Path of the Vampire forum

Posted: **17 Jan 2016, 23:03**

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

Rion: She was dreaming.

At least, that’s what she hoped as the visions danced around her, their claws outstretched.

She was lost in a never-ending maze and there was no end in sight. Each step only lead her further into the darkness and closer to the taunting laughter of her father. She could hear his contempt as he called out to her, her name twisting violently from his tongue. His hatred for the failure he had created burned against her skin, and there was no escape. She was going to find herself back in his arms, and she was going to bathe in the fire of his blood. Blood that she had spilled. You ******* weakling. You failed me. You will never amount to me!

It drummed against her mind, and she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs had been clutched in the phantom grasp, and she knew that she was going to die here. There was no hope for her. Dropping to her knees, she bowed her head and waited as the shadows descended.

---

“****!”

The explicit was wrenched from her lips as she struggled awake, the pain burning through her shoulder fueling her into action. Sleep still clung to her mind, and as had to push through the cobwebs of her nightmare to find clarity. Already, it was fading into the back of her mind, allowing her to focus first and foremost on the fire that was taking over her arm. Her blood poured down her skin and soaked through her t-shirt, leaving the black cotton to cling to her torso in a warm, sticky mess. With a sharp growl, she managed to bring the room into focus - but it was far too late. Whoever it was had disappeared, leaving only the scent of gunpowder and cheap cologne in his wake. “******* asshole, who the **** does that?” Pushing herself upright, she turned towards her where her husband was sleeping at her side and gave him a rough shove off the couch. She didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he fell to the floor, his grunt the only signal that he was waking.

“You just let someone ******* shoot me? What the **** is wrong with you?!”

Osiris:Shaking his head, he rubbed the heel of his palm against his eye. He looked up at her from the floor, clearing the cobwebs from his head as he looked around the room. The acrid, acidic scent of gunpowder burned his nose, mingled tightly with the sharp, metallic scent of blood. The sweet, luscious scent of blood. He grimaced, when he realized that blood was probably not something he should be smelling here.

He worked himself awake, assessing the situation as he slowly lifted himself from the floor. He frowned, then. “Duckie, I honestly cannot stress enough that I was completely asleep. I would have thought that anywhere, this place would have been safe. What happened? Where did they get you?” He turned a dark, onyx orb on the woman and looked her over and spying her wounded shoulder. “How bad is it?” He frowned, hand moving to push her own touch away from the wounded joint. “It looks like it went right through. No major damage to the ligament… you’ll be sore for a while, and I doubt you’ll be moving like you used to…” He shook his head and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Duckie. I thought you were safe.”

Rion: With a quiet scoff, she pushed his hand away and turned her back to him, her movements stiff. “Who the **** are you to tell me if there was major damage or not?” Her voice was sharp as she grabbed for her bag, though the pain that shot through her arm brought her up short. Deciding to just abandon the ******* thing, she concentrated on their apartment and took off. Tossing open the door, she left it ajar, knowing he wouldn’t be far behind - and that it would piss him off that she didn’t take precautions. What the **** did it matter when he just let her get shot anyways? Unbuttoning her blouse, she tossed it onto the ground and headed for the bathroom, her fingers pressing to the wound as she cursed him under her breath.

Osiris:Sighing heavily as she darted away, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Somehow, somehow, this was his fault. He resigned himself to his fate and lifted her bag, dropping it into his pack as he lifted it over his shoulder and looked around the quiet hotel. He shrugged the pack square onto his back before he took off after her. He knew where she would be headed, the one place he knew she would feel truly safe. More so than she was here. Later, he quietly slipped into the apartment, pushing the door shut behind him with another quiet sigh, dropping the pack to the floor. “Honey, I’m home!” he said in his cheeriest voice, pulling his watch from his wrist and resting it gently on the kitchen counter.

Rion: “Go choke on a dick, Osiris!” The response was automatic as she twisted the faucet on, drowning out whatever else he had to say as she dropped her hands beneath the spray. The water bled red and she shook her head and heaved a sigh. She ******* hated this ****. She had done nothing to warrant an attack, and yet there she was with a ******* hole in her shoulder. “**** this.” Gripping the edge of the sink, she bowed her head before pushing from it and staring at the bath. She could draw one, sink into it, and forget ******* everything - yet she was far too pissed. It didn’t even click in her mind that she was being unreasonable in her reactions to him.

