Selene
Threat
War was all I had ever known
Posts: 4
|
Post by Selene on Aug 27, 2004 16:54:34 GMT -5
“The war had all but ground to a halt in the blink of an eye. Lucian, the most feared and ruthless leader ever to rule the Lycan clan, had finally been killed. The Lycan horde scattered to the wind in a single evening of flame and retribution. Victory, it seemed, was in our grasp, the very birthright of the vampires. Nearly six centuries had passed since that night, yet the ancient feud proved unwilling to follow Lucian to the grave. Though Lycans were fewer in number, the war itself had become more perilous, for the moon no longer held her sway. Older, more powerful Lycans, were now able to change at will. The weapons had evolved, but our orders remained the same: Hunt them down and kill them off, one by one. A most successful campaign. Perhaps too successful. For those like me, a Death Dealer, this signaled the end of an era. Like the weapons of the previous century, we, too, would become obsolete. Pity, because I lived for it.”<br>
Selene sits on the edge of a railing, watching and waiting for the city to come to life. When the mortals slept, the underworld stirred. She is a strikingly beautiful, steely-eyed vampire warrior; and has devoted the latter part of her life to exterminating Lycans with the other members of her vampire coven, The Death Dealers. It is believed that Lycans slaughtered her family when she was a child. – she alone surviving the horror.. Now her life is devoted to seeking revenge for their death, and ensuring that the Underworld is rid of Lycans. Viktor, one of the three ominous Vampire elders, saved Selene's life. He took Selene under his wing, and by converting her into a vampire personally not only made her immortal, but also made her infinitely stronger then her vampire kin. Selene's passion for truth, albeit laced with vengeance, traps her into a reluctantly violent and tragic purpose.
She packs heavy-silver plated bullets, wolf-killer 9mm handguns and silver-plated razor edged throwing stars hidden beneath her soft demeanor. Her incredible strength is matched only by her emotional independence from her vampire brethren as she chooses to isolate herself from the night socialites. Selene trusts almost no one and suspects the Lycans are rebuilding, putting the vampire coven in extreme danger. She particularly distrusts one of her own named Kraven, a power-hungry self-proclaimed leader who discredits her theory for his own purposes. Selene's extreme intelligence and sharp intuition destine her for greatness although it is likely that will be achieved though a rebellious and dangerous act. Tonight Selene was sitting on a gargoyle that overlooked a dangerous section of the city. Kraven was back with the coven overseeing their plots and plans for the demise of the Lycans; but that hive of debauchery and seduction didn’t interest her. Selene preferred the direct approach, leaving the group to go off on a solo watch of the underworld’s activities.
The heavy leather of her jacket flapped back in the breeze and washed her shoulder length locks into her face. She was indifferent to the wisps of hair that constantly threatened to poke her in the eyes. Those steely eyes spotted her mark for the night; a 1972 Chevy Nova. Selene released her grip on the gargoyles’ shoulder and stood. Leaping from the rooftop she soared like a blade toward the ground. Benevolently she landed in a crouched position on the street and seemingly unaffected stood again and walked. The shiny leather and vinyl outfit shimmered in the streetlamps and reflected against freshly damp puddles. “Tonight will be a night to remember.” She whispered as she strode toward her target. With much flourish Selene trailed the car, not bothering with a vehicle of her own. She simply ran her lungs didn’t matter anymore; the act of breathing was simply a reflex she ceased to unlearn. Selene ran until her target parked, and the Lycan exited the car. He was walking toward the old graveyard maintained by Our Lady of Good Faith. Blue eyes flashed with a light of their own as she drew in a bit of her unholy blood, burning a hint of her power to see beyond mortal sight. She could almost smell the crouched human that was leaning over a gravestone. It was the middle of the night, and this lost soul was in a graveyard. In Selene’s eyes this man, in this brief moment was the epitome of human suffering.
-Selene
|
|
Roderick
Threat
"I absolutely believe in God... and I absolutely hate the fucker."
