Awwww, ****! (INVITE)

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson wanted to go home. That’s all she wanted. She wanted to get out of this restaurant (if that’s what she could even call it), get out of Redwood, get out of Harper Rock and go home. At home, she’d be safe. At home, she wouldn’t be stumbling into this kind of mess, something violent and dangerous and oh so illegal. Home. Emerson’s green eyes were ablaze with fear as she scanned every room, every hall, every door. Which way was the way out? Which way was the way home?

One door was left open, but she could hear voices coming from the room, so Emerson went past it. She didn’t dare look back. If anything, she moved faster. Another door opened, but the way out was blocked by a man who was the absolute definition of tall. Emerson momentarily wondered if he played basketball because he would definitely be good at it, but the thought vanished as the brunette realized that this could be another man set out to get her.

The girl’s pace slowed to avoid crashing into the tall man, and she looked around frantically for a way out. She could hear the footsteps of the other male coming closer, and she saw the tall man reaching for a gun, and no, Emerson was not going to die tonight. If she could duck under one guy’s arm, she could duck under another’s. However, it didn’t take long for her to realize that the giant man wasn’t aiming the gun at her, and her ears were greeted with the unfamiliar sound of explosions. Of course she had heard such on television shows and in movies, but this was real life, and in real life, there was something splattering all over her face, her hair, her clothes.

She didn’t want to look down to see it, but she did. Red blood, bright and still warm, and something else, grey and mushy and nothing less than revolting.

“Oh, my new outfit,” she mumbled.

And then she passed out.

[Mordechai]

Mordechai paused a moment, frozen like a statuary worked of granite as his sense stretched out through the slit second of peace and calm. The eye of the hurricane, so to speak. The massive killer, had always been an anomaly. His massive size was fitting and expected for a proselyte of Klae. The innate intelligence that allowed him access and defence to powers from across the spectrum, as well as his stellar hacking abilities, was not. The Sangue male was a most atypical killer. Every action, every mission was plotted in advance, using all available information. As he slowly knelt reaching toward the unresponsive female who seemed to have passed out because her outfit was dirty, his mind raced, quickly inserting all he observed so far into a random modeling of Lanchester’s Squared Law, to ascertain the percent chance of successfully rescuing Prudence, while simultaneously ridding the city of more of its ever spawning bottom feeders.

A small shrug accompanied the final calculations as he grabbed the pitiful human’s outfit, and hoisted her body. Massive muscles rippled as the limp body was launched through the open doorway, a necessary distraction. “Hit the deck” silently rippled through Pru’s mind, as the matched set of 10mm Glocks formed a triangular patterned extension from the core of his body, and began perforating the sheet steel and foam structure of the cooler, each bullet hole precisely twenty- five minute of angle apart from the last one fired as a line stitched itself thirty inches above the floor,perfectly set to destroy the pelvis of an enemy wrapped in armor. Tactical reloads went smoothly as the fine weapons silenced. ‘Prudence?’

[Prudence]

Part of her wanted him to do it. See how good his aim was, how deep the bullet would go in, if she would survive it [though, she suspected she would], and just to see his reaction if she didn't go down. If she got right back up and opened an assault on punk *** Pascal's face and body. The other part wanted him to be bluffing, only because Prudence knew the massive ******* headache she would get from a bullet lodged in her skull for even a few minutes before the killer worked it out of her head with either her fingers, or some instrument, thanks to the assistance of her bff, Mordie. Whatever Pascal did, wouldn't really matter because either thing he did would present a potential problem of, "oh heeeeeeeeey, I'm a vampire." She had told her small 'family' of sorts that they could do whatever they wanted to do was their business, if they wanted to out themselves, well that was their business, but they shouldn't be outing anyone else. So, if Pascal shot her and she got up and acted just fine, well..he would imagine something was up. If he didn't and she just unleashed hell on him anyways, because she was getting tired of the whole, 'I've got a bigger dick than you, and a gun, nah-nah-nah' playground ********, he would know. His men would know, should any be able to get away.

Thankfully, she wouldn't have to expose herself as a vampire because low and behold the girl of the hour came soaring in to the room, which was hilarious as hell, but since she was to 'hit the ground,' the whole ******* imagery was lost as Prudence shifted her weight to the left and the chair she was in toppled over. Things with Prudence and Mordie were never really boring, he was more of a fly by the seat kind of guy, whereas Prudence was a had to know every detail and plan sort of gal, and should plan A fail, what would plan B, be? She suspected it was because she had to be prepared because the chances of her dying were greater than her once upon a time mentee. To take Mordie down would take a whole ******* army and then some, whereas four or five really well armed people could probably take Prudence down.

