What supernatural entities did he know of that had the power to copy other supernatural powers?
Christian knew about plenty of creature’s, from vampires to werewolves, trolls, goblins and more. He must have fought and slain over five dozen different types of supernatural being during his time as a Warrior for the Executioners, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of one that had the ability to copy or steal powers. Vampires had supernatural strength, werewolves speed, goblins were a race of bloodthirsty and greedy creatures, trolls were large and physically imposing, and ogres were able to spit out terrible globs of highly acidic saliva that could melt through concrete in seconds.
Yes, Christian had a well-spring of knowledge about the supernatural world, or at least knowledge about the various powers and abilities of specific supernatural creatures. Yet, even with all the information he had acquired in his life, he couldn’t recall a single entity that had the power to copy or steal powers and abilities.
He raised his left hand and touched underneath his red eye, and suddenly, his lips quirked up as an amusing thought occurred to him. “Maybe my father was an Uchiha,” he muttered, then snorted a second later and shook his head. Jokes wouldn’t help him here.
He frowned, and he pondered. Maybe he should speak to Clarissa again. She at least seemed to have an idea on what kind of blood might be running through his veins.
Then again, she was also the one who directed him to the book on demonology, so maybe not.
“There you are.”
A voice came to him, familiar and enchanting. It brought a smile to his face and pushed his current quandary to the back of his mind. Even the tension in his shoulders began bleeding out of his posture.
He moved his head off the headboard of the couch, no longer looking at the ceiling, but instead at the vision of loveliness, of a halo framing unblemished porcelain skin, of a pert nose, of sparkling emerald eyes, and a dazzling smile. Actually, she was kind of pouting at the moment, but that hardly bothered him beyond wondering what was getting her down. Such was the power of love, he supposed.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you would be in that training room again, but no one was there when I arrived.”
“Sorry. I would have told you that I’d be in the library, but it was sort of a spur of the moment thing.”
Which he guessed was true, in a roundabout sort of way. It was his spur of the moment decision to speak with Clarissa about her words on how he wasn’t fully human that led to her taking him to this library and giving him the book on demonology.
“It’s fine,” she said, smiling as she walked up to him, a very slight sway to her hips. When she reached the steps, she lifted her left leg and set her knee on the couch. Then she lifted her right leg and that knee was also set on the couch, but on the opposite side of Christian. The young woman slowly crawled up until she was straddling his hips, and then she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips.
Christian took the time to enjoy the kiss. Chaste as it was, it still lingered on his lips for several long seconds. When they broke again, Lilith’s arms slowly went to his neck and her forehead pressed against his.
“How was your lesson this morning?”
“It wasn’t something I can say I enjoyed,” she mumbled, the pout returning. “I had this really strict woman, Heather Locklear. She was teaching me how to use a gun.”
Christian felt his mind stop for a second, then restart with a sudden blink. “She taught you how to use a gun?”
“Well, not really taught. She showed me some stuff, like the different parts of a gun, how to load and unload a clip of ammo. Where the safety switch is. Oh, and she taught me how to hold a gun. That part was interesting at least.” Lilith smiled for a moment, then shifted, her face going somewhat neutral, her eyes revealing that she was thinking. “Guns are heavier than I expected them to be. Even the small handguns.”
“That’s because guns are made of metal,” Christian pointed out. “Metal tends to be heavy. You also have to take the bullets into account. A single cartridge of ammo adds a couple dozen grams to it, give or take. That might not seem like much, but because of the material, well, they feel heavier than if you were to get the same weight from a bag of flower or sugar. It has to do with gravity’s effect on metal because it’s such a dense material, or so I was taught.”
“I hadn’t realized you knew so much about guns,” Lilith said after a moment.
Christian raised an eyebrow. “I do have two guns, you know? And I use them pretty often.”
Lilith’s cheeks turned red. It was just on two spots, giving her a kind of rosy appearance. Christian thought it made her look adorable.
“I know. I just meant, well, I know you have those handguns of yours, and I know you’re a really good shot. I’ve seen you shoot. What I meant was that I didn’t know you were knowledgeable about guns in general.”
“It’s foolish to give someone a gun, teach them how to properly shoot and not blow their own foot off, and not teach them the basics about guns in general. Every Executioner must undergo gun safety classes, where we study the different types of guns, how they work, the mechanics behind them, and why one is more preferable in one situation as opposed to another. That sort of thing. Even if, like me, an Executioner only ends up using one type of fire arm, by learning about all the other ones, we have working knowledge that could help us in the field. Some of the creatures that I’ve fought against have wielded firearms, hoping it would give them an advantage.”
“Did it?” asked a curious Lilith.
Christian shook his head. “No. At least, not when I was dealing with them. Anyway, why are they teaching you how to use a gun?”
“So that I can protect myself, I guess. You know, in case you get incapacitated or something.”
Christian frowned. That line of reasoning was sound―and very possible―but somehow, he felt Lilith was hiding something from him.
