Chapter 4
The lamp's light cast a shadow over the side of Gabrielle's face that Roger was watching. In a matter of seconds her face lost all its color. He turned his eyes to take a look at the list she mentioned, but she abruptly closed the laptop.
"Roger. Can you do me a favor?"
He hoped she would ask him to comfort her. "Sure."
"Can you go to my desk and get a floppy? I'm going to print this out at home and go over it more thoroughly." Gabrielle stared down at the closed laptop. The Dell logo stared back.
"What does it mean?" he asked. Roger blinked away the sweat dripping into his eyes.
"Will you please just do it?" Gabrielle couldn't find the energy to ruffle her fingers through her hair as she usually did while she was upset, frustrated, or in deep thought. Instead, she closed her eyes and saw the words of damnation painted on the insides of her eyelids.
Roger grabbed the door handle. It was slick in his sweaty grasp. He turned it and began to pull the door open.
The phone on Tiffany's desk rang. Roger leapt in fear and let out an unsurprisingly feminine scream. Gabrielle groaned with annoyance and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"You have to get me out of here."
The crackling coming from the other end of the line made the woman's voice difficult to hear. "Tiffany? You're still in the hospital, right?"
"Yes," static, like fear, shrouded her voice. "And I need to get out."
"It's past hours," Gabrielle objected. She looked out the window and noted the moon shining in the cerulean sky. "I'll get you tomorrow morning."
Silence filled the line. Roger hovered over Tiffany's desk, trying to make sense from Gabrielle's side of the conversation. He wiped sweat from his brow. Not receiving a response from Tiffany, Gabrielle continued. "Is your phone broken? All I hear is static."
"It got knocked over." When Roger gave her a inquisitive look, the blond shrugged. "Gabrielle, are you in the files?"
"Yeah. I'm going to save it to an external device and bring it home to look at when I can think. Is that okay?"
"No. But go ahead. They're coming after me. And if you took a look at the file, you know that I'm not the only one."
Gabrielle felt the receiver slide in her moistening hold. She tilted her head, cradling it between her ear and shoulder, and wiped her hands on the front of her thighs. Roger did the same. "I'll pick you up first thing in the morning. I promise."
"They moved me to another room. I've had an exciting stay."
Gabrielle didn't detect any excitement in her voice. "Great. Hang tight." She hung up the receiver and raised her heavy head to meet her curious work partner. "I'm bailing Tiffany out tomorrow."
"What?" Roger tried to whisper, but the word came out in a shriek. "She's not ready! You saw how beaten up she was. They won't release her."
"I have to try. Now get that floppy for me, will you?"
Roger left the room. Gabrielle stood alone in the office. She reached out to the lamp and turned off the light. Tiffany needed her. Arian needed her. The laptop, containing the information that was sending her to an inescapable fate, needed her. She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling it churn, remembering the last time someone depended on her for safety. A violent shudder took over her body. It was time to go to bed.
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The street warrior slid between alleyways and street corners with the unconscious gang member on her back. The wailing of police cars echoed from the distant corners of the city. She melted against black brick and rusty street poles. Those who passed by felt the wind rustle by her movements but their eyes could not catch up to the flashes of lightning in her wake.
Xena had a destination. She was anxious to lose the extra baggage. Strife grumbled against her ear. She forced the heel of her hand against his forehead to put a temporary stop to his struggle for revival. Strife's head fell limp against her shoulder once again. With his hands tied together at the base of her neck, he dangled from her cloaked body as she scaled an apartment complex.
Her blue eyes exposed themselves as she looked downward toward the city. Confident that she remained undetected, she continued her trek upward, ignoring the dead weight trying to hold her down. Rows and rows of windows blocking out the world with blinds or curtains passed on both her sides. As she neared the top of the building, she noticed a yellow light radiating from one of the windows. Xena approached with the glass to her left.