Posts: 5
|
Post by Roderick on Aug 27, 2004 17:03:32 GMT -5
“They say that most of the brain shuts down when a vampire sleeps; All but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I’m still awake.” Roderick thought as he shifted his weight and got up. He’d been lounging in a rust colored armchair of itchy material exhausted but unable to sleep. He’d watched the sunlight trail a beam though the slit in the closed curtains throughout the course of the day. Other kindred might grow worried or concerned as the beam of light neared his dangling tattooed arm but he didn’t move; Bare millimeters from his undead skin the sunbeam stopped, it’s path for the remaining hours of the day fading back as it sank against the horizon.
Sitting on the dresser was a metallic suitcase, inside the foam cutouts a series of weapons. Into his boot holster Roderick placed a military knife hand plated by his own hand with silver. The blade itself was strong, and the outside bonding made sure it was a useful tool if he got into a scrap with a Lycanthrope. It wasn’t the first of his goals. It was the Brujah he was after. - The Camarilla’s enforcers and the kinsmen to his accursed blood. James pawed into the case again, grabbing the sidearm and the collapsible rifle. He strapped the handgun to his side and the rifle at his back and then grabbed his duster, shoving his arms roughly into the sleeves. Roderick had a few odd contacts, one of which a “knocker”, who was chiefly his mechanic and weapon smith had told him of this city. Word on the street was if he was looking for vampires that the Death Dealers was a good place to start. The six-foot five 190 pound mass of muscle and tattoos moved toward the exit. Once on the street he made his way toward the park, as he wanted to question a Lycan from the bone gnawer tribe he’d seen the previous night.
-Roderick
|
|
Rhona Stephens
Threat
Do you know what it's like to be hunted?
Posts: 5
|
Post by Rhona Stephens on Sept 7, 2004 22:25:32 GMT -5
Nearly half a year had gone by since her life changed. Since she became one of the hunted. Cursed. Nightmares of her first transformation still left her reeling. The pain, agony. Feeling the bones of her body break for the first time growing and expanding to make up the massive form that came with being a Lycanthrope. It hadn’t been a life she’d asked for herself, nor had she wanted. But she couldn’t change fate. It had been partially her fault. If she’d only left on time, if she hadn’t been there when they came after what they were looking for. If she hadn’t snooped and found the lycan that made her stealing medicine.
She’d done what came naturally, she ran. But his speed was far more. Teeth ripped open her flesh and then he threw her aside, crashing into the layered food cart. In the chaos she’d been ignored, forgotten. The Lycan had though the Death Dealers would have taken her out, but it hadn’t been so. The first time she was hunted another came to her rescue. Knowing that her sire had wanted nothing to do with her. She was taken into a pack of rogue Lycans, lead by an Ancient. Grandmother Larissa. Taking in the poor juvenile lycan, as she learned the ways of the hoard. How to survive as a creature of the night. How to kill. How to survive. After all it was as the saying goes “It’s a Dog-eat-dog kind of world.” Those words could have been more true to Rhona. With nothing left in her life, no family, the pack of lycans was the closest thing she had. While still trying to live a normal life on the surface world, as a nurse.
Walking silently besides the woman, who acted as if she were Over a hundred years old, which she was, but looked no older than a fifty year old. Rhona held respect for the female lycan. As she was coming to learn there weren’t too many female lycans around, the majority were male. But some wanted families, it only made sense to have lycan women. That gave birth to purebred Lycans. “Are you sure about this?” breath finally fell from her lips as soft golden eyes scanned the darkness of the park. “Don’t worry my child. I have age, wisdom and beauty on my side.” The woman smiled as she patted the bare forearm of Rhona. Still she had her doubts, from what she heard he was a Vampire, a kindred. Vampires hunted those like her, and those who were now her kin. Chocolate tresses of hair fell against her shoulders. Central park. Such and open dark area. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had others with him. Then again it wouldn’t have surprised her if other lycans had followed to watch and protect the hoards Grandmother. Silently they sat together on a park bench. Rhona wouldn’t agree to let the woman go alone. Though she was still trying to learn their ways, the self-defense classes she’d taken in college were paying off. With a weapon concealed, a vile of pure garlic hanging around her neck, she only hoped she’d have the courage to attack if it came down to it...
|
|
Roderick
Threat
"I absolutely believe in God... and I absolutely hate the fucker."
