User blog:MockingJester/Kurupa Nara 2

'''Disclaimer: Here we are again with this...well I'll call it a reminder. This is something relatively new to me. Not the whole putting words on a blank page to make a (somewhat)coherent story but putting it around for others to see. I would appreciate anything thrown back about how to make it...more bearable. Because all mighty know something is definitely going to go south somewhere in that page. Long story short, see something ludicrous around, send me a note. I'll be able to rectify that for the next one. '''

So yea...

'''...that's it. Have a good one.'''

Silence. That is what cloaks the rugged, run down condition of a secluded shelter.Darkness reigns in it. With it, so does the two bathing in it, over a raggedy couch. A small kitten, black furred,laying on a hand. He purrs and sleeps over it, grasping a finger with his tiny paws. The hand of the man in black, Bentley, the man in black who stood immobile. While he looked like he was sleeping, the dim shade of red his eye orifices exposed meant to say otherwise.

His other hand, atop the side of his couch, the thing being punctured by two arrows. "So I remember her, next time..." he murmurs. Escaping her was easy, despite her sharpshooting skills. Bentley just didn't like using his powers in a counter-intuitive way, especially against those that weren't ill-intended. He understood her, even if he would keep doing what he did. That is why it took him so long, so long before he decided to use a shadow clone to bait her away, far from his hideout. "I will make amends one day, angel. But for now, I have people calling out..." he continues "...even if they don't know it..." ---

Unlike the last day, this morning gave the gift of sunlight. As if to compensate for the heavy rain, this time, the sun became very through with it s shine, metaphorically puncturing every window, crack and hole possible of every house and building in the New Orleans. Those sleeping were holstered up by this rampant fluorescent decadence, but none the less felt happy about having the sunshine. Bentley's hideout was no exception, as the darkness surrounding him fled the scene, leaving naught but spots lights all around. His kitten, Jerry, woke up with them, meowing in content.

Bentley, noticing his little friend, finally gets up from his couch and goes straight to the bathroom. "Good morning, little whiskers, did you have a good night sleep?" The response came in the form if an adorable high-pitched meowing directed at him. "That's good. Today we go get your stuff. Bed, food, health bill, everything. You'll be coming with me." The kitten meows once more, his tail wagging in accordance. But first, a bath...

Mr.Jerry was a little apprehensive at the prospect of taking a bath. He claws at the extremities of the bath, wanting nothing with the warm water streaming. "Now Jerry, I know you hate baths, but this has to pass. Who know how long you were alone, outside." Bentley speaks. His words fall on deaf ears as Jerry screeches and claws at him every time he approaches his palms. Even with caution, the little kitten manages to scratch him a few times, earning a few fleeting wounds. Nothing that detracts Bentley from trying to calm him down. "The water is fine, trust me. It's not as bad as you make it out to be." he talks again, to an overly agitated kitten, not listening. Minutes pass and each attempt is bestowed with failure. Bentley sighs and looks at the little cat. He seems scared of the liquid. Not unwilling to take a dip, nor was he refusing out of cat pride. He just seemed terrified.

Bentley thinks it over and puts Jerry on the floor before undressing. He unfastens the many buttons of his outfit and hangs them at the door. Then, taking off his pants, he lays them over the toilet seat. As of right now, the only thing on him breaking the illusion of nakedness would be his mask as well as his underwear, both drenched in black. With this, he does the unthinkable, to Jerry's eyes: he simply enters and sits inside the warm water. Plunging his lacerated palms, he groans a bit before the pain subsides. Laying back to the extremity, he sighs in relief, his head tilted up at the ceiling as his mind begins turning to his thoughts. Yet, a small meow shatters that, his attention turning to the side of the bath, on the floor. Jerry was pawed up at the man in black. "So you simply wanted company? Fair enough, come 'ere.~ he joyfully lifts his little passenger to the bath but makes sure to slowly immerse the kitten in the water, to get him used to it. With a small tender brush, he proceeds to scrub the cat's limbs. Then, he goes to the stomach and back. "You see, it's not so bad, now is it?" He continues on for the next 10 minutes, making sure to clean everywhere.

5 minutes after, Jerry is found wiped dry by a towel, the man in black, with his own towel on his waist. "There! You seemed to enjoy that bath time," he says, the kitten purring in agreement. He scrubs his fur dry and combs him with a shadow knelt comb, granted by his abilities. He makes sure to get everything lined up, a resplendent fur of black and white lining up flawlessly. Bentley hums while doing so, but a problem arises. A tiny noise is broadcasted all over the hideout. It isn't loud, but it definitely noticed by the two. Bentley scours the entire place, noting how far he is from the grumbling. "What is that noise?" he ponders, ear sticking on every surface available. "It's no intruder, that's for sure. Maybe mice between the walls?" The grumbling continues, but this time, slightly closer, to where Jerry is, standing on the table. The curious feline scouts his caretaker's actions with interest as he spends the next 10 minutes putting his ear on anything he comes across, to try to hear that grumbling noise. The sound's broadcasting continues to elude him, no matter where he looks.

Soon, he turns to moving his furniture and was to proceed with lifting his couch up. A last second grumbling stops him, coming oddly from the kitchen. He slowly walks, as to not blur out the small emission. Another grumble echoes through the kitchen. "Closer," he says, gaining foot upon the source. Directly in front of his table, his newly adopted kitten stands, tilting his head to the left in confusion, confused about his master's behavior. Another grumble bursts out, around Jerry. "Don't move, Jerry," he asks, looking under the table where he stands, only to hear it over. He then looks directly at his little feline, raising an eyebrow behind his mask. It moves in perfect sync with the grumble. He takes his feline companion in the air and sets him on his shoulder. "Mr.Jerry, why didn't you tell me you were hungry?" The cat meows something, but he does not understand. "You just hold on, we're going out to get you something," he adds, going up his trap door, bathing the two in the outside light.

He cloaks his and his little friend's bodies, hidden in plain sight. He hears the daily symphony of the mass voices of people just starting their daily activities, chores and jobs. Bentley feels relief, being among them, even just for a few minutes. Even as cloaked as he is. Walking toward the food plaza, a bliss envelops his shrouded visage. "It's been a while since I've merely walked around here," he whispers, too absorbed in the moment to notice Jerry has jumped off his shoulder, bringing his little paws in the direction for the plaza. Only when the man in black happened to look down, did he hears the enthusiast meows skipping the ground in a darkened path. "Oh no..." he began sprinting.

Jerry seems to be running into a precise path, avoiding any type of food not specifically meant for animals. The furthest store will do for him, apparently garnished with everything a home pet would want. His strife, agile and balanced, he avoids all sorts of obstacle possible, almost as if trained when really his animal instincts dictate his movements. The man in black follows, equally as sure footed. Alas, because of his size, slightly taller than the average man, his work around in such a clustered pack of streets resulted in people dropping their things off, as if pushed away by a strong gust of winds. The trail of broken vases, spattered food and otherwise dropped things easily follows the bursting kitten, going inside a store that just had a customer exiting out, giving it time to enter. Bentley quickly barges inside, still cloaked in his own shadow, a walking blur faded away. Yep, the clerk seemed more than enthusiastic about the door opening on itself.

~My, my! Still playing the invisible man?~ she asked, scratching a very purring kitten on her counter. The man in black didn't quite expect her to be the one here today. He stands on a corner, crouched as she continues to pet his cat. ~Darrell is out today, visiting relatives, so I'm the one in charge at the moment.~ she adds, letting the cat run toward his owner. She follows it, stopping before a corner while the fur ball climbs on what seems to be an invisible ledge. "You know your little friend is giving away your position, right? Now, why don't you be a good man and make yourself comfortable here? He tells me everything." A shadow materializes over the corner, before taking shape of a man with one knee to the ground rising up. He takes his kitten in his arms and holds him affectionately "So he did tell you about what happened." The lady, her purple wings gently puffing air takes on a prideful stance ~Well, of course, is it not you that indirectly linking our two souls together? I know it is.~

Bentley puts Jerry over a table and folds his arms while his back touches the wall "I see. Like the others, he seems very adamant on me meeting their brides." Her walk directs her to the nearest table, upon which she takes a sovereign sitting position, not ever taking her eyes out of him, what with his tendencies to suddenly disappear "Well, just like the others, I would have loved to meet the one that worked day and night to assure I would meet an equal." Her head rests on her left palm, a slight annoyance peeking out of her tone as the conversation continues." I mean, the only reason I even know you exist is because I noticed a very faint trace of spirit energy that lingered about for days. That, and the fact that my Darrell often looked like he spoke to himself at times during the day."

"Really now?" he asks, his outfit shaping continually with tiny spikes growing and receding back "Maybe I need to re-visit my contacting habits."

"Sounds like you're not one to spend too much time with people you meet,huh?" she asks, her curiosity perking up.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I work a lot, so I don't have much time for that."

"And yet, you somehow manage to give yourself time to chatter with those you've watched."

"What!?" he got startled, hearing this "How in the world would you know of that?"

"Well..." a cup of coffee floats to her and her tail begins stirring it "Anyone going high and beyond simply converging the paths of potential lovers is someone who also ends up making friends out of them. Seeing how you reacted, I take it I'm in the right about this, am I not?"

"You seem to be very on point with subjects like this." he responds, his gaze lowered at his sleeping kitten.

"Well, honey, I am a succubus. I am about that kind of thing. Though I admit, using our work with animals and unexpected similar traits was pretty astute of you."

"..." he didn't answer, not sure of what to say about this. His body lightly was shaking, to the point where she couldn't see it, all hidden by the darkness of his.

"However, like I said, it's a shame we didn't ever meet throughout these 2 years my Darrell and I began a new chapter as two."

"Like I said, I have a lot of work and that does not allow me too much time to hang around."

"Well, you certainly seem to have a lot for him."

"I just like checking out how things are."

"Well, you could wait for me to come by and welcome you. I also like discussing things with the one that got me married." she takes a sip of her coffee "And I bet all the other wedded brides would too."

"You seem to be taking this little negligence at heart." he comments.

"Again, meeting and speaking to the man who has set all of our hearts toward someone of our desires would be a blessed day for the ladies such as I. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I guess." he simply shrugs.

"Tell you what. Whatever you came here for, I can give it for you, free of charge." she proposes, a smirk on point.

"But?"

"In exchange, I want to hear the name of the man who wedded me and kept himself away from my eyes for so long."

"Hmm..."

"What's wrong? You afraid I won't hold my words? she expresses, even more, expectancy, leaning toward his from her table, hands under her chin, tail wagging over her head.

"I was expecting you to ask much more."

"Your name will suffice. As a way to confirm what my dear has been telling me."

Bentley looked down, thinking. He didn't know whether to take the deal. Succubi are known to be delicate crafts of hidden agendas and what not. But, despite his heightened sense to see things like that, he could feel she was simply asking to entertain an official relation with him, as he does with her husband. He unfolds his arms and grabs his kitten, still sleeping on his palms before gazing deep into her eyes "Call me Bentley."

"Bentley you say? I'm Sabrina. Nice to meet you" she holds out a hand to shake, yet he simply returns her gesture with a deep bow. "Strange man you are, but very astute. I'm sure someone will be very happy to have you under her claw." her expression leaked mischievousness. He didn't react to that. Or rather, didn't want to react. Maybe doing so would have simply encouraged her. Never the less, Jerry's tummy growled. "Ohh, poor kitty. Is that why you came?" she asks, walking back to the storage. Between the door's frames, she turns at the two and nudges her head toward the door. Bentley follows.

