::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::
-------------
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control
I fear is never-ending
Controlling, I can't seem...
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I've felt this way before
So insecure...
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Discomfort endlessly has
Pulled itself upon me
Distructing, reacting
Against my will I stand
Beside my own reflection
It's haunting, how I can't seem...
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I've felt this way before
So insecure...
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming...
This lack of self-control
I fear is never-ending
Controlling...
Confusing what is real
"Crawling"
Linkin Park
-------------
The Crow: Sacred Flame
Part Seven
By Mercury Blue
-------------
Dave walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled out the casefile
he'd been looking for. Carrying it to the desk, he placed it on the
hard wood, and opened his briefcase, sliding the file inside. There
were some things he wanted to look over, so he'd decided to take the
file home to study.
It was a thick file, filled with crime scene photos, reports, and
descriptions of what had happened. On the inside of the folder,
several plastic bags were stapled, filled with various pieces of
evidence.
In one bag, there was a something that they had never been able to
place, let alone figure out what it was. They'd found it on the body
of one of the victims- the girl, Raye. A red piece of metal,
long, and tubelike with a gold star at the top. At first glance, it
looked like it would be a pen, put that wasn't the case, it seemed as
there was no writing tip, nor ink to speak of. It could have been an
ornament, or good luck charm of sorts, but studies of the Shinto
religion showed that no such charm existed in history. One officer
had gone so far as to say that the thing looked like a magical wand
of sorts. Dave had laughed then. But still, to this day, the tool's
use had remained a mystery.
The thing fascinated Dave. Never before had he seen anything like it,
and he found it extraordinarily beautiful. After it had been dusted
for prints and he could handle it outside of the bag, he would often
sit and hold it, staring at it as he thought of the case and tried to
imagine what exactly had happened that night.
Dave's mind wandered back to his encounter on the street as he closed
his briefcase. The woman had looked so much like the Raye of the
photos that he found it unnerving. Hell, with her painted-up face,
white in the moonlight, he would almost say that it had been her
ghost he'd seen. But a ghost couldn't lay down two grown men as she
had, could it?
The two men had regained consciousness within minutes of each other
only a half hour earlier. Both had told stories of a psychotic
renegade as they'd awoken. A woman with incomparable strength who'd
attacked them in the street. A few words from Dave describing the
brawl that he'd seen prior to the arrest of the two individuals
resulted in the other cops believing they'd simply ran into a talented
martial artist, and rubbed her the wrong way. Several felt the men
had had it coming.
Dave hadn't told them the rest of the story, though. How she'd been
there when he arrived; how she'd confessed to Pockets' murder. He
wanted to sort everything out, first. Figure it out. If she *was*
Raye, returning from the dead, he felt he owed it to Amy to at least
find out first.
* * *
Snake tripped over a stone, almost falling. "Shit," he swore, barely
recovering. He swayed drunkenly from the impact of his feet against
the cement, and pulled out a small flask of scotch, drinking greedily.
Ever since he'd heard some bitch was after him, he'd been royally
pissed off. No one, and that meant *no one* messed with him and his
pals. She'd gone too far.
"Pockets, you poor mother-fucker," he muttered. He'd felt bad for his
old friend, and partly blamed himself for his death. "Goddamn bitch,
psycho whore... what the fuck does she want?". Darkness enveloped
him. It was late. Part of him felt he needed to get home, hide,
avoid the danger he'd been warned of, but the other part didn't give
a shit. Snake was confident he could take anyone who tried to mess
with him. Especially if it were a woman.
Angrily kicking a rock that lay on the ground before him, Snake began
to have the eeriest feeling of being watched. "Hello?" he said aloud.
No reply.
Shaking his head at the stupidity of it, Snake resumed walking. It
was just his imagination. Damn, he was getting jumpy, he thought,
and for several seconds, he felt safe.
Suddenly, there was the crunch behind him of someone stepping on a
piece of plastic. Garbage. Whoever it was, the sound gave them away
like the step of a hunter on a dry piece of wood. Snake whirled
around to face his stalker.
No one.
"Who's there?" he shouted. There was no answer. Snake breathed out.
Maybe it was his imagination.
"Shit!" The swear escaped his lips as a pair of hands encircled his
throat. Snake thrashed around, trying to face his attacker. Behind
him, Raye grinned, and tightened her grip.
"Good evening, Snake," she whispered in his ear, "I presume you know
who I am."
Snake broke free of Raye's grip, and whirled around to face her.
"You're her!" he yelled, "You're the bitch that killed Pockets!"
Raye took a deep bow, her eyes fixed on him. "I am she," she said
clearly, a deep smile etched in her painted features. "And now it's
your turn."
