"For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not from the Father."
— 1 John 2:16 (NIV)
While the events in the forest unfolded, SSA Nika was sitting behind her desk, still dumbfounded by the sad news she had just received. Pearce? Dead? She couldn't believe it. The man was one of the best researchers in the entire bureau. He had a strong dedication to his work and an even stronger ability.
"Elise? Can you tell me what happened?" Nika asked, retrieving her notepad. There was a long, unsettling pause. "Hello? Agent Elise, do you copy?" Nika asked, growing slightly anxious.
"I think you should hear the rest from the higher-ups. I don't have the authority to reveal..." The line died abruptly, leaving the woman with more questions than answers and a feeling of dread welling in her bosom.
Elise Everheart had quickly hung up when she saw two familiar figures walk through the automatic doors of Lunaria Central's research facility.
"Elise, darling! We weren't expecting you!" A bald man smiled thinly.
"SSA Maelstrom and Section Chief Sterling-Rowe," Elise muttered, sweat coating her palms. "How are your days going? Hope I am not interrupting any research."
The gray-haired man, Sterling-Rowe, chuckled. "Quite the contrary. We are here to check up on you! I understand the lab incident was... unfortunate. My sincere apologies." The young woman could only look at her superiors in disbelief.
A cold wave of revulsion washed over her. They knew. These men had already been informed about what transpired at Dunkelheit. For all she knew, they watched it happen. Her coworkers and friends were dead. And yet all they saw was an incident.
Maintaining her composure, she replied: "It was an unfortunate event indeed. I'm just glad I made it back."
Maelstrom nodded his head, gesturing for her to walk with them. "As are we! Come now; we shouldn't keep Joseph waiting."
Joseph?
"You must have met him already. Slender man, not much of a talker. He is Mr. H's assistant, and he sent for you."
Fear crept up Elise's spine. She was the only surviving scientist who performed those unorthodox experiments — and now the man who had sanctioned them wanted her brought in. She followed without protest, hoping she wouldn't simply be made to disappear, her name reduced to a classified file buried in a confidential archive.
Back at the precinct, Traz'gaxaun was in the belly of the beast. Surrounding him were multiple law enforcement agents, Seraphites, Netherites, and mundanes alike. There were a few distinct ichor signatures, but nothing too powerful for him to handle. The demon couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. He took pride in his nature; he was a master of deception and cunning. With a little influence and suggestion on their weak human minds, he had managed to create a false scenario and force them to accept it as their new reality. To top it off, it wasn't a risky gamble; he could easily kill or neutralise the policemen if they pushed through his mind control.
Tristan... Traz'gaxaun... I'll answer to Tristan for now.
The demon was slowly but surely worming his way into human civilisation.
"My God, Ken! What's the situation?" A tall man with a buzz cut asked, eyeing Tristan in confusion.
"This one was 'streaking' near the void woods. Unfortunately, he managed to slip past us, and there was a breach. Nothing too serious, Joey." Ken replied. "We are taking this one in for questioning. You lot can check the crime scene." Gerald said, grabbing Tristan by the arm.
The sudden contact irritated the demon, causing him to recoil but not noticeably.
Unhand me, unfulfilled bag of flesh.
Joey raised his eyebrow at Gerald. "Questioning? Looking like that? C'mon, man; the poor fella is as white as whatever ghost he saw out there! Plus, he's butt naked; you wanna take photographs of a bloody, naked man?" Joey asked, still behind on whatever was going on.
"Won't be the first time." A short, black man interrupted, causing Ken to snicker at his partner.
"For some reason, you both didn't call the case in or for backup. What if the breach was bigger than you could handle? And how did you even fix the gate breach..." Gerald waved his hand, interrupting the man. "This is exactly why you should be on your merry way, Tom. It's now both your responsibilities to handle that scene. We will handle the suspect; take some weight off your shoulders." Gerald finished, storming off with Tristan trailing after him.
"What's gotten into your partner, Kennedy?" Tom asked, gearing up to leave for his shift.
"Long day at work, I guess. Or gambling withdrawals." Ken shrugged.
"Well, whatever it is, he'd better get his head in the game. Our shifts are doubling next week; the Bloodletter has finally made an appearance in the Big Apple." Joey said as he headed out with his partner.
Meanwhile, Gerald had escorted Tristan to the changing area. "There's a shower and some clothes for your pale ass in there. You have two minutes."
Tristan walked into the changing room, and the first thing that caught his eye was the clothes.
NYPD? Another lousy uniform? This won't do, especially on the outside.
The shoes were adequate; there were no identifiers that he had acquired them for a New York precinct.
