Neil Christenburg | Location: Abandoned Train Station | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Just as Jen had ignored his copy from outside, this Neil ignored her pleas for negotiation. "I understand your sentiments now, Ms. Clemons. It's unfortunate that you feel that way." He pivoted and slowly started making his way to Quinn's prone body. The sound of his copy ascending the stairs clicked quietly in the background.
"I was given strict orders to brink back all three of you." Just as he reached down to pick her up, a hand around his arm stopped him. Leo's grip was firm and borderline trembling with barely restrained emotion. Ah, yes. Neil knew of this emotion intimately. Self-control is a lost art form these days, he supposed. "Is there a problem, Mr. Miranda?"
Leo forced the man upright with a yank, locking amber eyes onto his form. The amount of bubbling fury surging beneath his skin was as molten as an active volcano. "You are right, Jen," he growled, "This desgraçado (bastard) cannot be trusted. He has harmed one of our friends!"
"Why taint such a beautiful language with ugly words, Mr. Miranda?" Neil smirked. "And I'll happen to let you know that my father is very much in the picture. It cannot be helped that yours wasn't." For a moment, Leo's fire wavered and pure hurt washed over his demeanor.
"You...H-how do you know all of this--"
"It's my job, Mr. Miranda. Now please," Suddenly, in his free hand was a handheld device, unfamiliar and titanium. His thumb rested on the button. "Release me...and come quietly with us."
Just as he finished this, the Neil copy appeared in the doorway, his gun raised and aimed at Jennifer.
Neil caught in Leo's grasp, mystery device in the agent's hand, Quinn unconscious, Jen's .22 on Neil, and the copy's pistol locked onto Jennifer...They were caught in a stalemate.
"You will not force us to go anywhere, you sick bastard." She growled, her fingers clenching her weapon so tightly her skin had turned white. Her muscles cramping, ever trained upon the man, eyes flickering cautiously to her Querido. He was troubled by the man's words. A father figure. Jennifer never pried into Leo's family, and never asked questions about his past. In fact, she had not realized he wasn't a legal citizen until the man had revealed it. But there was one thing Jennifer could never bare herself to do, and that was pry at Leo until he hurt. She left it at what they had, and perhaps that was foolish. Never truly understanding the man she would sleep next to at night. But that didn't matter. What mattered was getting him and Quinn out safely.
"Put it down, put that down right now." She asked calmly, aiming her weapon at the man's head. She could not risk shooting Leo, but she knew that he had a grip upon the man, not the other way around. Jennifer just did not want to blow the man's brains out in front of her querido. She didn't think she could forgive herself for such a thing. She heard footsteps and her eyes flickered over to see another man in a suit, aiming his gun at her. She groaned, her eyes clenching as her shoulders trembled.
"Ah...you really are organized little bitches aren't you?" She grit her teeth, her grip on the gun wavering. She knew she could not shoot the man Leo was holding. She would be shot in turn, and even if they did want to get her alive, she would still be harmed. She was not sure if she could hold a pocket long enough or quick enough to stop the bullet. But if she shot the man with the gun...whatever White Collar had in his hands could be used. But she realized something. Leo had his grip on White Collar. He could very well claw at him if need be. Her chest became heavy with fear and regret.
"Querido...forgive me for what you are about to see." Her eyes moved towards Quinn, knowing now that she had to protect the woman. She prayed that Leo could stop White Collar, but she was not certain. Her body shook and before she could gain fully control of herself, she swiveled around to face the armed man and she fired twice, both times aimed at his hands. She grimaced at the booms of the gunshots, her mind running thick with panic. Her breath caught in her throat.
Neil Christenburg | Location: Abandoned Train Station | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Well then...Neil supposed he should've seen this possibility coming.
Which he did, and he had prepared for it diligently.
A pair of piercing bangs shattered the air and next thing he knew, his copy's gun fell from his hands. One of the bullets had clipped the side of his finger, running from the edge of his fingernail down to the top of his wrist bone. However, instead of reeling from the impact and cradling his wound in pain, the copy slowly raised his hand to observe it.
The severed fleshed didn't appear to be natural at. Skin and muscle showed, but there was a startling lack of blood. Almost none to be seen, as if he was a thoroughly cleaned slab of steak picked off from the supermarket. He smirked and dropped his hand. "That smarts."
The other Neil next to Leo barely had a chance to bat an eyelash before four talons drove into her abdomen, puncturing skin. He keeled over from the blow in surprise, before the Brazilian man seized him by the back of the blazer and swung him around to smack his back into the cracked window. It shattered explosively, showering them both in glass shards, but Leo barely noticed. His wings had unfurled and a feral snarl rumbled deep in his throat.
"You dare raise a gun to meu Querido?" he seethed. However, Neil chuckled and wheezed around the fingers clenching his throat.
He shakily raised the device from earlier and with a smile, replied, "A sweet serenade for Mr. Miranda."
He pressed the button.
In a heartbeat, Leo screamed in pain as a tortuous ringing set off in his ears. He flung Neil back before slamming both hands over his ears, but the frequency showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. He fell to his knees, face red and eyes screwed shut.
Neil had chucked the device into the hallway before he fell from the window, his body hitting the rails with a sickening and fatal thud. His corpse laid twisted up and dead on the ground, though there was once again a lack of blood...and then it dissipated into a stream of smoke. Gone.
Copy Neil twitched uncontrollably. His body emitting tears and ripping noises until split in two down the middle. A new copy jumped off of him, the hall once again holding a pair of agents.
They adjusted their ties.
"I believe Mr. Miranda is out of commission," they said simultaneously, "Owls' ears are quite sensitive, aren't they?" They tapped their ears. "For us, we can't hear a single thing, but it might as well be a million emo teenagers at a screamo concert for him."
Horror overtook Jennifer as she realized the man wasn't bleeding. She knew very well how much blood should have appeared from such an injury, and having seen none, her stomach churned. She kept her weapon raised, her head turning back to see Leo viciously tear his talons into the man's abdomen. He had gone primal, as Jennifer referred to it as, anger visible within his eyes. Jennifer's body tensed. Bile burned at the back of her throat, and just as she saw a way to get out of this with her querido...he screamed. So filled with pain that it brought tears locked behind her eyes. Her throat clenched and she desperately exclaimed
"Stop it! Stop hurting him!" Her eyes grew wide as the man stood before her, splitting himself into two. "I will kill both of you if you don't stop! I'll kill you!" Anger flooded through her completely and she knew she had lost her control. She grit her teeth as she aimed at one's head, desperate to pull the trigger. Her hand shook and her finger locked into place before it could even consider pressing the sensitive trigger. She couldn't bring herself to look back at her pained querido. She...the item. The item was in the hall...and yet the two agents stood in her way. "I guess two more kills tainted on my soul wouldn't hurt." She growled, once again finding the strength to pull the trigger at the replica she had shot first. She aimed for his head, tears trickling down her cheek freely with another large
Bang!
Her eyes, wide and crazed stared at the other clone, sickness once again building up as she realized, there was no blood. Nothing. Nothing to suggest what she had killed was human. "Ill consider sparring your pathetic little body if you stop it...otherwise...I'll shoot. I swear to God, Ill start at your knee caps. Then your wrists...move up to your stomach, your collarbone, then straight into your skull...I am serious. I swear to God I will kill you if you don't do it!" Her throat felt raw. She had lost it. All for attempting to protect her friend and dear. Hurt flashed along her demeanor. She hated threatening the man like this. Her unfiltered rage was taking over her system, changing her into a woman she never wanted to see. As far as she saw it, she would only kill a man when it meant her or her loved ones safety. Yet...
No. She was doing this for him. She would have to kill the replica before he could form again. She raised her weapon, body trembling with sorrow. "I'll make your last minutes on Earth a living hell. A dip in the pool for what is going to greet you..."
Neil Christenburg | Location: Abandoned Train Station | Interactions: Jen, Leo & Quinn
"I'm only hurting him because you refused to cooperate," one Neil said. The other Neil picked up from where he left off. "Although this state you're in doesn't seem anymore rational. You can kill us if you want, it won't matter."