Snake teetered on his feet, drunken and uncertain how to respond.
Finally, he lunged at her, fists flailing. "Like hell it is," he
yelled, and attempted to hit her, screaming as she kicked his legs,
and sent him to the ground.
"It's late, and I'm tired, Snake," Raye said, kneeling next to his
fallen form. "So why don't you do me a favor, and die quickly?"
Snake merely gazed at her in horror as her hands extended, reaching
for him.
* * *
Amy finally reached the shrine, and ran up the stone steps two at a
time. At this time of night, she felt it safer to get indoors as
quickly as possible, and so she quickly scurried up to the main
building where Raye and her family had once lived.
Pulling open the shrine doors, Amy grimaced as her hand come in
contact with something slimy, and dirty.
"What the..?" Pulling her hand away, she looked at her fingers.
"Mud?" she thought, rubbing her fingers together at the texture,
"Don't tell me Kiro's slacked off in his care of the shrine already."
Wiping her hands on her pants, she stepped inside, and removed her
shoes, careful not to wake up the old caretaker. Glancing around the
room, she noticed several random pools of water soaking the floor.
"How odd." She thought, "There must be a leak or two in the roof."
Amy pulled her hood from her head, and looked at the ceiling, trying
to ascertain if and where the water could have gotten in. Seeing
nothing, she shrugged to herself, and made a mental note to tell Kiro
about the puddles the next day. For the moment, there was something
she needed to do.
* * *
"Why are you doing this?" Snake demanded from his place on the floor.
"What do you want?"
"I want you dead," said Raye simply.
The two were in an abandoned warehouse just south of the city. Raye
had noticed the place earlier, and saw it as the perfect place for
Snake to die. And he *was* going to die. She would see to that.
Squatting behind him, Raye secured the final strip of duct tape in
place, and stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
"It'll have to do," she sighed.
Snake sat on the cold cement eyes fixed in fear on the figure that
towered before him. "Who the fuck are you?" he swore. "What did I
ever do to you? You can't kill me without at least telling me that!"
Blackened eyes focused on him in the strangest combination of disgust
and pity, and she spat at him, hatred burning in her now-cold heart.
"I'm hurt you don't remember me, Snake," she said finally, mock hurt
distorting her voice. "Because, I remember you." Slowly, she
walked around him, securing his bonds. "It wasn't that long ago we
met for the first time- though, I can hardly say we had a proper
introduction. You and your friends had decided to have a little fun
at my family's expense."
Reaching behind her, Raye picked up a can of gasoline, and uncapped
it, letting the fumes taint and impregnate the air. "I've decided
now, it's time we *really* got to know each other."
"What the fuck are you going to do?" Snake demanded. His eyes went
to the gas can, than back to her. "What are you going to do to me?"
"What should have been done a long time ago," she sighed. Slowly,
methodically, she poured the gas onto the floor, breathing in the
sour fumes with a morbid satisfaction. A slow smile spread over her
face, and she splashed some on him, before making a circle around him
with the liquid. "I hope you enjoy my welcome present."
Smiling at him, Raye leaned down over him, and pulled a book of
matches triumphantly out of his front jacket pocket. "Just what I
was looking for."
"No! NO!!!! Oh, God, no!" Snake caught on, his eyes widening in
panic. All of his toughness abruptly flew out the window.
"You pray to your God now, but where was he when Pockets needed his
help? Or Moose for that matter?"
"Please don't kill me!" Snake begged. Raye looked at him without
sympathy, and pulled out her roll of duct tape. "I'm sorry, Snake,"
she said finally. "I just don't want to hear you speak anymore."
And with one rough gesture, his mouth was taped shut, leaving him to
plead with her with tearful eyes.
"It's over, Snake," she whispered, and for one, brief second, she
pitied him. She saw him not for who he was, but who he could have
been given the right circumstance. This foul creature before her
could have, at one point, been a decent human being.
Fate certainly is a bitch.
Opening the book of matches in her hand, she tore one off, and looked
at him again. Tears ran down his grubby cheeks. She scratched the
head of the small match, and flame erupted.
"Goodbye, Snake," she said. "May you burn forever."
And she tossed the match towards him.
As the tiny piece of sulfurous wood sailed towards him, Snake saw it.
He finally saw it. Realization spread over his terror-stricken face,
and from the very core of his being he knew what he'd been wanting to
know.
There she stood, before him. Hair long, and black in the night, eyes
burning like small embers, she stood.
Her.
-------------
(Singing off key:) Another one bites the dust.
A shorter chapter, I know, but hey, I had a bit of writer's block.
Stay tuned for more in chapter eight.
