Desperado

by Hell-on-Training-Wheels

Erron Black annoyingly finds himself having to deal with the repercussions of a bargain he made with a woman he can't stand and one who also reciprocates the feeling. ((MKX Erron Black/ OC))

35. Doll

A/N: Thank you again to everyone for your continued support on this fic - you have no idea how much it helps to keep me going. :)

Also, many thank to Poe's Daughter for their fabulous help and advice on this chapter. Always appreciate your extra set of eyeballs.

And yeah, Hulin's back, so this one is... different from the past two 'fluffy' chapters.

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Chapter 35
White Foxes
Part 5
Doll

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The ex-cupbearer heard footsteps approaching from the male's hallway— shuffled and strange for the gunslinger, but thinking it was him, she turned, and her heart dropped to her ankles.

It was her husband.

Hulin seemed just as surprised as she was and took in her appearance by slightly narrowing his eyes in confusion, as if unsure if she truly was there, but it was a fleeting moment. She took a step backward while her face paled. The corners of his mouth picked up at her. Predatory, unnerving, and quick. He was delighted to see her alone.

Just like her, he was groomed; his once long hair always worn in a top-knot now cut and shaped short, and like his hair, his face and skin were clean. She didn't take long noting his appearance as she felt trepidation claw inside her chest like a drowning animal trying to keep its head above water. He slithered from the archway, as much as his splinted leg would allow, and she felt her heart hammer in a frenzied tempo inside her chest. Her legs didn't budge, like they were not hers to command to move.

Hulin said nothing, but his eyes conveyed his thoughts to her: they became dark and glassy the more he approached, while the rest of his expression carried a fictitious, genial regard. He looked soulless. His free hand drifted to a pocket at his side… he had her alone and she knew it was what he always wanted…

He stopped when they heard a laugh from one of the spa maids bouncing down the hall— a maid who was out of sight but could round the corner in an instant. He blinked as his mouth set into a firm line; irritation darkening his features. He grimaced and then after a moment, bit his bottom lip in thought; his eyes sliding from the hallway and then back to her. They were alone, but still not in the way he wanted.

She wanted to do nothing but run but was hesitant to try. She was still trapped. He could bat her easily with the cane; he was within reach. Besides, the time to flee out of the way had passed, as each drop of the cane on the stone floor thudded closer to her like an ominous drum.

Her breath stumbled out of her throat as she let out a patch of air; one she hadn't been aware she had been holding in. How could her luck turn so rotten? Why was he here? Did he know she would be here too? Had he been waiting all this time as he had before at Guang's house? After seeing Jan Fei?

"It was not hard to find you and Abigail. I found you both days ago. I am persistent and patient. Sit down. Let us talk. Do not let me ruin your appetite."

Her throat went dry recalling the memory. She could still taste their meal together—the stew— and recalling the taste felt like she had someone else's bile shifting around in her mouth. Simply remembering it, made every part of her sick. Sickened by what had happened, sickened by what he had done, and even more sickened with herself at how easily she had played into his trap.

Her hand squeezed into a fist, her expression turning vehement towards him, as Abigail's face resurfaced in her tormented memory. A kind, selfless Earthrealm woman that had gone through so much, yet had been trying to help her move on after the palace… and Hulin was the last thing she had seen before she died.

"What did you do to Abigail?"

"She is with us, my dear."

Her body was in the next room, blocked by a closed door so she couldn't see… but it wasn't what he meant.

The Edenian gave her a brief lackluster smile, feigning amity before he continued on his path to her.

She gazed from his face to the cane, to the sling before she finally met his eyes. The baker would always dread his presence more than any person in the realm, no matter the circumstances, but even as he came to stand before her now, the ex-cupbearer felt a revelation growing inside her about him. Something quite paradoxical.

Before, in front of the palace and at Guang's house, she had been fearful of him due to his physical appearance. He was a relatively healthy and strong male and there was no question that he could subdue her if he wished to. She had experienced some of his strength firsthand at her cupbearer test. And though he had never been physical towards her after the interrogation, it didn't mean he couldn't. If she said the wrong word or gave him the wrong facial gesture, she had no doubt he would.

Still, they both knew he would never need to hit her. His words were always his weapon of choice, and they were just as effective as him raising a hand to her. A fact he was aware of as well and one that always left her at an infuriating disadvantage with him. An incoming fist was easy to predict, but his punishments would always be hidden and cruel, and they could be just as painful if not worse. Norah would always hate him for that— as much as she hated him for what he had done to Abigail.

Now, however, he was at a disadvantage. Seeing him so crippled caused some of her fear to dwindle towards him. He looked pathetic. The baker almost wanted to bark laughter in his face the closer he hobbled to her. The once arrogant palace interrogator, one so haughty, was reduced to looking so enfeeble thanks to the symbiotes.

It didn't dissipate all her fear towards him, but it washed some of it away. Her spine straightened at his approach; her posture taller as she kept eye contact with him. She could tell being incapacitated bothered him as well. It was easy to see simply by the contemptuous flicker in his eyes that would come every time he heard the cane hit the ground. And it was enough to keep her guard up.

Hulin stopped in front of her, and she tensed. His demeanor was friendly, as it always was to her, but his gaze was nothing but irate. There was such incongruity about it. It was as if he wore a constant blithe, porcelain mask; one always reflected at her with a carefully designed smile. The baker never was fooled by his mask, for she could always see his true nature in his eyes. It was the only part of him he could never hide from anyone no matter how much he tried.

Because of it, she often wondered if that was the reason for his interest in her. She wasn't tricked by his charm, and perhaps it struck a nerve with him in some way that it caused him to garner a fixation towards her. She wished she was more forgettable to him; it would have spared her a lot of pain… and perhaps Abigail would still be alive...

Hulin's act faded away slightly, his face duplicating the ire he felt towards her for a brief moment, lifting the veil. The Edenian was angry as well and it wasn't hard to guess why…

"Where are Ferra and Torr, my dear?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. His inflection was sweet, but each word was wet with venom. "Are they here with you? Or have you finally come to your senses? If so, I can almost forgive you for allowing the brutes to attack me. Your husband."

The glare she gave him could have boiled water instantly.

His eyes went south to north, taking in her fresh attire and clean appearance. Hulin's lips pursed together as his eyes lifted back to her own and glinted ardently, his resentment seemingly flittering away as he inspected her zealously. As if he approved of her new look. The thought made her qualmish, but not as much as what he said next to her.

"I must say, this is such a lovely way to apologize to me," he breathed fondly. "I planned on allowing you to come here to freshen up when you were ready to… finalize our marriage. You cannot imagine how delighted you make me to see you this way."

She ground her teeth at the vile thought that also simultaneously kicked terror hard in her stomach.

"How absolutely beautiful you look," he told her in a whispered tone so amicable that it made her stomach curl in on itself in disgust.

He shifted his cane to the exposed hand of his splinted arm and balanced his weight on his one good leg. His free hand came up to softly pinch the strand of hair that framed her face and she recoiled while he spun the strands between his pads.

"You smell good… and my, your hair is so soft…" the corners of his mouth picked up to the side, his eyes traveled down her again and he added: "As I always pictured all of you to be."

The little bit of calm resolve she had vanished instantly, and her hand shot up and crushed his wrist. Her knuckles turned white as her nails dug bitingly into his skin. He glowered as her face twisted ugly into a hateful scowl and his once fervent mood left quickly as his eyes turned callous and onyx at her.

"Keep... your FILTHY hands... away from me…" she snarled; her eyes narrowed sharply as her hand tightened more on his wrist. "Or I'll BREAK the other half of you that Ferra and Torr did not."

With as much strength as she had, Norah pushed him away with a grunt; causing him to stumble a few feet from her. Hulin recollected his balance as he staggered backward, using the cane to assist him. As soon as he recollected his footing, his brow hardened, and his nostrils flared. Hulin's attention landed back on her with annoyed bewilderment, as if he couldn't believe she would have the nerve to shove him away. Yet, she noticed some detachment in his reaction as well. As if he wasn't that bothered by it. She assumed it was because of how little he thought of her, but it didn't matter if it was the reason or not because it succeeded in angering her even more.

Her fists clenched at her sides as her chest rose up and down. "I am NOT here to see you… I NEVER want to see you!" she growled at him. "Stay away from me... or with the Gods as my witness, I will KILL you!"

Hulin cleared his throat, smoothing his hand down the front panel of his shirt before he regarded her with indifference. The Edenian gave a quick suck at his teeth as his hand gripped the cane back into his other hand— and tighter than before.

"Then why are you here?" he challenged. "Who brought you here, if not those two brainless brutes?"

Norah said nothing, her fists remaining tight at her sides, as they stayed in a momentarily turbulent deadlock until he broke the silence.

His lips parted, letting out a small, sardonic 'ah' fall quietly out. His chin rose; an acute and displeased realization adorning his features.

"Is that why the Kahn's whipped Earthrealm dog is here?" he questioned, the sentence filled to the brim with clear malignancy for the mercenary… and towards her as well.

