Early Europe

[OOC - I tried to post several times but it kept logging me out without posting. Apologies for such a short post]

Nightmare slammed Jon into the wall so hard that he passed out for several seconds. Jon came to with the vampire holding him up against the wall. The cold hand was viselike around Jon's throat.
"I'm going to skin you alive slowly." The vampire's breath was sickly sweet. "I will extend your pain and suffering as long as i can."
The claws tightened around Jon's neck. He gasped for air, weakly trying to pry open Nightmare's grip. The vampire smiled.
Blackness was descending around Jon's vision. He could see Lloyd doing something in the background. Something with his pistol?

With the last of his strength, Jon spat a mouthful of blood into Nightmare's face. The vampire growled angrily. "You fool."

"No." Jon's smile was more of a grimace. "Now I know your weaknesses. You will die with our next encounter."

The look of utter rage on the vampire's face was the last thing that Jon saw as the darkness closed in. And then a shot rang out.

(OOC - Sorry about not being on for a few days, busy with work and what not. I apologize in advance for the graphic nature of my next post: My vampire is a monster, and not a shiny, pathetic Twilight "vampire"!)

As Harkgreave's eyes closed, Nightmare turned to see the one-armed man aiming his pistol right at him; a loud explosion rang out as the one-armed man's weapon exploded in his face. Nightmare dropped Harkgreave to pounce on the opportunity given to him. The one-armed man had shards of glass spread all over his face. It seems he attempted to improvise a weapon against the vampire; unfortunately, the weapon failed miserably. Nightmare rushed to his defenceless foe like a lion to injured prey. Temporarily blinded and distracted, the one-armed man was unable to defend himself from the incoming onslaught.
Nightmare tackled the one-armed man to ground, using his working arm to claw and tear at every inch him. The one-armed man attempted to block the incoming strikes, but Nightmare slammed his knee into his foe's arm: a trick he learned from Harkgreave. It was becoming increasingly difficult to locate an area of the one-armed man that wasn't covered in cuts. The claws started to turn into crushing, barbaric punches. With his strength, the vampire was able to quickly beat the one-armed man to a pulp. Pleased with his work, Nightmare stood up and grabbed the one-armed man by his foot. Dragging him a few feet, the vampire tossed him into the wall near Harkgreave.
"You will learn your place, wretch!" Commanded Nightmare as he walked slowly towards the one-armed man, "I am the harbinger of death, the messenger of your destruction, an instrument of pure chaos." The vampire smiled as he felt his bone begin to repair. It would be a few hours before it would be in working condition, but it was miraculously fast compared to human standards.
"Obsidian Snow's arm extends far beyond your comprehension, and I am the blade." Nightmare stopped and stared down at the one-armed man. He lifted him back to his feet. The one-armed man attempted to strike at Nightmare, but the vampire was too quick and caught him by the arm. Nightmare dug his claws deep in the arm. The one-armed man gritted his teeth in pain. Blood dripped from the arm. Nightmare's eyes shined with excitement as the warm red liquid dripped to the floor. Nightmare released his grip and closed his hand into a fist. Using all his force, Nightmare drove his fist into the one-armed man's abdomen. The man collapsed to the floor, clutching at his side. Nightmare delivered a stern kick to the one-armed man's jaw. The vampire knelt down next his downed opponent.

"I am the apex predator: the overlord of the food chain. I tormented the streets of Berlin, now in London, I shall bring forth a sea of death and destruction that would put your Ripper to shame." Nightmare tightly grabbed the one-armed man's throat and lifted him back to his feet. The one-armed man spat into the vampire's face. With a swift motion, Nightmare slashed open the one-armed man's jugular vein wide open. "Ich bin dein Ende. Ich bin ihre ewige Verdammnis." He whispered words in his mother tongue to the one-armed man, unsure of whether he would understand or not. It was not his intention to switch to German but these fights with the one-armed man brought out memories of his early vampiric experiences of terrorizing Prussian citizens.
To deliver the final blow, Nightmare pinched his fingers into a tight cluster, forming a makeshift blade, and impaled the one-armed man through the abdomen. A satisfying grin swept across the vampire's face as his fist slammed into the solid wall behind the one-armed man; of course the impact was painful, but the pleasure that came with impaling his enemy with his arm brought an extreme, euphoric sensation throughout his body. He slowly lifted the one-armed above his head. The vampire opened his mouth to await the fresh meal. The blood of a warrior was always the sweetest and most satisfying. The consumption of blood rejuvenated the vampire. It had been too long since his last feeding. The pleasure of feeding was closest compared to the feeling humans received from mating. The pleasure was extremely intense; however, the vampire couldn't enjoy his meal much longer because it would not be long before the one-armed man died from blood loss. Nightmare slowly made his way to Harkgreave's pistols, still carrying the one-armed man with him. He picked one up, and inspected it. There was still one bullet ready to be fired. He pressed it against the one-armed man's right thigh and fired. Not wasting time, Nightmare pressed the barrel of the pistol against the man's jugular and slowly cauterized the wound. Nightmare couldn't imagine the pain the one-armed man must be feeling, but the vampire assumed a part of him was enjoying it. With the wound burned shut, Nightmare tossed the pistol away.

"It would be a shame to let you die... I have not enjoyed myself this much in years. Heal and we'll play again soon." Nightmare pulled his arm from the hole he created in the one-armed man. The man fell to the floor with a violent thud. He was still bleeding, but he would survive. The Queen had a large ensemble of talented medical staff. They would repair him to fight another day. Nightmare wanted to keep encountering this man; on the other hand, working with him was interesting too. The vampire wondered if they'd ever fight side by side once more. Though he refused to show it, Nightmare was becoming increasingly enraged by the lack of Obsidian Snow presence; they knew where the Requiem was. Black Lace's spies were everywhere. She even had a specific spy to follow Nightmare so word must have reached her of the ongoing struggle. Nightmare was upset with Obsidian Snow as of recently, but his devotion to his mistress could never be broken.

