Phase 43

Epilogue - Finn

"Well, does the litt'l fire angel want a safe place to stay fer the night? Yer quite the young litt'l thing - can't have you fending for y'erself out'ere," The man slurred. I flared my nostrils, instantly hating this man in front of me. I straightened my back, lifting my chin up and staring at him down my nose.

"No thanks, I think I can handle myself out there," I said sternly. The man's chubby face squished together. Spit dribbled down his face. I tried not to inspect his appearance too closely, but I noted the small burns on his forehead. Probably 7-8 weeks in, if my guess was correct.

"Wrong choice sweethe'rt," He growled. I turned to step away from him, but his hand grabbed my neck. I was thrown to the ground, and his body followed, attempting to pin my underneath him. Rage boiled deep within me. I kicked my legs out, landing a solid heel to his fat face. I skidded back with the sheer force of it, but I was able to roll over my shoulder and land in quite the superhero pose if I do say so myself.

"C'mere sweethe'rt. You need to be taught a lesson," The man hissed, holding his bleeding nose. I let go of my morality, and grabbed the nearest weapon. A large piece of shattered glass, with metal framing around the left edge. I grinned, a look that I knew would not suit me.

The man launched himself at me again, but this time there were spectators in need of a show. So, I put on one. Remembering what Scott and Darren had showed me, I used my speed and strength as a star soccer player against him. I was able to slid across the sticky, blood splattered floor and underneath his swing, slicing with the glass as I did. Fresh blood flew, splashing onto my face. I shut my mouth against it, but didn't hesitate to slid to my feet and place a solid kick to the back of the man's head. He dropped to the ground, holding both his head and the 12 inch long gash I had just put through his soft stomach. The normally loud and chaotic room quieted.

"Please - please don't kill me," the man wheezed. I held the piece of glass in my hands, watching the streams of red drip off it. I watched with a bored look as the man tried to crawl towards the bar - towards another group of shady looking phasers who were most likely part of his crew. Great, just made enemies.

"Kill him. Finish it," a voice called. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in a young man staring at me. His eyes were narrowed in competition. I swung the glass over my shoulder, resting the dull edge of metal on my collar bone.

Finn, you're not a monster.

Elliot's adorably high pitched voice spoke in my mind. I tried to shut it out.

"Now why should I do that?" I asked, my voice loud and clear despite the way my heart was racing. The boy's sea green eyes glinted.

"You too scared to take a life?" he taunted. I let the corner of my mouth tilt up.

"Give me one solid reason," I called back. The other phasers crowded around us, watching the tension between us. I kept my eyes narrowed.

"Cause killin's fun," the boy said, a challenge in his words. So you think I'm a weak little girl. You think you can scare me. I let my sly grin spread into a nefarious smile.

"Good enough for me," I said with a shrug, then in one fluid motion I spun and drove the glass straight into the man's heart. Blood erupted, showering me. I was surprised to feel a sick sense of glee spreading through me. Really proved what the virus could do.

The Compound erupted into cheers, aws, and numerous "holy shits". I blew a strand of blood soaked hair out of my face, then turned back to the boy. He was grinning.

"Not bad princesa, how long ago did you lose your sanity?" the boy teased, walking up to me. I was hesitant at first, considering that the first person I had spoken too had tried to kill me, but this boy seemed too calm and calculated to just break into a murder spree. I could be completely wrong, but I was going to play this out.

"Came out of the wound like this, muchacho," I shot back, but there was only dry humor in my words. Even I was startled at the lack of emotion inside me.

This was hell incarnate, and I had just become a demon.

The boy grinned. I took a moment to study him. He seemed to be in his early twenties, if not late teens. His blond hair was cut short, practically buzzed. He had bright sea green eyes that burned brighter than the sunlight cascading through the windows. I stood about a half a head shorter than him.

"Atlas Greene. Nice to meet you," he stuck out his hand. It was calloused, but clean. I decided I liked him.

"Finn Bridgeman," I said, shaking his hand. I was about to let go, but I decided I needed to establish a few things before forming a bond with his boy. Right before he pulled away, I flicked my wrist up and twisted his arm. Taking a few steps back, I pulled down harshly on his shoulder and pinned him in a sturdy headlock. He struggled in my grip, but I had practiced this one. I was not going to let some cheeky boy think he could control me.

"One rule before we become friends," I said loud enough for the phasers watching to hear. Atlas struggled; he was furious that he was unable to wriggled his way out of my grip.

"And that is?" He spat, pulled against my arms. I plastered a bored look on my face.

"You lay one hand on me, and I will kill you. Slowly, painfully, in the worst ways possible. I don't know how long you've had the virus, but I'm about 7 weeks in and I haven't broken out yet. Don't push me," I declared, right next to his ear. I felt Atlas stiffen. He obviously knew how unpredictable anyone over 7 weeks who hadn't had their first break out was. I was a time bomb waiting to go off.

"Noted, princesa. Now, let me up," He mumbled. I dropped my arms, sending him to the floor. He landed flat on his ass, but I helped him up. I flashed him a smile, which he returned with a roll of his sea green eyes.

This was going to be fun.