Bloody Murder || Coralynn, Hunter and the Potens Invictus
The Potens Invictus strikes again.
There was no reason to look in the shadows for the people of New Rome. Well, there was, but there was also a delightful lull in human paranoia after a large event like the Dominus. People had been walking scared, investigating every corner and nook and cranny before they slept in their beds at night. They continued the habit until things calmed down. Like now. The wedding and the events surrounding it had long passed. Time for another little something to get people to keep on stepping. A dark figure lurked in the shadows. The Potens Invictus. Sharp eyes darted between the laughing faces of the passers by, though there were very few of them at this hour. Just beyond the time most got off from work, and just when the figure knew the target would be heading home. He, the target that is, walked down the streets with a little limp. That little detail would bring sympathy from most, but to the victims lurking company it only made him an easier target.
As Hunter stumped through New Rome he could think of nothing else but the impending issues that he was facing with Martina and Teagan. He wished he could go to Zach about this. But after everything that had happened they weren't exactly on the best buds list. The whole dilemma made his head spin. Whether or not he should take the baby was a difficult call. He was trying to juggle the affections of four people and one of those people hadn't even been born yet. This was a real mess that he had gotten himself into and he didn't see any way out. He had dug himself into a deep hole and was in desperate need of a ladder. So to give himself time to think he limped on at a leisurely pace. If his only problem was the pregnancy that his beta was having then the rest of his life was going swimmingly and he was relatively content. For now at least. Though he was far from ready for what was going to come next.
It had to be timed perfectly. Hunter might have lost a leg but that didn't mean he could be overlooked. After all, what would be the point in killing someone who could just be overlooked? This early in the game that would be an idiotic move, and the Potens Invictus wasn't fond of those. Silent counting went on in the dark figure's head, the different sounds the legs made making it easier to pace movements. It would have to be just after Hunter had crossed past the dark, shadowing alleyway. Enough space that he wouldn't see from his side eye, and not so much that other people could see. Really, an alley was a sloppy job. Still, Hunter's shall we say predicament at home did come into play. Martina, Zach, Teagan, any number of people could stop by the cripple's home. It was too risky and too personal. The alley at this exact time was the best shot at killing him and having him go missing for a while like the others. It was a calculated risk the figure was willing to take. The beat happened and two hands shot out from the shadows, moving quickly and practiced to pull Hunter into them and to the ground. The element of surprise was on the figure's side, and Hunter's throat was met with the crushing weight of a knee. Hopefully that would work two ways: cut of air, and to cut of a scream. Just in case, two hands clapped over his mouth as well.
The jerking motion that wrenched him to the floor was both unexpected and terrifying. Before Hunter knew what was happening the floor was rushing up to meet him and he could taste blood in his mouth. He made a gasp for air, but found that his oesophagus was blocked. He was effectively pinned in a dark alley and he could barely breathe. He couldn't really breathe at all and all he could think about was Teagan and how she would survive another loss. He wasn't going to let that happen, he wasn't going to let her go through that. There had been a single moment where he had considered not fighting back, allowing it to happen and rejoining Gabe, and their mother, in the Underworld. It would be peaceful and he knew he'd be happy-ish. Though the thought of Teagan forced him to fight and with a feral roar that was a little bit choked, he drew the claws on his fingers and slammed them into the thigh of the figure crushing his windpipe, ripping flesh from the thigh and for a brief moment giving him enough respite to take a deep raged breath.
The dark figure that was the Potens Invictus hissed in pain. An outcry would be too loud, but already the torn flesh meeting the air gave the alley a metallic smell and stung deep. Going into this, there were two possibilities. One, the less likely of the two, that Hunter would succumb without a fight. Life was hard for everyone but this man felt it more than others. Loosing a twin like another half, loosing parents, loosing a leg, loosing a pack, etc. Surely the Underworld would be tempting and ideally he'd go towards that temptation. Of course, damn evolution and survival instincts made Hunter pick option two and fight back. How annoying and tedious. The dark figure pulled back and put a hand on the wound without much though. The deep red blood dampened the black clothes, and the dark figure gave Hunter a moment to get a breath back. There was silent triumph at the sound of his ragged breath. Now, Hunter had been a good little tragic hero and gone with option one, it would have been a clean kill through suffocation. Alas, his will to live made plan B come into effect. Plan B was a knife strapped to the hip of the dark figure. The only reason it was plan be is because blood left traces, and as previously mentioned the ideal way to go about things is to have a nice little mystery of 'oh no where's Hunter?' Then someone finds him dead in a lake or burned in the hills. Either one. Blood, though, suggests he's already dead and there's no suspense and how boring it that? Alas, here they were; Hunter taking in ragged breaths and the dark figure coming back at him with a knife, which hit it's target. It sunk into the cripple's eye, certainly blinding him and adding the possibility of larger internal damage and bleeding to death. What does it matter the injuries so long as he dies? It'd probably be best to burn his body, upon further thought. That way the struggle might be less obvious to the common people.
