The Choices We Make [Leann's plot people]

[Eluard Verlaine]

Outside, rain was pouring hard on the city of Endonia. The streets were dark and quiet, save for the downpour and the occasional flash of lightning veining through the sky followed by its earth splitting boom. Night had fallen earlier today and most people took comfort in the shelter of their homes, the mall, or other casual establishments. A certain part of the population - the obscure, the mysterious and the downright criminal - was gathering somewhere else entirely. Below the cold concrete of wet streets, reachable through the sewers and other, more surprising paths, was the dome of a certain man’s arrogance and delight. More than a base, the luxurious space was especially designed for show, just like everything else that stood to describe the character of Miguel Vesquez.

The centerpiece of the underground dome was an arena, built to resemble the Colosseum, a structure famed for its brutal fights in centuries past. Its stands were lined with comfortable seats, at the very base (where the cream of Endonia’s criminal masterminds and people of note would be seated) there were plush couches. Somewhere behind the walls of the main room, various other rooms existed for different purposes. First, there were the holding cells, singularly purposed to house the reluctant “guests” that would be providing entertainment. On the other side, preparation rooms for the volunteers of the arena – people, either human or mutant – who, for whatever reason, wanted to fight for their lives and glory in the eyes of the Boss.

High above, on a plushed throne that shone like gold and could very well have been made of the precious metal, a massive man sat overlooking his domain and waiting for the show to start. He had tables on either side of him, one laden with fruit and meats and the other sparkling of bottled liquids that looked both expensive and toxic. Encased in a transparent, hard plastic bubble, he looked upon the arena, the stands and everything else, relishing his power and impatient for entertainment to start. Today he would enjoy slaughter and gambling as he strengthened his influence over the new crime lords and lordettes that seemed to surface around Endonia’s underground like mushrooms in a cave. It was always good to keep in touch with the already established others as well and all in all see who could remain and who needed a sudden push into a deep ravine.

Amongst these spectators, benefitting from the title of “honored guest” was Eluard. The information dealer was lightly familiar with the crime lord, but their acquaintance was strained and unspecific, Eluard having done everything in his power to remain as obscure to the other as possible. This both displeased Mr. Big and made him admire the blond man’s discretion and professionalism. So confident was he in his standing and power that not for one moment did he consider the “White Serpent” to be a threat. Everyone in this room, bar those brought here unwillingly, were criminals of some sort or another and most of their squabbles were amongst themselves. No one had enough power or desire to go against the bigger fish, and Mr. Big knew he was one of the biggest ones in this sea.

Eluard, who wore his usual white mask with smiling lips that reminded of fine sculptures of polished marble - charming and refined where it kept him mysterious, stood on his own seat somewhere to the side of a simple stand. Within the room, other people that were his associates occupied various chairs and waited for his signal. As spectators gathered, started greeting and congratulating themselves on their most recent successful exploits or amazing escapes from difficult situations gotten out of control, Eluard considered everything and everyone. This arena was a great thorn in his pride, he who lived to give mutants their freedom. What he was about to attempt tonight could very well claim his life if he was discovered or was unsuccessful. The risk was immense but necessary, for Eluard could no longer sit by and see the crime lord exploit mutants and humans alike for his perverse entertainment.

A gong sounded through the stands while late comers took their seats and grabbed treats from silvery platters carried by particularly beautiful serving girls. The lights in the massive room went out and spotlights flamed to life, casting their colorful gazes in the throne’s direction. Blue and gold light bathed Miguel Vesquez, who sat up straight with his arms outstretched like some conqueror from legends old. His plastic bubble had opened, its walls sinking into the ground of the pillar platform he sat on. “Ladies and gentlemen of the night, I’m happy to welcome you to the sensational Arena of Wild Diamonds, where you can feast your eyes on the most unique displays of battle prowess of our time.” He took a sweeping look of the stands and paused with emphasis on the VIP sector where other important figures of the underground were seated.

“Please enjoy our generous selection of food and drinks, brought from the most exotic of locations as you bear witness to a spectacle you won’t easily forget, remembering that all of this was brought to you by yours truly. Let us bear away our grudges, tighten our bonds and simply enjoy the show tonight. The night grows dark, without further ado, let us welcome our guests in the arena tonight.” He flicked his wrist towards one of the gates and a spotlight shone in that direction instantly. “I’ll let them present themselves and wish you all ecstatic viewing.”

The whole arena fighting space benefitted from light. Across its moderately vast expanse, various weapons were scattered on the ground. Swords, pikes, bows and arrows, maces and everything else medieval – they were all available to the combatants. Eluard’s sharp blue eyes were trained on the stage and there was impatience in his limbs although he made no move, his skin prickling with anticipation. When the spectators would be most engrossed with the scene before them, he would act. Already knowledgeable about the various security codes that stood between him and locations around the dome that he had no place visiting, he was ready to take on one of the biggest challenges in his life.

The only strange thing was the gripping curiosity he had about the people that would be coming from the opening gates. His hands gripped onto the armrests and his eyes widened slightly in observation of whoever stepped forth from behind the first set of bars.

[Leann Lacey]

The first time had only been a warm-up. That's what he'd said, and that is how it had unfolded. The cliche that the "table had been set" for her had been exceptionally true, although one could say that the metallic weaponry favored by the medieval savagery depicted in the arena already tipped the scales in her favor, if only a touch. There was more to it than that, of course. On the first night, Lee had been a surprise "dessert course" for the extravagant attendees of the Wild Diamonds - and a well-received one, at that.

(Start "flashback.")

On that night, the battlefield had been decorated in a manner much different than it was tonight. The theme of the evening had been "Late Spring Cleaning", and the events that had taken place over the course of the night had revealed that theme to be most descriptive - a carnal festival of bloody entertainment revolving around the horrific slaughter of individuals that had either crossed the Boss himself or one of his esteemed associates. The (generally) unannounced change in script had delighted the majority of the regular spectators, even during the unassuming first bout where a pair of unfortunate rookie police officers that had "been snooping around the wrong place at the wrong time" were placed in a fatal bloodsport of bare-knuckled brawling - on an elevated platform, with "randomly selected" audience members keeping the "contestants on topic" via the liberal use of flame-throwers. The end result was both thoroughly enjoyed and ultimately expected by the clientele - bloody though the fight may have become, the excitement and anticipation of carnage was too much for those "randomly selected." The flame throwers, used liberally, quickly scorched the combatants... but that was decidedly "boring." Thus, a sudden "stipulation" was enacted - only the last individual surviving on the floor could leave the arena. So it was that the first bout of "Late Spring Cleaning" was a barbecue with no victor. It had, of course, been planned that way.

As the evening progressed, the entertainment became much less "final" for all involved, with match-type oddities that had never before taken place in the Wild Diamonds. "First Blood" or "Until a Combatant Loses a Limb" or "Loses Consciousness" were not the usual recipes for successful matches in that horrid place, and by the time the night was half-over, many in attendance were beginning to wonder what was "wrong" with "old MV." To clarify, they were not so much worried about the health or well-being of their host; rather, they began to fear that, perhaps, their favorite form of entertainment could potentially be going away. Thus, the further speculation on the title of the event became rampant. This fear became paramount when the final match of the night was announced as a "Freedom From Faulty Choices" match, and the audience became quite restless when they were informed that the Arena would "have to be prepared" and were then, subsequently, forced to exit the arena area and spend an unhappy thirty minutes in the nearby ("legit") casino before the night could continue. Many half-joked that they were walking into a gas chamber. Luckily, for them, they were wrong.

The return to the arena came with the fury of a stampede - the result of heightened emotions and irritable anticipation from the forced banishment. But Mr. Big had not been untruthful with them. The arena had, indeed, undergone quite the make-over. It was a make-over that had come at the expense of the near-entirety of that night's "volunteer" combatants and all of those unfortunate enough to lose in the "mild" matches that had taken place before. With the exception of the western arena entry door, the walls and floor of the Coliseum had been covered by heavy black rubber. The battlefield itself had been made exceptionally flat by the modification, but it was littered with a multitude of "ornaments" - heavy metal crosses upon which the aforementioned "volunteers" and losers had been mounted. They had not been crucified, per se, for that was not the purpose of the night's finale. Instead, they had been strung up - tied to metal with metal, and gagged with metal as well.

