Marvel: Unlikely Alliance

The two men continued to converse, their sarcastic, scathing, gentlemanly banter with each other only ceasing when one paused to take a sip of whatever liquid was contained in the small glasses held by each of them. Surrounding the men were other small groups of individuals quietly engaged with each other, all dressed in the same period-style clothing. Steadily, the level of the liquid dropped, giving a countdown to the young man's mission.

Before he could finish his drink, a strange expression rippled across Wyngarde's sarcastic features. A smile slowly slipped into place as his eyes met his companion's.

"If you'll excuse me…our Queen beckons."

The other man's dark eyes widened slightly as he watched Wyngarde slip from the room, his astonished expression quickly turning to something much more sinister.

++++

She cried out, tears of frustration and anger stinging her eyes, their frozen trails leaving burning trails on her cheeks. Her hands scrabbled at the sky, grasping the empty air for anything that would help her escape the cold that weighed her down. Her wings were gone now, useless and heavy with ice. Her mouth was open as howls of rage tore from her throat. Even as she clawed at the sky the snow built around her, the heat inside her that fought against it only helping it melt and turn to ice. Her legs were already trapped, pinning her to the ground. Something inside her urged her to keep the fire smoldering, to not let it wane…but as the frost engulfed her, prickling and stinging and cutting…she felt the fire begin to gutter. It was more painful than anything, a deep loss that made her heart ache and her throat tighten. She felt a great emptiness smother the fire, stealing away even the embers and all hope of it ever returning to what it once was. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as the howls of rage twisted into a wail of despair. Her thin frame was wracked by sobs as true tears began to flow. The tears lost their sting as the ice lost its chill but continued its climb upward.

Her vision began to grow dark as she felt the ice traveling up her waist, her torso and finally to her arms and throat. One hand still reached upward, her eyes focused on escape even as her vision began to fail.

The scrabbling of her fingers began to slow and stiffen, her lids drifting shut…

…when another hand grasped her own.

"My Queen…" the voice was soft and warm, full of adoration. "…I've finally found you."

++++

The crowd continued to murmur and shift as he waited. It was all he could do now. It wasn't something he liked to do or was something he was used to…but it was necessary. A slow inhale and sigh rumbled from his throat as the large man threw back the remains in his glass and set it aside. With a confident stride he took his place at the head of the room, his sudden movements earning the gaze of everyone in attendance.

A wide smile crinkled his grizzled face as he splayed his hand outward before sweeping one toward the large double doors behind him.

"As sure I am that your patience in waiting for the arrival of our new Queen matches my own…the hour has come to my attention and I have been informed that her arrival grows near. The gracious hostess that she is, the Queen begs that you…enjoy."

The doors swung open smoothly, revealing a grand banquet hall with servants lining the walls, waiting to answer their every need.

In a distant, darkened corner of the room a young man bearing bottles of wine stepped in unnoticed just as the guests began to file in and take their seats.

After a few moments, the hall was full of the sounds and smells of feast and celebration with the large grizzly man seated at the head of the table, an empty seat next to him. Standing next to the young man were other servants bearing bottles of wine. Each one seemed to be paired with a specific course. He appeared to be last.
 
Seen but not heard appeared to be the mantra of these servants, so to blend in he behaved just as the others did and kept quiet. Just for a little while longer would he have to bide his time and hold back the emotions building up inside. Appearances alone were not enough to get the job done. Even with his disguise made so complete thanks to the Symbiote's otherworldly powers, it meant nothing if he started fights all across the estate or jumped from wall to wall in plain sight. Right now everyone would be searching for him if he had battled his way in without any real plan of infiltration. Choosing stealth had proven wise for such a young man, since not a soul in the mansion knew what he truly was or his true purpose.

Time for the grand feast had fallen upon this large mansion house.

Rich smells wafted through the room that flowed from the courses with their lids removed. All of them assaulted his senses and reminded the young man it had been a few days since his last decent meal. Everything laid out for these privileged people made his mouth water. Meats more expensive than anything the host had ever devoured cooked to perfection adorned each sterling silver plate. Vegetables steamed, seared, or even sauteed with special sauces sat on plates next to the choice cuts of meat. Goblets made from pure sterling silver would hold the special wine that resided within bottles that the host held in each hand. None of the guests had to reach for their 'helpings' as each one was placed before them by a silent servant.

Even now the young man with a pale mane made up of little white lies stood with a solemn expression that betrayed nothing of his true intentions. Not a single sound escaped him for fear of attracting unwanted attention. Others would mistake it as respect meant for the mansion's masters and their guests but in truth he was mentally preparing himself for what would come. After all why would he respect those who would kidnap an Angel? Soon enough the moment would arrive for him to act and rescue the girl he believed an angel from these strange people.

Just why would they kidnap an Angel anyway? Are they some sort of crazy cult? Are they going to worship her or maybe try to sacrifice her? They talked about her like a Queen as though she would rule over them. But I don't get it. Why KIDNAP the one who would have power over you?

Maybe they're Scientologists?

If that were true they'd worship YOU before they'd ever kidnap an Angel. They have a thing for aliens.

