A new lead. (Foal and whomever else, simply PM me)

Midnight. They called it the witching hour. According to legends and lore it was the time when evil roamed the night. Perhaps most of the stories were simply that – tales told to make children fall asleep. But not all of them. This night in particular, there was indeed a great evil stirring. But what was it? There had been tales of a man, whispers of a monster that roamed the night. Stories and legends told by killers and thieves, among butchers and madman. Stories of a ghost, a killer, a specter, a madman. A creature who could not be stopped by locks or doors. Tales of a killer with no equal, whispers of a madman who couldn't be shot or stabbed or strangled. But this killer was always free to do so to others.
Some thought he was a metahuman, for surely no ordinary man could possibly be the cause of such tales? But he had yet to be officially charged with being unregistered, as no one knew for sure if he even existed. Several killers and madmen formed gangs, gaining power by claiming to be the monster in the shadows. None of them lasted long, as it seemed anyone affiliated with this particular myth vanished without a trace. The result of a vengeful spirit? A jealous madman? Or something far more sinister? Very few could say for certain, but they didn't exist or were made not to know.

Now on this night, at this unholy hour, a lone armored van tore though the streets as fast as it could without tipping over or crashing. Of the men within, perhaps they knew more than their stony eyes and taunt lips would ever reveal, as they raced to an unknown destination with no light or sound to announce their movement. Later on, authorities would note the oddity in this six man SWAT team being dispatched, as no one had called them in. Furthermore, none of their gear was reported as removed from the armory, and their vehicle was never officially removed from the lot. But someone gave the order. Someone sent this team of nonexistent individuals equipped with gear that was never removed in a vehicle that was never driven off the lot to hunt a madman who didn't exist.

The driver slammed on his breaks and brought the heavy armored truck to a shuddering halt, and the six man team cocked their weapons and wordlessly exited the back. The leader nodded at the rest of the team as he pressed his shoulder against the wall to the left of the door and his team split up into three groups of two, one man stacking up with him at the main entrance while one pair silently double timed it around the left side of the old two story building and the other pair crept around the right side. The leader looked at his watch. 20 seconds had gone by. More than enough time for the other two teams to find an entrance and be monitoring the time. He nodded to his companion, who kicked in the door. Simultaneously, the back door was kicked in and a window on the second story shattered. All six men were in.

The building was dark, and looked to have been a home before it was condemned. The first team passed through the entryway to a chorus of muttered “clear”s as each man checked the first room he came across. The team leader and his companion moved further into the building, cautiously picking their way through the rubble. Something caught the leader's eye: What looked to be a bedroom, with the mattress carved apart. Stuffing was strewn about the room, and it appeared that the door had been ripped from it's hinges. But aside from a few scraps of wood that could have been what was left of it, there was no sign of the door. The man pushed these thoughts from his mind as a wail echoed through the house. For a fraction of a second, his blood ran cold as he dropped to one knee and swept the barrel of his MP5 throughout the room, searching for the source of the sound. Finding nothing, he listened to his earpiece for a moment. His men were well trained – they wouldn't make a sound that could betray their position unless they confirmed either of their targets.

He nodded to his companion, and the two men stacked up at the next door. The leader opened the handle from the side of the door while his companion stepped forward into the room. And stopped with an abrupt grunt. The man remained standing, but seemed to be slumped forward as in leaning into something. He quickly stepped back and scanned the area. Nothing happened after several seconds, so he carefully prodded the man. He noticed the rapidly growing pool of blood as the mad swung inwards as if on a hinge. A moment's inspection told him all he needed to know – the man WAS on a hinge.

Someone had attached a hinge from a door to two pieces of roughly hacked wood and then attached one end to the wall on the other side of the door and pressed the two boards together with a series of intertwined bed springs between them. Add the eight inch railway spikes driven through the spring-loaded board and now into his team member's chest and the broken pieces of twine hanging from the door handle and a clasp on the base of the board fixed to the wall and the making of the trap was clear. But something was wrong. Something was bothering the team leader, some little detail he had overlooked. He swore aloud when he realized it: doors have three hinges.

