Knife in the Back//The Wren//Open for apps! PM to Tundra

[Verdana]

//Bree//

There was something wrong with Malberry. His alter-ego was too solid. He was too comfortable in it. Bree knew good acting when she saw it. This went far deeper than any act could. Bree knew how it felt to become so immersed in a persona that one could not conceive a life outside of it. This went slightly deeper than that, too. A look of horror flicked into her eyes.

She hoped that she could find a way to reverse whatever had gone wrong. She didn't want Kieron Taylor with her. She needed an assassin.

As much as she loathed admitting it, she needed Marcus Malberry.

Before she could go about trying to put his identity back, though, something else went wrong. Malberry stopped, convulsed, and was sick.
Now, Bree could withstand many things. She didn't bat an eyelid at blood, gore or human organs. She didn't mind the stench of raw sewerage or burning human flesh. She could watch torture without a qualm, and kill babies.
She was, however, a terrible sympathy-puker.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, taking deep breaths.
Will not do it,[/b] she thought.
[i]Just count. Just breathe...
Slowly, the feeling subsided, as long as she breathed through her mouth. She glared at Malberry, more furious that he'd put her in a weak position than concerned. He looked repulsive, but otherwise seemed none the worse for his little attack.

He yelled in fury, and she stepped forward. It was time to play along. She needed Malberry's mind, even if it was disguised under Taylor's, and that would have to mean demeaning herself.
I'm a friend of yours, she told him, with a bashful smile.
Well, maybe not a friend, but we're acquaintances. We've been going out for coffee for a couple of weeks. My name's Megan. Do you remember me? We met in Geneva. Do you remember? It's okay if you don't, only... I'd quite like to have a friend right now.

Bree hoped that a mention of their job in Geneva would snap Malberry out of his funk. If that didn't work, she would have had to try harsher methods.

//Shay//

Typical Vlad. So, so typical of him. Shay was in a crisis, and he decided that he wanted to dance. He gave Shay very little room to refuse, too. He took her up (she tried not to glance to Kuar, but she was worried about what he was thinking. Their own reunion was so recent and unexpected, so how was he going to take the sudden reappearance of a man she had claimed to despise for a great part of their acquaintance), moved to a clear spot, and the two of them began to dance.

At first, Shaygrin resisted. She needed to be the boss for her assassins, and dancing certainly wasn't in her job description. However it was all too easy to fall into old, familiar patterns.
That's not why you're here, though, Shay said bitterly. Although her body seemed to be complying, her mouth was not.
You've never taken any interest in Ty's rearing before. Why would you suddenly start now? Do me the favour of being honest. I'm no fool, Vladimir, and you know that.
Even her mouth wished to betray her by falling into their usual language of communication, but Shay held out. They would speak under her terms, or they would not speak at all. English it was, and English it would stay.

I remember, Shay answered, and while her voice was unyielding, her soul was not. It was difficult to recall that era of her past without a great deal of nostalgia. Ah, things had been simpler then. Everything had seemed so very clear. It was too good to last, and Shay had known that, even then. Perhaps that had been her downfall.

Her eyes did not soften. They couldn't. Not then. In a level, rational voice, she said,
You left a hole in my soul, Vladimir.
As if it had been he who had left.
She pulled away, a look of composure, of reserve, entering her face.
I can't do this right now, she told him levelly.
[b]I have created a life, and I must maintain that. Come with me, if you wish, but you are intruding on my life, and you will damn well do it on my terms.

And without further ado, she ushered her remaining assassins onto the apparently-safe bus, and they rattled off just as the first sirens began to ring.

//In a new country, outside a dingy little building on the side of a busy road//

Shaygrin checked her watch anxiously. They were running late. There were definite benefits to breaking up teams during travel, but one of the detriments was waiting for said team to become whole again. While only one minute had slipped past the allocated time, and that could have been Shay's watch being maladjusted, Shay was in no mood to be lenient.
She had not slept for a moment on the long flight, and was consumed by panic about her missing daughter. Not that she showed it, of course. She had changed into a neat, efficient outfit, had a bath, done her hair and makeup, and looked like a lost newcomer who had no idea the danger she was in.

