Tony Manisty was far beyond any typical ghoul. Tony was the sort that gave other honest, face eating, body dismembering and grave violating ghouls a bad name. Few were ever as creative as Tony. He cornered the market on reanimated hookers in the West End. If you wanted some cheap flesh and had no qualms with the feel of cold pie and a hickey that may leave no flesh on your neck, Tony had the necromantic goods. That creativity is what lead Ivy to deal with the ghoul the first day he met him.

Not every day you could find an endless supply of undead mules to stash your drug caches when dealing on the streets. People have to be crazy to attack zombies full of medications especially when one of their pimps could kill you and enjoy eating your corpse. Those were the old days when inventing new ways to snare people with chemicals and maintaining a high profit margin kept you off of Velp's hit list. The vampire could care less if you were a small time cronie working for him, a competitor or a major manufacturer of his goods. Cross his ancient lines chiseled into granite and filled with spilled blood and you were good as dead.

Now, Ivy found himself stepping onto a descending set of rotting stairs leading into the stench and smoke billowing from a hole in the wall called the Osiris Club. A skulking Red Cap wearing his finest tuxedo tatters moved in front of a heavy metal door with flaking green paint on it.

"Hold up there twinkle toes. You got a reservation for the club?" The Red Cap asked in a snorking, phlegm filled voice.

A slim black eyebrow rose on Ivy's light ebony face. "Since when is the Osiris prestigious enough for reservations?"

The Red Cap slapped the metal door with a loud, hollow thump, and held the other one out the Ivy in a balled up ham of a fist. "Since the minute I didn't likes you bub. Private party inside. Turn around and go nibble some hookers neck, twinkle toes."

Ivy rocked back a little on his boot heels in quiet thought and mirth at the insult, hand deep within his naval coat. "I am hear to see Tony Manisty. I am sure my old colleague will not mind me visiting nor finding a replacement."

The Red Cap's cruel, dark skinned face furrowed in deep thought. "Replacement? Fer what? Yer making no sense you loony vampire. Now scram!"

"You fail to understand that I am going to see my friend Tony, old chap." Ivy moved towards him.

"I said scram! No passage without a reservation..." The Red Cap never finished his line.

In the two steps Ivy had taken, his hand blurred from coat pocket to the Red Cap's neck, laying open a wide swath of putrid red blood slicking the creatures chest and tattered tuxedo. The other hand blurred and he struck the temple of the Red Cap's head sending him into the concrete wall with a wet crunch. Ivy took off the black gloves he was wearing and dropped the iron dagger he was holding onto the Red Caps corpse.

"My only reservation is losing a fine pair of moleskin gloves to your stinking blood. I'll make sure Tony brings you into a good service from beyond the grave, if he lives." Ivy spoke to the corpse and wrenched open the heavy metal door.

The throbbing bass of Rob Zombie's 'Living Dead Girl' echoed up the steeper set of concrete steps leading into the depths of Osiris Club. Ivy descended into the darkness, fingers tapping along his leather clad thigh to the chorus lines of the song.

Just past a string of glow and rotate purple bead curtains, Ivy's low light vision picked out the room with ease as black lights lit up many of the undead girls in glowing fashion that died in the 1970's on Earth while they shuffled to the music. Ah, well, one planets dead trends is Rhydin's booming market. The room was littered with tables, a few knocked over chairs, couches that wreaked of mold, mildew and other unsavory fluids Ivy didn't bother to think about.

Several demons were down lounging with a few human pets, ignoring the decayed eye candy. Several ghouls were at a table discussing their recent buffet at the cemetery and a small knot of robed humans, from the gaudy and cheap robes, belonged to some fly by night necromantic cult. Par for the course for Osiris and far from private party.

Stepping up to the make shift bar of recycled coffin planks and a scattering of grungy bottles harboring liquids best hidden in the dark, Ivy spoke with the banshee tending the night shift. She was a slight looker, but Ivy never liked screamers.

"I'm looking for Tony." Ivy said quietly.

The banshee gave him a stare that could curdle wet cement. "One drink minimum if you want information, drifter."

"AB+ chilled, not shaken with a drop or two of Lycan blood. Can you manage that, windy?" Ivy asked with a flash of white fangs.

The banshee gave him a shrill whistle of disgust and fixed his drink, slapping it on the bar. "20 silver crowns."

"20? For blood? For that price I can take you out back." Ivy fished some the silver crowns from an inner pocket on the coat and slid them over to the banshee. "Tony, where is he?"

The banshee tossed her head, black light setting her dishwater grey hair aglow. "The Jiggy room, looking over new shufflers for the masses. I wouldn't go in there unless you like losing your face."

Ivy just grinned, lifted the glass and knocked back the blood. A lick of his lips and he set the glass on the bar top of old, dirt stained pine wood. He fished a gold coin, minted for Russia circa 1819. "Pick up some blood that isn't clotted, find a Lycan that isn't diabetic, and keep the rest to replace your bouncer. He's a bit stiff."

Ivy stood up and walked for the black door marked with a gaudy pentagram painted with fake blood. He just shook his head as Rob Zombie's 'Foxy Foxy' started over the karaoke machine turned makeshift DJ stand. Ivy opened the door and slipped in.

There was Tony, rubbing shoulders with a grimy care taker of one of Rhydin's many cemeteries as they gazed over several gurneys displaying freshly exhumed bodies no more than a week old. The yellowed eyes of Tony appraised each corpse like some diamond dealer in the higher market societies of Belgium. They both looked to Ivy when the door was heard opening. Tony's eyes seemed to bug more than usual.

"Ivan!" the ghoul grunted. "You're a walking dead man these days. I see no one's put you six feet under. I have your grave plot watched every day." He licked rubbery, black lips.

"Charming as ever Tony." Ivy said with not hint of emotion. His pale hazels flicked to the care taker. "If you like your profession and don't wish to end up like one of your clients, leave."

