Old Steel Reference Library

OOC: What ridiculousness we've been saying! Why try to shorten our posts anyway? I don't mind reading in length if the story is this good.

BIC:
Fake grunted. This girl was fast. Yes, faster than he. And she was weak. Pitifully weak... almost comically weak, heart as frail as a daisy. Mind as soft as a feather... but feathers were flammable, and the man knew the flame had been fanned by his movements, by his torments, by his terror, by his and her rage. Rage was beautiful, rage was lethal. It was a tango with a heat sensitive bomb. She was the bomb, he the seductive dancer in lead. And the heat was rising, the music faster. The flame fanned, desire too indulgent a catalyst for a steady, elegant, practised decrescendo into the daring twist, spin, and dip to come.

And what better suspense to bate their breath than blackness?

“Ha, ha, ha ha, ha, ahee, ahoo, ha, ha, haaaa...” Kaiser droned, soaking in the darkness like a bather of the sun. The fun had truly begun. “A song, a song. This calls for a song.” An outcast, the hunter: myself. A wanderer, the hunted: Alyss. Such emanation of none other than the Phantom and his dear Christine. Yes, a man masked as a monster trying to win the at least the voice of the most beautiful madáme.” The pure and haunting, bass and––most often unexpected––beautiful sound came from Fake’s core, a talent that was family shared, but heard so rare, from the flamboyant actor’s brother, the serious and cold, Mr. Kaiser Adal Ehrlichmann. He began his song by using the tension in the atmosphere as a perfect standpoint for an enigmatic surprise.

“You have come here
in pursuit of
your deepest urge,
in pursuit of
that wish,
which till now
has been silent,
silent . . .”

Fake slid his polished black shoe across the floor and sliced through the air with his chainsaw in perfect synchronization, partners on the dance floor ‘til the pairing could trade off.

“I have brought you,
that our passions
may fuse and merge -
in your mind
you've already
succumbed to me
dropped all defenses
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts,
you've decided,
decided . . .”

"I need her to hear me out. I need Alyss to be the voice of mine which cannot be heard," Kaiser secretly confessed. "This girl––no, this woman, might be able to extract my fears and rid me of them. My Anna, my dear, sweet, Anna: she could have, if only I had known... if only I could take it back...”

“Past the point
of no return -
no backward glances:
our games of make believe
are at an end . . .
Past all thought
of "if" or "when" -
no use resisting:
abandon thought,
and let the dream
descend . . .

What raging fire
shall flood the soul?
What rich desire
unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction
lies before
us . . .?"

Kaiser was now at the door of the kitchen, easily led by Alyss’s panicked breaths to her ‘hiding place.’ His Anna still roared, only steady now, a careful crescendo, smooth yet aware, savoring the meal to come. He waited. The anticipation was agony, but he continued on.

“Past the point
of no return,
the final threshold -
what warm,
unspoken secrets
will we learn?
Beyond the point
of no return . . .”

The last notes spilled into a pool beneath both Fake and Fear’s feet, drizzling towards the shadowmancer’s weighted souls.

“You’re move, Alyss. I’m waiting.”

OOC: I'm sure you've heard "Past The Point of No Return," but in case you haven't, here's the link to the Andrew Lloyd Webber version from the 2004 film:
https://youtu.be/s50KtCL7pzk

(That first paragraph pretty much gave me a literature fit of happiness . Also Phantom FTW.)

Waiting with bated breath for his next move had proved fruitless. Taking into account the sheer animosity of his personality, she had anticipated attack - but no; the man had burst into song?! A laugh almost rose in her chest until she heard properly the melancholic chime moving up the hallway. It wasn't particularly the words that terrified her, though they in themselves provided enough basis for fear, but the tone of the music, how his voice flitted from bass to baritone to tenor with such ease, such dexterity, and the sound of the notes vibrating in his chest.

The voice of his departed lover still raged on in the background, howling a twisted, skewered version of the smooth melody her partner emitted. What was this? Did he expect to scare her out? Sure enough, she felt as if she was losing control but to scare the girl who was inhabited by the very essence of fear was no small means. But here, settled within the depths of night, his voice reverberating around her walls, she felt less than comfortable. This was the intrusion she had wished never to come; the bombardment of her solitude, her security, her home.

“Your move, Alyss. I’m waiting.”

The voice was so close now, only a few feet behind her. He was waiting? This was so out of the ordinary, so astray from the original profile she had made of him. Kaiser was imposing, broad-shouldered, bold. He should be at her throat like there was no tomorrow, but he was waiting? Perhaps drawing it out to increase the tension, playing a game. It certainly seemed like a game with the occurrence of song.

No. He would not play games with her. She was a federal agent, she was powerful, she was....totally alone in her house, running away from a chainsaw wielding psychopath. These thoughts began to boil her blood - this man was making fun of her weaknesses. No more.