The moment she enters, the door frame turns purple, with projecting energy spiraling at the center. Bentley stops for a moment, to observe, mere feet from the portal-like door "A long range teleport spell." A voice reacts out to him from the other side "Yea, it's easy to make if you know demonic magic. Now come on, you don't want to make your poor kitty starve, do you?" He walks in, instantly blinking to what looks like a storage the size of a house. Inside, tons of chained animal products stood in lines, like soldiers awaiting a noble walking down the red carpet. "Amazing. I didn't know you people had this much supply lying here." He walks, the voice of Sabrina ever closer the further he nears her "Yea, seems it was not just our lives your handy work united. Our common geniuses allowed us to make very good profits." she says as she comes back handling a big bag of the premium brand they had. Label with 'Royal Makai personal best', the King of the kingdom were the best brand of animal food they happen to have. "Our best brand, free of charge, as promised." she hands him the bag, seemingly proud. "Thank you for this." the man in black bows down with his kitten drooling on his shoulder at the prospect of feasting.The three walk out back the door, returning to the store. Bentley and Jerry pace towards the exit, eventually fading away in the crowd, yet Sabrina could see them cloaking amidst the denizens, escaping the sight of anyone. "What secrets prompt you to hide as such?" she pondered before the ring bell of the door snapped her out of her questioning.

An hour later, with a bag opened, a kitten could be spot munching about a small anthill-like stack of pieces, from the King of the Kingdom, his master gazing at the people, still apparently in the dairy mood. From the rooftop they nested about, Bentley longingly observed the countless trades, sampling, purchases and more that occurred. Even with 2 years in, he still had much to discover about the New Orleans, his profession and lifestyle often dagging him away. The only time he ever considers expending his visit to the entirely of the city, was when he tracked someone's movements, seeking a way to burrow deep in his target's traveling habits. Every step, turn, and even eye movement were analyzed with greats details. From the puzzles pieces, he would orchestrate a way of tangling his target's path to where he wanted it when he wanted it. Nothing left out of the equation until at last, the final piece locks in his devious strategy, ensuring that his target's fate be completely tangled in his fingers. "Playing cupid sure is similar to bounty hunting." he breathes out when something oddly interesting catches his eye.

That something progressively shaped in the form of a tumbling woman. A singular horn planted firmly on her forehead. Her skin color matching one of the very skies. A pair of foreign glasses decorating her face. "A blue Oni." he slips out, continuing his hidden gaze over her. She stumbles left and right, but clearly, she's going somewhere. Home perhaps?

Her pace is irregular, unbalanced and tipsy. Bentley looks back at the door she just came out very quickly. A singular effigy of a mug decks the front. "A tavern, of course," he says, not noticing that his kitten was also staring a hole in the tumbling oni. Something was off, however. Blue Oni, unlike the red ones, don't usually drink out on a whim. She must be nervous about a particular happening. He returns his gaze to her, but his kitten looks back at him. "What's wrong, Jerry? You still hungry?" the little feline looks still at him, his tail down on the brick stack. He briefly turned to the lady, then back at him. Bentley was never one to leave little details like this to coincidence. He kneels down to make face-to-face contact with Jerry "You can sense her distraught? Is she in trouble?" His gaze turned into a concerning set of meows, as he turns back to the tilting Oni, a bit further than before. His meows then turned to a pace, a quick one at that, leaving his master dumb-founded "Jerry, where re you going!?" He ignores him, running from roof to roof, while his master ponders as to how did such a little cat even learn to run like that. "Maybe his empathy drive must be pushing him forward." Bentley notes, rushing to catch the black fur ball.

He catches up to his kitten, but simply picks him up to set him upon his shoulders, before he continues his marathon, to catch up. He notices her stopping before a door of a house drafted in oceans of blue, with a sunny color as the rooftop. A weird color, because this orange had stripes of black as well, but the trinity fitted well, neither taking the principal spotlight. Shaken and wobbly, her blunt fingers somehow manage to find their way to her side pocket, albeit with difficulty. "Now..." she can be hear whispering as the key slowly advances "txo ope--n-- *clank* "...this-- *clank* "...ldoor-- *clank* "daman ita-- *clank* "stop movign-- *clank* "thvis-- *clank* "...winstatn-- *clank* "Arrggh!"

A crack vibrates in the air. It came as suddenly as it went, but, the amount of dust resulting from it, the one gathering around the door, lingered for a while longer. Bentley was unsure of what he saw, but he could guess at what happened. With the dust settling down, one thing anyone could see is a missing door. Well, parts of the door. Half of the door stands within the frame, however, broken it is. With the dust completely gone, the two could notice the Oni, in a punching position, her arm extended beyond the frame, reaching the inside of her domain. "I guess punching her way in works as well," Bentley remarks, as she enters, the remains of the door falling at the mere contact with her horns.

Despite it being a sunny day, the insides of her house were drenched in shadows, such that they would have to change vantage point. Fortunately, it looks like her house hosts a chimney, much like the others. With a gentle somersault, he finds himself on top of her roof, sitting on the chimney's top. As he did with Clara's house, he slowly drops he slowly drops down inside and immediately hide as soon as he lands. Unlike the bovine he followed around, an Oni was much more likely to notice the small changes in the air, should he fail to make himself discreet. Of course, before he could even cloak, Jerry decided to go directly to the lady, causing a spur of panic from the man in black.

The incredibly agile feline disregards any notion of sneaking and opts instead to make contact with the inebriated lady, jumping up to her table and letting an audible meow echo through. The first one failed to grab her attention, as she was too into the sobbing she had quietly been indulging in for a while now, the table wet with her tears. The Jerry the kitten looks at the corner of the kitchen, knowing exactly where his owner would stand with dropping ears. Lifting one of his tiny paws, he points towards the sad miss before walking a bit closer to the edge of the table. Bentley takes a quiet step forward and puts a hand over his kitten's head, caressing him a bit as his cloaked head leans towards his tiny face. He knew she was in a trouble of some sort and it seems his kitten had, despite his protest, already found a way to gather the puzzles behind this heap of sadness. Bentley was not one to waste such an opportunity.

"Go ahead, Jerry. Soothe her aching heart," he whispers to the kitten, a tiny tongue reaching his gloved palm as a gesture of approval. Bentley then returns to his wall, the sobbing mask what little noise he would happen to make and disappears somewhere around the house, in a more sure spot as Jerry meows again, this time, louder. The lady stops her unending sober, her ears perked up and irresistibly pointed to the small kitten. With a sing sweep of her finger, any lingering tears taped to her face is gone as she sniffles a bit, looking longingly at the cat. "Well, hello there, little kitten, how did you find your way over here?" she asks, trying to regain her composure while the tiny intruder walks up to her. He places a paw over her hand, her tear-stained hand and licks it one. He then stares back at her, insisting on his paw over her hand. "Meow?" he utters.

The tone this meowing takes, unlike the others he used to broadcast, is changed half way as he stares at her. Curious by this, she regains some of her usual calm and stares back at him "Are you asking me a question?" He utters an affirmative meow in response and moves his paw placed over her hand with insistence. The Oni lady proceeds to rub it clean of leftover tears with the knowledge of what he wanted. "You want to know why I cry so much, do you?" she asks, disturbingly calm despite the copious amount of alcohol she gorged down. It was obvious, considering the entire kitchen smelt like a brewery and yet, whatever incoherence she suffered from seemed to have left the place for an unending sorrow. Jerry, while somewhat affected by the sheer amount, tried his best to stay focused, for his empathy drive, working on par with an adrenaline burst, prompted him to ignore the inconvenience. He meows once more, to grab her attention again, to get her focused amidst her drunken state mixed with her sadness. "Well.." she rubs her hand constantly "...my attempts resulted in abject failure yet again."

Unbeknownst to the two, the window to the kitchen, leading to the outside, was opened. On the other side, a shadow hung by, sticking to the wall like a spider. Being on the court's side, there is barely anyone to notice him. Bentley listened, intrigued by what she just said "Attempts? In failures? What failures?" Of course, he would have to continue eavesdropping, something he did more than anything.

Meanwhile, Jerry sat before her and continued to listen. She knew he wanted a bit more about her outburst. A sigh escaping her her lips, the Oni resumes on about her particular predicament. "You see, I'm an Oni and, as such, I'm expected to hold a certain way. You know, strength, intimidation and what not. Alas, I am not fond of such things. Even with my prowess in physical tasks, I prefer the more "delicate" things in life. Things such as writing, caretaking, poems..." She stops at the last word, sighing once more, this one being more charged with emotion than the rest of the sentence. Jerry walks over to her and meows at her, a high pitched, yet gentle one. He wanted her to continue and she knew it. Being too emotionally unbalanced at the moment, she couldn't muster any resistance and spoke on. "My relatives are all Onis as well. None of them appreciate how I act in general, especially with my lack of aggressiveness. My elder sister, in particular, condemns my way of life. But to be honest, I don't wish to be as they are. This morning, the reason I came in shambles, was because of her. You see, yesterday I had devised something. Pieces of words here and here for someone I admire. It was then that my sister contacted me, asking whether I wanted to go with her and some others to the tavern. As usual, I politely refused, but, being my elder sister, she began shaming me for not indulging in our proud drinking tradition."

Jerry, laying on the table, listened, ears perked up, knowing his master was interested in this. "She continued on and on until I finally gave in and accompanied them. Of course, seconds after we had entered the establishment, my elder sister and the others quickly initiated a drinking contest, to see who could gulp down the most alcohol. They did and while their excessive drinking progressed, they began picking up other drinkers, men and flirted with them. Meanwhile, I kept to myself, writing a poem. Alas, my sister noticed and went, yet again, on a ranting spree about how I gave shame to the family by not indulging in drinks with them. She spouted nonsense about me showing weakness and what not and slammed the strongest drink before me, with an explicit order to gulp it down. At first, I refused and of course, you know she didn't take it. Reluctantly, I did drink it and, being who I am, I completely lost control of myself. I remember doing shameful things and moreover, almost...almost.." She had great difficulty continuing on, ashamed about this.

Jerry had heard enough, and, judging about the window of the kitchen devoid of his sensation of his owner, it was safe to say Bentley had too. Instead, he was already up to the second floor, searching for the so-called poems she claims to write. Maybe there is something about the man she is fond of. His experience in the matter made it obvious. That in her drunken state, she had almost given herself, unwillingly to someone else she barely met, ruining her chance with her true loved one. That her supposed sister would have encouraged her to do so. That amidst this state, a moment of clarity had detoxified her enough to realize her action. He knew it all since for others he dealt with previously has similar problems. He knew his kitten wouldn't bother her anymore with that, seeing how heart-wrenching it would be to have her finish.

His feet quietly pace throughout the floor, slow, methodical, precise. "Surely her precious pieces must be at arm's length," he tells himself, nearing closer to her personal room. Approaching the lock on the doorknob, he picks it easy with his tiny lock picks and gently opens the door. His thieving instincts kick in, telling him there was no way he would find the stack of papers in any obvious location. No, they will be hidden somewhere. Bentley looks at the room. For an Oni, her room was surprisingly devoid of anything Oni-related. A sing bottle of alcohol lingered about in the remote left corner of the room. The rest consisted of various books, scraps of papers, a few empty bottles of spring water and many, many chewed out pencils.

"A rabid writer she is," Bentley comments as he looks for every oddity he could spot. Nothing presented to him. Squinting his eyes more, he collapses his hands together and focuses, just enough to draw out a bit of spirit energy into hie eyes, which turn red. An amalgamate of voices enters and exit his ears, from the outside world. Yet he ignores them, as a faint square of red shapes up under the empty bottle of alcohol. Bentley walks over to it and picks the thing up. He smells it. "Not even a lingering smell. Must be a dud," he mutters as his gaze returns to the small cabin this bottle sat upon. He glides his finger on the square and feels a hollow shape, deep enough to allow fingers to pass through. He slowly lifts the thing cover...

Only to be met with yet another lock. This time, the lock decorate a box that appears to be a small treasure chest. The lock looks like it is premium forged. "A grade A lock? She must be serious about this," notes, preparing a pair of lock picks. However, before trying anything, a look around the area was a necessity. He puts the cover back over the hidden hole and quietly exits the room, putting the empty bottle over and closing the door.

He walks to the stairs leading to the first floor and waits. He hears the Oni speaking to his little kitten. While not particularly attentive to the details, the conversation has turned away from the depressive tale of last night to something about botany? "Botany?" he ponders, this kind of thought lingering in a corner of his mind. Regardless, he now knew he wouldn't have to look behind his back while picking a possibly tricky lock. Relief yearns at his heart as he returns to the lady's room, lock picks spinning between the fingers while a shackle gently grabs and lifts the cover.

