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The arena Ro was having built was only half finished, a new project that the King had found necessary after the war. S’Heans had never been a war like race. They were more than capable, true, but their skills were more suited to that of Rangers. Patrollers that kept the deadlier beasts of S’Hea away from the general populace. Y’Roden was now focusing on turning their deadly talents towards a different purpose. Defence of their homeland, should the need ever arise again.
The suns were high in the sky, beating down mercilessly on the half-elf and his opponent, an unfortunate Ranger by the name of Ar’Tec. He would have preferred Fadil, but his best friend and Captain of the Guard was otherwise occupied. So it was, that Ar’Tec was taking the beating of his life on the hot sands, a rather wide eyed look on his face as he fended off His Majesty. Y’Roden had been in a somewhat nasty mood since his three month disappearance and at the moment, the Elf was afraid for his life.
“Keep your guard up Ar’Tec,” Ro growled, “I nearly took your head off that time.”
“Aye… your Majesty, I had noticed that,” came the breathless reply.
"I hear good help is hard to find these days, your Majesty, one or both of you might want to be more careful." Callan chuckled from where he was leaning against the ring, his unseeing eyes tracking the sounds of the two males on the sands. "I see you found the Pit has its uses in S'Hea?"
Startled, Ar’Tec came to a complete halt, and was rewarded with the hilt of Y’Roden’s bastard sword in the middle of his forehead.
“I said keep your guard up,” Y’Roden snapped, “I could have killed you right then.” A massive hand closed around the Ranger’s shoulder as he wobbled and Ro snorted in disgust, “Go have that seen too.”
Turning around he eyed the Dragon Emperor with a half amused expression. “Aye, it definitely has its uses.” Going quiet for a moment the half-elf wiped his brow with the back of his wrist. “I take it you’ve come here for An’Thaya?” A shake of his head splattered sweat across the sand and he grunted slightly. “You know… I’m not quite sure what to think of all this. I mean, I’m not complaining about Galain being out of her life. I never did like the bastard. But… to have the woman eating Black Hearted Bastard of the Diirlathe abscond with one’s little sister… that… well, yeah.”
"I don't know what you're worried about," Callan straightened and began walking slowly across the sands, "I believe it was you, that mentioned something about my needing to learn manners at her hand?" His lazy drawl, still heavy from his recent time in the Diirlathe, was laced with many things, mirth being one of them, "I mean, hell. Look at her? She drove FIONNA to picking up a chair and smashing it on her. I think she can deal with little ol' me."
Y’Roden laughed softly, his dimples showing for a moment. “Well, An’Thaya has always had her own mind. I would never dream of telling her what to do. Gods, my life is full of terrifying women. So… has she taught you any manners? Somehow I doubt it. I’m wondering who broke whom in that situation, and at the same time? I really don’t want to know. All I care about is my sister’s happiness, and… if that means she is with you to find it… that is just fine with me.”
There was a heavy pause as the half-elf gathered his thoughts. “You… do love her right? I mean, usually, your love life is your business, obviously. But, Thaya is my little sister… and she has been through hell. This is all just a little startling, considering your history with her.”
Callan stopped, his caution prompting him to pause until he figured out exactly where everyone was here. Ar'tec had grown quiet, and while Callan hadn't heard him move...
A quiet intake of breath and a hissing release of that same breath later, Callan dropped to a squat and scooped up a handful of sand. It was far different than the way Sha'tris felt in his hands, the grains were different, the density, the texture, but before he could forget to answer, he angled his head up to face Y'Roden, his eyes though...they didn't quite meet those of his one time Captain.
"DO I love her?" One finger nudged at the grains as his attention went back to his palm, "How many women are you aware of that I allowed to live this long after making love to them?" He slowly turned his palm sideways and let the sand cascade out, "Make no mistake, if I didn't love her? Your sister or not, by now there wouldn't be enough left of her for you set out into your lake on a pyre."
The Ranger in question wasn’t quite listening, his head was ringing with the sounds of a thousand bells, and he was quietly attempting to find his way out of the arena without help.
