The only thing I desire? The one thing I crave? Sending your horny ass back to Hell where it belongs
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Post by Nevermore on Apr 5, 2018 2:55:36 GMT
Timeline: After Spinning a Life-Line Previous Threads: Spinning a Life-Line Characters Involved: Jake Jenning/Nevermore; Raz/Hellhound Location: Unoccupied apartment in NYC Everything feels...so heavy...His head reeling, muscles feeling like they were injected beyond capacity with lead and concrete, Nevermore stirred between waking and dreaming, not exactly sure which one would be the better of the two options right now. Tiny pins of light tried to sneak past shuttered lashes in his vision, but did nothing but make his head hurt until they dimmed away into darkness once more. His whole body felt limp and cold, as if he were dead and somehow his soul was still trapped inside its vessel, aware that it was there, but unable to muster up the strength to cry out for help. What the hell....
Not much else crept through his mind other than that briefly passing thought, but Jake forced himself to try and focus, one body part at a time. He started with his eyes, trying to open them again as his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, but his head still felt too heavy, every failed twitch threatening to send him drifting back into unconsciousness. More sleep seemed so nice right now...when was the last time he really allowed himself that luxury? Maybe he'd feel better after a few more minutes... No. Focus. Wake up.He squeezed his eyes once more, slowly opening them wider now, but what little he could make out in the room he found himself in spun and swirled like a kaleidoscope, making him feel violently nauseous until he let his head hang down in darkness once again. Jake swallowed in an attempt to wet his throat and tried to make any kind of sound, but failed in the endeavor, as if his tongue were three times its normal size and his mouth was completely filled up with cotton. He tried his fingers next, just barely wriggling them stiffly behind him, feeling every numb knuckle loosening with motion as he became more aware of sensation. His arms were pulled back at an odd angle, causing a strain in his shoulders, but more unnerving was the unpleasant, dull slicing of something digging roughly into his wrists with each attempt at motion. Jake gritted his teeth, trying to lift his head again with a weakened groan as another wave of nausea rippled through him, his skin and muscles prickling like it was being stabbed from the inside by thousands of needles trying to burst through. Dammit...DAMMIT! Gotta...gotta wake up...gotta get...home...Jake was cognitive enough to realize he was in danger, but the whirling maelstrom in his skull and stomach made it unclear where he had been taken, or who had taken him. Was he in a hidden facility? A military base? A hellscape? He couldn't tell, and he could barely think, shots of terror-fueled adrenaline giving him just enough awareness of the trouble he was likely in. He remembered Kris...how scared she was...he remembered Spider-Man getting her out of the crowd. The rabble and lights and sheer hate of the riot below his feet still echoed gently in his ears. He had been flying, flying so high, awash in flames, in front of hundreds of people, and in that moment he didn't care who saw – he had to see to it that his friends escaped, no matter what the cost. This, it seemed, was the cost. Bound and drugged and hidden away, with no one ever to know where he was. No one, save for the one who brought him here. Raz
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"Polite, professional -- but f**k with me and I'll kill you."
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Post by Raz on Apr 8, 2018 23:13:12 GMT
Raz watched him wake up warily. There could be no telling how he'd react after glancing around the room, no telling what his powers could do. Flame had certainly been a part of it but these days, she never assumed that's where it ended. That's how a soldier died. They took the eye off the target. Let their guard down. And at the end of the day, this was still a war. If an enemy exposed a weakness, you exploited it. Do whatever it takes to win. That's the rule. no exceptions, no doubts. Whether conducting strategies across multiple fronts, a single battlefield, or in a single encounter, that rule held supreme. As his head lifted, lolling to the side groggily, she licked her lips, took a steady breath and fixed her grip on the tranq gun. If he tried to burn his way out, she'd have to put him under again. That would be somewhere between worst case scenario and best case scenario. Unfortunately, she knew the odds were stacked in the favor of worst.Before he could get too cognizant, she spoke, firmly but steady. "Sir, I advise you do not take any aggressive action or use your powers. I'm standing right in front of you with a tranq gun and I'd really prefer to not use it." She paused, giving him time to let that sink in. Much as she wanted to, she couldn't open the helmet, not until she had at least some form of verbal compliance. She didn't savor the idea of harder interrogation but if that's what it took to get answers and keep people safe... It shouldn't be this way.
