stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Maybe death was a potent enough statement to keep them at bay, as though by murdering their leader Darcy had become the one in charge. How fucking barbaric of them. Another reason to hate vampires and their jacked up way of how the world worked. Not like the raven-haired woman needed yet another reason to fuel her own incessant hatred. Her eyes briefly flit down to Tybalt's unmoving mangled corpse once more before walking along that lineup with every ounce of confidence, like she hadn't gone through that trauma that would certainly corrode her mind later tonight. She was sure of it. She couldn't let that weakness creep its way in, couldn't let it seep inside of her or it would be the single thing that destroyed her. Every single one of the people in this room was her enemy. They would have killed her if given the chance. She was sure of it, she had to be.

At least now they stood and cowered, of course, with a minor altercation. That asshole was going to launch for her neck, that dried blood clung to her throat where Darcy had burned her with silver. That other vampire took it like some kind of twisted invitation just for him. She sure as hell didn't think so. How close she was to get into an all-out brawl with that vampire she bashed his nose within. But it was Darcy's sharp curse that seemed to make him fall back in line, that bloodied vampire's eye glowered with certain disdain before submissively falling to the floor in an obedient instant. That sickening grinding sound that came from Darcy disturbed her, crunching rumbling loud enough that those sensitive ears were ever aware of it. Someone had their panties in a twist. Then again, when did he not?

Princess might be the obedient little pet but there was no way Harley could or would be ever be that, her mind could hardly fathom bending and breaking for another. She had fought too damn hard to be still breathing even now, not to be someone's little obedient slave. No matter how much pain and suffering that lay before her as a cost for that stubborn will. This was going to kill her, she could feel it in her bones. But not tonight, how determined she was to believe that very thing. Harley's eyes lingered upon the fallen Tybalt's body once more, there was something about it that disturbs her to the core. Fuck, she could just add it on to the shit heap that she was accumulating in her mind for later. It was then that he barks her mutilated name, that utterance escapes her, more like a snap. She was too tired of this. That warning growl left him then and that inner feline wanted to riot against it. She clenched her jaw in an effort not to focus on that sensation, struggling with that strange creature that now lives within her. She will fight her if she had to. She will fight every last thing that wants to control her until it killed her.

Was Darcy joking? That very mention about rating those men, seemed like one hell of one. She hardly thought Darcy possessed a funny bone in his undead body, those brows rose well above her glasses then in that utter disbelief that gripped her. No, he certainly was not joking, how could he. He looked like he had a perpetual barbed wire stuck up his ass. That would keep a genuine smile from anyone's face, if only he had that excuse.

How unaware Harley was that as she rated those men the true repercussions of her actions. Even as she stared them in the face and judged them like she had the right to based on appearances only, it felt terribly superficial. How... seemingly innocent a task it was. How fatally wrong she was. Yet, she owned that very task like a boss, the inner feline took some pleasure in putting those men in order to where they belonged.

It would seem that night wasn't finished throwing those curve balls, that was a resounding no on that. That shooter suddenly appeared, an abomination in the door way firing that gun without hesitation right at Darcy and Princess with barely any time to react. If it weren't for Harley catching a glimpse of that sordid gunman. That curse bolts from her with passion when she stopped those bullets midair, well the world seemed to stop. Ending the momentum of the very bullets that may have sent Darcy to his final resting spot. That side look he gave her did not go unnoticed and it sends her mind reeling. The cat was out of the bag on that one. Dammit.

Darcy was already ready with a gun with inhumane speed before she could even comprehend what that knowledge could do against her. It assaulted her mind and worried her all at once. She barely understood that power herself. Yet how little time did she have to truly process any of this. Especially not with Darcy wielding his twin guns like he was the badest bitch in the wild west. It was almost impressive watching him so easily firing those bullets. Those loud cracks hardly making her react anymore, there wasn't any doubt that those bullets wouldn't find their mark. She kept a watchful eye on those vampires within the lineup, all just as perplexed and consumed by the impromptu showdown. The gunman at the entrance didn't stand a chance especially not when the element of surprise had been taken from him. One of those shots met its mark as that man suddenly fell unceremoniously, just like that he was no more.

Harley watched him blow the smoke from the barrel of those two guns like a damn cowboy fresh out of those classic films. Yup.. she doubts Tybalt would have been able to pull that off. Darcy even spun those guns like he was showing off before sliding them away like he had done so many times before. At least those guns weren't pointed at her. She nearly shuddered at the thought when Darcy's gaze all but rove over her like she was some shiny new toy. She almost felt small beneath that look but she doesn't allow it to make her sink into herself, only causing her to stands a little straighter then. What did he mean by deal with those vampires she picked? She didn't know there was any dealing to be had. The thought of Risque knowing of her powers or anything about her worries.. her more than she's worried about those men she rated. "I don't think so.. its more... an inconvenience if anything. It doesn't even work... its faulty. you wouldn't go firing a faulty gun now would you?" Any advantage she could have would be if she could have kept this to herself. But now she had to go and fuck it up. By saving the vampire of nightmares. What the hell was she thinking?

