By Crucifix and Kuji-Kiri

Things seemed to have been cleaned up, which meant that the place was a horrible mess. It was down to the three of them, looking around the carnage. None of them seemed to be surprised, and certainly not the sort of surprised that came with not understanding what had happened. No, they were all... aware, the three of them. Taylor went to go collect her arrows, and Lexi gave the big man a nod.

"I don't think I asked your name earlier." She hadn't; nor had he offered - she would have remembered, but people got put off if you phrased it that way. "I'm Lexi. She's Taylor." Lexi didn't offer more information than that, nor request anything. She'd left it as a statement, open ended, in case he wanted to agree that she hadn't and be mysterious. He didn't seem the sort, but one never knew.

Taylor returned to offered up a prayer for the dead: a real one and not the standardized thoughts and prayers that meant nothing and did nothing. Lexi kept silent while it was offered, before speaking to the statements made. The others seemed impressed by what she'd done, but Lexi just shook her head slightly, with a tired exhalation.

"What I do works very well, but there's a lot that can go wrong. It takes time to prepare, and I can't exactly defend myself if I'm laying down a covenant arc. I could still get eaten while I'm doing it - or ripped to shreds. Or just shot - it doesn't take anything particularly spooky to kill a person, after all. I wouldn't have tried that on my own." No, if she was on her own, Lexi's options were a whole lot more limited. Usually they consisted of either run or bad things happen.

She did have at least one other trick up her sleeve, but that wasn't something she wanted to pull out unless she was really desperate, because it could end up being more trouble than it was worth. Lexi stretched her back out, packing her briefcase up again just as carefully, because everything needed to be where she expected it. What she did took time already; she didn't need it to take more time because she couldn't find her squid ink.

"Well. That was messed up. Do you want to get a-" Lexi looked at Taylor, giving her a critical squint and making a quick amendment: "Coffee or something?" Her initial instinct had been beer, or a stiff drink, or several, but it was entirely possible that Taylor wasn't legal for that situation, and if Lexi went around promoting law-breaking, that was absolutely going to come back and bite her in the ass one of these days.

Possibly, she thought, surveying the room once more as she stood, very soon.

Marco's mind was not exactly focused. He took a second to reply, taking a cleansing breath to ease the pain from his wounds.

Up until that point, he had not realized he really had no clue who they were or why they were here in the first place. Sure, he would've taken that blast of fire for a civilian too, but it still made a difference to know someone's name, especially given the current situation.

From what the woman leading this section of the cult had mentioned, they were chosen among others to be the new harbingers of their pagan deity. Since they declined, he could only assume that they would keep looking for others to replace them. They couldn't be the only ones that had something special about them, or so he thought.

After a brief moment of silence, he replied, not wanting to be rude by his lack of response.

"I am Marco. Nice to meet you both."


His head tilted lightly at Lexi's return, as well as at the offer to go for a coffee. How could she be so nonchalant about this situation? After all the horrible things they had experienced, she wanted coffee?

"Coffee sounds good," he replied almost instantly after she made her offer. He was not one to decline caffeine, and there was not much they could do at this point. The ones who had perished were not coming back by them being upset, and the ones who had survived the initial attack had run away successfully once Lex and Taylor skillfully cleared a path. Among the runaways was their previous prisoner, who was nowhere to be found. This caused a slight frown to be formed on Marco's face; he still needed answers, and now he would not be getting any of them.

However, he did not stick around any longer than needed, nor did he attempt to slow his companions down when the time to leave came. Truth be told, he didn't want to be here to explain to the police what had happened to the now burnt people on the ground, it was always complicated to put into words that made sense when it was something simpler, now, something of this magnitude was sure to send him straight behind bars..

So he made sure to relax his shoulders and cover his wounds as much as he could before walking with his new companions outside, staying behind them as if he were some sort of bodyguard. He didn't do it because he doubted them or thought they needed any protection; he simply knew nothing of the area and preferred not to be an obstacle with his large frame.


A few blocks down, they would find a coffee shop, rather normal, nothing that stood out at first glance.

Thankfully, the odd trio had managed to get away from their original location due to the hysteria caused by the noise from the fight and the damage done to the building. No one was really looking for people who looked like civilians; if anything, they thought it was a terrorist attack given the location where it all occurred.

Regardless, they found a decent spot within the rather empty shop, receiving a friendly greeting from one of the workers who had just finished cleaning the table they had chosen. She simply asked what they would have and waited patiently for their answer.

Marco orderer a simple latte and a tiramisu, because, why not have some dessert now that they were at it. He didn't really know what the other exorcists had been given or what they'd done with the money provided before their trip, but regardless of that he was polite enough to offer to pay for whatever they would like to drink, he was pretty sure regardless of how much he spent, he would still have enough to send back to his family when it was all over.

