WARNING: This thread will contain blood, violence, and mention of torture in gross detail.
It could be said that Tabby was in a bad mood, but to call her mood bad would be an understatement. Tabby was in a rage. A slow, smoldering rage that had been building up as each of her lovingly crafted plots had fallen apart or been taken from her, one after the bloody other. First that ugly Kain had chased her from April. Then the ugly Hunter had stolen her Simon. And then all those guild people had ruined her crucifiction of Connor, which had been truly the most beautiful thing Tabby had ever seen. And what was worse, the blame had never fallen on Kain as planned. Everyone had gotten away free as a bird, leaving Tabby friendless, homeless and Petless. This last was the worst of all. Now that she'd had a taste of torture, she wanted more, and no Pet to hurt!
Tonight's hunting had gone horribly due to her cheerless attitude, so she had an empty stomach to go with her bad mood. Really, she just wanted to tear something up right now! Shred it to pieces and stomp on its carcass.
Sighing, Tabby adjusted her skirt and stepped off the street to rest in an alley. Being a vampire was supposed to be so elegant and fun. Where had all that gone? She was too pretty to be huddled in a smelly alley. She should be sitting in the lap of luxury, sipping from some pretty boy's neck and admiring her jewel-covered fingers. This just wasn't her day.
Connor wasn't aware of Tabby's presence as he walked past the alley, but he obviously hadn't learned his lesson when it came to wandering the streets alone at night. He was well-armed, so perhaps that was an improvement, and he was sober, but he was still alone, and on a quiet street.
It wasn't like he got attacked everyday, though.
He would always have the scars that vampire inflicted upon him, but that was something he was slowly coming to terms with. He could deal with them, particularly the ones on his back because he didn't have to look at them everyday. People didn't see them often, either, so they weren't all that bad. In fact, it was only those he called lovers that would see and ask about any of them other than the ones on his wrists. Since he hadn't exactly been doing a whole lot of sleeping around lately, that wasn't too big of a deal. Just Jezebel, and she hadn't really reacted as badly as she could have.
Tabby, as usual, was so wrapped up in her own plights that she nearly missed her old pet walking right by her. She reconized the smell, however, and it was the pull of that familiarity which pulled her head up and had her looking around the corner down the street. Sure enough, there went that familiar head of beautiful blonde hair; she could even recognize her own handiwork, despite how they had tried to put it all to rights. It made her angry to see that, actually. How dare they destroy her- her ART? How dare anyone mess with what was hers?
With that spark of indignant anger in mind, Tabitha left the alley and stalked after her Pet (because he was still hers, no matter where he went or how he messed with her mark) down the nearly empty street. Stupid of him, to be alone like this, but it served her purpose. Tabby recalled Malachi's lessons on Pet punishment, and it seemed a fitting idea for this situation. Pets couldn't be allowed to think they could get away with disobeying their Mistresses.
Slinking up behind Connor, Tabby put on her friendliest, most innocent girly smile. In one fluid movement, she wrapped both her arms around his left one and asked sweetly, "Hello, pretty. Missed me?"
He reacted instantly to being grabbed, but just as quickly halted in the instinctual 'escape and fight' actions. He frowned down at the woman, immediately recognizing her, but finding the way she grabbed him and her 'nickname' to be...unusual. And how did she escape the vampires? He hadn't heard her running, but he'd been distracted, so he could have missed that.
"How did you get away? When I told you to run, they attacked too quickly, you couldn't have escaped." He knew better. How could she have done it? Unless they just hadn't been interested in her? Had they been stalking him from the start? Maybe. Too many maybes.
Tabitha gave him a confused frown. Escaped? They? When had he told her to run? Then she realized he was talking to the persona she'd adopted at their initial meeting, and she could have cackled out loud. Oh sweet, ignorant little man. He had no idea who she was, that it was Tabitha he had to thank for the haircut and lovely designs drawn all over his back! Speaking of which...
Continuing to smile sweetly, Tabitha touched a hand to his hair, examining the growth of it since she'd ripped it from its roots. "You're certainly healing nicely," she said, slipping a hand down to his wrist to rub her thumb against his bare skin. "I'm sorry we had to be so rough, but there nothing else for it. But why did you cut your pretty hair?" She frowned. "I liked it."
