I don’t know what it is with you and Ak, but something’s different. In a good way? Oh, yeah. The best way.
@j-amiemcarthur

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@christopherbites
I don’t know what it is with you and Ak, but something’s different. In a good way? Oh, yeah. The best way.
@j-amiemcarthur
Chris had almost recovered from his little dance with death. He was hoping to focus on something fun like revenge any day now, especially against his new brother. That cheap carbon copy had been on his mind since he'd escaped the underground. When Percy wasn't plaguing his thoughts, Jamie McArthur was. He wasn't keen to let his hubris be the end of him anymore, he should take her more seriously. After all, how many more times could she try to tear him apart before it took?
He was lost in thought, itching to kill something, and maddened by what had happened to him down there. They hadn't killed him. Why hadn't they killed him? He might have fallen down that rabbit hole for the rest of the day if he hadn't caught a glimpse of dark hair on the corner. What the hell...? Was this what they'd done to him? Chris was sure now that he had lost his mind because before his very eyes, stood Cecelia Emerson. Cece. His... she was dead, though. Long dead. Something uncomfortable stirred in the hollow of his chest as he blinked, waiting for her to disappear.
"I've lost it...," he murmured, his feet carrying him towards her. She wasn't real. Couldn't be. Couldn't be real. @c-eceliaemerson
It was rare for Annelise to care about, or well even notice to be honest, the fellows residents of Montgomery Manner. Yes, sure, they were all on the same side, but most of them were just so...annoying. Chris, of course, was the exception, and she was sure that he knew that. Fine, maybe it had taken her a bit to notice that she hadn't seem him recently, but she was a busy girl. But, once Annelise noticed, it did bother her. Not enough to actually go looking for him, but still, she did wonder where he was. And then, he was back, looking beyond wretched.
"Christopher Andrews," she replied, taking in the sight of him. "I'd ask where you've been, but from the state of you, I'm guessing the answer is nowhere good."
"That's me," he sighed, leaning against the wall of the manor while he looked over at her desperately. They were both here, right? This was real. Chris needed to sink his fangs into a few hundred necks to forget about what had happened to him. What had happened to him? He shook his head, focusing instead on her. Chris had always appreciated Annelise. She was cutthroat and she was fun. She was the sort of vampire that could get your long dead, unfeeling, heart going again.
Yeah, he would focus on her. "I was kidnapped," he started, letting out a laugh at hearing it outloud. "By my surprise, bastard brother, who is... drum roll, please!... another fucking vampire. He sold me out to the Resistance so fast, it'd make your head spin off."
I am not most people.
Jamie's breathing was shallow and she was struggling to get enough air with him in such close proximity. It was making her dizzy, clouding her judgement. Why did he have this effect on her? Why was she still holding his hand against her cheek? Why did it not disgust her? Why did it not horrify her? "I promise." The words came out in a whisper, sounding more like a declaration of love than a death sentence.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, neither making any sudden movements and neither showing any desire to pull away. Jamie almost thought she was imagining it when he spoke her name, but suddenly he was moving. Her hand gripped tight to the sword that was still by her side, and instinctively she thrust it forward into his gut, sure that he was leaning in for an attack–he was attacking, right?
Whatever Chris was going to do - kiss her or kill her - he didn't get the chance. Whatever moment was brewing dangerously between them was cut short (quite literally). As Jamie's sword!? thrust into his gut, Chris was thrust back into the reality of his situation. With a feral growl, he looked at her with murderous intent and... something else. Betrayal, maybe? He certainly didn't have time to unpack that, not if he wanted to ever see the light of day again. If he wanted to ever see her again, then he had to leave now.
With fangs bared, he tore the sword from his abdomen (what was that? Some sort of toy?) and threw it away. Chris grabbed her by the shoulders, eyes darkened as he wasted no further time before throwing her against - no, through - the door behind her. There were shouts behind him now, louder and louder. He would not die down here. Holding tightly to that singular notion, he ran faster than ever before in a bid for freedom.
