[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/RgGDSMP/download-1.jpg[/img]
[color=6ecff6][i][b]Location: QuikStop, Southeast Duncaster[/b][/i][/color][/center]

	The evening had begun to settle in, its humid embrace surrounding the pedestrians on the sidewalk.  A sleek and pristine [url=https://i.ibb.co/KWYfxpZ/car.jpg]sedan[/url] that oozed with classic extravagance slowly rolled to a stop across the way of a QuikStop.  It's boxy exterior was coated in shiny black paint that perfectly reflected the images of its surroundings.  It would take a magnifying glass to try and find any evidence of dirt on the vehicle.  Tinted windows concealed the faces of any occupants within the back seat, but at least one passenger was revealed when the suicide door clicked open.

	Emerging from the immaculate vessel stood a trim, yet clearly athletic young man of slightly above average height.  Donned in a white shirt and a black jacket, he seemed dressed quite casually for traveler in that specific carriage.  He pushed the door shut, leaving his driver to keep the engine running while he made his way across the street toward the humming florescent lights of the convenient store.

	A chime sounded off overhead as the glass door opened and the young man entered.  He looked to the shopkeep, an elderly fellow who had probably worked that counter for most of his adult life, and gave a small nod of acknowledgement before turning down one of the aisles toward the freezers in the back.  There was soft music playing through old speakers in an attempt to give the store some pleasant ambiance, but the melody soon ended and the voice of a radio D.J. took its place.  As he looked through the glass doors at the various alcoholic offerings of this franchised establishment, the young man stared with hesitation seemingly unsatisfied with anything he was looking at.

	[i]"...that's right, Ken.  It's happening right now at the Unity Monument off the waterfront.  The Red Hoods certainly had a colorful place in history when..."[/i]

	[color=6ecff6][i]The Red Hoods[/i][/color], he thought to himself, catching the words being broadcast.  He didn't even try to prevent his eyes from rolling at the thought.  His family had passed down tall tales about the Hoods' alleged adventures from centuries ago.  Warriors whose excrement smelt of roses who could make the Devil sweat with just a stare.  With a huff of laughter, he finally opened one of the freezer doors and leaned in to grab a pack of ale, deciding to settle for what was available so he could move on with his night.  As he walked back to the counter, he couldn't help but think on the Hoods some more.  Would-be heroes with pointy weapons charged to fend off the worst that Evil had to offer.  That's the thing with telling a story from one person to another.  Embellishments were certain.  More likely this group of jerks were running around claiming to kill zombies when really they just found themselves in a colony of lepers, or burning immigrants from far away lands as witches because they spoke in tongues.  And here the town was conglomerating and recognizing their deeds of so-called valor.  [color=6ecff6][i]Whatever.[/i][/color]  Even still, curiosity tickled at the back of his mind.  Might be interesting to see how this Unity Celebration was going to paint their sordid crimson history.

	He was just a few more paces from the shopkeep when the overhead chime played once more, announcing the entrance of more patrons.  He was sure the toll had become such a common sound to the clerk that he probably didn't even hear it anymore after all these years.  One thing was sure, however.  Both the young man and the keep most definitely heard what came next.

	"GABE, STAY AT THE DOOR!  NO ONE MOVE OR I'LL FILL YOU WITH HOLES!"  As he turned his head, his eyes fell on three individuals with dark jeans, dirty hoodies and bandannas over their faces.  The one shouting was surprisingly slender man for a person who appeared to be in charge.  In one hand was an open backpack while the other gripped tightly onto a petite revolver of questionable quality.  To his side was a husky woman of short stature, her hands empty but her fingers splayed.  She pointed her palms at both the young man and the older gentleman behind the counter, the latter of whom looked like he was mere moments away from having a stroke.  He wished he could calm the old fella down, but he was hardly in a position to do that effectively.  The third, the appointed doorman, was a morbidly obese guy who might have only just recently graduated from his teenage years.  In an attempt to be intimidating, he curled his fingers into animalistic claws and raised them up as if he were prepared to lunge upon anyone who failed to fall in line with their commands.  [i][color=6ecff6]A werewolf[/color][/i], the young man deduced, despite the fact that the crook's form was still still very much human.  [i][color=6ecff6]And a spellcaster... and a...[/color][/i].  The gunman was harder to pinpoint, but of the small about of fleshy canvas he allowed to show between the bandanna and the hood, it was clear he had a particularly pale complexion.  [color=6ecff6][i]Vamp.  Such a progressive group.[/i][/color]

	"You!" the vampire pointed at the shop keeper.  "Open that register [i]now[/i]!"  He shoved the backpack into his thick accomplice's chest and gave her a nod to go fetch.  She complied eagerly, almost skipping over to the terrified man, opening up the bag and presenting it as a child would on Halloween after exclaiming 'Trick or Treat'.  "And you, Pretty boy!  Let's see that wallet!"

	Pretty Boy just stood there for a moment, taking it all in.  [color=6ecff6][i]She's got her back to me[/i][/color], he silently noted of the girl at the counter.  [color=6ecff6][i][b]He's[/b] distracted[/i][/color], he observed of the wolf who kept looking out the glass entrance to the streets, trying to make sure there wasn't anyone bound to come inside.  [color=6ecff6][i]And he's only got 6 shots in that thing[/i][/color], he thought finally of the vampire with the revolver.

