Demolition Woman @ofhcstility - Tumblr Blog

hauntedghcsts:

Pope wanted everyone to calm the fuck down for a moment, but that clearly wasn’t possible. The girl was screaming like a banshee on his shoulder, Ali nearly had his nose ripped off, Lucky looked fit to pass out from the rage in his eyes, and the rest of the men looked like a herd of wild hyenas ready to pull her apart bit by bit. Clearly nothing was going to get done in this state. He hauled her back up, settling her a bit more firmly on his shoulder, heedless of the gouges she was putting in his skin. That was the least of his worries right now, and he quickly settled on a course of action.

Ali and Jesse’s trailer was the closest, and was currently empty, so he made a beeline to it, trying to avoid her flailing legs and windmilling bound hands hitting anyone else. While it still felt like his ears were bleeding from her, let’s say, stunning, solo he just needed to get her secure to talk down Lucky. Once his best friend was calmed down a bit, the rest of the men would relax. They followed Lucky’s lead perhaps even more than his.

The door was already open, and as Pope entered he looked about for anything she could harm herself with or destroy. He settled on Ali and Jesse’s room as the safest, as all she could do was tear up their blankets and sheets. He dumped her as gently as he could, holding her hands to the post bolted into the floor that made up the bed frame, melding the metal around it. The strain took his breath away, but he propped himself up against the door and took a look at her.

Her hair hung ragged about her face, her back and sides heaving as she let loose another string of words that would make even his Defan PawPaw bow his head in shame of hearing. Her legs thrashed wildly, trying to reach him as he took steps back out of her range before shutting the door and locking the front door as he stepped out of the trailer. He mouthed a quick sorry to Jesse and Ali, the former of which flipped him off, the later who waved it off. Pope looked back at the trailer, now rocking on it’s cinder block supports. He hoped she wouldn’t tear her arm off in her struggle. But now it was time to face the music with Lucky and the rest of the men.

“I can explain, mi cher.”

But how could he?

Jude had taken Lucky on a ride or two in their lifetimes. He'd seen the man at the bottom of the barrel, he'd seen him at the height of his energy and power, he'd seen him in charge and in the gutter. But he'd never seen this. The man that always was so cautious about not letting a threat into their camp was now hauling around a fun-sized atomic goddamned bomb. She was irradicating everything in her path. Heavy feet and flashes of red and if Lucky didn't know any better, fucking claws. Eviscerating what she could reach and Jude.. for what it looked like. Seemed to be protecting HER. It hit him like a ton of bricks. The ugly, undeniable similarity of Jude treating that feral destructive powder keg like something delicate. Like she was the victim, not the blast radius. He fell horribly silent as he watched Jude manuever her away from anyone she could hurt and walk the hell away from him. Fists slowly clenching as the throbbin, dull ache of the girl's boot in his chest hadn't even seemed to fade. Lucky was goddamn furious. Everyone else around him was either horrified or furious at the riot she was making. Amused or pissed at her actions. Lucky, however. Lucky was, for a moment, ripped back to a past that had happened and ended a long time ago. Wild ratty hair, a nasty habit of crushing everything like a sledgehammer. Far as he was concerned, she was the spittin' fucking image of Nev and nothing scared him more than seeing Pope's figure disappear into the trailer with her.

This was dangerous. This was more dangerous than any camp or rotter group they'd faced. It was way more dangerous than the 2 raiders they'd crossed paths with only days before. Because all of that, it didn't matter. It was paraphenalia and minor impacts. Abrasions and wounds that would jar the group but never shake it. This girl was somehow already in the camp, already in Jude's fucking head. Again. He couldn't believe he was looking at Jude's back again as that man walked away from him with some fuckin' girl over his shoulder. Nostrils flared and his lips flattened into a thin line as he stared in silence ahead of him, as if contemplating. Trying to put the plethora of shit he'd just seen into some semblance of order, before he heard a low cough behind him. Lucky turned, looking around at all of the men who had turned their attention to him, and snapped. A loud, hostile bark demanding they get back to work. Guard the perimeter, make sure no one heard, before he turned once more to the trailer. Crossing his arms, he waited in a stony, pensive silence. Though he seemed quiet and put together standing there, his true temper showed. The small puddles at his feet around the gravel where it most recently rained seemed to simmer and steam as if their chemical component alone had been changed. Small, crackling flashes of light occasionally flared around Lucky, growing larger and louder the longer it took Pope to come out of that trailer.

