F13: IC

Crooked Thoughts · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Crooked Thoughts** on Wed Jul 13, 2011 6:30 pm

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - Huis Clos
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 11:57:24 P.M.
Asher “Perish” Faust & Fenris

A sword: its blade scratched and jagged, with duct tape on the hilt to hold the dirty cloth in place and a gun: old and in bad shape, with a frightening appearance and mysterious history; this is what passed for Asher's equipment. It wasn't much, but both had seen to the end of many who thought to oppose him. Both have been in his possession since the beginning of his career and will be till the end.

As Father Peter started talking, Asher turned around briefly to acknowledge him before going back to work. He made sure his sword was sheathed tightly, and then adjusted the strap to his back. After making sure he could remove the sword without interference, his pistol maintenance was next. He loaded it, checked the sights, then cleaned it and made sure it fired properly; not in that order, though. He shoved the gun inside his custom holster, which was designed for a snug fit. This allowed for his weapon to stay secure during any movement he might make, but could be removed with just a pull, without undoing a strap.

Once he was finished, he made sure Fenris was ready as well. Asher had often thought about making her wear armor, but she always refused. She would claw and gnaw on the straps, until he finally gave in and took it off. He figured this was because the metal interfered with the way she was used to doing battle; probably slowed her down and such. Smiling at her, he scratched behind her right ear (her favorite spot) before moving on.

It was at this time, a woman entered. He was watched her from the mirrors in the bar, acting as if he was still busy getting ready. Asher recognized the intruder as Isra, his inside contact. As far as he could tell, she was just an innocent girl looking for a safe way out for her brother and herself. But, looks could be deceiving, though she has helped him this far, so maybe he was being too cautious?

She ignored everyone else, as she made her way towards him, “Mr. Faust?” The girl asked, tugging on his shirt sleeve. Only then, did Asher acknowledge her. He turned and his eyes meet hers and widened, to say “Yes?” Her words were whispers, just loud enough for him hear. “I'm the secretary you spoke to. Please...if you want to fix this, you really must hurry. They're running late--it was supposed to finish by now, but they've already begun and I've no idea how much longer it will take.” Asher nodded and started to move away when she added another note. “And please...even though he might be angry, you mustn't hurt him, the one we spoke of!” He looked back at her, with strong, soul piercing eyes only to be met with two green eyes, full of apprehension and guilt. Exhaling heavily, he nodded once more and continued; it was the least he could do...

“Ok, everyone follow me, it’s time to leave.”

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - The Ghost Tower
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 12:01:00 P.M.
Asher “Perish” Faust & Fenris and Isra

Asher looked back as they marched in a disorganized mass, now one short of a soldier. Someone had taken him up on his offer to leave: a young, gun slinging, devil hunter of a woman named Raven Moreau also known as Black Rose. It seemed this was too much for her or maybe she had unfinished business, either way she had disappeared without saying a thing to anyone. He wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed or even cared, but he did. She was useful; they could have used her talents, not to mention they now packed less of a punch. But, that was that, he wouldn't dwell on it any further.

However, he did hope she wasn't stuck in one of the restroom stalls... The building was surely on fire by now. That was the final and last order he had given the bar owner as he paid him and the staff. It was a bad way to go: trapped in a filthy bar restroom; the smell of burning shit must be horrid...

It didn't take them long to reach their destination, a large building just around the corner from the bar. He had no idea this was the place, he had passed this building by a million times and never paid any attention to it. Fucking appearances... Asher thought as he shook his head.

“Here,” Isra murmured, pressing a note into Asher's hand. “I'm sorry, but I can't help you once we're inside.” He looked down at the note, studied it a bit before looking back to her. But, she was gone. In the time it took him to unfold the piece of paper, the woman had vanished, slipping through the doors of the tower. After reading the note, he shoved it deep within his jean pockets and pressed forward.

“Father Peter, Andras, Rachel, and Alice; you will be with me. Mr. Ballester, you will be leading team two which consists of: Mrs. Gage, Serggeo, Alex, and Adelaide.” Asher waited for everyone to group up and recognizes the people they will be getting familiar with while in the building. “Needless to say, we will be splitting up; our objective is at the top of the building. We are here to stop an ancient ritual from taking place, we already late, so move with haste. Kill anything that stands in your way. Good luck to you all.” Short, simple, and to the point, he couldn't be more clear with their instructions and what they were here for. But, Asher would still wait to see if there were any questions and allow people to get their mind set for what was to come. Then, they would head into the belly of the beast.

Smokescreen · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Smokescreen** on Fri Jul 15, 2011 11:39 am

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - Huis Clos
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 2358:01hrs
Peter Kasprivev

There seemed to be an air of anticipation lingering in the bar. It wasn’t a crushing dread but a more whimsical zephyr listing lazily from person to person. Peter put most of his concentration on his drink; surly there had to be a hole in the glass after all he was meeting these that would be his allies for the first time and he took a bottle, whilst everyone else was content with a single serving. It reminded him of that charming Father Michael from Boston who whilst coaching softball for his parish, would scream in that grating Irish accent of his; 'go big or go home' to the rosy cheeked pre-pubescents as they would fumble over the game making it a rather boring experience for those without the burden of children. Peter did make a note of the time it was encroaching the witching hour and if anything detrimental to their success, any ill omen that would perhaps beckon it would be at that time.