Y’Roden’s chest expanded with a sigh of relief, and he nodded. “Right… stupid question, but you know I had to ask. I owe Thaya… gods, I owe her everything, you know? If not for her I’d still be singing Samara’s praises in Tenobrous.” His features twisted, the half-elf’s temper rising dangerously for a moment. “Gods… there were so many times that I wanted to break that traitorous Elen’s worthless neck,” he spat, “my sister deserved better… so much better.”
He went quiet again, “I’d say… that now she has found it. In the past few months, she has seemed more herself that I have seen her in a long time. That old spark is back.” Rubbing at his eyes Ro turned to look down the length of the arena, “Now if I could only do the same for Arianne.”
"What? Snap her neck?" Callan brushed his palms together as he rose to his full height, "Damn Ro...I didn't know you had it in you. And here I thought you wouldn't have the patience to play the game this long." A dark grin spread across his handsome face, "Oh...you meant about," His right hand made a waving, negligent gesture in the air, "the spark? Well, you might could have your cake and eat it too. I'd try snapping Linnis' neck, see if that didn't put some spring back in Thorn's stride. I know it would mine." Callan sniffed and 'peered' around the arena. "I'm guessing its nice...hard to tell really. It sounds nice, like there's a lot of room."
He nodded and then sucked at his teeth while one toe poked at the sands, "I understand Mira isn't exactly back to herself yet either." A flick of Rage coursed through him, "Yeah...snapping Linnis' neck would be the last thing I did. I can think of a lot of other...things...that would give me a great deal of satisfaction and, might I add, personal pleasure, that I could do to her. It was bad enough she took Muirne and the girls, and I don't give a gods damned flying rats ass about her excuses. She took my granyelda...she damn near got her killed...now this?"
Y’Roden choked on a laugh and just shook his head, well use to Callan’s sick sense of humour. Ignoring the initial comments he went a little hazy eyed for a moment. “I’ve thought about it… I can hear it in my imagination, the musical crack Linnis’ neck would make beneath my hands, and I can feel the bone break… a lovely little fantasy. I damn near knocked the bitch’s head off her shoulders back on Terra… twice. As stubborn as her Amil that one.”
He sighed and looked over his shoulder at the dragon, “You see, that is just it, why I can’t just kill her. She is Arianne’s flesh and blood; that makes her untouchable. Not because Thorn wants it that way, but because I can’t take the life of anyone who has my wife’s blood flowing through their veins.” He smiled, a dark, sinister sort of look that had made more than a few people’s blood run cold in the past, “Of course… that doesn’t mean I can’t make her life a living hell. Death is too quick an end for her anyway. Something slow and torturous is better… and just what I do best.”
The air in the dark alley seemed to swirl and eddies of an unnatural wind kicked up curls of dust and grit, discarded newspaper inserts and thrown-away straws, drink lids, and all the loose, light-weight refuse of Human civilization. Seconds later, shadows seemed to slump in on themselves as the air itself whorled open and two men, one almost as massive as the other, stepped through into the Terran afternoon.
"Ah. Tornonto." Callan nodded knowingly, "nice city."
Y’Roden turned his head to stare at the blind Emperor, his face a mask that didn’t betray his amusement. “That would be… TorONto,” the S’Hean King corrected, “and I think An’Thaya would disagree with you on that one. She hates this place.” The half-elf rolled his shoulders and pulled his duster jacket closed, “speaking of which, let’s get this over with. If we are gone for another few months… Thorn and Thaya will both kill me.”
Callan blinked slowly and turned his head in the direction of Ro's baritone, "That's what I said, Tornonto..." A faint trace of a grin caused the fine lines at the outer corners of his eyes from a lifetime of exposure to the sun to crinkle a little.
"Soooo, I just gave away that I've never been here, ever, didn't I?" Callan chuckled, albeit a bit sheepishly, and followed the scent of fresh air and the increasing warmth as they walked to the mouth of the alley, "But if its like any city on Terran..."
