2019 cont.
Waking up late in the night, Bianca reluctantly opened up her eyes as she rolled over. The clock showed it was after 2am and she wasn't surprised to find the bed empty despite the fact they were staying in a hotel room where there were no extra places to sleep. The glare of the Las Vegas strip shone through the wide window. Bianca pushed herself up, wrapping the sheet around her, holding the edge at her chest as she walked over to the glass and looked out. Stained with raindrops, she could see people dashing here and there below as they frantically ran for shelter; holding newspapers, jackets or the odd pamphlet over their heads for makeshift cover. From here she could just make out part of the cascading waterfall that stood outside The Mirage, illuminated in golden light as if it was a gift from the gods.
Shuddering slightly at the coolness of the lowered temperature, she turned back towards the door, checking every available spot for Michael. He was nowhere to be found. Frowning, she headed towards the door, opening it slightly to look out. A tall, bulky, light-skinned man with a shaved head stood outside the door. Seeing how well-dressed he was, Bianca presumed he was part of the hotel security.
Closing the door quietly, she walked back towards the suitcase sitting on the floor, barely unpacked, and found some clothes to change into. Dressing and running a brush through her hair, she headed back towards the door intending to go down to the casino to find Michael. Stepping out, she found the guard immediately blocking her way.
"I'm sorry, miss, but you'll have to return to your room," he said.
"Why?" Bianca replied, indignant.
"I'm under orders to keep these rooms contained."
"But my partner's down in the casino!" Bianca protested, indicating towards the elevator. "I just want to go down and bring him back here."
"I'm afraid I can't allow that. Now please return to your room and wait for him there."
Pursing her lips, she stepped to one side and he followed. He wasn't letting her go anywhere. Glaring at him, she spun back around and went inside, closing the door and her eyes as she tried to shimmer out. Her attempts didn't work, leaving her both confused and worried that she had either forgotten how to use her powers or lost them altogether.
"What is wrong with me?" she whispered harshly, though it sounded much louder in the quiet room.
Pacing the room a few times, she finally took a seat on the edge of the king size bed, staring blankly at the television in the cabinet in front of her. She didn't want to watch it, and she didn't want to sleep, she just wanted to know where Michael had gone and why she now felt so powerless.
An hour passed, and it came close to the second before the door finally clicked open. Sitting in the darkness, almost slipping into slumber from sheer exhaustion, Bianca lifted herself up from the curled position she had formed at the end of the bed, watching as Michael dumped a small bag onto the stool by the door before peeling off his jacket.
"Where were you?" she inquired.
"Indulging in our profits," he explained without looking at her.
"In the casino?" she asked. He nodded. Glancing at the small bag, she looked back at him angrily, her voice rising. "You gambled away the bounty?"
"I was living the high life," he said, raising his hand and pointing forcefully at her. "Something of which you know nothing about."
"Maybe I could have if I had a chance," she shot back at him. "The guard wouldn't even let me out the door! And you just left me here going out of my mind over whether I've lost my powers, and where you'd gone to, while you were out enjoying yourself instead spending our money on booze and whatever else tickled your fancy. Was there even a point to me coming?"
"You know if I didn't feel I needed you, I probably would have left you behind."
Bianca looked down, unsure of whether he was paying her a compliment or just being cruel. Michael sat down next to her, lifting her hair with his hand over her shoulder. She glanced up at him.
"You haven't lost your powers," he said softly. "You're probably just worn out. It can happen. That's why I left you here, so you could sleep and reenergise. It's not going to do you any good if you stay up all night worrying about where I am and what I'm doing."
"Give me reason not to," she whispered.
Studying her eyes for a moment, he turned back, pushing down his boots with his hands and throwing them towards the wall.
"We'll shimmer back tomorrow. You shouldn't worry about the money, it's not like we have to fly back, nor are we short on jobs. We'll have just as much next week." Looking back at her he continued: "You're not frivolous or materialistic, Bianca. I know that. I don't understand where this sudden insecurity is coming from."