Regardless, like most of this night, she hardly had a moment to deal with her own thoughts as Darcy focused dragged toward those vampires. It looked like they were about to face their mass execution, hell, they must have felt so too as the cowgirl bimbos seemed to quake. Good to know that vampires still felt.. anxiety. It was far too late to do anything about her choices now as Darcy placed his attention on one of the good-looking vampires she pointed out. It seemed like a pleasant enough conversation... well at least when Darcy was concerned. The more pleasant a conversation that vampire had with you, the worse off it was.. She couldn't help but brace for what was coming next.

Harley would forever remember that name Cliff, it already seared itself in her mind. Even though Cliff the hot vampire would have surely ended her in less than a moment's notice if alone in a room. He did as he was told, rising his eyes to look at Darcy before he flopped to the ground. Just flopped. Dead. A scream from one of those other glitter vampire slut assaulted Harley's sensitive ears. Her vibrant violet eyes widened in horror. If looks could kill.. Fuck. Looks were not supposed to kill. In no fucking world.. no reality should anyone have that kind of power, let alone a psychopath like Darcy. Not a sound dares to escape her then, regret assaulting her as she took a step backward. And another for good measure. Yet additional fatal lesson learned the hard way.

Hearing her name on Darcy's lips made her flinch, she picked those men... not him. Harley should have known this wasn't some easy little task that she could execute in her sleep. She could smell that dead man's fear, it smelled putrid. She was sure she hated the smell of a scared vampire. It made it infinately worse. Noticing how he trembled, he looked almost human, like a man who didn't want to die and she just signed his death sentence.

"Come on..." She was about to tell him he wasn't that pretty. But she wasn't going to lose her life because of him. She bit her tongue suddenly, hard. those words dying just as fast. Just as quickly as he was going to die the moment he rose his eyes.

Harley watched in complete awe at Darcy in action, completely callused and heartless. But seamless. He killed without a single thought, his eyes perhaps just as deadly as his guns. There was nothing the raven haired woman could do in that moment than simply watch. Watch as that man looked into his eyes for the briefest of moments before falling limply to the floor, no muss or fuss which was more than could be said about the woman who mourned, screaming and ugly sobbing. Guilt, it grips her so resolutely it nearly makes her sick, nearly steals the breath from her. She picked out those men, she sent them to die... well.. die die.

Why he would want them to work for Syn was baffling. Especially the woman who was bawling her eyes out over that dead man whom she clearly loved. As much as a dead thing could love. It was still a gut-wrenching sight that Harley could not help but avoid looking at. Just how many enemies was that one little were making tonight? Too fucking many. It was this thought in turn that has her looking upon the remaining faces, studying them closely, committing them to memory.

That sweet little mew left Princess' lips, as Darcy without that caused Harley's gaze to rise to glance at the cute little furball staring at her with large eyes. "What? Afraid you'll miss me?" She asked softly to that lynx cub. Not even the Princess was safe from the woman's snark. She was perhaps the only thing in this fucking shithole that didn't entirely suck. She was content to ignore Darcy's idle fiddling, she should have known better to question it to never lose sight of him.

The three of them made their way out of that bar, it felt heavy in there, that carnage had a weight to it. She could still hear that woman sobbing as they stepped over the body that now lay at the exit of the bar. The raven-haired spitfire didn't give the dead vampire a single look but she was slightly concerned he was going to grab her and yell GOTCHA when she was half over him. Once embraced by the coolness of night, the music was soon silenced except to a dull thudding as that door shut with startling finality behind them. How she savored in that feel, drawing in that fresh air that almost felt cathartic in a way, her lungs expanding until she couldn't accept anymore. Surprise flits across at the self-driving car pulls up to the curb. It was creepy the way those doors opened, yet not enough to stop the eagerness of wanting to leave. "You can drive a car with your mind, huh? Fancy." She comments with sarcasm, hardly expecting an answer. Along with fucking looks that could take the life out of you. She didn't bring that up. Didn't want to acknowledge that particular power lest he use it on her... She moved to find her way to that back seat, but Darcy's hand gesture had her freezing. How that very move makes her skin strand on edge.

Harley allowed her vibrant to flit across him then noticing he looked like a bloody mess. His face was tattered ruins, he was saturated in blood, it was impossible to tell if it was his or a mix of everyone else, he, they... killed. A confused frown crossed her features, why he didn't seem in a rush to leave was beyond her. They had just obliterated a bar... it wouldn't be long before the cops showed.

