Victoria watched the suspicious door to the unmarked building for the unusual activity she had spotted earlier and waited for a what seemed like hours. Until she spotted one person she recognised. The man who attacked Vail and hit her with his gun. The Saint. She narrowed her eyes as she saw him go inside. What business would a Saint have going in there? She crept over and watched him descend the stairs under the building to a basement door. She peeked over the railing above and saw him knock a peculiar knocking pattern, it was almost Morse code. Which her father had taught her. She listened carefully to the knock and she watched the door open, the Saint slipped in and the door shut behind her and the sound of a bolt slid across the frame followed suit. 

The Lady frowned as she may have stumbled onto something. She straightened her jacket and held her head high. Time to be the best damn actress London had ever seen. She had the flair for the performance arts, singing and dancing at her parties and acting when it came to the theatrics of those performances. Or at least try to pass for someone who belonged in there. With a purse full of coin inside her riding boot and dagger concealed in the other, she strode down the steps taking in a deep breath. She wondered what she had stumbled upon. Was it The Order’s HQ? It couldn’t be, this building was way too small. She proceeded toward the doorway, she felt her heart thump in her throat. She raised her hand and commenced the knock she had heard the Saint make. The door opened to her and she stepped inside. She found herself in a store like environment. Black arms dealers. Bingo!

The person who operated the door didn’t give her a sideways glance, they believed she belonged here. That was one obstacle down. She glanced the room, it was filled with shady looking people, ruffians and scoundrels. She spotted the Saint across the room and immediately turned around to keep her face hidden from him. She perused the arms on the tables. Nothing was price marked, she overheard bartering and haggling from the various punters. She then laid her eyes on a very ornate silver pistol. She gasped at its beauty and hovered her fingers over it. The man selling the weapon noticed her eyeing it up. “She’s a bute ain’t she?” He asked her as she looked up at the brown eyed, grey haired male. She nodded. “Very.”

“What’re you after?” He asked with folded arms. “Um…I was after a pistol and a large amount of silver bullets…”

The room went quiet, she looked around sheepishly. “Ah. Vampire Hunter eh?” The man assumed, in a way she could class herself as that because she was going to hunt Spencer. So, she nodded at him. “Well I’d recommend this one.” He held up a Flintlock. “Powerful recoil. Good blast right to the heart. Boom.” He pointed it at her chest and pretended to pull the trigger. She nodded carefully. He could tell she knew nothing about guns. “How much?”

“One hundred pounds for the gun. Two hundred for a case of silver bullets to go with it.” She pondered, “Alright…” She shrugged and as she was to pay the man, she felt a hand on her shoulder and force her to spin around. She almost yelped but the man was pushing her away from the merchant. She wriggled from out of his grasp and turned to punch him but as she got a good luck at his face, she gasped. “You!” She pointed in annoyance at the Saint.

“You clearly don’t know what you’re doing. He was about to rip you off with the shittiest gun against a vampire. You wouldn’t last two seconds.” The Saint declared and folded his arms as he looked at the Lady with disappointment. “Your father would be turning in his grave.” He said as Victoria slapped him suddenly. “Don’t you DARE talk about my father!”

The Saint sighed and rubbed his cheek. “Guess I deserve that…vampire sympathiser…” He growled. She pouted as she turned away from him. The Saint followed her back to the merchant. Before she could open her mouth, the Saint stepped in. “Give her the Ruger Blackhawk 45 Long Colt and don’t fleece the Lady this time, Paul.” The Saint dictated to the merchant, who nodded and began to box up the gun and a case of bullets. Victoria blinked at the Saint who had just aided her. She looked puzzled as to why he had helped her. As he turned to walk away, she grabbed his elbow. “Wait. You knew my father?”

“I know [i]of[/i] Lord Crest, I never really met him though.” He revealed. Victoria looked more disappointed than ever. “Oh...I see…well thanks for the help anyway Sir…” She let him go and turned to pick up her boxes, which she paid £150 for. They were quite heavy, but she managed to pick them up and walked to the door. The doorman opened it for her, she turned back to ask him name, but he was suddenly gone. Whoever he was, she knew it wasn’t Gerald. But perhaps he knew him. She had a feeling she would bump into him again at some point in the future. 

Upon ascending the stairs, carrying her boxes of ammo she headed for home with a sigh. There was a slight nip in the air to which whisked her breath away. In a way she had been fruitful, but she was no closer to finding the truth. But with a pistol and silver bullets within her grasp, she could fight back at Spencer. If she could get a confession out of him then it would at least be a start.