I am writing yet again, after less than a month. I suppose you might be relieved to hear that, as it is evident that I have not died yet. I was, however, almost fatally wounded by one of my colleagues - Kiyala. It appears that she is on a mission to assassinate me ... but why? It perplexes me, and I am slightly more worried than usual, as she is almost a pure vampire. If her vampiric side were to take over her body ... Well, then we'd have a lot more corpses to bury. I hired a hacker named Spyda today, as I've found that he does very good work in the past. It cost me a fair bit of Gauld, though, as he is a S-rated criminal who would steal from his own mother if he thought it would do him good. Good thing I paid him, too, as I found out a lot more about Kiyala than I would've found myself. I input the data I found below:
Name: Kristie Johnson
Alias: Kiyala
Age: 25
Blood Type: HG
Race: Half-blood; human genome
Clan: Pyre
Employer: Solixis, Pieride
Current Job: Assassin

It has been - yet again, another long while since I last wrote. I suppose my advisor would be gravely displeased with me had he not passed on years ago. If you're finicky enough as to wonder why I've taken such a long absence from my last message, it is because I am on a "secret" mission for Solixis. My fourteenth, in fact. Amazing isn't it? I've been here for less than half a year, and already I have completed more than what most normally do. Unfortunately, I cannot boast as it is my blood that gives me this ability, and most of the claim can go towards the scientific organization that assisted in birthing me. Anyway, I'm chasing after a couple this time. Emmeline Czarak and Ambrose Derwenshire; two vampires who have been murdering people across the continent. According to Cage, they've been wanted for a while, but Solixis has only started to take interest in the two since they were found to have been accomplices in the drug dealings with Persperia, our top rival in the business. So far, tracking them has been quite difficult. They've been quite successful in avoiding the syndicate, which is why they even bothered to pay me a decent wage of 10,000 gauld in exchange for hauling both in alive. Well, I'll continue my tale the next time I write, as Cage is sending over some files on the two. Unfortunately, I have no more time to waste writing down these petty situations. 'Till the next time I find time to write.

I hunted the first of my victims today. Her name was Riza Amortencia. Her bloodfather, Oelyn, is one of the strongest of the four vampire clans. He is known for his manipulative skills, and his stunning beauty. All vampires are astoundingly beautiful. Once a human has turned, all their flaws are erased and they become striking beings that emit a challenging aura. They remain pale, with amber-black eyes until they have reached a semblance of control over their powers. At this time, they learn to shape the air around their figures; changing their features with the power of illusion. It is a simple enough task - even I can change my appearance with the power of my mind ... but perhaps that is only the result of years of training. I have, in fact, been training to fight vampires since I was three years of age. I was born in a training facility to one of the adolescent witches being bred with imprisoned half-bloods. My mother had no name; only a code number, and the darkened blood that tainted her womb killed her. Had the genome facility not saved me, I would not be here today ...

It has been a while since I last wrote - a time that has been prolonged by the intense training and rigid rules Solixis forces me to follow. I stayed the night at a cheap-looking motel whose blinking signs were a result of broken glass and previous fights. I suppose I should have chosen a better establishment, but considering the amount of gauld "The Agency" gave me, I didn't have much of a choice. The bastards there never give you quite enough to do anything. I've found that there is no point in relying on the spades there as they never really know what they're doing. Spades, in case you are inclined to ask, are witch agents that work for "The Agency". Yes, they were rather creative when they thought up the name 300 years ago, weren't they? Anyway, back to the present. I stayed the night, paid for the dingy room, and left as soon as I could the next day. Remember the little cafe I wrote about in my last entry? As I presumed: simply divine. Their coffee is great; really need to keep the place in mind. It's a little place filled with curiosities, both alive and dead. A few ghosts, a few witches, a lone hunter. But that's what you'd expect: hunters travel on their own, never staying in one place for too long. It's risky that way. You can rely on what I'm saying, as I'm a hunter. A vampire hunter to be precise. Now, why would Solixis need a vampire hunter? Yes, that is a question that has passed through my mind more than once. I don't doubt that there is something very wrong occuring there at the moment; there is a lingering sense of derision that seems to cling to every inch of the headquarters. I met with Aeon, the lower associate from the syndicate, yesterday. She's plainly and simply someone that you don't want to cross. She's got a bit of strange blood in her - gives her this intimidating aura. Anyway, she really seemed anxious and didn't ... particularly seem to like me. I questioned a fellow named Cage later on; it seems that I'm replacing a dead woman who died on the loose; against the syndicate. I suppose it was better that she died sooner rather than later though ... the syndicate does not look lightly on those who disobey. They require unquestionable loyalty and determination. Had the woman survived, she would have faced immediate execution through means that I cannot even begin to imagine.

