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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 18, 2018 7:35:22 GMT
“Oh, the human folly of challenging magnificence.” Axel quipped in a mocking tone, although he certainly wasn’t mocking Evelyn. The twins had found when people were confronted with their vast intelligence and superior athleticism, they had one of two reactions: to bow down at their feet, or to become defensive, insecure, attacked, insulted. Axel typically preferred the former, while Evelyn was inclined towards the latter, him seeing worship it as an ego boost, her seeing disdain it as an opportunity for an altercation, physical or otherwise. This happened to fall in the latter category.
”One, that is not assured. And two, you were a prop I used in the environment, a distraction. Don’t give yourself so much credit.” She turned her head toward her, golden eye shimmering, ”And, of course, three, I didn’t beat you simply because I was interrupted. I’m sure if given the opportunity, I could've come away with two metahuman defeats from that bar instead of one.” She stretched her arms, careful not to upset her ribs. ”At the moment, however, the mood has passed. Perhaps another time, we’ll meet, and then we can decide a victor.” She dropped her arms back by her side. ”For now, reluctant allies, I suppose?”
She shook her head again at Sonnet’s wariness of Heroes. She must’ve had some past experience with them. Axel’s illusion knelt by Sonnet, his hand caressing her face. “Aw, who hurt you?” He cooed in an exaggerated tone, pursing his lips. Evelyn chuckled slightly. ”I wonder.” She said in Axevian.
Her face quickly returned to its natural blank state when Sonnet spoke again. She was trying to establish authority. Cute. She blinked. ”Interesting, because I recall you offering to help me. Trust me, I would never ask for it.” She replied in English. She shrugged. ”I am interested though. What do you mean by payment? Might be fun.”
She noted how Sonnet took her weight off her injured foot. Evelyn could easily remedy it; begin healing it, take away some of the pain, but she saw no reason to. If anything, it was better to keep her weak. If not for practicality’s sake, then simply to boost her ego.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 17, 2018 8:43:06 GMT
Evelyn found this woman to be slow. She found everyone to be slow, so this was nothing special, but sometimes she found the slowness of the human population to be particularly taxing, and this was one of those times. Why had she not experimented with her powers? Why had she not tried to discover anything about herself? Even a basic human like her would be capable of simple experimentation, trial and error. Had she just accepted it? Tried to go on with her life just having this potentially debilitating ability in her with no knowledge of it or how it worked? ”People are fucking stupid.” She told Cat in Axevian. He blinked in agreement.
So she’s the type that’s afraid of needles. Great. ”Just great.” She muttered in Axevian. Cat’s tail swished with increased frequency, enthusiastic to watch the woman hiss and squirm. She sighed and put the needle on the table. ”Here’s what we can do.” She said in English, leaning into the woman’s face. ”We can do the tests that don’t involve needles first; cotton swab, skin sample, etcetera, then the tests I need you alive and conscious for, athletic tests, psychological tests, then I can knock you out and take your blood or I could kill you and take your blood. We could do that, or I could take your blood now, and there would be a much lower chance of me killing you in the end. Or, of course, you could not cooperate with me, and I could kill you right now. It’s up to you.” She stared her directly in the eyes, her blank face, heterochromatic eyes, and, of course, her scars, painting an unnerving and intimidating picture.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 17, 2018 8:16:55 GMT
She hurried over to the indicated cupboard and pulled out the first aid kid. It was fully stocked, but the only thing she needed from it was the roll of bandages and the painkillers. The wound on the back of her head had long since clotted up - she could feel the dry blood stiffening her hair - and risk of infection was minimal, so she had no need for disinfectant, and she didn’t have any other significant injuries. She downed several painkillers before unashamedly removing her tank top, revealing yet even more twisted scars covering her body. She was kept decent by the black sports bra she had on underneath. She took the roll of bandages and twisted it tightly around her chest three times, covering the area where the fractured rib was. While this is generally not recommended as it could possibly restrict her breathing and increase risk of pneumonia, she knew she wouldn’t have the luxury of rest and relaxation (nor the patience for it), so she needed to immobilize it before could get irritated any further.
