I'm not sure if i like this chapter all that much. I will edit it and see if i can make myself like it. i really think its more of a filler chapter.
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My skin crawled as if ants had decided to eat it from inside out. The man seemed to be taking pleasure in this evident realisation. I still didn’t know his name. I never knew their names. I still don’t understand how I could not have recognised this person. I didn’t think that the scar had mutilated his face that bad. When I escaped it was so fast, so quick. I barely even knew what I was doing, my body was been guided by blind relief. I remember the tray though. The silver tray with an array of small knives and needles. When scar-face tried to stop me I went insane, smashed it in his face –knife side up – and then ran for my life. Literally.
They had looked for me, found me? Fear pulled my mind apart and clear thoughts began to scatter and dissolve through my brain. Scar-face spoke again. “I think it’s time we go, don’t you?” He was going to take me back to that place. My muscles slacked under that realisation, my body was held up by nothing but scar face’s hold. The world turned foggy. What the hell. I had only had one drink and it tasted sweet as – oh. All my bravado disappeared. And I became numb as the effect of the drug began. Scar-face dragged me through the crowd, heading for the back doors where he could exit without been seen by any of the fighting rabbles.
I was going back. Alone. Again.
“Hey!” A sharp voice cut through the overwhelming depression. My head rolled slightly to the side. Marco was standing in front of us looking pissed as hell. “Hands off.”
Poor Marco. Trying to be so brave. I watched my weedy, drunken brother who was now sober stand defiantly in front of scar-face. If Marco went up against this man he would die, for sure.
“Nice try, kid. Now get out of my way.” Scar-face spat out, menacingly leering over Marco whose face was still red from the alcohol. Scar-face moved closer to my brother in an attempt to appear more threatening than he already was.
Marco fought great. He rabbled with the other members back when I knew him, he could throw a punch faster and stronger than most of the other kids his age. I thought he’d lost that ability, drowned all his training and talent away in spirits. Apparently not.
His fist shot out faster than a missile and hit just as hard on Scarface’s nose. Blood began to squirt out of the broken nose and scar-face bellowed in pain. Both hands covered his nose, trying to stop the torrent bleeding. My skin felt raw against the warm air as his hold vanished. I was awake enough from the fog to kick my legs out, knocking him over and sending him timbering to the floor.
I stared dumbly at the struggling form but didn’t get to see him crawl up as another hand, a warm one, grabbed mine and pulled me away. “Marco?” I slurred. He was getting fuzzy but the concerned look was easy to pick off his face. When we reached the back door he practically shoved me out and I landed harshly on the cold stone ground.
“What the hell was that? Why didn’t you fight back!” He yelled. Marco picked me up off the floor and I slumped on him.” Damn, is this why you don’t drink? One shot and you’re the new stripper in town.” I giggled at that statement. A stinging slap slammed into my cheek and I reeled back, mind suddenly clear.
The world became a little clearer and I noticed how freezing cold the wind was. This only succeeded in bring more of my senses back. I felt the bruises forming on my skin from the hand marks and the smarting sensation in my cheek. I stumbled onto a wall and leaned back for support. Marco was pacing in front of me agitated, his mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear any words. I think the drug was wearing off. Werewolf blood was hotter than others and pills didn’t last long. We probably needed to take three to everyone a normal human would have to swallow.
My hands were shaking from fear. They had found me. They had found me. The words screamed through my mind. Scar-face’s words came back into view. I didn’t even come here looking for the runway . The relief lit on like a light bulb.My pulse began to race as the realisation from the situation hit me. Scar-face wasn’t looking for me. They thought I was dead, killed by the ‘medicine’. Only he knows I’m alive. If he doesn’t make it back, no-one would think any of it. Would they? And then I would be dead to them again. A long-gone experiment. These thoughts passed through me in minute seconds before realising something else.
My calculating mind tested several logical situations but only one made sense. Only one was actually possible. I had to take him out. Keeping him alive was the least smart choice to make so I didn’t even consider that. Kidnapping was out of the question. I was too busy here with the pack and had no-where good enough to hide him. Plus, they would come looking for the missing comrade. OF course, that would happen anyway if I killed him, but the body could be dumped elsewhere.
