Earlier that night, as Judas and EJ put the cream-filled center into their éclair of a date, trouble of a different kind entirely is brewing.

A tan-skinned Italian woman finds her way into a dangerous nightclub despite the fact the bouncer can tell she's not a corpse and her skin's still cooled. She wears a loose black tank top that says 'HATE FUCK' in big bold letters, her pseudomuscular arms are laden with buckles and straps which themselves are abundant in studs and plates, and baggy black cargo pants keep her fully modest. Her nails are painted black and white in alternation, her heels (also spiky and checkerboard - seeing a theme, perhaps?) give her an extra four-and-a-half inches of height, and she shows off fresh tattoos of katanas, skulls, smoke, and shell casings.

On her neck sits a cute collar with a heart buckle in the middle, doubling as a ring-gag for good little subs. This woman was not one of these. She was a brat. She had borrowed it, however, and didn't realize the significance it held. To her, it was a fun accessory to help her fit in, and a potential tool to be applied in a kink scenario. Hopefully she wouldn't need it for the latter tonight, but one never knew with these degenerate Westerners.

The establishment, aptly named The Jezebelle Club, was thrumming with activity. It always was, even during weekdays; such was the innate desire for hedonism, for release from daily stress and work-life balance, that even the most timid officegoer could find themselves wrapped up in something far beyond them. Something dark, and dirty, and dangerous, and a little bit sexy - something undead. That was exactly what the woman was hoping for.

Of course, this woman's name was Esthrielle, or Est, for short. She had come a long way to do a lot of bad, bad things, to a lot of bad, bad people, and also a regrettably large amount of innocents. However, she was under order from the Pope himself, il Papa, and she couldn't very well let him down.

She steps up to the bar, eyeing up the man behind it. He was tall, and broad, and built almost the same as the bouncer - a vampire without a doubt, and with the vampirism came many things. His eyes were red and jewel-like, shimmering as they came to be seen, and his dazzlingly white teeth were offset by larger-than-was-natural canines. These were engraved with crosses, right side up and upside down, then filled in with silver to make a fashion statement. The silver kept them from re-growing. His ebon hair, short dreadlocks in a shaggy style, was a compliment to his dark skin; he had a chiseled jawline and elegant, masculine features. The man couldn't help but smile and bare his teeth when he saw Est.

"Oooohhh... What brings you here, girl? Y'all new in town? I've never seen you around this spot before... I'm Roth, head bartender. Lemme get you a 'welcome to down' drink - what'll you have?"

Roth winked, sending out those unseen tendrils of influence towards Est's cranium. He might have been surprised to learn she was completely resistant to such things, if he could tell; but the way she smiled and swooned, head in her hands, her Eastern accent suppressed and rolling out as an East Coast socialite's cute, breathy drawl. She fluttered her lashes as she responded.

"Oohhh~! Yeah, thank you soooooooooo much; I moved here 'cause I heard so much about how cool this place is, y'know? Haha! But, really, I've got friends out here... I'm here visiting, and because San Andreas has been acting up so much that I can't take it anymore. The stack-cities aren't for me... I wanna be here! Midwest! Home of the living-fucking-dead, hahaha~!"

Maybe she was laying it on a bit thick, but the flashed devil's horns from either hand and the stuck-out pink of her tongue helped sell her airheaded punkette act. She had even gone to such lengths as accruing multiple piercings, facial and otherwise, to fit into this sort of nightlife crowd. Roth's laughter in response seemed to signal he was buying it. "Oh! And, uh, an ax-murder, please!"

This one got Roth's eyebrows raised, and as he absentmindedly mixed the simple drink he began to question her. "Ax-murder, eh? You're not dead. I can smell it on you - you don't smell like, uh... Well, right. You don't have fangs, and you're way too lively for a zombie... Just an enthusiast, then?"

Enthusiast here meant wannabe, or perhaps poseur; despite Vitus's population all slowly getting funneled into the great necromantic engine of its cold morgue-wombs, killing yourself led to immediate zombification and harsh legal repercussions. Most undead-admirers simply lived fast and died young to accelerate the process... or hired hitmen.

"Pshhhh! Ok, yeah, you got me! I'm not actually dead... yet. But we can all hope, right? Besides, it's not like those fuckin' normies out there know what they're missing. It's gotta be sick as hell, right?" She gestured vaguely to the club entrance, still smiling her winning, empty-headed smile. Roth nodded, playing along with her; he knew the truth, that undeath was shit for most, but he was one of the lucky few. He could charade a bit.

"Oh, you've got no clue. Faster, stronger, sexier, immortal... Plus some tight powers, you know. Can't do sports or shit like that without a license, but, you know... Worth it." His smile widened conspiratorially before he burst out once again in half-laughter, which Est happily joined. Her ax-murder was pushed forward and sprinkled with black pepper, a thin straw for stirring added afterwards.

"Mmmmh... I've got an idea, I think...~" Doe eyes cast a bedroom glance over Roth's physique, bringing the straw to her supple, thin lips. A slight pucker, her cheeks dipping inwards by naught more than a hair, as the salty-sweet elixir filled her mouth and drained down her throat. Roth adjusted his stance, flexing subtly; it wasn't great to flirt with customers when so much of the night was left, and while Est seemed like exactly the sort of cute, empty-headed rave slut that made places like the Jezze so popular, there was something... off about her.

