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Blessed by Chaos (Razgriz x Degusaurusrex)

Razgriz

Shall we write beautiful stories together?
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Joined
Jan 27, 2011
America.

Such a wonderful place. Full of opportunity for just about everything. Success, failure, prosperity, poverty, happiness and even misery. The numbers of paths that one could choose from were practically endless, and even more so were the ways one could walk said path. Some walked an honest path, leading their lives in a way that their choices didn't affect others and didn't place themselves in unnecessary danger. Others chose a less secure path, but with the elevated risk came great, great rewards.

The path of a criminal, those who delve into the 'unsavory' side of the human condition, is often laced with risk everyone one might look. Capture by law enforcement was always something that loomed over even the most hardened criminal's shoulders, on top of the threat of the ultimate penalty for a mistake: Death. Something that all mortals had to come to terms with, but often arriving far sooner than anticipated in the underworld.

However, good and evil are very subjective and often are not as black and white as many would like to believe. And tonight, this statement would be put to the test....

*May 20, 2004, 2355 (11:55 PM UTC). Unknown Warehouse Complex. Petroru, Kentucky*

Tonight was a big night for the Vice Lords and La Raza Nation; the plan was to meet up and pool their resources together. Why bother fighting? If they both joined up, they'd have more bodies to patrol the turf and still make boatloads of money. And with the Lords' grip on the drug ring and La Raza's gunrunning connections, that profit would be sweet. And with Willie Lloyd out of the picture, the Lords could rise again and make their mark on this new turf.

All the big names were there, and things were looking up...Until Kentucky's newest 'resident' came to crash the party.

Almost as if on cue, right as the clock hit 12:02am, shit hit the fan and hard: A phantom shadow struck from what seemed like every direction at once, and bodies started dropping. Gunshots rang out like a demented symphony, the former gangbangers falling to the floor with a dime-sized hole in their foreheads, a ring around the wound from the pressure of the barrel being forced against their skull. Exit wounds sprayed blood, brain matter and bone fragments across the floor, and the sounds of empty brass hitting the concrete just made everything more absolute: Death had come, and it was taking no prisoners.

It felt like an eternity...It really did. But then, fear did amazing things to the psyche. And right now, the sole living member of the Vice Lords chapter in Joliet, sat with his back pressed hard against a support column, his own gun empty and the slide shifted back to show as much. The dark brown hues of the young Latino man were dilated to an impossible degree, the thick jacket he wore doing little to warm him from the frost that coated his spine. His cap - a classic White Sox hat - glistened on its black surface in patches with the blood of his former Lords, red streaking down the front of his navy jeans and dotting the surface of his once-pristine white Nikes. Truly it was the picture of a man facing the Reaper, with no hope of escape. Even more so when he looked around and all he could see was red streaks. And the bodies, their eyes dim from lack of life and gazing towards the ceiling as if stupefied by what had happened.

"You think this changes anything? Once the rest of them hear of this, you're dead. The Lords will find you, and you'll get yours." he tried to say in as much of a macho tone as possible. The fear, however, laced every single syllable of his statement, his pitch varying greatly with each uttered words.

At this, the same spectre of destruction that stepped forward, a Colt .45 ACP pistol leveled at the man's head, another held firmly by his side. "Maybe not right away...But at least this little reunion is over. If there is a hell, let me know...And tell Satan this when you get there: He's next on my list." said the figure, the finger squeezing on the trigger.

BAM!

A single shot rang out, the sounds of the blast echoing and reverberating, the gangster's head lolling forward after being thrown back, a singular hole between his eyes leaking a small trail of blood. His body fell limp, signaling the end of the slaughter.

And still standing was one man, his cold steely-blue eyes peering at the carnage, the barrels of his guns still smoking from the repeated firing as the assailant. His form dressed in mussed combat fatigues with kneepads, black combat boots with one having a knife holster on it, a black hoody over a bullet-proof vest. Just shy of a dozen gangsters. Massacred in less than three hundred and sixty seconds. Blood streaked the cold cement like a masterpiece, the bodies on the ground a macabre human portrait of mortality. And after that last piece of brass collided with the concrete floor, its distinctive sound resonating through the emptiness, all that lingered in the air was a deafening silence. That and the iron smell of blood on the warm spring night.

The police office would be busy tonight...But thankfully his business here was almost concluded, pulling off his hood to reveal a head of shaved brown hair and a medium-length brown beard. "Just one more..." he would say, his voice gruff and harsh, hardened by his previous years of war.

That familiar wave of relief washed over him once more, that utter feeling of satisfaction that here...Doing this....He was actually protecting the people. No one would call him a hero, well at least not everyone, but at least with this he made another dent in the criminal population. Sliding the pistol into a hip holster, he would then start going around to each of the dead gangsters. Gloved hands looting them of any cash and shoving that and any ammo they had into a bag, along with a few of their choicer weapons: A Steyr TMP and a Beretta M9, both of which were chambered in 9mm. He was running low on that, but these were good guns. Ones he could use in his mission; he didn't want to linger too long though.

And soon enough, the sound of sirens was on the horizon; he had to leave. Now...And after making sure he'd taken everything he could of value, he went out the backdoor of the warehouse. Stealing away into the night.
 
“Hmm.” Staring at the images flickering in the air, green eyes examined them with intense scrutiny. They were barely shadows at first, the air warping as she sifted through the different bits of reality to find what she sought. The faint sound of shouting droned on, the smell of blood growing stronger the more defined the images became. They seemed to merely hang in the air, reality itself rippling as she found what she wanted.