He reached for his radio as he heard a gunshot upstairs. That had also been bugging him: Why hadn't the rest of his team checked in when their traps went off? He realized as he looked at the slightly smoking ruin of his radio that whoever had fired their weapon just did. He realized that the sounds of a man begging for his life had contained after the wail, and so he set off, carefully picking his way through the derelict as he tried to pinpoint it.

Meanwhile, upstairs a lone SWAT officer looked down the smoking barrel of his pistol at the body of his companion, ruined radio in his other hand. Too late, they had noticed the tiny snap of a tripwire. His companion had tried to get out of the way and as a result was only maimed instead of killed outright. Their radios had been fried, so the officer had executed his comrade to keep their target from capturing him alive and to warn the rest of the team. He tried to place where the wail had come from, but it had since devolved into moaning, begging, and crying that echoed throughout the halls and twisted around the corridors, making it very difficult to place. But it definitely seemed to be coming from downstairs.

The first thing he saw at the bottom of the staircase were the corpses of two more of his teammates, one impaled by another trap and the other twitching in a pool of his own blood, his throat slit. The next thing he noticed was that his body felt sluggish, and a warmth slowly filled his vest. He looked down in confusion to see the handle of a combat knife sticking out of his heart. As he leaned into the wall and wordlessly slid to the ground, the last thing he saw was a pair of glittering hazel eyes over an impossibly wide grin.

The team leader rounded another corner, his patience wearing thin as he checked both ways before continuing in the direction of the begging and crying. He was definitely getting closer. He kicked in the final door, but his triumph turned to ashes in his mouth. A tape recorder sat on a table before a corpse tied to a chair. It looked like he had been tortured to death. The leader swore again. The agent was already dead, and by the looks of it he had been so for quite a while. Then it dawned on him: All of this was too perfectly timed to be the result of the knowledge gained from this one agent. This hunter knew their tactics, knew their entry points. This was someone who knew his organization. And there was only one person who that could possibly be.

The SWAT leader whirled around to look down the hall at the shadowy outline of just that person. Before he had time to react, left shoulder flared in agony as a combat knife suddenly appeared buried to the hilt, pinning him to the wall. He knew who this was, and so he knew bullets wouldn't help him. He also knew the only reason he was alive – he was to take the place of the corpse in the chair. That couldn't happen. But before he could raise his pistol to his head, another combat knife appeared in his wrist, pinning his hand to the wall. He recognized that knife. He had an identical one in a sheath on his left shoulder.

Fine. If he couldn't kill himself, perhaps he could force the madman to kill him. There had already been one gunshot, and that would have alerted someone. The madman needed silence as much as his own team. It was currently his only chance – to goad his attacker on. He fought through the pain in his wrist and fired his pistol again and again, letting out half a dozen rounds before his weapon stopped firing. No, his finger stopped pulling the trigger. He looked down at the knife pinning his severed stump to the wall, at the arm connected to it. Up into the glittering eyes of the madman they belonged to. His world went black as he prayed that his blood loss would kill him before his attacker could stabilize him.

Zack's grin widened as he pulled the SWAT officer's belt from his waist and used it as a tourniquet, tightly wrapping and tying up the stump that was his wrist in order to halt the arterial spray. He reached up and wrenched his combat knife from his would be hunter's shoulder and pulled the man over his own in a fireman's carry. He had to hurry: someone would have heard the gunshots. He walked back outside with the man, swapping his knife for his Glock. He set the man down against the side of the truck as he pulled the corpse of the driver from its seat, the man slamming into the concrete with a dull crack as what little blood was left in his slit throat splattered across the ground. Zack was about to throw the team leader over into the passenger seat when he froze: Someone else was here. He slowly stood and awaited their first move. He preferred to react when in his enemy's sight.