But she'd do whatever it took to learn more. To grasp the truth hidden behind layers of deceit, veiled threats, and red tape. Something was happening and she needed to see. She needed to acquire the right target. Any doubts were washed away by a cold, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she might be aiding twisted, inhuman methods and worse this entire time. Behind that feeling lay a flat, cold rage she carefully steered away from. The tension hung thick in the air. Some sixth sense -- which anyone who's survived as long as she has, is an extremely developed and reliable sense -- told her this would be a turning point in history, for good or bad. God help her in choosing the right one. Even if it meant putting the screws into this kid to get what she needed. Innocents counted on her. She would exploit every weakness, every crack in the armor, use every advantage and scratch out an opportunity wherever she could, to protect those people. To do the right thing. To win a war. I just hope I'm on the right side.
"I haven't taken you into custody, yet. But that depends on what happens in the next fifteen minutes. If you use your powers or I think you're about to, I dart you. If you start screaming for help, I dart you. If you try to blow up this building, I dart you. You are not in danger. I don't want to hurt you but I will if I am forced to. However, I need some very clear answers to some very serious questions and I will do whatever it takes to acquire those answers. I need you to say you understand."She stared at him steadily, her faceted, metal helmet betraying nothing. Nevermore
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The only thing I desire? The one thing I crave? Sending your horny ass back to Hell where it belongs
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Post by Nevermore on Apr 10, 2018 1:05:12 GMT
A firm, authoritative voice broke through the fog enveloping the young vigilante's brain, sending another shot of much needed adrenaline through his blood, making him just a little bit more aware of his surroundings, as well as the bruising pain that spread like venom in his leg. A tranquilizer...well, that certainly explained why he felt so unnaturally sleepy to the point of nausea. Jake stirred a little more, shaking his head slowly to chase away the blurred dizziness still overtaking his senses, hoping this small motion wouldn't trigger his captor into filling him with more of whatever poison they had injected into him...or worse. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and opened them wide again to refocus, his vision still splitting and coming back together as one image until it finally seemed to even out to see clearly enough. Not perfect, but at least the world wasn't spinning as much. “Don't...shoot...” Jake woozily managed to croak out through his dry throat, finally lifting his head fully to come face to face with the golem of sleek, dark ebony that stood before him, weapon aimed to put him out at a second's notice. He stared in an awed daze at the shiny black visor of the helmet that hid this person's face, but no armor could block away the powerful energy that flowed from the one who donned it. His inhibitions stripped away from the chemical cocktail still waning in his system, the palpable tenacity and sheer force of will that emitted from this person's heart rushed his spiritual sense like a landslide down a mountain, razing all in its path with a rumbling roar. Jake grit his teeth, focusing with all that he was to hold back his own energy and power that only wanted to start sparking all at once in response. He swallowed hard to wet his throat to more easily speak, an act far more difficult than expected, and spoke again, his voice very soft and rough, “Understand...won't attack...won't...escape...” His brow furrowed with a wave of illness and remnant dizziness, even his tongue feeling too heavy to speak at his usual Jersey speed. “Fear...makes me flicker...a bit...please...don't shoot...”
The bound neo tried to swallow again a few times, flexing his fingers behind him where they were tied to keep the blood flowing, sensation starting to ripple back into him very slowly. The more feeling that returned to him, the more distress knotted up in his stomach and chest at the realization of the gravity of his situation. “C-Can I...ask for water...?”Raz
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"Polite, professional -- but f**k with me and I'll kill you."