Then what are all these rich people in old clothes about exactly?

These guys. . . I'm not so sure about. Other than the whole royalty thing. I wonder if they have a KING somewhere. . .

Minutes passed as the guests gorged themselves ever so politely, the young man playing his part without error. Once every minute his eyes glanced over to where Shaw sat at the head of the table and then to the empty seat. He guessed from where the burly man sat at the head of the table that this was the man in charge. Sheer hope kept him from frantically searching the mansion and allowed him to keep believing she would appear at the dinner table.
 
To the host it was more than likely that the opulent affair was beginning to drag on longer than necessary, or at least as though time and interest had slowed to a crawl. The feast was nothing close to any kind of revelry or any true celebration in a normal sense, although they all seemed to be eagerly awaiting the arrival of their so-called "Queen." Whoever She was meant to be though seemed to have no problem with making others wait. . .

+ + + +

Time passed...

Battles were waged and won – a fragile trust was forged.

Time passed…

Foes were vanquished – wounds were taken & loyalty proven.

Time passed…

Love blossomed - a possessive thing with sharp kisses & sharper claws.

It was He who had pulled her from the depths of agony and despair and it was He who fought beside her when no one else would and at the very last, it was He who had placed the crown upon her head and a kiss on her lips. Together they emerged at last from the fire. She could feel herself changed. The ache within her was no ragged thing with claws that snagged on every hurt…now it was something cleaner…something harder, purer, fiercer. Her wrath, her vengeance would be Absolute.

+ + + +

Although the courses continued, they were small dainty things full of flavor but little substance. With each course the wine flowed freely. Slowly, but ever so surely the conversation in the room grew in volume and the participants more animated. A glow dusted their cheeks and their eyes were glassy and bright. The man at the head of the table smiled as he watched them, the lip of his first and only glass of wine resting thoughtfully on his thin lips. His gaze was as deep as it was dark, his secret smile deepening as a shadow seemed to pass over his face.

After the most recent course was set in place and glasses were cleared away and replaced with a new tiny goblet the man leaned forward, tapping a utensil against the small crystal goblet before him, the most recent cup that he had finally found himself looking forward to. He continued the tapping for only a brief moment longer before rising to his feet. The hush that swept over the banquet hall was a stuttered, drunken one that he couldn't really hold against them. His smile only deepened as he swept an arm out.

"At long last may I present…the Black Queen."

The hush that had fallen over them was absolute now as every face turned toward the large double doors behind Shaw that had slowly swung open. As he remained in the line of queue of servants the host's point of view was as good as it was going to get. He was practically in line with the man at the head of the table and albeit being far away, at least he would get the whole picture instead of only a glimpse. If attending the banquet had been his own mind-numbing punishment…here was the prize he had been working toward all night long.

The doors slowly swung open, the dark wood glinting in the candlelight. The sound of slow but steady footsteps clicking across a marble floor steadily grew nearer. No one moved as even the air in the room seemed to change, as though something in the atmosphere had been awoken. Something free and primal…

It was then that she entered. Someone among the table softly gasped, another let out an aching sigh. Nothing interrupted her as she moved forward, her stride fluid and full of grace, though something lurked behind it. Something dangerous…something predatory.

The cape that was meant to cover her was thrown back and billowed behind her, only the hood remaining drawn and casting her face in shadow. The rest of her was on display as she strode forward unashamedly, head tilted back and shoulders proudly straight. The black leather, silver buckles and filigree of her ensemble glinting sharply in contrast to her exposed skin. Unlike many of those in attendance who were laced and covered to the hilt and the soft, sickly pale of those unaccustomed to hard work or sunshine, she was a stark contrast of skin that was kissed by the sun, her body a testament of someone who took matters into their own hands and had tasted the rigors of labor and forsworn the soft life of having every need pacified.

At the very last, she came to a slow stop next to Shaw, her hips cocked at a slight angle as she stood mutely before them, allowing them all to gaze upon her. She allowed their long looks. She demanded their gazes be brought to her, just as she would soon demand a test of their loyalty.
 
For the Host and his Symbiote their time spent in false servitude to these pampered people felt akin to a day spent sitting through highschool while possessing superpowers. Virtually endless amounts of temptation to use extraordinary abilities on teachers or even fellow students. Time wasted in the pursuit of a goal that required much patience. Logic had to win out over the impulse to act with haste. Revealing his true intentions would deny him a chance to even see the angel again without fighting through an entire battalion of men first. Deception made getting close to his goal much simpler once the manse had been infiltrated with relative ease. Although sentient, living clothes often rendered disguises effortless to achieve.

You know I just realized that with all the wine these people are sucking down. . . most of them won't be in a position to do anything once we make our move.

Let me take this time to remind you, Trevor, that I am ALL FOR any fights that result during our rescue.

Believe me I know.