Norah blinked at him, temporarily taken aback, before her expression turned to marble at him. How did he know Erron Black was here? Had he known they were both here all along? Was that why he was here in the first place. No explanation she thought up offered her comfort or reassurance; it just reminded her of how much he enjoyed the stalk as much as the pounce in his hunts.

Hulin stepped closer, limping back and regaining the lost space Norah had pushed him out of moments prior. Unlike before, he didn't bother with his charming façade. His air of cordiality forgone for her to see the earnest face behind the mask, and she had to admit, seeing it truly for the first time, alarmed her on the spot. It was chilling how quickly, and how intense he could change. He stared at her with such an unrelenting, vindictive hatred. His eyes empty of emotion, but still filled with such virulent promise. It was as if he wanted to kill her on the spot, and if they were alone without the threat of anyone stumbling in on their conversation, she suspected he probably would have.

"For someone who proclaims to not be a whore, you sure do like to keep company with many men," he fumed, his eyes like slits as he hissed out his accusation through his teeth.

The ex-cupbearer lifted her chin in defiance at him, despite feeling herself bristle at his words.

"I can tell the barristers that as well," he promised snidely. His eyes blazed at her like black coals on a fire. "Why else would that repugnant Earthrealmer bring you here to dress and clean you if you hadn't spread your legs already for him. You did so easily for Jan Fai. What was it? A day or two before you let him take you to bed? I can only imagine it would be less with that mercenary pig that keeps sniffing at your feet and hoping to get a whiff of your cunt."

Norah slapped him ruthlessly hard.

His head barely moved to the side, and instead, Hulin leaned in and smiled derisively at her. His cheek turned red as if it had been singed, and yet he acted like her harsh strike was nothing but a soft wind hitting him.

"There wouldn't be a barrister that would think of you any differently than a slut, and charge you as an adulterer, if I told them my side of the story," he continued plainly. "Then like a good husband, I'll have a change of heart in the middle of your sentencing. You are young and impressionable, after all, and still learning how to be a proper wife. I would tell them that I forgive you and that I'll correct you. It wouldn't be hard to convince them, and if not, they can be easily paid to be so."

The baker let out a jaded scoff at him as he stepped closer to her, and before she could back away, he switched the cane between hands again and reached out. He grabbed a handful of her sectioned hair and she felt her face go red.

His fingertips ghosted against the nape of her neck, her hair blanketing his fingers as he palmed it tight in his hand. It gave him two options to hold her: either by pulling her by the hair or opening his palm and wrapping it on the side of the throat like a hook. For now, he just had it on her. Nothing that physically hurt her, but to simply hold her like an animal at the reins with wordless assurance he could pull taut at any time.

"So, consider carefully, my dear, of whose room you wish to return too…" His fingers flexed slightly but threateningly before he inhaled through his nose deeply and gave out a contented sigh. His temper receded afterward as if he was confident, he could holster away his true self now that he had her compliant. He was wrong. It made her feel anything but compliant.

"Take… your hand...OFF of me," she ordered, her voice sharp and furious.

His jaw went stiff for a brief second before his mouth pressed into a flat line and his tone exasperated: "I have been very patient with you—more tolerant than what you deserve. I treated you kindly in your interrogation. I gave you back your necklace. I have been nothing but gracious to you whenever we have crossed paths. I even married you so Tama would not sentence you to death. I brought you and Abigail closer than ever before… and this is how you behave? This is how you repay me? After all that I have done for you. How terribly ungrateful you are."

His hand grappled tighter and he let gravity take over. His weight shifted, no longer balancing on his one good leg, and instead used her as a handle to hold himself up. Pain bit into her scalp, making her wince as her head tilted to the side from his dead weight. He gave a quick yank, making her let out a small hiss of pain; her head on fire as her hand came up to claw at the back of his.

"It is time to come home, my dear. You are my wife, and it is time you behave as such," he showed his teeth, giving her a brief charismatic smile; his fictitious, mild-mannered other self once again presenting itself to her. "And the kinder you behave, the kinder I will reciprocate it back. Do not make me hurt you."

Even though in pain, Norah couldn't help but regard him with confusion. Why was he even bothering hiding what he was? She had always known what kind of despicable person he was. Yet he always reverted to this congenial identity as if he could still manipulate her with it.

An acute observation suddenly crashed on her like a heavy stone as she recalled the only other time, he had shown her any animosity. Outside of the palace walls, when he attacked her by shoving her face in the sand, before Ferra/Torr had shown up and had injured him in her defense. He had kept up his act, until the symbiotes crippled him, and she had slipped away with them.

She remembered the threat shouted at her with such bitterness at her: "Where do you think you will go, Norah! Crippled or not, I will still find you. Where did you think, you were going to go anyway, my dear? Back to that old couple? Back to Jan Fai? Do you want them to share Abigail's fate as well?

He only threatened her when he thought he was losing control of the situation. It was nothing more than a last desperate effort, and instead of feeling more apprehension at the thought, knowing his manner was far worse than the kind one he portrayed, it ironically filled her the cusp with rage.

Hulin was nothing but a coward. Wicked, evil, and vile… but a coward.

Her demeanor darkened, her jaw hurting from how tight she had it, as Abigail came to mind once again…

Of course, he could be nothing other than that. It would have been easy for a coward to kill a defenseless old woman alone in a house. He couldn't have done it otherwise.

She had been the first to come back for their midday meal after leaving Jan Fai's. Finding nothing but an empty house and a note that told her to 'help herself if she was hungry.'

And making herself a bowl had been one of the most grievous mistakes of her life...

"She is with us, my dear."

Angry, hot tears spilled down the woman's face as her nails dug into his skin…

He had waited to exit out of the room when she had already been halfway done with her bowl. Thinking that Abigail, Guang, and his wife had made it for them all to enjoy.

It had shocked her seeing him there. Her fear— as well as him divulging information there were guards outside the house waiting for her— had kept her cemented inside the room for the simple conversation he wanted to have with her.

Norah didn't recollect most of the discussion, only knowing that the brief reprieve of her torture had come to an end. Tama was to take her and Erron Black to court, and afterward, she was to belong to him. Her former employer had sold her contract to Hulin, knowing it was the buyer she would detest above all others...

"It was not easy to convince her, she wanted you dead along with Abigail, but we came to a proposal," he had explained absently. Not even looking at her from across the table as he brushed his thumb against the surface; flicking a small bit of forgotten vegetable not included in the stew from the surface.

"What proposal?"

Norah would never forget the hideous half-smirk that he gave her, one so lacking remorse before he stood up from the table and opened the door to the adjacent bedroom… and she saw Abigail, naked and dismembered. The tan-stone apartment room, splattered red… and body parts, cuts dissected from her limbs, spread about like trash…

"Tama wanted me to make you both suffer in some way but did not give a preference as to how" his eyes glanced over at the copper pot on the stove. "And I am very creative."

Her eyes landed on the bowl in front of her and at the meat and vegetable stew that she had eaten…

"Do not think me cruel my dear, it was not personal. This was simply the only way for us to be together. You must understand, I had no choice," he had placated, his voice heavy with a false aloofness that was so shockingly mocking it added another layer on the unfathomable sickness she felt consume her. "And now, Abigail will always be a part of you. Forever. It is a gift that I am owed gratitude for giving you."

Norah remembered little after his words, only that she vomited into her hand that came up to cover her mouth, as she staggered to the door; hyperventilating as horror crushed every part of her being. Her vision blurred, tears falling over her as grief ambushed her in a relentless onslaught. She had stumbled haphazardly down the stairs of the shared housing building, tripping and falling over the last few. She wailed, letting out a broken caterwaul filled with sorrow and fear as she heard his footsteps behind her.

Norah ran to the door, pushing it open… and into the arms of the guards to escort her to the Iron Vaults.

"Come along. Let us have something to eat together. Our first meal as husband and wife. You must be hungry I am sure," he suddenly noted, as if he knew what she was thinking.

Her angry tear-stained countenance flashed at him with utter contempt. "No… I am NOT your wife… you… disgusting… son of a whore."

His palm spiraled in her hair, and pulled her forward, bringing her closer. Hulin regarded her with a glint of serpentine delight in his eyes as he added: "Perhaps you would like stew tonight? I can even invite Jan Fai over since you seem to enjoy that buffoon inside of you so much."

She gnashed her teeth at his repugnant double-entendre. He gave a purposeful pause before he added contemptibly: "Or perhaps his little son— what was his name, again? Ien, is it? It was such a tender moment you shared with him that morning— certainly more entertaining than watching you with that pathetic oaf you call a lover in bed the night before. Perhaps I should meet him and his father… and then we can all share a meal."

His subtle admission barraged her with fury and shock. He had hinted he had known where they had been staying, but it rattled her, even more, to hear that he had been stalking her before he left to kill Abigail. It was a grotesque confession from him, one she didn't know until now, and it catapulted her into another level of anger.

It conjured back the memory of Abigail in the other room, being tortured and killed by him while she had chosen to stay for an extended breakfast with Jan Fai and his son— who she had just been introduced to. Norah had stayed when she should have left. If she left, perhaps she could have stopped him before he had a chance to get Abigail alone. Instead, she had a pleasant time— laughing and enjoying their company— while Abigail was being murdered by the same man in front of her. And now threatening to repeat his heinous act on a child.

