The Team That Slays

JP with Jaxx, Trustno1 and Cindy

The group moved as one, stepping forward into the decrepit old building. Inside, the lobby was a decayed ruin, dust and mold covering every surface. The faded remains of posters clung to the walls, their colors drained to sickly shades. A heavy layer of grime coated the ticket counter, and the smell of rot intensified as they moved deeper into the darkness.

Ammie led the way, her footsteps silent, as if she floated rather than walked. They moved through the lobby and into the main theater hall, where rows of empty seats stretched into the shadows. The seats were broken and torn, stuffing spilling out like viscera. The projector booth above loomed like a watchtower, its glass eye shattered and blind.

Kolchak’s flashlight beam cut through the gloom, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. A distant, rhythmic sound echoed through the space, like the faint heartbeat of something immense and ancient lurking beneath them. Sartre’s hand instinctively moved to the weapon holstered at his side.

Ammie stopped in the center of the theater, turning to face them. “Skorzeny was once a brilliant scientist, but he’s become… twisted. He’s not just a vampire anymore. He’s a Ventrue who’s been experimenting with blood magic for centuries. Whatever he was before, he’s something different now. He’s opened himself to powers older than any of us—and those powers are hungry.”

Kolchak’s skin prickled, the feeling of wrongness settling deeper into his bones. “You mean… demonic powers?”

Ammie nodded. “Yes. And today, we’re going to make sure he never uses those powers again.”

Agent Powers gave “Amaryllis Wicker,” aka Ammie, a smolder as he stared at her in silence as she was doing her cloak and dagger thing coming out of the shadows. The large black duffle bag was slung over his shoulder as his muscles were bulging from his tight shirt. Of course all his clothing was made of his slime body but that was not known to the public. Meanwhile Princess Ekaterina was elegantly smiling by his side as her bug/rodent minions were already surrounding the building and slowly making their way into the building to spy for her. She politely greeted Ammie and quietly listened to her.

Her words hung in the silence, punctuated by a sudden, scraping sound from the back of the theater. They turned, flashlights snapping in the direction of the noise. A shape moved in the darkness, a shadow slinking along the far wall. It stopped, its red eyes gleaming in the dim light, piercing and malevolent.

Janos Skorzeny.

He emerged from the shadows, his presence filling the room with an oppressive weight. He wore a long, dark coat that looked more like an extension of the shadows themselves, and his face was twisted in a cruel smile. His eyes burned with a crimson light, his elongated fangs glistening as he stepped forward.

“Ah,” he purred, his voice dripping with condescension. “I see Lodin has sent his loyal dogs after me. And a little witch as well. How charming.”

Ammie stepped forward, her expression hardening. “Skorzeny, you’ve meddled with forces beyond your control. You’re a danger to the Camarilla, to the Masquerade, to everyone. It’s time for you to answer for your crimes.”

Skorzeny laughed, a sound that echoed through the empty theater like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Do you think I fear death? I have seen things that would break your feeble minds. I have become death. I am the darkness.”

As he spoke, the shadows around him seemed to writhe and twist, as if responding to his will. Tendrils of darkness snaked along the floor, stretching toward them. Sartre drew his weapon, aiming at the vampire, but Ammie raised a hand, her fingers moving in complex gestures as she began to chant under her breath.

Agent Powers reached behind his back and pulled out his 12 gauge holy golden shotgun filled with phosphorus slug rounds and aimed it at Janos Skorzeny. At the same time Ekaterina reached behind Agent Power's back and pulled out her black mini pump 12 gauge shotgun filled with phosphorus slug rounds and aimed it at Janos Skorzeny. Then they both prepared to shoot Skorzen when he was in range.

A thunderous shotgun blast tore through the quiet, ripping into him with a force that felt like a battering ram of pure fire and fury. Janos had no time to react, no time even to draw breath before the first burst of iron and flame hit him dead center in the chest. For an instant, he was thrown back, as though gravity itself had betrayed him, sending his body hurtling backward in a violent arc.

A wet, terrible feeling spread through his torso as the pellets shredded the delicate tissues beneath his skin. His finely tailored coat was obliterated in places, threads whipping out in jagged tufts as blood sprayed, dark and viscous, staining the leather with gory black spatters. The burn of the iron filled him with a searing pain, something he hadn’t tasted in lifetimes. Tendons twisted, muscles flayed, and his lungs felt as though they were filled with molten lead. Smoke rose from the torn edges of his shirt, mingling with the cold, damp air, thick and acrid with the scent of burnt flesh.

He staggered, fangs bared in a snarl of agony, and looked down. Shards of silver buckshot were lodged deep in his chest, glittering like sickly jewels embedded in the ruined skin. Blood seeped from the wound—slowly, far more slowly than any human would. His Vitae—the ancient blood in his veins—was working overtime, knitting together the tattered edges of his chest, but the metal fought against him, stinging with a persistent, maddening fire.
He hissed, his hand clawing at his chest as he struggled to remain upright, staggering back a step, then two, the steely power of his Ventrue will barely keep him from crumbling. Rage began to smolder behind his eyes, fighting against the weakness writhing through his limbs. His lips curled back in a feral snarl, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His hands shook, claws scratching against his chest, desperately attempting to pull out the twisted metal shards that seemed to sink deeper into his flesh with each heartbeat.

