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Spade had just left the building of the apartment he and Every shared together. It was originally the place he hid from the city, but eventually it turned into his home whether he liked it or not. Anger was boiling in his blood and the ice cold gaze he had shared the same expression. If it weren't for the hood covering his face, every camera in the building would have picked up on the homicidal rage that was growing stronger by the second. The events that lead up to this moment were being played back in his mind, like a movie or song stuck in his head. In any situation not one person is to blame for drama, there are two sides to every story. But this story, he didn't care about anymore. He'd never done anything to any of the people who surrounded him, so why they worked so hard to hurt him was beyond the reach his thoughts could get to. All he could think? Someone's going to pay.

He took a stroll through the Westwall area, as usual, and spotted three gangsters who were bragging about mugging an old lady. They took pride in making her suffer and beg for her life. It made his stomach turn in disgust. This is what we're hiding from? These petty humans? He put on the darkest smile and approached these gangsters. In the process of doing so, one of the three got big with him, acting as if it was a genuine honor to walk these streets. "ay, whatchu need homie? I got you." the one gangster spoke, showing Spade the bags of meth. As he reached into his pocket, the two other humans pulled guns on him. Very slowly, the blunt in his hoodie pocket was brought to light. "Keep it calm, boys. Just offering a smoke. ...Got anywhere we can go that's more ...secluded?"

Without another word, the four of them began walking in the direction of an abandoned home. It must have been left this way since the earthquake that rocked the city. As soon as the group had entered the living room of the house, Spade closed the doors to eliminate any extra light, and locked it. This is where he let the rage set in, and he walked to the group of gangsters. Using the butt of his pistol, he knocked one out by hitting him in the back of the head. The other two were stuck up at gun point. "Whoa, whoa! Here, take the chains, money! Take it all!" they were begging. It made him sick. These men were gangsters? Using the butt of his pistol once more, he knocked the one begging for his life out, then the barrel of the gun crashed into the last one standing. His temple would for sure have a dent if he survived this night. But he won't.

As the three laid there unconscious, Spade had exited the building to take a calm walk to the store. He felt an eerie numbness. He knew the rage in him was growing and growing, this probably wasn't a great idea. But it soothed him as he thought about it. Coming across a shop, Spade entered and bought enough rope to tie them all together. He then purchased a pack of socks. If they were going to die, they'd do so silently. But then something else caught his eyes. A gas can. Now that could make all of this worth it. "You got gasoline for that?" he asked the shop owner. As he left the building, a gas can full of fluid and a bag of wire and socks. His night was on the way. As he began walking back to the building he left them in, he sang the hook to Hail Mary by Tupac. He never wanted to forget this night.

Upon his return, he entered the building and immediately went to work, tying the gangsters hands and legs together, then tying them all together so they couldn't move. As he began pouring the gasoline on the three of them, they all woke up. And this time, they got tough. "You better hope we don't find you, son! PRAY! CAUSE WE GON FUCKIN SLAUGHTER YOU!" At the end of the threat, Spade knelt down and stuffed a sock in his mouth. The other two started their fits as well so he stuck socks in their mouths as well. He stayed there, watching them with a grin. "You three will have your chance to tell your side of the story." he muttered before standing. "If God feels like listening." he finished his statement before drawing a trail of gasoline to the sidewalk.

He returned into the house, the three gangsters struggling to get free. He set the half filled can next to the group of people. "When the fire hits this, the three of you will probably explode. Death will be painful. And you will suffer." he explained to them before shaking his head. "I hope that old lady was worth all of this." he spoke, hearing the three scream through their gags, as if it mattered. He left the building and walked to the end of the trail. After sparking his blunt, and blowing on the end to make the cherry stronger, he lit a dollar bill on fire and set it on the trail. Instantly, the trail began to lead a flame to the inside of the house. And within moments, those tough guy gangsters were screaming in agony.

He stood at the scene of the crime, smoking his blunt as his cold gaze just stared at the flames engulfing the bottom floor of the house. Those gangsters were not only suffering but the smell of human flesh had finally touched the air. He checked his watch. "Gas can should've exploded by now..." he whispered with the blunt in his mouth. "Hmm.." and then after he took one step towards the burning house, that explosion sent glass shards flying through the air. Some even sliced at Spade's cheek and arm, but not enough to cause serious wounds. "There we go." he spoke with a smile. Suddenly, that anger that drove him this mad was lifted. For a short while. The screams eventually stopped, but he refused to leave this spot. He wanted to watch this house burn to the ground.