Coward…

The heated abhorrence she had for him intensified at the thought of his hands on the kind little boy, and she felt herself careening over the precipice at the thought of him killing yet another person just because of her. There were already so many who died because of her, the thought of yet another one was unthinkable.

Heat the intensity of dragon fire boiled and swirled in her stomach, and she felt it spread along every surface of her…

Hulin would not lay a finger on anyone else.

She would make sure of it.

With her body acting out on pure instinct and rage, she let out a feral shriek and kicked out her foot— striking him brutally in the kneecap of his splinted leg.

The Edenian let out a pained yell, the hand of his uninjured arm instinctively releasing her to wrap over his kneecap. The cane dropped with an audible clatter to the ground, as he hunched forward and stumbled back at the same time.

Norah didn't give him a moment and screamed vehemently at him. "You bastard! I'll KILL you!"

Her hands flew up and grabbed the man by the throat with enough force to propel him into the desk of the reception area with a backbreaking thud. He let out a surprised, pained howl before she dragged him by the throat and forced him to the ground. Then, feeling adrenaline pumping through her veins, she delivered her long-desired retribution— bearing it down on him in the purest and oldest form of Outworld justice: kombat.

She straddled his waist before he could even tell where he was and threw wild punches to his face, shrieking at him like a woman gone mad with every punch she landed. Her hand hurt with each malicious strike, but she didn't care— she felt nothing but her own virulent emotion fueling each blow. The baker barely felt or heard the snap of a bone— her fist contacting his nose and breaking it— as her vision turned red from a mixture of both flying blood and her anger. Tears cascaded down hotly, as she pummeled him sloppily but brutally, purging every bit of frustration and hate she felt for him with punches, slaps, and beating her fist like a sledgehammer into his face.

In the background, she heard shouting from a maid, calling to someone, and then hurried steps coming in their direction. Still, she ignored them, they didn't exist at the moment, as her hands grabbed him by the neck, pushed down, and squeezed his throat with every bit of strength she had in her.

"Damn you!" she shouted, her voice broken and shrill. "Damn you! Damn you— DAMN YOU!"

Blood poured out of his broken nose, running over his cut lips and painting them as he turned red. A vein raised on his forehead as he tried to suck in a breath... and he did nothing else underneath her. The Edenian didn't buck or kick, grab at her wrists or try to fight back. His lack of participation angered her even more and she leaned her weight more on his throat; shifting her body weight to snap his neck. Even then, he did nothing, and it infuriated her to her very core. Why was he not fighting back?!

He answered her by smiling underneath her with a bloody and bruised gall… cold, calculating, and gleeful. As if being beaten by her was what he wanted… and when she realized why, it made her blood instantly grow cold. She seized in fear above him, her grip faltering, as her body went stiff with alarm. Her heart jumped out of her chest as soon as she realized her mistake, and felt strong male hands clamp down on her upper arms and pull her off of him.

Only when Norah was pulled up, did she realize they had an audience. Two guards held her back, stepping back with her and giving Hulin air as another helped him to his feet. The Edenian made a show of it— purposely groaning and sucking in air loudly as the guard assisted him.

Meanwhile, she did nothing but fume; infuriated by him yet again. The former maid looked about the room: maids she did not recognize as well as patrons— male and female— poked their heads out of their rooms to get a peek of what was happening. Witnesses— many witnesses. It was what he wanted and for a good reason.

In Outworld, you could readily settle disputes with others if both parties agreed to kombat. In many instances, it was more proficient in settling affairs than through the People's Court— whether monetary, revenge, land, or just the price of an item. The barristers were the last option if things could not be settled quickly, or if both parties did not want to engage in kombat. But it was kombat that was the oldest and most practiced law since the birth of the realm and there were certain, uncomplicated ground rules that needed to be followed. Ones so sacred and upheld that not even the Kahn himself was exempt from following…

One of the rules being: if a citizen is attacked by another who did not offer a formal challenge to them first, they are owed retribution by their attacker…

Norah swallowed nervously; allowing only the smallest, fearful display to surface before she abandoned it and stared at Hulin with utmost rage.

...and the retribution was usually of the injured party's choosing.

The Edenian smirked briefly towards her, the rivulets of blood and smeared handprints on his face making his quick, smug gesture more ghoulish and wretched.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out the form of her erstwhile Earthrealm benefactor, Erron Black, march towards them. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her with utmost confusion before the gunslinger turned towards Hulin.

The Kahn's guard jaw locked at the sight of him, and even though Black was wordless about it, Norah could tell he had pieced together what had happened. It wasn't a hard conclusion to reach, and that it was no coincidence that her unwanted spouse was bruised and bloody and she was not. Yet every person in the room, from the two guards that held her, to the patrons and lastly to Erron Black who had to uphold it for the Kahn, knew what the law was and how unnegotiable it was.

It wasn't like before when Ferra/Torr had attacked Hulin. The Edenian had attacked the baker first and tried to suffocate her into the sand. Ferra and Torr saved her… and the time for retribution had long passed. Besides, many would argue (including the barristers) with them that him being crippled was payment enough.

Even Black himself she had attacked before Bert had pulled her off him. He could have had retribution if he wanted to but opted not to collect it (it was allowed but seldom done).

She had broken the law again, she realized, yet the only difference was the mercenary was not a coward that would stoop as low as Hulin did… and their witnesses would not turn a blind eye. Now, she was surrounded by nothing but neutral bystanders that had seen them. And three of them were palace guards who would be beheaded if they looked the other way.

Hulin had walked her knowingly into a trap— provoked her into it— knowing there were guards in the bathhouse. He had tricked her again and now she was at his mercy for whatever request he deemed suitable, and the unknowing of what it would be, sent incomprehensible dread through her.

The baker stared at Black, slumping in the guard's hold, with an expression that was a blend of regret and distress. Her face twisted in mild despair at him, the woman silently berating herself and ironically apologizing to him for being so foolish; feeling as if she had embarrassed the marksman in some obscure way simply because he was her escort.

The corners of his mouth drew up in a tight, discontent smile, his expression conveying 'no apology was needed'.

Hulin snapped his nose back into place, the crunch echoing loudly in the reception area. Black's demeanor darkened instantly, as if the sound alone irked him, and drew in a long breath with a pedigree of annoyance, his eyes sharp at the Edenian.

The battered man glanced with fervent hatred at Erron, glanced at her with the same intensity, before scowling at the gunslinger again; disgusted by their silent camaraderie. The former cupbearer's brow knitted together at the palace interrogator's brisk, unhinged flicker of rancor towards the gunslinger. It was so odd… Norah was the one that attacked him, but it was Erron Black he detested the most.

The Edenian wiped his free hand over his mouth, removing the angry red runnel that ran over his lips. "I am owed," Hulin proclaimed to the guards and anyone within earshot. He raised an irate, and blood-stained finger towards her. "This woman attacked me without cause or permission."

The interrogator feigned unfamiliarity as if she were nothing but a stranger to him. Begrudgingly, it worked. Besides Black, the other patrons seemed to accept it and looked at the 'Earthrealm' woman with disapproval. Hulin played the victim very well— like a seasoned thespian— and the fact that his arm was in a sling and a splinted leg, also garnered more sympathy from their onlookers.

Norah gave a bitter, mocking laugh at him as she addressed the guards while continuing to glare acrimoniously at him. "This woman had every bit of cause, and she would do it again and finish what he started if given the chance."

She spat at his shoes, and the guards simply gripped her tighter in warning to keep her anger sedated. It was then she realized, as she watched the other guard hand Hulin his cane, that there would be little help from them even if she told them how repugnant of a spouse he was.

No matter what she said, it would be a moot point to the guards, who regarded the two bickering bathhouse patrons with a dull interest in details. The fact was she fought, and he didn't. She was the aggressor; the guards saw, as well as an untold number of others. It, unfortunately, was a clear case for the three indifferent palace guards, who were expected to uphold the laws of Outworld. So much so, the two men holding her, seemed somewhat bored as if they had been interrupted from other important things and forced to delegate over a simple affair—one they cared nothing about. All they wanted was it to be settled quickly so they could go on their way.

Yet, even as a duteous Outworld citizen, Norah downright refused to let Hulin have his moment.

The stubborn, slighted woman shook her head at him, her body tense with rage. Her bruised hand squeezed into a tight fist. She barely registered the dull ache that she felt as a repercussion from hitting the hard parts of his face. The baker didn't care if her hands were broken— she would have used them to beat him again into a pulp if given the chance, as he regarded her contempt back with a bloody and proud countenance.

"I owe you nothing!" she declared venomously. "What I did to you was the least you deserved after what you did to Abigail and me!"

Hulin's eyes narrowed minutely, yet nevertheless, continued with his performance for the guards and the others.

"Harsh words are nothing but air, my dear, and they pale in comparison to the blow a hand can do— which you unjustly gave me," he licked his bloody bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "I simply showered you with words that were perhaps too brazen now that I realize it, but it was you who drew blood for my… carnal comments."