The Emperor's words were cut off with, "HEY! WATCH IT JACK ASS!"...he'd stepped out into the bright light of day and right into the path of a roller skating man with a boom-box on his shoulder.
"Gods dammit..." Callan's blue jean clad form stumbled back, "Watch it yourself, moron!" The traditional one-finger salute was imparted from Callan's large hand, and his head turned to Y'Roden, "Yep. Just like any other city on Terran."
"Now. Where and HOW the hell do we find Fionna and Linnis?"
“Well,” Y’Roden drawled, suppressing his amusement, “if I were Linnis… which by the grace of the Gods… I am not. At the moment, I would be getting falling down drunk in the nearest tavern. So… we find a local and ask them where the closet bar to the Lincoln Asylum is. As for Fionna… if she still has the ring I gave her, it should be easy enough to track her… I should think.”
"Closet bar, huh?" Callan muttered tilted his head, listening to the sound of traffic and the noise of Terran humanity, "Closet bars are hard to find, you know. That's why they're in closets..." The Emperor paused and snapped his eyes to Y'Roden, "You mean closest, right, cause, otherwise, that doesn't make a damn bit of sense."
Callan's hand shot out, snagging a passer-by, who happened to be a foot-patrolman, "Where's the closest bar to Lincoln Asylum? We've got a friend that's recently been released from the nut-house, and you know those rehab programs, always letting the alkies out early due to overcrowding."
Y’Roden barely restrained himself from smacking Callan up the back of the head, and smiled winningly for the patrolman.
“Hey,” the cop paused and looked from one man to another, “Aren’t you… are you in town for the film convention? It isn’t Matt you are looking for is it? I thought it was you with the alcohol problem.”
“Uhm… I think you have us confused with someone else,” the S’Hean King murmured, “that happens a lot. Now… about that bar?”
“Oh… right. Well, the closest bar is the Bottoms Up Cabaret… or the Foxxes Den. They are over on Queen St. East.”
Callan had been midway though, "Matt? Matt? Ooohhh, you think...No...no I'm more into gambling and hookers at my trailer than..." The Emperor brushed the cop's uniform off politely, then looked at Y'Roden, "Gods dammit...those HAVE to be tiddie bars, and I'm blind...of course, this time of day, I'm sure they don't have their star girls dancing. I may not be missing anything. I'm going to trust you to be my eyes though...can you do that?"
His attention shifted back to the officer again, "Thank you, you've been a great help..." Callan punched the cop affectionately on the shoulder, "Now get out there and protect and serve...or...well. That's what New York cops do. You get out there and just...serve."
It wasn't like Canada had a great deal of hardened criminals after all. It was CANADA for gods sakes...
“Anything for a blind friend,” Ro said solemnly, “It’s the least I can do… really.” He nodded to the cop, “Thank you officer. Oh… look, a Cab.” Stepping past Callan he flagged the vehicle down and opened the door for the Emperor, “Let’s go look at some ti… I mean… lets go find Linnis.”
"Absolutely...and so what if we have to interrogate witnesses and possibly examine them up close and personal? I mean, its all part of the search, right?"
Callan suddenly felt a handful of black t-shirt yoinked and was jerked into the cab. The top of his head cracked on the edge of the door before he landed with a ooofff in the taxi, "Thanks...pal. I know you're just trying to jar my eyes back into seeing again, but...that...ow." Calloused fingers scrubbed at his scalp, "Hey...cabbie...take us to the Bottoms Up...over by the asylum."
"Oooh, out for one good fling 'efore checkin' in, mon?" The cabbie spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent, "Sure thing..." A squeal of tires later, and the cab tore off. Callan wondered belatedly if Y'Roden understood what cab fare was...the Emperor was saving his money for the bar.
The low throb of music pulsed and pounded, it could be felt as much as heard just outside the building. Callan's blind eyes were straining...gods...why? WHY? Did Galain have to go and use balefire?
