The odd gathering in the fire place lit and persian rug becarpeted study of Quatre Raberba Winner would have had the definite feeling of War Council if it weren't for the teacups. Heero stood sentinel-like by the door while the others met and drank tea while discussing the Nightsider attacks.
"Would you like some more tea Mister Hunter?" asked Quatre politely.
"Oh no thanks mate and just call me Hunter," said Hunter genially. "I'm still working on this cup. You know, I haven't had a cup of tea like this since me mum died."
"Oh, thank you," said Quatre, warmed by the compliment. "It's my own special blend."
"I really hate to interrupt your tea party here gentlemen," said Noin wryly. "But if we could concentrate on the matter at hand?"
"Of course miss Noin," said Quatre apologetically "I'm sorry."
"No need for apologies Quatre," Noin assured him.
"Hey Nightheart," called Hunter over to the shadowed part of the room where she seemed to be inspecting one of the tapestries on the walls. "Why don't you come and join the discussion?"
"I don't need to be here," she said curtly. "I should be out hunting the rest of the Nightsiders so I can end their threat and return to our original alternity. My responsibilities there still require my presence."
"Which brings up one of the points I wanted to mention," said Milliardo quietly. "While you're out there chasing down the rest of these guys, what happens to Relena? I mean if you aren't there to guard her and these people are as powerful as you've told us, we can't just drive her around in a tank… How are you doing the job we've hired you for?"
"I have prepared for this eventuality; the problem of trying to fulfill two assignments at the same time, and I have devised a solution. For those times that I cannot be present physically to guard the girl I will still be present in another way. Even if a Nightsider should get through to her through your own protections and through Hunters watch, I will be able to protect her still. And when I give my word to protect someone, they stay safe. However, this protection does require some trust on her part."
"What do you mean?" asked Relena and Milliardo in unison.
"In order to grant you protection in my absence, I will have to…alter you," the Executioner said to Relena.
Relena frowned in puzzlement. Alter?
"Could you please come into the light while you explain," said Relena. "I don't like discussing serious matters such as this when I can't see the person I'm talking to."
"Wise of you," there seemed to be almost grudging approval in the voice of the woman. "Very well."
Without warning the empty space on the right arm of Relena's chair was filled with a presence. Relena looked up at the person who bore the ominous title Executioner. To her surprise the person was not overly tall, in fact she was downright petite. She looked about twenty-three, maybe a little younger (not much older than Relena herself). Nightheart had bronze-gold skin. Her eyes were dark chips of obsidian, her gaze was sharp, piercing, arctic yet filled with a…a terrible knowledge. Her facial expression was reserved, an imperturbable mask that revealed none of the thoughts of the person behind it; the little she was allowed to see told Relena that, if forced, this lady would do whatever it took to fulfill her obligations. A soul of Honor, a soul of a warrior. . Her hair was dark ebony black and glossy like a raven's wing, braided and coiled neatly out of her way but for one single lone thin braid hanging down from just behind her right ear. Relena noted the small braid that hung down just past her breast mainly because it ended in a carved and polished shiny black stone that swung like a pendulum every time she moved her head or body. Relena couldn't tell if the stone was mere decoration or something more meaningful.
The Executioner was thin and willowy, and whip-cord tough with wiry-hard muscles that spoke of a warriors life. She reminded Relena of nothing so much than a large jungle cat at the moment, relaxed with claws sheathed…but ready to fly into an attack with bared fangs and deadly sharp claws the very second the need arrived. She moved with cat-like grace and silence and when lounging in a "relaxed pose" her weight was still perfectly balanced so that she could go flying in any direction in a split second. That spoke louder than words of her formidability. The final thing that Relena noted was a twin set of blades slung across her back. She could see the tops of the blades because the scabbards were half-scabbards for a quick and easy cross draw. The blades themselves weren't metal at all! Instead they were… well they looked clear! Relena couldn't begin to fathom what they might be made out of; some strange material from the other reality she imagined. The weapons had apparently seen some hard usage and Nightheart acted as if they were part of her. It just seemed unusual to see someone carrying around a bladed weapon.
