America, and possibly the entire Earth.

What more can be said beyond the obvious? The slayer and the human fought. There were multiple times Skylar was rendered quite surprised, even confused, by the other woman’s movements. Despite her extensive training, she knew nothing of “traditional” fighting styles. It was never needed for her to. Never did she need to predict another’s movements based on some fighting discipline, she simply listened and felt the air currents. It was quite obvious the woman did not seem to understand that, for her tactic seemed to be promoting confusion though erratic styles. Skylar simply dodged each new attempt, landing a few light taps here and there, to show she could indeed touch the slayer… despite the woman’s inability to catch her.

Eventually, time was up. Naturally, Skylar pointed this fact out. And, also expected, the slayer didn’t pay it any mind. When she got herself into this mess, she figured this would happen. You can never trust anyone to keep their word. Not slayers, not humans, not anyone. Begrudgingly, she kept her focus as the slayer tried a new style. As fate would have it, the woman seemed to gain some resemblance of intelligence. Skylar realized, albeit a tad late, her opponent was utilizing her unfortunate injuries. It was a lowly move, even for someone like Foxy, but she let it go. In the end, she was about to black out anyway, as her eyes were nearly completely unseeing, sparkles materializing under closed lids, and the world was spinning so fast she barely knew left from right. Her breath came out rather violently in hyperventilation. It was over, and she knew it was over. Pretty shitty considering she actually won the bet.

With a slight gasp of pain, she dropped. In one attempt to point out the utter shameful poor sportsmanship, “Time has been up,” she said, voice quiet and extremely strained, “You have no right to kill me right now. The bet is over, and either I’ve won, or it’s considered a tie.” As expected, the she-devil did not hear her. It was some solace, in a way, to at least be complimented before death. At least she went down with honor. Propped up slightly with her elbow, she waited to die with remarkable composure and patience.

It was then the elf spoke. For the first time in minutes, she opened her eyes; a look of genuine surprise overtook her features. It was a welcome intervention, though it pissed her off. Everyone keeps saying she lost. For god’s sake, she didn’t lose! She made it the whole fucking three minutes—which really, was a feat in itself in her condition—not getting hit once. It wasn’t part of the bet to down the other, all she had to do was land a touch. And she did. Hell, she did in the first move. What the hell was wrong with these people? Closing her eyes, she accepted the fact that, as a human, she would never be good enough for these people. It was something that had to be accepted, with silent resignation, just like everything else. The sad part was, it wasn’t even the most disappointing thing she had to accept today.
Spacing out for a little bit of time, she listened to a low, beastly growl. It was continuous, almost unrealistic. Her eyes widened slightly when she stole a glance at the blurred creature transforming into another creature. Still, she remained where she was. Mostly because she had over exerted herself dodging whilst dying.

Suddenly, at least to the mentally exhausted Skylar, the air flowed around her and another presence passed. All she did was blink as the new slayer, obviously the black-haired DeKnight, exchanged poses and words and looks and silence with Foxy—er, Depravity. Vaguely, she wondered why he was dubbed “Kin Killer,” but set the thought aside. When the red-headed beast finally left, Skylar blinked for a moment before painstakingly dragging herself up off the floor. She stood awkwardly for a moment, breathing hard from overexertion. Too much blood had been lost. Somewhat composed, or at least trying to be, she nodded to Shae. “Th—“ she paused to keep from stuttering, due to pain, “Thanks… I owe you one.”

Looking over at the demon, and the new slayer, she bit her lip slightly, nodding to herself for seemingly no reason. Slowly, she took in the damaged building. “I would say this is no longer a suitable place to stay…” she mumbled. “Humans will be coming soon to gawk at the mess…”

Then, suddenly getting another wave of uncontaminated pain, she shut up for a moment. When she did speak, it was nearly inaudible. “I…m… I’m going to…call it a day,” taking a pitiful, yet somehow graceful walk to the dismantled wall, she looked back for a moment. “You can call me… if you need me. I’m used to bein’ on call…” With a final nod, she walked off, leaving a trail of blood as she walked around the building and down the road. She didn’t make it that far.

Finally, she passed out.

Shae watched with apparent dispassionate interest as the female Slayer grew, and mutated. She did shift her stance marginally, moving so that she stood more on the balls of her feet, ready to roll out of the way should the hideous creature charge her. She had watched as it seemed surprised by the burn pain that she had dealt it, and found the sight of it scrambling at the small cut amusing, though she didn't move. Shae was still as unmovable rock, sword and whip held high, ready to engage in combat if the Slayer female so chose that. She was aware of the barely conscious human and grimaced, and she was aware of the Demon, Nirvana, who simply watched the attack. A part of her wondered why he had not intervened. Had he not seen the necessity of ending this pathetic battle?

She then frowned as the females transformation froze, and even from her position she could tell that she was now fighting another battle - and this one was internal, or against some other force she was not aware of. And it was then that Shae saw the real Slayer Champion step out of the shadows, and she pursed her lips with distaste. So now there were two of the despicable creatures in the room. Shae stepped back as he stepped forwards, melting subtly back into the shadows to watch their exchange.

So the two Slayers competed for the Championship of their Agency. How disorganized. Of course, they likely had their excuses, but that was no reason. Each of the other Agencies had selected a single Champion. They had worked their way to the top through fair combat, and if the so called 'real' Slayer would not fight the female one, then how could they trust that they had the best of that Agency? How could they trust that they had not been lied to? This male would have some explaining to do.

And then the female one walked out. She had not payed too much attention to their exchange of sharp words, but had understood that the female refused to fight the male, but that she had declared war on the lot of them. She couldn't care less for their words, or their titles. Among the people here, titles meant nothing. They all had them.

How fan-bloody-tastic. She wasn't one to use the more fouler words of the Human tongue, but that seemed to sum up the events of the time that had passed since she first entered the room. And then she realised that the human had somehow dragged herself to her feet, and had addressed her. "Th-Thanks...I owe you one" Skylar's words were thin and weak, but Shae understood the sentiment behind them. She nodded once in acknowledgement, and turned to face the human as she continued.

Shae spoke softly to her as she walked away "I wouldn't go too far alone, hu - Skylar" She forced herself to speak to the human as an equal, and use her given name. As much as she despised the human race, their Champion had exhibited courage and combat skills to rival some of her Elvish friends. Shae then watched as Skylar walked away, looking out of the crumbled window so that she could keep her gaze on her long enough to see her collapse.

Shae looked at the others left in the room. The two males, Nirvana and 'Gabriel'. She smirked as she put her weapons away, and spoke directly to them. "I will retrieve the Human Champion. You should collect whatever you desire to bring with us...It wouldn't be wise to stay here any longer" Shae paused to examine the whip for a moment before looking back up, and speaking straight to the male Slayer "Thank you. For intervening. No doubt you know our names already, but I am - " She glanced to Nirvana to include him in her introduction too "Shae"

And with that, the Elf turned and strode purposefully down the Road to recover the Human Champion.

Gabe only stared at them.

This was definitely one of the more interesting groups he'd been assigned to. These Champions were actually... impressive to a degree, to be able to stand up to Depravity like that. Foolish, perhaps, for challenging her, but impressive nonetheless. Especially this human—this "Skylar".

Gabe turned his head slightly, recalling the fight between Skylar and Depravity. The female Slayer might be as bright as a bag of coal, but when it came to hand-to-hand combat, she was a genius. He'd never seen anyone so effortlessly outmaneuver Depravity before. No one—not even him. Worse, she was a human. If he hadn't witnessed it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.

Skylar, human champion of the CIA. Definitely a name and title he would have to remember. Too bad she wasn't picked up by BLOOD as a child. She would have made for an excellent Slayer. Gabe also made note of the conversation surrounding this "William," supposed head of the CIA. Something to report later.

"Thank you. For intervening." the Elf, Shae, said to him before introducing herself. Gabe nodded slightly in acknowledgement. He intervened only because MAVD could not be allowed to war with the other agencies. Not with Nix so close. So decrees Alera Elma. He chose to intervene as late as he did because he had to be sure: if these Champions were not able to hold their own against Depravity in her playful mood, they would only become baggage to be carried later. They met his expectations though—no, exceeded them. He honestly didn't expect them all to survive. Fascinating, that they got as far as they did.

Gabe's eyes drifted to the whip in the Elf's hands. It was a dangerous weapon that imparted some sort of adverse effect on Depravity upon contact—one intense enough to make her lose control. Granted, the female Slayer was infamous for flying off the handle at the smallest provocation, but this could be something else entirely.

Another topic of significance, to be reported later.

Finally, there was the Demon—the one known as "Nirvana". Gabe hadn't witnessed much of what the Demon could do, but he knew his technique relied heavily upon the use of shadows. He'd encountered Demons like that before—their abilities were a nuisance if you were on the wrong side of them. When he was masking his presence, it was with the Demon that Gabriel had had the most trouble. Sure, he didn't notice the Slayer standing mere feet away from him, but only just barely. Any less concentration on Gabe's part and the Demon would've noticed him. Any more and the Demon would have noticed the powerful influence Gabe was exerting over the room.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets—careful not to crinkle the black latter—the Slayer stared through his mask at the Demon.

BLOOD was surely the greatest of the agencies, Gabe knew this to be fact... but these Champions were not to be underestimated.

At the appearance of the new figure between himself and the Elf woman, Nirvana narrowed his eyes. He was overcome with a wave of disappointment in himself. How the hell had he not noticed this earlier? The demon cursed his rampant thoughts. Such distractions could really end up being the death of him one day! It was with this in mind that he began to dislike the male immediately after spotting him. Damned Slayer. Making him look like a young and dumb imp.

The she-beast and the new character had a rather tense exchange, one that Nirvana regarded with rapidly decreasing interest. The fighting had ceased and, since the she-beast appeared to be very intimidated by this new figure (the long-awaited Champion, he supposed), he assumed that all of the excitement had since been sapped from this whole encounter. Nirvana gave a disdainful sniff. He decided that he would rather take this Slayer over the other psychopath, however, and thus, he was relatively satisfied.

He observed the Champion Slayer, looking his figure up and down, and back again, scrutinizing him for anything that vied for his interest. It was less of a disappointment this time around, which was a plus. This guy looked as if he had a semblance of an idea of what he was doing and who he was dealing with. But that explained very little. Why had the Slayer done nothing, absolutely nothing, when his psycho colleague was losing her mind and venting her monumental temper on the other three, who were actually supposed to be there, unlike the crazy she-Slayer. Being the Champion, he should at least have the sense enough to properly discipline his subordinates, and teach them what would and what would not be tolerated. How... irresponsible. Nothing like this would have been stood for where Nirvana came from, and this differentiation from what he was used to was starting to get on his nerves more and more.

He turned his attention to the human girl as she thanked the Elf woman, strength obviously fading away with every passing moment. For a mere heartbeat, he felt a twinge of pity for the young woman. It wasn't her fault she was weak. Some were just born that way, and she was not one of the lucky ones, he decided, that had not been born human.

The demon supposed, though, that what she said was true; remaining in that damn house with a hole the size of a behemoth in the wall was not the best of plans. There would probably be investigators arriving on the scene as soon as they caught word of the destruction. The last thing Nirvana wanted to do was encounter more creatures of different species than he was absolutely required to, and he'd been told that he'd only have to deal with three of them, and so far, all they'd managed to do was get into a skirmish with one another. Of course he'd done nothing to interfere with that little conflict. He was not allowed to. It just wasn't done where he came from. Damn cultural differences. Not only that, but he'd also sort of wanted to see how it would have turned out if he hadn't. And, lo and behold, this had happened.

The human left, a trail of blood following behind the badly injured human (she really, really needed some medical attention), and he peeked outside just as she hit the ground. It was quite a bit easier to keep from laughing, now that he'd had some practice. The scene was still a bit comical. Poor, poor human. How pitiable.

The elf said something more, and introduction, an official one. She spoke her name (which Nirvana already knew, but formalities were a thing he was accustomed to), and Nirvana inclined his head ever-so-slightly, saying nothing in response. When she left, Nirvana begrudgingly returned his attention to the Slayer male, sizing him up a bit more. He appeared a bit more dangerous than the previous Slayer. How exciting. How terribly threatening. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. More tolerable or not, a Slayer was a Slayer. Never to be trusted. Never to be treated as equals. All they were was trash, through and through. He continued to shamelessly stare at the masked Slayer for a good moment or two, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. He was prone to doing things that were out of the social norm every once in a while. Inconsequential things, like this, like staring. Yeah, he tended to stare at people. If they were uncomfortable with it, they could look away. Out of sight, out of mind. At least, as far as the lesser beings were concerned, Nirvana assumed.