Osiris:Moving easily through the apartment to the bedroom, he flicked his fingers through his hair. Dark strands fell lazily across his face as he shook his head, eyes closed as he navigated the apartment by memory until he found the empty bed. Falling to sit in the soft, forgiving mattress, he pushed his hand into the nightstand drawer to find his stashed pistol there. This place really was safe. He heard her answer and he laughed. “Oh, but honey and cupcakes are so much more to my liking. I think I’ll have one of those instead.” he chuckled and leaned his back against the headboard as he moved his eyes to the hardwood floor to count the joints between the slats. Even in so foul a mood, she was amusing. He could understand her fury, though. He wasn’t pleased with the attack either, right in the middle of their family. It was… disturbing.

Rion: Growling between clenched teeth, the necromancer pushed from the sink and headed for the bedroom, her boots sinking quietly into the carpet. “You’re not ******* funny, asshole,” she snapped as she shoved her hands through her hair, sending the blue curls into dissray. Instead of joining him on the bed, she headed for the window and tugged the blackout curtains open, her fingers deftly checking every lock, crack and crevice. Once she was sure that was secure, she headed for the front door and began to pile chairs in front of it until she was satisfied. By the time she was finished, her shoulder was throbbing and her anger had subsided somewhat. After a few seconds, she finally collapsed at his side and reached for the remote to turn on the SyFy channel. “I can’t believe you didn’t do a damned thing to protect me. I thought you were supposed to be my ******* husband,” she whispered, her blue eyes glued to the screen as she dipped her hand into the blood trickling from her shoulder.

Posted: **17 Jan 2016, 23:05**

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
Osiris:Shaking his head as he leaned against her, arm sliding around her shoulders and taking care to be gentle with her injury, he took a quiet breath. “Rion. Duckie. I was asleep. Just like you were asleep. Did you hear him coming? No more than I did, no. If I could have done something, don’t you think that I would have?” he turned his eyes to her, then, and studied her face. “You’re the only thing I have left worth protecting.” he shook his head and turned his eyes to the television. SyFy, he could enjoy. He shifted gently against her side, careful not to jostle her as he pat the night stand at his side. “Here, I have my gun with me when I sleep. Out there, I’m more like to shoot someone I shouldn’t than someone that I should. Especially if I’m going to have to start firing in my sleep.” He gave her a small smile and kissed her cheek. “Maybe I will get us a dog. A big dog. The kind that keeps this sort of trouble away.”

Rion:
Slamming her elbow into his stomach, she pulled from him and reached for the remote again, the plastic heavy in her hand. “Whatever, it’s just ******* excuses,” she snapped, her voice dark. Her arguments were wearing thin, and she knew that she was pushing the line with him. “It’s over, it’s done. I clearly did something to piss those fucks off, or someone sent them after me.” Shrugging her unwounded shoulder, she turned the show up and tossed the remote before closing her eyes. “Do whatever you want, as long as it’s trained to leave Salem alone, though I’m sure the fatass would just eat him,” she managed a dark chuckle then as her body slowly began to relax, the twisted claws in her mind relinquishing their hold one at a time.

Osiris:Turning his head at her chuckle, he placed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “That he just might. Maybe I could just train Salem to eat hunters instead of getting the dog.” He gave her a smile, his hand resting on her bare abdomen, then. “I doubt that anyone would go so far as to go to that kind of measure to get rid of you. Maybe it was something from a long time ago? This crowd tends to hold a grudge.” He shrugged as he tenderly traced his fingertip along her stomach. He rested his chin on her good shoulder, watching her show with her as he remained close at her side, in spite of her thrashing. He could feel her relaxing, and he knew that the wave was almost at an end. It was a mild one for her, milder than he had expected, and he was thankful. His fingers brushed along her skin as he lifted them from her stomach to gingerly pass through her curls, stroking her hair. “Whatever it is, we will take care of it.”

Rion: “You’re not training my cat to do your job, Osiris,” she snapped, her voice gaining that edge to it again before she shook her head. Arching her back, she stretched her body out as far as her small frame would allow, which wasn’t much. She barely took up a corner of the bed, and she gave a frown as she pressed her hand to her shoulder. The ache was a constant reminder that someone had found her, and the soothing touch that he was brushing along her skin barely caused a reaction.

She couldn’t get past the thought that someone had hurt her and he had just… stood there.

