Notes: Lyrics from Michael Jackson "Smooth Criminal"
Feedback: Good or bad, 's all groovy :)
It's all about the game and how you play it
It's all about control and if you can take it
It's all about your debt and if you can pay it
It's all about the pain and who's gonna make it
Her voice filled the corridor, soft and nearly child like, dripping with a suffocating sweetness that crept into the mind and held it like a fly in flawed amber.
"You can stop laughing baby ..."
Isaac's laughter died abruptly. He recognised the faces of some of the ones behind his girl now, the pack he'd thought they'd left behind. Really left behind, what with the fire he'd lit and everything. And she was smiling that smile, only it wasn't at him. He couldn't remember the name of the guy at her shoulder. Mick? Mark? Mulch?
"You got us caught. Getting your girlfriend dissected can really hurt a relationship sweetheart. I had to get away all on my own. But then I found Marty ... and he said we should waste this place and go home. But, see, the only way I get to come back to the Pack is if you're not there. You understand, right baby? It's separation time."
He could imagine just what kind of separation she had in mind, he'd be lucky if it was just his head from his shoulders. And the stupid humans were just standing there staring instead of doing something constructive, like forming a first line of defense so he could escape. Except he wouldn't get five feet in this state.
Woodman nearly lost his footing as the arm of Anderson he was supporting was tugged away. It snapped the spell of her voice, an almost physical sensation of release from the confining fog. He snarled, getting a firmer grip and yelling as he followed after the vampire attempting to run and carry most of Anderson.
"Merchant!"
Merchant backed up a pace, watching as the monsters began to slink forward. Then she pulled the trigger of the shotgun and watched as the shadowed figures at the end of the corridor dissolved into a black mist. Someone was shouting, but it sounded far away. Idly she pulled the trigger again, floor level this time, and then fingers were on her oddly numb shoulder, dragging her into a faltering run.
The first door they came to opened under Isaac's shove and he fell into the darkness of the room, nearly tripping over Anderson as he dropped him and was then barrelled into by one of the agents. At least, he hoped it was one of the agents, the alternative would be not necessarily short, but definitely painful. He turned to see a slender shadow toting a big fucking gun slam the door shut, then closed his eyes as harsh light flooded the room.
They stood blinking at each other for a moment, then Anderson groaned. Merchant snapped out of it first, placing the shotgun by the door well a calm deliberation of movement that suggested she would be snapping like a dried sparrow bone any moment. But she crossed silently to the whimpering figure and tried to sound confident as Woodman just stood and glared at the surprisingly silent vampire.
"It's okay Anderson, a little detour. You're gonna be fine" She searched for a moment for something to tell him, anything, just keep talking and everything will be fine. He focussed on her blearily for a moment through the blood and sweat drenched strands of hair covering his eyes. "Hey, you have a book to finish. So hang on in there, it looked good, you've got to tell me what happens and ..." her words peetered out as his eyes glazed and eyelids dropped, falling unconscious once more.
Woodman finally found the words he had been searching for, addressing the thing standing before him with a flat, even tone.
"Well, it seems safe to assume the idea of swapping you for our lives has met it's end. Can you tell me why you're still here?"
Isaac failed to meet his eyes, looking around the small office instead. There was nothing much there, filing cabinets, a couple of monitors and very little in the way of inspiration for saving his life.
"Because .. because I know my girl. She likes to play, remember? That's why she hasn't knocked that door down yet. It's the chase that's all the fun, cat and mouse." Inspiration finally struck and he grinned with the knowledge. "I can show you how to keep the game interesting enough to give us a chance to get out of this corner of hell"
Merchant smirked and leant back against the office table, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the way her hands stuck to the material of the suit jacket.
"You don't think that maybe getting shot by very big bullets might have had something to do with it?"
Isaac tilted his head and looked at the woman with the quizzical expression of one who's just seen a house pet talk. For her benefit, he talked slowly and used small words.
"Nooo ... I think getting shot by very big bullets has just pissed her off"
When neither agent appeared to understand he looked between them. "You just don't get it, do you meatbags? You. Put. Her. In. A. Cage"
Sod the lack of blood, he extended his canines and bought his lips back in a feral snarl, eyes glowing a dull red, voice gutteral and belonging in the shadows of nightmare when he spoke again "Do we looks like things you can put in a fucking cage? Run experiments on? Starve? And expect not to kill you?"
He wanted to tell them it was their fault she hated him now, tear into them to make them understand how they'd suddenly made his existance more painful in one moment than it had been in the last month. But that would be giving them too much. And besides, he really didn't love his chances against the shotgun Woodman was standing so casually near.
Stiil, something must have gotten through. Neither moved, but there was the fear. It did his heart good to see it as he allowed the veneer of humanity to drop over him again, shrugging it on like a comfortable jacket. He smiled pleasantly at both, then looked appraisingly at the one on the floor. He could hear it's pulse faltering, ebbing and struggling, the rush of the blood as it tried to hard so feed it's host. The guy had an hour, maybe two.
"Look, you need someone who can go hand to hand with the ones outside if we run into them close up and personal ... and he's ..."
"Don't even think about it" Woodman eyed the room, then back to the creature. "We don't need you that much. She likes to play? What's her game?"
"Fox and Hounds" When Woodman just stared at him, he elaborated grudgingly, consolling himself with the thought of the two heads that were now going to adorn his mantle piece. Woodman and Merchant would make lovely ornaments. It was near christmas, intestines looked quite striking on a tree. Anyone's tree. He could be generous and decorate some family's ... "If we try and head straight for the exit, she'll just kill us. But if we give her the run around, she'll follow and herd until we're boxed in and scared shitless. But you know this building better, I'm guessing. Maybe she can follow us to someplace nasty?"
Woodman looked over at Merchant, she was smiling slightly as she made eye contact, speaking after a moment's reflection. There was only one place they could both be thinking of.
"It's two floors down ..."
"Which means they've already come that way. We might be able to stop them going all the way to the top"
"Will they fall for it though?"
Isaac liked to think he had patience. Well, maybe not patience. Actually, no patience at all, and the over his head conversation was wearing thin.
"Where the hell are we going?"
The both looked at him with identical humourless smiles, speaking in unison.
"You'll see"
Great, he'd fallen in with Mr and Ms Of-The-Fucking-Borg