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Post by Raz on Apr 21, 2018 17:41:06 GMT
It'd be a lie to say her heart didn't jump a little at the flickering sparks of violet fire that went wisping off the man. She'd seen more than enough neos at work to know that powers couldn't always be controlled, or even reacted to emotional distress. But he still seemed pretty out of it, fighting to control his senses -- it almost looked like he fought against some invisible flood shoving him back into the chair; head down, jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut, he visibly battled against something. Probably the drugs dulling his senses, but you could never be sure with neos.... Still, he didn't seem like an immediate threat. His explanation made sense, after all. Licking her lips with a suddenly dry mouth, she didn't lower her gun much. "I won't shoot you, but that's only as good as long as you keep to those rules, alright?"She nodded slowly at his request. "Sure."Advancing slowly, keeping a wary eye on those zipties should they start to melt, Raz approached him. The velcro latch on the belt sounded obnoxiously loud in the tense air as she opened up another strap on her belt and pulled out an old-fashioned canteen. She'd always liked these; they were durable, carried a lot, and easy to clean. Best of all, they opened up easily, without a screw-top, but with a solid plug. A flick of the thumb and the canteen opened. She held it to his lips. "Here. Slow sips." She held it steady for him to drink and not get it all over himself. She'd dropped a flavor tablet in it, giving the water a bright, orange flavor, packed full of antioxidants and some sugar to keep her blood levels up while out on patrol. Inevitably, due to the awkward nature of their positions, some of it got on him anyway. When he'd drunk at least a solid cups' worth, she set the canteen down and gently dabbed at his face with the corner of his cloak, wiping away the stray orange drabbles. "There. You don't have to be scared, Nevermore. I know it might seem hard to believe but hurting or scaring you is the last thing I want to do. I've only done what's necessary to stay safe. I don't know you. So I can't trust you. I hope you understand the position that puts me in and how much of a risk I'm already taking here."With a soft sigh, she crouched by his side and closed the canteen. "How's you're throat? Think you can answer some questions for me? Can I get your promise to hear me out before you try any escape attempts?"The last came out a bit more wryly than she intended. By this point, it became clear to her that damn near every neo or Vagrant would attempt to attack her at the first opportunity they got. She'd come to accept it as an inevitability now. "See, the reason you're here... I need your help."Nevermore
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The only thing I desire? The one thing I crave? Sending your horny ass back to Hell where it belongs
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Post by Nevermore on Apr 21, 2018 19:53:57 GMT
Cold, bright citrus washed over his tongue, and Nevermore instantly felt a lot more rejuvenated as he drank slowly, as instructed, even though his throat practically begged him to take in as much as he could, as quickly as he could gulp it down. Neon orange liquid dribbled down his chin and made him sputter and choke a bit, but running as hot as he had been, the cooling sensation was graciously welcomed. The heavily armored soldier gently cleaned him up after he had drank his fill, and Jake watched her carefully as she did so, more bewildered than anything as the dizzy swirling in his head finally slowed and calmed. “...thank you...” he whispered, the violet sparks of flame wisping off his cloak and hair lessening, though one or two still managed to sneak through. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself, putting on a braver face and a small, somewhat cocky smirk, despite the fear in his eyes being dreadfully apparent. “Heh...guess my reputation...proceeds me...” Jake replied when the soldier referred to him by his chosen name, shifting his shoulders a bit in discomfort. “I understand that I'm...not really in a position to...um...negotiate? But I....I can't really trust you either, you know? Given the...um...” he wriggled his wrists and hips a bit, unable to move from where he was tied. “...circumstances? For all I know, you could be looking to sell me off to the highest bidder at auction or something.” Despite the tone, that last part wasn't a joke, and the young man's expression flinched to something more pained, a sharp thought cutting into him. He had nearly lost a dear friend to neo-human trafficking, and had just barely managed to talk her out of a very messy suicide. There was a part of him that wondered if he had made a lick of difference getting involved at all, a dark seed of doubt planting itself in his heart of whether he was even cut out to play this damn hero game or not. The deadened and agonized look in Kris's eyes made him feel sick to his stomach again, a small, chastising voice in his head taunting that he was helpless to save her, just as he was helpless to save his brother those scant few years ago, and that the same end is doomed to repeat itself. “Poor little Nevermore, what did you think being a superhero actually meant?”All Jake ever wanted was to be a hero. “Running around in pretty little costumes with fancy little powers, saving the day? Punch the purse stealer, stop the bank robbery, win the girl's heart?”
He wanted was to be like his father. Strong, brave...a proud soldier. ”You adorable fool...such a child's way of thinking.”
Jake grit his teeth and shook his head again to regain his bearings. “Tell me...who you are first,” he said cautiously, tensing in expectation of a strike or a shot, though there was more strength in his voice now. “Who you work for. And why you think I can help you.”Raz
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"Polite, professional -- but f**k with me and I'll kill you."
