The strike of spurs rang out in the dark silence of night as heavy boots found faded cobblestone. Puddles marred the avenue, a surplus from the midday rain that poured across the city. No other soul traveled that urban corridor, only him. Only the Reaper.

Up ahead Boreas could see the neon glow of the sign, illuminating the shadows with a halo of crimson light. Blood Red, a local vampire hot spot ran by The Legacy was where the Winds sometimes met, its clandestine corners and unpopular main stage attractive to those wanting to avoid watchful eyes and prying ears. It was a corner building, its door adjacent to the intersection, which made seeing who was coming and going from different vantage points another advantage. He took the three steps and yanked the door open, moving inside as it closed behind him.

A combination of smokes - some from cigarettes and cigars and some from the fog machine - wafted across the air and resulted in a haunting luminous threading through the haze of dimly lit candles. Tables were scattered about, and while not a single chair was occupied, a hot little number writhed upon the rickety stage in the center of the room. She twirled mindlessly around the brass pole that ran from ceiling to floor, topless to show off the endowments nature had blessed her with along with the multiple bite marks that marred her neck, shoulders, stomach and breast. She couldn?t have been more than twenty and yet her eyes held the pain and weight of four or five decades.

?Well I?ll be god damned!? Came a familiar voice from behind the bar. ?Must be my lucky day.?

?Soby.? Boreas greeted the man as he approached, giving only one more small glance toward the vixen gracing the stage. ?How?ve you been??

At one point in time Soby had been the poster-child for badass bikers everywhere, but that was many years ago, close to forty. While the tattoos covering each arm, his neck, and most of his chest, were intimidating, the most menacing characteristic of the man was his eyes. There was only one color, black, and it was flat and deep, darker than the leather of his chaps, his vest, and his soul. They were terrifying to behold, especially when narrowed. ?Not too shabby. Can?t complain any more than normal.?

?How about Linnet??

?She?s still puttin? up with my ass.?

?And the kids??

?Stayin? out o?trouble.?

Boreas smirked as he pulled a half-crushed pack of smokes from his deep trench coat pocket, plucking one out with his teeth. ?So they aren?t yours then??

Soby barked out a laugh as he pushed a rag inside a dirty beer mug. ?That?s pretty good.?

The fire from Boreas? lighter cast a dancing ember glow across the hard lines of his grim visage, making him briefly appear more demonic than mortal. ?I thought so.? He said between puffs that filled the air with acerbic exhales.

?The others are down stairs already. East and the Kid.?

?What about the South and West??

?Ain?t seen the ladies yet today, which is a shame. I like the way the blonde shakes her ass.?

?Careful.? Boreas said as he snapped the zippo shut and dropped it back into his pocket. ?She?ll rip your heart out.? The condemning look quickly faded as he turned and started for the door marked BASEMENT, those nasty spurs breaking through the heavymetal melody, sounding with each step.

He pushed through the door and started down the steps, leaving Soby, the girl, the strobe lights and the loud music behind. At the bottom of the stairs the complex opened up into a series of conference rooms and auditoriums. Kind of a strange sublevel for a strip club, but it was the primary reason the place was so popular. Darker sorts could conduct legitimate business between being letches and perverts. How accommodating.

?Boreas,? It was Jaisan, standing in a doorway, waving the brooding reaper toward him. ?Come here, man. You gotta see this.?

Boreas? stride didn?t quicken or fade, remaining measured in his approach. As always, he gave no hint to concern or eagerness. Eternally even keel. As he stepped through the door he saw Jaisan standing twenty or so feet from Eurus, a heavy pistol in his left hand. The room was their normally reserved chamber, and while they never left any data or Intel lying around, it was certainly nice to have familiar surroundings. ?What?s going on?? He asked before claiming a long drag of the cigarette.

?This is crazy, watch this.? Jaisan was excited, and as he turned to face Eurus he swung his head to free his eyes from platinum blonde bangs. His arm lifted until the barrel was level with the East Wing, Eurus Vulturnus.