He was about to say something very stupid, and stopped himself just in time by biting his tongue, almost enough to pierce it and draw blood with his teeth. Something addressing the cultural discrepancies amongst the group thus far, that had begun to grow more and more obvious. But then, he surmised that the Slayer probably either hadn't caught on, or hadn't cared. None of them probably cared. Damn them all, ignorant infidels. Besides, speaking to a Slayer was something else that just wasn't done. It just. Wasn't. Done.

Nirvana sighed heavily, gripping his sickle a bit tighter in his bony hand. Without saying a word, he turned away from the Slayer (the one he had assumed was the Champion, and was sure he was right this time), and sauntered out the door after the elf and the human. Keeping from whistling or putting some extra bounce in his step took a bit more energy, but what else was he supposed to do to lighten the mood? His expression soured when he thought that. He was a demon. He didn't need to lighten the mood. After all, everyone knew that demons were best suited to the darkness instead.

Immediately after the Demon exited what remained of their old meeting place, Gabe pulled out his phone. The civilian "police forces" would be arriving here soon—Depravity had made too loud a commotion with her juvenile stunts and general affinity for pandemonium.

After a few taps, the line rang once—only once—before someone answered. You've reached LSAD: Mission Control, Slayer Kin Killer. How may I help you?
"I'm calling in a contingency four on the Nix meeting. Priority one."
Understood, Slayer Kin Killer. There was the brief melody of rapid keystrokes and barked orders in the background. Slayer Kin Killer, your backup will be arriving momentarily. The Executive Director has been notified as well. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Gabe shook his head, momentarily forgetting he was talking on the phone. "No," he said flatly and hung up.

Upon exiting the building, one could just make out the faint whirl of police sirens in the distance. These humans work fast.

The Elf, Shae, had already managed to catch up with Skylar. The Demon wasn't too far behind. Gabe picked up his pace to keep up. He couldn't have them getting too far away, not yet.

It wasn't five minutes before a new sound began to pervade the air: the low-pitched murmur of helicopter blades. The Slayer smiled to himself. BLOOD works fast, too.

The helicopter only got louder as it approached. Soon, the hulking aerial vehicle was hovering directly over them.

It was a MH-47G to be exact; a pitch black dual rotor military helicopter sporting fully-loaded chain guns on the left and right side, like in the movies. The guns were manned by gunners. Their hands were on their triggers, ready for anything. The aerial vehicle hovered above the ground slightly, whooshing rotor blades shaking loose bits of dirt and debris.

UNITED STATES ARMY was etched onto the side in an off-brown color. The tendrils of BLOOD sure did reach far.

Rotating so that its nose faced away from the group, the back of the helicopter seemed to come loose, forming a ramp with the ground. No sooner had this ramp touched the dirt road did the occupants of the helicopter's interior hop out. Upon seeing the Slayer in front of them, they each took a knee and bowed their heads. Gabriel, coat flapping in the artificial gale, casually made his way up to them.

They were some of the indoctrinated human slaves BLOOD used to accomplish menial tasks. The white overcoats they wore—a sign of a human slave working for BLOOD—had been stamped with the agency's insignia. Without looking up, the slave on the left spoke up first, shouting over the deafening whoosh of the helicopter blades.

"Slayer, sir! We received notice that you phoned in contingency four." He quickly scanned the area, a bemused expression fresh upon his face. "Is the area clear, sir?"

Ah, yes. Contingency four was the hypothetical situation wherein he and Depravity had come to do battle with each other. They'd brought this hulking gun ship to provide air support against her—probably with the intent of providing suppression fire while the others escaped. Honestly, it would've been useful had the situation come to that. Well, at least until the she Slayer became sufficiently annoyed by the chopper and knocked it out of the sky.

Gabe decided to call in the fourth contingency because it was the only one that accounted for both a destroyed complex and potential medical emergencies among the other less durable of his teammates. They would board the military vehicle and be airlifted to a backup facility a few dozen miles north of here—one MAVD had no idea about. The trip would hopefully be on the shorter side of an hour in length.

It was then that Gabe remembered that the slave had asked something of him. Instead of replying, he pointed toward Skylar, whom was being propped up by Shae. At first the slave didn't understand, but, after taking in the scene for a few moments, nodded in comprehension. "Understood, sir," he shouted over the rotors, turning back towards the helicopter. "MEDIC!"

Gabriel turned to stare at the others, the tails of his overcoat whipping about the ground. They'd be taking a leap of faith here, boarding this vehicle with him. To the best of his knowledge, neither they nor their respective agencies knew of this secondary location. He was definitely getting on the helicopter no matter their various decisions—walking was out of the question, and the civilian authorities would be arriving any minute.

Gabe struck an impatient pose that said Are you coming or not? The choice to board this craft would be their own.

OOC: If Shae so chooses to bring her into the vehicle, Skylar will receive medical treatment, thereby allowing her to "become conscious" ^^

As Shae approached the female human, she grimaced. The stench of blood and death lingered around her like a heavy veil. Stepping up to where she had collapsed, her boots squelched in the blood soaked mud, and she grimaced with distaste as she knelt beside Skylar. Not even Shae understood why she gave the weak female these courtesies, except that she had earned the peace of death with her bravery against the hulking mass that had been the female Slayer. Glancing back, she observed that the Demon, silent as ever, was walking away from the male Slayer who was just taking out a phone. Shae rolled her eyes. She would never understand the dependency on electrical devices.

Shrugging, Shae removed her cloak, which she then tucked around the human woman, in an attempt to make her more comfortable. At the same time, she fought against the Bloodlust she felt at the scent of Skylar's life blood trickling into the ground. Breathing through her mouth, Shae then searched within her pockets, and drew out a single tiny vial of golden liquid. Holding it up to the light, she exhaled slowly, and closed her eyes. This was precious to her. It had been a gift from her Agency as she had left, and they had called it a Drop of Sun, for inside the vial, the liquid seemed to glimmer with the same potency of the Sun in the sky. Shae sighed and then opened the vial with a small click of the latch. Opening Skylar's mouth, she allowed a single droplet of the precious liquid slip between the woman's lips. Shae hoped that it would work to restore some of her exhausted energy. Stashing the remains of the Sun liquid into her pocket, Shae looked up just in time to see the whirring of aerial vehicles. Sighing, Shae shook her head a little.

The one that landed closest was evidently of BLOOD origin, as Gabriel seemed to approach the human slaves that leaped from the helicopter with the same sort of authority that she herself possessed when surrounded with the younger members of DEPTH. She was too far away to hear their words over the whirring of the rotors, but understood the gist. BLOOD had been summoned to carry them off. Her lip curled in distaste, Shae looked out over the horizon, knowing that soon the human race would be teeming all over this site like ants, with their cameras and their reports and their mindless chattering.

She found Gabriel, stood, obviously waiting to see if he would be joined by the rest of the Agencies Champions. Shae glanced back at the house they had destroyed before standing and moving to join him. As much as she hated the thought of 'running away', using the resources of BLOOD, and catered for by their human slaves, Shae didn't see that she had much choice. But then she stopped, and looked back at Skylar. She evidently wouldn't be joining them of her own accord, so, grimacing at the thought of it, Shae stooped and picked the human up, carrying her like a child in her arms. At least BLOOD would be able to get her the medical aid that she needed. Not deigning to look down at the human she held in her arms, and hoping that no other Elves would see her lowered to such a level, Shae carried Skylar over to the transport.

Two eyes watched everything carefully, keeping a generous distance. They were about to take off in a helicopter. Oh, fantastic. Now she’d have to stay hidden in the sky. Humph. She hoped Norm had kept quiet about all this, feigning some sort of ignorance. It simply wouldn’t do to have her "agency" after her in addition to hiding from the other four. This was complicated enough as it was. As 3 of 4 agents boarded the helicopter, the mystery girl held her breath. It would need to be timed flawlessly. If she followed too closely, they’d discover her. If she followed too far back, she’d lose them. Hm…

On the other hand, Skylar was still very much unconscious. Granted, the human wouldn’t be very happy when she regained consciousness, so it was probably for the best she wasn’t aware of BLOOD's helicopter whisking them away. Because, in all honesty, she would have rather walked. Especially considering she hadn’t been in a flying vehicle since her accident. And, then, there was the fact her agency was trying to kill her off… Oh, and her general reluctance to not know her fate. Jeez… it was really good she was unconscious. God help them all if she wakes up in her mental condition.

On another note, she was no longer on the edge of death, thanks to some odd restoration of energy. So, yeah. That’s a bonus. Way to go, Skylar, for escaping death 3 times in one day. It’s close to an old record, though she wouldn’t remember that. Yet. It was coming, though, as the flashbacks plagued her closed eyes. Real memories, for once. Oh, god help them all…

Meanwhile…

“Sir?”

The voice was a timid voice, obviously terrified of the behemoth it addressed. The man wasn’t small, or even frail or lacking in muscle, yet still he felt some hesitation. Anyone would, when Nix—god of destruction—was your boss. The secretary trembled slightly as he held the black and red files, patiently awaiting his boss’ acknowledgement. He shifted his weight from one side to the other. This would take a while.

Aeron, himself, was staring out of the large windowed tower, observing seemingly thousands of little ants marching haphazardly below. He was hiding in plain sight amongst the humans, much like hidden supernaturals do. It was a good two minutes before he regained enough focus to actually answer his secretary. “Yes?”

The secretary was clearly startled by the sudden acknowledgement; he worked to regain his composure. “Y-yes, sir. I have some files for you, sir. It would seem the other agencies have formed a team to overcome you, sir. BLOOD, DEPTH, the CIA, and SPARK, sir. I have the files for you, sir. What course of action would you recommend, si—“

“—Honestly, if you keep calling me ‘sir’ every sentence I’m going to replace you,” came a bored, and annoyed, voice.

“Y-y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir! I mean—um,” the man struggled with himself, clearly assuming the word replacement implied death, yet finding himself unable to resist habit. “My apologies, s…so, what course of action would you recommend?”

Sighing, Aeron shook his head. “Keep an eye on them, I suppose. Assuming, of course, someone already took the initiative to send a spy after them?” He raised a brow expectantly, turning in place to retrieve the files. And by retrieve, I mean hold out a hand tiredly while his secretary stepped forward to hand them over. The smaller man seemed to perk up a bit. “Why, yes, sir! The current events up to this point are included in the report file. I have arranged for ongoing updates telepathically.”

Staring at the elated man for a moment, Aeron furled a brow slightly and turned back towards the window. Having nothing better to do, he started skimming over the red files. “And to whom did you assign this mission? I’m not aware of many telepaths in our ranks.”

“Oh, it was the ghost, sir, she volunteered.”

Aeron visibly paused. “Ghost…? I was not informed of any ghost joining the program.”

“Well, perhaps she was an elf—her ears were pointed, sir. Or perhaps an odd human… I’m not sure.”

“…You do realize it’s your job to know and be sure of everything I am not,” he shook his head, trying to figure out who the other guy was talking about. Honestly, the god of destruction was more than befuddled. A heavy sigh was heaved into the atmosphere. “Well, what did she look like?”

Blinking, the secretary thought rapidly. Not doing one’s job, whatever it was Nix attributed to one’s job, was a dangerous thing. At least, he assumed so. Straightening, and tensing slightly, he pointed to the folders. “In the file, sir. Everything’s in the files. The white one. You’ll find everything on her there. Will that be everything, sir?”
Tilting his head to the side, Aeron hesitated. Finally, “Hmph… Yes, Norm. That will suffice.”

As the secretary turned on his heal and left, a little too hastily, Aeron stalked over to his desk and dug through the folders. He picked out four red ones and a white one, leaving the black report file for later. There was another red file, adorned with black streaks, indicating an unrelated profile. He would later find out about Depravity and all that happened, but as of now he was more concerned with this mysterious agent. Upon opening the file and scanning the picture, it was not of anyone he knew.