Once the audience had filed back into place, a large digital display crept down from the ceiling, depicting a time limit, of some sort. Thirty minutes, said the bright yellow LED display, but no other hint at its purpose was given to the audience. Without an introduction, the single remaining entry point to the arena had opened, with a small army of armor-clad individuals marching through. As if to remind the audience of the origins of the "Coliseum", the fifteen or so individuals were clad as Centurions. Once they filed in, however, it became clear that they were not there to fight each other. Instead, Vasquez had abruptly opened his bubble, announcing to the audience that he was introducing his new "angel of death."

It was on that announcement that Lee was brought forth into the "bubble." She was clad in a tight, matte black, no frills, nondescript body suit, with matching boots and gauntlets. None of it was heavy enough to be any sort of armor. Her only ornamentation was a heavy black collar - which also displayed the timer along her throat - and a helmet that seemed to lock on to the collar. The helmet was also equipped with a tinted visor, that left only her mouth and chin visible. She was colorless, save for the pair of bright pink braids that hung behind her from beneath the helmet.

For the audience, there was only what they could observe - the ornaments, the Centurions, the timer, and the strange girl that had literally been dragged to the edge of the boss's bubble. For those clad in armor, the rules of the game were simple - slay the pink-haired woman within the time limit. The faster she went down, the more "bonus" time those in armor would have to dispatch the helpless on the crosses. Killing the girl was worth $250,000. Each "bonus" kill offered a multiplier by the number. For Leann, her options were laid out as such: thirty minutes to kill all those trying to kill her. If time ran out, the "collar" she was wearing would explode, and her mother's life support would be shut off.

She had only the one choice, but she had not been told about the "innocents" that acted as conductive obstacles. Though she fought to keep herself out of the "playground" that had been built for her, she was eventually thrown into the pit, and the game... the game went exactly as Miguel had planned.

(End "Flash back.")

Although it was, perhaps, an understatement, Lee was still quite numb as the "festivities" opened, once again, at the Arena of the Wild Diamonds. While it was, in actuality, three days since she had been "baptized" in the arena, she did not feel as though she had even left. Whatever had happened in the time between her "introduction" and now was as black as the soul of the one that owned her. Such was her state when, hands bound by chains, she was pulled into Vasquez's bubble above Eluard and the rest of the excited crowd. Her black wardrobe and pink braids - now the "flavor of the month" - were quickly noticed by a handful of the spectators even as she was dropped into place at the side of the boss's chair. As such, attention was drawn to the bubble at the expense of the entrance of the "volunteer" - a human, armed with a net and a trident.

She was not scheduled to participate in the first event of the evening. Or, at least, she had been told that "only under special circumstances" would she be "thrown in." For some reason, there was a touch of solace in the idea of "not being used", and so, once on the ground, she slumped over. With her shoulder against the cold of the boss's chair, Lee finally recognized exhaustion, and in an instant, her head dipped forward in abrupt slumber.

It was then that the human's opposition was escorted in. The net and trident had been chosen in mocking opposition to the blue-skinned individual that was brought in next. Between the hysteria in the yellow eyes and the decoration on the blue-skin (scaly and dry, especially around the neck where there appeared to be "gills", and a multitude of scars) it seemed clear enough that the mutant was "feral", even if it hadn't been once upon a time ago. Like Leann had three nights before, this "creature" was adorned with a collar, but unlike Lee, there was no timer and there was no helmet. Instead, the collar was linked by chains to bracelets and anklets, obviously meant to hold the creature in check. Once the two "caretakers" had pushed it into the arena and the entry doors had screamed shut, the chains - by remote detonation - exploded off.

The match was on and it began with the creature's body suddenly "exploding" with water.

[Eluard Verlaine]

It was for the first time that Eluard visited the arena of the underground. His associates had briefed him about the practices within and, had he been a younger version of himself, he would have rushed onto the scene with more haste and much less preparation for the task he assigned himself. It was remarkable how “Mr. Big” managed to keep such a large nest of evil off the police’s radar and Eluard already knew there was substantial bribery involved as well as outright extermination of witnesses. You never crossed MV and lived and Eluard was going to attempt just that. His mind reached out to the image of Jenny and although he didn’t intend to make her an orphan, he took comfort in the substantial sum of money he had left for her, under Noreen’s care (the clumsy and honest babysitter) just in case something happened to him.

The information dealer didn’t manage to maintain his attention on the arena because Mr. Big’s plastic bubble beckoned for more attention. His gaze, and those of the rest in audience, turned to note the new addition beside the massive man - a young girl, dressed for show and chained for obedience, and Eluard knew this must be the rumored new pet the devil on the throne must have acquired. Eluard pulled a small monocular from his pocket and raised it to his right eye. The girl looked as listless as a puppet, on the verge of shutting off like an electric doll running on spent batteries. That was the first impression Eluard received from his observation, her face slumping forward soon after and consciousness apparently closing away from the world around her – all the loud, grinning faces of the underworld. Eluard looked the part, although not ferocious or bestiary, eerie and sweetly cold with his elegant smiling mask and contrasting icy eyes.

A part of him even recognized his belonging to the unsavory group that populated the dome. He was just as deceptive as them, similarly wildly in pursuit of his own goals at the expense of those who stood in the way of his vision. Although he was driven by feelings that society could call altruistic and in line with justice, they weren’t entirely so. Even though he honestly wished to end the practices within this arena for the benefit of those forced to partake in them, he had ulterior motives behind that sentiment. Mr. Big had gathered quite an assortment of mutants for his personal entertainment and Eluard wanted them on his boat as much as he wanted to free them from the tycoon’s clutches. His own interests would greatly benefit if MV was out of the picture in the underground, his web of influence ripping into little strands that wouldn’t inconvenience Eluard as much as they did currently as a whole.

His gaze turned away from the little female brought to the devil’s side and returned to the arena and the two combatants that had stepped forth. A mocking display, between a willing handler and a tormented pet started unfurling. The blue-skinned mutant seemed to be suffering a worse fate than any actual fish in the sea. His golden eyes were crazed from the suffering of his existence, his entire being apparently turned purely instinctual, whatever higher consciousness having animated him long gone at this point. Eluard watched with impressive impassiveness, even to him. There was a shred of sympathy in his eyes but it was buried very deep in the depths of their blue, flickering for the broken person with subtlety only someone looking for it would have spotted. As the “creature” charged forward, animated by no strategy but attack-the-trident-wielder, the information dealer wondered if the blue-skinned mutant could be recovered.

The trident carrier, with a squeal of glee, struck out his weapon, grazing the creature’s arm as it instinctively tried to dodge impalement. Eluard’s eyes narrowed on the scene just as the struggling fish person let out a cry of pain and its ferocity intensified, all of his rage and suffering boiling up to the surface. Through his monocular Eluard could see the desperation in those gold eyes, ready to die, savagely interested in taking the human before him along as his only available act of vengeance for all the wrong the world had wrought upon him. Eluard looked away, acknowledging the necessary sacrifice and intending not to let it go to waste. A few glances around told him the crowd was deeply engrossed with the battle and the sheer spectacle of the mutant brought in to be tortured. His gloved hand pressed onto a small device under the collar of his coat and he spoke a quiet word into it.

He lifted from his seat, bothering no one as he did so for he was at the very edge of the row and headed for the nearest treats tray girl to complete his cover. Throughout the vast arena, other people started departing their seats in unspecific succession, each making sure to blend in with the frenzy of the general crowd, all of them Eluard’s men. After eating a particularly tasty meatball on a stick, Eluard headed for the bathroom. He entered a specific cubicle, looked down to spot any feet that could be on the ground of the room and listened for any movement just in case and, when the coast seemed to be clear, he lifted a tile that had been loosened previously by his preparation from the floor. The space it provided worked with his slender build and gave him just enough room to wiggle down into the passage below before replacing the tile to create the illusion of un-disturbance.