Both of them had no clue what the young woman had gone through since her arrival. A considerable disadvantage given the bond Wyngarde had just forged with her in less than a night. Only the truth had a chance of breaking the spell. Except that the Host lacked a full understanding of the entire truth. For in this dining room of fine food and refreshments he knew the name of no one. Not even the name of she whom he hoped to rescue from the clutches of this strange club. Were it not for the Symbiote he would be alone in this situation and the odds against him succeeding would multiply. Surprise rested on his side so long as they did not realize what the Symbiote was. . . thus lowering the chances of their weaknesses being employed.

Classical music filled the air as if taking a cue from Shaw while his arm moved in such a grand sweep in accordance with his announcement. Violins filled the air with their elegant sounds while accompanied by divine piano playing that set the mood appropriate for a Queen. Emotions swept through the young man in rapid succession as the majesty of the moment overwhelmed even he, the one on a mission to ruin such an important night. Of course the Symbiote experienced every moment with him as well and found itself soothed by the music.

Both of them watched her simultaneously through the same pair of eyes as they fulfilled the demand of their combined gaze. Defiance of such a royal decree was beyond their power in these moments as mere commoners in the presence of regal grace. Silent as he stood there with the bottles of wine in each hand, mesmerized by the way this sun-kissed Queen carried herself in front of the rest of her subjects, he nearly forgot his main objective. Part of him dreamed while still awake of dancing with her to the sweet music which only kept the entire room enthralled even more. Yet soon enough he broke free of the spell while his Symbiote's thirst for adrenaline-fueled action remained quelled by the classical music.

Yet he could feel the moment of truth approaching with every step she took closer to the table. Awe turned anxious anticipation which then transmuted into adrenaline that at last shook the living costume out of the sensory torpor. Now it twisted with eagerness in his gut, a million little alien worms writhing in a way that told him to act. Begged him to lash out against opponents with abilities unknown without fear. Feeling his patience corrode with every passing moment he moved with purpose toward the table and out of the shadows once the Queen had taken her rightful seat. Little more than a few feet rested between him and the prize he had coveted for less than a fortnight.

Setting one bottle down in the place he had seen other servants set their extra bottles, he approached Shaw and presented him the remaining bottle humbly. His eyes dared to capture extended glances at the new Queen of the inner circle. Not just of her position in the room. . . but of her undeniable beauty as well. Captivated? Oh yes the Host could not deny an affinity for what he considered divinity incarnate standing right before his eyes. Yet that was not all he had done while Shaw inspected the rather important bottle. From his patient observing earlier he had given himself a near perfect mental map of where all in the room stood along with the Symbiote absorbing all the mannerisms the servants used to perform their tasks.

Cautious as ever, once he received the bottle back he opened it with ease unbeffitting of a false servant. Yet it came simple enough when he allowed his body to go on autopilot and allowed his 'partner' to guide him through every hurdle. First, before any objections could even be imagined, he started to pour for the young woman. All eyes were on him right now. No mistakes could be made in his execution lest he bring attention to himself at the wrong time. Both of his eyes flickered orange for but the briefest of moments while gazing upon her once more. Once finished with her he moved on to pour for Shaw and Wyngarde in a much faster fashion. Every moment he tried to watch for patterns that would leave him the perfect opening to take the Angel far away from the captors which he felt had brainwashed her in some way given the fight she had put up back at the shipping yard. Soon enough each of them had their glasses full of fine wine and he took his dutiful place at their side as the night resumed without a hitch.

Until he chose his moment to strike during their. . . chit-chat.
 
No one took any particular notice of the servant chosen to pour for the inner circle of the Hellfire Club, except for, it seemed, Shaw. The man's gaze was dark and knowing, as though he had a clear view to the very bottom of Trevor's soul….though more than likely it was the same gaze he gave to everyone. Perhaps that same gaze was the first step in Shaw's approach to making everyone around him begin their eventual journey to shivering in fear at his mere presence.

The Host's barely bridled adrenaline was likely palpable as he fought with anxiousness and anticipation. Perhaps all of those feelings would be increased as he poured for the Queen. No one could be sure of what thoughts ran through her mind or even what emotions lay hidden in the shadows of her cowl. As the young man poured her drink, the proud height that she held her head at seemed to twitch a moment before she turned ever so slightly toward the young man, acknowledging his presence. Wyngarde squirmed ever so slightly in his seat, a brief look of confusion creasing his brow before his own attention returned to the scene before him.

In due time, the man was standing with his glass raised to the enraptured crowd in front of him. He smiled as he spoke in place of the veiled woman who stood beside him. "With her arrival she ushers in a new age, not only for you but for the entire Hellfire Club. Although she begs your forgiveness for being so forward, each of you are aware of how important it is to act with haste when it involves something as important as this. With that, Your Queen has informed me of her first humble request of you." Many of those seated leaned forward with barely concealed eagerness to perform whatever task was at hand. They gazed at her, eyes wide and expecting. A servant stood behind each of them, heads bowed as they seemed to dwell on their own burdens.

"Your Queen has a plea to make. She implores you…She begs you. Please,"

A fine, lace gloved hand raised the fine glass filled with garnet liquid, her subjects echoing her gesture as they waited. After a heartbeat, full lips parted and a low, husky voice sighed out the first and last order to each and every one seated.

