Arrival of The Dark Harbinger

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Cheyenne poured over the information she was viewing upon the computer monitor. Information pertaining to a new cult which had been quietly building for almost a year, gaining followers amongst a new generation of young, fresh, easily manipulated minds. To date, with what little information she and others of the Ranch had been able to glean, the oldest cult member had been no older than twenty three. This was not uncommon amongst evil deities in an effort to increase worshippers but this was different, this cult was different.

To the untrained eye, the symbols, sigils and markings were simple gibberish, making no sense in the least but to her, to those who were trained or knowledgeable about such things, such would know what they meant.
It was a warning. A warning from one of the Dark Ones known as Xanfaya; god of disease and death!

She clicks the mouse, advancing the page on the screen but her eyes fail to focus as pain sears through her body, muscles contracting so harshly, the mouse crunches and splinters within the grip of her hand. She is flung harshly from her seat, slamming into the wall behind her, breath forced from her in a loud gasp. Cheyenne crumples to the floor in a heap, her mind raging with words and pain.

“Death, violence unbeknownst,” screams a voice within her mind, “taken by a hand unknown.”

Another voice speaks with calm control and purpose, “See we must. Know we must. Look! LOOK!”

Cheyenne’s mind connects to the event which had taken place in the cave, but things are unclear, fuzzy, her thoughts unable to focus. She sees only bits and pieces, hears the screams of those dying, feels the pain which sears through the cultists bodies as they are struck down. These harsh deaths, the ablility to sense such things as a death watcher was how she first found this new cult but something about this was different, much, much different.

She vanishes in a thick, dark, billowy cloud, amidst the sound of a barely audible hissing sound, reappearing just outside the cave. But as the billowy, dark cloud vanishes, it is not the human form of Cheyenne that appears but a deep red skinned female demon standing seven feet in height. She hisses softly, taking an immediate defensive crouch, quickly scanning the area about her. Finding it clear, the most recent person being the one who attacked the cultists, now gone quite some time ago, she moves into the cave.

She tours cautiously throughout the cave, examining everything, scrutinizing all she saw and came across. She examined the bodies of the cultists, the wounds which would be unseen by normal eyes, could be seen by her but not in the normal fashion. A soft glow emanates from the wounds upon the cultists revealing to her that whoever had taken the initiative to slay these people was skilled in the use of weapons. Each cut, each slice, each stroke was placed with skill and precision to bring death quickly. Whoever it was, this person did not like cultists in the least as shown by the evidence of how the cult leader had died; violently a horribly by lightning bolt. But the sudden appearance of this person concerned her?

Who was he? What was his purpose? Was he working against the cultists or was he an opposing cult leader? Maybe he was freelancer, a merc, hired to exact revenge for a child lost to these cultists were but a few of the questions rolling about within her mind as she continued to search the area, eventually finding the spot where the children had been held. She could still feel the warmth of the children, the aroma of their innocence smelling like a field full of lilacs even though they had been taken some time ago. She smiles as she turns and makes her way back outside. The kids were gone, the cultists dead at the hands of what appears to be a new player in the game. She had retrieved any information she needed from within, now it was time to check outside.

She remembers the first day she had experienced the smell of lilacs, her mind’s way of interpreting the innocence of children or those of good heart. Just over four years ago she had awakened to the smell of lilacs, to find her six younger siblings standing about her bed, somehow, her mind associated the smell of lilacs to her siblings and the innocence of a child. She was then informed that she had been unconscious for nearly a week. Had been visited by both a modern doctor and the tribal medicine man both stating that something very odd had happened to Cheyenne. The modern doctor wanted her to come in for further investigation and to consult with a specialist he knew while the medicine man made a visit the day before she awoke. What her siblings informed her of, followed by her parents, she somehow, already knew. She had become possessed of two spirits. She had not looked back since.

