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[Scars and Stories]

If you go down to the woods today,
You're sure of a big surprise.

Adeline and Eddie



Adeline Parke was having a typical night in Maple Ridge. Maple Ridge wasn’t exactly New York, it was a quiet little city where people trusted each other. It might not have been exciting, but it was a nice enough town, and she tolerated living here. Or at least she had until a few years ago. A few years ago though, things had started getting a bit... weird. People had just started vanishing for lack of a better word. Some people said that it was because of some sort of group, like a mafia sort of people. But her mother had always told her that that was just a big load of gossip started by people with nothing better to do with themselves. But I’m getting off topic. We enter the scent to find two teenaged girls and with a rusty old car parked on the side of the road before an old metal sign that proclaimed to anyone (unlucky enough to be) entering the town:

”Welcome to Maple Ridge
Home of the fighting Beavers!
Population 1,333,300. Est”

”Addy, remind me again what we are doing out here in the ******** woods with stencils in the dark, completely sober and most importantly without flashlights?” Adeline’s best friend Sara called from where she sat on the hood of her beat up car, swinging her legs against it and enjoying the rhythmic clunking pattern the sound made.

”Well Sara-bear, for one thing we are not in the woods, we’re at the edge of town. See, town, lights, just over there? Two we are sober because drinking is gross and makes you act all slutty and messy. And finally; three we are without flashlights because we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. And besides, these aren’t stencils, this is an exact replica of the Welcome to Maple Ridge sign, albeit with a few significant changes. But honestly, I think we’ve improved it.”

”Whatever, chuck me a cigarette and alert me when we’re done.” With those few dismissive words Sara lay back against the hood so that she could stare up at the stars. Addy was always taking her on these crazy projects, and that was fine with her. But honestly she’d be just as happy sitting around getting high and playing guitar. Well more likely Sara would get high and Addy would play guitar for her, but the basic concept was the same. Addy for her part just snorted, pulled the half empty pack of tobacco out of her jeans pocket, chucked it onto Sara’s belly and got to work. An hour or so later she stepped back from the new version of the maple ridge sign that now read;

”Welcome to Maple Ridge
Home of the frightened dinosaurs!
Population dwindling.”

”So what do you think of my art Sara?” Addy asked with a little grin spreading across her face as she looked over at the girl now blissfully smoking and ignoring her. ”Sara come on, look! Sara pushed herself up off of the hood and stared at the new sign.

”I get the population dwindling bit, but what’s with the frightened dinosaurs?”

”Mostly the idea just made me laugh. Come on Sweet-pea, it’s after midnight. Let’s get you home before Helen starts to worry.”

”Dude you know I think it’s weird when you call my mom by her first name.”

They continued bickering as they got into the car and drove off, completely and utterly unaware that someone was watching them, had been watching them for weeks. So they drove home in relative peace, listening to The Horrors and growling along to the words they thought they knew, Addy rolling herself a cigarette and pushing the stuck window down so that she could smoke it, the both of them stoically ignoring the bitter chill of the winter air.

Pulling into the driveway of Sara’s house, they both got out of the car and gave each other a quick hug before Addy set off towards her own house. It was so close to Sara’s that it was hardly worth getting her to drive to it, so Addy usually just preferred to walk. But tonight, she would regret her decision. Taking a long drag of her smoke and sucking the very last few puffs in, she walked quickly, dropping the butt into the gutter and shoving her hands into her pockets. She was concentrating hard on getting herself home, so when she heard a voice calling out to her, to say she was startled would be an understatement.

”Hey. Hey Addy wait up!”

It was Eddie Vreeland, Adeline hadn’t seen him in weeks. She’d heard he’d disappeared like so many other people had, just up and gone one day without anyone having an idea where he could have gone. She actually hadn’t given it that much thought, he’d been a few years ahead of her in school, and even though they sort of hung out in similar circles, they weren’t anything close to friends. But still, it was always nice to see that someone wasn’t dead. ”Hi Eddie, I heard you’d disappeared. Where’d you go?”

He looked nervous, despite the cold weather there was sweat beading on his brow and he was wringing his hands together like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world than standing on the street talking to Addy. That hurt her pride a little. She smiled softly, trying to project that calm warmth that her mother had always seemed to radiate. The one Adeline had never quite managed to properly replicate, she realised a moment later.

”Oh you know, I got sort of recruited for this new job.” He finally replied, after letting the silence stretch on just a little too long for it to be comfortable. She thought she heard a noise, like a crunching kind of sound behind her for a second, but then shook her head. She was fine, even if something bad was out there lurking in the shadow’s, she had Eddie here. He’d protect her, right?

”Wow that’s great Eddie, what’s the job?” She shoved her hands a little deeper into her pockets as she asked the question, not wanting to appear rude but still absolutely freezing cold. He laughed nervously, letting it trail off as he looked at her. Well actually it was the strangest thing, she suddenly realised. This whole conversation he’d been staring just past her ear instead of looking her in the eyes.

”I guess I’m sort of in Customer Service work now. So I’m doing lots of different thing, you know, trying to make clients happy. Funny story actually, I wasn’t even supposed to be working for them but well... you don’t care about that. I’m still sort of in training though, so I’m just doing little things. No heading up projects on my own yet. I just do the footwork. For example right now I’m keeping you distracted while they sneak up behind you.”

