New York City - New York - Earth

Vincent's heavily pierced ears twitched at the sound of a hammer pulling behind him and just barely turned his head so he could out of the corner of his eyes. Yuna stood, gun pointed in his direction for a moment, but then she lowered it, as if there were no threat whatsoever.

But, why?

Then he saw her lips move and followed their unheard words. "Riku", stood out and then he realized who the man was. How stupid, of course he recognized him now. He looked rather different, but then again it had been a month and some weeks since he had been in any of the true gatherings. So much had happened, so much had changed, he found it difficult to care and many of his fellow Depictioners looked alike to him. He typically just asked to see their mark.

His eyes narrowed when he noted that Jeremy had moved, and what was worse, he held something far more deadly in his hands than a gun. He had a phone...
Vincent knew all too well what could be being brought down on them right now, but before he could voice it, Riku's voice drifted through his ears.
He looked back at the man, a saddened look on his face that begged forgiveness as he lowered his heavy pistol. He did not, however, put it away. No, he knew this was a bad moment to let his guard down.

He took a few quick steps towards Abi and Riku before turning to face Yuna and Jeremy.
Something was going down now, he knew they were in trouble. His instincts had always served him well, and they screamed, "Trouble", at the moment, they roared at him to flee as this was going to be tough, and he couldn't fight if he were dead. But he would not run, he had at least two people here to defend. He had to correct his error with Riku, and keep Abi from harm. She was so small and innocent compared to the rest of them, in his eyes at least, and he would not allow so much as a scratch upon her flesh.

"Do not speak to me like I'm a child again Domino... My apologies for the gun, It's been too long and I did not recognize you.", he whispered harshly to the man as he squared himself, checking down both sides of the corner before leveling his eyes upon Jeremy, his only true enemy here.

The gun in his hand cried for blood, and his fists pleaded for combat, and he was sure it would soon be upon him.

"Abi!", he said in his harsh voice, all but the barest hint of kindness having bled from it long ago. "Shit is about to get real fuckin' hairy in a few moments...stay behind me like I said and shout for me if anyone touches you...if things get too hairy, pick left or right and start running, I'll be on your heels. ...Same goes for you Dom."

'Domino'

"I get it, V. Really, I do. You've had shit of your own to deal with. But I doubt I will run. I am not some coward who has to get others to fight his battles.", Riku directed the last part of his statement towards Jeremy, who he had seen using his phone. He knew full well what was going to happen and, despite his avoidance of combat, he knew that Vincent would have a hard timeif every Hound went on the prowl. Even V couldn't deal with that. Riku's priority was making sure Abi got somewhere safe, and it seeemed that Vincent shared that goal. That was good, he would rather have The Heretic as an ally than many of the others. Vincent was unstable, especially now, but he could more than hold his own in a fight, and was loyal enough to those he fought alongside. Both good traits, and another reason Riku admired him. This would be tough, but no more than a normal fight against the Hounds. Riku had enough battle scars of his own from previous bouts. What harm could a few more do?

The gun was lowered. That threat was gone. Abi's breath escaped her lungs in a large gust, a relieved sigh. Even when it wasn't pointed at her, having the barrel of a gun pointed in her direction wasn't the most calming of situations. For one thing, watching someone you know, someone who didn't deserve it, being riddled with bloody holes wasn't all that great. And she'd been standing right next to the man, and guns weren't always of the truest shot. Especially when the owner of the gun didn't seem to be the most stable man in the entire universe. It was good and all that he seemed to want to protect her, after all, that was what Abi wanted, protection from potential threats, but not that way. Not a gun pulled out at the slightest hint of danger. Did protection always require a weapon? Because that was one thing Abi didn't own. Oh, sure she had the defense basics, She knew where to hit someone to give her enough time to make an escape, she had pepper spray in her purse, and she could run alright, but that wasn't the same. And it did no good against a Hound with a gun. Or anyone with a gun for that matter.

The woman jumped when her name burbled harshly from the tall man's lips, knowing that something else was coming. Half her mind couldn't help but think wearily, Meine Gott, what now? Why did she have to run into the fellow Depictioner. If she'd picked a different path or waited just five minutes none of this would have happened. Typical.

"O-okay." She forced out with a nod, looking up at the tall man and attempting to steel herself. a sigh again heaved from her lungs as she tried to calm herself. She took a half step, more of a shuffle, closer to Vincent, mostly for the comfort of having someone that much taller than her close than anything else. She clenched her hands into fists and swallowed hard. Gott, she wasn't cut out for this kind of stuff. She was just a girl who liked to paint and create. Why did there have to be so much to go through just to have that? Why did people have to die like that poor girl had? Abi shuddered slightly at the though. That was one thing that she didn't want to do at this point in her life. Die.

