Post by Brooklyn on Jul 30, 2018 2:36:26 GMT
His voice seemed to echo around her on still nights like these; “Hey, Brook …” he’d begun, looking down at the manuscript and wondering what on Earth they’d be doing in her room. “What’s this all …” he’d started to ask - but it was then that he noticed what she’d done. She still saw it every time she closed her eyes. The gleam of the dagger and the ease at which it pierced, parted, and penetrated. Poor Richard, the look on his face, that moment when it seemed to dawn on him what was happening just as the light went out in his eyes.
She’d practiced the Gaelic to ensure proper pronunciation, the thought of Richard’s sacrifice being in vain because she couldn’t roll an ‘r’ properly crossed her mind. She was done; the calling finished and now she waited. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath until her lungs began to ache from the lack of oxygen. As time slowly passed she began to worry that she’d done something wrong, insulted the goddess and squandered her opportunity. How was she supposed to explain Richard’s body then? Would they believe it an accident?
No.
Dean would see straight through that. He knew the path that she was embarking on and the sacrifices that sometimes need to be made in order to court the powerful. To that point he had been the one to steer her in the direction of this particular goddess; almost as though she’d been hand-picked for Brooklyn already, but Dean wasn’t ready yet to introduce the pair.
Had this all been one huge fuc....
“H...hello?”
She’d couldn’t describe it, but she felt the presence wash over her. It was like someone was standing too close behind her, hot, wet breath down her neck. She was terrified to look, unsure of what she was bound to see. In fact, she instinctively closed her eyes - perhaps now hoping that this being would leave her alone.
“Child, for one who seems to have gone out of her way to get my attention I would have expected more genuflecting and less cowering.”
Brooklyn shuddered, the voice seeming to be coming from mere inches beyond her ear. She could almost feel the rush of air as it exhaled. It was a woman’s voice; not threatening, but powerful. Brooklyn instantly knew that she was not in control here.
“I … I in...voke the Morrighan, goddess of battle and war. I …” she trailed off as she felt the presence sweeping around her, now feeling as though standing directly in front of her. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed tight; the fear of the unknown overpowering any inquisitiveness that she may have felt.
“Yes, you certainly did. Child, why do you hide your eyes? I would not strike you down for gazing upon me.”
Brooklyn’s eyelids twitched, her mouth curling into a small smile for a moment. “I, uh, I heard that’s how people are possessed … through, you know,” she strained, “through their eyes.” Brooklyn fell silent for a moment as the Morrighan seemed to absorb the information.
“Child, if I wanted to possess you I would simply do so. I am not some silly demon or poltergeist that needs ‘rules’. I have given you fair warning, invited you to open your eyes. I am not one to be trifled with. Open your eyes that I may see with whom I am dealing.”
Brooklyn, hesitant at first, slowly cracked her eyes and allowed them to readjust to the dim light of the space. While she’d expected the Morrighan to be standing millimeters from her own nose, she was pleased to see that the goddess was, instead, making her way around the room look at the odds and ends found there.
Brooklyn was taken aback at the goddess’ appearance. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the fiery woman before he took her breath away. Dressed in leather the darkest green she’d ever seen, the goddess seemed less like the hulking battle god she’d expected and much more roguish. Her leather corseted top was hidden well beneath a mid-thigh length overcoat adorned with colors and patterns that hunters would have killed for. Her dark boots, a mottled brown, came up to her calves and were fastened with buckles and straps. A small, almost demure, crown of feathers and small bones sat atop hair so black it nearly appeared purple. On her left shoulder sat a crow; it’s button black eyes watching Brooklyn’s every move and passing its silent judgement.
“I … uh,” she continued, still taken aback and in shock that this actually worked. Brooklyn knew that she had to take her time, play by the goddesses rules and not rush into anything.
“I’ve been watching you, child” the goddess said, turning her head to look at some knickknack that caught her eye in the room, but maintaining eye contact all the while. “You have fought bravely, valiantly, but sloppily.”
Brooklyn instinctively looked down at her feet.