Bullets discharged from Pascal's glock, but not at her. Instead, all gunfire was on Mordie, while the limp girl was ignored by everyone. Pascal figured if he dealt with the larger target first, then the smaller ones would be easier to deal with once the biggest obstacle was out of his way. In theory, he was probably right, but then again he didn't know that there was another person in the building that could withstand a whole clip from his glock and when he needed to empty it and replace it, then would come his downfall. But, as fast as that thought entered Prudence's mind, it seemed Pascal was short changed as he was only able to fire off two rounds from his gun before bullets rained down on him. What was left of him was on the ground, a pile of squishy flesh, gooey tissue and blood oozing out on the floor of the old meat storage locker. "Hoooooly ****, Mordie." Prudence said after she whistled and stood, her right booted foot giving what was left of the guy a swift kick in his side. "I was gonna try and pump him for some intel, but I don't think he's anything more than a dick, so." She shrugged her shoulders and looked to the dark haired girl on the ground. "I never seen a girl so eager to get away from ya before." She cackled before moving over to her partner in crime and giving him a nudge with her elbow. "Thanks, dude."

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson was a girl who had never been particularly exposed to the wrongs of the world. Her parents had sheltered her, and kept her safe, and when she had moved out, their means of protection seemed to all but wither away. Being in such an overwhelming situation in which she literally had to run for her life, and then had someone killed right before her eyes was enough to knock the poor girl out. It’s not like she’d never had a dirty outfit before. She just never had an outfit dirty with the blood and gore of someone before.

Emerson was not yet conscious when her body was thrown - thrown - across the way and into the room of the meat cooler. She was not conscious enough to completely register the pain that blossomed as her body, especially her head, came in contact with the hard surface of the floor. She had been in a car crash only a month prior, leaving her with a concussion that was just almost healed. Who knew what the added head trauma would leave her with?

And, really, could the universe not cut her some slack?

After laying limp on the floor for a few minutes, the girl was able to slowly regain consciousness. She didn’t remember closing her eyes or having a pounding pain in her head, but that’s where she found herself. It took a bit of effort to open her eyes, and she was shocked to find herself surrounded by red. She could see it staining her hands. She could see the streaks of it on the floor leading up to two pairs of feet, which belonged to a woman with red hair - go figure - and a very tall man.

The brunette had no idea who they were. She didn’t really have much of a clue where she was (or who she was, and that scared her more than she would have liked to admit) but some gut instinct told her that this blood was on their hands, and she needed to get away from them. Fast.

So she tried to get herself up, but doing so took effort, and that made her headache worse. The girl let out something like a whimper and tried again.

[Mordechai]

The killer turned silently surveying the detritus and debris that covered the floors of the now destroyed cooler as he listened to his redheaded friend. She had become so emotional after spawning a large quantity of allurist into the city, but she was still first. No one ranked higher than the statuesque titan haired killer in his life. She had called he came, she had been threatened, but that was no more. He had made sure of that. His eyes settled on the young human female that was slowly waking. Swiftly and quietly, Mordechai supplied all the information he had gotten off the license plate, and names associate with it as he stalked closer to the woman. Humans ‘knew’ about vampires now it seemed. The killer wonder how much of that was the fault of the siren ***** that had run for mayor. She had lost, but to be honest, he doubted the winner was much better. Closing his eyes he rested his hands on his hips, turning back to face his friend, one hand fell to his thigh, a small sucking sound slipping through the air as he slowly pulled back the jeans surrounding the skilled mechanic and farmer wounded leg.. Bullet infused . When it came down to it, whether they knew or not, Mordechai never left witnesses behind, and as one hand snapped out to left the woman by her throat, he turned and stepped closer to Prudence.

“He slid in 2 lucky hits, I need to feed, we need no witnesses. His lips parted as he lowered his elongated canines to the woman's throat, before a snap of his neck send the fangs piercing deep into the fresh oxygenated blood of her carotid. The killer drank deep noticing but not caring as the woman’s struggles slowed till they were almost non existent , before he raised his head, handing the woman’s near corpse like body to Prudence.

“Share…” Rising to his full height he ignored the cooling body,,,,, Mordechai read the men throughout a sea Those ebony ….. Highlights in her hair, it was ... Well it was a privilege To drink of one young, yet pure, was a privilege.. “ Is there anymore information you need collected?”

[Prudence]

The human was paid little mind to as Prudence's eyes dropped to the wounds of her friend. Best friend. They had been through a lot of **** together-some really good times and then some not so good times too. But here they were-what? Five years later? She'd never tell him, but she loved the mess out of the beast of the male. Outside of her husband, and even then, Mordie probably knew more about Prudence than Prudence knew about herself given the changes she had gone through in those five years.

