Cole stepped off the tram and started heading for the stairs to get to street level. He had been expected to show up at the club over twenty minutes ago for an 'impromptu meeting', but the train had its own schedule. Some of the SI lieutenants would point out to him (again) that he should just invest in a car. That was fine. He'd do what he always did and say nothing. Even if they were the kind of Darksider capable of remembering what he had to say, he didn't owe them an answer.<i>She </i>was the only one he owed an explanation to, and she would understand. She always did. Because what he lacked in convenience, he made up for in unwavering loyalty, professionalism, and a unique skill set. On some level, Cole supposed he preferred working for the blood countess because he admired the woman herself.<i>'Admiration balanced with caution.'</i>He reminded himself. She was a survivor, and he respected that, but he never once made the mistake of thinking their relationship was anything beyond business, so he knew that no matter what his opinion of her, or her of him, he should always be prepared to cut and run.<br/><br/>Because she was a survivor, but she was<i>also </i>a predator.<br/><br/>At the crosswalk, he came to a stop, taking a subtle glance at the people milling about around him. As the traffic light turned red, he made his way across in the midst of a group of college kids, apparently on their way back from seeing a sold-out show. None of them looked his way or even seemed to register his existence. In a moment of loudly gesturing about the encore they had witnessed, one of the older students bumped into Cole. They quickly spun around, startled at noticing him for the first time, "Oh! Uh, sorry, man." Cole did what he always did.<br/><br/>He said nothing.<br/><br/>Red eyes glared at the student from a face marked with faint scars. His hair was black and came down in messy bangs that framed a cold and impassive expression. Though his wardrobe was fairly simple, a combination of white tailored shirt, black tailored jacket with matching slacks, and shoes, those details seemed inconsequential next to the strange feeling that this man was almost<i>impossible </i>to focus on. The more the poor undergrad tried to look at who he was apologizing to, the more those features seemed to blur in front of his eyes. The kid started to lift their hands as if making an attempt to try and wipe off Cole's jacket, but stopped mid-way as they had the disturbing sensation of their depth perception failing them. He was standing right in front of them, but they couldn't tell how close he was or what he really looked like. In fact, the more the student stared, the more his head started to hurt, like he was attempting to see the blind-spot in his own eye, even when his brain actively tried to prevent him from noticing it. Only one detail seemed to stand out, the eyes.<i>Those red eyes.</i>He stood frozen, on the cusp of abject horror when one of his friends shouted at him, causing him to turn and look back at the group, forgetting Cole in that very instant. Cole, however, turned to continue walking. The college kids took the next crosswalk on their way to the car lot, the undergrad who had bumped into him was once again sharing in the afterglow of a live show with their friends. It was as if the entire event had never happened...almost.<br/><br/>There was an itch at the back of that student's mind, like a half remembered dream, something that gave him a very important, very urgent sense that something was<i>wrong</i>. He could not, and would not be able to put these thoughts into words, but later that evening when he eventually drifted off to sleep, one detail would come floating up to the surface from his subconscious and he would wake in a cold sweat remembering red eyes glaring at him.<br/><br/>A few minutes later, Cole stepped into the back alley behind the club and made his way to the rear entrance. As always, two guards were posted at the door, their huge, imposing forms doing half the work. It was standard practice to use Darksiders for security these days, if for no other reason than intimidation factor alone. Even as the world had more or less adapted to this new age, most people still found seven foot tall orcs scary as hell. Cole, on the other hand, knew the guys. "Evening Mike, hey Daryl." he said to the bruisers looming over him. One orc seemed to straighten and peered down at Cole, snorting and then uttering in a deep baritone dripping with malice, "VIPs only. Get lost." Cole didn't seem to react to this at all, he just calmly pulled his phone, tapped in a message, and the guard's own phone seemed to buzz a second later. The guard seemed confused a moment, before checking who had texted him. The message simply read,<i>"It's me."</i>Daryl still seemed confused, even as Mike recognized the phone number. It was a special case their superiors had warned them about back when they first started working here. At the time, it had seemed silly, but they had long since learned the necessity. Mike looked up, embarrassed to have made the mistake again, "I'm sorry Cole, I did it again, didn't I?" Cole did his best to offer a reassuring smile, even if it was mostly fake, "It's ok, Mike. You forget every time I forgive you too." The orc let out a laugh and opened the door for him, blissfully unaware of just how many times Cole had used that joke. As he stepped inside, Daryl watched the alley to ensure there was no tail following him. It was all standard practice of course. The idea of Cole being followed was ridiculous.<br/><br/>Inside the club, the walls seemed to thump and hum with the muffled music that blasted in the room just beyond. Cole was thankful for that, and even if he didn't have trouble navigating a crowd without getting bumped into by nearly every person there, he would still have preferred this back entrance for the relative peace and quiet. Only problem with it was that he was sure to run into-<br/><br/>"Hey Genie! Grant me a wish!" Alphonso shouted as Cole rounded a corner on his way to the stairs. He stopped and closed his eyes in quiet frustration rather than risk rolling them out of his skull. With a barely hidden reluctance, he turned to face the reptilian man. Alphonso was a contractor, like Cole himself, and not technically a member of the SI, but he had connections which were apparently useful and he was a Darksider, made painfully obvious by his green scaly skin, and serpentine eyes. The features contrasted against his purple tailored suit which he flaunted just as much as his toxic personality. If being dislikeable were a Darksider trait, Cole wouldn't be surprised if Alphonso had it, but instead the snake-man had used his connections and influence to slither his way into the SI and was even granted a seat at the table now and again. Cole couldn't begin to understand why. The man was a liability in his eyes.<br/><br/>Right now those eyes were giving a cold and frankly tired glare, "Not now, Phons." Cole spoke in a quiet but measured tone. Phons wasn't human enough to be effected by Cole's abilities, and so he was fully aware when he poked fun at Cole's Darksider origin every time they met. Cole had been fooled the first two times, patiently explaining that the stories of magic lamps with djinn inside were all works of fiction. The third time, Cole caught on by a slight variation in how Phons posed the question. Since then, it had become clear to Cole that the snake knew he had been found out and just didn't care. The snake-man mocked surprise at Cole's words, throwing up his clawed hands in surrender, "Oh! I'm sorry! Did I forget? Silly me! I'll tell you what, run along to your master and see if she'll<i>rub your lamp.</i>" As the serpent leered at him, a flare of white hot anger shot through Cole's mind, and he immediately pictured at least three ways he could put the snake in traction for the next six months. It was bait, and Cole knew it. He couldn't be sure if Phons was trying to get under his skin for fun or if he had an angle, but it wouldn't work unless Cole acted on it. The snake knew how to strike a nerve too, as the more foolish of the new recruits whispered rumors wondering about just what the dynamic was between Cole and their leader. Had it been used on anyone else, Phons might have gotten exactly what he wanted, but Cole recognized power only existed within control. There was nothing to gain from force feeding this asshole his own teeth, and even if temporarily satisfying, it could only create trouble down the line. Cole had survived this long by not falling for obvious traps such as that. This was work. You didn't have to like your co-workers. The brilliant burning star of anger within him died back down to the same smoldering ember it always was, and he simply turned from Alphonso and made his way down the stairs.