"Got to be careful here," he mutters with the picks getting to work. He tries the first pair. So far, they give no signs of wearing out. The first and second set are both unlocked. His locks fiddle with the third one. It won't budge, feeling a bit heavier than the first two. "Hrrmm," he grunts, one of the locks forcing its way. It looks like the lock will give in and-- *Snap!* One of the picks breaks in half. Bentley lets out an unsatisfied grunt and takes out another one as he tries again for the third lock part. His remaining lock pick is joined by the fresh one, holding up the previously done part up as the other sets to work on the heavy one. It does not budge and this pick tries to force it. *Snap!* "Are you serious?" he mutters softly while taking the third lock. It goes in the hole and *Snap!* Bentley's eyes squint in annoyance "That's it! I'm taking the master pick!" He searches in his pocket and pulls out a golden painted pick. This one was encrusted with tiny green rocks, for luck. He flips it in the air, as a good luck measure and then gets to work. As usual, the third one stays immobile, but being a higher grade pick, it manages to force it up as he grabs it with the second pick, keeping it in place. The fourth and fifth gives him a bit of trouble, albeit being unlocked like the third. A *click* resonates in the room, resulting in the man's enthusiast grab of the box.

"Quite heavy," he comments while lifting the gray container, now more thoroughly decorated with golden emblems and frames, just as it is with the lock. He lays it on the bed and crouches down for his gaze to meet the box at equal height. His thumbs meet the two extremities of the thing and with a *click*, they uncover the top, revealing a stack of papers. Looking into them, they looked like drafts, being circled with many grammatical errors and sentence erase with ink. Though it was the case, the words of each and every single letter contained were deeply drenched with love, obviously directed at someone. Even with the mass amount of correction notes defiling it, anyone that were ever to be the target of such a letter would see his heart overjoyed as if they were shot by a golden arrow of a cupid and would be found unable to resist such call to a newly life. Bentley himself could feel the warmth coming from these letters, yet what he was searching for failed to come around. "She writes to many letters for someone but neglected to put his name on them," he notes while reading each of them. Soon finding himself at the bottom of the pile, the last letter, the one with the most correction marks and rugged state. And yet, not only did this page proved to be her best work, but, it also gave away a name. The name, or a nickname of whom she could be after.

"Caster? That is his name. No...a mere nickname," he speaks "Which leads to believe she does not actually know his name. A clue, maybe, on what he does?" Bentley looks over the letters for the smallest of clues, anything as to decipher who he searches for. Alas, nothing came up, save for the name 'Caster'. A sigh escapes his mask "I guess this means an old fashion search and unveil." He places the letters back inside the box and puts it back to the hidden hole as his shackle places the cover back on it. Just in time, for he could hear the mighty footsteps of a being going up the stairs.

"It seems she was done speaking," he whispers, crouching down as a circle of shadow and red grew beneath him. His shape, reduced to a shadow of his corporal form, collapses in a murky water-like liquid before being gargled down by the abyss that was conceived by his will. Just as it had shrunk down to non-existence, the Oni lady had opened the door. One could have thought she had somehow find out the presence of an intruder in her most personal room. That thought would immediately vanish as she makes her way, significantly less sorrowful, her head often turning to the tiny being that was Jerry, latched on her right shoulder. Jumping on the bed, she continued speaking to him about different things, the conversation lasting for an hour or two.

Over the Oni's house, the rooftop briefly had tatters of black here and here gathering to a swirling hole. A hand exits that abyss, covered in black. Then, another hand follows suit. After a second or two, a whole  shape crawled out of the gaping hole. Still, in the murky liquid, the shape takes a few steps forward as droplets of shadow begin falling and fading to nothingness. Soon enough, the shape reveals Bentley, who nudges his head left and right as the hole he emerged from was reduced to a sigil of shadow before it, like the rest, faded away. "A little close for comfort," he chuckles before holding a paper. The last letter that gave him a semblance of a clue about his target, 'Caster'. "A good old search is of necessity for this one. But where to start?" he ponders until he remembers the tavern where she was spotted leaving. "The Ol' stool? Might as well begin here."

Bentley returned to the kitchen's outside window of the Oni. For an hour or two, he waited. And then, a small pair of paws reach the other side of the mirror, meowing a bit to get attention. Bentley notices the sound and spots his kitten Jerry with two paws in the air, pleading him to pick him up. He does so, collecting the kitten and the graceful purrs that came with it. "So, how did it go? What is she doing?" he asks. The tiny cat responds with a small yawn, something the man in black quickly understood "I see. No one would blame her for a nap when she spent this much amount of time crying about. But first, we are going to the stool she had left. Maybe I can more insight to all of this."

Bentley gently sets his cat on his right shoulder before climbing  up the wall, leading to the lady's window. Here, he could observe a slumbering body over a gray sheet with lines of black. His attention turns away from the scene with a sudden head shift.His stare, gazing out onto nothing, in particular, is a strange occurrence. HIs eyes are vague and unfocused, seemingly reminiscing of something. Something about her maybe? Perhaps so, for he dropped out of the window with an inaudible whisper "I've no luxury for things like this. Better get to the search." A hint of regret crosses his voice, but it's fleeting moment easily passes over Jerry's attention, who simply meows in confusion.

He sprints through roofs, retracing his steps back to 'The Old Stool' while ignoring the mass amount of daily rubble that emanates from the streets. Soon enough, he manages to reach the place within a relatively short time. Of course, since this was good old searching method via information acquisition, a sneak in would be the worst way to establish contact and maybe even trust. Bentley's obvious path would be the front door, like anyone else. And yet, being a rare sight in this city for the last years, he would most likely be treated as a stranger. Still, he'd take the chance, lunging off the roof of the tavern and walking straight through the door. The first thing that assaults him is the abundant aroma of alcohol that fills the air more than oxygen itself. "How pungent this place is. Argh, even my eyes are having trouble here!" he speaks out, amidst the clattering noise of the patrons. Jerry, however, had more difficulty, his eyes repeatedly trying to withstand the stingy air, still a tad too much for his kitten years.

Bentley, seeing this, walks back outside and lets his little cat down. "Now Jerry," he starts while focusing shadow on his index finger "I will have to leave you here since the alcohol presence seems too much for you." His finger elegantly traces on the ground, inscribing a sigil of shadows. "This will provide protection from harm," he continues as he places Jerry on top of the sigil, a shadow shape merging with the feline and distorting his shape to an almost shadow-like form. "Now, I feel like you want to go back to the lady. So, go ahead, you know the route. If anything happens, I'll be at your side to ward off any danger." The kitten's ears perk up at this and, with a jet of stone, runs to his master's finger to lick it profusely as thanks. "It's alright, little guy," he responds by petting his tiny head before Jerry runs off to the Oni he chased before. Bentley's gaze follows the agile feline running off through the mass of people before he disappears. He turns back to the tavern and swiftly steps in.

Though the odor still pollutes the area,  the black man blatantly ignores it, walking directly to the counter. Pairs of eyes follow him as he does so. Faint whispers trail on his back, more and more numerous coming from the patrons. Some express surprise as a thug-like individual, others wonder the reason for a rag to cover his face. Regardless, Bentley ignores all of them and sits on the counter stool, a butler dressed bartender walking to him from the storage. "Well, welcome here, stranger! Never seen a face like yours before, even less one hidden. What may I serve you?" Bentley gazes over the myriad of drinks available, cut in two sections, one for humans as well as one for monsters. "I take it the monsters drink are far stronger than the humans'?" he asks, the bartender looking at the menu as well "Indeed. In fact, if a human were to order for one of those, we'd make them sign a notice that they acknowledge they drink they command may not be for them." Bentley's eyes fixate a drink in particular. With his black leather hand, he points at the black bottle with a dagger inscribed on it "Give me the devil's poison."

The bartender bows down and proceeds to make the drink in front of him. As the command progresses, Bentley couldn't help but be impressed with the amount of dexterity and precision the man put in his mix. He respected any profession that required quick hands. Within a minute, his 'Devil's poison' stood before him, with a lime, courtesy of the house. "That will be 5 coins if you please." told the bartender as he cleans up his tools. Bentley puts down twice the amount, to the man's surprise "Hum, sir, there is ten coins on the table." Bentley plucks a straw from the side and promptly slurps down the drink "I know, consider that a regular occurrence from me. A gesture of appreciation for your quality."

The man warmly takes the coins and drags his own stool to by before his latest client "Well thank you kindly, sir. I'm greatly surprised by this, taking in the fact that your outfit is a bit intimidating. With no offense, of course." With a quick gesture, the bartender also prepares himself a drink. "None taken, I am aware I look like a ruffian looking for trouble. But do be at ease, for I only look as so," he replies as his drink progressively fades. "I'm guessing you must be some sort of bounty hunter or something like that. That drink you took has some black coal used to dampen the drink. To keep the mind sharp." Bentley nods, as a response, his 'Devil's poison' now empty. "Yes, it is. In fact, this is why I'm here." The bartender raises an eyebrow "Oh really? I do hope I won't be the unwilling accomplice of a hit." Bentley dismisses his worries with a sway of the hand "No, nothing like that. I'm just searching for someone." Their conversation getting as serious as it is, the background noise begins to drown out, with the two focusing on each other's words.

"Someone you say? And for what purpose would you be searching for said person?"

"Well, I need to deliver something to him. From an admirer."

"An admirer? How strange. Is said admirer too shy to do it by themselves?" the bartender questions, a bit curious about the masked man's answer.

"Well, let's just say she has a lot of her plate. She was here a few hours ago," he adds.

"Here you say? Interesting you say it's a woman. Since no human woman ever go here, I'm guessing you're talking about a monster?"

"Well, yes." Bentley takes a second to look at the other patrons. He sees a myriad of men and their drinks, but not a single woman is spotted. "I see."

"Yep, this is a tavern, where men go to relax and drink. As for the monsters, I think we both know why they're here," continues the bartender.

"Yea, it's no surprise."

"Well anyway, I take it the monster for whom you might be doing this is that poor girl called Jen, right?"

"So that's her name..." Bentley muttered "I guess. Is she blue-skinned with a yellow singular horn on her forehead with glasses on?"

"Yes, yes that's her. Poor her. Her sisters and her gang relentlessly berate her for her way of life," the barman laments.

"Yes, I could see that. But anyway, have you heard of what her sweetheart might be? I've only got a nickname, unfortunately."

"Hmm, I do hear her talk about him when she quietly sobs, about the many things she can't bring herself to confess. Alas, I got nothing about his name for you."

"Drats!" Bentley lets out, a bit disappointed about this lead up to nothing. "Well, would you at least happen to have a bit of information about where he might be living?"

"Well," the barman gets up and walks in a circle "I did hear from one of her continuous sobbings that it was a burden for her to be so far from him. That his district was lodged at the extreme right of the city."

"The extreme right you say?" Bentley makes mental notes of this "So, he might be in the industrial district."

"Oh yes, this might be it, seeing that there is nothing but that on the right side of the city."

"Well, this will be helpful. Has she said anything else about him? His profession? His exact address? HIs daily planning?"

"Only that he's in the chemistry area, unfortunately. Apologies for not being able to provide more than that," the barman bowed down.

"It's fine. You have brought much more than what it appears. I thank you for that," Bentley bows as well before reaching for the door. However, the barman calls out to him "Will I see you again? You look like such a good man. It would be most good for me to greet you more often, mister...?" "Call me Bentley, without the mister, if you don't mind, " he retorqued with a sway of the hand "We'll see each other again, it's about time I've begun visiting the local areas." The barman nods "I'm Marco, by the way." The man in black nods as well, before making his presence null, with a swift exit.