There was a soft thud in the background. Leo laid unconscious on the floor, having passed out from the overwhelming pain in his head. Good. Everything was falling into place. He could admit that he was somewhat concerned about how well the plan would fall through. The information he gathered about these were daunting, but he had faced up to the challenge head on.
He had too much at risk to back down.
And now, he was on the cusp of success. Just barely teasing the edge--
Bang!
...
Correction. He had now officially won.
The first clone's head snapped back from the gunshot and collapsed at Neil's feet. Casually, he stepped over the corpse that was already vanishing into smoke. Ms. Clemons was hysterical, thus erasing all strategic thought from her mind and leaving her vulnerable. Specifically, vulnerable to move. He calmly closed the distance between them, wrapping his fingers around the barrel of her gun.
"If you've managed to kill me once, then do so again, Ms. Clemons. I've heard it gets easier a second time. Care to put that saying to use?" He pushed against the gun, guiding her over just an inch or so to the left. Just a little. Just enough to expose her shoulder through the shattered window, and shoved the barrel into his mouth.
"Do it," he gagged around steel. "Do it!"
Another gunshot...
And Jen slumped unconscious, another projectile dart protruding from the back of her shoulder. Copy Neil heaved a slow sigh of relief, one that he had been holding in hours before arriving at the destination.
Nearly 70 feet away, perched atop a sloping hill and hidden among sun-bleached foliage was Original Neil. He lowered the scope from his eyes and smiled. He knew this sniper tranquilizer would come to good use.
Arthur was acting odd all day, something Gwen did not bring up until he offered his hands to her, purposing a chance to sway her from side to side, teach her how to dance for the date she was scheduling for later that week. The day began with him offering to take her, Izzy, and Cyrus to breakfast, despite the fact that his money was running scarce in his attempt of health. Arthur had not been successful in the publication process so far, and whatever spare money he did have either went to food, water, and rent onto his apartment. He managed to scrape some money in order to make this happen, and he spoiled his three companions beyond the usual jelly and toast that they had grown accustomed to. The next thing that he did was nothing truly bizarre, he had offered Gwen to do their daily run. However, he asked of her to do it alone, considering Cyrus and Izzy both had prior engagements. They ran their usual path, but Arthur had cut an extension to an area that Gwen had never seen before in town. Arthur had stumbled upon a little garden that appeared to have grown wild without the care of an owner, and sure enough, he took it upon himself to care and tend to it. He decided to show Gwen after what appeared to be three months of tending. Gwen hated to admit it, but he was wondrous at the skill. There were roses, violets too. He had managed the hidden area beyond the path so beautifully that Gwen was sent into a shocked state of being.
That was in the course of three hours this morning. Next, Arthur had personally booked the restaurant for Gwen and her date to attend to next week, having waited two hours in his room to properly book a table. Now he was offering her his hands, suggesting that if she had one little lesson she would be sure to impress her date with her 'smooth moves'. He pulled her gently to her feet, one hand pressed against her waist and the other locked firmly in hers.
"Arthur are you sick again?" She inquired gently as he began to introduce her to the steps, their two bodies swaying back, and then forward, left to right.
"Hmm?" He inquired, seemingly out of his normal state of thought."No no, I am healthy as a horse Gwendolyn. Why do you ask?"
"You...you seem to be doing all the activities of a dying man. You are treating me as if...as if you are trying to make amends for something. You bought all of us breakfast, you showed me your secret garden...and you wasted two hours for something so...so small. Why did you?"
"I felt generous today. Besides, I had been meaning to do all of these things for a while, I just needed to scrape up some money, make the place presentable...as for the phone call..." He chewed the inside of his cheek, gently guiding her back. "I knew you always wanted to go there, and it is a true pain to even consider getting inside. So...so I figured I'd treat you to something nice. We only have so long to live Gwen...and I figure why not start basking in it?"
"Again...the words of a dying man. Are you sure you are okay?" Gwen gently reached up to check his forehead, as if a single touch could inform her of his ailments. He shook his head, guiding her to the left now.
"I have just learned that there are some things that we should not take for granted. My friendship with you, Cyrus and Izzy is one of those things. And if there is one thing I have learned the last few years...is that I should take every day in light. To make the best of it. Besides, seeing all of you happy makes me happy, and there can't be a better feeling in the world than seeing you smile...and Cyrus and Izzy." He caught himself, taking her hand in his as he twirled her in a circle before pulling him back to her.
"Arthur are you absolutely certain everything is okay?"
"Gwen, I promise. If there was anything wrong, you would be the first to know. Now...hush hush. I must teach you the magnificent art, of dance!" He suddenly dipped her, hands pressed firmly against her waist as he kept her in placing, laughing softly.
"Arty...if you drop me I'll...I'll..."
"Go on ~" He teased, sighing as Gwen firmly wrapped her arm around his neck as a defensive measure. "Ah. Strangle me. Challenge accepted."
---
Gwendolyn was surprised at how quiet it was the night. She perched at the second story window of the old home where she resided most of her objects. No one had bothered to buy it, considering the rumors it had been haunted. It took months for Gwendolyn to truly heighten that myth, sometimes by making it appear as if bones were seeping from the walls. She kept her mask, coats, pocket knives, first aid kits and a variety of other objects. She had pulled her mask over her face as she observed from above, the fresh air beating against her face. She pulled herself back through the window and jogged downstairs, prying the front door open and shoving it behind her. One little stroll around the neighborhood couldn't hurt her.
She was however very shocked at how hesitant Arthur was about leaving the house before Gwen decided to go out on her own. He claimed he could not get a sight upon Cyrus, he was not answering his cell phone nor his text messages. Gwen encouraged him to go back to his apartment, and Izzy did as well. Izzy had been struggling enough as it was, with her medical program and her attempts to begin fostering children. Gwen was not opposed to this, but she knew it was tiring. It did give her a good excuse to find her quiet space at this little old home.
"Se siente muy tranquilo(It seems too quiet)." She mused to herself, tapping her mask. She figured she would need to get a voice disrupter at some point, but she doubted that anyone would be able to recognize it. She had managed to make her voice thicker and muffled, and had even had some media outlets question whether or not she was a male. It did not matter to her. As long as no one knew who she was.
With one footstep, she sensed another human skeletal structure. At least fifty feet from where she was. Approaching her. She swallowed and turned her head, her palm blossoming with blood as she formed a sharpened bone. She disconnected it from her hand, grimacing as the blood trickled down her hand and to her wrists. She clutched the weapon within her clean hand, holding it out in front of her.
"Ah! My good Reaper! Oh it is so good to see that you are out and about tonight!" A familiar voice boomed across the street, cheery and...welcoming. In response, Gwen could feel bone seep upon her back, creating a thin layered shield. Warm blood trickled down her back, sending shivers down her spine. "Oh...I seem to have startled you...I am most sorry." The voice continued, eventually revealing itself from the shadows of the alleyway from which it came. A blonde figure emerged, their glasses clearly broken. She recognized the man as Arthur's roommate, a Cyrus Booker. A grin consumed his features, and despite having her shoulders slump in relief, something began to fester within Gwen. Fear.
"I hope you aren't here to cause trouble, sir." She claimed lowly, voice gravely and raw.
"Gwendy, has no one told your Bruce Wayne impression is beyond horrible? Honestly, I don't know how anyone doesn't piece together who you are..."
Her face paled. How in hell did Cyrus Booker know who she was? She swallowed, fists clenched.
"I do not know what you are talking about, but if you continue to run your mouth I'll..."
"Break me." Cyrus's features lightened. "Like you did to that man in the alleyway. Like you did to the hero who beat you. Gwen I cannot blame you for those things, but I need you to know something. You are needed, now more than ever. Please, take off the mask. I know you can panic because of the thought of discovery. You need to breathe evenly for what I am to explain to you..." Cyrus, without hesitation or fear of his friend, approached her, hand bloody, eyes narrowed. He gently removed the mask, placing it over her hair. He smiled softly at her, his hazy grey eyes inspecting her. Gwendolyn froze in front of him, and he gently reached for the bone in her hand. "I know you are not going to stab me. Please, give me time to explain." Cyrus plucked the bone from her grasp, then turned her hand up right to examine the blood. "Stay still. It will sting." Cyrus skimmed his fingers across her trembling hand, the wound slowly closing and leaving her with a simple stain.
