{Jolted awake by the absence of momentum...the motion of the hearse and the engine's vibrations had lulled me to sleep, fuck knows how long for, but now the silence is that of the dead, a stillness so profound I can hear my own heart beating. Lids flipping open on diamond irises, pupils accommodating to the gloom, the silk lining of the casket cool against my face, the air drawn into my lungs is musty with age and I find myself staring up at an old timber beamed ceiling, it's gnarly worm-holed wood and cobwebs gradually coming into sharp focus, gloved fingers curled over the lip of the open coffin, shitkickers thrown over the edge to plant in the rough dirt floor...I know this place, true. A garage in the Brotherhood Mansion, rarely visited, save by the doggen. Darius' macabre collection of pine boxes gave everybody the heebs and fuck, looking down on Tory, laid out in her own polished wood coffin, black satin framing her face like a Gothic princess from some dark fairy tale...my blood runs cold. Leaning down to Tory's face, her breath a hot reassurance of life against my mouth, gloved knuckles stroking down Tory's jaw, goatee a velvet brush to her skin as I plant a tender kiss on her lips, words a graveled whisper} Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty...
*Swimming up through the dark erotic clouds of a dream that had me bathed in silk and covered in the muscled weight of V...the brushing rasp of goatee dragging me up, seeking the press of V's lips before his words draw me to the surface of my dreams and I wake to....dark, dank and gloomy...emerald eyes skip past V in a brow furrowed confusion, eyeing the wisps of web hanging from the swiss cheese effect wooden beams supporting the ceiling...gripping V's outstretched palm, my hand closes around leather, freed from my casket with a shudder as booted feet meet hard packed dirt floor, invisible fingers creeping down my spine in a cool sweep* Where the hell are we? *A dungeon, a cave, a...burial site? Holy fuck, are they coffins? Packed into the space, dozens, maybe more, lined up, laid down, interspersed with the morbid canopic jars of our enemies, inky black hearts nestled up close to hard mahogany and paler, less fancy wood, older, cracked, the insects working at the boundaries to crumble the lids in and destroy whoever was inside...ancient and decrepit, the place is hardly a good showcase for anyone's nearest and dearest, a mildewed space reigned over by giant spiders and the soul catching spun silk of hanging webs, tickling my cheek, my throat, lining ebony hair with the dusty threads of arachnid chains....my body shudders, a full on shiver of disgust as exploring fingers get tangled up in worn silk, slipped from the rotted wood side of a casket, the toe of my boot nudging a jar to roll its macabre contents in a glassy clink through the dank silence...ew...fetching the jar, held gingerly in my hands...always hated these things, my voice is a whisper, no waking the dead on my watch* You finally decided to kill me then? *scuffing dirt floor, eyes locked on the heart* Where are we? This place is...weird
A basement garage at the Brotherhood mansion...{eyes watching Tory as she wends her way around the gruesome scene} It's creepy true..sixteen coffins..Darius brought them with him from the Old Country...never had the chance to ask him what, or who, they were before he...{the words trail off...this place already reeks of death, last thing I need is to dwell on my brother's...gloved fingers trailing idly through the thick dust blanketing the lid of one casket, wondering how this level of housekeeping sits with Fritz's OCD, must be a damn good reason for him to stay away, true. A raised plaque in the centre of the lid draws my attention, a circular sweep of my hand revealing an emblem..} FUCK!!!.. {my hand jerks away on reflex as though I'd touched a white hot branding iron, lids flaring wide, heart turning to cold stone in my chest cavity, the carved insignia hits like a kick to the stomach.. identical in its markings to the shield worn on the breastplate of a wraith from my past, a massive, brutal male, a male whose savage leadership struck terror into the hearts of lessers and warriors alike...staggering back on a growled curse} FUCK!!
*My heart thumped wildly against my ribs as a quick startled jump and spin has my body dropped into a crouch, the jar a missile of gory contents, inky liquid sloshing the blackened heart to bounce against the glass before it shatters on an impact that explodes the grim solution in a water bomb effect on the top corner of a coffin...the coffin V is cursing at* What the fuck?!! *eyes anime wide and darkened in confusion and a faint tread of fear...I am creeping myself out, my imagination in overdrive, so much so that it had taken only a loud sound to send my body into defense mode, ready to battle the zombies I watched on a daily basis with the freaklings. With adrenaline coursing tremors over goose-bumped flesh, my nose crinkles up, hands reaching tentatively to gather up the fragments of razor bloodstained glass, kicking small pieces under the coffin as emerald lasers check V for injury* nallum did it hit you?
