Fantasy Welcome to Blackwater Creek

[DividesByZer0]

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“Marcus…What happened?” Vic quivered there before him like a mouse who had been traumatized by a cat.

"How should I know?" Marcus didn't know what to make of it. He didn't entirely believe that she didn't know or remember anything. What ever happened here was violent. The room was in shambles, sheets and curtains torn, and her clothes... where were they exactly? Some semblance of her modesty covered only by shredded remains of her bedding.

He glanced about the room with a heavy sigh of exasperation and worry. Trying to cover his suspicions he searched for an answer as to what could have happened. He wanted no part of it, and hoped it had nothing to do with the weird tale he heard last night. Werewolves or what ever? Pfft! bullcrap. He couldn't believe the company would even waste his time trying to call him back for some childish fantasy like that. Next thing they were gonna tell him is that vampires exist and they sparkle. He stifled a laugh and shook his head. Snapping back to reality he combed the room sweeping his eyes from corner to corner.

Why did he even come back here? He thought to himself. He should have just went home. He after a quick glance and assessment of the place his eyes landed on the pathetic-looking, teary eyed girl who sat there with no memory of last night. He sure in hell didn't do it, and there were no such things as god damn werecreatures, so the only thing that...

He clenched a fist. If he stayed could he have prevented this?

"Who did this to you? Do you really not remember, or are you protecting someone?" He asked as he opened her drawers and started picking out clothes. "Get dressed were taking you to a hospital." He said, tossing her some clothes that looked warm enough for the cold outside.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to call an ambulance?" He gripped his phone ready to dial. "Medkit?" He turned his attention to the medicine cabinets and pantries towards the bathroom. He dashed over and slammed it open. He looked for gauze, hydrogen peroxide, rubbing alcohol, antiseptics, bandages, anything that could be used to help.

His hands find a modest first aid kit with some of the things he was looking for. This tiny kit more suited for cuts and boo-boos than the field surgery kits he kept. Perhaps they could stop by his place on the way to the hospital if need be. He pondered how bad her assault was. Perhaps she could have internal bleeding? Would he have to cauterize an artery? Did she have an iron or a soldering gun?

He hurried over to her with the kit in hand, then peeling the sheets from her he said, "No time to be modest. Where are you hurt?" He ripped open a package of bandages and dumped some bacitracin ointment on them in preparation. He hoped there wasn't anything serious.

"Show me where he..." He paused thinking the worst. "they..." He hoped not. "Hurt you." His slight hesitation betraying his concern.

Why did he care? He's supposed to remain detached from people and anything that could compromise him. Anything could be used as leverage to make him come back to work. Hell he didn't even keep computers around anymore. He knew what could be done with them; he did it himself.

"Vic talk to me. What happened? Think harder. Do you need to go to the hospital?" He held her cheeks in the soft velvet his his warm palms. His eyes looked into hers, more for signs of concussion, different sized pupils and such. Maybe she was in shock and couldn't remember. Maybe she didn't want to remember. He couldn't stand the thought of something like this happening when he could have prevented it.

 

[FaithWynters]

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​

He watched her with the confused look of a wild animal. His mind went to a million places at once—Victoria could see it behind his eyes as worry and fear flooded past the calm and collected demeanor she had seen the night before. Her tears were the bait that lured him into her damaged little world. It wasn’t something that was intended. Vic was lying to him, and something inside her twisted and threatened to make her sick. It was the right feeling to make this whole thing even more believable, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She had been put in a corner! What else could Vic have done? With each second, Victoria regretted the tears even more, but she couldn’t stop them now.

“I—I…” The young woman couldn’t choke out words as she sat there, pathetically looking at the young man as he surveyed the room for any hint of what had happened in here. Vic wasn’t surprised when he asked if she was protecting someone—Yeah, I’m protecting myself—but she stared at him with fear, letting out another quiet sob. Her body was shaking as he disappeared into the bathroom. Fuck. Victoria couldn’t afford a trip to the hospital—hell she couldn’t even afford to buy a new medkit to replace the one he had appeared from bathroom with. He had obviously gone to another place. He had flipped a switch that helped him handle the sight of her sobbing form.

“Stop!” Her voice was hoarse as arms moved to cover the bare body the best that they could. This was the one thing she didn’t want him to see. When most would expect to see the soft and smooth porcelain skin of a young woman that was not the case. Her skin wore the marks that came only from years of abuse toward her body. There was still discoloration across her body from the fight she had been in the night before, but she couldn’t hide years of cuts and scrapes and pain. Most of the scars were small just little marks from claws and teeth that only looked like little pock-marks along her skin. Others were great reminders—a tapestry of the dark history that Victoria truly wanted to forget. She had a long gash across her stomach where something—she couldn’t even remember what—had tried to disembowel her. There were a few larger scars across her arms, her legs, her chest…There wasn’t really a body part that hadn’t been cut, scratched, ripped out of its socket, or shot.

Her eyes caught on a cut tracing almost completely down the length of her left thigh. Unlike the others that had scabbed over or scarred, this one glistened deep crimson. From what Vic could see, there was nothing lodged in the cut, but it must have happened while she had been out. Maybe the were form had caught herself on a jagged piece of metal or something; she couldn’t remember. Still, instinctively, he pulled her leg to her chest in order to try and hide her body. It was a slow and stiff movement, as even though all the interaction she was still pretty foggy. She felt the thickness create a warm seal between the touching skin, but she didn’t move again as he disappeared.

A lot of the words that he spoke escaped with the cool breeze out of the open window of the bedroom without a response from Vic. He was drawn in—her tears made him worry—and this odd chemistry that the two of them had seemed to be the hook in his mouth. She had caught him in ways that she had not intended. It was in this moment that she felt an odd feeling sink into her. It was a warmness she hadn’t really felt before. He was so worried about her. Just like all the thoughts and realizations she had had in the recent days, it was a nice one. It went from thinking that there wasn’t really anyone in the world that gave a damn whether you lived or died to seeing one person’s worry when they thought you were in pain. In those few moments, she realized, as the warmth of his hands on her cold, wet, cheeks pulled her out of her mind again, that they were friends.

“I can’t afford to go to the h—hospital…” That was the first time she had spoken a completely coherent sentence since he had found his place on the bed beside her. Pulling her face away, she straightened out the leg that was still bleeding. “I’m not protecting anyone.” Victoria still couldn’t believe that was his first thought, and for a moment, she wondered what was up with this human. He asked questions Vic wouldn’t have thought to have been his first. “I—I don’t remember what happened.” Goosebumps travelled up her bare skin—a sign of her finally being completely out of her transformation stage, and it was only now that she realized how hard her body was shaking—that was natural, and Vic had grown quite used to it.

“I—I remember getting a drink of water in the bathroom before taking a shower.” A deep breath filled her lungs. “But I don’t remember getting out of the shower.” Vic looked back up to meet his eyes again. Victoria knew that he hadn’t been outside earlier, but she needed to act like she was unaware. “You were the only one in my apartment, Marcus.” Of course, she wanted to plant that seed of doubt. Maybe he would go away and leave her alone. Things had gotten far too dangerous; she couldn’t risk him finding out what she was—Victoria was a monster. They would both end up dead for that. She didn’t realize that there was blood on her hands when she went to wipe the tears away. In its wake, her face smeared red and the young woman tried to move away from him. “W-What did you do to me?”

 

[DividesByZer0]

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“I can’t afford to go to the h—hospital…” She whimpered. He ignored her protests. He would pay if he had to take another loan out if it kept one more person alive.

“I’m not protecting anyone.” She didn't sound very convincing. He asked questions to find the truth of the issue, how was he supposed to help during this time of... what ever it was. “I—I don’t remember what happened.” She quivered and Marcus noticed the goosebumps. Shock? He began to check her pupil sizes for signs of a concussion. His hands were that of a combat medic quick, yet careful; assured in skill, yet hesitant in what he may find.

“I—I remember getting a drink of water in the bathroom before taking a shower.” A deep breath from her sounded clean. No fluid in her lungs Marcus noted. He checked her head for blunt force trauma. “But I don’t remember getting out of the shower.” Vic locked her eyes to his. He could feel a sense of pain, or something deep seated that she was holding back from him. What was it? He nodded anxiously awaiting her to tell him. What's wrong? His eyes pleaded.

“You were the only one in my apartment, Marcus.” She began. Marcus felt his heart sink in his chest. If he had only stayed he would have been here to help. But he does a double take. If she didn't remember anyone else than what the hell happened? He clutched her hands with a soft stroke to the back of one hand he tried to sooth her. He noticed a slick of blood on her hands when she went to wipe the tears away. The blood, sweat, and tears streaked her face like a running red mascara. She turned away from him. “W-What did you do to me?”

Like a dagger to the back and twisting into his heart Marcus couldn't believe it. Was this her game all along? Was this why she brought him here? Was she extorting him? What was she going on about? How could she? Wounded puppy eyes like he had just been kicked, Marcus stood slowly with a slight tremble in his legs. He looked down at her like a father who had heard a daughter say she was running off to marry a vagabond. After the crazy night that they been through, after all the care he showed and how he let down his walls for her, she was yet another who would prove to him that no one could be trusted. Marcus was wrong to care.

"I don't know what you're after. If it's money I have none. If you were hired by someone then tell him black mail won't work..." He began coldly, his voice becoming more distant with each sentence. "And if you honestly believe that I have wronged you in anyway, I'm deeply saddened. Not only that you think I would be capable of such a thing, but the fact that what ever it is that happened here is so much more important it's worth ruining--" He stopped himself. What did they have exactly? Maybe he was a fool. Women always were fickle creatures.

His fist clenched and opened a few times in frustration. He had killed men for less. To tarnish his name and reputation with such trash. For her to say or think something so lowly of him after all he did for people like her to stay safe in the world. He let out a sigh of regret. "I should go." He said as he turned his back to her. He threw the gauze bandage roll over his shoulder at her in an effort to tell her to clean herself up. She obviously didn't want his help. The walk to the door seemed long and a chill breeze from the window swept past his face.

The door opened with a creak and the light from the hallway peered into the darkness of her dwelling. He stood there looking back at her for one last moment, thinking of how he thought she was different. "Good bye, Vic." Feelingless and distant his voice seemed to echo ever so slightly off the empty room and hallway.

The door shut behind him and with his back pressed against the door he slides to the floor with a solid thump.


"Really?" Alexa leaned over greeting the poor slob. She had seen this before. "When will you stop holding on to the idea of a normal life and childhood fantasies of people you can trust? People like us don't get the luxury of those things. We're born into it." She helped him off the floor. "Come on get up. Let's get the hell out of here and we'll talk about another lead we just got over some hot coffee." She walked him down the stairwell rather than waiting for the elevator. Something about the way she stressed coffee over tea...

"Besides I think there is something you might want to know about your little friend there." Alexa danced around something that the company has been suspecting for a while. "She might be connected with the people we're looking for."

 

[FaithWynters]

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Victoria could have done so many things differently. She could have tackled him, slit his throat, and watched him bleed out on the floor of her small little apartment. She could have called him back—tried to explain—and hopefully patched up whatever offence he had taken from her words. She could have fed his offence and anger and watched as the little relationship the two had created evaporate in front of her. Instead, she just watched him with her doe-eyed look and let his distrust for her grow, and as he picked himself up from the bed, she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. She just watched him leave her there—naked, bleeding, and alone.

