For a while, she had been sure that someone was following her. The same two walking in the same direction on the other side of the street, taking the same turns she was, but making sure to keep the road between them. It was strange, and though Megan hadn't gotten any eerie calls or texts since she had been to visit the Doctor, she couldn't but jump to the conclusion that it was Trent. That he had found her out, and was having her tailed.

The paranoia led her off the main streets. She kept to the light, where people could see her in case something happened, but after turning her seventh corner and jogging to the end of the block, she was running out of ideas. While waiting for the walk signal to change, she turned and peeked over her shoulder. Both men were nowhere to be seen. The street was empty save for a few passing cars and a handful of people. Caught by surprise, she stood there, hands tucked into her pockets. Maybe... she had just imagined it? The signal shifted, and she barely noticed. Though she was alone all of the sudden, she still had the sinking feeling that something was amiss. Megan shook herself, turned and continued on her way. She was going to have to circle back around the way she had come, since she had let herself get run off her path. Chuckling to herself, she tucked a few strands of stray hair behind an ear, and made sure her hood was still in place.

She had just started across the street, stepping aside to avoid an elderly woman who was taking her sweet time, when the screeching of tires filled the air. Stopping in her tracks, she cast her eyes back over her shoulder in time to see a black car rip around the corner. Caught by surprise, her eyes widened. It was headed straight for her! Megan dove to the side, hitting the pavement and rolling. She clambered to her feet, sprinting back onto the sidewalk, and raced down the block. The car narrowly avoided hitting the old woman, still in the road, and quickly gave chase.

Megan ducked down an side alley, a small road that made it able for unloading and loading of wares for the shops on the block. The car slammed on it's brakes at the opening, two doors flew open and the two men she had seen following her jumped out to give chase on foot. The car doors slammed closed again and it took off once more, intending to speed around and cut her off on the other side. She hit the street before it though, and booked it toward the nearby docks. There were plenty of warehouses scattered about that she could take shelter in... she just needed to reach them first.

WhirlWhirlWhirl—THUNK![/b]

WhirlWhirlWhirl—THUNK![/b]

WhirlWhirlWhirl—THUNK![/b]

Vicente breathed calmly as he stood on a secluded part of the docks, behind one of the buildings. The painted on target he had made on one of the buildings had three throwing knives stuck fast into the very center of the bullseye. Calmly he strolled over, plucked them out with a firm grip, and then returned to his throwing position several feet away. Calmly he tested the weight and balance of his knife as he looked at the target ahead of him.

Closing his eyes, he quickly flicked his wrist and sent the knife hurtling off again and embedded it deep into wall. Another bullseye.

Now, the assassin was not here merely for target practice. He had to get himself ready. He had gotten a job from Falcone, this time he wanted some kid named León brought to him. There was no reason given, only that Falcone wanted the boy brought to him safe and sound. Vicente had done his homework and found out that the kid was an orphan living under the protection of the Fizzini family. There was really no reason as to why, except possible rumors floating around that the boy was a mutant. Other than that, though, Vicente had no idea as to why the boy had such interest about him.

What made him so important now, though, was that he had managed to run away from the Fizzini family’s protection. He was living on the streets at the moment, so Falcone was in a scramble to snatch him up.

A job was a job to Vicente. He had managed to track rumored sightings of the boy to these docks so he simply had to wait him out. He would appear eventually.

Sighing, he let loose another throwing knife, without looking, and heard it embed directly into the bullseye. Dressed in a long, black coat, leather vest, and jeans, the assassin grumbled as he looked at the time. There was still no sighting of the boy but he was sure that his intel had to be correct. The little grub was already becoming such a nuisan—

A riot of noise drew his attention. Vicente lifted his head listened intently. It almost sounded like…running. For a moment he feared that maybe Fizzini’s men had managed to sight the boy faster than he did. But he would not give up his target without a fight. Roughly he snatched the blade from the wall and slipped into the alley. Sticking the shadows he edged closer and closer, following the source of the commotion…

Both men chasing her burst from the alley, just behind the car as it shot past. They were left in it's dust, but that didn't stop them from running. They knew what the plan was, and they didn't feel like pissing the boss off when he was already in a bad mood.

Megan could hear the car approaching from behind, catching up to her fast. She darted to the left, down boarded path that was littered with all sorts of large crates and covered boxes. The buildings on either side of her made it nearly impossible to the car to follow her in. But above the sound of her own feet hitting the wood below, she heard the sound of doors opening and slamming, and hurried footsteps following.One solitary light still worked down the path she had chosen. She spotted many placed to duck into as she ran, but hadn't yet managed to loose those who were pursuing her, so it wouldn't make hiding a very good decision. She kept right on merrily running, trying to control her breathing like any good track runner would do, and to not trip over her own damn feet.