As he spoke she wondered how rude it would be to interrupt him and say that it was really just a courtesy question, not one that required fifteen minutes of nervous chatter, and then something that he’d said suddenly sunk in.

”Wait, what do you mean keeping me –“

And then there was a blinding flash of pain in her back, and she fell, convulsing, into the darkness.

”That was very good work Edward. I’m almost glad that you weren’t processed by the cleaners after all.”

The unremarkable, bespectacled man who’d caught her just before she’d hit the ground threw the taser that he’d used to knock her out with back to Eddie and nodded at him to pick up her legs. Between the two of them they loaded her into the back of the grey sedan they’d followed her in, strapping her arms and legs together should she awaken, and then silently the two made the drive back to The Organization. Eddie suspected that it had another name than that, but he apparently wasn’t eligible to find out what it was yet. And that suited him just fine, as far as he was aware. The less time he spent tangled up in this establishment the better as far as he was concerned.

The apartment building that they soon found themselves parked beneath, like the man and the car, was unremarkable. You wouldn’t guess that it housed a thriving slave trade business inside those walls. Hell Eddie had walked past it himself a thousand times without every suspecting a thing. Then again an “elite search and retrieval business” as everyone within the organization seemed to describe it, didn’t seem like the most likely conclusion to jump to in a place like Maple Ridge. A team of catcher’s was waiting at the unloading dock to handle the new arrival, and himself personally? He had to go and throw up.

He’d held it together for this long, but as soon as they’d handed Adeline off to the catchers, he ran off to the closest bathroom. His whole body was wracked with shakes as he unloaded the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. ********. [********] How had he gotten himself into this situation? He slid his hands down the charcoal pants covering his thighs, and then let his body follow a similar path until he was crouched on the floor, back pressed against the wall while he breathed deep. Okay he could do this, he just had to stick this out until he could figure out how to leave without being caught and processed. Processed was just a fancy name for being killed, they had fancy names for everything here.

So with that thought of leaving firmly in his mind, he stood. He just had to get through this, pretend to be one of them, and then leave. So for now he had to get it together. Once he’d pulled himself together he forced himself out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Like he’d told Adeline, he was still in training, and he was late.

[Scars and Stories]

x x x x x x x x


My lady's presence makes the roses red, because to see her lips they blush for shame.

Rose raised an eyebrow, trying to supress a grin as Scorpious came in and outted the nurse as wanting to autograph for herself. Rose had never understood why some people felt the need to pretend that when they wanted autographs for a younger niece or nephew, as if it was shameful for a grown up to admire someone. Tabitha, as Rose guessed her name was gave Rose a sheepish smile, not seeming particularly embarrassed to be caught out in her lie. Rose smiled back at her, flickering her gaze to Scorpious who seemed busy checking out her chart. She wondered what it was telling him, in one of her previous stays at St Mungo’s her and James had spent hours cracking up together trying to understand the incomprehensible chart that was apparently written in some kind of code so that no one could read it. Or at least that’s what she assumed by the shifting page full of letters and numbers. But apparently Scorpious could understand it, he had that very serious face he’d always made when he was concentrating on something.

Rose quickly scribbled her signature on the parchment along with a little picture of herself waving from a broom and then handed it back to Tabitha. "Don't mind this one. He's always this annoying in the morning," she said as she took it, clearly very friendly with Scorpious. Rose wondered if perhaps the two were seeing each other, they certainly seemed very comfortable with one another, teasing and being very playful. She found herself growing vaguely annoyed at the familiarity they were displaying; it was hardly professional was it? It was unreasonable for her to get annoyed about it, yes, but still she was. Rose wouldn’t have believed that Scorpious would fall for someone who seemed so much like herself, or that he’d flaunt it like this in front of her, but then again Rose sometimes felt that she’d never really known him and that his entire personality was one big enigma to her.

As Tabitha left the room, cuffing the back of his head in the same way as Rose had so many times when they were young, Rose watched Scorpious try to avoid her gaze with some amusement. As if he had any reason to feel uncomfortable around her; she was the one who was a ‘dirty half-blood, blood traitor’ not him. Perhaps she should remind him of that, Rose thought, her previous smile settling into a grim frown as she continued to watch him study the chart before he finally could force himself to look at her. She wondered if it was hard for him to do so without feeling disgusted, she could remember the vehemence of his voice when she’d overheard him saying that awful thing about her. It still hurt to think about it and Rose found herself swallowing heavily as she willed back the hot tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes. She was able to blink them back and finally settled into watching him with a carefully blank expression as she’d become used to doing around him.

She watched in delight as the squeaky wheelchair rolled itself forward and lifted itself up to her bed so that she could shuffle in. Although seeing inanimate objects come to life was a fairly commonplace event in the wizarding world, her mother had always been extremely stringent about not using magic purely for magic’s sake at home, so it still gave her a naughty, illicit thrill to see it happening. Now that Scorpious mentioned her ribs, Rose realised they were much less sore than they’d been the day before. As she pushed herself up and shuffled her butt closer to the wheelchair so she could manoeuvre herself into it, a small twinge near her navel reminded her that they were still, as he said, a little delicate. If her previous injuries were anything to go by they’d still be sensitive to touch for a few more days yet. But she couldn’t complain. Apparently in the muggle world you just had to live with your broken ribs, they couldn’t heal them – and apparently healing them naturally took weeks or even months. Although Rose had never experienced it herself, her mum had lectured her with those kind of horror stories ever since the first time she’d taken a tumble off her broom trying to chase Lilly around the garden.

