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If Hunter was worried before, he was worse now. Skiaska had drunk more bottles than possibly healthy and was now sobbing quietly as she leaned against the bar counter. "Everyone I love has either died or left me, I make everyone run away, and even the hunters seem to forget me. God, I think I could just die now..." As she finished saying that, a strange gleam came ot her eye. "That's... exactly... it..." She stood up, all signs of sadness gone, a firm deterination in her features. "I'm going to go out in one last blaze." Before Hunter could say anything, Ski quickly left.

(Exit)

The creature's motercycle hummed happily beneath her as she rode into town, her currently dark purple hair trailing behind her in the wind, and her overcoat securly tightened around her and thus... not trailing.... Anyway, she was new, and as she passed from the suberbian darkness into the sporadically lit main streets of New York, her hair became hilighted and turned almost a fiery red when under the irridecant lights, attracting much attention from everyone. However, she had one purpose and one purpose alone. She was going to kill things. Not just things, but vampires. Yes, vampires. A sadistic smirk played on her lips, and her eyes glared out at the road from beneath her cowboy hat. That would be fun...

Her eyes scanned the side walks and signs and lit up when they spotted a night club. It's lettering was blood-red, and comphortingly thrumming music floated out from the doorway. She had learned quickly, the best place for alcohol was a bar. And dance clubs always had bars in them, somewhere. Her flamethrower-converted backpack was getting low, and nothing lit up the night like a little liquid fire. She slowed the motercycle to a stop, then jumped off, landing easily on the concrete and looking around. After a moment of contemplation, she walked in, without a secound glance.

She walked straight to the bar, and as she did so, her eyes started to widen. THEY HAD MUG ROOTBEER!!!!!!! She made it to the bar and staired up, over the rim, at the bartender with her huge and almost surprised-looking eyes. Once gaining his attention, she almost shrieked, "ROOT BEER!" then rallied in her voice to an almost whisper, almost twitching with the change, "And Sake."

She blinked once, then continued. "Not together." She shook her head to emphasize. "Separate." Then nodded. All her words after the initial outburst were clipped, almost strained. She was obviously controlling herself very well, for just having driven days on end. Rootbeer, a little sleep, then killing time. She nodded to herself, then smiled. Yup. That would do.

The bartender chuckled heartily at her strange behavior, then spoke while getting her drinks. "Aye, but I'm goin'ta have t'see yor' licence. Y'don't look old enough to be drinkin', young lady..."

The girl blinked twice then forked over a licence, which was obviously not hers. It had a picture of a bald and tatooed guy with sunglasses on, looking angrily at the camera, as well as a "Height" feild that read "5'9''" and other such preposterous stats. The bartender looked suspiciously at her, then placed the licence under the bar to be returned to the said individual who's stats were on it. He then handed the girl her rootbeer, but witheld the Sake. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't legally give you alcohol." He shrugged, indicating that it wasn't his fault.

The girl simply frowned. Then turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. "Stupid laws." She took the rootbeer, started sipping it, and leaned back on the bar, glaring at everyone who passed or likewise looked at her. Why did they never belive that she was 24!? She started ruminating and pouting, her eye slowly starting to twitch...

Nailujien sat down at the bar, motioning the bartender for a drink. He came over quietly eyeing Nail. As he took out a shot glass and poured Nail one, he spoke:

"What the hell happened to the mark on your head?"

What do you mean? inquired Nail as he took the shot down, some Vodka would soothe the overwhelming headache.

"I'm not sure how to describe it, it's a purple mark now and its starting to cover your forehead. You need to go see the nurse. Haven hasn't seen you around, and some were even gonna report that you were dead."

Dead?? I've been gone that long? Nail stared at the counter while waving for another shot.

"Jesus what the hell have I been doing?" thought Nail to himself.

"Last one for ya kid, you're a minor and you look like you need to rest; not drink yourself to death."

With that the bartender walked away to help other customers. Nail quietly sat at the bar and took that drink. He didn't have a good tolerance to alcohol so it didn't matter.

Kevin leaves the bar.

Nail lifted his head up noticing Sady sit next to him.

It hurts but its fine. Nail made his face smile slightly then his eyes trailed back down to his empty shot glass.

He knew something was wrong with the concussion, the origins of it were from that demon, the hunter group that he first went with and retreated with in the humvees. The scar had slowly been throbbing more and more as its color changed to a dark blackish-purple.

Nail quietly took out a headband and put it over his forehead to cover the mark.

What brings you to the bar? heh...I only got two drinks, sucks to be young.

Nail leaned forward on the counter. He rubbed his aching head for a moment then ran his hand over his hair as he looked over at Sady.

The high-rise district eh? What's goin on over there?

He quietly eyed the rest of that sandwich, been a while since he had eaten. Starvation was working on his nerves.

The Krii'Vette safely parked in the Garage across the street, he had Stephanie take care of the keyings on the hood and side. Grabbing Kerrigan's bag, he lead the teenager to the door of Hunter's Bar. 'So, you got a name, kid, or am I just gonna call you that?' he asked, his cigarette wobbling up and down as he spoke.