Lloyd lay on the ground, utterly defeated. His weapon had failed, and after that, there was never any doubt how the battle would end. It was nearly impossible to fight the vampire with two arms; it was hopeless with only one. Opening his mouth to scream, if only in frustration and pain, Lloyd could find no voice left in his ruined throat.
Had he not already been insane, the pain of his injuries would have been enough to drive nearly anyone mad. It was like being crucified; the sheer agony of it was beyond imagining. Opening his mouth again, a small gurgle of blood bubbled up in the back of his mouth, tasting like iron and filth. He spat, barely able to breath in the puddle of his own blood.It was utterly humiliating. His arm was broken, there was a bullet in his leg, and the rest of his body was even worse. He had broken at least a few of his ribs, and probably his collarbone as well. With all said and done, he was really lucky to be alive, in no small part thanks to the vampire's twisted mercy.
From how it felt when Nightmare slashed his throat, Lloyd guessed that both his internal and external jugular vein had been cut. Normally, it would just take a minute to bleed to death, but Nightmare had castrated the wound with Lloyd's own pistol. He would live, but just barely.
But was that enough? Lloyd stared at the vampire, unable to keep his hatred in check.
"D..e-r.... Alp-tr-aum.....!" Somehow, Lloyd managed to whisper a the creature's name, despite the pain each syllable left in his throat. Pathetically, Lloyd lifted his head to face the vampire, ignoring the agony of his wounds.
"Ki-Kill-!" He croaked miserably, "Mu-mur-d-er!!! K-ill.... Y-ou-.....!" His words were barely understandable. Empty threats coming from a broken, defeated man. Still, he couldn't help himself. It would not end like this. It couldn't end like this.
His broken flopped around at Nightmare like a dying fish. It was futile, but despite the agony, Lloyd just couldn't stop himself. He couldn't accept what had happened. Unmatched logic and intellect bested by some savage beast? He just couldn't accept it.
That was when the idea came to him. It was insane. A mad scheme, and yet, what else could he do? How would he be able to live with himself if he just let it end here?
Flopping his broken arm to his jacket pocket, Lloyd removed the one item he both needed, but had promised himself he would never use. It was a pen; a pen filled with the highly addictive, modified vampire blood. For a moment, as he gazed at the ruby liquid, he paused, wondering if this was really the only way. Originally, the blood was meant for Nightmare, a vampire to use. It's effects on human anatomy would be unpredictable, and dangerous. Of course, it promised control over the water element; any liquid based substances would be his to rule, but it would only last a minute at most. Would that really be worth the risk? And the addiction that would surely follow?
Lloyd stabbed the pen into his leg, injecting the blood. There was no choice. Even if he survived here, he needed a reason to live. The mission had to be completed.
Immediately as the modified blood mixed with his own, a feeling of pure, utter euphoria rushed over him. It was a bliss of understanding and power that transcended any human pleasure, like some kind of murderous enlightenment. Around him, Lloyd could feel every molecule of water in the air. He was aware of every single blood cell, and almost shivered as, around the world, he could feel the flow of the oceans themselves. He hadn't just gained control of the element of water. For just one minute, he would BE the element of water. Still in a state of wonder, Lloyd merely thought of the blood around him coming back into him, and it was. Rising from the ground, the blood seeped into the cuts on his skin, returned the body from where they came. As the blood multiplied inside him, Lloyd shuddered in crimson pleasure. Raising his arm, Lloyd mentally conducted the platelets and stem cells in his body in a symphony of restoration. Within moments, he had gone from the brink of death, to being even stronger than before. Laughing, Lloyd used his bare hands to tear open the still-healing stump where his right arm had been. Summoning up all the concentration he could muster, Lloyd envisions countless cells slowly filling his sleeve, before coming together, and then....
A smile of wonder and awe spread across Lloyd face. He had actually regrown his right arm. Laughing quietly, genuine tears began to fall from his face.
"My arm...." He whispered to himself, "My arm...!"
That was when Lloyd realized he couldn't sense the liquids around him anymore. The euphoria was fading, and there were only a few seconds left before it was completely gone. Before Lloyd even knew it, his one minute of power was almost up.
"I tried to tell you." A silent voice only Lloyd could hear sighed, "You just wouldn't listen."
"No...." Lloyd looked around, knowing all the while where it was coming from, "Gregory!!"
Lloyd roared in fury. Gregory White, his second personality, had finally returned.
"I never left." Gregory explained softly, "You just didn't bother to listen."
"You shouldn't be here!" Lloyd retorted to an empty space, "You don't exist! You can't be here! It's not possible...."
"Reality is a story told through the exchange of calcium ions in your brain." Gregory smiled knowingly, "It's a truth so complex we can only tell it through lies. Who are you to say what isn't real?"
"No... no.... Lloyd fell to the ground, shivering. The side effects of the modified blood were finally kicking in. Already, he could feel a craving for that bloody euphoria he might never experience again.
"Gregory....!" He cried, almost calling out to his other self. His body was almost going through a seizure. Sweat and tears covered him, and involuntarily, he urinated on himself. Lloyd knew there was only one way he would get out of this. The addiction, and all it's effects, stemmed from Lloyd's mind. However, Gregory's mind had no such limitations. Silently, the agreement was formed. They both knew what had to be done.
"I'll be back!" Lloyd cried as blackness overtook his vision, "I'll have this body again! If your will wavers for even a minute, I'll throw you out, and crush you away!"
Collapsing as if passing out, Lloyd lay still on the ground, and for just a moment there was silence.
Then, slowly, the detective picked himself up, slowly standing up as if he had just awoken from a long sleep. Gazing around, Gregory took in his first view of the world since he had last lost control to Lloyd.
"Beautiful...." He murmured to himself. Then, noticing the people around him, Gregory bowed politely to the Requiem, helping Harkgreave to his feet.
"Excuse me," He said humbly, "I'm afraid I haven't introduce myself. My name is Gregory. Gregory White."

Memories flashed through Jon's mind. He saw his mother, his brothers, his friends in the Corps. He relived battles in India and Egypt, desperate engagements where his battalion had been outnumbered two to one, yet still they triumphed.
But now..... now he had failed. Nightmare had moved so fast; much faster than Jon had thought ever possible. It was only through his training and sharpened reflexes that Jon hadn't been killed immediately. No, he had bested Nightmare in close combat. He had beaten down the vampire, stabbed his heart and broken his body. Yet.... it had not been enough.
And now here he lay, on the ground, gasping for air like a fish. This was not the death that Jon had always envisioned. He wasn't afraid of dying, but he'd always imagined that he would live a little longer.

Jon opened his eyes to see Nightmare's arm buried up to the elbow in Lloyd's stomach. Lloyd writhed in agony, covered in blood. Jon saw their lips moving but couldn't hear the words.
The vampire smiled and moved away, letting Lloyd fall to the ground.

Searing, white hot pain lanced through Jon as he tried to sit up. He could feel one rib broken, maybe more. There was no way to tell until he could get to a doctor. Jon flexed the rest of his body. Nothing else seemed broken, though there would certainly be many bruises later. Best of all, he could still use his hands. He could still shoot.
Very slowly, so as not to attract Nightmare's attention, Jon reached across his chest and drew a Colt revolver. They called it the Peacemaker, and now it was going to live up to it's name. He lifted up the pistol and leveled it at Nightmare's head. Could a vampire live without a head?

Just then Lloyd stood up, grinning from ear to ear. Jon watched in horror as Lloyd's arm grew back in seconds. What manner of black magic was this? It was not possible. And yet, there stood Lloyd with a new arm, testing and flexing it. His arm appeared good as new.
"Gregory!" Lloyd's shout startled Jon trance. Then Lloyd fell to the ground for several seconds before getting up again.

Jon grunted in pain as Lloyd helped him up. The broken rib hurt, but Jon had learned years ago to push such pain away. Mind over matter. He could go for days with a broken bone and had before, but there was no reason for that anymore, now that he was out of the Corps.
"Excuse me." Lloyd gave a slight bow. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself. My name is Gregory. Gregory White."
Jon studied Lloyd up and down. His body was completely healed. Amazing. "Did you just say your name was..... Gregory?"
Lloyd nodded. "Indeed. Gregory White."
It occurred to Jon that maybe Lloyd had hit his head. But he seemed fine in every other way. Maybe he was just going crazy. Jon had heard that every once in a while, Lloyd went insane. Maybe he had finally snapped again.