"I just don't want to feel like I've wasted my time," she said quietly.
"You haven't," he assured her. "Up until now at least. You're wasting your time fretting over trivial things when you should be sleeping. Now lie down before I do decide to leave you behind, with or without your powers."
Dismissing the threat, she focused instead on the fact he had called her feelings for him trivial. Defensively, she wanted to tell him how important he was to her, but he didn't seem to care. Agitated, she finally lay down and grasped the pillow tightly as she pulled it under her head. What more could she do to make him happy? Whatever she did, whatever she tried, no matter how many times she did what he asked with or without resignation, it just never seemed to be enough. She wondered if he'd even dare to lie next to her. Listening hard, she heard him move off to the bathroom and close the door. Shutting her eyes, she kept listening for that continued silence, the one that would tell her he'd taken off somewhere again. She knew all too well what he was like, but her theory shattered when she heard his voice coming through the wall – soft enough so that she couldn't hear what he was saying, but rhythmically patterned out as if he was reciting an incantation. Her heard feeling light, she quickly drifted off to sleep.
The sun's rays shone through the window when she awoke, illuminating the cream and burgundy textures of the furniture and walls. Lifting herself up, she found that despite the interrupted stream of sleep overnight, she wasn't tired at all.
Running a hand through her hair, she looked at the clock and found it was nearly time to check-out. Looking across to the other side of the bed, she was surprised to find Michael laying there. Even in his sleep he looked combative – one hand flat on his stomach and the other tucked behind the pillow underneath his head, seemingly ready to conjure a sharp object at the ready. Tilting her head to the side she watched him for a moment. Never having seen him sleep, never having him so near to her in such an off-guarded manner, she was tempted to take some initiative and do something she wanted to do, and to take back a little control herself. Leaning down over him, hovering for a few seconds just inches from his face waiting to see if his eyes would open, she gathered enough courage to continue her path and kiss his lips. Within seconds he was awake, aware, his hands striking with deadly force as they rushed forward grabbing her, throwing her onto her back on the other side of the bed, pinning her down as he pressed her body deep into the mattress.
"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.
"Nothing," she answered innocently. Seemingly realising exactly what position he had her in, his eyes roamed down her body then back up again. She searched his face as his eyes came back into contact with hers, looking for a reaction, some kind of sign so that she knew how he felt but again she could only see that same stone-cold expression he always wore on his face. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes."
Giving her shoulders a little push, he propelled himself backwards. "Don't start thinking you're in charge now. You can get away with one stunt, but you start pulling more and you're going to get yourself into trouble. Don't give in to weakness."
Closing her eyes briefly, she sat herself up as she watched him pick up the suitcase and throw it onto the bed, scooting her feet out of the way hastily so he wouldn't hit her with it. Flipping it open, she watched as he threw in the small satchel he'd left on the chair overnight. Closing and locking it, he pushed it towards her.
"Shimmer back. Take that with you," he instructed. "I'll go check out."
Hesitantly looking at him, she reached out and pulled the suitcase towards her, tightening her grip on the handle.
"You're coming back too, right?" she asked.
Sighing, he looked back to her. "Yes, I'll meet you back at home. Just let me do this first, okay? Can't let them send out the search party if they think we've just vanished out of thin air now, can we?"
Lifting herself up, she shimmered back to the living room of his apartment, looking around as if she expected something to have changed in their overnight absence. Placing the suitcase on the couch, she wanted to open it to see exactly how much of their bounty was left; tempted to even throw the entire thing over the balcony she was so annoyed with what he had done.
"Bianca," Michael said from behind her. She looked up and over her shoulder quickly. "You didn't believe me?"
Biting her bottom lip, she sadly looked away. She didn't know what to make of him. For someone she had known for many years, had lived with, had slept with, and had given her heart to, it still felt like he was a stranger.
The shrill echo of the phone rang from the kitchen as Michael began heading back through the bedroom towards the bathroom. Bianca let go of the suitcase, letting it drop flat onto the cushion beneath it.