	"[color=6ecff6]Right.[/color]" With that, Pretty Boy hurled the pack of alcohol straight at the vampire.  He didn't wait to see if the throw connected.  As soon as the pack left his hand, the young man shot forward in a crouched charge.  The vampire's eyes went wide and the first bullet screamed forward with a bang.  The hot lead met one of the cold cans of brew and suddenly the liquid exploded out like a miniature firework, aiding slightly in shrouding the young man's aggressive advance.  The other two crooks were just beginning to turn their heads toward the action when Pretty Boy's shoulder met Pale Boy's stomach.  Another stray shot fired off into the ceiling as the vampire went down with a hard thud against the tiled floor.  Using the bloodsucker's shock to his advantage, the young man grabbed at the snub nosed gun and twisted it loose from the vamp's grip.  A very human snarl erupted from the fat werewolf as it finally realized what was happening.  He ripped off his bandanna to reveal his absolutely normal bared teeth and sprung forward to execute a tackle of his own.

	With the vampire pinned underneath him and the gun now in his possession, Pretty Boy smoothly swung the weapon out and stopped with methodical abruptness when the front sight was aligned with the wolf's left knee.  Two shots then went out, eviscerating the lycan's kneecap and shattering the glass door that stood behind him.  The big guy, too, soon found himself on the ground in a growing pool of blood.

	[color=6ecff6][i]This is going pretty well[/i][/color], the young man thought to himself, his attention falling back on the vampire pinned underneath him.  Before he could do anything else, however, he suddenly felt his weight lightening as if gravity, itself, was abandoning him.  The sight of the vampire was growing further away as he realized he was beginning to float upward from the ground and into midair.  With a sideways glance, he saw the open backpack tossed haphazardly on the ground and beside it was the husky witch, her eyes ablaze and her palm pointed directly at him, a mystical energy channeled through them and taking hold of his person.  The vampire below scurried off to the side before climbing to his feet.  Crows feet formed around his eyes which could only mean one thing.  The bastard was smiling behind that mask.

	Now he was in a pickle.  Suspended and hardly able to move, the bloodsucker finally felt secure enough to approach and pry his gun out from the young man's fingers, taking back the upper hand.  A bead of sweat escaped the young man's brow as his gaze shifted between the two robbers who could still manage to stand.  The vamp aimed the gun directly at Pretty Boy's head and pulled back the hammer.

	"That was a [i]huge[/i] mistake, motherfucker!" he proclaimed.  In all honesty, the young man was not all too sure he could disagree.  He thought as quickly as he could, but his options were nearly out.  He couldn't move, he was unarmed and at the mercy of a blood sucking asshole and his magic slinging girlfriend.  [color=6ecff6][i]Oh well.  It was an interesting ride[/i][/color], he thought, reflecting, trying to comfort himself.

	That thought was immediately interrupted when he heard a metallic thud and then quickly became reacquainted with gravity and, subsequently, the tiled floor.  Rolling over on his side, he looked to see the witch our cold on the ground with the shopkeeper standing defiantly with a metal baseball bat slung over his shoulder.  The vampire looked, too, and his eyebrows furrowed in rage before changing his aim to the old man.

	"You fucking son of a-!" Before he could finish the sentence, Pretty Boy sweeped the vampire's leg, bringing him crashing down to his level once more.  He crawled on top of the bloodsucker yet again, but he had to move fast.  This hellish thing in a mansuit was capable of feats of strength that far surpassed his own, so the young man attacked him in a way that strength wouldn't factor in.  In a fit of violent aggression, he plunged both of his thumbs into the vamp's eyes.  It felt like two grapes frivolously resisting at first until finally they burst, covering his digits in warm, sticky fluid.  The blood sucker screamed out, his arms waving frantically.  Pretty Boy took advantage of the panic and seized the gun yet again before being thrown off, the vampire utilizing his supernatural strength to roll like an alligator having a seizure.

	Pretty Boy stood up, revolver in hand and surveyed the room.  Witch was snoozing but could wake at any moment.  The vampire was spastic and blind, but was still certainly dangerous.  The werewolf... well it didn't seem like he was going anywhere any time soon.  In fact, there were still two bullets left.  That thought in mind, the young man shot out the kneecaps of the vampire and the witch as well before tossing the empty gun to the shopkeep.  The resulting ruckus was to be expected.

	"[color=6ecff6]Sorry bout all that, mate,[/color]" he called back as he made his way down the familiar aisle over to the freezers once more, grabbing a replacement pack of booze before returning to the counter again.  He put the beer on the counter and pulled out his wallet.  The clerk stood there dumbfounded for a second.  "[color=6ecff6]Seein' as how I'm leavin' a bit of a mess, you think this should cover everythin?[/color]"  He then left ten very large bills on the counter.  The old man's gaping mouth curled up in one corner at the sight of the cash and Pretty Boy knew his offering had been accepted.  With a wink and a click of his mouth, the young man took his leave, stepping over the whaling werewolf and through the door of broken glass.  A crowd had already begun to form outside at the spectacle.  "[color=6ecff6]Someone might wanna call the authorities,[/color]" he loudly suggested to them all.  "[color=6ecff6]They aren't gonna stay down forever.[/color]"

	As he approached the vehicle that he came in, the driver side window rolled down revealing a clean shaved middle aged man in a suit and a Chauffeur's cap.  Beer still in hand, the young man gave a very dramatic shrug as if to say [i]'where the hell were you during all of that?!'[/i]

	"Sorry, Finn.  It seemed you had things under control and I didn't want to spoil your fun," he explained flatly.

	"[color=6ecff6]Ya, ya,[/color]" Finn accepted sarcastically, knowing the truth; his driver was a damn coward.  "[color=6ecff6]Just get me to the Unity thing, you fookin dobber.[/color]"