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(A new story! Woo! Please tell me what chya think or something ^^" . . .)



A delicate heartbeat against quivering fingertips dwindles upon every waking second. Hazel orbs bug out as eyelids pull away and pale maw widens. Each attempt to catch at least a morsel of oxygen results in failure. The feeble woman tries to form words, but an unspoken phrase would forever rest atop her broken lips. And the man feels as she falls limp within his grasp.

The boy kneels on their basement flooring, each indigo iris filled with flecks of terror. His attention remains solely on his parents. And his gaze then follows his father’s movements. Burly fingers uncurl, separating from an elusive neck. Discolored indents reduce the value of once beautiful papery skin. His mother’s stunning eyes are no longer filled with a light of life, but instead glazed over with lackluster haze. Her petite figure wilts to one side before crashing down, hitting solid ground, causing the boy to wince.

“Mom. . .?” A single word in the form of a croak. The scarred child reaches out towards her, hands trembling. The humidity of the basement clings to him, but he only feels a desolate chill of loss. One tear after another plummets, creating splotches of darkened cement. Moonlight streams through the small rectangle of a window, striking the boy’s back.

“She’s gone now Vince, let’s go.” His father hisses between clenched teeth. Perspiration is visible above his dark brows and thin lips, trailing down the sides of his face and colliding with barely noticeable waterworks.



The father goes to reach for his squealing son, but doesn’t get to such a destination. He drops to his stomach, a thud echoing throughout the empty basement. And the son is frozen, as if gawking at the knife that sticks out of his father’s back. Curious and contemplative. Wondering where such a thing had come from. He takes a glimpse around, only spotting the surrounding shadows as he sits within the moonlight.

Toes of two black boots appear within his spotlight, bringing forth an abrupt shriek and a sudden movement backwards. And as the child moves back, the silver barrel of a pistol is produced. Cross-eyed the boy looks at this shimmering object, preparing to give one last outcry.

The sound of an alarm fills the naturally lit bedroom. Perfectly white, painted, walls seem to glisten with each touch of luminance. Pestering ringing draws forth a stirring in the farthest right corner, where a bed is placed – parallel to the doors of a walk in closet. Underneath the comforter and sheets is a lump of a form, which begins to uncurl with arms over head and legs straight. Fingers poke out, and sunlight dances against the tawny fingernails. One hand reaches over to the nightstand and silences the clock, whilst the other takes hold of the aqua covers and whips them aside, to reveal the young woman.

She sits up with legs pretzel style, and once more extends her arms towards the ceiling. Her lean jaw is forced down as a yawn crashes its way out. Slowly, her mouth shuts, and her arms lower so she can rub the sleep away from her sealed eyes. With her hands moving away, the thick lashes slightly part, collide, and then fully separate as she opens her eyes and scratches the back of her head through matted hair.

The young woman throws her legs over the edge of the bed, and lightly her toes touch the glossy wood flooring. She kicks aside the black combat boots, which were still somewhat bloodied due to last night’s job. Lethargically, she makes her way out of her room and around the corner, where the bathroom is. It was mornings like this that made her realize she needed to change the décor in her bathroom. Rubber duckies were no longer. . . wanted. Tonight she would find the time to buy items to redecorate her restroom. Hopefully.

Leaning over the marble countertop, she gazes into the mirror. A pair of heterochromatic eyes stare right back at her. The left is a sapphire, whilst the right is an emerald. Two gems filled with so many thoughts. Too many thoughts. Blinking, she scans the mess that seemed to be devouring her head. Just brushing wouldn’t be able to deal with this problem. She’d actually have to shower.

Rotating on the balls of her feet, she faces the square-shaped shower space, and starts it up. Almost instantly, a visible cloud of heat forms within the reasonably sized space. Her loose-fitting shirt hangs off her shoulders, and it doesn’t take much for her to slip it off, along with the rest of her clothing. She always preferred to sleep in something both comforting and. . . suitable. Pulling the sliding glass door aside, she steps into the pouring water, and then closes the door.