She pulled her shirt back on as she walked over to the television, looking over Sonnet’s shoulder, slinging her blood-soaked jacket back over her shoulder. ”Shame.” She grunted. ”I would’ve loved an encounter with a Hero.” She looked at Sonnet, a finger on her chin. ”Maybe I could provoke one. Do you think I could come off as a metahuman?” She tapped her finger. ”I think I could.” She smirked inwardly. ”I just fought two in a row, defeated one, and made it out with barely a scratch, that’s considered pretty significant to the general public, and they tend to have a narrow-minded view of who exactly as the ability to defeat metahumans. I definitely think I could.”
She looked around the apartment. ”Where are we exactly? How far from the bar are we? She wasn’t planning on going back, she’d already made her decision on that matter. She was just curious how long a walk she would have to take to get back to her trailer. ”And more importantly, do you have any alcohol? It’ll take a while for the painkillers to kick in.”
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 11, 2018 8:22:53 GMT
There was a strange sensation as the fabric of reality seemed to bend and she suddenly found herself in a different place altogether.
Evelyn felt her stomach lurch, saliva start to build up in her mouth, and before it could bother her any longer, she promptly stuck her fingers down her throat, forcing herself to throw up, quickly relieving herself of the nausea. She stared at the vomit intensely. It mostly consisted of alcohol but there were some remains of her meager lunch of cold canned beans from a few hours earlier. ”Well there goes the liquor.” She muttered, somewhat dissatisfied. While she was grateful it wouldn’t additionally alter her consciousness, she was disappointed it wouldn’t numb the pain any further.
In the meantime, she whipped her hand around like it was on fire. The sensation of human touch, unless it was combative, has always been highly unpleasant for Evelyn. She waved her hand around until she could no longer feel the heat of a person’s living flesh, then wiped it on her pants like she was wiping off dirt or drool along with her other hand, rubbing off the saliva and vomit. She caught the cloth, and liberally wiped off both of her hands before absentmindedly dropping it on the ground.
The place seemed like your typical sketchy hideout, the kind of place Glasgowman would have his cronies hiding out, but there didn’t seem to be any around. It didn’t seem like a trap, but Evelyn stayed on her guard, as she always did. ”Where are we?” She asked. She started digging around in the apartment, looking through all the cabinets and drawers. ”Do you have any medical supplies?” She asked while she searched. She’d like to patch up her fractured rib before it caused any further damage, and she even if she couldn’t find any designated medical supplies, she could find something to improvise with.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 7, 2018 9:57:10 GMT
The alcohol was dulling her paranoia, but it was still present, buzzing in the back of her head (although not as loud as the booze). What if Sonnet was planning to take her away? Planning to teleport her to him?
“Well, that would be perfect, wouldn’t it?” Axel interjected.
That gave her paranoia pause. It would. Even if Sonnet was leading her into a trap, she could fight her way out of it, and maybe it’d bring her closer to the man she was hunting. Maybe it would bring her directly to him. That, or it would just bring her to safety. Either way it was a win/win. That is, if she wanted to be brought to safety. Part of her wanted to stay here, fight the cops and whoever they brought with them. She could. She could be independant, her usual lone wolf self, show Sonnet what she was capable of. Although, Sonnet would likely have teleported away before she could see any of the action. That and she couldn’t afford to irritate her fractured rib. Well, she could, but it would hurt, and it would be a real pain to patch up, and she didn’t want to have to put herself through any more pain than necessary. She’s been through enough pain for a lifetime.
After a few moments of thought, Evelyn grunted and held out her hand, accepting Sonnet’s offer. Although the physical contact would be uncomfortable, she figured she could bear it for the short time it would take to teleport away.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 6, 2018 8:50:52 GMT
”Yes testing.” She affirmed. ”I’ve never gotten any biological data from a metahuman before, I’d like to obtain some.”
As the woman got dressed, she took out her venipuncture equipment that she stole from the local hospital; tourniquet, alcohol wipe, needle, tubes, and once the woman sat back down, tied the tourniquet around the woman’s arm. She began slowly and methodically shooting off questions. “What other powers do you have? Can you transform into other animals? Do you need to make physical contact to transform into that animal? How much control do you have over your transformation? Do you have any other powers?” She looked the woman in the eye to drive the point home. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”
She was taken slightly aback when then woman let out a loud hiss. Cat popped his head up, then stood up in the slow, narcissistic way that cats do, stretching out every limb, arching his back and shaking off before finally walking forwards. ”Can you communicate with animals?” She asked as Cat made his way towards them. He hopped up on the counter and sniffed at her, his tail slowly swishing back and forth.
