The Beast of Brant Street (Samael, Martyr, Drifter, Veil)

The town of Ellaville sat quietly well beyond the hustle and bustle of rushing New York City traffic. As a suburb of the big apple it saw it's fair share of travelers coming in off the interstate to get a taste of "authentic New York". That was a load of hogwash of course. Ellaville had little to offer to the would be hipster traveler. Not exactly a one horse twin but the place hadn't seen a legitimate entertainment venue since the Newton Theatre shut down in the 80s due to a mold infestation. Now the town was little more than a byway on the way into bigger and brighter things in the city. At least it kept the people busy. No surprise that the hotel motel business was THE business to be in if one intended to stay in the sleepy little town, which most did. Nightly lodgings were passed down from father to son and daughter and so on and so forth as nauseum. The Little Inn, an aptly named five room bed and breakfast boasted to have been owned by the same family since the towns founding in colonial times. And Amber Freist would be the first to tell you about it.

Amber was the proud owner of The Little Inn, something she was well known for in the small town. Just like her mother and grandmother and so on before her she pour d her heart and soul into the place, making sure it head to very modern co fort that the businesses measly earnings could afford. Whatever was left went to her two hounds as she affectionately called them. Buster and Tiny a jack Russell and a pit bull respectively were just as well recognized in the town as Amber, accompanying her wherever she went and keeping guard over The Little Inn for her throughout the night. Not that it needed to be guarded. Ellaville in its entire history had seen six murders, five of which had been over drunken disputes between one particularly belligerent family that lived in their outskirts' outskirts. None the less, Amber enjoyed their company and the since if safety that they provided. A sense that would be shattered not only for her but for the town of Ellaville over the course of one fateful night.

Amber was often prone to long nighttime walks when business was slow and no guests rested in her Inn. Of course Buster and Tiny accompanied her, the smaller of the two often running circles around the larger as they played their little games and barked at passing squirrels. The residents of the town had grown accustomed to these sounds, finding the sound of Amber and her hounds like signal of the end of another day. But this night was different.

As Amber rounded the corner of Maple and Brant, just a miles walk from The Little Inn, buster stopped dead in his tracks.Come on boy she urged, alarmed by the usually playful dog's sudden change in demeanor. She watched as the hair stood on end along his arching back and listened as a low growl emerged from the small dog's muzzle. Buster stop it! she demanded, a chill running down her spine. Tiny tucked his tail between his legs and curled his body up behind Amber, but Buster would not budge. His eyes were fixed on the darkened tree line, that low growl growing louder and more aggressive. Amber began to tremble, maybe there was a wild animal in the woods, a cougar maybe. She'd heard reports from some of the hunters in town that they'd seen them prowling up in the mountains. But she'd never heard of one this close to town. Frightened and wanting nothing more to get out of her situation as far as possible.

Taking a step towards Buster to try to pick him up, her vision was assaulted by a large pitch black figure exploding from the tree line. It's claws reached out, glistening in the light of the street lamps as it swiped at the small dog. A pained whimper escaped the terrier as it was impaled and flung high into the air. Words tried to escape Amber but only a terrified screech squeaked from her throat. but with some spark still in her the readhead managed to scoop up her larger dog and high tail it out of there. As her feet beat against the pavement, she could hear the last desperate yelps from buster before the sounds of tearing flesh and crushing bone.

1 Week Later

The town had changed dramatically in the seven days since Amber's initial attack. People no longer said hello to one another on the street, let alone lingered long enough to see those around them. Things became busy impersonal and then eerily quiet. Just as dusk approached the town would board up and its inhabitants disappeared. All told the town had seen six grizzly murders since the night that Buster died and no one but Amber was talking about it. Desperate for answers and sure that the thing that attacked her head been sort of incarnate monster she reached out to a small paranormal investigation agency, hoping that the man behind it could provide her answers where the local authorities could not.

The light of a laptop screen reflected off a young man's pale face. He was gaunt, tired looking, yet somehow seemed excited. Not a sound could be heard but his random bursts of ferocious typing, which coincided with flashes of color from the laptop. Occasionally, a sly smirk crept up on his face.