The moment Pope left the trailer, it started to weave and rock as if he'd locked up a couple of feral pitbulls. Though as far as Lucky could tell.. feral was on the nose. Anyone near the trailer recoiled in surprise at the change, but that wasn't exactly what was on Lucky's mind. Before Pope even began to make his way toward him, Lucky pushed off of the ground and started toward Pope at a determined, furious pace. The words were barely out of Jude's mouth before the hard impact of Lucky's open palms pushed hard into Jude's shoulders. It didn't seem to matter that the man was taller than him, Lucky gave him another hard shove. "What is this?! What the fuck is this Jude? I thought the idea was to get in and get out. No injuries! Peter had everything planned to the last detail. What the hell went wrong? Why is Colton bleedin' from his fuckin head?!" The crackles seemed to get more volatile as Lucky swung his arm back toward the group of men that looked almost like they'd half lost the raid instead of spectacularly succeeded. "She the cure for zombies, Jude? She the fuckin' queen of raiders? She lay godDAMN GOLDEN EGGS? Because those are the only batshit reasons I'd believe you'd lose your fucking mind and bring someone in screaming and hollering. Handcuffed?!"

Lucky's tirade slowed in a sharp, wheezing exhale as t he toll of his temper and power flares took him in a little. Feeling like he'd just run a mile. His eyes lifted, dark and confronting and met Popes. Lucky was making it god damned clear without a word that if Pope didn't give him some answers, there would be some fucking problems.

----

"Mother FUCKER!" Cassidy practically howled as the asshole left her chained up again. Immediately, she started to buck and kick and physically fling herself as far as she could into the opposite side of the trailer. Her voice breaking out in a sharp snarl at the low 'pop' she heard and felt. Shit, she'd dislocated her shoulder. Her struggles stopped for barely a second as she tried to relocate on her own, before a nearly silent rustle outside the trailer caught her attention. Her head snapped toward the door as she lowered herself to the ground.. barely making a sound. Until someone spoke. A sweet, young males voice. "Miss..? Are you ok?" It was quiet and half stammering, young and inexperienced and uncertain. For a moment, Cassidy remained silent. Pupils nearly slitted and heart thudding her chest. Then, she tilted her head and arched forward. "Help! H.. I'm bleeding.. I think I dislocated my shoulder. Please help!" She wanted to cry out, to use the full potential of the power a weeping woman had on a boy itching to be a savior. But she didn't know how close the leader was.. she knew he would stop this in a second. "Can you please.. please help me? I'm afraid." '

#HERE U GO BAE

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hauntedghcsts:

If she subsided a bit after he bound her to the bar behind the cab of this kitted out truck, it was all a ploy. Pope could understand that. Hell, if he was in her place, he would be using that moment to study everything he could too. And she was. It was quick but he saw it, even with the pain exploding behind his temples. Her eyes lost some of the feral glint to them, it still simmered beneath the surface, but he could see the wheels turning. She was goddamn clever as hell, just judging from the way she studied him. Her eyes drank him in, like Peter’s did, when he was taking in reports to formulate an attack. And then she attacked.

It started out slow, quiet, a rough whisky whisper that wouldn’t be out of place in a bar in Nashville. It sounded like Nev on her kinder days, when that demon from his past sung her half remembered Irish ballads in the haze of the room spinning around him in Pittsburgh. He couldn’t help the flinch, knew she could see it and quelled it. He steeled his features, if she was like Neveah, Pope would be ready for it. 13 years clean does wonders for one’s strength. Then she unleashed her entire voice. It grated on his nerves, she must have been aiming for that with how she belted out her tune deaf attempt at singing. Even staying clean for that long couldn’t have prepared him for this.

Rafe swerved a moment, he caught the younger man’s eye in the rearview before Rafe nodded at him and straightened out the wheel again. The clang of her boots against the truck told him she had steel toe, so he stopped them on their next kick with an extended left hand while his right rubbed the bridge of his nose. Pope sighed, leaning his head back against the side of the truck. He closed his eyelids, squinting his eyes against the weak sunlight filtering through the bare branches. The whistling of the wind as the truck picked up speed drowned out some of her atrocious singing and he hummed a song his pawpaw taught him before he died.

