It was nice to be moving at a pace faster than a casual walk, like she'd been stuck doing while her cohort had indulged in a little shopping and the stroll partway to their destination. It felt great to be able to stretch he legs and run. Both her legs and her bony appendages. It was frustrating having to play follow the leader with the guy, but she could handle it for a while if it meant she got to have a little fun at the end of it.

He kept up with her along the rooftops pretty well, though she hadn't really expected him to fall behind. She had, however, half expected him to float along or something, rather than just making exaggerated jumps, much like she was. But, whatever. To each his own. Maybe it was just easier or something, and she did have to admit to herself that he made it look exceedingly easy. She only had some minor issues when it came to a few not-quite-steady footholds, but having six legs instead of two helped her to right herself easily enough in the event that she stumbled.

She slowed as he did and came to rest somewhat close to him when he finally stopped. It had taken less time to reach their destination than she'd thought it would. Not that she as complaining. The sooner they got there, the sooner his associates would hopefully show up and their little meeting could get underway.

She didn't always like playing the waiting game, like it appeared they'd have to for a while as her companion closed his eyes and sat there for a minute, presumably looking for some kind of sign she couldn't detect to let them know if it was go-time. However, with the promise of possible bloodshed looming overhead, she supposed she could wait for a little while. Especially if she got to play the part of the looming threat.

She didn't much care for being bossed around either, but she could forgive it in exchange for blood. And so she didn't waste much time in obliging the young man's request that she scale one of the cranes. It was big, that was for sure, but it wasn't any challenge for her to climb, the various connecting metal beams and such making for convenient footholds and handles.

It only took a few moments to reach the top where she slowed to a stop and perched, sitting on one of the crossbeams and letting her legs swing free, her four bony appendages splitting at their ends and wrapping around a few beams, acting a form of restraint to help keep her balance and avoid a potential tumble.

All she had to do now was wait for her partner in crime to follow her up and claim his own perch. It'd be nice if he'd fill her in on some details, like why they were playing bird's eye instead of waiting for the business men on the ground. It was looking more and more like an inevitable bloodbath instead of a business transaction that could maybe possibly turn into something violent.

She couldn't really say she minded such a development.

Drifting soundlessly on a conjured breeze Zephyr surveyed the scene below him with an unfocused gaze, relying more on his spatial perceptions than sight to discern the dimensions of the shadow wreathed shipyard as he paused occasionally to crouch atop certain crates before moving on. From what little the elemental could tell it seemed as though the area had initially been designed with a grid format in mind but, through either negligence or incompetence, the stacks of steel crates had gradually shifted to a more irregular pattern the closer they encroached upon the water front.

The end result was a poorly conceived labyrinth with a number of blind corners and bottlenecked passages wherever crates failed to properly align. Combined with the differing heights scattered throughout the yard it would have been an ideal environment for a firefight, if not for the complete and utter lack of visibility. Admittedly there was some pale illumination strewn around the docks perimeter however that was more from the ambient florescence of nearby streetlights then any attempt by the docks owners. From a logical standpoint there should have been some form of lighting system built into the cranes carriage to allow for loading the night before a voyage in order to minimize the amount of time a ship spent dead in the water.

Then again such a measure would require common sense and that was a rather elusive commodity, especially in this city. Still Zephyr was troubled by the darkness, for although it didn't hinder him personally others wouldn't be quite so fortunate. Granted the NYC gang stereotype was not one of foresight and intelligence but surely the respective leaderships of the two groups converging here tonight would have anticipated the difficulty inherent in attempting to riddle someone with holes when you couldn't even see them. There had to be some form of strategy on each side to deal with the present conditions and the fact he couldn't immediately spot it left the elemental feeling somewhat disconcerted.

One of the most easily implemented tactics would have been to simply secret a small number of heavily armed individuals into a false crate contiguous to the oppositions staging ground allowing for a brutally devastating ambush. However the hessian had already performed a cursory scan of the shipping containers and hadn't found anything untoward and so such a deception was unlikely unless both sides were waiting until the last minute to get people in place but even that was doubtful due to the difficulty in remaining unnoticed.

A second option would have been to take advantage of the waterfront to bring in reinforcements part way through the conflict, however neither side had both the numbers and the resources necessary to obtain a vessel large enough to make a difference. Even if one side did choose to go through with such a gambit the timing would need to be impeccable and the opponents blind as badgers not to notice something creeping in from the water as larger boats were rarely capable of speed although...

Zephyr paused and turned his senses toward the waterline. It was somewhat higher than he'd expected, did tides go out or come in at night? The elemental couldn't recall quite recall yet he gauged that the water needed to rise perhaps another foot or so before someone could conceivably enter the docks from a smaller and rather swifter vessel.

The thought did nothing to reassure him; it only added to the potential complications he'd have to keep track of, hopefully he was giving both gangs entirely too much credit but, the elemental always preferred to err on the side of caution if he could.

Lifting a hand to the bridge of his nose the hessian sighed as he began a gradual ascent towards the cranes and contemplated taking another dose of his medication. He was already over the 'advisable' limit he knew but such things were always designed with a rather large safety margin and the damage his brunette associate had inflicted on his legs had done nothing to improve his pain threshold, though the injuries were distracting from the pulsing migraine which had been a near constant presence in his life for the past few months.

Yes, he needed another dose.

Swallowing the pale tablet in what some might have termed a worryingly habitual manner Zephyr shifted his thoughts back to the situation at hand as he continued his slow upward trajectory along the rear of the crane. It occurred to him that the most cost efficient approach in an environment such as this would be to employ a number of sharpshooters through the area. There were a number of well suited crate columns scattered throughout the yard which commanded a rather advantageous field of fire, yet neither group seemed to have made any attempt to capitalize on this and it was worrying. While the nearby buildings and warehouses granted a passable view they didn't allow one to oversee the entire area, in fact the only spot which did were the cra...