The caretaker, a thin, gangly man with a hawkish nose swallowed hard. He bowed to Tony. "Let me know if ye like whats ye see Tony. Payment as usual and what you don't like is free to you. A meal on the house." The care taker said in a thin, high voice and he edged away from the ghoul and the staring vampire.

Soon the door closed leaving Ivy and Tony alone with dead men and women who tell no tales, yet. Tony snarled at Ivy. "Ivan, you should treat my business partners with more respect. He gives me the finest dead flesh a silver crown can buy. It's not easy finding a competent grave robber for cheap. Now why are you here?"

Ivy took off his silver framed, ruby lensed glasses and put them into his coat. "Let's cut the bullshit Tony. I set you up as one of my best distributors that can stay under the radar for peddling drugs. You were also the first one I told when I left Hollow's Bio Cell to stop peddling Brimstone and all of its variants or we would have a settling of accounts."

Tony tried to give a look of wounded pride that made that crag of a face even more hideous. "I don't peddle nothin' but cold, jiggling necro booty these days."

Ivy went from standing by the door to standing by Tony in a second, not a sound made. His hand found the ghouls greasy neck and he slammed Tony's face down into the stainless steel gurney, twice. "Explain the dead tweaker I killed 15 minutes ago, selling all variations of Brimstone and using your name like a safe word so he doesn't get boned by all the local gangs."

Tony was snarling now and cussing in infernal. "That hurt you day walking weasel! Anyone can use my name. I aint peddling drugs!" he snarled and grabbed for Ivy's leather clad leg with fingers hooked with nasty talons.

Ivy let Tony bend down to grab and sent a knee smashing into the ghoul's nose, feeling, satisfied by the crunch of cartilage and rotting bone. He flung Tony across the room to crash into the dry wall to land sprawled in an adjoining bathroom. A goth chic, wreaking of Lotus Kiss sat on the toilet, the glass pipe in her hand smoking as she laughed at what anyone could guess her mind saw the ghoul as.

Tony spat out blood from his split lips and sprang to his feet, spinning to glare at Ivy. Ghouls, were, if not super intelligent, made very durable and rugged. Tony sent dry wall flying as he charged for Ivy, murder in those yellow eyes. Ivy stepped back, hand blurring and pulled a .45 revolver from within his coat and planted three hollow point rounds packed with Igrim root and Lilac into each hollow. The shots overrode Rob Zombie's 'Two Lane' thumping at the door.

The ghoul sat down on the gritty tiled floor with a woof of knocked out breath. He gasped and clutched his chest in pain. Ivy knelt in front of Tony, his forearm resting on his leg, revolver pointed right at Tony's forehead.

"Let's see. You have an underage elf in that bathroom hopped up on Lotus Kiss. The bathroom is in your club. We both know Lotus Kiss is a bit of Zinger mixed with Brimstone. Plus, the kid I killed was wearing a pink shirt with a dope smiley face on a tablet. You're hallmark for designer drugs Tony. Confess and I will put a bullet in your head giving you a quick death, or I can just let you sit here with a festering poison that feeds on the unique pathogens within ghoul blood. Your choice Tony." Ivy said quietly.

Tony wheeze, slid a hand into his blood stained tweed vest and something was heard clicking. "Go rot in hell Ivan, you aint no stinkin' saint." he spat blood onto Ivy's face.

Ivy withdrew a handkerchief from his coat, wiped the blood away and dropped the soiled cloth to the ground. He stood. "Have it your way. Your chest must be hurting. Circulating fire through your veins. I'm sure you'd love a distraction from that pain." he put the revolver away, unsheathed his Gladius and sliced off one of Tony's legs just above the knee. He left the howling, gibbering ghoul to die in his loved Jiggy room.

Ivy's steps were quick. He knew what that click was. A distress call to Velps personal yes men. A look around the Osiris Club. Same stiffs, same patrons, not an eye batted to him. Ivy hit the stairs and made for the street. The club was just a sleazy front for making pick ups. Nothing was stored there, and with Tony soon to be dead, dealers relying on him will be scrambling for a few weeks looking for new connections while the other peddlers tore into the leaderless drug cache.

Reaching the top of the stairs, his head barely peaked above the last step when a grey pickup rolled by and several men in black shirts and masks raked the entry to the club with AK-47 fire. Ivy ducked as rounds chewed into concrete around him and ricocheted. The pickup rolled by and the drive by shooting ended for a moment. Ivy popped up and he heard a man yell.

"You missed him! You missed him! Back it up and nail the bastard!" Gears ground as the pickup shuddered going from drive to reverse.

Ivy wasted no time. He cleared the last four steps with one jump and his boots hit concrete running. He went right for that open bed of the truck. The masked men shouted in surprised and started to open fire sporadically as they didn't expect their target to charge them. Local rent a thugs, Ivy thought as he leaped, rounds chewing the pavement he was on a second later. Hands blurred, hurtling throwing knives two at a time with half a vampires strength.

The men screamed as the knives hit home, slid through them like a hot knife through butter and buried themselves deep into the metal bed of the truck. Ivy's jump put him in perfect alignment with the top of the truck cab. He landed, caving in the sheet metal with a heavy thump. Gladius was drawn and stabbed down into the cab through the passengers skull. The driver opened his door and bolted from the truck, leaving it running. He was fleeing for his life.

Ivy toyed with a thought. Leave the man alive and he can spread word that a new justice was in West End taking down the drug cartel Vesp had going. Or kill the man and let Vesp read the news and see the pictures of what happens when you mess with Ivan Vel Yovin. Ivy let the coward run. He spent enough lives tonight and they were trying to kill him so it all canceled out in his books. Wrenching the sword free of truck and skull, he flicked the blood off, sheathed the sword and dropped down to the pavement. He took off, running with silent ease away from the place that would crawl with Watch members in a few more minutes. He took several long, twisted routes through the city before he went to his favorite cemetery plot and descended into his lair.

