Lady of Misfortune [Kerry/Closed]

[Adelaide Kingsford]

10:00 A.M.
1st of February, 2013 A.D.
Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, Richmond Upon Thames

Nearly two weeks had passed since Adelaide found her life flipped entirely upside down by a series of events that pushed her understanding of herself and the world around her to the breaking point. All it took for her reality to be practically torn apart at the seams was a chance encounter with a young man, one Alexander Stone, who claimed to belonged to a special race of people born with the innate ability to slay the denizens of Hell, the various demons and devils that could also wander the realm of men, as she had learned firsthand. To make the whole ordeal stranger, the blond gentleman asserted that she, too, was a Demon Hunter, much like he was, as well as her late father.

Alas, the life of an attorney at law was not a leisurely one, and even though the incident resurfaced itself within her thoughts from time to time, the lady Kingsford simply wasn't able to make enough room in her agenda to do a little research on the subject. For the past fourteen days or so, Adelaide spent her time preparing a case with her latest client, a thirty-something business man who had his automobile all but completely totaled by a hotheaded driver who had one too many pints. Had the police arrived too late, chances were solid that he would also be suing for medical damages in addition to vehicle liability.

Currently, the well-dressed woman was situated on a steel bench that overlooked the Kew Gardens greenhouse and reflecting pool, where she peacefully held a conversation with her client over the phone. At her side was a professional-looking briefcase, which contained a laptop computer as well as documents and files pertaining to the case at hand. A coal black umbrella sat poised on her lap; weather reports indicated that a light shower was imminent, and she wanted to avoid getting her good suit wet. Cleaning it was a hassle by itself.

"Of course," Adelaide muttered through the sending speaker of her cell phone, nodding as the man on the other line stated his intentions of ending the call due to issues on his end. "Absolutely. We can discuss this later today." Another break in dialogue passed before she resumed, "Certainly. Have a good day." Using her thumb, she ended the call with a press of the "End" button, glancing up at the gloomy gray sky before returning to her contacts list. Ever since that whole Cornell snafu, Adelaide was forced to search all over London for a suitable replacement chauffeur before finding potential in a young woman named Elizabeth Smart.

A few button pressed later led the lawyer in the black suit to the lady's name, and one more instigated the outgoing call tone, prompting her to lift her phone to her ear. "Hello?" answered Elizabeth after a two second delay. "Good morning, Elizabeth." Adelaide greeted her with a smile in her voice. "Can I request you to come pick me up? I'm at the Kew Gardens, and it looks like it might rain soon." "Of course, Miss Kingsford. I'm on my way." "Wonderful. I'll see you shortly." Ending the call, the blonde woman pocketed her phone and sat there patiently, waiting for her ride to show up with her rain shield on standby.

[Kerry Fitzhenry]

5:00am
Backpack:
Pipe Bomb x4
C4 Bomb x1
Time Bomb x1
The Undertaker

"Get back here you little shit!" The high pitched voice of a tall Ritualist called out, followed by several more grunts of conversation and riffraff, but this single voice was clearly defined as the leader of the group. The others quieted when he spoke, and he spoke the loudest alone. "Fuck off!" A smaller voice yelled back, covered in a thick southern Irish accent. Fusing with a dangerously volatile explosive in one hand and a container of lighter fluid in another, the target wasn't having much luck soaking the bomb. Come on come on! The flammable liquid spilled all over the factory floor. Or, what was left of a factory, anyways. A bolt of fire hit the puddle, causing it to combust into a small incendiary explosion that just brushed the bottom of the girl's boot. Fuck, amalgams?!

Not thinking twice, instead of fussing with her lighter and the fluid, she threw the pipe shaped explosive into the fire and sprinted forward as fast as she could. Just barely escaping the blast that surely must've at least obstructed her pursuer's path and given her some more time. I can handle this, ya know, better than you can. The last thing Kerry needed was that pestering, not at this time, not now. Ignoring the demonic voice in her head, the purple haired girl ran as fast as she could while attempting to avoid the various old debris. it also became apparent that earlier's explosion shook the foundation of the ancient factory, causing it to start to crumble. Now she had the issue of falling concrete, and that just wouldn't do. A large chunk of this rock like substance fell to her right, just missing her arm, which would've surely of taken it clean off. She heard accented screams, and it appeared that the Ritualists got what had been coming to them. A terrible fate, really.