Zephyr froze, his upward momentum immediately abandoned as he unconsciously placed his back against the cold steel of the cranes mobile carriage and projected his perceptions across the entirety of the machine whilst silently berating himself for not checking sooner. It was an ideal location, and the elemental suppressed a wince as his awareness swept along the two cranes, the scale and effort of what he was doing causing the pressure in his skull to amplify sharply.

He found little miss Duskmoor easily enough, the gamine seemed to be pacing atop the horizontal neck of one of the cranes, even though he couldn't see her the brunettes figure was still rather vivid in the mercenary's mind and it would have been all but impossible to mistake the voluptuous soubrette. What was somewhat more worrying though was the second figure lying prone on a crossbeam of the undercarriage of the opposite crane holding a vaguely cylindrical item in the direction of the aforementioned bonemancer.

Decisions, decisions, decisions... should he attempt to save his impromptu companion by moving her out of the line of fire or should he simply deal with the root of the problem and trust that the apparent sniper would continue to delay the shot or, if the shot was made, trust that the girl could take of herself? He'd heard that she possessed some resiliency to firearms however he was unsure if it extended to rifles and the hessian wasn't entirely willing to risk having the ingénue injured just yet.

It was quite the dilemma, or at least, it would have been for most people. Zephyr however was most definitely not a part of the quotidian masses and this was rather well demonstrated when, instead of pausing and deliberating over his options, he simply took both of them; silently casting his influence in two separate directions as he took control of the air around both the unseen rifle and Ms. Duskmoor's legs. The latter was given a slight but purposeful push intended to make the girl along the crane rather than off it, whereas the former was given a decidedly less gentle touch and was instead struck with sufficient force to break bones yet in this instance was meant only to remove the rifle from its owners grasp and into the elementals own.

Unfortunately things rarely go precisely according to plan. In the moment before the weapon was completely removed from the sharpshooters grasp a low but still distinct 'phhhsst' issued forth from the barrel and was accompanied by a rather violent disruption of air as the bullet flew from its chamber on a path only vaguely aligned with that of the young miss Duskmoor before the rifle was torn away and Zephyr delivered a blast of solid air to the back of the man's head rendering him inert.

"Are you alright Ms. Duskmoor? I'm afraid I couldn't quite stop the shooter in time, however if you'd like to make your way towards the crossbeams of the second crane you can help me... 'persuade' him to answer a few questions before his friends arrive."

The words were delivered on a thinly crafted stream of wind and left to echo in the air just over Isabel's position. They were spoken in a carefully chosen cadence of concern before giving way to a slightly more presaging tone the hessian felt the girl would appreciate. Although he didn't necessarily need the gamines help in getting the answers he wanted she had been somewhat resentful of him since he'd informed her that deaths were to be avoided. By including her in this impromptu question and answer session he would hopefully mollify the brunette to some degree and thus make her more willing to listen to him in the immediate future.

Boooring. Isabel heaved a sigh and shifted, one leg dangling between the beams of the crane while the opposite foot propped up against one, giving her a place to rest her elbow, which in turn let her sit her chin in her hand while her companion was off doing whatever. She couldn't see him real well from her perch considering how dark it had gotten.

She didn't much like that. She'd much rather be able to see everything and get the drop on their visitors rather than being mostly blind and risking that someone else could get the drop on her. She didn't figure it was all that likely, since she had snagged a decent perch.

With another sigh she shifted again, getting to her feet while making sure at least one of her bone anchors stayed in place, and began walking the length of the crane's neck. Her arms were spread out to her sides for a balance she didn't really need, and the spindly bone appendages crawled along with her to ensure she wouldn't fall should she step the wrong way.

She couldn't see much of the ground level anyhow, so why not try to find some entertainment? Not like anyone was going to drop from the sky aside from her companion anyway, so she wasn't concerned with anyone finding her. The pacing also helped to dissipate a little energy that her irritation was starting to build. She couldn't kill anyone, but she could toy with them to some extent, and that wouldn't be happening while she was stuck up on the crane playing the spy.

The sudden push at her legs from an unnatural current of air interrupted her little stroll, very nearly knocking her on her backside as she stumbled and tried to keep her balance. She at least let herself drop to her knees, figuring the push might have been purposeful for a reason more than just messing with her.

The noise that issued as the unseen sniper's rifle discharged caught her attention, causing her to just barely duck and swing her attention toward the source of the noise, her usual defense slamming into place. However, she couldn't do much about the loosed bullet grazing across one of her shoulder blades and splitting a short length of skin.

She let out a string of curses in a sort of growl as she reached a hand back to gingerly probe at the stinging skin, her fingers coming back bloody. With a huff she quickly sewed the injury shut with a length of string created from the plate of bone beneath her skin. She'd clean it up once she got back to the Sanctuary.

"Don't call me that!" she shot back at the young man when he addressed her. She hated when people used her last name. Lisa was about the only one that still did it, despite the numerous attempts to get her to stop. Stupid Lisa.

However, the offer to assist with an interrogation helped to dissipate her grump a little bit, a devilish grin finding its was into her expression. She didn't bother giving him an answer, instead simply getting to her feet and falling into motion, using her spidery appendages for support and a means of launching herself over to the second crane and to the crossbeam as directed.

"You do the talking, I do the persuading?" she asked, skittering her way over to the sniper and quickly pinning him to the beam, two of the bone legs wrapping around his upper arms and the beam below while she took a seat across his knees.

Placing one hand against the right side of his rib cage, she extended a length of bone from her palm, pushing it through his skin between two of those ribs where it split into two points. Both of those points then proceeded cradle two of his ribs before pushing in opposite directions, one up and one down. slowly spreading his bones apart. "Question number one?"

Although there was little luminescence in the upper chassis of the cranes Zephyr found his eyes following the faint shifts of shadow as his procacious companion made her way across the steel carriage. It was fascinating in a way, to see how the brunette could twist and mold what should have been solid bone into a far more versatile substance. The degree of dexterity she could display alone signified a considerable level of control whilst simultaneously granting insight into, if not the limitations, then at least the preferences she held for her abilities.