Bentley walks out of the 'Ol' stool', mental notes of their conversation etched deep in his brain. His outfit becomes transparent as he cloaks himself. He speedily climbs the wall up to the roof and makes his way to the Oni's house. Jen's house. They resurge in his mind, The location, the possible line of the profession he might be doing. The place where he might be staying with the info he gathered from. As he hops from cover to cover, his mind wonders, deep inside his psyche. The one sentence that has always peaked from within, constantly repeating it's everlasting question. It creeps closer, traveling as a whimper to a full-fledged echo. It peers at him, with the same question it has always asked [How many times have I done this? How many people did I gather like that? Why do I do such thing? I've nothing to gain from these actions I commit, yet I cannot help myself from doing so. Tell me, why am I doing this? Why...]

As his mind dwell in his thoughts,  he scarcely notices the advance of the day, the sun's position high above the city, indicating noon. By then, half of the way to his objective had already been traveled by foot. His ambient thoughts had by then returned to the dark pit that was his mind as he soon made eye contact with Jen's dwelling. Reaching the secluded location, he soon notices the entrance. The door, previously bashed in half. Bentley lands before it, to inspect it. A new door now stands painted in white, where the old one used to be. "I guess she has someone doing things like that, seeing how this appears to be a regular thing," he speaks quietly while looking up the window.

His ears pick nothing coming from the room within. With a swift motion, he jumps, his hands grabbing the handle of the window frame and pulls up, just enough for his head to peak through. A large form still slumps in the bed. On top of it, a black fur shakes left and right. "Sleeping I see. Well, enjoy that," he whispers before dropping his grip, his fall softens by the surrounding grass. His body shifts to the right as his gaze ascends to the sky.

Several chimneys spew out trails of smoke like a group of scarfs riding the wind. The industrial district, his next location. Despite his long stay in this city, he had yet to explore it all, continually discovering something new at each week or month. Small scale things, like the tavern he just walked in. Or the countless narrow streets filled with people. The overwhelming amount of festivals this city often celebrates due to the rich diversity of its inhabitants. Bentley had learned to prepare for the unexpected like that. However, this time, the  unexpected will take quite a bit of time to untangle his path and deliver a major piece. He began running towards the batch of smoke, his outfit flapping in the wind.

The air is slightly thicker with smoke than the usual clear skies, yet it does not provide a sufficient amount particles to outright choke someone out. Pipelines and open chimneys populate the area, as the higher skies dwell in a mist of gray and black. A number of people walk the streets, all dressed lighter than the average man, due to the immense heat. While the ambient air is filled with hot particles, the place is not veiled by said smoke. Yet, as Bentley lands on one of the pipes, he feels like he is concealing a furnace. HIs black and damp outfit certainly is the cause of this.

"So, this is the industrial district," he says, looking at the many pipelines vomiting the mass smoke "They must clean the air very often here since I've never noticed such a concentrated pack of atmospheric pollution." Indeed they do, for at the end of each day, a pack of harpies, attuned with science and magic fly over the damp skies of their furnaces and exhaust pipes. They release some sort of neutralizer, one not only ridding the air of the pollutant but really feeding on it, like a tree would with carbon dioxide before turning it into clean air for the people.

Something he will learn, in time. Right now, his eyes scourge amidst the streets riddled with workers of all form. Construction, reparation, maintenance, handling. Every sort of worker in the field can be detected and identified, but none in the practical profession he's looking for. Bentley travels over the pipes, incessantly twitching his eyes left and right. He slowly wanders deeper in the districts. The pipelines begin decreasing in numbers while establishments appear slowly but surely. As it was with the workers he saw, all of the buildings are radically different from each other, yet they all look like they work in synergy. As he progresses, they begin to look more elaborate. Some look like supply wares, others look like resting nests while the ones in the back had the sophisticated aesthetics of laboratories. Wait, laboratories? Bentley makes a complete stop. He remembers what the barman's info about 'Caster' profession. A chemist. "Jackpot!" Bentley's eyes squint in anticipation while his gaze longs the lab complex.

Watching from a lonely exhaust chimney that momentarily ceased spewing out its fumes, he observes the complex. Compared to the rest, it's outer structure appears cleaner and whiter. Magitech prevalences this place, yet the entrances are surprisingly devoid of any type of security. Makes a bit of sense considering that the village is knee-deep in a monster territory. "Well, this certainly makes things easy. A tad too easy, but hey, I'm not complaining," he snarkily points out, with one foot dangling in the great fall that precedes him. With a small weight shift, he falls forward. His drop speed before his shape fades within the smoke.

A trail of concentrated smoke falls down with Bentley's body down an isolated street, gradually fading away while he lands on the ground, knees and palms slamming the concrete under him. He glances at it "Well, that was a higher drop than I had expected." His body turns dark and gains transparency, gradually working out the edges of his light reflecting cloak technique. His eyes are the last things to be seen before they eventually close. He walks towards the laboratory, expecting at least ten minutes of pace before reaching the front doors. Ten minutes to think about what he will do when inside and how he will search for his target.

This is a place unknown to him, full of paths leading to unknown direction, an unknown number of personal and no indication of where his man might be stationed at. He thinks it over and decides to head for a hidden shaft or secluded way that connects to the whole complex. Meaning he'd have to find another path away from the front door. Bentley notices a few lab-coats also making their way here, mixes of humans and monsters. He'd have to be more careful, as to not spill too much spirit energy with his cloak.

The front doors are at an arm's reach, yet he strafes to the right, feet forming a soft sound as they step over the concrete. His entrance door comes as a grate nested several meters above. He proceeds to climb up near the thing to inspect it. The bolted shaft is large enough to allow him entrance, but barely. Seeing how a moderate gust of wind is exiting it, it would seem that the narrow space inside is either an oxygen displacer for the people inside or a toxic fume filter. On that regard, he'd have to take his chance.

As for the grate itself, while it is bolted down, the bolts are somewhat weak. "Easy work for my master pick," he whispers while flipping his pouch open to grab the required tool. Within a few seconds, the grate is loose and ready to pry open. He does so, slowly, to avoid attracting any attention, even as no one seemed to notice, what with the grate located on the right side of the building, rarely visited by anyone. He grabs hold of the thin plate and scurries inside the vents, shifting himself to place the thing back on its spot. He moves forwards.

Now within the ventilation, his cloak becomes unnecessary and drips from him like a black murky water. "One thing down, another to care for." With a black ink finger, he inscribes a sigil under his weight. He recites a mantra [With the Fleeting Retreat, my life is assured, for a cry of distress will displace me to my haven~!] The mark briefly ignites in a bright red before becoming silent, now engraved upon the ventilation he rests in. His eyes look forward and his crawl, albeit slow, moves him further. "Ugh, this place is so narrow. My body certainly isn't helping much it would seem," he speaks with the outer edges of his corporal form hug the ventilation's extreme corner. While it was a hassle for him to slither through, his training as a thief made it much easier to endure it, whereas an average man could easily have beenglued to its edges, grasping for air.

Regardless, he comes to his first shaft with openable binds. Well, openable is largely subjective, since there is no manual way to do so. With his fingers, the encapsulated man manages to force them open, if only by a little, so he may peer at the room. His eyes look left and right, seeking someone out. "Empty." No soul in the room was spotted, save for a jacket. Well, more like a lab coat, if one were to know.Right now, he wants to continue moving but keeps eyeing the spare coat. A singular bar is decorating the left side of the front, written on with black ink. His eyes squint a bit just to be able to see it more clearly. A name is written. 'Reiner Roy'. His eyes slightly widen for a second before regaining composure. "A name tag? Good, this will ease my search," he breathes out in relief, crawling ever forward.

Reaching the next room, he finds it crawling with people inside, likely experimenting with various gadgets. "Seems I've found the utility room, but no chemicals here." He decides to screen the name tags of every person around. Of the six people in, none even comes close to the one he seeks. He resumes his path and reaches yet another room. From the binds, he observes the scene. Pentagrams cover the walls and floor of this section. "I must be in the experimental segment," he mutters while he watches a man standing in the middle of the room, shirtless. His chest is riddled with runic painting  as well as his arms. "Hmm, what do we have here? Experimental runes for humans?" Bentley had seen a panoply of things throughout his assignments as a Shadowman. Many strange things that would have most likely crept out others. And yet, even he couldn't help but find it odd that experimental tests melding monster magic with humans were being conducted in a place so close. But, his questioning completely dashed the board the moment he saw an amazon enter the room. "Of course..." he sighs as said lady walks over to the nervous tattooed man. He fidgets while riding a finger through a part of his rune until the amazon gently takes hold of his hand and suddenly pokes him with her other hand's finger. The surface glanced by her immediately reacts, purple energy flowing through this tattoo part, while the subject's face twists into one of extreme satisfaction. "...pleasure runes," he adds as the man collapses from the sheer amount of pleasure provided by said rune. The amazon, witness to this, makes a grin, obviously more than happy with the current results. She picks him up, still slightly spazzing ~You've been a good boy for the ladies in coats. Tonight, I will devote myself to you, darling!~ She nuzzles the lad, not noticing two women clad in coat approaching. Of course, neither of these two could be the one he searched for, seeing as they were of the opposite gender. They were probably here to conclude or expand whatever they are doing here, something Bentley wouldn't pay any more attention since he had already left.

"Onto the third room he was to bear witness to a gem room. A litter of gem crafting tools lingered about the place. From the ventilation, even he could see their application, what with the ludicrous amount of unrefined ores. "I have to say, it's is normal to search for new forms of everything, but these people seem to go the extra mile for that," he says as some warp the area around them while others seemed to attempt creating their own ecosystem with life energy. Though the most curious phased in and out of reality. While one might come to the conclusion that they were trying out new weapon methods, the man tolling in the air duck had a different opinion, ever lacking truly malicious monsters met in his path before. This would probably serve to establish easier ways of life or seek out uncharted knowledge. Perhaps. Right, the important part was that there were no one to try to identify.

His pace would march forward, yet a set of half-crafted jewels caught his eyes. He didn't know what they were, but just looking at them make him lose a bit of focus. More precisely, it was as if his own Spirit Energy was being siphoned by the gallon, though he could sense a tiny fraction actually being taken. "How can those even think of leeching off my mana reserve like that? I'm not even close to them," he spoke out in surprise while a small fragment of his shadow traveled to the set. "Peculiar." As interested he was, his primary task took place in the center of his mind. He carries on, thinking that this would not be the last time he saw those around.

How much time had passed since he toiled in the air duck? The man scurried about like an enormous black rat, ever ignorant of how close his main goal was. Sweat now riddled his entirely. Were it not of the constant afflux of wind, the smell certainly would have become grossly odorant. He was aware if this. Carrying on further, he reaches a room full of vials. Just the sight of these makes his heart jump for a second "At last, the main pieces maybe amidst the decoys." He looks through the blinds of the air ducks but sees no one. Bentley waits, silent in the caress of wind. 10 minutes pass. Then 20. 30 more will come to pass before he detects a solitary soul walking through the door, lab coat bore upon the back. The eyes shrouded behind the tiny blinds lock at the figure, checking every ounce of the space on the man. Namely, they seek a tiny name tag, plastic, and ink.

The object hides underneath the inner coat, covered by the other half. A nice try at its end, one that, alas could not evade the gaze of a thief. He catches a fleeting clarity of the tiny tag. 'Jordan Caster'. 'Caster'. The hidden eyes bend in jubilee, a tattered smile festering behind the mask "Found you..!" His body calls for celebrations, yet reason keeps him anchored to the one he searched for. He lies still, his mind stirring to a predatory stalker motion. He would become this man's shadow, walking every step his quarry would make. He observes...

The day progressively decays to the evening, shining through the cold and quiet blinds of the solitary window, the one to outside. Bentley listened to the man's rambling, as it was customary for him to take an interest for his quarries' set of mind. Normally to gather info on the very mundane personalities and certain patterns he could observe to then devise a plan taking account of everything he had spotted, to turn the target's very daily motions against it. And in that sense, this was what he does, hiding away far from prying eyes, taking mental notes. Jordan Caster, a far cry from Bentley's latest tagged 'victim', Jonah, had a much more confident and, dare he thought, eccentric behavior. His jab cut straight, in his work and, from what he could see and relate on former quarries, his personal life.

