She watched him with eyes that promised a slow and painful death to all that crossed her. He now stood leaning against the wall with the knife in his hands.
"This is my murder weapon?" he spoke quietly watching a few flakes of dried blood fall from the thing's blood channel beneath his fingernail. Then after a pause "Who are you, my murderer?" That wolfish smile returned to her pale face.
"Would we have awoken you if we were?" she spoke softly watching him turn the bloodied knife in his hands. He looked back up at her in puzzlement.
"We? I see no one else." he watched her eyes carefully. She wasn't lying, and he knew that. There was someone, or something else that journeyed here with her, something that was in the room with them, watching and listening to them. He could sense it.
A presence as over powering as gray-white fog.
"Mr. Valentine, my partner and I have been looking for you since we overheard a drunk in a bar boast that he killed you. Don't worry about him though, we dealt with that man." A flash of malevolence entered her eyes and all at once winked out of existence.

Behind those amber brown eyes, she was back in Midgar, at a bar in Sector 6, enjoying a rough draught of what the bar tender called the Mako Mix (basically it was a large jar hidden behind the other bottles on the shelf which contained the unused swigs drunks left in their cans, bottles and glasses, which the tender used to refill the jar every night after the drunks left. He even used the highly condensed liquor that was left from years ago. Some said he even used old bottles of machine fluid which he bought off the pack rat weapons' shop owner, but none could be sure. But the Mako Mix was the cheapest drink there, and probably the most lethal. She enjoyed the risk of slow organ failure) and left to her own silent thoughts as the stone ball rolled back and forth on the bar in front of her. It enjoyed making people stare in disbelief as it moved on its own accord, round and round the rim of her glass, then all at once, scudding silently the length of the counter making the drunks gape and snatch at it in futility. She watched as a single man wrapped his fingers around the mischievous sphere, only to pull away with a yelp as he stared at the singed stumps of what had been four fingers and a thumb a moment ago. She chuckled holding her left hand out slightly beneath her coat as the little blaze danced over the counter to meet her. The man yelled out as the terribly hot blood came rushing from the blackened remains. Hiding her smirk behind a feigned gulp of her Mako Mix, she watched the other drunks stare stupidly at the ash remains laying on the counter, like five burnt and curled cigarettes, lay his fingers.
She chuckled as the drunk yelled again and again, the others staring stupidly about like inbred Chocobos.
"Klyde, Klyde, 'tsokay. I took down that vampire piece of shit, I can take down this skinny lil' bitch." a drunk farther down the bar called to the screaming man. The one named 'Klyde' was attracting attention, but he wasn't going to be the only spectacle that night in that bar. Death was coming on gray wings like a thunderhead. "'Cmere bitch!" She turned to the man, her eyes swimming like great gold sharks in their sockets, there was nothing human about them now. When her eyes met his, his blood froze, and he dropped what was in his hand. A knife. It's blade smeared in dried blood, a few long black hairs clung in the dried mess. Her raptor's eyes widened horrifyingly. Silence, Klyde was suddenly quiet, as was everyone else, but she didn't notice. She never noticed how their eyes never left her rapidly mutating body, never noticed that when she made her way towards her would be murderer that the bar tender was groping for his shotgun beneath the bar. Little would that help him against the creature now advancing on one of his regulars. The air in the room crackled terrifyingly as the little blaze flew from her lengthening hand and excited the stale air into a gale in miniature. Her last bit of sense before her mind became a carnivore was to remove her jacket from her widening shoulders before they could tear it in half. She stopped. Straightening to a height of a towering nine and a half feet, she stared around the room. All stared at her, a snarl exulted over her full serpent face as she watched their unbelieving faces. A loud harsh bark snapped from her jaws making the people in the bar draw back.
Her snarling face spread into a fanged grin of a demon from this side of hell.