Throughout the vast dome, his associates were positioning at strategic points, some taking other pre-prepared routes down under, through the ventilation and sewage system of the underground structure. Eluard popped open a canister he drew from his coat, night view goggles already replacing his mask. He was bent down in the tight tunnel that was filled with pipes that veined into the dark distance, carrying the waste from the toilets above. Although the sewage system wasn’t the most comfortable of routes to take, it went everywhere and there was room for humans to pass through it because pipes in such a large setting often needed repair. From the tiny canister, Eluard gently lifted up a round device – a mini bomb he started attaching to the wall opposite the pipes. This was the first of these remote control detonation trinkets that he and the others with him would be decorating the underground of the underground with. Although their booms wouldn’t be strong enough to take down the dome in one crumbling blast, they would flood it and severely damage everything, putting it out of “business” for a long time, if not permanently.

Turning the building into a lost investment was the first part of what Eluard wanted to do eventually.

[Leann Lacey]

Meanwhile, back in the arena...

The entertainment was proceeding as chaotically as the crowd, or Mr. Big, could have wished. The human, whoever he was, was certainly no slouch with his chosen (or, perhaps, prescribed) weaponry, and he had, so far, kept the fish-monster creature at relative bay. In fact, it was better than that: he'd scored a significant blow to the creature's left eye and its right shoulder, significantly hampering its battle capabilities. At this time, the general anti-mutant sentiment of the gathered crowd was on full display: their chants and cheers were strong enough to shake the coliseum to its very core - even down into the depths where Eluard was working his shadowy sabotage.

But Leann? She hadn't seen a bit of it. Had she been an anime character or a character in a JRPG, the size of her "snot bubble of sleep" would have been so large as to drown everyone inside the boss's bubble. Of course, she was not, and she didn't snore, so if Mr. Big had not, for whatever reason, chosen to glance down at his new "pet" he would not have noticed that she was not "partaking" of his specially crafted festivities. The sleep might have been automatic, and needed, but it was not desired by the master pulling the puppet's strings. Still, MV was not one to explode with passion; his anger was taken out much more meticulously.

A moment after his recognition of his charge's slumber, Miguel called a scantily clad attendant forward to request a bottle of vodka. This coincided nicely with another successful strike by the human combatant down in the arena. So it was that the roar of the crowd covered the boss's grasping of the aforementioned bottle and the subsequent crowning of the pink-haired girl with it. The blunt impact and the shattering of glass awoke her in a start; and the flow of alcohol burned her suddenly open eyes like hellfire. Her cry was lost in the roar of the crowd, as was the vicious snatch of pink braids that forced her into a standing position in front of the boss. Whatever words that were spoken were also muted, but the chains on her arms were grabbed next, and she was forced into a kneeling position at the foot of the "throne", her arms held painfully and awkwardly above her head.

But then a gasp struck the crowd. All eyes remained on the floor, ignorant of Lee's plight in the bubble. The blue-skinned creature had made a clever dodge, and played an unexpected, fatal card. The dodge had left the human off-balance, and the "fish" was able to reach out, catching him by the throat with its good arm. Abruptly, the water began to pool, wrapping about the human's head like a liquid vice. Seconds seemed to flow like years, as the bubble - and the pressure inside - grew. And then, the fight was over. The pressure gradient within the liquid sphere had reached the literal breaking point... and the human's head had imploded.

The brutality, of course, was rewarded with applause. Anti-mutant or not, the entire reason the crowd gathered at the Wild Diamonds was to witness that kind of savagery. The applause seemed to spark the boss's interest, and a haphazard idea formed in his head. The blue-skinned creature, victor or not, was effectively ruined. It had served its purpose long enough, and with water being so conductive...

"To the victor go the spoils!" came the announcement over the arena's PA system. Then, the display from the other night dropped down. The boss, his free hand working on a keypad of sorts on the arm of his chair, was busily typing, and the message that flashed across was echoed by the announcer. "Spoils... as decided by the audience! Up or down, dear guests? What fate does our victor deserve?"

In conjunction with this announcement, the boss - and his pet, unwillingly - rose and moved to the front of the bubble. Mr. Big, a smirk on his face, looked over his "flock", already knowing what the decision would be and - if he was surprised - fully prepared to ignore it. His free hand extended, fist clenched, and thumb extended sideways. The choice was a simple one: life or death. As in Rome (or, at least, as it was theatrically portrayed) the thumbs up or down would decide it. No one bothered to know what up or down really meant.

And it was resounding. Though appreciative of the violence, the crowd would rather see more death than any victory. The decision made, Mr. Big's bubble began to open. The pink-haired girl struggled, but it was all for naught, and as soon as there was enough space, the action was made to throw her inside.

But...

Someone behind the scenes hadn't caught up with the real-time festivities. In the non-impromptu post-match setting, tranquilizers were to be shot into the "beast" and the doors would open to allow its caretakers to safely re-collect it. No such darts had been shot... and the doors, ironically, opened just as Leann was plummeting to the sandy floor below. She landed with a wicked thud, the air crushed out of her lungs by gravity. It should have been a terrible opening for the fish-mutant to attack, and it would have been, had its attention not been centered on the opening doors. It was given an unintended choice: try to escape or tangle with whatever it was that its hated "keeper" had thrown into the tank with it. It chose the former, darting quickly for the door, bowling over its astonished caretakers, and escaping into the holding pits and beyond - it was headed into the underground of the underground, the very same area in which Eluard currently resided.

To say that Miguel Vasquez was displeased was an understatement. Still, he was not incapable of improvising. First, he produced a cell phone, alerting his main communications center that a "breach in security" had occurred. Secondly, he informed those that he was going to send his new "pet" after the threat - accompanied by a cadre of guards, two of which would be armed with video cameras - one with night vision equipped, and one with infrared on board, so as to capture the "glorious confrontation" in real time for the deserving audience in the arena. A second call was then made, instructing a different set of guards to setup the necessary conversion of displays in and around the arena. Finally, the boss himself leapt into the arena to take hold of his charge, pulling her off of the sand by the hair and holding her in place until her "escort" arrived.

Less than ten minutes later, Lee's chains were being pulled by other people she didn't know, into the bowels of the arena to hunt for a creature she had no wish to face...

[Eluard Verlaine]

No sooner had Eluard managed to attach the tiny explosive device to the wall that a voice buzzed into his microphone-radio. “We have a problem boss. Mutant escaped from the arena. Probably heading your way with cameras in tow. RIGHT NOW.” Shit. Eluard took one hasty look at the device he had managed to set, barely hidden in the gap produced by two rocky plates of wall with a shallow fissure in between. He didn’t have time to remove it. “Where are they right now?” He spoke into his coat, his eyes darting left and right as he considered his route options, not ready to call the bomb setting operation quits yet. “No data. Couldn’t pursue. The mutant went in through the holding pits.”

Without a second’s thought, Eluard wove his telltale bond hair into a ponytail and flipped a hood over his head as he rose to his feet in the low, tight, corridor and started going to his right. Both he and his men had familiarized themselves with the layout of the underground tunnels and the sewage branch he was currently in went on to collect the holding pit waste directly to his left. He hurried into the opposite direction and not a moment too soon, because whatever had started running (as much as you could run in a tight space, depending on size) was already making noise at the other end. It would be unfortunate if the mutant or his pursuers, in their squeeze through the sewage system would accidentally press onto the bomb Eluard had just set. While it wouldn’t create a large enough boom to crumble the thick walls too much, it would split the pipelines and definitely blast parts of them to bits.

Eluard brushed minimally through the corridor, his slim build and unimpressive height (5’10”) helping him navigate through the tight space without much difficulty. His night vision goggles gave him a good view of everything and when he reached the end of the corridor and came to a spacious cavity that acted as a hub for tunnels that went literally everywhere, he didn’t take any, instead latching onto the metal ladder that led up into a ceiling of thick pipes beyond which there was one simple metal lidded exit that went into the kitchen (or cook room) of the building, opening into a storage room.

