Chicago, Illinois. 2017.

Upon the lakefront stood the Chicago Spire, a winding, beautiful building some six hundred meters tall. Built in 2010, it was a great achievement in modern architecture, a whopping one hundred fifty floors, and up until 2012, it was mainly residential suites and corporate offices. However, in late 2012, the Spire "lost" floors ninety to ninety-nine. No longer open to the public, the United States Government and Illinois government stated that those floors would be reserved for political VIP's, both local and foreign. Originally public opinion was negative towards the statement, but in time, they moved onto other issues, other distractions. Besides, no one in their right mind would be able to fathom, much less believe exactly what branch of the government called floors ninety to ninety-nine its base, or even believe such a thing existed, much less in such a landmark as the Chicago Spire. It is here, on floors ninety to ninety-nine, the agents of Spookhouse called home.

The private elevator reached its destination, and two men stepped out, nearly complete oppisites in body proportion. Side by side, the seemed like a almost comical duo. One stood over six feet tall, lean but well built, with a handsome but rugged, unshaven look about him. His hair short and gelled back in such a fashion that it seemed the man disliked spending too much time to truly style it, accentuated by his morning shadow of a beard and moustache. He wore a brown, leather trenchcoat, its lining a glistening brown silk. The coat itself seemed to clash with the style of the day, but it made the wearer less out-of-place and more unique. Noticable, but not offensive.

The man's partner, seemed his oppisite. Barely standing over five feet, the older gentlemen was a rotund man, of his late forties. Despite his rather robust girth, he wore a mantle of dignity. His balding head was neatly trimmed and combed, showing only a few signs of grew hairs. His manner of dress matched his gait, neatly pressed and lined it was a buisness suit imported from Italy. His chubby face was stern, wearing a wireless set of glasses.

The two entered a large room more suited to be a lobby on the ground floor than on the ninetieth. At the far end of the reflective black tile layed a long platinum desk. Behind the station, was a set of double doors, which in fact was yet another elevetor. Beyond the desk and two sets of elevators the room was barren save for a pair of camera's that covered the entirety of the room with their electronic eyes.

A lone secratary sat cross legged behind the station, barely trying to make herself look busy. The taller of the two men, stepped to the counter first, placing his elbow on it. The glare he gave the young woman gave no doubt of the lack of love loss between them. The secratary continued to file away at her fingers, seeming not to notice. The older man stepped along side the other and began to say something only to be cut off by the younger.

"What is the point of this code anyway?" The younger man asked frustrated. The elder gentleman looked at him peculiurly.

"Its just another security measure, Marcus. Nothing new," the man explained as if Marcus didn't already know.

"Well why? I mean we passed through at least a dozen electronic, visual, and ...." Marcus struggled to find the right word, "... 'other' security and protocols, all of which performed without us even noticing." Marcus looked back at the secratary, who still didn't even acknowledge their presence. He pointed at her "What is her point?"

The robust man sighed helplessly. "The world is a dark place."

Not looking up from her nail file, the woman asked apathetically, "Who will save us from the darkness?"

"We will." The gentleman proclaimed. The young secratary prodded a button on the terminal in front of her, and the double doors behind her slid open to reveal the other elevator.

Marcus shook his head helplessly and followed the other man into the elevator. "Its b*llsh*t. ." He cursed as the doors slid close.

The older man pressed two buttons, for different floors, and the elevator ascended. "You should really be more patient. As a field agent you need to keep your wits about you."

Marcus shrugged. "Yeah, I know, Greg. Its just that lady gets to me. Besides, anyone that didn't belong here and would pose a threat would have been detected long before they got within sight of the Spire"

Greg, or Gregory as he was called by most, nodded and changed the subject. "By the way, I hear you have another assignment, though I don't know the details, it seems you are to be partnered with a couple of the more... unique agents. Beyond that I don't know."

Marcus considered the words. Its not that he didn't like working with agents that were not quite human or those humans with unique powers, its just that any reasoning being would have some trepidation working with someone who could cause instant brain death with a thought or something a few notches higher on the food chain. But whatever happens, happens, was Marcus' favered approach to things. "Thanks, Greg," the field agent bid farewell to his friend as the doors opened to his level.

Altogether, Spookhouse ecompassed ten floors. Floors ninety to ninety-nine, plus the deepest basement level referred to as The Vault. The top nine floors had a unique set of elevators that linked the floors together. For security purposes, some floors and parts of floors could only be reached by particular elevetors or stairs, othewise those rooms are sealed off. The basic and general outline though, was floor ninety held the entrance lobby, but surrounding the room on all sides were the monitor and communications hub only reachable through floors ninety-eight and ninety-nine. Floors ninety- one to ninety-three held the agents offices. Floors ninety-four through ninety-five served as the residential area for those agents who would either pose a threat to themselves or to society if they were to regularly interact with them. Each section was especially customized to best suit the agents needs. Floor ninety-six held the armoury, shooting range, dojo, gym, among other training arenas. Floor ninety-seven was home to several labs including the genetics lab, weapons lab (and testing area), crime lab, etc. along with Dr. Gregory Peck's office. Floor ninety-eight held the briefing room, lounge, a small eating area, and two building security rooms. At last, room ninety-nine held the Commander's office, a secondary computer hub, a secondary armoury, and security room. A hundred floors down, even below the parking garage, was the Vault. The Vault, is just that, a vault, but its contents include artifacts that are too dangerous to put into the wrong and/or mortal hands yet Spookhouse have yet been unable to determine a way to destroy them, or artifacts that may serve to help mankind out in the future, but shouldn't be released at the moment at hand.

All togther, their are fifteen thousand people or more that work, live, or visit the Chicago Spire a day. Of those twenty thousand, some one hundred fifty to two-hundred-fifty occupy floors ninety to ninety-nine on any given day. The strong traffic served Spookhouse and her agents well, taking the concept of "hiding in plain sight" to a new extreme.

Back in the day, Marcus Czarnecki couldn't decide what was more shocking, the concept of the supernatural existing, or the sheer audacity of Spookhouse and their landmark HQ. Now, it was just another day the office, however. Making his way through the tight traffic of agents, and to his office, he plopped down at his desk, and began to review his caseload. It was just busy work, as he was aware "upstairs" would be calling him soon.

Ariana leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed as she mentally tried to cleanse her mind of her last case. The computer in front of her flickered as it sent the case report to her superiors. The image of disembodied hand in flames crawling along a floor appeared in her mind's eye. She gave a delicate shudder.

"Working hard I see." The young woman opened her eyes and found herself peering into the comely face of Agent Hartwell, who was looming over her. Agent Hartwell was still in her prime at 39 years old. She was tall, athletic, and possessed a certain sensuous beauty, that Ariana, short, slender and rather flat, had always been slightly envious of. The woman had been Ariana's mentor during her training and still periodically looked in on her.

"Just a short break, besides I haven't been briefed on my next case yet." She shuddered again. "I can not get the image of those flaming body parts out of my mind. I hope I never get paired up with that pyromaniac again. There was no reason he had to explode the damned things. I had pieces of zombie brain trying to burrow into my flesh. Disgusting. It took a while to get the smell out of my hair." Hartwell laughed warmly and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.

"You'll get used to the gore." Ariana made a face at her then sighed.

"The live gore doesn't bother me, it is just the decaying ones. The stench is horrible too. Honestly first whiff I got nearly made me vomit. By the way, when do I stop getting referred to as 'green'," she said, her tone wistful.

"Once you have a couple more cases under your belt and when you look over 17 years old. You have only been out in the field for 6 months, give it some more time." She sighed again, some of the agents had been rather condescending. Though she had been expecting some of that, she hadn't expected it to bother her as much as it had. The computer pinged at her, breaking her thoughts. She opened the e-mail, Agent Hartwell was looking pointedly away from the computer. She read the brief e-mail and smiled.

"Looks like I'm going to be briefed on my next case. Hopefully no zombies involved," she said, rising from her chair. She pulled a small hand mirror from one of the drawers, checking her hair. A few wayward strands stuck up, she soothed them down. Ariana wore a pair jeans, a bright red shirt that fit in current teen fashion, and a pair of athletic shoes. She would fit in with most teenagers within the United States. With her youthful appearance, she was not left with many options.

"I don't know when the next time we'll both be in town, but stop by my office every now and then. Good luck, Ari." The older woman smiled, suppressed the desire to mess up the girl's hair, affectionately.

"I will. Thanks Sarah," she said, returning the smile. The two women walked to the door together, then parted.


OOC: Haven't quite gotten into this character yet.

Natalie McClellan sighed.

"No, James, they do not make circular treadmills. Would you please just get on the flat one and start running?"

James nodded, and eagerly half-bounced onto the treadmill. He started to run and crashed headlong into the console. Agent McClellan sighed louder.

"James, stop this silliness or I shall have to hurt you severely. Would you please just turn the treadmill on before you start running?"

"But how do I do that?" James asked, perfectly innocently.

A devious light flashed into Agent McClellan's eyes. "Here, you just press this... and this... and this... There!" The treadmill was now running at top speed, ten miles an hour.

James ran on and continued running as fast as he could for twenty minutes. Then the treadmill motor burned out and he crashed into the console, this time creating a sizable crack down the keypad. Agent McClellan nearly screamed, but kept it to an exasperated grunt. "Enough for today... Let's just get you settled down. We'll try to get you a wheel as fast as we can, James, but please do try to keep things down in the future, will you?"

"Sure thing, boss. Hey, wanna come to my room? I have all sorts of neat stuff that I'm sure you'd love." The words rattled out of James' mouth like bullets from an Uzi; McClellan could barely understand what he said, but eventually she agreed.



"Cold pizza?"

"Yeah, isn't it great? Now I'll never go hungry when winter comes! I almost have enough food for next year's winter too."

"...James, they're all spoiled. You can't eat this without getting sick. And besides, it's mid-January in Chicago. It's hard to get much more wintry."

"Yeah, well, I can take it. Here, watch." Agent McClellan did watch, horrified, as James Frisby consumed three entire large pizzas in the space of five minutes.