“Perfect.” The word was only a soft escape of breath in the now-silent apartment. Of course, it wasn’t in the plan to chase after him like some blind little schoolgirl, and as much as the interaction made her unsettled and uncomfortable, she just continued to cry her little crocodile tears until she heard his disappointed goodbye and the door slam behind him.

She was alone again.

She could not deny that there was a part of her that wanted to scream at him and yell down the hallway. She had saved him, and as much as he wanted to spin this whole thing around on her, he should have been a little more… Another soft sigh escaped from within her as she looked out across the wrecked room. The sounds of the city finally pulling itself out of its deep and silent slumber reminded Vic that it was another day. No… This wasn’t his fault. He was just a silly human—it wasn’t his fault that she had to lie. It wasn’t his fault that she had to protect him.

It was in moments like this, when she let her life just sink in, that she remembered who she was. She remembered that a normal life wasn’t for her. The simplistic worries of a human’s life were not something that would ever fall to her shoulders. She wasn’t human, and as she flew closer to her dreams, her humanity melted away and she plunged back to her cold and unforgiving reality.

Protecting herself was protecting him. Vic ran the thought through her mind, hoping that at one point, the idea would stick and she wouldn’t feel like complete shit. So far, it wasn’t working, and as she pulled herself to the edge of the bed, weight on her leg caused it to collapse beneath her.

The next moment she was staring at the blood-stained hardwood beneath her. It had seen everything that could have happened in this bedroom. The nights of unbelievable pleasure and the thoughts that love was just behind the next door—that all you had to do was take the next step. The mornings where waking up meant realizing the open door had nothing for you behind it. It meant making that slow walk to the bathroom alone, to wash your face and regret every ounce of pride you hid behind a veil of ignorance just to not feel so alone—just like this morning. It saw more early mornings lying in bed alone than living.

Victoria’s leg had already stopped bleeding as she took a damp cloth to the dried blood on her face and legs. It was a quick process. Finding her room a mess when she reappeared wasn’t abnormal. With long dark hair being tamed in a single pony tail, long thin fingers grasped clothing that littered the floor. Slipping things on was a task only for a moment as her thigh fought back with a stiffness and burning. It was obvious that her body was repairing itself, but there was enough to hinder her for an extra moment.

The world was slowly shifting itself back to normal, and the events that had made her think for a moment that humans weren’t too bad had escaped out the door with Marcus. It was the same door Victoria approached now and locked without another thought. She did not want him returning as he had done so coolly in the night.

Oh, no, she had not forgotten that he too had his own little grouping of secrets. He too had slipped out of the apartment for the night only to return in the morning. It was odd, but in the heat of what was going on, there had been no time for Victoria to ask him why he came back. The human was quite an odd one, that was for sure—so cautious and secretive. A small snort escaped from Vic; that sounded like someone pretty familiar. Still, she could not dwell on a human that was very much in the past. Instead, she limped her way back into the bedroom to clean up the messes she had made earlier.

. . .​

Be wary of those who may lead you astray from his path. Your mission is to protect his people and allow them to find their own paths to acceptance of all. Make peace with your loss and take solace in the support of your brethren as they are the ones who will never abandon you.

Victoria took comfort in the words, and let them sink into her soul for a moment. Soon, she would return to her work and she needn’t worry about anything else. It’s going to be alright She had to keep telling herself that, and with every moment she attempted to put her apartment back together to the way it had been before, her thoughts drifted away, and dreams turned into wisps of cigarette smoke lost to the cool morning breeze.

 

[DividesByZer0]

"Was it all a lie?" Marcus eyed the woman in red, sitting across from him at the bar. No one seemed to be eavesdropping, which was her reason for choosing this hole in the wall to meet. But of course, when Alexa arrived she got eye fucked by every man in the place. Marcus could feel their envy as she sat gracefully across from him in a booth near the back of the bar. Alexa was stunning, but she was also his coworker and his Friend's wife.

Alexa smirked as she checked her makeup with a pocket mirror. "Let him tell you about the art of lying, Marcus. Every well-told lie contains some element of truth. It makes the lie believable. This art isn't taught in school, you learn it by much practice, or maybe you don't."

Marcus knew that was her subtle jab at his inability to make a well-formed lie. Marcus could understand why people did it, but it only causes unnecessary trouble and heartache.

"Some of it was a lie, but it depends on your definition of 'truth'. What does the truth mean to you, Marcus?"

"Well I avoid lying if I can help it. I understand sometimes people want to hear white lies, but I don't feel any better about it. There is just no gray area for me."

She sipped her beer while gazing at him. Her eyes were an intense hazel and he thought how the windows to her soul were as black holes into some bottomless void.

A barmaid silently brought them another pitcher. Alexa tipped her 100 bucks and it reminded him of the time they went to Vegas. He remembered fragments of being 22 and drunk as a skunk, and the smell of her perfume, while he snorted coke in the Cesar Hotel. He fell back on the bed after a fat rail and Alexa threw money at him as he laid there. That night he slept with his coworker while on the job. It wasn't the last time; They had more flings before she grew tired of his puppy love.

She wasn't married to Roland yet, but she wore an engagement ring on her finger with a pretty offensive-sized rock. Maybe he was a game to her; a last hurrah before she tied the knot. Although if she couldn't be faithful then, what the hell was the difference after the wedding? They were never intimate after the wedding, but he couldn’t say that it hadn't occasionally crossed his mind. Marcus was glad Roland never found out about their little trysts. It would be an understatement to say that if anyone knew, the proverbial shit would hit the fan.

Alexa read his face and leaned closer, "Don't think about the past, Marcus. We don't have a future."

"I never supposed we did." He said. "I only wanted to discuss the job. You had something you wanted to tell me about Vic?" Even the mention of her name made the dagger of betrayal twist in his chest.

"But you want the truth, don't you? To over analyze everything the way you do, but it can't be done, Marcus."

"It can! You just won't tell me. I want to know what’s going on. I want to know the truth, not some gas light fantasy crap. If I wanted twilight, I’d read the god damn book. Tell me, when’s the last time you ever told the truth? In fact, let’s start with my brother’s death, did you have anything to do with it? If it wasn't all a lie, how much of it was true? How much of that report is made up?" He opened a copy of police report that he managed to take pictures of with his phone. He read aloud, "David Knight. Age: thirty-three. Cause of Death: Suicide by drug overdose of prescription medication... The co-worker of the victim said he suffered severe depression after his company went bankrupt due to an office fire and loosing important account records."

Alexa didn't respond. She gave him a look of malice so hateful that the barmaid flinched. “I’ll give you two a minute to order.” She said meekly and walked away.

"There's something you need to know." Alexa said. “let’s go for a walk.”

The cold outside bit his cheeks. Alexa pulled her coat tight and waved at a taxi that waited across the street. She began life as Trixie Belden, a New York girl without two nickels to rub together. Roland met her while she was paying her college tuition with the money she made working in military intelligence. Oh, they had her investigated, but it was too late; she already had Roland wrapped around her crumby, little finger and he took her into the company. Honed those talents and made her a weapon, but she was always a wild cannon. Marcus could understand how Roland felt though. Trixie could bend people to her will; it was one of her special talents.

She transformed herself into Alexa Snow, the young and beautiful wife of Roland Jarvis, a man who amassed a shadow army to service the government need for “special activities”. To put it in the simplest terms he was filthy rich and powerful. I know how much effort she put into maintaining her charade. She carefully hid her insidious nature. She organized fund-raisers in fake organizations, attended numerous charity functions. Alexa was beyond reproach and David’s death was officially a suicide. Marcus suspected that the lovely Alexa killed him. He had no proof and he doubted he'd find any. She was far too skilled to leave any details to chance and the only one who could get close enough to David without him suspecting something. The day he died was the day Marcus left the company.

The taxi drove up Central Park West, splashing filthy slush up on the curbs and over the booted feet of people who were walking on the side walk. Alexa usually wore stiletto heels wherever she went, because she worked assignments that required her to look the part, but tonight she was in boots. This meant that she was on a different kind of assignment.

Marcus was curious about their contract. The standard contract used by the company carries a stipulation that the agents must remain working for a period of no less than four years. David worked for something closer to three and a half years, maybe less. At best maybe he was entitled to leave in a few months. Something wasn't right.

Obviously smitten with Alexa, the doorman hurried to let them inside. In the elevator, a suggestion of Clinique’s Happy left him slightly off-balance. She stood very close to Marcus. She knew the effect her presence had on his ability to think clearly, or most any man really.

Few traces of David remained in the safe house, an apartment in an upscale loft. Things had been discreetly removed: in storage or burned, perhaps. Alexa shrugged off her coat, dropping it on the couch. She waved a hand towards David's study.

"Be my guest and snoop around. Do you want a drink?"

Marcus closed the door behind him. "I'll pass."

He didn't know exactly what he was looking for when he went through David's desk, then Alexa came in with a folder. "His medical records. You can see how depressed he was, right until the end. I wasn't lying when I told you he was sick."

He scanned the papers briefly, trying to ignore the view. She'd perched on the desk, watching him read, waiting for him to take the bait. She moved slightly, leaving her legs uncrossed. Marcus took a deep breath and reminded himself that he hadn't come for her.

"Were you lying about his suicide, Alexa? Isn't there a possibility that he didn't want to die? I grew up with David and he never gave up on anything."

Alexa pulled videotape from the closet. "Perhaps you’re ready to see this." She walked out. Marcus followed her with his eyes and she knew it.

He entered the living room just in time to see horrible footage of David—and some kind of… cat? Or something… other—what ever that thing was the video kept rolling and the screams and the blood was enough to make Marcus sick. Alexa knew this. Marcus averted his eyes. Alexa hit the remote and the images of the creature disappeared.

"What the fuck was that, Alexa?!" She had his full attention.

"What is it that YOU think, Marcus? Somehow, I feel like I can trust you now—to keep your mouth shut. To do your job and your fucking duty. You're wondering if I killed David, or if I helped someone else, right? No, he was slaughtered by those things. And I worked the cover up. We can’t have the public knowing that we can’t protect them from these animals." Alexa said.

Marcus nodded. "That tape…"

"The original, there aren’t copies. I took this from the vault cause I knew it was the only way to get you to come back. Stop asking questions. Get on board and let’s get our revenge. There, I explained this need to know once and we won't mention it again. Agreed?" Marcus nodded in between a state of stoicism and a fine line of bestial rage.

"Good." Her voice had a sense of relief, as if she was glad she didn’t have to kill him after sharing classified information.

“But what does this have to do with Vic?" Marcus asked.

Sometimes it's as simple as what’s right in front of your face. What’s so blatantly obvious you don’t want to admit it. Like the feeling of loving someone you think you couldn’t possibly have feelings for. Marcus was beginning to understand the value of a well-told lie. He didn't count on what happened earlier in Vic’s apartment. She had lied to him and Marcus’ sense of betrayal was his subconscious telling him how it all related.

No...

Yes. Alexa's look reaffirmed it.