“There you are.” Stopping the circling motion of her hand, she abruptly flattened her hand into a palm and held it still. The images began to flesh out, becoming more clear as the rippling around her stopped. Soon they were formed into defined faces, splattered with blood as the shouting became louder and louder. She cringed at the sound of gunshots ringing out in quick repetition, the screams of the dying echoing as if she stood in the room. It was mere moments before her lips curved into a smile, her eyes fixated on the carnage before her.

“Oh, to witness this in person..”

“Eris!” Her hand fell to her side as she cursed loudly, spinning around to face the source of the voice. The petite blonde was beaming at her, bouncing across the room as if death itself hadn't been hanging in the air.

“Aphrodite!” Scowling irritably at the other woman, she turned her attention back to see the images fading into a smoky cloud. “Now I have to do it all over again! You're lucky I know where it was, so I can simply conjure it up again.” Waving her hand in the air lazily, the images popped back up in the blink of an eye. Blood, death, and the single entity that had caused such chaos that it had her smirking.

“Oh, that is just filthy, Eris. No wonder you're damn near getting off over there.” Holding up a middle finger over her shoulder, Eris ignored the other goddess. Bringing the images closer and larger, she fixated on the one who had slaughtered so many, so quickly and so carelessly.

“..Interesting. Those are the eyes of a man on a mission.” Cold, calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it seemed he had no intent of stopping. “Aphrodite, come here.” Beckoning the shorter woman forward, she listened to the quiet sound of footsteps before a body was at her side. “Look at this.” A scoff sounded in response, Aphrodite making a fake gagging noise.

“This is your thing, Eris. You know I prefer to see couples either fucking, or getting married. You have fun with this, I'm going home lest I vomit in your presence.” The last word had barely left her mouth before she was gone, and Eris took one last look at the images moving before her.

“Oh, you're smart. You are going to be an absolute delight to watch.” Listening to the sound of sirens in the distance, her smile only grew. With a simple snap of her fingers the images disappeared, leaving her to move about the room with a growing sense of excitement. She'd been smart to conjure up this man, to follow along in what appeared to be a habit of murder.

“Get out of my house, Ares.” The Greek left her mouth fluently, hanging in the air as she leaned over a desk. There came an offended scoff as boots thudded lightly across her floor, a head of dark hair peeking over her shoulder.

“But Dear Eris, I just wanted to see how you were doing on this lovely night. What pain are you inflicting on the mortals this time?” Shouldering at the head propping itself on her, she spun around and shoved, hard. Black smoke curled from her fingertips, dancing across Ares' shirt even as he grinned.

Keep that up and I'll inflict pain on you next.” He grimaced but disappeared from the spot, leaving her to dig out pen and paper. Despite being able to conjure up images at will, it had become habit to jot down cities, names, information she could use to her benefit.

“Until next time, my little murderer.”
 
The scene the first responders came on would be rather horrendous: It was like a scene out of a slasher movie. Bodies left dead where they fell, their eyes blank as slates, blood pooling under them and staining their clothes. The rookie officer, a young man who had just joined after finishing the Academy, ended up vomiting from the sight, the carnage too much for him to handle. The senior officer calling into dispatch that this person had struck again.

A few hours later, the police had the scene surrounded. Damn criminals, always made the job difficult; someone must have gotten paid off to leave early or something, because they were no guards on duty. At all. Which meant no witnesses. And the dead gangbangers wouldn't be telling any stories. Except that the one who killed was also responsible for three similar incidents in the past month. And god only knew how many went unreported.

Just as the crime scene investigators were finishing up gathering the spent brass and dusting for fingerprints wherever they might find them, a well-dressed man soon approached the scene, his sport coat fluttering in the slight breeze. This was Detective Michael Stanson, lead investigator and member of the Petroru Gang Task Force. Having served quite a few years, it was difficult to get him riled when it came to dead sleazebags. But this person taking a personal contract on these gangsters was starting to give him a headache.

The town was normally quiet, a standard southern city where the people were friendly, neighbors knew everyone's business. The influx of gang members here was definitely not something he wanted, and a part of him was glad this trash was being swept out. But...Still, would it hurt to tone it back? Now the townspeople were starting to get worried whoever was killing these gangbangers would target them.

"Christ...How many this time?" Michael asked, stepping under the police tape after showing his badge to the officer in charge of securing the scene. "Eleven, detective. Same MO: GSWs at close range in varying locations. One poor bastard took one in the junk. Made a hell of a mess." The detective just pinched the bridge of his nose and added, "Anything useful? At all?"

"Nothing we can see so far. CSI's wrapping up things here, but you can poke around now. See if they missed anything." said the policeman; Stanson gave him a nod and walked to one of the columns in the warehouse where one of the bodies laid against, his head and neck having been repositioned by the investigators to show the Vice Lords ink on his jugular: A five-pointed crown. One of their many insignias they adopted from other gangs they assimilated. The only evidence he saw was the single gunshot to the center of the head, and nothing else stood out for him.
 
"Hello, Carolina." The woman grunted in response, waving a hand lazily in the air before ducking down under the tape. Pleasantries were not her thing and it showed, brown hair pulled into a tight bun at her neck and a deep frown marring her face. It seemed to age the young woman several years, dark eyes scanning the massacre that lay before her. Her eyes flitted around the room, never focusing on any one thing for long before moving onto the next.

