"I apologize for waking you, Miss Tatana Wolfect, but there's something urgent I must discuss with you. The target we were tracking has escaped. We also believe she has a mortal man as a hostage." Elar sighed, the sound heavy with defeat.
Silence stretched for a few seconds, broken only by the relentless drumming of rain. "Is this the same target who was carrying a briefcase with unknown items inside it?" Tatana's voice was dangerously calm.
"Yes, it is. I would like to apologize for my incompetence." Elar's voice was tight with self-reproach.
"Elar, there is no need for all of that. You should return to base and give a report as to what happened." Tatana's voice was firm, then the line went dead.
"What are our orders? Should we go after her or not?" Joss asked, her voice hushed.
"No, we're ordered to return to base." Elar's words were clipped. With a sudden flash, they vanished, leaving only the rain to wash away their presence.
Back in Breaton's car, Olissa Eills, the witch, watched the city lights blur past her. The briefcase on her lap felt heavy with destiny. Inside, three vials clinked softly: the first vial contained saliva from a vampire, the second vial contained melted claws from a werewolf, and the last vial contained the blood of a demon. Her mission was clear: find a young man, then inject him with all three vials, and after injecting him, she must then sleep with him to conceives a child. This child would be known as an ultra hybrid, or a Multiplex, and it would be the witch's ultimate weapon. The thought brought a smile to her lips. Only the witches were aware of this plan. If any of the other organizations knew about it, they would have tried to stop it from happening.
"So, Breaton, what do you do for a living?" Olissa's voice was surprisingly soft, almost innocent.
"I'm a security guard at the Celestian Grand Mall," Breaton replied, his eyes scanning the road. "It's not much, but it pays the bills." a soft chocolate escaping his lips. "hahahahhaha"
"A security guard? How… mundane." A faint hum escaped her lips. "Hmmm" "Do you live alone?"
"Yeah, one-bedroom apartment. Nothing fancy. But it's warm, and it's dry, which is more than I can say for you right now." He glanced at her, a genuine concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? You took quite a hit."
"Oh, I'm quite resilient, Breaton. More resilient than you could possibly imagine." A knowing glint entered her eyes. "But a warm place sounds lovely. And perhaps a change of clothes?"
"I… I don't have any women's clothes. But I have some sweats and a t-shirt you could borrow. They'd be too big, but at least they're dry." He offered a small, hesitant smile.
"Perfect. Any port in a storm, as they say." Her smile was a little too wide, a little too predatory.
They pulled up to a nondescript apartment building. Breaton led Olissa inside, the damp chill of the night clinging to them. His apartment was small, tidy, and smelled faintly of microwave popcorn and laundry detergent.
"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing towards the worn sofa. "I'll get you those clothes and a towel." He disappeared into his bedroom.
Olissa's eyes darted around the apartment, assessing. It was perfect. A lone, unsuspecting mortal. She ran a hand over the briefcase, her fingers tracing the contours of the vials within. A low, triumphant hum vibrated in her throat.
Breaton returned, a stack of clothes in his arms. "Here you go. The bathroom's just down the hall."
"Thank you, Breaton. You're a true gentleman." Her voice dripped with feigned sincerity. She took the clothes, her fingers brushing his. A jolt, like static electricity, passed between them. Breaton shivered, though not from the cold.
"I'll… uh… make some tea," he mumbled, turning towards the small kitchen.
Olissa watched him, a slow, calculated smile spreading across her face.
"He's not bad looking at all, plus he has a nice body build, I have really hit the jack pot " she thought to herself.
This was easier than she'd anticipated. She slipped into the bathroom, the briefcase still clutched in her hand. The lock clicked open. Inside, the three vials shimmered, their contents swirling with dark magic. She pulled out a syringe, its needle gleaming under the harsh bathroom light.
"A prick, just a little prick, Breaton I swear," she whispered to herself, a soft, chilling laugh escaping her lips hehehehehehehehehehe.