Though they’d taken the brace off her leg, judging from the throbbing pain that felt like a hot firebrand pulsing through her hip, it wasn’t healed yet. And yet, despite that she was feeling a little better than the previous day. She was careful with her leg, trying to keep it as still as possible as she slid her bottom backwards into the wheelchair. As she did so, Rose belatedly realised that someone had taken the time to dress her in different clothes while she’d been unconscious. The soft black shorts and long sleeved white thermal were familiar, her normal pyjama’s, and Rose was grateful to whoever had taken the time to retrieve them for her from her apartment. It was a vast improvement on the hospital gown with its unflattering, gaping back, even if the shorts were a little shorter than she was comfortable being seen in in public.

The wheelchair settled itself back onto the ground, autonomously lifting the strut on the leg so that she was forced to keep the limb elevated. She tried not to look at the thick swaddling cast wrapped around the pale limb, nor think of the gruesome bruising in a mirage of black, purple and green that marred her thigh, speaking to the serious nature of her fall, but it was strangely mesmerising and she found herself experimentally poking at one of the bruises – instantly regretting it as a small whimper of pain escaped from her mouth.

”The main therapy room is fine Mr Malfoy,” she replied, deciding that if he wanted to be formal and use last names – she would be so haughtily formal that his head would spin. “I imagine you wouldn’t want to be seen going into a private room with someone like it, it might tarnish your status.” she continued, refusing to turn back and look at him. She shook her head silently when he asked if there was anything she wanted and so they began to walk slowly towards the therapy room. Well Scorpious walked, she sat with arms crossed against her chest as the wheelchair wheeled itself, apparently knowing where to take her. Rose scanned the hallways as they moved, taking note of the pale white walls and faint scent of disinfectant. A few healers nodded or smiled in recognition at Scorpious as they went past, and Rose waved at a small girl pointing excitedly from her mother’s arms at her. The small girl who couldn’t have been more than six had her arm in a sling, and as Rose wheeled past her she couldn’t help but laugh softly to hear the girl tell her mother that ‘Rose Weasley had a boo-boo too!’

As they pushed through the doors to the main physical therapy room - the wheelchair came to a stop, pulling up besides Scorpious as it waited for further instructions. She sighed softly, turning to face Scorpious. It irked her to be out of control like this, Rose hated feeling helpless, and she especially hated feeling like she owed anyone for their help. And now here she was, completely reliant on the one person she’d hoped never to have to owe a favour to again. “Well?” she saked, a single eyebrow quirking sarcastically.

[Scars and Stories]

Brigid
Anger is like fire. It burns its host clean.

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Brigid was having a nightmare. Tossing and turning in the thick nest of blankets that she called a bed, the only sound was a soft whimpering; more the sound a caged animal would make than anything close to speech. With each second that passed, the faint glow surrounding the girl grew brighter, shining a brilliant white. As she grew visibly more distressed - the faint whimpers blending seamlessly into a desperate moaning coupled with gut wrenching sobs - the light darkened, almost imperceptibly blending to gold and then umber, orange and dark red: until finally... Brigid set herself alight.

She awoke with a gasp, rolling out of her blankets in a cacophony of foul mouthed curses as her warm body hit hard concrete. Still alight, Brigid grasped at the bucket she kept near her bed at all times or this very reason. She willed the flames off of her hand, taking deep and gasping breaths as she tried to calm herself enough to push the energy back inside her veins. One hand went out, the flame was only just barely doused when she took hold of the bucket and threw the water over the smouldering pile of blankets. Satisfied when she heard a wet sizzle that the blankets were safe for now, Brigid could concentrate on putting herself out.

Pushing herself to the ground, first making sure she wasn't close enough to any of the few possessions she owned that were flammable for them to catch, Brigid folded herself into a meditative pose; for her that meant flat on her back, hands at her side. She took a deep breath, sucking in sweet country air and tried to focus herself on the present. She wasn't in that facility anymore, the creatures weren't cutting at her to try and find where the flames came from. They were dead, everyone was dead. They were nothing but bones and dust now, crumbled and forgotten. The idea gave her some comfort - no matter what her life was now, at least her life was her own.

After twenty or so minutes forcibly calming herself, Brigid finally went out. She wasn't sure how to describe it to someone who hadn't experienced it, but it was as if her body grew so agitated, so angry and desperately unhappy that it couldn't contain all the feelings and had to let them physically manifest. Being able to shoot fire at someone might have seemed a neat weapon, but by the time she was upset enough to summon it, Brigid was usually too much of a mess to have any direction over where it went.