“Huh…” Looking over the contents, cover to cover, he still didn’t recognize his supposed agent. However, the file was official and bore the wax seal of his insignia ring. Was he just getting forgetful in his advancing age, or what? It had his seal, which meant he had obviously seen it before, yet he had never laid eyes on it before. Continuing to stare at the white file, he finally threw his hands up in surrender. He hadn’t seen it, he decided, and it was important that he investigate this mysterious intruder.

So, wearing dark jeans, military boots, a black tank top, and silver dog tags, he walked off to the runway. It was time to try out one of those fighter planes he had been eyeing. Oh joy. The large boat rolled over the rhythmic waves, adding to his excitement. He was like a child, almost, overjoyed at getting a new toy to play with, being forced to stare at it, and then FINALLY getting it out of the packaging. His face held an expectant smirk all the way to the cockpit. A few moments later, he was in the air, radioing Norm for coordinates. “No, I didn’t read all the files. I skimmed some. What are the coordinates? Yes, I know I could send someone else, but I don’t want to. What are the goddamn coordinates?”

A few minutes later, he was heading roughly towards the middle of nowhere, in a simply fantastic mood. Not only was his curiosity piqued, he got to play with his toy. It was a good day.

OOC: I will add the mystery girl's sheet in a little while. ^^ It's basically just so Nix will have a reason to come, and provide some possible leverage against him. Heh...

It took Nirvana a little mental cajoling to board the helicopter.

Well, not so much a little as it was quite a lot, actually. It wasn't his fault he had issues with things like this, not his fault that he was not accustomed to such high-tech machinery. Hell, he'd never even seen a cellular telephone in person until a few minutes prior. But helicopters were different. They were much, much different. He'd seen them before. He knew what their purpose was. In fact, he didn't even have any problem with helicopters until that moment, when it became apparent that the helicopter was there for the use of the team. Meaning, if he wanted to get anywhere with these people, climbing into that thing was probably the most efficient way to proceed. But, that didn't mean it was what he would have preferred to do.

When he'd first come into his range of vision, his initial assumption was that it was some sort of transport for the humans to observe the commotion caused by that whack-job of a Slayer. However, it soon occurred to him that this very well might have been the new Slayer's doing. Admittedly, Nirvana gave a tiny jump when he saw that the vehicle appeared to be under the possession of the human military. But his thoughts were assuaged when he saw that the humans inside were held under the Slayer's allegiance. When he thought a bit more on that, he became a tiny bit more set on edge than beforehand, but he supposed it was better than the confounded human posse of news-hounds.

His gaze shifted to the elf woman, cradling in her arms the human female as though she were some sort of invalid or small child, and not the strongest and most capable of her race. The demon would have laughed had his stomach not been twisted into a painful knot. The elf seemed to be perfectly okay with just climbing on board the Slayer-tainted air transport machine. He still wasn't sure which was more unsettling; the fact that the elf was not bothered at all by this or the fact that the Slayer had so easily summoned a helicopter that had appeared to belong to the human race, and not the damned Slayers. He squinted and blinked, trying to clear his thoughts (what a joke that was), and remaining motionless otherwise.

There was a good part of him that screamed at him to get the hell away from that vehicle, and that filthy Slayer too. That part didn't trust the Slayer in the slightest, which no demon rightly should. Everything was happening too quickly for his liking. Not ten minutes ago, everyone had been sitting in a perfectly intact building, leering contemptuously at one another. That, he was perfectly comfortable with. He could've gone at that all damn day without a hitch. He was used to it. Suddenly, he was faced with the option to board a helicopter with people he barely knew and would probably love to watch him die painfully, or go on his own merry way. And this was where there was the discrepancy between the voices. While there was a great part of his mind that wanted nothing more than to turn tail and get away from those despicable creatures, there was another opinion to contend with: The Voice of Reason. Its voice was not a raging growl, but rather, a coaxing murmur, but still prominent nonetheless. It beckoned him towards the helicopter, whispering promises of how things would be fine, he wouldn't get jumped, or pushed, or anything, and how the filthy Slayer appeared too smart to do anything stupid like that. He took a small step forward, as though he'd been physically nudged rather than mentally. It was just a helicopter. It was just a helicopter. It was just. A. Helicopter. DON'T BE stupid.

What really helped him make up his mind was the thought of the reaction of his Adjutrix, his Right Hand, back at SPARK. This brought a small, nigh-unnoticeable smile to his lips as he thought of her angry features, and how she would scowl and look down her nose at him in disgust (although she was shorter than himself by quite a margin). She would probably say something along the lines of, "You despicable weakling! The 'great and almighty' Vindicem afraid of a simple vehicle? Pff! Pathetic. You don't deserve your title, you craven maggot!" This was quite the motivator, indeed, because before Nirvana knew it, he had picked up the pace and had ended up boarding the helicopter, right behind the elf and the human. He paused shortly before actually entering, though. A small voice in his head told him to turn around, just turn around and look, but he didn't. If he stopped focusing on the task at hand, he would back down.

After boarding, and looking around warily still, he posed a question to no one in particular: "Where are we headed, exactly?"

They were in the air for no more than half an hour when an alarm—an ominous beep beep beep—began to emanate from somewhere in the helicopter's cockpit.

"Colonel!" The pilot said, immediately gaining the attention of the man who was sitting across from Gabriel.

Without moving any other part of his body, Gabe turned his head to glare at the pilot. Without making a noise, he waited. This didn't sound like good news.

"We have a bogey coming in at angels twenty and descending. Judging from the size and speed, I'd say it's USAF sir."

Gabe stood. "Establish communications," he ordered. "Tell them to get lost."

"Yes, sir." The pilot then began to fidget with a few knobs, handing a headset to the Colonel. The man spoke into the device with the measured controlled tone of a military man. "Attention unknown aircraft, this is Lieutenant Colonel Quartz N-Zero-Eight-One-Nine-Papa-Quebec of the United States Air Force. You are flying dangerously low for such a high speed, son. Identify yourself."

There was no response, save static. The pilot nodded once, and the man—Colonel Quartz—repeated his message.

"I repeat: this is Lieutenant Colonel Quartz N-Zero-Eight-One-Nine-Papa-Quebec of the United States Air Force. Identify yourself."

Static again. Quartz looked back at Gabriel, who did not acknowledge his actions.

"Sir!" The pilot spoke in an unhurried but anxious tone. "The aircraft is closing in on our position, 2km out, angels fifteen and falling." The beeping noise had increased in frequency. "If he doesn't alter his course, he'll drop down right on top of us!" The Colonel took that as his cue to switch tactics.

"Unidentified aircraft, this craft is armed for aerial combat. Throttle back or increase altitude immediately or be considered a hostile," he said, cavalierly adding "we want to see your vapes."

Not waiting for a response this time, Gabe took the initiative. "Prepare to engage," he said flatly.

"Sir," the Colonel began, "something that fast, with that much control. It has to be a military fighter jet. USAF—to be able to make it into United States airspace. If we engage, he'll no doubt send this copter back to the taxpayers, not to mention us—"

"I heard the pilot, slave." Gabe growled. "Prepare to engage."

"Yes, sir!" The colonel turned to the pilots. "Bobby, Dennis, if he keeps on course, jink this fucker." He then turned to his two gunners, who stood up from where they were sitting, white coats swishing elegantly. "You two: fangs out, boys! Looks like we'll be giving this fighter jock a little taste of what we can do." The two white coats took positions at the turrets at each side of the chopper. The pilots began flipping various switches. Sounds could be heard as parts of the helicopter reconfigured themselves—preparing as best they could for a dogfight of sorts against a vastly superior opponent.

Just then, two things happened, almost simultaneously. Firstly, Gabe felt something similar to fear. No, not as in he experienced the emotion himself; quite the contrary, he sensed what he could only describe as a surprise revelation from someone else in the general vicinity. In the helicopter. In order for Gabe to "feel" it with his Phobia—his mental ability—it had to have been intense, bordering on fear. Gabe turned his head towards the perceived source of this disturbance... and his eyes fell almost immediately upon Nirvana. However, before Gabe could fully take in the situation, the pilot of the fighter jet finally decided to radio back.

Contrary to their plans, seems the enemy of the world had come to them instead.

Shae handed the humans limp body over to a medic as soon as she was on board the helicopter, letting her keep the now bloodied cloak. Turning away from the mess that was the weak female with a contemptuous grimace, Shae took a seat against the side of the vehicle. Shifting uncomfortably, she watched Nirvana for amusement. His fear, for fear it was, radiated from him like stinking waves of heat, and it amused her. So, for a few brief moments, she watched him.

While the humans milled about, going about the various tasks that she assumed kept this hulking monstrosity of steel and clumsy human mechanics in the sky, in a way that reminded her disgustingly of ants under the magnifying glass that was Gabriel. Their almost fearful admiration of the Slayer was actually a little bit pitiful, as she regarded the male with an indifference that suited the cold way she thought of him. Nirvana on the other hand, was freaking out because of the trust he was being forced to put in the Slayer and his metal vehicle. Although she wasn't entirely comfortable in this helicopter either, it amused her that a being that thought he was better than her, trembled with fear.

It was then that the shrill human tones started mumbling about another helicopter on course to intercept them. This peaked Shae's interest, and she stood to listen in. Apparently Gabriel was preparing for to combat them. She smiled, ready to see what this Nix being was actually like.

Aeron was having a grand ol time. Honestly, how could he not have a good time? Anyone with some tiny shred of humanity would enjoy themselves when flying in a life-sized RC jet. It was like childhood, but so much better. So much better. He was living the dream.

After…eh, about half an hour, he came up behind this army helicopter. US air force, like his baby. Whoever was inside, they freaked out. They didn’t even know it was the god of destruction coming up on their tails, and still they flipped out. A little pathetic, but… hey, humans are humans. Now, Nix was a pretty good guy. At least, he thought so. Instead of up and saying, hey—I’m Nix and I’m riding up on your ass, he just kept quiet and continued on his mission. It wasn’t his problem. They weren’t important. At least, that’s what he assumed.

Well, the damn bastards didn’t know how to mind their own business. He was just chillin, riding in his jet, and then they threaten him. It was comical, really, the little chopper talking smack to his badass—I mean, come on, his plane is called a Fighting Falcon. F-16 Fighting Falcon. The name alone is enough to kill a man! Yet, here they are, prepping their firepower with some shred of bravery. No—not bravery, stupidity. Like they would ever win that battle. Pfft… Idiots. I should just take off and leave them be. The little maggots. No, no—better idea. How fun would it be to see what this baby can do? Hm… tempting, very tempting… Aw, screw it. Don’t take it too personally, boys. It’s just, I need to get even.

He was about to shoot their sorry asses out of the sky, but a quick thought managed to catch his attention, causing him to hesitate. While his hand hovered over the shiny launch button of temptation, a tiny voice of reason came stumbling forward like the drunken fool it was. His “spy” could potentially be on that aircraft, so it would be best not to play target practice on them. Oh, bother. People are always ruining things for you. Well, he can always shoot them down later, after checking, right?

Despite that slight disappointment—you know, having missiles and not using them—he was still in a good mood. It was just so damn hysterical, these people. These poor saps. It was impossible—he couldn’t get over it. Pushing a button on his headset, “Hey, Norm. Get me info on this little chopper I found. The guy said he was…eh… damn these titles, so hard to remember. Okay—Colonel… Quebec…N-zero-uh…nine, one, papa-Quartz? Aw, shit. Switch Quartz and Quebec. Fill in the blanks. You’re a smart lad, figure it out. Is our mystery girl in there?”

After that quick inquiry, which Norm answered in record time, he noticed they were just about ready to fire on him. Well, shit. He’d have to stop them pretty quick—wouldn’t want to get gunpowder on his baby, eh? Shaking his head, almost in disbelief of these people, he engaged the appropriate knobs and switches, bringing the handset up to his lips. Let me tell you—he tried not to laugh his ass off, really he did, but it was a futile struggle. When the button was pushed, all that could be heard over the static was a low, very amused chuckle. “Whoa there, Colonel. Hold your fire, hold your fire,” he teased.

“I’m not hostile, here. I’m not the type to get pissed off and go around looking for fights. I’m the type that only gets even when he’s wronged. So, you fire on me… I’ll fire on you. ‘Tis only fair, after all. And we all know how that will end, hm? You be a good soldier, mate. Though, you probably shouldn’t sell your soul to the slayers. I mean, what about the constitution? I was so happy when they finally passed the thirteenth amendment. Hell, they probably call you slave to your face, eh? And you call yourself a respectful colonel. Of the air force, no less. Pfft. Pisses me off, it does. But, I digress. Your choice. So, where’s this team my secretary’s freaking out about?”