Jay had been sleeping on top of the building the strange SWAT team had gone into. She usually slept on what ever rooftop or tree cought her interest at night since she didnt actually have a house to sleep in. She had been sleeping fairly well except for a few odd noises that barely wormed into her dreams, until she heard the sound of repeated gunshots and sat straight up and looked around worried that some one had found her up there. But she saw no one.
She still felt like she wouldnt be able to just sleep there still and got up and went to the edge of the roof, looking over the area and seeing a strange van out front.
"That...wasnt here when I landed." She thought out loud. She thought about it then jumped off the roof and glided down to go investigate the strange vehicle. She landed on the roof of the van and found it to be empty. But she did wonder why a SWAT vehicle was out here this late. She heard some one coming and quickly layed flat on top of the van and watched to see what was going on. She saw a man dragging out several bodies of guys in SWAT uniforms.
*well so much for what ever they came here for.* she thought to herself. She watched silently as the guy not in uniform loaded up the dead SWAT team. He wasloading the last one when he suddenly froze.
*shoot.*Jay thought, *guess he heard me some how...*
She sat up and crouched on the roof of the van in case she had to leap off and run or fly in a hurry, she also left her wings half spread for the same reason.
"So. You always throw late night house parties?" She joked, hoping she hadn't gotten into some kind of mess. She nodded to the SWAT member he had been loading in the front before figuring out she had been there,"your guests look pretty out of it. Guess your the designated driver huh?" She wasn't stupid, she knew these guys were either dead or beaten to a pulp in one way or another, but she also knew this was the only guy not hurt not in uniform and probably the one who did it. Added up to, dont piss this guy off!

Zack looked up at Jay, his eyes widening slightly at the sight before his grin widened at the joke. He tilted his head to one side and ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair to push it back against his skull. In doing so he inevitably gave her the full effect of his manic grin that stretched ear to ear, set below hazel eyes that were ablaze with the tainted light of madness.

"I don't always throw late parties, and I don't always throw house parties..." His voice cut through the night like a razor blade, shrill and manic like a man about to burst into laughter. "But when I do, they're to die for!" The laughter tinging his voice took over for a long moment as he seemed to lose himself to his own joke. The hollow and joyless sound echoed throughout the night as it forced him to lean over and rest a hand on the van, his left hand still on the back of his head with the fingers gripping his hair in a white knuckled vice.

Regaining his composure, Zack looked back up at Jay, barely moving his head enough to raise his gaze to meet hers as he otherwise remained completely still. Who is this girl? He thought to himself, mind racing as he pondered what to do. She had seen him dragging a police officer out of the building, she had seen him throw the dead driver from the car. Yet she hadn't attacked. Why was that? Was she one of them, sent to make sure the mission went as planned? No, she wouldn't have gotten this close. Only curiosity would bring someone this close to such a gruesome scene, and so she was likely a bystander - one of apparently many such mutated humans living in the world nowadays. Zack's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Jay, still lost in thought. He preferred it when things were easier - when everyone in a uniform and everyone with powers was an enemy, an obstacle between him and escape. At least then he hadn't had to constantly second guess himself.

"So tell me, little birdie..." He began, the hysteria in his voice giving it a dark tone - though whether that was by design or merely a side effect of his apparent madness was anyone's guess. "What brings you to my party? Are you a guest? Or are you here to ruin the fun? Better think quick, I'm sure you won't be the only curious cat snooping around. Who knows when the real party crashers will arrive?" Whether he was deliberately being cryptic because it amused him or because he had no choice was uncertain, but as he pushed back from the van in order to take a few steps backward into the street he kept his arms by his sides. While his Glock was still in his right hand, his pose was nowhere near as threatening as his overall appearance.

Jay raised an eyebrow at his joke in response to hers and half smiled, she was either dealing with some one who was able to joke easily and that was good, or a complete nut case and that was probably bad. And when he burst out into complete lunatic like laugh that sent a chill down her spine Jay figured it was option two. "Uh huh..." Now she was sure she had landed on a hornets nest.