It was rather tempting to see how she'd fair in a large scale altercation, and somehow he didn't believe the girl would mind a chance to cut loose, sadly though that was precisely why he couldn't afford to let her 'off the leash' as it were; there was little guarantee she'd actually stop when asked. No, better to keep her either out of the way or close by, he would need to convince his audience that he possessed a measure of control over the bonemancer and while he could likely beat her into submission, doing so in a openly hostile environment would be...unwise.

"Don't call me that!"[/color]

The elemental repressed a sigh as he wearily constructed a shell of silence around the two cranes, deftly separating the air and arranging the resulting void into a rough rectangular structure which would insulate any and all sound. A momentary wince accompanied the action as his mind adjusted to the unusual scale. He had told Duskmoor they weren't to be seen hadn't he? Implied it at the very least. Why else had she thought she'd been sent up the crane? For now he supposed it didn't really matter, a simple chastisement would suffice. If he intended to employ her in the future however the gamine would have to learn to think; looks could only get one so far.

Stepping back a pace to accommodate his partners arachnid appendages as they screeched across the metal crossbeam the azure eyed mercenary allowed the soubrette a moment to settler herself and catch her eye before speaking. "We are aiming for the element of surprise, if you could keep the noise to a minimum, I would appreciate it." The hessians tone was dry but not condescending and the faint frown which lingered on his features was the only sign of his slight exasperation before he moved aside and allowed the brunette access to the unfortunate figure lying comatose at their feet.

Interrogation can take many forms, in the right hands it can become an art just as moving and exquisite as any symphony. There can be gentle harmony's designed to set the audience at their ease or an illusive dissonance crafted to nourish a subtle undercurrent of doubt before striking with a cascade of subattenuate and pervasive questions, each one more prominent and compelling than the last. The very best performances leave their subjects in a state of amiability with no notion of what had precisely transpired, only that they felt themselves the better for it.

Sadly, such a pinnacle of manipulation requires inordinate amounts of time and no small amount of intelligence and while Zephyr may have possessed the latter, the former was in short supply. Still, that didn't mean he was incapable of improvisation; he did have a rather versatile, if crude, tool at his disposal after all and it would have been a shame not to make use of her talents.

Isabel's approach to the entire situation was not entirely what the mercenary had anticipated. Given her spider motif the elemental had half expected the girl to enfetter the man in a makeshift cocoon before possibly suspending him from a higher beam. Instead the brunette had simply used her osseous appendages to pin her victims limbs, situated herself on the snipers lap and slipped a hand down the man's side. The overall pose was... intriguing, to say the least, and caused the elemental to wonder precisely what form of 'persuasion' the soubrette had in mind.

"Question number one?"[/color]

Zephyr lifted his azure eyes to the girls face and quirked his brow as a faint tone of amusement entered his voice . "Tell me.. Isabel, have you done this before and if so, is this how you normally proceed?" He glanced down meaningfully before returning his gaze and only allowed himself the slightest hint of a smirk.

Be quiet. Pft. Fat chance of that happening. Isabel could keep he mouth shut for a while, sure, but where was the fun in that? There as so much potential fun she could have chatting with people when they couldn't see her, or making a commotion with some poor soul she'd picked up and seeing how many interesting noises his internal organs could make. Quiet was boring.

She made a face at her companion to show her displeasure at the request, but kept her tongue in check. He maybe had a bit of a point in there somewhere. It wouldn't do much good to tip someone off and give them a chance to run before the real fun had even started.

At least she had something better to entertain her now than balancing around on a crane. People really did make the best toys, and anatomy had always held a morbid kind of interest for her. If she had the time to spare, she liked to compare and contrast her own findings with those in a few illustrated books she'd gotten her hands on. There was one or two back in her room, a little worse for wear with some bloody fingerprints on certain pages. Too bad she didn't have the materials to pickle organs.

Arching a brow, she turned her attention away from her newest plaything and over to her cohort. She'd never really tormented people for information. Usually either for fun or because they were in the way or because she was really pissed off. She was a bit confused over his sudden sort of teasing tone before she caught on to what he was getting at.

"Shut up!" she spat, maybe a little louder than was needed. He was going to be a jerk? She wasn't going to be so very cooperative about his previous request, then. It didn't help her mood at all that she could feel her face getting a little hotter.

"Don't ask me questions, ask him questions!" Conversational topic back where it should be! With a bit of a scowl she lifted her hand to show him the bone that protruded from her hand and wormed its way under his skin. "Jackass," she muttered, spreading her victim's ribs a little further, hoping to bring him around from his stupor long enough for coherent answers.

Raising a hand to his face Zephyr feigned a cough to suppress the chuckle which threatened to escape as he took in his companions flushed features and flustered retort. While her reaction was amusing a more judicious part of the elemental acknowledged that baiting the girl had not been the wisest move, her demeanor was contrary enough already, there was little profit in exasperating the situation. Still, he'd given her target to vent her frustrations upon, hopefully that would assuage her to a degree once they got started.

The bare bones of interrogation was communication and as such required a measure of give and take from both parties. Admittedly the process was rather one sided in these circumstances, with the interrogator giving question and taking answers among other things, but the principal was still sound. In order to begin then the two mutants needed their victim to be conscious which, despite Duskmoor's curious 'ministrations' , was not yet the case, possibly it had something to do with the carefully restricted flow of oxygen the man was being fed but, who could say?

Whatever the underlying cause the end result was a small amount of time which, potentially, could be used for a degree of damage control and instruction or, failing that, further amusement.

Schooling his features into a more stoic visage the elemental lowered his arm and made a vaguely placating gesture as he rested lightly against a vertical support and allowed his voice to adopt a genial, if not entirely sincere, cadence. "Sorry, I sometimes let my tongue get the better of me. That being said it was an honest question; I don't you know Isabel and I'm afraid I can't read minds and so I can't tell what you intend."

The hessian paused and when he spoke again his tone was clearly curious, "I still don't actually, what are you doing?"

Isabel gave a bit of a skeptical look at the offered apology. Uh-huh, sure. He'd made smartass comments before and they hadn't slowed him down. She doubted any thought of an apology had ever crossed his mind. Pft. Well, whatever. "Yeah, yeah. You play nice, I play nice. Mostly."