The information dealer climbed high but did not reach for the latch that would open a potential escape route, instead crawling onto the cold pipes that were thicker than his own body and very sturdy. He peered down through a gap between two of them and pulled out a plastic cylinder from one of the many secret pockets in his custom-made dark coat. From another he produced a needled, dart-like thing that he slipped into the cylinder carefully. It was a small tranquilizer dart, bearing a dosage that would put down an elephant in a few minutes and a human instantly. Sitting like that, he waited for whatever would come out of the passage, fully intending to shoot a dart at nothing other than the runaway mutant. It wasn’t personal and he would do it with a heavy heart that would add more dark blotches to his conscience but he really couldn’t have all of this fuss going down here when he was doing something that would benefit the captives of this arena in the long run.

[Leann Lacey]

Something was moving through the filth in a frenzy, the cacophony of loud splashing indicating that it was moving with speed. While the volume was one indication, it was the nature of the splashes that were most indicative. It was not the sort of splash of running booted foot meeting a lonely puddle; rather, it was like the breaking of a waterfall on jagged rocks. It was a terrible sound, though given its obvious origin, it was somewhat pitiable.

And it was convenient, for Eluard's sake, that he had taken an elevated perch.

The water appeared before its master, rushing into the central sewer hub like the torrents of the least friendly rapids imaginable. Tainted with filth, the river was thick and clung to the walls as it filled the star-like space. It rose about halfway up the escape latch's ladder before stalling... and a blue-tinged, murk-covered flash rushed through towards the northeast, splitting the filth and causing it to deflate like a loaf of bread newly pulled from the oven and brutally lanced before it could settle. It took a few moments for the waste-filled maelstrom to drain away, and once it had, silence reigned in the area for an additional few moments.

When the silence broke, it was a combination of sounds: boots in water and on watery stone, the clinking of unhappy chains, and voices.

"This's a buncha bullshit."

"Shut up, Jacobs."

"Naw, seriously. Bullshit fish monster, man. And we gotta cart the spark plug down here, too?"

"Least you gotta gun. Wanna trade? This camera's goddamn heavy."

"Screw you, man."

"Would all o' you shut the hell up? Harvey, where the fuck's the key to this bitch's chains?"

"Wha- key? What? No idea what yer talkin' 'bout."

"...Seriously?"

There seemed to be at least four distinct voices echoing down the passage towards Eluard, but the noise of footwork implied a stronger force than those verbally audible. This would be confirmed as the group marched their way into the central hub beneath Eluard. There were eight guards in total, in a variety of dress and equipment load outs. Five held firearms of various sorts, two were wielding the aforementioned cameras - now on, or so the lights seemed to indicate - and the last appeared to be in charge of the ninth member of the "search party." Lee was the centerpiece of the group, and her chains were being pulled by the eighth guard. She did not appear to be resisting much as she was dragged into view.

"Which way'd it go?"

"Why you askin' me?"

"I wasn't. Hey, Jerkface, check the infrared! You see anything useful?"

A pause in the verbal action occurred as one of the "cameramen" checked his equipment. Although none of the guards were paying attention, it appeared as though the pink-haired girl began to tense up.

"Prolly that way. More shit on the walls."

"Right. Ha, ok, we streamin' right? Bring the cameras over here."

The head guard, who had not been identified in banter, had been charged with more than the task of simply leading the misfit group into the sewers in search of the escaped mutant. It was also his assigned task to make the whole situation watchable. Through the entire trek, that task had been on the guard's mind and, intentionally or unintentionally, the creature's decision to go northeast at the hub (and the infrared determination of that choice) had given him the prime opportunity (it was a dead end.) He practically strutted as he walked over to Lee, the cameras following his every movement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages! Let me welcome you all to a special edition of the Wild Diamonds arena! Tonight's intermission entertainment promises to be unlike anything you've ever seen before! We're streaming live from beneath the coliseum, hot on the trails of that despicable creature that fled from your judgment only minutes ago! But don't worry, loyal viewers, there is No. Such. Thing. As. Escape![/b] Two cameras for your enjoyment, in three different spectrums! Natural... kinda dark, huh? Night vision!"[/color]

A rumble from the crowd echoed down from above, as half of the displays in the arena switched to that irritating green-tinge.

"Aaaaand, infrared!"

Another rumble, another switch. The other half of the monitors went into the familiar controlled tie-dye. Then, abruptly, both switched back to standard view.

"Now, we'll get to the action momentarily, but I suspect the star of our little show needs some face time, right?" With a "snrk", the guard reached over and jerked Leann's braids, forcing her head to tilt up and her vision to go towards the ceiling. If she saw Eluard, there was no indication - her visored helmet made sure of that. Next, the guard reached over with his free hand, cupping it around Lee's chin and squeezing her cheeks, like one might do when teasing a child. "Ain't that cute? She's even capable of imitation, folks! Look at that awesome fish-face!"

"Nn-ngh..."

"Aw, does that hurt, little angel? That's fantastic, cuz the crowd loves to see you squirm!" He let her go, but the "freedom" came with a consequence in the form of a very non-playful backhand. It dropped the girl to her knees, allowing the guard to take up the entirety of the camera's eye. "And this is just a friendly reminder - to you all and to her - that failure will not be tolerated! Hahaha, the consequence for that are far worse than a little love tap! Now! ONWARD!"

And without any further ceremony, the group turned and moved in the direction the fish-creature had gone. The banter between the guards had disappeared, for those who had not been "on-camera" were more than worried about their own safety, given the situation. In the central hub, moments passed in relative silence, but the sanctity did not last. The first thing to reach Eluard in his perch was the sound of gunfire, and a handful of screams. This was accompanied, with only a slight delay, by the rumble of the crowd above. More gunfire followed, and then, below him, the first of the guards appeared.

"Ohshitohshitohshitohshit! Why the fuck didn't we have the key?!"

It was the guard that had been dragging Leann along. He did not appear to be injured, but he was running like hell in the opposite direction. The gunfire began to draw closer, as did the voices of the guards.

"Kill the Goddamn thing!"

"It... it ATE[/b] Jacobs!"

"The sonofabitch is half mouth!"

"Stupid bitch, VAPORIZE it! What the hell are you doin'?!"[/color]

It did not appear that things were going well. A sudden rush of filthy water came flooding into the central hub, bringing five of the remaining guards and Leann back into the cavernous space. A pair of severed, free-floating legs also accompanied them. At this point, the guards did not seem anything other than distressed and filthy-wet, and the two with the cameras still held their equipment firm. Even under the stress of the situation, the two with cameras moved with purpose, re-positioning themselves along the edge of the chamber. The sixth guard came flying through the air, a late dead-on-arrival, as he smashed into a nearby concrete wall and slumped into the murk, unmoving.

Out of all of them, only the deceased, the "pieces", and Leann appeared to have taken damage. Her helmet was cracked, with half of the visor shattered off. There was a touch of blood visible on the exposed part of her forehead, and her one visible eye appeared bloodshot - a side-effect from her unhappy exposure to vodka in the boss's bubble. Her arms were still tightly bound with chains, but something made her struggle to her feet. As she did so, her gaze momentarily flitted to Eluard's hiding spot - she had seen him, but the look didn't linger very long.

"G-get... outta the way," she said, stumbling into the center of the hub. "I-I'll... I can-"

She was not allowed to finish, as the creature came back into view. It had... changed since Eluard had seen it in the arena. Its arms had seemingly been partially absorbed by its body, the webbing between the elongated fingers causing them to look more like fins than humanoid limbs. Its body had also split, lengthwise, revealing that the commentary from one of the guards from before had been true - it really did seem to be half-mouth. As if acknowledging this, the creature stopped, seemed to inhale, and then spit. The projectile? The head of the guard it had "eaten." The skull flew out, shooting past Leann, ricocheted off of one of the walls... and landed on a pipe near Eluard. The creature roared - and the crowd above roared with it.

