Hi everyone!
So, let me explain what happened.
First, was I was continuously sick. Second, was that I kept losing what I was writing off of my phones, because of constant changes in my phone itself. Third, I knew what I wanted to write but I couldn't get it out. And fourth, and final, I'm getting ready to leave for school, so its been a bit chaotic. So yes, I did take a hiatus without notice.
Anyways, I really hope you like this chapter. It's been long overdue!
The moonlight was never more ominous, paralleling as a way of guidance in the midst of the night, but also shielding the three men that stood on the sidewalk. The backdrop of the white illumination made the men appear black as night, but their cackles and coughs, as well as their snickering comments, only gave Rebecca a clear idea of who she was standing in front of.
Rebecca stared down the figures, her body paralyzed. She felt her feet stick to the ground, and despite the natural instinct to run, she couldn't. It was as if a slow, thick glue was running down her joints, hardening as it went. The world seemed to run slower, as if time chose this moment to take a break, leaving the sidewalk scenario still as can be.
At least for Rebecca.
"Wonder why she's out so late," One of them sneered, hooking his arm around the other two as he drunkenly led them closer to Rebecca.
"Looking for someone to talk to."
"Maybe she broke up with her boyfriend."
"And now she needs someone to hold," the men groaned.
Rebecca felt her heart sink deeper and deeper into her stomach, her pulsing organ slow and prominent. She could hear blood race through her ears, her mind simply registering what was happening. And as her brain processed the information, her muscles began to unfreeze. Rebecca carefully took a step back underneath a street lamp, the light dimly flickering in and out. The wind swept her ponytail around, the breeze brushing strings of her brown hair in her face, curling in front of her cheek before dropping by her collarbone.
As she moved backwards, the men moved forwards.
"Maybe that could be us?"
"We could show her how to have a good time."
"A real good time."
Rebecca noticed that as she moved, she left the safe light of the streetlamp. And then, the men walked into the light.
She saw them.
Three men stood before her, each varying in their attire. The first, all the way to the left, wore a stained sky blue shirt, opened to his chest. Some of the buttons were off, and it seemed as if there was a large red scratch on his body. His pants were black and nice, but had a few rips in it. The face of the man itself held bruises, a few missing teeth, and greasy black hair. The next, all the way to the right, had on a simply white beater, torn from the mid-section downwards to his bloodied khaki capris. His face too, held a shimmer of sweat and a black eye.
The final man, in the middle of the other two, was the worst. In his hand was a large flask of whisky. His face was completely destroyed; his nose was bloodied and broken, the red liquid dribbling onto the scraps of his t-shirt, he had many teeth missing, his hair was ragged and stuck to his forehead, his face was greasy and almost resembled plastic. His entire body reeked of bad body oder with a mixture of alcohol. It seemed as if the men had come from a bar fight of some sort, the man in the middle clearly the instigator and loser of the battle.
And when she saw the images, the clear distinct appearance of each individual man, her body screamed run. Rebecca gasped, her eyes growing wide as she turned on her heels, sprinting away as fast as her legs could. What was more, was that as soon as she did, the men began after her.
"Come back, girl!" One of them shouted. Rebecca could mentally imagine them spewing their own saliva as they screamed that. Her eyes shut tightly, shaking off the creeping feeling chilling her.
Rebecca did not look behind her, nor did she dare take her eyes off the road ahead of her. She had a place to go, still. Once in the restaurant, these drunkards couldn't hurt her... right? It was a place of safety.
But then, she felt a hand tightly grip her pony tail, and then, another hand violently grab her arm. Suddenly, her body was yanked backwards and into one of the men's grip. Rebecca couldn't help but screamed,"LET GO."
The three men chuckled simultaneous, their laughter sounding like drums that signaled the end. Rebecca struggled in the man's grasp, her teeth gritting as she fought to get away.
"Fiesty. I like her."
"I wonder how she'll fight later."
"I like them like this when I fuck them."
"You're all disgusting pieces of shit!" Rebecca roared, fire in her body as she thrashed against the man's hold.
The men laughed aloud, pulling at Rebecca's arms and body in violent motions. One was grabbing her waist, the other holding her arms and pulling her hair. Rebecca winced at the feelings of horror wash through her, the physical torment making it ever more real.