"Can you get that for me?" Michael called out to her.
Turning her head from the bedroom door towards the kitchen, she moved slowly toward the phone, as if answering it might be the start to something of a bad nature. She was beginning to think her instincts were right once she picked up the receiver and was greeted by Abe on the other end.
"Where's Michael?" he inquired.
"He's here," Bianca started.
"He's late!" Abe shouted down the other end of the phone, Bianca pulling the receiver away so he wouldn't blast her eardrums. "What did the two of you get up to that kept you so long?"
"Nothing, we were sleeping."
"Just put him on," Abe demanded.
Wandering towards the bedroom doorway she saw the bathroom door closed, heard Michael again speaking as she had heard earlier that morning before she'd fallen asleep.
"Michael!" she called.
He wrenched the door open, stepping outside and closing it behind him, finally looking over to her.
"It's for me?" he questioned.
"Abe," she said shortly, holding the phone out towards him.
Michael quickened his pace towards her, snatching the phone from her hand and instantly moving away from her, back out towards the kitchen. Curious about what he had been doing, Bianca walked over to the bathroom and opened the door slowly, peering inside. Water stains, a few candles, she found nothing that looked different from the usual. Closing the door again she walked back out to where he was, watching him hang up the phone and head straight for the front door.
"Where are you going? What did he want you for?" she asked.
"Reports. I'm late. Stay here," he said quickly, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him.
She stared at the door, glancing back towards the kitchen as she seated herself on the couch. Thinking it over, she wondered why she'd let him leave on his own. It was her mission as well; she didn't need to leave all the responsibility with him. Pushing herself back up, she tried to shimmer out and again found she couldn't go anywhere. Frowning, she tried again. She had gotten back here with no problem, but now she couldn't leave. Glancing towards the door she thought she'd have to try the practical approach and walk over, or at least speed her way to the base of the building to catch up with Michael. Pulling the door open wide, she stepped out into the hallway, freezing when she saw the man standing there, his back against the wall and his arms folded.
"What are you doing here?" she yelled, surprised to see him. As he unfolded his arms and stepped towards her, she glanced down at his hands and saw the top half of a Phoenix birthmark on his wrist. Confused, her eyes trailed back up to his face as he stepped closer. "I thought you were just hotel security, casino security; you're not supposed to be here, you're supposed to be in Las Vegas."
"The only place I'm meant to be is where Michael tells me to be," he answered.
"Michael?"
"Yes, and right now it's here. Now go back in before I have to do something I don't want to."
Bianca took a step back, her eyes locked on him and his movements. Quickly she glanced at the door before concentrating on his form again. He had sounded threatening. She wouldn't be able to defend herself without her powers. But he'd also said he was under orders from Michael, and she knew he wouldn't keep her guarded unless she was a threat. Her hands behind her back as he blocked off any escape she had, she decided to try something small. Curling her hand up, she conjured a pair of dice into them, pleased to feel the cool cubic surfaces against her hand, the corners digging into her palm. Satisfied that her powers were working again and not wanting to be confrontational, she stepped back into the apartment and shoved the dice into her rear pocket. Closing the door, she decided to try to shimmer out again and completely surpass the guard. Again she found she could not do it. Holding her hand out in front of her, she tried to conjure something else but her palm remained empty. She looked back towards the bedroom doorway, thinking of how she had heard Michael saying something earlier, thinking of how it had sounded the same as what she'd heard in the hotel room. It was Michael, it had to be Michael. He'd cast some kind of containment spell over where she was so she couldn't get out, so she couldn't use her powers. He was playing gatekeeper, taking great pride in being able to hold the keys to her freedom.
Throwing her hand down in frustration, she raced out onto the balcony and gripped the edge, tilting her body over as she looked down onto the street below. It was too high up for her to climb down, and she wasn't about to throw herself to her death. Turning around, she walked back to the living room and grabbed the suitcase, determined now more than ever to throw it over. As it tumbled open in her hands, obviously unlatched, she saw that the bag containing the bounty was gone. Now furious, feeling as if she'd been played, she took the empty suitcase and tossed it from the balcony. Racing back to the living room she collected his spilled belongings and threw them over as well. Hearing a click at the doorway, she turned back and looked inside the apartment, her hands still resting on the balcony wall.
