Harrań was walking through Craven's Bridge, and he peered over the cobblestone wall to his left. He sighed and zipped towards the entrance of Castle Grave, arriving in ten seconds and stopping to crack his knuckles before entering. "This is the first board meeting of the day... I wonder how it will go, Mark?"

All electronic devices are prohibited beyond this entryway.

Harrań Hastyr deposited the expendable burner phone into the trash can.

All smoking devices and further recreational items are prohibited beyond this entryway.

Harrań Hastyr lightly and begrudgingly placed his cigarettes onto the Dark Seed wood. The surface of the table shook with the pressure of his fingertip and he smiled. He lifted his pinky finger [(digitus minimus manus)] and thumb from the cardboard material and stopped once more, in order to stare at the box. 'Smoking kills. If you're human.' Harrań still chuckled at that. The most subtle way he was able to convince Plainbloods to kill each other was by getting them to kill themselves; with diseases such as cancer, and weak-minded self-indulgences. Those freaks' willpowers truly were downright hilarious ... at times. Then it got to the point where even HE had to pity the "Ungifted". He liked that label, and, for those born with seemingly no advantages in the way of supernatural "gifts or abilities", it was almost a compliment. Some other terms he enjoyed using, included, but were not limited to;

• Vulnerables

• Generalities

• Witnesses

• The Blinded

• Oversights

• Ex-mutants

• The Pre-powered

• Exploitations

• Weaklings

• Flailers

• The Puny

• Rejectionists

• Presence Pushers

• Creature Crunchers

• Post-Poachers

All weaponry and accessories accompanying such objects are prohibited beyond this entryway. Please subject your persons to a voluntary strip-search prior to attending any scheduled events.

Harrań flickered his eyesight from the final sign, and ended up staring at a man's dishevelled facial hair. A white beard bunched itself upwards and over the heavy male. Heavy? Chubby. Fa -- "Fat CUNT!"

Harrań looked towards the pink-haired midget of a female, her scabbard resting on her forehead and threatening to cut her eyepatch. Her red and black striped shirt and a skull-and-crossbones flag on her black leather short-shorts gave away the fact that she was a pirate. Island Scavenger. She was disguised poorly, even if she was trying to blend in. "HEY! M-"

"MORON" The third person now, a green mohawk-bearing tiger, was currently standing on its hind legs. Manly nipples were rising and falling in time with flexed triceps and thigh muscles. Thumbs. Two. Thumbs. Opposable. The jungle animal was currently gripping a B6 sketching pencil and a white notepad, the metal binding politely clumping the sheets of paper together. In its free hand, the blue skinned tiger was spraying some liquidated hair gel onto the aforementioned green mohawk. It was positioned in front of a mirror, and it was wearing a tuxedo. Its sharpened claws were very softly scratching its scalp, tufts of hair tipped with black and brown colors swaying from the movements of its right hand.

"I see. You--" Harrań began to smirk. "I what, FREAK?!" The tiger had apparently snuck up on Harrań, a two hundred year old... vampire. That should not have been possible. So... a navigator and geography expert, a master of stealth, and a ... whatever the overweight man was, he was clearly the leader of their group. His skills would be deduced with time. An hour or so should do the trick.

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"Freak? Listen pal! I--

"No, you listen here, you little fang-faced fuck mouth. My name is Stapha, and I don't handle new people that willingly. So, unless you wanna be a Lion's dead lunch, you should watch which toes you're treading on. And at which times you do so." Harrań felt himself being able to breathe again as the tiger released his grip on the shirt's collar. Vanquisher Vampires couldn't die, but they still had weaknesses. The need for constant oxygen being one of those weaknesses. A reluctant exhale of small relief was expressed through flared nostrils, and the Bloodsucker's eyes stopped their stinging sensations as the room fell back to normal temperatures, whatever normal was in the eyes of immortal beings. "Stapha, you didn't have to go that far. I'm sure he's a kind stranger." The tiger turned his back to the Vampire. His buff, almost sculpted back. "Damn it. How emasculating..." Harrań whispered this last thought for fear of being heard.

