With the sudden outbreak of chaos Nitesprite dropped her glass of whiskey then she quickly upturned and ducked behind the nearest table. Her gun suddenly in her hand she peeked out from behind the table. Everyone had heard the shots and seen the Godmother fall her hand covering a wound seeping with blood.  Only a handful were looking in the direction where the shots came from. Uncle had been expanding her education with distance marksmanship, she had excelled enough at the lessons to know this was a sniper. Getting a sense of urgency as the evening sun glinted through the window she moved to it staying away from direct view of it. If was a sniper as she thought it was better to stay low and out of line from open windows. As she peeked out side she saw the glint of glass from a window across the street. Could this be the shooter?

 She only found two others from Los Angeles not preoccupied with the Godmother or some other issue that ensued from the shooting. The Right-hand man of The Saiyan Army and The Left-hand woman of the Skinwalkers. She approached them hearing they were in mid conversation she waited, it would not be appropriate no matter the situation for her to break rank and interrupt the two hands.  Finding the pause in their conversation she needed she interrupted. “Excuse me, but I have some important information about the shooter. I do believe he is in that building.”  She lifts her hand and points to the building across the street their gazes almost involuntarily follow where she is pointing.   “I am not sure what else we need to do, but I am going after the shooter and see if I can get some answers.” That was her favorite skill to practice, the art of information extraction. She left the two leaving them to whatever Hand tasks they had in this chaos. The sun hit the edge of the horizon just as she bolted out the door and across the street.

     Vision was difficult at the twilight time of day with shadows and lights playing of the various surfaces that surrounded her.  She entered the building as quietly as possible her gun at the ready reminding her self this is not a kill shot, just going to shoot to maim. She hears a couple  scuffs upstairs, keeping her gun at the ready in front of her and focusing her sight in the light she proceeds up the steps. Nitesprite winces at the sound of the step creaking as she steps on it. Pauses and holds her breath as she momentarily listens. She is going to have to be extra cautious now as she hears hushed tones upstairs. There must be two she thought as she started to inch her way back up the staircase.  Going through different scenarios in her head as she approaches the top of the stairs. There is a closed door immediately to her left and to her right is an open hallway with three doors two closed and one opened. AS she approaches the top of the stairs she tries the doorknob of the closed door. Finding it locked she assumes it must be an office or something. Then proceeds down the hall slinking in a crouching position.  A large man lunges out at her with a knife the lunge catches her by surprise making her topple with his weight losing her grip on her gun. Instant frustration at the loss of her weapon she changes strategies grabs the boot knife that Wilfred had carved for her a couple years ago and slit the guys throat in their struggle. “Plan B works every time.” She gloated to herself as she slid the blade comfortably home. She pushed herself up from the ground and located her gun. “Shit I hope there was a second one. We need information.”

     Nitesprite continues down the hall and into the first room with a closed door. Finding nothing she retreats to the next room in her search. Getting disheartened that she was not finding the other culprit she felt certain was in here. She suddenly hears a familiar creak of the stairs rushing out of the room she finds the other person sneaking down the stairs. Without thinking Nitesprite lunges through the air crashing into the shooter and making them both tumble down the stairwell.   The shooters body under hers softened her landing, while the sudden weight and toppling down the stairs had knocked him out.

     Hours later he wakes bound to a chair in a warehouse. His bare feet soaking in a metal tub of water, gagged and hands bound to the arms of the chair he was strapped into. His eyes widened, and he starts mumbling through his gag as his vision followed the string of bare wires that went from the bucket his naked feet were soaking in to a large electric switch on the wall.  Nitesprite is standing near the switch her hand poised to push it up and give him a little juice. Her voice almost childlike she speaks to her captive,” I see you are awake and ready to play 20 questions?” She laughed enjoying the look of fear in his eyes as she flipped the switch and gave him a small taste of the shockingly fun -time they would have. After about an hour of power surges in the warehouse Nitesprite had found out that the would-be sniper was from Delaware. She hastily returned to the two hands to report what she had discovered. She would take of her plaything later, he was safe in the family warehouse for now.

Meko liked to stick to the walls in places like this. It felt safer, somehow. If she was pressing into them, then it felt less like the walls were closing in on her. It made her feel more the predator than the prey. And that was saying nothing of the growing, cheering, undulating crowd that filled the small space to near bursting. The idea of so many people so close made her nervous. As her eyes darted about the overcrowded room, Meko thought softly to herself, "THIS is a bad idea."  There were too many bodies. They blocked her line of sight to all but the nearest door. It was cramped and unnatural. There were no eyes on the doors, no way to monitor the crowd that grew uncontrolled like bacteria in a petri dish.

