It is about 65/i>/span/i18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At High and Oakwood/span>/span(Your target is attacked by a lone vigilante, maybe someone they’ve wronged in the past or someone just out to get all supernaturals. They need to defeat their enemy or survive for long enough that their allies can come help them.
)

Opening the door, Eloa enters shaking her head, “What a raid. Eloa loved how Tamar was like… Sofia bandage me. And then got completely ignored. If she had asked Eloa nicely maybe Eloa would’ve helped her.” The latina huffs a little as she flops down on the couch.

Matias is sitting on the couch in the front room of a Bayview home with shockingly all wooden walls and floors like they grew thesmelves that way. He has changed out of his bloodied raid gear and looks over to Eloa as she comes in having a whinge about the raid. “Are you and Tamar still having a falling out. I would think for a raid you two would cooperate. It is literally hell we are fighting.” he points out in that brazilian accented voice, the tv is off, the windows have the curtains open to look out on the messy front yard and the street beyond. He does have a phone in one hand and is looking between it and Eloa, relaxing.

Fighting hell and yet so tranquil, peaceful, behind these wooden walls that do not creak like traditional wooden houses. It may as well be a classical New England evening as the season edges into autumn. A hint of damp in the air as the first leaves sit upon the ground, frequent rains leaving them to create that first layer that will persist underfoot long into winter. A scent that surely permeates these walls even now.

A scent, perhaps, far preferrable to the Pumpkin Spice Lattes that infect every corner of the campus and have done so already for a week.

A shadow passes the window. A car passing, perhaps. The wind blowing a branch just right. Nothing to be concerned about. Hell has gone on about their way.

“She is bad strategist who has no idea what she is doing or talking about. You hear the recent rumor about her? Eloa would not be surprised even though Eloa save her that one time you saw her in the kitchen. Help her heal. What is repayment? Her declaring to Tenzin that Eloa always charges in without listening.” Grumbling, Eloa doesn’t seem to be too bloodied up from the battle, infact her white dress is still prestine, probably because of some whacky water resistant thing she put on it to make it so she doesn’t get arrested for public nudity whenever it rains. Flopping down on the couch on Matias’s lap, Eloa sighs softly and nuzzles his neck, “And she was all like ohh life is precious. When talking about Eloa killing Luka but like she goes and murders entire truck full of unarmed people after we disable their weapons. Life so precious.” She rolls her eyes. “Eloa not like hippocrits. Hippo… crats?” She struggles a bit with the word.

“I think you might want to focus on, me and I before you try and get hip-oh-kra-it right.” Matias points out in a patient baritone of a voice, phonetically assisting the younger latina as she settles into his lap. There was that shadow in the window but does he look, not at all there are shadows everywhere and it is a full moon too. If it were a wolf surely they would be howling every five minutes announcing their impending arrival and if it is not a wolf than surely it is no concern. The front door has a lock! (it is a terrible lock). “You know I warn you evertime you take up these grudges with people, that it is nort worth the energy. Do you even see Tamar anymore outside of raids? She have falling out with you, with Lykaia, is not like you are even in the same social circles anymore?” ah domestic bliss and supernatural politics… gossip. New Haven tranquility at its finest.

“Hippo-krit…” Eloa tries again after Matias teaches her to say the words phonietically, wrapping her arms around his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Is not grudge. Is just… don’t like it when like Eloa join raid and she tell Eloa to do something even though she is most suitable person to do it then declare to random other people, Oh Eloa is always charging in without listening.. Even though it never happen ever infront of her! She is hippo!” Eloa is the grumpiest of grumpy latina’s today as she kicks off her shoes and curls up her legs on the couch, her toes playing a bit with the cushions on either side of Matias. The shadows don’t get her attention too much. They live on a main road! There’s always lots of cars going past. “Also Balinda say the monk is not just racist but is a… miso guynist? Apparently he hates all women nurses!”

The wolves have been howling quite a bit, but no. Most of those have been far in the distance. Or far enough, at least.

You know, someone would make quite the killing offering delivery of ear plugs during the full moon. People would certainly sleep a lot better at night without the constant awoo awoo happening.

Moments pass and if there were a clock in the living room, it would be sleepily ticking away, easing time into night; setting a tone of comfort, safety, security. All of them false.

In a lull of conversation, of breath, the entire world seems to pause. And everything goes dark. The darkness of a power outage. Everything plunges into darkness and silence. As eyes first begin to adjust, it is clear it is only their house. Or perhaps just their side of the street as there is the merry little glow of the houses opposite casting some light to see by. But as the headlights of a car pass, it becomes visible: a figure in the doorway to another room. Tall, masculine, holding a gun that is aimed at Matias. All black and wearing a motorcycle helmet.

