Realistic or Modern Moonlit Retreats [Closed]

[Syntra]

Not the brightest tool in the shed, are you? There were about a dozen things Arthur could have done, and pretty much all of them would have been a guaranteed game over. He could have fired; he could have shouted for help; or, and she was going for the bare fucking minimum here, he could have at least been a little more suspicious of what Lilian the Certified Traitor said instead of following her goddamn wishes.

That was kind of the thing, though, wasn’t it?

People like Arthur weren’t there to think. None of the hunters really were, once you got to the bottom of it. Disobedience had been beaten out of most by the time they could spell the word, and those who retained the rebellious streak… well, those were often among the first casualties. Turned out that orders were orders for a reason, ladies and gentlemen! Doing whatever the superiors wanted was a legit survival strategy, as long as they didn’t suffer from chronic idiocy themselves. It was also the… the easy thing. The comfortable thing. Giving up on control meant it wasn’t your fault when things inevitably went to hell, and didn’t that beat having your friends’ blood on your hands?

(Not that it had ever stopped the wondering. That was the worst thing about it; the would haves, and the could haves, when the sleep refused to come. The nightmares when it finally did, too.)

So, it didn’t really surprise her that this Arthur reacted the way he did. The troublemaker was cooperating, after all, and the path of the least resistance was always a tempting route. Plus, he could catch the traitor on her own! Bonus points for the ‘crawl as far up Michael Serafis’ ass as you can’ competition!

“Uh huh,” she nodded, “Sounds fair enough to me. Can’t have me doing anything funny.” She did start turning around, to give him the impression she really was going along with this bullshit, “And I have no idea where my vampire friend is. I don’t have her leashed, in case you haven’t noticed. For all I know, she could be…”

Practically mid-sentence, Lilian spun around. The movement was unnaturally fast, almost too much for the untrained eye to register it -- what he did or didn’t see mattered little, though, because she still managed to twist his wrist and get him to drop the gun. Quickly, she seized it herself, “Make a peep and I’m shooting you,” the huntress warned. “I’ll do it faster than you can say ‘I’m Mikey’s little bitch,’ so I wouldn’t tempt fate too much if I were you.”

Ha ha, eat your heart out! But, of course, that still didn’t solve the issue of her having no idea what the fuck she should do.

Well, almost no idea. Dialing Cass’s number seemed like a no-brainer.

“Hi, Cass,” she breathed into the phone, “This probably won’t shock you but I’m kinda fucked. I, uh, have the info, but I also have a hostage,” because that was what Arthur was now, essentially. “And a witness. So, I’m… stuck.”

Killing him would right there was the obvious answer, but dammit, Lilian still had a hint of conscience left!

It was one thing to stab a bitch during a fight, and something entirely different to execute a defenseless fucking prisoner.

Even if he likely would have had no qualms about doing it to her.

~***~

Am I an idiot?

Inga likely asked herself this question more often than most, and her answers changed by the day. Sometimes, she felt like a genius; at other times, she might have tattooed the word ‘dunce’ on her forehead, had the regeneration factor not been such a little bitch about letting them have stylish things like that.

Right now, she… wasn’t exactly sure just how dumb it was, to advocate for someone that she a) didn’t even know, b) had betrayed Antonia once already. Her gut reaction was ‘pretty fucking stupid,’ but it was also true that some of her best ideas had been born from especially suicidal impulses. Something about the angle being unusual, perhaps? And the paths less travelled did lead to interesting destinations, if only because nobody else bothered to take them.

Of course, ‘interesting’ didn’t have to mean ‘good.’ It was probably the opposite, here.

Something told her this might earn her a one-way trip to the Slapville, and yeah, Antonia couldn’t even be blamed for reacting like that.

But nothing of the sort happened. She let her touch her, and listened, and… apparently thought it was a good idea?

Fucking what?

The look on Inga’s face made it pretty clear that she couldn’t be more surprised, though Lixin’s own shock still trumped hers. His eyes darted from Amon to Antonia, then back to her, and they stayed there, as if he really saw her for the first time. Whether he liked what he was seeing, that much Inga couldn’t tell; what she could tell, though, was that she had his full attention now.

“I… yes, I can be useful,” he finally said. “In whatever ways you might see fit. If there’s a chance those people may be saved, I’m in.” After all, it wasn’t like leaving Johannes with Isolde wasn’t just prolonging the agony, “But why are you doing this, Inga?”

Why, indeed? There were many reasons, none of which she felt too comfortable talking about. ‘No biggie, I’m just trying to come to terms with my own tragic backstory’ was way too pathetic even for her tastes, and the other thing wasn’t really much better.

In many ways, it was actually worse.

How did you even say that you were trying to move away from the whole wanton cruelty shtick? Yeah, death to enemies and all that jazz, but… well, spotting patterns was Inga’s thing, and the one pattern that was becoming increasingly more and more obvious was that every sin she’d ever committed had eventually come back to bite her in the ass. The little kindnesses, also, snowballed.

Besides, who was she to not give a second chance? That she was even sitting here was the result of Antonia not being stingy with those, and paying it forward felt like the right thing to do.

Maybe she just didn’t want to live in a world where one fuck up meant you were finished.

And no, the world didn’t often care what Inga Singedottir wanted, but that was the main argument to change something now, when she could.

Or something.

“A mystery, eh?” she finally asked, her voice a little hoarse, “The same reason I do just about anything. I… thought it would be funny.” A lie, and not a particularly good one. It was nutjobby enough to pass the muster, but the way she averted her gaze, and looked a little smaller all of a sudden, suggested a very different interpretation.

(Even implied, gratitude always felt like a slap in the face.)

“But listen to me, Wang Lixin,” Inga found her confidence, again, “This makes you my responsibility. Break that trust, or hurt Antonia in any way, and I promise, you’re going to the top of my list.”

What kind of list it was likely didn’t need to be specified.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of that,” Lixin grinned. “What would you have me do, then?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Arthur really should have seen it coming, but of course, if he had, he would have stopped it. As it was, the gun was taken from him with a grunt, and as he considered shouting out for help, or even trying to tackle her while they were close, she managed to get out her ultimatum that he remain silent or die. Of course, he could still die if he remained silent, but he had a moment to weigh that consideration as Lilian dialed for, no doubt, her unleashed vampire friend.

Arthur couldn’t hear that side of the conversation.


Cassidy honestly wasn’t expecting to even hear Lilian when she answered, assuming she’d hear the sounds of a fight, but to her pleasant surprise Lilian appeared to be in a situation in which she could talk. Lilian had a hostage, and a witness. No doubt, the same person.

Cassidy sighed, “Okay. Okay,” she breathed out, leaning against the wall of the convenience store she stood outside of, can of tuna nearby with Pete enjoying his feast, “I can call in the bomb threat,” like they spoke about, “Um, I might be able to get in after that, but I’m…not clear on what we’re doing. Are we keeping the hostage?”

If not, she supposed she could knock them out and they could get out of there. Sure, they’d remember, but whatever dangerous situation that Lilian was in now would be averted. Obviously, she couldn’t get out of it on her own, which meant a phone call or something to clear the area so there was space to move and get the hell out of there.

That they’d be found wasn’t exactly a consideration for Cassidy, nor how to avoid it. A part of her just…assumed they would be. There were cameras nowadays. So long as they stayed ahead of the hunters, that’s all that really mattered.

“Nevermind, we can figure that out, I’ll give the call,” and indeed, Cassidy would do that next if Lilian did not protest it.


Meanwhile, Arthur was considering if he ought to try anything while straining to hear the other side of the conversation, and failing. ‘It’s not like you’re going to live long.’ If Lilian didn’t kill him, well…one of the Seven would. Probably not Michael, he didn’t have time to come down here, but there were others.

So, he decided to do something stupid: he screamed.

~***~

Given a rope to pull himself out of his mess, Lixin took it. No surprise to Antonia, of course. Lixin hadn’t given up the hope on Johannes’s life, or on seeing them again, somehow. Antonia wasn’t making any of those promises, nor would she. The hope would be enough for Lixin, and the knowledge that she’d prefer they all live, if only to spite Isolde.

If only spite were enough.

Isolde’s head was still on her list. Not the last, the murders would continue if there were Veturia left, but certainly at the top.

Inga’s refusal to answer was also no surprise, but Antonia would hardly push it in front of a stranger who was also a threat to every single one of them, as Amon pointed out. No, not that anyone would listen – but he could use his role in other ways to fuck them over, depending on how much they chose to trust him. Which, would not be much, to begin with.

“For now, we’ll start with the placement of the Maechae. I don’t wish to have another of them hurt,” that had been an accident. Lixin would find ways to atone in his own time, but for now, she would see to it they were protected, “You will inform me of where they are, and we will discuss how to move them and when, from there.” No, the Maechae wouldn’t be directly informed of what was going on, but Dia was a smart woman.

She’d figure it out soon enough and make sure her pack stayed alive while playing the game.

The rest was hashed out, eventual plans, hopeful plans, and of course – a request to get more information from Isolde. Try to see Johannes, to make sure he was still alive. Try to find out where he was being kept – where they were all being kept, if it really was something like a vampire farm – so Antonia could figure out how to break them all out (or kill them all so Isolde couldn’t have them, but she didn’t say that part aloud). Lixin had several marching directions, with few orders.

If he wanted to take Isolde down, he’d use that tenuous connection to find the way to do it.

Antonia, however, wouldn’t trust that his desire for revenge would outweigh his need to save Johannes. If push came to shove, Lixin would let Isolde keep her head, for the sake of One Childe.

Another thing she did not need to point out, as the meeting wrapped of, partially because it truly had run its course, but also because of time. Antonia wouldn’t be staying the day there, after all.

“I’ll stay a little longer,” Amon said as she rose to leave, arching a brow at him, “What? It may be normal for you to leave a party early, but not me,” he smiled, “and we cannot doubt Isolde is paying attention, can we? I have to play my role as well; I’ll be staying the day here and I’ll go home at nightfall.”

“You’re certain?”

“Oh, I don’t enjoy it,” he said, “but I’m sure even Lixin understands certain appearances?” it was unlikely Isolde was watching in any detailed way, or their arrival alone would have been a problem, but she would know when they left. “We’ll likely need to arrange some reason or other for my staying. We haven’t had a party in quite a while. I’m sure I’m nearing 6,000 now.”

Why argue with him? Why?

Antonia didn’t waste her breath. Amon made his point, so she just huffed and walked out; she didn’t need or want an escort. Inga was enough for that and she knew the way, despite all the strange angles and turns in Lixin’s house.

Amon would let them leave sight.

He would wait until he could not even smell them.

“You do owe Inga your life,” he didn’t look at Lixin. “I suggest you not forget that,” he rose, and looked back towards him, “when this is all over, there will be a party, of course. We’ll want to make sure it is the best of all – as if it were the last.” Whether or not it would be, he couldn’t say. Lixin’s actions determined how long he lived.

So would the party, but that went without saying. “It really has been too long that we’ve made any plans at all, and that’s a travesty.”

 

[Syntra]

Well. Were they keeping the hostage?

Lilian, who still hadn’t quite processed that there even was a hostage, could feel a surge of something suspiciously similar to hysteria rising in her chest. “I don’t know, Cass. I mean, we’ve only been dating for a bit, and haven’t even gotten a dog yet. Could we really care for a hostage? Seems like a crazy big responsibility, to me.“ No, not the best time to joke, but also, basically the only time to joke. Coping mechanisms didn’t exist for when you were fine, for god’s sake! They were there to make the shitty situations… slightly less shitty, or at least to distract you from the general shittiness. “But if it makes you feel better, I also have no idea what I’m doing.” Probably not too reassuring, actually, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

What did one even do with a hostage? The tradition was to exchange them for money, but this wasn’t that kind of situation. Lilian honestly didn’t know what kind of situation it was, except that she didn’t like it, even more than she usually disliked things. Everything about it felt like way more trouble than it was worth, given the obvious complication of Arthur having eyes and ears. Wouldn’t it be like asking him to spy on them? Like giving him the codes to their safe and asking him to, pretty please, not forget about the golden nuggets in the corner?

People remembered shit. They remembered it better the more you didn’t want them to remember, mainly for ‘fuck you’ reasons. Killing him would solve the issue, but dammit, that was the One Thing she was trying to avoid!

(Stupid bleeding-heart tendencies.)

“You do that, yeah,” Lilian nodded, “I guess we can use the chaos to—”

Oh, fuck.

Yeah, fuck. Fuck everything to seven fucking hells, especially Arthur Lavigne!

But also, fuck her for assuming that a hunter would be anything close to reasonable. That was 100% on Lilian, and she could, at least, admit it.

“Okay, change of plans,” she muttered into the phone, “See you soon.”

‘Provided I don’t fucking kick the bucket’ was the unspoken continuation, and she honestly preferred to keep it that way. Saying these things aloud… well, it always felt like a death sentence.

“You fucking idiot, you wanna die in here?!”

Everything about his actions suggested that, yes, that was exactly the plan. That Lilian Perry didn’t share the self-destructive tendencies was ironically the one thing that kept him alive, because had she valued her own life just a little less, she totally would have strangled him just for that. As it was, though? Her brain switched to the ‘fuck this shit, I’m out,’ mode. And since there weren’t that many ways to fuck off, if you didn’t count the obviously suicidal idea of just walking through the front door…

In a textbook violation of gun safety rules, Lilian threw the weapon at Arthur’s feet. Why that was her gut reaction, she couldn’t quite tell; likely the combination of not being used to firearms, not wanting it anymore, and also just… your plain, everyday frustration.

That the gun went off was a result slightly more severe than what your plain, everyday frustration tended to produce, but, hey! Not her problem anymore!

Primarily because she jumped through the (very much closed) window. Was it a little higher than she would have liked? Yes. Did she still prefer it to than having like ten swords stuck in her stomach? Also yes!

But, just like most things, it was better in theory than it was in practice.

The impact hurt like a bitch, mainly because Vegas was all asphalt. Most civilization was all asphalt, and Lilian Perry cursed that very fact when she heard something crack, a tell-tale sign of shit going very, very wrong. God fucking dammit!

“Uhh… are you okay, Miss?”

Vegas may have been a quirky place, but, judging from the way those college-aged kids were looking at her, it apparently still wasn’t quirky enough for women randomly falling out of windows to be anywhere near a common sight.

“Yeah, yeah. Never been more okay in my entire life!” Lilian brushed them off, before standing on wobbly feet, “What, haven’t heard of window diving? It’s the latest rage on the internet.” But, since it likely wouldn’t take too long for pursuers to show up, Lilian headed… well, somewhere. Towards the biggest crowd, because there was nothing worse than getting stuck in a dark alley when being chased by a bunch of fucking maniacs. “Cass?” she called again, “Where are you? I’m outside, and only slightly fucked.”

A marked improvement!

~***~

Inga tuned most of the following conversation out, except that she didn’t. There wasn’t much she could say about the plans being laid out, so she sort of stored the details into her memory, while also planning different things entirely in the meantime. Multitasking, bitches! Gotta put the brain to work! So, she outlined all the analyses that still needed to be done, and tried to make them fit into her increasingly crowded schedule. It was a strange thing, really; to suddenly have shit to do, aside from all the pet projects she’d taken up to… well, to make it seem that way. To suppress the emptiness. To be able to pretend that her life wasn’t just something that went on and on because it didn’t know how to stop, more than anything else.

She liked the change. She liked most of the recent changes, even if some of them also pained her. But wasn’t that also a sign that you were alive? Only dead things didn’t hurt.

Lixin, meanwhile, did have the decency to look somewhat apologetic about the Maechae, and promised to work with Antonia to make their existence less of a hassle. “They have been good to me,” he sighed, “Perhaps more than I deserve. Yes, we should work together to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“Do call me when you find out more about Isolde’s whereabouts,” Inga woke from her lethargy, once they began discussing that, “I have been a terrible Veturia, and haven’t paid a visit in ages.”

And, once she was done with her, nobody ever would. The biggest gift for one such as Isolde! Shouldn’t she be thanking her, for ridding her of all the troublesome audiences forever with this one simple trick?

But it didn’t seem like Antonia wanted to stick around, and Inga, also, saw little point in doing that, so she rose from the couch. “Alright, gentlemen, seems like that’s it. Enjoy… whatever you’ll be doing, Amon. And bye, Lixin! See you at your next party. I assume I do get invited?”

“Heh,” the man chuckled, “You bet.”

As they headed towards the car, Inga couldn’t help but think the evening had been a lot more peaceful than expected, which… could be either a good or a bad thing, or maybe even both of that at the same time. Who could tell, really? The future held many secrets, and causality was a bitch. “Be honest, Antonia,” she said, before opening the door for her because that’s what you did for a lady, dammit, “How bad of an idea do you think it was?”

Lixin, meanwhile, also failed to meet Amon's eyes, “Hard to forget about that. I have to say, I don’t know what game she or Antony are playing, but it was amusing to watch. How did that even happen?” ‘That,’ of course, referred to the whole ‘suddenly being friends with a Veturia’ situation. He’d heard the rumors, sure, but it was one thing to chuckle at the memes, and something entirely else to have Antonia confirm them. Antonia, the Queen of Grudges!