"I don't like this," her whisper echoed out to wherever Elyan found himself in the room. "There's no room for egress, no clear route should shit hit the..." 

Meko yelped like a dog hit with a newspaper as she instinctively ducked and covered. For a split second, everyone scattered like a thousand tiny ants. Then, in an almost singular wave, the crowd merged back together, pressing in on Hope's position like The Blob. "Hive mind," Meko noted almost comically under her breath, the thought dripping with a detached, loathsome sarcasm. As the full weight of the situation crashed through each person individually, Meko watched in slow motion as the realization dawned across their faces and wondered if her own expression looked equally dumb-stricken. 

The ringing in her ears nearly made her eyes cross. Gun's in closed spaces... she thought she'd never get used to it. Through the ringing, she was able to make out a few muffled shouts: She's hit! Hope's down! PRESSURE!

The entire scene was chaos. The ensuing panic washed over her like the stench of rotten meat in the summer sun. It was almost worse than sonorous throbbing in her ears. The communal pheromones of every mobster in LA comingling into a crushing torrent of dread, panic, rage, and adrenaline that made her stomach lurch and wretch in silent protest. Everyone in bar reeked of it... everyone except one woman. 

She was like a lighthouse standing tall and unshakable along a tempest-tossed shore. Calm and self-assured even amidst the battering devastation of gale-force winds of alarm and hysteria, she was like a bubble of fresh air floating on the cool night breeze as she moved, nearly unnoticed, passed Shomecosse's huddled form and slipped out the door. The door clicked closed behind her just as the oddity of her clarity clicked in Meko's mind. There was only ONE reason anyone would be so cool and collected in a situation like this. In a flash of understanding, Meko darted for the door, ready to pursue and pounce.

Apparently, she was not the only person with such motivations. Just outside she was met by two others... a man she thought she'd heard Elyan call "Carter" and a young woman she was unfamiliar with. They both seemed to want to discuss tactics and agonize over strategy. All Meko wanted to do was run... it was in her nature. She blinked and followed Nitesprite as she pointed, wondering why the woman was still talking rather than taking action. With a curt nod, Meko watched as the woman trotted off to 'see if she could get some answers'... "Not a bad idea," Meko thought to herself. "Good. Go," was all she said aloud, "I'm going after the bitch from the bar." Stepping away from them both, Meko nodded at EC3 as she barreled past him, calling over her shoulder, "Meet back here in one hour to regroup!" If they hadn't completed their respective missions in that time, the shooter(s?) would undoubtedly be well away and finding them would no doubt require a much more organized tactical force.

Rounding the corner, Meko paused for a brief second. Steadying herself against the cool, damp brick of the alleyway, Meko rested her head back and inhaled deeply. There was a light breeze coming off the coast and the woman's scent was tauntingly obscure as the lightly salted air danced eddied passed the bar. They were upwind. That would certainly be a cumbersome disadvantage. Closing her eyes, Meko allowed her senses to spread and seep out over the unusually still city, stretching and straining as far as they possibly could. The bar was still a faint hum of cacophonic chaos. From across the block, she could hear the shuffle of a struggle. Clearly, the woman from before was more than earning stripes tonight. Faintly, she thought she heard a distant, muffled rumbling echoing from a few streets down the alley. 

The breeze broke for just a moment - a split second lull - as if the Earth itself held its breath in tense anticipation. In the stillness, the faint scent of the stranger's perfume hung in the air like a path of rose petals crushed beneath the feet of an approaching bride; rose and jasmine with a hint of neroli, leading back toward the building where Nite was fighting. Unsheathing the hunting knife, she kept tucked beneath her shirt at the small of her back, Meko crept across the street and down the alley keeping a watchful eye peeled for her prey. Ely had, of course, purchased a small firearm for her - a .380 automatic colt that remained strapped to her ankle - but, with her history, Meko preferred the accuracy, control, and versatility of a knife. 

The hair along the back of Meko's neck stood on end as she stalked the dark alley that led around the back of the building. Heel-toe, heel-toe... crouched and low... tucked into the shadows of the building; just like her ancestors had taught. The rumbling and rummaging grew louder as she rounded the corner a block down from the sniper's supposed nest. To her animalistic delight, Meko peered silently into the alleyway to see a buxom blonde stooped over the trunk of a black Ford-model coupe. The exhaust spilled and sputtered from the tailpipe, filling and obscuring the small breezeway like thick London fog; the loud grumble of the engine easily covering the shuffle of Meko's measured steps. 