He felt eyes on him. Peter was surprised to see it was the dark haired lycanthrope that had her gaze on him. Perhaps his forthcoming attitude was going to be an olive branch after all, she would waltz over and hundreds of white doves would ascend and promptly be killed by accent fans. But Peter had a sobering thought; white doves also fluttered in John Woo films before twin-wielded nine millimetres are unleashed. And indeed, with the thought of an oriental gun battle; the woman was next to him, though he did not notice her move. "Gabh mo leithscéal" The woman said. He blinked. If it were not for his remembrance earlier and subsequent reflection about drunken Irishmen at a wake singing and talking in what to Peter was a sadly foreign and strange tongue, he would have dismissed the blurb as some sort of Were-hex or curse. "I am Rachel and I couldn't help but notice your- unease of my presence." He appreciated the woman's candour. Speaking with him directly was a big step. Perhaps that ability to change into an otherworldly being gave one such a confidence "I wish to hold you to what you say and that you do not judge who you do not know too harshly despite their misfortunes."

Peter smiled. This one was different wasn't she? What stood before him was not the monster he witnessed twenty some years ago. This one had personality and God save him for saying, emotion. He took the woman's hand to complete the handshake. "Mae Govannen. I'm afraid that is all I know of Gaelic and I believe I can also say 'over there' which doesn't really fit in this conversation. At least I hope that's right...I intended to say nice to meet you...but I could have said something awful. One should never speak..." the man stopped talking realising that he still held the woman's hand. Peter dropped it suddenly and continued. "My name is Piotr, but Peter is the Anglican version and will suffice. It is nice to meet you, I must confess I had a troubling experience with lycanthropes in my youth and that experience has taken on a sort of nightmarish manifestation."

He was sure that his verbose nature was unsavoury to some people…Peter was several times told he rambled, he always felt he had much to say. "I was honest in what I said. I don't plan to pass judgement on you or any other for their infliction. I will however, judge by merit; as of now Rachel you are simply a lovely woman with a cavalier attitude and a wonderful taste in alcoholic beverages." Peter smiled. " But if you excuse me I must make water." The man stood and walked towards the back wondering if it would be a wise decision to break the seal and be rushing for the bathroom all night. Rushing. That reminded him of an old joke he couldn't really remember, something like when you are heading for the toilet your Russian and when you are there, European. Silly joke. The Urinals in the bathroom stood against the wall like porcelain soldiers. The bathroom was nice for a men's lavatory; it didn't smell like piss. After finishing he washed his hands and stared in the mirror at a man that though concrete in his faith, saw the wrongness in condemning those like Rachel, like the others to die simply because they are deemed evil. It would be something he would change.

Upon exiting he heard Faust say it was time to go. There was a woman with him whom Peter did not recognise from the table. Lord, had he been in there so long? He poured another drink, one for the road as it were and finished it. There was so little left in the bottle he felt awful to waste it. He looked around as everyone was busy preparing their accoutrements and put the bottle to his lips and drank. "Leave none for the devil." He said to no one. He had little to organize -- simply he must grab his bag and place it on his shoulder. The benefits of being a self-contained weapon.

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - The Ghost Tower
Wednesday, July 20, 2011, 0003:14hrs
Peter Kasprivev

The stroll to wherever they were headed was a pleasant one. There was a spring in Peter's step and song in his heart. To him this was simply another battle, another evil who did not know their place. But he had confidence the group would prevail. Their destination looked to be just a random building; a simple façade that was employed on at least a hundred other buildings. Peter felt a little cheated. He want the place to be a castle...oh it had been years since doing battle in a castle. Faust split them in groups; Peter was happy with his assemblage. Faust, the half demon and Rachel would be heavy hitters that left him and the sheepish blonde girl whom he really did not notice at the bar, for support. At least he assumed as such. There he went, judging books by covers. Perhaps it was only he that would support them. Peter would take up that mantle as he did so many times before. Faust spoke of a ritual in this very building. He was vague about the mission and general in his orders. Peter liked things a little more planned...but if nothing Peter was adaptable.

He offered a little prayer before he spoke to Faust. Walking over to the man he acknowledged Rachel. "Seems fate is not without a sense of humour in placing us together...God be with you, may he instil you with ferocity and composure." He made the sign of the cross and continued to Faust. "I worry that perhaps you know more than you let on. If you do, that is simply your prerogative but I don't want to feel you are keeping secrets from those that would be your allies. I've worked with you before," Peter took out his pack of cigarettes and placed a smoke in his mouth. He pulled out his lighter and it flipped open with a metallic clink. In lighting his cigarette he looked at Faust and closed his lighter. " You know, forget I said anything. This is about faith; we do not know what is around every corner. I believe you will lead us to victory. May God grant you solidarity in mind and strength in sinew, may death fall at your feet like threshed grain. Pax vobiscum." Peter had a way of placing his faith within those that squandered it. He hoped he had not made the same mistake in Asher Faust for this lapse of judgement could very well end in Peter's death.

Leli · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Leli** on Fri Jul 15, 2011 4:35 pm

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - Somewhere Downtown
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, Immediately before and after the arson of Huis Clos

An apology on behalf of others; this man was like a pope. Claiming to reserve judgment, and denoting the actions of the other members of his sect and it itself as close minded. He wasn’t like that though, so everything would be fine right? Not if Marcus had any word of it. He’d heard the religious prater before, from priests and common people alike whom all claimed that they ‘aren’t like them’, or that ‘I’m not like that’. At least there was some merit to their words; those who claimed they held no prior opinion were worse than the people who joyfully boasted theirs. “You aren’t close minded like them? Ha!” It was only muttered, but Marcus made sure the religious man had heard him.

“Gimme a scotch, and don’t be smart about it.”

By the holy lord in heaven these waitresses were annoying. They had a strong English accent when they spoke and though it normally wouldn’t have been a matter of importance the response to his demand for liquor with a ‘Quoi?’ drove Marcus mad. After all he hadn’t left the table and found his way to the bar for lip, he wanted a drink to cure his shakes.