“She’s…” Marcus hesitated as if to say it out loud was to make it the truth.

“One of the creatures. If not THE one.” Alexa glared into Marcus’ eyes without a shadow of doubt. Marcus lowered his head.

“And I’m in a position to…”

“You know what needs to be done. Marcus.”

​

 

[FaithWynters]

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“Long night, pussy cat?” The words went unanswered and soon they stopped bouncing off the emptiness around them and came to silence. Dark boots made dulled sounds on the forgotten tile. Soon, they were mirrored by the sounds of others. The soft cooing didn’t stop, and the amused chuckles from others could be heard not too far away. The words slid like sweet poison from his lips.

“Fuck off.” Cutting through the air like icy shards, the young woman came nearer to the elevator. Dark jeans adorned her legs to keep out the cold, and the thick jacket was a shield from the wind. The backpack on her back provided all she would need for another long night out. She didn’t plan on coming home any time soon. She needed to work—to clear her head—and follow the path provided to her by The Order.

“C’mon honey!” The words still rang with that little hint of danger. For the young, dark-skinned man, it was something he had seen work many times before. That promise of adventure and excitement drew them in just close enough where tight jaws could snap around them, trap them, and snuff them out when needed. “You could be my queen if you just gave me a chance.” The words were soft like silk as the young woman stopped in front of the dimly lit panel, pressing the button for her ride.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Judas.” As always, the elevator took longer than it should have, and she was stuck here for a while longer. “I’m not the kind a queen you want.” There was a deep chuckle from behind and inevitably, he got too close for her comfort.

“You’re the queen I need, babygirl. You know that.” She had endured this interaction more times than she had preferred to mention, but each time it was a little different, and each time, he got a little ballsier. This time was the first time he had tried to touch her, and with the dull and lifeless ding of her chariot, he wrapped a large arm around her waist.

It was a soft embrace at first. It was a warmth that she had missed, and, had it been any other time and with any other person, she might have found herself lost in his strength and power. She might have succumb to the connection. But today was not the day, and as the grip tightened around her and she felt his heart pick up to the feeling of her soft skin against his, she let out a quiet laugh.

His first mistake had been believing that she wouldn’t try to fight back against him. His second mistake was pressing his weapon so close to her. She knew it was a natural reaction—a phallic symbol of the strength and the danger that could befall the person that dare go against his wishes. Yet, she didn’t care.

The reaction was so fast, Judas didn’t know what had happened until he was staring down the barrel of his own gun. It was clear by the smirk on Vic’s face as she stared him down that she didn’t plan on shooting him. It was a game they had played. Each time she grew tired of his advances, she would do something to put him back into his place. With hands held up to signify peace, dark eyes stared her down. Still, he wasn’t sure what she would do, and the two men that had been following behind him only stood in silence. It was obvious one carried a weapon, and he held onto it at his hip defensively.

Still, Judas said nothing.

Long strides backward landed Victoria in the elevator, and, with each movement—the press of the buttons to head down, the calm lean back against the glass of the elevator—she kept the gun trained on her and her smirk dirty.

With a subtle rumble, the door closed and the elevator began to move. Shouting. A door slamming open. Silence. She knew what was happening, and yet, as the elevator descended, she was not afraid. When the elevator once again opened on the first floor, she was met with Judas’ eyes again. Still, he did not have a gun, but the other had his trained on her.

Victoria no longer held the weapon up toward the men.

He would not pull the trigger unless told to do so by the leader, and that wouldn’t happen any time soon. Deep down, he loved the fire that coursed through her, and it had been a long time—through years of pain and fighting of his own—since any woman had denied him like Victoria did. While they did not speak as often as he would have liked—Judas only stopped by once or twice a day to deal some of his own wares to residents around the building—there was that attraction to her that was undeniable. It was something he wanted to explore, and he knew, just like his men had jokingly commented many times before, that this was their flirtatious little game. And, to him, there was only one way this game would end.

Stepping out of the elevator, curves cut an angled path toward the door to the apartment building and away from Judas. There was enough distance between them that the three had begun to walk slowly behind her, and, with a single movement over her shoulder, metal clattered to the ground. It was only his deep laugh that broke the silence.

“You will be my queen one day, Victoria.” The old door swung open without much of a fight, and with a simple look back across the empty, yellow, space of the lobby, eyes told him that it would never happen. Before anything else could be said, the glass doors swung closed behind her and Vic had escaped out into the city once again.

 

[DividesByZer0]

The cold harsh reality began to sink in during his long walk back home. The quite banality of his environment belied the raging torrent of conflict in his life. He stopped at his door; it's creaked open already. The stench of rotten food and pizza assails his nose from a garbage pail near by on the stoop. "Couldn't even take the pail to the corner." He muttered to himself in disgust.

After taking care of the trash he entered the apartment only to find his drunken brother snoring as loud as a wood chipper on his couch. Party all night sleep all day is all the guy ever did. Marcus' phone rang, his mother, he didn't bother to pick up. It was the same song and dance. The voice mail beeped on his phone 5 minutes long. He knew it would be a drunken rant about how shity of a son he was. How he never lived up to her "expectations". Doctor/President is a pipe dream, and not even his.

Marcus slipped on another pair of jeans and a t-shirt after a shower and went through his old arsenal. Checking for discreet urban carry he settled on a sleek black .40cal glock. Hammer-less and with a low profile it was perfect to prevent printing and none would be the wiser. He liked the .40 cal because it wasn't as slow as a .45, yet had the knockdown power. The round wasn't as fast as a 9mm, but it retained penetration for those thick leather motorcycle jackets... or animal hides. The best part of the .40 caliber was it's perfect design for maximum cavitation, once in the human body it tore a conical spiral through out the body cavity, the organs are hit by a shock-wave like a sledgehammer hitting a watermelon, only this tiny sledge hammer was traveling at a velocity of 980 feet per second. The exit would be the size of a softball. He often lay awake at night thinking of eating a bullet to end the incessant misery that was his life. His only solace was that he could take that gun any moment he wanted and paint his walls red and grey.

Happiness... is a warm gun. He cleaned it's intricate inner workings and oiled it well, careful not to get anything on the firing pin. He didn't want to foul up the trigger and cause a jam. He was careful not to buy cheap ammunition cause the gunpowder that was too coarse would find it's way into the oil and gunk it up. That was a sure fire way to get yourself dead in the heat of the moment. He loaded the high velocity hollow points that he filed a cross to make dumb-dumb tips, insuring the bullet breaks into the body of what ever it hit leaving little to no trace for ballistics. The comforting feel of the rubber grip met the smooth velvet of his palm like an old pair of gloves. A strange sense of nostalgia and sadness was at the tip of his finger. The hair-line pull between living and dead was not "power" as some people might feel, but rather the edge of bliss and blasphemy.

Another call and it's Alexa again, "Yeah?" Marcus is annoyed after being so rudely interrupted in the only form of true solace he had left.

"Watcher 3 has found her out and about in the city. He wants you to find the asset and make contact again." She said pedantically.

The word "asset" although familiar bothered him this time. It was how the company dehumanized your target. Everyone was a target, asset, or mark. It made you think less about the thing you had to do. There were many mind games that worked on some of the dumber troops, but never quite on Marcus. He saw through it, but he always did what he was told because that's what it was. "A good fucking soldier", as Roland always put it in an almost sarcastic way. Roland gave Marcus a very unique code name because of what Marcus was known for. Much like winter, when Marcus arrived every one died.

"Mr. November. Find out what the asset knows, her relation to the pack and do what you always do. The safety of this countries people are at stake." Alexa's monotonous inflection sounded as if she was reading write out of the company handbook, tailored to him with an (insert name here).

"Ars est celare artem." Marcus hung up and moved out into the city.

 

[FaithWynters]

​

For once in what seemed like forever, silence had overtaken this part of the city. It was known to anyone who prowled the streets like they that such a place was not one to loiter or solicit. And as two figures appeared from stone steps leading up from a place far below the ground, it was clear that they only hardly belonged themselves.

It was a back alleyway masked in the rubbish and grime that seemed to plague much of the city as of late. The building: a grey stone that was built far before anyone alive had even been a little blimp on the map, shot up into the city-line and proudly bolstered the strength of the city. To those like these creatures, it was hope, and a promise of another day—another task to keep them from twiddling their thumbs and going crazy with boredom.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!” The voice still rang in the young woman’s ears. The cool winter air brushed across pink cheeks and the sound of once-melting ice mixed with salt crunched beneath heavy boots. “How the hell do you think you’re going to take on a family of forest trolls all on your own?” One of the sets of crunching quickened to catch up to the first. “That’s suicide, Victoria.” It was a tight grip on her wrist that finally stopped the woman over a foot shorter than he. It was only in these alleyways that it seemed safe enough to talk freely between one another.

“There’s only two of them. Gosh, do your research.” It was the ghost of a voice that danced away with the newly falling snow. “You know why forest trolls move.” Dark eyes pierced into ones as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. His body was built like a warrior—tall and broad—and although his grip was strong, her calmness alone was enough to pull his caring paws away. “They lost their child. So, they’ve travelled.” Once again, she turned and started walking, hands lazily in their pockets. “Blackwater needs me, and as is my calling, I will be its protector, Arsenios.”

“You know you don’t have to do this alone.” The second set of footsteps followed behind once again. “I can help you!” There was silence for a few moments. Vic could remember the look in his eyes as he begged her to let him come along. “I will follow you into battle as it used to be!” Even in the cold the man only wore dressings to cover his chest and legs. His arms, inflated with muscle and history, were adorned with tribal markings from his people back in Greece, and scars to write their own story. “We shall protect these people—our people together!”

This time, he stepped into her path. He trapped her with his eyes this time, and she slowed to a stop, the warmth of her smile breaking through the chill of the flakes that got stuck in his long, dark hair and beard. Just as he watched his family and tribe struck down by invading orcs that came from the Smolikas when winter became too harsh, he worried too that one of his closest comrades would be lost to a battle he could help win.

“We are not teenagers anymore, Arsenios.” He stood, just on the mouth of the alleyway they had been walking. Her destination was only about a block further, but she could see the worry in his eyes. “The less of a scene we make, the better our chances of getting out of the area once this work is done.” He let out a snort—the closest thing to a begging noise that he would ever let pass through is lips. Silently, she pushed a thick strand of hair out of his face and behind one of his ears. “Thank you for your worry, my friend. But take solace and remain strong. The task is not a hard one—I will be fine!” Her hand had come to rest gently in his shoulder, but now, as she spoke, it returned to her pockets. “Tomorrow, we shall drink to my victory as a warrior, huh?” There was another snort in return.

“May his path guide you in battle and lead you into the light of victory, Victoria.” Her smile widened. It was a nice sentiment, and although he did not believe in the same God as she, she was certain that he prayed for her. Without much of a warning, she held out her hand, and in the grip of a warrior, he took her forearm in his grasp as she did, and they hugged. For he was certainly worried and she certainly wanted to reassure him.

When they pulled apart, he walked away in the direction behind her. Just as she expected, when she turned to give him one final glance, he had taken to the skies and was nowhere in sight.

