Change is inevitable

Change is Constant

-Benjamin Disraeli

22 May, 2014

Alfred had to duck to avoid the phone book aimed at his head with remarkable accuracy. He grimaced when he saw the dent left in the motel wall. That was going to go on his credit card after checkout. Wonderful.

"Look, sis, I just wanted you to come out here with me." He pleaded his case while still crouched behind the far side of the queen-sized bed, his hands white-knuckled in the ugly 'My-Grandma-Wouldn't-Even-Buy-This' quilt. This was no time for letting his guard down. Not with the blonde bombshell itching to go off near the door, stance wide and all kinds of ready to bury him out behind the shoddy establishment at that very moment.

"They told me you were in a car wreck." Amelia seethed, looking down upon the scum of the earth shivering near the floor. Her southern accent pronounced as she berated him. "You had a random stranger call and tell me you were dying." She looked ready to carry that prediction out now. You couldn't blame her for not using the caller ID, she had been a bit preoccupied at the time. When an unfamiliar voice calls and tells her that the only flesh and blood she gives a damn about anymore is slowly bleeding out on a hospital gurney in the middle of Mount Sinai Emergency, a girl has other things on her mind. Like where her keys are and the quickest path from Dallas to New York City via a monster two wheeled powerhouse. Who knew you could make the drive in just around eighteen hours if you broke every traffic law and made a few bad moral choices? Strangely enough, the roads had been fairly clear all the way up, not that she had really been complaining.

Alfred, in fact, knew exactly what had been said. He'd been standing off to the side, after all, fighting between the urge to laugh or take the phone back and apologize for the cruel joke. However, he really felt his sister needed a break and when he met her at the hospital entrance, smile wide and perfectly fine, he told her that. He'd hoped her relief would have negated any following bad consequences. The way she stayed quiet until they made it inside his cheap motel in what could only be considered the 'projects' of East Harlem should have been an immediate red flag.

He had originally tried to take his twin along with him on his 'Amazing Road-Trip Across America, Boo-Yah' from the get-go but she didn't want to have any part in it, citing that her new job wouldn't allow for her to take such a long leave just a few weeks after being hired. Alfred had just packed up and taken off, deciding his college fund was just collecting dust and the twenty two year old needed one last hoorah before he tossed himself out in the working world as well. He didn't know how his sister managed to take both business classes and hold a part-time at the local diner. He knew she hated it anyway, so why didn't she just quit?

Honestly, he didn't get her and he currently didn't have time to, not with a ragged King James Version on a collision course for his unprotected face. He ducked, getting clipped by the corner just above his left temple. Yelping, he hit the ground with a thud, groaning more from knocking all the air from himself than the small brush with his scalp.

"They said you flipped you truck six times…and I get here to find it's just a faulty alternator?" She let out a breathy laugh that held no hint of amusement. "You're a real fucking piece of work."

Alfred mumbled something incoherent, struggling to peek over the bed before attempting to speak again. "I couldn't get ya out here any other way. You needed to chillax, 'Milly."

She gave him a dark look. "No. I need a drink." With that, she made to leave only to hear panicked rustling behind her.

"Whoa. It's like eight. Sun's down and we aren't in Texas anymore." Alfred warned, looking concerned. It was kind of his fault he had picked one of the worst areas to set up shop while his truck was getting repaired.

"And I'm not sixteen, mother." She hissed back, creating an unpleasant ambience.

He flinched, recognizing that tone of voice. "'Well at least don't do anything stupid, like go home with some drunk guy at the bar."

Amelia flashed him a quick 'catch me if you can' grin before slamming the door behind her.

23 May, 2014

When she woke up the next morning, all she could do was steeple her fingers and silently pat herself on the back. Well, the at least it wasn't some drunk guy from the bar.

Oh yes. Now cue the sudden screech of terror and 'morning after' regret.

"Fuck. I thought you were done screamin', Sugar-Tits." A New York dialect groaned from beside her.

With the agility of a three legged dog on ice, Amelia scrambled from the bed, falling onto the floor and grabbing for as much of the duvet as she could to make herself decent.

A tanned redhead sat up, looking down at her with his oddly colored eyes, brow cocked, with a mixed expression of amusement and confusion. He was far from concerned about modesty as he didn't try to catch the cover when it began to slip off, dangerously close to giving to full exposure.

Amelia, on the other hand, was nearly in shut down mode. She was making small inhuman noises as she tried to pull herself together. So she had taken the bartender home. Wait that wasn't correct. He had taken her home. She vaguely remembered him being the only one brave enough to approach her after she dumped a longneck over the head of an obsessive patron. After that, they had struck up conversation. She told him her drunken sob story and they had bonded over siblings, he had said something about a wayward sister in Vegas; bikes, he had recently crashed his and had yet to replace it for some reason that was currently fuzzy to her; and there was something else, but her mind was blanking, probably to preserve what little dignity she had left. Oh and the fact that they had screwed like rabbits in Spring. That could be called bonding too, right?

Shit. What was his name again? Allen? Aaron? Alex!