Such was the thought that caused her to move so suddenly without plan. Pure, blistering rage erupted in her chest, releasing the furor she had tried so desperately to control. The woman moved fast, scrabbling to her feet and flourishing the blade in her hand. She gripped the handle firmly, the metal turned away from her body, prepared to lunge when she had the chance. With a turn she was face with the darkness of the hall, only judging her next move by the sound of his breathing. Praying for good luck, she thrust forwards, hoping that her aim was well calculated. But of course, in the dark, things are never so simple. The knife made contact with the hallway wall, jamming itself into the plasterboard of her home. Her aim wasn't far from his head, her arm was now outstretched across his chest, hand lying to the right of his ear where the knife now sat, stuck in the wall.

"Oh, no no no no!" she hissed, angrily, trying and failing to remove the blade. Quickly realising she had 'brought a knife to a gunfight', the agent pushed forwards on Kaiser's chest, sending him into the wall of the darkened hallway. "What do you want from me? Are you just here to kill me, Kaiser? If so, just do it already and get out!"

A tinge of desperation was evident in the tone of her voice, her emphasis dropping over the hated verb 'kill'. Anger was pushing her to limits she had never dared reach before, making her attempt to exert more force over her enemy than before by shoving his shoulders back again, slamming the man's head firmly into the wall.
"Listen, I'm not afraid of you, buddy. So answer my question or I'll get Fear out here quicksmart," she cried, the lies dripping from her mouth with little effort. The girl refused to heed his previous warning of punishment for lying, and continued with her venting of wrath. Furor was released within her chest now, Godless Strife and charmless Fear unearthed to gnash their bloodied jaws within her words. But the absence of weaponry still alarmed her- she stood no chance against this maniac without some sort of weapon. Then again, maybe she did have a weapon.

A though crept delicately into her head, provoking a smile at the utter deliciousness of her plan. Why not? It could only work in her benefit, if not well - she was dead already.
The girl licked her lips gently, tasting the familiar metallic tang of blood upon her tongue. Your move.

ooc: The long, long, long-delayed reply, here it is:

Fake had no intentions of holding himself back from this girl any longer, especially after she rammed his head against the wall. He was caught off guard by her sudden strength and gall––he would give her that––but it only made him more annoyed. He couldn’t believe she might think she stood a chance against him and a fight of fists and force. Then, immediately upon being imposed by such a fruitless threat that could only be seen as stupid mockery, he balled his fist and struck hard against Alyss’s face, aiming to either knock her unconscious or at least break her jaw and that smug smile along with it. God, it felt good to finally do that, to finally cut the crap and stop playing his childish games now he had gotten the information he needed. Kaiser’s mouth contorted into an ugly scowl as he wiped of the sweat from his forehead, advanced upon Alyss once more, and punched her again, this time knocking her to the ground. He hadn’t taken any moment to loosen up and prevent any possible fire-ceasing mindset despite his Anna’s pleas for mercy upon his prey’s soul.

“You’re disappointing, Alyss,” the beast snarled, towering over the girl who was now writing on the floor at his feet. Even through the darkness, his searing crimson orbs could be seen smoldering with complete loathing. Nevertheless, to prove the futility of sending her own house into darkness, Fake outstretched his free hand and began to manipulate the shadows to bleed into his palm like ink being soaked up my thirsty pale parchment. He only paused for a few seconds to drink in Alyss’s suffering whilst the darkness continued to clear from sight. Fake’s lust for blood was not still not satiated... it seemed to never be satiated when their was still blood at his fingertips to spill.

“I was a fool to think you as an equal when it was really... ‘Fear,’ was it––the one I was attracted to. Is she your demon, Alyss? Or are you her slave?” Fake continued in a now feverish drone; Anna’s screams were starting to drain the man’s power He had never felt such pounding, defiant force from the haunting spectre’s presence ever before, more so than when she breathed by his side, curled up in the bedsheets with her fingers tucked cautiously beneath the blankets although her heart wanted nothing more than to touch the young man’s grieving face as he watched over her with sweet and caring eyes, not at all afraid of the bloody colour in pools around his pupils. No––this was even more sinister than the power of ultimate control Anna had been cursed with, the power of which he feared beyond any mortal terror. Her begging, unending shrieks suspended and tortured Kaiser’s mind in such anguish and grief that he nearly failed to hear the approaching sirens of the force that literally held the deeps to his creation. Fake cursed himself for failing to realise that, by letting rage rule over reason, he had let his blood pressure and heart rate soar in excess beyond the high level at which the ankle monitor he wore with shame would send a honing signal to L.A.W.’s headquarters in Washington, D.C., as well as the task force stationed in Jump City that was specifically assigned to take care of “situations” such as the one emblazoning at Number 106, Orchard Street, East Side, Steel City. The crucial time to restrain their hound and drag his back into his kennel by any means necessary had come yet again. And although a familiar task, the looming and unnerving question of why Fake had been set off at a nineteen-year-old young woman’s house put them at nearly the same fever-pitch as the one whom they were to shoot down with tranquilizing guns, extremely pressurized doses of Ketamine packed into four-inch syringes, and, possibly, a straight-shot lead bullet.