Gregory glanced around quickly assessing the situation. Of course, he had always seen everything, but that was through the twisted, emotionless logic the other personality in his split mind presented. Now, they had finally switched places. Gregory, as Lloyd's split personality called himself, was finally in control. Lloyd was now just a tortured voice only Gregory could hear, screaming and cursing silently in the back of his mind.
Turning to the Requiem with a sad look of genuine, honest, humility, Gregory bowed his head, just a little, if only to be polite. A complete contrast to Lloyd's absolute disregard to rules and social regulations in general.
"I'm terribly sorry we had to meet under such circumstances." Gregory said sadly, "My other side's made quite an enemy, hasn't he? Regretfully, at this point, I would say a tactical retreat would be the wisest course of strategy. We've apprehended the Ripper, so our mission should be complete."
Glancing behind, Gregory pointed to the two windows Lloyd smashed just minutes ago.
"Currently," He explained, "We have two exits, and the main doors. The vampire can only follow us through one."
Gregory turned to the vampire. There was no hatred or even anger in his eyes. Only pity.
"There's been enough bloodshed tonight." He sighed, "I realize in our current condition, we're probably outmatched in any one on one fight, but there's quite a few of us, and only one of you. If you allow this bout to continue, you may bring down a few of us, but it will almost certainly end in your death."
There was sadness in Gregory's eyes. And regret, for every man, woman, and child Lloyd had murdered using the body they shared. He wouldn't murder any more if he could help it. There was enough blood on his hands as it was. Regardless of what Lloyd, or even the Requiem thought, Gregory firmly believed that true justice could only be achieved by working within the system. Laws were what keep order, and so they had to be obeyed.
Shouldn't they?
"Mr. Harkgreave," He asked politely, "If you would, please take aim in case Nightmare chooses to continue this match. Mr. Lovechild and Mr. Arran would also do well to remain vigilant, and as for you...." He glanced at the werewolf, "You may choose to support either, or neither side in this endeavor, though I will strongly advise against joining with criminals. You seem like a man of justice, so I believe you will work in better conscience with Her Majesty's Requiem. However, that choice is yours."
Then, extending his hand to Nightmare, as if in a gesture of peace, Gregory nodded slightly,
"Just as this choice is yours. We won't follow you if you choose to leave. As I said before, there's been enough pointless bloodshed." Gregory looked at Nightmare with respect. In that moment, he didn't see them as Requiem versus Obsidian Snow, or even vampire versus human. To Gregory, they were just two men. Equals.
Just as they had always been.
Just as all men had always been.
Equals.

Nightmare gazed on in shock as the one-armed man injected himself with the stolen vial of blood; he had hidden it within a pen that also served as the injector. The foolish human failed to realize the blood was not meant for humans to consume, or perhaps it was an act of desperation. The one-armed man refused to accept defeat. Nightmare admired his continuous will to fight.
As the vampire had predicted, the one-armed man's body reacted immediately to the blood. Nightmare had never observed a human reaction and was excited beyond belief. The one-armed man seemed to be basking in the blood's embrace. He began to tremble and examined his arm in disbelief.
Nightmare's jaw dropped as the arm he had once removed had now fully grown back. The vampire was awed by the effect of the blood. As foolish as he was, the formerly one-armed man had earned a great deal of respect by tolerating the blood designed for a vampire. What angered Nightmare most was that he couldn't consume the blood himself, and only three vials remained.
In a mere instant, the man's moment of retribution ended as quickly as it began. He called out the name "Gregory" and began panicking. As tears ran down the man's face, he convulsed and broke down internally. The addictive nature of the experimental blood tore at the one-armed man on a molecular level. He would need another dose very shortly or the addiction would destroy him. The man was having an argument with someone who was not even present in the room. The werewolf and the Requiem agents were sharing the same amount of confusion; Nightmare only assumed the man had fallen into an inescapable insanity that would consume his mind as the blood consumed his body.
The man collapsed to the ground, letting the blood's power dominate his mind; he couldn't fight the cravings any longer. The man collapsed to the ground; hopeless and defeated. Unable to find another source of experimental blood, his body ceased movement. He seemed to be awaiting death's embrace to remove him from his tormented existence.
Contrary to the vampire's beliefs, the man slowly rose to his feet in a daze; he seemed confused and astounded by the environment around him. Though he had been fighting against Nightmare in this room for more than an hour, the room was new to him.
"It is almost as though a new soul occupies his body," muttered Nightmare under his breath.
The man introduced himself to Harkgreave as "Gregory White" after helping him to his feet.
Gregory White! The same voice he was talking to?

The man was walking with a different pace, acting with a sense of calmness and control, and even speaking with a new voice. His politeness was uncanny; he was the polar opposite of the man formerly occupying his body. This could be a clever ruse; however, his mind couldn't have been able to tolerate the effects of the blood. Nightmare had to discover the man's identity. Gregory White began to explain the futility of continuing the fight. Unlike his former persona, Gregory did not wish to engage in combat. He was correct about the situation: Nightmare would surely die if he challenged the rest of the Requiem, and without aid from the organization that was supposed to aid him, defeat would come swiftly.
As Nightmare eyed him carefully, Gregory White offered his hand.
"Forgive my cautiousness, but who are you, and why are you still standing?" demanded Nightmare, "the blood you injected into your body should have killed you by now, yet you still stand... and now you introduce yourself as though you have just met your comrades. I demand an explanation!"

Even though Nightmare was an enemy, Gregory still smiled politely, if only out of habit.
"I'm sorry, let me explain," He apologized, "You see, as you might have noticed, Lloyd has many... irregularities to the way his mind works. Over the years, various people have classified these irregularities as antisocial disorder, abnormal intellect, and schizophrenia, just to name a few. However, one of the most... unusual of these, would be his multiple personality disorder; me." Gregory pointed to himself, "Lloyd wasn't born with this particular disorder. It was only after a certain.... incident, that I was "born", as you might call it."
Gregory frowned, remembering that day. He could still feel the heat of the flames that surrounded him. He could hear the woman scream as the floor gave way around them, and the blood....
He could still feel the blood on his hands. It was everywhere, his face, his legs, and the girl....
The girl.... she was so young and beautiful, so full of life..... why did it have to happen to her?
Gregory shuddered, shaking off the memories.
"A-Anyway," He went on, "The result is this. Even though we share the same body, we're really two completely separate people. Forever together, yet forever kept apart by the very split that allows me to exist." Gregory smiled sadly, "Since that cursed blood only affects Lloyd's mind, he's made me the dominate personality so he can have time to recover from the affects of the addiction. For the first time in so long.... he's finally let me out."
Gregory's smile remained the same, but now seemed to glow with an aura of almost child-like happiness. Life was so beautiful. Gregory just couldn't understand Lloyd's obsession with death, particularly in bringing it to others. His smiled grew ever so slightly as he extended his hand again to the vampire. At least for tonight, no one else would have to die.
"Back to the bigger question," Gregory said, a little more serious, "Are you willing to call a truce, at least for tonight? We'll let you go, and we won't follow you, and in return," He glanced back at the Requiem, "I suppose you'll do the same for us as well. What do you say?"