Posts: 5
|
Post by Roderick on Nov 8, 2004 18:28:19 GMT -5
He’d been waiting over an hour and was rapidly losing his patience. Was his petition to the Lycan’s denied? He would have figured with the recommendation from Knocker that he was a shoe-in to at least be heard, but now…. He wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t denying the truth that he was a Vampire, a Brujah at that, but based on the underground reputation he’d been carving for himself it was a wonder it hadn’t reached Grandmother Larissa’s ears. “…Never thought I’d see the day that the words of a Knocker stopped counting for something.” He complained to himself.
Just then he heard the crunch of dry leaves underfoot. Immediately he glanced up from the bench upon which he was lounged, cold unfeeling eyes counted the revealed, yet hidden figures of the Werewolf who moved to surround him. It was like the cold war between the US and the former Soviet Union. If anyone made a foul move it would all go to hell. “Are you sure about this?” “Don’t worry my child. I have age, wisdom and beauty on my side.” He pushed to stand, walking to the couple. Bowing in reverence to the elder woman, the Brujah withdrew his blade and offered a sign of his devotion to her. Slicing his forearm he allowed blood to fall to the pavement before he replaced the knife and spoke again. “I’m honored you would make audience with me Grandmother.” He said with a graveled tenor.
|
|
Rhona Stephens
Threat
Do you know what it's like to be hunted?
Posts: 5
|
Post by Rhona Stephens on Dec 30, 2004 23:37:41 GMT -5
It seemed like forever, an eternity passing by. The chill of the night air. Warm clouds of breath rose before her in the sky. Hand patted the elderly Lycan besides her. She didn’t want to leave her. Enhanced senses could hear others around, her kin, members of the hoard. It was growing late and they were in the open sitting targets should an attack come. Lips parted with a sigh as she turned to say something more to grandmother. That’s when from the darkness a frame came into view.
Rhona gasped. True she’d encountered Vampires before, but none like the one before her now. Heart raced against her chest as his massive stature overwhelmed her, she felt nearly dwarfed in comparison. Hazel eyes looked over him. Large hands and strong arms, in normal state Rhona could only imagine how easily he could have snapped her neck, or the power at which he could have killed with. Hand squeezed Larissa as the Lycan Grandmother moved. In turn giving her a reassuring smile Nose wrinkled to the smell of his blood. Sweet yet distinct. Tainted with living death.
Silently she could only watch as Grandmother Larissa stood inspecting him. Circling around him with movements of an elderly human woman, and also that of a nights predator. “Yes, yes, my boy.”<br>Her hand moved barely able to grasp the vampires defined face, turning it side to side before releasing him with a nod. Once more Larissa took her place besides Rhona and motioned to him. “Come my child, sit and speak boy, as to why you’ve requested such an audience. Though I myself have a request, if I might be so bold.”<br>
|
|
Selene
Threat
War was all I had ever known
Posts: 4
|
Post by Selene on Jan 4, 2005 0:49:10 GMT -5
With her eyes set to her target, Selene watched the Lycan and intently, all the while oblivious to the fact that she herself, was being stalked. At the sound of the voice her head turned back and she saw the woman. It didn’t matter that the woman was obscured by shadows, enrobed by the night; the smell of this woman (at least to Selene) was like a thumbprint. She was a guardian, a vampire slayer, and most of all, her friend. Lifting her fingertip to her full lips, the vampire gave the barest hint of smirk, “Shh.” With indifference she turned back around and in two steps the determined footfalls from her knee high boots aided her jump. She vaulted the fence effortlessly, her feet landing into the soft muddy earth.
The Lycan was almost ten yards from the target. Her feet slipperered against the earth disturbingly soundless yet profoundly fast… Selene leapt into the air and traversed across mausoleum rooftops and then top-edges of gravestones zig-zagging her path of interjection. She threw out two of her silver throwing stars, smirking as they ‘chunked’ into the torso of the brute. The aggravated damage from the silvered weapons burned at the flesh of the Lycan and he clawed at the weapons to remove them from his body. She snarled, glad that the creature was in pain. Her head cracked to the side as the Lycan slashed out to take off half her face, and in a flash of movement, pivoted back to the injured Werewolf. Her back dodging his clawed strike, and in response her counter was too draw both of her guns and unload the full compliment of 30 bullets into the raging beast. Ejecting the smoking clips Selene reloaded then quickly and re-holstered.