Passing under the lonely light, she was forced to take a hard left, and suddenly noticed where she was. She had run herself to the end of a dock. Cursing violently, she slowed to a stop and turned to face those who were after her. She still had a few tricks up her sleeves... Like the pistol that sat snugly at her hip, or the many spiders she had dropped along the way, who were reporting information to her from up to three blocks away. According to them, two men had gotten out of the car, while one remained inside... and the two who had originally been following her were catching up. That made four on her tail... five if you counted the driver. She wondered why Trent would go to such lengths to get her, by sending out five people instead of just harassing her by himself like usual.

Maybe he had finally tired of the game, and was just going to kill her to get revenge? Megan grinned. If she was only so lucky... As it turned out, it was not Trent at all. Which caught her entirely off guard. The sound of running ceased, and within the range of light she saw Ken, and another man she had never met. "......Kennith?" Man... had she greatly over estimated the threat...

Or.... maybe not. He stepped slower, his foot falls calm and collected, and she finally caught a glimpse of his face. Megan winced. He looked piiiiissed. He was dressed nicely, average black shirt with a Grey coat over, and clean pressed slacks. But his face was a wreck. It looked like his nose had been broken, from the dark bruises under each eye.... and his jaw appeared to be more of less completely wired shut. The guy at his side didn't look any happier... He was relatively short, with receding black hair, and black eyes that... were frightening on their own. Soulless eyes... no light in them at all. She shuddered ever so slightly. "Chelsey! So good to see you again... we hardly got to say goodbye at the party, don't you think?" His words were muffled a little, from the wiring keeping his jaws from moving, but she understood it all the same. "Now, now.. don't give me that look. Did you really think I'd just let all of that slide?" He scratched at one cheek, the tucked his hands into his pants pockets. "You embarrassed me in front of a lot of important people.... you know that?"

She eyed the man, her hands hanging by her sides, and wondered how fast she could draw her gun and fire. Not very.. She told herself. She wasn't practiced with weapons, aside from a few lucky strikes that she had managed during her lifetime. "...So... What then? You're here to force me to apologies or something? Then we can go home and be a thing again?" Considering how possessive he was, she figured that was the case. She wasn't going to let him bully her into being a pretty little arm accessory. With a smirk, she opened he mouth to tell him where he could shove his pride...

"Nope. I don't let embarrassments walk around on the streets, Chelsey. I have to make sure this one dies... with you." Her smirk dropped clean off her face, and she stared at him. Reaching within his coat, he withdrew a small silver handgun, and pointed it at her. "I gave away some pretty good territory to get my friend here to work with me. You see, after you're dead, or maybe before, he's going to burn you into an unidentifiable pile of ashes."

The sounds of running feet were what urged Vicente on to seek out the source of the sound. He was not sure if it was the child Leon, or not, but on the off chance that it was the boy and that he was being pursued by Fizzini’s men, then Vicente felt that it was only necessary that he got involved. That was why the assassin followed the sounds of the commotion that lead him towards one of the docks.

From afar, and in the shadows, he could make out the figures of two men who had third person cornered. He was wrong. It was obvious that the person cornered was not of the boy he was looking for. This person was obviously female and was too tall to actually be Leon, anyways. She was probably just some call girl that had ended up inadvertently angering a member of the mob. Normally he would have simply walked away, especially since it looked like it was gangland business, but something forced him to pause.

Eyebrow arched, he watched that figure of the woman closely and slowly came to the realization that she was actually familiar. For that reason alone he stood still and narrowed his eyes as he watched the female closely, picking apart her body shape, the color of her hair, the scowl he could barely make out on her fac—

“Megan,” he growled. The little blonde harlot that had ruined his apartment!!

Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, he slunk back into the shadows and slowly made his way over to the gathering to find out what was going on. It was obvious that the two men had bad plans for her. He wondered why kind of trouble she had managed to get herself into now. After all trouble just seemed to follow the little miscreant wherever she went.

Finding a large piece of machinery to hide behind, the assassin listened closely to the exchange…

>> "...So... What then? You're here to force me to apologies or something? Then we can go home and be a thing again?"[/color]

>> "Nope. I don't let embarrassments walk around on the streets, Chelsey. I have to make sure this one dies... with you…I gave away some pretty good territory to get my friend here to work with me. You see, after you're dead, or maybe before, he's going to burn you into an unidentifiable pile of ashes."

Ahhh, he remembered who that man with the wired jaw was. He should, after all, since he was the one that had broken it. Funny, he had only punched him once and he required his jaw to be wired shut? What a wienie. But Vicente listened closely to find that apparently the man had been too embarrassed by Megan’s actions back at the party and now was trying to rectify that situation. The assassin could only shake his head. It was utterly pathetic.