"You know what, James? I think we're REALLY done for a while... Come back and see me later." And Agent McClellan literally bolted out of James' room and for her own. Thus, James Winston Frisby lost another mentor and companion, and would be hard pressed to find another.

Floor Ninety-Nine

-

The woman, dressed in an expensive-looking black Italian business suit, seated comfortably on a couch in the commander of Spookhouse's office, seemed to exude an aura of calm. At least, that is what Daniel Stern, the Illuminati agent who escorted her from Jerusalem to Chicago, percieved it as.

She's incredibly beautiful, there's no question of that. Her skin has a deep tanned tone, and her hair is as black as a raven's feathers. Her eyes were easily her most enchanting feature. The color of bronze, they seemed to be staring straight through you if you made eye contact. The thing is, she hadn't spoken the whole time, so Daniel had no idea what her voice sounded like. They had been waiting for almost two hours as well, but ever since she sat down, she hasn't budged an inch. Her hands remained in her lap, her eyes closed, her features completely blank.

At long last, her eyes slide open, the golden orbs gazing over at Daniel, "You.. are worried about what is keeping Spookhouse's commander..?"

Her voice was like nothing he'd ever heard. There was a definite tinge of an arabian accent there, but her english was fluent and completely comprehensible. She spoke no louder than she needed to, her voice hovering just above a whisper.

"Yeah.. a bit."

A faint smile spreads over her thin lips, "Worry not.. we are guests, after all.. they will not keep us waiting for long."

Daniel nods, "I suppose you're right."

She nods, "Of course."

He looks over at her again, "What was your name again? I'm afraid I can't pronounce it correctly.."

She smiles again, showing some of her pearl white teeth this time, "Bar-quee-jal. That is how you say it." She shivers after, "My, so cold in this place.."

"There's heating in here, you know.."

"I know. But it is still cold, for me."

--

April 10th, 1943
Somewhere in the Morrocan Sahara

"Nein, Herr Oberst. We're right on schedule. We swept north from the port of Casablanca, destroyed a couple of Mosques, and collected some artifacts, as ordered. We'll meet with you in Lybia in three weeks as we planned. Yes sir."

The well dressed SS captain clicks the radio off.

"Schisse, that idiot! Asking us to take tanks through this sand all the way across three countries!? Who the hell does Rommel think he is, Attilla the Hun!?"

Another SS soldier, a sargeant, walks over to him, "Herr Gregor, there's a sandstorm on the horizon. I think we should set down and cover the equipment. Might want to have a couple of people out to dig out the treads, too."

The captain nods, "Very well. Let's bed down here for now and wait out the storm." He looks up at the setting sun, "It's almost night, so why are you getting hotter, damn you!"

The reason would not be apparent until sunrise the following morning. After the storm had passed, the SS troops saw what looked like a woman, walking towards them from the direction the storm had come from. The soldies all aimed their rifles and machine guns at her.

"HALTEN SIE! WIE HEISST DU?!"

The woman stops atop a dune, only a few feet away from the men. "I am.. your punishment.. from Allah. Begone, defilers of the desert! I shall purify this land of your taint with my flame of judgement!"

As she begins to walk towards the men again, her form fades and warps, like a mirage. Gone is the woman, replaced instead by a huge black shadow with bowed legs and wings, terrible claws and huge horns jutting from the side of her head. The shadow speaks again, "Begone..!"

"SCHEISSEN!"

Bullets fly from the soldiers' rifles, the projectiles melting the moment they touch the shadow. Flames erupt from the creature's body as it stands to it's full height. Grabbing a handful of sand, the beast melts it, hurling the large glob of molten glass at one of the tanks. The steel warps and roasts the men inside it like marshmallows. One of the other tanks fires a shell at the creature's head and..

-

Barquijal closes her eyes again with a sigh. Daniel takes note and inquires, "What is it?"

"Nothing.. just.. a memory.."

--------------------
Dariya,

I know not what you are, but what I do know is that you are not human. That alone got me to thinking, and I am sending you to Spookhouse. You would not have heard of it, but it is part of the world Shadow government and it monitors supernatural activity and deals with any... issues that may arise.

This is in no way an imprisonment of any kind, but I think that you may be more comfortable if you are able to get out more, though in the beginning they may be suspicious of you. Something about your eyes when I saw you, so feral and desperate... I knew you were going to snap if something wasn't done. I can see auras and have mild empathy myself, and that was the only reason that I was able to know that you weren't human. I was the one who had to stay behind all the time, manning the radios and that. To be honest I envy the front line sometimes, except for the constant risk of death anyway.

I hope that you do well in your knew home child, and hope to see you again when we can speak more frankly and in more detail.

Sincerely,
Major Adams (MIB)

P.S. Yes you are right in thinking what MIB stands for. The movies did have some things right
---------------------

As soon as she finished reading it, the paper dissolved in her hand and she gave a startled oath, drawing a few odd looks from others as she walked down the street towards where she was directed to go. As it stands now she is just stepping off the elevator on the ninetieth floor, feeling as if a thousand eyes are on her, which, she admitted, there probably are. Approaching the front desk, the secretary not even looking up from her nails made Dariya mildly irritated.

"Lieutenant Akhatova reporting."

It was all she said, and then she stood there, her lean form exuding confidence and patience. She would wait as long as she had to for this woman to respond or for someone to come out and get her. She was expected wasn't she? Also... she had no intention of giving up what she was. Secrecy had been pounded into her head from the time she was little, and even if the Major was right and this was based on the supernatural, she still needed to be cautious. Besides, her mistrust was a hard habit to break and right now she knew no reason to even try. Still.... she did remember the man, he had been kind to everyone, always having an amusing word to brighten up the day. And... oddly enough she did believe him, even about the MIB part. Why was it so far-fetched? If you acknowledged that the supernatural were real (and she had to considering she was one), then it stood to reason that there were government organizations of a sort to monitor them....

Besides.... there were many strange scents in this building, half of them she could not identify except to think with certainty that they weren't human, or not quite anyway.

Standing at attention, especially considering that the receptionist hadn't moved a muscle not even to pick up a phone, well, it irritated her quite alot, and if she had been in either of her other forms her tail would have twitched. As it was, she could not help the hiss that escaped her lips, and at that the secretary finally did look up.

"Can I help you?"

She stared for several seconds before biting back,

"Well, you could have almost ten minutes ago, but I guess better late than never. I am here to see the Commander, and considering I had a transfer put through ages ago, and I was told by my own superiors that I was expected I really don't see the reason why you have ignored me this long. Now put down your bloody nail file and do something!"

The secretary barely even blinked,

"Who will save us from the darkness?"

Dariya's face went blank as she thought of how much she wanted to throttle the woman at this point, but she didn't act on the impulse despite the vividness of the image in her mind. Still, she couldn't help but speak, and it was obvious that she was becoming very irritated, not that the woman seemed to care. In fact... if she didn't know any better that looked like a smile quirking the corner of her mouth, and was that.... amusement she smelled?

"I have no bloody clue woman! It's not like I know your little codes!"

The lean lycanthrope was jet-lagged, annoyed and frustrated beyond all reason now. Not only had she had no sleep on the plane, now she had to deal with someone who seemed to get their jollies by messing with people's minds and pissing them off, knowing that nothing would happen to her, even if she did piss someone off.

"No admittance then."

She snarled, and nearly did leap over the desk and strangle the smug little grin oiff the woman's face, but a familiar face came into view as an elevator opened opposite the one she had come from. It was the Major! A bright smile greeted him, and he came around the desk with a glare at the secretary.

"You were supposed to send her through. You knew that."

The woman inspected her nails, not even looking up,

"Oops."

Dariya looked over at Adams and asked quietly,

"Would anyone miss her do you think?"

She was half-serious.

The Major obviously took it as a joke (or wished to) and a chuckle was the only response she got.

"Follow me Dariya, and just so you know.... be honest with the Commander."

The soft voice was apologetic, remorseful and timid all at once. "I didn't mean to, Raphael."

"I know, Beth. Don't worry about it."

Despite the calm reassurance, the first speaker felt like elaborating. "I panicked when it moved in my hand on its own. I didn't know it'll do that, so it caught me off-guard. And I forgot about my strength..."

"Like I said, I understand. It's not your fault, Elizabeth." Raphael repeated in a more firm tone of voice, and then sighed as he lifted his eyes from the thoroughly crushed device on his table. Peering past the silver frame of his rectangular spectacle lenses, those grayish turquoise eyes were tired, though not entirely from dealing with her. "I'll get you a new one and teach you how to use it properly? Would you prefer that?"

Elizabeth fidgeted, her pale hands troubling the edges of her long sleeves. Her theme of the day seemed to be challenging the amount of skin she could cover, as her choice of clothing for the day, or rather, night, was a long toes-touching sandy brown dress of slight resemblance to a Victorian era's riding habit. "Do I really need to have to use that thing? I've just gotten used to the ear-piece and mico... micoro..."

"Microphone."

"Yes, that. I learned to use them because of missions... but this mobile phone thing..."

"Will definitely be useful. During missions or out of them." Raphael rubbed at his temples, wishing for either medicated oil or aspirin. Trying to get the three hundred years old (in name, not in substance) vampire to just accept using electronics was like trying to plug one's own teeth out. Very difficult. But after being her mentor in all things regarding daily life for four years now, he knew just which buttons to push. "Trust me, Beth. I haven't and will not hurt you, am I not right?"

True enough, Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, you are right. I'll learn."

"Good." Raphael finally let out a smile that softened all the stern lines on his face caused by work and stress, looking more like the twenty plus years old that he really was. He could have sworn that working with Elizabeth made him age more than he really should, not that she was particularly difficult. Except when working with electronics and slightly more difficult machines. Speaking of which... "Beth, there's an email for you."


[OOC: This damn post wouldn't come after two full days of brainstorming, and I'm writing it while feeling the sweet beckoning of sleep, so if it has missing words or lousy grammar structure, please please forgive me. I'm also aware that this is written mainly from Raphael's perspective but he is still just an NPC. Sorry if it's confusing.]

Simultaneously, messages flooded the offices of Spookhouse to several key agents. Each message was simply a letter, signifying the briefing room they were to attend.