She sat there unmoving as he studied her, her feathers bristled a bit in annoyance when he called her 'Birdie' though, "Hey! Lets get something clear, name's not Birdie. Lets start there. As for whether I'm a party guest or a crasher, well..." she pretended to search her pockets for a moment and then shrugged, "well it looks like I don't have an invite, so it seems I very well may be a crasher." she shrugged, "but it looks like the fun was already ruined before I got here. so, ya know." Jay watched then as he took a few steps away from the van and spread her wings a bit further just to be sure that she was ready to move. She did not want to be hit by any bullets in that gun he was holding. "I don't suppose we could just be friends and not try to play pin the bullet on the me?" she joked, hoping that she could get away from this with out a bunch of bullet holes in her. Man curiosity sucked.

"Not Birdie? And yet a name that fits you so..." He chuckled darkly as he watched her. "But if you're here to crash the party it would seem you're a little late. Of course these men thought they were crashing a party..." Maddened laughter bubbled up from his throat for a moment before he was able to continue. "But they arrived late as well... I made sure of that. But if anything, I like to make sure there's plenty of fun to be had. So I made sure they had their fill." His grin widened, teeth shining in the moonlight as his eyes seemed to light up with glee. But something seemed to bother him. While his grin never left his face, a dark look flashed through his eyes.

"Friends, eh?" His mind reeled. He had never had any friends before. No... That wasn't true. He had had friends once. But they were dead. No. That couldn't be true. He carried them with him wherever he went. They helped him kill and helped him fight. They kept him alive. But they didn't breathe, they only spoke when they killed. He'd never had a friend that didn't kill. He'd never had a friend he hadn't had to kill. No. That wasn't true. He still carried his friends with him. They weren't dead. He couldn't have killed them if they weren't dead. His eye twitched. "Monsters don't have friends, Birdie." His voice was dark now, the tinge of hysteria replaced by sorrow as he forced back the screams that plagued his mind. He stared at the ground for a long moment in silence, his grin twitching.

"Jay," she stated, as she decided she could not stand the name birdie anymore. It annoyed her for whatever reason and she decided she would give him a real name to use instead, "my name is Jay." She listened to his insane rant for a moment before he seemed to acknowledge her offer of her being his friend and her attention perked up. Maybe this night would end with al her insides inside, and no bullets in there. She watched as he seemed to be thinking it over and wondered whatwas going on in his head. She wondered if she got off the vans roof if it would help the answer be a possitive one and slowly moved to slide down, but right then it seemed he had made his choice and told her something about how monsters didnt have friends. She tilted her head,"if you think just being a bit nutty makes you a monster then you should see me when I get my hands on a fair deal of pixie sticks." She jumped down from the van and looked over at the man who he had been loading into the vehicle when he had figured out she was there,"so, what did they do to tick you off so bad if I dare asking?" She pointed at the man curiously, wondering if he was still alive. She was still ready to fly off if needed but figured if she calmed this guy down a bit it might be better then just rushing at him with brute force. Seeing how these guys looked like thry tried that and failed.

Zack tilted his head to one side once more as he eyed Jay. He found it extrememely odd that she seemed to have no issue whatsoever with the violent scene. He had yet to meet anyone who walked a middle ground like that - everyone else either hated such vilence or loved it. Or both. He let out a chuckle. "Nutty's one way to put it, JAY." He emphasized his use of her name. "But nutty isn't all I am." He chuckled again, though more weakly this time. Oh yeah. He had amost forgotten about his most recent victim. "You want to know who they are? What they wanted? Why most of them are dead? Why this one will die later?" His eyes narrowed as he leaned towards her. "That..." He began, his voice dark, "is a very deep and dangerous rabbit hole." Who was this girl, and why was she being nice to him? Should he shoot her and be done with it? His mind wandered as he watched her. Why did she want to be his friend? "There are things you don't know about, Jay. Things in the shadows. Things much worse than little ol' me. Are you really sure you want to know?"