All his normal instincts told him to stay out of this situation, that Megan deserved what she got. He actually was close to just turning around and leaving her to her fate, but she was a useful little pest. Besides, he really, really did not like the type of scumbag her boyfriend was. The man was a waste of skin and bones with absolutely no redeemable qualities. On top of that, he was beginning to horn in on Falcone territory. That had to be met with aggression…

Blades in hand, the assassin carefully slipped out of the shadows and openly stormed towards the pair of men from behind. He didn’t even bother to look at Megan. He wanted to handle these two first…

Ah... it all made sense now. They had been following to keep tabs on her. Probably to wait until she was alone, then swoop in and drag her off somewhere quiet... and the fact that she had virtually done the deed for them annoyed her to no end.

With the gun pointed at her, she didn't know if she'd have time to pull her own weapon. He could easily shoot her before she even had a grip on the pistol. Gritting her teeth, she stood silently and waited. Maybe he'd slip up, and she'd have a chance to fire first, or she could take a running leap and throw herself off the dock into the water below. Ken smiled, some of the anger lifting from his features. "It was great while it lasted, babe. We had a lot of fun, didn't we?"

"If you can consider having to listen to lame ass jokes and put up with an over bearing a**hole fun. Then sure." She shot back. Ken's face twisted again, causing himself to wince as it pulled against his jaw. He nodded to his partner, who nodded back then took a step toward her. Just then, her children radioed in on the movement of another man. One who had just appeared from the shadows. The black eyed man coming at her, who went by the name Pyro, heard the assassins speedy approach and turned on his heel. His hand flew to his belt, where he had a flail hooked on.

Ken, with his gun still pointed at Megan, turned and glanced over his shoulder and Pyro dropped into a defensive stance. Someone playing the hero? With a smile, he turned his eyes back. "Goodbye, Chelsey." And he pulled the trigger once. She had just been about to dart to the side, launching her dive-into-ocean escape plan into action, when the bullet hit her. The force knocked the wind from her lungs, and sent her crashing back into the dock. Her head bounced and she saw literal stars for a moment or two. Then the confusion wore off, and the pain set in...

Off behind the old assassin, the two men who had been chasing her on foot finally caught up. One of them rushed forward, hoping to catch him off guard. Pyro started to swing his flail, eyes locked on the newcomer. He kept his free hand out, fingers twitching, itching to reach out and touch someone.

Boldly Vicente walked up to the pair of men. In his hands he held a pair of throwing knives and there was a look of such determination in his eyes that it could have chilled the soul of the bravest of men. Unfortunately Vicente was not dealing with brave men today. Sadly these were just a pair of stupid men, and stupid men never made the correct decisions. This was evident by the fact that instead of running away scared, they chose to prove their machismo by standing their ground.

Morons.

The assassin cracked his neck to the side as he watched the first man spin around to face him…wielding a flail. Really? Of all things to just carry around with you, this man decided that a flail was his best option? Vicente had to give the man points for originality but that was not enough to allow him to live.

And on top of all that, Ken (if he remembered the name correctly) was completely ignoring. Now that was just a rudeness that Vicente could not stan—

KA-BLAM!!![/b]

The gun went off and Vicente watched as Megan caught the bullet and went down in a heap. So much for saving her life. Oh well, he was not here simply to save her, he wanted Ken off the streets. So long as he still had that goal in mind, he was golden. Speaking of…

As he stood there, watching the flail carrying man, the assassin narrowed his eyes. So these people wanted to see him in action? He was only too happy to oblige. Tilting his head to the side, he said nothing as suddenly the bones of his skull began to crack and shift. Before long the muscle under his skin began to bulge and shift along with the bones, causing his flesh to stretch out to accommodate the entirely new shape. Golden colored fur sprang up from his pores but before he could fully shift he caught the sounds of movement behind him.

He remained still, his hands still holding the throwing knives ready. When he heard the men approaching closer and closer, Vicente suddenly threw both his arms backward and sent the blades whirling through the air. Both men screamed out as his blades found home in separate parts of their bodies. Once they had collapsed into bleeding heaps, the assassin snarled as he stood up straight and lifted his head.

His new head; that of a furry, predatory-eyed, golden-maned African lion.

Licking his yellowed fangs, the lion-headed assassin suddenly let out an ear-piercing roar of challenge:

“RRRRRRRWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!

Standing up straight, the assassin reached into his leather trenchcoat and pulled out a large machete he normally carried with him. Eyeing the flail man again, he snarled as he suddenly ran for him. He’d save Ken for last. He deserved that…

Ken turned away from Megan, figuring that he had gotten her cleanly in the chest. He stayed behind Pyro, fully content with letting the more experienced fighter do all of the work... but kept his gun out, just in case. He had recognized the man of course, as the one who had punched him in the face. Good... the old guy has been next on his list anyway. Pyro wasn't' worried, all he had to do was get in close and touch the guy. That was how he won most of his battles, anyway.