She scours the grounds outside the cave, eventually finding the single tracks of a motorcycle along with the tracks of a four wheeled vehicle. This cave occupied the grounds of Mercy Park, one of many parks within the massive Reflex Mega City but near the outskirts, where residential family homes were still built. Thus, it made this park far less busy than those located deeper within the inner city and being that there was cave with a few passage ways put it deeper within Mercy Park and within a restricted area. In other words, only park maintenance vehicles made it to this part of the park which made the current sets of tracks she found all the more distinguishable.

She also found a couple boot prints mixed in amongst the light traffic of the cultists but unlike their prints, these booted prints were deeply indented indicating a much heavier walk. Where the vehicle stopped was a bit further from the cave but gathered in area she could see the prints of a number of small feet to which she could safely assume the children boarded the vehicle here and were then taken. To where, she was not sure, but she had this gut instinct they were taken to a local police station of which could be verified soon enough.
She took one more, good, long look around just to double check things and once satisfied, she taps her wrist communicator thankful that she had arrived at this site when she did. With the massive structures of the city’s core reaching up to over two hundred and fifty stories, it was like its own horizon bringing dusk a bit earlier than normal to the east side of the city. She worked best from dusk on.

“Yeah, base? Cheyenne here.”

“Go ahead, Chey and its good to hear you’re alright. The way you left here,” responds a concerned voice.

“I know! Sorry about that but it was nuts. I was completely overwhelmed with a powerful sensation,” she says, then changes the subject. “I need a crew out here. Standard cultist group clean up. We can’t let the authorities know of this yet.”

“Roger that. Crew will be dispatched in ten minutes. I also tracked you the moment I noticed you were gone, so I know the location.”

“Good job, kid. Wait to pick up the ball.”

“Chey,” the voice on the other end whines.

“Good job, Sara,” Cheyenne chuckles.

“Thanks,” Sara responds cheerfully hearing her name instead of “kid.”

“Check all channels too. I need to know if a number of children were brought in to the local police station.”

“How many children?” asks Sara.

“It could have been five or maybe six. Check for six and see what comes up. As far as I can tell there were six. It wouldn’t be the first time that the scent of lilac has been wrong.”

“Understood, Cheyenne.”

“And let the others know that we need a sit down meet. We may have a problem.”
Sara answers tersely, “What?”

“I’ll not speculate over an open channel. We’ll discuss it upon my return Cheyenne out,” she says with finality, the communicator clicking off.

Cheyenne looks about, her face contorting, grimacing in pain as a pair of wings slowly grow upon her back. She grunts, pushing the agony aside as though it were nothing more than a minor, irritating sting from a bee, biting down gently upon her bottom lip until the wings are fully formed. She flaps them a few times, stretching them out then with one massive leap, she takes to the skies pausing a few hundred feet above the ground facing the city. It never ceased to amaze her to take her breath away watching the sun set before the city. At this height, one could see the light bouncing from one building to the next, light reflecting from polished glass and steel, giving the high rise mega city the appearance of a glittering gem varying in color according to the sunset. Today, the sky had a purple hue to it causing Cheyenne a to take a few moments to enjoy the sight.
Soon enough, she is on her way, to make her report back at the Ranch but first, she had to make s top. To meet someone who wasn’t so much part of the Ranch as she was a very good friend to many within it. She needed someone who had eyes and ears in places about the city that folks at the Ranch did not. She needed a thief and that thief was Sonawail.

Captain Samuel Barrenson arrives at Precinct 122 notices five children being led into the station raising his curiosity as he parks a short distance away. As he exits his anti-grav vehicle, his trained eye notices a wheeled SUV, still running, sitting much farther down the street and what appears to be a woman sitting within watching as the children enter the station. He is very curious now, stepping around his vehicle with the intent of approaching the SUV. But he is too late for as the last child enters the precinct, the SUV rapidly pulls away. He hustles in an attempt to at least catch a view of the plate but any chance of that vanishes as another vehicle moves down the street blocking his view.

