#runs through several brick walls leaving man shaped holes in each of them

[musturd-artposts]

to devour

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Greenhouse

Day 2, Story #2 is by @zurisenchantedquill

Title: The Greenhouse

Author/Artist: zurimadison

Pairing: Neville/ Hannah

Prompt: Wedding & Proposal

Rating: Teen

Trigger Warning(s) (if any): n/a

______

The sun was setting in brilliant shades of pink and orange, reflecting off the grey cotton ball clouds that were scattered across the sky. From where she stood in the kitchen, gazing out of the window as she washed up after dinner, Hannah watched the burning sphere sink behind the hills in the distance, leaving in its wake concentrated rays of soft yellow light.

The gentle clinking of ceramic and the movement of water in the sink were the only sounds in the house aside from Hannah’s quiet humming as she finished her task, basking in the view. The cobblestone path leading to the front door was flanked by tall grasses and flowers that grew wild on the country hillside, meeting the edge of a small duck pond beside which the faded white cottage was perched. The trees, green and heavy in the height of summer, swayed in the delicate breeze that also caused the surface of the pond to be perpetually disturbed, the ripples distorting the water’s reflection of the multicolor evening sky.

She left the dishes drying on a terry cloth towel, preparing two mugs of steaming tea that she carried out the back French doors of the cottage. She followed a well-packed dirt path that curved around a large oak tree and traveled parallel to the ruins of an old stone wall, overrun by weeds, until it reached the foot of a modest greenhouse. The structure was the newest addition to the property, it’s base made of solid red bricks and the top still boasting a pristinely painted white frame with polished, intact glass panes. She could just make out the silhouette of a person moving inside, and unconsciously sped her pace. 

The door opened in her presence, closing silently behind her as she sidled through the gap. She placed the mugs of tea on the center table, pulling up a stool as she watched Neville putter around the space. She could hear the muffled music from his headphones, the iPod that her cousin had helped her set up clipped to the waist of his jeans. He was repotting a plant with large, flat leaves, though the patterns of the holes that’d naturally developed across its foliage reminded her strongly of swiss cheese.

He worked diligently, sweat dripping down the side of the temple and hanging on the edge of his jaw. His features were contorted with concentration, but even then, Hannah thought he looked more relaxed when he was in his greenhouse than in most other circumstances. She’d had the idea to get him an iPod after he’d mentioned that he sometimes struggled to relax in the quiet, like he was waiting for something to disturb the silence. 

She loved spending time with Neville in their new greenhouse, though occasionally she could hardly believe the string of events that’d brought them to this point. Despite knowing of each other since their early days at Hogwarts, Hannah never noticed Neville like that until the year of the Carrows. 

She willed herself to breathe deeply, moving her thoughts away from the terrors of that time and focusing instead on what’d attracted her to the man she shared a home with now. He’d been the most noble student at the school that year. He had an unerring moral compass, but was still patient and understanding with people who weren’t ready to be as brave as he. He was kind, he was adorably shy, and (she gulped as she watched another bead of sweat trickle along a vein in his neck and disappear into the V of his shirt) he was good-looking as hell. 

Still, she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve in time to do anything about her schoolgirl crush, and they’d gone their separate ways after the war. She was lucky that fate had other ideas, and within a couple of years she found herself the new proprietor of one of the most visited pubs in wizarding Britain. When he’d first walked through her doors, bringing with him all the old feelings she didn’t know she still had, she couldn’t let him leave without trying. 

She’d blurted it at him loudly when he was halfway out the door.

“Willyougooutwithme?”

The entire pub had gone silent, and she knew her cheeks were flushed pink. She’d waited on bated breath while he’d turned around, staring at her as though amazed. Her stomach fluttered at the memory of the brilliant smile that’d overtaken his face before he’d said the one word that’d forever changed the trajectories of their lives. 

“Yes.”

What followed was three years of dating, of dealing with post war trauma, of learning how to communicate, of reassuring Neville of her feelings, of being very surprised at how much he was willing to take charge when he felt reassured, of deciding to move in together, of choosing to live in simplicity in the country, of learning of Neville’s passions, of knowing when to stay silent to let him speak, of understanding when he needed her to push him, and of the realization of a singular, resolute truth she felt in her bones. 

“Hey, you.” While she’d been lost in thought, Neville had noticed her presence. He pulled his headphones down on his neck and smiled, wiping the soil from his hands with a towel. He crossed the space between them, touching her cheek gently. “What’re you thinking about?” 

She met his eyes, today a warm brown in the center that faded to a grey green on the outside, and she couldn’t stop the words. “Marry me?”

His eyebrows moved towards each other, creasing his forehead as he blinked several times. “What?”

She placed her hand on top of his, still cupping her face, and beamed at him. “Marry me, Neville.” She gestured around the greenhouse. “Let’s you and I make each other happy like this for the rest of our lives.”

His grin rivaled that of the day she’d first asked him out. He bounded across the greenhouse, leaving her alone, confused at the large table as he rifled around in the aprons hanging on the back wall, muttering to himself. 

“There it is,” he exclaimed, running back to her with his fist clenched tight. He sat on the stool in front of her, the look on his face reminding her of a child on Christmas. “Ready?”

He still hadn’t answered her question, but his excitement and her curiosity got the better of her, so she nodded anyway. “Sure.”

He held his hand out, uncurling his fingers so she could see what sat so proudly in his palm. The band of the ring was pale green, shaped like tiny, delicately linked ivy leaves that’d grown in a perfect circle. From the top of the ring a small flower seemed to bloom, yellow and icy, so realistic she could have sworn the petals might fall if she touched them. 

It was her turn to be surprised, and she paused for several moments as she stared at the ring. He waited, watching her with eager eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, and when she met his gaze this time, she felt a lump growing in her throat. “How long have you had it?”

“Since we moved in together,” he admitted, smiling at her bashfully. 

“Why wait so long?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to get married.” He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, though the other hand still held the ring out to her. “We’re so happy, and I don’t want you to feel pressured. I just want to be with you.” He shrugged, picking up the ring and holding it between two fingers. “With or without this. All I want is you.”

“Neville.” A few tears fell down her cheeks as her heart melted, and, unable to say anything else, she pressed her lips against his and pulled him in for a hug, burying her face into his shirt. Her voice was muffled when she finally managed words. “Let’s do it with, then.”

There was a pleasant vibration in his chest as he pulled her to arm’s distance and searched her face. “Yeah?”

She nodded, half laughing, half crying. “Yeah.”

“So we’re getting married?”

She held out her hand and he pushed the ring with slow, deliberate purpose onto her finger. Her heart was hammering, and she admired how it looked against her skin and how small her fingers were in his palm. Everything was perfect. 

She looked up, returning his grin with enthusiasm. “Does this mean you say yes?”

He laughed and swept her off the stool, cradling her close to his body as he murmured against her lips. 

“Yes.”

[heavenseed76]

Contentment

Rating:G

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Summary: Daryl saves Paul from certain death and some truths are revealed

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, canon-typical violence

When mothers lift cars off their children it is not because their love or fear make them super strong. It is because adrenaline will make a person immune to the sensation of pain. Their muscles and tendons are often irreparably damaged. Human beings will tear themselves apart for the people they love. Daryl Dixon was no different.

He couldn’t recall how he was able to get to Michonne’s horse, nor how he hauled the limp form of his friend onto the horse with him. He was vaguely aware that he could hear Dog whimpering somewhere behind him, punctuating the sound of another horse beside him. In his arms, Paul Rovia, wrapped in a saddle blanket, armor long forgotten, slumped forward. Every few minutes Daryl could feel the man tense beneath his arm, locked as if it was welded across Paul’s chest. The man in his arms was in pain, barely breathing, but thankfully alive. Daryl couldn’t think beyond getting Paul back to Hilltop, to Enid, to safety.

Riding in the fog made a trip that would have taken eons stretch even further. There was no sense of distance, nothing to mark the passing of the miles. The trip, longer still holding his friend’s life in his hands, seemed like a dream: the ubiquitous nightmare where you try to reach someone at the end of a long path and the faster you run, the further away they become. With each gallop, Daryl could feel Paul’s life spilling out onto his chest, his arms, soaking the blanket he was wrapped in. He could feel the labored breath, deep pulls of air that went nowhere. At first Paul held on to Daryl’s arm as they rode, though they eventually fell away, too weak to hold on.

Through the fog, Daryl heard Aaron yelling for the sentries to open the gate at Hilltop before Daryl even saw the walls. Aaron kicked his horse into a sprint and easily passed Daryl’s horse. Seeing the end in sight, Daryl pressed his own heels into the flanks of the beast on which he rode and urged the animal to go faster. He followed Aaron straight to the medical trailer, where Enid and Alden were already helping him off his horse.

“No!” Aaron kept the wiggly bundle in his arms from slipping and motioned to Enid and Alden to help Daryl. “Get Jesus!” Without waiting for them to acknowledge him, Aaron rushed into the medical trailer.

Daryl brought his horse up short next to Aarons, and then there were too many hands, too many faces below him, pushing and pulling at Paul. At Enid’s insistence, her eyes full of dread and sympathy, Daryl broke the iron grip he had around Paul and let him slip gently into the waiting arms of Alden and Siddiq, who wasted no time making room for Henry and Kal to help carry his pale body into the trailer. He dismounted Michonne’s horse, letting someone with gentle hands take the reigns from him. He stood staring at the door, behind which two of the people he cared for most in the world could be dying, or worse, turning… Along with his beloved Dog.

He felt familiar hands on his arms, attempting to turn him aware from the trailer, and distantly heard soft words filter through the fog filling his mind, urging him to come away. Hot, angry tears spilled over and silently marked his blood-stained face and suddenly he was unable to catch his breath. He wanted to rush in and pull Paul back into his arms and never let go. If he died… If Paul turned… he needed to be there for that. But Aaron was in there, and he wanted to keep his friend from suffering that end alone.

“Daryl, come get cleaned up.” Carol’s voice was a solid mass he could anchor himself to, as his grief threatened to let him float away like ashes. He started to let her lead him into Barrington House, when Aaron came through the trailer door.

Eyes red, brows pulled in to etch lines of worry into his forehead, Aaron quickly made his way to Daryl.

“Dog’s gonna be OK. Paul…” Aaron’s voice wavered, but he swallowed and carried on. “Paul’s fighting. His lung collapsed and he lost a lot of blood.” Without warning Daryl pulled his friend into his arms, and with a sob he had been holding in the entire journey, Aaron hugged him back, fingers fisting in the worn leather of his vest. Watching them, the lump in Carol’s throat grew, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep her cry from tearing a hole in the comforting bubble the men had made.

***

The sun burned away the fog that had settled over Hilltop, and the morning promised a beautiful day ahead. At a picnic table near the medical trailer, Aaron and Daryl sat vigil, their backs against the edge of the table top. Aaron absently cleaned his prosthetic arm with a rusty can of WD40 and a ragged bandana he kept for the express purpose. Like the Tin Man. Daryl thought. They were both clean, in clothes that didn’t smell like gore. Carol had not been able to coax either man into eating or trying to sleep.

“We’ve wasted so much time.” Aaron sighed and set the rag he’d been using aside. “This is a big damned wake-up call.” He was used to companionable silence with Daryl, used to holding up both ends of a conversation, so when Daryl didn’t respond, he just kept talking. “We’ve been lucky. To make it this long. But this world is still just as dangerous as it ever was. I feel so stupid…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip, listening. He had been there when Aaron dove head first into being a father to Gracie, burying Eric’s death deep beneath the needs of a tiny, new being. It occupied his mind, it gave him an outlet for his affection and focused his energy. It did not, however, fill the gaping love-shaped void left when Eric’s corpse walked off into the woods. It was one of the many ways Daryl felt he had failed everyone in his life; it was one of the many reasons he walked off into the woods That Day, and didn’t look back. The seams holding his family together tore open That Day, and try as he might, he alone didn’t have the strength to stitch it back together. Neither did anyone else, apparently.

“I did it for you, you know.” Daryl said, his voice gravel in his throat.

Aaron turned his expressive blue eyes to Daryl’s, not having expected a two-way conversation. “Did what?”

Daryl looked away, unsure of himself. “Saved him. I know you two… I know he means a lot to you. I saw Dog attack that walker, and heard you yell, and I just, I don’t know man, I just couldn’t let him die…” Meeting Aaron’s eyes he said, “I didn’t want you to hurt no more.”

Something sparked in Aaron’s chest. Affection, love, gratitude… he didn’t know what or how many of those things he was feeling. He stared at Daryl for a long moment. There was only one thing he could think to say. “Thank you.” Aaron pressed infinitesimally closer into Daryl’s warm shoulder with his own.

Daryl nodded, glad he could make his friend smile, even if things didn’t turn out as well as they hoped. It had been hours, and except for Alden leaving to give Enid and Siddiq room to work, and getting Alex to come in to better assist, there had been little news of Paul’s welfare.

“I know you’ve been coming here to see him.” Daryl shifted nervously. “He make you happy?”

A man of few words, Daryl could say so much with so little effort. It took Aaron a moment to understand what Daryl was asking, and when the implication of the question hit him, he felt like he had been slapped. He scooted away from Daryl on the bench of the picnic table, so he could fully turn to face Daryl.

“You do know we’re just friends, right?” Aaron’s frown returned, and Daryl didn’t know how to respond. “We’re not… we’ve never… Jesus and I are good friends, that’s all.” Aaron watched confusion slide over the hunter’s face. If Paul weren’t dying behind the door of the medical trailer, Aaron may have laughed. “You know Jesus is… he’s in love with you!”

“No.” Daryl sat up taller, and Aaron could nearly see the walls being built around the other man.

“Yeah. He’s been in love with you since he brought you home from the Sanctuary! Daryl, how could you not know?”

The hunter stood, defiantly staring his friend down. “He don’t.” He tried to turn away, but Aaron was right there.

“He does. That’s what I meant! We all have to stop wasting time we might not have, Daryl!” Aaron grabbed Daryl’s bicep and swung around to face the stoic man. “I know you. I know you both. And if there’s anything I’m sure of, its that you two belong together. Even if I was interested, that man’s heart belongs to you!”

It was if the last brick fit into place in the fortress of Daryl’s heart. The realization that not only did Aaron see how he felt for Paul, but that Paul felt the same for him, and had made it a known fact. Overwhelmed with the severity of this revelation, Daryl’s dread swelled, and he felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the world. The truth Aaron spoke filled his eyes with hot tears, of shame and joy and sickening worry. Seeing all this take shape in his friend, Aaron pulled him in for an awkward hug.

The harsh slap of the trailer door snapping closed brought the men up for air. Standing on the steps to the trailer was an exhausted Enid, covered in blood. Neither could move, holding their breath.

A smile bloomed on the woman’s face as she said simply, “He’ll be OK.”

***

In his own bed inside Barrington House, Paul Rovia looked smaller than Tara had ever seen him. The trip up the stairs and into the bed had worn him out, and he fell asleep almost immediately. He didn’t even flinch as she started a new IV in his hand. She watched him, his breath shallow and lips twisted in a pained expression. He was pale, his eyes sunken. Laying in his bed with only a bandage across his chest, his strong body laid bare and vulnerable, Tara took stock of all the things they would have lost if the man in front of her hadn’t made it home. Despite his reluctance, Paul was a good leader, and she tried every day to convince him of it. People loved and respected him because he was willing to go outside the walls and risk it all to strengthen them.

“How is he?” Daryl’s low rasp shook Tara from her reverie.

“Exhausted. He’s got some pain killers, so he’s comfortable enough to sleep.” Tara covered Paul in a thin blanket. “Come in. Sit. I’ll be back in a bit to check on him.” Sheepishly, Daryl entered the room, letting Tara give his arm and affectionate squeeze as she went past.

It had been several days since the cemetery, and Daryl had barely slept. Seeing Paul gravely injured had shifted something inside him, something Aaron had nudged to hang just the right way.

“Gonna keep watch on me?” Paul’s voice was just a whisper on his lips. He turned his palm up on the bed, an invitation.

Daryl sat on the edge of the bed, slipping his big hand into Paul’s smaller one. “Feelin OK?” He let his thumb caress the top of Paul’s hand.

Paul nodded, then winced, which Daryl caught even though he tried to hide it. “As long as I don’t move. Or breathe.” He gave a Daryl a thin smile. “You’re too far away.”

Daryl slipped off his boots and lay down beside Paul, mindful of the bandage across his chest. “This OK?”

Paul hummed affirmatively. His limbs were heavy, though he positioned himself close enough to lay he head on Daryl’s shoulder. He laced his fingers together with Daryl’s between their bodies. He could feel the other man relax against him, and if he hadn’t been so exhausted, Paul may have quipped at Daryl to make him blush.

“I’m sorry.” Daryl placed a firm, confident kiss on Paul’s forehead. “Wasted too many years. We have a chance now and I ain’t gonna fuck it up.” He reached over and felt the smooth skin of Paul’s temple with the back of his hand, reveling in the new-found ability to show his affection.