Cars whizzed past her, with seemingly little regard for anything resembling a road rule. Horns honked, clouds of dust were thrown up by tyres as passengers were released to enter the buildings on either side of hers (and it was hers, at least temporarily, for she held the deeds loosely in one hand). Men eyed her up and down. Not a few hands went for her pockets, but Shay was crafty, and every belonging taken was soon returned. The sky overhead was hazy with pollution. The smell of a harbour filtered subtly through the fug. The air was alive with strident voices and all sorts of exotic and remarkable languages.

Cape Town in the Autumn was a vibrant, beautiful place. It was also the Wren's new home.

Shaygrin looked up at the building behind her. A dusty sign above the door read, "Cape Town Post Office".

'Home'. She tried out the word on her lips.

It didn't quite fit then, but it would.

Her assassins would soon arrive, and the rebuilding would begin.

[Tundra]

Kuars claws lightly tapped the side of the bed he was laying in. Not that he had actually slept, that wasn't something he could do lately. Yes he could fall asleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes the dreams wracked his mind shocking him awake. The dreams he was having were so vivid, the blood spatter, the smell of death. He hadn't fully told what happened when he finally killed Demion, it had not been so simple as just killing the man. So many died in the process, not to mention broke a lot of the codes Kuar had for himself. He had things he would just not do, but, he had lost himself, let his feral side have full control. He regretted none of it though, some things just had to be.

Flicking his tail he thought back to the last few days. Back at the bus Kuar had insisted Shay not part on her own, having one of the members go with her, but she would have nothing of it. Then again it was typical of her, not to mention with Vlad there, things were not as simple as they could have been. So in the end, Kuar part his own way from the group to throw some who were following him specifically. It was only natural for Malacia to lock onto the one who had theoretically basically back handed her and laughed about it. In the night, those who had followed him met their end to a sniper shot. Well more fell from where they were hiding to their death. Kuar only shot them either in the shoulder or leg. He had no intention of actually killing them, they were only doing what they were being told after all. But events played together that lead to massive hemorrhaging and eventually death of each of those shot. Kuar did make sure the bodies were burned, and disposed of. He couldn't have the chances of someone following the body trail.

Looking over at the clock he noticed the time. Not that he was worried, he could easily get there. And in a fashion Shay had taught him, but it was tiring. But in the end it would be better then walking there, which would tire himself more. Standing away from the bed he gathered his things, cleaning the room to make it as though no one had ever been there. Leaving a cash payment on the nightstand he focused his mind. Within a few seconds what felt like being squished into a tine hole and spat back out, Kuar managed to flit near location. He leaned on a wall of a nearby building to catch his breath, within the last few weeks was the most he had used flitting as a means of travel in awhile. He was out of practice, so, it was harder, and took more energy to keep himself together.

Adjusting his cloak, more fixing it since somehow it had managed to wrap around one of his legs. He finally made his way over to what seemed to be a post office. He looked at the sign curiously, but looks were deceiving. The place would end up as a nice hideout filled with moving weapons. Kuar spotted Shay looking as though nothing was wrong, but he could see it. She held herself different, she was tired, her eyes were groggy, but all was barely visible. Walking casually over, he was the first here, but then again it was probably for the better. He would have some time to talk with Shay, catch up on what was going on.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were lost." he smiled slightly, the tips of his fangs showing. In all truth he was a sore thumb in the crowd, but he hid himself so well, none had noticed it yet. Even if they had, none actually pursued it due to some real freaks of nature being out there. Or so they thought, they had no real idea. Kuar was tired himself, but he hid it just as well as Shay. The target on his back only made it worse for him, catching any ounce of sleep that is. And then there was the deal with Bree, he knew she was still alive. She was just as resilient as her mother, if not more. So there he stood waiting for others to show, or Shay to answer, either or was probably going to happen.

--
Ill post something for TF after more posts have happened.

[~Erica~]

(I'd like to jump back in but I can't seem to wok up the muse to do so with my old characters so I think I may just make a new one to start over with and say the other two died. That okay?)

