(Your target and their allies encounter a demonborn who in the midst of sadistic lust has gone too far and is now filled with regret and self loathing at what they’ve done.
)

For one reason or another, someone suddenly finds himself at one end of a dreary, narrow alleyway. he early morning fog hangs low in New Havens tight stone corridors, softening the edges of everything but the scene that waits. Half-collapsed against a crumbling brick wall, a figure crouches in shadow, her shirt torn, fingernails slick, breath stammering in shallow gusts. Their skin, while visible, is slicked with sweat and speckled with blood not at all their own. Eyes that have once burned bright with delight now waver and dim, wide and unblinking, staring at their own hands as they huddle by a large green dumpster, muttering to herself. She has long red hair that’s haphazardly hanging down her green eyes, muttering at herself. They could be taken as another unfortunate junkie looking to scrape by, but everything around the dismal space feels off. There’s a smell of rot and flesh.

For one reason or another, Luka suddenly finds himself at one end of a dreary, narrow alleyway. he early morning fog hangs low in New Havens tight stone corridors, softening the edges of everything but the scene that waits. Half-collapsed against a crumbling brick wall, a figure crouches in shadow, her shirt torn, fingernails slick, breath stammering in shallow gusts. Their skin, while visible, is slicked with sweat and speckled with blood not at all their own. Eyes that have once burned bright with delight now waver and dim, wide and unblinking, staring at their own hands as they huddle by a large green dumpster, muttering to herself. She has long red hair that’s haphazardly hanging down her green eyes, muttering at herself. They could be taken as another unfortunate junkie looking to scrape by, but everything around the dismal space feels off. There’s a smell of rot and flesh.

Luka kicks his feet up ahead of him as he walks, hands tucked behind his head as he ‘a-bada-bada-bada’s a rhythm under his breath, staring up at the mid day sun. He doesn’t spot the woman as he passes by the alleyway, but he certainly does smell what was in it. He stops, taking a step back and staring inside before frowning as he spots what’s inside.

He steps in, hands still tucked behind his head as he confidently walks up to her “Morning morning, sleeping beauty.” Luka greets the woman in a loud voice from a good few feet away, out of arms reach “Looks like you’ve got quite the situation on your hands …”

Luka will need reposts if there any to be given

The woman stiffens at the sound of Luka’s approaching footsteps, shoulders twitching, back arching like a cornered animal. Exhaling haggardly, her head snaps up, eyes glowering and then instinctively clenching their fingers, peering to the source of that tune that’s far too cheerful for her liking. “Who’re you?” she asks, brushing some of her hair away from her green eyes, which dart around anxiously. Almost as if someone tried to stuff someone under the large dumpster is a tall, skinny man, his upper half sticking out, eyes shut. He’s still breathing, but barely. The pavement is smeared with violence, and the air is absolutely thick with it. He groans feebly, but whatever happened, his jaw is messed up. He can only make the barest semblance of a weakened moan, blood pouring down his chin. He’s aware of Luka’s presence, but his eyes don’t seem to see him. A panicked gasp rises from the redheaded woman, scrambling to her feet. “There was an accident,” she plaintively claims, pointing at the man, starting to spin up a lie to cover her tracks. “We got ambushed.” From an accident to an ambush. “Don’t know who they were, but they fucked him up pretty bad…” she whispers, hugging her sides and creeping towards Luka, her head held down low.

Luka glances over to the man, barely alive, and then to the woman. It was pretty easy to figure what might have happened here. Maybe the woman had just been ambushed alongside him, and decided it was of the utmost importance his corpse was put inside this dumpster, but it was much more likely something untoward was going on here. “I’d suggest you not try it.” Luka tells the woman in a calm voice, narrowing his eyes in warning. “I’m taking this man to the hospital. I’m assuming you don’t want me to mention you were here?” Luka offers to the woman

Boots clack against the lukewarm pavement – the sun’s up, and with it starts to bring some shine and warmth to the dreary narrow alley. “Oh! There you are! I thought I saw someone duck this way, do you need my assistance?” Comes a high-pitched, feminine voice, belonging to none other than Rinwell, who rounds the corner, her bouncy locks dancing with her strides, cheeks barely flushed from a brisk pace under the morning summer sun. She halts only when she catches the sight of the alley’s contents. Blood, the injured man, the red-haired woman, and Luka in his casual air. Her smile falters briefly, but her spirit does not. “Someone’s hurt!” she astutely points out, her eyes widened.