She smirked flashing out a Zippo. With a snap of her fingers the flame was lit and she dropped it onto the corpse watching contented as it burned. Selene wiped the stars free of that accursed blood and replaced them back under her coat. With a roll of her crisp blue orbs she looked back toward the vampire hunter who had managed a bit of advice/lecturing. “Save it. I’ve had a long night.” her tone was commanding and somewhat harsh, but it was the truth she offered. Turning to fully face her friend now,the vampire was fully revealed. The dark chestnut locks of her hair swished in the warm night air ever threatening to poke her in the eye, yet soft as fingertips on her cheeks and jaw. The curves of her body were wrapped up in the confines of a PVC/vinyl catsuit armored lightly in places with leather, mainly about her torso and thighs. The nineteen-hole boots she donned had an impressively high heel, but the boots’ construction were oriented toward combat and support rather then the aesthetics of beauty.
One didn’t have to guess that Selene didn’t consider herself stunning, yet stunning she was. Augmented by her sire Viktor’s gift of Vampiric immorality and flawless features, she was stronger then most of her brethren. Bottled rage and the loss of her family fueled her in this quest to cleanse the earth of the filthy Lycan. Her steely eyes scanned over Cross and finally she softened her expression. “It’s good to see you again Rachel.”<br>#nosmileys
|
|
|
Post by Rachel Cross on Jan 11, 2005 20:38:11 GMT -5
Two nights later, Rachel was hunting once again. This time, she was after a different vampire, having already dispatched the one she had lost during the Lycan attack. Her cold was just an unpleasant memory and she was feeling good as she moved through the dark streets.
She looked like any of the other women walking the streets of the city except for the fact she walked alone and without fear. The Brazilian-made Taurus PT100, loaded with .60 caliber hollow point bullets, holstered under her jacket was only a necessity if she came across a vampire. A common street thug or predator was no match for Rachel's natural physical abilities. The wind shifted slightly, carrying the scent of a Death Dealer and Rachel paused, glancing around. Rolling her eyes skyward, she saw her quarry perched on a Gargoyle high above the street. Stepping back into the shadows, she prepared to wait.
Rachel leaned against the stone wall, concealed in shadow as she watched the vampire on the rooftop. The cross around her neck kept the vampire from knowing that she was being trailed by a Guardian and Rachel was grateful. She knew Selene would be pissed at her if she knew. An irate Selene was the last thing Rachel wanted or needed.
Selene was notorious among the Guardianship, though she stayed within the code of vampire conduct and didn’t kill humans for the sheer fun of it. Even so, she was still watched when she was out and about, which was often. Usually, it was Rachel doing the watching. She was considered dangerous, a loose cannon that sometimes stepped on the fine line that kept her from becoming marked for extermination.
Rachel straightened as Selene leapt from her perch and followed an ancient Chevy Nova. The Guardian took off behind her, keeping a careful distance from her quarry. Her stamina and endurance were better than an Olympic runner’s and she had little problem keeping up with the vampire. They stopped 10 blocks away and Rachel quickly caught her breath as she watched Selene walk toward the Nova’s occupant. The gun in her hand glinted in the moonlight and Rachel drew her own weapon, advancing rapidly.
