Chapter 12
P.S. I really didn't want to write this chapter so I'm really sorry if it sucks donkey farts.
"A writer must write. Even when they don't want to."
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I clutched the edge of the sink, hunching over as I drew a shaky breath.
"You can do this. Don't just wear the mask—use it." I ran my hand under the tap and splashed water across my face.
"You've worn masks ever since you could remember." The water kept running as I voiced my stream of conscious. "You're a villain. You know how to fool people. You can pull off the best trick of all."
"And no one will ever know."
I slicked my pink hair back, a shimmery fog shielding my eyes behind the mask. Fear should not be seen.
My long, silk night gown swayed across the bathroom tiles, like a white waterfall that pooled around my feet.
Rrriiiiiiiippp!
The cool air hit my bare legs as the night gown only brushed to my mid-thigh.
I tossed the ripped silk in the garbage on the way out, pressing my palm against the open door.
You are Vhalerie. You are a villain behind the mask.
Lance leaned on the door and stumbled forward, the door hitting his head. I stood in front of Archer, eyes rising to meet his. "Let's go," I ordered.
He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the ripped night gown. "What—"
"I didn't like the length," I stated.
Lance stepped beside him and murmured, "Now isn't the time. We're going to be late for class."
Archer grumbled under his breath and reached for my hand, but I smoothly pushed it away. "I can walk by myself."
"Don't be such a brat," he grumbled and reached for my wrist again.
I shoved him off.
CRAAASH!
Bricks spilled behind us. Archer instantly slammed my body forward, my head cracking against the wall.
Troops flooded through the smoke, eyes hidden behind tinted helmets.
"Well, hu-llo heroes," a smug voice sang.
Screams erupted down the halls, heroes scrambling to their feet. A man casually walked through the hole in the wall with a gun rested on his arm and a pair of bloody, swollen knuckles that matched his cut, bottom lip.
A bullet proof vest covered the man's chest, but unlike the troops, his eyes were open, wide...gleaming with excitement.
The blaring of a horn shook the floors, horror registered in everyone's features. The sea of heroes instantly divided; the scared, little shrimps went left and the big, brave idiots marched forward.
"I haven't been here in ages," said the bloody knuckled man. Heroes crashed against his troops, vested men in black and masked teenagers collided into a splattered painting of red. Bodies dented lockers and paper flew up along with binders.
The bloody knuckled man sucked in a deep breath and smiled. "I love the smell of fear in the morning."
Archer yanked on my hand, but I refrained for that split second, capturing the sparkling eyes of the intruder.
He waved his gun at me. "Hello, Vhalerie. Fancy seeing you here." The glint in his eye even sparkled a little brighter.
My cheeks heated and Archer tugged me harder, unware of the quick exchange. "Price!" Archer shouted.
His friend slammed his elbow down on another soldier's neck and turned, chasing after us.
"We can't risk it," he told Price who didn't say anything in response. He didn't talk much, hm?
The back of neck was hot in panic and I stumbled through the halls packed with running heroes. Shoulders shoved me around, the fear thick in the air.
Lance flicked his head towards the opposite direction of the crowd. "C'mon! I know where to go."
We split from the rushing current of heroes and ran down a separate hall.
An explosive went off in one wing and we ducked, the ground shaking under our feet.
Archer shoved me through a door and our feet slapped around the wooden planks. Abandoned gym bleachers lined up the side, the horn outside shaking the banners pinned to the wall.
The fear rolled into anger and I broke my hand away from Archer. "Do you know those heroes back there?!" I shrieked.
Shoes squeaked to a halt, heaving breathes audible. Everyone's gaze snapped to Archer. He advanced a step and held my cheek, his hand warm against my flustered face. "Those people out there aren't heroes."
I pushed his hand off. "What kind of villains are they?"
Lance darted his gaze to the doors.
"They aren't villains either." Archer put his hand out, but that only tightened my arm around my waist. "They're the Civilians."
Shock turned my bones to ice, seizing my heart to a sudden stop. "The Civilians? They can't be real. They died centuries ago."
"They really don't teach you much in Villain Academy," Lance piped in, gaze frantically searching the gym walls. "Can we not dilly dally? I kinda want to leave."
"Oh, they're real alright," Archer told me. "We tried fucking save the Civilians, but they refused all help from anything that was greater than them."
"Fear drives the citizens away," Price said.
"But once they overcome the fear, they will do anything to survive," said Archer. He kept his hand out. "Even if that means killing us."
How did the Citizen know my name then?
I opened my mouth to bring it up, but the gym began to shake.
Lance made it a few steps away before the wall broke in half, cement chunks flying over our heads.
A floor shattering roar bounced into the gym, sending our ears shaking.