The sound of glass shattering was lost among the lapping of waves around the barnacle encrusted dock piers. Not a soul stirred during the midnight hour at the Harbor Master?s office. A hand clad in black leather slipped through the broken pane of glass set in the weathered wooden door. The lock and deadbolt were undone and the door opened then closed. Booted feet made no sound as the man, clad in a full, black trench coat walked through the small, two room building. The man moved for the filing cabinets in the back of the second room and stopped in front of a filing cabinet marked ?Ship Registry?. Gloved hand pulled open the drawer marked F-M and the rustle of manila folders whispered in the quiet office; a small beam of light cast on them from a pen light tucked in the man?s mouth. The manila envelope marked ?Glasgow Harlequin? was removed and taken to a table.

The file was flipped open and from one of the trench coats deep pockets a small digital camera was withdrawn. Flickers of the camera flash illuminated the room as pages were photographed, flipped and read. Soon the camera went back into the trench coat pocket. The file was returned to the cabinet and as the man walked for the front door, he paused, grabbed a broom and dustpan and swept up the glass. He dumped the glass shards in the trash, put the broom and dustpan back then left the office. Door was closed and reaching back in, relocked the door covering his evident break in by maybe a factor of 10 minutes at first glance.

~*~*~*~*~*

Walking through his study door, Ivy took off his trench coat, hung it up and slid the black leather gloves off of his hands. From the coat he retrieved the camera and synced it to his computer terminal and downloaded the files. As soon as the files finished they flashed up on one of his large flat screens as he went to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of chilled O+ and poured a wine glass full of the deep red blood stabilized with anti-coagulants. Bottle in one hand, glass in the other he sipped as he read the files.

As he read, he smiled, fang tips showing on his lower lip. He knew as soon as he read the paper detailing the report from the Captain of the Glasgow Harlequin that Reginald Haliford was involved. The ship registry confirmed the weapons dealer as the owner. The business address listed was one of many fronts Ivy knew. A place that physically existed but now no longer stood given the rash of bombings in the Market Place district during the year.

?Villa, cross reference known registry address with my black list.? Ivy spoke.

Something whirred quietly in the room. ?Villa online, good evening Sir Yoven. A cross reference is running and has found one plausible match. Baristen Manor at the edge of the cities Market District and West End with one owner, Reginald Delroy Baristen. Your list indicates he was the only one granted permission to use the fake address provided. Would you like blue prints, Sir Yoven?? asked a female voice with a crisp Russian accent.

Ivy took another long swallow of blood before responding. ?You have access to them Villa??

?Of course, Sir Yoven, you did install the latest cracking software and spider coding into my mainframe. Granted, most resources on Rhydin?s internet web are hardly secure. Childs play picking apart the security codes. Shall I access them Sir?? Villa asked.

?Yes, Villa, pull up the blue prints but check them according to date stamps. A blue print is only as good as the day it is made.? Ivy said.

He paced around his study, refilling his wine glass and setting the bottle down. He let his free hand drift along the spines of the many books housed in his study. As Villa worked away his mind turned to strategy. How best to handle Haliford, or the now known Baristen? Waltzing in to his compound was suicide; Haliford wasn?t as lazy as Menisty was in running his affairs. Arson was out of the question. Ivy had to be sure Haliford. Nerve gas perhaps? He did have several two dispersal canisters but not enough to take on a large compound. He may have to enlist the help of someone.

?Blue prints acquired Sir. I?ve taken the liberty of pulling all versions of the blue prints and overlaying them. They are accurate to about 5 months ago. ? Villa spoke with her invisible voice.

Ivy looked at the blue print overlays on the second flat screen. The Baristen Compound was huge. Several office buildings, two warehouses, utility bunkers and the manor itself sat on the compound property. Ivy tapped his booted foot in long thought. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. He couldn?t make that much nerve gas, not in short enough time as he knew word was getting around that someone was killing Rolo?s dealers.

?Villa, satellite photos if you can find any of the Baristen Compound.? Ivy asked.

In seconds three satellite photos were brought up and magnified. Ivy studied them more, the data reflecting on his ruby lenses. Light ebony fingers reached up to tap the screen in several places, blowing up the image and clarifying it. He tapped on another photo and looked at several more details.

?He has a lot of security installations, bunkers and patrols.? Ivy closed the images and looked at the blue prints.

There were several service corridors running under the Manor itself connecting to the public sewers. He was betting those access points were guarded as well. He finished his bloody drink and sat the glass down by the empty bottle.

?Villa, calculate my odds of breaking into Baristen Manor with my current skills and armament at my possession.?

?Current probabilities are 70% chance of capture, 10% chance of death and 20% chance of achieving your goals. A slight increase to your positive odds if you were to employ you vampiric talents at full effect.? Villa said.

?Wonderful. Nothing is worth doing if a bit of blood isn?t leaked. Thank you for your assistance Villa.? Ivy said and he left his study heading for the armory.

?You are very welcome Sir Yoven.? Villa said and powered down.

Entering his armory, Ivy looked over his vast array of weaponry and armor. Fire arms were indeed to be expected as well as a few explosives perhaps. From the armor lockers he slid a new suit of chainmail on over his grey silk, long sleeve shirt and black dress pants. The metal woven as coated in black oxide hiding the titanium and mythril weave. That would stop most blades and some small fire arm rounds as well as arrows and crossbow bolts. Next he strapped a weapons harness. Ivy moved to his arms lockers and started to gear up. As usual, his well loved Gladius was strapped about his waist with a black leather belt cradling 10 throwing knives. He hung a UMP on each of his side harness clips. He added two Micro Uzi?s to the waist clips on the back and finally holstered two .45 automatic pistols, one on each hip. Ivy selected 4 fragmentation grenades, 4 smoke bombs, and 4 flash bangs all hung on the chest clips. To finish his selection he chose two cases with a gas dispersal canister in each of the black plastic boxes. Mostly a mix of knock out gas and hallucinogenic chemicals the gas would help thin out the numbers. An array of ammo clips finished off the last of the empty slots on his weapon harness.

