The Creature Chronicles II
"Of Maw and Mishap"
By: Princess Sassafras
Notes: This is SO based on Catwoman, the movie (with Halle Berry)! If you aren't laughing too hard it might actually be good. Trowa-centric.
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The wind rushed by his ears in whistling knives as he ran. He threw one long leg after the other over the jagged pieces of broken wall littering the area he had just demolished. An alarm sounded behind him. His breathing was harsh and jagged; he was by far the best long distance runner alive for his age and, broadly, his profession, but he had reached his sixth mile running with no stop. Each dark military building sounded an alarm to the next in a domino line, and it seemed they were just behind him and closing in. The next alerted building might be in front of him, and then…
He had already broken runners high and was slowly descending into the dregs of his energy resources. One more wall. One more wall. Wufei is waiting with the jeep at the edge of town. One more…
He could just see his fellow pilot's face when he told him he'd flipped the motorcycle into a nearby shop. Cat in the middle of the road—black as pitch—and he hadn't seen until it was too late. The shop had, coincidentally, exploded.
Thus: the pandemonium.
He passed the line of military buildings more quickly than he expected, putting him in the center of the town where real brick houses were standing in uniform rows, but the wail of the sirens could still be clearly heard on the night air. Trowa veered left through an alleyway, then right past a black metal fence that ran for at least a mile in one direction. The Zoo.
Police sirens were added to the sound of the alarm. He could hear them getting closer. He leapt the black fence without a moment's hesitation.
He passed the ticket booth and the pizza stand. He hopped over the now low and wooden separating fences with ease, but did not slow his pace. The cages and man-made lagoons were dark, devoid of activity. No doubt the animals had been put away in their own private quarters for the night, revamping themselves after a day of being poked at by snotty children.
He sprinted across the dark bridge leading into the area, which presumably held birds and turtles and water mammals. When he emerged on the other side, he saw something spectacular. The reptile cave! And it was right at the other side of the black fence. I'll hear them when they pass, he thought smugly. This is where they will end up when they don't find me, before they start their search in here, if they do. And if they do I'll be long gone in the other direction, back the way I came.
He turned in that direction, slowing down enough to climb the steps that led to the entrance of the cement cave. He did not, however, slow down enough to pick up a fallen easel by the opening. On it was a white sign, the words of which may have been important.
He let the darkness surround him, coaxing his pulse to drop and his spinning head to still. The dark wall was to his left—he felt the fake lumpy smoothness of it against his hand—and the long row of little windows were to his right. Each Plexiglas tank was illuminated from within by a faint green light. The snakes were gone, too, and the tanks were drained. He noticed that above each tank was an empty space. He knew each top was covered in Plexiglas also, but the space between the tops of the tanks and the ceiling was just enough for a man to squeeze into, should he need to. Trowa figured he might need to.
He heard the sirens nearing. That was good. He crouched to listen. He heard them passing. That was really good. He stood quickly and turned to go back the way he came…but then the sirens stopped. They stopped right outside the closest entrance to the black gate. A flashlight beam ricocheted of the inner wall of the cave, making him jump. They were too close for him to run. They'd have him.
He grabbed the edge of the nearest and biggest tank and levered himself up and into the thin space just beneath the lumpy ceiling. He slowed his breathing to nothing. His heart rate to zip. And he waited.
There in the darkness he heard something moving. At first he had thought it was the wind against the cave mouth, but he would have heard that long ago. It was a strange rustling noise…near his feet. He stayed impossibly still, and listened hard in the green-tinted semi-darkness for another sound.
No sound came. Only a sensation. A cool rolling sensation on the back of his left ankle. The feeling of the belly of a snake. He panicked, and, without meaning to, let his ankle twitch ever so slightly.
The snake shrank back from him and emitted that low definitive hiss. Trowa tried not to move, but it made no difference. The thing was angry, and it laid a deep striking blow to his calf. Trowa held back his yelp of surprise and pain. He could hear men's voices outside the cave mouth. They were passing through. Their clumsy footfalls echoed against the ceiling, but all Trowa could hear was his own heart in his ears.
They passed.
They passed him by, the dumb shits, and they left out of the other side.
He had to get out of there, now; his leg did not feel at all normal. The snake was indeed a viper.
Poison is not a good thing, especially when you need the stamina to run. He weighed his options. Elevating his heart rate would spread the poison quicker, andthat could mean possible death. Moving too slowly could mean his capture.
He almost preferred death to capture.
The snake had retreated; he could no longer hear or feel it nearby. Just to be sure, though, he moved in incredibly small increments, very slowly, towards the edge of the tank. First his uninjured foot, then leg, then hip. Finally he managed to slide his entire body down to the ground, where he crouched and ripped open his pants-leg. Definitely poison. The puncture wounds were surrounded by a deep red tint that laced menacingly across his entire lower calf. The area was swollen; the tissue had risen at least an inch above what was normal.
