#clawing at the bars of my enclosure to reach him
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posting another johnny edit bcs i still Can
#clawing at the bars of my enclosure to reach him#sparkly man to kool and the gang bcs !!#johnny gage#emergency!#1970s
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*clawwing at the ground* *gritting my teeth* *foaming at the mouth* *shaking bars of enclosure rapidly*
I FUCKING LOVE HIM oh my LORD no one No ONE has ever made me feel so feral... GETO SUGURU is THE Waifu for LIFEU-
*wheezing and gasping* *reaching* *violently thrashes around* *rips shirt open* *gets on hands and knees*
BABYGIRL GIVE ME STRENGTH
I can't. I CANT! He's everything to me if Geto came into my life and asked me to forfeit all mortal possession to him, I WOULD because he DESERVES IT
He could slap me and call me a monkey (i wouldn't be happy about it) but id be okay with it.
*DEEPEST INHALE*
aaaaAAAAAA A AAAAAAA AA A A A A A
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the old Hollywood au makes me want to rattle the bars of my enclosure like coco the gorilla so 6 and 19 for the old Hollywood gang?
interrogate me about my characters
goddammit you know how this gets my motor runnin!!!!!!
6. THEIR VICES (PHYSICAL OR EMOTIONAL)
steve harrington is a semi functional alcoholic with a fully functional penis that rarely gets hard these days without the help of a little playful roughhousing aka he loves getting hit in the face sexual style by women, especially unassuming women such as…
beadie pike, who likes playing human dress up but even better if her life sized dolls whimper when she harmlessly pricks them with a sewing pin. she loves a man who’s good about letting her tie him to his carved mahogsny four poster bed and letting her take control. she also loves caramels!
eddie munson (as in every universe) likes to be swept off his feet and treated a little special. even a country boy like him can turn a taste for the finer things in life, like caviar and blowjobs from flappers with double barrelled names.
pidge sterling likes guns, moonshine, cocaine and semi-public fornication (sometimes with blowjob giving flappers and company), otherwise known as puttin’ on the ritz. she’s a company man.
19. PEOPLE WHO THEY’VE HURT OR INDIRECTLY KILLED AND HOW IT AFFECTED THEM
steve harrington has three ex wives to his young name and sends them all extravagant easter baskets every year (always easter, for the nonsensical reason that christmas or valentines is too gauche), but nothing makes up for the fact that he was a bastard that became more and more evasive with each trip up the aisle. the flowers wilt, the fruit rots, yet each year he sends maude, dorothy and norma a weak but genuine attempt at an apology. like his father used to do. steve is not quite so low that he’d attempt to send one to his mother—the harrington estate must be full of them by now.
beadie pike still sees her family every sunday for tea, even if she doesn’t go to church with them. she lies and says that the studio keeps her at such strange hours that she attends a different service in west hollywood, and watches her sister bounce a baby on her knee, a baby that doesn’t belong to her. beadie brings her mother scarves of silk stolen from the wardrobe department in the hopes that she’ll look her in the eye again one day, but a woman of god will not be swayed by frills of vanity.
eddie munson doesn’t think much about the people he’s shot in the swinging wind of grand railroad larceny, except with the booze runs out and the night becomes thin and the car doesn’t tear fast enough through the arid valley he sometimes rides through. he knows this is a new lease on life, in the eternal sunshine of los angeles, but he’s still paying off an old lease in kentucky. each week, eddie tucks a quarter of his steadily growing pay check into an envelope bound for kentucky, addressed to wayne munson, care of allen munson and hopes the money doesn’t liquify into hooch before it reaches his ailing uncle’s hands. it’s the least eddie can do, stealing away into the night like that, all those years ago.
pidge sterling wonders if her family blame her for her late ex-husband’s demise. it’d be easy to—died of a broken heart after she left, or more accurately almost drowned face down in his own claw foot bathtub under mysterious circumstances. it would’ve been easy for his family to pin it on her too, but the fact that sterling senior is a district attorney probably made them reconsider. but, he survived, if now non-verbal and confined to a sick bed for the rest of his days. pidge knows the depth and extent of what a disappointment she is; not only an embarrassment to her family having left this once fine man, but a tragedy following it, seeing what became of him. that small, pathetic line of thinking makes pidge wish she had killed him. at least then her family could demonise her for something that was actually her fault, not something that was done to her within the confines of marriage.
#powder room talk#decreations#WOW shoutout to the fact that this is the first thing I’ve written that I’ve liked in ages LOL#steve harrington#eddie munson#beadie pike#pidge sterling#e. munson by powder#s. harrington by powder#burn like nitrate
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The Mayor
Part 3
“We start this evenings broadcast with shocking news from town hall. This morning at roughly 8:30 our dear Mayor was killed by none other than Doc Ock. Luckily for us though he is behind bars thanks to the efforts of Y/n L/n, who is now being sworn into office.” The camera showed the procedure and Y/n in a new outfit. A blue dress that fir her quite well. Otto couldn’t stand it. He had only been in prison for a few hours and he already hated his life more than before. He was drugged up and his machine felt much heavier than it used to, he had next to no control of his body. His only way to see the world was through a small grainy TV that was posted in the corner of his cell.
His cell was incomprehensibly unfitting for a man such as himself. An old bed that left a crick in his neck. A toilet which he thankfully hadn’t needed to use yet. And a small table in the corner with the even smaller TV. The walls of his cell were unbreakable. Some material he didn’t know the name of surrounded the outside of it. He could chip at the concrete but the outside wouldn’t budge. Somehow he was sure you had funded the building of this cell. Just to spite him. The TV showed you suddenly and his attention was drawn back,
“It was terrifying to be in the clutches of such a lunatic. I did what anyone would do, if only I could’ve done more to save our dear Mr Thomas. May he rest in peace.” What a load of shit, he thought. You had fooled the people just like you had fooled him,
“What will happen to Doc Ock?” Y/n brushed her hair out of her face and looked directly into the camera,
“After I visit him tomorrow, he’ll be getting what he deserves. I demand justice for the death of Mayor Thomas.” People clapped in the background and Otto shut off the TV trying to get some sleep. He dreamed of you and this morning. He dreamed of how he wished it went.
The rain pouring down over the both of you as he held you close. You’d look up at him and pull him in close kissing him softly and thanking him for saving the city. For saving you. His hands would wrap around your waist and he’d carry you back to your apartment and you two would dry off and have a romantic dinner together. Sharing your plans for the future of New York....
He awoke with a start. Some guard yelling at him to get up. Groaning he lifted himself from the bed and walked sluggishly towards the door. A series of clicks and other strange noises come from the other side of the wall before the door swung open. Being handcuffed yet again he was led to a glass enclosure. This is miserable, he thought. They’re treating me like an animal. He was sealed inside the glass and felt cool air conditioning by his feet. A large vent blowing freezing air and making the space breathable. It woke him up a bit. The effects of whatever they injected slowly wearing off. One of his claws knocked on the glass, no damage. He couldn’t just break out either, there were guards all over the entire prison. When the door opened again he scowled. You looked tiny compared to the metal door and waltzed in as if you were an old friend. You wore a long pale pink coat and black gloves finished off with a black ascot. You looked unbearably cute but knew what you really were,
“What do you want L/n?”
“I listen to the people, and they demanded I see you to know you’re reasoning for killing a public figure.” Slamming his fist against the glass he stared you down,
“I did it because you told me to, you crazy bitch.” You nodded in agreement pulling off your gloves gingerly and setting them in your pocket,
“And I did it because you made it easy, if you had been smarter I might’ve avoided you and picked someone else to help me.” His appendages moved like protective snakes behind him.
“Did you come here just to mock me?” You got closer to the glass tilting your head to see his expression he looked distant. It made you a little sad,
“I don’t want you to rot here in prison. Because despite all that I’ve said...” You cleared your throat,
“The greatest thrill and joy I’ve had so far was the short time I worked alongside you.” He met your eyes and did nothing for awhile. Then he just sighed and turned away from you,
“I can’t deal with this right now.” You frowned and stepped back,
“Fine. I understand you don’t exactly like or trust me. But if there’s anything I can do...just let me know.” God! You really were confusing. One minutes you’re kissing, then you have him thrown in jail and now you’re asking about doing him favors? What are you trying to do to this poor mans head?
“Tell the guards to give me some time before they take me back to my cell.”
—————POV CHANGE—————
He hears the door close and looks around before using one of his metal arms to pry the top off the air vent. He wasn’t going to fit through it but he could tear up the floor around it to make him fit. And that’s exactly what he did. While you told the guards to give him time and to treat him better than other prisoners the doctor was wondering through the giant vents. His brain felt sharp and alert again. So did his tentacles, a flicker of red warned him to stop but he wouldn’t, not when he’s gotten this far. Finally he found a vent to a control room. He burst through the ceiling and killed both the guards. He sat at the computer and began typing. Y/n was going to regret this. With a few clicks and the push of a button all cell doors, outside doors, and gates were unlocked. He’ll had been released and so had New York’s greatest super villains. The city would be chaos and with the record for shortest office time ever, Y/n would be kicked out and replaced. Maybe the new shmuck in charge would know how to handle the city. Leaving the room he flew down the halls. His tentacles taking him to the personal belongings room. Searching the drawers he found what he was looking for. Grabbing his jacket and glasses he exited the building (cue epic music). Walking over crowds of anyone from petty thefts to fellow evil doers he stepped into the freshly fallen snow. It was around noon, by nightfall this place would be a wreck. He saw your car leave the parking lot. His tentacles took over, the flashing red now bright and constant. One grabbed the car while another ripped the door off. He heard your screaming from inside and did nothing to hide the joy spreading across his face. Your face paled when you saw who had wrecked your car and you pushed yourself as far away as you could. He got closer to the car and looked in the gaping hole on the side. You were shaking against the door on the opposite side. A limb reached in and wrapped around her neck. She closed her eyes expecting the worst. But the machine only untied her ascot from her neck and tied it around her mouth. She tried to scream again but it was muffled by the gag. Then ripping leather from the interior of the car it was tied tightly around her wrists and ankles. Pulling her into the cold air she shook her head,
“I think it’s time Brooklyn sees the type of leader you really are. Let’s have some fun.” His voice was different now. Dark and clever. The wreckage of downtown broke your heart. Historical buildings destroyed or burned down. Hundreds of not thousands of criminals on the streets. Between the speed you were going at and the ice in your eyes they all looked like blurs. The wind stopped whipping at your face, you couldn’t see what was behind you but you could tell where you were. The bank, of course. It was hard to process everything. Eventually you stopped trying and just laid across his shoulder. Setting you down he demanded the bank teller open all the safes,
“If you don’t, I’ll break every bone in her body. One by one. When I’m done she’ll be so deformed her own mother won’t recognize her.” The teller scrambled with the keys and began unlocking everything. He laughed and began bagging what looked the most valuable,
“I hope you know this is very much your fault.” He smiled at you. The sinking in your stomach only went deeper. When he finished he picked you up once more like a rag doll and exited the building. Crushing the ceiling on the way out,
“Where shall we go? The city is ours.” He said nothing but got a devious glint in his eyes before taking you back through downtown. He stopped in front of your apartment. How did he know where you lived? When you entered the building it was like a ghost town. No employees or lobby boys. Only the distant sounds of chaos and the ding of the elevator as you ride it up to the top floor. Thankfully he didn’t know which exact apartment belonged to you. He set you down and you pointed to a door near the end of the hall. He didn’t bother to pick you back up or untie your feet so you could walk. He just dragged you behind him along the carpet while he talked about the design of the building. He stopped in front of your door. His human hands found their way to your waist. You tried to wiggle away from him but he reached down. You sighed when you realized he was only getting the keycard from your pocket.
You apartment was cold. He set you on the couch and began trying to light a fire in your fireplace,
“You have a lovely place, sure know how to use the tax payers money huh?” He let his jacket fall to the floor, revealing his bare chest. He must’ve been cold outside without a shirt on. He was out of sight and into your kitchen. He came back with a bottle of wine and a large glass. He left your hands tied but undid the restraints around your ankles and mouth. Taking a deep breath in you went to yell at him. Before you could you were pulled into his lap. Switching the TV on he shushed you and ran a hand down your back making you shiver,
“Is it the end times? Citizens of New York are wondering what is happening? Mere hours after Mayor L/n is elected the city falls into destruction. On her trip to visit Doc Ock it’s believed he escaped and freed the other prisoners. Riots, fires, building destroyed and collapsed in what’s possibly New York’s worst day yet.” The camera switched to different people getting interviewed,
“It’s terrible! I’m afraid to leave my home!”
“I knew we shouldn’t have elected a woman.”
“I heard she was working with the Doctor the entire time!” Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t reach the remote, and if you tried to get up he’d just pull you right back down. Guilt was the main emotion, but you felt some resentment as well. These people knew nothing! You were tricked... kinda, not really. But you never intended for this mess to happen. Karma had finally caught up with you. The people on the news kept taking and talking. You couldn’t take it anymore,
“Turn it off! Please!” Otto shrugged and changed the channel to a hockey game,
“Is all the pressure getting to you, Mayor?” His hand was resting on your thigh while the other held his wine glass. You wanted desperately to shower and go to bed. To wake up in a different dimension where nothing ever happened. The room became unbearably hot. You weren’t sure wether it was the fireplace or the guilt (or maybe something else),
“Could you untie my hands please? I’d like to get out of my coat.” You got off his lap and stuck your hands out for him to untie,
“Last time I trusted you, you and me thrown in jail. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to untie my hands.” He stood up and began slowly uniting them. He watched you intensely as you took your coat off. Turning away from his gaze you walked into your bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You were a strong powerful leader who was going to get out of this mess....somehow.
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Playing with Fire (18+ GT Drama / Horror)
Premise: Sequel to Heart of Gold. Sherry navigates a vicious life teeming with cruel and lustful giants eager to get their hands on her. The only lifeline within reach is the person who sealed her fate.
Warning: Graphic descriptions of sexual assault, violence, and dehumanization in a GT context. This is not intended to be fetish material; commenting on it as such will result in an immediate block.
Print/Trinket Universe and characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 / @little-miss-maggie, who made the sick header image <3
(( Read Heart of Gold here ))
(( More from the Print/Trinket Universe ))
"I already told you, I'm done. Delete my number."
"One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now."
"What'd you do this time?"
"I just... I need you here. Please. I know how we left things. I understand if you never wanna see me again, but I need your help. This is the last time I'll ever bother you, I swear."
Tears drenched Sherry's face. Her attempts to drift away from her current hell led her down the most miserable memories. She wasn't sure which was worse: revisiting the moment she ruined her life, or being present enough to confront her ruined life.
A voice huffed overhead, forcing her to choose the latter. "Stop crying already. Fuck."
But Sherry couldn't stop. She didn't have a clue what was happening or why. All she knew was that she was pinned to a cold metal table while a human woman tried to fit a gold collar over her head.
Agent Taylor. That was what her badge said.
The cabinet doors had flown open at Zane's place, and the reaper's cold eyes had filled the space. Her grasping hands wrecked the makeshift shelter while she thwarted Sherry and Adam's pitiful attempts to bolt out of reach. They had been dumped into a glass cage and then separated before they reached their final destination.
Adam was nowhere to be seen. Was he being forced into a collar somewhere else? And what about Odessa? She had not been caged with them. Maybe because she had been captured by a different reaper.
"Please," Sherry whimpered, twisting her head side to side to avoid the collar. "W-what are you doing? Why am I here?"
Taylor wound Sherry's teal hair around one fingertip and tugged so sharply that Sherry screamed. The back of her head slammed against the table, making the world turn fuzzy. She squinted through the blinding fluorescent lights to see the reaper's annoyed expression hanging over her.
"Stop squirming, or I'll snap your pretty little neck, you hear me?" Taylor looked down at her with disgust. "I don't have a clue why Mitchell insisted on keeping a whiner like you, but you should be grateful. The best thing a trinket can hope to be is a snake."
"A-A... what?"
Fingertips viciously groped Sherry's neck until she held still enough for the perfect gold circle to slip over her head. The invasive hands pulled away finally. Panting, Sherry sat up and felt her collar all around, intending to yank it off. Impossibly, it retracted to a smaller size and settled snugly around her neck. There was no clasp to be found. Smart metal—the kind that was used on tracking cuffs for prints. Since when was such expensive material used on trinkets?
Feeling like she couldn't draw a full breath, Sherry whimpered and clawed at the collar. She felt the thin engraving of an inscription etched along the metal, but she was not interested in deciphering it.
"Don't bother." A hand swept Sherry into a fist, pinning her arms awkwardly against her body. "Mess with it too much, and it'll choke you out before you can even think to regret it."
Sherry trembled in the woman's grasp—not only from fear, but from the shock of being handled so roughly. She had been spoiled by Zane's consideration and careful touches, even if he had turned out to be a lying bastard in the end. Hours ago, she had felt like a real person, and already it seemed like a fever dream to ignore what she really was.
Trinket. Criminal. Doll. Prisoner.
She was whisked out of the small, blinding room and taken into what appeared to be the main hub of a police station. Sherry shivered harder than ever. The giants typing away at computers and chatting around the desks were not regular cops. These were reapers, government agents specifically tasked with the repossession of wayward prints and trinkets.
Although she fit the category of wayward trinket, she figured she would have been shipped straight to a facility to be redistributed to another bar. Maybe a brothel as punishment for her misguided attempts to be rescued by the rebellion. Why was she still here?
"New snake?" boomed an unfamiliar voice. A reaper passing by Agent Taylor eyed Sherry like a choice cut. She shrank away from his stare, which only seemed to encourage him. He stopped to reach out and brush a finger over her hair. "Where'd you nab this one?"
"Some barfly who can't get his story straight about whether he's black market or rebellion." Taylor made no move to thwart the other reaper from lifting Sherry's chin to see her tear-soaked face better. "Either way, the truth will come out. We got taped confirmation about a meet-up tomorrow at noon."
The guy whistled, finally pulling his hand away. "A confession and a follow-up location? Lemme guess. Odessa?"
"Who else?"
The mention of Odessa's name made Sherry perk up, but the conversation ended before she could make sense of what had been said. She'd been too preoccupied about being petted like a captive mouse.
Taylor took her to the center of the station. What Sherry saw made her stomach churn. A glass labyrinth of trinket-sized rooms sat atop a huge table. There were faint lines of translucent circuits within the walls that suggested it was no ordinary glass. There was no ceiling on the enclosure, as though a pet store had decided to set up shop in the middle of the government establishment.
"Welcome home," Taylor said derisively. "For however long you last. We call this the Warren."
The longer Sherry stared at the enclosure, the sicker she felt. There were over a dozen rooms. The walls offered no privacy, other than one cubicle that had sheets thrown up over the sides for some reason—but it still lacked a ceiling. There were doorways, but no doors. None of the openings provided a path onto the table. No exits. The only way a trinket could leave was if a human plucked them out.
Sherry was released into one of the cubicles, which looked like a rough draft of a bedroom. She backed up against the wall, shivering. She eyed the doorway, but with a reaper glaring down at her, there was no point in making a run for it. Her trembling legs were hard to convince.
Blessedly, Agent Taylor turned her attention to a tablet that lay beside the Warren and tapped away at it. "Name?"
Flinching, Sherry clutched her hands close to herself and stared up blankly.
"Tell me a name, or I'll pick one for you." Taylor's eyes flickered to her. "You look like a 'Diva' to me."
"Sh—" She swallowed a sob. "Sherry."
Taylor made a noise of ridicule under her breath. Perhaps like Zane, she didn't believe that was her real name and that it was really what she had been saddled with when being passed around at a bar. Whatever she thought, the reaper typed something into the tablet. Circuits along the wall flickered, and Sherry's name appeared in translucent letters on the wall by the doorway. It was then she noticed that the other rooms had names, too. The one across from hers was Raquel.
Despite her best judgment, Sherry couldn't keep her mouth shut.
"Tell me what's happening," she said, hating the pathetic note of pleading in her voice. "Please. I... I don't understand."
She had never begged as a trinket. Not at the facility. Not at the bar. Not when she was worried that Zane's impossibly gentle touch was fake. But she had been able to make some sense out of those situations. For the life of her, she could not pinpoint what she had done to end up in the Warren with Agent Taylor leering down at her.
The reaper, forthcoming as ever, gave her a barbed smirk. "Do a good job, and you'll be rewarded. Do a shitty job, and you'll be at the mercy of that new necklace of yours. Do a particularly shitty job, and you won't even get that mercy. We'll leave you to the wolves to do as they please. Simple as that."
There was nothing simple about it.
Agent Taylor tossed the tablet onto the table and strode off without telling Sherry what her job was.
For a few minutes, Sherry couldn't do more than stand in one spot while her thoughts reeled. The moment it sank in that nothing stopped her from walking through the doorway of her assigned room, she stepped out. The glass walls were so clean, she might have walked right into a few if not for the pale circuits within.
She came across three other trinkets in her tentative exploration of the Warren. None were helpful. A couple of them were sleeping in their own rooms, and one was sitting on the floor in a central hub area.
He stared up at a news channel playing on a wallscreen that was embedded into the glass. Sherry didn't even realize they made screens so miniature, let alone that there were any systems in place that allowed trinkets to use them. It felt like a twisted, sanitized version of Zane's makeshift trinket hideout.
"Hi?" Sherry said, her voice thready. She stopped a few feet from him. No, inches. Inches. "Can you tell me what's going on here? What is this place? W-what do they want with us?"
He didn't look away from the screen. Didn't say a word.
"Hello? Can you hear me? Please... I-I have no idea—"
"You'll figure it out," he grunted. "Or maybe you won't. We don't bother each other around here, I'll tell you that much." He gave her a razor-sharp glance that told her it was time to stop bothering him.
She retreated back to her room and hugged herself on the bed. That's all there was. No pillow, no sheets. She had glimpsed a few other rooms. Most were fairly simple, but others were adorned with extra accommodations. More pillows, thicker blankets, extra furniture, a box packed with clothes. A couple even had their own wallscreens.