“Colice de St Mary, J’te dit que je veut un fucking scotch! Etes-vous fucking stupid?”

Canadian hospitality at its best.

The woman pleasantly took offence, or at least seemed to from her response of practically throwing a pint towards Marcus. Catching the bottle he made his way back towards the rest of the group, smiling while the skank as she denounced him as an asshole, in English before leaving in tow of the others to another room. Halting before rejoining the group and remaining in earshot Marcus opted to listen in on them. He wasn’t like the priest; he didn’t care if there was an exception he still had beliefs about everyone that he would stand by until the next time he died.

Faust addressed the knights, detailing their quest and who the evil forces were and that their lives may be in danger. “Fantastic, I’ll die at the hands of some devil instead of at the feet of a stubborn soul.”

Whatever the quest it held no true interest in Marcus, it was the mediator of his remaining life, or what you could call a life, that demanded he aid the mysterious fellow that only a while ago had pointed a gun at his head. However, something had caught his interest: his company. Among the ranks was a priest that apologized for others, an old woman, two vampires, which Marcus discovered through clever deception, otherwise, known as eavesdropping. He was unsure of the rest of them, but they didn’t seem to be all that special.

They carried on and Marcus busied himself watching the king; he stood checking his weapons outside the circle of his knights. Compelled to watch as Faust finished fitting the sash around his waist tightly as not to lose his gun during a fight something seemed off. He looked shaken; not for a moment longer than a breath had his hands stopped moving, but not knowing the man personally it may have been normal for him to busy his hands. Being a smoker it would certainly made sense, but this image of Faust was hardly reminiscent of the man who had pressed a gun towards Marcus’ head at a traffic stop not too long ago.

Before anything could be said to their leader the group was off. Marcus hardly had a chance to react. He'd reached towards Faust as the door opened, but stood back as the woman beelined towards Faust. “Damn.” He muttered in what was becoming a fashionable response for the old timer. The girl tugged on his sleeve, addressing him as mister and driving a hushed laugh out of Marcus. She was like a child asking a stranger for help finding her lost doll. The rest of her words were inaudible among the music that flowed from the bar, but it was made clear by Faust that it was time to leave the bar.

As the twelve left the bar Marcus nestled aside the only other senior, or did his best too. She was the only one that seemed to be taking everything in instead of mingling. Well of course other than him, but she wasn’t cranky about it like Marcus was.

The walk to their destination had barely begun before they abruptly stopped. Some more words were said from the new girl to Faust before she disappeared into the night. Now there were only eleven.

“Father Peter, Andras, Rachel, and Alice; you will be with me. Mr. Ballester, you will be leading team two which consists of: Mrs. Gage, Serggeo, Alex, and Adelaide.”

Taken aback it took a moment just long enough for Faust to finish speaking for Marcus to respond. “You can’t expect me to lead a team into this shit-hole. Look at them! There’s three teenage brats and an elderly woman – no offence miss.” He made sure to add rather than incur the wrath of the only other person he thought he might relate with. “Hell I don’t even have a gun, what do you want me to do if something tried to eat me? Punch it? Yell at it about how gas prices have gone up too much and the good old days?” It wasn’t the fear of an unknown enemy that bothered Marcus. He’d fought the souls of men that had led hundreds to their deaths without much problem, but he did not wish to hold the lives of others in his hands. “At least give us your dog to bite the suns of bitches.”

Apollymi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Apollymi** on Sat Jul 16, 2011 9:46 am

Modern Earth – New York City, New York
Manhattan – Huis Clos
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 11:31:24 P.M.
Rachel Elizabeth Kerr

H e truly was a strange fellow. He looked like a Priest, but did not really smell like one. The heavy smell of smoke hung heavy on him and he drank enough liquor that Rachel felt like she could get tipsy just standing too close to him. “Mae Govannen. I'm afraid that is all I know of Gaelic and I believe I can also say 'over there' which doesn't really fit in this conversation. At least I hope that's right...I intended to say nice to meet you...but I could have said something awful. One should never speak..." He paused mid-sentence and in a very quick motion he looked at their hands and quickly dropped hers. Rachel raised a brow at his action but allow him to continue. "My name is Piotr, but Peter is the Anglican version and will suffice. It is nice to meet you, I must confess I had a troubling experience with lycanthropes in my youth and that experience has taken on a sort of nightmarish manifestation."

You think you has a troubling experience with a lycan? Rachel clenched her jaw and ground her teeth slightly trying to keep her words to herself which was not one of her strengths. As Peter rambled on Rachel slowly counted to ten in her head, doing her best to listen to what he was saying. He was being very kind and even complimented her, but he already had a strike against him. "Aineolas," Rachel sighed as the man turned and practically ran to the bathroom. Placing her scared right hand on her hip she looked over the room again and saw the male vampire smile and nod to her.

Instead of blowing him off, Rachel returned the smile and nodded back to him. She herself was never fond of the lifeless beings, but since she would have to learn to work with them she might as well start off on the right foot. As the time passed Rachel slowly made her way around the bar. She was taking in the sound of every body’s voice, their smells and doing her best to figure out what they were. Finally she came to Faust. He was methodically checking his equipment. A few moments passed and Rachel picked up on very light footsteps approaching.