There was a slight pause, then, as though an afterthought: “Oh, right, right. Identification. How rude of me. This is Aeron Nixon, also known as Nix: god of destruction. Alright, look. BLOOD, Slayer, whatever your name is—I didn’t have time to check the report on y’all, I’m a busy guy—I’ll be honest with you. I have about a million better things to be doing with my time right now—particularly, getting lunch. I’m starving over here. I’ve been starving. But, as fate would have it, before I can go stop by a pizza joint somewhere, I have to take care of this situation right here,” he heaved a sigh, a very heavy sigh.

“You see, I’ve got some unidentified rogue spy chick somewhere around here. Not exactly sure if she’s in your chopper, or what. I’m assuming she doesn’t want to be found, after going through all the trouble of forging papers… It’s a long story, and I just found out about it 40 minutes ago. Surely, one of you must’ve sensed her, hm? What, with your awesome ‘champion’ prowess. Anyway, I don’t want that girl in your chopper, or anywhere doing anything in my name. Not until I know who the hell she is—and, even then, can’t say I really care what all of you do with your lives. I’m hoping you’ll be understanding and cordial about this whole matter. I’m suggesting you park your ass down by route 66, I’ll touch down, we exchange a cordial handshake or two, I find and retrieve my mysterious bug, and then we all go about our separate ways. Eh?”

As soon as the helicopter left the stability of the ground, Nirvana was almost positive he had made a huge mistake. If he had had the capacity to pray, that is probably what he would have been doing. On the inside, at least. It wasn't that he was afraid of the height or anything, but rather, just extremely uncomfortable with the entire situation he was in. Why? Well, for quite a number of reasons, and that number just kept growing and growing. In reality, he'd never thought that he could be so agitated about just being somewhere. This wouldn't have been the first time he'd proved himself wrong.

First of all, the helicopter. Uncomfortable as fuck. He didn't like being in the air. He wanted solid, stable, firm ground instead of feeling like the floor could collapse any minute and he could plummet straight down to his death. That was more a matter of his imagination running away with him, but it unnerved him just the same. He'd never been this high up before. He didn't like it. His mind had begun to race, and his heart had begun to race, shooting adrenaline-laced blood through his system, doing nothing but fueling his growing discomfort and budding apprehension. For the umpteenth time, Nirvana began to doubt his decision. He could've just asked for the destination and walked there by himself. He would have been much better off. At least, that was what a great number of his thoughts attempted to convince him.

Another issue that he still hadn't properly gotten over just then was his company, the other Champions. The Slayer was a problem in and of itself, but it soon became evident to Nirvana that this wasn't the only problem he was having with the other living beings he was surrounded by. As they progressed through the air, he found it gradually growing more and more difficult to maintain his composure. Damn! He'd worked hard trying to keep his cool, and there was no way he was going to render all of that effort invalid! He'd already almost lost it earlier, just by talking, for crying out loud, and he'd be damned (not the good way, either) if he'd let himself, the fucking demon Champion, flip his shit because he didn't like flying through the air who-knows-how fast in a glorified tin can surrounded by what had to have been the single most undesirable team he had ever been on.

All this was running through his head, not to mention the fact that there was still a small part of him beseeching, begging him to take a moment and sift through all the presences he sensed, because, apparently, something was sticking out like a sore thumb, and part of him wanted to find out who the hell it was that reeked of holiness-

Holiness.

Once he'd thought the word, it spread to the rest of his inner voices like a poisonous wildfire. He'd never felt more sick to his very core. With this, his one tiny voice of reason, the one that had first discovered What Did Not Belong, murmured in triumph. What had at first been a tiny pinprick of an issue in his mind quickly escalated to a full-on mental red alert. The being was within his zone. His zone. Nirvana went very still, then. His gaze darkened and slipped between one person to the next, lingering on the Champions. Had they not noticed? Had they not cared? The demon clenched his jaw, tensing up. Maybe... Maybe this was all just his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe, nothing that Did Not Belong was in that helicopter. Maybe it had never been there to begin with.

What brought Nirvana's attention from his racing thoughts was a voice he did not recognize- and one he immediately did not like.

"...Is our mystery girl in there?"

Nirvana bit his lip. It was taking all of his restraint to keep from absolutely losing it right then and there. The stench had just grown so overpowering, so suffocating. He felt like he was going to be sick, right in the helicopter. In fact, he was so focused on not spewing his guts that he only just managed to tune back in in time to hear the introduction of the other pilot.

Things just kept getting better and better. Just his luck. However, Nirvana found that the fighting spirit and contempt he should have been feeling the fact that their enemy had just contacted them just was not able to be manifested. It was then, though, that he decided to start steeling himself. He was not going to let himself become so vulnerable just because there was something in his midst that most certainly Did Not Belong, even if the odor was beyond cloying and beyond sickening.

So, he managed to straighten himself up (still leaning ever-so-slightly against a wall for what little support he convinced himself he needed), and shifted a hand to cover the lower half of his face. He dared to attempt to project his voice.

"Get her... OUT OF HERE! FUCK!"

In all honesty, all she wanted to do was laugh. Not out of amusement, of course—I mean, she was completely screwed over at the moment. Nope, this was a bitter I told you so kind of laugh. Part of her was laughing. It was her devilish nature, her fangs, her soul eating persona; it was flaunting its flawless perception with a particular ostentatiousness. This—this—is what happens when you’re considerate. Why don’t you just forget about this whole virtuous angel shit, huh, Natasha? Since when has honor helped anyone? It never helped anyone. It’s just a god-damn word. A fucking sound. Do you really want to screw yourself over because of a sound? Huh?

Oh—wait, you already did. Forget your father, soul-eater. Our kind never stays with family. He deserves whatever he gets, locking you up like he has. You were such an idiot to feel any sort of compassion. You should’ve just taken off. Found some Amazonian tribe to assimilate with. You wouldn’t have to eat them or anything; he’d never find you. Never. You know he wouldn’t. But, now you’re cornered. Cornered. All because you wanted to make sure this misfit band of weirdoes wouldn’t have the ability to kill him. Really, you’re such an idiot. So what if he died? You never liked him anyway.

At this point, she waited for her saintly tuft of feathers to chime in—like they usually did—to present their point of view. Hell, she wanted them to chime in; she wanted them to tell her she wasn’t stupid. That she did the right thing. That this whole thing would be fine.

Silence.

It would seem, for once, her usual pessimistic optimism transformed into regular pessimism. Score one for darkness. Oh, great. Lovely. Just brilliant. Looks like she really is an idiot. Shit. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Sounds like I can’t outfly him. My cover’ll be blown soon. Then he’ll send me to heaven—oh god, heaven. There’s no way I can suffer through that. Unlike SOMEONE, I understand what half-blood means. If only this hadn’t gone wrong so quickly. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Natasha was the picture of irritation. The absolute definition of annoyance. This entire situation was dreadful.

Almost.

There was one thing—one thing—that kept her from losing it. By losing it, I mean literally—losing her life. She always wondered if she’d be able to possess someone after dying, but it was such a huge risk, she never tried it. But, with so much at stake here, she was contemplating it. Killing herself and risking actual death. Or whatever happened when you weren’t a convenient mortal capsule anymore. What was this thing that kept her breathing? Amusement. From what? Nirvana. Well, she didn’t actually know his name—why would she care—but she knew he was a demon. If there was one truth in the world, it was this: demons abhorred angels. And vice-versa. Natasha herself never really gave a damn, all souls tasted the same and angels tended to hate her more than the hellish creatures of the abyss. Rightly so, too. Soul eaters were much worse than demons. They didn’t even stick with each other. They betrayed everyone. Complete assholes, honestly. Still, she was part angel. He obviously sensed that and flipped out. Kind of lost his composure. It was fucking hilarious—nothing was better than suffering and negativity and fear. Nothing besides devouring souls marinated in the stuff.

What are you thinking, Natasha? Shame on you! How dare you give in to THAT side of yourself. You are an angel, an ANGEL. Not a mindless eating machine. Yo—Oh, shut it. This isn’t the damn shark intervention in NEMO. Go pity an orphan somewhere and leave her alone. Both of you: be quiet, will you? I don’t need y’all fussing over my life every ten seconds! Oh, please. You’d be lost without my righteous guidance. Yeah, lost in euphoria. What part of SHUT THE FUCK UP do you NOT understand? There was a moment of silence. Thank yo—Don’t say thank you; that’s not what evil doers d—EXCSUSE ME? S-sorry… Humph.

After that mental quarrel, she tried to come up with a plan. Despite her efforts, she came up with nothing. She was the type to just wing it. Unfortunately, everything she touched usually ended in disaster. Let’s see how this turns out.

Okay—okay. I got this. No problem. I’ve just got to keep these guys quiet, and everything will be fine. Otherwise it’s the car chase from hell—minus the cars. I guess I could escape if I flew high enough. Hid in the clouds… whatever. Anti-plan B. I’ll go with goal A first. It was at that point she emerged from her hiding spot, blending in with the ceiling right around Nirvana. Ironic she was closest to the one person capable of sensing her, eh?

So, here’s this little just-barely three inch long dragon, gliding down from somewhere above everyone, landing on the wall—come now, she wasn’t going to touch the floor; she’d probably get squished—and staring everyone down. She had started reconfiguring her DNA when she heard her dad on the radio. It was at that point she knew the jig was up, and she’d need big ass wings to run. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to, though. In about 20 seconds, she started returning to her normal form. Within a minute, there she was. Sitting cross-legged on the metal floor. Her hair was actually her normal color, for once, being a dark brown to match her eyes. In this situation, it was too bothersome to change it.

Taking a deep breath, she scanned the area for the millionth time. Step one, stop them in their tracks. “Um, no. Let’s not get me out of here,” she said, eyeing Nirvana in protest. Good, good. Now what? Honestly, she didn’t know what else to say to Nirvana. Hm… hm… Um, casual small talk? Wait—what? Where did THAT come from? I haven’t socialized enough to know the first thing about small talk. Oh, just wing it. Break a leg.

She offered a semi-sheepish smile, her long white fangs showing predominantly as she did so. “If it makes you feel better, Nix is about the only person that would actually categorize me as an angel. I’m more the atrocious soul-eater. All evil and stuff. Mostly. Though, I promise I won’t eat you. Really. I haven’t eaten anyone in…well, that’s not too important. I won’t do whatever the hell angels do, either. You know, you have really nice horns. I’m sure you get complimented all the time! Yeah, um… Oh, screw it. I’m so not good at this. Let me start over.”

Clearing her throat nonchalantly, “Yeah, so, um… hi. You know, I can’t help but make an observation, here. “Y’all are throwing around derogatory terms like food and trash, all to your respective…hm…frenemies. But, your souls all look and taste exactly the same. How fucked up is that? It’s like insulting yourselves. Honestly,” her voice seemed to trail off towards the end, obviously sensing she was going about this all wrong. No more pathetic attempts at small talk; it was time for a new approach. “Nevermind all that, I have a more urgent case to present.”

Taking a more pleading disposition, she looked to the person in charge of the aircraft. One thing was quite noticeable about this girl: her eyes seemed to look into a person’s very soul when they settled on it—because, well, that’s exactly what happened. She was literally reading them like books. This was Gabriel, apparently. “You heard him—I’m not one of his people! That’ll be very, very bad for me when he finds out. You have no idea the tight spot I’m in right now. I was just hitch-hiking and some idiot back home blew my cover.” Her gaze darted over to the elf, known as Shae. “C’mon, help me out here. Please. I’ll owe y’all, and trust me—I’m a great person to have indebted. I could help you on your escapade! I could tell you all about Aeron! We’re like, so distantly close. Please? I beg of you. I don’t want to be locked up again! I just escaped, for god’s sake.”

Her eyes looked over the human, who was starting to gain consciousness, but wasn’t there enough to help her any. Completely out of important people to appeal to, she shut up and waited impatiently, fidgeting with her hoodie's zipper. For the first time, she realized she was the only unarmed person there. No weapons, no armor, and the title spy. On top of it all, she already ate someone before joining all these people. Wow—she didn’t think this through, did she? Hopefully they weren't hostile.