"Die."

The servants standing behind each seated individual took a singular step forward and leaned in, each drawing something thin and gleaming from the folds of their clothing. With an equally fluid motion they drew it across the throats of those seated. Deep scarlet and crimson liquid spilled as fine crystal cups were dropped and dreams of greatness were shattered.

The expressions of each of the Inner Circle held something different as they watched the grisly scene unfold before them. Some looked on with well-concealed fear and trepidation while others seemed to bask in the glory at a display of such power. Others only looked on with the satisfaction of having finally gotten rid of an annoying burden. All dealt with the scene in their own way as the one who had ordered it all stood silent vigil over the gurling, gasping, writhing mass before her. It was a gruesome, messy scene. The murdering servants had taken a step back, each loosening their plain aprons as sigils of the Hellfire Club were revealed in one way or another. A new age had truly dawned, brought about by the hands of those who would wield the power next. They looked away from the stilling bodies that lay slumped in their chairs and against the table and turned their attentions to their Queen, awaiting some kind of acknowledgment of their loyalty, some kind of blessing. They were eager for her, hungry for what gifts she might have for them. They waited and watched and wanted....only to be given the most blunt dismissal possible. Slowly she turned away from the nightmarish scene and looked directly at another. A different, unfamiliar servant. A stranger in their midst.

In a sudden, infinitely smooth move The Queen stood before Trevor, the speed of her approach causing her hood to be drawn back by the breeze. Her face was mere inches from his, her lips close enough for a kiss, a warm breath sighing past her parted lips. As fitting a bird of prey, her eyes were focused solely on him and his, capturing his gaze. They were golden with flecks of something darker glinting in their depths like a pair of twin sun, a mixture of the potential to be a source of beauty and warmth though the threat of being blinded and scorched was inescapable.

As she remained now, nearly every part of her seemed flecked with gold. Her eyes, her hair, even the bare skin on her face and body seemed to have a delicate glimmer to it, adding to the hypnotic qualities of her movements.

Slowly her left hand raised and reached out, her fingers curling as she gathered a handful of the young man's jacket and shirt, using it as an anchor to pull him closer to her. The potential of a kiss seemed unavoidable, perhaps intentional, but once more she stopped. Now, not only were their lips nearly touching, hovering just on the verge of brushing against one another…but their bodies were as well. Her height augmented by the heels she was now wearing, certain points on her body were now nearly evenly matched with Trevor's. Retaining the slow sway of a person eager to keep moving and the modicum of scant space between them, her hips were jutted forward ever so slightly, mere moments away from pressing into his. What may at first have appeared to be an invitation to dance…quickly took on the appearance of an invitation to something more.

Still though, the fingers gathering the clothing at his chest remained the only point of contact for them as she slowly swayed in front of him. Her piercing gaze remained locked with his as she slowly moved her head to the side, her body sliding ever so slowly downward as her knees bent slightly….

Her lips left their ever-so-close spot near his as they made an in-more-ways-than-one agonizingly slow path along his jaw to his throat and finally ending at the crook of his neck, her soft, warm breath caressing his skin remaining a constant reminder that the young man wasn't just having some kind of delusion. Once she reached that delicate spot her gaze left his as her eyes drifted closed, thick lashes finally bringing the two suns to rein. She remained there for more than a few moments as though silently dwelling on something puzzling before her eyes snapped open and she drew back from him.

Wyngarde's face grew pale and drawn, a sheen of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.

Their bodies remained somewhat close but the young woman had drawn back as if to take in her first ever look at his face. Her eyes flicked from point to point on his features before they settled on his eyes once more. The look on her face was one of almost pained innocence, a desperate unspoken question causing her brows to wrinkle ever so slightly as she silently pleaded with Trevor for an answer to the affront he had just given her.

Slowly, as though with sadness, her slender fingers untangled themselves from his clothing. Although instead of leaving entirely, her hand now slid down from the center of his collarbone in a slow path to the center of his chest. Her pained gaze remained on him still as she moved with a speed exceeding human reaction as her hand drew back and her fingers curled into a fist before it slammed into the spot just beneath his ribcage.

Wyngarde cried out and stood up suddenly, knocking his chair backwards. Amid the sudden explosion of confusion, Shaw shouted.

As he doubled over, her fingers grasped a large handful of his clothing, fingertips pressing with bruising intensity against his skin like talons as she flung him upward toward the large skylights above. The luxurious cloak that hung around her shoulders now dropped to the ground at her feet in a puddle as golden wings flared and she was on him, her momentum hurling them upward and through the skylights, raining shards of glass on those down below. Beneath them, Shaw could be heard shouting and Wyngarde could be seen lying prone on the floor, unconscious. Now, it was only the two of them.

City lights twinkled far below as her powerful wings flared out, violently hurling them skyward as she drew back her fist for another blow.
 