[Tordier]

(( Sorry for the wait, guys. It's the end of school for me and it's getting really busy. I'm trying to finish up assignments, take my finals, and such. It will be over on the 2nd of June. Until then I'm afraid I'll be a bit slow. ))

Banshee
Kinta McGregor
Kinta had hardly been able to believe her luck when she was allowed to keep the prisoner with her for the entirety of the trip. It would have been so easy to simply claim that she had been pursued, attacked, and unable to save that prisoner's life in the chaos. Oh, how she had wanted to kill. At the time it seemed that it would be easy, but that was not the case after all. To her great disappointment, the prisoner was far less of a dead weight than she had anticipated. 'The Prisoner'. By now Kinta had learned her name, of course. She had also nearly instantly forgotten it. What's-her-face would remain forever 'the prisoner', in the young assassin's mind.
They were nearly at the rendezvous point, and Kinta traveled under the guise of two close sisters, innocently strolling along. It worked well enough. All she had to do was dye her hair the same color as the prisoner's, a deep red sort of color that she rather liked, and after that, they looked surprisingly similar.
Banshee walked very close behind her 'sibling', pressing the tip of a gun, concealed in her sleeve, into the prisoner's back. They were placed close enough that the gesture was easily hidden. It looked oddly natural, the pair of them walking through the crowd. Kinta could be a good actress, when she wanted to. She laughed and chatted gleefully about nothing, even though, on the inside, she was seething.
The wounds from the previous attempt at murder were still painful, but what hurt the most was her injured pride at being forced to give up the fight before their cover was completely blown. Now, not only was she still longing for some blood-spill, but it had gotten personal as well.
Physically, Kinta had a collection of scrapes and bruises, but the worst by far was a broken collarbone. Well, she was no expert at that sort of thing, but she was pretty sure that was what had happened. A simple wrap was all she had done for it, figuring there would be plenty of time for medical attention at headquarters. However, her clothes hid the injuries well and she looked perfectly healthy to the casual observer, which was exactly what she wanted.
A familiar face drew the Banshee from her brooding. Finally, they had found the place. It seemed that Kuar had already met up with Shay. It would probably be too much of a crowd if she directly interacted with either of them, so she aimed to hover nearby for awhile.
"Hey, Sis!", she chirped brightly to the prisoner. "Look at that. It's beautiful!"
Kinta gushed shamelessly at something or other in a store window a few yards from Shay and Kuar, which she indicated by pointing at it with great enthusiasm.
"Let's check it out."
Without giving the prisoner a chance to respond, she made her way towards the window, pushing the prisoner along before her like an eager child trying to hurry their parent along and stared through it without caring the slightest bit about what she was seeing. All she wanted was to get some privacy and work out some form of revenge on the prisoner for making such a fool of her before.



The Rogue
Cass
The blurr was nowhere to be seen, and that was to be expected. He had been around long enough for Shay to know that he could not afford to wander about in broad daylight. The mist that surrounded his bare flesh was too difficult to hide in nearly any circumstance. Instead, it was guaranteed that he was lurking nearby and safely out of sight. That was, of course, the case. At the moment he was in the sewer. It was not the dirty, damp sort of sewer of the deep places under a city, but dry and cool. His head was just beneath a grate for the water to flow through, actually, if it had been raining. Luckily, it was not. Cass was perfectly content to wait there, safely out of sight, for an opportune moment to make his next move.
For the moment, he sat on the concrete and leaned against the side of the sewer, silently cleaning his blow gun. Why not? His foggy self was already so out of the ordinary that having a weapon out would not change anything, and he was sure he would not be seen either way, unless there was someone inside the sewer with him, which he highly doubted. No, it was better to make himself useful while he was waiting.

[blue_dun]

No offense, but good riddance. I'm leaving.
The note on Joel's door was simple, but blatant.
He had found the new base, no problem. It was a beautiful building, he had to admit. He had simply checked in with Shaygrin, written the letter, stayed for a few minutes to take a nap, nailed it to his door, and left again.
He needed healing still- and badly. The bullet wounds in his arm were finally getting infected. It hurt like hell. And, worst of all, that was his shooting arm. But he didn't trust any of the Wren to take care of him. The only one they took care of was themselves. So he pushed all thoughts of them out of his head as he jacked a Ducati superbike that was parked down the street, slipped on a pair of black sunglasses, and sped away from the Wren.

