The high pitch hum of the engines drowned out all other sound, making a monotonous and comfortably numbing background for the vampire's thoughts. Mithias' keen eyes picked out the details of the clouds against the starry sky. The moonlight shimmered off the fluffy vapor like pearls. Flight was always so enjoyable. In the sky, the world seem to be so far away. Time held no meaning, and everything seemed to echo an eternal peace. Soothing, indulging, the escape was all too brief. "Brother, you are a fool." Mithias said to himself as he checked his instruments. Thankfully, he was almost there. Martin was higher than a kite if he thought he could live forever without his own body. Hopefully, if Rhyss could hold out long enough, Martin wouldn't have to try. Mithias wouldn't be visiting 'the Monarch' just yet. 

Minutes later, the blatant sound of Nightingale's deceleration washed over the church ground and down the connected allyways. Mithias checked his scanners and set his craft to hover ominously. There were numerous dead bodies, all vampire, a human, a few fires, a van... but the systems failed to capture any live vampire movement. Was Rhyss dead? Was it too late? 

His own adrenalin beginning to rise, Mithias let go of all distractions and went into battle mode. His own senses would be faster and more sensitive that that of his jet's. He didn't know what he would find below him, or if this was his last day on earth. Perhaps, in light of recent failures he was a bit too anxious, more than usual. He shook his head and opened the canopy. Now was not the time for reflection or regret. 

Sending the jet off into a holding pattern, a long-haired vampire with double swords dropped to the ground. Immediately, he moved and listened. he made his way to the van. The scent of blood and the sense for family ties drew him easily. There were bullet holes along the side of the van, and no sound coming from within. Mithias' almost white hands grabbed the handles and through open the doors.