It was a new day, alright; one that required action.

Judas Alighieri was up before the dawn; she had been awake all night, in fact. Flecks of silver-dust made her hair shimmer in the dim light of the waiting room, her fingers tap-tapping upon the wooden armrest of her chair, those crimson eyes drifting aimlessly about the decor. Recreations of famous artwork hung upon the walls in a lavish display: Saturn Devouring his Son, St. George Slaying the Dragon, the Witches' Sabbath... A certain gloom clung to each of them, their subject matter incongruent but the feelings they evoked somewhat similar. She would have sneered at them if her face didn't hurt so damn badly.

At her knee, a young woman with pale, sickly skin and red-flecked eyes was picking bits of shrapnel free with a tweezers. Her previously-white outfit had been stained red from the ongoing surgery, and the paper mask she wore to hide her teeth was thick with the scent of stilled blood. Judas paid her next to no mind, save to awkwardly pet at her short black bob when she was being too rough; removing silver hurt, after all, and anesthetic didn't really work on the second-living. She took a grip of the ebon locks as a particularly large piece was dragged against exposed bone, pulling a startled squeak from the attendant, but once it was removed so was Judas's grip.

That bitch. That awful little whore, the arrogant robotic one, the one that put her here... Judas already knew EJ didn't kill her. No, she had no proof, of course, but sending the little blonde off to finish the job in and of itself was a ruse. Esper James Price-Wynnfield couldn't kill someone if she tried, if her own life was on the line. Judas could threaten her with the worst torture imaginable and that quivering little flesh-jelly of a girl wouldn't so much as lift a hand to strike out in self-preservation. No, she had sent EJ away because she didn't want her to see what she had become: the twisted mass of knotted flesh and knit bone that was her combative state.

Esper James had so much potential... Judas had done some digging on her after receiving that report from her sample-taker contact, some serious digging. Her findings were intriguing to say the least, what little she had found and was still finding. Usually, when someone dies, they're meant to become a certain form of second-life - it's got something to do with their DNA, and a bit to deal with the makeup of their brain, and a lot to do with the nervous system. The differences are subtle but present, and they can be used to accurately predict what someone would become once they were woken from the cold-wombs of a morgue. This was highly classified information, of course, but Judas was one of a select few allowed in on such secrets.

However, Esper James had been different - a deviation to the process. Something had happened during the revival procedure that had shifted her outcome, turning her into something she wasn't supposed to be. Everything lined up for her to become a vampire - everything from her personality to her physique to her fucking DNA makeup had been ripe for vampiric ascension, to birth her anew into one of the privileged few who unofficially ruled Vitus. She was prime, grade-A vampire material. And yet.

Judas sighed.

The nurse at her knee yelped as the door to the waiting room opened, a tall man in a black suit stepping into the room. His tie was blood-red and seemed to draw in the light around it to make it shine unnaturally; his skin was pallid and cool, but simultaneously smooth and well-kept. Both eyes were hidden behind blackout shades.

"Miss Alighieri - Mr. Tsang will see you now."

Up she stood, sucking air through her perfect teeth as the forceps became lodged within her slowly-closing flesh. The nurse's eyes went wide but she said nothing, instead gathering herself up with a sheepish look towards the floor. She, too, stood to follow Judas into the room beyond.

-

The office was dark. It was always dark, however; there was never a time that the sun had known the interior's shaded space, even though skylights sat in the ceiling to let the moon's ivory light in. The room itself was expansive, with rather gaudy baroque wallpaper, a fireplace (almost unused entirely) against the far wall, and a single desk with a chair on either side sitting in the center of it all. Bookshelves lined the room like a second layer of walling, piled high with tomes ancient and new, their topics diverse; however, occultism seemed to be a common theme.

A man sat in the larger chair, behind the desk, his hands folded. Judas could smell his cigar as she entered: sandalwood, caramel, whisky, and vanilla notes underlined the heady and intoxicating aroma of strong tobacco. Another cigar sat untouched on the desk, there for her to take, and as she sat she lifted it to her lips. With a snap of her fingers she prompted her nurse to scrounge through her medical bag for a lighter and pair of medical shears; the tip of the cigar was clipped and allowed to fall to the floor, the luxurious leaves within set alight soon after. Judas breathed it deep, the pain in her knee subsiding somewhat.