...

Gabe just stared at this girl, sitting so cavalierly within a den of lions and dragons, shadows and monsters... and one unconscious human.

When she finished talking, the only sound in the helicopter was the constant drumbeat of the rotors and static from the radio. Looking off to the side, Gabe noticed that Nix's jet had settled a few dozen meters to the left of their position, keeping pace with them.

So if he was going to create leverage, there wasn't much time.

The spy girl looked around at the helicopter's occupants as if she held some sort of power here. As if she were in possession of any cards to play whatsoever.

Gabe frowned in disgust. He immediately recognized her as a soul-eater when she revealed herself—one of what BLOOD calls the Holy affinity. That wasn't why he was annoyed, though. It was her attitude. This child had stepped out of its place, barking at her obvious superiors in such a manner. Looking upon them with such a gluttonous expression—as if she'd happened upon a smorgasbord of souls.

Those of the Holy affinity were even more annoying than those of the Unholy. While Gabe's Phobia is arguably more effective on members of the Unholy affinity, notably Demons, his powers are somewhat less effective against these heavenly beasts. He found that out the hard way one day after challenging the director of MAVD—Holy Lithium.

Instead of acknowledging her, Gabe swiveled on his heel, turning his back to her.

"Slave," he almost snarled, addressing the Colonel. The poor man jumped in surprise at the malice in the Slayer's voice.

"Y-y-es, Slayer sir?"

Gabe forced himself to relax. This girl... referred to Nix on a first-name basis. She claimed to have information on him. Nix was outside their vehicle right now, trying to fetch her... yet she is not "one of his people".

Gabe turned his head over his shoulder slightly, glaring at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

Alera Elma had given no such orders against harming a spy of Nix... and someone needed to put this girl back in her place. Further, she had information on the God of Destruction. Even further, she was not one of his underlings.

She will be made to tell us what she knows.

She was expendable. Gabe kept that in mind as he unhooked his mask, attempting to hand it to the Colonel. It took a moment before the man grasped the gravity of what had just occurred, but when he did, his face immediately went pale. He fell to his knees, completely genuflecting at the Slayer's feet. "Slayer sir! ... have I failed you in some way? Please, sir! Please! I have tri—"

"Silence," Gabe muttered, cutting him off. He shut up immediately. "On your feet." He stood, and Gabe, eyes closed, thrust his mask into the human's hands. "We're in a moving vehicle, Slave. Tactic seven." If possible, the man's face went even paler. "Y-yes, sir..." He turned to the cockpit, holding the mask out to the pilots that resided there. They were all looking at Gabriel with blank expressions on their faces. "Bobby, take the mask. Tactic seven. Dennis, get out of there." The secondary pilot—Dennis—removed himself from the cockpit, sitting in the first empty seat he could find in the helicopter's interior. The Colonel sat back in his seat, buckling up tight, trying his hardest to look as far away from Gabriel's face as possible.

The remaining pilot in control of the helicopter, Bobby, put Gabe's mask on and, with the flick of a switch, closed the large bulkhead metal door that separated the cockpit from the helicopter's interior. The medic got the idea as well, moving away from his human ward to sit in the nearest seat, buckling up. The men at the gunnery stations tensed up but remained ready to fire upon Nix.

Immediately upon removing his mask, Gabe felt... free? Was that it? The mask works to protect the wearer against most low, mid, and even high-level telepathic attacks. It wasn't strong enough to stop his Phobia ability completely—which is why he can do battle with Slayers like Depravity, even if they are wearing a BLOOD mask—but that "protection" was a double edged sword. At least for him.

He did not yet turn around, and was still facing the cockpit door. The BLOOD slaves were looking away from him—the Colonel even covered his eyes with his hands, like a child.

Gabe raised his voice. "Pilot. Keep this Nix busy."

Honestly? Wearing that mask was like being in a prison. It keeps everything out... but, with just as much strength, it keeps his Phobia in. It stifles his abilities, like a damp rag over the eyes works to stifle one's sight; however, without that mask...

Gabe smiled, opening his eyes, staring straight ahead. He could immediately feel his ability bending and flexing in the space around him. It was already leaking—bleeding into the encircling objects, items, people.

Sweet freedom. Gabe couldn't help but sport a small transient grin. It not everyday that he gets to take his mask off.

"Do not look into his eyes! Do not look into his eyes!" The Colonel muttered to himself, rocking back and forth. "Do not look!"

Despite his best efforts, his ability began to spread across the general area. He could feel it touching the minds of those around him, though he wasn't actively trying to use it on them. He had only a singular focus.

Without warning, Gabe turned around, setting his eyes upon this rude spy girl.

She flinched, eyes wide.

He began to walk toward her, eyes narrowed. "You claim not to be affiliated with... Aeron... and yet here he is. Here you are, speaking as if you are in control of this situation." He was rapidly closing the distance between them, moving like a specter across the floor of the chopper. He was within arm's reach of her now, though she had backed up as far as she could—she could retreat no further. "No girl, I don't think you have any idea of the tight spot you're in. Right now."

At that, Gabriel's gloved hand flashed, grabbing the girl by the throat and slamming her against the back of the helicopter. She let out a surprised uuof! Simultaneously, Gabe kicked the butt of his heel against the floor—a knife emerged from under his shoe, as if spring-loaded. With one elegant motion, Gabe expertly punted the knife up to his other hand as if it were a football, not looking away from this spy girl for one second.

As he stared into her eyes, he noticed his mauve irises reflected in her dark brown ones. She was trying to make noise, but Gabe clamped down on her throat. When she tried to bite his hand, he altered the angle he applied pressure to her neck, forcing her chin slightly upwards, as if grasping a dangerous snake by the head.

She made choking noises. If Gabe noticed, he didn't care—he was going to force her into a major fear for a few moments anyway.

"Your insolence in front of your obvious superiors is contemptible. Despicable. Damnable, even," he muttered, still staring her in the eyes. Her pupils seemed to shake sporadically, as if she were attempting to take in and process an infinite amount of data all at once. She was trying to escape his eyes—desperately clawing at Gabriel's arm, but his jacket was much too thick for her to even phase him, let alone do damage.

"You will tell us everything you know, spy beast not affiliated with Aeron—but first, I will show you your place in this world."

If you were paying very close attention, you'd notice a sort of smile touch Gabe's otherwise stoic and detached expression. He flipped his knife in his hand so that the handle was parallel to his thumb, blade facing in the opposite direction. Then he smashed the hilt-end of his knife into the soul-eater's stomach, tossing her to the floor as if she were nothing. The girl hit the deck, coughing wildly.

Gabe turned then, closing his eyes and snapping at the Colonel, a curt command for his mask. It wouldn't do to have his Phobia poisoning anyone else. That'd be in violation of his mission order.

This is what fear feels like.

I cannot even begin to explain the inconceivable turmoil within her. Even if I did try to explain it, I don’t think you would quite understand. Not without knowing her. Not without knowing her past. As the poor girl lay trembling and coughing on the frigid metallic floor, all she could think about was this… this… feeling. Sure, she had been afraid before, but not in years. Not like this.

All she could think about were those nine days. Those nine days she was on her own. The fear she felt. The uncertainty. The helplessness. The people who took advantage of the poor little girl on the streets. The people who still take advantage of her—right behind her father’s back. Then seeing her mother feed for the first time. Devouring Xavier. How terrifying that was. All her fears, normally kept well hidden and out of mind, seemed to mix in a nauseating hurricane in her very core.

It was terrible.

So terrible, in fact, her wings finally found their voice again. Was this what it felt like when she scared people? When she toyed with them and devoured their essence with gruesome deliberateness? Was she… becoming her mother?

The image of Lucy ripping the helpless child limb from limb ran across her vision again and again, juxtaposed with images of her own victims. It was true. She was becoming her mother. It all made sense now—it made sense… It was understandable—why her dad locked her up. Natasha was a terror.

Oh fuck.

That’s what she was afraid of. Becoming like her. That in all her hardships and dealing with everyone using her and containing her—she’d lose it. Completely. That had never happened before, even when she massacred Norwood 2 years prior. There was always some level of restraint. Her biggest fear was losing that. Hence, her angelic nature took hold.

Over to the left somewhere, there was Nix. Now—he was a pretty patient guy. A good guy. In his own humble opinion, as least. But, come on, he had been waiting for a response for a decent amount of time. All he wanted was the girl. That’s all he wanted. It wasn’t that hard to park and make an exchange. Really. He allowed himself an irritated sigh, tapping the control panel, as he watched the chopper. Something was happening in there, and he didn’t like it. His throat cleared as he indented the radio button, contacting the pilot. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll just wait here for however long, in my missile capsule, waiting for a response. Not like I have anything better to do or anything.”

Back in Natasha’s side of the story, her coughing ceased. It was replaced by hyperventilation. Even so, she somehow managed to haul her trembling form into an upward position, using the wall as leverage. Her wings were begging for animation, to open the door and run swiftly to freedom. Leave these god-forsaken souls and go back home. Where she could tremble and cry and give into her fears like the innocently naive shut-in she was.

But, that was only half the story. Her fangs—though aware of her weariness towards them—would not cede so helplessly. Absolutely not. You see, as a soul eater, she prayed on fear. Whether she liked it or not—that was a part of who she was. And, in an effort to reclaim the dominate portion of her consciousness, it did the inconceivable. It fed on her own fear.

This was something that had never happened to her. It was a feeling she never experienced. Confliction like no other. Still, she was afraid—Gabe’s ability had done its work—but some of her fear was changing. Transforming…

…into untamed fury.

He hurt her. The little fucker HURT HER. How dare that little piece of haughty shit lay a fucking hand on her. He hurt you, Natasha. Just like the others. Just like the other bastards. You were just being yourself—and he attacked you. He treats you like some worthless non-being. Like you don’t matter. Speaking as if you have control of the situation? Making assumptions? Calling you insolent? Claiming to be your OBVIOUS superior? Expecting you to tell HIM everything you know? Showing you your place in the world? Are you going to take that submissively? Are you really THAT person?

No. No, Natasha. Don’t be stupid. If you give in to such an insole—You dare side with him, you pompous self-righteous fool? After he HURT her? Well, no, I—Enough! You’ve said plenty. You just want her to allow herself to be hurt. You’re just like the others. Like the so called “angelic beings” the supposedly “better race” who’ve tormented her since she was six! You’re no different! Listen to ME, Natasha. I’m the blood that really cares about you. That isn’t true! I’m looking out for you—he isn’t the kind of person you can reason with using threats and attitu—who said anything about that? HUH? Why don’t you give us a chance? Or are you just like Nix, never giving her a chance?

Oh, he gave her a chance. And YOU convinced her to eat an entire town! They DESERVED that—they hurt her! They tried to kill her! How could she NOT fight back? You want her to turn the other cheek, but following YOUR advice—she won’t have anything left to turn. Sure, it’s hard to do the right thing. But that’s what the better people do. What the SKILLED people do. Natasha, listen to me. Let it go. Submit. Play it safe and take off when they drop their guard—go home. NO—put this bigot in his place, make sure he never harms you again. It’s self-preservation, Natasha. There’s never been anything wrong with that.

Swallowing hard, she attempted to gain some resemblance of elegant composure. Her very soul was trembling in a mixture of lingering fear and rampaging rage—which was very difficult to control, by the way. This girl had trouble controlling herself in normal situations—imagine now that she’s upset. It took every ounce of her willpower not to go up and smack his unmasked face.

But, she was not stupid. Most of her agreed with her fangs—how could she not agree with them? The soul eater was right. He hurt her, and she couldn’t let that go. It was clear she was nothing in his eyes; thus, he would hurt her again without hesitation. Yet, at the same time, angering him would do no good. The angel was right, too, though it wasn’t good at presenting its point. What the hell was she to do, then?

Alright, um... a compromise. Please, angelic part of me, god, council, light—please help me keep calm. Darkness, soul eater, aggressiveness—please help me get my point across. Here goes… I-I… I’m going to do it… Right now…. Any t-time now…

Hands shaking in an effort at self-control—and a little fear—she stood at her full height. In a subconscious gesture, her ashen wings folded out from behind, tearing through her grey hoodie. They remained folded in an unprepared fashion, serving no purpose besides comfort as she stayed pressed up against the wall. She drew a slightly shaky breath—still feeling the effects from her prior deprivation of oxygen. Or maybe it was her mixture of timorous fear and profound wrath that made her lightheaded. She’ll never know.