But when the tiny alarm with red and green lights sewn into the flesh just above his ankle went off beneath his fine black slacks, Kaiser knew full-well what kind of trouble he had gotten himself into.

“AGHHHHH!” Fake roared as he threw his head back in hysteric frustration. I have only seconds now to make Fear extract the answers I seek. But how? How did she last invade my mind? I had only kissed her hand–– he froze: that was it. It may have been a messily-surmised assumption, but this theory was all Kaiser had to go off of in such desperate times. Suddenly, he dropped to Alyss’s side, skidded his chainsaw across the floorboards, grabbed the girl’s hands, and held on with all the might he could manage.

“Come on, Fear! Come steal my mind for all it’s worth, for your own whims and worldly desires if you so wish. Have me for your own––dive into everything you know you want to learn about and the unforgivable crimes I have on my conscience. Take over, Fear! Let your insanity taste my own!”

(Yay, shorter post!)

This time she went down without a fight, the two blows rattling her jaw and stomach, sending her flying into the skirting board on the opposite side of the cramped hall. The girl grunted as her back hit the wall, blood spewing from her mouth and down her chin in streams of metallic-tasting scarlet.

By God, she wanted to fight. Nothing more would please her now than to get up and take this bastard down with no more than her bare knuckles. But she couldn't move - the muscles in her legs refused to let her move an inch.

No more Alyss, no more. Fear whispered, her words wrapped in care rather than the usual hatred.

"P-please," she whimpered. The plea was not to Kaiser to stop but to her sister; for help. This fight had gone on long enough for Alyss, she was tired. Fear relented, shielding the agents rational mind for now, thrusting forwards with her own prerogatives.
Alyss's human body was so weak, so tired that it hurt Fear to move the limbs even the slightest inch, so as Kaiser dived and grabbed her hands upwards she let out an anguished cry. From the instant he touched her, her mind filled with pictures, sounds, smellls. Everything and anything that he had witnessed, performed - everything that he had become- ransacked her mind. This action was involuntary, the sense of touch was all it took for Fear to become susceptible. Alyss had further control over this power, whereas Fear took control of the shadows - it was the only bloody thing Alyss was good for, say for buying food.

Her ears barely registered his pleas, picking up only the ringing cry of an alarm coming from the man. The girl opened her eyes, glaring down at the source of the sound. Knock it off.

A spear of manifested power darted from her body and wrapped around her enemies ankle, smothering the sound, the signal, until nothing remained but the sounds of his angered imperatives and her own ragged breath. A bloodied smile broke out on her face as the images of Kaiser's life began to slow. Everything moved too quickly in the mind - memories were mere milliseconds. The reflection of her own face appeared in his mind then...nothing. Just darkness. That was it. She knew him. But why would he want that? He certainly flew off the handle the first time she had done it - that was the problem with her power, she could revive memories, not current thoughts. The consciousness was not her realm. Fear preyed in the shadows.

"Insanity?" she croaked, her throat still raw from tonight's previous excursions. "You want fucking insanity?!"

The girl's eyes darkened, shadows beginning to flicker around her hands. With an almighty push, Fear lurched the two metahumans over and rolled to face Kaiser. Now straddling his stomach, the girl raised a hand to lay a fist across his face.
"You start a fight at my only sanctuary, you ruin my house and your flaming broad won't stop yelling!" she spat in his face. "Alyss is my equal, she does not belong to me, I do not belong to her. We are two parts of the same person, clustered in the same rockin' body. And don't you dare insult her! She knows more of compassion and emotion than you or I will ever know. And that's all you want, isn't it Kaiser?! Just another chance to be free from this rage, this anger?"

The monster paused, swallowing deeply and grunting from the bruising around her neck. "And what makes you think I could give you that, huh? And even if I could, which I can, why should I? You have been nothing but a nuisance. I can rid you of your demons, hell, I am one. But y'know what? I'm tired, and I don't feel like it. Unless perhaps...."
Fear drew the side of her mouth upwards into a smirk and lowered her forehead to rest on Fake's. Fear was not Alyss, she didn't have access to the control centre in her rational mind. Right was wrong and wrong was right for this woman. Her mind lulled into a plot, to get rid of this man, revenge and wrath seeking repentance for her battered sister. But for now, lust would do. Sin was always necessary, but which one she chose rarely mattered to her.

"...you'd like to convince me otherwise?"

Leaning her head forward, she let the thick, crimson blood from her lips fuse the kiss she began to ignite.

“S-stop…”

The trepidatious supplication of her foe was such music to her ears, the wretched whimpering her favoured equivalent to a crescendo of dazzling timbres, the guttural stuttering her own Ninth Symphony. One corner of her mouth drew upwards into a carved smirk, relishing the convergence of their perpetually moving skin with a disconcerting sense of pride and arrogance. Their tantalising dance was nearing its critical peak, draining them of their energy as they moved fluidly to the beat of forthcoming sirens and the orchestral nonsense emitting from Kaiser’s deceased lover.

