Disclaimer: I only own Emily
Warning: Rated M, for abuse and adult content.
Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice. For my new readers, I hope you enjoy and for those of you who read the old version, I do hope you like this one better. Please let me know.
**This takes place before Red Canyon because otherwise things get far too confusing. So, Enjoy!
**Let me know if it's still Mac enough**
The flames from the fire at the Luna mesa, lit the night sky with a warm, orange glow. Step one of her plan was really more of a way to flip Walter the ultimate bird. It would be the 'screw you' he would never forget. Nothing else seemed to matter all that much. For a few minutes she had muted the rest of the canyon, placed her plan on hold and basked in the glorious light of revenge she just enacted. Emily's anger had not dulled but instead had evolved. She was now an angry-calm version of her former self, almost like a master of the emotional martial arts. Instead, she was a master of vengeance. She knew what would happen if she was caught and she accepted it with a calmness that scared even her. Her mind repeated a thought she'd been having for a while 'You know you may have to kill them. Are you ready for that?' This time her answer was rather matter-of-fact. 'Yes. I accept that, in fact I'll enjoy that.' Emily knew what she had to do to make it out alive. After everything Mac put her through, murder was now as normal an idea as going to work. There was nothing anymore that could shake her foundations. She had only injured Mac, if he found her and managed to get his hands on her, she could probably handle the beating he would give her. An evolution was occurring within her and for once she did not fight herself. This change was greatly needed and long overdue.
Death (or her image of him) she now understood, was a confrontation with her darker self. Emily had invited him or her and they had come. They helped her to better understand death and to accept pain. Now she wished to help the citizens of Caineville to understand it as well. Her sense of need, need for rest and food, it no longer bothered her. The trip from the Luna Mesa to that rotted little shack that Mac called home, seemed to only take minutes, where before it took at least an hour. Her breath rolled from her lips in the form of a fog, as its warmth met the cold air around her. It was funny how the cold did not even bothered anymore, despite her thin clothing.
As she passed the snapping german shepherd, she gave it a passive sideways glance. Understanding Mac the way she did now, she knew he abused the poor creature and was the main cause of its aggression. That man had respect for no one, save for maybe Walter and that was only out of necessity. The old man had liquor (well used to anyway) and Mac depended on him to get his fix. So it was a good match, Walter and Mac. Where did Harley fit? He never got any respect from either one of them, yet he helped to keep them out of prison. 'I could use that. Maybe twist his mind into working for me.' Then again she would enjoy killing all of them instead. If she got in a bind though, she now had some ammunition to mess up their little party. And what a lovely mess she would make.
Outside of the house she spotted the truck, parked in the shadow of the old shack. Emily made her way over to the driver's side, pulling the zippo from her pocked. The flame flicked to life as the wheel struck the flint. It flickered wildly in the cool breeze that cycled around the desert. In its dim orange light, she spotted the bloody prints on the door handle. A satisfied smile crossed her face. 'He must have crawled from the face and had to drive all the way home so he could get to a phone. That must have hurt like hell. How did you like it asshole?' No wonder she had, had the time to burn the Luna Mesa to the ground.
Emily yanked open the door and stared in delight at the bloody seat and smears of crimson on the steering wheel. She messed him up good. With a sadistic grin still spread across her face, she searched for the keys. But found nothing except for a flashlight. Flicking the lighter shut, she shoved it in her pocket and grabbed the light. Its white beam was almost blinding when she flicked it on. Her eyes were so accustomed to darkness that they watered at the sight of real light. But something drew her attention away from the burning sensation in her eyes. On the ground, she spotted a blood trail leading to the house. Emily followed it and when she reached the front porch, she found two clean red hand prints. The prick had tripped on his way inside and from the smears on the door, had used it to pull himself up.
As she stared at the bloody door, it occurred to her that this place used to be her nightmare. Now she treated it like her own rental. There was a calmness to her that felt very wrong. It could only be described as a feeling of death, like standing in a cemetery. Emily grabbed the bloody handle and yanked the door open. The chain in her hand clanged against its metal exterior. Before, she might have looked around to make sure the noise did not draw unwanted attention. But now, she could care less.
