Nighttime Investments (Grigori)

[Tipper Blue Seridae]

Due to the copious amount of running Tipper did in her spare time, the last fifteen minutes she’d spent sprinting after an errant werecat—through bars, up and down multiple stories, across rooftops and through fire escapes—had allowed her to keep her heart rate even and relatively untaxed. Of course she felt the effects that this jaunt was going to leave her with already: she’d twisted a shoulder vaulting through a window, and her heels ached from landing on the sloped lid of a dumpster a few miles back. But those wouldn’t slow her down until morning. For the moment she was doing quite well, except for the fact that the were she chased was easily as agile as she was, with just as much knowledge on shaking off an opponent as she had. It was always harder to chase than to be chased—the motives weren’t as strong, and the one being chased had nothing to keep track of but themselves—but Tipper had gotten into the roundabout bug trails she and her opponents made across the city, or so it always seemed when she traced their routes on the maps later when asked.



Seeing as her target had been forty feet ahead of her for the last twenty minutes, Tipper made a change that had a fifty-fifty chance at success, on her end, but either way a change had to be made or by the end of this chase they would both have to lie down and buy each other a massage. She left the were’s immediate path and cut through where she assumed he would go, though she didn’t care for taking chances. At least she was the only one on this job; Tipper didn’t take chances when she was giving others orders, only when she was alone. She wouldn’t risk others’ lives like that. Tipper ran across the crooked, dented lid of a blue dumpster for the height of it, and when the were came skidding around the corner, threw herself at him, catching him around the shoulders and dragging them both into the asphalt. ”Jeremy Retker,” she forced out as she struggled to get a proper grip on his head, ”you murdered four people. Now why would you go and do such a thing?”

[Deleted]

1, 2, 3, 4
Underneath the cellar floor.
5, 6, 7, 8
Lover will suffocate.

Jeremy Retker was one of the most ellusive weres that Markov ever tagged for capture. That being said, once the men he assigned the task of bringing Retker to Vegas lost him, Markov decided to take matters into his own hands. If he had someone as ruthless and brutal as Retker in his arenas, he was sure to get money flowing to his pocket like the Niagara Falls. If only his coven was just a little more competent than they were being as of late.

That was why Grigori Markov, the leader of one of the most well-known and feared covens in Las Vegas, took his private plane and went to New York City of all places. Now, he was traipsing around the streets and keeping his ears and eyes open for any sign of the werecat that stole his men's dignity.

”Jeremy Retker, you murdered four people. Now why would you go and do such a thing?”

Markov smirked as he heard that and headed toward the female voice. He was surprised to find she was pinning his werecat on the ground. Well, that wasn't a sight he saw every day, especially since the woman was obviously human. Then again, he knew hunters when he saw them. She definitely carried that vibe. He stepped out of the shadows and approached the pair with mild curiosity.

"He's a fighter," Markov answered for the cat. "And he belongs to me."

Tipper Blue Seridae | too lazy to count
WORDS

[Tipper Blue Seridae]

The assface was strong, uncomfortably so, and the only way Tipper could compensate for that was by fighting his arms with her legs and leaving her arms to battle body parts with less leverage, like his head and neck. She hooked her legs around his arms and twisted them so the backs of her pointed feet braced against his back, wrenching his arms back in his sockets. It was an uncomfortable position for both of them, but it worked, and he was easier to threaten when she was in a position to dislocate both his arms. His head she had to work a bit more carefully with—she didn’t fancy being bitten by anything, least of all a creature with the power to change her very nature without her permission. She was on the verge of holding his head still enough for her to be able to knife him properly when an unfamiliar voice made her stop.

Tipper whipped her head up to glower at the man. He was far too quiet, had gotten too close too soundlessly. Chances were that that alone made him either more than human or very well trained. Her night vision wasn’t strong enough to be able to pick out a pulse at this distance, but she’d act as though he didn’t have one until she knew better. ”Every man belongs to himself,” she disagreed. ”And this one deserves to receive what he’s already meted out.” She felt behind herself for one of the smaller knives she’d added to her nightly arsenal, since she didn’t need a large one when her target had been so reduced and couldn’t go anywhere anymore.

[Deleted]

1, 2, 3, 4
Underneath the cellar floor.
5, 6, 7, 8
Lover will suffocate.

”Every man belongs to himself, and this one deserves to receive what he’s already meted out.”

Markov smirked at that. It always amused him how hunters failed to separate the fact that werecreatures were nothing but animals trapped in human bodies unless the moon was full. He shook his head at the piece of knowledge humans failed to acknowledge.

"He is no man," he said, "and if you let me take him off your hands, I can assure you that he will face a far more fitting fate than you can ever manage."

After all, he had a business to run and this particular could bring in a good bit of cash. Markov loved money, especially in situations made to exploit werecreatures and get them off the street. All the better to ensure his race's survival.Plus, he ensured entertainment for races of most shapes and sizes. It all came back to how much money he could rake in. The were would meet his end in good time, he would make his death a show for Markov's very expansive clientele list.

Tipper Blue Seridae | 182
short sorry

[Tipper Blue Seridae]

Tipper shook her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him—it was that she didn’t trust him to stick to his word. He may believe himself to be truthful, but that didn’t mean his associates, or whatever he worked with, wouldn’t wage a vendetta and let the were out just to spite him. ”I don’t see how you can guarantee that,” she said with a frown. The were squirmed, and her cramped muscles virtually growled at her. She needed to let him up at some point. Even she wasn’t tough enough to keep this up for much longer.

”What do you plan on using him for?” she asked slowly. Tipper didn’t approve of ornamental torture, though there were several people she’d heard of who probably deserved it. She very, very much wanted to avoid a tussle with the vampire though. He didn’t look like the sort to fight his own battles, but that was probably only because his battles were over because his opponent had the chance to fight back. ”I hope you understand I’m not supposed to deviate from my assignment.”

{Mine too. And I’m so sorry about the wait! I thought I’d replied.}

[Deleted]

1, 2, 3, 4
Underneath the cellar floor.
5, 6, 7, 8
Lover will suffocate.

"I don't see how you can guarantee that,"

Markov scratched his chin and chuckled. She had absolutely no idea who he was. It amused him to absolutely no end. Of course, he wasn't going to enlighten her as to who and what he was. That would be no fun, besides, he didn't know what sort of hunter she was. Obviously she hunted weres frequently, but that wasn't Markov's issue. He didn't know if she was solitary or part of the cities faction.

"What do you plan on using him for?"

Markov looked back at the were and scratched his chin thoughtfully once more. That was a good question, but it was one he couldn't very well answer honestly. At least, not in detail. So he had to rely on a small half-truth.

"I own a prison of sorts for weres like him," he explained. "There was a new guard in his quarters, and the idiot let him escape. I would like him back. I would feel safer with him locked up."

That was the basic truth anyway. The arenas in Vegas were indeed a prison for weres. The guard thing was a little more of a lie, but he had escaped his bounty hunters so in a sense he was still being truthful.

"I hope you understand I'm not supposed to deviate from my assignment."

Assignment? So she was a part of a faction. That interested him. He was highly curious about this, because he wasn't sure if she was part of the Sentella or some other faction that had taken over. He hadn't been in New York for some years. Things could change greatly in that time.

Tipper Blue Seridae | 278
short sorry