Rachel narrowed her eyes and moved to lean against the hardwood bar. Folding her arms over her chest she closed her eyes and listened. ”Mr.Faust? I’m the secretary you spoke to. Please, if you want to fix this, you really must hurry. They’re running late--it was supposed to finish by now, but they've already begun and I've no idea how much longer it will take. And please...even though he might be angry, you mustn't hurt him, the one we spoke of! Rachel opened her eyes slowly and watched as Faust and the woman stared at each other. Clear conflict passing through Faust’s dark eyes then he let out a breath and nodded.

”Ok, everyone follow me, it’s time to leave.”

Modern Earth – New York City, New York
Manhattan – Approaching their Destination
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 11:59:07 P.M.
Rachel Elizabeth Kerr

I t was a rather fast walk. Everyone moving at a relatively fast pace. She was sure that if anyone saw this group walking together, they were either be laughed at or given a very wide berth. As the group followed after Faust, Rachel drifted over to the male vampire. She looked up at him and held her left hand out to him as they walked. I noticed that you are from Ireland, the close Rachel got to him, the stronger the smell of roses became. It was a strange thing to her really but at least he didn’t reek of death. But there was a very feint scent of blood whenever he exhaled or spoke. ”Me name is Rachel. I was born in Kerry.”

A few moments later the group came to a halt and Faust was breaking them all off into groups. Pausing and looked over at the dark man she nodded when she heard her name and turned to the vampire again. It was a pleasure talking with you. Go dtí an chéad uair eile.

Turning, Rachel made her way over to Faust and found Peter again. "Seems fate is not without a sense of humor in placing us together...God be with you, may he instill you with ferocity and composure." At that comment Rachel curled her lip.

”Sorry to say Peter. God hasn’t been with me since the night I was attacked.”

Averagebear · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Averagebear** on Sun Jul 17, 2011 12:47 am

Modern Earth -- New York City, New York
Manhattan -- Huis Clos
Tuesday, July 19, 2011 -- 11:56:21 P.M.
Adelaide Adams

An eerie smile not unlike a crescent moon spun itself upon the silky face of the vampire woman. "Where were...what...heh, what I mean is, why did ya leave? I thought--well, you didn't even finish teaching me how to fly! Do you realized how many times I smashed face-first into a building?" the beautiful man had stammered at her, pretty emotions flashy across his face in fleeting moments. A giggle erupted from the pit of her smooth belly and spilled into the bar's air like carbon monoxide gas. She reveled in seeing the man emote so much, seeing as he was normally a sarcastic stoic ass. She wondered for a second if he'd gone soft without her taunting to callous him, or if this was a particularly special occasion. Either way, it was smashing fun. He placed the lollipop on her knee and she instantly claimed it, popping it inside the warm sheath that was her mouth and savoring the flavors as she stood up alongside Alex.

"Mmm," she hummed vaguely, as if such a response was perfectly appropriate. After a moment of fiddling with the ornaments on the table, she pierced her gaze back to the man. Dear lord, had he always been this tall? She was forced to peer up at him through her fanning lashes. This all felt so familiar yet so alien. "Well..." But what could she tell him? She wasn't accustomed to explaining her antics at all. She squirmed under the pressure as they exited the building. It wasn't until they were walking that she peeped up. "My clan was mad at me for running away and brought me back to England." she said simply, a frown tugging at her rosy lips. In truth, it hadn't been nearly so simple as that. But the two vampires were notorious for having unspoken conversations, single sentences saying so much more. She didn't bother explain any further for the time being. Perhaps he'd ask another time and she'd answer, but the exploitation of the truth was not something Adelaide was most talented at.

In reality, her clan had been furious at her unspoken disappearance and her spontaneous trip to America. They certainly didn't approve of her taking a fledgling under her wing, telling her she was sticking her nose in other vampires' business. They all warned her of the territorial nature of some sires, and chided at her for being so irresponsible. It didn't seem to matter to them that she was coupling rather well with another creature, let alone that she'd found a source of continuous entertainment and happiness. "Crisis, you have enough toys at home. You are not permitted to see this man again." she mimicked in her mind the voice of her clan leader, Damian, in a hyper-gruff voice. A victory all its own shot through her like lightning as she realized that she'd found a loop hole! All of them had been very supporting of her joining Mister in his mission, so she'd basically gotten the permission to disobey them. This thought ravished her so dearly she could positively squeal with delight.

"It's really lovely to see you, Alexander. I'm excited to see how much you've... grown since the last I've saw you." she said this in the short time slot in which she had slid the blowpop out from between her lips and when she had placed it right back in again. A deliciously coy smirk slipped into its designated place at her own statement, eying him with devilry heavy in her persona. He did appear to be exponentially more powerful than when she had last seen him. She couldn't help but to contemplate what else, exactly, had changed. It was no stretch to say that the man intrigued her.

Modern Earth -- New York City, New York
Manhattan -- The Ghost Tower
Tuesday, July 19, 2011 -- 12:02:33 P.M.
Adelaide Adams

The walk itself was extremely short, though pretty interesting nonetheless with their ragtag team and the peculiar explosion of the bar they'd just inhabited. The smell of the smoke insulted her senses and made her wrinkle her nose. Such things might hinder her ability to sense demons through scent a bit, which was unfortunate. Oh, how she despised fire. Though she didn't vocalize it at all, she was writhing in her little boots with the thought of it being so dangerously close to her. It was perhaps her one and only fear and she involuntarily gulped, her stride losing its perkiness entirely. Any being with ultra senses would tell she was on edge, but anyone else would probably be unaware of her growing fear. They stopped at a shady building- one that Adelaide didn't feel particularly inclined to enter. Of course, she didn't have much of a choice if she intended to stay apart of this crew for a very long time. They were split into groups and Adelaide found herself feeling either apathetic or pleased about who she was paired with. “You can’t expect me to lead a team into this shit-hole. Look at them! There’s three teenage brats and an elderly woman – no offense miss.”