Every moment that passed while he waited for the time to strike was spent on a single agonizing thought. Shaw would see just by looking into that pair of plain brown eyes that this servant was fixated on the new Queen that Wyngarde had brought into the Hellfire Club tonight. Though in all likelihood he brushed it off as a commoner unable to resist falling under the awe-inspiring presence of royalty so close. Little did even the great Black King understand just how dangerous this simple servant actually was to their plans just through his presence alone. Even the intruder himself did not fathom the great impact of his own existence on the radiant beauty seated so close to him. Yet despite all this the dinner kept on moving smoothly for a while as the Host remained consumed in thought while his body struggled to stay still. One could find themselves amazed beyond belief that despite the overwhelming complexity and delicate nature of a situation, that a young man could be so fixated on such a common thought:

How to talk to a woman.

But his train of thought completely derailed when he heard a simple word uttered from her luscious lips that served as no less than a kiss of death. Never had he expected such a thing from her in a million years. . . his expectations for one he thought an Angel were shattered and his faith shaken. Even if they were strangers to one another that had never shared more than a glance at one another it failed to soften the blow. Did his God believe that one who had come to host such a demonic-looking creature and embraced it deserved nothing less than angel of blood and death? Shock etched itself onto his face with such a resonance of revulsion that one might think it would stay there for eternity. But in the back of his mind a voice spoke with joy as it reveled in the carnage. A voice not his own, not of the human host. . . but of the Symbiote that had been so starved as it fed off the adrenaline pumping without restraint. To the living costume it was as though it had committed the act itself.

And then his heart managed to beat even faster.

For within seconds she was upon him in the way that fire rushed across water covered in crude oil. Now he could scarcely control the Symbiote, let alone himself, as it felt such a strong attraction to a being that brought up about so much excitement. Why was she so close to him now? Did she find him attractive despite his false identity as a lowly servant? Little did he realize his cover had already started to blow itself when she scorched the image of her inescapable eyes into his own that transformed from plain brown to a vibrant orange. Paralyzed still from the command she had given which caused so much horror he could not pull away from her as she came so close with her defiled divinity. At the same time he could not bring himself to act on the desires burning in his heart set alight by her gilded beauty. The promise of a kiss and even more kept him rooted to the spot as all else was forgotten in her overwhelming presence.


Passion surged through him that felt similar to being in the wine cellar with the other girl. Emotions consumed any logic left until nothing remained as they flowed through him beyond control of all but the radiant and ravishing angel who inspired them. Lips so close he could kiss them just by moving in the slightest, stayed just out of his reach, serving as the greatest temptation he had ever faced thus far in his short life. Meanwhile the Symbiote found itself in for a surprise when she touched the 'clothing' he wore and tugged them both toward her. It fed off the same feelings as it had before. . . kept pacified at the worst possible moment. Now their ruse as a servant had come to an end whether they wanted it to or not. Despite the capability of mimicking so many different things it could not replicate the true texture of anything but itself. Her sense of touch would tell her this material had the feeling of leather, felt, and something else all combined into one thing that just felt plain. . . alien.

Mesmerized by her, he stood there held prisoner by nothing more than the sensation of her warm breath on his skin. Trevor could not bring himself to try escaping from her even if he had wanted to in the first place. Right now she could have commanded him just as she had those others to deeds like murder and even far beyond that. Nothing moved for him save for this woman as time crawled along as though it too had fallen prey to her. Jaded people often mock the idea of a moment lasting for more than a moment. . . for him it was all too real.

But then she looked at him that way.

Directed at him now was nothing less than the look an Angel would give to the worst sinner on the face of the earth. Almost he realized that he had done some great wrong to her and upset a creature that committed mass murder but a few minutes ago. Yet now she accused him through her eyes alone with all the delicateness of an innocent girl. Passion no longer paralyzed him. . . now it was a searing pain that kept him rooted to the spot out of penance for a sin he did not even comprehend. Guilt started to consume his mind to the point of ignorance toward any threat to him in this mansion as though he wanted to receive punishment and be struck down by the Lord Almighty himself. All he could feel now was her fingers letting go of the false fine clothes and her hand sliding down to his chest.

Right before she sucker punched him straight in the solar plexus.

Pain exploded all the way through his body and blasted away any sway she had gained through feminine charm. Awoken with all the wrath of a pissed off rattlesnake, the Symbiote ceased hiding from enemy eyes as she tossed him toward the ceiling. Right when the pair crashed out through the skylight changes began while shattered glass heralded their battle as they soared for the clouds. Each arm from the elbow down turned abyssal black as razor sharp claws grew from all ten fingers. Now he possessed what were nothing less than gauntlets. Hair as silver as the lining of a cloud flowed freely now while Trevor was forced to ascend higher and higher. Gazing at her with unbridled fury were a pair of eyes blazing neon orange that saw her fist draw back for another blow. One that was caught in the palm of a hand reinforced by superhuman strength. Crimson lines were drawn where the claws rent her gold-flecked skin effortlessly while his other hand came up to palm her face with a vice-like grip.

"Don't fight me! I came to rescue you from those guys that kidnapped you!"

