Ruby in the Smoke [1800's RP -- Limited amount of spots. First come, first serve.]

First topic message reminder :

Welcome to 1800’s New Orleans, the pumping heart of jazz, and obscure voodoo magic. Full of spiritual hauntings and tall tales of witch craft. This is the city that keeps moving till all hours of the night, and into the early mornings. It is a city of class, elegance, and a secret undertone of danger lurking around corners, voodoo shops, palm readings, and dark arts magicians.

Five people, called the Protectors, gather in a restaurant to discuss one thing: The Ruby. The Ruby was forged by four great mages over a thousand years ago, all containing a different power. They have passed this Ruby down from generation to generation. There had never been a problem before this, the Ruby had been kept hidden for over a thousand years. There had been tales told, but no one had ever seen it. Until just a few weeks ago, one broke into the sacred temple and stole the Ruby right from its place. Of course, there was a battle and one of the mages was smart, and decided to change the Ruby’s form before the intruder could grab it.

What is this form, you may ask? It is the form of a young seventeen year old girl. Normally wearing a black cape and a jewel encrusted choker with a red ruby droplet hanging off of it. The mage who did this, also altered the mind of a young man to believe the Ruby is his little sister.

But, while this meeting of the five Protectors is taking place, another one is happening just around the corner... A meeting of some of the best Dark Arts magicians are joining together to try and steal the Ruby...

So choose your side, your power [up to 3 powers max], and choose wisely and let the games begin.

Rules:

Don’t be a Mary-Sue please
Don’t pull a Houdini that’s mean
Please respect the other RPers
Yeah you know the rest.
Try to vary your powers and roles...
This is set in the 1800's no belly shirts and tight jeans....

ROLES:

The Ruby: Mercy [me]

The Ruby’s ‘Older Brother’: Danny

Protectors [5]: Allen, Christina Langley [Alexis], Brandon

Dark Arts Magicians [5]: Nergal+Durge [Murdoch], Skye, Capri

The crisp winter wind seemed to whistle a tune of death as Nadya's eager ears listened. She walked across the cobble stone streets, her hood pulled up over her head and her eyes watching her feet. Her hands pulled her cloak tighter around her body, the hood well hiding her face in the shadows. Under her dress was her wand, hidden by the layers of clothing yet easily accessible to familiar hands such as her own.

The faces that past seemed to blur by as she drew closer and closer to her destination, which seemed to be a run down pub filled with drunks and women begging to sell their bodies. It didn't bother her in the slightest, although she assumed it would bother the others. Being surrounded with such filth. Her eyes glanced up once more and darted over the figures in the darkness, the oil lamps from above glowing in unison with the full moon hanging above New Orleans. Nadya loathed this city. The only reason she tolerated it was for the black magic that coursed the streets and, mainly, the Ruby.

A smirk flashed on Nadya's emotionless face as she imagined her. She could feel her presence. Her heart beating, her blood racing, her mind wandering. "All in due time, Nadya." A voice seemed to call from her wand, almost keeping her grounded. She gave a slight nod and returned her gaze to the cobble stones, although her mind still wandered her appearance remained nothing but a black shadow in the darkened night.

The cries of fear, the silenced look of panic, the slight quiver of a bottom lip. Nadya's mind raced on about the Ruby as she entered the pub. She slipped in the door as two drunks made their way out, one screaming about something or other. She made her way to the counter quickly ordering a pint to fit in with the whores standing at the end, one woman's leg right on the counter for a 'preview.' Nadya took the pint and stood at the counter, glancing casually around the pub as she looked for the two who would meet her. Although she attempted to act in no hurry whatsoever, her eyes always found themselves at the door again.

Danny was perched up in his room, enjoying the silence. He wasn't much of a talker, so silence was always welcome. The air outside was dry and windy, though it was quite refreshing in this hot, cramped, tiny home. With barely enough room for Danny to stand up right, any little thing could be seen as a pleasure. Outside his window (with broken glass, and rickety wooden blinds), people scurried across the dirty streets. He was people watching, something that had become Danny's hobby. He found himself judging others on sight, which had become a natural occurrence.

From bellow his room, Danny could hear Mercy call for him. Needing an escort, Mercy wanted to go to the local pub. In honestly, Danny would love if every night could be spent at home in silence. But Mercy liked to move, and experience things, so Danny insisted on escorting her everywhere. After all, she was his little sister, and Danny always had the strongest urge to protect her, no matter what the cause.