"Oh good, you're done." Inclining her head towards one of the crime scene workers, she wasted no more words on them. It was a pain in the ass to move around and examine things with them slinking around cleaning up, always leaving the chance of her disrupting evidence. With it gathered and out of the way, it left her the freedom to move about as she pleased.

"Right in the junk, huh? I can't say that I'm sympathetic towards that pain." Sarcasm clear in her voice, she crouched down to examine a face coated thickly in dried blood. "At least some of these look like they were clean kills. One shot and done. Didn't stop it from making a fucking mess." Standing up with another grunt, shoes scuffed along the floor as she made her way over to the older detective.

"Stanson." Acknowledging him as he looked over a body, she took the time to glance over the tattoo clearly displayed. "Someone wanted us to know exactly what we were looking at." Exhaling a noise of slight irritation, she turned on her heel and skirted around to look at another body. "Shit ton of gunshot wounds and blood in this place, no evidence of the killer yet, I presume?" Grumbling a complaint to herself, she moved around a column and went to inspect another body. "Just like every other fuckin' time." Whoever this person was, he or she was quickly becoming a nuisance.
 
Stanson heard the voice and turned to see his partner come in; she was a good detective, but sometimes her short temperament could rub people the wrong way, himself included. Though with how much this killer was rampaging through their town, it wasn't any wonder. How many times had he been woken up at night to report to a crime scene just like this one. In the past few weeks, more than he ever had in his career in law enforcement.

"Carolina..." he would say after her comment about the shot in the junk. Hard to feel bad indeed, but they did have a job to do, and it was in their best interest to get it done as well as possible. Running a hand through his hair, he fought off the urge to light up a cigarette and continued to look around. "Nothing yet indeed. Aside from the fact that whoever's doing this prefers clean and efficient killing, we still can't even tell if it was just one person, or a team; I find it hard to believe one man can go on this kind of rampage for as long as he has. It has to be a group."

Putting a hand to his chin, he then said, "But why just gangbangers so far? It seems pretty personal...But if it's anything like the last scenes, we'll find a bunch of either .45 or 9mm casings, some footprints. Doesn't help every one of these happens to have no surveillance cameras either...Whoever this is, they're careful."
 
Turning her head to shoot her partner a glance, she shrugged her shoulders. "I can't say I'm terribly surprised, we've never found anything but a ghost of a hint before. It's clear that people are dead, but not much more than that." Her sour expression faded away as she looked more thoughtful than anything, tucking her hands into her jacket before speaking.

"It could be either. It depends what kind of background whoever it is has. If this is a personal vendetta, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for them to come in shooting at this many people. Or it could be a group of people getting revenge for lost loved ones. With how many deaths these assholes have caused, it fits well. It would make the scene cleaner, faster time to make sure no evidence is left behind." Looking around to confirm there were no cameras, she let out an undignified snort.

"It seems like they want us to know. To make sure we know it's the same person, or group, every time this happens. And I don't think it's going to stop anytime soon, not with the meticulous planning they've put into this."
 
"Yeah...And the fact that we have no idea means we can't even begin to fathom what that background might be. They, or he or she, are professionals, at least when it comes to this. We don't normally see this level of violence in women...But I think we've both been surprised in that respect before." And it was true; there was more than one female perpetrator that had shown an uncharacteristically violent side of their psyche.

When she pointed out that they wanted them to know, Stanson grimaced; she was right, this wasn't a sloppy clean-up. This was deliberate, whoever they wanted to get the message was getting it full frontal style. No filters, no bullshit. "Well, here's to only hoping the perp or perps can make a mistake. It's the smart criminals that give us a job, and a hard one at that." he would say; before long, another officer would return, "Detectives, the media vultures are here. Want me to tell them back off?"
 
"For all we know, it could be a previous member who decided they wanted out, and it's turned into full on warfare." Carolina shrugged again. "Could be a gun pro, could even be some type of special training. It's hard to tell just by gun skill alone. Anyone can learn to shoot, and to shoot well." There was such little evidence there was no way to know without a slip up, and so far there didn't seem to be even a hint of tactic change.

"Fan-fucking-tastic, that's just what we need." Scoffing at the mere mention of the media, her lips curled back in disgust. "I think you should very much tell them to fuck off. We don't need them even catching a glimpse of this, or it's going to be all over every news channel and every piece of social media that exists. We'll have them hounding us at every station for information, and it'll turn into a ridiculous spectacle."
 
**Parkland Motel, Room 255. May 23, 2004. Time: 8:07 AM Petroru, Kentucky**

Unfortunately, someone did catch wind of it, and over the next few days the mayor of the town was holding daily press conferences trying to ease people's worries. It seemed this 'lone vigilante' had been stirring up quite a hornet's nest with his latest stunt; though the days following the massacre had been rather quiet. Someone or a few people had always turned up dead, or shots rang out, but the quiet stretch was unnerving. And the news reporters, in all their infinite wisdom, decided to comment on the lack of violence, speculating the suspect had stopped their rampage.

This could not be further from the truth; in fact, he was getting ready for the biggest catch in this town. He sat reading the paper, watching another news channel covering the trial of a notorious businessman, one that had been caught in a pedophilia peddling and trafficking ring. He was a big shot here, someone that basically kept the majority of the people employed; and of course, as all trials went, there was likely a plea deal.