"Oh, God, please... please let this work..."

The guard opened fire again, but they might as well have been Cobra shooting at G.I. Joe. Their bullets were far off the mark, perhaps due to fear, and the storm of ricocheting lead caused more problems than anything else. The bullet storm bounced around Eluard, Lee, the creature, and the guards... but the only one hit was one of the cameramen. Still, this was not the focus - the focus was on the chained girl. In a moment of bravery - or, perhaps, more correctly, stupidity - she ran straight at the creature. There was no telling what she was trying to accomplish, and whatever her purpose, it hardly mattered. The creature, having the advantage of not being restricted by chains, locked on to the approaching girl, jumped into the air on her approach, and dropkicked her to the entrance of the western tunnel. Its followup was quick; Lee scarcely had the time to stand back up before it was upon her. The gunfire died, as the guards could not risk shooting their boss's pet...

...

...and in a moment that lasted years, the creature jumped, arcing like a dolphin bursting from the waves. Its half-body mouth opened wide, like a snake unhinging its jaws, and it engulfed the pink-haired girl.

"W-w-what the fuck!?"

But it wasn't over. There was an ironic saving grace to the situation. The bite had been the end of one of the guards... but this time, the chains that had restricted Leann worked as makeshift armor. Though the creatures fangs tore at the back of her thighs, the back of its jaws clasped only cold iron. She screamed, of course, though it was muffled, and the roar of the crowd above seemed to threaten to bring the sewers down through sonic power alone. The awkward movement that came next was reminiscent of the movement of a kid, bullied at school, from the unhappy placement of a trash can on his head. The seriousness of the situation did not elicit humor, however. The combination of Lee and creature stumbled off into the western tunnel, and the guards initially made to give chase...

"Wait! WAIT! SHIT! RUN! SHE'S GONNA EXPLODE!"

Without warning, blazing green light erupted from the western tunnel, bright enough, despite the distance from the source, to momentarily blind anyone in the central chamber. The light was the silent precursor to the tremendous, ear-splitting thunderclap that came next and even with ears ringing, the burning, sizzling crackle and the sound of concrete collapse could be both felt and heard in follow-up. Whatever the destruction was, it could not be seen from the central chamber itself - but the cameras had, at least, caught the initiation of the phenomenon. Though there was a beat of silence following the destructive sounds - the cameras had, momentarily, shorted out - a cheerful cry came from above, and continued for two or three minutes while the guards in the murk attempted to recover. However, enthusiasm was stunted by curiosity. What was the ultimate result?

"God... damn it! Harvey, get Jerkface outta here! James, get the goddamn camera! Sid, yer with me!"

"What?!"

"Idiot! Confirm and collect! GO!"

The injured guard and his escort went one way, the trio remaining stormed into the crumbling entrance to the western tunnel. Minutes passed in silence, and then-

"Well, sonofabitch..."

A new cheer erupted from above, and a few minutes later, the trio of guards emerged, one carrying the tattered form of the pink-haired girl on his shoulder. The head guard grabbed the camera.

"Whaddaya think o' that, Wild Diamonds? I hope ya placed yer bets on the cute one." And, abruptly, the camera was turned off. The head guard turned to the one carrying Leann. "Get her the hell outta here and, for God's sake, do what that shithead scientist said and hook a Goddamn battery up to her, alright? If she fuckin' dies, so the hell do we, got it?"

And to the holding cells they went.

[Eluard Verlaine]

A lot of nasty things lurk around sewers and as nasty things go, they seem impossibly drawn to colliding into whatever outside presence comes into their lair. As such, before the fish-like mutant could come into view and get a tranquilizer dart in its back, a big rat dropped on Eluard’s back, startling him enough to prick himself with the dart in the chamber of his cylindrical weapon. Nothing seemed to be going exactly according to plan today…

Not yet affected by the small dose of paralyzing substance, but knowing it wouldn’t be long before it manifested some effect, he just looked through the space between the pipes, his night vision goggles giving him a good view of the “show” that unfolded. First came the creature, sloshing muck everywhere, quickly followed by its pursuers. What Eluard hadn’t been exacting was to see the pink haired young girl dragged into the underground scene. The escape of the blue skinned mutant seemed to have been taken as a fun turn of events, the men preparing themselves and the girl to tend to making a spectacle out of it.

Eluard considered his options. One of them was trying to take his chances with the kitchen storage and finding a way to return to his inconspicuous guest position. Another was to stay as still as possible and avoid detection, hoping that the problem would resolve itself and he could return to his task. The last and least wise of them all was to interfere in some way with the proceedings, risking revealing himself and dooming this whole operation. With sudden sleep starting to cloud his mind, there was only one option really - wait through it and hope there was some little star up there watching over him. By the looks of it, the pink haired girl needed one as well.

Just as he thought that her hair was yanked back and her gaze was forced to the ceiling where she could have spotted his own goggles keeping an eye on them and hints of a body behind the thick pipes. The moment made him stare with impressive stillness, anxiety piling in his chest and escape plan flaring back as an option in his mind. Of all the stupid moments to start succumbing to the effect of tranquilizers, this was definitely not the best of them. Still, the moment passed and he maintained his consciousness, albeit in more weakened state. When the guards, camera crew and girl went after the creature again he touched the mic under his coat again.

“Commotion headed south. Continue operation on north wing. Keep your ears sharp to possible disturbance but do not abort.” His hand slumped back onto the pipe. “Roger that,” a voice on the other end responded and after a moment of hesitance, added “Are you okay, boss?” The sound of gunshots started coming from the pursuers’ direction. “Yes. Don’t get distracted from the mission,” was all Eluard could say before he needed to be perfectly quiet again.

As if all of a sudden, the fight spilled back into the main sewage chamber, bringing limbs, people and a monster along for it. Distress was suddenly thick in the air. The girl, whose visor had been broken from her helmet, had risen to her feel, her pained gaze lifting up to his position before she struggled to the middle of the hub. Her words sounded as if she was going to turn into a human bomb at any moment and Eluard would have heeded her advice, if only his body would cooperate. Right now, although still conscious, there was weakness in his limbs that made him quite sure he couldn’t hope to balance across the pipes to the metal ladder successfully.

But somehow, even if he could have moved, he was dead certain he wouldn’t have. His eyes were wide behind dark goggles with a gruesome flashback caused by the unfolding scene in front of his eyes. He barely noted the bullets that ping ponged through the room in a flurry. For some reason Eluard could not divine, the pink haired girl looked like she was going to sacrifice herself to stop the rampaging mutant that had been abused inside the arena. It was something he would never forget. Not for as many years he lived and perhaps after his life ended also – the last look his wife had given him before jumping to her doom to save him and Jenny. As they had stood before that turning point he had told her he was going to be the decoy, not her, and her reply had been kissing him and during it shoving him onto a moving platform that rose to safety while a mechanism made hers descend to take on the task. She had looked up and said, with that warm smile of hers “You say that as if I’m giving you a choice.” And she was gone.

He would have gone after her if not for Jenny who was crying in a basket on the level above, waiting for her parents to bear her to safety. That was what the pink haired girl was reminding him of as she ran towards the monster. As she was slammed to the ground, Eluard reached a hand through the pipes in her direction, feeling just as powerless as he had felt that day in stopping time from flowing and changing the direction of events that revolved on faster than he could follow. Quickly, the struggle went into a corridor that led towards the west sewers and soon after, blinding light made Eluard retract his arm and close his eyes powerfully against its glare, his ears ringing from the sound that accompanied. It was as if thunder had struck in the other chamber. For a moment, he could hear the sound of his own breathing, or was it that he could feel it? Because hearing much wasn’t exactly working for him well.

The last thing he could make out through blackening vision was the sight of the pink haired girl being carried along on someone’s shoulder and then everything went dark – Eluard finally lost the fight with the tranquilizer.