Matias is about to begin an argument (healthy discussion) with Eloa when the lights go out. Its not a concern he looks out to the street notices the other houses still have power, the lamps, and then from his spot beneath Eloa who has curled and perched atop him he gives her back a rub and asks, “Do you mind?” it is when he is asking Eloa to solve their light situation that the car passes, its headlights illuminate the Biker helmeted intruder and the handgun aimed at him, well both of them, but probably his head! There is a dumbfounded *oh* sound and he slowly lifts his hands in the universal surrender gesture though in the darkness before Eloa’s helpful trick one wonders if the masked gunmen can even tell. “Evening.” he says and then tries a classic, “No habla englis.” in perfect fucking spanish.

Cuddling with Matias, as soon as the lights go out in the house well, Eloa starts to glow blindly bright like she’s swallowed the moon because well.. automatic reaction from an angelborn! It allows her to see the masked gunman – hopefully blind the masked gunman some. Out the corner of the gunman’s eye, someone comes rushing out the bedroom going straight for him, some giant brute looking rather angry and rather like their friend avalon which is apparently the first face Eloa summons in her mind for ‘big and angry looking’. “Get down!” She calls out to Matias, using her arm to shield the back of his head while she tries to tug him down off of the couch. “How did man get in! Eloa told you our front door lock sucks!” She calls out as she draws her knife from her back sheath. The lights from her flare brighter, hopefully to reallyyy blind the man while he’s focused on the illusion.

Another light starts up as the room begins to brighten. Because as that gun was levelled, out of the pocket of a jacket fitted with armored plates comes a round device, a white light on the top already blinking steadily. It expands, bursting open as he chucks it toward the couple that had clearly been about to cap off their evening with a bit of arguing and knowing latinos- argument-driven romance.

A neutralizer. The room descends back into darkness. The illusion disappears as if they had never had any friends to begin with. There is a knife, this much is true. And he moves quick, side stepping, but never changing his aim. It is also true that the lock on the front door sucks. But was that lock used? Or was another way in found? There are likely other doors. And so many windows. And they only just got home…

“I’m fine killing her, too.” The voice comes muffled through the helmet, flat. He speaks past Eloa, to the man he is clearly here for. “After all, you ended my world so why shouldn’t I end yours? You and your bullshit promises.” He continues moving: slow enough to stay steady, quick enough that his voice cannot be used to easily aim in his direction.

It appears that the gunmen with their biker helmet which has visors treated to protect motorcyclists from blinding lights! Is not blinded but Matias is and he goes *aaaaaaaagh* as Eloa flashbangs his eyes, protects his head, and they both tumble onto the hardwood floor that makes up the living room. The couch and some furnishings provide soft cover but the circling gunmen is all but invisible to the latino now as dark spots swim in his vision but at least his body partially shields Eloa’s since she pulled him off. “Right… So do not kill my girlfriend. That would be very problematic.” he says in a pained and tentative brazilian accent, apparently he does habla english from his spot laying face down over Eloa and trying to look back over his shoulder with squinting teary eyes that cannot see in the dark at the moment.

Having tumbled down with Matias, Eloa doesn’t even realize that a neutralizer has been thrown at them until the light from her body splutters and dies. “Oh no.. is that.. a neutralizier?” Eloa asks Matias, frantically trying to grope for cross. Its hard for to tell unlike some people whose skin get more scaley or tough or whatever because well.. she literally relies on God protecting her with luck for her supernatural defences! No light comes on when she prays as she touches her cross and it seems like Eloa can’t commune with god, or at least not with her capybara. “Who are you? What do you want? Why are you here? He didn’t end you world!” She cries out from underneath Matias, trying to wrap her arms and legs around him as if trying to protect him. “You have the wrong person!”

“Would it? Would it be fuckin’ problematic?!” Not quite a Boston accent, but close. The man isn’t a local, but certainly regional. Perhaps luckily for the two, this man is… a monologuer!

But then, he would be… wouldn’t he?

He angles over closer to the two of them, digging into the breast pocket of his jacket this time. He comes out with a syringe and approaches the couple. Particularly the flailing one. He crouches down near them and while the helmet hides it, perhaps Matias can feel the eyes on him. “Oh, I have the right person. Professor Matias Alejandro. Ethics, Philosophy, and the right fucking of both.” And on the beat between the words ‘right’ and ‘fucking’ he shoves a needle into Eloa’s heel. A paralytic toxin. Oh, it won’t fully paralyze her. Might feel like it at first. And from Matias’ point of view, it might seem a hell of a lot worse than it is.

