▽ ᴍᴏʀᴘʜᴇᴜs ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇx [SIDE STORY + IMPACT]

[Remington Rothfelder]

Open to: Velveteen, Nix, Aphyon, Aksel.

The amalgamation of flesh stitched corpses lumbered towards him. In one hand, he held the blade he had been gifted by Blake for Christmas, Peacemaker. The piece was finely crafted, and well kept, light reflecting off of its metallic surfaces to pair well with Warmonger, a gun made by Phoenix. Remington had enjoyed how fitting that was, receiving a paired set of weapons from a couple. Normally, he was most gifted at close range combat. In life, Remi had been an MMA instructor, a man whose entire life had been centered around getting up close and personal with someone, getting inside their defenses, and ripping them apart one punch, or kick, or jab at a time. He had been good at his job, but he knew all too well how ugly those abominations could be when they got their hands on you.

He hung back in the shadows of a corner, mostly faded into them save for the gleam off his new favorite weapons, and the eerily opaque intensity of his green eyes. Shots rang out, and the floor became littered with used up rounds, the shells appearing almost like a graveyard of dead and dying fireflies. Every blast from the barrel created kickback that would have been difficult to manage without Remington’s vampiric strength; it barely registered to him. While each blow was not necessarily fatal, most of them seemed to hit their mark, the ones that didn’t plunking into the wall on the far side of the vampire, behind the monstrosity. It was stone, and dust broke away, parts crumbling from the impact point.

The mooncalf staggered forward until he was nearing arm’s reach of Remington, and so the man pushed the gun into its holster so that he could dart inside of the monster’s range of motion as arms lifted to reach for him. A newly freed hand grasped the hilt of his sword and he swung up at an angle right as he was about to collide with a body. The sharp edge cut cleanly through what might have been a shoulder joint had the mooncalf’s anatomy been normal, and then sliced cleanly through the top part of a head. The thing essentially dissolved after that point, falling into pieces on the ground. Dead.

He wiped his blade on a scrap of fabric and discarded the rag as he sheathed the sword. His tome was out a second later, which took him to the Eyrie. The fastest way to get out of one of those raid buildings when you were buried several floors deep. He needed to feed, and there wasn’t an abundance of humans in places like that. So he ended up on the streets just a few minutes after that, completely masked by the darkness, because he liked to carry his weapons on his person and didn’t like to be stopped by cops. Gun laws and all that.

He took a turn towards the Cherrydale station when he caught sight of a face that looked vaguely familiar. It took him a second to place it, but the woman was a rogue vampire, one that had only just recently gained some violations on CrowNet. Well that was a pleasant turn of events. Remington seemed to have terrible luck at finding targets, even when he had the aid of his wraith. He pulled his cell from his pocket as he tailed her while she made her way down the street. Invisible, there was no risk of her seeing him, but he stuck back far enough that none of her other senses would pick him up as well. A text was sent to a few members of his faction, Velveteen amongst others. Rarely did they need more than a handful to take out a rogue vampire, so it didn’t seem to fit with logic to try and call in everyone.

She ducked into a diner a few moments later, a nondescript little place whose graveyard shift had next to no patrons, and one elderly lady waiting the tables. He leaned against the wall outside and hit the submit button on a location and name, waiting for the crew to arrive.

[Phoenix]

Bathed in the sickly orange glow of light pollution from the city to the north, the trees outside the Citadel shed snow like dandruff as a gentle wind stirred, rattling winter bleached branches. That wind picked up some of the shed flakes, sending swirls of white dancing across the landscape, each composed of thousands of delicate little particles. Some people would be delighted waking up to find a fresh blanket of snow shrouding the trees and hills of their homestead; each of those little white specks that together formed an nigh impregnable mass of fuckery, they said, was distinct and uniquely enchanting if one only took a moment to look. Glittering in the shifting light, each little crystal could rival the brilliance of a diamond. Oh yes... some people thought snow was delightful.

Standing far above the expanse of snow and ice-covered forest, Phoenix thought those people were complete morons. These, the redhead suspected, were probably the same bunch of morons that'd spew any and every platitude that came to mind to make themselves feel better about someone else's shitty situation. Even the conifers looked sad and drained of color, and she was pretty sure they weren't conscious. With a snort of disgust, Nix turned from the window overlooking the balcony and stormed back into the recesses of her fortress back to her work within.

