Stealing millions of lives, innocent or guilty, War is a trickster in disguise; plunging the very souls it corrupts into the vast, brilliant utopia called heaven, or casting them down to very pits of hell, War can never be defeated. It relies on the divine creation, man, to provide willing puppets for its theatrical performance, death. With many eager and keen volunteers, War simply sits back and enjoys the greatest show ever built, pulling strings every so often to turn tides for its favor. Man is the shining star and in the spotlight, man continuously executes the precious life of his brother, never wavering far from War's desires.
Jagger welcomes War and strives to become its master. The fresh scent of blood, dirt, and smoke fill his nostrils, causing small bursts of shivers down his arms and legs. Oh yes, War is here, and here to stay. Standing on a ledge of a damaged apartment building, he surveyed the area below. Fire littered the ground and rooftops of buildings below, leaving behind rubble and ruins. This is his playground and only his rules applied.
His excitement spiked when a loud bang sounded in the distance; grenades, just his kind of play toys. Nothing sugar coated his job and hobby more than the actual action itself. Adjusting his one of a kind ski mask, Jagger took a deep breath, letting the war-tainted air fill his lungs to the brim.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs behind him, "Jag, we've got a problem in a market downtown."
Jagger didn't move to face his ally; rather, he continued to scan the wreckage below. His eyes darting side-to-side over the debris and fire coated ruins, searching for any sign of life, any hope he could exterminate. This was his life, his job, to destroy and slaughter the humans and beasts against his kind. Market issues were not his department, and for that, he was thankful.
His interests fell as swiftly as they came. Markets… they were a paradise for fleeing species, a sanctuary for those who carry a target on their back, and a place of peace. It is forbidden to start any type of quarrel inside the grounds, a law punishable by death. Only two out of four markets remain under the strict "no fight" regulation, the eastern and western, but the other two, northern and southern, remain liberated. Not many species other than vampire dare walk the streets of them.
The eastern market generally catteries to the beasts, or werewolf generations, as the western attract humans. Funding for each area comes from wealthy families, in hopes of providing shelter, a place of protection, and a location to contest again war with serenity. Each sanctuary housed plenty of guards to uphold the "no fight" decree flawlessly. Controlled and paid handsomely by the wealthy patrons, rules were never broken. No hunting, period.
After several minutes of seeing nothing in the rubble below, Jagger turned his head just enough to put the soldier in his line of sight, "What kind of problem is it?" He finally answered dully, still remaining disinterested.
Why were they bothering him about the markets? Not like he could kill anything in the area anyway. His playground is here, the cities, suburbs, and countryside. Why pester him about something he could gain no control over?
"It deals with beast activity, sir."
A one-eighty degree turn of events caught Jagger's attention; werewolves were his favorite. Each beast's strength varied from one to another, but they were closer to vampire power than humans could ever dream to accomplish.
His eyes glinted in the moonlight as he shifted position, turning about-face toward the soldier. "What kind of wolf activity are we talking about?" He asked curiously.
"Negative beast activity against the vampire, sir."
Jagger's lips twisted up into a wicked smile. "You don't say, soldier, you don't say." His mood skyrocketing as the words left his mouth. "And tell me, soldier, what happens to any species found guilty for disrupting sanctuaries top priority rule?"
"Death, sir."
A small laugh bubbled inside his throat, threatening to burst free at any moment. Shivers danced up his spine and his heart beat quickened. "And what if a member of Alpha Force is present at the time of judgment?"
"Alpha Force can request an overruling on the verdict of death and bring the accused into Alpha Force jurisdiction."
Her senses pulsed vigorously; sound was heightened and amplified while her sight became accelerated. The holster belt hugging her hips felt lighter than air and her seven throwing knives were weightless. Duel katana's decorated her back, the sharp blades glistening in the light like ornaments on a Christmas tree.
She took a couple steps forward to shield the werewolf at her back. The form-fitting, black, leather loin guard adorning her pelvis held her dagger and throwing knives snuggly against her waist, begging to be used.
The vampire in front of her hissed viciously, "What are you doing? You're going against your own kind!"
"No, I'm defending an innocent." She replied, standing her ground.