All around the outside the Warren, the reaper station went on business as usual. Footsteps thudded back and forth past the enclosure, but despite Sherry's instinct to duck down out of sight, no one seemed to give the trinkets more than a passing glance. As if the glass cage was no more out of place than a light fixture.
Although intense confusion continued to plague her thoughts, her adrenaline waned and exhaustion crept in. She absently felt along her collar to trace the letters and numbers. C117.
Without realizing she had curled up on her side, she fell into a fitful sleep.
She couldn't be sure how long she had laid there by the time heavy footsteps rattled the floors and walls, closer than before. Sherry jolted in bed, but she kept her head down. She debated on whether it would be a better idea to sit up or pretend to be asleep. A shiver ran through her at the thought that a person was towering over the Warren, looking down at her.
A familiar voice silenced her internal debate—a voice that didn't belong to a massive reaper.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know."
Odessa.
Sitting up, Sherry almost tripped over her own feet as she scrambled for the doorway. She gripped the glass edge and looked high up. The reaper who had approached was still there. A cold spike of recognition ran through Sherry as she examined his icy blue eyes and dark hair. He had raided Zane's place along with Agent Taylor. Currently, he held Odessa in a fist and glared at her.
"Well, someone must have tipped them off," he snapped. "We've gone over the recording a dozen times—there's nothing left up to interpretation. A distributor was supposed to be there at noon. Are you sure there wasn't some change of plan? Did he ever look at his phone as if he received a message? Because I'm still feeling pretty fucking suspicious about how long it took for you to boot up your tracker."
Despite being trapped in a gigantic grip, Odessa didn't cower. That was strange. She had been so skittish around Zane, and here this reaper was raising his voice at her.
"I wouldn't have gotten the confession at all if you all had busted in any earlier," Odessa spat. "It's not my fault the distributor didn't show up. Maybe some neighbor spotted Zane being arrested and passed the info along. Could be that you all weren't subtle enough. Instead of asking me, why don't you ask Zane?"
The reaper scoffed. "Haven't been able to get another word out of him. He's already on the docket for trial. Let's see if he's so quiet during his follow-up interrogation at three inches tall."
The hand holding Odessa plunged and deposited her in a nearby hall of the Warren. Overwhelmed by the appearance of a friendly face, Sherry bottled from her doorway. Seconds after the hand retreated, she flung her arms around Odessa and held on tight.
"I'm so glad you're okay!" Sherry gasped.
Odessa stiffened, but after a moment, she hugged Sherry back. "It's okay," she said softly. "Everything's going to be okay."
"I-I thought I'd be alone here. I heard what Zane said about being with the black market. I knew it. But they won't tell me what's going on here! What are they making you do? Zane just barely got you last night—how can they expect you to know anything about what he was up to?"
A laugh boomed from above, effectively reminding Sherry that they were being watched. She cowered, but Odessa seemed more annoyed than frightened as she held Sherry close. The glare she aimed upward looked like it had been bred in a blizzard.
"Oh, that's just precious," the reaper said, bracing his hands on the table to lean down closer to them. "You sure picked a bright one, didn't you, Odessa? Poor thing hasn't even put two and two together, has she?"
Sherry looked from his looming face to Odessa's icy expression. "What's he talking about?" Sherry asked.
Odessa sighed. "Let me explain—"
"Allow me," the reaper laid in overtop. The cruel amusement in his eyes should have been reserved for a kid frying ants with a magnifying glass. "Sherry, is it? Well, Odessa is the reason you were dragged from that cute little hideaway in the cupboard. I mean, if we hadn't stepped in, you'd be up for bid on the black market. But still. You were rounded up thanks to our expert two-faced bitch here. I suggest you start thinking of her as your new role model if you want to make it through your first week."
Sherry's desperate arms went slack. She wriggled out of Odessa's protective embrace. "He's... he's lying," Sherry said. "Tell me he's lying!"
But Odessa did not attempt to deny any of it. Fury and a sense of utter loneliness exploded through Sherry so violently that she nearly collapsed. Spotting this, Odessa caught her arms and kept her standing despite Sherry's protests.
"Fuck off, Mitchell," Odessa snarled. "Why don't you go figure out the Zane situation before the captain mounts your head on the wall?"
Agent Mitchell was still chuckling as he straightened to his full, dizzying height. "Better start explaining things to her quick. She'll be out in the field before you know it."
Odessa locked her hand in Sherry's and led her away. Still in shock, Sherry allowed herself to be taken. There was a room with Odessa's name displayed on the outside. If Sherry had only explored a little further, she would have saved herself a few precious moments of humiliation. Even more mind-boggling, this was the room with sheets thrown over the walls.
As they entered, Sherry's eyes widened. Odessa had more possessions than anyone she had seen so far.
"Sit." Odessa led her to a dollhouse chair against the wall.
Sherry ripped her hand away and glared, making no move to obey. Her throat was too tight with tears and anger to say all the things racing through her mind. Odessa took her by the shoulders and made her sit.
"Listen up." Odessa's fingers stayed perched firmly on Sherry's shoulders. They were nearly nose-to-nose. "I'm going to explain my job. Our job. Are you listening? When a human is suspected of stealing prints or trinkets, the best way to find everyone they've stolen is to send in a snake. That's us."
"That's you," Sherry protested, her voice a mere croak.
"No. It's us. Whether you like it or not, you have to understand right here and now that there's no choice, Sherry. Either you comply, or they'll send you somewhere worse."
Sherry shook her head. "You said or. Sure sounds like there's a choice in there somewhere."
"Not when one of the choices is a fucking stupid one." Odessa knelt by the chair and looked up at Sherry, taking her hand. A display of vulnerability meant nothing when it came from a professional liar. "I saved you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this is the best thing I could've done for you."
"My collar disagrees." Sherry yanked her hands away, glaring daggers at Odessa's imploring expression. "If we're being set out as bait to catch these people, we're still ending up in bars. How is this any better?"
"The difference is that you'll be saved if you do your job right. You'll have a bed to sleep in. Food to eat. Moments of actual rest. Those other trinkets out in the world... They have nothing. They're dead."
"Oh, this is what you call living?"
Odessa pursed her lips, patience wearing thin. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it and say it's easy. It's the hardest job you'll ever have to do, but it's a job. You're not a doll or a sex toy or decoration anymore."
"You're right," Sherry spat. "I'm all those things at once, just depends on who the reapers plan to target, huh? Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong," Odessa said simply, rising to stand in front of Sherry with her arms crossed tightly. "I'm expected to teach you what to do. So if you want to survive, I suggest you listen up."
Sherry scowled and clenched her hands on her lap, but she listened.
"Depending on the target, you need to tailor your personality to be tantalizing but believable. Some of these creeps have wizened up, or at least know that the reapers have a few tricks up their sleeves at this point. You just need to be something they want to take home with them. Whether it's for personal, black market, or rebellion reasons."
A sour look crossed Sherry's face. "So, that scared girl thing you did at Zane's place... that was just a routine to get him to nab you?"
Odessa scoffed. "Zane was hardly worth the effort. But then again, bar jobs are usually the easiest. The reapers work with the staff to make sure a snake gets served to the target. Those jobs are the most common. I'm sure that's what they'll assign you at first."
"And what about Adam?" Sherry said when he occurred to her suddenly. "Why isn't here, getting this informative seminar with me?"
"There's no way I could convince Mitchell to take you both."
"So... I'm just the lucky one you chose, then?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Odessa glanced away, frowning as if she was still processing her own decision. "I've never asked them to bring in a new snake before. But you were convincing when you hid your suspicions from Zane. Convincing enough that I know you'll be good at this job."
Before Sherry could help it, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be good at this job."
"Sher... I'm giving you something that didn't have before tonight. I'm giving you the power to take control instead of staying a helpless victim." Odessa leaned in closer and put her hands on Sherry's shoulders again, squeezing. "Lesson one. Never cry unless it benefits you."
One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now.
Rage flooded over the fear. Sherry sprang to her feet and shoved Odessa to the ground, catching her off guard. "You're a fucking monster! Just as bad as Zane, and these reapers, and all the other psychos out there who can't keep their disgusting hands off trinkets!"
A shadow darkened over them. Mitchell seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his voice rumbling with dangerous amusement. "Well, well, trouble in paradise?"
Sherry made a choked noise and tripped over the doll chair as his hand dove down for her. She scrambled to kick her legs free of the flimsy furniture, but in no time at all, fingers closed around her body and yanked her out of Odessa's room. He observed her panicked struggles for only a moment before raising his eyebrows at Odessa.
"Guess you forgot to mention in your little orientation that fighting isn't tolerated."
"Back off," Odessa said, brushing herself off. "You've barely given me fifteen minutes with her."
"Hm. Didn't happen to teach her about the collar yet?"
"I was getting to it," Odessa said hurriedly. Her voice jumped in a way that made Sherry's skin crawl with dread.
That was all the answer he needed. He released Sherry on the table's expansive surface outside the Warren, right beside one of Odessa's walls. Odessa tore down one of the hanging sheets, pressing her hands to the glass.
"Just relax!" she ordered Sherry, seeming caught between genuine worry and cold nonchalance in Mitchel's looming presence.
"Oh, stop babying her," he chided, doing nothing to fight a sick smile of anticipation.
Mitchell's hand crowded Sherry again. She backed up frantically, but bumped into the glass, unable to avoid his fingertip as it tapped her collar. He went on conversationally as if she wasn't cowering under his gaze.
"Now, if you're out in the field and need to communicate, put your fingertips on both sides and hold for a few seconds. When you've got a solid enough confession from the target, turn on the tracker by tapping the sides three times." His finger pulled away, but not before dragging it down her shoulder, arm, and leg. "Timing is everything. You'll find that several targets scan for trackers, so be smart about when you activate it. You wouldn't want them to know your little secret."
Once his hand no longer filled her vision, she managed to shudder out the breath she had been holding. She reached for the collar, pursing her lips. He spotted the question on her face and chuckled.
"Why would we give you the power to choose when we come for you? Because we have a neat little failsafe in the event that you try to dodge us. I think you deserve a demonstration."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. The reaper logo was stamped on the back. He set it on the table in front of Sherry, giving her full upside-down view as he moved through screen after screen until he came upon a list of codes and names. He stopped and tapped on one of the pairs.
C117 - Sherry
Before she could process how quickly her identity had been synced in the reaper station, she couldn't breathe.
A cry squeaked past her throat. She coughed and tried to pry her fingertips under her collar as it constricted against her neck. Panic seized her. She fell to her knees and writhed uselessly, certain that the metal would decapitate her in its rapid compression against her windpipe.
Odessa's voice sounded far away. "You made your point, now quit it!"
"Just showing her what happens if she gets any bright ideas," Mitchell drawled.
He tapped his device. The collar sprang back to its normal, snug fit. Bracing one hand on the table, he leaned in closer to get a better look as Sherry put herself back together. Gasping, she managed to stand shakily.
"That's for trying to rough up my favorite snake," he told her in a low, dangerous voice. "If you don't turn on your tracker while you're on a job, it starts a little slower than that. You won't even notice at first. Like a frog in boiling water. Just don't even think about activating the tracker until you've recorded some evidence or found some hoarded inventory. You got it?"
Sherry stood there and trembled, reeling to process the way he referred to smuggled people as inventory.
His hand slammed down beside her and sent a shockwave that knocked her off her feet. She looked straight up as he put his face inches from her.
"I said, you got it?" Mitchell barked.
"Y-yes!"
"Yes, what?"
"Yessir!" She nodded frantically and pressed her back against the glass that separated her from Odessa, who looked on with wide, furious eyes.
"You done?" Odessa demanded of Mitchell. "Already collected plenty of material to jack off to later, don't you think?"
He smirked. "You know me so well."
In one smooth motion, he straightened and plucked up Sherry before she could think to be startled by it. He deposited her in Odessa's room, where she fell to her hands and knees. She didn't pause for a single second—she sprang to stand. Bolting from the room, she headed for her own, empty one. Mitchell's leer followed her path effortlessly, still laughing and watching when she reached her destination.
"Expect your first assignment tomorrow, new girl," he said. "Hope you'll leave a good review about orientation."
"I can't take this anymore. Why can't you just... just stop!"
"You don't understand, Sher. If we don't keep splitting it between us, I... You know what'll happen to me. Is that what you want? It is, isn't it? Then you'd be rid of me for good. Fucking finally, right?"
"Don't say that!"
The feeling in Sherry's gut was so familiar, it hurt like a freshly reopened wound. No matter which body she existed in, the universe demanded she be dragged into something she wanted nothing to do with. No choice but to follow through.
This time there was no family. There was no love, no urge to protect. There was only the will to see another day.
What's the point of seeing another day if this what the days are like?
As she lay in her depressing, issued bed and stared at the ceiling, she sincerely thought of running over to Odessa's room to punch her squarely in the face. Maybe Mitchell would swoop in and let the collar finish her off this time. But Sherry couldn't bring herself to budge. She stayed fixated on the fluorescent lights as the hours of the day dragged on. The lights never turned out—not even at night. Busting people for hoarding prints and trinkets was a twenty-four-hour business, but reapers could go home at the end of their shifts.
In all her waiting, she found herself becoming numb. By the time Agent Mitchell came stomping back to the Warren, she felt ready for whatever horror she was expected to carry out. At least she tried to lie to herself that she was ready. Odessa, a known liar, was certain that Sherry was an excellent one. So maybe she could convince herself.
"Four assignments tonight," Mitchell announced, reading from a tablet. "Odessa, Collin, Miranda, and Sherry."
Through the glass walls, she saw the summoned trinkets making their way to the common area. She followed suit, making sure to be as far away from Odessa as possible as they stood at attention.
Mitchell's gaze settled on Sherry immediately, seeming equal measures curious and amused as he wondered how she would react to carrying out her first job. She dropped her gaze to the floor. If some creep was going to toy with her tonight, the least she could do for herself was not let Mitchell get the ball rolling.
"Don't look so sad, Sherry," he chided. "You've got a bar tonight. Easy."
"I'll take her assignment," Odessa said as if she was commenting about the weather.
Sherry's head shot up to look across at Odessa. The other trinkets were staring too, while Mitchell raised his eyebrows steeply.
"See, that's a problem. Did you miss the part where you have your own job tonight?"
Odessa shrugged. "I'll do both. One after the other. She isn't ready yet, but the jobs need to be done, so I'll do them."
He scoffed. "What's the point of her taking up space here?"
"What space? Look around. Half the rooms are empty. Just give me more time to work with her, and she'll be as much of an asset as I am. You're risking her if you send her out too soon. Think long-term, Mitchell. She'll be worth it."
The reaper thought on it for a second, resting a hand over one of the outer walls and drumming his fingers on it. Looking more amused than ever, he turned his attention back to Sherry.
"And what do you say to that?" he asked her.
More than anything, Sherry wanted to demand what Odessa was playing at. Was this her way of apologizing? Sherry was not used to anyone taking the fall for her, but she stuffed down her shock with a cool look and mimed Odessa's shrug.
"If that's what she wants, you won't hear me complaining," Sherry said.
"Fine by me." Mitchell reached for Odessa. "As long as both jobs get done tonight."
And with that Sherry was left standing alone in the common area as the other snakes were plucked up as well. Dropping the pretense of her disinterest, she drew a deep breath and made a slow path back to her room. Along the way, she saw a couple of other snakes who had not been assigned anything that night. They rolled over in their beds, eyes open. No doubt they had heard the whole thing, but none of them had offered to take on Odessa's extra job.
Sherry spent the day drifting between her room and the common area, trying to block out the sounds of the station around the Warren. It was like existing as a ghost. Feeling real while having no significant impact on the real world.
She stared at the wallscreen as it played the news, but she may as well have been watching a broadcast from Jupiter for all the effect it had on her life. Watching the news from Zane's apartment had filled her with a weak sense of hope—at least, in those times when she could force herself to ignore how suspicious she was of his motives. Here, she was filled with nothing but sorrow, watching as the distant world went on without her.
Odessa had been taken at five in the afternoon. She was returned at four in the morning, looking as exhausted as Mitchell looked pleased. It must have been the end of his shift because he didn't stick around to torment anyone as the returning trinkets staggered to their rooms.
Sherry put up no argument when Odessa leaned in her doorway and beckoned her to follow.
"So... I'm guessing it went well?" Sherry asked once they were in Odessa's room.
She refused to give Odessa the satisfaction of immediately asking why she had taken the second job.
"I was responsible for three arrests." For all the extra privacy of her room, she didn't seem shy at all as she stripped off her skimpy bar outfit. Sherry averted her eyes to the corner as Odessa went on. "The first job was a well-off couple. They had been hoarding trinkets from bars and selling them on the side. Not part of any black market networks. Those are the easiest. They rarely have a clue what they're doing, and it's very obvious. Remember that."
Catching a flash of fabric out of the corner of her eye, Sherry peeked and saw Odessa had thrown on a sunflower dress. She did a double-take. It looked a lot like the one Zane had kept in his storage of trinket clothing.
"Independent sellers are easy," Sherry recited glumly. "And the other?"
"A low ranking distributor on the black market. He was crashing parties that had trinket rentals. Keep this in mind, too—those trinket rental services are the most notorious for losing their inventory. Too many moving pieces and rarely a solid guest list to keep track of."
Sherry nodded, sinking into the dollhouse chair as she tried to process it all. "How did you pull that one off?"
"I was alone. I made myself the easiest one for him to grab. So he did." Odessa leaned against one of the sheeted walls and crossed her arms. Her eyelids looked heavy. "It was hard getting info out of him. See, distributors are usually either batshit crazy or stoic. Still, at the end of the day, what most of them love is to feel powerful. The trick was for me to be awed and skeptical. In the end, he wanted for me to know how much of a badass he was."
Something cold warmed through Sherry as she watched Odessa rub her arms up and down like she was trying to rid herself of a lingering sensation.
"And did they..." Sherry cleared her throat. "I mean, did they touch you?"
Odessa dropped the back of her head to the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "The couple caged me. They weren't interested. The distributor... Well, he was handsy. I had to lure him to get those confessions out of him. A lot of humans are like that. They start getting physical, and their walls come down while they brag. They just need to make it clear how much stronger they are."
Humans. "I'm guessing you weren't human, then?"
Odessa fixed her with a guarded look. "What's got you so curious all the sudden?"
"What's got you so selfless all the sudden, taking my job like that?"
A scoff. "You don't know me enough to be shocked by my choices." She paused, her jaw ticking for a second. "Born and raised in a print community. That's where I get my sunshiney personality."
Sherry tried not to gawk. They had been born in entirely different worlds, and now here they both were, living in a glass cage together.
"Did you try to escape?" Sherry asked.
"To go where? The wild? Nah." Odessa pursed her lips as she reminisced. "It wasn't so bad there. I worked in a local bakery, and I was taken to the city a few days out of the month to pull weeds at a botanical garden."
A little snort escaped Sherry before she could stop it. When Odessa raised her eyebrows in question, Sherry shrugged. "Sorry, I have a hard time picturing you in an apron or surrounded by flowers."
"Well, I did have a different face at the time."
That sobered Sherry up in seconds, but she in no way apologized. "So what happened?"
"This keeper started harassing me when I was old enough to have my own place."
Cocking her head, Sherry waited for more, but Odessa just stared at the ceiling. Her gaze was beginning to look distant. Sherry supposed she could understand that. She stood, walking close enough to see the individual petals on Odessa's sunflower dress.
"Did you get into trouble with him?" she asked softly, as if it mattered at all who heard. "It's the kind of thing you hear about sometimes, you know. Keepers getting handsy with prints and getting no repercussions for it. Finding ways to get them in trouble when they don't reciprocate."
Odessa's eyes snapped to hers. "I killed him."
Sherry took a step back, her blood icing over. Her wide eyes incited a smirk on Odessa's lips.
"You were human, weren't you?" Odessa said. "You may not be as freaked as every other human-turned-trinket I've met, but you've still got that look, that way you carry yourself. Like you used to be on top of the world."
"Oh, please. I was never on top of the world."
"Yes, you were. Consider this. The poorest human is living better than the most well-off print." Still, she paused to think about Sherry's statement. "I'm guessing you didn't leave much behind?"
Taking slow steps back to the doorway, Sherry didn't have the energy to protest the shift of spotlight. The mere inquiry of her old life sent her head spinning along with Odessa's casual confession.
"I left behind plenty," Sherry said, gripping the glass doorway. "I have a twin. Had, I guess. Don't quite look alike anymore. Her name's Mia."
Odessa's poker face remained intact, but Sherry swore she saw a flicker of sympathy. "Since we're sharing, what did a sweet thing like you do to deserve what you got?"
It was Sherry's turn to be amused, though she felt like a cold knife was twisting in her gut as she made her exit. "You think you're hot shit for taking out one creep? You're looking at a convicted serial killer, queen."
"Hey, I'm here. I found your backpack, but where are you?"
"I-I..."
"Hello? Mia?"
"I'm sorry, Sher. I-I'm s-so sorry, I had to, I had to—"
"Whoa, slow down! Why are you crying?"
The next night, Odessa insisted once again on taking Sherry's assignment. And the night after that. And the night after that. Mitchell was apparently determined to saddle them both with jobs every night. The other snakes were granted periodic nights off.
There was no attempt to hide it—Agent Mitchell was thoroughly entertained. On the fifth night, he clicked his tongue and looked down at Odessa with what might have been admiration. "You know, you're this close to pissing me off, but I'm kinda curious how much you'll kill yourself to protect your pet girlfriend."
Being in the clear every night did not win Sherry any friends among the snakes. Then again, none of them seemed overly fond of each other anyway. As far as Sherry knew, she and Odessa were the only ones who visited each other, even if those visits were out of pure survival on Sherry's part.
Odessa returned later and later into the morning every time, burdened with the double assignments. The dark circles under her eyes became a permanent fixture. And yet, her performance in acquiring confessions and finding hoarded trinkets did not seem to wane in the slightest.
