The gentle tone of the night shifted after Falian left Mocha's shop. The warrior had maintained her smile and pleasant demeanor until the redhead had waggled her fingers and closed the door, turning and pressing her back to it in that cute way that smitten girls in movies did. Falian would have wondered if the girl realized that the front door to the shop was see through and that her cuteness was on full display if she didn't have the fires of hatred roiling in her chest. Turning away, she stalked the street with purpose, her aura turning the dark of the night cold as she passed.

It was late, possibly early, but Falian didn't care. She was full of rage, seething anger roiling in her chest. Some dead man had tried to take her little doll from her, tried to mark her and left his filthy stench on her. It was unacceptable to the highest extent. No filth could touch what was hers, nor dare to mark the property of the Northern Gale.

Taking a deep breath, Falian retrained her thoughts, picking a destination. She would find the lout in time. For now she wanted food, a drink, and to pop off someone's head. A bar could supply at least two of those things for her.

The clack of her heels on the marble walk echoed as she turned onto the main road, heading to a local bar. While she lived on the other side of town, coming across the city to see Mocha was no big deal especially when the girl planned on disappearing. Finding out that she was possibly leaving town also allowed for the possibility for another encounter in the wilds, something that Filian was particularly hopeful for. It was a thrilling thought.

Though, the fact that Mocha would willingly leave town for a gig made Falian curious. The arms dealer hadn't risked another run-in with her in several months, content to focus on her craft instead of risking defeat. Falian could attest to the quality of her work, it being the only firearm capable of keeping her at a pause. That quality was the reason she even deemed it appropriate to carry the weapon draped across her back.

What could lure her back into the wilds? Who could pay enough to make such a thing tempting? Both were intriguing questions to Falian, so much so that she found herself completely distracted when she entered the bar.

It was a rowdy place, smelling of hot wings, cheap liquor, and cheaper cologne. Locals in the area were known to rough it, and the gangs in the city "claimed" turf in the area, mainly to further the illusion of power. So they liked to pile up in bars on late nights like these to show off and impress new hires with their clout and authority.

Tonight just happened to be the wrong night to show off.

—

As Falian stepped into the Sirens Call, anyone who was anyone shut the hell up, watching the dangerous woman strut with the confidence of a god towards the bar. Everyone got the message not to stand in her way, moving with a quickness so as not to bump into her. Everyone except Ricky.

Ricky was relatively new on the block, one of the freshest members of the Razorbacks. He was large for the bipedal races, a solid 7'3" with a tight, athletic, fighter's build and a charming smile. Tigerfolk like him were known to be excellent fighters and dangerous warriors, rare as they were. He had made quite the name for himself during initiation with those very skills.

Now the young, spry tiger man nudged one of his fellow gang members, looking round to make sure all eyes would be on him for his next impressive showing. Standing and puffing out his barrel chest, he walked towards her, obviously intending to bowl her over or at least make her move out of his way. Instead, when he crossed into her personal space, tensing up for a collision there was a loud, dull, wet crunch.

To everyone else in the bar it looked like he walked close to her and then just fell backwards and to the side holding his face. To his friends at the bar, one saw her hand blur away from her side and then across his lower face. To Ricky, there was nothing but blinding agony for a second as he tumbled to the side, holding his jaw. When he pulled his hand away, a deluge of blood and half of his beautiful, pearly teeth came with it.

The tiger man screamed in dismay, turning on the woman as he forced his way to his feet to see her walking away, still distracted. Rage overwhelmed him and he drew his piece, a magitech Wesson & Cochran magnum, aiming at her side. He pulled the trigger, the blowback on the handgun enough to make his powerful arm numb as he sent death to avenge his face.

Falian turned with a casual backhand, sending the high powered, over-packed round off to bore a hole through the dart board. With her eyes locked on him, the entire room went chilly and dead quiet. Shots had been fired.

"You want to fight me, weakling?" She asked, her voice low and dangerous as she stepped toward the tiger who shrieked in fearful disbelief. Taking aim at her again, he fired once more only for her to slap his second shot away as casually as the first.

