Frank Castle was naturally very irritated. He’d been planning this move for nearly two years now, having figured he’d gotten adept enough at his job to take on the mortal form of a Grigori. Holy water bombs, Radiant Grenades, blessed ammunition, personal Wards, mental disciplines, and a ton of experience killing supernatural stuff...

Getting kill-janked at the end was definitely not something he had wanted to see.

Their Jersey base was one of the Mick’s secondary workshops, where he mostly worked on ‘private projects’ now. Things that tended to involve magical engines, super-science, and some really weird mixtures of the two.

He had a real blast doing it all, too.

“So, explain what happened?” Frank asked, trying to get over his funk at missing out on his long-delayed revenge.

“He got himself sent off to Hell without doing the job himself,” I said calmly from where I was leaning against what I think was a T’ugan Flying Boat. The Mick picked up strange souvenirs on their trips. “Moreover, he did it very under the radar.”

Everyone, Mr. Hill included, looked at me strangely.

I went on, “Remember, the only important part of Costas was his soul. His meat shell was Francis Costas. What he was on the inside was a Grigori stuck inside a human being.” I looked back and forth between them. “His true motive lay in getting out of his human shell and back to Hell, where his real power is.

“He was a very bad man who just died. Following the normal laws of death, where is he now?”

They all glanced at one another. “He’s been sent to Hell, like all his toadies,” Blade stated slowly. “He didn’t return there himself, under his own power... which suicide would have qualified as, right?”

I nodded slowly. “Exactly. He’s back in Hell, slipping in like every other damned soul, and those who put him here don’t know it yet.”

“And he’s going to take control of the souls I’ve been sending his way, while his rivals aren’t aware of it,” Frank realized. “When he makes his move, they’ll be completely unprepared.”

The Mick leaned back in his chair. “So, that sounds like something we shouldn’t let him get away with?” he guessed.

“The enemy of my enemy?” Mr. Hill grunted, leaning on the table. “Can you spread the word he’s back in Hell and building up an army?”

“No, but Dealer certainly could,” I replied archly. “Better yet, getting the Doc to do it would make more sense. He’s got the clout behind his words.”

Wong, sitting in attendance, nodded silent agreement.

“Then let’s get that done as soon as possible,” Frank declared grimly. “In the meantime... where do we go from here?”

“Do you honestly feel you’re ready to go into Hell?” I asked reasonably.

He looked around at everyone. Spears-in-Storms slowly shook his head, as did Wong. Seeing that, Chopsaw sighed in relief, Blade shrugged, and Mr. Hill just grunted. “I’m guessing no,” Castle sighed in irritation.

I nodded slowly. “You’re a Ten now. You can take on vampires in hand-to-hand combat and deal with werewolves the same way.

“Your goal at this time is Thirteen, and Fifteen would be ideal. If it comes time before then, then so be it, we’ll deal with it.

“We’ll do the background work messing up your target and making sure things don’t go his way down there. If you want to ramp up your targets or keep the fighting at the same level, just faster, broader, harder, we can do that, too.

“The money ain’t going down, either,” I pointed out to the more mercenary of them. “How much you make off those papers, Mick?”

“Quarter-mil,” he nodded, “plus ten percent of recovered holdings, which could be another one, two mil easy.” There were nods around the room at the totals, which didn’t include the hard currency they’d recovered from the estate and wall safe.

Fighting vampires was expensive, and they had bills to pay.

Like most of the stuff that had to do with supernatural stuff and the Maggia, there was a thundering lack of interest from law enforcement on who exactly had done what. Director Carter was quietly read in on any details that were relevant, but that stuff never reached a computer to be hacked or be seized by another section of the government to use against the people taking down their favorite bloodsuckers.

Frank considered that, not being opposed to it, but thinking of the Curse he was under. “Are the vampires I’m killing helping him?” he finally asked.

“No. The vampires lost their souls before you get to them,” Blade declared firmly. “The werewolves, however... I’m not sure who or what gets their souls. The Thralls, now... they still have their souls, so, yeah, those are going Down.”

“Willing werewolves who murder? They go Down. Whether whatever force is empowering their Curse gets it or Olivier is yoinking them, that’s an interesting question, and isn’t going to make him any more friends,” I also confirmed. “Of course, they’d be madder you are killing their power on the mortal plane in the first place.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Spears added grimly. He always took the lead in their werewolf fights. His increased profile meant he’d long given up his job at the Tribal Consulate, not that he or the Tribes cared in the least. If anything, his pay, authority, and prestige had only gone up.

“Then let’s continue with getting rid of the leeches and parasites,” Castle said, “and I presume the Doc doesn’t mind sending us out for more of those special projects?” he inquired of Wong.

“Sending armed killers after your enemies who are performing blood sacrifices, demon Summonings, Elder God Supplications, and Empowerment Rituals is considered very rude, Mr. Castle, and Stephen would never do such a thing,” Wong replied with a completely straight face.

“Right.” Nobody even cracked a grin, including Frank. “Just like he never did the last seven times.”

“Precisely.” Wong’s face didn’t waver an iota. “A Driver’s Road is known to lead them to exciting tests of skill and character, after all.”

