Galvatron clipped the end of the cigar and smirked. A strike of a match flared and illuminated the end as he puffed the end, orange glowing in the dark. He crossed a thick, strong leg over the other as he reclined in the red leather chair in his office. A thick miasma of heavy bass and smoke swirled in the room as he sighed to himself peacefully. It was another night than rang in his ears like a sweet song played too loud. It was perfect. And by the notes of smoke and flowers in the air there was someone behind him. His lips curled into a wide smile, teeth sinking down into the cigar.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Galvatron chuckled, four claws rising over his Adams apple. The touch was cold and calculating, thoughtfully sinister in a way that could only be Cyclonus'. Even when he was younger and more free he was quiet and looked as if he'd seen too much of the world's muck already. But now, the way the nails dug into his neck, Galvatron knew that the past was catching up with him.

"Do you remember the story your grandmother used to tell the children before they went to bed?" Cyclonus' voice hissed, his voice right next to Galvatron's ear like a threatening, icy cold. "She would tell us the story of the Romanovs and their monsters. The royal family was only a figurehead for the secrets they so desperately tried to hide. It was the only reason Rasputin was close to them… they were hiding a horrible creature that terrorized the burning colds of the deep Russian wilderness."

"I remember," Galvatron smiled contentedly. He missed Cyclonus' touch. "The Soot Snow Spirit. It was a metaphor for starvation, war, pestilence and plagues. Only it had manifested by way of corruption, right? I forget, it's been so long since I've heard the story."

"It was a bloodling that fed on life itself, draining humans not just of blood, but of essence. Until the sound of death's scythe sharpening close behind in the darkness did the bloodling realize its sins," Cyclonus hissed, grip tightened, another hand positioning itself over Galvatron's heart, nails posed and ready to sink in his chest and twist. "Legend says that only the blood and life of an angel could offer the rogue absolution and entrance into heaven. But angels aren't real… are they?"

"They are not," the broader man nodded, swallowing so that the taller could feel the motion. He wanted to see just how far Cyclonus was willing to go. "Fairy tales for the paranormal underground to keep them convinced that when they die there isn't a black pit of suffering awaiting their amorality. Why the sudden interest, Cyc?"

"The closest thing to an angel is an empath, a banshee, and a harpy. Now, Galvatron, we've both been alive for a very long time. I would have preferred to stay dead when my fighter plane went down in the third war, but God did not see my demise fitting to his great design. So enlighten me, as I abhor the world you dragged me into, what do all of those creatures have in common?"

Galvatron chortled lowly in the dark as the grip around him tightened to a threatening force. And so the pieces had come together. Harpies, at their very core, were constant talkers with the occasional ability to fly if their wings aren't clipped, eyes sharp and sure. Banshee's shrieks can find death in the loudest of places, their wails telling sailors and the darkened souls of wanders to turn back. Empaths were just augmented human souls, but their kindness and empathy knew no bounds. Their auras could fluctuate like an ocean, constantly absorbing psychic energy and emotions, susceptible to a slew of mental diseases and body effects of taking another's pain. However, all of those creatures, as unique as they were, had the ghostly white hair of a spirit and glowing, glacial water eyes that shone brighter than any stone. Highlighted, unique in abilities and appearance: they were meant to be found. And who were those Cyclonus knew that looked like that? Rewonda always said that the sun hurt her eyes, hence the glasses, but she really didn't want her eyes to be the dead giveaway. Temperance was just blind to her own skills as a psychic sponge, not knowing to hide that bloodline beacon.

"I do believe you've answered your own question there, Cyclonus."

"This world is rotting from the darkness and you threw rogues on her?"

"Oh, no, that's where you're wrong," Galvatron nodded, grabbing Cyclonus' wrist and bending it to a threatening angle that could snap it. "This little pet project you've been keeping is only a recent discovery of mine. I do not tolerate rogues in my ranks. They are taken out back as they deserve. What good is having a dog if its soul drive is to bark and howl, alerting your prey to your location? I thought you smarter, Cyclonus," Galvatron crooned, slamming the man against the wall.

A moment of heat spread between the two cold beings, Cyclonus shooting a menacing glower down at his old friend. They'd parted ways after Galvatron pulled Cyclonus' body from the water, laughing off the death surrounding them. He'd thought it so funny that they'd survived while blood soaked the sand fire crackled against the black sea. Death screamed in the air and it was all just a joke.

The older of the two could sense this hatred in the air, sucking in against the cigar and sighing the smoke right into the younger's face. He let an amused, mocking laugh roll off his lips as he watched the look on Cyclonus' face. He clicked his tongue and leaned in close, prying the pilot's legs apart with one of his own.

