Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Lutetia City: Fountainbleu

Tiko

Draconic Administrator/Mentor
Administrator
Mentor
Nexus GM
as written by Hyll

An apartment in Fontainebleu, early morning.

Everything smelled like battery acid, stingy, disgusting.
Mortimer was lying on a bed, facing the ceiling. Everything was pulsing, like static. Static everywhere. Buzzing. Mortimer pulled the balaclava off his face, letting his face taste the rancid air in the apartment. Wait, why was the balaclava there? He tucked it into the pocket of his red woolen shirt, back where it belonged. He did not remember a goddamn thing. Every single noise was a sharp sting of electricity. His shirt was crusted with dried saliva and vomit, looked like old apple juice.

He rose up from the bed, trying to get a footing, but the room was flooded. The water was swirling with shades of pink and dark brown, bottles, dissolving printing paper, a couple syringes and inhalers and a rubber duck floating around. The light hurt his eyes, everything hurt. He could not see or hear. He stumbled towards the door, busting it open and letting the water into the rest of the condo. This wasn't right at all. He was on all fours and vomited on the soiled carpet. He saw a gash of red in the mixture and immediately checked if he had vomited blood. No? No, it wasn't from him. He pulled his head up and saw a limp man in college pants and a white tank top, covered entirely in blood originating from a gaping bullet wound that had busted his skull open on the kitchen floor. This wasn't right at all.

He climbed up on the door frame and tried to stand still and examine his surroundings. Whimpering. Someone was in the bathroom whimpering, pleading, scratching. Not worth opening, he thought. More unwanted and forgotten memories there. He heard soothing ukulele music in his head, distorted by incoherent vocals and scratching sounds. That's all he could think of. He waddled to the living room. A long-haired man was lying on the couch, gibbering, twisting, opening and closing his mouth, spurting out blood once in a while. Poor man had chewed three of his fingers and his tongue off. Opposite of the couch was a television, showing nothing but static. Static. Everything is static.

Mortimer tried to make his way to a table with a black worn suitcase on it, opened as well. He opened an orange pill bottle, and grabbed a few tablets and chewed them. Everything was calm. He was in connection with the fabric of the universe, an endless stream of ukulele tunes and waves singing. He packed the pills, four vials of Vigor along with two empty ones, some lightbulbs, plastic bags and a loaded handgun into the suitcase, closed it, and put on his round sunglasses. None of this mattered anymore, he thought. Just the music of the universe. He got out of the apartment, everything was calm in the hallway. He made his way to the stairs and finally exited the building to the street in Fontainebleu, basking in the first rays of sunlight. The sun was dancing, like static. Static.

He wandered into the sunrise, towards his cellar pad to take a shower with his clothes on. He left the briefcase on his beanbag chair and went to the shower, where he slept for three hours without waking up. When he woke up, he was completely soaked, lying on the floor staring at the ceiling tiles pulsing like waves singing, sunrays dancing, music playing, static buzzing, blood swirling.

All was right in the world.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
as written by Tiko and Hyll

A sharp voice split through the pulsing waves of music and colors that were swirling through Mortimer's perception.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Varia spat out.

The sounds of someone rummaging through his apartment filled his ears as she overturned his belongings and emptied drawers. The suitcase from last night was turned upside down as well as she shook it out onto the floor.

She paid the gun no mind as she sifted through the pills and vials that spilled out. A moment later she picked up the empty vial with a frown and giving it an experimental sniff.

"Hey, you," she said as she jabbed her foot into his ribs to try and get his attention. "Is this what you took?" she asked as she squatted down and held the vial in front his face.

The woman was a stranger to him, but the light reflecting off her numerous piercings and the intricate tattooing no doubt added to the psychedelic swirl of colors swimming before him.

____

Mortimer yelped at the sharp pain in his side and quickly scrambled up, yanking the hunting knife from the leg of his shorts and swinging it towards the air for a few times. He let out a slurry and stingy yell: "God damnit who are you?! My fucking stuff, my stash! Fucking harlot!", the rest trailing off into something incoherent.

____

Varia was the quicker of the two though. As the human slashed his knife at her wildly, she closed the distance with a single step. Her fingers gripped his wrist tightly while her other hand found his throat to push him back into the wall to pin him.

"Shut the fuck up, while I try to figure out what the fuck to do with you," Viara bit out vehemently. "Now, what did you take?"

He gradually stopped squirming, and finally calmed down enough to speak coherently:

"Sorry, it's not-..No...I-..It's not the Vigor it's the-..the pills!" He pointed at the pill bottle on the floor, with the rest of the contents laid out on the carpet.

"They help me get a hold of myself, i-...look you shouldn't scare me like that it's-..it's..." He squinted his eyes a bit, and stood up.

"Look, can i peel your skin off? It's- ...it's making me hard to concentrate."

Varia removed the knife from his grasp and tossed it aside before grabbing his chin to turn his eyes back to her own. Even her eyes were an unusual color, swirling with the golden amber of a wolf's eyes.

"Get ahold of yourself and tell me what's in the bottle," she told him. "What did you take."

He tried to avoid looking directly into her eyes.

"I-..It's-..I don't know, okay? I hardly use them, it's just something i get from the pharmacies. I-...It's probably thorazine? It can't be because i'm seeing..th-..things."

Varia's scowl deepened. She could either throw him in the shower and wait for him to sober up, or she could take him with her as is. She finally released her hold on his throat and gave him a push towards the door.

"Come on, let's go," she told him.

Mortimer lacked coordination to resist the woman, only releasing a series of mutterings while slightly flailing his arms.

"Hey you-..can't leave my stuff there i-..the cops. I'll get-..Where are we going?"

"Family get-together," Varia answered dryly as she gave him another shove to get him moving out the door.

He let out a nervous laugh while sweating profusely.

"I-..i'm not-..it's-...i don't have any family, i'm sure you have the wrong person! Eh, you're not a cop, right?"

"Do I look like a cop?" she asked.

Her bike was sitting out front of the building where she finally stopped pushing and prodding him along every step of the way so she could get on it.

"Get on," she told him. "And don't let go."

If they managed to make it to the estate without him trying to jump off, or simply falling off, she would be astounded. But she didn't rightly have the patience to deal with taking him there on foot, nor did she care to leave her bike unattended.

"And if you throw up on my bike, I swear to fuck I will end you," she growled.

"I don't know, uh, a lot of the prostitutes here are double agents, just never mind."

He climbed on reluctantly and held tight on the woman's waist, slumping down a bit.

"I-..might need a nap, so, drive slow wherever we are going..."

His request was met with the lurch of the bike as she sped off down the street.
 
as written by Rōnin an Sentry

Corso walked the streets of Fontainebleu alone and unnoticed. His business in Luskionos had diverted his plan of action. Lornaine Forrest would have to wait. He still had things to do in the city ... much as he loathed this place. A rattling caught his attention from a nearby alleyway, the necromancer looking over his collar into the darkness. Two sets of eyes returned his glare, unblinking and bloodshot. They sized him up. They let him pass.

He walked the roads and stopped before a hotel. Grey eyes flickered to the copper-rusted brass entrance, the smoking 'doorman' reading a paper, before flitting up to the illuminated sign over the porch. 'Naga's Rest'.

Hands stuffed in his coat, the necromancer walked into the lobby, exchanging a wary glance with the man stationed at the front. He made his way through the lobby, past sets of time-worn furniture and and aged decor that vaguely spoke of an Eastern influence, before making his way down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, near the end of the hallway, was a metal door. A red light flickered above it.

Corso paused. The light sparked in his irises and turned cloudy grey to blood. He stared it for a long while before finally taking a step towards it, then another, and another until he was within arms reach. He knocked.

The door opened up a sliver to reveal a singular, violet eye. There was no moment of hesitance when a sharp voice asked, "Who are you coming to see?"

"Mother," he replied.

The eye bobbled, and the door unlocked. "And Mother is here to see you."

Behind the door there was a long red hallway and a small, violet-eyed girl. She was a young one, round face and bambi eyes framed by dark hair. She wasn't even half Corso's height. She was dressed in a manner too old for her. A high neck, long sleeves, so modest for the time... and the place.

Corso regarded her silently, his expression blank and devoid of any trace of lust or apprehension. The dim lighting still obscured much of his face, but the girl would have seen that his hair was black and waivy, and that his eyes were a shade of grey so light that they almost blended in with the surrounding sclera.

After giving the man a quick once-ober, she motioned for him to follow. The stiff-faced child lead him down the hallway, almost to the end, and brought them into one of the many rooms that lined it. After their initial greeting, she was deathly silent. Even her steps made no sound as they kept walking, room after room decorated with large, lovely beds and scarlet lights.

Soon, they broke through the maze to a pair of large oak doors. The handles were made of brass, molded into snarling wolves.

Without a word, the doors opened.

This room held no resemblance to those before it. It was not plain, nor was it doused in red light. It was pleasant, the furniture styled with the swirls and designs of classic Lutetia. Delicate, draping curtains layered the path to a bed settled inside of the white tiled floors- a style very indigenous to Losenyu.

The curtains pulled away, one by one, to reveal the Mother sitting upon the bed, swathed in the layers of a silk, ivory gown.

She wasn't nearly as frightening as the rumors beheld. Her features were devilish, yes. Her nails glazed and pointed at the end. In fact, she was quite stunning.

It was something in her eyes that put a certain tremor through those who dared looked to them, however. The way the ends of her lips turned up- oh, so gently- in a confident smile.

"Ah," she sang, spreading her lithe arms widely in an arc. "Corso. At long last."

Corso took stock of the decor, the perfect blend of classic Lutetian and exotic Losenji. Eastern fashion trends were not entirely unheard of throughout the city; Lutetian citizens were always looking for an escape from the grey and mundane. Restaurants, tea houses, art museums ... Corso doubted if any captured the genre as accurately and as beautifully in the way Taiyi had done it in something as simple as a bedroom.

And speaking of beauty...

"Miss Taiyi Moreau," the necromancer lay a hand below his chest and bowed slightly at the waist. He looked about mid-thirties, handsome but tired, dark circles rimming his eyes and a light scruff foresting his jaw. "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I didn't expect my request for an audience to be put through so quickly." He smiled lightly. "...or that you would even remember me, for that matter."

The werewolf aimed her chin toward her chest adoringly, hands closing as she pursed her lips.