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Post by Raz on Apr 23, 2018 5:57:29 GMT
Raz froze at the implications of his words. What in the hell did he mean sell off to the highest bidder? Just what in the hell kind of things had he heard about her -- about people like her -- to make him think that? Or worse... what had he seen? Words jumped to her tongue immediately, sharp and rebuking, but they halted before they every launched. Not for the first time, she felt thankful for the helmet masking her expression. Several emotions had flickered across it, from shock, disgust, anger and deep, profound hurt. His words, though not aimed as such, had struck her deeply. That he would think she would do something like that... that she, a goddamn soldier of the United States of America would do just sell him off like nothing, like a piece of chattel...Her blood started to rise and she had to dip her head for a moment, breathing in deeply. Though she said nothing, it didn't take a genius to figure out his words had hit her hard. One metal fingertip tapped out a calming but rapid rhythm on the metal covering her knee as she reigned herself in. This was just evidence. That's what she told herself. More evidence of something deeply wrong going on with the world. Something that had involved her, had stained her honor and everything she stood for, including the great country she loved and protected with every iota of her being. Her anger really didn't focus on him, it focused on those responsible for his assumption in the first place. It shouldn't be this way.She nodded to her thoughts before standing. Though his facade could probably fool most, it didn't stand a chance under the scrutiny of somone that'd been under fire their entire life. He was scared, but brave. She respected that. His strong defense in demanding her name even amused her. "You've got guts, Nevermore. I like it. But you're not in a position to really make demands, remember?"
The weight of her suit would crush the chairs, so she simply re-positioned to be more in front of him and stayed on one knee. The tranq gun stayed put, nestled against her shoulder; ready for action, if need be. "But I'm NOT whoever you think I am. I'm NOT like those people. The fact you even thought that disgusts me." Indeed, disgust fairly dripped from her words like green sludge, reeking and slimy. "But that's a reason I'm here. Why you're here. There's something rotten in the middle of all this and I need some straight truth. I don't owe you anything. I've given you more than enough by not killing you or dragging you into a cell."She paused, before adding quietly, "A lot of soldiers would, you know. I've lost a lot of my siblings to your kind."After a few moments, she sighed, then tapped the side of her helmet. The latch in front clicked, then flipped open. The hidden locks and invisible seams suddenly began to shift, and the various plates that made up her faceted, expressionless helmet began to slide back, toward her hairline and ears. Two support braces still bracketed the lower edge of her jaw but otherwise, her face now lay exposed to him. Brilliant cat-green eyes with the too-large irises stared at him with a predatory focus under a fringe of slightly sweaty black hair. The scar under her left eye, pale and thin, did little to mar the severe, somewhat attractive features of her face. Her nose, thought slightly crooked from being broken too many times, added a touch of character to her than detract anything. A few other scars littered even this small patch of her body: A slice over her right brow. A nick along her upper lip. A ragged seam on her chin. She'd seen many battles and it showed. "I'm the Hellhound. But my friends call me Raz. I can't untie you and I don't know if you care or not, but the fact is, I've been had my good nature played against me too many times. I'm sure you understand. It's a matter of survival. What you tell me is gonna determine what happens to you, Nevermore. It's going to decide if you go free." Inhumanely green eyes watched him. "Or if you go to a quarantined safe zone. I'm going to do what's best for the safety of everyone. That's my purpose. That's why I was made, Nevermore. Without that, I'm nothing."She gestured to the dirt on the floor. "I might as well be sh*t on everyone's shoe if I can't defend what this country stands for. A real soldier has to protect the people and their vision. Understand? Sometimes, soldiers even have to protect a country from itself. I need to know things. You will tell me these things one way or another. I prefer we do this the civilized way but if not, I am very experienced in extracting information however I need. But I'd prefer to not have to do that. I'd prefer to do this civilized. Because that's what America is. That's what we are. We're not like the Germans or Japanese in World War Two. We're not like the Russians in the fifties. We're better than that. We have honor. We treat even our prisoners with dignity. We -- you and I--" her index finger flicked between the both of them, "are supposed to be a breed above that. So let's live up to the expectation, okay?"After waiting for him to process this, she asked in a no-nonsense tone, "What happens to the neo's that are taken to the safe zones? What do you hear? Why are you so afraid to go there?"Nevermore