"Why not call the reapers earlier?" Sherry asked when she noticed Odessa massaging her neck and grimacing. She was back later than ever, which meant she must have put up with the collar tightening quite a bit.
"Holding off a little bit longer pays off," Odessa explained. Even her voice sounded sore. "More damning confessions. Plus, info on others in their network. I'm sure you've noticed that we're rewarded when we do a good job."
Sherry had noticed.
Odessa's cubicle was the most decked out. The best clothes, the most pillows, the softest blankets. The reapers didn't even bother her about the extra sheets she had tossed over the glass walls, allowing her privacy that the other snakes were denied. She did her job well, and like a prized poodle, she was given treats for it.
The reward system gnawed at Sherry over the next few days, but she had little time to confront Odessa about it. She continued taking Sherry's jobs and took to sleeping the entire time she returned to the Warren. The rage that had first taken over Sherry was slowly but surely flickering down to nothing each time she saw Odessa drag her feet to her room.
Then, out of the clear blue, the snakes were taken outside. Sort of.
They were allowed one hour of outdoor time per week. It turned out to be the necessary amount to keep the majority of them from snapping and killing each other in their sleep.
The seven of them were placed in a glass box that had been fixed outside a window. Naturally, the dreariest day of the week had been chosen. Drizzling rain pattered against the glass, keeping the occupants downcast as ever.
Odessa, for all her exhaustion, seemed the least bothered by it. She sat cross-legged in front of one wall. Her hands were braced on the floor behind her, chin tilted up and eyes shut as if she could feel the sunshine through the compact clouds.
Taking a seat beside her, Sherry curled up and hugged her knees. Instead of looking up, she watched the crawling traffic below. Watching from ten stories up made her feel less small.
"Was I just another reward?" Sherry blurted. "Just something you asked for when you did a good job with Zane?"
Odessa didn't answer.
Sherry sighed sharply. "Why bring me into this? What do you want from me?"
"I dunno, Sher," Odessa murmured finally. "Maybe, for once, I wanted to be around someone who wasn't hand-picked by reapers. Maybe I'm just fucking lonely, and you had enough potential as a snake that I could use it as an excuse to keep you. Or maybe I just think you're cute."
There was no more wrath in Sherry. Only an awful, hollow feeling. "I really am your pet girlfriend, aren't I?"
"You still don't get it. You don't have to be anything to anyone. That's the gift I gave you with this job. You choose the role you want to play. You aren't the prey anymore. You're the hunter. If you don't want me to take your assignments anymore, all you have to do is tell me."
Sherry dug her fingers into her arms, holding herself closer. "Why take my jobs in the first place? You care so much about survival and rewards. You think you're getting in my good graces?"
Odessa was quiet for so long, Sherry thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed. "I only meant to take the first job. It would have sucked for you to die on your first assignment. Then you didn't seem ready for the second one. Or the one after. And so on. Now here we are."
"You still don't think I'm ready?"
"You could be." Odessa kept her gaze fixed on the clouds. "Maybe I'm the one who's not ready to imagine someone getting their filthy hands on you. But I gotta say... Being a good liar is one thing. You seem a bit soft for a serial killer."
Sherry swallowed hard, feeling like she was stumbling up a staircase in the dark, knowing that one step was missing.
"Makes sense," Sherry said. "I was framed."
Odessa turned to look at her, scooting closer until their arms brushed each other. It was weirdly comforting to have someone listen instead of scoff. "Huh. Ain't that a bitch. Wrong place, wrong time?"
"No. I was right on schedule. I knew I was there to be framed. It wasn't the first time."
Clenching her jaw, Sherry stared straight ahead at the skyline. The city was loud, but it was so quiet inside the glass box, she felt as though every snake was listening in. None of them gave a shit, other than the one sitting beside her.
"Mia and I would switch places all the time," Sherry said, her words feeling strangely disconnected from herself. She had kept them in for so long. "Ever since we were kids, we would share the blame. We would keep track of whose turn it was to get in trouble. As we grew up... she was the one doing most of the bad things.
"And then, once we were adults, it was legal trouble. She could never seem to get herself back on her feet without being dragged back down by something new. It happened over and over. I would let myself get arrested for her petty crimes, and then I'd be let go. She had this terrible boyfriend who kept dragging her along. She may have loved me, but she was obsessed with him. It got to be too much. Once I realized she liked that life, I was done. I moved away, cut her off. It was more like cutting off an arm or a leg. She had turned into this awful thing, but she was still my sister.
"Four years, we didn't speak. Then one day she called me up. Said she needed my help one last time. Said she'd leave me alone after that. I almost didn't go, but I missed her, and I was worried. She promised it was nothing too bad, but she had built up her record so much since I left, she just couldn't afford to get caught again.
"So I showed up where she told me to. I found her backpack in an alley. When I called her, she was a wreck. She kept apologizing, kept saying she loved me. But that she couldn't be a trinket. She just couldn't do it.
"Right on cue, I was spotted and recognized by a witness. I was arrested. The police line-up lasted for about thirty seconds before I was singled out. I was dragged in for an interrogation. That was when they told me what she did. What I did. Seven counts of first-degree murder. See, her boyfriend had been arrested for gang activity and who knows how many hits. At his trial, the jurors took less than five minutes to deliberate: guilty. He was sentenced to be a trinket. And she snapped. She blamed it all on them."
Odessa nodded, having the decency to look disturbed. "The jurors...."
"Picked them off one by one over the course of a year. On her seventh one, she was spotted, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she was found. So she called me up. Told me where to wait. I hadn't even looked inside her backpack, but buried at the bottom was the gun she had used."
"I'm guessing they didn't buy the whole 'my twin sister did it and told me to stand here'?"
"Oh, they knew something was off. But the precinct was a laughing stock because of how long it took them to find the serial killer. By then, Mia was long gone, and they had the perfect scapegoat, along with eyewitnesses to back up that they knew my face. Detectives even lifted some of her DNA from a few crime scenes. We matched."
For a long time, the two of them stayed silent.
"I was right, then," Odessa said finally, leaning her head on Sherry's shoulder. "Great liar. Terrible criminal."
As the rain began to slam harder against the glass, Sherry couldn't bring herself to shrug her off.
That evening, Sherry was fully prepared to step forward and take the job that had been assigned to her. Odessa took it before she could say a word. Mitchell was beginning to look frustrated, but apparently he was more interested in testing Odessa's limits than he was in making her play by the rules.
Odessa did not return until the next afternoon, and judging by the state she was in, Mitchell had gotten what he wanted.
He was all smirks as he dropped her into the common area. "Walk it off, little snake."
Her injuries were so brutal that even the other trinkets broke out of their disinterested fog to stare. She had a split lip and dried blood caking the lower half of her face. She clutched her side tenderly, staggering against the glass to stay upright on the path to her room. She left a smear of blood on the pristine wall along the way. Mitchell watched for only a minute before taking his leave.
Sherry rushed up beside Odessa. A couple of weeks ago, it would have been satisfying to see her this way. Now, Sherry couldn't bring herself to remember what that smugness would have felt like.
"What happened?" Sherry demanded.
"You should see the other guy," Odessa croaked, wincing a cold smile.
"Don't be cute," Sherry said, allowing Odessa to lean on her as they headed to the sheet-covered room. "Don't we have some kind of medic? They know it's a dangerous job."
"Already stopped by the clinic downstairs. This was all they could do. Or wanted to do, anyway."
Sherry looked the half-assed job up and down, gently touching the hand that Odessa kept pressed to her side. "Your ribs might be cracked. What the hell happened?"
"Reapers suspected my target was working for the rebellion. He was spotted with the same trinkets multiple times, so he wasn't selling. I got myself all set up to be 'rescued', and it turns out this guy is a high roller in a fighting ring. Once I realized what was happening, I called for the reapers to come collect. But before I knew it, I was in the pit with another trinket, and he was not interested in talking it out." She smiled crookedly. "What, you worried about me, or something?"
Making a face, Sherry nudged Odessa toward her bed. "Yeah. If you can't go back out there, then I'll have to. Now lay down, come on."
"Bossy," Odessa sing-songed. "Kinda hot."
"Did you get a concussion too, or what?"
Sherry helped her lay down, then started looking around for something to help. Water and cloth were easy enough to get, but Odessa needed far more than that. Noticing Sherry's plight, Odessa raised her head.
"Raquel's got salve." She pointed to the box of clothes in the corner. "Take her the sunflower dress. She'll trade."
Digging out the dress, Sherry hurried out the door to find Raquel. It was a surprisingly easy trade for a mini bottle of salve. Mini to humans, at least. The bottle was the length of Sherry's forearm. It seemed that pretty clothes were just as much a commodity as life-saving medication. Sherry was still wearing her standard issue institution-like set despite Odessa's offer to share.
Returning to Odessa's room, Sherry set everything down on the nightstand, pulled up a chair, and got to work. She started by cleaning away the blood, moving more gently when Odessa winced.
"How do you not have your own salve?" Sherry asked to distract her.
"Covering my walls was a big ask. Mitchell, in his infinite wisdom, says he doesn't want to spoil me. He has decided that I can only ask for one or the other."
"Salve seems a little more practical if you ask me."
"Can always trade if I need it." Odessa reached back behind her head to lovingly touch the sheet on the nearest wall. "Ever notice how everything meant to contain trinkets is made of glass? Polished, perfectly see-through glass. That's part of the punishment, even if no one says it out loud. We're always on display. Always meant to be looked at and humiliated. Sure, there's nothing I can do about the ceiling, but... it's something, at least."
Sherry had never thought hard about it, though it had been staring her in the face for three weeks now.
"Lift your shirt," Sherry instructed, helping her sit up.
"That's forward of you." Odessa smirked at Sherry's eye-roll and did as she was told, lifting her shirt enough to expose her ribs.
Tenderly as she could, Sherry spread a few fingertips of salve over the bruising area. It wasn't a cure by any means, but it would help with the pain. After prompting Odessa to lay back down, Sherry dabbed salve onto Odessa's lip. Their eyes met, and Sherry felt heat rush to her cheeks.
Odessa shut her eyes for a moment and released a heavy sigh, reaching up to squeeze Sherry's hand.
"I poisoned the keeper," Odessa said quietly.
If she had been searching for the perfect way to kill the mood, she hit the nail on the head.
Frowning, Sherry slipped her hand free. "With what?"
"I worked in a botanical garden, remember? All kinds of plants. Prints were the only ones allowed to get up close and personal with the most poisonous ones. Prints and trinkets aren't affected the same way as humans. But let's be honest, they'd send us in there even if that wasn't in the case. Anyway, I started up a little collection, harvested the oils, and mixed them."
"He... he didn't suspect anything?"
She shook her head. "I didn't do it right away. I kept thinking... if he gets worse. And he did. I tried to convince him to stop, but he wouldn't. He had firmly decided there was nothing I could do about it, so why stop? That last night, he broke my window to get to me. The timing couldn't have been more deserved."
By that point, Sherry was fixated, forgetting the salve and soaked cloth entirely. "How did you manage to get it in his food or drink? It couldn't have been easy."
"Who said anything about food or drink?" Something sinister flickered at the back of her eyes. "I rubbed the oils all over my skin."
"Oh," was all Sherry managed to breathe out.
"Yeah. Oh. He had me strip like he normally did. Then, the moment he put his disgusting mouth on me, he was doomed. He didn't even know it. He drove home and didn't show up for his next shift. They found him in his apartment three days later."
"And they traced it back to you?"
"Well, I didn't go bragging about it." Odessa touched her sore ribs absently, staring at the buzzing fluorescent lights high above. "The autopsy revealed the poison. Those types of plants weren't native to the area and were traced to the botanical garden. And who was his only connection to the garden?"
"But you didn't slip it into his food or anything! For all they knew, you just happened to have leftover poison on your skin from working in the garden. He's the one who put his mouth on you."
Odessa laughed. "Like they gave a shit. Plenty of keepers knew he had a thing for me, then he suddenly shows up dead? They even had a few of my neighbors testify about how much I hated him. I didn't stand a chance. But... the way I went about it is also the reason I'm here to begin with."
"Oh. You said that reapers usually pick snakes, right?"
"Mitchell attended my trial when he heard what I did. It didn't last long. He approached me hours before my consciousness transfer. His timing is impeccable with that sort of thing—offering a deal just when you think things are hopeless you're desperate enough to say yes to anything.
"He said I could come work for him, or I could be shipped off to whichever business called dibs on the next trinket shipment. He fed me all this bullshit about being able to stop worse people than the keeper I killed. All he needed to say was that being a snake meant I had a fighting chance. I said yes, of course. From that moment, I was his. He even picked my new face. Took me into a storage room every night the first few weeks for training."
Sherry reached for Odessa's hand and squeezed, trying to draw her out of her distant gaze despite the quiet horror Sherry felt herself. No wonder Mitchell seemed to have the greatest sense of ownership over Odessa compared to the other snakes. She was his project.
"So," Sherry said. "Ever daydream about making some poison and letting Mitchell have a taste."
Odessa smiled wanly. "I used to. Then I realized that Mitchell is our survival. He's a sadistic fuck, but we need him."
The response took Sherry off-guard. She didn't think Odessa could look or sound so complacent.
"You're not covered in poison right now, are you?" Sherry asked. Before Odessa could process the question, Sherry leaned in and pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek. "Thanks for taking the fall for me. Since Mitchell's off-limits, can we at least daydream that the keeper is burning right now?"
"Now that one's a favorite."
Minutes ticked by, stretching into hours as Odessa rested. Sherry didn't realize she had dozed off in the chair beside the bed until the approach of a human rattled her awake.
"Odessa, you're out of commission for the weekend, lucky you," Mitchell announced, prompting her to jolt awake too. He smiled as his icy gaze moved between them. "Sherry, your assignment's already in, and I'm nice enough to give you a head's up. Velvet Delights. Be ready by 5 for pickup."
Cold fear drenched Sherry, stealing her breath.
"What!" Odessa snapped up to sit, grimacing at her sore ribs. "She can't go to a brothel! She's never even gone to a bar!"
"See, here's the thing," Mitchell said, leaning over to look straight down into the room until they had to crane their necks. "On file, she's been doing a hell of a phenomenal job at bars for the past three weeks. Even survived a fighting ring. No one can argue that she's ready as anyone for a brothel."
Odessa snarled, kicking off her blanket and standing to glare up at him. "Send someone with experience! You know she isn't ready!"
"Whose fault is that? She could have been more than ready if you didn't coddle her."
Eyes wide and frenzied, Odessa looked to Sherry, who had her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep a sob at bay. This couldn't be happening. She'd known that eventually she would have to work, but she had all but blocked out the possibility of being tossed into a brothel.
Drawing a deep breath, Odessa squared her shoulders and looked back up at Mitchell. "Send me in with her."
His eyebrows shot up. "You have three days off."
"Which means I'm free to volunteer. You know as well as me that brothels have the highest death rate. Always better to send more than one. It divides the attention, makes it easier to get evidence."
Mitchell scoffed, but he paused to consider it. "You really are something else," he finally told Odessa. His eyes slid to Sherry for a moment, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm starting to get a little jealous if I'm being honest." He straightened and walked off. "Ready for pick up at 5," he said over his shoulder.
Sherry put on a pretty good show of pretending she wasn't scared out of her mind. In the weeks of getting to know her, however, Odessa could spot her tells. The way she rolled her shoulders. The slight pinch of her brow and lips that could be mistaken for a determined frown. The deep breaths she took to steady herself.
Velvet Delights was upscale, almost heavenly in its angel theme, which could either be helpful or disastrous. The reaper team wouldn't be far, patrolling the area and waiting for one of them to send the signal on their collars. The owner was thrilled to have a couple of free laborers, along with a promise that his inventory would not be snatched by the scheduled suspect that night.
The two of them were ordered to stand close together on the tray. Since Sherry seemed to have forgotten how to move, Odessa went and sat next to her. They were imprisoned under a wine glass and carted into a silk-lavished room. A luxury bottle of wine towered beside them. Odessa had been to enough brothels to know this setup was a special request.
The hostess straightened the pillows, made sure the glass was centered on the tray, and locked the door on her way out.
"You were right about the glass thing," Sherry whimpered in a half-assed attempt to giggle.
"Just relax," Odessa said. "Don't draw attention to yourself. Trinkets have mysteriously vanished around this guy, and that most likely means he's selling. He won't want to damage his product."
"And if he's not selling?" Sherry whispered.
Odessa squeezed her hand. "Just leave everything to me."
"You're hurt."
"The salve helped. I'm fine." Breathing only hurt a little.
The lock scraped. Sherry jumped, letting out a noise of fright. Her breathing quickened, and she shivered with the beginnings of a panic attack.
"Don't," Odessa hissed.
The door swung open, revealing a man with brown hair. When his eyes landed on them, he broke out in a smile that could light up a room. He glanced behind himself dramatically to check the number on the door.
"Am I in the right room?" he said. "Didn't know I'd be getting two. Hope I don't get charged extra."
Stripping off his jacket, he tossed it on a lounger and sauntered to the cart by the bed. He leaned over for a closer look, his fingertips trailing along the glass, tapping.
"Though... I say it'd be worth it for you two stunners."
Odessa tried to keep a neutral expression while she read him. It didn't take long to surmise that he had a thing for power. According to Mitchell, he was a bartender at a fancy downtown club. Trinkets were an everyday fixture for him, and still he visited brothels.
He reached for the bottle and worked on opening it. Didn't waste time, this one. Neither trinket said a word. "Don't be shy, now. Let's break the ice with some introductions." He popped the bottle and smiled pleasantly at them. "I'm James."
"Lolli," Odessa said, purposely trying to make herself look smaller and vulnerable.
He gave a hearty laugh, eyeing her red hair. "Lucky me. Cherry is my favorite flavor. Well, tonight it is." His gaze slid over to Sherry expectantly.
"Charity," she squeaked out, huddling closer to Odessa.
"Precious. Does that mean you're giving?" He grabbed the edge of the cart and dragged it closer. "I'm pretty giving myself, but we'll see if you're grateful enough to appreciate it."
Delicately pinching the stem of the glass, he pulled it closer, forcing them to approach him. Lifting the bottle, he tilted it to pour wine over the upended glass. Pale red dribbles raced down the outside of their prison. Odessa bit back a sneer, knowing he had either done this dozens of times or had scripted this fantasy down to the last beat in his mind.
Still, she was hardly prepared when he thudded the bottle down and slipped his hand beneath the rim of the glass. They had no choice but to scramble onto his fingers, stuck in their enclosure like captured bugs. James lifted them to eye level.
"Sorry for the theatrics," he said without sounding sorry at all. "I have my way of sampling."
Hunger, lust, and amusement battled for dominance in his gaze. Odessa bumped against Sherry as they were suddenly lowered, bringing his mouth into direct view. Sherry gave a breathless shriek as he licked the dripping wine in front of them. She snagged Odessa's arm and urged her to back up to the other side of their prison—as if it would make any difference.
As he turned his hands to drag his tongue further along, his breath fogged the glass. Odessa tried to look more frightened than outright disgusted. So, he was the type who liked to scare his victims instead of winning them over. How original. At least she did not doubt the character she had to play now.
"S-stop," Odessa said, loosing a fake sob and covering her face. "P-please!"
He pulled away, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. "You're right, I shouldn't have all the fun."
Air rushed past them as the glass was lifted off, leaving them exposed in his palm. Odessa thought for sure they were about to get the same treatment with his tongue. To her surprise, he lowered them to the nightstand and let them slide off. Grabbing a cloth from the cart, he wiped off the glass and poured himself a real drink while Sherry huddled against Odessa.
"Oh?" James took a long pull from the wine as he observed his audience of two. "Are you two friends? Adorable. That always makes things more fun." His gaze settled on Odessa. "Lolli, wouldn't you say our friend looks awfully warm in that get-up?"
The two of them wore matching white babydoll lingerie meant to make them look like angels. Instead of halos, they had their collars. Sherry shivered in her outfit like she was sitting in a snowstorm.
"In case it wasn't obvious," James said, his voice taking on an edge. "I'm telling you to take it off her."
Swallowing hard, Odessa turned to face Sherry, nodding her assurance. They needed to do what he said, lure him to let his guard down. With any luck, they could get a confession before he stole them from the brothel. Her goal wasn't to be perfect tonight; it was to get Sherry the hell out of there.
With trembling fingers that were only partly theatrics, Odessa reached for the straps of Sherry's bra. She felt sick to her stomach, particularly when she felt Sherry recoil from her touch. Sherry's voice seemed to echo from weeks ago, accusing her of being a monster. She certainly felt like one right now, though not as fearsome as the one looming over them with his expectant stare.
"I'm sorry," Odessa whispered.
Sherry looked like she might burst into tears as she dropped her head. She made no move to resist as Odessa undid the straps and pulled her bra down her arms, leaving her topless. Reaching for Sherry's panties, Odessa stopped halfway and pulled her hands back. She shook her head, leaning into her guilty expression as she looked up at James pleadingly.
James scoffed and drained the last of his wine, slamming the glass onto the nightstand beside them. "If that's too hard, tonight's gonna be a rough one for you, babe. But I guess I'll let you off the hook for now."
Odessa breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll finish the job myself." James reached for them.
Sherry cried out in protest and latched herself to Odessa's arm, weeping. James' hand faltered as he eyed them. It wasn't pity—far from it. It was intrigue. Odessa could practically see the gears turning in his head as he took in the sight of Sherry cowering against her for protection.
He grinned. "Am I crazy, or are you blushing, Lolli?" Both. "Goddamn, more than friends, huh? I'm starting to wonder if management thinks it's my birthday or something. I'll do you a favor and show your little girlfriend how it's done, from the top."
His hand closed the distance this time, claiming Odessa as its prize. As he pulled her away, Sherry tried desperately to hold onto her, crying, "No! No!" But she fell back on the polished wood when James shook her off.
"Settle down, babe," he cooed. "You'll get your turn with her. You should be taking notes."