The room was dark, cold, and perfectly organized. It was like you just walked into a brand new apartment, electric not in your name and all. The male behind the computer reached for his mug, taking a liberal sip of the coffee it held. It may or may not have been spiked with whiskey.

"Give me an inch......." Drifter said as he finished a keystroke, hitting the enter key particularly hard. He was sending a simple message, not exactly what you picture when you think "hacking."

".......and then i take your life." He concluded, taking his hands off the keyboard as he waited for a response. It only took a minute or two, and he got his reply.

"Downloaded it. Looks good."

The smile that was now plastered on Drifter's face seemed as though it couldn't be replicated by another human being, save maybe a clown. He had just pretended to be a job applicant for a company one of his targets owned. His fake resume had a Trojan Horse attached to it.

You have no idea how fun it's gonna be to see your search history. Maybe I'll even have you come out as gay on Facebook........ But the real good stuff, is the stuff that people want you dead for..... Drifter thought. It would have to wait until tomorrow though. He was a bit tipsy, tired, and staying in an apartment that wasn't his, all so he could visit his brother for a few days.

He was about to get out of his chair when he heard a familiar ringtone. It was Scorpion from Mortal Kombat, saying his trademark line. He had set that on his computer for emails to a very specific account, one he had only given to three people.

Shrugging, and deciding to see if it was some sort of emergency, Drifter opened the email with a few keystrokes. His eyes widened slightly at the sight.

It was from The Veil. It was essentially a thinly, um, veiled, call to arms. From the looks of it, this was something out of his fellow vigilante's expertise. You can't exactly expect to win against a dog eating shadow monster with nothing but a dental laser.

A sting of murders, no bodies, no clue, and no motive. Drifter's pale grey eyes boredly weaved off to the side. He hated dead ends. They were so incomplete, so uncertain. It wasn't that he didn't like a good mystery, but in real life things didn't go like they do in novels. Mysteries usually ended with being confused, and then shortly after, mutilated to death.

But, he owed Veil, and it's not like he wasn't close by. Plus, he was certain he knew a bit more about this kind of thing then his fellow vigilante did. There was paranormal written all over it. A meta would have announced themselves by now, and an animal would have been shot with a 12 gauge by some red neck visiting from Texas. Bottom line, the spooky and mysterious monster was probably just what it seemed like. When you hear hooves, think horses.

Lukas took out his phone, and dialed Veil's number.

"I'll be at the inn in an hour. I'm bringing guns, my gear, snacks, and my shoebox full of Catholic shit." Drifter said into the phone as he got up from his chair to go get ready. Regardless of the response, he hung up afterwards.

Samael let his fingers play along the keys of his laptop, focusing his attention upon the dim lit screen rather intently. Normally he was used to doing these kinds of things alone, though now he found himself being tagged along with by his roommate. The town itself had begun to grow dark, people hiding away in their homes and likely for a good reason. Whatever would rip apart a dog like that was something that he did not think any normal human would ever want to deal with. Luckily, he had managed to make his roommate bring him along in his odd van, though the large M painted on the side was something that made them stand out. A few people stared through their boarded windows, cautious of the strange vehicle.

”Remember Ashley, we’re dealing with something supernatural, so….just be careful.” He wasn’t actually sure what to so about the situation, when everything spoke for itself. His mind was running over what would tear apart a dog like that, though the only thing that came to mind was perhaps a Wendigo or werewolf. The latter was more likely, though he held off on assumptions until he could learn more about things. Eventually the GPS he installed gave them the signal that they were at the place, Samael closing the laptop and turning to the home they parked outside. A part of him expected any manner of skepticism from any family that lived there, but that was something that happened often when it came to dealing with such things.

He slid his computer into the glovebox, proving small enough to fit as he opened the door. Cool night air hit him, as Samael adjusted his sunglasses. They were specially made to not give someone any glimpse into the eyes beyond them and that was what he liked. He had dressed up in the usual of a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt the raven necklace hidden in his shirt, and faded jeans tucked into scuffed black boots. Luckily this style of clothing let him hide daggers, plenty to cover at the very least one weakness that supernatural creatures could hold, anything that could give him a jump on them. With a motion of his right hand, Samael non verbally told Ashley to follow him as he walked up to the front door and rapped on it with his knuckles.

