Picking up the Pieces
A/N: This is my first fanfic! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but flames are not; I'm still a beginner.
Disclaimer: I don't own Monsters vs. Aliens. The only thing I own is my OC, and the random club.
Edit: My muse is still being mean and hiding from me, but I'm trying to re-write this whole story. Let me know if you like the changes or not.
Chapter 1
Click! Clack!
Click! Clack!
A tall young woman sighed as she walked the city streets, her high heels hitting the cold pavement in a hurried rhythm. Her long black hair trailed behind her slightly as a result of her brisk pace; her bangs, usually side-swept, hung over her left eye, leaving only one bright-green eye visible. A cool breeze rolled past her, and she willed the urge to shiver away. The young woman glanced briefly at the nighttime sky, her visible eye filled with an anguish that she preferred not to voice. A blink later, she regained her composure and assumed an almost apathetic expression.
Being nighttime, clubs were open and beckoning to potential customers with bright signs and intoxicating beats; the laughter of those who chose to partake of such services was scattered on the air, swelling in volume whenever the young woman walked by those buildings. The scent of hot food and cold drinks was strong, and the troubled woman rubbed her temples to ward off a headache.
She needed to unwind, but she was unsure if she was up to handling the public in a club setting. It wasn't as though she was outrageously famous; sure, a couple of people knew of her considering her line of work, but other than that she preferred to keep a low profile. No, her predicament was that she was very tense, and didn't feel like causing a scene if her temper got the best of her; it would only put her in a worse mood than she was already in.
Still…
Without realizing it, the young woman had paused outside of a large building sporting a simmering red sign. She could feel the vibrations from the music beneath her feet, and the temptation to go inside quickly grew. While the young woman debated, she eyed the intimidating looking bouncers that were stationed outside the double doors. They kept a steady gaze with her, looking neither pleased nor disturbed by her presence. She pressed her lips together, very close to breaking eye contact and walking away, but eventually made her way over to the muscled men. After a flash of ID and an exchange of money, the young woman walked inside.
The first thing she noticed was the large, glossy black dance floor lined with multi-colored lights; it was currently filled with a mass of swaying and stomping bodies. Along the west wall was a long bar that emanated a spicy scent as well as steam from freshly prepared snacks. Booths, tables, and chairs were scattered around the bar and along the edges of the dance floor. Though the young woman admitted to herself that she was a little hungry, she wanted to forget the day's events as quickly as possible; so, she weaved her way into the middle of the dancing crowd.
After a few minutes, the young woman found herself caught up in the hype music. Her movements grew swifter as her previous worries temporarily fled her mind; her hips swayed, her feet smoothly crossed the black tile, her pulse raced. The D.J. began adding his own personal touch to the music, and the new mixes only caused the woman to dance even more. A half-smile even found its way to her lips.
The tempo of the various songs gradually decreased until it was as casual as it was when the young woman first entered the club. She was surprised to learn that a couple of hours had passed, and decided that a break couldn't hurt; maybe she could even grab a quick bite to eat. She began to weave her way off the dance floor, but a hand grabbed her wrist and jerked her back. Shocked and slightly irritated, she turned to face the culprit, but was distracted by a sudden pain in her left leg.
She hissed in pain as something was roughly extracted from her leg, and immediately bent down to gently clutch the wound; an extreme stinging sensation exploded throughout her leg. The green-eyed woman quickly looked up, but whoever had grabbed her was long gone. She glanced around, but it appeared as though the other dancers hadn't noticed the incident; it was evident in the way they continued to laugh and dance around her. She muttered to herself, and made her way off the dance floor as quickly as she was able to.
After asking an employee, the young woman made her way to the restroom. She was grateful to find the area free of any other customers, and bent down to inspect the damage. The wound itself seemed to have been created from a decent-sized needle, was puffy around the edges, purple like a bruise, and had blood trickling from it. She cursed to herself and stood up, grabbing a couple of tissues from a box on the counter and turning on the faucet; the least she could do was clean the wound.