Maybe it'd go away if she got drunk?

Unfortunately for Roth, Est was just playing the game; she had no intention of going home with anyone tonight, for better or for worse. However, she did have a reason to be here other than partying and flirting with the local wildlife: a Tsang industries contact, a double-agent, who had reached out to the Knights through some pretty desperate methods. She was looking for a way to strike back at her 'employers' and get out of the charade life she had been living... Regardless of the means required.

That was good. Est liked people who were cooperative. She wasn't here to fuck around and wrangle assets... she was a killer, a warrior, with a mission given by God. Or, the figurehead for God, at least. Go figure.

"So," Est said, sipping her drink, "what's the dance scene like here? Lotta people like to get out there, or am I wasting my time on a weeknight?" She winked, gulping down the rest of the spicy red fluid in her glass. It wasn't good - at least, not to her - but even the most basic poser at least tried to look like they fit in. Hell, the alcohol didn't even affect her; she had her hepatic biofilter engaged and was actively filtering free any drop of the common poison that passed into her system. May as well have poured the drink on the floor for all it was worth.

Roth didn't reply. Instead, he gestured out to the dancefloor, which was thrumming with life. Colored lights strobed and flared from a ceiling-mounted scaffold of lamps and floodlights; faux smoke rolled near the ground and sparsely in the air from a nearby machine; something loud and grinding and German hollered over massive speakers set into the walls, the bass of it palpable not only in the air but also the stools and floor. Even on a midweek midnight the club was thriving, being so close to Tsang Solutions as it was.

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"Oooohhhh... Hmm...~ I think I better get out there, then! Maybe I'll find someone cute, yeah? It's so lonely, being the new girl in town..." Saccharine syrup dripped from her words and lips, the honeyed naivety bordering between coy and genuine. It was just the right level of innocence, of obliviousness, to make a vampire's predatory senses raise up to a 10. Roth went to say something, hand going out, but Est had already hopped down from the stool and was beginning to make her way into the crush.

Like a porno without the nudity, the dance floor was drowning in it's own muted sexuality. Flesh on flesh with thin layers between crashed upon itself in tidal waves, the living and the dead both too drunk on lust and drugs and blood and booze to notice who they were dancing with, past basic features. If one looked hard enough they might be able to see a vampire and their prey grinding and playing, teeth teasingly upon the neck - or maybe a ghoul and an admirer, the former's inhuman tongue let free to taste forbidden fruit. Zombies and aberrations tended to hang out towards the sidelines, letting the more physically fit and agile of the undead have all the fun.

Est got into things quickly, eyes roving the crowd, body roved by others. There was enough space to get a decent groove going, but her height did present a new problem; the boots helped, but she still was far from the tallest person on the dancefloor. The details regarding her contact were pretty minimal... So minimal, in fact, that they practically boiled down to 'you'll know her when you see her'. Fat fucking chance. There were dozens of leather-clad punkette bitches and ubergoth latex faeries out here strutting their stuff, tall and short, thin and bulky, and none of them seemed particularly unique...

Subcultures, eh? They sort of did that to you. By striving to be nonconformant you ended up conforming anyways. Kinda funny, that. A hand slipping through her arm-hole to take a shot at her chest broke her violently from this reverie, and she was wheeling around to bust someone's teeth in when she got a glimpse at her violator, elbow stopping in-air as the stranger pulled her closer.

Pink hair, hime cut. Bright, sparkling eyes (tonight pink, with heart-shaped pupils). Fair skin with the lightest peppering of freckles. Plump, pouty lips of an erotic dark pink. A smile that could melt butter. This must've been her contact, without a doubt - and if it wasn't, well, Est could make an exception on the groping just this once. A first time for everything, right?

Purity pulled Est closer, swaying gently to pantomime dancing once their bodies were in sync; her outfit, a full black latex catsuit that simultaneously left everything and nothing to the imagination, felt cool and comfortable against Est's pseudoskin.

"Heyyyyy... You're not from around here, are you? I've never seen a girl rock white hair like you, before... Wanna dance? Or maybe find somewhere to chat? I'd love to get to know you better...~" Those words were like a drug to most, but Est was immune to the true weight they held - the subsonic influence present from voicebox augmentation. The Knight's mind had been trained and bolstered against such blatant attempts at manipulation, though being held and whispered to like this had its own way of stacking the chips against oneself.

"U-Uhh... Yeah! Yeah, let's goooooo... Hmm... Let's talk a bit! You're pretty cute, I'd hate to miss a chance to get some one-on-one with you, haha..." The operative's words caught in her throat as she spoke, but Purity didn't seem to mind. The taller girl (still fairly bigger than Est through mercy of built-in heels on her outfit) leaned down to plant a pink kiss upon her left cheek, turning the pseudoflesh hot with blush.