"My dear, do not belittle the favors you have given to me. In times past, when I needed a hand, you had the dead lend theirs. When I needed a stitch, you were there with the needle." Her eyes closed in a delighted sigh. The woman's hands clasped above her heart.

"I choose a gracious few outside the Nightshades to see my face." Her eyes blinked open. "Consider this a great honor and an extension of trust from me to you."

"Then I am honored," Corso replied, rising back to his full height, "I only hope that I can ... repay this trust." His hands came together and he slipped off a pair of fingerless gloves. Taiyi might have noticed a faded symbol etched into the back of his left hand - a black insignia with a texture that left it somewhere between a tattoo and a scar.

"I've been gone for quite some time," the necromancer continued, meeting her gaze with cool focus. "Have you found other practioners in the meanwhile, or is there still use for my services in this family?"

Taiyi rested her hands in her lap and lifted her chin at Corso. "My time is valuable. Had I seen no further use in your skillset, I would not have agreed to see you in person so quickly. Tell me, Corso, does your magic burn as strongly as before?"

For the first time, Corso quirked a brow - his expression a mild mix between amused and curious. He stepped forward, extending his palm upright. Something like flame and smoke sparked up from his hand, tendrils of cloud-strained light that curled around his palms and twined his fingers in shades of black and red and a lusty, venomous green. The magic strobed against Corso's face, lighting the edges of his jaw and setting his eyes aflame in a dance of color and mist. A sweet, musky scent rose from the smoke - sharp and subtle, almost alcoholic in its tang.

"Miss Moreau," Corso smiled, "I assure you, I burn only brighter since last we met."

The flame created light within Taiyi's dark eyes as she marveled. Her fingers steepled.

She motioned to the young girl who had escorted Corso in- "Get a chair!" she called to her. "We have much to speak about."

The child scuttered quickly, soundlessly, to retrieve what had been requested, and set it behind Corso gently.

Taiyi leaned forward, arms around her legs, chin on her knees. "For what other reason have you come, other than to request work here with my Nightshades?"

"Thank you," Corso nodded at the girl, smoothing his coat against his legs and assuming the chair. He brought his hand to his head and brushed his fingers through his raven locks.

"I've been pursuing a..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "...pastime..." his lips quirked into a grin for a moment. "...one that I've been trying to bring into fruition for a long time. In order to do this, I need to acquire some rather expensive artifacts from some rather powerful people." He kept his eyes locked on Taiyi's, not once allowing his gaze to travel the length of her legs or the slender curve of her neck down to places other men would doubtless fixate on. Whether he was deliberately holding himself back or simply uninterested remained to be seen, but there was a flirtatious edge to his magic, his words, and now, his look.

"I confess, my wish to work with you again is not entirely a professional desire," he admitted with a slow nod, "I understand that your Nightshades frequently entertain gentlemen from the Lemeux district ... church clergymen, in particular." A brief flash of shadow paned his eyes. "They have something I want - the Ravens. One of the artifacts." He blinked, and the darkness was gone. A light smile touched his jaw. "In exchange for my services, I would ask for your help in procuring information concerning the whereabouts of this artifact."

The woman's pale, thin fingers laced and tapped along the backs of her hands as her eyes glazed in thought.

"I do take particular care in avoiding such people, dear. They have a particular fascination with those I associate with..." Her eyes narrowed on the man before her. "And those I employ. Many would do away with my Daughters upon discovery of their true nature." She turned her gaze onto the young child and cooed to her. "And I don't like it when someone else hurts my babies."

The pack leader pinned her eyes on Corso's once more. Such fascination she had with them- such malice that were still within her own. "You'll have to lend me some pretty big favors, darling."

"They're careful," Corso replied, "only a few I know of who are lustful enough to satisfy themselves with your daughters. I only want one of them."

He watched her carefully at the mention of 'favors'. Corso was no fool. A favor to a woman like this could be worth more than his weight in gold.

"What sort of work did you have in mind?" he asked, "or is this one of those things that will be named at a later time?"

The cultured werewolf placed her hand onto her cheek. "There are many things I could have you do. Patience is key, however. You'll know what you need when you need to know. I will send one of my Daughters out. Was there a specific Raven you were after?"

"His name is Edwin Nalrose," Corso replied, "I don't know what pseudonym he uses when he comes to your brothels. Tall. Average build. Thinning blonde hair. Slightly hooked nose, talks with a lisp when he gets excited. He frequents two of your properties - this one, and the one beneath the nightclub off of Varouk." The necromancer settled in his chair, one of hands sliding along the arm. "There were police investigations three years ago. Charges of kidnapping and pedophilia leveled against him. I'd wager to say he likes the young ones. Early teens."

He brought a hand up to his chin and thumbed along his jaw. "I would tell you more, but I'm still a bit uneasy about this deal we're making. If I consent to this favor, I'm giving you all the power. There's nothing you couldn't make me do." A low chuckle escaped his throat and he grinned curiously. "I'm not entirely sure if I like that ... not having control."
 
as written by Sentry and Ronin

Taiyi's little finger trailed along her lips as she played with the idea in her head. She didn't break his gaze at all.

"You'll get used to it," she claimed with a chortle. "Or do you find the thought too shameful? To be bound by word to a woman who runs brothels and leads criminals."

"I find it distasteful to be bound by anyone," he replied smoothly, "I've worked hard to remain a free man in a city built by covens, packs and churches. I value my independence."

He looked at her for a long while, studying the curve of her lips, the arch of her brow ... the viscious malice and cunning lurking behind her pupils.

"Are you sure there's no way for the two of us to come to an agreement that satisfies both of us?" he reclined in his chair, turning his hand and inspecting the insignia on the back of his palm. "My services and powers are many. You'll find there's very little I won't do to procure this information." His eyes flashed up to hers. "Provided, of course, that I know what I'm doing before I consent to doing it."

Switching her gaze from Corso's face to his palm, she inspected the mark that sat there. The nail pressed to her lip created a crease.

A deep hum came from the nubile matriarch, and in one fluid motion she rose to her feet. The gown trailed behind her and over the folds of the bed in a slither. She moved weightlessly toward the seated necromancer.

"Corso," she purred, caressing his name with so much affection. One couldn't deny how genuine it felt.

She stepped off the bed and onto the floor directly in front of her guest. There was no fear in her eyes, nor in her movements. Though she had both seen and heard of the feats this man could achieve, the woman knew he wouldn't so much as touch her without her permission.

No one would.

Her hands extended in a shrug and a sigh, playful in manner. "Dearest. Do you know of the Bloodstones and the Scions?"

To Corso's credit, he remained - or at least appeared - undaunted by Taiyi's advance, betraying nothing other than a sly smile as the leader of the Nightshades sashayed off her sheets and stood at her full height before him. He kept his eyes locked on hers, resting his head against his chair - seeming perfectly relaxed and comfortable.

"Prominent wolf packs," he replied easily, "operate mainly in Vargeras. Bitter rivals." His tattooed hand went to his armrest and traced smooth lines into the wood. "Been causing quite the stir lately, as I understand it."

Taiyi's red lips slid over her teeth. She nodded, "Yes," and turned her head to face the window. "Such a thunderous sound they make, isn't it? They don't care to whisper and keep quiet." She rose her hand to the side of her mouth, as though speaking hush-hush to the necromancer.

"Isn't that perfect for us? Some have died during their racket. A shame that death must silence such powerful warriors." She switched her stare from the window, to him, then back through the window. "If only there were a way to... cure that."

For the first time, Corso's vision narrowed. "And by 'cure', Miss Moreau, I assume you're not talking about a simple corpse-slave that falls to the ground as soon as my power leaves it. You're talking about a Draugr. A Nephilim. Something that works and functions on its own ... your own personal warrior elite, raised from the dead to do your biding."

It was as though he were reading her mind, and Taiyi reveled in the thought. "That will be no real problem for you, now, will it, Corso?"

Corso regarded her for a long while, brows drawn and furrowed as he tried once again to read the Nightshade matriarch. "Madame. You must understand what you ask." He slid back the chair and rose to his full height, glaring at Taiyi before turning towards the window and walking a few feet. "The necromantic cults are a fractured, disorganized lot. Since the Night of Black Tears they've disagreed on just about every thing that can be argued about our craft - the philosophy of our art, its practition, its ultimate purpose..."

He spun on his heels, ice and stone in his eyes. "We agree on this. Only this." He drew closer. "To create new life - to imbue a working body with that first spark of life and then relinquish all control, all dominion, letting it will and act on its own..." He shook his head. "...is the worst, most heinous kind of abomination."

He took two steps and closed the distance between them.

"I will do it." His voice was cold. "But understand - you will have to control them."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," the packleader answered, accepting the challenge freely and without doubt. If there was any apprehension about the deal, she was too pleased about it.

"The way you speak about it. If it can withhold such a reputation, I wish to see the amount of fear it will strike into the leaders of Bloodstone and the Scions. Their allies raised against them-" A hiss of air was pulled in through her teeth. "Tell me further of this man you wish for me to lure."

Corso smiled. "He's a high-ranking clergyman with the Ecclesiarchy..." He held out his palm, a flash of white light sparking from his hand. The magic condensed itself into the image of what looked like a shining pearl. "...and one of the few men in Lutetia who knows the whereabouts of this: the Pleur de'Elueu. 'The Tears of God'. Sacred energy stones that power the armor of the Monastic Order." He dropped his hand and the light dispersed.

"I need to know where they're kept," he continued, "and I need Edwin to remain alive. I doubt he'll be willing to part with such important information..." He grinned. "...but I'm sure you and your daughters will find some way to convince him."

Taiyo returned the grin, planting a hand over her heart once more. "This game, we know better than all others. The information will be out of his mouth before my daughter begins her dance. In the case that he proves more stubborn than she, well... our second best skillset is torture."

Her pale hand extended toward him. "I accept this partnership, Corso, my ally. We shall create our own thunder to shake this city."

The necromancer took her hand. "Ms. Moreau..." he bowed slightly and brought it up to his lips. "...I think this is the beginning of something extraordinary."
 
as written by Knosis and Sentry

She had taken them all the way over to Fontainbleu. She seemed eager- enough that it was silly. She wound through a maze of dark alleys, vast enough that it often got a passerby lost. Tally knew them by heart.

The young girl stopped them at a single red light above a ruddy door in one of the darker alleys, surrounded by trash and dirt. She pushed the door open, walking backwards, beaming at Gael the whole time. Inside, there was a singular room with a desk in its middle, where a woman with thin eyes and a right bun atop her head sat.