Paul took his hand, kissing the palm and then holding it to his chest, just above his bandage. “You better not. I love you, Daryl Dixon, but you know I will kick your ass.” Paul’s lips quirked up on one side and he peered at Daryl through heavy eyelids.

Daryl huffed a laugh and kissed Paul’s head again, snuggling into the warmth of the other man’s presence. They fell asleep, Paul holding Daryl’s hand to himself, so the hunter could feel every beat of his heart. That is where Dog found them, limping on a bandaged leg, letting Aaron help him into the bed to curl up at their feet, content.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“illusion”

Chapter 14

aaaaaa what?! ANOTHER Illusion chapter within 3 months? It's more likely than you think! WARNING: violence!!! MC gets the shit beat out of her!!! Haha! Trauma!

AO3 link 

WARNING: While this chapter is not spicy, this IS a work with spicy scenes. An sfw version has been in the works and will be posted soon.

This can't be real... it can't be...

My heart runs circles around my chest, violently beating as if it's trying to escape. And I don't blame it; Wren, Giles, and I are suddenly face to face with one of the notorious Shining Generals of the Diamond Kingdom. His unexpected presence throws a wrench into our plan, and now I'm not sure that we'll be able to escape this place with the civilians- at least not alive. Already, Giles is on his knees, struggling to stay conscious in the aftermath of the "Slime mold" attack. And now, we're next.

"This is your last warning-" A gross, green material starts to emanate from the general's grimoire. "Leave now, and I won't follow."

I exchange one last frightened glance with Wren. His confidence is completely gone, but the spark in his eye tells me that he isn't done yet. 

We can't win... can we?

Wren's eyes narrow.

Am I going to give up? Just like that?

No...

Slowly, I give him a nod before looking back at the general.

He hasn't seen my magic yet. I can still surprise him. 

"...we'll fight. Like magic knights are meant to!"

With that yell, Wren suddenly jumps ahead of me towards the attacker. "Feather Magic: Starling Swarm!" A huge flock of inky black feathers come out of nowhere, swirling around in the air around Wren before coursing towards his enemy like a vicious river. 

"Fools... Slime Magic: Amebic Plague." The mold queuing up in his hands bursts forth in three long tentacles, striking the swarm of feathers. Violent fluttering and squelching fills the air as the two magics struggle for dominance, until the mold overcomes and dissolves away Wren's entire fleet. "See, this is useless!" the man cackles softly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Now... you're next!"

The mold changes directions, this time streaming towards Wren.

However, it's too late.

In the moments that Wren was distracting him, I looked at the general's face. At his body. At his eyes.

His hands... they're soft. He hasn't done much physical training for this position; he doesn't need to. But even outside of work, he hasn't done much that was taxing. He doesn't play... not outside, at least.

His body... he's heavy. But it's not new weight. He carries it well, but his face is thin. He wasn't always this weight, but he's comfortable in it now. He gained it years ago- maybe 3 or 4 years ago. Why?

His eyes...

The flash I once thought was cruel is now something else... it's playful. And for a brief moment, when his gaze met mine, I saw something I didn't expect.

Sadness. Regret.

Please forgive me. You look like her.

Before the mold can reach Wren, I raise my grimoire, a spell forming in the palm of my hand.

You have a daughter... 3 or 4 years old. She prefers to play inside. She's sheltered. You gained weight when your wife did. Empathy weight, I think it's called...

And she looks a little like me. You love her more than anything in this world.

Illusion Magic: Memory Mirage.

Wren grits his teeth and braces for impact. I fire off my spell, a single word beaming itself right into the General's mind.

"DADDY!"

A girl's voice, high pitched and scared, screams through his mind. In that instant, I see all color drain from his face, turning him into a statue for just a couple crucial moments.

Bingo.

"FEATHER MAGIC: HARPY'S FURY!"

The general snaps out of it, but a moment too late. He and his men are bombarded with a thousand knife-sharp feathers, slicing through their flesh and clothes. With a scream, he stumbles and falls backwards. Taking a deep breath, I whirl around to see Giles already on his feet, sprinting towards the back wall.

"Horn Magic: Ibex Impact."

Two spiraling horns burst out of his head and drill right through the wall. The bricks crumble, letting sunlight stream in, and a large enough hole for people to run through is created. "Go! Everyone, run towards the outer wall!" I yell, grabbing Wren's hand to help him run as well. With a blur of movement, the civilians jump to their feet, desperate to escape, and thunder off in a big crowd. Wren sends back a few more feathers to keep the fallen enemies down just a little longer, before turning and following me out.

Giles stays at the front of the group to lead them while Wren and I bring up the rear. My heart is still pounding from that encounter, but I'm starting to relax. "That was close... we have to get out of here, then go tell the others that there's another General here!"

"Agreed!" Wren is already out of breath. "I can't believed Julius missed this guy..."

I nod, my mind suddenly filling with thoughts of Julius. Were he and the captain alright? Did they win their fight? I can still hear noises around the city, but I don't know where the sources are. I gulp nervously, parting my lips to keep breathing as I run. It doesn't matter... I'll see him again soon. For now, we have to get out of here, then I can brag to Julius about also beating a general-

"AHHH!" 

Wren suddenly stumbles forward before falling flat on his face. I freeze in place as I spot the same growing spot of green mold that Giles had earlier. "Wren!" I quickly kneel down and start helping him to his feet. "You're hurt... keep going-"

"Eh- no!" Wren grits his teeth through the pain, looking behind us as the rest of the crowd continues to run away. Sure enough, none other than the bloodied, battered General is behind us, staggering forward with pure anger in his eyes. My stomach turns, and all at once I realize just how much danger we're in. "I'll stay... I'll fight him-"

"Wren, you're in no state to fight!" I tell him frantically. We're running out of time, and fast, with each step the general takes towards us. "Go, help the others escape, I can hold him off."

"NO..." Wren shakes his head again, one hand coming up to grab my wrist, trying to pry my hands off him. "I- I need to..." His gaze raises to mine, strained with agony yet so... at peace.

"I need... to pay for my sin."

For a brief moment, the street disappears. The crowd disappears. The general disappears. We're alone, just Wren and I, as I stare into his eyes, confused and scared.

... sins?

Wren... what sins have you committed?

I wrench my hand from his fingers.

Whatever they are... they aren't enough to condemn you.

"I don't care what sins you've committed; I'm your comrade, I'm not letting you die!"

I raise my voice, and Wren's eyes widen. I flash him a grin, a confident look that he hasn't seen on my face in months.

"Go... I'll fight this guy, and win, I promise!"

Finally, Wren nods. With difficulty, he steps away, his eyes remaining on mine until he has to turn and limp (very quickly) off down the street. With a sigh, I look back at my enemy. 

I... I can't win.

I clench my fists, ice in my veins.

This fight could be my last... all I can do is stay alive until help arrives.

The general is alone, but badly injured from Wren's attack. However, I can see patches of his mold covering various spots on his body, undoubtedly stopping the bleeding from getting too bad. That's why he's alone... he's the only one in enough shape to walk out here. I grit my teeth, pulling out my grimoire once again. In that case, maybe beating him won't be so hard.

I see his mold tentacles rise up above him once again, and my time comes. I flip my hand, the spell in my book starting to glow.

Illusion Magic: Kaleidoscope.

The only thing I can make several illusions of at a time is myself, because my body is the one thing I know better than anything. The general stops in his tracks as his eyesight blurs, and once it clears, there are ten copies of myself standing ahead of him, all identical in every way. "I see..." he breathes, his mouth twitching into a grin despite the rage still burning in his gaze. "You make illusions, don't you? But..." His eyes narrow, and his grin disappears. "How... how did you know about her?"

I gulp, taking a step back. My eyes flicker up to the tentacles above him before going back to his face. "L-Lucky guess?"

He doesn't speak again, just raises his hand to point at my copies. The tentacles strike, like three perfectly coordinated snakes, and immediately rip through three of my copies, one of which is right next to my real body. Shit! My eyes widen. I almost flinch without thinking, but an unconscious impulse keeps me from doing it for just a moment. If I just flinch instinctively, the other copies will do the same, and he'll be able to see which one is me from the direction- So- Randomly-

The seven remaining copies, including myself, flinch in random directions, one right, two left, then another two right, and then two left. Without another moment to spare, I take off running, zig zagging down a side street, being careful not to accidentally clip into one of my illusions. It's a difficult task, since I can't actually see any of them, but I know where they are. With a grunt, we turn around to face our pursuer, and I raise my hands again. Seven voices ring out at once, all casting the same spell.

"Illusion Magic: Sudden Death!"

Seven balls of energy jump from our hands, converging in the middle before shooting into the general's chest. His mouth opens in surprise, his mind forcing himself to perceive the impact. That's it! I think as he stumbles back, his eyes widening. Now... look down... look down...

His gaze drifts down, to the ground, then up his legs, and then, to the gaping wound in his stomach. It's a standard one, a slice that leaves your entrails exposed, burnt to a crisp, but still oozing blood and juice. I watch as the blood drains from his face, his chest heaving as he draws in breath after ragged breath. His hand clutches at the imaginary mound, clutching at nothing, but I know that he's watching his life wane away. Finally, he looks back at where I stand, now just a single person. Any pity or sadness that he once looked at me with is gone. All there is is anger.

"Y-You..."

Finally, his knees give out from the shock, and he crumbles into a heap on the ground.

I exhale at last, my heart still pounding. I stand there for a whole minute, watching him twitch pathetically where he collapsed. That's it... I did it. Of course, I know I would be dead meat if Wren didn't weaken him first, but what's done is done. Wren... Giles... I wonder if they got out alright. Remembering the mission, I finally move, walking towards the still man who is now the least of my worries. I'm sure they made it... and then the captain, Alice, Cecelia... and Julius-

My mind is far away as I walk past the body. I don't notice the stray strand of mold until it wraps itself around my ankle, as tight and severe as fishing line.

SHIT-

I'm flung into the air, mold immediately shooting over my skin and up my body. I don't even have time to scream; the world revolves around me, upside down, and then I hit the brick wall as hard as humanly possible. With a spluttering gasp, gravity takes hold again and I thud to the ground. My entire body is being stabbed and eaten away by mold, tingling and stinging like a thousand jellyfish. Something lands on my shoulder and kicks me onto my back, and I finally open my eyes to see the shining general smirking down at me. "H-H-"

"How?" He lets out a snort. "Please... once I know the trick, none of your magic works on me. A lesser man would have fallen for it, but not me..." He laughs again, mirthlessly, and presses his foot down harder. More mold appears under his shoe, and I can't even scream.

AH.... AHHH... Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and my vision goes white. Stop it... please... someone...

"Your magic relies on dirty lies... you look at people and use the things they love and the things they fear against them."

His foot keeps pressing down, crushing me like a bug.

"You... you didn't wound my body. But my pride has been irreparably damaged." His eyes darken. "You will pay dearly."

Everything blurs for a moment, and hands grab me. No, not hands- the mold tentacles, burning into my skin, grab me and slam me against the wall again. I hear other voices, angry voices. Angry eyes stare up at me, the same rage burning within them as the general's.

"Is this the one who took you down?"

"She did not take me down... but she hurt my pride." 

I crack open an eye to see that the general is no longer alone- his five men are here now, too, varying degrees of annoyance and anger on their faces. But the general is finally smiling again, that playful, dangerous smile that I saw before.

My hands shake. My fingers uselessly pry at the mold around my neck. I can't breathe.

"Go ahead... make her life a living hell."

There are grins on all their faces again.

I- I can't move-

Hands reach towards me.

M-Move... please...

I open my mouth to scream, but choke on my own blood.

Someone grabs my neck. They hit me over and over again.

Stop... stop...

Julius reaches towards my neck with his healing hands. 

Stop... Get...

My grimoire begins to glow where it fell to the ground.

Get away-

I cough once, and something warm dribbles down my chin. I can breathe- I can breathe-

I open my eyes again. All of the men have the same face.

Lawrence.

DON'T TOUCH ME

...

...

...

Illusion Magic: Fear Landscape.

The mold retracts, and I slide to the ground and immediately slump over forwards. My body is broken, and there's blood all over me. The mold ate away at everything it could, and even now it lingers inside me. I take a few shallow breaths. My ears are ringing, both with the impact of the blows and... screaming? yes... someone's screaming and crying- no- multiple people are. I blink a few times, vaguely aware of bodies writhing around in the street. But I don't feel scared... no.

Everything is so warm. The pain slowly fades into a memory. 

A hand strokes over my hair tenderly.

"It'll be okay... I'll protect you. I promise."

Promise?

 ...

...

...

 Slowly, the pain comes back, dull and intense. I grunt as I slowly lift my head, finally sitting up all the way. One of my arms is wrapped around my middle to stop the bleeding there. "Ugh... what happened?" Was I saved? Did I cast a spell? Or did they just leave me here-

I open my eyes and finally see the scene ahead of me.

The men are still there. But they've all fallen, their bodies contorted and twisted. My breath hitches in my throat as I see their expressions.

Each one of them is filled with fear. Not any particular kind of fear- just fear, in it's purest form.

W-What... what did I do?

My hands shake as I crawl forward, one of my legs dragging behind me. One of the bodies is face up, and I recognize him as the General.

They... they're just passed out. I just shocked them into collapsing, right?

I reach out. The city is so quiet.

Please... don't...

My hand slides under his jaw, pressing down for a moment. Then another. Then another.

The city is silent.

I slowly retract my hand, to rest on his chest. No pulse of life can be found.

No... no...

My hand forms a fist, balling up his shirt.

No... I... I didn't... I couldn't...

I've seen death. I've seen blood. I've seen war. But... never at my own hand.

Something within me snaps, and I fall forward into his chest. I let go of my wound and grab his arm, as a sob racks my entire body.

"No... no... I..."

Tears stain his shirt. 

"I'm sorry.... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

There are footsteps. Voices.

Sorry... sorry... sorry...

"I-I didn't mean to... I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

My voice raises in volume as the footsteps come closer. I don't hear them, just the sound of my voice and the silence of the heartbeat.

"Please... forgive me... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to! I- I-"

It wasn't your fault.

There's a heartbeat now. I'm numb, but warmth surrounds me. 

"I-I'm sorry..."

I know, I know.

That warm hand is on my head again, stroking my hair and coaxing me into a deep sleep.

Rest... you were so brave.

"...thank you. I'm...

I'm sorry..."

ooooh ouch! Well, next time, we'll see MC "recover" from her fight, but we find out that life is just as cruel to other people as well.

[littlepryingpandorica]

Project Rebuild Chapter 2

A.k.a. “Everything you need to know about the ninja without a single line of dialogue in 3 and ½ minutes.” References included. 

EXT. NINJAGO HIGH SCHOOL – DAY

We fade in to see a shot of Master Wu from the back as he looks on to see a school campus. The song "Believer" by Imagine Dragons begins playing as an entirely wordless montage sequence of Master Wu recruiting the ninja occurs.

We see a close up of Master Wu in deep thought. We then go into his POV (point of view) shot as he looks at a sign on the right side that reads “NINJAGO HIGH SCHOOL.” The national emblem of Ninjago can also be seen. It is a rectangle with six dots inside, resembling a 3x2 Lego brick standing upright.  

INT. SCHOOL GYM – DAY

Several teenage boys are playing a game of dodgeball. We see a close up of one of the boys with a confident look on his face. This is COLE, a young man with black tousled hair and long bangs. He has thick, black, bushy eyebrows that accentuate his expressions.    

[Song: Believer by Imagine Dragons - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=is0qM0aAJqg ]

[First things first, I’ma say all the words inside my head]  Cole throws a dodgeball at his fellow classmate so hard that the other student smashes through the wall of the gym, leaving behind a minifig-shaped hole. Cole sheepishly raises his hands as though to say “whoops”. 

[I’m fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh The way that things have been, oh-ooh] Everyone else is freaked out by Cole’s super strength and runs away from Cole. Saddened, Cole hangs his head down when he is left alone in the gym. Alone except for one person. Master Wu puts his hand on Cole’s shoulder and recruits Cole for his Secret Ninja Force. Cole looks up and smiles.  

INT. SCHOOL SWIMMING POOL - DAY

Several students are swimming laps around the pool filled with actual non-Lego water. But one lone student can be seen meditating at the bottom of the pool. Close up on this boy. He is ZANE, an unusual young boy with a white crew cut. 

[Second things second, don’t you tell me what you think that I could be] Suddenly, large spikes of non-Lego ice emanate from where Zane is sitting at the bottom of the pool. The ice spreads until it freezes the entire swimming pool with everyone in it. Zane opens his bright blue eyes and is shocked by what he has done. 

[I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea, oh-ooh The master of my sea, oh-ooh] Cut to Zane out of the pool while school staff are trying to break the other swimmers out of the ice. Zane is frightened by the angry glares all the swimmers are giving him. Master Wu approaches Zane and puts his hand on Zane’s shoulder. Zane turns to Master Wu and sees Cole in the background nervously waving hi. Zane nods and Master Wu recruits Zane. Zane hugs Cole and Cole smiles gleefully.