His fingers crumpled the edge of the paper, the headline reading "LOCAL REAL ESTATE TYCOON ACCUSED OF CHILD PORNOGRAPHY DISTRIBUTION AND PRODUCTION, CLOSING ARGUMENTS TODAY!" And from his own digging, as much as he could find without arousing suspicion, that the man was guilty beyond doubt. He used his own set of skills to find and infiltrate the man's property, finding a porn stash of underage girls...And girl's underwear. That to him was irrefutable, unequivocable evidence of wrongdoing, and if the courts failed, then he would correct it.

Giving a snort of anger, he went over to his bed and started to aggressively clean of one of his most prized possessions: A Remington 700 bolt-action rifle mounted with a 3x9 hunting scope. He wanted this shot to matter, to be as accurate as possible. From the bolt assembly to the bore and breech, he made sure it was clean and spotless like the rest of his weapons.
 
"What the FUCK is he doing?!" Screeching out the words in disbelief, ceramic shattered as a vase hit the wall, dust floating through the air as the pieces clattered on the floor. The sound of hurried footsteps came thudding down the hall, the door whipping open as a head of white hair poked in. Eris turned toward her brother, seeing bright blue eyes looking in disapproval.

"Why are you in here breaking a centuries old vase, sister?" Baring her teeth at him, she spun her hand wildly in the air, conjuring up the image in a mere instant.

"Almost nothing for days, just boring shit! He's reading the damn paper now! Where is my chaos, where is my death?!" Looking at her with an exasperated expression, Thanatos rubbed harshly at his face. While he was long since used to his sister's tantrums, especially the other sisters, it never ceased to annoy him. Seeing the look on his face, Eris waved away the murky images and growled low. "Don't you start on your self righteous tangent about how death should be natural, peaceful. That is not my way! Get out of my room!" When the god simply stood there, she reached threateningly for another vase.

Hands up in surrender, Thanatos swiftly left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The moment she heard his footsteps fading away, she whipped the vision open and stared. Her lips curved into a devious smile at the sight of the weapon, her hand paused in the air. Cleaning, prepping, he was preparing for another mission, and she planned to watch the entire thing in absolute delight.
 
The man in the hotel room had no idea of course, that he had caught someone's interest, or even that he was being watched at all. He had been extremely careful, using the alias "John Smith" in this seedier hotel to make his current living arrangements. Nothing he wasn't used to; he never stayed anywhere too long, and after this? He was gone, off to the next state. Off to build a new dossier, a new list of targets.

This fat fuck on the other hand...This would finish his business in Kentucky. They would see neither hide nor hair of him after today. After finishing cleaning his equipment, he packed everything up in discrete suitcase; and with it being Kentucky, it wasn't uncommon to see people with rifle cases in their vehicles. In fact it was more unusual to not be seen with one, at least in these parts.

Once he'd made a double check of everything in his inventory, he would then proceed to check out of the motel then load up his car with his belongings, a 2004 Jeep Liberty that already had a fair bit of use on it, but aside from a few patches of missing paint it was still clean and well-serviced. The duffle bag was in first, then came the suitcase of clothes for a week, then lastly for accessibility came the rifle case with his weapon of choice. Pulling out of the parking lot.

=========================================================================================================================

The Central County Courthouse was in a less-developed portion of the town, plenty of buildings stood half-completed; this was where the vigilante's other efforts had been focused. Whether guilty or innocent, the person on trial would be escorted down the steps of the courthouse, almost like a walk of shame. Because of this, he had spent the past few days; whereas his creeper might have thought him just meandering about, this was in fact part of his research. His reconnaissance, and he had a battle plan ready for this very moment.

He would drive past the courthouse and drive down a fair ways, pulling down a side street about three blocks down. He would then pull into an alley backside first, the immediate surroundings just half-finished housing projects, ironically part of the same man on trial's own development firm. He'd sunk a couple of million into trying to make this area of town upscale, tearing down older buildings and trying to renovate them. Something that after today, no matter what the verdict would find, would not see completion.

His booted feet carried him onward, very much mission-oriented as he half-walked/half-strode towards the target building. It was a third floor corner unit, on the opposite side of the steps to where his position would be better concealed. And with the orientation of the buildings, unless someone happened to be looking at his window, well...They'd have to be good to guess where the bullet was fired from.

Regardless, he reached a fire escape; testing it, he found it still solid. Good, made things easier; thanks to the trial, all work was put on hold, so there was likely no-one here. Climbing up the steps and rungs, he would reach his area; he then took things one step further and actually slid off his boots before going inside through the window. The room was stark, tarps covered everything from the floor to the ceiling. His stalker would see just how precise his movements were, leaving no trace of his presence behind.

Taking his rifle case, he would then unlatch it and start to assemble his rifle. It would take only a few moments to install the flash hider and mount the scope, meanwhile, the commotion was starting below: The accused, one Phillip Phalton, real estate tycoon extraordinaire, would emerge from the courthouse.

==========================================================================================================================

"Yes, we've just received word from our correspondents in the court room! Phillip Phalton, the real estate mogul that's been buying up property left and right in downtown Petroru, has just been found cleared of all charges!"

"Yes, that's right, Phillip Phalton, innocent of 20 counts of child pornography possession and 10 counts of sexual misconduct with a minor!"

These were some of the sounds among both shouts of support and disdain for the portly man of 5'9" of height, his long silver hair neatly done up in a long mane, that grey suit he was famous for hiding the bulge of his belly, a white undershirt showing a crimson necktie. He was a pinnacle of opulence, a fur cloak over his thick shoulders as the polished Bally's on his feet carried him in an air of smug confidence.