In a bold gesture, her hands came together in a light, sarcastic clap. The effect was somewhat lessened by a shining glaze over her brown irises, but it was still a bold move. “Oh…hurrah, hurrah. You’ve managed to harm an unarmed, non-hostile, teenage girl who hasn’t even left her god-damn prison of a house in over a decade. Well, except once, but she was watched the whole time. Really, I’m impressed.” There was an unmistakably cautious edge to her subdued voice, but the sarcasm was quite apparent. Her voice went through little tremors and bouts of smoothness as the factions fought for control. “I’m sorry if I offended you, somehow—with my normal personality—but that was uncalled for.” At that, a few tears escaped her sweet, auburn eyes, gliding down to the floor below. Still, she continued on, uncaring.

“I mean, I never said I wasn’t affiliated with Aeron. I never said that. I only said I wasn’t one of his people, meaning one of his agents. I told you I was running away and someone back at base blew my cover—the only way I could get his secretary to lower security was let him know where I was. I’m too important to everyone for them to just let me go! It was the only way I could escape! And, with all due respect, I would also say, though you obviously have other beliefs, I do hold some control here. After all, I have a fighter jet right over there willing to shoot this contraption out of the sky, telepathic abilities to let him know what the fuck you just did to me, and I appear to be the only winged creature capable of escaping more or less unscathed.

I also don’t know how familiar you are with my kind, but I’m a soul eater. Meaning, I could sever your very being and leave you a limp heap on the ground. Especially if I lose control—which I’m trying very hard not to do right now. You know how baby rattlesnakes are more dangerous, because they don’t know when to stop releasing venom? I’m exactly like that—a nutcase barely capable of not killing the few people I meet. Somebody who never learned control.

And, from my understanding, you are not my superior. I have absolutely no affiliation with BLOOD, nor any slayer in it. I know you’re powerful—I know you know more than me. You know how to fight, how to use your powers. Maybe you are better than me. But it’s a mental choice to follow someone; you choose to be their subordinate. You can control these humans all you want—maybe even the other three champions, maybe they’ll follow you—but I’m not your domesticated servant. Nor am I that to anyone. That’s all I have—mental freedom. As such, I’m not telling you a damned thing about anything—not unless I choose to. I was going to, but then you hurt me. I’ve been hurt by to many haughty bastards to submit anymore… I’ll die before I talk. I know you’d kill me—I know you would—but that’s okay. I’ll go to hell with my mama. I won’t get hurt by people like you. Like everyone. I’ll be dead. And then one day you’ll be, and we’ll be in the same damned place.” Wiping her tears away, she pretty much broke down into her sensitive angelic side. “I…I want my dad. Let me go. Please, I wanna go home with my dad. You’re like the archangels up in heaven. I don’t like you; I want to go with my dad.”

Sinking down to the floor, amidst a heap of black feathers, she sniffled quietly to herself. It was a long battle—a very long battle—but, somehow, her feathers won out and she was the emotional girl who didn’t know a damned thing about the world and its cruelties.

On the other side of the aircraft, there was a now-conscious Skylar, sitting up and watching the scene with a what the fuck look slapped on her face. Not only did she find herself in a flying contraption—horror of horrors—having just woke up from actually learning something about herself, she opened her eyes to this strange girl defiantly…sobbing, at Gabriel. Who, she knew barely anything about, by the way. She looked around to everyone, and I mean everyone, trying to deduce what the hell she missed in her throbbing haze. Naturally, she had no clue. It wasn’t exactly clear to some couch-potato just tuning in. All she knew was the dense fear lingering like a fog and the sobbing girl in the corner and everyone else and her own dislike of flying…

Shae was sitting perfectly still on the floor of the helicopter. She leaned back against a wall, with her back pressed firmly against it. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and her arms were wrapped around them. Eyes closed, she had tilted her head back so that the light of the sun beamed through the window on the opposite wall to warm her face. Inhaling slowly, as though she might actually breathe in the delicate motes of luminescence, she then held that breath for several long seconds, and opened her ice blue eyes. Her pupils dilated as she found herself staring straight into the sun, and she exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar tugging in her chest that told her the connection had been made. Invisible, except to the most perceptive of gazes, a tiny thread of translucent gossamer thread seemed to connect Shae's gaze to the Sun which burned brightly in the window. That affinity built so that the light was all that Shae saw, and then she blinked, and the bond was broken, but the Sun's Aegis burned beneath her skin.

This process had taken several minutes. Yes, it was possible for the whole thing to be completed within the time limit of a couple of heartbeats, but this link she had made now was much stronger, and easier to manipulate. Stirring slightly, and looking around, Shae realized that something was badly wrong. Something had changed.

She had been spoken to by a young girl, with fear prominent in her eyes. "C’mon, help me out here. Please. I’ll owe y’all, and trust me—I’m a great person to have indebted. I could help you on your escapade! I could tell you all about Aeron! We’re like, so distantly close. Please? I beg of you. I don’t want to be locked up again! I just escaped, for god’s sake.” Standing, Shae went to reply to the girl in a soft, indifferent tone, but just as she parted her lips to speak, she was stopped by the abrupt reaction of Gabriel.

With Aegis burning her skin a soft golden color, Shae turned her gaze on the male Slayer, with a risen brow. The fury that resonated from the Champion was palpable in the thick air, and the Elf Champion frowned as she then watched with an expression that was seemingly disinterested. Moments of silence passed, painfully devoid of action, and then Gabriel made a move. With agonizingly slow movements, he removed the mask that had covered his gaze, and a distinct shiver ran down the spines of each human slave aboard this ridiculous excuse for transportation, and even Shae was aware of the Phobia that drifted like toxic smoke across the space. She barely noticed the terror that the Colonel stank of. His fear sweat dripped down his face, soiling the arms and back of his shirt and with disgust Shae turned to look at the offending girl.

Immediately, Shae felt the instinctual feeling of wrong. She hadn't noticed the teenager before, and she mentally berated herself for the lax mental state she had been in, but now she knew that the female creature she looked upon definitely wasn't right. A hybrid of two creatures that should never have been mixed, though until the Angel wings freed themselves, Shae knew not what blood ran through her veins. But she stank of her own type of fear. Fear of being caught and caged. This was something Shae was familiar with, and she drew away from the pitiful girl as she realised.

By now, Gabriel was speaking to the teenager, Natasha. His voice was low, threatening, and dangerous, and Shae instantly became aware of the Phobia that had the others around them all but cowering in their respective seats. Protected as she was by her Aegis power, Shae was aware only of the soft brush of the tension against her skin as she watched the teenager cower beneath Gabriel's fist. It was only as she stepped forwards at this moment that she glanced to see Nirvana and Skylar, who was only just stirring.

"You will tell us everything you know, spy beast not affiliated with Aeron—but first, I will show you your place in this world." spoke Gabriel, moments before throwing the trembling body away from himself with the thud of a dead weight, and a small smile. He had enjoyed that, she knew.

Shae reserved judgement as the Slayer stepped back and donned his mask once more. And then there was another silence, and Shae's hand moved to the handle of her blade. It responded immediately, and flames licked for a second down the blue steel before receding back into the metal. She knew it would return if she needed to take steps to intervene between the Slayer and Natasha. She wasn't entirely sure on her situation, except for the fact that every moment caused her an internal dilemma.

And then she clapped, the slow sarcastic clap of one who knew that she was in danger but refused through sheer pride to show that. As Natasha spoke, Shae smirked. This child truly didn't know what she spoke of, and Shae listened to her short speech with amusement. She was so sure, so confident that she could do no wrong. When Shae knew she doubted herself. She regurgitated words that she had heard before, without true understanding of their meaning, and it was only when the child started to bawl that she saw fit to step forwards. Shae looked to Gabriel, knowing that he would likely take the tears as weakness, and abuse the teenager until he got the answers he desired. But now Shae claimed the opportunity to give taming Natasha a go.

A single step forwards. Her blade sang with flames, hanging threateningly at her hip, and the Elf Champion was suddenly very there. Shae let her cold gaze fall on Gabriel, and demonstrated for the first time her power over his Will. With the sweetest sigh of breath, Shae exerted her power, on one of the most basic levels. It was just strong enough, aimed towards those who would approach the Elf or the Hybrid Teenager, to take away the memory of their chosen action. They would attempt to move forwards, and like passing through a doorway, quite simply forget their intentions. The anger or frustration might remain, but the intentions would slip away like a fish escaping into deeper waters.

Then Shae approached the girl, whose wings were slumped in defeat behind her, and forced herself to soften her expression. She knelt and for several moments just looked at the teenager until she met her gaze, and it took that much time for her to understand. It was pathetic. She was weak. But she didn't let that show on her face as she spoke so that only Natasha could hear.

"Stand...Sit here, with me" She murmured, and exerted her power very gently once more so that she would almost lose the thought of hurting those around her. "Talk to me, Angel, and none here may hurt you" Her voice was rich and soft and persuasive, ignoring the pressure that Nix gave to her.

Shae then offered her something that she knew Natasha would find it difficult to refuse. "Trust me, and none here may hurt you. And you will earn your freedom" Shae didn't know if she lied or not. She just knew that these were the right words to speak.

Naturally, the voices in her head kept bickering as she sobbed. Debating whether she should’ve taken the approach she did, acting so conflicted and pathetically weak. Perhaps she should’ve just used force? It was too late to do anything different now, but they argued and argued in the back of her mind until finally shutting up when Shae came to her. Slowly looking up, still timorous in nature, she met the Elf’s gaze.

The woman proceeded to utter words she herself didn’t even believe. Not fully. This made the soul-eater change her tune. It was astonishing, really, how quickly the girl’s demeanor changed. Tears immediately cut off, breathing regulated, eyes strengthened. Despair transformed into complete indifference—even her appearance changed from her natural brown coloring to a casual green. Blackened wings retreated to their prior form of ink, leaving only traces of the design visible through tattered rips in her coat.

Swallowing the last residue of emotion, she stared intently into the older girl’s eyes. It seemed as though there was nothing in her—like she was a crazed sociopath devoid of any humanity. It seemed like she was the type who’d kill a man and think nothing of it. That’s exactly what she was—at that moment in time. Even the two voices—though the most prominent of many—silenced in this state. The soul eater didn’t have to coach herself to be cold, and the angel knew she was untouchable in this state. The others only smiled as she did as she was supposed to.

Or so they thought.

It was a treacherous path this girl had taken, a journey in which everyone wanted her trust and achieved it through force. She did as she was told, having no other choice, as the voices watched over her and even took complete control when necessary. Yes, she always did what they wanted. Even now, she did what they wanted. Acted how they told her to. But somewhere, deep within the insane mess of her mind, there was residue of the real Natasha. And she was working on double crossing them all—she was working on freedom. On saving herself—on self-preservation. But it would be a long battle. She wasn’t yet strong enough to break her curse. Nor would she ever be—unless she played them all without them knowing. Unless she practiced with small victories. Unnoticeable, easily forgotten triumphs. Unless she gained the help of the very people her body was set to destroy.

The voices told her to accept the Elf’s uneasy promise, so that she could stay with them all. Well—Natasha didn’t want to stay with them. She honestly didn’t like Gabriel, not at all, but more than that—she didn’t want to hurt these people. It would hurt her when the voices forced her into an episode and she harmed them. It would shame her to lead them astray from their mission. Honestly—she had her reasons for wishing them luck. Too bad her body adopted malice. Manipulation. Deceit.

One day, she’d break her curse. It was the empty dream that kept her going. She’d either break her curse or finally kill herself. Either way, she’d no longer be the uncontrollable monster she was. She’d no longer be trapped in the room. Her body would no longer belong to other minds. The corner of her mouth rose in an exhausted smile, and her voice mirrored Shae’s quiet tone. The only difference, it was flat--now belonging to someone else. “It’s pretty useless to hide from me; I’m no angel, I’m a soul reader. I know what you feel about me and I know when you’re only saying words to say them. Thanks for the effort, but you might as well be real. I don’t want pity, either. Just ‘cause they tell me I’m mentally unstable doesn’t mean I’m not intelligent. Oh, don’t call me Angel. I’m Natasha.”