"Bianca, what the hell are you doing?" Michael yelled out as she stalked back inside, looking at him darkly. "I won't have you throwing temper tantrums in my apartment!"
"Why not? You think you can do whatever the hell you want to, why can't I?"
"I'm not going over this with you again. You want to act like a spoilt brat, fine, but I'm going to equal everything you do."
Waving his hand, her clothes vanished from the floor. Bianca raced forward angrily, fuming as she stopped in front of him.
"What gives you the right to take away my freedom? You have guards on the door – all the way from Las Vegas to here, you have people keeping me inside while you roam free. You took away my powers so I can't go anywhere or do anything. I'm not your prisoner, Michael! Why are you doing this to me?"
"I have to protect what's valuable to me," Michael said, unfazed. Slowly Bianca shook her head.
"Don't you lie to me. Don't pretend you care when you don't!"
"You want the truth, Bianca? You want to know why I keep you here? You're a prime fighter and a good fuck."
Enraged, she instantly raised her hand, swinging hard to slap him across the face, her hand stopped by his just short of making contact. Expertly he twisted her arm around so that he had it flat against her back, pain shooting up and down her wrist and arm as he tightened his grip and yanked it further up between her shoulder blades, leaning down close to her ear.
"Don't you ever do that," he growled. "You only do what I tell you to. You are mine, wholly, completely. You surrendered to that years ago. Don't act like you never knew."
As much as it hurt, Bianca attempted to pull forward, twisting away, trying to wrestle out of his grip. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. His controlling attitude had gone too far this time – now he was viewing her as a possession – like his couch, his phone, his bed. She wasn't something he had bought or earned, circumstances had just made it this way.
"Let me go!" she cried, trying to pull away from him again. He only tightened his grip, yanking her back hard against him.
"Don't even think about it. We have eyes and ears everywhere. You know that. We'll find you."
Pressing her tongue against her teeth, she listened to what he was saying. The thought had never occurred to her, but now he was giving her ideas. He'd always told her you could never escape the Phoenix, but now he was giving her hope. The very fact that he was worried about it told her it was possible. Roughly he pushed her forward, her leg hitting the base and her forearm bashing the arm of the chair as she fell into it. Tossing her head, she looked at him hatefully as she turned around. He was holding one hand in the other, rubbing his thumb over his palm as he looked at her. She didn't like the look in his eyes at all. Deciding against being more violent towards her, he turned towards the door and left again, leaving her in the exact same powerless and incarcerated situation she had been before. Rushing at the door behind him, she pulled at the handle and found it locked.
"You can't keep me in here!" she shouted, beating her fist against the door.
It was no use, he didn't come back. Reluctantly she made her way back to the couch, sitting down and inspecting the rapidly forming bruise on her arm. She didn't know how many hours had passed before she heard a voice at the door, a familiar one that could almost pass for friendly.
"Michael's not here," she heard the guard say.
"Oh, okay, well should I come back later?" Greg asked. "I mean, I didn't think he'd be this long in Nevada."
"Do so. He is back, but just gone out."
"Greg!" Bianca shouted, jumping to her feet and racing for the door. If she had any hope of getting out of here, then maybe he could provide her with it.
"Either fighting or fucking, right?" Greg sighed. "Don't look at me like that, you know his reputation. Common knowledge." Hearing Bianca call out an element of surprise descended into his voice. "Is Bianca still in there?"
"Greg, let me out!" she shouted, trying to be louder this time.
"Oh c'mon, I know she's hot and all, but it's not like I want to have my piece of her while he's away," Greg said sarcastically.
"You can't let her out, Michael's orders," the guard snapped, stepping in closer to the doorway. Greg tilted his head to the side.
