London England ( CVNU Location)

@grimmwald:

"Yeah. You." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I don't have time with everything happening in Gothic and Grimm. Besides, you move well in that world. You speak their language. They respect you. Fear you."

Then he returned his gaze to the mass of papers upon the table. "Yes. These are the records of a criminal conspiracy that includes money laundering, arms sales and a protection racket. It tells a story. A story of money and crime stretched across time but also a spatial story of safehouses, stash houses and meeting places. A great web stretched across the London underworld." He walked to the map and took out a pin. "At the center-" Richard drove the pin into the map. "-the spider. The Shayton."

He didn't want to be here. But he had to. It was his last connection to the Harrow linage. Everything about his father's heritage was locked away in this safe house. Anything related to the Harrows. To the trials and augmentations Vincent underwent as a child. Information that Vincent craved as a child. Perhaps even his Mother's whereabouts. A part of him wanted to walk through those doors. But walking through those doors meant accepting his late Uncle's path. Something Vincent never wanted. He didn't want the Mark, he didn't want the League, he didn't want to be the Raysh Al Shaytan.

Throughout his life, Vincent felt manipulated, forced to fit the schemes of others. His late Uncle Declan, Lucien LeBeau, Quintus Knightfall, Sparrow, Even Abigail used him. Though it was indirect. And more her lying brother. At the end of it all, Vincent was nothing more than a tool. A tool to be used and discarded by his betters. Even now, Vincent wondered why Quintus hadn't come to retake The League.

I'm not even thirty and I feel like an old man thinks to The Brick. I never thought I'd live this long. And yet, here I am. His hand was shaking as he grasped the handle and opened the door. He quickly withdrew, as if he had touch the fires of hell. He unfolded his cane and turned away. But he didn't walk far as he now sat on the steps that led into the run down looking house. Amir will be here within the hour. I'll just have him torch this place.

@_dirge_: Here I am trying to take your side, and you call me a user!?

Well then, guess who's not coming to your defense?

@rosso: Wasn't happy with that bit. I was in the process of changing it before I saw your comment lol

@_dirge_: I see everything.

@hawkshade:

Falling silent, Grimmwald held Richard's gaze as his brothers words marinated in his mind. Folding both arms over his chest, the Horned Saint nodded, "I'll become the Shaytan", he said. Or at least I'll try. Whoever he was, the Shaytan was a man of skill sharper than any blade, and a mind stronger than any shield. And to claim his title, Grimmwald had to defeat him. It would not be easy. As he stood there with shadows dancing over his brooding face, he knew it would be the most challenging battle of his life. "I won't be able to defeat the Shaytan without you", he confessed, "That much I know". Knew that while he and Richard were once trueborn assassins of the Strigidae - they were not the Shaytan.

Glancing at the mountain of papers stacked on the table, Grimmwald listened to Richard's every word as he strode to them. "His influence here runs deeper than I thought", he paused, eyeing the pin Richard'd stabbed into the heart of the map. "Tessa was right, he's here. But I wasn't expecting this. I thought, maybe he was hiding from whoever destroyed the League's monastery. But he's here taking over London's criminal underworld".

IDK why but this was really touching.

There's a part of me now that wants to do Abby and Vincent vs Dicky and Grimmie.

@grimmwald:

@grimmwald:

The Shayton wasn't another ninja or assassin. He was the king at the top of a hierarchy of killers and Richard doubted they obeyed him out of the goodness of their hearts. If the Shayton was not a killing machine then he would not be Shayton. He would be dead. And the two of them had to take him down.

It was the only way to protect their family.

He said as much. "I know. He will be a hard fight. Perhaps our hardest. And we know nothing of the man. But he knows nothing of us. He doesn't know we're coming for him. He doesn't know our styles, equipment or our abilities." That was a dangerous sort of fight-- without an extended feeling out process metahuman combat could have a quick and messy end when someone ran into a power they didn't realize their foe had. "We're going in blind. But so is he."

@hawkshade:

There was no gameplan for the Shaytan. The shadows silenced any whispers about him. "He's a calculating man", Grimmwald pointed out, "Cunning. That it was this difficult for us to learn anything about him says a lot about the kind of guy he is". He and Richard were once of the Strigidae. Assassins that made fools of the mercenaries and hitmen that rocked political and criminal spheres. Few could hunt down a man better than they. Yet here they stood, in a crappy hotel room instead of a desolate rooftop doing battle with the Shaytan. Only an assassin of the highest rank could evade them. And no rank was higher than the Shaytan. "And few people would've made the connection between with him and those Irish goons".