Though a last, lingering flame clung to her pinky finger, Brigid pulled herself up to sit upright. She would have to hang her blankets out to dry, fetch more water and then go see Armaude about some new clothes. She sighed, not looking forward to whatever price he would ask for the service today, but she needed clothes, even if it was just the illusion of them. But she had little in the way of choice. Yesterday something had eaten the lettuces she'd been growing from seedlings down to their stumps and she'd been so enraged that she'd caught fire and her last unsinged shirt had burnt away to nothing. Brigid was proud of the little garden growing around her shelter: it wasn't huge, cabbages, lettuce and a few other wild plants she'd scavenged from rubbled houses, but it was the first thing she had ever been able to grow herself, and she mourned her poor lettuces loss.

She stood, brushing a few embers off of her naked chest, Brigid smiled ruefully that at least since she’d stopped wearing clothes to sleep in it had cut down significantly on the time she had to spend in Armaudes… frankly terrifying abode. She never knew what was real and what was just an illusion; or when she would turn and be face to face with a creatures skull grinning back at her. When he looked at her Brigid was reminded of how a spider looks at a fly caught in its web. With anyone else, she might have thought it was kind of Armaude to use his powers to keep her decent – but with him she knew it was anything but kindness. She had a feeling that he was getting the better end of the deal – she provided him with twenty four hour on call entertainment and he got to play with her clothes, dressing her up like a little doll.

Delaying the inevitable, Brigid first tended to her chores. Her house was a few simple rooms, pulled together from billboards and metal scaffolding, mostly empty of possessions. She didn’t keep anything precious close to where she slept, scared it would burn in the night. Padding over to her small stack of clothing, she chose a pair of small white shorts that left her legs bare and a black bra. As far as Brigid was concerned the least clothes she wore, the less likely she was to burn them when she got angry.

First she hung out her mess of blankets on a rope she kept hung between her house and a nearby tree to use as a washing line. As she did so, she examined the damage and sighed softly to herself. It wasn’t so bad, two were blackened around the edge and one had a new hole in the middle of it, but she’d done worse before. If only she could learn to control herself better, or learn a way to kept the world around her burning while she did. Such thoughts were too hard so early in the morning when the sun wasn’t even warm yet. After that she picked her way towards the lake to replenish her water. She held a bucket in the crook of each arm as she slowly walked, keeping an eye out for any sign of the others. It was unlikely she would see any of the perfects on this side of the lake, but she wouldn’t take any chances.

At the lake Brigid stepped her feet into the cool water, sighing with relief at the cool water. She crouched down, splashing the water over her pale arms and washing the night’s sleep off of her face. It was shockingly cold, but Brigid liked it, she was warm blooded so it was a rare treat to feel properly cool. She knew she was procrastinating, but still took the time to wash herself, dipping her head under the water and brushing the tangles out of her long, white hair. After she was thoroughly clean, she knew that the time had come to stop postponing the inevitable. She filled her buckets quickly, groaning slightly under the weight of the water as she carefully carried them back to her home. Two buckets was enough for one day usually - one for by her bed in case of fire and one to use as drinking water.

Once that was settled, Brigid sighed, taking her neatly folded stack of clothing in hand and holding it to her chest. She walked slowly, annoyed at herself for the fear she felt as she crossed over towards the side of the lake where The Perfects had made their home. When felt the bundle against her chest start to heat up, Brigid looked down at herself alarmed. Sure enough, the faint glow that surrounded her was growing. She stopped; forcing her eyes shut and took a soothing breath. She didn’t move again until she was calm, until she could almost believe the lie that The Perfects didn’t want to hurt her. Too soon there it was. She approached Armaude’s house quietly, her darting eyes constantly scanning around her for signs of movement. It was still early enough to be quiet, but Brigid hoped it would be late enough that he wouldn’t still be sleeping. Her stomach rumbled softly, reminding her that she’d not eaten yet. There would be time enough for that later.

She knocked on his door once, twice, and then stood back to wait. He would answer it in his own sweet time, Brigid knew better than to try and rush him. Letting her eyes flutter shut, Brigid slowly began to hum to herself, a soft lilting tune that whispered of woodland birds and harps, a soft flute sound echoing in the background. The sound was relaxing and she swayed softly from side to side in time to it, falling nearly into a trance. Her body itched to dance, but she held it mostly still, not wanting to miss Armaude when he deigned to let her in. As she hummed, the light seemed to drain from her thin limbs until it was nearly gone. Peace, however brief, was bliss.

[Scars and Stories]

Teke Taane

“I still don’t get why your mom would nickname you something that meant... that.”

“Does it matter Chrissy? It’s not like anyone in flippin’ Arizona is going to hear it and think ‘Gasp! That word means c**t!’”

"Teke I can’t believe you just said that!”

“Guess what? You just said it too. Just ‘cause it’s in another language doesn’t mean it don’t count.”

Teke (or Travis, as was his real name) laughed as his girlfriend, the aforementioned Chrissy, slapped him on the arm and frowned at him. He draped an arm over her shoulders and dropped a kiss on her forehead. There were moments like this when he remembered exactly why he’d fallen for her in the first place. She was so cute when she put on her serious face and pouted at him. The fact that his mother had given him such a dirty name as a nickname was a constant source of puzzlement to her, but that was just the sort of woman Teke’s mother was; a little crazy, a little eccentric.

