Nightstalk

[Seraphim]

Tom paused at the end of the ladder, his breath long and slow. The sewer wound away below him, back to the Wharf. Back home, of course. Shrugging, he drew his silver switchblade and began jabbing it between the tarmac and the seal of the maintenance hatch. Anyone outside would see a flash of silver, but who would be around at this hour? It was well past midnight, and only the vampires were out now. They would hardly be here – there were too few of them, considering the size of New Pork.

Tom closed his switchblade, paused, and pushed on the hatch. I fell to one side with a loud clatter. Tom twitched and disappeared back down the hatch. Silence. He replaced his switchblade in his pocket and withdrew a tiny led-light. He shone it out of the hole – no faces peering in. He clambered up the ladder and hauled himself through the hole.

He squatted in the middle of the road for a few moment, getting his bearings and adjusting his breathing to the cool night air. He wasn’t used to fresh air – too much time spent in the sewers, he supposed. Talking about sewers – why was he here, anyway? Boredom, more than anything, and a desire to see the night sky. Naturally, the sky didn’t oblige. It was overcast, huge grey clouds playing chase across the moon. Lightweight leviathans.

[Jade]

Freak turned around quickly in her shadowy alley. Her hand found one of her knives in an instant. She inhaled- there was no scent. The sound was not trouble and she would not kill. Freak breathed out- not even trying to cover the sound. Her knife slipped away, just as she slipped out of the alley.

It was a Sewer Rat. A boy-rat. He had an odor- like all the Wharf Rat's, but Freak did focus on that. Maybe It was a new Rat. Maybe It didn't know who she was. She growled to herself, her eyes unfocused, but in the general direction of the boy.

[Seraphim]

Tom blinked, his eyes already adjusted to the dimness of the evening. His head swiveled and he rose into a ready fighting stance, sure he’d heard something. What, though made the noise of – breathing? Had he heard breathing and the click of a switchblade? He turned slowly, his pale blond hair hanging down his back in a grimy ponytail and his blue eyes focusing on the deepest shadows of the alleyways around him. He could be imagining it, as months in the sewers heightened your senses to a point where you overacted to any sound, but it could be a very real threat. A Vampire, or a Wildcat, maybe.

This was just great – it wasn’t like Boyscout needed something to jump him right now, although his paintball gun was an advantage over many weapons that either Vampires or Wildcats carried. The only person he knew of with a similar ranged weapon was Impulse, the beta of the Cigarettes, and her airgun. But then, how likely would it be for a Cigarette patrol to be out here, so close to the vampire/wharf rat border?

[Jade]

" I'd think a Rat would see in the dark." Freak said lightly. This was stupid- he would not talk to her- that was what one side of her conscience said. The other part was muttering about the possibilities of him staying to talk. She was somewhat alarmed, rarely did her two consciences agree.

All the same she watched the boy, breathing heavily. Not because she was scared- no. Just because she wasn't out of the shadows and she didn't want him to start wondering exactly where she was. Voices tended to bounce in the hallow old streets. Her eyes gleamed- they where grey, to naturally suit the rest of herself- and she raised a hand to tug at a ribbon. This ribbon was black. Maybe the ribbons where warning her.

[Seraphim]

“You know,” Tom replied as he drew his paintball gun and methodically began to load it, “You’d think that you’d get used to ‘rat’ jokes eventually. Doesn’t work that way.” He shut the cap on his gun and ran his fingers over the slick black surface before pocketing the weapon again. He didn’t know for sure that the unseen figure was a threat – it was almost certain, but expecting the unexpected made sure that the only surprises were those you were ready for.

Tom was Dutch – he’d heard so many ‘dy.ke’ jokes it just wasn’t sane – but he still hadn’t quite mastered the skill of ignoring stupid insults like that. It might have been the German blood in him, Jean would have said, but Tom wasn’t so sure – he thought it was just the nerve of people, saying stupid things like that.

[Jade]

"You know, you’d think that you’d get used to name-calling eventually. Doesn’t work that way." Freak said dryly- it was something she did, taking another's words and using them for her own situation. She itched towards the light- to the point where the boy could see only her cloths. Ususally just her cloths where able to name her. Guns where nice, but she didn't have many. She only had her knives. If he was going to attack, her black ribbon had been correct- there would be death.

No, maybe not death. If she killed a Rat for no reason, then no other Rat's would come to her. Usually when she killed in cold-blood, Tribes would still come. They blamed the buyer, not the killer. But if there was no buyer, she would not be safe.

[Seraphim]

But I didn’t call you names, Tom thought, his eyes focusing on the faint movement in the shadows – he knew those colors. Had chased them across the roofs a few times, too. Who did they belong to again? Black and white; white, black and grey. He snapped his fingers – he knew that getup. The figure was the mercenary, what’s-her-name. Had the Wharf Rats ever used her callcard? He couldn’t remember any of them calling her Freak, but the his memory died when it came to things like that.

“True.” Boyscout replied, his voice diplomatic.

[Jade]

Her mouth twitched and she giggled. Now she was fully in the light, watching the boy twitch and search for answers.

" So- why'd you stop loading your weapon? Have you decided I'm no threat?" She smiled manically- he was being diplomatic. Smart but no use for a conversation. Her smile stayed, but her eyes narrowed and she rested her head on a large piece of rumble. She looked lax and comfortable- it was necessary to do so in front of most others, but she was getting uncomfortable, like someone was sneaking up behind her.

[Seraphim]

“I know you’re a threat,” Tom said, his hands in his pockets. His right hand tightened around the handle of his gun, ready to whip it out and deliver a hail of paint – painful, if aimed correctly, and deadly in his skilled hands. “And my gun only takes four bullets at a time,” he added, watching her with startling eyes. She was a strange one, Katrine Minosa – the ‘freak’ as her callcard apparently labeled her. The black, grey and white of her costume was almost so crazy that it no longer served as the camouflage that Tom supposed it was meant to be.

She looked comfortable, but Tom had been studying people for months – he could read most expressions well enough, and somehow there wasn’t just madness playing havoc in the shadowy places of the girl’s mind. As it was, Tom’s grip on his gun was white-knuckled by now, the leather wrapped around the handle leaving a rough texture imprinted on his palms.