Jay tilted her head, did she want to know... probably not... but if he had a good reason to kill these SWAT guys she should probably know. If not she should get these guys out of here somehow and help this one still living. The big thing was how? She walked over to the one who was leaned against the cab of the van, "you sure he's still alive? He smells pretty dead." Jay crinkled her nose against the blood smell and then looked back at the lunatic, "so what is the story then? I'm sure I can deal with another scary story." She then went back to looking at the SWAT member... maybe while he got lost in his story she could sneak him off to a safe place?

The madman's eyes narrowed as he watched Jay closely. "You want to hear a scary story, eh girlie? Because this one's a doozy. It'a all about "Them." They are the monsters, girlie. "They" are the worst monsters of them all - the kind that carves up it's own kind, it's own children, in order to mold them into weapons. "They" are those who you precious citizens of this country trust with your lives, with your children, with your safety. "They," girlie, are in the last place you expect, hidden behind incompetence and power."

He leaned in, his grin widening and his eyes maniacal.
"Oh but it gets worse," he continued. ""They" have eyes everywhere. Your butcher, your baker, your candlestick maker." He gestured to the SWAT officer on the ground. "Even your friendly neighborhood policeman. "They" are anyone and everyone. Most of "Their" puppets don't even know they have strings to pull, let alone who's pulling them. Not until "They" flip the switch anyways." He laughed, a hollow and joyless sound that echoed through the night.

"And do you know, little Jay bird, who's working to stop them? Oh ho, there are several who would like to see them burn, but they don't know that anything exists behind the mask. There's only one lone madman standing between "Them" and planet wide domination, the slaughtering of millions, the capture and dissection of every non intended metahuman, and the subjugation of all who survive." He leaned even closer. "Now tell me that doesn't scare you. Are you really sure you want to delve into the rabbit hole?"

Jay looked at him with widened eyes and then took a small step back, "your either crazier then I thought, or onto something very big.... but im not sure which..... " Jay looked down at the SWAT officer she had been intending to save and then back at the loon standing infront of her, then back, "so you mean to tell me he's actually the bad guy....." she looked back at the guy in uniform and nodded slowly. Well. If she was gonna get this guy outta here it might as well be now...
"Well buddy. I'll help you load this guy up then." She grabbed the officer by the arm and hauled him up, boy he was heavier then she first thought. She wrapped her arms around his chest and took a few steps toward the van like she was gonna plop the guy in the seat but then paused, spread her wings and ran the other direction suddenly. If she could get inthe air she could get this guy to a hospital and maybe report the crazy guy to an asylum while she was at Iit.

Even though Zack was unable to sprint, he knew he'd be able to catch up with her if he wanted. Almost anyone could keep up with Jay's current awkward gait. But he didn't need to. In the time it took him to raise his arm, his Glock flew to his hand and his aim was perfect. But something kept him from pulling the trigger. Why? This was just some random girl. There was nothing stopping him from shooting her, and every reason to do so: She was actively trying to stop him, actively trying to defend an agent of his creators. But something was stopping him.

He had to react quickly. If he couldn't shoot her, he'd have to do something quickly before she managed to get away. So he pulled. Not with his body but with his will. Focusing on the armor within, he clenched his teeth and yanked hard. The only thing that kept him from attaching to the truck next to him was the equal force from the sewers below, but the man Jay carried had steel plating in his bulletproof vest as well as several other metal odds and ends and was yanked back toward Zack. Whether or not Jay would be as well depended on her grip on the man.

"Helping me load him up, are we birdy?" Zack had lowered his gun, but still held it. He still wasn't sure why he didn't shoot her.

Jay had barely taken to the air like a wounded bird in an attempt to carry off the officer when suddenly it seemedhehad gained a few hundred extra pounds. Jay struggled against the 'weight' flapping wildly, attempting to twist and turn and try to carry him in some other way, but it didnt seem to help any. She was gradually getting tired and started to be pulled down back toward Zack.
Thats when she realized she hadnt gone far at all. In fact she seemed to have gone no distance despite her insistant flapping and running.... how.....? She glared at the mad grinning crazy guy. "I told you- 'pant'- my names NOT Birdy," Jay grumbled, this could be harder then she thought. Time to come up with a plan B.

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