Artz: Hello everyone! Yes, I am not dead, but things have been extraordinarily insane in my life. Between my mum, grandma, and me all getting Covid back to back...ironically I didn't know that I had Covid at the time and ended up working through it; running errands, doing an obscene amount of house work, taking care of my grandma, and actually returning to work after the quarantine period was over...even my co-workers knew something was wrong but it only took two days at work to practically shove Covid out of my body.
I was a rest area custodian and my workplace had no air conditioning, no heat, no proper ventilation, and was essentially a petri dish/ workman's comp nightmare, but by the third day, I was back at work, I was practically good as new because there was some serious amount of body movement. So tip to those trying to fight this shit off, do not remain sedimentary meaning don't just curl into a bed or sit in a chair and do nothing. My mum tried to do that and she nearly died but I dragged her ass out of the house on my back, got her in the car, took her to the VA and told them to keep her until it was over. The asshats actually sent her home the first time!
But I digress, few months later I fell at work and about a week after that, I was laid off along with ten other people. Eleven out of seventeen people given the boot and I've been hunting for a new job but I had to schedule physical therapy because of the fall I had at work which is preventing me from getting any of the more readily available jobs that require standing for any long amount of time.
Now my truest believer, Anna, and her family have caught Covid and they were just hit by a hurricane on top of that. I haven't heard from her yet but considering she was relying solely on Wi-Fi to stay in contact, I'm not expecting an answer any time soon because thousands of families lost power out there, but my instincts are telling me that she's just fine and they haven't been wrong thus far.
Hook: Oi, wench, you ever going to get to the chapter?
Artz: *sighs* Everyone, say hello to the Fourth Captain of the Blood Guard. You want to know more about him and his fellow Guard members then read Stardust and pop over to my blog.
xatolieforge dot blogspot dot com
As for the chapter, Anna has terrible spelling and grammar so translating Annanese makes one's eyes bleed and cause a massive migraine. So without further ado, I present the next chapter of Beyond The Night.
Chapter Two: Time and Memory
Elizabeth Amethyst Williams, the woman that woke up one day having no idea who she was and seemingly existed nowhere, was currently cursing the public transit system. Why because the bus she had taken to get to work had, in fact, been going in the opposite direction of her workplace. Having realized this, she had gotten off as soon as possible and started running towards the underground railway, but was intercepted by a black clad man astride a black motorcycle.
"Get on." He ordered, holding out a motorcycle helmet for her to wear.
"Why in heavens name would I…" She began but he cut her off.
"Petrichor." He stated bluntly.
"The smell of dust after the rain." She responded in confusion.
Did he possess some kind of relation to The Captain from UNIT? If so, why was he here? What did he want from her? So many questions and absolutely zero answers.
"Get on the bloody bike already...unless you want to lose your job." He snapped, holding up the helmet once more.
She didn't have many options at her disposal and despite not knowing who he was, her intuition was telling her to trust him, so trust him she did by grabbing the helmet. She shoved her head inside it, fastened the strap as quickly as possible and climbed aboard the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his midsection. She bit her cheek to stop the gasp from escaping her lips as she became hyper aware of the man's strong body. Damn, he was hiding one hell of a physique under those clothes.
She did let out a squeak of surprise as he revved the back, the back tiring squealing at it spun, and bam, they were racing down the congested roads. His ability to control his motorcycle at such high speeds and with so many obstacles was simply mind boggling. It made her wonder if he was a professional racer or something because seriously, the fluidity of motion while at high speeds should have induced a terrible case of motion sickness from her, but her body was perfectly relaxed and she knew that couldn't possibly be right.
Imagine her surprise when the bike came to sudden halt in front of her place of work and she quickly dismounted, removing the helmet and returning it to its owner, and she thanked him profusely. She then turned and ran towards the front entrance. Had she remained a moment longer, she would have seen him lift the visor of his helmet to reveal eyes of mirrored obsidian. The mysterious yet oddly helpful motorcyclist closed the visor and left the area, driving past a rather odd looking sight...a blue police box.
The aspiring artist was in such a hurry that she nearly bowled over a young woman with crimson red hair that was wearing sunglasses and a rather long red crocheted scarf. Elizabeth spouted off apology after apology, but the redhead simply waved her off and playfully chided her about how she was going to be late if she kept apologizing to her. The dark haired woman nearly squawked after checking her watch and raced through the front doors, making a mad dash to the time clock.
The crimson haired woman smirked behind her scarf while lowering her sunglasses to reveal ancient, sapphire blue eyes filled with knowledge, kindness, and humor. Little did Elizabeth know just how important the people she had met on her way to work that day were to the grand scheme of things nor did she know just how important she truly was but very soon, she was going to find out. The enigmatic ginger pushed her glasses back into place and walked away, stroking the wood of the nearby police box in fond manner before disappearing from sight.