Although she couldn't quite feel the cold anymore, Nix had dragged her workbench to the fireplace and set up shop as close as was prudent for one working with gunpowder. Even though she couldn't feel the cold radiating from the stone walls, she knew is should have been cold, and so she'd acted accordingly. Hours passed as she tinkered and fiddled, shaped and enhanced, rasped and molded gun parts into finer, more accurate specimens. She wasn't always successful, but as time wore on, her efforts paid off. Her Fury was a testament to those efforts, and yes, the Shadow was proud.

When her phone vibrated, announcing the receipt of a text, she set down the barrel she'd been honing and glanced over. Remington. A grin spread over her lips as she read the message, "Nice," she muttered under her breath. Replying wasn't necessary - she knew where he was and what he'd wanted, and so she complied.

Within minutes she was ready to roll, with a scarf concealing her hair and the black hood of her puffed jacket making doubly sure her rather distinctive form was well concealed along with the rifle she bore. She stepped through the portal that let out behind Cherrydale station and made the short trek to the diner, snow crunching under the heels of her combat boots with every step. The place was lit up like a fishbowl from the inside, so she didn't bother keeping to the shadows. The rogue wouldn't be able to see her even if she tried.

Once she had Remi in her sights - or more accurately, her senses - Phoenix slipped over, greeting her faction mate with a smirk.

"So that's the rogue? What the hell is she doing in a diner?"

[Velveteen]

Velveteen had her booted feet kicked up on the table and crossed at the ankles as she leaned back and teetered her chair on two legs whilst trying to balance a pen on her nose. Her phone sat in her lap. The device, almost an integral part of her being as she was often needed somewhere or other for one thing or another,was never too far away, ever. Who knew when she would get a call and need to be somewhere immediately. Micah had an appointment booked at Masterpiece which was going to keep him busy for a couple of hours at least and this was one of those perfect opportunities to catch up on faction stuff and take care of some of those things she kept putting off. The minutes from the most recent council meeting were currently under the table under her feet. To her credit she did look them over for a whole….three minutes before pushing them away. She knew what needed to be done and she would do it….but first she needed to ‘think’ - also known as distracting one’s self with something mindless while completely avoiding the task at hand.

So there she was, catching the pen every time it fell, telling herself that the next time it would happen, and then she would get back to work. If she even thought to look at the time she would realise she had being doing this for an hour already.

The woman was, however, blissfully unaware, having completely lost herself in the moment and the need to succeed no matter how inconsequential and unnecessary this goal actually was, unless one was looking to be the star attraction at some water park. She wondered for a moment if this was something that seals and dolphins actually enjoyed doing. Did such creatures even feel a sense of achievement? Did they get off on adoration and the applause that followed each of their little tricks that they did day after annoying day? Was their consciousness sophisticated enough to realise these things? Or were they completely satisfied with the few fish they earned each day for their efforts? Such were the thoughts that ran her through her mind before it occurred to her that she hadn’t been holding the pen in place for a few seconds now and it still hadn’t fallen. Her arms were flung out victoriously throwing the teetering chair off balance.

Impact was imminent and instinct kicked in immediately. The power of celerity was both a power and a gift and one that she couldn’t imagine being without as suddenly the world around her seem to almost freeze. The falling chair moved so slowly that at first glance it would seem to be suspended there. It was as if time slowed down and she was the only one moving normally when in fact the complete opposite was true. The dark haired vampire rolled to the side and, once on her feet, stuck her toe out to catch the falling chair as time caught up with her. She grinned and gave the chair an icy stare before flicking her toe upward to right he offending piece of furniture when something behind her thudded heavily first against the wall and then on the floor. Her gaze shot over her shoulder to find her phone laying on the floor face down. She wrinkled her nose and groaned inwardly. It was more than likely that it didn’t survive the impact.

A couple of steps took her to where it was and she snatched it up just in time to see her childe’s name flash up on the shattered screen before it blinked out and now amount of effort was going to make it work ever again. After having tried and failed, the device was was thrown onto to the table. Velveteen was going to have to go and find him and find out personally why he was ringing. The floor length leather that had hung dutifully over the back of one of the chairs was shrugged on and her gun tucked into the backed of her leather pants. Several moments were taking as she eyespied and triangulated his location and was surprised to find he wasn’t all that far away. An appraisal also told her he wasn’t injured.