She doesn’t so much as flinch when the water touches her open cuts, which were beginning to close. Those were from a more difficult job. Something that she enjoyed more than ones like last night. That was much too easy. With a silent breath, she deals with her hair, washes away the blood on her hands, and then turns off the water.

“Demetra Wynters is our top hunter here at Avant. She is at both the physical and mental peak, as well as an excellent leader. The cover of our work, every hunter at Avant looks up to her. You, too, shall one day be working beside this wonderful person.” The husky man’s thunderous voice carries throughout the large auditorium. Every maroon cushioned seat is taken by someone between the ages of 13-17.

At the front of the room on the massive screen is a picture of a gorgeous woman. Her facial features are sharp, with full lips and mismatched irises that gaze down at everyone in the room. A mane of plump golden curls cascades down her back and flows over the broad shoulders.

The image disappears as the man clicks a button on his remote, and then clasps his hands behind his back. Straightening himself out, a big grin forms on his face. Pearly whites blare as the lights of the room hit him at the right angle. He is an older man, in mid-40s. Yet, his towering figure is packed with muscle and covered by a pinstripe business suit. The only aspect that gives off his age is the graying hairs mixed with pure black strands.

With another click of a button, video footage of Demetra in action plays on the massive screen. The teenagers watch in awe as the woman twists and flips through the air with ease, pulling out twin pistols and shooting at the mangled monster, avoiding every strike. Her movements are captivating, almost inhumane. And it was this woman who they would place as their role model. Demetra is the one they would thank for wanting to be a part of Avant. For being a part of the movement to terminate all Unique.

He then continues to speak, his joy radiating: “She is actually in this room with us at this very moment. Demetra, could you please step up here?” He calls out.

The video comes to a pause, freezing the scene. A hulking bull-like beast has its head tilted up, with mouth wide open to reveal multiple rows of disorganized fangs. Beady eyes are locked onto its target – Demetra, who is stuck in the night sky, with both guns aimed down at the monster whilst in mid-flip, her tight leather outfit gleaming due to the full moon – which she is centered in front of.

And when the screen goes blank, the young woman rises from her chair in the back and makes her way down the center aisle and towards the stage. Her strides are long and effortless, as well as silent, as though she is gliding an inch off the ground. The tails of her coat billow behind her, as though they are a black cape. And her still bloodied combat boots make a quiet clanking noise as she makes her way up the short staircase.

The man on the stage takes a step towards her, shaking her hand with his free one. With a model’s figure, she is both stunning and intimidating. Her curvaceous and tall frame can clearly move with ease and speed. Though, there is also strength as muscles are visible. She could easily be mistaken as unreal. But, that overwhelming atmosphere of a lioness conjures uneasiness to declare she is a true physical entity. She then straightens herself out, causing her perfect chest to stick out even more than before.

Demetra is surrounded by a group of male teenagers. They all ask questions, most of which don’t pertain to her job – but instead her personal life, such as: Are you single? She doesn’t provide any answers to these, and eventually shoves her way out of the crowd and exits the auditorium. Several disappointed groans follow, and the boys trudge back to their seats, where girlfriends scold and slap.





“Hello Demi~” A voice coos from behind. She sits in the cafeteria, alone. At this time in the morning, no one else bothered going to the cafeteria. Especially since they’ve come to deal with Demetra’s schedule. Well, almost everyone besides him. She glimpses over her shoulder to spot an athletic man. He looked nice and handsome, but his personality was something of the rotten sort.

“Trevor.” Demetra mutters in response, moving her attention away from him and over at the vending machine. The tone in her voice is a clear show of her distaste towards the 23 year old.

He sits beside her, and leans over to give her a kiss. She is instantly on her feet, scowling down at him. He beams up at her, a playful smile that she hated very much. It was nothing but a mask. From the shimmering turquoise eyes to the square chin, it was all a disguise for the hideous nature beneath.

“Come on Demi.” He purrs, patting the spot beside him, coaxing her to either punch him in the face or sit beside him again. Her hands form tight fists, revealing her intent. He tenses for a moment, a frown replacing the previous expression.



