The air smelled of acrid gunsmoke as the second shot rang out, the one meant for a dying cyborg. A heavy steel barrel dropped towards the floor, and after a momentary loosening of fingers, the weapon fell wholesale with a thud. Dust rose from where it lay, rising into the air to be caught in a brief shaft of moonlight. A woman, compromised and complicated by emotion, fell to her knees to meet it.

Her face found her hands in a moment, tears coming in a flood - lukewarm at best, the mark of a body not quite living, not quite breathing. Blonde hair shrouds her as her expression contorts in myriad ways, eyes shut tight, lips breaking into an open-mouthed grimace as she sobs. It is the loudest sound in the room, one which is only accompanied by the gentle whir of slowing machinery.

There is catharsis found in such tears, but even their presence feels traitorous. Emotions have swelled to a surge within the chest of the ghoul, overflowing into this sudden outburst, her pale fingers digging into the flesh of her face nearly to the point of damaging it. Everything hurts.

Behind the wooden desk sits a half-working half-human, the wall behind her decorated with a second bullet hole. This one is an inch or so from her head, punched straight and true by flying lead, the cheap material of the wall offering no resistance. However, death has not yet found either of them - for better or for worse. Briefly the cyborg considers that, perhaps, oblivion would have been sweeter than the Hell they had made for themselves.

Oh well.

The tension in the room has melted away with the falling of the handgun, and now the pair of women are left with the consequences of their action (or lack thereof). An assassin has been let slip... and a tyrant is wounded, but far from dead. Repercussion will be severe, surely, and reprimand is the least of their worries.

Minutes pass, feelings ebb and flow, and finally EJ stops crying. She lets her hands fall away, slowly turning her head upwards to look at Esthrielle; the cyborg is staring at her with her remaining usable eye, the color flickering without a sound.

They both let out a huff.

"So... What now?"

EJ lets her question hang, and Est takes a few seconds to consider it before responding. When she does her voice modulator is finnicky and failing, giving her a distinct electronic tone.

"Dunno. I thought you were going to kill me, honestly, so... I think now I wait to get picked up and repaired, while you go home and say you shot me. Right? Go back to your... girlfriend, or whatever? To the-"

EJ scowls, pushing herself to an unsteady stand. The gun is taken as she stands, slipped back into one of the deep pockets of her fluffy coat. Through thin fangs comes a sneer, the wall of ivory splitting for a moment so Esper James can spit onto the ground with disdain. How can Esthrielle be so casual about this?

"No. I'm going back to my apartment. I'm not... not going back there, not tonight. Not for a while, probably. She owes me some fucking answers, and while I don't know if I'll ever get them, I'm going to god damn ask for them either way. As for you - I let you live, right? So... So you owe me."

Est's eyebrows raise, and she opens her mouth to protest, suddenly defensive. "Hold on, that's not-"

"Shut the fuck up. That's h-how this works. I'm the one with the gun and the power and god damnit that's how it works for everyone else, it seems, so it'll work for me too. I let you live, and you owe me something for it. I want you to, uh..."

Her lips trembled gently as she tried to think of how to word the demand, of what to actually say. She barely dared believe there was a chance Est would even listen, but that was on the other woman, not on the secretary.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop all... this. That you'll at least try. It's like you said, right? We're both just, just pawns, pieces on a game board taking orders from someone else. I take mine from a vampire. You take yours from a zealot. But if either of us are able to be a little less shitty, then we should try to, I think... No. I know we should. I'm not like you - I'm not out in the East killing people or blowing shit up or anything - but I've always been told to hate you like you hate me. Who fucking wins from that? Not us! No one wins, alright?!"

Est is silent as EJ monologues, and as she finishes, the Italian nods slowly. Her silicone lips strain to form a smile, but she does, those metal spikes gleaming in what dull light her own body's LEDs produce.

"Fine. I'll try. But sometimes my hands are tied, and there's only so much I can-"

EJ casts her another withering glare, and Est is cowed. The latter woman nods again.

"I'll try."

-

Not much had been left to say, and EJ made a hasty exit. She ran from the factory as soon as she made it out the front door, ignoring the whipping winds and winter snow, running until she found a dejected bus stop on the side of the road to shelter in. A single streetlight illuminated her temporary shelter, but she was finally alone, and that was enough for her.

The adrenaline of the confrontation had all but run it's course, and another bout of tears threatened to show it's face. For a moment she had felt so brave, so headstrong, even if she knew fear and doubt and worry were nagging behind the false facade; now that she was isolated and safe, however, that bravado drained like cold bathwater. Once again the scared little girl she knew she was showed her face, forcing her to regress to a vulnerable, worried wreck.