Odessa squirmed and whimpered in his grasp, silently relieved to have the sicko's attention focused all on her. She was no stranger to being stripped bare, but there was something particularly chilling about how expertly his fingers navigated her. He managed to be delicate and possessive all at once as he slipped off the straps of her panties and tossed them aside.
"N-no!" Odessa sobbed dramatically as he lifted her toward his mouth.
He curled his thumb in, effortlessly pinning her to his palm as hot breath spilled over her. His teeth teased at her skin gently until he found one of her bra straps. He tugged until it came loose, leaving her naked in his hand. The delicate lace was still pinched between his teeth as he pulled back to observe her. His thumb rubbed her middle up and down, testing how much pressure it would take to make her squirm in terror.
He let the lingerie fall from his mouth and flutter to the floor. "You're going to be a fun one, aren't you? Thank fuck. These high-end places usually have the prissiest trinkets."
"Please s-stop!" She dug her heels into his palm, trying to pry up his thumb. "You don't have to do this!"
"That's the best part." He leaned in again, trailing his tongue up along her side and circling her breasts while she tried to wriggle out from under his thumb. He sighed as if he couldn't be happier with how she tasted.
She could feel him start to pull away, could see that he was beginning to turn his attention back to Sherry. Odessa yanked her head up and bit his lip. He gave a start and looked down at her, jaw dropping.
"Fun and feisty," he purred. "It's like you were made for me." He caught one of her flailing arms between his teeth and bit her back. Not enough to break skin, but enough for her to let out a scream that wasn't staged.
But that did the trick. He seemed to forget Sherry for the time being, keeping Odessa clenched in his fist while he undressed. Her sore ribs screamed in agony. He moved slowly, making sure she brushed up against his body when he pulled up his shirt or unbuckled his belt. When the dizzying journey was over, he was as naked as she was. He was more muscular than she would have assumed, toned chest and abs filling her vision. She made sure he caught her staring.
A fresh grin lit up his face. "It's about to be all yours, Lollipop."
When he spread himself out on the bed silks, Odessa caught a glimpse of Sherry standing helplessly on the nightstand. Her shoulders moved up and down with visible breaths of panic. Odessa felt a fierce tug at her heart, but she didn't dare look too long, lest James get new inspiration to have Sherry join the party.
As it turned out, Odessa didn't have much of an opportunity to stare, anyway. James laid back and put one arm behind his head, observing as he dangled her by an ankle. He twisted his fingers, scrutinizing her at every frightened angle. He breathed with deep contentment, trailing her up and down his chest and abs.
Only her hair tickled at him at first, but with each stroke, he claimed more of her. Arms, face, shoulders, back, breasts, until the entire length of her was skating along the heat of his skin. When she managed to catch a glimpse of his face, she realized he wasn't even looking at her. She followed his gaze overhead and nearly gagged. There was a mirror on the ceiling, and he was fixated on the sight of himself torturing her.
She put on a good show for him, whimpering and squirming and trying to pull herself up to avoid touching him. She dug her fingers into his skin and made him groan. She screamed a few profanities for good measure, followed by desperate apologies begging him to forgive her.
He loved it. Now if she could just get him to confess.
"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she babbled to herself out loud, as if she had completely lost it. "Just tonight, and he'll be gone. I can do this, I c-can do this."
He paused, stopping her halfway down the slope of an ab. "Aw, you're gonna hurt my feelings. Wouldn't you want to stay with me forever?"
A sob wracked through her. "You can't have me! You'll have to give me back."
Her vision spun as he carried her in front of his face to look her over. His chuckle was sinister, but not damning. She wanted to scream in frustration. Just say you're stealing us, already! She kicked her free leg and writhed, actually feeling his fingertips get tugged from the motion.
"Fuck, you're a fiery one," he murmured low in his throat.
That was all he had to say for now. She saw the lust gathering in his eyes, the way his breaths became deeper. He sat up halfway and dragged her down the planes of his body once more, not pausing to drag her back up this time. With a sinking heart, she knew the destination he had lovingly chosen for her.
Seeming miles away, Sherry let out a shriek as she watched from the nightstand. "No! No, don't, please!"
Odessa blocked it out. She would have to deal with this before she could hope to get any info from him. It was far from her first time. As he pressed her up against his hardening cock, she shut down entirely and let it happen. His fingers guided her up and down, the motion becoming rougher by the second.
But he was more sensitive to her mood than she gave him credit for.
"Aw, what happened to all that fire?" he grunted.
Just as quickly as the pressure had started, it faded. He pulled her away from his dick, and she watched in horror as he turned his attention to Sherry's frantic form pacing on the edge of the nightstand.
"Maybe our girlfriend here will be a little more fun. It's her you want, isn't it?"
Odessa's reaction was genuine as she abandoned everything she knew about being a snake. "You keep your sick hands off her!"
But that only inspired him to move quicker. "There's the fire, Lollipop."
His other hand raced to snatch up Sherry. He laid back down, pausing to relish the violent squirms in both his fists before he placed them on his stomach. He stared down expectantly at them like they had been deposited on a stage. He raised his eyebrows viciously at Odessa.
"If you're not a fan of making me happy, I'll let you make your girl wet instead." He reached past them and started stroking himself with anticipation. "Go on."
Odessa turned to Sherry as the two of them rose and fell in tandem with their tyrant's breathing. She reached for Sherry's hand and squeezed. Biting her lip, Odessa searched desperately for some confirmation that this was okay, that they could do what they needed to continue the job. But Sherry gave her head the smallest, pleading shake as tears streamed down her face.
Not here. Not like this.
Turning murderous eyes toward James, Odessa dropped her act entirely and flipped him off. "I'm not putting my hands on her for you, you fucking psychopath."
James groaned in disappointment. "You know, it turns me on a little less every time someone calls me that."
Quick as lightning, he tore Odessa away from Sherry and dumped her in the glass on the nightstand.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Odessa pounded her fists against her damp prison as Sherry became the object of James' scrutiny.
He plucked her up under the arms, watching the panicky kick of her legs. "Oh, don't be like that. Your girlfriend didn't even want you. Don't worry, Charity, I'm here for you now."
Sighing in rapture, he leaned in and pressed kisses to her writhing body. Sherry's whimpers took on a higher octave as he nibbled at her panties. That was all the warning he gave before jerking his head back and ripping them free of her body entirely. He spat them out, eyeing her with a crooked, boyish smile.
"Doesn't that feel much better?"
He teased her with a few more deep kisses, poking his tongue between her legs long enough to elicit an involuntary moan.
"Listen to that. You love it."
He dropped her back on his chest. He nudged her to lay face down and let his hand fall over her, massaging himself with her squirms. He rubbed her down to his abs and back up again. Her muffled cries were silenced each time he fully smothered her, only to surface again when he eased up on the pressure. He couldn't seem to get enough of the rhythm.
All the while, Odessa did not stop shrieking for his attention. By the time he turned his gaze back to her, her throat felt screamed raw. He ignored Sherry's violent struggles against his chest to give Odessa a chiding look.
"No whining, now. You had your chance with her. But don't worry, I'm generous enough to include you."
James sat up halfway and lifted his hand to set Sherry loose. She slid partway down his stomach, scrambling to cling to him so wouldn't slip onto his erection.
"See?" he chuckled, giving her another rub against him. "She's crazy about me."
Reaching past Odessa, James snagged the wine and poured it over her head, filling the glass until she was swimming. Surfacing, Odessa grabbed hold of the rim and coughed. "L-leave her alone! Use me instead!"
The shadow of his hand darkened over her. "You talk too much."
His fingertip came down on her head and dunked her under the wine. He held her down for a good long time while she thrashed and tried to dodge around his finger, which only shoved her down further.
Even when he let her come back up for air, she was given only a millisecond to gather herself. He plucked up the glass and swirled his wine, making her dizzy as she struggled to keep her head up. She slammed into the side of the glass and nearly passed out from the explosive pain in her ribs.
Then he lifted the rim to his lips and took a long gulp. She was too disoriented to swim away from the current rushing into his mouth. Once he caught her arm between his teeth, she could do nothing but wait until he was satisfied with his drink.
As the wine settled back in the glass, Odessa gasped for breath and pushed her wine-soaked hair out of her eyes. She spotted Sherry crawling away on James' stomach. She made it to the sheets before he noticed, chuckling with delight.
"Oh, you like games?" The wine that held Odessa rippled at the rumble of his voice. Sherry moved faster and ducked under a fold. James gave her a head start before setting the glass down so he could poke through the sheets in search of her. "Ready or not..."
While he was distracted, Odessa frantically tapped at her collar to activate the tracker and communicator.
"He confessed," she coughed out, keeping her voice low so James wouldn't hear her. "He has other trinkets with him! He made other stops before this one. Come on, hurry!"
There was an agonizing pause in which James crowed in triumph upon finding Sherry. She screamed as she was yanked out of her hiding place.
"No shit?" Mitchell's voice crackled through the collar. "On our way."
James settled back down, holding Sherry in a fist. He kneaded her front with his thumb as he entertained himself with her weakening struggles.
"P-please," she said. The fight seemed to leave her body. She looked right at him, trying to appeal to a better nature that just wasn't there. "I don't belong h-here. I'm innocent, you have t-to understand! I was framed. Please, please believe me. S-stop this..."
He pursed his lips and nodded along as if he was listening. When she was done, he broke out in a grin so wicked that Odessa swore she felt the temperature drop. "As if I don't hear that same sob story every damn day of my life."
Sweeping his hand out, he deposited Sherry beside his swollen cock.
"Let's see what you got," he said, his voice growing huskier. "Make me happier than you did the judge, and I might be nice."
Sherry tried to run for the sheets again.
"Do I have to do everything around here?" James sighed, though he sounded pleased as could be.
His hand barreled into her and shoved her back where he wanted. He pressed her up against himself with his thumb, rubbing in tight circles. As his panting grew more frantic, he seized both her and his cock in one hand, hiding her entirely with his fingers as he began to jerk himself off. His hand pumped up and down, drowning out Sherry's sobbing screams.
"Stop!" Tears flooded Odessa's eyes, mixing with the wine. "P-please! Just stop!"
His head snapped toward her, wearing a toothy grin. "Don't think I've forgotten about my Lollipop," he panted.
He grabbed the glass and tipped it into his open mouth with reckless abandon. Wine poured in and spilled out the sides. Odessa scrambled to grab hold of something as gravity took over, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself as he tipped her over entirely. The cold glass was replaced with a warm, slick cavern.
Light vanished when he shut his mouth. The surface beneath her lurched upward. His tongue mashed her against the roof of his mouth while he swallowed the rest of the wine around her. The gulp was deafening.
Once she was the only occupant in his mouth, he began toying with her. His teeth narrowly missed crushing her limbs as he clenched his jaw and moaned from the ecstasy of Sherry's struggles. He tilted his head back, and for an awful moment, Odessa thought he was about to swallow her next. Instead, he opened his mouth and left her propped up with his tongue, allowing her a view straight up at the ceiling mirror.
In the reflection, she saw how he parted his fingers around Sherry, giving her a chance to shriek freely. Then he pressed his fingertip to the back of her head to muffle the sound again. An answering groan quaked around Odessa.
She gave a wordless cry and tried to grab his teeth and haul herself out of his mouth. His tongue practically wrapped around her and reeled her back in. He shut his mouth again, rolling her around and sucking on her like a piece of candy.
To her shock, he stuck his fingers in his mouth to grab her by the ankle and pull her out. Losing no rhythm with Sherry, he leaned over to the freshly-refilled wine glass and dunked Odessa headfirst inside. He swirled her around and yanked her out just as suddenly. Holding her over his open mouth, he let wine drip onto his waiting tongue.
Odessa couldn't muster the energy to plead or hurl profanities at him. The hold on her ankle vanished, and she was dropped back toward her dark prison. She managed to twist in the air, landing on the corner of his mouth with her legs halfway out. His teeth came down on her torso, gnawing with dangerous pressure. She tried to wrench her way free, but it was no use. While she was pinned, his tongue returned to greet her, and his finger nudged her the rest of the way in.
James gave another deafening moan of appreciation as he savored her wine-soaked skin.
The noises became more consistent, and his movements quickened. He was heading toward climax. Odessa couldn't help but feel a tiny measure of relief as she curled herself away from his teeth. It was almost over.
Then, to her horror, his tongue began nudging her toward his throat.
In that instant, there was no doubt in her mind that he meant to swallow her as the finale of his pleasure. She scrambled to pull herself away, but there was a shift in gravity as he tilted his head back again to thwart her pitiful struggles.
"NO!" she howled, but the sound went nowhere. The harder she tried to pull herself up, the further she seemed to fall. Her legs slipped into a steep drop.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
Suddenly, she was tilted back to the center of his tongue.
"Occupied," James snapped, teeth gnashing against Odessa's shoulder.
The door banged open. He was so startled that he bit down on her arm. A wail of pain tore out as an incisor cut her. It was a miracle that the bone wasn't crushed.
She felt him cringe at the taste of blood. He plucked her out of his mouth. She coughed herself ragged while his fingers pinched her by the diaphragm and spine. Snagging Sherry's limp body, he used the same hand to toss the sheet over his nudity.
"What the fuck is going on?" James roared, making Odessa slam her hands over her ears.
It all happened in a whirlwind.
Odessa and Sherry were confiscated by Agent Taylor while Agent Mitchell gave orders to the others. They were kind enough to let James put some clothes back on before he was dragged into a corner for rapid questioning.
The trinkets were placed back on the cart tray, but it seemed everyone forgot to give them the privilege of clothing. Sherry looked ready to faint as she stumbled over to Odessa and threw her arms around. She wasn't crying, just breathing heavily. She pressed her hand to Odessa's wound to help staunch the bleeding. Odessa sank with her and held her close, knowing that things were not about to get any easier.
As everything unfolded around them, Odessa found herself looking at Sherry's face. Her gaze was fixed on James across the room. Where there should have been fear, there was pure, unadulterated hatred. She hadn't even looked this angry when she found out the truth about Odessa's role in her capture.
She looked like she would kill if given the opportunity.
"Are you okay?" Odessa whispered.
Sherry blinked and shook her head as tears began falling. Sniffling, she surprisingly chuckled. "Sorry, I know I'm going against lesson one. No benefit to crying here."
Giving a small sob herself, Odessa tucked a lock of hair behind Sherry's ear. "Hey, don't tell anyone, but I was crying half the time. Didn't do me much good, either."
"I'm telling you, I don't know about any other trinkets!" James insisted, pulling their attention back.
Mitchell, looking like he had just won the lottery, walked over to the cart. "Where are the others?" he directed at Odessa.
When she didn't answer, his smile dropped. He leaned in closer, expression darkening dangerously.
"There are no others," Odessa said, figuring she may as well rip off the band-aid.
Mitchell went perfectly still. "But you got a recorded confession?"
"Nope."
And with that, James was released with a heartfelt apology and an assurance that he would be compensated for his night at the brothel, along with a promise that the agency would negotiate with the owner about a few free nights.
"You're lucky if I don't sue the shit out of you," James snapped, making his way to the door.
But Odessa doubted he would. He had to be a black market dealer, or a skilled independent seller at the very least. He wouldn't dare draw the attention of a lawsuit. Even if he didn't complete his fantasy that night, he was walking away with the knowledge that reapers were on his tail, and now he could act accordingly.
Odessa swore he winked in her and Sherry's direction on his way out.
Mitchell sent out the rest of the team while he remained in the room with Odessa and Sherry. He loomed over the tray, looking ready to break them both in half. His hands even flexed at his sides as he gathered himself.
"What the fuck was that?" he managed finally, each word coated in malice.
"He was going to kill us both," Odessa said calmly.
She was prepared when the weight of his hand fell on her, but nothing could help the pain of her ribs crushing against her lungs.
"Like I give a shit," Mitchell hissed. "Snakes die. That's how it goes."
"If you're willing to let your best snake die over one creep, you're a fucking moron."
He pulled out his work phone, which didn't surprise her in the slightest. She took the deepest breaths she could manage, though it wouldn't do her much good. He was going to choke her until she passed out—it wasn't the first time. But when he finished tapping at the screen and looked down at her with relish, her collar didn't tighten.
Sherry gave a shrill squeal. She fell to her knees, clawing at the collar. Odessa gasped and bucked uselessly, every one of her injuries smarting as she fought.
"Quit it!" Odessa pleaded. "It's not her fault! I made the call!"
"She's nothing but a distraction to you," he said grimly. "Maybe this will show you what happens when you let your precious little wants get in the way."
He let her up, and she rushed to Sherry. It wasn't mercy; he intended for Sherry to die in her arms.
"If I lose her, you lose me!" Odessa shouted. "I'll fuck up every job, and you can choke me to death, too! Now stop!"
Mitchell let it go on for a few more seconds, but he did stop, looking weary. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Odessa? You ruined a perfectly set-up sting because you couldn't let your girlfriend take a little punishment."
"It won't happen again. I know she can survive now. I'm going to train her until she's perfect, for real this time."
He paced in front of them while Sherry wheezed and leaned against Odessa for support.
"The station's not gonna go under just because two little snakes are gone," Mitchell said, coming to a stop in front of them. "Either she's an asset or a problem. She'll make it clear which one when she goes on her first solo job."
With that, he scooped up Sherry, leaving Odessa alone on the tray. At first, she was confused as she watched Sherry get handed off to Agent Taylor in the hallway. But as Mitchell shut the door behind him and started taking off his jacket, she knew precisely what was happening.
She wanted to collapse and sob and beg that she couldn't take anymore tonight, but she was better than that. She held her ground as he loosened his tie and gave her a deeply possessive look.
"Well, my shift's over just about over," he said. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You want to keep your cute little girlfriend? Convince me."
At dawn, Sherry padded to Odessa's room. It had been stripped bare of incentives, including the sheets on the walls. It was as empty as Sherry's now. Her clothes were standard issue. A small spot of blood seeped through the cloth bandage on her arm. She couldn't trade for salve. She had nothing.
Well, not nothing, Sherry decided. She could have been confiscated just as easily.
Sherry crawled up beside Odessa, whispering an apology when she startled her. Odessa lay with her back to the doorway, curled into herself. No blankets. No pillow. Just the two of them. Sherry wrapped her arms around her from behind.
"Hey, queen," she whispered. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"Nothing that hasn't happened before."
"That doesn't mean you're okay." Sherry slipped a hand to Odessa's ribs. "Sorry," she murmured when Odessa flinched.
"No, it's alright." Odessa placed a hand over hers, using it to rub a slow circle on the sore spot. Then she guided Sherry's hand higher and left it on her breast. Sherry squeezed gently and ran her thumb up and down. As right as it felt, Sherry stopped herself.
"Aren't you tired of being touched?" Sherry murmured.
"You're not them." Odessa's voice sounded tight. "You're soft. You could never hurt me."
Moving Odessa's hair out of the way, Sherry pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, trailing up until she reached her jaw, her cheek. Her lips brushed Odessa's ear. "Tonight may have been a bust, but on a normal job, it must feel good to put away sick fucks like that bartender," she whispered.
Odessa gave a weak laugh. "You're buying into the bullshit, huh? Saving the world? You realize we're not helping anyone, right? Just sending off our 'rescues' to a different circle of hell."
"At least the sick fucks are joining them along the way."
Odessa turned in Sherry's arms to face her more fully. "Rebels join them just the same. Tell me you know that."
Sherry was quiet for a moment, feeling an odd sting of guilt for something she hadn't even done yet. "I know."
She reached for Odessa's chin and gently guided it closer. Their lips touched softly at first, then fell into deeper, more frantic kisses. The fluorescents beat down mercilessly on them. Anyone could watch, but they didn't care.
"I think I'm ready to start doing my job," Sherry said between kisses as they leaned their foreheads together.
Odessa snorted. "I can't tell if you're lying."
"Then I know I'm ready."
#gt#gt writing#giant#tiny#giant tiny#gt horror#my writing#print universe#trinket universe#heart of gold#playing with fire#odessa#sherry#agent mitchell#agent taylor#james#size difference#mywriting
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Crossing The Threshold Part 2, Day 1
Distinguish the Dreamer. Light the incense for the Perception of time - Kingsblood, Vanilla, Purple Lotus, Peacebloom, Tiger Lily, and Firebloom. Recollection of Memory. Strand of Body and Spirit. Word of Exiting - “Mithryn”.
Let the Memories be inscribed upon the bark. Once again, I have crossed the threshold and swam through the glass pool into the Emerald Dream.
The subtle aroma of kingsblood enters the nostrils as I look around where I am. I am within a ring of towering white mushrooms, warped at the very top to create a canopy where the Dream’s skyline of blue, greens, purples, and yellows pierce through. Even in my corporeal, viridian state, there seems to be a soft sensation of warmth that embraces me.
As I look forward, the fungal structures part as to open an accommodating gateway for myself. How considerate of them! Exiting the white walls, I turn around and observe the closure of the doorway and cannot help but smile. Thus, my journey begins once anew.
The great tones of the Dream begin to sing as I wander away from the enclosure, all captivating in their own way. Creeping beneath the orchestra, there is a low, soothing hum of an oaken wind flute, beckoning one perceptive enough to seek the source.
As the serene tones become more and more present, a waft of maple cuts through the air.
No. It can’t be.
I begin to run towards the composer of such a song, the permeator of such a scent, leaping across quiet streams, bounding over fallen logs, and sidestepping all manner of curious beasts.
I view an enclosure not unlike the mushrooms I arrived in, but instead of towering toadstools, I am met with a barring bush. Wisps of faint blue light exit between branches and leaves, and as I push them aside, I look to see that An’she’s golden honey has bathed the individual in his radiance.
A massive Tauren sits on a crudely sprouted wooden chair, near-corporeal in form, radiating the same deep blue hues that came from where I entered.
I cannot be certain if this is some sort of trick. As I take my first steps within the copse, a smile cracks upon the corner of his lips. The Tauren lets out a hearty chuckle.