“DROP THE GUN!” she shouted, leveling her gun at Selene’s back. The shots wouldn't kill her, but it would incapacitate her for a bit and sting like a bitch. “DROP IT RIGHT NOW!”<br> Rachel gritted her teeth and thumbed off the safety on her gun as Selene vaulted the fence. “Dammit!” She scrambled over the fence, tearing her jeans as she went, pissing her off even more. She hated when Selene didn’t listen to her. As she rounded a crypt, she heard an inhuman howl of agony and all at once, she understood what Selene had been doing. She had been stalking a Lycan. There was nothing in the vampire code that kept her from doing her job, so Rachel eased the hammer down on her gun and put the safety back on. She continued to walk toward the sounds of a battle, cringing when she heard the rapid series of gun shots. She had just slid her own gun back into the holster at the small of her back when Selene came into view. The Death Dealer was standing over the prone body of a Lycan, his blood glistening black in the moonlight. From the empty clips at Selene’s feet, Rachel figured he was very dead. “You need to start giving us heads up when you’re hunting,” Rachel said, her voice soft, but her tone stern. “I could have put a few bullets into you when you didn’t listen to me. Putting you in that much pain is the last thing I want to do.”<br> Despite her vow to be angry with her friend, Rachel found herself smiling back. They had a short history, but it was a colorful one. She had first been assigned to watch Selene during a training stint in Ireland when she was 14. She had followed the Death Dealer since, having several opportunities to actually get to know the vampire. Fraternization wasn’t forbidden by Guardianship rules; befriending vampires was encouraged, as it created Underworld contacts and helped Guardians pursue the rogue vampires they were assigned to execute. On more than one occasion, Rachel had helped Selene bring down a Lycan.
“It's good to see you, too. It's been a long time. How's the dog catching business going?" #nosmileys#nosmileys#nosmileys
|
|
|
Post by Ethan Quaid on Apr 19, 2005 17:22:01 GMT -5
Smoke rose from his lips. A bad habit that even his mortal death couldn’t stop, but he didn’t die from these things. He died another way, turned into a vampire a creature of the night. A cop at the time, the vampire got more than he bargained for when he came up against Ethan, which was part of the reason for the change. And he was brought into the Vampire world. Quickly he found how things worked, run and the means of hunting. Humans and Lycans alike.
Tonight was no different, but he wasn’t stalking normal pray tonight. He was a bit of a rogue in a sense, that he didn’t like to do things that other vampires tried to order him to do. Instead he walked his own dark beat and smirked. Though he’d lived here some while, British accent still stuck with him. Resting upon the curved top of the mausoleum he watched the blast of light in the dark, from a gun and the howl of a lycan. Smoke blew past undead lips and in one quick motion he was gone.
Voices were close to him as he stopped in the shadows, one Vampire, Selen. The other human, female. Undead eyes looked and watched the interaction between the women before he reveled himself. Gaining better look and vantage point from atop a gravestone. As he stood balanced in the moon light he flicked the done cigarette to the ground. “Selen darling, what you doing runnin’ round with a flesh bag?” his lips smirked as he shifted his weight looking towards the other vampire. “Some sort of gathering in the park ‘s word…Lycan.”
|
|
Roderick
Threat
"I absolutely believe in God... and I absolutely hate the fucker."
Posts: 5
|
Post by Roderick on Apr 19, 2005 18:59:22 GMT -5
“Name it.” Roderick said with a nod, waiting for the ancient Garou to state her claim before going into his own business. He was more than accustomed to how the alpha male posturing worked in a Lycan circle. If an elder wanted something you gave the respect and let them eat first, so to speak. He lowered his hand allowing the blood of his curse continue to flow. It would soon enough heal, and this was no time to field dress. Any weakness he knew would be looked at as a sign for the unseen circle that surrounded them to attack. One less Brujah to pick their teeth with… he knew the drill.
His beady eyes burned like black coal as he listened to her demands, then finally spoke his own. “I will do as you ask and the only thing I want in return is any information you have on the Brujah clan operating in this city.”<br>He looked over to the ebony skinned woman. She seemed nervous, especially more so now that he was looking at her. It was all he could do not to step closer and truly try to intimidate.
|
|
Rhona Stephens
Threat
Do you know what it's like to be hunted?
Posts: 5
|
Post by Rhona Stephens on Apr 20, 2005 20:49:41 GMT -5
“Ah my dear Boy, fine indeed. Nice to see there are still some manners taught.” Grandmother moved and tapped her fingers once again against the vampire’s chiseled cheek. “Too bad your not Lycan. Ha!” She gave a wiry laugh for a woman of her age before turning around to face him a soft nod given of her head. The grandmother Lycan paused for only a moment looking to the young woman before back up at the Vampire before her. One hand gathered the length of her deep purple cloak folding some over her forearm before beginning to speak once more.