Immediately, Hunter had stumbled up off of the floor where he had been pinned and scrambled away from his assailant, he was still gasping for air and his eyes were glowing a deep crimson. Discovery of what he was, wasn't a priority to him right now and despite the fact that he would normally have never risked this, he bared his teeth and growled at his assailant, daring him to come closer. The darkness helped whoever this was and in the dim light of the shadows Hunter could barely see him. He sucked in shallow breaths that hurt his throat as he pulled them down into his lungs. But there was no chance of a quick escape and it was late in the evening, no one was coming to his aid just yet. He tensed up, readying for the impending fight and worrying as he saw the flash of a blade. He wasn't equipped to fight someone who was armed and clearly well trained. But it wasn't as if he had any choice. Lunging forward Hunter went to slash at him with his claws, it seemed like the only thing to do, but he wasn't fast enough and whoever this was easily circumvented his attack, slipped beneath his defence and drove the tip of his knife into his right eye. The blade ripped through his eye and though Hunter thought he had experienced real pain before when he had lost his leg to the Chimera he was wrong. His hand instinctively flew up to his eye and he howled at the pain, it radiated through him in shockwaves of agony, his body immediately went cold and if Teagan had been there then she would have told him that he was going into a state of shock. He could feel warm thick blood spilling out of the wound and trickling down his face, Hunter stumbled backwards, his hand had wrapped around the blade and somehow he wrenched it away, leaving deep cuts on his hands as he did but he threw the knife away from him. His end was near, he knew it but that didn't matter. He could fight better if his assailant wasn't armed. But the pain and the loss of blood was so great that he could barely stand and he howled again as he collapsed against the wall and tried to fight to keep standing.
There weren't many nights Cora had trouble sleeping, though it wasn't unheard of for her to wander the streets late at night once a month or so. There were times when she simply awoke in the wee hours restless and unable to return to sleep. After the first few times such disturbances had happened, she'd taken to walking the empty streets of first her hometown, and later New Rome. There was something about the stillness of a sleeping town that fascinated her, how a city so full of life and excitement could seamlessly shift into something else entirely once the sun had deserted the sky and the people had followed suit in the forsaking of the outside and conscious world. Most nights were quiet. This one was too. Suddenly, the blanket of silence that covered the shadowed buildings and alleys was broken with an unmistakable sound of pain. From the sound of it, the person who had made it wasn't far off and almost immediately Cora was spurred into a sprint towards to find the source of the suffering. One turned corner later, she was met with the scene of who appeared to be Hunter, though a severely injured one, and a hulking, dark mass looming over him. Without thought, she placed herself between the crippled Hunter and the other figure, at the ready should the person across from her choose to attack. With it unclear whether or not this person was the attacker or had malignant intent, she started off on the defense.
Premeditated murder takes a good deal of commitment. Place yourself in a murderer’s shoes. First, there’s a reason, or the motive. Largely important for those moments of uncertainty, this is usually the way people get convicted. To get convicted, one must be first caught, which brings about point two. The amount of thought that goes into the execution of the murder is tremendous so as to not get caught. Movements are thought out, murder weapons and clothes and disposal. Everything’s planned, so when some daughter of the Big Three walks in and thinks she can just spoil the plans by standing there? Rage, a motivator greater than that of the original answer to the motive, filled the veins of the dark figure. The smell of the copper blood in the air would have taken on the quality if it could, Hunter’s infliction still seeping blood. The figure had more weapons, but there was something about a hand on hand fight that was satisfying. That’s how his defines on Cora was approached. First, the Potens Invictus moved slightly to the right so the attack on Cora would come at her left. This wasn’t to play on her weaknesses, though that was an added bonus, but more to get her less in the way of Hunter. The guys was surely close to dead. A couple kicks, punches, stabs, it wouldn’t take much to kill him. The figure came at her suddenly, using the obvious training in violence to get in some hits and avoid as many as possible. Good thing there was rage and forethought working for the murderer, while Cora was probably working more on adrenaline. Hopefully some fear too. That’s where the mistakes would come in. One of those mistakes came in and all the figure’s instantaneous strength was used to throw were against the walls of the alley and get back to Hunter. There would only be a moment with the victim, so it was important that every second counted. The need to get his throat completely inoperable prevailed, and a harsh black boot came crashing down on Hunter’s throat in that one moment there was. Then the attention went back to Cora.
