Hey guys, so I have a million other stories I should be continuing, but I thought it'd be fun to write this. It's in 3rd person, but I usually write in 1st person, so if I switch please tell me! I trying out a different style.
The first time I watched Legion, it scared the crap out of me. I mean, seriously, that kid? Freak-y! I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep for a month! The second time, I realized, it wasn't so bad, and I could totally write a fanfiction for it.
So, I hope you Enjoy it!
Chapter One: What Tessa Sullivan Didn't Need
There were a few things in life that Tessa Sullivan knew with absolute certainty she did not need.
She didn't need a mower. Probably because she lived on the third floor of a crap-tastic apartment complex.
She didn't need bird paper clips. Probably because she hated birds.
She didn't need a self-heating butter knife. Probably because she didn't like butter.
She didn't need a type writer. Probably because in this era, it was just impractical.
She didn't need a submarine/boat combo. Probably because, despite being pretty cool, she lived closer to the freaking desert than any large body of water.
And she certainly didn't need a man to come into her life and fix her, save her, before moving on to the next stimulating activity and probably breaking her damn heart. Because Tessa Sullivan didn't need saving. No sir-ee.
She wasn't some damsel-in-distress-wish-on-a-star-for-a-better-lif e-song-singing-hair-twirling princess who needed a knight in shining armor to swoop in and make everything better. Tessa had made her bed, and now she was lying in it. And if she couldn't hack it, she shouldn't have made the damn bed in the first place.
She knew that.
Sweat and sex clung in the air.
It was an acquired scent.
Strobe lights flashed around the room of the somewhat-shady establishment. A bar lined one wall and there was a long platform stage running through the middle of the room, resembling the shape of a straight-edged tree; the 'trunk' giving way to extending 'branches'. There was also a back area for the more intimate arrangements, and the wealthy clients and patrons. Scantily clad women carried trays of drinks around the room while men gawked up at the stage.
Tessa twirled herself around the pole on stage, her fish-net stocking and ridiculously high-heel clad feet and legs kicking into the air. Men held up cash and she shimmied her way over provocatively. The whale bone of her blood-red and black lacey corset dug into her skin. Her almond-shaped, kohl-rimmed eyes smoldered under lowered lashes, her red painted lips pushed into a teasing pout. Strands of her wildly curling, untamable hair stuck to her forehead.
She swung her hips in tune to the thumping of the music, and on command to cheers, she slowly lowered her skirt. More money was held up.
In the crowd, she saw Tiffany, probably her closest friend, leading a man back towards the private, closed off booths. Spotting Tessa, she threw a wink her way, a devilish smile lifting her lips.
For the rest of her performance, her corset and matching boy-leg underwear stayed on. She wasn't here to take her clothes off for these men. She was here to dance. Albeit, it wasn't what she had in mind when she told her parents she wanted to be a dancer.
She could read the men in the crowd like open books and she was completely in control; you got used to the types who came in, and it became easier to spot them. The guy right in front of her, whose eyes hadn't left the top of corset all night liked to be in control; he liked it too much and he associated violence with sex way too closely. The guy in the corner, nervously twisting the ring on his finger loved his wife and was shit-scared of her finding out about his frequent night trips to the club, but enough to stop coming. The guy at the bar with his mates was actually gay and had the hots for his blonde friend on his right, despite being a partaker in occasional homophobic, gay-putdowns.
"What would your daddy say if he saw you now?" a man leered, his polo shirt slightly disheveled and his eyes glazed. Smashed out of his mind. He looked close to trying to get up on the stage to join her. Which is why bouncers stood around the room, for when patrons got too grabby and over-eager.
"Well…" Tessa pursed her lips, pretending to think, her gut lurching. Yeah, because this was what she wanted to be doing with her damn life. She rolled her hips, dipping low. Maybe she should be ashamed of what she did at night, but she didn't give much of a crap anymore. Tessa was a strong girl; she could take a lot, and she wasn't some sniveling girl who'd curl into a ball and cry when life dealt her a harsh hand. She'd take it in her stride, deal with it and move the fuck on. No one said life was easy; she'd learned that the hard way. You pay for your mistakes. Or, in this case, other's mistakes. But you pay for them.
Five years ago, her parents died in a car crash. A horrible, heart-wrenching, tear-jerking tragedy. Marred only by the fact that they were in the middle of a getaway plan in which they'd attempted to leave Tessa, and her younger brother and sister in the middle of their embezzlement/con plan that went sour. Yeah, some parents. Dealing with her parents deaths was hard enough for a nineteen year old. Throw in two more mouths to feed, both of whom she had no idea how to handle, and then the massive amount of debt her parents owed, and Tessa was way in over her head.
"He'd probably tell me the women in my family only undress for their husbands," Tessa replied truthfully.
Some of the men chuckled, but Tessa was stuck on memory lane.