She needed to get out of here.
She needed to escape or else...
Oh god.
Rebecca let out another scream as she smelt beer in their breath, their stench infiltrating Rebecca's nostrils. She wanted to gag from the putrid smell, but moreso by the way they were touching her.
She could just kick them and run away, but they were fast for a bunch of drunk men. She could... fight back for real. Rebecca could whip out her secret abilities and fend off these men in a heartbeat. But, she never would use her powers against humans, let alone humans who were completely intoxicated. In some ways, that could be just as wrong.
The men then began to move Rebecca, dragging her body under arms into a secluded alleyway. There was a dumpster, several rats, and the buildings boarding it were red brick, even in the night. There was no light in this small pathway, only the darkness of the night. Rebecca stumbled backwards as she was pushed into the space, before she felt hands on her again.
Rebecca almost gagged at the disgusting, rotting sensation crawling up her veins. A light sweat, sparkling even in the midst of the night, broke out on her forehead.
What could she do?
She never stopped for a second struggling, just in case she saw an opening. Rebecca could handle one drunk man, but three? She wasn't weak! Why was she seeming so impossibly useless in the dark alley, secluded from any normality out on the streets.
The moon couldn't even aid her here, and she even felt blind now as she didn't know where the men were holding her. She was trying to numb the feeling of their hands on her to make the experience of the attack.
But, when she felt one of the grubby hands tightly grasp her breast, Rebecca roared. Rage welled up within her and caused her free one of her arms. With it, it launched it at the man who touched her in such a way. Her punch landed square in his face, throwing him back to hit the opposite end of the wall. "Bitch!" She heard him yelp as his head smacked against the brick.
The other two men reacted, pushing Rebecca up against the opposite wall by the arms, growling curses and dirty things. Rebecca felt the spit in her face as they spoke,"Trying to fight?"
"John, she got you good!"
John, the one Rebecca had punched, groaned as he stood up. Rebecca felt on her fist a sticky substance, and she automatically assumed he was the man with the bloody nose. John was their leader!
"No whore got me good," John belowed, slowing coming to a stand. He used the wall to bring him upwards.
John staggered forward to Rebecca's body, his grimey hands roughly grasping her waist. "And the whore who thinks she can s'gotta pay!"
Rebecca turned her face flat against the brick, moving away from John's face that was now intruding her personal space. She sucked in a tight breath, smelling him drenched in whisky.
But, she felt a fat finger coarsely grab her chin and forced her face to turn towards John. She didn't have to see him to know the snotty, saliva-fuming attributes of the drunken man. Her eyes squeezed shut when she felt his lips crash down onto hers with a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, something happened.
A memory. A horrible, horrible memory.
... She felt his lips graze her cheek. Her eyes opened, her breath heavy, and finally, she stared into the eyes of Loki. They were emerald, deep, and interlocked with hers. His gaze flicked down to her lips and back up to eyes before his mouth crashed into hers. Rebecca tried to protest, keeping her lips as tightly together as possible. But, Loki then pulled at her hair to cause her to scream. When her had lips parted, he dove into her mouth with his skillful tongue. He let his tongue roam her mouth, feeling her displeasure and hatred as she fought against him.
He felt Rebecca retort as her body physically tried to push him away. He couldn't help but grin in satisfaction at her tears.
And with that memory, that unparalleled moment of weakness, disappointment, and horror haunting her every day life, started to enrage her. Rebecca wasn't weak, she never was. She wasn't a failure, nor someone who deserved to be oppressed and dominated after all she's been through. She wouldn't do it- she'd rather die. She rather face death in lue of losing her pride, personality, dignity, self respect. Rebecca was not a damsel. She was; however, furious.
Her blood heated, boiling within her and causing everything to burst into flames. She felt the embers race through her blood, making her skin hot to the touch, as if hell's fire was exploding out of her pores and molting. She was not weak. She was rage.
She was fury, wrath, horror, and death. She wanted blood. No one touched her like that. Never again. Never.