“You dare to challenge me with your shitty physique and your measly, feeble body, then have the fucking nerve to attack me with some trash weapon for dogs? I’ve never seen a pistol so fucking tiny,” she said, slapping the weapon from his hand in pieces. The force of the blow dragged him to the floor as though she’d taken and thrown him. Comical and impossible as the sight was, the denizens of the bar only watched as the man tried to right himself.

The pitch and tone of the scream he made when her foot shattered the wood board directly next to his groin was so high, his commander thought she’d actually smashed the poor cat’s jewels. He stared up at her and cowered, tail coiled around his leg and his ears pinned back. Her presence alone was enough to break the rowdy foolish young gangster. But breaking him wasn't enough for her it seemed.

He yelped as the woman kicked him onto his back then stepped onto his abs, walking on him purposefully as she made her approach to the counter, where 3 lemon drops awaited her. She picked one up, downing it in a swing before nodding to the tender. "Three more of these," she growled, slipping her callipygian rump onto a stool and picking up her second. "And someone pick up the damned doormat."

So it was that the newly initiated and highly celebrated Ricky was tossed to the wayside, only a few friends left with him to make sure he was okay.

—

Back inside of the bar, "Doormat" had already been forgotten by Falian, who had downed her fourth shot and was still contemplating murder. The insults and curses on her tongue were meant for another man, a man she’d yet to meet. So instead she waited for food while she mentally calmed herself with the sound of cracking walnuts.

It wasn’t until she’d downed her fifth sour that she recognized was someone addressing her. Turning back her ears, she listened in. The voice was deep, confident and directed at her. It wasn't common for her to receive direct requests, so she paid attention.

“-Enforcer? Lady Enforcer?” came the voice of a male. Probably serpentine or reptilian in nature judging by the resonance of his voice and his distinct, almost hissed ‘S’. Sighing, Falian turned, easing her scowl as she addressed the newcomer. It was bad business to scare away work, even if it was funny.

“That’d be me. What is it?” she asked, looking the man over once before deciding that he genuinely was here to pay her for something. He had a familiar scent to him, one that the silver haired enforcer associated with cowards and cheaters. He was, as she had guessed, a long serpentine creature, one of the more colloquially named ‘naga’. They were rare in this part of the world as their long bodies signified long life, and with that long life came wealth. While Neo Denver was a beautiful, powerful city, it did not lend itself to being a great vacation place for the exorbitantly wealthy. Not unless it was some Yorkie purchasing property on the east side.

Neo Denver was a place of action, a city fraught with mercenaries, businesses, and trade. For someone with money like the man in front of her, she would expect Neo Denver to be a place of business, not one for relaxation. He didn't look human enough to be one of the York Prefecture elite.

As for the man himself, he was about 40 feet in length, large with a cobra’s hood and lime green scales. He had four arms, both pairs wringing one another as he prepared to talk through his serpentine, noseless face. While not exactly hard on the eyes, Falian wouldn’t have called the slimy reptile anything pleasant otherwise. His humanoid torso was lean, indicating a good metabolism or perhaps a personal health regimen. But his arms were stringy and it seemed to Falian that his most experienced body part was his mouth.

“I have heard you are the most powerful fighter in the city,” he led, putting the supposition forward as if it would flatter her into taking some kind of discount. When she said nothing, simply looking at him with her bored expression, he continued nervously. “I had hoped we could do business after I have viewed a display of that prowess. To ensure I am investing in a worthwhile contract. You don’t come cheap,” the serpent blabbered. His statement piqued her interest though, and so she perked up in her seat.

The man had walked up to her and asked her to show him her strength. That meant he was either daft, inexperienced in the field of mercenaries, or trying to insult her. She hadn't ruled out daft, he seemed the type to frequently talk himself into and out of large messes. But on the off chance that he did in fact want to insult her, she hadn't had a chance to really work off some steam in weeks, and the naga were known for being durable and regenerating.

Instead of asking him directly, she chose to test the water and see how he behaved. “Before I agree to show you anything, what is the job? I don’t tolerate wastes of my time,” she growled, her tail swaying languidly from side to side as she stared into the man. Her pale yellow eyes bore into his soul, and she could tell he felt uncomfortable, though he managed to maintain eye contact.