How was she going to get home? How was she going to look Judas in the eye tomorrow? Had she done the right thing, not killing Est while she had the chance? Would Judas somehow find out that she hadn't actually killed Est, or-

Nope, no, no, breathe, stop, relax. 'First things first,' she thought, 'is getting myself a way home. Or somewhere, anywhere but back to Judas's place.' That was a given, considering the situation; things had already spiked into some kind of prickly, intense sort of thing between the two of them from their brief interaction after the fight. Going back now would only fan those flames.

It took her a while before she found the strength to stand up and get moving again, the desire to remain complacent and let the world turn around her almost overwhelming. It all was too much for her: the violence, the drama, the uncertainty. She almost yearned for the simplicity of her life naught but a week ago, when everything seemed to straightforward, so easy. Even if she had felt so lonely and insecure, she had still felt like she knew what was going on, or where her life was headed. Now she wasn't sure.

Upon further thought she decided she couldn't head home. Not tonight, at least. Judas might be waiting there for her, or someone Judas had under her thumb, or even one of Est's people there on behalf of the East to make her regret her earlier mercy. She needed somewhere to lay low for a bit. An idea struck.

There was one person she could ask to stay with... if she could find them.

-

Walking in the snow was about as fun as pulling teeth, and by time the ghoulette found herself in the warmth and lights of downtown Vitus, she was shivering and chattering so badly she was afraid her teeth may snap upon one another. Even on this weekday night there were still people out in droves, ignoring the cold and wind and darkness and lateness so that they could hustle for what serotonin the nightlife could offer. Plenty of locations looked cozy and inviting, but EJ didn't have any money or ID on her, so she could only hope and pray that she could smooth-talk her way into her intended target. No time for getting side-tracked.

Her boot-clad feet thudded along iced sidewalk slabs as she approached The Jezebel Club, harsh techno and industrial thrumming even from out here. A line had formed and she found herself at the ass end of it, shivering in winter's embrace, praying for speedy entry. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Seconds became hours as the sluggish procession commenced, until finally she was face to face with the bouncer - his glass eye glared at her like a judge would a heinous felon, judging her every sin. Or, so she felt, at least.

He looked her up and down, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brow as he seemed to notice the distinct lack of garments save for the coat and boots - but same as before he nodded her in, no words shared between the two. Salvation was found once more in the blood-reeking innards of the nightclub, its heat and humidity enveloping her in a welcome blanket. She declined making use of the coatroom.

Bodies moved and swayed like kelp in sanguine seas upon the dancefloor, slamming beats and flashing lights dousing the area in decadence. It both drained and invigorated her, the thought of blood sending memories of her date with Judas crashing back to the fore of her mind; she shook them away, proceeding to the bar, eyes scouting for a familiar face. Said familiar face found her first, a drink quickly following it.

"Heyyyyy, little lamb! You're here late tonight, huh? And without pants? It's, what, negative ten out there? Bold choice."

Roth's velveteen husk of a voice was just the ticket EJ needed. His face was alight with an uncharacteristic smile, bright and wide, fangs and all on display. The barkeep's thick dreads were in mild disarray and his breath absolutely dripped with booze and crimson drink, likely the same sort that he had placed before her - an ax-murder, extra pepper, just waiting to be consumed. EJ eyed it warily. Her last drink here hadn't been so succulent.

"Hey, Roth... I'm, uh... I'm fine. Just a bit chilly is all. I'll warm up on the floor, I'm sure. Hey, uh, speaking of..." She swallowed hard, emerald eyes flicking out towards the crush of flesh and leather and strobes. "Is Purity here tonight? I really need to talk to her. S'important."

Roth's smile faded quickly, face becoming a thinly-veiled mask of concern. He nodded, pointing towards the far end of the club, where the lights didn't quite reach. Vaguely, a hint of bubblegum pink could be caught if one squinted.

"You good, EJ? You look like someone's after you. You know, we don't take that shit lightly here; I know we've got a sort of edgy aesthetic going on, but stuff like that isn't gonna fly. If there's someone you want me to look out for, you let me know."

Roth pushed the drink towards her insistently. EJ relented, taking it in hands - the concoction and glass warm from the heater - and shook her head.

"No, no... Nothing like that. I just need to see if I can chill at her place for the night. Mine's got, uh... Water issues. Can't sleep there overnight. They're doing repairs and shit. Super loud. You know how it is, haha."