His eyes glanced around the room, absently addressing anyone still watching while still speaking with her. "You could have simply walked away. You offered me no chance to leave and if you were so disgusted by what I said, you should have asked for Kombat to protect your honor— but you didn't and behaved like an animal, instead. I am the one that is owed the apology in the eyes of the Gods — and I will have it!" His sour expression hardened even more as his eyes shot back to her. "Or I will take you in front of the barristers to settle this and tell them all of what I accuse you of."

The baker wiggled fiercely, wanting to spring at him like a feral beast for his acidic warning which she saw as nothing but another repetition of his threat from earlier. The guards held her tight, their grips uncaring as she tried to squirm out of their hold.

"Or we can settle this here at this moment," Hulin came forward a step, his weight on his cane, as his demeanor and tone grew imperious. "And it is I that gets to choose what I want from you. As it is the law, my dear."

The woman exhaled out of her nose curtly, her eyes narrowed at him as he gave her the smallest curve of an insidious smile before letting it disappear.

Her confidence floundered. It was nearly impossible to tell what he had in mind; he had almost no limitations on what he could propose as payment. What she had done was considered a grievous, and spineless infraction that was ironically looked-down upon by the citizens of Outworld, whose daily lives were drenched in unspeakable brutalities. It was the weight of how cowardly it looked, and such caitiff acts were a sign of a person's weak will… and weakness was not tolerated or fit to thrive in her birthrealm. So, whatever he wanted, he could have— he could have her executed if he truly wished it.

Terrifyingly though, she would have welcomed execution, as his eyes suddenly drifted to her chest before he pointedly met her eyes again. "And I know what it is I want from you so this deal can be… consummated."

She shivered at his tone but wasn't the only one that caught his nefarious inclination, and out of the corner of her eye, Norah saw Black's fist tighten as he pushed his way into the discussion. He stepped in front of the man, blocking her from view. Yet, over the mercenary's shoulder, she could still see Hulin raise his eyebrows cynically at Black's protective gesture.

"And I say— you aren't owed shit," the gunslinger growled, his stance tall and baleful towards Hulin.

"Forgive me, what did you just say?" The Edenian chided.

The bounty hunter gave a derisive, airy scoff towards him. "From what I heard, it sounds like you had what was comin' to you. So as an Emperor's minister"— his gaze turned acutely to the guard next to the interrogator before back to Hulin— "I say we're done here."

The baker blinked at the back of Erron's head, her mouth opening and closing in astonishment. Norah couldn't do anything other than stare wordlessly; both equal parts stunned and thankful for his engagement. Black didn't have to help her, the situation had nothing to do with him— it was between her and Hulin— and yet he decided to intervene.

She was speechless at him offering himself as her shield. It was something she would never expect him to do in front of so many others. He took the blow, opting to pull her from her vulnerable position and offer himself and his reputation up for scrutiny while also safeguarding her. It was a sacrifice on his part, one she suspected he never did for anyone— his reputation was everything to him— and she exhaled a shaky breath and felt herself swell with gratitude.

Yet, as noble as it was, it still did little to help.

"And yet, even as an Emperor's dog— apologies. Emperor's delegate," he corrected, his eyes dark with ridicule. "You still have no authority."

"I outgun you with authority," Black shot back, his eyes just as viperous. "And I say, leave it, idiot."

"Guns mean little in Outworld, ido—excuse me… immigrant, and certainly do not contend against the Kode of Kombat," he declared.

Black took a step forward, his voice lower and more dangerous. "How 'bout I show you how much they contend?"

Norah gave an appreciative smirk behind him but felt it wiped from her mouth when Hulin chortled at the gunslinger's perilous threat.

"You act as if they would make much difference— she broke the law and there is no bluff you can utter that will deter me from receiving my compensation," the Edenian ribbed, his eyes looking at Norah briefly. "I will have my payment from her."

Black visibly stiffened; bristling impatiently as he squared up. "Walk away… Or the next payment you'll see is the coins they place on your eyes."

Hulin's expression blackened at the Kahn's guard. "Is that a threat?"

The bounty hunter gave a mocking scoff. "You're a quick one."

His expression tightened in malice. It was a brief, incredibly earnest reaction from the Edenian, but as quickly as it appeared, Hulin was able to make it disappear. He shook his head, looking at the ex-Earthrealmer with faux puzzlement before he eyed his audience briefly again; semi-addressing them as well as Erron.

"You seem convinced that my intentions are heinous," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "I am not sure how matters are dealt with in Earthrealm, but we are not as barbarous as you think us to be. What I want is not immoral. Quite altruistic— especially considering how unjustly she attacked me. All I wish is for her to assist a hindered man back to his quarters. To walk side by side with the chance of conversation— which was all I proposed before she battered me. Nothing more."

The baker narrowed her eyes skeptically at her spouse; fear, and distrustfulness towards his trite request clamoring against each other for her attention. Yet, there was no feeling she had more of than the other. Norah completely doubted his word about how innocent it was and felt nothing but fear of what his true intentions were. There was always something else, some trap that he set up meticulously because that was what he enjoyed; watching whoever he was tormenting fumble over his ambiguous intentions and then suffer in whatever true quandary he concocted. The man and his ways were as forked as a snake's tongue.

Erron Black, seemed to understand that as well, and much to her surprise, refused to back away from his impromptu role as her stalwart protector. "It ain't happening," he objected with a firm shake of his head. "So, limp your crippled ass back to your room alone, or I'll make you hobble back to it even slower than you move now."

The palace employee cocked his head at the gunslinger arrogantly. "Are you finished with your threats? They have lost their stings," his eyes studied the bounty hunter and his cleaner appearance. "As you seem to have. Female Outworld healers have such gifted hands, don't they? They can make almost any laceration disappear, can't they?"

"Drop it…" The mercenary shot the man a dire warning in the shape of a menacing stare— one nearly as deadly as his tone. "Before I drop you."

"My, my…" Hulin mused smugly, his eyes flashing to his wife briefly, "how the subject of women agitates you, Erron Black. Is there a reason?"

Whispers echoed about the corridor of the bathhouse as patrons murmured to each other, and although they could not make out the conversation with clarity, the main focus of their discussions were about Erron. Norah looked about the hallways, their attention fixing minutely on her before their gaze found the gunslinger again. An obvious high-born man and another male with seemingly no relation to each other next door to his private quarters, leaned in towards the other and disclosed something. Despite she could not make out the exact words, they regarded her disparagingly as their eyes flickered from Black to her.

The ex-cupbearer hung her head… it wasn't hard to understand what they thought of her, and they weren't the only ones who seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Norah could see it on all of their faces— they looked at her all relatively the same albeit some with more animosity than others.

They looked at her as if she was some commonplace prostitute— Erron Black's prostitute. Why else would he throw himself in front of her? She felt torn between feeling humiliated and feeling insulted, though she understood why they would think of her as such, and surprisingly, felt more regretful and offended for Erron than herself.

With his reputation in the bathhouse, as well as his ego, what other conclusion could they come to other than the crudest one. She swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of their cynical eyes on them all, and feeling as if it was her fault— which it was. Once again, he was being derided for standing up for her. It wasn't as harsh as watching people jeering from the stands as he endured the lashes at the Coliseum, but the guilt she felt was just as hefty.

"You and your thick-skull are what are agitatin' me," Black corrected in an impatient snarl, before he added: "She doesn't have to do shit for you."

Hulin also took note of the murmurs going around and cocked his head to the side, giving the mercenary a look half-humored and half-condescending. "You are as stubborn as you are ignorant to our laws, aren't you outlander? Do not worry, I just wish to have a friendly conversation with someone, to get to know them better. I have missed discussions since my wife passed away. I will not deny I did want company, but now I have no interest in her now that I know she is obviously, well…your whore," his expression turned turbulent. "So do not interfere anymore with my request or I will change my mind and have her whipped like one instead."

Norah's face crimped in rage at the same time Erron's body tensed.

The Edenian raised his chin pompously at Erron. "As a palace employee, I can tell you how painful Outworld whips are and they are no kinder to the gentler sex"— Hulin raised a calculated eyebrow at the Kahn's guard, his eyes glinting with taunting mirth— "Have you ever known a whip's bite Erron Black? Something tells me you have. At the Coliseum? How many lashes did you take? I am afraid I lost count— "

The gunslinger's hands came up before he could barely finish the word, clamping on the fabric of Hulin's tunic with both frightful speed and strength, and it was the first time Norah saw a genuine flicker of fear in the Edenian's eyes. The guard by Hulin's side intervened, placing his hands on both the gunslinger's chest and Hulin's to wedge them off each other. They tussled, Black looking as if he wanted nothing more than to throttle the man with vengeful and determined fury— startling both her and their audience. The former cupbearer heard someone shout at them, disparaging the gunman for 'attacking an injured man' and she heard others chime in as well.

The gunslinger, either didn't care or notice, as he wrestled to get past the guard. The other two guards released her, coming over to grab at him and pull them apart. Hulin's eyes flickered to her's briefly, and for a moment, she saw the same conniving look he had given her when she had her hands around his throat.