Christopher Andrews was a mess, to say the least. His great escape was an increasing blur as he managed to surface, the sun blinding him as he ran faster than ever before. He was slick with sweat, face and clothes bloodied. He was free, though. Whatever they had done to him - because they had done something to him - didn't matter. He had escaped. Chris had seen his chance and he hadn't hesitated. He had outsmarted them, the whole damned Resistance!
He hadn't realised where he'd been going until he hit the walls of Montgomery Manor. But it wasn't until he saw her standing there, that he slowed down. "You really are a sight for sore eyes, Annelise Jacobsson." @little-orphan-annelise
At his words, Jamie's stare hardened, a fire blazing in her eyes at the nerve of him to assume that she would be worried about him. Those guards had dragged him away from her and she'd had no idea what they were doing to him, and... she had hated that. Chris belonged to her; whatever fate befell him should be inflicted by her hands. Still, she couldn't say the words to deny his question, opting instead to focus on his next words. "But they did something..." It wasn't a question.
Jamie didn't know why he was looking at her like that–like she was his salvation–but she couldn't even find the willpower to question it. Just days ago, she had wanted him dead–she still did–but he was different; fragile, exhausted, desperate. Taking this Chris down wouldn't be half as satisfying as tearing into him at full strength, but he was still dangerous–a fact she struggled to remember as his fingertips brushed against her cheek. Her free hand involuntarily reached up to grasp his, but she didn't remove it from her face. "You're alive." She didn't want to think of the implications of that question. "Even they know that right is reserved from me."
'But they did something...' He couldn't deny her words as they buried their way under his skin. They must have done something to him, right? Not everything they wanted to do but something. They hadn't managed to torture him for information, they hadn't put a chip into his head - had they? - but they had done something. Or had he escaped? Had he managed to escape before they could cut and peel away what parts of him they pleased. Chris' head was pounding, his eyes closing tightly as he tried to focus on Jamie. Her breathing, her heartbeat, her warmth as she grasped his hand. The promise in her words, the poison on her lips.
"You promise?" he whispered. Chris needed to run, now. If he wanted to continue being alive, he needed to claw his way out of this hell hole and return to the surface. He needed to get back home. So, why was he still here? With his hand still touching her cheek, he found himself saying her name under his breath like a prayer - like a plea - before he started to move closer to her.
Jamie had still been pouting over being kicked out of Robbie's room, but it wasn't like she couldn't still hear them chittering away about Isabel, and she still had his sword–small victories. She had considered just leaving them to it, but the gossip had been too juicy to walk away from, and Robbie would probably kill her if she took the sword with her or left it leaning in the hallway.
With her ears so focused on the room behind her, Jamie almost missed the sound of running footsteps coming directly towards her–almost. She had pushed herself off the door by the time that Chris Andrews rounded the corner, and the breath shot out of her in a gasp.
He was alive. He was free. Her name on his lips sent a shiver through her and her grip tightened on the replica weapon in her hand. The last time she had heard him say her name, he was screaming for her to help him–now it was soft and full of... hope? "Chris." His name slipped from her lips in a whisper as she took a single step towards him. He was a mess. "What did they do to you?"
'Chris'. Hearing his name slip from her lips without malice was enough to stop him fully in his tracks. He should be running, making a desperate bid for freedom before it was too late. There was no time to linger. A laugh fell from his lips at her question, "You worried about me? I don't... I don't know what they did." Chris felt exhausted for the first time in a very long. He hadn't had to fight to stay alive like this before. It was almost like he was human again. Almost.
He was looking at her almost pleadingly... He didn't know why. They had been hellbent on destroying each other mere moments ago. Jamie had torn his flesh, almost broken through his rib cage, tried to tear out his heart. She wanted him dead. He wanted her to want him dead. None of that mattered now, when he wasn't sure if he was alive anymore. He reached out for her, fingertips brushing her cheek as he stumbled closer. "Did they kill me?"