The interior of the house came as no surprise to her. It smelled like bleach, propane, draino and rotted garbage. There were scribbled drawings taped to the wall, some of them extremely disturbing. 'This must be what he sees when the drug turns against him.' Emily moved the light along the wall and caught sight of three gas masks hanging on a chain from the ceiling. She moved over to them and found herself running her fingers over their thin rubber. She was learning his habits and his private life. Not to try and understand on sympathize with him. But so she could learn the best way to ruin him. If she learned his motives, she could always be one step ahead of him. She moved into the kitchen, which was even more chaotic than the rest of the house. On one counter sat a scale next to an over flowing ashtray. There were dished and bits of food scattered everywhere. This is where the smell was the worst and she covered her face with her sleeve so she could block it out. She searched the mess for his keys but found nothing.
So she aimed the light at the floor and looked for more blood. Just in the hallway she found a few droplets and along the wall, several smears where he fought to keep his footing. Then she say something hanging from the wall and heard the disconnect tone. At the very edge of the hall was an old corded phone with more blood on it. Emily followed the trail into the bathroom where she found several bloody towels and his clothes. Still no keys. That was the final straw, she was done looking for his keys and she had no more time to screw around here. So she headed for the last room in this section of the house (she had already assumed it was his bedroom and it was) and searched his closet. In the far corner she found what she was looking for, a toolbox. Emily began rifling through it until she found a flathead screwdriver and a pair of work gloves. Then she headed back out with the screw driver and gloves shoved in her pockets. She was not quiet or stealthy. She was loud and defiant. Her attitude said screw you Mac. The door on the truck was still open, so she threw the chain and light inside. Then she slipped on the gloves and climbed in, before shoving the screw driver in the ignition and turning it. The truck roared to life. It was long past time for her to leave, even if she had planned to kill them, she knew she would have to let it go. Unless of course they tried to get in her way, then she would happily show them what death looks like.
Emily shifted into reverse, backed up, slammed it into drive and floored it. The sand kicked up around the truck as she headed for the road. It was pitch black outside, the moon had ducked behind some dark clouds. That was fine with her, she had already found the switch for the flood lights on top of the truck. They lit the entire road in florescent white, making the dust clouds look like smoke. She fishtailed onto the main road and pressed the pedal to the floor. If they were still in front of the bar, she wanted them to hear her coming. And with an engine this loud, she knew they would.
There was no one outside the crumbling remains of the Luna Mesa. It was still smoldering as she blurred past it and headed for the county line. She almost didn't see him blocking the road. Not until he flipped on the cop cars lights and turned the spot light on her. Emily was forced to slam on the breaks because he was shining the light into the cab of the truck and right into her eyes. When she stopped, Harley moved the spot light and stepped from the car. Just behind her she heard a truck roar onto the road, blocking her from backing up. As Harley exited the police car, he pointed a shot gun at the drivers side of the wind shield.
"Get out of the truck!"
Emily smirked, shifting the truck into park, she revved the engine. She dared to challenge someone with a loaded gun and smirk at them from behind the glass of her dusty windshield. He cocked the gun and stepped forward.
"Get out of the fucking truck!"
With the flood lights on she knew he could not really see her, she she grabbed the chain from beside her. 'Come get me asshole.' In the side mirrors she could see Walter and a bandaged Mac, slowly approaching on both sides with guns drawn. Emily laughed to herself. She didn't know why she just couldn't help but start laughing. Even though she knew that if Mac got his hands on her, he would beat her within an inch of her life. The pain would most likely be unbearable but she really did not care. She still refused to move from the truck. Instead she sat there slowly wrapping the chain around her right hand as she waited for them to yank the doors open.
It was Harley who pulled open the driver's side door and when he shoved the gun in her face, she grabbed it with her free hand. Then she slammed her boot into his face before yanking the gun and turning it on them.
