Maybe it was the grisly scene I had just bourn witness, or the deep silky voice of the man speaking so coldly calculated about the horrific show, but those words sent a shiver up my spine and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

Turning to face the voice I observed the the man that Jon had called Le Jardinier. He was a tall man, his handsome frame encased in a professional looking suit of black and red, with a mane of light brown hair flowing down past his shoulders and piercing blue eyes. Looking up to meet those eyes I was taken aback by the intensity that he was staring at me with. It was almost as if he was trying to look through me, to gaze into my soul and forcibly tear out any secrets that may have been stored there.

I kept my composure as the man released my shoulder and proceeded to take the chair at the opposite end of the table. As he sat he introduced himself and asked what business a Guardian from the Citadel had in an establishment such as his. He did not ask for my name or any other information about me, only my reason for coming to that nights show. The whole time keeping his gaze locked to mine and radiating the calm power of a man in complete control of his surroundings at all times.

Guardians rarely came into the city proper without a dedicated purpose, and he was ensuring that my purpose did not pose any problems for his establishment.

I explained to him that I was at La Roseraie to study the common people, and that I had gathered quite a lot of valuable information while observing the Burning Passion show. Careful not to say anything that the man may find insulting, as powerful as the Guardians are I was alone and did not know if the person in the hooded cloak was someone working for this man. I needed more information.

I asked if he knew who the hooded figure was standing at the back of the room. He smiled a vicious smile and waved his arm in the air, motioning for the figure to come to the table where we were seated.

As the figure drew nearer and drew back the hood covering their face I saw that it was a young woman. She looked to be around sixteen years old, and she had tattoos covering a large portion of her face and neck. The energy pulsing behind her augmented eyes was intense, and judging from the flush of the skin not covered by tattoos I could tell she was coming down from a euphoric high. Could that have been because of her part in incinerating the dancers during the show?

La Jardinier smiled more broadly and introduced the young woman as Mlle. Epine, one of many in La Roseraie. He explained that she was a runaway that he had taken in and had “cultivated” when he recognized her abilities. The wicked pride in his voice was unmistakeable.

I began to feel uneasy the closer the young woman got to the table and decided it was time to leave. Placing my hands on the table and beginning to rise from my chair, La Jardinier raised his hand to stop me.

He glared into my eyes and stated that he could not let me leave now, the last thing he wanted was to have someone tell the Citadel about his extraordinary young women. Standing himself and turning from the table he made a motion across his neck towards the young woman, who’s eyes began glow the demonic glow of her Inferno augment, and I could feel the temperature in the air surrounding me rise sharply.

Alexander Motus, Guardian # 51