-

The escape of the cultists had been successful, of course, but not without sustaining catastrophic injuries and humiliation. Thanks to the capabilities of their idol, the masked figures had reached their temple in a blink, defying logic and the laws of nature with a single drop of blood.

Their leader groaned in anger and pain. Despite being tended by her helpers, she boiled with rage and denied them the chance to continue helping her, tossing her mask to the ground, causing it to fracture. With her wounded leg and pride, she made her way to a dark corner of their church, kneeling on the ground and touching it with her forehead, sobbing in anger at her failure and the fact that she had failed in front of her very object of praise.

While she remained on the ground, she felt a shiver run down her spine as a pair of footsteps approached her, stopping close to where her hands remained on the ground, clutching the dusty tile floor.

"You are troubled," the person spoke, a sweet, soothing voice. Soon the newcomer sat on the ground beside her, placing a hand on her back and comforting the woman.

A young woman, with blonde, golden hair and piercing blue eyes, held the old witch, hushing her incessant sobbing as the minutes went on.

"Be not afraid, what is done is done," she paused. "But you have caused trouble to the lord. You called upon him without a plan; see what happened to your vessel. Whether you wish it or not, consequences will come, but remember... It is all for the greater good, sister. Go, be cleansed. We will speak of these... exorcists when you are done. Do not forget, you may always come under Angel's wing whenever you need it."

The witch simply nodded, cleaning her tears and attempting to stand despite the wound on her leg, wobbling slightly due to the pain, but she eventually left, leaving only the seemingly harmless figure standing in the shadows, silent and unmoving, like a doll.

There was a soft smile at response given, it all made sense of course. The powers shown were more of a ritual it took time. It was still far beyond the scope of what Taylor could do. The lawyer had taken out a warehouse full of horror, Taylor she couldn't do that in all her wildest dreams. Well that maybe wasn't entirely true, she did dream of using holy water in a sprinkler system. She remembered a movie about vampires who had a blood rave, she liked the idea of flipping the script on something such as that. Where blessed water would come down in a shower of volatile substance on horrors. Again though more a dream, until today she was used to one to may
Be three possessed nothing like that.

She took a deep breath, steeled herself. Then stepped in line bit behind and to the side of Lexi, the wall of Marco behind them. They were leaving and had by sounds of it a heading. She paused for a moment though, what if there was late arrivals? "A moment." A quick look around and s he managed to find an old newspaper, a knife and a pen. She rummaged through the pages till she found a decent blank area to write on.

All hunters need rest, look for a 'wall' 'suited' in 'red' should you be late.

She didnt want to give any clues if the law was to get involved. She hoped though the clue would be enough the newspaper was pinned to the door using the knife. With that done she caught up with the others again. The archer slid in as a seat was offered. She preferred closer to the we window. Eyes weary of the world outside, of what could happen if caught unaware. She tucked the quiver under her seat. She didn't want to come off a danger to the ordinary people if one looked though they would see her foot had the strap close. She could be ready in a moment. Her hood drops an ordinary face with cobalt bangs to try and stand out. The looks of well a still teenaged woman trying to stand out over a choice just for her. "A water and caramel latte please."

She didn't feel hungry lot of the sights in that warehouse ruined such. She knew hydration was important however so chose water to accompany a treat. Once the waitress was gone the red hunter took out the stained arrow and removed her jewelry the cross was wrapped around the end brushing along the feathers. The ank next to the bloody arrow head. Looking about the room she sighed taking a napkin to place over the arrowhead as well. Ordinary people didn't need to see such things. "Feel free to discuss things. Promise I'm listening, just also taking a leap of faith."

A hand, lightly marked by drops of dried blood from her previous act of sacrifice rested on the arrow. Her other hand briefly formed the shape of a cross before resting before her as half a praying gesture. There was power in blood, she knew that well. There was also connections and history to blood. She knew there was power behind faith so she called on it for answers. Ideally some of her sacrifice from earlier would have enough power to link to the blood on the arrow. Allowing something...

Truth be told she had never tried this before. For all she knew it could be as great as seeing through someone else's eyes, as simple as a slight idea of someone's direction, maybe something else or nothing at all. Like she said, leap of faith.

Marco was not used to being part of a group. Lexi noticed almost immediately, by the way he walked a little bit behind them. He was used to being one of those people who was sort of included with the group by default, but never really felt like he was part of it - like if he didn't have a reason to be along, no one would have wanted him along at all.