No!! Tory!! {my reaction is lightning quick, a reflex, a honed instinct to keep the evil contents of the shattered jar the fuck away from Tory. Lunging for the gelatinous mass of black tissue as it slithers over the casket in a black, oily slick...but I'm unhinged, freaked the fuck out by that crest, and I over-reach, my gloved hand, fisting the lesser heart falls heavily, punching down through the lid of the coffin, splintering the ancient, brittle timbers, the jagged edges tearing gouges into the skin of my forearm, searing pain singing out from the deep gashes, blood welling crimson, slicking down over my gloved hand into the cavity of the casket, a hiss and snarl of revulsion quickly replaced by a whole lot of WHAT THE FUCK!!! as the lesser heart in my palm begins to radiate heat and then the oily, slithery muscle starts beating in my fucking fingers...} FuckfuckFUCK!! {dropping the hot, slimy pulsating mass like it's a nuclear fucking warhead, jagged splinters of wood snagging the sleeve of my leathers as I frantically fight to jerk my arm free from the cavity of the casket} Oh GOD!! Get the hell away from here!! Run Tory.... fucking RUN!!...
*Run? Fuck I would but my feet are rooted to the dirt floor, eyes locked, hypnotised by the horror spitting violent, erratic beams of a light a shade below sunlight, darker, like seeing the luminous shafts through the dark murk of a pond, buried in the depths of darkness, light is a blessing, but this? This is the glow of Dhund, a shadowy illumination bursting forth from the dust-cleared crest, sliding lucent fingers through the decaying slats of the casket, growing brighter, as though stretching the bars of a jail and leaking flashes of dark light into the mausoleum we are currently in* V....*Cant tear my gaze away, cant make my legs move, cant shift the fear weighing me down or the morbid fascination holding me pinned to observe this terror...and even as the lid starts up a tremble, writhing and bucking, splintering wood with fierce punches of a sparking ooze...I cant move...bathed in a sunlight only ever seen in hell*
{Finally jerking my arm free of the timbers, staggering back on the heels of my shitkickers, shielding Tory with the bulk of my frame as best I can, eyes peeled wide at the unholy shafts of light shooting from the caskets, staring down at the black slick on my glowing palm in disbelief, my own blood oozing scarlet, the two liquids repelling one another as oil and water, forming like beads of mercury, skittering away, as though the blood itself knew this was a forbidden, monstrous thing....The word coming out an a hoarse tight-throated whisper} Reanimation... {Evil distilled... this was the Omega's realm of dark arts that contravened the laws of nature and the species.. abominable acts documented in the Chronicles of the race, the ritual requiring three things: something of the Omega's, fresh blood and a source of electrical energy such as a harnessed lightning bolt....such as my curse... fuck.. A cold sweat breaking on my skin, transfixed by horror as the splintered coffin lid is pushed aside and a humongous pair of spiked boots are thrown over the lip of the pine box, my feet taking root in the ground, eyes glued to those fucking boots.. scenes replaying in my head.. a feeble pre-trans, scrabbling in the dirt, on the receiving end of their cruel blows.. gaze like a lead weight on a pulley rising up the mammoth male form looming before me.. swallowing against a parched throat.. The Bloodletter.. my father.. rumored to be the biggest MOFO ever born to the race...and three centuries had not diminished that presence.. hulking warrior frame, thick black beard...and fuck...those eyes...evil as the soulless pits of Dhunhd, no whites or pupils, solid, deep blood red, heart thumping between my ears, paralyzed by terror...His voice is a rolling thunderclap that jolts my spine rigid <<YOU!!!! Dare you stand before me, BOY? I branded you with the blooded hand of banishment. Know you the punishment for such insolence?