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The only thing I desire? The one thing I crave? Sending your horny ass back to Hell where it belongs
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Post by Nevermore on Jun 10, 2018 22:00:02 GMT
A spell of dizzying nausea overtaking him, Jake furrowed his brow and scrunched his eyes tightly closed, shaking his head again to chase away the urge to either vomit or pass out. “My kind...we're just...human...like you. Like them.” he groaned weakly, straightening his back again despite how fuzzy sitting up made his head. Droopy grey eyes scanned the room as best they could, searching for a possible escape, his vision sloping in and out, but finding none. None that seemed feasible, anyway. With this drug still running through his system, he was in no shape to fight, nor did he want to risk finding out how it might be affecting his powers. Not to mention, this armored soldier had the clear advantage, and could take him down before he could even think about taking flight. Talking seemed to be the only option for now. The soldier finally removed the front visor of her helmet, placing the pair of them on somewhat more even footing. Of course, he was still tied up and her prisoner, but Jake knew a show of good faith when he saw one. The way this woman held herself, choosing her words as cautiously and painstakingly as she did, it was clear she was making some form of effort to gain his trust. Her face was stern and battle ready, the sensation of the destructive landslide more prevalent as she studied him warily. Those jade green eyes, however, abnormal in their design and shape, gave Jake pause, causing him to tilt his head in confusion. Had he...seen that somewhere before? *** A military function, many years ago, one of the first to integrate the G1 super soldiers with other army squadrons and their families. Jake and Jason were both ten, and only understood that this was one of their dad's army parties, meaning sitting still for far too long in stuffy clothes and having to be on their best behavior. In a word, very boring. Jake didn't want to sit still while a bunch of old people babbled about this and that, and instead decided to engage his brother in the most epic game of tag ever. Long tablecloths and even longer legs made for the best hiding spots and obstacles, and the pair bounced about and ran amuck, chasing one another throughout the dining hall. Jason was currently 'it' and Jacob was not too keen on taking over that role any time soon, dodging around people's feet and dancing around chairs that kept threatening to get in his way. He took a sharp swerve to the right and slammed directly into someone's leg, leading to Jason tagging him with a hug around his shoulders.
Jake didn't notice. He was too busy staring upward at who he bumped into, mouth slightly agape in awe.
Large green eyes like a cat's glanced down at the twins, one eyebrow raised in mild confusion, owned by a giant of a woman in military finery that matched those of several others mingling about the event. Jake thought she looked like a brave knight from a fairy tale, already forming a wild adventure in his mind of how she was a elf princess in disguise and had run away from the fae court to fight the great threat in this world. Of course, she would have to be assigned to his dad's unit, and they'd work together to make sure the bad guys were defeated and they both got back home, her to the world of fairies and Dad back to him and Jason and Mom.
Jason squeezed Jake's shoulders protectively, also staring up at this statuesque soldier, not wanting to play anymore and unable to speak in her presence. Instead, Jake said what both of them were thinking. “WOW! You're really tall!!” he chirped with an excited smile.
Before any more damage could be done, their father suddenly appeared, harried and overwhelmed in his dress uniform, and grabbed both boys by the hand. “Jacob Eric, Jason Elias, what did I say about being on our best behavior tonight?” He looked up apologetically at the woman the twins had bothered, who was even taller than he was. An impressive feat to a little boy, since Dad was the tallest person he could think of. “I'm so sorry. Kids, you know? Heh...”
The young woman laughed it off with a firm, friendly slap on their father's back. “Nah, it's fine. No harm, no foul.” Those odd green eyes looked down at the two boys with an amused smirk as she knelt down to their level on one knee. Jason hid behind their dad. Jacob continued to stare. “I am pretty tall, huh? But you know, if you're real good and eat all your vegetables, and listen to your dad here, you'll probably grow to be almost as tall as me.”
Jake gasped with excitement, his eyes lighting up. “Really? You really think so? I've never been that tall before!”