“I have enemies who would like to hunt me down, so I have come to Neo Denver,” the man explained, seemingly unperturbed that the entire bar was listening to them. It was likely that if she rejected him here, the entire town would hear of it. His life would be over if that were the case. Which was why clients normally made appointments to speak in private so no one knew who would, or wouldn't, protect them. This told Falian that he had enough money set aside that he thought she likely couldn’t refuse, or thought he had something so juicy to offer, she’d simply take the deal upfront. That prospect also intrigued her and so she listened as he continued talking, his eyes locked on her body, though they roamed freely down her chest and waist to her hips,then back up her body.

“I doubt you are familiar with the Black Cats. They’re a local mafia group at the heart of operations in Dunning. I need the people they’re sending here or smuggling into the city at night to be taken care of. I’m willing to pay 15 large per every confirmed head.” he said, laying out his money and his intentions for her, or at least what he was willing to divulge at the moment.15 large wasn’t cheap, especially per head when the negotiation was for the extermination of mafia goons. It was enough to make even a city enforcer look twice. If he was good for the money, this man was wealthy beyond imagining. Wealthy in the kind of way that screamed pre Ignition wealth. It was then that Falian concluded that this man was an idiot.

Falian smiled to herself. She wasn’t above dipping her hands into the overflowing coffers of antiquity. Quite the opposite. Standing, she let her ears flick as she stood and set her gun to the side, the beautiful, pale rifle leaning against the counter. “3 more, tender. On this one,” she said as she scanned the room for her target. “It’s a large per man of yours I take care of for this little ‘test’ of yours,” she informed the serpent man, noting that he seemed not to even flinch at the amount of money she was about to make him spend just for a show of power.

“Any price bumps for supers?” the man asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

“No. It’s a flat rate,” Falian said. Regardless of what kind of person he brought forward in her city, she would not be found lacking in a contest of strength or skill. “Though I will inform you now, before I trash your men. City law dictates I don’t do business inside of the city. No mercenary will unless they want their head on my plate. This is a show, personal, and off duty. Whatever thugs you want taken care of will be caught and dealt with in the wilds.” She spoke simply, hers was the law of the city. Not the law of the people. The very magic that held the walls and forced back the beasts of the wilds was behind her and within her.

“I suppose I really am getting my money’s worth then,” the man smiled, pulling a black card from his purse and smiling, moving past Falian to place it on the counter next to her new drinks. Turning with a confidence and poise only granted by generations of guidance and decadence, he began moving to the door. “Shall we step outside for the moment?”

Falian followed, leaving her weapon, her drinks, and the man’s money behind. No one would dare touch what was hers, and she knew it. Letting the serpent man out into the night before her, Falian stepped out after him only to feel something speeding toward her head the instant her heel hit the walk. Lifting a hand she guided the supe's wrist, forcing the punch off course and sending the man off balance in front of her. With the momentum he’d put behind the blow he sailed in front of her only to be caught by her free hand, her nails pressing into his throat around his trachea.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

With him caught, Falian took a glance at the speedster, recognizing him as an Avian. He had a long neck and a hooked beak below his pretty, big, orange eyes. It explained why he had attacked so quickly from above her. His plumage was standard for the half-owls, a pretty caramel brown with snowy white countershading. His physique along with his speed would make him a significant mid-rank threat in the wilds, though the light weight and hollow bones would likely get him killed by anything actually tanky.

The supe paused in her grasp, well aware just why she had grabbed him by the throat. She could smell the fear pour off of the man, wafting through his feathers. It tainted his mana, made him sour. If she’d really wanted to enjoy taking his head, she would have done so before he felt her fingers, that way his mana wouldn’t go bad before he died. “Do you want me to leave them alive?" she asked the snake man who was coiling himself on the sidewalk next to a large, gold and black limousine.

“I’d prefer you let them live, yes,” he replied, his tone amused as he watched the speedster in her grip tremble in fear for his life. He gasped and grabbed his throat the second she released him, coughing as he rubbed at the area. He didn’t have long to relieve himself as Falian pushed his chest with her palm, bullying him to the sidewalk where his boss was.