Pain clung to him, refusing to let him forget his mortality, or his own dark purpose. He was weakened, damaged—but not defeated.

Alyssa absentmindedly dug into the small bag of sour cream and onion chips, watching the deadly chess game play out before her eyes. They seemed to have it under control but Skorzeny absorbed the impact, clearly affected but still going. He was going to be hard to kill, that should have not been a surprise, but the hacker would have felt better if it had kept the centuries old vampire down longer.

The hacker used Ekaterina's equipment to look around a little more, before returning it to its original position of what Ekaterina was seeing. It was subtle movements and Ekaterina shouldn't have noticed.

Agent Powers and Ekaterina began firing repeatedly at Skorzen hoping to fill him with holes as the phosphorus rounds made him burn as the oxygen reacted with it.

Janos Skorzeny stood at the center of the desolation, his black suit ripped and clinging to his lean frame. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the inhuman vitality of a Ventrue vampire barely masking the toll of repeated injuries. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, his face twisted into a mask of contempt and pain. The fresh blood on his chest from the last shotgun blast still glistened, soaking into the fine fabric and leaving black stains where it seeped into his skin.

The echo of heavy boots signaled his hunters closing in. From behind a shattered concession stand, Max stepped into the light. His shotgun gleamed, freshly reloaded, its barrel aimed squarely at Skorzeny. Max was young, his face smudged with sweat and dirt, but his hands were steady. The others—Kolchak and Ammie—followed a few steps behind, their presence anchoring the oppressive weight in the room.

Skorzeny’s lips curled into a sneer, baring his fangs. "Do you really believe this will end with me?" His voice was cold and sharp, cutting through the musty air like a blade. "You hunt shadows while the true darkness gathers. Blind, stupid cattle."

Max pulled the trigger without hesitation. The shotgun roared, a deafening clap that reverberated through the cavernous lobby. Skorzeny staggered back as buckshot tore into his chest, shredding fabric and flesh alike. He crashed into the cracked marble pillar behind him, leaving a smear of black vitae as he slid to the floor.

"You’re running out of lives, Skorzeny," Kolchak said, stepping closer, his sidearm trained on the vampire. "We’ve played this game long enough."

Janos let out a wheezing laugh, dark and guttural, blood bubbling on his lips. "Oh, you have no idea what game you’re playing, Kolchak," he rasped. His voice grew stronger, each word laced with venom and disdain. "The Red Star is coming. You think I’m the monster you should fear? You’re children playing at war while the heavens prepare to drown you in fire."

Ammie advanced, the wooden stake in her hand glowing faintly in the dim light, a trick of the anima that coursed through her reforged body. Her gaze was unwavering, but a flicker of unease crossed her features at Skorzeny’s words. "Keep talking," she said, her tone sharp. "It won’t save you."

Skorzeny’s laugh turned into a low snarl. "You think your time is infinite? In three years—three short, pitiful years—the Red Star will blaze across the skies, and everything you know will crumble. Mueller’s mad ramblings? All true. The Mirzaba isn’t a comet—it’s a prison key, a beacon to the ones who lie beyond the veil. Your wars in Ukraine, the blood spilled over Jerusalem—they are cracks in the dam. The Dreaming Ones will awaken, and they will drag your world into an abyss you cannot comprehend."

His eyes flicked upward, as if seeing something none of them could. "Even now, the heavens warn you," he whispered, his voice soft but chilling. "But you don’t listen. You never listen."
Ammie closed the distance in an instant. With a fierce, precise thrust, she drove the stake into his chest. Followed by a chant and a red energy blast. Skorzeny gasped, his body convulsing as black veins spread from the wound. His face twisted in fury, his eyes blazing one final time before his form collapsed into ash.

The silence that followed was oppressive. No one spoke. The faint creak of the broken chandelier above seemed almost deafening in the stillness.

Ammie spoke, her hands trembling slightly now that the adrenaline had begun to fade. "What the hell did he mean?" she asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Red Star, the Dreaming One’s— Do they both have something to do with each other? Even my occultist brother, never mentioned the vampires and the Red Star." said Ammie
Kolchak holstered his weapon, his face grim. "We’d better hope it’s not," he muttered. "But we’ve got to prepare like it is."

The group filed out of the ruined theater, their footsteps echoing like a funeral march. Outside, the derelict city of Gary sprawled before them, a labyrinth of crumbling buildings and empty streets bathed in the deep crimson glow of early evening. The sky was painted in violet hues of orange and red, but it was the moon that commanded their attention—a great blood moon, looming low and impossibly large on the horizon. Its crimson light bled into the landscape, casting long, sharp shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own.