She should've attacked immediately. That much was obvious as first Cora's back slammed against the wall, soon followed by a thud that sounded the back of her head connecting with the bricks the strange figure had thrown her against. The trickle of warmth running down her skull was enough to tell her that at least skin had broken, and a headache broke out instantaneously. Before, she had been wary. Now, she was mad. Who the hell thinks it's OK to go around stabbing eyes, stomping throats, and cracking people's heads open? Her adrenaline spiked further, lending her the ability to overcome her injury for the moment. Her body preparing for either fight or flight she chose what, to her, was the only option. Obviously she wasn't going to flee and let Hunter be murdered. Fight it was. With an annoyed growl, she drew her sword (always handily situated on a chain around her neck in miniature form) and made a pass at the black-clad figure. Aiming first at his right shoulder, she brought it down in a diagonal motion in hopes of slashing him diagonally. At the same time, she called to the water in her camelbak pouch in preparation for possibly having to use it. This fight would be over quickly if she had anything to say about it. With Hunter possibly bleeding out on the ground, he needed immediate attention, attention she couldn't give him if she was busy trying to fight off someone who apparently thought Halloween had come early and had taken it upon themselves to dress up in a ridiculous outfit.
This girl was just getting annoying. She crashed a perfectly good meeting between two reasonable adults, and now she was bringing in tricks and weapons. The dark figure had brought in weapons too, yeah, but that was… Different. More calculated and less ‘let me save the day like the amazing person I am.’ Point is, Cora was now in the way. The dark figure was not going to kill her though. Not now at least. Was there some daydreaming about killing her violently and tediously? Of course. But it wasn’t her time. Her death right now would have little to no point, and therefore not with the calculating and intelligent M.O. of the Potens Invictus. Especially now that this had already gotten a little too messy for the murder’s taste. No, that’s not right. It had gotten a little too messy for their convenience, not taste. This was an appetiser, and if you overindulge on that the main course won’t be nearly as enjoyable. The figure twisted in the shadows in a narrow avoidance of the sword. Cora was good with a sword, the dark figure before her only narrowly avoiding her attack to keep from a serious injury. The figure gave an absent thought to Hunter. He was probably on his way out, right? Bleeding from his hand and his eye, severe throat issues and breathing things on top of that, maybe some internal damage behind the eye too if the stars were on the shadow’s side. Who knew if they were but the doctor who would work on him (or maybe the coroner). Either way, Hunter was mostly dead and if he wasn’t it wouldn’t be entirely too hard to just finish him off. Cora was annoying, too. Time to take advantage of one of the many reasons that this was a good spot for a murder and make an escape. The figure ran down deeper into the alley, giving Hunter another little nudge towards pain and death by running on his hand with a satisfying ‘crunch’ on the exit out. Cora wouldn’t be in tow. She just wanted to fix Hunter’s injuries and probably her own head, too, if Hunter and whoever this was weren’t the only ones adding to the sharp smell in the air. The figure disappeared into the shadows from which it came, going off into the night and leaving the bloody carnage behind with nothing but a little smile.