Tally excitedly requested a room, but no money was given in exchange for a key. The woman at the desk raised up the corners of her mouth subtly, thinly.

Even the halls were doused in red light. It was obvious what kind of motel the girl had brought them to.

Gael was lucky he had Tally to lead him through all these places. He was, for lack of better terms, lost. Yeah, he could probably eventually accidently find his way back to a road he could recognized once his phone died, but at night? He'd be lucky not to smash his face into the wall.

It didn't take genius to figure out where he had been taken, and he was lucky that the color of the lights hid the blush on his face. As money was requested for a room and Tally seemed to lack any, he reached into his pocket and pulled out hard cash he had with him and passed it over to the woman behind the desk.

Tally snatched the money back. "Not yet, silly! We pay for time!" she giggled. She pulled him into one of the closer rooms down the red hallways, then closed the door behind them.

The room was filled with a pinker light. Softer. The bed was kingsized, had some nice soft sheets. There weren't any windows. No visible cameras. It was just them. Just this room.

"You look tense," she commented. "Have you ever...?"

The boy blinked. How could he answer that? In Iveria, it was practically encouraged. But with girls, it was always a trick question.

Of course, she never finished her question, so it could be as simple as has he ever stayed in a place like this? Girls were complicated.

But, he thought he could be honest with her. "Oh, aye.." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just never on the date." He looked around the room. "And never in a place like this." He chuckled. "'ow about you?"

She shrugged, chin meeting her chest shyly. "A few times," she admitted. "Enough, you know?" She tugged at the bottom of his shirt, then placed her hands beneath it, on the skin of his stomach. She leaned in and took in a silent breath.

He gently rubbed her shoulders, placing his forehead on hers. He wasn't exactly the biggest muscle around, but he was definitely lean. "That in the way? I could fix that.." He asked, slightly teasing.

Tally chuckled.

This was no sweet chuckle. No sexy purr. It was dark. It was malicious. "Oh. Oh, this is all I need."

The effect would be almost instantaneous. A numbness spread from her hands onto Gael's skin, running through his veins and to his head, making the room waver and float.

The chuckle made the hairs rise on his neck and instantly he knew something was wrong. The numbness spread swiftly, and his vision wavered. "W-what the h-hell.."

Something screamed at him to run, but his legs were like legs felt like rubber and heavier than lead. He stumbled backwards away from the girl.

And the girl advanced, her smile widening from one ear to the next. She grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it off-

Unreal.

Especially in Gael's current state, what he was seeing had to be a product of his high. A creature with green skin came out of that sweater, strangely thin, moving as though she were made of air. Unfolding from her back were a pair of dragonfly wings. Her hands stretched out to push him onto the bed, then to lay them on his skin again.

"Nighty night, Gael Prendergast," she hummed.
 
as written by Ronin and SerinaBloom

The 'Moon Bow' bar and dance club was not particularly busy. It was the middle of the day, after all - most of their traffic came in at night. As it was, the bulk of the patrons were die-hard drinkers stationed at the bar or seedy con men scattered throughout the tables, playing cards and betting with one another. The bar was owned and managed by the Barrows - a rare coalition of human and supernatural criminals. They were still a fledgling group, dealing mostly in drug trafficking and petty thievery. Being under the thumb of the Nightshade pack was difficult. They needed a good heist to rake in the dough that would give them a fighting a chance ... something big. Something risky. Something like kidnapping the daughter of a church official and holding her for ransom...

There was a muscled guard outside the door, arms folded over his chest.

____

Crista knew that taking the time to stop at the order was risky but it would render the mission pointless if she were to go in without protection and fail. After suiting up she made her way to the location and spying the front entrance from the shadows she deliberated what would be the wisest action to take.

____

As she watched, a man walked out of the front and whispered words to the bouncer before heading back inside. Crista may have noticed the grip of a gun tucked into his waistcoat as he left.

Meanwhile, a delivery truck was pulling up to the side of the bar. Two men opened the back doors, waiting for a shipment to arrive.

____

Crista thought out all her options. She wasn't daring enough to just charge in and take on all of those hardened criminals. She wasn't like John who could take out a number of men and get away with only a scratch. For now she was going to investigate and ask around the area for information. She kept a distance from the bar in a way that she wouldn't be easily noticed, while also managing to keep an eye on the front entrance. She asked the local what they knew or what they had heard.

____

Crista wouldn't have a great deal of luck gleaming information off of the locals. This wasn't Saint Lemeux - the church wasn't viewed favorably in this part of town. Most would just keep quiet or not even acknowledge her, walking quickly away. None of them would jibe her or cuss her off. She wasn't some random police officer. She was a paladin.

One grungy-looking mendicant, however, wouldn't shy away.

"I'll tell ye whatever ye want to know, for two royals," he grinned, his smile missing two teeth, "you gimme that and I'll answer all of ya questions."

____

Crista was impatient with the other locals who wouldn't speak to her and so handed the man what he asked for.

"What can you tell me?"

____

The old man cackled, taking the royals and hiding them up his sleeves. He tugged at a paper bottle at his side and swigged deep.

"Alright, lissen up. Every other week on Taris, two shipments come into that bar. One's already been there, and that's legitim't. Liquor n'the like." He took another swig. "The other comes in n'half an hour. It'll be crates labeled 'beef patties' but it's actually dope, y'hear? If you were t'catch em in the act you could bust'em and search their entire bar." He cackled. "No telling how they'd react. Might need some backup for that one."

He lounged against the garbage can he was sitting in front of. "Other thing y'could try. Den, that's the bloke that owns the place n'leads the gang, has a weakness fer'pretty girls. Rumor round is that he's looking fer'dancers. If you wanted to take off that armor n'pose as one, y'could get inside. Maybe even see what he's got going on in his bar." He drank deep. "Couldn't bring any weapons, though. Least, not as big as th'ones yer'packing." He cackled, eyeing the massive Lawkeeper strapped to her hip.

____

"Tch."

Crista wasn't about to take up the plan the man had suggested. She had a great sense of dignity and didn't even let John see her that way, knowing that going too far would only leave them heart broken by the fact that they couldn't marry. Crista stepped away and walked back to her destrier, grabbing the radio and speaking in a hushed tone.

"This is Crista reporting in. I've found out some information about the Moon Bow bar. Theres a shipment coming in 30 minutes that I know from a tip has some illegal contents inside. It's not wise for me to look into it on my own so I need back up."

____

"Copy Crista," the radio squawked back, "we have Sir Durandet here, about to head outside city walls on a recon mission. Says he's willing to delay to help you out. He'll be there in twenty."

---

Twenty minutes later, a second destrier pulled up to Crista's. The mounted knight was armored in gleaming plate, his face obscured by a tight steel helmet, leaving only his lips visible. He was large, though not monstrously huge.

"Dame Sorrel," he touched his fingers to his mouth in greeting, unsmiling. "Or do you go by Crista?"

____

"Call me what you want. We have business."

Crista gestured for him to follow her and took him to the spot where they would watch for the shipment.

____

Durandet followed her with a nod, bringing his destrier along hers to the hidden location where they watched the back entrance to the Moon Bow. A moment later, an unmarked truck pulled up to it. Men left the bar, opened the back doors and began unloading packages.

Durandet's hands flexed on the grip of his bike. "You leading, or shall I?"

____

"If you want to then it's all yours."

Crista wasn't feeling in a place to draw attention to herself. She didn't want attention from the order or those opposed now that she had a young boy to look after.

____

"My pleasure," Durandet replied. He revved his destrier, the bike grumbling as it lefts its position and moved menacingly towards the shipment, Crista hopefully right behind him.

The goons noticed them immediately - destriers were hardly a stealthy machine. One of them stepped forward quickly, putting his package down on a nearby bench and spreading his arms wide.

"Hey! Hey!" he growled, "get the fuck outa' here, canheads! Private property! No trespassing!"

Durandet parked his destrier directly in front of the man. The tires of his motorcycle were practically half the size of the goon.

"What's in the boxes?" Durandet's voice was cold and graveled.

The goon sneered. "Fuckin' beef patties, what's it look like? Now scram! Or I'm suing!"

____

"Prove it then. Show us the contents of all your boxes and we'll leave."

Now was the time to keep it simple and get the job done quickly.

____

"I ain't showing you shit," the goon spat, "you ain't coming near this place unless you got a fuckin' warrant!"

Wordlessly, Durandet dismounted. He walked a slow cadence to the foul-mouthed gangster, metal feet thunking on the pavement, stopping only a bare foot away from the thug.

"We apologize for any distress we may have caused you," Durandet's voice was cold, almost robotic-sounding, "my partner and I were just out for a stroll. Wanted to make sure nothing was amiss."

The thug snarled. "There isn't. Now fuckin' leave."

"Sure thing." Durandet reached out to the box of 'beef patties' on the nearby table and swiped them to the floor in one swift movement. The box flew open, bags filled with white powder spilling into the concrete. Durandet didn't even look at it.

"Oops."

____

"I've never seen any beef patties like that before. I think we'll need to take a look around." Crista now dismounted from her destrier and joined Durandet.

____

"Agreed." Durandet nodded. His hand reached to his hip and he unholstered his lawkeeper. "You're all under arrest, by the way. Stand in front of me in a neat line, hands on your head."

The thug grumbled, livid. "Fuckin'..." he stepped back, the other goons already situating themselves as Durandet directed. "...gonna fuckin' get my lawyer on this shit..."

Durandet looked back to Crista. "If this is about the kid, I'd head inside right away. Den must already know we're here and is preparing himself. You should act quickly before we lose the advantage." He looked up at the thugs. "I'll handle things out here."

____

Crista simply nodded and made her way in through the back entrance of the bar. Crista was among shelves, boxes, and crates, striding through with quick glances to find the direction she needed to go. Finding the child quickly was her first priority.

____

Crista would see two men making a frantic rush out of storage. They burst through the door leading into the interior and made a rush upwards through a hallway.

"Quickly!"

"Get to Den!"

Their boots pounded on the floor. The drone of grungy rock music filtered in from the ajar door.

____

Crista, seeing the men run, deduced them to be her best chance at finding the child. She pursued them at a quick pace, almost leaping up the stairs and following down the hallway to the doors they entered.

____

The thugs had entered the last door at the end of the hall. There were two more on either side of it. Crista would hear boots shuffling from within coupled with low, hurried murmurs and a curious buzzing sound.

