"On your feet, kiddo - we're off!" If Rowan was granted a cent every time the likes of something along those lines escaped Butcher's throat, he would practically be giving her pocket money: "Chop, chop, Sunshine!"
She let out an exhausted groan - despite the past few hours being, possibly, the most obliviously pleasurable ones of her life. He was the only person who'd entered that proximity without intent to harm for a painfully long time. She flinched at the sound of him clapping from the other side of the room, stretching her shoulder blades out and switching off the TV. "Yeah, let's waltz into the street and pretend it's safe. Pretend everyone doesn't fucking know the twats who 'killed' Madelyn Stillwell." Rowan shrugged.
"Good job we ain't fuckin' waltzing into the Goddamn street then, innit'?" He barked defensively while still attempting to rally her into action. "We have means of transport, I don't qualify as a complete wanker."
"Not yet."
"Fine, what did I fucking do?" Butcher challenged, marching towards her.
"It's not all about you, dickhead." Rowan stood rather abruptly,"I know you-"
"Oh, I see - you're turning into a fucking teenager, that's it!" He clapped sarcastically.
She reached yelling volume, yet again,"A fucking teenager?! Maybe it's the fact I turned into this for monsters to be created!"
"Rich, coming from someone only born to be one of 'em." As soon as the child froze, it was apparent that a line had been crossed. The unspoken line which hardly prohibited certain curses or insults, but more so the tone used with them.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She whispered, genuinely clueless of this man.
"Alright-"
The moment noise escaped, Rowan exploded,"NO! NOTHING ABOUT US IS FUCKING OKAY!"
"Us?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"The only reason we're together is because we lost people." She pointed accusatively,"At least your wife's still fucking alive!" She didn't intend for words like those ones to come out, but they had brewing since her head came into intentional contact with the ground that morning.
Butcher took a few steps towards her, consoling his smoking fury caused by this kid,"Kiddo," He paused as she flinched a second time - she didn't really think he would...
Jaw clenched and fists roaring in view, Rowan simply grimaced - it may have been in his direction, but she was more disgusted by the attacks she had recently spewed. "I'm sorry." She sighed, eyes rolling before her bare feet turned against the cool floors and she wandered straight out of the door, waltzing into the street, pretending no one would fucking recognise her, pretending it was safe.
___________________
Rowan's mind shouldn't have been particularly blank - but it wasn't like she could exactly help it. She was literally stumbling aimlessly - where the fuck else did she have to hide now she let people into her privacy?
"Now's not the time, sis." She groaned as heavy breathing filled her ears, whispering incoherence about the middle of the road, jumbled up with a cruel drum kit inside her mind. "Stop it..." She groaned, wobbling through her feet. "We really need to work together, you and I - we could both turn out fine if you weren't constantly telling me to fucking kill myself." She muttered, almost walking into a wall.
Her body impulsively cowered away from two boys nervously approaching her, cell phones clenched in their hands.
"A-are you really her?" One of them stammered out nervously, face frozen in terror,"Are you The Striker?"
Her breath stung in her lungs as her eyes wandered around the endless buildings and screens suffocating her. Every direction she turned, the supes were watching her, waiting for her to step one toe out of line so they could swoop down and tear her apart. Who was she kidding? She was already being torn apart. This was a decline. Breathing a little heavier than she was comfortable with, Rowan attempted to embrace this new identity of owning her own self-destruction, twitching her nose at the boys her age still staring,"Run." She growled, smirking to herself when they immediately backed away and fled at her command. She powered over them - like some sort of... superhero.
____________________
Eyes narrowed in ambitious challenge, Rowan was currently sat at the sticky table, feet up and fingers playfully toying with a knife. She always knew she'd have to kill Jay - he was the only one who knew how to find her before times of The Boys had hung her upside down, he never knew her real name and she liked it that way.
