[center][h1][color=red]The Past...[/color][/h1][/center]
      The noise of city life was something that Devon was very used to. The pitter-patter of the horse-shoes of a horse pulling a carriage, chatter of men, women, and children as they roam the streets of Hell's Kitchen, and the occasional scream of a victim or a gunshot from a Colt 1848 revolver. It was sometimes loud enough to hear on days of a downpour, days like today. But all of this was beginning to fade away in the background as Devon is penning a farewell letter to his loved ones, planning on leaving Hell's Kitchen and not returning. [color=red][I]Today I will no longer hold residence in Hell's Kitchen, the apartment is already sold and my resignation sent to my employers. I have had this planned for months and have not told any of you, for good reason. I got mixed up with a bad crowd and now I have to pay my dues, so I'm moving to a city near the west coast. I apologize for what I brought onto the family and I apologize for.....everything. It's probably better that I never come back, not until I get my shit straight and no longer have this debt owed. I wish you Farewell.[/I][/color] Devon places his seal on the envelope of containing the letter. He looks outside of the window beside his desk, seeing out to the dreary city. A carriage pulls up beside the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex. [color=red][I]That's my ride, I should leave the letter in the mailbox on my way out.[/I][/color] He walks out of his apartment and goes down two flights of stairs until he reaches the lobby, leaving his letter in the mailbox. Devon runs out of the complex into the rain, hurrying into the cabin of the carriage while the driver had the door open. He takes his seat while the driver quickly closes the door behind him and runs to the front and gets behind the reigns. The carriage driver asks him politely, "Where to?" Gazing over to the driver Devon responds, [color=blue][B]"Take me to the railroad station, try to arrive there before a quarter after if possible."[/B][/color] The carriage begins to move with a faint crack of the reigns......

[center][color=red][H2]Present[/H2][/color][/center]
        [B]CRACK![/B] A pale man in a gray suit falls to the floor, head blown to bits, and his blood and brains splattered on the wall behind him. Another man beside him, just as pale but in a black suit and red shirt under his coat; he stands there startled. Devon sits in his leather chair, feet kicked up on his desk and a magnum in his hand with smoke rising from the barrel. He glances down to his own black suit with white pinstripes, seeing small specks of blood spread across the coat. [color=blue][B]"Damn shame.....this was my favorite suit."[/B][/color] Devon gazes back up to the other man, [color=blue][B]"Is there any other news?"[/B][/color] Devon speaks with a cold but calming tone. The man stood there frozen, eyes widened in surprise and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. [color=red][I]Even after given the gift, these thugs have no fucking backbone.[/I][/color] [color=blue][B]"Well? Is there any more fucking news?!"[/B][/color] "No-no sir." The vampire stutters and slightly moves backwards, as if considering to run and as if that would even help him. Devon nods slowly, contemplating whether to kill or punish him. [color=blue][B]"Get the fuck out of here, before I change my mind. Next time you screw up you won't be unliving for long."[/B][/color] The vampire nods his head and as told, gets the fuck out of there; door slamming behind him. Devon gets out of the chair, moving over to the former thrall, and checks his pockets. Taking his wallet from his left pocket and a pack of cigarettes from his right coat pocket. He takes a whiff of the pack, [color=red][I]Clove, my favorite. He had good taste but was a terrible worker.[/I][/color] He takes a cigarette from the pack, putting the pack in his pocket and pulls out a lighter, lighting his cigarette. [color=red][I]Why did I even keep him alive this long?[/I][/color] He takes a long hit from the cigarette before pulling out his phone from his coat pocket. After dialing a number someone picks up. "Yes?" He flicks some of the ashes onto the corpse, [color=blue][B]"Hey, we got a problem.....we lost one of the dens that we had taken from the Nytes."[/B][/color] The voice on the other line takes a long sigh then responding, "Alright. Lead an assault on it to take it back while the defenses are low. I'm trusting you on this, there will be a hit squad there waiting for you." He takes another puff before replying, [color=blue][B]"Understood. It'll be ours within the hour."[/B][/color]


[Center][H2][color=red]Later, outside of the den..[/color][/H2][/center]

	Devon and his hit squad begin to prepare for the assault on the den in a nearby alleyway, preparing M16s loaded with military-grade rounds, and placing bulletproof vests on themselves. [color=red][I]Six heartbeats, meaning at least six lesser races, and probably a couple vampires.[/I][/color] He takes a deep breath before speaking to the thugs, [color=blue][B]"Listen, there is most likely at least a couple of our kind in there, so aim for the damn head on everyone in there. No survivors, not even one. We do not want the Nytes hearing about this before we get this locked down and secure. This is the first step to taking back our city. You, take the door."[/B][/color] He gestures to one of the thugs which still has a bullet lodged in his vest. They all line up, Devon being third in the line up on the right side of the door. [B]CRRRRRAAAAACK![/B] The first thug shoots the door open with a blast of his Remington, then pulling out his M16, and entering first. Gunfire is heard coming from both sides of the assault and by the time Devon enters, those before him were dead on the floor. He quickly moves to cover while being fired upon and firing back. One goes down with a blast of blood and neural matter before Devon finally reaches his cover. He hears a heartbeat coming up on his left. [color=red][I]Thrall on my left,[/I][/color] thinking that he moves up firing the moment he sees the thrall, and fires off at least six rounds before the thrall drops dead on the floor; five rounds grouped in the torso and a single round fired through his forehead. Within five minutes the den is left with only the majority of the assault squad standing and the Nytes dead on the floor. He walks out to the alleyway, placing his M16 against the wall and lights a cigarette before calling his boss. [color=blue][B]"It's done, I'll have the men clean it up and then have some more sent here to secure it. By tomorrow we should be able to have the business running."[/B][/color] He takes one more puff before he hears the response, "Good, I'm glad I can always rely on you to clean the mess when we have one. I need you to come back, we have a problem.." He gets hung up on and sighs. Crunching the cigarette under his shoe, he grabs the M16, and gets into his car; driving to meet his Nyctari boss.