"Drop it Walter!"
The old man slowly set his shot gun down and the duo back away with hands raised. Behind her the door opened and before she could move the barrel of a colt .45 was pressed to her neck. Mac growled in her ear, his country accent as thick as ever.
"Better put that down for ya get hurt."
"Fuck you Mac."
He pressed the barrel harder against her flesh.
"Don' test me. I'll blow a hole clean through ya neck."
Emily slowly put the gun down and Walter picked it up.
"Atta girl. Ya member I told ya ya'd beg to die? Yer bout to."
"I ain't begging you for shit."
Mac sighed heavily before grabbing her by her hair and pulling her backwards out of the truck. She fell onto the road and before she could move, a cowboy boot slammed into her ribcage.
"Broke my fuckin nose!"
Mac picked her up by the collar of her jacket and slammed his fist into her jaw twice before before letting go. Emily spit blood onto the road before glaring up at him.
"You deserved it you wannabe bastard. Stand there pretending to be a cop when you aren't nothin but a little bitch boy. Take your orders from an old spic and a dickless redneck."
Emily realized that the chain was still wrapped around her right hand, so she clinched her fist and slammed it into Harley's groin. He gasped and cupped himself before collapsing to the ground. Then she took another swing at Mac with the little bit of hanging chain. But she missed and only managed to get a shotgun barrel pointed at her face.
"Don' push it. Ya burned down my bar. I'm itching to shoot yer ass."
She fought to hide her smirk. Emily slowly unwound the chain and acted like she was going to hand it over winningly. Instead she threw it at them and rolled under the truck to the other side of the road. Then she ran for the cop car. She was only a few few away when she felt something heavy hit her legs and she was sent to the ground. Emily rolled on her back to find Mac standing a few feet away and the chain half wrapped around her legs. He had thrown it at her. It seemed, despite his injuries he could still move rather quickly. She tried to get up but every time she did, she felt pain shoot through her left leg. So she belly crawled toward Harley's car. Even if she had a broken leg, she would not stop trying to get away from him and she sure as hell would not ever stop fighting him. The heel of a cowboy boot suddenly pressed in the center of her back, halting her movement.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Then she felt Harley on top of her and she heard the sound of handcuffs. Emily fought to get him off of her but at this angle she had no leverage, especially with the injured leg. He pressed his knee into her back and yanked her right arm behind her. The metal cuff dug into her open wound but she would not let the pain weaker her resolve. He yanked her other arm behind her, sending more tendrils of pain through her shoulders. She heard the second cuff click around her wrist and then he yanked her to her feet as if she was a rag doll. Just because she was restrained did not mean she was helpless. As soon as Harley helped her up, she slammed her head back into his already broken nose, breaking it even more. He let go of her and she tried once again to run (limp) for the car. Mac emerged in front of her, snatching her up and body slamming her to the concrete. All breath leapt from her lungs when she collided with the ground. He stood over her, cocking the gun as he pointed it at her, daring her to make another stupid move. Emily still couldn't stop herself from smirking. The more she angered them, the more comical she found it.
"You won't shoot me. We both know this."
Mac glanced at Harley, handing him the .45.
"Hold this."
Emily braced herself for whatever was about to happen. No matter how much pain this bastard inflicted on her, she would still give him the middle finger. Even if she was covered head to toe in bruises and blood, she still would fight him every step of the way. Mac lifted her up by her coat, setting her on her feet. That would have frightened her before, the amount of hidden strength he held in those powerful arms should have turned her back into a shaking leaf of fear. But she had faced death himself so to her, this man was nothing. For a few minutes he only stood there staring at her and switched his weight from one foot to another. Then he drew back his hand and slammed a fist straight into the bridge of her nose, shattering the bones. Emily stumbled for a moment, spitting more blood before glaring at him and retorting.
"Is that all you got...bitch?"