Standing up, he grabbed his black cloak (with mud stains at the bottom, and holes throughout) and wrapped it around his shoulders. In silence, Danny walked down the stairs, the only sound was the creaking wood beneath his bare feet. Mercy was waiting for him by the door, or living room. It was much the same in the small home. Standing there for a moment, Danny watched Mercy, inspecting to make sure everything was okay. "Ready?" was all Danny would muster. His voice dry and cracked. He didn't speak often, and his voice wasn't accustom to it.

My eyes sparkle lightly as I throw my cloak over my shoulders, tying the string around my neck gently. Danny comes downstairs and I smile brightly as he asks me if I'm ready to go. I clear my throat a little as he speaks, he wasn't much of talker which made his voice somewhat raspy. My throat always felt parched after listening to his cracked throat.

"All ready." I say, my voice is light, airy, like bubbles dancing across marble [I'unno dont ask what that's like, i just like the imagry...]. I open the door and let him pass.

Nergal watches the door from his seat across the room. He is sitting at a cracked, dirty and run-down table of his own with his three companions; the two cloaked figures are sitting either side of him, and Durge is standing up behind him, keeping an eagle eye on all proceedings in the pub, searching out all potential threats. He probably has a few lined up already. Ah, his loyal bodyguard.
The table he's sitting at is one at the very edge of the room, and he is sitting facing away from the door. If you sit in the corner and look out at the room, people suspect you of listening, but if you sit at the edge facing the wall, people take much less notice of you. Especially when you are in a group.

He senses another figure walk in, and he takes a very quick glance; a cloaked one who seems to treat the place with more than a little disdain. That would be one of the magicians, then; she fits in here like Durge would fit in in a church.
He glances at her again as she goes to the counter and turns to watch the door, waiting for someone; she isn't very subtle. He inclines his head and one of the cloaked figures rises. She hasn't noticed him yet, and he congratulates himself that the fools in the magic circle- both light and dark- have only become aware of him in the past year. They don't know much about him, but they know not to underestimate him. His name is all they know for certain; Nergal. He can't even remember if that's his real name, but it certainly fits, so he supposes it makes no difference.

The cloaked figure that rose from its seat turns and makes its way over to the Dark Magician, Nadya. It doesn't walk so much as glides with a cool, elegant grace that most humans lack. It seamlessly avoids the drunks, the bottles on the floor, the piles of vomit and the sprawled bodies of incapacitated men effortlessly, not even slowing. It reaches Nadya quickly, and takes a quick bow in front of her. No harm in showing respect.
"My Master desires your presence," it says politely in a lilting, musical male voice, "If you would kindly follow me..." he turns around, not waiting for Nadya's answer, and begins to glide back towards the table Nurgal is sitting at.

May I join? As a Dark Arts Magician?

Nadya set the pint down as she felt a figure approach her. She turned to the figure, her hand finding it's way to her wand. As it bowed, she smirked as her eyes followed the path it had come from. It lead to a man facing the wall. Nadya looked back to the figure just to catch him walking towards the man. She followed, watching as he seemed to glide over the intoxicated men on the ground. She stepped over them quickly, pulling her hood down as she approached the man.

Nadya kept herself silent as she approached him, but kept the shallow smile on her face. The voices acted up again, speaking of the man, the pub, the dangers, and those who would be most likely to die of intoxication. She shrugged the scratched voices away, listening to the even breaths of the man facing the wall and the other next to him. Nadya nodded her head in a form of respect before seating herself.

Nadya kept her hands hidden, but kept her posture straight as she looked straight into the man's black eye. She takes it upon herself to speak, although it seems no one else in the bar has taken any notice of them; they're all too drunk. "I see you've requested my presence?" Nadya rose an eyebrow and gave a quick head jerk to the cloaked figure that led her to him.

Sure Capri!

Danny walked out of the house and onto the poorly lit streets. The cobblestone beneath his feet had cool greatly since mid day. He looked around before at Mercy, waiting for her to exit the home. Danny smiled at her, before pointing with an open hand, down the street. It was signaling Mercy to head on, he'll follow.