The young woman had been ready for a full-on fight, so when the dark figure fled Cora was the smallest bit taken off-guard. On further inspection, it made sense. Obviously the person wanted to keep their identity hidden, and the best way to do that was to keep interaction at a minimum. It didn't matter at the moment. She was simply thankful the mysterious assailant had gone and now given her the opportunity to look after Hunter. Hastily, she dropped to her knees and leaned over Hunter to take in his injuries and assess which was threatening his life most. The water she had withdrawn was still waiting eagerly for her command, and instead of using it for it's original purpose, battle, she used it for just the opposite, healing. His eye seemed to be the biggest problem as it was still gushing blood. Bringing the cool water to the gouged socket, she focused hard on the wound, willing it to knit together and at least stop anymore more blood from escaping there. Many months had passed since the first healing she'd ever done to a fellow demigod. It had been in that wretched Gorgon's cave on none other than Dexter nearly seven months ago. Since then, Cora had trained hard at learning how to use the healing property of her abilities, and she was satisfied to see that Hunter's eye was sealing closed. A new eyeball seemed to be out of the question, she hadn't the faintest how to go about creating entirely new tissues full of complex nerves and cones and rods or whether she could even do such a thing. Once his eye was sorted, she moved on to his neck. Most of the damage there seemed to be internal, yet another area where water was little help unless the person being healed one was a child of Poseidon or Neptune. Still, Cora could implement the water there to help bring down the swelling and hopefully alleviate some of the pain. With Hunter's condition hopefully stable, she drew herself out of the determined focus she'd been immersed in and spoke. "Hunter, Hunter can you hear me? I've got to get you to the hospital."
It all happened too fast for Hunter to comprehend. One minute he was sure that he was on his way to the after life. The next there was someone in between him and his attacker. The mixture of blood, pain, shock and of course the blanket of darkness between them all had meant that he hadn't been able to tell who this was. But as Coralynn's face came into view he sucked in a ragged breath and winced as she began healing him. It was not a fast process and it was painful. But it stopped the blood and he for a second thought that his eye might be fixed. He was dead wrong. When she was done he opened his eye and was terrified and mortified to find that he was indeed still blind in the right eye. Completely devastated he sat against the wall and couldn't help but think of his leg. His brother. His mother. His old pack. His old friends. Hadn't he lost enough in this life? This wasn't a Greek tragedy. Maybe it was. Now it seemed to be more of a tragedy than anything. Teagan was going to have to deal with having someone even more impaired in her house. He was heartbroken and devastated. His head was out of it and when Cora said something he almost ignored it for a second. "Uh what," he said, his voice was rough and husky and he rubbed his new eye gently. "Hospital? Yeah ... sure." Teagan was going to see him like this again.
As soon as Hunter went to touch his empty eye, Cora felt a surge of inadequacy for being unable to restore he demigod's sight in his right eye. "I'm sorry," she said somewhat hesitantly. "Maybe- maybe they'll be able to do better at the hospital?" Without further adieu, she looped an arm around him to assist him in standing. "I don't think we're too far. Are you alright to walk or should I try and call for another person?" Trying a few steps in the correct direction, she didn't bother healing herself at the moment. Having already used a good amount of her energy on fixing Hunter, she didn't want to risk passing out by closing the wound on the back of her head. Besides, it was more annoying than fatal. It was only a few steps later that she spotted something gleaming in the moonlight. A knife. Covered in blood, it could most definitely be the attacker's. Excitement filled her at the prospect of having a clue as to this mysterious man's identity, and she plucked the blade from the ground. As soon as she could, she'd recount these happenings and present the Order with what she had found. For now, Hunter needed medical attention.
With three deaths the Potens Invictus begins solidifying their position in New Rome’s Cult Of Romulus.
The best time for a subtle, quick few assassinations was when the room was already in chaos. At least, that is the opinion of a certain antagonist. To be fair to them, though, no antagonist really believes they are the antagonist. Protagonist would feel more appropriate, but seeing how that is a completely different psychological question and issue, maybe just referring to them as an assassin would be the most realistic. Quite appropriate, as well. In the view of the Assassin, the classic method of assassination, which would be to go into someone’s room when they were alone and shoot them in the back of the head, or stab them or strangle them, whatever worked, was flawed. It took far too much work, and already there was a surefire way to narrow down suspects. Who could have gotten into the room, who left forensics, alibis, questioning, perp line ups, etc. There was an easy and practically textbook way to go about things. Any kid who watched television and was permanently scarred by the horrible things they say on Law and Order would know at least where to start with an investigation. In a crowded room, however, when everyone was worried about a god and a little girl, anyone could have started killing people. Any of the hundreds of demigods at a wedding reception. The victims would all be touched by different people, and to question every person in the room would be a nightmare and give the killer ages to perfect their lie of a story. It wasn’t the perfect crime, since really that crime really doesn’t exist, but it was quite close.
