/[The H|o|m|ewreckers}~ {Chaos/Semper/Sky}

Flight DeRicasho

...
mirrors on the ceiling,
the pink champagne on ice
and she said ’we are all just prisoners here, of our own device’
and in the master’s chambers,
they gathered for the feast
they stab it with their steely knives,
but they just can’t kill the beast
...

Stygian dark contrasts brightly against the blinding sparks that fly off from under my eyelids as they battle for dominance over my vision. They hiss and crackle, making me attempt to flinch after each explosion though my muscles refuse even the slightest twitch. Still, they are muted as if wrapped in cotton, drowning out all the sounds from the real world that lays in wait just outside my own personal bubble. I don't want to go back, not yet. Something tells me I won't like what I see. Fingers attempt to curl and fail; the digits have all gone numb and stiff. My shoulders burn from being held continuously at an awkward angle, but I can't bring myself to care. Everything is just so blurry...


---

With a sigh I let my raven locks tumble down my back, absently raking long fingernails through in the mirror. Though my reflection stares back with brilliant yellow eyes it isn't noticed; my physical form might be here but my mind is miles away. In the land of ominous letters and redheaded girlfriends that are torn between rage and tears. Who do they think they are, practically demanding my co-operation like they own the very ground I walk on? The very thought makes my lips curl back over my teeth and a deep growl begin to rumble in my chest, but it's reluctantly silenced. With a glance out the window, the very first snowflakes are beginning to fall, soon blanketing all of District Nine in a layer of soft white. It will draw the hunters out of hiding and make the blacksmiths that are slowly being incorporated into our way of life let the forges ring hot long after the last blow has been struck.

A shuffling outside the door and I tilt my head, wondering what exactly Trig will be doing now. He still hates me; and to be honest, I hate him. But Kaya insists that I try and be cordial with him, so instead of strangling the boy, we go through day to day barely being held back from each other's throats. Vision steaming over I wipe a hand over the glass, and study my reflection intently. Piercing golden eyes stare back, one clouded and useless but no less intimidating. Sighing, I shake my head again and enter the shower.

---


Yes, that's right. Shower. It was unusually cold, and Kaya was out. I must've stood there for ages before actually climbing in. What happened after? No matter how deep I delve into my mind - perhaps deeper than I'd like - it brings no answers. Internally snarling with frustration I again try to twitch my fingers, heartbeat fluttering wildly as they still won't summon anything more than a phantom movement. God, what happened to me? Why can't I move? My mind is clouded with sleep and something sinisterly familiar, but it eludes me like a drop of oil in a beaker of water. Things grow heavy, the sparks dim, and the world falls away once again.

---

Water pounds against my scalp and lulls me into a sense of false security, allowing the pains and problems of today to wash away. For a moment, I'm pure. Just for a little while, I don't have to think about how somebody is essentially recruiting me for assassinations and thefts, and how my whole essence is screaming to go with the letter and let out the monster. Things like this were never my forte; Kaya always did the intricate thinking when we were young. A small frown marrs my features at the conjured image of her face - she was so torn when I said I agreed. While I don't want to make her unhappy, I know deep in my heart that bad things will happen if I don't let the dark side of me roam free. So caught up in my thoughts, I don't even hear the doorknob twist, only opening my eyes when a floorboards creaks dangerously close to my form.

She shouldn't be back yet, and Trig thinks I'd murder him if he walked in on me in the shower - which I probably would. Slowly grabbing a bar of soap, my cleaved vision roams the shadows of the curtain. Toilet, lights, counter... there! An abnormality, human shaped. Adrenaline begins its confident hum and I spread my feet apart on the slippery basin for balance, bracing one hand against the tiled wall and the other keeping a firm grip on my makeshift weapon. Seconds tick by with almost an audible thunk, and my muscles are pulled into that familiar sensation where I have to wait minutes, hours even, for the prey to exit the house before I make a heist.

No! So close! A wave of white-hot, incoherent fury rolls through me and nothing in particular and it lends me the strength to curl my stiff fingers into fists. Almost crying out from the sudden jolt of agony that streaks through my arm, I bite my tongue hard to swallow the sound and instead work on regaining feeling in my extremities. Legs have been numbed and bound beyond repair until I can physically touch them; so to busy my mind away from this scenario, I instead focus on the fragmented memories that streak to me and attempt to put them in place. There was a fight. Yes, a fight. Lots of shouting. Water and... blood? No, that's not right. Another liquid, whose sticky heat ran through my veins like the high I didn't want.