When he’d asked about how he’d gotten the nickname, his mother had simply replied ‘you were being a little s**t one day and it just slipped out. Then it just stuck.’ That was how his mother was, she was always slipping odd maori phrases and words into her sentences. Considering Teke had never actually been to New Zealand (his mom’s home country) it was pretty much the only Maori he ever heard. Chrissy loved visiting his mom’s house; she said it was like walking into Lord of the Rings. It wasn’t even as if his mom was actually Maori, she was white as snow. His parents had gotten their swirl on, good for them. It’s not their fault that he’s a freak half-breed because of it. But yeah... Teke honestly sometimes thought that Chrissy expected a hobbit to pop out of the closet.

Okay so she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box but... well she was freaking hot. And had a lot of other good qualities, of course. He wouldn’t date her just because she was hot. She was very nice to him, and she didn’t ask him a lot of hard questions, and apparently she liked him too, which was more than some of the girls he’d met. ’That’s why you’ve been dating her for a year now?’ a cynical voice in his head questioned. ’Because she’s nice to you? And because she doesn’t ask you hard questions? Pathetic.’

“Come on babe, I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh no Teke, look! It’s a street fair or something, lets go check it out! Please?”

It was their one year anniversary and Teke had taken Chrissy out to dinner, and then for a walk around the city. They’d just come across a fairly pathetic looking street fair, a few lights and stalls set up roughly, there didn’t seem to be anyone patronising any of them.

“Babe come on, it’s empty as, it’s probably a con or something.”

Teke frowned as he pulled Chrissy forward, the arm that was still wrapped around her shoulder pulling her a little tighter. Even if he’d been having doubts about their relationship, it wasn’t like he wanted her to die or anything. ’Though if she did... that would really make breaking up with her easier....okay I am horrible. Taane, party of one? Your table in Hell awaits.’

“Come on, please? You can win me a teddy bear... that’ll be fun for you.”

She smiled up at him, looking all hopeful like he was going to break her heart if he said no. Her dark eyes shone up at him, confident that he was going to give in to her, he always did. He looked around at the stalls searching for something that he could win easily to get them out of here. They all seemed pretty pathetic to Teke, but at last he saw a shooting range at the very end of the chain of stalls.

“Alright babe, I will shoot the hell out of a tin duck for you. See how much I love you? I’m willing to put aside my very strong feelings about animal rights just for you.”

He grinned as he spoke, guiding them both towards the booth. Chrissy laughed, the sound reverberating though the stalls. She knew that he didn’t give a hell about animal rights; he went hunting with his dad whenever he got the chance. Picking up the dented, crap gun in his hands, he quickly shot off six shots, each one bringing down a dented yellow duck. The girl manning the store handed him a stuffed bear about the size of his hand, which he quickly palmed off to Chrissy. As she was giggling and grinning over it, the girl at the stall motioned to him with a quiet ‘psst’ and handed him a bit of paper. He looked down and read the words: To the End of the Rainbow. Admit One. He frowned slightly as he read over the words again, quickly shoving the piece of paper into his pocket as he took Chrissy’s hand in his and pulled her away, vowing to throw the weird bit of paper out before he went to bed.

"Come on good looking, I’m taking you home...”

[ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ]

The first thing that Teke noticed was off was that he was alone. Usually when he woke up it was to either his girlfriend or his dog, licking his face till he woke up. Usually if he awoke to someone licking his face it was his dog, not Chrissy, although there had been that one time... He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily as he adjusted to the morning light. He yawned once, showing his long pink tongue and stretching out. Eyes still hazy from sleep he rubbed them, brushing the sleep out of his eyes.

Hang on, something was wrong. He looked around the room, suddenly completely awake. This was not his bedroom. This was not anyone he knows bedroom. This was... not good. It was a large, empty room with a single bed that he was currently lying in, and other than that there was a long, stand alone mirror propped up in the corner. Everything had a vague film of dust over it as if nothing had been used for a long time. ’Well nothing good can come from this,’ he thought as he looked around the empty room. His first thought was that he must have been dreaming, but he quickly dismissed that and started looking for other options. Kidnapped? But who the hell would want to kidnap him? His parents were well off but it’s not exactly like they were millionaires.

Deciding he’d better investigate further, he eased himself out of the bed, wincing slightly as the springs creaked and groaned in protest at having to support his weight. The silence of his room only magnified the sounds of his feet padding across the room towards the door. ’Now the question is... do I go in or out? If this is a horror movie, lets face it, the black guy always dies first.” He was fully dressed which was... a bit weird, considering he’d gone to sleep naked.

He was in the same clothes as he’d been wearing last night, loose black jeans, a white shirt and a thin black tie hung loose around his neck. Patting down his pockets he found he still had his wallet and cigarettes, but everything else was gone. Definitely weird. Pulling open the door (apparently like everything else in this place, it squeaked too), he found himself in a long hallway with many other doors. Checking into one or two of them, he found that they were rooms similar to the one he’d found himself in but they were all empty.