Against all his defensive instincts, Nightmare actually believed Gregory's story; it had to be true. There was no other possible explanation that Gregory could exist. Gregory and Lloyd's condition reminded Nightmare of the internal carnal urges that seemingly spoke to him.
"Fighting will not serve us any further this evening," admitted Nightmare as he grabbed Gregory's hand and shook it gently, "I accept your truce." The vampire had almost forgotten the sensation of shaking hands with a human being. Nightmare almost felt human... at least just for an instant. Nightmare kept a vigilant eye on Gregory and the other Requiem agents; he was not about to let his guard down even though a truce was declared.
Despite not being able to apprehend Jack the Ripper, Nightmare had learned a valuable lesson: if he was to do the bidding of Black Lace, he could not rely on the aid of Obsidian Snow; their inability to provide support to him during the previous ordeal proved to Nightmare that he was to work on his own from now on. The vampire was never going to betray Black Lace, but Nightmare understood clearly that a new covert unit was needed and should be under his direct leadership. Black Lace would undoubtedly support his idea as long as he remained loyal to the Obsidian Snow cause. Nightmare was to recruit the best men and women in Europe in order to accomplish his three main goals: retrieving the remaining vials of blood, disrupting the stability of the monarchy, and undermining the Requiem. Though he hated the Requiem, Gregory and Harkgreave had earned the vampire's respect.
"It would be wise to uphold this agreement," Nightmare warned, "I will sense if you're tracking me."

With a loud click, Jon slowly eased the hammer down on the revolver. A truce had been called between Nightmare and the Requiem. It would be dangerous to provoke the vampire any more. The Requiem slowly backed out the doors, heading for the carriages and cabs still waiting outside.

"Come on." Jon shoved Jackie into the nearest cab. She growled at him like an animal, but there was nothing she could do. Lloyd had tied the knots too well. Or Gregory, as he was now called. Jon still didn't completely understand what had happened, but it appeared that he was a completely different person.

Lloyd - no, Gregory now - climbed into the carriage as well.
"Now that we have her," Jon wondered. "Can we have a day off?"

The sun was just coming up as the Requiem left the building. The first glittering rays of the next day's light meekly illuminated the dismal world. Gregory smiled as he climbed into the carriage, satisfied with the night's work. There had been fighting, but no one had actually died, and they had even managed to capture the Ripper alive. Now, with luck, Jackie would have a fair trial, and justice would be served, in a fair, civilized manner.
"Now that we have her," Harkgreave said as he entered the carriage, "Can we get a day off?"
"No rest for the wicked," Gregory chuckled in reply, "Personally, I think Walter deserves a chance to talk to her at least once before her trial, but the rest of us will probably have to go right into investigating Obsidian Snow, and their vampire. There's still three types of cursed blood we need to collect, and there's a few.... other things I'd like to investigate."
Gregory smile fell slightly as he thought of Nightmare. Just from the brief time they knew each other, Gregory could tell that there was good in him. Despite the vampire's natural sadism and thirst for blood, both figurate and literal, Gregory could sense great loyalty in him. He was fighting for something, or someone, and that alone was worthy of their respect. Gregory couldn't help but wonder what could have driven him into crime. Perhaps in a kinder world, they could have even been friends.
"Mr. Harkgreave...." Gregory stared out the window, looking slightly absentminded as he spoke, "No one else should have had the information to trace Jackie like we did. The fact that Nightmare seemed to know her connection with the Requiem is especially troubling. Obsidian Snow shouldn't even know we exist, let alone the details of our roster. How are they getting this information?"
Sighing, Gregory closed his eyes, not expecting an answer. He had already gone over countless possibilities in his head, but all of them were either impossible, or made Obsidian Snow virtually untraceable. In his heart, he knew the latter was more likely.
"The werewolf was also interesting." Gregory turned to Harkgreave, "He disappeared soon after we captured Jackie. I wonder, do you think we'll see him again? He's a very talented hunter. Perhaps he might find use for his skills serving in her majesty's requiem...."
He shrugged as if he didn't care, but couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes. Nightmare had mentioned the Requiem around the werewolf, so even if he wasn't involved before, Viktor was now a part of the war between the grim justice of the Requiem, and the darkness of Obsidian Snow, whether he liked it or not. Eventually, if only to stay alive, he would have to side with one of the two forces that dwelled the darkness of London. One which relished in the shadows, and the other that used that same power to defy it. There was no right choice, but one had to be made. Gregory couldn't help but sadness at the tragedy of another man being dragged into the darkness.
Truly, the shadows reached long, and oftentimes, it was the very light that stretched the blackness to where none had been. Was there anywhere left that was truly free of the darkness, or was all covered in black?
Silently, Gregory turned away, closing his eyes to rest. In a world where all colors eventually fade, the carriages and taxies traveled on, eventually stopping at Buckingham Palace where Victoria awaited. Gregory bowed respectfully as he hopped off the carriage.
"It's good to see you again, your majesty." He smiled, "It's me, Gregory."
For a moment, time seemed to freeze as Victoria gazed in an almost shocked trance, before a genuine smile slowly spread across her face.
"It's good to see you again." She smiled with a hint of a true happiness that she knew she didn't deserve. There was no embrace, or shouts of the reunion for old friends. Merely a true smile, and a tiny hint of tears in the corners of their eyes.
And that was enough. No words were needed for them to understand the feelings each had for the other, though both knew they no longer had a right to such things. Such was repentance, or at the very least, the price the darkness demanded for their hypocritical justice.
As the moment passed, Gregory simply extended his arm, pointing to the cab Jackie lay bound.
"Your majesty," He smiled, "Mission complete."

The carriage bounced and rattled along the cobblestones, casting long shadows down the street. Through the window, Jon could see the first rays of sunlight peeking over the rooftops. The night was over. Even if the vampire, Nightmare, was following them, he would be forced to retreat in the daylight. The cabdriver was taking a much longer route back to Buckingham for exactly that reason.

"Mr. Harkgreave...." Gregory stared out the window absently, "No one else should have had the information to trace Jackie like we did. The fact that Nightmare seemed to know her connection with the Requiem is especially troubling. Obsidian Snow shouldn't even know we exist, let alone the details of our roster. How are they getting this information?"

Jon shrugged. He was about to reply, but Gregory wasn't paying attention. To Jon's knowledge the Requiem didn't have any double agents in their midst, and he doubted that any of them would even consider such an act. No, the spy could not be a member of the Requiem. Was it possible that Obsidian Snow had a psychic? After Lloyd's impressive display of regrowing his lost limb, Jon considered anything to be possible.
With a sigh, he leaned back and tried to relax. His body hurt all over, and several large bruises were beginning to appear. His shoulder in particular was throbbing. It was probably dislocated, but the Requiem had the best surgeons that England could provide. Jon was confident that he could be fixed up within a day or two.

He closed his eyes and relived the battle with Nightmare. The vampire was faster than Jon had imagined, and it was only because of his training and reflexes that he wasn't killed outright. Block, punch, block, twist, jab, block again. In battle there was no time to think. Thinking slowed your muscles; thinking got you killed. In battle there was only conditioning and reflexes and training, and whoever had the better training prevailed.
Jon had had the better training. What he hadn't counted on was the vampire's immunity to wounds and pain. Although he bled like any man, he appeared to be impervious to the blood loss and the resulting shock. Jon had never encountered such an enemy. He would not make the same mistakes. Next time, he would break every bone in the vampire's body before being sure of his victory.