emit And just like that, the redhead whirls on Rinwell, pointing a finger when she notices goldilocks is armed. “Both of you – stay back. He just. He needs time to patch up. He can’t go to the hospital,” she insists raggedly, moving defensively to kneel by the barely conscious man. Desperately, she tries to push some trash and debris to bunch up the gaps under the dumpster. “Just. Mind your own business okay? You two need to look for those fuckers that beat him down.” There’s too much blood to justify a simple beatdown. “I-I’ll take him to the hospital. But he can’t move right now because…”

And just like that, the redhead whirls on Rinwell, pointing a finger when she notices goldilocks is armed. “Both of you – stay back. He just. He needs time to patch up. He can’t go to the hospital,” she insists raggedly, moving defensively to kneel by the barely conscious man. Desperately, she tries to push some trash and debris to bunch up the gaps under the dumpster. “Just. Mind your own business okay? You two need to look for those fuckers that beat him down.” There’s too much blood to justify a simple beatdown. “I-I’ll take him to the hospital. But he can’t move right now because…”

Luka looks over his shoulder towards Rinwell before narrowing his eyes at her, turning around and pointing a finger at her dramatically “Hey! You’re the bitch that fucking stabbed me last month!” Luka shouts in Rinwell’s direction. Oh no, he sounded pissed! He had, however, left his back completely exposed to the woman behind him in his surprise at finally coming face to face with Rinwell again!

startles as the woman turns on her, halting mid-stride with a sharp intake of a breath, hand instantly hovering near the hilt of her longsword, yet practiced enough not to draw it yet. Her expression softens the instant the redhead woman moves to shield the injured man, acting as if she were here to aid him. “O-oh! No, no, I’m not here to cause further distress,” she blurt out in alarm, lifting both hands in a pacifying gesture. Her expression only goes blank when Luka lays a grave accusation towards her. “W-wha?” she stammers, smiling uneasily, recognition flickering over her angular features. “Well. That locket was CURSED! It wasn’t me,” she insists, looking aside and clearing her throat, only to catch movement from behind Luka. “Careful…” she warns the man, holding a hand out…

Just as Rinwell called out a rather vague warning, the redhead crept behind Luka, arms wide and lunges forward with a snarl, the drug-crazed, addled woman wrapping her wiry arms around his torso, trying to pin him against a wall. “Mind your own damn business!” she cries out loudly, trying to shove Luka back and forth. She has no real plan other than to blindside him, and if successful, who knows what. But she’s clumsy, and while moderately strong, hasn’t seen better days since having this unfortunate happenstance with the fallen man. “I didn’t mean for-” she grunts, struggling mightily with Luka.

“Yeah! Right! If I believed that kind of shit everyone who ever attacked me would just pretend it was some shoddy amu-” Luka begins before the woman is jumping onto his back “OH FUCK” Luka barks, grabbing one of arms and leaning forwards sharply, attempting to hurl her over the top of him to the ground “This woman is crazy!” Luka growls in annoyance as he takes a step back from her, eyes flicking to the poor man underneath the dumpster. He pounces for the woman, trying to hold her down, pin her wrists to the ground “You got any, like, cable ties on you? Or something?” Luka asks to Rinwell with an exasperated expression “Don’t fucking stab me again, though.”

“I would never unjustly assai-” Rinwell huffs, her honour coming into question, growing just as, if not even more exasperated than Luka somehow, even though the latter is in a far more dire situation than she is. Shedding any apprehension, the girl with dreams of being a knight rushes forward, frantically digging around her knapsack – she has a thick leather cord that dangles from her fingers as she tries to maneuver around Luka and help him with the hysterical woman. Fortunately, Luka manages to handle her, throwing her onto the ground. Wasting little time, she kneels by the restrained woman, deftly binding her by the wrists while she stares at Luka with wide eyes. “What has happened here?” she frets, balking at the sight of the now motionless man.

in the midst of the brief tussling, the man wheezed out his last – a sad death rattle and expired, dislocated jaw slack with blood pooled deep in his throat.