Though Alyss continued to screech at her from the back of her mind, Fear couldn’t stop her actions. She didn’t want to stop. There was something strange about this man, something she had noticed from the first time his presence became know to her and altogether something indecipherable. As her right hand wandered into upwards, her fingers clenching into his hair, the woman began to question herself, a rare occasion for the usually stoic and demented creature. He was just like her- in fact they were almost too similar for this to be real, but the consistent sensations trailing down her spine reminded her that fantasy this was not. She knew him inside out, knew his weaknesses…her weaknesses? It was true that she was a savage creature, forged purely from hatred and terror but this situation was causing her to lose control, control that she had worked so hard to maintain throughout her life. He seemed to be everywhere; clouding her vision, invading her rationality, every sense seemed to be obstructed by him .

He was as much a weakness as she was. Every pore of her being that remained as Alyss was screaming at the contact of their bodies, desperately trying to wrench the control of their shared body from Fear’s grasp. But her sister would not relinquish her hold now - she had come too far to stop. Kaiser’s hand circled her waist, holding her close –‘ too close! ’ Alyss screamed – as her own mind spun from the taste of her own blood mixed in with their kiss. Their bodies toppled over from the force of one of them, who instigated the move remained unknown, but she soon found herself underneath the man with their skin still connected in a passionate embrace.

Now was the moment that Fear herself began to panic. This malignant desire was infecting her already strained logic, taunting her with promises and amorous endeavours that would force Alyss to repress her until she was nothing but a grain of insanity lurking within the depths of her mind. God, she hated him. Fear was a lonely creature; such connections were so rare for her that she had forgotten what it felt like to touch another being without a knife in her hand. Kaiser was a strange experience for her and- no. No. Nononono.
This was HER advantage, she had broken him, not the other way round. Yes, her blood was pulsing and her body covered in a sheen of nervous perspiration but surely she was still in control? Yes. Of course. An annoyed moan echoed through her mouth – she knew she was lying to herself.

Stop Fear. Please.

Her fingers gripped harder around the strands of hair that she held and reluctantly pulled him away from her kiss. The glare that left her eyes shot like bullets towards him, hoping to leave a mark of such fire that her rage would be recognised.
“This….” She began. The rest of the words refused to leave her mouth, only climbing as high as her oesophagus before dissipating into the ether. “I-“
The sirens that whirred around them grew closer, the main distraction to the otherwise intimate scene. Fear let out an loud, irritable sigh, holding up a hand to release her shadows. A thick bubble surrounded the pair, impenetrable to most forms, light included. Luckily the sound of the alarm was stifled and her brain could begin to function normally. Well, normal for her.

"You know you won't beat me," she hissed. Hell, her own tone betraying her. The words that left her lips quivered, like a child witnessing their first storm, shaking and crying out at the echoing laps of thunder. A hunger to both kill and caress the man mocked her, she could not have both and neither would be to her advantage; for once Fear was at a loss. The agent's sister managed one last threat, her voice still quaking in the dark. Though here lay a fraction of bitter resentment and casual anger towards Kaiser, the breaker of her self control.
"I detest you, in every form and sense. So don't even try to claw this back; I know you too well. And you're far too weak to even attempt a retreat."

With a snarl, Fear continued her vicious assault and lust driven self-indulgence, twisting his shirt collar in her fist and pulling him down to meet her. "I thought you'd be a challenge. It's disappointing for me Kaiser."

OOC: It's official: we're sexy.

BIC:
The break in their kiss that had broken Fake so, so easily also broke the intimate and and hypnotic, almost natural bond of love-so-deprived and love-so-forbidden. Kaiser was a murdered, for God’s sake, not a lover! He had already slaughtered nearly twenty people, most, given, while serving the under the German military, but horrifically enough, the death toll which followed of virtually innocent humans wasn’t far behind in numbers; six men, two women, one child, a young, pure, teenage girl... a victim... of “love.”

“Anna,” Fake moaned as Fear groped his dark locks. He licked her blood from his lips and gorged himself on even just those few precious rubies that taunted his dry tongue and trickled down his parched throat, The tantalising sensation of such dreadful pleasure made Kaiser’s body weak and his normally sharp, pristine mind start to blur. It was wrong... it was right... Anna was dead anyhow, and Fear was more alive than Kaiser had ever been or could ever be. But she was far too in control, and thought his desire for her screamed louder than the trilling monitor he wore, Fake’s own demands for the upper hand trumped those secular fancies.

Subtly, he smiled when he saw the battling doubt quiver in Fear’s eyes––a contradiction to her actions as she pulled him closer that earned his appreciation for a lost and confused lamb amongst the newly sure and revitalised wolf. “But if you detest me, young fräulein, why have you not retrieved your bullets or drawn your blade? Fake asked in a prickly soft, sweet tone like nectar poured over a bed of poison-tipped daggers. “You may know me––my secrets, my deadly sins, even my brother and my sweet Anna––but what you lack, dear girl, is the knowledge and consciousness that it was you whom brought me to your home. It was you whom provoked the beast in me whilst in your blessed sanctuary then indulged that beast with displays of your own desire. You dared me if I would like to convince you otherwise, but now I am beginning to wonder if you were trying to convince yourself.” Kaiser sank with Fear’s grasp as he ran his fingers through her hair and stared with lonely coldness and isolation. “You’re so beautiful, Fear, so why do you dwell in the shadows...” he paused and bent closer to her lips, hovered, then pulled back from the temptation with a towering wall of blank solitude to mask his despair. He lost the grace in his desirous touch, even as he found his finger caressing the side of Fear’s face, “...where darkness steals any light for itself?”

