The rain was the first thing she felt. Large splattering drops that came slowly, as if time itself had taken hold to control the flow of every living thing. It gripped flesh, hair, wood and steel. The stage began to feel the torrent of those drops like bullets. A snap within the elements, and it all began to cascade, showers that Earth wept forth upon the hunter. Crimson began to moisten, trickle, and drip away from her wounds, and the puddle beneath her body. Police had come, and gone. No one could coax her into leaving, not even the medics. They waited to clean the area, but she wouldn't let them. An entire day faded into night, into darkness, twilight.
“I'm fine.”
Her body trembled under the chill of the water. Pulsing waves washed through her, dripped down her pale face and onto the blood that had yet to fade into nothingness. It was mostly hers, now, flowing against wood to drip off the edge and onto the grass. This was a place for the great, the grand, a memorial ground. No one would forget this day...especially Victoria.
“I'm fine,” she whispered to no one but herself.
Everyone had left. Sigfried had been dragged away, Jarka long before the unfolding murders, Hati and Skoll along with them. No one stayed, no one could. I'm not normal, I never was. How foolish, naive, you were always right, Jeremy. Victoria finally lifted her torso, her brow covered with thick blood. Large globs of water assaulted her face, her lashes fluttering against the onslaught, until giving up to close. She lifted her arms out as she knelt, the pale limbs spread as if in surrender. A rumble echoed within the dark clouds. One had to wonder where they had come from. Lightening cracked in the sky, a frightening flash.
“Why?!” she cried out in a torn voice, it echoed with the low groan of thunder. An arching band of electricity fluctuated across her arms. Victoria's sobs were drown out by the pitter patter of the rain. She always believed that rain gave life to better things. It fell, it cleansed, it washed all of yesterday's pain away. The smell of it filled her nostrils and she drank it in with a shudder and a low, pathetic groan. Arms pulled inwards, a lonely hug against her nearly naked body.
She was alone.
Bare feet stepped through puddles at a slow, mindless pace. Victoria's arms hung limp at her sides, only one of her segmented sleeves remained, wet and sagging. She stared down at the cement as she walked. The hunter knew, she knew damn well, that she should have gone back to Zone Five. Victoria was hallow...The lackluster shine had fleeted from her crystalline orbs. Long coral strands covered her back, and aided in some effort to cover her torn dress, which exposed burnt torn flesh at the hands of the grenade. Water droplets slid down between her breasts, tattered fabric stuck to the each mound pathetically, she may as well have been naked. A vein was cut. It was deep, and it was bleeding, like the small trails sliding down her long legs.
“Watch it!”
A callous voice snapped toward the vacant girl. She stumbled upon being bumped and all but trampled on. Her back collided with the glass of a store window, squelching with bare flesh against the surface. Her eyes remained downcast, unwavering, as empty as her heart. The male made a disgruntled noise and moved on, a muttered insult under his breath.
Victoria turned slowly and pressed her hands against the glass. She couldn't see her reflection, beads of water dribbled against the pane. Within the dark confines of the establishment mannequins stood in position, garb all about their bodies. Her head tilted back, eyelids closing and opening slowly. The girl needed new clothing but...she just couldn't care.
The street was cold, the people colder. Downtown Central City was a cesspool of vermin and cretins. Lights blazed to indicate bars and clubs. Victoria slowly pulled at the remaining sleeve. The fabric came free, and fell hard, heavy with water from the downpour.
A sweet, melodic voice filtered through a doorway. The girl stopped, her entire form still as the water dripped down from the heavens to surrounded her in a torrent. Victoria shivered, her gaze flicking to the open door as a young man laughed softly to let someone through. It wasn't them that she heard, but the soft music playing into the night air.
Losing yourself, you did a good thing
Truth never hurt, you did a good thing
In spite of yourself, you did a good thing
Truth will be told, you did a good thing
She turned on her shoeless feet and stepped in, the door held open, the male drinking his coffee. A curious glance surveyed the youth, but he said nothing. Humid air pressed against her wet body, her eyes settling on the stage where a young woman stood, a hand clasping the microphone. She sang with her heart and soul.