Luka looks over his shoulder as he hears the death rattle and grunts. “He just gave his death rattle. If we don’t restart his heart in the next hour or so, he’ll ne a vegetable” Luka tells Rinwell as they tie up the woman “Stay here, make sure the woman, like, doesn’t try to stop me.” Luka says, running over to the man on death’s door and flinging him over his shoulder. He starts sprinting for his motorbike, fishing his phone out of his pocket to tell the hospital to be ready for his arrival!

Bound and restrained and facedown in the dirty pavement, the redhead starts bawling, a deluge of tears starting to fall from her cheeks and wet the floor. “Don’t let him die. I can fix this,” she sobs, wailing in the ground. At a loss, Rinwell can only stare at the dumpster, it only dawning on her the severity of the man’s injuries. There’s too much blood. “I’ll.” For a moment, she has no words, but a deep breath finds her resolve, and she presses a knee over the small of the redheaded woman’s back. “I shall provide all that I can to assist you in rendering aid to the needy and despondent,” she exclaims, nodding firmly. Singing another tune, the other woman pleads uselessly, only to start to laugh as the man’s suffering reaches its peak. “…there it is,” the demonborn giggles. “Just like that, baby,” she encourages, now appearing as if she might be crying tears of joy.

Luka shudders as he watches the woman shuddering “Fucking freak” Luka tells her before he sprints off towards his motorbike and makes the rush for the hospital!

After she watches Luka carry the man off on his motorboke, Rinwell is left to deal with the crazed demonborn woman. It turns out that she did depraved, violent acts on the man to sate the highs that were increasingly difficult for her to tend to. With no other choice, Rinwell brings the woman to the Order, where they of course will do their very best to rehabilitate her, a lofty goal that might end up fruitless, but a noble intention on their part to make New Haven and the surrounding areas a brighter place to live in.

(Your target and their allies encounter the former thrall of a vampire who has run away from their previous master. Probably at least slightly mind controlled they’re likely confused and struggling with their decision. The characters need to either help them found a new life, or send them back to their owner.
)

The alleyway, in the midst of July, is busy with the aftermath of July 4th celebrations. People are walking about New Haven’s downtown from the nearby road, even in the midst of the moderately stifling heat. The alleyway of the nearby CoreTech building is looming, and one looking up could see the faint waves of heat rippling off of it, but even more so distracting is the presence of a bloodied, thin waif in the alleyway who, upon sighting Sophie, is all too eager to try to get her attention. “P-please, ma’am. I’m… I’m not asking for money. Please help me get out of here. Anywhere but here.”

Sophie is taken by surprise at the woman’s bloodied appearance. A quick glance around follows before she asks, keeping her distance a bit warily, “Are you in danger? Is someone after you?”

Amidst the pleading woman’s cries, another figure steps into the mouth of the alleyway, their place slowing at the sight of Sophie and the ragged woman. Salim’s sole eye narrows faintly, with his free hand hovering close to the sling of the carbine resting against his chest. “Can’t have a slow weekend, can I?” Salim asks, in a tone suggesting that question was more for himself. Suspicion is mostly levied towards Sophie, but the man’s gaze redirects itself a few times between Sophie and the bloodied woman.

The waif flinches at Salim’s approach, shoulders curling in on themselves as if anticipating violence. The woman’s wide, hollow eyes dart between Salim and Sophie before fixing on the ground near her feet. Theyll take me back, she breathes out, voice cracking. I… I cant go back. Please… dont let them find me. Ill do anything, just dont tell them you saw me.

Sophie glances at Salim, noting his hand’s movement, “I just found her like this. She looks terrified.” A kind little smile is offered to the women, “Them? If there’s beings who did this to you, what are the chances they’ll return?” She glances at Salim briefly with a lifted brow.

There’s a look of cold, dispassionate suspicion ruling Salim’s features as the man hears Sophie’s side of the story, a subtle flex in his jaw indicating at some measure of tension. Despite this, Salim’s hand lowers from his carbine and Salim keeps his palm resting casually against his thigh. “Depends on who ‘they’ is,” Salim remarks, his tone flat but laden with some measure of sympathy for the woman’s plight. A quick look from his eye is spared towards Sophie, then back to the girl, and then over towards the looming building beside the three of them. Recognition seems to slowly dawn upon him, and that tension in his jaw tightens even more discernibly. “Oh, I see. You somehow managed to get out of there, didn’t you? Can’t run any further?”