INT. SCHOOL SCIENCE LAB. - DAY

At a science class, the students are busy working on their experiments. We focus on a freckled boy with messy, dark brown hair. This is JAY, a cautious but inventive individual.

[I was broken from a young age, taking my sulking to the masses]  Jay works furiously on building a potato clock. Several quick shots of Jay taking various items including a non-Lego marble potato, non-Lego galvanized nails and some copper wire. As he takes each of these items, tiny sparks of electricity flow from his hands into the objects. 

[Writing my poems for the few, that look to me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me] Beside Jay is the Lego clock he built. It is connected to the copper wire, connected to the potato. Jay inserts the galvanized nail into the potato and the Lego clock ends up shooting lightning everywhere. The bursts of lightning are synchronized with the beat of the lyrics.   

[Singing from heartache from the pain, taking my message from the veins] Everyone in the science lab runs out. Master Wu looks under one of the tables and sees Jay, huddled by himself and scared. 

[Speaking my lesson to the brain] Master Wu recruits Jay. Cole welcomes Jay to the team, patting him on the back. 

HARD CUT TO EXT. SCHOOL SOCCER FIELD – NIGHT

Bright spotlights illuminate the soccer field as the students are playing a nighttime soccer match. We track an enthusiastic teenager as he rushes to kick the soccer ball into the goal. This is KAI, an impulsive young man with a scar running through his right eye. He has incredibly spiky, dark brown hair.

[Seeing the beauty through the...] As Kai runs, flames sprout from his back, resembling wings. 

[Pain!] At "Pain!", we see a slow motion shot of Kai kicking the soccer ball, his fire wings fully extended. Flames emanate from his feet, setting the ball on fire.

[You made me a] Now set aflame, the ball hurtles into the goal, setting the goal on fire. 

[You made me a believer]    Kai stands triumphantly for a few moments while the crowd gasps. He doesn't realize he has accidentally set his clothes on fire, leaving him almost entirely naked.  

[Believer!] We see from behind Kai, a visible shot of Kai’s Lego butt, which is basically just a regular set of Lego legs but entirely yellow.  In the background, the crowd cringes and looks away.  

[Pain!] Kai notices his lack of clothing just as the fire spreads to his underwear on his front. His fire wings dissolve into nothing. 

[You break me down]  Ashamed, Kai covers his nether regions and runs to the locker room, crying.

INT. SCHOOL LOCKER ROOM – NIGHT

[And build me up, believer] Kai is crying in the locker room. He looks up and sees Cole, who averts his eyes.

[Believer!] Without looking at Kai, Cole hands out spare clothes to Kai.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY – NIGHT

[Pain!] Kai comes out of the locker room wearing the new clothes. 

[Oh let the bullets fly] Master Wu recruits Kai.  

[Oh let them rain]   A person walks by, obstructing our view. As the person leaves, the scene transitions to the same location during daytime.

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY – DAY 

Many students are walking around the hallway. Some are crowded around a bulletin board. On the board is a poster that says “Art Competition Finals”.

[My love, my life, my drive, it came from... Pain!] A teenage girl runs toward the bulletin board. She is NYA, the younger sister of Kai. She sports black wavy hair in a ponytail with long bands and has a small beauty mark on her face. As she runs, Nya tracks water with every step she takes. At “Pain!”, a student slips and falls on a puddle of water Nya left behind.

[You made me a, you made me a believer, believer] Unaware of the trail of water she leaves behind her, Nya is ecstatic at seeing the art competition poster, so much that globs of water manifest from her hands and the rest of her body. Other students begin to notice. Her power leaves her wet causing others to think she wet herself.  

[Third things third, send a prayer to the ones up above] The students all laugh at Nya. Ashamed, she runs to the corner dead end of the hallway where no one can see her. She crouches down and starts crying. 

[All the hate that you’ve heard has turned your spirit to a dove, oh-ooh] Nya looks up and sees Kai. Kai sits beside his sister and gives her an extra set of clothes. 

[Your spirit up above, oh-ooh] Nya comes out of the girl’s bathroom wearing the new clothes and sees Master Wu and the other ninja. Master Wu recruits Nya.  

EXT. FIELD – DAY

[I was choking in the crowd] We see the ninja training with Master Wu. They are all wearing black gi uniforms. Master Wu makes a striking motion.

[Building my rain up in the cloud] Cole strikes a regular non-Lego brick and breaks it in half.  

EXT. SNOWY MOUNTAIN - DAY

[Falling like ashes to the ground] Zane leads the others through snow-covered terrain. The others fall down in time with the lyrics. Emphasis on Kai.

[Hoping my feelings, they would drown]  Cole tries to pick up his teammates but he sinks into the snow himself. Zane goes back and helps everyone out. 

EXT. MASTER WU’S OBSTACLE COURSE – DAY

We see the ninja before a complicated obstacle course consisting of several rotating contraptions and wooden dummies.  

[But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing, Inhibited, limited, till they broke open] Jay goes through the obstacle course and dodges every blow from the spinning contraptions and the wooden dummies. His movements are synchronized with the beat of the lyrics. 

[And rained down] Cole cheers.

[And rained down, like] Kai enters the obstacle course. We sees Kai’s surprised face as the arm of a wooden dummy comes down on him.

[Pain!]   We see from behind the wooden dummy as Kai smashes through its arm with a powerful fire kick.

[You made me a, you made me a believer] Kai goes literally right through the obstacle course and destroys every obstacle and dummy in the way. His movements are also synchronized with the beat of the lyrics. 

[Believer!] All the ninja cheer.

[Pain!] Reaction shot of Master Wu as he is shocked that Kai demolished his expensive equipment. 

INT. MASTER WU’S DOJO WAREHOUSE – DAY

[You break me down and build me up] We see a shot of Nya looking at various flat Lego tiles containing blueprints.

[Believer, believer!] Everyone cheers as Nya builds the SAMURAI X MECH.

[Pain!] Cole and Nya do a fist bump in the foreground. The shot is framed such that Jay is in the background in between Cole and Nya. Jay has a shocked face and he covers his mouth as they fist bump.

[Oh let the bullets fly]  Cole notices Jay has a crush on Nya. 

[Oh let them rain] Cole calls Jay over. 

[My love, my life] Jay and Nya do a fist bump.  

[My drive] Jay blushes.

[It came from… Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer!] We see a panning shot of all the ninja lined up as they punch out their element one at a time. Cole leads and the others follow. Earth, Ice, Lightning, Fire, and Water. Master Wu looks on proudly in the corner.   

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY LOCKERS – DAY

We see a young boy with green eyes and blond hair. This is LLOYD GARMADON, the son of Lord Garmadon.  

[Last things last, by the grace of the fire and the flame] Lloyd walks towards his locker and sees the word “Garma-dork” spray painted on it in black paint. He is bullied for being Garmadon's son. Lloyd’s green eyes turn red in anger and he pulls up his black hoodie to cover his face.  

EXT. NINJAGO CITY STREETS – DAY

[You’re the face of the future, the blood in my veins. oh-ooh] Lloyd steals and vandalizes property. He runs out of a candy store with a wheelbarrow carrying a single  piece of non-Lego candy.  

[The blood in my veins, oh-ooh] Master Wu and the ninja confront Lloyd. All the ninja are scared of Lloyd except Cole. Master Wu places his hand on Lloyd’s shoulder and recruits him. Lloyd’s red eyes turn green and full of hope. 

EXT. FIELD – DAY

Again, we see the ninja training with Master Wu, wearing their black gi uniforms.

[But they never did, ever lived] Master Wu repeats the same striking motion.

[Ebbing and flowing] Lloyd strikes a non-Lego cement hollow brick and breaks it in half. Surprised reaction shot of Cole who cannot believe his eyes.

EXT. SNOWY MOUNTAIN - DAY

[Inhibited, limited, till it broke open] Lloyd leads the others through snow-covered terrain but instead of everyone walking, all the other ninja are on snowboards attached to a thread rope. The rope is tied to Lloyd who runs at full speed like a sled dog, pulling all the other ninja along. Kai is having the most fun but the other ninja are just trying to hang on.

EXT. MASTER WU’S OBSTACLE COURSE – DAY

[And rained down, and rained down, like] Lloyd goes through obstacle course, dodges every blow and still destroys every obstacle after he has dodged it. All the ninja are amazed. Cole’s eyes are full of awe but also slight apprehension from being progressively outclassed by Lloyd with seemingly little effort.

[Pain!] Reaction shot of Master Wu with an “I just fixed that!” look on his face. 

INT. MASTER WU’S DOJO WAREHOUSE – DAY

[You made me a, you made me a…] We see a shot of Lloyd looking at various flat Lego tiles containing blueprints.

[Believer, believer!] Everyone except Cole cheers as Lloyd builds all the mechs of the other ninja, the WATER STRIDER, the FIRE MECH, the LIGHTNING JET, the ICE TANK, and the QUAKE MECH. Cole is now more visibly bitter and cynical. His hair is now tied up in a man bun.

[Pain!] Cole quietly leaves the dojo as the others cheer Lloyd on.

[Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain] Cole runs back into the dojo, frightened. He points outside and gets the others’ attention. They all run outside.

EXT. OUTSIDE MASTER WU’S DOJO WAREHOUSE – DAY

[My love, my life, my drive] We see the GREEN DRAGON MECH that Lloyd built. Cole is frightened by it and cowers behind Zane.

[It came from… Pain!]   Zane turns to Cole and makes robotic movements indicating that it is a robot, not a real dragon. Cole laughs sheepishly.

[You made me a, you made me a...]   All the ninja put on their ninja hoods but now, instead of black, they are wearing different colors to match their elemental powers. Lloyd wears green to match his eyes. Cole is the only one who continues to wear black.

[Believer] Wide shot of all the ninja jumping in attack formation toward Garmadon and his forces. Secret Ninja Force on the left and Garmadon and his army on the right. The ninja all have their weapons drawn. Jay has a pair of nunchucks. Nya has a spear. Kai has a pair of twin katanas. Lloyd has a broadsword. Cole has a scythe. Zane has a pair of shuriken. 

[Believer!] Epic slow motion shot of the Secret Ninja Force and Garmadon about to fight each other.

Fade out to black just before they make contact. 

CHAPTER INDEX

[sp00kworm]

Immortals (Part 1 - Reaper76)

Part 2 (avaliable soon)

Description: A brave yet foolish hunter falls into the hands of an ancient vampire despite the warnings the blood moon heeded. Jack pays for his folly with his life, and awakens a vampire. (Vampire!AU, Reaper76, Halloween story)

Rating: M (some gore and distressing scenes, and sexual content)

The blood moon signified many things for the supernatural. Werewolves took the blood moon as the sign for the annual hunt to begin, where humans were turned, and beasts of the forests taken from their thrones. The witch performed many dark rituals, the magic surrounding them like a shroud was enhanced when bathed in the glow of the velvet red moonlight. For vampires, the rays of the moon sent them into a frenzy. An insatiable lust for blood and a thrill for hunting their prey before the brutal kill. Many covens ventured into the society to partake in the blood of humans, even the most reclusive of vampires tasted blood on the night of the blood moon. Somehow, on the night of the red coloured moon, the blood of humans tasted sweeter, their life force pulsing with untapped potential, intoxicating as it renewed the primal bloodlust of the ancient creatures. For Jack Morrison the blood moon marked the day his life was changed forever.

The night of the blood moon was the one day of the calendar that no one in the village was permitted to go outside their homes. For the entire day and night, the peasants quivered inside their homes, salt circles and paths drawn across the entrances. Windows the blocked, chimneys and doors were barricaded, and the men clutched their weapons close as families sat in uneasy quiet, shivering in the cold as starting a fire would be a signal to all the lurking creatures that there were humans within that residence. The villagers huddled closer within their homes whenever the screams of their neighbours echoed off the stone walls of their homes. Jack had not headed the warnings of the elders. Brash and bull-headed, he had snorted in the faces of the elders, and took his hunting rifle, heading out into the forest that morning, as he always did, to hunt for his meal.

Hours later he had skinned the young, naïve buck that had dared to snuffled around the bushes, its back turned to the treeline. Jack had left the guts and organs but bound the skin up and slung the deer over his shoulder before heading back to the village. He did not expect werewolves to be tailing him as he plodded back towards the village, his kill dripping an easily noticeable trail of blood behind him. The wolves snarled, nipping at each other to lead the pack, the alpha, a black wolf padded through them silently, before disappearing into the trees, following the scent of the human.

The werewolves assaulted his home as the sun set below the horizon, howling their defiance to the moon. Jack pushed his back against his door, his rifle in his hand, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tried to load his gun, the werewolves, twice the size of normal wolves, launching themselves at the heavy wooden door, whining as they bounced away from the wood their claws scrabbling at the knots. Jack’s fingers slipped, his palms sweating, and the bullets he had dropped to the floor with a clatter. The wolves howled outside his door with the noise and renewed their efforts to smash through the door. Wolf paws shattered the windows and snouts with gnashing teeth erupted through the holes, growling, saliva dripping from their maws. Terror overtook Jack, and his whole body shook with tremors as he failed to load his rifle for the third time. The screaming of the pack grew louder, and Jack backed himself up against the wall of his home, clutching his head in his hands, eyes wide with fright. Swallowed in his horror, he didn’t hear the wolves begin to scream in terror. The hounds were torn apart by a creature flickering between them, limbs flying into the air as the monster tore its way through the pack.

Blood dripped onto the floor where he was starring, tears rolling down his hands as the terror destroyed his flight or fight response. Slowly, Jack’s blue eyes looked upwards, and he made eye contact with the creature in front of him. Red eyes peered back at him, hot, sour breath rolling over his face. The maws of the black coloured wolf were coated in blood, the fur of its neck matted with it. The gentle ‘splosh’ of drops against the floor centred Jack, and he managed to gasp enough air to pull himself together and send a punch flying towards the monstrous wolf’s muzzle. His fist passed through air and sent him flying off balance to the left, and suddenly, something sunk its teeth into his arm. Jack howled in pain as the wolf gave his arm a shake, its teeth tearing deep into his muscle, crashing against his bones. The adrenaline kicked in and Jack launched his hand at the wolf’s eyes, successfully sending his fingers into one of them in his desperation.

The wolf merely released his arm and jumped away, wiping at its bloodied eye with a growl, before turning its head to watch Jack through the other. Its eyes glowed with some ungodly power, and Jack gritted his teeth, pushing his way across the room on his knees, reaching for his rifle. The wolf growled and quickly closed the distance, relying on its one eye to guide it forwards. Jack’s fingers snatched the rifle from the ground and he pushed the bolt forwards just in time for the creature to wedge the barrel in its jaws, its claws scrabbling for purchase against Jack’s body. Jack’s skin sliced beneath the wolf’s claws, deep gashes which severed the arteries in his legs. The hunter growled, turning the barrel in the creature’s mouth, hissing in pain before pulling the trigger.

Jack’s ears rang with the noise, and he blinked, dazed from the crack of the gunpowder so close to him. The wolf keeled forward’s, its eyes dimming as blood poured out the back of it’s head. Jack’s arm throbbed in agony beneath the weight of the monster, and he pushed at the corpse until he could wiggle his way out from beneath it. Clutching his arm, Jack dragged himself backwards until his spine pressed into the rough brick of his cottage wall. Jack watched the creature for a moment in disbelief, panting hard, blood pouring from the wounds littering his body. His arm and thigh were bleeding uncontrollably, and he weakly pressed a hand to his thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood from the sliced artery. It wasn’t going to work, he’d seen wounds like this before, knives and animals alike had torn other hunters like this, they never made it back to the village. Pressing his head against the wall, Jack clenched his teeth at the blinding pain, and accepted that his last moments would be next to the carcass of a monster.

At first, he thought he was seeing things, but sure enough, the blood pouring out of the back of the wolf’s head began to recede. The matted blood in the wolfs jet black fur became viscous once more, peeling itself away from the hair and travelling, reversely, back into the wolf in small streams. The sickly noise of the gushing blood and the cracking of the cranium of the wolf repairing itself made Jack heave in his place next to the wall. Pieces of bone and brain grew back, and the wolf began to twitch against the floor. Its eyes widened, the red of its irises glowing with the humming arcane in the air. The fur of the creature evaporated into smoke which curled around the wolf’s form. Enveloping the monster, it began to grow and twist into a new shape. Jack watched in amazement as the body of the wolf shifted into that of man who stepped out of the mist, rolling his shoulders as the back of his head sewed itself shut, the tissue closing around the spine, the shrapnel pieces of the bullet Jack had shot dropping onto the floor in a pile.