Eurus looked as cool as Ice, in fact he even seemed a little bored. As always, the Italian assassino was impeccably dressed in a dark suit tailored to his trim physique, complete with fitted leather gloves.

Boreas watched from just inside the doorway.

BOOM!

The compression of the trigger fired the bullet with a thunderous burst, rocketing the chamber back to eject the empty shell. With the close distance, Eurus? reaction was nearly simultaneous, jerking around in a complete one-eighty.

The room fell silent, motionless.

Slowly Eurus wheeled back to face them on the heel of his expensive Italian shoe, uncompromised by the gun shot. He extended his hand and, one by one, peeled away the fingers until his open palm was exposed.

And there was the bullet.

?Oh shit!? Jaisan roared inside a laugh. ?That is crazy! I mean, at this distance that?s got to be impossible and he?s done it five times!?

?Sei.? Eurus corrected. ?Six times.?

?Right, yea, six! But then, check this out!? Jaisan shifted his eyes from Eurus to Boreas and back again. ?Do the second part.?

?Questo ? stupido.? Eurus murmured.

?Come on, man! Do it! Just one more time!?

Luckily for Jaisan Eurus was the consummate performer and considered such a demonstration just that; a performance. He sighed and shook his head before turning with a deft pivot that spun his gracefully masculine body in a series of pirouettes that, at the crescendo of the agile spin, concluded with the outward lash of his hand, whipping it across the air.

Boreas eyes were keen enough to see the item launch and followed its blurring trajectory to a picture across the room. The piece was a replica of Henry VIII, and encircling his head were six holes, five of which were in a perfect ring around the parameter of his face with a final one directly between the eyes.

?That is?.crazycool!? Jaisan was fist pumping now.

Boreas shook his head, sweeping his thick black hair across his shoulders as he made his way to a chair. He sat; the cigarette cradled inside the fore and middle finger of his right hand, and looked between the two men. ?Where are Zeph and Eerie??

?Not sure.? Jaisan answered as he moved to sit on the edge of the table, unable to keep from looking back over his shoulder to the picture and the holes that lined the face. ?But seriously, that is some cool shit.?

?I figured they would be here, but I guess it really doesn?t matter. They aren?t the ones who need to be here.? He took a drag and let the ashen smoke pour from flaring nostrils, billowing up to enshroud his head in a hood of grey. It did nothing to deter the hard stare he had for the young Technomancer.

?Me?? Jaisan stuck a thumb in his chest to accentuate his query.

?Absolutely. Now that the watch has stopped snoopin? around and looking for the Golem, we can get to work reprograming her. The Boss wants her operational quick, and that means you have to get a move on.?

?JhaiNein??

Boreas nodded. ?You got it. The Legacy wants her fully functional and you?ve got ten days to do it.?

?Ten days?? Jaisan balked. ?But I don?t even know what I?m dealing with. I mean, what does she even do??

?E 'semplice, fratello.? Eurus interjected as he rounded the table to take a seat across from the North Wind, keeping both he and Jaisan in view. ?She can see where other eyes can?t.?

?She has X-Ray vision? Thermal? Lowlight? Night??

?Not quite.? Boreas said. ?Magical.?

?Magical? I don?t see why that?s so special. There are tons of different magical viewing spells.?

Boreas took a long pull from the cig, nearly burning it completely down to the butt. ?Right, but none of them work in WestEnd. JhaiNein, because she?s a mixture of magic and tech, can locate and target things inside the chaos of WestEnd. While everyone else is running around blind, she can see through the blanket of bedlam that screws up that sort of detection. And if she can see, then we can see. ?

?Whoa.? Jaisan said with a low whistle. ?That?s heavy.?
Boreas nodded.

?And what are the plans for her?? Eurus tilted his head, focus completely on Boreas. ?Is she still up for sale??

?Not sure.? He lied through a billow of smoke. ?The boss hasn?t let me in on the next step.? Actually, the last time he spoke with his employer The Legacy said that he wasn?t going to execute the exchange with the Cambions, deciding to keep JhaiNein for himself. Boreas wasn?t sure how available he wanted this information to be and thought it best to just keep quiet. ?All I know is that she needs to be programmed and the box needs to be stripped and rebuilt in ten days, no exceptions.?