“Allons à Lafayette, c'est pour changer ton nom. On va t’appeler Madame, Madame Canaille Comeaux.” It was quiet, he wasn’t sure if she would have been able to hear it over her own screeching but he could concentrate on the words and ignore her. “Petite, t’es trop mignonne pour faire ta criminelle. Comment tu crois que moi, je peux faire comme ça tout seul. Mais toi, mon joli Coeur, regarde donc ce que t’as fait…”

Eventually, he heard Rafe speak up. “We’re back, Boss.” He opened his eyes, almost half surprised he had nearly fallen asleep on the short ride back. The other guys were getting out when he looked around, and he heard Fletcher’s and Gabriel’s deep voices call out over it all.

“Heads up!”

“Rotters incoming!”

Pope took a look back and saw ten or so rotters stumbling down the road they had come in on. Her damn caterwauling must have drawn them. A couple of his boys stepped out of the trees, no doubt on a perimeter check, ready to engage. He got up, releasing and reattaching her chain, hauling her up over his shoulder again. Jumping down, Raf steadied him when he stumbled, and the man got a kick in the shoulder for his trouble. Raf shook it off and Pope mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ at him. Then he heard the dreaded voice he had hoped to avoid for at least a few more minutes.

“So what the fuck is this, jawn?” Lucky’s voice was, as always, forceful and he was scowling. “We now taking prisoners, Jude? Thought that wasn’t our style.”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Levi’s fire spears skewering the intruders skulls, cooking the rotters brainstems inside out, along with Tony’s fists flying and Justin’s crowbar smashing. He sighed and turned to fully face Lucky, as he saw Ali and Jesse approaching for their checks.

“Lucky, no. She-” Ali saw him first and immediately rushed over, Jesse not far behind. “We’ll talk in a minute, okay?”

She'd put it together pretty fucking quickly. This man's power was what had stopped her. And it was what was causing the pain he seemed to be in. Spiteful, resourceful, and hostile as shit. Cassidy Poe was immediately ready and rarin' to exploit that weakness. Her head flung back, the wind blowing her hair back over one shoulder as she howled out the words. Looking every bit as wild as she acted. And upon closer inspection, she already seemed wild enough. Pope had only seen Cassidy's back, but now as she sat there caterwauling, the scars along her torso, arms and stomach were prevalent as well. Another ugly raised one playing along her clavicle, the rest were raised but faded. As if she'd been wounded long ago. When the man seemed to figure out what she was up to, and locked her feet against the truck, Cassidy snarled and hissed. Only serving to put on a burst of high-powered, spiteful energy. With every rare time she could lift her feet, fought him. Slammed her heel back down as she only sang louder. Slamming her elbow against the side of the truck. Bruising her own flesh for no other reason than to win. Than to spite the man who so clearly looked pained.

As he began to sing, Cassidy's high, sharp wailing slowed and paused as she lowered her chin to look at him. Her gaze almost pensive and considering, nearly mesmerized. Lips still pulled into a snarl, she looked furious and baffled, as if she'd bite him if he got too close. Trying to figure out what he was singing, what language.. why he was doing it. But the moment she realized he was using it to drown her out, she flung her head back once more and put on a loud burst of song. Not even bothering to stop when they pulled forward into what seemed to be a camp. A part of her panicked at someone shouting about Rotters.. but the other more wild part thought fucking good. Eat them all the fuck alive. Her off-key singing only stopped once the man leaned forward and seemed to release her chain. In the split second, she managed to get half a foot away before he'd locked the chain together again and so fucking easily hauled Cassie over his shoulder like she weighed fucking nothing. That was when she started kicknig and screaming once more. Catching the man that drove them there in the shoulder. She didn't even pause at the loud bark of a question that turned nearly everyone elses head.

Lucky was half bent over the small table he'd managed to drag into his tent, looking over the hastily scrawled inventory of their supplies. They were running kind of low on gas, and though Ali helped considerably, their medical supplies were being drained faster than their fuckin' food. Which is what Lucky was hoping Pope and the boys would bring back. A tic flared in his jaw as the pencil tapped in repetition against the wood of the table. Pope. He ought to be back by now, the raid had been planned out almost to fuckin' perfection. Peter had planned this out, Peter had gone with him. Lucky knew that meant that absolutely everything had been thought out, barring some rare wildcard that the boy couldn't predict, they should be fuckin' fine.

