So the second chapter is up! Er...I tend to get a little graphic when it comes to violence, blood and gore, so...you have been warned.

Enjoy!

Valerie leaned over the railing, her eyes watching the Thames, but not really seeing. She didn't want to wait, to unnecessarily drag it out, but suddenly, even though her stubborn mind refused to admit it, she was feeling a little afraid. No, no, afraid is not the word. What was it? Apprehensive. Yes, apprehensive.

Her fingers carelessly drummed along the metal of the railing, almost unmindful of their owner's mental state. It was lovely summer, and yet, her entire body felt numb from apprehension.

Yep. Need to be more drunk for this.

She remembered about the crate of Vodka she kept in her apartment, for times of emergency, and without wasting another moment of her time, she spun on her heels, and made straight for her apartment, her hair bouncing mildly at the motion, her hands deeply buried in the pockets of her trench.

Only a pair of emerald green eyes watched her motion.

"This must feel new."

Valerie's head spun so fast, that the bones in her neck, for a moment, felt like they would snap. She blinked at what she saw, strongly believing that it was a part of her Vodka-drinking daze.

The man she had met earlier, the one with the shiny, buckled shoes, was leaning on the opposite wall, eyeing her. There was something in his eyes that Valerie hadn't noticed before, the last time that she saw him, her mind too preoccupied. This time she did.

There was curiosity.

"You." Valerie tried to sound stern, but large swigs of Vodka was keeping her from that. She was struggling to keep her voice from trembling, and it really just came out as a sign of being surprised. A little afraid too, perhaps.

"It is I." he said, a little…amused, perhaps? "Are you surprised?" he asked.

Valerie jumped up. Her right hand went up so fast that it was hard to believe that it was her hand, and not some fragment of a lightning bolt. Her left hand, however, was stashed deep in the pockets of her coat.

"Get out of my flat." She snarled like a rabid dog. Valerie still didn't sound so intimidating. However, the weapon in her hand certainly would do the trick. She held a fully loaded Beretta in her hand, and no matter how much her voice trembled, her eyes blazed with a cool, intense anger that would burn anybody who dared to set his eyes on hers.

"Anger never makes you take wise decisions, Miss Goldstein." the man tilted his head on one side. "You will regret if your decisions are made on the most basic of the human emotions."

"Get out of my bloody flat!" she took one step towards him. Her voice was dangerously close to breaking point. "Get out of my flat, or, or, I WILL SHOOT YOU IN COLD BLOOD!" she howled, completely devoid of all self-control.

"Oh, but you see, you really should not do it." the man now took a step towards her too. "Because, as I have said before, I have some proposals that I think will be beneficiary for both of us. Not to mention, very fun." he added with a snicker.

When he moved, Valerie had fired from her Beretta. However, the moment her hand had touched the trigger, there was something strange, something unusual. The man swirled in his spot, and it seemed like, he crossed the entire lengths of the room in one tenth of a second. He reappeared in front of Valerie the same moment he swirled in his spot, and calmly put his hand on the barrel.

She knew that she had fired the shot and she heard the reassuring, usual, 'blop' of the silencer. But she didn't see the bullet. The man had put his hand down on the barrel, and the shot was supposed to pierce through his hand, leaving his entire palm into one bloody mess.

Only it didn't.

He looked down to the barrel of the gun, with a plain bored expression. When he pulled away his hand, he was holding the bullet in his long, fingers, raising it up for his inspection.

"Human weapons." he said. "They do not hurt me."

There was a choking sound from Valerie's direction. He looked up, now chuckling lightly, and glint of mischief evident in his eyes. But, then he saw her, and his smile disappeared.

Valerie was shivering insanely. Her forehead was covered with sweat beads, her fingers were clasped so tight around the gun that her knuckles had turned white. And, there was a growing scarlet red spot visible on the surface of her grey coat, where she had stashed in her left hand.

Blood. Pretty blood.

He now frowned, a little surprised by this new spectacle. "Well, now this is just unsettling." he muttered. Valerie stared at him, and there was just one plain expression in her eyes. Resignation.

Then, she collapsed on the spot she was standing, making a loud 'thud' as she landed. She was now shaking violently, and made no attempt to hide the blood mark on her coat. She pulled out her hand, and let it fall down on the ground, beside her, like a lifeless piece of flesh. It was the sight of the hand that left him a little…unnerved.

