Luff walked slowly through the dockside district. The air was still, devoid of the usual vibrancy of the day time. Everything around him seemed to sag with age. There was a pride nestled within the sturdiness of the buildings and of the shipyard as a whole, but it all seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when the usual tenants left for the day. Rust spotted most metal surfaces and the elements had beaten down everything else.

The perfect spot for an ambush, really.

There had been word on the streets of a faerie who'd gotten herself in deep with the Italians. Well, the Martovannis, anyway. Luff's powerplay in establishing Fix with the Martovanni family had some unintended side-effects. That bothered Luff. So here he was, on the docks at night, trying to clean up his mess. Or at least get some information to make the process easier. 

As he made his way deeper into the shipyard and closer to the waterfront he felt a pang of discontent. Del wasn't with him this time. She had some other things to attend to and so Luff trudged through the docks alone. He'd really come to enjoy working with her. Though a novice at this, she had a real knack for it and her innate showmanship often left him with a faint smile.

But she wasn't here tonight and so he turned his thoughts back to the task at hand. When you're seven feet tall, stealth in the physical sense is quite difficult. In fact, Luff had almost given the practice up altogether. For Luff, stealth was in the planning, the scheming, the weaving of lies and identities into a web so confusing, no one assumed a simple ogre butcher could have any part in it. A lot of good that did him tonight, however. He walked with a purpose, cleavers hanging from his belt and a shotgun concealed under his cloak. He hoped he would not have to use them.

As he turned a corner and spotted the USS Junia at the end of the straightaway, he heard voices. As nimbly as he could, he threw himself into the closest alley and listened. One voice was female, the faerie in question undoubtedly. The other was cold, icy, but not without a sense of mirth. The man clearly felt in control of the situation. If he were to gauge the situation, he would not predict a favorable outcome for the faerie. The voices were difficult to hear and as the cadence of the conversation rose and fell he could make out a few select words. The last of which sent a shiver down his spine.

[i]Nyctari[/i]

So those blood-suckers were in play now. That was good to know but not exactly reassuring. It was dangerous enough playing a game with the Hanged Men but immortal aristocrats with an affinity for the flesh trade were hardly Luff's choice of company. 

Any wise ogre (a paradox if there ever was one) would tell you that there is a balance to be struck between the rising level of danger contained within a situation and one's benefit for staying in said situation. The moment the Nyctari family was mentioned, the scales crossed over from favoring benefit to favoring danger. Knowing this, Luff turned to leave. Or he would have if the cold barrel of a firearm didn't, at that very moment, press gently into the back of his skull.

"Don't move,"