Either way, they left behind their debt for her to take care of, along with a five-year old and a two-year old. The debt collectors rolled around and they said goodbye to their nice, suburban house, their belongings, and the life they used to know. Tessa had no idea what she was doing. She dropped out of dance school, took up a job that definitely didn't pay enough for the three of them; for clothes, food, their crappy apartment, school fees, and the debt.
That was when Ziggy found her. Ziggy owned the establishment, promised a lot of money, money they desperately needed. At first, she refused. She had more self-respect than that, to sell her body out. But then they came to an arrangement; she could keep two items of clothing on, and she didn't have to give lap dances, or sex to anyone, she could keep any money the men (and sometimes women) handed to her as well as her pay.
Instead, she danced every night, and she had a theme; she was a tease. She started promptly at seven, when the majority of men started piling in. She was a promise of everything they could have, everything to come, but they didn't get to touch her. Ziggy said every good establishment needed an allure, and she was it.
She finished her dance rotation, going back stage to freshen up her make up while other girls went on stage. She headed to the bar, grabbed a tray and began circulating before her next dance. She didn't get very far before hands were on her.
A common occurrence considering where she spent her nights.
What was it with guys? Just because she danced like that didn't mean they had any right to touch her unless she said so. She stepped out of their hands, turning and giving a playful smirk.
"You don't get to touch," she said, her voice lilting.
"I have money," he said.
"You still don't get to touch," she laughed, beginning to weave her way through the crowd, hips swaying. She was there to make sure they tried extra hard to get another girl, to spend money.
The funny thing was, a lot of the girls didn't want to get out of this game, not in the way Tessa did. She was only twenty four and hadn't been on a proper date in five years. How could she when from nine to three she worked at a supermarket, and from seven to two she worked at this club? Her whole life got put on hold, and she doubted it'd change anytime soon.
The guy was persistent, Tessa'd give him that. Sweat covered his face in a sheen, his eyes too small for his round face and his white shirt undone at the top, his tie loosened. Tessa considered him; stuck in a loveless marriage, he came here for obvious reasons and he liked control. As soon as Tessa moved them out of their crappy apartment, she was going back to school, but not for dance. She was past her prime for that. Instead, she was considering psychology. But since the IRS took most of the money she earned from the supermarket, it'd be a while off yet.
"What's your name?" he asked, his eyes stuck on the tops of her breasts.
You'd think they'd have the decency to look you in the eye, but oh no, that would be too polite. Who was she kidding? Guys only came here for one reason, and it wasn't for her dazzling conversational skills.
"Vixen," she said automatically, her fake name given away easily.
"I bet you are," he said lecherously and she had to stop the grimace.
Yeah, and if I didn't have a debt to pay, rent coming up and school fees due, I'd sock you one, she thought irritably.
From the moment a guy walked in, he ceased thinking with his upstairs brain and seemed to think every woman he laid eyes on was there to please him, was his for the taking. She'd seen hundreds of guys just like him walk in with the same expectations.
"I guess you'll never know," She laughed, turning to walk away. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around. That was another thing she didn't need; some jerk getting touchy and who didn't understand the implications of the word 'no'.
"I said I had money," he growled forcefully, clearing taking her rejection personally.
"And I said you don't get to touch," she snarled, dropping the empty tray and grabbing his thumb, twisting it to release his grip. He hissed, drawing his hand away in pain. That one, the girls had taught her, for when a guy like this douche got too hands-on.
"Bitch!"
"Is there a problem here?" A smooth, calm voice cut across and she looked up at Ziggy. His shoulder length brown hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, his broad shoulders bulking, arms crossed across a lean, fit chest. Ziggy was hot; he had the whole, sexy but with an undercurrent of danger thing going for him.
"No," the guy said, eyes narrowing at Ziggy before turning a glare on Tessa. "Nothing." And he walked away.
For a second, there was silence between the two, then Ziggy grinned, "No one can say I don't look after my girls."
"No, I guess they can't say that," She laughed. "But I had it sorted."
"Sure you did."
"I did!" She said, crossing her arms defiantly in a mimicry of his own posture.
"Okay," he said, like he didn't believe her, before turning away and heading off to wherever it was he went when he didn't feel like popping up suddenly and warning off the too-aggressive ones.
Tessa sighed and lifted the tray, hoping her shift would end sooner rather than later.
.
.
.
It was two in the morning when Tessa finished.
She showered in the locker room quickly, swapping her corset and matching panties for a fitted plain shirt and slightly too big khaki pants she came in wearing. Both were from a thrift store. The hot water washed away the sweat and the sickening scent clinging to her skin, reminding her of her night activities.
She signed out, collected her pay, and said goodbye to Ziggy and Tiffany, before exiting out the back door, heading down the twisting alley to her car down further. The alley was a hide-away for a lot of junk, and it always made her uneasy walking past it all. She rummaged around in her large handbag for her keys to her beat up old ford. At this time of night, she liked to be prepared when she got to her car.
Or, she used to think she was prepared. When she looked back up, a guy was suddenly there, a couple meters down from her. Her heartbeat sped up when he stayed where he was, his body turned in her direction. In the dark of the early morning, she couldn't see much about him. He could just be waiting there. But better safe than sorry; she turned around to head back to get Ziggy to walk her to her car.