The park was quite large for being in a city and was nestled on the outskirts eastern border. Usually, stone and dirt paths cut veins through the green grass and trees. It was a popular place for morning joggers to take their run before heading into their menial jobs to work the daily grind from their bones. Now, however, path and grass alike were covered in a fresh blanket of snow.

A single set of footsteps trailed across the perfect little picture, and ended at the base of the tree Victoria had chosen to climb. Limp legs dangled from one of the thicker branches that shot out across one of the less traveled paths. From what she could see, the park was currently abandoned due to the snow (or maybe due to the warning posted by the city about serial muggers) and the sounds around were dampened greatly by the snow. They were thick flakes—the kind that hit you in the face and made you blink twice as much.

She awaited in prayer, listening to the sounds around her, and remembering the conversation the pair had enjoyed only an hour or so ago. Her mind drifted, and she thought back to all that had happened in the past few days; she wasn’t certain why he wouldn’t leave her mind. She remembered the warmth that spread through her cheeks as Marcus walked her back to the apartment. She thought back to the tea they had enjoyed together, the worried look in his eyes when he thought she was hurt, the feeling of strong hands gripping her face in an attempt to calm her fake cries, and she remembered that there was nothing human waiting for her in this world.

And with that, she heard the beginnings of heavy footsteps far away from her in the park—something a human surely couldn’t pick up on. They resonated as east as you could get without walking out of the city and into the darkness of the unprotected world beyond.

Now, as she looked out over the silent forest, his scent drifted away from her, and she prepared her mind for battle.

 

[DividesByZer0]

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​

Marcus followed the winding roads of the park to the west. Alexa had texted him the last known whereabouts of the asset. Thinking back to last night he wondered if the trashed room and Vic's strange behavior did indeed have something to do with it all. Still trying to come to terms with the fact that such fantasy creatures did indeed exist, Marcus wondered if they were such a threat why have they never come out in thousands of years. Sure mythological stories of such creatures existed for a millennia, but living, breathing... bleeding creatures.

If it can bleed it can die. The way she bled, Marcus wondered if such a creature's blood would be red. Perhaps they would be, as most things were, but then again octopus had copper blue blood. Did that mean Vic was human? What a stupid question, he thought. Of course she was! The bubbly girl he knew who liked Harry Potter and tea and...

...come to think of it, how did she just pop out in the nick of time? Something attacked him and here was this random woman all of a sudden able to help in his time of need. Where he on assignment he would think her a plant or spy. It's just too easy.

“We are not teenagers anymore, Arsenios.” Marcus heard some voices ahead in the park. “The less of a scene we make, the better our chances of getting out of the area once this work is done.”

“Thank you for your worry, my friend. But take solace and remain strong. The task is not a hard one—I will be fine! Tomorrow, we shall drink to my victory as a warrior, huh?” There was a snort that Marcus thought sounded animal like.

“May his path guide you in battle and lead you into the light of victory, Victoria.” Victoria? Marcus pressed his back against a tree and scanned the area for her. Did that voice mean his Victoria?

His? The thought was unrealistic. She was just another mark. An asset to be used for good of God and country. He secreted a small .32 Beretta in his coat pocket and walked further down the patch. His heart pounding with every step in anticipation of what he may find. Victoria? That strange voice definitely called that name. Was it her?

He clutched the polymer of the grip ever tighter and his finger rested on the trigger, itching with anxiety. If it was her, what did it mean? Would he have to use aggressive interrogation tactics on her? There was so much they didn't know about what was going on in this shit whole. Black water indeed held a dark secret.

The time had come.

"Victoria?" He called out in the park wondering if he would find the person he was looking for.


[/centerBLOCK]

 

[FaithWynters]

​

Yes. She was ready for anything this large, snow-covered park might bring to her. At least, she thought she was prepared. With her eyes closed, she listened to the sound of the heavy footsteps off in the distance. If she could get the drop on one and kill it before the fight ever began, then it would be much easier to take care of the other. Cool breaths entered sore lungs and escaped warm with new life. With each moment, the map in her mind shifted and formed for her. Of course, the forest trolls didn’t have the same scent tracking capabilities that she had, and they had no idea that she sat and waited for the perfect moment.

Being downwind provided her the perfect place to take a few moments to stop and see where they were headed. It was…strange though. As she took in another deep breath, their dirty, sweaty scent was mixing with something else that came along with the soft breeze. It wasn’t just the very specific scent that an elderly pair of forest trolls might have, no—there was something human there. Vic thought that the scent might actually be just some dead human that the trolls had been able to snag for a small snack sometime earlier in the day. A single hit from one of those ten foot (minimum) creatures was enough to turn any human’s bones into an irreparable crumble. It didn’t fit though. The longer a human was dead, the lighter the scent got, and this…it seemed to be getting stronger almost as if there was a human nearby in the park.

“Not good.” Victoria knew that if there was a human in the forest, there was only a matter of time before either she was seen or the trolls found them. That would make this whole situation a lot more difficult. She couldn’t just leave a human to die. It was strange. The scent was faint enough where it was hard to place it, but she could almost swear it was familiar to her. While she was almost certain that he was just waiting outside the park in case she needed help, the scent was very much not Arsenios’—that she was certain. Maybe it was just a default men’s cologne that she was smelling. It didn’t have to be anything more complicated than that—

“Victoria?” The voice that rang out from between the trees made her eyes widen. Nope. It was something much more complicated. The last thing that she had expected. The one thing she had wanted to forget about.

Marcus.

Victoria looked quickly through the white and brown to try and find the figure somewhere nearby. From the sound, she knew that he wasn’t too nearby. But how did he know?! Something wasn’t adding up, and yet, she still couldn’t find his form between the trees.

Another hard stomp rang off in the distance—it was beginning to get closer to her, and from what she could smell, Marcus had to have been just in between her and the trolls.

“It couldn’t be easy could it, Vic?” The words were uttered under her breath as she quickly picked herself up. She had to come up with some sort of plan. She had just saved his ungrateful hide; Vic wasn’t going to let him get killed just the day after. Everything in her mind was telling her that something was wrong, but as the steps grew closer and closer to their position, Victoria knew she had to act. The idiot had lured the beasts directly to his location, and she only had a minute more before even his human ears could pick up the sounds coming toward him.

“Marcus?!” She called out to him from her place in the tree. She hadn’t moved, but as the words were lost to the dampening area around, she took a running leap until she was five or so trees away from the sounds and smells. She still couldn’t see him, but each jump shook small fallings of snow toward the ground below. The footsteps had further quickened at the added voice. The trolls were looking for those trespassing on their land there.

The plan was actually complete shit, but it was the best that Vic could come up with on such short notice. This would only work if everything worked out the right way. The said a silent prayer to her gods above before raising her voice a little louder.

“Marcus, where are you? I can’t find you!” The words were a little happier, a small smile spread across rosy cheeks in an attempt to spread the happiness to her voice. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Stopping again, she could hear the sounds of the nearby city street. She could smell the scent of roasting cinnamon nuts on the sidewalk—a reminder that the holidays were just around the corner. Still, she did not see him or anyone else. She was trying to lure him away from the danger that lurked in the farther corners of this unknown land.

“Meet me at the park entrance! Marcus? I can’t find you!” She giggled loudly, acting as if he hadn’t run out of her apartment as if she were some advantageous floozy. Searching around the nearby trees, she jumped around until she found one that she could store her belongings in. She had to give him the slip—keep him waiting—or keep him thinking that she ran away from him again. Honestly, she didn’t care what he thought, as long as he didn’t travel back into the forest looking for her. To say the least, it was a pain. The trolls would be on high-alert when she arrived, so a sneak attack would not be something in the cards for today.

She once again found herself undressing in the falling snow. The chill ran up her spine, but she knew that the transformation would be quick and painless this time. Just into a Quadro—that’s all she needed for now. Dark hair led to dark fur that would keep her from being as blended in as she would have liked, but it wasn’t uncommon to see wild animals running around the park. Getting around him without being seen was going to be damn-near impossible, but as long as he didn’t see the human girl, she hoped everything would work out.

She could still smell him—his scent strengthened as he grew closer, but by this point, she was freezing and naked again. So, she changed. It was a fast transformation—one that she had grown very used to doing in the past years. Fur grew in at a rapid pace; bones shifted and changed until the young woman was no longer that, and warmth returned.

Taking her leap down from the tree, Victoria slowly padded around the trees, scanning them for the young man she was sure to see at some point. Getting behind him was the first step to getting to the trolls and killing them, so that idiot, ungrateful humans like Marcus didn’t end up becoming flesh-paste in the freshly fallen snow.

 

[DividesByZer0]

((OOC: In my late night delirium I was typing to the tunes of the obscure and macabre. Haunting yet soothing in it's repeated structure that is home to the harmony of the layered minimalistic melodies; perfect for late night rping. XD))




“Marcus?!” A familiar voice seemed to call out to him from in the trees. It had to be the wind carrying her voice he thought. She may have been crazy, but Vic seemed too old to be climbing trees. Footsteps pitter-pattered up the path and Marcus' brow raised. A jogger, he told himself, yet he clutched onto the peace-maker in his coat pocket. Perhaps even a mugger or some skag looking for ? He thought he had better find Victoria to keep her safe.

“Marcus, where are you? I can’t find you!” The words were cheery almost. Too cheery; something was wrong. Vic never came off as the bubbly type. He wondered if someone were insidiously forcing her call out to him at knife point. Fearing the worse, Marcus clutched tight to his blue steel before he drew a deep breath steadying his hand. Walking in the direction of her voice he detected the scent of cinnamon nuts that waffed in the air of the park. He hated cinnamon. It reminded him of the holidays the distant people he called family that made him feel alone as if in space drifting

“Meet me at the park entrance! Marcus? I can’t find you!” And giggle followed after. Marcus' mind began racing. Hadn't she been mad at him? Why would she be looking for him? Something was defiantly out of the ordinary and he readied himself for anything that may come.

"Vic, you feeling alright?" He wondered why he even bothered with this crazy chick. She flipped the script and became a different person seemingly on a whim. Marcus began to wonder if he did something to provoke their last encounter, or if Vic had been off her meds. Perhaps Vic was one of those bipolar nut jobs that are slaves to the voices in their head. Maybe she really did need help. Maybe in her mind he really did do something wrong and he was the only person in a place to notice.

Something flew through the trees. A squirrel? Marcus glanced about checking in all directions. His sense of encroaching danger caused an itchy twitch in his finger. The hair on his neck not only stood at attention in a salute to the unknown. Nothing alarmed Marcus like uncertainty, the unknown something which would devastate everything you worked so hard for instantly the moment you missed the signs of impending danger.

"Victoria!" He called out to her once again. This had better not be some game. He thought the worse case scenario would be shooting her, or some other innocent in his paranoid state. His hyper-vigilance got him burned from his career to begin with.

Marcus could her the sounds of something breaking. It sounded similar to breaking someone's arm. Telling himself a branch of a tree were more likely than an arm he began to wonder why Vic took so long to answer.

He continued deeper into the park along a winding path covered in fresh snow lit only by flickering incandescent bulbs which radiated what little heat they had to give in the cold of winter. Marcus' icy hands began to lose their feeling on the gun metal that resided in his pocket.