Wandering down the hallway, he heard some voices coming from somewhere. Following them he was led to a large room full of boys. Had they been the ones to kidnap him? He’d decided by this point he must definitely have been kidnapped, even if he couldn’t figure out a reason why. “Okay, where am I and why did you guys bring me here?” he asked the room. It had come out a little more confrontational than he’d expected it to, but hey, in a situation like this if he could come off as intimidating then that frankly could only help him out. It didn’t even for a moment occur to him that the other boys in the room might be in the same situation as he was, that they’d have as little clue as him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he frowned around the room. He was, of course, the only black guy there. ”Oh good, I’m the token black guy. I am so dying first. Oh yeah cool... lets have two hundred years of slavery and then when that ends, lets make sure that in every horror movie ever the black guy dies first as a warning to the wonder bread that something bad is afoot.’ Deciding that if there had ever been a time to stress-smoke, it was now, Teke pulled out a pack of his favourite Benson & Hedges, sliding one between his lips and flicking open his gold zippo. Ahhh that was better, he could practically feel the smoky goodness flowing through his body and calming him down (if only slightly).

[Scars and Stories]

그들이 당신을 얻기 것을 밖으로 진짜로 위한 것인 경우에 망상광이 아니다.



Jung-Ai - the human A-Bomb

Jung-Ai (or June if we were going to use her English name) stood naked in her bathroom. She’d just gotten out of the shower and was currently staring at herself in the steam covered mirror as she vigorously rubbed her body dry with a soft white towel. Wrapping said towel around her body to walk from the bathroom to her room (though why she bothered she wasn’t sure, almost everyone she knew who knew about her powers had seen her naked after she’d self-detonated), Jung listened out for sounds of other people stirring in the large house that she shared. She heard no one so she continued on into her room, dropping the towel on the floor by the door and padding quietly to her closet. Cocking her head to the side as she picked out today’s clothes, Jung thought of the fair today. It was going to end in her exploding, she knew with a certainty. That was one of the perks of precognition, you knew almost everything that was going to happen in the future with complete certainty. It was going to rain as well, but not until later on that night when everyone would be tucked up safe at home. Well almost everyone.

With those thoughts in mind, Jung picked out a long cream t-shirt and some black tights. The t-shirt was old so it wouldn’t matter if it got ruined. Smoothing it down over her a**, Jung also picked out a leather jacket which she slung over her shoulders. She’d have to remember to take it off before anything happened, but she could already see herself handing it to Welcome so that wasn’t a worry. She checked herself out, grinning and blowing a kiss to herself in the mirror as she pulled the peace sign symbol. She grabbed a bag, stuffed full of food as usual (it took a lot of fuel to keep her going. Everyone who didn’t know her thought that one day she was going to wake up and weigh 300lbs) and pulled the t-shirt down so that it covered a little more of her thighs. It was a fine line between cute and slutty, but Jung was confident that she hadn’t crossed over into Whoresville.

Finally slipping her feet into a pair of moccasin boots, Jung quickly blow-dried her hair and then raced out the door to get to the fair. Running to the bus stop (she’d always prefer to run than walk anywhere, despite what her mother had always told her about nice girls not running), she sat down and pulled out a compact mirror, quickly making up her face as she waited for the bus. It was close enough that she could have ran if she’d wanted to, but there would be plenty of time to expel her energy later, no point wasting it now. Make-up finished, Jung pulled out a bag of her favourite pork rinds and began to eat. Mmmm salty, fatty deliciousness. Finishing them quickly, she threw the bag over her shoulder onto the ground and then pulled out a twinkie and a small bag of marshmallows. By the time the bus had come she’d finished both and was brushing herself off of crumbs as she stood.

Smiling prettily at the bus driver she sat in the closet free seat she could find and before long she was thanking the bus driver as she stepped off. Still hungry, Jung searched through her bag until she found an apple. Wondering how that’d gotten in there she tossed it into the crowd, giggling as she heard someone shout as it hit them. Jung wasn’t a mean girl necessarily, but she had a bit of a wicked streak she’d admit. There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, but not many. That was good, she wasn’t in a mood to pretend everything was happy and carefree as she’d have to if she saw someone she liked.

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As she walked, she saw in her mind that Welcome was about to run into those idiots who thought that if they were just nice to everyone, eventually everyone would love them. Idiots. Walking in that direction, she tried to ignore the sweet smells of the junk food being sold all around her. Later, she promised her stomach as it growled in protest at being ignored. All she’d had to eat today was three twinkies, two chocolate bars, half a cold pizza, four pieces of toast, a bag of marshmallows, pork rinds, and some cashew nuts. She was practically starving. Once she’d found welcome she’d go get a cheeseburger. And some candy floss. And an ice cream. Ohhh and maybe some fried dough as well.

Lost in her thoughts, before she knew it she’d arrived at the goodie-goods. Welcome wasn’t there so she must’ve finished with them and gone off to cause some trouble already. “Well look what we have here. Isn’t it such a lovely day? I’m feeling all... tingly with excitement. In fact... I’m so excited that I think... at any moment... I might... just...” As Jung spoke she held her hands up in front of her face, turning them back and forth in front of her. Suddenly they exploded. It was a quiet explosion, and few or none of the people milling around them noticed as the bloody stumps where her hands had once been dropped back to her waist. They grew back quickly, reforming as she giggled, ignoring the pain (there was always pain) that radiated through her arms as the bones miraculously formed and knitted into skin, muscle and cartilage. Once they’d reformed Jung grinned at the group, deciding to go find Welcome and maybe go have a repeat of that performance on a much larger scale.