“Scared, too. But remember I was there for you that stormy night, after your first kill. I comforted you~” His smile returns in a flash. With a slight hop, Trevor gets to his feet, standing several inches taller than her. He whispers through gritted teeth, “Don’t think I’ll ever forget. . . doubt you will, either. Trust me. You'll come to me again one of these days.”

No missions. Not today. Not for Demetra, anyway. It didn’t bother her. She had already made plans at the beginning of the day to go looking for new bathroom decorations. And so that’s what she would use this free time to do. She is still on call though, just in case. There was always a ‘just in case’ scenario. Most days, Demetra wondered if she’d ever get a break.

She makes her way to her car, which is placed in an underground lot – where all of the Avant employees, or hunters, park. Demetra unlocks the 2013 Audio R8, unfazed by its sleek and beautiful design. The blue and black exterior nearly blends into the darkness of the underground lot, but then glistens as lights flicker on around her. Demetra tilts her head back, blinking once and then twice. She then lowers her head and slides into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut, the sound reverberating throughout the large space.

Starting her car, Demetra puts it into reverse and then drive before gunning it. She exits the lot, and enters the world above, where her car splits the atmosphere. The lights from street lamps dance atop the vehicle as it passes by, one second within luminance and the next shrouded by night. She slides her hands up and down the steering wheel, her gaze moving from left to right and then forward. She was aware of being watched, not only due to her expensive ride, but also by Unique.

Demetra stands in the dimly lit aisle of the store, scanning the items before her. She was never one for this whole shopping thing. She remembered when she was younger and would hate going to the store with her mother. Her feelings for the chore only seemed to escalate. Because Demetra could easily confirm that she despises everything about shopping. From the people to the decisions that must be made. She couldn’t ever imagine being a mother. Too much work. Way too much.

“Excuse me, miss. Do you need help finding anything?” The voice that comes from several feet away is drawl, and the enthusiasm within each word would need to be found with some sort of map. Demetra glances over at the scraggly boy, his bronze hair is disheveled and his employee shirt hangs off his lanky body in an awkward manner.



She didn’t look, but she knew he had nodded before walking off. The pitter patter of his tattered tennis shoes slowly fades as he distances himself from her and travels to another part of the store. Demetra stands still for a minute, takes in a subtle breath, and then reaches out to grab two white towels. She places them carefully into the cart, and then starts on her way towards the check out.

The petite child lightly steps through the doorway, his movements containing their own grace. His naturally rosy cheeks puff out as he holds his breath, a pair of tiny fingers whipping up to plug his frail-looking nose. Like this, he continues to walk down the dilapidated corridor. Peach floral wallpaper has begun to peel even farther than last week, revealing the mildew cement beneath. Several broken chairs rest within the hallway, toppled onto their sides or backs, but never upright. He passes by a dresser, that is pressed firmly against the wall, and even leaving an outline around it. Only one drawer remains and constantly juts out, but always remains empty. The hallway never seemed to be clean. At this point in time, tidying seemed pointless.

He continues to protect his sense of olfaction from a pungent aroma, which radiates from the man who leans against the wall at the middle of the corridor. He is the guard of this rundown motel – which has been claimed by a dozen Unique as their current home. The boy looks at the man, smiling with his nose plugged. The man, who appears to be in his mid-30’s, returns the expression. But, his teeth are replaced by all fangs. Silver coins for eyes rest within his triangular skull. Altogether, it’s no wonder as to why he was given the position as guard of the motel. He towers well over six feet, nearing seven, and is composed entirely of muscle.

“Hey there Declan! Glad to see you made it back safely.” The guard swiftly waves. His tone is light, and very friendly towards him. The boy uses his free hand to return the gesture, and he then continues on his way down the hallway, picking up the pace.

Declan leaps over one of the scattered chairs, and then removes his hand from his nose. Taking in two deep breaths, Declan runs a hand through his head of full hair. Each perfect curl seemed to be spun out of golden thread, which gleamed whenever the light would hit it. And Declan was always glad that a majority of the electricity within the motel was still fully functioning. He hated the dark. The musty air never bothered Declan, though. And he actually liked the way his red rubber boots would sink into the aged maroon carpet. Though the damp spots were another story.