Again he heard the crackling sounds of something breaking, albeit faster than the last. Marcus didn't think it natural. His boot laden feet picked up the pace. The snow became slush from the friction of each step and caused him to slip for a moment.

"Vic where the hell--" Marcus stopped mid-sentence to gasp for air. The cold filled his lungs before he yelled at the sight of IT.

There just past the tree line was something... Other. Not quite big foot, but what the hell else could it be. He aimed his gun, adrenaline surging through his hands. The thing roared with a bestial wrath, Marcus could feel a palpitation as he face it down. Slime from it's protruding bottom teeth flung from it's stink breath and slapped Marcus in the face. Then there were two.

This must have been the thing he heard about. These dangerous creatures that the company warned him about had to be dealt with. He mustered what courage he could despite the urge to run, raised his pistol and began to fire round after round of .40 caliber sizzling copper tops.

"Vic run home!" He shrieked hoping she were no where to be found.

 

[FaithWynters]

​

That is not the exit. As bones and muscles had shifted, human words became an impossibility. Instead, silent huffs of air escaped a cool snout as the feline paced through the snow, following the unseen target. Each step was muffled by the snow falling around her. She was once again an uncommon object in an unfamiliar terrain, and once again she was faced with saving his life. As ungrateful as Marcus may have been, and as much as she was certain he would never trust her again, it was her job to keep him alive.

It took less than a minute for her to find him in this form. Even bastardized with the rotten stench that danced through the breeze, she could track him the hundred feet or so he had been away. Marcus had no chance of hearing her—even if he had wanted to see the two-hundred-pound feline stalking up behind him and making its way to the tree line. There was no way that she could just appear. No—if it were anything like their previous encounters, he would pull a weapon on her fast enough that she couldn’t stop him.

The problem was that he was going directly in the direction that he shouldn’t have been. Stupid human. He kept calling out for her. Desperately, she wanted to scream at him to just be quiet. The scent grew stronger, and before Vic could come up with a plan on how to keep him from walking directly in the path of the Trolls, she smelled the shift in scents.

Fear. It was thick and stopped Victoria in her tracks. It was…strange. Marcus was indeed human, but this was never something that she expected to see. His walls were coming down—crumbling in fact. Every divide of reality and fantasy was broken. Harry Potter might not have seemed too farfetched anymore. He was faced with something out of imagination and dreams that she didn’t expect him to even understand at first, but they were still there, staring him down from the edge of the trees.

The pair was something else. The male, with his thick arms and snot-colored skin, had been the first to make it into the clearing. With arms and thighs the size of young tree trunks, and tusks protruding from thick, slimy jowls, Victoria knew instantly that this wasn’t going to be an easy fight. He was older than she had been expected—and larger than any of the previous reports had stated. From its grip, a human’s carcass hung limply, their innards drug the dirt and was hardly recognizable. The female was even larger—as they oftentimes were, and cracked the branch off of a tree as she pushed past her smaller counterpart. There would be no more scent marking; the intruder would either be ripped apart or the mates wouldn’t make it out of the scenario alive.

The sounds of gunfire caught her off guard and made Vic jump; she had been so busy taking in the two for weaknesses that she hadn’t noticed that Marcus was still in the middle of the clearing. His voice, heightened with the adrenaline that rushed through him, broke her from her thoughts.

She was fast—faster than most in the Quadro form. Bounding across the clearing from his right in only a few seconds. The trolls had been looking for a fight, and a fight they found. Vic couldn’t hesitate as she grew closer, bullets whizzing past her shining form. Deep within her chest came a battle cry that seemed almost feral. It was a plea, for the Marcus to turn around when he ran out of bullets in his clip, and run. Vic launched herself forward on two strong back legs and cleared the distance between herself and the female forest troll. Mouth open and ready, the feline latched onto the soft spot of the throat, claws digging into the fleshy breast and shoulders.

Arsenios had been right. Without the drop on these two creatures, killing them would be a task far too great for just herself. Her focus was only to draw attention off the human and allow him time to get away. The male would surely come to protect his mate, and as the guttural noises began to escape from the female, he had turned toward the pair wrapped in their deadly dance.

Victoria only knew of her success for two strong hands gripped her haunches yanked hard enough to rip a thick piece of muscle from their mate’s throat as she came loose. It was obvious that trolls were not the brightest of creatures, but they were strong. The male gave his mate time to recuperate as he swung Vic’s body as if her were pillow fighting with the nearby tree. Once. Twice. By the third strike, Victoria only knew she was still being swung in the air by the sound of the tree cracking with each unforgiving blow. By the final strike, the troll threw her toward the center of the clearing and into the snow. Vic didn’t know why he had released her, and instead, tried to fight the dull throbs that were starting to poke through the adrenaline veil and pick herself up before he was able to come at her again.

 

[DividesByZer0]

​

A shadow blows past Marcus' vision. He snapped his neck to catch a glimpse of a giant cat. The panther-like creature viciously ravaged the arm of the giant troll. Marcus couldn't believe what he saw. It's real?! Not myth, nor story, but actual life and blood--not-so-fantasy. Things out of fairy tales come to life? Or were these things always real and we all just so ignorant to ignore centuries of warnings. Hell, the giant squid was only recently found a few years ago; if that's real what else stalked the darkness?

Marcus aimed to and fro between the targets, analyzing threats to himself and to others. The ogre swung the cat into a tree in his rage and in the instant Marcus new that creature had to go first. He ran toward the tree that cracked with each blow the cat sustained against the thick bark of it and as the beast wound up to toss it, Marcus jumped. His arms out reaching for the cat he clutched it tight into his chest midair.

Marcus slammed into the hard wood of an oak tree and his ribs compress into multiple fracture from the heavy cat squeezing what little air he had in his lungs. He coughed up crimson blood rich in oxygen and pain. His shaky grip on the gun reaching over the large body of the cat he thought might have tried to save him. He questioned the possible loss of his sanity, but if a chance existed this cat actually tried to help him it might be an asset.

He had fleeting memories of something that night he got attacked. The roar of an angry troll snapped him out of thought when a backhand came across his face hitting him harder than karma ever could. His neck strained as he tried to keep his neck attached to his body, and as he fell to his side he clutched his gun and took aim at the chest of the troll. He steadied his shaky hands and took aim for the thing's eye.

"You can't grow muscle around that, and if you bleed you can die." Marcus squeezed in time with his exhalation. The bullet seared out the muzzle of his gun at 1,230 feet per second. The crack of the supersonic projectile breaking the sound barrier slapped Marcus' eardrum and all he could hear was the dim hum of nothingness. The large troll's head knocked back and his knees buckled.

*THUD*

The creature's knees dug deep into the dirt leaving craters side by side. The other seemingly roared in a rage and ripped a tree from it's roots. Swinging the log like a gigantic club the creature aimed to make Marcus and the cat into a ground meat.

A roll to the side and they narrowly escape the tree trunk that plummets into the dirt next to them. Marcus makes it to his feet, with thoughts of Victoria and her safety as well as the other's he was tasked to protect he thought of how to rid the park of this... thing.

As a last ditch effort it came to him. He fired some shots at the beast more so to piss it off than anything else and taunted it to him. He stood on thin ice in the park and as the creature came closer, Marcus' emptied as many bullets as he had left to make the ice below the creature give way the the icy depths freezing water below the ice. The creature flailed about shirking in equal parts rage and surprise. Had Marcus won?

He lit a cigarette on the heat of his gun barrel and exhaled a thick smog of smoke into the cool air. A quick call to the company he only said these simple words. "2 OTH (other than human) down in central park west. Request a cleanup crew and some clothing. Also we need a white coat to take a look at this..." He stumbled for the right words, "Cat thing". Marcus couldn't believe all the stories he had read as a kid were beginning to take hold in true to life form.

Then he remembered. Victoria called for him earlier didn't she? He scanned all about but could not see a trace of her. "Victoria!" He called out again. He had hoped she got away safe, but part of him wondered if maybe she knew more than she let on. The curtains... He thought of what could have ripped those like that. Maybe... Maybe she lied to him because she too couldn't believe; or would not believe anyone would listen to such a ludicrous story.

Regardless of the new found development, it was indeed real and he needed to learn more about how to kill these things in the future. This was the underground war of the century,

[FONT]

 

[FaithWynters]

​

He had known very well that the young woman oftentimes dug herself in a little too deep. He also had known his friend for many years and knew when things didn’t seem quite right with her. While usually he would have allowed his younger counterpart to continue on with her business without worry, there was something in his gut that told him that turning and walking away wasn’t the best choice this time. Of course, the man was confident in her ability, and chose instead to wait for her need. The gods had guided him, but sometimes these feelings were for nothing and needed only to be acted on by the cautious.

Arsenios knew things weren’t right when he heard the first of many gunshots. Even from his place on the cold and unforgiving homeless man’s bed, he could hear them clear as day. While gang violence wasn’t uncommon throughout the streets of Blackwater, this was…different. The shots weren’t just some small little handgun a thug might carry under his coat to reinforce some false sense of security he needed to make threats seem real. No—this was different. Before the third shot had reached his ears, he was gone.

“Central park west—human contact.” Victoria did not carry a gun, especially not one of that caliber. The two of them were far too old-school for that, and weaponry such as that wasn’t usually provided by the Order. “Yes.” Solid feet made imprints in freshly fallen snow as he tracked her scent. “No info on the situation; Vic was going to kill them, but there’s gun—” There’s a pause as he stops next to a tree. “Yes.” Another short pause, he knew very quickly that the scent he had been following had not stopped at this tree for long, and Arsenios knew why it was so strong. “As it is the God’s will.”

Sliding the phone in stone-washed jeans, bear-like hands grasp the tree and made it to the lowest branch quickly. She had enough time to leave her pack. He needed to be fast. Without thinking, he grabbed the pack, threw it on his back, and launched himself down from the tree and toward the new sounds coming from deeper within the trees.

It wasn’t difficult for him to track her familiar scent. There were very few scents they had found to smell almost the same, but hers wafted through the breeze like the lightest scents of water lily on the edge of Great Prespa lake. Not only could he smell her, but as he grew closer, he heard the sounds of battle. First it was only a single battle cry, but it changed and shifted. As the wind changed in scents, he broke into a run.

Most of what was happing was a blur to her. It was a battle between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to keep herself from transforming into her larger and much more powerful form. The taste of copper mixed with the already present grit and mud of the female troll’s blood. If Victoria transformed, there was no promise that once she finished killing the two trolls that something stupid wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t take the chance of getting a bullet in her back from Marcus or ripping him limb from limb until there was nothing left but a skull to crush between her palms. It was hard to focus, and even as her large body was caught by her own hero, she had to fight just to keep her eyes open as a broken form fought in the heat of the moment to fix itself and stay alive. Yet she couldn’t release her own will this time.

Extraction. While he would have been more than overjoyed to pull the troll’s heads from their shoulders and leave them on a pike at the edge of the forest, that was not what he had been instructed to do. Extract the injured and get out. They would send out a different team to take care of whatever was left of the trolls.