“Then how about a test run, what do you say?” The soldier grinned and lifted Jake up to rest upon her arm, holding the brunt of his weight with just one bicep. “Think you'd like being this high up all the time?”*** He stared blankly at those catlike eyes for a long time as she introduced herself and explained who she was. Unexpectedly, even for him, Nevermore chuckled lightly. “Hellhound. You're called...Hellhound.” A half grin weakly emerged, a silent huff of another laugh. “Of all the demons...devils...and infernal monsters...of course the universe saw fit to put Hellhound on my trail.” Immediately, he realized what he had drunkenly revealed without thinking, and switched the topic to answer her question instead. Hopefully she'd just view that as a mere turn of phrase, strange as it might have been in her context. “Well for one, we're actively being hunted. Those that are taken are...rarely taken quietly. And when they are, no one ever hears from them again. Hellhound, these aren't just...you know, vagrants that are far from home. I'm talking people who have always been here, who have friends, families who have no idea where they are or what's happened to them. I've heard...lots of theories. Several...concerns. That we're being sold at the black market. That we're sent to facilities where they cut us open to find out how we work. One friend...” Jake bit his lip and lowered his gaze from Raz to the floor, eyes narrowed as he thought of that look of absolute hopelessness on Kris. “...one friend managed to escape. Some sort of camp or base. And she was forced to...” he grit his teeth, his heart aching as he closed his eyes tight, his voice raising in volume. “...she was forced to use her powers to help round up other neos...tortured her until she obeyed! Who the hell in their right mind would risk being dragged into that?! Anyone would hide! Anyone would stay quiet!”Rage and despair tangled his lungs and throat, seething between his teeth before looking back up at Raz, tiny flickers of violet flashing off his hair and cloak. His distressed expression softened slightly, taking in and letting out several long breaths of air to calm himself, though he continued shivering in his bonds. “My father...was a soldier like you. And you talk a big game, Hellhound, but this is not the type of America that he fought and died for. And you shouldn't either.”Raz
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"Polite, professional -- but f**k with me and I'll kill you."
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Post by Raz on Jun 17, 2018 3:34:53 GMT
For a moment, Raz worried he might pass out again, but he wheezed, head lolling, and managed to somewhat focus on her. His words, though meant kindly and not snapped defensively, were kind -- but also wrong. There were no humans like her. She belonged in that long gray area of 'human enough.' Though she'd had a surrogate mother, her DNA had been sourced from all over the globe and when she died, there'd be no one else like her. No name to be carried on, no memories, nothing. Nothing outside of her codename and mission reports. The thought made her shiver at the sudden plunge her stomach took and she counted the seconds until the inexplicable fear faded away. Fear always felt cold and she didn't know why. Thankfully, Nevermore didn't seem to notice too much, seemingly spaced out in his own world for a second, before laughing hollowly. Her brow furrowed as he chuckled about demons, devils and infernal monsters. Was that supposed to be some kind of insult? She'd been called a lot of things by less-than intelligent people, but never seemed to have any connection to her name. Maybe some sort of metaphor? In any case, words hurt as much as falling feathers. She stared at him impassively as he stumbled over his tongue, waiting for an answer to her questions. And when the answers came... she had thought herself ready. She really should stop making that mistake. Raz leaned in, eyes intent on him as he spoke, staring as though she might snatch the next words out of his mouth if she could. The corner of her mouth twitched as the use of 'hunted' but could she really disagree? Ever since the rifts started opening, the largest manhunt history had ever known started. They lived in a time of utter turmoil, shifting demographics, ways of life and even reality slipping about like a lopsided dancer on a strange stage. But she didn't interrupt, just let him speak. Her frown sharpened abruptly at the mention of families having no idea where their loved ones had gone. That did not fit with what she'd been told. Families were always to be notified, even had visiting rights after a set period of time. This isn't right.What came confirmed every nightmare had come true. Raz stopped breathing, the words 'tortured' and 'forced to use her powers' ringing over and over. It shocked her beyond speech. Rage lit dark fire in her eyes, and all she could see in that moment was a blue-haired girl, looking young and lost and asking for help. Tortured.She'd let that girl go back to some tortured hell and God only knows what they'd done to her. Brainwashing. By her own f**king government, no less. After what they'd done... after what she'd seen-- "Boomer, the hell are you doing!? It's me, Raz! Your sister! Stop -- fighting -- me! Goddammit!"
He didn't hear. Her brother just came at her again, vicious, relentless. When she'd struck this safehouse, she'd been expecting to find the next link, the newest piece of filth that had dared to capture her brother. Instead, she found her little brother, scarred up, violent, and not recognizing her at all. She barely managed to kick the gun from his hand and since then, they'd been trading blow for blow.