His big blue eyes follow the movements of a small terrier, watching as the dog darts out of one room and into another. As well as Unique, strays have also made themselves comfortable here. His long lashes bat together as he blinks, and he gives a quiet chuckle. It was a sonorous sound, comparable to sleigh bells. In a way, Declan had this almost feminine beauty to him. At the age of 8, he could almost be mistaken for a little tomboyish girl. He never ceases to catch the eyes of women, who always fawn over him. But, it was alright with Declan, as he doesn’t mind the attention.

Fixing his fading jean, short, overalls and the mismatched socks, Declan stands before one of the rooms at the end of the hall. His gaze traces the cracks in the warping oak door, and his hand takes hold of the knob. Turning it, Declan uses his hip to push the door open. It gives a quiet groan of complaint to being moved, and once more as Declan steps into the dimly lit room and closes the door behind him.

Ivers was sitting down playing a video game Devil may cry actually the newest one, up until he heard the door open and knew who it was as it was the boy he was looking after the small and cute Declan. The boy called him Ivers as he calls him by his last name but in full its Tetsuhito Ivers, he was a Unique just like Declan which is why he probably had a soft spot for the boy as even for a Unique Declan didn't act like the rest you would be positive that he was a human boy maybe it was his spirit.
Tetsuhito on the other hand stood at about 6ft, a massive hulk of a man with large arms which looked as if he could get a bison in a headlock and snap its head off and he had a muscular frame and those who see him are usually intimidated as he has wide shoulders that remind people of a linebacker. Tetsuhito's face was almost always emotionless or in an iron clad scowl and it didn't help that he had a short Mohawk that was spiked up. Everything about his demeanor said that he is not someone for you to be around. His eyes were a cold black, and he wore nothing but dark colors which noted his need for seclusion.

He gets up towering over Declan to the point that just to speak to him Declan had to tilt his head up about 30 degree's.



Tetsuhito looks at him and felt bad he didn't want to dampen the boys spirits as he looked at him he felt sad that he had interrogated him just now but it broke his heart that Declan wore such raggedy clothing, now they had to stay out of sight from hunters so he wasn't flashy himself. He wore a black t-shirt with the words "JESUS WAS BLACK" on it and ash grey jeans with combat boots. He had found the shirt humorous and decided to wear it, but his eyes rested on Declans clothing.

(Imma try and get the next chapter up!! But it's a long one. . . so yeah >_< )

Declan watches with a smile on his face, his eyes following each of Ivers’ movements. The smile blooms into a full-fledged grin as Ivers exits the motel room. Now would be Declan’s chance. He dashes over to the bed and drops to his bruised knees, tilting his upper body to look under the bed. He squints, and then places his hand into the shadows, where he feared the big bad monsters were hiding. But, Declan was going to be courageous today!

He holds his breath as he rummages through various objects that he has been hiding over the bed, and then feels his fingers brush against something soft. Releasing his breath, Declan takes hold of the item, and pulls it out. A blanket that he had found four days ago. It’s yellow hue was fading into a white, but it didn’t bother him. He gets up and rubs the fuzzy material against his face. It was warm and very comforting, especially due to the subtle scent of lavender that clung to it.



Returning his attention to the room door, Declan speeds out of the room, hearing Ivers footsteps moving down the hallway and towards the motel’s front entryway. He heard the guard’s voice giving a friendly good-bye, and then listens for the door to open and close. One. Two. Three. There it is. The sound of the door closing is Declan’s cue, and he sprints down the corridor at full speed, his scrawny and short legs carrying him farther and quicker than anyone would ever imagine. He leaps and bounds over the chairs, clutching tightly onto his blanket. The toe of his rubber boot gets caught on an area of carpet that juts up, causing him to nearly trip. With his arms flailing, he staggers to a stop at the motel’s main entryway. Declan takes two big gulps of air, his chest heaving. He stares at the metallic door for a moment before opening it.