These were black thoughts. Killing someone was not a simple thing to do. The first time I did it was like i killed something in me too. I didn’t want to feel remorse or regret for blood, sometimes I don’t know if loosing that was a good thing. At first I didn’t want my hate to morph my path into a darker road. I wanted to use that pain and that anger to become better, fight against the things that created that lesser part of me. Both choices were so difficult to make. I craved blood but I needed light, so my choice was to choose neither. I would take what I could give back, if not I would become just as bad as the people who caused it. Only those thoughts kept me from losing the definition between right and wrong.
I shook my head to rid it of the last of the fog. “Marco.” I said much more clearly than before. Marco continued to pace and talk as if I hadn’t said anything, too caught up in his confusion. I grew irritated.
“Marco!” My brother stopped mid-sentence and watched me suspiciously.
I didn’t get time to tell him what was going to happen as the bleeding scar-face smashed through the door. The man’s eyes practically steamed red. And they focus on Marco. He lumbered forward and my decision became final. We could face him. The decision was final. But I would need something much sharper than a hit. This man’s skin was tough and able to rapidly heal; it would take a shinier attack to end him.
I stepped behind Marco and whispered quietly. “Distract him.” My brother didn’t even act as if he heard but his voice rose as he began to yell out to scar-face. The man was now a bull, attracted to the most sound. I felt a surge of gratefulness to my brother.
When scar-face lunged for Marco I took the chance and sprinted into the bar door, hoping that the man was so blinded by his anger that he wouldn’t notice me been gone. My eyes sweeped the place, the fighting was still going on but it looked like most of the rowdiness was gone. My sight landed on the dank door labelled EMPLOYEE’S ENTRANCE.Yes. The employees were too busy trying to burn out the chaos that they didn’t see my slim form slink through the door into the small kitchen area.
It was your basic kitchen, barely reaching thee health and safety measures, but reaching it all the same. I hurriedly banged through some drawers. Forks, no. Plates, no. Tomato cans, no. Wait, tomato cans? I didn’t bother to contemplate the reasoning of this kitchen layout as my eyes latched onto a silver reflection. It was a butcher knife, thick and sharp, just perfect for cutting meat.
Why use a kitchen knife instead of my abundance i keep on hand. Honestly, I had left them at the house, even Rachel was resting in the knapsack of my bike. I outweighed the itme between getting Rachel or one of the cruder cutters and decided that the kitchen was the best place.
My hands trailed over the silver edges until I found one sharp enough to work for me and grabbed it off the hanging rack before dashing back to the club. Sweeping past the babble off people I slipped through the back door and came to an interesting sight.
Scar-face had Marco in a choking hold and my brothers eyes looked ready to pop. I was about to step in when Marco managed to squeeze out of the hold and tumble onto the ground, rolling until he was about 10 feet away. I raised my eye brows in admiration, Marco was quicker than I had expected. Honestly I had figured that Marco would already be out by now. I didn’t jump in to take over as in a split-second decision I had decided to examine Marco’s skill further. Although the skinny-boy seemed drained of most of his endurance.
“Marco!” I shouted and both eyes swivelled to me. I held up the knife and threw it to Marco. “Catch.”
To my amazement he actually caught the weapon, blade first unfortunately, but quickly flipped it so the hilt was in his grip. Marco stared wide-eyed at the blade as if it was about to explode. Scar-face lunged once again at my brother and Marco quickly ducked out of the way and again and again as Scar-face lunged repeatedly. I frowned slightly. That man needed to work on his offence. He had multiple moments of a perfect hit but he seemingly avoided all of them.
When Scar-face slammed into the stupidly dodging Marco the knife went spinning onto the gravelly ground. Marco had scar-face in the perfect position; it confused me why he hadn’t finished the man off. I decided it was time to join in on the fight. I launched into the air, adjusting my shoulder correctly and slammed into scar-face knocking him into the back wall. My hand grasped onto Marco’s as I roughly pulled him up then faced scar-face.
Shit.” I whispered. If he did morph it would be in the middle of a very populated town and by the looks of it scar-face was not one to be able to hold control over the fur. Scar-face’s gaze turned towards me, hearing the swear-word, and grinned. I could hear the crack of his bones deforming and elongating. He was leaning on the wall and I could feel the heat coming from his skin. He was going to change. I should have attacked him then, ended it fast and clean but a shape had distracted me. Up on the corner of the roof I thought I saw a shadow of a figure. Was someone watching?
