A/N -- My contribution to the non-existant Jumper fandom, I know I haven't got Griffin completely in character, but I'm working on it. Hopefully you'll like my story, and if you don't, I don't want to know about it yeah? Good xD So have a read, this may turn into a Griffin/OC story, or it may not. This chapter isn't meant to reveal much about my character, but I can tell you she is roughly around 16/17-ish, and I left her name out cause I haven't thought of an original, awesome one yet.

Lol, oh and I rewrote the ending of this chapter, cause I didn't like the previous one. So if you didn't catch it, go back and do it now if you want. It's only a few different sentences, nothing big.

Disclaimer -- Yeah, sure, it's totally mine, I mean, my genius is amazing isn't it? I'm still in school, yet I've managed to come up with this? Oh yeah, I'm just too good for you.

Summary -- JUMPER -- Simple mission- get in- kill paladin scum- get out. But then some careless jumper kid has to go complicate things by getting tortured and now Griffin has to put up with someone who's almost as mental as himself and play bodyguard too.

Eleytheria

…

Chapter One

Life has been planned out since the beginning of time

-- We're just along for the ride

Steam condenses the glass panels enclosing the shower. Inside, the girl stands under a stream of scalding water. A trembling hand is pressed against the glass, keeping her upright. It's like she's in an inferno, her skin is reddened from the blistering heat, and the pain is almost unbearable.

Electricity is coursing through her body; it feels as though she will explode. Tears are sliding down her face, mingling with the saliva that's dribbling from her mouth. The pain is excruciating, she can't focus on anything, she can't bring herself to jump, and she can't force herself to scream anymore, it's all too much. It all hurts too much.

Soaking hair cascades down her back, long black bangs shelter her face from the river of water. Her breathing is ragged, not a single coherent thought is running through her mind. Nothing appears to make sense; everything's passing in a blur. Stinging bullets are pelting her aching form, yet she is oblivious.

The knowledge that she is going to die here is ringing in her head, blocking out all other rational thinking. Mocking laughter washes over her from above as she convulses on the ground, she knows how pathetic she must look. Bile spills from her mouth, down her front, and puddles onto the floor.

Something flickers outside of the shower; she can hardly see it as the shower-screen is too misty. It's faint, and repetitive. Pretty almost, her gaze has locked onto it. It blinks, once, twice, three times. She cocks her head to one side and tries to remember what the odd thing is called. She presses her face against the glass to get a better look.

They're enjoying torturing her, it's written all over their faces. One of them pushes her down into her own vomit. She can't breath; she opens her mouth and tastes her own stomach acid. The laughter is back, the stream of tears continues, except this time they're thicker, and… red? Suddenly everything goes quiet, and then a scream, not her own echoes throughout the abandoned building.

Her brain struggles to process whats she's seeing. Slowly her hand rubs against the glass and clears a space through the fog, she can see the flickering thing clearly now. Something registers within the chaos of her mind, her lips curve upwards as she recognizes the object. A light, that's what it was. There was only one in the small room outside, it was long and looked frail.

The tormentors are yelling, for a brief moment the excruciating pain stops and she is able to focus a little. Not much, but just enough to hear the words 'kill her.' She struggles to get away, but her body won't move. A shadow is advancing now, something long and pointy in its hand. She closes her eyes in terror, so she doesn't see the man appearing before her. But somehow, she feels it, and then the familiar sense of jumping takes over.

A feeling of triumph ignites, but she squishes it down. Shaking her head in a vain attempt to clear it, she turns to stare at the little oval things tucked into a corner on the floor. Leaning down, she picks one up and sniffs it. She pulls back in amazement, it smells nice. She rubs her thumb across it experimentally; a sort of foam appears on her finger. She begins to smile again as she reaches a conclusion. It's soap.

Her back is pressed against something solid. Crouching down in front of her is a man, he looks a little scruffy. As the blurriness recedes, she vaguely notices him grinning, although it looks like he's just baring his teeth. The words, 'feral' and 'animalistic' surface, and she begins to feel slightly intimidated. So when he takes her hands, places them over her ears and tells her to keep them there, she does.

Her tongue flicks out and catches a few drops of water; she swallows and then reaches for the taps. The water stops abruptly and she stands there blinking, trying to figure out whats wrong with her. Everything is familiar, but she just can't understand. Scratching her sopping wet hair, she pushes the shower door open and steps out. Wondering where she is, she pauses and takes in her surroundings.

He stands with a grunt and pulls off his jacket. Distantly she hears him say something like, "sorry kid, but this is about to get R-rated." With a quick movement, he throws the jacket over her head and her vision goes dark. Every now and again, she hears soft thuds or far away screams. Cringing backwards into the wall, she breathes in and out in a rhythmic pattern, as she tries to calm herself.

She's found the clothes on the floor, they looked clean. They smelled clean, which was strange, because the last time she had clothes on, they were drenched in her own puke. Nothing made sense, confused beyond belief; she reaches for the clothes and tugs them on, before turning towards the door.

Something wet spatters the leather jacket that's draped over her head. She can no longer hear anything. She whimpers when strong arms wrap around her. But then she's jumping again, and the feeling of safety flows through her, rendering everything else blank.

"So you haven't drowned then?" The voice is gruff, with an odd accent that she can't seem to place. The speaker is the man from before; he is sitting in a tatty couch on the other side of the room fiddling with a Playstation controller. His eyes are glued to the television screen, but he looks up when she doesn't respond.

Moments later he snorts and returns his attention to the game he's playing. "We're still not back in the land of the sane yet?"

