Fowen
SacramentA blast of light, and then the sensation of flying knocked the wind out of the scratch. Her body was bent at a wrong angle, with a dark pool of blood forming beneath her, allowing her one last look at her horrified expression before her world went black. Jamie gave one last shudder, and then went absolutely still.
More earth shattering explosions followed, followed by the musical ring of glass hitting the metal ground. Debris thudded all around the broken body that once was a swollen bellied woman. Screams rent the air, leaving no peace in between the mass chaos of death’s invasion. Hours would pass, and so would the sound, and the silence would become invisible noise. There was no one left to scream. That would last, until choice few would come running, maybe limping, and view the destruction with wails in their throats. Keening, weeping, grieving, mourning in however way they could before they too had to escape with only their lives.
It had come so fast, there had been no warning, no explanation, no time. Their Sanctuary was under attack. How fitting that she would be the first among many; a scratch, nearly bringing life to another scratch. This mutation would not be allowed to bring life into Lucent. And no one came.
SinCollins was on the edge of his balcony, drunk as sin, when Ivan came, screaming in his heartbroken rage.
“WHAT THE HELL, COLLINS!”
The dragon turned, crying, “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t…”
Ivan stood there trembling in all his fury, all his pain. Then, by force of habit, and by the compassion he felt towards the scratch, the cheetah encircled the drunken man with his arms, pretending to protect him from the pain. Collins held him close, clinging like the child he never was. The moment passed, and Ivan pushed him away, disgust in his cold eyes.
Collins turned away, refusing to see the loathing where once was love. The cheetah sighed, too tired to care how much it would hurt later, and forced him to look at the hatred. The dragon whimpered, understanding the depth of his mistakes. Ivan, tense, leaned in, and gave the golden-eyed man one last, undeserved kiss. It was a chaste kiss, one that showed love long spent, and heartbreak, fresh and stinging. They drew back from each other, tired of pretending.
“Do what you have came to do, Ivan,” breathed Collins.
The icy eyes searched his expression, growing more regretful by the second. Somehow, the scratch knew; how long, he did not know, but there were no secrets now. With one last murmur of regret, Ivan pushed. Then the man, who was responsible for the death that was being unleashed right at that moment, was no longer, body crushed from the impact. And no one came.
StolenAidtith woke up from her drug induced unconsciousness, eyes cutting through the dark room’s interior. She felt as if the world was swinging beneath her. It was rocking, she was on a ship. Her skull throbbed as she tried to sit up. The Seraph lifted her suddenly all-too-heavy head, trying to force her sluggish blood to flow. Someone drugged me. Soon it became apparent that she could not swing her graceful legs off the bed, even if she had the strength. Aidtith was chained to the bunk bed.
Anger behind the desperate need to never be helpless again, she yanked at them, twisting her body to and fro, matching the now frantic sway of the ship. Coarse sheets made of poor linen scratched against her thighs and belly as she pulled. Once damp with sweat, however, she collapsed, exhausted. Heart now beating like the wings of a bird against her ribcage, she felt the last remnants of the drug as her head began to spin.
Trapped, I’m trapped; I don’t know where I am. All I know is I’m trapped, here, alone, in the dark.“Who’s there,” gasped a frightened voice, thick with their tongue cotton dry from being drugged.
The elk stopped cold, realization flooding in her like a frozen ocean. Someone else was there! Groans from other passengers who filled the cramped space began to make her own maladies seem inconsequential. Later, she would find, to her horror, it would have been better if no one was there. On that ship there were almost one-third of the Angels there, and not one of them was a scratch. And no one came.
SanctuaryBreath flooded his lungs, almost as quickly as it left him. He sucked in hurried gasps as he forced himself to run at a breath-taking pace. There was no doubt in his mind; he would not live to see the next sunrise.
She was too fast; he had known that if he ever faced her alone, he would not be allowed to escape death again. Samantha was fast, a weapon only used for gathering information until now, and she was willing to use it against him despite their history. Who had he been kidding?
Just because you made friends with someone didn’t mean they couldn’t be programmed as a machine designed to spill your guts. Rook made his way up the Saint Lucent Express Station stairs at a blinding speed, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His claws still picked up the sound of her footsteps close behind him, and closer.
Didn’t that girl need to breath, what was she freaking made of?! The Killer raced down the street, trying to make for the Sanctuary that was the Angel base.
That’s when he hesitated for a fraction of a second; horror flooding his face. That was all the time his Hunter needed. With a feral snarl, Samantha leapt onto Rook, causing him to topple over. With a savage cry filled with sorrow, he retaliated, claws tearing at any flesh they could find. But it was over the minute he had hesitated. Faster than his eyes could follow, she tore out his throat with one savage rip. Laughing in her frenzy, she darted away, searching for more prey.