Resisting him at every turn, the Angel fought every second to free herself from his grip. Time itself seemed to speed up and slow down each time the momentum of the fight shifted. . . and that was a lot. Both twisted in the air as they fought tooth and nail while only one of them could fly. For every blow she attempted he matched it with an agility that left behind red gashes in it's wake. All he did the entire time was counter or block as his clothes turned as black as the night sky above. Punches were knocked aside or the arm behind it caught and twisted. Knees aimed for his groin only met empty air. Not once did he strike her outright with those razor sharp claws. Any damage she sustained came from his agile self-defense kept her at bay from hurting him. Despite all the vicious retalliation of the Symbiote, its host was still somewhat in control.
 
"Don't fight me! I came to rescue you from those guys that kidnapped you!"


The growl is what registered with her, sending a deep shudder through her body that rippled through her wings.

"fight me" it begged, "fight me" it pleaded, "fight me" it ached with every ichorous fiber of it's being.

From one venomous creature to another....she would grant its wish.

The Angel's luscious lips parted into a beatific smile, her saintly expression tinged with wickedness as a streak of blood from the Host's razor claws splattered across her cheek. Her hands pulled him close again as she gazed into his eyes, those two gleaming pits that seemed to only reflect one thing. Hell.

She pulled him close but the next moment she seemed to curl in on herself and in a move that required dexterity even the Host might find admirable, her heels soon slammed into his chest, kicking him away from her. The cuts that laced her smooth flesh seemed not to bother her as the crimson lines knitted back together a few moments later. Her own glinting suns stared into his fiery pits as he fell away from her.

A moment later, the Angel flared her wings and dived straight toward him, her golden form a blur.
 
Wind knocked straight from his lungs by her kick, he felt time slow as her feminine form dove for him. Beyond a doubt his fate was sealed until a stream of symbiotic webbing shot right for her face. And with a gooey *thwap!* the Angel was blinded. Wind rushed past his ears in a howl to match the Angel's own raging struggle to free her face from the alien adhesive. Right when her hands rose up the host acted without hesitation. Lips twisted into a smirk just before he grabbed her right forearm with both hands and somersaulted over her head in one fluid movement that left their backs facing one another. Muscles flexed while the 'fabric' of his 'clothes' rippled from his spine bending backward with all the flawless flexibility of an Olympic gymnast. Both feet connected with her body a split second later in a harsh kick that had his heels digging into the small of her back just before pushing off her firmly sculpted rear with naught but his toes.

Gaining altitude closer toward the clouds above but still nowhere near them, his legs rose up and spread apart into an aerial split. Only for a moment did he hang in the air above her until gravity took hold. Trevor's outstretched hand reached downward for what it could not grasp. So instead he decided to extend his range. Using both legs like iron sights, he aimed with care for a specific spot on his prized opponent. Now another strand of webbing was fired, but at the point right between her wings as he descended ever closer and then touched down on her rear end with his feet. One hand held the webline tightly while the other grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Please listen to me angel! I don't want to hurt you!"
 
The two figures twisted and hurled though the air, climbing higher and higher as the intensity of their combat grew even more vicious. It did not take long before the pursuers below were left far behind, their own figures being blotted out by clouds & replaced with twinkling stars.

A soft shudder trickled through the angel's body as she felt her heels impact the young man's body. She dove for him, wings tucked close to her body, the black pupils of her eyes contracting into predatory slits as one hand reached out for him, fingers curled like talons.

A moment later, something struck her in the face. Hard. She was plunged into darkness and the momentum of the strike knocked her off-kilter and her dive was interrupted. Her hands reached up to her face, fingers clawing at the substance that blinded her. As she fought to regain her sight she felt a hand close tightly around her arm and the world turned upside down. As blindness and vertigo assaulted her, she felt a blow against the base of her spine with enough force that made her lips part, a silent breath rushing past.

Her wings fluttered and flared, pumping in the frigid air as she fought to right herself and keep herself airborne. Just as she managed to tear the adhesive ichor away there was a dull thwap at the base of her wings, pinning them back in a flared position. A hand knotted in her hair a moment later, pulling her head back and she felt pressure against her backside.

She gazed into the darkness, the howling of the wind dwindling into a low groan as she hung in the air, arms and wings outspread, fingers dangling loosely in the air. Her back was arched to accommodate the constriction of both her wings and her hair.

"Please listen to me angel!"

His plea reached her ears and her head turned slightly toward her shoulder.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

She turned her head further, his grasp on her hair near the ends which gave her the much needed leverage to try and face him. Still, a few strands snapped as she continued to move.

Her wings though, were another story and no doubt it would be a story that he would not forget any time soon.

The angel twisted, slowly at first, then with a viciousness that belonged more to an enraged snake than any heavenly servant.

The sounds of bone cracking likely reached his ears even through the gusting air. The next moment the angel was turned toward him, their faces only bare inches away from one another. Her long legs wrapped around his hips and pulled him close, the heat of her body a very obvious and real thing.

Arms wrapped around him in an embrace as she came to rest her body flush against his, her chin resting in the crook of his neck. She adjusted slightly as though they were merely exhausted lovers, bringing her lips closer to his ear, a soft, husky whisper sighing out.