His concern was incredibly apparent as his gaze kept tearing away from the small collection of paperwork to the open gap in the tent. Gaze lifting every few minutes toward the small worn dirt path that lead to their back of the woods camp. This lateness.. it couldn't possibly bode well. But Lucky knew he had to keep himself busy, and that's what he did for the most part. At least. Until he heard it. How the fuck could he not hear it?! It sounded like an approaching engine.. and the caterwauling of a dying goddamned cat. Pushing himself roughly to stand, Lucky stumbled out through the half lifted flap of the tent and gave a sheer whistle. A signal for those on the outskirts of camp to come in closer and those unarmed to gear up. He didn't know what the fuck it was, half sounded like a caught animal, but it couldn't possibly be fuckin' good. And as Lucky's jaw dropped as the massive vehicle pulled into the camp with several rotters in tow.. he was proven too fucking right. She looked like a goddamned wild thing. She looked like fuckin' Nell. Her small frame a thrashing, writhing and kicking mass of rage and a set of pipes on her he wouldn't have expected. No accounting for any level of talent. Lucky was ready, just ready to yell at someone. Probably at Diesel, for the sight before him, before his jaw dropped at what he witnessed. Pope. Jude fuckin' Pope. Was the one that had her bound. That had suddenly hauled her up over his shoulder. Something that only seemed to make the feral thing more pissed as her heavy boot knocked into Rafe's head. Even with Pope holding her steady over his shoulder.. he could see her fighting every second.

As he began to storm over, Lucky picked up the pace, pushing past a handfull of the men in front of him. “So what the fuck is this, jawn?” Lucky barked out, causing heads to turn and immediately catching Popes attention. Whatever he was about to say was silenced as Ali and Jesse rushed forward. Frustrated, the man stepped aside. Which immediately was proven as a mistake as the redheads heavy boot slammed into his chest with a shocking amount of force for the size of her. Sending him stumbling back and knocking the breath out of him as he gave a wheezing exhale. His hand lifting to clutch his chest as he silently stared at the commotion before him, trying to catch his breath.

Cassidy hadn't stopped fighting, not for a second as the mother fucker was dumb enough to get close to her. She'd already come to terms with the fact that kicking this mother fuckers ass alone wasn't going to do. So she settled for as much fuckin' collateral damage as she could possibly do. Which actually.. turned out to be a lot. Her nails bit into the man's back through his shirt, elongating to claws that grooved into the flesh as she snarled and shouted absent, explicit threats. When the two rushed toward them, Cassidy continued her fighting, before she heard Pope say something. So focus on her, something. Then his hands grabbed her wrists and yanked them in front of one of the men, and Cassidy seemed to lose it again. "Y'ain't gon' fuckin TOUCH ME!" she howled. An accent so rough and forceful that whoever hadn't been watching sure as shit was now. Trying to yank her wrists back closer to her while at the same time, lunging forward. Her teeth snapped in the air so close to Ali's face that the man's eyes widened in surprise at the speed and Jesse gave a halting exclamation, pushing himself in front of the other man and giving the one holding her against him an incredulous look. She could hear the other man she'd caught in the chest struggle with wheezing. before shouting a slightly strangled 'The fuck's goin' on here, Jude? What is this?!"

hauntedghcsts:

Every single kick and fist into his back hurt, but it was swallowed up by another myriad assortment of pain. Pope’s blood was like fire in his veins, pounded like drumbeats in his temples, coated the inside of his mouth in a flood of copper. Having never controlled metal at that distance, the after affects were like nothing he had ever felt. Then there was the sting of various cuts and bruises, the fucking bite in his shoulder, and his still throbbing nose.

Ali, he already knew, was going to demand to heal all of them at once but Jesse was going to hold the doctor back. Any other time he would be ambivalent about Jesse’s caution, but right now he was grateful. He’s unsure if he could hold Ali back from taking away all this pain, no matter how dangerous it was to their powered healer. He just wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep for a few days, but the kicking, screaming, clawing woman slung over his shoulders insured he wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

Yet— he was looking forward to it. Getting to know her. Earning her trust, hell, maybe even asking her to join their ranks. But Pope was getting ahead of himself. He would first have to get her back to camp without her taking another chunk out of him or one of the boys, or hurting herself, or hurting someone else, or worst case, killing someone. Pope had no doubt she was capable of it. He had known which of his boys had killed or was willing to kill the first few moments he had met them, and that same sense told him that she would.

All these thoughts raced around his mind in an uproar, a clatter, not unlike a tank or a train, something large and heavy and dangerous. He could only register Raf and Colton as he started out by the former fussing over the later about his ear. Then Colton rushed up beside him, swerving to avoid the fox woman’s kicking heels. Then Colton’s rapid fire apology raced alongside them.