When her eyes flashed opened, they were glowing a vibrant, electric blue. She could see everything in the dark, now. The intention of her gaze; however, was filled of red. Rebecca only saw red, the hot seeping rage blinding her vision and darkening the world around her even more so than before. Rebecca slammed her left hand against the brick wall behind her, and then, the brick wall below where she hit extended outward and knocked back one of the men holding her.
He collapsed to the ground, and in response, the other two men jumped back.
"The fuck was that!" John roared, watching the b wall suddenly return to normal when before, brick was protruding out of the surface. The two standing men stood by one another, holding onto each other's shoulder for support as they drunkenly tried to keep their balance.
But, their eyes widened when they saw a bright blue light coming from the girl. Her hues were now shimmering in the darkness, showing her location in the alley, but it did not leave her weak. In fact, her body was transforming. Slowly, the midgardian clothes she wore vanished and was instantly replaced with her battle gear. Rebecca knew she'd thank Tony for this one day as her body was now prepared to actually fight for itself. She was ready to defend her honor, her dignity, her life. But there was a problem.
Rebecca still could only see anger. Anger, as a living object that created hate. She saw her anger within each of the three men, and each and every one of them, she hated with a burning passion that she'd never felt before.
She wanted to slit their throats and gorge out their eyes. She wanted to twist their slimy organs out of their stomachs and shred it into thousands of tiny bits of flesh. Rebecca wanted to slam her hand deep into their chest and tear out their beating hearts, watching their bodies drop to the floor lifeless as she did. Rebecca was seeing rage, and blood seemed to be the only cure for her madness.
Her entire body was livid with energy that was shooting through her body and making her tremble as a result. Her breath was deep, calm, but was controlled in comparison to her pounding heart. Her hands balled into tight fists, as she bent down and placed her hands on the ground. As she did, the concrete shot up underneath the man that was not John, but the other that had not been already knocked to the floor. The ground was in sharp spikes, pointed and jagged and shooting through the calf of the man.
She heard him scream a horrible cry, for now in his leg was pierced giant shard of the ground beneath him. Rebecca could see the blood spilling out of the wound as yelled in agony. She could only grin, the smile menacing and unlike herself. She felt almost... dark, like the darkness that was welling up within her was apart of who she was. She enjoyed feeling such power in this sudden change of heart.
Was this part of her always there, just locked away in the far depths of her mind? Was Rebecca always this... evil? She felt almost comforted by the vengeful nature she now possessed. It made her feel powerful, in control, like she would not lose herself in fight. Rebecca strangely enjoyed the feeling as she stood there, her hands balled into tight fists that her knuckles bled white.
Rebecca was repulsed by the groaning men on the floor, unaware of what had hit them. She watched them squirm at her strength, and she knew that once they figured out the reality of their unlucky choice to pursue Rebecca, they would regret it. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't even live to regret it.
"How dare you," She hissed, her eyes bright blue and yet filled with such cruelty,"How dare you think I am some shit you can do this to."
And then, it was clear she was out of her mind. Rebecca gasped for air, heaving as she felt herself seethe with outrage. Her eyes flashed to the men as they slowly stood up from the ground, each holding a different part of their aching body.
"What the fuck?" One of them said aloud, their voice clearly confused and filled of anxiety. "What is going on?"
The disoriented men somehow hobbled over to one another in the darkness of night, grasping one another by the shoulders and finding unrealistic comfort in it. Rebecca knew they weren't safe if they stood as a pack. They weren't going to be safe ever again.
"You tell me," Rebecca snorted, crossing her arms across her chest, flicking her hair behind her shoulder,"You chose this path."
"We didn't chose shit!" One of them shouted, and Rebecca believed it was the one they called John, their leader.
"Oh, but you did," Rebecca growled, very much unlike herself. She glowered at the men, her gaze shifting from one to the next. Her foot then stepped forward, the sound of her heels clicking against the hard ground.
The tapping of her shoes almost sounded like the ticking of a clock, counting downwards as Rebecca stepped forward. Her steps were slow, taunting.
"We didn't!"
"Mike, we gotta get out of here!"
"Bobby, bobby. Calm down. This chick is just crazy."
It was silent then. The hum of the night seemed to seep into the alleyway, the only thing to hear was the steady breathing of the 3 men and the sound of an approaching woman. The footsteps stopped, the echoing of the last movement of Rebecca now gone.
