The Armory Headquarters
Damon pulled up outside the headquarters of yet another mysterious guild I had no time for. The building was castle-like in structure, though more prim and pruned than the real crumbling McCoy; pretentiousness was also a key tenet with this lot.
My brow crumpled as I read my latest text out loud, "Valerie says she just lost cell reception with Stefan."
"As if ruining his life wasn't enough for me to worry about, now we get to wonder when you and Valerie exchanged numbers," Damon grumbled bitterly to mask his worry.
Stefan had jumped in front of Rayna's supernatural jabby sword, taking the fall for Damon once again, and he was forced to run from the Huntress, forever more.
"You told Stefan you would find a way to get him off the hook with Rayna, and I told Caroline I'd make sure you didn't screw it up. So, we both have a lot riding on this," I told him, curtly.
Caroline, mother of twins, back from the brink of death, and right back to giving us all our marching orders; her downtime was next to no time.
"Oh, so you make time for pow-wows with Blondie, but you leave poor old Damon on read," Damon whined.
"Sorry. I've been a little too preoccupied to respond to every single selfie you fling my way. Look, you've got me for one day, and one day only. Can we just get this over with?" I groaned.
Enzo opened the grand front door suddenly, and greeted us on the imposing front porch, "good. You made it!"
He turned and jerked his head toward the door, indicating we should follow him inside his ostentatious new crib. I side-eyed Damon, and waited for something resembling an explanation. He cleared his throat and muttered something half-arsed about Enzo moving up in the world.
Enzo took us through a series of large billowing rooms decked out with old, antique furniture, and glass cases full of dusty ancient artifacts. Had my mind been less busy, and the situation less pressing, I would have rather enjoyed meandering along each case at my leisure. Damon and I scoped out the resoundingly silent joint with both curiosity and suspicion.
"Where the hell are we?" Damon asked, hoarsely.
"This is The Armory. Home to a society of supernatural artifact collectors. We keep them under lock and key so they don't fall into the wrong hands," Enzo explained.
I kept myself from scoffing 'pfft, we?' and turned my attention to Damon who was playing around with an undoubtedly important, rare, expensive metal mask.
"The Armory...huh. Never heard of it," Damon scoffed, and rolled his head my way to ask, "you?"
"Nope," I muttered back.
Enzo chuckled in a patronizing manner and noted, "yeah, that's kind of the point. They've taken great care to keep themselves out of history as we know it."
"And, for three easy payments of $19.99, we too can be members!" Damon quipped sarcastically, and then his face fell flat. He sauntered up to Enzo and requested, plainly, "how about we just cut to the part where they can save my brother? Where's the cavalry, man?"
"They're out on their own supernatural treasure hunt," Enzo explained, "but, lucky you, they've recruited me to nab Rayna Cruz."
Damon scoffed out loudly, and I simply shot a staunch look Enzo's way; that wasn't good enough.
"Ever since that annoying Phoenix Stone turned up in Mystic Falls, she's been top priority. They actually consider her one of the...supernatural wonders of the world," Enzo elaborated.
"And why do you care what they want?" I asked him.
"They have something I want," Enzo replied, "when The Armory kidnapped me four months ago, it wasn't to torture me. A woman named Alex made me an offer: I help them out, they give me information on my family. Needless to say, I've been working for The Armory ever since."
I felt an all too familiar pang of guilt, but I squashed it down as best I could. I didn't know that Enzo had been kidnapped. The work I was doing in New Orleans occupied all of my time. And Hope took up the rest.
"Look, all we need to do is get Stefan here, and Rayna will have no choice but to follow. A rat to the cheese. We spring the trap, and The Armory keeps her under lock and key forever after. Everyone gets on with their lives," Enzo said, and glanced between the two of us, "what do you say?"
"Well, I'll have to discuss this with my counsel," Damon declared, and he gave me a long silent look; a look that said absolutely nothing other than 'I enjoy irking Enzo'.
