Blood Hunter: Rivers of Blood

The narrow street pulsed with the hum of the city, neon lights flickering above the sea of patrons below. Billboards flashed garish advertisements, their vibrancy competing with the dimming sky, while cables hung loosely from overhead, like veins stretching through the urban sprawl. The crowd moved in disconnected waves—some in tattered clothes, others in sharp, clean-cut jackets that seemed out of place in the grime-ridden streets. Figures huddled in groups, chatting idly, while others wandered aimlessly, lost in their own thoughts or their chemical escapes.

 Tienerra moved through the mass with the grace of a shadow, each step calculated, avoiding the jostling figures around her. Her wings and tail shifted seamlessly with her every motion, adjusting her trajectory, skimming past others with the precision of a practiced predator. Even in this crowded chaos, her space remained her own, the air around her bending to her presence.

 She paused, her gaze catching a neon sign with a mug illustrated on it, pointing to a doorless opening ahead. Before she could take a step forward, a metal mug flew out of the door, nearly grazing her as she tilted her head, her left wing arching to avoid the projectile. She paused, a small sigh escaping her lips, before walking into the bar without hesitation.

 The dimly lit interior of the bar seemed like a world apart from the bustling street. The air was thick with the smell of musky sweat, old blood, and spilled liquor, while the flickering lights barely illuminated the grimy surfaces of the room. Tienerra's eyes adjusted to the murk as she scanned the patrons in the dark corners—figures hunched over drinks, murmuring in low tones.

 Her gaze was drawn to a Kitsurai in the back, grasping the bloodied, motionless form of a Rho'kan, dragging him down a shadowed hallway. The Rho'kan's feet scraped along the cold steel floor, leaving a trail of crimson behind them. It was a scene far too common in this place, but the brutality still struck her.

 She approached the bar, leaning against it casually, her eyes scanning the room as she requested a shot of Vallok 5, a strong liquor favored by those who dared to embrace its intoxicating burn. The bartender, a male Nypherian with a face partially hidden by the dim light, nodded and moved toward the back of the bar. His movements were swift and deliberate as he gathered the drink and prepared it with expertise.

 As Tienerra waited, the ambient noise of the bar grew louder. The lights above flickered and then surged to life, illuminating a pristine stage at the far end of the room. The crowd's murmurs grew to a buzz of excitement, and as the curtains parted, a slender figure appeared from the right side of the stage. She moved with grace, her presence effortlessly commanding the space as the strobe lights traced her every step, casting a luminous path toward the center. The crowd fell silent, their collective gaze fixed entirely on the Kitsurai, every eye drawn to her in a mixture of awe and anticipation.

 She wore a dress that shimmered with a mesmerizing glow, each movement sending ripples of light that reflected the starlight as if the very fabric was woven from the night sky itself. The dress seemed to capture the room's energy, drawing it in, making the air around her feel lighter, almost ethereal. Her burgundy hair, rich and flowing, cascaded down her back in soft waves, catching the light and adding depth to her already radiant presence. Her tail swayed gently, almost as if it were part of the music itself, moving in perfect harmony with her every step. Her eyes, soft and gentle, gazed out into the crowd, their warmth and depth pulling at the hearts of those who looked into them. Her lips, delicate and poised, moved as she began to sing, her voice floating through the air like a soft caress, delicate yet powerful, and full of an undeniable magic that seemed to envelop everyone in the room. The entire crowd stood mesmerized, unable to look away, entranced by the soothing beauty of her performance.

 Tienerra felt herself pulled deeper into the performance, as though the music itself had a magnetic pull on her soul. It wasn't just the beauty of the song—though it was stunning—it was the way the melody seemed to speak directly to her, to something deeper within. The atmosphere of the bar shifted subtly around her. The air, once thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and despair, began to clear, each note floating through the room like a cleansing breeze. The oppressive heaviness in her chest lifted with every word that passed the singer's lips, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world outside the bar seemed to vanish. It was as if time itself had frozen, the harsh realities of the station pausing to make room for the pure, haunting beauty of the music.

 Tienerra remained rooted to the spot, her glass still untouched, her eyes locked on the stage, drawn in by the magnetic pull of the song. She couldn't look away, couldn't move, as the Kitsurai's voice wove around her, filling the room with something otherworldly. The final notes lingered in the air, heavy with emotion. The singer bowed slightly, her graceful movements slow and deliberate, and as she raised her hand to her heart, Tienerra could almost feel the warmth of the gesture reaching out to her. The Kitsurai's lips kissed her fingertips in a silent farewell, a tender moment that seemed to hold the entire room in its grasp. Then, with a final glance at the audience, she disappeared into the shadows beyond the stage, leaving the crowd in stunned silence, as if the world had shifted once again.