"Yeah, well Axxen, he didn't have to push me that hard." The pink haired female rolled her eyes and displayed compassion within them, staring at Harrań and tilting her jaw to one side, a cute tongue appearing from parted, plump lips, decorated with purple lipstick. Axxen's skin, tanned and darkened from its obviously pale natural tones, was outshone by the chandeliers' lights. Harrań returned an empathetic smirk and drooped his head towards his grey fur-lined hiking boots, his shoulders falling in time with a planet-busting exhale of warm winter air. His breaths would produce clouds of clear white puffs, but luckily, the Bloodsucker was inside the Headquarters.

"NEXT EMPLOYEE! CALLING NEXT EMPLOYEE TO THEIR WORKSTATION."

click click click click click click click click click. click. click. click.

Black rubber heels stopped near a white wooden archway. "I.D. please."

'Order of Eagle Level Two ☆ Floor Eighty Clearance ☆ Twenty Years Veteran Service'

Harrań punched his knee with his fist and flipped his I.D. to the second page, cracking his knuckles simultaneously.

'Order of Eagle Promotion Progress ~ 91.57% ~ Next Promotion Ranking ☆ Order of Eagle Level One point Six'

"Hey mate. Identification is required to move beyond this yellow marker. See this on the floor? Well only Level Three or lower can cross it. So if you are Level Three or above Level Two, feel free to enter. Unless you have acquired stolen documents?"

Harrań smirked and clicked his heels together at this assumption. "Hey asshole, today has been tedious. Nauseating. Perhaps you'd be willing to let me through?" He stared at the man's forehead, searching for any sweat drops or frown lines as the command was being processed. "Jeez geezer, mind control only works for Werewolves. Go find a Moonbearer and come back to me. And don't ever call me an asshole again. Understood?" Harrań grinned. Just as planned... "Fine. I won't call you an asshole, POFA-7. I'll call you... an Australian asshole. Understood?' Before any response could be provided by the rusty Android entity, the Bloodsucker blurred away into the tree-line of the forest. POFA; Planner of Foreign Acquaintances. Harrań Hastyr always did despise the bloody things. Clusters and clumsy clumps of coding, kiddy scripter programming, all shoved away and cramped up inside hollow technological morons. Two organisations of fools, made almost entirely of Titanium. Maybe they truly were hollow, nobody above Clearance Level Zero was knowledgeable about which other materials were stored and secured behind the metallic armor. Not even Clearance Level [(C.L.)] One point One was informed of that secret.

Harrań was twelve years old by the time he joined the B.A. Vampires group, and he was sure Uncle Mark would be proud. By the time he turned eighteen, he had already gained Clearance Level Five, and by the time he was thirty one years old, he had achieved Clearance Level Three. Level Two was afforded an achieved by his newly inherited fortunes, some seven billion pounds. All bank notes. Right now Harrań was contemplating what would occur if he were to waste half of that money solely on Clawfang Inn's premier vodka. Alcoholic beverages were a first for the Hastyr boy, and at the age of only fourteen, the son of Othemius Hastyr was finding himself waking up with several hangovers within one day, at least three times each week. That nasty habit continued for three concrete, solid years, before the man managed to clean himself up and get rehabilitated.

Seven months after Harrań Hastyr's eighteenth birthday, Othemius passed away from a rare bone disease, which caused the body's natural bacteria to go rogue and attack its own host, the only difference between that disease and cancer being that it didn't regenerate quite as quickly. The bone disease, which caused the antibodies to chew their way through the marrow and gums, quickly progressed into stage two; rotting of the kidneys and lungs. At age seventeen, Othemius had one kidney removed, his left kidney, and then two days before Harrań's birthday, which was January third, his father's right lung finished its complete deterioration. His funeral was held with a budget of £1,000,000, on the tenth of February. His three Aunties attended but were placed in the fourth row of the Church pews.

Othemius' disease was known as Xanavar One Two, yet it was written as 'X. 1-2'. Harrań had spent 13 years, 7 months and 8 days studying and researching every single tidbit and crumb of information about X. 1-2. In the end, he became an expert in Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Meteorology. He also knew a little over half of the world's Topology information.