[url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrVMzDw7ncs[/url]

How easy it would have been to cause a little mayhem in this place, to shatter this false sense of security that was harboured by the addicts and the ignorant of Tyre district. Every time she came here it was the same, they seemed almost oblivious to the fall of their world, to the fact that only three months ago the entire planet had been bought to its knees in humiliation and subjugation to the unknown force that buzzed in Maya’s veins. 

Their bright lights and their noise, it had been overwhelming for a long time, it had fallen so quiet Downtown, one could hear the crickets in the grass or the branches of the scattered trees weep in the night air. Back home the sound of the buildings groaning as the day came to an end and then again in the morning as they cracked and flexed, waking with the sun. 

So quiet, so still, like a grave. 

Of course, there was no jealousy, no, the silly little meat sacks and their lavish life style meant that soon enough there would not be enough to go around, money would run out, food would run out, electricity would blow out and then? Then they would be easy pickings for the Toxins, they would succumb to the power that ran in their veins and with an army that large, taking on the Chimera would be easy. Although, that didn’t seem to be what Maya wanted just yet, perhaps she still was considering an alliance with the Chimera? They had more in common together than they did with Tyre? 

It hardly mattered of course, she was but an instrument of her boss and she had been given a task to do, with all the lights and the sense of safety that Tritech instilled in their citizens no one suspected a Toxin to walk among them, no one looked too long into the deep shadows thrown by the neon lights that lit every pavement. 

Nestled in one of these dank, dark spots was Amala, her eyes trained on a certain club, run by a certain company, Lucky Chance. She had remained nestled with only a rat as her company for over an hour, watching the humans queue round the block for a chance to get into the building. A small smirk on her lips as she watched people push and pull and bicker among themselves, they were almost identical to the infected. Over the traffic and thumping music she heard mutters and gasps about the wonder boy himself, Chance Junior, and  gossip and rumours about his father. 

Eventually the rabid fans were whipped into a frenzy by a group of men, the vehicle they got out of –pretentious as it was- blocked her view of the fellows that stepped out. Shifting her position slightly she took the small, sliding camera from her pocket, forcing the flash off she readied herself for the shots she needed. When finally the crowds parted enough to showcase the chosen ones she snapped the pictures. All but one had slipped inside, this one she had heard was the son of the infamous Mr. Chance, lining up she took the shot and then she paused. 

There was something familiar...something almost.

[i] The clinking of crockery and the smell of roasted coffee beans permeated the small cafe, it wasn’t the biggest place, nor was it the best. Tucked in the corner of a quiet part of town, most business men would pop in here for a cup of something hot and strong before commuting to work, or indeed returning home for the night. The place was discrete and so were its workers, a nice quiet nook for those who knew how to find it. 
“Hey Amala.” A dark blonde woman, forty if she was a day, beckoned her to the counter with a maternal smile, “Your regular is back, you want to take him his coffee?”
“My regular? Didn’t think we believed in claiming customers.”
“The others are a bit intimidated by him, he’s not very...friendly.” Amala giggled –she giggled?- and shook her head, taking the coffee cup and approaching the table. The man had large hands, it surprised her for some reason, they weren’t the hands of a man who had never worked a day in his life but by all accounts he had seemed....what did he seem? The newspaper he held was pulled open, covering his face from her view. [/i]

The rat hopped off the bin she’d been perched on and she was jolted from whatever that had been. The man had gone from sight. Watching her furry friend scurry away and out into the street Amala made a judgement call. She had overheard the bouncer say that Chance Snr wouldn’t be around for another hour, that was...unacceptable. 

With a modicum of effort she slipped through the streets, hood pulled high and fingers clenched into a fist at her side. There was a reason she was asked to do this, of all her gang she was the one who most passed as human but above that, above all that...

A drunk, reeking of fermented hops and reeling around the street like a snake bumped into her, she bounced off of Amala’s chest and with a snicker befitting some kind of jackal threw her arms around Amala. She slurred something, something Amala could not hear as the rush of her blood demanded her into action. The drunk woman leaned up, reached for the hood all the time using Amala’s body for her support. Her blood screamed, it was so painful, every muscle burned with desire. Then a friend of the woman’s came, brushed her away and uttered apologies and the two slunk off. 

... her blood didn’t have complete control of her.

Amala stopped biting her lip, a drop of blood beading and running down her chin as she released the breath she had held. It would be so easy, she could almost see it. 

[i] The woman would scream as she saw Amala’s eyes glow dark beneath the hood, she’d run but Amala would catch her, she’d pierce her heart with the blade she used and then she’d set the woman loose. They would come under attack, of course they would but she would be free to do what she wanted, she would be a force of destruction that few could defy in this soft part of town. When it was all done she would be there, blood would cover her and the shambling masses that had been so desperate to catch a glimpse at some rich boy would be her army, they would spread causing chaos and disorder as they went, rendering this false reality to dust. It was beautiful.[/i]

She shivered and put such thoughts out of her mind, when she returned home she’d have to find someone to work the fervent desire out with. Perhaps someone who didn’t deserve this gift, perhaps someone strong, who could take the damage she’d deal out and survive it. Rolling her shoulders she continued through the shadows, heading to the back of the Lucky Chance. The service door was open a crack, likely someone had taken a break and forgotten to shut it behind them. Lowering her hood and tying back her hair she slipped out of her coat and hung it on a dumpster by the door. Then carefully she slipped inside.

It took a good half an hour to get through the corridors and to the doors that lead to the toilets, having to avoid being spotted and blend in. Though finally she made it out onto the floor, the lights inside were worse, the noise of the people reminded her of locusts and was only drowned out by the thumping music, the bass felt through the soles of her shoes. Many of the people were on the floor, dancing –or she assumed it was dancing- and drinking. It would be so very easy, her blood called to her, caged in here like animals she could turn a dozen of them before anyone noticed. She bit her lip again, she had at least twenty minutes to go before Chance Senior arrived, she’d have to find a way to kill some time. 

The bar seemed a safe bet, it was also the best way to get information, making her way through the bodies of people was not an issue. Whether by obvious intent or subconscious desire people moved from her, like fish might move from a shark amongst its shoal. Effortless she slipped up to the bar and found herself leaning against it. She listened to the voices around her for anything of importance, the bar tender briefly getting her attention by pressing a cold glass of something toxic green into her hand and gesturing down to the other end of the bar.