Barely a minute had passed before she was approaching the diner. She could sense him but she couldn’t see him. “I know you are here. I am sure you didn’t call me up to come play hide and seek in the snow.” Apart from the very few inside the diner, which Velveteen paid little attention to, the street looked rather deserted until she rounded the corner. Her head tilted curiously. “Nix? What are you doing here?”

[Aksel]

Silence. Solitude. Serenity.
The three keys to finding oneself. The three things most easily found within one’s own mind.

Release. Relaxation.
Two things that are easy enough to find, when you know where to look.


Silence enveloped the apartment. Aside from the muted whisper of Trinity’s breathing deep in her sleep, the place was entirely void of sound. She lay bare, her body splayed across the bed beside him as she slumbered, her breathing soft and even, a habit her body had still yet to break in the deepest recesses of her subconscious. He doubted that breathing was an easy thing for instinct to let go. He tipped his head back in the silence, letting it consume him as he sat, his form relaxed, his legs folded before him as he let the darkness that plagued his brain work its way through his consciousness. Tonight had been particularly hard on the blonde at his back. He could still smell her blood on the air. It had been important that it happened, however.

The voice always came when he drew blood. It always seemed angrier when it was her blood.

Useless ********. You cannot save her, you know. No matter how hard you try, you cannot save anyone.

You will fail her.

Just like you failed me.

His concentration was broken in the opening moments of the conflict that was about to unfold when his phone lit up on the nightstand. No ring, no vibration. The ghosts of his past clung to his soul like a grime that he couldn’t cleanse. He had scoured, scorched, and scrubbed until his very spirit was raw, writhing in the mire of pain that he had forced himself to endure, and still he felt dirty. He was defiled, broken. He was wrong. He endured this mental grapple with the literal ghost that clung to him almost nightly, and the woman next to him had played an integral part in that ritual nearly every night since they had met. He was undoubtedly connected with her. She was a part of him, now.

The near absolute silence was a key to concentration. The static ring of electricity that the phone’s backlight caused, almost inaudible to the human ear, was like a knife into his brain in the silence, without the usual hushed roar of everyday life to drown out the electronic sound. His fingers twitched as one eye slowly opened, the onyx orb falling on the screen. It remained mostly black, just the single notification for Remington’s text message left on its display. He was meticulous about keeping it cleared. He reached out, a single digit sliding across the flawless glass as he left the device resting against the table and used the one open eye to read over the text.

He turned to the woman next to him, still sleeping soundly, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss to her full, soft lips as she slept. He moved, whispering quietly into her ear. “I need to go. I will be back. I have my phone with me, so do not worry.” He knew that, somewhere in her subconscious, even as she slept, that she could hear him. There were a lot of things he didn’t understand about the brain, and as a telepath, she was even more a mystery than the average mind. It was all different parts of what made her so special. Slowly, he unfurled his legs and stood. He stretched, arms out wide as he allowed the ache of the muscles in his back to subside before he began to gather his clothes.

The assault rifle on the nightstand was the last piece. It fit nicely over the leather coat that Trinity had given him from her store, the weight settling easily across his shoulder. He was glad to finally give the weapon a real test. Closed his eyes and took a slow breath, still unsure if he was ready to stand before his faction. He never felt ready. Never felt exactly worthy of his place there. His eyes moved to the blonde in the bed as she turned onto her side. He hated to leave her behind. He shook his head, and pulled the tome from its place inside his coat. He lifted his thumb to his fang, and with a light knick, drew a bead of blood that he pressed to the already stained corner of the page. Before he could blink, the powers of the tome had yanked him through space and time, delivering his body to the Eerie where he could take stock of his ammunition.

It was only moments later that his boots were to the streets, the pair of women standing outside the diner already enough bodies in one place to raise an eyebrow in the nearly abandoned sidewalk, his presence would only make the group stand out that much more. He remained on the corner, just out of sight of the diner as he adjusted his headset in his ear. To the passerby, it looked just like a Jawbone, linked to his phone. Aksel had a knack for being as inconspicuous as possible from a distance. He frowned, and pressed his back to the bricks of the building he settled against, the weapon against his back as well hidden as could be for the time being.

“I am here.” his voice sounded over the standard channel, announcing his presence to those that may have missed him sliding into place. All that was left for him now was to wait for the signal.