Nikolae Dragomir was a man of many parts - a ruthless killer when the need arose, a fiercely protective sire with a heart at once both cold as stone and warm as a dragons fire, and a relative elusive enigma, to name a few. Just so, he was a man of few words. It wasn't really that he enjoyed silence - though he far preferred it to the never-ending drama-fed spats that seemed to plague the city - but rather that he felt words should be spoken only when they had a meaning. And the Dragon always spoke exactly what he thought, exactly when he thought it. He feared no one in this town, and he was certain that he never really had. Though his skin prickled now and then with a wariness that said his sire, the long-missing Chad Worthington the bloody Third, had woken. He hadn't yet run into the vagabond creature, though if he did he idly considered what he might say to the man. He'd long since accepted the fact that when it came to vampirism, Nikolae was the senior and Chad was the junior. Maybe the Dragon would teach the man who, for all intents and purposes remained a fledgling, a thing or two.

He ducked beneath a low-hanging tree branch, rapping his knuckles on the thick wood of the things trunk as he passed. He'd had a decent enough night, a passing conversation with his first-borne before he'd slipped into shadows to trail after his eldest daughter-childe. The wraith of a Necromancer who forever entranced him; the girl would always have him wrapped around her smallest finger. Once certain the half-mad Skuld hadn't gotten herself noticed by any humans, he'd taken a farther trip to seek out his youngest girl-childe. For a moment he'd nearly made his presence known, but sensing Dierdre's seeming need to make a mark on this world of her own, he'd stayed back and simply smirked with a sires pride as she expertly took her meal and left the grinning male to stumble back on his way. The girl was a progeny of vampirism, but then most of the Dragon blood seemed to come into immortality as though they'd been born and simply waiting for him to find them.

Not that being borne into immortality at his vein, or the vein of his dragons, was strictly a necessary thing. He'd met more than a few vampires he'd known instinctively ought to have been taken by his fangs while human. To those, he'd welcome into the Dragomir lineage as though the accident of their rebirth were merely a nuisance easily ignored. It was with that thought in mind that he found himself reaching into his pocket to tap at his phone. He was half-tempted to reach out to Niklaus with a burgeoning idea for a change in the wretched town they were forced to call home. He was startled from the thought by the sound of a loud explosion, and his gold slitted-eyes immediately caught the sight of a raging fire.

Curious, the Dragomir darted toward the explosion, hoping it wouldn't attract too much unwanted attention. Soon enough he was standing feet away from another vampire, this one standing casually by even as the muffled screams of pain came from the burning building. The burnt trail of grass leading from the mans feet right to that massive fire spoke volumes. He stayed still, and silent, hidden in his favored shadows for long minutes before finally striding forward to stand at the youths side. While the man appeared more than fully grown, as a human, it seemed clear he wasn't long a member of the vampire race.

"What did that building do to you?" He queried softly, tilting his head even as he tucked his hands right into his jacket pockets. It was winter in Canada, and even a vampire wasn't impervious to the weather. His lips twitched with an odd sort of amusement. "Have you got a light?" He added with a neutral tone. He didn't smoke - what was the point - but couldn't quite resist the tease.

Spade's head tilted in the direction of Nikolae's footsteps as soon as the elder vampire wanted to be heard. For the few moments the two stood beside one another in silence, he took a few more puffs from his blunt and just continued watching the flames. The dying screams of the humans inside the burning buildings brought peace to the pulsing urge that lead him to do this. What did the building do to you? was heard in a bit of a distant whisper as the crackling of the burning abandoned home had taken to him. He admired how the screams of agony had slowly died down as the last muffled breaths were taken by the gangsters. Large clouds of thick smoke were exhaled as he turned his head to look at the man beside him. "You're vampire." he spoke lightly. Not loud enough to let anyone else hear him. "I can tell. Something gives the vibe, not sure what." he muttered as his head turned back to face his bonfire.

He did extend his lighter to Nikolae, because he asked if he had one. Curtis Spade is too honest for his own good. He was curious to why anyone would want to come stand beside a man who just set a house on fire. Surely some one was bound to come and try to put it out. And in turn, they would discover the bodies. There was no way to hide this from anyone. Luckily, gangsters have enemies. And they like to send messages to one another. "May I know your name?" he asked, his tone sounding a little rough. The tension in the way he stood could send the vibe that he was not a happy camper. That, and he had a hard time being around other vampires. They tend to make him uncomfortable. The blunt was half way gone, but each time it was raised to his lips more smoke was pulled into his lungs. Luckily, he could feel an effect from the substance within the paper. It just took more than what he was used to as a human.

He wouldn't be the first to introduce himself, just because at this moment this fire was meant to be a personal one. One where he could be alone and let his emotions burn with the souls that suffered. He didn't mind the company which struck him as odd, but normally, he would have just walked away. Though, to break the silence between the two, he explained. "The three in the house were low level gangsters that bragged about mugging and nearly killing an old lady. I don't judge them for gang bangin. I used to do the same. But I followed a code, and women were off limits." and that was all he had to say. After he spoke, he flicked his blunt and turned to face Nikolae. He stared at him for a long moment, inspecting the way the man stood. Checking him for obvious signs of a weapon, or any body language that would tell him he was in danger.