”Well, it’s been fun but I better go... lots to do today and all. Have fun at the fair. Oh and love,” at this point she turned to the little red-head, Alice-Lenore Jung thought her name was, ”you’ve got a little.. something on your face.” The ‘something’ was in fact a little fleck of bloody skin, clinging lovingly to her cheek. Skipping off happily to find Welcome, Jung had soon caught up with her, stepping up behind her and covering the girls eyes with her hands. ”Hullo oh fearless leader, shall we go have some fun with the vermin?” As she spoke she dropped her hands, still tingling and a little raw from having remade themselves not too long ago, and came to walk besides the other girl. Her tummy was still grumbling, whinging that it was hungry and needed food. But she’d get to that later, her tummy could wait for her to go make a spectacle of herself.

[Scars and Stories]

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Jung Hye firmly believed that a good night’s sleep helps you perform well in school, and that as such it followed that if you are a student you should always get a good night’s sleep… unless of course you have come to the good part of your book, and then you should stay up all night and let your schoolwork fall by the wayside. She felt the same way about going to her classes. As a scholarship student she knew how important it was that she went to all of her classes… unless her teachers were stupid or tended to spend a lot of time asking students to read aloud in lieu of undertaking any actual teaching in which case it was better for her to spend her time more productively in independent study.

Although normally she was loathe to break rules, that twisted kind of logic made sense to her and as such she felt no (or close to no) guilt about missing her morning classes. She was a scholarship student; her time was best spent studying so that she could get good marks, surely? Sitting in class and listening to a teacher ramble on about the passionate love story of Anna Karenina (which they would apparently be studying) while trying to contain her sighs of disapproval was the antithesis of studying, in fact Jung Hye was having trouble understanding how anyone forced to go to classes all day had time to educate themselves at all. While sitting there, staring down at her neatly filed and painted nails she could feel her wit growing duller, her brain matter slowly but surely melting and if she had to hear one more girl giggle as she debated the merits of someone called Yu Seung Il versus another person apparently known as Kwang Min, she would scream.

Most schools have a loud system of loud bells, which startle the students and teachers at regular intervals and remind them that time is passing even more slowly than it seems, and apparently Seoul Private Academy was no different as a piercing shriek resonated through the air and released her from the class. Smiling softly in relief, Jung Hye picked up her books and nestled them in the crook of her arm. After that wasted hour, she needed to go somewhere quiet where she wouldn’t have to try to understand how anyone could believe Anna Karenina was a love story.

As she stood she shook her head to herself, not realising she was mumbling aloud until she noticed some… person staring at her curiously. “The central theme of Anna Karenina," she said, "is that a rural life of moral simplicity, despite its monotony, is the preferable personal narrative to a daring life of impulsive passion, which only leads to tragedy. It’s not about love. Obviously.” People were always looking at her curiously, which intrigued Jung Hye to no end. Why people in all their complexities and loud, bright movements found her strange when they were the ones who were always acting unpredictably and being… noisy was the biggest question of them all.

Exiting the classroom, she decided that rather than put herself through that kind of pain once more, and recognizing that first days were usually a waste, Jung Hye decided it would be best to take herself off to do some independent study for a few hours. Pushing her hand into the pocket of her black skirt as she attempted to navigate the hallway to find her lockers, she pulled her schedule out and confirmed to herself that she wouldn’t be missing anything. No, nothing important.

As she walked, Jung Hye took the time to observe the people milling around the halls. Young boys looking like they were barely out of their diapers, leaning against lockers as they tried to look tough while they pretended not to stare at the equally young girls all giggling and yelling as they skipped from room to room. Slightly older girls trying to affect cool, pretending they weren’t excited to be back with their friends and boys who looked more like men – too old to still be wearing backpacks, Jung Hye observed them all with a sense of cool detachment. These creatures were all so foreign to her, it was bizarre. She would fetch her books and go somewhere quiet.

The hallways were clearing now as students milled through classrooms and the doors closed behind them. She breathed a sigh of relief, turning down a hallway towards her locker, glad to be rid of people pushing and shoving at her at least for the time being. As she came to a halt a small part of her wondered what it must be like to be a part of that melee, but she shut down that part of her brain as quickly as the thought sprung up. It wasn’t worth wondering about problems that couldn’t be solved; she could expend her energy in better ways.

Twisting nimble fingers through the various numbers of her locker combination, Jung Hye contemplated where she might go that would be quiet. There was a lounge for scholarship students, but that ran the risk that there would be other scholarship students in it. Sliding the books still nestled in the crook of her arm into the locker, she flicked her fingers through the small library of books already contained within. She was halfway through The Life of Timon of Athens, but this morning it didn’t suit her mood so instead she pulled out a battered copy of Eugénie Grande as well as a large physics textbook so that she might practise her problems if she grew tired of reading.

Satisfied with her choices, Jung Hye slid the books into her satchel and took a moment to tuck her hair behind her ears before quietly shutting the door to her locker. As she did a boy came storming down the hallway, muttering angrily to himself and thrusting his hands into his hair. He hadn’t seen her obviously, Jung Hye wasn’t shocked by that, going unnoticed was often her preference to be honest. He seemed very angry at someone, and Jung Hye couldn’t help but pity not only the subject of his ire but the boy himself. She loathed seeing people upset, as she did most things she couldn’t understand purely by reading about them.