"It's ok…I want to hurt you."

Her lips pressed against his throat as they plummeted through the air.

The moment before their bodies slammed through the dilapidated roof of an abandoned building, her wings closed around him with shuddering tightness, her arms wrapping around him in a close embrace.

++++

Darkness nestled around them both, the sounds of the night reaching the ears of the Symbiote first.
 
Nocturnal noises alerted the Symbiote to the fact that it had survived the fall and still indeed lived. Ever since the harsh landing it ceased to resemble the fine clothes of a servant to aristocracy. Right now blending in no longer mattered. A human body remained concealed beneath a puddle of sentient black tar which resembled a body bag. Before anything else it checked the pulse of Trevor to see if he still lived. Good fortune gave the young man a faint but steady pulse of someone who had suffered several injuries. Mental prods and pokes were made at the mind of it's Host while the living costume repaired all the physical damage in a matter of minutes. Even a master surgeon would find himself jealous of how it not only reset the bones in place but had them heal properly at an accelerated rate.

Trevor, wake up!

"What? Huh? Ugh I feel like I got hit by a building. . . and lost. Where. . .am I?"

Inside the building that 'hit you'. But it wasn't the culprit. Also, talk to me in your head. You'll look like a crazy person if you keep having a one-sided conversation out loud. We're not alone you know. Open your eyes.

Eyes opened with blurry vision that made the world an incomprehensible mess. Down inseparable from up. In an attempt to get a better grip he tried to rise up from being flat on his back only to find he could not move his own body. Just his head and vocal chords felt functional at all. Fear took hold with an expected immediacy.

Why can't I move?! Am I paralyzed?!

No you're fine. Relatively speaking at least. A few fractured ribs and broken kneecaps mixed in with some cuts and bruised muscles. Spine did have a few heavy blows from the impact though. Plus a concussion. But I'm healing you right now. Just give me a little time before you try walking again. Or you'll be in for some hellish pain.

. . . How do you know to fix all this?

After being bonded to your body for this long Trevor, I know where and how everything should be versus how it is. . . right now.

You can keep track of all that?

Mhmm.

The Symbiote kept him in place as a precaution against the Host ruining a rather delicate healing process. Soon enough he would move again as though nothing had ever happened to him in his entire life. Injuries that could change the life of a regular man eliminated in less than a day. While the results showed the work of an expert, those inhuman capabilities were under the control of an inexperienced healer. Contrition still had much to learn when it came to healing injuries on the fly while still in constant motion. One day he could reach the level of Venom and other elder Symbiotes but until then. . . limitations in skill still existed.

Both eyes finally came into focus with their natural green color restored at long last.

The Angel!

Yep. She hasn't moved this whole time. Been keeping an eye on her ever since I came to. I don't think she's dead though, just unconscious.

Laying on the floor more than a few feet away was the reason he had put himself in such danger and gone through so much pain in the first place. A young woman who he did not know the name of even now. In fact all he did know was that she was divine. . . and deadly. Someone who had given the order for wholesale murder. Yet in his heart he believed that some foreign evil possessed her to commit such a sin. After all a strange cult that had to do with Hellfire kidnapped her. God only knew what they had done to her before her arrival to the dinner party. For several minutes he just laid there looking at her upside-down while his jostled brain recalled the events tonight thus far.

She. . . she pulled me so close as we fell. I'll never forget how tight she clung to me. And then she kissed me.

She also said she wanted to hurt you.

She ALSO took the brunt of the fall for us.

I don't trust her. You shouldn't either. But I'll admit, Angel or not. . . she has a violence to her unlike anyone we've met in person before.

She's the victim here. We managed to save her from those crazies. I'm going to ask her what happened when she wakes up.

Fine with me as long as if a fight starts again between you two I get to cut loose. By the way, you should be able to move again.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Clothes formed around Trevor's body from what was little more than a black tar body bag a few minutes ago. Deliberate choices were made in what he wore this time. Nothing too fancy for certain. Otherwise it might remind her of those crazies who held her captive. Jet black jeans that matched his natural hair color found themselves contrasted by an orange t-shirt hidden underneath a black coat complete with a built-in hood. Athletic shoes continued the trend of black right down to the laces.

Kneeling down beside the young woman, he examined her for injuries without moving her body at all. Part of him wanted to take her to a hospital. That would only raise alarm though, drawing attention from the police and possibly even that strange cult. Both he wanted to avoid at all costs. On the other hand he could try taking her to a church but Contrition hated the sound of those bells. Now he sat down beside the young woman, looking over at her every so often to see if she had woken up yet. He would not leave her side while she remained unconscious and vulnerable. Murasaki would guard her from any foe so long as an ounce of strength remained in his body.
 
"It's ok…I want to hurt you."

It's ok...I want to hurt you.

…want to hurt you…

It wants to hurt you…

It wants…

"It's ok."

The wind was likely the only one who heard her soft coo, but it would not be calmed.

She could feel the wind whipping around them, her wings shuddering as they fought to keep tucked close, each gust of wind catching on her pinions sending a sharp knife of pain into her back.