She gave a little huff as he continued, debating whether or not to be a smartass herself in answering him. However, that would probably just waste time she could spend having some fun with their little captive. She could behave herself for now.

"I don't usually get involved with asking people questions," she replied, trying to be somewhat civil. "Talk tends to be boring. I'm usually around to get people out of the way and keep them there." Negotiations had never been her strong point. She had a terrible temper and an uncooperative target could potentially prove to be too much for her self-restraint. She was muscle or the Order, not someone to use in communications.

Looking back at the young man she'd perched on, she gave a bit of a frown. "Like I said, I intend to do the persuading, while you try to get this guy taking. Right now, mostly trying to get him to wake up." She prodded at the open wound with a finger, puzzled over why her plaything was doing a good impression of a ragdoll. "Separating his ribs. People usually protest more when someone plays with their innards."

Isabel's response managed to be both informative while at the same time utterly lacking in pertinent details. She'd admitted to be something of neophyte in regards to interrogation but implied a familiarity in inciting pain. Given the public knowledge of her past endeavors this was not truly surprising, though the fact that she was still capable of walking the streets unassaulted despite acknowledgement of her actions was.

Those were thoughts for another day however, of more immediate concern to the elemental was how he could take advantage of the social faux pa playing out before him. He couldn't limit their victims oxygen for too long without risking a level of brain damage, at the same time though he was somewhat reluctant to abandon an opportunity to inquire further about his companions abilities even if she wasn't being entirely cooperative.

It took him a handful of moments, during which Isabel likely wreaked who knew how much damage on the mans insides, but he managed reach a copacetic solution; there was nothing which said an interrogation could have only one focus after all. Granted it would complicate things slightly but until the until the dockyard began to fill there wasn't much need to hurry, if he managed to pull it off he'd be in a win/win situation.

Releasing his grasp on the flow of oxygen Zephyr shifted into a seated position as he returned his attention to the brunette before him and changed his expression to one of open interest which mirrored his tone as he spoke. "Hmm, I don't believe I hit him that hard, are you simply applying pressure or actually controlling the bone?"

A bare moment later something audibly cracked and the sound was almost immediately followed by a breathless cry of pain as the luckless sniper finally came to his senses and began to writhe against the unnatural limbs which pinned him, the struggles only aggravated the wound though and so the man soon ceased and instead lay wheezing in agony as he tried to gather his bearings and Zephyr began speaking.

"Good evening, my partner here is kindly teaching me the finer points of human anatomy, as you can no doubt tell she enjoys taking a rather hands on approach." Another scream lanced through the air as the girl in question performed another contortion of her victims innards which left him gasping unintelligibly at which point the elemental began speaking once again. "Now I understand that this isn't an ideal situation for you so I shall be brief; if you want her to stop you will tell me what I want to know, otherwise I shall let my friend have her fun and take what notes I can."

"Now, let's start with something simple; who are you and who are you working for?"

Only about half her attention was spared for her companion as he moved to take a seat, the gash in the young man's side holding much more interest for Isabel. The palm of one hand and the bone leading into the open flesh were both smeared with red, as were the fingers on her opposite hand as they pushed and puled at the edges of the wound.

"Pressure," she offered, glancing briefly over to him and then back down at her toy. Irritably, she gave the ribs one more shove in opposite directions. The sudden lack of pressure at one end and the audible crack signaled that she'd actually broken one. Oops. She hadn't quite planned on breaking anything just yet.

However, that was apparently enough to finally bring the victim around. A gin quickly replaced the frown she'd worn. Now this was more like it. Toying with people wasn't any fun unless they protested. She prodded at the gash a few more times, watching him twitch and writhe before he finally settled down a little.

She could see the sniper was having a bit of an internal struggle deciding whether or not to comply with the demands before muttering a pained "Bite me." She could give him props for trying to be brave or something, but really it was just stupidity. When someone's got their fingers stuck under your skin, it's usually best to do what people say.

She grinned a little wider. Uncooperative was interesting. She slipped her fingers a little further into the gash, not bothering to even try being gentle. She gave a tug on another rib with her fingers, pretending to ignore him as he convulsed with the pain. "Richard!" he spat, whimpering and sniveling in a very unflattering manner. "Richard what?" she prompted. Tug, tug. "Ashendale! Richard Ashendale!"

She gave an agreeable little sound and splintered the rib in two places, pulling the jagged-edged bone out of his skin, playing like she didn't notice when he screamed curses and called her a few unkind names."Rib," she proclaimed sweetly, showing the crimson colored stretch of bone to its previous owner. "Keep going unless you wanna see what else I can find in there."

"The Back Bullets. I work for the gang The Black Bullets," he hissed through gritted teeth while he appeared to be trying to curl in on himself. "I'm just a lookout. Really. They sent me ahead to make sure there'd be no tricks from the other group, The Foot. Hired help. Honestly. I saw you and figured you might be the kind of trouble I was on the lookout for."

"The Back Bullets. I work for the gang The Black Bullets,"[/color]

The hessians genial affectation flickered for the briefest of moments at the given name before gradually giving way to an apathetic yet skeptical countenance as his azure gaze abruptly shifted and traced a path from the captives right shoulder to his wrist which cut through the mans coat and shirt sleeve. The skin beneath was shown to be lightly tanned and, despite the blood flowing from a fresh cut along the arms length, the image of a jet black bullet was clearly visible on the victims forearm.

"...of course you do." The words were drawn out with no small amount of resignation as the elemental raised a hand to his eyes. While his knowledge of the various factions throughout the city was by no means encyclopedic, the nature of his... profession, was such that he'd had ample opportunity over the years to run across at least half of the more prominent groups in the area and hear a number of tales and rumours regarding those he hadn't. The Black Bullets fell into the latter category and their reputation was significant to say the least.

In short if crime was indeed organized in New York than the Black Bullets would have been upper management. Supposedly formed and backed by the larger Mexican drug cartels the Bullets were a primarily Latino contingent based somewhere on the waterfront and were one of the lead suppliers of cocaine in the city. Their organization was said to be relatively small, less than half that of some of their competitors, as they required their prospective customers to come to them; effectively forcing distribution costs onto other 'retail' groups who then attempted to make the actual sales on the streets.