“Pope, sorry, I don’t know what happened, she started- she started stripping! I mean, I first took off one of the handcuffs, her hand was turning purple, and she started taking off her shirt and stuff, I’m sorry, I got distracted-”

“Stop it, Colton.” He cut off the rambling young man. “What happened happened. Don’t worry, we’ll adapt. Simple as that. Watch it!”

Colton let out an oof, stumbling backwards from a well placed heel. Yet placing a blow on Colton didn’t stop the struggling, and he took a step away from Colton, and the young man dropped back next to Raf. He could hear them talking, trying to concentrate on that noise instead of the buzzing in his temples.

“You fucked up, Colton.” “Hey, if she starts stripping in the passenger seat, you try and stop her!” “Psh, did you catch Pope’s bent? He’s pissed regardless. Watch your step man.”

“Lay off me, okay? I’m already gonna catch more hell from Pope. What about Lucky? What will he think of this?”

They fell further behind and the conversation drifted away from his awareness. Pope could almost groan at the misinterpretation of his tone. If he sounded short with Colton, it wasn’t from anger. Maybe disappointment that the boy let it go that far, but not anger. It was the pain and exhaustion coloring his voice. He would have to address it back at camp. And Lucky. Shit. He didn’t even want to think about that right now.

Pope sighed in relief at finally making it to the truck. Then a sharp blossoming pain exploded at his back. She bit him again! What the fuck was her obsession with biting him? Did he taste good or some shit? He swallowed his expletive at the added hurt, instead opting for settling her a bit more roughly than warranted in the bed of the truck. He kept control of the handcuff on her wrist, pinning her to the truck bed until he climbed up onto the bed with her. Raf’s door slammed and the truck lurched out of park. Pope wanted to yell at her again, but he settled for a scowl and a heartless chuckle at her invitation to suck on parts of her anatomy that didn’t exist. Unless that was another surprise this woman would throw at him. She was already a fucking pallet of Cracker Jack surprises’ worth, what was one more? As the truck started rolling forward slowly, he released the binding of the handcuff to the truck bed, snapping the empty one on her free wrist again and guided her joined hands to the rollbar in front of her.

Pope focused, using a few of his ball barings he carried to extend the chain. This kind of small delicate work was near subconscious for him now, as he had started out with this as a child when his power first manifested. His father gave him a roll of copper sheeting and told him to play around with it. He eventually got so good at it, he was able to make small models and move them about. It took control and he, even now, thought he was better at fine work. With the chain extended, he reformed it around the bar.

Sitting back, he flexed his shaking hands, and then rubbed his temples. Everything hurt, even those small action took a further toll on him. He gritted his teeth and spoke lowly at his still struggling companion.

“You have a fetish for biting things? I mean, you’ve bitten me twice. It’s pointless you know. Got some fool notion in your head, huh.”

As the man was carrying her, as he flung her body over his shoulder as if she weight next to nothing.. Cassidy seemed to forget. She seemed to entirely forget the strange, gentle tone he'd had when he spoke to her. She forgot the words, the slightly protective stance he took, what little confusion his nearly gentle demeanor had wrought in her. Once more, she was furious. A wild fucking mongrel kicking and fighting and desperate. If not to get away, then to do as much damage as humanly possible. And honestly, she was fucking succeeding, she could feel the 'thwap' of her feet against whatever poor idiot had gotten in her crossfires. And if she was lucky, a solid smack of her bony, sharp knee against the man's skull. Though no matter how many blows Cassidy seemed to deal, the man didn't pause or even falter in his gait. Even as her teeth sank into the firm muscle of the man's ass. And Cassidy Poe wasn't the type to nip, every bite she dealt would leave a goddamned scar.

She could hear the young men talking, off to the side, somewhat close to her. Pope. Lucky, Colton. Were these names? Pope.. that had to be the mother fucker carrying her. Fucking typical. Some arrogant raider piece of shit giving himself some religious ass name. Is that what this was? Some kind of cult?! Her little hands pushed against his lower back enough to lift herself in an attempt to look around her. Hazed eyes taking in a group of men treading a safe enough distance away from her and falling even further behind. They seemed dressed normally, the young man she'd struck in the car looking down toward the ground. His brow was cut, bust open from hitting the window.. but before she could put anything else together the two fell off to the side and she was suddenly set down hard into the bed of a truck. So hard the impact resounded up her tailbone as she gave a low snarl of pain. Her immediate reaction was to lift herself to her heels and try to run again, but before she could even gather momentum, she was pinned again with a slew twangy curses, lashing out with her foot again.