Mentioning the party did sway his attention away from that topic though. “Do you think it would be tacky to drink blood from Isolde’s skull?” he asked, “I can totally envision us doing that. I mean, there would obviously have to be a theme, and death and destruction seem fitting enough. Bacchus meets Mars! Or Bacchus… meets Bacchus? He always seemed like a violent enough guy, to me. But,” he pouted, a touch hurt, “That's because you also never visit anymore, Amon. What’s happened? Did you fall for the responsibility scam? I knew Antony was a bad influence.”

 

[Lucyfer]

‘Should we get a dog?’ This was the wrong time to ask that kind of question, and Cassidy heard the hysteria, but was that a legitimate question and way to establish a relationship at another level? Maybe they should start with a plant? ‘Cass focus.’ “Lilian, breathe.”

And then there was a scream. Cassidy could easily surmise that was the hostage, and things were not going to plan. Calling the hunter place would not be a good idea now, and she quickly agreed to this change of plans without details, hanging up, putting her phone away, and heading towards the bar to try and figure out just…what the fuck to do?

She heard a gunshot, winced, and ran forward.

Thankfully, she didn’t get all the way to running into the bar, before Lilian had jumped out the window and she saw her in the alley. ‘Oh thank god.’ She also heard that crack, but would have to disregard that for a moment as they needed to get out of that area quickly. Once the hunters figured out the gunshot sound was likely a distraction of sorts, they’d come swarming out of the bar.

She wasn’t fast enough to catch Lilian before she started moving into the crowd, but she was behind her, and caught up, answering the phone as Lilian called again more for her own amusement, “Behind you,” she answered, before managing to close the distance between them and snake an arm around Lilian’s shoulders.

She hung up.

“Saw you go out the window. Let’s get a taxi, you can tell me what you found back at the Luxor…or the hospital,” if she needed it, which Cassidy wasn’t sure if she did as she managed to walk well enough, for the moment. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, though. “Best to stay on the sidewalk and in the crowds.”

Something she definitely knew, but just to reiterate that she was on that same page, as her eyes went out to look for a taxi to get them the hell out of there as quickly as possible. The hunters would no doubt be coming out of the bar by now and looking.

If they didn’t recognize Lilian, they’d recognize the vampire, but the most they could do would be to hassle them a bit to try and get them to go elsewhere where they could fight. They’d just…have to not do that if they were spotted.

~***~

The car door beeped open, but it was Inga who opened the door, not her. It was almost expected. Not quite, but almost, and she paused at the door as Inga asked her silly little question about how many regrets Antonia was about to have, as if her entire life wasn’t one large regret at this point. How bad of an idea was it?

“Inga, if I thought it wouldn’t pay off, he would be dead,” which meant, not a bad enough idea, but possibly not a good one. It could pay off in ways that still caused substantial harm, but when the end was Isolde’s head, Antonia would take substantial harm for that. “I am aware that killing him would not have opened any doors.”

They would have shut several of them.

“This does not mean I forgive him, or trust him. We’ll have to be cautious with the information he does provide,” she slid into her seat, “he could turn traitor with the least provocation.” Isolde just had to dangle Johannes’s life in front of Lixin to make him dance to whatever tune she wanted, and then it would be over. Lixin wouldn’t pick them over Johannes, but that was something Antonia knew.

Something Isolde might not count on.

Much remained to be seen, and Antonia waited for Inga to get back in the car, before starting it, and heading on down the road, heedless as always of silly things like speed limits. They didn’t need to race against the sun, but it was uncomfortable enough timing that Antonia didn’t want to risk wasting time in getting back. “Why did you really want him spared, Inga?” Antonia asked on the way.

“You made a good point,” she would allow, “but there is more to it than just that. You gave yourself away when you wouldn’t answer him straight,” a small hint that she recognized Inga’s little falter inside, and was actually curious about it. It meant that the logic wasn’t the point, even if that was enough for Antonia.

Something else had bothered Inga about Lixin dying.

~***~

Amon chuckled at the comment of ‘game’, and rose from his seat. No, he still wouldn’t quite look at Lixin, “The game all Romans play – panem et circum,” bread and circus! The masterful game of illusions. Even where the end goal was obvious, somehow, somehow, people missed it amidst the thousand and one things Antonia balanced.

“As for that,” he tilted his hand, “I am afraid we are not at a point of disclosure any longer, Lixin. Not for Antonia’s secrets.” Of course, it was a delicious secret, but there parts of it he knew, that others didn’t. He would not be fooling Lixin that morning with lies of secrets and confidence, when there was little between them.

He was not the master of panem et circum.

He hadn’t needed it; he was a pharaoh. A god.

And this lie didn’t amuse him enough. It hurt. It would go on hurting, even unto the party that would have to come. “Although I think you will find it difficult to pry Isolde’s skull out of Antonia’s hands once she has it,” and she would. He would not doubt her. “Death is a good theme, but perhaps not destruction, hm? Have we not had enough of that?”

Even if Antonia was so close to Mars – and so detested Bacchus. Bacchus ought to stay in the theme for his own amusement, of course. “Rebirth is more fitting, no?” When all was said and done, would it not be like opening a new book?

Perhaps the book would be a tragedy. Perhaps some would not step into the new book. Perhaps others would close it too soon. It was one of those things that did worry him about Antony, but yet again, another secret – the fact she lived only to kill was a problem for when the killing was done. “And I assure you, I fell for no scam. I am as irresponsible as ever.” False.

Still, there was the question of why. “I could in fact throw that question back at you, no? Where have you been all this time? Why have you not reached out?” a shrug, “what would it matter now? We let ourselves be distracted and took each other for granted, and now we are here, and I see I was not merely taken for granted, I was forgotten.”

Which was the greater sin, to assume someone would always be there when trouble arose and be disappointed when that was a lie, or to not trust someone when trouble arose…and learn one should have? “It’s in the past now,” if nothing else, Amon had learned that well. Better than Antonia, “We’ll go forward from here, such as with this planning for the party, and then considering how far we might be able to twist Tristan’s arm to get him to cough up information he has.”

Which would likely never happen.

Tristan was an avowed neutral, as much as he was an avowed anarchist. He was also not easily bought. Oh, he knew where Isolde lived. He knew plenty of terrible things like that; but no one listened to him. That was his punishment, in a way – an eternal Cassandra, because he could prove little, and everyone knew he’d once tried to destroy everything vampires had. If he spoke malicious words, they were lies! Of course, they were lies! He was just trying to sow discord again.

Still, it was fun to joke about.

 

[Syntra]

Someone grabbed her from behind, and Lilian almost leapt out of her own skin. Fortunately for the grabee, the arm did feel sort of familiar – which was why, even in the ensuing panic, her brain was able to connect Cassidy’s words to what was happening. Now, did that mean Lilian liked it? Nope. Not at all! “Never do that again, Cass,” she groaned, “What if I deck you next time?” And yeah, that was a legitimate concern, given how hunters had been trained to respond in these exact situations. Weird people creeping up on you from behind were bad news in like, 99% of cases, and that percentage was probably higher when you accounted for vampires. The remaining 1%... was deemed as acceptable collateral damage.

Who the fuck just grabbed people out of the blue, anyway? Someone who all but begged to be punched!

(It being her cute girlfriend was the one (1) mitigating circumstance that had ensured Lilian’s freakout wasn’t nearly as intense as it could have been.)

“I don’t think it’s severe enough for hospital,” or so she hoped, “But yeah, let’s get the hell out of here. Before the idiots realize what happened.”

Cassidy didn’t really need to review Losing Pursuit 101 with her, of all people, though Lilian decided not to mention it. “Listen, Cass, you’re going to love what I discovered.” The pretty much universal translation, given her tone of voice: ‘You’re going to fucking hate it.’ “Pete was right, it’s not there.” Bad news, obviously, and though not as bad as what was going to follow. “And because they’re a bunch of pretentious bitches, it looks like they sent it to Jerusalem. Can you even imagine? How extra do you have to be for something like that?” Insane cultist kind of extra, which definitely did check out. Still, it not being all that surprising couldn’t stop Lilian’s righteous fury, “I sure hope that Antonia enjoys burning her money on our travel expenses because this is going to cost an arm and a leg. Ugh, fucking assholes! Florida would have been cheaper. Why couldn’t it be Florida, Cass?”

Alright, perhaps she did need hospital.

Hospital, or at least a nice, long vacation away from all kinds of supernatural bullshit.

Pfft! As fucking if.

At least securing a taxi wasn’t too difficult; all it took was waving at a few passing cars, and one of them did, indeed, stop. “Hiya, ladies,” the driver greeted cheerfully, “Your destination?”

“Luxor,” Lilian said, and enjoyed the wave of relief that came with… well, making it inside safely.

Of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

“Uhh,” she piped up, “Is it just me, or is that black Honda tailing us?”

It sure as hell seemed that way, given it turned whenever they turned. And, hey! Maybe she was paranoid! But paranoia was kinda the healthy approach to have when you happened to be dealing with a bunch of violent fucking fanatics.

The driver, however, didn’t seem to think so: “Tailing us? What do you think this is, some kinda action movie?”

~***~

Yay for Antonia not thinking she was stupid! But Antonia herself also wasn’t stupid, and that often translated into… well, into her noticing things. Uncomfortable things, sometimes. Those small, inconvenient truths that Inga personally censored, because there were few things scarier than the world knowing that she was a person with thoughts and feelings, instead of the caricature that she liked to be.

Being a spectacle was better. Safer. You could dislike an actor’s mask, but that didn’t mean you disliked them, since that was sort of impossible if you’d never known the person behind it in the first place. And if she put it on willingly, didn’t it mean it was something that she wanted? A choice, not a sentence! Something delightfully fun! A performance that Inga played for quirky, chaotic reasons, and not at all because it was hard to parse what people expected from her, and harder still to conform to it.

And yeah, she could have told Antonia off. Deflecting the question would have been easy, the same way it would have been easy to default to the old, worn-down script, with its pages yellowed from use.

‘Not answering straight? I have no idea what you mean.’

‘Just subverting expectations, sváss mínn. What, it’s not peak comedy?’

‘Because I felt like it. When have I ever made sense, hmm?’

But, the thing was, maybe she didn’t want to be a spectacle to Antonia. Maybe Antonia also didn’t want that, considering she’d asked.

So, time to be honest? For once.

“You’re going to laugh,” a prediction, not necessarily an accusation, though she did look away regardless, as that made things a little easier. The sky was still pitch black, and somehow, it was more comfortable to lose herself in that darkness, instead of facing the woman she loved. The woman that didn’t really know her, despite everything. “But feel free to, because I suppose it is funny.” And damn, it sure as hell was! The proof that, even after all those years, her head was still full of those silly little ideas that really should have been chucked into the recycle bin by now, because they did nothing for anyone, the least of all her.

Wasn’t that why she’d kept them, though?

“A sire ought to care for his childe, Antonia. I just didn’t think it was that unforgivable a sin, and if that was the only stumble after all the centuries you’ve known him, then… I don’t know. I don’t like it, this idea that you can never be more than your mistakes. That faltering once is all it takes.”

Why that was the case likely didn’t need to be explained.

“Naïve, I know,” Inga allowed, to counter an argument that Antonia hadn’t made yet, “And I’m also not sure how much I believe it, myself. But if I’m not going to try, then what’s the point?” That was when she finally looked at her, a strange light shining in her blue eyes, “If the world is always going to be so terrible, why bother dealing with it?” A legitimate question. Perhaps the most legitimate question that Inga had ever asked of anyone, in between all the pretending that literally nothing mattered, and trying to forget what had mattered to her, once. “I guess I want to believe in all that stupid stuff. In my gods, and the old legends, and that things can change for the better.”

‘That you can forgive me’ was a big part of it, as well, but also not something that Inga was willing to say aloud.

Too much, too fast.

~***~

Getting a serious reaction out of Wang Lixin was usually about as simple as getting the average fish to walk, which was to say, not at all. Something about seeing Among Like That did the trick, though; most likely because this also wasn’t his default state, and so it was easier for him to… well, switch to something atypical as well.

To go with the flow, since a good host always knew how to do that.

So, he tilted his head aside, “You're right. I’m… sorry, Amon. I didn’t think it through.” To put it mildly. Why hadn’t he gone to him, or Antonia? A question that would likely haunt him for the years to come, if he even had years left to begin with. “I suppose I got too… caught up in things.” In other people, as well, not necessarily because he liked them better but because they’d been there when Amon hadn’t. How did the proverb go? ‘What the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t grieve over?’ Something like that.

Or perhaps not, given there wasn’t really any grief yet. Just… the promise of it, what with Johannes’s uncertain future, and the consequences of his own actions.

Sometimes, words were hard.

“You know, I always thought I’d grow wiser with age,” he gave a sheepish smile, “Not even more foolish. But that is the fool’s fate, isn’t it? Otherwise he’d have to be called something else, and I’m already too invested.”

Lixin had always thought that Amon liked that about him – the casual not-quite-insanity, and the willingness to go along with most things.

Then again, part of that may have been what had caused the entire Isolde situation. A double-edged sword, some would say.

“Don’t you have that backwards, though? You always need some destruction for rebirth, Amon. The phoenix rises from its own ashes, not from,” he waved his hand dismissively, “mud. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” And it really didn’t; old structures had to die for something better to replace them, at the end of the day. That the good things often died with it, as well, was just… one of the unfortunate truths of life.

He just hoped Johannes wasn’t one of those good things.

“Going forwards sounds great, though.” Perhaps too great for him to really believe it, “But, pah! You’d have more luck getting a rock to talk, Amon. Don’t you know that better than I?” Tristan could be surprisingly guarded for someone so chatty, and Lixin had no illusions regarding his willingness to spite Isolde for funsies. Unless… “Is there something we could offer?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Into the taxi they went, with instructions as simple as Luxor. Cassidy felt a little mollified at Lilian’s reaction – she had thought telling her over the phone she was behind her would have been enough, but she’d make a mental note to, indeed, never do that again lest she get decked. Not that it would be that bad, but she wasn’t striving to get injured or put any of them in that awkward situation.

She was mulling over this Jerusalem thing, though. “I don’t have a passport,” she knew that was another debt to Tristan, and the first hadn’t been paid off. Could they convince Antonia to pay it off? Maybe. Would that put them in debt to Antonia? Possibly. Cassidy wasn’t entirely sure what the lesser evil here was.

Not that a passport was their greatest concern right then. A car tailing them might be, and Cassidy put a hand on Lilian’s thigh, “Relax. We’ll be dropped off right at the Luxor.” Nothing was going to happen there. No hunter was that stupid. The Luxor was full of Silvon’s people, as well as civilians.

They had no chance even if they were tailing them.

Still, she squeezed Lilian’s leg and then took out her cell phone to send a text to Silvon, even if he might not respond. He might at least notice it, and make sure there were extra guards to greet them. She lowered it to her lap so Lilian could see the message as she typed it up and sent it, showing she wasn’t going to take it as just another vehicle going to the Strip.

Which was entirely possible.

Lots of people went to the Strip.

She sent the message and tried to relax, with her head below the seat. “Maybe we can go to Florida next time. I always did want to see Disney,” Cassidy mused, “it’d have to be in winter.” Otherwise there wouldn’t be enough darkness for her to enjoy it. “Maybe New Years….” when all was said and done.

For now, at least, they were able to drive right up to the entry of the Luxor, and the taxi driver asked for money. “Ah, right,” money, always money, Cassidy dug out her card for it as a few of the guards did step closer.

At least she wasn’t ignored.

~***~

‘When have I ever laughed at something funny?’ Her non-humor should have been well known, but Antonia didn’t interrupt Inga with that. She allowed the silence, keeping her eyes on the road, that focus easy enough to keep her from worrying how long it was going to take Inga to speak.

She’d speak before they reached Antonia’s home.

That much was true as she spoke of childes and loves, mistakes, and forgiveness. Things that Inga had to believe in for others, in order to believe in it for herself. Things Antonia didn’t believe in fully.

The love, of course. Despite what Lixin said, that was never forgotten. Perhaps how to do it again, but she never forgot what it felt like, just as she never forgot the lesson that made it impossible to do it again, a lesson he should have learned from afar. Safe.

She could feel Inga’s gaze on her. She saw it, even, through the mirrors, through the corner of her eye, but she didn’t look at her. “I wonder about dealing with the world myself. It’s rarely worth it,” Antonia noted, never laughing, “since it is this terrible, but I have my reasons to persist,” would the world be better after that? No. That was a problem for later.

“Although I do not believe you are right, I certainly hope that you are. I do not wholly dislike being wrong about good things,” although she would argue it. She would fight it. But when the results settled, she did have to bend to the truths. That was the problem with truths. “You’re certainly not wrong that a sire should love their childe. The degree is debatable…but that’s another matter entirely.”

The sin Lixin was charged with was loving them too much, being blinded by it, against rational things. Not love itself.

It was also true some simply did not love their childe. Revenge turnings were a thing; she had seen it happen when Vrishaketu set about his war. He loved few of his childes, if any. Antonia always had her doubts.

