"Really, what’s with that shirt Gautier?"

Nick blinked, glancing up at Acheron with a lopsided grin on his face. "Are you really going to talk about my choice of clothes?" He raked his eyes over Acheron, brows rising. "Cause we can talk ‘bout all your fashion faux pas right now." He leaned back in his chair, placing his laced fingers behind his head as he smirked at the man before him.

Acheron heaved a heavy sigh, eyes rolling behind dark sunglasses. How had he managed to get stuck with such a smart ass kid? Right, that was all Kyrian’s fault. However, Acheron couldn’t imagine life without Nick, or Cherise for that matter, even if she was overbearing at times.

"We’ll always disagree on your choice in colors."

"Hey, at least I don’t put these wild colors in my hair. That, my man, shows that you have some serious issues." Nick nodded, slowly lowering the chair while he glanced back over at the computer. "But that’s already been established..."

"One day, Gautier..."

"Bang, zoom, straight to the moon?" Nick typed as he talked, not once glancing back over at Acheron.

"Yes, to infinity and beyond." Acheron folded his arms over his broad chest, "You had news for me that just couldn’t wait?"

Nick’s fingers finally stilled on the keyboard, and with a nod he turned the monitor to face Acheron. "Apparently we’ve had some group trying to hack into the system."

Acheron took a step forward, placing his palms on the edge of the desk as he leaned forward to look at the monitor. His brows rose over the rim of his sunglasses, "Humans? No self-respecting Damion would dare call their group that."

With a laugh, Nick lifted a shoulder. "Honestly," he reached up and rubbed the back of his head, "I don’t know what group of vampire hunters would call their group that to begin with."

"Vampire hunters?" Acheron slid his gaze over to Nick, an amused look on his face before he pushed himself back off the desk. "Sounds like a bunch of humans who are just in for a world of hurt when a Damion decides to snack on them. Is that all?"

"Always in such hurry, Ash." Nick tsked, shaking his head. "It’s not all, actually. I’ve done some research on this group, and while their name is pretty ridiculous they seem legit." With another shrug, he turned the monitor back to face him. "They also say they have a cure."

"A cure for being a Damion? I have one too, it’s called pierce the ink blot with a sharp object."

Nick looked over at Acheron, "No, for being a vampire."

"Nick, there’s no such thing as..."

"Vampires, I know that’s what you, Mr. I’ve-been-around-for-forever says, but according to these people there are vampires. And they can cure vampirism, but they’re running low on funding so they can’t get the cure out to the masses so to speak."

"Wait," Acheron held up a hand, "you’ve talked to them?"

Nick's lips quirked up into a sly smirk, "I’ve talked to their tech, Sommerfield." He cleared his throat, "She sounds really hot. She’s got this raspy bedroom type of voice." He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck with a grin to which Acheron replied with a sigh. "What?"

"I swear, Gautier, one day your lower half is going to get you into trouble."

"Well until that day comes, want their address, and can I come with?" Nick waved a piece of paper in Acheron’s direction, pouting slightly when the leader of the Dark-Hunters took the paper from him and turned on his heel without a word. "Aw, come on, Ash!"

~*~*~*~

"Fucking bloodsuckers." Hannibal murmured under his breath as he fed more silver stakes into the modified Army objective individual combat weapon. While the nest that he and Whistler had found holed up in an abandoned movie theater wasn’t a big one, the vamps seemed more on edge than any he’d encountered before. Fuck, even Danica’s crew wasn’t this fucking nuts. Taking in a deep breath, he cocked the oversized gun, and stepped out from his hiding spot and headed deeper into the theater.

The first vamp that rushed at him was turned to ash in a matter of moments as the stake hit its intended mark. Hannibal turned, gun cocked and ready to fire but as the vamp quickly closed the distance, Hannibal didn’t have a chance to shoot. Instead he raised the gun, hitting the vamp square in the jaw with the butt of the gun. The vamp stumbled backwards, giving Hannibal a chance to shoot.

Swinging around, he took a couple of steps back as a rather tall and blond vamp that stood before him. "Holy shit, they changing Fabio now?" Hannibal smirked, as the vamp sneered at him. "It’s ok, Danica did always like them pretty and a little on the dur side, so I can safely assume that all vampire's are that way."

He didn’t waste any time in shooting the vamp, but when it didn’t ash Hannibal’s brows furrowed. "What the fuck?"

"Apparently she did like them dumb." The Damion sneered at him, before knocking the gun from King’s hands and pushing him down to the ground.