He purses his lip in disappointment for not being able catch the plate, giving a simple shrug as he stands there watching the SUV turn a corner and vanish. He pulls a small flask from inside his long, leather coat, pops the lid then takes a quick slug of the contents within. He grimaces slightly, shakes his head as the whiskey burns its way down his throat, giving him a warm, comforting feeling as it enters his stomach. He pops the cap back on, sliding the small flask back to the inside of his coat as he crosses the street. He pulls upon the handle to one of the doors allowing him entry into the dark, heavy plate glassed building, vanishing within.

Upon his entry, he is greeted by the usual daily activity of people, loud noises and sounds attributed to a busy police station that lacked the resources to properly police an area three times their normal area. It was something they had become accustomed to in the process of waiting for an increase in financial support that would come, but more like a trickle from a damned up massive river. They did what they could with what they had and in his opinion, the men and women of Precinct 122 were doing a bang up job.

He makes his way across the large, busy room towards the elevators,he responds to those who greet him with smiles,nods, and a few quick words of greetings. He presses the up button taking a relaxed stance as he waits for the elevator to respond. The door opens with its usual soft chime and is about to step in when a firm, strong grip takes hold of his wrist. He turns to find Detective Sarah Reemes smiling at him. He glances down at her hand.

"Does this mean that we're an item now," he jokes.

"Only in your dreams, Samuel" she smirks back, taking her hand from his wrist. "It appears we have a breakthrough and on the same hand, more of a mystery."

His mind flashes back to seeing the children entering the station a very short while ago. Years of training and instinct told him that's what she was about to tell him, but wisdom kept his tongue silent. He simply nods.

"Shall we," she gestures down the hall. "I'd rather not talk about it here."

Samuel follows her down the hall, passing a few interrogation doors along the way stopping just outside the fifth door down. Sarah tuns the door knob, stepping in as she opens the door, he following after her stopping dead in his tracks upon entering the room. He is greeted by the tired eyed, worn look of five young children, each face flashing within his mind as the children abducted over two weeks ago. He feels a sense of elation curling the corner of his mouth but its quickly tempered by the unanswered facts of who had them and how did they get here. He looks towards Sarah.

"You can put your eyeballs back," she smiles. "After a quick, cursory check, they appear fine, tired, worn out and scared, but fine," she adds, nodding to two other offices standing near the children. "I think its important that we question them, but I figured it would be better if we contacted their parents and let them go home."

Samuel nods his approval, the two officers leaving to begin contacting parents who would be relieved and happy to know their children were alive and well. He steps out of the way as the two officers leave the room.

"Have they said anything?"

"Not much. The only one who really said anything was young Maria," she nods to a red headed, seven year old girl, "and all she said was that there was another child. Nothing other than that and the fact they want to go home."

Samuel thinks for a moment, his mind a myriad of thoughts, unanswered questions mixing with his own emotions and feelings of how inadequate he felt at this moment. They had made no headway in the case of this new cult, having shown up some time ago then making themselves scarce. Rumor had it that this cult was the one involved with all the recent kidnappings, not of just children, but of any age group with the big mystery being, no common thread. He was not used to running into dead ends. Not one bit.

"Let the children go home," he finally speaks, "I doubt we're going to get anything new from these children. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

A moment of surprise crosses her face. "But, you just arrived. You have things that need dealing with," she asks, suddenly curious.

"I know," he shrugs, "But I need information on this case and there are only a handful of people on this planet that can help me with anything that is or appears supernatural and one of them lives nearby."

Sarah holds her tongue as the other two officers escort the children out to another room to await the arrival of their parents. These two officers also knew Samuel and Sarah well and didn't want the children listening to what could be spoken. Sarah closes the door once they leave.

A dark look of anger clouds her eyes as she turns to face Samuel, placing her hands upon her hips, standing in a challenging manner before him. "You're not contacting that demon sorceress again are you?" she says in a soft growl.

"Don't even go there, Sarah. I mean it," he snaps back, his face reddening in anger. "It was because of her abilities which gave us the final push in bringing about the capture of the Peace Park serial rapist. I also recall you not saying much when she indirectly assisted you in bringing down the Yellow Dragon drug ring. Just piss off and leave her alone."