“The world still needs the naïve, Inga. The dreamers,” Antonia could not fit that role. She never really could. “Gia…,” why was that hard to even say his name in her presence? Because it was a weight in her throat. It was the thing between them, and saying his name reminded her, as well, what Inga had done. “…always said to believe everything could be true.” Inga might have liked him for his willingness to go along with things, humor impossibilities. “To prepare for it. He would always use silly examples, like – believe a rose could grow at the bottom of the ocean. Impossible.”

No sunlight.

The pressure would destroy it.

“I could point out everything wrong with it, and he’d nod along, before saying the problems could be solved. We have UV lights now. We even have submarines, now. We are closer to having a rose grow at the bottom of the ocean. An impossible thing.”

Possible.

“This is to say, it may be naïve to me, Inga, because I find problems. Perhaps you find solutions. The world needs both.”

It was sappy in a way. Serious, in a way, to try to reassure Inga that what she believed, was fine. That Antonia wasn’t going to laugh at it. But, she also wasn’t changing on a whim to accept it; Giannis hadn’t convinced her when she was a more optimistic person, and Inga wouldn’t, either.

~***~

For a moment, there was, indeed, that seriousness between them, a seriousness neither of them could hold for long. They were too old for that, really. Seriousness came in bursts, as surprising as it was terrible. When they had to be serious, it was something worth worrying over, after all. Not that they would ever comment about this.

No, it was back to themselves, as Wang Lixin chattered about destruction and phoenixes, “Like a phoenix never died of old age,” although that was still destruction in a way, the breaking down of the body, before it burst into ashes. He still chuckled at the thought of a mud-phoenix. He had to remember that, do something with it.

How much would it cost to commission a phoenix rising from the mud? As a statue? As a painting? It seemed like a good addition to this party, in either case. He’d figure that out later, he knew enough people into enough weird challenges.

He did chuckle about Tristan, “I wonder if there was ever one of us who could talk to rocks. I know there’s been those among us who could talk to plants,” at least, he was pretty sure of that, “unless they were lying,” also possible. Amon made a habit of lying about his talent, or rather, having it lied about, everywhere, anywhere.

He didn’t even need to.

Throwing fire wasn’t nearly as scary as what he could actually do.

Somehow that made it all the more fun, really.

“I never know what Tristan wants on any given day. Well, chaos, anarchy, dominion over humanity,” Amon chuckled, “the usual,” of course, like ‘dominion over humanity’ was just the usual – for Tristan, well, it was. Amon knew better than to trust that he would ever let that go, even if he was being patient about it now, and definitely funding every vampire movie made. Amon couldn’t prove that, especially not Twilight, but he was still certain Tristan had a hand in making vampires popular to make their ‘coming out’ easier.

“There’s probably something,” there always was. That was the other rule with Tristan. He had a price. He’d sold out Vrishaketu for a price. “But the odds of us wanting to pay it? Extraordinarily slim. He’ll want something worth more.”

And what was that?

Not even the sun knew.

"We can always find out."

 

[Syntra]

“I… guess,” Lilian allowed. “Won’t Silvon get in trouble, though?” The man may have been something of an asshole, but his brand of assholery also wasn’t incurable, and she wouldn’t wish the presence of the hunters on people much worse than him besides. “I mean, I doubt that they’re going to like… uh, most things about this. And you know how reasonable they get when they don’t fucking like something.”

Dancing around the topic like this was not Lilian Perry’s style, but saying too much in front of the driver also felt like a recipe for disaster.

Not necessarily because of themselves, but because of them. What if her hunter pals wanted to interrogate him, hm? Hadn’t Cassidy died like this?

Don’t think about that.

“I mostly wanted to see the insane shit,” the huntress laughed, “You know, something from all the headlines. What is it about Florida that it produces the most unhinged motherfuckers, anyway?” A beat, “You think Michael comes from Florida?” The accent didn’t really suggest so, but an accent could be learned and unlearned, and Lilian liked the idea a little too much to truly let go of it.

If nothing else, Michael was an honorary Florida man.

(That she, herself, was likely an honorary Florida woman in many people’s eyes was something that Lilian chose to conveniently ignore.)

The passport woes were… certainly woes, but money talked; it talked loudly, if you had as much of it as Antonia did. Cass was thinking in terms of having to deal with poor people issues, and, as long as they had the Roman on their side, they could at least cosplay as Mr. Moneybags.

“Fuck,” Lilian winced, the moment she stepped out of the car, “Yeah, I think I may have broken something.” A brilliant deduction, “But no worries, that shit basically heals itself. As long as you fix it in place, things shouldn’t go too wrong. And I have one other leg left besides, so really, how bad can it be?” Nopeee, Lilian Perry wasn’t actually afraid of doctors. A fearsome vampire hunter like her totally found nothing scary about the… weird helplessness, when you sat in the office and waited for the results that would tell you if you got to live or not. About not being able to deck the problem, for once.

Ha, ha, ha!

Ehm.

They got inside without incident, at least, “So,” Lilian turned to Cass with a smile, “Mission accomplished, I guess. What now? Do we just… go home?”

How easily that had turned into 'where Cass is' in her mind.

~***~

She didn’t laugh.

She did something better, and worse, in offering genuine thoughts of her own in return, gift for gift, the way Odin had asked of his followers once. Inga didn’t really know what to do with it, mostly because that was not the expected reaction. Always an overthinker, she had prepared escape plans in advance; all those ‘pfft, you really took me seriously, here?’ and ‘you shouldn’t just believe everything people say,’ but, confronted with the reality of not having to run, she found that she had no idea what path to take, or where it would lead.

This was… new.

An impossible thing, made possible.

Wasn’t it ironic, that it had all been caused by someone who didn’t believe?

There were other aspects as well, including some things that did worry her. Seeing an unexpected glimpse of herself in Antonia, for one; in that little admission that, yes, the world was terrible, but hey, this was fine, because she had a reason to stick around. Great on the surface, right? Except that Inga could also hear the other, unspoken part of the statement, much like she could predict the twists and turns in an unfamiliar story, due to story structures being largely the same throughout the ages.

Exposition; rising action; climax. Falling action, afterwards, and then, with everything else out of the way, resolution.

And how will this be resolved? What will you do, when there is nothing LEFT to do?

Also a question with which Inga was far more familiar than she would have liked. So far, the answer had been ‘find something else,’ but how did you do that when your obsession was… something this personal? Something not so easily replaced, like her own pet projects? Knowing what she did about Antonia, Inga could surmise what kept her alive – as well as the exact moment when it would release her from its hold.

The moment that she was making come faster.

Don’t you dare, Antonia. You’re making me stay, so you have to keep me company.

It was called ‘responsibility,’ dammit! Decent fucking manners!

Except that, no, that wasn’t right. Inga wanted it to be right, but that did not make it so, and she’d been wrestling with similar thoughts for far too long to not know just how pervasive that kind of pain could be. Always there, always present, like an injury that never healed, and when you forgot for a second, and moved as if it wasn’t there?

Yeah, fucking ouch.

In the end, her staying was her decision. Antonia wasn’t truly making her do anything, nor could she, if Inga really put her mind to it. Wasn’t it fair to let her decide, as well?

It was her own fault for falling for someone who was so very obviously an explosion, and then being terribly surprised that it might burn itself out.

But there was also that small flicker of hope; Antonia wanting to be wrong, maybe because her truth was harsh, with edges much too rough for her soft hands.

And… well. Where there was a will, there was a way.

Hopefully!

“The world needs me?” she chuckled, light and airy despite the sudden weight on her chest, “What a scandalous thing to say, Antonia Lenart. Something tells me I should have recorded that, in case I ever need more blackmail material.” Not too soon to joke about that, right? Unlike the other things.

“But, you know, I think Giannis might have been right. A rose at the bottom of an ocean… It isn’t so impossible a dream. After all,” Inga shrugged, “Things do grow in there. Not roses, no, but life finds a way. It’s stubborn like that. So, if I were to make it happen, I wouldn’t really… use UV rays, or similar props,” because fighting the entire world to simulate the ideal environment was neither wise nor very effective, “Instead, I would look at the organisms that have evolved there, and try to borrow their properties. I don’t know enough about that kind of genetic modification yet,” yet, always yet with her, no matter how insane a goal, “But I can learn. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll grow that rose for you one day, Antonia.”

Perhaps she would prove her wrong.

About love, and forgiveness, and wonder.

About everything.

“I suppose you might argue about what makes a rose a rose if I chose that route, though,” Inga thought aloud, toying with the idea the same way a kitten might play with a ball of yarn. “Does it still get to be itself, or did I just change it into something else?” Was she still herself, after all those years? “Can you even change it, to the point it goes like ‘hm, guess I’m not myself anymore?’”

Indeed, Inga still found it hard to be quite as direct as Antonia herself, mainly because her feelings were Too Much, and trying to convey that Too Muchness was almost as overwhelming in itself.

But – she could play nice.

She could offer more silly, usually private ideas, in that playful way that more than proved she felt fine sharing them.

“Plants definitely have thoughts. Trees have been around for so long, there’s no way they aren’t judging us,” it seemed to go hand-in-hand, the tendency to judge and longevity, “Maybe not the same kinds of thoughts we have, but I just don’t think we have a monopoly on cognitive processes. Wouldn’t that be sad?”

~***~

Lixin’s response was immediate, “Please, Amon. Have you ever heard of a vampire who died of old age?” Phoenixes were obviously in the same boat, because they were fire. Fire, and passion, and all those not quite silly things that made life… livable, in a way. Some considered his pleasure-seeking to be foolish, but really, weren’t they the fools? When you were guaranteed to be stuck on the Earth for the entire goddamn eternity, the least you could do is ensure your stay was fun. “And before you ask where they all are, I think they just don’t like publicity. That, and there also hasn’t been a new emperor in a while,” the fenghuang, a bird from his homeland, wasn’t exactly a phoenix in the Western sense of the word, but it was close enough for him to mention it, “So, as always, you can blame the Wuchang uprising.”

How was it so easy to glide from topic to topic with him?

Gods, he really had missed Amon. He hadn’t thought of him for a while, that much was true; it was also true that you didn’t really think of the things that seemed strangely unreachable, though. That just… made the whole unreachable-ness all the more glaring, like staring at a photo of a building that was long gone.

Was unreachable-ness a word?

Lixin decided it was, now. Democratic linguistics! Descriptiveness over prescriptiveness!

Maybe he didn’t actually miss the empire all that much, even if he had to admit the clothes had been infinitely more stylish.

“I hope not,” Lixin chuckled, “Stones, as well as walls, could tell some really incriminating stories. I once knew someone who could talk to storms, though. Well – she said so, at least. And then she died when lightning hit her, so I suppose she may have offended it somehow.” She had probably been lying, but why not humor it? At least it made for a funny story, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

Tristan’s desires, again, made him laugh a little bit. “What’s wrong with the boy? Dominion over humans, pfft. Not even humans can rule humans all that well, so I am not sure what he’s trying to accomplish, here.” Tristan himself likely didn’t know, but, then again – immortality was hard. They all searched for their purpose in their own ways, some more toxic than others. “What would he even do with them? Push them off the stairs, and watch them bounce?”

Lixin’s ideas of what the average ruler did may, indeed, have been influenced by some of the less sane Chinese dynasties, but that was neither here nor there.

“Not sure if that’s worth the inevitable rebellion. You just know they’d pull some Hunger Games shit, and likely succeed, because they’re just annoying that way.”

They really should find out, though. “Hm! How about inviting him, as well? I have some… fun new things that could help,” translation: ‘new drugs that aren’t illegal because the legislation hadn’t caught up with my suppliers yet,’ “They do make your lips a lil’ less tight. Among other things! But mostly, they make your memories really, really vivid. Like you’re in the moment,” his smile became impish, “We could level a town or two, again. Without making Antony too mad."

 

[Lucyfer]

“Yeah, we just go home,” Cassidy sighed, “too much trouble now with the hunters to do much else,” a sad truth. There would be no exploring Vegas.

Cassidy wasn’t all that worried about Silvon. For one, as became apparent when talking to him, he was as aware of the hunters as they were of him. Learning he sold the gem to hunters didn’t come as a surprise, even if he had thought they were just run of the mill cultists. As if “run of the mill” could ever describe cultists of any sort. Still, Cassidy supposed some things did become normal after centuries. He still barely reacted to the entirety of the situation except with disappointment that he wouldn’t find out much about the gem, and needing to call Pete off that particular mission.

He’d have other cats keep an eye on the hunters. He’d be safe, or so he assured them. Cassidy still worried.

Calling Antonia to brief her on the situation went over well enough. Antonia didn’t seem bothered by the passport thing, it was apparently an easy thing for Tristan to pull off, and it sounded like she’d cover the expense, just as she’d cover the expense of getting them back home, arranging the flights easily enough and forwarding Cassidy the ticket information to get them moving.

They didn’t get to spend long in Vegas. The hunter threat made lingering feel a bit too dangerous, so all too soon, they were on another late flight, and arriving back into a town which had a substantially larger hunter presence than before – and most of them NOT Michael’s hunters, from what she gathered.

It did set her on edge, but she tried to ignore it as Antonia sent additional information about an upcoming event that she wanted to talk to Lilian about before it went forward. This meant a meeting at her home, which was apparently going to involve a lot of these hunters, and a few vampires, in the assault on one of Michael’s bars.

“I don’t suppose Michael might just go running back to Florida some time soon, do you?” Cassidy sighed, knowing that wouldn’t really end this chaos. They were in too deep now, and they would get answers. She just wasn’t used to this kind of life.

She was tired.

Not tired enough to not be looking for signs that Lilian wasn’t okay, since they’d ignored a doctor, and it hadn’t been that long ago. “We can delay it, too. Probably. If you don’t want to deal with everyone right now.”

Antonia could learn how to wait.

Except she probably wouldn’t and would just go on without them because all of this was so time sensitive.

~***~

Inga enjoyed the rose idea, of course. It was one of those little things that Antonia knew, Giannis would have liked about Inga, and vice versa, if the world had been kinder and let him live. They would have exchanged nonsense ideas like that, and Antonia would shut them all down, leaving them to find ways to make it real. Dreamers. Giannis was not nearly as skilled as Inga at any of the practical things, but he could set others in motion.

“The Ship of Theseus problem,” Antonia noted, “When is something no longer itself? Does replacing one part of a rose’s biology make it no longer a rose? Is it only a particular part? Is it the image of the rose that is more important, or is it the biological make-up?” How many times had she pondered over such things? Was she still Antonia when she became a vampire? Or was she someone else?

“I believe Tristan is calling it the Jurassic Park problem,” she said it only for Inga’s sake, the shitposting arc and the nonsense that came out of it were still beyond annoying, but perhaps it would drum up some memories of any of those conversations she saw on that group chat that Antonia made a firm point to have no involvement in. “For contention, I’d argue the rose can’t be changed. It has to be a rose like we’d grow on the surface, but it’s not necessary.” She didn’t really want a damn rose. “It was only an example.”

With ample enough evidence to show how things imagined in the days before electricity became more and more possible. “It was something I couldn’t imagine back before Christianity came to power, and now, it’s feasible. Like flying, television, and a host of other things,” although flying had been easier for her to imagine, because those things always were for her.

Her home came into view as she pulled August into the drive, “And yes, I know plants have thoughts,” she chuckled, “I used to know someone who could speak to them. Or, she said she could, it was hard to figure if it was real, but she did have a gorgeous garden,” so they either had a green thumb, or the plants were good at yelling about their needs. That, of course, was a long time ago.

They weren’t around any longer, either. Thankfully, not from the massacre, but that didn’t make the passing less sad. They had been sad for a long time, and one day, the flowers just weren’t enough. At least, that’s what Antonia heard. She had not been near at the time.

She never seemed to be.

“I never really asked if they judged. I’m sure they did,” Antonia confirmed, “perhaps we’ll meet another who can and you can ask them.” Talents did exist in bloodlines, after all. It was always possible there were others. “For now, try not to think about plants too much.” She parked the car, “we’ll be busy again soon.” As if tonight hadn’t been busy.

~***~

‘Not yet, but I do intend to be the first vampire to die of old age.’ Amon though it an apt goal. He’d lived this long, why not die of old age? He was curious if it was possible. He’d almost like to die before Lixin, just for that reason alone – to get the last laugh, in a way, by dying in the impossible manner.

Of course, that was unlikely to happen.

“I end up blaming a lot of uprisings from you Imperialists,” he noted, although he supposed Antonia resented being called an Imperialist since she was still staunchly a Republic Roman. It was kind of amusing, really. Still, he lumped her into that category for convenience, and her ability to hold grudges.

“I suppose I have my own issues,” Alexander the Great, notably. Fuck Alexander the Great, although he was just the nail in the coffin of Egypt, really.

Talking to storms though, that was a laugh! Amon didn’t buy that at all, and chuckled at the manner of death, letting it lie for the sake of Tristan and his tight lips. “You could ask Tristan what he hopes for, I’m sure he’ll talk about that for ages,” Amon knew what it had been in the past, he wasn’t sure how much of it had changed. Tristan did take to human things quite easily, thriving in this era of technology.