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com
Ja,
Mercury Blue
-------------
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control
I fear is never-ending
Controlling, I can't seem...
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I've felt this way before
So insecure...
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Discomfort endlessly has
Pulled itself upon me
Distructing, reacting
Against my will I stand
Beside my own reflection
It's haunting, how I can't seem...
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I've felt this way before
So insecure...
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming...
This lack of self-control
I fear is never-ending
Controlling...
Confusing what is real
"Crawling"
Linkin Park
-------------
The Crow: Sacred Flame
Part Seven
By Mercury Blue
-------------
Dave walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled out the casefile
he'd been looking for. Carrying it to the desk, he placed it on the
hard wood, and opened his briefcase, sliding the file inside. There
were some things he wanted to look over, so he'd decided to take the
file home to study.
It was a thick file, filled with crime scene photos, reports, and
descriptions of what had happened. On the inside of the folder,
several plastic bags were stapled, filled with various pieces of
evidence.
In one bag, there was a something that they had never been able to
place, let alone figure out what it was. They'd found it on the body
of one of the victims- the girl, Raye. A red piece of metal,
long, and tubelike with a gold star at the top. At first glance, it
looked like it would be a pen, put that wasn't the case, it seemed as
there was no writing tip, nor ink to speak of. It could have been an
ornament, or good luck charm of sorts, but studies of the Shinto
religion showed that no such charm existed in history. One officer
had gone so far as to say that the thing looked like a magical wand
of sorts. Dave had laughed then. But still, to this day, the tool's
use had remained a mystery.
The thing fascinated Dave. Never before had he seen anything like it,
and he found it extraordinarily beautiful. After it had been dusted
for prints and he could handle it outside of the bag, he would often
sit and hold it, staring at it as he thought of the case and tried to
imagine what exactly had happened that night.
Dave's mind wandered back to his encounter on the street as he closed
his briefcase. The woman had looked so much like the Raye of the
photos that he found it unnerving. Hell, with her painted-up face,
white in the moonlight, he would almost say that it had been her
ghost he'd seen. But a ghost couldn't lay down two grown men as she
had, could it?
The two men had regained consciousness within minutes of each other
only a half hour earlier. Both had told stories of a psychotic
renegade as they'd awoken. A woman with incomparable strength who'd
attacked them in the street. A few words from Dave describing the
brawl that he'd seen prior to the arrest of the two individuals
resulted in the other cops believing they'd simply ran into a talented
martial artist, and rubbed her the wrong way. Several felt the men
had had it coming.
Dave hadn't told them the rest of the story, though. How she'd been
there when he arrived; how she'd confessed to Pockets' murder. He
wanted to sort everything out, first. Figure it out. If she *was*
Raye, returning from the dead, he felt he owed it to Amy to at least
find out first.
* * *
Snake tripped over a stone, almost falling. "Shit," he swore, barely
recovering. He swayed drunkenly from the impact of his feet against
the cement, and pulled out a small flask of scotch, drinking greedily.
Ever since he'd heard some bitch was after him, he'd been royally
pissed off. No one, and that meant *no one* messed with him and his
pals. She'd gone too far.
"Pockets, you poor mother-fucker," he muttered. He'd felt bad for his
old friend, and partly blamed himself for his death. "Goddamn bitch,
psycho whore... what the fuck does she want?". Darkness enveloped
him. It was late. Part of him felt he needed to get home, hide,
avoid the danger he'd been warned of, but the other part didn't give
a shit. Snake was confident he could take anyone who tried to mess
with him. Especially if it were a woman.
Angrily kicking a rock that lay on the ground before him, Snake began
to have the eeriest feeling of being watched. "Hello?" he said aloud.
No reply.
Shaking his head at the stupidity of it, Snake resumed walking. It
was just his imagination. Damn, he was getting jumpy, he thought,
and for several seconds, he felt safe.
Suddenly, there was the crunch behind him of someone stepping on a
piece of plastic. Garbage. Whoever it was, the sound gave them away
like the step of a hunter on a dry piece of wood. Snake whirled
around to face his stalker.
No one.
"Who's there?" he shouted. There was no answer. Snake breathed out.
Maybe it was his imagination.
"Shit!" The swear escaped his lips as a pair of hands encircled his
throat. Snake thrashed around, trying to face his attacker. Behind
him, Raye grinned, and tightened her grip.
"Good evening, Snake," she whispered in his ear, "I presume you know
who I am."
Snake broke free of Raye's grip, and whirled around to face her.
"You're her!" he yelled, "You're the bitch that killed Pockets!"
Raye took a deep bow, her eyes fixed on him. "I am she," she said
clearly, a deep smile etched in her painted features. "And now it's
your turn."