When his eyes opened again, one of his associates was standing over him and he was spread on an improvised bed in the sewers. The other man opened his mouth to say something but Eluard cut him off. “I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position and ignoring the nausea the motion produced. They had found him by tracking his radio transmitter. “Have you distributed the gifts?” He asked Dylan, the man who looked relieved to see him well and curious about what happened. There was no way Eluard would start explaining how he had almost been killed by a rat. Dylan nodded once. “Operation went smooth after the fuss ended. All they need now is to be popped open.”

Eluard got up with Dylan’s help and tested the quality of his balance. “What’s the time?” He asked, unable to figure how much he had been out. The answer to his question told him it couldn’t have been more than three of hours. However, in that time, the show had ended and those left behind had retreated into a smoking room where they feasted on tobacco and congratulated themselves on being so smart and evil and well dressed.

The only people inside the holding cells were maintenance staff and the mutants and humans kept there when Eluard stared down that hallway, looking for the sight of familiar pink hair. His white mask was back on his face and he tried to hide the tired from his eyes. His boots and coat had been cleaned of mud and dirt and he paced around like a curious visitor. For once, he didn’t know what he was doing there and what he would say to the girl he had seen in the sewers earlier that day, but he was driven forward by an unstoppable force to find her anyway.


((That was one epic post, Lazarus, and while it was IMMENESELY entertaining, it didn’t give me much chance to react to anything with Eluard, but I shaped his situation so that it would fit along. I was actually wondering how to go about the situation and not change the thought of after-arena holding pit meeting, and I assume that was the intent of your post also, which works for me. Sorry for the lame-ness of my post and I promise a better one after we (me and Eluard) get a glimpse of Leann’s holding conditions and state.))

[Leann Lacey]

(( >_> Ah, yeah, sorry about that. I sorta... knew the ending, but really wasn't sure how I was going to get to it in that post and, ah, the journey to the destination got way more complicated than I anticipated. xD I'm glad it was entertaining, at least, though I dunno about epic - epically time consuming to write and to read, perhaps??? Also, LoL @ giant rat. No "RPG" is complete without at least one appearance by a giant rat, right? I do apologize for leaving you in a bind, though. e_e I just knew what I wanted to have happen in the end... but I didn't expect I'd handcuff Eluard/you as much as I ultimately did.))



Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sewer access was a murky, filthy kind of damp - one chock full of nastiness and disease, waste and other things forgotten and unwanted. It was not the most pleasant of environments, if one was inclined to a preference of understatements. Unfortunately, for the non-volunteers of the Wild Diamonds, the holding cells - euphemistically referred to as "apartments" by those employed by Vasquez - were not much of a step up. In this "loving" environment, things remained regrettably damp. Two things contributed to the wetness of the holding cells - condensation from the pipes overhead and the liberal use of fires hoses. The former was a simple expectation, while the latter were used for "all-purpose residential cleaning" and, naturally, "cooperation induction" for many of the more unruly residents.

Unlike the uniform filth and darkness of the sewers, the holding cells did feature a variety of sights, sounds, and smells. The physical makeup of the place was very much akin to a prison, but there was no uniformity in cell type. Some were classic - square cages of concrete and iron bars. At the opposite end of the spectrum were the futuristic ones, no doubt crafted from DNCS trash (or, perhaps, lucky/careful theft from DNCS shipments) and were made up of heavy, bulletproof glass or, in one rare case, crackling jets of plasma. The former were used for mutants with less impressive powers or those with "better reasons" to be cooperative, while the latter held dangerous and unpredictable types. Ironically, the more advanced cells could, with a certain perspective, be thought of as existing to serve the public good - the individuals held within them, like the fish-creature Leann had been forced to tangle with, were usually not fit for normal society's consumption.

Additionally, and not simply due to definition, the holding cells were much cleaner than the sewers below them. The fire hoses were an obvious contributing factor, but Mr. Big was not ignorant of the necessity of basic living conditions cleanliness. As such, the most common odor found wafting through the holding cells was that of bleach. The man at the top actually had a complete side budget devoted strictly to funding a cleaning service that specialized in biological decontamination and keeping their mouths shut. Certain 'guests' were also allotted some personalization of their living space and it was not by accident that those that preferred and were gifted perfume, potpourri, and/or incense were evenly spaced out along the various corridors.

Of course, there was no real touch of luxury here. The place was, as a whole, undeniably cold and stone. Gray was the most common color, and blue was the most common disposition of the residents held within. The only real exception to this rule was at the deepest point of the holding cells: the medical ward. Here, uncomfortably surrounded on all four sides by the most threatening of residents, those injured but deemed too valuable to let expire were given what rudimentary (or, in rare cases, abnormally specialized) treatment to ensure they would continue to be a "return on investment" for the boss. The medical ward was designated by generic red crosses haphazardly painted on used-to-be-white sign boards. It wasn't especially large, and consisted of five different rooms - four for "holding and procedures" (though, certainly, not to medically sterile specificity) and one larger storage room. And who were the practitioners? The medical staff consisted of two types: doctors and nurses who had lost their licenses due to any number of reasons and, thus, were easily coerced into service... and "residents" who had happened to have the skills and knowledge necessary to contribute and whose powers were ill-suited to the spectacle of the coliseum.

Leann was currently a "special" case and, as it turned out, did not actually have her own assigned holding cell. When the "pet" was at the Wild Diamonds, she was leashed to her master - and this was not simply due to the personal preference of MV. Instead, her usual close proximity to the boss was due to a blatant and obvious mistrust Mr. Big had for his lesser associates. They were, after all, the worst society had to offer and leaving his pristine little "pet" in the company of those accustomed to violence and sexual misconduct did not seem the best practice for his "new commodity." Although that would have been his explanation if asked, the truth of the matter was that the boss did not see the benefit in losing cannon fodder to electrical damage if it wasn't in the arena and, thus, able to make him money. The first night had already proven that to be a problem and, in a rare act of acceptance of responsibility, Mr. Big internally admitted it was his own fault - he hadn't told Leann that she had to cooperate with his organization; she only had to cooperate with him. And, admittedly, it had been entertaining to hear about the misery she'd caused by defending herself from unwanted advances.

So it was that Leann, damaged from her battle with the fish-mutant and exhausted and unconscious from her Luminaire explosion, was stationed in the last room of the medical ward. When Eluard entered the area, he would take note of its relative emptiness, for the pink-haired girl was currently the only one taking residence in one of the rooms. There were two others in the ward as well - a red-haired woman, apparently a nurse, who was on her way out via another exit route, that had apparently been the last to check up on the girl... and a corpse. The corpse was in the far corner of the entry room and, in life, had probably been a doctor or scientist of some sort, as indicated by the cliche white coat it was wearing. As it was lying "face down" in the corner - stated as such only for orientation purposes due to the fact that the majority of its head was little more than a splatter on the wall - it was difficult to tell the gender of the body. The kill was rather fresh, however - a "reward" for having discovered a successful method for "recharging" Leann.

As for the "pet" herself, she was seated on a wooden bench in her room, facing one of the side walls. There was a gurney, as well, a medical tray containing an empty bottle of sterile water for injection, waste suture string, the necessary curved suture needles, cotton balls, gauze, antibiotic ointment, medical tape, and scissors, a red plastic sharps container, and a nondescript waste bin. The gurney itself was stained with what must have been Leann's blood, with the imprint indicative of the damage to the back of her legs and the wound she'd suffered on her head. Additionally, four completely melted car batteries framed the gurney on all sides.

Lee was dressed in her adopted "normal" uniform - white trimmed and collared in green "sailor suit" dress, black fingerless gloves, and her police cap. She was wearing knee length tangerine-colored socks, and her black inline skates were off to the side, leaning against one-another so that they formed a triangle with the floor. She was also utterly soaked, probably from a fire hose, and because of this, her dress was effectively see-through, depicting that her undergarments were of the bright pink variety, though no other details could really be discerned. Additionally, her thighs were lightly bandaged, as was her forehead. She was hugging her knees to her chest, and did not seem to be in a hurry to do or say anything to anyone.