That was not convincing, but it was Roth's turn to back down. He nodded, putting on a fake grin and nodding with eyes shut.

"Yyyyyyep. Been there, I promise. Stuff in this city just can't help but break when we need it most, can it? Well, go get her - and don't worry about that drink, ok? It's on me tonight. We like seeing girls like you here; both for the business and because we like you. Don't you dare think otherwise."

That brought a smile, albeit a weak one, to EJ's face. Roth's concern warmed her more than the drink could hope to, and she left with the smile still clinging to her face. The dancefloor loomed before the diminutive ghoul, an inviting icon of hedonism and mindless enjoyment, but it would have to wait for another time. Right now, she needed Purity.

About ten feet away from where she had seen that splash of pink, a hand touched EJ's shoulder to get her attention. She spun, not sure what to expect, and found herself face-to-face with a grinning drunkard. His long hair, black and oily and wet from sweat, curtained his face on either side; he'd be handsome if he didn't have a dense aura of alcohol stink surrounding him.

"H-Heya, cutie! You look lonely, walking by without someone t-to hold onto you; mind if I join you, haha? Maybe buy you a drink?"

He attempted a wink, but was so far gone it came out as an awkward blink. Normally, EJ would have been intimidated by this stranger's attention - he stood a foot taller than her at least, and while he was greasy and sweaty and drunk, he was also lean and looming over her like a vulture looking for prey. A week ago she would have been scared and tried to slip away into the crowd, or back to Roth, or maybe she would have just left; tonight, though? She was way too tired and strung-out to be timid. She was angry. Furious, in fact. Her right hand went to the handgrip of her pistol, still inside her coat pocket.

"No, thanks. I'm meeting a friend. Bye."

As she moved to sidestep him, his hand on her shoulder became a grip, and she staggered back to avoid falling. His smile had become upturned and more sweat started to dribble down his forehead, though whether it was from dancing, drinking, or denial was yet to be seen.

"Oh, no no no! You - you women always say that, you know? That you're 'meeting a friend', or 'my boyfriend is right over there', or something like that? I, uh... I'm sick of it, ok? You're obviously here alone, so am I, let's g-go get a drink. What's the worst that could happen? We hang out and get to know eachother? You know, I'm a pretty cool guy once you get to-"

Another hand, thinner and more feminine, took up residence on EJ's other shoulder. She nearly lashed out at this newcomer until their voice pierced the pumping bass and screaming vocals, it's owner moving her hand up to gently caress EJ's neck.

"Hey, buddy, this one's mine. Get your own. Pet store's down the street."

Purity. Right on time, or somewhat resembling it. As welcome as her intrusion was, it irked Esper James even further in some small way - that she was being 'saved', that she wasn't allowed to deal with her own problems even when she tried to. The ghoulette pulled away from the pair as the man was distracted, lifting the gun in her pocket just enough that the handle and hammer were visible. The stranger paled, and Puri took a step back, worry and a hint of fear painting her angelic face.

"Alright, alright, fuck off, both of you! I don't need this tonight! Don't touch me, don't fucking talk to me, d-d-don't even look at me, ok?! I'm sick and fucking tired of people coming up to me and treating me like meat! Like an object! I don't want to drink with you or be your friend or fuck you or whatever you want from me, dude - and Purity? Thanks for butting in, but I'd like to handle this myself for god-damned once!"

The man was stunned, but upon processing that EJ A) had a gun, and B) was pissed off at him, he babbled some incomprehensible apology and darted off towards the bathrooms. Purity put her hands up, brow furrowed, her playful demeanor shattered by EJ's seriousness. In the flash and flare of nightclub showlights her catsuit reflected the hints of red and white and such, an inky wetlook canvas.

EJ's rage was sabotaged by actually looking at Purity, seeing what she was wearing: the sleek curves that hugged her like a second skin, the mirror polish that she could see her own reflection in, the heels that ended either foot to give her a few extra inches of height. Esper James dropped the gun to fall back into her pocket once again, struggling to find words as her fury left as quickly as it had come.

"Purity - Puri, I... Shit, I'm sorry, it's just been a long night, and I fucking..."

"It's ok, EJ. Really, I get it. Roth texted me, saying you were looking for me, and right as I went to head to the bar I saw you getting chatted up so I figured... Yeah. Sorry. Let's sit down and talk, ok? You seem like you could use the company... And maybe I can help fix your makeup? You look like you've been crying."

Oh, Purity. You don't know the half of it, do you?