[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/9r1Qgrk/Zeke-Banner.jpg[/img]
[color=f7976a][i]Location: The Last Drop, Blood Bar, Duncaster[/i][/color][/center]

	His hands and arms felt sticky, but wore no grime or residue on his skin.  It was this place... a den of manipulation, debauchery, desperation and wanton pleasure. The first fiend bar to ever open was aptly named Bloody Mary's.  Cheesy, easy.  The landmark still managed to do business decades later.  This bar, however, was a bit newer to the scene.  Zeke looked at the embroidered napkin sitting below his glass of water and read the logo: "The Last Drop".  

	The patrons around him appeared to be keeping to themselves, but only to someone with a shallow control of their senses.  He could hear the whispers and smell the unease.  He didn't belong here and everyone present was aware of this fact.  It didn't matter, though.  There was an understanding known to most of the shadow dwellers, an extension of Zeke's infamy among his less than reputable peers. Translated though the words of a younger generation, the policy was "Don't start nothing, won't be nothing."

	A young woman with more weight in her chest than in her skull skipped into view, her nearly jet black hair dancing across her the tops of her shoulders which were wrapped up in a white dress shirt accented by a mostly red tie that ended in an epitomous blood drip.  She made her way to his table, her stocking covered legs fighting to make distance in her short, tight skirt that matched the color of her hair.

	"Sorry for the wait! I'm Jessica," she announced, her voice surprisingly loud, energized with naivety and ambition.  "What'll it be?"  As Zeke looked her over, he could already see the mark peaking out of her collar.  Her neck was decorated with a rapacious kiss of the damned, her skin broken and scabbed.  She hadn't quite experienced the full potential of her curse, but she would soon.  Zeke was never much for small talk, especially when it came to disposable interactions.  He was far more interested in cutting to the chase.

	[color=d4d4d4]"I need to see Aldo[/color]."  There were no inflections in his voice.  It was cold and matter of fact, carrying with it an heir of authority as the words rumbled out of his mouth.  The young woman raised an eyebrow at the request and started to inquire further, but she could see it in Zeke's eyes.  This was over her paygrade.

	"Oka-... I'll be right back..."  She left him alone once more to sit in solitude at the dirty rectangular table as his massive form took up most of his bench seat's real estate.

	He hated waiting for anything.  It wasn't because he was impatient; he had all the time in the world.  It's just that when he mind was left alone, undistracted, it began to wander and bore into his own psyche.  It would dig up memories he tried to bury, whisper thoughts that he didn't want to muse upon and constantly test the power of his will to fight against his own nature.  History knew him as a grand malevolent monster.  Rouge changed that in him, set him on a different path.  The trail to redemption was set on a steep incline of slippery mud.  It would just be so easy to turn around, to slide back into darkness...

	"Right this way, sir!" Her voice nearly startled him, breaking his concentration and effectively pulling him out of the rabbit hole and back to reality.  With one more large gulp, he finished his glass of water before standing up and following the waitress to the back of the bar.

	He was led through a standard doorway that placed him in a hallway ending in another, much more elaborate door.  The metal sheen of it reflected the lights overhead as well as Zeke's image as he looked upon it.  To the left, in the high corner of the hall was a surveillance camera pointed right at him.  Just below that was a keypad and speaker that had been installed into the wall.

	"You got it from here, big guy!" She said delightfully before giving a small wave, a nonverbal tootles, before she skipped back out into the bar area.  Just as he was out of sight, a loud buzz could be heard followed by the metal door cracking open.  Zeke advanced, opening the door.  There was a metal staircase leading down a poorly lit tunnel.  At the bottom, the fluorescent glow of halogen bulbs could be seen.  The further down he went, the more he could see until he was finally at the bottom looking out to a massive warehouse that you would never know existed from out on the streets.  

	It was a blood distillery.  This is where the owners of this establishment would store, treat and distribute their product for consumption upstairs and all around.  The sound of footsteps, forklifts and rattling bottles echoed throughout the space, nearly overwhelming Zeke's senses.  It was a lot to take in at once and he counted himself lucky when he finally heard his summoning.

	"Bishop!" The voice was accented with very specific mannerisms and a tempo that made you wonder why this man didn't work in a pizza shop instead of the blood bar. He stepped out of the shadows and into the fluorescent light as he walked over to the werewolf.  "How you doin', my friend?"

	"[color=d4d4d4]Aldo.  The job is done.[/color]"

	"Of course it is.  That's why I sent ya, Big B.  Results.  C'mon, let's go to my office."  The vampire extended his hand for a shake, but the offer was silently declined.  Also didn't expect much less, but was a victim of habit and had to try.  His slim framed body was dressed in a black pinstripe suit and pristine black leather shoes.  His dark hair was short cropped and slicked back with what looked like the entire contents of a hair gel bottle.  As he led Zeke though the aisles of product his footsteps were marked by distinct clicks that came two at a time.  Normally, he would use the travel time to make small talk, but he already knew the effort would be lost on this particular individual.  They finally came to an elegant looking door with a large window to its left that used two-way glass, a feature Aldo undoubtedly used to keep an eye on his employees without being seen.  Once inside, you could see a large oak desk with an expensive looking leather chair sitting behind it and to its front sat two guest chairs that were far less impressive.  Also took his place on his throne while Zeke begrudgingly sat in one of the smaller seats, easing himself down slowly to help insure that his weight didn't destroy the pathetic furniture.