"So. Busy night, Miss Alighieri?"

His voice was buttery, syrupy, like molasses and brown sugar - but also deep, and dark, and smoky, a chocolate that just managed to toe the line between perfection and bitterness. If the abyss had lips with which to speak, his was the voice which would echo from it to entice and ensorcell the unwary. Something in the way he spoke lent itself to the idea that the was smiling, but he never smiled. His mirth was reserved for better things.

"...yes. Another assassin. Nothing I can't deal with, as you know... But they're becoming more frequent."

She had more to say, of course, but that was not the way of things. Not with him. So she held her tongue and shut her mouth, sucking down another long draw on the cigar to help still her nerves. He took a few moments off his own before responding, thinking of how best to respond, how to put his myriad thoughts into words. He was always so slow and deliberate - so very particular in how he did things, even things as simple as speaking. He had always been this way, from the first day Judas knew him up until now. How far they had come since then.

"...mmh. Assassins, eh. The Knights again, I should suspect. They're becoming a real... nuisance recently, aren't they?"

Now that was a loaded question. Judas took a deep breath before responding, her eyes shut to focus herself as another shard of silver was excised from the cartilage of her knee, her hands balling into fists to try and ignore the sensation. Her nails drew blood from her palms.

"Yes. But, a nuisance that can be tolerated, sir, I assure you. They're... Not so bad. After all, our profits-"

He raises a hand to stop her from speaking, and she halts dead in her tracks. He blows a ring of smoke Judas's way before giving his reply.

"Profits, Judas? We have enough money to buy this nation twiceover and still have change. You and I both know we don't do this for the profit. We have more important things to consider than money."

Silence hung like a guillotine in the office. His eyes were on her, she could feel them, even shaded as they were. It was her turn to speak, of course it was, who else was there? But it took herculean strength to push past the knot in her throat.

"I understand, sir. I didn't mean... I know we have different priorities nowadays. After all, the deadline is going to-"

He shifted in his seat, leaning across the table, cutting Judas off with his own words - they cut the air like black velvet, calm in tone but underlined with the edge of a knife.

"The deadline, Judas? I don't want to hear about that from you. I hear it enough from myself, and from the... Others. Did you know those lunatics in Mandragos are working on being able to implant your consciousness into their newer models? Stimulating your synapses just enough for the thought patterns to imprint on the new body, transferring you through some kind of osmosis? And here we are, still working on consolidating political power. When the deadline comes, if the deadline comes... We're still so far behind that we may as well just raze the whole country and be done with it. What'll happen if we're alive to see it is far worse than just being dead, truly dead."

She flinched like he had struck her, her eyes narrowing in the darkness of the room. Mandragos... Few people thought about it, the proper name for the 'Far North'. Long ago, during the time of peace before the world split back into it's current factional state, there had been an initiative to explore and colonize the stars; Mandragos was a station, the only remaining station, enormous and self-sustaining. Shaped like a huge ring, it was the culmination of millions of hours of manpower - and when peace fractured, it claimed independence. Little trade came or went from Mandragos anymore, but those that went spoke of a nightmare world of strange flesh and darkened, labyrinthine halls that the sun-deprived inhabitants stalked endlessly. Of course, propaganda was a powerful tool...

Silence again. She doesn't have anything to respond to him with, instead simply puffing on her cigar - the gentle glow of the cherry illuminating her face just enough to see her lips and teeth. His own are visible as well: thin, sharp lips, and teeth like a vampire but throughout his whole mouth. He left indents on the cigar where his fangs held it limp.

Finally he spoke up once more sitting back down in his chair with a subtle creak of leather and wood.

"I hear your little pet project is turning up results."

Relief. She nodded in the darkness, happy to have the change of subject, and especially for said subject to involve success, not failure.

"Yes, sir. We've identified another prospective subject for testing; she meets all the correct parameters, and she'll be easy enough to track down and secure for our purposes. In fact, I've received a few particularly promising samples already for replication; it may take some time, but she's definitely a solid candidate."

"And the issue is...?"