Chris wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to do it, all he knew was that there'd been an opening for him to run. And run, he did. In fact, he'd never run faster in all his life. Whatever these bastards had done to him, he was weaker than ever, feverishly sweating and unsteady on his feet. It didn't matter. He would heal, he would get better. He just needed to get out of here. There was nothing he needed more.
There was a trail of chaos left in his wake, distant shouts and barked orders about re-capturing him. His undead heart would have pounded as something akin to fear shot through his veins. Chris thought he wanted to dance with death, to feel something again, he was wrong. Oh, how wrong he was.
He rounded the next corner, disorientated and wild. He ran into the wall, groaning in pain as he regained his balance. It was then he heard it. The hitch of breath, the familiar heartbeat. With great effort, he looked over to her with... what? Hope? As if she were an oasis in a desert. "Jamie?" @j-amiemcarthur
#same
Juliette cocked an eyebrow at his statement, refusing to back away even when his hand lifted to her lips. Her eyes remained locked with his as she fought the urge to bite down on the finger that dared to touch her. It wouldn't cause him pain, it would do nothing to make him fear her... She was under no illusions of what would delight him, and Christopher Andrews didn't deserve to be delighted by her; No matter how brightly the fire within her burned at his proximity.
"Is that what you think of me?" Juliette reached up to swipe a finger along the underside of his chin, her other hand dangerously resting against his chest. "Sounds to me like a pathetic excuse from an inadequate man."
"That's what I know of you," he countered. Regardless of their humanity, or lack thereof, Chris knew the truth of that. Whatever they'd shared, whatever had burned between them, wouldn't be so easily diminished. It would always be wrong time, wrong place, though, wouldn't it? But he didn't much care. He pressed his chest against her palm, hoping she might reach inside and pull out the heart that still belonged to her.
He looked away then, a wry smile on his face as he hardly contained a chuckle. "That too."
Stephanie smiled pleasantly up at him, head tilted just a fraction. "Actually, I'm counting on the Resistance wiping out all three of you." The smile stretched into a grin, "A win-win-win, if you will." Even discussing his hopeful demise, she still found herself pressing closer to him, a hand resting on his torso. It was like her entire being craved the buzz of his emotions and she wasn't sure if the hand was reaching out to pull him in, or if her last brain cell was working hard to keep him away. "When they take you out, I hope I'm there to watch."
"Ouch," Chris grinned. "At least you're thinking big, Steph. It's a good thing you don't have to hold your breath over that one, though." He watched her with anticipation and excitement, raising an eyebrow as her hand rested on his chest. Whether she wanted him closer or dead, he could never be sure. "I hope you're there to watch too," he whispered. "In the meantime, though, you're welcome to try it," he started, leaning closer, "Take me... out."
Julian shook his head as Christopher kept talking; he was not even considering pressing the button. "I do see it, but unless I wanna end up dead on the floor, it's not getting pressed." He smiled as he looked at the other man. "It is nice to see you in a cage, I can't lie."
"Well, well... if it isn't the spare part," Chris greeted when Julian Cordoba replied. He loathed werewolves at the best of times, but Jacob Howell's merry band of misfits were especially annoying. "You should commit the sight to memory, I won't be in here very long. Best hope you're far away then, tail between your legs."
Her head tilted in amusement as he got as close to her as possible. "You know, you probably shouldn't be wasting your energy flapping your gums when I can't read lips." She pouted and shrugged, almost playfully. "Hmm..." Her attention turned back to the button and, after a moment of pretending she wouldn't, she pressed it. "Well, go on then. Before you burst a blood vessel."
Chris longed to break through the glass between them and rip her undead heart from her chest. His annoyance - his brewing desperation - sat just below the surface. He had to remind himself to remain calm. His chance to escape would come. They wouldn't leave him down here, he was too valuable. "Death becomes you," he said, resisting the urge to bare his fangs. There were many scathing, venomous, words he longed to throw her way. Instead, he asked - "Where is Jamie McArthur?"