____

Crista, knowing that the men she had pursued where with their leader in the room at the end of the hall. So to be cautious Crista checked the first two doors in the hall to see if the child was being held there by chance.

____

The first door led into a supply closet and wasn't filled with anything particularly useful. The second door was locked.

____

Crista had a hunch that the locked door led to the child and so knelt down to work at the lock. Crista took a step back from the door and then kicked it with great force at it's weak point. She had her hand on her sword in case she had made a mistake in bursting in.

____


The door flew open, revealing two men hunched over a battered-looking sofa in the corner. This room seemed to be mostly storage as well, with bits of junk arrayed on shelves. The two thugs looked sweaty, as if they'd been moving the furniture.

"Holy hell!" one of them jumped back in surprise, reaching instinctually for the pistol in his waistband.

____

"Shit." Crista cursed under her breath and sprinted forward towards the man reaching for the gun. Quickly closing the gap between them she drew her sword, prepared to fight.

____

The startled goon managed to free his pistol, loosing off a shot at Crista's chest plate. It was a low-caliber gun, and would easily deflect off her armor - though it would leave a nasty bruise.

Crista closed the distance quickly, and the goon threw forward one of his fists. The other thug backed away, not willing to risk a fight with a paladin.

____

Crista swiftly ducked the thug's panicked attempt at a punch and then was close enough to him to draw her sword in a way that struck his forehead hard enough to at the very least make the man fall unconscious.

____

The hilt struck the man between the eyes and he fell to the floor, unconscious. The other thug quickly raised his hands, surrendering.

"I give up!" he yelled.

A second later, two other goons burst in through the door, semi-automatic rifles in their hands. They clacked their guns at Crista but did not fire. "Don't move!" they growled. Footsteps thudded just outside the door before a large, muscled man with an undercut. Tattoos ran his arms - visions of angels and demons caught in a bloody skirmish. The ink on a tattered wingspan near his shoulder was fresh and blood bubbled at the skin.

"What the hell is going on here?"

____

Crista grit her teeth in frustration at being caught in a corner. She had her sword still pointed at the man who had surrendered but was looking at the man with the tattoos. There was no point in coming up with excuses so she told the truth.

"We found illegal substances in your shipments down stairs. We're here to arrest all those involved take back the child you are holding hostage."

____

The big man chuckled. "And so what? If my employees are smuggling drugs behind my back, bust them. It's got nothing to do with me." He growled. "As for this 'kid', I have no idea what you're talking about. You're trespassing and you've damaged my bar. I want you to leave. Now." The goons did not lower their guns. Behind her, the remaining guard scooted nervously in front of the recently-moved couch, as if protecting it.

____

Crista glanced at the man and then the couch that he was moving towards. Knowing with the guns pointed at her crystal had very little window to avoid the bullets if fired. But she had a sinking suspicion about that couch. In one swift motion she used her sword to fling away one of the seat cushions of the couch to see what it was hiding. Then she quickly moved behind the couch hopefully to deter them from firing seeing as they were protective of it.

____

The flipped cushion would reveal nothing but the moldy interior of the sofa. As she threw herself behind the couch, however, she would hear a loud, hollow thunk as her boots hit the ground. The floor beneath her didn't feel as solid as the rest of it.

The thugs opened fire, low-caliber pistols raining a storm of bullets across the room. Some got caught in the thick wood frame of the sofa, but many penetrated. They didn't have a line of sight, so their aim wasn't perfect. Crista would nonetheless find herself under heavy fire.

____

Crista hid behind the couch, doing what she could to avoid the barrage of heavy fire. When she heard the hollow sound of the floor beneath her feet she turned, facing the back side of the couch, pushing it and possibly trying to fling it at the men firing at her.

____

Crista's years of strength training and conditioning doubtless came in good use as she pushed on the chair. The big piece of furniture practically went flying, colliding into the two thugs and sending them sprawling to the floor. The third - the leader - jumped back, deftly avoiding the couch. Crista would have a few moments before her opponents were able to recover.

____

Crista used her blade to pry away the flooring. She looked down into the hollowness beneath the floor.

____

A young girl looked up from the darkness, gagged, tears brimming in her young eyes. She was tied to a chair in a low, dank room - her dress stained with grime.

Den, meanwhile, realized how far the situation had gone. She'd found the girl. It was too late to try and get out of this legally.

"Kill her!" he shouted, before a deafening BRRAATATATAT thundered in the air. A maelstrom of bullets chewed through the walls and hallway near the thugs, sending them ducking for cover. From just outside, the voice of Sir Savien Durandet boomed through the storage space.

"Get the girl! I'll cover you!"

____

Crista didn't waste a second jumping down into the room and cutting the ropes that bound the small girl. She removed her gag and picked her up.

"Hold on tightly!" Crista jumped and grabbed the ledge, climbing back up to the floor, carrying the girl.

____

The girl clung to Crista, burying her face into her breastplate. As she rose from the cellar, two of the huddled thugs raised their pistols to shoot. Savien's barrage forced one of them to cover, but the other leveled his pistol directly at the knight and the girl in her arms. He was about to fire.

____

Crista having only a split second to act, leapt towards the door and rolled, still holding the girl protectively and hoping to avoid fire.

____

The goon fired as she rolled, managing to keep up with her swift movements. His bullet pinged through a gap in her shoulder armor and embedded itself deep in her kevlar, likely causing her incredible pain. Fortunately, she'd shielded the girl from harm.

As she rounded into the hallway she would find Savien taking cover behind one of the doors, a smoking Rosary in his hands.

"Get to the bikes!" he shouted, laying down another barrage as soon as she cleared his line of fire.

____

Crista pushed aside the emmense pain in her shoulder and she carried ther girl, sprinting down the stair and out the back entrance she had come in through. No time to look back to check on the safety of her partner Crista made a direct line for the bikes and got on, holding the girl still with one arm.

"Keep holding onto me!"

Crista started the bike and ask quickly as she could, tore off through a short cut out of this neighborhood.

____

She would find all the thugs that had been unloading the drugs missing - they must have scattered when they heard gunfire. She raced into the streetways, the sound of Savien's rifle echoing after her as she left.

She would have a couple minutes to ride before her radio squawked.

"Crista, this is Savien," he commed, "the Barrows are on high-alert. Every gang member in Fontainebleu has been ordered to take you out. Stay alert and get to the Monastery as fast as you can."

As if on cue, two chopper motorcycles crashed into the streetway behind Crista, the mounted thugs wielding pistols. They chased after her, trying to line up their firearms for a clear shot.

____

Crista glanced behind at the sound of the bikes giving chase and before she gave them a chance to line up their pistols she made a very sharp turn down a different street. Sh was trying to get back to the center of the city where there would be more paladins on patrol and she could get to the monastery safely.

____

Her destrier groaned at the sudden turn, tires threatening to veer straight as she yanked the bike with sharp precision. Destriers were built for power, durability and speed, not agility. Sharp maneuvers weren't their specialty. Still, the trick had worked - a bullet whizzed by, just missing her. The bikers made the turn and continued to give chase.

Her radio squawked again. "Crista, it's Savien. I'm in pursuit and tracking your GPS. Listen carefully - take a right on Baloo and another right on 30th. Keep riding on 30th and I should intercept you."

Just up ahead, a taxi was breaking and swerved in front of Crista to catch a waiving pedestrian.

____

Crista followed Savien's directions, continuing with the sharp turns to avoid the taxi, shouting out a warning ahead of time.

____

Once again, her destrier teetered uncertainly - massive tires threatening to trip and spill. The girl clutched tightly to her armor, squeaking in fear. She managed to avoid the taxi and followed the instructions.

Cruising down on 30th at high speeds, the bikers behind her was just beginning to line up with her once more - pistols leveled ... before a deafening roar overtook them all as Savien charged in from a cross-street and literally bulldozed the two thugs one after the other - slamming the armored front of his bike into the broadsides of the choppers. The vehicles crunched before the destrier's assault, and the riders with them.

"Good job, Crista. That should be the last them. Get that girl to the Monastery."

____

Crista nodded and sped off, still holding the girl with one arm as she rode to the monastery.
 
as written by Script

In the shadows of a decrepit townhouse, something slunk through the night, probing and searching.

The something slid through the overgrown garden, unimpeded by the thick foliage, broken glass and discarded needles that littered its pathways. It moved through the rusted old gate towards the front of the building, brushing past an overflowing wastebin and startling a stray cat. The cat let out a yowl and leaped from the trash can with a clatter, disappearing into the night.

"What was that?"

Lilianne 'Luna' DeViere looked up worriedly at the noise, where she was stood at the front of the townhouse. Her bleached hair was tied into a hasty, messy ponytail from which strands of frizz emerged at random angles. A baggy jumper hung loosely on her skinny frame, black in contrast to her pallid skin.

"Just some stupid cat," the man with her grunted dismissively. Gavin O'Connell pulled his thick brown jacket tighter and adjusted the cap on his shaved head. It didn't suit him. Out of place as it was, matched with his mature features and roughly stubbled chin, it looked - if anything - comical. "Look, you buying this shit or not?"

"Yeah, 'course," Luna muttered, stuffing her hand into the pocket of her jeans and rummaging for the wad of notes she'd stowed there after swiping them from the register at work.

As the exchange carried on, the something drew closer.

Luna was the first to look up at the sound of unearthly music in the air. "Seriously, can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Gavin rolled his eyes. "I just hear ..." he hesitated, "Wait. There's ..."

"Singing." Luna's tone had gone from one of anxiety to one of contentment. A goofy smile spread across her face, and her eyes glazed over. Gavin, and the rest of the scene, faded entirely from her view, as though carried away by the song..

She opened eyes to find herself elsewhere. A beautiful rolling field, the sun shining down warmly from a cloudless blue sky. Flowers of all shapes and colours bloomed amidst the perfect green grass. In the distance, an idyllic forest swayed in the gentle breeze, and a shimmering clear blue lake lapped gently at its shore.

Luna blinked slowly, turning her head and realising that Gavin was there with her, looking equally bewildered. "Whoa... how did we ... did I already shoot up? What did you give me?"

Gavin shook his head. She tried to shake the feeling that something was wrong here. Out of the corner of her eye, the scene seemed to blur - almost like a painting. But when she turned to look, it was as clear as day again. And hadn't there been music?