Her brain registered what he was doing, her body five steps behind and did nothing but freeze in trepidation and stood there stupidly behind them. Hulin was doing the same thing yet again. He wanted Black to attack him, and she had a good idea why he wanted the gunslinger to owe him.

She heard his words outside of the palace, before Hulin gave Black back his knife. "...if you have any wish to remain employed, you would do well to stay clear of my wife."

Panicking, knowing that he was trying to make good on his promise, she spoke up; her voice hoarse but heard.

"Wait— stop it!" she called out, taking a step forward and thrusting a hand on Erron's chest; reaching in between the gunslinger and the guard. Black hesitated, his movement turning less insistent and turned to look at her. She gave a pregnant pause, her eyes firm and indicating a command to him to stop. "I'll do it. I will walk with him"— her expression turned astringent as she shot her eyes towards her husband— "Then I will not owe you a thing after that."

Hulin's fingers tapped on the outside of his uninjured thigh, over his pocket, in thought as a small snarl curved cautiously from him before dropping instantly. The Edenian not wanting anyone else to see that her remark bothered him.

"All I ask, my dear— " his eyes glinted with an absinthal quality before he added deliberately— "is that you pay your debt to me."

She reciprocated his acidic disposition back, only this time she didn't keep it reserved in just her eyes. She felt Erron tense under her palm—the marksman giving a curt, stringent inhale of air through his nose— before she turned her gaze back to him. He looked at her, and the silent command he carried was concrete and understood easily to her: Don't.

She couldn't help but cringe morosely at him— ironically feeling more remorseful towards him than herself. He had tried to help her, and almost fell into the same pit, but if there was anyone she preferred to be the martyr between the two of them, she rather it be her. She couldn't endure him undertaking another whipping because of her — literally or figuratively. Too many people had spilled blood because of her, and she was not willing to let him repeat it again. It was time for her to endure her own whip this time.

Norah shuddered, feeling her shoulders slump as she could feel Hulin's cold gaze flicker between her and Erron Black. Her spouse would not make her payment that easy for her. She doubted he would simply let her go. He would make sure she didn't leave so he could fulfill whatever it was he had planned for her since marrying her.

Feeling dread pierce her heart at the sudden ominous realization, she looked at Erron and gave a simple nod; the corner of her eyes prickling with tears.

"Then consider it more than paid."

It was a response to Hulin's question, but the entirety of it, from the grim articulation to the hefty secret weight each word seemed to carry, was all for Black.

The former Earthrealmer blinked at her; taken aback and looking as if someone had struck him unexpectedly. She grimaced at him, and in return so did he. They both knew it was an acceptance to an apology, one tempered to be clandestine due to their audience, but it was also one that was premature. Norah had to say it, because she suspected she would not have another opportunity to do so otherwise. It wasn't entirely genuine, but… there was an indication of potential it would have been fully... if they had more time.

It is better than not saying anything I suppose. She thought to herself. Her eyes stared into his before dropping her attention to her hand still placed on his chest. Discreetly, she gave a small curl of her fingers against him, nodding her thanks to him, before pulling her hand away.

Erron's visage was cool and stone-like, but his shoulders slumped despite the firm grip from the guards on him. He detested the situation, but recognized as much as she did, this was the only way to bring the argument to a finale. He couldn't help her with this— it was her mess— and she didn't want to see him punished again for trying to clean it up himself.

Feeling everyone's eyes on her, and feeling as if there was no other option, Norah swallowed and walked towards Hulin. She took a moment to stop in front of him, the man crowing smugly, and flashed vehemence in her eyes at him before she pivoted to the side, facing the ornate door of the Kahn's Springs, and waited.

Hulin took it as an invitation, and draped his free arm around her shoulders, and leaned his weight on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her husband give a wink towards the gunslinger. Black and her shared a scowl towards the man as her hand came up and grasped him around his wrist— tight— before she walked him to the door and completed her task: assisting a crippled man back to his room.

They weren't alone. One of the guards trailed behind them, ensuring the payment was completed, and she felt his fingers press into the fabric of her dress at the meat of her shoulder; whether as a warning or annoyance they were being followed, was hard to tell. Nevertheless, she kept as quiet and resolute as she could.

Her eyes stared straight-ahead as she walked with him, his proximity and touch feeling as repulsive as a python wrapping itself on her. Her eyes burned, feeling on the verge of angry tears spilling.

Despite it, she kept her mouth pressed firm, as she exited out the door with him limping beside her. She took a final glance over her shoulder at the gunslinger behind the body of the guard following them. Even though he was free of the guards' hands, he watched her retreating form go through the door with penitent ire; there were no hands on him, but he still fought for control. He wanted to come after them, spring from where he stood to rip the man apart, but he couldn't, and it bothered him. To her surprise, it bothered him alot.

The baker's strength melted at the look he gave her, and she once again felt repentant that it was all her fault to begin with. She was careless, and it almost cost him.

The door closed, providing a daunting barricade between them all, and cemented her dire situation and the realization of it even more. As she walked him up the stairs, the man's weight bringing her down as if she was stepping in puddles of quicksand with each footfall up the stairs, her mind focused on the future: wondering what exactly was waiting behind his door and what would happen once he finally did have her alone.

Frankly, even in the presence of the guard, as she continued to assist him through the palace, she had been somewhat surprised he had not said or did anything for the most part; only talking to give her directions on where to go. It had only made the journey far worse the more time went by. She almost wanted to snark ridicule at him for being so mute after his lie that all he wanted to do was talk to her like they were a couple hand in hand in the palace gardens.

It wasn't hard for Norah to guess why he was waiting; it was almost hand-written in ink all over his face. He was waiting till they were alone. No guards, no allies or witnesses, before the true colors of his character were fully on display.

Instead, he said nothing of interest, and it only answered the worrisome theory clawing at the back of her skull. And not knowing exactly what he had planned, but could guess, made her stomach twist into a knot. It was the anticipation that was the most oppressive element; as if knowing she had been poisoned and she was waiting for the inevitable, mortal outcome.

She didn't get much time to contemplate on what it could be, just knowing he wanted her at his chamber door for a reason. As they neared his room after what seemed like both hours and mere seconds; time both slowing and speeding up during the entirety of the uncomfortable trudge to his room. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of his plain wooden door and looked at it the same way she had with the bathhouse door earlier. Except… there would be nothing pleasant behind it this time…

"Open it, please" he instructed, his tone even.

She reached and grasped the cold metal knob; feeling as if she was gripping a rotting skull still caked with flesh and blood, and pushed it open—

It was the smell that hit her first, and Norah was surprised she didn't catch it before the door opened. It was overbearingly musty… and it stabbed ice cold horror inside her chest. She had smelled the same putrid fragrance in her cell at the Iron Vaults— with the former cellmate decomposing in the corner. However, there was a problem that completely left her flabbergasted: where was it coming from?

A lingering and heavy delay hung in the air— the guard. Hulin and Norah waited for someone to speak first, before it was the Edenian who turned towards the palace guard with a polite smile. The mask once again on.

"Thank you," he said with a demure bow of his head. "The debt is satisfied."

Norah tried to move his arm off of her; shifting to duck underneath it before his fingers grabbed tightly on her shoulder like clamp— and she regrettably faltered at the small display of his crushing strength.

Her eyes went to the guard, pleading silently for help— but he had already spun on his heel and left. Norah almost wanted to sob at how quick and uncaring his departure had been. It obliterated all hope.

Now they were alone, and she could do nothing but stare at her new dungeon in terror.

Every inch of the man's room was immaculate; properly organized and minimalistic that she was afraid she was disturbing the neat tranquility of his most personal space by just passing her eyes over every surface. There was nothing of note as far as furniture was concerned: a bed neatly made with dark and white sheets by a wooden wardrobe made of dark wood. And finally, a table, with two sets of chairs as plain as the desk and room was. It was all so, boring, and yet alarming. Ironically, it made her think of Erron's room and how simplistic he kept his. The only difference being that Hulin had no balcony and the proper placement of each item made Black's room seem like he was a hoarder.

Norah inhaled sharply, her chest seizing in terror, when she felt the man's nails start to dig in her shoulder like eager talons when she tried to take a step back— halting her in his bruising grip.

Also, if she had a choice between whether to be standing in the doorframe of either room, she would choose the gunslinger's without hesitation. The reason being, and one she knew with complete certainty, was that Erron wasn't hiding a body in his room and Hulin possibly was.

Hulin craned his head over his shoulder— making sure the guard was finally gone — before his hand fell from her shoulder and down to his side…

"Usually, I carry my wives over the threshold of their new home, but you will forgive me if I decide not to with you. My condition prevents me from doing so," Hulin uttered behind her, a bite to his words.

Norah registered him moving his hand around by his thigh, by his pocket again, before she felt him step in closer behind her; his proximity making her feel suffocated and vulnerable…

He leaned into her ear, his voice dripping with both malice at her and pride towards himself. "But don't fret. You will still call it home. Even if you have to enter it on your knees."

She spun on her heels in a frenzied haste, moving to shove past him. Her intention and desire to escape him as fast as she could was the only thing she registered as she turned…

Hulin was already waiting, expecting her to bolt, as he lifted his hand and blew a chartreuse colored powder he held in his palm towards her face. It erupted in a thick, astringent cloud in her face before she could react.

