2025 cont.
Chris was bored out of his mind. He had inspected every corner of the room until he could look at nothing but the television The amount of crap on cable was insane, and he switched the screen back off in the blink of an eye, watching the little dot disappear to nothingness again. He had spent hours here, waiting, doing as Bianca had told him and still she hadn't returned. He wondered what she could have been doing all this time. The idle thought struck him that maybe she had gone and got herself killed, but he pushed it quickly aside reassuring himself with the knowledge that she always took her frustrations out on the opponent she was fighting, and typically she was more lethal in that frame of mind. It was more likely she had slaughtered ten men since she'd left than had someone attempting to kill her.
Stopping by the side table he picked up the magazine that lay there and quickly flicked through it. He knew Bianca more than likely hadn't touched it, she never had the time and no doubt it only sat there for show, as some kind of indication of normality.
Bianca shimmered in in a walking stride. Heading straight for Chris, she stretched her arms out before her and roughly shoved him onto the couch. Caught by surprise, the magazine slipped from his hands and fluttered to the floor.
"What did you do?" Bianca demanded. "What the hell did you do?"
"What? Bianca… I… what are you talking about?"
"You set him up, didn't you? Didn't you?" she shouted. "I can't believe you tried to kill your own brother!"
"No, I'm not trying to kill him, I'm trying to rehabilitate him, remember?" Chris responded calmly. "Besides, I knew he could handle it."
"Handle a darklighter? Handle being shot like some rabid prey while his powers were taken from him?"
"Darklighter? What darklighter?" Realization dawning on him at what she was suggesting, he shook his head furiously. "No, I sent him after the Scarborough. Obviously I was right and he found them simple if he was off fighting someone else."
"But you sent him down there. You led him into the trap, and then you tried to keep me here. What is wrong with you, Chris? Are you that selfish? Do you hate him that much you only wish ill upon him? If I hadn't gone there to find him he would be dead right now."
"Honestly, I had no idea. Trust me, Bianca, I knew nothing about it."
"How can I believe you after what I just saw? After what I had to do?"
"It's not my fault!" Chris insisted. "Have some faith in me, in us, in what we're trying to do."
Slowly Bianca shook her head. Everything he said to her now sounded as if it was a lie. She'd been deceived once more, and she'd just let it happen. If it wasn't for her own good grace, her own rational nature, things could have been far worse than they were right now, but she knew the man seated before her was blatantly deceiving her, just as they all had.
"Faith is hopeless. Honesty is a myth. Trust is a misconception. You're the real cause behind all of this. It's because of you he's had to suffer."
Chris glared at her, now getting angry himself. "Don't you dare say that to me. Don't you ever assume that you know what our lives were like. He's the only one inflicting the suffering, just look around you."
"At least he's not doing it unfairly," Bianca spat.
"Bianca, will you listen to yourself? You're being unreasonable! Whatever you saw, whatever he told you, you're not thinking clearly."
"Oh, I'm thinking very clearly. It's over, Chris."
"No. Don't do this. Don't wreck what we have."
"It's the only way."
"It's not, Bianca. I care about you. Don't give up on us. I'm not going to let you get hurt."
"It's too late. You can't stop it. It'll happen anyway. Everyone I've ever cared about either betrays me or dies. What makes you think you're an exception?"
"I'm not going anywhere," Chris said, trying to be reassuring but knowing he had no answer to her question. Who knew just how dangerous this could get?
"You are. Get out," she said flatly. He looked at her, astonished. "Leave, before I throw you out!"
Unsteadily he got to his feet, watching her warily, unsure how serious her threat was. He stepped away from her. Rethinking his decision to just leave without saying anything, he turned to face her determinedly as he folded his arms.
"I don't know what the repercussions of all this are going to be, but you better be careful."
"As long as I don't have to see you again, I'm sure I'll be fine."
Their eyes locked heatedly on each other, Chris saw she was not about to give way on any argument. His warning only coming off as a threat, he knew he had to leave before things got worse, to give them both enough time to cool down before trying to reason with her again. Breaking the stare, he orbed out.