Then her eyes fell on a figure a short distance away, kneeling facing away from the pair in the grass. They had long black hair that fell past their waist, pooling on the ground behind them, and seemed to be dressed in a similarly dark robe.

"Hello?" Luna stepped tentatively forwards towards them, "Can you hear me? Where are we? What's going on?"

As she spoke, the figure turned to face them. They had pale and flawless skin, and big child-like eyes, their irises eerily black. Luna found she couldn't place their gender. They looked young, but could have been anywhere from twelve to eighteen by her estimation. Their face was altogether difficult to figure out.

"Hello," they said. "You haven't gone anywhere. But it sang, because you were scared."

Luna frowned. So there had been a song. Of course there had. How had she forgotten? She'd been about to pay Gavin for her fix, then...

Their surrounding wavered, and the person's expression became concerned. "Wait! No, don't think too much about that. If you do, you'll go back, and you'll be scared again. And hungry. Why are you so hungry? It doesn't understand your hunger. Not like hungry for food, or hungry like its brethren were, for hurt. Empty hunger, for something always out of your reach."

Luna stared voicelessly. "What are you... get out of my head!" she took a step backwards.

"It's sorry!" The youth clambered to their feet, "It didn't mean to. It just happens." They briefly closed their eyes, "She sneaks out of sight, tips the box out into her purse. Coins and notes rain out. They gave to help people, and I need help too. What they don't know can't hurt them, but it might save me. The guilt still stings, but the hunger makes it easy to push it away. Just this one more, then I'll give it up. Always one more."

"Stop it!" Luna shrieked, and once more, the scene wavered.

"It's sorry! Don't run away. She's safe here, it made it so. He's quiet, because he scares her. It made him quiet. He hurt her, knew she needed him so made her pay more. More and more, never satisfied. Stupid girl, thinks I'm helping her quit, lowering her dose. As if I'd give up such a gullible customer."

Gavin had gone still, and pale. He was just standing there, motionless. Luna found her hands trembling. "What did you do to him?"

The youth looked down, "It made him stop. Stop hurting her, and all the others. He can't any more."

"Let me go." Luna's voice was cracked, "Please. I'm scared."

"It doesn't want to scare her. She'll be more scared if she sees it." The youth's eyes stayed pointed down.

"If I... see you? What do you mean?"

"The real one. Not the mask to stop her running. It doesn't want to hurt."

"Just let me go. Please." Luna clenched her fists.

Raising their face with sad eyes, the youth nodded their head slowly. "Please remember. It doesn't want to hurt her."

And then the cold of the evening returned like a slap in the face, as the scene of idyllic peace shattered into nothingness. Luna gasped, staggering with the shock of the transition. As her vision cleared, her breath caught in her throat.

Gavin lay only feet away from her, pale and motionless on the ground. Shadows massed around his corpse, as though they'd sapped all the colour from him. The shadows trailed away, and up, and into ... something.

The something was a mass of darkness, with writhing tentacle-like appendages emerging from its core, seemingly innumerable. Its heart held the shape of something akin to the upper torso of a humanoid, nestled amidst the tendrils. Its face was as pure black as the rest of its body, with the exception of a pair of large, pure white eyes like saucers and a mouth of sharp-looking teeth.

It gazed up at her in a way that almost appeared to be ... nervous.

Luna reacted in the only way that seemed appropriate.

She screamed.

"Demon! Demon!" Her shrill cries echoed through the street as she turned tail and fled, sprinting in panic away from the monster. "Help! Somebody help!"

The creature did not pursue her. It merely gazed after her with big, sorrowful eyes. And then it slunk away, leaving the shrivelled corpse of Gavin O'Connel behind as it vanished into the shadows.
 
as written by Script

A block away from the Caer Manor Ruins

On the second floor of a run-down old townhouse, at the far end of the road from the ruins of the Caer Manor, two figures were seated in a musty and sparsely furnished room overlooking the street. One, a woman with a neat bob of dark hair who looked to be in her early thirties, was positioned on a chair by an open window that had a clear line of sight to the old manor. She was dressed unremarkably in a thick brown button coat atop worn-looking black jeans. A flask rested on the floor beside her as she looked out over the street, and she occasionally brought a pair of binoculars up to examine the building (and any passers-by) more closely.

The other figure was a slightly younger looking man in similarly worn clothes leaning against the far wall. His otherwise attractive features were marred somewhat by four parallel scars that ran down his cheek, over his chin and onto his neck, as well as by a nose that had clearly been broken at least once. He was chewing on a cereal bar whilst apparently doodling in a notebook that rested in his lap.

With a sigh, he brushed a lock of mouse-brown hair away from his eyes and looked up at Ariane, the woman across from him, leaning forwards. "See anything new?"

"If I had, I would have told you."

Ethan leaned back again with another sigh. "I suppose you would have." He took a bite of his cereal bar, continuing to speak as he chewed. "I shtill can't belief how much you paid thoshe..." he swallowed, "...squatters to clear out. This place is a shithole."

"It was theirs, though," Ariane replied. "In a manner of speaking. By the rules of this neighborhood, even if not legally. Now shut up."

"This is not the type of assignment I'm used to..." Ethan muttered.

"And believe me, I lament that you were assigned it as much as you do. Read a book, or better yet, get some rest before your shift." Ariane shot him a brief glare. "If you're inattentive when you're watching the manor, it could have dire consequences. We know that people are living there. If there's a... a Caer around, even this far away, we're in danger."

Ethan nodded his head, grimacing. "You're right," he said. "Sorry."

And silence returned once more. Ethan took a deep breath and rested his head back against the wall. Think of the positives, he told himself, at least you have more legroom than if you were waiting in a car.
 
as written by Sentry and Knosis

"Well, of course you didn't. Some kid running around without any real fuckin' idea what he's gettin' into is lucky he ain't dead." Duke swept past the boy and gestured him to follow with a wave of his hand. "You wanna learn how to avoid gettin' killed or robbed blind? Follow me, lad. You'll learn somethin' so you don't have to go cryin' to mummy for a pair of nickers."

____

That hit a nerve. The whole damned reason he had come back to Lutetia was so he could get away from his parents control and begin to live on his own. His face grew red again, and he could have swore he could hate no one more than this man who rubbed insult to injury. He had been right for most of it, however. Gael had been lucky to not be dead at this point. He had known Lutetia to be dangerous. Even back home with his dad, most people had made comments about how awful the crime community was in this city. And that was the his main reason to come back to Lutetia.

His shoulders slumped and sighed. "Fine." He grumped. What other choice did he have? Turn around and head home? "I'm comin'." He muttered, following after the mystery man. "Oi, what is your name anyway?"

____

The man looked over her shoulder at the kid, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Call me Sawyer," he called back to him. "And hurry up. People're lookin'."

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

Sawyer lead the boy all the way to the edges of Fontaibleu, where the housing was nicer. Then again, the comparison was like living a garbage dump instead of a cesspool. The housing was still shit, it just wasn't completely falling to pieces.

There was one in particular, a narrow, three story duplex made of scratched up and crumbly red brick. As soon as Sawyer stepped on the veranda it creaked like old bones in the morning. Someone had tried to paint it white, but the paint chipped off and revealed the splintery black wood beneath.

Three knocks on the door, which rattled and threatened to break. Then a holler. The whole house boomed and echoed with an incredible amount of movement before the door swung open.

A petite woman shoved her face into Sawyer's, one side of her lip drawn up in a sneer. White threads of hair fell down her face and stuck up at odd ends with bedhead. Draped down to her knees was a loose, baggy shirt with a band logo on its front.

"What! Why are you here? Why are your weapons out?" she hissed, particles of spittle flying into the man's face. He closed his eyes and wiped his face, lines forming at the edges of his mouth in a tight-lipped grimace. He pointed back to Gael with a jab of his thumb.

"Kid got dusted. Robbed. Think he might be our lead."

The woman leaned over Sawyer's thick frame to peek at the boy, snake eyes piercing right through him. Her lips pouted upward. "And you are?"

____

Gael had begun to wonder if the house really was just about to collapse down around itself. He had edged away slightly, getting ready to bolt when the door opened to the source of the noise. He frowned and straighten out his toga as best he could as she interrogated Sawyer. When she turned her attention to him, his face dead-panned.

All of the smart assed comments that popped into his head that he could use would probably get his throat slashed at that moment. Gael had decided he had enough of playing with fire for one day, or perhaps through the pounding headache he had become wiser. "Very cold and hungry." He decided to answer with, pulling at the pink toga as if to prove his point. "But my name is Gael." He had decided the better of lying to these folks. If they happened to help him retrieve his stuff, then they'd find out who he was eventually. "And who are you?"

____

The woman's eyes scrolled up and down Gael. Her shoulders heaved upward in a sigh. "Well, cold and hungry, I'm Jaeda, and make sure to shut the door behind you."

She retreated inside, door wide open for both men. Sawyer looked back at Gael and shrugged before following the silver-haired woman.

Within, the house wasn't nearly as bad. There was a decent layer of paint and flowery wallpaper that wasn't coming to tatters. In the living room was a couch and a table, newspapers scattered about. One wall separated it from the kitchen, which was narrow, but usable. To the left were stairs. A hallway parted them. The floor was made of bleached wood, but it was getting old. Stains dotted it here and there.

Jaeda came back downstairs and tossed a clump of clothing at Gael. "Put somethin' on. People will start talkin' if they see a naked minor in my house."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
as written by Emperor Jester and Krysis

Perilous had earned her name long before she became the lover of the most dangerous creature in the city by doing certain deeds. Deeds that were desired by people she owed money or favors to. Debts that she was still working at repaying. So while Nox was in danger, Pierette had been dealing with one of those deeds.

She tried her best to keep these things secret from him, not wanting him to worry about her, or worse, to take her debts on himself so she would owe Nox instead. Which was why, when her special phone rang started to vibrate in her pocket, it took her three or four rings to answer, and then it was in a hushed whisper that she greeted the only person that had that number, "Hello, darling."

"No. None of that, not right now. You need to avoid the manor for a long time, perhaps for months. I know for a fact you aren't there right about now. Keep it that way." Nox's voice sounded impatient, almost panicked. Which would be odd, considering what she knew about the father of her unborn child.

"Do you understand me, Perilous? Answer me."

"I understand, but could you tell me what happened?" Pierette's voice was still faint, but had the edge of alarm to it. There was a rustling sound in the background, and then the sound of a door being gently closed, which was very unlike his Perilous as well. Usually she didn't care who heard what, after all.

