He was right, she said, to sever those ties to his family while young rather than allow them to persist as she had. Her brother having continued to exist, it seemed, only to betray her all the more when it came to Harley, the little wretch. Family, Risque said, were the biggest of disappointments and how readily he agreed with his lover upon that very sentiment. Her family had done nothing but betray her and continue to be a veritable thorn in her side. Her brother turning his back upon her for the weak and failing love of pathetic human girl whom would only die in the end all the same. His own family had done nothing but hold him back, tie him down, limit who and what he could be as if they had never wanted more for him that t inherit that fucking patch of dirt they called a Ranch. As if they had some paltery, fading hope he might pass that shit heap onto his own son one day. Family had nothing to give. They were nothing more then leeches. Draining every bit of ambition or desire for something more he'd ever had. Nancy. She had been different and in the end even she had died. Darcy shaking his head lightly.

"You ain't wrong 'bout dat."

He lamented. That bitter note hardly having left him and yet he was loath to spoil the rest of that evening with those near toxic thoughts of a time and place and people he would sooner forget had existed at all. Darcy determined to bury those thoughts as deep as his family beneath the earth. He had survived. They hadn't. That alone was all that mattered. Risque, in turn, seemed equally as willing to allow that idle musing upon the past to fall to the wayside. The distraction of wine readily appealing to her as she insisted she was parched and yet he had failed to anticipate that further request. Risque demanding to see a further display off his own powers. To see how much he had grown since she had last examined those abilities he possessed. That hesitation was fleeting, momentary, swallowed within that shift of his figure toward that bottle of wine. Darcy so hardly foolish enough to bleed into the metaphorical pool of water that had come to surround him in those moments. How simple that request and yet that challenge, the demand, was so laced within like a dangerous undertow within the ocean. To displease her now when her mind already lingered near precariously upon that violent edge would be.....unpleasant for him. That desire to please her so intermingled with that well-trained obedience that so demanded he do as asked and yet he was hardly assured that his latest 'trick' was quote ready. He had practiced with that affinity for cars and its other adaptations only sparingly within his free time. Yet- Risques presence alone so had a habit of prompting that better work from himself in turn. Darcy left with truly few options other then doing as she demanded and seeking her favour.

How quickly those thoughts turned within his ever cunning mind as he reached for that bottle before turning to cross smoothly back over that rooftop and return with that newly filled glass. That delicate stem handed to his Mistress then before his own mismatched gaze focused upon that parking lot below. How readily aware he was of her hypnotic blue gaze upon his features. Risque searching eagerly for that weakness that Darcy in turn was loath to give. The pair, once more, engaged in that ever delicate game of to and fro that seemed to exist with riotous discord between them. A silent battle fought over and over with its ever-changing rules. A single use of that vampiric speed readily saw the man vault up and onto that very railing. Darcy content to add a flare of showmanship to his display tonight. The vampire ever aware of his lover all the same as she strode along that rooftop. How very near he almost expected her to push him if only for the fun of watching him fall. Some darker, far more twisted part of himself near relishing in the thought of her trying if only for the violent battle it would surely cause between them. Hos ravishing she was beneath that moonlight, her hair near inky black falling agianst her skin so smoothly. How readily his gaze followed that sway of her hips, his tongue brushing over his fangs near absentmindedly in the sheer distraction her figure caused him. Hos very much he craved it. Craved her. That very want for now, so channeled into the use of that affinity itself. Darcy nothing if not determined to impress her. To have her attention upon him lone where it so firmly belonged.

Those town cars fell easily beneath his control. Those metal machines groaning and howling their protest as they were all but commanded apart. Darcy, for now, caring little for the loss of those expensive vehicles. He could put them back together if need be. His focus for not the crafting of a machine far more powerful, far more masterful and far more dangerous then any car ever was. Those gears and springs and coils rushed across that floor beneath the sway of his commands, Darcy readily creating for himself any of thsoe parts the cars had not already yielded to piece together his own metal masterpiece. That creation so at last beginning to take place. Those sheets of metal sliding into place to give that outline atop that steel and iron skeletal frame. Blackened shadows near rushed to englusf that piece, hiding it from view for severa precarious moments as those WereCats below hissed their own irritation. Those final pieces screwed into place before Darcy finally allowed that metaphorical curtain fall and reveal that towering machine cat in all its black and silver glory. His gaze shifted only briefly, Darcy daring to glance at Risque's own features. The impatience shifted to concern to inquisitiveness to a near fleeting intrigue. Such a look so rarely seen upon face as she ordered those WereCats back only to glide closer to that Machine Cat herself. Those French words that fell from her lips readily prompted that smirk to Darcy's own. Those years at her side having assured him those were pleasing words to hear. Praise for his creation. How he relished those very words like blood from a newly opened wound.