>> Fuck, I feel dwarfed, transported back to a time when my very existence was at the mercy of this evil sonofabitch who calls himself my father...dimly aware of shuffling movement around me... my arms and legs are grabbed from behind...fuck...where is Tory?...struggling against the iron lock of multiple arms, snarling, wrenching in their grip as the Bloodletter's left hand comes up, an iron fist in a barbed silver glove, and as the barbs punch deep into my gut with the power of a fucking battering ram, forcing the air from my lungs on an agonized cry, I recognize that glove as the opposite half to the one in the tomb, except where that was the instrument of honor, this, its sinister counterpart, delivered the ancient brand of cowardice. My knees buckle, hitting the dirt hard, aided by a heavy boot connecting soundly on the back of one thigh <<Stand, worm. Or think you I should bow to the worthless?>> {the Bloodletter's words are backed by a chorus of cackles and clapping from the undead minions gathered round eagerly to witness the sport of my humiliation. Diamond eyes fixed on the dirt floor..blind rage simmering, swelling in my chest, any temptation to stay down squashed by fear for Tory's safety...Tory would fight, and the Bloodletter did not distinguish between fighting and fucking. He made no allowances for females' size or weakness...Tory would fight and she would die...Hauling back to my feet, pain twisting in my gut, bile rising bitter in my chest, breathing like a horse ridden hard, forcing my eyes to lift to the face of my tormentor, sweat beading on his upper lip, nostrils flaring, those blood red eyes lighting up in recognition of the traitorous bonding scent bleeding from my pores, cunning and amusement lacing cold words as he turns that malevolent gaze on Tory... NO!!! Fuck please no...}
<<This female? She is yours?>>*Giant hands bruise my face in an iron and skin grip, wrenching my jaw up, the distance closed too damn fast for me to comprehend, warriors slithered from the coffins like disgusting worms to band surprisingly corporeal arms around mine, an effective chain of evil wrapping me up in the stench of death and rancid malevolence...Before his touch my body had been hot with wrath, a fury of bonded female fighting to stop the heavy hitting, organ rupturing blows dealt to V by a male I had seen only in the storybooks my father had left out...but every step I managed to get, freeing myself from this chain gang of blood-eyed warriors, was snatched away, my strength stolen by a winding blow to the base of my spine, a yank on the ends of my hair wrenching at my scalp and dragging me into the arms of males twice my size and three times my weight. Hell...this is hell...watching the male you love tormented by a monstrous mammoth of a warrior, tortured by the new reality of a past that still haunts and hurts, spitting up memories I'd glimpsed in the safety of V's dreams...but these males were far too real, far too solid, with the bulbous girth of the one at my back sinking around my curves, the flabby jello of his stomach threatening to suck me into a quicksand of aroused fat, a prodding short stub of something ground through layers of blubber to my ass...I am hissing with rage, with the acrid scent of fear pouring from my skin masked by the malodorous stench of sixteen blood-lusting, fight hungry sexed up males...it is a despairing, frantically desperate fight jerking my body as I am forced to watch the Bloodletter with V...but V is no longer the interest, and ice replaces the heat of anger, an arctic fear that no fronting, or rancid scent can disguise as metal gauntlet wraps the slender column of my throat in a hold that would leave ivory skin black and blue with terror, free hand...fuck...I know where that hand is going, my body roughly battered into the wall of his chest, so close I can feel the quick, assertive movements freeing him from his breeches, the masculine arrogance bleeding with sweat to my skin, the Old Language a murmured threat of violation in my ear, loud enough to incite excited roars that echo a mad reverberation of horrific enthusiasm around the small space...my snarls ripping out, I can only hope V isnt made to watch*
