Maurice stood at the ready to fight the girl if necessary, when the response to his question finally came. She doubled around and sprinted out of the room. Maurice made no move to stop her. He was fairly certain there were no more in the general area, and he was just about finished in any event. Even if law enforcement was alerted, Maurice would be clear of the scene. Everything he used had been untracable,  and whatever DNA he left behind was soon to be degraded. Maurice gathered the necessary correspondence, documentation, and other evidence he may need, and proceeded to place a pre-drawn alchemy circle on the floor. He touched it gently, and the room gradually began to grow darker.<br/>Maurice was out of the building by the time the radiation reached dangerous, bio-degrading levels.<br/><br/><span style="color: #0080BF"><span style="font-style: italic">There can be no looking back. These terrorists must be eliminated.</span></span>It had become an obsession. Maurice wasn't aware himself, of course, at least not consciously - but an obsession it was. It kept nagging at him as he raced down the highway on his motorcycle. As so many other vehicles, his ran on hydrogen fuel cells which powered an electric motor. Maurice would, due to his specialty, prefer a combustion engine, but Hydrogen was clean, untracable and, more to the point, silent. The zoom made by the bike as it travelled the tarmac was a result of the friction between the wheels and the ground - reduced to nothing when he was travelling slower. Maurice took a turn, deciding to go through Old Town, and passing silently through the maze of streets, Maurice saw something odd. A full gathering of people in an alleyway. That they were not ordinary people was plain to see, even in the single second they were in view. There was a small child there. Maybe in need of help.<span style="color: #0080BF"><span style="font-style: italic">It's not your fight,</span></span>he thought.<span style="color: #0080BF"><span style="font-style: italic">Bullshit, and you know it,</span></span>he thought half a second later. His witch-hunt was to protect innocents, wasn't it? How could he let this go?<br/><br/>Maurice took another turn and parked his bike. Luckily, Old Town still had some classic fire escapes attatched to some of the buildings, the one he now found himself under being one of them. By using his bike as support, he managed to climb up to the lowest point on the fire escape. With an effort of will, he began to ascend.<br/><br/>Reaching the rooftop, Maurice pulled his guns from his coat and reloaded. The bullets he had used were regular bullets - without serial numbers, of course - but he did have two magazines of silver bullets. His left-hand gun, he loaded with a normal clip - used for cover and pinning - but his right-hand gun were loaded with silver, for the killing shots. He hoped he didn't have to use them. Now, at an elevated vantage point, Maurice peeked through a clothes line - the best visual cover he could find - at the scene below. He didn't care who were good or bad down there. Anyone who went after the kid, trying to harm him, would get killed. Apparently, in the struggle below, someone already had been. That's when he heard the sirens - police headed towards the general direction of the apartment Maurice had just been to and performed a quadruple homicide.<span style="color: #0080BF"><span style="font-style: italic">And people wonder how the predators prowl around unchallenged,</span></span>he thought to himself.