Spade's thought process was usually a one-way street. Is this person a threat? Can I trust them? Do they have the guts to go the limit to do what needs to be done? Will this person tell everyone and their mother what goes on? The intense stare his blue eyes gave was enough to be able to read into it. Though they may have been a little clouded due to rage and marijuana, it wasn't hard to read that he wasn't attempting to be a pain. He was just cautious.

Nikolae was mildly amused when the man extended the lighter to him, maybe the man hadn't caught the joke or maybe he just wasn't in a joking mood. Still, he took it, rolling it in his palm idly as he kept his serpentine gaze on the burning building in front of them. It was a neutral sort of place to watch, despite the chaos it was causing. Soon enough he was sure they'd be hearing the sirens of fire trucks arriving on the scene to put it out before it got out of control. For now, though, he could enjoy the odd bit of warmth that was emanating from the place in the middle of the crappy Canadian winter.

"Nikolae." He paused, slanting a sideways look on the fledgling vampire. Niko had been all but gone from this city until recently, so he doubted this young one would recognize his chosen surname nor what it had once stood for. Still, he couldn't resist. "Nikolae Dragomir, Seneschal of the Worthington lineage." The title wasn't precisely true, not these nights. It implied he was subordinate to a leader, which he most certainly wasn't. But baring the weight of the scattered, mostly crazed lineage wasn't something he wanted to dwell on for the moment. The man was rattling off some explanation for the deaths of the poor souls trapped in the building, answering the question of whether or not the stranger had been aware they were inside when he'd set the place ablaze.

He didn't extend his hand in greeting, Niko had never really been one for handshakes and forced camaraderie. He nodded, though, and kept his posture non-threatening. All the while his eyes and ears were aware of every little thing around them, ensuring no other predators were straying too close. There were other vampires, curious, coming close and then departing without ever stirring the Dragons ire. He didn't bother touching any of the numerous weapons strapped to his body, but he also didn't attempt to hide or lie about the obvious bulges they made of his clothing here and there. His favorite gun was tucked into a sling under his jacket, it's twin snug at his lower back. And his brand new shiny and unbreakable sharp-and-pointy had a visible hilt at his waist. Naturally, there was a backup in his boot. You just never knew when you'd need to slice somebody up.

"Have you got a name, stranger?" He asked right back, not the least bit intimidated by the mans steady gaze, but also not trying to be intimidating himself. His voice was quiet but firm, face so passive his curiosity might not even be a flicker on his features.

Spade had watched the elder vampire with a curious look in his eyes before he took a small step back and pulled his pistol from the pocket which kept it hidden. He rested the barrel against his thigh. The emergency sirens getting closer meant they had very little time left with one another while standing in front of the house ablaze. "I've not been around long enough to know who the Worthington's are." he muttered. He recognized the name, just didn't know anything about them. "My name..." he spoke low. Soon, the barrel of his pistol was raised to be aimed in the direction of Nikolae's face. And with his aim, it was more towards the forehead. His hand was steady, he seemed cool on the outside. But inside, he wanted to pull this trigger until his clip was empty.

"You going to report me to someone? Add me to some hitlist or something?" he asked in a tone that suggested he wasn't in the mood for these kind of games. Left hand balled into a fist, icey blue eyes narrowed. You could see the lights in the distance getting closer as the sirens sang their song, letting everyone know what was going on. Nikolae didn't seem like the type to sell a fledge out. There would literally be no gain for anyone to kill or harm Spade. No bragging rights, no money. No nothing. Had they been humans close to a decade ago in this position, it would be a different story. But right now, Spade was nothing. Once that thought had breached his mind, he finally lowered the pistol and just remained still. "Spade. I'm Spade." he introduced himself.

"How about we pick this conversation up another time. When our faces aren't about to be on the front page." he suggested, motioning to the amount of traffic on the way to their location. The pistol was tucked back into his pocket and he watched the other. "I'll find your email and send my number when this dies down." he muttered, taking just one step closer to Nikolae so his low tone could be heard. "Take the sewers to where ever you go. Humans tend to look for witnesses. They all want the reward. Transits have cameras, and between here and there, humans will be piling up to see what happened." he warned the elder.

After the warning was delivered, he took a single step away from Nikolae, then began walking in the direction of the nearest sewer entrance. As he lifted it and looked down the hole, he smirked then looked back at the elder vampire. This was an interesting night. Usually people who see something like this walk in the other direction. He couldn't help but to nod to the man, then began climbing down the ladder. Leaving the cover on the street, in case Nikolae decided to use the same escape route.