He moved a few strands of copper hair from his forehead, waiting for someone to answer the door.

Ashley loved the open road. Sun on his face, gorgeous landscapes all around him, assholes cutting him off in the slow lane. There was truly nothing like it. There was also nothing quite like listening to crummy pop music while your roommate typed sassy on his computer for the majority of the ride. Dressed in his trench coat, t-shirt, and tie. He certainly thought he seemed prepared to fight monsters. He had even packed the Martyrmobile with monster hunting gear. Torches, pitchforks, Cotton candy maker, silver bullets, Italian food, and a hatchet. Samael did try to tell him that basically 80% of it might be useless, but Ashley couldn't simply not bring the fire axe.

Samael told Ashley to be careful about the supernatural. ”Don’t worry, Sammy. I'm immortal, remember? I'll always pay the rent.” He hoped that this would be like the movies. You know the ones, the ones where they arrive in a stupidly painted van, they eat comically large sandwiches, then they find the monster and get scared off the property and come back to setup traps using the high guy and his talking dog as bait then they take off the mask and reveal it was a local banker. Then the dog says something stupid and they go to end credits. Those were the best.

They arrived at the little inn shortly after this strange series of thoughts, Ashley put on his mask and hat; feeling the goggles to be an unnecessary component. Samael wordlessly told him to follow him. Ashley raised a finger to signal it would just take one second. Ashley strapped the fire axe to his back and put his knife in the holster on his hip, as well as strapping the twin revolvers to his chest. Ashley stepped out of the van and put his keys in his pocket. ”Like, zoinks Sammy! I think I smell a mystery.” Martyr said doing a terrible impression of Shaggy.

He quickly readjusted his hat and ensured he looked presentable while he stood behind his roommate.

Ben lay awake in the small bed given to him at the small inn owned by his cousin Amber. About a week earlier she had called him scared out of her mind. Some black beast it seemed had attacked her dog, killed it in fact. His first suggestion had been that it was a black bear, but judging by the panic in her voice and the serious tongue lashing he got after suggesting that he figured there might just be some merit to her story. And so here he was a good distance from home, in an old inn keeping his cousin company until she felt safe on her own again. How long that would take he had absolutely no idea but he hoped it would be soon. After all, not only did he have a practice to run back home, he also had matters that needed attending to regarding The Veil. Vigilantism as much or even more so than dentistry was a full time job, one he was currently getting nothing done in regards to.

Well that wasn't entirely true. Seeing as the "monster" as his cousin liked to call it had taken the lives of more than one person in the town, Ben figured it was worth his time as The Veil to look into. But what he found was dead end after dead end. So little information existed on the thing that he was grasping at straws. What he did know was this; whatever this thing was it was big eye witness reports had put it at seven to ten feet tall. Second, it was pitch black, sometimes having been reported to almost shimmer if light hit it. Third, the thing was aggressive, seeming to attack anything living that crossed its path during the night. And finally, the thing was totally gone once the daylight came. That was the part that most disturbed him. More than once in the past week he'd gone out and searched the surrounding woods but never came back with anything concrete. There were large clawed tracks that lead into the woods sure but they generally ended at the treeline and when they didn't they led nowhere. Worse yet, there wasn't any sort of den or nest that would have been able to shelter such a large creature. Honestly Ben was at a loss. This thing had to be a metahuman or mutated animal of some kind, but what exactly it was he had absolutely no idea.

Which was why he was awake now, phone in hand, texting one of the few resources he had for things like this. Drifter perhaps would know what this thing was, or even if not might have some insight that Ben had overlooked and so he sent him what information he had, hoping that he'd get a response in the next day or two. Setting the phone down on the nightstand next to his bed, he folded his hands over his bare chest and prepared to drift off to sleep for the night. But almost as soon as he closed his eyes, his phone began to buzz wildly. No way he thought, shooting up in bed and looking at the phone. Quickly he picked up, Drifter's voice coming through from the other end. "I'll be at the inn in an hour. I'm bringing guns, my gear, snacks, and my shoebox full of Catholic shit."