With a 'thump' the carriage door swung open and Jon realized that they had stopped. Finally, they were back at the Palace. Gregory dismounted and greeted the Queen with a bow. Jon followed suit, noticing the look shared between Gregory and his Queen. Jon wondered what it meant, and then it was his turn to bow to the Queen.
To his surprise, she returned the bow, leaning in close. "Thank you." Her words were quiet, barely above a whisper. To Jon, they meant the world.

The Queen moved off to greet the other members of the Requiem, Jon nodded to Gregory before moving off to find a physician. His wounds needed tending to.

"Thank you, my mistress," Nightmare bowed cordially to Black Lace; the vampire could not tell if she was genuinely impressed or had simply understood his disappointment with the Obsidian Snow organisation; nevertheless, she granted him permission to execute his plan.
Very similar to the Queen's Requiem, Nightmare was planning to assemble a task force of exceptionally skilled individuals under his direct command to accomplish the tasks the regular Obsidian Snow members were unable to; this would require the utmost scrutiny while selecting the chosen few to handle the dangerous, almost suicidal missions Nightmare would bestow upon them. Based on his past experiences, Nightmare was going to run his force like a military squad; it was the most efficient system to choose. A chain of command would be appropriate for the situation. His soldiers would answer to him, and he would answer to Black Lace. Unlike a modern army, Nightmare's men and women would have a certain amount of freedom with combat tactics, attire, and morality, but anyone breaking the chain of command or defying orders was to be put to death... immediately.
The reckoning is coming.

Nightmare had learned a great deal from his encounter with the Requiem; they were formidable opponents but significantly weakened whilst alone. Nightmare knew more than anyone to never underestimate a Requiem agent; Lloyd was more than a match for the vampire, but most Requiem agents would fall to Nightmare's onslaught; however, like a pack of wolves, the Requiem were a powerful foe. With his own private squad, Nightmare was confident he could defeat the Requiem, but he wondered if he really wanted to? Yes, Black Lace wanted the Requiem destroyed, but if his loyalty to her was severed, Nightmare was not certain if he would continue his campaign to eradicate them.
Organized crime was never the life Nightmare had envisioned himself having. A bleak, unfortunate existence was a former soldier turned criminal, but without Black Lace, Nightmare would not be alive today. His oath of loyalty was not one he took lightly. Upon becoming infused with the vampire disease, Nightmare sought out to educate himself of the old vampiric laws and ways. It had been almost 3000 years since the vampires were all divided into separate clans: waging wars with one another and with the lycans. Few vampire clans remain active today. Though most vampires have held on to their mother tongue, they were shadows of their former selves now; vampires are now the monsters that haunted communities, abducted citizens, and feasted on the weak. Modern vampires lacked the unity they once shared, though some still grasped at the ways of the old.
There are three in known existence: The Antikuai, meaning 'ancient'; they were the oldest of the vampiric clans still in existence. They resided in Constantinople, currently a part of Turkey. Many Byzantine Emperors were rumoured to be members of this clan. This clan has been in Constantinople since the Romans conquered the area. The ancient clan were the only pureblood united clan left in the world. A pureblood vampire was a vampire born of two vampiric parents. Though extremely rare, vampire births were not unheard of; the chances of a vampire infant surviving childbirth were one in twenty, but with the pregnancy being half as long as human pregnancy and vampiric mating rituals occurring more frequently than that of humans, the purebloods managed to keep their population at a controlled level. The ancient vampires believe that the Byzantine Empire will be returned to it's former glory with a vampire as it's head.
The second vampire clan, The Noviodaitis, meaning 'newly empowered', believed themselves to be the new breed of vampires. They were halfbloods: vampires who were living previous lives as humans. Their strongest gathering was located in the capital of the United States of America: Washington. Located in the New Word, these vampires were convinced that their new empire will surely reign supreme as they infiltrate the young republic's infrastructure. So far, they have not been successful in their attempts. The American clergy have employed many hunters to track them down and eliminate them.
The last known vampire clan, called The Sanktauxsilix, meaning 'holy aid', believed they are the next step of divine human evolution. They were an egotistical hierarchy of halfbloods serving under pureblood leaders. They had the holy fanaticism to elect themselves a king. Based in Italy, they had covens in many major Italian cities: Rome, Milan, Naples, Venice, Bologna, Palermo, San Marino, Florence, and Cagliari. They had a reasonable amount of power; enough to establish themselves within an area completely populated by righteous Catholics, and still withstand the church's efforts to destroy them.
And you're all alone, aren't you?

Nightmare pondered contacting each vampire clan to seek aid. He had not visited a vampire enclave in many years. Nightmare was unsure if they would even welcome him with open arms or with extended claws. Nightmare also considered the combat capable members of Obsidian Snow as potential candidates, but every combat capable member of Obsidian Snow received a hateful glare from the vampire as he passed them in the dimly candle-lit halls of the Obsidian Snow headquarters. They knew very well why the vampire was enraged. They didn't even bother apologizing.
Nightmare needed time to ponder on what his next choice of action was going to be. The sun had fully risen, and Nightmare was sure the Requiem was going to go through a debriefing of their mission followed by a short celebration. The vampire settled into his chambers; he knew a few hours of rest wouldn't hurt.