Rook clawed at his throat, which was gushing blood. His heart betrayed him, still steadily pumping out his life, uncaring of the consequences. It was in his mouth, his eyes, and his hands, everywhere. And he was drowning, drowning, drowning.
Soon his eyes no longer reflected any vicious life that was once present. No, now they only reflected the Angel’s Sanctuary, going up in flames. And no one came.
SacredLinda was thrown against the tree; eyes showing her fear of the enraged man before her.
“You will tell me what is going on,” he snarled in a soft, cold voice. She looked at her hands, hesitating in her answer. With a roar, the tiger lifted her up by the front of her shirt. “TELL ME WHY THE SANCTUARY IS ON FIRE YOU TWO-FACED MAGGOT!!!” She began crying hysterically, but he did not relent his grip.
“I—It’s a—a—a—”
He growled low in his throat, eyes glowing menacingly in the dark shadows of the forest, “Speak up, what is
it?!” The panda looked up at the smoke seen from her height, and looked away from what she had brought about, with such self-loathing, that the man released his frightening grip, and let her slide down the rough bark. He stepped back, and turned, ready to sprint off to find his mate.
“Zarek, don’t,” came her plea. He stopped, though did not turn. “It’s too late,” she continued, “You should leave before they find out who your lover is.” The tiger turned, expressionless but for the one question that loomed in his golden eyes. “It’s all over, the Scratches are done for, and so is anyone who defends them.” And no one came.
SufferingJenni screamed, hoping her pain would reach someone’s ears, anyone’s.
A savior, her panicking mind pleaded,
I don’t care who or how, just please, someone, help me.
Her heart stopped as the door opened, and returned to its hurried little symphony when light flooded the room. The figure had turned on the overhead lights, and was making his way to her side. Her emerald eyes followed his every step, as they began to come into focus. “With such rapt attention on your part, I might start forgiving you,” came his barely familiar chuckle.
She flushed, and tried to sit up, only to find she was very firmly bound to the steel chair. “Who are you, what do you want with me?” she cried in a trembling, panicky voice.
“Oh,” came his disappointed tone of voice, “don’t you remember me?”
The mink scanned his face, trying to recall it with all her desperate energy. “You—you tried to hire me once, didn’t you?” came her reply.
He clapped his paws with an amused smile on his face, “Very good my dear, though I am surprised that you remember. Do you also remember why you refused me?” Jenni stared at him, not daring to anger him any farther by answering. Michael waited, expecting a reply, but seeing as how he might never get one, he pulled out a tiny device, meant only to incite pain.
“They’ll find you. I swear they’ll find you. You’re a dead man,” and with that, she spat at his face.
The lion merely smiled, “They?”
Jenni cried, “The Angels, though they may not save me, they will find you, and they will kill you.”
He licked his cheek, tasting her anger in the spittle, and growing hungry for her submission. “We shall see little one.” Then locking her emerald eyes with his own lovely blue ones, he held the device near to her belly, and turned it on. And no one came.
SacrificeAdeline turned to see where the noise was coming from on the deck, when she realized her passengers had awakened and discovered their predicament. Grim-faced, she made her way below deck to the brig. She turned on her Keyxi’s infrared vision and viewed her “guests”. They were all pure-bred Angels, all the “fowen”. Only they had been allowed by the people of Lucent to be spared, but only if taken to exile.
The devil had led her through his dance, cajoling her with promises never to be kept, and soft whispered words that should have never been spoken. Groves had left her, had gotten himself killed, leaving her alone, empty. She had pulled her glittering, shattered wall around her, growing cold to those she had once called friends.
At first she had done well, devoting herself solely to the Foundry, until she found that she had become what she had hated. Views were distorted, and there was bitter bickering among her most devoted followers as to what should be done, though it was not there decision. Muttering had echoed the alleyways as their trust in her was misplaced again and again as she led them along wild plans born of one too many drinks. Once her health had begun to fail, the Foundry had scattered, not even fighting to preserve the dream. Only choice few stuck by her side, either in false hope, or with not knowing what else to do.
Powerless, she began to start her life over. Name changed and with a new set of ideals, she gathered new followers with long speeches filled with glorious but unrealistic ideas. That was when she met him.
Collins had convinced her, as he had persuaded the people, with those eyes, and that voice. It had been the first time she had believed in a cause so purely, even her own, and without any thought. Once the Angel purge finally came to bear roots, she knew she had found her purpose. She made her way back up deck, limbs wooden still with shock. Those eyes had compelled her to volunteer the one thing she alone could do.