The man was tall, his hair dropping down his back in a wave of dark brown, the ends almost floating like the smoke he had stepped out of. Thick muscled legs were covered by tight dress trousers and hard leather boots, metal plating covering them. A shirt and cravat were accented by a fitted trench coat. The black and red coordination of the outfit made for a spectacle in the light of the moon. Jack clenched his jaw as the same red eyes trained themselves on his form. The creature sniffed, the neat circle beard shifting with the action. It was then that laughter echoed around the walls of the cottage. The monster chuckled darkly, moving towards Jack, his coat billowing out from the backs of his legs as he moved to peer down. Jack shifted against the bricks, but cried out at the pain, his eyes beginning to droop with the blood loss. His hands felt cold. His fingers were slow to respond as he moved his hand away from his thigh, his energy spent, the adrenaline no longer helping to ease the pain. The monster kneeled beside Jack, pressing a cold hand to Jack’s leg to stop the blood flow.

“I could help you, Jack. I could reverse all this pain, these injuries. You could live for eternity if you so wanted to. You could leave behind your life, see things you’ve never seen before, be eternal in the face of time and watch the world change and grow. All of this, and power, I could offer you.” The creature’s lips parted, two rows of sharp teeth gleamed in the light of the moon. Jack’s eyes watched the teeth, and he raised a hand to touch the monster’s cheek, his eyelids drooping. “Angels…angels don’t have razors…for teeth…you must be,” He smiled gently, running his blood-soaked hand across the creature’s mouth, leaving trails of blood along his perfect lips, “an angel of death then…come to claim me for my sins.” Jack chuckled but erupted into coughs, blood coloured spittle landing on the creature’s white collared shirt. “What’s your name…angel of death?” “Gabriel. But I am no angel Jack, I am a creature of blood and darkness.” He almost seemed to take a breath though his chest didn’t move, “I am a vampire…” his eyes glowed in the darkness, the blood of the wolves he had torn to pieces drawing to him from the grass and mud. “You must choose before your time is over brave human. Forsake your humanity for eternity in the world with me, or die here and pray to see your god in heaven.”

Clouded blue eyes starred at Gabriel, and the human’s chest stopped moving, his heart beat faltering in his chest. The whispered words hung in the air on his dying exhale, “Eternity.” he had rasped. Gabriel’s eyes burned red, his hair floating around his head, some evaporating into smoke. His body rippled as he opened his mouth and pierced the skin of the mortal’s neck, draining his blood from his body, drawing the pooled blood from around Jack’s body into the smoke clouding around him. Drawing back his tongue licked over his teeth before he tore his own wrist open, his own darker coloured blood dripping in thick blobs, and placed it in Jack’s mouth tipping the mortal’s head back to make sure the cursed blood entered his system.

A body was pressed against Jack’s when he awoke, a cool form curled around his own, though there wasn’t any breath tickling his neck, just the solid press of someone against him. His ears twitched at the sound of something skittering, and Jack opened his eyes. The sudden overwhelming amount of sensory information made him flinch violently, and he pushed at the arms surrounding him, his other hand scrapping over the walls that enclosed around him. The smooth velvet of the lining of the enclosed space was torn under the claws that grew from his nails. Howling, Jack held his head in his hands, willing away the noises and images from his mind. Memories flashed across his eyes, a bloodied child, betrayal by his own kind, disgusting acts, and the axe falling over his neck as he lapped up the blood of those felled before him. The person behind him pulled his hands away from his eyes, holding them in one hand easily, before pining Jack down by the hips with his other. Under the touch Jack found something within him immediately stop fighting. It hissed in submission and he settled as it commanded. It slithered in his ears, “Maker, my maker.” The voice repeated like a mantra.

Jack peered into those red eyes that had been his death, “My maker.” And watched as a hand pushed the lid to the coffin away to reveal a dark room. They were in a mausoleum, one that had been in Jack’s family for generations. He had been buried, presumed dead by the village. His Maker stretched out his back before covering Jack’s ears with clawed hands. Jacks eyes slowly opened as he felt the noises lessen. The darkness wasn’t a burden anymore. His eyesight was as good as it was in the light as a human, better even. He could see the cracks in the stone of the ceiling above them and blinked as the he them moved his eyes to peer at the creature over him.

Opening his mouth to talk was difficult, and it was then that he realised something was inside it. Raising a lethargic hand, Jack’s fingers grazed over the surface of a rock which had been placed between his teeth. He looked up again at Gabriel, who smirked before leaning forwards, his hair cascading like a waterfall over his shoulders, and prised the rock from between Jack’s teeth. His jaw was locked open for a minute until he flinched as his bones snapped back into position, pulling his jaw back into its sockets. Wetting his mouth, he attempted to speak once more. “How…How long have I been…dead?” Jack’s voice was quiet and rough with lack of use. Gabriel hummed above him pulling his hair back from his face in a dark coloured ribbon, red eyes shining, “About a week, maybe two, the transformation took longer than I expected, but it was probably due to the arm that was almost hanging off. I lost count of the days when the sleep overtook me.” Licking at his fangs, Gabriel smiled, revealing a mouth full of monstrous teeth. “Let me see your mouth. You can’t hunt unless you have your teeth, and I think the rock may have…stunted your growth, let us say.”

Jack cautiously opened his mouth and winced as he felt the push off Gabriel’s claws against his gums. Squirming underneath the creature rewarded him with a cuff to the ear, so he laid still and let Gabriel poke around his mouth. Gabriel crinkled his nose and pressed a fingertip against Jack’s canine, running it down until he met the gum. The monster pressed hard either side of the gum and grinned as the sharp point of Jack’s new tooth burst easily through, pushing the old blunt tooth out of the way. Jack flinched as Gabriel tugged the tooth free and wiggled it in front of his eyes. “Maybe a pixie will come and take it and leave some coins under your pillow.” He snickered and glared at Jack again as he tried to talk, continuing his removal of Jack’s old teeth. Jack sat as still as he could, his mouth pinned open by an iron grip, scared by the lack of pain he was feeling. His teeth just kept sliding out, and he watched as Gabriel laid them in the coffin by Jack’s thigh one by one.

Sometime later Gabriel drew back with a flourish, wielding the last of Jack’s mortal teeth in his hand, drops of blood on his fingertips. Jack felt a shift in his jaw as the new teeth slid fully into place. He ran his tongue over their surface, his face screwing in disgust at the foul-tasting film covering them. Gabriel watched his offspring with interest. He had never sired his own, or inflicted his cursed bloodline upon others. It was a strange feeling, the connection he had with the man beneath him, and he felt a strange energy burn in his chest as he peered at the swirling coloured eyes. Red flakes began to spot Jack’s crystal blue coloured eyes, and Gabriel knew it was time for the brave little hunter to make the night his own, and curse himself to damnation. Gabriel tapped Jack’s arm gently testing Jack’s sensation reception, and nodded as Jack merely looked at him. It seemed the distraction of those useless mortal teeth being removed had allowed his new senses to settle.

“Jack, get up. The night has broken, and you must feed. Without blood your life will wane and you will go back to the dust from which you were born.” The vampire above him gracefully stood up in one fluid movement, dusting his clothes off as he hopped out of the raised coffin. “Feed?” Jack sat up slowly, his body still slow with the lethargy of death and cold, “How do you mean? Surely no one will willingly give us their blood…” Jack ran a hand through his hair, taking in the blue tail coat he had been buried in, the red cravat tight against his throat. His Maker only gave him a cold look. “Surely you are not that naive little hunter? A wolf doesn’t ask for the deer’s meat, it takes it. Why would any human on this rotten little rock willingly give creatures like us their blood?” Gabriel’s dark laughter echoed off the walls of the small mausoleum, causing bats to stir in the roof and shriek to one another. “We take their blood like predators. It is the only way to avoid being hunted and destroyed by these mortals. Never will they accept something they do not understand Jack, remember that.” Gabriel’s eyes burned crimson with annoyance and he pulled his long dark tailored coat on before pushing the great stone door to the tomb open with a single hand, “Now let us go and feast, for the night is young yet.”

Gabriel’s idea of a feast it seemed was a local tavern. The bar was run down and old, the wood of the walls splintering in some places with the wear of the weather against it. A gaudy sign hung above the door, a hunting hound and stag locked in a fight crudely painted on it. Despite its external appearance, the inside was warm and a little stuffy. Bodies were crowded around tables eating, drinking and gambling. A few men had grabbed the serving girls, their hands wandering over young women’s bodies. No doubt they would be one of the many men to pay for a brief session with the tavern girls. Gabriel waltzed into the tavern, his coat gracefully swaying behind him. Jack self-consciously dusted at his own dress clothes, tugging the tight cravat at his throat as his eyes flicked over faces, spotting details he never would have thought about before. Gabriel spread himself in a corner, his arms over the back of a wooden bench as he gave easy smiles to the girls that passed him. Jack seated himself across from Gabriel, an uneasy expression pulling his eyebrows down in a frown.

Gabriel ordered them some drinks, just the standard house ale, and then leaned forwards, speaking in a hushed tone. “Pick one. It is important that you pick someone that would be easily forgotten, their life unimportant to those around them. It means your meal causes less trouble.” Gabriel rotated a wrist around the tavern, “Take a couple of guesses. Who would you choose.” Gabriel gave him an wild smile, his eyes dark in colour, masking his true nature. Jack peered around the room in wonder, unsure of how he could tell who was a good target. For a moment he watched the serving girls, and turned back to Gabriel who shook his head. “It’s not going to be the best turn out for us when someone walks upstairs and finds her dead body in one of the bedrooms is it?” He snickered and waved to the room, “Try again Goldilocks.” Jack sneered at the nickname, baring his fangs in anger, only to be warned with a guttural growl from his Maker. The creature inside him coiled away, its pride wounded, hiding its humiliation by making Jack turn his head back towards the room.

The tavern was full of travellers and townsfolk alike, both men and women of all different back grounds. Jack tried to single out a loner, someone who was drinking by himself. An old man was sat at a table in the corner, but the vampire sneered at the poor meal choice. Gabriel chuckled behind him and took a fake sip of his liquor, reading Jack’s thoughts from the expressions on his face. His lip twitched at the idea of the old man, and Gabriel watched with interest as Jack’s eyes lingered over the young traveller sat in the corner by the window. A hat covered most of the man’s face, but Jack peered easily through the shadow to see a youthful face, a sharp jaw and light coloured brown hair hanging down to his chin, a scruffy beard covering his chin. Instantly, Jack was curious, and he turned back towards Gabriel. The elder vampire was grinning, and rested his head on top of a clenched fist, licking his lips as he watched the throat of the young male bob as he drank from his tankard.

“A little rough around the edges, but I like your taste Jack. Ruggedly handsome I would say.” Red eyes glinted for a moment, and Jack spluttered, his cheeks feeling warm despite his lack of blood flow. “I’m not…I don’t!” He growled as Gabriel laughed at him outright and flinched as the vampire purred across from him. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Who would I have to tell anyway Jack, it is just you and I, after all.” Gabriel stood from his seat then and strode over to the stranger, seating himself at the small circular table the traveller had taken for his own. The man only tilted his head slightly, and then looked out of the steamy window once more. The vampire’s eyes glowed for a moment, as though weaving some sort of power into the air, and Jack wandered over as Gabriel managed to coax a few words from the stranger.

“I’m a sculptor by trade, but I got bored of staying in the workshop, and so here I am. Travelling and sculpting beautiful things for people to buy. My father is probably happy I’m gone.” The man took a long drink from his mug and Jack’s eyes flickered to the man’s neck, his teeth aching with the hunger boiling in his stomach. Gabriel’s lips twitched into a smirk and he leant forwards. “What’s your name artist? I am Gabriel, and this here is my steward Jack.” Jack felt his lips curl in a sneer at the word steward, his instincts demanding that he show he was no underling, but the twist of power by him reminded his feral instincts just how out matched they were against Gabriel. The artist smiled, gentle and kind, “My name is Michael. Ironic I guess, named after the great Michelangelo.” He laughed into his drink bitterly and emptied the rest of it. Jack fetched his and Gabriel’s drinks over to the table.

Sitting himself down, he teased the man, “What you sculpt must be rather important and impressive to have you running away from home.” The vampire smiled as Michael snickered, finally pulling his hat off to reveal a mop of shoulder length mousy brown hair. “Something like that. My father didn’t particularly appreciate my models.” Michael shrugged and waved for another drink from the serving girl. Gabriel leered at the sculptor, “I guess you were doing more than admiring the girls then.” He laughed behind his tankard and took another fake drink. Jack watched the blush bloom on Michael’s cheeks and felt something bloom to life within him. Michael twirled his empty tankard around on the table, embarrassed and defensive. Gabriel probed a little further, his voice soft and laced with teasing lust, “But it wasn’t women you took home was it Michael?” He leaned forwards and blew a cold breath into the artists ear.

Michael leaped to his feet only to have Jack gently touch his shoulder with a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about Gabriel. He has a strange was of putting his…feelings across.” Jack ran his hand down the brunette’s arm and rested it on his hips. A sharp inhale from the sculptor had Jack grinning ferally, and the man quickly pushed Jack away. “If you both want what I think you want then meet me upstairs in room eleven. Give it some time first though.” Jack almost accepted the offer, but Gabriel pressed up behind the shorter male and purred. “How about we collect you in an hour. We’ll rent a room in the Shire Horse tavern and meet you by the entrance?” He hummed into Michael’s neck, and Jack felt something in him stir at the prospect of something more than a meal. Michael exhaled shakily and nodded before placing his hat on again and slinking away to the bar to pay his tab off before leaving in a flutter of green cloak. Gabriel turned to look at Jack and grinned viciously, running his tongue over sharp teeth, “Oh we are in for a treat Jackie.” Jack just starred after the artist with a strange pang in his chest where his heart used to beat.

The Shire Horse Tavern was a darker place than where they had met Michael, and Jack shivered at the cool temperature. Gabriel flashed some fang at the entrance and somehow, they were both let in instantly, despite the queue outside the door. Jack swore he saw a tentacle instead of a hand open the door for them. Gabriel leaned over as they walked in, whispering into Jack’s ear. “It’s a place for the supernatural. All sorts of creatures come here to mingle and, well fulfil their needs I suppose.” His maker rolled his shoulders in a vague gesture and pouted his lips as they settled in a booth by the entrance. “So, I wasn’t seeing things when that man opened the door? He did have a tentacle for a hand, right?” Jack crinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of dog and Gabriel pointed to a table of men with wolf like ears, all of them chewing on slabs of bloodied red meat, before answering Jack’s question with a smile. “That was Gordon, nice man once you get to know him.” The vampire snickered and gracefully stood up. “I’ll book a room, you keep an eye out for our dear friend.” Gabriel purred the words and sauntered over to the bar where a girl with blond hair greeted him, her hands flashing with golden light.

The two of them had shared a couple of drinks as they waited for Michael to appear. Jack’s stomach knotted as he tried to fill it with liquor. Gabriel, eventually, had to pull the beverages away from him and gave them back to the bar maid. Jack whimpered quietly, a hand covering his abdomen as a pain shot up through his abdominal muscles. The vampire opposite gave him a pitying glance and sighed, smoothly sliding around to Jack’s side of the booth and cooing. “Not long Jackie, you’ve done so well, you can wait a little longer, can’t you?” Gabriel blew a cold breath in his ear, and Jack shuddered before nodding and leaning his head into Gabriel’s shoulder, his eyes wanting to close. Gentle pats on his thighs and cheeks kept him conscious. “Come on, cariño. Stay with me now.” Gabriel’s hands petted down Jack’s arms and sides, and the blond jumped slightly as cool hands pressed against his stomach. “Eternal sleep means you’ll miss all the fun Jackie.” Gabriel’s sultry purr sent another ripple down Jack’s spine. He felt something awaken in him as Gabriel grazed his teeth along the skin of Jack’s neck. His instincts screamed for him to fight back, but his weakened body state was compliant, and uncaring, intrigued by the prospect of what his maker may be instigating.

Gordon poked his head in the door then, and pushed a shaken Michael through the door, the suction cups of his tentacled hand sticking to the young man’s cloak as he pulled away. Gabriel made a noise sounding like a growl and coaxed Jack to stand. “It seems our company has arrived Jack. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.” The vampire helped Jack stand and tugged him close, taking Jack’s weight easily, before leading him over to the entrance to collect Michael. The young man was pale and shaken, but smiled when he saw Gabriel and Jack come over. “I thought for a minute that you guys had stood me up.” He smiled nervously, and Gabriel chuckled in that deep timbre, before gently leading Michael forwards, pressing his hand to the small of the man’s back. “We wouldn’t do that to such a cute man such as yourself.” Gabriel’s smile had the youngster flushing bright red, and he coaxed Jack along, who had woken a bit from his small bout of deliria.