"W-what...C-cyrus..." She stammered, confirming Cyrus' fear of her possible panic.
"I am apart of an organization overlooking heroes like you. We have been observing others like you...Bearskin, Noble, the Night Owl...and we need you. Now more than ever."
"W-what about...you know..." Her eyes traced down to her sneakers, her heart hammering in her chest. Pain flashed along his features.
"Dead. Disappeared. Or just gone. The big shots are gone, and perhaps rightfully so...I know what...what the golden duo did. Or at least one of them. Several fractures. Broken nose. You told Isabelle...Izzy, that you feel down the stairs. You told her that after you patched yourself up. But that wasn't enough to explain the bruises, the scratches. The other heroes...I know they were not always kind. But, we are creating a new force to protect the city. To protect the little guys. Gwen. We need you now to help. This city needs its heroes. I think you know that better than anyone. Please."
"What...what happened to the others?" Gwen asked, voice light and trembling.
"FreakShow died in an ambush. That was a month or two ago. The others...some of them have gone off the grid completely. No contact available. Evermore was shot in her home. Single bullet wound. Gone. Just know, Gwen,we really need you. We need all of the little guys to come together. There is evil stirring in this city...and I fear it will not be long before something is unleashed. I cannot tell you more than I have already given out. But I need to ask you one thing. Put the mask back on. Follow me." Cyrus stared at the stunned Gwendolyn, who appeared unable to move momentarily. After a moment, Cyrus gently tugged at her sleeve and directed her down the alleyway. Time seemed to slip by as if it was nothing for Gwendolyn Slade. She could not believe that her friend was apart of something so...so sudden.
So out of character. She felt herself being gently pushed into a car, and Cyrus asking in a soft, pleading voice "Keep your head down." Gwendolyn did as Cyrus asked, her throat dry as Cyrus started the car.
---
"Here." Cyrus claimed as he hopped out of the car. "Now hold on...Stay in the car. I have one more guest to bring." Gwendolyn didn't respond, but kept her head down, eyes desperately flickering back and forth behind the mask. She heard chattering after what felt like an eternity.
"Hey man!" Fucking Noble. Gwen could recognize his distorted voice from miles away, and it sent annoyance down her system.
"Hey! Thanks for agreeing to come. Oh...by the way, it's time for!" Suddenly the door door opened and Noble came crashing through, Gwen letting out a small yelp as he nearly collided into her. "Friendly abduction! Come on Nobs, going on a road trip ~" The door slammed behind him, leaving Gwen crushed by Noble's body.
"Get...off me!" She exclaimed and pushed him off, the checkered mask staring back at her as he scrambled to his seat.
"Sorry...hey...Reaper, long time no see my woman!" She was pelted by affectionate head pats from the pest she was forced to call Noble. "Hows it going? Oh, by the way, what the fuck is happening?"
"Big shots are dead." Reaper mumbled, pressing her hand against her mask. "They...they need us. Stay quiet now, ask questions later."
"They?"
"What did I just say?" Reaper rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long drive.
"Psy-psycho...help...help me..." Vincent could barely process the broken man's words, the enemy's dagger having dug so deeply into Vincent's side that blood began to spurt, the dagger being twisted and jerked. Vincent could not scream, his body ignited in pain. Stitch...where the hell was Stitch? A pained wail broke through the abandoned warehouse where Vincent was pinned, and the FreakShow himself was being struck, over and over again. They had taken his powers away, but Vincent wasn't sure how. There was...a presence. Something that withheld Stitch from assisting.
Blood began to pour from Vincent's mouth as the knife was removed. Eyes fluttering, he attempted to reach up towards his attacker, only to receive a strike to the hand. "Stitch!" He exclaimed breathlessly, fear overtaking his entire system. He had noticed FreakShow had fallen silent, the man being surrounding by multiple villains. Striking, stabbing, slicing. FreakShow was Caesar in this moment, being overthrown by angry subjects. Vincent wasn't sure if he was going to get home to his Amara. He promised it would only take an hour. He was gone for three. The man removed the knife from Vincent's hand, a scream finally coming forth. "St-tich..." He reached up for his claw, only to be sliced again. Vincent's eyes flickered over helplessly to each wall, before finally...
The beast seemed to be flickering in and out of reality. It screeched, inhuman and in horrid pain. Black began to build in the corners of his eyes, copper coating his tongue. The man...the man would not stop striking him...
He could sense fear, anger, pure rage emitting from Stitch. With Vincent's last minute conscious, he saw Stitch do something he had never done before. Ripping his claws along the area before him...something appeared. Horrid. Angry....hungry...
"Honey ~" A sweet voice coed next to his ear, a gentle touch being administered to his arm. His eyes flickered open to see his wife's joyous face, a smile completely overwhelming her lips. She rested her head against his chest, eyes glittering as they glanced up to get a closer look. "You feel asleep on me silly. I told you we were only supposed to lie down for what...thirty minutes?" Slowly she rolled her body onto his torso, curling up completely upon him.
"How long has it been honey?" Vincent inquired, eyes encrusted with the sands of sleep. He gently raised his hand to trace his fingers down her hair, a yawn threatening to break his lips.
"An hour. I think we both fell asleep." She giggled lightly against his ear, her fingers lazily reaching up to brush back locks of his hair. "I know you are supposed to be doing your night shift soon...but I was so cozy, the day was so long...and the baby requires a lot of extra hugs." She pressed her stomach gently against Vincent's, her head resting against his chest.
"What the baby requires...so I shall give." He murmured, arms wrapped snuggly around his wife. They had known for about a month now, but the excitement for their child seemed to overwhelm him every waking moment. They were going to have a child together. Vincent never thought he was going to get this far in his life, a beautiful, loving wife, a child, and his caretaker's child to babysit as practice. Stitch reacted incredibly well to the announcement, quite literally hugging Amara and sniffing at her belly until he whimpered his happiness for a new family member.
"Thank you, baby." She chuckled softly as she squeezed him tightly in return, contently nuzzling her head into his shoulder. "I don't want you to go..."
"I know, I know." Vincent lightly soothed her, eyes flickering closed. "But I should. I need to make sure nothing happens. You know the big guys have been quiet ever since..."
"FreakShow. I know sweetheart. But there was nothing you could have done...it was a miracle you are still alive...I don't want you to get hurt again." Vincent sighed, expecting this from her. She was always worried for him, and he supposed he could not blame her. This was a dangerous job. But he had Stitch, he had Calypso and Cebbie. He had Virtue, as much as that horrified him.
"I will be okay, love. I promise." He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back gently in thought. "Maybe we should go check on Cassie...she's been awfully quiet.' Cassie, Vincent's niece of sorts, had been dropped off by her mother. She was an energetic child of twelve years, and she generally was talking to herself to make stories or found rowdy activities to keep her busy.
"Oh...I suppose we should..." Amara hopped off of Vincent, gently pulling him to his feet. Hand in hand, they exit their bedroom, surprised that their little niece Cassie wasn't making a sound. Slowly but surely they strolled towards her room, finally hearing...
"Once upon a time in midwinter..."
"M-m-mid..."
"Very good! When the snowflakes..." Vincent blinked as he could hear growls and an attempt of speech from Stitch. That was beyond bizarre, because as far as he knew, Cassie was not aware that Stitch existed.
"F...feel?"
"Almost sweetheart! You are doing so good! Yes you are, yes you are..." As Vincent pried open the door, he saw a sight so precious yet so stunning, that his heart nearly stopped in his chest. There, head upon her lap, Stitch laid, his head lifted slightly as he dragged his claw against the book that she held up for him. Cassie raised her head to pat him, something that Stitch enjoyed immensely. He nuzzled her head into her hand, head twisting back to see Vincent and Amara.
"K-kittens?"