She paused. Uncharacteristic curiosity overtook her. Confident that she wouldn't be seen, the street warrior spared a glance into the apartment room. A young woman with short blond hair was leaning over an answering machine. Her back was to the window. She wore a green pair of track pants with a matching tank top. Her surroundings were simple and undecorated. The piece of furniture that looked to receive the most attention was a bookcase brimming over with books. The warrior's gloved hand curled around the window frame.
The girl was shaking her head, most likely at the voice message she was listening to. She was totally oblivious to the pair of icy orbs watching her from the outside. Then suddenly, the brief moment of observation abruptly ended. The man on Xena's back coughed and the girl swung her head around in response to the noise.
Quicker than a blink, Xena whirled out of her sight in the knick of time. She closed her eyes, sensing the blond girl's footsteps approaching the window. Xena couldn't believe the girl had even heard the muted noise that came from Strife's mouth. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, the warrior continued to climb upward. Upon reaching the roof, she grabbed the ledge with both hands and flipped herself backwards, away from the building, creating circling clouds of black in the air until she landed on the apartment complex's flat top.
Looking towards the west, she searched out the worn down warehouse where she would be returning Strife with her message. It was the most run down part of the city; where the crime rate was high and the law enforcement was null. Arian's hideout was situated relatively close to the inner heart of the city. Not for long. Arian wasn't stupid, and now that she knew where he was located he wouldn't stay there for long. No matter.
Xena would always know where to find him.
She took a deep breath and began to run. Her heavy boots slid silently against the roof as she increased speed. Her running body became nothing more than a black blur of motion before she ascended into the starless night. The long black cloak caught gusts of wind behind her body as she floated from one building to the other.
Strife's scattered consciousness tried piecing together what was going on. The incredible heights caused his ears to pop and the hard landings made his stomach drop. He managed an objective groan, but the street warrior ignored his pleas for stillness.
He was on Xena's back. He tried remembering what had happened. Pieces of his memory swam into vision. He was scaling the hospital wall. Arian gave him one last chance to prove himself as a worthy member of the group. "Pull this off, Strife, and I'll supply your drugs for the next year," he said. Then he was presented with the equipment. He concentrated harder. He was in the room. White. Before he could catch a glimpse of Tiffany, Channel 7 prey, something latched onto the top of his head and began clawing away at his temples.
His head still throbbed.
There was a stop to the soaring and jolting. He thought he would feel some peace. And he did, for a brief moment…
Finally. Time to remove the burden. Xena untied his hands that were bound together at her neck. He dropped to the hard ground. The warrior stood before the dark warehouse. She lifted Strife up by his elbows, staring at him from beneath her hood, waiting for him to come to.
He shook his head. Was it just his imagination, or did he feel breath on his face…?
Whatever he felt at first, it was followed by a hard slap. Strife's eyelids snapped open. "Okay, I'm up!"
"Good," the woman crooned. "I hope you remember my message."
Strife was in no position to patronize his captor. But he did it anyway. "Oh? And what if I don't?"
A shadow of a grin crossed her hidden lips. One of her hands appeared beneath his chin and began to crush it. After applying enough pressure, his jaw began to crack and he screamed again. "All right! All right, I'll tell him."
Xena looked at the outside wall they were standing by. On the other side was the room she attacked Discord and Arian in earlier. Both of them were still there, she knew, laying unconscious on the floor. Releasing one loud grunt, she threw Strife at the wall. He did his best to shield his face from the impact, but the shabby wooden strip came at him too soon.
He plowed into it, sending wooden splinters everywhere. Xena leaped out of sight while the boards came crashing down onto his frail body. Split planks of aged wood piled high on top of him. Released dust and mold enveloped the warehouse in a filthy cloud.
An especially large piece fell on top of Arian's chest. The impact awoke him with a start. He found his feet and tried looking through the dirty air.
"What the hell is this?" An annoyed female voice spoke. Discord emerged from the thick air, sporting a rumpled skirt and a large bump on her forehead.