As they entered the small room they had booked, Gabriel gently placed Jack in the armchair and then, in the blink of an eye, had Michael pressed up against the door. The artist swallowed heavily, his adam’s apple bobbing. Gabriel leaned down, his hair having erupted from the ribbon holding it back with the speed of his movement, and licked a stripe up Michael’s neck, nipping at his ear lobe with pointed teeth. The man was none the wiser to the change Gabriel had undergone, his eyes burning red in the dark and his mouth full of sharp teeth. Jack’s eyes roamed the body of the elder vampire with interest and he felt a shiver run through him as Michael gave out a moan, Gabriel’s hand tugging the man’s cloak and shirt off his body. The fabrics fell to the floor in piles of torn shreds, and Jack’s eyes widened as his maker corralled the man towards the bed. Michael’s hands flew to Gabriel’s face, and beaten fingertips pressed around the monster’s eye sockets, his mouth opening and closing rapidly.

Gabriel chuckled and smiled, revealing the rows of white jagged teeth, and loomed over the man, giving his hips a thrust for good measure. Michael let out a noise and gripped Gabriel’s shirt desperately, tugging the crisp velvet cravat from around the vampire’s throat. Jack shook as he unsteadily got to his feet, his jaws clenching, the pain in his gut like a hot iron inside him. Michael’s eyes fell on Jack as the younger vampire knelt by his head, eyes swirling blue and red, teeth sharp and dangerous. Gabriel’s chest rumbled with a noise and Jack watched as he pushed Michael’s neck to the side, revealing the delicate skin and the blood vessels thumping against them. Jack’s mouth watered and Gabriel grinned, leaning down and licking over the skin, his hand rubbing at Michael’s chest. “Do it Jack, embrace it.” Gabriel ran a finger across Jack’s cheek as his other hand moved to hold Michael’s neck exposed. Jack moved down and licked the skin, sighing a cold breath as his teeth clicked together. With a snap of his jaws, he embedded his teeth into the man’s neck.

Gabriel grinned beside him, petting Jack’s hair with hushed words as Jack drank. Michael let out a wail and gripped Jack’s shirt, his eyelids fluttering as pain turned to numb pleasure. Gabriel pulled Jack away moments later and hummed licking the blood off Jack’s lips before kissing Jack. The blond responded with a groan and pulled the elder closer, deepening the kiss. Gabriel pulled away first, reverently running a hand through Jack’s hair. “We have eternity for that Jack. Let us finish our meal.” He grinned and pulled Jack down by his shirt, his hair evaporating into smoky curls. Jack smiled, his teeth stained with blood. That was the beginning of Jack’s existence as a vampire of the blood moon.

[gokailyger84]

Here’s part one of my, still untitled, ‘Brainwashed NB’ story.

Danny cried out as he was flung back. His body slamming into a brick wall, knocking the wind out of him. His body fell out of the indention, the force of the blow created and landed hard onto the piles of rubble.  Danny blinked his eyes rapidly, his eyes watering from the dust in the air.  He squinted looking ahead at the battle that continued before him.  

He could see a black blur flashing across the area.  Ninja Brian.  He was zipping back and forth between the enemy.  His sword slashing smoothly through the many bodies. Danny could tell he wasn’t moving at his top speed.  Danny then turned his attention to the scattered members of TWRP.  Each fighting against numerous soldiers.  Their movements were slowing down too.

“Danny!  You okay?”  Danny looked up to see Egoraptor running up to him.  The rapper kneeled next to Danny, helping him sit up.  Danny took in Egoraptor’s condition.  He looked to be in bad shape.  His pink jacket and headband missing. The white shirt he wore underneath in shreds, covered in blood.  His breathing deep and heavy.  He helped Danny to his feet.  The two looked out at the surrounding battle.

“We’re way outnumbered, dude.” Egoraptor stated.  Danny nodded.  That much was obvious.  “What should we do?”  Egoraptor asked, turning to face Danny.  

Danny didn’t reply, just watching the carnage before him.  Who would’ve thought that a distress call from that cute blonde he had been courting, would result in an ambush.  He and Ninja Brian were lucky that TWRP and Egoraptor weren’t too far away.  For all the good that was doing.  

He shouldn’t have called them.  Now, they were all fighting for their lives. Danny’s incompetence once again getting himself and his friends into deep shit. 

On top of all that, they still weren’t even sure who the actual enemy was or why they were being attacked with such ferocity and large numbers.  Sure, Danny’s pissed off a lot of people, sometimes unknowingly.  He had made a bad habit of it. But the retaliation had never been so severe.  Not since Danny and Ninja Brian had deserted their clan.  

That aside.  They needed to leave. Now.  Danny may be able to take a beating without being killed but the others could not.  He looked at Egoraptor, who was still waiting for direction.  Why they looked to him as a leader, he still didn’t understand.

“Go round up TWRP and get out of here.”  Egoraptor frowned.

“What about you and B?”  Danny waved him off, facing the direction he had last saw his partner.  

“Ninja Brian and I will hold them off.”   Egoraptor nodded.  

“Okay.”  He gently squeezed Danny’s shoulder.  “Stay safe, man.”  

With that, he turned, running off in the direction TWRP was in.  Danny watched him go before taking a deep breath, and throwing himself back into the battle, moving towards Ninja Brian’s position.

Ninja Brian grunted as he was hit from behind.  He immediately spun around, swinging his blood covered sword in an arc.  He distantly heard a scream as his blade sliced through his attacker.  Ninja Brian crouched low, performing a flash step, putting some distance between him and the enemy.  He took a quick breath.  

He had been fighting non-stop for a while now.  His movements were becoming sluggish.  The soldiers never ending.  His chakra rapidly depleting.  He had lost track of Danny, Egoraptor and TWRP.  Wasn’t sure if they were okay or not.  Ninja Brian hoped they were, especially Danny.  Ever since his partner had turned away from their ninja past, Ninja Brian had appointed himself Danny’s permanent protector.

A leg then filled his vision, rushing towards his face.  Ninja Brian twisted out of the way, only to be hit, once again, from behind.  His vision exploded in white . The intense pain extending from the point of impact at the back of his head.  Ninja Brian’s body pitched forward.  His knees dropping down to the ground, sword flying from his grip.  He stretched his arms out, catching himself.  

Ninja Brian grabbed his head in pain, his eyes clenched shut, waiting for the disorienting feeling to pass. A sudden sharp pain, had him gasping, roughly rolling onto his side. He must have been kicked.  Ninja Brian opened one eye, placing a hand flat onto the ground, struggling to get back up.  He tried to focus, call up more chakra, only to come up empty.  He had used it all.  He’d have to tap into his life force if he wanted to keep fighting.  

He suppressed a wince as heavy boot covered his hand, slowly applying pressure.  More boots filled his view.  He was surrounded. He felt a hand grab the back of his gi, yanking him back up to his knees.  Ninja Brian’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, the force of a fist digging under his ribcage.  He couldn’t do anything but grit his teeth, taking the punches as they came.  

“Make a hole!”  Someone yelled.  

Ninja Brian struggled to lift his head up, the assault having ceased for now. He cracked an eye open.  His vision was darkening on the edges.  He could feel blood pouring from his, probably broken nose.  The aches from his battered body, nearly overtaking his senses.  The back of his mask was tightly grabbed. His head forced back.  

Ninja Brian looked up, his eyes widening.  A figure dressed in traditional black ninja garb, stood before him, glaring darkly down on him, with emerald green eyes. That wasn’t what caught his eyes though.  The symbol on the figure’s left breast.  A symbol he had hoped he’d never see again.

“It’s been a long time, Ninja Brian.” The figure said in a deep voice, looking past Ninja Brian.  His head jerking in a quick nod.

A sharp pressure at the base of his neck had Ninja Brian vision darkening further.  The soldier holding him, the only thing keeping him upright.  

“Let’s go.  We have what we came for.”  

The last thing Ninja Brian heard before his consciousness faded away.

[archivesdiveronarpg]

Congratulations, FALLON! You’ve been accepted for the role of TYBALT. You and Tiberius have something in common: you’re killers. Okay, so maybe that’s not the best comparison, as they’re very different types of killings, but you nailed this application, and there’s really no better way to put it. You understood his hunger for power and his thirst for blood and indulged it, but you also entertained the idea of seeing him fall, and I loved that. Your Tiberius was surprisingly thoughtful and calculating at times and wonderfully blunt at others, and both sides of him fit perfectly together to form the puzzle of Tybalt. His underground fighting in the para sample was also a great touch. I could go on all day, really, but the bottom line is that we’re so happy you applied and can’t wait to see where you bring him! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within twenty-four hours.

                                                                          WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Fallon

Age | Twenty-One

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I have watched Diverona since it hit the tags, and have been prying at the chance to audition (sadly time has not been on my side). Due to university and work, I was unable to apply in hopes of being a part of its opening. Though my schedule has lessened, I am still fairly busy, but believe I would be able to log on at least once a day to execute replies! On a scale of 1-10 I would currently place myself at a 7. I do expect that to raise after a few weeks, however.

Timezone | CST

In Character

Character | TYBALT, Tiberius Capulet

What drew you to this character? | So, I’m a sucker for any antagonist (especially those who do not necessarily have a redeeming quality or reason for their malevolence). I’m the person who cheers for Iago when Othello’s convinced he’s a cuckold. After all, what is a story without its villain? I often play volatile, battle-worn characters. When I first read Tiberius’ bio, I was struck by the following findings: Consumed by bloodlust and a need for power, the world will never be enough for Tiberius. The moment he accomplishes his next goal, boredom will strike, and he will want more and more and more. His anger will only increase with the realization that no matter how much power he possesses, how many kills he counts, he will never be satisfied. He runs on sheer violence, and that is how he expects his end. And he may hold ferocity, but his personal army is nothing compared to what he is capable of releasing when his family is put into question.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | There are so many different ways I could see taking his character? I would love to explore his ascent toward the throne he craves, but also the failure of descent. To him, anything is necessary to get where he wants, and he would do anything to get there— selfish he is with the idea of power.

1. Trust— He has none to give to others, and none to give to himself. Tiberius does not make room for others in his life, and he does not allow insight into his being. What he allows to be seen is the known brute— the flesh outside the skeleton. I would love to see someone be able to break him down, and have Tiberius possibly allow a confidante to enter his life. It would be interesting to see him have something good in his life for a change, despite the fact his destruction would no doubt lead to its ruin.

2. Fallen— Tiberius is good at collecting his enemies, and bringing them low. However, he has not experienced what it is to lose. He plays chessmaster and he plays it well. I think it would be entertaining to see him stripped of power whether that be as a captive/result of the Montagues or by the hand of his own Capulet family, where perhaps his acts have come back to haunt him.

3. Tyranny— And, of course, I would also love to see Tiberius succeed with his antagonistic ideals. I would like to explore the depth of his villainy, and see how far he could make it before questioning his own reasonings for its pursuit. He is a force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable, a tsunami difficult to predict. And I would love to witness the demolition he’s capable of while he occupies Verona.

In Depth

Violence TW, Blood TW, Parental Death TW

What is your favorite place in Verona? |

The flames licked behind dark irises. That was rather personal. Through his stoic demeanor came a feign of allowance where discord stood vigil. The inquiry posed could never truly hold a valid response. To allow a crack disrupt his fortress? The idea was built on an inferior man’s principles.

He sunk into the leather sofa — his seat a throne wherever he sat— and hoisted legs crossed at the ankle atop a crystalline table. Someone’s priceless heirloom, no doubt. Tiberius pictured his knuckles testing the strength of the glass, and the force needed to fracture its history. How little he cared, and how much he urged to set ablaze someone’s foundation of precious memory.

Tiberius considered memorable locations. The simplest, most thoughtless answer revolved around Capulet headquarters. The Cathedral. Its structural intricacies and pillared feats were comprised of holy marble; forged into a castle of deliverance. Yet the Capulet Captain bore through its fallacies. The starkness was a guise— its true color the deep red of wet crimson. Its stained glass depicted faith’s possible fables where violence was its true resignation. And the confessional? Oh, how Tiberius’ words could set its frame ablaze. The presence of his sins could ignite it, perishing the priest to embers, leaving the scene to ash.

No, the Cathedral would not be believable.

There was the Castelvecchio bridge, though speaking of its warring, ancient brick would reveal far more than he wished to expose. Despite its battlefield— the expanse of valley between two impending, colliding armies— the warfront did not hold the qualifications that his favorite did.

His favorite was where the holes in walls mirrored the shape of his fist. Where amber liquid dripped from half-empty liquor casings. Where the entirety of a room’s expanse was vacant except for his crimes. Where he was left to rot in his rage, and host a party-of-one game of Russian roulette. Where he would somehow conquer the drawback of the hammer, and win against the chamber’s detonation. He had yet to find the bullet’s placement, and Tiberius wasn’t certain if it was God’s gift or his punishment. Tiberius wasn’t certain a God existed beyond the veil of death.

His favorite was an apartment that did not reflect the vitality of his money. It was small, harbouring furniture weathered by his siege. There, hint of smoke lingered from sticks of nicotine. Its historic value came from the balcony, where he could be the eagle, and the city below his prey. His favorite was where no one had stepped except for him, where various books were strewn about in the secrecy of his privacy, and where weakness was sheltered.

“I think,” he began, his tone punctuated by self-induced vexation, “your questions will earn you a bullet.” As if his statement held a comical punch line, the Captain tapped his temple with the pad of his index finger. “Right here.”

What does your typical day look like?

He could feel his hands become coated in oil-slick scarlet, sticking his palms together with enemy blood. Then his fingers, curling around his pistol’s grip, and the soundless echo of a compressor’s release as a bullet embed itself within the skull of its victim. His ‘typical’ day comprised itself with feral delights. There was nothing to hide that was not unearthed at the Capulet’s volatile core. His days were fire and blood. They were torturous for Capulet enemies; an execution for those who did not follow their laws.

“Bloody.” he revealed, his voice void of the word’s severity. “Violent.” Except for when he turned yellowed pages, fingers delicate upon worn, leathery spines. “Lethal.” Except for when he sat at the base of a steady canal, or laid himself upon a fountain’s storytelling edge.

His smirk was a trap. It was an invitation to lean toward the wolf’s bloodied maw and bare their jugular to ivory fangs; their life forfeit to his usurping snarl.

His days existed to fell every creature that did not possess the Capulet name.

“You wouldn’t want to be caught in the midst of my typical day.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Unnecessary, the Captain thought, but fun. It was built into each side’s lineage. The hatred was forced to be palpable, integrated into each birthed soul within either mob. His princeling father had not been able to fulfill that duty, and his mother had perished upon the birth of the dark omen that was her son. That left his Uncle to instill their warring victories, where dead parents became ash spread to the world’s tomb.

“It has been going on far longer than anyone fucking cares to know.” Tiberius remarked dismissively. “I don’t give a fuck to know how it started.” At this point, did it matter? It could have been a remedial affair, but whatever its birth had harvested had festered into something on a grandiose scale. “But I know one thing.” He had been bored among the first query, and the second. Now, he met his interviewer’s gaze. He looked, but his answer was meant for him alone.

“It’ll end.” With Montague blood pooling in cobblestone streets.

In-Character Para Sample:

Violence TW, Blood TW, Death TW

His breath was a cloud within the underground’s damp spacing. The perspiration marked his skin, coercing droplets of sweat from askew tresses. The man was dressed in enemy blood. The ring had rained scarlet and crimson, painted cracked cement with deep red rubies.

The fifth victim of the night advanced. Tiberius pivoted on his left boot, swinging a fist up and beneath the man’s chin. Bone to flesh, the hit connected with its target. But the swing was a distraction for his next move; the impact was not at its greatest caliber. The body crumpled into a brief heap of limbs, and Tiberius dipped forward and slammed back his elbow to pierce a gut, avoiding a hastily thrown arm by a new opponent. The enemy was met with a block of his upper arm. Pivot here, duck there. Jab a punch spin to the side, fake right move left. Strike up like a viper. A series of movements; forged into a fatal dance with meticulously forced practice. His muscles were aflame; his mind a banshee threatening murder. He drew a sea of red from unmarked skin.

Voices reigned his name like a King.

A spray of pink mist canvased Tiberius’ face as his knuckles met a sputtering mouth; then a final strike across an ivory jugular, and the crowd erupted. They were a storm of bets lost and won, thunderous echoes of senseless shouting as cash was exchanged. He could go all night, but even the Captain knew when to call it quits. He’d rather his head hit pavement than get sloppy. Than get mediocre. The crowd parted as he stepped out, several allies clapping him on the shoulder as he moved toward his belongings resting within a shadowed corner. His victims were left in a darkling wake.

Tiberius ran a threadbare towel across dirty flesh, staining the cloth various shades of scarlet. He was shrugging a leather jacket over both shoulders when a voice lulled him from a victor’s foggy, smug state.

“Tiberius.”

He turned to face his approacher, hand pushing back damp hair. A Capulet soldier. For the most part, Tiberius’ underground excursions were a secrecy. His conquests among the common rabble were frozen above this layer of chaotic hell. When you were a part of the family, however, who could hide from Cosimo?

Still, the interruption was met with his biting onslaught. “Can’t handle an evening without the Captain?”