May "Paint Bucket" Hitch

May brushed her hair back with the back of her hand even with all the un-dried paint on it because she didn't care if paint got on her face because it was her pride to be messy for her it was the symbol of because a street artiste. She was satisfied with her work and she chucked the empty spray bottles under a bush but kept the others is her very large trouser pockets even if the bottles were barely full.

Then she observed Danny, he was always such a mysterious guy which she thought was a amazingly sexy, but it was also what she didn't like about the guy. He was so mysterious that she knew he obviously had problems but didn't want to share them and she always had the urge to ask his but she had to hold it all in. She knew it was his manly pride to not speak of his problems and she didn't want to offend him in any way so she would always just quietly stand next to him or look at him.

"Yeah," she twirled on her heels and walked away from her new work of art that she now had burned into her memory and she followed Danny away, "I'll take that bet!"

She ran up to Danny and nicely kicked him in the but then turned around still jogging backwards to stick her tongue out at him. Her days were the best, she didn't care about money problems or living in such a small apartment, because she didn't need fancy things to live a great life. She needed art, friends, and a whole lot of fun.

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

One blue eye fluttered open. It found a large green eye starting back at it. Markus jerked up, knocking Margo from his chest. "Ai, Margo, don't stare at me like that. It makes me feel like you're trying to eat my soul." The man shook himself, jerking sleep from the very core of his body. What time was it?

Bzzzzt...Bzzt...Bzzzzt

And what was that sound? Blinking the sweet film of sleep from his eyes, Markus searched the tiny table next to the couch for his phone. And knocked it off. The black chunk of wired metal thunked on the floor, almost blending in with the dark carpet. The carpet he'd managed to turn black. It hadn't come that way. The original color had been a ugly brown, but Mark found it easier to hide a mess when the Carpet was darker. Well, unless it was a light colored mess. But black cat equaled black fur, so black carpet was the next logical step. Mark shot a look at Margo, who was staring back at him from her new spot on his knees. "Hey, Margo. Fetch." He said. He could almost see her eyebrow raise. I don't think so. her entire expression told him.

Ah, felines. They never did anything to make themselves worth keeping, but Markus couldn't help but love the slender pitch cat. She flicked her tail at him and blinked slowly. Mark rolled his eyes and sighed. Well then. He stretched down to get his phone, and the slight animal leaped from his lap onto the floor, stalking away as the man overbalanced at the sudden loss of ten pounds from his knees and joined his phone on the floor. "Damn you, Margo. You did that on purpose!" He called after the retreating tail. "For that I'm not gonna feed you until lunchtime, so there!" A slight smile lifted his face however. Ah, it was rather sad to say, but the cat was his favorite companion in the world. And she seemed to like him alright as well.

Mark flipped open his phone, the old piece of junk that it was, and found it to be much later that he would have liked. And that he had a new message. "Oh, hello, what is this?" he said to himself, looking at the sender's number. That sequence certainly heralded something interesting. Because usually one didn't get texts from Jeremy. Especially when one wasn't any kind of officer or anything. Just a member too lazy to do anything but hang around, deface some walls now and again.

Oh, that meant trouble. Depictioners downtown. Three, all perhaps trouble enough for Jeremy to request back-up. First thing Mark did was forward the message to all the Hounds he had on his phone, which weren't many, and then to pull on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. No need to go fancy. Of course, he did need some metal. More specifically, he needed his gun. His hand jumped slightly when he picked it up, but his grip stayed firm enough for Mark to keep his hold on the weapon. "Not now, you better not start that up now." He sternly told his hand. Margo stretched on his leg, her paws reaching the pocket of his jeans. She gave a curling mewl of question, but Mark brushed her off. "I'll play with you later, Mar, but right now I have other things to do. Don't open anything, don't eat the drapes, got it?" He told her, giving his friend and ear scratched before relocating her to the couch.

Time to go have some fun. even if the message had just said to scout and not make an appearance. Something good was bound to happen. Mark legged his way to where the text had told him the Depictioners would be, and stretching, he mapped the scene from the corner of the street, out of the sight line of the three Ds. He spotted Jeremy, and a young woman standing near him. Ah, four Depictioners, not three. there was the little German one, there was the crazy Heretic one who Mark had to give props to for being, well, him, even if he was a Depictioner, and there was the Riku guy, as well as the woman, Yuma, or something like that. They seemed to be a bit tense, and the German seemed to be cowed, hiding behind the much taller man who seemed to be prepared to fight at any moment.