This one could be easier to work with, provided he could find a way in the man's insight. Despite the noted enthusiastic aura mr. Caster glowed with, it was pretty evident that none of this was present for all to see. "Like someone tasked with moral, you seek to keep a happy demeanor. Yet I sense your aching exhaustion. The weight of your profession has surely stripped you of anything to look up. Yes, your body aches for rest." He continues observing the man mixing product with product. Exotic materials stood by the counter, soon exhausted by late evening. With the last feather rubbed to a murky glowing aura, the last experimentation finished and the final scrap of data noted, Jordan Caster sighs in a moment of relief with the room dimming down.

another failed attempt. How long until she reaches this city?" Jordan muttered, playing with a fork on the table, as his meal cooks over the chimney. She? Bentley thinks that sentence over. Obviously, he was not referring to the Blue Oni with a spot for him. Must be someone out of town. He takes note of that and observes the young man.

Jordan Caster, a chemist at his beginning. His hair is pointing up, as it is with stereotypical scientists. He's a bit thinner than the average man, but nothing significant to spot. His blue eyes are decked with frontal glasses, one with a small scope, to slightly zoom over. Precision works probably. His skin is a bit whiter than the usual, but with the location of his work, it's not surprising, seeing as barely any sunlight is able to enter. His clothes consist of a simple attire of baggy brown pants and a hooded long sleeved shirt of the same color. The room reflects his current sentiment of abject failure, being seldom decorated with vague scientific affiliated documents and objects.

Jordan gets up and gathers his meal from the chimney doubled as spitroast. He walks back to the table and begins munching down. The evening outside had turned into the night, the darkness covering all in a blanket of black. Save for the fire cracking within the walls and the occasional clash of steel and ceramic, his plate and fork, nothing could hope to escape the destitute that was the silence of the night. An hour passes, without a word from him. His stalker does nothing to shatter the silence. Jordan has his eyes closed. His picking motion with the fork is still.

He seems to be in thought with his head nudge down forward. He takes a hand to gently grasp the other's wrist. It motions a circle around it, stimulating a massage. His face, hidden by a thin cloak of night, utters a groan between stroke. His back crooked to the front. His fingers had delays in movement. Bentley could really see the ravage work had bestowed upon him. Somehow, the chemist known as 'Caster' had been able to pretend none of this was afflicting him in any sense.

Was he really that oblivious to his crippling ill-being? Or, did he perhaps chose to ignore it, focusing on the project he worked at? Whichever the case, he had a lot of willpower to be able to do such thing. To be able to mask the growing fatigue from assumed failure and possible overwork from others, to be able to keep an upbeat attitude despite those becoming more prevalent. Indeed, that is a rare quality, to discard oneself for the sake of keeping the others worry-free...

One that, unfortunately, isn't eternal. Even with the greatest amount of benevolence and willpower, the body could not keep up the charade of keeping one's mask tacked to the face. Eventually, it will decay and wither away, leaving the person in a disarrayed state. And by the looks of things, Caster had been bearing his mask for a very long time. [How long have you been keeping this facade? Your corporal shell seeks relief, yet you seem blind to it...]

He lowers his head, his sight of the pondering man away for a moment. His eyes are blurry, his body, stiff. He seems to be held in a distant memory, or in the fermenting of a plan. Whatever it is, the thin stream occupying his mind is cut loose as he hears Caster stands up from his seat, with the squeaking chair pushed afar by his back. "Well, hopefully, the next week will see success withing my sight," he speaks in an energetic tone. His plate flips in a hasty manner while walking to the kitchen and in a few second, it garnishes the counter with the rest of the dishes, water droplets dripping away.

Water spills profusely and spills onto the square shaped wooden floor as two naked feet slap their imprints on the wetting surface. Jordan Caster has barely taken the time to dry himself out after the shower that he is already prancing to his room, ever the more under the eye of his unsuspecting observer, crouching in every dark corner available. Only in here, does the process of removing every ounce of liquid from the surface of his skin. "All done," he yells out, his towel fallen softly on the floor and himself laying on his bed. Bentley watches, literally beside him, his cloak ever the more active. [He really IS somewhat of an optimistic], he thinks, watching the man rambling about visiting the center district. While he did so, he moved a bit, being still in the same position for quite a bit of time. But, as it turned out, his side waist bumped on the small stool he failed to notice was standing beside the corner he hid with.

The stool tumbled and made the papers on it fall on the ground. Caster's head stood up instantly "What was that?" His eyes lock on the tumbling stool, his feet departing the bed. He slowly approaches the corner, unaware of the man faded within. Mere feet away from colliding with him, Jordan simply picks his papers up and puts them back on the stool. He smiles a bit, then turns back to his bed, yet he senses a faint presence.

He turns back but sees nothing. This feeling in his stomach is quaint, yet present. He thinks someone may be at his residence. While the first spike of subtle worry does tingle throughout his body, the following one cools his rising panic down, like a tranquil river bed slowly coursing through his veins. His mind is split between the fight or flight reaction and an urge to speak out. Bentley looked down at him, understanding too well that he may have been found out. His hands merge together, while a tiny specter of dark begins to occupy his fingers. His recall spell, the one option that comes to mind, is what he focuses on bringing out. [How did I screw this up!?] he berates himself [A basic blunter no less.] His dark spreads across his fingers to envelops his hidden hands. The area around him becomes dark, while the place didn't change at all. No, rather, his personal space was in the process of invasion of darkness. It reaches his eyes, even as the man he observed was still weighing his options in the possibility that someone was in his very room. His stalker was almost out, completely covered in dark. The cloak kept a strong hold on his body, ensuring nothing escaped into the material world. He took a hand to the ceiling, his spell nearly done. "Is...is someone here?" resonated throughout the room. Bentley had heard it.

He halts his recall beacon and lowers his hand, fixing the owner of the residence. "Is there is anyone here. Whoever you are, please come out!" Jordan continues, now searching the room for every hiding spot. Be it under the bed, his wardrobe, behind his door and more, he searches, but find nothing. He goes back to his bed but sits on it instead of laying down on it. It seems knowing someone is around robbed him of his sleep. "Seeing how I'm not hearing any drawers being opened nor falling objects throughout the apartment, I'm guessing you're not here to steal anything?" He adds, putting his glasses on the miniature table beside his bed.

"Then I guess you have been listening to me rambling on about? Hehehe..." he blabbers a bit, getting into a more comfortable position. "Well, are you here to listen to me?" Bentley couldn't believe how off the grid he was with this simple observation turned into an unsolicited contact. He let himself submerged in his mind, as a refuge. [So, do I talk to him, ignore his words to make him think there no one here or do I retreat for another day?] he pondered, while his eyes, locked on the man, could see his growing expectation. Eyes straying left and right with a glimmering hope of seeing a movement, he eagerly wanted an input from his so-called intruder...

Minutes pass, a dozen in the process. A paper, one of those he picked up before, somehow abruptly floats in the air and stays afloat for seconds. The height it went is what one would expect to go for it to be readable. Jordan Caster watches in amazement as a singular ink spot appears on the other side of the paper, so much that his feet bounce up, changing his sitting position to a standing one. As he did,however, the piece of paper turned itself to a horizontal state. "Huh?" was what he couldn't help but let out while noticing the thing spinning with great velocity towards him. His hands immediately move in front of his face as a reaction, only to feel the thing gently lay on his chest. He looks at it, full of curiosity. A singular word adorns the front of the page: 'Proceed'

"Well, you could have simply said so, but sure," he responds, sitting back on his bed. For the rest of the night, he spoke. The subject of his train of thoughts being spilled out to a stranger was his latest project, more importantly, his lack of progress. He repeatedly insists on the time he has been working on that, which was for 5 months straight. He mentions knowing that his health and usually joyful attitude has gone a bit sour. That he has been less than approachable for quite a while. [It was that bad? Hmm, no wonder this place feels so cold.] Bentley thinks to himself, never the less keeping his ears fixated to the worn-out chemist who briefly tells him that he has two more months to craft a working 'Drink of Love', for she would greatly appreciate it. She? Bentley has the unrelenting urge to ask him about said person he worked so much to craft such a thing. Surely, to be allowed to work extensively on one thing in a research lab means that whoever this was must be someone important.

Yet, he kept his silence, as the man dragged on about his decaying demeanor. The more he spoke about, the more tired he became, as bearing such a weight upon oneself for months without end can be tiresome. His will to stay awake faltered ever more with every second. His speech became punctuated with yawns. [He won't last more than a minute or two] Bentley thought to himself, as the man then went on what he had not expected: others. He spoke briefly about the people surrounding him and how apparently they supported him in his endeavor, seemingly understanding of his nature of work.

A minute passed, and his vision became ever more blurry, the land of dreams calling out to him. "I do thank you for listening to what I've had to say, whoever you are," he let out, gradually leaning on his bed "It's been a while since anyone has ever listened to my troubles. At that state, I needed to let it out to anyone. I'm glad you were here, shadow." [Shadow? Is that what he intends on calling me now?] Bentley thinks, his eyes in a confused state [He must have seen a glimpse of my aborted spell.] Jordan's head muffled the pillow that adorned his bed. "It sure would be nice *yawn*, if I've had someone like you to listen. Someone *yawn* gentle. Someo--" he fell asleep, unable to continue any further.

His snoring envelops the bedroom, with Bentley uncloaking after many minutes, to see whether he really was sleeping. He walks over to the dreaming chemist, a small grin beyond his mask. He sees the man sleeping soundly, albeit from a pretty uncomfortable position, with one leg out of the bed, an arm under his chest and the window opened. The man in black does what he does best: looking out for his next man. He promptly and effortlessly lifts the deeply sleeping man up with a single hand, while his other rips out the  first layer of the sheet. Then, as easily as he lifted him, he slowly lays him, in a less straining position on the bed, before covering his body up to his neck.

He looked once more at the dreamer, noticing a faint smile upon his face. He kneels down and slips a hand under the cover, to rejoin Jordan's right hand. He lowers his head. A singular whisper briefly joins the snoring "Don't worry. You will find that someone. She already has found you after all..." He takes his hand away and sits beside the bed. Sounds of unfolding paper quickly echoed. He holds the paper he 'borrowed' from that Oni Jen a while ago. It's etched with many corrections, erased works and more. Yet, when he had read it, he felt heartwarming for a few minutes. Had it not been for his training, he would, like any other man, have fallen for her. Yet he kept his heart at a distance. He takes another look at the sheet:


 * I have seen you walk upon the place where I work,--

You had spotted me, greeted me, taken precious time out of your own, for someone else,

I was heart warmed, began looking forward to our daily conversation,

The more we spoke, the more I felt entangled to you,

My heart laid bare ever closer to your,

Yet I felt no connection from you,

For first, I thought you thought differently,

I sought to visit you, where you spend the day,

They told me you were busy,

I pleaded them to, to make amends,

They let me through, for me to prance,

To the furthest room, where I could see your presence,

I looked beyond the window, hoping to see my own,

Yet what bewildered my eyes was a tired man,

One walked to me and told me in,

They unfolded the truth of your path,

How pained you were, stranded in your effort,

How your ears were blotted out by the task,

Your eyes narrowed down on this endeavor,

Your mouth, unceasing the carnage of assumed failures,

Your touch atrophied to any's but your own,

And your taste, grown dull from gray nutriments,

My heart swells from this ceaseless carnage,

My body prompts me to envelop you,

Yet I cannot, for my kin forbids this act of tender,

How I wish to take it upon myself, to cradle you,

To take it upon me to rest your overburdened head over my ocean lap,

For the stress to seep away, far from  you overburden body,

To nurse your decaying state, to calm your spiked mind,

...your soul...*

The night goes on, tiny pitched noises of ink and feather tapping over and over a pristine piece of paper, occasionally stopping just for a shadowy head, at the foot of the bed, to lift itself back to the snoring Jordan. It keeps his sight on him for a few seconds before resuming his writing. The words, beautifully written. The page, decorated with a black armory insignia, fitting of a royal letter. Every word was considered and stylishly produced, to make the greatest impact it could. The twilight that dances outside gives away the gentle light of the moon, sparkling any object, or being that shares the same trait of color. As such, the letter he had finally finished began glowing as much as the natural satellite watching over the earth.