"Uncle Vince! Aunty! Oh, I didn't realize you could see him too." She blinked, big blue eyes innocent and confused.
"He's apart of the family, sweetie..." Vincent swallowed unsurely, eyes flickering to meet his life long friend's. "How long have you known him?"
"Oh, he says name is..."
"S-s-s-stitch..."
"Very good sweetie! i have known about him since mama let me stay with you two years ago. I haven't told her about him though, she would probably think I am crazy." Vincent smiled, although he found that anxiety grew. He was not sure how his little niece wasn't horrified out of her wit, but he was grateful.
"Glad to see you two are acquainted, love."
---
"Alright. Stitch and I are going to head out. Be back in an hour. I promise." Vincent pressed a final kiss to his wife's lips, his fingers digging desperately into the fabric of her dress, fearful that he may never get to do it again.
"You better, my love. Otherwise I will come out there and kick your and the villains ass for you. Are we clear?" She whispered tiredly against his lips, pulling away slightly to stare into his eyes.
"Crystal. I'll see you soon." He pressed his lips to her forehead before exiting the home, dodging into the closet alleyway and pulling the balaclava over his face. He adjusted his coat and pulled the hood over, holding the claw close to his heart. "Keep me safe."
Natalie "Nat" Precious Kross | Location: West Point City Electrical Grid | Interactions: Thugs
She didn't suffer a seizure last night--unfortunately.
The realization had left Nat more bitter than before, keeping awake throughout the night in hour-long spurts, her conscience flickering in and out. It was torturous. To wake up in a cold and lonely bed several times within the same night. She had gone so long without Quinn's body heat and the way she clung to Nat in her sleep, grumbling incoherent and hilarious comments under her breath. "Hands off the cookies, Wolf" was Nat's favorite.
It was not just the bed. Everything about the apartment reminded her of Quinn. The piling dishes in the sink, her powder blue Snuggie draped over the couch, the electric blue XBOX controller collecting dust, the almost invisible dent from when Quinn literally slipped on soap and karate kicked the wall, the matching paintball masks from their first date propped up on the bookshelf in the den, the orange stress-ball that the blonde spent hours crafting resting on the corner of her work desk...
Every. Thing.
Nat shot up in her bed; another pathetic and fruitless attempt to fall asleep at her scheduled time. 10 PM. In reality, she had failed to do so ever since Quinn disappeared. It was impossible and, rather, her brain refused to shutdown until the depression drained her around 2 or 3 in the morning. She swept back her untidy brunette mane with a huff of frustration. "This is crazy...Fuck. Fuck! Fuck it, fine!" Angrily, she jumped out of bed and slipped on a pair of jeans, t-shirt and running sneakers--her same outfit for the past two days. She couldn't bring herself to care about appearances anymore.
Nat figured, hoped beyond hopeless hope, that a late night canvasing of the city would lead to...something. Something positive, for once. She knew what that "positive" was, but conveniently stumbling upon Quinn was just a cruel thought against herself. It was unhealthy and maybe even a tad obsessive, but Nat couldn't stop herself. Shoving her arms into the sleeves of a burgundy leather jacket and snagging her phone and pepper spray from the coffee table, Nat marched out into the streets.
Maybe she could circumvent the electric grid area again. Although she had scanned those perimeters more times than she can count, a nagging sector of his forensic senses always drew her back to the site. Something had happened. Quinn did not die in that explosion. Even if the caliber of lightning and flames were disastrous, some remnant of the blonde would've remained. Ashes, scorched scraps, anything. But for the team to find absolutely nothing of neither Quinn nor Colette...Nat didn't buy it. Not one bit.
She didn't even bat an eyelash as she snatched at the yellow tape and pulled it aside. Cameras were likely around and the precinct would recognize her instantly, but she could care less if she got in trouble. Detective Yamanashi would likely cover her anyways.
Her surroundings were surreal. Reminiscent. Reflective. Like an accursed mirror. Clawing its way into the deepest, darkest memories and bringing them to the surface, forcing her to relive that horrid day. Nothing seemed to change aside from the fallen tower...It stirred nausea in her stomach--
Footsteps. Ones that fell out of sync with her own.
"Wonderful," she growled under her breath while one hand slowly slipped into her pocket, wrapping around the pepper spray. She twisted the lock off of it, all while maintaining her same walking pace and forcing her posture to relax. She looked around to make out the silhouette so something dangling from the fallen tower. A pipe. One end sloping into a sharp point while the other just barely hung on...She headed in that direction.
The footsteps grew faster. Wait...Those were more than two feet. Four? More? Three people...fuck.
She picked up the pace a little.
Which prompted them to move faster.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." Nat was full on running now and any attempts the group made at maintaining stealth were lost. She was being chased. She couldn't look back; doing so would slow her down and give them the upper hand. However, she didn't need to glance their way to know that they were gaining on her.
Just as she came a few feet within the pipe, the force of a charging bull knocked the wind out of her and she met the ground hard. Pain blossomed along her the left side of her face and down her back. She barely had a chance to struggle before both of her arms and legs were pinned down. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Gahhhhh!" she screamed ferociously, only to grunt in surprise as a hand palmed the back of her head and slammed her face into the dirt.
"Quit squirming," a gravely voice chuckled above her. There was a withered bass to his voice, as if he had seen this life for years and years. A veteran scum of the lowest kind...They were the absolute worst to run into. He laughed again while giving her head another shove. "Who's going first?"
Nat's stomach plummeted as ice flooded her veins.
No...No, no, no--Hell NO--
"P-please," she whimpered weakly. Her thrashing about had calmed with defeat, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. "Don't...don't do this. O-oh God, please..." Like a moth drawn to a flame, the man cooed at her pleas and stroked her chin roughly.
"Just be quiet, sweetheart, and I promise you'll have f--FUCK!" He howled in fury and agony as he yanked his hand back, blood spilling down his wrist from Nat's viscous bite. His lackeys were startled by his exclamation and one's hold on her leg loosened just enough for Nat to kick back. Her ears were met with a high-pitched wail.
Groin shot.
She then rocketed her head back to smack her skull into the leader's nose. There wasn't a crack, but she knew the blow had hurt like hell. She squirmed out from underneath them and frantically scrambled for the pipe. Her fingers skimmed it--
"Get the fuck back here!" Nat was yanked back by her hair.
"LET ME GO! OR SO FUCKING HELP ME YOU WON'T HAVE DICKS IN THE NEXT TEN SEC--Mmmph!!"
Screaming. Screaming SCREAMING! Vincent groaned as he trudged down the alleyway, hearing Stitch's desperate calls within his head. Stitch, even when he was not physically present with Vincent, had sensitive ears. A sensitive nose. He knew something was off. Surely as he made his way down, he could understand Stitch's sudden panic. Surely enough, muffled screams and a sound of a struggle. The problem was, Vincent wasn't sure how far he was. There was a simple road ahead, one he could detect the screams from. He just didn't know if he could get there fast...
"Blood." Stitch's voice appeared next to him, the beast standing erect and towering Vincent by a foot. His claws outstretched, it's own peaceful appearance it had when cuddled to Cassie now gone. Stitch had one mission, his beady, crimson eyes locked ahead with his target. Vincent thought, momentarily, that he could see his back side twitch side to side, a cat waiting to pounce. I go. Keep up. Without a possibility for Vincent to respond, Stitch took off, running on all fours, swifter than Vincent could ever dream of being. "Oh of course. Keep up." Vincent sighed and broke into a sprint, barely managing to keep up after his beast. His responsibility.
Vincent was surprised how long it took for him to grow winded. The screams had ended by the time Stitch had reached his destination, once again standing upon his hind legs. Vincent appeared behind him, bent over with his hand over his chest. "Stitch...next time...you...you carry me..."
As you wish. Stitch's lips curled back into a nearly toothless grin, his eyes wide and alert as he had detected the smell of blood. The issue was, the source was not from the victim. It was from the criminal.Thisll take just a moment Vincent. Get the man on the left and I will handle the man holding her.Vincent, rather than responding, reaching for his pocket dagger, unsheathing it as he watched Stitch bounce from his feet, aiming himself for the man holding the woman captive. Vincent watched with very little interest as the monster ripped the man from the woman, throwing him into the ground and crawling over him, letting out a screech over his head. Vincent smiled.