?Well then, I guess I?m outta here.? There was a touch of disappointment in Jaisan?s voice as he pushed off the table, not ready to get back to work. He liked Boreas, and though he didn?t know Eurus well (after all, who did?) he liked him too.

?Same here kid.? Boreas said as he dropped the cigarette to the floor and crushed it beneath his boot as he stood. ?I?ve got to swing by the Red Dragon and ?see about something.?

?A quest'ora?? Eurus inquired. ?Nightcap??

?Yea, something like that.? Actually, it had nothing to do with a drink. He?d been caught up with his job for a few weeks and hadn?t made time to see Tasha. He couldn?t take it anymore. His fingertips felt dead and his lips dull. He needed to see her. To touch her. To taste her.

He was done putting it off.

She'd left Jaisan to his task with JhaiNein. Her own business drawing her to the Kokuri Compound. The Legacy no longer wished to part with JhaiNein but he also didn?t believe in reneging on a deal. A new deal had been struck and upon concluding her meeting with Jagger Kokuri, Eerie made her way down the streets of Old Temple District.

There was something rather claustrophobic about the winding streets of this area of Rhy?Din. The loom of buildings held court in the sky and pushed in on travelers, almost seeming to come together in a canopy of lopsided architecture with the wrong blink of an eye. Abandoned churches of all shapes and sizes were adorned with sculpted arches, flaring buttresses, carved gargoyles and saints. Cracked and faded statues held testament to the fleeting possession of faiths forgotten while others were gilded in the richness of their success.

Not built for cars, the cobblestoned streets were rutted and bumpy. The streets quiet and occupied only by those who truly had no better place to be. No vendors set up along the way, as the Marketplace promised far better opportunities and was only a bridge away. Though a few beggars and con artists plied their trade, selling wares from their person as they were passed.

It took only the lingering weight of her enigmatic sable gaze to divert most from daring to speak with her. The few random souls brave enough to accost her soon found them wishing they?d been less oblivious to the reaction of their compatriots.

No life bore taking that evening and she arrived upon the stone steps of the Cleaner?s without blood upon her hands. His place was a ramshackle affair, held together by sheer talent of the original mason; the building had seen no repairs or remodeling in ages. Once an abbey, the huge steel ring that served as both a door knocker and handle was slung through the nose of what could only be described as a devil. The large curving horns spiraled upward from its head, the piercing edge upon them having never dulled despite the passage of time.

Eerie did not hesitate, nor did she bother to knock. She simply wrapped the death-dealing hands about the ring and pulled. Some said, only those who had taken life could lift the ring, Eerie didn?t know of the truth to such a claim as few who came to this part of the Temple District were lily-white handed. It certainly wouldn?t have stopped its current occupant, though he now eschewed the taking of life.

As the creaking heavy doors, twice the size of her, were pulled apart, the rush of dank air spilled out into the night. Revealing no sign of her displeasure, the South Wind entered the domain of the Cleaner, well aware of the hunt that was about to take place.

It took her nearly twenty minutes to find the former serial rapist. Huddled beneath a stack of newspapers that announced the construction of a new Inn to be named the Red Dragon, the stringy length of the broken man unfolded at her approach. ?Ahh?Austeria.? His voice was cracked from lack of use.

?Felisardo.? She inclined her head and withstood the hungry glint of his eyes as he molested her with his sight. Desire was evident. Lust a dark bitch that rode him. He groaned as he ripped his gaze from her, hands fisting at his side as control was sought.

His reaction stirred them, the spirits that haunted him forevermore. The wind whispered about her as she felt their anguished presence. The hair on the nape of her neck rising as her skin shivered against the onslaught of cold. The appearance of her own breath upon the air spoke to the icy temperature that suddenly reined.

His tortured eyes remained clenched against sights only he was subject to as he fell to his knees there in the abandoned abbey coated in dust, the broken jagged and once glorious windows allowing moonlight to bless them both in the tableaux of his despair.