The practice of simultaneously briefing a dozen or so agents at the same time then sending them off to different corners of the globe was standard protocol. The way cases were taken by Spookhouse followed a cycle of events. News reports, police reports, rumours, etc. of strange going on's that filtered through the world were all documented and brought before the Illumanti's information analysts. Those reports pertaining to the supernatural, or possible supernatural, were sent to Spookhouse. From there, the reports were investigated by "secondary" agents, many of whom do not even know they are working for Spookhouse. After a brief summary of events, Spookhouse Analysts, often referred to as SA's, determine first if the supernatural is a factor or not in the events. Then the SA's determine if further investiagation would be warrented or, if the situation poses no threat and attracts little media attention, should be tagged as harmless. If further investigation is warranted, Spookhouse's "special" agents were called in to investigate and/or eliminate the supernatural threat.

The briefing room waited for Agent's Czarnecki, Arianna, and Bishop. As soon as Marcus recieved his message via his phone, he stood up from his desk, still fully unaware of what waited him on his next mission. Leaving the mountain of debris that covered his desk, he slipped on his faverite fedora, and walked to the elevator. Entering in the elevator, he went up to floor ninety-eight. He quickly made his way past the lounge, which at this time was full of agents conversing on all matter of subjects, and made it to the briefing room. Agent Andrew Pei, who was effectively second-in-command, stood at ease on the far side of the briefing hall and nodded at Marcus as he entered. Marcus returned the silent greeting and took a seat in front of him. Knowing that asking about mission details before the others arrived would be futile, he crossed his arms.

Meanwhile, at the top floor of Spookhouse's offices, a woman in subtle buisness attire opened the doors to her own office. Jeanine Houston was her name, her role, CEO of Spookhouse. Nearing seventy, her appearance put her closer to her fifties. Once beautiful, age and stress had taken its toll, and to see her unclothed body was to see dozens of scars from battles but a few people in the world knew of. Still, despite her slender frame and age, she gave off an aura of command and calm, and the fact she was the third best pistol marksman in Spookhouse afforded her much respect even among the inhuman members of the agency. She passed by Barquijal without a word. It was not out of rudeness or aloofness, it was just that Commander Houston was not one to waste words. She simply took her seat, and folded her hands in front of her waiting patiently for more to arrive.

It didn't take long for the newest addition to Spookhouse to arrive. Dariya and the Major stepped into the room. The office itself was magnificent. Clean, orderly, of modern (if somewhat dard) design, with a breathtaking view of Chicago. No light fixtures were on, the sun provided light through the window that ecompassed the entire back wall.

For several moments, there was silence. Jeanine said not a word, her blue eyes slid up and down Dariya, sizing her up. Finally she nodded, a nod that meant neither approavel or disapproval. She stood up from her seat. "Welcome Ms. Akhatova. Please have a seat." Her request was polite, yet it still carried the weight of a command.

She waited a few moments for Dariya to take a seat, a few feet from but adjacent to Barquijal. "You are aware of most of what Spookhouse does. We monitor, record, and at times combat with the otherworldly and the supernatural. While you have just arrived here, there are still some matters of residence that need to be attended to. That being said, let me state that this agency, and the agent's it employ's, greatest asset is adaptability... to learn and accomplish by doing. In other words, for you to learn of us, and us of you, we intend to use your talents immediately."

She looked back and forth between Barquijal and Dariya, "You two will be partners, along with Agent Frisby, on your next investigation." Commander Houston waited a moment for the women to respond at her statement, or to each other before she briefed them on the mission.

(OOC: I don't mind short convo posts, in fact I'm looking for them. Just getting things underway anyway ^^)

"As you wish."

As before, Barquijal's voice was only loud enough for everyone to hear. She glances over at Dariya, giving her a slight nod in greeting, her expression still not changing. She turns to the Illuminati agent, Daniel, who had escorted her and whispers to him something in Arabic. He nods, stands, and takes his leave. Then, again, she goes back to remaining motionless, her golden eyes sliding closed once more in concentration.

She simply waits, patiently, to be dismissed by her new employer.

Dariya's gaze slid over to the woman, just as the other woman gave her a slight nod in greeting. The lean wereleopard nodded back in respect, then turned to the commander.

"Yes Commander Houston."

This was.... interesting. For some reason her sensitive nose was picking up.... heat from the woman beside her. Not smothering heat but she had the feeling it could get that way. That put her on edge, and her eyes briefly flashed to their kitty cat form before she quickly surpressed it. So they were not going to outright ask her, but instead send her on a mission right away? Thinking about it, she thought it likely that it would be difficult enough that she would be forced to use her abilities, and she cringed. Dariya was still not entirely certain that... wait.... the way the Commander treated the woman beside her indicated that the two were known to each other, and that meant that.... She frowned slightly. Bloody hell.... The woman who smelled of heat and sand would likely tell them of anything she did.... lovely.

A sympathetic look from the Major caught her eye, and though she didn't turn towards him, the corner of her mouth quirked in a smile.

She did wonder who the other Agent was that she would be working with though...

"Wow, this will be fun! Yeah, sure, I'm okay with that."

Frisby was almost literally bouncing off the walls, and nobody seemed to care. Finally he had a chance to be useful! Nobody really had the courage to send him on a mission before.

Beneath all the excitement, however, Frisby really was serious. He was eager to prove his worth, and find someone who would look after him. He'd see what would happen in due time. Death was not at all on his mind. Only self-worth and approval.

"The Greatest threat to the freedom of Vampires is not the Vampire Hunters, but the Nosferatu and the other lowly Vampires who walk in our Shadow."

- Gabriel

-------------

"I want a new weapon."

The attendant to the Spookhouse armory looked a bit nervous, but it was her first time seeing a Vampire before. Gabriel tried to keep a calming expression on his face, but all he could come up with neutral. Oh well, he thought, I'll settle for neutral.

The attendant pulled up a large box of assorted handguns, but was unable to keep her grip on the box quite right. It slipped, and caused a few of the plastic guns to crack. Gabriel ignored it, not having wanted the new plastic guns in the first place. He enjoyed metal a great deal more, and never noticed it's weight. He pulled both his revolvers from their holsters.

"I want you to hold onto these. They're very old, and very special. If you lose them, then I might break my rules and turn you into a Nosferatu."

The clerk tried to manage a smile, but she was clearly wishing that Gabriel was not here. Gabriel himself wished that he had a competent clerk to work with, one that actually knew about guns, like his Father had, or the the HK clerk who had helped him with his original revolvers. He had realized since he joined the agency that a new weapon was required. He searched methodically through the bin, while the clerk silently slipped away, only to be replaced by what appeared to be a scientist. He picked up both revolvers, studied them for a minute, and then fired a bullet into the ceiling, startiling Gabriel.

"I don't think that you'll find anything quite like these guns in there."

Gabriel controlled his anger.

"Please stop firing my gun into the ceiling."

The scientist let the revolver hang at his side.

"Why not? It's not like you care about the ceiling."

Gabriel squeezed his hand tight.

"It's a bit difficult to find shells for a 15mm revolver anymore. They tend to be a great deal smaller, and even though I can make my own shells if I had too, it's troublesome to make the charges."

"Well, we can fix that. I've been assigned to arming the new recruits. Follow me."

Gabriel was a bit annoyed by his British accent, but what could he have expected from a scientist who specialized in weapons? He had watched enough pop-culture flicks after he woke up to have expected this. He almost vomited at the notion that this man might very well have the codename of "Q".

"Here we are now old boy. Go ahead and look."

Looking around, Gabriel was in what appeared to be enough weapons to arm a small army. From the ancient, yet durable AK-74s, to the more modern M8 U.S. Assault Rifles, to an ancient World War I anti-tank rifle, there was every single species of firearms represented. Gabriel opened each case, pulled out each weapon, and tried to find one that satisfied him.

"These are all weapons for Humans, not a Vampire. I can't kill my enemies with normal bullets. Give me something with a bit more power behind it."

The scientist raised his eyebrow, and motioned for Gabriel to follow. They entered a pristine white room, round like a cylinder. The scientist pointed towards the pillar in the center, which held up a glass case holding two pistols.

"These are my personal favorites, but so far none of the new recruits have chosen them. I don't really understand why, but maybe they'll fit you, as you seem to like handguns."

Gabriel picked one up, and was able to feel the balance in the gun.

"It's certainly high quality. But why exactly, should I think this is anything more than a very nice pistol?"

The scientist picked up it's twin.

"20 millimeter round, eight shots per clip. Not very large, but it packs a punch."

Gabriel noticed a bit of sweat on the mans head, but dismissed it, until he aimed the gun. It was so heavy, he had to rest it on his arm.

"The sights automatically readjust to the wind, so you never have to both with that. And these are special bullets too. Allow me to show you."

He aimed at a wall away from Gabriel and the doorway, and fired. The wall suddenly had a large hole in it, going for about three feet, until the bullet had stopped in concrete. A foot wide hole had been made in the wall.

"Shockwave technology is excellent for killing the Undead. As the bullet hits, it spins in a special way, causing it to expand and contract rapidly. This causes a large shockwave upon impact, seperating skin, bone, and muscle from each other. It should even kill a Vympire in a full clip, if you hit them in all the right spots."

Gabriel was starting to feel excited about his new weapons, but stayed calm. He pulled the cartridge out, and selected the top bullet. He examined the tip, which was a glass vial filled with Mercury.

"Quicksilver? I'm beginning to like these weapons more and more."

"Good. Then maybe I can finish this up. Each gun weighs about 50 pounds, and is covered in Silver. Underneath the main barrel is one pure silver bullet, which should be excellent if you come up against a werewolf. Just....don't...waste it on the wall please. They're a hassle to make, and we have to bless each one."

Gabriel grinned, and took the other gun from the Scientist. He found the holsters underneath the case, and put it in the place of his former holsters. Both guns fitted in perfectly.

"I think I'll take them."

Gabriel showed all his teeth, including his fangs. He left the room with the smile on his face, turned towards the original clerk when he saw her. She hid under the desk. He turned to her, and became serious again.