The truck lurched hard into movement so fast that she lunged forward as well, stopped by the cuff as the man gave a dry chuckle and once more snapped her hands together. This time with more room, this time directly in front of her. She watched, almost in surprise as the man seemed to focus everything in front of him and to her surprise.. and honestly slow.. begrudging realization and interest. The chain looped around the bar in a way this man controlled entirely. Leaving her pinned once more.

As he leaned back away from her, her neck craned and she turned to look at him. Just in time to catch the drag of his palms over his temples. He was speaking.. but she couldn't quite register what he was saying, oh no. The wheels in her mind were turning. Realizing. What he was, what he was capable of was a fucking shit ton of power. But it was obvious that the set back was a bitch. Her expression seemed.. almost pensive. Nothing like the feral creature he'd been dealing with for the better part of the last hour as she stared at him. It seemed to change her features entirely, sharp gaze making her look still ruthless, and quick. More present.. and far more intelligent than a wild animal as she took in his features. His posture, his mannerisms. Had he been in the van with her and Colton he'd have seen that look already. Right before the poor young man had been.. for lack of a better term. Fuckin' duped.

She watched him in uncharacteristic silence for a moment as she took in his pain, the mans drained appearance. Then she took a slow, deep breath. Her voice broke out in song, rough and low as if she were unused to doing anything but either silence or screaming. Her voice seemed a velvetine kind of scratchy. Feminine despite the low husk there with the deeper sounding lyrics. "Oh I went down Soooouth for to see my Saaaaal..." Her gaze had drank him in with each sharp consonant. Watching the flinch in his features.. getting exactly what she was looking for. Another little bout of silence. Then, then her voice exploded. Loud and sharp and tragically tone-deaf as her head flung back as if she were howling. Wild red hair caught in the wind and bared that dirty, scared face. Those sharp teeth. "PLAYIN' POLLYWOLLYDOODLYALLTHEDAAAY!" The truck swerved slightly as the suddenness and volume startled Rafe and he jerked back to look, before pulling his attention once more to the road. Not foolish enough to get distracted from his job. Not that it stopped her. Not like that was her endgame, here. Her voice caught in a sharp inhale, and this time, every lyric was punctuated with a clanging, heavy kick of her steel-toed boot against the hull of the truck with a force that vibrated through both of them. "FAIR THEE WELL! FAIR THEE WELL! FAIR! THEE! WELL! MY FAIRY! FAE!" This mother fucker was about to learn that being ‘pointless’ wasn’ta dealbreaker in Cassie doing a goddamn thing. And spite was a hell of a driving factor.

hauntedghcsts:

She was twisting, writhing on the hard packed soil, biting at her own goddamn wrist to try and escape. Pope had the image of a bloody scene he had come on when he had gone back home to Gheens. He had been out hunting with his relatives, lugging shotguns and bows through the Salvador while they checked traps. They where on the fourth trap when he felt more iron than a trap alone. There it was, sunk among the maiden cane and cattails, a limb removed from its owner. A fox’s leg, gnawed off, belonging to a corpse they found 20 yards on. And he had no doubt this fox would do the same.

Clearly she had survived worse. Scars littered her back, some shallow and faint, some angry and pink, recent. They stood out prominently among the dirt and mud and dust, along with the fire like shock of her tangled hair covering her neck and shoulders, hanging in limp curtains around her furious eyes. Pope felt a sudden rush of unbearable affection tinged with pride of this unnamed woman. Still fighting. Both him and whatever ghosts gave her these scars. He didn’t want to be another one, a bad memory etched into her skin with pain.

Against his better judgement, he bent down, ignoring her venom laced threats. Cute, coming from a pinned woman without a shirt in the middle of winter, but hardly understandable under that northern mountain-man twang. Though he had to give her credit for it. Pulling a ripped shirt that had been stuffed into the torn lining of his jacket as insulation, he shred it into two strips as he avoided her flailing and gritted his teeth to keep his concentration focused on holding her down.

“Stop.”

He ignored her nails digging into his arm, certain it was breaking skin but not caring. Pope carefully threaded the worn shirt through the cuff, protecting her wrist from the metal, and then took the second strip, wrapping it about her wrist to stop her bleeding. She stopped struggling for a moment, then reared up and fucking bit him.