But... then the guy started doing something. Shifting, it seemed. Ken and Pyron exchanged quick glances. He had been prepared to take care of a problem, mainly one woman, who hadn't turned out all that hard to kill. He hadn't prepared himself for any kind of mutant vs. mutant fighting. Not that he was frighte-

The assassin acted much quicker than either of them would have expected. He took down two men with expertly thrown knives, and then turned back. Pyro gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers, and readied himself for a real battle. The lion faced man withdrew a large blade from inside his coat, while the deafening roar he had let loose on them was still ringing in their ears. Pyro accepted the challenge, grinning from ear to ear, and lurched forward. He brought his flail up and back, gaining momentum to strike. Then brought it around, quickly and violently, at the lion's shoulder. His other hand, he sent straight for the man's machete wielding arm. Ken, ever impatient and a little frightened at the guys sudden change and new ferocity, raised his gun and fired off a shot, aiming for the much taller lion faced mutant.

Behind him, while everyone's attention was elsewhere, Megan pushed herself into a sitting position and turned pained eyes toward the fight. She hadn't seen the face of whoever it was who had barged in on the little party.. but at least he was making a great distraction of himself. As the roar filled the air, she crawled quickly over to he edge of the dock, then let herself drop into the freezing water below. With a loud splash, she felt the shock of the cold lock her body up momentarily, but fought it back. She knew that there were a few ladders scattered about, a safety precaution for people falling into the water. Like she had. Paddling her way down the cement wall that lined most of the dock, she finally found a ladder and hauled herself up. Dripping water, she let herself lean up against a warehouse wall, and rolled her hoodie up. Underneath her coat and shirt she had on an experimental vest she had been toying around with. Oddly enough, it had seemed to come in handy, and had mostly worked. The vest had stopped the bullet, but she could feel the beginnings of a terrible bruise underneath... Lucky for her she had been shot just below the shoulder, so no broken ribs for her.

Plucking the ruined lead bullet out, she pushed away from the wall and moved inside the building. Whoever won the battle back there on the dock she didn't really care. She just hoped that if it was Ken, he'd think she had rolled off the dock and sank to the bottom. Slumping into the warehouse, she noticed one thing very quickly. It looked as it someone had been in it not long ago... and that someone had been tossing around knives. Knives that... looked mysteriously familiar. Wincing as she bent down, Megan fished the dagger secured in her boot out, and held it up. Yep. The same kind. Her curiosity sparked, so she glanced around. A few large crates were stored against the wall off to her right. Figuring that she'd lay low for a while, she hoisted herself up onto the top and made herself comfortable, picking the bits and pieces of bullet fragments from her silk vest prototype.

The challenge had been laid down so there was little for the flail carrying man to do other than to answer it. Vicente watched as the man shouted his own pathetic war cry and suddenly threw himself into the fray. The flail spun through the air, his hand was stretched out, even the second man, Ken, had raised the gun and opened fire. So much was happening at one time that any normal man would have been completely derailed by the situation. They probably would have curled up into a ball, whimpered and cried and waited for the whole thing to be over with.

Vicente was not like normal people.

Years of training had honed the assassin to have a true, warrior’s edge when it came down to a fight. Instantly he assessed the man with the flail, his open hand, and Ken with the gun. His mind worked fast to come up with the best possible course of action that would not lead to his dead. In the blink of an eye, he had his actions laid out.

Dashing to Flail, Vicente suddenly raised his thick machete and held it at such an angle that it completely bloated out the appearance of Ken. While this may have seemed like folly on his part, there was a method to the madness. With the machete held up, he tightened his muscles the second the heard the gun fire. Though he did not see the bullet fly through the air, Vicente heard it as it CLANGED! against the smooth steel of the machete and ricocheted off into an unknown direction.

With the pesky bullet taken care of, Vicente could not focus on the medieval man in front of him who was charging as if he were a linebacker. The assassin could only grin as he charged full force at man. The flail torn through the air and, while that was unpredictable, it was fairly simple to dodge. Vicente merely sidestepped and threw the full weight of his shoulder the man’s chest.

Unfortunately he did not mean for the man grab his wrist…

The second that the fingers curled around his wrist, Vicente felt the burning of his flesh flaring throughout his body. Through his predatory eyes, he glared at the menacing look of sadism that flashed across the Flail-man’s face. Whatever this effect was, it was obvious that he meant for it to happen, that it was happening because it was HIS will to do so. The man was obviously a mutant and a damned dangerous one at that. His skin bubbling, and the man not relinquishing his grip any time soon, Vicente let out another terrifying roar as he suddenly kicked out, hard, directly into his oversized gut.