The Mick gave him a short salute. His Ride was how the group went places most of the time. The Doc could get them someplace strange if he had to, but it was the Mick driving the Road who got them to most places... and sometimes that Road also got pretty exciting. The Wagon was pretty well-armored for a good reason...

“I’ll talk to Stephen and get that taken care of.” Wong’s dark eyes flashed. “It will result in the Grigori owing him a favor. That should be interesting to manage. Such things don’t like owing favors, and often set up circumstances where you have no choice but to ask them to repay the favor in order to stop what they started just to force you to use it.”

“The primary mortal agents on Terra of most of the Grigori are The Compact,” Spears offered up, earning him looks from everyone. “The Tribes have known it for a long time.”

“And the Hag hasn’t done something about it because-?” Castle growled.

“Most of the business of the Compact is done at the mundane level. Trouble at the higher levels circle around them, but doesn’t reach them. They are very good at staying off the radar.”

“You don’t gain the sponsorship of the Grigori by being hands-off...” I pointed out grimly.

“Anything they do personally with the Grigori is being done outside Tribal Lands. If they came into the Tribes, the Hag would come down on them, and Jehovah can just watch as she gets rid of His Fallen Angels forever,” Spears sniffed. The Tribes had terrifyingly little regard for the Christian faith and churches, of course, and missionaries found trips into Tribal lands incredibly unfriendly.

The Tribes didn’t forget the shit their Churches had pulled on their ancestors in the name of their ‘holy’ books, and more than one overbearing Bible-thumper had actually been beaten to death with their own Bibles by enraged Tribals. It helped contribute to their image of heathen savages, which they wore with spiritual pride.

“Good enough.” Problem foisted off on Dr. Strange, where it belonged...

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You can't kill a Grigori, but you can stop a thief!

If you're not reading this on Royal Road, you're helping pay a thief. Please read it in its original home, it's still free! You get the foreword and afterword, author comments, and comments from people with questions! I have not given permission for this story to be posted ANYWHERE ELSE.

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Time passes, filled with many, many other exciting adventures, diversions, and the nefarious plots of evil-doers!...

“College classes that good last night, sport?” I asked Peter, who had wandered in in kind of a daze. He’d started a course load at Empire State a few days ago with most of the rest of the class, although Danny and Luke had said their goodbyes and headed off to the Tribal lands for their dojo trips, clutching recommendations from Director Carter and Spear-like-Storm and doubtless hoping for some epic training montages and stuff.

The dojos tended to get all sorts of action, and the students were often targeted by outsiders of the Murim. It was half the reason why students attended them – real fights came to them! Some were real, some were just rivalries, and it was all good experience.

They returned the favors, of course, giving what they got, and so were built great grudges over time.

There was a newer, younger class of trainees who had been recruited, including Kitty Pryde, several of the Guthrie kids, Doug Ramsey, Vance Astrovik, Angelica Jones, Lorna Dane, Alex Summers, and others. All of them were going to Peter’s old Midtown high school, where Charles Xavier was ensconced as the principal and running the place. The fact that the school was now basically the premier mutant high school for the country was soon well known in a number of areas, and other schools were quietly starting to compete for students... especially the Powered children of the wealthy.

Oddly enough, the X-Men were doing the whole Powered ambassador bit, steering aside from the ‘mutant’ labels and not drawing any lines to exacerbate tensions which were definitely out there. The public relationship with the FF, the Spiders, and SHIELD certainly didn’t hurt matters.

Notably, there were two eager newcomers added to the mix: Fred Dukes and Mortimer Toynbee. You never saw two mutants so happy to get rid of their mutant appearances and embrace a soulknife as those two were, and going back to school and getting some training and education was a small price to pay for The Packer and Frogger to be able to look human.

Getting them away from their Blob and Toad names was step one, first thing done.

On the other hand, once ‘alternate forms’ became elective, the two were also much more interested in seeing what they could do, as opposed to being ashamed of and hiding who they were. If they were ugly in their alternate forms, that was their super power, and both of them were actually pretty decent-looking normally.

Fred Dukes was encouraged to become a fireman. He wasn’t the smartest guy around, but his powers made him ideal for the job, it paid well, and firemen were looked up to. Mort was actually pretty damn smart, and started working as an intern in the Baxter Building while taking some advanced level college courses. SHIELD was quickly pretty interested in him.

Warren Worthington had headed out west to hook up with the Aerie for advanced training. Given how dazzlingly handsome he was when winged up, there was no doubt he was going to fit right in.

He became the new Angel, while the existing one got bumped to Archangel, amusing everyone all around, and got a LOT of air time, heavy demand at all the parties, yessir.

Hank McCoy, big blue furball that he was, was winning hearts and minds with his good manners, charm, appreciation of the arts, brains, and unique appearance. He’d stuck around here, because he was having too much fun hobnobbing with some of the smartest people in the world. Getting a big reputation as an excellent reviewer of scientific papers, too.

Also, he got to play football without completely overpowering everyone in his human form, and the less intelligent perspective gave him a very keen psychological insight on how people thought.

Among other things, there was now an Interdiction up 24/7 unless there was a special project going on, and Kitty Pryde couldn’t phase through anything in the building, much to her mingled dismay and relief. Saved a lot of electronics.