"You alright there?" Amelia was snapped out of her daydreaming and self-shaming. She had to give him a point or two for being concerned. Though the fact that he was lighting a cigarette was a little cliché.

"Yea. I-" She started, grabbing for her discarded shirt.

"-Good. Then you can show yourself out." He interrupted, speaking fairly clearly and forcefully for having a cancer stick lodged between his lips.

Amelia's jaw dropped slower than the New Year's Ball as she tried to comprehend what she had been just been told. "What?"

Puffing out a plume of smoke, Alex gave her a patronizing look. "You-" He pointed at her. "can walk-" Here he made a walking motion with two fingers. "yourself the hell out." Pointed towards the open bedroom door.

Searching for an ash tray, he never saw it coming.

Amelia wasn't proud of what she did. However that only applied to the events that shall not be named that had occurred the night before. What she had done that morning were some of her proudest moments in recent history. Sure she had a few bruises of her own, but she had aimed that clock so well and the way it had shattered…an art form.

It had taken a few hours of backtracking, but she finally found her bike. It jogged a few memories when she stepped into the gas station parking lot where she had left it. Across the street sat the dark and lifeless bar that she had been so attracted to the night before and now just looked like a pile of shit. That could have been a comparison for a certain someone as well. Growling through her teeth, Amelia quickly went into the small store, purchasing a couple of bottles of Gatorade before kicking off angrily and put-putting her way back to the motel where her wonderful and kind broth-

"Amelia Eleanor Jones!" Alfred's voice boomed as soon as he swung the door open. He was ready to jump down her throat and crawl back up it until he saw her disheveled appearance and the slight discoloration on her lower jaw. His frenzy changed frequency. Mother-dearest suddenly went into Big-Brother Mode.

And Amelia wasn't having it at all. Shoving past the fretting hulk of a blond, she flopped herself on his bed, not even bothering with the blankets and blindly setting one of the drinks she had brought on the nightstand. There was white noise that sounded something like bitching from a distressed American, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to try and pinpoint it.

Alfred, however, had other plans. He grabbed her shoulder, easily rolling her onto her back to have her face him. He was alarmed and she was going to talk-…or not. The look she was giving him made him retract his hand like it had been burned and it probably would have been if he kept it there.

"Let me sleep or I'll take your lil' peepee and shove it down your food hole…" She slurred sleepily, rolling over onto her stomach, shoving her face into the pillows. So she was twelve. Sue her. She wasn't going to talk about her brother's dick right now.

He had left her alone only because she seemed so tired. It had nothing to do with her threats or the probability of her going through with it. The fact that she disliked children did not come in and play on his fear of not being able to produce what would be her nieces and nephews. Not at all.

"We're talkin' later." He huffed with finality, sitting back in the rickety desk chair with his portable game system, ready for a long wait. Amelia just made a non-committal noise as she fell asleep before the sound even finished coming from her mouth.

They never spoke about it. Three days, they stayed in nearly complete silence, locked away from everything. Alfred was going stir crazy, having beat many of his games already, but he wasn't leaving his sister who had grown sullen and as dark as the shiner that had appeared soon after she had woken up. Each time he'd ask her about it, all he got in return for his efforts was a harsh glare. He really wished he had his truck done about now. They were living on take out and stale air. The American Dream.

In the few times they had spoken afterward, Amelia had agreed to stay and 'relax' until Alfred's truck was finished. Then they would head their separate ways. Amelia back to Dallas to try and see if she still had a job and Alfred off to Detroit to continue his exploration of his native land. Originally he was going out to Jersey, but some sort of viral epidemic was going on last time he checked the news stations, nearly a week ago, so he figured it best to avoid that area. In fact, Detroit would probably be his last stop as he had heard about some real heavy stuff coming out of the West coast. Of course, you couldn't believe some of the things social networking was putting up. If CNN just said to just stay inside if possible, it couldn't have been that big of a deal.

So when a call came in over a week later saying that he could pick up his truck the next day, Amelia suddenly brightened and, in turn, so did he. She was ready to put this overrated city in her rearview. She made plans to fill up her old Harley and then let Alfred 'show her the sights', or at least a few, before she headed out the following morning. It had been quiet around the neighborhood, at least for the northern Manhattan area, which was a boon compared to the shots they had heard fired off the night after her little rendezvous. Probably a gang war or something from the sounds of it and the way people had been acting jumpy and making themselves scarce. You'd almost think a hurricane was coming from the way quite a few of them just packed up and left the area which put the twins more than a little one edge, not sure how this whole thing worked, but if locals were pulling out for short vacations, they would be best to get on their way as well before, as her brother so elegantly put it, 'this city turns into Tupac versus Biggy'.

30 May, 2014

Alfred was bouncing behind her when they pulled up to the gas station, jabbering on about all the places he knew in the city as if he were a local. Amelia ended up sending him inside to grab a few drinks to put in the saddle bags. It was still dark outside and the man was already full of energy. Amelia, the earlier riser she was, didn't understand how either. She hadn't even let him get his coffee yet.

"Yea. What do ya want? I can-…shit…" He pursed his lips as soon as the swear was out of his mouth.