“Kid, if you’d think you can get the jump on me after all this time, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Caution be damned. A foolish notion, I know, but this has to be him. I run up to face the ethereal tauren, still coated in the deep blue that I witnessed upon arriving here. He stands up and looks down at me. Stars, I forgot how huge he was. He starts to laugh as I start to cry.
I leap towards old Mosshead with the widest possible hug I can give a Tauren, tears streaming from my eyes. As we did many times before, he reciprocates with a firm squeeze of his own. Even as translucent beings, the embrace still had that unique warmness to it - more pleasant than An’she’s gaze and far more memorable than any dawn I had the pleasure of being awake to see.
I take a step back and he uproots a stump from one of the lower layers. We sit across from each other in our makeshift chairs and stare in silence for a brief moment.
“Ardenweald. That explains it. How are you even here, then?”
Mosshoof laughs. “Atvir, kid, I wish I knew that myself. There were unpleasant stirrings in the Weald. Part of me thinks I yearned to be away from danger, while part of me thinks I was getting tired of the color purple.”
Anteph lets out a deep sigh. “I am glad to be here, even if it is brief. I see that things are chewing at your spirit, kid. Let’s talk.”
And so I rambled on and on about all that happened since his passing. He surprised me about one thing.
Letting out a wide grin, Anteph laughs. “The Dreamer! Hah! She’s residing in Ardenweald. Her wildseed arrived and was drawing all sorts of attention, both good and bad. I have no idea how the Queen did it, but she is there. I’ve seen her wander around.”
The rambling continued. As it was before, Shan’do Mosshoof listened intently with great interest as I told him of my latest experiences.
As I concluded my discussion, he had a sly grin across his face. “You talked about one woman a lot. Do you love her?”
I blink in response, face turning a deep purple, and shrug slightly. He laughs. “Hah! Three hundred years old and it’s like you told me some sort of dark secret. Love is a great thing, isn’t it? It can be scary at times, being close to someone you care for deeply. I’ll not bore you with the hypotheticals as you seem to have more than enough on your mind. I have a question for you, though - what would you do if you weren’t afraid?”
I take a deep breath and smile. “Nothing. Were I not afraid of such a prospect, I do not think I’d be me. I suppose if I was less afraid before, I would have let my feelings be known sooner.”
The deep blue is starting to fade into form as my Shan’do becomes more corporeal. He puts on the great mask resting on his chair and nods. “Good. Being your honest, true self to share with someone you care for is important. Stand, Thero’shan.”
I do as my teacher tells me. He gently presses his ghostly thumb upon my forehead as the colors of Ardenweald continue to escape his being, tendrils dissipating in the air. “Sometimes, you have no opportunity to prepare. Let the focus of the staff take rest and become one with the wood. Let the claws coil in and become a great shillelagh. The simplest of things can be the greatest of solutions.”
I feel a surge of something radiate throughout the body. It feels like no natural magic, but I am filled with an insight that I did not feel before. He lowers his hand and takes a step back. Only the upper half of his body is present.
“I return to the Weald, Atvir Leafshadow.”
I slowly bow towards him. “Farewell, Shan’do Anteph Mosshoof. Shanna melor'ne adala fal.”
All but the head remains now as I notice him nod towards me. “Theia-shoush ahmen.”
A faint echo reaches the back of my mind. “I wish I told you sooner, but I love you like a son. Take care.”
I never realized that the scents of kingsblood and vanilla ran their course, as the bitter tinge of purple lotus permeates the air.
I sit upon the stump he generously provided and begin to laugh which is immediately followed with tears of joy.
“I love you, too.”
(Other days below)
Day 2
Day 3
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Do you keep to a writing schedule, or do you just work on whatever you feel like writing at any given time?
Ugh. UGH. This question pains me (in a good way). I make... made... a valiant effort to keep to some semblance of a schedule. For instance, before I got sidetracked with What You’d Thought Lost, I was trying to alternate between my two “main” fics. I planned on alternating two chapters of Breaking Cycles with two chapters of Masters of Destiny. But sometimes I just couldn’t stick to that schedule. I find that if I’m struggling to write a scene/chapter, it’s best to drop it and work on something else. By the time I finish with that, I’m usually ready to resume what I “should” have been working on.
Now the whole concept of “scheduling” might be going right out the window. I’ve got so many ideas all bursting to come out at once. I’ve tried putting them off, but the more I do that, the more preoccupied with them I become. So I’m probably going to be known as “that author with an obnoxious amount of WIPs” soon.
Curse the greedy goblin in my head. I give him plenty of enrichment in his enclosure, but any time he sees a shiny new WIP outside the confines of his cage, he reaches his grasping little claws and rattles the bars until I give in.
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pull apart at the seams (3)
continuation of the Shake & Pet prompts, commissioned by kofi fiend anon! all my love 2 thank them for the support!
warnings: keeping a person as a pet, captivity, jerk giants (not too prevalent in this one), bad self care, dehumanizing language
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Patton woke to bright sunlight streaming through the window, and took his time rising, stretching his arms out in a move that made his spine pop.
A tiny movement in the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he turned to smile brightly at the human sitting on the soft, spongy floor of his enclosure.
“Good morning, kiddo!”
V blinked at him dazedly for a moment before dipping his head in a nod, making Patton’s smile fade a little. The human was sat slumped in the same spot Patton had left him, as though he hadn’t even shifted position throughout the night. Those bags under his eyes… Had the little guy even slept?
As though reading his thoughts, V got to his feet, moving up towards the bars with that carefully neutral expression plastered on his face like a mask. Patton’s lips twisted to the side slightly, but he didn’t let the feeling linger, lest V see it and panic. For such a little creature, he was certainly quite perceptive.
Popping the cage door open with ease, Patton reached in and curled his fingers around V’s form, marveling as always at the feeling of the tiny heartbeat thudding away under his fingertips. He was careful to avoid touching him with his claws, though they probably couldn’t hurt him. Patton filed them down to keep them dull, his teeth and pack more than enough to protect him.
V did his best to repress it, but Patton could still see the way he shuddered as he was lifted into the air, body tense with the strain of not panicking. He wished he could soothe the little guy, but the human seemed to respond badly to any sort of implication that he wasn’t acting perfect. Patton wanted to reassure him, but V still hadn’t spoken a single word to him, and he didn’t want to risk driving the human to further panic.
He curled the side of his hand against his chest, providing a stable wall behind V. It had taken some trial and error, but he’d found that the human was most relaxed when transported like that. It made sense, really. Humans didn’t have wings like pixies or avians, and they certainly didn’t have magic like sprites. The poor little things were defenseless this high up.
“Okay, let’s go get some breakfast!” Patton announced cheerily.
V tensed against his palm, little chest rising and falling slightly faster, and Patton couldn’t help but feel a twang of sympathy. The human had this reaction to the strangest things, and he could really only blame it on what the shopkeep had told him when he’d bought V.
“You’ve come at just the right time,” the seller had assured him, smiling pleasantly as he waited for the transaction to go through. “This one used to be a handful, real mouthy.”
Patton definitely believed it. The itty bitty glare he’d sent Logan was evidence enough.
“Luckily, he was recently put through a conditioning program, and now he’s mellowed out quite a bit. We have a refund policy of course, but I have a feeling you won’t need it.”
A condition program. Patton had nodded along, smiling mildly, but the thought was enough to make him grimace. He didn’t want a ‘mellowed’ human. He wanted one that would speak to him and be willing to tell him what they really thought, without softening anything for fear of hurting his feelings the way Ro and Lo did.
It was why he’d chosen the tiny human, labeled ‘V’, out of all the rest. His tiny body shook so hard with fear he was practically vibrating, but those mismatched eyes told a different story. He hadn’t given up yet, Patton was sure of it.
Which is why it was such a shock to have him become so… docile, all of the sudden. Patton shot another worried look down at V as he descended the stairs into the commons. Sure, he preferred to not be bitten, but at the cost of V suddenly losing all of his spirit? At this rate, Patton would never hear him talk, conditioning or no.
“Morning, Lo!” he greeted as he walked into the kitchen and saw the other werewolf seated at the counter. He leaned over to brush cheeks with his packmate, and curled his hand over V a bit more to protect him from any accidental squishing in the half-hug. The human went as still as a hunted rabbit, and Patton noticed Logan’s eyes flicker down to him for a moment before returning Patton’s gesture in a more reserved manner.
“Good morning, Patton. I assume you slept well?”
“Like a rock!” Patton assured him, withdrawing a little in hopes of keeping V from being spooked further. “Our favorite Prince Charming still asleep?”
Logan raised an eyebrow wryly. “More like Sleeping Beauty, that one.” He pushed back his stool and stood, taking his coffee with him. “I’ll go wake him. It’s important to maintain a sleep schedule that doesn’t allow sleep deprivation or oversleeping.”
“Make sure you bring a lightbulb with you!” Patton called after him, making him pause on the stairs with an exasperated expression. In his hand, V peered up at him with obvious puzzlement, distracted from his fear.
“Patton, don’t you dare-“
“That way he’ll be a light sleeper!” he interrupted Logan with a mischievous grin. Logan groaned pointedly, stomping slightly as he continued up the stairs.
Delighted with the response, Patton glanced down at the human in his hand to see if he’d enjoyed the pun. V, sensing eyes on him, hurriedly looked up at him with that same neutral expression, but not quite quick enough for Patton to miss the way the mask had slipped for half a second.
He gave V a halfhearted smile and continued on into the kitchen, carefully setting the human atop a railed ledge where he couldn’t get hurt before starting a batch of pancakes.
As he mixed the batter, he thought about the expression he’d seen on V’s face moments before. It was like a resentful sort of terror, the vicious look of cornered prey that knew they could do nothing but struggled anyways.
Most concerning of all, the look had been directed solely at Logan.
How strange.
#g/t#giant/tiny#sanders sides#ts patton#ts virgil#ts logan#my writing#paats#such a benign acronym for such a sad au#pull apart at the seams#commissioned works#kofi fiend anon#roman has been conspicuously absent lately but hes around i promise
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Song of the Sea: Chapter 2- Scabbard
Hello there! This is chapter 2 of the Pirate!AU inspired fanfic. The original AU’s mastermind is @thenerdyalchemist. I hope you enjoy! Here’s the link to the Ao3 chapter- https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967113/chapters/54936304
Rayla was falling. Falling, like a feather from the seagulls she loved to watch so intently with her parents. Deep, in the cold darkness of forceful rest. Her hands felt feather light, her eyes felt like lead. She knew she had to reach her fathers, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t touch, couldn’t reach- She could see nothing, but she could see everything. She could see her Papa, unconscious on the floor, and her Dad, pacing back and forth in a frenzy. She could see the looks of horror in the eyes of some of the men that had hurt her Papa, hurt her Dad, made her cry. She couldn’t help but forgive them. She was sure that this was all an accident. That they meant to snatch another girl. But the hooded guy’s words echoed in her subconscious. They said they wanted her, and it made her feel… terrified? Sad? She didn’t know, just like how she didn’t know how to comfort Dad when he was sad and sniffly and all messy. Just like she wanted to know then, she wanted to know now, how to hold her Daddy’s hand and tell him that everything was alright, that their little girl was safe and sound… But no matter how hard she tried, her mouth would not open and her vocal chords refused to play a single note. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to understand why her Papa was running away, hiding in the bustling crowd, from Dad. Why her Dad and her Papa were crying, alone in the masses, separated from each other even as they mourned in tandem for her fate. She wanted to feel the rough calluses of the crewmates again, the soft feathers of the seagull that always followed her around. She wanted to taste the briney spray from the sea that she refuses to dive into, the cold treats that she and Papa loved to seek out from their nomadic adventures through the local markets. But, even as she drowned in air, hair whipping around her face like the sail in a powerful storm, she wanted OUT. She wanted to be released from this prison, the shackles of sleep that bound her to her unconscious. She tugged at the chains, feeling hysteria clawing its way up her throat. With one final sigh, she stopped resisting the flow of time and allowed herself to fall down, down, down….
A shiver snapped her back into the physical word, and each waft of cold air brought her closer to full consciousness. ‘Where.. am I?’ She opened her eyes, trying- and failing- to blink out the film that covered her violet eyes. She felt cold bars around her, and she shifted slightly in order to stop the rusty metal bars of her cage from digging into her thighs. The rope binding around her wrists chafed her flesh slightly, and she winced from the friction. The sound of mature voices, both male and female, caught her attention. “The girl is only 10! You can’t possibly…”
“We must...Pirate..”
“Your Majesty…. Hasn’t been trained..”
Rayla strained to hear what they were saying. ‘Their accents are so different compared to Dad and Papa’s…Am I still in Alorminia?’
“The girl couldn’t possibly become the next Pirate King!”
Oh, their voices were getting louder.
“Yes, she can. Any pirate could become the next Pirate King!”
That man.. His voice sounds familiar, but she couldn’t quite place from where.
“Normis.”
“The Pirate King’s partner was no better. He flashed his weaselly eyes at me when I was spying on them!”
Oh, now she knew. ‘That roundish merchant was a spy? I didn’t think about his behavior that deeply.. No wonder Papa and Dad had been able to stay safe for so long! But then..’ She frowned. ‘Then I came along. They had to worry about me. That’s why Papa got hurt in the first place.’ She bowed her head from the uncomfortable position she was in. ‘It was my fault that this all happened. He was hurt, and it was all my fault. All my fault… All my fault.’ The thoughts rattled in her mind, destroying all of her other thoughts. ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have had to defend me. It was all my fault.’ Her eyes began to itch, and she struggled to wipe them without creating any noises that would alert them to her consciousness. She heard a clatter, and her heart dropped in tandem with the spike of fear that impaled it. The dreadlocked man, the one they kept calling ‘King Harrow’, had stood up from his ornately-decorated chair. His forehead flashed with sweat, and beads of the fluid had traveled down the man’s chiseled face, much to the confusion of the young girl. ‘It’s cold in here. Why is the man sweating?’ He cleared his throat, a deep “ahem” rumbling through the air like the panther’s growl. The entire room went silent. “We must not think too hastily. We must not execute the girl. She is too young for us to determine what she will be like as she grows up.” His baritone voice was deep and strange, but it comforted Rayla like a rough-shod fiber blanket on a cold and starry night. She relaxed, her shoulders drooping ever so slightly. ‘I don’t know what ‘eggs-e-cute’ means, but it sounded bad. Or maybe..’ She tilted her head, confused. ‘Cute eggs? I’ve heard someone call me that. Are they.. complimenting me?’ Perplexed by this turn of events, she chose to stay silent instead of voicing her confusion out loud, an action that would most definitely speed the debate up. “My lord!” A woman shot out of her seat like one of Runaan’s cannonballs. “What would decide to do instead? Keep her within these castle walls to spy on us? We cannot trust-” King Harrow held up a gold-encrusted hand, and she halted her barrage. “Opeli.” The lady, newly dubbed ‘Opeli’, shifted at the mention of her name. “We will not let her stay in the guest chambers.” Opeli’s tense position softened, and she began to take her chair once more. “But.” She stopped moving as if she had been frozen in time. “We will not execute her until a final decision is made. Take her to the jail cells.”
“M-my lord! I-”
“Opeli!” The firmness made clear in his tone made everyone in the room flinch, including Rayla. “Do your duty and take her to the jails. She must not be interrogated until a final order is made. Have I made myself clear?” King Harrow looked upon her in annoyance. Opeli curstied hastily and squeaked out a feeble “Yes, my lord.” She turned toward Rayla’s cage. Rayla’s eyes widened in fear. ‘What are they doing to me?’ Opeli kneeled down to open the cage and was met with a small growl, not unlike a young guard dog. She recoiled slightly, then bent down to see the young girl baring her teeth toward her like an enraged hunting dog. “Your Majesty. The girl is awake.” Murmurs of shock and worry reverberated around the room. “How will we transport the girl there?” A voice pierced the tense atmosphere. King Harrow frowned. “Try to take her out. If she struggles, keep her in the cage.” Rayla shuddered. She did not like the cage. It felt so alien, so different from the open seas and decks that she loved to roam. Opeli kneeled down and ruffled around in her robes. After a few moments of searching, she pulled out a small copper key with a quiet “Aha!” She gently inserted the key into the lock that kept the cage’s door shut and began to turn it in different directions. A soft click signalled that her efforts were not in vain. She slowly opened up the cage door. Rayla cowered in the very corner of the small enclosure, terrified of the woman who was now reaching into her space. Opeli noticed her apprehension and drew back, worried. Rayla uncurled herself to take a better look at her. Her long, flowing hair was touching the ground, cleaning the smooth stone floor of the throne room. It framed her oval face like curtains, reminding Rayla of the caramel-colored curtains that Ethari had bought for the couple’s 5 year anniversary. She smiled, no longer the scary woman that had been arguing with the king not long ago. She extended her hand out tentatively, and the woman’s much larger, rougher hand tenderly clasped it. “Hey, there.” Her melodic voice calmed Rayla down a little, quelling her fears temporarily. She took a deep, calming breath. ‘Maybe… everything will be fine.’
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Everything was most definitely NOT FINE. Rayla whimpered underneath the board that doubled as her bed. ‘I don’t like this.. I don’t… don’t…I want Papa...Dad..’ Tears brewed in her eyes, and she let them fall, crystalline droplets twinkling like diamonds in the night-time. “I want to go home…” She curled up into a ball, wishing with all her heart to be back in her parents’ arms, to be back on the ship, frolicking with the crewmates… anything but this. The cold stone sucked away her heat, her love, her happiness… She weeped, letting her sniffles echo into the unyielding stone walls. Her dad was always holding back his emotions, but she wasn’t him, and she let the tears flow like twin rivers, moistening her bluish tattoos. The sound of sniffling echoed back to her, but it sounded… different. Soft footsteps padded on the stone-covered ground, and she shot up, ears perking up ever-so-slightly. ‘Dad? Papa?’ The sniffles continued, and Rayla realized that there was no way it could be her parents. She sighed and fell to the floor, tears continuing to flow freely down her face. She turned her head and gasped silently at who it was. It was a small boy, younger than her for sure, toting a small satchel-sketchbook and a long, winding scarf that trailed down every stair he had previously stepped on like a bridal trail. The boy himself looked no better than her, nose red and yellow in the torchlight, eyes puffy and swollen. He hiccuped, a pathetic noise that would’ve driven her to comfort him, if she wasn’t trapped in a cell. With a jolt, she realized that there were no guards accompanying him. ‘If he hadn’t done something wrong, like me, then why is he here?’ She watched, confused, as the boy plodded over to a nearby jail-bench. He unwound his scarf and turned to the side, revealing his rounded ears. He disappeared into the shadows of an adjacent cell, leaving Rayla to wonder what the boy was doing. A few minutes passed, then she heard a quiet ‘twang’ sound from within. The boy walked out, holding a wooden instrument that Rayla couldn’t recognize. ‘What is he doing?’ He began to pluck it, turning one of the four pegs in tandem. Once he had finished playing that peculiar tune, he reached into the darkness and pulled out a… long… stick? Rayla, at the expense of being redundant, asked herself, ‘Just WHAT is he DOING?’ He placed the stick straight in the middle over the instrument and took a deep breath. And, in the next breath he took, took her breath away. As his stick moved, his fingers danced upon the instrument. The indescribable melody took Rayla on an adventure. She felt the rush of wind and the feeling of leather upon her skin, of crows and green pastures that she had never- and would never- see. She saw cattle grazing, people playing with fans and cherry blossoms in the chill of midwinter, feathers dancing around an awestruck crowd. She ran and laughed and twirled in the petals of the hyacinths, played with people who she had never seen before, flew- then it all stopped. The boy stood, sobbing for breath, as his last note pealed through the air. He stood, panting, as the notes died away and the echoes began to fade. He began to pack his instrument up. Rayla looked on in wonder. ‘That was.. a song?’ She felt her cheeks and they came back wet, even more soaked than before he had came down to serenade the empty walls. As the boy scaled the stairs, she began to wonder. ‘Who was this kid? Why did he come down just to play that for me?’
‘Did he know I was there?’
As the thoughts swirled and hatched in her mind, she closed her eyes, finally content with the heat of the stone below her. How it became that warm, she will never know. However, she knew that it must have had something to do with that boy. She faded into a dreamless sleep, her face finally peaceful in her slumber. Opeli smiled from her place at the scrying bowl. “Callum, what have you done?” She stood up. “I must go. The step-prince awaits.” Her boots clacked against the floor, and the scrying bowl was clear once more, the final wisps of bluish magic fading away from its rim. “And so does she.”
#thenerdyalchemist#tdp#thedragonprinceofficial#the dragon prince#fanfic#pirate!au#ruthari#runaan#ethari#tdp pirate!au
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“Do you really think bindings and bars will keep you safe?” With Roman and Virgil for the captured prompts?
Might happen in the same universe as “Thrash All You Want”. A giant Virgil is being held captive, but it doesn’t seem like he’s the one who should be scared.
Check out more of my work at @hiddendreamerwriting
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“Do you really think bindings and bars will keep you safe?”
Roman looked up, finding the giant had finally spoken. His face was still hidden in shadow, but Roman could make out a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness. They stared down at him, unblinking, feline in their surreptitious gaze.
“Oh, so now the incredible sulk decides to speak.” Roman raised an eyebrow, annoyed at the captive’s timing. The gaze darkened, pupils slanting in annoyance.
“Do you really think these walls can hold me?” The giant continued, shifting closer to the front of the enclosure, a bit of light now shining down on the menacing beast. Roman could make out the individual features now- the fangs capable of tearing through human flesh, and the twitching claws eager to do the same. “A little thing like you can’t keep me contained for long.”
“It will be long enough.” Roman assured him. He had faith in the architectural design, the bars constructed of a metal too powerful for even a giant to bend. Logan had prattled his ear off for an hour going on and on about how this structure would be perfectly safe.
Even so, Roman found himself taking a step back, just in case.
“What’s wrong, Princey?” The giant took note of Roman’s retreat. “Scared?”