And stopped dead.
Another guy was at the other end, heading towards her slowly, with carefully measured steps. Threatening steps.
Then panic set in.
She didn't know what to do, and decided to keep walking in the direction of her car; the guy stalking towards her was more menacing then the other, who could just be there by coincidence. A couple steps later, and she knew that wasn't true. He pushed himself off the wall and blocked her way.
Her breathing accelerated as her fingers fumbled for the pepper spray in her bag.
Just as her fingers met the cool metal of the can, a rough hand grabbed her arm. She whirled around, bringing the spray up and aiming it right into his eyes, kicking at his shins at the same time.
His hand drew back more in shock than pain and she turned and ran.
Because his eyes were blacker than the night. And his teeth were filed to points. And it looked fucking real.
Fingers clawed at her back, ripping her shirt and she screamed. Phone, she needed her phone.
She found out it was hard to search in a bag while running for your life.
The guy ahead of her just blocked her way, waiting for her to get to him. A hand wrapped around her upper arm, the momentum swinging her around and slamming her into the brick wall of the alley. She fell to the ground, eyes watering at the pain blasting in her head. She didn't let herself focus on it. She let out a scream to let someone know she was here and she needed help. She doubted anyone heard her.
Her fingers rasped against the concrete ground, shredding her fingers and knuckles as she searched for a weapon, anything to fight back with. Because she wasn't going to just roll over and let shit happen. If she was going to die, she was going to inflict as much damage as she could.
Because this wasn't a mugging, otherwise they would have grabbed her bag and run. They hadn't.
They converged on her and she threw the closest thing to her at them. She heard a crash. No cry of pain, no grunt, no nothing.
"You're all going to burn," he said, but the voice that issued from his mouth was a far cry from normal. It was deep. Dangerous and completely void of emotion. What the fuck were they?
Black eyes peered down at her indifferently. Pointed teeth. A hand grabbed her throat, lifting her up, and her hands flew out, searching for something. Hard, cold metal met her fingers and she wasted no time in swinging it at them, slamming it into their heads.
They left go, and she saw blood. Good to know they bled like a human. Then she heard a yell.
"Tessa, get down!"
She did it, dropping to the ground as she heard a loud crack. A gunshot. And another and another. And there were two bodies beside her. She looked up to see Ziggy running down the alley, and he hauled her up, eyes sweeping over her, "Are you okay?"
"Um…thanks." she had no idea. She had no idea what was going on, because they hadn't been human. They couldn't be. "Did you see...?"
"Their eyes?" That was answer enough. Tessa picked up her bag and keys. They looked at each other before hurrying down the alley that took them to the carpark out on the street further down from the club.
And came across a world gone to hell.
Car alarms were wailing into the air, and there was fire around, people running, screaming, and more of those horrible, emotionless voices. "Fuck."
"Oh my God," she whispered. "What's going on?"
"I don't fucking know," he said. "But I think it's time to fucking go. Get yourself home. Fucking pray."
Tessa wasn't sure about the praying bit; she didn't know if she even believed God was real. But the leaving bit she was all for.
"Going," she said, bolting from the edge of the alley for her car. A second later, she threw it into reverse and pulled out, speeding home. It was the same everywhere. People running for cover. Shots were fired at her car, and she saw more black eyes.
When she made it to their apartment, it was the same there. Fear spiked in her chest, and her fingers shook. She lived in a bad part of town, but this was just crazy. There were gunshots, screaming.
Tessa took the stairs two at a time and unlocked the door. The chain stopped her. "It's me!"
The chain was unlocked and she slammed the door behind her. Arms flew around her, "What's going on?" Amy asked, her blonde hair falling in her brown eyes, which landed on Tessa's forehead. "What happened to your head?"
Tessa frowned, lifting a hand up and feeling dried blood. Probably from when she got slammed into the brick wall.
Dylan grabbed her other side, his substantially smaller frame trying to hold onto Tessa as tightly as his fingers could grip, "I'm scared."
"I don't know what's happening. But we're leaving. Right now. Pack your stuff," she commanded. They didn't move and she couldn't blame them. They didn't know what was happening, what to do. She didn't either; all she knew was that she had to get them away. Far away from the city. Something big was happening and she was going to make sure they were safe. "Go."
They went and so did she, flinging her bedroom door open and grabbing clothes, shoving it into a duffle bag, anything she could grab that would fit. She pulled out a wooden box from under her bed, unlocked it and grabbed out the handgun. It had been her dad's, and in a place like this, it paid to have protection.
She grabbed another bag and went to the kitchen, shoving any food that could last in the heat into it, as well as bottles of water.
Ten minutes later, they were in her car, and Tessa was reversing them out onto the road and heading out of the city, into the Mojave Desert.
She didn't need the freaking end of the world. That, she was absolutely sure of. There weren't enough hours in her day to deal with this shit.
Well...What'd you think?
Continue or not?