"Don't lose my other guns. They're part of my history, and if they have so much as one more scratch on them, you will know what I can do to my enemies."

He placed his hat on his head, and pulled the long trenchcoat from the rack. He suppressed his happiness, and lowered his face enough so that his unnaturally white hair would cover his eyes. Reassuring himself, he placed his hand on his new guns.

"In the name of God....Revenge will be mine!"

"Wow, this will be fun! Yeah, sure, I'm okay with that."

The little man bounced into the room, so full of energy and movement that her eyes widened slightly.

It engaged her predator's interest though, and despite the fact that she should be paying attention to the Commander her eyes were fixed on the excited individual as he ran around the room, her eyes glinting and intent on what to her beast seemed to be prey. It really was tempting to pounce and kill, but she had never let the urge get the better of her before, at least not over anything that was sentient.

Her intentness quickly became annoyance though, and she opened her fulllips to speak, the words spilling from them in agitated French, which was the language she tended to use when angry oddly enough.

"Arrêtez de courir autour de pareil ça! Autrement je peux finir par devenir vous mâcher."

You didn't need to understand the language to know what they meant, it was clear enough by her annoyance. Stop running around like that! Otherwise I may end up chewing on you. It was true. If he didn't stop bouncing around like that.... Sighing she simply looked down into her lap and took her eyes away from the little prey running around.

He even smelled like prey.... damn.

"Men have said that they are all brothers, because they all bleed red. Vampires bleed red, and yet we remain in the shadow of Man."

- Gabriel

------------------------

Gabriel strolled calmly through the halls of the Spookhouse Headquarters. Despite the relatively hot day, he still wore his leather hat, and the same long black trench coat. Gabriel smiled inwardly at the fact that Vampires didn't feel heat nearly as much as humans did.

"I'm sorry sir, this is a restricted area. You'll have to leave."

Gabriel kept the brim of his hat low enough to shadow his eyes, keeping the perfect menacing look on his face. Lifting both his head and the hat, he showed all his teeth, but was careful to pronounce the large fangs used for feeding.

"Out of my way peasant. I'm very busy."

The guard quickly opened the door, and let Gabriel past, who went through the doorway with the same smile on his face. He had the necessary ID cards, since he was an official member of Spookhouse, but he never got tired of scaring the younger generation of humans.

"What to do today...."

Gabriel looked for the nearest coat-rack, one of the things which he had thought was lacking from the original Spookhouse. As one of the few residential Vampires, he had a great deal more influence than the common soldier, and being in control of vast wealth seemed to help. Gabriel sighed. He would never understand the humans incesant desire for money, despite the myriad of other, far more important things.

He finally found a coat rack, and looked around the hallway. Nobody was present. Perhaps they were at a meeting, hopefully getting a new assignment. Gabriel hadn't been given a mission in months, not since the first one where he was assigned to capture a lowly were-wolf stalking the London streets. Boring.

"I wonder if there's anything for me to do around here. The selection of woman seems to be a bit poor, and there's absolutely no place for a good hunt."

Gabriel shrugged, walking silently down the hallway towards what he hoped would be the firing range. Perhaps, he thought, he would at least be able to fire on a live target.

Barquijal opens her eyes again, speaking in that eerie, hushed tone of hers after the other woman was done spouting that coarse language of hers.

"Be silent.. it is difficult to align myself here with such noise.."

The other woman gives her a hard stare.

Barquijal interrupts her before she can say anything, "He has not spoken, dispite his erratic behavior. He is being respectful, as am I by ignoring his misgiving. You should learn to do the same."

With that Barquijal closes her eyes again, returning to her calm meditations. She sniffs lightly at the air, making sure the woman would notice.

"Lycanthrope? I see.. that would explain the temper and animalistic tendancy to pounce on the other. This should prove interesting.."

(OOC: I can't change it anymore than that without completely scrapping the post, which I'm not going to do. At least she's not talking now. Also, can I ask you guys to turn off your signatures for IC posts? It just makes it easier to read. Thanks.)

"Vampires are the Greatest Paradox of the Universe. Those who now fear us, Men, are the ones who created us, and continue to create us."

-Gabriel
--------------------

Gabriel stopped at the door to the firing range. His hand was already resting on the doorknob, ready to turn the handle and let him in. But he thought that he was forgetting something.....

"Idiot!"

Gabriel let go of the doorknob, and speed walked back down the aisle. On the way, he grabbed his trenchcoat and hat, putting the pair on as he moved. He walked as fast as he could while remaining dignified, heading with the certain manner of someone who knows exactly what they want to do.

As he came upon his destination, he fixed his hat and clothes, and opened the door quickly.

"My apologies for being so late to the briefing Commander."

He didn't wait for a response. He didn't need to. He simply found a corner, leaned back against the wall, and waited for the briefing to continue.

Dariya tensed at the woman's tone, nearly hissing at her before she caught herself.

That wouldn't help matters, to start a fight with another, and besides.... it would probably get her fired. She would say one thing though, for the simple reason that she could not totally help herself. It was in her nature to defend herself, whether it be physically or verbally, and this one... this one who smelled of heat and sand had engaged her ire.

"It is in my nature, and I will not apologize for something that is a part of me."

That went for more than just the surface. She was well aware that lycanthropes were not viewed in a very... bright light (hell, she herself hated the wolfen variety with a passion), but she would not apologize for her nature, for something that she had had no choice over. It was pride for one, but it was also a sense of self that would not be denied. Dariya probably would have continued speaking, but someone swept into the room, and she took in the scent, eyes widening slightly at it before she leaned back, turning her attention away from the other and towards this new one.

"My apologies for being so late to the briefing Commander."

Dariya studied him, tilting her head slightly as she looked him over with a predatory glare. He was vampire, she could smell it. That didn't bother her though, she had never had problems with the bloodsuckers, though she knew that some had. He was cute, but what stopped her from saying anything was the silver that she could smell on his person. Why did she automatically assume that if there was silver it was ear-marked for an attack on her? Sighing, she spoke quietly in her thick, Russian accent.

"I am Dariya, and who might you be?"

((OOC: Disabled my sig and thanks Asuka! ))

"I am Dariya, and who might you be?"

Gabriel looked out from under the brim of his hat.

"The Lord Gabriel Diovosky, A No-Life King."

He noted the creature that had spoken it. A lycanthrope, a were-leopard to be a bit more precise.

Gabriel looked around the room, noting each of the agents. A second lycanthrope was busy bouncing around. Gabriel raised his eyebrow at the sight. He had yet to see a were-hamster.

Noting the remaining agents, but finding nothing humorous about their species, such as being half-hamster, he settled back down into his corner.


OOC: It's not an attack on your character, it's just funny. And no quote at the top for posts that are conversational.

Agent Ariana Flores paused outside the briefing room she had been summoned to. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she mentally prepared herself. She prayed that there would be no zombies involved with her next case. Her hand glided swiftly through her dark hair as she tucked a lock behind her ear. Fixing the neutral expression she always used when she met with her superiors on her face, she extended a slender arm to open the door to the briefing room.

Inside, Agent Andrew Pei stood waiting for the agents assigned to this mission to arrive. She noted that a male agent had arrived before her and was already seated.

"Sir," she said in a respectful greeting to Pei, whom she was well acquainted with. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly in a pleasant but bland smile that quickly returned to the prior neutral expression.

"Agent," he replied, nodding at her. She quickly moved to take a seat, stealing a discreet glance at her fellow agent. An attractive man in his 20's. She had never cared for the way men gelled their hair these days. It always left an unpleasant residue on her fingers. A shower for the gel and a shave would help, she thought insignificantly to herself. He was probably one of the types that never spent much time on himself. She gave a mental shrug. At any rate he looked fairly normal, though one could never tell. Well, as long as he was competent she didn't care.

Ariana crossed a leg and waited, absently staring at the back wall. Her appraisal of the other agent lasting only a fraction of a second. They were apparently awaiting at least one more agent since Pei had yet to address them.
Though her face remained the same, her mind roiled with curiosity.

"Elizabeth Carmilla, you have been through this before so just calm down and make a good impression on others." The vampire stood alone in the elevator, a pale hand reached up to tug at some of the curls that had strayed over her shoulders as the lips moved to allow the nervous whispers to escape. "Don't make a fool out of yourself when those electro... electronics thing do strange things."

By the time she stepped off on the ninety-eighth floor, Elizabeth had managed to calm herself down considerably and began making her way towards the briefing room. A few of the agents who had talked to or worked with her at some point greeted her as she went past and she nodded back with a small smile. It was still amazing to her, that some of them did not seem to mind that she was a female, or that she was no longer a human, and was willing to work with her as an equal.

Before long, she was standing in front of the briefing room and after a long pause to calm her nerves again, she pushed the door open slowly and walked in soundlessly. Feeling a little awkward, she stood near the door and looked around at the few occupants quickly to identify the person in charge. When she spotted Agent Andrew Pei, whom she recognized because of his position, she relaxed a little. "Elizabeth Carmilla Bishop reporting, sir."

He nodded in return and indicated that she should take a seat, and she quickly reached for one next to the others who had already arrived.

[OOC: I feel that I can do better and add character interaction but I don't have much of an inspiration lately and I feel I'll turn it bad or something. Argh.]

The woman stands, adjusting her black business suit, her gold eyes settling on the Were-Hamster first, then on the other Lycan who was seated across from her.

"My name is Barquijal. If that is too difficult to pronounce, Ilbis is also a name I will reply to. Now, commander.. I have a few questions. Firstly, the details of our mission. Secondly, I require special accomodations. I trust they were prepared in advance, and I'd like to tour them. Thirdly.. I must ask you to reconsider assigning me teammates who will only get in my way."

Barquijal just stands, her golden gaze settling on Spookhouse's CO.

Commander Houston watched the interaction between her new agents intently, though she seemed to stare through them rather than at them. "Agent Frisby please contain yourself," she spoke softly, but the weight of her command calmed the were-hamster somewhat. "Agent Diovosky, this mission doesn't concern you at present, but stay until it is over. I have another task for you."

