<strong>One Week Earlier</strong><br/><br/>Kyle pulled up to the alley and got off his bike. The alley was dark and cluttered, but with his gifts it was clear as day. He'd done meets in worse places. He had the scars to prove it. Working the grey market, he'd moved gear for folks that meant they might not like witnesses. Like the grimoires he had in his hides hole pocket. A little mystic pocket only he could access. Still, you occasionally get the criminally stupid that thought he would roll over and give up he goods without pay.<br/><br/>So he had his blades out of the pocket when the first two guys rushed him. Common logic had it that a guy couldnt take a 'girl in a fight, but most croks with a 'girl did their own diry work. Which meant he usually had an edge. Or rather two, he thought as he spun one blade around to slap in flatly across on thugs temple before hitting the other with the other blades prommel. He turn in time to see his contact step into the alley and raise a ball and point it at him. He lunged forward as the light rushed out to consume him.<br/><br/><strong>Now</strong><br/><br/>Kyle rushed back into the world. Nothing felt right. His body felt wrong, the light was blinding. It seemed he'd been in an eternal nightmare that had him on edge. Even now he felt an urge, a raw hungering need that leeched away at his wits. He needed to filled in a way that was both primal and alien.<br/><br/>To Rachel, the ball released a Drowzee clearly near feral in state. She was dressed in body hugging biker leathers and carried a pair of swords. For the moment she seemed blinded by the sunlight and to bewildered to move. How long the shock and stupor lasted was unknown.<br/>