The group walked in silence beneath that ominous orb, the weight of Skorzeny’s warnings pressing down on them like a physical force. The air was thick and humid, carrying the scent of rust and rot, and the distant wail of a train horn sounded more like a dirge.

The blood moon hung above them like an unblinking eye, its baleful glow seeming to whisper of secrets better left unknown. The streets of Gary, already abandoned, felt like the ruins of a world yet to end, an eerie precursor to the doom Skorzeny had foretold.
Ammie glanced upward, her anima-forged body instinctively tensing at the sight. "It’s just a moon," she said, as much to herself as anyone else.
Kolchak’s expression was unreadable as he adjusted his hat against the glow. "Yeah," he said softly. "But not just any moon."

The blood moon glared down as they disappeared into the night, its light stretching their shadows to grotesque lengths. Somewhere far away, the wind howled, a mournful sound that carried with it the weight of the vampire’s prophecy. The Red Star, the end of the world—it all felt too close, too real. And in the silence, the blood moon seemed to watch, waiting, patient and implacable, for what was to come.

Sartre got back into the van and hugged Alyssa.

"Max and Ammie got him, Alyssa." said Sartre.

Alyssa nodded, "I saw," was all she said. The quiet hanging overhead. The hacker had heard every word, and was starting to think that the dark, the evil, black thing that followed her around. The thing that seemed to want to latch to her, and not let go. What if that thing had something to do with what's coming? Maybe, that's why it wanted her - to use the hacker in some nefarious means to that particular end. She said none of that. Instead, "Good job, getting him." Her tone was soft, and as if a sudden uncertainty had taken over.

The hacker threw out her, now empty, chip bag. Downed the very last drop of her Coke, and put the can in the bin she had for recycling, though recycling cans almost seemed pointless, if the world was ending soon. Then the equipment was shut down, and she climbed into the driver's seat as they waited for the others.

"How are you Alyssa?" asked Sartre.

"I'm alright." Alyssa stated, maybe not convincingly. "I wasn't there in person, so, maybe I should be asking the rest of you that question." In a poor attempt to lighten the mood, if just a little.

"I'm alright as well." What snack do you have there?" he asked.

Agent Powers reloaded his shotgun as he listened to Sartre and Alyssa. Then he helped reload Ekaterina's shotgun. Then Ekaterina asked Agent Powers, "Any idea what that dying vampire was going on about?" Agent Powers nodded as he collected the empty shells and put them on the back duffle bag. Then he replied, "If its like last time with the three witches a portal opened up and something evil tried to come through." Ekaterina asked, "That was when we first met, correct?" Agent Powers gave Ekaterina a smolder and then nodded as he replied, "Yeah. Something tried to possess Alyssa and get her into the portal. I was not letting that happen so I kept her in place as he rained bullets and old man Sung's magic sword attacks. We closed that portal, but I would not be surprised if they tried that trick again using that vampire." Ekaterina nodded as she saw how serious Agent Powers was about doing his bodyguard job protecting Alyssa. She asked, "Weren't you scared, even a little?" Agent Powers gave Ekaterina another smolder and then smirked as he replied, "Nothing scares me princess. My father trained me to be fearless. He likes to use the Spartan warriors and samurai as examples for making me the best combat Agent. If I am weak I can't save myself or anyone else, so I never neglect my training." Ekaterina gave him a smirk and looked at Alyssa as she said, "I find it ironic that you are being protected like a princess in those old fairy tales and I am working alongside your knight over here." Ekaterina was hoping to get a smirk out of Alyssa.

Alyssa raised a brow, and smiled slightly. "It is ironic, isn't it?" Alyssa then asked, "Max, you know I appreciate your protection but did your father ever say why I was supposed to be protected?"

Agent Powers gave Alyssa a smolder then shook his head no. He replied, "Nope. My father has a lot of secrets and never shares the whole mission with me. I asked him about that in the past and he told me I am not ready for the "big picture" yet. But I know they met once in the past when I was younger. I didn't make the connection till I met your father in that cave since I didn't know his name, but I am sure they know each other." Agent Powers finished prepping his guns and putting them into his black bag.

Alyssa seemed surprised, which wasn't an easy feat. Did her father request it? Did he try to help her? But he had vanished for five years before Max or anyone was sent to protect her. Alyssa had some theories, but it couldn't have been her father's request, directly. Still, the idea that the man played any part in protecting her was surprising but, kind of nice, in a way. "If everyone's ready, let's head home - or well temporary home."

Agent Powers smirked as he replied, "Sounds good. I wonder if the others are back yet. We get a lot of side missions while on a big mission." Ekaterina smirked as she replied, "I noticed that as well. I am curious as to what HQ is thinking by over working us? Perhaps there is a method to their madness?" Agent Powers shrugged as he replied, "If their is, I don't see them sharing that with us anytime soon."