The words made their owner recoil further from Fear’s presence, made the man fade and the monster reemerge and madness revert to insanity. But he let his tamer still pull on his collar even as it dug into his neck. He showed no pain, he showed no weakness even now on the brink of looming bereavement; that was a luxury of which only the likes of men could cower in: the fools who let the fear of the inevitable dictate their failures and shortcomings. But, however present, pain was not any opposition for Kaiser. It was as if every bit of pain Fake ever-so-generously dealt to those that lay in his path, the sufferings he reaped from his victim desensitised he, himself, to any such pain given in return.

Fake needn’t show any weakness.
...for, within his view and in his grasp, it lay in front of him already:
She. The Fear in everything that was Fake.

(Towards the end of this post it's more like a stream of consciousness from Fear, so whilst it appears disjointed and whatnot- just read it in her voice!)


..."I am beginning to wonder if you were trying to convince yourself."

The words he uttered were devastating to Fear. Deep down she knew they were truth; of course this was all on her, Alyss had warned her away and begged her to stop her current blend of seduction and destruction but of course, she hadn't listened. Fear never listened. This was supposed to be an ordinary ass-kicking - splurges of violence mixed with raw hatred - but with the sudden freedom she had been allowed nothing seemed to be worth the fight anymore. Nothing seemed to matter. All she wanted now was to relent to her desires, just to see what would happened, just to see if she could tame the monsters that clung to them so tightly.

You get out of my way or, I swear to God, I will kill us.

Fear had never heard Alyss speak so forcefully or so loudly in the back of her head before, but the girl was so insistent about the separation of her body from Kaiser. His touch seared her skin, as if he were leaving a trail of burning wax in the wake of his fingers. Alyss detested the pain of their connection; whilst Fear revelled in the amorous torture.
For once her threats sounded solidly real. A stab of torment pulsed through the shadowmancer's frontal lobe, causing the active sister to grunt in pained irritation and pull her eyebrows tightly together to meet each other in an aggravated frown. She groaned, pushing the oppression backwards, forcing her sister into submission; such a fight between two halves of the same mind was draining, it physically took effort to take control. But Fear would not relent, she was too far gone for Alyss to spoil her fun. Bleak eyes watered and her chest heaved with effort, clenching her hands around Fake's forearms, fingernails tearing into his skin, leaving bloody half moons and she began to calm.

"I dwell nowhere," she whispered, wincing as Alyss elemental screeching into her ear began to reduce. "I own this place, this domain is mine, ain't no-one gonna' take that from me, especially not you." The emphasis on her final word was unspecified, the direction of the insult encompassing both Kaiser and her screaming sister. "You are nothing but a temptation of well-timed desire, nothing more. I'm not Anna, so don't expect me to be anything like her." Her enemy's hand brushed her cheek, running smoothly down the side of her jawbone - there, again was that remarkable sensation that she was so innocent to. This whole situation seemed perfect to her, apart from the lack of control that she so desperately sought after.
Control was what Fear lived and breathed for; as much as she loved chaos and causing a riot, she fought to keep herself in power and authority.
This man threatened to take that prized obsession from her, to reveal her for the infirm, compulsive creature that she really was, to disseminate her madness. What gave him the right? Why should she allow that? Her mind fell further into disarray, winding like a clockwork bomb, primed to explode; ticking, ticking, ticking. He was a desire she shouldn't be allowed. Ticking. It only meant destruction for her. Ticking. God, she wanted to tear off that stupid shirt. Tick. Fear couldn't take this anymore. Tick. There had to be a line. Tick. He'd crossed it. Boom.

"S-stop," the girl whimpered. He knew her weakness; that undying lust for ascendancy that both of her personalities craved. The man broke her without even a threat, merely planting an idea and letting her own terrible madness destroy all sense and reason in its path. "I-I always win."

For once, fury had failed her.

It didn't stop her hand stretching out to recover the fallen blade, though.

OOC: If i'm getting to awkward, just holler.

BIC:
“Nnngh, don’t do this to me...” Fake moaned above the flames scorching his hatred and the heat below that dared to melt the icy walls he had put up yet again. “I don’t... want you... to be Anna... you’ll just... get burned...” now there was a pain burrowing into the base of his skull like a barbed wire tick that made his patterned breathing shallow and sporadic. Every breath was the plunge of an assassin’s knife in his chest.

What is happening to me? Kaiser’s brain gasped. They... couldn’t... have shot me... yet... could they? Is this... all... L.A.W.’s... doing?

“I-I always win.”

