Old Hroldan sat in the shadow of Markarth's jagged mountain boarder, nothing more than a roadside inn with a storied history of ages past. Hjalti Early-Beard, who would later come to be known to the world as Tiber Septim, was granted victory against the Reachmen of the west. The might of The Voice paved the way for the one who would one day come to be known as Talos, mortal turned Devine, and one of the issues causing Skyrim to war with herself.
General Tullius and his most skilled Legates arrived to the inn just before sundown, two days after the Dragonborn had delivered his ultimatum. The historic inn was empty, save for the innkeeper and a less than stellar bard from the college in Solitude. The General made his way to the bar, fished out a sizeable bag of gold, and dropped it on the counter.
"By Imperial order of the Governor of Skyrim, this Inn is closed until next week. This bag of gold will cover your losses." Tullius said, his tone remarkably flat.
"Doesn't sound like I have much choice in the matter…" Eydis muttered, snatching the gold from the General.
"No you do not. Now please, fetch us some refreshments."
With a scoff, the woman went about her order as the Legion settled in to discuss their current strategy. Eight days remained before this so called "Unbridled Terror" started, and Tullius wanted exactly nothing to do with it. Things were not as black and white as they seemed: The dragons, of all things, had returned, reports of increased activity from both the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves' Guild, heightened bandit movement, and a host of other things Tullius didn't want to think about until this damn civil war was over.
"What do we even know about this Dragonborn character?" Rikke asked, taking a pull of her mead.
"Hodvar brought me the prisoner list from Helgen. Nero DeSade, Nord, hailing from Solitude." Tullius muttered, rubbing his jaw. "The only thing with the DeSade name on it in Solitude is Proudspire Manor, and even then, it's in the name of a Carmilla DeSade, from 2E 177…"
"So that name has been around for a while, what of it?" Legate Hrollod asked, leaning on the table. "Most family names here have been around for generations."
"True, but it bothers me that next to the deed for that manor, there is absolutely no record of the DeSade name, yet, it seems eerily familiar." Tullius replied, narrowing his eyes. "No death records, no record of birth for Nero himself, it all seems very strange."
The Legion talked long into the night on speculation surrounding the Dragonborn, all the while completely unaware of the eyes and ears listening in on their conversations. In the shadows of the rafters, two individuals watched silently as the talks of war continued below. The two scribbled down notes as the night turned into morning.
Late afternoon, Riften outskirts…
The hired carriage came to a halt, the driver turning around with an outstretched hand, wordlessly asking for his pay. The group of Nero, Aurora, Gerda, Faust and Fenrir all narrowed their eyes in unison, as if they were all going to ask the same question.
"This is as far as I go. One hundred Septims for the lot of you." The driver said, starting to get impatient.
"This was not the agreement…" Nero growled, crossing his arms in protest.
"Due to my past, I can't go any farther." The driver said, shrugging. "So pay up and walk."
"And who are you going to tell if we don't pay you?" Aurora asked, leaning toward the driver.
"I have friends in places that would be more than glad to get my fee if you don't pay me." The man replied, a sarcastic smile crossing his slips.
"I doubt that…" Aurora said, her right hand glowing with a frosty aura. "You won't be telling anyone anything if you're encased in ice floating out to the Sea of Ghosts… Catch my drift?"
"Ha! Drift!" Fenrir laughed.
Everyone exited the carriage, ignoring the carriage driver as he hopped off. In a single smooth motion, Nero spun around, launching a single gold coin at the human, drilling him between the eyes with enough force to knock him off his feet. Before the man could even get to his feet, the five passengers had vanished.
"If I don't get something to eat I'm literally going to die." Fenrir moaned, rubbing his empty stomach.
"How are you hungry?" Faust asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Because I didn't just devour an entire Stormcloak…" Fenrir trailed off, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Without a word, Aurora pulled out a piece of dried venison and handed it to the whining teen. He happily snatched it from her, ripping off a chunk between his teeth. The group's boots clicked on the stone road as Riften came into view between the leafy trees. The smell of the fishery caught the lycan's noses and made them crinkle as they drew closer.