Damn it.
Trowa crept to the cave opening, limping slightly. He listened. No men. No sirens. No lights. Even the alarm sounded far away. So he slunk…ever so slowly…past each tree…past each cage…feeling the poison spreading with each staggered breath.
He caught something out of the corner of his eye. He feared hallucination…for he could have sworn he saw a large tawny tail around the side of the next and biggest cage. He passed it off as a bit of rope…or possibly a hallucination. It was plausible, seeing as he had no idea what the creature that had bitten him looked like. Or what it could do to him.
He carried on, but in a state of sheer agony. What in God's name was that serpent? Mamba? Coral? He prayed neither. Rattler he could handle, but it hadn't feltlarge enough to be an adult rattler.
Without warning, his leg gave, and he sank to his knees in the shadow of the cage. I have to make it; if I am found…
He started, sensing a presence.
He looked up in alarm: there, bathed in the moonlight like a proud statue of what it really was, stood the biggest lion Trowa had ever seen.
Now, snakes were not Trowa's specialty. But lions were.
But that didn't matter now. A lion couldn't help him in this situation. A doctor maybe…a really good doctor.
The lion stared, its dark eyes and mottled nose glistening damply. Its whiskers twitched. It lowered its shaggy head and set one huge paw forward. It began a slow approach. After several failed attempts to rise, Trowa could do nothing but watch. Great. Bitten by a snake, and now mauled by a lion. If I live, Duo will have me put in the Guinness Book of World Records.
When the formidable animal was only a few paces away, it lowered its proud head and looked—looked—directly into Trowa's face. And for some reason, the man could no tear his gaze away from the beast.
The poison seemed to throb in his very veins; he knew he had mere minutes to live. It was, perhaps, even too late for a doctor. The lion took another step. Trowa felt his body sway, and fall, and hit the pebbled ground. He was staring up at the starless sky, which was soon filled with the hulking yellowish outline of the lion. As his vision blurred, he saw it open its mouth. As he was just beginning to slip into blackness, it opened its enormous mawas if to swallow him. Instead, Trowa felt his own mouth opening as if to swallow something. The lion emitted an earth-shattering roar.
Trowa blacked out.
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He had a fantastic dream. In it he was running at superhuman speed through the same army base. But instead of running from the alarm, he was running towards it. His thighs flexed powerfully, the muscles bunching tight and lean beneath his skin. The wind was a beautiful rush around him; he must have been moving as fast as an in-town car. He bared his teeth in anticipation.
He wanted to cheat them. Let them catch me now.
He knew they never would. He saw them gathered at the base of the building next to the broken shop. He came into the light too quickly for them to aim with their guns. He pressed back on his heels in the run, readying his entire body.
He sailed over them in an impossible leap, and landed on the dark rooftop. Their bullets littered thin air behind him. He danced from rooftop to rooftop,wonder at his ability pushing him further. He jumped from one end of the town to the other in quarter his normal time. He ran further, past the edge of town and into the open indigo fields. He sprinted on, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of movement.
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He awoke to the sound of a male voice nearby.
"Trowa?"
He cracked one eye open lazily, only to see nothing on either side of himself, just a sheer drop. He calmly assessed the situation: he had been sleeping stretched out on one of the wooden beams above his—he looked over the edge to be sure—yes, his bed. He was ten feet up, his legs draped over the side and a torn piece of—he checked to be very sure—armchair, yes, beneath his head.
Quatre's blond head bobbed into view beneath him, his pale face turned up in surprise. "Trowa…do you, uh, need to be alone right now?"
"No. I'm fine." In truth, he felt very fine. And very fat. His belly bulged more than normal and he had trouble repositioning himself on the beam. He finally managed to drop down, and, hanging from the beam by his arms, he swung himself over his bed. He landed on it clumsily, and fell.
"Trowa…" Quatre looked extremely concerned, though he seemed to be trying to disguise it.
"I'm fine." Trowa insisted. He spotted the mangled armchair across the room. He assessed his broken window. How on earth…
"I'm glad you're back, Trowa. Wufei was upset when you didn't get out in time, but we heard you banging about in here in the early morning…and the cook said she saw you coming across the lawn. So we knew you were safe."
"Yes I am." But I shouldn't be. Not after all that.
"Quatre…"
The blond Arabian man turned, and gave him the undisguised version of his earlier look. "Yes, Trowa."
"Would you believe me if…well, I think I had the strangest dream." This statement was so verbose and seemingly out of character for Trowa, even to his own ears, but Quatre didn't seem in the least bit surprised.
"Really?" He said, moving closer to where Trowa was positioned on the bed. He leaned in secretively, until their heads were less than two feet apart.
"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
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HA HA! What'll I think of next…I'm so insane!
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