Plus, when you’re looking to kill three people, it’s far more convenient.
The first person to fall was no one in particular on the surface level of things. A girl, younger than mature but older than immature, who was standing at the sidelines. She was focused on the bustle in the room, and she didn’t notice someone approaching her with the intent to kill her. To be respectful of the dead, who would? Truth, is, no one would unless you were someone terribly important. Don’t worry, there is no plan of debunking the theory produced by loving mothers everywhere; everyone is in fact special. Those mothers would probably agree that not everyone is assassination level special, though. The lesson here is don’t stand alone at parties, kids. It might make your life’s aspiration of becoming assassin level important come true, but those flowers on the tops of coffins are a pain to get your hands on. Not very cheep, either.
A gloved hand went over the girls mouth, and her eyes went wide. For a moment, her healthy heart started pumped hard, fast, and strong. She would live a long happy life, should this night have never occurred. A blade quickly went in and out of her throat, killing her and her healthy heart quickly and quietly. She slumped against the assassins chest, and her body was quickly taken out to a car and dumped in the trunk to be revisited in a few moments.
Killing someone when they were going to the bathroom really was the easiest. A casual sink conversation ending with a knife slashing their throat was really the kill of the night. Possibly not the most impressive, but certainly the most fun. The other two were secretive, quiet, calm. They had to be, lest someone see. This one was quick, and the sound of their conversation dying in the demigod’s now sliced open throat was really one that couldn’t be compared. Truly a moment to remember. The assassin took the victim out a bathroom window that created not only very nice natural lighting in the day but also the best way to get away from a date if it wasn’t going well. It was very useful to the assassin, too, because walking out of a bathroom with a dead body in your hands really would qualify as a little suspicious. The second victim joined the first in the trunk of the car, both to be revisited again with one more friend.
Save the best kill for last. He was sitting at a table, a wine goblet that had been refilled more than a couple times getting a well deserved rest on the very beautiful tablecloths, and his table company seemingly pretty attached to him. Still, in a moment that a god came down with the intent to kidnap a little girl and some very important people went to protect her, attachments faltered. More than that, attention to detail faltered. Every eye at that table at the edge of the room, along with every other set of eyes in the room, was on the grand event. It gave a gloved hand the perfect opportunity to cover his mouth and let a blade pierce his throat in the same place it had the first victim’s. His pulse, which had already been dragging from the wine, came to a stop. The assassin expertly and quickly extracted the man from his table and took him outside, all unseen by his company. He was put in the trunk, to bounce and bustle as the car came to a start and drove off.
The Assassin smiled as the location picked to leave the bodies grew nearer. The night was really wildly successful. The killings had to happen, and soon too, but they had no idea they would be assassinating today. It was just another lesson to all the children out there. Be prepared, because you never know when a beautiful opportunity is going to present itself and you’ll need to be ready to kill some people. Write a princess story with that moral, Disney. Teach the real lessons.
People who weren’t going to the wedding were mostly lurking at home, and it left a catalogue of places to take bodies. The original plan had been to burn them, but that was the plan when the assassin was going to go with the classic assassination method of breaking, entering, and killing. This opportunity was just so beautiful in so many ways that they could settle for dumping the bodies in the lake. It was another step in the process that had to go quickly, which the burning wouldn’t have required, but again settling for dumping the bodies was an amicable decision. No complaining from New Rome’s resident assassin.
The three bodies slipped into the lake beautifully, poetically even, and the car jumped to a start again as the assassin drove off. Never let anyone demote the wonderfulness of a sense of accomplishment. It’s better than anything else, and it brought another smile on the Assassin’s face. They wanted to revel in the small victory, the start to something good. Really the most extravagant way they wanted to celebrate their victory was to write a message to the gods in the sky. Well, one god in particular.
Dear Apollo,
We make a truly wonderful team.
Sincerely yours,
Potens Invictus
Tyler walked into the infirmary and looked around, looking for someone to help him find Zion's room. He asked an aid to lead him in the right direction, lying and saying he wanted to visit his dear friend and make sure he was okay. When he walked into the room however, no one was inside. He looked around the room, trying to figure out if anyone had come to visit him or if there was any evidence on why he left the room. While he was looking around, he heard people coming. He quickly looked for a spot to hide and saw a vent right above the bed. He quickly hopped onto the bed and moved the vent, crawling in quickly and shutting it behind him, laying down in the vent. It would be hard to notice him and even if they did, all they would see were two small eyes. It was the perfect hiding spot.