For a brief moment, she stares daggers at him. She didn't like nor approve of her captain turning to meta beings for assistance no matter the need or reason. Everyone knew her stance about meta beings, knew her opinion and though she may, on occasion, give a little lee way, she would prefer that meta beings left, find another home on some distant planet. As far as she was concerned, meta beings were more of a detriment and threat to society as a whole.

"But I still don't think...." her words are cut off by his waggling finger, the look in his eyes warning her not to test the limits of their friendship. Her face wrinkles in anger, blushing deep red as she relents.

He shakes his head, stepping next to her. "You're a damned good officer and one hell of a friend, Sarah but please don't push me on this. I have a horrible gut feeling that this situation is, I mean will get worse and if we don't push hard to end it now," he looks her square in the eyes, "I feel that much blood will be spilled. Do you wish that on your conscience?"

She slowly shakes her head, the pent up anger slowly leaves her body in one long sigh. "You're right and I should know by now that you are rarely ever wrong about your gut instincts. Its just!"

There friendship was close enough that he could afford to kiss her upon the side of her head without it being construed as anything else. "I know, Sarah. I know how you feel and thus the reason I have cut down on seeking assistance from Cheyenne but in this case. We've had nothing since this cult showed up almost a year ago. Popping into existence then fading away like the boogey man."

Neither say anything for a few minutes, both knowing his words to be true, both lost in their thoughts until he finally speaks up.

"I'll see you later, Sarah. I have to do this, I have to ask for her help," he says but in a manner respecting her thoughts. He moves to the door, glancing back as his hand reaches down to the door handle.

"I know, Samuel and I understand," she says, looking back to him. A smile curls the corner of her lip as she catches the look in his eyes, speaking his mind before he finds the words. "I'll also let the parents know that we will be by in a few days to talk to their children."

With his thoughts coming from her mouth, he smiles, turns the handle and exits the room, leaving Sarah to her own thoughts. He knew she would be fine, that they often clashed over this meta being situation but unlike her, he believed with all his heart, without them, the ones who aided society, willingly put their lives on the line daily to help all around them against whatever evil or villainy arose. He didn't like the sabre rattling going on within the White House or any government building around the world in regards to metas.

He pushes open the dark, heavy plated glass doors of the precinct, stepping out front. He pauses for a moment, pulling his small metal flask from inside his leather coat. With a twist of the lid, a quick flip of the hand, a swallow of whiskey slides down his throat, warming his stomach. He lids the flask, stuffing it back inside his leather long coat moving down the street to his vehicle. He had thought about using the magical device to contact Cheyenne, but opted for another option. He knew, had a gut instinct that she had no leads either and having known the Cherokee woman for many years,he knew she would be seeking the aid of someone else. A person who had her ears and hands on the heart of Reflex Mega City.

He pulls the door of his vehicle open, slides inside then shuts it. He presses his thumb against a thumb sized, glowing blue button. The button dimly flashes, the anti-grave vehicle starting up immediately. He pulls a small handle back, his vehicle slowly rising into the night sky.

On a night like this, he knew exactly where he would find Sonawail! He turns the car and streaks off in the direction of Reflex's US downtown core.

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Xanfaya gazes into the reflecting glass, allowing him to silently observe Gideon within his own home. Oddly, Xanfaya finds himself amused by this turn of events, mentally measuring this man Gideon, one who calls himself the "Dark Saviour!" and claiming to be supernatural in origin. What Gideon was not telling Aaliyah at this moment, what Xanfaya knew, was the Dark Savior's immortal roots, Xanfaya was just a bit surprised it had taken Gideon or anyone of his kind this long to find this new cult.