 The moment the final note faded, the room erupted into loud, raucous applause. The crowd, once hushed in awe, now cheered with abandon, clapping and hollering for the performer's captivating performance. Some whistled, others erupted in animal like roars, their appreciation unrestrained. It was clear that the singer was a beloved figure, her popularity evident in the fervor of the crowd's reaction. The bartender, still standing at his post, rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He cleared his throat, shaking his head as if coming out of a trance.

"That was 'Star,'" he said with a hint of admiration, his tone almost reverential. "Our most popular girl in this rotten, derelict station." He leaned against the counter, watching the crowd as they continued to cheer, some already growing impatient, clearly expecting more. The atmosphere in the room shifted as the singer vanished from view, leaving the crowd to revel in the excitement of her presence. But it was clear—without her on stage, the unruliness would soon return, and the energy would quickly shift back to something darker, more chaotic.

 Tienerra snapped back to the present, her thoughts returning to the business at hand. She finished her drink in one swift motion, placing the empty glass back onto the bar with a quiet click.

 "I've been to a lot of places and heard a lot of songs, but what I just heard… that felt like a cleansing," Tienerra said, her voice soft but filled with a quiet reverence, her gaze lingering on the stage where the singer had just disappeared.

 The bartender let out a short, knowing laugh, the sound refined and controlled, like someone who had spent years in the highest circles of society. His voice carried an undercurrent of authority, even as he spoke with casual ease. His tall, statuesque frame loomed over the bar, his posture straight and unyielding, as if carved from some ancient ideal of nobility. His sharp, angular features—high cheekbones and a smooth, regal expression—were only heightened by the flickering lights above, casting long shadows along the ridges of his face. His face, while more human in structure, bore the subtle influence of his species: sleek, elongated ears that tapered to sharp points and eyes that gleamed with an intensity that hinted at a deeper, otherworldly presence. His gaze, both piercing and calculating, gave him the air of someone who had seen millennia of history unfold, while still holding the quiet confidence of a being who had mastered the art of watching and waiting.

 "You're right," he agreed, his tone rich and cultured. "She adds a little something extra to her singing—some magic, she says, to help lighten the hearts and souls of the listeners. A delicate touch that few can match." He ran a careful hand over his glass, his long, tapered fingers accentuating his precise movements as though every gesture was calculated, deliberate.

 Tienerra nodded, appreciating the bartender's insight. Her fingers slipped into the breast pocket of her jacket, retrieving a sleek neura prism. It shimmered faintly in the dim lighting, its quantum encryption pulsing softly, a reflection of the quiet hum that vibrated through the bar. She held it up, the prism catching the light from the stage as it flickered in and out with the changing colors. "I'm looking for someone," she said, her voice steady, the edge of intent clear in her words. "And I'll pay well for that info."

 The bartender's gaze shifted subtly toward the neura prism. His eyes, a deep shade of amber, were unreadable, his expression one of polite curiosity. He paused for just a moment, allowing the weight of the request to settle before he moved with slow, deliberate grace. With the precision of a practiced professional, he drew his own neura prism from his pocket. The two devices met with a soft click, syncing with a barely audible hum. As the transaction was completed, his fingers brushed against Tienerra's, the brief contact a delicate acknowledgment of the exchange. His movements were careful, respectful—almost ceremonious—his demeanor indicating he didn't take such matters lightly.

 "Alright," the bartender murmured, his voice smooth and polite, but with an underlying note of careful scrutiny. He returned to his duties, methodically polishing a glass with a cloth, his movements as fluid as ever. "What is it that you need to find, exactly?"

 Tienerra remained composed, her hand steady on the counter, her posture leaning in just enough to make sure their conversation stayed private. "I'm looking for a group of archaeologists who passed through here not long ago," she said, her voice quiet but firm, with a weight that demanded attention. "I need to get them back home to their families. They've already paid for the service." Her eyes didn't waver, and though her words were veiled, her eyes revealed the deeper motive behind them. This wasn't just about the archaeologists; they were her cover. Her true purpose was to find Sable, a lead that had crossed paths with the group, according to her sources.

 The bartender nodded in understanding, his hands never faltering as he filled her glass with Vallok 5, the liquid flowing smoothly, dark and rich. "They're holed up at the old ops command center, far off the beaten path. Word around here says they found something—some kind of relic. Something that could grant a person immense strength and power." He set the bottle down with a soft clink, his gaze briefly meeting hers. "I also heard one of them got away with the item, and now the Severed Blades are after him."

 Tienerra took the glass from the bartender, the cold crystal smooth in her palm. She drank the Vallok 5 with practiced ease, the sharp burn warming her insides. "Thank you for the suggestion," she said, her voice slightly sharper now, tinged with a subtle smile. "Looking forward to the next performance, sir."

 With that, she turned, the heavy fabric of her cloak sweeping behind her as she made her way back through the door, effortlessly blending into the bustling crowd. Just before the door closed, she gave a final wave, her fingers lingering in the air for a moment before it clicked shut, signaling her departure.