Title: The Evolution of Ashley Magnus
Author: talkofcake (loveandbullets)
Rating: K+ (for mild violence and language)
Category: action, angst
Spoilers: all the episodes (and webisodes) currently to date; the rest is speculation.
Summary: In the aftermath of her paternal discovery and rising conflicts between her mother and her, Ashley runs away and begins to discover that perhaps her 'killer instincts' aren't the only things she's inherited from her father.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I wouldn't be a dirt poor college student sitting in front of my computer screen, now would I?
A/N: This fic was inspired by an epic dream I had. Thanks to my friends list for encouraging me to put it down in words. A huge thanks to ellymelly for all of her wonderful suggestions and corrections.
The Evolution of Ashley Magnus
By talkofcake
* * * * *
Chapter One
Numbness engorged her body. She didn't feel anything as the emotions attempting to invade her blistered away, leaving her with a vast expanse of nothing.
She liked it that way. Anyone else in her position may have cried, may have blown up in a fury at the people around them, may have known nothing else to do but wallow in self-pity until their head hit the pillow night after night, and even then be haunted then by their remorse in sleep. But Ashley Magnus beat the crap out of things. That was her way of feeling the things she didn't feel and experiencing emotions she wouldn't let herself experience. As her fists collided with the ferocious creature in front of her, she was unbeatable, impenetrable, and resilient. However, with each punch, the inevitable gradually slipped its way past the barriers of her mind and into her heart.
The tenacity and aggression she was fighting with at that very moment—the heartless instinct always to kill the threat in her path—they weren't traits derived from years of discipline and training.
No.
These skills were a constant reminder that she was the offspring of a serial killer, a frightening fact she'd come to know just two days ago.
Sweat trickled down her brow, followed by the mist from the ocean outside. The sound of waves crashing in and out of the cavern was empowering, but her trained ears knew to listen for even the slightest noise that would alert her of her opponent's whereabouts.
Blood seeped from cuts and scratches on the exposed skin of her face, her knuckles were bruised, and by the pain coursing through her with each breath she heaved, she figured she'd broken a rib or two.
An arm swooped out of the darkness as the creature came out of its camouflaged hiding. Giant claws broke through her skin, followed by a blow to her back which sent her falling to the Earth, her breath completely dispelled from her. Upon contact with the ground, she felt her shoulder dislocate. Her mouth gaped, but she resisted the urge to cry out in pain.
She peered into the darkness and caught a relieving glimmer of gold several feet away. Ashley rolled then scrambled towards the object and grasped her gun in hand, quickly lifting it up with her good arm and aiming at the dark haze coming her way. She fired off five rounds in a row, paused and then emptied her magazine when the creature's velocity increased.
The sound of gunfire was followed by the high-pitched clink of shells scattering over the rocky ground, resonating throughout the cavern. The black haze became a tangible body which squealed as her bullets penetrated its grimy exterior. Defeated, it crumpled over and landed atop Ashley. She heaved the creature off of her and laid there, spent of all her energy. Sweat seeped into her open cuts and mingled with blood, causing her to grimace from the sting.
It was then, after the fight and amidst the pain of the sharp rocks bearing into her body from underneath, that Ashley Magnus cried. Her echoing sobs were heard by none other than the caverns around her who could not relay her moment of weakness to the world above.
* * * * *
"Glad to see you're back!" Will called out to the retreating form of his blonde coworker as she made her way towards her room. "Your mom was worried sick," he explained amid a jog. When he finally caught up with her, she had entered her room. "I—"
Will jumped, staring at a slammed door.
"Ashley?" he asked quietly, knocking. "Is everything alright?"
When there was no answer, he turned the handle and warily peered into the dark room. He made out her silhouette in the moonlight, standing in front of the large, barren window.
"Ashley?" he repeated quietly.
"You'd think slamming a door in your face would give you a hint," she mumbled.
He gave a quick chuckle before entering the room. "Locking it would have given me a better hint, but then I've never been able to read people very well," he joked, his degree in criminal psychology a definite testament to his lie.
There was a long moment of silence and he wistfully wished she'd say something but alas, she seemed perfectly content with ignoring him until he decided it best to leave—no doubt her intention.
He took a breath and dared to try again. "Mission not go well?"
"It wasn't a mission."
"Right, you just risk your life for fun, I forgot."
"Will, would you just get the hell out of here…"
He wasn't about to. He knew there was something wrong and wished she would talk about it. She had a lot on her shoulders, with just discovering that the father she thought died long ago was actually a teleporting serial killer who was very much alive.