"Damn geezer, I'll have you know I'm two hundred and-" she began but she was cut off by her own interest in what he had to say after that. More snarky remarks that didn't fail to make her snort. She decided she'd simply drop it. He was interesting enough, and she would no doubtably get her sweet revenge for his pokes by the end of their voyage together. Adelaide had an uncanny ability to wreak harmless havoc upon those she surrounded herself with, and she'd probably hassle him enough for a lifetime if they would work together for an extended period of time. Besides, she enjoyed his cynicism. And she was most definitely used to not being a leader- that was left to her elder vampiric companions. His insulting comment only made him the victim of future harassment, and Adelaide's next target to annoy. For now, she simply hummed to herself, swaying back and forth and staring at the ominous building. Oh, she hoped she could kill something tonight. After the tasty human snack from earlier, she was very excited to led the crimson beads fly from her enemies. The hairs on her arms and neck began to raise at the thought, eyes glowing. Her eyes flicked to the smoke billowing out not far from them and she shuffled restlessly, her instincts to devour and destroy sedated by her worry. Oh dear, this wouldn't do.

Kurokiku · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kurokiku** on Sun Jul 17, 2011 7:34 pm

Modern Earth – New York City – New York
Manhattan – The Ghost Tower
Wednesday, July 20, 2011, 12:03:13 a.m.
Alice Cross

Alice had not really done much besides concentrate on the ground directly in front of her, trying not to trip over anything in the dark. She hated the dark; she couldn’t see terribly well in it, and it just increased the likelihood of complete and utter disaster. Like tripping over her feet and into someone else, probably pushing at least one other person into the path of oncoming traffic and damaging the car and the other people in it should anyone happen to have the absurd levels of durability she figured they did. Then the police would come, and there would be questions, and everyone would get discovered and it would be all her fault.

So she placed her steps carefully, trailing behind their odd guide and wondering just who this person was that she was so desperate to protect. She supposed it must be family or something; those were the people that caused that level of desperation in others. Well, they and lovers, she supposed, depending on the circumstances.

The group of them pulled up in front of a building, and Alice had a hard time focusing on it for long enough to form a clear picture of it in her mind. Eventually she got one, though, but the difficulty which she encountered in storing it away for alter reference was most peculiar. Her memory was, literally, perfect, so it was deeply disturbing to have to focus this hard on a mere façade that she might remember it. Frowning, Alice nevertheless turned her attention to Mr. Faust as he spoke.

They were splitting up? But why? Would it not make sense to all take the most direct route through the building? Perhaps not. The young woman pursed her lips, but nodded when she was told she’d be accompanying Mr. Faust, the priest who was named Piotr, the friendly-seeming Rachel woman, and the man in the long overcoat. Reaching into her bag, Alice withdrew a notebook and opened it on the ground, removing a black pen and crouching beside it, drawing quickly from memory. The entire runic circle was rather complex, but it was comprised only of individual runes and thus not beyond her skills at present. What resulted was an intricate pattern of intersecting lines and geometrical shapes that looked nothing like anything that would make sense to a non-witch, or a non-Cross, for that matter. Pieces of it were in Sanskrit, Old Norse, ancient Greek, and the center rune was actually a hieroglyph. Nodding to herself, she tore the page out of the notebook and folded into a neat square, holding it out to the old man in charge of the other team, who had just concluded a rather grumpy exclamation of his nonacceptance regarding his assignment. she could only hope he didn't bite her head off for what she was doing.

“P-pardon me, sir, but would you please take this? It will allow me to speak to you, if that s-should become necessary.” Unfortunately, it only worked one way, but it had to be better than not communicating at all, right? She certainly thought so, but then she had no idea what was going on with this business, or even what exactly it was they were trying to stop. All she knew was that she had orders to kill anything that got in the way. As in, kill. Be the cause of death. Annihilate.

Her stomach was not enamored of that situation, and did several uncomfortable flips while she struggled to keep a straight face about it and not let the extended hand shake too much. Because, probably… orders like that meant that anything in the way would be trying to kill them. Alice wasn’t quite sure how she planned on dealing with that, but hopefully everyone else knew what they were doing and she could get by simply by not making an excessive nuisance of herself.

AlexF · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **AlexF** on Mon Jul 18, 2011 3:44 am

The Ghost Tower, Manhattan, New York, USA
W E D N E S D A Y 2 0th J U L Y 2011: 00:04

Preferring to stay quiet and observe for now, Andras let the conversations ebb and flow around him, filing away a name here (Piotr-call-me-Peter, Rachel, Alexander, Adelaide...) and a flash of personality there, where his companions chose to show any. An interesting bunch indeed, he thought as he chased down the last drops of the The Glenlivet, capital definite article, lit another cigarette and followed the rest of the group out of the door.

It was a short walk, and he used it to observe them further. There were those who walked with confidence and those who seemed positively petrified to be here at all; the latter, he thought, would surely be more liability than use, but Faust apparently knew what he was doing. Whether he could be trusted, of course, remained to be seen; he certainly was more than he seemed, and though Andras could tell he wasn't quite human -- hell, a blind man on a galloping horse would have noticed that, particularly after he managed to disappear without trace out of a ninth-floor window -- but he couldn't place quite what he was. Not a demon in the traditional sense, he thought, the kind he had trained himself to identify and hunt down. Something else. And something elses, he knew, were rarely to be trusted blindly -- as if anything deserved blind trust, come to think of it...