Or perhaps it's not so unusual, Relena mused. She had witnessed earlier with that…head chopping thing, that Nightheart used the blade in her job.
"So what do you mean change me?" Relena asked, stifling her musings. "Change me how? You mean make me…like you?"
There was a wry twist of her lips, it wasn't much, but it said that this "Executioner" at least had a sense of humor.
"No. That is not a fate that I would wish on my own worst enemies…well, maybe on a few of them, but I believe they would enjoy it too much." The twist widened into a sardonic look. Relena smiled tentatively back.
"So what do you intend then?" asked Relena.
"There is a new skill out among the Nightsiders called Channeling. Mostly it is done with other Nightsiders, but on occasion if a willing Normal is found then they can be used in this manner as well. I say used because when you strip the finery and propaganda away, that is essentially what I will be doing. I will tell this to you directly because I do not believe you of all people should be kept in ignorance-" and here she leveled a sharp gaze at Heero who met her stare and scowled at her. Dismissed him as insignificant with a glance and turned back to Relena.
"What I will do will not cause you to become like me, instead it allows me to…aid you when a Nightsider attacks and attempts to use his powers on you. When one of them tries to draw the life energies from your body, or even lays a finger on you for that matter, I will be able to use your body as a vessel for my own powers, using you to draw out their own energy or use my own powers to attack them. So, if they attempt to kill you then I will be able to get to them."
"That sounds like a winning solution to me…it won't hurt will it?"
"You will see all I see inside of them when I use my abilities, I promise you that I will never perform an Execution while I am using you as a vessel. No Normal should have to know what it's like."
"She can be killed in other ways," Quatre pointed out. "What if one of them attacks from a distance?"
"That's what Hunter is here for," said Nightheart.
She looked around her at the room at large. "As for the rest of you, I have some ground rules."
"Such as?" inquired Heero, not really sounding like he cared.
"Rule number one… You do not go after the Nightsiders. I will be the only one allowed to Hunt them, all the rest of you Normals stay out of the way. If you see a Nightsider contact me and get out of there. Let. Me. Handle it. Got it? Rule Number two, You do not go after the Nightsiders. I can't stress it enough, just stay out of their way and mine. I don't want any of you getting killed trying to prove your level of testosterone poisoning. Other than that, do whatever you like, just don't get in my way."
"Nightheart, I thought we talked about this," Hunter said through narrowed eyes. "Your skills at diplomacy suck. You could stand to try making yourself a little more welcoming towards strangers instead of riding roughshod over everyone. Aside of that there is one more thing. I don't like you going out alone in a strage place like this one. I'm your partner, I should be at your side helping you."
"We did talk about this Hunter. You can help me best by staying here, out of harms way, and taking care of the little princess here. I need someone I can trust making sure that this half of my obligations is properly fulfilled."
"In case you hadn't noticed, the Princess isn't precisely unprotected," pointed out Hunter. He gestured to the figures in the room about him. "And from what I've heard this is about half of the team assigned to her."
"But none of her protectors are familiar with Nightsiders or their powers and tactics. Besides, they have what did you call them? 'slug throwers?' Hardly the kind of weapons that are going to strike fear into the hearts of Nightsider-kine. She'll be glad to have you there."
"Umm, could you two stop talking about me as if I wasn't in the same room with you?" Relena said, a little miffed.
"Ah, of course," said Nightheart. "I must perform the procedure now, because I need to start on my Hunts soon."
"Is this going to hurt?" asked Relena as Nightheart stepped in front of her.
"No. Now hold still."
Nightheart closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating and gathering her power within her, it came at her call, a familiar upwelling, a bubbling effervescence of vital energy. She then pushed that energy at Relena, flowing into her mind and body, carving out a psychic niche, a pathway to flow through when the time came. The others in the room were aware of something out of the ordinary occurring only by the odd starry, misty glow shot through with swirls of rainbow hues surrounding the two if them as she worked.