"Yeah, seems he's getting a bit high-and-mighty now he's directly under Abe. Just cause he's trying to keep her away from every other piece of ass he's getting, this is totally unreasonable. He can't keep her caged, it's inhumane." Greg raised his hands towards the lock and the guard tried to move himself between Greg and the door with little success. "Did you forget I have extra mojo?"
Greg blasted the lock, taking a small chunk out of the door in the process. The guard moved away, taking a step around to the back of Greg and thrusting his hand into the middle of his body.
"No, but I wouldn't mind it for myself," the guard said.
Finally draining Greg of his powers, the guard conjured an athame and plunged it into his chest, watching as his body disintegrated, flaming away into nothingness. Bianca pulled the door open, seeing Greg's body for only seconds before he disappeared. Her eyes lifted towards the guard, smug that he had stolen Greg's powers and destroyed an intervening Phoenix. She could have panicked, she could have screamed and cried about it, but instead she remained calm. The only obstacle between her and outside, and she knew her powers worked outside of this door, was the guard.
"You know he's right," she said. Tilting her head and lifting her chin as she stepped in towards him. "You obviously know what you're doing. I like that. If Michael gets to play, why shouldn't you? Not like anyone's here. And you can always keep a closer eye on me from inside."
Her fingers playing about his chest, trailing lightly down to his stomach, she waited to see the change in his eyes, to see whether he would fall for it or not. She smiled as he raised his eyebrows, nodding genially, taking a step or two back and seeing him follow her inside. Softly she closed the door behind them, not wanting him to be suspicious in the least.
"Why don't I get us something to drink?" she said, heading towards the kitchen as he seated himself on the couch.
Frantically she went through the cupboards, keeping low and as quiet as she could as she searched for the motherwort. She needed enough to knock him out otherwise she was going to find herself in a predicament she didn't want to be in. Finally discovering a small jar with the powdered version, thankful that it was already conveniently in dissolvable format, she next began to look through the cupboards for something strong enough that he wouldn't notice the odd taste. Grabbing a bottle of scotch, she placed it on the counter as she fossicked in the higher cupboard for two glasses. Placing them on the counter as well, she quickly glanced towards the guard, ensuring he wasn't watching what she was doing. She didn't want to be caught out spiking his drink in an attempt to knock him out.
Keeping one glass far on her left, she poured out the scotch and sprinkled the motherwort into it, swirling it around lightly so that the herb would settle as she took the glasses into the living room. She held the glass containing the motherwort out to him as she held the other close to her chest. Instead of taking it, he just looked at it vigilantly.
"It's just one glass. It's not going to kill you," she said.
As if to illustrate her point, she quickly downed the liquid, trying not to give a distasteful change of expression as it burned her throat on the way down. At first suspicious of her comment, the guard found her demonstration quite amusing, taking the glass from her and devouring it in the same fashion. She waited for a reaction and was disappointed to find that it was not instantaneous. Placing her glass on the coffee table behind her, she wondered how she could bide her time without having to engage into any kind of falsely promised fornication with the man in front of her. Spying his arm brushing by her leg as he placed his own glass next to hers, she suddenly found his arm wrapped around her legs. Pulling her forward, she landed on his lap, and was now close enough to see the leering look in his eyes.
"You like the hard stuff, do ya?" he questioned rhetorically.
Already feeling sick to the stomach, she wanted to pull away from his alcohol tinged breath, but she kept herself composed, knowing there was a reason she was doing all this, and unless she wanted to end up in a worse situation she had better play along. Lifting her fingers to his face, she gently traced his jaw line.
"Well it wouldn't be any fun if it wasn't," she said, playfully pouting.
Taking her hand, he kept his eyes on her as he pressed the base of her palm to his lips, throwing it away as he moved closer to her face. Leaning back as his body leaned forward, having the fleeting thought she was going to end up under him at this rate which wouldn't be a smart idea if he suddenly dropped off to sleep, she lifted her index finger and pressed it to his lips, barring him from going any further.