"Good boy." Vincent took this opportunity to approach the nearest thug, holding up his fists in challenge. "You want to take me or the blood thirsty monster?" Vincent sighed as he struck with a closed fist, making sure that his knife was still secure in his other hand.
I will get the other man in just a moment...my care...Stitch's face turned to meet Vincent's, and together they shared a grin, both inhuman and horrifyingly unnatural. Stitch reached its claws above his head, taking it down upon the man's chest and making vertical cuts. Luckily for the man they were only enough to cause minimal bleeding, but as he grew closer to his stomach, Stitch buried it's claws a little bit deeper. Stitch almost satisfied, decided to leave one last mark upon the mans neck, barely cutting the skin. Yet, it would leave a mark nonetheless. Stitch soon turned upon the man, it's grimace of a grin still present along it's grey demeanor. It launched itself towards the third thug, claws at the ready.
"I am so proud of you!" Vincent exclaimed, once again aiming at the man's face with his fist and holding his dagger tightly in his free hand.
You as well.The monster claimed before doing a similar ritual upon the last thug. Vincent bestowed a grin upon his demeanor, glad the balaclava hid it. He was fearful he was turning more beast than man, and turned to the victim. "My dear are you alright?" He inquired, genuinely worried for her health and well being. "Do not worry, we have this."
I have this. Stitch corrected, placing himself upon the man's chest as he sat there, tongue dangling from the left side of his mouth.
Natalie "Nat" Precious Kross | Location: West Point City Electrical Grid | Interactions: Savage, Stitch & Thugs
Nat just knew she was screwed. This was it. She had fucked up, royally, and there was no recovering from this one. No chance to grumble out half-hearted "I'm sorry"s while Detective Yamanashi loudly scolded her for putting herself in danger. No chance to stomp back to her apartment, attempt to reflect over her actions, and fall straight back into bad habits. No chance to keep the self-destructive cycle spinning.
And to think, she didn't even get to see Quinn's face one more time...
And then, the vice grip on her hair vanished. Followed by screaming. Horrified, loud, male screaming. Nat fell to her hands and knees, struggling to breathe as the nerves finally starting seeping into her system. The suicidal bravado was not gone and left the perfect set-up for a panic seizure simmer in the pit of her chest. Inhale...Exhale...Inhale...Think of happy things...Happy things. Quinn's smile. Pranking Colette with Quinn. Whooping Quinn's butt on Halo...
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THA--AUGH!!" The sickening sound of flesh tearing and gurgling whimpers. Nat was now shaking, violently. The tears she tried so hard to restrain were now spilling down her dirty cheeks, mixing with grime and blood not her own.
Finally, a silence seized the air.
"Oh God...oh God...o-oh God..." she whispered under her breath like a frantic mantra. She still had yet to turn around; she had no idea what sight to expect, but she predicted it to be grotesque. She couldn't ignore the hard facts though; whatever harmed those thugs had yet to harm her. They, it, whatever or whoever...saved her.
Nat forced the tremors from her jelly legs and staggered onto her feet. She breathed deeply to solidify her features into something remotely defiant, and slowly turned around.
"Oh...fuck!"
Two things. One, the thugs were definitely out of commission; their chests were slashed and caked in blood, their coats and wife beaters a shredded mess. They were bleeding out steadily, though they managed to hold onto a flickering strip of consciousness.
Two...What in the actual fuck was she looking at?? Was that a giant dog monster thing?! Oh no...Oh no, this was it. Nat was finally losing her mind. The ominous figure standing next to it with a hood hiding his features didn't help. Jesus Christ, she just wanted to find Quinn. Was that too much to ask?!
"I...I-I think I'm gonna be sick," Nat mumbled as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. She was by no means the queasy type; her job had exposed her to plenty of horrific and disgusting anatomical gore. But she wasn't prepared for this. None of this. Through the haze of shock, bubbling horror, and hysteria, Nat managed to stagger towards her saviors...
She stopped in front of Stitch. Eyed the monster up and down, her gaze snagging onto his long panting tongue for a lingering moment, before laughing nervously. It started off soft, seemingly chipper and innocent. Then it climbed in volume, reaching a hysterical and terror-stricken grandeur that clearly spoke, "I'm losing my fucking mind, take me now insanity".
"J-Jesus Christ," she breathed while sweeping her hair back. She paced left and right. On explosive impulse, she stopped to reel her leg back and punt kick the thug in the head, instantly knocking him unconscious. "F-fuck you! Gah!" Okay. Alright. That made her feel slightly better, but it didn't deter from the fact that her sanity was slipping.
"Okay so," she held up a finger towards Savage and Stitch, "I'm a fucking lunatic now, right? Totally fine. It's cool. Getting nearly raped on top of your girlfriend dying will do that to you, right? Right? Right." Nat fell back to the ground and pulled her knees into her body, hiding her face from view. Her shoulders were already shaking with painfully muffled sobs.
Vincent suspected as much. The woman was in shock, trembling violently as Stitch worked to put the thugs out of commission. He could understand, despite being desensitized from Stitch's appearance due to twelve years of partnership and friendship, that being physically assaulted and almost sexually assaulted was traumatizing. He could not imagine Amara or Cassie suffering such a thing, the mere thought sending rage into his system. Vincent himself was not a violent man, he was not the killing kind, but the moment that anyone touched his girls...there was a true reason why the media referred to him as Savage.
Laughter burst through the woman, her eyes remained glued to Stitch. Stitch's beady eyes glanced to Vincent's for help. He could tell that the sudden fright from the woman set the creature on edge. Stitch's caring instincts returned to his form, but as he was about to climb off the man that the woman had assisted in knocking out, Vincent held up a single hand, motioning him back. This required a gentle touch, and as much as Vincent loved his beast, he knew that his appearance would not be good on the woman's psyche.
"Miss...I promise we do not mean to hurt you." He bit his lip as he slowly lowered his hood, revealing a messy mop of light, brunette hair. His eyes were covered with a dark shading, ash and specifically some assistance from his wife(although Vincent would never admit this). "You are going to be alright...I know it hurts. You are okay." He slowly kneeled down next to her, cautious not to touch her. He glanced over to her in worry, remaining patient as he held his hands before him. "I can take you home, miss. I will call the authorities and inform this has happened to you. No one else will ever get hurt by them again." His eyes flickered up to see that Stitch placed himself next to Vincent, lying down on all fours, his head set across Vincent's lap. His big, red eyes observed the woman, ears flickering down in worry.
There is so much pain...Vince...make it stop...I did not mean to frighten her...
"It is not your fault buddy." He soothed lightly, brushing Stitch's fur back. "I can assure you you are not crazy. You are safe, I am Savage, and my beast, Stitch. We mean you no harm. We just wish to return you to your home, safe and sound." He stared down at Stitch in his lap, absentmindedly stroking his hand back and forth. "I am sorry you were almost hurt in this way. And I am sorry that you lost someone important to you. I know I cannot fix your sorrow, but at least allow me to assist you. I promise. I only mean the best. Stitch and I only wish to see that you are safe."
"K-kitten..."Stitch cooed lightly, his eyes remained glued upon the woman. This was the same concern Vincent saw in Stitch when he cut himself. When he scraped his skin on purpose. He was desperate. Hopeful all the same.
"I see I have caught both of you at a good time, Savage, Miss Kross." Vincent's head was desperate to turn to view the new voice, but before he decided to do so he pulled his hood back over his head. Once he did get a glimpse at the new arrival, he realized it was an unknown man, dressed in a neat suit. The man went over calmly to Stitch's victims, a smile presented lightly along his face. "Good job, Stitch. Efficient yet...not fatal." His eyes flickered up over to the pair, Stitch's head now raised from Vincent's lap as he began to growl. "No need. Here." The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a dry slab of jerky. Stitch's eyes immediately went wide as the man gently tossed it over. Stitch removed himself from Vincent's lap, sniffing at the food before plopping down happily and gobbling it up in seconds.