"I came under attack. Everyone got out more or less unscathed, save my thrall. Her death is what tipped me off to invaders in the first place." A pause, and what shouted like shouting to names she might recognize, like he was berating some one. Harsh tones and louder volumes, all the components were there. Then his voice returned to her ear. "Why do you sound so...preoccupied, my dear?"

Pierette winced at the shouting and hastily covered the ear piece with her hand to muffle it. So she missed the first part of his question, and then sighed at him using the word 'preoccupied'. "Shhh. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. Just... where do I meet up with you? When? Actually, hold that thought for a moment."

There was the sound of someone else nearby on Pier's end of the call. Someone that called out very clearly, "Show yourself!" just before there was the three distinct bangs of a firearm close at hand.

The third shot had barely left the chamber before Pierette was murmuring into the phone, "It's alright, I'm okay. Just a little mess to clean up. You were saying?"

"...Alright then. My concern was arriving from a different source." Another pause, followed by a very loud call for silence before a heavy sigh erupted from the speaker of her phone. "Things are rather disorderly at the moment, so I apologize if my paranoia gets the better of me. I'll try and be patient with you."

Another pause followed by a growl and a vicious screech of pain, a sound recognizable as the spawn. "Damn things are so frantic they won't stop trying to hide behind my legs. The answer to your questions are... There some apartments in the Vargeras. I have one set up, in my name. MY name. Off the books. Go there." He'd give the address and the name of the building without pausing. "As for when? I can't say."

Pierette sighed, then groaned as she climbed out of her hiding place and set about to destroying the evidence of her presence there. "I'm already missing you. By the way, if you want to send the spawn my way, free meal here. Only slightly marinated, so healthier fare than usual and it gets them out from under your feet." She relayed the address after kicking the man's weapon away from him and checking to make sure he was dead.

She tossed the gun she used back into her purse after setting the safety, making a loud 'clunk' noise as it bounced on the table beneath the leather. "Anything I can do to help, beyond staying out of sight of your enemies?"

"Inform your brothers that the project will be delayed, but is still on the table. I'll be sending an apology check to them as soon as I can, but given the circumstances, this could be a long while. And good idea about the spawn." He'd bark out the address and there'd be another trill of pain and panic. This was immediately followed by a sound of mass scampering before a relieved sigh and a flop onto something that sounded beyond comfortable. "And you know I'll miss you as well. As soon as I feel its safe, I intend to set some things in motion, and I'll be needing you for a few of them. Two or three days at most, my love."

It still made her breathe catch when he spoke with such affection to her, and Pierette almost purred back to him, "I'll count the hours, my love. Do try to stay in one piece until then, please?"

"Well, I almost had my arm torn from my body tonight. Not that it would of been the first time. But I'll try my best. The spawn are already on their way. Do try and be gone before they arrive. I'm afraid they get quite ravenous when spooked as badly as they are."

Pierette winced, automatically rubbing her own arm as she thought about how it must feel to have a limb torn mostly asunder from the body. Her footsteps then were brisk and focused as she scooped up her purse and headed out. "I'm almost to the street already. I have a few more errands to run, nothing else so messy. Then I will make my way to that apartment, so don't bother looking for me tonight."

A door slammed, the creak of a rusty spring on a screen door, and then boots on pavement proclaimed her progress to the sharp eared vampire. "I think it would be wise of me to be in unexpected places at least until morning. I will be pulling the battery and sim card from this phone when we say good bye, just in case. Really is a shame. Murder is almost as good as sex and one puts me in the mood for the other."

"Mmmm...I know it does. But really, now is not the time for that, as tempting as it sounds." A heavy groan as what sounded like flesh hitting flesh. An open hand onto a face, for example. "I find myself quite...tired, Pier. I think I'll find a bite to eat before retiring myself to my...current place of residence. And when we meet, I'll give you a new phone. I intend to do some shopping tomorrow."

Perilous made a faint sound of acknowledgement, but couldn't bring herself to say 'good bye'. If things were bad enough that Nox had almost lost an arm, it might be the last time they got to speak. Anyone that could attack him, could end her without effort, and if he were pursued--

Reluctantly, Perilous pulled the phone from her ear and hit the 'end' button, ready to disappear into the seedier portions of the city until morning.
 
as written by Faithy

Arabella had been attempting to get to know the different parts of Lutetia while remaining vigilant as to which areas she was walking through. As she road through the streets she tugged the leather jacket around her body, ensuring that the majority of her weaponry remained hidden, though she didn’t necessarily need it. It wasn’t long before her wanderings found her within Fontainebleu and despite the dangerous environment, she wasn’t really worried.

“Hnn… might as well take a breather.” Pulling the crimson cycle off the road, she parked it against the curb, tugging off the helmet that matched the bike. Setting it against the handlebar, Arabella climbed off the bike and stretched out her limbs, fingers running through her dark hair in the process.
 
as written by duramon

Mazino breathed a heavy sigh as he saw his target finally pull up, it was the neighbourhood that bothered him. It wasn't the gang violence, the threat of being mugged or the seedy back-alleys that bothered him, it was the smell. The entire place was like one big bug pit, it was just downright gross.

He pulled up next to the target in a bright yellow car, the thing was his baby and he had odd taste. It was a beautifully well-maintained Matador, and it was an atrocious sight. The colouring made it look like a banana peel.

With a click the door unlocked and he pushed it open, stepping out in a black suit with a neon green tie. The man was a good 6"2ft tall and stocky in build, his hair was a raven black and his eyes were deep red. He awkwardly adjusted the bright tie and checked his phone, nodding to himself before regarding the woman.

"Arabella? My name is Mazino, I've heard good things. I have a unique employment opportunity for you. Of course this is more than a little suspicious, so perhaps an opening bet is appropriate." He paused and fished out a wad of cash from his pocket, holding out the thick pile to Arabella, the wad was made of indiscriminate bills from singular dollars to hundred dollar bills. The pile was as he said, a gamble. "I can bring in an employee to collect your bike, I've got places to be." He turned and opened the back door of his strange vehicle, continuing to hold out the cash to the target. "The Order isn't going to crumble by itself, correct?"

He hoped she'd be taken aback, of course they'd done a full work up on her, they knew as much as they could without talking to the woman themselves. Risk was a factor that needed to be lowered to the minimum, that being said, Mazino enjoyed screwing with potential newbies. The stranger the whole encounter appeared, the better.
 
as written by Faithy

Her attention soon shifted from a potential mugging down the street to a disgustingly gag inducing shade of yellow vehicle nearing her location. Staring at it, unsure what kind of joker would drive that thing, Arabella’s inquiry was soon answered. Taking in the male that stepped out of it, she noted every detail about the male, debating whether or not he was compensating for something with the Matador. Exhaling deeply, she faintly nodded that she was most definitely Arabella, though it did bother her that he had heard things about her, though at least it was good things.

“Yes, I’m Arabella. I…” She trailed off, looking at the wad of cash. She wasn’t exactly hurting, but could definitely use the extra dough. Musing for a few minutes before glancing back at her precious commodity, Arabella wasn’t so sure she wanted someone else to pick it up. This all seemed rather rush and very unconventional.

“How about I just follow you on the bike. That’s my baby and I’ll be very cross if something happens to it.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously towards Mazino, hoping to make her point. It wouldn’t be the first time she tortured someone because they messed her bike up and while she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with her knew employer, some things just couldn’t be helped.

“Besides, that car is damn ugly.”
 
as written by duramon

Mazino was impressed by the composure of the girl, up until the point she insulted Chelsea. Nobody called his baby ugly. He turned and slid into the front seat of his car, reaching into the glove-box and breathing in deeply. A faint snap could be heard and then he turned to the woman recomposed.

"Then try to keep up, it's not far, we've got a hold up near the end of the district. I assume you can handle staying close enough for my people to know you're with me?" He questioned, clipping his seatbelt in and pressing a button under his steering wheel to force the back-door to close back up without his assistance.

He started up the engine and waited for her to settle back in on the bike.

The journey would lead them to a dingy back-street, heading towards a garage. The door would slowly open, usually sealed by a mechanical contraption in order to keep out the weaker of their enemies. Not that they'd put themselves out there enough to piss anyone off yet, but it paid to be prepared. Who knew what member was hiding a personal hit on themselves, trust was a rare commodity in this world. He left a space beside his banana beauty for her bike to park, and from the wide berth the people inside gave the garage, it was obvious nobody dared touch his Matador.

The inside was a combination of a well-furnished lounge room straight out of a noble house, and a military den, full of men and women in uniform. The gang wore military fatigues or casual gear depending on the members position and preference, and most were sat either at a computer or in front of the TV that sat against one wall with alcohol in hand. Mazino would gesture for the woman to follow him up the stairs to the second floor, which was set up like a presidential office behind an iron door that was positioned at the top of the rickety stairs. Big oak desk included, although it was empty for the moment, Mazino took up the comfy looking chair behind it and gestured to the one on the opposite side.

"Let's talk business then."

"My employer wants to hire you for our crew for a hefty sum, to begin with. We're looking to shake things up with the Order, and we've got specialists and gear for all sorts of fun. You're on our list of employees to be considered, and we want you to take up a position. At first it'd be a scouting gig, testing you, making sure you won't talk to the wrong people for the right amount of cash, setting things up for the regular crew. From there, it'd be up to you where you want to go, we know to an extent what we can do, but we never intend to tell our members what they're good at. End game is, you file a report, we'll assign you your job. Big pay off, and most importantly to the people here." He paused and threw a bloodied necklace with the Equevec Raven on it, the Silver taken from a Paladin's corpse.

"The Order gets brought closer to its knees. Of course, it goes without saying that things are hush hush, and that we don't fuck around." He looked her dead in the eye and opened up the desk to pass her a file from within. "You're in, you're quiet, or you're dead." He said bluntly.

They were looking for a certain level of hatred, a certain level of crazy that required trusting people like him. The kind of person that would just take a job like this without question was one who was a snitch, or their kind of crazy. The first kind died pretty fast, the second got trapped within the organization before they even knew they'd dedicated their lives to the cause.

Mazino got his fun no matter which one she was. He had to eat too after all.

Within the folder were details of a building, and an item that needed to be stolen. The mission briefing dictated a second member to join her on the request, but said nothing else.

