In the dimly-lit VIP room of Webster Hall, Madonna lounged decadently across crimson silk sheets, her ageless pale skin practically glowing in stark contrast. Chaos surrounded her in the aftermath of what she playfully termed her "pajama party" – empty Dom Pérignon bottles worth tens of thousands littered the plush black carpet like fallen soldiers, intermingled with carelessly discarded Versace, Gucci, and Prada pieces that could fund a small nation.
"Mmmm... still so eager after all these hours," she purred throatily, arching as tongues and hands lavished attention across her form. She'd carefully selected this batch of companions – young, beautiful, and absolutely devoted. Their stamina was... impressive, even by her standards. Her supernatural senses picked up two figures by the door before they made their presence known. The delicious scent of warm, ripened human blood made her fangs ache with wanting. "Naughty naughty... lurking in doorways is terribly rude. Don't be shy – come enjoy the view ~"
The female agent wore tactical black, her gear carefully selected to allow maximum mobility while concealing an arsenal. Her expression remained professionally detached despite the debauchery on display. Her male counterpart matched her composure, though his hand never strayed far from what Madonna knew was a custom .45 loaded with silver-tipped hollow points. Useless really – guns might slow her kind down, but death? That gift had been revoked centuries ago.
"I see you're... entertaining yourself as usual," the woman said flatly. Her combat boots made no sound on the carpet – the mark of serious spec ops training. Madonna could smell gunpowder and steel on her, mixed with high-end weapon oil and a hint of fear she tried desperately to mask.
"Jealousy is such an ugly emotion, darling," Madonna's sultry laugh morphed into a gasp of pleasure as skilled hands worked their magic. The price of eternal beauty and power was steep, but moments like these made it worthwhile. "Though I do love to share... room for two more~"
"We're here on business," the male agent interrupted sharply. His voice carried authority, but Madonna could hear his elevated heartbeat. He knew exactly how dangerous she was under all that glamour. Only if the world knew. "There's been an incident. School got hit night before last – local PD is calling it a bear attack."
"How frightfully boring," Madonna drawled, though her eyes sharpened with predatory interest. They wouldn't waste her time with a mere animal attack. This had to be one of her kind – or something equally supernatural. Despite her centuries of unlife, she knew surprisingly little about the society her master came from. He spoke little of it, bound by ancient taboos and politics she didn't fully grasp. "And you're interrupting my morning delight because...?"
"Have any of your... assistants gone missing lately?" The woman's knuckles whitened on her weapon. "Getting sloppy with the turnings perhaps?"
"I am NEVER sloppy," Madonna's voice carried razored steel beneath the breathless pleasure. Her companions worked harder, sensing her mood. "My people know precisely how to control themselves. Unlike some I could mention ~"
"Twenty children, Madonna." The male agent's voice was granite. "Torn apart. Partially consumed. Ring any bells?"
"Sorry loves, I've been rather... preoccupied," she smirked as hands and mouths grew more enthusiastic. She knew the government could only approach her due to her public status. They had no idea where to find her master or the other ancient ones, despite their precious "agreements." "Been tied up with more... pleasant pursuits~~"
"This isn't a game," the woman snapped. "If one of yours has gone feral-"
"Then it's not MY concern anymore, is it?" Madonna's smile showed far too many gleaming teeth. "Now, unless you'd care to join the party...?"
The woman's hand twitched toward her weapon, but her partner's grip on her shoulder stopped her. "Easy," he murmured. "Remember Johnson's team. Remember what happened to them when they broke protocol."
"Smart boy," Madonna purred, stretching languorously. Even as a relatively young by their standards, she was more than capable of slaughtering an entire special forces unit. They'd need one of their precious Order knights to take her down, but the Order wouldn't mobilize for a simple "animal attack." Not yet. Knights have their honour and virtues, and monsters had kept their promise not to drench the world in blood.
"Perhaps he should teach you some manners, dear. So very tense... I know exactly what you need to relax ~~"
"We'll be watching you," the woman ground out through clenched teeth.
"Promises promises ~" Madonna's rich laugh followed them out, transforming into a moan as she redirected her full attention to her devoted companions. "Now then... where were we, my pets?"
In the hallway outside, the agents exchanged grim looks under the flickering fluorescent lights.
"She's lying through her fangs," the woman said flatly, checking her specialized ammunition – hollow points filled with blessed silver nitrate. Expensive, but effective against supernatural creatures.
"Obviously. But proving it..." The man shook his head wearily. "Keep surveillance on her. Something doesn't add up here."
"When does it ever?" The woman's expression was dark. "Think the local police can handle another attack if it happens?"
"God help them if they try," the man muttered, remembering other "animal attack" scenes they'd worked. The kind that had veteran cops and forensics teams vomiting in the bushes. The kind that haunted your dreams.
Back in her pleasure den, Madonna's crimson smile held secrets darker than dried blood as she listened to their retreating footsteps with preternatural hearing. Let them watch. Let them suspect. The game was always more entertaining with an audience. Besides... she had other concerns at the moment. More... pressing matters to attend to.
Her human pets required such careful handling – enough pleasure to keep them addicted, enough blood to bind them to her will, but never enough to risk turning them. That was an art she had indeed mastered over her centuries. Let the agents waste their time watching her. They'd never catch her making such an amateur mistake as losing control of a turning.
No... whoever – or whatever – was hunting children, it wasn't one of hers. But she had her suspicions. There were older, darker things in the shadows of the world. Things that even her master feared. Things that he whispered about in his rare moments of unguarded speech.
The thought sent a delicious shiver down her spine as she surrendered herself to pleasure. Let the humans play at their investigation. The real game was just beginning – and she intended to enjoy every moment of it. She and countless others.