The last thing Percy had expected to see today was a young shifter hellbent on taking Chris off the board. He had no idea what his brother had done to deserve this elaborate break out scheme, but he was tickled. It had been an effort to look like he was horrified with what was happening, making a show of yelling for the guards and slamming his hands on the glass, but internally he was captivated. Who was she? How deep was Chris' attachment to her? How deep was her attachment to him? This whole scene was absolutely delicious and he wasn't even allowed to enjoy it.
He watched with outward horror (inward delight) as Chris stood, holding the girl by the throat before propelling her across the room. His hand came down to slam into the glass again, but it was in the process of dropping into the ground and, in his distraction, he almost tumbled over it. He was free.
Percy's eyes darted between them and the door, his neurons firing faster than the speed of light. If he moved to unlock the door- with the intention of letting in the guards that were currently pounding on the other side- it might look like he was trying to escape. He would rather not have to talk his way out of that. Really, there was only one option. At full vampire speed, Percy whooshed over, grabbing the back of Chris' collar before his fangs could break skin and launching him to the other side of the room. He crouched beside the girl, supporting her head so she could look at him. "Are you alright?" That was when he felt it- smelled it- the blood now coating his fingers.
Time for another performance!
Slowly, Percy lifted his hand towards his lips, but closed his eyes and clenched his fist at the last moment, turning his head from her. His fangs were bared in a dramatic display of self-control as he made a point of showing the camera that he wouldn't dream of hurting an innocent girl. His fangs retracted and he backed away from the girl, turning his attention to his brother. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of Chris, pinning him to the floor. Unlike him, Percy hadn't been deprived of blood and whatever had been filtering into the adjoining cell, hadn't been released into his. He was still at full strength, and holding down this little twerp was barely a challenge. "Stay down."
@j-amiemcarthur
Jamie tilted her head back as his hand reached for her throat, not wanting him to get the upper hand, but not willing to back off. It was a foolish move; she should have taken the opportunity to run. The adrenaline was wearing off and exhaustion was hitting her hard. Her one chance to take him out and she had fucked it. She should have run. His touch was terrifyingly gentle- more gentle than she would have ever imagined him capable of- and his words... God, those words. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment, but she snapped them back open, refusing to break eye contact- refusing to feel... whatever she was feeling.
And just like that, his grip tightened, cutting off her oxygen as she was pulled upright. Jamie wasn't quick enough this time. Before she could even think of shifting to escape him, she was being thrust across the room and collided with-... Was that the control panel? Pain shot through her entire body, her vision going in and out of focus as she lay crumpled against the wall. Scott's voice echoed in her mind as she tried- and failed- to get back to her feet.
'It’s him - just him, or you, and every poor asshole standing in his way while he tears himself out of here. All because you believe that you, and you alone, have the guts to do what professional, goddamn adults can’t.'
He was going to escape and it would be entirely her fault. What had she been thinking? Who was she trying to fool? The spiralling internal monologue was cut off by Chris lunging for her, fangs bared, and she closed her eyes... only, nothing happened. Suddenly, hands were holding her so tenderly, lifting her head to get her attention. Jamie's eyes opened and a gasp escaped her as a beautiful man asked her if she was alright. "I-..." She was struggling to focus on him, but as his fangs extended and his eyes darkened, she was horrified to realise that he looked like him. And then he was gone.
@kxllercarmen
Here's the thing: Carmen wasn't going to let Jamie McArthur die. There was a certain risk factor, sure. She'd made it more than clear that she was willing to take the hits to get the job done. Carmen respected that, and she wanted to give Jamie a chance. Was it "ethical"? Was it "protocol"? Was it what the "Institute 2.0" was striving to achieve in this new world? No. But it was effective.
