All in all, it was a quiet night out. He had just finished his little jaunt toward a certain fairy's house. He was fucking pitiful, he couldn't seem to stay away. It was simply too early and yet, cloaked in darkness he walked by that familiar ivy clad home nestled anyway. There was a light on, which meant she was up and inside. His mind was still reeling about last night's note and those little hearts she scrawled upon that pale pink paper. He looked forward to those notes, as though flirting with the idea of communication without actually having a face to face. Was the hunter actually... nervous of the dainty little creature that he could snuff out in a breath of a moment? No, that was absolutely ridiculous. He grumbled to himself, his shadowy amethyst eyes continued to adeptly scan down the nearly abandoned street up ahead. He hadn't received a disturbance call in the west, but then again, it was almost a guarantee that there was one waiting to happen. The cat population seemed to have skyrocketed over these last few weeks. There was something brewing but he couldn't quite seem to place a finger on it. It was most likely filthy were's, but that seemed brazen, even by most standards. They knew the rules and he was quick to enforce them by any means necessary.

The dark hunter remains vigilant, silent within the murk that run-down westside seemed to harbor, his gait fueled by his usual lethal purpose. His boots despite the clunky appearance are nearly silent upon the concrete beneath him.

It felt like the night was alive, like it possessed its own pulse, there was some kind of imprint upon the air that his senses simply could not ignore. It made the dark hunter's sense grow alert, but he could not see anything out of the ordinary. He was rarely wrong, but his eyes failed to see anything. He could smell the same familiar salty air from the docks and the usual westside scents along with those unfavorable aromas of a nearby overflowing dumpster.

It didn't take long for the hunter to grow distracted with his own thoughts, before the distant sound of a scream pulled him out of that distant reverie. He had that note within his hand, toying with the edges as he walked, reading it again for the fifth time as if he didn't have anything better to do. He paused, snapping into a hunter mode, his head lifting up, placing that note safely back within his pockets, those shadows he wielded flaring to life around him. He moves quickly with purpose, breaking out into a jogging toward where he thought he heard that distress filled cry. It sounded close but it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where the sound came from. There were too many dark alleyways, too many places where it could have come from. He hoped he wasn't too late. Even if he was, he wouldn't be to late to execute the cause of that sound, he could track him and end him like he did most vile preternatural beasts that crossed his paths.

He slowed his pace again.. Come on, scream again.. scream. Adrien thought, needing a hint. Anything to pinpoint where that distress call had come from. That second cry ripped through the night air into his enhanced sense of hearing. He rounded the corner with lightning fast reflexes, his powers summoned nearly instantaneous. Four shadowy arrows hovering precariously suspended above his head, an inky billowing trail of smoky darkness void of any light cascaded down around him.

Shadows sprawl out around him like a shroud of death, looking every bit the name, he earned himself. Reaper. The long leather jacket that clung to his muscular figure certainly attributed to the moniker, along with his usual indiscriminate hatred for all things supernatural.

What the fuck was that? He saw movement upon the other side, concealed from the body of the human. He saw a feline, too large to be a stray domestic and it seemed to be enjoying the carnage as much as the vampire who seemed hardly bothered or aware of his presence within that feeding frenzy. "Look what we have here, a vampire eating with the rest of the vermin. Here I thought the west held nothing for me tonight." His voice tore through the sickening sound of that brutal mauling, not any notice was given before that arrow went flying, wanting to gather his attention. He could see the blood exiting that wound with a ferocity, as if each pulse pushed that very life force out of the human man, he had to have ripped open an artery with a wound like that. It was hard to tell if the man's whole neck was ravaged or if it was simply the blood and dim lighting. Upon further scrutiny it the first and that slight whimper that escaped him, that poor bastard was still alive. Not for long he suspected. He needed to act fast if there was any hope to save the human.

Shit, this didn't look good. His eyes narrowed, sending those other shadow arrows flying right toward the feasting vampire who would have to move if he was going to avoid those merciless shadowy spears. They moved how he willed them to, following his target, the vampire who was hopefully too slow to react. The vampire seemed to be the real target tonight, the feline could easily be disposed of afterward. The hunter peered at the vampire with utter disgust and hatred. In an instant, a shadowy sword was summoned and with a flash of speed he was poised and ready to decapitate and end this. One less vampire to traumatize the world seemed like a win in his book the look upon his face easily mirroring that very sentiment.