The waif recoils slightly under Salim’s scrutiny, shoulders hunching up to make herself smaller and her body language gravitating more towards Sophie’s sympathy. Her eyes dart upon prompting towards the CoreTech building, wide and fearful and quickly returning towards the two of you. “I, I tried… I really did,” the waif stammers, voice thin and cracking. “But it’s like there’s something in my head. SHE’S in my head. Every time I think I can get away, she just…” She tries to silence herself, trembling palms raising to hold themselves against her lips. “Please,” she pleads, voice muffled, “I don’t want to go back there, but I can’t go any further. I need help.”

“Can’t.” Sophie says with a nod, “Oh..OH!” A glance is thrown to Salim, “Do you know about stuff like this?”

There’s a faint but audible sound in Salim’s throat, not quite a scoff but more like a forced breath through clenched teeth. His gaze cuts back again towards the CoreTech building, both his good eye and prosthetic narrowing, before his attentions are returned back towards Sophie. “Yeah, I know what kind of people work out of there,” Salim says, voice edged clear with disdain. “It’s The Hand. ‘Supe’ supremacists. Place is probably full of ‘biters’ or ‘tinkerbells’ playing games with this girl served up as afternoon refreshments on the regular. She’s likely a thrall.” There’s pity on those last words, his features softening as they return now over towards the waif. “Means if she ran, they want her back. She’s property and a toy to them.”

“Don’t want to go back, don’t want to back,” the waif wails, though as hushed as she can manage as if trying to avoid someone inside the building from potentially hearing her. “Please… help me.”

Sophie swallows slowly, “Refreshment..” She gives the woman a sad glance, “And if we interfere, we’re taking her away so it puts a target on our backs? Or have I watched far too many action movies?”

The waif suddenly goes rigid all at once, like prey spotting a predator. Her breath shudders out of her, eyes widening and focusing somewhere just past Sophie’s shoulder. From the mouth of the alley, a tall woman steps in with unhurried grace. Her sharp, tailored suit is immaculate, paired with an ivory blouse crisp against her pale skin. Long whitish-blonde hair spills in carefully maintained waves down her back. Beside her, a man of stocky build, suit jacket bulging on one side in a way that speaks of thinly veiled hardware. The woman’s gaze lands first at the waif, and then briefly over towards Sophie. “Come now, Alicia. How many times have we been over this? You’re not supposed to be outside.” Her tone carries a casual chastisement, like someone rebuking a mischievious pet. “Do we have to go through this every time?”

The arrival of both the woman and the bodyguard prompts Salim to move his hand away from his thigh and back towards the hardware that he has as well, this time over towards the estoc on his back rather than the carbine. “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to go back with you,” Salim mentions, his tone not even barely bothering to conceal his contempt. “Let her go.”

“She -” Sophie looks over at Carver with an impressed little smirk on her lips, him having beaten her to those words, “Alicia?” She says instead, directing her attention to the girl, “Can you come my way?”

The waif does not even remotely hesitate, clawing over towards Sophie with no small amount of reservation. Her hands clutch at Sophie’s crop top, embracing Sophie like a frightened child, her entire figure shivering. It’s only once that she has drawn close enough that it becomes clear: the woman’s body is a mass of pale bite marks and scars, some old and some fresh.

Sophie wraps the woman up in her arms, a soothing hush following as she holds her, “You poor thing..”

The woman’s expression falters, her brows lifting just slightly as if in polite surprise at Salim’s words and Sophie’s embrace of the waif. “Oh, I think you misunderstand,” the finely dressed woman replies, her voice like silk and ominous in its cool delivery. Her gaze drops to where Alicia clings to Sophie, and her lips purse with faint annoyance. Behind her, the bodyguard shifts his stance, rolling his shoulders and plants his feet more squarely. A thick hand hovers near his jacket, though he does not yet draw, perhaps assessing Salim’s thin blade with professional caution.

The woman exhales through her nose, amusement flickering coldly across her features as she addresses Sophie. “Let her go? She’s incapable of surviving without me at this point, and not to mention, she still owes quite a sizable debt to our organization. Unless…” A wide, unsettling smile begins to creep across the woman’s features, as she sizes Sophie up like one would a meal. “Unless you’re offering to take her place?”