“My daughter gets the dream of a lifetime, going to Windermere. Pick up the whole goddamn family to come here to support her.” He’s crouching there now and that gun just settles closer and closer by Matias’ head.

“She talked non-stop about you. Worshipped you. Talked like you could give her the fucking stars.”

A monologuer… lucky… that gives Matias’s eyes time to adjust to the darkness post Eloa moon flashbanging. When Eloa does wrap her arms around his sweater clad shoulders and then her legs around his hips there is a *hrk* sound as she has essentially grappled him! Unable to really move and still having a gun aimed at him, there is little the latino professor can do than track the vague shape of the biker gunmen and his approach. When he injects Eloa with who knows what there is a grimaces and a tensing as if he might have acted in that moment but the gun never dips, never misaligns, and so suicide is not high on his list of options to take right now.

When the gun is placed near enough to his head he can hear the creak of the gunmen’s leather glove and the subtly shake of the metal handgun , his face turns so it has a perfect alignment with his forehead or between the eyes atleast slate-grey peering behind disheveled spectacles. “I do no think your daughter would want her father to hurt an innocent woman. Eloa is a graduate herself, she was probably your daughters friend. She was a friend to a lot of lower classmen.” he says apparently more concerned with the injected latina than himself, for the moment.

Eloa had taken off her protective clogs! Oh no! Screaming as the man comes over, Eloa clings to Matias as if clinging to him would somehow protect the man from the gun and then she has a needle shoved into her heel! Not even like a fun place. Her poor foot! Crying out in pain, Eloa’s arms lose their grip on Matias and fall to the ground with soft thuds as the toxin makes it’s way through her body. Her lashes flutter a bit and everything seems sooo heavy, like she can’t move. “Ma….tias…” She whispers as she turns her head, drooling trailing down the corner of her mouth. But she’s kindof all slumped now, a glorified pillow for Matias cushioning him from the ground instead of his grappler. Her hazel eyes dart to the man and there’s terror in them, but she can’t really speak every well her tongue feels like it’s made of lead so she just tries to look all vulnerable.

“You’re right. She wouldn’t.” In the moment, the man sounds entirely reasonable. He even reaches over with his now empty (the empty syringe tucked away in a pocket) hand to try to arrange the very vulnerable Eloa a bit more comfortably. “My Maise was a very kind girl. A girl who just wanted to know everything the world had to offer.”

His voice wavers. It’s clear this is a man who did, indeed, love his daughter very much. A man who was broken by whatever happened to her. His voice breaks as he continues, but there is steel beneath the pain. And some of that steel is in the gun that is soon pressed to Matias’ temple. “And you told her she could have that and more if she only became your student. My little girl who shone so bright burned.” The press of the gun becomes a grind. If nothing else, Matias will have a bruise there in the morning.

The gunman’s voice raises. “She burned and you made her burn ever brighter until she was GONE. And all anyone would say is she didn’t study hard enough.” His fist slams into the floor near Eloa’s head. “Study hard enough?! My Maise, whose only fault in life was how desperately she wanted to know everything?!”

When the gunmen touches Eloa there is a clenching of the jaw, but he is just arranging her to lay more comfortably on the wooden floor. As she is seen too Matias slowly sits up onto his knees and then settles his weight onto his heels leaving him kneeling, hands held out and partially up so the man does not think he is trying anything. With Eloa laying down and no longer in the line of fire, especially as the gunmen grinds the muzzle of his handgun into his temple. Some would flinch, turn away, let it push their head but at this point there is no dodging a pointblank bullet so with gritted teeth the latino man resists the pushing letting it dig into his temple and bruise the skin. “Maise… She was a good student, but sometimes… The fastest learners do not study enough to keep up with their partial knowledge. It is true she did not study enough, that something terrible happened, but that is not because she was a bad girl, a bad student. It is because she was so bright she burned out the quickest.” appealing to the good traits and the common pitfalls of talented people, those unblinking slate-grey eyes watching from behind disheveled spectacles for any sign the gunmen might be swayed… Not that he can see their face, but still.

Eloa is layed out like a starfish by the man. A white starfish that is probably hoping the neutralizier wears off soon so that she can throw some magic or something at the man. She whimpers a little as the fist slams into the ground next to her but there’s not much she can do really! She’s kindof paralyzed. Doomed to drool on herself as she gets a cockroach view of Matias kneeling above her with a gun pressed to his forehead. Fingers twitching and her heel still hurting because feet things hurt like a bitch, Eloa tries to make little noises as she tries to see if the fifteen minutes are up or not.