Kerry saw an opprotunity to take a break, assuming most of the attackers were dead. She took a moment to adjust herself, fixing her eyepatch that had moved out of place during all of the chaos. "A relentless bunch..." The Irish lass said through heavy breath. Just as she was about to relax and catch her breath, she felt a tight grip grab her ankle. Looking down, she was horrified to see the face of a torn apart Ritualist, possessed or bonded or whatever by his demon. It was more of a corpse than anything, really, as it was clearly a victim of a direct hit from earlier's bomb. Nails were stuck in his bloody face and his right forearm was missing entirely. "I'll rip your fucking leg off!" With that, the crazed corpse ripped Kerry off of her feet, causing the back of her head to hit the hard floor and almost knocking her cold. I'm not asking! Suddenly and without a fight, the girl's single eye changed to a dull red as she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small silver object. With a flick of her small wrist, the object was extended into a blade, and then jabbed into the possessed's skull, making a nice hole right in his temple. She, or rather the demon controlling her body, twisted and stabbed the head repeated times before it no longer moved. A messy business, really.

Getting back to her feet, the girl now took another bomb from her bag and doused it in lighter fluid with ease now stationary. With a few clicks, she threw the explosive in the general direction from where she ran from, hopefully clipping a few more of the fanatic bastards on their way out. And it did more than that, as the entire complex collapsed. This would probably be all over the news later.

10:09am

The Kew Botanical Gardens certainly was a place to catch one's breath. It's vast gardens and fields were truly fit for a queen, and surely no bloodthirsty Ritualist would bother to look for her in such a place. The whole place just seemed to reek of a peaceful and calm aura. It was honestly refreshing, a change in pace. For once everything didn't smell like gasoline and dried blood. The flowers...maybe this is what the world will smell like if war ever seizes to exist. If demons and Inferis and all that truly didn't exist. A nice thought, but an unlikely one. They were there. And they likely always would be.

Kerry had the chance to wash herself before coming here, no longer covered in blood, but still giving off the slight scent of gunpowder. She walked with her hands in her pockets, only occasionally checking her cell phone, a cheap pay per use thing as it was all she could really afford, all it did was text and call from a restricted number. The Irish born didn't even really know why she was checking it as she gave out her number to very few people, not wanting it to accidentally get back to the Dublin Truth. Looking up, it appeared that the calm morning wouldn't last for long. It was about to rain, again. It seemed to rain every damn day in this country.

The Ritualist's eye was caught by a single bystander, the first one that actually stood out. An apparently rich lady from what could be told from her method of dress, which was a sharp contrast to her own, which was composed of simple cargo pants and a black tank top. This blonde woman seemed approachable, so the seventeen year old made her way by her, sitting at a bench directly across from her. Looking the taller female up and down, she finally came to speak, once more in her thick accented voice, "Happen to catch the news this mornin'?" Simple small talk, but she was also curious to see if today's earlier explosion made it's way there. It's not like she personally would be on telelvision but hell, a little media attention was always fun.

[Adelaide Kingsford]

A speck of concern for the brewing thunderheads over London settled in the green of Adelaide's eyes as she glanced down to check the clock of her cellular phone. Ten minutes had whizzed right on by since she made the call to her new chauffeur, but Elizabeth had yet to show up. The lawyer never was the impatient type, but when the threat of being rained on loomed over one's head, literally and figuratively, people tend to get a little antsy during a waiting period. "Come on, then..." She muttered at subsonic pitch, jiggling her legs up and down in her anxiety.

The low rumble of thunder, almost inaudible to those too occupied with their own devices, rolled in the distance. The downpour hadn't started yet, but it was a telltale sign of the storm's approach. Even the very air ran thick with the scent of rain, which became too much for the blonde woman to think about as she depressed a button on her umbrella's handle, deploying the canopy and lifting its curved frame above her head with a sigh as she pulled her briefcase closer to her legs.

Adelaide, having been too focused on the incoming nasty weather, had failed to notice that another person, a young woman, had situated herself opposite of her. It was this newcomer that eventually broke the silence with a question, a thick Irish brogue practically dripping from her voice like viscous molasses. "Happen to catch the news this mornin'?" The sudden break in silence greatly startled the solicitor, whom let out a comedic yelp as she flailed in her seat, snapping her saucer-like eyes in the teenager's direction to catch a better glimpse of her before lowering her guard.

Vibrant purple hair and tomboyish attire with a heavy military theme contrasted Adelaide's expensive imported suit and patent leather monks, but what truly set the two of them apart was the inclusion of a conspicuous pad over the other girl's left eye, hinting the very likely possibility that she might have lost it—not that the lawyer was trying to stare or anything; truth be told, hiding such a physical dysfunction is more of a challenge than most are willing to believe. If anything, this stranger had the solicitor's unyielding sympathy.

