REWRITTEN 7/29/16

The Takers

I cracked my eyes open slowly, peacefully, having slept through the night without anything trying to munch on my face, reveling in the amazing and unfamiliar feeling of soft blankets cocooning my body, and awed that I hadn't woken up at any point with the overpowering need to pee. I stretched luxuriously in the bed, burying my face in the pillow, then wiggled deeper into the dust-scented heaven. I vowed to not get up until I absolutely had to. I would only move if something was trying to kill me. Honestly, maybe not even then. I knew there was no way that Onyx was up yet; she was impossible to wake. I had time to relax.

Without warning, my blankets were ripped away, torn out from beneath my body, and I shrieked bloody blasphemy at my sudden transformation into an elven ice cube. I twisted around and sat up, the last, thinnest sheet tangled around my legs, so I could strangle and torture Onyx for her evil joke.

But it wasn't Onyx. She was still in the bed beside mine, her comforter puddled around her waist, looking as pissed off and confused as I felt.

I blinked and looked around. We had company, apparently. A group of about fifteen ripe smelling men and women stood in a semi-circle around our beds, smug, victorious expressions on their occasionally handsome faces. A few of them wore leather jackets and combat boots and dirty blue jeans, hats pulled down over their ears and fingerless gloves on their hands, but the rest were bundled up in dark parkas and snow pants.

Uh oh, it was the attack of the burnt marshmallows.

The heavily armed burnt marshmallows.

One of the men in leather – an ugly one, unfortunately, his sunburnt face squashed up beneath a bushy, horseshoe moustache – had a pistol aimed at my nose. To look at it, I would have to go cross-eyed, so I didn't bother watching the barrel. Instead, cool as a goddamn cucumber, I untwisted the sheet from around my legs and leaned back against the fluffy pillows with my hands laced behind my head. Onyx stared down another woman and her shotgun, death practically radiating off of her. Why the hell didn't she get her blankets torn off her? Fucking unfair.

"Can we help you?" Onyx asked, imbibing her voice with as much sass as possible.

Damn, she beat me to the punch on the sarcastic opening line. It was probably because I was cold and she wasn't.

I watched the three people in leather jackets, expecting one of them to step forward as the leader, but instead, a plump, burnt marshmallow pushed through the crowd to stand before us, mittened hands planted on padded hips.

A woman's face appeared when she shook the wide, fur-lined hood off. It was a thick face, framed by tangled blonde hair. She had red, frog-like lips, and her eyes were set close together above a hawkish nose that looked like it had been recently broken. Her eyes were gray and bloodshot, harder than they would have been in a normal world. "You're on our turf."

I took in a breath to reply, but Onyx jumped in, right on the gun. "We didn't see any signs."

I snapped my mouth shut, grumpy, shooting her angry, death threat, telepathic messages across the space between our beds, warning her to stop taking the words right out of me.

The messages got lost between the molecules in the air.

"This is our turf," Burnt Marshmallow Woman repeated as if that would make it more true, attempting to fold her arms across her chest. The puff in her parka interfered, and she only made it about halfway.

I wondered briefly what was for breakfast; my stomach was rumbling. Bacon sounded really good, crisp and fatty, maybe applewood smoked. "And who exactly are you?" I asked, examining my nails. There was a lot of dirt underneath them. It was actually kind of gross. Maybe I should paint them. That would be bad-fucking-ass.

Leather Jacket shoved his gun closer to my face, shaking it threateningly and almost taking out my eye. I cast a sarcastic glance at the ceiling, tempted to bat the pistol out of the way but not wanting to get shot. Getting shot seemed like it would hurt.

"We're the Takers," the woman barked proudly, and all her minions cheered, shaking fists and weapons in the air. "'Cause we take what we want, when we want!"

The group roared again, louder, and they were accompanied by the banging of undead fists on the gated windows and walls, moaning hungrily for burnt marshmallow people. I blinked slowly, trying to wrap my head around their slogan. "That's…wow, that's very creative. Very impressive. How did you come up with something as interesting and…unique as that?"

Burnt Marshmallow Women smiled smugly. "'Cause we just that smart and awesome."

Uh oh, someone please call the grammar police.

It was time to knock these humans down a few pegs. I sat up casually, my forehead pressed into the mouth of the gun as I locked eyes with Leather Jacket. I kicked off the last sheet, thrashing my legs violently until it slipped away and puddled to a heap on the floor. I prepped to knock the gun away and seize–!