Slinking lowly down the side of the vehicle, Meko slipped the knife between her teeth, grabbed the open trunk with both hands and slammed the lid as hard as she could across the woman's back. A strangled, pained yelp emanated with a metallic echo from the depths of the trunk as Meko cackled wickedly. Moving around the back of the vehicle, she leveraged all her weight, planning to shove the woman into the trunk as collateral. But as she leaned over, the breath hissed from her lungs with a wheezing gasp as a heavy mule kick prom her opponent sent her reeling backwards. The night around her seemed to crush in like a dark avalanche as Meko struggled to catch her breath. 

What ensued was a spectacle befitting the boxing ring... or a strip club... as the women rolled along the ground and walls of the alley, crashing into bins and crates and slamming into empty dumpsters with reverberating clatter. For a few moments, the alley was a noir tableau of flailing arms and thrashing legs, clawing nails and gnashing teeth; with a force and brutality that many men would gladly pay to behold. For a brief moment, it seemed that Meko would gain the upper hand, her forearm pinned over the woman's throat as she held her against the wall, blade at the ready straining against the blonde's failing resistance. But, just as the blade was about to break through to the woman's delicate, exposed neck, she thrust her head forward and sank her teeth deep into the fleshy flat of Meko's palm. 

With a howling yell, the knife clattered to the ground, the would-be assassin taking the opportunity to exploit her brief repose. Going straight for the kill, she lunged for Meko's throat, squeezing until Shome thought her eyes would actually pop out of her head. Meko fought frantically to break the woman's grasp, several of her nails bending back as she clawed at the woman's face and hands. But her grip was iron-clad as she pushed Meko back against the car. The edges of her vision began to blur and fade, the world around her narrowing to a pulsing pin-prick tunnel as the woman's sneering face swam before her vision. Her head felt like pop rocks as tiny pricks of light began to tickle the back of her eyelids. Panic began to flood into her fading system as her flailing slackened and slowed to a weak flop. 

Gritting her teeth, Meko pushed and gasped through the growing darkness. As her lungs spasmed around the crushing emptiness within them, her thumbs sought out the woman's eyes and buried themselves within their sockets. By god, if she was dying tonight, darkness would be the last thing EITHER of them saw! The woman shrieked and clawed at Meko's hands... the air rushing back into her lungs with a strangling gasp as she was released. It was harsh and painful; as if her lungs might explode from the influx of breath. But she held on. The blonde thrashed helplessly, her hands desperately prying and raking as Meko's digits raped her orbital sockets. She pulled and pushed at Meko's palms and clawed at her arms, but Meko's fingers tangled deeply into her hair, clutching her skull and keeping her locked tightly in an invasive vice grip. 

Spinning to dislodge herself from the car, Meko turned; knocking the woman off balance as she twisted about. With a lurching tumble, they both plunged toward the car. Meko, unable to compensate for the extra weight as she tried to regain her footing, landed atop the woman with a clattering, shattering crash. Glass raked her wrists and arms as the woman's head smashed through the driver's window with a sickening squelch. Ripping her arms from the car, Meko blinked as blood slowly trickled down the driver's door from beneath the woman's matted blonde curls. Her masticated, bloody sockets stared up at the silver sliver of moon that broke through the passing clouds to illuminate their gaping, empty depths; her corpse suspended and impaled on the jagged, broken glass that rose up from the doorframe. 

Meko's wheezing turned to retching as she stared down at the inky black ooze that now covered her thumbs and palms. Flinging and frantically wiping her hands, she tried desperately to shut out the voice in her head that SCREAMED, "That's her eyes!! There's EYEBALLS on my hands!" It was something viscerally disconcerting in a way she was unprepared for. Smearing the disgusting goop off on the woman's clothes, Meko moved around to the trunk. There were weapons of all shapes and sizes, Molotov cocktails, chains and padlocks. This wasn't just an assassination, she thought silently. This was supposed to be an eradication. Hope wasn't the only target tonight. It had been ALL of LA. Which left a terrifying question echoing in the back of Meko's brain. Who in LA had helped orchestrate this? 

Moving back around, Meko searched the woman's suspended corpse but found nothing. Of course, no professional in this life would carry I.D. That was just dumb. Stooping to leverage her weight against the woman's wait, Meko grunted and groaned... her feet sliding against the loose gravel of the alley as she lifted the body off of the impaling glass with a disgusting, sucking, slurp. Laying the woman out, she looked again, searching this time for any telling marks. The woman's wrists were bare, but when Meko turned her over to peer beneath her hair, there was a single, ripped and torn tattoo inked across the back of her neck. That was unfortunate. It was quite damaged, but Meko could still make out a what looked like bubbles and a few letters within the bold, block script... DEL and DEN. It wasn't much, but it was something... hopefully. 

