Graven sat in the cafe seating of a small but upscale restaurant in Babylon Central Square.  He was trying to blend in, and wore a black silk shirt along with jeans and a vest.  His long dark hair and impressive physique made his server stare a little when she thought he wasn't looking.  A model?  An athlete?  He was a difficult figure to ignore.  A half-dozen crumpled tourist guides occupied the opposite side of the table, discarded almost as soon as he'd opened them.  They were useless, and he was starting to get bored.  He'd stolen some jewelry after ditching the yacht, and so he had money for a while...but not enough to get up to anything interesting.<br/><br/>He cut into a steak, served nearly blue, and sipped whiskey as he watched the television.  Maybe it was time to move on.  He could go back to work as a bounty hunter, or he could find a new hobby.  Maybe he should find some young women to corrupt, or do a big robbery and get up to some real debauchery for a while.  The civil unrest in the US sounded like a nice place to vacation, and the situation in Africa made him think he might be able to find work as a mercenary.  It had been a while since he'd done that, and it might be fun to get back to it.  Diamonds, though...not something he liked the sound of.  His eyes narrowed as the report continued, and the video of the firefight flashed across the screen.  He knew what he was looking at, and it wasn't any kid with a damned computer.  Somebody knew enough of what was going on to lie and cover it up, though.  And the diamonds.  Why were they after diamonds?  It wouldn't be enough to pay for a war, after all.<br/><br/><em>Shit.</em><br/><br/>He had to be wrong.  He'd been on Earth for decades, just having fun and staying out of real trouble.  It had been years since anyone had really come after him, and now<em>this.</em>It sounded like a lot of demons, too many.  Someone would start paying attention, someone would<em>know.</em>They were going to ruin<em>everything.</em>He suddenly realized that he'd squeezed his tableware hard enough to deform the handles of the knife and fork, they were now twisted, deeply indented where his fingers had wrapped around them.  He snarled slightly, disposed of them discreetly, grabbed a spare set from an unoccupied table.  He needed to calm down, before his guise slipped.<br/><br/>Graven tried to focus, finish his meal, and think.  He needed to know what was going on.  That meant doing exactly what he didn't want to do - dealing with other Demons.  It was safer than the alternative, though...any involved humans were as likely to be completely fucking wrong about what was going on as they were to have useful information, and exposing himself to them would only make the situation worse.  No.  He had to get ahold of one of his own kind, and get some news from back home out of them.  It left a bad taste in his mouth.  When the check came, there was a number written on it, and his waitress hurried away blushing.  He tried to smile, no point in wasting an opportunity.<br/><br/>He left a small pile of cash and walked off into the busy anonymity of the crowd.  Graven hated a lot of things, and one of them was indecision.  He didn't want to risk himself, and he knew it would be dangerous going in blind, not knowing what other demons might be around.  However, he didn't have any choice and there was no point in dithering.  Once dark fell, he'd be on the hunt again.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The hours after sundown found him in the worst parts of the city.  Redmond.  Occupying a rooftop on a long-dilapidated church, he crouched among the gargoyles and searched the world with inhuman senses.  Young people were shouting in the streets.  Not rioting yet, but sure as hell cutting off their other options.  A brick crashed through a window.  It was starting.  Somewhere around here would be another demon, feeding off the smorgasbord of psychic turmoil down there.  Probably the instigator of it.  The police might even know what they were looking for, by now.<br/><br/>It was probably going to be...tricky.