With fur grey as the clouds and teeth that dragged across the floor, the beast pounded its fists on the planks.
"Well, well. Look at what we have here." The bloody knuckled Civilian strode alongside the beast and paused. "Wow—way to be cliché as fuck, Trent," he spoke to himself. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before smiling at us. His six foot height looked ridicously short compared to the beast's leg.
"I don't recall making this a game of hide'n go seek, but I do love a good chase," Trent told us. "Boo!" He laughed and lifted the gun up and down on his right palm. His dark purple hair was slicked back—Grease style—and those brown eyes shimmered with a glint of childlike fun.
I hoped he couldn't see the sweat gleaming across my brow—not that he should: He was human. All the civilians were.
"I thought a Citizen was more of a spectator than a player," I coolly said.
"Well, sugar," Trent responded. "When you live on a planet with two types of gods, your lives turn into the battle arena. Fighting turns into surviving. And I plan on living to my 90s."
Troops spread around the gym, trapping the four of us in the middle. "And I'm just sick of fighting," Trent continued. "Like—bringing a machine gun every time I want to hit the laundry mat down the street is exhausting. There could be a hero-gone-rogue hiding around the corner and bam bam, you oughta shoot that muthafucker without dropping a sock or two."
I blinked back, sickened with admiration of his strange...persona.
"Anyway, this war needs to end before it starts," spoke Trent the Civilian. The beast roared behind it, black tongue lashing out in a hiss.
"What war?" I questioned.
Trent laughed and glanced to Archer. "Superman hasn't spilled the beans yet? Oh boy, this is sweeter than chocolate."
I shot a look to Archer. "War? What does he mean?"
"It doesn't matter," he answered and stepped between Trent and I. "It's none of your concern."
Trent raised a brow, his smile still burning a hole into my confidence. "The war you were born for," he said.
"Enough!" Archer snapped.
Price threw himself on a solider, tackling him down to the ground. Lance pulled the emergency lever on the side of the gym wall and smoke poured into the air, red lasers of the gunmen pointed in all directions.
I moved without the beast in my mind, feeling slightly lost and tried to dodge the sound of grunts and bangs.
Suddenly, I was staring into the helmet of a Civilian and let out a small scream. I threw one fist out and the solider caught it, knocking a good kick to my stomach. The pain lit my body on fire and then his elbow struck down on my spine. With no inner beast to soak up the pain, I crumbled to the ground with a yelp.
Trent watched as his men put a boot down on my back, keeping me still.
My mind grasped for strength, grabbing nothing but air. Desperation clawed up my throat and snaked out in a raspy cry, "Archer! I need it back!" I lifted my cheek off the ground. "I know you did something to me!"
The beast's hand smacked against Lance and he flew across the gym, a harsh thump following after his body sagged over the bleachers, one arm twisted in a horrible angle.
"Listen to her!" Price shouted and got smacked down by an incoming fist. He collapsed on his back and quickly snatched the soldier's wrist, staring straight into the dagger. He struggled to fight back, under the pressure. "She can save us!"
"Villains don't save heroes," Archer persisted and rolled away in time to dodge the furry fist of the beast.
Price let out a grunt as the dagger came an inch closer.
"Archer!" I screamed, throat burning in rage.
He snapped his gaze over to me and the beast took the chance to snatch his throat, dangling Archer off from the ground. He sputtered out useless nothings, grasping on the beast's arm.
"Fucking do it or we all die!" I summoned any strength that I had left and twisted, trying to wiggle my way out, but the boot just dug further into my spine.
The solider yanked Lance's limp body up and kicked him, limbs tumbling and rolling down the bleachers.
Archer stared coldly at the beast, purple slipping up his neck and across his cheeks. His brows narrowed, head trembling under his tight grasp.
"Archer," I whispered.
Trent's smile wiped off his face and he removed his gun, advancing forward.
"Vh...Vhalerie," Archer choked out. My neck burned to strain any further as I looked up. "I...I can't bring it back."
"What do you mean you can't?!" I yelped.
Trent stopped in his tracks and lowered his gun a bit. "Did someone make an oopsie daisy?" he said it more of a question than in mockery.
"This is no time for jokes!" Price barely managed through his voice. The dagger shook now as Price's hand wouldn't stop trembling. The blade was winking at him.
"What's wrong with a joke? I love jokes," Trent said. A grin pulled up his lips. "Knock, knock. Who's there? Cash! Cash who? No thanks, I'd rather have a peanut!"
"You're ridiculous," Archer wheezed.
"I like you," I managed to squeak.
Trent gave me a lopsided smile. "I try."
Archer swore, face going a healthy looking red and Trent gave out a low whistle. The beast released Archer's throat, his body hitting the floor at an echoing thunk.