”Not that that’s much of a power.” She said, taking the alcohol wipe and wiping it on the crook of the woman’s forearm. ”All humans can communicate with animals and vice versa. One knows from a young age that if an animal growls that they’re angry, if they whimper that they’re scared, if a dog wags its tail that they’re happy. You simply have to yell at an animal to let them know how you feel, or scream, or give them words of praise in an exaggerated tone.” She looked at Cat, a small smile on her face. ”And the more you know an animal, the more you can communicate. Look at him.” She said. ”He thinks you’re so small, like a scared little animal trapped in a cage. Which, I suppose, you are.”
She grabbed the needle and the tube. ”I will stress again that if you resist, I will kill you. It’s more useful to have you alive, but I don’t need you that way. Even if you turn into a bug, I can easily find and eliminate you. In fact, I’ll let Cat do it.” She smiled again at the cat, who had taken a seat and was watching the woman with condescending eyes, back straight, tail swishing slowly back and forth. ”Now hold your arm out straight.” She commanded as she moved to insert the needle into the woman’s arm.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 4, 2018 7:34:09 GMT
Evelyn grunted, seeing the cat stir from its sleep. She let out a loud meow, and Cat’s head snapped up to look at her. He licked his lips nonchalantly before putting his head back down, but now a low rumble was emitting from the cat, he was purring. ”Now we just have to wait until you turn into a human.” Evelyn said, wiping the scorch marks off her newly-welded knife. ”Don’t worry, I’m very patient.” She placed the knife down and removed her jacket, revealing a black t-shirt and her horribly scarred arms underneath, and pulled the pigeon carcass out of her pocket. She got out her taxidermy equipment and cleaned the bird, then began pulling the flesh out of its head.
As Evelyn was injecting preservatives into the bird’s skin, the cat finally transformed back into a human. ”Here.” Evelyn grabbed to woman’s clothes and handed it to her. She doesn’t typically feel empathy, and that’s not what this was, not exactly, but she knew what it was like to be unwillingly naked before a captor, and she didn’t want to be reminded of that. That didn’t mean she’d be polite enough to avert her eyes, but she did pick up her clothes for this specific eventuality.
”What am I going to do to you?” She mirror. ”Well, I’m going to take some biological samples; blood, saliva, skin, etcetera. And don’t worry, I won’t skin you or do anything like that, not unless you provoke me to do so.” She walked over to the research area and put on a new pair of latex gloves. ”It’ll be just like going to the doctor, I’m going to perform some perfectly harmless tests, and if you don’t resist me I won’t kill you.” She looked the woman in the eyes, ”Is that clear?”
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 4, 2018 3:38:23 GMT
Everytime she bent down to pick something up, she felt a stabbing pain in her ribs. They were definitely fractured. The alcohol was helping to numb the pain, but she still barely held in a wince every time she bent over.
”Guns. Useful.” She grunted. She was aware that he’s been dealing in guns, kind of. The days after her brother’s death were a fog. She was like an animal, following a scent of leads and interrogations, attacking enemies at full force, driven by feral emotion rather than logic and reason, simply following the chain dealers and destroying them. Weaponry may have been mentioned in regards to Glasgowman, but she wasn’t consciously aware of it; it had rested in the back of her head, pulled forth by Sonnet’s words.
Evelyn picked up her last knife and stared at Sonnet when she started laughing. Her comments came off to her as close-minded. Anyone can be defeated, metahuman or not, you just have to interpret their combative strategy, break down their patterns, and attack their weakness. Everyone has one. One just has to find it and adapt to it, and Evelyn could do that better than anyone. But more importantly, ”I’ve lost once, I don’t intend to lose again.” She said, looking into Sonnet's eyes. In terms of exactly what that loss was, she figured her body would speak for itself. She looked at her extended hand. ”And I don’t touch people unless I’m fighting them, but I will come with you.” Maybe it was because she was slightly buzzed (maybe more than slightly), but this woman seemed admirable, and perhaps if she got closer to her she would reveal more information, although it was far too late to turn on the “human” act.