"Now that I've sufficiently overwhelmed you in quick succession with an infinite bundle of information, death threats, brief glimpses at the organization and pulled you suddenly off the street with no explanation or guarantee. You up for the job?" He grinned wolfishly and rested his chin on his templed hands.
 
as written by Faithy

A grin slowly crept upon her face at his reaction to her insult. Sure, he appeared to be fine and dandy, but she had watched enough people to know that it was a show. The light snap helped her assumption quite a bit. Sliding back onto her motorcycle, she tugged the helmet down, leaving the visor up in order to answer his inquiry.

“Yeah, not a problem. Let’s go.” Snapping down the visor, she started her baby up and kicked off the stand in order to follow behind him. As they drove, Arabella made sure to take note of her surroundings as well as all the exits she could use in case things turned sound. Glancing ahead towards the garage, her brow arched slightly, slowing down to give the door time to open. She kept up with him, pulling in beside the atrocity he called a vehicle once he was parked. Man, it was almost tempting to grab some car paint and make the thing a beauty. Maybe later.


Kicking down the kickstand, she eased off the bike, placing the helmet on top of it before glancing around, almost hesitantly. Once again fingers moved through her locks, fixing them as much as was possible while taking in not just lounge, but the exits as well as everyone within her vicinity. Once satisfied and upon realizing he was moving, Arabella quickly followed after him, unzipping her jacket to allow better access to her weaponry if needed. Moving into the office, she took a quick sweep of the room before sitting down in the offered chair, one slender leg crossing over the other as she attempted to get comfortable in the strange location.

“Business at last.” Leaning back, she let her hands rest limply in her lap, though she was still alert enough to grab a weapon if necessary. Listening carefully to the proposal being set out before her, Arabella mused silently on everything that was being said. Brow arching for a second time at the necklace tossed at her, she caught it in midair, peering at it with a sly grin.

“I can’t be bought, so no worries about me talking to the wrong people. Bringing the order to its knees is the only reason I’m still sitting here. I’m damn good at what I do and I don’t take threats idly.” Leaving it at that, she picked up the file, tossing the necklace back down on the table. She still wasn’t sure what to think about this, especially since he appeared to be a few short bricks of a full house, but she wasn’t about to let that run her off. Glancing through the file, Arabella shook her head a little.

“I also do not need a babysitter, but otherwise, yes, I am up for the job.” Arabella refused to show just how apprehensive she was about this whole setup, especially since her supposed employer sent someone else.
 
as written by duramon

Mazino smiled and whistled, and from the shadows a woman in a more plain gray suit stepped out. Her suit jacket was unbuttoned and she was wearing a white dress shirt with a black tie, she didn't appear comfortable in the ensemble.

"The 'baby-sitter' is non-negotiable, you'll understand if we don't just take your word and an incomplete recon while we're plotting such sensitive matters. It's my families lives on the line you know." He replied calmly, the woman with long hair in a ponytail (Of a similar shade of black to Mazino's) stepped up behind the desk, her eyes were a toxic green and stared at Arabella judgingly. "This is Ellie, she's the scout under my boss directly. She'll be on the assignment with you, its less of a surveillance, more of a protection of our investment in you."

Ellie was a fairly beautiful woman, tall and lithe, she towered over even Mazino as he stood up from his seat, she gave a small wave to Arabella after a nudge from Mazino but it lacked genuine intent.

"Certain events mean we're dealing with bigger risk than normal, you'll hear all about it after your job, and by then the boss should be back from his errand." He continued, passing Arabella a cellphone with a single number in it, a burner to be tossed away after use. "If you've got no questions, call us after the jobs done. Ellie can set you up with any gear or housing you'll need for the foreseeable future."
 
as written by Faithy

They were serious about the babysitting nonsense, which irked her to no end. She felt like it was an insult to her talents, but it wasn’t worth fighting against, not at this moment at least. Arabella tilted her head when a female walked out of the shadows, though she made no other movements and her face remained passive. Her gaze shifted towards Mazino, but she didn’t bother to respond, knowing it was pointless. Instead, her crimson orbs flickered back towards Ellie, disinterested almost immediately at the stare she was getting.

“Fine, but if she gets in my way, we’re going to have issues.” Leaving it at that, Arabella did manage to wave back, though it was half-hearted at best. “Am I to remain here with the others or can I maintain my own residency? Gear might be handy as you might have something I’ve been searching for, though I doubt it.” Taking the cellphone, she stuffed it inside the jacket and slid to her feet.

“No questions that I can think of other than what’s been asked. I assume you’ll be doing the transporting and my bike will be safe here?”
 
as written by Sentry

Nine years prior...

The morning was damp and humid. Sawyer felt like he was breathing in a sauna. He wiped his drippy nose with his glove and leaned onto the nearby building. Dressed all in white in the fog, he was barely visible. He knew what the white represented, but the Order needed a uniform change.

Briefly, the animancer checked his watch, then looked into the street. A whisper of a girl stood withdrawn in the mist, arms folded around herself, chin dipped toward her chest. Sawyer did his best to smile reassuringly, but the ghost wasn't centering her attention on him.

"They're coming. Your brother's coming for you," the scraggly-bearded man told her. "You can still understand me, right?"

She nodded solemnly. Sawyer felt it right in his chest, someone digging at his heart with an ice pick. Her silence haunted him more than her banshee screams the day before. The lanky animancer heard the hum of cars behind him in the street. He leaned forward from his lean and turned to face the team they'd been waiting for.

The first to emerge from the fleet of vehicles was a lithe officer, very similar in build and complexion to the girl Sawyer had communicated with. They approached the animancer and flashed a badge to prove their identity: Officer Lambert, a young man fresh from the academy.

"Where is she?"

Sawyer leaned his head toward a lonely street lamp, where the young lady stood. "She might not be much of a sight to you. A dark face in the mist, perhaps. Yesterday everyone could see her, but she's gotten quiet. Means we have to hurry," he said. "Are you ready? We're entering wolf territory. You know what that means."

"Remember, we grew up around wolf territory. This is nothing new," Jasmin opened the back seat of his squad car and produced a long trench coat and a hat somewhat resembling a fedora. Once donned and fastened shut, there was no immediate way to discern the officer from a run-of-the-mill shady scoundrel.

"I'm going in by myself at first to get a visual on Dianne. If I call out on the radio or you hear gunfire, bring everyone in. We don't want them closing up shop before we even show up."

The animancer nodded, "Understood," and waited by with the other officers. "Be careful. I'm detecting more than wolves in there, but they're too far and too many to see clearly. Tell the guy at the door you want to see 'mama'."

Throwing a glance back at the apparition, Sawyer beckoned. Dianne swept past him and ahead of Jasmin as a wisp of fog trailing down a shady alley. There was a small lightbulb above a lonely door, surrounded by trash. One would assume it to be the back door of the restauraunt at the front. Once inside, a descending staircase covered in crimson light greeted Jasmin. There was a weight on his sleeve, like someone gently hanging onto his coat. The officer made his way down the staircase, following the dingy trail until he encountered a door with a man standing in front of it. He glanced in either direction, as if looking for someone following him, then addressed the bouncer.

"I, er, want to see mama. Is she home?"

The beast standing in front of the door had to be half ogre. He was the size of a bear and had the warts of a toad. His brow sunk so heavily over his eyes, one would assume him blind. Though a skeptical glance was thrown at Jasmin, the man stepped aside and pushed open the heavy metal door, which screeched open.

It was a lobby. Normal in every concievable way with a receptionist at a desk, filing her nails, and two deep hallways on either side. If only the room hadn't been drenched in that awful red color. The woman in question was sharp-featured, had her hair tied into a perfect bun, and wore wine-colored lipstick. She was unusually prim, especially for the nature of her surroundings. She folded her fingers beneath her chin and gave a fox's smile at the detective.

"I am mama. You want to see my daughters?" she purred. "What kind do you like?"

"Yeah yeah," Jasmin put on a notably creaky tone, giving an implication of heavy abuse of tobacco or other inhaled products. "You, uh, you got any girls with white hair? Ooh yeah, that'd be really good," he shuddered and gave a low chuckle to himself. "I want her nice and innocent too, it makes it so much more fun!" The patron shifted giddily, rubbing his hands together. As she leaned back in her chair, the receptionist smirked. Her nails clicked together at her side as she thought. "Do you like them unconscious?" she laughed. "Otherwise we're a bit empty on those specific details. You'll have to go see another mama."

"Hmm, unconscious will do, I can wake her up. What happened, did she get a little uppity?" He chewed the inside of his lip and reached into one of his coat's pockets for a wallet. "Alright, do I pay now or later?"

The woman snapped her fingers and held out her hand. "Give me now, one hundred per hour."

"Mmmhm, gotcha," Jasmin's trembling fingers dove into the wallet and fished out crumpled bills which equaled about three hours worth of money, gingerly placing them in the woman's hand. "That should be plenty of time, I don't wanna have to be rushed after all," he gave another low chuckle. The bills were taken into a viperlike grip in the woman's hand. They were stuffed into her pocket as she stood up to guide Jasmin down one of the hallways, lined with numerous doors. Once she came to the sixth door on the right, she paused and jangled the lock open with a key.

Inside, a woman was draped over a bed swathed in pink sheets. Her white hair loped over the side in a carefully woven braid. Her complexion was more ghastly than normal. Makeup was painted over her face, but her eyes were so obviously sunk into the sockets. The skin around her fingers were peeled. Dianne always had this nasty habit of biting her nails.

"Have fun," the receptionist purred, turning to walk back to her desk.

"Hehehe, oh I will," Jasmin snickered and pulled the door shut behind him. When he could no longer hear any sound from behind the door, he reached into his coat and produced a small radio, depressing the call button.

"Big guy at the door, and its heavy steel. Confiscate the keys or bring breaching charges when its time to enter, over," He put the radio away and turned the woman over to face him, and began to give her a gentle shake in an attempt to wake her up.

"Dianne."

Waking with a gasp, the pallid girl grabbed Jasmin's shoulders. Her grip was weak, but desperate. She took a good look at her brother's face, unable to speak. Her fingers traced his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. She opened her mouth, but shook, startled, as the door opened again. A small, round capsule rolled in before the door slammed. The sphere clicked several times, then began to spout an impressive amount of gas. There was laughter on the other side of the door. "It's a good thing you never persued an acting career, kid. Regis! Lock the door!"

Jasmin reached down to brandish his pistol when the door opened and whipped around to fire off a few shots towards the opening, taking his finger from the trigger when the door closed again. He brandished the radio and hit the 'tone' button, sending a screeching signal to the other radios on the frequency as the agreed-upon distress signal.