Her sharpened canines sunk into his shoulder, and on instinct he jammed his hand under her chin, pulling her up and away, before grabbing her shoulder and flipping her on her back, pinning her carefully, now softening his hand just enough to hold her still. His heavy breath brushed across her neck, he could feel the blood already trickling down his arm.

“Damn, cher! Stop snapping, I’m trying to help you.” Raf and Colton’s steps thudded to a stop next to him and he curled closer towards her. He lowered his voice into a near whisper, leaning against her and holding her down with one arm while the other kept the cuff pinned to the ground. “Where the hell do you wanna go? There’s nothing about for miles, and I guess you could wander drunk into another raider camp and get beaten?” He hesitated, noticing the scars on her stomach now. “Get more scars?”

He leaned back slightly, finger tapping slightly on her shoulder dropping his voice even lower.

“But I don’t want that for you.”

He paused, watching her, before glancing up at his boys, then back at the stopped line of cars on the road, distant others leaning against cars and out of windows. He stood up again, hauling her light frame up over his uninjured shoulder, ignoring her beating fists and kicking legs.

“Okay, brin tracas. You’re riding back with me.”

Colton and Raf descended in a chatter of doubt and disbelief that he would take her back again. After this. But as Pope saw it, he had no choice now. She was alone, scared and running. She wasn’t running towards something but simply running away. She had no one to go to. And once again, against his better judgement, he was helping her. Hopefully he wouldn’t get fucking bitten again.

Cassidy Poe was ready for a fight, you could fucking see it. Like downed power-line, live and lashing and crackling with danger and avarice. She watched him, eyes sharp and nearly fucking venomous as he moved forward. This mother fucker's arrogance showed through even in his gait, a slow, deliberate pace toward her as she tried ferally to get free. The closer the man got, the more wild and desperate her actions became. Even at the distance he was at, it was clear, her bloodied wrist from how violently she tried to pull free. Then, then her teeth closed around her wrist in small shredding attempts to get enough wiggle room to pull free and there was enough blood to cover everything. The frosted white and straw colored grass splattered with a deep crimson, the same deep crimson that marred along her chin and lips and nose as she ripped at her wrist with little, feral snarls of pain. She wasn't thinking this through, what the little redhead was doing wasn't a matter of consideration or strategy. She was all instinct, running on adrenaline and the desperate animal need to be free and it showed in the way her teeth snapped loudly up at him as she heard his footsteps move closely to her head.

Her body twisted sharply, in a flexible and almost horrifying rendition of some cgi'd demonic posession movie as wild eyes turned sharply up toward the silhouette the man made in the white-bright sunlight. If she had the presence of mind, Cassidy would be ashamed. She'd be humiliated and furious with herself that this man, this complete stranger, could lay his fucking eyes on the plethora of scars littering her skin. The raised, ugly marks marring her flesh, pointing out, so clearly, her vulnerability. Her weakness. But right now, her only thought seemed to be to lash out, to hurt before this man laid hands on her.

When he bent down, she recoiled sharply, her feet kicking out in little, surprisingly strong thuds against the man's legs, until what he was doing sank in. The low baritone of his soft command. "Stop."

Her brow furrowed, confused and bemused as she stared up at him, trying to figure out just what he was doing. What he was up to. Her red brows stitched, furrowing at the middle as her still swimming vision watched him. Watched him ripping his shirt and gently covering her wrists. For a split second, an overwhelming familiarity filled her. Of Alexi tending to her wounds, of his gentle but steel grip. Of the soft, gentle care the Russian always took in tending to her wounds. Never hurting her, his low voice calmly scolding her in a language she didn't understand. Scolding her for being so reckless, so destructive. Maybe it was that memory that sent an aching blade deep into her heart, maybe it was the realization that this man tending to her was chasing her.. holding her captive. Maybe it was just.. a matter of opportunity, but her eyes snapped once more to a sharp appearance and she lunged forward and sank her sharp little deeth hard into his shoulder. Feeling her teeth sink in, the rush of blood in her mouth. Then, her world spun upside-down.

The man moved rapidly, fast and harsh as she found her chin jammed up and away from him and her shoulders slammed hard onto the solid ground. She was pinned, surprised and helpless as she stared up at him, trying to find her breath. She was still in shock, when she heard the pounding of footsteps from the other men and immediately seemed to tense, seemed to start to fight again at the approach of others before he suddenly leaned in. The position seeming to hide her from them, and them from her. The proximity seeming to calm her, at least for a moment as her heart thudded against her chest. Pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat like the wings of a trapped bird, wild turquoise eyes jerking from him to any possible threat getting near her. Then he spoke, his voice low and calming and seeming to ground her as her struggle slowed. Asking her where she wanted to go. Get drunk, get hurt, get more scars.