Eerie stood firm as she knew the spirits of his victims would not harm her. Their wrath remained upon this dejected and destroyed remnant of a man. She wondered not for the first time if he would ever find the courage to end his miserable existence, trapped in a realm that allowed the murdered and violated women to take their continual vengeance upon his sanity.

Death would be too good for him. She watched as he sobbed and begged and pleaded. Merciless and unmoved during his agony. Finally, he was able to regain some semblance of control, pushing his rickety body to a seated position, though he still hunched away from her as if she were the author of his horrid fate.

?What?s the job?? He moaned, wrapping his stick thin arms about his rotted frame as he rocked back and forth in terror.

?Forked Silver. No bodies are to remain claimable.? She delivered the parameters of the assignment, dropping the small pouch on the ground next to her stately heel. ?Your payment.? Though they both knew that it was not the money that drew him, even as he needed it to survive, but the chance to get his hands upon death again. To feel a bloody body against his trembling addict?s hands.

Disgusted, Eerie turned on a heel and moved through the abandoned House of a Fallen God, stepping over broken remnants as she left the necrophiliac behind.

As expected, the order came and the non-Cambions were quickly ushered out. The lockdown procedure had been explained to the Winds in detail by the lone Cambion sycophant they had managed to procure, and the process he described was executed to perfection. Windows were covered in sheets of steel that descended from slides above, and as the last mortal was ejected, the door slammed closed and a series of heavy bolts and locked sealed it shut.

They considered it a sanctuary.

Eurus considered it their tomb.

From the rafters he descended with the current of the wind as his guide, a corkscrew spin adding to his downward drift toward the main floor. Infernal adherents of all sorts were busy doing their part to secure the Forked Silver Club, oblivious to his weightless fall and the dancer's grace that aided him. With only ten feet to go he opened fire, the machine pistol in each hand showering the room in hot death, leaving little time to respond. Screams were muffled by the sequent drum of the guns, their explosive tips tearing through scaled flesh and ripping apart innards.

Feet found the floor as did empty clips, their open slots quickly filled with fresh ammo. The bar was to the left of him, running nearly the length of the wall and offering adequate cover to the half-dozen gunmen who hid behind it. One door was located on the far wall and three more were on the other side of the room, all filled with enemies.

As they raised up with rifles and machine guns in hand Eurus kicked the table in front of him on to its side and ducked beneath. The thick steel facade of the turned over furnishing proved resilient in the protection it offered; dented into a myriad of nipples yet allowing no bullet through. The table faced the bar, which exposed him to the three doors along the right wall, though every time one opened it was answered with a blaze of his weapon that easily shredded wood and metal.

Another violent volley peppered the table like thunderous raindrops on a tin roof, sound erupting all around him. He dared not peek above, blindly lifting the pistols in the direction of the bar and pulling the triggers. He couldn't see what happened but he did hear the wet scream of death claim one or two of them.

Again he wheeled back to the center door on the right wall where one slender, four-armed half-demon emerged, and greeted him with a half-dozen new holes in his chest. The force of the impact drove him backwards into the wall adjacent to the entry, crumpling the creature to the floor.

The table wouldn't stand much more. It was time to act.

The extension of coiled legs sent him high into the air, easily clearing the table as he leapt toward the bar. Two unfortunate adversaries aspired just after his lunge and had no idea he was in the air, their aim cast down the length of their weapons for the table their attacker was previously hiding behind. The flick of a thumb shifted pistols into a semi-automatic mode and each of the approaching enemies was gifted with a single bullet between the ear and eye.

Quick steps carried him toward the bar and another leap sent him high into the air again, legs bent and knees brought to his chest, flipping completely over the counter and landing with a twist to face the room and the backs of those who stooped behind. Not all were facing away from him - some were sitting down and reloading their weapons. There were eight there now - some must have joined in through the door at the end of the bar.

