Sm_Monthly #6

Feb 06, 2007 15:20

Did he follow? Is it safe? Are they here?

Thoughts fly across her mind like scared hummingbirds, one after the other, too fast for her to understand. Flattening herself against the wall, she wills herself invisible, seeking shelter in the shadows of the alley.

Her breath comes in labored gasps she fruitlessly tries to control, and they echo in the narrow space like gunfire. Her computer clutched in her hand, she squeezes it until way past the breaking point, but it is magical, just like her, and it can stand more pressure than she could ever create. The sharp edges of a broken crate dig into her back, wooden teeth seeking the tender skin under her uniform.

She hears footsteps running in her direction, and tenses, preparing to defend herself… she should know better. Those who chase her, those who can catch her, do not make a sound. They can teleport through time and space, there in a blink, gone the next. True enough, the footsteps fade in the distance, leaving behind the empty silence of the night.

Why didn’t she listen? She should’ve have gone out tonight, not when They are around. But one of their shelters had been struck by the plague, a blight sent by Beryl herself to destroy those who oppose her. Once illness take root, there is little anyone can do to stop it, and the affected die screaming in pain. Her fingers curl into a fist, and she fights the urge to slam it against the wall. Pain-as if living in constant fear of discovery, of torture, wasn’t enough, they have to die suffering as well?

She can’t heal them, not when the blisters and sores are already multiplying on their bodies, but she can ease their pain a bit. And in this world of darkness and nightmares, a little hope goes a long way. So she left the safety of their headquarters, buried deep in the remains of the old city, and ventured into the night. Soon enough, she felt the tell-tale tingling that meant she was being followed by one of Them. It’s a blessing, that their powers call to each other for some reason-the warning has saved their lives countless of times before.

She has tried everything to loose her stalker, but he stubbornly remains on her shadow. She might even mean that literally, she muses darkly, remembering the last time Mars was trailed. She still has the scars of that battle, all the way down to her soul.

She doesn’t have anywhere else to go. She cannot return to their encampment; she would only be leading Him to it. Is she going to have to fight him? If she can’t outrun him, what other option does she have? The choice is taken away from her when a mocking voice calls out her name: “Are we stopping here, then? I was having such a fun time following you around.” Her heart skips a beat or two, and then makes out for it by fluttering uneasily inside her chest. Panic claws its way into her mind, and she looks up to find herself staring into a pair of clear, green eyes.

“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath as she watches him vault down from the emergency staircase about six floors up. It had to be Zoisite, didn’t it? He is the most sadistic Shitennou of all, and that maniacal glint on his pupils is more than metaphorical. He once leveled an entire block just because, and has been known to use his crystals for purposes too vile to name. She should know.

He lands about twenty feet away from her, his perfectly coiffed ponytail moving with such elegance, she knows he’s wasting magic to make it look that good. The fact that he would use his power for such a small thing speaks volumes of his level of insanity, and yet despite it all, she can’t help but admire his physique. He looks great, and he knows it-he even takes pleasure in flaunting it, she knows, remembering one nasty encounter between the two of them some years back. Mercury was no innocent by that time, but after their battle, she couldn’t really say whether she had ever been one at all.

It seems he is also remembering that particular clash of theirs, because his eyes predatorily run up and down her body. She feels unclean, but stops herself from trying to brush it away; the taint is nowhere water can reach. It runs deep, deeper than battle scars and injuries-she can still feel his hands on her, like ghosts flickering in the dark.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she tells him, and yet she falls back into a defensive position by instinct alone. Her reserves are nearly depleted; she healed one patient too many back at the shelter. And yet even at full power she would be no match for him, so what difference does it make?

He shrugs. “Doesn’t make a difference to me. I just like it better when they struggle, but if you want to come quietly, it works too.” Needless to say, Mercury knows that’s a lie. None of his victims have ever gone quietly-their screams can be heard for miles. But if she has any chance of getting out of this alive, she needs him distracted, she needs time, and because of that, she keeps on talking: “My friends will come for me.”

Zoisite laughs, and it sends shivers down her spine. So very insane, and completely aware of it to boot. Mercury thinks he rather enjoys his madness, the way a child enjoys a new toy. “Ami, please,” he uses her given name on purpose, knowing it brings back memories of the night he slaughtered her mother while she watched, helplessly bound inside a crystal prison just feet away, “they are busy elsewhere at the moment, and you know it. It’s just you and me tonight.”

She had hoped the flares of power she had felt earlier tonight were not what she thought they were. She should’ve known better. Before she can say anything else, though, he is upon her, moving faster than she can follow and harshly pressing her back against the wall. The broken crate pieces dig deep into her back, breaking through uniform and skin this time, and the heady scent of blood fills the air. Zoisite smiles, licking his lips barely inches from her: “I am so going to enjoy this…”

She struggles, bucks against him in desperation, but he is much stronger than he looks. The weight of him is overpowering, his hands holding hers over her head. Long fingers encircle her wrists effortlessly, and tears well in her eyes as she realizes she is not going to survive.

She doesn’t.

sm_monthly

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