Now to cover his arsenal, Ivy looked at his various coats. His usual hall mark naval coat would not do, nor the black leather duster he had worn earlier. Instead he chose a dark olive green overcoat often favored by winter troops in Russia. It seemed padded for the cold but that was the secret. The stuffing and insulation stripped. Instead, the interior compartments were lined with layers of Kevlar and thin sheets of titanium. It was heavy to most humans, but to Ivy as he shrugged it on, weighed about 5 pounds. He slipped on a black gas mask and drew the coats hood up. He headed for the entry of his underground lair and left it; a black case in either hand.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was early morning when Ivy reached the sewer access in the West End district of Rhydin. The sun was just starting to peek in on the city streets. Few people paid attention to somebody in a coat and hood carrying two black plastic cases. It was Rhydin city and the few early morning citizens wouldn?t think it strange, even ones wearing gas masks; thinking perhaps it was breathing gear for some odd race. Reaching the sewer access, a glorified manhole cover, Ivy propped it open, dropped the cases down below, then clung to the embedded rungs of the ladder and descended pulling the cover over him.

Once he was inside the sewers he took off down one end, cases in hand, following the route he saw on the blueprints. After a good 20 minutes of slogging through Rhydin?s waste, slowed at a fork in the tunnels. To the left, he would end up heading for the docks, to the right Baristen Compound. This is the break point in his mission. Up ahead were likely guards or security systems. Mess up now, the whole compound will be alert. Setting the cases down, he pressed up against the side of the tunnel, moves slowly to the edge of the right fork and looked down it. It was a straight corridor, about 1 mile long. He could see some kind of gate blocking the tunnel. He went back to the cases and picked them up then returned to the right corridor. Ivy walked down it and halfway to the block, he let them go to fall with a splash and pulled out a flash bang and held it ready, the other hand drawing his sword.

As Ivy drew closer, it was indeed a blockade. Wrought iron grilling was set in place with a heavy bar door set in it. Just behind were two guards, wearing black uniforms, and to Ivy?s eyes, night vision goggles. His steps so far had been quiet and they were not looking his way. He found it odd that a compound with high tech security on the surface left a sewer access to low tech security. He was 50 feet from the grill when his boot sank a bit as it landed. Something had been depressed and Ivy froze. A roaring sound soon flooded the tunnel as two explosions ripped apart the entry at the fork collapsing debris and sealing off his escape route. The guards before him didn?t budge an inch as the dust and smoke cleared.

Ivy felt a small prickle at the back of his neck and took several steps forward. Closer now, he could see they hung from strings in the ceiling. Reaching the gate he found it unlocked. Pushing it open he stepped through and inspected the guards more. Mock ups, dummies and prop weapons, he was definitely walking into a trap he?d already sprung. He sheathed his sword and put the flash bang away for the moment then retrieved his plastic cases. Well then, if this was a trap and they knew he was coming stealth was pointless now.

Let the show begin comrades.

~*~*~*~*~*

The journey through the rest of the sewer tunnel was uneventful. He noticed many access points had been sealed long ago leading him to only one that worked. He was standing under it now and if his calculation and memory of the blueprints were correct, it put him right below the main security office of the compound. Ivy laughed at this revelation and dropped one case. The other case he opened and withdrew a large stainless steel canister with a magnetic exhaust valve attached to it. He went up the rungs of service ladder and inspected the cover; it had vent holes drilled in it. He stuck the canister to the underside of the cover and depressed the activation trigger. A subtle hissing started as something smoky flowed out of the canister and through the vent holes in the cover.

Ivy hopped down, checked a built in watch on his coat and set a timer. He opened the other case now and readjusted its canisters dispersal setting and mixture. He removed the canister, held onto it and sat on the closed case. His hazel eyes watched the chronometer on his watch tick away. As it hit the 10 minute mark he stood and ascended the ladder. He tried the cover and noticed it was welded shut. Balancing on the rungs, canisters in one hand, he punched the cover and it buckled. Another blow and it flew up and away from the whole to clatter with the attached and empty canister on the concrete floor.

Ivy climbed out of the hole and looked about. The room was slightly hazy from the gas as he looked through the gas mask. He withdrew a .45 and walked for a set of stairs leading up and ascended them. Reaching the door, paused, opened his coat and attached the gas canister to a large carabineer on his belt. He checked the door. Finding it unlocked, he opened it, withdrew the other .45 and walked out into a hallway that lead straight ahead. The haze was here as well and he walked quietly following the hall. Soon it turned left and opened into a break room.

Several security people were sprawled on the floor, table and couches, unconscious. He noticed security cameras in the room and looked at his watch. He gave himself 5 minutes tops before someone realized he was this far. He walked by the unconscious men and women. They?d wake with a nasty head ache in a few hours. Ivy found the door to the office?s lobby and stepped inside. The front of the security building was all glass and he was just starting to see a group of security officers running for the building. Well then, he underestimated Haliford?s efficiency. He ducked behind the main call desk and got really close with an unconscious call operator. He shoved the chair and limp body out of the way. Pulling out one flash bang he waited.

The sound of the front was heard clicking open and being blocked to stay open. They were venting the building, a smart move. Ivy pulled the pin and tossed the flash bang over the desk. The cry of ?Grenade!? hit the air followed by a loud piercing bang and a flash of bright light. Ivy popped up and with both .45?s dropped all four officers with a shot to the head on each one. He saw a swarm of guards and a jeep coming around one building; a .50 caliber machine gun mounted and manned on it. Okay, flash bang was not a good idea.

Quickly he ducked just as the jeep and lead guards opened up with gun fire. Glass shattered and wood splintered all around him as the volley hit. Taking two smoke grenades he pulled the pins and popped up when the gunfire ceased and threw them. Several of the guards scattered thinking them explosive as Ivy ducked. Foul black and gray smoke soon erupted in front of the building and street blinding many, gagging others on the sulfur smell and blocking the aim of others. Ivy holstered the .45?s and drew one UMP and cocked the automatic assault rifle.