Sophie looks down at the bloodied woman, “Incapable? She seems like she’d rather do anything but.” She looks up at the woman, her eyes assessing her before flicking to the bodyguard, “The fuck would I do that for?”

Salim’s good eye narrows, the faintest twitch at the corner of his damaged mouth betraying how close he is to abandoning any pretense of calm. His hand leaves the hilt of his estoc on his back and dips smoothly into a pouch at his waist instead, fingers curling around the cold, familiar shape of a silver grenade. When it emerges, held loosely but with clear intent, the effect is immediate with the woman’s bodyguard snapping fully under his jacket to grip the butt of his firearm, tension in every muscle concealed under that jacket.

“Easy now,” Salim hisses, his tone threatening. “We both know that this is.” His thumb brushes lightly against the device, his expression flat and his jaw taut. “Minute this goes off? You’re just as human as that girl is. And between the two of you standing in a city street with Temple Security down the block and a thousand cars still crowding downtown? That’s going to be a very bad day for one of you. You either let her go, or I can give your bodyguard there a date with oncoming traffic.”

The threat of violence seems to spur the waif to clutch even further to Sophie, almost painfully so. “Please don’t let them take me. I don’t want to go back, please…” Tears stain her cheeks, her tired eyes bloodshot as her entire frame continues to quiver.

Sophie holds the pleading woman, one hand slipping into her satchel to curl around the grip of her pistol, “You’re not going anywhere. Shush now.” She looks over at Salim, quietly in awe of the device in his hand. Wanting to ensure he’s backed up she takes a few steps in his direction with the woman in tow to emphasize this point.

The executive-like woman gives off a laugh: sharp, and slicing through the tense air of the tense alleyway with brittle amusement. Her eyes, pale and icy, pin Salim and Sophie both with a look that is all polished disdain. “Oh, you’re absolutely precious,” the woman coos, voice dripping with false sweetness that quickly turns to acid. “Drawing down in the heart of downtown New Haven? In broad daylight? You know exactly how this city reacts when the -wrong- people start bleeding in the streets, and how the Hand will respond.” The woman clicks her tongue, casting a lazy glance to her bodyguard who shifts all too eagerly, his stance a hair’s breadth away from unleashed violence as his eyes flicker between Salim and Sophie as though sizing up who to put down first.

“But by all means,” the woman continues, rolling her shoulders back with smug poise. “Rush towards your bloodbath. I’m sure your superiors would adore explaining to my associates why their pet Director decided to have an unsanctioned duel with a Hand representative, and you…” Her eyes narrow, looking over towards Sophie. “I don’t know what you are yet, but I’m sure we would find out in a most spectacular fashion.”

Salim’s fingers tighten around the silver grenade’s body, thumb resting firm on the trigger as he holds it up just enough to be unmistakable. His voice maintains that previous flatness, but it is dripping with venom of its own. “Try anything, and this goes off. I’m already in the mood to see how a pompous bitch and her lapdog handle being human again. I’m sure the brass will get over it.”

Sophie clears her throat, and holds her chin up, steeling herself against the womans sharp words, “I..I’m sure there’s a way to avoid that kind of drama or political mess.” Her gaze lands on Salim, “I’m following your lead here. Whatever you do, I do.”

The executive exhales sharply through her nose, a brittle smile settling over her lips. Her hand lifts with grace, yet firm irritation as if she were about smack down two troublesome flies but with the utmost grace. Yet, it seems to have an opposite effect: the bodyguard slackens in his posture, his guard and weapon lowered with his eyes fixed firmly still upon Sophie and Salim. “Fine,” the woman breathes out, the word thick with disdain. “You’re free to go, Alicia, but do understand: we’ll be forwarding your outstanding debts to ‘collections’.” With a haughty ‘hmph’, the woman turns away on a sharp heel and begins to make her way out of the alleyway with a huff. In tow, her bodyguard backs down warily to keep both Salim and Sophie in sight until the pair vanish around the corner.

Even with the woman and her bodyguard gone, Alicia still shivers with all the fear that her small, drained body can muster. Still, Sophie’s presence and embrace are a comfort in themselves. The waif dares not to lift her head, as if the threat of those two returning or the woman’s voice could reach back into the alleyway at any time.