Name: Carlotta Anacleto
Title: Most call her "Facade" due to her absolutely unreadable expression that she wear all of the time. Practically know one knows her real name.
Gender: Female

Age: Appears that she is in her mid-twenties, but no one actually knows how long she has lived. Once, a man heard her whispering Old Romani to herself. Hence, the rumors flew that she is indeed, old.

Body: Long-limbed, rather curvatious, but hides most of her body beneath her clothes anyway.
Hair: Thick black ringlets that hit her mid-back. Parted off-center and half of if twisted back.

Facial Features: Carlotta has an oval, but angular face. Her jawline and cheek bones are quite sharply formed, and her eyebrows are high and arched. Her unusual large almond-shaped violet eyes are due to a birth defect. They are rather frightening, especially when she's not in the best of moods. If glares could kill, you'd want to be as far from Carlota as possible. Her nose is strong and straight, while her lips are dark red and perpetually pursed. Her skin is very pale, considering the amount of sunlight she rarely receives.

Clothing: A dark gray dress, tightly fitted at arms, bust, and waist, then flowing to the floor accompanied with a black floor-length, hodded cloak.

Personality: Hard-headed, strong-willed. Positively unreadable. Thinks a lot, and is a very good plotter. Vengeful when the time calls for it. Is very unpredictable and hard to read. Doesn't really care for anyone else.

Powers: Very skilled in the Dark Arts, and has been for awhile. Her best and most used power is her Mind Control. That is what she is known for. Driving people to insanity. Or just to their deaths. She can also "materialize" from place to place. Some would call it teleporting. Because of her age, Carlotta has continued to find new powers and become skilled at them.

Past: Doesn't talk about it. Never will.

A dark-cloaked figure could be seen walking to the direction of the pub. Hooded over, you could not see her eyes. But she could see everything. Though citizens were practically flinging themselves out of the way of the menacing, young-figured woman, an old beggar on the streets was not quick enough. Bony, blackened fingers curled around the bottom edge of her cape as she passed him. A sand paper-like plead came from his throat. The woman stopped, and became absolutely still. Growing very silent, the beggar's glassy eyes stared in horror as she slowly turned her head downwards. The bottom half of the woman's face now came into view. And there was suddenly no one on the streets. It had become eerily silent.

Carlotta's dark red lips curled back to reveal grimacing white teeth. And that was all it took. Like someone was slowly turning on an oil lamp, the noise coming from the beggar's mouth went from a low breath to a blood-curdling, guttural screech. His hands went to either side of his head as he tried to rip all that was left of his wiry white hair. His body jerked and turned, throwing itself against the cobblestone sidewalk as he seized. He threw his face against the brick wall, a loud crunching noise sounding.

As Carlotta continued walking on, her grimace was gone, only to be replaced by her signature unreadable facade. Behind her, the thumping and smashing could still be heard. The man's scream carried on. Then all became silent as she heard a final wrenching noise and headed inside the pub.

Nergal nods his head to return the respect shown him by the one known as "Nadya"- it's only polite; just because he's evil doesn't mean he can't have manners- and watches with amusement as she keeps her hands concealed and no doubt close to her wand. If he wanted to kill her right now, though, he wouldn't even need to cast a spell. He could just set Durge on her, and that would be that. He's killed magicians before, after all.

"I did indeed," he says, his voice a little deep around the slight wheezing caused by his age. Ok, so Essence doesn't cover everything.
"I know you, Nadya, and I know of your potential. But I wonder, do you know who it is you are speaking to? So few know me these days; it is of my own doing, but it is a little depressing nonetheless..." he watches her intently for any sign of deceit or treachery. He needs to know if her attitude is right...he doesn't even care that another magician has entered the pub; his companions will keep an eye on her. It's Nadya he wanted to talk to.

My heels click as I giggle lightly, walking out the door and closing it gently with a click behind me. I sigh lightly, walking ahead, grabbing Danny's wrist gently and pulling him along the cobblestone road, my shoes clicking as a few men were walking from the pub and some women waiting on the corner.

I look over at Danny, a smile on my lips, pushing my hair away from my face, "Thank you..." I say quietly. He always insisted on taking me everywhere, I had never really known better. I didn't really picture myself going anywhere without him, I had been doing it all my life.

