<strong>Name:</strong>Hela Gwaed<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Outskirts of the city, Kamryn's home.<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early morning, 6:15 AM.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Kamryn.<br/><br/>The Welsh vampire's smile only grew as she was informed of the rules regarding weapons in the club.<strong><em>No guns.</em></strong>This pleased the gun-hating Hela immensely, and once more, she gave yet another elegant and out-dated bow to Kamryn. "Recieved and understood, dear lady. No firearms, no exception." As she rose from her bow, and yet again adjusted her expensive suit, she pulls a pocket watch out of... well, a pocket, and peers down at the anthique.<br/><br/><strong>"I'm sure I'll see you tonight then. But if you'll excuse me, I have other chores to do today. I hope you have a most pleasant day."</strong>Now would come the more exciting of her daily tasks. Taking care of the 'Newborn'. Those Vampires whom had just been Changed, without the Princess' permission, and were ignorant of the ways of Vampiric society and their strict laws of conduct.<br/><br/>Giving Kamryn one last smile, she turns towards her expensive and vintage car, while pulling her gloves back on. Jumping back into the driver's seat, she puts on her driving goggles, and fires up the Jaguar's purring engine. She gives the mortal a friendly wave, then off she drives, heading back into the city. It was time for the Coven's assassin to do what she did best.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Hela Gwaed<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Industrial district<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early morning, 6:45 AM.<br/><br/>Predictable. That was one thing that was always true for the Newborn. They were always utterly predictable. They banded together in packs, hunting together, and bleeding mortals dry. And in some cases, spawning more Newborn. And while they were exceptionally weak compared to any Vampire of age, they were more than a match for any Human. They were a blight upon the Vampiric society, and one of the greatest threats. They risked exposing the Night Hunters, and they risked turning the humans against them. So Hela and the other Shades frequently went out to cull these packs of Newborne.<br/><br/>And the Newborn always carried guns. And as always, that got under Hela's skin. With her green eyes having turned a deep red, and her fangs exposed, she hunted. This pack had chosen an abandoned warehouse in the city's industrial district as their lair. The sunlight weakened any Vampire, but the Newborn more than any. So they had covered every window with tarp and pieces of wood. Not that it'd give them any advantages.<br/><br/>Hela could hear their scurrying footsteps. She could smell the stolen blood surging in their inhuman bodies. And she could see them as if it was the brightest day. They had her surrounded. They were armed with an assortment of weapons. Here, a shotgun. Two with pistols. The rest had more rudimentary arms. A couple of switchblades, a baseball bat, a wrench, a piece of chain. A formidable group, and they could easily have taken out a heavily armed police task force, had it come to that.<br/><br/>Yet Hela simply smiled and adjusted her black gloves, and glanced down at her suit. A shame. But at least she had a spare waiting for her in the dry cleaning.<br/><br/><strong>*Crack!*</strong><br/><br/>The shotgun roared. And the expensively dressed Vampire was no longer in the centre of their circle. All the Newborn with the shotgun had done, was blow a big hole in one of his pack-mates. Not that he would have time to despair over the outcome of his actions. Hela's razor flicked out, and a faint red line appeared on the young Vampire's throat. Blood sprayed forth a mere fraction of a second later.<br/><br/><strong>"You must be faster, children."</strong>The Shade cooed, her tongue darting out to lick the blade clean, savouring the taste of her kill. Hela was one of the few in the Coven whom supped more on the blood of Vampires than mortals. A perk of the trade. The trick to avoiding the shotgun blast had been a simple one. A cushion of air underneath her feet to act like a spring, propelling her through the air to land behind her prey.<br/><br/><strong><em>"Bitch! That was my brother!!"</em></strong>One screamed. It was the one with the baseball bat. And judging by his clothes, he had been a player of the game before his Change. The newborn charged, using all the speed of his Vampiric gifts, and to a human, he would have been nothing but a blurr. But to Hela, he was still painfully slow. It was the simple matter of just darting past him with her far superior speed, and trailing her razor blade behind her, letting it drag across his throat. Three down. Six left...<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Hela Gwaed<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Industrial district<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Early morning, 6:55 AM.<br/><br/>Pulling her fangs from the Newborn's neck, the Shade sighed. Her victim was dry. That could have something to do with his slit wrists. He had been the last to fall to her razor and fangs, so she had taken her time with him. Filling her hunger. One didn't spill so much blood without becoming aroused, after all. But as this poor shmuck wouldn't give her another drop, she released his dry corpse, and let him fall to the ground like the rest.<br/><br/>Taking but a moment to admire her handiwork, nine dead Newborn vampires in just ten minutes. Not her best performance, but still not bad. When they had attempted to run away had slowed her performance down. She hated it when they ran. Shaking her head, she pulls a cellphone out of a pocket, and sends a quick text message to every Shade and Council member in the Coven, informing them of the Club rules, before snapping some pictures of the bloody battleground. She knew the Princess would love it. Replacing her phone into the pocket, she instead produces a glass vial, and fills it with the spilled blood. Another gift for the Princess.<br/><br/>As she heads out to her car, she pauses briefly, glancing down at her jacket. There was a bullet hole on her belly. Checking the back, she found a matching exit wound.<br/><br/><strong>"Bastards! This was a genuine Armani! You can't patch bullet holes!"</strong>