Tristan hadn’t been as hateful towards humanity as his sire, though. Not in the past. It was one of the reasons they were able to spare him; whether that was a good idea remained debatable, depending on how much one enjoyed the shitposting group, or loathed it.

As an avid fan, Amon was pleased with the results.

“I don’t think it would involve stairs, though. He has the internet, he can see if humans bounce by watching them do it to themselves for no reason,” the internet was a strange and fascinating place of human stupidity.

And vampire stupidity.

Stupidity in general.

He loved it.

Also: cat videos.

“I do think inviting him to this party would be a touch too late, though, don’t you?” Amon chuckled, “If you’re already thinking we’ll have Isolde’s skull by then, his use goes down significantly.” He also wasn’t sure if they wanted to try drugging Tristan, but he’d let Lixin dig that grave for himself. He was already dead, after all, anything Tristan had on him couldn’t make it that much worse.

Theoretically.

The drugs did make him wistful, and he sighed in longing, “I would certainly be willing to try them. One day I’m sure you’ll find the thing that actually gets around my own blood,” which did not let him become intoxicated. In the early, early days, it had – but Amon had grown older, and far more powerful with his use of it, so he didn’t feel impacts of drugs or alcohol any longer.

But he was always willing to put that to the test. “I do miss leveling towns…not Antony’s anger, though,” he chuckled, “those were good days, before humanity became so obsessed with surveillance. Honestly, Lixin, you’d think they would have learned to value privacy and pass that down through the generations, not…whatever it is they’re teaching each other now.”

With their vines, and their tiktoks, and their cameras in their phones – phones they took everywhere! Who wanted that?

Just ignore the fact he also had his phone, with his camera, with him everywhere.

 

[Syntra]

More and more often, Lilian Perry wondered whether there was some kind of universe helpdesk that she could use to call the god and complain. The list of the grievances would be pretty much endless, but most of them could also be boiled down to: Can we ever catch a fucking break?

She just wanted to spend some quality time with her girlfriend, dammit! And do the usual relationship things, like measuring their hands, and talking about their first fledgling crushes, and… the more private stuff, that a good Christian girl like herself wouldn’t discuss publicly. But no, apparently. No, because Antonia thought that their time belonged to her, and that they’d show up the second she called them over.

That it sort of did was another sore spot. Like, yeah – they could tell her to go fuck herself. Lilian was also sure it would be weirdly satisfying, if only because Antonia didn’t look like the sort that heard such things often, and would likely benefit from exactly that. Her learning how to keep that Mt. Olympus-sized ego in check couldn’t hurt, yeah? Except that the predictable result was that she would tell them to go fuck themselves, in return, and given that Lilian was mostly unemployed and Cassidy didn’t make all that much… yeah. Not a good idea. A certified bad idea, if she was honest with herself.

That she may or may not have spent the last of her meager savings on ordering this totally cute necklace for Cass probably made this particular issue worse, though not by much. It wasn’t that different, having nothing vs. having almost nothing.

I can’t believe capitalism is still keeping us in check.

Wasn’t that supposed to not matter anymore? In all the cheap YA novels she had read to escape like, existential dread, the protags had never had to concern themselves with passports, and paying rent, and all the other annoying things that came with being alive. Saving the world took precedence, for fuck’s sake! That’s why they’re called cheap, and you fucking know it. Which… yeah, she did. Given that most people would unironically choose to burn the planet down before sacrificing about ten percent of their profits, it really wasn’t shocking that important things still cost money.

“Not even Florida deserves to be saddled with Mike,” Lilian rolled her eyes. “If he’s so set on the archangel archetype, I say he should fuck off to the depths of hell and fight some kinda holy war there. With demons, and the like.”

Of course, that was exactly what he was doing on the Earth.

In his fucked-up mind, at least.

What do you mean, ‘life forms other than human exist’ and ‘being different than me is not a hate crime?’

“I’m fiiine,” Lilian waved her hand, “Pretty sure talking to those people won’t kill me. If anything, talking to me might kill them.”

Antonia’s mansion was as ostentatious as she’d expected, and then some. Did it bother her that some people lived in houses this fucking big, while she couldn’t even save up for a car of her own?

No.

For more lies, feel free to turn on Fox News!

The place was swarming with hunters, which made her more uncomfortable than it should have, considering her own ambiguous status. So, she turned to Cass for some small talk, “You think Antonia’s killed Inga already, or…?”

“Not yet!” came Inga’s as-cheerful-as-ever answer. She was sitting on the couch, the space around her mysteriously unoccupied even as others scrambled to find some place to sit down, “Sad to say this, but I’m still alive and kicking. Well, as alive as I can be, given the whole undeath thing. Trying to categorize us is actually really intere—”

“I’m sure it is, if you have no other hobbies.”

Of course, the smile on her face only grew wider. “Glad to see ya as well, Lils-Lils. And you, Cassidy! I understand your little mission was an exercise in futility? Don’t worry, not all of us can be winners.”

~***~

Well. Wasn’t that an interesting problem?

”I like to think,” Inga said, after a moment of consideration, “That a rose is more than a sum of its parts. Most things are. You wouldn’t say to an amputee that they are no longer themselves just because they got a prosthetic limb, right? Or because they lost it in the first place.” A view much too sappy for the reputation she’d built so meticulously, though, considering her recent coming out as a hopeless fucking nerd, Inga supposed that didn’t actually matter that much anymore.

That Antonia Lenart had turned out to be the one safe person to be Like That with was something of a plot twist, but not an unpleasant one.

Quite the opposite.

“It’s like with stories, or songs,” no, she couldn’t quite let the analogy go, “You need context for those to make sense, and you need context for roses to make sense. Except the context is the rose itself! If you take one petal away, that doesn’t really change anything, even if it’s no longer whole. The idea is there. It will be there, as long as you’re willing to see it.” And that ideas transcended the physical form… well, that was an axiom that you could pry from her cold, dead hands.

You could change your mind easily, whereas you couldn’t change reality all that much. The customizability made it clear what the superior platform was!

The assertion that it was JUst aN eXAmPle did make her chuckle, though. “You don’t get to decide what it is to me, Antonia. I’ve already put it on my ‘to do’ list for the next century. No going back.”

Was she stupidly invested, despite it being a) a tremendous waste of her time, b) little more than verbal shitpost?

Oh, 100%.

In a way, it being so pointless was the entire point.

If you didn’t move the heavens and earth just to make your beloved roll her eyes in exasperation, then why even bother?

Antonia would have her damn rose one day, if it was the last thing she ever did.

More words were exchanged, as well as more hopes and promises. Yes, meeting someone else who could talk to plants would be just swell; “Maybe I could work on human-to-plant translation software one day,” Inga said, “But I’d need to learn some actual programming first.” As if not knowing the first thing about it was just a tiny obstacle, comparable to her needing to tie her shoelaces before running a marathon, “You think Tristan would help with that? I’d pay him in fanfiction,” or, if she ever got half-serious about this, in actual research results. That kind of thing was always a double-edged sword, though; Inga didn’t actually like sharing her data, especially not with people who knew how to use it. Once it left her hands, it was… well, out of control. A wild card. And, dammit, if someone was to accidentally destroy the world thanks to her inadvisable activities, it better be her! She wanted the credit!

(Not that that seemed likely. After all, the world was a pretty durable thing.)

It was late, though not that late, and so, once they said their goodbyes, Inga didn’t have to worry about the sunlight too much. She made it home pretty comfortably; the only sour point was the lingering regret at their departure, and not getting to see Antonia for a bit, again.

Wasn’t that shit supposed to grow weaker? The need to be close to her? It tended to, usually when she learned more about her loves – ‘she’s a ten but thinks vaccines are a conspiracy’ kind of thing. That had also been her plan for Antonia, despite never having thought about it in those terms. Just… love her until she couldn’t, and then move on. Enjoy the feeling, while it lasted.

What did you do when you couldn’t move on, though?

So far, her research suggested the answer was ‘be even more fucked than expected.’

Somehow, Inga was fine with this.

The following days she spent on analyzing the daggers, hellbent on discovering just what the alloy was composed of. Discovering the vampire kryptonite, after all those years? Sign her the fuck up! But also, not quite, because ‘I have no idea what I’m looking at’ wasn’t a worthy enough conclusion in Inga’s eyes. Yeah, I don’t think Mendeleev ever got his hands on this. It was also exciting, though in this very particular, very specific way that pissed her off all the same.

Well, at least she had that meeting to distract her from it all? The meeting with Antonia, Lilian and Cassidy, Max ‘Maybe Trouble’ Graves, and all those people whose names she hadn’t bothered to remember.

She arrived early, because of course she did, and had an exchange with Lils and Cass that she considered very friendly – of course, interpretations might differ significantly, here.

Lilian sat down next to her, likely due to there not being much more space left, and Inga put one leg over the other. “So, why are we even having this meeting in the first place?” she asked nobody in particular, “To argue over who will kill the most hunters? Gonna save you the trouble, because that’s going to be me for sure. Nobody has ever topped any of my high scores when I put my mind to it.”

She just… didn’t think this was a complicated enough situation to warrant all of this. Weren’t they going to go there, fuck shit up, and steal everything that wasn’t bolted down?

~***~

“I’m not an imperialist, Amon,” Lixin rolled his eyes, “I would just like to see my nation restored to its glory.” Or, more accurately, he was cosplaying as someone that did; he wasn’t truly invested the way Antonia was, but it seemed a fun enough activity to not-pursue. The elder vampire equivalent of yelling ‘get off my porch,’ maybe? Yup, seemed correct! “Is that such a sin? Back in my day, people at least knew to respect their betters.” That he had never known to do that was, of course, beside the point, “And you have to admit there was something delightful about how raw everything felt in those days.”

Much of it, of course, had been caused by human stupidity. That, and the casual cruelty. The society was softer these days; kinder, perhaps, with all the safety nets and health insurances. Stupidity was still very much a thing, but a lot was mitigated with those mechanisms.

“True enough,” Lixin allowed, “But, Amon, then I’d have to listen to him. Can you imagine? What if he babbles about Counter Strike again?” His hatred for videogames wasn’t actually that severe, but he did consider them to be terribly boring, and he made sure to mention it whenever the opportunity arose. That it pissed people like Tristan off was its own reward, “And I assumed there would be more parties before that one. To make sure we have the perfect party when the time comes, we really ought to practice. I’m… afraid we’ve gotten a little bit rusty.”

Yes, yes they had, and the unfortunate human tendency to monitor damn near everything had contributed to it, perhaps even more than their separation had. One couldn’t even burn down a city hall without alerting the media these days! As if those suckers didn’t have more interesting things to report on, such as… hmm, the beauty of butterfly wings.

Lixin did miss butterflies, still. Moths just weren’t the same.

“Just what I was thinking! The poor souls really are marching towards a cyberpunk dystopia,” he nodded sagely, “Then again, all of the novels I have read on that topic do come with cool aesthetics. Who knows? Maybe, when the next empire comes, it will look like that, rather than what we had. That’s… not entirely unappealing. At least they will get to make new, fresh mistakes, which is always exciting. Better than repeat the old ones like a complete tool, eh?”

Not that Lixin enjoyed betraying his friends, but, for all intents and purposes, it was an… experience. Something different. Maybe they would all laugh over it together, if he lived long enough?

Okay, everyone sans Antony. Antony’s facial muscles probably lacked some basic functions, and smiling fell squarely into that category.

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy wasn’t happy to hear their venture described as an effort in futility, and did note, “We got some information, it wasn’t worthless,” sure, that information meant another trip, but that was likely how many of these things were going to go. They shouldn’t consider that futile! Inga most of all should know that, being the scientist here.

Cassidy let herself focus on Inga, because focusing on the number of hunters was, well, not a good thing. ‘How does she do it?’ It baffled Cassidy how Antonia could be so…comfortable with so many hunters around. Hunters, who literally trained to kill vampires, like Antonia. Not to mention, how the hunters themselves just…were also comfortable in such a luxurious place when most looked like they’d do better in a dive bar wearing flannel, smoking, and cursing up a storm.

Strange friends.

Was Antonia often betrayed by them? Was Michael a fluke? From the looks of things, Michael had to be a fluke. That honestly led to more questions than answers. When did this begin? Why did it begin?

Well, perhaps the obvious answer was that Antonia wanted to kill vampires, so why not befriend the best killers of vampires? Cassidy wouldn’t think too hard about that as she made her way over to the couch where Inga and Lilian were, though decided not to sit. “I don’t think it’s just about arguing,” Antonia didn’t seem the sort.

“It’s not,” Tristan popped up, almost out of thin air, though of course that wasn’t accurate. Cassidy just hadn’t noticed him; his hair was a normal color for once, black. He folded his arms over the top of the couch and leaned into it, looking sour, “I gathered enough information to be certain this is where the vast majority of their weird poison – sorry, mutagens,” he wasn’t sorry, “is being held. So, we can’t just go in and blow it up, we need a plan to secure the source for further research and testing. That’s why you’re here, Flower Power.” Although he attempted to grin, and tease, it was evident his heart just wasn’t in it that evening, “We need a good understanding of the locale and how to keep the hunters from blowing it all to kingdom come, because Antonia won’t be able to just talk them down from it for long.”

Cassidy arched a brow, “She’s going to try talking?”

“Always does,” Max noted, coming over, “Inga! Been meaning to talk to you about those results from my blood. Haven’t heard back, wanted to figure out if you figured anything out to solve the mystery of my good behavior.”

Tristan gave him such a look for the interruption, pushed away from the couch, and walked off as if he’d not been there, clearly to go anywhere else. ‘What did he do to you, Tristan?’ Tristan didn’t…typically walk away from people. Then again, she didn’t know Tristan that well.

She also didn’t know this hunter, “Uh, who are you?” Why did he know Inga?

He extended his arm over the couch, “Maxwell, leader of – well, doesn’t much matter to you, does it? Just another of the hunters here,” Cassidy did take his hand to shake, and released soon enough. “You’re?”

“Uh—Cassidy,” she introduced, “Just another vampire here. And this is Lilian.”

“Aah, the star of the hour, the one who got away,” he grinned, “Good on ya for that. Can’t stand idiot hunters like them,” he said, “Not that I’ve known many. Don’t usually last long, really, when they forget vamps were human.”

~***~

“If he starts babbling about Counter Strike, I’ll be amused, Lixin,” Amon noted, because clearly that was the most important thing. “But Counter Strike was years ago, it’s all League of Legends now,” he chuckled. “That’s at least somewhat more interesting than Counter Strike, but not quite as interesting as Kingdom Hearts.” The fact Tristan owned keyblade weapons did not cease to amuse Amon. The fact they were functional was also just as amusing, since Tristan made a point to not do much fighting.

Oh, he could.

He might be rusty – but he could.

“I’m not sure how many of those parties I’ll attend, but I suppose it is one way for you to start looking as if things are normal and fine,” Amon couldn’t counter that, nor could he easily agree to attend. Oh sure, a party always drew him, but there was a literal war going on, and he did have some responsibilities to it.

A party would be a target with this group, and so he did caution, “You may want to be careful, though. These hunters truly aren’t…normal,” he noted, “They would take a party as an invitation, so try not to be too loud about it,” as if Lixin could be anything but loud. “And they’re not nearly as fun as party crashers as some were in the past. Not nearly enough cyberpunk technology, either,” he noted, “though at least they’re willing to keep this secret.”

They could all be grateful for that.

They weren’t going to explode the existence of vampires all over social media anytime soon. Michael at least wanted the masses to stay ignorant.

“Perhaps you ought to make cyberpunk a theme of one, though. Tristan would love that,” not that Lixin was there to make Tristan happy, but if he wanted his attendance, that was one surefire way to get it. “He rather likes all those strange apocalypse things, though. Zombie apocalypse, nuclear apocalypse, I think he even said something about a winter apocalypse? I wasn’t paying attention to that,” something involving a new game. Frostpunk? He wasn’t sure.

If it had ‘punk’ in the title, Tristan was probably there.

“It’d certainly be different from your normal. Perhaps you’d even like that.” The challenge of it, the difference of it – Lixin might find a way to enjoy it for a night…or week.

 

[Syntra]

“Ooo,” Inga made grabby hands, “Nothing like the smell of fresh data early in the evening! Unless, of course, the data somehow relates to sulphur. Sulphur sucks.” Not even humans were deranged enough to call the substance pleasant-smelling, and what did you get when you added their sensitive noses to the equation? A pretty good vamp repellent! Back in the day, when everything had been about mercury and sulphur, Inga had had to bring some very personal sacrifices to the table, including migraines that lasted for days. She didn’t miss those. She also didn’t really miss dealing with Lilian’s hunters, “Okay, Flower Power, your time to shine. You think Antonia can just walk up in there, be like: ‘Have you heard about our Lord and Savior, Common Sense?’ and convince them to give it up?”

That Inga of all people spoke about common sense was real fucking rich, and also what distracted Lilian from having a meltdown over the Flower Power thing. Well… that, and she also may have gotten a little closer to the acceptance stage of her grief journey. What? Not like getting mad over the same thing over and over was fun, “Is she planning to cosplay Michael? It might work then, but otherwise no, not really.”