"John... John what do we do."
Silence.
Heartbeat.
Silence.
Heartbeat.
Silence...
"Run," John whispered.
The men took a moment to register the command, before suddenly, their bodies jolted towards the exit of the alleyway. Their bodies, in all their drunkenness, moved down the pathway and bounded for the sidewalk. Their legs almost looked like rubber as they wobbled down the narrow alley, their gasps and gurgles from upchucking alcohol evident.
When the flickering light of the streetlamp finally came into view, the men screamed of joyous victory. Their pace picked up slightly, dashing towards the finish line.
It was anger unlike anything else. Rebecca loomed over the three men, running around like mice in a cage. It was interesting, seeing humanity's instincts when they had nothing else. It was pathetic to see them squirm as if they had a chance of living for the morning.
Rebecca couldn't help but chuckle darkly as she placed her palms on the floor. As she did, a large wall appeared where the entrance to the alleyway was, sealing off the only way to exit. They had no escape. They had nothing. Rebecca enjoyed watching one of them hobble with his injured leg. She did that. She scarred them... Not the other way around. She wasn't weak.
Rebecca hadn't moved her spot, but now, she saw a clear reason to move. The men were on a different side of the alley when they tried to run away. A small grin smacked across her lips as her heels began to once more, click against the floor.
"Oh my god!"
"She's coming!"
"We're going to die!"
The voices were faint. Distant. Rebecca was so far detached from reality that the words of the trio were as good as silence. Rebecca's shoes pounded on the floor, taunting, but never giving away her full location besides the fact she was closing in on her pray.
And then, a tear dripped down her cheek. A single, wet stream ran down her cold flesh and beaded off her chin, falling to the floor.
Another, from the other eye, appeared a twin of the first tear, sliding down her cheek. Rebecca's face; however, didn't change. It remained angered, cold, unwavering. It was as if her body was continuously betraying her.
Rebecca continued to march onwards, her hands balled into tight fists as she moved.
She would not, could not, be seen as insignificant, worthless, puny, distressed. She had a life and these men wished to reduce her to what she wasn't. Rebecca hated the fact that even for a moment, she put her guard down... She didn't want to be reduced to a worthless girl, sprawled across the sidewalk.
Not again.
Another tear dripped down her face, cascading down her cheek as her body began to tremor. The shivers ran up and down her body, amplifying the emotions that stormed through her every thought and motion. Her steps became slower, her feet dragging and becoming heavier as she approached the cornered men. They appeared as weak as mice, scrambling against the wall Rebecca had created moments ago.
Rebecca enjoyed watching them, but really, took pleasure in the fact that the men were no longer in control. Rebecca had power. But, was it power, or just a desperate attempt to regain what she never had?
Perhaps it was simply wounds reopened that caused this rage and the wet tears spilling out of her eyes.
Her feet stopped moving once she was close enough to the men. The wall beside her began to shift and form at Rebecca's will, the brick twisting and molting into an object of a sword. It shimmered as it made its way out of the wall itself and into Rebecca's now outstretched hand. Her fingers, once they felt the sword slide into her grip, clenched around the hilt tightly to secure it in her grasp.
"P-please don't hurt us!" John wailed, his back pressing up against the transmutated wall.
"We won't won't ever do it again!"
"Please, we're sorry!"
"Sorry?" Rebecca whispered, her voice light and somehow inflicted with pain. She licked her dry lips, snorting through her tears,"You're all liars."
"We aren't! We swear!"
And somehow, with those words, those lies, Rebecca couldn't take it. Within seconds, she found the blade of the sword deeply plunged into one man's leg. She didn't care to know their names- they were all dead to her now.
She heard him scream in agony as the silver metal torn through his flesh and broke through his bones. The blade sliced through the very core of his leg, resulting in blood spewing out of the wound and the man withering in pain. Rebecca felt tears slide down her face as she somehow laughed cruelly,"Lying!"
Her head shook back and fourth as she felt some of the flying blood splash across her pale complexion. She withdrew the blade from his leg, her eyes falling on the next two creatures squabbling in the corner. The two yelped, screaming as they pushed themselves up against the wall while their friend laid in his own blood.