The gates to the walled city of Riften swung open with an ominous groan. Entering the city, the group felt the uncomfortable gaze of the citizens' fall upon them. The south eastern city had seen better days. Due to its proximity to the boarder, Riften, and The Rift as a whole had become something of a cesspit, collecting all the filth that happened to wander through the area. The once respected and feared Thieves' Guild was but a shadow of a once proud organization, nothing more than a bunch of thugs passing purse snatching off as proper thievery. Nero shook his head as they entered Honeyside, the DeSade hideout in the region.
As the bunch was settling in, the thunderous sound of footsteps erupted from the basement, running up the stairs. Before Nero could react, he was tackled off his feet, coupled with the sound of an excited squeal.
"Master Nero!" The small girl cheered, hugging the lycan tightly.
"Good grief, who is that?" Faust whispered to Fenrir.
"Not a clue." He replied, shrugging.
"I've been so bored here! Dane and Seth never do anything with me!" The girl pouted, pushing herself to her feet.
The group gasped as the little girl pulled Nero up with no effort. They began whispering to each other as their leader dusted himself off with a genuine smile on his face.
"You know you can't go outside during the day." Nero said, sitting down at the table. "And there isn't much for you to do during the night unless… Well, you know."
"Oh! Oh! Nero!" The girl chirped excitedly. "I've mastered all those potion recipes you left me last time!"
"Excellent! We'll be needing a few of them in the coming days." Nero chuckled.
"Hold on one damn minute!" Aurora interjected, stomping her foot. "Just who in Oblivion is this?!"
Casting a glance to his ivory haired companion, Nero continued to chuckle to himself as he snatched an apple from the table. Taking a few bites, he motioned to the young girl.
"Everyone, this is Missa." He said, taking another bite. "She is in charge of our operations here in the east along with Vega."
"Why does she look about ten years old?" Gerda asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"I'll have you know I am going to be one hundred and fourteen this year!" Missa huffed, crossing her arms, sticking her tongue out at Gerda.
"You can't be serious… She's a vampire?" Aurora asked, a look of disgust crossing her face.
"She has been in service to the DeSade family since my grandfather's time. She knows more about eastern Skyrim than any of us could hope to right now." Nero commented, smiling at Missa once more.
With a huff, Aurora made her way down stairs while the rest stayed in the main room to visit with their new ally. Things were progressing well in Riften, apart from talks with the Black-Briar family. Maven was a tough customer, and if she didn't stand to make any money or gain power in some way, she wanted nothing to do with it. Maven's "civilian" dealings were always done during daylight hours, in broad daylight, giving Missa no opportunities to get her message across. All of her letters had gone unanswered or returned, much to the girl's disapproval.
"You know, we're going to have to get tough with that woman…" Nero said, his tone darkening the room.
"Oh I'm aware." Missa replied, smiling sweetly. "I think you being here will help with that."
"I agree… Tonight?" Nero said, flashing a fanged grin.
"Tonight will work perfectly, because she and her sons are staying at their lodge in the wilderness!" Missa said, twirling a strand of ebony hair between her fingers.
"Most excellent. We shall wait for sundown and make our way to meet them." Nero smirked, trying his hair back.
"What should the rest of us be doing?" Faust asked, leaning on the fireplace.
"The four of you will infiltrate the Thieves' Guild and persuade them in a way they'll understand: money." Nero replied, leaning back in his chair. "Until then, go rest up."
Honeyside fell silent as everyone settled in for a nap, save for Missa who went back to work on her potions. The vampire hummed a happy tune as she crushed several ingredients into a powder before adding it to a deep red liquid. The smell was deceiving, a light scent of snow berry and cinnamon masking a truly vicious and destructive poison. The concoction was two-fold, part one was a fast acting paralysis agent, taking the target to the ground at an alarming rate. Part two was a dichotomy in itself: a life draining venom paired with a stamina regenerating liquid. The victim would feel uncomfortably energetic, feeling the life seep from their body, while being plagued by paralysis. A heinous brew indeed.
Missa filled a few bottles with the poison before packing them away in a hand basket. She went about cleaning the lab with a vacant smile on her face as Nero descended the stairs, rubbing the last bits of sleep from his eyes as he crossed the room.
"Finished with the Eidolon poison?" Nero asked with a yawn.
"Yes!" Missa said, motioning to the basket. "There are a few other goodies in there as well."
"Nice…" Nero chuckled, stretching his arms out. "How long of a trip is it to the lodge?"
"A few hours if we walk, faster if we run." The girl said, packing away the last of her ingredients.
"Anything I should know about before we get there?"