"Because a legendary killer who leads a secluded order of assassins to be in an Irish pub - is crazy. And he knows it. It's why he hasn't been found yet", Grimmwald paused. "I know how good I am", he said, with nay a shred of doubt in his ruby eyes. "And I know how good you are. But against the Shaytan, we'll need to be perfect. One wrong move, one miscalculation and it could be all over".

Can't you ever just take a nice relaxing vacation -___-

@grimmwald:

The powerfully built vigilante nodded in agreement. "We can't afford any mistakes. Not just for our sake but for Tessa. If we die she will be exposed to her enemies." Richard didn't know all the details of Tessa's life but he did know how they met her; they were sent to kill her. Two Strigidae were not dispatched to kill someone who didn't have numerous and powerful enemies. Someone wanted Tessa dead.

"Perfection." He double check his utility belt, strapped it on and pulled his cowl over his head and ran a diagnostic to be certain it was in good shape. Then he walked to the window and took a deep breath. "The papers told the story. We know were to find him." He nodded toward the red pin at the center of the map. "I'm as ready as I'm going to get. You?"

@hawkshade:

"Nothing less than 110% will do", Grimmwald returned, eyes shut as his mind pulled back to the day they first met their sister. So many enemies. Few were more dangerous than Tessa with a keyboard at her fingers and a screen at her eyes. But in many ways, she was like a baby bird in a sky of eagles. "We won't die. We can't", he asserted, eyes opening to catch Richard standing at the window. "Always", he answered, rolling his neck and shoulders while his mind homed in on one thought and one thought only. The Shaytan.

The faceless king of an order of assassins so notorious their name was whispered, never cursed.

@grimmwald:

He met his brothers eyes. Richard didn't say anything. They went to battle again. Side by side, as they had always done in the shadow wars of their masters that stretched across the globe. Once more against a mysterious foe, once more on the rain-slick rooftops of some distant city. Once more unto the breach.

He took a deep breath. Then he was out the window and drifting through the darkness until he stood upon the building his research told him @_dirge_ would be found within.

It was time.

@ali_: Valentina thought a moment longer. "Hmm...Okay. Walk," she said, waving him on after her. She had already started out, now heading westward. "Rude to conduct business on other person's doorstep. Also maybe illegal. Not sure." She shrugged.

"So, talk to me. Specifics, particulars...What you looking for?"

@_dirge_: @hawkshade:

From the darkness, Richard rose like a shadow in flesh on a rooftop stroked by fingers of the moon's pale light. Like a snake, Grimmwald's horned silhouette slithered onto the rooftop, arms and legs crawling slow and deliberate, head turning in degrees impossible for the human neck. But he was an owl. A Strigidae. Finally, he stood to his feet, body twisting and turning till all of him - body and red eyes - faced the man most feared by assassins everywhere. The Shaytan.

The wind howled as it raced across the top of buildings, and suddenly, the air stilled. "Raysh Al Shaytan", the Horned Saint simply said, voice cold like ice as the challenge hung clear in the night air. Here, against the most dangerous assassin of all, he and his brother had no room for error.

@hawkshade: @grimmwald:

Vincent turned his head towards the voice in the darkness. So much for the Shaytan being left alone with his thoughts. He had no weapons, he wasn't adorned in his armor. To the outside world Vincent simply appeared to be the same as everyone else. He remained seated. His cane folded up in his arms.

"Do I look like the Raysh Al Shaytan?"

The Dublin Devil was curious. Who was this man. And was he alone? He bled out of the Shadows like a proper Shade. And yet, Vincent wasn't familliar with his voice. Was he a faceless man? Or was he a Strigidae?

"I admit that I am affiliated with The League."A wry smirk stretched across his face. "But the Shaytan I am not. Now, tell me what do you want with the Shaytan?"

@_dirge_: @grimmwald:

Richard stepped out of the shadows and stood at a right angle from Grimmwald, facing the man they found where they believed they would find the Shayton.

Vincent's voice sounded familiar. He searched his memories. The ruins of the League. The blind man. "To challenge him." There was no point in lying. "It's time for a change in leadership." He nodded his head toward Grimmwald.

Here he is. Again. When I investigate the League, there he is.

The powerfully built vigilante paced in a slow circle behind the mysterious man. "We've met before. I know your voice. Tell me who you are."

I wanna come to his defence but I don't know that this is happening! T___T

@hawkshade: @_dirge_:

"Do I look like the Raysh Al Shaytan?"