He wondered if she was still the Naïve young woman he had left at the hospital two and a half years ago. She had begged and begged to go with him.
"Oh Lanaya." He had responded, tenderly. She was the only one he had ever dared to be tender to. "You have no idea how hard it is out there, and my job is way too risky for you to be involved in." he had leaned over and shared one last, sweet, passionate kiss with her, and walked into the sunset. The sound of her screaming his name would last in his heart forever.
Heh. It had been two and a half years. Would she even remember him? Was she married? Was she still a nurse-? He hoped it would be a yes to the first and last question, and a no to the one in the middle.
Oh sweet sorrow.
But he still needed to go fifteen hundred miles yet.

[Mystic]

||Surreal||

A silhouette shone through the old dust ridden window of the derelict building, one of many that had a small ledge to perch on and view the city below. It buzzed with activity, sending blaring horns and the sound of people's shouts scattering through the chaos of it all, forming into a cacophony that Surreal could only describe as terrible. Why people lived in these large overbearing places, she did not know. For a personal dream that they sought to achieve? Forced to live here because a job offered them something better? Either way, she found no use for such a horrid place, unless she was picking off shifty criminals who resided in the ally.

Slowly, Surreal slipped off of the windowsill, her finger tips just brushing the grime that clouded its surface. She had found this beat up building after the night she had arrived. Tired and possibly about to collapse on the sidewalk itself, she had found this abandoned building, filled with graffiti and chipped paint. In some distant time, she was sure this had been a warehouse, where they most likely stored some sort of perfume or soap. She could still smell it in the air, a sort of flowery fragrance that mingled with the dust that hovered in the place. At first, she had been planning to leave this abandoned warehouse to find a suitable hotel that would be comfy enough for her aching bones, but soon decided against it. She didn't want any luxuries from this disgusting city. She'd rather sleep in the gutter, with the rest of the homeless.

Letting out a blissful yawn, Surreal slipped off towards her makeshift bed, made of old sheets and pillows she had found around the place. Apparently, this building had had its fair share of occupants, who had either left their supplies here having forgotten, or had died. Either way, she had been grateful for not having to go back out into that dreadful city. Bending down to rip the sheets from over the pillows, she chucked the white cloth off to the side, revealing a few weapons she had concealed in between the pillows. Her beloved thin stiletto she instantly lifted from the pile, lovingly running her hand over the dangerous weapon. It was her favorite, of course. Light, easy to maneuver, deadly. It sure was handy. She slipped it into the flat sheath that resided in her boot, easily concealing it. Next, her switch blade, which she carefully placed into the loaded spring device strapped to her forearm. Then, came a few throwing knives, which she strapped to her thigh for easy access, and, lastly, a gun, which she hid inside her coat pocket.

Rubbing the tense muscles of her jaw, she carefully roved her stormy grey eyes over the inside of the old warehouse, making sure she didn't forget a thing, didn't miss something that she would regret later. After checking a few more times, she finally decided she was ready to go. Her tread was light as she slipped off towards the back door of the building, her boots silent against the dirty concrete that was the floor. A loud thwump echoed through the building as the heavy door slammed behind her, leaving her out in the open, on light brown soil and dead grass. She couldn't help but crinkle her nose at the sight. Such a disgusting place, bruising the land and the atmosphere with all the many gasses and litter that humans constantly threw around, as if it were nothing.

Surreal held back her anger, replacing it with a cool mask that people wouldn't think twice about, as she hurried off to the front of the building, meeting the sidewalk and the bundles of people that scattered amongst it. Instead of renting a vehicle, like a sane person would in this dreadful city, Surreal decided to leave the frustration of traffic for another day. She didn't like society's form of transportation these days anyway. She started at a light walk, off in the general direction Shay had stated in her announcement of a new HQ. Personally, Surreal was excited for the new unveiling, to see her new home. Hopefully, they would actually be able to keep it this time, instead of being buried in the rubble of its remains once more.

After maybe 20 minutes of walking through tittering mobs of humans, Surreal finally came upon the building, easily finding Shay and that bird thing she had learned to be named "Kuar". She felt the urge to crinkle her nose once more, a sign of her dislike for the creature, but held it back as she made her way over to them. Up close, she could see their new HQ was a plain old Post Office, something she hadn't really expected from Shay. But it was welcome. She was just glad that she had a home once again.