"You lost the beast?" Trent asked, walking towards me. He clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Oh, Archer—baby. What did you do this time?"
"Fuckyou," he rasped, failing to catch his breath.
"Vhalerie—oh sweet dingle berry," Trent sang and glanced down with a grin. "How ya doing down there?"
I didn't think the Civilian's boot could dig any harder into my back and I wheezed out in pain.
"I guess you're kinda used to this aren't ya? Being alone and all?" Trent said. "But now, without your beast and that fat kid by your side—you're practically empty."
I couldn't string any words into a sentence, mind locked on his shimmering eyes. He was just a child. No. An older boy. No. A young man. Dark purple hair. A bloody lip. Hells Bells—everything was blurry.
"Stop talking shit, Trent," growled Archer, knees remaining on the floor with arms barely holding him up.
"Why?" He laughed. "You've been doing it to her this whole time! She should be used to people talking shit to her. All those lies—for goodness sake, if you counted the amount of sandwiches that fat boy ate and the amount of lies you told her—they'd be about the same number."
I glared at Archer, hands clenching into fists. "Is this true?"
"No!" he cried out, clutching his own throat.
"Stop lying to the poor cherry blossom! Plus, wooden noses so wouldn't go with your skin tone," Trent said, wincing at him.
"Why are you lying?!" I screamed to Archer. I dragged my nails across the floor, shoulders trembling under the boot.
"I-I didn't lie!" he exclaimed.
"Cough, cough. Liar," Trent said. "And yes, I am being subtle."
"I told you the truth!" Archer shot.
Trent rolled his eyes. "About what? Being human? Gheez, okay, you didn't lie about one thing."
"You're human?!" Price grunted, the dagger staring down at him
"Yes! I am, okay?!" Archer wobbled to his feet, his hands immediately flying up at the twenty guns pointed on him. "I was never originally a hero."
Trent lowly whistled. "Whoop. There it is."
"You're human?!" My voice projected in a growl, nerves shaking with anger.
"Yes, but—"
"You mean I could've shredded you into pieces days before?!" Scales grew up my arms, darkness clouding my mind.
"Vhalerie—"
"You mean you never did take my beast?" The panel lights of the gym flickered. "And you never did stop my transformation back in the shower room?" The wooden planks cracked.
"It was all in your head, Vhalerie," Trent explained. "Your mind is more powerful than you think. It can push the beast away, it can bring it back. Archer made you want to think that he had power over you." He glanced at the hero—no, human, standing before us. "He tried to trick you."
A sheer gloss of black covered my eyes, it filling my soul with the same colour. "You lied to all of us," I darkly whispered.
"It was for a good reason," Archer interjected.
"You're not even worthy enough to call yourself a villain or a hero." My spine started moving and the man immediately removed his foot off my back. Nails sharpened into claws that scraped against the floor as I stood. My bones snapped and skin tightened, moulding into the new form that my body wished to take. "You're just a fake man behind a mask," I spoke.
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A/N:
My gif to Archer:
Anyway, what do you think?
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Love you lots and I'll update again before Christmas :)
P.S.
Sorry for taking so long----I've been preparing the first chapter of my new nanowrimo story :) "Boys of the Dark"
Here's a sneak (unedited) peek:
They say your first date is the most significant part of a relationship. Satan likes to think so too. This was how her first date with Ryland went:
"So if I cut off this woman's head—you'll make out with me?" he asked.
"Yes, you sonuvabitch! Just do it!"
"Don't ruin Nike for me."
"Ryland!"
He winced and stared down at the shrieking woman, hands tied to the table, Russian tongue lashing out in anger—"Look at her skin complexion though! Red isn't really her colour," he exclaimed.
Satan clutched the other end of the table. "If you don't do this, I'm not going to second base with you tonight."
His eyes widened. "What?! Seriously?! Dinner and a movie only gets me to first base?"
"What? You were planning to hit all the bases—"
"And slide right into home, baby," he said more to himself with a laugh.
She deadpanned.
He cleared his throat and rolled up his sleeves. "Ahem. Okay. Here we go. Like cutt'in a carrot, Ryland. Like cutt'in a cucumber. That has a face. And eyes. And a nose. Teeth too." He let out a frustrated sigh. "Goddammit—I won't ever look at anything cucumber shaped the same way again."
She looked down at his pants. "You're seriously not helping yourself here."
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Still playing around with the story, but meh, if you like what you're seeing---feel free to add the story to your reading list--the intro of it is already posted. Again, it's called "Boys of the Dark" I'm trying a dark comedy teen fiction (more so teen fic than action) but who knoooows?
Love you lots and Merry (early) Christmas!
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xx
twister