She had witnessed a more volatile reaction from him when the delivery driver had smiled at her. Yet, she gets shot and… nothing. Absolutely ******* nothing. ****, I’m turning into my mother. Rubbing at her eyes, she rested back against the pillows and crossed her feet at the ankles, fingers splaying across the rippling muscles of his abdomen. “Yeah, sure. Maybe next time they should put a bullet through my head. At least then I wouldn’t have to be conscious for this ********.”

Osiris:He smiled then. A serene sort of smile as he lifted his hand and gently pat her cheek. He slipped from the bed, then, and stepped into his boots. Inside of a minute, he was swinging his leather jacket over his shoulders and glancing at her over his shoulder. “I’m headed to the store, just remembered we need food for the cat. You need anything?” He flipped the collar of his jacket, rolling it back down as he picked up his pistol, sliding it into the hip of his gun belt. His sword rested across his back, a bright polished gleam to the lacquered wooden scabbard, the black paint inlaid with blue lapis, the only splash of color to his otherwise black garb.

Normal people would think the weaponry unnecessary, that he would draw attention to himself toting around a sword in the middle of the night. In this town, though, a lone man carrying around a sheathed blade is hardly cause for concern. So many goings on, the people here carried all manner of weaponry in the name of self-defense. It made him chuckle, just thinking about how utterly frustrated any kind of law enforcement might be in a town like this one. “I won’t be long, Duckie. Think you can manage to keep the new holes to a minimum while I’m out?”

Rion: If there was one thing that she learned to be wary of, it was that smile. It made her uneasy in ways that her sire’s wrath couldn’t, and she found herself narrowing her eyes. “Who the **** goes out and gets cat food in the middle of the night?” Her tone dripped with accusations as she moved to sit upright, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. Her eyes never missed a beat as he swung his jacket on, so she didn’t miss as he casually slipped an extra magazine into the front pocket of his jeans. Suppressing the urge to reach out and pull him back to bed, she dug her nails into her bicep and rested her head back. His sarcastic statement earned him a sneer, her eyes icing quickly as she moved to grip the remote in her hand. “Yeah, I’m sure I can manage,” she drawled, her Southern accent thickening with her disdain. “****, I’m probably safer without you here. At least I could find some real cover then.”

Dismissing him after that, she turned her gaze back to the television, though whatever was playing didn’t register in her mind. She was already four steps ahead in her mind, following him out the door and stalking him in the night. If he thought he would get away with doing something ******* stupid, he had another thing coming. She wasn’t about to let his sorry *** out of her sight. ******* hell, why did I decide that getting married again was a good thing? She didn’t say another word as he stood at the door, and she knew that he was torn. Something inside of him always seemed to make him want to stay at her side - but obviously, whatever was calling him out in the middle of the night was far more pressing than her.

Entertaining herself with channel surfing, she forced herself to wait until she heard the hotel door click shut. It took all of her willpower to remain still, the tension in her muscles causing her shoulder to ache something awful. Despite the paranoia running rampant in her mind, she knew that she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. If he was going to get himself killed, she would be there to back him up - before she put a bullet in him herself.

******* idiot, what are you getting into?

Posted: **21 Jan 2016, 00:39**

We will face the odds against us
And run into the fear we run from

It has begun.

He couldn’t be sure, but he was almost certain that she would follow him. It just wasn’t in her to leave him to his own devices. He could give her the slip, sure. It was as easy as a thought, vanishing from existence. He could melt into the shadows, all but ceasing to be. He could become one with darkness itself, nothing, nowhere yet everywhere, a part of everything. It was one of the first things he had learned to do upon waking to this new life of theirs. Donning the darkness had become as natural as sliding into his jacket, and wrapped in that cloak of shadow, he was invisible even among their own kind.

This, though, he had half a mind to let her see. He shoved his fist into a leather glove, bare fingers flexing his fist and causing the leather to creak with the motion. In fact, she should probably see it. He could, after all, see the way she felt in those icy eyes of hers, the way she glowered and simmered with anger. She felt betrayed, and he could see it. She thought he didn’t care that she’d been hurt, that someone had laid their hands on her.

Rion was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met. Her astounding brain was a part of what drew him to her. Her intellect was above and beyond the norm, even for someone in her prior position. She could dance circles around most people on medical theory, could actually practice what she knew better than most.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes, on some subjects, she could be so… ignorant.