Sophie rubs Alicia’s back, the crusted blood and wounds not a worry to her as she looks over at Salim, “Collections sounds bad. We can’t just leave her alone. Is there anything we can do?”

Salim’s single eye tracks the corner long after the pair have vanished, his posture remaining rigid, hand still curled around the silver grenade as if expecting the pair to change their mind and return. Only after a tense beat does he ease off the trigger of the grenade, lowering it but keeping it cradled at his side. His shoulders drop by the smallest fraction, a faint exhale slipping past his lips as the tension of the situation abates.

Turning his attention over towards Sophie and the shivering waif clinging to her, Salim’s voice drops to something low and steady, likely a poor attempt at being consoling. “Temple Security has a program for cases like hers. Humans dragged under by the Hand or tied up into something they never wanted.” His gaze lingers for a moment upon someone, before directing itself back over towards Sophie. “We can get her off the radar. Place to sleep, decent meals, psychiatric help, new identity. Her old life is gone, but… might be for the best anyway.”

Salim’s single eye tracks the corner long after the pair have vanished, his posture remaining rigid, hand still curled around the silver grenade as if expecting the pair to change their mind and return. Only after a tense beat does he ease off the trigger of the grenade, lowering it but keeping it cradled at his side. His shoulders drop by the smallest fraction, a faint exhale slipping past his lips as the tension of the situation abates.

Turning his attention over towards Sophie and the shivering waif clinging to her, Salim’s voice drops to something low and steady, likely a poor attempt at being consoling. “Temple Security has a program for cases like hers. Humans dragged under by the Hand or tied up into something they never wanted.” His gaze lingers for a moment upon Alicia, before directing itself back over towards Sophie. “We can get her off the radar. Place to sleep, decent meals, psychiatric help, new identity. Her old life is gone, but… might be for the best anyway.”

Sophie nods along to Salim’s words, “That sounds like exactly what she needs. And, I admit, I’m glad you showed up when you did.” A little smile follows and she looks down at Alicia, “Does that sound alright to you?”

The woman shivers still, but finally it begins to abate at the promise of being something other than ‘food’ and a ‘thrall’. Daring to lift her head from the crook of Sophie’s shoulder, Alicia trembles and manages only the most fragile of nods. “Anything is better than going back there,” the woman croaks, her face red and stained by tears and snot both. “Can you… can you help me up?” the woman asks Sophie with a tone that suggests that the effort alone would be enough to break her.

Sophie nods, “Course.” She offers the aid requested, without hesitation, even reaching into her bag for a tissue to wipe her nose. She looks over at Salim, “Can you let me know how she’s doing? Is that allowed?”

There’s a slow step from Salim towards Sophie and Alicia both, the man slackening and slowing his pace so as to not startle the shivering woman. “Yeah,” Salim mentions, affirming the commitment with a nod over towards someone. “I’ll take her in and get her the help that she needs. My number is 710-0167. Text me later on in the evening and I’ll let you know how she’s doing.” With an outstretched hand towards Alicia, Salim is all scars and adorned in weaponry, but manages the best he can in terms of gentleness.

There’s a slow step from Salim towards Sophie and Alicia both, the man slackening and slowing his pace so as to not startle the shivering woman. “Yeah,” Salim mentions, affirming the commitment with a nod over towards Alicia. “I’ll take her in and get her the help that she needs. My number is 710-0167. Text me later on in the evening and I’ll let you know how she’s doing.” With an outstretched hand towards Alicia, Salim is all scars and adorned in weaponry, but manages the best he can in terms of gentleness.

“Thank you,” Alicia manages, giving Sophie an expression other than abject fear or sadness. It is a smile, genuine and laden with the promise of at least a marginally better tomorrow. While she seems hesitant to accept Salim’s hand, she nonetheless eventually does.

Sophie nods, letting go of the woman with a soft exhale, “Thank you, I’ll be sure to reach out.” She gives an encouraging nod to Alicia, “Go on, he’s a good one.”

The prospect of being a ‘good one’ is enough to give Salim a smile of his own, though its one tinged by both clear skepticism and amusement. Nonetheless, Salim helps the fragile woman out of the alleyway, hobbling together with her. “Watch it there,” Salim mentions, helping Alicia avoid a nearby puddle as the two of them work towards the opposite direction of where the woman and her bodyguard previously were, and presumably towards Temple Security.