Initially, when Gerald grabbed him, the thought of killing everyone at the station crossed his mind, but he had to resist his nature. He had to remind himself of his motivator continuously: freedom. The demon stepped under the shower and let the cold stream strip the blood, guts, and dirt from his skin and hair. It didn't take long for his pale skin to be completely pristine: a feeling he wasn't used to. He grabbed the towel and dried himself, then made his way to the door, opening it.
Sure enough, Gerald was waiting outside the room. The policeman's gaze fell on his naked body, and he grimaced. "Son, I told you there are clothes in there. If I have to see you bare one more time today..."
Tristan snapped his finger, drawing the cop's gaze to his face. "Obey," Tristan ordered, eyes blazing scarlet with demonic influence. Gerald's entire demeanor changed; he became stiff like a wound-up toy, eyes void of emotion. The demon smirked to himself; the suggestion he left was in motion. "Send for your friend and get me a better set of clothes. And I want your money; all of it. When you acquire both items, return here."
Like a toy soldier, the man walked off in a monotonous manner. Not long after, his ears were greeted by a knock on the door.
"Mr Ashborne? It's been 20 minutes; I'm afraid I have to come in now."
Tristan forcefully opened the door, grabbing the man's neck and forcing his gaze to his. "Hello again, Ken. I would like you to give me all the money in your tiny compartment." He demanded. As expected, the poor Seraphite's mind buckled to the demon's influence: he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and retrieved all the notes in it. "Stay and wait for further instructions."
The familiar, monotone footsteps of Gerald greeted Tristan's ears. "Ah, look: your partner has returned." He sneered, shoving past Ken, grabbing the new clothes and the money.
These mortals treat this thing like they treat their god. I'll get as much as I can.
Tristan retreated into the changing room and donned the clothes: a long-sleeve black shirt, a pair of black jeans, and a pair of white-laced shoes.
The demon walked to the mirror to admire his new look. He wasn't completely accustomed to the human style, but with time, he would get used to it. To him, clothes were nothing but a distraction and a deterrent in combat, but here everyone wore them; he had to blend in. Taking one last glance at himself, Tristan walked back to the officers waiting "patiently" outside.
"Gentlemen?" The officers turned to him like puppets. "This is my parting gift to you! I'm putting your lives in the justice system that you have fought for and served for years. I want you both to go outside to the report room, and kindly take the lives of all the men and women in sight. Go all out! Have fun!" He laughed coldly. "And when you are inevitably caught, I want you both to forget everything that you have done and all interactions with me. Understood?"
The men nodded their heads slowly and made their way to the report room to carry out the heinous task.
And now the show begins!
Tristan smirked to himself as he closed the changing room door and waited for chaos to ensue.
It didn't take long for screams and yells to fill the station. His nose caught the coppery scent of blood and gunpowder. "All units, respond immediately! We have a blue-on-blue situation. Requesting urgent assistance." A radio buzzed in the distance.
Tristan walked out of the changing room, ignoring the screams of the men around him. A smile slowly crept up the sides of his face as he walked into the report room. As he expected, it was an absolute mess. Ken and Gerald had gone rabid on their colleagues, shooting and blasting their abilities. To make it worse, they shrugged off all the gunshot wounds like they were nothing and relentlessly continued their assault. The desks and other computers had been shattered in the crossfire or used as cover during the shootout. A look of pure bliss slowly crept up Tristan's face; the sight was beautiful.
Sadly, he couldn't stay long enough to enjoy it; he had to get out of here before the officers caught... "Hey, you!" A hand suddenly grabbed Tristan, interrupting his train of thought.
"Aren't you..." Tristan's eyes blazed red as he peered into the lady's soul. "Fall!"
The policewoman's entire body went limp. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her knees buckled under her. Tristan stepped over the collapsed woman, wiping his sleeve in disgust.
Pathetic worm.
The demon made his way out of the precinct and walked till he was at the entrance outside. Without any hesitation, he leaped over the gate, ignoring the radioman rallying units to follow suit. The demon shot off his feet with a blur, the precinct disappearing behind him. His scarlet eyes glowed as he further enhanced his senses, searching for a pit stop far enough from the police department. After a couple of minutes of sprinting through the night, he made a stop at a large building; the largest he had seen since he came to the surface.
Humans and their obsession with infrastructure. Logzeros Royale, eh? Sounds suitable enough for a sanctum.
Tristan walked into the hotel, and his eyes were immediately assaulted by the glare of multiple lights. The lobby was nothing short of grand: the walls were almost pure white, lined with intricate, golden decor. A handful of Netherites gathered close to the exit, chatting away. The demon's nose twitched slightly.
This scent... This is vampire territory.
