Night out in Chicargo

[August Winter]

Midnight. August spotted his target on the street below. He knew alot about this guy. Where he slept, his habits, what he was. And most importantly, that he'd PO'ed someone enough for them to want to make a point. He lined him up in the cross hairs.

Blood and brains sprayed from the mans head. It probably would kill him permanently, but it would lay him low for a while. August didn't wait to see if he got back up again. He left the area as quickly as possible, leaving only the note he was instructed to.

"Masquerade that."

Two in the morning. August sat in a corner of one of the cities many nightclubs, watching the crowd and waiting to see if anyone caught his eye.

[Ezra Khaine]

Ezra Khaine, a sober black clad figure, stood at the bar, leaning his side against the hardwood counter with a glass of clear liquid, with ice of course, in one hand and the other stroking the chin of a pale beauty of a woman that stood in front of him, also leaning against the bar. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, mixing the effects of persuasion with the mind numbing effects of alcohol. The result was a semi-drunk woman who firmly believed that he was in love with her. He'd feed well tonight, or rather this morning. The clock on the wall read two, and the lack of sunlight steaming through the windows indicated it was was Two A.M..

He sipped his drink and smiled at the woman, she returned the smile. A few more words were shared, a key was slipped into his pocket, and the woman gatheered her things and left the building, staggering a bit under the heavy burden of Alcohol. Ezra turned away from the door and sat down on the barstood beside him and drained his glass, slapping it down on the bartop to get the tender's attention, "Your finest bourbon," was his order and the tender went off to dig through his bottles.

Ezra looked around the room, his dark eyes eventually landing on August Winter. He had no idea who the man was, so he threw him a glare just to be on the safe side.