Alright, he'd been suspicious before, but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt because she might just be an innocent young woman. Now, he knew better, and proved it by jerking out of her grip rather suddenly.
He didn't have anything to say to her words, but then, what could he say? Anything that sprang to mind sounded incredibly cliched, and that wasn't his style. Besides, he didn't see the reason to talk. Just killing her was fine with him. He showed that by drawing his gun in the same movement as pulling away from her. He fired as soon as the weapon had been raised.
Tabby yelped when he jerked away, angered by his audacity. How dare he! Her anger quickly turned to alarm when the gun was turned on her, and she barely managed to twist out of the bullet's path. Barely; it grazed her stomach, leaving a bloody red line through her beautiful white skin and new black shirt. The wound stung. It infuriated her. She curled her lip, glaring at him maliciously. In retaliation she reached for his gun hand, grabbing his wrist with one hand and backhanding him across the face, intending to scratch him with her nails. "That wasn't nice, PET," she hissed. "I've had a bad week, and I'm in no mood for your sass."
She moved so fast, something that he was of course prepared for, considering she was a vampire, but he couldn't match it. There was a reason that he didn't take vampires on in such a close situation, and that was because as good as he was, he was still only human. It was better to handle vampires from a distance. That wasn't happening here, though.
He pulled the trigger instantly when she grabbed his wrist, his intent being to catch her wherever he could, and though he tried to jerk out of her way, he wasn't going anywhere. Those nails of hers didn't cause as much damage to his face as she may have intended, though he felt the sudden, brutal pain of the blow through his entire head. The nails themselves had a more...damaging target, if not intentional.
Two of her nails slashed across his face in a surprisingly crisp line---directly over his eyes. He was instantly bleeding from the bridge of his nose and near his temples, but it was his eyes that were the issue. The agony exploded from them the moment her hand entered his vision, and he squeezed them shut in a belated effort to protect them as well as an instinctual action against the pain. He fired off another shot with his gun, unable to see where he was aiming, and could only pray that it would find its mark.
God, please help...
Tabby was pleased by the damage her hit had done. Seeing those lovely ribbons of blood running down his face made her want to pull him back to the alley and lick it up. The happy thought went away a second later when the gun went off again, catching her straight through the shoulder. She hissed, releasing him and stepping back; a mistake. The shot after that went into her gut.
Tabitha had never been so seriously injured before, not as a vampire or a human, and had had no idea how much it could hurt. It bled horribly and she looked at it with equal horror. She didn't know much about vampires, despite having been one for ten years, and had no idea she was in little danger of dying. She put a hand over the wound in her stomach and backed up again, biting her lip against whimpers of pain. "How dare you," she managed piteously. "That HURT. I'm going to make you pay so much..." As soon as she stopped bleeding.
His entire world right then consisted of a hot wetness where his eyes were, the agony of the injury, and the sounds of her whimpering and pain. That was what he had to hang onto, not the rest. He could feel the hot blood, his blood running down his cheeks like bloodied tears, but that wasn't what he had to focus on. Her pain was what was important, and making it more. He had that favor to return, especially if he intended to live.
"Keep talking," he told her, hoping she'd take that as an order and start ranting at him about it. He couldn't see her, so he had to go by her voice. "Tell me how you're going to make me pay, leech."
He'd missed the chance to shoot at her with her last rant, mostly because he'd actually screamed with the pain of the injury she'd inflicted upon him, and then because he'd had to recover his bearings. He had to keep himself from thinking about what she'd done. He wasn't blind. He couldn't think about that. He needed to kill her or escape, preferably the first, and he had to keep himself from thinking about his eyes if he was going to do that.
Tabitha played beautifullly into the provocation. Her lip curled, and she hugged her stomach (it was beginning to hurt less already, perhaps she was just going numb) while leaning over to hiss at him. "Don't call me names, Pet." She kicked his leg. "I'll sew your lips shut. After I eat out your eyes." A low, pained breath. "Or perhaps I'll make you eat them, after I pull them out and mash them in a bowl."