“You have the heart of a warrior, child. But you hide your true nature behind a thin veil of half-truths. What would your brethren say if they knew how you courted a goddess tonight? What of the lengths that you took to invoke me?” The Morrighan looked to her left where Richard’s body was still propped upright, the silver dagger protruding from the crimson circle on his abdomen. “There was no hesitation, no mercy. You did what you needed to do in order to reach your intended destination. This is what caught my attention. As the goddess of war it is my duty to watch the various fields of battle. You and your ilk,” she smiled, “you are like nothing I’ve seen before. Consorting with all sorts of creatures; deals being made in order for ends to be met. Truth be told, I’m insulted that I was not invoked sooner. Though,” the goddess says, reaching and picking up a small wind up toy, observing it for a moment before turning her piercing blue eyes back on Brooklyn, “I was surprised that it was you who called for me in the end. I would have imagined your Rowan, a child with whom I am already familiar, would have been the one to invoke my assistance.”
That hit Brooklyn like a punch to the solar plexus; of course, even the goddess preferred Rowan to her. Why shouldn’t she? Rowan had taken the company by stom a year ago and ran through each and every woman who stood in her way.
“I digress, what is it you wish to discuss?” The goddess seated herself in a chair as Brooklyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other for a moment, choosing her words carefully.
“I want victory.”
_____________________________________
“It begins with a breath …” she says, inhaling through her nose and letting the air fill her lungs – holding it there until it began to hurt. Slowly, she pursed her lips, exhaling with a small hiss as her nose brought in fresh, crisp air to her aching lungs. “It never gets old, but it’s something that many people take for granted. They never stop to think that there’ll ever come a day when they’re without that sweet oxygen to fill their lungs. Each breath we breathe is a gift, not to be taken lightly. You never know when your next breath will be your last; cherish each one like it could be your last.
I do.
I’ve taken far to much for granted over the years. I thought that I was untouchable; hell, after the upbringing that I had you learned to toughen up or you didn’t make it out of middle school. All those breaths, never a second thought. Through it all, though, I’ve learned that these ‘gifts’ aren’t just given freely. No, you have to earn them; earn each and every breath that you take.
I do.
Through all of the pain, all of the suffering; through the blood, the sweat, and yes - even through the tears, I have earned each breath that I take. Looking back on my life before IWF, I was lost in the world. Running from myself and unable to find my way. I was a lost lamb in need of a flock …
a Pack.
They found me, took me in and gave me shelter. They put the pieces of my broken life back together and for that,” she smiles, “I am eternally grateful. But you see, within every pack the members must learn to survive on their own. If we are going to be unstoppable together, we must be unbreakable individually. There must be no weak links within our chain lest the whole falls apart. Since joining this family, I have fought tooth and claw to not be that weak link. I have refused to be the reason for the family losing, failing, falling apart. I look into each and every one of their faces and I see the future. Not just the future of this company, of this industry, but of this country.
We are the outcasts; living on our Island of Misfit Toys and trying to do right by She who has handpicked us. The Wolf Mother, our goddess Rowan. It was for her that I originally began my journey towards what was once the Diamond championship. Sidelined by those who I once looked up to, those who under different circumstances I could have considered friends. You were there Pandora; you and your husband were both there when my Lady was ripped apart, broken like a china doll.
You may not have been the one to pull the trigger, but you’re just as guilty as the rest.
Time has healed most wounds, but unlike some of my family, I have not found forgiveness in my heart. I am coming for you Pandora; and I will have my revenge. You see, in all the time that you’ve spent away from the company, I have grown. The timid girl, unsure of herself or her place, is gone. In her stead is a woman uninterested in listening to reason or excuses. The landscape of IWF has changed greatly in such a short amount of time. Women who once ruled this company with an iron fist are no more; forgotten.
Your Paige Garcia’s.
Your Eternity’s.
Your Jessica Reed’s.
Even women like you, Pandora, women who were supposed to usher in a new era, ‘the next age for IWF’. After all your success, all your hard work and dedication, in the end even you have been forgotten. Yet, here you are again ready to throw caution to the wind and try and recapture that spark that once propelled you to the top of the mountain where you ruled.
I’m here to extinguish that spark, Pan - because IWF is no longer your company; it’s ours. There will be no recapturing lightning in a bottle for you, not now - not ever. Much like the often neglected, Ms. Charity Crowne.
For someone who entered this company with such potential it must be absolutely devastating to see what you’ve actually accomplished. You, much like Pandora, were supposed to usher in the next wave of female talent in IWF. You were the ‘crown jewel’ of the Diamond in the Rough tournament and yet, this would also be your greatest success. Since then you’ve tripped, stumbled, and fallen from grace like so many archangels. For all your bravado, all of your talk, here you stand once more … the third wheel - the extra; unwanted and unneeded. Your place in this match is as puzzling as it is problematic. You are, once more, a representation of everything that was wrong with the previous generation of what used to be known as IWF Diamonds. Women who would get title shots for no apparent reason time and time again.