The glow gracefully hovers on the surface of said piece of paper, with tiny light spots floating around it, to such a degree that the room became a bit more lighted. Bentley steps back from the letter, to admire it from a few meters away. It was now radiant, especially when he took the crumbled version and stared down at it. "Hehe, good thing infiltration isn't the only thing I'm good at," he speaks softly before suddenly turning to the bed. Shifting left and right, the sleeper seemed disturbed by the glimmering beacon at his name. One of his eyes, within a struggle to keep a connection to his dream slowly opened to the outer world, attracted by the fluorescent moonlight.

The singular paper garners his hazy attention. His groggy half-awake state fumblingly pulls his feet out of the bed, swinging down as they reach the floor. They then slowly begin to make their way, tumbling left and right toward the paper. He soon finds himself at reaching range and grabs hold of it. Amazingly, his common sense does not kick in, due to his brain still within a half-dream. He kneels down and finally starts reading it...

A minute passes. Then two. Three add to the mix. And then four make way. He reads the letter, again and again, his ocular vision slightly wider, by sheer shock. Even in his sleepy state, he can't believe what is before him. His locomotive motor at last kicks in, encouraged by the moonlight. He scans the page one more time, gasping with each sentence. One of his hand subconsciously slaps the left side of his head, hard. His teeth respond with a grin, one of fleeting pain. "W-What is this? Where did this come from? Why do I feel it weighing down on my soul?" A firm tug conceals his chest, brought by his own hand, who had left his left cranium. He couldn't help it, the fingers colliding with each other. Another sharp pain comes to his nervous system, prompting out a small grunt. He feels that, yet the physical pain can't quite match the psychic one. Bentley watches the scene with interest, but no surprise. His hands crossed, he squints his eyes a bit, seeing the same scene he had ever seen before.

When one realizes that they have essentially forfeited their life to work. Locked away in their ceaseless decay, in an attempt to obtain their fruition, unaware of their wrecked state. Ignorant of the stares of distress the close ones have upon them. Unaware that the obsession they have for their profession is leaking on the surrounding people, and hurting them. For humans, it is with a great sense of powerlessness that they watch. For a monster, and especially a loving one, the agony is heightened to tenfold, as the well-being of the significant half is their butter and bread. Bentley watches the man understand, with a lonely letter, that he had been giving that feeling to his surrounding workmates. To his friends. To his family. And most importantly, to her, Jen. The one that time after time, has tried thwarting his unhealthy decadence...

...and failed...

He, who had always placed importance on placing laughter and smile on the others, had done the absolute opposite for the last 5 months. 5 months. The epiphany hits him as a sledgehammer would, his hands, grasping his chest like he came down with a heart attack. Bentley merely watched, feeling no need to intervene, but his empathy drive positioning him for an intervention. The man collapses down, staring down, droplets falling from his eyes. The first that fell since those months. "I've...I've been leading a careless lifestyle... and they are paying for it." He groans, his feet kicking in automatic as they lift his feeble body. He lets them do as they please, a sole thought in mind.

The door opens with a creak. Soft steps disturb the twilight outside, Jordan ever closer to the bathroom. He gradually enters, his eyes turned to the mirror, his body doing the same. He unbuttons his night shirt. It falls off, like an anchor, exposing his bare chest to the reflection. He takes a long hard look and sees someone. He sees a man with a very shriven chest, as well as the stomach. He sees a man who's skin has turned away from his usual peach to a deep, sickly white. He sees a man with swollen eyes lodged at the back of his skull, with fatigue pockets garnishing it's lower section. His fingers, barely present, absent of the lively color within his nails. His hair, dull and still from the decaying body. He sees all of this...but...

"I can't see myself anymore", he utters, with a weak sobbing making it's way up to his face. He does not stop it and cries over the sink. Bentley observes, his eyes now full of compassion. Still hidden by his cloak, he places an invisible hand atop the sobbing Caster's shoulder, as if to comfort him. [He finally sees himself for the first time. It would seem my work will do more than uniting two souls], he thinks as he listens to the man, as he is unaware of the presence of a hand over him. His skin has gone that cold.

30 minutes pass. His cries, long ended, but not dissipated from his expression. He is sitting under his sink, ever wiping the leftover tears. He speaks once more "Shadow...shadow, are you here?" A soft knock occurs somewhere in the same room, as a response. "You're still here. I'm sorry you had to witness this. But you don't mind, do you? After all, you're the one that brought this, did you?" No sound confirmed this, he knew regardless. "You must think I'm a pathetic man for crying like this, after making the others' joy disappear, right? Crying at my pitiful state. Somehow, I think that even with that, you still offer compassion... I can feel it." An affirmative knock resonates. Bentley crosses his hands,  meditating the man's awareness [I knew he'd catch on with the letter, but not quite that quickly].

"Shadow, if you are aware of this unfortunate miss, that had to put up with my indifference, surely you must know where she lives". He stands up, with two clenched fists at his side. "If you wouldn't mind bending to this sad man's desire, I wish to meet the lady  on this weekend, where I won't be in the quarantine of my volition." His eyes close as his head nudges down. With the shout of a man, a single sentence makes way:

"I BEG OF YOU TO GUIDE ME TO HER!!!"

...

He remains standing, not sure of where whoever he was apparently speaking is. In fact, he didn't know if said listener was still around until whispers became audible in his ears as darkness slid up on the tile wall of ceramic cyan. It borrowed the shape of a star, then gradually deteriorated into tiny lines, shaping up as one sentence. A strident, but affirmative one.

'Walk my steps, and my shadow will guide you...'

Jordan was relieved. No, relief is an understatement for what he felt, seeing the inky message after the  unchained emotion session he just went through. He laughed, in pure relief "Thank you, thank you very much shadow! I'm very grateful of that. Maybe, just maybe I c-can st~art..." His speech is halted, the initial burst of energy from his misery depleted. He drops but is stopped by a pair of invisible hands, too deeply asleep to feel them. Bentley uncloaks, knowing full well the man won't wake up for a few more hours. He puts him on his left sleeveless shoulder and strolls back to the bedroom. Once more, he puts the sleeper on his bed, in a comfortable position and leaves, quiet footsteps wondering to the opened window. A display of agility, he extracts himself out of it and sits on the rooftop. He sighs a bit, going through the events that transpired in his mind. [I should be more careful, I'm getting spotted more easily], he thinks, while staring far in the city, as the moon is in its final stages before conceding its place to the sun. [Well, at least the puzzles are almost all fitted. I wonder how Jerry is doing with her. Well, we'll meet soon, at least.] He awaits the dawn, with a small vial of the 'Devil's dagger'. "This should help me punch through the last trail", he cheers himself on while he downs it and waits.

The morning rises, with rays of sun piercing the sky. Amazingly, there are no major clouds. Bentley, ever sleeping in his format Indian position, merely lifts his eyes up a bit, before lowering them, as to avoid eye contact with the sun. He stands up, one foot in the air, just beyond the roof's corner. His weight makes his drop, but his hands manage to grab the window where Jordan lives and drags him inside, cloaked once more. His body slithers around the room with surgeon precision, pushing to the corner, where he waits. Not long after, the dreamer awakes, with a draft of wind coming from the movement. His sleep recovery goes down much quicker as he scans the entirely of the room "Shadow? Shadow, are you here?" A knock occurs, giving the man a relieved sigh. He gets up and walks over to the bathroom "I'll be here in five, wait up please!" Bentley exits as well, pushing his behind on a sturdy chair of the kitchen. [Seems his recovery is already starting], he ponders, noting a more light-hearted tone of his voice.

Soon enough, the man is out with a casual attire. A sober brown suit, pants and charcoal shoes. A brown hat also decorates his head. He promptly walks out the door, looking behind back with a smile on his face. A warm one. He speaks "Shadow, I will follow you as soon as we,re outside. Please give me sings once we're outside." He shuts the door and his steps down the stairs echo back. Bentley simply runs back to the window and drops down.

He lands hard on the ground, just as Jordan had reached out to the outside door. He witnessed a loud thud, followed by tiny lines of shadows. "Shadow, that was quite the landing", he notes while breathing deeply into the morning, while others were still getting out of their homes. "My, what a fine day for an outdoor activity. Well, shadow, I am in your care now." Bentley nods, forgetting for a second the man can't see him. He approaches him and attaches a mud of shadow on the man's feet, prompting a shaky response. "Shadow, your hands are ticklish", he chuckles, seeing his feet briefly glow red before reverting. He looked on forward, awaiting.

Bentley began strolling, the shoes reacting to his pace. A shadow tendril hugging the asphalt ground stretches out, at the full sight of Jordan. "I see, that's how you will lead me. Interesting". He touches the tendril, receiving a soft sensation before seeing it go further. He follows it. As he did, he could witness the various things other did, welcoming such sight. It was as if this was the first time he ever had the time to bask in such mundane observation.

His walk leads him to a pub, the 'Ol' Stool'. He stops and looks down, seeing the tendril slithering inside the door. "Shadow, is this where I will meet her?" The tendril makes a repeat sway up and down before opening the door for him, a bench contaminated by dark. "I see. I hope you're right, then." He sits and takes in a soft drink, waiting. His nostrils are drenched in the smell of alcohol, yet he remains firm, believing a stranger could right his wrong. This strange had already left, planning his last part.

Bentley hopped roof to roof, seeking out the other one, the second main puzzle, Jen. With the speed he was going, even uncloaked, he would have looked more like a blur than a man. His travel lasted 2 minutes at the most as he lands softly on the grass in her yard in front of her kitchen window. He crouches and listens, but hears naught. A 10-second observation inside is all he needs to confirm she has yet to be awake. With that, he pulls out his lockpick and works on the window. It opens quickly and he jumps in.

With great caution, he makes his way to her bedroom, looking through the door's lock key. Her body is still snoring underneath the blanket. [Still sleeping huh? I wonder if Jerry is in as well], he deems as he slowly opens said door. He walks into an agreeable surprise, in the form of an adorable furball standing before said door, it's tail swinging left and right. Bentley kneels down, to pat the kitten. Instead, Jerry lifts his two frontal paws to meet his owner's hand and nudges his tiny head against the man's palm. "I missed you too, my little friend", he whispers while taking the kitten within his hands. He cuddles him, as he cuddles back, the two making sure not to emit any noise. A minute later, they stop, but Bentley still holds him. "Mr.Jerry, our task is almost done, but I need you to lead her to the pub. It's very important", he asks of his companion. Jerry looks back at the bed and then returns his stare to his holder. He does this a few times. "Good, you may begin now, I will supervise the thing from above". Bentley places him on the bed before he fades away, leaving Jerry to initiate what every cat like doing to garner attention from their owners...

He meows softly, the pitch increasing in frequency. Jen sits straight up with a swift gesture, looking around to locate the source of the noise with a frenzied stare. Her eyes set down on the kitten that is looking back  and hers soften up "Ohh, it was you. Is there something wrong?" Jerry jumps down the bed and points to the door while looking back at her. "Ohh, you want to get out? Sure, hold on", she says with her hand picking up her glasses. Removing the sheet, she follows the unusual enthusiast kitten to the bathroom with a set of clothes to change into, a simple skirt and shirt, both in gray.

She comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed, only for Jerry to run out the house, making her chase him "W-wait! Don't go running out like that!" He ignores her plea and goes out with an Oni tailing him. "Hold on! You may get hurt running like that!" she says again. An enormous amount of dust pile up behind her. Those in front may want to move out of the way unless they feel like getting bodied by a sprinting superwoman. Bentley observed the whole scene from atop a roof. He had not expected his kitten to take the most direct route of the way. But it worked. The hunt was going exactly where he wanted it to go.

Strafes left and right, a path left to broken vases and tumbled people, the kitten was close to his final destination. Jen, however, had no idea of what lingered in his head as flipped pedestrians and crashed objects filled the surrounding air in her ears. "Sorry! I'm very sorry--CRASH-- Apologies!" was most of her dialogue every time she turned her head toward the disgruntled, only to quickly snap back to the mischevious feline, always one step ahead of her. At one point, he had taken a wrong turn, cornered into a dead-end, with Jen panting but triumphant. "There you are! Now, stay right here..." she demands, slowly walking to him, her hands in front, ready to grasp the feline "...and let me take you bAAAAAC-

Thump!