Earlier tonight, Gideon had broken up one of Xanfaya's cult rings, rescuing five children along with Aaliyah's son who was now holding tightly to his mother as she and Gideon talk. The fact that Gideon came away with nothing more than rescuing the children amused Xanfaya ever further causing a small chuckle to escape his mouth. He knew Gideon would find nothing and unless he knew where to look, or knew a certain person he could talk to, any future cult activities interrupted by Gideon would net him nothing, gain him no knowledge. That was pretty much what Cheyenne Savage had found even though she had investigated the situation and location and the police, the police were absolutely clueless.

"This should prove to be very amusing," he mutters to himself. "I wonder how long it will take for anyone to figure this out?"

He doesn't hear the door to the chamber quietly close nor does her hear the soft steps of a woman moving closer to him until it is too late. He spins on his heels coming to face a beautiful woman, with dark colored hair gazing at him with innocent guile and a crooked wry smile.

"How dare you enter unannounced," he growls angrily, having quickly recovered his composure. "Maybe a few days in the dark chamber will teach you some proper etiquette."

"Has it ever worked in the past?" she counters, her voice silky and uncaring.

He glares at her, barely able to control his anger. This was the third time in as many weeks she has managed to sneak up on him adding to an already growing hatred for her.

"Take caution,Khismet for you test my patience," he admonishes, his being becoming dark and threatening.

Despite her distaste and dislike for him, she heeded his words, taking a step back, lowering her eyes. Silently she berates herself for over stepping her boundaries then does so again for so easily backing off. Once, she had been the goddess of luck, chance and destiny. Once, she had been a goddess of light but that was ancient history. A one hundred thousand year war between the gods of light and gods of darkness had wreaked death and destruction across the universe until the eventual defeat of her and her fellow gods of light. Here she was now, subservient to the whims and wishes of the Dark god by whom she was defeated, her destiny, ironically, now in his hands.

Xanfaya's smile is cold and calculating as he gazes upon Khismet, a dark humor settling within the corner of his mind over the torment he sees and senses within her as she heeds his warning. There was no love lost between them but she had her uses.

"Good! Good! At least you know your place," he says, his words edged cold as ice and humorless, "Now leave me be as I have things to do," he adds, her silent anger to his obvious insult giving him a sense of pleasure.

She doesn't move! "I know what you're doing. I know what you're up to, Xanfaya," she spits out in defiance. "You go against his wishes and you know....." her words are choked off as a cold, uncaring hand tightly grips her throat. She struggles to no avail.

His face moves within a few inches of her, his look, his stench, his touch causes Khismet's heart to recoil, herself to gag and her soul to cringe in terror. His touch was death, his breath,his body covered in boils, cancerous tumors, blisters and sores. He was the god of death and disease but to Khismet, he was disgusting!

"You know nothing," he snaps, "nothing at all and you would be well advised to remain silent on what you think you know," he adds, his words filled with unspoken threats of violence and pain. His bony like hand tightens the grip about her throat

"Do we have an understanding?" he hisses.

She can't answer but if she could, she would spit in his face, challenge him, push him over the edge so that he would end her life. She was tired and cared little these days. Living for a hundred million years under this vile creatures rule had left her cold and empty, yet oddly enough, the urge to live forced her to plod on. She ceases her struggle, her body becoming limp within his taloned grip, giving a slight nod of agreement.

He releases her, his dark smile sending a shiver down her spine as she staggers back, gagging, coughing while trying to gain her breath. She hated him but she also hated herself for allowing herself to be controlled and manipulated by him. She knew that no matter how harshly or how cruel he treated her, that her desire to live overwhelmed everything else, even her own self loathing.

"You will remember well your place, Khismet, else next time you cross me like this, you will not see the next light of day. I will kill you and cast you from the Sacellum of Chaos, never to be remembered," he says, the cold exhorting words biting deeply into Khismet.

Her fight leaves with a simple sigh, her shoulders slouch in defeat, turning her anger inward, towards herself. She was once a goddess of light who ruled with benevolence and care but now, she was nothing more than a lackey, a puppet dancing about doing her puppeteer's bidding. She wanted out but death was not what she wanted. All she knew was that there had to be a way. For a moment, her thoughts revealed nothing but then, an idea began to form.