Judas wished she could bite her tongue through this cigar. Yes, he was right, there was an issue; the issue being that Esper James was going to take some serious fucking convincing to get her to the point that she could be secured and brought in. Sure, she could get some thugs to prowl the streets and kidnap her, but negative emotion like that could really taint the process - plus, much as she would be loathe to admit it to her terrifying boss, she was still quite fond of the little blonde. If they could get through this without hurting her or scaring her, then everyone won, the timid little ghoulette included.

Previous candidates had been terminated; they weren't trustworthy enough to be allowed to continue on with knowledge of Tsang's darker dealings. Either relegated to imprisonment, decommissioning, or 'stasis', there weren't any left that were ideal donors for this most clandestine of projects... but EJ was trusting, pliable, and easy to work with. She may be clumsy and a bit timid, but Judas was sure she could secure her without issue. She just needed time.

"The issue, sir, is that I'll need a... a little bit more time to secure her properly. As you know, our previous candidates were... problematic. In this case, I believe a more tempered approach will provide ideal results, potentially opening up pathways to repeat extraction. It won't be hard, just, give me a month, maybe... Maybe two. Warming her up to the idea, getting her back under my sway, ensuring she's not a flight risk, I can handle all of it. Two months is all I ask."

Tsang is wordless and pondering for what seems to be an eternity; the nurse at Judas's knee has begun sewing her up. It would take a few weeks to recover, but it would heal, hopefully. Finally Tsang speaks again, and that smile has returned to his tone.

"Yes, Judas, I can do that. You've always been my highest-performing subordinate, after all... And here at Tsang Solutions, we work on trust. I trust you will secure the candidate, I trust you will ensure she won't be a flight risk, and most of all, I trust you can do it all in two months' time. But know this. Any time past the two-month mark, even a single day... And a demotion will be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear?"

Judas swallowed hard, but nodded in the darkness.

"Crystal, sir."

Tsang claps his hands together as if he's just made a groundbreaking business deal, chuckling to himself from across the desk. The sound makes Judas's skin crawl but her heart set at-ease; Tsang being happy meant his subordinates could relax. He was a decisive and sometimes cruel man, but if he didn't have confidence in her, he wouldn't have agreed. That was more powerful than any promotion, more enticing than any bonus.

She was dismissed with the wave of a hand, a telepathic impulse pressing into her that it was time to leave; it wasn't explicitly stated, but she had spoken with the CEO enough that she knew what the implication was. Up she stood, bowing for a moment before being helped out of the dark office by her nurse.

-

The pair of women walked for a while until they reached the main lobby; no one was present, and it was still dark out, the early hours of the morning just barely beginning to creep in. With a press of her smartphone's screen Judas disabled the cameras, then raising it to her lips to speak.

"Main lobby. One pick. Scrub the last thirty minutes with white noise; set cameras to loop until cleanup is finished. May be a little messy."

The phone was slipped back into her purse to hide away amongst her things, something else - something cold and metallic - finding her grip anew. The ghoulish nurse turned to her and cocked her head, a sweet rasp of a voice rising from her throat.

"Ma'am, what was that all about, if you don't mind me asking? I-I mean, maybe it's not my place, sorry, but-"

Judas pulled the nurse close with her free hand, stopping her mid-sentence and causing the ghoulette to gasp. She began to stammer something out before Judas kissed her lips, soft and sweet and sanguine, the taste of blood and sugar on her lips. She broke away after a few moments, whispering under her breath even as she raised her other arm.

"Sorry about this, dear. You'll feel better when you wake up."

A single gunshot rang out in the lobby, and the ghoulette fell to her knees. Blood leaked from her stomach, staining her shirt and making her hands tremble from the pain alone, all the wind knocked from her by the bullet's impact. Another gunshot cracks her sternum with hot lead, and another paints the tiles with the interior of her skull. Messy... yes. Fatal? To a human, maybe, but she wasn't a human, nor was she meant to die, just sleep. 'Stasis' was the business word for it - the time between physical death and reanimation for the second-living. A team would be here soon to deal with her and make certain she didn't remember a word said between Tsang and Judas... but the kiss would remain. Judas liked it to, liked to give her own underlings something to focus on. Something about the kiss would remain in the nurse's psyche even through the scrub, and when she woke back up, all she would recall would be fixing Judas and being rewarded with a kiss.

The vampire smiled, looking down at her pistol, sleek and small. In the end, it was poetry - that working for Tsang always seemed to pay with death.