But Faust had promised a war, implicitly one against demons, and so for now, their agendas apparently matched well enough for Andras to follow him and the rest of this rag-tag gaggle of 'hunters' (he couldn't quite help the scare quotes in his mind) from the bar where they had met to an entirely nondescript building not far away. "Our objective is at the top of the building," Faust said. And that they were to stop an ancient ritual -- how very informative, Andras thought. I presume you don't mean the Aztec 'It's Washing Day, Please No Rain' ritual. And then Kill Anything That Stands In Your Way.

Gladly.

Faust gave the teams; Andras took the opportunity to learn a few more names. Mr Ballester and Mrs Gage for the old folks; Serggeo for lighter-boy with the sense of style. Ballester pitched a fit. Alice handed him a note. Andras quashed bitchy and insincere thoughts of a budding May-December romance even as he leaned quietly over to see what she had written.

Runes, is that? Bloody hell... He knew nothing of the art himself, save that in the right hands -- or from the right pen, maybe, who knew -- that was a whole shitpile of potential power. There had been stories in his father's locked library of demon hunters who had worked almost wholly with runes, forgoing guns and knives and all else. He eyed Ballester up evenly for a moment or two, waiting to see if he'd take the paper Alice offered, before sparing a glance to the rest of the other team. Old bird who Ballester had been cosying up to on the walk over, he'd noticed; I'll Have You Know I'm Adelaide; lighter-boy; he hovered on each for a moment or two, giving them chance to meet his gaze if they felt like it. For all they knew at this point, it could have been the last time they'd look at each other.

"I presume, being that we're already late and still standing around out here, that we don't have time to swap mobile numbers, for those of us not lucky enough to have rune-powers," he said, dryly but not wholly unkindly. The implication was more Perhaps we should move, ladies and gentlemen? than a serious suggestion. Besides, without a bluetooth headset -- not something he had about his person, unfortunately -- it would be damned inconvenient to be on the phone to someone from the other team when God knew what decided to jump out at them.

CR22 · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **CR22** on Mon Jul 18, 2011 8:12 pm

Modern Earth -- New York City, New York
Manhattan -- "The Ghost Tower"
7/20/11 -- 12:05 am

"Good luck to you all."

The walk to the doors somehow weighed heavily on their mind--indeed, if it weren't for the necessity of the endeavor, it would have been almost impossible to unconsciously climb the steps. To a more alert trespasser, the strangeness and the foreboding provoked by each minor ascent would suggest that stranger forces walked here. Regardless, Asher pushed open the door, and the group entered.

The room was flooded with the light of a crystal chandelier, the still-burning candles illuminating a vast, circular hall of rose marble walls. A semi-circle reception desk--abandoned, save one still-smoldering cigarette--curled not far from the doors, and at the far side of the room two circular staircases climbed dimly upwards. In the geometric center of the room, a large slab of dark stone stood. Engraved on the monolith's face were the words:

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.

The Milton quote was, of course, made completely irrelevant when two rather fit looking fellows emerged from the staircase, dressed in black suits and wearing rather sharp black shades, pulled their pistols from their jackets and fired into the group of trespassers. The clattering of footsteps heralded three more defenders, and the chamber resounded with gunshots.

Modern Earth -- New York City, New York
Manhattan -- "The Ghost Tower"
7/20/11 -- 12:05 am

"So you're sure this will work?"

"Of course it will. Why wouldn't it?"

The first voice was a rather slick tenor, smooth and controlled, but with a vain undertone that would both repulse and ensnare a casual listener. The second was just as smooth, but lower, with a faintly melancholic air quavering between the words. These tones emanated from two cloaked figures standing in a central chamber, high above the New York Filth, gigantic windows staring out at a glittering horizon.

There was a long pause before the second voice spoke again. "There's been a problem."

"Now, of all times? This is disgusting. Deal with it."

"We need only a few more minutes--half an hour at the most. I'll tell them to use whatever necessary to keep the intruders."

"Good."

A cloak figure departed, leaving a few other similarly-garbed silhouettes staring into the night. "You may begin," someone murmured to the crowd of beautiful, naked people standing behind them. "Do as you have been commanded."

Crooked Thoughts · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Crooked Thoughts** on Tue Jul 19, 2011 12:54 pm

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - The Ghost Tower
Wednesday, July 20, 2011, 12:02:00 P.M.
Asher “Perish” Faust & Fenris

TThere goes the element of surprise, Asher thought as the group erupted in an uproar of chatter. The loudest of them was Mr. Ballester, who was protesting his new position of authority; it was not the reaction Asher was expecting. He had done his research, so he knew a little bit about everyone's history and from what he learned about Marcus Ballester, he figured the man would be ecstatic about commanding a few people. He had to admit, his rant was quite amusing. Here was a one-hundred-something-year-old Grim Reaper, complaining about not being able a few baddies and possibly being eaten; he had to fight back the urge to smirk. There was irony there somewhere, he just knew it. But, Asher wasn't worried about the well being of that group in the least, they were supernatural powerhouse. But, as he continued to speak, it became apparent, why he didn't want to lead. It was not the troops or the position, he wasn't sure if he could protect them.

“I'm sure you can handle whatever problem arises, Mr. Ballester -- you are more than qualified to lead a group of men and women. And now you have a way to contact us, if you get in trouble.”

Asher nodded in Alice's direction in thanks for making the communication device. He briefly wondered how she was doing. Alice was one of the few people here who had never hunted, let alone killed before. Later, he would have a talk with her. Until then, he would have Fenris stick close to her. Looking to his furry friend, he conveyed this thought and watched her nod in agreement.