Enzo rolled his eyes in derision and folded his arms, awaiting the telepathic verdict.
I turned to Enzo, officially, and said, "okay, we're in."
Damon had stepped outside to take a call from Valerie. I stayed inside and quizzed Enzo some more in an effort to chip away at my overwhelming skepticism, "so...this faceless so-called 'Armory' claims to know where you come from?"
"I find Rayna Cruz, they fill in the blanks," Enzo explained.
"And, if you have to lie, or hurt your friends, or screw anyone over in the process, so be it, right?" I rasped, quietly, and took in his look of indignation. I shrugged, "I'm just riffing on what Damon told me on the ride over here."
Enzo scoffed and told me, angrily, "I was sent to the workhouse at the age of four, with a concept of family so limited I actually convinced myself that an Italian line cook was my father. By fourteen, I was out on the streets. By twenty-seven, I was dead. That is it. That is the sum total of my life as a human. I know how to comfort myself, live off scraps, and catch disease. The rest? You know, love, relationships, family...these are things I know nothing about. This is what The Armory can provide me. So, will I do whatever it takes for answers? In a heartbeat."
"By sixteen, I was dead," I hit back, "drowned at the bottom of a lake. I watched my mother go first, felt my father's hand loosening in mine. And fuck did it hurt. You ever drowned? Never known pain like that, it burned and it crushed and it was not fast."
Enzo stared back at me.
"Sorry, I thought we were sharing sob stories," I uttered, monotonously.
"What happened?" Enzo asked me, simply, dropping the heated thread of our conversation and focusing solely on me. I found concerned sincerity in his eyes. He was looking at me, all over, searching for a clue of some sort.
"Wh-what do you mean..." I muttered, and avoided his gaze, "that's the sad sorry tale."
He shook his head lightly, and said, "no. Not that. You seem...different."
Damon sauntered back inside, interrupting our standoff, and declared, "flag on the play. Like an idiot, Stefan didn't renew the minutes on his cell phone. We'll call you when we connect. Come on Ro-Ro, I want to beat traffic."
"You know where he is?" Enzo asked.
"Yeah. I do, Enzo," Damon scorned, "I also know that you allowed me to believe Elena was dead so I'd help you kill Rayna, who's already escaped your custody once. Then, you tricked me into saving your ass, which resulted in Rayna getting this stupid sword, and now I have Stefan's 1863 Siphon-crush telling me that you all are shady people. So, Ro-Ro here and I are gonna go cook up a Plan B. But, thanks anyway."
I figured a sassy spin and straight saunter out the room was coming next, but instead Damon collapsed to the ground, like a sack of potatoes. He had a vervain dart in his chest. Enzo had a dart gun in his hands. I looked at him, in horror. He looked coldly back at me.
"I've had a rough week, okay? Apologies for the whole sob story bit. Joke didn't land," I said, and felt my hands rising up in defense, "w-what are you doing?!"
Enzo cut the slow menacing walk towards me with a flash and smacked the back of my head with the butt of the gun.
My head ached. I winced as my eyes blinked into a hazy excuse for focus. I smelled leather; felt it sticking to my face. I tried to push myself up off the couch.
"Easy," Enzo rasped, and helped me up.
I wasn't initially scared, just confused as hell, and then it all trickled back as I surveyed my surroundings; I jerked away from him.
"Damon put Tyler in a coma. Bit of a hallucination mix-up that resulted in Damon introducing Tyler's skull to the pavement several times. I trust he mentioned that bit? If the Armory hadn't found him, he'd be a vegetable...or dead," Enzo said, and presented a bundle to me, "ice?"
"You knock me out, then offer me ice? What's wrong with you?!" I asked him, incredulously, and snatched the bundle from his hands, pressing the soothing coldness against the burgeoning bump on the back of my head. I scowled at him and asked, "where's Damon?"