By the time Arsenios had made it to the edge of the clearing, one of the trolls had already been dropped. Dark eyes watched the human as he ran from the body and toward the nearby pond. Who was he? Scanning the edges of the forest, there was no one else. Just a single human man who seemed to face these huge creatures with a warrior’s instinct of uncensored wrath and determination. Eyes scanning back over the snow caught the black mass still on the ground—seemingly forgotten at the time. From where Arsenios stood he could not see the panther’s face. Instead, he could smell the lilies mixing with the thick scent of metal and could see the slightest rise and fall of its chest. It was hard to tell what had happened, only that something about the form didn’t look right.

Unzipping the pack for just a moment, Arsenios pulled the light throw from inside. Victoria kept it inside just uncase a human went into shock after being attacked—the young woman had always been much more aware of little things like this than he ever had. It made her an incredibly important asset on tracking parties and hunts. Just in case she changed back, he would want to protect her decency.

He needed to be very aware. Cautious. Arsenios broke into a quick walk across the clearing. The human was still busy. Armed with his own silver crucifix to fight away the real demons of this world, it surprised Arsenios how well he seemed to handle himself. He couldn’t fight the thoughts that drifted through his mind of how impressive it was. In his culture, to become a great warrior, one needed to be able to appreciate when another excelled at something under pressure—even if they were a far better warrior than the one they appreciated at the time.

As he grew closer, it was obvious now why the form didn’t look quite right. He could see no bullet holes, so it hadn’t been the human to put her in this state—no. This was a point to over a thousand years of genetics. It was the worse he had ever seen anyone after trolls had gotten to them—besides completely dead of course, and it was the worse shape he’d ever come across Vic after battle.

Bones in the rib cage had been mercilessly snapped and had caved in. In places, it looked as if bone were just a few more hundred pascals of pressure away from breaking the skin. Instead, it stretched taught and turned usually pink skin white. Splintered tree unmercifully stuck into the black pelt, mixing the fur with deep gashes of blood. Even one of the hind legs had been dislocated—probably as easily as a human might pull apart a chicken thigh. She was…rough, and as he got closer, Arsenios could hear the threatening sounds coming from the misshapen form. The start of a hiss mixed with the gurgling as blood danced up the back of the throat, fighting for an escape onto the once-white snow. It was certain she would recover—that’s what were-creatures like herself had been made to do. Endurance was the name of the game, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be a painful process.

“Its alright, Victoria.” These were the first words he had spoken since he had called in the situation. “Its Arsenios.” Eyes flicked silently between the mangled form and the man standing on the pond. “I’m here to take you to hea—”

”Two OTH—“ Eyes turned into slits as he caught the sounds of the human. He was…on the phone, and talking to someone just as coolly as if he had just gone to get coffee. ”Cat thing.” The two of them would be leaving this clearing in body bags before anyone took her. Arsenios was ready to change and give the human something he could really battle, but instead, he turned his attention back to Victoria; the stupid human probably had no idea that there was a person behind the panther.

“I have your pack; we need to go.” She stopped hissing. The muffled voices made everything sound like she was in a deprivation tank, and black splotches began to shift over her half-lidded vision. If she were to die by the hands of Marcus, then she would accept its swiftness; even after his words she had no idea it was Arsenios that pulled the blanket over her form.

It was going to hurt, but he didn’t have time to make her comfortable. Victoria couldn’t feel much. Just a few pings of her muscles tightening up and relaxing as a natural reaction to her condition was it. It was the swift movement of getting picked up that knocked her just a little more into reality. She was snapped out of the stuffy feeling that had surrounded her mind as she heard someone shout her name and sharp bone prodded at nerves.

Arsenios was certain that by this point the human would have seen him and made his way back toward the two. How had he known Victoria’s name? How did the two know each other? He had hoped, in his frantic state, the human had no more bullets left in his gun to shoot at him with. What rooted him to the spot was not fear—no, he stopped as Victoria finally lost the last bit of energy that had been keeping her in form. Bones bent, cracked, and popped as she transformed back into the beautiful form he had grown to love as a sister warrior. Her body knew things weren’t right as it tried to shift pieces of herself into places that weren’t there anymore and the quiet whining that had been in a frequency far too high for his ears to pick up slowly became its own blind, gurgling, whimpers in pain. She couldn’t fix herself quite yet—no, that would take some time. Instead, weak eyes closed, and Arsenio readjusted her in his large arms, readying himself for whatever this human decided to pull on him. Maybe the two were friends and he had truly come to her aid, but by the sounds of his words on the phone, he was certain that wasn’t going to be the case. Once she lay still again, he kept his eyes glued to the human as he started toward the edge of the clearing.

 

[DividesByZer0]

​

​

Marcus thought he must have been dreaming. These things couldn't exist. Just the kinds of fairy tales we tell our kids to invoke a sense of imagination; to take their minds off the troubles of the world. Or that's what he always told himself. Like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. When did he stop believing in Santa Claus? When did he realize that the aliens, time-travelers, ghosts, monsters and magic spells in those stories didn't actually exist either. Unfortunately, reality is surprisingly banal... No one got super powers. He never saw a UFO. Hours of intense staring didn't make his pencil move a single millimeter, and glaring at people's heads didn't reveal their thoughts either. He couldn't help but get depressed at how normal the laws of physics were. He began to stop watching for UFOs and paying attention to paranormal TV shows because he finally convinced himself it was impossible. He even reached a point where he only had a sense of nostalgia for those things.

After high school, he completely grew out of that fantasy world and became utterly grounded in reality. Nothing happened, even though he kept hoping that something would; mankind hadn't returned to the moon or gone beyond it. From the way thing's looked he never would have given any of it a second thought. Until the day he met Victoria Lev.

As she lay there under another large panther-like cat that he presumed to be one of, her kind, he met the cold gaze of the poised beast. He readied himself in an archer's stance encase it would pounce, his fingers itching at his trigger, and his breaths slow and assured. The "zone", the place where there is no sound, but one's own heart beat and there is no distance between you and your target. This was the place where you go when you need to put a bullet between the eye's of a moving target 6 foot ball fields away. This was the place where you go when you need to shoot the wing's off a fly and this was the place Marcus came to now, ready to triple tap the beast; 2 in the chest center mass and 1 in the head.

"She needs to go to a hospital." He said finally, not sure if that thing could understand human speech or not. "I'm taking her." He added before taking a step or so closer. Marcus knew that with all the echos of gun shots there would be someone coming soon. Police, or even the company. He knew watchers like to patch into traffic camera feeds and they probably knew he came into the park. No cameras here, but with him in the vicinity and the guns going it was likely someone would come take a gander.

Marcus built his resolve, took a breath and walked forward like The Terminator, unyielding, cold, and calculated. If this thing would rip his face off that would not stop him from taking her to get patched up. He would gouge it's eye's out, punch it on the nose and do what ever it took. His feet stopped as Victoria laid before him. Never taking his eyes off the beast he scooped the frail girl into his arms and carried her in his arms. He took steps backwards from the cat with the girl.

"I'm leaving." His tone stern and his grip on her tightening...



The stench of the city hits him with a Jolt, it says welcome to Black Water. The chilly northwest air obscures his vision as he steps onto the sidewalk with Vic. Before long, he is sitting in the cramped backseat of a cab. Following the signal from his phone's gps into the heart of the city. Mercy Hospital--a legal chop shop for body parts... whether from the living or the dead. If you're hurting bad enough for money, this is the place to sell a limb or an organ. It's also a good place to dispose of an inconvenient body while making a little cash on the side.

This franchise is closer to a morgue than a place of healing. It seems this is the closest hospital, the only one in Black Water, and the cheapest. He opened the door and is assaulted by the smell of death and bleach.

"Hey I need help here!." Marcus said as he clung to her lifeless and bleeding body.

"Sure sure." A dwarf sized man with a white coat said in a squeaky groan. "You want to sell her heart? It's good, but her type? Junkie perhaps? The liver is shot, I would bet."

"No I need her patched up!"

 

[FaithWynters]

​

Deep Breath. It was hard, but she managed one. Eyes looked across the bright pulsating dance floor, searching...for something—someone—anyone. She felt it as her lungs reached their maximum capacity. The hiccup that came unexpectedly with a sharp pain in her side took her breath away again. With one too many drinks in her, the expanse ahead of her was all she knew. In heels a little too tall for her light headedness, she walked—stumbled—toward the bar. The keep had cut her off a few shots ago, but that didn’t keep her from indulging the lonely to provide an escape for herself—and get free drinks. Bodies ground against one another in hope of creating something more than sweaty thoughtless lust.

“I’m leaving” The words were more aggressive than she had expected from him. There was a sternness she never remembered as the form walked up behind her and ran a hand sloppily against her bare thigh. She remembered that. The sweat from hours of dancing mixed with dirt and grime from an unknown source. Something in the back of her mind told her to say no, and she tried—but the words never came.

“Buy me another drink and I’ll go home with you.” The voice didn’t even sound like her own. The deep caress of forced want brushed the edges of each word. She turned on him, purring and nipping at his ear. For her, this is what she was living for. It seemed that tonight she had pushed him a little too far. His face glared at her—stiff as stone. Before her muddled senses could even react, a hand struck across her face and all she could see was white…

The roof of a car and dark cloth. Strong arms encapsulating her. A chill from the open window. The slight jogging of a nervous leg that dug small pieces of wood into her lower back. A quiet moan. Was that her or someone else? The thick scent of fear and worry and Marcus. Marcus... She tried to get her lips to form his name, but she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t even sure he knew she was awake. He was worried with barking directions at the driver in the front seat. Her body needed all the energy it could get, and as Victoria attempted to pull on his jacket to get his attention, her eyes fell closed, and she was back in the bar.

“You’ll be coming home with me anyway.” The words were full of venom. The sting still radiated heat—she remembered the welt that came only a little time afterwards. For some reason, her reaction wasn’t to accept it—no—the first thing that she had wanted to do was laugh. In her sloppy-drunk state that was the reaction her brain had formulated as she held her weight up on the bar. It was the first time she had realized how fucked her life had truly gotten. It was the first time she retaliated. Beautifully manicured nails formed a fist that knocked out teeth and left the young were crumpled on the floor with what was left of his pride.

As the memory faded into darkness, Vic was sure she could hear something—and feel everything. The slamming of a car door, the groaning of her muscles as her body slowly made attempts of putting her ribs back together. It was what she believed Skele-Gro might feel like had she been in taken to the hospital wing after a bad Quidditch accident. Marcus might think that was a peculiar thought—especially now. Anything to distract her. Her brain fighting frantically to find something to pull Victoria out of the situation. Knees bumping together in a not-so-subtle display. Smiles. Tea and Honey. Paris. Egypt…

She could smell it before she could force her eyes open. Antiseptic mixed with mold. It was a scent that no one would seek out. No longer were there arms around her, but he was still there. Vic’s mind had been keeping a close eye on the strength of his scent. Victoria could feel the pieces of wood clawing at her back again, but she missed the security she had felt more than she couldn’t stand the pain. She needed to wake up.

“I can’t—” Eyes opened to overbearing lights passing in front of her vision. One. Two. Three. She counted, and each number seemed to pull her a little more back into reality. The pain was a lot, but it was manageable. She needed to tell them that her bank account couldn’t afford this. Hell—the cab to get here would probably overdraft her measly savings. Eyes lulled across the expanse of her vision. It was still difficult to move her head.