Turning her attention to the man and woman before the neat little building, Surreal gave Shay a simple nod of greeting, deciding to ignore the winged creature to her side.

"Sooo... This is it?" Surreal murmured, wanting to make some sort of conversation other than stand around and act like she was observing clothes that hung in the windows of near shops. The anticipation of it all was just too much to bear for such a thing.

[Derelict Draught]

// Zerahsk Gulida \\

A moment passed as Taylor stared at the woman, his mind turning the name and facts over. Both claims seemed to fit but there was something more to them than appeared to him. He didn't like this. He didn't have much choice however.

Something drew closer in the darkness, he couldn't explain how he knew but a sense of dread rose in his stomach as each second slipped away. They weren't far from the stairs which led into the darkness, they would only need a few minutes of sprinting to reach them. Whatever nightmare lingered in these depths sought her however, not him. He could leave her and escape to safety. He'd even get paid for his service.

Slowly he considered his options. Morals clashed against logic and self preservation.

He took too long.

Oblivion stood just moments away, the footsteps were heavy and sluggish. Whatever pursued them lacked urgency. In a manner entirely different from the norm, Taylor found the pace terrifying. Even knowing escape existed only a short sprint away, he felt as though they were trapped without a hope.

Instinct took hold. Taylor grabbed the woman's arm and began his flight.

"You can explain how I ended up in the hospital and all AFTER we're clear of this-"

Taylor crashed into the wall at a full sprint. Panic gripped him. The staircase had been right here. He remembered the exact position. The traps all had been in the same locations. How could this have changed? Who could remove a staircase cut into stone? That's just impossible.

"I-"

Sounds echoed about them softly. They were growing in number and coming from more directions. In the dim light he couldn't see any alternate exits. They needed a new plan. There only seemed to be one viable option.

"We have to go back."

His words felt heavy, a tinge of panic settling in his voice. There were too many to fight and they were everywhere which made searching for another escape route too dangerous. That left the church. How he hated that church. They were getting close though, he could already see the silhouettes in the darkness.

"Stick close to me and don't slow. We're making a break for the church."

// You want another physical? \\

Jessica smiled softly to her sister, a sinister look in her eye to remind the girl of just what happened the last time she'd made an attempt. Beneath the wrap which the woman "borrowed" Jessica's clothes were tattered, the result of their small squabble. The heavy inlay corset beneath her garb shielded her from most of the damage though she did bear a few cuts and scrapes where the Butcher had been lucky.

Now the two stood within the confines of a small store, playing the role of siblings. She'd decided to play along for the sole fact that the device which bound her continued to appear impregnable. She needed the key or whatever to unlock them and she suspected that Shaygrin was the only one with the means to release her. Inconvenient to say the least.

So she played along, filling a role she'd so often used to blend into the cultures of the world. Her fingers loosely gripped the edge of a silk wrap of a burgundy color.

"Look sis! I bet Mah would love this one!"

[blue_dun]

Joel sighed as he passed the brand-new marker sign that said "Brenson, Colorado." It hit him that it was so ironic that this place had been named Brenson. He didn't have the best reputation in this town, after all.
Two years ago, when he had left, the houses that he drove among had been just frames. But now they were residential condos. Little kids played in the front yards. Parents, sitting on the door stoops, watching, stared at him as he went by. 
Actually, he remembered when this place was a barren plain, and the only thing standing was the gigantic hospital that loomed in front of him now. He knew every floor of that place, at least he had when he had left her here. 
Swinging the Ducati into the parking lot of the Hospital, Joel glanced up at the imposing, sleek edifice that was the Johnson and Gutierrez Clinic. He was here again, and not just because of her. 