And I'll miss you for the longest time
Our lovely view was the best I've known
Tears on my face have fallen so
So long there can be no harder way
The cherry haired youth felt her breath hitch and she promptly turned, leaving the bistro. Quick footsteps caused puddles to splash wildly, she ran along the street with her tears threatening to spill again. Heavy breaths were formed from her efforts, until she stopped to lean over, close against a brick wall. “I-I'm fine.”
“You don't look fine,” a voice replied, cutting off her thoughts.
Victoria glanced around slowly, a hand lifting to her wounded skin. She had stopped just past the opening of a long, wet, alleyway. The red of a cigarette cherry burned in the darkness, smoke seeping into the stale air, smelling thick of soil and garbage. The man took another drag, fingerless gloves covering his palms. Wild brown hair adored his head, a sprinkling of facial hair on his mug. There were dark rings under his eyes, but his teeth appeared so...glaringly white, a smile that appeared once the death stick was lowered away.
“W-wha...” she stammered, and she pressed her hand to her brow. Victoria was tired, purely, completely exhausted. She had lost more blood than she should have, her body's rate of healing substantially slower than ever.
“Get out of the rain, stupid kid.” A grasp was felt on her arm and she stumbled into the darkness. It was drier here, draped in shadows, filled with junk. Victoria slid down and her knees lifted slowly to her wounded chest. “You look like shit,” his more-than-friendly voice slipped into her ear. She felt a hand against hers, a small gift.
“...this?” she asked, her voice void of any reason, any thought, except the ache in her chest.
“I've seen worse off than you...let me guess, sweetheart, boyfriend break your heart?” the man remained crouched next to her. So many people ended up fucked up, and crawling down this hole. She may have had a burned wound against her lower abdomen, and a ruined dress, but he really had seen worse.
“B-boyfriend...”
“There, there,” he lifted her hand to her mouth.
This was familiar, this was...like back then. Jeremy had coaxed her out of her shell, took her into his arms, made the bad men leave her alone. He had told her to take those pills, those tests, it had all led to better things. Victoria smiled softly and looked at the man with glossy eyes. “Jeremy?”
“I'll be whoever you want me to be, babe,” he replied and all but forced her to press the pill between her lips. It settled on her tongue. It was bitter, it was sweet, and it washed down her dry mouth like a bullet. Like the bullet that ripped through the back of Roy Munin's skull and covered her in blood.
The world was breathing. It was pulsing like butterfly wings in the sunlight of a summers' day. Victoria tilted her head back, her cobalt eyes wide and staring. Drops of rain fell across the alley, the space uncovered, and she could see every clear fragment of water colliding upon the earth with a shatter. Her breathing hitched, not from pain of the heart, but from awe.
“There we go, baby, much better.”
“It's...it's all so vivid.”
A hand lifted from the cosmos of her being, so amazing, the air was moving, gripping her and aching for her to float away with it. The drug dealer pulled her hand down and kissed her palm. A radiating spark, literally, leapt from the touch. At first he pulled away, but this girl, she looked too good to ignore. Young and prime, stupid and innocent.
“I have to go.”
“No, you don't,” he replied carefully. Victoria stood, and he with her, stepping with a smooth motion to block her path. Hands found her sides, trailing upwards against bare skin and torn cloth. “It's warm here, safe, no better place.”
“J-Jeremy...” she paused, her head tilting back against the wall. “No, I have to...” her heart fluttered.
That throbbing, it was all around her. Victoria's eyes fluttered and she pressed against the wall. What have I done? There was an aching all around. What did I do? She felt her thigh rising, instinctively hooking with his hand so hot against her skin. “I can't...” she had said this many times before.
“NO!”
Electricity surged from her hands, and the current fed into the bastard's body with more power than ever. What Richard had felt...was nothing compared to this. It was a force of nature, spurred on by the heightened senses, the drug fucking up her mind, but she didn't care who this guy was. He wasn't Jeremy, and he certainly wasn't Roy.
His figure flopped, shook, and fell over twitching from the intense shock. Victoria did as she had done almost a year ago. She held the material of her dress, hanging by threads, to her body and she ran from the alley and back into the rain. Adrenaline pushed her, sobs choked in her throat. She could feel every hit of the rain like rocks on her skin. Twice she fell, all the grace from her, but she always got back up from the puddles.
