The man stared at the man he had believed to be a woman in shock. Not missing a beat, the she-male crawled onto the bed and whispered into the man's ear something in a language that hadn't been spoken since the last sun had ended.
All of a sudden, the big, handsome bodyguard she shared a bed with eased up, his shock disappearing from his expression.
He crept on top of her and made out with her while his hands wandered around Carlie's body, caressing her in various sensitive areas of her physiology.
"You're the first man, I love Baby." He whispered.
She came closer to the man's ear but took a playful bite on it instead of speaking, making the man shiver.
he replied to this attention by kissing his way down from her mouth down to her sex, taking his time to make the moment last. She let out a moan of pleasure with her eyes closed.
She felt something lukewarm touch her side and the man said; "Sadly, I'm not just happy to see you."
A second latter, three loud bangs filled the room as hot lead was shot right into her body. She screamed in pain at the sudden attack.
The man rose from the bed and emptied the rest of his pistol at her, not missing a single shot at this distance.
"Good night, sweet prince." He said before throwing the gun down on the ground, after wiping the handle clean.
He left using the backdoor and let her there to bleed to death. He had been either lucky or a very good shot as he had shot her arteries, which would soon empty her of all the blood in her body.
"Shit..." she muttered as she groaned in pain.
A human would have been dead, but she was a Scion, the child of a god, or rather a goddess in her case. The divine Ichor that flowed in them made their bodies more resilient than a normal man's.
But she had another weapon at her disposal... She focused her powers, just like her mother had taught her to and she took control of her blood's flow, forcing it to flow normally, ignoring the pierced arteries and veins.
It made it even much more painful but the Aztec gods were hardened, blood and pain was their food and daily bread. She then used to remaining shreds of power she had to force sealed the wounds, coagulating the blood into patches that would keep her alive.
Painfully, she stumbled toward the door, she had to leave before the cops showed up...
On the other side of the city, something similar was in motion. Ben Bastis had been invited to a talk show that evening but had been relayed, much to his irritation, to the end of the live show.
"Mr. Bastis, it's your turn in sixty seconds." A stage hand said.
Finally, the host of the show announced his name and he walked into the spot light to the applause of the studio audience. Despite being rich and famous, he didn't like being in the spotlight.
He knew he had been invited just because of all the charity events he financed and attended. He would have paid the money anonymously if it hadn't left a huge suspect hole in his finances that could lead to an investigation...
The show host began asking him about his trip to the middle east and Ben merely gave him his cover story, which he had tailored with backed up proofs. He had raced through official things in the first day and then went to his real job.
The host, which he learned was called Henri Hendricks, then pestered him about all the charity event he supervised. Once more, he answered mindlessly, instead focused on watching the surroundings in an almost paranoid manner.
That's when he noticed a man dressed in a long trench coat with long dark hair obscuring his traits coming into the room in between the bleachers. The man didn't enter from a door but instead passed right through the wall.
Out of his coat, he took out a pair of submachine guns, which the billionaire recognized as FN P90, and he started firing wildly toward the Scion of Bastet.
Ben, without wasting a second, jumped for cover as bullet filled the air. Out of his jacket, he took out his weapon, a 50. caliber handgun from which an odd locket hung. When the man's clip ran out, he rose from his cover and fired twice, his pistol letting out a very distinctive roar.
Faster than humanly possible, the assassin dodged the first bullet but doing so, he received the second right in the shoulder. He wasn't the first demon the philanthropist fought so he had planned his shots well.
When the bullet hit him, large parts of his coat flew, like they had been ripped by claws. Not asking for a rematch, Alastor flowed through the floor and escaped...
"Shit..." Ben swore as he looked around. Stray bullets had hit several persons from the audience as well as the crew...