His company cleared their throat, shrunk away from the rising agitation of their superior. Tiberius remained amused: who had sent the weak to collect him?

“A client needs convincing.”

He swiped a speckling of blood from his neck. Behind him, the ring had claimed new challengers, and the crowd of bulls had begun their vocal earthquake. His conquering had been forgotten; reset until his next visit. Swinging his pack in the soldier’s direction, he shouldered past the man in pursuit of the exit. He heard a distinct grunt— the Captain rolled his eyes.

He inhaled the air above, welcomed the clean intake— as clean as Verona’s streets allowed— and cool atmosphere beyond the smothering heat below. Sliding a pistol beneath the back of his waistband, Tiberius climbed into the awaiting vehicle.

———

A contact had squealed, and a shipment of guns had gone missing aboard a black market transfer.

His knuckles had been a battered, furious red at the end of his underground fight regime. Now, they were busted and the colorful array of a storm. His victim’s cranium had long since begun to hang. When Tiberius addressed him, a fine-suited man gripped sweat-slicked hair and wrenched back their head.

A seat clattered against the floor before the Capulet’s captive. Taking his place upon it, Tiberius folded his arms and rested them upon the wooden backing. “This isn’t looking good for you,” he stated. A glob of red fell from his opponent’s lips. An eye was glued shut by a raging welt. His features were nearly pulverized by Tiberius’ advances. Whatever the man was attempting to voice was passed over. “And it’s going to get worse. Who bought you?” Who will I hunt to replace our weapons?

It was an endless chorus of pleading. It always was. Each sentiment fell on deaf ears. To shut their cowardice trance, Tiberius pulled the pistol from his waistband.

The wolf sneered, “Who bought you?”

The pullback of the hammer created an audible echo throughout the warehouse basement.

When an answer failed to reveal itself, his aim tilted from an eye to a kneecap. Click.

Tiberius had long become desensitized to senseless screaming. Tears cascaded, leaving a stream of salt to streak blood.

“I’ll cripple you,” the Captain threatened, pointing the barrel toward the second knee, “I’ll leave you in a state worse than death.”

The information came as a flood did after a broken dam. At its completion, Tiberius rose from his throne in Tartarus. “I’ll deal with this,” he told his battalion, “you deal with that.” He turned away from the degenerate specimen.

They called after him. “Wait— please. I told you, I told you everything.”

He did not bother to face the man as he replied, “That was your problem to begin with.”

The golden bullet came next, the impact concaving skull and scrambling brain.

Extras: Compiled a playlist right here: click me

And sorry about the wait!

[mockingbird-uncaged]

dying is an art

Xan awoke to the tickle of fur on his cheek. 

He opened his eyes groggily as a cat’s striped tail flicked across his face, his blurry vision refocusing to fix itself on the creature’s skinny, bedraggled shape. Indifferent to the half-elf’s signs of life, the cat crouched beside him and began to lap at the puddle of blood encircled by Xan’s outstretched arm. His blood, sticky and red, spilling sluggishly from the knife wound in his side.

Right. That was why he blacked out.

Xan lifted his arm with an effort, momentarily startling the cat, but he only pet it weakly, trembling fingers stroking along its short, dusty fur. The cat relaxed and rubbed against his hand instead, its chin wet with blood.

“Not today,” he said, his voice rasping. “Not yet.”

Xan’s whole body was on fire with pain, but he turned his head to look around. He was surrounded by half a dozen bodies, none of them moving. One of his little knives was sticking out of the nearest man’s eye. The dim warehouse was silent. His partner- who accounted for at least half of these bodies- was nowhere to be seen.

It took him a minute, a slow, agonizing minute, but eventually he managed to pull his one vial of healing potion out of his pocket. He downed it with a wince and let its magic course through him, knitting him back together. He felt the wound in his side close up, his cuts and bruises fade, the pain retreat to a distant ache, reinvigorating him. Like he hadn’t almost just died. 

He was a mess of bloodstained clothes and scuffed leather, his hair half-escaping from where he’d pinned it up and spilling down the nape of his neck. He felt filthy just from lying on the stone floor for a few minutes. But as long as he could haul his ass out of here, everything else was just noise.

The cat purred as he sat up and pushed himself to his feet, winding between his legs and away. Xan wondered if it would make a meal out of the real corpses. Probably.

He retrieved three of his knives and his left-handed dagger, wiping the blood off on the clothes of his victims. All members of the Mad Dog street gang. Couldn’t claim self defense here, since he had instigated the fight. Following orders. Kill them and run.

“Rook,” he said, stepping over the bodies. “Rook, you asshole, where are you?” 

A small cough led him to the opposite side of a nearby tower of crates. His partner was sprawled with his back to the wall, a jagged stake of wood sticking out of his chest, the body of a human brawler lying several feet away. Pieces of a broken crate were scattered around him. 

Xan looked between him and the human with a raised brow. “Clocked you for a bloodsucker, did he?”

Rook rolled his red eyes upwards to look at him, breathing laboriously. His pale skin was damp with sweat. “Shut up. Help me.”

Xan crouched down beside him and wrapped a hand around the stake. He braced himself against the wall and pulled as hard as he could, yanking the wood from Rook’s heart. The dhampir gasped, a strained sound. His black clothes glistened with blood.  

“We need to leave,” Xan said brusquely. “How long is it gonna take you to heal?”

“Too long.” Rook coughed again. He put a hand to the hole in his chest.

"You don’t have a potion on hand?”

“Not allowed.” Rook’s garnet eyes slid over to him. “You?”

“He only gives me one per mission. I just drank it.”

“So you’re healed up then.” His voice was suspiciously neutral, and something about it set off warning bells in his head. Xan automatically reached for his dagger, but it was too late: Rook lunged at him with the last of his strength, slamming him back against the brick and knocking the weapon from his hand. He grabbed Xan by his long hair and forced his head to the side, his throat open and vulnerable.

“Rook, wait-”

“Quiet, Mockingbird,” the dhampir hissed, and sank his fangs into Xan’s neck.

Pain lanced through him, sharp and white. Rook’s fingers were like iron gripping him, his body pinning Xan’s in place as he drank his blood. 

Weak. Useless. Always the bird in the trap. He didn’t even have the room to go for a dagger. Enraged frustration at his own helplessness scorched him. He tried to speak again, a curse or Rook’s name, but whatever it was died as a gasp on his tongue as the dhampir dug his fangs in deeper. There was a roaring in his ears that blocked everything else out. 

Sudden lassitude slipped over him like a wave, peaking in a moment of shadowed vision before it ebbed. Just when Xan started to worry that this would go really, really badly for him, he felt Rook slide his fangs out and pull away. 

He let Xan go and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The wildness in his eyes faded.   

The wound in his chest closed. 

Xan watched him, panting, a hand protectively covering his neck. He didn’t feel much worse for the wear: all in all, Rook hadn’t taken a lot.

They stared at each other for a long, charged moment. Then Xan balled up his fist and punched him in the face.

He knew it hurt his own hand more than it actually hurt Rook, just as he knew that Rook was fast enough to have stopped him, or dodged. But the dhampir let the blow land.

“I deserved that,” he said, rubbing his jaw. Of course, he could afford to be gracious, with Xan’s blood coursing through him, healing the rest of his hurts. Bastard. 

“You deserve more, but we don’t have time,” Xan snapped. He got to his feet and started tying his hair back in place while he walked. There was still half a city between them and the safety of the Nest, and had to get out of the area before any other Mad Dogs found them.

Rook picked up his rapier, sheathed it, and followed in silence.

When he could, Xan liked to steal away to the rooftop and look out over the city. It felt good to be alone and out in the open air, even if he couldn’t leave the building. It wasn’t an ugly city, at least from up high. He could see down to the water up here, watch as night fell in pieces over Westgate. 

Footsteps from behind told him that he wasn’t alone, but they were footsteps he recognized. He didn’t move from his alcove as Rook came into view. Xan hadn’t seen him since they’d gotten back to the Nest early that morning. He was glad; he’d needed that time away from him to get less spitting mad over what he’d done.

“So,” Xan began conversationally, his voice near a drawl, “what was biting me like? Fun?” 

Rook stared at him for a long moment, his expression not entirely closed off, like a door left ajar; but beyond was only a darkness Xan could not see into. Wordlessly, the dhampir reached into his coat pocket and held out a ripe fig. 

Xan took it and turned it over in his hand with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the answer? Did you just happen to be carrying a fig around in case I asked you that?”

“No, it’s repayment.” Rook sat down on the ledge across from him, his back to the city. “In case you’d rather accept a gift than exact some revenge on me later.”

Xan so rarely got to enjoy fruit, and he’d never had a fig. Rook must have known that, since they were both fed the same. Did he know how effective it would be as a bribe?

He pressed his thumbs into the top of the fig, bruising the smooth dark skin. The flesh gave way easily, splitting open to reveal the wet red insides. He brought one half to his mouth and bit into it, feeling the juice spill down his chin. The fruit was soft, and the sweet flavor burst onto his tongue like a revelation, awakening his senses. He felt suddenly ravenous, like an animal starved for meat. He swallowed with a shiver and took another bite, tearing into the pulpy flesh. Seeds crunched between his teeth. He ate the first half, skin and all, and started in on the second.

It was only after he’d nearly devoured the whole thing that he remembered Rook at all. He stopped, raised his head. The dhampir was studying him in a way that made him put his shoulders back, although in defiance of what, he wasn’t sure.

“That is what it was like,” Rook said into the silence.

Xan felt heat creep up his neck. He looked down at the desiccated fruit still dripping in his hand. Then he lobbed it right past Rook’s shoulder, over the edge of the roof. Rook never flinched. 

“You’re morbid,” Xan said.

Rook brushed the pad of his thumb over one of his sharp canines. “I think it comes with the territory. What’s your excuse, Mockingbird?”

Xan's mouth felt as raw as an open wound, aching from the experience of taste. He shrugged, sucked a bit of pulp from the base of his palm. “I’m already dead.”

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER TEN

Sunlight was not Nikki’s friend at the moment. Her new irises were not only eerie, but also more sensitive to light. Any kind of light, in any amount. And sunlight was the worst.

“Oh my God, this is awful,” she muttered, covering her eyes and halting at the curb. “How am I supposed to function like this?”

She felt Griffin step closer, and his shadow blocked out some of the harsh rays. “Can you see?”

Steeling herself, she opened her lids a sliver and stared at the ground. “Okay, this isn’t terrible. I don’t want to rip my eyes from their sockets, so that’s an improvement,” she said to his boots. “This can’t be normal, can it? I mean, I know things are usually freaky when it comes to… your job, but this isn’t par for the course is it?”

“No,” Griffin admitted. “I’ve never even heard of something like this.”

Closing her eyes again, she tipped her head back and shrugged. “Well great. Here I am, your friendly neighborhood enigma.”

Griffin’s soft chuckle rolled through his chest and she felt it reverberate in her own.

“I think I have some sunglasses in my travel pack,” he said. Gently taking her by the shoulders, he moved her a few paces to the side. “Stay here, and I’ll go look for them.”

“I think I’ve seen this cartoon before. This is where the catapult with an anvil is aimed, right?”

He laughed again. “Of course not. Now don’t step off the bull’s eye- I mean, into the street.”

“Well if I have to go, at least it’s in classic Looney Toons fashion,” she said. “Okay, I’ll be right here next to this-” she patted the metal box at her side “-Newspaper dispenser?”

“Hey, you’re good at that. You should join a carnival or something.”

“It’s my career plan B,” she said. She could hear his footsteps begin to fade and she called, “Hurry back.”

With her vision gone, her other senses were working double time. Ambient noise from pedestrians was amplified and sharpened, to the point where she could hear the differences in people’s strides and the way each person breathed as they walked. Her olfactory system was rapidly analyzing and cataloging every scent, giving her a thorough, and disgusting, assessment of the city block she was on.

And then the ground began to shake.

No, not the ground. It was Nikki.

It was a fierce quaking that came from within, starting at her bones and moving outwards, through the fibrous muscles in her legs to the tender skin beneath her clothes. It pulsed in sync with her heart, which was now drumming out a war beat so intense she couldn’t hear anything else. She thought she would collapse again, unsure if her body could withstand such a strange onslaught.

That’s when her eyelids snapped open, and she bolted.

* * *

Screeching tires and angry shouts brought Griffin’s head around just in time to see a billowing dark auburn comet dashing across the busy intersection, narrowly missing a taxi.

His heart stalled and struggled to restart. Why was Nikki running?

“Nikki!” He called, sprinting after her. “Nikki, wait!”

The force of his boots landing on concrete shuddered through him, and he propelled himself faster. Nikki was barely visible ahead, and had he not been preoccupied with catching up to her, he might’ve taken a moment to marvel at her speed.

She disappeared around a corner and he cursed roughly. He rushed past slower pedestrians, ignoring the shocked gasps as he moved through a dense cluster of people.

Where the fuck was she going?

Spotting her at the end of the block, he yelled after her. “Nikki, stop!”

Instead she ran straight between two cars, causing one to swerve to miss her. Griffin’s heart stalled a second time, and lodged itself in his throat.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed.

Dodging traffic, he didn’t slow his pace, finally within a few yards of her. Taking a wide right across another street with fewer cars, Nikki ran into an alleyway and vanished. Barreling into the mouth of the alley, Griffin skidded to a stop, kicking up gravel as he slid.

Nikki stood motionless in the center of the small path, staring up at the surrounding rooftops, completely unaware of his presence.

Fear and panic comingled in his gut, turning into hot terror that seared its way up his throat.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” He yelled, striding forward. “You jumped straight into traffic back there. Did you even notice or were you running with your eyes closed?”

“Shh,” Nikki told him, gesturing with her hand.

Griffin glared at the back of her head. “Are you- Are you kidding me?” He snapped. “You’re telling me to be quiet, when you almost became road kill?”

“There’s something here,” she whispered, taking a small step forward.

Blowing out a warm breath, he planted his hands on his hips. “Yeah, trash and rocks,” he said, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. “And, oh look, a pigeon. Great sightseeing adventure, really, it was a big thrill. Now let’s go.”

Nikki glanced over her shoulder, and her iridescent gaze landed on him with tangible force. “Don’t you feel it?”

He scowled, shaking his head. “Feel what?”

“The pull,” she murmured, walking further down the alley.

It took serious effort, but Griffin was able to clamp down on the panic spinning inside of him long enough to let his other senses do their jobs.

Nikki’s head tilted to the left as if she heard something, and after several moments the dogs started growling.

His Glock was in his hand in an instant.

“Looking for us?”

Griffin spun and aimed his weapon up, in the direction of the man’s voice.

Above them, crouching on fire escapes and perching atop railings and pipes, was a growing pack of Vampires. More prowled over the rooftop ledges, crumbling brick with their fingers and raining clay dust on the two below.

“Haven’t seen you around much O’Connor,” the male Vampire continued, flashing his fangs. “I was starting to think you were out of commission.” His ghoulish white gaze shifted to Nikki and he leaned forward. “Whoa, freaky eyes…”

“Look who’s talking,” Nikki retorted.

The male chuckled. “Feisty. I like it.” His grin was lethal. “I wonder how much of a fight you’ll put up when I’m ripping out your insides.”

“Damn, I forgot how cocky you Newborns can be,” Griffin said, stepping in front of Nikki. “I know immortality’s fun and all, but how about you cut yourselves off a slice of humble pie, huh? No need to spend eternity acting like a dick.”

Growls reverberated off the surrounding walls, and two females clinging to a metal railing snapped their teeth in warning.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Griffin muttered. Glaring at the male pack leader, he said, “So is this flirtation gonna amount to anything or are you just yanking my chain?”

“Let’s see…” The male smirked. “You’ve only got two guns, one of which is still in your holster, and two magazines with twelve bullets in each clip. Even taking into account your reputation for being an excellent marksman, you’ll still need at least two bullets each to be absolutely sure you made your mark. And that leaves you dangerously out of ammo.”

“Look who passed eighth grade math. Your mommy must be so proud.”

“My mother died in the forties,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now what’s it gonna be Hunter?” He swung from the top landing, to the one below, alighting on the steel railing. “Fight or flight?”

Absently, Griffin felt the pulsing vibrations of his phone in his pocket, and he gritted his teeth. Now was really not the time.

Eyes still locked on the Vampire, Griffin took half a step back towards Nikki. “Hey Nik, how are your shoes?”

“My shoes?” Nikki blinked at him, silently questioning his sanity.

“Yeah,” he said. “You know, after that nice little jog we had, I just wanted to make sure your shoes were still alright.”

Scowling, Nikki answered, “My shoes are fine Griffin.”

“No blisters?” He asked. “Your socks aren’t doing that annoying bunching thing are they? ‘Cause I hate when that happens.”

“My socks are perfectly un-bunched, Griffin,” she said, her voice hitching slightly.

“Good,” he said with a firm nod. “Then you should run.”