I didn’t see his attack but in mid-morph he lunged at me. Luckily my reflexes were fast, the shadow completely forgotten I pivoted on my foot and swung my leg through the air on a powerful side-kick that cracked into his face and sent him flying. He tumbled hard onto the ground. Before he could get up i ran over and slammed my foot onto his neck. The evil eyes stared into mine. My kick had knocked out his morph. Lucky.
“Marco. The knife.” I ordered, turning to my lump of a brother. He scrambled to get it. Scar-face began to struggle desperately against my weight and I shifted so my elbow was at his neck and my knee on his chest.
Marco skidded on his knees, facing scar-face’s face. Marco raised the knife and hesitated. The man’s struggles were stronger and I was having difficulty keeping my weight down.
“Dammit Marco, plunge the bloody knife!” I snapped. Marco looked at me wide-eyed.
Did he not know where to stick it? I wonder if he had ever killed someone.
This thought stopped me before I could open my mouth and snap at him again. Judging by Marco’s wide-eyes I guess he never had. I stared blankly at him for a second before shifting my weight.
“Put your knee here.” I ordered him, as he moved to take over my position I snatched the knife out of his grasp. I adjusted my stance and refused to look into either of their daggery, sharp eyes.
“Look away Marco.” I whispered quietly. I didn’t hear him move but felt the air of stubbornness he was producing. “Look. Away.” I spoke forcefully. Out of my peripheral vision I saw Marco’s head turn to face the wall. Keeping no hesitations and not waiting any longer I used my force to bring the knife down. and that was it. I stared straight into scar-face’s eyes, not the satisfaction but the honour. Not looking into their eyes was a great sign of cowards, not giving the dead their last respect. No matter who the dead are.. The body grew limp. Both Marco and I’s hold relaxed and Marco ran to the dumpsters before coughing up the contents of his stomach behind the wall. I wasn’t sure if that was due to the dead werewolf or the alcohol. Maybe both.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, slowly standing up. Marco came stumbling back his eyes wild.
“What the hell! What. What was that! Who was that! Oh man. He’s dead. There is a dead guy on the floor.” I could tell Marco wasn’t taking it that well.
“Shut up will you. Do you want the whole world to hear about it?” I could also tell I was kinda sick of it. All I felt like doing was going somewhere quiet and crashing, if my own mind allowed me that.
“How can you act so calm about this?” He yelled and I turned to look at him questionably.
“You really hit your head hard didn’t you?” I asked. Where did he think my reputation came from, fairyland?
Marco glowered. “I mean.” He emphasised. “That you’re not even freaking out, in the slightest. It’s like your a robot about this!” It wasn’t the worst insult I had been called.
I gave out a small chuckle and turned my head back to the body. “I’ve seen enough of this stuff to not let it phase me.”
“You’re eighteen! You haven’t had your 19th birthday yet. How could you have seen enough of this stuff in the past three years!” Marco was getting agitated, he wanted a response from me. He wanted an emotion even. Like I was going to give him that.
“It’s not my first sight of violence. I’ve grown up with it. Closest thing I had to love for a long time” I said, knowingly directly how it would hit him. I didn’t look at my brother but instead examined scar-face, leaning in closer than I wanted to check if he really was dead. No pulse, no breath. Clean hit.
Marco was silent. No comeback for that one? I thought.
“No one should grow up like that.” He whispered.
I shrugged as if it meant nothing. “It’s not like I had a choice. I had a family once. They’re gone. I had a normal life. That’s gone too. All because of violence. That black stuff has been leaking into me since I was a little kid.
I turned to him again, eyebrows raised. His shoulder looked heavy under an invisible weight as he stared at the ground. I coughed slightly and his head snapped up. “You gonna help me with this or what?” I asked and he watched me.
Marco cleared his throat. “Help you with what?”
I stared at him astounded. “Moving the body.” I stated slowly, drawing out the words. “We can’t leave all this evidence here.” I pulled the knife out, ignoring the sickening squish at it pulled free of the skin and wiped it on his jacket. I slipped the knife into my boot.
His eyes strayed to scar-face and the dagger. “Where?” He asked his voice growing quiet.
I smirked. And grabbed on of scar-face’s arms, lugging half his body onto my weight. “I have a co-worker couple hours out of here, he’s the best at making things disappear.”
“Disappear?” Marco said. I ignored the comment and twitched my head, inclining for him to grab scar-face’s other side. He grudgingly followed the order and pulled scar-face’s arm over his shoulder.