"Thank you everyone for coming here," Wyatt said, looking amongst the myriad of faces that stood in a scattered half-circle facing him. He mentally noted those that stood on the arc of the crescent, fear apt in their systems as they intentionally stood at the furthest point away from him. "As you may or may not have noticed, the number of foes appears to be increasing. We have become a cult of sorts, with the world uniting to fight against us. Unbelievably even those without power still view our demise as a trendy cause. It is through my own personal injury that some light has been shed upon a few things, the first of which is why I have called you all here today. There is a Judas in our camp, boys and girls. They know who they are. One who walks amongst us with the façade of a loyal follower masking their true deception."
A feeling of guilt flickered within Bianca for a moment. Directing her eyes towards him, she lifted her chin defiantly; her gaze hardening as she reminded herself that she had nothing to feel guilty over. She had severed her ties with Chris, had driven a wedge straight through the middle of their unbalanced relationship that had not had the opportunity to find flat and stable ground. Although she was unsatisfied with not having given it an opportunity to work, she knew this was the best way to deal with things, and was relieved that now she could be here for Wyatt. Yet his eyes held a burning gaze as he stepped towards her, and she began to feel as if he knew something she was unaware he did.
"This person I have trusted on far too many occasions," he continued. Stopping before Bianca, she looked up at him, her esteem giving way to terror as she became certain she had been caught out, that somehow he'd discovered her fling with Chris. "I feel the time has come for us to bond together like never before. Because of this, limits have to be set and people made examples of. The first to defy me shall suffer the consequences of their actions, and that person is you."
Wanting to face her punishment courageously but lacking the bravery to do so, Bianca shrank away as he reached forward, but to her surprise she found it wasn't her pulled into everybody's field of view but the demon who had been trying to slink away behind her.
"This, my friends, is the face of deception. Take a good look – a very long hard look. He was the one who organized the darklighter attack on me. He is the one who has been feeding information to the opposing side. Now he is the one who's going to pay the penalty for his treachery. He shall be the first victim of this rule."
Before anyone had a chance to do or say anything, before the demon had the opportunity to finalize his cries of protest, Wyatt vanquished him with one masterful blow. Where before he had cut an imposing authoritative figure, now he appeared as a vindictive vengeful monster. Not one person seemed safe from his wrath as his anger doubled.
"Let this be a warning to everyone here, to anyone who is even remotely contemplating the same. There is now a no tolerance policy on betrayal. If I see even one of you making moves in a direction I'm not fond of, then your actions shall be met with certain death. And believe me, it gets much worse than what you've just witnessed. You have no idea what I'm capable of. If you value your lives, then I'd advise you not to cross me."
As the others in the room readily agreed to Wyatt's demands, Bianca's gaze drifted to the darkened doorway and through the shadowed recesses of the room. In effect she was looking for Chris, for he always seemed to be lurking around at such important moments as this. This was a warning he needed to heed. She, on the other hand, was beginning to feel perfectly safe. Wyatt did not suspect her of anything, and although her assumption of Chris had been wrong, she still felt justified in what she had done. She had made things right, although she had let a month slip by after that moment of weakness. She wasn't inclined to do any great misdeeds as Wyatt had suggested ever again.
"Bianca," Wyatt said sternly. She jolted; unaware he had stopped in front of her again. He turned his head in the direction she had been staring. "What are you looking at?"
"Keeping an eye out for eavesdroppers," she answered quickly. It was, in part, a true statement and she knew he would be pleased by this action.
"I don't see anything," Wyatt said, his gaze switching back to her. "But you were always smart enough to think of something like that. Everybody could take a leaf out of Bianca's book, she knows what she's doing and how to act appropriately."
The comment was met by a few jealous stares, but Bianca remained composed despite knowing the wrongs she had committed. She watched as Wyatt, tired of the nonsense and lacking belief in his troops, masterfully waved them all away. He watched, waiting as one by one they left in an array of various transportive ways until Bianca was the only one left in the room.
"Thank you for looking out for me," he said kindly. He lifted his hand but thought better of it; his palm slightly brushing her arm as he quickly lowered it to his side again.
"I can't have been much help," Bianca returned. "I didn't even know Amos had anything to do with that darklighter."
"Even so, you still remain aware. Everybody plays their own part in this game. I'm grateful to have someone with your skill and perseverance on my side."
"As confidant as you are in my abilities, you don't have to hold me in such high regard."