Mac was just starting to walk away from her when she said that to his back. He turned and proceeded to punch her in the stomach but she side stepped and slammed her forehead into his own nose. There was a satisfying crack as she broke it. That was enough to make him lose his balance and cause him to stumble backward. Emily glared at him as blood dripped down her face and onto the concrete beneath her. She watched him dab at the blood running out of his own nose before glaring up at her.
"Ya little bitch!"
"What's the matter Mac, don't like the sight of your own blood? Come on , take these cuffs off and let's do this right."
The next time he came at her, she dropped onto her back and kicked both of her boots into his stomach, sending him flipping over her. Mac landed on the ground with a grunt. Emily did something she had only seen in movies, she kicked both her feet forward and flipped herself upright, making sure to keep both Harley and him in her sights. The pretend officer cocked the gun and pointed it at her. That only made her smirk.
"Oh come on Harley, we both know you don't have the balls to pull that trigger. Put it down before you hurt yourself."
As she was insulting him, Mac was slowly coming up behind her. She had failed to hear him get up until he grabbed her by her hair.
"Fucking bitch!"
He rammed her head into the side of his truck, sending a million stars dancing into her vision and she collapsed on the ground. But she forced herself to get back to her feet, using the truck to brace herself since she lacked the use of her hands. Even with darkness threatening to over take her, she glared at him. There was now blood pouring from the gash in her forehead and dripping onto her favorite jacket. Again, she spit onto the ground before pushing away from the truck and swaying toward him. Apparently, Walter had left a long time ago because the only two people she could see were Harley and Mac. That was fine with her, she did not need an audience to beat the life out of either man.
"Ain't had enough?"
"I don't know what you're taking about. This is just foreplay to me. You hit like a bitch and you fight like a damn coward. What's the matter Mac, don't like when a woman fights back? "
Mac was on her before she had the chance to dodge him. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard enough to cut off her oxygen but she still refused to let him see her gasp for air. He slammed her into the hood of the truck hard, sending more pain through her back.
"I told ya ya'd beg to die if ya did somethin stupid again. Now beg fer it."
'I don't think so asshole.' Emily brought her knee up into his groin as hard as she could and she felt him let go of her throat. Mac gripped his injured manhood and back away from her, the glare of his face told her that if he got her back in that cave, she was done. But she would be damned if she let him get his hands on her or any other part of him inside of her. At this point, she doubted that he would be able to get an erection. So even if he wanted to rape her and rip her apart from the inside out, it just wasn't possible. She gasped for air and her defiant smirk returned. It returned with such a fury that she began to laugh at him.
"I..ain't begging...you...for..shit," She coughed and gasped. "So go to hell Mac and take that little bitch with you." She nodded at Harley
For a few moments no one moved but she laughed and coughed. Emily laughed until her ribs begged her to stop putting that pressure on them, she laughed until her throat hurt and she laughed until she felt like puking. There was nothing he could do to her anymore. So go ahead and slice her flesh. Go right ahead and rape her until you completely ruin her for anyone else. It didn't matter because she knew something that he didn't.
"What's so funny bitch?! You ain't goin no where. No one is comin to rescue you." Harley yelled.
"Ha ha...no...they aren't. And I may not be going anywhere. Mac just might dump my body in the desert. But so fucking what. He can have my body but he will never have me. You can never have all of me."
Mac finally stood up and headed in her direction. Then she felt his knee slam into her stomach again before he repeatedly punched her in the face. He hit her until her face was covered in blood and she was spitting teeth. That demon kicked her until she tasted nothing but blood and bile. Still she fought through the pain and she smirked a bloody red smirk. It only seemed to piss him off even more because he was beginning to realize that for whatever reason he would not break her. Maybe before she had her much needed visit from Death he might have been able to ruin her and turn her into his personal play thing. But he made the mistake of leaving her alone in that cave. Too bad for him. When the beating could not satisfy his anger, he walked over to Harley, grabbing the gun and cold cocking her in the temple. The sudden blast to her temple made the awaiting darkness envelope her entirely and she collapsed on the ground. In her unconscious state, she knew that he was far from done 'punishing' her for her indiscretions.