Or, perhaps he was just nervous and she was reading too much into things. Since Lexi's entire job was about reading too much into things, she forgave herself for overthinking it, if that was what was going on here - and if not, well, she would find out soon enough.

Taylor had taken a couple extra minutes to leave a calling card, so to speak. Lexi didn't rush her, because everyone did things differently, and not every occult profession was as amenable to a LinkedIn profile as hers was. Lexi could get away with her standard resume and a couple throwaway lines that signposted what she really did just enough that those who knew would figure it out, and ask for the other resume, the one she didn't post publicly. Taylor - well, who knew with her. Perhaps she was still figuring it out.

Regardless, they made it to the coffee house without further attacks by tentacled horrors or further inquiry from concerned members of the public, which Lexi had been even more concerned about. Her companions weren't exactly unobtrusive, after all. She took a seat at the table with them anyway, giving the waitress a nod when she came over, contemplating the various combinations of coffee and other things, and shaking her head a little bit.

"Tea, actually," she requested. It wasn't that she didn't like coffee, it was just that it tended to key her up, and she was keyed up quite enough already. "Black, no lemon." Why some places thought lemon was a default additive, she would never understand. The others had placed their orders, and Taylor was... doing whatever she was doing, right here in public. Fortunately she was young enough that they could probably pass it off as a phase, if they had to. Still, a little more surreptitiousness wouldn't hurt.

She turned to Marco while Taylor did whatever, inquiring, pointedly, "So, are you just in town for the convention, or are you staying longer?"

It wasn't ideal, but it might do for some of the eavesdroppers. Convention covered a lot of ground, from strange clothes to weird behaviors to giant weapons that people probably assumed were fake. It was a ruse, but not necessarily a lie. After all, there had certainly been a convention going on this morning.

Lexi was glad to be out of it, alive.

“Make sure you call the number we gave you,” Theodore reminds the old woman one last time. Then he has to turn his full attention to the task of picking his way down the front steps. His awesome cloak keeps getting caught on the pointy hats of the old woman’s absurdly large collection of garden gnomes, but it's only when he actually topples one and hears a faint but distinct cracking sound that he finally relents to pick up the hem and drape it over his arm. It totally ruins the silhouette, but he doesn't feel like paying damages for a job that they did for free. He casts a glance back at the lady, but she’s still talking to Damien and neither of them seem to have noticed. Good. He’s totally in the clear.

The sooner they’re out of here, the better. They’d gotten a tip, something more like a whisper than a shout, of a poor old woman complaining about a ghost opening her cupboards and knocking over her spices, and so instead of going to the biggest gathering of exorcists in the country and promises of ludicrous amounts of money, Damien had insisted that they spend their afternoon hunting rats.

“Like, actual rats, what was she feeding them?” he mutters, waving to the old woman when Damien finally joins him on the other side of the front gate. He puts on a smile for the lady, because it isn’t her fault that her eyesight is going, but lets it drop into a grimace when he turns away. Rats. At least she has the number for those exterminators now and a few piles of ash where there were once skittering rodents. And Theodore didn’t even scorch the kitchen tiles or anything.

Those stains were already there, and no one can prove otherwise.

“Hey, you wanna get coffee? I could go for coffee, is all I’m saying. Rat hunting is thirsty work.” He’s already pulling up Google Maps on his phone, shading the screen with a hand and squinting at it. After a few moments, he manages to find a local place that isn’t too far, and sets a course accordingly. It really isn’t that long of a walk, and he fills the time with aimless chatter until they push through the cafe’s doors.

“I’m just saying, you could have at least kept the money,” he’s saying as they wait to be seated, not bothering to keep his voice low because he still isn’t over it. “Free money, dude. Or you could’ve given it to me, if you really want to be all ‘I’m Mr. Richy Rich, I don’t need fifteen grand.’”

Seriously, fifteen thousand dollars. Who sends that in the mail? The check went through and everything. Theodore is still reeling about that, half expecting to get a call from his bank asking if he’s been robbing people or something. And, sure, he wasn’t going to go out and blow it all on a sports car (can you even buy a sports car with fifteen thousand? Theodore doesn’t know, he doesn’t even have his license yet), but it was a pretty chunk of change to keep for a rainy day.

Or to cover a coffee or two. And maybe some cake. Oh, definitely some cake. “Like, how hard could it have been, really, to just show up and blast ‘em a little bit? Gentle-wise. I bet we could’ve done it, easy, and then you could give your gold-plated sports car to me. Like a bro.”