She slips, giving Jerry time to swiftly run around her back to his route, but after overseeing a strange man with an oil bottle over the roof, pointing back. He chuckled a bit, as Jen spat out the oil that had infiltrated her mouth. She turned, seeing her little friend running off, and quickly went after him, dusting herself off all the more from the excessive oil.

For the next 10 minutes, they run, one chasing down the other. She could feel Jerry was running out of stamina, for his movement became a bit more cluttered every time he escaped her clutches. His pace became slower, his ears down. He could no longer run and stopped in front of a door. Jen is right behind him, surprisingly not exhausted since her Oni metabolism allows her such sprints. While she did feel proud to catch up to him with as little exhaustion as she caught, her mind kept it's train of thought as she kneels down to sweep the kitten. "Oh my Demon Lord, are you ok? You're not injured, are you?" her hand scouts most of his tiny body, searching for any region that may have been injured. He meows happily, as a lack of said injury.

Relieved at this, Jen's gentle gaze turns into a scolding one "Why did you run off like that? You should know better than to just wonder around!" Jerry, while a bit ashamed that the chase ended as such, took a look up. He could recognize the board overhead. The 'Ol' Stool'. He switches to the door and meows while clawing the door, to Jen's utmost surprise. "What is it? Someone inside you know?" she asks, intrigued by his insisting clawing and meowing. "Hey, hey! What's wrong, little fella?" she asks once more, only for him to stare back at her while tapping the door. Her head lifts away from his sight to look at the door. She thought maybe his owner was inside, or someone close to him. With a swift hand motion, she opens the door...

...only to be met with a familiar figure sitting on the bar stool, besides a man dressed in black and another with a sweatshirt. All had a drink in hand, yet the one with the brown attire was the only one interested into seeing who had entered. His face lit up with surprise as well, to the point of almost dropping his drink. The two look at each other while Jerry sneakily wanders off to the black dressed man's side. They stare without saying a word. Both of them happen to have a bit of a blush on their cheeks. None dared to say anything, the two too shocked to be able to. One of the two men drinking besides Jordan, accidently leans back, pushing him forward as a result. He trips, dropping his mug. His reflexes prompt him to put his hands in front of his face, his teeth grinning for the impending pain.

A soft pair of hands grabs his arms, his fall interrupted. He looks back her, a fleeting worry leaving her face "Ohh, you're fine. I-I'm glad!" she exclaims, a brighter blush on her face. Jordan steadies his footing while a 'sorry' sneaks in his ears from behind. He nods and looks back at her "I didn't think I'd meet you here, madam." He takes her hands with his, a more serious stare at them. "So he did bring you here. I outta pay him back", he mutters. The friction from his finger passing over her palms is soothing, yet confusion he riddled on her face "He? Who's he?" Jordan snaps out of his thought. "Nothing miss, it's fine!" He gulps down to her pristine eyes looking deep into him. They hold hands for quite a bit of time, with the orchestrator literally beside them, watching his plan unfold, accompanied by the barman, who found the scene interesting. "Good sir", he whispers ,"was he the one you searched for?" Bentley stealthily nods back with a finger positioned on his masked face, the barman nodding back in silence.

"Madam, did you mean everything that letter spoke about?" he bluntly asks. Her reaction is instant, to say the least. While the man in black had been busy tracking down mister Caster, Jen had been rummaging her house down, searching for a singular paper, the one he made off it. She though that piece had ended up in the trash bin or lost in her residence. She tried feigning ignorance "P-paper? W-what paper? I didn't w-write any paper!" Jordan takes one of his hand off of hers into one of his pockets. Seconds pass as her heart thumps like a boxer practicing on a sand bag. He pulls out a folded paper and places it on her free hand. "Read it. You'll know what I mean." Jen removes her other hand from his, a lingering thought of regret from that burrowed in her mind while it focuses on the unfolding letter from her.

The first thing that strikes her is how beautifully decorated the note is. Almost mesmerizing. Then, her eyes fall on what she actually wrote, albeit with someone else's handwriting. As she reads the thing, deeper shades of red invade her cheeks. Present, bright, and most of all refusing to leave. Jordan notices the fluster Jen is going through reading what she wrote and reminds himself of those very words. Soon enough, he is found blushing just as much as she is. She stops, steaming profusely while instinctively grabbing her skirt. She breathes in heavily and lifts her cyan eyes back at him, still unnerved but oddly calm. The storm of feelings she had put in her writing, locked and hidden had all spilled onto him with the one she held. There was no more reason to try and hide anything. Her deeper emotions took hold.

"Yes. Yes, it's all true. Everything I've written in this letter is what I feel about you, my kind sir". Her face portraits a serene expression of a maiden who had fallen in love. For her, it was all over again. Taking hold, she grabs his hands a second time, but with a more obvious tenderness. Jordan found himself being the flustered one this time "Madam?" He turned away, trying to avert his stare away from her, out of timidity. Bentley notes that this may have been due to the man's cold shoulder he had kept on for months. He had yet to learn to cope with such feelings, those that none needeth to hide away. Jen was not taking it and such, with a bit of boldness she didn't know she had, took her hands away from his. Instead, they reached behind his neck, as she hugged him close. His heart skipped a beat upon contact with her chest.

"Madam!" is what came out of him, unprepared for this. Yet, her grasp only tightens, for him to feel her ample chest on his, her heart beating profusely against him. Her warmth rubbing on his, further communing the sincerity of her sentiments. A whisper makes it's way to his ear, irresistibility inviting ~I wanna take your head nurse it upon my lap~. He didn't quite know how to react to this, a surge of heat evaporating from inside his shirt. "Uuaahh!" Unbeknownst to him, his hands had rejoined each other around her waist, while his breathing slowly accelerated, before regaining his calm. "Madam. I want to feel that which I rejected once more. I'm tired of being cold." Her hug tightened a bit more upon hearing it, this time, with her head resting on his shoulder "I'll warm you with my love, dearest. You don't have to feel cold anymore." They stay hitched to each other, uncaring of the scene they just made, amidst the drunken patrons who whistle while others went to cheer them on, slightly absent of mind, busy marinating in their alcohol.

"Madam, if you don't mind, I'd like for the two of us to take a walk". She detaches her head from his shoulder, an honest blush garnished on her face with a tint of her radiant smile. "I'd like to" she utters "And please, call me Jenny". He grins a bit, his feet turned to the exit. They carry him out, one of his hand dearly holding Jenny's as the two walk out.

Straight into an ogre. Jordan's entire body bounces back from the collision, unlike the lass on whom he bumped into. He falls back-to-ground. "Uuurrrgggh!" Jenny kneels down to a confused man who felt like he slammed himself into a wall of bricks. ell, well, look who finally learned the ropes~, the deep voice bellows as 2 others, red Onis, slowly walk, each of them holding a drunken male around.

Jenny ignores said voice, uninterested into inducting a discussion with her over what they had always done. Seem whoever spoke had noticed and set to rectify the shot. ~Jenny dear, you don't need to be like that. I was saying this to congratulate you~. The others around her laugh with that sentence concluded as they all emit signs of eagerness to indulge in drinks for the day, especially with their 'invited' men around.

"If you say so, Jakarta, but we were going anyway, so, I'm afraid we'll speak later", Jenny lays out, picking out the dusk on Jordan's suit, while he still gasped for air.

~Oh my, I haven't seen you speak with such confidence since, well, ever. You must really be happy of finally catching one.~

Jenny didn't answer, a mix of blush coming from those words and the urge to end this conversation as quickly muting her.

~You seem a bit subservient towards him. But, it's alright. Aunty used that one once on our uncle. Lure him into a sense of false security and then take over. Well done sister~. She gestures the others to the tavern, all hastily running inside, carrying their men all the more. Jarkata walks in as well, but, not before giving a friendly pat on her sister's back, as Jordan still struggled to regain his composure. ~I'll let you off to 'train' him, dear sister. Don't let up now.~ She walks in, now out of earshot.

"So sorry about that", her lips quiver to her fallen "My sister has always been on about keeping the tradition of dominance". Her worried face is soon held in by his hand, her nervousness fading away "It's alright miss, I know I can trust you. Your letter was too sincere for me to have any after-thought." Her cheeks blush yet again, his hand around her waist. "Come, miss, I will forsake this project I have been working on, so we may know each other. They will understand." Her head nudges once more on his neck, eyes closed. She was at peace, easily out of the unfortunate impromptu meeting with her older sister. And such, they walked away, unaware of the shadow following, working things their ways.

Day after day, the two souls learned from the other, in an ever stronger communion. Each day, they would partake in a couple's event. Each day, Jordan's health reverted from the cold state, bit hair regaining his original color, blonde with perky spikes. His muscles, crawling far from their previously hollow condition to a tougher surface, with more substance. And his skin soon shed of their dim colors. All of this received from Jenny's nursing. Her meals, her rests, and tender care ripping off the ravage done to him with months. He was ever the more grateful. With that gratitude, he stole a tender kiss from his dear half. Her blush became much brighter than she ever had before and it had cemented their relationship. Each day, they fell deeper in love. Each day, they faced greater happiness as two. More often than not, impromptu meetings with her sister occurred, wherever they went, seeking to 'check' on her little sister's progress.

Her demeanor seemed calm, happy to see her seemingly baiting her own. But, with days passing, it slowly changed. She began seeing through that supposed act of passive domination. There was none of that. None of the subtly plotting to be the leader in their relationship. Nor was there an aggressive takeover of his body by her desires. No. What she saw was an Oni, treated and acting like a maiden? Anger poured in the eyes of Jakarta, who saw her sis' careless display as a lack of respect. How dared she!? What if mother was aware of this? She would be sickened by this. Jakarta couldn't in any way let this one slip by. No, as any elder tends to, she had to right the wrongs. Her family's honor is at stake after all...

The night falls on yet another day, a familiar Oni walking away from the tavern as she did so many times before. This night, different from those that came before, had her singing a happy tune, rather than stumbling left and right while plighted by misery and advanced inebriated conditions. ~Today's first anniversary was so endearing!~ she shouts out, under the gaze of curious pedestrians. Her pace is joyous and rhythmed, soon to reach her residence. Her very first month with her loved one ended under a bright moon and as such, she preferred to avoid more than one drink, seeing how her kind is with liquor. Blushing cheeks fill her blue face, a mix of alcohol and her love-ridden state, keeping full force as she opens the door to her house. She wonders to her kitchen, a bit dried up by the drinks back at the Ol' Stool.

"About time you got here, sister", a voice resonates withing her kitchen, all too familiar. Jenny stiffens up as a candle is lit on her table, Jakarta's body sitting on a chair. 'Sister' especially as pronounced with great anger.

"Sister? What are you doing here?" she timidly asks, unnerved by the less-than recomforting feeling that her eyes were piercing her soul.

"I'm the one that should be asking 'what are you doing?' "

"W-what!?" Nervousness dips with the words uttered by Jenny.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" her sister drops, making every sound feel heavy. She knew full well Jenny knew what was the issue.

"B-but, but, I'm not li-

"It's fine!"

"It's fine?" Her voice sounded almost daring to hope.

"Yes. It's my fault, mostly. I didn't guide you on the steps on taking over. As the elder sister, I'm afraid I have failed you".

"Hum, well, it's alright, sister", Jenny replies, a hand on her chest with relief.

"Yes, it is. Because I'm taking charge now". Her sentence brings a moment of uneasy silence.

"Taking over? Taking over what?" Her relief was flushed down, stress polluting her words.

"Come with me and you will see". Jakarta suddenly stands up and paces near her little sister, a sinister grin on her face as she walks up the stairs leading to her bedroom. On the second floor.

Jenny is trembling a bit [What does she mean by 'taking over'?]. Her hands are shaking like an earthquake. The muffled noise from upstairs does not help. [What's happening up here?]. Her thoughts rabble over as her feet lead on, shaking never the less. She slowly climbs the stairs.