"Why couldn't he have waited until AFTER this was over to blind me?" Callan rumbled and he and Y'Roden walked through the doors, "I mean, do you have any idea, how hard it is, to not see Thaya naked? I have to feel around..." Callan heard a sharp intake of breath and the Emperor ran right into one stock-still Y'Roden, his body stiffened, "Uh... yeah. Sister...sorry... Anyway...I really think sight could be a valuable sensory tool in this search..." Callan paused, "D'Riel?" he listened, sniffed cautiously, then a slow, evil smile slid into place.
There were too many women here...and only a handful of men, if his nose served him right. A fragrant rush of air went by, a waiter...the smile grew wider and more wicked.
"Soooo...ahem." He cleared his throat, "Let's find a chair near the stage. We might need to make certain Linnis isn't posing as a male stripper, after all...and, of course there's only one way to be certain she's not in a clever disguise..."
Callan had noooo problems feeling up a handsome rock of a man during an interrogation...none whatsoever...
"OOH! You made it! Our guest strippers for the Hot, Groovin' Sixties Club!"
Callan's eyes shifted suspiciously to the side, tracking the enthusiastic, if effeminate, male's voice, "Groovin what?"
"We reserve the afternoons on Wednesday for a local group of wealthy ladies..." The man spoke like everyone knew this, and like Callan and Y'Roden were airheads or male supermodels...which...meant they'd be airheads, "Ladies that are...60 or better. Some are even in their late 80's. We just never expected...well. Gentlemen, YOU two should bring down the house in contributions. Do either of you have objections to the Lone Ranger and Tanto outfits? I think they'll look fabulous on you..."
Y’Roden’s jaw seemed to be permanently affixed to the floor, the shock so great he forgot to protest as the fellow started herding them towards the changing room. He did manage a panicked look at Callan, but it didn’t help him much considering the other was blind as a bat.
Ok, so twenty years ago, Ro would have been all for playing dress up, followed by a bit of bump and grind. Ok… a lot of bump and grind, but he was a married Elf now and the only thought screaming through his mind was something along the lines of ‘Thorn is going to kill me’.
As the door slammed behind them, Ro clutched the cowboy hat to his chest and glared at Callan.
“I am NEVER going anywhere with you ever again.”
"Awww...does that mean I'll never get to wear my "I'm With Stupid t-shirt ever again?" Callan grinned insanely and popped the headband with a brightly coloured feather in it on his head, "And why is it, you didn't find it too funny, me regaling that guy with the story of you putting me a leather harness and making me pull on your main mast once?"
His fingers were fumbling with the buckskin shirt adorned with beads and fringe...and was held at the seams with velcro, "Maaannn there's just something about leather and..." Callan paused as the door swung open and the last couple of dancers walked in, their bodies covered in sweat, "You know Ro, MOST of these guys are gay, male strippers...I hear they stuff their pouches with a prosthesis to make it look that large. I don't think I'll have that problem, how about you?"
It was about that time a man who looked very much like Fabio smiled and winked at Y'Roden.
“I thought that guy said Lone Ranger,” Ro muttered, slightly baffled, “the labels on this say Long Stranger.” He looked up at Callan and pointed one of the prop guns at his head, “Look buddy, don’t push me, Iiiiiii’m the one with the guns.” He pulled the trigger, and a flag that said BANG bopped Callan between the eyes.
There was a bit of shuffling about as he started changing, “I only have one question… what the hell is the ring for?” There was a pause as the Fabio look a like walked by displaying its proper use, “Well… whadda ya know.” The half-elf held up the ring, then looked down at himself, “Yeah… right… one size fits all on whose planet. No wonder the human women on Terra are always cranky.”
"I could...you know...help you with that," Callan was trying to be helpful, but wasn't impressed that Y'Roden was mishandling his gun, "They're handy to have...and...I think the whole point is for it to fit tight."
Callan was actually enjoying the horror he could hear in Ro's voice, "Well." The Emperor straightened and waggled one arm so the fringe swayed, "What d'ya think, Long Stranger? Is it me?" his fingers smoothed the costume down, what little of it there was. Now...the pants...those were interesting...actually...they were something like chaps...strapped at the waist and covered nothing of his crotch and rear end...that's what the suede thong was for...