He sighs gustily as they’re led to a table. “You know the news doesn’t even cover this stuff, dude. We’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Damien pulled his jacket closer around himself, feeling slightly exposed in front of this elderly lady. Granted, her eyesight was going so she probably wouldn’t be able to make out the thin white lines sloppily crosshatched along his arms, but it was a habit at this point. She, of course, didn’t notice and simply continued her ramble.

“Really I can’t thank you boys enough. I’ve never felt safer in my own home, and I’m looking forward to my first good sleep in twenty years. Just call me Rip Man Pinkle!” She beamed in the wrinkled, oblivious way that only the elderly could. Damien decided it was better not to correct her and politely excuse himself as quickly as possible. It was during this exchange and the fifth polite declination of some leftover casserole that she’d “just made the other day” and was “still absolutely scrumptious, I promise!”, that he heard the faint but distinct crack of ceramic, followed by some hasty footsteps.

Graciously turning the leftovers down one last time, Damien managed to extricate himself from the situation and follow Theodore’s trail down the steps. Predictably, he was already griping, continuing on with his favorite topic of the past few days. Damien simply weathered the verbal tidal wave that crashed over him, taking it in stride as he followed Theodore’s lead. He trusted his younger cousin to find where they were going.

“One day Teddy, when you get to be my age, you’ll understand the benefit that comes with doing a good deed simply for the sake of doing good.” Damien said sagely, shortening his strides to keep pace with his cousin along the uneven Boston cobbles. “Besides, do you really think she could have paid us without putting herself at risk? Some of the spices in those cabinets were older than you.”

Damien let out a sigh of relief as they entered the warm space, pushing away the winter air. He rolled his eyes as Theodore once again complained about the whole ‘rich man wants his daughter exorcised” situation. Something about it had put a foul taste in Damien’s mouth, and he’d been doing this enough to learn to trust his gut.

“Trust me, Teddy. You don’t want that money. Nobody who would give away fifteen grand to a bunch of strangers at random came by it morally.” Of course, he’d still been willing to fly to Boston to investigate the mystery. After all, he would be shirking his duty if he didn’t follow up on a lead with this much potential.

“Or it would’ve been nothing and you would be disappointed and pout all day, like you’re doing now.” Damien joked, punching Theodore’s shoulder lightly. “Either way, I lose.” He clammed up a little quicker than his chattier counterpart as a server came over and guided them to a table.

“That’s the way it always is.” He resumed, keeping his voice lowered once they were seated amongst the rest of the patrons. “We do our work in the shadows. We receive no recognition, no reward, except the satisfaction of keeping people safe.” He scanned the area around them, desperately fighting to keep an eyebrow from climbing up as he saw a woman holding a poorly concealed bow and arrow with her head bowed in what appeared to be prayer.

“Hey Teddy.” Damien tilted his head slightly in her direction. “Maybe you can ask her what happened. She seems like the kind of person who would’ve answered the call.”

As they waited for time to pass, the man held a phone in his hands; it looked like a toy compared to his large frame. The device was far from modern, but it managed to handle texting reasonably well—at least, it would have if the screen weren't cracked. Nevertheless, he did his best to find an angle where the touchscreen would still respond and began typing slowly, his exhaustion evident.

His message was rather short short:

"I will take a bit longer to get back home this time. I will be back as soon as I can. I promise, te amo <3."

There was no immediate response, but he pocketed his phone without much worry. He briefly wondered if his mother would be alright alone. After a moment's consideration, he reassured himself that she would be fine; she was strong and independent. Yet, a pang of guilt lingered- Perhaps he had made a mistake by straying so far from home this time.

With a deep exhale, he tried to enjoy his slice of cake, though his mind was far from at ease. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two strangers.

Marco's gaze shifted away from his half-eaten dessert and barely touched coffee. He didn't possess any supernatural abilities for his senses, no way to detect danger or evil souls before an attack, but he found it odd that anyone would be in this area given the widespread news of the damaged warehouse. Even the few workers at the coffee shop had noticed something unusual, whispering amongst themselves while glancing at their phones near the counter, surely the News were already covering the scene.

The large man subtly placed a hand on the handle of his weapon, which he kept by his side on the ground, making it less conspicuous than Taylor's bow. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration as pain shot through his palm upon contact with the weapon. His hand was still in rough shape from their recent encounter with... Whatever those things were, and his shoulder, though no longer bleeding, the remaining stain on his shirt was not exactly pretty, and it definetely would get attention given the, already odd group..

He refrained from jumping to conclusions, yet he feared the strangers' intentions were not benign. He didn't move or make direct eye contact with them, instead, his eyes darted between Taylor and Lexi, wondering if they were also on alert. Perhaps he should calm down; his nerves were firing up over nothing. Still, he remained ready in case the strangers approached for any reason.