Everyone was just about ready, when Asher noticed Father Peter approaching him. “I worry that perhaps you know more than you let on.” He looked him in the eyes as he spoke, not giving away any emotion or clues as to if what he was discussing was true or not. When he finished talking, Asher simply nodded and continued on his way.

It was quiet now; everyone was looking to him, waiting on him to be a leader. Exhaling heavily, Asher moved to quickly light a cigarette; he took a drag on it and expelled the smoke slowly. Then, all in one motion, he nodded towards the door, ushering for everyone to follow him. As he did so, he equipped his weapons: sword in the right hand and gun in the left. He pushed the door open carefully and entered.

Nothing was what he expected today. The room looked elegant and high class, where he was expecting business drab gray. His eyes looked over the new surroundings while he slowly walked toward the reception desk. Their next destination was obvious, the two stairwells is where the two teams would separate. He was going to alert the others of this, when the loud, but familiar snarling of Fenris beckoned for his attention. His eyes were then drawn towards the half putout cigarette.

“Fuck,” Asher mumbled, as he realized the events that were about to transpire. “Everyone take cover!”

But, he was too late, the guards were there. He crouched just below the desk, making sure to stay down as the men fired. Sliding down to the end of the desk, where he would be out of sight, Asher would then pop out and fire three shots before returning to his cover. The shots were aimed in the direction of either man, meant to distract, but if he took one out, that was even better. Meanwhile, Fenris was trying to usher the non-battle ready Alice into cover as well.

Wei_Wuxian · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Wei_Wuxian** on Fri Jul 22, 2011 2:07 pm

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan – Huis Clos (Leaving)
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 11:50:00 P.M.
Arely “Black Phoenix” Sukira

The variety of individuals that had assembled on a Tuesday night in Manhattan, New York was very broad. Each had their strength and weaknesses, and each had something they could bring to the table. There were vampires, werewolves, witches, and probably anything else you could imagine all in one place and for what? Yes, Asher Faust had assembled them, and yes he was willing to help, but what was going to be the cost for accepting such a task. This sounded like something out of a story book, or perhaps something out of a movie, but in truth it was happening and it was up to them to make a change. He looked as the remaining individuals walked in and began conversing. Arely didn’t speak after his brief sentence towards Asher. He sat calmly with his legs crossed observing each of them with keen eyes. He was taking in their features, their mannerisms and their voices. He was studying them, making sure to note anything strange he may have noticed. It was something he always did when he walked into a room with a group of individuals; it allowed him to be prepared even for the impossible. He sipped on his strong drink and sighed as he continued to cross his leg, fiddling with the beads on his bracelet. He really could care less about what they were talking about, in fact if it didn’t involve him, he didn’t care about it. Eventually, all went silent as Asher began his long winded speech of saving humanity. All in all, Arely wasn’t really impressed, but he was down for the cause. Standing to his feet shortly after, he walked over to the door and stood there, distancing himself from the rest of them. Not many intrigued him, but a couple did. Two in particular caught his interest, a man who looked to be half demon, and an elderly man who seemed to be stuck in his era. The rest were just empty shells to Arely, there to fulfill a duty and then vanish. Sometimes he wondered if the things he said to people would come to bite him in his ass. A smirk made its way onto his face as he continued to observe them and listen to their voices. They were indeed friendly, that much was certain, well at least to one another. Arely didn’t know if any of them were friendship material, but he was certain that they were indeed trustworthy, at least to some extent.

He wasn’t the meanest of individuals, nor was his heart a black hole, but he was straight forward. If he didn’t like you, he didn’t like you and he’d tell you to your face. It wasn’t all about him, but damnit he’d better be included somewhere. He watched them, as they all made their way out of the bar, one by one. He didn’t move, he simply stood there and nodded as each passed him. After all had left, he simply smiled and took the last sip of his drink before throwing the glass on the ground.

“Time to party,” he said softly.

He walked behind the last person in the group and didn’t speak the entire time they walked.

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan – The Ghost Tower
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 12:02:45 P.M.

It seemed that they hadn’t even started walking when Asher stopped and informed them that they had reached their destination. He looked up at the building and sighed. If this was the place, it sure as hell didn’t look like it could withstand all of them rushing in at once. Another sigh escaped his lips as he listened to Asher divvy up the group into teams. Arely looked at the members of his team and could have shot himself then and there. Who were these individuals that he had been placed with? He just hoped that they could hold their own, because if not then they’d be left behind. He didn’t classify himself as a hero, he was just here to do what he could and that was it. His eyes traveled the entire length of the building before attempting to see the top.

“Great, what is with people and rituals?” Arely asked not even concerned for an answer.

He stretched a bit before he cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for whatever awaited on the inside of this damned place. He continued to listen to the various individuals of the group speak. In all honesty, if they didn’t get a move on he’d leave them behind and go alone. These people sure did talk a lot, it would be a miracle if they’d do something first without talking. He decided that it was best to ignore the old man who had spoken so hastily about being deemed team captain. He looked as if he would croak at any moment, so Arely didn’t really care what this man had to say, but there was something about him that Arely was drawn to. This particular man had experience, and Arely was sure that being led by this elderly gentleman was something he’d not enjoy, but not necessarily hate. When Asher gave them the go ahead, he transformed into his Reaper form, his voice changing, and his face covered by a skeletal mask. He no longer stood on his feet, but rather floated a few inches off the ground. He was ready to have a little fun, even if this was a mission that could spell disaster for both sides.

He followed the group inside of the building when Asher nodded for them to enter. It was as strange looking on the inside as it was on the outside. Arely floated rather nonchalantly into the room and took in his surroundings. He observed and said nothing. If anything he’d make sure he didn’t get lost in this maze of a building. Just as he was getting used to his surrounding, Asher yelled for them to take cover. Luckily, Arely was floating behind a table when the gunfire rang out. He ducked down and flipped the table over onto its side in order to act as a shield.