"Getting slow in yer old age, I see." Prudence cackled as Mordie claimed the female for a snack, finding it unlikely that he absolutely had to feed in that moment. He was stronger than she was in so many different ways, but then again...why let a perfectly good human go to waste? At some point he would have to get some blood, so it made sense. "Welp, he sure ain't talking and neither is any of his goons. Dunno about the people in the kitchen. If they work for him, just happen to be in the same vicinity...but I say let's just off them too. Better to be safe than sorry. Especially with all those mother fuckers out there that want to put us in cages or camps or what the **** ever it was." Prudence narrowed her eyes as she looked at the offering of the dark haired girl from her friend. "Please. He ain't roughed me up that bad." Prudence rolled her eyes, as her left hand came to the left corner of her lip where she had been smacked at once while inside the car.

When her hand lowered back to her side, it was then Prudence noticed a small, eight legged fiend spiraling its way down from the ceiling, right above the woman that was manipulated like nothing more than a doll in her friend's arms. Her eyes narrowed slowly as she took a small step backwards from Mordie and from the unknown woman. "Put. Her. Down." Prudence said in a choppy breath before the spider blew in Prudence's direction from a draft of cold air that came from behind and around Mordie. She erupted into a scream of terror before Prudence started karate chopping the air, thrashing at everything and anything before she bolted for the door, but barrelled blindly into Mordie and the woman as her arms were flying all around in every which direction. She rolled to the ground, scraping against broken glass from bottles and light bulbs before Prudence sat on her *** and scooted back against a wall, eyes darting from left to right, searching for the vermin.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Just as the girl was getting up, walking away, and getting the heck out of wherever she was, a hand was wrapping around her throat a bit too tight for comfort. She could barely let enough oxygen fill her lungs, let alone make even the slightest sound - out of pain, or in hopes that someone would hear her. In the end, it mattered little, and she did everything she could to try to get away. She kicked her legs every which way, twisted her body, and tried to pry away the fingers from her neck, but her efforts were useless, and by goodness was she exhausted. Something sharp pricked her neck, and then she was... numb. Her last amounts of energy felt as if they were literally draining out of her. Her whole body slowly began to relax, and she didn't fight her drooping eyelids. Was she dying? Passing out again? About to wake up from this horrible dream?

The girl felt immensely weak, but she was still there, holding on to whatever life she had left in her, in and out of consciousness. Her vision was blurry and whatever conversation that was going on in the background was muffled. She did, however, catch a hint of a scream, and felt herself falling to the ground. Again. This time, the air felt colder, but her head still hurt. And there was something brassy in her mouth. Blood? And if it was, was it her own, or someone else's? Then again, did it matter? She was tired. Maybe someone would find her on the ground, or maybe the man and the woman would kill her and that would be the end of it all.

And how ironic it was that Emerson really could become a corpse in an alley for someone to find.

[Mordechai]

What... The... ****...

Mordechai knew all of the serious actors were dead. No one else had entered the area. Yet the titian haired killer that had been talking to him, hjad gone batshit crazy, as if they were under attack. Arms windmilling, legs flailing she had charged into, and bounced off of the massive killer, tearing the human from his grip and rolling around in the detritus and debris, slicing herself on glass and spreading her blood and DNA everywhere. This is what the hunters thrived on. They would know, as soon as her blood reached a crime lab, that vampires had been here, that vampires, had fought, that vampires, had killed. The rhetoric would ratchet up, the news would proclaim, the rumors grow, and more self proclaimed saviors of the human race would emerge. To die on his blade. Mordechai was about done with the uppity attitude that seemed to be growing among the feedstock.

The killer stepped forward as he slipped a hand into his pocket his eyes surveying the now totally blood covered human, and the equally soaked Prudence, who was still scrambling against the wall as if trying to get away from something. His eyes surveiled the area as a smirk grew on his lips, "I love what you have done with your hair." stepping forward his eyes caught motion and the giant stooped, letting his hand rest on the floor. Rising he turned to face the two women, one panicked, one dying. Slowly the fingers of his hand uncurled, one at a time, as his eyebrow rose higher and higher. A tiny arachnid nestled in the ridges of his palm. "This?" he queried disbelievingly. "This....?" Slowly his body began to shake as a roiling boiling bubble of laughter churned its way up from deep in the depths of his soul.

[Prudence]

The human was forgotten about, because she was probably dead, or very close to being dead, in Prudence's mind. While that spider was still very much alive and the bigger problem at hand in Prudence's irrational mind. Mordie made a comment about her hair, but she didn't give a **** about how her hair looked. Nice, wild, crazy, matted to hear head. None of it mattered. Prudence wasn't one of those types of chicks. The ones driven by vanity.