Wait Drifter n-- he tried to get out before the phone clicked on the other end. Ooooooh that is so not good he said aloud staring shocked at the phone. Drifter lived in LA to the best of his knowledge. Why in the Hell was he an hour from where he was?? That didn't matter now, he'd have to figure out some excuse to get away from Amber's place and get into his Veil suit that he'd stashed away just in case.

Quickly he hopped out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans over his boxers and pulling a shirt with Rise Against logo in the center and the gym bag containing his vigilante gear from a pile of clothes in the corner of the room. Hey Amber he yelled through down the hall to the room next to his. I just got a call from work, they need me to take a look at some X-Rays. A rustling could be heard from the next room as Amber stomped out of bed to confront her cousin.

Seriously? It's like ten at night, that can't wait until tomorrow? Clearly she was annoyed, her fear of being left alone in the inn coming through as anger at Ben.

It's an emergency he stated as he threw on a button up shirt and sloppily tied a tie around his neck. Some kid got hit in the face with a baseball playing catch in the dark with his brother's. There's a good chance he could need surgery tonight. Obviously this was a lie and Ben hated how fluidly it flowed from him. There wasn't a hesitation in his words or a faltering in his idea. This was part of why he so distanced himself from his family. He hated lying to them but with the kinds of things he did, lying was inevitable. And though he could tell that Amber bought the lie, it was also clear that she was seriously pissed off at him for leaving.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Ben's eyes went wide as Amber darted her bedroom, quickly coming back out with a loaded 12 gauge. Amber what the hell are you doing? he questioned, somewhat terrified at how quick she had gone to violence at little to no provocation. So trying to calm down the situation he quickly ran over to the door. Opening it, he was greeted by a man in extremely dark sunglasses and another in a fedora and gas mask. Maybe its a good thing she got out the gun Ben thought as he tensed his wrists, feeling the wristbands containing his laser weaponry attached to them.

Um, can I help you? he asked flatly, very wary of these two. After all, they looked somewhat like supervillains from a Saturday morning cartoon. One of them even had an axe strapped to their back! On top of that they were here at night, during a rather gruesome week in the normally quiet town. Needless to say, Ben wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

1 Hour Later

_________________________

Drifter stuffed a twinkie in his mouth as he turned the wheel of his car, tossing the wrapper out the window. Yes there were littering fines in the state of New York, but that didn't mean there were any cops around to enforce them. He was pulling down Brant Street, a cute little New England strip of houses. It was all very simple, like nothing bad could ever happen there.

Pfft, who am i kidding? Those types of little towns or suburbs always ended up being the ones where shit goes down.

The bags under Drifter's eyes made it evident that he was tired. Insomnia does that to you. He hadn't slept in maybe um, two or three days? If this little trip was anything, it was an excuse to stay up.

"Your destination is on the right." Said Drifter's phone as he approached the inn. What he found was a van in front of it, one with a giant M on the side. Apparently Veil had invited more then just him. That or they had a serious issue. Drifter just hoped there wasn't some vigilante named Mysterio in there.

"Very professional." Drifter said with a smile. He had most of his gear on, he just needed the helmet and cloak from his trunk.

He got out of his ghosted sports car, meaning it was a vehicle nobody knew he had, and went to the trunk. He proceeded to get the rest of his costume, along with an extended clip AK47.

He strolled up to the building, looking over his shoulder and scanning the area. He really hoped shit wasn't going down just yet.

He moved to the door, assault rifle in hand, and heard voices he didn't recognise from behind the it. He also recognized Veil's, but his fellow vigilante didn't mention any other company in his email. Was he being held against his will? Only one way to find out.

Drifter stepped back a few feet, then got a running start at the door. At the end of his sprint, he reeled back, putting all his momentum into a kick. The door would more then likely fail under such a strike, at which point Drifter would come in, gun raised.

"Alright fuck sticks, tell me where Veil is or you're all getting pumped full of.......oookay then, the hell is this?" Drifter said, only realizing all this situation was was a conversation halfway through his sentence. Yeah, he just broke into an inn and threatened it's owner with an AK. Plus, there were a few other dudes he didn't recognize.