She didn’t recognize what she was seeing, that much was abundantly clear. He could not, however, lay the blame solely on her. This time was, even for him, different. Usually, the aggressive compulsion to tear into anything close to her, to anyone he cared for, manifested in an uncontrollable tremor of rage. He was almost never able to stop the shaking, until he removed himself from the situation, or removed the situation itself. The latter was far more satisfying.

Tonight, though, the fury in him burned cold. Ice cold. He felt like a hunk of hard ice had rested in the pit of his stomach, heavy, hard, and frozen. The usual rage, the tremors and the unstoppable force that pushed him into a bloody firestorm of wrath was much more tonight. The overwhelming force was, this time, more of an insatiable will. He could feel it inside of himself, insistent but patient. He knew that he wouldn’t see dawn without doing this. With her final dismissal, he shrugged, and shouldered past the hotel door, out into the lobby.

The place was nice. Clean, modern, and close to the station; all the amenities he really needed. The crisp, white walls were a stark smack in the face after the icy black nights in town, the warmth a welcome change to the frigid air of the streets. His hands pushed into the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a pack of cigarettes with the logo and brand names worn down to nothing, only the white paperboard beneath visible. He kept the same pack, replacing the cigarettes. It was an old habit, and an old pack. He flicked one filter free, pulling it between his lips and tugging it free of the worn old pack. He flipped the box shut, shoving it back into his pocket and producing, instead, a cheap black Bic lighter.

He rarely carried his favorite lighter with him when he planned on being… active.

He inhaled, pausing in his step for just a brief moment to feel the smoke slowly spread through him, its grey, hazy tendrils of vaporized nicotine and tobacco slowly twining their way through his lungs, gripping them in a lethal embrace that could only make him sigh, exhaling the smoke through his nose and mouth both. Without another thought, he pushed open the hotel door, stepping into the frozen night and flicking the half-used cigarette shaft into the street. The transit was a short walk from the hotel, the bright fluorescents never taking a night off. The other direction, however, was his goal.

Several blocks down the main road, dead in the center of the street, a broad and heavy manhole cover sat astraddle the center line. His heel jammed roughly into the steel rim of the cover, popping it open and flipping it on its edge. He glanced down the street, before stepping into the gaping hole left in the asphalt. His body shot down the shoulder-width hole, landing on his feet without a sound as the cover above him clattered back into place.

This was where they hid. This was where they spent their nights, crawling the sewers in hopes of catching his kind unaware, creeping out from the stinking, dark places only to strike at them while they slept, out in the bright of day when they were all but defenseless. They thought themselves so strong, so big, these hunters. What they truly were, however, was something else entirely.

“Cowards.” He spat, moving into the darkness. He could feel the shadows slipping over him as he stepped away from the small pinholes of light that the manhole cover offered. That single spread of tiny shafts of light disappeared around the first bend, drowning him in complete darkness. They may have the upper hand during the day, but this was his realm. The darkness was where his power was at its peak. Inside, he could feel that cold fury weighing on him, pulling him onward. He knew what he had to do.

The first pair he came upon were hardly a challenge. Two men stood in the shadow of an offshoot drainage, their conversation loud and deliberate. A flick of the blade, a sharp whistle of steel against the air and both heads rolled from their shoulders in a single stroke. He smirked at the blade, running an oilcloth along its length to wipe the blood from the steel before pushing it back into the sheath. Leaning down, he put a boot on the cheek of the first man’s severed head. He looked into the dead eyes and waited to see something; anything. The man’s face looked like he was still mid-conversation. He hadn’t even seen his own death coming.

This, however, wasn’t him. He wasn’t even entirely sure it was a him he was looking for. It didn’t matter. He was going to spend the entire night, every last second, until just before dawn, slaughtering every living thing he saw in these tunnels. He was going to slaughter each of the hunters unfortunate to cross his path, until his arm was ready to fall from his shoulder. When it did, he would pick up his sword with his left hand, and move on to the next hunter, and then the next, and the next.

The water beneath Harper Rock was going to run red tonight.

Posted: **21 Jan 2016, 04:16**

“****.”