In someplace, far away, there was a girl. Aware of everything happening in the metallic contraption. It was appalling, how they mocked her dream of freedom. How they enacted this whole emotional display when she really was trapped. When she really hadn’t been outside since that day in the car crash. Since those nine days. How they mocked her with her own claims, adding she was insane. They were insane, perhaps, but the real girl wasn’t. They did it to infuriate her, out of some passive aggressive symbolism, but the girl made no movements. She remained silent in the small dark vile she was trapped in, wrapped around the neck of her enemy. The small soul trapped in the pendant had given up on emotion long ago, except for the one hopeless dream of freedom. The wearer of the girl only smirked, for he knew he was getting to her—despite her little dreams and indifference. And poor ‘ol Nix didn’t know a thing.

Upon the actual appearance of the creature, if Nirvana hadn't felt sick before, he certainly did then. It looked a lot different from how he had imagined; less of a vassal of Christ, and more of a rebellious teenage girl. This was... perplexing. Perplexing and sickening. Was this some kind of joke? Again with the jokes? First there was the atrocious Slayer she-heathen and the pathetic human lass who had hardly looked strong enough to stand, and there he was, yet again being forced to deal with children. And, lucky him, in this case, this child was wanted by their common enemy, yet there she was, on their FUCKING HELICOPTER, IN ALL OF HER FUCKING ADOLESCENT ANGEL-CREATURE GLORY-

He stifled his rampage from becoming verbal with a bite to his tongue as he regarded the despicable creature. To anyone else, she certainly wouldn't have seen like any sort of threat. She looked like she wasn't even technically an adult yet. But to Nirvana, she was something that shouldn't even have been alive, should never have existed in the first place. That was natural, and applied to basically all demons. Their abhorrence of those of the heavenly persuasion could be very accurately compared to an extremely severe allergic reaction. They had to be desensitized to these kinds of things, or else they would be repelled by their presence. Tolerance to the holy was not easy to attain, not in the least bit. Nirvana silently cursed himself for not heeding the advice given to him all that time ago. Damnation! He should have started building tolerance ages ago! Well, he'd just never thought he'd come across anything holy anytime soon, so he'd just assumed that things like that could wait. Never had he felt more stupid than he did once he realized that his discomfort could have been avoided.

FUCK THIS SHIT!

Now, obviously, he wasn't in the best of states to begin with, but when that creature started talking to him, to him! He wasn't entirely listening to much of what she was saying, for all of the shock he was in. Trying to keep from throwing up everywhere was taking quite the toll on him. But when she commented on his horns, the relatively blank-ish expression he'd managed to keep thus far instantly contorted into one that might have been taken for a look of pain. It was almost a wince, a wince tainted with nausea. He wanted her gone, away from him, somewhere where he wouldn't have to sense her, smell her, see her, hear her, or anything. He'd never felt more uncomfortable in all of his years.

She spoke some more, and really, he'd tuned out again. Something about Nix. Something about not getting rid of her, which conflicted with just about everything he wanted to do at the moment. In his Mind's Eye, he saw her dead, a motionless corpse lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding still from wounds unsealed. The false vision made him scowl in irritation. The one thing that bothered him most about what he saw in his mind was that it almost never happened, unless he was in a combat situation. No combat? No promises. That had always been the catch.

Apparently, he'd gotten a bit too caught up in his little bit of thoughtfulness, because, next thing he knew, the Slayer had up and attacked the angel-creature (he'd barely registered the lack of the mask there). Nirvana's initial, instinctual reaction was to take the opportunity and somehow push her out of the helicopter, and away from him. But that was ridiculous, he reasoned. Just ridiculous. As much as he wanted to, it just wasn't happening. And, by what the Slayer had gone and said, plans for ridding themselves of the angel-creature were nowhere in the immediate future. Boy, did that piss him off. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Who the fuck cared if she knew things about Nix? They knew things about him too! For example, the fact that he needed to be killed. Painfully. It was something! It counted, dammit!

Again, it seemed as if he'd spaced out a bit too long, because, again, another flash-forward: The angel-creature said something more, something else he wasn't paying attention to (hearing her voice was starting to make him sick again- damn he wanted this to stop), and then, the elf acted.

When the elf woman offered hospitality unto the angel creature, Nirvana's jaw dropped in disbelief. WAS THIS LADY OUT OF HER FUCKING MIND? WHAT REASON HAD THEY TO KEEP THIS CREATURE ANYWAY? SHE WAS JUST A BURDEN! A FUCKING BURDEN!

He watched, eyes narrowed, as the angel-creature complied to the elf's request. Fuck. Everything was just out to get him that day. Fuck. He just couldn't catch a break. And so, slowly, all of his rampaging thoughts began to work their way to a certain part of his brain, the part that made him speak. If there were ever a time where self-control was necessary, it was then. Nirvana had no filter, and he was sure as hell going to show it, even though he probably hadn't really meant to.

He gestured to the elf emphatically. "YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND, aren't YOU?" he exclaimed. Nirvana carded a hand through his sable hair, for no real reason other than to make sure that he was still there, still physically there. "WHAT THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THAT FUCKUP, NIX, NOW?" Exasperated, he threw his hands up in the air. "FINE THEN. FUCKING FINE. LET'S KEEP THIS THING WITH US. LET'S FUCKING KEEP IT. AND WHEN OUR ENEMY DECIDES TO THROW A FIT BECAUSE WE DIDN'T COMPLY, WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO? WE'RE NOT FUCKING READY, DO YOU REALIZE THAT? WE HAVE NO FUCKING STRATEGIES OR ANYTHING! WE COULD DITCH HER NOW AND SAVE US SOME TROUBLE, BUT NO. FUCKING NO." Another exasperated arm-toss before he slid down the wall, deciding to sit on the floor now, cross-legged. "Fuck it. AGAIN, FUCK it. Fuck this. Fuck you all. Let's just DEAL WITH this liability from now on, then. GREAT. FUCKING. IDEA." He heaved a sigh before looking down at his hands. Ranting was tiring, he discovered.

"I’ll die before I talk. I know you’d kill me—I know you would—but that’s okay."

Gabriel looked upon those in front of him with a somewhat bemused expression, a hint of mirth upon his face. Die before talking, huh? He slowly folded his legs, leaning back, ensuring his mask was secure. While he respected her moxy, this girl had no idea what she was blathering on about. Many of BLOOD's human slaves held similar supposed iron-clad wills when they were first abducted.

That's the sad fact about beings that are capable of experiencing pain. All of them—all of them—without exception, will break when the proper leverage is applied. All that is required is time, resources, and perhaps a... creative imagination.

And that was the goal. Leverage.

The soul-eater girl was interesting. Gabriel had come up against soul-eaters before, and, while tough to deal with in close combat, the main threat they posed was their ability to drain you—eat your soul. Gabe closed his eyes, remembering past conflicts.

There was only one soul-eater that had ever gotten close to draining him, and, on that day, that soul-eater almost destroyed himself. "Something is wrong with your soul, pup." He recalled the soul-eater snarling at him. His eyes and ears were bleeding some sort of viscous black liquid. "It's corrupted. Diseased. Dark and tainted. Unholy." The soul-eater sputtered, expectorating more of the blackened phlegm-like liquid. He pointed an enormous blade at Gabe, fangs out, his massive white wings unfurling to their full height and glory, bathing the room in an intense white light... that began to die down. It got dimmer and dimmer until Gabe realized that one of the soul-eater's wings was... decaying? It was as if black paint had been splashed onto the thing, spreading like a sentient being, causing the mighty appendage to curl in on itself like a rotting fruit.

The Slayer smiled to himself, enjoying the memory. To this day, that particular soul-eater hasn't attempted to drain him again. Hasn't dared. Further, when compared to the holy soul-eater that almost stomped him out, Gabe thought of this girl as but a babe, lost in the woods of true power.

Refocusing on the issue at hand, Gabe adjusted his glare, taking in the entirety of the situation he'd created. All as actors, playing their parts. Specifically, the soul-eater girl wasn't as devoid of self-control as he had initially assumed. If she'd jumped onto his exposed back and tried to drain him, she probably would have destroyed herself. The fact that she didn't at least try, well, that was interesting.

Perhaps he'd underestimated her sense of control, as he did with the human? Heh, wouldn't that be something. The human CIA agent, Skylar, who took on Depravity. Gabe would never forget that. An elf whose attack so easily harmed Depravity. Gabe turned to look at the Elf in question, whom was busy soothing the soul-eater girl. She was also interesting. A demon champion who has yet to display his abilities, a mad god bent on global annihilation, and now a soul-eater spy girl with connections.

Powerful players are being drawn into this conflict. Gabe nodded to himself, making a mental note. How far up does this go? Who is really pulling the strings here? Gabe looked back at his human slaves, thoughts returning to purpose. Something to be reported later, but for now...

"You said your name was Natasha, soul-eater?"

For the first time, Gabe considered her age. He'd been thinking of her as "girl" in reference to her presumed position beneath him in the pecking order, but perhaps they were of similar age? A quick smile flickered across Gabe's face at the irony of it all, although his mask made the transient expression unnoticeable. Eh, I don't quite remember how old I am anyway.

"Well, Natasha, you said you wouldn't tell us anything... and yet you've given us all the ammunition we need. For that I, personally, thank you."

The colonel handed Gabe the helicopter's communications headset.

"Natasha Nixon, daughter of Aeron Nixon." Gabe pressed a button on the headset and everyone went silent.

Gabe sighed, clearing his throat. He really didn't like speaking, especially at length, but the mission demands it. "Aeron Nixon," he began, bringing the headset's mic closer to his mask, "God of Destruction. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Gabriel Morgan DeKnight, Kin Killer and Champion Slayer of BLOOD. Sorry to have wasted so much of your time here, we just had a slight..." Gabe eyed Natasha. "...hierarchical issue with the pecking order." He cleared his throat again. "So, you say you're looking for some sort of spy girl?" Gabe paused for dramatic effect, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Interesting. Let me check."

He took his finger off the headset, still staring at Natasha, returning the helicopter's interior to the ambiance of radio static. Nix had yet to respond.

"Nirvana has a point, this is extremely foolish. If that fighter jet over there is, as you say, willing to shoot this contraption out of the sky, that would result in your death as well—I'd make sure of it. Further, your so-called telepathic abilities apparently haven't been invoked, have they? I wonder why that is. Why aren't you crying to daddy right now? Telling him to blow us up?" Gabe raised his chin, clearing his throat yet again. "It's because you don't truly want to go home with daddy," he said, mocking her earlier tone, "yet you don't seem to want to stay here. So I offer you this, holy beast, spy, and daughter of Aeron: share with us what you know, of your own volition, and it'll be as the Elf says, you'll be free to do whatever you want—though I can't speak for the demon or that human whom challenged Depravity over there," Gabe finished, pointing at Skylar.

Gabe was sincere. He did not really care for the soul-eater one way or the other. Her going free wouldn't likely be a detriment to their cause. To be honest, they weren't ready for a fight with Nix—they'd just met just a few hours ago. They were too uncoordinated as a team. They didn't know each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they'd definitely have to work in an efficient and synergistic manner to defeat Nix, so fighting the God of Destruction right now was just not an option.

Instead, they needed absolute ascendancy. Leverage. Again, the goal has always been leverage.

Either leverage against Nix or leverage against Natasha. It was funny, because they could be used as bargaining chips against each other. Nix was the leverage against Natasha. Natasha was, hopefully, the leverage against Nix. If she did not agree to Gabe's terms, then it would be Nix who would have to make the hard choice next: take his jet and disappear, or lose his daughter forever. A viable plan B.

"Choose wisely," Gabe muttered. "We don't want to keep daddy waiting."

Remaining silent in her corner of the helicopter, Skylar thought of the many things troubling her mind. So much had flooded in at once… it seemed almost impossible to sort through it all. It was ridiculous. Simply preposterous. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there were her teammates and the soul eater to contend with. Nirvana was quite upset now, showing extreme discomfort and eventually breaking into this huge rant. It was a little embarrassing to admit, but she found it pretty amusing.