We’re looking at you McFly.
What have you done to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity to vye for the Women’s World Title? Outside of sneak attacks and playing the victim, you’ve done nothing of note, Charity. As such, you will find no venom aimed in your direction because you haven’t earned my attention. Your pathetic ‘Best Friend Club’ will rue the day they came knocking at the door of the Little Bad Wolf; because you best not huff and puff if you can’t knock me down.
But you? You will be knocked down. Then, then you will be raised back up only to be knocked down once more. Again, and again, Charity until you’re begging to stay down - pleading for a moment’s reprieve. Then, and only then, will I give you that reprieve; three heartbeats of one Charity.
Boom-boom
Boom-boom
Boom-boom
Only then will it be over and you may rest. Until then, rally around those you care about because Charity … Pandora ...
a storm is coming. Gather your tribes. Cherish the breaths you still have left."
_____________________________________
“Victory?” the goddess responded, a small rise in her voice. “You can achieve ‘victory’ on your own, you’ve done so to this point. No, child, I know the question that you hide in your heart.”
Brooklyn dug the toe of her right boot into the concrete floor as she thought about what the goddess meant. “I’m facing down an opponent who could end my career ....”
“And,” the Morrighan interrupted, “you are currently facing a goddess who is beginning to grow weary.”
Brooklyn nodded her head. “Right, well I guess this upcoming match, er, battle” she said so as not to offend the goddess, “I’m going up against this viking -”
The Morrighan said something in Gaelic and spat on the floor but Brooklyn continued, “So this viking and I are set to do battle. I’m at a clear disadvantage here; she’s bigger, stronger, and meaner than me. I … I just need an edge to help me to, uh, vanquish her?” She wasn’t sure how to end that statement, but she hoped for the best and just waited while the goddess regarded her. When the Morrighan next spoke, Brooklyn felt her voice all around her … inside her.
“Brooklyn Maddox, you are an enigma. You have so much untapped potential within you, but lack the wherewithal to find the door, let alone unlock it. I will help guide your hand in this battle, but you must allow me complete control. Give yourself to me without hesitation or fear and I will steady thy hands and strike down any that stand before you. I will remake you in my image, a Battle Raven; a woman who is blunt, rough, and most of all violent. Together, you will see your enemies driven beneath your boot; their terror only feeding you and making you stronger. Will you give yourself to me Brooklyn Maddox? Will you serve as the vessel for a goddess?”
Brooklyn thought of Rowan, of Dean. Had they made the right move when they went down this road themselves? There was no turning back now. Even if Brooklyn had trepidation, she was in far too much over her head to escape now. “I do”, she squeaked. The Morrighan simply smiled before vanishing. “Huh,” Brooklyn began, “I guess that wasn’t so …” she was suddenly doubled over in pain. It felt as though her skull was suddenly three sizes too small. She nearly blacked out from the pain that could only be equated to another person trying to climb into your body while you’re still occupying the space. Brooklyn slowly pushed herself up to her knees, having found herself on the floor. She felt, different; stronger perhaps. Wobbly legs threatened to give out, but didn’t. In the end she was back on her feet and staring down at her fingers which seemed to cast a dark haze as she moved them. In her head she could tell that she was no longer alone - just behind her eyes she could feel like someone else was looking out with her; looking at the still body of Richard, his eyes still open and taking in the scene that had unfolded in front of him.
“The sacrifice was appreciated, but unnecessary.” Brooklyn said, though she suddenly realized that it wasn’t she who said it. As she walked over to the body she reached out, and whispered softly, “Now is not your time, brother. Arise once more so that you may fall in battle as I have already seen.” As Brooklyn wrapped her hands around the silver dagger and pulled, Richard sat up straighter and gasped for air. He collapsed to the floor as Brooklyn seemed to get back in the driver’s seat.
“Richard …” she started, her hands on his upper arms as she helped him back to his feet, “I … I’m”
Richard looked at her, a mixture of fear and hatred on his face. “N-no!” he said, his voice rising steadily. “Get away from me, monster! I … I thought you were different, Brook; I really did. But,” he looked down at the stain on his shirt, his finger playing with the hole but finding only smooth skin beneath, “you’re no different than the others in the Pack are you? How … how could you?”