	"So tell me, how did the great Bishop Wolfe do it this time?" Aldo said finally, breaking the silence between them.  "Run into any trouble?"

	The assignment was a mission to escort some goods from a warehouse to a private airport.  The rules of this trade was to ask as few questions as possible.  You want the job, take the job, but don't ask what the job is.  You're given a brief set of instructions, an objective, and it's typically up to you how to pull it off.  Zeke was no fool, though, and even though he didn't specifically ask, he knew what he was moving was illegal narcotics.

	For the past few months, he's had his eyes set on finding a man that lived in the shadow.  A nameless puppetmaster that existed only in whispers but still struck fear in criminals and cops alike.  After trying to find the mystery man on his own and failing miserably, Zeke decided to go a different route.  He took on an alias and decided he needed to find the kingpin from within his own organization, starting from the ground up.

	"[color=d4d4d4]It got a little sloppy,[/color]" he said solemnly. "[color=d4d4d4]The driver, he was green.  Saw flashing lights and panicked.  Started driving erratically.  He might as well have rolled down the window shouting at every officer we passed to pull us over.[/color]"

	"Really?  So what happened?"

	"[color=d4d4d4]They acquiesced.[/color]"  Aldo's eyebrow raised a bit, obvious confusion painted across his face.

	"I thought you said you did the job. Did it make it to the airport or not?"

	"[color=d4d4d4]It's in the air now.  The job [i]is[/i] done.  But it was sloppy,[/color]" he repeated.

	"What happened to the cops that pulled you over?"

	"[color=d4d4d4]They hit me with lead when I got out of the car and then they took a nap.[/color]"  Is was only just then that Aldo noticed the two bullet holes in his associate's shirt to the left side of his abdomen.  The skin underneath, however, looked almost completely undamaged.  One of the upsides of Zeke's curse: he could heal quite fast.

	"Why didn't you just kill them?" Aldo asked.  It seemed ludicrous to him that the question even needed to be posed.  In his mind, it was the natural response to the situation.

	"[color=d4d4d4]You didn't hire me to kill cops.  You hired me to move goods.  The goods are moved.[/color]"  Zeke's eyes were stern as he looked into Aldo's.  He didn't like being criticized or questioned.  

	"Right, but now the cops know your face."

	"[color=d4d4d4]That's my problem.[/color]"

	"Sure is, but that makes us liable, too.  You're gonna have to cool off now.  Take a few months for things to settle d-..."

	"[color=d4d4d4]No,[/color]" Zeke interrupted.  "[color=d4d4d4]In fact, I'm tired of being stuck with these little errands. Give me something bigger.  I want to meet the real guy in charge.  I want [i]in[/i].[/color]"  The reaction caught Aldo off guard and the slender man was not good at hiding that fact.

	"Listen, Bishop, they've got your face now.  You're on a slippery slope, big guy.  If you're exposed and further than that, we've gotta cut ties."  Zeke didn't care to respond.  The guy was just stating the obvious, something the werewolf didn't feel needed any concurrence.  As the silence continued second after very long second, Aldo's defenses eventually fell.  "Alright, I've got a bigger job for you.  You do this one and you do it [i]neat[/i] and maybe we can talk a little more about a permanent spot on the roster."  Zeke gave a singular nod.

	"That stuff you moved, it's a chemical that our lab coats cooked up.  We mix it in the blood and it does for vampires what steroids and cocaine does for humans.  Makes 'em stronger.  A [i]lot[/i] stronger.  The wolves are usually the ones with the brawn, but this stuff gives fiends the power to make you puppies heel, you know what I mean?  Makes a vamp physically stronger than the strongest werewolf." [i]Doubtful[/i], Zeke thought to himself.  "The effects are only temporary for now, but the coats are still working on it."  The behemoth in the undersized chair had heard about it before, but had never seen the effects first hand.

	"So naturally, the wolvies aren't too keen about it," Aldo continued.  "They've started jumping our couriers and raiding our warehouses.  The Boss is pissed and it's only a matter of time before this place gets hit.  You've gotta take care of the problem.  Confront the pack, kill the Alpha.  Dude goes by the name of Vance Maxwell."  Zeke took in the information and then waited for a beat in case there was more that Aldo would offer but, as is his modus operendi, Aldo was done delivering any info he planned on giving.  The rest of the blanks were Zeke's job to fill in.

	Without another word, he stood from his chair and walked out the door. He heard Aldo say something about wiring over the money for the last job as the werewolf ascended the staircase and made his way out of The Last Drop and onto the streets of Duncaster.

	Suddenly the hairs on his arm and neck stood on end.  He [i]felt[/i] something. As quickly as it started, it had stopped.  He couldn't place his finger on just what it was, but it was familiar.  He was sure he felt the same sensation a long, long time ago.

	Eventually, Zeke shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it and get back on the case.  Bishop Wolfe had to track down Vance Maxwell.  He just had to figure out where to start.