Xanfaya, assured that Khismet had been put into her place, returned to his work, setting about his plan, putting into motion his little program and with Gideon as a new entrant into the situation, he was looking forward to how this little game would play out.

With a simple thought, the game continues on as a seven year old male child, an eighteen year old young women and a forty year old man are snatched from their homes during the middle of the night.

"They'll never figure this out," Xanfaya chuckles, watching the kidnappings taking place by those who were zealots to his way, in his reflecting mirror. "Let the game begin!"

His cold, chilling laughter echos about the chamber sending another shiver up Khismet's spine prompting her to leave. She does so as quietly as she had entered, Xanfaya oblivious to her exit. She runs down the long hall saddened and angry at her own self loathing. She needed time to calm down, time to think and maybe, just maybe she could change the course of her destiny and that of the people of Earth with the idea forming within her thoughts. But if that failed, at least, maybe, she could find the courage to face her death with dignity and honor.

Sonawail perched near the edge of the roof of the tallest building in Reflex Mega City, her eyes closed, leaning into the cool night wind. Up here, at two hundred and fifty stories above the pavement, the wind was strong enough for her to lean her two hundred pound plus, tigress body into the wind and not worry about falling. She loved being here, being this high up, enjoyed the solitude which the roof of Reflex City Center One offered her. Up here, the winds were strong with powerful gusts reaching upwards of seventy miles per hour plus which meant only the most daring, or foolhardy would risk being up here. The most daring were usually the maintenance workers who, when they needed to be here, did so with specialized equipment. The foolhardy were those who managed to find their way to the top simply for the thrill of being this high up while others used this as a free base jumping opportunity. Sadly, of the twenty three people who had done such a thing since this building and her sister building across Peace River were completed in 1942, only two had survived their folly. The others had not been prepared, nor expected the high gusts of winds which had swept them over the edge to their deaths.

Sonawail glances to her left, her ears perking forward, her eyes opening partly as she tunes into a small jet passing by not more than one hundred feet over and up. By the tone of the engines and the barely audible click of its landing gear locking into the down position, she knew the aircraft was in its final approach to Tara Insen International airport. On that thought, she takes a moment to honor the memory of Tara Insen, a young army Sgt. who had become a hero during the horrid battle in 1940 which had leveled the cities of Windsor and Detroit. Sonawail also took an extra few moments to remember all those who had given, lost and sacrificed their lives during the fateful day, a fact which she never forgot. She had not been there herself, but she was a believer that one should always remember the sacrifices made by those in the past to defend and protect the future.

Her thoughts are interrupted, her ears twitching back, a small, quirky smile turning up one corner of her mouth. Cheyenne was good, damned good at moving about silently when she chose to do so, but by the sound of the native woman's step, the slight rustle of her second step informed Sonawail that her friend was not trying to be stealthy. The magic which had bound the tigeress to her human form had also heightened her senses to extraordinary proportions and at this moment, she could almost hear and feel the confusion and slight tension within Cheyenne. As always, whenever she felt such things, it was a natural reaction for her own tail to start twitching but that was the extent of what she showed when reacting to such emotions. She waited quietly, her eyes now open, till Cheyenne stepped within a few feet of her.

"I sense something vexes you, Cheyenne," Sonawail says, her eyes shining slightly in the shadowed light as she glances over her shoulder.

Cheyenne jumps suddenly! Having been so enraptured with her thoughts, Sonawail suddenly speaking had taken her totally by surprise.

"Holy, wow! You scared the crap out of me, Sona," Cheyenne replies, her breathing a bit heavy, her heart racing.

Sona chuckles for a moment, eyeing her friend with some concern. Sonawail knew from experience that it was almost impossible to take Cheyenne by surprise, even when she was deep in thought. Whatever was on her mind had to be big enough and important enough for her to be frightened with such ease.