Without further speech they headed back towards a booth surrounding the dancefloor, shrouded with darkness and smoke. Est sat first; Purity slid in right beside her, blocking her from view even further while also getting intimately close. The Knight was between a wall and a soft place, being squished slightly by both; Purity even threw an arm around her to keep her close, head tucking down to nestle into the crook of Esthrielle's neck.

"So... Are you from out of town, little lamb? You seem lost... I thought a more experienced girl like me should probably come take care of you...~" Purity drizzled her candied tones into Est's waiting ear, but that wasn't all - she was speaking in code, only slightly, just enough to tease Est into replying in turn. 'Little Lamb' wasn't just about one's innocence and harmlessness - it was a symbol, one which Est knew well from her time in the East.

"Oh, yes - quite lost... Would you be my shepherd~?" A little dated, a little strange, but that was the Church for you. Purity's smile widened as the passphrase was sent, giving Est another quick peck and a squeeze. She shut her eyes to take a deep breath, and Est did the same, drawing up that strawberry-bubblegum scent that seemed to perpetually hang around Puri's sugary silhouette.

"Yesssssss! Yes, of course! Oh, fuck, thank god you're here; I've never done this kind of shit before, at least not for anyone other than you-know-who, so... Fuck, fuck, I'm so excited. I'm so relieved! I thought you were gonna be some huge burly bitch with blades for arms, o-or a gun for a mouth, or, or... Shit... Something like that. But you're cute, and normal looking, and you don't seem like some kind of psycho killer..."

Purity's suit creaked almost inaudibly as her black-clad fingers wiped away a bead of nervous sweat from her forehead, wetting the already glossy material. Est, meanwhile, felt much the same relief - and a bit of disappointment that she hadn't just been randomly selected by a hot club beauty to have drinks and get fondled. Ah well; maybe they'd have time for that later, eh?

"Yeah... I mean, we take pride in our appearance, y'know? I don't know anyone even back home who looks like a 'psycho killer'- actually, wait, I guess... Hmm. You may have a point. Look, that doesn't matter right now; give me the run-down. All of it. Maybe we'll have enough time, then, for a dance, or some drinks...?" There was a hopeful tinge in Est's tone, but in the end all that truly mattered was her assignment. Business and pleasure could be mixed, but only if the clock allowed.

"Oh! Y-Yeah, yes! Ok, so... There's this woman, Judas Alighieri... She's in charge of the GRD at Tsang, really a big-shot with money and power and shit, but she's more of a taskmistress than a scientist. Makes sure everything runs smooth, yeah? Cracks the whip, aims the gun, all that shit. If something were to happen to her... Even just a minor inconvenience, put her in the hospital for a few days to regenerate a leg or something... Well, it'd really slow things down for them. HUGE wrench in their plans."

Shit, that sounded good. Damn good. There was something poetic about the name ‘Judas Alighieri’, but also something frankly pretty… edgy. It sounded fake. Like, who the fuck names their kid Judas? And Alighieri? Like Dante Alighieri, a la Dante’s Inferno? But Purity’s conviction warded off any doubt that may have been planted into Est’s mind, well-intentioned or otherwise. The fact that she was holding her with such loving familiarity certainly helped smooth things along…

“Hmm… ok. Works for me. But I need more than a name, hot stuff… do you know a location? Maybe an address I could go to? Hell, even something like what floor she works on would help.” Est snuggled up to Purity, trying to make it look every bit as though she was just searching for some touch if any observers were to get wise to their interaction. Purity responded in kind, her outside arm moving to put a hand on Est’s lap - her thumb slipped beneath the waistband, tugging gently.

“Mmmnnnhh… I could do that, yeah… But what’s in it for me? How do I know you’re not going to take my intel and leave me out in the cold? I want some… security to my investment. Prove that you’re not gonna stab me in the back.” Purity emphasized this point with a tightened grip, palming Est through her pants, showing her that she meant business. It didn’t get the message across as intended, just making Est’s loins tingle with sudden warmth.

The terrorist, however, was well aware of what Puri really meant. She sighed, reaching into her pocket and producing a small USB-like device from one of her many baggy pockets. However, instead of a USB ending, it seemed more like a spike - something meant to stab into interfaces, like a dagger. She slipped it into Purity’s hand - the one on her shoulder, not her lap.

“…here. This little baby will end all your troubles… Just send it with your next little dead drop grab bag and it’ll activate as soon as they scan it. Don’t worry about what it does; the less you know the better. I hear some of those people can pick up lies in speech, or something crazy like that… and we wouldn’t want them finding out you’re willingly giving them a toy from us, right?”

She laughed, and Puri followed - albeit, somewhat stilted, nervous. The deal was completed, the transaction secure. It was safe for Purity to give her the whole truth, all of it - right down to Judas’s home address, and that she’d be out for a date today. Perks of being friends with her target’s secretary, eh?

The two spent an hour or two more together, reveling in what the night may bring, before Est departed. She headed over on foot, going there straightaway; when she arrived, all the lights were off. As expected.

Her palm went to the lock, and in a mere moment she was in. Upstairs, two bio-signs were detected; no more in the house, save for one in the basement. Ominous, but not a problem. She’d figure it out.

With a sound no louder than a whisper, she pushed the door open.