She took another step towards him, kicking him again and then grinding the heel of her shoe into his toes. Maybe she broke bones, maybe she didn't, but with vampire strength she was pushing enough that it ought to hurt. "You don't get it, do you? You're mine. MINE. You have to do what I tell you. None of this waving weapons around and calling me names. None of this running away." She pressed harder on his foot. "I should smash your toes and grind up your feet. Would you like that, Pet?"
He didn't want to give her the chance to do anything much, but she kicked him and he hadn't expected it, so he actually hissed with pain and had to worry about righting himself. He had to wonder if her threat about his eyes actually mattered at all, given the fact that they were already a mess, but he wasn't going to let it get that far. The second kick wasn't expected either, but he was slightly more prepared for it, following the sound of her voice in his mind, locating her and where she'd be in all liklihood with each new moment.
He hissed again when she started grinding her heel into his feet, and actually did the last thing anyone would have expected. He reached out for her, grasping at her as though she were his only lifeline in the world. Only with his free hand, of course. The other remained down and out of sight. She wasn't very smart as far as he knew, so he was hoping the 'out of sight, out of mind' thing would work.
"No, I wouldn't like it, please don't!" he begged, laying it on thick. "No more running away, I promise!"
He just needed her to stay close enough to him that he could get her in the heart.
Tabitha flinched when he grabbed her, not having expected it. She was about to yank herself away (because ew, ew, EW, he was covered in blood and she didn't want it on her SHIRT) when he blurted out his apology. It didn't do away with all of her anger, but it turned the boil into a simmer. Well, at least he was learning something. Took him a while.
"There's a good Pet," Tabby smiled, crouching down to nearly eye-level. "I'd be sad if you left me. I've missed you so much while you were gone, you don't even know. You wouldn't want to make me sad, would you? After I made you so pretty." His perfect hair had been shortened and redone all wrong, but she could fix it. She could fix everything, if he just accepted her as Mistress and gave her the chance. Tabitha could be a good Mistress, and Connor could be her perfect Pet. Malachi had mentioned a place called Midnight. Tabby had heard of it before, in passing, and upon the old vampire's elaboration she had found it to be the most heavenly place in existance. A place where vampires were worshiped by humans. Tabby could get used to such a place.
"We'll go to Midnight, have you heard of it? It sounds ever so nice. I'll take care of you there, and we'll always be together. Just wait and see." By now the pain in her stomach had faded completely, and if she had checked she would have noticed she was no longer bleeding. Her shoulder was fine, as well. It didn't twinge the slightest bit when she reached up and wiped some of the blood from his face and licked it off her finger.
Oh, this one was cracked. Absolutely off her rocker, and mentioning Midnight? Really, she honestly thought she'd be able to take the Leader of the Crimson Hunters' Guild into Midnight as a pet? Not happening. He led her to believe it was, though that was a little easier thought than done, especially when he flinched as she touched his face to wipe some blood away, but he heard her lick her finger. That was his target, all of a sudden. That little action of hers had decided it for him. That was the very last time she'd taste his blood.
His gun, which for whatever reason she hadn't taken from him, whipped up rather suddenly to impact under her chin, the muzzle striking her even as he pulled the trigger.
Tabby would have been offended to know that her Pet thought she had a few screws loose. But she wasn't a mind reader, and didn't pay much attention to subtle (or obvious) hints that didn't fit in with her reality. She was convinced that her Pet wanted to repent for how he'd spoken to her, how little appreciation he had shown for the attention she paid him. Already there were images in her head of the harem of golden-haired mortals she would accumulate when she finally reached Midnight, how she would finally live the life she deserved.
The Hunter's gun hitting her chin caught her by surprise. She had time enough for a gasp of suprise, a flicker of rage at having been betrayed again- and then she collapsed, the entrance and exit wounds on her head both bleeding darkly on the pavement.
((*removes hat, bows head* Here lies Tabby. She was off her rocker.))
There is something unmistakable about the sound of a bullet tearing through a skull, especially where it exited. The top of her head had to have exploded in a mess of blood, brains and skull fragments, but it wasn't a sight he'd be able to take in. Instead, he ran his hand over her foul body after she'd hit the ground, trying to find the spot on her chest where her heart lay. Once he was certain he'd located it, he pressed the barrel of his gun against her chest and pulled the trigger once more. He wasn't going to leave a job like this only half-done.