The demon couldn't care less for other Netherites; he would treat them like every other person in this world: a flaw to exploit or an obstacle to eliminate. Ignoring them, he spotted a man in a red hat at the front desk, who greeted him with a subtle nod.
Another uniform. Must be a person of importance.
Tristan made his way to the man.
"Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation, or are you interested in booking a room?" The man inquired.
"I have a thousand dollars. I want to stay here." Tristan replied bluntly.
The vampire adjusted his hat nervously. "Um, sir, a thousand dollars would only get you one night with barely any premium packages."
Mortals and their matters of triviality.
He was losing his patience. It was getting harder and harder to suppress the urge to kill or brainwash all non-compliant people outright. "I need more than one night. And I'm not asking." Tristan growled.
Unfortunately, the front man wasn't phased at all; he raised his eyebrow in confusion. "Look, pal, I'm not sure you know where you are, but you don't want to start anything here. You want a free room in Logzeros? You'd better be able to clean floors for the rest of your life!"
Anger welled in Tristan's chest, his countenance darkening. A soft hand fell on his shoulder, catching him completely off guard.
These animals can never keep their hands to themselves!
On instinct, he reached for the arm to detach it from the poor sod's body, but the person's next words made him hesitate.
"How long do you want to stay here, stranger?" A velvety, female voice asked.
"As long as I want," Tristan replied bluntly.
The woman chuckled, finally retrieving her hand from his shoulder. "Very well. Brandon, prepare a permanent room for..." She paused.
"Tristan. Tristan Ashborne."
Without any objection, Brandon signalled to the other lobby personnel, and they scurried off to make preparations. "Ashborne, eh? That's quite the surname. If I'm not mistaken, you're a Seraphite."
Tristan smirked softly. "Yes, a Seraphite. And this place reeks of vamps."
The lady clutched her chest, feigning shock. "My, my! No need to be racist. Do you have something against vampires?" She chuckled.
"Why did you give me a free room, woman?"
The vampire facepalmed, shaking her head in frustration. "And misogynist too? Tristan, dear, I'm trying to get along with you here."
Yet the demon wasn't satisfied. What is this flattery? Perhaps she wants a favour or something in return. Or maybe someone sent her!
Tristan's eyes widened as he immediately darted backwards, putting distance between them. "Who sent you?" He growled, eyes darting around the room.
The woman raised her eyebrow in confusion and just stared at him. After minutes that seemed like years, she burst out laughing. "Tristan Ashborne, you're quite an interesting one indeed! You need to relax; no one sent me." She replied, slowly walking towards him. "Right now, the hotel staff are still preparing your room. I'd like to have a word with you in private. Then I'll explain my hospitality."
Tristan stared at the woman intently. His senses weren't picking up anything unusual; she didn't seem like a threat to him. Nevertheless, he kept his guard up.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Lady Drusilla Nocturne. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." The woman stretched her hand out, beckoning Tristan to follow her.
The demon completely ignored the gesture. "Lead the way," he said bluntly.
Drusilla led Tristan to her hotel room. The entire room had been designed to limit sunlight exposure, as it irritated vampires and slightly weakened them. Its interior was even more stunning than the lobby: the room was expansive, with purple drapes tied back with a gold cord and light gray walls. A king-sized bed sat at the centre of the room, anchored against the wall, white covers rumpled. Yet Tristan stood, unimpressed and uninterested.
"You see, when I spotted you in the lobby, a light bulb turned on in my head. Red hair and eyes! You're clearly not from around here, and your conversation with Brandon proved it." She said.
"All I did was ask for a room. How did that give me away?" Tristan asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
Drusilla walked past him and plopped herself on the bed. "You were threatening a receptionist to give you a hotel room indefinitely. Not just any receptionist; the receptionist of Logzeros hotel! I put together two things: either you were a foreigner, or you had lost your fucking marbles." She chuckled.
"Cut to the chase," Tristan replied impatiently.
"As you wish. You see, I have a peculiar problem that can only be solved by external help. My own family has likely been compromised or couldn't care less what happened to me. So I want us to make a deal: my resources for your protection."
Tristan raised his eyebrow in confusion. "Protection? From a person you just met? Have you lost your mind?" Tristan chuckled.
Drusilla's demeanor slowly shifted to a serious one, making Tristan cautious again. "I'm afraid I am out of options. I cannot afford to hire private defence contractors, as my rivals can easily pay them off. Public contractors are lackeys with abilities that would likely put me in more danger than protect me. So I need external muscle; someone without a past in New York to exploit, someone who can't be paid off. I need you, Tristan."
The demon kept his eyes trained on Drusilla. "How do you know I am up to the task? For all you know, I'm worse than the public contractors you spoke of?" He asked.