"Lady Barquijal, to answer your questions, yes, accomondations have been prepared for you. Should you require more, simply ask Agent Pei. He will organize what you require. As for you other question, Spookhouse agents, regardless of how powerful, unique, or expierienced they are, are always deployed as a team. As such, perhaps having an agent of your caliber would instill some discipline in..." Houston glanced at Frisby, "... some of your fellow agents. As for your mission, you will be sent to New Brunswick, Canada. Another Agent, Carlos Escalona, is waiting for you in the city of New Castle."

"Over the last eighty years or so, ghost stories have circulated around the area, many originating from the Dungarvon River. These stories could be attributed of urban legends and tales woven by lumberjacks told around the campfire. Regardless, a series of strange occurances have plagued the river recently. In addition to a series of dissappearences of campers, hikers, and fishermen, residents near the river have reported hearing a shrill cry from one end of the river to the other. This cry, for whatever reason, cannot be recorded, and strangely doesn't seem to emit soundwaves. It is as if the cry's origins is forced into the mind, rather than being heard. You three are to leave for New Castle, New Brunswick immediately and investigate the river, and the strange sound. Your priority is determining the cause and finding if it has any connection to the lost people. As always, discretion is required, but the area is largely undeveloped, especially along the river, so that may afford you more freedom to use you respective talents. Any quesitons?" Commander Houston finished, and stared forward waiting.

============

Major Agent Pei nodded when all were present and accounted for. "Good, your all here. We can begin."

He tapped his remote, and dimmed the lights to the room, a projector clicked on. "Sixteen hours ago, we were alerted to a disaster that struck in the country of Singapore. While we are a worldwide agency, our resources and local support in that area of the world could be improved."

Pei tapped his remote again, on the screen flashed a picture of what seemed like a bunker, or check point. "Almost twenty four hours ago, this miltary station and the 4th Battalion Singapore Guards Unit were attacked by and unknown force near Lim Chu Kang. More disturbingly, an entire bus of tourists vanished near this same point." Pei clicked another button. On the screen flashed what at first seemed to be just a military uniform, sunken and flat. But on closer inspection, it revealed it was a mutilatilated corpse. The flesh was dark grey, as if it was rotted, and stretched. It seemed to have no bones at all, and the facial expression wore a look of sheer horror his mouth was stretched open for a full twelve inches. The corpse was disturbingly reminecient of Edvard Munch's "Scream." Marcus coughed to hold back his disgust.

"As you can see, this is no ordinary terrorist attack. There are fourteen other soldiers in identical condition to this one. No one witnessed the attack or saw what caused this. However, gunfire was heard for a brief few moment's. Despite the deceased soldier's condition, there was one survivor, though he claimed he was knocked unconcious after the first shot was heard. He is being held in a base south of where the attack occured." Pei clicked several more times, cycling through pictures. The soldiers bodies were scattered all over the place, some were folded around corners of a structure or around a pole.

Marcus leaned back, and spoke after just glancing at the pictures. He spoke to himself as much as the other, "Notice anything? The shell casings, and the way the bodies are laid out? They were all shooting in the same direction... and they were not seeking cover. At the same time, the emptied a lot of shells, so this took a little time. Where were the other soldiers at the checkpoint, Major?"

Pei nodded, "Conducting exercises at that moment. It only took them five minutes to get to the sight of the slaughter, by then it was over." The Major clicked his remote again, this time the picture was of a overturned bus alongside a rode. "This bus was discovered a short distance away from the attack at the base. Appoximately forty-five people were on it, but now they are all unaccounted for. All were foreign tourists. Beyond the crash, they're was little sign of struggle and only a few traces of blood. No bodies were recovered, and that is our priority. Find the missing tourists, and determine what attacked the base and murdered the soldiers. Then capture or eliminate that threat..." Pei muttered, "not nessessarily in that order."

Pei turned the lights back on. "Ever since Singapore narrowly thwarted a major terrorist attack at the Changi Airport, the entire country has been in dire straits. The country cannot afford another incident of this magnitude, so the attack on the base, as well as the missing tourists have been put under a media blackout. Finding those people take priority over all other objectives. Any questions?"

Barquijal makes a bit of a muted frown when Houston informs her she'd have a teammate no matter what the circumstances. She dispells this quickly, taking her seat again and crosses her legs. She pays little attention to the vampire that just walked in, seeing as she could smell him walking down the hall. She voices her reply as she settles back on the couch.

"I understand.. the climate will be of little concern. I will do my best."

She again goes mute, eyes slipping closed to contemplate whatever it is beings of her infernal origins contemplate.

"Any quesitons?" Commander Houston finished, and stared forward waiting.

Dariya thought for a moment, her gaze sliding to the other woman in annoyance before she responded. She would have to work with her? Lovely, just what she wanted to do, though in any organization based on military she didn't exactly have much choice. Oh well.... this was certainly better that Russia so far, at least in the sense that here she could sense that she was among others that were different, and she hadn't been around that since her parents.

"No questions ma'am."

The Major patted her shoulder and whispered in her ear before setting off,

"Just control your anger and you'll be find dear. Always remember to just ignore those that piss you off. Totally block them out if they deserve it. That being said if you instigated than be prepared to realize that, apologize and move on."

With that the Major gave a brief salute and turned to leave.

"We'll talk when you get back Dariya."

Looking back at the group in front of her she smiled to herself a little before waiting to see if any of the others had questions.

Gabriel frowned under his hat. Was it a solo-mission?

Even though he had rarely gone solo, he knew that it was a bit more flexible than going with a team. Especially with the team he had seen in the room. Gabriel smiled in the shadow of his hat, but it was a smile directed inwards.

He approached the commander after everyone had finished with their questions, waiting for his next assignment.

[OOC: Short, to the point, and it allows room for people to finish up with their questions.]

Agent Flores stared at the ghastly images, swallowing her revulsion and willing her professional detachment to kick in. Lightly pressing a finger to her lips, she pondered the details of the case. They would need to find out what had happened medically to those soldiers, but that should be taken care once the autopsy results were available. Still, it was strange that there was a survivor. Perhaps whatever attacked them, either didn't have the sense to notice that one was still alive or was unable to identify a victim unless the person had a stream of thought. Then there was the question of the connections between the missing tourists and dead soldiers. There could be some political motivation involved or simply the two event could be unrelated.

Ariana shook her head, there was hundreds of possibilities. They would have to narrow them down once they arrived at their destination.


OOC: sorry for the crap post. Wasn't sure what to write XD

Major Pei nodded assuming there was no further questions, at least none that could be answered at this time. "Very well everyone. At present time, we can offer little in the way of support, and as always, while the regular army can offer a limited supply of asistance, it falls to you to find out what attacked that camp. A flight has already been prepared for you, and you live within the hour." He was about to dismiss his agents, when his eye's locked onto Elizabeth for a brief moment. "Oh yes, since it is still midday, traveling out into the world would prove a chore for you, Agent Bishop, wouldn't it?"

He walked across the room and picked up what looked like a case for a chello. On closer inspection it resembled a silver/stell coffin. "The 'shop' has provided this for you, to make international travel less of a hassle for you. The 'Carry-on-Coffin' is a completely air-tight travel vehicle, with armour plating that can handle up to fifty-caliber rounds before denting. Also comes with a built in floatation system and of course, CIA travel tags to get through Homeland Security checks."

Marcus couldn't help but let loose a little chuckle.

"Marked 'fragile' of course," Pei continued.

------------

Commander Houston nodded, "Then you leave for New Castle immediately. Transport has already been prepared and Escalona will meet you at the airport."

Turning toward Gabriel, after the rest of the group left, she slid a enevelope across her desk, and waited for him to pick it up. In it was a long report of a one Lawrence Sype, AKA Law Sype. Sype was a current big name actor, while not the most talented, he had a knack for landing the big roles. Handsome, but a reputed "bad boy" on the celeb scene. He appeared in such movies as "Absolute Truth" and "Southtown Knights" not to mention his latest, "Shadowrun: City Under Siege."

But also accompying the bio and list of works was newspaper clippings and photographs of gruesome killings. Killings only a vampire in full blood rage could perform. The dates of the killings, including local sightings of Sype in the vincinity seemed like more than a coincidence. The last group of poloroids were the truly damning evidence. Sype tangled with a unknown woman gave into his more beastial and demonic urges. It was more than a simple "kiss," the actor ripped into her chest, and began to cannabalize her. Currently, he was staying at his mansion just north of San Diego, California.

Seeing Gabriel's progress with the report, she looked up at him. "Those were taken a few day's ago by a paparazzi. Granted we were suspicous of the recluse actor for sometime, but never did we imagine he was so far gone. As you can see from the report, his birthdate, parents, and acting career all check out, so he is not a vampire lord. It would intrest us immensely who exactly turned him. However, our first priority is to eliminate the threat he pose's to the public, and we cannot risk him infecting other high profile innocents."

She turned to gaze out the window. "Make no mistake, this is an assassination. Use whatever mean's you have to purge Mr. Sype from our world. That is your main objective. Sype is too high a profile to aduct, and even if we capture him, he is too young to disobey his master. Your second objective is, of course, to find any leads to further vampires, especially the lord that made him."

Watching the commander, Gabriel almost thought she lamented the idea of sending him. Though if the lament was born from relying on a vampire like himself, or sending him to kill his own kind, he couldn't tell. "Transport is waiting for your in the parking garage. It will take you to O'hare airport." By transport, she meant his armoured Hearse and coffin Spookhouse had provided.


=============

Changi Airport, Singapore.

Marcus waited patiently at the luggage retrievel area at the airport, tourists and trevelers from all around the world. He couldn't really hide his smile, though he knew he shouldn't be laughing at his small parnters misfortune. When he saw the "Mobile-Coffin" slide down the chute, he honestly did his best to catch it before it slammed into the gaurd bar of the rotating retrievel area... but failed.

Picking it up gently, he tried to bite back his laughter. "You okay in there?" He vainly whispered to the armoured and sound-proof case. The airport was packed, and he didn't worry about standing out. He walked over to Ariana. "So..." Marcus talked as he walked to the exit, "just what are you capable of? And whats your take on this mission?"


============

Miramachi Airport, A few miles south of New Castle, New Brunswick.