[Remington Rothfelder]

“Getting eggs and pancakes? **** if I know, but we’re going to have to isolate her before we can move in. Shouldn’t be too hard if you ask me, the place is barely alive.” Which was true. The last patrons had fled shortly after the rogue had arrived, which only left the aging waitress and the cook. The former of the two had come to the front of the store briefly and turned the little sign on the front to read ‘closed’, even though the notice just beneath it said that the place would be open for another three hours. That seemed peculiar. As was the way that the waitress did not address the vampire inside. She just kept working on the same cycle of tables endlessly. She would approach, wipe a cloth in a circular motion over them before moving to the next. She had made the cycle twice by the time Phoenix arrived, and Remington wagered there was something off there.

“The others should be arriving soon.” He murmured then into the darkness. Both he and Nix shared a path, and there was a comfort that came with that, with being part of the shadows and feeling at home wrapped up in them. He had been a loner by nature before having been turned, and the small handful of friends he’d picked up whilst in Tytonidae was the largest collection he’d ever managed at a given time. Such was the solitary road of their kind; it was one that he both understood and respected. He felt little need, for that reason, to fill the space between them with idle chatter. They were there to complete a job, and something told him that picking up clues about the best way to approach the situation was something Nix would have preferred over chit-chat about other, meaningless topics.

“I think maybe she enthralled the waitress.” He finally said right as Velveteen arrived, or just as she was approaching. “There’s a rogue in the diner. I sent out a text to a few people, figured we could take her out before she does something to draw more attention to himself.” It was not much by way of greetings, but he also wore an invisible smile. An expression his sire likely knew was there if solely because Remi always seemed to wear one when she neared. Theirs was a simple and yet strong bond, one that had been forged in the exchange of life and the depth of friendship. There were many vampires who had not been so lucky as to gel well with the one who had turned them. His mind briefly turned to Satine then, but it was almost impossible for it not to when thinking about her twin.

The hour was up, and he began to reappear from the shadows, first his face, and then the rest of him.

Seemingly on cue, the rogue moved to stand. The three of them were out of sight, and for a moment Remington wondered if they had done something to alert her. But she did not move to confront them. Instead, she made her way towards the back. Was there an exit there? He slipped on his ear piece before nodding in that direction. “I’ll go cover the backside.” Normally that would have been a terrible pun, but Remington was usually all business when it came to vampiric secrecy. He could make jokes later. He turned to make sure the rogue woman did not flee, and that was around the same time that Aksel joined the crew out front.

What Remi found was an alley with a dumpster. The diner did have another exit, and the door was ajar, but what he heard told him that she had not fled. There was a scream, and the crunching of bone. Suddenly blood began to pour across the tiled floor, getting into the grooves. She had just killed the cook. “Permission to engage?” He asked as he drew his sword.

[Phoenix]

"Agreed on both counts," she replied to the spot of darkness that was her faction mate. Little did Remi know that Nix, despite her path, could fill any lull in conversation with idle chit chat at a moments notice. When she was in a good mood, and not in the middle of eyeing up an old waitress in a shitty diner. Of course she'd been listening to Remi's assessment of the situation, and it only took a few minutes of watching the has been waitress to concur, but her mind was elsewhere.

In another lifetime, thirty years from now, that woman waiting tables in a run down diner, with no future, a past filled with regret, and crushed dreams could have been her. She couldn't have stayed a bartender forever, after all. And what would have happened to her as she aged? Nothing good. The city was filled with millions of special little snowflakes, most literal, but what she saw inside the sad little diner was anything but special. Ironically, it was a snowflake catching in her long eyelashes that brought her back to the present more than anything she heard from her companions. Yes, companions - while she'd zoned out, Vel had managed to sneak up on her.

"Watching some ***** get late night eggs and pancakes," she explained with a teasing grin. And then she sobered, "Rogue in there."

Drawn from her sullen reverie, Nix inclined her head to the diner and its patrons. With her hair tucked neatly under the hood of her jacket, she was pleasantly surprised Vel recognized her, though she supposed the emaciated legs jutting out from under the jacket gave her away. Either that, or her aura was just that strikingly unique. The thought nearly had her preening.