While such a business model may seem ideal in theory, in practice it held a rather vital flaw; namely the world of organized crime was rather more prone to hostile take overs than that of legitimate business. This resulted in what could best be described as a direct relationship between the value of a factions assets and the manpower required to protect them. The Black Bullets were an anomaly in this regard as their goods were in exceedingly high demand yet they'd managed to not only persist but also profit for close to a decade with just a fraction of the members they should have needed.

The explanation for this was twofold; firstly the Black Bullets had access to a depressingly diverse range of munitions that would put a number of governments to shame. Secondly, unlike other criminal and legal entities, the Bullets members could actually hit not just the broad side of a barn, but also a knot in the wood at 40ft. In essence this meant that the Black Bullets were as much a gang as an AK-47 was a handgun. In all honesty, considering what was known about them, they'd be better described as a strike team with management skills.

Roused from his somewhat dispirited ponderings the elementals attention was drawn back to the present by a sudden scream from his previously gasping captive. A quick glance at the gang members shifting midsection left little doubt as to the cause of the man's pain and Zephyr shot an irritated look at his sanguinary partner which was either ignored or missed, neither possibility did much for the hessians mood.

"That will do." The mercenary's words were cool as he spoke and the fresh screams soon died away, only replaced with pained gasps as the unfortunate Bullet collapsed against his bonds and fought for air. Zephyr waited for a handful of moments until the man breathing had evened out before speaking again.

"I'm sure there's a silver lining to this somewhere, however as time is of the essence I'll settle for what I can get. Who else is coming tonight?"

Black Bullets, huh? Whatever. The name didn't really ring any bells in Isabel's mind, so she paid little mind to her toy's rambling. She'd let her companion, Mr. Moody, worry over whatever the captive said. All she was really concerned about was having her fun. Names didn't make any difference to her.

While Moody seemed to be thinking things over, she went back to what she'd been doing before the requested answers had been delivered. She'd given the man a break for a moment, mainly to see what her companion would do with the given information, but seeing as he seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts she didn't see any harm in continuing her games.

Sticking the section of rib she'd stolen into a hidden pocket in her skirt as a souvenir, she freed up her hand once more to start poking around the man's midsection, looking for something fun to mess with. Slipping her fingers under the skin again, she brushed past his ribs and aimed for his sternum.

She just smiled sweetly as the top layer of the bone spiked up like a pincushion and poked through the skin, causing the man to scream again.That seemed to catch Moody's attention. Unfortunately it also cut her fun short. With a huff she sat back and crossed her arms, settling into a pout. Stupid grump ruining her good time.

"The Foot,"the man wheezed, apparently learning that it was easier to just spout answers and hope he'd make it out alive for cooperating. Isabel continued her sulk, waiting to see if Moody would let her get back to playing.

"The Foot."[/color]

A resigned curse escaped Zephyr's lips as he heard the name and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, attempting to stem the once again rising pressure behind his eyes. He made a mental note to have words with his current client the next time they met, namely; the difference between negotiations and internecion. Admittedly it might seem a minor distinction to some, however given his clients supposed ivy league education, it was one the hessian felt his employer could appreciate.

Along with the concept of a 2% gross indemnity, and woe betide the man should be balk at the thought of ceding a portion of his overall revenues. The elemental was already toying with the idea of simply watching the inevitable bloodbath which would take place below and extracting his fee regardless. People truly needed to learn that 'mutant' was not merely a synonym for bullet proof... most of the time anyway.

Still, a certain degree of immunity to munitions did little to improve the hessians odds of ending the upcoming 'negotiations' peacefully. There was too much bad blood between the gangs for their members to simply walk away from each other , well perhaps not for the Bullets; they had an uncommon amount of discipline which set them apart from their rivals, they would actually follow orders when given, 'withdraw' however was rarely one of them, especially where The Foot was concerned.

Speaking of The Foot, if one were to follow more politically correct terminology they might possibly be portrayed as an organization composed of like minded individuals of primarily African American descent, covering a diverse range of ages and banding together to engage in numerous activities across the city in an effort to protect their culture and improve their way of life. It could almost be said they were an enhanced form of neighborhood watch.

If one were to speak somewhat more plainly The Foot could perhaps more accurately be described as a collection of largely fatuitous thugs whose education generally had the same breadth and depth as a bottle cap, or at least, that was the popular consensus. In reality they were one of the largest gangs in the city, older than most of the mafias and as far as illicit activities were concerned they were a jack of all trades but masters of none, dabbling in everything from simple muggings to grand theft auto to drugs; muscling their way into any business that looked to turn a profit.

When one then considered that the Bullets were perhaps there most successful peers it should take no great leap of logic to conclude that the two had been at odds for quite some time. In fact popular rumour was that The Foot's constant clashes with New York's premier drug smugglers was how they'd gained the name 'Black' Bullets in the first place and that their somewhat dramatic motto 'The last thing you'll never see.' didn't come around until a few years later.

Whatever the groups past history though it did little to change the hessians current position, instead it merely served to highlight the apparent futility of attempting to mediate any type of dispute between the two factions peacefully, honestly it would likely be far too much effort to even try. A far more practical approach would be to give both sides some form of common ground, preferably one which did not involve the NYPD, SWAT or other various agencies but something which could still induce a similar shared animosity from which he could build.

Shifting his azure gaze back to the brunette bonemancer and her struggling victim Zephyr considered his less than cooperative companion. The girl looked to be his own age yet for all intents and purposes she acted as though she were twelve, and even that was being generous. Granted she'd initially been mildly interesting and somewhat pleasing to look at in spite of her odd attire, but her recalcitrant attitude and unconcealed malice had made him doubt the advisability of bringing her in the first place.