“OOOOOAAAAFFFFFFPPPPPH!!!” the man gasped as all the air was leeched from his lungs.

He collapsed down onto his knees just as a cowering Ken raised his good again and fired another shot at Vicente. Again his machete went up and deflected the bullet with ease. The assassin turned his golden eyes upon Ken and snarled.

“Stop that,” he calmly said as he turned his attention back to the other.

The man struggled to breathe as he sat on his knees, clutching his stomach and eyeing the medieval flail that he had dropped in the process. Vicente snarled as he walked up to the man and angrily kicked the flail away. His wrist was still throbbing where the mutant had gripped him but Vicente merely bared his teeth; he showed absolutely no outer appearance of pain.

When Flail had tried to reach out and grab him again, Vicente merely grunt and set his foot on top of the man’s hand and maliciously ground his heel into the soft digits. Hearing a few bones break, and the gasps of pain, Vicente smirked as he eyed the man.

“Never start a fight you cannot win,” he growled.

SLASH!!![/b]

The machete held at his side was dotted with crimson and steamed hot. He turned his attention back to Ken who was now cringing against a corner of the dock. He stalked up maliciously but paused when he caught a scent in the air. Sniffing he soon realized what it was that he was smelling. It was disgusting but he had to chuckle hoarsely as he tilted his head towards Ken.

“Wet yourself? Pathetic.” he growled as he stormed up to him and roughly seized him by the collar of his shirt.

“Nooo! No ma! Pleeease! I didn’t mean nothing!!” he tried to scream through his wired jaw.

The assassin only smirked as he pulled him closer to his liony head.

“I’m not going to kill you, Ken,” Vicente whispered. “But…I am going to make sure that you never, EVER forget how much of a coward you are.”

****

Vicente sighed as he strolled back to the spot he had been practicing in. Calmly he wiped blood from his machete with the discarded handkerchief from the flail-carrying man. The screams of Ken were still fresh in his ears but the assassin soon forgot them. He had nothing to fear from that man again. After all, how could he fear reprisal from a man who would never be able to pick up anything ever again?

He smirked at the thought of his own handiwork and returned back to his training spot. The bodies had been cleared up, Megan had disappeared (probably swallowed whole by the waves), and Leon still had not shown up. Needless to say…he still had some time to kill.

A screaming filled the air in the distance, perking her ears and causing her to snap back to attention. Sounded like someone was in a lot of pain.

Good. She thought, dropping her eyes back down to scuffed up black nails. The thought of those jerks getting what they deserved, if not more, made the terrible pain throbbing in her shoulder at least a little worth while. Sitting back, she sighed and waited. Either everyone had died out there... or who she though the knives belonged to had left. Hell, maybe Ken had chickened out and ran, and the mystery man had given chase? She snorted. It wouldn't have surprised her. Given all of his boasting and threatening words, the man had been a sissy when it came to actually fighting his own battles.

Moments later someone joined her. She hadn't had to wait long after all.... A large figure stalked into the warehouse, decked out in a long dark coat, and carrying himself with long powerful strides. She stared for a moment, not quite sure if the dark was playing tricks on her eyes, but it looked like... Nah! It couldn't be! ...right..?

The guy had a lion's head... She wondered momentarily if her hunch was wrong, about who the knives belonged to, but quickly dropped the worry. She was positive....err... almost positive. The guy had a similar body shape, same stride, and he was in the same place as her suspect blades. Not only that, but she could clearly remember how Rafael had mutated his arm into that of a monkey. So, a lion face wasn't a big leap in her mind. Toying with the knives in her lap, she glanced down at it once more, before deciding to test her theory. It was a good thing she had taken the time to remove the blades from the wooden target before clambering up into her hiding place. She didn't exactly want to leave whoever it was with more ammo to use against her.

Megan hooked one leg over the side of the crate she was on, looking down from four or more feet above him, and swung her leg casually. "Nice mane." She stated bluntly, loud enough for her voice to be clearly heard. She figured if it was him... she'd have to dodge a knife or two, since he had seemed to have quite a few on his person the last time they had met. Not that knife dodging is easy. She thought, recalling how expertly he had wielded his. Especially when it was an assassin throwing them, and not some average wannabe... If it wasn't him... well, she'd probably have another invigorating run on her hands from whatever crazy person it was that had decided to take on Ken and his little gang. Not to mention she'd be more than a little disappointed.

"However do you get it so thick and luxurious?"

Vicente snarled as he stepped back into his hiding spot. That little fight with Ken and his cronies happened to be a rather good work out. He was not expecting to fight a fellow creature blessed by the gods, but in the end his skills managed to prove him to be the victor. But now that the fight was over, and Megan was gone, he was going to get himself back in the mindset of the task at hand. He needed to keep an eye out for Leon. He hoped that the scuffle on the docks had not scared the boy off or he was going to have to go back to square one.