"Xena." Arian whirled around as if he could see her through the dense atmosphere. Without giving his body time to regain its senses, he ran towards the cold outdoors. Almost half of the wall was reduced to a pile of rubble. He climbed the pile, unaware of Strife's presence, and stared out into the city's backyard.
"Xena!" his gruff voice echoed with frustration. No reply.
Dirt caked his square features. The dust irritated his eyes until the whites were as red as his irises. He released another scream of pure rage and stumbled back to the warehouse. By this time, over a dozen of his men had come to find out what happened. Sounds of confusion filled his ears. Arian stood on top of the mountain of wood and raised his scratched up arm to gather their attention.
"Listen!" When the hoodlums quieted, he spoke again. "Xena has made an enemy of us. She wants to stop the rebirth. She knows we are the chosen ones, and she will stop at nothing to foil our mission. We have a new priority; capture Xena, the Urban Myth!" Arian roared from atop his mound, and his subjects cheered in response. The new thrill excited them. They all lived for adventure, after all. Dispelled from living as normal citizens, and shown their true purpose by Arian himself, these men all worked for the same goal.
Arian let his arm fall to his side. The foundation he was standing on began to shake. He looked down and a bloody hand emerge next to his foot.
Discord laughed as Arian struggled to remove Strife from the pile of debris. The onlookers creased their brows in confusion. Where had he come from?
Strife choked on the dust that had entered his throat. Arian was there, tightly grabbing his hand to remove him from the debris. Too tightly. "Uh," he turned his head to spit out globs of blood and dirt. "Hey boss."
"Of course." Arian scowled. "Xena brings you back to me. This is quite the game to her, isn't it?" He released Strife's hand. The blond fell back onto the pile, but quickly jumped back to his feet.
"Oh, no way, she's serious boss." The daggers Arian's eyes shot Strife dared him to speak.
He did. After all, he had a message to deliver. "Xena wanted me to bring a message. Yeah, she said that uh, this… this is what happens when ya send someone else to do your 'dirty work.'" He conveniently omitted the part about his 'sloppiness.'
"Oh she did, did she?" Arian's deep voice returned to its usual charming cantor. The look in his eyes and widened gait hinted towards the rage growing inside of his chest. By returning Strife after she already had him, Xena was sending him a message. She wasn't worried at all. As far as she was concerned, she could easily forfeit the prophecy. And by destroying his hideout, she was relishing the prospective hunt.
So confident, Xena. It's too bad you haven't seen half of what I'm worth. Once I have you in my grasp, you'll know.
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The floppy disc never left Gabrielle's pocket. After arriving at her apartment, she had to spend a good half hour convincing Roger that she would be fine on her own. He was a persistent man, she gave him that, but also not very persuasive. The power of persuasion was coming to her as an annoying trait as well. Tiffany talked her into this mess. It was her fault Gabrielle was in this predicament.
Her hand rested against her pocket. Her name was on that list. Whose fault was that?
Gabrielle's answering machine flashed to inform her that she had new messages. Deciding to give herself a brief distraction, and curious as to who her first callers in over a week were, she went to the desk. Across the room, her curtains were open. She thought about shutting them, but decided against it. She hit the play button. A familiar, perky voice filled the silent air.
"Hey girlfriend! It's me, Venus. How've you been? You never returned my call last week! I know you think you're super busy and everything, but we need to hang out sometime. If you don't want to go to the spa, then I guess we can go workout. I bought a cute pink jogging suit that I can wear. So anyway, I'll, like, see you soon, kay?"
She puckered her lips before the answer finished. Gabrielle shook her head with a playful sigh. Venus would never change. Images of her time in college spent with the playful and beautiful blond filled Gabrielle's memory. They both attended the same college in the city, and sat next to each other in their "Philosophy of Sex and Religion" class. Right before their first exam, Venus asked if they could study together because her ex-boyfriend still had her notes and she couldn't "talk to that scumbag every again," and Gabrielle had her first study buddy.