He'd been hoping for the equivalent of a guard dog; someone he could direct and release without further instruction before then bringing her to heel once she'd given a suitable demonstration. Instead he seemed to have found a fox and brought her to the metaphorical hen house. A smirk tugged at the elementals lips, if everything he'd heard of the soubrette was true he might be able to leave the matter entirely in her strikingly scarlet stained hands and simply pick up whatever pieces happened to be left.

A sudden flicker of light from below disrupted the elementals thoughts and caused him to shift his gaze down the dock floor. A number of barrels had been brought out into the open at some point in the past few minutes and few shadowy figures surrounding them were just beginning to light whatever flammable contents had been loaded into each drum, inciting small tongues of fire which swiftly grew into animated flames which cast a myriad of shadows across the area.

"It seems our guests are beginning to arrive," he mused aloud before a note of contemplation entered his tone "and they've brought something I might just be able to work with."

Turning his head to face his impromptu partner and cocked his brow, shifting his gaze from the brunette to her writhing victim and back again. "Are you done playing?"

Mr. Moody didn't seem to be liking anything that their pal Richard was telling them. Isabel could care less. Talk was so boring. Unfortunately Mr. M. seemed to enjoy information gathering. Le sigh. He was just no fun at all.

Idly she poked and prodded at the little spikes along her playmate's chest, helping along a few that hadn't broken the skin just yet. He really did make some fun sounds, and all that useless wriggling he did was entertaining. He would probably bleed to death if her and her cranky companion left him where he was, so she didn't really see why he was fighting so hard. Humans were so breakable, yet so stubborn.

She cast a sidelong glance at Moody as he questioned her. She debated sticking her tongue out at him and being a smartass, but his previous comment and the lights from below were enticing enough that she'd let it slide.

"I suppose I'm done with this one," she settled for replying with, looking back at the living pincushion under her. From the look of things she had new people she could play with now. Hopefully they would be more interesting, particularly with whatever toys thy had with them. Guns got so old after a while. Dropping her arm and pointing at the flames below them, she looked back over to her companion. "Do I get to go play with them now instead?"

"Do I get to go play with them now instead?"[/color]

'In a minute or so I still need to talk to them first, though I doubt they'll listen to reason, which of course is where you'll come in.' Rising to his feet Zephyr spent a moment to adjust his attire and brush away nonexistent dust before stepping out into open air, and then paused, levitating. He had an idea of how things would go —people were, for the most part, predictable and a large part of it would simply be theatrics— however in the unlikely event that things happened to go awry...

He turned back to Isabel, his gaze narrowing minutely as he considered her yet again. He had thus far attempted to avoid giving the girl any explicit instructions as she'd already demonstrated a clear unwillingness to follow them. Given what he had planned though that was no longer an option, he needed to supply her with at least a vague guideline to prevent her from jumping in at an inopportune moment.

'If everything goes as planned I'll call you down in about five or ten minutes, should things seem to get out of hand however...' he began, picking his words with care to avoid giving what sounded like a direct order. 'I'd like you to wait for a count of ten before jumping in, I doubt they'll be going anywhere and it should give you an element of surprise. Does that work?'

Gaining the brunettes assent Zephyr gave a brief nod before allowing himself to quickly drop away from the crane and sailed swiftly through the tenebrous air until he came to rest quietly atop a cargo container just beyond the firelight. He'd picked the position carefully, it was slightly off center but high enough that he still commanded a rather enviable view of the proceedings below and the individuals gathering on each side, thus affording him the luxury of simply being able to watch.

It's interesting really what the proper lighting and preparations can do for an areas ambience. What had been a desolate and somewhat off putting harbor was now a vivid industrial scene lit by flickering firelight with a susurration of impending violence. Barrel fires had been set up across the modest stretch of open space along the waterfront, illuminating a scant few individuals at both ends of the unofficial battlefield but also giving rise to numerous writhing shadows whose movements suggested that there were an untold number of others present for each side. Movement could occasionally be heard over the unceasing murmurs of the water and continues crackling fire. A footstep here, a cough there, and if one were to listen carefully, the dull click of a switchblade and metallic snap of different weapons being cocked.

All things considered it was a fairly ominous setting, under Zephyr's perceptions however much of it was lost; his awareness of the air and by extension, everything which displaced it, allowed him to easily identify and locate the forces forming at each end of the playing field. As he'd expected one side rather outnumbered the other, with the smaller force possessing a greater number of firearms which, although advantageous in the open space presented at the waterfront, would be somewhat limited in use if the fight as dragged into the makeshift labyrinth formed by the cargo crates.

As for when the fighting would start however, that was up to the team captains for, strange as it might seem there was an odd form of etiquette to these type of proceedings. Although both sides despised each other they each had a reputation, and part of maintaining a reputation meant abiding by frivolous and even idiotic formalities to prevent one's peers and rivals crying traitor and descending like a pack of wolves.

In this particular case both the Black Bullets and The Foot were waiting for a ranking member of sorts to arrive. It was unlikely the leader of each respective faction would show up, adherence to formalities would only go so far after all. More likely a low ranked or unfavorable lieutenant of some sort would have been assigned to oversee things and deal with the brief spurt of banter which occurred before the fight began in earnest and would then report back if they happened to survive, which was unlikely.

"Bring it faggots!"[/color]

The abrupt curse broke Zephyr from his musings and drew his attention to The Foots section of the harbour where the curse had originated and various members had begun to step into the firelight, it was swiftly followed by others of similar vein all directed towards the Black Bullets and signaled that at least one team captain was present and it likely wouldn't before the Bullets own impromptu leader showed.

It was time to move in, it would be a shame to miss the banter.

--

"Who the hell you think you are hombré? Comin' inta our territory an' interrupt my business..."[/color]

The leader of The Foot smiled, showing a glint of gold. "Hey, if you and the rest of your faggots actually did some business, there wouldn't be room for me and my homies, now would there?"[/color]

Zephyr stood in the shadows just above where the two were speaking between the two inactive cranes. Although the language was crude he'd seen this scenario play out a hundred times, both sides hated each other and wanted the other out utterly refusing to see any alternative. He wouldn't be able to stop that kind of hatred, at best he'd simply be able to reduce the number of casualties which occurred tonight, a partial slaughter instead of a total one. It wasn't much but then again the hessian didn't really care he had no stake in either side, he was simply doing what he'd been paid to do.