"Besides her compliment of mercenaries guarding the place, not much."
"Key?"
"Of course."
Pulling a key from her lab coat, Missa tossed it to the lycan, her ever present smile lighting the room. The two made their way back to the main floor as everyone was stirring back awake. Aurora was still in an ill mood, Gerda was working on dinner, and the twins were still back to back on the floor, showing few signs of life. The group quickly went over their assignments as Nero and Missa prepared for departure.
"Not staying for food?" Gerda asked, tilting her head.
"We'll eat on the way…" Nero replied, cracking a vicious grin.
"I can't eat regular food anyways!" Missa scoffed, pulling on her red hooded cape.
Shooing them out the door, Gerda got to dishing up dinner.
The sun once again sank below the jagged horizon, drowning the land in shadow. The Tullius and the Legates had turned in late in the afternoon after a long night of discussion on the future of Skyrim. The two specters dropped from the ceiling without so much as a creaking board beneath their feet. Sliding to the bar, one of the men produced a bag of gold, grinning to Eydis as she snatched it from his hand.
"You boys stay out of trouble ok? The Reach wouldn't be the same without you two looking out for us Nords." The woman whispered, sliding a note across the counter.
"Like we'd let some faithless Imperials do us in." The man chuckled, pulling his hood over his silver hair.
"Squeeze every coin you can out of those puppets." The other man said, sliding on an eerie mask.
The two made their exit, making their way to the east under the crawling darkness. The valleys of the Reach were quiet, the only sounds aside from the men's footsteps were those of the Karth river moving swiftly below. The two walked side by side in unison, cloaking their footsteps within one another's. As Secunda and Masser crept into the sky, the pair quickened their pace as the moonlight washed over the land, casting vicious shadows from the rough valley tops.
"Rurik…" The man said from behind his mask. "We've been followed."
"Oh I know…" Rurik replied, cracking a grin under his hood. "I'd like to get out of this shadow first."
Employing their lycan blood, the two ran at a not so human speed, emerging from the fractured Reach onto the desolate tundra of the Whiterun region. The wind howled across the plains, whipping the capes of the two into unsettling shapes in the awkward moonlight. Their eyes scanned the area, their lycan sight giving them equal sight in either day or night. The slow sound of hooves clopping on the land approached, carrying with them agents of the Thalmor.
"Two on horseback, three on foot. Probably Justiciars. Their steps ring with false privilege." Rurik whispered, shifting his weight from side to side. "Maksim, how should we proceed?"
"It can't be helped… They've seen us, and they can't leave here alive." Maksim replied, adjusting the ancient mask upon his face.
A low chuckle escaped Rurik's mouth as he unbuckled the gauntlet on his left arm, revealing an intricate tattoo across his skin. The symbol began to glow with a sickening blue light as arcs of electricity jumped between the numerous rings on his fingers. The ill wind continued to howl as the group of Thalmor approached, weapons ready to deal with their quarry without diplomacy.
The onset of the skirmish happened in the blink of an eye. Before the horsemen could even touch the ground with their feet, they were sent skyward by an impossibly large bolt of lightning. The power of the assault scorched the eyebrows right off the three Justiciars standing on the ground, the horses sent into violent seizures from the electrical overload. As the enemy recovered from the initial shock [[Har har]], Maksim dashed into the fray, the scent of electricity still hot on the air. Vaulting over a fallen horse, the lycan spun in the air, using the force to deliver a punishing kick to the head of one of the Thalmor, taking the high elf's helmet right off his head.
As the helmet rolled to a stop, another bolt of lightning screeched through the air, effectively frying the two once mounted enemies. Their horrible screams sent chills down the remaining enemie's spines, stunning them long enough for Maksim to move into striking distance. With terrifying force, the unarmed fighter drove a vicious fist into the face of one of the elves, shattering teeth and dislocating the jaw with a vulgar crunch. A supernova of pain sent the Altmer into a state of shock, collapsing to the hard ground below.
One enemy remained, clutching his blade tightly as the moons were swallowed by the clouds. The veil of darkness swept the tundra, instilling a primal fear in the elf. His thoughts raced, looking from side to side, unable to see anything but choking darkness, coupled with the disorienting ill wind. His heart pounded, seeing the electrified arm of his target slowly drawing closer.
"I yield!" The elf cried, dropping his weapon.
