Chapter Text
There are many vagrants living in New York. On cold nights, they often huddle together in specific places, away from busy districts. Some, on the contrary, prefer to survive alone, wandering the bustling streets without shame.
Ignis knew their habits and favorite spots well. Over time, he began to see the city as his hunting ground, and the people in it — as prey. It sounded a bit harsh, almost animalistic, but then again, every yōkai had something beastly buried deep inside — not just in appearance. The other, more civilized and rational part of Ignis liked to think of himself as a businessman who managed to please all parties: he did the surface dwellers a favor, like a cleaner, ridding their city of society’s rejects, while the clients from the Hidden City got exactly what they paid for. Everyone was happy... except the vagrants, perhaps.
Sure, each of them probably had some sad story that led to their fall to the bottom of the social ladder, and someone might say they didn’t deserve such a fate — but... Ignis didn’t care. After all, humans didn’t care either — not about the feelings of the vagrants, nor about the vagrants themselves: Ignis had been doing this for years and not once had he seen anyone search for a missing homeless person. The human police would only show concern if a body was found, but Ignis never left evidence. In this city, people were like ants in an anthill, and yet most of them barely cared for one another — unless someone famous or important went missing. And even then, people forgot easily. Lou Jitsu was a clear example. His disappearance made some waves among his fans, but it all died down with time. People forgot quickly.
Ignis could agree with some yōkai known for their hatred of humanity — that humans were callous and didn’t deserve to rule the surface world. But he didn’t actually hate them. It was just business, and he was good at it, making money.
Though he had to admit, expanding the business brought some... complications. There were now more refined clients demanding higher-quality goods. They paid well — no complaints there! But the product had become harder to acquire... more risky. Homeless people were easy to catch with almost no risk, but they lived on the streets, drank lots of foul liquid humans called “alcohol,” smelled bad, and carried all sorts of diseases. After the “pressing” procedure, Ignis would discard the ones that were too far gone and tried to make the others presentable. But even with thermal treatment, their bodies never reached the desired “tenderness.” And the new picky clients wanted exactly that — tenderness. Younger, healthier specimens, whose bodies weren’t soaked in alcohol.
It was risky, sure — but what business isn’t? That’s what led Ignis to Central Park. A place that felt like a real forest in the middle of a concrete jungle. Ignis quickly adapted to his new hunting grounds and realized that young people — of both sexes — the kind he needed, often lingered here in the evenings in groups, just hanging out. Perfect.
If he acted fast, before any of them could dodge the beam of the mystical Crystal, and then cleaned up the evidence — no matter how long the local police searched, they’d find nothing. Humans didn’t know about the Hidden City, so they’d never think to look for their kind there.
Sometimes it happened that someone regained consciousness in time and managed to escape, but Ignis never worried about that. Seriously? They wouldn’t last ten minutes without being eaten or crushed!
Twilight had fallen over the city, signaling to Ignis that it was time to hunt. His reptilian nature preferred to be active during the day, but there was no helping it. The lizard lowered his secondary eyelid, which helped him see better in the dark, and slipped through the bushes, silently climbing up a tree trunk. His flexible body let him stay hidden in the canopy and observe. A group of five teenagers sitting on a fallen log away from the walking paths — a gift from above. Sure, they were laughing loudly and chugging that garbage, but that didn’t matter. They looked young, healthy, and plump. The clients would be thrilled!
Ignis watched from above a little longer, making sure no one else was nearby (especially those dumb turtles that occasionally caused chaos around the city), and reached a clawed hand into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out a pink crystal the size of his palm. It shimmered in the distant glow of a streetlamp. He pointed it at the group, taking aim and waiting for the moment when they were close enough together — then spoke the incantation. A flash of bright light followed by a sickening, wet crunch and a scream — which was quickly cut off. Seconds later, all that remained near the log were clothes, bags, bottles, and drink cups. Hiding the Crystal, Ignis clicked his tongue in irritation. Humans always leave behind so much trash...
He leapt down from the tree, landing silently on the grass. As he got closer, he noticed something moving under one of the T-shirts. Well... it was that person’s own fault for not sleeping through the transportation. Ignis pulled a leather sack from his belt. First, he needed to harvest the goods — then he could deal with the evidence. As long as no one interrupted him.