Then, he reached into his coat for his cell phone, dialing as best as he could from memory and by feel. It took him three tries, but he finally got it to ring, and he could only hope that he had the right number.
When he heard the voice at the other end, he actually sighed in relief before passing on the information he needed to. "It's Connor. That vampire jumped me again, so there's a nice, gory mess here that I need a hand taking care of. Get here fast." And then, he passed on the address, as far as he knew, anyway. It involved the street name and the last actual establishment he could name. He was confident that he'd be found.
"Yeah?" Adrian answered, seeing Connor's name on the display. "What's up?"
"It's Connor. That vampire jumped me again, so there's a nice, gory mess here that I need a hand taking care of. Get here fast."
Adrian blinked. That was somewhere mid-NewYork. No wonder he needed help. Fortunately, it wasn't too far away from where he was.
"I'll be right there," he responded before hanging up. Connor would be able to hold out until Adrian was there, he had no doubt about it. After all, Connor was the guild leader.
Hopping into his car, he then pressed the speed limits to get to the location Connor'd mentioned. It didn't take him many minutes, fortunately, but he didn't see Connor anywhere in sight. It was no surprise, of course. A vampire wasn't too likely to attack someone in plain sight, unless the vampire in question was really stupid.
However, the scent of blood was -- to his nose -- heavy in the air, and so he followed it to its source, parking his car temporarily outside the alley.
He was expecting to see a lot of vampiric blood, and of course some of Connor's since he could smell it in the air, but he still wasn't ready for what he found. Quite dead vampire, shot close-up, and a guild leader with his entire face covered in blood. Originating from... Dear gods. No wonder he'd needed help.
"Connor," he said, to let the other know who was there if he hadn't figured it out yet. "Do you want to leave that mess here, or should we cover it up better?"
He tactfully didn't mention Connor's injury. They were both aware of it, and the less it was spoken of, the better.
~~*~~
Good post? Something needing to be edited?
((Tis fine!))
Once he'd called Adrian, Connor just had to wait and hope that nobody happened to stop in and interfere. Fortunately, nobody did, and he finally just leaned back on the cool brick wall of the alley, his head absolutely throbbing. He kept his eyelids closed for the time being, hoping somewhere in his mind that it might help (while the rest of his mind completely pretended that nothing was seriously wrong at all), and just put his thoughts to coping with the fact that he hurt. A lot.
He flinched when Ade spoke, having not been able to hear him coming. The werewolf tread pretty lightly for being such a big guy, and Connor was just a little on edge. Just a little. He recovered quickly though, looking toward the man's voice despite his inability to see him.
"It would probably be best to cover it up as much as possible, considering how bad it looks," he said, the pun in his statement not lost on him. He just ignored it. He could assume how it looked from past experience and the fact that he knew he made a couple of big holes in that vampire. "But, I won't complain if you don't want to, since I don't know how helpful I'll be."
Adrian nodded to himself. He wasn't really expecting Connor to be able to help much anyway.
"Just hold on for a little bit, then," he said, and then proceeded to clean up the alley as best as he could. Then he held out his hand to Connor. "All done. Coming?" he asked before actually reaching out to touch the other hunter. He didn't want to be a target of Connor's instincts right now.
"Anywhere in particular you want to go?" he then inquired as he led Connor to the car, opening the door for him so he'd hear where it was.
He hated that he couldn't help, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do as he was. He couldn't see, and he actually was in enough pain to make any attempts at helping him may have tried completely useless. Until you've had your eyes messed up, you have no idea how badly it hurt.
He let Ade lead him to the car without an argument or even an attempt on his own part of making his own way, not even caring. He was about at his limit. "Doctor. One that can keep it quiet and drug me into oblivion for awhile," he managed, leaning back in the seat. "Ade, this can't get out, or I'm dead."
"I know," Adrian replied quietly as he got into the car as well. He was already going through the possibilities. Someone with enough scrouples to keep it under the tables, yet honourable enough not to sell them out to anyone who asked.