"Do you know who I am, girl?" The vampire tossed off his coat one fluid motion, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes flashed red with anger and he began pacing.
Licking her lower lip, a grin slid into place, "Does it matter who you are? You're disturbing the peace in my sanctuary." She emphasized heavily on the word my, hoping he'd understand just how stupid he was acting before it became too late.
The vein in his right temple popped out, pulsing irritably. "I matter!" He wailed loudly, causing passing pedestrians to look over.
She could feel waves of anger flow from him like hot steam. Good. He was livid with rage, blinding his reason and scrambling his logic. It wouldn't be a challenging fight but she'd make an example out of his foolish behavior. Relaxing her muscles, she drew the dagger holstered at her right hip. The blade itself was flawless, the razor-sharp edge gleaming down the curve to the tip. On the opposite side, a jagged edge decorated half of the blades backside; it hands down, was her favorite element of the dagger. Running her finger across the steel, the air grew thick with emotion.
"If you matter, why is it I don't know your name, vampire?" She provoked, waiting for him to move just an inch toward her; it's all she needed for a motive.
His fangs elongated drastically, signally his approaching attack. "You fool; I am the son of none other than Justin and Serene, Omega House, everyone knows this."
Blinking rapidly, she erupted with laughter and it lifted to fill the marketplace, silencing all competing noise. "Pardon my lack of respect," she chuckled, "I wasn't aware I had a brother."
In an instant, the man's body grew rigid with fear; a time widow of opportunity opening, she lunged forward, dagger in hand, and nicked a long, clean cut across the vampire's entire chest, end-to-end. Standing behind the man, her back barely touching his, she could smell the blood and sweat mixing together as they dripped down his chest onto the stone floor.
"First blood," She whispered sinfully.
Loud footsteps sounded from the left and right. Turning her head to the side, market guards emerged from the crowd, fully decked out in thick armor and a vast variety of weapons ranging from pistols to daggers. The tallest stepped forward, separating himself from the rest, with a dagger in hand and a helmet visor shielding his eyes from sight.
"By decree of patron owner Omega house, you have violated your peaceful visitation rights, and hereby sentenced to death."
"Praxis, I've handled it." She pointed out, sheathing her dagger into its leg holster.
Commander Praxis bowed his head respectfully, pushing the helmet visor up to reveal his eyes. "Death is the law. Until his blood paints the streets, judgment is not carried out properly." Looking down at the vampire kneeling a few feet away from him, his gaze swept back toward the woman. "Forgive my insolence, S-"
"Commander, I don't like to repeat myself. I said I've handled it." Her eyes flashed with warning; her authority would not be compromised so easily. Taking a step back from the scene, she took a much needed deep breath. "Let him-"
"Pardon my interruption and rude intrusion, but you haven't handled it according to protocol." Jagger commented, stepping past the swarm of civilians to publically present his arrival. Pulling off his mask, he planted a boot on top of the injured vampire's foot, trapping the poor creature completely. Alpha soldiers pushed past the multitude of people mobbing the area to support their leader.
Her eyes narrowed with annoyance. He carried so much pride and arrogance, bigger than anyone she's ever encountered before. Why were men so egotistical? Shaking her head with disapproval, she stared at the newcomer. "Dare I ask your name, narcissistic brute?" Shifting her stance, she stood straight and took in his vast appearance.
Standing over six-feet tall, his obsidian colored eyes gleamed in the light, meeting her gaze willfully, unafraid of the consequences to come. His confidence somewhat astounded her, could he be a worthy rival? Short, spiky, black hair matched the daunting, piercing eyes watching her every move. The broad shoulders and lean muscles created great intimidation; anyone with a brain should step out of his way, she wouldn't. No amount of apprehension or fear would make her stand down. There was only one characteristic which stood out entirely: his facial tattoos; they were one of kind; black tribal swirls framed his sinister eyes and continued onto his forehead to generate an extremely dangerous demeanor. Only a gutsy soldier would ink his skin so irrationally.
Bowing his head slightly, he placed one hand over his heart, "its Jagger."