“Hey!” he protested, trying to stop her, exerting his speed to try and swat her hand away as she pressed him on. She smirked and ignored him, batting away his feeble attempts to protect himself, smacking his hands hard enough to hurt him and make him wince when he tried to push her hand off of him. She kept on playing with him until he had backed into the door of the limousine trying to get away from her. She simply smiled at him like he was a plaything, a fun pastime while she waited for the real show.

Turning to her prospective employer, she maintained her devious smile, “Cute. Where are the rest?”

“They are in the vehicle. I brought five, including Jeffrey, here,” the man said, looking with warning agitation at the man who was pressed against the door of the limo. “Let them out, Jeffrey.”

“Yeah, Jeff. Let out the competition,” Falian chuckled, slapping the man lightly on the cheek twice, just to prove a point. The man glared at her in fiery indignation before turning and yanking the door open.

Falian stepped back, interested to see who all would exit the vehicle. The first two to exit were a pair of twins, humanoid and beautiful, they looked almost completely human save for the lengthy pointed ears and the scent of sap that soaked their very pores. Falian would have pegged both raven haired sisters as elves long before she saw the fancy enchanted wood swords the pair had at their hips. She openly rolled her eyes at them both. Some of the new races just went all out on the old stereotypes of pre-ignition fantasy. It really made her sick to her stomach how quickly weaklings conformed to old bullshit.

“Fucking elves. What’s next, a dwarf with a big beard and a shirt that says ‘toss me’?” Falian asked, openly ignoring both of the twins who gave her indignant stares before a female dwarf stepped out after them. Falian laughed openly that her guess had been so close, finding endless amusement in the fact that this troupe of supers had met the ideals of cliche so readily.”Oh god, look. It has a little hammer,” she cackled as she held her midsection.

The dwarven woman was about 4 feet tall, and did indeed have a heavy looking gilded hammer. Her brown locks were in tight braids and her light green eyes were striking as she looked around to her comrades before glaring at Falian. Apparently she was a bit insecure about being called out for conforming to her own racial stereotypes.

The shifter could openly feel the hate pouring off all three of them at the moment, but paid them no heed as she enjoyed the much needed levity. She couldn’t help but double over when the last super, a humanoid with a 3rd eye stepped out of the car and stood proudly. “And a triclopse!? What’s his super power? He can watch the other three lose at the same time?!”

The three-eyed man was about 6 feet tall with pale skin and mostly human features. Human purists absolutely wouldn't accept him for his third eye, but he was by all other standards a rather average looking fit human. Not that his being so did him any favors in Falians eyes.

The ire of the entire group was on her now and to be honest, Falian didn’t care. She had made her easy money for the night. She’d beat these five, finish her drinks and be gone within the next ten minutes whether the snake man hired her or not. It was turning out to be a much better night than she’d anticipated.

“The terms are as follows,” the snake man said, cutting into her laughter, though she only toned it back to amused chuckles, rather than stopping. “You will beat each of them one on one, and if you can, I will issue a contract specifically for you under city law with the mercenary guild. It will be under the Valanov family name, very easy to recognize.”

“You sure you don’t want to send them all at once? Give them a chance?” Falian asked, eying the troupe of men and women with increasing amusement. She couldn’t take any of them seriously. And when the speedster openly charged her again, she returned to her laughing, slapping both of his clawed arms aside before cracking him across the beak with the same hand, sending him sailing down the sidewalk with a howling cackle.

The man whose name she'd already forgotten bounced once, then again before tumbling into a messy heap on the sidewalk. He groaned once, trying to push himself to his knees before he simply collapsed, his body occasionally twitching in place.

“That’s one,” she chided between amused chuckles.

The snake man went slack jawed as he looked down the street to his man, who had been neatly crumpled into a pile on the walkway in less than a second. The man obviously hadn’t even been able to properly see the exchange. He stared in awe at her for a long moment before gesturing to his goons to get a move on.

Both of the elves drew their blades, glancing at one another before advancing and moving to either side of Falian on the sidewalk. Doing so put one of them standing over the tail of their employer, which had her wobbling lightly as she widened her stance more than she was used to. “Elves, so picky and needy,” Falian commented, sighing and taking a step away so that the girls could be on equal footing. Didn’t want them complaining that she hadn’t given them the space to move around with their pretty little swords.