"I am sorry, who are you?" Vincent inquired as he grew tense, the man making his way over to Stitch and brushing his hand against his fur. Vincent was in deep shock to see that Stitch had no reaction rather than a negative one.
"That is not important now. What is important is that we need you two to come with me. The city is in dire need, Savage, and we need people like you and Miss Kross to assist."
Kind man. Provides food. Trust.Stitch claimed as he sniffed the man's hand for more food. Surely enough, the man reached in his pocket for one more slice of jerky. Stitch reached up and happily munched upon it, similar to that of a dog who has received a treat.
"The city requires heroes like you, Savage. We are in desperate need. You know of FreakShow, and I am saddened to hear that you had to watch what happened. But you should know, the city is in desperate need of heroes. There is a shortage, and we are attempting to organize a group to handle the criminal behavior. Joining us, our little organization, guarantees you saving women like Miss Kross. More and more people are in need of saving, and it would be an honor to have you with us, Savage. Miss Kross...we know fully well of how capable you are. Your intelligence can be put to good use, to help the city, to prevent another heartbreak from occurring. Letting one more person get home to their loved ones. And...I am glad to inform you that Miss Kimberly is alive, at headquarters. We can take you to her, if you agree to come with me. Savage..." His eyes flickered back and forth between the two, the only sound interrupting the silence was that of Stitch's inhuman purr.
Natalie "Nat" Precious Kross | Location: West Point City Electrical Grid | Interactions: Savage, Stitch & Recruiter
Nat hated crying, yet she did it so much. It never failed to pump her head full of heat and increase the pressure until it threatened to pop. She wanted to dig a six foot deep hole and jump into it, never to come crawling out ever again.
The brunette couldn't quite explain it, but something about a supposed hero and his furry beast companion...thing garnering an eyeful of her pitiful state stung. She could clearly recall how much the forensic team looked down on her when she first joined the precinct; she was undoubtedly the youngest detective to have joined in WPPD history, Detective Yamanashi having been the second. Add that on top of the man's seemingly sudden fondness and favoritism for her--earning respect among her peers proved to be a serious challenge.
But she had owned up to it. Stared down the maws of proverbial dragon and had slayed it with a big ass sword of devotion, the blade sharpened by Quinn's unwavering support. She had established the image of a serious and tenacious detective driven by talent and hard work. She never faltered. She never took her teammates' efforts for granted.
And she never, ever, cried.
Thus, as this realization pierced the fog in her mind, it left a gap for annoyance to come seeping through. She turned sharply at Savage, glaring holes into the man as he sat down next to her. Her chest still felt like it was being gradually crushed by a boa constrictor, inch by inch grinding her lungs into fleshy pink paste. She gnashed her teeth before grumbling lowly, "I'm not going home. You can turn those fuckers in and do whatever, b-...but I'm not done yet."
She beat on her chest in annoyance as a wheeze escaped her. Any other time she begged for a seizure, it refused to come, but now that she was out in the city searching for clues, her body decided to give her hell. Scoffing, he scooted away from Savage as Stitch approached, piercing her soul with those beady red eyes. Jeeeeeesus Christ--this creature gave her goosebumps!
Holding in a fearful squeak, she scurried back onto her feet and wiped the tears furiously. "L-look, I appreciate the help and everything, but I'm fine now." A bitter scoff escaped her. "And I'm just about fucking t-tired of hearing 'I'm sorry'; it doesn't bring her back. Moping around and going home doesn't either. So I'm staying out here and you can't change my mind!"
"I see I have caught both of you at a good time, Savage, Miss Kross."
Like the snapping of a bamboo stick, Nat nearly jumped a foot off the ground before spinning around and adopting a fighting stance. "FUCK WHO IS IT NOW?!" However, as the recruiter continued speaking, her fists lowered and she shook her head in disbelief. Any further words coming out of his mouth were tossed onto the back-burner, barely registering in her mind. Everything after him asking her and Savage to "help the city" went ignored.
She held up a hand. "Nu-uh. No. Nada. Zip. You're out of your mind mister Men in Black reject. I'm not just gonna hop in the car with you. I just got fucking assaulted!" Her head lilted to the side in spiteful sarcasm. "Do you know what that means Mr. Shady? That means I'm staying far away from strangers, especially ones dressed like you and casually carrying around beef jerky like a child-napping pedophile--"
"And...I am glad to inform you that Miss Kimberly is alive, at headquarters. We can take you to her, if you agree to come with me."
A deadly silence enveloped Nat.
...
Three moments which felt like an eternity passed.
...
"Okay." Nat paced over to the dangling pipe. Raising a foot while grabbing it, she snapped it free with a solid kick and marched up to the recruiter like an avenger spat straight out of Hell. "So now you've got the audacity to lie to my face, you sick fuck?!" Her bloodshot eyes were on the onset of tearing up again, a congested sorrow spilling over her words. Her grip on the pipe visibly shook. "Th-this is nothing to...t-to joke about!" she yelled tearfully.
Quincy could not find it within himself to blame the woman as she allowed emotion to outburst. She had been assaulted, rescued by a monster far beyond anyone's imagination, and was now asked to accompany a stranger on a trip to go see her supposedly dead beloved. But, as Quincy very well knew, he needed to do this. Even if it meant being gentle and patient. "It is not my intention to hurt you, Miss Kross. Rather the opposite. I wish to allow you to be protected and to flourish, I promise no harm will come your way. You have Savage and his wondrous beast to protect you." Once again, Quincy's fingers gently skimmed along Stitch's head, who had contently snuggled up to his leg, despite Savage's surprise and seeming disgust. "Um...miss I will have you know that I am not a pedophile, I came equipped with food for Stitch in case of emergency. Call it a precaution, besides, I happen to..." He stopped himself. Quincy told himself he would not go on any unnecessary tangents today and he supposed he should keep to his promise.
Quincy forced himself to remain calm as Miss Kross appeared to be losing her cool, reaching over to the pipe and raising it to Quincy. "I am not lying to you Miss Kross. Quinn Kimberly is safe and alive, she is with us currently and will be waiting at headquarters. Please, if you wish to see her, please be considerate and place the object down. I promise I would not lie to you, specifically not about something like this. And I do understand if you do not believe me. But I can tell you that miss Kimberly has a tattoo upon her left wrist. Upon it reads precious. She has been residing within the abandoned train station since the accident, and has been taken care of by a vigilante, code name Night Owl. Miss Kimberly, Night Owl and another vigilante have been escorted to headquarters by another recruiter. They are there safely, and we can reunite you two as soon as possible. I just ask that you come with me peacefully."
"Sir, how can we be sure to trust you?" Savage asked lightly, his arms crossed as Stitch glanced up to him knowingly. They conversed in growls for a moment or two, leaving Savage somewhat flustered. "I see that Stitch has grown accustomed to you. How will we be sure that you do not have the intent to harm us?" Slowly, Quincy unfurled his ID and handed it to Savage, who inspected it closely. "Okay...mister Daniels. May I ask you one thing?"
"Of course."
"If I do go, may I make a phone call when we get there?" Quincy smiled, as if that question was the most silly inquiry to ever walk the Earth.
"You may call who'd ever you like sir. Now, if that is agreeable, I will guide you two to my vehicle. I believe there is enough room for Stitch in the back..." He scratched the monster's ears, surprised to see the beast's foot trembling in happy response. "Is that alright with you Miss Kross? I promise I will guide you to Quinn as soon as we arrive. And Savage, you may have that phone call. Does this sound agreeable, miss?"
Natalie "Nat" Precious Kross | Location: West Point City Electrical Grid | Interactions: Savage, Stitch & Recruiter
Nat scowled. "Be considerate", he says. What a fucking joke. The gall this man had, just popping up out of nowhere and speaking in a holier than thou tone, talking down to her as if every word he spoke was dipped in gold. It drove a molten dagger of anger through her lungs, burning up the oxygen there until she swore she was spouting fire.