FUCKERS!! {bucking wildy in the grip of so many holds, rage quickening my body, roiling in my blood, twisting into a tight knot of wrath that courses through me, feeling myself light up, skin growing heated with that supernatural glow...and with it comes a glimmer of hope...the Bloodletter's bloody, calculating gaze turning back to gauge my reaction, Tory flung back into the fat clutches of a male I recognize as Grodht...fuck...the male I'd bested and violated in front of all these warriors...my father gets right up in my grille...God he smells of the Camp, the firesmoke and sweat, the rotting carcasses and excrement and blood...his face contorted into a demonic sneer} <<Think you your little parlor tricks will protect you and your bitch? Think again, worm. Your witchcraft and sorcery are futile against me>> {a huge meaty fist clamps around my glowing arm...and absolutely NOTHING happens...FUCK!!!} <<Do you give this female to me, my son?>> {A feeling of strangulation locking around my throat, sure as if my father's huge hands were wrapped around my neck, his words running cold as the malicious cunning, deep as his muscle was thick. I knew the truth, a brutal lesson viciously beaten home in countless times and ways. My father would destroy anything and anyone I cleaved to for comfort...no choice but to deny my own soul...a small part of me dying inside, lids closing on crystalline eyes as I utter the terrible lie} I do. Tory is nothing to me {The Bloodletter pauses, a low grunt escaping his throat} <<Yes... hmm. You know, perhaps I shall not like to take her after all. Perhaps I should prefer to see you finish her. A token proof of your filial loyalty>> {the Bloodletter's huge hand manacles my wrist, the heavy hilt of a blade pressed into my palm, Tory pushed roughly forward to train the lethal point on her hammering jugular} <<Use my dagger, boy. Or I will have you take your whore's place tonight in the pit>> {Fucking gladly I would take her place...the tortured gaze that locks onto Tory's eyes is a silent apology, a declaration of eternal love, a goodbye...the dagger falls from my trembling hand, a resounding confession clattering to the dirt} <<NO, I thought not...take her, soldiers mine, and let us have our sport with this female>>
NO! *The tense silence poised on the end of V's blade is broken by the rumbling death sentence...or maybe a fate worse than death as the warriors leap into a motion of eager hands, tearing, slicing, blades cutting into flesh as they strip my top in any way they can to a chorus of snarling snapping female jaws, a battle I cannot win, but will not concede to, no fucking surrender, my nails rake at eyeballs, my elbows, my knees, fists, feet pounding into hard muscle and wobbly guts, fangs locking behind ears and ripping flesh in gag-inducing, dry retching assaults that leave me more broken than triumphant, my blood staining more than theirs...but at least I have both of my eyes and both of my ears...fractures running through my knuckles, splits rendering bone useless in my forearms, like punching concrete with fangs, I am outnumbered and outweighed...a lightweight in a ring of heavyweight champs, darting and biting through the monoliths of muscle, speed is mine, but a vice-grip to the nape of my neck has me dangling before Jabba the Hutt like a puppy, biting with baby teeth through layers of fat, and getting goddamned nowhere...he laughs, the sound accented with a dangerous amusement, laced through with lethal threat, a blood coloured hand, crimson, mine, not his, brutally gripping the rounds of my ass and massaging a leering, marking circle to bleeding flesh...scratches, breaks, my squirming, contorting attempts to free myself only writhe me to his touch and he shakes me, a ragdoll teeth clattering motion of triumph parading me in front of V with crazy pupil-less red eyes...lifting slow lidded, tear-pooling emeralds to meet the tortured diamond of V's gaze, he is my sanity in a world that viciously pushes me to my knees, clutching scraps of material to my chest as booted feet pin my hands to dirt floor and Jabba grinds blubber once more to the thankfully still leather clad curves of my ass, my lips can shape only three words through dry sobs of helpless terror, a retching failure of disgusting weakness forced to the floor to submit to a pit of malicious warriors in front of V* I love you...
