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11PM, April 1st, 2020

Bridgepoint, Emerald City


A man had walked into Mictlan this morning. He had looked disheveled, scared. His hoodie was torn in a few places, he had some bruises. He was rubbing his right arm, looking around with a frantic look in his eyes. He'd heard rumours that some kind of witch was hanging around, someone that dealt with bad stuff. He had just met some bad stuff, the night before, at the port in Bridgepoint. Some kinda demon, he said. A shadow man. It seemed to be just shadows and glowing white eyes under clothes. It had attacked him, it had beaten him, then left him alone. He wasn't the only one. A lot of the night shift had visited by the same thing the last few weeks. He hoped that the people in the shop would pass word on to the witch, before he hurried out of there. 


The public port in Bridgepoint was not as silent as one would expect at night. A few men were walking around, sure. Guards, probably. The man that had rushed into Mictlan and asked about the witch was one of them, patrolling at the docks, making sure no one entered any of the ships in the port. Some people would pay good money to keep their ships safe, after all. There was a party at a larger yacht, with music playing and laughter filling the air. They could be heard from far away, attracting plenty of attention. Someone on the city council throwing a party. 


Maybe the shadow man would show, maybe he wouldn't.


Perhaps Santa Muerte would find out.

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Santa Muerte


Always reliable, Atzi made sure to relay the guard's story to Ximena as soon as she appeared at the bookstore. As she listened to the description, Ximena struggled to keep her composure. She preferred to maintain a facade of inflappability, even with her closest friend. Excitement and fear in equal amounts threatened to leak through the cracks in that facade. It could be...have I finally found...it sounds just like...don't get your hopes up...not the first time you thought you...still, it's uncanny...


That night, on the roof of one of the warehouses overlooking the Bridgepoint docks, a glowing green spectral sickle sliced through the flesh of space-time itself and parted the skin separating the layers of the Multiverse like curtains. A woman in an ornate black dress with a crimson cloak and a skull mask walked through those curtains. She crouched down and raked the docks with her gaze from one end to the other, searching for any magical radiation which might reveal a supernatural creature, or at least the trail left by one. Once she had taken in everything she could from one vantage point, she ducked back into the Underworlds, emerging on another roof, and then another. She stuck to the shadows, which did not obscure her own sight in the slightest, doing her best to keep out of the sight of the people below her.


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The shadows were long, as Santa Muerte prowled the night, and yet, everything outside the party was silent. In a way, the party was a distraction. Noise, lights.


A lone guard walked near a fence, turning as the fence rustled. A shadow moved on him, as Santa Muerte appeared on a building above. Even in the dark, she could see the glow of the white eyes within the shadows, under a blue hoodie. The shadow man stood above the guard, holding on his collar, holding him up, close to its featureless face. 

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