When Mordie showed off his new side kick, Prudence shrieked once again before her right leg shot out at his hand, and tried to flick the disgusting creature far, far, far, away from them all. "STOP!" She shot up from the ground to bolt from the big beast of her friend, and his spider friend. Boots pounded on the floor and inadvertently on the wind pipe of the woman, crushing it beneath Prudence's black boots as she escaped to the hallway and past the kitchen that had once been filled with staff-now empty. Driven by fear they had fled the scene and more than likely called the cops. The woman, long forgotten about as Prudence made her way out of the building. If she possessed a nuke, the entire building would be demolished in seconds, as would that spider.

Her hands roamed over her body as her legs were shaken out, Prudence jumping up and down, making sure no spiders were anywhere on her, before she grabbed her phone and texted a 'ha-ha. Not funny!' To Mordie. Her free hand continued to swipe at things that weren't on her, before Prudence shuddered. 'I'm out.' She sent Mordie a second text before shoving the phone in her back pocket. No way, no how was she going back in that building and it was guaranteed that Mordie couldn't make her either. Not once Prudence crossed the street and waited for her friend to join her.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson believed in some kind of God. She really did. She had grown up in a household with two very spiritual parents, and although they were of different faiths, their practices and lifestyles didn’t clash in any way. They incorporated aspects of each religion into their daughter’s life as she grew, but they never forced her to believe any of it. The Vettels left that decision up to Emerson on her own. Granted, as she grew up, surrounded by friends who believed in more or less the same concept, she began to form her own views and opinions. With her school sharing and exposing her mind to the ideas of science, she was often conflicted in what to or not to believe. Nonetheless, as she grew older, she stood by her changing decisions and welcomed the possibility that the decisions she had one day could be different the next. Before today, the day in Harper Rock, the day of witnessing things too extreme for her fragile heart, she believed in some kind of God. Someone who was looking out for her, facing her with light challenges so she could grow and learn and become a better version of her truest self. But then, as she lay in an alley covered in blood and gore, struggling to breathe and see and hear and think, she didn’t believe in a God anymore. What kind of God was cruel enough to let her die? What kind of God didn’t recognize that good things should happen to good people?

She was dying. There was no way to deny it. The air wasn’t passing through her lungs as easily as it used to. Breathing was something people weren’t conscious of - you didn’t have to think about it. All Emerson could do, then and there, as she lay on the ground, was think about breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. In. out. With each breath, the task became increasingly difficult. Something was making her lungs and her throat feel tight. When she couldn’t bear to think about how she would soon stop breathing, she thought about her heart beating. She could hear it doing so, loud in her ears, worsening the already throbbing pain in her head. The beat was pounding, deafening, overwhelming, but it was there. At least it was still there.

But then something made her stop thinking about breathing, stop hearing her heartbeat. An unidentifiable force brought all her pain bubbling to the surface one moment and completely wiped it all away the next. It was a sensation like nothing she had ever experienced before, she was sure of it, but she was thankful for when it was over. No longer did her head or chest ache. No longer did she have to see the blood of another human being coating her skin and her clothes. Instead, she drifted in nothingness, a vast unknown on darkness and silence. The place was cool, but not cold. Not freezing, or particularly uncomfortable, but enough to notice the change in temperature. Unlike what others had told her, there was no light to be found at the end of the tunnel. She felt as if she was floating in space. Had she? Had the energy from her soul been birthed into that of a distant star?

What happened next was like something out of a movie. Emerson’s eyes flew open wide as a strangled sound ripped from the back of her throat. The pain was back. All the pain, hot like a white light, from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. It spread like fire, consuming her, burning her alive with every twitch, every breath, every beat of her heart. Or, lack thereof. The pounding of her heartbeat in her ears was replaced with a continuous roll of buzzing pain, pain, pain. She couldn’t figure out what was going on. Her surroundings seemed the same as they were before she closed her eyes. A dark alleyway littered with glass and blood and debris. The same place from before she died. Did she not? Was she surviving, thriving off the slivers of life some uncruel God was offering her as a second chance? She didn’t want to think about it. In fact, she couldn’t. All she could do was let small sobs rack her body as she managed to somehow curl up onto her side, knees to her chest and arms locked tightly around them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blur of shoes she had seen earlier. One less pair, but a pair nonetheless. Was it the tall man, or the woman? Neither one of them seemed to give off a particularly welcoming presence. But what else could she do?

"P-please," she begged quietly. What she was begging for was even unknown to the young brunette herself. For the pain to stop, to spare her life, to give her answers about who she was and why she was here and what the **** was going on. Anything was welcome. Anything at all.