Cronin O'Connell
[Location: The Ons/ Specifics: The Alley out back/ Status: Here mousy mousy mousy...]
It was too surreal at first. For quite a few blocks now, a certain skulking eccentric had been stalking a rather lovely female in a mini-skirt and heels. Though she was brunette, she could have easily passed that body off for a blonde. More sickeningly was that the O'Connell hadn't been able to truly creep up on the femme. Not until now. She was standing in the light beside the door and staring at him no less. Deer caught in the head lights? This was usually the part where that dangerous Potence started leaking out, drawing the female into him. Despite the raw fear and unnatural presence of a vampire as twisted as himself, usually they walked right into his arms. Lost there heads. Whatever he felt like doing really. This instance was surreal in the way she merely waited. The Irishmen re-called something about waiting like a frog for fly. Unfeasible. Unlikely? Within an instant the six foot finely dressed vampire would have rushed forward as not but a blur. Quicker then eyes could keep up with that bomb shell brunette would brace and snap the back of her fist directly into nose level.
THWAP~
Cronin glared down at the female with utter contempt as he held her fist in grasp. She was fast. Strong. Trained... A slayer... Even as the vampire allowed that shark toothed grin to blossom between them-
DACK!~
The resonance from her blows was astounding. Cronin couldn't re-call the last time he'd been rocked. Much less caused true pain or concussive damage. His perception rolled from the high left round house that came out of left field. Body would twist, knees threatened to buckle. Within an instant the vampire was on his knees before he caught a vicious body kick. The strength offered would send him rolling out over the expanse of the alley's cobble stone surface. No more then eight feet away, the blood sucker would pop back up. Despite getting his a** handed to him, there was still a twisted indignity to the way he glared at this slayer. A utter lack of fear in the face of his own natural predator. This was that confidence. That knowledge. The two would converge on each other, meeting and exchanging blows of blocks and carefully timed dodges. Within the flurry the female managed to pluck a steak from her bosom. Further into the clash and various attempts to ram fingers like spikes through her body, the slayer would ultimately swipe a blow away. An opening was created, and within that opening the Steak was plunged with all the trained mortals might into what would be the vampire's heart. Clear skill and training was poured into this moment where the vampire dusts before the hunter's eyes.
CRRRKK!
"Too bad..."
His voice wrapped her throat like a snake and sent chills down her ears and spine with the tone used.
SHHHRRRRKK!
Cronin would have leaned forward even as the steak crushed and shattered against his chest. The vampire's already jagged blade like teeth would lengthen and grow. Jaw would stretch further open, both jaw line of teeth stretching and extending the reach of the bite itself. This was done as the Slayer's bewilderment caught hold in the fact that the weapon didn't work. It took place right before Cronin tore a large chunk of the Slayer's throat out with a chomp and a rolling back ward tug of his head. At the very breath of blood against air the beast rose up within the mind of the vampire. Right arm would slither around the female and crush her to his chest. Not a single inch was allowed against her squirming. Meanwhile his free hand would slip a iron clamp over her mouth and nose with a single palm. All the while the chunk torn from her throat was already swallowed, blood gushing out in large torrents over those waiting gums and tongue. Not soon enough those fangs would sink back into the wound so Cronin might drain heavily on his victim. That gleam in his eyes earlier was the knowledge that even a slayer stood next no chance when it came to the actual task of dusting this creature. If fire was just a nuisance, and the sun couldn't do it... If other vampires had trouble running steaks through him... then by no means was a little girl going to get away with it. Even now said female was slowly growing more and more pale in her death grasp. When she finally stopped squirming the Blood sucker would crouch down ever so slightly and fling the near corpse over his shoulder. With the brunette in grasp and on the brink of death, Cronin would take his exit from the blood drenched scene. A young lady can't get her throat torn out and not leave a mess...
One could safely assume that the slayer would awaken the next morning. With a will not of her own, and eyes that saw better in the dark. As for the source of the infection? A certain Irish blood sucker would be taking up residence in the city. To what ends, and for what purpose one could only assume. All the same, legion is forever growing, such is the nature of legion...