She flashed a small smile, "well Jagger, those are mighty fine tattoos you've got there, but aren't tramp stamps suppose to be on the lower back?" She could not pass up the opportunity to test his control. If easily offended by a simple insult, he wouldn't stand a chance against her.
Silence skimmed the entire accumulated crowd, all eyes on the brave woman standing alone. Jagger couldn't hold back the laughter. Running a hand over his face in an attempt to compose himself, he relaxed and smiled, "sticks and stones, love, sticks and stones." Amusement twinkled in his dark eyes, what a brave one she was.
Studying her carefully, Jagger noted the weaponry holstered to her body. The daggers and throwing knives didn't bother him in the slightest; the only immediate danger would be the duel katana's secured to her back. No human, werewolf, or vampire carried a katana unless they knew how to properly use it, much less carry two. Was she a mercenary? She couldn't be; word of a duel katana mercenary would spread like wildfire, plus they would wear something entirely different then her outfit.
The woman sported a form-fitting, black, underbust corset over a matching lacy, short sleeved, low-cut shirt; a silver chain around her neck dipped down into her cleavage, concealing whatever was attached to it. A black, leather loin guard covered its respected area, leaving an a couple inches of her midriff and thighs showing. She wore a loose belt around her waist to carry more throwing knives and her suede black boots stopped just above her kneecaps, leaving enough space for her leg holsters to house a dagger and other small weapons. Her long black hair remained braided, dangling over her left shoulder.
Nope, she was definitely not a mercenary.
The crowd started shouting warnings, aimed at her, trying to advise her to be cautious and back down. Jagger's grin widened, the people knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of doing; she, on the other hand, had no idea. Meeting her gaze, he stared into her warm, golden brown eyes; it was a shame he didn't have time for women, she truly was beautiful, and her bravery surprised him, but his passion for death and war required all his free time.
Commander Praxis took a couple steps toward the woman, in an attempt to defend her, but she held up a hand, ordering him to stop. Shifting her eyes over to glance at him, she smiled again, "I can handle it."
Jagger was once again surprised, lifting an eyebrow in her direction, he blinked "and what can you handle?"
"You," she replied calmly, her confidence souring high. He wouldn't beat her; she wouldn't allow it to happen. She knew who he was and how dangerous the situation could become within an instant. His reputation was well known throughout the country; he wasn't one to trifle with. Watching his every movement and reaction, anticipation loomed strongly in the night air, and all eyes were glued to her.
Was it a mistake to indirectly challenge him? Only time would tell.
Jagger remained in awe. Who was this woman? Her poise and spirited nature intrigued him. There were only a handful of creatures whom could openly defeat him without breaking a sweat, three being house or clan leaders, but this woman, wasn't one of them. Not only was she unmistakably beautiful, but she had a fearless attractive personality. She was… extremely fascinating and to be able to stand up against him, it was bravery he'd never seen before.
The commander cleared his throat, breaking the rising tension. "Is the werewolf and vampire worth it?"
She turned her head to look over her shoulder, glimpsing at the werewolf she originally defended. "I will protect anyone, no matter the race, if they are innocent."
He blinked, she was protecting a werewolf? He couldn't believe it… an actual vampire defending an enemy… incredible. Jagger was awestruck; his eyes examined her figure and met her gaze once again. He needed to get her alone, figure out her name and the house she belonged to, and figure out exactly who she was.
"Jag, stop wasting time, let me handle her; you take the vampire." One of his soldiers strode forward, a hand reaching for the gun at his side.
"No," Jagger barked loudly. "She's mine."
She lifted her chin, "The foolish vampire is mine. I-"
"You already claimed first blood; your quarrel is over." Jagger interrupted. "Your chance for deciding his fate is done. By choosing to not claim his life in battle, you forfeited any authority to become judge, jury, and executioner. His verdict will be passed onto the Alpha House."
She growled fiercely, her fangs elongating. "Alpha has no jurisdiction here!"
Jagger looked over at the commander. "Praxis, you know the law cover-to-cover, proclaim it." He ordered.