And naturally, one of his stature would want to celebrate overcoming such odds...Unaware that a hunter was in the midst, and that its sights were set on him.

"Good people of Petroru, let me just congratulate the jury on serving true justice! I know many people don't like my style, but I believe children are our future! To suggest I would do something so openly horrendous as exploit them should be criminal in itself! I'm trying to build a better tomorrow for them, and their families! What integrity would I have if I was even remotely guilty of such heinous atrocities?!" Philip would say, hands held up high as the unknown assailant zeroed in, making the last final adjustments on his sight.

A metallic clink within the apartment, the eyes of a predator focused through the scope, a round of metallic destruction loaded into a tool of war...The cold resolve of a trained killer moments away from unleashing every bit of retribution...Slow calming breaths, rhythmic practice squeezes of the trigger as his heartbeat became prominent to him and him alone. This was his life: Him and his gun...And a dead crook on the receiving end of a hot lead injection.
 
"Sisters! You are going to love this!" Slamming open a door down the hall, she watched three identical heads of dark hair whip up. Red eyes stared in curiosity, looking between themselves before back to Eris. "I don't know why you look so curious, you can guess what this is about. Cold, calculated, bloody murder." Within seconds the triplets were grinning from ear to ear, a slew of excited Greek sentences leaving their mouths.

"Is this the mortal Thanatos disapproves of you watching?"

"The one causing all the murders?"

"Oh, shut up you two, of course it's that one, Eris hasn't shut up about it in days!"

Not the least bit offended by the banter between her sisters, she waved a hand and showed them the weapons being packed up, the departure from the hotel as the vehicle was loaded up. Hushed murmurs filled the room as the tripled pondered among themselves, snickering and making bets as to the number of casualties this time. A heavy sigh sounded from the doorway, their white haired brother standing with his arms crossed over a broad chest.

"Must we do this? Must I be the only sane one here besides our mother?" The snickering increased, quickly turning into full blown laughter as Eris fixed him with an amused look.

"Oh, right. Our mother, the goddess of night. As if she cares what havoc we wreak, we are a family of darkness and death itself. Take your empathy for humankind elsewhere, brother, I have work to do." The Ker chattered on from their respective chairs, heaving themselves up to follow Eris as she departed. "Come, sisters, let us watch this monstrosity unfold."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you think the verdict will be, do you think they'll go with guilty and finally throw his rotten ass in jail?"

"Oh, please, men like him never go to jail, even for things like this."

The two women chattered on outside of the courthouse, each holding a microphone in preparation for his emergence. The cameraman grunted from behind them, the large device hefted onto his shoulder as he prepared to start filming. "Will you two just shut up? You can talk all you want once we get this camera rolling." They turned to glare at him, middle fingers held up in unison before their attention turned elsewhere.

"I fucking told you!" Scoffing in disgust, the red headed women threw her hands up as as the verdict hit, listening to the clicks as their cameraman readied himself. "Let's just try and get up there so we can get at least one question in!" Bodies swarmed around them, each media outlet and its workers eager to get the first spot to shove microphones and camera into the midst of the drama. Shoulders slammed against bodies, elbows jabbed into sides as the numerous people fought for their place to the front of the crowd. A chorus of curses, the sound of breaking plastic and metal as cameras were sent crashing to the ground.

"What about the allegations that you were found with both child pornography and what appeared to be children's clothing?"

"How much did you pay out to the victims for their silence, to recant the accusations?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's going to die." Laughing in pure delight, one of the Ker stood at her sister's side, a head resting on her shoulder as she let out a low growl to follow. "He's going to fucking die, and I want to see it." Rolling her eyes, Eris stood comfortably and watched the images flickering. The frenzy of the media, people nearly trampling one another as they swarmed and screamed, fought and cursed.

"That's the plan, dear sister. I knew my little murderer wouldn't let me down. He's come too far to simply disappear into the abyss." Curiosity sufficiently piqued after the string of murders, Eris now had a face to associate with it, a memory to keep. "This is the chaos that I revel in, watching the humans fight amongst themselves over little things. To be the first to write an article that will span the country in just a matter of hours. Now, to the good part." Snapping her fingers, the shouting faded out, replaced by the view of a room completely encased by tarp.

"Thorough. Very well trained." Nodding her head in satisfaction, she made a series of movements with her hands until she had zoomed in specifically on him. "It's only going to take one shot. One moment, and there will be blood all over the idiots that stood too close."
 
The vigilante watched the spectacle unfold, his field of view becoming more crowded as the media hounds gathered around Phillip like a fresh piece of meat. And even with security's best effort, they were having trouble holding people back from getting too close. It was chaos, the same kind that nourished his unknown stalker, and it was only going to grow more with what he was about to do.

"Stand down!"

"Get back or that camera will be confiscated!"

And besides, just media outlets, concerned citizens also were among those in the crowds, looking for answers to one of the most talked-about cases to date. Meanwhile, Phillip flashed them that classic coyote smile, even as they might question.

The unseen sniper, meanwhile, sat waiting. Eyes fixed downrange, the scope letting him see the smug satisfaction on the fatass' face. Waiting for an opportunity, a clean shot...Seconds passed, his breathing falling into that steady iron rhythm. His exhales timed with every pause between heartbeats, the focus reaching insane levels as he readied for that one and only shot.

1..

2..

1..

2..