A smirk tugged at her lips as soon as small footsteps creaked down the carpeted stairs. She could hardly make out the landing with the window at the top from the kitchen table but the house was old and run down enough to hear someone from the ground floor. The young woman, considerable years younger than Hughie, jumped as soon as she caught sight of the adolescent making herself comfortable in her boyfriend's home.
"Mornin', Love. Holly...?" Rowan guessed, pointing at her casually with the blade.
The brunette stared at her with pretty, blue eyes for a moment before sighing, slipping on an oversized jumper from the cluttered floor,"He didn't think you'd be back so soon."
"So, it's true." She nodded, seemingly rather impressed,"He's never managed to hang onto a girl for this long before. Remind me, how long's it been?"
"Eight months." Holly scowled - she was clearly irritated by the fact that this child knew her boyfriend better than she did. Perhaps, Rowan may have even been a little jealous - the girls came and went, she was the one who had stayed for four years. But now, it seemed Jay had actually started to settle down with someone.
WHY ARE YOU JEALOUS?
HE BETRAYED YOU!
YOU RIP HER FACE OFF RIGHT NOW!
"Well, that's news to me." She delicately ran her finger over the sharp point in the steel and let out a short, genuine sigh of disappointment,"Why'd he do it?" She whispered.
"You didn't think those videos wouldn't get out eventually, did you?" The young woman began to tie her hair up into a messy bun at the top back of her head. As she watched carefully, Rowan somewhat admired it - she never thought of keeping her hair out of her face like that. If she did so, her hair would be out of her face and one of her main features would be hidden from the public. She was snapped out of her train of thought by more creaky steps, followed by the tanned, young man with curly, dark hair and exposed muscles stepping into view, running a hand over his head and instantly freezing when his eyes met those of the one he betrayed. "I'll go get some breakfast." Holly sighed, noting the thick tension and deciding it was best to leave the two of them and go out.
"Well, she's quite tasty, up close and personal." Rowan decided, shifting in her seat and leaning back.
"Yeah, and she doesn't give a fuck about my superhero pants." Jay hissed, ripping out a draw from one of the plastic cabinets.
What's behind drawer number one?
She stared as he rustled around in the box of weapons, finally groaning,"For fuck's sake, Jay." She sighed,"Put a fucking shirt on, you're making me dry-heave."
He scoffed and did as he was ordered,"You don't need anything, why are you here, Rowan?" He teased, now having learned the the girl's name from reports of the videos he released for the internet to feast on.
"Isn't it obvious?" She chuckled, sitting upright and pulling herself to her feet,"I'm here to wipe the fucking floor with you, pretty boy."
Jay let out an impatient sigh, putting on a clearly 'defeated' face before raising his hand and pointing a pistol directly at her,"I'd like to see you try with a bullet in your brain."
Pressing her dry, peeling lips together, Rowan purely watched the gun, watched his finger tighten around the trigger. Maybe she should've been praying for her life, maybe she should have at least blinked when he pulled the trigger. But she just stared, listening to a click batter the silence in the room, a dazed high glazing over her face.
Jay was beyond confusion when an anticlimax washed over them - he was unbeknownst to the fact that she had made an effort to disassemble most of the guns within reach before either of them had gotten downstairs. Having been acquainted with 'The Striker' for a number of years, he already had a pretty good idea he was knee-deep in shit. A rule with Rowan Fields was that if you didn't kill her straight away, you weren't ever likely to in future. In a way, it was a 'now or nothing' situation.
Rowan slammed the knife down on the wooden table and grabbed hold of the chair she'd been sitting on, using all the strength in her right arm to fling it across the table and letting out a disgruntled giggle when he ducked and was brought to his knees by the furniture flying at him. She joyfully hopped up onto the table and brought the blade along with her, deliberately jumping heavy footed onto the backrest of the chair at the other side and crushing his ribs underneath.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He groaned pain out of his voice, arms trapped beneath the chair she was now crouching on, beaming happily at him from above.
"Look, I'm being perfectly reasonable," She hummed contently while using the knife to carve the Vought logo into both of his cheeks, one at a time,"You're obviously not making any money from this, so why'd you do it?"