"I locked him in a room with Tyler, on a full moon," Enzo said, plainly, watching keenly for my inevitable reaction, "yes, you heard that right - your bestie, your sidekick, your humanity project. The man who spins your moral compass in a tizzy. If he doesn't give over Stefan's location by the wolfing hour, he's a dead man."
I dropped the bundle, sending the ice scattering across the floor, and struggled to stand up. I furiously attempted to attack Enzo with my favourite bone-breaking spell, Phasmatos Ossox! Nothing. Enzo smirked back at me. I stared down at my hands.
"Wh...what did you do to me? Why won't my magic work?" I muttered.
"I injected you with one of the Armory's toys. You're in a magical time-out. Feel free to dispense with the menacing posture," Enzo explained, and sat down casually.
"You're going to hurt yourself," Enzo drawled.
I stopped frantically throwing my body against the door to the downstairs cells for one moment and glared back at him, demanding he open it.
"Sorry. Members only, love," Enzo replied, with a little shrug.
My shoulders flopped. I paced a step or two with every intention of containing myself, but instead, I burst, "you wanna know what happened to me?! Ha! What the hell happened to you?! I haven't been gone that long. Not long enough for you to turn into this person?"
"This person?" He scoffed back, with equal ire, storming over to me, "what, as opposed to the other person you were so fond of?"
"At least that person knew what he wanted, and fought for it without steamrolling everybody else," I scorned back.
"And where did that get me? Huh? Lily's dead. I have nowhere to live, no town to call home. The Enzo you knew didn't get what he wanted. This one will," he determined.
I hummed and recapped, "and you want your family. A family who dropped you at a work house, never came looking for you, who wiped all trace of their existence from your life. You're willing to make an enemy out of everyone for them?!"
Enzo's face softened as he explained, "when I told you that Damon was in trouble, you leaped to your feet, tried to stop me. Didn't matter what he'd done, how he hurt Tyler - your first instinct was to help him," his mind appeared to drift into his thousand yard stare and he muttered, "that's what I want. That's all I want."
"Well...then stop looking in all the wrong places," I whispered, caressing the antique vase in my hands.
My grip tightened. I slammed it against the back of Enzo's head with all my strength, like for like, using the pulsing ache I still felt as a blind poetic target. Enzo was knocked flat on his back, disoriented and too stunned to react. I rummaged around in his jacket quickly, pulled out the vervain dart gun, fired the remainder of the clip into his chest and staggered well back, way out of swiping distance. It worked. He was out for the count. I looked at the sizable gap between the locked door and Enzo's floppy body and my relief soured into frustration.
"Crap," I cursed under my breath and took Enzo's wrist with both hands.
I heaved his dead weight over to the locked door. My boots slipping and sliding against the waxed floor as I hauled his heavy ass.
"Open...sesame!" I groaned as I lifted up his hand and slapped the scanner.
Tyler was mid-transformation; he begged me to get the hell out of there; he didn't want to hurt me. I couldn't get inside. Whatever Enzo had given me to disable my magic was still going strong.
Tyler snapped and broke again and again. His back arched. He howled in agony. He was fighting a losing battle. I needed a member's hand print to save Damon, to save him from getting ripped to shreds. There was no time to lug Enzo all the way down here.
I'm not proud of it, okay. But...it was the only option. I took up that fancy ax on display and I took Enzo's hand.
I remember Damon trying to stop me, trying to get me to leave him behind. Tyler would kill me too if I opened that door. It was his mess. I should run. I remember ignoring his pleas, clearly, and smacking Tyler with an IV stand as he tried to bite down on Damon. And then, nothing. Lights out. Curtain down.
Whitmore College Medical Center
Fine. Be that way. Ignore me.
I could hear beeping, felt a tube running across my cheeks, felt another stinging bang to the head. I took a while to open my eyes.
"By the way, once whatever crap Enzo gave you is out of your system and magic works on you again, I'm going to give you my blood and heal you, okay?" Damon said, "but, in the meantime, there's something I want you to know. You are a terrible friend. You know that?"