"I paid no one to recant anything, and the evidence they did have on me was questionable at best and false at worst; I have maintained my innocence throughout this trial, and will continue to do so. I'm holding this little meeting so that you all can rest assured your children are safe. In fact, I'm even willing to offer up a substantial reward for anyone who has information about the people I was accused of, so that the victim's family can have some clos---"

BANG!

Immediately all hell broke loose, Phillip starting to bleed down his forehead and nose as he slumped to the ground, a neat dime-sized hole right between his eyes as the people might run screaming for cover. Now the security detail had another issue: Finding out what the hell happened, screaming out to form a perimeter and look for where the shooter was.

Meanwhile, the assailant that had been under Eris' watch was quick to work: His scope taken down even as the barrel steamed a small bit, the flash hider removed, and that single spent cartridge tucked into a pants pocket before the rifle was loaded back into the suitcase. In under 3 minutes, he was back in his boots and down the fire escape, making absolutely sure he left nothing behind. His gloves would ensure that he left no DNA to track, his long sleeves and hood leaving nothing they could use.

His brisk pace did not indicate any sort of stress; in fact, he was trying hard to hide a grin. Now...This was one safer city. Every criminal element he could find had been dealt with, every scumbag needing to be put down was put down. Now....He could leave. His trunk unlocked, the rifle case secured via a cable, and soon enough he was off on the road. Being absolutely sure to go the speed limit, maybe even a little slower down the roads; there was no need to rush after all. He wasn't staying; and by the time they would even think to look where he had been, he would be halfway to his next destination:

Cedar City, Utah.
 
"The bloody malaka did it!" Screaming so loudly that Eris swore she would go deaf, she shoved her sister away with a hiss of protest. "You were right, Eris! One shot and down for the count--Wait, that's it?" The screams of joy turned into groans of protest, limbs flailing about as she stalked across the room. "You got my hopes up for nothing, Eris! You said he killed eleven the other time, what is this bullshit?!" Ignoring the steaming goddess as she left the room, she heard the pitter patter of feet as the other two departed. Things had turned out well, and she was pleased. The next step she needed to plan more carefully, a hand waving away the smoke clinging to the air as she sighed.

How did a goddess approach a mortal about murder? Bluntly, of course.

"Mother. I need some of your clothing, my mortal ones are covered in filth." Knocking on a door gently, she entered at the slight incline of a head. The woman sat bent over a desk, scribbling furiously at a paper. "Where do you keep--"

"Why?" Eris froze just inside the doorway as her mother stopped writing, setting the pen down quietly. Joints cracked as the older woman turned around in her seat to stare, expression blank as she only observed. "Why do you suddenly care about blending in? You could change your clothes with a snap of your fingers, why do you need mine?"

"..Because I need something I know is current. Are you going to tell me where they are, or just be a bitch?" With a scoff, Nyx gestured towards the large closet across the room, returning to her writing as Eris slunk by and into the closet. "Why do you have so many clothes?!" The scratching of the pen never once ceased, silence in the air as Eris sifted through clothes. Opting for comfort over fashion, she plucked a short black dress from the rack.

"Do you look like a slut in this?" The scratching immediately ceased.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Coming out of the closet, Eris held up the strappy black dress. With a dipping neckline that insinuated it would show a good amount of cleavage, she held it against the front of her body. "Do you look like a slut in this? Will I look like a slut in this? I like to make an impression." Giving an exasperated sigh as her daughter began to strip on the spot, Nyx rubbed her face.

"Just take it and the heels by the door and get out of my room before I throw you out by that beautiful hair of yours." Despite the irritation in her voice, Eris could see the amusement dancing in her mother's eyes. "Have fun, even though I know your brother keeps telling you to behave." Situating the dress into place, Eris spun around to inspect it.

"Oh, this is nice. It'll be perfect for what I intend to do. What better way to make an impression on such a perfect specimen?" The dress barely reached mid thigh, clinging to her curves and indeed showing off the cleavage she thought it would. With a gleeful noise as she snatched up the black heels from the doorway, she blew a kiss towards her mother and left the room. "I'll tell you all about it later!"
 
============================================
**On I-70 to North Platte, Nebraska**

Shawn drove and drove, stopping only for gas, food or bathroom breaks. This was going to be a long drive, one he knew he couldn't do in a single day. And honestly? Just being out here, able to do this, see the country he was once fighting overseas to defend and now fighting here? It brought an odd feeling of serenity to him. From time to time, he would change out CDs, listening to Metallica one bit of the trip, then Black Sabbath the next, then Lamb of God the other.

He found a kind of kinship with the different people; granted, he was only ever in town for the day, and while he would definitely want to see if things were quiet...He had other targets on his mind. And there was one in particular he was after, but he needed to go to Cedar City before the 26th.

This trip alone would take him about fifteen hours with all stops included, meaning he would get in North Platte just shy of midnight, eleven at night if he took the time zone differential into account. And that was fine by him; he knew an inn there that was cheap and didn't ask questions. And the crime rate there was low; fitting considering he'd hit Omaha a year ago before skipping town.

Switching the CD again to Iron Maiden, he then queued up the song "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and just laughed as the song began to play. Continuing on his way to his first rest stop.
==============================================
**Blue Spruce Motel. North Platte, Nebraska. Time: 10:57PM.**

Pulling into the Blue Spruce motel, he would then check in for a night. Thirty-five whole dollars; thankfully, his robbing of criminals left him more than able to afford that kind of fare. Paying in cash, he was unpacked soon enough, having just taken the suitcase with clothes and duffle bag of firearms into his room, his car just outside his door. He could sleep a solid six or seven hours, hopefully, be on the road before eight at the latest. Luckily, he was going back the other way, the hour earlier and earlier the further west he went.