Standing he ran into the thick of the smoke trusting his vampire senses to guide him through the maze of dazed, confused and choking bodies. He raised the UMP as he sensed the jeep and opened fire upon it and the men stationing it. Screams of pain greeted his ears as his senses told him the occupants of the jeep were fading fast. He soon broke free of the smoke screen and found himself on an open avenue that wouldn?t stay that way for long. He sprinted for the nearby warehouse he could see. Shouts were coming from all over the compound as the whole facility realized that trapping a living vamp was going to cost them a pretty penny. The door to the warehouse opened to show a surprised guard staring at a fast approaching man wearing a snow coat and a gas mask. Ivy didn?t slow his pace and slammed a fist into the man?s face as he reached him in four seconds flat. The guard?s body flew back into the ware house, the guard dead from the lethal concussion.

Running inside, Ivy closed the door quickly and surveyed the area. As typical, the warehouse had floor to ceiling aisles filled with crates, about three propane fueled forklifts and running along the catwalk three guards converging on his position firing pistols. Ivy rolled from the line of fire and darted for the forklifts. Stopping by the rear of one of the yellow machines he crouched. Gun fire ricocheted around him. He reached up and yanked one propane tank free of the forklift with a horrid screech of torn metal. He waited as they fired more then rolled into the open and flung the tank up at them. He lit it up with the UMP. It didn?t explode as nothing was hot enough to ignite the propane but the sudden explosive release of compressed gas rocketed the canister like a missile to smash into one guard sending him to his death below. Ivy fired two short bursts dropping the other guards.

He was up and moving again to the other two forklifts. Mounting one, he started it up and shot forward with it and aimed for the main row of support pillars on the first column of shelves. He jammed the accelerator down and wrenched it into place then leapt off as it ran for a kamikaze meeting with the shelves. A horrid sound of metal colliding, crates breaking then the sickening sound of screaming metal as it buckled flooding the warehouse with debris as aisles of shelves toppled and fell. Fire arms, various packages and relief supplies spilled out of the crates. A fire started as the forklift, finally wedged under a half collapsed aisle overheated and blew the propane tank on it. The fire lapped up the broken crates like kindling and the various packages burning put up toxic chemical clouds of various illegal drugs and mundane items for everyday use.

Ivy ran to the back of the warehouse and exited it. The backside of the compound was quiet for the moment as fire alarms went off now. Well if he ever wanted an award for causing panic and chaos, today would?ve gotten him one. He ran down the alley to his right angling for the Manor. He paused at the edge of an office building and noticed a nice flow of guards in and out of the Manor at break neck speed. Ivy continued to move down the alley past the opening unseen. Finding the rear exit he kicked it off of its hinges, the metal door crumpled against the interior wall with a shriek. He moved inside and down a small service hall until he wound up in an industrial sized kitchen just as several guards arrived. They opened fire on him and he darted to his left and ran for the counters, several rounds pegging him good. The mail and coat working for now, only leaving bruises to form on him later.

Behind the counters, he crouched, working his way to the end and returned fire. Two guards went down as several more fired back. Ivy ducked and heard something heavy crash to the linoleum floor. He peered around the corner and fired at the last guard he saw diving for the cover of a large standing freezer they had pulled down. The guard screamed as he was hit by the rounds. Several more volleys tore into the kitchen counters, driving Ivy back a bit as he reloaded the UMP. Taking a frag grenade he pulled the pin, cooked it for 5 seconds and tossed it over hand. It hit the freezer, bounced up and fell behind it exploding. More screams then silence. He unclipped the second UMP and took a calm breath. It hissed out of the bio-filters on his gas mask.

Ivy darted from behind the shot up counter and hurtled the freezer and went out of the kitchen. He was running down a long hall with stair way openings ahead on both sides and an open archway filled with crouching guards. They opened fire on Ivy and he felt the volleys slamming into his body as the rounds tried penetrating his armor. He duck, raising an arm to protect his head and open fired with one UMP until it emptied. The archway was littered with bodies and screams. Ivy dropped the spent UMP deciding reloading it would cost precious seconds. He kept running though his speed had slowed, his body had taken a pounding, the coat quite tattered and many areas ready to buckle.

He went up the left stair case and ended up on a raised balcony of sorts overlooking the main foyer. It was filling with security as staff was being evacuated with the rest of the non armed personnel he could see out the windows. Ivy unhooked the gas canister, set it off and white toxic fumes spewed from it. This mixture was adjusted to be lethal and he heaved it over the banister to land below. The large room was rapidly filling with the gas, dropping people left and right. Ivy grinned seeing his handiwork at play and turned to head down the main hall when a loud crack was heard and he felt pain lance his left shoulder and a heavy force spun him around to drop him to his hands and knees facing the hallway. He looked up and saw a man wearing a gas mask, full ballistic body armor and bracing a .50 cal Desert Eagle in his hands.

?So the vaunted assassin has landed squarely in my trap.? The man?s voice was distorted through the mask. ?Never send the lower dregs of your staff to handle a military bravado.? He started to walk for Ivy, gun trained on him.

?That is where you?re wrong. I?m not military, I?m a chemist.? Ivy spoke; his voice distorted.

Ivy tested his left shoulder, felt warmth spreading down his chest. He should have expected higher fire power on some of the personnel. Ivy threw himself to the left and the blast of the .50 cal pistol chewed a hole in the wood floor. Ivy?s roll put him onto the stairs where he rolled all the way to down to the floor with a pained grunt. Just why was he doing this? Oh right, vengeance. He pulled out his Mini Uzis as he stood painfully and stepped back into the hall with dead bodies. He jumped over them and a chunk of marble column exploded from a round missing his head. His only saving grace was the toxic cloud he was in.

Ivy spun and unloaded both of the Mini Uzis, training his fire on the balcony causing a spray of splinters and spent casings to fly. A distorted laugh and another loud crack of gunfire and he felt his right leg sting and flare in pain. He clipped his spent guns and limped behind a marble column. He pulled out two frag grenades.