It was like he didn't expect an answer. That, or he thought she was incapable of giving him one. This, she supposed, was true… to some extent.

"I didn't think so," he mutters, before releasing a menacing growl and throwing the control to the floor, "Bloody game…"

Yawning, he slumps back into the chair and turns his piercing gaze towards her. "How long's it gonna be before I can get rid of ya?" He questions whilst roughly flicking an unruly strand of hair from his eyes.

It's obvious that he's making an effort to be kind. He is clearly the type of man who likes his privacy, and from the many scars adorning his neck and arms, he is someone that you really don't want to mess with.

Briefly she tugs at the sleeves of the oversized jacket she's wearing. The room that she is in is pretty small, the walls are covered in posters of people and buildings, some have X's scribbled on them, while others have vicious obscenities and death threats scrawled across them in permanent marker.

There are weapons leaning up against cabinets, as well as chains, and a flamethrower. A table is sitting dejectedly in the centre of the room surrounded by battered chairs. There is a fridge huddled in the corner - it has clearly seen better days, and a truck by the looks of it. A television and Playstation, a couch, three doors leading out of the room, a bookshelf, lamps, a computer, a body…

A body!

Her breath hitches as she sees the corpse; it's covered in blood and almost unrecognizable. But the suit he's wearing has been imprinted in her memory, an enemy, and… a paladin.

She jumps, on instinct, without thinking.

Pain blossoms through her system as she reappears on the spot, the electricity the bastards had repeatedly shocked her with must have screwed with her nerves, because she couldn't escape. Panic sets in, and she tries to jump again, this time she gets a few feet away but the pain doubles and she shrieks in agony. Spitting out blood, she attempts to jump for a third time, and sends herself into a wall.

A calloused hand wraps around her skinny wrist and drags her away from the solid barrier so she doesn't harm herself any more; another hand grips the front of her jacket and lifts her of her feet.

"Stop," snarls an intimidating voice in her ear, "it." Blood dribbles from the corner of her mouth, and she hyperventilates. The ruffian is glaring at her with such ferocity that she calms down quickly, as not to tempt his wrath any further.

When he is convinced that the danger of her hurling herself into his walls is over, he carefully sets her down on her feet and scruffs her hair, which is still damp.

"Pitiful," he remarks, his expression is one of sadistic amusement.

A crease appears on her forehead, and she sniffs in indignation.

He turns towards the fridge, "really pitiful."

"Griffin."

She looks at him quizzically, and receives an exasperated look in return. They're both playing his Playstation, it's a car racing game. He didn't explain it to her, but he did slow down every now and again so she could catch up.

Her controller vibrates and she realizes that she's just rolled her car, which is quite depressing, because for the first time she was actually doing well.

Setting down her control, she grabs a handful of chips and glances at the man next to her. Slowly realization dawns and her mouth twitches in an unsure smile, because he's just told her his name.

His eyes flick towards her and catches her staring, his entire head snaps around and he frowns, "What?" he growls, although he's perfectly aware that he's not going to get an answer. She on the other hand, is slightly bemused by the fact that he is staring at her, yet he is still winning the game.

Eerie…

"You ever going to speak, kid?" He asks as he sets down his controller and crosses his arms expectantly. "'Cause you've been here for hours and I know you're not mute, 'cause I've heard you scream." He smirks slightly, "and you're not dumb, 'cause you can understand me, and even though you're not one of those fucking problematic girls, you're going to have to leave at some point, preferably sooner, not later."

She shrugs lightly, and his expression darkens slightly.

"You can't stay here," he repeats slowly, "you have to go. Tell me where you live and I'll take you."

She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head.

Suddenly he's in front of her, his face inches from hers, "I'm not a fucking babysitter, I'm not going to protect you, I don't want you here, so tell me where you fucking live or I'm going to drop you right back where I found you, understand?"

Slowly she stands, and glares. Griffin's a foot or so taller than her, but it doesn't stop her from reaching up and grabbing his shirt.

"No," she rasps, her voice quivers nervously and her grip is pathetically weak. He's glowering at her furiously, but she doesn't care.

She isn't going back to the paladins and she isn't going back to them.

Griffin's got this look on his face, it's almost like he's contemplating snapping her wrist in half for grabbing him like that. But it disappears and he's glaring dangerously at her again, this time it's like he's contemplating snapping her neck.

"I'm not afraid of you," she informs him, her voice is hoarse and her throat's dry.

But, of course, she's shit scared of him. Because she's just figured out that this guy isn't just some guy, he's Griffin. A psychopathic paladin killer who destroys anyone who gets in his way, jumper, paladin, civilian, it didn't matter… or so the paladins said.

His hand balls into a fist and he swings, she cringes and her eyes squeeze shut. She feels the rush of air and waits for the inevitable blow…

… That never comes.

She cracks an eyelid, and there is no sign of the offending hand. However, hers is still gripping his shirt and she quickly lets go, only to be shoved back onto the couch roughly.

"Fucking brat," he snarls again, but now he's regarding her oddly. There is something flickering beneath that extremely pissed expression that she can't seem to place. Tapping the couch cushion idly, she leans back and reaches for the television remote, forgiving him for his outrageous behavour in the blink of an eye.

The reason why Griffin almost punches her, is to prove that she is scared of him. We all know Griffin has regular mood swings yeah? One minute he's calm, the next some kind of mental serial killer...

Eleytheria means freedom in latin, just so you know.

Stay tuned for an amazing chapter two... no preview available...

So, anywho, review if you've got the time and you'll recieve a fully functional cyber-Griffin with an amazingly authentic scowl ;)