He had been expecting a female client form the call, yet what he was met with was a male. Likely someone that lived with her, or maybe even a worried family member that had come to comfort her after the dead dog incident. Nothing about them seemed off from a glance, but he couldn’t help being on guard regardless. Sure, he had no control over what Ashley dressed himself as and that likely did not help. He shot a sidewise glare at Ashley, his eyebrow scrunching being the only indication of his annoyance as he would then answer the question that came at him. ”I’m Sam, from the Christensen Investigative services. Was called here by an Amber Freist about a problem.” He responded with an equally flat tone. A problem that was likely something only he could deal with.

He hoped this didn’t end up with a family member trying to kick him out because they thought he was some manner of hack or something along those lines. It wouldn’t have been the first, and he didn’t need to have to face potential assault charges again. Things however went well, with skepticism present despite that. It took a few minutes, but he was able to be allowed entrance into the home and from there they were lead to what looked to be some manner of sitting room. A shotgun being out did make him even warier, but soon enough that proved itself not to be a problem. Tension was palpable in the air, to a degree that Samael swore he could even taste it.

Keeping a business persona was possible, as he explained what he believed the situation as considering what they were dealing with, though he also stated that he would likely also need to investigate the locations of the attacks. Talk about prices were mentioned, though he did state that he would not request any compensation until the thing that had been causing the attacks was rooted out. If nothing else Samael was not one to make a person pay without actual results being presented. Thing seemed to be going well until he caught the sounds of wood buckling, and what distinctly was a door being slammed inward. He quickly reached for one of the daggers hidden in his jacket, stopping form throwing it before realizing that he had said something.

”Okay…who the hell are you and who the fuck is a Veil?”

Ashley stood behind Samael as he talked to the man who had answered the door. He didn't feel like it would be his place to speak up in this situation, and he certainly didn't want to get Samael in trouble with his client. He waved brightly at the man and when Samael walked inside, Ashley was quick to follow. He hoped that his whole thing with being equipped head to toe in weaponry. He ensured that his ax was still strapped to his back, and was quick to look for the kitchen.

He didn't like being in the way of Samael's business, and he realized that this was very similar to how his favorite series of horror movies went. They arrived, they start asking the person some questions, and soon someone would die. Maybe. Probably not. PG ratings and all. Once he couldn't find the kitchen, however, he was quick to run back into the room.

"Sammy, I'm going to go get something to eat. Did you guys want anything?" Suddenly, a man broke down the door and pointed an AK-47 at them. Ashley was too stunned to even grab his ax before he burst into the room and started asking questions about this Veil person.

”Okay…who the hell are you and who the fuck is a Veil?” Samael asked, so Martyr whipped out his phone to look it up. "A veil is a piece of fine material worn by women to protect or conceal the face. But I think he might be referring to a person." He said to Samael out of the corner of his mouth.

"No idea who you're talking about, but I don't think the Inn has any vacancies right now."

Christensen Investigative services Ben ran the name through his head a few times, trying to see if he knew it from anywhere. The name didn't ring a bell and the van outside with a crudely spray painted on "M" didn't help their credibility. Amber! he yelled into the Inn, turning his head just slightly enough so that his eyes never lost contact with the men in the doorway. Did you call an investigative service about your dog? Immediately the sound of scurrying feet could be heard from inside. Amber forcefully pushed Ben out of the way, greeting the men at the door.

I'm so glad you're here she said ecstatically, quickly shuffling the shotgun behind her back before flinging open the door and showing them inside.

You hired a private investigative service? Ben shot back at her as he rubbed his back. The spot in his back where he'd been shot had been aggravated by her shove.

Yea sure, we'll go with that she said defiantly as she lead the two men over to a sitting area and took a seat with them. Confused and in pain, Ben reluctantly followed her but never sat. He was too uncomfortable with the situation, especially the axe wielding man looking to raid the kitchen.