"What..." I huffed out, and found the strength to pry one eye open.
"There she is," Damon whispered, his face prickled with relief. His brow then furrowed and he complained, "took you long enough! My god, Rosetta Stone, you scared the crap outta me! Do you have any idea what I'd have to go through if you'd have died today? Huh? Years of guilt. Crippling, self-loathing guilt. Not to mention the resentment I'd feel if I was forced to break in a new drinking buddy..."
"Get over yourself," I grumbled and struggled to sit up.
Damon stopped me, grabbing my arm and insisting I hear him say, "you're not supposed to die for me, Ro. Neither is my brother. But, no matter what I say, or how hard I try and drill it into your skulls, you're not going to stop trying."
"Of course we're not," I sighed, "speaking of Stefan, what's the plan?"
"Stefan was in New Orleans a few days ago," Damon informed me.
"What?" I scorned.
"Looking for you. And our favourite reigning psychopath told him you hadn't been seen in days."
"He never told me Stefan was there," I hit back.
"And you would've ran back from where exactly?" Damon asked. I didn't say anything. It wasn't that I wanted to keep it from him, what had happened, what I was doing. He was the one person whose understanding was assured; he'd be doing exactly the same thing, no doubt about that. I just couldn't say it out loud. I tried. But nothing came out. He continued, "I don't have to worry about you because the Original big bads are supposed to be looking out for you, your boyfriend has no qualms ripping out a heart or two, and your best friend is the wolfy queen of the jungle. You're supposed to be fine."
"I am fine," I scorned back, shakily. Clearly Klaus had kept one rather painful card close to his chest with Stefan.
"You were bested by Enzo! ENZO. You fell for that soppy woe is only me act. You are not fine! You are a trusting marshmallow, that's what you are!" Damon ranted.
"He shot you first!" I hit back.
"Look, you're on the bench, kid. For any questions on reasoning, please refer back to everything I just said and you completely ignored," Damon said, evasively, "my plan. Not yours. My problem. Not yours. This is the Damon-only show. You go back to New Orleans, you live a happy, long, fruitful life under the watchful eyes of several un-killable ass-holes. Deal? Great. Good talk."
"You don't even know how to kill Rayna," I reminded him, "so, I've got a pretty good idea how the final act of your show goes. Oh...but, you know who might?"
I reached over for my cellphone, but my hand disappeared through it, like it were vapor.
"Don't even think about it, Squishy," Damon grumbled.
"What the hell?!" I scorned back and looked around the room.
"Ah. Finally, you twigged," Damon said, and explained, "you're not awake yet, I'm in your head. The handy-dandy compelled docs are keeping you alive until Enzo's magic-repellent crap wears off, then there's a gnarly tainted sports drink under your bed that'll have you feeling tip-top in no time!"
"Damon..." I grumbled.
"Speaking of the Armory's favourite little minion, you're not going anywhere near him, you hear me?"
"Enzo can-" I tried.
"Enzo, can go to Hell!" Damon barked back, "look around, Rosanna. I'm not here for the filmy hospital pudding. You almost died in that place, and I'll never let that happen again. Promise me you will stay out of this, Rosie. Promise me you will do what I said! Go home! I can handle Rayna."
The Armory Headquarters
I perched on the end of a table, and dangled my legs idly waiting for Enzo, or anyone really, to emerge. I was starting to believe he may be a deranged one man outfit. The door beeped; he came in and looked pretty surprised to see me there. He glanced around the room and scoffed, "Rosanna. Always a pleasure."
"So, did it grow back, or...?" I asked, gesturing to his hand.
"No, actually," Enzo drawled, and wiggled his fingers about, "I had to reattach it. But, thank you for your concern."
I shrugged a little and jumped down from my stoop to approach him, admitting, "less concern, more curiosity..."
"Well, at least you're thinking of me," Enzo grinned, "I take it you received my messages?"