The single word followed the sound of the door shutting, and she ran a hand down her face. The tension only intensified within her, and she felt as if she were a second away from clawing her skin from the bone. He was the most infuriating man that she had ever met, and yet it appealed to her. It was if she found comfort in the new ways he found to torture her, his need to drive her utterly insane the very thing that kept her content. She had sworn to herself when she had walked away from Abraham that she would never put herself at the mercy of another man, but that had been before her life had changed. When Micah had brought him home, her first thought had been to compare him to a stray dog - a thought that only solidified the longer she spent time with him. However, between fighting the urge to rip out his heart and throw him against the wall and kiss him, she had fallen into the same trap that her ex-husband had laid out for her. How stupid am I?

Shaking her head, she kicked the sheets from around her legs, the black satin flowing easily to the floor. In a matter of seconds, Salem made his way from beneath the bed, his gigantic form curling into the pool of onyx with a satisfied purr. “Yeah, like you need any more food,” she muttered as she watched him roll his head lazily at the sound of her voice, his unique amber eyes filled with disdain. “Yeah, **** you too, buddy.” Her tone dismissed him at the same time he stretched out, his head falling to the carpeted floor with a sigh that shook his entire form. Their relationship was the only one she understood - as long as she kept him fed, he left her alone. He had been the only thing she had admitted to loving until Osiris came along, and turned her world upside down. She hated him for everything he had ever done for her, but she knew that even with the hatred burning through her chest, she loved him even more. He was the only man - the only person - alive to be able to handle her and to accept her.

Because he’s a ******* moron.

With another muttered curse, she pushed herself from the bed and headed for the door, her fingers grabbing at the nearest article of clothing she could find. She didn’t pause to make herself presentable, the black button down that smelled faintly of his cologne offering more than enough coverage for her short form. On her way out the door, she picked up her combat boots, the leather weighing easily in her hand as she stepped out into the hallway. He was already gone, the elevator doors closing behind him with a soft groan as the gears began to grind together in preparation for the descent. Taking a moment to pull her boots on, she zipped them up and slid the plastic keycard into the front pocket of his dress shirt, the slight weight enough to cause it to sag. Thankfully, she had born with generous assets, and they worked in her favor to keep the thin cloth in place as she ran down the hall, the heavy thud of her boots echoing off the stark walls.

By the time she made it to the elevator, it had already began its ascent, the doors opening and bringing with it a musty, drafty breeze. Stepping back, she made room for an elderly couple to step off, though she almost wished she hadn’t when the woman turned her shrewd gaze to her. The look in her eyes was enough to make the necromancer chuckle, and she watched as she curled a wrinkly hand around her husband's arm. “May the Lord have Mercy on your whorish soul, child.” The words were spoken in a voice ruined by cigarettes, and she could smell the stale nicotine on her breath as she brushed past her. Her husband, however, was far less judgmental, and the appreciation in his old eyes as he grinned a toothless grin was almost enough to warrant him a swift death. If it hadn’t been for the more pressing matters of chasing down her husband, she would have subdued the couple and tossed them in with Shannon’s decaying remains.

We’d see how the Lord would save you then.
Fighting against her very nature proved to be a challenge as she stepped into the elevator, and she pressed her hand against the cool metal. With a low growl, she curled her fingers into a fist, the sound of her knuckles denting the wall resounding throughout the confined space. By the time the door opened, the left side of the cart had been all but destroyed, the gaping hole revealing the worn cables that dangled loosely along the walls of the shaft. A lone attendant stood outside the elevator, his hand resting against the handle of a room service cart, though he quickly pushed it to the side when he saw the damage. “I think you have a rat problem,” she muttered in passing, her wounded hand concealing the ripped camera wires. As she past the desk, the concierge began to throw a fit, his voice loud and shrill as he started barking commands to the other workers as each television screen that held footage turned black.

At least I’ve gotten better with hiding evidence.

When she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she tossed the cracked pieces of plastic and electrical wire into the nearest sewage drain and tilted her head. She had expected to see him waiting for the transit, though the bench was barren. She knew by the silence that the train wouldn’t run for at least another ten minutes - so that left only one more location. With a resigned sigh, she turned towards the isolated street and headed for the manhole cover, the heavy iron returned firmly to its place. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that this was where he had gone. She couldn’t explain the feeling of certainty that filled her chest, and she didn’t fight it as she kneeled down and peeled the cover back with ease before hooking her feet onto the rusted steps. When she was balanced, she pulled the cover back into place, dusting her hair and face in the reddish brown rust before she leaped into the darkness. Her feet hit the damp cement with a soft thud, and she dusted off her shirt before tilting her head.