"Hold still, please," he asked, leaning over to look at the damage. Seeing the extent of it, he winced. It was not good. He sat back into his own seat and started the car. Connor was going to need magical treatment if he was ever going to regain his vision. He knew there were a couple of witches -- Macht or otherwise -- with healing talents who worked for SingleEarth, and they'd take Connor in. The problem was how many would find out.
The other option, one Adrian was hesitant to even think of, since he'd heard less good things about it as well, was a certain voodoo priest who had more talent than your average voodooist. But as he'd heard, it was a bit like making a deal with the devil.
Adrian would do it, though. For Connor.
"SingleEarth or semi-illegal?" he therefore asked, letting Connor make the decision.
~~*~~
If you dunwan him to think of Papa, just tell me and I'll edit and have them go to SE instead ;)
He did actually hold still when Adrian told him to, and even with everything going on, he didn't miss that wince. Lovely. "That bad, huh?" he asked, though the light tone he usually used when he was speaking of his own injuries was far too strained to actually do its job.
"Hell, Ade, I don't care if you scare the living shit out of Doctor Mitchell to keep him from telling," he sighed, trusting the fact that at least he trusted Mitchell. As far as Single Earth was concerned, he wasn't so fond of the idea of a vampire or something poking and prodding at him without him knowing that's what it was.
Adrian blinked. Mitchell? That was the option he hadn't considered. Mostly because he always dealt with hunters and they might run into the wrong person. And that was why going to him was not really practical.
Well, like they said... If the mountain can't come to Muhammad, Muhammad has to go to the mountain.
Setting course for his New York apartment, he picked up his phone and one-handedly dialled Mitchell's office number.
"Hey, it's Infusco. Yeah, that's it. You terribly busy? Ah. Well, that is going to have to wait. I need you to get over to my place, ASAP. No, I can't come in. You'll have to deal with it there."
Ignoring the doctor's grumbling, he gave the address.
"And please hurry. I'm serious."
With that, he hung up.
"You'll stay with me for a few days," he informed Connor. No, he wasn't giving his 'pack leader' much of an option. His duty was to take care of Connor, and he couldn't do that unless they were in a relatively controlled environment.
If he'd been in an even slightly better condition, Connor might have argued with Adrian telling him where he was staying, but right then he really didn't care. Besides, he saw the logic in that, even if it would be a great big red light that he was missing from the guild. He'd have to take some time to recuperate, then figure out how to make his appearance at the Guild without tipping people off.
Somehow though, it still hadn't all sunk in. He didn't want to think about this as anything more than a temporary situation, especially before the doctor did his thing. Thinking about it wouldn't help right now.
"He's probably at Onyx, arguing with Verde," Connor commented, smirking some despite everything. If that was the case, then the grumbling would be all for show. He'd seen Verde and Mitchell argue often enough that he found the image amusing.
"Most probably, yes," Adrian replied, having also seen those two together often enough to recognize the symptoms. "Which should mean he should be happy to get out of there," he reasoned further.
Entering the underground garage under the apartment complex he lived in, he quickly found his spot and parked the car.
Getting out, he walked around the car to assist Connor in doing the same -- as much as the other hunter would accept his help, of course. Locking the car, he then took a light grip on Connor's elbow.
"The elevator's this way," he commented, leading his alpha that way. "Four inch sidewalk edge," he said when they came up to it, warning Connor enough so he shouldn't stumble.
To say the least, the next few hours were less than enjoyable for Connor, but they ended with him getting a nice, long nap.
***Timeskip***
Connor was still staying with Ade, though he had a habit of wandering around when the man wasn't around, and he'd stopped in at the Guild a few times. He'd seen what he thought was his last of Capri, he'd gotten his cell smashed against the wall by the same woman, and he'd ended up stopping off at his own apartment for awhile. Ade had inevitably gone and convinced him to stay here for awhile longer, though.
Today, he was at Ade's, trying to cook something for himself. He was doing fairly well.
Coming home after talking to Papa Aristide and Diana, Adrian was relieved to find that Connor was, indeed, at home. He wouldn't have put it past the leader of Crimson to throw caution to the winds and go out.