If the prisoner hadn't held Hostile 0622 - Christopher Andrews - back, Carmen would have decapitated him herself. Simple as that. The door practically exploded open, and she was barking orders with ease. "Take him to the sublevel, maximum security. Tell Xav it's now or never, I want him ready to go. And do yourself a favour - knock him the hell out before taking him down. No one wants to hear it." She eyed the prisoner with suspicion as the team rolled in to take care of Chris Andrews. "And what the hell are you doing?"
Glaring a moment longer, she turned to ignore them both and headed over to Jamie. She kneeled down, face and tone suddenly softening as she looked down at her. They were so close and there was so much commotion, no one else would hear them. At least, no one important. "You did good, McArthur." And she meant it, too. Jamie might not have been able to finish the job, but she'd given it a hell of a shot. This had been her shot, though. As far as Chris Andrews goes, this was it for her. "Gotta let my boys have him now."
@christopherbites
Chris growled in frustration as he was suddenly thrown across the room by his damned baby brother. They'd known each other for such little time, and Chris already wanted to murder him. As Percy pinned him to the ground after tending to Jamie, he snapped and struggled to no avail. Chris was feral, and trapped. When the men-in-black burst into the room, Chris felt panic build in his chest again - unwanted, unwarranted panic. A moment of humanity, a flash of fear. A weakness.
He started to thrash again, but it was no use. They'd weakened him and Jamie had taken what was left. 'Take him to the sublevel'. Chris might not have known the specifics of how they operated, but he knew it was thoroughly unpleasant. Whatever they'd done to Charlie, was most likely only the tip of the iceberg. He was going to die down here.
"Don't let them take me, brother," he said in a ragged whisper, tightening his grip on Percy, but it was no use. The agents were dragging him to his feet, moving to take him from this room to further down into the bowels of this hell. Before they could drag him kicking and screaming, he shouted - desperately - to her. "Jamie! Jamie! Ja---," his words were cut off by a syringe to his neck, his vision already blurring. His words were scrambled, hoarse and nonsensical, as the world suddenly blinked out of existed and he collapsed.
@p-ercyandrews
Jamie couldn't think, couldn't process the surrounding information. There was only Chris and her, and her useless hand that wasn't strong enough to do what she needed it to; she wasn't strong enough. She felt like a child having a tantrum, kicking and screaming at the mall because her parents wouldn't buy her an ice cream. She roared until she couldn't- until her throat dried out. She pushed into his chest until she couldn't- until the muscle in her arm went limp. It wasn't fair!
And he was laughing.
His hand gripped hers and pulled, mocking her with an attempt to help. Jamie could feel her fingers sliding in deeper, but the ache in them made her sure that if he kept going, it was more likely that her bones would break before his. Her gaze was full of venom as she stared down at him, breathing heavily- panting, even. She tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine when he called her baby, convincing herself that it was disgust, but pressed up against him like this, she was struggling to formulate a coherent thought.
The pain in her wrist as he tightened his grip and tore her from his chest, snapped her somewhat back to reality. A whimper escaped her as her bones threatened to shatter under the pressure, but she held her position mere inches from his face. "Like you?" Jamie scoffed, leaning impossibly closer, their noses brushing, as she spoke through gritted fangs. "I abhor you. I detest you." Her other hand seized his jaw, claws gently imbedding themselves in his skin. "With everything that I am, I loathe you, Chris Andrews."
In all the time that Chris' humanity had been off, he hadn't felt quite so alive than at this moment. He hadn't been close to someone like this... maybe ever. Jamie couldn't kill him, despite giving it everything she had, and yet she stayed planted in her fury. Her breath was ragged, bloody lips and fangs mere moments away from his own. Chris had felt empty, forever seeking something to make his heart feel like it was beating again, his blood pumping like it had to again. Jamie McArthur got the job done.