Dead eyes gave her something of a compliment and she nearly scoffs at him especially claimed she enjoyed it??? She enjoyed it like swallowing a ball of rusted nails. This was doing a good job? He was a flat out lunatic. It at least afforded him one hell of a look, that purple tinge of her sunglasses made the whole night seem a little less real at least. "Oh yeah... hell of a time." That biting sarcasm escapes her then, clinging tighter to the wooden box tucked away underneath her arm.. "You are lucky you weren't in the lineup. You look like serious shit." She growled, barely looking at him. Catching a glimpse of those murderous eyes, fuck his eyes were creepy as hell. To think she looked at them fearlessly before disturbs her slightly, even with these glasses. Those violet eyes peer upon the rest of him. It was true, he looked like he was thrown in a vampire garburator mixed with other body parts and whatever the fuck nasty shit they threw inside of it. "Why do you have such a bone to pick with pretty boys?" She's bold enough to question, that sarcasm lingering like she was amused by it all at once.

How greatly unprepared Harley was for that bullet, her mind drawn to a far and distant place where she went to think. She hated vampires with a fiery passion that stems further than just a scratch on the surface. Vampires had taken nearly every damn thing from her save for her life. But tonight, it just felt wrong. Seeing that woman cry over her mate's demise, that didn't feel right. She wasn't a monster, however debatable that felt right now. How could anyone enjoy seeing something like that. Watch that pain and get off on it. It certainly was not her.

His words felt like a distant echo, heard distantly underwater. How she just wanted nothing more than to go home, to wash herself clean of this night. Like she could do just that. These powers were still so foreign, probably brought out from the intense duress she experienced in that office alone. Darcy truly looked like he suffered worse than she did. Part of her gleaned great pleasure at that. She swore she could see Ray splattered across the floor, Tybalt's once furious face now slack and well, lacking much of a face. Vampires, well mostly were the victims tonight. She shouldn't pity them, shouldn't pay them another thought. But seeing those human-esque faces, well that certainly didn't help. It fucked with her brain. Made her mind spin like a clusterfuck tornado whipping around her cluttered thoughts and slamming them all at once to the surface. It was Darcy's irritating voice that sliced through that night along with her thoughts, the sound of cars zipping by in the background all just noise. To think that voice was once something she thought was funny, now it was just plain grating her. Her inner feline hardly liked the way he spoke to her, hardly liked that threat he issued.

By the time she rose her chin to glare at him, to spit out those fierce words that matched that fiery heart of hers, the bullet was sent spinning, flying right towards her with a little less momentum than a bullet from a gun. It hit her right in the stomach, just above her belly button. It buried just enough to feel the pain, to feel the burn of metal biting through flesh. It didn't go deep enough to cause a true problem because she stopped it. But not without there being more blood.. More of that fucking abuse. Fury coiled within her so resolute. She could hardly contain the venomous cry that escapes her then. "Fuck off man." How she felt that metal, felt it with all that rage, frustration and even fear that she had been swallowing way down in the pit of her stomach. How that bullet suddenly blasts out of her, singing through the air right up toward Darcy's face. It veered a little like a curve ball, zipping right by his favoured ear with all that metal. How she felt that too. She swore she could have ripped them out... She could have done so much and yet, she lets it zip right by his ear, so he could hear it, feel the air of it, the brush of it. It didn't stop until it hit some random pickup truck behind him, shattering the window. This power, it fucking terrifies her and yet, at least now she didn't quite as weak as she did when she was human.

"Dick move, Darcy. Have you not had your nightly fill of bullshit today?" She cracks in the wake of that searing pain. Ouch, even with her body attempting to heal the damaged done. She fucking hurt everywhere, her heart beat seemed to give those wounds a pulse. She didn't dare cling at her new wound even though instinctually she wanted nothing more. It was only a flesh wound, but still enough to feel it sharp vicious burn, like someone shoved a fucking hot poker stick in her gut. Hot wetness soaks through her shirt. Her jacket was destroyed... her shirt tattered ruin. She might have been a lot like swiss cheese but hey, she was alive.

"Remember, that is the second time you're still standing because of me, dead eyes." What brave words left her then...that nickname she had created for him never more accurate than now after she saw what they could do. At that, she went into the right in the backseat where she belonged, tipping her newfound hat downward as though she could shield that ugly realization dawning upon her as she looks to her bloodied hands, it almost disturbs her how little she cared. She placed the box upon her lap, but she doesn't dare open it, not as those slick fingers slid along the smooth surface of the mahogany wood as that horror begins to settle like an egg within the nest of her mind. This was her life now.

Harley Westward