Both girls tried to follow her, but as they did the one standing over the employer’s tail tripped on it stumbling off to the side as her balance abandoned her and the noble hissed in discomfort. Falian snerked openly at them both, even when the unoccupied twin went for a sneak attack, hoping to take off Falian’s head. The shifter flicked the flimsy, wooden annoyance away, snapping the blade in half and sending the twig flying down the street.

Turning to scold the silly elf for trying to attack her before both twins were ready, she found herself guffawing again as she found the raven haired beauty, looking between her and the ruined weapon, teary eyed and speechless. “Oh you can’t be serious. She’s gonna cry?”

“No! I’m not!” the elf shrieked at her, the elegant features of the elf turning a ruddy red, that really just made her look like a tomato with fake ears on. It only became more amusing as tears began running down her cheeks. Her sister recovered her balance and moved in front of her twin as though she intended to protect her sister’s honor from the big bad wolf.

They had such a quintessential twin girl chemistry, Falian thought they both might legitimately be synchronized in mana as well. So, naturally, Falian broke her sword too, just to see if they would both have the same reaction. She was very pleased to find that they did. Whatever magical power they had seemed to be very invested in those twigs they were trying to swing around, so when both broke the women fell onto one another, sobbing.

The shifter was about to comment on the comedic duo when she caught a whiff of something on the night air. Immediately her levity was quelled. The area around her became cold once again. The familiar stench smelled of filth and burning wood. Without pause, Falian turned away and started walking back to the bar to get her things.

“Where are you going?” the Valanov man asked, obviously embarrassed of his help and confused.

“We all see how this is going. I’m taking my things and moving on. I have something better to do,” she said as she headed back into the building her heels clicking on the marble. The people inside were all bustling and pushing to get away from the windows when she entered, the gangsters and ‘important folk’ moving back to their seats while trying to seem inconspicuous. No one got in her way as she walked up to the bar and slipped her rifle strap over her shoulder. She picked up the card and pocketed it as well, ignoring the fresh wings next to her 3 new drinks. She wouldn't be staying to enjoy them.

Only when she heard the door into the bar slam did she even turn her ears back the way she came. She heard the dwarf charge her from behind, heard her bellow a mighty war cry. Just as the shorter woman reached the bar to bring down her hammer, Falian stepped to the side, picking up the lemon drop that was in the way and downing it. The hammer came down where the drink had been, smashing through the bar and into the floor with the raw power the dwarf exuded.

Unfortunately for the diminutive woman, by the time she yanked the hammer out of the floor and over her head for a follow-up strike, Falian casually kicked her back the way she came, sending her flying through the door and out into the street with a squeaking wheeze. Falian sighed as she lowered her leg. The weakling would have to learn not to get in the way of her betters the hard way.

Falian tapped the remainder of the counter, and tossed a few creds onto the mostly splintered wood before turning and heading out of the broken door with not so much as another word.

Stepping back out into the night and down the walk, she walked over the new dwarven doormat to the Siren’s Call and made her way toward the snake man and his three eyed companion, who was bristling with rage. Unfortunately for him, Falian couldn’t be convinced to care how weak supers felt.

“You haven’t beaten all five of them,” the man protested halfheartedly as he loitered about next to his vehicle, apparently never having seen someone with real power before. The man next to him was fuming, looking ready to beat on his own chest like an ape.

“Why?” she asked, looking around for anything more interesting. "If you want to test my skill, find someone worth my time," she shrugged, turning as she hit the sidewalk to follow the scent. It was stronger now. Like the person leaking the stench was sweating.

She could tell that he was nearby, maybe within a block or two of the bar. The scent reminding her of her little doll in the worst of ways. She could see Mocha in her minds eye, her neck bruised from where the asshat had touched her. She could feel that stench over her natural otherworldly sweetness, marring it overshadowing it. The thought made her blood boil.