"Any of you worms who wants to drink away their lives another day, GET OUT! OUT NOW BEFORE SHE KILLS YOU!" the ball reeled through the air around her head as it blared this message, not in words, but in cold dark images and breaths of wind that screeched for its voice. They didn't need to be told twice. Some scattered like leaves in this synthetic storm, but most drew away through the door slowly. Scared as they were, most stopped at the door to watch, they saw their friend and fellow drunk meet his end that night, but still they watched.
Run Dean! They mouthed past her back towards the man staring up at her in terror. He never saw their silent cries.
"This 'vampire'," she spoke quietly lifting the knife from the floor in hand, which was becoming a long ribbed wing with gray blue sails, and set it on the counter next to them. "Who was it?" Dean stared in wonder at her. She waited patiently as she neared her full other form. He stuttered something incoherent, and the sudden acidic tang of urine filled the air as the man filled his pants. The stone snapped at his exposed ears and balding head with tiny green flashes of lightening from inside its cloak of fog. The tatters of her clothing littered the floor around her webbed feet as she stared down on the man like a starved dog would stare down a cornered rabbit. "Well?" she spoke almost soothingly. The man relaxed visibly.

"Vincent Valentine" he spoke in a soft sigh. Her face softened when she heard this, and Dean smiled, but all at once, her face became the face of a murderer enjoying his final kill. And Deans' face contorted in horror and infinite pain as a set of three long ivory like claws forced their way through his exposed abdomen.

"Where? Or can't you speak now?" she hissed lifting him from his seat. He stared at her snarling face while impaled on her clawed foot like a dog turd on a boot.
"N Nible" he gagged on bile and alcohol rising from the pain. She turned, balancing lightly on her other foot, and almost gently flicked him from her claws to the other side of the room where he landed in a heap, grabbing at his spilling innards trying to force them back into his broken body. She walked a few steps to the door and stopped.
"Finish up." she spoke turning slightly to look at the torn man laying on the floor. The ball floated down to the struggling man, snapping green lightening and dropping tiny water like globes of rain colored fire beneath it which burned small holes in Deans' clothing. And he looked up in time to see the taker of his life descend on him like a predatory bird on the bar sized storm. The sphere buzzed madly like many huge saw blades as it spun around his prostrate form. He jerked once as the stone buried itself in his back. It immerged seconds later out his leg, then shot down into the back of his neck. It sped up each time it flew out of him like a bullet until it became a gray and red halo around his jerking body. Its' work lasted only a few seconds, when it finished, Dean was no more, what was left was a gelled mass of bone, muscle, clothes, brains and even some pulverized floor boards beneath him which gave out and took him into the dark basement below.

"Asshole." she whispered stalking towards the door as the horrified drunks staggered away from the blood spattered bar. Behind her was a single dwindling repeating blood track. The stone flew after her, dripping Deans' blood onto her flanks as she tore the more persistent remainders of her clothes that clung to her.
"You won't go to him naked will you. You need clothes." the bloodied sphere chattered companionably to her when they reached the night air outside. "You're sick." she breathed past her blood splattered jacket in her jaws as she winged into the narrow sky of Midgar.
The look Vincent Valentine was giving her snapped her from the bar memory from a few days ago.
"How did you dispose of him? Surely the body would've alerted the authorities to your dealings. And they could've followed you by your description and travel routes, it couldn't have been that easily done." he spoke quietly.
"Sir, you don't understand." she smiled. "There was no body."

-Hello, Jade Rowwood of the Long Road here. I'm not very good at author's notes, but I'll give it a shot. Oh, before I forget, I own none of the characters except the stone, the metamorphosing girl, Dean and Klyde. Hey, but I wished Vincent was mine smiles mischievously, Hell, wouldn't you? SilverKnight, thank you for the review. I will try to answer questions too (my stories most of the time make no sense). If I told ya what happened, I'd give away the plot winks I'm sorry, but I can't answer that question yet. It will be answered soon though. Thanks for lookin'.

-Jade Rowwood