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July 2017 

Greenbank 

 

As the gateway slammed shut beneath Phantom's spells, Fast-Forward reflexively threw a hand over his eyes, shielding himself from the flare of mystic energies that meant that doorway to the Mayan realms were closed - for now. Quiet settled into the warehouse now, minus the scuttling and yowling of the few werejaguars that Ix Chel had created upon her first emergence to the realm of men. Or so his mystic book had told him, when he'd gone searching through it, not long before the beginning of the investigation earlier that week that had led he and Phantom to the same spot. 

 

"Thanks for this, Phantom," he said, standing with unexpected quietitude on the burn mark on the floor where the portal had lain. "Maria wouldn't have appreciated this getting out." He sighed softly, almost imperceptibly, thinking of FORCE Ops, El Gato, and how fate had led him to be the custodian of their memory even though he'd spent over a decade as one of their greatest enemies. 

 

-

 

There were considerably more werejaguars than Daggers had anticipated. He'd run into them running out the back of the warehouse, the group of half-dozen in what had been security guard uniforms turning out to be formidable foes. "You'll be the first in Ix-Chel's new army! The jaguar goddess will be the birth of a new age!" 

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"It's no trouble. I'm not eager to see this realm infested with were-jaguars. Its hell on the local cryptozoology." It wasn't entirely easy to tell if Phantom was being serious or not from her tone, with her face largely in the shadows of her hood. Her glowing gaze flicked over the warehouse and the noises it made. "Though it seems like I'll be finding a home for the ones that were already afflicted if things can't be reversed. Strangely, its far easier for lycanthropic strains to take effect than it ever is to reverse them. Hmmm..." She trailed off as if considering the concerns of rounding up the felines and finding a home for them as she floated transparently in the warehouses gloom. 

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The night air was was pretty damp. Warehouse districts, abandoned or not, were pretty damn noxious in smell and taste. Unfortunately for Daggers, he didn't have the luxury of changing his suit on the fly. The daggers that he bonded with knew there would be something going on here. "Focus, Jason," they mentally told him, "one momentary distraction could be your last." While the daggers were morbid, they were right. He had learned to live with the nagging and some times used it to his advantage.

 

Tonight's hunt would bring him in contact with werecreatures. The daggers loaded his mind with thoughts and information about the creature as they gleefully tore into the evil creatures. "Your back, to your left. Those obsidian blades are positively magical. Maybe we should nab a few. You know, research. You're not going to get better than me, you know?"

 

Then more came. There were a lot more than he or the daggers anticipated. Jason smiled at the 'invitation' of joining the army. "Come on, boys," Jason grinned and spoke with a heavy voice, "the night is young. But yours? It's almost over."

Edited by Twisted Mortal

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