In a matter of moments Nightheart stepped away.
-Should you ever need to contact me, simply reach in like this…- Nightheart told her, and then demonstrated a peculiar mental twist…a tug on the new trail that was almost, but not quite, like a tiny thread connecting the two of them. –and Call on me. I will answer and aid you.-
"How are you doing that?" asked Relena, her head was still spinning from the odd feeling of Nightheart doing something…odd with the three areas on her. One was in the center of her brow, right where the third eye would be, another, in the center of her chest, three inches below her sternum, and the last at her navel, but somewhere directly in between her belly and her back.
"Doing what? The binding of your Contact Points or the telepathy thing?" inquired Nightheart.
"Um, both actually," said relena, still a little disoriented at hearing a voice inside her mind. It wasn't precisely unpleasant, merely unusual. Nightheart had a pleasant mental voice, it reminded Relena of quiet ponds or secluded forests. Of all places that held secrets hidden in their depths.
"Well, the second is easier to explain. Bonding with the Symbiont has made me telepathic. In our Alternaty, telepaths are not unusual, they are uncommon, but not so rare as to be considered freakish. Once long ago that was not the case…but that's all old history. Don't fear that I will go searching through your thoughts. Not only would that be rude in the highest sense, but I have no curiosity to know any of your inner secrets, I have my own after all."
"Oh, well that's good," said Relena, mentally reeling once more. A real true telepath? Now she'd seen everything! "And the second, what's a Contact Point?"
"Well, it's hard to explain. It would be easier if you had some background in the workings of Chi or qi," Said Nightheart. "I don't suppose you know about that do you?"
At a shake of Relena's head Nightheart looked disappointed.
"Actually, Hunter could explain it better than I can, he's studied martial arts in many of the Eastern styles," said Nightheart. "I have to get out there and start on my Mandates. Expect me when you see me."
And with that Nightheart just, disappeared into the shadows.
"I'm really starting to hate it when she does that," Milliardo remarked to the room at large. He turned to her partner. "So, what did that girl do to my kid sister?"
"Well, according to ancient chinese medicine, the body is run by the flow of energy throughout its meridians. The vital essence or life force is called Chi or Qi by the chinese. And also according to that belief there are a three different kinds of Chi, I forget their names just now but the gist of it is, there is an amount of energy that is granted us all at our births that comes from the Chi of both parents imparted to the child. According to the other Nightsiders, or so Nightheart tells me, it is this energy that is the most powerful and most sought after. The second kind of Chi is generated by our bodies every day from the consumption of food and drink and breath. This is used constantly, but also renewed constantly. There is a third kind, but I don't really recall what it is or does. Anyway, Chi is said to travel through out the body in spiraling pathways called meridians. Nightheart has told me that this much is true. And that Chi gathers in three main locations called Dan'Tien. The Nightsiders call these Contact Points and use them to access the meridians of chi throughout their victims bodies taking their energies and sucking them into themselves."
"Wufei has mentioned some things about Chi," said Relena. "I thought it was merely old Chinese folklore."
"No, they were quite correct in their assumptions," Hunter said. "What Nightheart basically did to you was to take the Dan'Tien in your body and bind them to her own energies. No other Nightsider will be able to touch you without her knowing about it. But, don't you worry, I personally have no intention of letting them even get that close."
While Hunter kept the people in the room occupied with his explanation of chi and contact points and channels, Heero slipped out to go find Trowa. He had a small favor to ask. Heero himself couldn't leave Relena's side to follow the Nightsider Executioner and verify anything about her, so the next best person he could think of was Trowa. True, Duo's specialty was sneaking around and going undetected…but he was worried sick over Hilde. Heero almost came up short, that was odd, normally he wouldn't have thought of it. Relena must be rubbing off on him.
He knocked once on the door to Trowa's room and waited for permission to enter. Even Heero wouldn't care to test his skills against the tall ex-pilot. He was not entirely sure he'd win, besides…why anger a useful ally?