Footsteps crunched on the balcony as the armored man walked to a stair case. ?Such brazen attacks against my compound as well as the use of toxic gases upon my staff; add to them the reports in all the papers and I believe only one man could hold such hatred for the successful cartel of Baron Velsp.? The distorted voice drifted through the smoke. The man was soon in the open arch way. ?Is that you in that ridiculous get up, Ivan? Have you grown a temper at not being in the limelight anymore??

Ivy grinned under his mask. Only Haliford could be that quick in putting pieces together. ?I could be just one very determined tax collector. Are your accounts in order Baristen, or should I call you Haliford??

Ivy darted from the column popped his pins and threw the grenades at the arch and rolled behind another marble column. Haliford leapt into a stairwell and that saved his life barely as the frags went off peppering the hallway with shrapnel. He lost his gone in the escape and laughed.

?Ah it is you Ivy. So sorry you are throwing a temper tantrum, but what do you expect when you go soft in Velsp?s cartel? That he?d pat you on the back and tell you everything is alright? That you could go back to being a quaint chemist and live a legitimate life? Hardly, you know there is no room for a vampire in the regular world. We cling to the darkness and all of its trappings.? Haliford said from the stairwell.

Ivy was stunned for a moment hearing Haliford. We? ?Since when did you join the ranks of blood sucking??

Ivy unclipped his Mini Uzis and slipped in fresh clips. Haliford was stripping out of his armor though he was clad in leather and chain mail. He left the stairwell and entered the smoke filled room, gas mask rasping out his breathing.

?Ever since Velsp has heard the commotion that is being stirred up, he instructed Rolo to take certain steps to ensure business continues. I was made a vampire two days ago. Now then, you better surrender as the entire manor is surrounded by my guards and Rhydin authorities have been alerted to the violence.? Haliford suggested.

?How about you do me a favor and kiss my @ss befor taking a nice, sunlit walk.? Ivy said.

He burst around the column and emptied the set of Mini Uzis at Haliford. The man, lighter now without the armor blurred and dodged the barrage, ending up behind a marble column now. Ivy tossed the spent guns and drew his Gladius. Haliford heard the guns hit the floor and he laughed.

?Out of toys so soon, Ivy?? he said, stepping away from the column. He unsheathed a saw toothed katana.

?Who do you think I am? Batman?? Ivy darted forward, executing a fast thrust to be followed up by two cuts for the legs if he didn?t miss.

Haliford sidestepped and parried the thrust landing a slash on Ivy?s back tearing into the coat and snagging on the mail beneath before pulling free. Ivy spun around and weaved several slashes together as he advanced. Haliford once more parried each slash with a speed only and undead vampire could obtain. He pressed in on Ivy with a flurry of his own strikes, the coat Ivy had was in ribbons now as Ivy could only block a few strikes. Ivy backed up a few paces and held up a gloved hand. Haliford paused a moment in confusion, as Ivy removed the coat leaving him in black mail that was dented, warped and torn in several areas. He waved Haliford to come at him.

?Such arrogance!? Haliford snarled.

?Such stupidity for giving me the chance to take off the coat.? Ivy advanced, faster this time with less armor on.

Both vampires parried, slashed and drove each other back and forth, neither keeping the ground they often gained. As they dueled Ivy noticed something as that katana slashed at him time and time again. The saw tooth pattern was a weakness. Each time it met Ivy?s double edged sword, cracks appeared where each tooth began. He grinned and pressed his attacks on Haliford more, being quite aggressive and wild. He wanted Haliford to block more. Haliford was baffled at how Ivy was now throwing any semblance of sword play away for a suicidal frenzy. Until metal screeched and his katana snapped in half; Haliford stared in shock.

Ivy took that moment of shock and socked Haliford right in mask staggering the undead vamp with his head whipping back. Ivy lunged and drove the point of his sword right at Haliford chest, piercing the steel mail and sliding right into the heart of the undead vampire. Screams issued from the gas mask then smoke as Halifords body reacted to the silver nitrate acid coating Ivy?s blade. Ivy planted a boot into the undead vamps belly and shoved him off of the sword. Haliford went down in a crumpled heap as he burned from the inside out, turning to ash.

Ivy dropped to the floor in exhaustion and pain. The toxic gas was thinning out and anyone with a brain would be breaking out the gas masks and attempt an entry on the manor. Sheathing his sword he limped for the arch way, then up the stairs. Reaching the second floor he went down the hall to get deeper inside. He found Haliford?s office door and shoved his way inside, breaking the door off the hinges. The office was posh and garish just like Haliford had been to Ivy?s hazed recollection. The large windows faced the blue sky, the top of the compounds security wall and the Market Place district behind it.

Ivy started to laugh seeing the expected exit. He looked about the room quickly, searching for anything valuable for intel. Two laptops lay on the desk and he laughed more. Shutting them both closed, he pulled out their power cords forcing them into battery mode, clutched them to his chest and charged the window. He went through them with a crash of glass and gilt framing and landed on the security wall with a wobble as his injured leg threatened to collapse on him. Shouts were heard, alerting others to his whereabouts. He leapt off the wall onto the roof of a nearby pawn shop and took off into the day light, peeling off his gas mask and throwing into a dumpster below him.

The compound behind him was in complete distress as ammunition in the warehouse went off from the fire as well as live explosive being held there. Fire soon spread to the other compound buildings and remaining warehouse. The security walls would keep the fire from spreading but by the end of the day, the whole Baristen Manor compound was ruins and ash.

The lap tops deposited several weeks ago, Ivan was keeping a very low profile and pursuing other goals. He had hoped his vanishing act may throw off Dimitri and the remaining Cartel Lords. That hope turned to cold dread as he found a letter in the mouth of the gargoyle he was using for communications with Brian during a routine patrol.

The note was held withing a crimson vellum envelope, writ upon paper of black, inked with liquid silver.

Dear Ivan Van Yovin,

As a favorite philosopher of mine used to say; "The spider thinks it is the cleverist hunter, spinning and laying its web to snare the unprepared. Clever it is until that web is snapped, wrapping up the hunter for the hunted."