Richard wrenched himself from her grasp and ran for the door. He didn’t bother to look back, but by then Brooklyn didn’t care - she was too busy thinking about which door she was going to unlock first.
She’d practiced the Gaelic to ensure proper pronunciation, the thought of Richard’s sacrifice being in vain because she couldn’t roll an ‘r’ properly crossed her mind. She was done; the calling finished and now she waited. She hadn’t realized that she’d been holding her breath until her lungs began to ache from the lack of oxygen. As time slowly passed she began to worry that she’d done something wrong, insulted the goddess and squandered her opportunity. How was she supposed to explain Richard’s body then? Would they believe it an accident?
No.
Dean would see straight through that. He knew the path that she was embarking on and the sacrifices that sometimes need to be made in order to court the powerful. To that point he had been the one to steer her in the direction of this particular goddess; almost as though she’d been hand-picked for Brooklyn already, but Dean wasn’t ready yet to introduce the pair.
Had this all been one huge fuc....
“H...hello?”
She’d couldn’t describe it, but she felt the presence wash over her. It was like someone was standing too close behind her, hot, wet breath down her neck. She was terrified to look, unsure of what she was bound to see. In fact, she instinctively closed her eyes - perhaps now hoping that this being would leave her alone.
“Child, for one who seems to have gone out of her way to get my attention I would have expected more genuflecting and less cowering.”
Brooklyn shuddered, the voice seeming to be coming from mere inches beyond her ear. She could almost feel the rush of air as it exhaled. It was a woman’s voice; not threatening, but powerful. Brooklyn instantly knew that she was not in control here.
“I … I in...voke the Morrighan, goddess of battle and war. I …” she trailed off as she felt the presence sweeping around her, now feeling as though standing directly in front of her. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed tight; the fear of the unknown overpowering any inquisitiveness that she may have felt.
“Yes, you certainly did. Child, why do you hide your eyes? I would not strike you down for gazing upon me.”
Brooklyn’s eyelids twitched, her mouth curling into a small smile for a moment. “I, uh, I heard that’s how people are possessed … through, you know,” she strained, “through their eyes.” Brooklyn fell silent for a moment as the Morrighan seemed to absorb the information.
“Child, if I wanted to possess you I would simply do so. I am not some silly demon or poltergeist that needs ‘rules’. I have given you fair warning, invited you to open your eyes. I am not one to be trifled with. Open your eyes that I may see with whom I am dealing.”
Brooklyn, hesitant at first, slowly cracked her eyes and allowed them to readjust to the dim light of the space. While she’d expected the Morrighan to be standing millimeters from her own nose, she was pleased to see that the goddess was, instead, making her way around the room look at the odds and ends found there.
Brooklyn was taken aback at the goddess’ appearance. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but the fiery woman before he took her breath away. Dressed in leather the darkest green she’d ever seen, the goddess seemed less like the hulking battle god she’d expected and much more roguish. Her leather corseted top was hidden well beneath a mid-thigh length overcoat adorned with colors and patterns that hunters would have killed for. Her dark boots, a mottled brown, came up to her calves and were fastened with buckles and straps. A small, almost demure, crown of feathers and small bones sat atop hair so black it nearly appeared purple. On her left shoulder sat a crow; it’s button black eyes watching Brooklyn’s every move and passing its silent judgement.
“I … uh,” she continued, still taken aback and in shock that this actually worked. Brooklyn knew that she had to take her time, play by the goddesses rules and not rush into anything.
“I’ve been watching you, child” the goddess said, turning her head to look at some knickknack that caught her eye in the room, but maintaining eye contact all the while. “You have fought bravely, valiantly, but sloppily.”
Brooklyn instinctively looked down at her feet.
“You have the heart of a warrior, child. But you hide your true nature behind a thin veil of half-truths. What would your brethren say if they knew how you courted a goddess tonight? What of the lengths that you took to invoke me?” The Morrighan looked to her left where Richard’s body was still propped upright, the silver dagger protruding from the crimson circle on his abdomen. “There was no hesitation, no mercy. You did what you needed to do in order to reach your intended destination. This is what caught my attention. As the goddess of war it is my duty to watch the various fields of battle. You and your ilk,” she smiled, “you are like nothing I’ve seen before. Consorting with all sorts of creatures; deals being made in order for ends to be met. Truth be told, I’m insulted that I was not invoked sooner. Though,” the goddess says, reaching and picking up a small wind up toy, observing it for a moment before turning her piercing blue eyes back on Brooklyn, “I was surprised that it was you who called for me in the end. I would have imagined your Rowan, a child with whom I am already familiar, would have been the one to invoke my assistance.”