Ivers walks out the door and down the street, he was headed downtown to the shopping district, to get Declan some clothes. It was drizzling outside and his Mohawk was somewhat matted down but still was erect. As he walked people gave him weird glares as if he was a criminal but Tetsuhito didn't mind its what he wanted to be seen and immediately forgotten because if you stand out then it is easier for hunters to spot you.
It was dark and cloudy out but Tetsuhito's eyes were animalistic, the world became black and white the rain fell a little slower he had accessed some of his abilities to help him survey the area it was like he was x-raying everyone in his vicinity since it was raining it was messing with his enhanced smell as rain brings up a lot of odors into the air so he couldn't rely on that to see if he was being followed.

Tetsuhito was not poor he just wasn't flashy he had managed to accumulate some money at least enough to buy Declan some decent clothes but everyone who he suspected or was suspicious about he would turn down an alley or walk a different path.



Tetsuhito says as he nears the downtown shopping area, but with bright lights that affect his vision he goes to his normal vision to deal with it so he decides to go into an alley and scale a building coming over on the other side just to make sure he's not being followed. Tetsuhito walks into a shop and the woman at the front counter gives him a seductive look with a slight smile.

"Hello im here looking for clothes for a young bloy something new that he would like" he says to the woman. "Oh a man who cares for his little brother..." she says at first and Tetsuhito nods as to tell her its not for his little brother and she smiles...."AWWWW OMG your a father, its for your son wow nothing hotter then a devoted dad where's his mom" she asked.
Tetsuhito was taken back by her assumption but then again Declan was the closest thing to a son really for him....so he replied..."Ummm no mother just me and him." he says
The woman flips her hair..."Oh...I understand" she says.

Then she shows him lots of clothes, and after he finally buys some he goes to look at one more near one of the fitting rooms and the woman pulls him into one and gives him a kiss ...."Oh im so sorry, its just that you a father, and muscular and sexy.... umm take my number" she says.
Tetsuhito is in shock but he lifts the woman off of him, "look umm thanks for pointing out the clothes but im not someone you would want to get involved with trust me...but i gotta go...and get back to my....uhh son Declan" he says
"Oh Declan...such a cute name...just come by sometime i can deal with rejection but i do want a chance" she says smiling a little upset but walks off. Tetsuhito waves and grabs his bags and he's out

Declan is wrapped securely within his blanket, quietly humming to himself as he walks down the cement pathway, enjoying the feel of the droplets against his skin. At this time, he is several feet behind Ivers. Declan couldn’t wait until his chance to scare Ivers! The thought makes Declan silently snicker, his shoulders bobbing up and down with the sound. But, he is silent as he hears something to his right. The quiet clicking of nails against a hard surface. Declan comes to a sudden halt, and turns his head to spot the same terrier from the motel. It’s scruff brown form stands out against the people who walk down the sidewalk, trying not to step on its petite paws.

“Spot!” Declan calls out, beaming with joy. He was quite “creative” with the name. The terrier’s main fur color is a chocolate hue, with several splotches of black and white thrown atop. The tiny dog’s large ears perk up to capture Declan’s voice, and it jolts around to stare at the little boy for a second.

As Declan takes a step towards the street, the animal dashes away. Declan giggles, very well knowing this game. And this time, Declan would win. He speeds across the two-lane road, narrowly avoiding a car. Declan reaches the other side and enters the alley way – where Spot had been absorbed by the shadows, and soon enough Declan had been, too. A cloud of stink lingers within the thick darkness, but Declan’s full focus is on the game, making him unfazed by the wretched stench of month old garbage and decaying rats.



Declan quickly skids to a stop before reaching the end of the alley, his head snapping to the side and his heart skipping a solid beat. It sounded like a gunshot, something knew well enough due to the location of the motel, as well as Ivers’ violent video games. Declan didn’t like violence. Not one bit. Declan gulps, but the saliva gets jammed in his throat. Spot prances up to the frightened yet curious boy, and sits at his side. . . tail no longer wagging in excited motions. The dog gazes up at Declan with large black orbs, as if waiting for something to happen.

(BUMP!)

(You no bump thread... Sokolov bump thread for motha Russia... don't mind me felt like being a russian gangster)