"In comparison to the others, I do. There's something special in you in both head and heart. An immeasurable belief in what is worthwhile, a spark that alights when you are imbued with a cause. I see only dullness and compliance in the others. You have the kind of passion that intrigues me. You provide me with the hold when things start slipping. Forever I shall be indebted to the help you have given me. I'm glad to have found you and thankful for the years we've had to build on this."
Her eyes crossed his face. He had given her so much during that time, a sign of salvation when she had lost everything. Was it not right that she should feel the same? Shouldn't she feel appreciative for everything that he had done?
She heard a sound behind her and whipped around quickly. Instinctively she fired up an energy ball, not at all stunned to see Chris stumble into the room.
"Why am I not surprised?" Wyatt remarked. "Intercept a memo, did we Chris?"
"Yeah. And either I'm incredibly early or extremely late."
"That would be the latter."
"What's she still doing here then?" Chris questioned.
"Oh, did you miss that discussion too?" Wyatt said sarcastically. "Too bad. Go ahead, Bianca, take your shot."
Bianca pitched the energy ball at Chris, watching as he fleetingly ducked out of the way. It was a purposeful near miss. She may have felt bitter towards him, but she didn't want to kill him.
"You're lucky. She doesn't usually miss," Wyatt informed Chris as he straightened.
"Must be," Chris said, his eyes following Wyatt's every move before he shifted his gaze to Bianca. There was something different in her eyes now, a minor glimpse of dissuasion but not the pure hatred she had held before.
"What do you want, Chris?" Wyatt asked. "Meeting's over, and it appears that you've failed to take notice of the warning signs that your presence is not wanted nor required here."
Still keeping Bianca within his sights, Chris looked back to Wyatt. His brother had taken a few steps closer to him and enlarged the distance between he and Bianca. Chris was almost tempted to orb behind him and just grab her, but he knew she wouldn't put up with that, and besides she had called it off, from what he could gather it was simply to lay her loyalty down to Wyatt.
"I want to know what's so important about you," Chris demanded childishly. Wyatt laughed. "Why are you keeping a death grip on everyone?"
"Oh and here I was thinking you needed to be reminded of the twice-blessed child prophecy again. That can hardly be forgotten."
"Maybe not to you," Chris said sourly.
"He is leading us towards a better world," Bianca spoke firmly. Chris looked as her uncomprehendingly, amazed to hear her say such a thing after all they'd discussed. "You haven't got any right to intervene. Get out of here, Chris, or next time I won't miss."
Shaking his head, Chris turned and headed back out the way he'd come in. Wyatt approached Bianca again, his eyes carefully watching his brother's figure as it disappeared out the door. His gaze fell back on Bianca, noticing her lower her head in a regretful yet thoughtful manner.
"Has he been bothering you?" Wyatt questioned insightfully.
"Not lately," Bianca answered. "I haven't given him the courtesy."
Wyatt looked at her sympathetically. "I've got a meeting to attend with the Tsarkis. There're a few loose ends that need to be tied up. If you're feeling less than secure, you're welcome to join me."
Looking towards him she smiled appreciatively. "I'll be fine."
Her gaze traveled away into unobserved territory as it moved towards looking at nothing, her mind instead delving inwards and letting her inner thoughts circulate whilst Wyatt orbed out. Slowly she drifted towards the door, the quietness broken by the chopping sound of a helicopter as it passed over the abandoned building. Bianca barely had time to glance up before she was yanked to the side. Flattening her palm, she thrust her heel into the chest of the ambushing assailant. A small sound of wind escaping the larynx leapt from his mouth. Closing it quickly, Chris rubbed his chest where she'd hit him.
"Ow! Don't you look before you strike?" he asked.
"Generally, no," she answered. "It keeps the faces out of my head."
"Can I talk to you?"
"No."
"Bianca," he rebuked. She folded her arms and stared at him as a child would rebel against their parents when being lectured about something they didn't want to hear. "I've been thinking about things, about us."
"Chris," she said tiredly, rolling her eyes away as she interrupted him.
"Listen," he insisted, taking hold of her arms with his hands. She felt the warmth and dampness of them, knowing instantly he was nervous. No matter how brave he tried to look as she faced him, his body was giving away the feelings of paranoia underneath. "I've been thinking about things, about what you said. I realize I was wrong to push you into that situation, but I couldn't help it. I shouldn't have done what I did either but selfishly I was thinking about us and not the problems it would cause other people. I was following my heart because that's where you are."