“He's dead, he's dead, they're both dead. I killed him,” she cried under her breath. She was lost, she couldn't think with all of this drug befuddling her mind. Victoria wandered the streets with her eyes wide, her heart rapid, until she stood on the only street she could remember.
“You think they're making out?”
“Hell if I know,” Skoll looked down at his nails absently.
“'cause I'd like to, you know, eat something,” Hati complained. They leaned against the wall just outside of the apartment. It had been a few hours since Jarka had returned, but, anything could be going on inside of that hell hole. Females were bombs, living, breathing bombs.
Speaking of bombs, and females, a pale slender hand pushed open the door leading outside. Rain had lessened to a drizzle, droplets littered the ground where long strands of deep rose dangled down her lithe figure. A sniffle echoed down the short hall.
Victoria slowly walked down the hall, her back straight, arms covering her chest in a self-hug. Her face showed no emotion; she sniffled again. Each step was equal in strides until she stood in front of the two men. Her comrades, affiliates, but not her friends. Eyes downcast, avoiding.
“Hey.”
“Uh, shit,” Hati rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from her state. Victoria didn't care, she looked at the door beside them. Although she had begun to heal, a smaller scorch mark was still struggling.
“Bye.”
Victoria walked closer to the door. Her hand grasped the knob, but she couldn't turn it. Skoll gripped her fingers, and he stared at her, right at her. She didn't look up. It was hard enough pretending that she was fine. It was hard not to flinch, fall, crumble and feel the world spinning. Close inspection would show that she was visibly shaking, the narcotic enough to make her teeth clench and her body feel every sensation as rain residue dribbled down the backs of her thighs.
“Victoria,” Skoll sounded so grown up. It was as if they had all been effected, in some way, by what had happened. Loss was a mighty wave against the world. One person's death can affect many.
She couldn't say anything. The doorknob was melting, she had to turn it, before it disappeared. Victoria's strong grip turned, pulling free of the other hand, which felt heavy and warm. Blue eyes, hazed, flitted up finally to lock with the male. “Whatever is going on in here, can't be any worse than out here,” she whispered hauntingly. The door swung open with a creak and she walked into the messy, dingy apartment.
“Vic,” Sigfried stood up from the couch, his eyes roaming the state of her. She was a rag doll, all seams undone.
“Fearless leader,” she replied. Her gaze roamed from Sigfried's bright, blazing hoodie, to all the bits and pieces of his life arranged like baubles in this tiny hovel. A fork, glinting in the light. An overturned bottle, the colors floating off it's skin. This entire time she held her fingers tight to the cloth that had been ripped from her torso, a lifeline, she supposed.
“What?” Sigfried replied, face paling. He could very well have been wondering whether she knew...that it had all been him, he had been the one doing everything. This kid, college drop out, good-for-nothing loser, was everyone and no-one.
“Roy's dead,” her voice was a whisper, dead in tone. She said this simply, as if commenting on the weather. “Rank structure dictates that you're now the leader.” She didn't look at him, only let her head tilt back slowly, watching the light flicker...although it didn't flicker for anyone else. “No point in keeping secrets now. Point, and I'll kill. But I'm tired. Goodnight.” The girl walked across the room.
“Victoria, wait, about tha-
Roy's bedroom door closed in Sigfried's face. She could have gone to her hotel room, but in her frantic drugged, fucked up state, this is where she had ended up. This was the only place that made sense. Not the expensive extravagant suite, not the boring sterile room back at Zone Five. Her heart pounded and burned with each shallow breath while she plucked, peeled, and removed the dress from her body. Tears freshly sprung like a fountain from her weary eyes, hands and knees met with the plush mattress. The only room ever taken care of, clean, perfectly organized. She wished she had asked him if he had some compulsion to be perfect, to live perfect, maybe that was why he loved her. Victoria had grown up being told she was perfect. She had been made to be perfect.
Her nose buried into the pillow, she was small beneath his blanket. Victoria cradled the pillow under one arm, over the other arm, her body nearly covered completely, pink hair a mess all around. It was still wet, soaking into sheets. “Roy,” she whispered past a sob. Tears claimed the pillow to soak. She could smell him all over it. The bed had been so neat, as if he had never slept in it, but it really, truly smelt like him. “How did you catch me? I was the hunter, not you. Come back...” she gripped the pillow with her words. “You...you...idiot.”