Hannibal struggled underneath the lithe body that was pressed against him. He tried in vain to reach for the handgun that he always kept on his side, but when he felt the sharp sting of teeth piercing his neck he paused for a heartbeat. A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t go back to being a vampire, he wouldn’t, and with newfound determination he finally wrapped his fingers around the handle of the gun and shot through the vampire’s side.

Still the bastard didn’t ash, and Hannibal’s panic began rising with each passing moment.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, thankful that Whistler had finally come to his rescue for the thousandth time it seemed. "Get the motherfucker off me." He pushed in vain at the vamp, only to blink when the fucker exploded in a shower of gold dust.

"What the holy fuck?" He scrambled back, one hand going up to his neck to put pressure on the bite wound as his eyes fell upon a pair of...motorcycle boots?

Slowly his eyes trailed upward over a pair of leather clad legs, then a worn Misfits shirt, over which was a long black trench coat. The guy looked like a reject from the Goth scene, but the sunglasses that he wore made Hannibal wonder if he was part of the MIB. Then again, aliens didn’t exist, or at least Hannibal didn’t think that they existed. He had no idea who the fuck this guy was, but he was thankful that he’d been there.

"Are you alright?" The man spoke finally, moving only to take a step back away from the other.

Hannibal stood, wincing slightly and shook his head. "Fuck no I’m not alright." His brows furrowed as he cast an angry look in the man’s direction. "I’ve been bitten, again, and for the record that’s not a fucking good thing." He pulled a small walkie-talkie from his belt, pushing the call button.

"Whistler?" He waited on her to respond before continuing. "I’ve been bitten. We’ve got to get back to base." He sighed as she cussed at him, and told him that she’d be there in a few minutes.

Acheron smirked slightly at Hannibal, "Don’t worry you have no risk of turning into one of them, again. This," He waved his hand, indicating to the gold dust at their feet, "was no vampire."

Tucking the walkie-talkie back into his belt, Hannibal gave the man a look. "No fucking shit, Sherlock. Vamps ash, they don’t...they don’t fucking turn into glitter." From the look the guy was giving him, Hannibal knew he was treading on thin ice. "So what the fuck was it?"

"A thing called a Damion. Children of Apollo who were, unfortunately, cursed by their father a long time ago. They don’t have the ability to change someone into what they are, but they do suck out your soul so they can stay alive a little longer." He smirked at the hunter as he paled, "Fucking awesome isn’t it?"

Hannibal took a moment to absorb what Mr. Tall-dark-and-deadly told him, "Fucking great. Not only do we have bloodsuckers to deal with, we have soul suckers to deal with." He glanced up at the other man, "How did you kill Fabio?"

Acheron lifted his hand, placing it right above Hannibal’s heart. "There’s what we call an ink blot in this area here. Pierce it, they dust." Slowly he lowered his hand, putting it back at his side. "I am Acheron Parthenopaeus, please call me Ash, and I have a proposition for your group."

"King, Hannibal King, and I’m all fucking ears bud."

Acheron had to hurry; there was no reason for the man’s partner to know about their deal, at least not yet. Actually, the less people that knew about their deal the happier he’d be. "I heard that your group is running short on funds."

Hannibal nodded, "Yeah, our supply is running low, and none of us really enjoy knocking over joints to help bankroll our operation. I tried to get Abby to whore herself out, and that didn’t go over fucking well."

"I’m sure that it didn’t." Acheron smirked, shifting to fold his arms over his chest. "What if I bankrolled your operation? Under the table, no questions asked, but in return I’d need something."

Hannibal’s brows rose at that, "Like what?" He eyed the man for a moment, "Cause from where I’m standing you don’t look like you need a hell of a lot."

Acheron chuckled softly, "I need more than you think." He paused for a moment before continuing, "All I ask for in return is a little bit of backup if, or when any of my people need it and that you tell no one unless the need for backup arises. So," He tilted his head to the side, "do we have a deal?"

Hannibal considered the man before him for a moment, knowing somewhere deep down in his bones that Abigail wasn’t going to like this little arrangement. Still, they desperately needed the money to continue their work. "Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal." He blinked when the tall man turned on his heel and began to walk away. "So, what the fuck do we do now? And what the fuck am I supposed to tell them about where we're getting our money from?"

Stopping, Acheron turned and peered over the top of his sunglasses at the man. His lips curled up into a smirk when he saw King’s eyes widen at the sight of his eyes, "Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch." He pushed his sunglasses back up his nose, "Why don't you tell them that you decided to whore yourself out? I'm sure they'll get a kick out of it." With a dark chuckle Acheron left Hannibal in the middle of the aisle, knowing that very soon things would be different for all of them.