The Spookhouse crew arrived just around nightfall at the small community airport. Stepping out of the plane, a single humvee was waiting for them. Standing in front of the vehicle was a muscular man of latino or mexican desent, waiting with his arms crossed. At first, the man was a bit hard to spot, wearing a black jumpsuit and assualt gear. In fact, before (most) of the crew saw him, they felt his glare. He was handsome and in his early thirties, but his expression was anything but welcoming.

"You the reinforcement's?" Escalona half asked, half demanded.



(OOC: I know most of you left, but if you change your mind, this rp is still open to you. I apologise for making you wait so long, again. Really there is no excuse.)

OOC: Yay! Strangers back! Hope everything worked out well.

IC:

Gabriel stretched his neck as he re-read the assignment. He rarely thought of a high-profile actor as someone who would be a known Vampire. Especially one that got himself caught in photographs.

"To think that a mere child believes that he has the right to call himself a Nosferatu......has the quality of my kind slipped so much?"

He shook his head, looking down at the know slightly crumpled paper. If "Law" Sype could go into a level of bloodrage, he was no better than an animal. Gabriel wished for the old days back in Romania, where even the lowly Nosferatu had the courtesy to act a bit more dignified than this.....scum....that Gabriel was assigned to kill.

Gabriel placed the papers back in the envelope, closed it securly, and placed it into his coat. He opened the dark office door, and strode quickly down the artificially lit hallway. While there were no windows in this hallway, as nearly every Vampire had asked for there not to be, Gabriel was still bothered by the brightness.

Taking care not to either dent the door or knock it down, Gabriel lightly tapped the door to the armory. A slit at the top opened, and a man's eyes appeared out of the darkness.

"Who's there?"

Gabriel smiled, and held up his authorization.

"Gabriel Diovosky. I've been given a mission, and leave in less than an hour. My ride agreed to wait for an hour, but I don't like to keep people waiting beyond my promises. Now open up."

The slit closed, and Gabriel heard the creaking of old joints that longed for a can of oil. If the door had been around half as long as those joints were, then Gabriel guessed that it was at least half paint, and the other half was rust. He pulled the door out more, impatient with its slow opening speed, and strode into the armory.

A rusty door was not a good indication as to what lay inside the armory. Everything was neatly organized and cleaned, and only the thinest layer of dust was on the racks of weapons. Gabriel strolled directly past the rifles, pistols, rocket launchers, grenade launchers, and even a gattling gun. He approached one of the attendants, who was flipping through an index to find a weapon for another agent. Gabriel pushed him aside.

"I'm Nobility. I get priority here."

The clerk looked up at him, and shut the book.

"Whatchya lookin' fur?"

Gabriel frowned at the man's accent.

"I need an explosive charge. Something that can, say......blow a good sized hole in a house."

The clerk pointed silently at the shelf directly to the side of Gabriel. It contained enough C4 to level the building they were in, let alone a mansion in California. Gabriel took a brick. He looked over at the clerk again.

"What do you have, in the way of body armor?"

The clerk got up.

"Follow me."

He led Gabriel down four aisles, explaining each and every piece of body armor there. Everything from modern Kevlar and Dragonskin, to Steel Plate and Mail was there. Gabriel chose to go modern. He didn't expect to find a distant decendant of Helsing weilding a wooden stake somewhere in San Francisco. He picked up a carbon fiber composite suit, and turned towards the clerk.

"Make this come in a three piece suit. The tie must be jet black like the rest. I've got a shirt already."

Gabriel waited for five minutes before reaching for his phone and telling his transport that he would be delayed a bit more. Before he could even dial the number, the clerk walked out again, with a three piece suit that fit Gabriel exactly.

"I get that request alot. It took a bit to find your size though. And a black tie."

Gabriel patted the clerk on the shoulder, and changed into the suit on the spot. He left for his transport, carrying his carefully folded coat and his hat. He reached the transport quickly, and handed his "casual" clothes to one of the men packing his Hearse. The driver showed him to his coffin, and Gabriel thanked him accordingly.

He layed down quietly, and shut his eyes for a quick nap.

The flight had been... interesting. While Dariya was not afraid to fly, she did not particularly enjoy it. Something about being in a tightly enclosed space hundreds of feet off the ground tended to bother her, though mostly due to her more instinctive side she thought. Still, the end result was that she had not slept, and since she hadn't slept on the plane flight from Russia either she was rather.... cranky, though that word was an understatement.

Which is why when he noticed the man standing by the humvee, almost immediately he annoyed her. The hostile expression... as if he was judging them before even meeting them. It bothered her quite alot, which was why she was quite snappish with the man.

"I assume you are Agent Escalona?"

The question was rhetorical as she walked towards him and the humvee,

"Lieutenant Akhatova, formerly of Spetsnaz. Now are you going to stand there like an ass or take us to where we need to go and tell what you know?"

Her thickly accented voice was quite obviously annoyed, and though she would acknowledge that he was quite handsome, that did not mean that she would enjoy his company. Looks were not everything, and she had never understood those who thought so. Right now she was simply hoping that he was competent in his job and not just wearing the assault gear for show.

Sighing, she added quietly,

"Look, I apologize for the hostility. How about we both try not to judge by initial impressions yes?"

Ariana Flores soothed out wrinkles in her pale gray-blue blouse and black knee length skirt as she waited for Agent Czarnecki to retrieve their "baggage". She pulled out a compact from a pocket in her roll-on luggage to check her hair and make-up. Her new brand of hairspray certainly was to be recommended. Flying tended to make her hair stand up and frizz. The majority of the strands had stayed in place this time. Wetting a finger she soothed a few hairs back then grimaced at her reflection. The make-up she had applied made her look a year or two closer to her age, but still too youthful. She was sure it would be a blessing later on, for now it was a damned nuisance.

Ariana noticed Agent Czarnecki approaching her, lugging the mobile-coffin. Amusement still shone in his eyes. She shook her head smiling, though she honestly sympathized with the vamp. Being in that tiny space for the entire flight could not have been fun. Ariana herself was a bit claustrophobic. She waited until her partner joined her, then both walked towards the exit.

"Just what are you capable of? And what's your take on this mission?"
Ariana studied his countenance for a second before answers, abstractly noting to herself that the constant noise around them was more than enough to cover their conversation.

"PK," she said, using the acronym for pyschokinesis. "As for the case, I'll wait until I have an idea what happened to those men, at least from a medical perspective before I come to any conclusions. I have a feeling this isn't going to be a smooth ride."

Elizabeth could not help a sigh of relief at hearing Marcus Czarnecki's voice, albeit muffled and almost inaudible through the layers, because that meant she could confirm that she was no longer on a huge metal machine that can transport a lot of people at high speed by air. It had been a highly uncomfortable trip, several times worse than her experience with the moving box called a car. The moving coffin was surprisingly comfortable, but her main problems came from the violent vibrations and unbearably loud noises that kept her up awake until she could not resist the urge to sleep anymore. All in all, she was extremely glad that it was over. Even the discomfort of bumping into things did not matter as much.

Fishing for the wireless ear-piece of the communicator that the agency had thoughtfully provided and activating it, she pushed the bud into a ear just in time to hear Marcus's question and Ariana's answer. The mention of the case brought her mind back to the briefing, and she shuddered at the memory of the photos, muttering a short prayer for the poor victims. Nobody deserved to die like that, she remembered thinking at the end of the briefing, and promised to herself again that she would help find who did such a thing to them.

Digging into the same inner pocket of her coffin for a small wireless microphone, she switched it on and brought it before her lips, "Erm excuse me... hello? Is this working right?"

[OOC: Yes, Elizabeth is trying to communicate to her fellow agents. ]

Gabriel had taken the night flight. He was glad. It had been a long time since he'd been outside the Spookhouse HQ, and he always did enjoy the sights. He placed his hat on, and went to pick up his luggage. Which is all reality, meant leaning over to his left and grabbing a special case containing his weaponry. Gabriel grabbed the case, along with the rest of his, and was about to shut them inside his coffin when he noticed a letter sticking out of a suitcase. It had undoubtably come open, and was repacked hastely.

He took the letter, and look to who it was addressed. It was "Law" Sype. Gabriel could almost feel the scums heart in his hand.

Realizing that his ride towards the exit was almost over, he shoved the letter in his pockets, and shut the coffin.

--------------

It wasn't long before the Airport was clear enough for Gabriel to get out of his coffin. He stumbled a bit as he got out, not having been on his legs for quite some time. He put the coffin off the side. It was for travel purposes only, and was a hassle to carry outside of the Airport. People didn't question your luggage there, but as soon as you stepped outside, carrying a coffin definetly attracted attention. Gabriel wasn't found of attracting questioning eyes. Questioning eyes usually meant another dead person.

He slipped into the bathroom, and changed into the suite. The rest of his clothes were packed into his other suitcase, and his guns and C4 were packed in a seperate, searchproof suitcase.

The suitcase proved itself against the security, which Gabriel guessed weren't even fit to look at him. He scoffed at them in disgust on his way out, and made his way into the dark of night. There were only two thoughts in his mind; How to kill Law Sypes, and who had turned him into a Vampire?

Singapore

"Yeah, I get that feeling too," Marcus frowned wishing he had more to go on than a simple preliminary report. His cell phone vibrated in his inside pocket to his brown trenchcoat and the seasoned agent could guess who his caller was. Before he picked it up he retrieved his Spookhouse investiagtion kit and tools from a large dufflebag from the luggage retrievel and slung it over his shoulder.

Picking it up, Marcus caught "...working right?"

"Yeah I hear you, how was your flight?" Marcus asked loudly. He flicked his head in the direction of the exit to signal Ariana to follow him. "Listen, its still daylight out, we're going to head out now, and let you out later, 'kay?"

Making it out of the door, he found a military outfitted humvee waiting for him along with two full uniform Singapore military soldiers. In green fatigues, and a blue beret, one held up a sign marked "Czarnecki" although the other soldier recognized the pair when he saw them. Stepping up the Marcus he gave a salute and stood at attention. "Staff Sergeant Nou, 3rd Division. You are Mr. Czarnecki and Ms. Flores, the specialists from America, correct?" Sgt. Nou asked in perfect english, with only a hint of a manderin accent.