“I’m not scared!” Roman put his foot down, frustrated at the way his prisoner managed to wriggle underneath his skin in the most unpleasant manner. “Need I remind you, I am the one who conquered you. I brought you in, I am the victor. You lost, I won. I have nothing to fear.”
“Yeah, only because you cheated.” The prisoner rubbed his hand against his neck. Though he could not see it from this distance, Roman knew if he looked closer there would be a marking left from where Roman had pricked the beast with a powerful tranquilizer. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, then we’ll see how strong you really are.”
“Stop it.” Roman growled.
“What, getting defensive?” The giant leaned closer, and it felt as though his eyes were peering into Roman’s soul. “It’s because you know I’m right. A tiny thing like you is nothing, I could snap you in half like a twig.”
“You just like to be vile, don’t you?” Roman shuddered, imagining how easily the giant could fulfill such a promise.
“What, I can’t be honest?” Closer the monster came, reaching out a hand and wrapping its claws around the bars.
“Well…just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it.” Roman muttered irritably, scuffing his shoe as the beast continued to shift. He took another step back.
“I suggest getting a bit further back, Princey.” The giant advised. Roman paused, surprised to hear the tone was more genuine than teasing, and filled Roman with more concern than the latter would.
“Why?” Roman uneasily met the giants gaze, noting it looked pleased with itself. That was never a good sign.
“Just thought you’d like a head start.” With an almost casual shrug the giant punched the bar, simultaneously crushing it in his grip. The shattering sound that resulted made all signs of life abandon Roman’s face, leaving him a pale shell of a person as he watched the bar thud to the ground, broken easily apart by the beast. It caused a horrible shudder to traverse through the floor, shaking Roman to his core.
As the giant got to work on the next bar, Roman turned on his heel and ran, hitting the alarm on his way out.
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Alpha (pt. 1)
Jurassic Park au - Han Jisung
*Non-reader insert*gif not mine*
If you ever found yourself passing by the raptor habitat on a weekend afternoon, your ears would most likely be met with a soft melody being sung by a young man, paired with the scrapes of claws racing in search of the source of the aforementioned melody. That source would be Han Jisung, a slender blonde kid in his last year of high school with a spirited passion for music. The boy had gotten a part-time job at the dinosaur park outside the city to save up some money for his own recording equipment that he could take with him to college the following year. The job was lame to say the least, it was mostly mopping around the backstage area of the park and occasionally doing other mundane tasks like getting coffee for one of the trainers or bringing a new shipment of plushies to the orange haired boy that usually worked the plushie stand (Jisung was pretty sure he recognized the kid from school but he could never be sure). The position, while it paid well, would’ve seemed almost too boring to be worth it for anyone else but that was perfect for Jisung. He saw his long hours spent mopping as a chance to think on his music, mentally writing new lyrics and creating new melodies inspired by some of the random noises that could be heard around the park. He often found himself singing along to whatever his mind had started producing, just like he was now. His blonde locks blew slightly in the wind as he lifted his head at the familiar sound of raptor claws scraping against the hard habitat floor. Not even a full minute until he saw the tall forms of the dinosaurs emerge from the bushes, charging at their full speed towards him. A wide grin spread across his lips as one came up to him, her face only a few mere inches from his own separated only by the thin metal bars. He stopped his singing as the other four raptors in the pack came up behind the first. “Good afternoon ladies,” he laughed, reaching a hand through the bars and gently patting the snout of the closest.
Jisung hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the dinosaur confinements for his first two weeks on the job since all new employees had to undergo a nearly hour long safety briefing that none of his supervisors had ever felt like giving him. But after he had finally had the briefing, he ended up spending most of his time around the enclosures since the other guy he worked with hated cleaning back there. Jisung remembered the surprise he felt when the raptors had walked right up to the gate when he was mopping over there for the first time, but never had he ever felt afraid of them or any of the other dinosaurs for that matter. The park had plenty of security measures in place to keep him safe, right? None of the other dinosaurs had ever paid him much mind so to see the bloodthirsty pack of raptors staring him down like he was a chocolate cake and it was their birthday, left him a bit unsettled. It took a few more of these raptor encounters for him to put together that they were attracted by his singing and something about that made his heart swell. Several months passed and all Jisung’s older coworkers had jokingly dubbed him the ’Raptor Whisperer’, which he secretly loved. Jisung was never good at making friends at school but in these raptors, he'd finally found the companions he felt he’d been missing all this time. It sounded ridiculous and trust me, he knew that but he couldn’t help it. The raptors clearly loved his music and believed he had talent, unlike all the kids at school. The raptors would surely want him to go to college to study music and follow his dreams, unlike his parents. For once, he had supporters on his side, well…very scaly, sharp-clawed supporters, but when you’re a lonely teenage boy, you’ll take whatever advocates you can get. There was only one thing standing between the boy and his beloved raptors and that thing was-
“Ah, if it isn't the raptor whisperer, again,” he jumped slightly at the voice behind him and quickly retracted his hand from Daisy, the youngest raptor’s snout. She made a low sound, almost like a whine and Jisung shot her an apologetic glance. “Hey Lucas,” he smiled innocently up at the taller man who was walking up to him carrying a big bucket full of meat. “Flirting with my girls again, are ya?” Lucas joked in his deep voice, letting out a shallow chuckle. The younger boy laughed halfheartedly and shook his head. Lucas was one of the park’s dinosaur trainers, only certain species were allowed trainers to look after them, usually just the ones the labs had deemed smart enough to potentially form emotional connections and take commands. The velociraptors were the first species to be given a trainer and Lucas had been with the original pack since their birth, which was rare; that had only happened one other time with the Spinosaurus’ trainer, Chan. The current pack of Dahlia, Jasmine, Amaryllis, Magnolia and Daisy were the second generation of raptors that the park had bred and had only been a week or so old when Jisung first met them. Not that you really would be able to tell with the rapid growth formula given to all baby dinosaurs in the park. Originally, Jisung had gotten along with Lucas just fine. He’d ran into him a few times while running errands around the park or in the employee break room; he was always pleasant and enjoyed joking around with the younger boy. But something about Lucas changed when he lost his raptors to a sudden illness. Lucas would still make his jokes but Jisung could hear the clear bitterness behind his words and more than once had he caught the loathsome gleam in the man’ eyes. Of course, Jisung tried not to take anything personally since he understood that the raptors had meant a lot to Lucas and it was probably hard for him to move on from their deaths. Though Jisung had never gotten a chance to meet them, he remembered how endearingly the trainer would speak of them and it was apparent how much he really loved them. He could also recall a time when he'd overheard Lucas telling one of the behavioral researchers that the new raptors weren’t responding the way they should’ve and he was really struggling with connecting to them the way he did with his original pack.
“You should go. I gotta feed these bitches before I can go home,” Lucas’ gruff voice pulled Jisung out of his thoughts as he looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” “You heard me, kiddo, get outta here,” Jisung shook his head, taking a step towards Lucas, “No. What did you call them?” The trainer raised an eyebrow at the shorter male and simply scoffed, “And you wonder why they won’t listen to you! They aren’t going to respect you if you don’t respect them first!” He scoffed again, “Now you’re some white knights for these bitches? They’re dinosaurs, kiddo, they don’t know shit. You think they care what I call them? You think they care about you and your dumb singing? Wake up, buddy, they really don’t give a fuck about you,” the following moments were a blur to Jisung, he felt the rage bubble up within him, he heard the pack hiss behind him, he felt his fist collide with Lucas’ jaw, he felt himself being grabbed and hauled off by a couple of security agents, he heard his manager tell him to take the rest of the day off to cool down but he didn’t really process any of it until after the bus ride home as was laid in his warm bed. He couldn’t figure out what had come over him, yeah Lucas was being a dick but it really wasn’t like himself to punch someone like that. Jisung preferred to let things like that roll off his back and not let them get to him. Maybe it was just because he brought up his music which was already a touchy subject. It didn’t matter what caused it, it was wrong and Jisung felt himself fill with regret. Sighing, he rolled over and closed his eyes, decided to apologize to Lucas first thing the next day. If he didn’t get fired, that is.
Jisung hopped off the bus and charged through the workers’ park entrance, hastily scanning his employee card as he went past in order to clock in. His blonde locks bounced as he raced through the park towards the raptor exhibit, he was determined to tell poor Lucas he was sorry before the man could hate him forever. He scanned his card again, unlocking the gate into the backstage area behind the exhibits. Suddenly he stopped as he came up on the raptor habitat, the entire area was blocked off and full of police officers and scientists from the lab all running around frantically. He felt like his mind was in a haze again as he deftly continued walking towards the barricades. Had something happened to his raptors? Were they sick like the last ones? He forced down the tears beginning to well in his eyes at the thought of something happening to his raptors. All of a sudden, he collided with the ground and he felt his mind clear itself of the fog as he looked up to see the person he’d bumped into looking concerned down at him. “You okay?” the guy asked and he recognized the distinct voice as that of Changbin, another one of the park’s trainers. Changbin was the trainer for a small group of Gallimimus, Jisung was always curious about him since he only ever talked to Chan and seemed to go out of his way to keep his hands in the pocket of his black hoodie at all times. Jisung stood and turned his gaze away from the slightly shorter man and back to the scene before him, “Did…” he choked on his words a bit, swallowing hard before continuing,” Did something happen to the raptors?” Changbin remained silent for a moment before he asked, “You really didn’t hear?” the blonde returned his gaze to the brunette and shook his head slightly, feeling the anxiety grow even more in his stomach, “Lucas is dead.”
#han jisung#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#stray kids blurb#stray kids angst#stray kids blog#stray kids au#han jisung blurb#han jisung imagine#han jisung angst#stray kids imagines#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz au#skz angst#seo changbin#bang chan#lee felix#kim seungmin#yang jeongin#kim woojin#lee minho#hwang hyunjin
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Far From Yesterday - Ch 21 - Marissonshipping
Here’s chapter 21. :)
‘Hey, Alex...' A voice muttered in his ear, causing the Charmeleon to groan. He rolled over, shoving away the Pokemon nudging him. He only got a few moments of peace before he felt someone pawing at him once more. 'Alex, wake up!'
A silver eye cracked open, before it pressed closed once more. 'It's the middle of the night, Lucas,' Alex muttered, but the Electrike didn't stop. 'Just let me sleep...'
'But dude, you gotta wake up,' Lucas said, sounding both eager and on edge. 'The sky is all weird!'
'Well, when it's nighttime the sky gets all dark, you see...' Alex began, wincing as Lucas shot several sparks in his direction.
'Not funny! I'm not talking about nighttime– the sky is glowing all green!' Lucas exclaimed, and the Charmeleon stiffened up. Silver eyes shot open, the Charmeleon suddenly rolling to his feet, causing the Electrike to leap back.
Alex's eyes were wide, and he whipped his head up towards the small window of their enclosure. He told himself that this was just a mistake, he was just over reacting, Lucas had just probably saw a green light on a plane or something–
His heart skipped a beat as he stared through that small window though, fear filling his silver eyes. For a moment he couldn't move, staring up at the auroras flickering across the sky. The green lights danced, the sight almost hypnotizing, but it only filled the fire type with fear. He felt like a small Charmander again as he watched the lights.
'N-no...' Alex whispered.
'Pretty weird, isn't it?' Lucas said. 'Looks like lightning! But slow... and green... and yeah!'
'No!' Alex screeched, the shrill sound making Lucas scramble back as Alex leapt to his feet. Claws dug into the ground, his tail lashing as he stared up at the auroras– this had to be a dream– this couldn't be happening, not again.
'Um... Alex?' Lucas said uncertainly, but the Charmeleon had already scurried towards the hole they had been digging. Claws scratched at the soil, attempting to burrow even deeper. The Electrike watched him in confusion as he scraped at the dirt, but the earth was nearly rock beneath.
'N-no...' Alex whispered. 'It's back, it's b-back, it's back...'
'Dude?'
'The monster is back!' Alex cried, his whole body trembling. Memories flooded his mind, the terrifying moments that had been seared into his mind. The light from the auroras flared across their cell, causing the fire type to inch back. Tears stung his eyes, scales rattling as he stared up at the horrid sight.
'...You mean the lights?' Lucas asked uncertainly, glancing towards the window.
Alex swallowed, heart pounding as he tried to gather his racing thoughts. 'Th-they come from a monster...' He whispered, slowly climbing out of the hole with shaking limbs, and he began pacing the room. 'It must have followed her here... it followed her and now it's back,' Suddenly he froze up– eyes widening with fear. 'The baby!'
A new fear rose in Alex, one even more intense than when he had seen the lights. The baby... if the monster got near Mairin, if it took control of her again, then it wouldn't just be her at risk. The little baby growing within her... His thoughts turned towards his mother, and the egg that had been growing within her.
He couldn't let the monster take the life of another unborn child.
'...You said one of your pack mates was gravid, didn't you?' Lucas said, pawing at the ground, clearly not sure what to make of what was happening. 'The r-rest of your pack will be protecting her though, won't they...? That's what packs do...'
'I– she's not–' He began, flinching, and he closed his eyes. 'W-we need to get out of here,' Alex whispered, eyes sweeping their prison. 'Now.'
'Operation tunnel-out isn't going too well though,' Lucas said, glancing at their hole. It was about five feet deep and perhaps seven across, which was impressive on its own, but they simply hadn't been able to dig further. The ground was like rock, and it was only a matter of time until they hit the foundation of the building. Alex hissed at the hole, several cinders flying from his mouth.
'We need out of here,' Alex muttered, a growl rattling his throat, and Lucas inched back. He didn't give the Electrike any heed, forming a Dragon Pulse and launching it at the metal bars. They rattled slightly when struck, but held firm. 'We need out!'
'If we could break out of here we would have already done that,' Lucas said, pawing at the ground uncertainly, cringing as a silver-eyed glare was flashed his way. 'I thought tunneling would work but–'
'We're going to be carted off to fights if we don't get out of here!' Alex screamed at the top of his lungs, wheeling around to face him. 'Don't you get it?! They'll be pitting us in matches where one Pokemon won't be coming out alive! That's what'll happen if we don't get out of here!'
'Dude–'
'And if we don't get out of here now that monster is going to hurt my family!' Alex's cries rose to a roar, echoing throughout their prison. 'It took everything from me! My mother, my brother!' He started shaking, claws trembling. 'It's going to find Mairin again, it's going to hurt them again, and this time another innocent child will suffer! And I'm not losing my family again!'
Alex spun around, lowering his head and charging at the bars. He slammed his entire body against them, rattling against his weight. His scales ached from where he had crashed into the metal, and he stumbled back to charge again. Lucas watched him with wide eyes, the Electrike unsure of what to do as he watched his friend bash himself against the metal bars. Alex let out desperate cries with each charge, unrelenting as he slammed against them.
Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. They were going to get hurt again...
A whimper of pain escaped him as he slammed his body against the bars once more, but still they held firm.
I need to stop the monster...
Bruises formed along his scales, his desperation the only thing that kept him dragging himself around for another charge.
I need to protect the baby...
'Alex, you're hurting yourself,' Lucas whispered, taking a step forward, but still Alex threw himself at the bars. They creaked and shook, but yet they didn't even bend under his weight.
I... I need to... I need to protect Mairin...
A surge of energy washed over him as he lowered himself for another charge, a burst of light flaring up as he raced forward. The bright glow engulfed his whole form as he ran, his body humming with energy. He could feel himself growing with each step, body expanding as he rushed forward. His body swelled in size, neck stretching high out. Something burst free from his back, and he could feel his spikes and claws lengthening as he charged forward.
The sudden glow died down, and the newly evolved Charizard slammed into the bars.
The metal was as nearly unyielding as it had been before, barely even bending as a mass of muscle and scales slammed into it. But the hinges and screws that had been holding the bars to the wall had reached their limit– being torn right from the cement walls as Alex bashed into the metal bars.
Crash!
The bars were sent flying into the hallway, clattering against the ground as their enclosure was ripped open. Alex huffed, body shaking as he stared at the now-open entrance, blinking in surprise. His prison suddenly seemed much smaller, his head nearly scraping against the ceiling as he stood there. He shifted, his long neck craning far above the ground.
He could feel a ridge of spikes running down his neck, and two large... things were spread out across his back and sides. He shifted, the limbs unfamiliar to him as he instinctively folded them against his back. His tail was thick and muscular, a bright flame crackling at the end, and his claws curved to a deadly point.
He slumped against the wall, the sudden burst of energy from the evolution now gone. He pressed his head against the cool wall, a faint ache from his charges, but over all he felt unharmed. Something on him scraped against the wall as he shifted, and he lifted up a clawed hand to his head, frowning as he felt some-sort of crest right in front of his new twin horns.
'Woah...' An awed voice said from behind him. 'Dude, you look awesome...'
'I...' Alex said slowly. 'I evolved...?'
It was as if a stranger was speaking, his voice a deep rumble, and he couldn't help but flinch. He sounded strange, he felt strange... even everything looked strange. He twisted his head, his long neck making it so he didn't even have to move his body to look around. Lucas looked tiny– it felt as if one misstep would crush him!
'You look like a dragon,' Lucas decided after a moment. 'I've only seen one before– it was huge and blue! But you look like it!'
Alex's claws grasp the mega stone around his neck, the realization that he was now a Charizard settling in. Perhaps not a true dragon... but he was evolved. The goal that so many Pokemon looked forward too, and he was now here. He knew that he should be excited, happy... but he simply looked out into the hallway, closing his silver eyes.
'We got to get moving,' Alex said, taking a shaking step forward– and his wings instinctively flared open for balance. 'This may be our only chance to–'
Alex didn't get to finish his sentence, muttering a curse under his breath as he glanced down the hallway. Clearly slamming metal bars across the room didn't go unnoticed, as he could make out at least two human guards, and several Pokemon. The Charizard tensed, attempting to hiss, but a deep snarl rumbled out of his throat instead.
"...Um... I don't think that's a Charmeleon we have to deal with, Ross..." One of the guards muttered uncertainly.
Alex opened his maw, preparing a Dragon Pulse. The draconic energy filled his mouth in seconds, crackling as it grew. He released the attack, the burst of energy easily the most powerful Dragon Pulse he had ever unleashed. The twisting blue energy slammed into a Barbaracle, knocking it off of its feet. Silver eyes swept over the other Pokemon with the human, which was a Donphan.
'Come on!' Alex cried, turning and racing away in the opposite direction. He felt himself falling forward, arms reaching out to catch him. He tried not to think as he began running on all fours, simply letting instincts guide him through this new form. Lucas weaved between him, the much swifter Electrike taking the lead. They passed by other cages and enclosures, the Pokemon within either fast asleep or tiredly lifting their heads as they raced by.
'Eek!' Lucas cried, skittering to a halt as he rounded a corner. Alex craned his head around and found two more humans coming towards them– with a Seviper and Granbull accompanying them. His whole body tensed, knowing that these Pokemon would be trained to take on powerful Pokemon. 'N-now what?!'
He pushed himself onto his hind legs, claws curling as he thought of the lights dancing across the sky. Alex bared his teeth, a Fire Fang filling his maw. 'Get ready to fight– because I'm not going down quietly.'
Lucas shifted, before lowering himself into a charging position, electricity crackling around his body. A Spark formed around him, and with a howling bark he raced towards the humans coming towards them. Alex tensed, before whipping around and lashing out at the ones approaching them from behind. He sank his Fire Fang into the Donphan, lifting it up into the air and sending it flying back into one of the humans.
'For the pack!' Lucas howled, slamming into the Granbull.
'Trade me places!' Alex shouted as he watched the Barbaracle form a Razor Shell, knowing that the Electrike would do better if he had a type advantage. Lucas used a Quick Attack to avoid a Crunch from a Seviper, twisting and bolting to take on the other two humans.
The Charizard lashed out with his tail as the Seviper changed targets to him, knocking the Pokemon back. He released a Dragon Pulse at the Donphan, before turning to face the Seviper and Granbull– a Shadow Claw draped around both hands. He slashed the poison type across the face, before jabbing his claws into the Granbull's stomach. It took effort to guide this new form in a fight, but the power he held made up for any struggle with his movements– each strike he landed delivering a powerful blow.
The Granbull slammed a Thunder Punch into him, jolts of electricity winding up his body. The Seviper jabbed a Poison Tail into his gut, the blade-like end digging into his scales. Alex stumbled back, and one of the humans leveled a metal object at him, a blast echoing through the halls as a net was fired from it. Alex recoiled at the sound, stumbling and tripping over his new large form– and the net was fired over his head, engulfing the Donphan instead.
Lucas attempted a Fire Fang, a small burst of flames escaping his mouth, but it was of no threat to the Barbaracle. Snarling, the Electrike opted for a Thunder Fang instead, sinking his teeth into the Pokemon's arm. Alex slashed with a Shadow Claw at the nearest human, the raw force sending him flying back. A puff of smoke flared up from the Charizard's nostrils as he snorted, a deep growl rattling his throat.
He lashed out with his tail, catching the Granbull in the chest to keep him at bay. The Seviper hissed as it sprang at Alex once more, a powerful Wrap coiling around Alex's neck. He let out a gurgled cry as a Crunch sank into his shoulder, long fangs piercing right below a spike that jutted out from his wing joint. The Charizard stumbled back, attempting to tear the snake off from him.
"Keep 'im steady," One of the humans muttered as Alex struggled for air, one eye cracking open as he saw they were preparing to launch another net at him.
"Trike!" A voice snarled, Lucas speeding away from the Barbaracle towards the human, flames filling his mouth. "Elec!"
A Flamethrower poured from his throat– making the human leap back to avoid the rush of flames. The green Pokemon turned, electricity dancing between his teeth as he sprang towards the Charizard. The Electrike began to glow, the intensity of the light making Alex close his eyes as the Seviper coiled tighter around his throat.
"Sev!" The Seviper screamed in pain, his coils loosening around Alex as a Thunder Fang crunched into his back. Alex gasped for air, black spots dancing across his vision as he opened his eyes to watch a Manectric tear the snake off from him, the glow of evolution fading from around Lucas.