"You don't have to to be him", Grimmwald returned, his ruby eyes locked on the man like a panther watching it's prey behind a wall of leaves. Slowly, the Horned Saint crouched low, and his hands grazed the wet concrete as he crawled. He was searching. For vibrations, for the skip of a heartbeat, a jump in the man's heart rate, a nervous or involuntary shift of his feet - anything that'd tell him the man was lying when claiming not to be the Shaytan. But there were none. The man was perfectly calm, almost supernaturally so. The kind of calmness no normal man'd have if confronted by a devilman and a living shadow on a rooftop.

So as he stood to his feet and his rising form caught the moon's faint silver glow, Grimmwald stalked round the rooftop edge while Richard circled the man like a vulture over a corpse. "You're too calm not to be him", Grimmwald asserted, voice cool and deep. "Not many people'd have such a steady heartbeat, such composure in this situation. Let alone seated". That Richard recognized the man's voice further raised Grimmwald's suspicions.

Eyes narrowed, and his movement perfect, the Horned Saint continued to stalk. "You're the Shaytan".

@arquitenens: I'll be fine.

@_dirge_: You're gonna beat them both? Don't let them kill you or kick your ass or anything?

@grimmwald: @handmade:

"My name among The League is Abasa Mabo."It was Quintus Knightfall who had given Vincent that name. A name that the famed Knightfall had carved into stone along the eastern hall. A name that was supposed to be revered, but soon became infamous due to Vincent's betrayal. The Dublin Daredevil would not kill the pettis child. Instead, Vincent had turned his blades against his brothers and sisters.

"Neither one of you is League. I don't recognize your voices, though you were in the desert while we mourned. Therefore both of you are outsiders. If you were to challenge, and kill the current Shaytan. Both of you would be ignored because you are not League. Once our war with the Faceless men was over, and if there were any survivors and no heirs, then the one that killed both of you would become the Shaytan. The only way an outsider becomes Shaytan is if the outsider in question is made heir by the previous Shaytan. So go ahead and kill me. If I am the Shaytan. You'll be hunted down for the title. If I'm not. Then it matters little. The League would just chalk up my death to the Faceless Men and continue with the war."

@_dirge_: @grimmwald:

"We aren't here to kill anyone." Hawkshade would never again be a party to murder. Especially not a killing for the purpose of attaining power. In his old life he had seen such things dozens of times. Now they turned his stomach. "No one deserves to die for a name. No matter how much authority that name carries."

"No." He stopped behind Abasa Mabo. "We are not here to put another tombstone in the field of the League's history. Enough killing."

Is Dirge gonna go 1v2 O_O

@grimmwald: @hawkshade:

Vincent grew silent. They wanted a change in leadership. They wanted The League. And yet, one of the pair clearly lacked the conviction to do what was required. In some ways, Vincent was reminded of Abigail Aensland. But in others, he just felt insulted.

"You want The League, but you won't kill? Don't tell me it's your mission to reform The League? It's already been tried, and it's already failed. It failed with a lot of members dying. If that Shaytan couldn't pull it off, then no one can."

His sardonic demanor fell apart in that moment. There was genuine anger in his voice. But deep down, Vincent knew that kind of change could happen. But it would have to happen gradually. It would take years, decades for it to be realised. And The League would suffer for it. The Wolves would come and devour them.

@hawkshade: @_dirge_:

Falling silent, if only for a moment, Grimmwald allowed the man his exchange with Richard. Killing was the one sin they would not commit. They tortured, broke bones as well as minds, but they took no lives. Not anymore. So as the shadows danced over his face and his eyes watched the seated man lose the composure he'd held so masterfully mere seconds ago, Grimmwald sighed, and the air stilled in wait of his word.

He didn't doubt it. Not anymore. The man knew too much. Seemed too invested in his and Richard's intentions with the League. He was the Shaytan. So Grimmwald breathed a calm breath, and his eyes shot to the man's like red arrows. "You're delaying the inevitable, Shaytan", he said, wrist blade poking out his bracer.

"It won't be with your words that you'll turn us away. If we're not meant for the League, then you'll stop us with your fists, as the Shaytan should".

@grimmwald: @_dirge_:

The twenty year old snapped, angrily. "Why? Just because you couldn't do it?" He said, assuming the man before him was the one who had attempted to reform the League, ignorant of Abby's involvement and angered at the man's sardonic tone. Teeth bared. "The time of old men is over."

He looked at his brother and nodded in agreement.. but also with a sudden suspicion that the suspected Shayton was delaying for some reason. Was he expecting someone? Had he signaled for reinforcements?

"Now get up."