Alas, that philosopher is dead, by your very hands Ivan. You have killed my brother Reginald. You have torched his property and business. You have smeared the name Haliford with your crusade. I am very displeased with the death of my brother, irate at the loss of his personal belongings and business; quite happily I would hunt you down and put you down like the rabid beast you are.

But, I will not give into a hasty revenge. You will savor every bit of pain I put you through. My brother has taught me well over the years. You think you are clever using various locals for meetings and staying hidden where none would look. It is time for your web to be your tomb. By time you've finished this letter, your lair will be like my brother's mansion. A pyre dedicated to your final fall. Enjoy the ash.

~Dimitri Haliford

Ivy didn't hesitate to act. He ran all the way back to the old cemetary and drew short, staying away from the swarming crew of fire fighters and Watch. The whole place was a blaze with the crypt he was using spouting gouts of flames. A few muffled explosions rumbled through the ground as his laboratory and weapons cache exploded. Everything he had was gone in that blaze. Research, notes, intel and equipment but the one thing he was glad was not there was Icey; she was off with a friend for the day.

He leaned against an old, trimmed oak tree and took deep breaths. He pulled out his phone, sent Icey a message to not come home. To stay with her friends for now until he said otherwise. He put the phone away and walked away from the blazing cemetary. He'd just lost half of the hand he'd been dealt and hoarding. Pale hazels glinted hard in the cold November air. He was being too nice to the cartels and this was a softness he was not repeating.

The grumbling screech of a rusty sliding bay door echoed through the copse of trees that Ivy stood within. He was before a domed building that looked overrun with the native plant life of the Southern Glen; the old laboratory of the notorious and crazy Ammy Spiritor. He stepped inside and lights flickered on automatically. The upper level showed a lot of plastic sheets covering various boxes, unused equipment and several new placed pallets with his gear upon it.

He moved to the pallets and inspected each and every item she had promised him. He was satisfied the Lupinossai woman was honest to her word about the quality of her work. He left the pallets and walked to a stair well that led to the lower levels. Ivy found the next level to be the garage and witting there in the full beauty of fluorescent lighting was the black Suzuki G Strider Ammy had promised. He moved to the bike and let his gloved fingers glide over the armored curves of the bike, inspect every port and intake and the Lazarus Rifles she'd installed. Maybe he was becoming Batman. Ivy laughed, the sound echoed in the sparsely filled garage.

He moved back to the stairs and went down to the last level, the living quarters set up in the full circle footprint of the floor. Finer things were an understatement that woman had used. King sized bed with silk sheets of wine red. Several server racks and more display screens of varying sizes he'd never seen before all sat in darkness with blue, reds and yellow standby lights on like night eyes watching monsters. A living room set up in the center of the floor with the finest looking white leather couches he'd ever seen. A full section of wrap around bookshelves set into the earth burm walls filled with almost every book he lost in the bombing. A kitchen full functional for anyone to use with any cooking skill as well as small section blocked off with dark tinted glass that hid a roomy shower stall.

"The gods take me, I think I owe that woman way more than money and my soul now." His voice filled the room with a bit of warmth.

The server banks whirred to sudden life, like several purring panthers stuffed in metal boxes. A heavily Russian accented voice, female, spoke into the room. *Welcome home, Master Ivan Vel Yovin.*

Ivy looked to the server racks then to the monitors and he grinned more. "Villa. A voice I am glad to hear. We have much work to do."

*As you wish Master Yovin. I detect you have a hint lodged within your words. Who should I be seeking out?* Villa spoke again.

Ivy blinked and was surprised at the deductive logic of the new AI. "Dimitri Haliford."

A moment of silence then Villa spoke. *Denied. Error in data base. All know locations missing. Initiating back up protocols. Negative results with only one lead. Former location of J Wolf Mercenaries destroyed in the bombings of 2013. No new locations in any public records.*

Ivy cursed at this turn of bad luck. This left him with only one move to make in this game. "Locate Lonni Rouge. I'm suiting up."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the corner of Haggles Way and Fish road stood a woman bundled against the cold, though it seemed her attire was not meant for true warmth. A sheer silk top of white, a short skirt of light black cotton, and ivory white skin as spilled from the open black mink coat. Her hair was shining golden under the lamp light as pale silvery eyes looked out into the falling snow flakes turning the filthy streets of Rhydin virgin white.

The woman missed little of what was going on in the darkness just beyond the circle of lamp light. She could smell and hear her girls at work, bringing in the silver crowns to her cartels coffers, parting idiots from their wealth and perhaps their lives as well. What was a life worth in the hellish West End district? Was it worth a bullet? Perhaps the paltry price of 10 Silver for a quickie in the alley with a woman that was as cold as she was pale? Maybe a sizzling kiss on a dare backed by alcohol that made blood flow like water through their veins?

Lonni couldn't give a rat?s @ss to what a life was worth in this district. Man, woman or child all fell to her cold touch. Begged for the nirvana a single hit Lotus Kiss would provide, the soaring heights promised by Dragons Drool, the unearthly lusts and desires of uncut Brimstone being the proverbial genie in the bottle offering wishes but take care what you wish for. She had power, true power unlike the climbing, biting and ruthless cartel lords in their manses. She controlled desires, chemical, carnal and lusty on the streets. If you liked not the Brimstone wonders, the soft and yielding flesh would entice. A giggle of delight, or the warmth of someone to bed at night for a price.

She heard a man scream out in one short dispute of pain. Her lips, painted purple, spread in a thin, predatory smile. Scorn the Queen of the Streets and you will feel the many bites of her loyal subjects. She was paid, one way or the other and never lost a payment. Her attention though was taken from the grasp of her business mind as she felt a presence emerging from an alley behind her. She tasted the air between her fangs, let the scents settle on her tongue and she smiled once more. She loved repeat customers.

Lonni turned and spoke to the darkness. "Tired of skulking and watching the jewel you let slip from your hands, Ivan? Come to you Lonni. Kneel to your queen of desire and take cold warmth at my belly."