“While both our worlds fight, there are similarities. But some matters cannot be ignored, thought they have tried to go undetected. There is a man out there of Lycan blood, Mrooking is his name.”<br>For a moment the elder looked upon the younger, she knew the name of her creator, the name of the one who’d brought her into this life. Before being taken care of. “There are responsibilities he should have taken upon him. Especially bringing in new blood to the hoard. The young woman with me, I wish for you to take her and find her sire. While I care for all children brought to me, it is time for her to learn more our ways and lives.”<br> Rhona faltered for a moment before chocolate orbs darted over. What was the woman saying. It couldn’t be true. The man responsible for bringing her to this hunted life, and now he was to sire her? But more so that Grandmother was willing to intrust her life to the large statue of a man before them. “No, Grandmother.”<br>“Child, I’ve spoken my mind. Only if he is dead could you remain and he is not.”<br> The mocha skinned woman fell silent, mixed emotions boiling within her. Fear. Hate. Disappointment. Pink tongue licked her lips, while arms folded beneath her breasts. Eyes once more looked up to the man and this time he stared back. It made the small fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and orbs flickered to look away. He was trying to intimidate her, for the most part it was largely working. Silently she listened once more as the Elder Lycan spoke.
“The Brujah, move in the north a large number of them. Hoards dwindle there. It is just before then you will find Mrooking. As for other information. I give you what I know. What I hear from my children. Anything more I could offer you I would, you’ve shown great respect and for that I will keep your name. Should more be heard it will find you.” Grandmother Larissa moved clasping Rhona’s shoulders before stoking fingers through her hair. “Don’t worry child. You’ve more potential than you think, believe in yourself and accept your gifts. You lived for a reason. As were you brought to me. But that time has come to an end.”<br>Rhona moved to follow as Grandmother made her leave, slipping into the shadows and the haze. One of the hidden guards of the nights events moved out stopping her in her tracks. The glare given, she drew back. Distance between herself and Roderick, and now growing distance with the only Lycan hoard she’d ever known.
|
|
|
Post by Rachel Cross on Apr 25, 2005 21:53:30 GMT -5
Rachel eyed the newcomer with more than a little distaste. Ethan Quaid had severely injured two Guardians, close friends of hers, in an alley not too far from where they were standing. The Guardians had inadvertently stepped between Ethan and a Lycan. When he lost the Lycan, he took his anger out on them. Rachel had gone before the Tribunal to ask that he be spared a death sentence on behalf of Selene. Begrudgingly, Rachel had to admit that Ethan was an excellent hunter and a great source of information. The undercurrent of her resentment that he had been spared hung in the night air between them.
Narrowing her eyes in his direction, Rachel thumbed the safety off her Taurus, keeping it pressed against her thigh. The way he inclined his head at her let her know he had heard the safety click off. “Flesh bag is not the way to talk about someone who saved your sorry ass.”<br> Ethan started to open his mouth when Selene stepped between them. She gave a tired sigh as she looked at each in turn. “You two really must stop with the childish name calling. It’s ridiculous. If there are Lycans near-by, then we have to see what’s up. Agreed?”<br> Rachel and Ethan continued to stare at each other for a moment before each nodded. “The park’s about two miles from here. It’ll be quicker if I drive,” Rachel said, clicking the safety back into place. She holstered her gun, never taking her eyes off Ethan.
Just one misstep, Quaid, she thought. Just one.
“My car’s just over the hill. Let’s go,” she said, gesturing to Selene. The pair started to walk away and Rachel glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, Ethan. It’s a two-seater. Looks like you’ll have to hoof it.”<br>
|
|
|
Post by anitablake on Apr 26, 2005 16:18:50 GMT -5
St. Louis was home... had been home and now the open road was, and sometimes the open air, which she hated. Luckly they let you get plastered on airlines now. Her dark hair fell in a sway and swish of curls as she walked, her shoes, beat up old blue and white Nikes making no sound. Just the way she liked it. The plane had landed three hours ago, but Anita Blake had chose to sleep off eight vodkas and two beers in the bustling terminal. Now the skilled huntress was feeling almost chipper. Key word being almost.