The gas device, however, was a more immediate threat. He tore off his leather trench coat, revealing his officer's uniform as well as the multiple pieces of equipment issued to him. Jasmin grabbed a small sheet from the bed to hold to his mouth and nose to act as a weak gas mask, and proceeded to tightly wrap the non-breathable coat around the sphere, to slow the release of gas from its leathery prison, or even staunch the flow entirely. Dianne leaned up against the bed post silently. She didn't seem entirely aware of the situation. A sense of urgency was lost on her.

Outside, the team flooded the staircase and attached charges to the door. Several seconds went by before the door was blown off its hinges. Gunshots rung out from the hallway accompaneyed by the clop of heels. The team marched into the lobby and the animancer wasn't far behind, skin glowing with a protective spell. In one hand, he brandished a sword that also gave off a bright light.

"Jasmin!" he cried, walking down a chosen hallway with reckless abandon. The other officers followed carefully, checking every corner. "Where are you!?"

Without giving a response, Lambert holstered his standard-issue pistol and reached for the one on the opposite hip, one notably larger than what would carry the average handgun. The officer brandished its contents: a massive revolver that chambered rounds even larger than the Lawkeepers of the Monastic Order, .50 caliber rounds often relegated to just rifles.

"Please cover your ears, Dianne."

Jasmin took aim at the deadbolt of the heavy wooden door, and pulled the trigger. A thunderous gunshot could be heard from outside the room and in the nearby vicinity as the massive bullet tore through the simple locking mechanism. Followed by a hard kick at the knob, the door burst from its hinges to allow the officer out of the room.

"Don't let them get away! If they resist or retaliate, open fire!" He barked towards the animancer and other cops as he returned to the room to retrieve Dianne. He pulled the girl to her feet, and led her out of the room, leaving the coat and hat behind.

"Come on Di, I've come to get you out of here. Your little brother's here. Let's go."

Dianne followed behind clumsily, but never once did she protest. Everything was blurry, every sound was muffled, and anything that could have been felt, gone apart from a cozy haze that had embraced her for months.

The hallways were buzzing with officers as they searched the rooms. Most were greeted with the same blurry-eyed countenance as the last. Most were human, some were a bit more bizarre. Nothing new from the Nightshades. Sawyer hunted down the bodyguard and the receptionist, having run ahead of the rest. The clopping of heels beckoned him down to the left, where the lights had been turned off. Approaching warily, the animancer had his sword up. This end of the hall had become far too quiet.

After entrusting his sister to another officer, Jasmin took off after the animancer. The fact he was outnumbered at least two to one was concerning, let alone what that bodyguard might be capable of.

With the revolver loaded but returned to its holster, and the smaller sidearm reloaded and brandished, Jasmin slowly advanced down the hallway and began to see the white cloak of the Order. Almost as soon as the animancer disappeared over the corner, he reappeared, embedded into the drywall behind him. He dropped down to his knees and tried to swing his sword, which was caught by a massive hand. Jasmin scrambled around the corner at the sound of conflict, and instinctively fired several 9mm shots at whatever was there with him and the animancer.

The animancer's sword was dropped as soon as the gunshots went off. Sawyer scrambled towards Jasmin, towards covering fire. The clopping of heels resumed. Sawyer cursed. "This isn't the work I was trained for, you know!"

"Then what do they train you for?!" Jasmin tossed the pistol towards Sawyer, drawing the larger sidearm with his right hand and reaching for a flashlight with the left. The officer braced his dominant wrist with his other wrist, also causing the flashlight to remain parallel with the barrel of the revolver to illuminate what was ahead of him.

"Exorcisms? I usually don't deal with cartels," he replied. The animancer followed along at Jasmin's side. Despite having taken a beating, Sawyer was unscathed.

As they turned the corner, a wolf was at the end of the hallway, staring them down. At any movement, it rounded another corner, out of their sight again. Sawyer put a hand on Jasmin's arm. "Maybe we shouldn't keep going."

The officer raised an eyebrow, lowering his weapon but keeping the flashlight pointed down the hallway. "Why? Are you sensing something bad?"

"Something about that other soul doesn't feel right. It's pure... malice," he replied, trying to focus on the two souls ahead. "They aren't moving."

"Then one more reason to take them down, no?" Jasmin edged slightly towards the corner.

Sawyer took a slow breath and walked ahead. "Allow me," he told Jasmin, looking down the next hallway. He couldn't have been more right. No sooner had he rounded the corner did a hulking wolf slam into him, burying him again into the wall, and rebound off of the animancer into Jasmin. The sudden attack from the wolf caused Jazz to jolt backwards slightly, raising his revolver and firing the rest of the loaded bullets at the assailant, sending four .50 caliber silver bullets on a collision course for the wolf's torso. As the werewolf descended onto Jazz, several shots embeded themselves into its body. His descent was already in motion, and the giant creature would land, unceremonously, on top of the officer. It gurgled, but its jaws still fought to close onto Jazz's thin neck. Jasmin shouted as he toppled over, holding the empty revolver under the werewolf's neck and chin and pushing up as hard as he could, to try to hold its mouth shut, push it way, and also attempt to cut off what was left of its breating. Claws embedded themselves into the officer's arms. The willpower in the beast was strong, even dying as it was. It pushed against Jazz's pistol, and its tongue swiped the man's skin. Before it went any further, the creature fell limp. It was shrugged to the side, revealing the animancer and his white uniform splattered in blood. He held out a hand to Jasmin.

"One down. Are you alright?"

Lambert cried out in pain when the claws dug through his flesh, barely missing the tendons that gave control over his wrists and hands. The sleeves to his uniform were noticeably rended where the beast had its grip, but when it finally fell away, no skin could be seen beneath the cuts. His arms were quickly being soaked, and he clutched his arms to try to hold the biggest gashes shut.

"I'm bleeding a lot Sawyer, I don't know if I can go much farther," he eventually pushed himself to his feet, but the loss of blood was quickly getting to him as he needed to lean against a wall to keep from falling. Sawyer reached for him and put an arm around Jazz's waist. "Let's leave. There's no reason to pursue."

By this time the other officers had reached them after hearing the noise. The animancer gave them a few words of direction and hauled Jasmin back up to the entrance. An ambulance had already been called for the victims of the brothel.

"How're you enjoying your first raid, there, Officer Lambert?" joked Sawyer.

"Well I just saved my sister and dozens of other kidnapped people, so you tell me," Jasmin gave a weak grin, "but can you hurry up and get me to a hospital? I'll probably go into shock any minute now."

"Rodger that," said Sawyer. The ambulance arrived shortly after. The EMT personnel rushed to Lambert's side and ushered him toward their truck.Sawyer turned back to face the brothel and swiped a hand through his hair.

What a hell of a day.
 
as written by Ronin

Robert Arodring knelt before what he could only assume had been a human woman. The body, more husk than corpse, curdled into the cobblestone like a dying roach, her skin stretched tight against her bones and her shriveled lips widened in a gumless scream. The paladin looked into her eyes - empty black sockets - his gloved hand tracing her leatherskinned cheekbone. He wondered if he'd ever get used to this part of the job.

Police technicians worked around him, snapping photographs and cordoning off the area. A wino found her body last night in an alleyway, positioned in the center of a strange circle comprised of runes written in blood.

"Any luck on the forensics?" Robert asked a passing technician.

"We're working on the blood samples from the ring. Should have it back soon," the mustached officer nodded, "as for the girl..." He shook his head. "Nothing. No wallet, no phone. We're monitoring missing persons reports. Hopefully we'll have something soon."

The paladin sighed. He'd hoped for more of a lead by now. It wasn't often that they nabbed a corpse so fresh after the murder - especially in a neighborhood like this. As it stood, they didn't even know if 'Atano' was responsible for this mishap, though it certainly seemed likely. Maybe Perrin was having better luck examining the exterior perimeter.

Robert rose to his full height - easily dwarfing the other officers - and made for his partner.

"Body doesn't look too promising on clues," Robert groaned, rolling his shoulder forward. The plate clinked against his nanofoam. "How's your luck?" A small grin. "...a trail of blood leading straight to the perpetrator, perhaps?"
 
as written by Script

"Nothing quite so considerate," Perrin replied with a dry smile. "A shame, really, that these maniacs don't have the forethought for things like that. It would be a small gesture to make our jobs so much easier."

There'd been little in the way of hints as to where the perpetrator had gone, just from looking at the alley, but he'd spotted a few things that showed promise. "The liquor store opposite the alley on this side has CCTV facing the street. I've sent someone in to get the tapes, so hopefully that will give us a good starting point. If he came out on this side. Unfortunately it's all residential on the opposite end, and I didn't see any private cameras when I did a scout of the street. If the CCTV comes up dry, we can try a door-to-door, see if anyone saw any strangers last night."

The slighter paladin swivelled around to lean against the alley wall with a sigh, his own lighter plate scraping slightly on the brick. "With any luck, our 'secret weapon' will be able to tell us more... ah, and as if on cue."

A figure dressed in white was just slipping past the police barrier around the alleyway. Noah nodded a greeting to the pair of paladins as he approached, his long cloak trailing behind him in the light morning breeze.

"Nice of you to join us!" Perrin called, grinning at the animancer.

Noah raised an eyebrow. "I apologise for not arriving sooner. Unfortunately, I didn't get issued a motorbike when I graduated. I had to get a taxi."

"If you'd needed a lift..."

"I'd prefer to avoid riding tandem, if it's all the same. I've seen how you paladins drive those things." The younger man grimaced. "Now, do you want me to take a look at the victim, or not?"

"I'll have you know I'm a very responsible driver." Perrin answered, huffing, but he gestured for Noah to join them in the alley. Together, they approached the body once more.

Noah knelt beside it, frowning as he got a closer look at the markings. "I don't recognise all of these symbols. I think that they're abyssal runes - used in demoncraft, or something similar. It's blood magic, if that wasn't already obvious enough by the choice of ink. Give me a minute to see if I can pick up anything of her soul..."

The animancer closed his eyes and held his palm over the woman's chest, searching out the residual anima that a departed soul normally left in its wake. His hand gave off a soft glow as he held it there in silence.

Perrin glanced across at Robert uncomfortably. "You know, this is probably one hundred percent against regulations. We'd normally need to file paperwork for this sort of thing, right?"
 
Back
Top