Inga just shrugged. “Let’s say they’re too busy trying to save their miserable lives. That would take precedence over just about anything, wouldn’t it?”

“In theory? Yeah. In practice, a lot of them would probably be overjoyed to martyr themselves.” Ah, yes, the good ol’ ‘heroic death’ clause! As long as you died fighting vampires, you went straight to heaven. The blood of the sinful cleansed one’s own sins, because… uh, because two negatives made a positive? With the real reason, of course, being that Michael fucking said so. “If they find out that that’s what we are after, you can bet your ass that they’ll make a point of destroying the storage first.”

“So is misdirection what we need?” Inga tilted her head aside, “Antonia talks, the rest of the chess pieces move?”

The conversation was dangerously close to a serious one, with Inga making normal, not at all outlandish points, but of course that that couldn’t last forever. It couldn’t even last for long, as it turned out. “Oh wow, if it isn’t my favorite hunter!” Lilian felt strangely spited at that, and she watched with some amount of resentment as Inga practically jumped from her seat, “Maxie, my friend. I also wanted to talk to you, but Antonia just wouldn’t give me your number. Can you believe? And after we hit it off so well last time, too!” Somehow, the huntress doubted that Inga’s definition of ‘so well’ matched up to that of the rest of the world, “But, no. Not a lot of progress on my side, I’m afraid. The readings were a bit strange, and when I tried to re-take some of the tests, I…” a dramatic pause, “…Dropped the vial. Whoopsie, right?”

More than a whoopsie moment, it was actually a wtf one, at least to anyone who knew the first thing about Inga. The thing was, Max didn’t know her. He didn’t, and also wouldn’t, until she deemed him safe enough. And given that people were usually eager to see her as stupid, just for daring to have an actual personality? It was easy to convince them of exactly that, much like it was easy to shove someone down the stairs when they were already running in that direction.

Most saw what they wanted to see.

Humans and vampires alike.

“Sorry you’re having to deal with my clumsy self, but could I maybe get more of your blood? Later, not now,” because she still lacked some key components, “I will let you know when the time comes.”

Lilian shot a ‘what the hell is this about?’ glance at Cass, as if she wasn’t as clueless as herself.

‘What the hell’ seemed to be the theme of this session in general, though, because Maxie, Inga’s friend, proceeded to say some rather curious stuff. “You mean that is not the usual hunter culture?” she raised her eyebrow, and shook his hand. In hindsight, that… explained a lot of things, like Antonia being able to casually invite so many of them into her home. “Just my luck, I fucking swear. They could have been perfectly sane, but nooo, of course I get stuck with the local psychos. So it’s actually… normal for us to cooperate with vamps? How does that work?”

The situation couldn’t possibly turn even more bizarre in Lilian’s mind, but the universe decided to prove her wrong.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy in a badly fitting tux popped up; if Lilian had to guess, she’d say he was about half a second away from heart attack. Can vamps even die from those?

“Inga, you—!”

Inga just rolled her eyes, “Do you get a kick out of screaming ‘Inga, Inga’ whenever you meet me, Joseph? I assure you, you don't need to remind me what my name is. My mother taught me well enough.”

Joseph didn’t seem appeased by this. “She also should have taught you how to keep your fucking promises,” he spat out. “By which I mean, shouldn’t you be dead by now? Given how you never shut up about it.”

The sweetness of her smile was a warning more than anything else, “What, haven’t had enough funerals to attend recently?”

That Joseph didn’t explode right there was a small miracle, and the ongoing stream of ‘uhhhh?’ in Lilian’s mind only intensified when Inga wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Joe. Don’t be like this! We all know you have no friends, so let’s try and get you some of those. Cassidy over here likes just about anyone; she can probably find it in her heart to not be too disgusted with your pathetic, little bitch self.”

“Inga, what the fu—”

“Say hi to Joseph, Cassidy!” Inga beamed, “My favorite Veturia.” The one she couldn’t fucking kill, for better or worse. That there was no anti-bullying clause was a small, yet heartwarming blessing, “His skills include impotent anger, attracting Amon’s attention, and… not much else, really.”

~***~

“I don’t get what’s so appealing about all of those,” Lixin whined. “You just sit in front of a box and stare, and that is supposed to be fun?” Oh sure, he knew the real draw was the so-called ‘gameplay,’ but the idea of pressing some buttons in time with the footage didn’t feel all too riveting, either. “Amon, the point of undeath is to live. Go out, do things we are going to regret, and then do even stupider things to forget about the aforementioned regrets. Why do you think we’re nigh indestructible, hm? And then people like Tristan waste it on grinding levels and cheating at microtransactions.”

Then again, it was probably for the best that Tristan had something to distract himself with. The last time he’d followed one of his more grownup passions... hadn’t gone over too well, for pretty much everyone involved.

Even Lixin had had to get physical, and there were few things Lixin hated more than fighting.

Orange, for one. Where videogames were the death of art, orange was the death of taste. Who the fuck had approved the color? Its existence alone was the proof that gods didn’t care about their subjects all that much.

“What happened to the more the merrier?” Lixin gave an impish smile, “I have never minded company, human or vampire. But, do tell me about those hunters. What’s so special about them?”

Admittedly, Oksana had warned him about a hunter group a few months ago, but Oksana worried about so many pointless things that he’d had trouble paying attention to the report. Come to think of it, she also might have mentioned something serious-sounding? Which was possibly the worst strategy ever, because his brain had developed to chuck all the serious things straight into the ‘Deleted’ folder.

He wasn’t the leader of the Bayons to work.

He was everyone’s inspiration! The guiding light!

Having duties to attend to would just dampen his shine.

“But now you are talking, Amon. A dystopia-themed party!” The stars in his eyes hinted that this was a terrible idea, actually, “One of the groups could start out in prison, and they’d have to fight their way out. The other would be composed of the regime bootlickers, and… hmm. Do you think holding a death match or two would be too much?” Lixin didn’t personally think so, but he also knew that people had grown somewhat soft in the last two centuries. Suddenly, it was less of a ‘for the glory of my homeland!’ and more of a ‘fuck no, I’m not gonna destroy my manicure.’

It was as convenient as it was annoying.

“Of course, I’m no barbarian,” he reassured his friend, “Participating in that would be fully voluntary! There might even be a consolation prize for the family of the one who gets killed.”

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy did arch a brow at this Max situation. A vampire hunter who was a vampire? Well, stranger things had happened, that was for sure. She did wonder what it was Inga was researching, but didn’t find herself surprised by the fact Antonia refused to help in a meaningful way by giving her access to Max. Cassidy wasn’t surprised by any roadblocks that Antonia put up to anything, though. She was just consistently surprised when Antonia was helpful.

And Max did just laugh at Inga’s clumsiness, “No worries, I can give you more at another time, I can give you my number, too. Keep Antonia out of it,” he chuckled, “I’m sure she has her reasons and I’ll regret this – lord knows what they are.”

Cassidy caught Lilian’s look and could only shrug, before placing a hand on Lilian’s back, just as confused as she was over all of this. Even the bit about this being normal, or at least, not abnormal, which Max was willing enough to address for Lilian, “No, not…not exactly,” he emphasized. “So, way I’ve seen it, there’s a few main types of hunters. You have your local psychopaths who think they need to purge vampires entirely, usually religious nutcases, no reasoning with them. Then you have your vengeful hunters who got into it because a vamp did them wrong. Usually solo, but sometimes they make groups. Then there’s the family business – more or less what my group is, people who’ve been in this for decades. Family business goes a few ways, more often than not, we’re mercenaries. We make money on this. Some of us, the smart ones, work for vamps that are loaded and need to keep the secret of their existence from the public eye, so they pay us to deal with nuisances. Others work with humans, but same idea – we get paid to kill vamps, and we get paid pretty damn well.”

Considering his benefactor was Antonia, there was no doubt about that at all, Cassidy reckoned. Even if he definitely wasn’t wearing Gucci.

“Nutcases like Michael are dangerous to all of us, since we’re all trying to keep this on the downlow; humanity ain’t ready to deal with vampires, hate to say it, and the more Michael presses shit, the more likely this is to explode.”

Cassidy nodded, but frowned. “As far as I could tell, this group…doesn’t seem to want to cause any issues like that? They had opportunities in Vegas.”

“They probably don’t,” he agreed, “but when you decide genocide is okay, you’re gonna end up causing problems like that since vamps gotta defend themselves and they may reveal themselves inadvertently,” he leaned against the couch, “What were you all doing in Vegas with these hunters?”

‘Fuck.’ Cassidy shouldn’t have said that. “We weren’t there for them, I was actually just visiting my sire and Lilian came along as moral support.”

“Huh.” Cassidy was pretty sure he didn’t buy it, but he apparently wasn’t willing to press, waving it off, “Sorry your relationship is shitty enough to need that. Least you got one, though.”

“You…don’t?”

“The relationship ended when he got a stake in his heart, so no, not really.” Max laughed.

That was when Joseph showed up, which did cause a bit of a disruption as Cassidy’s attention was taken from Max to Joseph, as he was introduced to them. She knew of him, he was in enough memes.

“Er.” How was she supposed to address this? She did reach to take his hand, but was prepared to snap it back if he showed any hint he didn’t want to do this, “Hi, Joseph. Attracting Amon’s attention actually seems like a pretty notable skill, though, er…I don’t know why you have?” As if Joseph would know, she phrased it as a question.

Was her job now obligatory friend to the downtrodden?

~***~

“So, are we going to get this started, or are we waiting on anyone else?” Tristan complained, plopping into a seat near Antonia, who was not sitting, but standing, talking with a few other hunters in lowered tones. She still acknowledged Tristan by looking away from them, arching a brow at his attitude. “Lilian’s here.”

“Ah,” Antonia supposed that was the last one she was waiting on.

“Already told her what the deal is – you’re welcome,” Tristan noted, “seems you didn’t really explain anything.”

Antonia rolled her eyes, “Didn’t we have a discussion about information not long ago, and leaking it?”

Tristan just handwaved that comment, clearly not caring about anything useful he may have said right then. Antonia made a note he really was off that evening, but it wasn’t her problem if Tristan wanted to throw an attitude all night. She’d already promised him he didn’t have to fight.

“Which one is this Lilian?” Jasmine asked, glancing over the crowd. She was indeed an elder, among humans, her once dark hair now completely gray, though one would still be hard-put to guess her age. Her dark skin hid the lines well.

Antonia gestured out towards the group around Inga, “The only human there,” and then she sighed, “and Joseph.” She was still annoyed that Joseph was sent. She was annoyed with all the Veturia in her house, quite honestly, but she had to pretend like she was oh, so, grateful to them for joining the war effort, even if she hoped they all died by a stray Molotov cocktail.

Jasmine chucked, “Tux boy? I see him. Ain’t even gonna ask,” she patted Antonia’s shoulder, “I think we’re all ready when you are,” she walked to rejoin the crowd, but lingered closer to the couch than others.

Antonia didn’t even have to ask why as she turned to Tristan, “Go get the projector set up, I’ll call things to order.”

Not that she’d really have to call it to order. She just had to lift a hand, and let that natural influence seep out. Heads turned naturally, and tongues began to silence themselves.

~***~

‘You watch television, how do you not get the allure?’ Amon didn’t ask, it would be a question for another day, when he actually cared about the answer. Everyone had their quirks. Amon definitely couldn’t argue that. If somehow watching shows made sense and video games didn’t, why not?

Besides, Amon didn’t really want Tristan to go back to having mature interests. That ended poorly for everyone. He was just as aware of that as Lixin, so he let that drop with a chuckle, and a shake of his head at Lixin’s ignorance of the hunter situation.

“My my, you really are out of the loop, and for once it’s serious,” which, Amon knew as well, was the trigger word to remove Lixin’s attention. Still, he dared to draw close to steal it back, reaching his hands out to rest his arms on Lixin’s shoulders, not at all caring about the proximity or personal space. He leaned his weight into the arms, grounding himself.

Grounding Lixin in the inanity of it.

“They have a God, Lixin. Or what passes for a God, nowadays. I’m calling it Apep to amuse myself, but it’s not – and you know Antonia would never humor calling something Cain or Cain adjacent without good reason, the name is practically sacred.” Despite never holding an Abrahamic faith.

The severity, thus, was quite real. Quite important.

“And I’d rather not get into another scuffle with a god over things I’ve claimed, like your life, so do try to avoid the hunters,” he removed his arms, his weight, only to flick Lixin’s nose with a finger as he stepped away, and went back to lounge on the couch, throwing his legs up over the arm of it. “I am curious what Oksana’s said. I’m curious if she’s aware of what you’ve done, too. You should keep those kinds of people informed, you know.”

As for death matches, “You really ought to watch Squid Games,” he chuckled, “you wouldn’t even have to promise anything to the losers to get them to play, just promise enough money for a winner. I’m sure it could be pulled off,” he agreed, “humans don’t appreciate their lives enough as it is.”

 

[Syntra]

Wow, so I really was stuck with psychos. The sad reality was that she had been something of a psycho, as well, with the only caveat being that her human-to-nutjob transformation hadn’t been quite as successful for some reason. Why? What had saved her? Lilian still didn’t know, but something told her it was much closer to coincidence than she would have liked. A coin toss. Heads, and you end up normal; tails, you get brainwashed. Pick your prize, kids! Except they didn’t fucking get to pick. Many hadn’t been nearly so lucky as her, and now… now they were going to die. Had to die, really. Her feeling the way she did changed remarkably little about a) them needing the samples, b) Michael being his asshole self, c) the thing lurking in those catacombs being, well, a thing. Ends, means, anyone? Don’t think of Maria. “Yeah, genocide might have vamps act sliiightly unreasonable,” she agreed, in part to escape the guilt, “Who would have fucking thought?”

Not her hunters, apparently. Lilian hadn’t, either; to her, they’d been the real life equivalent of a monster under her bed, and you just… didn’t think about how that monster might feel when you killed its mommy, or what its favorite movie was.

Once you did, it stopped being a monster.

Inevitably, it had to turn into something else, which was the real problem.

Wait, so he’s a vampire as well? Lilian usually could tell, thanks to that handy little ability of hers, but in a room chock full of vampires, it could be somewhat hard to distinguish who was and wasn’t one. Not sure if I wanna know that story, though. And yeah, she likely did not, given that Max offing his sire spoke volumes about just how much he’d appreciated the deed. “Seems like you had a fun start to your new life,” she said, because just shutting the fuck up for once was apparently too hard. Great first impression right there! Winning friends left and right!

Can someone please kill me?

“Sorry,” she sighed, “Sometimes I speak before I think.”

“I wish I had that kinda relationship with my sire,” Inga interjected, still draped all over Joseph, “But the fucker didn’t even stick around long enough for me to kill them. Like, hello? At least stay for long enough to tell a girl that sunlight is a no-no now? Not gonna lie, that did ruin several of my days.”

Lilian just stared, “Wait, you… had no idea you got turned?”

“Pretty much,” Inga confirmed. “It’s not the first explanation that comes to mind. I mean, what would you think if you woke up after supposedly dying? That you somehow survived, or that you won the undeath lottery?”

“Survival seems… more likely.”

“Exactly.”

“So, when did you notice?”

“Probably when I flew off the handle and murdered all those people who questioned my alive status?” Inga shrugged, “Most of them my dear friends. That I couldn’t stop myself from drinking the blood was a solid clue, too. Really pointed me right to the ‘monster’ conclusion!”

“Oh.” Yeah, fucking oh. Lilian hadn’t thought she would ever sympathize with Inga of all people, with her weird ramblings and weird everything, but the snippet showed her a side of hers that she hadn’t really considered. Fucking duh, though? That the same Inga who openly daydreamed about her own fucking death had some baggage shouldn’t have been nearly so shocking. “Shit, I keep stepping on everyone’s toes tonight.”

“Not on mine,” Inga waved her hand, “You didn’t torture me to get the info, Lils-Lils. Besides, it’s not like it’s a secret.”

It couldn’t be, because secrecy would imply that she still cared. That the skeleton lingered in her closet, instead of chilling in the ground. Which, obviously not true! Her talking about it so openly meant it was one of those ‘haha, crazy, right?’ stories that you told your friends and then had a laugh over, not a source of lasting trauma. With this simple lifehack, you could get rid of all your issues in one fell swoop!

In theory, anyway.

But theories were all Inga had, and so she clung to this one for dear life.

Meanwhile, Joseph did shake Cassidy’s hand, mainly because he had no idea what else to do. When someone extended a hand, you had to take it, right? Good manners, anyone? And this Cassidy also seemed way less fucked in the head than most people here, even if the bar for that was absurdly low. “Joseph Hartmann,” he said, somewhat stiff. Inga refusing to let go did little for his composure as it was, but another mention of Amon’s name seemed to push all kinds of buttons and his already impossibly red face somehow grew even redder, “Well, fuck me if I know! He keeps offering me things and calling me cute, but I assure you, I’m not fucking cute. I’m terrifying.”