"R-Right... Terribly sorry for that, then..." She stuttered, her boyish cheeks turning rosy red with embarrassment for her dramatic reaction to her innocent inquiry. What did she want now? Oh, right. The news. "I normally don't read the Telegraph." Nor did she watch the television on a frequent basis, either. Truth was, Adelaide preferred getting up to speed on local and world events through the Internet. "I'm quite sorry, really." My God, that was so awkward.

With a few deep breaths, Adelaide had sequentially straightened up her tie and brushed her blazer down with the knuckles on the hand that held her phone, quick to put on her social mask and be as professional and courteous as she could. The fact that she was Irish never bothered her, either, as it did with a wide majority of British people; it was Adelaide's duty to represent anyone—and that really meant anyone—who wanted to afford her skills in the courtroom.

[Kerry Fitzhenry]

As Kerry sat down, it seemed to startle the professionally dressed woman. She never was one with introductions or simple hellos, and perhaps that would've been the socially correct thing to do at first. Oh well, the teenager shrugged in her head and not physically, feeling rather indifferent about the subject of "manners" and "etiquette". She was never really taught them, as her father was the same exact way, and the Devil knows what her mother was even like. Terrible ordeal that was, really.

The Ritualist's eye looked over the lady's shoulder, focusing on a black painted truck that had rolled up to the gardens at an alarmingly quick rate. It was probably just a couple guys late to work or something, so for the time being, she forgot about it. Kerry's discolored iris turned back to the blonde, whom was at the very moment looking at her eye patch, only to quickly glance away as she was spotted. It was a little strange, or a peculiar thing to see, as many would only expect to see somebody with an eyepatch in a war movie or on a stolen vessel. The teenager was just glad it wasn't commented on. "R-Right... Terribly sorry for that, then..." The woman finally said something in her native accent, a thing to be expected in London. The purple haired teenager felt relief as she saw that the woman was also experiencing a little initial discomfort.

"No problem." Kerry replied instantly and mechanically to the professional's statement. Man, she really needed to think of something to call this lady. "I normally don't read the Telegraph." No luck here. She should have just gotten up right there, and left, right there. But for whatever reason, the Ritualist stuck around with this probably busy blonde Brit. "I'm quite sorry, really." So polite she was. "And again, no problem." Her eye turned back over the suit's shoulder, noticing that the men from the van were starting to get a little closer, and that they were looking for somebody. They also seemed to be...armed? Shouldn't the police be doing something about this?

Upon closer inspection, it came to her attention that these individuals were police. Or, at least dressed like police, because why would law officials be driving around in a spray-painted pedophile van. Weird, right, anyways. I, you, well, we should probably get out of here." Kerry stuttered, coming out of her lax posture and standing on her feet as the men came closer yet. They seemed to focus their attention on the two females, no longer mindlessly searching and now aggressively marching to their area. Angry chatter would be heard, no words were clear, but thick Gaelic accents were. One raised what appeared to be a weapon and aimed it towards the purple haired Ritualist, firing a single shot that pierced the bench, of course causing her to jump. Shit, are they seriously doing this here? In the middle of London?

"Now." She said to the blonde, knowing that their kind will likely attempt to kill her as well, for no real reason except for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. After this statement, she would run opposite of the attackers, not wanting to risk exposure by using her amalgam in public, which could either potentially save or damn her. Kerry would wind through the lovely gardens, not having enough time to admire them, but using them in a hopeful attempt to disorient or even lose the men.

Running. Always running...

[Adelaide Kingsford]

The girl with purple hair didn't sound the least bit concerned with the lawyer's apologetic stuttering or her habit of neglecting to read the paper every morning, responding with an almost perfunctory drawl to her words. It was as if she hadn't really applied any effort towards paying attention to her responses; Adelaide could clearly see her lone eye darting glances over her shoulder, sufficient visual proof that she was far more focused on what was going on behind the suit-wearing woman. She was never presented with an opportunity to point out her lack of simple courtesy as the girl with the eyepatch suddenly rose to her feet, eye still glued to events outside of her line of sight. "I, you, well, we should probably get out of here."

The lawyer's ears were swift to pick up a multitude of jabbering voices that resounded on the far side of where she currently sat, all of which were caked in an Irish accent similar to the purple-haired teenager's, but far more incensed based on what Adelaide was able to pick up; they sounded irate and unforgiving, almost to the point of coming off as vindictive. CRACK! PING! The blonde woman yelped as the unmistakable noise of gunfire rang through the air, with a sizable dent spontaneously being formed on the bench parallel from her own. "Now." "Oh, my God!" Within a single movement, Adelaide scooped up her umbrella and briefcase within her hands, still clutching at her cellular, before breaking into a panicked sprint.