The amethyst eyed woman was especially pleased with herself. Not only did she make it to work on time, but she had even arrived early which meant that she could clock in and get some much needed overtime. Her day became even brighter when her blonde haired associate, one Miss Rose Tyler, informed her that the boy child that had been sexually assaulting her for so long was being transferred permanently to the home office due to a promotion. Said promotion was to be one executive's lap dogs and by lap dog, she meant that he was their man whore.
There had been a secret investigation being conducted because of all the sexual harassment reports, some of them having resulted in actual intercourse, but due to his connections, they couldn't outright fire him so one of the members of the executive board decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. His official title was being a corporate liaison, but this simply meant that he was being used like a piece a meat and as a bargaining chip. Smug little fucktard had no idea what his job was actually going to entail and the only reason why Rose had found out about was because the executive had told her so herself and to inform Elizabeth as well but no one else.
For the rest of the day, the aspiring artist/inventory manager practically danced around her workplace much to her friend's amusement. She spent nine and a half hours unpacking and cataloguing to the new shipment of apparel, shoes, accessories, and other miscellaneous items. It was a grueling task but highly fulfilling as she sent each department their portion of the shipment and oversaw the construction and outfit of the new displays. By the time she was done, she was utterly exhausted but felt like she had accomplished a great deal of work and she had barely noticed that the time had just flown by.
The employees were already clocking out, a certain blonde among them. Rose was going to wait for her but she nudged the teenager towards the door, saying that if she didn't leave now that she would get saddled with delivering the lottery money again. That simple reminder sent the younger Tyler scurrying towards the door because she hated going downstairs into the maintenance and storage facilities. Elizabeth didn't blame her one bit because the extra shop window mannequins were down there and their storage room had some pretty spooky lighting.
She snatched up the lottery money from the guard before he could pawn it off on one of the other employees, giving him a disapproving look. Said guard whom reminded quite a bit of an actor named Jensen Ackles, simply smirked at her with an entirely unrepentant manner. She shook her head at him in fond exasperation before retrieving her clipboard to do one final check of this month's inventory. She frowned slightly when she noticed that she didn't have a sign off signature from the store's chief electrician, Martin Wilson, more commonly referred to as Marty or Wilson depending on who was speaking to him or about him.
She walked up to the store terminal, inputted her login information, username: Lizzy827347, Password: Petrichor2789. She then pulled up the manifest for the shipment and all the emails that she had sent out. As per protocol, each department head always sent a confirmation email to acknowledge that they were aware of the arrival of new inventory but according to the system, Marty hadn't responded. She didn't expect him to either, the old fashioned coot but his assistant, Henry Foss, took care of the digital age junk. She logged out of the system, a sigh escaping her lips. Good thing she made copies of all the individual inventory manifests in advance.
She snatched up her messenger bag and placed the clipboard, inventory manifests and lottery money inside and made her way to the closest lift. She tried dialing him on her mobile while waiting for the lift to arrive but it just went to voicemail. She had a stinking suspicion that he forgot to put it on to charge again. How his wife and kids hadn't strangled him to death was beyond her. Still she adored the man, a total goof that one and unlike the sleazy little fucktard that was Derek Samuels, he was rather charming and had he not been almost thirty years older than her and a happily married man, he could have easily romanced her into his bed. He had regaled her with story after story of how dashing he looked in his military uniform and countless women swooning at the sight of him.
The lift dinged, the doors opening, and she entered without delay. She pressed the button for the basement and pocketed her phone. A feeling was beginning to gnaw at her insides. It's one thing not to hear from Marty, it's another not to hear anything from the tech savvy and all around genius that was Henry Foss. That guy had all the makings of being an exceptional inventor, quite possibly pioneering a new age of technology. She still had no clue he had settled being an assistant to a department store's chief electrician. It seemed like such a waste of his many and various talents. Sadly she was too shy to actually ask why and he never volunteered to share.
The aspiring artist was broken out of her thoughts when the lift doors opened. She walked briskly to Marty's main office or his usual stomping ground as Henry liked to call it, rapping her knuckles on the door.
"Marty? It's Elizabeth. I have the lottery money and I need you to signature for this month's inventory delivery." She called, knocking again, "Marty!"
Well this was strange. She checked her watch, noting the time. The chief electrician was always here during this hour. A flickering light down the hallway made her anxiety shoot through the roof. She made a mental note to stop watching horror movies altogether because she was pretty certain that the audience would be screaming at the telly for her to run away. The silence around her was deafening and she could feel her anxiety growing, her hands gripping the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turning to white.
Her instincts were practically shouting at her. There was danger here...she could feel it, sense it even, and like the kind hearted fool she was, she went in search of her missing friends. It felt like the corridor was getting darker and the constant flickering lights didn't help alleviate her ever mounting fear. She knew that her emotions were beginning to override her logical and rational mind, so she started mentally going over all the self defense lessons she had received from a certain cheeky guitarist that she had met down at the pub a while back.