“Guess you’ll just have to use your natural charm.” Axel smirked.
“Guess so.” She muttered humorously in Axevian. Then it occurred to her. ”Do you intend to teleport out? Would I have to make physical contact to come with you?” She asked in English.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 2, 2018 9:22:45 GMT
”Alright, that’s enough.” She grinned, amused, as Cat easily tore the metahuman apart. ”You gotta stop.” She giggled as she made her way over to them. He didn’t relent. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her. ”C’mon.” She bent down to scoop up the metahuman cat. Cat growled and swiped at her arm, managing to nick her skin, drawing blood. Evelyn sighed and put her hands on her hips. ”C’mon, I have experiments to do.” She grabbed the woman’s clothes before quickly swooping down and picking up the cat. Cat let out a long, drawn-out, guttural meow, like a complaint. Evelyn quickly grabbed a knife from her pocket and slammed the hilt against the cat’s head, swiftly knocking her out. Cat continued complaining and started clawing at her leg, thankfully the prosthetic one, making long claw marks in her pants. She sighed again. ”You have no appreciation for science, you know that?” She told Cat. He meowed loudly back at her. She shook her head and started making her way towards her trailer, Cat whining and scratching at her feet as she walked. He eventually leapt on her back, hooking his claws into her jacket and climbed up onto her shoulder and at started batting at the unconscious cat. She sighed once again, but allowed him to do it, ignoring all the strange looks she was getting as she walked down the street.
Eventually, she made it to the outskirts of the city. She walked between two derelict buildings deep into the forest where she made her way to the overgrown dirt road hidden by trees and a run down no-trespassing sign at the end of which lied her trailer, but it wasn’t simply a trailer, it had several, bulky modifications added to it, and attached to it was what looked like a large black box with a steel door, fortified with several locks inside of which were a myriad of materials and tools mainly for engineering purposes.
Evelyn let Cat hop off her back before she entered the main trailer which was cluttered with all sorts of engineering knick knacks, medical and scientific equipment, work-in-progress knives and other weaponry equipment, and several taxidermied half-eaten animals, which she’d taken up after Cat had started laying dead animals at her feet. Tucked into the very back of the trailer was a very tiny kitchen, a minuscule bed, and a door leading to the bathroom. She laid the cat down on a metal table, then put on a pair of latex gloves and began taking samples: blood, skin, saliva, everything she could, and placed them in vials which she carefully placed in a temperature-controlled container. Once finished, she sighed and leaned back against the table. Nothing to do until the cat awakened and turned back into a human, so she simply had to wait until then. She couldn’t risk the metahuman messing with her samples when she woke up so she took to welding one of the aforementioned work-in-progress knives while she waited instead, being sure to face the cat so she’d know when she woke up. Eventually, she heard a scratching at the door. She went up to let Cat in who settled down in the corner of the trailer, curled up, and went to sleep. Evelyn smiled, and promptly returned to her work.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jul 1, 2018 8:49:26 GMT
She was right, she didn’t talk to people much, not since Axel’s passing. He was always the one that got her into social situations, for the practice, he said, so that she could act normal, blend in when she needed to. Not that she could do that now, even if she wanted to. The only role she could play to help her blend in was the victim. Most would assume a scarred woman would to be shy and cowardly, that’s how many would believe a normal person would react to trauma, that’s a person one would feel comfortable approaching, but it was not a skin she at all felt comfortable wearing. The only people she’s really talked to since the incident were Jared and Marcy, but she’s long since lost touch with them. ”You’re right, I don’t talk to many people.” She responded, downing her drink. ”I talk to a cat.”
“And me.” Axel pouted jokingly.
”You don’t count.” She joked back in Axevian, smirking for a split second while pouring herself another glass.
Hm. Not helpful. It didn’t sound like she had much knowledge on the subject. Still, it didn’t hurt to try to delve a little deeper. ”Do you happen to know any gang leader operating in New York from Glasgow?” She asked, switching back to English. ”He’s very proud of his heritage.” She said with almost a hint of disdain. ”How much of my interaction with the hired help did you pick up on, by the way?” She asked. She wondered is Sonnet might have any input on the information.