Although Venus never said who her parents were or what they did for occupations, they gave her as much money as she needed while in school. Including a two-bedroom apartment located in the middle of the city, full furnishing included. Gabrielle shouldn't have been surprised, but she was completely overwhelmed by the amount of pink someone could have in one apartment. Sure, Venus did wear pink almost every day, but any average person would see it inconceivable to have it everywhere. One day Venus insisted that Gabrielle have a slice of strawberry swirl cheesecake. It came on a plate rimmed with pink and Gabrielle ate it with a fork that had a pink handle.
They stayed close throughout college. Venus was a psychology major. Aside from being interested in the history of sex and free love, she was also intrigued by other driving forces of the human psyche. She even practiced doing a therapy session with Gabrielle, free of charge of course. In the end, both girls ended up on the floor in tears embracing each other.
For Gabrielle, things had been awkward ever since. Venus wasn't affected in the least. After all, emotions came with the territory. Gabrielle wasn't very good at that.
She deleted the message. Tonight was a bad night. She could call her back tomorrow.
Gabrielle felt a strange tingling sensation crawl up her spine and spread across the base of her skull. She knew the window wasn't closed and ignored the cold chill.
Gabrielle moved on to the second message.
"Hi Gabrielle. It's me. Lyla. You didn't forget about your family, did you? We haven't heard from you in a while. Mom and dad wanna know if you're coming home for Thanksgiving, okay? So call us back and let us know. We miss you…" There was a significant pause. "Are you taking care of yourself?"
Gabrielle was now leaning over the answering machine, hanging on to each word her younger sister spoke. Her voice carried the innocence of youth that Gabrielle missed to a capacity beyond words. She shook her head. The gesture was more to herself than the machine below her. Worry shook Lyla's voice. Gabrielle heard it in the silence of the message. Now there was nothing left…
The cold chill traveled up her body again. This time it didn't stop. Constant, unbearable tingling enshrouded her head. It gripped her, took control of her body and mind. Suddenly, without knowing why, she whirled around and stared at the window.
A blur of black.
Without commanding her limbs to move, Gabrielle sprinted towards the window and slid it open. Her fingers were beginning to feel numb. As she stood there, gazing into the streets of the city blanketed by the starry sky, an intense longing filled her heart. The indescribable tingling had passed. With control of her body, she reached a hand out into the empty space in front of her window. Instead of wondering what had just happened or what that quick movement outside of her window was, she leaned against the window sill and sighed.
Something was about to happen. An event so great and incomparable to the superficial news she helped broadcast everyday. It would make or break her. The floppy disc was dead weight in her pocket.
Gabrielle went back to her desk and booted her computer. Now was the time.
After inserting the floppy disc and opening the files, she took an indepth look at the information. The first thing she found was the list. She printed it out.
They were all names, first and last, not seeming to be in alphabetical order. She skimmed through the first five, but number six caught her attention.
Philip Atazon.
Gabrielle grabbed a pen and drew a red star next to the name.
She stared at the paper on her desk. Having this information didn't help her to feel any better about the situation. Philip Atazon.
Strife. Discord.
"What odd names," Gabrielle whispered in the dark. Before approaching her own name, she found another familiar name…
"Callista? Callista!"
The paper crinkled in her hands as she gripped onto it. Cold, desolate memories of anger and betrayal filled her veins as she struggled to stop herself from scribbling red marker all over the woman's name. The tip of the marker pressed down into the paper, harder and harder, until she threw the marker across the room and wrapped her arms around her stomach.
As the memory relived itself the picture became clearer and the pain grew deeper. It was there, growing inside of her, spreading like a weed until she thought she would burst.
"Gabrielle!" A female voice called from outside her apartment door. Gabrielle's wailing had reached her ears. She pounded on the door, then pressed her ears against it. The crying was persistent. With every second that passed it grew to unbearable screams and pleas. She barreled into the apartment to find Gabrielle curled up into a fetal position on the ground, sobbing at an incredible volume.
She reached Gabrielle and bent down to try and look at her face. Puffy red eyes overflowing with tears stared up at her.
"Venus… why did I let her die?"