He had introduced himself as Jack Kincaid though she had heard others call him Light. He had told her that it had to do with his rather unique eye color but she had initially been confused because his eyes were hazel green. Then he removed his contact lenses to reveal electric blue eyes. The irises were like a mirror caught in the exact moment of shattering. It was a breathtaking sight and he explained that his nickname was the Lightning Fang, Light for short. Turned out that his wife was a big fan of the Naruto anime and manga series and even bigger fan of the Copy Ninja of the Leaf that wielded blue electricity in the forms of the Chidori, the chorus of a thousand chirping birds, and the Lightning Blade, literally holding blue electricity in the palm of his hand. Thus the reason Jack was dubbed the Lightning Fang because the color of his eyes matched the color of Kakashi's lightning attacks.
There was a clatter not far away from her, making her jump slightly. Her pulse quickened as her breathing accelerated, her palms beginning to sweat. The gnawing feeling in her gut had multiplied considerably and every fiber of her being was telling her to run like a bat out of hell, but her friends were still down here and she simply couldn't abandon them. She opened the door to one of the storage rooms and ventured inside, careful not to get too close to the shop window dummies.
"Marty, Henry? Are you in here?" She called, wincing internally at her voice quivered with a trace amount of fear.
She needed to pull herself together, otherwise she was going to go into cardiac arrest. Something was wrong, very wrong. She was definitely in danger and her suspicion was verified when the double doors she walked through to enter the storage suddenly slammed shut. Instead of going back towards them, she continued to move to the opposite side of the room where another set of doors were located. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end and the faint sound of squeaking reached her ears.
Movement in the corner of her immediately had her turning in that direction, absolutely certain that she was about to have a direct face off with an axe wielding psychopathic serial killer, only to be confused when she realized that it was a mannequin that was moving towards. How could a plastic dummy move on its own? Had Henry gotten bored and started fooling around with these things as his new project?
"If this is a prank, Henry, then it's not remotely funny." She snapped lightly, her tone revealing just how scared she actually was.
Why? Why was she so terrified of a shop window dummy? It was irrational and unfounded but her instincts were telling her otherwise and that her life was truly in peril. More mannequins began to move as she started to back up, her heart pounding hard and fast in her rib cage. They began to pool in around her, making her trip over some boxes, but she managed to right herself and continue to move away.
Elizabeth's heart was pounding so hard that it was actually pulsing in her own ears. Her breathing was so fast that she was becoming light headed from the lack of proper oxygen intake. Her mouth had become dryer than the Sahara Desert at the height of summer and she honestly felt like she was going to pass out. She inched further away and to the left, pressing her back against the wall. There was nowhere left to go, trapped against a wall and surrounded by creepy, possibly homicidal plastic people. The one closest to her raised its arm, its hand aiming to karate chop her. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the pain to come.
Artz: *snickers* Yes, I am leaving it right there. Besides, any Whovian already knows what is about to happen anyways.
Light: *electric guitar in his hands and reclining on a nearby couch* I think you just like to be cruel and why the hell did you drag me and Wolftech into this? This is a Doctor Who story, isn't it?
Poseidon: Don't bother questioning it, mate. At this point, the Blood Guard especially the Prismata have pretty much invaded every story at this point.
Durga: Yeah well at least it's believable in this one. Our involvement in His Guiding Star doesn't make much sense.
Hiei: You mean Preacher's involvement doesn't make sense. My appearance was actually a proper usage of my character; brief, barely discernible, but having actual relevance due to the power of my Jagan eye.
Preacher: Whoa now. There are not that many people that can convince Killian Jones and James Hook to actually leave their unconscious at the time lover with someone that to them was a complete stranger.
Hiei: *snorts* You didn't convince them at all. You just used the full extent of your empathic abilities to make them leave.
Preacher: Actually that was DT. You know how impatient Death Toll can be.
Artz: Enough! Honestly, I am surrounded by adolescence. Now get out of the damn chapter so I can post the bloody thing. Preferably before my captain gets cranky.
Hook: A bit late for that, wench. *a wall of water appears behind him as he smirks* Say hello to my little friend. *giant tentacles shoot out od the water forcing everyone with the exception of Artz, Poseidon, and for some reason, Light, to scatter and flee*
Light: *pets one of the tentacles* Koschei the Kraken strikes again. *gets off the couch and slings his guitar onto his back* Well I guess I will take my leave then. *uses the Arc Jump to blast away into the sky and out of sight*
Poseidon: Seriously, Jimmy? Technically, Koschei is my friend.
Hook: Our friend.
Artz: *whispers to the wall of water*
Both Hook and Poseidon are suddenly each wrapped in a tentacle then promptly dragged into the wave of water.
Artz: Thanks, Koschei. *water disappears* Sorry about that everyone. When the Guard invades, it usually takes some drastic measures to relocate them so I can finish an article or in this case, a chapter. Please leave a review and do be descriptive. All writers need proper feedback from their readers in order to improve their writing abilities and ultimate refinement.
Hiei: Review or die by my blade.
Artz: Wow, talk about a blast from the past. Haven't heard you use that line since my Inuyasha story, Destiny of a Dream. Anyways, until next time, dearies! *disappears in a swirling cloud of magic*