Vermillion draws her tongue across Straight Razor. A full moons eye watches her stand atop a transmission tower and admire Charlesport like a snack ready for devouring. A long, satisfied, grin.

"Twenty years," she murmurs to her sword, voice a low thrum against wind and purring powerline, "I'm finally here, huh."

Bells woven into her hair chime a ghostly tune as a skeleton wreathed in a baggy black robe flickers to life opposite her position on metal framework. Its void eyes stare, empty but all too observant.

"Is this wise?" its voice whispers, a low growl that seems to snag on the air.

"Yeah. 'Course it is." Vermillion licks her lips, the taste of her prey a phantom sensation on her tongue. Sooty, sour, and acrid. Her grin falters, twisting into a frown. "Gross. What's he gonna do, scream us to death?"

Mr. Skeleton, it seems, prefers silence to an answer.

"Whatever."

Swishing her wrist, Straight Razor sings. Cables part, not with a snap, but a yielding sigh. Laughter bursts from Vermillion's throat as three hundred thousand volts surge through her veins, a pulsating pale cloak shrouding her as bones hum and flesh vibrates like a harp's strings. It feels almost orgasmic.

She aims her sword at the unsuspecting city, utters a string of words tasting like lightning and ozone, and falls. Reality blurs with white-hot speed, then reforms itself around her in a rush of displaced air. She lands beside a bus stop, reappearing in knelt stance as windows shatter, moonlight strobing through crystal.

She tastes people in the air, bland, unremarkable...except him. He's a rare vintage, a heady wine, and it makes her mouth water despite such an off-putting taste. Fear.

"Where you hiding, little morsel?" Vermillion mumbles as she launches into a howling sprint, blurring white and purple against a panicked cityscape. Debris explodes around her, windows ripping from their frames, but she pays it no mind. Buildings are mere suggestions, easily ignored.

She perches atop a streetlamp, a phantom in her sudden, beautiful, darkness. Attire almost glowing. "I can't wait for the look on your face," Vermillion giggles, the sound sharp-edged. Ravenous. Closing her eyes, she awakens her third, a hidden eye seeing in tastes and textures of the soul. The taste of terror, metallic and sharp, threads through air, growing fainter each second. Pardo. Trying to veil his spirit, make it ordinary. His sensory abilities, to detect her this far away, are impressive. But his secret, his sin, is a blazing brand. He thinks he can hide, just as he hid from his Regiment when requesting Earth as his station. Futile.

Her eyes snap open, electric with anticipation. "Ready or not..."

Vermillion rounds a corner, a decaying brick wall rising on either side, choked with shadows and reeking of mildew. There. He huddles at the alleys end, a silhouette of despair, hands clasped as if in prayer. His spirit signature flares, a desperate plea she won't answer. Like he wasn't trying to hide it.

"Pardo," she says, her voice a silken whisper, "time for a talk."

He flinches, turning slowly. His face contains a terror that would be almost pitiful if it weren't so delicious. "Vermillion," he chokes, his voice raspy, each word is a struggle. "Why are you here? You couldn't possibly have been sanctioned on such short notice." His eyes dart to a dead streetlamp, recognizing her handiwork.

"Officially, I'm here to bring justice to a traitor." She steps closer, her shadow stretching, eager to consume him whole. "What, you thought you could hide your infection?"

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He scrambles, his back hitting rough brick. "Who told you?" Anger flares, a brief flicker of defiance. "Who told you?!"

Vermillion produces a low, throaty sound. "I can taste you, dear Pardo," she licks her lips, savoring this anticipation, "a bitter, sour, smoky taste. And...a little something special." Her hands move, swift as serpents, and three throwing knives materialize, edges glinting wickedly in this dying light. A heartbeat later, they find their marks, crucifying Pardo to the wall, arms wide and gushing red. He screams, a raw, animalistic sound echoing in silence. Heard only by those who'd flee or wouldn't matter.

She saunters toward him, smile widening. "Guess there's only one way to find out," she says, her gaze tracing the lines of his body, the way his muscles strain against the restraints and rip asunder in the effort. She can't help herself. She bites her lip, fingers twitching.

"Vermillion, please," he gasps, his breath shallow and ragged. "Tell me."

"Hold it, my impatient pal. After all, you don't know why I'm even here, do you? One sec." She aims her sword at Pardo's chest, a few inches above his heart.

Her bells chime a warning. A skeletal figure, pale and ethereal, materializes beside her.

"If you insist on this course, Vermillion, restrain yourself. If he is still human..."

Vermillion ignores the demon, tapping her weapon's pommel. A jagged bolt of lightning spears from its tip, piercing Pardo right where his windpipe should be. A scent of ozone stings the air.

"Tee hee hee," Vermillion says each 'tee' and 'hee' as it's own word. Silence from the reaper.

Blood bubbles in Pardo's mouth, spilling down his chin in a sheet as he coughs.

"Why?" he gurgles.

"Oh, you can talk!" Vermillion can't help a smug expression. She raises her brows, leaning towards the watching reaper. "Eh? Eeeeh?"

Still no reply.

"Geez, you're prickly tonight," Vermillion sighs, turning back to Pardo. "So, you really are a Vampire. Otherwise, you'd be too busy choking on blood to talk, huh?"

The disguise crumbles. Pardo's chestnut eyes become a dull, twinkling red. Two red dwarf stars.

"You're dying tonight, no changing that," Vermillion murmurs, leaning in close and whispering something in his ear.

"I'll obey," Pardo sighs, blood staining his jacket crimson.

"Sweet."

His gaze shifts to the bony visitor. "So, you've made a pact with the Demon?" Pardo chuckles, but it's a hollow sound. "I don't envy the world I'll leave behind."

A car speeds by a street behind, headlights flashing like lightning. Vermillion sighs, the thrill of this already fading. There's just no challenge in these things anymore. No danger. It will be agonizing, waiting for her chance to unravel the world, but then...

"I want an apprentice," Vermillion announces, "Make it quick, give me some options here."

"So that's it. You're still sore they kicked you out of their precious Academy, is that right? Do you think this will prove anything?" Pardo coughs. "If you plunder your apprentice from Earth, they'll find out eventually. Your station won't spare you a headsman."

Vermillion smiles, but it's a false, predatory thing, hiding a fist clenching in the sleeve of her hakama. If only he knew. If only anyone knew. The day will come. A day of revelry and celebration, a day when her name will be upon every tongue in the Empire.

She pockets what information she came for, along with a cellular phone containing a treasure trove of data, and regards the broken form of Pardo. Another piece in her puzzle. Another chip slotted into its place. She thwips Straight Razor to her side, its edge afire as the street lamp flickers back to life.

"Send Kensen my regards," Pardo whispers, voice fading fast, "you might meet him soon enough, Griffin willing."

"Yeah. I can do that." Vermillion flicks her wrist, and Pardo's head tumbles from his body. Another flick, and a shockwave sends bricks flying as wall becomes an abstract painting of blood. Straight Razor hums as it returns to its sheath. Police sirens ricochet off far away buildings as Vermillion turns to leave.

Finally, Skeleton speaks.

"I advise you not to choose him."

"Hmm," Vermillion purrs, "noted."