Two days prior to her own arrival, she had her forest green Cherokee flown in to great her when she walked out of the noisy airport. With a stride full of purpose she made her way to the jeep and paused shortly of unlocking the driver's side door with a scowl across her red stained lips, " Shit... you gotta be fecking kidding." Long fingers snatched the pink ticket with speed dizzying enough to make a race car driver's head spin a little. The scowl lessened as she saw it was only a warning. Had she been a day late however," I can tell I'm not going to like this place much." Tight asses, she thought to herself as she squealed out of the parking lot, almost knocking a huffy looking meter maid and her dorky looking excuse for a golf cart over.
As she drove, her eyes of deep brown, practically black eyes took in the structures and layout of the basically no-name city. It had a gothic european feel to it, very old and well kept in some areas, but the pits in others. No tall skyscrapers lined the sky, only spiraling towers and a few select buildings that resembling nothing close to a gleaming glass covered monaloth. The streets however had every modern working, street lights, traffic lights and bus stops. Cars traveled down New York City narrow cracking tar and was flanked on either side by walking masses. All in all the place had a gloomy, haunted feel about it, and this seemed to touch the Executioner's soul.
Eyes wavered from the road a brief moment to a peice of paper held in her hand, an address printed in her own not-so neat script and then the paper was tucked back into the pocket of her jeans as she wheeled the SUV into a paralell parking space. Kicking the door of her car open, Anita swiftly made her way across the sidewalk and up the steps, pausing a moment to take in the building that housed the no-name city's police force. It was like all the other buildings around it; dark, gloomy, ancient. Taking a breath, she walked inside, badge in hand just in case someone got in her face.
Strolling up to the desk she paused, amused to see that for once their desk man wasn't the typical over-weight donunt loving fat-boy with gossip problems, " Hi." This guy was still a loser however and probably gay, honestly what sort of man actually read Soap Opera Digest? Giving a frown at the lack of response from the loser, she smashed her hand down on the little bell," Oh... um... sorry can I--" " Marshall Blake. Your chief asked for my services and I'm here to ask him why." The skinny sixteen year old looking fop nodded and pointed to her right," Down the hall, third door. Knock first." " Right. Thanks kid." She smirked at the glare she received for calling him kid.
Ignoring his advice to knock first, Blake headed inside the office, pausing just short of the door," Marshall Anita Blake." She held up the badge proving her title and waited for the chief to introduce himself, which he did and offered his hand to shake. She never took it and sat down, " Let's get down to business shall we." " Sure thing. We got ourselves a problem... I ain't got time to explain it all to ya Marshall, but this file should tell ya what you need to know and what needs to be done." The Chief, probably fifty, maybe a few years over that settled a large, very full file before the brazen woman who had marched right into his office as if it was her own, " Also here's the address of the hotel you'll be stayin at, just give them my name as confermation." " Expect to hear from me in a few days." With that she took up the file and was back out to her Cherokee, her mind chewing on the fact that it wasn't the police who ran this city, but rather something or someone else.
|
|
|
Post by Ethan Quaid on Apr 26, 2005 21:59:06 GMT -5
Smirk grew against the vampires lips as the Guardian looked towards him. They had a brief history if not a eventful one. He’d been hunting and some of her friends had gotten in the way, casualties of war he claimed, more like casualties of his frustrations. They’d cost him the lycan and money, neither of which he’d been happy about. Of course it went over his head, and it was Rachel who spared his life, perhaps it was the relationship with Selene she had.
He laughed a moment as he heard the safety go off. “What’s the matter love don’t trust me, and flesh bag was only a term of endearment. I’d love a taste.” So she brought it up again, her saving his behind. Mouth opened to say something more as Selene stepped in the middle. With ease he jumped from the grave landing easily on the ground before the women.