After a few minutes, the "expertise" of this group became clear. Every so often Ben would interject with some snide comment about them being ghost hunters or con artists. These comments did little to deter Amber though, convinced as she was that what had attacked her was most definitely not explained by conventional wisdom.

Then as if to break the tension of the nearly hour long conversation, who else but Drifter came crashing through the Inn's front door. Instantly Amber shot up from her seat, shotgun aimed straight at Drifter's gut. Shit was all Ben could think as he put himself between Amber and his friend. Don't shoot nobody shoot! he shouted throwing his arms up to try and calm everyone now on high alert. He's with me! With that Ben would slowly walk over towards Drifter, thinking on just what exactly he was going to use as an excuse as he made his way. Fuck, this was exactly the situation he didn't want. Drifter could be a loose canon and Ben was not comfortable revealing his identity to him just yet but there didn't seem to be a lot of other options.

Finally getting to Drifter, Ben would face him and cover his mouth as though he were trying to grasp at the situation, giving him the same view of his face that Drifter would have seen behind the medical mask he had worn in their last encounter. Raising his eyebrows in a sort of "it's me" gesture he would give a quick nod back to the room before turning around. Everyone, this is... he didn't want to use Drifter's name, not even his alias. That could give everyone in the room a place to trace back to, link with the name The Veil as both being vigilantes and spill the beans that he was who he was. uh...Vagrant. He's a hired muscle, figured we could use a little protection. Emphasizing the word little he'd eye the AK in Drifter's hands as if to say "drop the fucking thing".

Still holding the shotgun now pointed in the direction of both Ben and Drifter Amber spoke up. You hired what a bodyguard and you're giving me shit for hiring a paranormal investigator? Seriously?! Don't you think that's a little bit overkill? The man calling himself Sam then spoke up asking what exactly a Veil was before being answered by his axe wielding companion.

Uh Ben began, scrambling to find an excuse. This was so much easier when it had just been himself that he had to worry about blowing his cover. The Veil is...code...for the person Vagrant is hired to protect. Yea that makes a whole lot of sense, nice one Ben. You'll have federal agents knocking down your door for violating international treaties with your wrist lasers in no time...

Drifter was met with a room full of what could only be described as a bunch of misfits. Of course, the one guy looked well put together, but the rest of them....... No. One was an axe wielding Sherlock Holmes reject with some kind of mask on, another was a ginger that thought it was cool to wear sunglasses at night, and the female one had a 12 gauge pointed at him.

Granted, he had a fully automatic assault weapon ready to riddle the place with bullets, but that was beside the point.

Just when it seemed like everyone was about to die in a hail of bullets, somebody stepped in.  The individual stammered, apparently trying to quickly come up with a believable story. Drifter had done that enough himself to recognise it. However, it only occurred to Luke this man was The Veil when he got a good enough look at him. It would have been nice if Veil had revealed his face before this, especially considering the cat was out of the bag around ten seconds into mission two. But, it did all work out in the end, right? Right.

Drifter nearly choked at the name Veil came up with on the spot. He couldn't deny it was a good idea to not use the name Drifter, but really? That's the best you could do? Lukas lowered his AK, bringing one hand up to face palm against his mask.

Vagrant? Fucking serious? You realize they will be calling me that until this situation is resolved? Dick. Drifter thought to himself. As ridiculous as that name was, he wasn't going to blow everything just because it was lame. He rolled with Veil's horrible social improvisation skills.

".........that's......that's right. I work for a private military contractor, so it's all legal. I can't say the same about Shades and his axe murderer buddy, though." Lukas said through his voice filter, thinking as quickly as he could. One thing Drifter was good at was coming up with bullshit on the fly, and then presenting it as five star cuisine.

"As much as i would love to protect you two for the foreseeable future, especially you honey, i am paid at a flat rate. That means the sooner we eliminate the threat, the sooner i can get out of this Stephen King suburb." Drifter said, gesturing to Amber when he said 'honey', if only to piss her off. Hitting on feisty women was probably the best way to handle them, in his book anyway.