“She was too good for this world.”

The words linger for a moment and the muzzle begins to slip just a little. “Yeah. We put that in her obituary, you-” and the gun is right back in place, hard enough to snap Matias’ head back, perhaps even cause those glasses to fall. “FUCK.” A cliche line, but so often they end up there because grieving families cannot find the words and so newspaper editors who have done it time and time again offer up those lines that sound best. In a better place. Heaven has another angel.

Too good for this world.

“You pushed her. You drove her. It was always Professor Alejandro gave me a new book. Professor Alejandro invited me to a special study group. YOU DID THIS. You and your fucking ego. I barely had to ask, you know? A couple of questions around town and it’s like a fucking pandemic with you, man. Most of them are lucky and their kids are just injured, in mental institutions, or live across the world to get away from you.” Whether the sample size is exaggerated or not, who knows. “But it all comes back to you and your sick fucking games.”

It’s clear he’s coming to the end of his diatribe, to the end of his rope. And it may mean that Matias’ time is up. But you know what else’s time is up? The neutralizer. They can feel their powers returning.

Is the latino Professor guilty… Assuredly so. There is no doubt that Windermere the chance of insanity or burnout or outright death is higher than any other school on the planet. Is this man responsible for opening the doors to knowledge better left closed and giving barely prepared adults access to unimaginable powers and consequence. You betcha. Is Matias going to die in this moment as the gunmen reaches the end of his rope and the man can do nothing but take the pistol whipping to the face and grunt in pain his eyes watering from the blood and blood beginning to flow from a minor head wound… Unlikely. Because while Matias might not be able to act under the intense scrutiny and anger of the gunmen focused solely on him… His girlfriend who has the latent fiery latina within her, certaily can. Before she does Matias does offer up, “Knowledge is power and power is not free… Your daughter, Maise, she could not pay the price for what she sought. She was lovely and like all lovely things consumed by something far older and stronger than her.”

A fiery latina would totally jump up, throw some daggers at the man but Eloa has been injected with paralytic. And is little more than a sack of potatos. Still, Eloa is a magical sack of potatos and Eloa closes her eyes for a moment to focus. In the air above of Matias, the air shimmers and little Maisey, Maise, Maiai? Eloa couldn’t really even remember the name of the girl but thankfully she remembers the face of the student that she caught stalking Matias’s office a few times on campus. The girl hovers over Matias and looks pleadingly over at her father. “Papa? Please don’t do this… I’m happy… I choose this. It’s not the professors fault..”

At the same time, Eloa is summoning her all powerful, pants tugging capybara as her cross lay sprawled on her chest. A rift appears behind the couch and the capybara starts wriggling it’s way out now that the latina is no longer neutralized.

Certain things are really, really bad ideas in situations like this. See, two men are having a discussion and that’s not really the issue. The issue is the vision of his daughter that is conjured is accurate… but the way she behaves is not. Because the girl obsessed with knowledge to a dangerous degree — who would make deals without realizing what she was agreeing to — would not have been happy with her end. Would not be pleading for Matias’ life. She was too good for this world, but not in the sense of being a sweet (or professor-chasing) girl. In the sense of being one that was too smart for her own good. Too intense. Too driven.

And seeing the image of his daughter perverted in this way just enrages the man. He roars with it and squeezes the trigger. The house is small enough that the sound is deafening, the thundering of the gun softened only by the fact that the walls are living wood, their porous fibers absorbing some of the violent soundwaves. But softened only barely. And fortunately for Matias, it is by sheer damned fae luck alone that he is not dead. Maybe it was a defect in the gun. Maybe rage shook the man’s arm enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe- but that bullet goes just wide enough that it shears down his temple. He will bleed. He may even have some head trauma. But he will absolutely survive.

The gunman, however, in his rage, fury, and certainty that he has killed this murderer is wholly unaware of the recovering Eloa and her pantsing capybara.

Matias’s head snaps back when the bullet grazes him and he falls to the side… seemingly dead! Possibly just knocked out. Maybe he was just trying to dodge but he is on the floor beside Eloa not moving for a few moments… as the capybara summon comes upon the gunmen. With the implication that the professor might be dead, what will Eloa do to this poor tortured father?

