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Maximillion Mardrate was in a particuarly foul mood. Part of this was because things were behind schedule, and he hated delays. Part of it was because he'd lost Mr. Sharp. It had happened a few nights ago, when Max had trapped a female target. He'd expected an easy kill, but apparently he had received bad intelligence. The girl had been a superb gunman, and she had taken Mr. Sharp out with a direct, pinpoint shot to the skull. Within seconds. Sure, she was fast, but who cared? The point was that she'd seen an odd-looking old man and she'd shot him in the head without a moment of hesitation. She had known Maximillion was coming, somehow. She wouldn't be a problem anymore, of course. Fast as she had been, she was nothing next to Max. He had buried a dagger in the back of her pretty head less than a second after she pulled the trigger and made the shot that ended Mr. Sharp's second life. Max glanced to his right at the thought, and she looked back at him blankly. The back of her head was a mess of dried blood , but he had hidden it with her hair. From the front she looked perfectly normal, if a bit pale. She was still pretty. But she stirred nothing in Max, and wouldn't have even if she had still been alive. He'd lost that.

He'd named the girl Daisy, and she came and left at command. Her skill with gunmanship had been greatly diminished by undeath, though she still was capable of aiming a gun and pulling the trigger- something Mr. Sharp wouldn't have been able to do if his existence had depended on it. He'd given Daisy a pair of shades to wear, and had dressed her in black. It was cliche, but he quickly found that the psychological effects were surprisingly deep. A man in a suit with shades conjured images of secret agents and shadow governments, and loonies were quick to jump to conclusions. Having a girl at his side in the same attire was amplified that effect tenfold. Max had the Wachowski brothers to thank for making chicks in black so ominous.

These kids were just a pair of young idiots. Slum idiots, to boot. They probably had better odds if they joined a gang that would protect them... but if they did that, they were bound to get knocked off sooner or later. It was just a matter of time. They'd thought Max was an agent of the Brotherhood of the Black Scorpion, and had agreed to meet him. But there was no such thing as the "Brotherhood of the Black Scorpion." Max had made it up because it sounded tough, and these kids had bought it hook, line, and sinker. The one on the left was wearing a muscle shirt, and had hair cut short- too short- and then spiked into an unconvincing punk haircut. He was fidgeting a lot, but it wasn't Junkie Blues this time. It was fear. The one on the right was a bit taller, and had some actual muscle to him. He didn't look very nervous at all. His nose was rather big... somewhere in the range between Cyrano de Bergerac and Pinnochio on Tax Day. Poor kid probably got the s**t beaten out of him on a daily basis over it, but at least it had given him some backbone. He'd be able to snap his friend like a twig.

"So, what?" The Nose said. "Are you the guy? What's the deal?"

"I'm the guy," Max said quietly. "But you are late."

Spiky Hair closed his eyes when he said that. He was the one who had delayed them, Max decided. Most likely, he had had second thoughts. He hadn't wanted to come. The Nose must've convinced him to do it, and now Spiky Hair was feeling guilty about his doubts getting them in trouble. But The Nose... Max thought he was smarter than that. By now, The Nose had probably realized that something wasn't right. He was trying to figure out how to signal to Spiky Hair without Max noticing. He had no idea that Max had already noticed.

"We got held up," The Nose said. "Rough neighborhood out here." An obvious lie. For all his other apparent qualities, The Nose seemed to be a rather bad liar.

"Yeah," Spiky Hair added. He was too late to sound anything but suspicious. Max was getting bored of spending time on the pair. Best strike now, when neither would anticipate it.

Max took a step forward and threw a simple palm strike at Spiky Hair's chest. The kid never stood a chance. He merely stood there was a look of confused horror, with Max's palm resting flat on his chest. Spiky Hair made a gurgling sound and stumbled back. A gaping wound of red stained his thin muscle shirt. There were blades on the palms of Max's hand, as if they were growing out of it. Blades. Not growing out of his knuckles like a cheap Wolverine cosplayer, but out of the very palm of his hand. An anatomical impossibility. Spiky Hair tripped over a rusty, torched metal barrel and fell to the ground, clutching his chest.