"Don't drag Praxis into this!" She shouted, her anger level rising considerably. There was no way in hell she'd allow possession of the vampire to pass onto Alpha house; their only method of punishment was death. Second chances were unheard of inside their clan. The leader's philosophy consisted of a single sentence: one whom does not follow the law, cannot be judged by it.
Commander Praxis' heart sunk; Jagger was correct and he was hoping the vampire wouldn't mention it. Letting his hand fall away from his sword, he straightened his posture. "Once a house pardon's an offender, the other house can claim action." He whispered softly, his eyes swimming with sadness.
Jagger nodded and motioned with a head for his soldier to take care of the vampire. Turning his back to the woman, the decision final, the sound of metal sliding slowly against leather caught his attention. His soldiers footsteps ceased and he looked over his shoulder. With both katana's in hand, the woman's eyes burned with hatred and her fangs were bared.
Her eyes narrowed, "take another step and you lose an arm, solider."
Twisting around, Jagger faced the woman. "Bravery in a woman is appealing, stupidity is not." He stated, a definite threat in his tone. "Don't raise a blade unless you're willing to follow through with the actions."
"I always follow through." She took a defensive stance; both katana's raised, ready to be stained red.
"Very well," Jagger nodded, accepting the challenge, he took a step forward, preparing to fight.
A small, sympathetic smile stretched across her lips, allowing her white fangs to glint in the light, "Don't go easy on me; I won't offer you the same courtesy."
In the blink of an eye, she sprang forward, slicing Jagger's cheek with a taunting cut. As his dagger came across for a counter, she dodged to the right all the while swinging her blades with incredible speed. He could barely manage to avoid the swords; she was exceptionally fast and accurate, one wrong move and his arm would be cut clean off. The katana whizzed past his ear, nearly severing it from his head; she knew exactly how to use her blades. The only thing he could do was deflect her attacks with his weapon; there wasn't a window of opportunity for him to strike. Deflecting another blow, aiming for his chest, Jagger grabbed his other dagger, hoping to counter successfully and push her to defense.
Instead, she swung the second katana at his legs, attempting to throw him off balance by forcing him to jump. As he leaped over the sword, she guided the first blade toward his neck. Jagger leaned backwards, the katana nearly slitting his throat by mere centimeters. He only had seconds to react to her attacks before she made another attempt to kill him. She put him on edge with her clever attacks. He didn't have any doubts about her skills.
Performing a back-flip, Jagger put a few feet between them to catch his breath and study her.
Smirking, she took the advantage to grab two throwing knives and throw them at Jagger, using the first as a decoy. He dodged the first effortlessly but didn't see the second till it was too late. A thud echoed within the market, the second knife embedded into his left arm. Blood pooled at the wound but he didn't bother removing the metal, instead, he stared at her.
Glancing at the knife, he frowned. "That wasn't very nice."
"Enough talking," She barked, rushing forward again, she aimed both katana's for his heart; she leapt into the air going for the aerial execution.
Finally it was Jagger's turn to smirk. Adjusting his stance, he waited for the exact moment to grasp the twin blades with his bare hands, stopping her in mid-air. The cold steel cut into his palms, but he didn't let the pain distract him. Her face mutated into a surprise expression; realizing his plan, she tried to pull away.
It was too late; Jagger had her right where he wanted. Ignoring the blood and pain dripping down his arms, Jagger forcefully kicked her in the stomach, causing her to drop the twin katana's and fall down backwards. Seizing the opportunity, he connected a fist directly into the side of her face, knocking her out cold.
Before colliding with the ground in slow motion, her eyes went wide, confusion and amazement written across her face.
She… lost.
Jagger stood up straight, clutching his bleeding arm tightly in hopes to help clot the wound. Taking a step closer to the woman sprawled out on the floor, he bent down to yank the silver necklace free from her cleavage.
A loud howl sounded in the distance.
"Jag! We've got werewolves approa-" The soldier's voice died with a gargle, a large werewolf at his throat tearing it apart.
More howls echoed throughout the market and Jagger looked down at the chain in his hand. He cursed and let it fall back onto the woman's chest.
The Omega House… the daughter of Justin and Serene lay before him, knocked out cold and defenseless during a large werewolf attack.
Let her die; save yourself.