“He’s not used to people actually liking him and so his brain’s software is going haywire,” Inga said, not at all projecting, “I think he just needs a restart.”

“Your entire existence should be restarted, Miss Would-Be-Goddess.”

“It’s Valkyrie, Joseph. Val-ky-rie.”

“Not like all celestial bullshit isn’t the same!” he shouted. “Now, let go of me before I tear your spine out. I’m not fucking joking, Inga. I’m this close to—”

“Aww, so what I’m hearing is that little Josie wants to learn to fly?”

“…What?”

But, both surprisingly and also somehow not, Inga was already lifting him high in the air, “So that you can actually reach my spine. See, I’m helping! Who’s the best murder victim ever?”

“What the actual fuck!” Joseph cried out. “You stupid bitch, if you don’t release me right fucking now—”

But that was when Antonia came into her field of vision, and Inga indeed did let go, looking remarkably like a highschooler who had just been caught cheating on a test. That the poor man’s landing wasn’t all too graceful went without saying, “Antonia, wonderful to see you again!” the blonde waved, doing her best to appear as if she had nothing to do with Joseph trying to collect himself off the floor.

And, hey, perhaps it would have worked!

If not for the fact that literally everyone had seen.

Lilian, who had no fucking idea what to say at this point, also turned to face Antonia. “Thank god,” she sighed, “This was turning into total anarchy way too fast for my liking. Hello, Antonia. I assume you have some plan?”

She always seemed to, so Lilian was likely there to help with the details.

~***~

Serious. Lixin could physically feel his attention drifting away, but that it was Amon saying this helped, as well as the touch. So, yes! He did actually listen! Before inevitably deciding that, no, it couldn’t actually be this bad, “Don’t these types always have gods?” he raised an eyebrow. “Favorite gods, favorite blessings, favorite excuses.” It was harder to find hunters that didn’t have some higher entity backing them, mostly because trying to murder them was such an insane goal to begin with.

Prey, hunting the real hunters.

How silly was that?

As a fan of absurdism, Wang Lixin almost approved. That little ‘almost’ would have been a ‘definitely’ for sure, if only the prey they had chosen didn’t happen to be him and his friends. Oh sure, some of them did need killing; the problem was, the hunters never seemed to go after those types. Ones such as Isolde were well-protected. Ones such as him were, too. What they usually got was the small fries, and there was nothing too heroic about that.

Discounting the warning would have been all too easy, if not for the look in Amon’s eyes. He actually means it. Apep was invoked as well, and wasn’t that interesting? No, not really. Amon would have found a way to bring ancient Egypt up in a discussion about curling if he so desired, but the admission that he only did it for the laughs was what convinced Lixin that there was something about this threat in particular that ought to be... well, taken seriously? For the lack of a better word. “Seems like you’re playing a dangerous game,” he chuckled. “Can’t say I find that too appealing. Alright, I promise to try and stay away from whatever you’re doing. Throwing away a life that isn’t mine to give wouldn’t be the polite thing to do.”

Not to mention, Lixin still didn’t feel like dying. Many vamps had grown somewhat tired of life, but he still had things to do! Hearts to conquer! He hadn’t written his latest play to not see it performed, dammit.

“No, Oksana doesn't know. Dragging her into it didn't feel fair. And she said the usual things,” he waved his hand, “That it should be investigated further and that the apocalypse is coming. Doom and gloom; terror and strife; corpses littering the streets. Same old, same old. But, given that it might be closer to reality than usual, would you like to borrow some of my soldiers?”

Not that the Bayons were famous for those, but exceptions were always a thing. Oksana’s brothers, for one.

The smile returned to his lips, “They truly don’t. Why do you think they’re like that, Amon? Perhaps they live too close to death to truly mind it?”

Always shrouded in its shadow, maybe mortals had just… gotten used to it. Accepted it, the same way you might accept a business deal from the shady gentlemen willing to break your legs if you didn’t pay them for protection.

Not every choice really was one.

 

[Lucyfer]

“I think Amon is the sort to think a crocodile is cute, Joseph, so I wouldn’t take too much of what he says seriously,” Cassidy tried to even it out, “I don’t think Amon has a good sense of what cute means anymore, with how…old he is.” Likely anything that wasn’t a threat to him was cute, and Cassidy doubted Joseph really considered he was a threat to Amon. Sure, he was angry and clearly agitated, but did that translate to also being irrationally stupid? Possibly, but the line around ‘kicking Amon’s ass’ seemed like a safe one to draw for even the most insane vampires.

At least she was feeling a little better about Silvon. He hadn’t tried to kill her. Or left her to figure out sunlight was bad all on her own. Those were decent points in his favor.

And then, Joseph was hefted up. “Inga!” Cassidy cried out in dismay, “Let him down!” Okay, perhaps her role really was obligatory friend to the downtrodden.

Antonia’s wasn’t, but the look she gave suggested she was very displeased. Likely not because Joseph was hefted up, likely because it was just such a social faux pas, in her mansion. Hardly acceptable. At least Inga put him down, and looked a little chastised.

Cassidy gave Joseph an apologetic look, as if it would help anything, while Max was fighting back laughter and failing miserably at it. He wasn’t spared The Look either, but it didn’t quell the snickers.

Antonia wouldn’t address it, though.

She nodded to Inga’s greeting, before letting her attention slide easily to Lilian, “I do have some ideas, but your expertise is welcome,” she gestured for Lilian to come forward as the room quieted and a projector put up the image of the bar on the large, blank wall in the room. “It’s the Ninth Heaven we’re targeting,” Antonia told the gathered. The imagery moved, a video showcasing first the outside of the bar, before going within.

“How the fuck did you get this footage?” Max asked, bewildered.

“None of your concern,” was Tristan’s chilled response. It likely wasn’t a camera on a human, the height varied immensely throughout, but seemed to go through the entirety of the bar. If anyone ever really wondered why Tristan was feared in vampire circles, this was one of the many answers – his adoption of modern technology surpassed most vampires, and it was also disturbing to most.

That he wasn’t blackmailing half of them was nothing short of a miracle.

Antonia gave a short nod at that, “This is not, unfortunately, just a hack and slash mission. Behind the bar, in the black mini-fridge, are vials crucial to our understanding of the hunters, as well as in this back room,” which was now being shown, “these aren’t chilled, I have no idea why there’s a difference,” that wasn’t her job, and perhaps there was no reason to it – like chilling water had no real purpose.

“The hunters will be unlikely to let this go, and may even attempt to destroy the vials once they realize those are, in fact, the goal,” and not much else, “The Ninth Heaven is also in a fairly busy part of town, but Amon’s pulled strings to the police force to have it emptier than usual tomorrow night by, ah, advertising random vehicle stops and checks for drunk drivers around the surrounding area.”

That gave them some wiggle room for what they could and couldn’t do.

“So how do you intend to rectify the problem of getting the vials from the hunters?” Jasmine spoke up to ask.

She gestured to Lilian, “You understand them better than I. We have the visuals to plan movements. We’ll need at least two groups for the sets to focus on the vials, and the rest of us, to deal with the hunter presence and serve as distraction. I believe it should fall to other hunters to take the vials, but I am open to alternatives if you see another way through this, Lilian.” Antonia indicated.

She at least knew the situation now: which bar it was, what they were looking at so far as activity around the area, and the two sets and their locations.

~***~

‘When have I not?’ Amon wondered if he’d ever been known as a vampire who did things safely or sanely. He didn’t think his history would show that, nor all the rumors about him. He had a reputation, one he did not intend to squander. At least Lixin understood not to go throwing away his life when it was owed to another was a poor decision. Amon would find a way to haunt the dead.

He always found ways to do insane things.

At the offer to borrow soldiers, Amon couldn’t help but bark a laugh, and shake his head, terribly amused, “Forgive me, Lixin, but I won’t be borrowing anything from you for a very long time, particularly individuals trained to kill. It’s not that I’m concerned about them, but killing several vampires all at once in my own home when they try to kill me does bring up questions, and trials, and I do hate trials.”

Lixin may indeed have made an honest mistake with the Maechae, and with Isolde, but Amon wasn’t an idiot: he wasn’t going to trust Lixin, the Maechae, or any of the Bayons with his life. It only took once. That was always the problem. Lixin could try again, too. There was no real proof he’d turned on Isolde just yet.

No real proof he wouldn’t turn back to her, either. She had a powerful tool to wield.

“But I’m not sure what causes some humans to be so fearless. I think they’re not, really…more that they can’t conceptualize death happening to them. They’ve avoided it for so many years, they’ll avoid it for longer. They have too many things they’ve dreamt up to die now! That usually seems to be the case,” dying with so many regrets and unlived dreams, because they would have time for it.

Humans were strange that way.

Then again, Amon supposed he’d always die with unlived dreams. That was how he kept living – he kept dreaming.

“Perhaps you should ask them, as part of their interviewing process for your games,” he chuckled. “You can play the answers whenever someone dies.”

 

[Syntra]

Joseph gave Inga a look that promised his revenge would be sweet… once it came, which, unfortunately for him, wouldn’t be very soon. Definitely not now, with Antonia and everyone watching, and probably also not later, given Inga’s recent, uh, activities. Hanging out with her one-on-one had always been something of a risk; now, however, it straight up seemed like suicide. Then again, a lot of things seemed to be suicide for the Veturia nowadays. Going to a party? Suicide. Relaxing for a second? Suicide. Getting promoted? Assisted suicide! Since it was technically Isolde who put you in that position. The last person to be offered the dubious honor was Matteo’s friend László, who had, predictably enough, remembered that he had some urgent unfinished business in Europe all of a sudden and fucked off before Isolde could think to accuse him of treason. Three others had followed in his footsteps, probably sensing they were higher up the promotion list than they would have liked. Well, at least Joseph didn’t have to worry about that?

For him, promotion just wasn’t in the cards.

Sending him to work with the Lenart bitch and her lackeys apparently was, though.

Fucking sigh.

“How the hell do you put up with her?” he asked Cassidy, in whom he’d found an unexpected kindred spirit, “She’s always been an asshole, but I swear she’s somehow gotten even worse over the years.”

Inga likely would have considered that to be a compliment had she been listening, which she was definitely not. Already, she was preoccupied with the real problem here: On a scale of one to ten, how mad is Antonia? Yes, ‘how mad,’ not ‘is she mad.’ Anger seemed to be her default state, and as long as it didn’t exceed the usual values, it was probably fine. Right? Right!

Lilian couldn’t say that she liked the idea of speaking in front of so many people; it resembled those cliché nightmares of giving a speech naked way too closely for her comfort, and she’d had enough nightmare situations for the rest of her life. Then again, wouldn’t protesting it be even more embarrassing? Sometimes, you just… had to suck these things up. Determined to do just that, she walked up to the projector, “Oh yeah, I know that place,” the huntress nodded. “The security isn’t too shabby, and I imagine they’ve only ramped it up since then. Look,” Lilian pointed at a few inconspicuous spots at the walls, “Cameras. Maybe our tech wizards,” a meaningful glance at Tristan, “Could have those disabled? If they can’t see what we’re doing inside, what our real goal is should be a little less obvious.”

No shit!

But, moving onto the less obvious stuff.

“It probably won’t surprise you that there’s a protocol for these things,” there always was, “And the protocol says that bombing the place is better than for it to fall into enemy hands. I’m not using any metaphors here, there literally are bombs.”

Inga raised her hand, “What bombs?”

“Do I look like a fucking explosives expert? The ones that go boom, Inga.”

“Really, Lils-Lils?” the disappointment in her voice was palpable, “Not even the most basic categorization? I suppose they have to be relatively stable if they keep them in such a busy place, so it should be easy to—”

“Is there a point to this, or do you just want to gush over bombs?”

“If you waited for like five seconds,” Inga rolled her eyes, “I would get to my point, which is that I can disable them before the mission even begins.”

“And you expect not to be noticed how?”

Inga’s smile wasn’t exactly pretty, “Believe me, I have my ways.”

“That… would be helpful if you can pull it off, yes. But that aside,” Lilian looked back at Antonia, and then glanced at the unknown faces in the crowd: “I agree, it would be better for hunters to secure the vials. They can probably infiltrate the bar before anyone realizes something is off, and vamps will make for better distractions.” Translation: they were inherently less breakable. Less likely to die. “Looking at the entrances and exits, we can form enough groups to surround them from all sides. If the bombs really won’t work…”

“They won’t!”

Lilian proceeded to ignore Inga ostentatiously, “They will default to the usual things, so expect Molotov cocktails and stakes. Nothing too weird, unless Michael decides to go all in and turn everyone into monsters.”

Which very well could happen.

That ‘everyone’ included her as well wasn’t too reassuring.

Fucking hell! Hunters had few job certainties as it was, but that was crossing all kinds of lines.

“I heard you wanted to talk first, Antonia? I do know them better, so maybe we can work out some points that will keep them interested enough to actually discuss shit with you.”

Perhaps a stretch to offer help with that, but it was worth a try.

“Mikey boy seems real obsessed with me personally, so I guess you could try to use me as a bargaining chip?”

~***~

“Please, Amon. Do you think I’d try to kill you in such an underhanded way? If I ever thought of that,” which he wouldn’t, just for the record, “I’d challenge you to a public duel.” One hundred percent true, by the way! If Wang Lixin ever got this suicidal, he’d want for his death to be a spectacle. An ode to life. Therefore, he would do everything in his power to make it as flashy as possible; sell tickets, accept bets, maybe make his followers fight for the position of the next Bayon leader, just for the hell of it. Wouldn’t that be fun?

Granted, not as fun as actually living. It was a solid plan B, though!

I’ll jot that down, in case I ever change my mind.

Or in case his mind ever changed him, which seemed to happen just about every other Thursday. For some reason, his Thursdays were always reserved for existential crises.

“Could be,” Lixin nodded, “But perhaps they are just better at it. At dying. I mean, isn’t that kind of smart? You only live for seventy years or so, and then you kick the bucket. A clear cut. With a life this short, you can’t possibly manage to make a fool out of yourself, so you die a wise man. The methodology does seem to have some appeal to it.”

With that, he rose from his seat, “But, Amon! Given that you’re spending the day here, would you like to see my newest play? We were meant to rehearse it before you and Antony decided to visit,” a fun little euphemism for ‘before you almost executed me,’ “So I guess we can still do that now.” His smile turned a little sheepish, “You won’t believe this, but I talked Oksana into accepting the lead role. Oh, how she struggled! I have no talent this, you can’t make me that – she was being so dramatic about it that I just knew I was going to turn her into a star." Lixin winked, "Be nice to her? She won't admit it, but I can tell that, deep down, she's actually pretty shy."

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy shrugged at Joseph’s question. Part of it could be proximity and how much time she spent with Inga, which wasn’t much. The other part could be the fact Inga saved Lilian. She also just wasn’t much of an asshole to Cassidy? There was no lifting her up and embarrassing her in front of an entire crowd going on. That might have invoked a bit of hatred. “She doesn’t treat me like she treats you,” was the best way to put it, “and I’m not sure your history to know how, um, appropriate she thinks it is to treat you that way,” she didn’t actually think Inga liked him. The Veturia thing was kind of a red flag, from what bits and pieces she’d gathered. “It also doesn’t look like you’re trying to be friends with her, so….” that was another problem with treatment and how it was proceeding between the two of them.

It was easier to stand someone when you both treated each other like friends, or at least friendly acquaintances, and made boundaries known pretty quickly, or on the spot when necessary.

But the conversation wouldn’t go much further, as Cassidy’s attention was drawn to Lilian introducing more about the scene, the hunters, and what could be done to secure the vials.

Tristan nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry about those, they’ll be down a couple minutes before things shoot off.” He was already aware of them, of course. Already had scanned the information he needed from the cameras to make sure they’d be down on time.

There was the additional problem of bombs, which it seemed Inga think she could handle. Antonia had her doubts, somewhat aware of Inga’s skill, but wondering how she’d actually do it in the midst of everything without getting caught. The hunters were likely to at least be present in the area. Antonia could hold attention, but nothing was guaranteed, and it only took one bomb going off.

She put a pin in that.

Lilian wanted to surround them. Antonia knew the idea had merit, even if she’d prefer to get as many of them outside as possible. Less chance of anything happening to the vials that way. Lilian even had an idea for that, which wasn’t a terrible one.

Antonia knew that Michael was obsessed, after all


At least all the hunters were aware of the mutation situation, but Max still voiced, “Hold on a sec,” he interrupted, “I know a bit about the mutations going on, but what’s this about monsters? Do the mutations go that far?”

“Some,” Antonia indicated, “I haven’t seen much of it personally, mostly hunters out of their mind acting a bit like zombies, but I do know it goes beyond that,” Lilian’s situation with the thorns, “Michael may have some influence over the progression. We are not expecting him, but that does not mean he won’t be there. Generally speaking, he isn’t found in the bars.” Image was everything, after all. He had to appear sober and put together.

“Lilian, I suspect you know what you’re suggesting, but let me lay it out: your thoughts are to have me offer you to the hunters as a way to appease them and attempt to win over their good favor again?” That would be logical, if Antonia gave any fucks about it.