A Poison Tail was formed on the blade-like tail of the snake, but the Manectric simply used his newfound strength to swing the Seviper around, the attack hitting a charging Granbull instead. He released the Seviper, sending it flying, then fired a Flamethrower at the two Pokemon before they could recover.
Alex was down on all fours, bracing himself as he tried to rise. His wings hung open uselessly at his sides, lungs burning as they tried to recover the oxygen they had lost. Claws brushed against the mega stone on his neck, and the Charizard groaned as he forced himself to stand.
Lucas was standing in front of him, eyeing the several humans and Pokemon still standing. The Seviper had taken several brutal attacks, and the Donphan was still entangled in one of the nets. In the course of the fighting Alex and Lucas had managed to break through part of their ranks, so they were no longer surrounded– but they were still outnumbered. The Manectric glanced down the empty hall, then back at Alex.
'Go,' He said, lowering himself into a charging position as the others got ready to attack again. 'I'll hold them off.'
'Wha–' Alex began, his eyes widening. 'Wait, no, I'm not–!'
'If we both keep fighting they'll wear us out and more will come,' Lucas growled, sparks flickering across his yellow mane. His blue fur bristled as he built up an electric charge, shivering as the humans prepared to fire the net once more. 'Go, dude, while you have the chance.'
'I'm not leaving you!' Alex cried.
'Your pack needs you!' Lucas cried back. 'Go!'
He released a powerful Discharge as he called out, a wave of electricity rushing out from him. The Pokemon cringed as they were hit, while the humans let out cries of pain. Alex only hesitated for a moment, before remembering the auroras in the sky. He didn't have time to stay and fight– every moment here was another moment that monster was free. Gritting his teeth the Charizard turned, claws clattering against the cement floor as he charged down the hallway.
The Manectric let out a howl, engulfing himself in a Spark as he rushed towards their captors.
Alex's heart was pumping, eyes stinging as he raced forward. He knew what leaving Lucas here meant, knowing that the Manectric would be sold to the underground if he wasn't able to escape. He closed his eyes for a moment, before speeding around another corner, ignoring the other caged Pokemon that looked up at him.
Thank you, Lucas. Alex thought. I'll be back– I promise.
He could smell fresh air as he ran, the hallways getting wider as he continued on. His eyes scanned the room, looking for the exit, some way to get out of here. He barely even blinked when he saw two figures down the hall– backup just as Lucas had predicted. The human and Machoke looked unafraid as he ran right at them, running on all fours. He felt his wings on his back, remembering how his mother would use her own to strike with a Steel Wing.
He let them slide open, trying to imagine an energy surrounding them, trying to picture them glow with a metallic light. He could feel the limbs tingling, a faint glow covering his wings as he rushed at the ones blocking his path.
The Wing Attack flared to life, each wing glowing as he charged between the human and the Machoke, slashing at them with the attack. The force knocked them to the ground, allowing Alex to keep running. He rounded one more corner, not even pausing to see if they were standing to come after him. Hope surged within him as he saw a large metal door up ahead– the same door he had been through when he had been brought to this horrible place.
He lowered his head. He wasn't just a Charizard– but he had Tyranitar in his blood. He didn't allow himself to hesitate, stiffening as he forced himself to charge straight at the door.
Crash!
He bashed into the metal door, the force of his charge ripping it from the wall just like he had done with the bars. It was sent tumbling across the asphalt of the parking lot, the Charizard bursting out of his prison and into the night– stepping outside for the first time in ages. The cool air burned against his lungs, heart fluttering as he tasted the fresh air.
The moment didn't last– a mere glance up sending a rush of fear through him. He froze in his tracks– staring up at the sky with wide eyes. He had known that the auroras were there, he had seen them through the tiny window... but even that had been nothing compared to staring up at the wide open sky, the entire night blanketed in those horrifying green rays. An eerie silence filled the streets of Lumiose, only making the sight that much more frightening.
For a moment he felt like a little Charmander again, staring up at the Hoenn sky.
"There he is!" A voice shouted from the warehouse behind him, snapping Alex from his thoughts. He whipped his neck around, and could make out several figures rushing after him. His heart pounded– was Lucas okay? "Don't let it get away!"
He couldn't keep fighting them, he didn't have that time. He stared at them for a moment, before feeling a breeze rush by him. The newly evolved Charizard looked up at the sky, then down at his back. Twin spikes jutted out near shoulders, his two wings quivering in the wind. He raised them, for the first time stretching the limbs out to their full length. Wingtip to wingtip was easily as long as his new body, if not more. A feeling rushed through him, and he wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement.
He didn't listen to the calls behind him, simply lowering himself to the ground as he turned his gaze to the horrible green sky. His tail braced against the ground as his muscles tensed. His whole body coiled like a spring– before he leapt up into the air, wings flapping wildly as he threw himself towards the sky.
It wasn't just his wings or his leap that carried him upwards– he could feel the very air around him twisting, as if pulling him up. It was the same sensation he had felt when using Wing Attack, the same rush he had felt when he had evolved. It was more than just wings, but his flying typing bending the air about him to help him rush up towards the sky. He didn't even hear the cries of outrage from below– heart soaring as he realized he was flying.
In mere moments he was rising above the parking lot, wings working as he took himself higher. Soon he cleared the top of the buildings– the city and the streets below him, and the glowing sky above him. The moment was so surreal, so breathtaking– and for the first time in years he truly felt free.
But it wasn't a moment he could savor– his eyes locking on the auroras as he flew above the city. Something much more important was at risk, something much more valuable than flying through the sky. He angled his wings against the wind, not quite sure how he knew what to do, and began speeding across the city– eyes sweeping the streets below.
---------------------------------------------
Alain suddenly jerked awake– heart pounding.
The faint cries of a Charizard faded from around him, his dream melting away as he found himself suddenly awake. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, trying to take in his surroundings. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, not even under his covers, still in his day clothes. He glanced at the clock, the glowing numbers showing him it was the middle of the night.
It took him a moment for the events of the yesterday to rush into his mind, and he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He wasn't quite sure when he had even fallen asleep, all he remembered was having paced his room as night fell... then nothing. All he could recall after that was the dream he had been having moments before he had woken up, Charizard crying out for him...
"Zah!"
Alain flinched as he heard the same cry again, eyes widening. It was painful how real it sounded, to hear the cries of the one who had been like a sister to him, and he had to tell himself that it was all in his head. He forced himself to stand up, his lights on since he had fallen asleep before turning them off. He wondered if that was what had awoken him, but that still didn't explain what had jerked him so suddenly out of his sleep.
He paused as he reached the for the light switch– the unmistakable swishing of wings making him stop. He glanced at the window, his curtains drawn shut, but he could make out the faint glow of the streetlights from outside. It wasn't unheard of for Pidgeys to fly about outside or for a Murkrow to linger at night, but the sound he had heard clearly came from something much larger. He hesitated for a moment, listening.
"Zah!" A desperate voice called from outside, and Alain went completely still, recognizing the sound right away.
The cries of the Charizard hadn't been from his dream.
His heart started racing, because the call sounded just like the Charizard he knew in his memories. He closed his eyes for a moment, reminding himself that wasn't possible. Still, he had heard the cry, and he didn't know why a Charizard would just be roaming the city. Swallowing nervously he made his way towards the window, carefully listening, but heard nothing more.
He pulled the curtains back, before drawing up the blinds. As he slowly pulled the window open the first thing he noticed was the silence– no cars driving out on the road or the honking of horns. Even in the middle of the night the big city was usually teeming with life. Alain leaned his head out the window, trying to get a better view of the streets. A cool breeze was blowing, sending slight shivers racing down his arms.
"Zah!" A voice cried, and Alain's gaze flickered down to the creature standing outside the front of the lab.
The Charizard was looking up at him, breathing heavily, wings drooped at its sides. There was a red tint to its orange scales, its jagged gray underbelly quite different from any Charizard he had seen before. The fire type's appearance could only be described as intimidating– spines running down its neck, a crest sweeping over his head crowned by twin horns, and two sharp spikes jutting out from at his wing joints. Alain stared at the creature for a moment, freezing as a pair of familiar silver eyes met his.
"Zawah!" The Charizard cried, pointing upwards with its monstrous claws. Alain's eyes settled on the blue gem around the creature's neck, and his mouth went dry. "Zar!"
"A-alex?" Alain stuttered out, almost afraid to believe what he was saying. But there was no denying that those were the same eyes that had belonged to the Charmeleon, his mother's mega stone hanging around his neck. "How– what are you–?"
"Zah!" He screamed, stamping his feet. He looked up at Alain with a pleading gaze, desperation in his eyes. But Alain had yet to notice this, just staring at the Charizard with wide eyes. It wasn't until another rush of wind blew by, and a flicker of movement caught his eyes. His gaze shifted towards the front door of the lab, which was swinging in the wind– wide open.
"What on earth?" Alain whispered, narrowing his eyes.
Alex, tensing in frustration with being ignored, formed a Dragon Pulse in his maw– firing it skyward.
Alain flinched at the burst of light, instinctively glancing up as the attack faded. He went still as he finally saw what was the cause of Alex's panic, barely visible through the towering buildings that lined the road. The man's eyes widened as he stared up at the sky, every muscle freezing as he stared at the green auroras that flared across the night sky. For a moment he couldn't move, fear taking hold of him.
"Mairin!" Alain cried, shoving himself away from the window, scrambling towards the door of his room. He stumbled as he threw it open, charging down the hall. His heart hammered in his chest, the image of the open front door playing in his mind. His heart became heavy as he found Mairin's bedroom door open as well, food scattered across the floor... "Mairin!"
He was panting by the time he reached her doorway– her room and bed empty. A wave of fear crashed over him, the green lights from the auroras tauntingly lighting up her room. This scene was all too familiar to him, this fear all too real...
---------------------------------------------
"Alain!" Bonnie's voice cried, shaking his tent and Max's tent. "Alain! Max! Wake up!"
He groaned as he was pulled out of his sleep, the small Charmander sleeping next to him curling up tighter. The young man sat up in his sleeping bag, glancing to his side as he watched Max fumble for his glasses. The tent door unzipped open– revealing a panicked Bonnie, Floette, Quilladin, Dedenne, and Frogadier. The Pokemon were making panicked noises, while Bonnie crawled into the boys' tent.
"What's going on?" Max muttered, a Mightyena curled up at his feet giving a toothy yawn. Alain picked up the Charmander at his side, trying to get the young Pokemon to fall back asleep.
"Mairin's gone again!" Bonnie said, blue eyes lit with panic. "Tent door left open, she's not in sight, but her tracks are headed east," She paused for a moment, swallowing. "A-also that Absol is back, it woke me up and, and the sky is–"
She didn't get to finish her sentence, Alain springing to his feet the moment he heard Mairin was missing. He clutched Alex close to his chest, shoving Bonnie aside as he headed out into the night. The small Charmander curiously glanced upwards, before tugging on his shirt. Alain ignore this, along with the cries of the other Pokemon, heading straight for the girls' tent.
Empty sleeping bags greeted his eyes, an eerie white figure sitting in the middle of the tent. Alain froze up as his icy gaze met a pair of ruby eyes, the Absol that had been stalking Mairin silently watching him. He stiffened up at the creature– the one that always showed up whenever Mairin sleepwalked.
"Where is she?" Alain growled at the Absol.
"Sol," The creature said, standing up and trotting towards him. Alain pulled back, and the dark type slipped out of the tent, looking towards the east, before glancing back at Alain. He didn't want to shove the blame into the Pokemon, but ever since it had shown up Mairin had been reacting strangely. Headaches, being nearly impossible to wake up, and of course the sleepwalking...
"See!" Bonnie said. "Northern lights!"
Alain looked skyward as Bonnie spoke, for a moment there was nothing but stars in the sky, before a wave of green rushed across it. Humans and Pokemon stared up at the sky, watching as the auroras flickered across the clear sky before fading away. There was silence for a moment, before they flared up once more.
"Aurora borealis?" Alain muttered in confusion. "This far south? That's not possible–"
"Those aren't the northern lights," Max said, who had joined them outside. His eyes were wide, looking much more alert than he had a few minutes ago. He quickly jumped back into the tent, dragging his bag towards them. "Those... those were made by a Pokemon."
Bonnie frowned, nervously glancing at the Absol as it pulled up to her side. "I know the Amaura line can creature auroras and stuff, but those are small and locate, they can't cover the sky like that–"
"I don't care what's causing them," Alain growled, kneeling down and grabbing his shoes. "We need to go after Mairin– nocturnal Pokemon can be territorial!"
Alex had slunk up onto his shoulder, the Charmander staring up at the auroras with awe. The little fire type giggled, reaching up with his claws. The other Pokemon let out cries of agreement with Alain, while the Absol merely looked east– where more lights could be seen. Bonnie went to grab her shoes as well, slipping her backpack over her shoulders.
"Y-yeah," Bonnie said. "Didn't you say there were Cacturne on route 111, Max? That's where her tracks are heading!"
Max stumbled out of the tent, a tablet in his hands, eyes flickering across the screen. He had his Pokebelt slipped over one arm, a look of nervous awe on his face as he looked down at the screen. "Cacturne shouldn't be our worry tonight," He muttered, then he glanced at the lights. "I think we're dealing with something much stronger."
"All the more reason to find Mairin," Alain muttered, barely listening to his words. He quickly took off in the direction where the tracks lead, the Pokemon at his heels. He shot a glare at the Absol, but she gave no movement to leave their group, and finally with a sigh Alain looked at Max's Mightyena. "Track her down– like you usually do."
His voice was tense, but the Pokemon seemed to realize the frustration wasn't directed at him. The canine sniffed at the tracks, trotting ahead of the group as he tried to gather Mairin's scent. Max and Bonnie were quickly following after them, trying to keep up with Alain's strides.
"The knight needs to go rescue his princess," Bonnie said with a giggle.
"Now's not the time for jokes!" Alain snapped– ever since Mairin had nearly slept walked into a lake he refused to take her wanderings lightly. There was set determination in his eyes, one hand wrapped around one of his Pokeballs. "We need to find Mairin!"
"Come on Alain," Bonnie said, grinning. "We both know you like her– just admit it."
Alain said nothing, simply following Max's Mightyena towards the desert.
---------------------------------------------
Alain shook himself from the memories, stumbling back in the hallway. The auroras were back, and Mairin was gone... the auroras were back, Mairin was gone...
He ran back to his room, fear coursing through his body. Last time there had been warnings, signs he promised himself he'd be ready for if that monster ever returned. But... but there had been nothing. Mairin hadn't slept walked in years, she had barely been sleeping at all! The only headaches she got were from when she lingered around psychic types for too long, but nothing to suggest that it was back...
But the auroras only proved that the Deoxys had returned.
"Sh-she's gone!" Alain cried, shaking as he turned back towards the window– only to jump back with he saw an orange shape staring right at him. Alex's silver eyes peered at him from the window, panicked whimpers coming from the giant Charizard. He shakily stumbled towards the window and found that the fire type had climbed up to the second story window, claws digging into the side of the lab.
"Zah!" Alex cried.
"M-mairin's gone," Alain whispered, breathing becoming ragged. "She'd gone and I didn't– agh!"
Alex had stuck his long neck through the window, mouth opening as he reached for Alain. Sharp fangs pierced the back of his shirt, careful to avoid his skin, and Alex began to drag him towards the window. Alain struggled against the lizard, but the fire type was easily stronger than the human. A small yelp escaped Alain as he was dragged out the window– and suddenly he found himself dangling from the Charizard's mouth, just like a Skitty carrying its kitten.
"Al-alex...?" Alain said, his panic surging as he stared down at the fall below him if the lizard was to let out. His shirt was painfully cutting into his skin as Alex grasped it in his mouth. "Put me down–!"
Alex swung his neck around, tossing Alain up into the air, letting go of him. A cry of fear escaped him as he was thrown up, stomach twisting as he started falling– right onto Alex's back. He narrowly avoided the sharp spikes on his wing joints by inches, and one of the blunt spines on the lizard's neck hit him in the chest.
"Ow," Alain gasped, one hand grabbing the where he had been hit, the other lashing around Alex's neck to keep him from sliding off. "Wh-what are you doing– you're covered in spikes you just can't throw me like that–!"
Alex glanced back to make sure Alain was secure, before sniffing the air. The lizard then began climbing up the side of the building farther, claws digging into the walls of the lab. Alain let out a yelp, grabbing the nearest spine with his other hand to keep him in place. He was grateful for the Charizard's rough scales, giving him some traction to keep him from falling to the ground. He swallowed nervously, glancing up at the aurora-covered sky as the lizard only climbed higher.
The Charizard let out a snort as he reached the roof, while Alain let out a sigh of relief as Alex leveled out on the top of the lab– Alain no longer clinging vertically to his back. The night was still frightening silent as Alex scurried to the edge of the roof, hooked claws keeping him from sliding off. The wind felt even stronger from up here, and Alain shivered as they looked out over the city, one hand grabbing the key stone around his neck.
"N-now what?" Alain whispered.
Alex unfurled his wings.
Alain's eyes widened. "W-wait you're not thinking of–" The lizard tensed, crouching. "–You've never carried a passenger before–" Alex didn't seem to be listening, down on all fours as he prepared to jump. "–We're three stories up–!"
The Charizard leapt off the roof, and Alain closed his eyes, praying to whatever legendary was listening.
Large wings began flapping, catching a breeze that took them into the air. The lizard gave a proud rumble as he rose up into the sky, wings working to keep them up. Alain slowly opened his eyes when he realized they weren't falling, and found that the were racing above Lumiose City. A stillness came over him as he flew on the back of the Charizard, memories filling his mind...
"Zar," Alex rumbled, eyes locking on the auroras overhead.
Alain's hands tightened on Alex's spine. "...Can you take me to Mairin?"
"Zah!" The Charizard gave a single nod, slowly turning towards where the auroras were the brightest. A sense of dread washed over Alain as he saw those bright lights, Alex angling himself towards the west. He steadily flew on, the fear in Alain growing as he found that the auroras were coming from outside the city– from route 13.
The Lumiose badlands– Kalos' desert.
Alain swallowed. "We're coming, Mairin."
---------------------------------------------
The first thing Mairin noticed was the sand.
She shivered, hating the gritty feeling of the grains between her bare feet, the chill of the desert night making her shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself, a yawn escaping her as she slowly began to awaken. She felt far from rested, feet and legs aching as if she had just been running. She weakly flexed her toes, a frown coming over her face.
She shifted her arms, eyes widening in confusion as she found herself in control of her body. She had so many dreams about the desert– but never once had she been able to have control over what she did. What she had seen were always memories, what happened already set in stone.
So why could she move now?
She looked around– nothing looked out of place from her dreams. The auroras filled sky, the chill of the night, the desert around her... she frowned as she looked around though, beginning to notice that things weren't normally how they were in the dreams.
There was a red tinge to the sand, the grains not the tan like she was used to viewing in her dreams. And unlike the star-filled sky that was covered with auroras there was only a few stars in this sky tonight, a faint glow on the horizon showing that a city wasn't far. The auroras flared out with an intensity that she hadn't seen before in her dreams.
She slowly stumbled back, the realization that this wasn't a dream washing over her.
Everything hurt– her wounds, her legs, her heart. She didn't know how she had gotten here, and her limbs trembled in hunger. She stiffened up as she saw a shadow fall over her– and she quickly whipped around. Her eyes widened as she stared up at the figure hovering above her, empty eyes watching her.
She recognized the creature right away from the picture she had seen– the sight of the alien making her freeze up. The Deoxys slowly landed on the sand, silent as she stared at her with unblinking black eyes. Vivid red skin was highlighted with neon green marks, a gem of the same color embedded into its chest. The creature didn't make a sound as Mairin let out a small gasp, her body feeding her a fear her mind did not know.
She didn't remember seeing this creature, but yet her mind knew she had seen it before. She stumbled back several steps, shaking in fear. Even though no picture had been present in her folder, she instantly knew that this Deoxys was the same one it had spoken of.
The Pokemon was unmoving save for its arms, coiled and unnatural, swaying in the desert night. A slight frown tugged at Mairin's face, instantly noticing that one of its foreign arms was shorter than the other– ends blackened as if it had been burnt away. The creature glanced down at the limb as it noticed Mairin staring, before looking back at her.
She scrambled back, knowing she needed to get away from this creature.
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Flash grenade and sucker punch aside, Jesse’s done well for himself.two down immediately, though non-lethally so more like out for the count for a minute, and three more on his tail. Their rifles were useless at close quarters so he kept them close, weaving and jabbing, every now and then tossing a flashbang in the fray and hiding behind one of the goons’ armored backs just in time to miss it. His ears haven’t stopped ringing since the first goon dropped her cover in his poker game, but he was fine with that. He spent a lifetime training to fight under all means of influences, after all.
They wear black kevlar. The spur of Peacekeeper tore through one layer just enough to reveal glinting steel plates under that. No patches to indicate name, nothing to suggest a department or accountability. Jesse’s no fool, he knows an extraction when he sees one. One of the men, the larger of the two remaining, sways once, his mouth clenched in determination, charges, too slow, too clumsy. He goes down with butt of Jesse’s gun. The remaing two, a man and woman, eyes him, the man panting, the woman red-faced in murderous, when all three still standing tense.
Someone’s clapping.
An Omnic steps into the doorway, a hair thinner than the standard model, an aesthetic choice that required expensive custom work and made them look like needle of a man. Their face is custom, too, the head chiseled just below the eye slits to form a proud cheek ridge, the chin sharp and temple sleek.
“McCree.” It states, voice treated with a slight reverb that makes Jesse think of the dying note of a pair of brass cymbals.
Blood thrums under his skin, hot and alive even where it’s sticky and trickling from his nose and from the graze wound on his bicep, coursing through his seasoned and worn body like new life in the desert. He grins, the thick blood on his lips stretching with protest, not quite dry enough to crack.
Well would you look at that? He’s been found out.
Good.