”And yes, I’m aware. I’ve never been up against a Hero before. As much as I’d like to defeat one, I’d rather not risk more injury. It’s a pain in the ass to get patched up when you have to do it yourself, even if most of your bones have already been replaced with metal.” She downed the rest of her drink. ”I could do it though, even in this condition. And you’re right again. I should be gathering my knives before I have to leave.” She grunted as she stood up, having to use to bar to support herself. She made her way to the body of the bartender and pulled the throwing knife out of her neck. She then went around the remainder bar, gathering the rest of the knives she’d thrown about and placing them in her leg.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jun 29, 2018 8:47:46 GMT
”Human sentience confirmed.” She mumbled as the cat, for the most part, followed her instructions. She held her in her hands for a little, even as she started to squirm, not quite sure what to do with her. She supposed a succinct blow to the head would knock her out for a while, long enough for her to bring her to her trailer without any resistance. But then what? What if she woke up and turned back into a human? She didn’t have any restraints in her possession for very good reason and she wasn’t planning on accumulating any anytime soon. The very thought made her feel uncomfortably aware of the scars around her wrists.
Lost in her thoughts, she completely neglected the fact that the cat’s mouth was getting a little too close to her hand. She didn’t flinch when she sunk her fangs into her flesh, didn’t even drop her, but it gave her an idea. She put the cat down, then playfully yelled, “Get her, Cat!” Thinking he deserved a bit of fun. He followed in suit, chasing after her. Cat’s lithe, muscular body and years of living in the wilderness, hunting for his food would give him a huge advantage over this human-turned-cat. ”Don’t kill her though, I have research to do!”
“I don’t think he’s gonna listen to you.” Axel commented.
”I can always intervene if things get too far.” She replied in Axevian.
Axel raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Can you?”
Evelyn smirked back inwardly. ”He won’t be happy about it, but I can try. Besides, even if I can’t, a dead body is almost as useful as a live one.” Axel chuckled in response.
Cat was quickly gaining on the metahuman, and once he got close enough, pounced, aiming to sink his long, sharp claws into her hind legs.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jun 29, 2018 2:58:45 GMT
Evelyn didn’t appreciate her sarcasm, but her heart was pounding too hard for her to care. She gripped the glass harder to keep her hands from shaking. Her small slice of revenge had carved away a good portion of her fear, but some of it still remained. He knew she was still in New York. He could find her. She didn’t want to think about that though, not right now, so she decided to numb her fears, along with her pain, in alcohol.
Evelyn did appreciate, however, that she stuck around, despite watching her torture a man to death. She felt a sense of respect towards her. Someone with morality like that, morality that doesn’t require one to intersect to help an ailing man, that will stick around and interact with the perpetrator afterwards and not try to bring them to some sense of justice, is, at the very least, admirable.
Sonnet. Like the poem. Interesting. She grunted in return before replying. “Evelyn.” She downed her glass and began pouring another one. “I apologize for the earlier attack. I get paranoid. Were I in my right mind, I promise I would have been much more effective.” She examined the glass in her hand. “You don’t have to worry now. I’ve gotten all the aggression out of my system. The fight with him provided all the exhilaration I was looking for.” She indicated to the pile of meat on the ground. “And more. A lot more.” She took a sip of her drink.
Evelyn looked Sonnet up and down. “Yakuza.” She had mixed feelings. The Yakuza are a gang. Gangs are involved in drugs. Drugs are what killed her brother. Although, she doubted the Yakuza had anything to do with her brother’s death. Everything she investigated pointed to something local, American. Still, the very idea of a gang put her on edge, but she was too injured to get into another proper fight (although she was certain she would win, she didn’t want patch herself up anymore than she had to), so she decided to focus on her goal, on those she knew were responsible. “Do you know anything about the New York heroin trade?” She asked casually, sliding down to the floor to prop her back against the bar to support her ailing back and ribs. “For that matter, how long have you been in America?” She asked, looking up at her. Although seemingly an innocent question, that information may be crucial to understanding if she had any knowledge of Glasgowman and his gang.
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jun 26, 2018 1:04:39 GMT
Was that a response? Seemed human enough, but she couldn’t be certain. At least now she knew that she couldn’t speak.