That hit Brooklyn like a punch to the solar plexus; of course, even the goddess preferred Rowan to her. Why shouldn’t she? Rowan had taken the company by stom a year ago and ran through each and every woman who stood in her way.
“I digress, what is it you wish to discuss?” The goddess seated herself in a chair as Brooklyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other for a moment, choosing her words carefully.
“I want victory.”
_____________________________________
“It begins with a breath …” she says, inhaling through her nose and letting the air fill her lungs – holding it there until it began to hurt. Slowly, she pursed her lips, exhaling with a small hiss as her nose brought in fresh, crisp air to her aching lungs. “It never gets old, but it’s something that many people take for granted. They never stop to think that there’ll ever come a day when they’re without that sweet oxygen to fill their lungs. Each breath we breathe is a gift, not to be taken lightly. You never know when your next breath will be your last; cherish each one like it could be your last.
I do.
I’ve taken far to much for granted over the years. I thought that I was untouchable; hell, after the upbringing that I had you learned to toughen up or you didn’t make it out of middle school. All those breaths, never a second thought. Through it all, though, I’ve learned that these ‘gifts’ aren’t just given freely. No, you have to earn them; earn each and every breath that you take.
I do.
Through all of the pain, all of the suffering; through the blood, the sweat, and yes - even through the tears, I have earned each breath that I take. Looking back on my life before IWF, I was lost in the world. Running from myself and unable to find my way. I was a lost lamb in need of a flock …
a Pack.
They found me, took me in and gave me shelter. They put the pieces of my broken life back together and for that,” she smiles, “I am eternally grateful. But you see, within every pack the members must learn to survive on their own. If we are going to be unstoppable together, we must be unbreakable individually. There must be no weak links within our chain lest the whole falls apart. Since joining this family, I have fought tooth and claw to not be that weak link. I have refused to be the reason for the family losing, failing, falling apart. I look into each and every one of their faces and I see the future. Not just the future of this company, of this industry, but of this country.
We are the outcasts; living on our Island of Misfit Toys and trying to do right by She who has handpicked us. The Wolf Mother, our goddess Rowan. It was for her that I originally began my journey towards what was once the Diamond championship. Sidelined by those who I once looked up to, those who under different circumstances I could have considered friends. You were there Pandora; you and your husband were both there when my Lady was ripped apart, broken like a china doll.
You may not have been the one to pull the trigger, but you’re just as guilty as the rest.
Time has healed most wounds, but unlike some of my family, I have not found forgiveness in my heart. I am coming for you Pandora; and I will have my revenge. You see, in all the time that you’ve spent away from the company, I have grown. The timid girl, unsure of herself or her place, is gone. In her stead is a woman uninterested in listening to reason or excuses. The landscape of IWF has changed greatly in such a short amount of time. Women who once ruled this company with an iron fist are no more; forgotten.
Your Paige Garcia’s.
Your Eternity’s.
Your Jessica Reed’s.
Even women like you, Pandora, women who were supposed to usher in a new era, ‘the next age for IWF’. After all your success, all your hard work and dedication, in the end even you have been forgotten. Yet, here you are again ready to throw caution to the wind and try and recapture that spark that once propelled you to the top of the mountain where you ruled.
I’m here to extinguish that spark, Pan - because IWF is no longer your company; it’s ours. There will be no recapturing lightning in a bottle for you, not now - not ever. Much like the often neglected, Ms. Charity Crowne.
For someone who entered this company with such potential it must be absolutely devastating to see what you’ve actually accomplished. You, much like Pandora, were supposed to usher in the next wave of female talent in IWF. You were the ‘crown jewel’ of the Diamond in the Rough tournament and yet, this would also be your greatest success. Since then you’ve tripped, stumbled, and fallen from grace like so many archangels. For all your bravado, all of your talk, here you stand once more … the third wheel - the extra; unwanted and unneeded. Your place in this match is as puzzling as it is problematic. You are, once more, a representation of everything that was wrong with the previous generation of what used to be known as IWF Diamonds. Women who would get title shots for no apparent reason time and time again.
We’re looking at you McFly.