Samael frowned at Ashley, half expecting the description of what a veil was, but still finding some annoyance with it. The older blonde said something about this armed thug barging being with him, though Samael was still tempted to throw this Vagrant out. ”Hired some muscle?” His voice held the tone of someone skeptical of the concept. Having some thug insult him, well that was not exactly something that he enjoyed . ”When we’re dealing with a few nuts with guns, you might be useful then.” He responded with a shrug, seemingly disinterested in whatever the hired muscle would even say. What did seem to catch his interest was a mention of money, and this thug being paid.

In the end however he didn’t say anything beyond that about money, intending to bring that up at a later point when he could have a moment with his client alone. ”Anyway, if you want to keep your goon around Mister…whatever. I’d suggest you have him stand back and not get in my way. I really hate it when people think they can bring in guns and just shoot these kinds of problems away. Don’t feel like explaining to the cops why some jack ass ended up being turned into ground chuck again.” He turned the sharp gaze at Drifter for a moment, not smirking, but just glaring at him. Pointless deaths was something he had been hired to avoid, so he felt as if this man’s presence was just counterproductive to that end.

”Anyway, if that’s all my partner and I have a few things to investigate.”

Ashley shrugged the axe back on his shoulders as he heard the men talk about the gun wielding maniac. He knew that this was all very serious work; but his stomach growling seemed to overtake any other need.

As the mood seemed to be dying down; Ashley snuck out of the room and out the back door. He thought he had seen a cafè as they had driven through town. He honestly hadn't considered that people might be a bit put off by a man dressed all in black and carrying an axe.

He stepped into the cafè and smelled that he was in fact in the right place. He quickly sat down at the nearest booth and looked at the menu; awaiting someone to come and take his order.

Soon, the terrified looking waitress came and asked for his order. He smiled widely, although that was probably hidden beneath the mask. ”Well, besides you…” He said playfully, though she blanched instead of looking less horrified by his appearance. ”I will have the… Flapjacks with bacon and sausage, scramble the eggs and cover them with cheese; burn the white toast slightly, and smother them with butter.” He said handing her the menu, the waitress took down the order; and hurriedly scurried back to the kitchen where most of the staff seemed to be huddled. What a rude group of people.

Alright yea I think that worked Ben confirmed with himself as he looked tensely about the room. Drifter it seemed wasn't too keen on the name he'd given him but in a pinch it was all he had. Vagrants close to Drifter anyway he thought, a little unhappy with the snark his fellow vigilante was casting into the room. Yea, that was definitely the way to de-escalate a situation, insult people. Not that his suspicions weren't up about this paranormal investigator as well, he just wasn't openly calling them out.

As Drifter threw the "honey" comment in Amber's direction she tightened her grip on the shotgun, focusing her aim on Drifter. I can protect myself just fine thanks. Her eyes shot daggers at Ben as she said this. You think I'm so weak and defenseless that you hire some goon to watch over me? Or was this your way of just sneaking off and passing the responsibility off to someone else? Her face was red, furious, her lips pulled back in a violent expression.

And you! she started in, head on a swivel towards Samael. I don't know who you think you are, but you're not just gonna waltz in here and be a passive aggressive dick to my cousin, even if he is being a monstrous ass at the moment. She wavered for a moment, the shotgun in her hand shaking violently as she tried to calm her rage. Her face losing tension then, she lowered the gun and the normal color slowly came back to her face. If you've got some investigating to do, I suggest you go do it...now. Clearly Amber was having none of this circus act at the moment. All of you she added, lifting her hand firmly towards the door once more shooting a look at Ben.

Upset and not wanting to further exasperate the situation, Ben ushered Drifter to door, waiting behind for everyone to leave. Looking back to amber he began to apologize before quickly getting cut off. Go was all she said before heading into the manager's office to get some screws and new hinges to fix the door. Without another word Ben exited with his head hung low, following in step with wherever the group would be going.