Alyss McGee... F.B.I.... agent? Did... she set... me up? If this was just an act to make capturing him again easier for L.A.W., why did it seem so real? No... no. Fear... isn’t controllable. She’s real... I’m just... it’s just a failing... oxygenation to the brain. I need... I need air.

Now his body and mind were visibly failing as Fake’s hands ran sweaty, as did his bruised and beaten forehead. He looked down upon Fear. She seemed just as at loss as he felt. Kaiser bit his lip in agony and his eyes began to lull into the back of his head. to hide... I’ve got... to hide... from Fear’s threatening gaze as she dug her fingernails into his skin. So... good... the perfect... p-pain...

Fake’s mind was unwinding with every movement both he and Fear made. He loved it, that effect of asphyxiation, he loved the strain and puncture. He almost involuntarily grasped the hand that held his shirt––but with an ominously gentle strength, for some reason,––pushed it away, then intertwined his rough fingers with Fear’s, slowly brought them back to his shirt’s collar, and steadily guided Fear’s fingers across the perfectly crafted stitchings of his silk crimson shirt, up to the top button, and around the buttonhole to help her loosen it until it came undone. Another oxygen-deprived sigh, and Fake had guided Fear to the next button, undid it, then to the next, and the next until, finally, one the last few buttons at the base of his shirt remained untouched. Now, with his milky pale and smooth, hardened, perfectly toned chest and abdomen heaving in full view, Kaiser lowered himself and gently nudged his nose against Fear’s neck and caressed it more with subtle kisses.

“Is this... what you... wanted... F-Fear?” he wheezed. “Did... you want... to rip... out... my heart... or can... I convince you... to let... it.. beat.. against... yourssss...?”

Need... oxygen... Fake’s mind screamed, but he ignored it.

“I want... to love... you. P-please... l-let... me... love... Fear...”

(Good lord, how shall we keep such pair in a RPG?!)

Love was not a word Fear heard often, unless followed by 'to kill' or 'to feel blood on my hands'. Alyss wasn't particularly au fait with the term, having been betrayed twice by men she thought had loved her, both leaving her empty carcass behind to rot. Emotional destruction had caused her body to be festered by the dormant sister and soon Fear was able to perambulate, causing both havoc and control.

A delicate touch was it took, his lips on her neck, the smell of his cologne. Alyss detested people even touching her hand, so the place that Dorian had wrapped his hands around in an attempt to choke her made the girl feel physically nauseous. Memories of her previous enemy occupied the other personality, wrecking her all over again as her sister lost herself in the pleasurable sensations. Such confusion and conflict within the same mind caused a collapse and the personalities blended together for a moment, both immersed in their futile thoughts.

Bronzed skin met marble as she skimmed the tips of her fingers down his sides; her touch leaving trails of fire along his chest. This seemed like the right thing to do but it certainly wasn’t love on her part. More an exorcism of sins she had yet to let loose, a natural force that drove her to conquer this challenge. But, still something niggled at her, worming its way from the back of her mind to poison her lustful endeavour. No doubt this was Alyss’s doing, but the thought would not disappear – did her submission equal failure? There was no question about it – Fake had actually asked her to love him.
But they had fought so hard against each other that her acceptance of his offer seemed to put both of them at a loss.

And Fear was not one to admit defeat.

The pressure of a quick decision and the sudden realisation of her failing victory helped Alyss to finally push through Fear’s blockade, sending her own reasoning to the forefront of her mind and taking the reigns of her physical functions again. Under his touch the girl visibly stiffened, pushing her hands against his chest and forcibly removing his tantalising lips from her neck. Another wave of disgust rolled over the agent, damning herself for letting Fear conquer their mind – this would never have happened if she had charge. It was time for this dance to reach its climax.

“You’ve done some disgusting things,” she whispered, raking her fingernails down the pale skin. The dark claw marks rose immediately, leaving her tainted marks on the toned stomach as she retracted her hands to her sides. “And people like me put people like you behind bars.”

With a forceful push, the girl returned the couple from their closed off microcosm; they were no longer involved in the vehement pasodoble Fear and Fake partook in, but back to Alyss and Kaiser who were entangled in their own tango of violence. She was on her feet in a second, raising her foot to swiftly kick Kaiser in the stomach from his seated position.

“Hello again,” she shouted, bringing her foot up again, slamming it down upon his back and sending his torso to the floor with brutal, frantic force. “She told you; I’m not Anna, I’m not the kind of girl to be torn in half by a chainsaw. Fear was right about one thing only; I hate to lose. Anything.”

Stumbling backwards, the woman knelt to pick her blade from the ground and stood above the man, her fists visibly shaking with anger. This whole experience had relinquished the barrier she had created to control Fear and forget her past horrors; but here they were again, as if the devil was raging inside of her brain. The rape, the manifestation of Fear, the first time she killed, Dorian, the second kill, the third, the fourth, the twentieth……it was all back.

Because of him.

“Keep your disgusting, murderous hands off me.”

((... Behave. Behave. First and last warning.))