The Emperor nodded slowly and peered around the room archly, "HA! Pansies. I didn't need a ring!"
“Yeah, yeah,” Ro said dryly, “Come along Taunt-oh… I think we are up… I mean on… I’ll just shut up now. You dance… I’ll keep an eye peeled for Linnis. You know… I may take the hat and spurs home…”
"Hey, I can't do the dancing." The song that was playing stopped, an announcer's voice drifted into the dressing area, announcing them as the special Celebrity Strippers...and the manager was back again, herding them out onto the stage to peer, literally, like deer caught in the headlights, "I can't see the pole..." he finished weakly, "and you know? I can just imagine what would happen if I fell of the stage."
There was stunned silence from the crowd that smelled of Aquanet hairspray and soap, talcum powder and potpourri...
"Uhm...hi."
The music started up again, this time it was a song Callan had heard before...Stroke
"Hey! I know this song!"
It went without saying, that by the end of the song, of which some of the lyrics were, "I stroke it to the East, I stroke it to the West, I stroke it to the Woman that I LOVE BEST," some of the guests had to be resuscitated...and Callan had made well over $1,500.00 cash. None of which he was going to share with Y'Roden when they found the tiddie bar....
And, despite their best efforts, no Linnis was found. Which...was probably good. Callan wanted to be the one to tell everyone about Ro and the bright white pants with no ass in them...
He honestly didn't care if anyone told Tay he hadn't stopped at the thong...
Hey...lots of things were legal in Canada that weren't anywhere else on Terra. If it was legal, it couldn't be wrong, right?
Linnis sat easily on the barstool, downed yet another shot of vodka, a slight shudder running through her from its taste. Her other hand held a man's head firmly down on the bar top. In the background music still blared away, flash lighting swaying back and forth across the stage. Girls were still dancing on it, their rhythmic and gyratory movements of bare flesh captivating the small male audience. They were now ignoring the brunette. She wasn't causing them any trouble and wasn't interfering with the show.
Unfortunately, some patrons had interfered with her. One was now realising his mistake.
The mistake was opening his mouth. Linnis had been disgusted when she had first entered, girls flaunting themselves, men ogling them. But its one saving grace had been alcohol. All she wanted to do was drink in peace. Having burst out of the asylum and the run in with that bloody vampire, the brunette felt drained, and now wanted to drown her sorrows. Those bastards had just left her there. How the hell was she supposed to get back to Nenlante when it was warded? Ro had known this, had damn well knocked her out. They'd all pissed off without her.
Y'Roden.
He'd killed him, the man who was her father. The man she didn't even know. The man who Silverthorn had refused to talk about. Almost denied his very existence. Maybe if she'd told her, then none of this would've happened. The fact that her mother had once again been captured by Dr. Robison, tortured, raped. Linnis was just too drunk now to care. She was becoming lost in her own self-absorption and misery. The anger was receding to be replaced by misery.
Except of course when some idiot beside her had opened his mouth. She'd told him bluntly where he could stick his money, he had persisted. Now his head was on the bar, Linnis' hand pressing quite firmly down.
"Now, let me say this one last time, and I suggest you listen." The tone was calm, but filled with coldness. "I am not wearing some uniform and dancing on a pole. I don't care how much you're willing to pay me, but if you suggest it again, I'll make sure that you'll never feel the...desire to come in here again." She lowered her head so that her lips were close to the man's ear. "Do you understand?" The question was punctuated with a knife blade pressing against his groin.
Linnis felt him go rigid. There was a nod, almost imperceptible, as if any sort of movement might cause this mad bitch's hand to slip.
"Good boy," the brunette said with mock pride, bringing the man up by the hair. He came up willingly, breathing heavily, a slight shaking. He turned to face her. Middle-aged, balding, overweight, it made the half-elf want to vomit. An angry sneer crossed her features. Suddenly her grip tightened, pulling at what little hair he still had. He started to claw desperately at her hands, agony spilling forth from his lips. Strength that belied her appearance slammed his head down. There was a thud, the only movement was a body sliding to the floor, a small pool of blood left in his wake. Blue eyes did not look upon the man, not caring if her was alive or dead. They did however fix upon the bartender.