Before a single scream could alert any to his sudden appearance the guns rang out again, administering the heavy impact of bullets into chests and heads. Directly in front of him a towering, thickly built demon tried to spin around with a shotgun in hand, but was met by the whip of Eurus' pistol butt against his temple. The fiend recoiled and fell across the bar dazed, his gun loosely held thanks to the hook of his finger against the trigger. Eurus had already moved on, seizing the moment to rain death down upon those who opposed him. As bodies fell, realization infected a few of the remaining enemies and they dropped their weapons , seeking to flee. His bullets filled lungs and severed spines as their parting gift.
The magnificent fiend sprawled across the bar started to stir and rise, and was again met with the butt-end of Eurus' pistol, dropping him once more.

The doors across the room opened, those who filled them watching as the dark man in the perfectly tailored suit slaughtered their brethren, wary as to actually stick their heads out and expose themselves even if meant getting a drop on him. One ambitious assailant leaned out to point his pistol in the direction of the killer and yet, had he known that Eurus' gift was impeccable precision, immaculate aim, he may have reconsidered.
Eurus calmly walked along the length of the bar - an exposed target to those who watched him from across the room - eying only the one who revealed himself. With the whip of his arm from side to side Eurus pulled the trigger once, the movement smooth and in time with his stride, proving that he could hit any target. With a new hole decorating the space between his brow that ambitious henchman jerked backwards and sprawled out on the floor with a loud thump.

Eurus stepped through the break in the bar and crossed the room, guided by incredible alertness as empty clips were once again expelled and replaced with full ones. The sound of pump-action from behind caught his attention and slowly he turned a look over his shoulder to see the massive fiend behind the bar, still wielding his shotgun and ignoring the trickling lines of blood that poured from just above his ear.

"Should have killed me when you had the chance!" He barked, setting the shoulder-stock in place to look down the length of the barrel.

"Who's to say I still don't have that chance, fratello?" The East Wind whispered.

Before the creature could answer triggers were depressed and guns were fired, and while Eurus faced away from his target those bullets curled backwards and angled toward their destination, defying all laws of physics and explanation. Needless to say, the stout gunman had no idea what was happening, not even when they split both of his eyes and detonated the back half of his head.

It was amazing what focused currents of wind could do.

Those harbored inside the rooms that lined the wall were dealt with swiftly, their surrendering pleas met with the same response as those who openly opposed him.

Quick death.

The embers of the cigarette flared to life with the lengthy pull, an inhale that filled a wide chest, illuminating his features. Dark eyes, high cheeks, square chin, black hair. It always looked like Boreas was cut from midnight; torn from the twilight sky and bathed clean of starlight. As the tawny glow of the cig faded, so too did the details of his visage.

Felisardo sat across the room on the floor, legs cross indian-style, with an assortment of paraphernalia littering the floor around him. The gaunt man was shuddering with a combination of fear and anxiety, which made his skeletal features seem even more sickly and thin. With a band knotted tightly around his bicep he slapped at the veins trailing along the eye of his elbow, bringing them to life. He fumbled with a syringe, turning it over a few times in his shaky grasp, before jabbing it into the swollen line. The plunger became shorter and shorter, the barrel growing empty; until all of the amber colored liquid that had filled it was gone. He fell back against the couch, awkward and uncomfortable, and breathed out a sigh of relief.

?Any better?? Boreas asked, a final drag ending his dedication to the vice. He crushed the fire away against the kitchen table, breaking apart the orange glow, and slowly lifted his solid frame from the small chair he occupied. ?Now, tell me what happened.?

The slim features of the Cleaner became ever-present as his head lolled toward the massive North Wind, a ridiculous smile spreading blood soaked lips to reveal gaping holes where teeth had once been. ?It was?crazy.?

The menacing chime of heavy spurs filled the room as Boreas made his way, not stopping until he was towering over the prone form. He looked around, a cursory glance at the rather plain motel room they were in. ?Look, Felisardo, I like you. I don?t have any beef with you at all.? He paused as his eyes came back so the man could identify that earnest of his following statement. ?But if you don?t start flapping your d*cksucker about what went down, I?m gonna rip your f*cking head off.?