The Nose watched it all happen, too confused or startled or overwhelmed to do anything. He finally did react when Spiky Hair tripped over the barrel. He threw himself at Max, trying to tackle him to the ground. But whatever bullies The Nose had grown up dealing with, none of them had had their fighting prowess honed in the cold laboratories of Distath. Max merely crouched down into the attack and stabbed up at the boy. The Nose was gutted through the belly and all the way to his upper back. He was dead withing seconds. Maximillion flicked his wrist down, letting his blades return to his flesh. The Nose fell to the ground with a soft thud.

"Please don't kill me!" begged Spiky Hair. He was still alive, though he wouldn't be for long. Unlike The Nose, he would be bleeding to death. "I swear, I wont tell anyone about you... dear God, don't kill me! I just want to live! "

"Don't we all?" Max thought to himself ironically. "Don't we all?"

The boy screamed horribly in the end. Daisy only watched.

Max didn't answer at first. He was kneeling next to Spiky Hair, crouched over his body. It looked like he had his hand on the kid's forehead. He was silent for a second or two more, then removed his hand and slowly turned his head. He did not get up.

"Contrariwise... there's nothing worse than a human without any demon in him." He spoke softly, only under his breath. He said something else, far too quiet to be heard... only a subvocalization of two syllables.

"Makes you wonder, though, doesn't it?" Maximillion looked over at The Nose. "After all, there are plenty of cruel humans and kind demons. No, I believe it's the men trapped in the middle who lose their minds." He paused and rose to his feet. On the ground, Spiky Hair was starting to stir. He wasn't breathing, but his limbs were moving a little. "At any rate, if you're worried about the local authorities becoming suspicious, don't. Two kids who were hanging with the wrong crowds disappear. Maybe they died, maybe they went to Jersey, but it's nothing bizarre enough to be noticed. If you're worried about the kids themselves... keep in mind that they came here with the intent of joining a club for newbies in organized crime. ...and if you're worried about whether I may be a maniac and a loose cannon... don't. I have a reason for each and every thing I do."

To the side, The Nose was starting to climb to his feet. His wounds didn't look quite so bad now, ironically. Spiky Hair was already standing, though he was unsteady. Max only barely noticed them at all. He is staring at a brick wall with the faded message "FU K E DHE S" written on it in angry red spray-paint. He shrugs, and balls up a fist. Spiky Hair and The Nose jerk to attention as he does, and he turns back to Neko.

"Sometimes... and sometimes, it's hard to tell what side someone is on. Good day, Neko."

He walks away, and the kids shuffle after him. The last to leave is Daisy. As soon as Max is out of sight, Daisy looks directly at Neko with a horrible look. An aware look. As fully human as any human. And for the look in her eyes, she clearly has something to say... but she doesn't say anything. Eventually, she breaks her stare and follows the others, disappearing into the industrial chaos of the city.

*Molin walks down Main Street into the heart of New York and enjoys the rain as it falls down on to his face and on his body. He keeps walking down the street without a care in the world and wonders why is he still in the rain and why isn't he getting out of it?
He keeps looking at the street signs and wonders where he is going and what he is going to get into along the way.*

*Some what surprised that the rain hasn't let up he keeps wondering around the streets trying to find something to do and desides to go into a herbs and potions store and buy a few things.
After getting out of the store he looks up at the street sign and see's that he is on smith's avanue and desides to go back onto Main Street and see where it leads him.*

*Felling a little tired and uncomfortable...he desides to take refuge in a hotel for the night. While in the hotel he buys a bag so he can carry his herbs and spices and what not with him.*
((OCC: Hey I'm going to go to bed...thats why I ended my post like this...I'll be back tomorrow...hopefully...))