There was one single gash in her wrist, so deep, so severe that the white of the bones were visible. It was a neat cut, made by one mighty stash of the knife on the soft flesh of her hand. Blood gushed out of the wound freely, consuming the entirety of her palm, her fingers, and the floor surrounding the hand. While her body convulsed from the pain, and the blood loss, her hand just…lied there, almost seeming alien to the body it was attached to.

Blood was everywhere. The man frowned more deeply now, kneeling on one of his knees, to observe her. Her convulsions got gradually less violent, her body becoming weaker by the severe blood loss, and she was gasping for air, her lips white with the effort.

Without talking, he took her hand. Valerie whimpered feebly, her body barely making a move now. Her head had lolled on one side, and her shoulders were slumped in an unnatural way, her breathing now coming in wheezes.

Death. That is what the fool has chosen. So cowardly, pathetic excuse of an escape.

He firmly grasped her severed wrist, and placed his thumb over the gash. He felt the warmth of her flesh, on his own skin, and the ticklish feeling of dripping blood, and, again, was a little bit nauseated, tinged with a bit of…pity? How preposterous.

He murmured something, in an inaudible whisper, his thumb gently moving over her cut. Valerie's breathing had quietened down, but she hadn't passed out yet. There was now a pale greyish tinge to her pupils, as her eyes were set on his face, though he doubted how much of the sight her mind actually registered, because every time he looked back at her, he was faced with just blank hanging orbs of fading green, and slowly fading breathes.

Golden mist erupted from the point of his thumb, engulfing her wrist, just like the scarlet of the blood had done moments before. They danced, the waves of mist, over her severed wrist, coiling around again and again until it had formed a firm bandage of golden mist over her deep gash, until the cut was not visible. Then, with another eruption, a larger, mightier eruption of gold, the magical bandage was gone, taking the scarlet libation with them, and leaving a clean, healed wrist.

Except a scar. A deep rooted scar, stretching across her wrist, white in its shade, a reminder of the previous gory spectacle.

Scars do not heal.

He got up from his kneeling position, leaving her hand to be, on the ground. His magic have worked perfectly on her wrist. Her arm, which had been looking white with blood loss, now shot to colour, and her fingers twitched with the new senses.

"It will be probably wise to discuss the prospects later, when you are…more stable." he said disdainfully, and turned back, leaving a near unconscious Valerie on the floor. She shall heal. "Have a good night, Miss Goldstein."

"You think you can save me?"

He spun back on his feet, a sudden alertness flooding his mind. Her voice was alarming, nothing like he had ever heard. She was speaking in an unnaturally high pitched voice, shrill, and far from humanly. He, for the first time since he had been here, felt a little apprehensive.

Valerie's lips moved again, but no sound came out, for a while. Then, she took a deep breath, and fixed her eyes on his alert face. It was probably his imagination, but he thought he saw a strange yellow tinge to her green eyes.

"You really think you can save me? Me, who was doomed to bring her own destruction? Me, who would rather cut out her own heart in half than to speak aloud? NO! NO!" she howled wildly, and then erupted into dark peals of laughter. "I choose my choices, don't you see? IT WAS NEVER ENOUGH FOR ME!" her voice, despite its unnatural sound, sounded near close to pleading. "So I chose to be a monster, then I chose to be a killer, and then I chose to be a plain destructive weapon!" her voice became shrill again. "A weapon, a weapon that kills you, softly, silently, and, and…" she gulped. "Beautifully." she dropped to mere whispers as she spoke, a loving hiss in her voice. Her hands moved freely, and a dreamy, vague smile jumped up on her eight bloody pieces than be enslaved." she whispered, her words slowly fading now. "I would rather, rather…I would bloody…."

And then, the unthinking happened.

She shrieked, her voice cutting through the air, and rattling him till his bones. Her screams seemed to have a life of their own, jumping up and down, up and down, in their free, wild motion. Her hands flapped, her entire body jolted with a motion of a fish taken out of water. Then, as suddenly it started, it quietened down. Valerie's body slumped backwards, and now, truly passed out in the oblivion, her breathing returned to a normal, rhythmic motion.