With a heavy sigh, Meko retrieved her knife and carefully flayed the ink from the woman's cooling corpse. Spreading it carefully over the dashboard, she climbed into the car and took a deep breath, contemplating what to do next. There could be more attackers. Maybe she should go search... go fight. But, would she actually be ABLE to fight at this point? And what about the car? There was enough combined firepower in the trunk to level a whole city block. She couldn't very well leave it to be recovered. Coughing lightly, she gulped down another pained breath as she closed the door and put the car in drive. Looks like she was on guard duty tonight.

Gun drawn and knife at the ready, Meko slid into a parallel spot just outside the front entrance. It hadn't been quite an hour yet, but things seemed to be settling down. She kept a wary eye on the door as her people slowly filtered out into the night. Chewing her lip, her mind wandered to all the people she'd left behind when she bolted after the shooter. Surely there were enough people to make sure Hope was treated... Had she survived? What about everyone else? Had anyone else been hit? And Ely... where was her beloved crew leader? And the sweet little thing that... 

Just as the thought entered her mind, Nitesprite sauntered up to the bar with a BEAMING smile. Clearly, she had been far more successful than Meko. That was good. Signaling the woman, Meko opened the passenger door to let her slide in. That just left one more... Meko's eyes scanned the throngs of people lining the street with a worried gaze. EC3 should be back by now. And her mind still burned with a thousand thousand other questions that demanded answers.

  Nitesprite left the warehouse with a smile that would have lit up Hollywood Blvd on the darkest of nights.  Thoughts went through her mind she knew where the order came from and that it was more than one group involved it seemed that the snipers boss had made a tentative alliance with another to try and take the rising godmother out. If Los Angeles failed to rise from the previous war’s ashes it would be beneficial to those in Delaware or their partners. She wished she could have gotten more from the sniper before his body went limp.  Maybe one of the hands she had reported to earlier would have the information that was needed to fill in the blanks. After all they were part of the upper structure of the city and were privy to information that she was not.  Frustration and worry building,  she hastened with under the weight and gravity of the situation, worrying about the condition of their Godmother. How badly had she been shot?  

    Scanning the bar, her anxiety of the situation rises as she is unable to find either hand to report to.  She spun on a booted foot and left the bar, thinking maybe she should go back and dispose of the body she left in the warehouse. As she continued down the street a woman whistled and was signaling with her hand from a car. A smile of recognition spread across her face like wildfire as she headed in that direction, although they had not met officially Nitesprite knew she was the Left-Hand man of the Skinwalkers. Nitesprite hurried to the woman in the vehicle sliding into the passenger seat Nitesprite had to stifle a laugh.” Looks like we both took a beating.” She raises a hand and winces as she touches a tender spot on her left cheek she knew it had to be a few lovely shades of green and purple. Extending her hand to the woman in the driver seat Nitesprite smiles wincing at the pain in her cheek, “I am Nitesprite, an associate with the Phoenixes, I am sorry I recognize you as one of the uppers in L.A., but I don’t recall your name.” After the two had formally introduced themselves to each other Nitesprite saw the piece of carved flesh laid out flat on the dashboard with Den and Del tattooed into the skin. Pointing to it she asked what its story was.

    After Meko explained that she took it from the woman that she also commandeered the car and supplies from Nit sprite’s mind ran amok and it flooded from her mouth like the ravings of a mad man.  “Do you suppose that Del means Delaware? I mean the sniper I left limp in the warehouse. OH, you know we should get rid of the bodies. I know a nice quiet place off a pier that is a shark breeding ground they will make light work of the bodies. “

     Meko drove down the road as Nitesprite’s rambling got back on track. She continued with what information she had found maybe they could hash out some sort of idea where this attack came from, then show the bastards what happens when you go after the Godmother of Los Angeles.  “Sorry I get sidetracked sometimes. Anyways the sniper in the warehouse revealed that his boss was from Delaware. The only Boss there high enough or even has the funds to pull this job would be. “

     The two ladies looked at each other making eye contact as they simultaneously answered.

“Tyler.”

     But what did Den mean? Was it another city? Maybe Denver. But who in Denver would want L.A taken out the picture and why would someone from Denver make an alliance with Delaware?

