A magnum revolver of that enchanted magnitude meant business in any fight against a supernatural, a name for all things inhuman, aberrations that surpassed the mortal coil. Wulvyn, vampyrials, nightborne, darkbloods; they all suffered unfortunate fates at the pull of Princeton Pharoah's trigger.
Princeton and Soul Royale; partners, kindred, hunters. They strolled up on Zamson and his companions like they knew them. Zamson had no idea who they were.
The same was said for the others.
"Soul," said Princeton, still aiming at the writhing Noctavion across the way. "Be a peach and help the alphas out of here for me?"
Soul was already at them. "Say less, fam."
Naia hissed like the cat-eyed devil she was, but Soul never stopped her approach. Zamson had to grab her arm and squeeze tenderly to calm her down, or at least try. Until he spoke.
"Trust them," he said. "If they were against us, we'd be already dead."