"You're not getting anything out of this," He winced, shuffling slightly and evading the question,"I could ask you the same."
"You're wrong." Rowan smirked,"I am getting something out of this." She whispered extremely close to his face,"It makes me feel nice." She leapt off the chair, freeing him in the process,"Now, stand up and fight me, motherfucker."
Despite it being her coping mechanism for, well, everything, Rowan knew it wasn't sensible to resort back to causing more pain for the sake of it. The media liked to toy with the idea that due to her self-upbringing, she didn't know right from wrong - that she could be anywhere, ready to explode at any minute. As Vought have taught us, fear always works. But it was a lie. Rowan knew very well what she should and shouldn't be doing, but she would never let it get in the way of her decisions. After all, she'd have so much less than she gained over the past few months without bloody knuckles.
To put it simply, Rowan Fields did have a conscience. But she chose to ignore it.
A flurry of hits flew around the room, two pairs of fists coming into contact with wood, granite, glass, but most importantly, human skin. There was absolutely nothing glamorous or fancy about any of the moves, just pure, unfiltered rage.
Rowan ducked away from the hand hurtling towards her and received achy knees in the process, which consequently distracted her from the foot swinging for her head and knocking her into the cupboard, tempting a groan of depraved pleasure out of her lungs.
We're loosing.
We don't loose.
Do you want this or not?
She smirked and swiftly rolled over, out of the way of Jay throwing another punch and causing wooden splinters to pierce his knuckles and a frustrated yelp to differ from the grunts and smashes filling the room. She mischievously crawled under the table and reached her arm over the top to grab the kitchen knife, nails grating on the wood like claws against a tree. A thud above her thundered through her ears - this was one stupid kid. Intent on teasing fear, Rowan trailed the sharp edge on the under side of the table, and spat blood out of one side as a distraction. She peeked out and saw his head turned away, instantly clambering up behind him and stabbing the blade right between his shoulder blades.
A deafening scream swam through her ears - it made her heart rattle inside her chest. Rowan let out a psychotic scream along with him. Maybe she knew how inappropriate it sounded, a fourteen and twenty year old shouting 'pleasurably' at once.
"Jay," She leaned around and whispered sweetly,"Why'd you do it?"
"We... need to... know..." He winced, laying flat on his stomach on the table,"Who you... are..."
"Who's 'we'?" She pressed, sharply snacking his cheek and leaving a red mark around the cuts of the 'V'.
A harsh exhale escaped, followed by a cloudy grey fading over the soft orange in his eyes. "Who the fuck are you talking about!? Jay!? JAY?!"
Her infuriated clamours were cut short by the door creaking open and a terrified gasp bringing down the volume of her destruction. Rowan looked up and turned her head, meeting the extremely widened eyes of Holly, frozen to the doorway.
She should've known this would end in blood and tears - she helped leak the videos herself. She watched terror take over,"You monster."
"Sounds about right."
"They're gonna' take you in for this," Her voice shook, tears spilling down her discreet makeup,"You can't carry on."
Rowan scoffed,"You got no fucking clue." She smirked.
____________________
"Breaking news: The Striker has struck again. Reports of disturbing noises from number 7, Whinlatter Drive just led to the discovery of the bodies of two young adults. The unidentified victims share similar brutality patterns - with the male's spinal column being partially torn out and the female's eyes mysteriously missing. Updates on this case will be as we get them."
Rowan watched, among a small crowd gathered before a TV screen in a gas station window. They'd already found the bodies. They were getting closer.
"I'm telling you, man - that kid just needs people. 'Little tender, love and care - she'd be fine." She picked up on one of the excessively loud, male voices looking for lightning behind her.
His companion disagreed,"Fuck no - little fag's just thirsty. She's just another asshole, like that Butcher maniac. You honestly think there's a chance in God's heaven anyone ever cared about her?"
Claws digging into her palms, Rowan forced a train of thought through her mind,"Just the one."