Drusilla waved her hand, dismissing him. "Don't you worry about that; I'm rarely wrong about gauging strength. All I want to know is if you are willing to protect me with your life—"
"No." Tristan interrupted, with a face straighter than a ruler. "I refuse to risk my life to protect someone I just met. In fact, I refuse to risk my life for anyone at all. My life is more valuable than a thousand vampires. If you died, it would be but a meaningless tragedy—"
"Ok, I get it! My life is nothing compared to yours, sheesh!" The woman said, shaking her head. "Here I was thinking I had found a strong one. My mistake." She shrugged.
The demon's left eye twitched in annoyance. "What are you trying to insinuate?" He growled.
Drusilla just stared at him blankly. "What I meant to say is I mistook you for someone with strength. I didn't know you would be scared to defend against a couple of vamps."
In a split second, Tristan's hand was around the vampire's throat. "I want you to choose your next words very carefully, as they might be your last."
Drusilla's pale skin slowly began to change to a red tint, but she maintained her composure. "Here you are further proving my point. If your life is worth more than a thousand Netherites, shouldn't you be as strong?" She sneered.
Tristan was slightly shocked by the woman's reaction. Does this mortal not value her life? "You have no idea of the power I possess! It would be foolish to continue to antagonise me." Tristan spat.
"You're right about one thing; I have no idea what power you possess. So show me; take the deal. You will be rewarded with wealth that could feed generations!" She declared.
The demon released Drusilla from his grasp, leaving her to massage her sore neck. "Although wealth is a welcome addition, I have no interest in riches," Tristan said.
"Then what is it you want? What drives Tristan Ashborne?" Drusilla inquired.
The demon paused for a second, an idea crossing his mind. Maybe this partnership might not be so bad after all.
"You said you could give me resources. I want power. I want to grow so strong that the heavens would part when I breathe, and the earth would tremble at my approach." Tristan replied.
This caused the vampire to raise her eyebrows in confusion. "Power? I can't exactly give you that kind of power. I can't turn you since you're a Seraphite. Unfortunately, there are no shortcuts to the kind of power you want."
Tristan quietly strolled past her, attempting to leave the room.
"Wait! There might be something I could do. Have you ever heard of The Ascendants Academy? It is the greatest institution for supernaturals, Seraphites, and Netherites alike. What if I could get you in there? If you really have the drive to be as strong as you described, then that's the only place I can take you."
Her words caused Tristan to stop in his tracks. An academy filled with elite Seraphites and Netherites? A grin began to tug on the sides of his lips. He might have just found the perfect target-rich environment.
"I'm listening." He grinned, his hands uncurling from the doorknob.
Back at the precinct, the chaos had finally come to an end. The two officers who had thrown the place into madness had been apprehended. Unfortunately, the other investigators were not able to extract any information from them.
"Goddammit, what is this bullshit? These two numbskulls can't seem to remember anything!" One of the policemen protested.
"You would think that one of them would have a reason for opening fire on their own colleagues, whom they have known for years, but no. It's almost as if their memories had been wiped. Maybe there is an ability involved? We need the security footage ASAP." The other man replied.
"I'm afraid that will no longer be necessary," a voice said from the back, causing their heads to turn.
"And who the fuck might you be?" One of the men chuckled.
The newcomer adjusted his gloves, making sure his fingertips were well secured at the edges. "Who I am is of no importance, but if you must know..." He drew out a black card. Reading the contents of the card, the colour drained from their faces. "We are deeply sorry for our misconduct, Mr Joseph. If we had known you were here on the assignment from Mr H, we would have comported ourselves better." The man trembled.
Joseph waved his hands in dismissal. "No need. I have looked at the security footage, and I have determined that this is an issue that I will personally take care of, on behalf of Mr H."
"Is there anything you would like us to do to speed up the investigation? It also seems like we had a suspect of a petty crime escape here as well." Joey inquired.
Joseph shook his head. "I have one order from Mr H himself, though. All records of the suspect who escaped today should be erased, along with the security footage. I already have what I need from it, so you can go ahead and destroy it."
"With all due respect, sir, destroying evidence would be going against everything we stand for as policemen. Would it be possible for you to let us at least keep the footage and handle the escaped suspect?" Joey asked. Something didn't sit well with him about the case.
Joseph turned to him, displaying his perfect set of teeth in a strange smile. "I would love to do that, but that would be going against Mr H's will. You wouldn't want to go against him, would you? It won't end well for you at all, I'm afraid."
Joey chose to hold his tongue this time to prevent unnecessary conflict. He didn't know what was going on, and by the looks of things, getting a world power involved was way above his pay grade.
"Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Have a good night!" Joseph said, still smiling at the policemen as he exited the precinct. In his hands was a tablet that displayed a figure with long, dark red hair.