[Eluard Verlaine]

Eluard passed through the first stages of holding cells like treading through a mocking dream. The setting was very reminiscent of his experience with another country’s government’s holding pens and the whole thing poked a stick at the barely slumbering rage demon Eluard was usually quite good at keeping under control. The fact that he should see such a thing somewhere other than expected was very upsetting and after the walk he would have through these rooms and seeing so many caged faces the information dealer had no more qualms about wanting to bring all of this down and MV along with it, no matter the risk and consequences. A mirthless little smile appeared under his mask. These were the same kind of reckless thoughts he would lecture others for so that meant he was still not over it yet. Would he ever?

The end of varied cage display led into an additional five rooms. The moment he passed the invisible border he sensed he was overstepping his welcome In some way. Although he had his men positioned to warn him should anything resembling trouble would once more come his way, the unease he felt wasn’t something he could shake. It was instinct at play.

The first person to greet him did it in a very morbid way, as dead often do. The doctor, nurse or whatever stood awkwardly in a corner of the first room, his head made soup decorating the wall. It was such a gruesome display it made Eluard’s already upset stomach remind him that he wasn’t quite well just yet. Without lingering on the sight, he pressed on, walking from room to room with growing anticipation. If she wasn’t here he would have to extinguish his curiosity and leave to return another day. But was it really curiosity that had brought him here? He frowned lightly under the mask and didn’t try to trace the root of his intentions too deeply. The fact was that he had been quite impressed with the feat he had witnessed in the sewers. Not very many people could have flung themselves at danger like that and for what? The guards, the cameramen? Eluard couldn’t understand it if even he could have been an influence. Maybe she had tried to kill herself?

When the information dealer stepped into the fifth room he felt somewhat comfortably away from any immediate danger, which was queer, seeing as a person (possibly suicidal) and with the ability of blowing up on a moment’s notice was within proximity. The space was empty, save for a wooden bench, an instruments littered gurney surrounded by something Eluard could recognize as melted car batteries and an unsanitary trash bin. The girl seemed to have been treated, but a bucket of water or more must have been dumped on her after, probably to remind her it wasn’t done of any charity or compassion. As if there could be any doubt.

Eluard walked more into the room and was to her side, stopping a few feet from her. “It will be over tomorrow,” he told her, his voice just above a whisper, tone laden with soft finality, as if he were some agent of death or angel of release (you never knew what to expect) and if she were to look at him and spot the queer clarity of his task in his eyes she would maybe come to sense just how out of the ordinary his presence was here, even with the room of oddities trapped in holding cells just down the corridor. Eluard would be surprised if she’d even really notice him, considering what she’d been through. “May I sit with you?” – Probably the strangest of requests given the circumstances and place. “Perhaps we can pretend that this is a park, with flowers in bloom, for a moment.”

[Leann Lacey]

Lee's response to Eluard's words came in stages. On initial observation, it was certainly safe to say that she was "uncomfortably numb" from her most recent experience (hell, her most recent experiences, really.) So, his words - all of them, because her response was delayed - had some trouble penetrating her seemingly gloomy apathy. Once his presence registered, however, her head turned, a short gasp of surprise escaping her lips. Her expression, as one might expect, was fearful, for his voice was not at all recognized and his presence not expected in the slightest. Her eyes were shining, whether from tears at her circumstances or eye drops to get rid of the hurtful red caused by the exposure to vodka, and it was clear that "things just weren't processing" in her mind. To her credit, she managed to recover, putting on a more neutral expression as she returned to her original position. She offered him a slight shrug.

"It's only over if I lose," she stated, quiet but matter-of-factly. "Dunno why ya wanna sit here... it's wet." It was easy to state the obvious. "...Dunno why someone'd come here, anyway..." Was that directed at him or just a general observation of the whole place and situation? "But I ain't gonna stop ya from doin' whatcha want. I dunno you, so I bet you ain't here to do a final check... but there's no flowers here, pretend'r not."

She paused for a moment, hugging her knees a little tighter. Then she sighed. She seemed much more cooperative than one might have expected.

"If ya sit... don't get too close. I shock by accident sometimes. ...And if the nurse comes back, I'll just yell at her, so don't worry..."

[Eluard Verlaine]

She was being a lot more reasonable and present than Eluard had expected. When she had presented herself fearful the blond man had raised both of his gloved hands, meaning to show he meant no harm, although why anyone would trust anyone in this place he didn’t know.

“Are you fighting for your life?” It was a follow-up question that didn’t really need an answer, for that seemed like the most logical assumption, but Eluard was the kind of man who expected surprising responses. He nodded once to her words. “True, perhaps I will stand instead. My main interest was getting permission to remain in your presence.” That being said and after he was told to do as he pleased, Eluard removed his black coat. Underneath it, he wore a collared light blue shirt with a buttoned, sleeveless navy vest on top. “You must be cold,” he observed, quickly unbuttoned the vest, took it off and held it out to her, the fabric still warm from having been worn and lightly smelling of fresh mint. “No one would know it’s mine even if they catch us.” Unless they started sniffing him very closely. Being here was a risk in itself, getting caught would be a problem but if it came down to a conflict, Eluard’s plans would simply be placed into motion earlier.

“The only question that remains is – why would you place yourself in possible danger for someone who could, quite probably, be just as the one who runs this arena?” There was some sharpness in Eluard’s eyes and he was distinctly recalling the episode down in the sewers although he made use of the current situation as example instead. “However, it would be good if the nurse did not chance upon us.” From within the secret pockets of his coat, the information dealer pulled out a long ham and cheese sandwich with salad in between, wrapped in a transparent plastic bag. Just as he had with the vest, he extended it towards her. “I don’t know what they feed you down here, but I don’t expect it to be appetizing.”

Eluard was smiling under his mask, it would show a little in his eyes. “They call me the White Serpent.”

[Leann Lacey]

"S'not my life, it's M- someone else's."

Lee made her first response quickly, as soon as Eluard's follow-up question was asked. It was an impulse, coming off as if she had been asked similar questions before and had a pre-loaded response in the front of her mind for it. Still, she had been aware enough to remember "stranger" and recognized the "unknown" by cutting off the single piece of "important" information in her response. She had not, however, bothered to look at him when she replied.

A confused look appeared on her face, despite the side profile, when Eluard stated his main interest was getting permission to "remain in her presence." The confusion kept her quiet for a few moments, and her personal silence was used to try and rationalize those words. It made her think of the past, of post-game meetings with fans or admirers not from her own school (after all, she used to be known as an easily approachable figure on her own campus, but how were others to know?) Because of this, she determined he was simply a fan of the destructive displays of the arena, and had come to "mingle" with its newest star. This determination made her heart sink a little bit more, but it also induced some modicum of added confusion. Wasn't he being a little too... reserved and nice for one of those kind of fans?

This touch of confusion mounted when Eluard offered her his vest. The motion required that she turn towards him, which allowed the information broker a full view of her malleable expression. Confusion first melded with concern, as she silently accepted the vest. It was a little strange, but she did not make a motion as if to don the garment. Instead, she simply held it, rubbing the fabric with her fingertips. Her expression softened a little as she did this.

Still, Lee didn't have long to linger with the tactile appreciation of Eluard's vest, for his sharp question, offer of food, and introduction-by-moniker followed close on its heels. At the question, Lee was visibly taken aback. She'd leaned back against the sudden change in tone, and her own eyes, reflecting that alarm, widened when they met the sharpness in Eluard's. The vest had abruptly fallen from her hands to drape across her knees. At the extended sandwich, Lee made no immediate movement, choosing instead to compose herself and wait out Eluard's introduction.