“Matias!” Eloa screams as the gunshot goes off, trying to grab her knife to throw at the man just as the capybara storms around the corner! The capybara goes straight for the legs of the man, trying to knock him off his feet and bites at his pants while Eloa throws her dagger at the man’s hand – trying to disarm him. Her other hand scrambles for her taser and she tries to tase the man’s leg just above the capybara’s head.

The man is pushing himself to his feet as Matias falls back, breathing heavily. His ears are ringing for while, yes, the helmet did protect him from the proverbial flashbang earlier (much as it does high beams coming over a hill suddenly), it does not protect from a gun going off at close range. And someone had bought up the town’s supply of ear plugs, go figure.

Because of this, he registers Eloa’s scream a second too late, grunting as the knife hits his hand. It doesn’t cut him, skating off his glove, but it does hit hard enough to cause him to lose his grip on the gun. He’s about to lean forward to backhand her, but the step it takes just gives the capybara all that much more momentum to knock him to his knees. And Eloa the broad expanse of his thigh for the taser. He’s got armor plating in places and plenty of leather, but none of that does anything when it comes to the prongs of a taser being jabbed in to connect with flesh. Leather is a conductive as well, after all.

His entire body locks up as he yells through gritted teeth, arms still extended toward the latina in an attempted backhand that now, thanks to the taser, looks like an attempted strangling.

Let’s be real, at this point it probably is.

Matias stirs from his spot on the ground, groaning as Eloa and the biker helmeted gunmen and the capybara sort out their intense differences. Reaching a hand up he checks… is there a hole in my head. There is blood, cut, no hole… then he checks his hear, all there no chunks missing. Then he slowly tries to sit up head swimming nausea from a close range gunshot with powder burns on half his face and possibly a mild concussion from the headnap and fall to the floor. He is about to say something, provide some kind of input on what to do only to go *hrk* and vomit on the floor… Yeah looks like Eloa is still taking the lead on this outcome.

Tzzzzzz–! Tttzzzzzzz-!! In the real world there’s nothign to stop someone tazering someone over and over! And once Matias stirs, Eloa doesn’t have to rush over to check on Matias because well he’s throwing up. “How!” Zap! “Dare!” Zap. “You!” Zap. “Break.” Zap. “Into.” Zap zap. “Eloa”s house!!” She cries as she kicks the man between the legs while he’s down. Her capybara meanwhile is furiously tugging the man’s pants down so that he can’t get to the strangling. Zapping the man enough times that his muscles have probably given way if not having a heart attack, Eloa glares at him and zaps him a last time before moving over to make sure Matias is fine. “We need get new lock!”

There are other truths to tasering in the real world. And you have to really, really hope that Eloa has a good cleaning service because Alejandro’s vomit is not the only thing that will need scrubbing out of the floors.

The gunman pissed himself within the first few seconds of being tasered. And yeah, being kicked in the balls really sucked for him. He couldn’t even express it like he wanted to because his entire body was already locked up by all the volts seizing through it. Though being barefoot, it’s likely not the most pleasant for Eloa either. Who knew the worst part of a break-in would be being barefoot??

And while it is unlikely law enforcement ever would have gotten their hands on this man anyway, it is an impossibility they ever would. Old enough to have begun nearing the age of heart risk, Eloa’s tasering (for indeed, there are no cooldowns, no limits, no ‘ammo packs’ in the real world) was enough to trigger a cardiac episode that killed him. And in death, that great equalizer? Well, we all release our bowels.

Perhaps he did get his revenge after all.

Matias looks at the dead man and then to Eloa as he says, “Well its a good thing you got kicked out of the Order.” and with that nugget of truism provided he gingerly touches his bleeding head wound and murmurs, “Can you call the Court cleaners and have this removed. I think I need to get checked for a conc-” and he throws up again… Not the best night.

When the man starts having a heart attack, Eloa kneels in the poop pee vomit and does CPR. It wouldn’t be her first time kneeling in shit for a patient. For a little anyways. She doesn’t try the hardest and gives the man another shock to see if it could bring the man back. But given Matias is higher priority, after half a minute of CPR, Eloa gives up, touching her ear piece. “Uhh need clean up in aisle 7, Eloa mean her house stat. Need corpse collector too.” She looks at herself, then decides it would probably be better to not go hug Matias just incase she causes him to throw up more. Getting up, she goes to the kitchen where a kitchen towel will probably bed RIP’d after the night. She cleans herself off before grabbing a large salad bowl and bringing it back to Matias. “Are you okay Matias?” She asks him, assessing him with a critical eye and grabbing a bandage to hold to his head because head wounds bleed like a bitch.