"I did. And, I'm not stupid enough to think that your apologies were genuine, nor anything more than a tactic to get me here," I informed him, "fair warning: if you try to disable my magic again, you'll wish I only cut off your hand."
Enzo laughed wryly, "I see Damon's obscenity is rubbing off on you. It's quite pathetic, really. You know, you following him around like some high-school groupie."
"Mmm, I forgot," I rasped, "you two used to be friends. And now you have none."
"Oh, you think you're friends?" Enzo scoffed.
"Get to the point, Enzo, or I walk," I scorned.
"Happily. I must again apologize, wholeheartedly, for yesterday. We got off on the wrong foot," he declared.
"The wrong foot? Or..." I scoffed.
Enzo rolled his eyes and drawled, "not funny."
"I don't know, it's kind of funny," I smirked back.
"Rayna Cruz is a common enemy. We should be working together to fight her," Enzo declared.
"But the weird empty organisation you've attached yourself to don't want to fight her. They want her captured. So, I think you know a lot more than you're letting on," I countered, "makes it hard for me to trust you."
"Fair," Enzo conceded, "why don't you come with me?"
I looked into Enzo's eyes, questioningly. I couldn't feel the first smack to the head anymore, thanks to Damon's awful concoction, but I could still point it out if I had to; I was wary, but something deep in my gut told me that I could trust Enzo; the imaginary friend beneath the floorboards; the man who owed me nothing, took blood off my hands, took me away without question. He mockingly bowed and gestured 'ladies first'. I reluctantly walked past him; he trailed behind. We ended up in a dark room ram-packed with books and artifacts; a hoarders paradise compared to the neatly displayed main hall.
"This room contains everything the Armory has gathered on Rayna Cruz," Enzo explained, "list of victims, her lineage, the spell used to create her...and, most importantly, the shamans that gave their lives for her. The eight Everlastings."
I was glad Enzo referenced the old wrinkly dead elephants in the room. Eight bodies were inside black display cases with glass lids; two of them looked like they were taking a really uncomfortable nap, but the rest looked mummified.
"Um...you mean two Everlastings? The other six look pretty...lasted," I noted.
Enzo spun and confirmed my snarky comment. He groaned, "there should be three preserved corpses. It must have just happened. Damnit!"
"I take it from your subtle shift in attitude that's a bad thing?" I asked.
Enzo faced me once more and nodded, "every time Rayna dies, one of the bodies decays. We've lost quite a few this past week, and if we lose all of them, Rayna dies for good. Excuse me. I need to inform Alex."
Enzo came back into the room just in time to watch the penultimate shaman decompose right in front of him. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and smiled brightly back at him.
"You have five seconds to tell me exactly what's happening, or you're not leaving here alive," Enzo demanded, clearly furious.
I scoffed, "I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings by lying about my true intentions for being here? Feels crappy, doesn't it?"
"What did you do?" he asked, impatiently.
"I didn't do anything," I admitted, "Damon, on the other hand-"
"-is an idiot!" he scorned.
"Why? Because he's finally taking care of the problem you couldn't?" I asked.
"No, because every time Rayna dies, she comes back stronger!" Enzo shouted back.
"Except for that last one, right? She won't be stronger when she's dead for good. Why do we even want her alive?"
"You know, I wouldn't worry about that. I'd worry about this," Enzo scorned, and plucked up a book, dropping it down on the table next to me, "this is the spell those shamans used to create her. Read it!"
The pages held an intricate diagram of the Phoenix Stone, and the sword.
"The sword. It has linking magic. It creates a bond between Rayna and her victims," I read aloud and gave Enzo a look, "we knew that."
"Well, that's not all. The shamans didn't want her going to her eternal rest with any unfinished business, so they added an extra addendum," Enzo explained.
I sighed and carried on, "the scars are...a fail-safe. If Rayna dies...so does anyone she's marked."
My blood ran cold.