She wanted to clobber him. Right here. Right now. In front of everyone, in front of the so-called hero and his "wondrous" beast. Make them sputter and glare at her like she'd broken a sacred code of society because then, maybe then, she'd stop feeling so guilty for acting this way. If the world saw her as a monstrous bitch rather than a pitiful victim, she'd be expected to strike men like this in the skull.
"I promise I would not lie to you, specifically not about something like this."
Her grip on the pipe tightened, her nose scrunching up with a grimace. "You promise?" she spat. She reared the sharp edge closer to the man's chest, her every being screaming at her to drop the weapon. But she held fast, trembling. "I-I might be some crazy bawling v-violent bitch to you, but I'm not dumb...And I don't f-fall for pretty, empty promises." His sentences were practically copy and pasted from the script everyone around her read from. Over and over and over and over. Redundant after redundant after redundant. And each time, the genuine care dimmed a little more than the last--
"...But I can tell you that miss Kimberly has a tattoo upon her left wrist. Upon it reads precious. She has been residing within the abandoned train station since the accident, and has been..."
Nat tuned out the rest.
No way...There was no way he had said that. But he did. Q-Quinny's tattoo...her tattoo... "O-oh my god..." The pipe fell from her grasp and she cradled herself as if a powerful chill had attacked her body. Her knees threatened to buckle under the unfiltered shock and relief coursing through her. Quinn. Her beloved Quinn. She was alive. She could be alive. And this man could be telling the truth after all.
She couldn't help it.
All of the hope she thought had died sprang to life like a rabbid tigress.
Ignoring his and Savage's conversation, she marched up to him and tightly seized him by the arm. She stared deeply into his shade-shielded eyes, her own overflowing with silent tears, and whispered brokenly, "I-if you're telling th...th-the truth, then please...please..." She swallowed painfully. "Take me to her."
"My promises to you are not empty Miss Kross. I swear my life on it, I am not informing you of such cruel falsehoods." Quincy frowned. He saw no reason to lie to this woman. He would have found another way to convince her to join had her loved one been dead, for this would have only harmed her and forsaken her trust had she realized Miss Kimberly was dead. Quincy was much more intelligent than to do that. Truth was on his side. He just needed to administer it with a gentle touch if he wished to complete his job.
"I am telling the truth, Natalie. She is with us. I would not tell you she was if she was not. That would be foolish and counter productive." Quincy stared down at her in sympathy. He was not familiar with losing a loved one, for the occurrence was so rare and in between, but he knew it hurt. He had seen it upon other's faces. He had experienced losing teammates, and that felt like a bullet being shot through his skull. Null, empty, pain. Those three factors is why he knew he needed to practice caution. The pipe isn't what scared Quincy. It was the broken girl.
"Of course. I will lead you to her. Savage, my dear, won't you please accompany us?" Quincy asked of him kindly, for he had stalled momentarily.
"Of course." Savage claimed, swallowing as Stitch scampered over to his side once more, nuzzling his shoulder. The two seemed to be sharing some sort of conversation, but Quincy did not pay them much mind. He had what he needed, after all.
He lead them to his car, opening the passengers door for Nat and urging Savage with his beast into the back. "I promise this ride will be quick. And if there is any need of you to stop please let me know." Quincy claimed as he placed himself into the driver's seat, shades lifted slightly as he adjusted himself to his car settings. "I curse the fact that Cyrus keeps changing the seat..." He grumbled to himself as he start the car, a smile pulling gently at his lips.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Everything was fuzzy. Imbalanced. Groggy. Swishing gently from side to side, as if she was a sailor stranded in the middle of an endless ocean. It bred nausea in her gut before migrating to rest of her body. She never thought one could feel nausea in their hip bones, their knees, their wrists...but it was there. The sensation was odd, something she had never experienced before. It made her want to vomit up the Chinese Leo worked so hard to get for her...
Wait.
Leo and Jen. Arriving at the train station to meet her. Some man pulling up in a car. A conversation. A needle. Running...And then darkness.
Quinn rolled onto her back with a groan, grimacing as bright lights attacked her from all angles. She slapped a hand over her eyes. "Ugh...fuuuuuck, this is the worst hangover known to man," she grumbled. It took a while for her to gather the Herculean energy needed for peeling her eyes open, but once she did, she immediately cursed under her breath and flipped onto her stomach. The tiles felt cold against her skin. "Jesus christ! Somebody turn off the lights," she whined. She half-expected Colette to bug her about it, to call her out on her griping with griping of her own.
But she didn't. In fact, Colette had been strangely quite. Usually, the French woman would pester and torture Quinn the moment her consciousness flickered back on...Huh. Odd. But still, Quinn wasn't about to question something good. Emitting another groan, she reluctantly peeled herself from the floor and sat, her world still wobbly.
Her...Her surroundings were definitely unfamiliar.
An empty chamber of sorts. Neon blue rods running along the interior, bathing them in a bright glow on both sides. They seemed to produce a low humming sound, very much like a lightsaber when one swung it around. Yes, Quinn was aware of how accurate yet incredibly dorky that analogy was--get off her back. The million dollar question still stood--where in hell was she?
Quinn used the wall for support and stood up. Lips and brow pinched, she tapped the wall. Very solid, barely an echo. So, the walls were thick. What kind of facility were they in? It was pretty chilly in here too, but she failed to notice any vents. Then again, maybe the cooling system was super high-tech like this room. If it wasn't...heightened elevation could mean lowered temperatures, if she recalled correctly. What was it Nat called it again? Adiabatic Lapse Rate? Yeah, that sounded right. Point was, maybe the building had an impressive stack of floors to it and they were located towards the top.
"O...kayyy," Quinn mumbled uncertainly. "Super high tech prison cell. Colette's quiet as holy hell. Possibly in a skyscraper...Don't fucking tell me."
The blonde immediately wanted to smash her head into the wall.
It was now clicking into place. That fucker in the suit. His request for him to follow back to WPHO Headquarters. This definitely had to be the place; it couldn't have been anywhere else. Quinn dragged both hands down her face, finally taking notice of Leo and Jen laying unconscious near her. Ah...fuck.
Rolling her eyes, Quinn knelt next to both of them and shook their shoulders.
"Rise and shine, fellow prisoners," she said bitterly. Of course, she knew that they didn't deserve the sass and sarcasm, but she couldn't help it. Nothing about her life could go right, not ever since that damned explosion.
Jennifer did not recall drinking the night before, leaving a space behind as to why her entire body succumbed to a dull grogginess. There were only two places she recognized this horrid feeling, the first night she had decided to drink more than was healthy for her, the second...This had to have been similar to the time where she got two hours of sleep. Surely...she went in for cuddles and woke up too early. Yet the floor underneath her was cold, hard. Her eyes fluttered open and she squinted, the heavy light painful to glance at. She groaned, swiftly screwing her eyes shut as she brushed her hand over her face.
"Last night must have been insane..." She mused, reverting to the language she would use when Jonah was in town. She swallowed, having now only understood how wonderful it was to have Jonah's embraces. That was a bizarre, she always took her siblings for a light granite, why was she so worried about this...
It came back to her in a flood, blinding her in momentary pain. The agent. Shoving her gun in his mouth. Daring her to kill him. Her finger against the trigger...A shot going into her shoulder. She almost expected to feel blood trickle down her shoulder, to find bandaging there. She skimmed her fingertips along her shoulder to feel none of those things, throbs exploding across her body at the motion. Nothing. She must have been sedated rather than shot. She supposed she should have been grateful she hadn't been hit with a bullet, at the same time...
She was ashamed she did not receive punishment for not being able to protect Leo and Quinn. Here they were...in some god awful cell... She forced her eyes opened and blinked several times to get used to her surroundings, a groan emitting from her lips. She felt as if someone had driven a screwdriver through her skull. Or that she wanted someone to do the action for her.
"Quinn?" She inquired uncertainly as she felt her shoulder being shook, anger replacing the confusion and fear. "Oh...oh fucking a..." She grumbled, propping herself on her elbows, then slowly attempting to make her way to her feet. She swayed, having to lean on one of the cell walls for support. She could not make much of this room, other than...
