The Huntress

Grace loved the hunt, and a god was just as fun to kill as any lion or panther. Grace's sword was simple with designs of a hunter killing every mythical creature known to myth. But Grace had to hurry, for while a god may die, they never stay dead. She grabbed the corpse of the storm goddess and hurried to the river, she then dumped the body off the building, the storm goddess's eyes opening halfway to the water. As she made contact with the water the bull sharks brought here earlier tore her apart. Grace looked on with content, her pets loved a good meal.

But the storm goddess would not give up so easily, she summoned lightning to strike all three of them killing Grace, for a few moments and killing Grace's pets for good. The goddess then summoned winds to push herself to Dylan who wasn't lucky enough to die but instead wounded, wounds heal slower than death. She took a third knife from her leg strap and began to stab at Dylan. Grace pulled back her bow string and let four arrows fly, three hit their target pinning the storm goddess to the ground while the fourth lodged itself in the cobblestone flower pattern. Dylan grabbed the arrow lighting it with fire and started slashing at the goddess who was now stumbling with arrows in her legs and one of her arms. But reinforcements came, a military force with French flags emblazoned on their chests pointed their repeating guns at the three of them.

"Pitiful, they choose to hide behind weapons rather than face us as soldiers." Thought Grace, still she dropped her weapons.

In gray cement rooms each of them sat, or so Grace thought, she had been isolated for many years but she understood that if she was in a gray room then they would most likely be as well.

"They would be able to break down these walls without trying while I struggle with these restraints." She muttered, looking at herself in the mirror. Ash was caked on one side of her nose and on her eyebrows. Then the door opened and a man in medals and a navy blue uniform walked in and sat down on the other side of the metal table. His face was smooth and without a hint of hair except of his eyebrows, Grace guessed he was bald. His eyed hid behind a pair of shaded glasses, and his hands fiddled with a small stack of papers.

"So, you are?" He started but faded off, expecting her to finish. She new she shouldn't tell them anything, that she shouldn't even speak, so she didn't.

"Do you know that you were in the largest fire in Paris in over sixty years? And without any form of protection? And did you know that category five hurricane winds picked up out of no where and you and the two others in custody were struck buy lightning? And another thing, did you know the other lady who was present had faint marks of bites that matched up with the five dead bull sharks, but then a few minutes later no marks?" He was ranting at this point, trying to overwhelm her. But before he could continue a large explosion came from somewhere else in the facility. Grace hoped it was Dylan coming to collect her. A man was thrown from behind the mirror, shattering it's reflective surface and falling to the ground inside the gray room. Dylan didn't flinch when the man in the navy blue suit shot, nor when Grace took the gun and hit it against the mans neck, shattering it.