@hawkshade: @grimmwald:

"You still prattle on about me being The Shaytan. Being the one that failed. I have failed. But not in that manner. No, that failure belongs to another."The Dublin Devil finally stood to his feet. "Truth is, in another age you making it to the monastery would've gotten you through the front door to be tested for membership. Which you don't care about. You don't care about the League's history. Only what you can use the League for."Vincent tilted his head when he heard the blade extend from The Horned Saint's wrist. "Maybe you'd make a proper Shaytan after all."

He removed the red tinted shades that covered his eyes. And then his jacket, and then his shirt. Revealing the multitude of scars that blanketed his body. "Clearly you two are convinced that I'm a monster. I am. But I can safely say that the lives I've snuffed out were monsters far worse than me. So go on, do your worst. I won't even strike back."

@_dirge_: @grimmwald:

"Alright." Hawkshade replied. The vigilante could be brutal at times, when he needed information from a criminal or when he fought to stop someone he knew would kill again. But he had no intentions of beating a man who wouldn't fight back. That didn't make you a Shayton, so what would be the point?

"You can be the Shayton in jail, then." He pulled a pair of handcuffs off his homemade utility belt and walked up behind the Dublin Devil, reaching out to attempt to grab him by one of his wrists, pull his hand behind him and cuff it. If successful he'd try the other.

@ali_: Valentina sighed, with the curmudgeonly expression of a weary landlord fielding these kinds of inquiries far too often (and at far too young an age) for her sanity. "I know you want place to stay. You say thet already. What I mean is...properties. Different kinds. Big, small. Flat. Apartment. Condo."

She stopped and looked him up and down again, squinting. "...You some kind of mutant? Additional fees for powers. Deposit to cover possible destruction, one-time fee, a little extra per month. Small cost but necessary. Papochka's policy."

@ali_: This...legal-adjacent suggestion drew her increased scepticism and she turned to face him fully, now paying particular attention to his facial features. She pursed her lips and her brow furrowed. She said some words in Russian, then, in English, "This is very complicated situation. Officially, we cannot help you with illegal forging of the doc...papers. But I am supposing it would be cruel to condemn man to streets. However, big risk involved. This too will cost. But if you pay, we help. This"—she held the first gold coin in the air—"will cover apartment deposit and one-time fee, but not superpower deposit or rent or fal–...fals–....faking docupapers."

@_dirge_: @hawkshade:

Pacifism. The Horned Saint was taken aback. What kind of Shaytan yielded to his challengers with nay a raise of his fist? His brow softened with disappointment, a calm breath flowed out Grimmwald's mouth as he rolled his neck and withdrew his wrist-blade. "Monster?", he almost laughed, arms folded over his chest, "You got that from us challenging you for leadership of the League of Shadows? Because I don't remember either one of us questioning your morality or whatever. Only that you have something we need", he scowled. "Seems you think you're a monster", he said, watching as Richard stepped with handcuffs at the ready. "And you're projecting".

The Shaytan wouldn't fight them. He refused. And Grimmwald was disappointed. A part of him yearned for the challenge of doing battle with the greatest assassin of them all. The killer of killers. But alas, it was not meant to be.

I'm gonna kill both of you. You're both dead!

@hawkshade: If you hurt him I will show no mercy.

@ali_: Valentina rolled her eyes and shot him a side-eyed glare. She knew what he was laughing at. They always did when she spoke English, so she preferred the taciturn manner of short sentences, minimising exposure; but in this job, that part was inevitable.

She snatched the coin from the air and, without looking at it, stonefaced him and shook her head. "Only partially. Will need more to cover full cost. Papochka will look. He will decide."

@rosso:

"Okay, We go meet Papochka." Ali spoke, with a subtle nod, and a gesture for her to start leading the way.

Just now saw that lol.

@hawkshade: @grimmwald:

There was no smirk, no smile. "Let's say I am the Shaytan. Let's say we had a fist fight. And, let's say I won for argument's sake. If I did, then I'd make sure both of you were dead afterwards. That's how a Shaytan fights. To the death."Vincent remained motionless as the cuffs were now placed on his wrists. It wouldn't be hard to shift through the shadows and lose'em. But Vincent was curious.

"I'll only go to jail if you turn yourself in right alongside me. After all, this Country doesn't look to fondly on masks. But I'm sure you know that. You being the hero must've done your homework before coming here."

@grimmwald: @_dirge_:

Hawkshade would tuck his hand under Cain's Last Heir's left arm, right under the armpit to maximize his leverage, assuming the uncrowned king of the shadowy underworld of assassins, ninja clans and secretive martial arts temples. "Yeah. If."

"Luckily this isn't the only country in the world." He pointed toward a rusty fire escape on the edge of the building, illuminated by the pale light of the moon above.

The wind howled. In the distance he could hear a siren.

His mouth was dry.