"Come in," said the voice from beyond the door. Heero entered, to find trowa in the midst of dismantling one of his guns, however there was a second in his hand, trained on the doorway. Once Trowa had visual confirmation that the person on the other side of his door was not an enemy, the gun disappeared.
"Trowa." Heero nodded in greeting.
"Heero." Trowa returned the greeting.
"I would like you to follow this Executioner," said Heero without preamble. "I require information about her."
"Such as?" asked Trowa with an inquiring eyebrow, not looking up from where he sat cleaning his gun.
"Is she as powerful and as capable as they say. Is she trustworthy. What are her motives. How does she operate," he outlined without inflection. "And anything else you might notice about her."
"I take it you are asking me because you won't be going yourself?"
"Correct."
"Done, but you owe me," said the ex-mercenary, reassembling his gun and loading the clip with a soft snap. He rose and exited the house without a sound. Heero nodded to himself, satisfied that in a short time he would have all of the information he required to rest a little easier while protecting Relena…er, the Vice Foreign Minister.
* * *
Trowa spotted the fleeting shadowy form of Executioner Nightheart making her way past the lawns of Quatre's estate from his rooftop perch. He nimbly leapt to the ground, landing without a single noise and watched her from the shadows for a moment. She did not appear to be aware of his prescence…perhaps she was being careless. If so, that was one point against her. Trowa silently followed her at a safe distance, using the shadows in the darkness to hide his form. When she was away from the house Nightheaert took bent over her arm as if she were checking her watch and pressed some kind of panel on her wrist guard. A small holo-screen hovered in the air above her wrist, she pressed a few more buttons and some words and images scrolled across it. A file of some kind, was all Trowa could make out. The part of him that was not involved in anylyzing her every movement and trying to read her lips in the darkness, was thinking that he wanted that wrist guard, it was a very cool looking piece of technology. They hadn't anything like it here in this world. Nightheart frowned once, and headed toward Preventer HQ.
*
Nightheart heard the very soft, very subtle scrape of boot against pavement several feet away from her and made a mental note to herself to keep an ear out for further signs of being followed. Her would-be tail was upwind from her, and by heightening her sense of smell she could just faintly catch a whiff of his scent. She logged that away for future referencing. It didn't have the tang of a Nightsider, so whatever it was would simply have to wait.
I should get back to that room with all of the Nightsider Kills in it, so I can pick up the trail before it gets too cold, she thought. She shot off in the direction of the Headquarters in what for her was a ground covering lope. That was one nice thing about being a Nightsider, increased stamina. She could run long distances and not be out of breath. Still, in her opinion, the benefits in no way outweighed the costs.
Arriving at the headquarters, Nightheart noted that her tail was still with her…this person was in good shape then. They'd kept up with her, and if she hadn't been a Nightsider she still wouldn't know he or she was there. Breifly, she wondered how the person did it. Even if they were a potential enemy, she had to give them her respect for keeping up with her while not blowing their cover. That spoke of skill, she respected skill. But her trailer's agenda would have to wait until she had finished her Assignment.
Nightheart relied on the mental map of the place she had made earlier to giude her to the room she sought. There was a guard at the door, but she showed him her badge and he let her through. Obviously the efficient Lady Une had instructed the guards to do so.
The enegy signatures are growing fainter, she thought as she felt the faint lingering traces with her hands… She could sometimes get enough of a fix on an energy trail that she could follow it with her mind in a sort of Astral Projection and either see the Nightsiders next victim after the body she hovered over or see the Nightsider itself if he had killed no one since.
Suddenly Nightheart got that weird death-chill. One of the Nightsiders who had drained one of the Victims in this room had just drained another Innocent.
…And another. And now a third.
Nighthearts face and heart hardened in anger and helpless fury over the lives she was not able to save. She counted, one by one, the dying Innocents reverberating in the trail of the Nightsider. He was going on a Feast.
Nightheart locked onto the Target's energy trail and flew out of the room, determined to try to stop the Nightsider before her could take any more lives, but still the Death-Chills kept coming. As she neared the focus of all those Death Chills, they suddenly stopped.