How strange it felt to.....feel each one of thsoe turning pieces within that fabricated feline, that monstrous 'roar' near ear piercing and more then enough to send that Tiger scurrying back beneath the perceived safety of one of thsoe cars. Darcy's machine cat paced a circle below like a caged beast. Its movement near liquid in its fluidity, its tail lashing about as if annoyed with its lack of sport. Each of those movements so deceptively....life like and yet- he had spent years surrounded by Risques favoured pets. Enough to know well how they moved. That metal cat reared back upon its hind legs, its forepaws grasping the roof of Syn, those deadly steel claws sliding from its 'paws' to grip the roof as its eyes dimmed to a far more comfortable glow. Its head shifted from its master to Risque and back again, that rumbling purr rising within its throat as Darcy stepped back from that railing, his boots landing near silently on the concrete. The vampires hand lifted then, his fingers stroking at that metal cheek as if it were a real feline. Its single and only shortcoming surely that his Mistress could hardly keep it. That Machine so requiring him to 'drive' it. Those very parts held together with his own power. More of it then he had ever used before. How lucky he was well fed tonight if only for that sheer power he was expending. Risque's attention shifted from him to that Machine that, her query met with a nod if his head.

"It 'as no will of its own."

It was, Darcy was assured, a perfect creation. One that had no ability to defy, to demand, to betray. It did everything asked of it. Without even so much as a need for food or water. It's existence limited only by his own strength and desires. A cat that did not bleed and did not need. That Machine Cat's head turned lazily to look toward Risque then, that rumbling engine purr growing louder as if it desired her presence and her touch. Those near musing words she uttered hardly lost upon Darcy himself. She desired to see what it did to flesh. Darcy as of yet never having tested that creation in any true battle. The vampire hardly replying just yet as Risque placed that wine glass down before striding boldly toward that metal feline. Darcy was oblivious, in that moment, to the reach of her own power that fell and faltered in her efforts to grasp that machine. That cat instead so lowering its head ever so slightly to meet Risque's gaze directly as if to eye her in return. Her hand lifted toward those needle sharp teeth, the creatures jaws parting just so as if obediently offering her a better view of that weaponry only for the vampiric woman to press her fingers agianst those points and slive open that flesh of her own hand.

"Careful, Darlin'...."

Darcy's own gaze shifted readily to his lovers hand. The scent of her blood prompting his own saliva to near flood his mouth and yet how quick he was to swallow it. Risque so clearly having intended to bleed all along. Darcy merely watching silently once more as her hand streaked that bloodied print across its cheek like her own form of brand. Those words musing from her lips once more. She desired to see it hunt. Darcy careful to conceal that hesitation once more. To control it here and now was hardly difficult. Draning, but not difficult. To command it in battle agianst a vampire would take far more power then he had expended before and yet he so refused to allow but even a hint of that weakness once more. It would not do to irritate her. Her gaze turning back upon him then. Darcy's own mismatched eyes meeting her levelly. Obediently. Those further words of praise for his creation only furthering his own satisfaction. Even he could hardly deny the delight he would take in watching that Cat tear Blue Moon apart with little capable of stopping it. Cade's hounds no match for its metal force. Risque so at last admitting that he had grown stronger, that she was impressed. Darcy relishing in that very praise.

"Thank you, Darlin'. Ya know I dun like to displease ya."

He had always been her favourite. He knew it. This was only further proof. She never praised the others. Never spoke of how they impressed her. Only him. Yes. Only him. As it should be. Now he need only to prove he was worthy of those very words. The implication in her own honeyd tones hardly missed as she near idly commented upon those new recruits. That simper tugged but briefly at his own lips as Darcy reached to pull his phone from is pocket.

"Randall? Send Max up ta da roof, eh?"

The phone call was ended with the same abruptness, Darcy easily tossing it back into his pocket, his gaze shifted to his mistress once more.

"Dis Max, he ain't much use. Tinks he's real smart. Tink's he knows it all. Won't be much of a loss."

He could be easily replaced by someone better, someone stronger, someone more willing to listen. Max content enough to follow commands....in his own good time. Darcy having already come to blows with him on several occasions. His choice in this victim so prompted by his own dislike of the man and yet....how far from foolish Darcy truly was. Max was young. His powers under-developed, his strength hardly at its peak. Max an easy target for his metal cat. One who would go down with little fight compared to those more season vampires. One whom would make his Machines victory look all the more impressive without so revealing Darcy had chosen the weakest of those recruits. A truth Risque hardly needed to know. Darcy near assured he could control that cat well enough to take down that youngling. His attention shifted back to his own creation then, his hand flicking idly in silent command. That cat eased gently backward and away from Risque, its forepaws landing back down on the concrete below before it broke into a lope, crossing that parking lot and the quiet road outside only to disappear into the trees and shadows. Darcy coaxing that creature to settle back own its haunches and down onto its belly. Its headlight ears turning off. The cat near invisible in the darkness now. That near knowing glance given to Risque before the sound of that rooftop door opening drew his attention. A young, rangy blonde vampire chewing on a stick of gum so appearing in the doorway, his eyes shifting from Darcy to Risque and back again.