“Agreed.” Came his accented voice as leather jacket was shrugged up and he moved forwards, Rachel saying it would be faster if she drove, of course a vampires speed was just as quick, but she wasn’t a vampire. As she commented about the car he stepped up close behind her as if breathing in her scent. “Don’t let you blood boil too much. You might over heat before the fun begins.” With another smirk Ethan went rushing off into the shadows towards the park, the smell of lycans was getting closer.
|
|
Selene
Threat
War was all I had ever known
Posts: 4
|
Post by Selene on Apr 27, 2005 23:40:50 GMT -5
Selene strode through the cemetery, shoulder to shoulder with Rachel. She re-loaded her guns and glanced at the other woman out of the corner of her eye. “You have to let your hostility toward him go. He’s a valuable asset to our cause.”<br> Rachel spared her a glance. “Whose cause is that, Selene? Because he sure as hell isn’t a friend of the Guardianship now, is he? He put two of our better Guardians in the hospital for over a month each because of money. Fucking money, Selene. He’s a liability and an absolute danger to both of us.”<br> “And the money isn’t part of it for you?”<br> Rachel stopped walking and Selene paused a few steps away, her shoulders hunching. She hadn’t meant to snap out that particular answer. She turned slowly to face her friend, balling her hands into fists. Rachel was silent for a moment, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold.
“I do this because I have to,” she said softly. “I didn’t have a choice. People die when I mess up and no amount of money can justify that kind of responsibility.”<br> Selene met her gaze and nodded slightly. “I’m sorry.”<br> Rachel walked past her, her car keys flashing in the moonlight. They got into the car and drove to the park in absolute silence. Once there, Rachel pulled out the Taurus and checked the clip. Selene watched her for a moment and shook her head.
“You can’t seriously think you’re coming with me?”<br> Rachel reached across her and pulled two extra clips from the glove compartment. She shoved them into her jacket pocket and got out of the car, slamming the door. Selene got out of the car, moving quickly to match pace with the Guardian. She was reaching for Rachel’s arm when all hell broke loose. #nosmileys
|
|
|
Post by anitablake on May 3, 2005 17:34:06 GMT -5
The contents of the file lay strewed across the large California king. Fancy hotel, even had an assortment of chocolates to choose from and then each night of your stay you would find a couple of said chocolates on your pillow. Classy.
Clad in nothing but the provided terry cloth white robe, Anita sat freshly showered looking over the information a little more, notes being typed onto a sleek laptop, a Christmas gift from an ex, but to nice to get rid of and occasionally came in handy with her line of work. Things weren’t as intense as they used to be in St. Louis, which was why she was a roving Animator/Executioner, she got to see places and gathered a better pay-check, only down side was the trips that involved air-travel.
Standing from the bed, the Latin and German mixed woman shrugged the robe off, her form naked in the shadowed light seeping in from partially drawn curtains of the sixth story window. Bare feet moved quietly across the soft, plush carpet to her brown and dull looking suitcase. It was time to get some field-work going on this case. Slipping on a pair of dark denim jeans and a black form fitting button-down shirt, the smallish woman strapped on her shoulder holster and headed out, room key in pocket and standard Nikes leading the way.
As she roamed the haunting streets, her mind began to wrap around the information given a little more. She had gotten the just of what she was asked here for, to play Executioner and take out what was assumedly to her a master vampire, who was figured missing and a master werewolf who was thought to be dead and apparently wasn’t. Just her luck, two kills and apparently she wouldn’t get any help from either side as the two supernatural beings in this city did not get along, apparently due to a horrorized verision of “Romeo and Juliet” between a vampire woman and said “dead” werewolf. Peachy.
Around her, Anita could sense the unease of the normal folk of the city, she not only saw it as their eyes strained and darted around them, but in their emotion, the looks and their body language, it made her feel slightly out of place considering she was no longer afraid of either species. It was a fear conquered a long time ago. It was also obvious that the city had fallen into the habit of locking up at sundown, in fact she was willing to bet not even Denny’s stayed open twenty-four hours in this city… a tad disappointing as she would have to rely on huffy and expensive room service for the duration of her stay. Pausing a moment, the black haired woman produced a piece of paper from her pants’ pocket, her eyes of block lifting to drift a moment with one last glance to the paper before it was returned to the pocket. Taking a deep cleansing breath she headed down into the subway terminal that she had finally reached.
|
|