When Aksel's voice crackled over the ever present headset that seemed to be standard Tytonidae issue, those honey brown eyes flicked off in search. It didn't take her long to spot the man, though from a distance, she wouldn't have been able to identify him without the voice. Her hand went to the knife she kept on her person - a vicious thing, curved and sharp; there was potential for someone to overhead gunshots, and so she opted instead for a blade. More often than not, a well placed stab did far worse damage than a mediocre shot. When the rogue disappeared out of sight and Remi went to head her off out the back, Nix slipped up to the front door, eyes flicked to Vel for the okay as she pretended to stop and consider the establishment's hours of operation.

When that scream came forth from inside the diner, Phoenix cursed under her breath and rushed inside. She couldn't see Remi - not that the scream sounded much like him - but she wouldn't take the risk, and didn't quite have time to give it much rational thought. The redhead heard a scream and she reacted. Before Remi had the chance to ask permission, she'd bolted inside, easily snapping the door's feeble and worn lock. Phoenix was many things, but a coward she was not. The moment she entered the kitchen, she was greeted by a baffled looking waitress wielding a bloodied meat cleaver.

By the time the cleaver split the air an inch from her face, Remi's words registered. She'd been supposed to wait? Whoops.

"Sorry, I thought you'd screamed, man!" she grunted, narrowly dodging another swing from the enthralled woman's blade. After a few feints, a seemingly effortless slice opened a bright red smile across her adversary's neck. Strangely, that's when Nix noticed the name tag displayed proudly on her left breast: Donna. Nix watched as the waitresses' bewilderment shifted to indignant rage. Donna tried to shriek her fury, but the Shadow's strike had bitten too deep, and all that came out was a wet gurgle followed by a few more spurts of blood. As if in slow motion, Donna dropped the cleaver and sank to her knees, the light draining out of her gray-green eyes.

"Thrall down," she announced over the channel, albeit sheepishly. The rogue was another story.

[Velveteen]

As soon as the word rogue was mentioned an earpiece appeared from her pocket and was set in place just in time to catch the crackling, disembodied voice, that she recognised immediately, announce their arrival. Instinctually, Velveteen stepped further into the shadows and pressed her back to the wall. Her gun was drawn. With practiced speed the clip was released, checked and locked back into place. A silencer appeared from one of her pockets and was attached to the short muzzle right before the safety was flicked off. She was ready to go.

She couldn’t quite see Aksel but nor was she really looking, her attention remaining on the woman inside which she assumed to be the target, though she was certain he wasn’t too far away. It was also a pretty safe assumption that others were still on their way and as was the norm they would wait and watch until they got here. Her gaze averted to the aging waitress for a moment to affirm Remingtons statement. It was possible but not having been here long enough to find anything seriously off Velveteen figured she could have just been really tired too. But she trusted those around her and they also had the benefit of having been here a little longer. If he said she was enthralled then that was something they would have to watch for. It would, however make their job much easier if she were.

When the shadow appeared she turned to offer him a wicked grin. Hunting was one of the ones she did so enjoy. It was the thrill of the chase that ultimately got her blood racing so to speak. The final send off was just a formality that was only made sweeter with the difficulty of the hunt. The harder they had to work, the more rewarding was the sense of achievement when the task was completed. He likely would have known her thoughts just by the curl of her lips and that sadistic glint in her eye but before any comment could be made his eyes were drawn to the window. A line of sight which she followed.

It was mere seconds later that all hell broke loose and Velveteen was already on the move to the rear of the building. Nix had the front covered and a human would offer no challenge to the fiery redhead. “Take her down.” She said sharply, the tiny microphone that rested along her cheek capturing the order in crystal clear clarity. “Aksel. Out the back now!” If the others were coming she hoped they came soon. While the human body count at present was likely two...it was two too many. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she ran, keeping close to the walls and shadows. It was a good thing that this part of town wasn’t particularly busy at this hour of night but if anyone heard the scream they may come to investigate. They needed to move fast.

Light spilled out on to the slush covered alley from the door and blood began to run down the small step there. It was human. Her gun came up and remained pointed at the door in case the target got the jump on Remi and made a run for it. “Remi. Nix. Report!”

[Aksel]

You won’t succeed. You are a failure.

Worthless.

Dirty.

The taint in you will never wash away. It doesn’t matter how many of them you kill. It doesn’t matter how hard you try. It will never be gone.


