Dancingreaper -v1.02- | -wod-

No fangs. No claws. Just fingers long as candle drippings.

Leo drew his silver knife from his sleeve. "What are you?"

She caught the blade between two knuckles. No blood. No pain. Just a soft, awful smile. DancingReaper -v1.02- -WOD-

"I am version 1.02," she said. "The first one crashed. Too fast. Too much reaping. Now I take my time."

"Dance?" Her voice was a needle scratch on vinyl. No fangs

"She's not Kindred," his contact whispered through the earpiece. "Not Garou. Not even a ghost. Our scans read her as baseline . But the bodies—"

The club had no name. Only a rusted scythe welded above the door, its blade dripping with cheap red LEDs. Leo drew his silver knife from his sleeve

She tilted her head, and for one second, the strobe caught her shadow—not attached to her feet, but leading her, pulling her like a marionette with frayed strings.

Leo had watched her for three nights. Hunter. Veteran. Broken.

The music shifted—something old, something with a 6/8 time signature that pulled at the marrow. She found him immediately. Her eyes were the color of rusted bells. She extended a hand.