“Why would the rank and file listen?” One of the hunters asked.

“Oh, they’ll listen,” Max chuckled, “Though you probably need some back-up, just in case. I can tag along for that part of things. Can’t really infiltrate the bar with the others anymore,” he noted.

~***~

Wang Lixin might indeed do that, if he was ever suicidal. Amon didn’t at all doubt his ability to kill Lixin, and he was fairly sure Lixin didn’t doubt it, either. Lixin may have been an ancient, but he wasn’t a fighter. Amon had been all his life, and would be until he died. It was just the way of things way back then. You learned to fight, or you died.

Still, he chuckled at the thought of humans not making fools of themselves, “Lixin, you truly need to get out more and mingle with humans. They make fools of themselves plenty,” especially police and politicians, and Amon knew too many of both, “Still, I suppose they can’t make quite as big of fools of themselves as we can.”

Their short lives aided that.

Like Oksana, acting in a play. He didn’t really believe that. Or believe it was good. He arched a brow, intrigued enough by the mere thought he could be wrong, and rose, “Oh, very well. I’m morbidly curious about how good an actress Oksana is, or whether she’ll be the next vampiric fool,” it might be kind to lie her…but Amon wouldn’t do that.

She’d been lied to – or really, omitted from things – enough for a bit.

“Lead the way, Lixin,” he gestured. “I’ll try to be nice.”

 

[Syntra]

Joseph looked a bit surprised at the revelation that Inga was apparently only a part-time asshole, rather than a full-time one. "She's... not like this for everyone? How the fuck do you unlock that mode?" Because he'd tried. Damn it, he really had! They'd both joined the Veturia around the same time, with Inga actually being his senior, and he'd wanted to have a decent relationship with his comrades back then.

"Go find some friends," Tyr had said, "It'll be fun. Don't you know, Joseph? You're never alone when you have a family."

And that could have been true for him, had he been stuck with literally anyone but Matteo 'I have a stick up my ass' Ariotti, and Inga 'Certified Nutjob' Singedottir. Family, pfft! Matteo had always thought he was so smart, with his pretty words and prettier lies, and Inga... continued to be Inga, which really was self-explanatory.

Nope, he wasn't bitter about this. Feelings other than anger were for suckers, and Joseph Hartmann wasn't a fucking sucker.

He just... might have wondered what was so wrong with him?

A little bit.

Not that Inga was a good litmus test for normal people behavior, but there were certain parallels with her approach and how the rest of the Veturia treated him on the regular.

"Get lost, Joseph!"

"Not now."

"What do you mean, dying in a pointless mission isn't the biggest honor ever? Besides, lady Isolde said so."

Everyone complained about Isolde not being present enough, but somehow, she always found the time to fuck him over, personally. He wished he could say that being sent to work with the one who was murdering the fuck out of them for fun was the last straw, but more than that, it was just a small, insignificant piece in the shit-stained mosaic called 'Joseph Hartmann's unlife.'

Fuck all of them.

Well, maybe not this Cassidy?

"Trust me, you don't wanna know what our history is," Joseph sighed, "Most of it is pretty boring."

He might have said more then, but that was when the discussion truly started, and interrupting it didn't feel like the best of ideas. It had never been one during the Veturia meetings, and so Joseph did what he did during those: turned on his mental screen saver.

The camera talk attracted Inga's attention, "You think you can let me see the footage, Tristan? The hunters' footage, not what you just showed. If I could actually take a look at the bombs, and determine what they do aside from going boom," the smile she gave Lilian was so sharp it could cut glass, "I'd have a much easier time with this."

Of course, it wasn't just about that. Perhaps even more than identification, it was also about locating them in advance; nutjob or not, Inga didn't really feel like playing hide and seek with explosives when she actually wasn't trying to die for once.

Lilian, who didn't actually give two fucks about winning Inga's approval, just shrugged. "Again, sorry for not being a bomb disposal expert. Not all of us had god-knows-how-many centuries to fuck around and learn pointless shit for fun, Inga."

"Pointless!" Inga had never been more insulted in her entire life, and it showed. She considered fainting for the dramatic effect, but thought better of it upon realizing that a) falling off a couch wouldn't be nearly climactic enough, b) nobody would catch her. Plus, she didn't need Antonia to see her in more embarrassing situations. "I'll have you know, the bomb disposal shit is one of the least pointless things I have learned. I'd get it if you said it about one of my spider farms--"

Your what? Lilian, and likely many others in the room thought. Several other questions popped into her mind, but since asking them would inevitably translate into her having to listen to Inga's answers, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"--But the bombs? It's the 21st century, Lils-Lils. A girl has to know how to take care of such things," at least if she was using them to murder her enemies, which Inga may or may not have been doing.

Heh.

Ancient grudges, modern solutions!

"Anyway," Lilian turned back to Antonia, "That's exactly what I'm suggesting. Why not? You just know they'll love to see me," much like a cat always loved to see a mouse, "And I'm just one hunter. On the battlefield, I wouldn't make that much of a difference. If you use me as bait, though," her smile grew a little bit wider, "That'll be more interesting, don't you think? To make it believable, you could say I was too much trouble. Too difficult to work with. Maybe I even murdered someone you care about, because I still think vampires are icky. I can go with you, and pretend to be... I don't know, drugged?"

That way, she'd also be there to help protect Antonia in case shit went south. Somehow, Lilian didn't think the vampiress was much of a fighter; not when her first instinct back at that fucking church had been to flee.

 

[Lucyfer]

“Yeah,” Tristan agreed, “Didn’t really see the bombs on them, but they’re probably in there,” he wasn’t looking for bombs, but pointing cameras at them was a good idea, so they could see if anyone did mess with them. Inga would recognize these sorts of things easier than he would, anyways. He was more a Molotov cocktail guy.

Of course, Lilian chimed up to interrupt the flow, and Antonia considered just blasting the room with terror to get everyone to shut the fuck up, but she refrained, and waited, thankful Lilian did not, in fact, ask about the spider farms. That would’ve been far too much for this meeting’s attention span.

Lilian offered reasons for why Antonia would resort to giving her up, which almost caused her to snort. She didn’t, of course, “Trust me, Lilian, I can think of reasons on my own,” reasons the hunters would buy, as well. Well, Michael would buy, almost all of them ending with she wanted his hunters back to kill the Veturia because there was someone she just couldn’t reach. That didn’t matter, though. Those other hunters wouldn’t care about that reasoning, but she could still talk them into listening.

“We’ll have to feign drugging you, as well as Cassidy.”

Cassidy whipped her head around at that, “Wait, what?”

“They want both of you,” Antonia said, “They’re hardly going to listen to me if I just bring one. Max, you’ll have Cassidy. That’ll be reason enough for you to be there besides being obvious back-up.”

“Roger,” Max agreed, saluting with two fingers, “I can handle that.”

“Er…so are we just…supposed to act weak and out of it?”

“Unless you would like to actually be weak and out of it, I’m sure Inga could arrange something.”

“No, no!” Cassidy held up her hands quickly, “I can act weak and out of it. Or just out of it,” that would probably be easier, just feign being unconscious.

“Great! Don’t worry, I won’t drop ya,” Max promised, and Cassidy sighed, not in doubt, just in frustration at the situation. “We’ll figure it all out tomorrow, bindings and whatnot, make sure they’re loose enough you can slip free as soon as needed.”

“I’ll slip my way into the bar, with my hunters,” Jasmine volunteered from the side.

The other groups began to sort themselves out, vampires and hunters alike. The wolves would not be joining this one, which was a shame in a way, but it was the only way Antonia was keeping Maechae additions out of it. Felix was able to make up a BS reason and his lead was followed.

Whether or not the Maechae additions would have actually been dangerous, she didn’t care. It was enough to show them she had no plans to put them into further harm, even at a risk to herself.

Tristan would honor his word to let Inga see what she needed to, and eventually, everyone filed out to go about their own preparations.

 

[Syntra]

"Aww," Inga interjected, "You sure you don't wanna be weak and out of it? I have this really fun prototype poison that I haven't quite tested out yet, and this would be the perfect opportunity to--"

Lilian didn't need to hear more than 'prototype' and 'not tested out' for the warning bells in her head to start going off, though the 'poison' part buried the already slim fucking chance of her ever considering the offer. "Are you sure you don't wanna be dead, Inga?"

"I mean," the blonde gave a bright smile, "Not really, but is anything in life ever certain?"

Which, progress! At least she wasn't sure, as opposed to being pretty fucking sure that dying would be a pleasant change of pace. Something to look forward to, the same way you looked forward to taking off your shoes after a long, long day. Now she... didn't really know? Her thoughts on the matter were a tangled mess, and untangling them would result in inconvenient things such as her knowing and then, in turn, having to deal with that.

Nah, better to leave them alone.

"Oh no, you're not tricking me into having that kind of conversation," Lilian furrowed her brow. "If you want pseudo-philosophical bullshit, go bother someone else."

And, as much as Inga would have loved to trick Lilian into spouting exactly that, it was true that she needed to get ready. The cameras were waiting! Epic revelations, too!

Well, not really. There weren't that many places where you could hide a bomb for it to make sense, and if Cain worship hadn't turned the hunters' one shared braincell into pudding, they ought to follow the usual rules as well.

What were those rules, you ask?

Rule number one: 'Don't put the bomb where others might fuck with it.' So, nope, not behind the counter, not between the tables, and definitely not in the kitchen. If more than three people had access to it at any given time, then yeah, game over! Say goodbye to your bar! Because humans fucking sucked, and you could bet your ass someone would detonate it by accident before you could say 'rules are rules for a reason, dammit.'

Rule number two: 'Maximize destruction.' No point it hiding it in the attic, was there? Not unless it was a nuclear-grade threat. Cellars, on the other hand, were great for these things, because most buildings couldn't really deal with having their foundations blown up. Given that it also fulfilled the condition of restricted access, Inga did sort of expect to find it in there... and, predictably enough, she did. "See, Tristan?" she pointed at a couple of rarher inconspicous-seeming wires, "Bingo. They look simple enough, too." Meaning that jamming them should work out just fine. Was it a groundbreaking solution? No. It was a solution that did what she wanted it to do, though, and Inga had long since stopped trying to flex her creative muscles when the answer was right before her eyes.

Lilian, meanwhile, was getting ready in her own way. Mostly, this meant suppressing the panic; it wasn't that she was afraid per se, but... okay, she might have been a little afraid. A tiny, teeny bit! Not even of getting her ass kicked, because that wasn't the scary part. The body usually did an okay job repairing itself, as long as you didn't outright die. No, what bothered her about this was the... powerlessness. The whole 'being passed around like a piece of luggage' shtick. And yeah, it had been her idea! Except that Lilian Perry wasn't famous for her good fucking ideas, and now she had to question why nobody had thought to stop her.

"Sorry about that," she gave Cass an apologetic glance, "I had no idea you would be dragged into this as well." No, of course not. Mike wanting Cass did sort of make sense, if only because it was the creepiest, most unhinged route to take. Like, yeah -- Lilian supposed that she was fair game, given the betrayal. Hunting traitors for sport was a universally beloved tradition, among both shady and non-shady organizations. Why Cass, though? Because she'd had the audacity to exist in her general vicinity?

Probably! Not like Michael had ever bothered being fair about this.

Or, you know, not being a piece of shit. Also an important component.

"I would have discussed it with you if I didn't think this was a solo action." At least the bindings were comfortable enough; that was the one solace Lilian found in this entire affair. That, and that they really weren't too difficult to get out of. Are these like, magician props? Could be, though knowing Antonia, she also could have commissioned them for this mission specifically. Man, having enough money that you didn't know what to do with them sure must have been nice!

Along with all the other things she didn't fucking get to have. Yes, Lilian was still bitter.

"Okay," she sighed, "Off to the zombie land I go." Because, at this point, there wasn't much else for her to do. She and Cass were sitting in one of Antonia's bizarrely expensive cars, and given that the signboard of Ninth Heaven was within sight, they had to get into the role. "Good thing that cosplaying vegetable has always been my strong suit. All I have to do is remember one of my old lectures." And, indeed; Lilian's gaze did turn pretty vacant once she recalled a) some of the bullshit they'd been taught, b) how boring it had been.

Weaponized tedium, ladies and gentlemen! Or something.

So, she allowed Antonia to lead her... wherever she wanted the negotiations to take place, trying her best to look as if she wasn't mentally there.

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy had easily accepted Lilian’s apology. She didn’t hold her responsible for this situation; that was all on Michael, and maybe a little on Antonia, for making it seem like she had to bring both Lilian and Cassidy, or none at all. At least this way, Cassidy reasoned, they would be together in the danger and could watch out for each other, as they would have nearly as much back-up as some of the others.

The hunters stealing the vials had the most back-up prepared.

Sure, the little dive bar wasn’t that big, and was easy to surrounded, but there were priorities, and rushing people to the safety of fast cars, to consider.

So when Lilian apologized again while they were in cuffs, Cassidy just gave a long-suffering sigh and, “It’s all right,” to soothe the huntress as the neon lights came into sight. She relaxed herself then, but not before adding, “I’m not upset,” and then, well, closing her eyes, and going limp. Unlike Lilian, she wasn’t even going to try the drugged thing. She was just going to feign being unconscious.

And get hefted out of the car by Max after it came to a stop. She resisted the urge to open her eyes to see as she felt herself picked up like a sack of potatoes and carried out. Resisted the urge to see that Lilian was okay in her own role, and did her best to play, well, unconscious.

She could hear Antonia’s heels clacking on the pavement.

She could hear several other steps beginning to enter the scene, as hunters started to come out of the bar, confused and angry.

And afraid – although Cassidy didn’t know that, and several of them probably wouldn’t have been were it not for Antonia exuding that threat from her pores to keep them somewhat placid, even if they were likely going to talk first with the presence of Lilian right in front of her.

Vrishaketu would know, and he couldn’t help the sideways look he gave Antonia as he felt it tingle against his own senses, and recalled the way it had kept him still in a critical moment, before he realized the feeling had not truly been his own, but forced upon him. After that, it became somewhat easier to manage, but the memory of it still made him want to flee it.

Fight, flight, freeze.

He didn’t know if Antonia could control the reaction, but sometimes, he really thought she could as the hunters mostly froze.

Antonia stopped, hand gripping Lilian’s shoulder tighter than necessary as she did so, holding Lilian in front of her as she looked at the hunters that had exited the bar. She didn’t recognize them, so they were not a herd of higher-ups. “I demand to speak with Michael Serafis.” The ever-authoritative voice boomed out, and she drew the influence away.

Time to let them speak and react now that they had the situation in front of them, and time to absorb it.

One hunter did, “And why should we grant a bloodsucker an audience?”

Antonia made a gesture towards Lilian, and Cassidy, as if the answer should be obvious. She had brought two gifts for him. “I assume you recognize at least one of them. I’m here to renegotiate my arrangement with him, we had a falling out of sorts when I thought this hunter was worth protecting.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust that was not at all hard to fake.

Perhaps it wasn’t even fake.

“She isn’t.”

Within, Antonia knew, Jasmine and the others who had arrived earlier and started to mingle, started to drink, would get to work on their part of things. She just had to take up as much time as possible and keep the bar as empty as possible. It wouldn't be empty -- but she trusted Jasmine and the others to handle what remained quietly enough.

 

[Syntra]

Whoa, she's a good actress. Some part of Lilian, and it wasn't an insignificant one, couldn't help but wonder if it really was an act. Wasn't backstabbbing like, Old Vamp 101? And while she still had no idea what it was that Antonia actually did for a living, it seemed to her that lying to people played a big fucking role.

Lying to the hunters; lying to Michael; lying to them, potentially.

How did the saying go? Once a liar, always a liar?

Except that the idea of the whole plan being an elaborate trap also struck her as fucking stupid, if only because it was hard to imagine Antonia going this far just to fuck them over. Not like it would have been hard! Instead of organizing fake meetings, the vampiress could have... uh, gone for about ten million other, less annoying methods. Lilian didn't think assassins came cheap, but paying for one was likely pocket money for Antonia, and-- Think of that before you call her a Karen to her face.

A handy survival tip!

Speaking of that, she should probably try and play her role convincingly.

"An...tonia?" Lilian blinked, as if she was terribly confused about pretty much everything, "Why are we here?" Yes, terribly confused and terribly stupid, because drugged people weren't exactly famous for their presence of mind. Heh! This actually could have been kind of entertaining, if not for the whole 'this can go very wrong very fast at any given moment' factor.

Also if not for the hunters' obvious fucking glee. One guy whistled; others chuckled in the background, almost indistinguishable from your average sitcom laugh track. Well, good thing someone was having fun here!

Couldn't they at least pretend to feel sorry for their former comrade? No? Because that shit right there was why they were getting betrayed in the first place!

Well, that, and the fake god thing. The murders, as well. Those were all pretty significant.

"No way," the one from before said, "Lilian Perry, in the flesh? And her vampire friend? Never thought that you would be the one to bring them here. Just goes to show how helpful it is, being all buddy-buddy with bloodsuckers."