"Yeah, thats us. Our third member will be joining us shortly, but we are going to go ahead on our own," Marcus answered before Nou asked. The sergeant nodded, and flicked his wrist to his partner who immediately collected the groups luggage, including Elizabeth, and placed them gently in the truck. The Sergeant opened the rear door for Marcus and Ariana then took the passenger seat up front. Marcus let the teenager in first then sat down in back while the private took the drivers seat.

When the car pulled out of the airport with little fuss, Sergeant Nou cocked his head back to address the pair. "I regret your visit to this country is under such sordid reasons, and regret further still we cannot afford the time to give you proper rest after your long flight, however this tragedy must be quickly handled. This is a small island and despite our best efforts, word travels fast. Already our containment camp is drawing scrutiny."

"We can't make any gaurentees, but we'll do what we can," Marcus leaned back in his seat trying to relax. Nou nodded, he wished to ask further questions, like just who were these "specialists" and what connection they had to the cuase of his comerades deaths... not to say anything about the authority that protected them. Nou didn't have particulary anything against foreigners, but they dead were his comerades, Singapore 3rd Division soldiers, and to him this should be a matter for Singapore herself. He was a soldier, but still he couldn't help but harbor some sense of resentment.

It didn't take particulary long to get out of the city, even by humvee, at least compared to the flight, and the ride was mostly silent. The closer they got to the sight, the more grim the atomosphere became. Marcus was knew the feeling, but still not used to it. Nor did he want to become used to it. On his way to the aftermath of a bombing or mass grave in Iraq, or a murder scene in Chicago, Marcus always got a knot in his stomach. And he knew, under his discipline and sense of duty lurked a primal fear of death that exists in all men. He preferred it that way however, it reminded him that he was still human, even though he was one of the relatively few that knew humans were not the only beings that ruled the planet.

Eventually they found themselves passing buy a hastily put together roadblock composed of APC's and other humvee's, along with a few dozen soldiers. Nou's humvee slowed only slightly before it was waved through. And eventually, ominously right when the sun was dipping behind the horizon, they found themselves in front of a hazmat camp. Plastic, clear tents were pitched in a organised fashion all across the road and to the side. Nou turned back to his charges again, "The site is about kilmeter north of this camp. Currently this incident is being treated as a biological weapon attack. All the bodies have been moved here, along with the survivor."

The humvee came to a stop, and the crew piled out. Marcus turned back to Ariana. "Sundown..." he said looking at the sky. Suddenly he turned to Ariana, "I think its best we work as quickly as possible and that involves splitting up. Do you want to take a look at the bodies first, and interview the survivor, or do you want to head directly to the site?" Nou cringed that Marcus had already taken charge.

===============


Canada.

Escalona's feature's didn't soften at Dariya's attempt to be friendly, instead he turned back to his jeep and simply commanded "Get in."

The drive to New Castle, wasn't particurly eventful, nor long. It was a simple drive over a bridge, and the agents found themselves in a rural town, the dead of night making the empty streets seem more ominous than they were. Pulling up to a local inn, Escalona looked at his fellow agents. "You'll all stay here for the night. I've compiled a little bit of research into this 'Dungavron Whooper' and put them in your rooms. I have a few arrangements to take care of before we head out into it in the morning."

When they were out of the car, Escalona didn't bother to say goodbye, or offer any further explanation to them. With little to do, the trio went into the family hotel, odd accomandations for them to be sure. When the other two agent's entered the hotel, Dariya stopped. A shiver went down her spine, as if she had just walked over someones grave, then realizing it was hers. Turning back around, across the street, down an alley a solitary figure of a man gazed back at her, though it felt like he stared into her, rather than at her.

============

California, San Diego

Sitting in his huge living room, Law Sype leaned back on his sofa. His nose was covered in a white philm, evidence of his attempt to climb the montain of cocaine in front of him on his knee high glass table. He felt, hungry, agitated, and unsatisfied. Empty. No matter what he drank, what he ate, what he snorted, nothing curbed his new appetite. It was a joke, a bad joke, things like this only happens in the movies. People don't go around drinking other people's blood.

But then again, Law was always special, always unique. Always "on top of the world" as his father said. Yes he was in charge of his own destiny, and even if he had special needs, he was just coming to realize the gifts he was given. Yes, Law Sype was special, one of a kind.

But, the only thing Law could bring himself to do to the mocking laughter of the shadow in front of him was stare. Was he real? Was he a figment of his own twisted imagination? The actor couldn't tell. This shadow, though, even Sype knew had a purpose, had a plan, and more than that, was even more important than himself... and they were precious few that could boast that. That is why when the shadow reached out offering his hand to the actor, the actor reached back.

His hand, for the first time, he saw his hand, a huge clawed thing, with only three fingers. Wet? No, oily, Sype though to himself. And the hand wasn't reaching for him, rather giving him something. And like that, the Shadow, the master was gone.

The room swirled and Sype found himself in bed with a young man, or rather what was left of him. At this point the actor was used to this grizzly scene, and even had a plan to dispose of the remains. But he couldn't bring himself to look at the chunks of flesh and bone this morning. Instead, he looked at what he gripped firmly in his hand. An old flintlock pistol... loaded and cocked. Sype also knew the one its bullet was meant for, his targets face etched deep into his psyche.

Ok... now she was really annoyed. She hadn't slept, hadn't eaten anything, hadn't been able to shift in years, and to top it all off the one they were assigned to work with seemed to want to talk about as much as a rock did. Yes... this was going to be a wonderful adventure now wasn't it? Dariya wasn't totally certain if her annoyance stemmed from a facet of her personality, or simply the fact that she was an alpha.

Thinking on it though, being alpha was just as much a part of her personality as anything else was anyway.

Basically she was sulking in the passenger seat, sneaking sidelong glances at Escalona, mostly because she was trying to see if she could annoy him as he had her. It wasn't working though, and after about ten minutes of this she had given up. Her annoyance though... it was also due to the fact that it was very difficult to work with someone when they would barely speak. Essentially... communication was key, and here they were stuck with someone who couldn't even really do that.

The humvee came to a lumbering stop, and they exited the vehicle, to a few more words than she had heard from the man so far. Smiling slightly, she started to walk towards the inn, a simple place, but then again she was used to far worse conditions than this. Sleeping in a proper bed was going to be nice for a change, and she was actually lookign forward to sinking her head into a plush pillow. Reading that report bedamned, she growled to herself, I'll read it in the morning. Dariya was always an early riser anyway. Still, she would set her alarm clock, because due to the sporadic nature of her sleep lately... who knew if she would actually wake up at her normal time.

Just thinking of sleep had her eyelids drooping slightly as she stumbled towards the doors but... all of a sudden a chill went down her spine, and she stopped in her tracks as the other two continued on inside the doors.

It felt as if... she had walked over a grave but... somehow more personal. It felt like... it felt like had just sensed her own death almost, her own grave, and she snarled. Turning back around, across the street, down an alley a solitary figure of a man gazed back at her, though it felt like he stared into her, rather than at her. Staring, she debatred simply ignoring whoever the hell it was and going in to sleep like she dearly wanted to do. However... one this sudden appearance of a stranger, coinciding with the feeling of death, had her very angry. It almost felt like a threat from the man and... Also she had a job to do, and someone appearing out of thin bloody air in the middle of the night was certainly on the list of unusual circumstances that called for investigation.

Innocents just weren't out this late.

Not in a small town like this.

With a growl she took off at a run towards the figure, purposefully limiting her speed on the off chance it was a civilian, but still flashing across the distance as if it was nothing, coming to a stop in front of the figure, her lips curled over her teeth in a snarl of rage.

"Who in the hell are you, and why are you staring at me?"

This just pissed her off.

"Sir, should I help you with those bags?"

Gabriel glanced over at the bag boy. San Diego might not be the most suitable place in the world, but it was far from a slum. At least they had servants here, Gabriel thought.

"I don't need help."

The boy let out a few stutters, but was soon stopped by Gabriel's discouraging apathy. The manager saw Gabriel go up the stairs with the bags and began to chastise the boy, who apologized profusely. The manager ran up the stairs to apologize to his client for the lack of service, but was disappointed to find only an empty hallway.

Gabriel smiled as he emerged from the shadows. Human's might kill monsters, but most of them were worthless scum. He walked calmly to the very top of the building, and looked over city. The moon was waning, less than a sliver. Gabriel looked down the people, watching their heat more than their actual movements. Couples together, people who were sick with stress, the depressed, everything that belonged in the big city....except....

"Damn. I should have seen that sooner."

Taking off the suit, Gabriel changed back into his preferred clothes. He placed both his pistols on his overcoat, and was sure to carefully hide his explosives beneath the floor. He walked towards the window, and stepped off the edge.

Two hundred years had dulled all the excitment of free-fall, but it was still amusing. He was sure to conceal himself, but just to make sure, he changed into a group of bats. There were ten on each pistol, and the rest flew free. They landed right were Gabriel had wanted too, in a dark alley in between decaying buildings. He was quick to reform himself.

He realized now what he had missed. He walked slowly up to the mutilated body, laid out in a cross. The heart had been ripped out an eaten, and the eyes were missed. Written in blood on the wall was a message. It didn't take Gabriel long to find it, but the challenge came through deciphering the inane ramblings.

"So there you are! Big bad No-Life King!"

Spittle hit the street towards the right of Gabriel. Two silenced shots rang out and hit Gabriel square in the arm. He smiled.

"Are these supposed to be blessed rounds?"

He didn't need to look where he aimed. He pressed his finger against the trigger, and heard the loud bang of a gun. It wasn't his.

"Those were the cheap-o blessed rounds. I bought them from my close friend. He's a drunk bum, but he wears a cross. It's good enough for a distraction."

Gabriel coughed up a bit of blood. Blood? He should have regenerated fast enough to avoid bleeding. The man smiled, and stepped into the moonlight. He was dressed in all white, except for his sleeves. Around his wrists, they were red with blood. He placed the gun to Gabriel's heart.