What greeted her sight was not the usual underdog of an undead vampire Ivan was portrayed as. The person before her was a bit unknown though the scent gave him away.

Dressed in the hallmark navy blue naval coat was Ivy, though you could not tell it was him. A mask was fastened in place, one that harkened memories back to the times when seeing a painted cross on anything resembling armor quickened the bowels of the infidels and fortified flagging hope in weary pilgrims and travelers. His mask was of an old knightly visor, black with a white crusader cross painted upon it. A dark hood was drawn up onto his head covering any visible skin. His hands gloved and armored in black vambraces housing the lethal weaponry within.

"I've don't believe anyone has sworn to a queen nor knelt to one in centuries. Why, should the trend start to honor someone long past the touch of warmth and the drum beat of the heart?" His voice was distorted, and very low from filtering through the breathing filters of the mask.

Lonni gave a playful little scowl and raised a snow white hand, ringed with rubies into the lamp light. Around the circle of light was heard the breath of men and women, a few children and other things best left to go bump in the night without light.

"You lack courtly manners for one who used to relish in the dead fact he was a knight so long ago. You should curb your tongue when speaking to your better. Kneel before me Ivan, for this Queen is loved by many, and by many they will see their Queens insults repaired."

Ivy glanced left then right and made no effort to kneel. "I see that not all of the power has gone to your swollen head, Highness. It is good to surround a noble with the chattel of their kingdom, but chattel doesn't last long before the scythe of the reaper comes to harvest." He said.

Lonni's cold, exquisite features twisted into the mask of ugly outrage. "You hurl insults at me? You stand before someone that can make you vanish on these streets as if you never existed. Kneel before I kill you." She said.

"Three." Ivy said.

Lonni blinked for a moment in utter shock. "What did you say?"

"I said 'Three', or are your ears as dead as your flesh? Three people have now said they will kill me. Where are the other two now?" Ivy said raising his hands to indicate the others that threatened his life were gone.

"Ivan, Ivan, Ivan... Petty threats are not your style. Yes, you've killed the useless Manisty, and done some of us a favor of removing Reginald, but my sweet, naive dear; you dabble with a power you don't understand. I rule these streets. I know every scrap of information there is to know. I could put officials out cold into the streets by dawn if I let slip the lists of whores they sleep with. The amounts of money laundering and book cooking that go on. I can tell you what the mayor ate for dinner and what she dropped in the toilet before breakfast. You are here because you cannot find Dimitri and he holds your precious dragon woman in waiting." She laughed cruelly.

"Oh Ivan, how you have fallen into the mire. The Ivan I once knew would be at my throat long before the first words from my lips. His fangs on my neck, his hands upon legs and the night long and young for pleasure. Now you stand before me, mired with a commitment to a young lady of the scales. You are in my court now, fallen knight. Pay homage to your Queen of the Streets or feel her ire and lose all you wish to gain this night."

Ivy was silent for a long moment, then his body dipped as he began to kneel. He turned the dipping into a sprinting crouch that let him clear the 30 feet between her and him. He only allowed her one small gasp of shock as he grabbed her throat and held one of the nanite blades of his saber to her skirts fabric between her legs. The waiting masses in the dark started to move forward, to rend and kill this person that touched their queen. Lonni held up a hand to stop them.

"Mmm. So you still love the rough play Ivan. Do you make her scream at night on your bed? This proves nothing, fallen knight. You've lost ground. Kill me, and you will never leave, your body strewn across the streets to show that the Queen has fallen but so has the infidel who struck her." She said around a tightening hand.

A soft sigh grated through the mask. "When was death ever mentioned by my hand? Do you know what silver does to the flesh of the undead?" He asked as that blade pressed the flimsy barrier the skirt made keeping the silver from her tender skin. "It chars the skin and flesh. Cracks it open like brittle charcoal. Sets things to ash but not in a quick manner that seals and kills the nerves. Oh no, it saves the nerves for last, making every touch, cut and whisper of silver upon the undead flesh an agony. You will tell me where Dimitri is and you will let me leave safely or your subjects will see their Queen of the Streets lose her property value very quickly."

Lonni actually held a brief look of horror in her silvery eyes, an intense burning was felt on the inner thighs as each second she delay meant a second more his blade would find more skin. "You would blindly leave a member of the enemy court within your territory?

"I said your death will not be by my hand. How long will you keep your subjects quiet about aiding the fallen knight Velps wants dead so badly? How long will you last with his methods of interrogation and penance? Start walking."

Ivy moved them past the light pole and into the milling masses of the addicted in the streets. They parted for their captive queen. Lonni wore a mask of grim defeat. He'd played her well. For not risking her death to kill him now, she'd ensured a slow death by Velps. She continued walking backwards until they had cleared the masses and was now in intersection of Potter Street and Hook Avenue.

"You win Ivan. You win. Dimitri has set up his wolves within the old military base 5 miles north of Rhydin City. I hear he's finding uses for your woman. You best hurry to them soon Ivan. The Attack Dog never leaves his toys intact."

Ivy let her go and removed the silver blade from between her legs. Red welts and blackened skin showed on her inner thighs. He moved to a black motorcycle parked in the snow drifts and mounted it.

"How long can you keep running Ivan? Even immortal undead run out of road in time. Will you pull down something so beautiful as this web of wealth and prosperity you have woven for us? She asked as she rubbed her blackened skin.

Ivy kick started the bike and gave her one long look, the mask a cold, dark menace to any not familiar with the Knights of the Crusade. "What I have woven is a net that pulls this city down into a drowning abyss. You all will drown with it as well once Velps is through with milking this realm. Run Lonni. Run, but know this, if Velps doesn't kill you, never sleep. I will be in the shadows, and your head will roll." He gunned the engine and the bike slid through the snow as he sped off.

Lonni watched him depart with a long, thoughtful look. She wasn't out of this little game he was playing. Fail to kill a Queen and she will turn her to the arsenal at hand. She moved back into the masses of her subjects, a wicked smile carved on purple lips. "Fetch me Hemlock."