"Stefan has one of those scars, doesn't he?" Enzo articulated my horror and stepped outside to make another mysterious phone call.
"Oh my god..." I muttered as the gravity of the situation settled in.
My eyes danced around the stuffed room. I started pulling random books off the shelves and slammed them down on a table.
"What the hell are you doing?" Enzo asked, reappearing mid-rampage.
"You said she gets stronger each time she comes back to life. Damon can't kill her. He's walking into a fight he can't win," I explained.
"The Armory is on their way to Mystic Falls. They'll be there soon," Enzo assured me.
"Not soon enough!" I hit back, "she's connected to an Everlasting. Maybe I can weaken it...and her."
"And maybe that will kill her, and Stefan, too," Enzo countered.
"If I do nothing, she'll kill Damon!" I barked back, in sheer frustration, "I've already lost my sister, and now I've lost Hayley too. I will not lose Damon!"
Enzo looked taken aback by my outburst and truth be told, so was I; I don't think he realized just how close I was to Damon until that moment; how much I truly cared about him.
"I'm sorry. This Hayley, was your friend?" Enzo asked, tentatively.
"More like a sister. Family," I huffed out.
"And Damon is lumped in there too. Family, huh?" Enzo scoffed and asked, incredulously, "you're willing to kill for him? Risk a half-decent friend for him? Do you really think he cares that much about you?"
"Yeah, I do," I whispered.
Enzo looked at me for the first time with pity, and he asked, gently, "you have no idea what he's planning, do you?"
Warehouse District - Brooklyn, New York
"You weren't even gonna say goodbye?" I demanded, shattering Damon's quiet, reflective moment, his hand snapped off Elena's coffin, and he spun to face me. His face fell, taking in the fury plastered across mine. He looked confused to see me standing there, so I shed a little light, "Enzo told me you asked him for Elena's coffin. He told me what you were planning. I didn't believe him. I thought...nah, if Damon desiccates until Elena wakes up, I'll never see him again. He'd never do that."
Damon sighed, sadly and he said, feebly, "look, I wrote you a letter and gave it to Stefan-"
"Are we friends?" I interrupted him, sharply.
Damon scoffed and said, "of course, Rosie. We don't actively try and kill each other anymore."
"No. I'm not doing that," I said, angrily, "no insults. No jokes...are we friends?!"
Damon didn't know what to say; he visibly struggled to find the words. A small ever-depleting part of me still hoped he'd find a way to make this all okay, some biting quip, some admittance this was just a haphazard moment of weakness, and he couldn't go through with his well thought-out perfectly executed plan, but no. It all fell into place with such ease. This was easy for him.
"I know why you wanted to do this in a letter: so you could desiccate in peace, knowing you did the bare minimum, imagining whatever reaction you wanted. Me reading it and thinking, 'huh. I'm really gonna miss him'," I scoffed and shook my head, ushering the tears back down, and scorned, "well, too bad, because that's not my reaction. This is. I am not okay with this decision. I'm not okay with you choosing yourself. And I'm not okay with never seeing you...my best friend, ever again."
The tears trickled down my face, my voice disappeared into a whisper, "this hurts me. This hurts...this hurts me..."
After a moment, I pulled myself together, smiled an angry smile and wiped the last of the tears from my face.
"Hmm," I hummed and told him, "as you desiccate, and as you feel the pangs of hunger as the blood drains from your body, that's what I want you to remember. That you hurt me."
Damon stepped forward, arms open, wanting to comfort me, "Ro...listen to me-"
I shook my head sharply and backed away from him, scorning back, "no. No. You don't get to say goodbye."
That was to be the last time I ever saw Damon Salvatore, his arms still spread, the ache in his eyes. I'd loved and I had lost countless times over, but I had never had someone choose to leave me, forever. The pain was different, cut in new, unfathomable ways; it shook everything I had held on to so dearly these past few years to the very core. The anger festered and turned vengeful, fueled the fire to complete my work in New Orleans without compromise, without mercy.