Without even saying a word, the young man knew what she wanted. Quickly he opened up another bottle, carefully placing it in front of her. He tried to hide his nervousness. He'd seen her viciousness and really didn't want to be on the receiving end of it. There was a gun under the bar, but didn't fancy his chances, especially as she seemed to have a sword strapped to her back. Hopefully someone had called the cops, lock this mad woman up and throw away the key. There was a hospital not far away, an asylum, rumour had it, maybe they could chuck her in there.
“Hello Pumpkin," a rich baritone rang out behind Linnis, one emerald eye winking at the startled bartender as Y’Roden’s massive arm encircled the female half-elf’s waist. He was back in his Terran travelling clothing again, much relieved to be rid of the cowboy outfit. A sharp yank had the drunken woman off her stool and dangling midair, his forearm jammed beneath her chin and holding her head back against his shoulder at a painful angle. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink sweetheart, its time to sober you up a bit. Shall we go outside and have a little talk about your behaviour?"
There was a non-committal grunt as Callan slid into the bar stool Linnis had just been hauled from, at his feet was a plastic shopping sack, he'd bought the Tanto outfit...sans ring...and was currently leaning back, elbows on the bar, seemingly watching the 'show' with Linnis and Ro. Oddly, the bartender, and the bouncers that were every bit the same size as Y'Roden and Callan seemed to...look away...after a few large bills were pressed into their palms.
It was amazing what money could buy in North America and Callan was enjoying spending his hard earned bucks.
"Maybe we shouldn't be so hasty," Callan patted the stool next to him, "I mean, this place has an all you can eat, rib-eye buffet, free well drinks until 7 p.m., and...."
About that time a set of fingers from a stripper who was scantily dressed as Barbara Eden from I Dream of Genie, caressed his cheeks as she danced and gyrated from a crouched position behind him. It wasn't every day someone was stuffing money in the bartender and bouncers pockets and not down her g-string....
"And, if I'm not mistaken, HOT women. Do you know how hard it is to find women that look good, stripping at 5 o'clock on a Wednesday?"
"Let her have a seat. I'd like to talk to her a little myself."
There was a sharp intake of breath as Linnis was hauled backwards, the voice instantly recognisable. "I know when I've had too much to drink," she spat, bringing one leg up to kick out in he direction of Ro's groin, "and don't call me sweetheart, you bastard!"
The half-elf pointedly ignored Callan, simply shifting his grip on Linnis and striding past the bar to a door marked ‘Employees Only'. One booted foot kicked it open and he practically threw Linnis into a desk, one hand tangling in the brunettes hair and slamming her head onto the top of the desk. Sword drawn, Y’Roden leaned over her, “Give me one Gods Damn good reason why I shouldn’t sheer your worthless head of your shoulders RIGHT now you little bitch. Just one, and it had better be good... because my patience is at an end."
Well, this just sucked. Callan had wanted to watch so many things today, and he was blind as a bat, which if one looked in his eyes they'd know. Still clouded and hazed from the balefire attack, Callan's eyes had yet to return to their true shade of clear topaz, and instead were a frosted ice blue.
"Dammit. I'm missing it." The unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn hissed under the door that had closed behind the pair, and Callan sensed a bouncer approaching him from the left, "It's okay, they're getting in character for a movie..." Another large bill was pressed in the hulking humans palm, "Now, where's the buffet? I might as well eat while I'm here."
Knowing Linnis and her legendary penchant to whine and piss and moan, they'd be here a long...long time...
Blood started to trickle down the brunette's forehead, Linnis was starting to sober up rather rapidly. She kicked and flailed in vain to get Y'Roden off her. At no time did Linnis like being restrained, it reminded her too much of when she was young. Hearing the distinctive sound of metal exiting a sheath, her movements came to a halt. So, was this it? First they leave me here, now come back to kill me? she thought.
