Brady's Inn

In the center of bustling Nyx City, one of the largest cities behind The Veil, where the sun never shone and the streets always hummed with life, a small inn stood alone in a simple alley near the marketplace, like a relic of a bygone era. Its exterior, weathered and worn, hinted at a rich history. The bricks bore the marks of time's passage, while the windows were dark and tinted, offering no view of what happened inside. A faded sign swung gently above the door, its letters spelling out the name "Brady's Inn" in weathered script. Each creak of the sign echoed through the narrow alley, adding an eerie feeling to the inn's aesthetic. Despite its aged appearance, Brady's Inn exuded a certain charm, drawing in those who enjoyed "vintage" places as patrons – although its real purpose was different; Brady's Inn was a haven for the city's underbelly and most – if not all – criminals, schemers and opportunists in the city could be found there. As a group of weary vagrants approached, the small building seemed to loom before them.

Inside the inn, Myra Hindley tended the bar, her presence both alluring and intimidating. Behind the polished wooden counter, she stood tall and confident, her platinum blonde hair cascading in waves around her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, sparked with a mischievous glint, while her crimson lips were almost always curled into a demure smile. Every movement she made was deliberate, from the way she polished the glasses to the subtle way she leaned against the counter, exuding an air of grace and elegance. Yet, beneath her poised exterior, there was a hint of something much darker.

As she worked, her fingers traced the edge of the bar, occasionally dipping beneath its surface to caress something hidden from view. She momentarily looked down at her slightly shaking hand. She has been ill for almost a month now, ever since the day Lucius asked her to abduct and replace a man named Constantine St. John. Of course, the Myra Constantine knew was a kind old widow that lived in that building for years; the creature that took on her form that day had disposed of her but kept her name. Such is the way of the shapeshifters. They have no names, nor identities until they reach maturation; then they take the name of the first person they replace. Their real form has never been revealed to anyone outside their race; rumors about it range from monstrous to amorphous. All they need to transform into someone – or something – is to consume a part of the body, ranging from a drop of blood to the whole thing, depending on preferences.

Shapeshifters live in a tight – knit community, living largely in secret. They are not exactly being hunted down but everybody is weary of them and doesn't want to interact with them – a natural thing given their nature and abilities. They make their living as assassins, spies, and pawns, usually employed by noble mages and elite Nightkin. Myra's mission was to consume Constantine's blood and take his place long enough for Lucius' little council to study him; however, after she clawed him with a partial transformation and drank his blood, she fell down, convulsing, unable to maintain her form. If it weren't for Lucius appearing out of nowhere to extract her, she would have met her end there. Originally, she was supposed to minorly scratch him by accident, distracting him with a fake break in, taking a drop of his blood, and replacing him quickly – using the commotion to mask the transition period so his loved ones won't suspect anything. The thing that made shapeshifters extremely dangerous was their ability to absorb the memories of anyone they consumed, becoming nearly perfect replacements.

However, she saw a bizarre recognition in Constantine's eyes, as if he could see her for what she truly was, and immediately panicked and attacked him. The silver lining was that, through this, they discovered that he could see through magical transformations and that his body was resistant to mana; a silver lining for the mages, that is. Myra nearly died. To make matters worse, the idiots Lucius had working under him let the brat escape, making the whole ordeal feel useless. But Myra wasn't done with Constantine St. John. She just needed to recover for a little while longer. To her, Lucius was her benefactor and savior and there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. She didn't care for his council, his business, and even his mysterious master; she only wanted to please him. She knew Lucius cared for her. He saved her, placed her in Brady's Inn, provided her with treatment and even took her under his wing. She knew little about the Outcasts, but she'd die before letting them ruin his plans.

As she contemplated, the door creaked open, a group of weary men shuffling inside, their clothes dusty and their faces drawn with fatigue. Myra's eyes swept over them, a sly smile curling her lips.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she drawled, her voice cheery and friendly.

The men exchanged nervous glances, their voices hesitant as they spoke up.

"We, um, we're looking for someone named Myra Hindley," one of them admitted, his voice trembling slightly.

Myra's smile widened, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Myra, you say?" she echoed, tapping her fingernails against the counter. "And what makes you think you'll find her here?"

The men shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to answer. "We were told to come here by Lucius," another one offered tentatively, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

At the mention of Lucius's name, Myra's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with interest. "Ah, Lucius," she murmured with a demure smile, leaning forward slightly. "So, you're here for work, I suppose."

The men nodded, their curiosity piqued by Myra's sudden interest. Myra motioned for them to come closer, her demeanor inviting yet tinged with an underlying sense of danger.

"Well then, my darlings, step right up," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "I'm Myra Hindley, at your service!" she said with a bright smile. "Please, follow me," she concluded, leaving the counter and heading into the basement.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, the men followed Myra deeper into the inn, their expressions filled with anticipation. Myra opened the basement door with a key, leading them through the cellar into a corridor filled with small rooms.

"For now, you'll stay here. You'll find clean clothes in the closets. Pick a room, take a bath, and come meet me upstairs within the hour. I'll make you boys a meal and tell you what I need you to do," she said with a beaming smile.

"Yes Ms. Hindley!" one of them said, the rest immediately agreeing. They dispersed, and Myra went back upstairs, a look of satisfaction on her face. Not only did she have more helpers, but she could also use a couple of them as "material".

"Ah, Lucius, always looking out for me", she thought, delighted.