Snake teetered on his feet, drunken and uncertain how to respond.
Finally, he lunged at her, fists flailing. "Like hell it is," he
yelled, and attempted to hit her, screaming as she kicked his legs,
and sent him to the ground.
"It's late, and I'm tired, Snake," Raye said, kneeling next to his
fallen form. "So why don't you do me a favor, and die quickly?"
Snake merely gazed at her in horror as her hands extended, reaching
for him.
* * *
Amy finally reached the shrine, and ran up the stone steps two at a
time. At this time of night, she felt it safer to get indoors as
quickly as possible, and so she quickly scurried up to the main
building where Raye and her family had once lived.
Pulling open the shrine doors, Amy grimaced as her hand come in
contact with something slimy, and dirty.
"What the..?" Pulling her hand away, she looked at her fingers.
"Mud?" she thought, rubbing her fingers together at the texture,
"Don't tell me Kiro's slacked off in his care of the shrine already."
Wiping her hands on her pants, she stepped inside, and removed her
shoes, careful not to wake up the old caretaker. Glancing around the
room, she noticed several random pools of water soaking the floor.
"How odd." She thought, "There must be a leak or two in the roof."
Amy pulled her hood from her head, and looked at the ceiling, trying
to ascertain if and where the water could have gotten in. Seeing
nothing, she shrugged to herself, and made a mental note to tell Kiro
about the puddles the next day. For the moment, there was something
she needed to do.
* * *
"Why are you doing this?" Snake demanded from his place on the floor.
"What do you want?"
"I want you dead," said Raye simply.
The two were in an abandoned warehouse just south of the city. Raye
had noticed the place earlier, and saw it as the perfect place for
Snake to die. And he *was* going to die. She would see to that.
Squatting behind him, Raye secured the final strip of duct tape in
place, and stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
"It'll have to do," she sighed.
Snake sat on the cold cement eyes fixed in fear on the figure that
towered before him. "Who the fuck are you?" he swore. "What did I
ever do to you? You can't kill me without at least telling me that!"
Blackened eyes focused on him in the strangest combination of disgust
and pity, and she spat at him, hatred burning in her now-cold heart.
"I'm hurt you don't remember me, Snake," she said finally, mock hurt
distorting her voice. "Because, I remember you." Slowly, she
walked around him, securing his bonds. "It wasn't that long ago we
met for the first time- though, I can hardly say we had a proper
introduction. You and your friends had decided to have a little fun
at my family's expense."
Reaching behind her, Raye picked up a can of gasoline, and uncapped
it, letting the fumes taint and impregnate the air. "I've decided
now, it's time we *really* got to know each other."
"What the fuck are you going to do?" Snake demanded. His eyes went
to the gas can, than back to her. "What are you going to do to me?"
"What should have been done a long time ago," she sighed. Slowly,
methodically, she poured the gas onto the floor, breathing in the
sour fumes with a morbid satisfaction. A slow smile spread over her
face, and she splashed some on him, before making a circle around him
with the liquid. "I hope you enjoy my welcome present."
Smiling at him, Raye leaned down over him, and pulled a book of
matches triumphantly out of his front jacket pocket. "Just what I
was looking for."
"No! NO!!!! Oh, God, no!" Snake caught on, his eyes widening in
panic. All of his toughness abruptly flew out the window.
"You pray to your God now, but where was he when Pockets needed his
help? Or Moose for that matter?"
"Please don't kill me!" Snake begged. Raye looked at him without
sympathy, and pulled out her roll of duct tape. "I'm sorry, Snake,"
she said finally. "I just don't want to hear you speak anymore."
And with one rough gesture, his mouth was taped shut, leaving him to
plead with her with tearful eyes.
"It's over, Snake," she whispered, and for one, brief second, she
pitied him. She saw him not for who he was, but who he could have
been given the right circumstance. This foul creature before her
could have, at one point, been a decent human being.
Fate certainly is a bitch.
Opening the book of matches in her hand, she tore one off, and looked
at him again. Tears ran down his grubby cheeks. She scratched the
head of the small match, and flame erupted.
"Goodbye, Snake," she said. "May you burn forever."
And she tossed the match towards him.
As the tiny piece of sulfurous wood sailed towards him, Snake saw it.
He finally saw it. Realization spread over his terror-stricken face,
and from the very core of his being he knew what he'd been wanting to
know.
There she stood, before him. Hair long, and black in the night, eyes
burning like small embers, she stood.
Her.
-------------
(Singing off key:) Another one bites the dust.
A shorter chapter, I know, but hey, I had a bit of writer's block.
Stay tuned for more in chapter eight.
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com
Ja,
Mercury Blue