---

At once, chaos. The room exploded into a cacophany of noise, and I deftly deflect the sudden bulge in the curtain that comes streaking towards me. Still, I couldn't prepare for the other that pops out to the right, and I yelp as something pricks my side and halts when a poorly placed shot makes it hit ribs instead of taut flesh covered with bronze skin. A rush of foreign lava invades my body and a forearm smacks down to remove the offending object, but it's too late. The needle has already deposited its charge; not a single drop remains in holding. Still, with the way it entered, I may have a little more time than usual. Roaring angrily I throw a fist outwards and grin angrily when it connects solidly with what must be a nose. Upon impact the shower curtain crashes, and I'm fully exposed to four men. In their defense, they barely even blink at my towering nakedness.

While the bathroom is cramped and I'm confined to the tub, my swords are never far. Grabbing one I bring the hilt in an arch, smashing it deep into the face of one - the same whose nose I broke - and he goes down. His comrades, undeterred, advance. There's no room to draw it and stab, so I don't stand much of a chance, and they're quickly upon me. I thrash, kick and bite, but the sedative surely slows my frenzied thrashing to a dull twtich and soon enough I can barely move. A force like a hundred hammer strikes to the head ensures that I won't be attempting anything soon, and I'm dragged by the arms outside. Carpet is rough on my bare feet, and my brain registers that we're going down the stairs. Only able to look up once, Trig stares back at me; not making a move to help. In fact... is that triumph I see in his eyes. My glare could burn rock into nothingness before the drugs take over, and I tumble unwillingly into the soulless black.

---

I start awake with a jerk when something impacts my shin hard enough to feel it through the deadened nerves. Jerking my head up despite the agonizing stiffness I feel, my neck makes a series of complicated clicks as I pull my head upright. Not bending my back for fear quite yet, I pull upon my energy reserves - weak though they might be - and gather the strength to open my eyes. At first everything is blurry and out of focus, but slowly shapes make sense and are connected with words in my overloaded mind. Floor. Window. Light. Chair. People. Blood. Blood?

While crimson indeed runs sticky through my mass of now dry hair (god, how long have I been here for?), it's certainly not mine. Dirty light filters down into the disgusting room, bathing us all in shadow. Upon closer inspection it's revealed that there are four of us in total; one of whom's feet don't even touch the floor. Walls are unfinished and damp, lending the air a freezing chill that's almost frigid enough to see your breath in. Slowly straightening my spine and clamping down on the whimper I feel rising, I allow myself to move my neck to the side slightly and try to see who just kicked me. My eyes roll back slightly as a rather nasty knot is discovered in my muscles - these chairs are way too small for me - but I still manage to get her into the sight of my good eye. While her finer details are coated in shadow, it's evident that she's Asian, well-kept, and perhaps just as confused as I am.

From overhead the dim bulb keeps playing tricks on my eyes, grimy glass making me thing shadows are moving when really they're staying still. I know the monster is here; I can feel it lurking, but for now it chooses to remain on the edges of my sanity. Ignoring the burn of searing fire I begin to rotate my wrists gently from their tight bindings, releasing pinched skin and giving some semblance of circulation back into the deprived digits. They tingle and ache, but it's a sure sign that they haven't fallen off or been damaged. Scraping of fabric against my flesh shows that I've been dressed after my unfortunate fight - thank god - though it's ill fitting against my large frame. No shoes, mind you, so I'm free to feel the grimy concrete beneath my skin; cracks in the foundation and dampness, coupled with a strange smooth object that--

Craning my neck, I let out a large breath through my nose when I spot the telltale crimson gleam of my dual scabbards, winking reassuringly in the lowlight. Only now have I realized that our mouths have been duct-taped shut, perhaps to stop from raising the alarm. With my legs loosely bound as they are but still cramped, the nearest sleeping figure is much too far to wake, so I settle with once again swinging my gaze over to the Asian, raising an elegant raven eyebrow in confusion. What's going on?