Two Days Till Launch
Los Angeles Nightclub
What was a den of pleasure, but hunting grounds? A place were substances that blind the mind to danger flowed, where brutish and piggish men expected women to wear nearly nothing, to shower them with attention and hungry smiles, faint flashes of red in the eyes to match the blood red lips. Of course, there may be, as the music pounded and the lights flashed, something of an undercurrent of tension that was not yet fear, a tinge of sweat and acid smoke to the senses.
After all, over the last five days, several dozen men in the area had gone missing, vanishing from the clubbing scene with only whispers and rumors left in their wake. Quietly, the men began to bunch together, to talk, not touching the drinks as much, and the eyes on the women? There was still interest, but more muted, warier as they weigh their options, consider things. It might be best, some say, to just head home. Of course, these thoughts, these tokens of resistance, do not go unnoticed by the huntresses.
With subtle moves, they stalk forward, their unnatural perfume drifting to nostrils, fragrance eroding the wills of men even as it stirs something inside of them, fires growing as the women wink and lean in, separating them from those desperate knots with kisses and eager little caresses, their charm and will wrapping around the men who leave the clubs, dazed and eager as their companions laugh and stroke their muscles through shirts, as eyes burning with desire lock onto their own, teeth nibbling on their ears as they say they cannot wait to see what the men have.
Towards a motel on the edge of town they are lead, each and every man's mind informing him, with the womens not so subtle teasing, of what awaits. The last they heard, as burning beauties straddled them was a husky voice commanding them to sleep. They fell into darkness, into a light sleep that soon enough broke into the sleep of the dead, nothing more than a harvest for the Amazons.
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Later that same night, as red heels clacked and clicked on the floor to the pounding of music, as flesh ground to flesh on the dance floors, hidden grins and whispers passed between sisters. Of quotas filled and manflesh delivered to the docks. Sure, they would try for some bonuses, for a few additional morsels their elder sisters way, but they could hunt in their own rights. No, as grins flashed bloody smiles, teeth just a little too sharp, it was time to indulge in their own hunts.
For the most part, the men never saw it coming, even less so than those meant for sleep, as they were dragged into bathrooms, into the backs of cars and seedy alleys. Men hooted and hollered, deluded into thinking that they were getting some action. No, they were met with eager lips giving hungry kisses, hands that caressed and teased... and a hunger that dragged the souls from their bodies, sliding past blood red lips into gullets no longer entirely mortal, no longer entirely human.
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Of course, as the huntresses stalked back into the club, the faint sheen of sweat on their bodies, the faintest traces of something suggestive in a handful of places? Why, how could the ladies refuse men willing to give them free meals?
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One Day Till Launch
New Amazonia Compound
While others would be hunting in the city, Mary was finishing the last touches of her own little project. The simple fact was, that while Willow was focusing on sacrifice to summon up demonic patrons, she was going to make use of some of her favourite and obscure 3.5 books to make sure the group had some heavy hitters. Yes, she had to make some promises with the others, but the end results, as she looked over the chosen simp? Frankly, he was a desperate little nothing so eager for any chance at all to get into a woman's pants... but that is what made it easy.
To be sure, he was not entirely sure of things, ritually bound in the middle of a pentagram as he was, but after demonstrating some supernatural powers and claiming that she could grant them to him as well? Oh, how eager he was to sign the contract (which would be meaningless other than as a tool to lure him in), to trade a period of service in exchange for power. To make of him a great and powerful warrior.
In truth, as she chanted, shards of broken weapons around the man (she did not bother to remember its name), streams of iron rusting and burning, the smoke drifting up into the air, his body at least would be transformed, if he followed instructions. "Accept the spirit into you. If you fight it, all will be lost!" Because it would be really. A willing host, no matter that he thought it was some sort of enhancement based on Apache tribal rituals.
Really, it was easy to trick and fool the idiots. All you needed were at least a few dream catchers, some masks and a music player with drums, flutes and someone going 'oh-oi-oh-oi' in the background and they could not tell the difference. So, he paused a moment, and then opened his mouth, the smoke pouring inside of him, sinking into his nose, eyes and pores. There could be a brief glimmer of understanding, of knowledge of what was happening, as his back arched and he screamed.
The last actions the male would ever do as himself, body cracking, twisting and stretching, gunk pouring from his skin and coating it a sickly, almost puke green. It was with a smile that the instruction was given, as the magic shackled and bound the fiend in willing flesh. "Serve as a loyal solider." There is a pause, before the fiend, the Rutterkin, laughs, amused and eager.
After all, if you need some demonic soldiers, why not the ones meant to be soldiers?
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Mary pondered things, as the Dark-Kin walked and mustered, as they prepared for the likely chaos of the night to come. To be sure, her soldiers would be under others commands, but she did not need to be in command. After all, most of them would be serving to acquire new stock, only a handful would actually be meant to see combat.
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Final Hours Before Launch
Streets of Los Angeles
It was chaos, it was pandemonium and for the most part? Well, in the hour since the announcement, there was only so much to do, as amazons joined the mobs, as they looted and screamed, as they blended in and loaded up supplies on the boats at the dock and ferried what they needed onto the island. To be sure, books and new age stores seemed to be a far cry from the usual targets of these flash mobs, but all sorts, no? Of course, the violence also held another benefit.
It was not just goods being loaded to be taken to the compound, for in the cargo hold of another of the ships were a handful of young boys (taken from a range of middle schools that day. After all, people never suspected women), just on the cusp of puberty, along with many more toddlers who would know no other life (not after the teams took them from the daycares). After all, as the women smirked to each other, elbowing each other, they would need to replace their numbers somehow, and fully grown men would be much harder to break and train properly.
Of course, as some of those boys cowered, women eying them and licking their lips, some of them were still old enough to play some fun games with sooner rather than later. Soon enough, the whimpering and crying of young boys and cooing of older women told the tale of just what games the women had in mind, as the city burned behind them.