----

Mrs. Tapparo, on receptionist duty, just happened to glance up, and spot the young man who was standing outside, looking at the list of staff. She could instantly tell that something was wrong with him. Is he paralyzed? His hands are stuffed casually in his pockets, but that right arm of his is just dangling there... Oh well. She shrugged. Doubtless he would wander in at his own pace. She bent back over her paperwork, and waited.
Barely a minute later, she was scared out of her wits by a voice  right in front of her. "Forms, huh?"
She looked up quickly, and was relieved to see that it was just the man. "Yeah." She sputtered. "Do you need something?"
"Actually, someone. I'm here to see Miss Jacobs."
Mrs. Tapparo glanced up at him incredulously. She was a close friend of Miss Jessica Jacobs. She never got any visitors, and she never expected any.
Well, wait a minute. Except for one. "A young man," she had said. "He looks about thirty but is actually twenty. He has piercing ice blue eyes, and grayish-blackish hair. If he's come to see me, he will be ruggedly handsome. A three-o-clock shadow, his hair unkempt."
Well this sir seemed to fit the bill. And he had directly asked for the young, pretty nurse. So she gave the man one last glance over, and picked up the phone and hit the intercom button. "Paging Nurse Jacobs. There is a visitor here to see you." 
"Thank you." Said the man, and he walked a little ways away to wait. 

----

Joel didn't have to wait long. Soon the elevator beeped to say that someone was stopping by.
The doors opened to reveal a petite, perky little nurse with ruby red lips and soft brown eyes. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but her aura- one of presence and confidence- was enough to make one fall in love with her.
She stepped into the room, and turned to face Joel. "So. You've finally decided to pay me a visit. Its been two and a half years now, you know."

[SpartanAmethyst]

((Three more finals left then I'll try to post ;-; Sorry guys.))

[Pandle]

Vlad bought a book once. Well, more frequently than once, Vlad is a self admitted bibliobabolion and not afriad to let everyone know that, but the real shame was buying a book on child care. He did it because he cared. One day Shay was Shay; irriating -just marginaly- with an unhealthy tea-obsession and a love for stories and adventures. Next she was a lump of green metal with a bump in her belly.

A baby.

She'd gone and got herself pregnent! I mean what a foolish thing to go and do, then she went and blamed Vlad. Okay, he admited that he was firing blanks (so to say), Shay wasn't the first to have fallen pregnent by him, not by a long shot, his first child was Annie, or was it Taomie who came first? He wasn't sure, there were simply too many mini-Vlad's to keep track off. But Shay was the first one to complain about it.

When Svi'zlo had personaly seen to it that Vlad should never reproduce again he took great care, how was Vlad to know that his brother's idea of "great care" wasn't good enough? He was not. And no one else he'd mated with had fallen pregnent since the event so, it was a natural assumption. Maybe Shaygrin was too fertile. Yes, that must have been it, it wasn't Vlad's fault at all, it was Shay's entirely. But Vlad has forgiven the Sylvian Empress and she should see that now.

"I bought a book," Vlad formulates the words as they step onto the bus together "about baby care." And as if bought newly for such the moment Vlad fished around an inside pocket and withdrew the tatty book. It was ancient, as old as Vlad nearly but well read. That much was obvious. He waves it in her face with a wonky smile, showing her.
"Rule one with babies, do not throw hair dryers at them when they do things wrong." That wasn't rule one, it wasn't even a rule in the book, but Vlad knew Shay would understand the pun. Not that it was punny, it was a statement. They take a seat on the leathery seats and Vlad remebers exactly why he learnt to flit. Transport was the worst invenstion since humans.

"Shay you left a hole in my abdomin which took three years to heal again and besides which you went running, if I recall you told me not to bother finding you and that I'd already done enough." The bus ride jolts them ungracefuly and Vlad stops, regaining his dignity -or what ever he has a subsitute.
"Aside from being ungreatful you wounded me. I loved you when I didn't think it possible, that has enough from you, but that was destoryed so do not hold me to blame for your singleness." He sits in a sulky silence for some hours, letting the jolting ride throw him around.

"But I am sorry. I wanted to make things right."

// S.A //

Must the warmer climates all be red? Red roads, red earth, red dust and a humilliating red faced Vlad all stand beside Shay. She has changed and he misses her, misses her terribly. This new her is not the same as the old. He wants the older Shay who was young and silly but lovely. She's become heartless and old in this mortal world, the beings ignorant of the worlds beyond them, unable to proffer the adventures he could, still can.

But he would stay. For Shaygrin. What else did he have left anymore?