Rebecca thought it was interesting how they thought they could just escape by backing themselves into the transmutated wall. She enjoyed... inflicting that sort of emotion within them- it was empowering. It made her in control of the situation, despite how her body trembled. The way she gripped her blade was weak, shaking. She found it hard to hold onto the weapon, but within seconds, she was plunging it into the arm of another of the men.
She twisted the blade in his skin, the muscles in his upper arm spazzing as the metal sliced through his flesh and split an artery deep within his arm. Rebecca grinned maliciously as she shuddered, removing the blade. As she did, she found more blood splattered across her body from her victims. They were withering in their own bodily fluids, their fingers covered in red as they clutched their bleeding injuries.
The final man left was John. Their leader. Rebecca hated with him. She seethed through her tears, her eyes narrowing.
The man was the epitome of what she hated about herself. He summarized all of the pain she's internally suffered since her first attack. When she was belittled, destroyed, cast out and beaten. Rebecca wanted this last blow to be straight through his heart.
She raised the blade, the tip landing right above his chest. Her breath was heavy, her body was livid and she was seeing red. All she saw was red. She felt so dark, so unlike herself. This wasn't her, was it?
But it was.
Right now, Rebecca was about to kill the man before her, until she heard,"Stop, Rebecca."
The girl gasped, glancing behind her shoulder to see two people. Two figures stood there in the alley. Somehow, the moon had shifted and reappeared directly above them. Her blade was glinting with a deep red, the liquid pooling all over the metal. Her face was splattered with her victim's blood, and in this sort of transformation, her aquamarine eyes were glowing in the moonlight.
She stared at the two men.
"Why should I?"
"Because," Bruce Banner began, his hands casually in his pocket. He looked up to his partner in crime, Thor, whose eyes were trained on the girl. Bruce then continued,"you don't really want to kill him."
"I do!" Rebecca barked, a fresh stream of wetness falling down her face. She wanted to. She wanted to end his life and let his conscious be filled with endless blackness. She wanted him dead more than anything because he... was giving her all she hated. He gave her weakness and failure.
"You don't. I know you think you want to, but you don't. That's not you," Bruce spoke, his voice softer,"And I don't want to be the one to tell you twice."
Thor stood silently beside Bruce as the second figure. Rebecca's chest collapsed, her breath heavy and deep,"It is. I am fighting for myself. I-"
"You what?" Bruce responded,"You want power? Power doesn't come with death."
His eyes were calm, his stance showing no malice or anger towards Rebecca. He knew what it was like to be overcome with rage without any way out. He knew it better than most. That is why he was talking. He would be the one to snap her out of this, if anything. Thor, if he had to, would be the physical restraint if it came to it. Both knew if the Hulk came out, it would end badly for all of them.
"Doesn't it?" Rebecca sneered, her nose crinkling as she did. She pressed the blade in harder into John, just breaking the skin. He screamed in response and Bruce's stance shifted,"You know, I thought that too for a while, until I looked into the eyes of the people I was viscously murdering for my own self pleasure. And I didn't have any control over it. You do."
Rebecca froze slightly, but didn't move.
"I thought I had no control. I thought I was a walking killer because I had no ability to direct my anger or abilities. And yet here I am, proof that power doesn't come with death. You really can control all of it."Bruce's attitude was so calm, as if he knew what Rebecca would do and knew it couldn't be avoided. All he could do was try and help her do the right thing.
Bruce took a step forward, his motions slow as if to not startle her,"Ask him about his family."
"What?" Rebecca responded, her voice low. Her brows furrowed as she retightened her grip on her blade.
"Ask him about his family," Bruce repeated,"and see if he is still someone you want to kill."
Rebecca flinched slightly, her footing thrown off at his phrase. She stepped backwards and slowly, turned her head to see the shivering man. He was so terrified, and she could now see his face illuminated by the moon's light.
"I hav-ve my o-o-ld parents. They need me- I-I..." John stuttered, his entire body convulsing as he spoke.
Rebecca didn't move. This was Bruce's plan. He'd make her feel guilty about killing someone. He'd show her the victim's story, the innocent's side that often went unnoticed when it came to murder. And in that, Bruce knew he'd find the last bit of Rebecca's humanity. He'd bring back the Rebecca he knew.