It was time for first impressions.

"Gentlemen! If I might have your attention." He called pitching his voice and stepping behind a container yet still immediately feeling himself coming under target from all directions including both gang leaders who'd both directed their firearms towards the sound of his words.

"Whoever the fucks there got to three afore he gets capped."[/color]

Sighing audibly at the sound of numerous other weapons being cocked in agreement Zephyr brought the second stage of his plan into play. "I simply wish to talk, however if a firefight is what you want..."

Isolating and collecting oxygen was one of the first tricks he'd learned with his gift, of all the elements which comprised everyday air it was perhaps the most versatile, especially when introduced to an open flame. The only key downside was that since that it constituted only approximately a third of air it could take some time to gather an amount sufficient for a sizeable fire ball. Fortuitously however Zephyr was somewhat proficient at multitasking and during his period of observation he'd been steadily accumulating oxygen.

When at last he introduced a thin tendril of oxygen from the cloud down to one of the flaming barrels the resulting explosion, if such it could be called, resulted in a sheet of fire which surrounded both gang leaders in a ring roughly nine feet in diameter, six feet tall and left each side momentarily stunned for the handful of seconds Zephyr needed. Inhaling deeply and collecting what little excess oxygen remained after the blast the hessian drew his element to him as strongly swiftly as he could, knowing what was most likely to come.

Then he stepped out and glanced down at his audience.

"As I said, I only want to talk, I have an offer which I believe would be agreeable to both of you. All I ask is five minutes of your time."

Both men were somewhat shaken by the abrupt display of pyrotechnics they'd just witnessed, that much was clear. However despite this the Bullet leader manager to regain some semblance of poise fairly quickly before subtly shifting his position to keep both the elemental and his counterpart in view. The Foot leader in comparison was simply silent, an expression of surprise rapidly being replaced by anger yet he said nothing which, after a handful of moments, Zephyr took for consent.

"My understanding is that this... event, is simply an excuse for each side to try and remove other. I see nothing wrong with this, however my current employer-"

"Shut the fuck up freaking faggot!"[/color]

Zephyr words choked off as the crack of a pistol echoed through the aphotic air, the bullet tearing relentlessly through the short distance to the elementals chest where it slipped deftly between his ribs and passed straight through his heart and out the other side. The short silence which followed seemed near deafening to the hessian and time was brought to a crawl as he as he lifted a hand to the wound. He knew there should be some form of pain, a type of searing heat to mark the bullets trail and the damage it should have done, yet all he could feel was a muted sense of vertigo and he couldn't tell if it was due to medication, simple shock or-

A second gunshot once again split the air over the harbor and Zephyr's head jerked backwards, all traces of thought gone in that instant as his body toppled back out of sight with all the grace of an unfettered puppet. A dull thud was barely audible as the mercenary's shoulders and skull struck the cold metal of the cargo container he'd been standing on leaving him to stare blankly at the sable night sky as his vision and other senses began to fade and he felt himself begin to drift as darkness closed in.

Then, he got better.

It wasn't pleasant, but then he'd never expected it to be; the ethereal state which Ghost had taught him some time ago had always felt intensely abnormal. He'd tried to alter the technique numerous times in an effort bypass the severe sensory deprivation but it had always it had always cost a degree of the ability's physical invulnerability which was its key strength.

In the end the best the elemental had been able to manage was a crude halfway point; a form which was neither entirely ethereal nor completely solid. It was a state which he could adopt relatively quickly without losing his attire and left him with dulled but still usable senses, the downside of this was that he was only resistant instead of invulnerable to physical assault. Perhaps the best explanation was that although his medial state possessed enough 'leeway' as it were, to allow the bullets to pass through without causing lethal damage, it left him with what could best be called a bruise.

In this particular instance Zephyr knew he could expect an acute case of heartburn along with the mother of all migraines and possibly a scarred lung the moment he became fully corporeal and as he pulled his drifting essence back to its feet the hessian was again thankful for the medicinal strength painkillers tucked away in his jacket; he'd likely need every last pill by the time this fiasco was over.

Until then however there was some unfinished business which needed to be dealt with; he had not enjoyed the unanticipated burst of mental abeyance the headshot had caused, it had come uncomfortably close to reality for his liking and had a rather marked affect on his mood.

Clearly the current leadership presented for both sides was inadequate for the current task. They were too set in their ways, unwilling to think outside the box in order to take advantage of new opportunities, solidify existing strengths and deal with arising threats and pressing weaknesses. Plainly what was needed was someone with fresh ideas, a more flexible perspective, in short, new blood... and, to twist an age old axiom 'an omelet can't be made without shedding a few lives .'

The though caused a malevolent grin to tug at the elementals as he sent a near silent whisper to Isabel through a carefully crafted stream of wind before stepping back into the firelight and audibly cleared his throat. In all honesty another fireball would have been preferable but he'd already used most of the excess oxygen in the area and his abilities were somewhat limited in his partially ethereal state. Still a number of pawns spotted him quickly enough and their mutterings swiftly drew the attention of their superiors, both of whom gazed back at him with undisguised shock.

" I believe I was about to give both of you an offer, I'm afraid I've changed my mind."

A staccato burst of gunfire erupted The Foots leader, each bullet passing straight through the elemental with little damage visible damage beyond a brief ripple.

"Instead I'll hand you over to someone you are likely far more familiar with. Someone who's slaughtered this city's so called police, siphoned the very marrow from their writhing bodies, and stained the streets scarlet in their blood."

"Her name is Isabel..."

A shadowed form abruptly dropped down from above, four skeletal limbs impacting the paved earth with sufficient force to craft a web of cracks across the ground and make all but one leap in shock and then shift backwards as the firelight exposed the intruder.

"You may have heard of her.