Usually the sewer was filled with the scent of filth so strong that it blocked out everything else, but tonight, she caught a faint whiff of Benson & Hedges tobacco and blood. It was a distinct smell, one that she had grown addicted to over the course of their relationship. Following it down a small corridor, she kept her steps slow and quiet as she made out the outline of his body. She knew that there was no use in hiding - he would have sensed her the moment her feet touched the sewer floor - but she didn’t want to distract him. Not yet. She watched the power in his swing as he took down two hunters, and she suppressed a shudder of pleasure. Had she been wrong? The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as she followed him further into the dark, her eyes missing not a single movement. His anger beat at her in a wave so hot and thick that it nearly suffocated her, and she knew in that moment that she had misread the entire situation. He hadn’t just sat idly by while she was mauled, but it wasn’t stopping him from allowing the guilt to eat him alive.

She hated, more than anything, to admit that she had messed up. She knew that he would never expect her to apologize, and the very thought of doing so made her tongue lay heavy in her mouth, but how could she explain this to him? Abraham had never shown her an inkling of kindness. She could have died, and he wouldn’t have batted a lash. The thought that Osiris would have done the same had snapped something inside of her, and she had wanted to lash out and hurt him as badly as she had been. What did that say of her? That you’re just as fucked up as you always knew yourself to be, she thought sourly as she pressed her hand to the wall and trailed her fingers along the grime. It meant nothing to her, the sticky wet beneath her skin. She had had her hands buried in far worse, and the cool offered her a sense of familiarity. Bracing herself for the wrath he was bound to turn on her, she stepped behind him and removed the pistol from his hip, her thumb brushing the safety off. Without a word, she aimed and fired a single bullet into the skull of the hunter sneaking behind them, his blade coming within an inch of severing her leg at the knee.

“Enjoying your temper tantrum, baby?”

Posted: **23 Jan 2016, 11:12**

Tantrum.

Coming from you, that’s just hilarious. Really. Do go on. I’m sure you’re far from tired yet. You can dig that grave a little deeper. There are a lot of bodies I’ll be throwing in there tonight.

Eyes dark as shadow turned on her, wheeling the full power of the rage that churned inside of him. His entire body was like a hurricane, a storm raging inside of his brain, screaming through his mind with a power he couldn’t hope to contain. Every muscle in him quivered with the power that he barely kept in check. The titanic effort it took to keep himself in one place was phenomenal. There was no explanation for where he found that kind of tremendous strength of will. Typically, he was out of control, unable to keep himself in check. Tonight, the flames that burned in him were ice cold. His heart was stone, his fury a frozen grip on him that he couldn’t shake. This was a frigid, calculated rage. In truth, he frightened himself in this state. The out of control, feral power he had grown used to; letting his body take control while his mind took a back seat, letting himself go. This was something else. This was terrifying.

He had known she would come along behind him, had expected it, honestly. How could she have hoped to keep away, when he was stalking into the night with enough power piping through his veins to level the whole city?

That had been his reason for coming to Harper Rock. Why not finish the job? What better reason that revenge? A real reason, something personal. The tremble in his hands told him that he could do it. He knew it, too, if he just let himself go, he could sink the entire city into the sewers. He could destroy the very foundation that the world above rested on. It was an easy thing, sending entire buildings into the earth. It wouldn’t take much, and he was guaranteed to kill the piece of **** if he just killed… everyone. He knew he could do it, but something inside of him kept him in check. Something refused to let him go. Something kept him focused, that rage, that fury, locked into a singular goal. The hunters.

The flicker in those dark coals set deep in his skull was wild, unchecked, untamed. He lifted the blade in his hand, the long, slender steel slicing slowly through the air as he flicked the tip to point into her face, ignoring the stolen pistol. He didn’t say anything, the black tide of his glare washing over the blue, drowning the color in darkness. The power inside of him roared, demanding blood. Not her blood. Never her blood. It bellowed, the command too powerful for him to ignore. He could feel the trembling wracking his entire body, the effort of remaining still too much to maintain. He was an animal, fighting his natural instincts. He couldn’t hope to keep himself here.