~~~
He can’t remember if it was his grandmother that originally told him the story, just that she was ancient and had survived famine and war and had only one setting: there was always work to be done. He thinks maybe they shared blood, he has a few clear memories of times she’d lock eyes with him, and while he was a round-faced child and she was wind-browned and papery with age, their brown eyes reflected one another. But then, everyone around had brown eyes. And dark hair. And tan skin.
Even so, she’d put him to work helping the older kids with more complicated chores from the moment he could walk, but she’d also control when they stopped working, be it to eat or sleep, or, on special occasion, to talk the younger ones to sleep. Stories about animals, mostly, about Coyote who stole the sun, or Owl who muttered of things no one wanted to know, or the Lizard with his back to the sun, and Jackrabbit with his many children and tireless foraging.
And he could’ve sworn, while rocking one of his many infant cousins to sleep, that one day, she told him this story, only only told it to him.
Towards the beginning, the creatures of the earth took time to form. Some choose size, like Boar and Desert Cat, other made themselves small and easy to miss, like Mouse and Grasshopper. A few chose the air, and others fought over whether best way to roam the earth was with claws biting into the dirt or hooves to flatten it smooth. Fox, however, chose to walk among them, observing each without deciding himself, so he remained medium sized. Without knowing it, his weaving in and out of the debates of the others made him long and sleek. And when it was almost time for him to solidify his own form, he caught himself admiring Desert Cat, who had chosen definitively the shape of sharp teeth and claws. So Fox tried on sharp teeth, and tried to take up claws, but since he waited so long his teeth were smaller and his claws grew but never sharpened to a point.
A few days after the beginning, Mother walked among the animals with a basket of additional gifts. She gave the Desert Cat Power, Mouse Meekness, Rabbit Speed, and so on until the basket lightened, then emptied. Fox had chosen to wait at the end of the line and observe her give each gift, memorizing each gift, and almost missed that he wasn’t to receive a gift for this choice.
“I’m Sorry, Fox,” Mother said, when she realized her basket was empty.
“It’s okay, Mother,” Fox replied, “Because I know each gift you gave came with a curse. I may never receive a gift, but I’ll never bear a curse, either.”
Mother is great, but she is also terrible, and while she knew she had slighted Fox first, he wounded her with his truthtelling. So Mother reached up to her own head, and plucked a hair, then tied it around Fox’s neck. “For you, I give the gift of cunning.”
And the other animals watched on with jealousy and pity and awe, because Fox had, as he would from then onward, tricked his way into something from seemingly nothing, receiving perhaps the greatest gift of all the creatures. But he also invited the greatest curse, some of the more intelligent animals noted, because though cunning may be a great tool, its curse was curiosity, perhaps the most deadly curse of all.
~~~
Jesse had observed the Omnic for too long, and the woman had recovered and swung her rifle butt down on his knee, the explosive pain driving him to the ground. Hus arms come up, palms out, still grinning, still watching the omnic, even as the woman’s rifle barrel twitches against his temple in her adrenaline shaky grasp.
The omnic continues to walk into the room, but allows their attention to wander around the room, to the damage Jesse’s bar brawl caused. Where it human, perhaps Jesse would be able to follow the path of it’s irises as they traced the turned over tables and chairs, the bullet scars in the wall and the broken glass and splinters. But it’s not, and ll Jesse can see is a flat metal face, scanning the room with a wide sensor. The omnic pauses when it reaches an unconscious goon. For a moment, Jesse thinks they’re gonna nudge the man with their metal-capped foot. It doesn’t, though, just speaks up in their chiming, reverberating voice.
“Reyes always spoke highly of you. Pity he never mentioned how much you liked to make a mess of things.”
Ah. There it is. One of the few names that cut into Jesse’s chest and struck the cold iron splinter where his heart was. Pity, Jesse thinks, as the high and warmth retracts and his focus on the room becomes absolute. The side of his mind that reminds him he’s human is dangerously quiet in this new sharpened perspective. The woman’s breathing to his left hasn’t improved. He must’ve cracked her rib. To his right, the man lifts his rifle, but the motion is stuttered. injured gun arm.
“Means he didn’t like you much,” Jesse replies cheerfully. “He only gave warning labels to people he liked.”
“Is that why you’re here?” The omnic asks, matter of fact.
“You lost me, partner.”
The omnic meets his eyes now, head turned so the point of their chin is accentuated as they looks down their faceplate at Jesse. “Did Reaper send you?”
Jesse’s hands drop, his flesh hand slapping his thigh as he laughs, belly-deep. The woman and the man on either side flinch so hard their barrels nudge his temple. Jesse doesn’t care, though, his laughter echoing off the empty walls while his captors grow ever tenser. “Oh, buddy. Reaper don’t even return my calls. Can’t imagine him sending me orders on some podunk kingpin wannabe.” Laughter dies as soon as it started, eyes sharp on his mark. “Can you?”
~~~
Cunning and curiosity, a chaotic pair in the best of times. Fox goes off on many adventures, observing many great moments, adjusting each in his own spectacular fashion. He creates as many adventures as he disturbs, forming new rules as he shatters old.
After one such adventure, during which he convinces Desert Cat he caused the flood rain by killing a spider, Fox find himself running for his life once his old friend realizes the deception, cackling all the way. Owl follows him by air, until Fox tires and find a hiding place to rest.
“Desert Cat was your friend,” Owl says from where she’s perched on an old saguaro. Her gift from the Mother was Wisdom, and she more than anyone could read Fox’s deceptive patterns.
Fox rests his head on his tail, curled tight against the chill of a wet afternoon, his eyes glowing dimly in the darkness of his enclosure. “He still is. But his gift is Power, and that breeds arrogance. Humility is needed to keep him sane. Besides, what he did to the Rabbits required vengeance.”
Owl is quiet for a long time. “So you used your cunning for the good of others, “ she says, skeptical.
Fox grins. “I always try to.”
Owl is solemn, eyes flat and unseeing, voice weighted with the unseen. “And when you must be cunning, but for the good of no one?”
The curse of Wisdom is Prescience. But just as Owl could understand Fox’s cunning better than anyone, Fox could adopt and adapt to Owl’s forebodence. He licks his lips, and grins again. “Then I will use my gift anyway,” he says, simply, accepting what disaster he may cause as easily as he did the good, “And hope for the best.”
~~~
Omnics can’t narrow their eye slits, especially not if their face is frozen by design for effect. Jesse almost wishes they could, just so he could confirm that he got to the bastard. The Omnic says nothing. Just turns and exits the room, hand clasped behind his back, the epitome of a silent order to kill him if Jesse ever saw one.
Problem one: the man’s gun hand is broken and his wrist ligament overstrained. In his heavy tactical gloves, he can’t feel a fucking trigger much less squeeze one.
Problem two: the magazine on these particular rifles holds fifteen rounds. The woman to his right hasn’t been counting, but Jesse has been.
She pulls the trigger, and gets an empty click. Jesse’s grin never falters, and he dips back, flexing back until he’s out of range of both barrels. Lt. Slow and Injured finally manages to squeeze his trigger and fires, right into the barrel of his only standing teammate’s gun. Shrapnel flashes, and Jesse feels the telltale burn across one cheek, the resulting sound and burst of ricochet enough to throw both aims off. Jesse’s off his knees in an instant, Firing once at the woman, dropping her in a spray of blood from just under her helmet, then the man, who has the time and the audacity to shout NO, nostrils flared, eyes pinpricks, just before his brain matter, too, paints the wall behind him.
~~~
Man barrels into the order of things like, well, Fox, but worse. All of a sudden there’s a new order of Hunter and no one is safe. Not Desert Cat. Not anyone, not even Fox.
In fact, one day, Fox is pacing back and forth, trying his cunning on all sorts of things just to get his paw free from Man’s trap. Off to the side, Desert Cat watches, his tail flicking in both amusement and concern.
“You must be embarrassed,” Desert Cat practically purrs.
Fox stops his pacing, calming his own racing heart enough to feign a calm sitting pose. “Not at all. Man is more cunning, in this instance.”
Desert Cat’s tail stops flicking. His ears draw back. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“No.” Desert Cat is practically spitting. “You’ve been given Cunning! Use it! Use it like you always do!”
Fox knows he’s no catch to Man. He has no meat to him, and his fur is hardly enough to decorate a Man’s child’s regalia, much less a tassel for a full grown Man. But Desert Cat? His pelt would decorate the best of Man’s clothing, his sharp claws and teeth a mark of honor among them. So Fox grins. “Oh I will. But I think I need Boar. Go and find him for me?”
They both know Boar, the Original Boar and none of his dumb children, is three days travel from here. And while Desert Cat could never compete in Fox’s Cunning, he was not stupid. They stare at one another for a long while, then Desert Cat blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice, a long, held blink. “Very well.”
Desert Cat leaves Fox, hesitant at first, then, as his commitment solidifies to this choice, faster as powerful muscles work him into a full gallop away.
Fox watches until he’s far enough, a speck in the distance, then turns his calculating gaze down to the paw trapped.
Wingbeats overhead, soft, a predator’s wing beats. Owl.
To be Cunning, but to the good of no one.
Fox bares his teeth at the trapped paw. “You are Man’s, now.”
He tells his own paw, and in the fashion of the wild, strikes at it with his own needle-sharp teeth.
~~~
Two bullets of Peacekeeper’s six used on the two standing goons back in the old bar.
One to graze the suit of the omnic walking off into his fancy car, said zinger ultimately burying itself in a starburst hole in the gold-plated door of the omnic’s expensive car door. Bullet four flies next, barely waiting for the omnic to turn and look at him, but also burying itself in the gold plate of the car, just in sight of the omnic’s gaze as they turn. Their eyes glow red under the slit of their faceplate once their meet his eyes.
“You can tell Reyes I-”
Jesse shoots to kill, based on where he judged the main processor to be located. He’s close, the omnic almost flickers out entirely, clutching at the bullet wound to their chest. The reverb in their voice shakes even more. “Tell Reyes-”
Jesse shoots again, then immediately goes to reload, watching the second flicker in and out and in and out, so close to fatal for this being. He loads a single bullet. The omnic lets out a noise like aggravated radio static, almost like clearing a throat, then their eyes glow bright, one last time. “Tell Reyes I never agreed to his terms.”
Jesse freezes. The omnic’s eyes flicker. Once. twice. Then go dark, the chassis falling, vacant, to the ground.
~~~
When their gifts are new, Fox approaches Desert Cat with open admiration. Desert Cat’s pride is enough that he accepts the awe of the creature blessed with Mother’s personal gift.
Power’s curse is Arrogance, but among the gift she gave them, Mother did not mention one thing: they were all more complicated than the Gift, more complicated than their Gift’s Curse, because they all, ultimately, existed with choices before the Gift, and would continue to exist after.
So it wasn’t out of Power, or Arrogance, that Desert Cat lay on his back, belly to the stars, mimicking the pose his friend Fox used to a tee, that he says, “I’m not dumb, Fox. You were Gifted with Cunning, but none of us were Cursed with gullibility.”
Fox snuffles a bit, trying to lose himself in the dichotomy of Moonlight on his belly fur and the cool earth on his thicker back fur. But Desert Cat’s word was important to him, so he draws himself together and replies, “Of course not, great Desert Cat.”
Desert Cat growls to hide his preening at such a statement. “We know your nature, then, fiend. Who could trust you, ever?”
Fox stops his snuffling, listening to Desert Cat intently before side-eying him. Eyes meet, both their bellies to the full moon.
Fox says, “I admire your honesty. So accept this: I will use my cunning honestly. Fear only my cunning if you are dishonest. I can make that promise.”
Desert Cat rolls off his back, approaching, eye contact never wavering. “Promise it.”
Fox remains on his belly, but doesn’t blink once at the eye contact.
“I promise.
~~~
Jesse lights a cigarillo. Blood has caked and scabbed by this point, his lips cracking under the stretch, his arm achey and painful t flex where the scab dried.
His lead might’ve been a plant. Might’ve been one of Reaper’s plants, an unofficial invite for Jesse to wipe out one of Reaper’s problems.
Jesse lifts the cigarillo to his lips, and recounts the crimes in the area that were related to the dead omnic’s particular ring.
Jesse can’t bring himself to care.
The bourbon in his flask helps.
All just another day in the life of the Bounty Hunter, Jesse McCree.
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Descending Into Power Chapter Three: Revealed
CW: Prisoners being trafficked, manipulation, fire, bees, mild strangling, stereotypes, discrimination of a minority, self-depreciation
“Time to get up.”
My eyes shot open when I heard Dowrin’s voice and sighed. My hope the day before had been a dream shattered. I touched the cloth on my face, mentally grumbling when I couldn’t take it off. I sat up and narrowed glared at the Elf.
“You seem upset. Be glad they sold you to me. I get the best customers from the surrounding territories. Well, at least the ones willing to pay enough.” Dowrin motioned for me to leave my cell.
I sat up and stared at them with defiance burning in my gaze.
Dowrin shook their head with a sigh. “This will be easier for everyone if you play along, child. Get up and come with me.”
I crossed my arms and stared at them with greater intensity. Dowrin was crazy if they thought I was going to play along.
The shopkeeper rolled their eyes and stormed into the cell. “Stand up or I will make you stand up.” Swirling white lines twisted from their hands to their shoulders.
They are much stronger. You don’t stand a chance. Just give up.
I clenched my fists, my eyes lighting up like glow bees. A smoldering patch appeared at the center of the cloth on my face, flames burning away the fabric. “No.” I held my hand up, calling on the heat from my Spark.
Nothing happened. My Spark went cold and my face paled.
They laughed at my efforts. “How unfortunate for you. You should talk to someone about that faulty Spark.” Dowrin closed their hand, an invisible version wrapping around my neck. They lifted me from the cot and forced me out of the room while I kicked at the air between us. “You’re quite petulant, aren’t you? Is this how all your people’s children behave?”
I glared at them and bared my teeth. “I’m not...a child.” It was near impossible to speak with the invisible hand squeezing me so hard.
Dowrin shook their head. “That is of little importance. No one will believe you’re an adult. If it’s any consolation, kids get treated better. If you keep your mouth shut, perhaps you’ll have a new home before the end of the day.”
Dowrin brought me to an area with large communal cages with a dozen people in each. They all looked so defeated, resigned to their eventual fate. I’d never seen so many broken individuals at the same time.
Dowrin unlocked a cage with a few children within it and tossed me in with them, my back hitting the bars at the far side. The Elf laughed at my attempts to breathe as the white marks faded from their skin. “Welcome to your temporary home. I’ll give you the same deal as everyone else. Behave and you get to go sleep in your holding cell. Misbehave and get left out here all night.” They waved with their fingers before making their way to the front area of the shop again.
“You okay?” A Pantrus girl knelt down in front of me and stared at me with her unblinking yellow eyes.
I pushed myself up with a grimace. “I’ll be okay. This is nothing compared to some injuries I’ve had.” I leaned against the bars and stared at the roof of our enclosure.
She pawed my knee, her tiny razor claws poking me through my pants. “I’m Kira. What’s your name?”
“Leave the newbie alone, Kira. I told you not to get attached to anyone.” A young Ursan boy stood at the front bars and glared over his shoulder. Though he was trying to act tough, I heard the anxiety in his tone.
Kira put her paws in her lap and her whiskers drooped. “I just wanna be nice, Scyka. Nothing wrong with that.”
“It’s okay, Scyka.” I looked down at Kira with as friendly a smile as I could muster. “Nice to meet you, Kira. My name is Kindred. How long have you been here?”
Scyka turned around and crossed his arms. “We’ve been here for almost eight plethora-cycles.”
My eyes widened. “That’s half an ultra-cycle. Is that a normal amount of time to be on the market?” I found it uncomfortable to talk about people like goods waiting for purchase.
Kira shook her head with a small frown, her ears laying back. “No. We’re just a tough sell. Most Owners don’t purchase over one person at a time. It’s also rare that anyone wants both a Pantrus and an Ursan. Mx. Dowrin keeps threatening to sell us separately, but everytime he puts us in different cages, I cry and I guess nobody wishes to buy a crying cat girl.”
Scyka plopped down on the ground next to Kira. “Doesn’t help that I throw a fit until you’re brought back.” He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and she leaned on him. “We came here together, we’ll leave here together.”
Despite our rather dire predicament, I couldn’t help smiling at their affectionate exchange. “Gonna guess you two have been together for a long while?”
Scyka got an embarrassed look. “We’ve been owned by the same households if that’s what you’re asking.” He rubbed the back of his neck but managed a smile when Kira nuzzled his side.
I raised an eyebrow. “It was. What else would I be asking?”
Scyka shrugged with an aggravated grumble. “Nothing. Um, so, where are you from?” His abrupt change of topic was confusing, but I dropped my curious look, which made him relax.
I sighed, rather sick of explaining my situation. “The desert beyond the walls. I came here seeking someone to teach me how to use my Magic or how to get rid of it. I’m hoping for the latter.” Both of them stared at me like I’d grown another head. “What?”
Scyka was the first to recover from their apparent shock. “You want to get rid of your Magic? That’s insane. Why would you want that?”
I shrugged and stared at the ceiling again. “Because it is nothing but trouble for me. It’s made me an Outcast.”
Scyka narrowed his small eyes and studied me before they went wide again. “You’re a Scorpid...with Magic?” He got a suspicious look and held Kira tighter against him.
She looked up at her friend and then at me. “What’s a Scorpid? Why do you feel upset, Scyka?”
I rolled my eyes, pulling my knees to my chest and crossing my arms. “We’re the communities who live on the outskirts of society. Most don’t have a Spark at all. I’m one of the cursed freaks among us.” I pointed to the markings on my face. “All of my people have marks like this, though everyone has a unique pattern determined by what we do in our lives.”
Scyka bared his fangs at me. “You mean the marks that show your Corruption?”
I lowered my glowing green eyes to meet his. “Do not say that again. These are not lines of Corruption and I will fight you if you utter those words once more. Understood?”
The anger in his glare became fear. “U-understood.”
My eyes faded as I got a handle on my rage again. “Thank you. I’m sorry I scared you, but that lie is one reason we are forbidden to live among the rest of society. We aren’t monsters, just people trying to survive against the odds.”
Kira frowned up at him. “Why are you scared? Kindred doesn’t seem that different from us. Just less furry.”
He ran a hand through the fur on his head. “There are a lot of scary stories about Scorpids and why they shouldn't have Sparks. They did a great deal of bad things generations ago.”
She scrunched up her face, and I watched the gears turn in her head. “But…that was the past. People change, Scyka. How could an entire heritage be evil?”
I smiled at the girl and my hope for a better future without discrimination grew a fraction. Scyka’s lack of an answer bolstered that feeling further. Was society at last letting go of the blind hate? I didn’t let my optimism grow further, unwilling to have that spark of joy snuffed out.
Everyone’s attention turned to the door as Dowrin walked in with a bowl full of small packages. “Food time. Remember, if you make trouble for my customers, I won’t give your enclosures the correct amount to feed all of you tonight.” They tossed a package for each prisoner in a cell to have one. They stopped when they reached my cage and smiled at us. “That goes double for you kids. If any of you cause trouble, you will only have enough for half of you to eat.” They stared at me while they spoke and gave me a vindictive grin before tossing our kits on the floor.
Kira was the first to her feet and picked up each of the parcels, handing them out to the other kids before returning with our three bags of rations. “We get little, but it isn’t just hard bread like other merchants hand out.”
I took the satchel of food and untied it to investigate what it held. An orange, a container filled with a clear liquid, dried meat, and a piece of hard bread. I lifted the bread out and scrunched my face. “I thought you said we didn’t get hard bread.”
She shook her head, slicing her orange open with her claws. “I said we don’t just get hard bread. No one wants to waste fresh baked goods on us.”
I shook my head and munched on the bread, taking the bottle out. “What’s in this?” They both gave me puzzled looks.
“Water?” Scyka said the word with hesitation. “Have you never had water?”
I opened the bottle and splashed some liquid in my palm. “If this is water, no, I have never had it before.” I sniffed it to check for toxins and found none, sipping the water from my hand. “It’s quite bland.”
Kira tilted her head with a fascinated expression. “What do you drink, then? Everything needs to drink.”
I turned to reach into my bag before remembering Dowrin had taken it from me. “Kabettle milk. My people hunt kabettles for their resources, though some are raising their own herds.” They both stared at me in horror. “What’s wrong now?”
Scyka looked like he might be ill. “You drink the stuff that comes out of those things? That doesn’t sound good at all.”
I took a sip from my bottle and shrugged. “It’s more flavorful than your water and holds most of the kabettle’s nutrients. Eating the meat is okay, but you have to catch a big one if you’re trying to have a meal of it, much less feeding an entire camp.”
Kira stuck her tongue out and made a disgusted face. “I don’t think I want to try kabettle meat or milk. No offense, Kindred, but it sounds weird.”
I laughed and took my orange out. “I guess it could be if it wasn’t what you’re raised having. If you get the chance, think about trying it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it.” I scratched at the top of the thick-skinned fruit, but my gloves made it difficult to pierce the surface.
She held up her paw. “Do you need any help with your orange skin?”
“Why not just take the gloves off?” Scyka studied me with suspicion in his black eyes, and my nervous shifting didn’t make it better.
I handed my orange to Kira. “My hands are sensitive and taking the gloves off could cause me to get injured.”
She made quick work of my orange and handed me the slices. “Why are they so sensitive?”
I was silent while I thought up an excuse. “It’s a, um, birth defect. I haven’t met a Healer that can help me, so I just wear the gloves.” Kira accepted my answer and returned to her food.
“Must be hard to live in the desert with such a defect. If you let me see them, I might tell you what kind of Healer will help best.” Scyka wasn’t so easily fooled and our eyes locked.
We broke the stare off when Dowrin entered with a few customers, chatting the people up while showing them the available stock. Scyka shot me a last glare before moving in front of Kira, who made herself as small as possible, hiding her face with her paws.
I stood up as the group got closer to our cage, leaning on the bars. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do, but these kids weren’t being sold on my watch.
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