What to do, what to do?

Jeremy Cyrway

He had slipped his phone back into his pocket. Although he was sure that he had been watching a scene of amusement in which confusion and misplaced provoking actions were being placed among Depictioners, Jeremy was quite surprised to find himself in a tight situation again. It's just that his stony face wasn't ready to show so. As soon as he noticed that his seemingly supposed quiet motion on his phone was already detected, he hadn't braced himself just yet. And then, Vincent turned around with gun in hand still. Ah, damn. Again with being pointed at with a gun.

He watched the expressions, quiet and urgent whispering. It was getting tense. Yuna was quiet too, and it more than likely that she was catching on that he was being seen as a threat, and was probably thinking of all possibilities of whether to take action or stand ground. Despite her poor shooting, he knew that she'd get him from here. Standing at least 5 feet away was an easy thing. Especially for the Vincent fellow, he reminded himself.

Jeremy had a turning motion, playing moron, turning his head like he was some innocent bystander that was scared to be slaughtered by obvious wolves.. Well, wolf. It was rather an ironic situation, considering his past brawls and street fights, but he was sure that his facial expression wouldn't pass for something like pathetic as that. More likely as a defensive precautionary stance, perhaps. He had been turning his head, taking a step back just in case, he made to quickly dart his eyes over the area. Already, there were a few Hounds that were quietly hiding, on rooftops, behind walls and the like. Then he blinked, and they had disappeared. At least they were following orders. He mused, that they were gonna laugh at him at how pitiful he must've seemed, being surrounded by Depictioners and not being able to stand up to them. The brave ones would anyway, not it'd matter. Jeremy'd toss them in front of this Vincent Heretic guy, and see how they'd feel under the stare of what could've been a cold blooded murderer. If he had been told that the guy had previously killed before, it wouldn't have surprised him.

He didn't smile. His hands were up, but they were slightly raised, to try to show he was harmless. The lies of it.

"Whoaaa there. Crank your scary back up there man, I ain't gonna shank ya or pop a cap at you," he let his vocabulary that been picked up from traveling around the Apple flow freely. Being a freelance tattoo artist by day, it gave him the opportunity by being exposed to so many people in the Apple, having their own words became meshed into his own. Though he probably sounded completely not like himself, especially at this time of day, seeing as he had an education after all, it was rather sad to see it being wasted by using slang. Like how it was every night he went out to punch someone's face in, or spray upon the walls with his pent up feelings. But being proper about his words probably wasn't gonna save his life, so, what the hell. Let'er the ol' unorthodox brawler Jeremy out.

He might as well enjoy himself, shouldn't he?


Jeong-Yun "Yuna" Choi

Yuna had kept the gun down, but she had pulled off the safety latch. There probably wasn't going to be a need to keep the restraint on, seeing as where this was going. That is, when she finally caught on whatever the hell was happening right now. Her eyes were darting between Jeremy and Vincent slowly. Her bemused expression was plain obvious. Her usual stoic and collected look was long gone now. This tense atmosphere wasn't good. If only she knew the reason, though.

She didn't understand. What was it that she didn't know, that the others knew? Why were the other Depictioners getting all defensive, or on Vincent's partake, offensive, all of a sudden? Was it Jeremy? Was did he do? These questions were running through her brain over and over. Her eyes looked over to Jeremy. What was it about him that she didn't know? He was her close friend, so there were few things that she didn't know. Being friends of about 5.. 7? years had a lot of time to know each other and bond the way they've done.

Her eyes took sight of an unfamiliar face peeking on the scene. Most likely a Hound. Was that why Vincent was taking yet another predatory stance? Why direct towards Jeremy? Hopelessly lost in the situation, she glanced towards Jeremy, who didn't look back. She looked towards Vincent, who seemed focused on Jeremy instead.

"Whoaaa there. Crank your scary back up there man, I ain't gonna shank ya or pop a cap at you," he let his vocabulary that been picked up from traveling around the Apple flow freely.

Since when the hell did Jeremy talk like that? Her grip on the gun tightened and her eyes narrowed, showing her displeased face. If someone did not tell her what the bloody hell was going on right the bloody hell now, she swore that she was gonna have to shoot something in the head, because it was getting extremely agitating not knowing. Especially when she was stuck in the middle of a battle ground of one side, a Vincent Mornnis, and on the other, a Jeremy Cyrway. Adding in the endless questions that were arising with each passing moment, Yuna did not only felt helpless, at a lost on what to do, but rather friggin' pissed that she didn't know how to answer herself. No one else seemed ready to help clear anything up either. She cursed harshly under her breath in something incomprehensible.