"Suprised? You never actually thought that I'd let a devil spawned son of a bitch come into my city, would you?"

He pulled the trigger, but Gabriel wasn't there. A hammer cocked behind the man's head.

"I wouldn't be suprised if I had known who you are. You're good enough to keep Nosferatu at bay, but not me. Now, who are you?"

The man smiled and dropped the gun. He put his hands up in the sign of surrender.

"Alright blood-sucker. You win this round. My name is Reverand Conrad Burton, International Transylvanian Agent."

Gabriel lowered his gun. The Reverand pulled out a cross, lunging at Gabriel. He wasn't even halfway through his lunge when he dropped the cross. Gabriel's gauntlet blades had pierced his forearm, opening his hand forcibly. Gabriel smiled.

"There are muscles all over the human body. That one right there opens your hand when you put pressure on it. Now, why did you attack me, and what is the International Transylvanian Agency?"

Conrad Burton only smiled as he blacked out.

OOC: Sorry for the late response, had guests yesterday and been studying for finals
IC:

Like Agent Czarnecki, Ariana was having her own apprehensions though hers were based solely on the evidence on the current case and her own relative inexperience. She gazed over the camp, the tents stood out almost surreally from the natural terrain.

"I think its best we work as quickly as possible and that involves splitting up. Do you want to take a look at the bodies first, and interview the survivor, or do you want to head directly to the site?"

Marcus' words interrupted her thoughts, she grimaced slightly. As the memory of the body floated across her mind. Despite her revulsion, she'd feel better if she had an idea of the means by which they died. She had taken anatomy and physiology in high school and in general had decent background knowledge.

"If you don't mind I'd like to get a closer look at those bodies," she said, her voice grim.

"My flight was fine, thanks for asking. And please don't worry, I'm alright with staying in here for now." Elizabeth reassured the man transporting her around, simply content to have successfully communicated with her fellow agent. Privately, she thought Agent Czarnecki was a pretty nice person, though only time would tell for sure. More than a handful of people changed their thinking when they found out exactly what she was, and she could not help but kept her expectations low.

The trip, lasting no more than two hours by Elizabeth's judgement, was more comfortable then the flight had been and having nothing to do, she dozed off to the lulling movement of the vehicle. She was roused when the car stopped and her carrier was unloaded to somewhere near her companions, and she listened as Marcus quickly took charge.

Fingering the microphone, she spoke up, "Is it safe enough to let me out yet? I would like to help, even if just a little."

Marcus heard Elizabeth's request to come out, and he certainly couldn't blame her. "Yeah, I hear you." Looking up at the sky, Marcus nodded. "Ariana, let's set up. Give us a moment Nou, is any space available?"

"Yes, that tent over there," Nou confirmed and point at a tent along the edge of the camp, with two gaurds outside the entrance, makeshift like the rest of the camp but it would do. Marcus made his way for the tent, leaving Nou behind. Inside he found a table, three fold out cots, and various other neccessities, but little else. Gently setting the suitcase in the center of the tent, Marcus entered in the first of three lock codes, bypassing the first trap. The second depressurised the luggage, and the third code finally opened it.

"You alright there?" Marcus asked, offering a hand. "Listen, I'm going to head out to the site where the attack happened. I'll start setting up my equipment and do a preliminary investigation at the site. I want you to cooperate with Ariana and examine the bodies as well as question the survivor."

Removing the communicator from the suitcase, he handed it to Ariana, "If you find anything, give me a call." He straightened his hat, and looked them over one last time. He had to remind himself they were both capable agents, despite their appearance. Nodding one last time, he left the tent.

Marcus returned to the humvee, Nou and the private still waiting at it. "Sergenant, can you take me to the site?"

"Mr. Czarnecki, this may have been a biological attack, so..." Nou was going to tell him to get into a hazmat suit, but the agent shook his head guessing what Nou was going to say.

"I don't think that will be nessessary, Sergenant," Marcus interrupted.

The private looked at his superior, his face blanching, but Nou, either out of a belief that Marcus was right or not one to be one-upped, nodded. "Take us there, private."

The private took a moment before speaking "Yes, sir."

Marcus made one last glance back at Ariana and Elizabeth before getting into the car. The car turned around, and made its way out of camp back onto the main road. The humvee sped off to the attack site about a kilometer away from the camp, illuminated by lights.

The place the bodies were house was obvious, the hazmat tent was massive and lied at the center of the camp. Several gaurds were stationed outside both to keep people out, and most likely to keep the lone survivor in.

=============

New Castle, New Brunsick

The man simply blankly stared at Dariya, despite her aggressive stance. He stood no more than six feet tall, and his olive skin and his black, curly hair that hung down his back belied his Italian heritage. Suddenly his eyes locked onto Dariya, as if noticing her for the first time.

"Non è una cosa semplice notare un apostolo, soprattutto quando non desiderano essere visto," the man spoke solumnly. "Non importa. Abbiamo già due del suo tipo," no hint of emotion, no fear or hatred, crept into his voice. His eye's looked back up at the hotel.

Suddenly Dariya was hit with a strange sensation. Almost like heat, but not felt physically, a wave rolled over her. Instinct forced her to turn around, and she too locked her stare on the hotel. For a moment nothing happened... then came the inferno. A series of massive explosions, from the ground, second, and top floors. The blast rolled over the street, and several cars parked nearby also exploded. The force alone knocked the were-tiger off her feet.

And of the italian? Looking back, Dariya couldn't detect him. Not in sight, nor sound, nor even scent. It was as if he was just gone, or more disturbingly, never there to begin with. She was left in the alley, alone, the hotel behind her already crumbling.


=============

Law went went into the basement of his three story mansion, after dismissing his few servents. Strange though, there were other people there. At least a dozen people seemed to simply just appear in his home. He wanted to ask where they were from, who let them in, but he couldn't, rather he wasn't allowed. He was sure he heard them whispering, chatting back and forth, and he leaned in to listen.

Instead, he found himself saying something, though he didn't understand what it was. It seemed like inconsistant babble, but also at the same time it seemed important. For a brief moment of lucidity, Law looked at one of his "guest's" faces. The man, or woman, wore a mask. The mask was in the shape of a devil's face, twisted in pain and agony. There were no eye holes, nor hole for a mouth.

Unfortunately, as soon as he saw it, Law forgot it. He looked at his hand again, the flintlock pistol still was part of him. He sat on the floor infront of a widscreen plasma television. He sat and waited. He just knew another guest would be appearing in his home sometime today.

(OOC: Sorry for the late post, everyone, I meant to get this up yesterday, but I kinda forgot about father's day. ^^;; Anyway here it is)

She grew more and more angry as it seemed that the man was continuing to ignore her, but then his eyes fell to her and he spoke. There was no hint of anything in his voice... nothing at all, and it was one of the creepiest things she ahd ever encountered in her life, the most disturbing. There was nothing there, at all, in his voice, and she would have thought on it more, perhaps even began to question him about it, but the words took root in her skull, branding them into her mind with their weight, and she blanched as she felt the heat pass over her.

Turning by instinct, she looked towards the hotel, but nothing happened for several seconds...

Then came the inferno. A series of massive explosions, from the ground, second, and top floors. The blast rolled over the street, and several cars parked nearby also exploded. The force knocked her off her feet, and she swore as she hit her head on the ground. And of the italian? Looking back, Dariya couldn't detect him. Not in sight, nor sound, nor even scent. It was as if he was just gone, or more disturbingly, never there to begin with. She was left in the alley, alone, the hotel behind her already crumbling. This..... sucked. It was sad that it was the first word that came to her mind, but it described her feelings about the situation perfectly well. Getting up slowly, clutching at her pounding head, she stared, shocked at the crumbling building that had moments before been whole. It wasn't her imagination...

Dariya snarled and punched at the wall, the brick crumbling beneath her fist as she swore.

The Italian was gone, she couldn't detect him at all, and come to think of it she hadn't been able to before either. Not sight and not scent... Still growling, she grabbed the cell phone from her pocket and dialed Escalona. When he picked up, she spoke into the phone, trying to supress the growl to her voice.

"It's Dariya.... you need to get back here right NOW!"

Calming slightly as she slowy and methodically supressed her rage, she snapped the phone shut and stood near the mouth of the alley, staring with her eyes wide at the inferno as the pieces of building smoldered in front of her. What in the hell had just happened? Well she knew the obvious. The building had exploded but how had the Italian done it? Too bad she didn't understand the language....

Gabriel licked the blood from his lips. He couldn't think of a more fitting way to use Father Conrad Burton. A distraction would be quite nice. After all, it wasn't every day a crazy celebrity gets killed in his own home.

"Right about....now."

He saw the explosion before he heard it, considering that it was several miles away. It had blown up in the down town area, and probably killed somewhere in the tens of people, not that Gabriel cared how many people died. But they weren't really in the way of his objective, and it was such a waste of blood.

"Now, how to go about getting into this mansion......"

Shrugging his shoulders, Gabriel decided to go in for a far more barbaric, although simpler, way. He approached the gate, which was attended by a human, but nobody could tell exactly who they were, considering the fact that it was a one-way mirror. A snotty voice came out of a speaker near the gate.

"Name please?"

Gabriel smiled at the mirror. He wondered how long it would take the attendee to recognize what was going on.

"Gabriel Diovosky. I'm here on appointment."

He heard a sigh from the microphone, along with a puff of smoke.

"Lemme just see about this...appointment...hey, what the hell are you doing?"

Two shots hit the attendee, one in the heart, and the other in the head. Gabriel looked inside the now shattered mirror. A dead woman, in her forties and quite overweight, lay dead. She had died before she hit the ground. Gabriel picked up one of the pieces of mirror, and looked at the non-existant reflection.

"Looking good Gabriel....Hahaha!"

Gripping the gates with one hand, he pulled, ripping them and parts of the fence along with it. He radioed Spookhouse headquarters one last time before he went in.

"This is Agent Diovosky. I'm just letting you know, that I'm approaching the target. If you don't want me to kill humans, then you shouldn't have sent me, because nothing in that building is getting out alive."

With his friendly check in made, Gabriel proceeded into the Mansion of Law Sype.