Cat, having quickly finished his meal, happily pranced over to Evelyn and spat out what remained of the bird: a head and tail attached by a feathery spine, bits a meat still sticking to the bone. ”Thank you.” She said, scratching his blood-soaked head as she put the remains in one of the bird in one of her various pockets. He stretched his neck up to meet her hand, eyes closed, purring, content.
The mad scientist in her head had a sudden, sinister idea. She’d never properly experimented on a metahuman before. She hadn’t had the chance. This woman seemed to be stuck in a cat’s body, presumably because of the bite Cat had delivered to her hand. If she were to bite her, would she turn back into a human? She wasn’t willing to try. Besides, if she were to remain in a cat body, she could incapacitate her and bring her back to her trailer while drawing little to no suspicion.
Then she looked at Cat, and another idea entered her head. ”Have you ever killed a human before?’ She asked him in Axevian. He didn’t answer, of course. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had, but if he hadn’t, now would be the perfect chance. A human stuck in a cat’s body would be defenseless against Cat’s barrage of attacks. And it would be great for Cat to get a human kill under his belt. Although, she had to admit, it did seem a bit like cheating.
For now, she had decided to stick to the basics, get a definitive answer. ”Meow twice and blink three times if you can understand me.”
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jun 25, 2018 8:22:51 GMT
“Did that woman just turn into a cat?” Axel asked.
“I believe so.” Evelyn answered in Axevian to her hallucination of a brother.
Cat sniffed at the woman-turned-cat, confused. Then leapt back over to his prey and hissed at the cat, hair standing on end, letting her know that this food was his and his alone before slicing open the still-living pigeon’s belly and feasting on its innards.
Evelyn walked over and knelt down to examine the cat. “Must be a metahuman.” She said in Axevian.
“Must be.” He agreed.
“I told you not to mess with Cat.” She lectured in English, amused. “He hates everyone except for me. And he very much prefers to lick the blood off his own fur. I think he likes the taste. That and the feeling of satisfaction he gets when he’s covered in the blood of his prey. I know I feel the same way, and we tend to agree on things.”
She moved to pick up the cat and hold her at arm’s length. “Can you talk?” She asked her. “Can you give me some sign that you understand what I’m saying?”
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Post by Evelyn Winters on Jun 25, 2018 6:51:10 GMT
Evelyn propped herself up on the table. She had most certainly bruised a rib, perhaps fractured one, but all she could feel was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. The woman had followed her directions. She’d even been kind enough to keep him alive. The moment he blew the woman against the racks, she pulled out her smallest throwing knife and tossed it in his direction. It sliced through the air faster than he could react and lodged itself directly into his spine. He went down like a puppet with its strings cut. She grinned inwardly and started marching towards him. His eyes followed her. He was paralyzed from the neck down. She felt a gust of wind try to blow her back, and although she had to grab on to one of the tables to stay standing, overall, she easily held her ground. The blow to the head must’ve weakened him. She imagined the use of his abilities would require a great deal of concentration. His consciousness must be incapacitated.
She started walking again and felt another gust of wind, even weaker, it barely gave her pause. Still, she took out one of her heavier knives and lobbed it towards his head. The hilt nailed him square in the brow. His eyes briefly fluttered shut before opening again. She didn’t want him unconscious. No, she had questions. That, and some serious emotions to take out on someone.
She made her way to him and knelt over him, straddling him, one leg on each side of his hefty body. He grit his teeth, and she felt a slight breeze blow her hair back, revealing her nub of an ear, but doing little else. In front of her, she saw her brother cackling maniacally. If she could, she would’ve joined him. Instead, she remained blank-faced, and repositioned his head so it was facing upwards at her. She brought her face uncomfortably close to his. ”Hello,” she said, emotionless. ”Before we start, you should know, you are paralyzed from the neck down. That does not mean you can’t feel pain.” She jammed the knife into his arm. He winced, and sucked in a sharp intake of air. ”I have questions, you have answers. The faster you answer, the quicker your death. The slower you answer, well, you get the picture.” She took the knife out and jammed it into his arm again.
He laughed, slowly and painfully, almost wheezing. “Have you looked in the mirror recently? I’m sorry, but I know better than to upset my employer.”