Walking was just about the only thing that Zion could manage on his own. Both of his arms were broken and breathing was labored and painful because of the three broken ribs that he had received at the hands of Brennan the day before. He was on plenty of pain killers and had been drinking lots of Nectar, his doctors told him that it would take two weeks for his arms to heal on the cocktail of Nectar and Morphine he was on. His arms were in cast and he was feeling incredibly fuzzy. "May, when are you going to arrest the piece of shit that did this to me?" he asked as he walked back into the room and sat down. He had plaster up to his elbows and doing anything was very painful.
May led Zion into his room with a look of pure disgust on her face. "He'll be taken care of, Zion. You need to worry about yourself right now." She eased him onto the bed and looked over him. "One second." May turned around, walking over to the threshold and making sure the hallway was empty. She locked the door and brushed her hands through her hair. "This is getting old. You're letting yourself get abused and used like a god damn Woody doll. Look at yourself! You let him do that to you? Don't feed me the bullshit that he's the son of Hades, you're charmspeak is more than enough."
Zion rolled his eyes at May, apparently they were going to be having this conversation right now. "You know why I couldn't retaliate, I've got to make it look like my Charmspeak isn't that powerful otherwise they are going to work out what our real motives are. If they work out what are real motives are then we're done." He shook his head, he was tough and he knew it, he had held his father in his hand, the only person that he had ever truly loved or cared for and he had watched him die for him. He paused for a second and shook his head, "besides in this case letting myself have the shit beaten out of me was far from voluntary. He knocked me out from behind and then I was tied up on a pole in the middle of the arena and began to beat the living shit out of me." He shook his head and sighed, "this definitely was not voluntary."
May looked over Zion again and sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Jesus, Zion." She turned around, pacing the room. After a minute she sat down in a chair and crossed her legs. This had to be looked at as a normal crime. May truly did want to see Brennan face justice. This wasn't what a demigod did to a demigod. This wasn't how Romans handled their disputes. Zion was an asshole, she knew that, but he was also her partner, and a true Roman. "He'll be put away the jail cell, Zion. That is a simple fix. When he gets out he'll have stricter duties. If any more problems continue, we can look into expelling him from camp." Her eyes moved to Zion so they were staring at each other. "Possibly . . . killing? Do you think that would be a . . . necessary move?"
Tyler listened to the two and was trying to understand how they were even talking at the moment in the first place. He had never seen Zion and May together, so why the hell was she visiting him? By the way their conversation sounded it sounded like they had discussed Brennan before. As they got into detail about Brennan, Tyler was ready to jump out of the vent and yell at them to stop. He wouldn't let them kill Brennan, or even expel him. It couldn't happen, it wasn't fair. Zion deserved what he got, and although Brennan may have done a bit too much, he didn't deserve to be expelled or killed. Killing someone was pretty extreme. Tyler kept quiet though, he had to. His presence wasn't currently known, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Zion frowned at May, sighing gently and shaking his head. "Let the centurions and the Praetors take care of him, let him get in jail for a couple of months and let him rot there, by the time he gets out it will be too late for him or anyone else to stop us. We've nearly done it May, we're nearly there and once we've achieved our goals we will be in control of New Rome. Our people are already in place, we've got control over the Order, Dorian and Jax rule the Legion now and soon I'll be able to control the Cult of Romulus. We're nearly there and we don't need to ruin it all by killing him, so no I don't think that killing him is a necessary move. We just need to plan our next steps carefully, we eradicated the two traitors at the ball, they were going to go to Kirohov and expose us and now you've dealt with her, we're still on track."
May continued to thread her fingers through her hair, eyes slowly closing. "He is a son of Hades though. I think we're being tried by the Fates. Jason Grace suddenly surfaces. Percy Jackson decides to start stepping up. We have a new daughter of Pluto, though I don't see much in her. But Percy, Annabeth, Jason, and if Brennan decides to help them, that will be a powerful team. I'll watch out for Annabeth. Now that Dorian is praetor, I feel there may be a rift forming between the loving pair." She frowned, not totally happy about all the inner turmoil being caused. "This was never meant to go smoothly though," she said to both herself and Zion.
