[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/eE6lcKb.png[/img]

[h2]Lost Haven, Maine[/h2]

June 31st, Late night[/center]

Corporal Roger Anderson was walking his beat through one of the dirtier, but safer, sections of low town. He liked his job, especially on nights like this one. He would bust a few people, make some waves, and start his rise up through the ranks. One of these days. For now, his rather ample belly and thinning blonde hair did not endear him to his higher ups in terms of physical fitness, but he did receive glowing commendations on attention to detail and honesty, things found in short supply these days.

Ever since the metahumans had defeated the Hounds of Humanity, the town had settled down only a little. The number of officers killed or retired by action, and the ones who had transferred to safer cities, had left the force notably thinned. And with the foreign gangs like the Yakuza and those weird ones with the flowers still active, the city was still a tinderbox. Quieter beats like this one, down near the point of the city, were hard to find, and he was more than thankfully for the break.

Near one in the morning, by his shiny little gold watch, he heard the shouts and thumps of a street fight of some sort down an alley off of Faraday Street and Nolton Avenue. He radioed in and approached cautiously. Several officers had reported grisly murders and partial rumours of cannibalism in this area, so he pulled his gun out, thumbed off the safety, and Proceeded With Caution, by the book. Nothing in the book could have prepared him for the sight he was presented with coming around a bend in the alley.

A street child of dark hair and complexion bolted past him, screaming about drug dealers and death, and when the police officer glanced back towards the commotion, he saw why. The remains of a thin man in a ragged coat and knit cap were crumpled against a rough brick wall opposite him, in a spreading pool of blood from what he had to assume was a knife wound. Another corpse was splayed face down across a dumpster lid, twitching. There were bloodstains everywhere, and the single lightbulb over a door into the building above him was flickering. The shadows were everywhere, so he switched on his flashlight and moved to check the pulse of the first body. No pulse. He turned to the second and had to fight down an urge to vomit, which he failed to do. 

The man on the dumpster was missing everything below the sternum, and it seemed to be spread across the alley for several yards. After catching his breath and retching once more, Anderson panned the beam of his flashlight across the darkened alley. Nothing but a couple of trashbags and an old mop head, all covered in blood. He clicked his radio on. "Dispatch, this is Badge 3290, over." 
The voice came crackling back. "Go ahead, 3290". 

"I have a multiple homicide at...34671 East Nolton, request backup and coroner, over." 

"Roger that, 3290. Back up en route. Seven minutes, over." 

"Roger that. Tell them to bring the K9 unit. 3290 o-"

The bags had moved. He was sure of it. He levelled his gun at them. "Come out with your hands where I can see them!" he shouted.

Not only did the bags shift. They slid, and his mind screamed at him that what he was seeing could not possibly be real. The 'old mop head' was actually a real head of black, wavy hair, matted with blood. Attached to a woman, really pretty except for the blood, wearing...nothing? But right where her body should be splitting into legs, and really just below her navel, his mind did not want to comprehend. The 'trash bags' had been the coils of a massive snake. At first glance he thought she was being eaten, but then his brain finally caught up with the situation, and he saw that they were one and the same. And, strangest of all, she was staring at him with those green eyes, with her hands in the air, a questioning look on her face as her eyes dropped to the gun. "Fuck!" Anderson shouted. "Dispatch, send the fucking army! It's some sort of-" There were nothing but screams and one single shot from his gun over the radio. The only thing Anderson's backup found were three bodies instead of four, and a reason to have a funeral in the next few days. 

[hr]

[center]The Next Morning[/center]

Berenice swept along the dawn breeze, riding high up over the wispy mists that were still clinging to the city and settling in for a glide over her new nest area. Parts of her brain were, even after a month, getting used to sharing with so many people, but at least she knew better than to sing except when she was alone. She did so now, letting a tune rip away into the winds as she passed high over the University, before wheeling back around and heading for her home.

Coming in for a landing, she gripped tightly onto the wooden rails built specifically for her to land on, the hopped down and crossed the short little plaza and over to her nest, which now was a fully fledged thing, packed with straw, warm cloth, and covered by a heavy tarpaulin that kept everything from getting mouldy. The entire nook was festooned with wind chimes, bits of wire twisted into shapes, several mirrors, and bits of bones delicately carved by the Clan for her. The area directly behind her corner was a little halfwall, where she might have looked out over the street below, except that it was now covered in a riot of greenery growing in soil she had carted up herself. Things that Carrie had said weren't even supposed to grow here were thriving, many of them tropical and several fruit bearing. 

In fact, excepting the tiny plaza and building the Clan lived in, the entire flat area of the roof was given over to greenery, all carefully hidden by spells so they wouldn't get in trouble. Her favourite was the banana tree, which Carrie had just shook her head at and gone downstairs saying something about a headache. Most of its root structure, with so many other, grew down the corner of the building, covered in symbiotic ivy that hid it from view. This gave the Clan their highway down to forage in the city.

They had brought up sticks, mud, and other materials with her help and had built a village next to her nest, with a tiny mosaic plaza for meeting and weapons practise. A large wooden tub behind that held their water supply. The village was now capable of making metal tools, and were slowly growing as the children grew. At this point it was nearly thirty structures, all several floors tall, which came up to around Berenice's knee joints when she went past. Also present was a windmill, and a little thing that they had said contained the best of everything, but it wasn't ready yet. She just nodded and let them alone. While part of the Clan, she was too big to be a part of any of the ceremonies so far, though Sunheart had informed her many new ceremonies were necessary due to their new lifestyle.

Berenice settled down into her nest, watching the tiny children play in the soil near the raspberry bush. Sunheart climbed up next to her from her hut, built into the base of the nest, and settled down on her forearm as she leaned forward. They sat like that for long enough that the sun had risen beyond the siren's field of vision before she bestirred herself. Sunheart climbed up into the “saddle” on her belt, a small padded pouch with some travelling gear stored in it, and then Berenice made her way over to the banana tree, hopping and flapping once to reach one of the bunches and pluck two off of it before falling back down. She unwrapped one and ate it in just a few bites, bringing the other one over and setting it down next to the plaza, where several men ran over to begin cutting it down for their meals.

[color=82ca9d]This is nice, Sunheart,”[/color] she said, staring around. Her feather ruffed slightly. [color=82ca9d]”And I have gotten lots of practise. But Sebastian has not come after us yet. Why?”[/color]

Her little companion shrugged from her perch on the belt. [color=fffacd]”I do not know, Skysong. Perhaps he has killed himself with foolish magic.”[/color]

[color=82ca9d]”I think that would be too easy. The car tunes always have the bad man come back every time. I do not think we should relax too much.”[/color]

[color=fffacd]”Well, we will keep practicing, then, and meet whatever comes with ready hearts and sharpened spears.”[/color]

Berenice nodded, and hop-skipped her way to her little launching pad. It was time to head to the woods for practise time. She would practise here, but Carrie had warned that her magic was too powerful to be near innocent people, so she had to practise out in the woods. And today, she was going to see if she could get Charlie on the phone by herself, afterwards!