All Hallows' Eve (Legion of Thieves)

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" I roared, strapping on my black leather grieves. "We have to hurry before the sun sets or it will be too late!"

The entire Legion was assembled in the foyer, strapping on armor, checking weapons and taking stock of the ammunition. We were in for a long night... if we survived.

"Dawn fix my strap!" Pratt pleaded.

It was rare for any of us to have to dust off our armor and go into battle. The last major fight we had participated in was the Battle of Louisiana during The Vampire/Fey War, six months ago. This was going to be a battle on a whole-other scale. For weeks we had been tracking down a necromancer who threatened to raise the dead and cause a massive zombie apocalypse. We had stalled his progress, but he had gone off the radar for the past few days.

Now he had resurfaced. An amateur photographer had gotten extremely lucky and snapped a picture of him, which Catt had found during a media sweep. The photo had been taken at Belvedere Castle in Central Park. I sent Dawn and Ben there this morning to inspect the castle. Ben had returned beaten and bruised but alive. Dawn arrived after him with a message from the Necromancer: "The apocalypse begins tonight... come if you dare!"

We were coming with everything we had... save Ben who was too injured... and Lissa who agreed to stay behind and watch over him. But we were coming!

"Are you sure we can't call in reinforcements?" Arthur asked, shaking the contents of a vial violently. It changed blue, black and red. He seemed satisfied and stowed it in one of the many pockets of his long coat, which he wore over a leather cuirass covered in alchemic script. "The Vampires? The Fey? The House of Life?"

I shook my head. "The Fairy Court is still in disarray, Alyssa is still consolidating her power. The vampire's suffered too many casualties during the war, they can't spare any help. The House owes us no favors but I have sent warnings to everyone just in case."

"So it's up to the... seven of us?" Max questioned, picking at the large rings he had on each finger. Other than the improvised brass knuckles he wore a chainmail shirt, leather trousers with protective padding and black combat boots.

WIP