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| - A man in black sat on a park bench in the middle of Karakura Town, completely uncaring that most people didn't even glance directly at him. Not that such a thing would bother him anymore, he was a ghost, unable to be seen in the first place. If he could be seen however, his garb would instantly stand out; a long coat with gold around the collar. On the left side of his coat was a golden cross, the sign of his Quincy abilities. Night was falling and that's all he was focused on, because then they came out to feed. Night was the best chance to attack one of those monsters, and after almost eleven thousand years of waiting, he'd get his revenge, bit by bit and body by body. Sure, his means were unjust, but to him, what did it matter? The humans were the cattle to something much larger, and they couldn't be any more ignorant of the truth. Most discounted the, admittedly embellished, tale of his attack on the vampire known as Dracula as mere fiction. Bram Stoker's novel didn't exactly inspire the populace to prepare to fight a force that once ruled the world, but deep down, the man who gave his name to the main character felt pity that the one warning was ignored out of hand. Taking off his hat, he glared into the evening Sun and smiled. The sacking of Atlantis would soon be avenged by a total slaughter of the creatures responsible for his torment. Soon, the world would remember his name and his deeds, Abraham Van Hellsing, the Vampire Slayer. The world was haunted, and this young woman knew it. Obsidian black hair traveled down to her back, waving slightly in the whispering winds. Her jacket flowed outward, the star insignia shining in the moonlight. Her eyes focused and a flame roared within her right eye. After all, it was nighttime when the demons and monsters were most evident, and as their slayer, it was Eleanor's duty to destroy them. Abraham stiffened as a strange energy signature crossed his sensory range. Although it seemed like a Quincy was the source, it felt...wrong to him. He couldn't place the oddity no matter how hard he tried. Something like this warranted a personal observation, his vendetta would wait another night. In the blink of an eye, the oldest Quincy soul vanished in the cool air of the night. Tracking the energy he felt was easy, there was no other like it. What he saw when he arrived to where the source was, he was stunned. A young woman with an azure flame overflowing from her right eye was what met his gaze. "Who...no, WHAT are you child?" was the only question that he could muster in the absurdity of the situation. Eleanor stared at the man that appeared before her. She had no reaction to his presence, but she did understand that he was a Quincy. She also understood that he was pure, and that he was old...very old. But it didn't matter to her, nothing did except for the eradication of evil. Yet, his words hadn't done anything to provoke her, not yet anyways. She simply walked away without answering, before a single step of Hirenkyaku let her flow alongside the wind. No answer. Abraham sighed, his red hair being tossed by the wind. Her use of Hirenkyaku had proven she was Quincy, but, that feeling in the back of his mind just wouldn't leave him alone. He had to know the truth behind her existance. Another flicker of Hirenkyaku, this time just following the trail the female Quincy had left in her wake. Even though he expended much less energy with this, he still dared not approach too close, lest he scare her into fleeing. Unsure of whether the girl was friend or foe, Abraham didn't want to don the cursed mask fragment that was truly a reminder of the heart he almost lost that horrid day, even if wearing it did amplify his power to the point the strange Quincy would never be able to escape him. It was just a tasteless shortcut to obtaining the information he desired to know. Eleanor turned backward to see the man still following her. He was irksome, that she could tell. He was also, very probably, curious. So, Eleanor decided to appease his curiosity, and quickly altered her path to step on the ground again. She waited for the man to come behind her so that she could answer his questions and then leave. Abraham stood behind the girl, having altered his own flight path to put some space between them. "Now then, child. Exactly what are you? Your movement technique suggest Quincy, but in eleven thousand years, give or take a few centuries, I've never felt anything like the aura you give off. I'm sorry for being so blunt, but as you heard, I'm old and I've been alone for ages. My social graces are, what's the word...lacking? Yes, lacking would be a perfect word." Eleanor looked at the man...in slight admiration. He didn't sugarcoat his words, and he was being perfectly honest. Perhaps age really did make some individuals wizened. Nonetheless, she answered blatantly, "I was forged." Those three words were all she needed to convey her message. "Forged huh? Somebody made you into a weapon. What kind of sick dastards would use a child like you to kill? Not even in our darkest hour did the High Guards, the most elite Quincy of the time, dare to dream of such a barbaric ideal. Forgive me if I get too personal, but do you remember who it was who did this to you? The men responsible, who were they?" Although Abraham didn't design to hazard a guess, one name kept cropping up, Vandenreich. They seemed very likely the ones would would stop at nothing to "purge" the Shinigami from the history books, even something as cruel as "forge" a weaponized child. "Yes." Eleanor told the man, and then proceeded to say one more thing, "I killed them already." She continued, before looking at the man in the eye again. She could tell he was...different. In a good or bad way, was debatable. Abraham blinked a few times. Her words, few as they were, were void of a humorous intent. So much, that he took them at face value. "Killed? Then you gave them their just rewards. I hope that you feel no guilt or shame in exacting your vengance from their flesh. Any and all who would sink so low as force one so young to draw a weapon deserve what they get. You were just a hastening of that fate. And to be honest with you, I'm thankful you did it. That should serve as a lesson, a dark one, but one all the same." "I do not require words." Eleanor simply said, in response to the man's reaction. "I am what you might call a 'Demon Slayer'. Their deaths were a simple execution." Eleanor began walking away when she asked, "Anything else, mister?" Again, the girl stunned Abraham. Again with the detached, blatent tone that defies all doubt. "Demon Slayer? I have heard there were demonic entities in this world, but not once had I estimated there were enough to warrent a 'slayer' to be created. But no, I don't require another answer, unless you wouldn't mind indulging a request. Show me, weapon born by hands who now lie dead in the grave, the results of your 'forging'. I'm curious as to what a 'Demon Slayer' is capable of."
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