He flopped back on the bed, giving a small grunt when he felt how hard the mattress was. This place was cheap for a reason...But it served its need; besides, he'd slept in a homeless camp before on the ground. This was paradise compared to that.

Of course, nothing could prepare him for what was about to happen this night...Or who might visit him.
 
"You've been prancing around for hours, sister. We are starting to grow tired of listening to those obnoxious heels clicking along the floors. Can't you go somewhere else?" One of the Ker gave her an exasperated look, stopping Eris dead in her tracks with a scoff. "Don't give me that look, you have. Why haven't you simply followed him, rather than wind yourself up like this? Even mother is likely to scream at you to shut up soon."

"I don't want to pop into a moving car and risk causing an accident. I can't talk to him if he's dead, you imbecile!" Keres rolled her eyes despite understanding the concept, waving Eris away with a grunt. More than happy to continue flitting around the large house with a happy hum. Mentally preparing herself for the visit she was about to make, she smoothed back her nearly black hair, watching the waves bounce around her waist as she situated the dress. Not that it mattered if more skin was showing, why did she care?

"I'll see you all later!"

"Get the fuck out of here already, before I kick you all the way down the Earth!"

Chuckling at the hint of venom in her sister's voice, Eris gladly brought up the murky shadows and peered in. He had finally stopped moving, the car parked outside a small, run down building. It seemed like a rather filthy place to go, but could be overlooked for the purpose of her visit. The question was, how much did she want to startle him on their first meeting? Would he put a gun in her face the moment he saw her? The thought was almost exciting, her hand clenching before expanding at the same time as the images.

Arm stretching through the ripples, she fixated on the smoky mist surrounding her flesh, enveloping her as the rest of her body went through. It swirled and settled as her ass hit a hard mattress, a grunt of displeasure sounding at the feel of it. Now she understood why the humans only used these places if it was necessary, or for quick, cheap sex. Crossing one leg over the other, she braced herself on one elbow and grinned down at him.

"Well hello, killer."
 
Shawn rested on the bed, hands on the back of his head as he slowly wound down, touching at the M9 handgun under his pillow. It was condition 3, fully loaded but nothing in the chamber, and happened to be pointing upwards against the headrest so that he wouldn't feel it under the crappy pillows they used here.

And soon enough, his preparation work would be put to the test. Little did he know that he would meet someone few could ever claim to have met, and those encounters were only in folkore and fantasy epics of the past. He did not notice the silent arm reaching through the aether, the black mist soundlessly taking on form. Though a slight thump on his mattress roused him from his half-slumber, and the words made him jolt awake.

In what seemed like an insane reaction time (for a human, at least), he was out of bed and the pistol immediately cocked, aimed directly at her rather exposed chest. Were he the more sensual type, he would taken notice at how unnaturally beautiful he was; sadly, his mind was more focused on survival.

"Who are you? How the fuck did you get in here?" he half-shouted, keeping the gun trained firmly on her.
 
Watching the human's eyes shoot open as a bit of alarm came off his person, she watched in amusement the quick motions of his defense. It only reinforced the opinion she'd formed of him thus far, and her eyebrows slowly raised in amusement. He was quick, efficient even when half unconscious. Looking far more like she belonged sprawled across a magazine page, she made no move to shift from her position when she spoke.

"Well, you really are just as fast in person." Uncrossing her leg slowly, she seemed in no hurry as she stood from the bed with a laugh of pure delight. "Who am I?" Taking a step fearlessly towards him, she circled slowly around with a purr to her words. "Discord. Chaos. Strife. You may pick any you please, as you mortals have changed it so often over the millennia." She stopped in her walk, a hand tucked behind her back and the other going to her abdomen as she gave a mock bow.

"Eris, goddess of Chaos. I've been watching you, and I am very pleased with what I've seen. In fact, I'd like to see a lot, lot more of your work."
 
Shawn never let the gun falter as he kept its business end trained on this unknown woman; who the fuck was she? His eyes and his hands tracked her, the muzzle staying perfectly aligned with where her heart was (if she even had one). His eyes, cold as ice and shining with unwavering resolve, seemed unamused.

"Eris...Goddess of Chaos."

He repeated it, though the lack of amusement in his tone showed he didn't believe her in the slightest. "Nice codename; didn't realize Uncle Sam let operatives get so creative with monikers. And by watching me, let me guess, your magic crystal ball? We used that once too, referred to our little networks of spy cameras all over Fallujah. So drop the act...Which are you? FBI? CIA? CT unit? No way you're BAU; those morons couldn't sneak around an empty hallway."

Oh boy, a doubter. But then again, who would honestly believe a central antagonist of Greek mythos was watching them, let alone actually expressing interest in them?
 
He didn't believe her, and Eris didn't blame him one bit. It wasn't every day that a deity walked the Earth in their true form, let alone so easily identified themselves. When he began ranting on with different terms she was unsure of, she straightened out and pouted at him.

"Well, you're not a gentleman. Pointing a gun at a lady who just got in your bed. On it, whatever. Technicalities." He seemed so certain she was a spy, and even though she'd been spying on him, that was a bit different.

"I'm not a witch, I don't have a crystal ball, nor do I remember what any of those things you named are. Did you hear a door? No, because I didn't use it. Would you like to see what you look like when you kill?" She raised a hand, holding it in the air curiously. "Because I'm more than happy to watch it again and again."
 