Since the Gates had blocked all ships going in and out, it had been found that she alone could control any ship without fearing death. The Gates would spare her, as it had before. But now, as she saw the burning city, heard the cries ringing from the Sanctuary, she knew. It was twisted, and wrong, but she had helped in the massacre. Adeline had been compelled to obey her destiny, one of her own making, that of a traitor. And no one came.
SinisterDmitri fought unconsciousness, but who could after getting the snot beat out of him for half an hour? The man doing the snot beating was still laughing, his manic, crazy one that always got a rise out of people at Halloween. He enjoyed beating the weapons master to a pulp, after all the misery he put him through; first with the robotic suit business, and then with the mysterious disappearance of his brother.
Eventually the strange looking scratch stopped moving, barely breathing past broken ribs that threatened at any moment to pierce his lungs open and drain the life from him. Karanass kneeled down, and pulled out a sharp blade from inside his jacket. With quick precision that spoke of strange goings on in the recent past, he began slicing the skin off of Dmitri, starting with his fingers. And no one came.
StatusThe scratch lunged at the fowen, with the personification of revenge permanently stamped into her expression. Flames etched in her mind, driving her mad with the pain of remembering the screams. Songs of the dead, ones sung through gritted teeth and ravaged throats by people she loved. No mercy for those who chose to aid in this act of pure and undiluted evil.
The Siberian tiger gracefully side-stepped the lunge, and landed a crippling blow onto the neck of her opponent. The scratch gave a grimace of pain, but hatred consumed her, and she twisted her body around and pulled Sasha onto her, ignoring the pain of ribs bruising. The tiger, unprepared for such a maneuver, fell down ungracefully, and found herself with rocks digging into her spine as Vice pinned her down.
Still, she wasn’t hired by the Council for no reason.
It’s been years since I’ve been seen as a kit in the adult world. Sasha cuffed both of Vice’s ears with her paws at nearly the same time with as much force as she could muster. Giving out a cry, the scratch drew back, and began striking blindly as her vision blurred with unbidden tears. Grinning with renewed confidence, the fowen struck her in between the eyes and rolled to her feet with blinding speed.
No, I can’t lose here. Sensations of warmth associated with arms and firesides flashed through her mind. They were replaced by images of bloody paws and blazing fires consuming her home.
She always said there will be better times if I work at it.The cocky grin soon was wiped of Sasha's face, however, when she found her feet knocked out from under her, and came crashing down. Vice meanwhile, slashed at her belly with the tiny but jagged knife, leaving no room to break her fall. Sasha’s head thudded on a protruding rock, and blacked out.
Brutal and feral instinct meant for killers overcame all rational thought. Maybe later when all was said and done, she might come to terms with bashing the fowen’s pretty head against the clammy floor until there was a satisfying crack. But not everything was said and done. The only thing she would admit to herself was that the murderess was done for, slaughtered out of justice. Vice gave her one look before limping out of the cave, searching for any other signs of life. And no one came.
SilenceEveryone looked the same dead, he tried to convince himself. Surely she died without knowing what hit her. No, if her, then what about…Zarek turned away from the bloody corpse that was lined with shrapnel, and still carrying the now dead child within her.
Rook. Only he could fix this, he was the one who would protect him, make this all go away. But no, he knew Rook must never know; must never see this. Better if Rook were dead then for him to see his one child lying in her own pool of blood.
Footsteps ran towards him, strong and intent in their purpose. The tiger turned; eyes wary and sick with pain. Vice ran to him, limping, bruised, and bleeding from a shallow cut along her arm, but alive never the less. He nearly broke down there, seeing her; everyone else seemed to have either been slaughtered or taken.
She froze the moment she saw blood all over his front, covering him like armor. Once she saw the broken corpse of Jamie, however, she made her way over to him. “I’m sorry,” came her cutting words, murdering the silence. Though they were ineffectual, and did nothing to help bear the pain, he clung to them like a dying man. So, he merely nodded, letting her believe it was Jamie’s, and not the blood of Linda Melina Van Rossem.
She looked at him, calculating that it was best that he did not ask any questions as to why her gloves her bloody. With deft movements, she stripped the state of the art gloves and pushed them into her pocket. Coolly and briskly, “We best move, there’s no telling what is going on, and we need to regroup and find more of the situation.” She refused to let her heart quail when she realized, there might not be anyone else to regroup. That was no matter, now they were being hunted, and they needed to leave the Sanctuary immediately.
Without another word shared, they made their way towards the ocean, searching for a place to hide. And no one came.
SurrealVicious lavender eyes searched the emptiness, finding only a void surrounding her. Alone, all alone again; just when she was learning to love, to live, and to be free. She was trapped again, with no hope in sight.
And no one came.
And no one has come.
And no one will come…
O wow I forgot. -doi-