As Jon and Thomas left, going off to work or see a doctor, Gregory turned back to the Queen. It had been years since he had last seen her with his own eyes, and not through Lloyd's. She hadn't aged well. The stress from the Requiem, and from running the nation had taken it's toll, but to Gregory, she was still as beautiful as ever.
"Your majesty," He smiled, "Would you care to join me on a walk? I believe Walter would like some time alone with Jackie. The report of her capture will come in soon, and her trial will probably be today or tomorrow. At the very least, we should let them have this time for themselves. It may very well be the last they ever spend together."
Victoria nodded, and began to follow Gregory to the Buckingham Gardens. Though she seemed cold, Victoria actually understood all too well how cruel love could be. Especially for those in the Requiem. Such things could rarely exist in such a shadowy organization, and usually had tragic results when they did.
Such was the price of walking the path of blood, and the fate of those who followed her majesty's requiem. Each member, whether they knew it or not, always accepted such a fate when they joined. However, very few ever lived out their years without ever realizing, and regretting such a choice.
Gregory sighed as he glanced at the queen. He was not one of the few.
Once they were a good distance away from the palace, Gregory took out his journal, showing it to Victoria.
"Your majesty," He began, "Have you ever wondered how Obsidian Snow learned of our existence?"
"Of course." She replied softly, "Why do you ask?"
Gregory frowned, "They know too much about us. Our connections, our missions, even the weakness we don't know for ourselves. In theory, that shouldn't even be possible."
Pulling out his journal, Gregory turned it not to the latest entry, but instead, to the first page. The entry had been written years ago, and held the only physical record of both Lloyd and Gregory's most painful memory. It was the day Gregory was "born", and the day Lloyd had lost everything.
For a few minutes, Gregory just stared at the entry, not quite able to bring himself to say anything. Just remembering that day hurt so much. Being there in person would be enough to drive a man mad.
Lloyd wasn't always a sadistic madman.
"A few years ago..." Gregory began, "Lloyd had a very dangerous rival. They both had a passion for the truth, and were willing to do nearly anything to find it. However, back then, Lloyd was held back by morals; justice, if you will. The other man...." Gregory's expression grew a little more pained. "You might have heard of him. His name is Jonathan Faust."
Victoria nodded, "So what does he have to do with this?"
Gregory paused for a minute, as if preparing himself. When he finally did speak, he didn't sound like himself. His voice was cracked, and he paused at seemingly random spots. What little he did say was sad, and filled with what could be best called regret.
"One day..." Gregory stuttered, "Faust went too far. In an attempt to find the truth, he- he used black rituals to make a..... contract....." Gregory's voice trailed off, and he took a brief moment before going on. This time, his voice was hushed, but firm, and the pain was much more clear.
"A sacrifice was required for this ritual. We- Lloyd tried to stop him, but...." Gregory started to shake, "He couldn't protect her. She was just a little girl.... there was a fire, and by the time, Lloyd reached her.... she.... I- I'm sorry...."
Unable to go on, Gregory simply surrendered to the feelings of sadness and regret that Lloyd would never feel again. His "birth" had taken such things from him, leaving only a cold, mad, logician behind. As a single thin tear fell silently from his face, Gregory mourned for the loss of innocence, and the fall of two men who only wanted the truth. However, what Victoria would never know was just how important that girl had been to both Lloyd and Gregory. She was arguably the reason Lloyd had chosen his path as a detective. In fact, at the very beginning, Lloyd had done it all for her. His beautiful, wonderful sister.
Lloyd hadn't always been insane. What drove him mad was seeing all of her unique subtitles and quirks; her beautiful smile, the way she laughed, even her childish hopes and dreams, all turned into meat right before his eyes.
It would have been enough to drive any man mad, if they knew her like Lloyd did.
In a gesture of comfort, Victoria put her hand softly on Gregory's shoulder. She had seen countless tragedies like this in her merciless career. To keep the public at peace, the majority of Victoria's life had been nothing but horrors. Horrors she had seen, horrors she had experienced, and perhaps the most tormenting of all; horrors she had caused.
There was no real comfort she could offer, but the gesture would be enough. It would have to be. After a few minutes, Gregory had pulled himself together enough to continue.
"I haven't seen Faust since that day." He said ruefully, "However, if he's still alive, his contract would give him knowledge of the Requiem, among everything else. If he's joined Obsidian Snow, he'll be more than just a dangerous enemy. He stops at nothing to achieve his objectives, and..." Gregory paused, "He knows everything. All past, present, and future knowledge is his to command. Such is the purpose of his contract, and his curse. I know he could be our enemy, but I can't help but pity him."
The rest of the walk was quieter. It was around the usual time for breakfast by the time they returned to Buckingham Palace. Gregory didn't know about the other members of the Requiem, but he knew that for himself at least, there would be no time for sleep. There was simply too much work to be done. In fact, each member of the Requiem would soon receive a list of their new objectives from the messengers sent out by Victoria. Investigating Obsidian Snow, and recovering the modified blood were obviously there, but now, two new cases awaited. The trial of Jack the Ripper, and the search for the long missing Jonathan Faust, the last heir to the blood and madness inherent in his name. Gregory would hand-deliver Harkgreave's copy himself, just to make sure he was ok. Due to his military training, and incredible endurance, Jon actually seemed to be doing shocking well, but few could fight a vampire and walk away without some kind of injury. It would probably be a good idea to visit, if only to check on him.
"Mr. Harkgreave!" Gregory smiled as he entered the physician's room. He enjoyed spending time with Harkgreave. The soldier was perhaps the most human member of the Requiem, and definitely had some of the strongest virtues of the group, particularly in loyalty. Men of Harkgreave's caliber were hard to find.
"Are you feeling any better?" Gregory gave a friendly smile as he handed Harkgreave his copy of the notice "This is a list of our current objectives." He explained, "What do you think?"

Namir arrived back to the palace. Her entire body was sore from all the work she had been doing in Russia but she still hadn't found what she was looking for. She rolled her shoulders and glanced around the courtyard, the guards who had let her in said she was expected later. She needed time to rest and learn about the 'Ripper incident' as the rumors called it. Most said strange people battled some gods, she knew this wasn't true but she could get a little bit. The Requiem had a fight.
She slid over the ground tapping each mind in her range and checking to see how many people where here. Only a few from requiem, and from what she could feel from each of them, they were all pretty badly injured. she tied her hair back leaving only long bangs to hang over her eyes.
She didn't want to startle anyone.
Her skirt swayed around her ankles deceivingly. Under her fancy clothing was a black elegant acrobat suit. It came in handy in a battle, especially when fighting advantageous people. The suit was tight enough to cling to her but not to be difficult to move in.

Finally she arrived at where she wanted to be and she glided over to the sitting chambers. The guards out front gave her a glance before nodding.
"Go on in. She knows you're here." they said and I gave them a nod. Inside Victoria was seated as though she hadn't slept in days. Her entirety looked more weary from the last time Namir had seen her and, truthfully, it shocked the girl to see her leader in such a state.
"Your Majesty." she said and gave a low bow.
"Namir, I thought Ladies Curtsied." she said and gave a tired smile.
"They do, Majesty. But as we both no I am not a lady." she replied trying to make it sound funnier.
"Yes. But I still expect a curtsy.” Sighed the queen. Namir curtsied annoyingly, “Well, I suppose we had better catch you up to the current events." She sighed and started out with the first noticeable killings. She ended with the battle with the vampire and the catching of Jackie. Once the story was done Namir sat in silence for a long time.
"Those aren't the kind of thing I like to hear right when I get back," she started with the slight russian accent still on her tongue, "But I suppose it can't be helped. I will go get the briefing and reintroduce myself so that I may know with whom, and quite possibly what, I am working with." she said
“Good. You are dismissed.” She said and Namir quietly started to leave.
"How did the search go?" called the queen trying. Namir froze.
"Nothing. No hint of anything. I will fulfill my duty until another time when I can search again." she replied coldly and left.

Jon winced as his shoulder popped back into place. The doctor nodded, quite impressed. Most men made some kind of noise because, quite honestly, resetting joints hurt. A lot.
"Well, there's nothing broken." The doctor started to wrap up Jon's shoulder. "But you should give this shoulder a rest for several days. Don't strain it or it might not ever recover."
"Good." Jon nodded. He could afford a few days to debrief. Lord knew that he had earned it. Everybody in the Requiem had earned a rest.

It was always after a battle that Jon turned introspective. He wondered why men like him did what they did. Why did he and his fellows risk their lives every day for people who didn't even know that they existed. Most of the citizens of London were unaware of the battle between light and dark that raged throughout the city.
Jon had a special set of skills, and he was duty-bound to use those skills to protect others. A man was nothing without his honor.