“I'm fine.”
Her body trembled under the chill of the water. Pulsing waves washed through her, dripped down her pale face and onto the blood that had yet to fade into nothingness. It was mostly hers, now, flowing against wood to drip off the edge and onto the grass. This was a place for the great, the grand, a memorial ground. No one would forget this day...especially Victoria.
“I'm fine,” she whispered to no one but herself.
Everyone had left. Sigfried had been dragged away, Jarka long before the unfolding murders, Hati and Skoll along with them. No one stayed, no one could. I'm not normal, I never was. How foolish, naive, you were always right, Jeremy. Victoria finally lifted her torso, her brow covered with thick blood. Large globs of water assaulted her face, her lashes fluttering against the onslaught, until giving up to close. She lifted her arms out as she knelt, the pale limbs spread as if in surrender. A rumble echoed within the dark clouds. One had to wonder where they had come from. Lightening cracked in the sky, a frightening flash.
“Why?!” she cried out in a torn voice, it echoed with the low groan of thunder. An arching band of electricity fluctuated across her arms. Victoria's sobs were drown out by the pitter patter of the rain. She always believed that rain gave life to better things. It fell, it cleansed, it washed all of yesterday's pain away. The smell of it filled her nostrils and she drank it in with a shudder and a low, pathetic groan. Arms pulled inwards, a lonely hug against her nearly naked body.
She was alone.
--
Bare feet stepped through puddles at a slow, mindless pace. Victoria's arms hung limp at her sides, only one of her segmented sleeves remained, wet and sagging. She stared down at the cement as she walked. The hunter knew, she knew damn well, that she should have gone back to Zone Five. Victoria was hallow...The lackluster shine had fleeted from her crystalline orbs. Long coral strands covered her back, and aided in some effort to cover her torn dress, which exposed burnt torn flesh at the hands of the grenade. Water droplets slid down between her breasts, tattered fabric stuck to the each mound pathetically, she may as well have been naked. A vein was cut. It was deep, and it was bleeding, like the small trails sliding down her long legs.
“Watch it!”
A callous voice snapped toward the vacant girl. She stumbled upon being bumped and all but trampled on. Her back collided with the glass of a store window, squelching with bare flesh against the surface. Her eyes remained downcast, unwavering, as empty as her heart. The male made a disgruntled noise and moved on, a muttered insult under his breath.
Victoria turned slowly and pressed her hands against the glass. She couldn't see her reflection, beads of water dribbled against the pane. Within the dark confines of the establishment mannequins stood in position, garb all about their bodies. Her head tilted back, eyelids closing and opening slowly. The girl needed new clothing but...she just couldn't care.
The street was cold, the people colder. Downtown Central City was a cesspool of vermin and cretins. Lights blazed to indicate bars and clubs. Victoria slowly pulled at the remaining sleeve. The fabric came free, and fell hard, heavy with water from the downpour.
A sweet, melodic voice filtered through a doorway. The girl stopped, her entire form still as the water dripped down from the heavens to surrounded her in a torrent. Victoria shivered, her gaze flicking to the open door as a young man laughed softly to let someone through. It wasn't them that she heard, but the soft music playing into the night air.
Losing yourself, you did a good thing
Truth never hurt, you did a good thing
In spite of yourself, you did a good thing
Truth will be told, you did a good thing
She turned on her shoeless feet and stepped in, the door held open, the male drinking his coffee. A curious glance surveyed the youth, but he said nothing. Humid air pressed against her wet body, her eyes settling on the stage where a young woman stood, a hand clasping the microphone. She sang with her heart and soul.
And I'll miss you for the longest time
Our lovely view was the best I've known
Tears on my face have fallen so
So long there can be no harder way
The cherry haired youth felt her breath hitch and she promptly turned, leaving the bistro. Quick footsteps caused puddles to splash wildly, she ran along the street with her tears threatening to spill again. Heavy breaths were formed from her efforts, until she stopped to lean over, close against a brick wall. “I-I'm fine.”