"Aw, how romantic," she mocked. "Mind you, I don't buy it. Maybe some other blonde bimbo-ess would. Are you sure you don't mean your blood because that's the only thing I ever felt pulsing when I was around. I know though, when it comes to you, you're nothing but a cancer trying to take hold of my mind. I spent so long agonizing over what you were telling me, what Wyatt told me, and it was hurting me, Chris. I didn't know who to believe, who to trust anymore. You may have followed your heart but I followed my head and did what was best for me."
"To ensure survival, right? You know there's more out there than just Wyatt and his quest for world dominance. If the job is all you're worried about, then we'll get you a new one, another career. You don't have to live like this."
"And you don't understand!" Bianca shouted back at him, feeling the tears burning in her eyes at the very thought of what she had done. "I can't just trade this in. This is what I do, Chris. This is what I've done my whole life! I don't know how to do anything else! Whether I like it or not, I'm trapped. I can't just move on. I'm going to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life and there's nothing anybody can do to change that."
"We can try," Chris said reassuringly, moving closer to her. "Bianca-"
"Go away, Chris," she said softly. "Please, just go away."
Pressing her palm lightly against his chest this time, she pushed herself away from him, finding that he wasn't about to move, only that she had the sudden need to get away. She couldn't handle the pressure from him, the mind games, the memories he was unintentionally digging up. But most of all she could not let him see her cry, crying was a weakness, one that led to many bad things including disappointment. She couldn't let down her defences to him nor open herself up completely about her past. There were too many things there she didn't want to remember. If she could just stay away from everybody, then maybe she wouldn't have to think of the unpleasant things anymore.
Shimmering away from him, she reappeared back at her apartment. She didn't feel safe here, not when she knew just anybody could shimmer or orb their way in. She needed to be somewhere small, contained, cluttered; somewhere where she could hide. She wasn't small enough to crawl behind the back of the couch as she had done when she was little, not that it would help any. She'd still feel exposed, the room itself felt far too large and open right now. Instead she opted for the place she had hidden after her first kill, a place with a floor, many large pieces of furniture, and cold water. Even the chill of the tiles would make her feel better, feel human, to feel like she was actually there.
Escaping into the bathroom, she closed the door firmly behind her, fastening the lock on the back that right at this moment seemed all too convenient. Sinking down onto the floor she felt the first few tears seep from her eyes and slide down her face. Resting her head against the cool tiles, she closed her eyes to the scenery around her, but found that even that darkness could not block the memories from rushing back. All the heartache, threats and fear flooded her mind, and suddenly she felt very small and insignificant in this world. She began to blame herself for everything bad that had happened, recollecting everything she had done and playing it over in her mind like some kind of gruesome movie. She watched as her mother blamed her for not having the perfect life, as Michael blamed her for every mission they'd failed, as Abe called her useless and a nuisance, as Michael called her all kinds of things but nothing hurt worse than his final words to her which resulted in her being viewed as nothing more than a whore. She turned her arms up on her knees, looking at the birthmark, remembering the time she had physically taken it out on herself. He'd helped her then – but was every kind of assistance and sympathy only going to lead to more pain? Right at this moment it felt like it, and all she could do was think of how to make it worse. There was nothing anyone could do to help her; the frail things she'd place her hope and salvation in seemed far too thin to stop her fall now.
Choking on a sob, she allowed the tears to flow freely now, gave herself permission to be able to cry. She had assured herself that no-one would find her now. She was safe, she wouldn't be seen. She could let everything out, and then it would be over, and no-one would ever know. Curling up, she buried her head in her arms, hating what she had become. She drew her arms tighter and pressed her face further against them as she attempted to smother the sounds of her own weeping and still the tears dampening her face. Finally as she became certain she could cry no more, she lifted her head and brushed back her hair with her hand, the other still clinging to her knee. Her face felt hot and flushed and she knew she had to move towards the sink, to run the water and wash away the evidence, but for the moment she couldn't move. For the moment she was trying to resuppress the memories she had let out, the ones she never wanted to see again. Then she would harden herself, become bitter and cold as she had been before, raise her wall of defence so that she could never be hurt again.