"What? Leave your hair-straightener on at home?" Amelia snarked, not too concerned as she ran her card.

Alfred barked out a fake laugh. "No. I didn't pay for the room before we left." They still needed somewhere to crash for one more night and he still had things in there.

Giving him a sour look for a moment, she rolled her eyes. Well that was one more stop they would have to make. She just waved him off, trying to get done as soon as possible. It was early enough that there was no one crowding the around the pumps. While there was a tiny bit of city noise in the distance, she found a space between apartments, trying to peacefully watch the sun rise through the never-ending haze. It wasn't a Texas morning, but it would have to do. Still, it was ruined a bit by the bar in her peripheral vision. She had to give it the finger out of principle.

She didn't get much of a view anyway before she had to pay attention to what she was doing. With a full tank, all she needed was Alfred to get his sorry- Wait…how long had he been inside for now? Was it that hard to grab two cokes and a Snickers? Did he seriously get lost in a building about as big as a trailer house?

And the morning had started off so well too…

The moment Amelia stepped into the store, something deep inside of her was screaming at her to run, causing goose-bumps to run up her arms and neck. It was silly really. There was nothing out of the usual except for the fact that there was no body to be seen. No customers. No cashier. No Alfred.

"Cute. C'mon this ain't funny anymore." She huffed, stepping away from the door, heading towards the restroom. This place was a bit of a mess now that she was walking through it. A few isles had products knocked onto the floor or streaks of filth from an unwashed floor. Wrinkling her nose, she tried to ignore the state of the store, Amelia raised her first to knock on the bathroom door. "Alf-" She was cut off by a hand covering her mouth and an arm wrapping around and pulling her back hard against someone's chest.

Adrenaline and panic kicked in, leaving her to lash out against the restraint. Her voice was muffled and her arms were trapped, but she wasn't going down in the god forsaken hell-hole of a city without a good ol' fashioned ass hopping' to whoever this person was.

It only took a solid thirty seconds for her to comprehend her aggressor wasn't being aggressive. Taking a deep breath, she got a head full of Axe and dust, something of motor exhaust and she realized a voice chanting a name in her ear. Blue eyes went up and met the frightened expression of-

"Alfred?" She whispered against his hand going lax. Something in the way he looked just put her on edge.

He released his hand from her mouth, still keeping a tight grip around her midsection, putting a finger to his lips as he stared straight at the door. Moving cautiously, he opened it, keeping his hand on the knob as he finished turning to keep it from making a noise.

Amelia raised an eyebrow at the show of delicacy, her gaze going from his face to where he was now looking with a horrified expression.

Oh. He had found the same freckled faced cashier whom she had purchased Gatorade from about a week prior. Seemed he was a little busy having heart taken out by some woman in a tight shirt, skinny jeans, and cheekbones so high, they cut through her skin.

Every word of that was literal.

Maybe this was a bad time.

With as much delicacy as he had used to open it, Alfred closed the door, looking more than a little pale, not that his sister was in much better shape. Both of them seemed to take a short breath at the same time before doing the logical thing.

They ran.

"What the ever-living fuck was that?" Amelia asked in a higher than usual pitch, breathless after the two blocks that they had managed to traverse in what could probably have been a record time.

Alfred shook his head, just as breathless as she, but looking a little worse for wear. "She was eating him." And with that, he lost yesterday's dinner behind a barber shop on the edge of East Harlem. Amelia nearly followed suit, gagging a bit but managing to hold on to it.

About a minute in and Alfred managed to reign in his dry heaving, back flat against the cool brick building as he caught his breath again.

"So…" Amelia tried, not exactly sure what would constitute proper conversation after that. "...was that what you wanted to show me?"

There was a moment of silence, before both of them started in with morbid nervous laughter.

"I-I think we should…call the police" He got out in his frenzied state of shock.

Amelia just nodded along, not trusting herself to speak again just yet. There was also the fact that her phone had been missing since one certain night. That was a secret she was taking to the grave.

So Alfred made the call, and Alfred got a busy signal. Twice. Three times.

Furrowing his brow, he pulled his cell away from his face, staring at the device as it played. Since when did emergency services have automated messages? Was this a sick joke?

"Son of a-"

"Oh …hell." Amelia said breathily, wide-eyed, looking just over his shoulder.

Alfred whipped around, almost wishing he hadn't. He never did do well seeing people with mutilated faces and missing portions of their jaws outside of video games. Something about free hanging skin just never sat right in his stomach. Taking a step back, he understood now.

"…National State of Emergency. If you are receiving this message, please keep all doors and windows securely locked. Keep all pets and children inside. Do not try to confront or assist anyone with injuries or physical deformations at this time. Most states to the West of the Rockies, extending south and north of the borders have been placed under Military Governance. Do not attempt travel to these areas. States to the East should be on High Alert. Please prepare precautions at this time. This is a prerecorded message that will play on all government emergency systems…."

For my darling MissAmeriko who wanted this on paper. Hope you wish to break my heart ;;

Blackbird Song by Lee Dewyze.

Characters are based off Hidekaz Himaruya's designs. Portrayals are based off individual Cosplayers.