On instinct, she fumbled backwards into his room to get away from it as it blinded her. Norah choked, wheezing for air, as her hand came up to cover her mouth and nose as her eyes screwed shut. She coughed from behind her hand, her lungs burning as she tried to get rid of whatever concoction had entered her and drained the strength from her muscles…

By the Gods…NO…

She let out an audible whimper of pain as she dropped to her suddenly exhausted knees, and if it wasn't for her hands coming up to brace the floor at the last second, she would have hit face first into the floor.

It didn't matter, she would be face down soon enough she assumed, as she continued to sputter and gasp for air. Whatever it was he had given her, made her limbs feel like stone pillars; heavy and stiff. Her arms shook from exertion as she clawed across the room on her weak hands and knees. The baker let out a strangled sound from the back of her throat, one sounding between a fearful sob and angry determination as she fought to stay upright while the world reeled around her as if she were drunk. And unfortunately, she entered his room in her frightened and desperate delirium to get away from him.

The baker felt her arms finally give out and she grunted when she hit the floor prone. Still, she pulled herself along the floor; her nails digging desperately into the stone floor for an anchor as she crawled pathetically away. White spots danced in her vision from behind her heavy eyelids as she felt her head pound angrily, as if someone was driving a nail into it. She panted for air feeling as if she was gagging on her own tongue, but managed to cry out a small protest as she felt the powder start to work its way into her system...

"N-no…no… no!"

Her legs refused to move as an unusually hot and numbing sensation took hold of them and traveled up her thighs and her torso… worming its way up her body. Her hand lifted to her chest and dug her fingernails at the skin at her throat; the woman wanting nothing more than to rip her lungs out of her own body if it meant it would all stop.

Her vision blacked out when she felt the warmth coil around her head. It was brief, and the next thing she felt was a foot nudging under her stomach to roll her over onto her back.

Her eyelids opened languidly after a full minute— and it was all she could do. Norah couldn't even muster the strength to move her head, as she stared up at the hazy ceiling and her distorted husband's face looking down at her.

He spoke to her; his mouth moving but his voice as muddled as his features were. It was as if she was looking and hearing him underwater.

Hulin limped out of view and she heard the muffled slide of a drawer being opened — the man pulling something from his desk— before he walked over to the door. As the heavy wood thudded close, the sharp pressure on her skull receded and was replaced by a powerful, dull headache. She blinked more, her vision clearing, as her head bobbed around. Still, it was the only thing she could move, and she lifted it just in time to see him lock the door to his room with a dagger in his uninjured hand.

Her vision and hearing improved gradually as the Edenian's eyes stayed on the door while he locked it. The tiny sound of the lock latching was almost as dreadful to hear as his blasé explanation of what the powder was:

"Dan-jed powder if you are curious. It's a common jungle mushroom that is relatively harmless as long as you do not consume too much of it," he raised an eyebrow as he glanced over his shoulder. "But did you know, when it is mixed with the smallest amount of Kytinn venom, dehydrated and then crushed into a fine powder, it's a strong, albeit temporary paralyzing solution? I use it often, and it helped to subdue prisoners to the execution block."

Hulin clicked his tongue before correcting himself; his footfalls measured as he walked towards her: "Well… we used to. D'Vorah is no longer with us, after all, and anything Kytinn within the city walls is contraband."

"Supplies are hard to come by…" the foot of this cane stopped next to her head, before he added. "...but they are not impossible to get…"

Norah glared as hatefully as she could up at him. Unfortunately, twisting her features up at him pummeled her with another wave of nausea, causing her eyes to roll as she dug the back of her skull into the floor.

Hulin gave her a rough pat on her cheek with the end of his cane— jarring her.

"Stay with me my dear. I would like you awake," he commented. He looked down at her adoringly, his train of thought drifting, and related to her in an affectionate sigh: "You look even more beautiful this way…"

His genuine admission was almost as terrifying as the dagger he held.

He awkwardly shuffled to sit next to her unresponsive body; sitting beside her with his legs stretched out as much as the cumbersome splint allowed. He looked down at her, the ankle of his splinted leg beside her head as her eyes went to his knife; one that was silver, sharp and softly curved at the end and far too slender to be used for any sort of kombat. In fact, it reminded her of Carver's chef knives that he used to skin fish with…

She attempted to scream for help, but the only sound that came out was a tiny, pitiful croak; her voice strangled by the powder still in her system. Nobody would hear her, and upon realizing it, she discovered that another thing that did work was her eyes… and she felt hot rivers of frustrated and despaired tears run down the side of her face...

He was going to flay her alive.

Hulin rested the knife in his lap for a moment, his hand coming towards her face to pull a strand of hair away from her face tenderly as he hushed her like a father to an upset child. Norah turned her head away from him, seething, before he planted his hand on her cheek to turn her tear-stained expression back to him.

"I can imagine how this must look to you, my dear," he admitted, glancing at the knife briefly before he gave a sheepish, almost boyish chuckle at her. His innocent demeanor would have looked handsome on him, if he wasn't a psychopath mordantly taunting her.

His eyes blackened at her, and he flashed her the white of his teeth, as his hand came down towards her ankle and grabbed at the hem of her dress. His eyes never left hers as he drank in her reaction with dark mirth, and slowly dragged his hand over her leg. Her body stiffened under his palm while he groped her skin softly; the fabric hanging in his fingers as he revealed more and more of her bare skin. Panic hit her and her thoughts immediately went to willing her limbs to push him off. Her ankle jerked slightly while her hand barely lifted off the ground. Terrifyingly, the rest of her was nothing but dead weight, and her eyes bugged wide in alarm… she could do nothing.

"And that's exactly what I want. I want you to think the worst," he finished earnestly, his tone devastatingly deviant.

He bundled her dress on the outside of her hip, exposing her leg to him while keeping the other relatively covered. Hulin picked up the knife, ghosting the tip along the meaty upper-portion of her thigh with enough pressure to leave an irritated line in its wake.

She whimpered, her voice still small but louder than before, as she felt some of the shackles of his potion starting to wane — unbearably slow. She managed to lift her wrist again, the act taking every bit of strength and will power she had, and grabbed the bundle of her skirt at her hip and tried to weakly pull it down to cover herself.

Her spouse huffed a humored scoff at her and simply flicked her limp hand away with the unsharp length of his knife. Her hand thudded to the ground, sending a dull ache through it, but she barely felt it as her eyes landed on his pants, the knife and his hand no longer blocking his lap, to see the crotch of his pants start to tighten…

She let out a meek wail of horror, her voice still restricted, as she flung her head to the side, trying to look anywhere but at him. He curtly grabbed her chin, the knife settling back in his lap to do so, as he turned her tear-stained gaze towards him.

"Don't flatter yourself, you arrogant little slut," he snapped, spitting the words with annoyance down at her as he gripped her jaw tight. He stared down at her cross, as if he was offended by what she assumed he would do. He gave her a small playful pat with his palm to her cheek, as if he was giving a small teasing reprimand. His expression turned haughty as he calmed and clarified to her: "I am not so common. I have more complexity than that."

When he was sure he had her attention, he let go, letting her shiver on the floor as he pretentiously explained: "Seeing you so terrified..." he picked his knife back up and returned the tip to her thigh. "Seeing that beautiful look in your eyes…" he dragged the blade around, making it bite across her skin in random lines.

She sucked in a breath through her nostrils as something wet trickled and ran down the outside of her thigh...

Blood.

He cut her so easily…

He nodded in approval; seemingly satisfied she understood how dangerous the instrument he had in his hand truly was.

"... and seeing that you know I have your life in my hands and could kill you at any moment I wish to… or keep you alive if I feel generous…." his hand stopped and his eyes shot to her as he flashed her with a core-wrenching, grotesque evil grin. "... will always arouse me more than sticking my cock into any alive cunt will."

Hearing his foul admission, with every word dripping with malice and amusement, made her want to heave her soul out of her body and go anywhere but where he was— to the Netherrealm if she could. Anywhere to escape witnessing what he was going to do next to her body…

He traced the tip again on her flesh, burning more lines along her skin, "You have given me much trouble, Norah. I have never had to work this hard for a wife," he commented almost absently to himself, though his eyes stared accusingly at her.

"I am unsure what to do with you now, if I am completely honest," Hulin admitted, the blade still dancing along her skin, as he looked down at the lines he made. She didn't understand what he was doing at first, the man seemingly lost in his work outlining a strange pattern on her, before she focused on the lines themselves… and realized he was tracing his own name into her flesh.

"It would be a waste of my time and effort I suppose to kill you. Especially after all you have put me through," he admitted, shrugging his uninjured shoulder lightly. "Besides, I think Sera would enjoy the company of another wife."

She blinked in confusion at him (who was Sera?) before his blade stopped and pressed into her thigh with enough force to break the skin; her lip trembled.

"But… considering all that you have done to me, maybe I should, and satisfy my needs now."

