"Stop" He said, his breath ragged "please, Elizabeth. What...happened?....what happened to you , my flower child?" He groaned in pain, clutching his stomach , or whatever remains of it anyway. Blood pools under him , on his clothes and stains his hands.
The sword spins in her hands , expertly "You should've never taught me how to work a blade if you didn't want me to use it , father"
"I wanted to protect you" He cries
"Oh well -" The blade shines in the limited lighting of the room , scarlet dripping from its edges "Look where it got us"
"I'm-" he gasps hoarsely and begins again "I'm sorry , flower girl"
She turns away , walking around his office as he leaned into a corner on the brink of slow death "Speaking of flowers. Ace Lavitsky..how did you find him?"
"I know how to keep an eye on my daughter , Elizabeth"
She closes her eyes , taking a deep breath as to not lash out , "So you willingly let me take drugs? When i was a teenager?"
"i-"
Her gaze narrows down to the coward excuse of a father " you partnered up with that-monster , to get to me? And why Victoria?"
"That Smith women?" He coughs
Elizabeth nods
"She was a menace" he says "She must go"
Elizabeth tilts her head to the left and smiles a few unwanted tears staining her eyes "No , you do"
Her father smiles back , chuckling though his pain "We used to play dollhouse right here , you remember ? I wish I could have her back..."
"She died when you killed her child and when she found out her husband was a fraud and tired to murder her , she died when you knowingly introduced drugs in her system" she calmly replies , chin raised high and fire in her eyes. " Considering the terrible , gut wrenching things you have done. Death would be too sweet a fate for you , father"
"Elizabe-"
"All that blood , father. So much red , All those innocent women , all those children who died before even getting a chance to live again , my child included. Did it feel good , father? Knowing you have blood of all those unlived lives on your hands?" she pauses as her voice cracks "Does guilt never catch up to you?"
"No guilt in trying to protect the ones you love"
Elizabeth walks over to her father , crouching down to his level -firm in her statement "Ace Lavitsky wasn't going to protect me or love at that. "
"We had a deal" He leans forward , "He was going to get you back to me , in turn i promised him your hand"
She looks at him in absolute disbelief "He is a murderer ! Fu*k , he is a paedophile. Children , father ! he has sexually assaulted children-no younger than seven. That's not even the worst part , they were assaulted pre and post mortem! Does that not deteriorate you? Such cruelty on such small lives."
"The world is sick , my flower child. It's the truth"
"No , the world is not. Even after all I've been through. I can tell you with the force of gods above , the world is not sick" She shakes her head "The people are. People like you"
Her body was littered with scars , very discernible from the half torn shirt she was wearing , results of the brawl with her father'sbodyguards. Guns strapped to her thigh holster was equally threatening .
And once when those blonde locks were intervened with daises . And the lips that upheld the smile of innocence was now distorted in a emotionless straight line and the strands of her free hair now blood tainted.
It was beautiful , the cesspool of dripping menace from her proclaiming charisma. How very 'good girl gone bad'.
Her living cadaver with a tapestry of near-misses and fights.
"I loved you , father. I really did , I used to see a warrior in you , but you are nothing but a pathetic old man. I feel ashamed to call myself your daughter "
"You will always be a Cushing , Elizabeth. Don't forget where you came from , this is our empire"
"mine" Her hand grips the handle of the sword , her arms lift for the one last strike at the falling apart cadaver of her parent "Rest in peace , father for the Cushing Mafia is under new management"
Her face is tear stained , but her lips in a thin line indifferent to the mess she had made. The only thing heard in the room, was that of flesh tearing and long , brutal cry of agony.
Flower girl , that's what they called her. A perfect picture of innocence. The epitome of purity. But every flower wilts and every petal darkens...call it perhaps a force of nature for situations.
An angel falls into the darkness because she trusted the light to many times , after all hell hath no fury like an angel without her halo.
~*~*~
The air is cold ; it catches his air, ruffles it lightly , but he doesn't flinch. He is used to the chill , the building stands like a great wreckage, proud in its destruction. It's walls charred and windows burnt , hollowed out like the empty eye sockets of an aging face. He tilts his head to one side.
This is the address. There are no cars nearby. It cannot be police intervention , he would've heard something , been given a warning , had a message passed on. He doesn't understand-he took all the precautions ensured he had information on the individual he was encountering . He has a name , an age , a criminal background. Either this is some trick , or a warped misunderstanding. He doesn't like the quiet. Cautiously , he turns around prepared to make his exit.
Three red pin pricks settle on his chest.
Two men step into the driveway , the third remains out of sight. They are tall-taller than him-and heavy with muscle , their jaws squared and hair brushed back. They hold their guns like he holds his knife .
Casual familiarity.
He is ordered to put his hands up.
He obliges , more out of curiosity than fear. This is not a threat on his life. If the unnamed perpetrator wanted him dead , he's have been shot thirty seconds ago. His arms are wrenched behind his back: he doesn't struggle , although he's confident he could break free. He has his own weapon concealed , inside his blazer-they just don't know it.
He is dragged unceremoniously though the doors , into the building , up a broken staircase. Notes of the wood burnt hang suspended in the air and he inhales them as he is manhandled through the corridor .
They pass rows of empty picture frames and peeling wallpaper-there is something beautiful in the decay ; a vintage , old age appeal. His mind begins to wander. She'd look ethereal standing here , against the deteriorating walls. If she wore white-not white , pale grey , pale grey lace-and her skin was coated in a fine film of dust , she would make this building her own. The walls would part around her . He can see if when he blinks ; branded behind his eyelids.
He is pushed through another set of doors.
The room is resolutely empty , bar the two chairs in the middle of the space ; they stand facing each other , antique furniture , positioned with the care of a perfectionist. He is forcibly lowered into one. The crosshairs stay strained on his chest.
He smiles , charmed by the theatricals of it all. It is extremely polished.
Footsteps sound in the corridor behind him.
The doors are opened again ; he hears someone step into the room and stop , presumably examining the back of his head. He doesn't turn around , he decided he will entertain this trickster.
The footsteps pick up again , quiet on the damn wood , and come to a halt right behind his chair. The voice is soft at his ear ; lilting and thick with a British accent.
"Are you sitting comfortably , Mr. Lavitsky?"
His smile falters , as his hands feel for the knife hidden in his blazer.
"Our meeting has been long overdue"
His fingers pause , centimeters away from the ivory hilt of his blade. He calculates rapidly ; he can't stab this man from where he stands , not without receiving a heedful of lead, he can't stand up and leave , her may have grazed his heart-but it was hers after all , and she could do whatever she wants with it. He wants to get back to her so he cannot give his opponent the advantage to kill him. And so it is with slow reluctance , he withdraws his hand back.
He sits back , and folds his arms across his chest. He selects his smile.
The voice tuts disapprovingly.
"You've got ten of the world's deadliest assassins pointing their rifles at your chest. I wouldn't look quite so smug. Mr. Lavitsky"
"Ah , finally we meet. I was hoping when would I come across my equal , this is a pleasant surprise , Mr. Zavier"