Ancient Gods of my Honored Ancestors she thought, cursing her own stupidity. He must have sensed my anger as I neared and ran for safety. Well, no matter, at least he has stopped and I will have enough of a recent trail to track him down easily.
She opened up a communications channel to Hunter back at "the base" and said
"Hunter?" After all he might not be at the com-stat right at the moment.
"I'm here Nightheart," he said into her earpiece a moment later.
"I'm currently pursuing Target 0423," she told him. "Can you call up the file on him?"
"It's here," he said. "Target 0423, Alejandro Montoya. Alias-Codename: Bane. Level: Fourth Circle. Specialties: Telepathic Disguise, Charm-Compel, and something they call the Dragonsbreath." Hunter reported.
"I hate that power, by the end of the Hunt my uniform always ends up singed," Nightheart muttered. She turned her head slightly at the sound of booted feet running a "safe distance" behind her. So her tail was still there was he? Tenacious little bastard, she had to give him points for that. However, since he was a Normal, and she had sworn herself to the protection of his kind, here was the end of his ride.
Nightheard stepped into the shadows suddenly, to the casual observer it looked like she'd just walked into a fold in thin air. From there she used her powers to leap up onto a third-story rooftop in a single jump and watched her trailer as her looked about for her. Nightheart vaulted to another rooftop without so much as a whisper of movement. Actually, if she'd wanted to, she could have made all the noise she wanted and simply blocked it all out with a smothering blanket of silence…but that would have been lazy and sloppy. She looked down at her erstwhile follower. Measuring him up. It was definitely a man, she could tell that much by his scent alone. He was tall, and thin, Nightheart saw the muscles and the way he moved and immediately guessed that he'd seen his share of fighting. She watched as he flipped up over a fence and walked along top of the thin rail.
Impressive, he looks like those strange Outworlders that travel about doing shows of agility. What does Hunter call them? Acrobutts? Nightheart shook herself out of her reverie. Time to end this. She landed without an audible sound on the hard pavement below and quietly got just within range of him.
Nightheart froze him in place with a judicious use of her power. It wouldn't do to go wasting Energies, she never knew if she was going to need them. Fourth Circle was a little higher and hence usually a little more crafty and a little more clever than Sixth Circle and below. But a paralysis working was something small, relatively easy (provided you knew what you were doing) and effective.
Sure enough, he was frozen in place, unable to move. A Nightsider would have been able to block it, or deflect it or (if they were strong enough) reverse it. Not so the Normal before her.
"I'm on a rather stilted timetable so I want you to make this quick for me," said Nightheart. "Don't bother lying, I'll know if you do. And if you try I'll just forget about being polite and pull the answers I want directly out of your mind. Understand?"
The person didn't respond.
"Oh, right," she said. Nightheart's shirai with it's molecule-cutting sharp energy-blade manifested itself and she placed it gently against his throat, then released the paralysis hold on him. Wisely, he didn't move.
"Who sent you and why have you been following me?" she demanded. She could understand if she were in her native Alternity, lots of people over there wanted her dead. But no one knew her here in this world, and the Normal before her did not have the taint of a Nightsider Compel on him nor did he have the feel of being one of their Servants.
"I was sent by one of your allies to make sure about you," he replied quietly. "I'm called Trowa Barton."
"Trowa, huh? Is that your name?"
"It may as well be."
"Okay, Trowa Barton…You're going back home right now. I can't have you underfoot and getting in my way when I go after Bane. It's too risky for you."
"I've been a soldier on the battle field for as long as I can remember," he told her, his face completely devoid of expression. "Danger is never a problem. All those who seek to live their lives protecting what they love automatically accept the risks."