"What's so special about the little empath, huh?" The man teased, pressing a hand against Cyclonus' neck. It was met with a cringe and a low, guttural rumbling in the man's chest. "Does her excess of emotions help you rediscover your own or does she offer you something… more primal?" He hissed, pulling the man against him.

Seeing that Cyclonus hadn't so much as faltered as he might have in his youth Galvatron half-lidded his eyes in irritation. He missed that boy he'd met in the village in the snow. He was a mystery: quiet, enigmatic, and most of all an educated beauty with piercing eyes. They had always stared with such unspoken thoughts even before crimson swirled in place of their natural brightness. However, those days seemed to finally be gone. "What did you gain by carving up your face?"

"Solidarity," Cyclonus spat, shoving Galvatron aside and storming from the room.

"Hate me if you wish, but you'll want to hurry home. If the bloodling has gotten into her mind's eye then it isn't far behind. When the full moon lands on this Friday the Thirteenth the gates of the afterlife are said to open wide for all of one hour. If she's going to be taken any time and drained dry… it would be today… being Tuesday."

Temperance had blood running down her chin from another round of throwing it up. The drugs weren't sitting with her well even though they were necessary. She shook a little as she flushed the toilet of the outside bathroom, rubbing her face clean on a towel. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw just how pail and scared she looked. Darkness lingered in her face and it looked far more sallow than she could have recalled. She really was at her end. And after waking up, too.

She stared at herself for a long time, sucking in her bottom lip as she tried smothering that memory of Cyclonus' blood under her nails. She'd scrubbed it frantically away as she sobbed, slinking down to her knees under the hot, rain water tank spray. Cyclonus' arm was healed by the time they got to the hospital to see Rung, but it didn't stop her from feeling sick with regret. Among other things.

A rattling sound echoed from outside her thoughts, Temperance's eyes widened as she turned her head. She stared at the door handle that was rattling frantically now, almost desperate to open the door. The girl pressed her back up against the sink, hands shaking as she gripped it for support.

"Cyc…. Cyclonus?"

No… this was a low, guttural panting like an animal cornering prey. It scratched and made soft breathing noises, rubbing its form against the door. It had found her. But she wouldn't scream. That's what she told herself anyway. She'd steeled her mind for seeing that thing again, but part of her had lost all of her strength in favor for shaking.

Suddenly the world went quiet, the girl's pale, trembling hand grabbing at the handle. She slowly twisted it and threw it open, raising a bar of soap as her one and only defense. She opened her mouth to give a scream, but there was nothing there. She peeked out from around the corner of the bathroom door and around the other side, profoundly surprised that she was alone. She sighed in relief, walking out after replacing the soap in her stead. She grabbed the door and threw it shut, turning and nearly fainting. There, looming from behind the door, was an impossibly tall, grey creature with sunken red eyes and a primal hunger in its eyes like nothing she'd ever seen before. Blood soaked its face among other fluids, its mouthful of sharp teeth snapping towards her.

Cyclonus was already running through the rain when the ear splitting scream echoed through the city. A few looked up and wondered what was going on, but the tall pilot knew far better. He picked up speed, not caring if he defied the natural odds of the world. His hands grabbed onto the brick edging of the building he lived atop, scaling it at a frightening speed. He threw himself over the edge, running around the building. Nothing. Inside the apartment was even more of nothingness. His crimson eyes shot around, body still moving in a search when the scream, erupted from him like a lion's roar. He was too late.

The air crackled and burned around him as he caught the stench of rot in the air. Though it was putrid and heavy with the layers of iron and festering sores, there was a trail. However, there were other matters to attend to first.

Whirl stood defiantly on top of the apartment with his black-blue hair whipping in the wind. His bright gold eye twinkled in the dimming darkness, smile wide as he looked down at the man summoning his own evils.

"Quite the sight. I didn't think the stiff had it in her," he nodded, almost like a proud father.

Before he could explain Whirl's head was kissing the tarred rooftop of the building with a loud thud and crack of the material. He lurched, shock fading into a defiant smirk. "Kill me? When I saw where that thing took her? How unwise. You're really getting senile in your old age," Whirl threw him back, yanking a pistol from his pocket and clocking it over the man's head. Cyclonus reeled, blood running down his face. He winced, the fiery healing stinging against his temple.

