say it was done.” She stood up and clapped her hands together. Her black magic flared out from her palms, thunder rumbling around them as she did so. She rubbed her palms together as she stepped up to Vel.

“First things first, I am not kissing a man covered in the blood of his enemy, no matter how glorious of a sight it may be.” She brought one of her palms forward, her magic flowing forward like black water. It cascaded along his form, gentle as a summer shower, and pulled the muck and grime from him. She gave her wrist a swift twist and the magic condensed to a ball before hovering back towards her. She reached out and snatched it out of the air, almost hungrily. When she opened her hand once again, the magic was absorbed again, the blood and gore absorbed into her being.

Oh yes, she was feeling very war godly right about now. Even her form adjusted to her sentiments. The black armor fell away, revealing heavily tattooed arms and chest. Her black wings slowly rose from her back as if they were tucked there the whole time. Her spear vanished and her clothes morphed into clothes that seemed more appropriate upon Macha than herself. A silky, translucent gown hung from her shoulders and fell down to gather on the ground at her feet, a thick belt of leather and metal seeming to be the only thing keeping her gown on her being.

Huggin’s breath caught for a moment at the sight of her before he slowly lowered down to one knee in front of her. He planted a fist on the dirt and cast his eyes down in respect of the deity that now stood before him. Babd was a warrior for sure and Huggin was very much used to that side of her but Babd was also a goddess of war and death and the form that she took now was no warrior. The being that stood before Vel now was the death aspect of the Phantom Queen, the seeker of souls, the traverser of fate. She did not take this form often but at this moment, she was seeking a soul. Vel’s soul, in particular. Perhaps if he kept his head down and showed his respect, Vel would be the only soul she would claim this day.

“A deal,” Babd’s voice rang out like a gentle chorus of bells as she rose from the ground with a small flap of her wings, “is a deal. A kiss for the slaying of an ant.” When she was at eye level with him, she leaned forward, her black eyes locked intently onto his. There was a darkness within those eyes of hers, as if a never ending pit sat just behind those irises. If one stared hard enough, they may even see a soul or two attempting to claw their way out of that very pit. They say the eyes are a gateway to the soul, hers were more the gateway to the pit of souls.

She leaned forward and crushed her lips against his, hungrily coiling her arms around his neck so that he couldn’t pull away from her. Her wings wrapped around him completely, crushing him into her as her magic pulsed and dove. Upon that contact, her magic got to work. Like a drill looking for oil, it sunk into his being, pushing through any opening it could find, nostrils, eyes, ears, any and every little hole was an access point for her magic, the mouth being the main point where the most of her magic pushed in. Godly magic pushed into his very essence, pulsing into his soul, mind, and body. It consumed him completely.

Her eyes were still locked on his as she watched him intently, her magic diving into his core and seeking it, his very soul. What she found wasn’t what she was expecting. In a flash of light, she found herself hovering just over an ocean. She looked around at the sight, a frown forming on her face as she tried to understand where she was and what she was witnessing. Normally, she would dive into a person’s being and grasp a soul. There wasn’t anything to it but here, it was as if she found herself in a storage box and the box was an ocean.

She looked around slowly, her eyes catching movement under the waves. She peered down and was surprised to see Mal there, under the water. He seemed to be drowning down there. She lowered herself to just above the water’s surface, staring down at him below the waves. So, that was how the two kept each other suppressed. Suddenly, the salt water manipulation upon the girl the day before made sense. She pondered the sight for a moment, questioning if she should do anything to help Mal. Was it her place? He had released the wolf, however, Mal had asked for them to kill him after everything was done. Perhaps they should have allowed Huggin to shoot Mal after all. She would have to address that later. For now, however, she had a wolf to find.

She turned from Mal and quickly looked around until her eyes fell on the wolf off on the shore. She grinned and tucked her hands behind her back. “Don’t Mal, we’ll get you out but for now, I have a wolf to claim,” her words dipped with such possessiveness, it almost made the air around her quiver. She zipped off, allowing her wings to take her to the wolf at amazing speed. She came to a sharp stop just over him, her eyes wide and her smile even more so.

“Surely, you were taught not to make a deal with the devil.” She lowered herself down to the wolf, her feet gently landing on the soft sand. Her magic had already begun to claim him even before she came into this headspace of theirs. She could see it oozing from him like toxic fumes. “You should think before you ask things of gods,” she hissed out the last word.

She reached out and her finger touched his forehead and the magic stiffened instantly as it listened and followed her call. It flowed along his body before finally coming to settle around his wrists, forming thick shackles, and the last of it condensing around his neck in a thick, black metal color. She gave a dark laugh as she raised a hand, a chain of black metal forming from her palm to the collar around his neck. She gave it a mighty tug so that he was looking directly at her, her eyes manic at the sight of her new pet. “You’re mine now pup. Welcome to an eternity of servitude.” And with that she began to rise, pulling him along with her by the chain. She gave another laugh as her magic built behind her, gathering as she prepared her exit, her new soul tightly in her grasp.