(........I just did. It's back to a fight again )

“Aaaaagh...” Fake choked when he felt the burning, clawing, betrayal ripping the canvas that he had so carelessly, so vulnerably open unto the girl beneath him. He should have expected it, but... Fear was just so, so powerful! Fake wanted her, and part of Kaiser wanted her, too. Fear and Alyss, Fake and Kaiser. The FBI agent undoubtedly had the most tangible of difference between she and her volatile, chaotic sister. But when Kaiser––who was Fake, too––met Fear, he couldn’t help but completely crumble beneath her beauty. And Kaiser... well, Kaiser had had enough of Alyss’s interferences with who he had fallen for. It was strange; Alyss had virtually saved him from the complete failure of his own cruel disposition. This next turn provoked the sensitive rift of which reminded Kaiser of who he was: a disgusting, murderous hound.

Yet... yet the twenty-one year old German man with smooth looks and an even smoother demeanour until he decided he was tired of the boring façade was proud of that title. He was a killing machine, and a bloody good one at that. Skilled with weapons, especially his chainsaw scythe of course, hard worker; he trained every day without fail and without falter, his motivation need not be specific; L.A.W.’s dirty work would be carried out without any question from their pawn. However, all his submission to the Legion of Americanized Weapons could be credited to their manipulative science and powerful machines. Machines didn’t always work, though. A trial-and-error process was continuously being conducted with the case of Agent 7, Kaiser Adal Ehrlichmann, Special Ops Division.

At the trial of the late Teen Titan Model Eleven, he had been sent to retrieve another long missed “project,” Silent Night, one of the few metahumans who survived the infamous torture chamber know only as “The Room,” but failed when the same Titan whose trial was taking place ghosted into the microchip at the center of Fake’s cerebral cortex and initially killed the plan.

On a strange, haphazard night, the shadowmancer had appeared in a residential neighborhood and killed a girlfriend and seriously maimed her boyfriend when they came moseying down the street––of which Kaiser had been watched listlessly from a brown-shingled rooftop until their arrival–simply because he was bored. That caused some irksome complaints at L.A.W., not to mention the cover-up story that had to be put into action.

Then there was his unending quest to kill his brother, of which a main event for that bit occurred in Titans Tower Central that led to yet more investigations into this “Fake character.” Another tedious list of precautionary measures had to be taken.

And so on, and so on, more deaths, more annoyances, more expensive innovations for control, et cetera, et cetera.

And now this. Another library had almost gone up in flames (construction for Jump City’s library had been underway for quite some time), SCPD had been up over their arms in hysterics at the Old Reference Library, reports of more “accidents” came flying in, and now, of all ungodly things to clean up, L.A.W.’s hound had gotten loose again, and was now quite passionately basking himself in more blood.

••••

“Jesus! Don’ this guy evah stop? Why we even keepin’ him if he’s such a bloody nuisance!? If I ‘ad a say, we’d sack ‘im fastah than––”

“You don’t have a ‘say.’ Try to focus on shooting the guy and not the girl, we’re ordered to hold fire until we can see both of them clearly. Trust me: I’d rather kill him, too. I’m always signed on without my consent to waste my expertise on him.”

••••

So complained two of the L.A.W. agents standing ready to fire in the threshold of Number 106, Orchard Street, East Side. They were clearly as tired of this battle’s length as Fake himself was. Well, in the respect that they weren’t the ones actually partaking in the battle, rather waiting for it to end.

Fake had successfully adverted his attention from the squad until now. That literal pain in his neck, the device that was shutting his respiratory system every time he exhaled, every time he moved, every time he spoke.

But he didn’t let that stop himself.

“...but Alyss, you want... to... kill... me, too... don’t you...?” Kaiser panted, too weakened to stand, yet a strong and twisted grin plastered his face. “So how... does... that make us... any... different, hm...? What... to do... with me now? I’m obviously... in no state... to... retaliate... your ridges... on... my chest... don’t lie. Kill me... then... will you? I’m... afraid... it won’t... be any... f-fun... whennnn... I’ve... lost... c-consciousnessss...”

He groaned with such bonds suffocating his lungs. A new sort of tranquilizer? They certainly haven’t tried this one before... he thought despairingly. I had just built myself an immunity to the last one! Don’t they ever stop?

“Do itttttt.... Alyssssss..... you know... you... w... w... want...”

With huge grunt, Fake collapsed to the floor, barely enough pulse left visible for the man to be still considered living. His crimson-hell eyes remained sickeningly void and exposed, though, as if to counteract the notion and make Fear know he’d be back for more.

And there was always a ‘more.’ Always another vow to gain retribution.

••••


The bullets came spewing like Fourth-of-July Fireworks as Fake's figure began dissipating the shadows around he and FBI Agent Alyss McGee.

“Do itttttt.... Alyssssss..... you know... you... w... w... want...”