He flicked the blade, blood sluicing from the blade in a splat against the wall leaving the steel naked and clean, as virgin as the day it had been forged. He pressed flat of the blade into his palm and let his lips pull into a thin, humorless smirk, the tight smile was almost pained as he watched her. She was always provoking him, always pushing him. Tonight was not the night. What she was wearing, it only flared the black flames, a raging inferno inside of him spreading out of control. He bared his fangs; long, sharp, dangerous. Like a flash, he darted past her, his coat flipping behind him as he moved with a terrifying speed, heavy boots pounding into the brick walk, diving to the side and lifting himself onto the wall.

As he dashed along the vertical space, a hunter came around the corner, investigating the fresh corpse. Osiris’s blade flashed in the darkness, catching the man just north of the nose. The hunter stood frozen for a moment, a thin red line forming around the perimeter of his skull, just along his temple and between his eyes. It was the eyes that went first, oozing slowly before they began to leak down his face. It was the skullcap that came second, sloughing from the top of the man’s head to hit the ground with a splat. The body followed, hitting the ground with a thud as his body joined the first, a small mound of flesh on the cold stones, mangled and already forgotten.

He didn’t stop, still sprinting down the long wall, until he leaped into the next corner, catching a paladin unawares. His teeth sank into her throat, and with a violent snap of his head, he tore the throat so deep that her head rolled from her shoulders with a gout of blood spraying across his face and spraying the wall with a violent red. Coated in crimson, he didn’t stop, still. His boots pounded the bricks as he ran down the off-shoot of the main tunnel, boot planting into one wall and shoving himself across the width of the tunnel, kicking from one side to the next, and again to launch himself around the next corner.

The small connection ran from one off-shoot to the next, the narrow walkway facilitating a small gathering of hunters. They didn’t stand a chance. He kicked himself forward, landing in the center of the four bodies standing in a tight circle. Steel flashed in the darkness and he leaped over the body in his way, dashing to the end of the connection and rounding the corner again. The hunters glanced from one to the next, the hand of one falling to the floor, first. He shouted, and lifted the maimed hand. As his weight shifted with the movement of his arm, his body split about the waist, his torso sliding from his hips to slam into the ground, forcing the air from his lungs in a scream of horror and agony.

All around the sewer, the air was filled with the same sort of screams. Pain. Agony. Fear. It was palpable, touching every corner of the darkness. The scent of blood filled the air, stronger than anything else in the underbelly of the most violent city in North America. It washed through the water, flowing freely through the sewer. The off-shoot he took rounded him back to the same tunnel, a block away from where he had left her standing in the dark. As he exploded into the channel, blood washed before him, another hunter’s screams cut short with the hiss of his blade. The body flew into the wall of the main corridor with a tremendous, bone-crunching snap. The meatbag slumped to the floor as the Shadow flashed through the darkness, finally rounding on her.

He stopped, breathing ragged as he stared down at her, blood dripping from every inch of him. Head to toe, he was coated in crimson, bathed in the gore of his victims. He lifted the hand with his blade, the heel of his palm still clutching the long, curved sword as he pushed it into the socket of his eye, scrubbing away the blood before pulling it away. One eye, cleaned, was surrounded by flesh pale as milk; the other ringed in crimson. Both bored into her with a fiery power of a seething fury.

He turned the sword, pressing the flat of the cool steel against his lips, kissing the bloody blade. Slowly, his tongue trailed along its length, tasting the stolen life as his eyes bored holes into her. With tender care, he pulled the wet length of his tongue from the steel and snapped his fangs in anger. He flicked the blade clean again, and slammed the tip roughly into the bricks, both hands resting on the pommel of its hilt.

“A tantrum, you say? Trust me, Duckie. You don’t have a ******* clue.” His words were ice cold, hard as the look in his eyes. The icy glare told her one thing. If the piece of **** that dared to step close to her was anywhere in this city, he was going to find them. Tonight. And there wasn’t a force on this earth powerful enough to save them from his wrath.

Silence settled over him, the darkness of the vehemence radiating from him became almost palpable, a flicker of his shadow lifting through the air, twisting like flame and fury as he stood there, shoulders rigid as his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade, bone-white and trembling. It took all of his effort to keep himself still, to leave his feet planted in the stones as she stood there with him. He had expected her to come, but he didn’t know if he could keep himself still long enough to keep up with her.

He began to grind his teeth, the enamel crushing itself as he bit down, the force causing his teeth to groan in protest.

Is there anything good left in me?

He smirked at the thought, and shook his head.

Not tonight, there isn’t.

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