"This isn't exactly the most proactive position to be in," she said. Leaning forward, putting all her weight onto one knee, she lifted the other leg over his and straddled his waist, her face now only inches from his. "Much better."
Placing her hands on his face, she raised herself up so that she was pressed more into his body, rubbing her thumb harshly across his lips so that she wouldn't pick up any of the motherwort. Satisfied she was safe, she leant down and kissed him, feeling his hands travelling up her back and then firmly pressing down on her head. With great effort, she pulled back, his hands now wandering down towards her jeans and popping open the button. Her hands walking their way down his chest, she drew in a panicked breath as her eyes made their way back up to his and she saw they weren't even glazed. The herb wasn't taking effect fast enough, or at all. Trying to keep him distracted, she pressed herself against him again, pulling his head towards hers as she kissed him, fumbling in her back pocket with the other hand and scooping out the dice.
"Open up," she whispered, resting her forehead against his.
As he did so, she hastily brought her hand forward, pushing the dice into his mouth and down his throat. Snapping his jaw closed, she held her hand tightly over his mouth, her eyes darkening as she watched him struggle beneath her. She knew Phoenix's had no reconstitution abilities for suffocation, and this was an effective way to get rid of one. Seeing his eyes widen as he stared up at her, she saw the light begin to dim, and finally go as he passed away. Roughly pushing him as she stood back up, she refastened her jeans and looked around. Michael had been gone so long that surely he would be back any minute. There wasn't any time to pack, she had to leave now. Racing out into the hallway, she pushed her way into the fire escape and shimmered her way over to her aunt's place.
She wasn't sure if her Aunt Kate would be home, but it was worth a shot. It was the only place she could think of to go to, and it was away from Michael. But as she discovered when she walked into the kitchen, not far away enough. Sure her Aunt Kate was home, on the table, skirt hiked up to the knees, having one of those fun moments the two had always eluded to. She had never thought about it, never worked it out, but seeing him indulging in one of his two favourite pastimes according to Greg, and with someone she knew and knew well, it made her feel sick to her stomach. She could have handled anyone else, but her aunt – someone she'd loved and trusted her whole life – was betraying her. The same way that everyone she knew had betrayed her. With the odd feeling of having intruded and not belonging there, she spun quickly, taking the front way out and slamming the door behind her. She couldn't trust anyone anymore. The only person she could rely on was herself.
And so she threw herself out into the big wide world, frightened of what was to come now that she had to face it alone. Folding her arms she walked further down the darkening empty street, rubbing her arms as the wind picked up and scattered stray papers past her feet. She couldn't cry, she couldn't feel sadness, because right as this moment no emotion was stronger than that of hate. Discontentment ruled her being, and something as simple as knowing other people were suffering just as badly as her brought her some kind of pleasure. Stopping by the newsstand, she looked at the major headline for the day: Hilton Empire devastated by destruction of Lights of Paris nightclub. Mayor warns citizens to be alert not alarmed of terrorist activities. Superintendent Morris says San Francisco PD has cornered suspects and repeat activities will not be viewed lightly.
Falling asleep in the first sheltered place she could find, she woke the next morning and realised that she had nothing. She couldn't go back to Michael's, and she was certainly not going to face her Aunt Kate again. Her mother was completely out of the question. She would have to do something to survive – to provide herself with food, with shelter. There was only one thing she knew how to do, and that was be an assassin. She was going to have to work to survive. Now she understood everything she had been told. Everything she had ever learnt she was going to need. She knew she'd have to be evasive to avoid the Phoenix, to avoid being found, and that was going to be difficult with the same clientele, but now was the time to prove that she could do it better.
Running her hands back through her hair, she straightened her clothes and shimmered to a small cave in the underworld, a very thin and pale dark-robed man standing before her. She heard his neck crack brutally as he turned his head towards her, eyeing her with inquisitiveness.
"Phoenix, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice showing he was both nefarious by name and by nature.
"I want a job," Bianca replied confidently. "I want to kill someone for you."