As long as demons did not rest, neither could he. Just about the only man fit for the role, armed with gifts and craft alike, and infernal things painted on his skin; experience was an added benefit, and an understanding of the beasts he’d so frequently come into contact with had gone a long way to grant him an honor, the burden of cleaning up the streets primarily his. Few others would follow suit, but none matched his singular aptitude. Still, they were help and they were appreciated for it. If anyone else wanted a go at a straggler, V would leave them to it. There were times, too few times, when he missed being outside of demand (indirect though it was; he'd been conscious of the duty he’d imposed upon himself). Oh, but it was better than sitting idle, and he would gladly earn the money from those willing to pay!
It was as much duty as it was necessity, and such a necessity led him hither, a dim and damp little nook passing for a pub, to walk among people in as much need as he, many of whom shared a like purpose; though a few of them had rewards to bestow for the killings of demons they sought. Not unlike bounties offered to prospective hunters, and V was keen on snagging himself a good one. He was pressed for it---so he could not be excused for his cocksure manner when he strode toward a plainly dressed, plainly groomed man offering a job of some great risk to the hungry wolves packed inside the space, all heads and ears turned toward him as he detailed the job aloud. V needn’t hear any more than the description of the beast and the size of the prize in only a few sparing breaths. An Empusa Queen, a sizable bounty! Held in the man’s hand was a slip of paper and a mobile phone wherein a photo of his quarry was stored and would openly be showed to all. He hadn’t even a chance to turn it toward curious eyes: the warlock clad in black and donning a confident gleam to half-lidded eyes made his voice clearly heard when he cut through the throng of bodies heavier than his own to emerge before the fellow he’d focused on. “I will take that job.” Glaringly he stuck out among them all, and with extreme prejudice their eyes descended upon him. If he hadn’t any experience with this, his every nerve would have unwound.
A pair of steps more, the paper was seized and the matter settled without argument. He felt he must have riled a few of the people behind him, the poor bastards. They may not have been any better off than himself---but where they all hesitated, he struck. Now he’d occasioned a tense spell of quiet, and soon enough came a question of his ability. Of course: too lean, too young to handle the danger. But no one had ever correctly guessed his age, and all had underestimated his aptitude. Ultimately, his authority won him his chance and the contracting party agreed to let him risk his neck. The paper V had taken was merely a written formality (one meager, though nothing about these bounties was formal), listing details of the hunt he’d accepted. It was understood he would return with it once he'd finished. Before he left he was asked of his trust, and in answer he assured, “If proof is necessary, then...I will collect a trophy and deliver it to you here. Before the night is through.” No more said to his credibility, he exited the dreary pub and stepped out into the crisp night air with his job now at the forefront of his mind.
An Empusa Queen somewhere within Red Grave was a massive threat, and V had not been in his best shape tonight. The sooner he could earn his reward, with as little blood lost as possible, the better.