“Lilith? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Of course not,” Lilith was quick to say, maybe even a little too quick. “Why would you think that I’m hiding something?” Christian continued to frown at her, causing Lilith to bring out her secret weapon.
Her eyes grew large and... teary. He would have said that her large eyes reminded him of a kicked puppy, but there was no way someone as drop dead gorgeous as Lilith could look anything like a dog, or any other kind of animal. Regardless, this fact did not stop the expression from being any less powerful.
As the old saying went, it worked like a charm.
“Don’t you trust me?”
Christian grimaced and tried looking away. It was difficult to concentrate on anything when she was looking at him like that, and it made his heart clench, which was just an unpleasant experience all around.
“I do trust you,” he relented. “I guess I was just expecting something more profound.”
“More profound?” Lilith seemed to find his words amusing, if the quirk to her lips was any indication. He didn’t see what was so amusing, but he didn’t have any intentions of inquiring about it either. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Christian shrugged his shoulders. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. I guess I just thought there would be a deeper reason. I’m not saying self-defense isn’t a good reason,” he added. He didn’t want her to think that he found her reasons flimsy. It was a good one. “Self-defense is really one of the only justifiable excuses someone can have for wielding a gun, but I had assumed your reason for wanting to learn how to use guns might have been symbolic or something. To be honest, I’m kind of surprised that I never taught you to use a gun myself.”
Lilith looked started. Her eyes went somewhat wide, and her lips parted in surprise. “You would do that?” she breathed, sounding shocked for some reason. Though just why she would be surprised by this, Christian didn’t know. “Teach me how to use a gun, I mean? You would teach me?”
“Yeah, sure.” Christian wo
ndered why she looked so happy to hear him say that. It wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? Well, so long as she was happy he supposed it didn’t matter. “Though I can only really teach you how to use handguns. I know the basics about every type of gun, but I only really know how to use handguns.”
“That’s fine.” Lilith beamed at him. “I don’t mind. Handguns are just fine. Heather said I wouldn’t be good at shooting any of the other guns.” She pouted again, her cheeks puffing up like a squirrel with an acorn in its mouth. “Something about the recoil or whatever she called it being too much for me.”
“That makes sense.” Christian nodded to himself, until he saw Lilith frowning at him. Then he endeavored to explain himself. “Handguns are generally the easiest to use because they don’t have much recoil, meaning they don’t kick as hard. Did your instructor have you fire a gun?”
“No.” Lilith shook her head. “She just showed me what kinds of guns there were, and the had me hold them and stuff.”
“I see. In that case, I’ll show you what she meant by recoil tomorrow when I start teaching you.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Would you like to start later than that?”
“Ah! No, no.” Lilith raised her hands and waved them in front of her face. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wanted to start later or anything. I just thought we’d be starting sometime today.”
“We could,” Christian acknowledged before the hands lightly resting on her hips tightened their hold on her, digging lightly into her lovely porcelain skin, eliciting a soft gasp. Christian smiled. “But I had been hoping we could spend some time together doing something other than learning how to shoot guns.”
Lilith, upon hearing his words and the invitation in them, gave him a smile of her own.
“I would like that,” she said.
***
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tristin asked, for the one hundredth time—or at least, it seemed that way to Samantha. “I mean, I’m as up for an on-sight investigation as much as the next guy, but that’s only when I’m not the one going.”
“Do you ever stop complaining?”
Samantha scowled. She was beginning to regret having him tag along with her. She would have been better off asking Sif and Leon come with. Yeah, that would have been a great idea, except neither of them had Tristin’s intelligence and deductive abilities.
Most people thought that the pretty boy’s only talents were hacking and sexing up women―which Samantha had discovered when she walked in on him seducing one of the few female Assassins that she managed to escape Los Angeles with (She had wanted to strangle him when she saw him and that girl mid-coitus) ―but Tristin had more talents than just those two. The man was an analyst genius. He was a modern-day Sherlock Holmes with an IQ and the eccentricities to match.
She needed those abilities. She needed that talent.
It was really the only she hadn’t killed him already.
Though she could do without the eccentricities.
“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” she continued. “But this might be the break we’re looking for.”
They were walking down the streets of Las Vegas, a place Samantha never thought she would have been caught dead in. It was too bad circumstances had forced her to the place people called Sin City.
Evening had come and gone some time ago. The sky, no longer painted in color, was a dark blue nearing black. Much like Los Angeles, it was nearly impossible to see the stars that had come out. All of the lights from the city were nearly overpowering, perhaps even more so than what could be found in Los Angeles. Neon lights cast a brilliant luminescence of obnoxious colors that offended Samantha’s senses and forced her eyes to squint. She never did like the bright lights of the big city, especially when they were this glaring and made it feel like her retina were being burned.
Despite how late it was, the city was still alive with lights and people and all kinds of ruckus. The neon signs pointing to one thing or another, shops or casinos or what have you, radiated down on them with the incandescence of a flash bang. People walked out of large buildings, most looking depressed, but a rare few holding a wad full of cash as they skipped along, a brilliant smile lighting their faces. Some of those lucky gamblers had a woman on their arm, and some even had two. Cars drove down the streets, moving lights that flickered across the roadways like fireflies.
