Above her head there was a whirring hum as yellow light flickered from a naked bulb that dangled on a single ceiling wire. It was swinging mindlessly back and forth from the quick snap of Edens hand pulling on the trip wire. Menacing shadows were cast everywhere from the movement of that weak light, but it showed the space in full relief. A death box. A dirty concrete room with questionable stains in the floor that her beast wanted desperately to roll over and carry with her. Blood. It was obviously a place where the reaper had visited, recently. Somehow though that suited her.

She shifted ever so slightly where she stood and the wooden stairs creaked like they might give way. Turning to peer over her shoulder she saw Whisper watching her expectantly. Her own expression gave nothing away, but she nodded her head once and watched as the fae squeeled and ran up the few steps and out to the top where the real estate agent was waiting to sign the contracts and get her massive pay off. Left alone in the quiet dank of the underground room she sighed, a soft ghostly sound in the stillness. Slowly she moved down the stairs, and to watch her move was to know there here was a creature designed for destruction. Each step moved muscles that were well defined and lither, her stride a thing of confidence and bearing. There was little feminine in the way she moved, more the stalk of a mountain cat.

Her thigh high brown leather boots touched the cement floor without a sound, the flat soles easy to move in, though she would have maneuvered just as smoothly if she were wearing six inch heels. In the center of the room she crouched down, elbow balanced on one knee as she reached out her opposite hand to brush fingertips across the floor where that darkened stain had left its mark. As she touched the blood stain she drew in a breath and her beast let out a mournful howl. Lashes fluttered as her eyes closed and she tried to block out the memories that wanted to come streaming to the surface. Of a place like this, somewhere that was between the real world and something far more sinister. A world where you were just a number. Where your screams meant nothing to anyone.

Inside she felt that black wolf push against her skin, like having fur rubbed against her insides and with a hiss of breath her lips parted. For a split second fangs glinted in the swinging yellow light. Perfect canines that rarely showed, but the pain of those memories made her careless. Straightening to stand she turned and viewed the room a final time. It really was perfect for her purposes. Moving back towards the stairs she paused only long enough to reach up and once again give a tug to the wire that circuited the hanging bulb. Darkness engulfed the basement room, but she was a part of that darkness and it didn't phase her.

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Rome was a city she knew far too well. In her previous life she had walked its streets with her lover and learned the secret alleyways and shadowed edifices that housed the countries greatest war machines. That was so long ago now that it served only to haunt her. Ghosts of her past whispered to her around every corner and in the face of everyone she met. But it didn't matter that she was haunted by the place, it wasn't her choice to be there. Her entire existence was made up of "have-to's". It had been so long since she had chosen anything for herself that she wasn't sure she remembered how.

Project Ressurection had sent her on a final mission. To Rome. To die.

There had never been any intention from her governmental captors for her to survive, but they still didn't realize just how hard she was to kill. All their hard work had served to make her one of the finest honed killing machines that was in existence. When the UN Delegates Home went up in an explosion it had been timed to catch her inside. Timed to take her out. And of course she did her very best to play to that, making her escape as seemless and quiet as possible. As she watched the place burn she kept one hand cupped over her upper arm where the silver tracked Hazardouse symbol was branded into her flesh. The mark would be with her for as long as she walked the Earth. A reminder of the disease that she carried, and the horrors she had seen. After nearly thirty years she was finally free.

Freedom was so foreign at first that she stayed as cloistered away as possible. Desperate to be out of the line of sight of any vampire of lycanthrope who might try to claim her. To be owned again would kill her. Her soul would be torn to pieces at the loss of this precisou gift of freedom. She stayed in Rome for two years without stepping out of the shadows, but then she met Whisper and things began to change.

It wasn't a love affair, and it certainly wasn't anything to write novels about. She became Edens blood doll and through that connection began to bring her into the world of the living once again. There were tales she knew about the Cult of the Vatican, and the Mafia family which was wreaking havoc on the city. Either no doubt would have room for a warrior, who didn't love a trained killer at their back? But she had no interest in allying with such people. When word reached her that a new vampire in the city was claiming his right as Primogen it peeked her interest. How long had it been since Rome had been home to a Primogen? Since it's vampires had something to bring them together to fight for? And would this princeling even be worth serving? All questions that seemed worth answering.

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Beneath her there was nothing but ten stories of empty space, then her feet hit rooftop again and she kept running. The sprint she kept up would have been a deathtoll for anything human, but she wasn't even breaking a sweat. On the street below the car moved slow enough through traffic that she was able to keep up even with the UHC 270 Shotgun strapped to her back. It's strap snugged over her shoulder perfectly, offering no friction against the bare skin it touched. Whisper had sewn the clothes to prfection. Functional for weapons and free range of movement. Legs and arms pumped and then again she was launching into the air, she couldn't fly, that was not a power she possessed, but watching her you could almost believe it was possible.

Below her the car was stopping and she slowed to a halt as well. Moving to the edge of the rooftop she knelt down, brown leather kneepads kept the gravelly roof from irritating her. With a quick, profficient movement she swung the shotgun from its strap, bringing it around to site down the barrel and towards the street below. Word of the assassination attempt had come just the day before. A confirmed suspicion she had been having. The Cult never could keep from messing in vampire politics. She saw the door of the car open and the primogen stepped out.

From her vantage point she could see nothing but the darkness of the top of his head, but from the feel of power on the air she knew her informants were correct. This was the man the Cult would be trying to kill. After all, a Primogen meant power. It meant power taken away from the cult itself. Eyes swept the street as the thoughts crowded her head and her nostrils filled with the sudden scent of sulfur. Flaring her nostrils she felt that beast within press against the cage of her body and she tried to quiet its prescence. Then there was a movement down in the shadows and she saw the gleam of blades. The assassin was in an alcove near where the prospective primogen was heading.

Lips curled into a soft smile as she bent low over her gun and whispered something to herself. She put two pounds of pressure on a trigger that only needed four pounds. Someone was getting out of the car behind the Primogen, a woman with multi-colored dreadlocks. A smell of wolf flooded her senses and she had to fight back the urge to stand. That internal struggle took only a second but in that time the assassin made his move, leaping from the shadows and towards the Primogen with his blades poised to strike. It was so sudden that there would have been no time to react if you weren't expecting it. Luckily, she was always ready.

The hammer struck and a sound like a soft exhale of breath accompanied the shot, silencer doing its job perfectly as Eden pumped six fast rounds into the assassin. From a distance she watched his body jerk like a marionette as the bullets found their mark. Shot gun shells fell around her feet with small tinny sounds. With that many shots she took out a hole the size of a basketball over his heart, and the last few shots left the figure headless when he dropped to the ground.

Eden was already slinging the gun back around to rest against her back as her gloved fingers quickly swept up the shotgun shells to tuck them into the pocket of the smooth black denim jeans that hugged her long legs. She had meant simply to take off, but her beast was intrigued by the woman below and what vampire didn't want to see the face of this new Prince of the city. Standing to her full 6'1" she looked down at the scene below where everyone seemed to be stirred to a frenzy except the Primogen and his wolf. Looking down at them she let their eyes catch sight of her. She watched them as they watched her and let herself open shields to test the both of them, wolf and vampire, would either of them be worth this act of hers? Would they be worth protecting? Time would tell.

To see her turn, or retreat, would be impossible. In the darkness she was at home. It engulfed her like a lovers embrace and she was simply gone. Back to the Gladiator Forum where Whisper would be waiting to hear the tale of what had happened. Back to a night of getting ready for the Forums opening. Back to pretending that she was something she could never be......normal.