He ran his tongue over his teeth before he sucked them. "I simply cannot decide! I will leave it up to you, then, hmm? Tell me how generous I am. How grateful you are to stay alive and be my wife," he demanded, the dried blood from her earlier punches and the dark bruises forming on his face making him look more demonic. "Tell me… or I will rip your throat out with my teeth."

She stared at him, ice cold and pitiful and unable to speak before he gave a laugh.

"Sorry my dear. I forgot you don't have your voice quite yet. Nod your head, then, to tell me how you appreciate my kindness," he ordered plainly yet condescendingly, as if he had asked a servant to fetch him a glass of water. He paused and smiled fondly, as if he was recalling some pleasant nostalgic childhood memory. "You remind me a little of Abigail at this moment," he snorted. "So… frozen."

Rage engulfed her at his comment. Not only would she not move her head an inch for him, but she collected everything she had in her to move her hand instead, trying to raise it to let him know how she felt about the comparison. One of her hands lifted and traveled through the air in a languid and weak slap towards his face, before her arm fell and draped across her torso; landing heavily on her with enough weight to make her let out a grunt.

He smirked. "Yes… very much like Abigail. Powder and fight and all."

She bared her teeth at him as the cupbearer brand, the one he had given her so long ago, stared up at him.

"That was such a nice time. It was a shame we couldn't do more, my dear. You should really appreciate Tama for that" — he suddenly shook his head, an annoyed huff leaving him — "You are distracting me. Where were we?"

The knife pressed into her skin, the tip piercing more into her flesh, and she let out a pained, silent whine. Her fear towards him instantly reinstated.

"Ah yes… gratitude. And how I have yet to see it. It is clear you do not appreciate me and the deal I offer. You should. It will be easier if you accept me as your husband here and now… and less painful." He raised an eyebrow as he stared down at her thigh; his tone low: "Maybe you need help to make up your mind?"

His words sucked the air out of her lungs as she tensed underneath him.

"You should know, I do not truthfully believe in rings as testaments of marriage. They are far too easy to remove as you have shown. You shouldn't have removed yours. That is hurtful, my dear. Even if I do not believe in such silly things. But I do have a remedy… one that will prevent you— or anyone— from ever mistaking who you truly are married to again."

He pushed the knife in deep and dragged out the first line of his name on her skin before she felt him lift a centimeter and kept going… forming another letter.

A cry of pain finally escaped from her powder-altered throat; her eyes pressed shut as she tried to worm away from under his touch. Her hands jerked up, her arms lifting like limbs of a puppet as her body squirmed in pain. But she still couldn't do anything; she could do nothing but quiver and bleed under his knife and gaze as he gloated at her miserable, immobile state. The knife lifted from her skin, her thigh wet and warm from her own blood, as she opened her eyes at him finally—

She let out a startled gasp of protest, the man suddenly leaning forward and placing his ear to her chest; his head resting above her breasts. She held her breath, not daring to move a muscle (not that she could if she wanted to), as the man folded awkwardly forward on her. Norah felt the flat-side of the knife press into the inside of her thigh when he gave a pleased hum as he listened to her heart hammering inside her chest.

"Your heart is beating so fast…" he told her, the pleasure evident in his voice as he rotated the knife— pressing the sharp length into her inner thigh. "… and I cannot wait to taste it once I am finally done with you…"

He shuddered out an ardent sigh, the air from his lungs hitting her chest and making it feel as if maggots were crawling on her skin.

"By the Gods…" he murmured to himself. "I can have a little... I have been patient enough for you."

Norah let out another strangled wail of pain as he dragged the knife down towards her knee. The blade caught under her flesh and stripped a thin layer in its wake as if he was peeling skin from a fruit.

Her eyes screwed shut — agony ambushing her as she tried to flail limply away from both the white, hot pain as well as his weight on her chest. She managed to get her hands up, her palms pressing into the top of his hair in an attempt to push him off. Though the poison was leaving, her feeble strength made her feel like an infant pushing against a brick wall. Every nerve in her thigh felt as if it was on fire as he continued to go down — the inside of her leg covered in thick, hot blood… and she felt him smile against her chest.

The baker let out an angry, panicked shriek, mustering every bit of defensive ire inside her to help fuel her arms, as she stopped pushing and instead grabbed his head. Norah tugged and scratched her stiff fingers on whatever she could grab— seeing if ripping his hair, ears or whatever she had a hold of could incite enough pain to deter him.

His head eventually did lift, her hands taking a few strands of his hair from his scalp before they heavily fell to her sides. He hovered above her, as if her hands hadn't just ripped his hair out, to gloat at her in his own brand of hideous fashion…

Hulin lifted the knife from her leg, his hand completely red from her blood and lifted an odd misshapen, thin red rectangle pinched and dangling in his fingers into view… and dipped it into his mouth in one bite.

She wanted to vomit watching him, especially when she came to the gut-wrenching realization that it was a flayed patch of her skin he just put in his mouth.

To make matters worse, he didn't swallow it immediately, and instead shifted it around in his mouth with a contented moan coming from the back of his throat. His bruised and bloody face, with his jaw bouncing as he sampled her in his mouth, made him look absolutely wicked.

He was delighted.

He was enjoying it… enjoying her fear and how it tasted.

Norah's eyes twisted shut at him— she couldn't look at him as disgust swarmed on her like flies on a corpse.

The knife clattered audibly to the ground, and before she could even open her eyes, Hulin's hand gripped her chin tightly. His fingers dug so hard into her cheeks it made her lips pucker up, as he turned her gaze back to him. He showed his teeth, and the skin he had carved from her leg pressed between them in show, before he sucked it back into his mouth and swallowed, gulping audibly and purposefully.

"I knew you would taste as delicious as you look."

A repulsed grimace washed over her face, her blood on his hand smearing across her own face, as she twisted her features into rancor even under his stone grip. Her hands came up and grabbed at his wrist and hand; trying to pull them off with her still, lethargic strength. She pushed, but he didn't move, and she held onto his limb… realizing something.

After what seemed like an eternity of feeling the elixir loosening its hold on her as he cut her, she was finally able to move more than previous. Yet, it still wasn't leaving fast enough, and she couldn't swallow back the defeated whimper that escaped her as she felt her leg twinge painfully. Fear making her heart thump hard in her chest. By the Gods, please just let it be gone… please just let him be done.

"I've barely begun, my wife. Barely a morsel," he declared, as if he knew her thoughts, before his expression turned sour. "Now, nod your head. Or I will give you more than a fair taste of how cruel I can be."

She was petrified underneath him, knowing every word was not a threat but a promise. She believed him, because she finally saw him in all his true light. He was a monster and he loved it.

Even then, seeing all of him clearly, she still saw one flaw— one small act still playing out before her. One mask he still tried to wear.

His unmasked persona was both expected and far more terrifyingly unexpected. Norah had anticipated him to be sadistic, but not at how… indecisive he seemed. It was behind his eyes; how close to the cusp of losing control and unleashing himself on her he was. He wanted to dive in. To flay her more and devour her as she watched him do it. To lose complete control.

Yet, ironically, he wanted control over her and himself. It was almost as if he couldn't decide if he should gorge himself, and revel, or relish it slowly to enjoy the experience of tormenting her. He didn't know what he was supposed to do— which one would bring him the most pleasure… and maybe that was why he had asked her instead.

Even in her scared state, one that would render anyone incognizant, she could feel the numbness in her torso and limbs finally dissipate. She could move better, though her body felt as if it had been stampeded. Even her throat felt less clogged… and watching him battle with himself, gave her an idea.

Norah had to play this out. To act. She had to make him think she was still helpless even though she could move. She had to make it seem like he had all the control still (before he changed his mind and gave in) and when his guard was down, she could fight and escape him.

But how long could she endure it?

Her eyes flickered to the door and the temptation to do so now was almost impossible to stifle. The part of her that was adamant about fighting against him now when she had the chance. To flee and to be impatient. A part of her, that she guessed, was probably one of the reasons why he picked her in the first place: her quick temper and stubbornness.

Her memory returned her back to the confrontation with him outside the palace gates; to the moment he took the knife from her. Already knowing her well enough to know she had one because he had anticipated she would.

"Believe me when I say… I didn't buy you because I thought you were stupid… however, do not assume you are smarter than me…"

Maybe it was all just a game to him. Maybe… he always intended to manipulate her, lie, torment her… before killing her. Because it gave him satisfaction to see who would break first… and maybe that was why he was holding back all along. He was waiting on her to break.

As soon as she gave him what he wanted, he would kill her. He was a liar that enjoyed waving a pitiful speck of hope above her… and it was his plan. If she nodded her head… he would have her. To believe he wouldn't hurt her anymore if she complied before diving the knife into her heart, was cruel. She expected nothing less of him, and it would accomplish doing what he planned to begin with: torture her, emotionally and physically, before he killed her… and ate her.

Everything he told her about wanting a wife, how he would treat her fairly if she was submissive to him, it was all a lie. All of it was a game. There was no doubt in her mind he had no intention of letting her live after tonight. She could see it all over his face… he couldn't wait to kill her the moment she walked him to his door unwillingly.

"Nod your head… and it will all stop," he assured, his smile counterfeit. Another lie.

Her grip tightened, panic setting in, and preparing to fight against him, before she stopped; her fingers slackening lightly.