No response was heard, just pain. He would have rather been shocked to death, but the Divines scoffed. A force he had never felt struck him, sending him tumbling backwards in a violent spin. The sound of a sickening crack cut through the wind, making Maksim wince slightly. The Thalmor had hit a rock, cracking his armor and snapping his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the chest down. The two lycans calmly walked up to their unfortunate pursuer, surveying the corpses of those who fell first.
"Shoot a spell at me and I'll rip your arms off." Rurik said, his tone as dead as those surrounding him.
"Please… Just kill me." The elf groaned, trying to pull himself away.
"If you lust for death, why are you trying to escape?" Maksim laughed, putting a boot to the elf's chest.
"Brother, such is the way of the cowardly yellow elves. Ask for one thing and want another." Rurik said, crossing his arms in disapproval.
The Altmer began to sob uncontrollably, all the while trying to slither out from under the lycan's boot. Masser and Secunda broke the clouds, once again drenching the tundra with an awkward light. The two looked down upon their blubbering captive, deciding if it was even worth killing him.
"Why were the Thalmor trailing us?" Rurik asked, his eyes shining in the moonlight.
"We thought you were Talos worshipers!" The elf sobbed, desperately scratching at the boot on his chest. "We're just upholding the laws of the empire!"
"Uh huh…" Maksim replied, leaning forward, squeezing the air out of the elf's lungs. "Are we supposed to believe that you followed us across two holds for that?"
"Yes!" The prisoner screamed, throwing his head from side to side.
"Well, we don't." The pair said in unison.
Pulling his foot back, Maksim sneered as he kicked the Thalmor agent in the side, sending him skidding off a few feet, throwing a few items from the elf's pockets. The two walked over, Maksim grabbed the elf by the throat as Rurik picked up a note. He opened it and read aloud.
"Lorcalin, the following is all we know on what we are calling The DeSade Faction. All physical descriptions are on page two.
Nero DeSade, 27 years old. Known aliases: none. Suspected to be the Dragonborn. No other pertinent information.
Faust and Fenrir DeSade, 21 years old. Known aliases: none. Younger twin brothers of Nero. Both work for the East Empire Trading Company out of Windhelm.
Vega Roanoke, 29 years old. Known aliases: none. Uncomfortably close to Nero, living with him in Solitude, works as Keeper for the Hall of The Dead. Slightly shorter than DeSade.
Aurora Luune, 26 years old. Known aliases: none. Unknown how she knows DeSade, but both have been spotted in various cities together.
Shaking his head, Rurik crumpled up the papers and stuffed them in his pocket. The pair laughed, finding some odd humor in the situation. The elf covered his face, expecting more physical torment, none came. Peeking out from between his fingers, the Altmer was perplexed by his target's actions.
"That's cute. Why even bother writing that down on paper?" Rurik chuckled, scratching his head.
"Care to enlighten us?" Maksim asked, tightening his grip.
"I don't know anything!" The man cried, desperately trying to escape the lycan's grasp.
"Somehow… I believe you. Even the Altmer know when to talk." Rurik said, shaking his head.
"Elenwen gives out the orders, we just follow them!" The elf screamed, his state of shock heightening.
"Puppets until death… Typical." Maksim chuckled, shaking his prey by the throat. "Time to go."
A blood curdling scream erupted from the Altmer as his throat was crushed in Maksim's grip, the vertebrae of the elf's spine shattering under the oppressive force. The essence once fighting for life fell limp, hitting the ground with a thud as the light left the Altmer's eyes. Maksim pulled off his mask, casting a bored stare upon the fresh corpse. The cool night air refreshed the man as he inhaled deeply, letting his guard down for the first time since leaving Hroldan.
"What now?" Maksim asked, turning to his brother. "I highly doubt they gave them any more information. Hell, these physical descriptions aren't even vaguely correct."
"They go the height right." Rurik mused. "But… What should we do about the Thalmor?"
"I don't think the others would want us to deviate from the time table. Besides, we don't even know where they hide." Maksim replied, beginning to loot the corpses. "And why are all these high elves dirt poor?!"
Later on, near Riften…
The odd pair of Missa and Nero approached the Black-Briar lodge with the beams of moonlight lighting their path. The crunch of leaves drifted through the eternal autumn of The Rift, blending nicely with the light breeze rustling the trees. The lights of the lodge cut through the mild darkness of the forest, instilling an odd feeling in the two as they drew closer.