It worked. That chemically-induced euphoria sharply subsided thanks to the demons Felisardo saw floating in that black glower. He sat a bit straighter, and started to organize his junkie accessories, as though that would somehow make what he had to say seem more legit. ?Alright, Bor, alright.?
He gathered his thoughts, categorizing the events that went down so that he

could relay them accurately. When everything was in order, he began?


__________________________________________________ ____


I?d never seen anything like it. The whole club was covered in bodies. It wasn?t even a club. It was just a giant morgue with neon lights and alcohol. Every step I took I was either stepping on a body port or a shell case. It was a war zone, man. It was terrible.

Zeph?s there and I try to get the lowdown, but that stuck-up bitch only tells me that the big bad is in the back and not to touch her. I wanted to, Boreas. I really wanted to. She?s right in my wheelhouse. Young. Rich. I bet the meadow between those legs is ripe for harvest, ya know?

Anyway, so I make my way into the back and there I see what she was talking about. This guy, covered in scaly skin that is as white as chalk, is filled with holes. He?s the one that I need to clean up, but as I make my way to him I see this blonde piece of ass sprawled in the corner. She?s dead as a doorknob and dressed like a stripper, so naturally I?m intrigued. The ghosts ? my ghosts ? they all start going apeshit over the thought of me doing anything to that girl, cause they know me. Well, I can?t take all the screaming and crying, all the names they are calling me, and I know the only way to get them to shut the f*ck up is go over and start banging that corpse, so I do.

I?m really tearing her up. I wanted to do it doggie style, but her knees had already started rigor mortis and when I tried to bend them they just snapped and wouldn?t hold any weight, so instead I just had to go with Mother Teresa?s traditional missionary. So I?m slammin? away, which scares off all them bitches that keep terrorizing me, when out of nowhere the f*cker with all the bullet holes starts to move around. There ain?t no way his ass should have been moving, he had an entire clip emptied into him, and yet there he was, stirring like he was waking up from a nap.

So I instantly start thinking about my lover and look down to make sure she isn?t coming back to life. You know me, Boreas. I don?t do the living anymore. Not since the ghosts started coming around. It doesn?t really matter cause I?m not ready to take a chance with this dame, so I pull out and start doing up my clothes. I don?t need any more voices condemning me, you know?

So the big bad isn?t fully up yet, just rocking back and forth, like he?s trying to gather the strength to actually stand up. I have a piece in the car, a real nasty one ? you?d like it ? and decide to go and get it, but as soon as I step back into the main room of the club I see that all those bodies, all those dead bodies, are starting to come back. Some of them are already up and spot me. I try to make a run for it but they are on me too quick. Preternatural speed, it had to be.

So they put me on the ground and beat on me for a while, taking their turns knocking the sh!t out of me, waiting until their boss wakes up. Finally he does and takes a couple of swings, that?s how I lost the four on my bottom row.

Luckily, they decided not to kill me. They drug me out back and knocked me out. I woke up in the dumpster this morning and then came here.


Boreas? eyes narrowed. ?Why didn?t they kill you??

The question caught the Cleaner off guard and he slowly looked up. ?I?I don?t know.?



__________________________________________________ _____


The snap kick shattered the door, detonating a shower of shrapnel and splinters into the room on the other side, and the Cambion entered. With a katana in his right hand and a machine pistol in his left, he scoured the interior with dangerous, snake-slit eyes. He?d watched the skinny man come here, to this very room, and was now seeking to carry out the second part of Jankar?s plan: find the ones who did this and kill them.

A leap took him from the door to the bed, with a downward plunge spearing the center of the mattress with the sword, burying it clean to the hilt. Out it came only to be reinserted with the same stabbing motion four more times. If any were hiding beneath it, they were surely impaled. Once convinced, he rose and stepped off of it, the gun sweeping around to unleash a blazing stream into the only two doors in the room; the closet and the bathroom. He wasn?t stingy with his clip, emptying it between the two.