The desire within her was gone. The desire she had felt when she was ten years old. The desire she felt when she wished to defend herself. It was gone. She attempted to reach out, split open the pocket dimension...
Nothing. She felt as if a part of her had been ripped from her body. Not quite innocence, not quite her empathy...but pride. Her confidence in her ability to survive in her surroundings. To...to be able to do her job efficiently. The anger began to bubble into fury.
Her hands clenched into fists and she began to smash her knuckles into the walls, over and over....feeling her skin swell with the promise of a bruise. "Fuck...fuck fuck..." She grimaced as the pain continued, but she did not stop. "They...they have to let us out sometime...and when they do I...I'll wring his fucking neck..." Her eyes flickered back briefly and she slowly lowered her fist back to her side, her nails clutching into the fabric of her jeans. "Oh...we have to get out of here." She inspected the room, surprised to see that there was a visible door, but as to be expected, there did not appear to be a way to break through, to use a hair clip. She grit her teeth, cheeks red with rage.
"Have any ideas?" She inquired, hopelessly as she began to scratch at her thigh.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen & Leo
Quinn watched as Jen evolved from mildly annoyed into flat out murderous, and the finally to flipping her shit. The sight of her banging her fists on the wall, ultimately harming herself rather than solving the problem, made a grimace twist the blonde's lips. She suffered sympathy phantom pains, her skull aching with the sense memory of smacking her own skull into concrete. Pounding. Brain rattling. Threatening to smack against the interior of bone. Lights flashing behind her eyelids and vomit bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Over and over and over and over...
It was a hysteria unlike anything she ever imagined, and to see Jen approaching that edge of no-return stirred anxiety within Quinn. "Hey!" she called out in exasperation. "Hurting yourself and banging on the damn walls like a madwoman won't help. Seriously, you're just gonna hurt yourself and feel dumb afterwards. I know." She huffed and blew a strand of blonde out of her eyes. Seriously though. How in the fuck were they supposed to get out of here--
Tap, tap, tap...tap, tap. ta-tap, tap, tap. Tap... "...Leo...What the fuck are you doing?" Quinn asked in clear bafflement. Leo, the wise and loving man that had taken care of her for nearly a month, was sitting cross-legged and tapping away at the wall, his eyes wide and intensely focused. There seemed to be a lack of...awareness in his gaze, as if he hadn't registered his predicament like she and Jen had. His tapping didn't have a distinct pattern. No Morse Code or anything of the sort. Just random and erratic.
"Okay. You know what? I don't wanna know..." Quinn massaged her temples. Why her? Why now? This entire situation was fucked. When Jen asked if she had any ideas, Quinn heaved another sigh while sweeping back her wild bangs. "Honestly? No. Not a single one. Judging by the freaky sci-fi look of this cell from hell, I'd say there's something about it that's screwing with us. I can't hear Colette and Leo's..." her gaze briefly flickered over to the man, who was still tapping, "Well, occupied. I assume something's up with you too. Point is, it took something away from us or suppressed it. This has got to be a special room."
Quinn tapped the wall. "Hear that? Solid and dense. Really closed off and reserved. There's no telling how much shit they've got around this room and powering it. And it's cold as holy hell in here. High elevation. We're on a grand daddy top floor somewhere."
Jennifer found that her fists began to throb as she forced them down to her sides, her countenance twisting in a grimace as Quinn catching her in the act. She should have very well figured that Quinn was going to stop her, considering she had harmed herself mere...hours? Minutes? Jennifer could not tell the time, throwing her off her usual balance. She needed to force herself to adapt, but the room...three people. Small. Leo in danger. Quinn in danger. Had it been Jennifer alone in the room, knowing that she was the only one in the line of danger...She would have sat center of the room. Planned. Waited for the door to open. Strike if she could. Keep her relaxed disposition. But now...
Her responsibilities were stuffed in this godforsaken room with her. She didn't have her abilities, which is something that she had relied on for for sixteen years. Her nails dug deeper into the fabric of her jean, surprised to see that she had managed to pierce through. She grimace, clenching her fists so that her nails dug into her palms instead. She forced herself not to grimace. Leo's tapping did manage to distract herself from the dull pain, her pierced skin raw and screeching at Jennifer to release her grip. She grit her teeth, wondering what had happened with her querido. He...He was never like this. Jennifer would have assumed that Leo would have gotten up, calmed the two women, and talk them through possible solutions.
But there he sat. Tapping. Tapping...Shock? Did the weapon the man used against him cause brain trauma? Her brow furrowed. That...she figured that couldn't be the case. She prayed it wasn't the case. "Querido, are you okay?" She inquired softly, forcing herself to tone into Quinn's reasoning.
"I can't open any pockets. They have to be using something, considering Leo wasn't knocked out like us two, so it is not the drugs. But...how could they do this?" Jennifer's brow furrowed. If she could figure out the technology used in this room, she could try and break it. But the question was, how, where, and would it possibly backfire.
As Jennifer knew, the answer was yes.
"Okay. They built this room specifically for...people like us." This unsettled her. This meant they had planned ahead of time if they had to use force against the heroes. A pit grew in her stomach. Her guess is, with how dense, how well built, and how well clean this room was...
This room wasn't just built for them. There could have been other...people. Other people in here. Villains? People that pissed off Evermore? Would Jennifer been thrown in there had she crossed paths again? That amused her, yet horrified her still.
"Wait...that man. He needed to recruit us. He is going to come back here at some point. When I don't know, but when he does, we can strike at him. I saw his abilities...he's a fucking creepy Rumpelstiltskin. Break himself into two. We'd have to be prepared for that..." Her eyes glassed over as she recalled him screaming at her to pull the trigger.
Do it! Do it!
Jennifer grimaced. "And because Leo is out of commission, it's just you and me Quinn. If he comes in here, we need to have a plan of attack. A plan of escape." She knew there were bound to be more people than just him. But she had to take this one step at a time. If they could get out of the room, they had their powers. That could get them somewhere.
Quinn Bonnibel Kimberly | Location: Nullification Chamber | Interactions: Jen & Leo
"He better freaking come back," Quinn scoffed while shoving her hands into her pockets, kicking grumpily at the wall. She wasn't exactly claustrophobic, but even she was starting to get antsy while cooped up in this stupid cell. She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. "So he like, duplicates and stuff? Good. More of his fucking face to punch. But...we're just stuck waiting then, huh," she realized while sighing in exasperation.
"Gawwwwwd this suuuuuucks!" the blonde whined while stomping over to a solitary corner, resting her head in the metallic crook as she focused on storing away as much patience as she could. She wanted to go home, so fucking bad. She just wanted Nat's hugs and kisses and adorkable sciencey rambles. Was that too much? Sighing softly, she forced herself to face Jen again, her lips pinching pensively.
"A gameplan, huh..." She scratched the back of her head, one eye narrowed as she rattled her tired, abused brain for ideas. Quinn was never one for strategy and planning things, that was always Nat's powerhouse. But still...maybe, hopefully, she could try to emulate the technological genius a little?
...Fuck it. It wouldn't hurt to try...well, not too much. It might harm her innate laziness a little.
"Well, I mean, so the dude splits in half and makes copies, right? So, like, cell replication or whatever? We just gotta figure out a way make him...stop...reproducing...?" she trailed off uncertainly, already feeling idiotic. Okay, alright, she admitted it--she was nowhere near smart enough for this. Why in the hell did she think she could measure up to Nat's intelligence? Heat rushing to her face, she groaned behind her hands and slid down to the floor, already tasting defeat on the back of her tongue.
Dumb. Stupid. Embarrassing as hell. And never again.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
Leo was now banging on the wall, a thrilled smile splitting his cheeks. It wasn't with enough force to hurt himself, but the sound definitely traveled throughout the chamber. He had failed to register Jen's question. A jovial giggle escaped him before the banging sped up in tempo.
"Dude!" Quinn yelled angrily, her temples pounding from the noise. "Give it a break--"
"Ahhhh!" Leo suddenly yelled back at the top of his lungs.