As if being buddy-buddy with you is any more helpful, Jason. Real fucking rich of him to say! Jason, not so affectionately known as The Wimp, continually amazed everyone with his uncanny ability to a) stay alive when he should have been long dead, b) bring bad luck to literally all of his team mates solely by existing. That he was there, alone, honestly should have been a red flag.

Thankfully, it seemed that the hunters hadn't caught on... yet. Of course, that didn't mean that they didn't have other questions, or that they fully bought Antonia's story.

"How come?" Jason tilted his head aside, "What did she do? Opened her mouth and the usual bullshit came out?"

The bloke didn't know how lucky he was that Antonia was holding her, because Lilian was this close to fucking strangling him. Bullshit? Her?!

Another man, a tall one with long, dark hair tied in a messy ponytail, put his hand on Jason's shoulder and sighed. This... wasn't actually someone that Lilian knew. So, a new guy? Either that, or a very old one, too high up the totem pole for the likes of her to be familiar with him. Both seemed equally likely. "That hardly matters, Jason. And as for you," he turned to face Antonia, contempt written all over his features, "Aren't you supposed to know how things are done?" She really should know that, given her and Michael's relationship. That it had been a thing at all was regrettable, but the bloodsucker just turning up here, as if the bar fucking belonged to her, crossed all kinds of lines.

Although... hmm. Maybe it was for the best!

"Besides, what makes you think Michael has time for you anymore? He's a busy man," A shake of a head, as if Antonia was just being oh so silly, "And you have already proved to be a disappointment." Nobody was quite threatening her just yet, but it was definitely in the air; the smiles that weren't really smiles, the strange heaviness, the way more and more hunters poured out of the bar, all armed to the teeth. And that they were clearly trying to surround them? Pure coincidence!

(Some were still fighting off that strange fear, but numbers helped. Knowing they were on the home turf did, too.)

"Perhaps you haven't heard yet," he continued, his voice silky smooth, "But there's a bounty on your head, too." Of course there was one; after all, she was a vampire. In the grand scheme of things, the traitor label... also didn't matter too much.

All of them had to die.

"Why shouldn't we just kill you where you stand?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Antonia felt that tension in Lilian as one of the hunters began to speak, and she clenched down a little tighter. Partially as a reminder that she was there, and in this situation where Lilian had to pretend she wasn’t aware enough. Partially, as a strange comfort. Antonia knew, too, how much Lilian wanted to fuck everyone over. Antonia did, too. ‘Patience.’ Patience was always the key word here.

More hunters were exiting.

Let her gaze shift from Jason, to one of the Important Hunters. She didn’t know him, but he spoke with confidence and certainty, and the others were clearly deferring to his words over whoever the other was.

“Fuck, she’s getting heavy,” she heard Max say, as she pushed Lilian back to step forward, and to use her body to mask any movements that Lilian might make for a few seconds. Long enough, hopefully. Cassidy was crumbled over herself on the ground, but it hid her hands, and that was all that really mattered as Max made a show of stretching himself out, and Antonia kept her gaze on the tall one while approaching closer, hands open (though not up in surrender), no weapons.

Max had her sword.

That was how these things worked. Other people held her weapon so she could give the illusion of being there to talk. “Forgive me, I actually do not know how it works in your organization. I was unfamiliar with other times a vampire broke from your ranks and betrayed Michael. I do not believe it happened often enough to have a protocol. I believed a show of repentance and gifts of the foes that divided us would be enough.”

Perhaps it would have been, if she had approached Michael individually, but she hadn’t. The excuse that she didn’t have his number wouldn’t work. She could buy that information only too easily.

The thought of a bounty was cute, honestly.

“I know how I erred. I saw the truth when I saw the god and I have struggled with it for weeks since then.”



‘And the coup de grace.’ Vrishaketu couldn’t help but be amused when Antonia took a knee, surrounded as she was, closer to the hunters then she was to him, then she was to Lilian, or Cassidy. If only the hunters knew how fucked they were in that moment, but no one ever saw it until it was too late, no one ever recognized the way Antonia fucked people over, because no one expected the Great Roman to kneel.

Notably because people didn't survive long enough to tell about it.

“You should not kill me, because I would rather serve the god and make up for what I have become…what I have done all these years.”

Max forced his gaze down, trying to look a bit ashamed for what he was, too, but knowing he couldn’t do that looking at the hunters he was about to rip apart. Better if he was looking down and seeming a bit unbalanced with how he held his weight.



‘Antonia what the fuck.’ Cassidy couldn’t see her kneeling, but she had slipped her bonds, and was prepared to move, to shift and get in as soon as necessary. Antonia’s words worried her. She remembered Antonia’s trance back then, and she found herself honestly worried that Antonia wasn’t lying.

That wasn’t possible, was it?

“So please…take them as my gift and let me speak to Michael.” That little shake in her voice definitely worried Cassidy, but she tried to hold on to that belief that Antonia wasn’t fucking them over. They’d be drugged if that was the case, right? Actually drugged?

“They’ll come to grab you.” Antonia had told them before. “Wait until then.”

She really hoped Antonia had guessed the hunter’s game well enough.

 

[Syntra]

Unbeknownst to Lilian, she was pretty much echoing Cassidy's thoughts as the conversation turned in the direction it did. And not just the conversation! The actions were what took the cake, here. Antonia, what the fuck? The vampiress kneeling was easily among the top ten most surreal experiences of her life, up there with meeting a literal god or Inga apologizing to Cassidy for being a nuisance.

Yep, it was just that weird.

Even so, Lilian recognized an opportunity when she saw it. This wasn't Antonia fucking them over; this was Antonia doing what she did best, which apparently was, as she had theorized earlier, 'lying her goddamn ass off.'

What a spectacle. It didn't feel right, admiring someone for being a manipulative fucker, though Lilian also couldn't quite help herself. She didn't really watch Antonia, mainly because it was hard to fall over the way she did and keep her eyes on her without it being suspicious as all hell, but, damn! The voice alone carried the performance. Firm, yet subdued; somber, yet not without that dash of mad hope that had supposedly brought her there. The perfect picture of a repentant sinner, eager return to her flock.

Had Lilian not known better, she might have reached into her pocket to offer Antonia a handkerchief for the inevitable tears.

Knowing better was something that the huntress had improved at dramatically, though, and so she worked on undoing the shackles instead. Come the fuck on, just a little bit more!

Fortunately, the rest of the hunters didn't have Lilian's insight. Jason had the least of it, if that kind of thing could even be measured, and he proceeded to demonstrate that fact via turning to his leader and tugging at his sleeve. "I don't know, Terrence," Terrence, huh? Still not someone she knew, but the name did ring a bell, "She seems sincere enough to me? Maybe Michael really would like to talk to her." He shrugged, "I mean, he can always kill her later. If we end her now, he might get... angry."

Some murmured in agreement; after all, it was true that murder couldn't be taken back. That was kind of the point.

There was also a distinct murmur of protest, though. So what if murders were permanent? They ought to be! Bloodsuckers dying was a good thing!

Terrence gave a long suffering sigh, as if he had been dealing with this brand of bullshit for far longer than anyone could reasonably expect. Maybe he was even right; having to contend with Jason had destroyed people much stronger than him. He looked at the kneeling vampire, then at his subordinate, "Next time I want your opinion, Jason, I'll ask." Spoiler alert: yeah, not fucking happening! Not when the chances of him stopping to be a doofus were at an all time low, anyway.

After that, he turned his attention to Antonia once again. "Moving," he said, in a tone that more than hinted at the unspoken 'fuck you' and 'too fucking late.' "You have indeed erred, but it is good that you are aware of that. The god is not without mercy, and He will be happy to forgive you once you stand before Him."

As in, in her afterlife.

As in, she needed to be dead right fucking now.

Perhaps it was some kind of signal, because the hunters did interpret it that way. Two of them indeed moved to grab Lilian and Cassidy; the rest reached for their blades, stake throwers, and assorted vampire-killing tools.

Indeed, the god was merciful! But the hunters most definitely weren't.

Meanwhile, Inga was playing the good old 'will they or won't they?' game, but rather than about relationships, it was about the bombs going off or not. She didn't really think they would, though hey, you never knew! Might get (un)lucky this time around! And besides, being too sure with these things was usually what sealed your fate in the end. Confidence was good; arrogance wasn't. Arrogance led to mistakes, and as someone who didn't make those, Inga made sure to always be the pinnacle of humility.

But, with the cameras turned off and the hunters drinking their sorrows away, jamming the mechanisms was honestly a pretty dull affair. Do the x thing first; move onto the y part next. It was a lot like following a recipe, except that fucking this one up could potentially kill you. Okay! Time to fuck off, I guess?

Which, of course, meant turning into a shadow, because she couldn't spook the poor hunters too early. Ruining the surprise just wouldn't be nice. Besides, wasn't it oh so convenient that she could get outside and find Antonia with ease, without being spotted?

 

[Lucyfer]

Antonia could estimate many possibilities. That Lilian and Cassidy would be taken alive was the main one, and that seemed correct. Her own life was another matter, and she was quietly amused that they drew the line at her. She wondered how much she had pissed off Michael…or how much Michael had lost control. It was one, or the other, and she wasn’t sure which she hoped for as she whispered an, “I understand,” to Terrence without rising, or suggesting she was going to resist her fate. That was what she was there for, repentance unto death, after all.

So Max had to be the one to react. “No, I didn’t come here to fucking die,” he stepped away as weapons were drawn, taking out a gun. He had a stake with him, among other things, but he had argued for his gun. They were still human, even if some of them happened to be mutated humans.

He figured a gun was still going to wound the vast majority of them pretty severely, and he was pretty sure they weren’t faster than a bullet. So, off popped the first shot, that sound which would echo far enough to alert others that it had begun, and it struck one of the hunters that had ventured furthest towards him and Cassidy, right through the heart.

He was nothing if not a good shot.

The hunter staggered and fell; there wasn’t enough mutation to keep that one alive from such a shot, although it quickly caused that beautiful cascade effect of hunters reacting in rage, and Cassidy letting her limp disguise fall as she leapt up, claws quite literally out on both hands, and tackled the next hunter to the ground.

That was when Antonia rose to her feet, before any of the hunters could think to secure her or put a sword through her. She meant to move to Max to retrieve her sword, but found no need of that. He’d come to her side quick enough, before the chaos truly erupted, and she had her sword in hand.

She quite enjoyed the fury she saw in the eyes of the deceived, and couldn’t help but make a flourishing bow with her sword – the hunter that tried to interrupt was shot by Max – before joining the violence with no hesitation, and no running, this time. She made sure her targets were mostly those who were inclined towards fiery death, intent on limiting the spread of fire most of all.



Vrishaketu was only really annoyed he had to actually defend Antonia. He couldn’t bring her to Isolde dead, though he’d prefer that. What he couldn’t do well was feign a combat style that wasn’t his own, although making use of the gun aided in that substantially. Anyone could point, and aim, and he’d actually gotten used to it since the gun didn’t really give away that a vampire killed someone. It was very effective against humans, too. Especially humans who held flaming objects; he was always amused to put a shot through their Molotov cocktail.

He could admit that he understood Tristan’s obsession with modern day things for these reasons. The fights were more entertaining.

The gun remained fairly effective against the majority of the hunters, few mutated enough that they could just shake it off, but some did, or were quick enough to dodge. The reinforcements were bound to start showing up, but Vrishaketu allowed himself and Antonia to get a bit overwhelmed, and when Antonia’s blood spilled from a stake that went awry, he used it as an excuse to grab her arm and rush towards an escape route through the surging masses.

Once he could get her further from the others, he could put an end to this charade once and for all. Thankfully, she didn’t resist the pull away, not that he expected it - she’d want out of too much danger, and understood the risk of resistance amongst a horde trying to kill her.

Lilian and Cassidy seemed to already be getting separated by the ebb and flow of the hunters and the others joining the fray. Cassidy was practically on another street, so Antonia vanishing from sight wouldn’t be noticed for a while.



Cassidy wasn’t thrilled to have been unable to get to Lilian in the surge. She was surrounded too quickly, forced back too quickly, to reach Lilian. All the same, she fought to try and get to her side, to make sure she was okay.

It was harder to sense her in the crush, and the haze of blood and smoke. It was harder to tell hunters apart from one another, but as she swung wide, she thought she recognized one that was important to Lilian. ‘Fuck!’ and she quickly adjusted her aim, ending up with her claws in the pavement.

Literally, in the pavement. The holes around her fingers were real.

 

[Syntra]

For how big she was, Inga Singedottir wasn’t a naturally loud person. She could be, much like a horse technically could bite you, but that wasn’t its usual modus operandi, nor was it its preferred way of dealing with assholes. And, with all the mayhem erupting in the background?

Better to stay quiet.

Some liked to announce their position for coolness points, and hey, all the power to them! Inga approved! In another life, she even may have been that person – had been that person, not so long ago – but playing stupid games for those deliciously stupid prizes kind of lost its appeal when you were actually trying to… well, stick around. Last for more than a week. Find Antonia, and not die before her eyes with nothing but ‘whoopsie’ for an excuse.

It was still weird, to have someone care about whether she lived or not, but it also didn’t feel… bad? She wasn’t sure whether it felt good per se, but the two went hand in hand so often that trying to tell one apart from another was an exercise in futility.

For now, she would count feeling anything at all as a win.

Of course, Inga being Inga, she did butt in from time to time to deliver the occasional backstab.

“Die, bloodsuckers!” a rando with a stake thrower shouted. “You will pay for— aaargh!”

Blood bubbled past his lips, and Inga gave him a look that could only be described as bored. “What, existing? Don’t we pay enough already? Having to share the planet with you guys is a pretty shitty deal, pal.”

“Eeek!” Needless to say, the hunters did not appreciate her entrée. Some took a step back, the shock of a Viking-looking babe appearing out of thin air momentarily winning over their training, while the rest just kind of stared. A few of them did have the presence of mind to raise their weapons, and Inga waved at those, “Just passing through, friends! Unless you’re feeling more suicidal than usual?“ A lot of them likely were, though she also wasn’t all that interested in providing the solution to that. Antonia was what mattered here, dammit! And she still couldn’t find her.

Where are you, sváss mínn?

Not with Cassidy, nor with Lilian. Inga did catch the sight of the two, and since they seemed to be holding up just fine, she continued with her Tour de Battlefield without paying them a lot of attention. Come on, do you HAVE to bleed all over the place? It was nice of the hunters that they were dying so eagerly, but if you asked Inga, the resulting sensory overload was really inconsiderate on their part. Did nobody think of her poor, sensitive nose? How was she supposed to—?

Ah, bingo!

There she was, a little hurt but alive, heading… somewhere… with Max.

Max, The King of Suspicious Fuckers.

The alarm bells in her head told her to choose violence, but since she couldn’t do that without incurring Antonia’s wrath, Inga went for the next best thing instead. “Maxie!” she materialized out of nowhere, all but hugging the poor man, “Thanks for keeping Antonia safe for me. Not sure what I’d do without you!”

‘And now you can fuck off’ was a part that remained unspoken, though anyone with half a braincell could hear it.

Meanwhile, Lilian did her best to not notice things. Counterproductive? Not at all! If she didn’t acknowledge who she was fighting, she could substitute everyone’s face with that of Jason’s, and since Jason’s death had been long overdue, there was no need for her to feel bad. We’re not even here to kill them, she reasoned. Just to take the vials.

Never fucking mind that death was the most common side effect of that.

Nevermind that they weren’t too different from her, either.

If not for Cass, would she not have been defending the bar as well?

Defending it, and believing she was doing the right thing?

But it didn’t matter what their opinions were. Them thinking their god was the next best thing since sliced bread did not fucking make it true, and—

Clang!

Lilian’s blade collided with another, and she couldn’t help but gulp. How long until she saw a familiar face? Until the Jason excuse stopped being enough?

At least Inga had apparently succeeded in making sure the bar did not become a death trap, judging by its continued existence. There was no fiery inferno; no screams; no collective rendezvous with god.

So, maybe fate could also be kinder than to make her meet them?

Cassidy could say a thing or two about that, because she was currently in the middle of getting a proof that, no, actually!

Fate did not play nice.

You could even come to the conclusion it was stuck in its ‘fuck you’ mode, as there were few things worse than her stumbling into a very pissed off Maria.

“You!” It was almost impressive, how she managed to concentrate that much venom in just a single syllable, “You.” Unlike during their previous meeting, Maria was wearing what seemed to be an unofficial hunter uniform; trousers, shades of grey, and an expression that said she wanted to kill. “So is this your definition of helping?” Apparently, she still remembered Cassidy’s promise; whether she remembered what had followed, ie. her own betrayal, was somewhat… debatable. Also somewhat irrelevant. “Is Lilian here, or did you manage to stab her in the back as well?” And no, Maria wasn’t sure what the worse option was. A dead friend, or an evil one? Hacking her right hand off, or losing her left one?

There was no good answer. No good answer, aside from maybe: “It’s all your fault,” she spat out, before reaching for her sword, “I should have killed you myself when I had the chance.”

And, by all accounts, it looked like Maria was more than ready to rectify that mistake.