His laughter quietened as she leaned even closer, deadlier and more impressive than ever. It was excruciatingly intimate. As her venom poured into him, he wondered if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Chris couldn't focus on anything else. He had no idea if the Institute were about to break in, he hadn't given one thought to his new brother, who was watching this performance from the front row. No, Chris only saw her. Only felt her. Her claws pressed into his skin and he reached for her throat, but he was just as gentle. "That sounds like the beginning of a love story," he said in a low voice, just for her. "Not the end."
A minute or an hour could have passed between them as their eyes locked. Then, suddenly, Chris' grip tightened, and he was back on his feet with Jamie in tow. She was thrilling, yes. Delicious. A drug he could see himself succumbing to. But the facts remained, he had to get the hell out of here. With that, he threw Jamie with all that was left of his strength, and she hit the wall, hard. Something had broken, he could hear the electrical sparks of broken wires, but it didn't matter. He didn't notice that Percy Andrews' adjoining cell had opened, he was too focused on her. "But I've been wrong before," he said, moving to pounce and finish this before it had a chance to become ruinous.
@p-ercyandrews
Her whole body tingled when he screamed in pain. She had done that; she had hurt him so badly that he had to cry out. She wanted him to make that sound again. The accusation bellowed through the room and Jamie couldn't stop a delighted, sadistic laugh from escaping her lips. His fury thrilled her. His tousled hair, the gleam in his eyes, the fangs... thrilled her. Maybe when she was back in her bed later tonight, she would unpack all of these twisted thoughts, comb through them one at a time to analyse what the fuck was wrong with her, but for now, she was content to ignore it all in favour of her adrenaline high.
After sweeping his leg, she swiftly stood upright, but it still wasn't faster than him. He was back on his feet before she could even catch her breath. There was a brief moment where they were both just standing there, staring at each other. Jamie was alarmed to realise that she could have stayed like that for an eternity; watching him watch her, the anticipation of what was to come. She had never in her life felt anything so raw, and aggressive, and... passionate.
Chris charged at her, and she did the only thing she could think to do- drop. The momentum of his attack sent his body stumbling over her and she grabbed him from below, flipping him fully over so that his back was to the ground. This time, however, she pinned him in place, straddling him for extra support. Jamie knew that she should shift- her body was screaming at her to- but she wanted him to look into her human eyes when she ended him. Fangs bared and hair falling down towards his face, she released a feral growl before sinking her clawed hand into his chest; only... she could only force her way in through is ribcage up to her knuckles, and no amount of screaming could give her the strength to get further.
There was a brief moment when they both stood, staring each other down, her breath coming sharp and fast. It was like music to his ears. Chris rarely felt as if he were prey, but now... he did. Her eyes were burning, her pretty features turned animalistic, as his blood dripped from her claws. Chris thought she was devastatingly beautiful. Mercilessly enchanting. A face he could enjoy being the last thing he ever saw on this mortal coil. With all that in mind, he still wanted to kill her.
Charging at her had been a mistake, one she quickly rectified by throwing him to the ground. Before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground, unable to look away from her. He could feel her heart racing, her blood pounding. The adrenaline that coursed through her veins felt like it was coursing through his. This was it, the big finish. He wanted it. Even as he screamed in protest, sounding more like a dying animal than anything else, a part of him welcomed it. Jamie McArthur could have him.
The feral growl echoed in his head, her hair cascading around him as she bared her teeth and plunged her claws into his chest. He couldn't look away. She was magnificent. And then... nothing. Searing pain, yes. She was desperate to get her hands on his heart, yes. But she couldn't do it. Suddenly, a delighted and unhinged laugh erupted from Chris' lips. It was loud and chilling, and entirely genuine. "Oh, baby," he choked out, bloody grin on his face, "You just can't let me go, can you? Come on. Come on-," he punctuated it by grabbing tightly to her wrist, pushing her hand, but not enough to kill him. His grip tightened more then, yanking her hand from his chest with a pained growl. "I knew you liked me."