Nadya allowed herself to relax. She kept her posture and smiled polietly as she heard her grandmother yell at her to do so. "Just because I'm a little younger doesn't mean my father didn't threaten that "The Great Necromancer" wouldn't come out from under my bed and sick a ghost on me." Nadya clicked her tongue as she heard the other magician come inside. "Company, I presume?" She spoke quietly, glossing over his appearance once again.

Nadya slithered her fingers around her wand, tightening her grasp on the delicately carved wood. "May I ask what your intentions are as to bringing me here?" Her head instinctively tilted to the side, a tactic she was used to when intimidating her victims as they died slowly. "No disrespect to your honor, but it seems a little... Lower of yourself to be here." She giggled quietly, although she was quickly shushed by the voices. Nadya couldn't help it; this seemed to be a place she would come to kill for entertainment.

Nergal chuckles hoarsely, the sound a little raw and growly from his aged vocal chords. He likes this one; she thinks much like him in terms of manners, and she still knows of the old stories. Perhaps it's his vanity speaking, but he finds himself not wanting to kill her and reanimate the corpse...his ego does so like to be stroked.
He ignores the comment about the new Dark Magician that has just entered- he will use them when the time comes. He can only play one instrument at a time, and when the time comes, he will play them like a violin and cut the strings, of that he is sure.

He offers a small smile, only just visible from beneath his hood. "That makes it the perfect meeting place, wouldn't you say?" Thing is, the agents of the protectors are all either middle-aged guys in suits or do-good youngsters with something to prove and no experience with spying. In this kind of environment, they would both stand out like a sore thumb, if only for their ability to walk in a straight line.
"I have an offer for you...a partnership, of sorts," he wheezes, "You scratch my back...I don't rip out your spine through your nose." He offers a sickly, evil-looking grin as he regards her. He's noticed the slight tensing of her muscles- he knows a lot about the human body- and knows enough to know that she is tightening her grip on her wand. Durge doesn't show any signs of movement, but he can be over there in a moment if he has to. She wouldn't even have time to gasp. The Angel Of Death leaves no survivors...and since no one knows what The Angel looks like, she can't possibly know that it's him standing behind Nergal, and that means that she is likely to underestimate him...and that could mean her death.

Nadya pursed her lips as she withdrew a smile. Needless to say, she loved the idea of one of the strongest magicians out there to be seeking a partnership with her. She pulled her wand from her pocket, but kept it concealed in her cloak. "I will...As long as you don't dare leave me to die if my turn of events comes to that." Nadya looked to the door, turning her chin up as she watched the girl.

Her eyes drifted back to Nergal as she gripped her wand tighter. "You're more of a physical magician, aren't you?" Nayda allowed her smirk to show on her face as she traced the lines in his Turban. She heard the chatter of voices from the wand pick up again, hissing at her to be careful with her words. Nadya questioned them, although she showed no sign of this outside.

Nadya felt her eyes widen for a moment as she heard the voices spat the identity of the man at her. She didn't dare reveal that she knew the Angel of Death was with him. Nadya herself wasn't even sure how they knew that. What they would do if she found out...They were unpredictable. "I will help you, as long as you help me. I feel that is a deal. Although...I feel as though we need to make a bond. A verbal deal means nothing..." She pursed her lips and met his eyes again, the corners of her lips perking up a bit as the words slipped from under the breath.

Carlotta was aware she was being watched, but nothing about her body gave that detail away. Her frighteningly violet irises scanned the place in a nonchalant manner. She seemed to have perfect control over her actions. The eyes quickly went from table to table of men, past vagabonds and prostitutes on the bar stools, danced over the suspicious group of Dark Arts Magicians, and past more groups of drunks.

Quite casually, as she she focused her attention to an empty bar stool and made her way over, her long-fingered hands went up to her face and pushed her hood back. Now, of course she knew it wasn't only the Magicians who took watch, but others' also. As she sat down on the barstool, a women dressed in scant close nearby couldn't seem to keep her brown eyeballs in her head. A few men were also staring in what seemed to be frightened amazement. Carlotta's voice practically sliced through the air as she asked the bartender for a pint. She wouldn't drink it, no. But she would look a tad bit less suspicious. The bartender quickly gave it to her, all the while avoiding her gaze.