Before she could wet the tissues, a startling dizziness overtook her, and she gripped the edge of the counter with such ferocity that her knuckles turned white. She looked at her reflection in the mirror: her hair hung limply past her shoulders, her bangs were stuck to her face, her brown skin was pale, and her pupils had shrunken to tiny black dots. She started shaking, and nausea clawed at her stomach, causing her to hang her head and stare blankly at the counter.
The young woman could hear her heart beat more rapidly in her ears, and wished that someone would walk in the bathroom at that moment; she severely doubted she had the energy to deal with whatever was happening to her alone. No one walked in. Instead, her grip grew lax, and she felt herself falling; she blacked out before hitting the floor.
She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but that was the least of her problems. When the young woman came to, she slowly opened her eyes, only to find that her vision clouded by black spots. Her skin felt as though it was on fire, and it stung wherever it made contact with the cold floor. As she struggled to get up, a gasp caught her attention, and she slowly lifted her head.
Several women gazed at her, seemingly frozen, and her anger grew. Why would you simply stare at someone who appeared ill? If you weren't going to help them, there was no point in doing such a thing; it just made you look like a jerk. Just as she rose to her feet, the other women screamed and fled the bathroom; the young woman gritted her teeth as the noise made her head pound.
Though she was still a little shaky, at least she was on her feet. The young woman then chose to focus on getting actually help from someone in the club, and slowly walked out of the restroom. Within seconds of her entering the main room, the place exploded into pandemonium: people yelling and rushing to the doors, drinks spilled, chairs and tables overturned, and the D.J. booth abandoned. The young woman had difficulty concentrating, and couldn't figure out what the people were running from.
She continued to stumble across the mostly-deserted dance floor when her ears picked up a metallic sound. When she looked up, as if to contrast her burning skin, the young woman's blood ran cold; her vision hadn't improved, but she could make out one of the bouncer's from before facing her, a silver gun in his hands. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in protest to his actions but it was all in vain.
She heard the shot, and pain exploded in her right ear; she briefly wondered if it had been blown off. A crimson tint was added to her already handicapped sight, and both hands flew to the injured area. The sound of the gun cocking foretold another shot. Without another thought, the young woman ran; the bullet hit the wall behind her. Her need to escape was so great that the young woman didn't even notice that she was running faster than usual. By the time the bouncer turned to shoot again, the only thing left was a trail of blood splatters.
Cheers could be heard all across Paris as the monsters said goodbye. Escargantua had been swiftly dealt with, and precautions had been taken to help prevent another animal from falling in a nuclear reactor again. To top it off, there had been minimal damage to the city, which made the paperwork all the easier for Monger.
As the monsters were making their way to Insectosaurus, the praise grew louder, making it clear that the people didn't want them to leave yet. Link winked at a group of women, and they screamed/fainted in response to his charm. The loveable blob held his precious jello close to his body, excitedly waving to the crowd and basking in his love's silent congratulations. Dr. Cockroach and Ginormica signed autographs for their fans, smiling humbly at the attention.
The gentle butterfly even uttered a soft growl, smiling at those who chose to wave at her. The other monsters finally climbed aboard the waiting butterfly and were about to take off when a familiar large airship hovered into view. It remained in the air, and everyone looked up at it expectantly; a few moments later, Monger's voice boomed out at them via loudspeaker.
"Hold it, monsters! You can't go home just yet; you've got another assignment!"
Susan decided to act as the spokesperson, especially since she was the only one Monger would be able to clearly hear.
"Where to, General?" she asked.
"The outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa. Be prepared for anything!" the general ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Ginormica answered.
The large aircraft took off south, and with a beat of her mighty wings, Insectosaurus followed close behind; after a while, the butterfly took the lead.
"I wonder what we'll encounter in South Africa," Dr. Cockroach mused as the wind blew across his antenna.
"Whatever it is, I can handle it," Link bragged, flexing his muscles.
Dr. Cockroach rolled his eyes while Susan giggled. B.O.B. unintentionally ignored the fish-man as he cuddled with his green girlfriend. Insectosaurus let out an appreciative screech, and put on a burst of speed for the next continent.