Zion shook his head and sighed, "it doesn't matter, once we've got Reyna in our grasps then there is literally nothing that they will be able to do. They may risk doing something when we're in control of one of their friends but two I wouldn't put it past them, plus you've got to realize that they don't know we're the dominus. No once we have Reyna and Frank under control we can make it clear that Reyna and Frank are actually the Dominus through your investigation. Adelaide has all the evidence ready." He paused for a moment and shifted in his bed, "as for Annabeth and Dorian they won't be much of a problem, I'm more worried about Percy and Jason, they've dealt with this sort of thing before and I think they are our real problem. They might need to be a victim of an attack."
Tyler actually couldn't believe what he was hearing. Zion, he expected to be up to some evil shit, but May? May was a leader, someone the camp trusted, and to find out that her and Zion were to Dominus? That was insane. People had searched for weeks for the Dominus, and they were here this whole time. At the mention of Adelaide, was she part of the Dominus too? Was it a group? Once they left, once he could get out, he had to go tell someone. He had to get these people arrested.
May stood up and started pacing again, though this time she was calmer about it. "Dorian will be too weak with his relationship unstable. It'll be easier not just to charmspeak him, but coax him without your powers. Jax we don't need to worry over, he'll go along with what we say. Well we'll have to frame them before anything happens, because something will happen. Those two demigod heroes will be our biggest problem. So you're right, we attack them. But with what . . . is it possible that when you're better, you could raise a few lycans from up north to come here? Or other monsters."
Zion thought for a moment and shrugged. "Dorian I can handle, we'll just have to inject a bit more instability into their relationship, that is something that I agree with entirely." He paused for a moment and sighed gently once more, still in a lot of pain but his mind was becoming clearer. "Framing them is our next move, then once we've done that we can handle Jason and Percy, I think that something underground should do the trick, that will stop anything too dangerous coming from it. They won't be a threat and then we can begin shaping the city how we want, beginning of course with the isolation and eradication of those who aren't worthy. We're going to build a new world order, I'm sure I can contact our benefactor and see what monsters they can provide us with, that should help with further enforcement when it is necessary. Though I want you to keep a closer eye on the members of the Order of Remus. They were all loyal to Natasha and after that whole ordeal where you were forced to end her life, well I don't want them discovering that and getting out of hand."
May smirked. "Dorian, as loyal as a dog. Guess we know though who he's more loyal to. I can work on Annabeth, that won't be trouble." May nodded at everything he said. They'd been over the plans numerous times. Now it was just like reciting from a manual. Though when he brought up Natasha, her face turned hard and her eyes became cold. "Let's not talk about her." She knew what he had done. It was forced murder, without her consent. But Zion had brought it up before and she knew that Natasha was suppose to die on the boat. "You should rest."
Zion nodded gently. "I'm going to try and sleep a little, meet with Adelaide and inform her of the changes and as usual be careful." With that May left the room and Zion took a sleeping pill. A couple of minutes later he was asleep.
Tyler waited a while after May left, making sure that Zion was asleep. It would be pretty awkward if he tried to get out of the vent and Zion was still awake. Once he was sure he was asleep, he slowly opened up the vent and looked down. If he just jumped out he would land on top of Zion, so he crawled out, still holding onto the ceiling and flung himself, letting go of the ceiling and just missing Zion, landing on the floor. He walked over to the door and slowly opened it, walking out and slowly shutting it to make sure Zion wouldn't wake up. He then ran off to find someone, anyone to tell what he had just over heard.
This Hit, That Ice Cold || The Dominus and Natasha
The Dominus pays Natasha a little visit in her hospital room.
Natasha had been laying in bed for over a week now, her demi-titan physiology healing her and stopping her from dying. The infirmary staff had told her friends, family and parents that she was lucky to be alive. The last three days she had gotten better than she had ever been. The wounds on her back were finally begin to heal and she was actually getting better. She was conscious more and more, and actually starting to get better. They had practically had to restrain her with hospital bed straps to stop her from getting out of bed to command the Order in dealing with the monster attack. As she had gotten better she had ordered for her guard to be lessened. Now she was anxiously sitting in bed, reading through reports and trying to catch up on paperwork.