A word pounded in her head like a mantra stronger than the headache she had from the Dan-jed powder…

Don't.

She flexed her fingers and the toes in her shoes but kept the rest of her body as still as it had been when she first was hit with the drug.

Do not give him what he wants a second time. Keep still…if you nod your head, he'll kill you now… endure it… wait for your opportunity.

Devastatingly… he seemed to read her mind yet again.

His eyes squinted at her, his eyes raking over her form and studying her for a moment with suspicion, before he released his hand from her face. "Do you want to know how I can tell you are able to move?"

His hand went to his pocket again where he kept the powder and she flinched like a startled animal—giving herself away. Her hands came up to protect herself and fight him, but she was still weak, and she failed.

Hulin clamped his hand over her mouth and gave her another dose of the green powder. It smeared unpleasantly across her lips, and she let out a muffled scream underneath him, her body rocking from side to side as he pressed her into the floor with the brunt of his body weight on his hand. Her hands came up and grabbed his wrist on reflex, trying to tear him off of her.

"This powder is my own recipe. It took me 2000 years to make and perfect it," he explained, before he gave a curt sneer. "I know how long it lasts… and I have plenty to last us through the night."

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her bucking slowing down as she felt the drug start to take root again — and even worse than before. Norah barely felt his hand lift, her limbs feeling like heavy trees had fallen on top of them and crushed them to the floor. She could barely remember to tell her body to breathe and laid on the floor of his room gasping like a fish on land. Her body numbed, her skin feeling even more feverish. If he didn't kill her, she was certain the powder would first… maybe it would be better…

His hand grasped at her chin again, tugging her cloudy vision back to his face. Yet, she could barely make out the details; he was blurry; his body looking like ether in front of her. Multicolored dots danced above her… it felt like she was being suffocated…

He said something, something accented with a self-assured smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he bit his teeth on his bottom lip, but she couldn't make it out, and laid there uselessly.

Hulin's lip curled up at her; a thunder cloud of annoyance and rancor suddenly darkening his features. Angry she was ignoring him.

"I said: nod your head, you little bitch."

Her eyes closed, unable to keep them open… and did nothing else. It was her answer.

Shortly after, she felt something sting on her chest, causing her to open her mouth in a soundless cry of pain. She knew what it was — his knife— and she felt it slice her open from the bump of her collarbone and slide down towards her cleavage, rounding around the outside of one of her breasts...

"Your heart is beating so fast... I cannot wait to taste it once I am finally done with you."

I hope you choke on it…

The sound of thunder crashed — as if right next to her ear— and caught her attention. Her eyes barely opened, her world still foggy and her mind feeling as if it had turned to soup and was sloshing around in her skull. Blood poured from her wound as if someone had draped a soaked blanket across her chest, but she ignored it… her eyes back to the door.

Hulin's knife lifted off of her, his hand pulling back as he jumped in alarm at the sound. It came again— clearer— coming from his door and even in her drugged condition, she recognized the sound.

Gunshots.

Hope. Real, tangible hope suddenly engulfed her, and she let out a sigh of genuine relief.

Thank the Gods…

There was only one person who it could be…

Hulin bared his teeth as he worked himself back to his feet cumbersomely with help from his abandoned cane— just in time as Erron's bullet found its mark from the other side of the door and hit the lock. Splinters and scrap-metal cascaded across the room, showering them lightly, before the door swung open; the man's boot connecting with it and flinging the door open wildly.

The angry mercenary, now armed with his pistols, stepped into the room… and stopped in his tracks when his eyes landed on her. She assumed, just from the way his lips slightly parted in shock and he blinked, that she looked worse than she was picturing for herself. It must have been a shock, especially considering moments ago she looked much different than how she did now. And it pissed him off… but there was something else...

Even delirious, her skull feeling as if it was splitting open, she saw something snap behind his eyes. As if, seeing her that way triggered something. Some unknown, but malevolent emotion. Something that she had seen from him every time he looked at her in the past. Just unexplained hatred… but this time to a more severe degree. Whatever it was, seeing her in this state seemed personal to him. Like he was recalling an unpleasant memory it reminded him of.

Nausea swamped on her again and she rolled the back of her afflicted skull around on the floor.

Whatever the reason, he was livid at the Edenian and she was happy about it. The feeling was mutual, and she didn't care if she ever learned the truth.

Just help me… please just kill him...

His body tensed and his grip on the pistol in his hand tightened considerably as his blue eyes turned black… and glared murderously to the Edenian who still held the knife.

Hulin raised it, aggravated to see the gunslinger again, and swiped it at him like an feral animal with its claws out. The Kahn's guard blocked him easily with the outside of his arm, pushing the man's off to the side. It was a mistake to try and attack Erron, and Black taunted him for it with a sneer…

"My turn…"

Hulin's eyes widened in realization— he had attacked the gunslinger first— and before he could react, the ex-Earthrealmer's hand came up over-head, and he brought the butt-end of the gun crashing down on the injured Edenian's nose.

Hulin's nose cracked brutally under the hammer-swing of the markman's pistol… and it was one of the most satisfying sounds Norah had ever heard in her life.

The Edenian let out a howl of pain, and crumpled to the floor, landing on his back as the cane and knife flew from his hands and scattered uselessly across the room.

Erron grabbed the man by the top of his hair, balling it harshly, and lifted him by it until his torso was off the floor. It wasn't even seconds before the man's pistol came down with rapid and ruthless strikes. Each pistol-whip sounding like a hammer hitting wet stone and delivered with enough force to send anyone to their ass if they were standing. However, Erron's grip in his hair prevented him from hitting the floor, allowing the marksman to keep him upright and continue on with his assault.

Pained grunts of pain erupted from the man— as well as blood spraying from his mouth and nose— as Black struck him repeatedly. The man's stamina and power never faltered, showing the Edenian no mercy. There was no sympathy that he was already crippled… only rage towards the man behind the cane.

Erron stopped, lifting the bloodied man up higher by his scalp until his eyes were peering up and looking at the gunslinger. Well… looking as best as he could with swollen, black and purple eyes.

A tooth fell from the man's mouth, clattering to the floor. Hulin's face was almost unrecognizable between his broken jaw, demolished nose, split lip and various bruises. It was hardly the same man seconds ago.

The Edenian clinged on, barely conscious as the bounty hunter held him up— it was the only thing keeping him upright. Blood drooled from the man's mouth as even each exhale from the man sounded like a painful labor; tears falling from the man's face that mixed with his blood as he whimpered in pain.

Black's hand tightened on the man's hair and jerked him up higher, ripping more strands of hair, that caused the man to wince loudly in his unforgivable grip. Erron gritted his teeth at him, his eyes stony and full of guarantee as he growled out his warning:

"I'll make it simple for you: you even look in her direction again, I'll drop you in one fucking shot."

The gunslinger twisted the man's damaged scalp in his hand. "Nod your head, bitch— if you get the picture."

The man's head bobbed, but it was impossible to tell if it was because he was losing consciousness… or he truly was nodding his head.

Nevertheless, the gunslinger holstered his pistol so he could land one last brutal blow with his own fist into Hulin's face, the impact like someone slapping two bricks together in the room. The Edenian collapsed to the floor, groaning and gurgling pitifully in his sleep. Out cold.

The Kahn's guard breathed heavily, calming his nerves, as his chest heaved up and down. He gave his hand a quick shake, working out the pain in his knuckles and briskly came to her. Black kneeled down, looking at her, and under his restless and indignant expression, she lost control.

She let her emotions unharness, not caring he was in front of her to see her grieve out her fear. She cried. Cried at how terrified she had felt, how helpless she had been… but mostly unfathomably overwhelmed by how grateful she felt seeing him.

His fingers came up to her face, his weathered hands swiping up the powder that still was still caked on her lips and brought it up to his eyes to inspect it. The wheels in his head turned, before Black's hand grasped her wrist, lifted her arm, and released it to test her reflexes.

He balled a fist, his demeanor fuming as soon as her arm hit the ground limply. It answered whatever inquiry he had about what the powder was and its purpose.

Black said nothing else, his mouth set into a firm discontented line as he looked over the wounds on her leg and chest. He let out an angry huff out of his nose at the sight of her leg and shot a glare at the still unconscious Edenian at his name carved into her thigh. However, he didn't want to dwindle on it, and before she realized it, he was scooping her up from the ground, and carrying her bridal-style out the door.

Her head rolled onto his chest, her body dead weight in his arms, as he carried her out of the room. As soon as they exited, her fear still refused to leave her as quickly as the powder started to, and she whimpered softly into his chest. If able to, she would have outright bawled and shake like a leaf.

"It's ok…you're ok…" he told her, trying to comfort her though his voice was tight with anger still. She felt him shift her in his arms, re-adjusting his grip on her so it was tighter to ensure that he wouldn't drop her. "I got you…"

Tears spilled over a limp, thankful smile…

---

A/N: More Erron- in-shinning armor- Black next chapter, more Mera and Moloth and more introspective shit I'm sure.

Thanks for stopping by, leave a comment if you wish. I hope you liked the chapter and as always see you next chapter.