Victoria hadn’t felt the needle in the back of her hand, and it took her a moment to realize that the fuzziness that surrounded her was because of something they were pumping into her. A sharp gasp shook her form and for a moment, even the meds weren’t enough to fight off the ripping feeling as she inhaled just a little too deeply. Once again, the pain was gone.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Twelve. Twelve. Nine. Ten. She was losing count. Marcus. Where was he? Eyes rolling again, she didn’t see him. She could only see another figure pushing her along. Gooseflesh pushed across her skin.

“No.” It was a weak attempt at stopping them, swiping her arm toward the unrelenting medical tape that held it in place. A strong hand—the owner of which she couldn’t see—wrapped around the small needle invading the space on her wrist, keeping her from pulling too hard.

She knew this place. The Hospital. A safe haven for humans to come, stich up past wounds, and keep themselves healthy. Mercy had a whole other side for specials. Maybe it was just a thick veil of rumor and tall-tales, but Victoria had never taken her chances with this place. Once you were out, what could be done? What medical instruments would they use to cut her open, take her apart, and try to put her back together again? What would they do to try and replicate her regeneration? She much preferred the natural way of healing.

“I have to leave.” Her vision was clouding more and more by the second and Victoria fought with all her might to keep the grogginess at bay. She medicine kept the pain away, and it gave her enough of a weak boost to try and pull herself off of the table that had rolled itself into a large brightly-lit room.

“Lay down.” It wasn’t a request. Her body denied her, and Victoria felt the hard table beneath her once more. “We’ll take care of you ma’am; don’t you worry.”

“Let me go…please.” She begged like a child, hot tears welling up in half-lidded eyes.

“Just lay back and relax.” The words were a coo in the back of her mind, and as much as she wanted to fight what was going on around her, the darkness overtook her before she had a chance.

 

[DividesByZer0]

​

“I can’t—” Victoria's eyes opened for a fleeting moment as Marcus searched her face for some semblance of the woman he came to care for.

"You can." He assured her, although he wasn't quite sure what she doubted. However he knew that she could do anything. He believed in that and hoped that some way it was reassuring. "I believe in you. Stay with me." He said as the bed swung around the corner through a double door.

The nurse shooed Marcus' hand away as she stuck an IV needle in the back of Vic's hand, and the moment brought an anxious feeling to Marcus. He wondered if Vic would have an easier knowing he was there or not. Perhaps he couldn't hope to be much of a comfort to a half conscious woman he had only met but a few days before hand, but part of him felt that there was something more. It wasn't just his imagination. The tea cups! He thought which brought him a moment of solace.

"Remember?" He asked as if maybe she could feel what he felt. "The tea cups." were the only words he could muster in an effort to describe a feeling so indescribable. Something that could not be put into words nor remain silent.

“No.” She said as the medical tape held her IV in place. Did she not remember? Marcus couldn't help but feel his heart sink for a moment. Perhaps she was really out of it. She did lose a lot of blood. "I have to leave.” She began to fight the all the help everyone tried to give her.

"Vic you need to let the Doc and the Nurses do their thing." Marcus tried as his palm gently stroked her head. "They are trying to help." He hoped somewhere down in there she could hear him.

“Lay down.” The nurse tried to get through to her. “We’ll take care of you ma’am; don’t you worry.”

“Let me go…please.” Victoria whined.

“Just lay back and relax.” The doctor said as he began to push 2 mg's of calming ativan. Victoria's body went slack as she loosened up.

Marcus waited and waited as they prepped for Trauma surgery. They patched her up over the course of an hour or so and told Marcus that she would pull through, but she lost a lot of blood. They weren't sure when she would regain consciousness but he was welcome to stay with her.

In her hospital room he pulled up a chair and sat by her side, his hand clutching hers, as he gently pet the back of her hand with his other. He hoped that this was all some weird shity dream.

"Vic..." He tried to reach through to her. "I never quite go the chance to tell you, and maybe it's stupid, but I'm..." He searched for words. "I hope you get better. You can't..." He remember she said that herself. "You can't die. You can't give up." He corrected. "I... I want to see you again. I want to talk with you about nerdy stuff and harry potter and all the things we left unspoken." He clutched her hand ever so tighter.

"There is a lot we have not had the chance to say. So much that I wanted to learn and share." He wasn't sure where he was going or why he even felt the way he did. It was more than strange, but there was just something... something more.

"Listen, I maybe the shitiest person in the world at showing it, but I consider you a friend. Hell I can count all the friends I have on one hand and that makes you pretty damn important. The word to me is more than these face-space, my-book clowns with a gaggle of so called 'friends' that they assort in a list of importance. So don't you go on leaving just yet." He felt like his eyes burned on the verge of tears that he fought back.

Why was he crying? He didn't cry. He was a man! He could hear the voice of his parents telling him to "Suck it up buttercup" And he choked back those weak feelings. No, she would be ok. She would pull through and he would get to have all those conversations with her he wanted to finish. He would get to share his love for nerdy things and all the mutual understandings between them where he knew he would say, I thought I was the only one!

"Vic." He tried over and over about every half hour as he waited and waited... The minutes became hours as he sat there listening to the sound of her slow breathing. He laid his head down on the side of the bed and if he listened hard enough he could hear the sound of her heart beating.

Bump, Bump. Bump, Bump... Loud and consistent it was strong and calming. Her heart beat and he knew that she was still there fighting. She had a lot of... spunk? fight? spirit? What ever it was called she had a crap ton of it! And as he listened he felt himself drifting off into a black void of unconsciousness; some semblance of sleep. He had flashes of his days as a child spending many Christmases in hospitals caring for his Father. He never did forget that smell...

His breathing slowed and his head rested by her side. But her scent... Her scent was calming. She was a breath of that proverbial...

Zzz.

He sank deeper into nothingness.

 

[FaithWynters]

​

For the most part, her rest had come in the form of limbo. Her body was healing and it needed every bit of energy it could gather to effectively repair itself. At some point, Victoria was greeted by the pitter-pattering of memory. She was privy only to the smallest of visions. A plan to lure Marcus away from the danger. Why had he been in the park? How had he known she was there? The shaking of the trees. Seeing him in the clearing, going toe-to-toe with a forest troll as if it was nothing. He was certainly human. Stupid human… Something didn’t add up. She was caught in the inescapable cycle of the same memories as her brain tried to lazily pick apart the pieces into something that made some sense. Through it all, she had never lost his scent. He never left her.

. . .
​

“And you just gave her up?” Half-hearted irritation intertwined with the wispy words that floated into the silence.

“My order was to extract.” He was heavy with regret. “As it is the gods will…” The darkness shrouded around the two forms. A hand arose from where the darkened figure lay, danced around slumped shoulders and thin fingers began rubbing solid muscle slowly. “I tried to extract her, but—they wouldn’t have taken her in at The Hill.” The two both knew. If it had been his orders to leave her, then The Order was expecting to clean up the remains of her carcass with the trolls. “He wasn’t going to let me leave without forcing me to take his—”

“Hush” The word was soft but was more of an order than consolement.

“Bijoux—I—”

“Hush, Arsenios. I shall find her.” The hand returned to the darkness, and silence fell on the small room.

. . .​

Something had changed. Instead of padding across the new dusting of snow, she walked briskly. The cold sunk through the skin of Victoria’s bare arms and made her shiver at its merciless grasp. A breeze had picked up that hadn’t been there before. Something wasn’t quite right, but as her vision cleared, the dream dragged her along with it.

“Victoria?” She was apprehensive at this new path the two of them walked, as he walked up to face her, and for the first time in this hell, she had been able to look him in the face and smile. Did she try to explain? Yes! She needed to explain. No more secrets. Just walk along the long snow-covered pathways to the rhythmic mechanical beeping that had been invading her limbo for the past little while and talk. “What happened?” His voice broke through the silence before her mind had stopped processing anything. Beep. Beep. Beep. It flowed through the rhythm.

Concern. Is that what that tone was? It certainly wasn’t the walled off Marcus she had met only a few days ago who had pointed a gun at her on his bedroom floor and insisted she was some harlot out for money neither of them had.

“Look that doesn’t matter right now. We need to leave before you get hurt.” The hard footsteps could be felt vibrating through the soles of her shoes. Beep. Beep. Beep. Solid as stone. Pulling did nothing; Marcus just stood watching her.

“Victoria…” Reaching up, he brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into Vic’s face. The touch was much lighter than she had anticipated. “Where are you? Where has he taken you?”

“No…” This wasn’t Marcus. This was someone else; this was someone incredibly familiar. In the depths of her mind, she could not place the voice as it slowly morphed between the warmth of Marcus and chill of her—whoever she was—like a lava lamp—pulling away and becoming its own entity before cooling and coming back to meld into the rest of the lava.

“Tell Bijoux where you are, baby.” Features began to squash together into a hybrid of friend—old and new. Victoria finally understood. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“I don’t know.” A soft sigh.

“That is to be expected.” The voice cut between Marcus’ and Bijoux as Vic’s brain fought to keep control and kick the marchand out. “Wake up and find me, Victoria; you know where.”

No more shifting. Just Marcus. Marcus was back and smiling as if nothing had ever happened. There was no way for Vic to know if Bijoux had completely gone. BeepBeep. The smile shifted. Eyes darkened. Happy turned into sickly sweet into utterly terrifying. BeepBeepBeep. She was losing time. Hands tightly wrapping around her small waist. The grin of a cold-blooded killer. Vic was on the ground. Marcus was laughing. A flash of snogging to ease the pain. There was a gun to her head.

“Fucking Freak.”

. . .​

She wasn’t sure how long it had been. Long enough that the lights outside the window were no longer that of the retreating fall sun, but that of great flood lights in the parking lot. It was familiar. The scent and the feeling. This was not the first time she had awoken in a room very similar to this with the sounds of gunshots still ringing in her ears. Then it had been for a much different reason.

There was tightness everywhere. Victoria’s legs felt as if they were covered in ants that just walked up and down her legs with frozen little feet. She didn’t notice at first, but as her senses came back to her she noticed the figure that lay crumpled up in the seat beside her.

Marcus was still here? Thoughts flashed back to the sight that had thrown her from her dreams. Instinctively, her grip tightened before she could realize that her hand had been intertwined with his own sleeping form. If he had wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t have brought her to this medical facility. It was Mercy, right? She remembered putting two and two together sometime while she was bleeding out and being doped up. Maybe that was just another figment of her imagination. Knowing him, just her movement would wake him, and she raised her hand to pull the clip off of her finger.

“Marcus.” The world spun around her as she raised her head from the pathetically flat pillow. “Wake up. We have to go Marcus.” Whether he intended on going with her or not, she was very certain that the speed in which she recovered from her wounds would surely raise a few eyebrows. That was a conversation Victoria didn’t intend on having any time soon with any medical professional in this damned chop shop.

“I can’t stay here.” The words were more to herself than to anyone else in the room. Victoria returned her attention to the needle sticking inside of her. She wasn’t particularly sure if ripping the damned thing out would mess anything up, but she reached her arm across anyway and began pulling on the tape that held the it in place.