"Hmm…" Missa pondered, putting a finger to her chin as she walked. "I really wonder why she never replied to my letters…"
"As I recall, she's a royal bitch." Nero chuckled, adjusting his cloak.
"I suppose I didn't make any mention of money to keep her attention." The vampire frowned, pouting slightly. "Hopefully these negotiations will go better."
"I'd rather not have to kill her…" Nero trailed off, glancing at the nearly full moons. "But… Ehh…"
"But what?" Missa asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Dealing with humans is so… Exhausting." Nero answered, sighing heavily. "Never thinking of anything but themselves."
Missa giggled, amused that one so young in age had such a view of how things worked. He was absolutely correct. Humans always picked sides, one way of thinking against another. The affairs of mortals did not weigh heavily on Missa's mind. She could care less if the Empire or the Stormcloaks ruled the land, just as long as she and her alchemy were left out of it. The two stood on a ledge, overlooking the estate grounds, and the pack of mercenaries lurking about.
"Good grief." Missa muttered, adjusting her skirt. "I didn't think security would be this tight."
"The weak need protection I suppose…" Nero growled, pulling off his hood. "How would you to proceed?"
Shifting her weight from side to side, the vampire narrowed her eyes, taking a headcount of the guards milling about. She drummed her fingers on her enclosed basket, mentally going through her inventory for the situation. She knelt, popping open her basket of potions and poisons. Keeping her eyes set on the guards, she pulled out a black bottle and a handful of throwing knives. The quiet pop of the cork made both the figures wince; hoping the people below wouldn't hear it. The pair sighed in unison as the noise didn't seem to bother the guards.
"That smells terrible." Nero whispered, covering his nose. "What in Oblivion is that?"
"I came up with this little demon last week. An extremely potent hallucinogenic poison, paired with a touch of fear." Missa replied, her tone ever cheery.
A sly grin crept across his lips as Missa handed Nero a tainted blade. Closing his right eye, the lycan took aim at the closest guard. Bringing his hand over his head, Nero exhaled and launched the knife. Time seemed to slow as the poisoned blade flew through the air, closing in on its unaware target. With the force the lycan launched the knife, the objected punched a hole in the mercenary's armor with no problem. Surprised, the man took a few steps back, ripping the knife from his chest. The man scanned the area, not seeing any immediate danger, or the source of the attack.
"Nice shot!" Missa whispered, handing her companion another poisoned blade. "You might not need that one. Look!"
Returning his eyes to his target, Nero's grin returned. The poisons had begun to take effect. The man doubled over, holding his sides in pain. Nero couldn't make out everything the man was saying, but everything he could hear was a jumbled mess of misplaced words and awkward syllables. Hearing the sounds, another guard came to investigate, only to get cracked in the ribs with the poisoned man's war hammer. His scream of pain alerted everyone else outside the lodge. As the rest came barreling around the corner, Nero let loose a handful of poisoned knives, all finding their marks and unleashing chaos onto the people below.
"It took me three days to brew all that poison!" Missa whispered, her tone fringed with annoyance."How am I going to get more Falmer blood?! It took me weeks to track down that horde!"
Nero suppressed a chuckle, covering his mouth as he looked upon the carnage unfolding below. The sickening sounds of breaking bones, squelching flesh and the splashing of blood permeated the air. The violence reached a fevered pitch as the poison crested, causing an absolute frenzy of blood and death. The two remaining men stared at each other, eyes wide with crushing dementia, weapons drawn and ready to taste blood. Their breathing was ragged from their wounds and the venom in their veins.
The Orc mercenary was the first to swing, missing his mark due to the violent hallucinations assaulting his vision. A fatal mistake, as the Argonian brought his hammer down upon his target's skull, smashing the Orsimer into the dirt with a cringe inducing thud.
"And what do we do about that one?" Nero asked, shifting his eyes to his vampyric companion.
"I don't think he'll be a problem… Look." Missa replied, pointing at the remaining guard.
As if on cue, the reptilian creature began to foam at the mouth and convulse, hitting the ground seconds later. With the twitching subsiding, the two made their way to the entrance, looting the corpses as they went.
"Times must be tough. Or Maven is a cheap employer." Nero mumbled, tossing a few coins in his pocket.