From his last word the motion of the atmosphere began to change. The subtle coolness of his last breaths created a lulling calmness within the air, the final wheezing words finally giving her the opportunity to breathe. As the man's chest stilled into a painful tableaux, Alyss herself let out a comforting sigh, dropping the knife she held to the floor and turning away from the supposedly dying body upon the floor. For a moment there was a delightful peace within the room, a quiet instant that let her run her shaking hands through the strands of ivory hair and run filthy fingers over her bleeding face. She turned to look back at the body, but her gaze was immediately torn to the window from which she could see something moving. Squinting to avoid the glare of the lights, Alyss crept closer to the window, hearing the complaints of two men standing outside. Then again, a moment of near silence - only a short clicking noise filling the air. It was a sound she recognised...but what? A sudden panic spread over her as the realisation dawned upon her - it was the reloading of a rifle in the cool of the silent night.

Shortly afterwards, her home began to explode.

Gunfire shattered the windows around her, tearing through the glass and ricocheting around the kitchen. Smoking debris began to fall around her as the shots rang through the walls and destroyed the only sanctuary the girl had left in Steel City. She ducked immediately, covering her head with her arms and taking shelter behind her kitchen island. Her feet crunched into the glass that lay scattered on the floor, leaving various pieces ingrained into the soft skin of her soles. With a cry, she fell behind the counter, cradling her wounded foot in her hands. Bullets rained down around her, flitting amongst the saucepans and chinking into various pieces of cutlery; the situation seemed hopeless. Fortunately the bag she had discarded so frivolously earlier that night lay only inches away from her, a quick flick of her foot bringing it closer to her, finally giving her access to the weapon she needed s desperately.
With her hand clenched tightly around the gun, the agent manoeuvred around the unit and held her arms up in the air. Shakily, she stood upon her broken feet and though walking into the line of fire appeared to be without mind, there was method in her madness. These men were aimed towards Kaiser, not her - this had to be something to do with L.A.W - something to do with the shadowy organisation that oversaw Kaiser's killing sprees, so she doubted they were meaning to kill her.

Of course, when the bullet ripped through her shoulder she began to think otherwise. The agent let out a scream, gripping the bleeding flesh tightly to stem the crimson loss, but balancing herself enough to resist falling to the ground.

"Woah! Stop stop stop!" she shouted, firing her gun up into the air and beginning to limp carefully towards the two men, wincing at the pain that tore up her feet. "What hell do you think you're doing?!"

The gunfire had only subsided when Alyss had stepped into the open, into the line of fire, then moved across the sea of shattered glass and strange yellow bullets littering the floor. The bullets were perfectly round orbs about the size of a playing marble and had some sort of swirling lemon-coloured gas compacted in an opaque, sturdy shell. The objects looked so alien against the grand wooden floors, ornate decor, and the brilliantly bright pools and splatters of Fear and Fake’s mortality.

One of the two men, an average-sized bloke with barley-coloured hair, an untidy beard and mustache, and skin so rough and battered that it felt more like a wild boar’s hide than a human’s flesh. He looked like a mountain man, really, yet it was ever more so emphasized in contrast to the smart black uniform of slick cargo pants, structured combat boots––though subtle to recognize when compared to those of a marine soldier–– a short sleeved nylon shirt, and a mesh, bullet proof vest visibly equipped with with an array of weaponry; to pistols, a set of combat switchblades,a bludgeoning stick, handcuffs, and a strange row of white and purple darts clipped to the top left pocket of his vest. He also carried a gun that resembled a long rifle with a paint-balling barrel situated on a small stand at the end of of the gun’s base which overlapped about two inches past the very end tip. The barrel, accordingly, was filled with the same yelled bullets on the ground. It appeared that L.A.W. was not concerned about discretion... strange, taking into account their dark operations.

The man’s face showed absolutely no expression, though his odd British and American Western accent drone seemed to draw every outside emotion directly to his.

“Ah, we be only relievin’ that poor fellow off yah dehty little ‘ands, miss,” he said condescendingly, yet quickly became impressed when he started to scan Alyss’s grand house. “I can tell ya’ve met agent Fake up good an’ right, and I gotta say, I’m impressed. No one’s put of quite this much a fight in a very long time... I jus’ wondah now what ya could’ve possibly done to get ‘im this bloodeh mad... no pun intended, ha,” he then outstretched one of his bristly, large hands in a gesture of setting a baseline between the two more than of kindness or politeness. In fact, he was just trying to act diplomatic in the present until they could get hold of Fake. “Me name’s Topnotch. As ya might ‘ave been suspectin’, I’m with th’ Legion of Americanized Weapons, but most folk know us as th’ L.A.W. ...again, no cute theatrics intended. My padnah an’ me are undah odahs to escort that man dyin’ ovah there on yah floor out of ‘ere. I wouldn’t want to ‘ave to disobey those odahs, miss, so please step aside.”

He leaned in very, very closely to Alyss and showed his first expression of the night, which could have made a grown man cower and submit to any of Topnotch’s orders. A baleful, glowering frown attributed to a sudden, evil, and malignant aura that completely overthrew his previously perfect poker face. “An’ won’ be ‘avin any deviations from it, yah undahstand?”

OOC: Hee hee hee, Topnotch’s accent is completely a random whim I had while typing this. My spell check is having a meltdown. XD