"Um..." Her gaze went off to the side, not really focused on anything in particular. "Doesn't that name kinda sound like someone who'd be fightin' in the arena? Snake's aren't... so friendly, ya know? But... I guess ya can't be someone I gotta fight later, huh? Otherwise ya'd know presents can't make me go easy, and that I only get "fed" if they think it'll be fun to watch." She paused for a moment, breathing, and then she let her gaze return to Eluard. Her mouth was twisted slightly to the side. "Anyway, I dunno whatcher talkin' about... puttin' myself in danger? You ain't scared of the nurse, are ya? She's actually kinda nice..."

So it seemed that Lee had missed Eluard's point. While she had certainly seen a man or figure above her in the sewers, she was unable to connect that person to the one standing in front of her. He had, after all, been cloaked in darkness and wearing goggles instead of the mask he was wearing now.

She shook her head slightly.

"You don' need ta try an' feed me, Mr. Serpent," she began again, her voice softer than it was before. "I'm not yer pet, ya know? And besides, I'll take care of it later... ya know? My leash is only short when he wants it to be. Night's over, so... well. I'll just go out, ya know? Or maybe you... don't know. Oh well, you'll see when the nurse brings me back my backpack..."

[Eluard Verlaine]

Eluard tilted his head when she started saying it wasn’t her life she fought for but he made no attempt to pry the identity of the person or what they meant for her at the moment. Curiosity shone just underneath the lucid look in his eyes, however. After she took the vest he offered he fitted back into his coat and left her with the clothing token, still warm from having been worn. Her fingers took a feel of the fabric and her disposition seemed to lighten but he alarmed her with his next words. It was his turn to listen when she answered the thoughts he had sprawled in front of her.

Something tightened in his eyes when she made the simple observation about the name people around him had taken a habit to calling him when he was in his underground role. Despite the fine line he walked, always threatening to and sometimes slipping into immoral actions, Eluard tried to preserve his respect for life and compassion along the way. Her pause gave him time to speak, the thoughtful strain in his eyes receding into a simply watchful expression. “No. I don’t expect we’ll need to be against each other in the approaching future.” There was a touch of matter-of-fact in his tone, and it could seem like he thought he knew something she didn’t.

He responded to her question and remark about the nurse with a genuine smile, hidden under the white ball mask, his eyes closing briefly as he brought his hands behind his back and straightening a little. When his blue eyes opened again, there was something cunning in their depths. “Many people are dangerous by association. Although the nurse may be harmless personally, any words she could share with people I’d rather not know I was here are another story. In fact, I would prefer that you don’t mention it to anyone, even though you owe me no favors.” He returned the sandwich to an inside pocket when she seemed to have no intention of taking it and brought out an azure napkin instead which he used to wipe the damp off the bench before deciding to take a seat, a foot or so away from her as she had requested.

The surprise he experienced when she said she would be free to go from the underground prison soon made him pause briefly. For a few moments all he did was gaze in her direction with unspoken question, but dots connected in his mind and he gazed to the side with careful eyes. “You are bound to return by invisible strings,” he assessed, a few fingers passing across his other glove to smooth a stray drop of moisture from its sleek surface. His sharp eyes returned to her then. “Are they keeping the person you fight for captive here?”

Eluard took a moment to make sure they were alone and no one was approaching before leaning very slightly in her direction. “I’ve heard you called by many names, but none your own.” He allowed some silence to pass between them during which his eyes were on the part of the bench that separated them. The blond man appeared thoughtful, as if considering something. “Is the person that binds you to return to the arena that important to you that you’re willing to risk your life for them?” It was a quiet question and Eluard ran a finger over a fissure in the wood before him. When he raised his gaze back to find her figure there was a very faint touch of strain in his eyes. “Are you not afraid of death or pain?”

[Leann Lacey]

It was difficult to tell, by her expression at least, if Leann was listening to Eluard at all. She seemed blank, though the general calmness around her dismissed the idea that she was "lost." In truth, she was listening, but she was still in a "recovery" state - as the boss's "pet", she'd received "more appropriate" attention in the makeshift medical facilities, which had included analgesics, local anesthetics, and a sedative. The wet girl talking with the White Serpent was light years away from the excitable one that had, nights ago, interacted with the strange DNCS android. As such, the only response she managed during Eluard's "turn" in the conversation was the negative shake of her head in reference to his question about the whereabouts of her "important person." The other questions did not prompt an immediate response... until the last one.

"I'm... scareda everthing," she quickly admitted, abruptly looking at Eluard. Her eyes were shining again, liquid with fear, as if to emphasize the point. "You seen the things in the arena, ain'tcha? Everything's... scary. Monsters an' stuff, even tha "normal" people... I'm a... monster, too."

She let that admission hang for a few seconds, closing her eyes during the brief respite. Then she sighed. With a frown, she returned to answering the masked man at her side.

"An' yeah, she's important enough. Ya think I'd... I'd be here, if she weren't? I gotta be here. Gotta... it's my fault. I gotta do whatever... just... to give 'er a chance." Lee didn't seem prone to divulging any real details about the situation, though that was due more to her own current self-loathing than the fact that she was talking to a "stranger." Her voice quivered as she continued. "That's why it don't matter if it hurts. B-but... but I can't... die. I can't lose. If I do... then he'll..."

And she trailed off, her gaze moving away from Eluard to once again rest on one of the walls. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, closing her eyes for a moment as she fought off tears. She really was tired of crying. After a moment, though, she finally offered a piece of concrete information.

"My name's Leann. ...I just go by Lee, usually. A-an'... I ain't got a reason to say nothin' ta no one about you. S'not like anyone asks me anything, anyway."

[Eluard Verlaine]

Leann’s quiet blankness almost inspired Eluard to cease talking and just let her get lulled by inertia. His eyelids lowered somewhat when imagining what she must be feeling, and just slightly, dampened his own disposition, which usually hovered around a neutral emptiness he had long decided to stop analyzing. Every day he did what he thought he needed to do, not driven by passion or inspiration but pure obsession with purpose. It felt like such a long time ago that he woke up looking forward to something that made him genuinely feel alive that it was starting to feel akin to fairytales. The masked man didn’t know why such thoughts were passing through his mind as blue eyes observed the distant-looking girl a few palms away from him but they did. When she finally spoke he was relieved to be distracted from an incoming flashback from the past.

The shine in her eyes made his open just a little more, not especially unsurprised by the sudden outward emergence of emotion in her but the moment of raw exposure was short-lived and within the next moment he was considering her from behind a front that made it easier to go through his affairs in day or night. “You’re not a monster,” he contradicted lucidly but gently, as if he knew it for a fact or it was written someone on her forehead in ink only he could read and understand. The statement gave some sharpness to his eyes. He looked away, frowning at a private thought he could see when he wasn’t looking at anything. “Never let people tell you who or what you are.” There was no scold in his tone. It was plain and simple.

He didn’t need to reply to her question, he had just been fishing for details and was getting remarkably few. So she was here out of guilt, or due to a situation she had caused. His gaze returned slowly back to her as her words trailed off, leaving pieces of information fade before they were uttered. Because it seemed so hard for her to share the story, he decided to let her keep it. Eluard didn’t really need to know, although he was curious. Whatever situation bound her here would be irrelevant in another day’s time when his attack on MV would come. Her eyes were averted, missing the flash of retribution that colored Eluard’s orbs. Her pain hung in the air, mellowing the deeply hidden anger that seemed to awaken in him whenever he was thrust in confrontations with people like the arena boss.

Knowing he was exposing himself to danger but trusting the instinct that told him that it would be alright, he extended a hand towards her and placed a palm lightly on her damp shoulder. “You will not need to last forever in your struggle, Leann, just a short while longer,” he told her, got up and his hand also lifted from her shoulder, fist closing around the wetness in his palm.

Apparently having said and heard all he desired, the blond man started walking away from the wet girl on the bench, but stopped after three steps to look back over his shoulder. It seemed he was leaving her with the vest. “I will not say farewell, but I will say good luck. We will meet again sooner than you expect.”

And maybe sooner than he expected as well.


((Read the plot page just as I was about to post this lawl. If Leann doesn't interfere in his "departure" from this thread, we can move onto the surprise hospital meeting?))