The voice in his mind began again. It was feminine. Young. The same voice as always. It had become a part of his normal thought pattern at this point. She had haunted his thoughts all through his living days, and it was only natural that the problem was that much worse when he was brought closer with Death. Nothing he did made her silent these days, so the best he could do was to drown her out with as many thoughts as he could have of his own. Concentration. Focus. Setting his mind onto something, to the point that it was the only thing that existed. It was an art, finding that kind of keen focus, that kind of all-consuming precision, and still to be aware of the world around him, to see the group huddled against the diner begin to move.

As Remington’s frame came into view, he was hardly shaken. He had seen a shadow in action before, and had even learned to manipulate the darkness himself. Though for his own purposes, the only studies he had really put his mind to upon the path of the Shadows was to use them as a weapon, a blade he had no need to carry, that he could never lose or misplace. A tool made from his own concentration and will. His fingers dipped into the pocket of his coat, his hand disappearing inside the layer of leather that fell the length of his body. When it emerged again, a red box in his grasp, he flipped it open and tapped it once against his left wrist. The impact pushed the filter of a cigarette from the small tear in the foil, which he plucked from the box with his lips. The box vanished from his grasp, tucked neatly into his coat again as he withdrew the lighter, his hand cupped about the flame, hiding the flash from view until the tip of the paper shaft glowed in a softly burning ember.

Aksel rarely smoked. He never smoked around Trinity, or his sire. It was usually after an intense session of adrenaline overdose, or to settle his nerves. Something about tonight felt strange. Something felt wrong. He could feel Death, like he was standing there at his shoulder, leaning against the opposite corner of that grimy brick building. Like they were the best of friends, sharing a street in the dark, discussing politics or girls, like he would back home with his old friends. Only here, now, there was no friend. Just that icy weight in the pit of his stomach. He took a long, steady drag from the cigarette and pulled the weapon from over his shoulder. With such a long and unwieldy weapon, he kept the suppressor on the mouth of the barrel rather than in the holster that used to keep the machine pistol he had used in the past. Time was very often of the essence in these situations.

He checked the ejection port, certain that it was free of a jam, and flipped the safety off. The newly acquired weapon, given to him by the very redhead that had first joined Remington’s shadowy figure on the sidewalk, was a force to be reckoned with. Particularly in his hands. The ash at the tip of his cigarette had grown long. Longer than what was left of the untouched tobacco. It fell away on a breath as the diner erupted into action.

As Phoenix leaped into the fray without a second thought, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder with the barrel’s mouth tipped to the pavement. Velveteen’s voice filled his headset as she sprinted around the corner of the small building, disappearing from his field of vision. “Vis tidspunkt.” he spoke quietly, not really sure if his voice met the volume requirement for his headset as the cigarette fell from his lips. He crushed the smoldering shaft beneath his boot when he passed. Chambering the first round into his rifle with a sharp click, he moved at a steady pace to the side of the diner.

He heard Phoenix’s voice over the headset, announcing her victory. Seems he had been right. Death had stopped by their little corner of Harper Rock. He shook his head, taking up his position against the far side of the street. From his vantage he could see down the back alley where Velveteen and Remington covered the back door, and he could also see a good portion of the street that ran parallel to the diner’s front window, as well as the street corner that he had just vacated. The advantage of a rifle was that, with such a lengthy barrel and a high-velocity round, the accuracy and effective range of his weapon now far exceeded that of his previous one. If the rogue stepped into his line of sight, she wouldn’t survive there for long, and with the spot he had chosen for himself, that line of vision covered both exits and multiple routes that she could flee to.

He almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

[Remington Rothfelder]

He waited.

That alone spoke volumes, because he had never been very good at taking orders. He’d never really respected his father growing up, which had made the man’s advice essentially pointless to him. He had always gone against the grain, had trouble with authority. But he never felt that way with his sire, nor with Tytonidae. Maybe because the woman had told him going into the faction that if he wanted to make it, he couldn’t care about what other people thought or felt, and that was something Remington understood well. He was many things, but a people pleaser, he was not.

The mere thought of that took him back to days when two officers had been forced to restrain him while he spat on a third, or how he had beat the **** out of someone for picking on a friend. He wasn’t particularly good, nor bad – his quintessence fell somewhere in that vast gray wasteland between those two points.

Raw, and dangerous.