The Dominus stepped out from the shadows and into the room slowly. A long black clocked hid any skin that might be showing. Underneath for further concealment was a bulky pad of clothing. The mask did well to cover whether the figure be male or female. Their steps were light and quick, and when they came up to Natasha's bed side, a muffled voice came from behind the disguise. "You weren't part of the plan. You weren't suppose to die, not this soon." There was a strangled sound beneath the mask. "We will continue though, to move forward. This is a mere . . . distraction." The figure looked out the window. Did they mean the monsters, or this right here.
Natasha looked up, immediately tense at the entry of an unknown figure in her rooms. She didn't know how they'd gotten past her guards but she wasn't about to find out. She had a pretty good idea who they were, not their real identity, but knowing that they were the Dominus was not hard. At least. She thought that was who it was. Reaching under her bed she grasped her dagger and wrapped her slim fingers around it, keeping it hidden in case she were to need it. "Why don't you tell me what the plan is?" she asked, stalling for time, wondering who this was, if she could just rip the mask away she could learn the truth and stop this once and for all.
The Dominus knew what the leader of the Order of Remus would do. They'd watched this woman for so long, knew them inside and out. Natasha probably had a short hand weapon under the sheets. She may have cared what the actual plan was, but only asked to gain some time for herself. Anyone with half a brain would do it. "To see this city reborn. You would not understand." The shadow kept it's distance from Natasha. She would die, but she would die still ignorant of this persons true face. From under the cloak they brought out a dagger. This was it . . . this would be a milestone, killing the leader, finishing off Natasha once and for all. Their hands actually shook a little.
Natasha saw the dagger and was immediately out of bed and on her feet. Her own weapon in hand, she winced as she felt the wounds on her back tear open, but she didn't let the pain stop her. This was her time. She could do this. There was nearly no one in Camp who could stand against her, toe to toe in combat; Percy, Jason, Reyna, May, AJ and Adriana were the only ones she could think of, perhaps Annabeth. But she trusted all of them implicitly and knew that they would never hurt her, they would never hurt the city. "There is no need to do this, the city is doing just fine, can't you see? Can't you see that you're just hurting this city even though you claim to love it."
The Dominus again retreated a few steps. "We do love this city. It was our home when no one else took us or accepted us. But New Rome has become far too unclean and ridden with the wrong type of demigods. Not just Greek, the Romans have lost their way as well. In death you may understand, but not here. You should rejoice, for your journey will be one that ends in Elysium. You have done well, commander, but it is over."
Natasha flicked her dagger from hand to hand, "You don't love this city," she said viciously, stepping towards the door and trying to get out and to her guards and to protection. They could get this guy or girl. She couldn't tell which it was and either way they'd not end this night without a victory. She was so determined that she wouldn't lose. "You're wrong. You're completely wrong. This city has gotten only better and you'd know that if you really looked." She tossed her dagger back to her right hand and gestured. "But you won't listen to that, you won't listen so why don't we end this now. You and me, it is a fair fight, I'm injured so I won't go too hard on you, but I am going to kill you. That much I promise."
The Dominus glared, even though Natasha couldn't see. They shook their head and got into an odd stance, one that didn't look like they possessed Roman training. The figure pounced and went to slice Natasha's wrist with their dagger.
With slower reactions than usual Natasha tried to veer out of the way, but a mixture of the exhaustion she was facing from her body mending itself and the fact that she was on a cocktail of pain killers didn't help. She yelped in pain as the dagger slit her wrist and with a thrashing blow hit out at the Dominus, she didn't need to check to see if her counter had hit home. She knew that she had missed. Retreating backwards she moved back until she reached the wall and prepared for her final stand. Apparently this was it.
The Dominus dodged Natasha's attack and rolled onto the ground. Again The Dominus jumped up and went to stab at Natasha's heart. The final blow. Just one more cut was all they needed and it'd be done. Over so fast, so quick. The Dominus said something that was too quiet to be heard due to the mask.
Natasha groaned as she felt the knife pierce her chest. Blood began to pour down her hospital robe and she coughed as she slid down to the floor. She wouldn't be able to save New Rome, she wouldn't be able to stop The Dominus. She'd never get to see her mothers or her girlfriend ever again.
The Dominus used all their force to sink the blade in. There had to be a way to make this quicker. Natasha deserved something quick, not painful. She did what she believed was the right path. That was a false belief though. The Dominus drew a vial from their pocket and quickly poured it into Natasha's mouth. A liquid that should send her off much quicker than her dying heart would.
yousharknotpass
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
jbbartram-illu