There was only one reason, one person who could actually stop Ro, and Linnis hated to admit it. "Because you love her too much to do it," she said in a small voice. "But if you are going to kill me, then get the fuck on with it, stop playing these bloody games!"
“I should love her enough to do it," Ro snarled, “I’d be doing her a gods bedamned favour." His thumb pinched down on an artery in the woman’s neck, retarding the flow of blood to the brain and bringing on a pounding headache. “However, I’ve sworn off killing women just for the pleasure of it, and killing you would be a pleasure."
He leaned in a little closer, laughing softly, “I could just let Callan in here and let him introduce you to a whole new sort of pain. But, I hate being a spectator. He is bloody himey about sharing his kills."
The thumb released the flow of blood, sending it roaring up in Linnis’s skull to render her helpless with pain and dizziness. “So... you get to live. However, we can’t have you running around on your own, you’ve proven that. Can’t be trusted, so, I’m afraid I’m going to have to tag you like Terran wildlife and lock you up in a safe place. Safe for everyone else, of course, not for you."
She tried not to scream, cry or generally let Ro know he wasn't hurting her, but she couldn't help it. He knew how to hurt and the bastard was enjoying too. Blue eyes shut, trying to block out the pounding in her head. "wha...what do you mean? What are you going to do?" Panic suddenly gripped her voice. There was no telling the depths and sheer depravity Y'Roden would go to.
Her arms began to flail at him again, the half-elf liking her current position even less. "Get your hands off me, " she began to cry out, "let me the fuck go!"
Meanwhile out in the tiddie bar, Callan was working his way through a second steak cooked rare and smothered in mushrooms and grilled onions when the flash of a camera went off and the excited question of "Ben!? Ben? Does J-lo KNOW you're in a strip club just before the date of your wedding?"
Callan paused mid-chew, thought about it, then swallowed carefully, "I'm sorry, J-who? Oohhh. Why would I care what she thinks? Better yet, why would she care what I'm doing?"
Things for the look-alike actor didn't improve either when one of the employees of the bar strolled up with a Catholic School girl uniform in hand, and quite oblivious to the reporter, asked Callan, "You DID say ship this to Mistress Laura of the Mind's Eye, didn't you?"
"Yeah...Yeah I did." Callan cracked the lid off a Budweiser, took a long drink, then set the bottle down, "She'll get it where it needs to go...Here...add this Long Stranger costume to the parcel, Arianne is going to LOVE me for this..."
“Such language," Ro reprimanded calmly, “don’t worry your pretty little head. This won’t hurt much... for long." Yanking her up by the hair the half-elf flipped her over, holding the struggling Linnis over backwards on the desk and bracing a knee on her bicep, “I would recommend holding still, I’d hate to slip and slice open something vital." Lacing his fingers through hers, the S’Hean King pressed their palms together and released his wrist dagger. Sliding the blade in between them he twisted it slightly and grinned slightly maniacally, “Gritting your teeth might help."
A jerk of the blade released the scent of blood heavily laced with Aethyr and the burning sting of the separate types mingling. Heady D’Riel blood invaded Linnis’s system, searing through her veins like acid as it laid claim, marking her for the Web and tying her lightly to its fringes. “Blood of my blood," Ro said cheerily, “you can run, but you can never hide... not anymore."
The pain was so intense, Linnis thought that she might pass out. It seared through her, her insides felt as though they were on fire. Blue eyes closed, her breathing was heavy, she tried to twist out of his grasp but the heavy-set S'Hean was too strong for her. "You fucking bastard...what have you done?"
It was a strange sensation, suddenly it was as if there was something bigger out there, the brunette couldn't quite put her finger on it. There was something else too, just out of her vision. Her head kept turning from side to side, but nothing, yet she was sure there was something there..
“Nothing that wasn’t called for,” Ro growled, straightening and yanking Linnis to her feet. With the Web wide open, he could feel the Aethyr trail to the ring he had given Fionna and for a moment, he was distracted.
