These are stories about or involving my Uratha (Forsaken Werewolf) character Cassandra "Duskrunner" Davis. Some of the stories will be in the point of view of someone else, some will probably be in her point of view. Her bio page is linked in my profile.

Disclaimer: The World of Darkness is property of White Wolf Inc. and I'm just borrowing it for these stories without permission (I don't think they'd mind since I'm not making any money off this or anything but gotta keep the lawyers happy, and I'm all out of Liability-biscuits. Doh.)

Tales of the Duskrunner

Chapter 1: Death of the Family

Note: This story takes place in 1992 when Cassie is six years old. It is told in the perspective of the killer who murdered her family. And this is an appropriate warning on a family being murdered in cold blood.

Clyde Todesopfer casually walked down the street, taking a moment to glance over at one of the men he passed to get a good look at him. He paused a few moments later to retrieve a photograph from his coat pocket and glanced at it as he lit a cigarette, confirming it was indeed the man he had passed. He stood there for several minutes as he smoked, letting his gaze sweep slowly around as he made sure no bystanders were coming towards the office building his target had entered.

He flicked the cigarette down and squished it with his shoe before he turned to walk down an alleyway that led behind the building and entered a window he had carefully opened earlier, taking a moment to glance to make sure his emergency exit was still in place in the off-chance of things going badly. Everything looked perfect, so he crept into the building and moved towards the office his target was occupying. His contractor had made it very clear that he wanted the target exterminated in the office. He didn't know why, nor did he care. He wasn't paid to care.

Clyde silently peered into the office, seeing the man frowning down at some paperwork. Without a sound, he leveled his pistol with a silencer attached and shot the man twice through the back of the head and three more times into his back. He was nothing if not thorough. A touch of a frown graced his lips with he heard the soft sound of a sharp intake of breath and then the scuffling of footsteps. 'God damn it, now I have a witness to take care of.' He moved towards the sound of escape quickly, catching a profile of a man as he got into a car. He started to aim his gun but didn't have a good shot and he spotted a police car in the distance so he swore as he holstered his weapon. The assassin's eyes narrowed as he took note of the license plate number, picking up a pad of paper with gloved hands to scribble the number down.

Clyde growled under his breath, knowing he had to report the elimination of his target as soon as possible, so he made a call to one of his contacts so he could work on finding out the address of the witness before he went to on to meet his client.

It wasn't until the next morning that he got a call back with the address. With a hiss of frustration he checked to see if any witness had approached the police but as near as he could tell the man hadn't talked yet. But that was no guarantee that he never would, only a bullet in the brain would make that certain.

That night, Clyde made his way to the home of the witness to his crime and took some time to take a look in all the windows to get an idea of how many people might be home. He made it around to the back door and could hear conversation inside, the word 'police' immediately catching his attention. He got a little closer and could hear the man's wife telling his witness that he needed to go to the authorities. While the man seemed reluctant, his resolve was certainly being worn down.

The assassin got a good look at where both were and easily kicked the door in. Before the couple was even fully to their feet they both had bullets in their brains. But his job wasn't done there, he had to make sure there were no further witnesses. And there was no guarantee the man hadn't blabbed about what he saw to the rest of his family. He took a quick look around the lower level of the house and then headed up the stairs.

He was peering into an empty bedroom when he heard movement and saw a little girl rubbing her eyes and sniffling. "Daddy? What's all the… you're not my daddy!" The girl cried out, getting a good look at Clyde.

The professional killer leveled his gun, hesitating only a few moments before pulling the trigger, ending the toddler's life immediately. "Nothin' personal, kid." The cold-blooded murderer muttered before finishing his investigation. He nodded, satisfied he had taken out the whole family and left.

A few days he heard something that disturbed him on the news. They were talking about the family he had killed and the reporter mentioned a little girl that had survived the tragedy. 'Ain't no way the kid I shot is alive, so I must have missed one. Damn it, another fuckin' loose end!' Clyde thought to himself. He found out where the kid was being kept while they tried to find out if she had any living relatives. It was easy getting to her but there were a lot of people around. The little girl looked up at him for a moment and then looked away, no trace of recognition or fear in her eyes. 'Kid's either the greatest actress on the planet or she didn't see me. Too many witnesses here to take care of anyway. May as well let this one live.' He thought to himself.

Several weeks later Clyde was sitting in a bar having some beers when a big scary-looking man sat down on a stool next to him. The guy glanced over for a moment and made a soft sniffing sound before looking at the bartender and ordering a beer. Since he turned to look up at the football game playing on the TV, the assassin never gave him another moment's consideration. That is, until later on that night when he was walking to his hotel room and someone grabbed him and slammed him against the side of a building. Clyde squinted, wishing he hadn't had so many beers, and saw the man from the bar glaring at him. 'Aw shit, is this punk actually trying to mug me?' He thought to himself. "What the hell, man!?" He said aloud.

"I've been tracking you for weeks now, whelp. You killed someone important to me, so I'm here to return the favor." The man growled.

Clyde blinked. 'Goddamn, I could swear he just got a hell of a lot bigger.' He thought in astonishment. "The fuck you talking about? You one of Vito's boys?"

The scary-looking man lifted Clyde up by his neck, ignoring the flailing limbs as the man struggled against him. "You killed my mate, you piece of maggot infested shit. But you didn't kill my pup, so I'll do you the favor of a quick death. Say thank you." Without waiting for a reply, the large man crushed Clyde's windpipe and then snapped his neck. Without a backwards glance, the man walked off, a grim expression on his face.

More coming soon in the next chapter. (Yeah I know this one wasn't all that great but it let me fill in some background details. Heh