When the order was barked through the earpiece, he was through the door like the chilling winter wind. What he was greeted with was a half dozen or more of the rogue. What trickery was this? Probably some sort of vampiric magic he’d yet to encounter. A snarl twisted masculine features into something a little more beastly than they had been a moment before. The rogues’ guns were all drawn and pointed. He didn’t have much time to make a choice, so he lunged towards one, darting inside her external range of motion so she could not easily draw the gun back and pull the trigger. His blade slammed through the illusion with enough force that had he not stopped it before it finished its descent; it would have sliced into the floor.

A gunshot rang out and he felt it immediately, a sharp and painful, skidding right across his chest before the bullet lodged into the wall on his other side. It only took a second after that to guess the trajectory of the bullet and whirl on the target. As if she realized she had been discovered, the illusions disappeared and she dropped her gun. The woman’s eyes were wide and they told a story. It was so addictive, the power that a vampire had, but how could one be truly special in a society where everyone had magic or brains or superstrength? Maybe she had decided it would be better to just be a bigshot amongst humans; act like some sort of goddess. Spotted using powers – that had been what CrowNet had said hadn’t it?

He could see it in her. She was normally a haughty creature. But when it came time to pay for her crimes against her own kind, she was as weak and overwhelmed as any of the mortals she had attempted to control. Remington would never know for sure exactly the role she had played for herself or what had gone on in her head to lead to her downfall, because it wasn’t his job to ask questions. It was his job to kill. That’s what Tytonidae were, predators of the night, the nocturnal reapers.

So as she ran from him, he outpaced her in a few steps, and swung his sword. The blade sliced cleanly through flesh and bone as if they were the same. An arm fell, but before it hit the ground, it was ash. She stumbled through the door outside to be finished off by Velveteen and Aksel. “She’s coming your way.” He called out. Nix had said she’d gotten the thrall, which meant she had the front of the diner. He assumed based on past experience that the other two members of their little crew had moved to cover the exit. Efficient, that was how they worked.

[Phoenix]

Time was a strangely fluid thing in these moments of the hunt, simultaneously running faster and far slower than a typical, boring night. Donna finished her slow slump to the floor, that feeble human heart managing a final beat strong enough to spatter Phoenix's black boots with gore. A flick of honey brown eyes told the Shadow all she needed to know: the gaping ruin that used to be her neck was no longer truly bleeding, but leaking vitae solely by the grace of gravity. Life, especially human life, was such a fragile thing.

She could hear the commotion behind the wall of appliances, but she couldn't see anything. 'Who the **** designed this kitchen?' was the first thought that sprung to mind, though a scolding 'Who the **** cares? Get the *****' was sharp on its heels. If thoughts had heels. As the gunshot rang out from somewhere in the mess of the diner kitchen behind her, she remembered Vel's request for a report. The words had been uttered only moments before, but in the strange slipstream of time, it felt like hours.

"The thrall is dead," she repeated, this time with more confidence. "I'm fine; target did not leave by the front door." The last bit was added for clarity.

Stepping over the waitresses' corpse, she followed the pseudo maze of the kitchen back to join Remi. There'd already been a gunshot - if one alerted the police, multiple wouldn't change things. Wiping the thrall's blood on the leg of her jeans, she stuffed the curved blade into its sheath and quickly replaced it by one of her custom handguns. The gun wasn't nearly as good as her Fury, but was far more suitable to close quarters combat than a rifle.

Rounding the corner to the little antechamber that seemed to serve as the diner's storage room, the first thing Nix spotted - aside from noting Remi was alive, with all limbs intact - was the little pile of ash on the floor. Assuming she'd run, the debris could only mean she was down an arm. Good luck running without two whole legs.

Bolting to the back door that lay partially ajar, she stepped out into the alley. The silhouette fleeing down the alley could only be that of the target, what with its lopsided gait. Running with only one arm to swing looked strange, especially for the newly severed. Nix only took a second to aim before squeezing the trigger. The rogue stumbled, though whether she'd been hit or startled by the blast, the redhead was unsure. Instead of leaving it to chance, she squeezed off another pair of rounds. The third shot sent a spatter of ashy blood spinning through the night air from somewhere near the woman's elbow - the one that remained. Satisfied with the shot and confident that her fellow faction members would complete the job, Nix turned to Remington.

"Nice job with the arm. You alright?"