The Name Markell

                           ;; that’s something we haven’t                                                                       defeated yet.

New Orleans, it was subtle and thick with superstition, something Viktor greatly appreciated if anything else. It was his home where as his brothers would have found it more convenient to live in more lively places such as New York or perhaps even back home. That was a place Viktor would never go back to ever again, not unless he was the ruler of it and he wasn't exactly ready for that just yet, ruling that was. Of course he was a ruler of sorts in his own right, being an Incubus of ancient decent brought along power that many could only work for decades, centuries even, to acquire. To many he was a ruthless business man who wanted nothing more than to take whatever innocence he could get his hands on and that was only half true. No one, not even his brothers, truly understood Viktor. He was more the silent but extremely strong type; speaking only when it was absolutely necessary that he socialize in whatever means he had to at that moment. Slipping into a pub was just that means, he was there to meet someone, they had picked the location. Most likely afraid that he was going to kill them the first chance he got and they wouldn't be wrong at that of course. He really just wanted to kill them. Straightening his jacket Viktor glanced around the pub and exhaled a sigh before making his way over to the bar. "Scotch... Please." He said to the bartender.