She flipped the trashy coffee table at him. He blocked, letting it shatter on the meaty bulwark of his shoulder. Her fist came in right on top of it, not giving up, not relenting. He stumbled, grabbed her foot and it forced her to leap off the ground, spinning, to twist her ankle free before he could do what he pleased with it.
"Boomer, wake up! I'm not your enemy!"
She shouldn't have wasted time shouting. It just allowed him to get his arms around her and start squeezing. She couldn't breathe. They were locked in a deadly embrace, her free hand going for her combat knife tucked into her belt sheathe and trying to ignore the creaking of her ribcage.
The whole time he looked at her with those dead, blank eyes. This was her brother, but they had scraped him out and left a shell behind.Raz came back breathing hard and standing a few feet away. She didn't remember backing away. Goddamn flashbacks. Goddamn f**king liars, and traitors. She'd been used to deliver people to brainwashing facilities, torture and god knows what else. In that moment, Raz felt the barbed wire of pure, unbridled rage and hate wrap around her heart and she knew rest would be a long ways away. Her lips curled back into a barely leashed, silent snarl, fists shaking with rage. The tranq gun wasn't in her hands anymore, lying forgotten on the floor beside Nevermore. Her entire body trembled with fury as her stomach roiled with disgust. She swallowed against the raising gorge, stuffed the guilt back down and focused on the anger instead. Anger can be used, honed into a perfect weapon. Raz looked anywhere but at Nevermore. He couldn't see the fury there. He wouldn't understand the guilt written on her face. "Sonofa..." It came out as little more than a harsh hiss. Then, without warning, her vision blanked. Sensing more than seeing, her body pivoted on heel and a short roar bellowed from her as her fist drove into the wall. Pieces of concrete brick exploded into the other room, a hole the size of a serving tray blown into the wall. "f**k!"
Raz stopped, reigning herself in, her breath coming harsh and fast. Her fists clenched hard enough to make her muscles ache. The pain brought her back. It always brought her back. She looked down at her hands, slowly opening them. They were shaking despite the armor. Her hands, the hands of a sniper, a soldier, a sister. Covered in innocent blood. They had used her, perverted everything she stood for, everything she'd been made for. She blinked, just then realizing her face was wet with tears. Whether they came from the pain and guilt of a mission years past, or from the hollow, abandoned feeling of utter betrayal inside, she didn't know. "They betrayed me." Hissed through clenched teeth, Raz spoke to no one but herself. It took more effort than it should to give voice to that agonized truth. It took everything she had to not scream and keep on screaming, let it pour out of her like a war cry. Even then, it nearly came. Her control nearly broke. But she held. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, hands clenched and trembling. More hot, salty drops fell on her armor. It reminded her of her brother. It took her longer than she'd admit to compose herself. She refused to acknowledge Jake, eventually having to fall back on reciting favored passages from The Warrior's Mantra until she had regained some control of herself. Only when she finally found that cold, calm center again, did she speak to Jake. "No." Her voice had dropped four notes, into a lethal growl. "No, it isn't the America I was made for. It got... lost. I suspected but I never knew. I needed to know."And God, did it hurt to know. The rage came boiling up as quick as ever and she had to recite a mantra again, moving her lips silently to the words. In a cold, clinical voice she finally spoke. "I apologize for scaring you. I'm proud of what I am. But I'm not proud of everything I've done. I... I put some people in there, Nevermore. People I promised...." Once again, it came out on a furious hiss, and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I promised they would be safe. I've been made a liar. They made me everything I was meant to fight against. I'm sorry this was necessary. I'm not sorry for having my answers."Stiffly turning on heel, she walked over to him, letting the tranq gun lie on the floor. Once more she knelt beside him. "Is there anything else you can tell me about what you know?" The green of her irises stood out more brilliantly against the blood-shot sclera. Only this time, they were full of hollowed pain and a fury that writhed, needing to be released. "Are there any resistance groups, organized ones? Do you know how to contact them? What else have you seen come out of those--" her mouth twisted on the sour word, "Camps. Anything you can tell me. This is important. Who was this friend who broke out? How do I find her and which facility was she in? I need to know this so I know where to start hunting, Nevermore. Take your time. Tell me everything. Don't leave out a goddamn thing."She would need all of it for the war. Nevermore
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