Because of how conspicuous they both were―they were rather well-known in certain circles—she and Tristin were in disguise. She was wearing clothes that, had someone suggested she wear them months ago, she would have seriously considered shooting them in the face, sin be damned. Wrapped around her thighs were a pair of really short jeans. Really, really short jeans. They rode all the way up her hips, settling just a few centimeters short of her butt. If she were to bend over, Samantha was sure her glutes would be hanging out of them.
How she let Tristin talk her into these jeans was beyond her.
She also had a sleeveless white shirt on. It, too, wrapped around her body, much like the shorts. Samantha was only glad that she did not have breasts as large as Sif’s, or she would have been unthinkably uncomfortable. Her raven hair was also done up in twin pig-tails, which made her look like some kind of California valley girl.
Samantha had never been more embarrassed in her life.
And she was going to kill Tristin for convincing her to humiliate herself like this.
She looked over at Tristin and scowled. Unlike her, he was dressed stylishly. Dark blue jeans with a number of strategically placed rips. A black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up and the first three buttons undone to show off his chest. A pair of slick black shoes clicked against the ground, and expensive looking sunglasses settled neatly on his face.
Samantha had no clue where he had gotten those sunglasses. She certainly hadn’t given them to him.
“Well, yeah, that’s why I said I have no problem with us going out to do some scouting,” Tristin said. “I just don’t see why I have to be the one to do it.”
“Because you’re the best intelligence analyst we have,” Samantha said. “And there was absolutely no way I was going to leave you unsupervised at the base. The last thing I need is for you draining all of my Warriors and Assassins of their stamina.” Sif and Leon were the only ones who could keep Tristin in line aside from her, and both of them were already out following another lead they had gained.
“I would have only drained the women.” Tristin pouted at her, causing Samantha to glare harder. Times like these made her wish she had the ability to shoot laser beams from her eyes. “Whoa, now. Ease up on the death glare, boss lady. I’m only kidding. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m very selective with the partners I sleep with. I won’t screw just anybody.”
“You are so lucky that I can’t afford to kill you,” she said, gripping the case that contained Zaphkiel tightly enough that the handle began to creak.
“Because you need me, right?” Tristin grinned.
Samantha clenched her teeth. If she didn’t have need of his talents, she would’ve ripped that cocky, arrogant smirk right off his face.
“That’s right. I’m going to need you, not just for your hacking skills, but for your analytical abilities and deductive reasoning as well.”
“Right! So, what am I doing again?”
“Weren’t you listening to me the first time I explained this?”
“Mmm...” Tristin looked up at the sky, thoughtful, then glanced back down. He winked at a pair of women as they passed, causing them to break out into feminine giggles. Samantha scowled, then pinched his arm, hard. “Yeowch!” He rubbed the large red welt she had given him, pouting. “What was that for?”
“For being a pig.”
“Are you just jealous.” Samantha’s glare turned murderous, causing Tristin to shriek like a little girl. “Eek! I mean, ah, ahaha! Of course, you’re not jealous! Why would I think something like that? Hahahaha!”
/> Samantha sighed and rubbed at her forehead. She was beginning to understand why this man pissed Christian off so much. She could practically feel herself aging just walking next to him.
“Pay attention, because I’m only going to say this once more. We’re going to be infiltrating the Las Vegas News station. There were rumors a while ago―rumors that you found out about, I might add—that something happened here about a few weeks ago. The news station said that an oil truck crashed into a building and caused a massive explosion, but there was a discrepancy with the damage reports. We’re going to find out the truth.”
“Which is why you need me, right?” asked Tristin.
“Yes, with your abilities to hack into any network, it should be a cakewalk for you to work your way inside this one. Unfortunately, because we no longer have the technology that we did under the Catholic Church’s backing, we don’t have the ability to hack a system remotely anymore. At least, not with the guarantee of our own network remaining undetected.”
The hidden base in Boulder City was the only one they had left. If that fell, then the Executioners would be taken out. It was better to remain safe and hack into a network, even an unsecured one like this, on sight instead of trying to do so remotely.
“After that, I’m going to need you to analyze all the information you gathered to find out everything you can about that incident, and whether or not one of the Executioners who survived might have been involved.”
“Yeah. Okay. I see why you would need me here. Alright!” Tristin pounded the fist of his left hand into the palm of his right. “Let’s do this!”
“Don’t get too excited now,” Samantha muttered, rolling her eyes.
The Las Vegas News Station was a large building, one of the few non-hotel buildings that stood over thirteen stories in height. Made of brick, steel, and large, gleaming windows, there was nothing overtly unique about the structure, other than it being larger than a clear majority of the architecture around it. Samantha and Tristin slowed their walk as they came up to the front. It wasn’t guarded, but they didn’t enter right away either.
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