Having pulled down her hood, Carlotta had revealed her scarily-white skin and long locks of black curls. She was used to people staring, but she wasn't so proud to assume it was because she was attractive. Normal human beings were startled by her face because they had normally not seen one like it. The cutting edge of her jaw line and cheek bones seemed to always set her expression the same way. Chiseled, straight dark lips. Deeply arched brows. But it was Carlotta's eyes which made people the most uneasy. The white-violet hue was practically unrealistic, especially in the light of the oil lamps. And that color, oddly enough, was due to a birth defect. They always seemed to be calculating, always aware. Always watching, alway ready. And that's what made her quite seemingly unapproachable. But she knew better.

He allows himself a small chuckle. From the shift in her features, the 'voices' that his spies tell him she can hear must have told her something. No matter what it is, it must have been something important for her to widen her eyes fractionally like that, beyond even her self control to contain. Well, hopefully it will mean that she is more careful around him.

He leans forwards a little. "My magic does require more...physical energy, yes. But I have ways of getting around that. You may as well stop that," he says, indicating her hand that is clutching the wand, "You're not being sneaky." He chuckles.
"Nothing in this life is certain, least of all partnerships with 'evil' beings, but I swear to you that I will not betray you unless you give me cause to...but what did you have in mind with the binding? I am intrigued..."

With the door close behind him, Mercy grabbed onto his wrist, and pulled him down the streets. He didn't resist, cause he never needed too. In fact, Danny would follow Mercy anywhere she'd go, whether she'd like it or not. It had always been that way, and Danny had always felt that impulse to protect her, at all cost.

"For?" was all Danny muttered. He knew that answer, but he did like when Mercy was enjoying herself, so he almost felt obligated to make her happy. It was a stranger urge that he always had, for as long has he could remember. That being said, he didn't have much memory of the past. Anything older than a year or so had just vanished from his knowledge. It disturbed him, and he did want to know more about himself. But, as usual, Mercy always came first.

Ooc: Capri, I hope you're not talking about my brown eyed girl...After all, she's wearing numerous layers and a large cloak, not barely enough.
Bic:
Nadya shook her head, pulling her features back to normal. She was aware, and no less scared, of the Death Angel that stood in the room. She loosened her grip on her wand, but kept it concealed. The muscles in her neck must have signaled tension. "No disrespect intended, but sneaky wasn't my intention...It was just a matter of being prepared for the others in the room." She leaned back against the chair, glancing around the room. The dark wizard knew they were there. Nadya giggled quietly but silenced herself as the man brought the binding into conversation again.

"Ah...A deal of sorts. Nothing but the death bind... We will, however, include the betrayal factor. If you or myself commit something that is of a serious level, you have the right to break the bond. After the bond is broken from such activity, you may kill the other. However...If one kills another when the bond is still active...Their magic is gone. It seems fair to both sides." Nadya sat forward as she explained, reciting what her great grandfather was saying into her ear. "Of course...it will be bonded magically."

She slipped her attention to the girl. "And if an enemy is yours, it is mine. Same for you." She could tell her eyes glistened darkly black in the dull oil light, her secrets hidden behind them.

"Taking me everywhere." I laugh lightly, my feet dancing across the cobblestone as we walked at a steady pace. I hug his arm with a innocent smile, "You're the best big brother a girl could ask for."

I look around, the spirits seem to pass me by, staring at me strangely. Like I was different....

Passing an old man, probably drunk, on the street he stared at me. A glazed look in the eye, and violently grabbing my hand, examining it. I tried pulling away, my eyes widening. The man turns to Danny, "Not real.. You're blind to what's in front of you..."

"D-D-anny..." I stuttered, backing away slowly.

Uhhhh....I guess a protector? I'll post a bio tomorrow though. I'm supah sleepy atm haha

Nergal makes a thinking sound, and chuckles suddenly. "Very well. It sounds fair for my purposes." He indicates the Magician behind them, "Shall we invite that one to our little gathering? I think you could use some help on your first little errand...you see, I have a plan, and I need you two to help me finish it without drawing attention to the fact that I'm still alive. Those protector fools think they killed me years ago, a delusion I plan to exploit. Lets send The Angel here-" from the looks she keeps giving Durge, she's fgured out who he is; how, he doesn't know, but that will be something he figures out later "- to invite her to our little tea party, shall we?" He laughs, waving a hand, and Durge detaches himself from the group and stalks over to the other Magician.