Storming back into place, the lion-headed man suddenly paused and sniffed the air. He caught the smell of something in the air, something that he knew did not belong. It smelled as if someone else were here, even though he could not see them. Pausing in his tracks he glanced around the area and stopped when he looked at the target. He knew for sure that he had left at least one of his throwing knives stuck into the wall and no suddenly it was gone? He growled.

Once again he sniffed and slowly began to follow the trail with his head until..

>> "Nice mane…However do you get it so thick and luxurious?"[/color]

Teeth bared, Vicente looked up angrily, ready to scare off the intruder. He did not like it when tricks were played on him and he was going to make this person suffer for attempting to do so. But as he raised the machete in his tightening fist, he narrowed his predatory eyes upon the figure that was lounging on the crates above. He knew it all to well…

“Megan?” he asked in both astonishment and irritation. “I saw you shot dead.”

Cracking his neck to the side, Vicente growled and snarled as his face began to reshape itself. Slowly it decreased in size until it was that of a human’s again. His normal facial features returned but that did not make the man any less scary. Instead he just looked down right irritated and even more terrifying. His black hair hung loosely, he narrowed his eyes as he raised them to meet Megan’s. He still had not lowered the machete held between his fingers.

“Let me guess, you died and even Mictlantecuhtli and his wife, Mictecacihuatl, found you to too irritating for their realm?” he spat. Very slowly he lowered the blade in his hand but refused to lift his gaze from her. “You ruined my apartment, you little spider weaver. Do you realize how much money it took to fix it? How much YOU now owe me?”

Grinning from ear to ear, she couldn't help but giggle. Apperantly her ruse had worked on the dock. It was abnormal for one of her plans to actually work, so the feeling of victory was nearly overwhelming.

“Let me guess, you died and even Mictlantecuhtli and his wife, Mictecacihuatl, found you to too irritating for their realm?”

The names he spouted didn't sound familiar to her. She shrugged one shoulder lazily, and lifted her coat and shirt to show him the vest she had created that lay under. Her sewing needed work, that much was obvious. But the layers and layers of web, woven together and infused with layers of think ballistics gelatin she had bought online, had stopped a bullet all the same. She just needed to tinker with the thickness, and adjust the straps holding it to her. "Never even knocked on their door."

“You ruined my apartment, you little spider weaver. Do you realize how much money it took to fix it? How much YOU now owe me?”

"I was drunk, you can't hold me to that." Ahhh, party logic. "...and maybe the next time you take a girl home with you, you shouldn't pass her off as a prostitute. We don't usually take kindly to it." As far as she was concerned, she had made his boring ceiling less ugly on the eyes. He had owed her anyway, for the whole butt grabbing incident.

But... she was in his debt for other things. A position she didn't very often like to be in. "I guess I do owe you something though, considering how you made such an excellent distraction. I doubt my prototype would have worked if had he shot me multiple times." Not to mention the other mutant he had with him. Silk didn't stand a chance against crazy fire hands, and she didn't much like the idea of being burned alive. Her eyes drifted to the bloodied machete at his side. She cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly caught off guard by the weapon. Who carried around one of those in the city? Crazy good murderer's who like to chop people into little bits. Her mind replied back.

"....Who's Mictlantecuhtl, anyway?" That name was a mouthful. Megan pinned her blue eyes on him, red eyeshadow making the light icy color pop in the darkness. She slightly curious, mostly due to never having heard the names before, but not willing to question more anymore than that. If he felt like spilling, she'd listen. If not, she'd get back to what she had been doing before Ken had gotten a stick up his butt. Using the knife she had originally swiped from him, she set about carving a little crudely drawn spider in the wood next to her thigh.

The assassin glared up at the woman who looked so dismissively at what he had just told her. She had literally ruined his apartment! She stuck everything up on the ceiling and it took himself and a good cleaning crew who could keep their mouths shut, a lot of time to bring everything down. Most of it he had to throw away because the webbing on it was far too strong for him to remove without breaking the damn things. But after a sufficient amount of money, he got the apartment looking like it had before. One thing was for sure, though, he was never letting her back inside.

He sighed as he kept the machete dangling at his side, as if unsure whether or not he wanted to use it to chop her up into tiny little bits. After all, that was a lot of money he wasted thanks to her, simply for the purposes of keeping up appearances. Maybe he should have just truly ended her life. It would save him a lot of trouble…

>> "I was drunk, you can't hold me to that...and maybe the next time you take a girl home with you, you shouldn't pass her off as a prostitute. We don't usually take to kindly to it."[/color]

He shrugged. He did what he had to in order to keep her alive. Megan was in a territory that she should have never been in the first place. But he guessed that he did kind of put her in that situation. He should have sent her away earlier but she was stubborn enough to not leave and she actually helped him get back into his home. It was quite possible that he did owe her that much to let her live.