The cold sensation of the stabbing pains in her back and the others that riddled her body fading into a dull throb caused her eyes to open wide. Her gaze turned wild for a moment as the cold settled in, a cold far deeper than what the wind itself should have caused. Her limbs felt disconnected, her mind wandered as she tried to focus, her wild gaze fixated on the moon above.

The young woman arched against her captive, her prey, her limbs tightening around him in an embrace as the wind buffeted at them, howling in anger. With a howl of her own anger, a howl of frustration of a hunt gone wrong, she let her wings loosen, the wind jerking them roughly as their course changed and their position changed, the rough transition bringing them facing downward, giving them both a clear view of the ground that rushed to meet them.

The angel smiled a wry smile, a wild smile.

It was a good enough place to fall as any.

++++

The darkness writhed. The darkness assaulted her. The darkness embraced her. The darkness spoke to her.

She didn't understand the words. She couldn't. The darkness wasn't supposed to talk.

Something kept her from understanding. From focusing. From thinking.

The Something did accomplish what it came to do, though. The Something made her desire. Oh, the things she found herself wanting…

The Something did things that caused such emotions to course through her, such wants. She wanted it back now, but she could feel it fading…as though it were being drawn away…fading away…being pulled away too far for it to have any more influence over her. If anything, she would remember this dream…revel in it…

++++

Gravity did its job and sent the pair plummeting earthward. Soon enough, the earth took the form of a clustering of rooftops and abandoned construction sites. Their opponent was singled out. A rooftop of a building three stories high.

I want to hurt you, I want to hurt you, I want to hurt you. Hurtyou, hurtyou, hurt you, hurt, you... You.

++++

Dust and debris exploded around them, clogging eyes and noses. Boards cracked and splintered, shards driving into and rending flesh. Loud snaps of bone could be heard, many from the angel as well as the Symbiote.

The forceful impact finally tore them apart, the young man falling to the floor. The angel did not have as easy a passage to the ground. The extra bulk of her wings caused her to be violently torn in a different direction as they caught on the jutting ends of broken beams, the sounds of snapping echoing from both the wood and her bones. She hung suspended from the shredded remains of her wings and clothing, hanging lifelessly in the darkness.

She did not move.

If the Symbiote's attentions ever turned away from her, it would not have missed anything. Only once did she move. Or, at the very least, her body moved. The lifeless weight of her body was a slow strain on the thin ligaments of what kept her poised in such a grotesque way. With the even more grotesque sounds of flesh tearing, the angel's body struck the ground with a dull thud. On her way down she managed, though not with any conscious effort, to snag one of the many dropcloths that hung in the dilapidated building. The dusty cloth settled over her like a shroud.

What was visible to Trevor when he finally moved over to the angel looked like no angel at all, at least not one from any unearthly plain. All that lay beneath the cloth was the battered remains of a young woman. There was a clear resemblance but any remnants of the unearthly bird of prey was gone.
 
Green eyes scoured the young woman again for any signs of consciousness. Only the gentle rise and fall of her chest accentuated by the sheet that covered clothes that were tattered beyond a doubt underneath. A chest that his eyes glanced at more than one who looked upon a fallen Angel with protective reverence should. Then again no one would really know, would they? Just him, Contrition, and. . . God. Even the souls of his parents could watch him from the heaven he had sent them reeling to in terror and misunderstanding.

Do they still love me after what I've done? Or do they hate me now? My parents are probably looking down on me from heaven on high with a shame that burns hot as the Hell I'm probably going to when I die.

No reply came from the other consciousness inside his mind.

Just what sort of mess did the cloth hide? Trevor had only pressed his hands to the cloth before to feel for injuries rather than peek underneath. Quiet amazement glittered in his green eyes when he looked at her face. Nothing seemed to remain of the one who had fought him in the skies. Wings that had lifted him up to the very clouds were nowhere to be seen. Only the face was the same and even that looked different. More peaceful now with eyes closed than when they were open earlier glaring daggers, seducing him, and accusing him of a betrayal he did not even understand committing. A look that brought back painful memories whenever he saw it.

You should pull back the cloth and look.

W-what? Why?

So we can actually SEE how bad it is since you care so much. Or are you just going to use that sheet as an excuse to feel up an unconscious girl?

I wasn't doing that all!

Sure.

Laughter that teased the Host echoed through his mind.

A trembling hand had to steady itself as unsure fingers clasped the dusty cloth shrouding the Angel in modesty and mystery. Pulled down to her waist, he then started to examine her with his eyes rather than his hands this time. Cautious eyes tried not to linger on where bare skin showed through the ripped clothes in case she woke up to his impromptu damage assessment. He could see she had suffered far more than him. She truly had protected him from the fall. If not for her sacrifice he would have ruptured organs, internal bleeding, and even more broken bones. Quite a large difference to what he had gone through. Just because Contrition could repair his body would not have dulled the pain as it happened. It certainly did not give him an excuse to gain reckless wounds.

Less than a minute passed before he pulled the cover back up followed up with bowing his head and bringing his hands together in a prayer for her health to return.
 
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