Nightheart considered the person before her, weighing the risks. On any normal mission she would have slapped a Compel on him and sent him packing back to base, but this was not a normal mission and perhaps her rules should be bent on this occasion. He'd kept up with her so far, he was a soldier, and he had been sent by the others to be sure about her. She knew that a lot of people had trouble believing what they had not seen with their own eyes. She would allow him to see her in action and let him take back confirmation of her skill and ability to the one or ones who doubted. She'd just have to make sure he stayed out of her way. No one, not even Hunter, was allowed near the scene of a battle between herself and a Nightsider once the Nightsider had been cornered.
"You've been following me since I left the house," she said. "I've been aware of your presence. If you wish to see for yourself what it is that I do, I will permit your company, but only this once. Then you will return to your friends after I have tracked down and Executed this Nightsider. You will tell them of what you see."
Trowa nodded once.
"It is rare indeed that anyone has ever caught me at trailing them," he said quietly. "You must have heightened abilities." He smiled a small smile and fell into step behind Nightheart, who had slowed her pace a trifle in order for him to keep up better.
Even if Bane has fled the scene, if I can reach those victims of his in time I might have a strong enough thread of his energy trail that I can work through it to slow him down just enough for me to catch up. Hopefully I can do it before he attacks again, she thought as she ran through the darkened streets. The night air filled her lungs and made her feel a little more alive. Even though she detested cities and a disgusting invention of the Outworlders. Trying to cut themselves off from the natural world in an effort to make themselves masters of everything, satisfying their strange taste for unnatural things…she'd never understand Outworlders. They were insatiably curious, unconcionably rude and never seemed to mind their own business.
Nightheart sent a thread of energy out to the Outworlder following along behind her, boosting his own reserves and nearly failing muscles. He would surely have bad muscle cramps before the night was out, she would have to remember to work a Healing on him before he went to bed, or else he would not be able to move in the morning. Soldier or not, there was only so much punishment a body could take.
-We're almost to the place where all of his most recent victims are lying,- she Sent to him. One look at his face almost made her loose her composure and chuckle. He looked like he'd been smacked in the back of the head with a board. –Yes, that is my voice you are hearing in your mind…from now on silent communication is best. Just in case Bane has stuck around to see what I will do next I don't want to do anything that will give away our position.-
"Telepathy?" he murmured. "I thought it was only a myth."
-No. Now please, silence is best from here on in. When I go to Execute Bane, you will not be accompanying me on the final part of this Hunt. You are going to hang back at a safe distance and observe from the sidelines. If I catch you trying to interfere, by the time I get through with you, you will wish your ancestors had never borne you. Do you understand?-
"Understood." Trowa nodded once. One did not contradict a commanding officer when they knew what they were about. This was effectively Nightheart's command, and her expertise would rule out in this instance. Trowa would obey her instructions to the letter.
Nightheart nodded in satisfaction. She would face Bane alone, of that she was sure.
Suddenly she stopped, drawn by the feel of a recent Nightsider Kill. It was like a prickling on the back of her neck and a tug at her skin; an all over body shudder and a chill up her spine. It was all of those things and more. She could sense the recent parting, the faint almost-scent of Bane's Nightsider Power in the air. He had been here recently and whether he was still here remained to be seen.
I wonder where "here" is, she thought. She tapped the Holo-Map on her wrist unit and the familiar square of light sprung before her face. The map had her location labeled as the West End. Looking around her, she could already tell that the West End wasn't the best end of town. The buildings were either crumbling or dilapidated from sheer age, and the ones that weren't either of those looked like they'd been blasted away. The smell of garbage and urine clung to the air making Nightheart glad that she'd turned off her heightened sense of smell a while ago. People who were obviously homeless and indigent shambled along, their shaggy heads bent and their hopeless eyes to the ground. She knew they weren't actually going anywhere, for they had no where to go. They were probably only moving because they felt it was better than standing still. Some of them talked to themselves in a barely audible murmur…one old man sat in the burned out ruins of a building and shouted about a war. She could see the loss of hopes and dreams in the eyes of some of the ones who me her gaze. Well, the ones that weren't half crazy or drugged up, that was. She saw them just shuffle along, counting out the minutes and hours until they could get out of their rut by way of the Final Solution. As a testament to the sheer penury of the neighborhood, there were no hookers in evidence. The place was so poor that no one who hung out around the place had the money to buy one, so they all plied their trade elsewhere.