Meanwhile outside of the diner where Martyr had gone for a bite to eat, something was stirring. Something shook the bushes on the treeline behind the small establishment. A black figure, cloaked in the shroud of darkness emerged. It's shoulder blades waved like a jungle cat as it silently stalked up to the back entrance to the diner. With its large snout, it pushed open the lid to the dumpster out back, slamming the lid against the building. The metallic thump could be heard from inside. The kitchen staff jumped at the sound, all turning white like ghosts as they stared at the back wall. The faint sounds of something rummaging around at the back of the restaurant reached their ears and all of them stood motionless. Then a scraping sound came from the back entrance like something heavy was being dragged around. One of the head cooks worked up the courage and slowly approached the back service entrance from the kitchen to see what exactly was going on outside. As he pulled open the door his heart sank.

The dumpster which had been planted up against the exterior wall of the diner was now about twenty feet back towards the treeline. Scrape marks in the concrete clearly indicated the rushed path that the heavy dumpster had taken before being flung onto its side. Even more alarming were the thick gashes in the exterior of the dumpster, its contents spilling out through the large claw marks. His head on a swivel, the man looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of what exactly had done this. His only indication was a faint rustling from the treeline before once again, all was silent.

"You gonna shoot me, Doll? Make my day." Drifter shot back at the woman in response to the gun being point at him. He knew his armor wouldn't quite take the full impact of a 12 gauge at point blank range, but he also knew he wouldn't be killed by it. Not to mention the fact this woman wasn't going to shoot him. She had some bark, but no bite.

She had her little tantrum, then let it slip that this person who was apparantly The Veil was her cousin. Drifter could figure out his name now in a few Google searches. It wasn't like he would use it for anything, but the guy knew Luke's identity, it was only fair for that to be true both ways.

After all the banter, they were all but pushed out the door. Apparently they were off to investigate all this stuff now. Once out the door, Lukas grabbed the ginger's attention.

"For the record, I'm fully aware shooting this thing probably won't have much effect, with normal bullets anyway. Regardless, I'm more prepared then you think." Lukas said, showing off a grenade labeled 'Silver Nitrate' which he had prepared with his kit before coming. That was only the tip of the ice burg two. He had all manner of classic supernatural fighting weapons. Salt, holy water, holy symbols etched on all his bullets, blessed charms, and plenty of other custom grenades. Basically, he wasn't screwing around.

"So, um, what leads do we have on this thing? Meaning, where do we start?" Drifter said to The Veil. He didn't know his actual name, and since he couldn't call him Veil, it was a bit of an issue. He was after all supposed to be a hired gun.

So apparently, someone was sticking their shotgun in someone’s face, though luckily it was not his own this time around. Having Ashley just walk off was something that made things annoying, but he had no control over the incompetent immortal. As everyone was thrown out, this Vagrant person was mentioning how he had more than normal bullets but even holy or silver ammunition was something that might not do much. The presence of silver was something that made him subconsciously shrink away from them, nothing notable but he did have to keep that in mind. This person was someone that he would not want to unwarrantedly piss off.

”Let’s just hope those things work.” He said with a roll of the eyes, though that was less than obvious. The thug asked what they would do next, though that didn’t matter to him in the end. Something told him he needed to look after his partner, if only so Ashley didn’t get himself mangled by something. Following his scent was something that proved to be easy enough with these now enhanced senses. People had their own personal scents as he came to realize, though someone he lived with was easier to follow.

The faint scent of the metahuman caught his nose, and so Samael followed that much like a bloodhound. Luckily, he did manage to avoid looking like he was actively doing so. Otherwise he would have to hear more of the annoying quips that both of them did. The location the scent drew him towards was some manner of diner, something that would likely not be a good place to frequent when a monster prowled the streets. I swear he just likes to piss me off. Samael thought to himself, frowning as he followed the scent.

Walking off from the other two, the scent intertwined with something that reeked of blood. A coppery scent that permeated his mouth, and made him wince for a moment, now following that unholy scent. It lead him to what looked to be a large metal dumpster, dragged from where they were normally settled with massive gouges taken from it. Now this was something he hadn’t seen since that time in New York City with the werewolves. Nothing could be ascertained from a assertion of the scent, aside from the fact it reeked of blood.

The contents had been ripped out like metaphorical guts and spilled out, likely searched for some manner of food. ”Can’t be a vampire, but it has to be something that has to do with blood.” Perhaps a spirit of blood or a construct of it. Not like he hadn’t seen something like that before.