Where do you go when you're an Abomination? Half human, half angel, all hated? To Hell, Heaven would say. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt ripped off.

Fucking halo-polishers. Glad I take after my mom. Doc Kinski, my dad, used to be the archangel Uriel, but I try not to hold it against him. Poor fucker's dead, anyway.

Rage against the heavens? No thanks. Too much work, no reward. Like staying sober.

Not that I do that much, these days. My new haunt, the Nightside-all tucked inside London like a neon worm in a smoky apple- ain't the sort of place you handle sober. Makes you think you're crazy. Glad I already am.

No Aqua Regia here, or Maledictions to smoke, but I survive. Wanna know how fucked up this shithole is? I'm considered normal here. Can't believe it myself.

I'm currently in a Mexican standoff inside the Fortress- a place where poor sods who've been abducted by Grays hole up and cover themselves in guns. Yeah, aliens are real here. I've even killed one or twelve.

The scared bastards are hiding behind an impromptu barricade. Not sure who they're scared shitless of, though-me, or my 'partner'.

Shotgun Suzie-and I though I had a dumb nickname-looks like an Aryan Hell's Angel, and carries a shotgun filled with rounds enchanted in ways I've never even heard off. People are more spooked by the crazy bitch wielding it, though. I kill for fun, but she does it to avoid paperwork.

Suzie always brings her targets back dead, whatever the contract says-you wanna argue with her? I wouldn't, and I can wear bullets in my chest like piercings.

Her current mark is hiding in the Fortress, officially neutral ground in the Nightside. Not that she cares.

We met when I fell from the sky, during one of her bounty hunts. She'd thought I was some bodyguard hired by her target, and had shoved her shotgun down my throat. Kinky.

After I'd gestured for her to take the fucking thing out, I'd explained my situation- at least my half. She'd cashed in the bounty, then surprisingly taken me on a walk through town, to familiarize myself with it.

"Why?" I'd asked.

"Because I was once lost, too. "

Heh. Monsters like us stick together.

Now, I work as a merc in the Nightside. I have my Colt, my black blade-can cut anything and open any lock- and my Key. It opens the Room of Thirteen Doors:a place that leads everywhere in the universe, untouchable by God or Lucifer. It also lets me walk through and take things through shadows, which is pretty fucking handy.

My angel side-and only it, for some reason- seems weakened here, though. I can summon my gladius, my flaming angelic sword, not that it flames anymore. Its glow is faded. I don't know why, but it unsettles me.

My angel side-Saint James-,on the other hand, is fucking terrified. When I can even get him talking, he babbles about great experiments and 'her' work.

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No way that'll bite me in the ass later.

"Think they'll come out?" I ask casually. Suzie glares at me. She usually reminds me of my fierce girlfriend, Candy.

"Why don't you ask them nicely, Stark?" Now, though, she reminds me of my asshole roommate, Kasabian.

I miss them. Vidocq, too. The old alchemist who was my only real father.

I turn to look at the barricade. "We can do these two ways, folks: you come out, or I walk through a shadow and give you a new haircut." I take out my na'at, my shapeshifting Hellion weapon, and morph it into a blade. "Snicker-snack."

While I'm grinning and gloating like a fucking Bond villain, the doors burst open behind me.

No. Never again. No more fucking surprises.

The newcomers are both known and not to me: Jason Wolfe, the Blue Wolf ( fucking original, I know), occassional merc and bouncer at Strangefellows.

The other two are new. Dick Hardy's newest impersonator and his bird who's nothing but trouble, it seems. I glare at them.

"Wolfe? The fuck are you doing here? Tell Morosey I'll pay my tab later, after he fucks off."

Wolfe growls. Rawr. Shaking in my high heels, right here.

"It's not that, Stark," he rumbles. He makes my smoker's drawl sound like a toddler on helium. "We're searching for a missing kid. A girl."

I turn, Suzie and the probe-dodgers forgotten.

"Kidnapped?" I ask. Dick Harder shakes his head.

"Runaway." I walk to join them. Some shit I won't put up with. Whoever let a kid come to this nightmare, I'll stick my foot so far up their ass they'll be shitting down my boots. Was he this girl's dad, or just hired to find her?The dame-her mom?- walks forward.

"Are you...Sandman Slim?" Fucking nickname. "I've heard of you, from Mr. Wolfe."

Fucking fantastic. Clifford, the Big Blue Wolf, is telling stories out of school. Just 'cause I laughed when he piledrived a werewolf...

Dick, in his white trenchcoat-pussy, does he expect not to get blood on him?- extends his hand. "John Taylor. Nice to meet you, Mr. Slim." Oh, you fucker.

"I doubt it is. Now, are we gonna stand around yapping, or find that missing kid-"

"Stark! Get your arse back here or you lose your half." Fucking banshee. I glare at Suzie over my shoulder.

"Fuck off, Suzie. No one came to find you when you came here. Do you want this girl to end up like you?" She holds my glare briefly, then huffs, holstering her gun. I turn to Taylor.

"So, you're Dresden's predecessor, eh?

"Dresden?"

"The Arcane Eye. Wizard investigator."

"Is that his nickname? Does he set stuff on fire?"

I grin, as does Wolfe. Suzie scoffs.

"Oh, you have no idea."