>> "I guess I do owe you something though, considering how you made such an excellent distraction. I doubt my prototype would have worked if had he shot me multiple times."[/color]

“Trust me,” he said. “You ever need to get shot, you can trust me.”

Eyebrow arched, he looked at the “vest” that she showed him. The webbing was familiar and he remembered how tough it was the last time when he tried to remove it from his wall and from his ceiling. But one glance at this one and he had to marvel a little. Did it really just stop a bullet? Judging from what he saw back at the docks it was apparently true. He had to admit that that was mighty impressive.

>> "....Who's Mictlantecuhtl, anyway?"[/color]

She feigned curiosity. He wondered if he should even tell one as unenlightened as her. After all, it was obvious that she did not believe in the ways that he did. She was not one of his people so why should it matter? But Vicente did love to stick it to the Authority whenever he could. And this would just be another possibility…

Wiping the blood free from the machete, he finally decided to sheath it back into its holder beneath his coat. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he did one more scan for Leon before he just leaned back against the wall. He guessed he could stand to waste a bit of time…

“Mictlantecuhtl is the lord of Mictlan, the underworld, and one of the four Skybearers,” Vicente explained. “It is to him that I owe my skills, gifts, and allegiance to. My appeasing him, by filling the coffers of his realm with the dead, he grants me his blessings not only in this world, but the next. It is to him that I prove myself as a nahaul.” Calmly he raised his eyes as he locked onto her. “Do you know of what I speak of? Or do you follow the lies of the Authority?”

“You ever need to get shot, you can trust me.”

She grinned to herself. Having friends was fun! She watched silently, letting a comfortable smirk befall her lips. The only people you could ever really trust, were the ones to could readily stab you in the back. Or eat you, in Roaches case.

“Mictlantecuhtl is the lord of Mictlan, the underworld, and one of the four Skybearers, It is to him that I owe my skills, gifts, and allegiance to. My appeasing him, by filling the coffers of his realm with the dead, he grants me his blessings not only in this world, but the next. It is to him that I prove myself as a nahaul.”

Nahaul... Another name she didn't know. Maybe it was some hocus-pocus word for assassin, or mutant. He certainly wouldn't have been the first mutie she had met who believed themselves touched by gods. It seemed like people were quick to jump upon ridiculous explanations for things they didn't understand. She snorted softly, unbelieving, but not dismissing.

“Do you know of what I speak of? Or do you follow the lies of the Authority?”

Having let her eyes slipped closed while he had been talking. Did she follow the lies of the authority? Now he sounded like an anarchist. Pounding his fists against the wall 'the man' had put up. Only the man was probably not the government, in this case. "I don't follow anything... least of all authority." She muttered, cracking one eye open to look back at him. If he was talking religion, he was barking up the wrong tree. She believed in nothing. Zip, zilch, nadda. The last time she had believed in anything had... ended badly. "...don't know much lore, there's not really any use for it these days. Most people seem too content with keeping their heads firmly shoved up the churches backside, to look around and consider other possibilities." God, now she sounded all serious. Abandoning the little spider at her side, she crossed her arms behind her head and flopped back onto the crate.

"but...I once read up on gods and the like. ...Arachne, Anansi, Neith... Jorogumo." She chuckled at that last one. Thinking about Japanese women luring men in close, transforming into a hideous spider demon, then devouring them alive... Now that was a demon she could relate too. But it was still just a myth. She wasn't the demon offspring of some spider god and goddess getting it on, she wasn't cursed, or blessed... She was just a human with mutated genes, who could create horrible, eight legged life from her skin. "When I was a kid, I believed in the Spider Grandmother. That she created the stars by spinning a web dotted with dew and throwing it into the sky." A beautiful image, but it hadn't stuck with her long. Though it had certainly made her feel better about her mutation at the time... back before Trent had filled her with spiteful mutant pride.

"But then I grew up, and things like that became a lot harder to believe in." Opening her eyes, she stared at the ceiling. Sometines... she envied people who did. People who devoted their lives to one path, and honestly believed that some kind all knowing god was watching over them. It was Bullsh*t. Shrugging, she answered. "... Don't really believe in anything, right now."

>> "I don't follow anything... least of all authority….don't know much lore, there's not really any use for it these days. Most people seem too content with keeping their heads firmly shoved up the churches backside, to look around and consider other possibilities."[/color]

The assassin had to smirk at this comment. That last part pretty much summed up his entire view on the mainstream religions and their stranglehold on the rest of the world. Because of them, religions like his own were stamped out of existence and those that practiced them were persecuted. All because the lies of the Authority, the unnamed God, managed to reach a large number of people and pull them all under His views. It was ridiculous and Vicente knew that the truth needed to be laid out there. Vicente could convert them all if he had to.