Griffin squeezed the trigger, before turning and grabbing a hold of Nikki’s arm, pulling her with him as they ran. He hadn’t needed a second bullet- His aim was perfect. Falling to the ground, grey-green ooze spilled from the bullet wound in the Vampire’s chest. The hole cracked and caved in, decay quickly spreading throughout his body. In seconds he disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing behind but dirty clothing and a pair of boots.

Furious roars erupted from the pack as they leapt after them. Splitting their group, half stayed to the roof tops while the others made a running jump to the ground, their heavy foot falls gaining on Nikki and Griffin.

Pushing her ahead, Griffin turned and aimed at the pack behind them. He hit two in the chest but missed their hearts by a few centimeters. He kept firing, knowing the silver would slow them down.

“Run,” Griffin shouted at her. As fast as before.

Nikki understood what was implied, pumping her legs faster. She rounded the corner and glanced up, watching the Vampires vaulting overhead. Their movements were bestial; some of them dropping to all fours to pounce over obstacles and hurtle to the next building.

“Where do I go?” She yelled behind her.

“Straight!” Griffin shouted over the gunfire.

Going straight was more treacherous than she anticipated, as it led them right out into a busy street. If they survived, she was going to have a long talk with Griffin about his hypocrisy.

Leaping over the hood of a sedan, she navigated the four lanes of traffic as horns blared around her. Sounds of crunching metal brought her head around and she gasped, seeing a half a dozen Vampires hop-scotching across the tops of cars and vans, leaving foot shaped craters in the roofs.

Just as she made it past a white service van she heard the awful squeal of tires and a sickening thud that nearly brought her to a full stop in front of a bus. She skidded to the other side of the street and whirled around, preparing for the worst.

“Griffin?” She screamed over the noise. When she didn’t see him, her stomach twisted.

Her right foot was off the curb, ready to go back for him, when the top of his head popped over the bumper of the taxi that hit him. The horrified driver was rambling in Italian and leaning out of his open window. Shoving himself off the ground, Griffin scrambled away from the Vampires that were gaining on him by the millisecond.

“Go!” He shouted, just as his left leg buckled, and he started to pitch forward.

Catching him by the forearm, Nikki hauled him with her as she started running. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, as if she couldn’t see he was limping. “Just go!”

Reluctantly, Nikki released him and aimed herself forward, sprinting past confused pedestrians and busy store fronts. She turned right down a wide alley and nearly collided with a delivery man and his hand truck. Weaving, she ran past him, hoping Griffin was right behind her.

The path divided into a T-shape and she started to take another left, until she saw it was blocked by several dumpsters. Skidding awkwardly, she glanced off the brick wall and headed right, towards another street.

Something whirred past her ear with a deafening bang that sent her reeling. Covering her head, her eyes darted everywhere, searching for the source of the gunshot.

Boz stood at the end of the alley, aiming his gun over Nikki’s head, and firing a second shot. She could hear the screech of a dying female before the body fell to the ground, shattering into chunks of ashy flesh.

“C’mon,” he yelled, squeezing the trigger again, bringing down a lanky male.

Nikki started to slow her gait, but Boz waved her past.

“Keep going,” he ordered, turning to run once Griffin was close. Two more shots were fired- from whose gun she wasn’t sure. But she did as she was told, continuing to sprint down the sidewalk.

Ducking into an empty doorway, Boz pulled a set of compact canisters from his belt and pushed the release valves.

“These oughtta slow ‘em down,” he said, leaving one near the building and rolling the other in the direction they’d just come.

“You brought the silver flashes?” Griffin asked as Boz picked up his pace.

“I figured this was an emergency,” Boz said. “Here,” he called, handing Griffin extra clips. “Happy I brought those?”

“Very,” Griffin said with a nod.

The question of what the silver flashes did was on Nikki’s lips, when a sharp pop sounded behind them, followed by a hiss and a stream of glittering smoke. A female Vampire ran directly through the cloud, and screamed. Her skin warped and tore, melting off her bones. She clutched her disintegrating face, futilely trying to protect her sensitive eyes and mouth. Retching, she stumbled and collapsed to the ground, twitching.

“Holy shit,” Nikki gasped.

“Gross and effective,” Boz called, looking over his shoulder. “Just how we like it.”

They ran at top speed for three blocks before slowing to a fast jog. The thinned pack was nowhere for them to see, but Nikki could still feel their presence circling in a wide radius. They weren’t being hotly pursued anymore. They were being corralled.

“We need a plan,” she said quietly, unsure of how good Vampire hearing was.

Boz skidded to a stop and gestured for them to follow him into another alley. “Over here,” he said, trotting past overflowing dumpsters.

Secluded in a nest of refuse, the trio regrouped, which at first only involved catching their breath.

“Alright, so bullet points,” Boz said, nodding at them. “You guys were hit with a massive shit storm. You’re injured-” he said, pointing at Griffin’s blood soaked shin. “-And you’re… Whoa… Freaky eyes,” he stammered, fully taking notice of Nikki’s bright gold-green eyes.

“That’s gonna get old fast,” she muttered, looking to Griffin.

Boz cleared his throat. “Sorry, guess we’ll talk about that later,” he said.

“How did you find us?” Griffin asked, pressing his shoulder blades into the brick.

“You had your phone on,” Boz explained. “So I tracked your GPS.”

Griffin couldn’t remember being so thrilled with his friend doing something so illegal. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Boz said, grinning. “So now what?”

“They’re closing in,” Nikki said, feeling the sinking sensation of dread.

“And they have both our scents, which gives them an advantage,” Griffin said, grimacing as he shifted his weight off his wounded leg.

“What do you mean both?” Boz frowned. “I mean, I get how they have yours, ‘cause you’re kinda gushing the red stuff everywhere,” he said, motioning to Griffin and the subsequent blood trail he left behind him. “But how’d they get Nikki’s?”

“They took some of my clothes so they could track me,” she said.

“Great. Just when I thought Vampires couldn’t get any creepier…”

Griffin looked to Nikki. “We’ve gotta get you somewhere safe,” he said.

“How?” Boz asked. “She just said they’re closing in, which means-” He stopped, eyes shifting as if he was analyzing an equation written in the air. “Which means we can take back the upper hand.”

“Boz?” Griffin furrowed his brow, watching his friend.

“I have an idea,” Boz said. “Actually I have about a dozen, so you’re just gonna have to go with me on this.”

Griffin recognized the dancing spark in Boz’s eyes. It usually meant trouble.

“First, we have to hide you,” Boz said, jerking his chin at Nikki.

“Where?”

Pacing up the alley, Boz halted in front of a large, covered dumpster and glanced back at her.

Nikki stared disbelievingly at him. “Please tell me you just have terrible timing, and only stopped because you thought of a real place to hide me.”

“We have to mask your scent- a scent you said they know very well by now,” he said. “This will cover it up.”

Boz threw back the lid and coughed, waving away the small swarm of flies that escaped the bin.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Nikki muttered.

“It’s our best option,” Boz said. “And only option.”

“It’ll keep you safe,” Griffin added.

Groaning, Nikki peered over the edge of the dumpster and covered her nose and mouth, already gagging from the smell. “This must be God’s way of punishing me for that time I littered in third grade.”

“It’s better than dying,” Boz told her.

“You sure about that? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure this is one of the circles of hell.”

“Alright Complaining Cathy,” Boz said, waving his hand. “Into the putrid garbage pile.”

Grimacing, Nikki gripped the metal side and hoisted herself up. Griffin helped her swing her legs over, and held her steady until she had her footing.

“Okay, now what?” She asked, staring down at the men.

“Hunker down, and wait for us to come get you,” Boz told her.

Trying not to slip in a thick puddle of brown goo, Nikki squatted amongst the plastic bags. This was definitely the most disgusting thing she’d done since high school.

Griffin paused for a beat, hand still on her arm. “Whatever you hear, whoever you think is nearby- don’t make a sound, and don’t get out until we come back for you.” His amber gaze was insistent as he searched her face. “Got it?”

She nodded. “Just be sure you come back,” she said.

His fingers unfurled from her bicep and she watched as he moved away. Boz yanked at the lid, pulling it almost shut, when she lightly gripped his arm.

“Be careful,” she said.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, and snapped the lid closed.

Jogging to catch up to Griffin, Boz made a short aggravated noise at the back of his throat. “Ah man, I just missed the perfect opportunity for an Oscar the Grouch joke.”

Griffin clapped him on the shoulder. “Next time.”

* * *

“Alright Boz, you wanna fill me in on the rest of this plan?” Griffin asked, climbing over the last rung on the ladder and planting his feet on the roof.

Boz jogged towards a stocky utility structure, circling around the left side of the edifice. “How’s your leg?”

“Seeing as I got hit by a car, just peachy,” Griffin said, watching his friend mentally calculate God-knew-what.

“So you’ll live?”

“Yeah, I’ll live,” he muttered.

“Good,” Boz turned to him and smiled. “Now give me a boost.” He jerked both his thumbs upwards enthusiastically.

Griffin’s eyebrows popped up to his hairline and he huffed out a laugh. “Excuse me? Remember the bit about me being hit by a car?”

“You said you’d live,” Boz said.

“Yeah live, not be able to do acrobatics,” he countered. “What part of this situation makes you think we should be practicing an audition for Cirque-du-Soleil?”

“Besides how awesome we’d look in sparkly leotards? If I can get up there I have a clear shot of this whole rooftop,” Boz said. “Nikki said they’re closing in. I say we let them.” He stared at Griffin intently, waiting for his message to become clear.

Boz was setting up a trap.

“Fine,” Griffin sighed.

Bending into a half squat, he laced his fingers together tightly to create a step. Grabbing his shoulders for support, Boz hopped up, stepping into his hands. With some considerable effort, Griffin hoisted him upwards. Boz might have been shorter than him, but that wasn’t saying much when Griffin stood at six foot four, and Boz was still heavily muscled. No one with eyes could call him a lightweight.

“Try not to stagger so much,” Boz muttered, working to get a firm grip on the ledge.

“Bite me,” he grumbled through clenched teeth, keeping his wounded leg as steady as he could.

“What? You cranky ‘cause you don’t get to be on top?”

“You might wanna think about cutting back on the cheeseburgers buddy,” Griffin said. “You’re heavier than last time.”

“You’re delusional,” Boz said, glancing down. “I have the body of a god.”

“Yeah… Buddha.”

Holding onto the edge as Griffin pushed, Boz was able to pull himself up and swing his legs over. He rolled over the side, securely on the roof of the small structure.

“Now what?” Griffin asked.

Boz stuck his head over the ledge, looking down at his friend. “Now go be a sitting duck.”

Griffin glared at him, offended. “I’m bait?”

“You’re the one leaking O-negative,” Boz said. “What did you think you’d be doing?”

“Not playing the part of the injured gazelle on Wild Kingdom,” Griffin snapped.

“Please, you don’t have the legs to play a gazelle.”

“Boz.”

“Dude, I’m sorry your pride is bruised, but we don’t have time for an in depth discussion about the male ego right now. So go sit over there and act mortally wounded before we both become some Vamp’s mid-morning protein boost.”

“Fine. But if this gets me killed, I’m haunting your ass.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Griffin limped towards a section of brick wall by an air vent and crouched down. His leg throbbed and he stifled a hiss, feeling the cut in his leg tear open again.

The dogs thrashed in their cage, angry at him for taking them so far away from the energy source in Nikki’s head. He was angry at himself too. Leaving her was like tightening a screw in his chest, causing so much pressure he thought his ribs would crack. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to take in a full breath until he was back with her.

Something near the ledge of the building brought the dogs’ attention around and they gave a warning snarl. Boz’s trap was working.

Reaching into his holster he pulled out one of his handguns and quietly released the safety. The pack stalked nearer, circling the area that held the strongest scent of his blood.

The first gunshot made him flinch, and he ducked as more bullets hailed down from Boz’s perch. Enraged growls and screams accompanied the fleshy plops of bodies falling.

A solid mass collided with the back of Griffin’s head, toppling him over. Sharp pain lanced up his skull as thick wetness dripped into his eyes. He squinted through blood coated lashes, but he was temporarily blinded.

Another hit rolled him over several times before the mass was attacking him from above. The Vampire- a male, he thought- wrenched his gun away and he heard it hit skid along the pea gravel. Swinging out, Griffin’s fist made contact with the creature’s temple, stunning it. Griffin blinked, trying to clear his vision. White irises glared back at him as the male reared back and lunged for his throat.

Hands like vises clasped around Griffin’s wind pipe, squeezing off his oxygen supply. He clawed the male’s arms, trying to dislodge him. As his lungs seized, the dogs tore apart their cage, fighting their way out into the world. Ripping through every barrier he’d made to keep them inside, they rampaged straight into the Vampire’s consciousness.

Jagged, blood soaked memories overwhelmed Griffin. The screams of the male’s victims, the sensations of struggling against his mouth with their flesh caught between his teeth, their taste… It ignited a boiling rage in Griffin’s gut that burned through every muscle.

His hand shot up, gripping the male under his jaw. His nails tore at the tender skin, drawing streams of blood that flowed over his bent knuckles. Crooking his thumb, he pressed into the column of the Vampire’s throat and punched a hole straight into creature’s jugular vein. The rest of his fingers soon followed suit.

The male tried to scream, but it came up as a crimson gurgle that sprayed a fine mist into the dirty air. Griffin leveraged his weight, flipping the male onto his back. Using his mangled neck as a handle, Griffin lifted the male’s head before bringing it back down again with impossible force, cracking the back of his skull. He repeated the movement again and small chunks of tissue splattered across the gravel, mixing with dust and stone.

His second Glock found its way into his hand, and the jarring blasts of gunfire deafened him. He emptied his magazine into the male’s chest cavity, waiting until his last bullet to aim for the heart. Grayish-green ooze poured out of the widening crater in the male’s torso, and ash coated the back of his throat like sulfuric chalk.

Griffin’s fingers slid out of the Vampire’s neck, so slick with blood it nauseated him. Listing to one side, he crawled away from the disintegrating body on his hands and knees, mind still reeling. Fatigue rolled through him, and his forehead scraped the ground as he leaned on his forearms. Choking down air, he waited, hoping the dogs were sated enough to come calmly back into his head. He didn’t have the energy to yank them back.

Measured footsteps came towards him and his gaze drifted upwards, catching sight of a familiar pair of boots.

Boz stooped down, his expression a tangled mix of chilled horror and concern. He made a move as if to reach for him, but decided against it.

“C’mon buddy,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Planting her stilettos on the concrete ledge, Serena crouched and narrowed her ice blue gaze, watching Griffin and his friend on the rooftop a couple buildings away. She had been following Griffin and the human bitch at a distance when that overgrown horde of a pack had cropped up, getting in her way. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the spectacle. That many Vampires sent after just two people? It was an arrogant power play, and she wished she had thought of it.

Because then she could take the credit for finding out about Nikki’s hidden talents.

Maybe she’d take the credit anyway.

The skin at the back of Serena’s neck crawled, and she closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose in irritation. Nicholas…

Slow, mocking applause sounded a few yards behind her as Nicholas strode leisurely towards her. “Now that was entertaining,” he called. “I was pleased by that little chase scene earlier, but that…” He gestured in the direction of Griffin and the other Hunter. “That was a prize fight indeed.”

Serena stood in one lithe movement and stepped down onto the graveled roof. “He bashed in the skull of one of your fledglings.”

“With his bare hands, yes, I saw,” Nicholas said, wonderment kissing the tips of his words. “I’ve seen many strong Hunters throughout my years, but never one quite like O’Connor. I’d heard stories, but that’s not really the same thing as witnessing, is it?”

Her jaw tensed, but she forced her fangs to stay retracted. “Is that why you’re here? To ogle the blood covered man candy?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Nicholas lifted one brow in question, but Serena ignored the searching intensity of his stare.

“It’s called ‘reconnaissance’, Nicholas. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Ah, yes, a preliminary survey to obtain information,” Nicholas recited. “Well then dear Serena, what information did you obtain?”

“A lot more than you or Alexander bothered telling me last night,” she said, glaring at him.

“We told you she was important.”

“But not that she could move faster than a Vampire,” Serena snapped. “Or the fascinating detail of how her eyes somehow turn into glow sticks.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t aware of those facts myself until just now.” Nicholas walked to the ledge and stuck the toe of his right shoe out, wiggling it in the open air where solid ground became nothingness. “Not until the pack I sent started chasing her.”

Serena folded her arms over her chest. “Yes, let’s talk about your pack,” she said with a biting tone. “If I remember correctly, Alexander gave me the job of dealing with O’Connor and the girl.”

“Mm,” Nicholas agreed, as he stuck out his opposite hand, performing a balancing act on the very edge of the building.

“I am your Bloodletter, Nicholas,” Serena ground out.

“Yes, my pit bull in Chanel,” he mused, hoping onto his left foot and twisting so his back was towards the empty expanse. “And what has my loyal attack dog done today? Made a scary phone call?”