"Take a few moments to regain some composure, Chey," Sonawail suggests, now turning to face the native woman. "Whatever is on your mind can wait a few minutes longer."

Cheyenne gives a simple nod, taking the offered advice of her friend. She walks about for a few moments, her breathing slowly returning to normal, her heart regaining a steady beat.

"Another cult cell leader was killed tonight," she says, turning to face Sonawail, "and all the children were found and are safe but again, I found nothing. Nothing!"

Sonawail could sense the anger and frustration within that last spoken word and knew that an unsuccessful year of searching for the origins of this new cult was testing the depths of Cheyenne's knowledge and patience. So far there had been no casualties from sacrifices but both knew it was only a matter of time before the first innocent death happened.

"Relax, Chey, please! I can almost feel the distress within you," Sonawail says. "Winding yourself up will avail you not and will solve nothing."

Cheyenne snaps a look towards her friend, frustration turning to anger which flares within her eyes at what she perceives to be indifference within her friend's words. But when she looks into Sonawail's eyes, she sees only concern and care. The anger abates quickly! Cheyenne knew better of her friend.

"I'm sorry, Sona. I didn't mean to," Cheyenne begins.

Sonawail brushes it off with a casual wave of her right hand. "Think nothing of it, Cheyenne but please tell me what bothers you."

Cheyenne stands with clenched fist, watching the late morning news, late breaking from what she could tell. Right now, Bob Saislin, anchorman of Reflex Mega News, is talking about another kidnapping, a young seven year old boy being taken from his home in the middle of the night. Moments later, he turns it over to an on sight reporter, a young woman by the name of Sissy Lambertson.

Cheyenne listens quietly, anger building within her as Sissy explains all the details Cheyenne already knows from all the other kidnappings. No forceful entrance, a clean snatch, the mother waking on instinct to find her child gone. No fingerprints, nothing. Like a ghost, the perp had entered the house and then vanished with the child. Cheyenne was becoming more than frustrated but now with her friend Sonawail prowling the streets and along with her other friend, Captain Samuel of Precinct 122, her chances of cracking this new cult had improved.

Cheyenne shuts the television off with the remote, knowing that she would hear about at least two more kidnappings, but silently hoping and wishing she was wrong. Whatever this new cult was, they never snatched any less than two or three victims. Her other curiosity was the new player in the game, the one who save the children a couple nights ago. Who was he? Where did he come from, were but a few of the many thoughts of this whole situation which rolled around within her mind. Whoever it was, she hoped, even felt that this new player could be an ally but the only way to find out, was to case the victim's homes. It was a long shot, but if this person was a hunter, he'd check the homes out.

She pauses for a moment, tossing Sarah a quick look who was on the communication system, listening intently to something. Sarah's face tightens as she turns to Cheyenne.

"It appears that there was also two other kidnappings," she sighs. "An eighteen year old women and a forty year old man. The same situation as the young boy."

Cheyenne growls lightly but keeps herself under control simply nodding as she turns, heading towards a base teleport. Sarah nods and wishes her luck. Cheyenne steps through the teleport appearing over a hundred feet above the Ranch. With a natural thought, her flight kicks in and she streaks off towards Reflex Mega City.

She had three destinations and each of them within an eight block area; 1331 Orchid Avenue, 1245, Unit 68 Peach Street and 1087 Barrinton Crescent. The boy, the teen and the older fellow. She contacted Sonawail via her wristcomm, informing her friend of the situation. The person who stymied the last cult hideout was sure to visit one of these places and if her gut instinct was right and he was a hunter, he would. Well, she hoped he would, she just had a funny feeling.

Little did she know that not long after leaving, a situation erupted on the Ranch.


OOC: There ya go, Gideon. Three destinations with two possible places for a confrontation. I'll not tell you where the two will be but I'll be fair...hehe So yes, you hear and see or hear about the late morning one, finding out about the other two not more than fifteen minutes later.

OOC: This story line is no longer viable. I'll readjust and deal with it as a background story.