If the other figure glided gracefully like a swan over clear water, Durge stalks, light on his feet, like a panther on the hunt. Every step seems a step closer to violence, every look a warning to stay away. He walks with the ease and tension of a coiled spring, begging to be released. He reaches the magician and stands in front of her, silent in his assassin garbs. "Follow me," he says brusquely, turning on his heel and stalking back towards the table. If she doesn't follow? He hopes she doesn't. Then he can make her.

Name: Garret Miller
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Skin Color: A natural tone of softly tanned white.
Body Type: Stocky, strong than he looks.
Height: 5'9"


Appearance;
Hair Style and color: Short but messy. The color is dark brown almost black.

Facial Hair: 5 o'clock shadow.

Clothing: He wears a long black cloak over his clothing, open at the front, the right side of the cloak is pulled over a holster on his right thigh. The holster and pistol belt are lined with bullets, and though it was obvious they were once made of finely tanned leather, years of enduring the elements have tarnished them. He wears a pair of plain black-gray pants, the cuffs pulled over boots. His chest is covered by a gray over-shirt and white undershirt that is long-sleeved. Across his chest there is a strap for a side pouch, which hangs from his hip beside a knife and a canteen. Around his neck is a rather fine bandanna, with drawings and outlines over it. It is heavy, and obviously fine. When pulled up around the nose, the white outline of faceted gem is stretched over the nose, an archaic-looking sun encircles the gem, the white lines stark on the black background. From the sun's several points are lines, which extend to the edges of the bandanna. A fine felt cap is often on his head. It is french in origin, the plumes tarnished, leaving the hat looking plain. Like that of a Jesuit.


Personality: Kind when he sees fit, and is often courteous to women. He is simple, but intelligent. Taught to read my Acadian foster parents, learning English from British loyalists, the man was conflicted. He has a tendency to spout curses while fighting. In an effort to remain in control during combat. He can be stubborn at times. Rude at others. He has a natural talent for wit and tongue-in-cheek humor. But years of harsh conditioning and running have changed him. Most recently he has taken an interest in his mission. To protect a woman from danger.

Brief History: Listed as an outlaw in three states, in French New Orleans this man surely sticks out. His french is slow, and he knows it. He was hired by the protectors some years ago in exchange for safe haven while up in what used to be New France. He was brought up among Acadians, but was separated and lured by the smell of Gold in the West... Years later, downtrodden, broken, and on the run the young man found himself with a group of odd French. They spoke of mysteries he'd never understood. Of worlds separate from his own. And explained why he seen and heard what he did. They were protectors. And they took him in in exchange for the protection of a woman. One job? He wonders constantly? Three years training in the Occult for one job? A far cry from robbing people in the frontier.


Power: Largely unknown. He relies on weaponry to do the job. He can see shadows, but that's about it. As for magic, he lacks the commitment. He focuses on controlling certain rages... Occasionally, he's caught things on fire. Boiled water or cracked windows while in a fire fight. But, aside form that, not much else occurs. He is unsure if anything else will.

Skills: Safe-cracking is an old skill, along with horse-riding, sharpshooting and quick-drawing. Swimming is also another skill.

Weaponry: Colt Frontier Six-Shooter http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6a/Colt_Frontier_Six_Shooter.JPG
Indian War's era Springfield Percussion cap Rifle-Musket http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/12/Springfield_Model_1855_2nd_Model.jpg

Danny gave a reassuring sound on approval as they walked. He didn't say anything, but was sure that Mercy would understand. They're weren't many people on the street at the time, other than a few drunks, and a group of people walking quickly. A preferred sort of street for Danny, not being social and all. However, as they were walking, a man from the alley bursts into the street lights. His eyes were quick glossy, but they were fixed on one thing. Mercy.

He pulled her closer to himself, his thumb pressed on her forearm. With a yank, Danny pulled her away, and stepped in front of Mercy to protect her. Despite popular belief to those who knew Danny, he was quick quick and powerful. His voice, when he did speak, often mislead people to belief otherwise. The man from the alley started to speak to Danny, but he wouldn't listen to any man who would try and hurt Mercy. With the quick wave of his hand, Danny pulled water from a near by puddle and used it to trip the alley man. Once on the ground, Danny swiftly jabbed the air, which sent the ground the man was on to jolt, there by rolling him further into the alley.

Without talking, Danny grabbed Mercy and tucked her under his shoulder, keeping her close. "Where are we headed?" he asked, his voice sill slow and raspy.