In the brief silence which followed the hessian shifted his gaze to catch his companions eyes as she took in those around her. "Have fun."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," she said, waving her hand dismissively at her moody companion as he attempted to set down some ground rules concerning her upcoming playtime. Of course he wanted to try and talk to the men below first. He seemed to be full of talk and a desire for stupid little details that she didn't think mattered all that much. If he was going to let her play with the little fire starters down on the ground, then why bother trying to chat with them first? Sigh.

She prodded at the body under her a few times as Mr. Moody descended, rapidly growing bored with the man named Richard. He seemed to be fading fairly fast. There was going to be a sizable red stain on the metal of the crane by morning. Plus the body and all. Momentarily she debated dropping the body to the ground and watching it splatter. However, that would ruin the element of surprise that Grumpy seemed to want. What a shame.

With a sigh she got to her feet, severing the ends of the spindly limbs that were restraining the soon-to-be corpse and reshaped their tips as she made her way out to the edge of the crane's arm as far as she could possibly get and still manage a grip on the metal frame. The guidelines set in place for her would require that she pay attention to what was going on below her.

She could hear some yelling, but not exactly what the words being yelled were. Of course it was talk. Talk, talk, talk. She could only wait and hope that the talk would end up with her name being called. It didn't quite seem like it's be happening in a real hurry, though. With another sigh, she settled into a seated position, one leg left to hang while the other was pulled against her chest to give her a place to rest her arm on top of, which was in place to rest her chin on top of.

And then things seemed to get interesting.

Isabel perked up at the site of more flames erupting and taking the shape of a ring, seemingly around a pair of individuals. They had to be the ring leaders in this whole situation. She didn't really think Moody would waste time playing round with the muscle when he was looking to negotiate. She grinned a little bit, hoping this would mean she'd get the signal to join him soon.

However, that didn't seem to be the case just yet. When the fire was extinguished, it was replaced by to pinpoints of light erupting from the barrel of a pair of guns, the slower bang signaling the shots. Uh-oh. Moody looked like he was in trouble.

One, two, three.

Her dangling leg was drawn up beside the other and her weight was shifted onto her feet so she could lean out a little further. She squinted at the dancing shadows below caused by the flames, trying to see exactly what was going on.

Four, five, six.

No more fireballs. No more gunshots. Had her temporary employer been gunned down that easily? How anticlimactic. The trick with the fire was cool and all, but there should have been something else he could have done to save his own skin. He'd managed to put her on the ground quickly enough when she'd attacked him. What was the difference between her and a couple of thugs?

Seven, eight, nine.

She stood, ready to move, but hesitated a moment. Was all this nonsense really worth it if she wasn't getting the money she'd been promised? Sure, she killed for fun, but it was never a pleasant experience picking bullets out of her skin. And if that idiot couldn't even keep himself alive long enough to have a five minute conversation with someone, then why should she do him any favors after he was dead? She might as well continue on doing what she'd originally gone out to do.

Her head twitched to the side as a whisper sounded at her ear. It sounded distinctly like her name. Was that what he'd meant when he'd said he'd call her. If that was the case, then he had to still be down there somewhere.

The new eruption of gunshots confirmed her suspicions. Those idiots wouldn't be shooting in the same direction if they were fighting each other. Moody had to have done something to avoid the initial few shots.

Ten.

Increasing the density in her spindly limbs to avoid them shattering, she launched herself off the crane, aiming for the trio below. Falling was always such an exhilarating feeling, and it was made all the better knowing she was getting the drop on someone and would be able to let loose and have her fun once she'd landed.

She greatly enjoyed the sound her impact made, though she didn't grin just yet. Her companion was still saying something to the pair of men he was supposedly negotiating with. Someone was trying to be dramatic. Whatever. It worked well enough for her.

Lowering herself onto her own two feet, her spindly limbs curled up out of the way, the lower ones running the length of both her own legs and the upper pair poised over he shoulder. She crossed her arms and regarded the two men before her with a look that said they were no better than something she might have found on the bottom of her shoe.

They looked a little less than happy to see her. Whatever shots they had left in their little guns were fired, and she made sure to make a show of not caring when a bullet grazed her cheek, her thigh, hit her stomach and her collarbone. The lower pair of bone legs did drop a bit to giver her some traction on the ground and help her keep her balance with the more accurate impacts.

The only movement she made to indicate retaliation was to arch a brow. The upper par of legs were quickly severed at the first joint and propelled toward the two men as the severed pieces were rapidly replaced. The shorter of the two caught on in his neck, the other in the chest. She let a grin slid across her features at their expressions before they collapsed.

Having accomplished that, she set off at a run, heading toward any moving body she could find, her bony limbs aiding in taking sharp corners and climbing over obstacles. They also came in handy for spearing anyone that was on the ground, be it from tripping or other injury. For the most part she was cutting people down with a sword-like protrusion, occasionally switching it up with something like claws and little bullets of bone.

Unfortunately for her she hadn't counted on some of the men being so well armed. Namely in wielding guns that could handle armor piercing rounds. Apparently the idiots really meant business. That, or they were trying much too hard to make up for inadequacies elsewhere. She'd just rounded one of the storage crates when she was stopped in her tracks as the shot rang out. Someone had bet right when they'd gambled she'd be in their range eventually.

Her brain very quickly registered that something wasn't right in the amount of pain caused by something as little as a bullet. She dealt with being shot and being shot at regularly enough that she was building up a bit of tolerance for gunshot wounds. This one, however, was different. Rapidly she skittered back around the container and into a little space where she could see someone coming and no one could sneak up behind her.

Her shirt had a nice big chunk taken out of it and a splotch of red was very quickly blossoming across the fabric. Pulling it up out of her way to asses the damage, she gave a small sound of distress.

There was a chunk of her side missing. Not a very big chunk, but the fact that anything was missing at all very much alarmed her. Since when were guns able to get by her defenses? The white bone was all splintered, showing the red flesh above and below it. Something was not right there.

Quickly she put the shards back together to form a smooth sheet of white. However, this time a second layer was placed over the injured skin, sort of sandwiching the wound between two layers in an attempt to slow the bleeding at least enough that she could get her job done. She was going to get that little rat that'd shot her.