The doctor walked forward another pace,"If he dies, his parents will have no one."
Rebecca stood still, her eyes on John. She did not move.
Bruce sighed,"But, if you think it is alright to kill him, then go ahead."
"What?" John screamed, pushing himself back up against the wall. Rebecca, again, did not move. She didn't even blink. She was staring at John hard, but her gaze was detached. She was looking at him, but her mind was somewhere else.
"You already injured his friends," Bruce explained, frowning,"And if they don't get help they can die from blood loss or infection. So, why not another?"
Bruce's tone was blunt, stating the truth of what would happen if Rebecca did, in fact, kill one of these men. What would be the difference? They were just ants on the ground, ready to be squished. Or at least, that is the mentality of those who truly have the ability to kill another. Could Rebecca?
A shiver ran down her spine, her bottom lip trembling as her right foot slowly stepped backwards. And as one foot moved, the next followed. Carefully, her legs were backing up away from the John, her sword never falling. Rebecca's face began to twitch, the tears rapidly streaming from her eyes as her nose scrunched. A sneer wiped across her upper lip, as if she were snarling to keep whatever last bit of strength she had.
Bruce watched her, and when Rebecca came close enough, he glanced back to Thor and nodded. Within seconds, Thor used his hammer to smash the transmuatated wall that Rebecca had used as a trap. Thor figured that it would be enough for their leader to run away and get his friends help.
The Norse God then turned around, his red cape whipping behind him. His gaze focused on the girl, still standing with her sword pointed in the direction of the fleeting leader, John. John ran away as soon as the wall disappeared, stumbling off into the night as his two friends laid there unconscious.
Rebecca never felt more lost.
She never felt as if something else would completely consume her thoughts and destroy everything she ever thought was right. She never felt her mind switch its moralities, beliefs, and even... die in some way. Rebecca didn't know what she was to think anymore, as if her own personality was misplaced in some odd fashion and all that was left was this. Anger. Rage. Despair.
Was she actually going to kill those men if Bruce and Thor didn't stop her? The scary thought is that she probably could have. Rebecca could have very well ended the life of a person and the fact of the matter is, she didn't know how she possessed such a darkness. She was dying in her own mind- her remaining humanity was chipping away at her sanity. Who was she?
Rebecca's knees began to give out as her body sank to the floor. Her skin was slicked over with a glistening sweat, the color very pale and her entire body consistently vibrated. When her body finally rested on the floor, Rebecca glanced down to the blade in front of her. Her face morphed again into horror as she saw the red blood stains, marks of the crimes and atrocities she had just bestowed upon three civilians.
The realization seemed to hit her as the moonlight, now overhead, reflected in the blade and it shimmered ruby. Rebecca gasped, her grip on the sword lost as it clanked onto the ground. Slowly, her shaking palms turned upwards, the blood not her own. Another onslaught of tears ran down her face as she inwardly shuddered, her head shaking back and fourth. Her brown hair began to stick to her face, the edges plastered to her cheeks.
It was then that Rebecca discovered the blood on her arms, splattered along her pale skin. She inhaled deeply, her breath shaking as she began to use her palms as a means to remove the red blood. Rebecca began to grit her teeth, the streams of water falling onto her arms as she began to rub her arms with the palms and wrists of her hands. Slowly, she tried to get off the blood but her entire body was shaking too much for it to do any good.
Bruce and Thor stood side by side as they observed. Rebecca couldn't hear them. She was huddled over her own body, looking like an child waking up from the reality of her actions. It was as if she was in disbelief that the blood on her hands was from what she personally spilled.
Her innocence was removed.
Rebecca kept on trembling and kept on crying. Rebecca began to scratch at her skin when the rubbing didn't work. She continuously tried to remove the blood from her arms as she thought it would make the nightmare go away. It would make this moment a dream, not a reality.
"It never goes away." Bruce said, his face stern,"That blood will be there no matter how many times you scrape off your skin."
YAY. CHAPTER DONE.
So what do you think? What the hell happened to Rebecca? Write your ideas below!
I'm going to try and get these chapters out again on a more regular basis. Back to Loki next time we meet!
Please comment, favorite, and follow below!
