He came at me full force – no more testing, no more playing. Pure vampire aggression, the kind that had made his species apex predators for millennia. Claws extended, fangs bared, speed pushed to its limit.
I met him head-on.
We collided in the center of the cage, a blur of strikes and counters. I felt his claws rake across my ribs – shallow cuts that stung but didn't slow me. My elbow caught his jaw, snapping his head back. His knee drove into my stomach, and I grunted but held my ground.
The crowd was roaring now, money changing hands rapidly as the odds shifted.
"One minute!" Garrett announced.
Marco backed off, breathing hard – unnecessary for vampires, which told me he was actually exerting himself. His shirt was torn, blood seeping from a split lip and a gash on his shoulder.
I probably looked similar, though my enhanced healing was already knitting the worst of the damage.
"I'm impressed," Marco admitted. "Most newbies don't last thirty seconds."
"You should've figured by now...I'm not most newbies."
"Clearly." He glanced at the timer, then at me. "We can keep dancing for another minute, or we can call it here. You've proven you're not useless."
I considered. I could probably take him if I pushed harder, used more of my power. But that would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer. And I'd already accomplished the goal – survived and proven I could fight.
"Your call," I said.
He studied me for another moment, then turned to Garrett. "Time. He's passed."
The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and groans, depending on how they'd bet. Garrett unlocked the cage, and Marco offered his hand. I took it, and we shook.
"You fight like someone with nothing to lose," he observed.
"Close enough."
"I like that. We can use that." He gestured for me to follow. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll talk business."
The bathroom was surprisingly clean for a supernatural bar. Marco washed the blood off his face while I did the same, both of us healing faster than humans but slow enough to maintain our cover – whatever that was in my case.
"So," he said, examining the cut on his shoulder. "Katrina sent you to me for a reason. You need work, and you've got skills. That means you're either running from something or running toward something."
"Does it matter which?"
"Not really. As long as you can follow orders and don't fuck up, we don't ask too many questions." He pulled his torn shirt back on. "You know what we do?"
"I'm guessing it's not legal."
"Nothing in our world is legal by human standards. But we have our own rules, our own structure." He led me out of the bathroom and through a side door I hadn't noticed before. "The supernatural community in this city is divided into factions. Vampires, witches, shifters, demons, independents. Everyone wants territory, power, resources."
We entered a small office – bare bones, just a desk and a few chairs. Marco took a seat and gestured for me to do the same.
"Most factions won't take unknowns. Too risky. But there are... independent contractors. Groups that do the jobs the major players don't want to dirty their hands with."
"Mercenaries," I translated.
"Exactly. We call ourselves the Jackals. Cute, right?" His tone was dry. "We're small, maybe twenty people total. We take contracts from anyone who can pay – retrieval, enforcement, occasionally wet work. In return, we get money, protection from the bigger factions stepping on us, and access to resources."
"And you want me to join."
"I'm offering you a trial run. You take a few jobs, prove you're reliable, and maybe you become a permanent member. Or you fuck up, and we part ways. Simple."
[Quest Available: Join the Jackals]
[Faction: Independent Contractors (Low Tier)]
[Benefit: Income, protection, access to supernatural community]
[Risk: Dangerous work, potential enemies, faction politics]
[Accept?]
I didn't need the system to tell me this was a good opportunity. The Jackals would give me exactly what I needed – a foothold in the supernatural world, money to survive, and most importantly, access to the kinds of people and situations where I'd encounter potential targets.
Women in rival factions. Clients who needed services. Supernatural beings I'd meet through the work.
"What's the first job?" I asked.
Marco smiled. "Does that mean you're in?"
"Provisionally. I want to see what I'm getting into."
"Fair." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through messages. "We've got a retrieval coming up. Some rich vampire in the North District lost a family heirloom – apparently, his ex-wife took it when she left him. He wants it back, she refuses to give it up, and it's getting messy."
"You want me to steal from a vampire's ex-wife."
"I want you to retrieve property that legally belongs to our client," Marco corrected. "What she does after we take it back isn't our problem."
"What's the heirloom?"
"Necklace. Old, probably magical, definitely expensive. The ex-wife is a witch – mid-level power, part of the Thornwood Coven. She's got the necklace warded, which is why this isn't a smash-and-grab."
A witch. Mid-level power. Part of a coven.
[Potential Target Identified: Vampire's Ex-Wife]
[Species: Witch]
[Affiliation: Thornwood Coven]
[Estimated Essence Value: Unknown - Requires Assessment]
[Corruption Difficulty: Moderate to High]