A feline growl rippled through Serena’s chest. She wondered if she could be fast enough to sprint over and shove him off the roof, but realized she probably couldn’t. She was in stilettos after all.

“You want praise?” Nicholas asked, shimmying the majority of his shoe off the ledge, leaving only the ball of his foot to support him. “You want me to give you a pat on the head, and tell you ‘good girl’? Then do something worth rewarding.”

“I told you I’d do this my way,” she said.

“And so far your way has been more boring than a nature documentary,” he said, flashing a snide grin.

“And you overstepped your bounds,” Serena shouted. “Really Nicholas, you sent a mob of Newborns after them? And what good did that accomplish? They were all turned to ash.”

He scoffed. “I hardly think twenty Vampires equals a mob.”

“It was twenty-five,” she corrected, and enjoyed watching him mentally recalculate the numbers.

“Oh,” he said. “Well no matter. They served their purpose.”

“I’m sure Alexander will be thrilled to hear how deeply you care for all of your aligned,” she said, sneering.

“Please, as if he’s any better.”

“I don’t recall our sire sending any of his fledglings to their deaths.”

“Not yet,” Nicholas said, growing bored with his trick and jumping back onto the solid roof. “All that talk of empires and reputations, and you don’t think he’s willing to throw a few of his own on to the sacrificial pyre?”

Creeping suspicion traveled up from the base of Serena’s spine, and she scowled.

Nicholas pointed at her, making an insightful ‘ah’ noise. “You know I’m right. As much good as Alexander has done for us, he isn’t above scrutiny.”

She narrowed her gaze as she watched him. “If you don’t trust him, then why do you listen to him?”

“I didn’t say I don’t trust him,” Nicholas said. “I’m just not under any illusions.”

“I think you’re doubting your decision to share your Alpha-hood,” Serena said. “You were happy to accept Alexander’s help when you first became Manhattan’s Alpha, but now that he’s beginning to put in the ground work of your shiny new empire, you’re getting greedy again. What’s the matter Nicholas? Don’t want to share your corner of the sandbox?”

His grin turned tight and bitter, and his stare was cold. “Pitbull is a good nickname for you,” he said. “You certainly are a bitch.”

Serena laughed at his attempt to goad her. She wore the title of ‘bitch’ with pride.

Turning her back on him, she started walking away.

“Where are you going?” He called after her.

Tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, she called, “To do my job.”

[doflamingowo]

CHANGE LATER

The wind had picked up, now it whipped my hair into my face.

“What now?” Kyle asked beside me as we came out of the mass of rock that had moved to let us enter the cave holding an ancient temple and inside of that the glittering purple rock that we had set off to collect for our friend, Doctor G, who turned out to want the the stone for himself, telling us that his brother was evil and wanted the rock to power a machine of mass destruction.

“I don’t know.” I said glumly. I didn’t have the slightest clue what we should do.

“Surely you know?” Justin added.

“We have to do something! And without Doctor G on our side you have to step up and be the leader!” Kyle said after a few seconds of silence had passed.

“There are no sides!” I said angrily, “Doctor G has always been my friend…” I trailed off, not sure what I was going to say next.

“So you’re with him?” Justin asked with horror and awe in his voice. I suppressed a shiver.

“No! I just can’t be any sort of leader.” I said the last few words in a whisper of anguish.

“You’ve got way more experience with it than either of us.” Kyle pointed out, “Even if Doctor G was of charge you were like his right hand man, or...woman?” I was about to disagree with him when a recognizable voice broke into our conversation.

“What are you idiots bickering about now?” I looked up to see the smug face of Luckus glaring down at us from on top of the large rock that had split open to reveal the underground jungle. His shaggy blond hair flopped into his face, covering his blue eyes. He blew up to remove the bothersome hairs but they swung back into his face after every feeble attempt.  “Honestly, first you lead my brother here, then you pests sit here rambling like children! What are you on about?” Me, Justin, and Kyle exchanged a glance, and through it I told them we could trust Luckus.

“We’re trying to fix this problem, unlike you just sitting there criticizing us.” I said, trying to sound sure of myself. Luckus let his face go limp in an expression clearly unimpressed with me and my friends.

“Like you’re doing something helpful!” Kyle backed me up. I was going to do something to thank him but Luckus interrupted the rude way he seemed to behave twentyfour-seven.

“Ha! I’m going to test this dumb rock to see why my dumber brother wants it!” He said very loudly, loud enough that it sounded like he was boasting about how helpful he was being. I thought about asking if he wanted an award or something, but I thought better of it before I blurted out the sentence. We were wasting time arguing.

“Could we help then?” I asked politely. Kyle and Justin looked shocked, but Luckus especially didn’t seem to expect me to say something like that.

“Well,” Luckus jumped off of the rock and landed with a thump in front of me, then stood up. I hadn’t seen him so close up or standing at all. He was taller than me, which most men were, but he was probably even taller than Doctor G, who might as well be qualified as a giraffe. Then again I thought just about anything was tall due to my own lack of height. Luckes loomed in front of me now and actually leaned over a bit to seem more intimidating than ever. “Do you think I need any help you fools can provide me?” He snarled as if he were some sort of dog. I was taken back by his sudden hostility, so far he was very sarcastic but never so threatening.

“Back off.” Justin thrust himself in between me and Luckus, “If we’re not working together then you should probably leave.” he added. Luckus straightened up again, “Who ever said we were not working together?” he said innocently. I was confused and now wondering if I had the right to be angry at him. I motioned for Justin to back down, who, uneasily stepped aside.

“If we’re working together than we need to establish some ground rules.” I said, “One, nobody is ‘of control’, we’re all equal here. Two,” I added before Luckus, who I could tell was itching to interrupt me, could, “we work together, no slacking off or taking everything for yourself. And three, the most important rule, absolutely no making fun of my height.” I hated it when people did that.

“Okay, I’ll follow your ‘rules’ shorty.” Luckus immediately said. The words sunk in and stung more strongly than they ever had. Kyle bent over to whisper of my ear, “Are you sure about this?”

“Posotive.”

 Before we knew it we were going through shiny grey metal doors that slid open as we neared. Luckus was leading us into his laboratory, which reminded me of Doctor G who also had a work space similar, which then reminded me of the story of him stealing his brother’s dream of being a world renowned scientist. He must not have been lying about that part. I thought. We entered into a large shiny room, its ceiling was very high up and desks lined with draws and cluttered with blueprints, protractors, and other various contraptions I couldn’t name because I was pretty sure Luckus had made the spindly metal robots were crowding the ground.

“Did you make all this?” Kyle asked. Luckus didn’t answer, he seemed distracted by the familiar surroundings. While we were walking past one of the long twisting desks he reached over to it and took a small box with buttons off. Luckus absent mindedly walked over to hoop of metal and wires. We followed him over.

“This is it.” He said quietly. Luckus was holding the purple geode the entire time we had seen him, he placed the gem on a control panel with a pocket shaped out just large enough to fit the orange sized stone of. Sparks of color popped off of the rigid rock and it somehow lost some of it’s shape turning into a gleaming smooth crystal.

“How-” I stopped as blue spiraled from the ring of metal. It came in several shades and met in the center creating a large round disk big enough for someone to walk through. “What’s happening?” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“This is a portal to a different realm, the realm of demons. If there’s one place my brother would want to go, it would be here.” Luckus said sternly.

“Now people have gone crazy!” Kyle abruptly shouted. Before he had questioned the sanity of me and Doctor G when he brought up the temple underground, but now Kyle seemed furious. “Nothing makes sense anymore! This must be some messed up dream!” Justin snorted and turned to Kyle.

“Can you have faith in anybody other than yourself for once? I’m sick of running your mouth saying everybody is crazy but you!” I was surprised to hear Justin snap at Kyle, sometimes he’d tell him off but he rarely sounded so irritated.

“You people argue about the stupidest of things.” Luckus murmured, and then raised his voice to be more audible, “I need to know what’s in the demon realm that my brother wants and you two are wasting time.” At this point I was feeling quite useless.

“Can we just go into this realm thing and be done with it?” I asked quietly. Kyle, Justin, and Luckus all snapped their heads around to look at me.

“The short girl is right,” Luckus sneered, knowing I hated being called short by stupidly tall people, “We have to stop fighting and get what needs to be done done.” Though annoyed by the rude comment about being short I was pleased that Luckus had agreed with me for once. “All we have to do is walk through the portal-”

“You mean the swirly blue thing?” Justin interrupted.

“-what? Yes, the swirly blue thing.” Luckus answered the question, “We walk through the swirly blue thing and then we will appear of the realm of demons on the other side.” he finished.  Kyle seemed to be willing to participate but he didn’t seem too thrilled to do so. As long as we were working together, I thought, we would be okay. We all silently approached the shining blue spiral with caution. It glimmered and sparkled as Kyle touched the silhouette.

“We’re have to be ready for anything that could be on the other side of that portal. Remember, this is the realm of demons, not the realm of pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows.” Under the situations no one laughed at the humorous reminder. “Alright.” Luckus said and then vanished into the blue disk of light. Kyle and Justin seemed to be just as shocked as I was that he didn’t emerge smacking his face into the wall on the other side. We all followed suit, first Kyle was swallowed whole by the portal, followed by Justin. I clamped my hands into tight fists. This was it, this is what had been built up and up from the start of this journey. I took all my strength and moved my foot in a small step towards the glossy blue mirror of light that shot from the portal. A few seconds and I was standing on the other side of the portal, what I saw was hellish. I was in some sort of massive cavity in the center of the Earth, it was so hot i wanted to take off my coat, but I didn’t dare for fear of losing it or it being burned in the molten orange lava that seemed to cover the entire ground what I guessed would be several feet under the lava. The walls were made of sloped and spiraling blood red stone that seemed to have some sort of red moss growing on it. Stalagmites and and towering stalactites rose from the ground and seeped from the ceiling, also made of the mossy red stone. The ground was soft, most likely due to the nature of the moss. Through a gaping hole in the shallow cave I had appeared in I could see mountainous cities made of very dark red brick, they rose straight up from the gurgling lava.

“What? Where?” Kyle stumbled over his words while Justin was gulping of breaths of hot sticky air. I simply marveled at everything there was to see.

“We won't blend of well here, we’ll stick out like a sore thumb and demons, devils, and catsinsitras aren’t the kindest of living creatures.” Luckus remarked before he pulled four small vials of purple liquid from his pocket. He held each of them out and I, Kyle, and Justin all took one. “Drink them and we’ll fit right in.” Luckus explained.

“What’s a catsinsitra?” Kyle whispered under his breath.

“What will this do?” Justin questioned.

“It’ll help us blend of.” Luckus said simply before uncapping his own vial and quickly drinking the contents. I couldn’t see much happen so I uncapped my vial and drank it as well. Justin did the same and Kyle did too rather reluctantly. We stood of silence for a few seconds.

“Well, that did a lot-” Kyle was silenced as his attention was snatched by Luckus who somehow was looking at us with a completely different eye of place of his left. It was engulfed with black but a grey upside down heart seemed to glow menacingly of the center like a pupil, it shot this way and that with his regular eye.

“What happened to your eye?!” I tried to tell him what had happened but that was all I could blurt out.

“Yours too!” Kyle screamed in the most not-manly way I had ever heard. He reminded my of a dog’s squeaky toy then. He was looking at my like I just sprouted wings, which I had most certainly not. Then I shook with a jolt as Kyle’s left eye was swallowed by black and an upside down heart appeared as the pupil. What had Luckus poisoned us with? Justin’s eye had also changed of and inhuman way. Kyle turned around sharply to glare at Luckus.

“What did you do to us?!” His voice shook as he spat out the words, most likely more in fear then anger. Luckus looked at him the way he had earlier, a doubtful glum look.

“What do you think, idiot?” he said as if it was so obvious that a five-year-old could guess what he had done, “This is our disguise. Now we will all be mistaken as catsinsitras.” he answered his rhetorical question.

“What is a catsinsitra?” Kyle repeated his previously asked question but with an undertone of anger hidden in his voice by the easily noticed confusion and fear. Luckus looked us up and down. “I’ll tell you if you’ll believe me.” He said.

“I will.” Kyle said with an exasperated sigh.

“Catsinsitras are parasites. They crawl in the body of a host through the eye and the socket leftover appears black with a small grey heart as the pupil. They feed on the life energy of the host while having complete control of the host’s body and mind. They can’t feel emotions and are very intelligent. They resemble a pencil bag sized octopus fit with a large opening on the mass of the body that has teeth and one glowing eye.” Luckus paused, “Is that good enough of and explanation?” he asked.

“Yes.” Kyle said, his eyes looked dull like nothing was worth questioning anymore, and anything was possible, which was most likely the truth at this point.

Justin rested a hand on Kyle's shoulder and we set off following Luckus out of the opening of the blood-red cave.

“Are we going to that city?” Justin asked calmly. He always amazed me the way he could stay so restrained and placid in the most confusing of times even when Kyle was freaking out the way he tended to.

“Yes. I’m still not sure exactly what my brother wants, but it’s probably one of the many artifacts held of this realm.” Luckus said.

“What would these artifacts do?” Justin followed up his first question. Luckus paused for a moment to think.

“Well, the Gauntlet Of Riyoons has the power to steal any happiness and will to do something from any living creature and give it to yourself, but that’s much too weak for him. My guess is he wants the Glove Of Koszmar.” Luckus let the words flood out of his mouth so fast it was hard to tell what he said before another word came streaming out.

“What does the Glove Of Koszmar do?” I asked, curious to know what my old friend wanted with a glove.

“It has the power to manipulate people’s dreams.” Luckus answered me quickly.

“That Gauntlet Of Riyoons sounds a lot more powerful than the Glove Of Kosmar thing.” Kyle muttered under his breath spitefully.

“It’s not. The Glove Of Koszmar can manipulate and twist your dreams so much it could mutilate your mind, give you thoughts that might not be yours, or drive a person to extreme measures to escape terrible nightmares. That’s what Koszmar means, nightmare.” Luckus  seemed distant now, “If he get’s the glove then he could change anybody’s thoughts, anybody he sees as an enemy…” Luckus trailed off. We walked in silence for awhile, reaching the edge of the mountainous city and walking onto its red brick bridges crossing over the lava pits below.  I didn’t know where we were going but we all followed Luckus, hoping he knew where we had to go. He suddenly led us into one of the brick buildings.

“Where are we?” Kyle blurted.

“Oh, just a friend’s place.” Luckus said simply.

“You have friends here?”

“Of course. How do you think I have all this knowledge of the demon realm?”  Luckus had a point, so far we all had just assumed that somehow Luckus had found out things about a place he probably had gone to too often. When we were all in I had the sudden realisation that he had taken us into some sort of bar. All the walls, tables, chairs, and even the light fixtures were made out of the blood-red brick and smoother variations of it. Behind the red counter and odd looking thing, which I assumed was a person stood. As soon as a small golden bell attached to the door rang as we walked in the creature turned around. It was a pale blue color with rough looking skin. A streak of white covered most of it’s face and a puff of blond hair sat on it’s head, it didn’t have any ears I could see and it’s eyes were big and dark. It saw Luckus and smiled, it’s large white teeth were pointed like blades. It put down a glass it was polishing and spoke of a feminine voice.

“Luckus! Long time no see.” It said happily.

“So true. How have you been Layla?” Luckus replied as if he was talking to a family member that hadn’t been around for months. Layla let their grin slip away into a small polite smile.

“I’m hoping your eye is like that because of experimental reasons?”  They asked warily. I remembered what Luckus had said about catsinsitras and our disguise.

“Ahh, yes, this.” Luckus lifted his hand to his eye, “ Yes. This is to fit in. I’ve given it to my partners here too.” Layla looked as us as if they hadn't seen us walk of with Luckus. They seemed to judge us as they glanced at our different appearance from the fish-like creature.

“So what is she?” Kyle whispered to Luckus loud enough for everybody to hear.

“D-did you just assume my gender?” Layla seemed heart-broken and angry at the same time, “Honestly, just because I don’t do stupid sports like lava swimming doesn’t mean I’m a girl.” Layla looked as if they were going to cry.

“So you’re a boy?” Kyle said quickly as to not let the thing get more distressed.

“Does it matter to you people? You wouldn’t care anyway. Luckus, what do you and your rude friends want?” Layla turned back to Luckus to ignore Kyle.

“Well…” Luckus started, “We need The Glove Of Koszmar.” he said.

“Just leave now.” Layla responded and I suddenly felt like we had failed already.

“Why? Layla, you’re being ridiculous!” Luckus said fast of response to the sudden hostility. Layla’s eyes darkened.

“The new king is cruel. He had all the possessions the demons were proud of removed and sent to his castle for storage. Both the Gauntlet Of Riyoons and the Glove Of Koszmar taken to his castle. He’s not letting anyone near them because he says they’re dangerous.” Layla seemed sad at the memories.

“We’re going to get it anyway.” Luckus declared.