“You don't look fine,” a voice replied, cutting off her thoughts.
Victoria glanced around slowly, a hand lifting to her wounded skin. She had stopped just past the opening of a long, wet, alleyway. The red of a cigarette cherry burned in the darkness, smoke seeping into the stale air, smelling thick of soil and garbage. The man took another drag, fingerless gloves covering his palms. Wild brown hair adored his head, a sprinkling of facial hair on his mug. There were dark rings under his eyes, but his teeth appeared so...glaringly white, a smile that appeared once the death stick was lowered away.
“W-wha...” she stammered, and she pressed her hand to her brow. Victoria was tired, purely, completely exhausted. She had lost more blood than she should have, her body's rate of healing substantially slower than ever.
“Get out of the rain, stupid kid.” A grasp was felt on her arm and she stumbled into the darkness. It was drier here, draped in shadows, filled with junk. Victoria slid down and her knees lifted slowly to her wounded chest. “You look like shit,” his more-than-friendly voice slipped into her ear. She felt a hand against hers, a small gift.
“...this?” she asked, her voice void of any reason, any thought, except the ache in her chest.
“I've seen worse off than you...let me guess, sweetheart, boyfriend break your heart?” the man remained crouched next to her. So many people ended up fucked up, and crawling down this hole. She may have had a burned wound against her lower abdomen, and a ruined dress, but he really had seen worse.
“B-boyfriend...”
“There, there,” he lifted her hand to her mouth.
This was familiar, this was...like back then. Jeremy had coaxed her out of her shell, took her into his arms, made the bad men leave her alone. He had told her to take those pills, those tests, it had all led to better things. Victoria smiled softly and looked at the man with glossy eyes. “Jeremy?”
“I'll be whoever you want me to be, babe,” he replied and all but forced her to press the pill between her lips. It settled on her tongue. It was bitter, it was sweet, and it washed down her dry mouth like a bullet. Like the bullet that ripped through the back of Roy Munin's skull and covered her in blood.
The world was breathing. It was pulsing like butterfly wings in the sunlight of a summers' day. Victoria tilted her head back, her cobalt eyes wide and staring. Drops of rain fell across the alley, the space uncovered, and she could see every clear fragment of water colliding upon the earth with a shatter. Her breathing hitched, not from pain of the heart, but from awe.
“There we go, baby, much better.”
“It's...it's all so vivid.”
A hand lifted from the cosmos of her being, so amazing, the air was moving, gripping her and aching for her to float away with it. The drug dealer pulled her hand down and kissed her palm. A radiating spark, literally, leapt from the touch. At first he pulled away, but this girl, she looked too good to ignore. Young and prime, stupid and innocent.
“I have to go.”
“No, you don't,” he replied carefully. Victoria stood, and he with her, stepping with a smooth motion to block her path. Hands found her sides, trailing upwards against bare skin and torn cloth. “It's warm here, safe, no better place.”
“J-Jeremy...” she paused, her head tilting back against the wall. “No, I have to...” her heart fluttered.
That throbbing, it was all around her. Victoria's eyes fluttered and she pressed against the wall. What have I done? There was an aching all around. What did I do? She felt her thigh rising, instinctively hooking with his hand so hot against her skin. “I can't...” she had said this many times before.
“NO!”
Electricity surged from her hands, and the current fed into the bastard's body with more power than ever. What Richard had felt...was nothing compared to this. It was a force of nature, spurred on by the heightened senses, the drug fucking up her mind, but she didn't care who this guy was. He wasn't Jeremy, and he certainly wasn't Roy.
His figure flopped, shook, and fell over twitching from the intense shock. Victoria did as she had done almost a year ago. She held the material of her dress, hanging by threads, to her body and she ran from the alley and back into the rain. Adrenaline pushed her, sobs choked in her throat. She could feel every hit of the rain like rocks on her skin. Twice she fell, all the grace from her, but she always got back up from the puddles.
“He's dead, he's dead, they're both dead. I killed him,” she cried under her breath. She was lost, she couldn't think with all of this drug befuddling her mind. Victoria wandered the streets with her eyes wide, her heart rapid, until she stood on the only street she could remember.
--
“You think they're making out?”
“Hell if I know,” Skoll looked down at his nails absently.