Still, he needed to check. The closet door was in shambles and a slash of the katana cut away what blocked his view. Empty, save for a half-dozen demolished hangers and an ironing board. Next was the bathroom. This door held up a bit better, made of stronger wood, and while still nowhere near sturdy enough to prevent his deadly barrage from tearing apart anyone inside, he wouldn?t be able to simply cut it away. With a new tactic in mind, he sheathed the katana as he approached and with his newly free hand took hold of the knob. In one smooth motion he yanked it open and stepped in, gun leveled and ready to be unleashed.

Boreas had expected this.

As the door came open he surged forward. With one hand he knocked the pistol to the side, unconcerned with the spray of bullets that lacerated the tiled wall, and with the other he planted the barrel of his shotgun against the chest of the Cambion and pulled the trigger.

Felisardo was right: Preternatural speed.

Before Boreas could fire the Cambion pushed the barrel away, causing it to instead blow the remainder of the door off its hinges. Coming forward, the Cambion dipped its shoulder and crammed it into the midsection of the large human, lifting him from the ground and running him backwards into the far wall.

Boreas dropped the shotgun as he was lifted off his feet and curled his thick arm around the Cambion?s neck, barely able to wedge it completely between the two. Slammed into the sturdy wall with a vicious thud, his spine was jarred and his legs went numb. Still, he didn?t let up, and locked his wrist with his free hand, clenching the throat of the Cambion with his forearm and bicep.

The Cambion tried to bring the gun up and around for a blind shot, but Boreas torqued the clench of his arm, causing the Cambion?s body to go crooked and instead shoot more holes in the wall. He drew back and again lifted the large human a few inches off his feet to once more slam him into the wall.

It was agony, but still Boreas held on, snarling through the mass of black hair that was now veiling his features. He released the lock he had on his wrist to free up an arm and used it to drive a series of savage elbows into the spine of the Cambion, pummeling the creature between the shoulder-blades.

Growling, the Cambion tried to lift Boreas again, though the devastating elbows that hammered into its back combined with a severe lack of oxygen were sapping not only the strength from its arms but from its legs as well, and after an even dozen of the overwhelming attacks, it was soon sinking to its knees. In a last ditch effort it again swung the gun around, but this time Boreas met it with a heavy boot that knocked it away.

He released the Cambion, but before it could full fall to the floor he took it by the jaw and raised its head for a clean shot. The right cross shattered the left side of its face, spinning the Cambion around to collide with the side of the bathtub with a sickening crunch. Boreas didn?t hesitate. He stepped over the fallen Cambion and planted his foot squarely in its back. Reaching down, he took it by the head with both hands.

He sucked in a breath, focused his weight high onto the torso of the creature, and then with everything that he could muster tore upward and away.

It truly is a disgusting sight to see a head ripped off a body, and nowhere near as clean as one would expect. Flesh doesn?t tear in straight lines, and the vertebra is just nasty to behold. Headless, the body of the Cambion collapsed to the floor, twitching periodically.
Slowly the Cleaner?s gaze emerged over the edge of the tub, just scant inches from where a smear of blood left by the Cambion?s face marred the porcelain. He looked from it to Boreas.

?Get your shit.? Boreas snarled, holding the severed head by the hair like a handbag. ?We?ve got to get.?

I awakened.

The immediate influx of data revealed my location to not be familiar. The laboratory reminded me of the Chrysalis Corporation and for the tenths of a second it took for my memory recall to reboot I thought perhaps I had been returned to my Creators.

Had I killed Fiora?

The odd constriction of muscles in my abdomen was accompanied by a rush of unfamiliar sensations firing up my nerve endings and culminating in a sharp sting of pressure and swelling in the ducts of my eyes.

The analysis of such a reaction would have to come at a slower set of processing as more acute needs bore addressing. My memory had rebooted and with it the realization that I had not killed Fiora but had instead been stolen. This, too, would wait for later computations as I recognized imminent threat by the sounds of an aborted life in my nearby vicinity.

Flight and pursuit were engaged above me and one prey had succumbed to the extinguishing of life.

The objects of my awareness were even now approaching.

A decision was arrived at.



When the door slid open to admit the frantic Jaisan, the figure that had adorned his laboratory table for the last couple of months was gone. Of course, he had other things to concern himself with at the moment.