When he began taking his anger out on the wall, Jung Hye reluctantly decided to approach the boy, annoyed at herself for not simply taking the smart way out and running (or rather walking swiftly so as not to attract notice) from the scene. She took two steps towards the boy and cleared her throat quietly to attract his attention, though she wasn’t sure how much good it would do given how caught up in his anger he seemed to be. “If you align the first two knuckles in your hand with the bones in your forearm, you will be able to hit the wall with maximum effectiveness.” She commented with a small smile, recalling the month she’d spent devouring books about physical therapy for mixed martial arts practitioners. “Commonly people will lead with their ring or pinky knuckles, and will thus break their hands. That of course, will impede your ability to fight inanimate load-bearing structures in the future.”

[Scars and Stories]

“Get off, I’m bored. It’s like throwing a hot dog down a hallway.”

The girl scrambled off of his lap (a little too slowly, so he helped her with a swift backhand across the face) and Cain slumped down in his chair, idly pulling his boxers back over his d**k and buttoning his pants. These ******** humans. She lay at his feet now, all tears and dribbling blood caking on her body while she struggled to rearrange herself into someone that had something resembling dignity. He was suddenly filled with revulsion at this sloppy, saccharine race and wanted nothing to do with them. They were like puppies these humans. Cute for a little while but then you just wanted to bring the heel of your boot down on their head and crack! giggle at the carnage.

On that note, Cain made a mental note to go and find a puppy.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, which the girl assumed was aimed at her and visibly cowered, shrinking back from him as he stood and scuttling back into the shadows like a little fleshy crab.

“I’m sorry Cain, I’ll be better next time. Please, please you promised you wouldn’t hurt me anymore though and you said if I.. then you’d give me... please Cain I’m sorry ********, I’m sorry...”

Oh sweet Jesus Christ did they never shut up?

”You promised you wouldn’t hurt me anymore...” He mocked, advancing on the creature before him. She never learned. ”You’re a pathetic little fang-banger whore that no one except my d**k gives a s**t about. If I want to hurt you, and let me make it clear that I do want to hurt you then you’re going to let me. Isn’t that right?”

She broke out into outright tears, loud, wailing, wet little sobs that made him want to rip her eyes out. But she nodded, and Cain allowed her a little smile as a reward. He liked his little toys to know who they belonged to. He should really start branding them. Now there was an idea. The thought of his little nest of humans all branded with his name wasn’t a bad one, though to be honest there weren’t that many of them that he’d be proud to acknowledge as his. They were mostly street rats, whores, and teenagers who thought of him as a romantic fantasy archetype.

He gave them what they needed to get them hooked: drugs, sex, romantic lies.

And in return they let him eat their souls.

Retreating to the long white sofa that was flecked with a mixture of blood, sweat and semen, he sat down and shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them they were miraculously full of warmth and love for the poor cowering girl in the corner of the room.

”Sweetheart, I’m sorry for scaring you. I just get so angry when you upset me. But you know better than that now don’t you? And you’re going to be a good girl from now on aren’t you?”

She nodded eagerly, thrilled to be back in his good graces and completely willing (and accustomed) to take the blame. She was like an abused dog that still begged for its owner to pet it. He patted his lap and she practically ran over to him to sit on it, knowing what was coming. Pulling a rubber tube and a thin needle from his jacket pocket where he kept such things, he tied the tube around her thin wrist and tapped the side of the needle, bursting any air bubbles. The needle slid into the vein like a hot knife through a cold heart, despite the fact that the arm in question was completely covered in track marks. Seconds later, she went limp and a slack smile crossed her face. Heroin addicts.

He sat back and let her slide off of his lap back onto the floor that was strewn with bodies in a similar state. Some of them were on the drugs he fed them to keep them docile, some were unconscious, some were simply asleep, waiting for the swift kick to the ribs that would signal he was ready for them again. He believed that one of them might even be dead, judging from the wide berth the others cast around it.

If he was a king, then these were some ******** sorry looking subjects.

But Cain didn’t give a s**t, and he was perfectly happy (relatively speaking) to lay back and observe them, plotting what he would do to the puppy when he got around to getting one.

There would be blood.

And insidey bits on the outside.

Clapping his hands together in glee at the thought, he was suddenly interrupted by awful sounds below him on the street.

This would not do.

Standing and striding over to his window, he looked down the thirty or so stories that separated him from the ground with a scowl on his face. Ugh it was one of them, trying to eat a human. Messy things, otherworld creatures. He knew it would be done in approximately 17.3 seconds, but frankly Cain didn’t want to wait that long.

Smashing his fist through the window he stepped out into nothing and soon found himself landing heavily behind the creature who had its hands all over a rather pathetic looking boy. He rolled his eyes once and in the next millisecond had snapped the creatures head off, twisting until it had turned all the way around like it was possessed by a demon, and then pulling it off. He dropped the head and crushed it beneath his foot, dust spraying out around it. The body soon crumbled, the loss of a head not something that many creatures can survive, no matter how much they might claim to be immortal.

”Shut the ******** up. Some of us are trying to plot.” He said sternly to the prone, dead body on the alleyway floor. And then without another look at the boy, strode off out of the dark street.

******** selfish, making all that noise when he was having quiet time.