Common sense advised against running for life alongside the young lady with the eyepatch, as that would only serve to increase the likelihood of the both of them getting shot to death by these gun-toting maniacs. With that in mind, a frightened Adelaide chose to branch off and make her way toward the densely packed trees near the Palm House, hoping to use the shadows to obscure herself from the Irish attackers and lay low until the proper authorities arrived. And she had a means to contact them, as well!

It took Adelaide every ounce of her endurance to reach her chosen hiding spot, looking around hastily until she was absolutely certain that none of the armed men had followed her. Ducking into a cluster of shrubberies for safe measure, she flipped open her phone and punched in the number for the Metropolitan Police Service, understandably waiting impatiently until the operator had finally picked up. "Hello? I'm calling to report a group of armed men at the Kew Gardens in Richmond upon Thames," Adelaide explained as best as her wavering composure allowed, hoping and praying to the higher powers all the while that the aforementioned armed men wouldn't find her, or the purple-haired girl.

What was going on? And why was she getting caught up in all of this?

[Kerry Fitzhenry]

Kerry could only watch as the blonde ran off in a different direction, something that may or may not be hazardous to her depending on the attacker's strategy. And this, of course, being a pair of unstable Ritualists, changed erratically, making the unpredictable. She decided to not yell after the woman, instead focusing on he rown route of escape. At this point, only one thing was on her mind: her motorcycle. These chumps likely parked on the opposite side of the gardens, which would allow for a easy escape. A lot easier said than done, as it always is. The teenager crouched down behind a wall as one of the Ritualists branched off and took after the other female. Ah, so they were risking a split. This was actually good news, as the mentally stable Ritualist took a deep breath and stepped out of cover, clear in the line of fire. The hostile man raised his gun as a crooked grin took over his aged face, showing a few missing and yellowed teeth, likely a result of heavy smoking.

Before he could take the shot, however, Kerry raised her right hand that was scarred with the number one, before it started to rapidly change in a supernatural fashion, something that alone wasn't seen very often, if at all, on Earth. One, two, three, four, five, six, the scars formed all of these numbers before finally slowing down at a three, then swiftly pinging the number four. The teenager let out a sigh of relief, and the Irishman took the shot.

Nothing happened.

The gun wielder was frozen in place, and soon collapsed on the ground with heavy drool from his mouth. One may of thought she dropped him dead with magic, another may think that she froze time around this individual, but realistically she harnessed her bonded demon's powers to shut down his nervous system, temporarily, of course. In fact, the time for which this would last was short, and Kerry took off, jumping over his unmoving body as she made her way towards the other attacker, who was at this point likely making ground on the blonde. Still didn't catch her name. Huh.

Regardless, the teenager came upon the Ritualist before the girl, who she could see vaguely hiding in some foliage, something that this man likely saw through. Stomping her right boot, she yelled out with all of her chest, "Hey! Pick on someone who can actually do somethin', won't ya?" What was she doing? She could've escaped by now and left this girl for the grave. She was normal, a helpless civilian, at least the purple haired girl thought. Too many deaths were already on her head, maybe that was it, and just one more would be too much. The Irishman turned around, there was no running now. He simply laughed and cracked his knuckles, disregarding her taunt. "I'm warnin' ya!" More bluffs, though this one held less power than the previous one, something anybody could pick up. Glancing to her right, she noticed that the previously fallen man had gotten back up and was now approaching her side, firearm in hand.

"Hold on, I got this." The younger of the two, and apparently unarmed man, finally spoke, signaling to his partner to hold his fire, in which he did. Well, that was kinda lucky. Kinda. Taking off his aviator sunglasses, the man revealed a pair of bright orange eyes that seemingly glowed with some sort of strange energy. A strange symbol of likely Infernal origin lit up just as his eyes did above his right brow as his hand caught on fire. Raising it up towards the sky, he then suddenly acted as if he were throwing a baseball, which not too much to Kerry's surprise was followed up by an orb of flames. Just narrowly jumping out of the way and on the ground, the Ritualist was forced to quickly sit up and scoot away from the growing flames. Luckily for England, the beautiful garden's anti-fire system was activated almost immediately, turning on the sprinklers and dousing the flames.

It was only a temporary benefit, though, and she was in a Kerry position.

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