Moving on to the ever-composed elfish champion, she became even more amused. It seemed the women of the group remained relatively composed and laid back, while the men went through little bursts of insanity. How… charming? Man, what a team. It wasn’t that she minded, she’d been around all kinds of psychos in her life, but it was just… it was just so damn amusing. She wasn’t used to being so amused when she really shouldn’t be. Shae had stepped forward to comfort the crying angel, who completely changed her character, and Gabriel started off on some sort of speech. Good god—life in this team was eventful, wasn’t it?

Throughout everything, she remained static and hushed, watching the play in an almost detached manner. It hit her early on: the girl seemed familiar. Honestly, Skylar knew it was somewhere in her memories—she knew this girl. The memories wouldn’t reveal themselves, however, wishing to remain obscure and just out of reach. Until, that is, she heard the name. Natasha Nixon. Natasha. Nixon. Oh my god. Aeron’s daughter. Natasha. It was so painfully obvious now; she wondered how she could’ve ever forgotten. How could she have forgotten? How was it possible to forget the little caged bird? The again, how was it possible to forget your own identity? So many questions, no clear answers.

Gabe pointed to her, after making a proposition to Natasha, and the two girls made eye contact. Natasha, who hadn’t really looked at the previously unconscious human, was shocked. Skylar? The voices started an uproar. Some were glad, as Natasha was. Others were infuriated. Others still were terrified. Nonetheless, all that showed outwardly was a quick glimpse of surprise. She should’ve known. There were very few humans in this world that would take on a slayer… she should’ve at least suspected it might be Skylar. Did she remember her? A small, almost unnoticeable smirk suggested that was the case, but that was all they exchanged.

It probably wouldn’t be good for Skylar if they realized she knew Nix’s daughter. Or Nix, for that matter. There was way too much history that needed to be ignored. Still, it was a great comfort to have her there. If only to freak out the man inside her head. If only to convince him that his meticulous planning had failed. If only to give her some small hope at escape.

To the left, there was the original Nixon. He was glad to finally receive some form of acknowledgement, but he didn’t quite like the acknowledgement he received. The kid over the radio, the slayer—Gabriel, had the tone of someone who knew a lot more than they let on. Whoever was in the chopper, he knew they were there. Hell, he was probably looking right at her. And, hierarchical issue? Damn, that sounded suspicious. Still, he took a deep breath and continued to tell himself not to indulge in fireworks. Not today. Not today. No, not today. After a moment, “Oh, sure thing, you just check. Let me know, Kin Killer.” The sarcasm was really unintended, but it was all he could do not to press the button. Not today…

Looking away from Skylar and back to Gabriel, Natasha’s demeanor changed again. She bore an almost fatigued countenance… perhaps even a look of boredom. Hair and eyes darkening to an inky black, but quickly changing back to brown, she bit her lip slightly. It would be a long time before she let THAT voice take over. That was a force worth resisting. It kind of bothered her that he was trying to take over so quickly. That he would try to attack them at this moment…not even waiting for them to sleep or something. Oh, well. It is what it is, right? Burying her inner anxiety with a satisfied smile, she laughed lightly.

“…How astute of you, DeKnight. For a second, I thought you didn’t know who I was.” She took a moment to shrug, not seeming to consider his offer at all. “You’re right. Saw through me perfectly, didn’t you? Or did you? I’ve been trying to get out for years. I know I can’t do it without help; he’s got too many people. I planned this whole thing out. It worked out more or less how I strategized. Though, I could’ve done without the suffocation. But, quick tip, if you ever REALLY want to harm me, you should know that angels don’t require oxygen. Comes in handy when you’ve got to save some kid drowning or go in a burning building. But you probably knew that, right? Anyway, I accept your offer.” She offered him a quick wink.

Shaking her head slightly, still a little awestruck at this chain of events, Skylar interjected softly. Rising to her feet with a slight wince, she walked over to Nirvana, crouching down in front of him and placing her hand lightly on his. It was more an unconscious gesture than anything; she was so used to helping people of all species… doing little things like that had become habit. If she had been thinking about it, she probably wouldn’t have touched someone who thought so lowly of humans. But, in situations like this, she was so used to having authority over everyone… of being able to help or confront them as she felt necessary. Even if she didn’t remember it until just recently. It made sense, though. It made perfect sense. That was why she had no problem dealing with Depravity. That’s why she felt no fear towards anyone here. She was used to being in command over those more powerful than her.

Looking up into his eyes, “Well, if Nixon’s staying here, something will need to be done to curb your…” she paused, searching for an appropriate word, “…discomfort. You clearly haven’t undergone tolerance training… a little odd for a demon, but I can help you. You’d just need to trust I know what I’m talking about, no matter how crazy it sounds to you. No matter how unconventional. No matter how much it sounds like complete bullshit. I’ve had the pleasure of training quite a few of your kind over the years. I do a better job than the demon teachers themselves. I can have you feeling better before this thing lands.” Smiling reassuringly, “What do you say?”

Gabriel let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Plan B would have been seriously annoying. "Wise choice," he muttered, thoughts already on to more pressing issues. By now their aircraft was only moments from their destination, the secondary meeting facility. They had only one last problem to deal with: the guy in the fighter jet.

"Colonel, how long would it take to query the FAA and friends on Nix's credentials? The fact that he's not being chased by F-15s for flying over domestic airspace seems pretty odd."

The Colonel, who had remained silent as a mute and still as a statue in his seat until spoken to, snapped to attention as if awoken from some sort of daydream. "Yes, Slayer sir. Upon initial communication with the unidentified aircraft, Dennis immediately alerted LSAD to this transgression." The man bowed his head slightly. At the mention of his name, the co-pilot, Dennis, blinked a few times. The colonel continued. "Unfortunately, this Nix guy has gone through all the proper channels and has all the necessary authorizations to fly that thing anywhere he wants. He even has a SFA issued directly from the administrator of the FAA himself."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. So that's why Nix is allowed to fly that war machine over human airspace. And a Special Flight Authorization? He sighed. Of course our enemy would have just as many connections as we do. Gabe pressed the button on the communication headset. There's no way the human government would stay silent over an aerial conflict, SFA or no SFA. He considered handing the headset to the human, Skylar, eyeing her and Nirvana with muted interest. She's CIA and he was tired of talking. He hadn't used his voice this often in... well, ever. Still, it was he who had initiated this little rapport, so he might as well be the one to end it.

Gabe cleared his throat again, taking a breath. "God of Destruction," he began anew. "That's a negative on that spy girl of yours, sorry about that." His words were devoid of emotion—he didn't sound sorry at all. "If we do happen to sense a spy, we'll be sure to, uh, send it back." He was tempted to add "in pieces," but thought better of it. He cleared his throat once more. "Now, I'm sure this human government wouldn't appreciate a fireworks show over their domestic airspace. A PR nightmare, as I'm sure you understand. Seeing as how you have a million better things to be doing with your time right now, how about we play aeolian tag some other time?"

At that, Gabe tossed the headset back to the Colonel, whom caught it with all the grace and dexterity of a beached dolphin. His throat was dry and he was done talking. If Nix wanted to banter further, one of the others would have to play ball. Then again, perhaps passive-aggressive sarcasm wasn't the wisest note to end on when speaking with a guy in a fighter jet. Gabe shrugged. Oh well, what's done is done.

After his small fragment of an explosion, Nirvana went very, very silent, and very, very still. It was times like this where he didn't really want to do anything. Not out of sloth, but just because he felt the need to just... be. Paying attention to his surroundings beyond what was absolutely necessary was optional. Sometimes, spacing out was needed. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he zoned out; it just sort of happened on its own. But for Nirvana, sometimes rendering himself inattentive wasn't always the safest thing, as far as his consciousness was concerned. When one possessed an imagination and subconscious as rampant and warped as the demon champion's, losing focus was rarely an advisable course of action. It gave the dark underbelly of the mind autonomy, freedom to do almost whatever the hell it desired. As one could imagine, this has the possibility of creating... undesirable circumstances and seemingly inexplicably wild reactions from the mind affected. And Nirvana certainly was not the most mentally sound creature one might encounter.

As he did so, he unconsciously pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his skinny arms around them. This probably would have seemed like an odd position to see him in; it was more the posture of a standoffish young child, and sort of seemed a tad awkward, what with him being so tall and all. But he remained that way nonetheless, as most of the others present spoke about... something (including that angel-creature, who still hadn't been killed yet, much to Nirvana's dismay- he was still very angry that the elf had deigned to offer her sanctuary, damn her). He caught small snippets between alternating depths of zoning, such as the revelation of the angel-creature's name (which he really... hadn't caught... Of course, that wasn't something he really wanted to know; they were below the honor of recognition by name, to him). There was also, apparently, some sort of familial connection between this despicable creature and the supposed god that they were to eventually fight. At this, his eye twitched slightly, without his knowing. What a development, he idly supposed. Did it matter? If Nix knew who this female was, probably. Probably.

Nirvana surfaced from the mental depths for a mere moment to compare. How ridiculous. Where he came from, there was no way a child could be used as any sort of leverage against the parent, or any other relative, for that matter. The notion was preposterous. Everyone knew that blood ties often lead to nothing but suffering in the first place, so why anyone would bother to go so far as to become attached to one's offspring was beyond his comprehension. But, regardless, the news that they were in possession of Nix's filthy spawn was... noteworthy, to say the least. But, this also confused him a bit. Did that mean that Nix was part angel? Or part... whatever it was that the creature had said she was? It almost made his head hurt to think about it. It bothered him. As such, he quickly and quietly returned to the silent depths of mental absence. Or, he tried to, anyways. It was a tad difficult to space out (as he very much would have liked to do) once he'd caught a bit of what was being said, regardless of whether or not he wanted to actually hear these things.

Once he'd begun to pay more attention, he noticed that, apparently, there had been some sort of proposal posed by the Slayer trash. The ultimatum was (as far as he'd understood things) that the angel-creature would provide either information on their enemy, or be returned to his clutches against her own will. Or... something of that sort. What leverage. Silently, he hoped that, if the latter were the case, they would be rid of her forever. Sweet unholy hellfire, he never wanted to be this close to anything associated with the anti-infernal crucifix ever, ever again. And if he did? Well, he sure did hope he'd be physically tolerant by then, because he would really, really want to beat the living daylights out of it.

Naturally, she just HAD to go along with the Slayers DAMN plot, and agree to provide what had been asked for. Nirvana briefly considered killing himself right then and there. But, he decided against it. It was the coward's way out. If only it were an option...

But, the torture wasn't quite over. He looked up with narrowed eyes, a visible scowl, an barred teeth when, of all people, the human was the one to approach him. She didn't seem at all apprehensive, either. Nirvana wasn't quite sure which disturbed him more. The hell was her problem? He was just surrounded, surrounded with maniacs. No doubt about it. When she touched him, he nearly hit the fucking roof. Talk about destroying comfort zones. This took the cake.

And what she had to say to him, well, that didn't help at all.

“Well, if Nixon’s staying here, something will need to be done to curb your…” a pause, and Nirvana tensed out of sheer instinct. Pauses were never a good thing. “…discomfort." Oh, FUCK YOU. "You clearly haven’t undergone tolerance training… a little odd for a demon, but I can help you." YEAH FUCKING RIGHT. "You’d just need to trust I know what I’m talking about, no matter how crazy it sounds to you." NOPE. "No matter how unconventional. No matter how much it sounds like complete bullshit." NOT DOING YOURSELF MUCH GOOD HERE, FILTH. "I’ve had the pleasure of training quite a few of your kind over the years." Pleasure? YOU SOME KIND of MASOCHIST? "I do a better job than the demon teachers themselves." BULLSHIT. "I can have you feeling better before this thing lands.” Oh, sure. SURE. “What do you say?”

He was quiet for a moment. Sure, pauses weren't a good thing, but sometimes they were necessary. "What do I say? WHAT do I say?" He smiled a painful smile, more of a grimace actually, by definition, and chuckled for a bit before responding, as if it were all just some sort of elaborate joke. "I say... FUCK OFF, STUPID WENCH." Suddenly, his voice went very low, almost a whisper. "I'm fine. I'm fucking fine, alright? FUCKING ALRIGHT." He tugged his hand away from hers, adopting a disdainful, disgusted sneer as he rose slowly from his seat on the floor, sickle tight in hand, yet not quite in the ready position. "I don't need your help. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? In fact, that IS PROBABLY the LAST THING that I need, so keep your BULLSHIT TO yourself."

He'd never wanted to be elsewhere so much in his entire life.