She brought her face even closer to his. “Him? He was an amateur.” She put the knife back into her leg and grabbed the heavier one she’d thrown at him earlier. ”See this? She brandished the blade in front of his face. ”I created it myself. Welded the metal, fashioned the hilt.” She grabbed his index finger and placed in flat on the ground. She felt a desperate gust of wind, a bit stronger than this time, but did little other than rustle her hair. ”I created it specifically to cut through bone.” She brought the blade down, and sliced off the tip of his finger. That produced a hefty yell. She picked up the tip of his finger and brandished it in front of his face. ”See, like butter.” She said before flicking the bit of flesh away. ”I can dice your fingers up like vegetables, and I will. Unless you give me the answers that I want. So what will it be? A fast death, or a slow one?” His eyes were wide. He was breathing fast. He seemed to be thinking. She grabbed another one of his fingers.
“Alright! Alright.” He said quickly. “What do you want to know?”
She smirked inwardly. ”Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked into his eyes, felt his pulse. He wasn’t lying. ”Where did you meet?”
”Central Park.”
Of course, someplace public. Someplace thousands of people go each day, where there’d be no clues left behind to follow. ”Who do you work for?”
“I’m freelance. I work for whoever hires me.”
”What did he want with me?”
“He wanted you alive. That’s all I know.”
”What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. They never told me. He was just...an employer.”
She felt another gust of wind, even stronger, it almost blew her back. She took a smaller knife out of her pocket and slid it directly above is right eye between the eyeball and the skull hitting the trigeminal nerve, distracting him with pain. He screamed much louder this time and didn’t stop until she pulled the knife out. She placed it back in her leg.
”How did he find you?”
He took a few moments to catch his breath. “Reputation.” He finally said.
”How did he contact you?”
“I have informants...middlemen.” He strained. “They contact them to get to me.”
”Which of these middlemen came to you about working for him?” He paused for a second, hesitant to answer. She grabbed his thumb.
“Andrew!” He blurted out. “Andrew Jacobs. He lives in Avalon West Chelsea...apartment 282 on 11th Avenue.”
A lead. Finally. She smiled inwardly and looked up at her brother. ”Is that all?” She asked him in Axevian.
He stood, scratching his chin, foot tapping, “I think there’s something else…”
There was. She could feel it on the tip of her brain. Some question left unanswered. She played back the whole interaction in her head before landing on something he said. Of course. She looked back down towards him. ”Earlier you said ‘they’. You said ‘they were right.’ Who are ‘they?’”
He laughed again, even more strained. “You think it ends with him? No...One of her representatives was there.”
”Who?”
“You really don’t know.” His lips twitched up into a smile. “Peterson. Or, that’s what she goes by. It seems she’s...taken an interest in you.”
Peterson. She’d never heard that name. Not in any way significant. But it was a lead. ”Alright, I think that’s it.” She said.
“Okay.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed the muscles in his face, ready for death. She took his fingers and layed them out flat. “Wait.” He said, panicked, “What are you doing?”
As previously stated, Evelyn had some serious emotions to take out on someone. She’d just been confronted with her greatest fear and almost lost. She was enraged, she was furious, and even worse, she was scared. She stared at the man before her and imagined it was him. His long, skinny fingers that she was chopping up, his pale, tattooed skin that she was carving into, his pointy nose that she was slicing off, his stormy gray eyes that she was stabbing out, his shit-eating grin finally turned into a look of horror and pain and suffering. His body that finally went limp after what could’ve been minutes or hours or days of intense torture. He that was finally defeated, and not a hired lacky.
Finally, she stood up over the mutilated piece of meat that used to be a man and took a deep breath. Her jacket was heavy, sticky with blood, so she took it off, revealing a black tank top underneath and a myriad of deep, twisted, disfiguring scars. She flung it over her shoulder and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar, one of the few that still remained, and poured herself a drink, her blood-stained hands leaving a mark on the glass. ”Want one?" She asked the woman without even bothering to check if she was still there. The whole bar was empty, everyone having left long ago. The place was destroyed, bottles smashed, chairs and tables broken and overturned. Evelyn, with her disfigured body, face and hands covered in blood, felt like she fit right in. She took a swig from the glass. ”It’ll help with the pain.”
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