Her attention was so focused on the scent of her prey that she was genuinely surprised when a hand landed on her shoulder, immense strength far beyond that of a normal human landing on her arm. She turned to look at him, her eye glinting with the rage she was feeling as she turned her own ire on him.

The man was blown back by a concussive blast, his body ragdolling before slamming and embedding itself into the hood of the limo setting off the horn into a long loud wail. Brushing off her shoulder with a hand, the shifter walked off into the night to avenge her little doll.

—

Tab growled into the crook of his nightly conquests neck, nibbling on her as he calmed down. He'd managed to talk a pair of girls in the club into coming out with him for a walk before charming both. Things were so much easier when he used his power. No struggling, no screaming or protesting unless he wanted it.

He indulged himself frequently now, seeking the highs of power he had once felt with his younger redheaded lover. She had submitted to his desires and whims with a devotion he hadn't found anywhere else. She had been willing to do things no other woman would even consider unless charmed.

Even now in the alley, one of the two women standing dazed and still under his power while he ravaged her friend in front of her, he was still thinking about her. He saw Mocha everywhere. It ruined his highs. The memory of her blue eyes staring up at him brought him back to earth where he found himself still unsatisfied even as the blue haired cat girl slumped to the ground against the brick wall of the alley. He huffed and punched the wall before slicking back his hair with a free hand, turning to the other girl.

This one was the very reason he'd approached the pair in the first place. She had the same red hair as Mocha, though he suspected it was dyed. She was much taller and had a more slender build rather than the petite pear shape of his ex. She was also not human. The ears parting her hair and her long haired horse tail giving her way.

No, she was no Mocha, but she'd do for tonight. Then he'd get his hands on Cha soon enough. He'd almost gotten her where he needed her tonight. If it weren't for that blonde bitch… Tab shook his head. This was no time to get frustrated. He needed to sate himself and then head home and think on his next move.

Stepping away from the wall, he turned to face the horse girl and chuckled to himself. Maybe he'd release the charm on this one. Hearing the moans and protests might help…

—

The air was thick with the stench of whatever scum had touched her little doll when Falian rounded the side of the Sated Spynx nightclub. If the 'ex' had been in the club, that explained why his scent was so potent and sweaty. The body heat and close proximity did that to people.

It wasn't until she heard the "No… stop. Let me go," that Falian spotted the man though. Falian was in action long before she processed the information, hopping the fence into the alley with ease and landing right behind the scum.

The scene was horrible, the stench of devils, alcohol, and sex permeated the area, foul and disgusting. The tall, crimson skinned male stood over a woman with red hair who was cowering away from him, glancing fearfully between his pelvis and an unconscious brunette who had collapsed onto the alley pavement, insensate. He was bulky, muscular, and intimidating the small woman into a bad position.

Falians leg came down on his skull with a harsh crack, his horn snapping before her shin connected with bone. The man was instantly brought to his knees. His bellow of pain was loud enough to be heard across the street and as he dug his fingers into the brick of the wall, his victim turned and ran, rushing to get away from him and whatever monster had struck him with so much force.

If Falian hadn't been livid, she'd have commended him on his legs not breaking under the force of her kick. Instead, she landed and slammed her shin into his side with a round kick, the force snapping his upper arm and sending him bouncing down the alley like a ragdoll. His pained roar when he came to a stop was just as agonized as the first. His body was pleading from the head and mouth, her kicks having devastated the devil.

She marched toward him, the rifle slipping from her shoulder as she contemplated killing the man where he lay. Yet when her aura, the raw force of her power manifested in the alley, the cold vacuum of infinity pressing into every nook of the tight space, she found the foul creature weeping and pissing himself in fear. She hadn't even leveled the barrel at his face before he passed out under her pressure.

"Are you fucking serious? This weakling who can even withstand my intent was with my…" she couldn't even finish the sentence the thought was so frustrating. Looking down at the unconscious creature she felt nothing but revilement and disgust. While she could have ended it there, killed the failed excuse for a man as he lay in his own excretions, she chose not to. He hadn't suffered nearly enough for her liking. Not yet.

So it was that at 4 AM on a weeknight, an unconscious, critically wounded devil was turned in to the Neo Denver PD with a nice list of charges carved by claw into his forehead.

—