Cold! Cold! Abort mission! Cold!

Cursing, I launched myself off the bed, snatching up the stolen comforter and slinging it over my shoulders as I crash landed painfully on my ass. I wrapped the thick blanket around myself and stood up, cocooned snugly against the winter air that had seeped in through the stones of the building.

Crisis averted, I regained awareness of my surroundings. Onyx was trying so hard to keep a snicker off her face, but the Takers – better known as the Burnt Marshmallow Club – were staring at me with a mixture of shock and anger on their faces. Every gun in the room was pointed my way.

"Cold," I explained.

"Are you stupid?" Leather Jacket demanded, waving his pistol at my head.

"Slightly," I replied truthfully.

"Watch where you're aiming that thing," Onyx told him, ignoring her guard and standing up from the bed, blankets discarded. Her face turned pale beneath her red hair when she realized just how fucking cold it was, and she quickly reclaimed her blue comforter and cloaked herself in it, penguin walking over to stand beside me in an ineffective two penguin huddle. Burnt Marshmallow Woman's face had turned cherry-red. We weren't following her storyline.

But she hadn't yet realized that there was no storyline.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Onyx said, sarcasm and voice muffled by the blanket over her mouth. "But bye. Come on, Enia."

We waddled away from the group towards the staircase that led up to the window we'd entered through, pretending that we didn't look as stupid as we did. Leather Jacket fired his gun at the ceiling, and a few of the Burnt Marshmallow Club squeaked with alarm. "Don't move!" he yelled.

The blanket kept me from waving cheekily as we continued to hobble away.

"I'm calling no balls," I said and poked a hand out of the warmth to open the door to the stairs.

"It's hard to be threatening when your voice cracks," Onyx told Leather Jacket.

"You guys are freaks," Burnt Marshmallow Woman sneered from behind us.

The door was open, the dark staircase waiting, but Onyx and I stopped and slowly turned to face the group. I almost tripped over the edge of my blanket, but I caught myself before I fell, looking only a little weird as I rocked to the side. "Excuse me?" Onyx asked as I tried to regain my balance and my dignity.

"Freaks," Burnt Marshmallow Woman spat, picking up speed. "You don't have weapons, you didn't set a watch when you slept, you're not even wary about guns pointed at your heads!"

"Most people would call that just plain stupid," Onyx pointed out.

"Or brave," I added, and Onyx gave me a look that said quite clearly, 'not really'. "Besides, how do you know we don't have people outside on watch?"

"We searched the area before we came in. We heard your caterwauling last night. We thought we'd investigate."

I was getting tired of being called a freak. I was getting tired of being judged. I was getting tired of having my every action picked apart. And I was tired of hiding.

"We don't need weapons," I said in a low, calm voice, tamping down a lid over the kindling embers of rage. I let the blanket drop to a heap on the floor, bracing for the shock of the cold so that it didn't show on my face. Onyx shot me a glance out of the corner of her eye, a question on her face, wondering what I was doing.

Hopefully, this wasn't a bad idea.

I pushed the sleeve of my leather jacket up my forearm and lifted my hand before my face, staring right at my palm. I looked up to make sure that each and every member of the Burnt Marshmallow Club had their eyes locked on me.

And then I set my hand on fire.

The flames jumped into life, and sparks danced from finger to finger as I wiggled them. Gasps reverberated around the room, timed to the widening of eyes. The Burnt Marshmallow Club took a collective step backwards.

The fire crept up my bare arm, dripping onto the cement floor and glowing for a moment before dying out. The heat washed across my cheekbones. Slowly, I brought my hand closer to my mouth and gently blew on my fingers, extinguishing the flames. The room dimmed noticeably, and I moved back until I was in line with Onyx. She handed me my blanket, and I draped it over my arm.

I bowed slightly, mockingly. "We'll be going now."

The Takers didn't bother protesting, though anger narrowed Burnt Marshmallow Woman's eyes, and she quivered in her coats.

Onyx went through the door first, and I followed, whistling as I slammed it shut behind us.

Enia: Wow, look, it's time for a new chapter! That's pretty exciting. Oh, and I actually have kind of a vague plot/direction I want to take this story. I know it just kind of meanders around all over the place, but that's kind of fun to me.

Anywho, please leave a review!