“Who is this guy?” He grunted out. I contemplated whether to tell him or not about whom scar-face was but quickly decided against it. Too much trouble, too many questions to follow it. Besides, the less everyone knows the better it is.
“Doesn’t matter.” I said. I began lugging the body to the edge of the alleyway. Problem with the body was I couldn’t fit him on my motorbike and definitely couldn’t catch a taxi. That was just plain stupid.
Marco must have seen my thinking because he resolved the answer by saying. “We can use my truck, it’s parked down the block.” I nodded gratefully and let him lead the way. Scar-face weighed a ton and his feet dragged on the ground as we turned a corner. The streets were empty for now but the ring of the police cars would draw everyone out soon enough. We picked up the pace and jogged in silence until what I assumed was Marco’s truck came into view.
The sirens were louder and closer now and we rushed to drop the body in the covered back of the truck. I allowed myself to relax a little as scar-face disappeared from view under the black material. I leaned exhausted onto the side of my favourite green colour truck. My brother has good taste in cars and colours. Not that that matters in the least.
Marco was staring transfixed at the back of his truck as if scar-face would leap out and attack him at any second. This was enough to bring out a small sarcastic chuckle. Then I was all business. I held my hand out for the keys expectantly but Marco gave me an incredulous look.
“You are not driving my truck.” He said stubbornly. “I’ll go and you stay.”
I scoffed at his attempts of been heroic. “You don’t even know who the contact is”
Marco shrugged and edged closer to the car door. “Tell me.”
I sighed. “He won’t like a new face. I can’t guarantee it’s going to end well.”
Marco hesitated for a second before wrenching the sleek door open then gestured at the back of his truck. “ Like it ended well for this guy?”
I looked Marco straight in the eyes. The sirens grew louder. “Trust me. He deserved it.”
Marco frowned then slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door with a slam. I walked over and leaned against the unwound window edges. He snatched a notepad and a chewed-up pen the compartment between both seats and I took it disgusted and handed it back, but not before writing down an address. He still looked visibly shaken as he took the stationary back and started the car. I felt a swarm of pity for the guy.
”First kills always the worst.” I joked encouragingly. Marco didn’t laugh. I took a couple of steps away from the revved up truck.
“It’s not my first kill.” He said, loud enough for me to hear it over the engine. I snorted gracefully.
“and who was that? Mario?’ I saw the flash of white and red illuminate the road as the police passed over the mouth of the street. Probably going to stop the bar fight.
Marco shook his head. “ I killed my sister.” He mournfully whispered. His words were so quiet that If I had normal hearing I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. With that Marco geared the car and drove away leaving my staring at the retreating vehicle. The shock from his words had me frozen. He thought he had killed me? Tough break. But if you think about it he kind of had. His real sister died years ago. I was a kind of…walking monument to the fact that I wasn’t her. Still. That was something even I felt pain from hearing.
Ignoring the feeling of guilt threatening to arise i turned my attention from those thoughts and back onto the task at hand. I was tired and dirty and had blood splattered on my shirt. My short hair stuck to the drying splatters on my face and I couldn’t be bothered sweeping them away. I was exhausted and my bones were protesting against movement. Hopefully that was enough to sleep without dreams tonight.
I trudged slowly back to my motorbike. It was later in the night than I thought and the air was growing to cold temperatures. Scar-face was trying to meet with someone. Scratch that, he had met with someone. One town away from me. It was so close the thought of its nearness made me shiver.
I desperately wanted to know who he was meeting up with and contemplated going back into the bar and investigating. But the thought of the cops drove that away. You can’t work in my career without getting some-kind of record. Luckily it was all under false-names and only a couple of blurry photos for a face. All thanks to Mike for covering my tracks. Even with the out-dated info been around those kind of people made my skin crawl, or was that just people in general.
I hate to admit it, but scar-face had got me really worried about what was going on. I had a terrifying suspicion it had something to do with the massing rogues and the ‘Dark Man’. Scar-face was part of those experimentalists and I had assumed they all worked on their own – an independent organisation – but if like many other similar independents they joined him and his army then that would not go well. I had experienced their work first-hand, literally, it was pretty disgusting stuff but it could mean something much bigger if they perfected their drug. I had hoped that by burning their place down I had destroyed all their work and now I wasn’t so sure. Let’s just say that it represented a scenario I did not want to meet with.