Typical choice for a lone Nightsider Assassin looking to get some energies quickly. Go after the people who won't be missed, the drifters, the cast-offs, the forgotten she thought bitterly. Not so long ago she had been one of them, or something akin to it. The People killed and she the sole survivor, she'd had no where to go but into the unfamiliar Outworlds. She'd been a stranger in a strange land, with no knowledge of how to speak their language or how their strange world worked. She'd had to steal food.
Then she'd met Hunter and his mother. Bounty Hunters, who knew about the strange customs and languages of the Outworlds. They'd taught her to survive in their world. Hunter had been the first Outworlder she ever met who seemed to care about what happened to her.
Trowa was beside her, panting for breath.
Nightheart glanced sideways at him, she'd was feeling a little bit winded too after that mad dash from one end of town to the other.
-We're almost there. Then you can rest while I check on a few things.-
Nightheart closed her eyes and turned in the direction that the pull was strongest. The recent Kills were nearby.
Many Nightsiders or even the few Sect-Masters there were, preferred to make their lairs in such surroundings. The people there tended not to ask questions, and the ones who did could be either bought or silenced for the same amount of effort on the Nightsiders behalf. The perfect place for a hide away where you wanted no one knowing your name or face.
"What kind of things would you want to know about in a place like this?" Trowa asked, looking around him. Even he would be wary about entering this kind of territory armed or not. It was true that most of the people residing in there wouldn't bother to look up at his face, being so lost in their own worlds (most of them drug-induced), but the ones who did would mark him to hit later.
-Don't worry,- Nightheart assured him. –You are under my protection. Nothing will happen to you here while I am around…and there they are. You may not wish to see this.- Nightheart knew very well what she would find, however her familiarity with it never made that first sight of the piles of bodies any easier.
For the most part, Nightsiders were cautious in their Feedings. Unless one went into a Hunger-Frenzy or invited a few of his friends over to the slums for a Feast, they kept their activities low key. They usually picked out a single victim and attacked, or chose a person at random with a low level of personal willpower and overwhelmed them (just like in the classic vampire stories). However, when one did go on a Feast they threw caution to the winds, counting on the fact that once they were done their final accumulation of power would be so great that they wouldn't be messed with. Generally, with the exception of Nightheart and the Guardians, they were right. The bodies piled five or six high were simply dragged out of the slums, and the cause of them explained away by the media and the government as an outbreak of some disease or other, then all information was usually classified by the Institute.
"I don't think it's anything I haven't seen before," he told her seriously.
Nightheart shrugged. It was his decision for the time being.
Waves of death hit her like hammers to the skull. The taint of a Nightsider kill was overpowering in its intensity. Bane was living up to his name.
Ancestors Blood! Nightheart swore to herself. As usual, the feeling of helplessness and rage built up inside of her. She'd been too late to save them. Nevermind that there was no way she could have made it from there to here in time, she had still been somewhere else when all of these people had had their lives torn from them.
"I think I see one of the failings in your system now," said Trowa calmly. Nightheart looked over at him. "In order for you to catch a Nightsider and have him "Executed" they must first kill a victim. You can track them through the bodies of their victims, but first there must be a body."
"Yes," said Nightheart. Her voice sounded oddly raw. "That is one of the major problems with this. It is an inefficient system, but nonetheless it is the only one we have. A Nightsider must first commit a crime, otherwise if the News-Media ever got a hold of the story they would immediately shout witch-hunt. Also it is near impossible for a Normal to track down a Nightsider who is unwilling to be found. I need a body to get a lock on their…scent so that I can track them down. It is, what is the term Hunter uses? Catch twenty-two."
Trowa nods, accepting the necessity of it. It was much the same way in war.
Nightheart looked about her at the bodies. The pull of Bane's signature energy trail would not be at all difficult to follow now. I'm sorry, she thought helplessly at the bodies. I wasn't here when you needed me to be.