“'cause I'd like to, you know, eat something,” Hati complained. They leaned against the wall just outside of the apartment. It had been a few hours since Jarka had returned, but, anything could be going on inside of that hell hole. Females were bombs, living, breathing bombs.
Speaking of bombs, and females, a pale slender hand pushed open the door leading outside. Rain had lessened to a drizzle, droplets littered the ground where long strands of deep rose dangled down her lithe figure. A sniffle echoed down the short hall.
Victoria slowly walked down the hall, her back straight, arms covering her chest in a self-hug. Her face showed no emotion; she sniffled again. Each step was equal in strides until she stood in front of the two men. Her comrades, affiliates, but not her friends. Eyes downcast, avoiding.
“Hey.”
“Uh, shit,” Hati rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from her state. Victoria didn't care, she looked at the door beside them. Although she had begun to heal, a smaller scorch mark was still struggling.
“Bye.”
Victoria walked closer to the door. Her hand grasped the knob, but she couldn't turn it. Skoll gripped her fingers, and he stared at her, right at her. She didn't look up. It was hard enough pretending that she was fine. It was hard not to flinch, fall, crumble and feel the world spinning. Close inspection would show that she was visibly shaking, the narcotic enough to make her teeth clench and her body feel every sensation as rain residue dribbled down the backs of her thighs.
“Victoria,” Skoll sounded so grown up. It was as if they had all been effected, in some way, by what had happened. Loss was a mighty wave against the world. One person's death can affect many.
She couldn't say anything. The doorknob was melting, she had to turn it, before it disappeared. Victoria's strong grip turned, pulling free of the other hand, which felt heavy and warm. Blue eyes, hazed, flitted up finally to lock with the male. “Whatever is going on in here, can't be any worse than out here,” she whispered hauntingly. The door swung open with a creak and she walked into the messy, dingy apartment.
“Vic,” Sigfried stood up from the couch, his eyes roaming the state of her. She was a rag doll, all seams undone.
“Fearless leader,” she replied. Her gaze roamed from Sigfried's bright, blazing hoodie, to all the bits and pieces of his life arranged like baubles in this tiny hovel. A fork, glinting in the light. An overturned bottle, the colors floating off it's skin. This entire time she held her fingers tight to the cloth that had been ripped from her torso, a lifeline, she supposed.
“What?” Sigfried replied, face paling. He could very well have been wondering whether she knew...that it had all been him, he had been the one doing everything. This kid, college drop out, good-for-nothing loser, was everyone and no-one.
“Roy's dead,” her voice was a whisper, dead in tone. She said this simply, as if commenting on the weather. “Rank structure dictates that you're now the leader.” She didn't look at him, only let her head tilt back slowly, watching the light flicker...although it didn't flicker for anyone else. “No point in keeping secrets now. Point, and I'll kill. But I'm tired. Goodnight.” The girl walked across the room.
“Victoria, wait, about tha-
Roy's bedroom door closed in Sigfried's face. She could have gone to her hotel room, but in her frantic drugged, fucked up state, this is where she had ended up. This was the only place that made sense. Not the expensive extravagant suite, not the boring sterile room back at Zone Five. Her heart pounded and burned with each shallow breath while she plucked, peeled, and removed the dress from her body. Tears freshly sprung like a fountain from her weary eyes, hands and knees met with the plush mattress. The only room ever taken care of, clean, perfectly organized. She wished she had asked him if he had some compulsion to be perfect, to live perfect, maybe that was why he loved her. Victoria had grown up being told she was perfect. She had been made to be perfect.
Her nose buried into the pillow, she was small beneath his blanket. Victoria cradled the pillow under one arm, over the other arm, her body nearly covered completely, pink hair a mess all around. It was still wet, soaking into sheets. “Roy,” she whispered past a sob. Tears claimed the pillow to soak. She could smell him all over it. The bed had been so neat, as if he had never slept in it, but it really, truly smelt like him. “How did you catch me? I was the hunter, not you. Come back...” she gripped the pillow with her words. “You...you...idiot.”
![[Image: VictoriaJuly.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/VictoriaJuly.jpg)
![[Image: ManSoldWorld.png]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/UG/ManSoldWorld.png)