Whirl, wobbling to his feet, pulled the gun back with a satisfying snap of the bullet getting in place. He loved that methodical sound. Such a sweet, satisfying noise to hear before an earth shattering bang. However, he'd idled to long. Cyclonus grabbed a fistful of that black blue hair and pulled the young man forward by his head, the man's knee coming up and digging into Whirl's diaphragm. He coughed a mouthful of blood, vision going white for a blink before he felt a fist throw him sideways onto the roof. His body had no time to recover when the pilot was pulling him up off the ground and into his hands, punching him over and over until great spatters of blood soaked the tar.

"Go-d… damn it!" Whirl snapped, eye widened like a cornered dog, grabbing his gun that had been thrown from his hand and firing it into the older man's shoulder. Cyclonus threw his head back in a scream, teeth barring. "I didn't come here for a goddamn fight!" He barked, Palestinian Arabic rolling off his tongue in bitter snaps. "I came here to fucking get her out of the fucking area."

Cyclonus' look, pained and impatient as he dug the bullet out of his shoulder, was not a convinced one. Whirl explained that the chatty Harpy who ran the bar he hung out at and Rewonda were taken last night. People, Harpies, Banshees, and Empaths across the globe were disappearing.

"I thought that taxi driver Rewonda's married to was going to actually throw his car when his friend the cop told him there wasn't anything they could do. And whoever the chatty one likes is literally gathering a fucking hunting party to find her. The only reason I'm here is because I… cause I fucking owe the shaky one."

"You owe her?" Cyclonus spat, voice flat.

"Eh, my medical boyfriend said that if she hadn't righted me after you dropped me something with blood and brains and all that could have happened. Any way she also called me afterwards to see if I was okay. I think she was with Rewonda or some shit, but she's a good one. Kid's good…" He sighed, blowing the blood from his sore nose, rubbing his face clean. Rain picked up overhead. "I don't know shit about this whole paranormal world and all. Frankly I don't want any part of it. Prefer to keep my agendas in line. But the kid doesn't deserve whatever the hell that thing was coming after her."

Cyclonus couldn't deny that. She didn't deserve anything that she got in life. Not the hauntings, not the torment, and certainly not her life being cut so short just after she was learning how to live. And considering Whirl was actually taking a break from psychopathy she must have said something incredibly… well… Temperance.

Flicking the bullet off the roof Cyclonus stood, grunting as he felt the fresh muscle fibers adjust inside of him. The skin was pink against his ashy tan, jacket singed away by the impact. He grumbled impatiently as he let the rain wash away his own blood stains.

"So could you just pull the goddamn stick out of your ass for like five seconds to do something good?"

"You want to do something selfless?"

"Mm… not entirely. First Aid has locked me out of the apartment and refuses to let me touch him until I pay the ghost girl back," Whirl shrugged. "I miss my boyfriend, Cyc. You of all people must understand that. You know man, with you and, uh… shit, what's his name? Galva-," Whirl began, another fist colliding with his sore face and throwing him from the roof.

His body cracked into the concrete of the building's roof and moaned, body stiff and curling on its side as he felt nausea consume him. Then again, he thought, pain spreading like wings against his back, that wasn't probably the best move. "Man," he coughed as Cyclonus jumped down from the apartment's roof. "I'm not fucking immortal. Think you broke some ribs. Ngh fuck."

Peeking over the edge of the building was a headful of bright red hair and judging blue eyes. Two pale arms swept over the edge as First Aid stared at Whirl, pissed, but necessary. He was probably right. That wasn't smart to throw a human off a roof. Even so the medic gave a thanking nod to the looming pilot as he knelt down beside Whirl.

"Did you just thank him?"

"Fully deserved," he said again, pressing him into the roof as he went to work. "Your bones are only bruised. They'll hurt like hell, but they aren't broken."

"Sometimes I swear you don't—Gah! Damn it!—Don't love me."

"Eh," the medic shrugged, face bitter even though his touch was gentle.

"Eh?! Don't you eh me!"

"I'll stop giving you the cold shoulder when you find that girl."

"Why is it so fucking important to find her right now? I mean, we have a few days don't we? So long as we find her in time she's not gonna die!"

First Aid tensed when he felt a sweeping cold other than from the rain. Cyclonus only went to his apartment to brood in thought, trying to figure out where she could possibly be. With the rain soaking the earth, petrichor smearing away the bloodling's scent, only faith and quick action could save her… and God did they need to move fast.

"Hey… Kid, wake up," a familiar voice hissed, nudging Temperance from her slumped over state. The girl rolled her heavy head in the woman's lap. Rewonda sighed thankfully and smiled that wide white smile down at the girl who was pale as the snowy dawn. "Oh thank god. Morning. Sleep well?"

"Rewonda?" She croaked, swallowing hard and coughing when she tasted the blood that had been sitting in her mouth.