It was times such as these when Nightheart cursed the necessity of the victim in a Nightsider case, cursed her own inadequacy at not being able to be everywhere at once, cursed them, cursed herself and cursed the harsh reality of their condition. It wasn't fair!
The world isn't fair, she reminded herself. No one ever told you it was. The only kind of justice that exists in the universe is poetic justice, and that's usually more ironic than anything else. The only thing I can do for these people, and the Nightsider victims in the future, is try to avenge their deaths by hunting down their killers and Executing them.
But the really terrible part about the entire scenario…the part that just made her sick to her stomach some nights, was that in their own way, the Nightsiders (including herself) were as much victims as the people they preyed upon. They hadn't asked to be snatched off the street and used in experiments by the Institute. They hadn't asked to be mind-wiped and stripped of their personalities. They didn't ask to be made into hunters. And she'd never asked to be bonded with a Symbiont.
Sometimes, it makes me ill when I think about it, she thought. So for now, she didn't think, she concentrated on finding her Target.
Unusually enough, the energy trail was easy to read. Bane had gone to no trouble to hide his energy signature as he'd escaped, and that fact alone made her wary. He was close by, she could sense it. His scent lingered in the air.
-Come on, Outworlder,- she sent. –The one I seek is nearby. If you wish to see what it is that I do follow me. But when I tell you to stay in one position, you will maintain that place until I come for you.-
"I understand," he said.
Nightheart picked her way nimbly among the rubble and dead bodies. Carnage, that was her world now. Carnage and death. Nightheart looked over at the Outworlder tagging along beside her, he seemed undisturbed by the scene before him. Given his age, Nightheart would have expected him to be gagging at the sight of all those dead bodies piled on top of one another, but her just surveyed the scene with an almost casual emotionless-ness. Nightheart would have been dismayed to discover a mirroring expression on her face if she hadn't known that emotions meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant death in her occupation.
I suppose there was a time long ago when all of this would have bothered me, she thought to herself as she followed the ever-increasing pull of the Nightsiders' Death Trail. But I've seen so much and been through so much, that I guess it has all numbed me. Someday, when I rebuild my homeland and re-found my Clan, there will be a time for me to grieve and to feel once more…but today is not that day. I have a mandate to fulfill right now, anything else is a distraction. Bane…I will terminate you.
Nightheart switched to that other sight that allowed her to read the auras and energy signatures of others. She could see Bane's Death Trail hovering like glowing, flowing fog in the air. Moving and shifting like a mirage, it reminded Nightheart of the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights of the far north…that was precisely what it looked like. Like cloudy fire hanging in the air.
"Stay here," she directed, pointing to part of a wall that was still standing when the rest of it had crumbled from the force of a blast in some long ago battle. A good defensible position, the soldier in him saw that. Trowa crouched behind the wall and brought out his binoculars with night-scope on them. Nightheart nodded.
She walked slowly and purposefully towards the nexus of Death Energies she sensed in the blast site nearby. He awaited her there.
"Nightheart the Executioner," a voice said out of the shadows. It seemed to come from everywhere and no where at once. It had the resonant quality that characterized a Nightsider trying to intimidate someone. Nightheart had seen this trick only about a thousand times and remained unimpressed.
"So you've come at last. I'm honored," he said, his voice dripped with facetious sarcasm.
"I am here to fill out a Mandate for your execution, Bane," said Nightheart without preamble. "I have been assigned and authorized by the Alliance to terminate your existence for the crimes that you have perpetuated."
"Your strength is legendary among our kine Executioner. They say your powers and abilities are matched only by Nightlord Thanatos himself. I've greatly increased my own accumulation in my Power Reservoir. I think I am a match in power even to our own Nightlord, and I think I'm even strong enough to beat you. Let's find out, shall we?"
"I'm not here to compete with you. I've come to kill you. But if you wish to play war games, be prepared to die this night."
End Chapter 5
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Disclaimers: see chapter2