"Or both." Missa said, retrieving the throwing knives. "The Black Briar mead isn't selling like it used to… So I hear."
"I prefer Honningbrew anyways." Nero chuckled, popping the door open. "No key needed."
The two entered the house, happy to find that all the guards were outside. Their feet fell with no sound as they followed Nero's nose to the top floor, finding Maven reading a book by candle light. Crossing the threshold into the room, Nero tilted his head to the side, avoiding the war axe as it flew past his face, sinking itself in the wall behind them. A smile spread across his lips as he pulled off his hood.
"My my… Since when did you start wearing women's perfume, Isran?" Nero grinned, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Ever since I took this job for the Black-Briar's." Isran replied, stepping from the shadows. "I killed you. Twice."
"Clearly, it didn't stick." Nero chuckled, tapping his foot on the floor.
"Such manners!" Missa said, stepping out from behind Nero. "We're here for negotiations, not for blood."
"So says you, bloodsucker!" Isran spat, glaring at the small vampire. "I'm not going to trust a dirty vampire and an oversized dog."
"Now now, Isran." Maven said, putting her book down. "The least we can do is listen to them before we kill them, right?"
"Highly unlikely." Missa coughed, stepping in front of Maven. "Since I have your undivided attention, and since you ignored all of my correspondence, here is our proposal: We pay you a disgusting amount of money to mind your own damn business for the next month. You will stay here, far away from the events to unfold, so you can in no way influence the outcome."
"What?" Isran and Maven said in unison.
"Are you insane?" The woman scoffed, reaching for her drink.
"You can't be serious…" The Redguard laughed.
"Standing against us would be more insane." Nero growled, his voice drowning the room with a sense of dread. "And now, your sum is half of what it was."
"Your words do not scare me, whoever you are." Maven said dismissively, waving toward the door. "I don't need your money. I make enough of it as it is."
"Even with your rival in Whiterun stealing all of your business in the west? And the poor job the Imperials are doing keeping your shipments safe?" Missa mused, smiling innocently. "Or perhaps an unfortunate accident, tainting the next four months worth of both your regular stock and your reserve…"
"Empty threats." Maven said, putting down her wine. "My connections and influ-"
"Both of those are now on my payroll." Nero said, flashing a fanged grin.
Pushing herself to her feet, Maven strode with angry steps past Missa, looking up at Nero with a foul glare. She went to slap the lycan, only to have her wrist reflected with alarming force. The rebound nearly took the woman to the floor, luckily being caught by Isran.
"Now, as I was saying…" Missa trailed off, rocking back and forth on her heels. "You will stay here, far and away from the public eye, unable to influence anything outside these walls until someone comes to let you out. The money will be delivered during your stay here."
"Isran will stay as well." Nero interjected, leaning on the doorframe. "Unless you want your little club to be exterminated, that is."
"You alone cannot stand against The Dawnguard." Isran hissed, steadying himself and Maven.
"Who says we're alone?" Missa giggled, walking back to Nero. "Do we have a deal?"
"Hardly." The humans said in sync.
In an instant, Isran pulled the war hammer from his back and leapt at the supernatural duo. A grin crossed their lips as they both sidestepped, causing the man to smash through the doorframe with the weapon. Seeming to phase through space, Missa slapped Maven out of her chair and onto the floor as Nero kicked out Isran's legs, taking him to the floor. The Redguard spun on his back, swinging his runed war hammer once more with alarming force. The hammer head missed Nero's ribcage by mere centimeters, forcing a grim smile out of the lycan. Isran's scream ripped through the air as Nero brought a heavy boot down upon the man's upper arm, forcing the sound of bending armor and crunching bone into the room.
"Maven…" Nero growled, pulling his hood over his head as he turned, locking an icy glare on the woman. "Do we, or do we not, have a deal? Or would you rather I turn your bones to dust and sell the powder to the skooma addicts?"
"Fine, whatever." Maven mumbled. "Heathens."
As Maven went to stand, Nero appeared over her, striking the woman across the face with a thunderous crack.
"Thank your divines that I showed mercy today, because you should get exactly none, from anyone." Nero snarled, feeling his palm sting a bit. "Missa, we have much to do. Let's move."
"Yes, Master Nero." Missa giggled, sticking her tongue out at Maven.
Chapter 3- Vampire Missa: END
Next Chapter: Dusk Walker