I Love You {Mouthing the words before the Bloodletter clutches my jaw in clawed fingers, wrenching my eyes away from Tory, spittle spattering hot in my face as my father speaks} <<This bastard who calls himself my son has no spine, it appears. Perhaps the seed that his mother's womb ate was of another?>> {the crowd of evil minions is worked up to a bawdy frenzy of jeering, baying for blood like fucking animals, my voice is thready, raw with emotion, struggling to be heard above the raucous crowd} Please, spare Tory. I am fucking begging you. Let. Her. Be. {The vicious strike to my face explodes like a scarlet bouquet of pain} <<So weak you are. You shall never best me, boy. Just as you shall never be free of me. I told you. I rule your life>> {A slash of steel and the front of my shirt is ripped open, the Bloodletter's crimson eyes flaring wide, the blade digging into the circular Brotherhood scar and the carved names of the young encircling it, voice incredulous with taunting laughter <<that soft-brained, lily livered King thought to induct YOU to the Black Dagger Brotherhood? You are a scar, a filthy stain on its honor, my dogs have more mettle>> {the blade's tip cutting bloody strikes through the names of Khaos and Xsykhe} <<And you dare sire young? Abominations that should never have been born. Know that when I am done with you, I shall have them executed. Perhaps Grodht shall like to feast upon their tender flesh, hmmm... and there is one more necessary task, methinks, one I should have long ago finished. Spread wide his legs. I shall do the race a favor and ensure he never procreates again>> {my ankles and thighs are yanked apart, eyes popping, trained on the huge rusted pliers in the Bloodletter's hand, face a mask of horror, opening my mouth to scream as I feel the metal clamp onto my thinnest skin, through the insignificant barrier of my leathers...blinding, spearing pain, tearing flesh...and then my vision and the world recedes to black...}
NO!! MOTHERFUCKER!!! NO!!! *Lunging forwards, off my knees in a second, startling their grip from me with the sudden surge of strength. V's agonised roar shatters my heart and screams in my soul with the tortured cries of ultimate pain...No, please no...I think I'm grovelling, my soul pleading, fighting to stop the Bloodletter's torture despite the hands that pull me back, clawing at my leathers, gouging into my thighs as I am dragged, kicking and screaming back into the circle of lusting males, an animal caught in a trap, a female forced to watch her soul brutalised at the hands of a male he fears...and I would take every violation, every assault, if it would spare him. But that decision is not mine to make...the power totally out of my hands, I am nothing against these males, no matter how much I fight, Jabba's hands still manage to tear through rough hide, splitting the seams of my leathers in one fell swoop, his nails bleeding crescents into ivory bruise blushed thighs and hauling my ass up, the heavy hands of his buddies jacking my shoulders to the floor, securing me, prone, ramrod stiff, listening to the flap of material that signifies flab is being unloaded off flab and his arousal is freed from tough breeches....nononononononononono....the laughter deafening, the jeers a pour of humiliation down tear wet cheeks...the horror rises over me in a wave of abhorrent disgust, my mind pulling the plug on my sentience and plunging me into a silent darkness*
<<Sire...Sire??>> {Fuck, eyes peeled wide, bolting up out of the casket, Fritz's cheery countenance morphed to one of horror as my gloved hand closes a death-grip around the doggen's throat, snarling through fully extended fangs...what the?..SHIT!!..releasing the old male on a curse, his voice stammering with fear, struggling to maintain an air of professionalism as he rearranges his suit} <<I am so terribly sorry to have disturbed your sleep, Master Vishous..I..I..took the liberty of bringing you and Miss Tory fresh clothing and masks for the masquerade ball in celebration of All Hallows' Eve?..your Brothers and their shellans are gathered above, Sire>> {Holy shit, breathing ragged.. hands shooting down between my legs to cup my scarred sac} Fuck Tory? She's ok? <<Why yes, of course Sire, Miss Tory is right here, in the casket beside you...>>
*It's my name that jolts me from the pitch black of a horror my mind is already stealing away with awakening, trying to shield me from a nightmare that was not all my own...emerald eyes flashed wide as my body curves up from the silk lined base of the casket, the fear clamped hand between V's thighs and the instinctive banding of my arms concealing a dream nakedness sharing a remaining adrenaline bath of terror in our separate coffins...fuck....Clambering out on shaky legs, Fritz is standing, a small, old, widely smiling comfort, clothes bundled in his arms and extended with the filigree black metal of an exquisite masquerade mask. Trembling hands reach for the offering of normality, V's arms surrounding my waist, ragged breath breathing the lingering panic of our nightmare to my skin...but before we change, before we head forth into the party that starts above our heads in a flutter of gowns and twinkling lights, I cant fight the compulsion to stroke out tentative fingers to the closest closed casket, discreetly brushing away a deep cover of dust to reveal the crest glittering in a dim light...with V's hand at the small of my back, I obediently move to exit the garage that inspired dreams of hellish memories and I cant help but turn back once..once to catch the dark hellfire glow glittering bright*
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