"You're a looker I'll give you that, but you also picked the wrong room to drop in on." Shawn said, not bothering to even think of lowering the weapon. And when she raised a hand, asking that weird cryptic ass question, it made him only more certain that she was spying on him.

Even so...She was being awful shit at the whole secret agent thing; no agent he knew would openly admit they were watching on them while it was like this. They'd wait until they had an advantage, or more of one in this instance. Even so, she lost it when she allowed him to draw his pistol on her.

"For someone who doesn't have a crystal ball, you seem awfully knowledgeable of me. Tell you what: You get the fuck out of my room, and I promise not to put one between your eyes. I just drove 15 hours across a time zone to get here; I really don't want to do that again. So take your crap act and get out. You never saw me, I never saw you. Deal?" he then said; granted it was dangerous to let her go, but something was holding him back from just trying to kill her. It wasn't fear...It was more, curiosity. Genuine curiosity, but unfortunately his instincts of self-preservation were overriding any entertainment of otherwise fantastical elements.
 
"Oh, you like the way I look? I thought the outfit would get your attention." Giving him a sultry smile, her hand remained in the air as she listened intently. "So cynical, it's almost adorable." Cooing at him, she twirled a finger slowly in the air. "Oh, I'm not leaving just yet, killer. You got me far too curious to leave now that I walked the shadows to find you. Or rather," She twirled her finger again. "Slipped through them and straight into your room. A gift from my mother, no doubt." Being the daughter of night itself had its advantages.

"I've seen you far more than you've seen me, and I don't intend to stop. You bring chaos, which is my domain. Violent death, my sisters'." If he thought the tough guy act and the gun was going to frighten her, he was about to be very surprised. "Now, shall I show you the warehouse first, or the one in broad daylight? Don't answer that, the warehouse one is what really caught my attention." Her hand picked up the circular motion of her finger, drawing in the darkness as it twisted the fabric of reality momentarily. "So violent." Sifting through the different images with a look of complete concentration, she abruptly stopped the motion and snapped her fingers. The murkiness lasted only a fraction of a second, clearing up quickly to the sounds of shouting and gunshots.

"You think this changes anything? Once the rest of them hear of this, you're dead. The Lords will find you, and you'll get yours."

"
I think seeing him die was my favorite part of that bit, although the confusion of the aftermath was quite amusing as well." Waving her hand through the scene, it dissipated and her hand fell away. "Still think I'm a spy?"
 
"Wrong choice, bitch." he said, his arms and shoulders moving just enough to raise the gun a bit more, himself moments away from firing; however, her mentioning of slipping through shadows made him stop. What the absolute fuck was she on about?

Or rather...What was she on? Because she was clearly a nutcase. Or so he would think. Evidenced when she brought up his two most recent murders. And he actually seemed to lower the gun as she brought up a murky orb, the vision hazy at first, but then came that night. Replayed in perfect detail, down to even the last words that thug spoke to him...And the reply he said back.

"Maybe not right away...But at least this little reunion is over. If there is a hell, let me know...And tell Satan this when you get there: He's next on my list."

He was utterly stupefied, the experience so shocking the gun actually fell from his hand; just who the fuck was this crazy chick? For the first time in a very long time, he felt an emotion he'd thought quashed: Fear.

"What the hell are you...." he breathed.
 
The word he chose to describe her didn't offend her in the slightest, and the look of complete and utter surprise on his face was well worth her little show. The gun thudding against the ground was just the icing on the cake, and she snickered at him. It always came down to a mention of Hell with these mortals, like deities were demons or something.

"Always with the Hell." Stepping forward, she leaned down and picked up the gun, turning it about in her hand to inspect it. "And you thought to kill me with this?" She couldn't quite remember how guns worked, so despite wanting to dismantle the entire thing just to add salt to the wound, she chose an easier route instead. "It's a good thing you have more." Flattening her palm with the weapon still in hand, she dipped her head down and blew gently on it.

"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes." Watching the black that crept slowly and then snaked around the entirety of the gun, she blew on it again as she metal began to soften and crumble under the gentle pressure. "We have been destroying weapons for millennia. In fact, I could even fashion you a better one than this, although it wouldn't be a gun. Swords aren't commonplace, but I suppose a dagger might suffice." Closing her fist as the remainder of the gun deteriorated, she tilted her hand and let the dust seep through her fingers. Dusting her hands off, she gave him a bright smile as though nothing had happened.

"As I said, Eris, goddess of Chaos. It's nice to finally meet you."
 
Her words barely registered, his back pressing against the wall next to his bed. He just watched her, backing up as much as possible as she got closer. And closer. Her taunt about him thinking to kill her with that weapon hardly registered. Though his eyes seemed to widen even more as she blew on it, the gun seeming to shift and sway, before long dust was coming off it. Like her...whatever she had...was literally corroding it. Wasting it away to nothing.

And then, when her fist closed and she let the literal gun powder fall through her hands, her taking the time to daintily dust off her palms and fingers, Shawn was frozen. Stupefied with fear and confusion; this couldn't be real. And she would see him actually pinch himself, the sharp pain registering. He wasn't dreaming...This was happening.

God or not, this was fucking terrifying. She just blew on a gun and made it crumble like a shitty brick.

"...Fine...You're Eris, goddess of discord..." he then said; even if he didn't still fully believe, there was clearly more to her than just a pretty dress. "What...what do you want with me?" he then asked, still wanting to very much keep his distance.
 
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