 

[DividesByZer0]

​

“Wake up. We have to go Marcus. I can’t stay here.” Victoria picked at the needle in her arm.

Risen from sleep, Marcus could understand not wanting to stick around the hospital for people in his line of work. But Vic was a civvy and he saw no reason she needed to leave with all those wounds...

Wounds?

"Vic you... you were hurt." His inflection trailed up into a question more than a statement. His right eye brow shot up inquisitively and in that moment he fought the urge to react. People don't just wake up with out wounds. They scab and scar, and they lay in hospital beds for days. He should know after all; it wasn't his first rodeo.

"I think you should talk to the doctor first about being discharged. You can't just leave with out your discharge papers. You wouldn't want some body serving you court appearance papers for ditching out on your medical expenses." He stood from his chair and peered out the door, looking for a nurse or someone.

"Hey, my friend is up. She would like to get discharged." He waved over a nurse, who came in and insisted on privacy for her patient. Marcus reluctantly stepped outside and waited.

The Nurse closed the door and turned on her heel. "Don't you pick at that IV." She admonished while pulling a latex glove tight, it snapped against her wrist like a rubber band. "I'm nurse Mercy." She said, sticking a syringe into a bottle of liquid and sucked out dry.

"You look agitated. Let me help you." Her lips curled up into a crooked grin. She screwed on the needle to the IV and started to pump Vic with an innocuous tranquilizer. "We have... tests to run." Her gloved hand ran up and down Victoria's healed body. "So many tests..."

 

[FaithWynters]

​

“Marcus—No. That’s not a good id—” Before she could even try to answer his questions or stop him he had pushed the sleep from his eyes and exited out of the door. “Fuck.” The sleep was wearing off quickly and her agitation grew. She didn’t want to talk to a doctor. Vic needed to get the hell out of dodge before the wrong people got involved. It didn’t take her long to find a few things around the room that she could use if she needed to. To her right was a small nightstand. It didn’t seem to house too much of anything besides a dusty fake hope lily in a ceramic pot and a hardcover Bible in the drawer. That would have to do if things went sour and she needed to start throwing things.

In the seconds she had, she began picking at the medical tape attaching the IV to the back of her hand. The tape curled at its ends just enough to rip out at a moment notice if needed. There was the tapping of high heels on the tile outside and the sounds of a woman talking to—who Victoria could only assume was—Marcus.

"Don't you pick at that IV." Vic dismissed the words almost immediately as the woman walked closer to her. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t pick up on her scent. She couldn’t smell the vague scent of human, but there wasn’t anything that lead her to believe the nurse was some other creature either. It was in that moment that it registered that the nurse was pulling something out of a bottle. That was not discharge. That was subdue.

Wait. Wait. Wait. The woman started busying herself with trying to affix the syringe to the IV with whatever she decided to give her. This was it; she was close enough now. With her free hand, she balled up her fist and hit the nurse as hard as she could. The sound of bones breaking into tiny little pieces was followed by the sound of her crashing back into the tray table that had been pushed to the side and forgotten. The very familiar scent of blood wafted through the room.

For the time being, the nurse was sprawled out on the ground and still. Vic didn’t care if she was going to get back up. The syringe hung limply from its place in the IV. She didn’t know if the nurse had gotten anything in, and if so, what her timeframe was before she was out again. With a hard yank, she pulled the IV out, and it fell, forgotten onto the floor. Once again, she had successfully made herself bleed, but she didn’t have time to care.

“Marcus!” There was obviously no chance for subtleties anymore—Vic knew there would only be fighting her way out of this hospital now. The name transformed into a snarl as she dashed to the door in nothing more than the robes she had been given upon arrival to the hospital. In her blind anger, she kicked the door open so hard that the doorframe splintered.

“Look. For once, I need you to fucking listen to me.” The irate young woman hadn’t made it through the doorway before she began talking. Marcus had a place in the hallway. Obviously, he had no idea what was going on. It seemed that the rumors about Mercy hospital and specials going missing were true. She was disappointed he couldn’t put two and two together, but at the same time, found it difficult to hold his ignorance against him. “If I stay here, I will disappear and no one will ever be able to find me.” She gritted her teeth. “And if you leave this place with out me, there are going to be some people coming for you that do not give a fuck what kind of river siren sucks out your soul and keeps you as a pet.” She heard groaning from inside the room, and a few of the nurses had started to move toward the noise. She shot a glare behind her. “I can explain everything later when you’re safe.”

“Get. Her.” A thick shrill voice came from inside the room Victoria had just occupied.

“I thought I hit you harder than that.” She grumbled quietly turning to sum up the few nurses that seemed to be coordinating how they were going to subdue her—and her partner if he decided to help. This was a dangerous game for her to play. She couldn’t make too much of a scene or even The Order wouldn’t get their hands dirty with this. There were four nurses blocking the path toward the central area of the hospital. Some seemed genuinely confused at what was going on in front of them, and to the others it seemed like this was just par for the course. All were summing up this tiny young thing in a paper gown as if she couldn’t hurt a fly. Victoria could see the confidence in their eyes.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down.” One of the elders spoke up from in front of the group. Victoria gave another worried glance at Marcus. Her head was swimming, and the young woman wasn’t quite certain if that was the little bit of something the nurse might have given her or the fact that her body was still trying to replenish the blood lost in the fight with the trolls.

“Hope you can keep up.” The words were low and she gave him a smirk. Before any of the nurses could make a move toward them, she turned around and shot down the hallway. She wasn’t sure where the hallway would lead them, but she was sure hospitals were required to have multiple exits in case of fire, and there had to be a way out that kept Vic from ripping apart a half dozen nurses in the process.

​

 

[DividesByZer0]

​

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots. Each pot hung on the ends of a pole, which she carried across her shoulders. Every day, she used this device to carry water to her home.

One of the pots was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. The other had a deep crack in it and leaked. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this situation occurred daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the woman one day by the stream, saying, “I am ashamed of myself because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”

The old woman smiled and replied, “Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side? I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walked back home you watered them and made them grow. For two years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table and give to my friends and neighbors. Without you being just the way you are, there would not have been this special beauty to grace our homes and lives.”

Sometimes, it’s the “cracks,” or what we perceive as imperfections, in this reality that create something unexpected and beautiful. These “cracks” allow something to change and ultimately make the whole much richer and more interesting. Every thing and every being has its own unique purpose and destiny to fulfill. This is one of the great beauties of The Tao.

​

“Marcus! Look. For once, I need you to fucking listen to me. I stay here, I will disappear and no one will ever be able to find me. And if you leave this place with out me, there are going to be some people coming for you that do not give a fuck what kind of river siren sucks out your soul and keeps you as a pet. I can explain everything later when you’re safe.” Vic raved like a mad woman and only furthered Marcus' suspicion that she needed to be here. Maybe she had a concussion? Perhaps she were bipolar, or a schizophrenic? Whatever the case he couldn't help, but want answers especially from the warm and cold again way she had treated him. Why so sweet and charming with a shared fondness of Harry Potter and dorky things, to that raving 'what did you do to me?' accusations as if he were the cause of the seemingly bipolar mania that destroyed her room.

“Get. Her.” A shrill tone and an accursed finger pointed at Vic.

“I thought I hit you harder than that.” She answered back. Marcus looked worried. She had hit her nurse? The woman who was caring for her?

"Vic what's going on with you? Are you OK? Let the nurse help you. She only wants to see you get better. No one is out to get you." Marcus pleaded.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down.” An orderly held his hands out in front of him at the ready. Victoria glanced at Marcus and he thought the lights were on but no one was home.

“Hope you can keep up.” She said, before bolting down the hallway in a hospital gown, her back side flashing all as she passed. Marcus looked on dumb founded. Asking the staff to be gentle with her and that explained that she was special to him. Hard to admit for him, especially in their short time together. Maybe it was the whimsical coffee mugs, maybe it was the way that they connected over the strange events in this God forsaken town, or the way that both of them were cracked pots. Whatever the case he did want some answers.

He sighed. Fuck it. He took off in the other direction to the right, knowing the hallway came back around in a big square he would meet her on the other side. He jukes around a medicine cart, spins around a nurse who came out a doorway yelling at him "no running", and hurdled over an empty bed in the hall. Finally, he spots her around the bend coming up ahead. In the middle of a hall were they met a janitor mopped the floor. Marcus slides into Vic and holds her tight, "Vic, they are only trying to help you."

The nurses catch up to them. Orderlies yoke her away from Marcus and he feels a tinge of guilt as they pump her full of Ativan, Haldol, Geodon, and Thorazine. The needle gives way to a spot of blood as they pull it out her exposed bottom.

"Clearly she is Agitated; Is the medical terminology they give to strip you of your rights and keep you sedated. Marcus knew this because once upon a time he worked in the hospital, but those days were long gone.

Marcus was completely dumbfounded by the good Doctor's words and eyed him suspiciously. Maybe the Doctor was right. Why are the beautiful ones always bat shit crazy? He wondered why he always attracted a hot mess.

"Does she have anyone you know of that we can contact?" The doctor asked him.

"No one that I know of. I think..." He thought maybe she was alone like he was. Sure he had coworkers and the odd friend or two, but there was nothing worse in the world than being surrounded in a world full of people that made you feel alone. That she quite possibly was the one person he felt would get his weird dorky sense of humor. He thought back to her tea cups with a small sense of solace. Maybe they could make her better.

"Well she is unfit to make decisions of her own care, you don't have power of attorney do you?" The Doctor asked, his lips turning up into a crooked grin.

"No I don't, but if it's all the same I would like to stay with her." He requested.

"Sorry family only." The Doctor shut him down and they hauled her off. Six men carried her off to the psychiatric wing.

​

As she lay there the good doctor runs the flat of his velvet hands upon her stomach and across her chest. The tips of his fingers gliding creepily over her skin and would give her the sense of something other. "Feeling for liver hardness and checking lymph-nodes" The Good Doctor says.

Dr. Porcer raised the bed and she’s sitting upright against a pillow in a bed with sidebars, picking at the sheets with one hand, watching the silent rain streaking the murky windows like a cornered animal. The other hand holds onto the strings of the green gown covering her breasts. The Doctor relished in the sight of her there. "Don't worry we will make you all better." He spoke softly and breathed in her exquisite scent. It's refreshing compared to the whiff he catches as the fecal odor from a teeming wastebasket assailed his nostrils. And the knowledge that she had a disease, a death-dealing stranger that makes its way among her cells like a scum trailing slug poisoned his peace. "I will fix you."

Nearby, nurses gossip about “the crazy new girl” and in the next bed: her roomate was a "crazy" mother of a seventeen- year-old son who died in a motorcycle accident just two weeks before her scheduled operation. She would have electro shock in a week from now to fix her permanently. ...It was so much more human than a lobotomy, the good doctor told the woman as he stroked her cheek and wiped a tear that came down to the gag in her mouth; it was there to stop her from biting her tongue and choking to death as a form of suicide.

The door opens. Back-lit by the light of the corridor, Dr. Porcer stands and smiles. “Let’s begin the psycho therapy, shall we?" His thin lips curl into a crooked grin. "Tell me who you think you are, that way I can correct you."