"Oh, hey, she awake. Dude, finally. It's so boring. No offense Rewind, but you're kind of a sarcastic ass sometimes. Say, what's your name?" A fast talking short one asked, his face brightening when he yanked against a chain that held him to a pole. His eyes that similar blue, but his hair was bright red with white roots: he'd nearly perfected hiding the hair.

"Shut up, Harpy," Rewonda grumbled, using her bound hands to help her friend to sit on her haunches. "Sorry about him. Never shuts up, constant plague to those with working ears, and his only skill is metal working and bartending."

"And jokes! Buddy says I'm great for a laugh. You wanna hear one?"

"Swerve, we're in a goddamn warehouse that smells like a meat factory made out of rotting cows and you want to tell a joke?"

The man blinked quickly as if it wasn't the most apropos time to make a humorous gesture. He shrugged and leaned as far as he could which was on his stomach. Whoever had bound them had tied his hands behind his back. They knew it was better than to let him see the metal he was locked up with.

"Yeah so? I like a laugh," he beamed, wiggling closer to the girls. "What's your name?"

"T-Temperance," she coughed, rubbing her bloody palms on the ground out of their sight. She didn't want them seeing.

"Wow, how cute. Who's your brother, Prohibition?" The man erupted in a hardly laugh, his eyes tearing up even though no one else laughed. "Okay, not my best. But what's your angle?"

"What?"

"He means what breed are you. Nosy little shit. This is why no one likes you at movie night half the time. You never shut the hell up," Rewonda hissed, grabbing Temperance's hand. "But that is a good question… I mean… Harpy… Banshee… I don't think coma patients qualify as supernatural."

"Supernatural?" She jumped, looking confused. "Sometimes I have vivid dreams and I can see shit, but that doesn't qualify as supernatural."

Swerve and Rewind took at each other and then both back to Temperance. They were entirely unconvinced. And so Rewonda went into the explanation of why they had nicknames that were far from human sounding. She explained why they all three were there in the most normal sounding words she could muster. Though it's hard to explain that Swerve was part bird and got his name from being such a phenomenal getaway driver and that Rewonda was a banshee who stole, sold, and gathered information for the paranormal underground.

"Cyclonus got his name back way when for being one of the best fighter pilots in the history of the wars, Galvatron, the head honcho, had skin so think it was thought his under layer of dermis was made from metal."

"And Chromedome?" Temperance asked.

"He's bald," Swerve laughed again. Rewonda kicked him and narrowed her eyes. "Joking, yeesh."

"That's not the issue," Rewind—Rewonda?—said lowly. She grabbed her glasses and slid them off, her brilliantly blue eyes gleaming even in the low light. She handed them to Temperance and clicked the button on the side. "Can you see?"

"Is that… wait, is this…?"

"Footage from my apartment, Swerve's bar and his apartment, Cyclonus' place, Rung's office, and CCTV from angles around those locations; I tapped into the network nearby. They've been planning this. Far too sophisticated for a rogue bloodling hooked on fresh blood and a pulse. Someone else is behind this."

"Wait… why Rung's office?"

"He's a—" Swerve began, Rewonda headbutting the loudmouth. She made a hissing gesture to silence him. "Ow! I don't get it, why does Chromedome like you? You're so mean sometimes!"

"It's a special bond you would not understand because it requires a moment of silence that's longer than the time it takes to take another breath in to speak again," she smirked, turning back to the girl looking around the room, eyes watching as Cyclonus was sharpening a long sword with a gemstone hilt on the bed. It had been mounted above the door like an antique, but now it was gleaming in the low candle light. He looked menacing, betrayed even.

Temperance took the moment of silence to murmur the song she was taught beneath her breath, eyes stinging with tears. No, she had to be strong. She smiled through the tears that ran down her face, the heavy tongue hard to pronounce. And yet, when Cyclonus sang, it was a sound so sad and beautiful that it hurt her just like when her own voice weakly mimicked the swan song.

Rewonda and Swerve watched as the girl pulled her knees up to her chest, her hands resting on the ripped up jeans. They were blind to the feelings except Rewind. She could feel the shivering cold of Death looming over the girl as she watched Cyclonus through the camera. Temperance swallowed another mouthful of blood and shuddered, praying that he would hurry. It was a selfish wish, but one she wanted more than anything else.

Just as she said that Cyclonus stood off the bed, took the sword, and walked over to the door. He looked straight up into her eyes, his own glowing red. He grabbed the microcamera from the wall and stared into its lens with pure menace. He only said five words into the speaker, grip tightening around it almost to crush it like a fly.

"I will find you."