“Now, you are going to be a good little girl and do as I say,” he continued as he hauled the door open and pushed her through, shoving the dark haired woman at the Dragon Emperor, “Callan here is going to take you back to S’Hea whilst I go track down your sister. I’d recommend you keep your mouth shut from here on in, he isn’t nearly as understanding and good natured as I am.”
"Bite me," the brunette spat back at the King of S’Hea. "First you leave me here and NOW you want me to go back to S'Hea. Sod you!" Her head was still thumping and now seemed to be in time with the music. "I'm not going anywhere with you," she said matter-of-factly before turning to leave.
"Exactly his point." In the doorway, stood one Callan Blackthorn, his massive arms folded across his chest, his large frame filling the exit almost completely. The doors in Terran buildings were cut to fit average Humans, and Callan was by no means average sized, even for his own race.
"You will be leaving with me." A malicious grin turned up one corner of his mouth, "Now. Shall I escort the Lady D'Trel back to S'Hea, or am I going to be dragging back a vicious, self-absorbed kid that needs to hang in the Gardens for a few weeks to teach her humility?"
"What, he's more of a bastard than you? I find that hard to believe!" Her tone was dismissive, and quite disrespectful, despite the situation she was in. Linnis did not intend to go anywhere, with anyone, especially Callan.
"No, I'd say we're pretty much equals in how bastardly we can actually get. Though, the problem is, while Captain D'Riel can, amazingly, maintain control and not slit your throat, I don't have that safety on my trigger." The Emperor stepped through the door and his arms slowly lowered, his hands going into the pockets of his worn Levi's, "You're young, Linnis. Don't make either of us demonstrate the flip side of the coin, especially mine, because, under normal circumstances, you have a lot of living and growing up ahead of you."
Callan nodded at Y'Roden, "I can handle her from here. Go get Fionna. I imagine she needs being found far worse than Linnis here."
Things were about to get real interesting...real fast.
Ro raised an eyebrow at Linnis, almost nodded at Callan, then cleared his throat. “Alright, I’ll be as quick about it as I can.” Brushing past both of them the S’Hean King headed out into the club, sidestepping a dancer who was looking to make a buck or two, before making it to the door.
A heavy boot stepped over the wreckage in the doorway of the warehouse, its counterpart coming to settle beside it as Y’Roden paused to eye the carnage with a dispassionate eye. He had only come here for one reason; anything else going on in the warehouse was none of his concern.
There was a deep-seated desire to go after the dark creature that had slain several of his people, but the main focus was Fionna.
The screaming, hysterical blonde whose feet were at the edge of a bubbling mass of mechanical and biological matter. Curiosity triggered for a brief moment, then the half-elf was moving forward again.
He didn’t say a word; there really wasn’t any point. Gentle fingers opened Fionna’s clenched hand, the silver orb slipping easily from her bloodied fingers and dropping into Jacen’s remains. “Shhhhh.” Stroking her hair back from a tear streaked face; Ro swept his stepdaughter up into his arms and swung around, oblivious to the battle still raging on behind him.
"No! Don't touch me! Let me go!" Frightened eyes met emerald green, dazed and lost as she struggled against the arms that held her.
Then reaction set in as the full horror dawned in the half-elf. Tremors started to race through her body as if they would tear her apart. "Oh Gods!" She blanched, her stomach churning and tears welling up in her azure gaze. "He's dead. He's really..."
Yet even as she spoke her mind rebelled, flashes of memory layering over one another. Jacen, her lover, laughing and joking. His alter-ego and the brutality of his touch. Over and over again until she was no longer sure which memory belonged to which man.
A nerve in Y’Roden’s jaw twitched, but he kept his gaze on Fionna’s as a shimmering vortex of verdant green swirled open against the wall of the warehouse. The scent of waterfalls and roses wafted in on a warm breeze, so out of place and surreal in the midst of chaos and death. Without looking back, the S’Hean King bore Fionna through to the safety and shelter of his Kingdom, the vortex snapping firmly shut behind them.
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