The second floor is under her feet, her body turned to the door of her room. Closed, but not locked. More noise echoed through the door. Her hand is so near the knob yet it feels like an eternity passed while her hand crossed the gap between the two. The knob makes a metallic sound under a pivotal force. Jenny focuses her eye on the contains inside and spots two red figures before her bed. A third one catches her attention. It is lower than the two, surrounded by something. It is in a kneeling position, its face hidden by darkness, as the two others are. Jenny takes a step forward and the moonlight reveals a bit more. The kneeling figure lifts its head a bit under a groan. Well, with the unneeded help of a crimson hand firmly grasping the top.

"Jordan!?" he lips utters by instinct. Her hands clench into fists. She takes another step, but feel a strong tug at the base of her neck forcing her down "Guuahh!?" Jenny struggles, to no avail. "Told you I'd take over, little sis' ", Jakarta's voice sinisterly gutters beside Jenny's trembling ear. "Sister, what are you doing? Whatever you think of doing, he's got nothing to do in this!" she pleads, alas, to deaf ears. ~But sister, on the contrary, he's the center of this...unfortunate situation. This man has made you weak. He disrupted what you are. I, as you loving sister, will re-arrange that. And you will remember your heritage.~

Jakarta pulls out a drink from behind her and shakes it slightly in front of her held sister. The 'Maiden's relief', an incredibly toxic drink for a human to gorge upon. This drink is said to be named after the maidens, who under the Onis' guise, have learned to 'let loose' their bottled desires with those they usually fancied while previously held at bay by their discipline. While a monster could with no problem handle the concentrated amount of alcohol, especially ogres and Onis, Jenny, being a blue one, had the uncanny deterrence of breaking down her inhibitions when swallowing a large amount. Jenny's eyes widen in terror as her mind quickly cobbled up what her sister had in mind.

"No..." She began moving forcefully, under a surprised Ogre who, in her unprepared grip, almost dropped the bottle. "No..." Jenny moves ever the more, practically slipping off her holder's strength. "No...no...no..." Jakarta's teeth clatter in strain as she struggles to keep her sister under hold. One of the two others goes in, adding her own strength to the restraint. Jenny was utterly powerless. No,no, NO!"

"Sister, I do this for your own good", she speaks, a semblance of a smile blurred by Jenny's tears. "NO, I don't want this. Not this, NOT THIS!" she pleads, only for her face to be rent immobile by the second Oni. Jordan watches with despair, still ignorant of what was transpiring, unable to move. He begins crying out for help. "Hey girls, look at this, he's also crying", the red Oni mocks, tapping his head repeatably. ~He will be crying in a different tune soon enough~, Jakarta replies, shoving the 'Maiden's relief' down her tearing sister's throat. Bitter gulps fill the room, mixed with the whimpering of the two lovers, as their lives together reach an unfortunate ending, with domination.

The trio laugh, their tainted project soon at hand. Jenny, now intoxicated, is left unhandled, but with her inhibitions cracked and shattered, all she saw was her partner, Jordan, with lust-ridden eyes. Futile attempts to resist this temptation is riddled all over Jenny, who does not wish to be this opposite of who she is. With the last sentence, she will allow, she utters "I'm sorry...". Her monster instinct kicks in, boosted by the alcohol as she slowly walks toward Jordan, who had the same desperate stare back. This is not the woman he fell in love with. He calls out one last time...

"SHADOW! I PLEAD YOU! COME TO OUR AID!"

"Shadow? What the hell is he talking about?" Jakarta ponders, before dismissing it as a mere 'last word'. Jenny's hands are within reach of him. They Onis watch with expectation. Her hand touches his left cheek...


 * Bam!*

Jenny is forcefully floored down, a black hand on top of her face, yet the action leaves her unhurt. The trio's eyes are wide in surprise. Before they act, a bottle briefly glimmers under the moonlight, down upon Jenny's unconscious body. Jakarta's eyes catch the liquid's color, black. "The devil's dagger? Stop him!" One of the red Oni pulls out her mace from her bad and arms it. Yet midway, her face is met by a black leather boot. The force flings her body through the wall with a very loud crashing noise. She lands, knocked out, on the table downstairs. The second Oni sidesteps behind the trail of black energy fading from the trail that followed him with her mace crashing downward. It shatters, met by a whispering ax, a visage upon it glaring down at the red Oni, who takes a step back, unnerved by the thing. "What the hell is that thing!?" The answer came in the form of a black punch, knocking her out through the room's window, with great force. Jordan gazes u pon the black form, uncloaking. He sees a man kneeling down to pour down his drink straight to Jenny, all under the mesmerized sight of the elder sister, still trying to figure out what just happened. Bentley's gaze turns to the roped man. With a swift swing of his arm hand, the ropes around lose their luster, his body free of any restraint.

"Jenny!" his first move is to fling himself to her, breathing raggedly. "She'll be fine, the drink I've poured will cleanse her of the alcohol" Bentley assures, letting the man hug her tight. Jakarta's mood switches from incomprehension to anger, her attempt, ruined by a complete stranger. "Hey you! Who the fu--

A hand halts her speech, grabbing her throat. She rids herself of it, only to be met with a motion kick on her right knee, forcing her down. "Grrr!" Her polearm swings across the room, going straight for the man in black. Only smoke comes out, his body fading as the thick thing and a singular black tread charging over her. Her combat instinct compels her to do an 180-degres turn. There he is, staring at her with crimson eyes, silent as the night. Jordan observes in shock at the reveal of the man who had been stalking him "Shadow? I didn't think you were around". Jakarta, unlike him, seems angrier than glad to see him. She dives in a blunt strike with her polearm. With sparks, it stops mid-air by the same whispering weapon of the stranger. He breathes calmly, unnerving her further. "Seriously, who do you think you ar--

A step forwards stops her speech yet again. Amazingly, the man was keeping up with her ogrish strength. So far as to slowly but surely force her back in the room, where a dragged out Jenny by her lover are both to the left side. Her clarity regained, she observes the stranger doing more than merely struggling against her sister. Sweat drips from her forehead, her eyes, a fusion of anger and confusion. Not only was he not overwhelmed by her brutish power, but he was the one pushing her further. How? She took a quick glance behind him, black threads growing out of his back and planted firmly on the ground, acting as anchors and pushers. "What the hell are you? I've never seen something li--

A great shove from his weapon tumbles her, making her lose speech for the third time. With her unbalanced position, he takes his chance and runs straight at her, a shadow aura pulsing around him. He crashes into her, as she is unable to stop him due to her shaky stance and drives her out of the window. A loud *thud* occurs, the earth rumbling from the fall. She groans in pain, spotting one of her acolytes laying on the grass beside her, tied by a black knife, underneath a glyph. She stiffens at this until her eyes see the breathing from said red Oni. A momentary moment of relief eases her mind, at least until she spots the man slowly walking towards her, still pulsing a black and crimson aura. It dampens and fades away, but his pace remains strong. Her hand grabs hold of her polearm, ready to swing it. In her confused and weakened state, her ears barely pick up a few words. "Is this what you wanted for your sister?"

"What?" she asks, hesitant.

"What she was about to do, is this what you wanted? Someone veiled by a sense of governance due to a pre-stated status?"

"What? Are you really asking me this? After kicking us out like that?" she spat, outraged by the man's sudden eloquence with words.

"The man you had under your leash certainly did and it fell on deaf ears", he retorts, setting her on silence for a few seconds. He was not wrong.

"Well, this is how we do things. Men are fragile being in need of a caretaker. They need to know where they belong."

Bentley crouches down to meet her gaze, his weapon stored on his back. He knew she wouldn't dare swing again, too enveloped in the battle of words they were having. "Really? The way I see it, she was doing just that".

"The hell do you mean by that?"

"The man you tried forcing her on, he was sick. She healed him. He fell in love with her. Your intervention was unneeded".

"So what if she did? My sister was acting like some spoiled maiden, forgetting of her lineage as an Oni!"

"What if she did? Is she wrong to bask in happiness with the one she'll walk beside?" he asks, the seed of doubt rooting down her psyche.

"She would have been happy as the leading one!" Jakarta replies, while her eyes slightly avoid his.

"Really? So, she's wrong to let herself carried by him? His loving embrace?"

"Well, no, that is not what I sought".

"Really? Because what I saw was an elder sister cornering her other with two more in an attempt to make her RAPE her lover in a drunken display of dominance!" he spits out bluntly.

"N-no, this was not what we intended! We just wanted my little sister to--

"To what, exactly? Pretend you were helping her while she was pleading not for you to force her through this?"

"Woah, wait for a se--

"While she was crying?" he adds, giving no quarter to what he was witness to.

Jakarta began to doubt her actions, as the shadow took a more gentle tone. "Madam, there is no need for one with leading status in their relationship".

"But, what if he begins to treat her badly? Some men are fond of this, taking advantage of a woman's heart to manipulate her. This I wish to avoid with my sister" she speaks out, her most honest opinion out. So it was not out of pure spite.

"Madam, I can see people's honest opinions and feelings. I watched that man all around. He is unlike those you claim he might be. Your sister knew this and loves him. A forceful intervention was unneeded".

"How can you be sure of this? Maybe he was just putting an act, as they all do", she throws out, increasingly destabilized by the man's words.

"I followed the man's trail. Glared at his recent past. Watched his all-around interaction with the others. If anything, he couldn't be more genuine if he tried. Your sister in good hands."

Jakarta stares at the stranger, finding no lies among his words, nor the subtle hint of deception amidst his voice. Whoever he was, he told no lies.

"My Demon Lord...what have I done?" Her hands plaster her face, struggling not to try. Failing at that, she sobs a bit and averts her body, ashamed of the tears pouring out. A pair of hand embraces her lamenting state, oddly soft. In her surprise, she unfastens her hands, seeing a blue body hugging her tightly. Jenny softly keeps her against her bosom, the elder on hugging back, in lament. Jordan gradually walks out of the door, watching the scene, a bit of relief in his eyes. The shadow vanishes, leaving the people to reconciliation, not a word of goodbye, nor any other thing, for, in his mind, he had said enough. His presence, no longer needed.

Bentley finds himself amidst the empty streets, far away from the cries. [It. Is. Done.] HIs mind beckons him to the Ol' Stool, where Jerry temporary resides, under the care of the barman. The place is almost empty, seeing the advanced night. A few last-minute drinkers dwell inside. Maybe they happen to have issues as well? For now, they are not on his mind, as his urge to unwind literally all over his posture. He sits on the first stool he sees, the one next to his little feline friend and places 10 coins on the table, taking the attention of the bartender Louis. "Sir, the Devil's Dagger is only 5 coins", he says, seeing a recurrence over the allotted money. "Well, I guess you will just have to take the five extra because my wallet is full", the thief answers back, dragging a chuckle out of the barman as a pitch black drink awaits him. He eagerly downs it in one shot, his companion cozily sleeping on the table. "How long has he been sleeping?" Louis cleans up the mug with his eyes staring up, trying to remember "I'd say about 2 hours ago. He waited next to the door for your arrival".

"I see". Bentley picks up his companion, meowing softly before getting. His eyes probe a recent thing he just spotted. "Was that mirror here before?" he asks. Louis looks at it as well "Yep, we just got it, though I'm not sure why exactly". The thief takes a few steps closer, inspecting it. The frame is golden, enveloping a purple gem-crusted inside. Beautifully crafted. Almost supernatural. He takes a hand to it. It reflects his body of slight purple color. His finger touches the surface with the tip. He feels the softness of the glass


 * CRACK*

The mirror fissures, two cracks left visible, under the surprise of the two men. "I'm sorry, my dear sir" Louis profusely apologizes "I didn't think it would break so easily." "It's fine, must have been a cheap one" Bentley answers back, looking at it. The cracks collide directly where his face is reflected. He squints his eyes, getting a 'deja-vu' from this. He slides his finger through the cracks. [Second time...] He walks out of the tavern, slowly fading amidst the mist, a cat in his arms...