First Impressions

My adviser used to have to remind me to write down my experiences. Nowadays, I feel that I have no time for such aggravating luxuries, but I find that no matter how scatterbrained I'm feeling, I always remember to log on to my holoscan and write a few words.I was feeling an alarming amount of excitement today; surprisingly enough. Today, if you are wondering, was the day I was to meet my future employer. Of course, I shouldn't have expected so much, considering my uncanny habit of wandering into strange situations.In the morning, I set out from my hotel with my black satchel, and nothing but an address on a small piece of worn parchment. Of course, I could've taken the tunnels, as they are much faster, but I decided to take a more scenic route by paying for a busfly. The city is pretty, I have to admit, with its tall buildings and architecture reminiscent of ancient structures from the twenty-first century.After strolling around a small little park next to an enchantingly quaint cafe for about half an hour, I arrived at the hidey-hole of Solixis. It was quite ... how do you say, disappointing. I would've thought that the most powerful syndicate in the world would have been a bit more intriguing. As it was, all I saw was an iron gate circling an old, black building.I suppose I was feeling slightly indignant at this point, but rather nervous. All sorts of questions flew about my mind. I walked towards the building warily, and pulled open the heavy glass door, with the assistance of a golden knob, adorned with a roaring lion at its tip.The building was silent. Its high rafters were penetrated only by gleaming skylights that pulsed with vibrant energy. The long, echoed corridors were layered with what seemed to be a variety of luminescent, sparkling hazel tiles. I tapped them with my knuckles gingerly. Marble. I was slightly surprised: marble had become very rare these days, and was only found in the most prestigious establishments across the continent. I shrugged my shoulders, and allowed my blond hair to ripple down my back. Perhaps there was a receptionist of a sort. I continued walking until the sound of holographic beeps met my ears.I turned towards the sound, walking faster now. As my curious eyes met the harrowed form of a speckled man in his late thirties, I ducked behind a cream-coloured pillar. He was a rather boring specimen: one of the types who believe themselves to be a most valuable asset. His long, delicate, clear-painted nails were trimmed into round circles, and shone as though he had just finished buffing them. His shaved chin was jutted out slightly, and his plump lips pursed in concentration. I almost laughed at his expression.The tag on his navy pantsuit declared him a Mr. Ivan Fallingbrook. I stored this little trinket of information in my mind as I stared at him from behind the pillar. A flash of light above his head temporarily distracted me for a moment, but when I blinked, the suspicious shine had disappeared. With a determined glance at the Fallingbrook fellow, I walked up to the desk."Excuse me, Mr. Fallingbrook." He didn't even bother looking up at me. I frowned mentally."Excuse me," I repeated more loudly. This time, his eyebrows twitched.I shook my head in aggravation. If he wasn't going to talk to me, then I wouldn't bother attempting talk to him. I glared at the patch of pink surrounded by thick, brown curls as I propped my body against a nearby wall. I stood, and waited; minute after minute. Finally, I broke the silence."Excuse me," I repeated with annoyance.He finally answered me, wariness keen in his beautiful blue eyes. "What is your business.""I'm the replacement, Aille Morangbro."For a few seconds, he was silent. Perhaps I should have mentioned the name of the woman I was replacing? But he finally answered, "I see."I could tell he was one of the prodigy doubters - one of the many scholars that don't believe that children can be as intellectually inclined as adults. After about five minutes, though, he finally fought through his thickness and pride by plucking up a small phone and dialing for the syndicate.For a few seconds, my first impression of him swept away. As he gazed at me with something like sincerity from below thick eyebrows, I believed he felt apologetic about our earlier conflict. This thought was quickly diminished when he had the gall to warn me, Aille Morangbro, about the danger of Solixis. As though I were but a child!There isn't much more to say, other than the fact that he bade me 'go away' and told me to return the next day. I have to admit, I have got a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. If all the fellows at Solixis are half as stuffy and thick-headed as Fallingbrook, I'll be very sorry for taking on this client indeed.