The magic released and she launched off like a rocket, pulling Vel with her as she ripped through all the magic, through the headspace, through reality until she was back within her body, her lips still pressed firmly upon Vel’s lips. She blinked once, twice, then released Vel from her grasp. At some point during the kiss, she had risen off the ground with him still tightly bound in her grip. She watched as he dropped down, seeing with her magical eyes the new metal collar around his neck. She grinned fiercely before she turned her eyes on Huggin. The raven flinched under that gaze.

“Huggin,” she said as she slowly lowered herself back to the ground, her bare feet coming to silently settle on what was left of the road below her. “Get the gun please. I think it’s about time we talk to Mal again. Though it’s been quite the pleasure Vel,” she said as her eyes turned once more to her sweet, sweet new wolf. “Fear not, you’ll be coming out again. I just need to talk to the human for a little bit.” She crouched down, resting a gentle, almost a motherly hand on his cheek, “You’re mine now and I’ll be damned if you stay locked away, my little wolf.” She stood as she began to revert back to her warrior form. Her magic flowed along her and condensed into her armor, her wings once more sinking into her back.

While Huggin got to work on getting the gun, Babd walked over to the bubble that held Macha and Anand. She gave a swift three knocks on the bubble, Anand looking up at them in shock. She looked around at the scene before she gave a wide swipe of her hand, the bubble dispersing from around them.

“What happened,” she asked as she slowly stood up. Macha was looking much better at this point. Her arm was still missing and the damage there was still being worked on but the burns on her face were fully healed and her right side was nothing but burn blisters at this point. Anand had been hard at work and it was very obvious in her pale face. Babd frowned slightly.

“You need to not work yourself so harshly. If you push too hard, you might find yourself worse than Macha.” Anand waved it off before turning her eyes onto Huggin who had just found the gun and was making his way to Vel.

“Hey! I said that we didn’t need to shoot Mal! What do you think you’re doing Huggin?” She asked, angrily. Before she could push pass Babd and stop him, Babd grabbed her arm and kept her from going anyways.

“Trust me, sister. We’re just keeping a promise we made earlier. A lot has been happening. Let’s get Mal back then we can all sit and have a nice little talk. I need to know what Mal has done exactly to make that beast.” A smile crossed Babd face, her beast now. Anand watched Babd for a moment before she crossed her arms, a frown on her face. However, she trusted her sister. If Babd said this needed to be done, then it needed to be done. So she just sat down, crossed legged on the ground and waited. Perhaps Babd was right, Anand was exhausted. Maybe she did need to take a moment to rest.

---

”Gotta go, wish me luck.” Then the sound of a shotgun blasting was the last thing before the voicemail came to an end. Wings had heard the end of friends and family in such a matter many times before but this one was different. This was James, her James. Her chest was tight as she once more listened to the voicemail for a third time. Each time, the shotgun blast felt like a punch to the chest. She had already tried to call him, fifteen times. Each time, the call instantly went to voicemail. It, technically, didn’t mean he was dead. It just meant that his burn phone was dead but she knew, knew in her very soul that that wasn’t the case. Her James was no longer with them, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. She slowly lowered her phone down in practiced control. She knew better, knew that getting this close to anyone was a mistake. They were hunters and hunters don’t live to the ripe old age of 60.

She slowly rose from her chair, giving a soul crushing sigh before she rolled her shoulders as if shrugging off the pain. She had a hunt to lead. James had done it. He had finally found Cerberus but he also found something else, a giant he said. Something that could swat Mothra, he had said. That was something new, even to her. She had been hunting her whole life. This was a family career and she had never heard of something so large that it could swat a fictional creature as large as Mothra. They had to go see what was going on over there. Despite Jame’s warning. She needed to know about that creature and she needed to check on James. Just in case. Just in case.

She walked to the edge of her desk and pressed a button on her intercom. “Yes,” came a male voice on the other end.

“Gather a reconnaissance team. We’re going to Leygas, Ohio. James was last known in that city and he found Cerberus and other creatures. Prepare for dangerous monsters. We may be going into a battle ground.”

“Yes ma’am. Are we flying?” The voice asked over the com. She pondered a moment before giving a small nod.

“Yes, we’ll fly. We leave in 2 hours.”

“Acknowledged.” The com voice said before the connection was cut off, leaving the woman once more in silence in her office. She took another look at her phone before she slipped it into her pocket and began for the door of her office.

“We’ll bring you home James and I’ll hang that mutt’s pelt on my wall.” She exited her office, slamming the door closed, a small photo hanging on the wall falling on the ground and shattering. A photo of James and her, arm in arm with huge grins on their faces. They would pay.