**Text above supplied by Nitesprite. Copied by Meko due to extenuating personal circumstances.**

Meko might have giggled at Nite's longwinded ramblings had she not been lost in such serious thought. "I'm not so sure we should dump them," she mused, "the bodies, I mean. An attack like this... we need to send a message. Whoever did this needs to know that we know. And they need to see what become of anyone  who fucks with us. I'll have my boys make sure the message gets delivered... loud and clear."  She side eyed the woman in the car with her blankly for a brief moment; which was all it took to nearly obliterate the beefy black guy who stepped out in front of the car. Meko cursed as tires screeched, the oozing skin laid out beneath the windshield sliding with a disgusting slurp as the car came to a screeching halt. "God damn it, for fuck's sake. DEMITRI!!!" She bellowed out the window like a mother scolding a child in trouble up to his ears. The man jumped and shrank away, almost as if he could feel the waves of tension and frustration rolling off of her; a low, angry growl escaping her throat. 

With a deep breath, she tucked a stray wave behind her ear, cleared her throat and casually rolled down the window as if nothing had happened. "Nitwprite, Demitri. Dem, Nitsprite. The Phoenixes. We were just talking about you," the coy smile the man had been fiving Nite slowly faded as he turned his attention to his boss, "I have a job. And you're going to see to it. Take whatever resources you need. But make sure the bodies across from the bar are ready for 'transportation' as soon as I get back. I'm sure their boss is just dying to know what's happened tonight. Make 'em look pretty, won't you?" The man grumbled an exasperated affirmative before turning and jogging back toward the bar and the warehouse.  "And tell Ely to check in!" Meko yelled after him, craning her neck around to hang out the window before dropping the car back into drive. 

Glancing at Nite, Meko thought for a long moment before nodding silently to herself and taking off toward the Godmother's HQ. "I doubt the Upper's have made it back yet, but Hope's place is gonna be the safest in town regardless. We need to get the shit in this trunk squared and YOU safe."  She held Nite's gaze for a long moment. "Durden's clearly out too... " Meko nearly slammed on the brakes as a flash of understanding struck like lightning behind her eyes. "It's DURDEN!" 

Nite blinked as if the woman driving had lost her mind. Of course it was Durden. They'd already come to that conclusion. Was she slow? Meko noticed the incredulous glance that came from Nite and nearly ran off the road in a fit of giggles. If she wasn't slow, then she was definitely crazy. Poking the slab of flesh that still lay on the dash, her fingers traced the letters as if that would help. D-E-N... "DurDEN." Meko explained. "I don't think there's anyone else involved. I think it's a power play. And the extra information is a decoy. It's kind of ingenious really. If we divide our forces looking for TWO sources... well, a house divided cannot stand. It's simply tactical logic." 

As they approached the Godmother's HQ, Meko slowed and stopped... well before the looming fort walls. With both hands out the window, she slowly opened the door and slid from the car with both hands in the air. Just in case. Several of Hope's men scurried down from their posts to both greet and search her. Next came the car. Kicking the trunk, Meko allowed the men... and one very spunky made lady... to examine it's contents as she explained the night's events outside the bar. After an extensive inventory, she was allowed to pull... slowly... into the HQ. 

Leaning over, she opened Nite's door from the inside, giving her a little push, "I'll finish up getting these secure," she gestured to the trunk, "You find the highest man in Hope's crew that you can... and yours too, if you're able... and relay the information we've gathered. Oh, and take this." 

Meko passed Nite the cold, coagulated patch of skin before the woman was able to protest. The thought of bologna would be ruined for weeks. As Nite - hands stiff and nose wrinkled in visceral distaste - hurried inside, Meko secured the cache of weapons and bombs in the trunk. Some went up to the walls, straightaway. Give them a taste of their own medicine, and all that jazz, she thought. The rest she stored carefully in the HQ before hurrying in to follow up with Nitesprite and whomever else might yet be around to field their information. With everything locked down tight... Nite and her valuable queries included... all that was left was to wait out the night and pray that all emerged well.

A long night with long prayers it was yet to be. 

The recent circumstances not withstanding, kindly contact me for your rewards.

Unfortunately only one judge could  evaluate the scores instead of the planned 5 before the shit hit the fan. So that is all I have to go by. Apologies with respect to that.

If you wish to check out exact scores, they can be found here.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1xyJ_WpmeFl0z_oHo6P9IRgRofnBqRIi-g8hOg8EwMG8/edit#gid=1990581270

If you wish to read the posts made by others, they can be found here.

https://mafiareturns.com/comm/thread/1158747/tpass/2c28409b4ab45fa190ca9a328cfd3f0c#17979095

I understand that everything that could go wrong with this event, did. But that said, if anyone still wishes to work with me on something in the future, I'd be more than happy to do so.