He came up beside her, making his way cautiously in unfamiliar territory with nothing but the moonlight to guide his way. At one point, he nearly tripped over her gear that she'd sloppily discarded in the middle of the floor.
"You sure get a nice view," was the lame comment he managed from her side, gazing out of the bay window and across the nightlights of the New City.
"Yeah," she murmured.
He glanced over at her and did a double take, instantly greeted by the bruising and cuts across her cheek. She sensed his alarm and instantly turned away.
"Like I said, you should go."
"What happened to you?" he pressed.
"I told you before. I went to kick some monster asses."
"Well, no offense," he continued, following her as she made her way across the room, "but it looks like you got your own ass kicked in the process."
She said nothing, only flicked on a lamp and bent over to pick up her gear and unpack. As soon as she stooped down, pain surged throughout her abdomen, crawling up her chest and into her arm. She doubled over with a groan.
"Hey, easy!" Will exclaimed. He settled his hands onto her arms and guided her to her bed despite her attempts to thwart him off.
"I'm fine!" she said stubbornly.
"No, I don't think you are. Look at you," he said.
He could make out her appearance better in the dim light from the lamp next to her bed. Her face was black and blue and covered in cuts and scratches, some of them pretty deep by the looks of it. She cradled her right arm which Will assumed was broken.
"You really need to have your mom take a look at you."
"What are you nuts?" she cried. "My mom? My mom would freak out, you know that. Plus…"
Ashley trailed off, though Will could guess how that sentence was supposed to end. Standing in front of her, he watched as bitterness flashed over her face at the mention of her mother. While he understood why Helen had chosen to withhold the truth about Ashley's father from her, it was only natural that Ashley couldn't see past the hurt and betrayal. Time could achieve a lot, but Will had a feeling the relationship between mother and daughter would be a bit rocky and riddled with conflict.
"Hey," she said, glancing up at him. "Just don't tell her about me, okay? I can get myself fixed up. I'm a big girl," she said, trying to smile.
Will reluctantly nodded.
She slowly stood up, cringing and pushed Will away when he attempted to help her. "Now, I'm going to take my clothes off so if you want to stay for that…"
"Uh, no…" Will said, a slight blush forming at the base of his neck. He made his way towards the door as Ashley began to unzip her jacket. "And hey?"
"Yeah?"
"Really though, if you want to talk about what you're going through, just let me know. I'm good at listening."
She laughed a little, but stopped as pain flooded through her stomach. "I don't talk. I don't cry. And I certainly don't need a shoulder to lean on, alright?"
"Right," Will said, hand against the doorframe as he nodded. "Well…feel better."
"Thanks, doc," she said sarcastically, peeling off her jacket and cringing when the leather stuck to a flesh wound on her right shoulder.
Will exited and shut the door behind him, shaking his head as he walked down the long hallway. While Ashley was most-likely pondering what traits her father had given her, he couldn't help but smile at the resemblance of personality between mother and daughter. Although Helen's obstinacy was masked by more feminine and refined traits, she had no doubt passed her strong sense of independent self and reserved emotions to her daughter.
Confronting a Magnus about personal things was harder than capturing an elusive abnormal, Will mused.
* *
Ashley made her way towards the shower and started up the hot water, testing its temperature with her hand. When she was sure it was scalding enough, she finished undressing and looked at her appearance in the mirror. She'd never admit it but Will was beyond right. She looked like complete crap. From her scratched up, discolored face to her bruised stomach and gouged shoulder—she looked like she'd been to hell and back.
And maybe she had. The thought crossed her mind when she stepped under the spray and instantly bit her lip to keep from crying as the water cascaded over her beaten body and danced into her open wounds. She was pretty sure that if there even was a hell, where she was right now was close enough.
She leaned her head against the glass wall and stood there for several minutes, wishing that the hot water would scald away everything, however cliché that thought was.
As the steam encompassed her and the water became so hot she lost the feeling in her skin, Ashley felt an emotion rise within her belly that she'd been unable to identify before that moment. She'd often felt it during a mission, when someone's life was in danger at the hand of the enemy. During those times her mind would often drift to the things that made her the most angry, so that way, every time her fist collided with a jaw or a stomach or the bullets from her gun penetrated flesh, she'd slowly melt away that anger.
This time as the anger was rising inside of her, her eyes shot open. It was deeper than anger, much deeper. She'd repressed it for so long that it took her a moment to realize it was hatred. Slowly, she felt her body and mind, even her heart succumbing to its power.
Numbness engorged her body and frightened her with its peace.
* *
Hope you're enjoying this so far! Chapter two will be up shortly. :)
