The Foundation

Kyler watched as the daemon was brutally torn into by the woman in the black tank top. She had short brown hair and dark green eyes, with a well-built physique, which added to her figure. She crushed the core of the daemon and threw its carcass away, turning to Kyler with a smile.

"Is it your usual character to let others kill the daemon for you." She asked him.

"Work smart, not hard."

"That's not a nice thing to say. I'm a lady, you know."

"Well," Kyler looked at the dissolving daemon, "tell that to him,"

Sharon Eagon, one of Kyler's closest accomplices. She was way older than him, probably in her early forties, which made her one of the oldest inquisitors as well. She was a walking powerhouse, having had many years to control her licht energy. Plus her licht technique was not one to be looked down on.

"What brings you to USA?" Kyler asked her, "Shouldn't you be with Damien or Ernst. Or back at HQ training more recruits??"

"I'm not some baby sitter, Kyler. I just wanted a break."

"You take breaks in the Netherlands."

"I had a change of heart."

She was trying to get away. Kyler knew that all too well. In her case, it wasn't permanent, more like a day or two away from all the gore and depression before stepping back into action. At least, she wasn't like the others, who left and never came back, gone off to live their own lives.

Cowards.

"Anyway... I heard about Barry and Aaron."

"Yeah, don't sweat it. Happens all the time."

"Doesn't make it any better."

"Sharon. You know me. I can handle it."

"If you say so," She said, stretching. She let out a sigh of relief before turning to him. "I'm going back home. If you need me, which you don't, you know my number."

"Can't I come with you?"

"Hell no. I don't want my perfect hiding spot to be ruined."

Elsewhere, someplace in Boston, a van came to a halt in front of an old warehouse. A man with an unkempt beard and worn out clothes stepped out, muttering to himself about some guy who had annoyed him on his way. Gosh he was getting to old for this. He walked up to side door and opened it, looking at the stuff inside. He turned to the warehouse, spotting tthe right guy he was looking for.

"Oi, Jeff, get your ass here."

"Old man Hands." Jeff said, getting up from the barrel he sat on, "Sup."

"Sup my ass. Help me with the boxes."

"How many of them?"

"Just two."

"Damn," The two men grunted as they lifted up one of them, then dropped it in front of the warehouse, doing the same with the other.

"By the time I'm done with this business, I'll be fit to get in the ring."

"The only ring you'll be getting in is jail."

"Haha...you wish." Jeff closed the side door and the two men walked side by side to the gate. Opening it, they pushed the boxes inside, before closing it.

The warehouse wasn't as abandoned as the general public was made to believe. A few men sat around, armed with guns, talking amongst themselves. Most of them were from the streets, with nowhere to go and nothing to lose, doing anything they could do for the next day's meal. Others were mercenaries from afar. But to the eyes of the public, they were all the same. Scum.

The woman at the far end however was dressed in that manner. With a slick office dress that captured her feline features, she was star of all the guys in the room, and the envy of all the women. She wasn't all that pretty, with her black hair and brown eyes, but they were still captivating. The aura around her too was one that portrayed her unwavering loyalty to the man beside her.

"Hands, welcome back." Grace said, as she turned to look at him, "i hope all things went well."

"Well? Well well isn't what I'd say. But lets put that in the well for now."

The man beside her giggled a little. The woman rolled her eyes turned back to the screen.

The screen displayed the image of a sewer with six canister all wired up to something beyond the feed of the CCTV cameras. Two of them were empty.

"So," Jeff began, "When is the next stage?"

"The next stage?" The man beside the woman turned to Jeff, "Dude, we haven't even done the first stage yet."

"Huh?"

"Thought the whole thing we did days back was the first stage." Hands stated.

"Yes," the woman replied, "But the inquisitors got in the way. Plus the daemon rushing in was not the plan. We were targeting the Shield recruits, not the inquisitors."

"Well congratulations," Jeff said, "Now we have dead inquisitors on our heads."

"Yeah." The man said coldly, "That is their job after all."

"So, what now?" Hands asked.

"Our informants have told us that the half-breed added the effect we hoped for. They are now red alert as we speak. We have their attention."

"So that's good, when is the next move?"

"Patience, Jeff," The man said, "All in good time." The man looked at the screen with a smile, "All in good time