So this was going to be Brittney's life from now on is it? Stuck on an island in the middle of ******** nowhere full of other freaks that saw s**t that people shouldn't be seeing but ******** did anyway. At least Gale sounded normal enough and he wasn't doing things that pissed her off, like sugar coating his words or ******** dancing around the God damned subject.

Yeah sometimes the truth sucked donkey c**k but that was life and it was just better to go into things with your eyes open instead of pretending pretty pink unicorns that farted rainbows were going to come prancing in to whisk you away to some magical cotton candy tower in the ******** sky.

Brittney snorted and shook her head, focusing on what she was supposed to do now that she was "awake." It was apparently to find the weapon that would be bonded to her and guarantee her continued existence of not being a refrigerated vegetable.

Down the stairs she went, the soles of her flat shoes providing just enough traction that she wouldn't risk slipping and breaking her ******** neck like she was the clutziest doofus in the friggin' world. Damn this place needed to hire a better housekeeper because it was damp as ******** at the very bottom. Yeah, yeah, it was a cove and that meant water, Brittney didn't give a rat's a** she was still going to complain about it.

And speaking of complain, "Hey, weapon, wake up!" she yelled, hands on her hips expecting for what exactly? Was it like some sort of weird-a** role call thing that she was going to have to guess the name of her weapon? Was she supposed to sound off the kinds of weapons she knew? Which meant she was going to be ******** because she only knew a couple and nothing as specific as makes and models.

God damn it, this was dumb. The ******** did she sign up for? It didn't look or sound like she did the right thing in wanting to find Trisha. The memory of her best friend had her balling her fists in anger, and she clung to that rage because it was a much more familiar feeling than the helplessness.

No one would tell her anything or give her a straight answer. Everyone would just look away and act like Brittney was ******** five years old instead of someone old enough to go to university. Social media had no answers and no matter who she asked, there was no one who knew just what the ******** became of her best friend and losing Trisha all but sent Brittney into a spiral of self-destruction.

Sure she had other friends and sure they were supportive of her but they didn't get it. They didn't know about the shadows and what she saw. They wouldn't have believed her the way Trisha did and her parents (or her mom at least) had been so adamant she never speak of them. With that sort of pressure, Brittney was hard pressed not to assume the shadows had something to do with Trisha going missing.

But there was no proof. No evidence. And again, that helplessness began to creep in and Brittney slammed her fist against a column. The pain grounded her and would stave away the unwanted messy feelings she sure as ******** refused to deal ******** this. This was why Brittney needed to be around other people. It was her first time alone since getting up from that weird bed thing and she was losing it. How ******** pathetic was she? No! She was NOT pathetic, she was Brittney Zayles and she would kick the a** of anyone who ******** dared say she was weak.

GOOD! came a... not exactly a roar. No, it wasn't solid enough to be an actual roar. It was more like an echo of one.

Narrowing her eyes, the brunette tried to quiet her mind, the fury and outrage slowly ebbing away. She concentrated on the silence, hyper-alert for even the slightest of sounds. And that's when she noticed it. Noticed them. Those little plate thingies. She noticed that they weren't just blank slates. They had things carved on them. And out of the dozens there, one was glowing.

COME! Again that echo. It was a command that Brittney wanted to both obey and refuse. How dare whatever, whoever this was order her around! Who does it think it is?

ME! The echo reverberated less in her head now. And that was when she realized she was reaching for the rune and was so close to it that her fingers could more than brush against it.

Something practically slammed into her, something with wings that sent her hair whipping at her face, before her right arm dragged her down. She glanced at her limb, saw the weapon and the glowing runes, "The ******** style="color: darkred">JOHAIS B'OB. Was the declaration, loud and clear but also very tired. As if communicating to her and appearing the way he did on her arm exhausted him. And how the ******** did Brittney know the claw-thing was a he?

AM.

She stared in suspicion but gingerly threw a couple of jabs, and was pleasantly surprised to find the weight was barely there. Oh she was going to have so much fun with him.