What have you done to prove yourself worthy of the opportunity to vye for the Women’s World Title? Outside of sneak attacks and playing the victim, you’ve done nothing of note, Charity. As such, you will find no venom aimed in your direction because you haven’t earned my attention. Your pathetic ‘Best Friend Club’ will rue the day they came knocking at the door of the Little Bad Wolf; because you best not huff and puff if you can’t knock me down.
But you? You will be knocked down. Then, then you will be raised back up only to be knocked down once more. Again, and again, Charity until you’re begging to stay down - pleading for a moment’s reprieve. Then, and only then, will I give you that reprieve; three heartbeats of one Charity.
Boom-boom
Boom-boom
Boom-boom
Only then will it be over and you may rest. Until then, rally around those you care about because Charity … Pandora ...
a storm is coming. Gather your tribes. Cherish the breaths you still have left."
_____________________________________
“Victory?” the goddess responded, a small rise in her voice. “You can achieve ‘victory’ on your own, you’ve done so to this point. No, child, I know the question that you hide in your heart.”
Brooklyn dug the toe of her right boot into the concrete floor as she thought about what the goddess meant. “I’m facing down an opponent who could end my career ....”
“And,” the Morrighan interrupted, “you are currently facing a goddess who is beginning to grow weary.”
Brooklyn nodded her head. “Right, well I guess this upcoming match, er, battle” she said so as not to offend the goddess, “I’m going up against this viking -”
The Morrighan said something in Gaelic and spat on the floor but Brooklyn continued, “So this viking and I are set to do battle. I’m at a clear disadvantage here; she’s bigger, stronger, and meaner than me. I … I just need an edge to help me to, uh, vanquish her?” She wasn’t sure how to end that statement, but she hoped for the best and just waited while the goddess regarded her. When the Morrighan next spoke, Brooklyn felt her voice all around her … inside her.
“Brooklyn Maddox, you are an enigma. You have so much untapped potential within you, but lack the wherewithal to find the door, let alone unlock it. I will help guide your hand in this battle, but you must allow me complete control. Give yourself to me without hesitation or fear and I will steady thy hands and strike down any that stand before you. I will remake you in my image, a Battle Raven; a woman who is blunt, rough, and most of all violent. Together, you will see your enemies driven beneath your boot; their terror only feeding you and making you stronger. Will you give yourself to me Brooklyn Maddox? Will you serve as the vessel for a goddess?”
Brooklyn thought of Rowan, of Dean. Had they made the right move when they went down this road themselves? There was no turning back now. Even if Brooklyn had trepidation, she was in far too much over her head to escape now. “I do”, she squeaked. The Morrighan simply smiled before vanishing. “Huh,” Brooklyn began, “I guess that wasn’t so …” she was suddenly doubled over in pain. It felt as though her skull was suddenly three sizes too small. She nearly blacked out from the pain that could only be equated to another person trying to climb into your body while you’re still occupying the space. Brooklyn slowly pushed herself up to her knees, having found herself on the floor. She felt, different; stronger perhaps. Wobbly legs threatened to give out, but didn’t. In the end she was back on her feet and staring down at her fingers which seemed to cast a dark haze as she moved them. In her head she could tell that she was no longer alone - just behind her eyes she could feel like someone else was looking out with her; looking at the still body of Richard, his eyes still open and taking in the scene that had unfolded in front of him.
“The sacrifice was appreciated, but unnecessary.” Brooklyn said, though she suddenly realized that it wasn’t she who said it. As she walked over to the body she reached out, and whispered softly, “Now is not your time, brother. Arise once more so that you may fall in battle as I have already seen.” As Brooklyn wrapped her hands around the silver dagger and pulled, Richard sat up straighter and gasped for air. He collapsed to the floor as Brooklyn seemed to get back in the driver’s seat.
“Richard …” she started, her hands on his upper arms as she helped him back to his feet, “I … I’m”
Richard looked at her, a mixture of fear and hatred on his face. “N-no!” he said, his voice rising steadily. “Get away from me, monster! I … I thought you were different, Brook; I really did. But,” he looked down at the stain on his shirt, his finger playing with the hole but finding only smooth skin beneath, “you’re no different than the others in the Pack are you? How … how could you?”
Richard wrenched himself from her grasp and ran for the door. He didn’t bother to look back, but by then Brooklyn didn’t care - she was too busy thinking about which door she was going to unlock first.
Well howdy there pardner.