"Mr. Harkgreave!" Gregory entered, carrying a stack of papers. "Are you feeling any better?"
Jon nodded. He was still sore, but not quite as much.
"This is a list of our current objectives. What do you think?"
The list was relatively short. "Find Obsidian Snow's base? They have remained hidden from us for many years. It won't be easy." Gregory nodded.
"But," Jon continued. "Now we can track the vampire known as Nightmare. He could lead us to their base."
It was imperative for Jon to re-fit his weapons and ammunition. He needed to visit his armory as soon as possible.

Subject 13 was enjoying her new found freedoms....the fresh air, the smells, the sound. How wonderful it felt to be in the out side world. She shivered at the thought of what she could and giggled. How she got free one hand to wounder, the place that she was kept she should not have been able to get free from....she should not have been able to do this but she did, she found away out. And on her first day of freedom she want have fun, she wanted to bring fear in to others and what better way to do it than a nasty killing. She new they would come after and it would not take long for them to realize she had gotten away.

A crocked smile came across her lips as she pulled the hood up to her cape covering her face. Her feet bear to keep from making a sound. She could smell everything and took it. What a wonderful night for a killing. She sang softly under her breath.

London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair Lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair Lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair Lady.

Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
My fair Lady.


Bricks and mortar will not stay,
Will not stay, will not stay,
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
My fair Lady.

Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel, iron and steel,
Build it up with iron and steel,
My fair Lady.

Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Bend and bow, bend and bow,
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
My fair Lady.

Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold, silver and gold,
Build it up with silver and gold,
My fair Lady.

Silver and gold will be stolen away,
Stolen away, stolen away,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,
My fair Lady.

Set a man to watch all nigh,
Watch all night, watch all night,
Set a man to watch all night,
My fair Lady.

Suppose the man should fall asleep,
Fall asleep, fall asleep,
Suppose the man should fall asleep?
My fair Lady.

Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
Smoke all night, smoke all night,
Give him a pipe to smoke all night,
My fair Lady.

She walked the street looking for the next life she would take and she would make sure it got in to the news. Awww there was the victim, a drunken man walking the street like a puppet being pulled by strings…. No will of his own. She moved like a cat only to stop when she heard nerves whispers….
“We must find Subject 13. They are fair to dangers to let run around without being controlled.”
A second man spoke “I understand that but would it not be wise to wait for the others…I mean she is something that is out of control we should just kill her on sight”
With this the first man sighed. “For some reason being bitten by those unholy beats does not affect her, we need to bring Subject 13 back alive”
The other man cussed as the moved on changing the subject. She frowned trying to think would it be more fun to kill them or scare the color out of their hair.

She decide to both killing one making sure the other watched the the animal like killing blood splattering every where as the man struggled to fight back. She broke bones using a throwing knife to cut at his flesh. Singing London Bridge the whole time as she sang the song. The other would run shirking in terror as she laughed like a mad man running after him just for fun. " RUN RUN like a headless chicken" she cackled. She would slip down an ally letting him run off in to the night crying out in fear.

By nights end she had left 4 dead bodies in her wake all killed in that violent manner she was so good at, leaving her sadistic mark on all of them.

Namir hated introductions. She knew these people and they knew her but most of them hadn't met. She was the strange girl who liked to work alone and went off on her own ends whenever she wasn't doing missions. She scanned the building again and found two of her colleagues in the doctors office. Sighing she followed the nearest path up there. She found them discussing Missions.
"Good-morning." Glancing at the faces she identified them as Lloyd and Jon. They were looking over a stack of papers, probably the next objectives. "Nice to actually meet you." she lied, she would have preferred to have already known them and be done with it. "I'm Namir Crest. I think I will be working with you for a while." She said not bothering to curtsy anymore. She gave a bow and glanced the papers.
"Is that a joke?" She asked, seeing the top priority. "The Requiem has been looking years for that. They expect us to find it overnight?" she asked, astounded. She had barely had to work with obsidian snow, and the parts she did have were mostly destroying bases or trying to get information.

Gregory nodded, understanding the girl's disbelief. It was absurd to expect them to complete the objectives, but they were soon approaching a point where they had no choice.
"Obsidian Snow's is becoming stronger." He explained, "Mr. Harkgreave and I have seen the power of their agents firsthand. We've also learned they have access to modified blood. It's a powerful tool, and an unstoppable weapon. I...." Gregory's voice trailed off as he extended his right arm, still not used to it being there, "...I've also seen the blood's power with my own eyes. If its development reaches completion, and we can't stop them, it wouldn't just mean the end of the Requiem. London itself would fall to Obsidian Snow."
Gregory stood up, walking closer to Namir,
"Time is literally of the essence." He said sadly, "We just don't know how much we have left. However, I do have a theory that may prove useful in this endeavor." His smile fell slightly, but he quickly recovered, "Tell me, Ms. Crest, have you ever heard of a man named Jonathan Faust?"
Extending his hand, Gregory smiled politely, "I'm Gregory, by the way. Gregory White. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Crest."

She took his hand and shook it while shaking her head. "I don't know any man named Jonathan Faust but I have heard of him a little. What does he have to do with Obsidian snow? And pardon me but I thought your file said you were Lloyd, not to be rude, but am I mistaken or are you lying to me?" she asked, edgily, she hated liars. They were worthless creatures that didn't deserve to live. Even if you are a murderer that is nothing to a liar. She thought bitterly, but most all murderers are liars so that makes them still horrible. "I believe the information I have of Jonathan Faust was that he was an old colleague of yours." she said, "But that was just a rumor I picked up. I don't really know that much about him."

Jonathan watched with mild interest as the young woman introduced herself as Namir. He knew the overview of her bio but had never actually met her. From what he had heard, she was a good operative, if a little headstrong. Apparently, she also had a tendency to go off on her own for unknown reasons.

Gregory shook her hand and they began to converse. Jon's respect for Gregory was growing. Although he had respected Lloyd as a superior, he'd often thought that Lloyd's temper got the better of him. Lloyd had a tendency to rush into fights and trust his skills to prevail. As he'd occasionally demonstrated, though, this tactic didn't always work. Gregory, however, was above all that.
Jon still had difficulty thinking of Lloyd as Gregory, or however that worked. He knew that the mind and personality was Gregory, but the face still looked like Lloyd.

There was a pause in the conversation and Jon chimed in. "I don't know who this Faust is or what he has to do with Obsidian Snow, But I do know that Obsidian Snow is like a spider's web. If we can find the outer bases, we can follow the threads ever closer to the center. Eventually we will flush them out or drive them to ground. I'm sure Gregory has many methods for hunting down our enemies, especially now that we have a lead."