The only problem was that he was in the kitchen. Cooking. Unless, of course, he had someone else here, but Adrian would have been able to smell them.
"Connor?" he called, warning the leader of who'd stepped through the door. "We're going to have to take a little trip. After dinner. Want me to help you with something?"
He'd heard the door open and nearly cut himself trying to grab a nearby knife, but he somehow avoided yet another injury. It was only Ade, anyway. "In here, Adrian!" he called, letting the man know where he was, though he doubted a wolf wouldn't be able to figure out where he was.
"Sure, you wanna help cook something up?" he asked, though he did want to do what he could. He was tired of feeling useless.
Adrian came into the kitchen, smiling a little at Connor -- despite the older hunter not being able to see it.
"Of course," he replied. "What are you making?"
Glancing over Connor's doings, he then stepped in where the most help seemed to be needed; cutting and measuring.
"It's looking good so far."
"Pasta," he informed the other man with a bit of an apologetic smile. "It's easy enough, I figure."
Really, it didn't require sight in the least, so it worked for him. All he had to do was listen for the boiling water, and taste the sauce to make sure it was spiced right. Finding the spices was what had been interesting, but he'd used a jaw of sauce he'd found in Adrian's cabinet. Fortunately, Ragu had a fairly distinctively shaped jar. "Should be almost done. What's this 'trip'?"
Here came the tricky part.
"I've found a healer who might be able to restore your sight. We've got an appointment today."
It wasn't too much of a lie, was it?
Helping Connor with the rest of the cooking -- while trying not to make Connor feel like a cripple -- and cleaning up after, he then set the table and served them both.
"It's good," he commented halfway through his plate. "I think I'll put you on kitchen detail more often." The last was said with a grin.
He frowned at the mention of a healer who could actually do anything about his sight, not really so confident that such a thing was even possible. Hadn't Mitchell said that there were no witches who could manage it?
But he'd found one.
Connor was almost afraid to hope everything was going to be fine, especially since he'd actually gotten to the point where he was coping better. "As long as you do clean-up detail, I don't mind cooking," he agreed lightly, catching the humor in the other hunter's voice and working with it, even if he wanted to ask more about this healer.
"That's a fair deal, I guess," Adrian replied with a smile.
After they'd both finished eating, Adrian didn't bother with washing the plates. He could do that later. Right now, Connor's eyes were more important.
"Ready to go, then?" he asked cheerfully, putting on his coat. He was trying really hard not to think about what Connor would say when he realized where they were going, not to mention about what Papa Aristide would demand of him.
Just as he did that, his cell phone rang. Diana. It had to be.
"Yes?"
"We're on our way over," Diana's voice said on the other end. "Come on down."
"Of course. We'll be there in five minutes, ten at the most."
After all, he couldn't predict the traffic. Diana hang up without saying anything more, and part of him felt... hurt. As if she was angry with him, which she wasn't really. It was just business, the way it should be right now.
"Come on then, Connor," he told his friend, cheering himself up.
Who had Adrian been talking to? Who else was in on this? "Adrian, where are we going? Doc Mitchell said that there were no witches who could heal this," he pointed out, feeling just suspicious enough to worry. He didn't trust supernaturals as a general rule, and though Adrian was usually an exception there, he didn't know anything about this 'healer'.
"Who was that on the phone?" More than likely, it was the healer, but he didn't know that, nor did he know who the healer was supposed to be.
"A friend of mine, who offered to help me with a detail," Adrian replied. "The healer needed some additional components that I didn't have time to get, so Diana did that for me."
He looked at Connor.
"Are you sure he didn't just say that there were no Macht or Triste witches? This one's not of our kind."
And with that, he opened the door, indicating with that sound that it was time to leave.
He didn't respond at first, simply thinking about it all for a moment. What other sorts of witches were there, other than Macht or Triste? Really, he wasn't sure of a Triste would have been able to do the job, though they'd been unable to hunt one down. They weren't exactly the easiest to find.
He started moving towards the door, using his hands to avoid furniture on the way, but he still wasn't so sure about this. "If it's not a Triste or Macht, then what kind of witch is it?"
When he reached the door, he immediately felt around for the cane he'd been using to avoid running into things on the street and sidewalks.