But he was also not surprised by Megan’s comment. She really did not look like the type of person how had a strong personal view when it came to religion. She seemed like one of those free floaters who didn’t align herself with anyone of the off chance that the one she put her hope and trust in turned out to be false. In a way he pitied her…but he was not surprised.

>> "But...I once read up on gods and the like. ...Arachne, Anansi, Neith... Jorogumo… When I was a kid, I believed in the Spider Grandmother. That she created the stars by spinning a web dotted with dew and throwing it into the sky."[/color]

He paused as he listened to her intently. In all the times that he had met her, that probably had to be the most open that she had ever discussed anything with him. It was sincere, even he could hear that in her voice, but at the same time it said a lot about the type of person that she was. Part of him wondered if maybe, deep down, there was a tiny spark of her left. Something that was willing to learn the old ways, to take a chance in the.

It was a long shot, he knew that. By all rights, every instinct in him told him just to end her life. It would be easier for everyone involved. As a matter of fact, he would probably be doing her a favor. She got into enough trouble where a permanent solution to her miserable life seemed like it would be desirable. But he said nothing of this option. Instead he just watched her curiously as she continued on.

>> "But then I grew up, and things like that became a lot harder to believe in... Don't really believe in anything, right now."[/color]

He sighed as he raised his eyes to meet her’s again.

“So long as you do not follow the Authority,” he muttered. “My way of teaching may not be right for you, little spiderling. Though I do believe that you belong to the court of the Great Goddess of Teotihuacan, the Spider Woman. They say that—“ he paused when he suddenly hear something pierce through the silence of the alleyway. His head snapping around to the entrance, he heard the small, timid steps, and his eyes automatically narrowed. It was Leon, it had to be. He growled at Megan before he stalked down the alley. “Stay here…”

“My way of teaching may not be right for you, little spiderling. Though I do believe that you belong to the court of the Great Goddess of Teotihuacan, the Spider Woman. They say that— Stay here.”

He turned, and stalked off into the shadows. Megan didn’t need to watch him go, nor did she need to wonder what it was that he had heard. She was curious, sure, but she had a few spiders on the outside who would radio in and let her know if things got wacky.

Instead, she mulled over what he had told her, chuckling at the name he had called her. First spider weaver and now little spiderling? They were cute names... and she would have never expected him to utter them. ...Then again, she didn’t know the man that well at all. The twenty five year old fished her phone from her pocket, flipping it open and typing a few words into her web browser. Many of the things he had said were a mystery. Who was Teotihuacan? Other than a spider woman, obviously. She managed to massacre the spelling of the name a few times, before the search bar figured out what she was trying to type. A multitude of pages assaulted her, many of which were about temples and ruined cities. Laying where she was, she simply scanned through one page after another, mumbling things under her breath as she narrowed down the information to what she was really looking for. The great goddess, huh? Associated with spiders, owls, and jaguar. With the darkness of night... creation, gift giving, and eternal paradise.

It was an interesting character. Another deity to add to her list of known gods. But it didn’t really sound like anything she’d be even remotely connected to. One search then led to another, and she found herself looking up the names he had spoken before. The kind of the underworld... who was, for lack of better words, freaking creepy and then the Nahaul. Eventually everything just kind of blurred together after a while. Mortals turning themselves into animals to serve gods, and gods who were pretty odd ball themselves. Snapping the phone shut and returning it to her pocket, she turned back to gazing up at the ceiling, letting all of the wacky info she had just read sink in a little. (even though she knew full well she’d probably forget it in the morning) Above her, there was a crack of light. A metal panel had come loose. A darkening sky peeked through, oranges and reds blending into deep blue. Fluffy clouds floated past... but there were no stars. It had been years since she had seen stars. The kind of skyline she remembered from back home in Oregon, sitting high up in the mountains.... trees surrounding her in every direction. On clear nights she could lay there and map out the universe, letting every inch of the milky-way wash down on her. She had shared many of those nights with another. Her head cradled in his lap as he pointed out all of the constellations and their various stories...

Her lips dipped bitterly, but nothing stirred within her chest. She was numb to those old feelings, most of the time anyway, and it was best to keep it so. Still, she did miss that skyline. Lifting a hand to her lips, she pinched a little bit of silk between her fingers and pulled, using her other hand to stretch it out into a little web. With it strung between her digits, small droplets of sticky saliva clinging to the threads, she lifted her hands above her. Over the crack of sky. It was a shoddy imitation at best.... but it made her smile all the same.