Gregory laughed,
"Well," He smiled, "I actually do have several ideas, but I'll let you decide which one you like the most. As for your question earlier," He turned to Namir, "I'm Lloyd's second personality. Lloyd is usually in control of this body, but I'm afraid he's a little.... occupied at the moment. Please know though, I would never lie. Especially to a friend."
Gregory's smiled twitched ever so slightly. In the back of his mind, he could hear Lloyd curse and scream. It had been hours since Gregory had gained control, and Lloyd still hadnot stopped. Not even once.
"The blood!" Lloyd pleaded silently, "Give me more of it! Gregory!"
Gregory closed his eyes, pressing his hand against his temples, "Excuse me...." He muttered, as if in a trance. Taking a few steps back, Gregory could hear Lloyd's voice grow louder. A babble of insanity only he could hear.
"Kill them! Kill them all!" Lloyd's voice shouted madly in the back of Gregory mind. "Drink their blood and take their life for your own! Gregory! What are you doing?! Kill them! Kill them now!"
Smiling as if nothing was wrong, Gregory simply blocked the voice out, trying his best not to show any discomfort.
"A-Anyway," He laughed, "I have three main ideas on how to trace Obsidian Snow. The first one involves a man named Jonathan Faust. He was a.... rival to Lloyd in the past. I have reason to believe he was the man who made Obsidian Snow aware of our existence, and currently works for them as an informant. If we can find and capture him, we may be able to use his knowledge to against Obsidian Snow." Gregory Frowned, "I know Faust. He doesn't care what he does or who he works for as long as he can achieve his goals. We simply have to offer him a better deal."
Flipping out a pen, Gregory also opened his journal, scribbling some notes and virtually illegible calculations on a blank page.
"The second idea is a little tougher," He said, talking while he wrote, "Obsidian Snow's a big organization; almost a government of it's own. What I've noticed though, is that the most reliable government records are often their finances, or at the very least, their taxes."
Ripping the page out, Gregory showed off what looked to be a map of London, draw from numbers and symbols, rather than clear lines.
"The money has to come from somewhere," He explained, "Obsidian Snow needs the resources it's members gather/steal in order to survive. We just have to find where the resources are sent, and trace it back to the top. I've already started research on this."
Gregory grinned, "Another thing I've noticed with any large organization: only the higher ranked members have luxury items. If we can trace those, we can find their top officers and leaders."
Putting the pen and notebook away, Gregory's smiled fell, and he sat back in a chair, as if unsure whether he wanted to share his final idea. Pausing for a minute, Gregory took on a darker look as he explained the third idea.
"The vampire." He frowned, clearly disliking this idea, "We can lure him with the modified blood we have left. He seems to be high ranking in his organization. If we can addict him to the modified blood, we can use him to find other high ranking members, and eventually, their leader."
Gregory desperately wanted to avoid such measures, but there was soon becoming little choice in such matters. Freedom and even justice had ironically become luxuries. Eventually, he knew the Requiem may no longer have either the choice, or the right to such things. When that day finally came, he wondered, what would they be fighting for? This monstrous act would just be another step towards that day, and Gregory desperately hoped to avoid it.
The vampire may have been the enemy, but he was a man of honor. Even if he was a criminal, he was worthy of their respect. It was a shame that was something the Requiem could not afford to give. Especially in such times of war.
"Please speak up if either of you have any other ideas," Gregory said, spreading his arms, "Any ideas at all are welcome here. This is the Requiem, after all."

Namir nodded.
"All good ideas. But I have one too. I think we should get someone inside Obsidian snow, not just manipulate the people already there, because you can't trust people who aren't on your side. If we have someone inside then we can easily find at least the financing, if we can find the financing we can follow it, probably, and to some of the higher ups if we're lucky." she examined the map carefully and noticed Gregory's discomfort.
"If you have a headache I can make it go away. Or if you hear that annoying high pitched noise I can stop that, too." she said concerned. She didn't like using the ability but maybe it would help think of a good plan. "Also I think we should find a way to do all three, because it's good to have back up plans. Also, I think finding the vampire, even if we don't use him, is a definite must. He is the key to the blood and from what i've heard about him he must be very close to the top." she sighed for what she had to do next. "And I don't know how we are going to find Faust. From what i've heard on him, he's very intellectual." She caught Jon's eye evaluating her. she ignored it for now. "That plan will be the most difficult. I hate to break it to you but we have no way to start with that at all, it's to flawed. The others should be our focus."

"Really....? You think so?" Gregory smiled slyly, "I- I mean Lloyd, worked alongside Faust for years. If he's still alive, I'm confident we may be able to track him down. The modified blood would make perfect bait to lure him out, as well as the vampire. I doubt Faust would have any qualms betraying Obsidian Snow, if it meant he could gain more power."
Smiling, Gregory placed his arms behind his head, relaxing,
"Not that we'll actually let him, of course." Gregory's smile faded slightly, "I have to say though, you're right. We should go through with all three plans if we can. It- It's the only way we can be sure we'll have a chance to defeat Obsidian Snow. The only question is, where do you want to start? If I had to be perfectly honest, I would say finding Nightmare would be our top priority, at least for the moment. What do you think?"
Gregory's rapidly fading smiled had now become a complete frown. Even though he knew it would be the best way, he couldn't help but dislike the idea of deceiving, and possibly even being forced to torment an honorable man. Criminal or not, Nightmare was a man of loyalty and honor. What the Requiem was doing, even if it was for the sake of justice, was wrong.
But such had always been their way. Perhaps someday, the system might change, but Gregory knew; that day was not today. Someday, he might be able to change the means of justice from within, but not today.
But someday it would change, wouldn't it?
Someday.

Subject 13 walked about the streets humming to her self pleased with the whispers she heard about the fresh new killings. Moving with in the shadows she keep her self out of sight. "so many lovely's" She cocked her head to the side and giggled. "come and find me i want to play" she sang to her self. "give me a new toy to brake" She moved down the street humming to her self at this point. She wanted to find something else to kill really get people going get them in a panic. She new pulling a killing off in day light would do that. She knew the panic it would cause would make her point.

She would stop now and than looking in windows, looking upon things that where new to her. 19 years of being locked away in a whole of stone and metal was no fun....she had missed out on so many things but she could not remember the outside world. For her this was all new this was all a new play ground and she was going to have fun.

Nightmare had only slept a couple hours to avoid wasting too much time; there was much to be done, and one could not waste precious seconds in deep slumber. With his trench coat concealing his firearm, the vampire did well to blend in during daytime. He might need his musket since his powers were severely weakened during day. Being a halfblood vampire brought the benefit of actually being able to walk around in broad daylight without bursting into flames. Nightmare appreciated the freedom of not having to hide in the darkness at all hours, despite the temporary weaknesses the sun brought.

To begin his search, the vampire thought it was best to start on the streets of London, perhaps even speak to some key people. Eavesdropping was the most effective method to uncover any rumours or secrets that may be circulating. As effective as Obsidian Snow intelligence was, word of mouth from locals was almost as effective.
Murmurs of a fresh killing of that recently occurred during the evening: one man slaughtered right in front of his own friend. What they were doing during the night was a mystery, but this news intrigued Nightmare greatly. Every citizen was frightened from the thought or mention of this new serial killer. It could not have been Jack the Ripper again, the Requiem would never have lost her so quickly... This had to be someone, or something different.

One individual stuck out from the crowd. Moving through the shadows, and avoiding commoners was a woman, humming to herself, trotting happily through the streets. She was a young, beautiful woman with long, flowing, black hair. She was not like the others; something set Nightmare's senses off about this one. She did not look to be from the London area. The vampire decided to follow her, and see if she knew anything about the murders. Maybe she could point him in the direction of the new butcher; the killer would make an excellent recruit if their killing skills were adequate, but if the girl knew nothing, then she was to be a meal. Nightmare did not want an interrogation to go to waste.