Whadda want? I'm missing me show.
"Your Mistress 'as lost one of 'er pets. We want ya to get it back for 'er."
Can't she just fucking summon it or whatever?
"Its a new pet. It's still learnin' ta listen. It went into dem bushes 'cross da road. Now go an git it before I geld ya and add yar balls ta da pool table."

Darcy's lips peeled ever so slightly back from his fangs, that singular flesh of teeth prompting that glower from that surly, teenage vampire, the boy muttering beneath his breath before storming past them both to vault from the roof and down into the lot below. Darcy moving then to rest beside Risque at that railing. The Southern vampire so daring to allow that ever-telling simper to find his lips. Max strode easily through that lot and over the road to pause on the edge of thsoe trees. Here stupid kitty, kitty. That lack of enthusiasm in his voice so surely giving away his thoughts on this very task. Darcy's fingers drummed easily agianst the metal rail. The vampire merely content to watch his 'prey' as Max crept further and further into those trees. That very suspense nothing short of delightful to that predator within himself. That very energy from Risque into turn only feeding his own as Max slid closer and closer. Those headlight eyes suddenly flaring to life with near blinding force. That yelp from Max was drowned out by that screeching roar, the young vampire attempting to stumble backward and shield his eyes from the glare all at once before that cat lunged. Darcy so hardly made any effort to engage the felines teeth, its head colliding solidly with the young vampire before being thrown upward. Max rendered airbourne. The vampire sent flying across the road before slamming into that car park and sent skidding through the gravel.

The bleeding, bruised vampire scrambled near hurriedly to his feet as the feline lunged from the trees now in a display of mechanical mastery, the cat racing across the ground in a truly impressive display of speed to close the distance between itself and its target once more. That vampire near to stunned to move. The Cat's jaws parted, those teeth lunging for max now only for that vampire to dodge in the last moment. The machine cat tearing a chunk of cement from the road as Darcy cursed beneath his breath. The cat tossing that concrete aside as if it weighed no more than a pillow. Call it off, call it off! How little Darcy truly cared for those cries. That cat lunging again only for Max to dodge a second time. Fast little shit. A roar out irritation spat free of cats lips then, the creature lunging forward once more only to land and pivot, its tail, this time, used as a weapon. Darcy readiy having judged just where Max would attempt to dodge, that tail connecting with him firmy and sending him flying into the nearest wall as the cat spun. Max tumbling spluttering and panting to the earth below. A rumbling purr rose within that cats throat then as it stalked forward with slow, purposeful, practised strides. Darcy near sweating from the effort now and yet how very close that victory was. Im sorry ok, Im sorry! Just.....please.

Those cries fell on deaf ears once more. Max's efforts to flee a final time met with the sudden slash of the cats claws. Max gashed open from hip to shoulder as those screams filled the night air- his body tossed like a rag doll onto one of those nearby cars. That cat pouncing almost playfully after him as if toying with that very meal. The bloodied vampire struggled atop that car roof to pull himself into a sitting position, his body rapidly trying to heal and yet hardly given to chance as the machine cats jaws snapped closed around him, one foot severed instantly by those metal fangs. The unfortunate Max caged within as the cat lifted its head upward as if to display its bloodied, caged prize to Risque- before the rumble of those engines started. The metal cat's throat made of little save for gears, each of them beginning to spin and grind like a series of buzz saws. The cats head was abruptly thrown backward, the unfortunate vampire within sent tumbling into that grinding, spinning gear 'throat'. Blood and sinew sent flying in every direction like a veritable explosion. Max ground into utter nothingness as that fabricated feline shook itself before abruptly proceeding to sit one paw lifted upward, that tongue, made of folded seat belts, attempting to lick its paws clean as if wholly satisfied by the utter carnage it has caused. Darcy himself using that railing to hold himself up. That sheer use of energy clearly having taken its toll. The Southern vampire in need of practice with using so much off his own power. This the first time he had ever asked so much of that affinity. The man attempting to appear far less exhausted then he was. Risque offered that grin all the same.

"Dare might even be summin' left for da others."

His head nodded toward that parking lot, several of those other WereCats having slunk from within the gloom to steal what pieces of flesh they could find. Darcy's own, at last satisfied with its cleaning efforts, wrapped itself tail about its paws before resting upon its belly once more. Its eyes dimming again.

"I need a lil practice still but I dun tink dat was bad for its first effort, eh? Ah, yay got some blood on ear dare, Darlin'."

He lent easily forward, a singular finger lifted gently to the left side of her neck to wipe that blood from it, that touch wholly gentle. A stark contrast to that violence around them Darcy examined that crimson liquid upon his fingers beneath the moonlight before smearing them together if only to feel it. That warm wetness oddly appealing. That scent tugging at his own ravenous hunger. One finger lifted to his lips then as if to steal a taste of that fallen foe. His tongue brushing over it.

"Hmm. He dun taste dat good. I ain't surprised. He was stealin' from ya dough. Dat much I know. I can taste something' else in his blood, somethin' better den what I'd been feeding dem new boys. I think he's had a go at some of the private blood stash. Either dat or he's taken a bit outta one of our customers. Little wretch. He's better off as mince meat."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.