“Damn,” Arely stated as his eyes glowed a shimmering scarlet. This was an indication that he was pissed. One of the bullets had ripped into his cloak barely missing his arm.

He quickly struck the table in front of him sending it flying towards one of the guards. If anything the table would simply incapacitate the man and allow for a great distraction. Arely quickly ducked behind the closest thing to him and waited.

Apollymi · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Apollymi** on Fri Jul 22, 2011 6:08 pm

Modern Earth – New York City, New York
Manhattan – The Ghost Tower
Tuesday, July 19, 2011, 12:05:03 P.M.
Rachel Elizabeth Kerr

The entire building had an odd smell to it. Too much perfume and the fact that Faust chained smoked really threw off her sense of smell and in truth made her stomach clench. Aside from the olfactory overdrive, everything about the tower looked tranquil but the wolf inside of Rachel was anxious. Instinctively Rachel lifted her left hand and it on her hip just above the hunting knife. A force of habit she picked up whenever her animal side was uncomfortable. Her bright blue eyes skimmed the area. Everything was well lit due to the large glass chandelier and more things had a soft golden glow to it. The lobby alone really was beautiful. Very rich, high class and much nicer than anywhere Rachel had ever been before.

Taking another slow step into the hall Rachel heard something out of place come from the darkness. An inhuman growl rose from her chest the same moment Faust’s wolf responded. Grasping the handle of her blade, Rachel drew it out and in a smooth movement; she threw it at a guard emerging from the shadows just before he open fired. If her aim was on, it would hit him square in the chest ending his life before he hit the floor. ”Everyone take cover!”

Already two steps ahead of you. Rachel turned and ran by the desk Faust took cover behind but she kept on moving. The bullets kept on soaring by; one grazed her left arm, and left a burning sensation in its wake. Rachel kept moving around the room until she came to a high backed chair. She hesitated only long enough to look down at where she was hit and smiled a toothy grin when she saw the cut had already mended leaving a small line of blood the oozed out of the wound. ”If you want to bring down a wolf, bring the right equipment,” Rachel mumbled.

As fast as Rachel crouched by the chair she stood up again drawing her second knife from her right boot. The same growl rose from her chest just before she ran at the men. Instead of charging head on she kicked hard off the ground launching herself a good eight to ten feet into the air up and over the men. She twisted her body around in the air to make herself a harder target. Even though the bullets wouldn’t kill her, they still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch if they made contact.

Smokescreen · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Smokescreen** on Sat Jul 23, 2011 8:29 pm

Modern Earth - New York City, New York
Manhattan - The Ghost Tower
Wednesday, July 20, 2011, 00:05:11hrs
Peter Kasprivev

This was one of those instances that warranted blasphemy. "God fucking damn it" Peter swore as Faust told everyone to duck. He had been shot at before; in Chechnya and once again in Sierra Leone,it was not a good feeling and what was worse, these men were simply human. Peter sensed the same evil in them as in anyone. The same fears filled their minds; paying their bills, remembering to pick up milk, the need to love and be loved. The same nuances, the same laboured smile at parties in which you do not wish to be a part, the same tired valedictions.They were quintessential pawns of the mortal plains; that is to say they were as any random asshole you'd come across in day-to-day activity. The exorcist had little that would be an offensive weapon against these types; he had no guns, no teeth, no claws; nothing that would really ruin these men's day. The most he could do was bolster the group's mettle and in truth, two measly henchmen were hardly worth any effort. But he did make note that though humans, they did decided to impede them and that just would not do.

Mimicking Faust, he ducked for cover behind an upholstered Queen Anne chair and immediately regretted it. Were it a more opportune time he could have surveyed the area, maybe found something a tad more substantial than what now he entrusted to protect him. He sighed and pushed the doubt from his mind. They were caught off-guard but still Peter had more faith that they would come out the victors. The gunfire made him wince, Peter felt out of place in the gun fight. It was a foreign concept to the priest. He had fired a gun once as a child and it held little appeal for him. It could be that today some would lose their respective lives.However, It was a safe bet that most of the goons would meet a grisly end, hopefully finding peace in whatever God in which they believe.

Peter could as a regular priest, see this war as something grotesque and brutal. However, war is change, it is preservation of one's way of life, and it is most assuredly, a beginning. Do we fight for land or money? Do we fight for freedoms or the taking of freedoms or something as pinnacle as GOOD v EVIL? He patted his chest pockets for his cigarettes and frowned when he saw them lying on the floor, naked in the open – bullets zipping dangerously close to their cardboard skin. It was safe to say this war will continue as sure as the sun rises and falls on bloodied battlefields as it has for millennia. He was taken aback as he realised this was the first battle of the Faust's war and he was lost in his own thoughts, more concerned with his cigarettes or lack thereof.

With deft hands Peter reached into his bag and produced the purple stole and draped it over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and wished his cigarettes would come away unharmed before taking in a deep breath, "Hear me and listen let those that would wish us harm soon taste of bitter waters. Commend joy to the right hand of honour, but do not forsake the left of wrath: turn away thy face from evil. For the Lord knoweth the ways that are of the right hand well: but also the perverse which is of the left hand. He walks both as you must; he will make thy courses straight; he will bring forward thy ways in peace." His blessing married with the gun reports in the crowded hall, if his prayer rang true those in his group would reap the boons; projectiles would have a better chance to find their marks, blades would cut deeper. Peter had done all he could. It was up to the fighters now.

F13: IC

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