For a moment, something real and human and entirely broken flashed over her features at the realization of what hed seen. Something conscious as her chin jerked in an attempt to look away from him. Feeling his finger tap her shoulder, hearing his last words. Then what the FUCK did this man want? To hurt her? Capture her? Fucking.. take her??! He'd done that. What did he want? HIS boys to do whatever was going to happen instead of someone else? What kind of fucked up person was this? What did he WANT?!?

Her confusion was only on her features for a few more seconds as he seemed to lean back, looking at everyone. By the time he looked back at her, her features were twisted once more into hostile defiance, chin up and lips pursed, before he pushed to stand and picked her up. Lifted her. And literally fucking threw her over his goddamned shoulders. She landed hard against his back with a 'thud' and an 'oof' Claws grasping at his shirt and pants as her long muddy hair impeded her vision and just like that, her howling returned tenfold. Kicking and spitting and pounding her bloodied fists against his back.

She didn't hear much, didn't register much. Didn't hear how the men trailing behind him and getting to their respective cars were talking about how they didn't know what he was doing. How some 'Lucky' wasn't going to be happy. Didn't hear Coltons fervent excuses and apologies as he trailed alongside the man carrying her. All she knew was she was helpless. Again. Being taken, fucking again. And she fought like the only thing she knew how to do.

Teeth sank hard into the only part she could reach, right above the low waistline of his pants directly into his ass as she snarled, taking satisfaction in the fact that she broke skin again before she was dropped HARD into what looked like another fucking car. Vivid eyes glaring once more up at his now considerably less understanding looking features. “Suck. My. Dick.”

lovecrvftian

#hauntedghcsts

musingsiren

quick psa that this roleplayer does not require other blogs to do ‘fancy formatting!’ some might require this, and that’s fine, but I specifically do not. I simply format my posts for myself, and I won’t not roleplay with you if you don’t format your posts fancily :)

fyeahrpmemes-blog

For rpers: reblog if you are 18+

hauntedghcsts:

He could practically hear Pope’s voice in his head, the disappointed hiss of it: ‘you couillion.’ This passenger didn’t calm down, if anything, she became more tense and alert. Then an already bizarre afternoon only got more bizarre. She started stripping. Colton couldn’t really stop her, not with running afoul of those wicked sharp claws, but he gave a half hearted effort.

“What are you doing? Stop…”

He trailed off when his eyes settled on her, taking in the scarred but firm stomach, the curve of her ribs and the red bra. Without the scars, she wouldn’t be out of place at a strip joint or waving her shirt off the balcony of one of the sororities. Her smile was like the first sip of a bottle, just as intoxicating.

He near blindly took the curve, too busy paying attention to her voice, then came a blow that was completely unexpected. Colton’s head felt like it got rattled, like his ears were filled with feedback and his left temple throbbed. He struggled to keep the car straight and on the road. Then the car door opened in a rush of wind. She rolled out, and Colton stomped on the brakes, grunting in effort. Shit, she just rolled out of a car going at least 20 miles per hour, how the fuck had she not broken something?

He twisted in his seat, looking for her body beside the car but instead saw her, shirtless and with a slight limp, in a headlong tilt, sprinting for the woods across the field to his right. He gasped, shaking his head to clear some of the ringing, before laying on the horn. The sudden noise startled the birds out of the trees that she was running for. Through his rear view mirror he could see Raf and Pope’s confusion and pointed frantically at the her retreating form.

No sooner had he said that, Colton’s car in front of them started driving erratically and then slowed, Raf stopping their car in confusion. They sat dumbstruck as they watched her roll out of the van and take off running across the field beside them.

“This where you thought it was gonna go?” Raf voice was deadpan, and when Pope looked over at him the boy had a faint smile dancing around his mouth.

Pope let his breath out in an angry burst, exploding into his native tongue mixed with his learned one.

“Beb, he’s couillion half tha time, I swear, me. That fonchock! Merde de'pouille! Pour l’amour de Dieu!”

Halfway through his rant, Pope tumbled out of the car, watching her run. She was a wild creature, that was for sure. Beside him, Raf was babbling again and he tuned him out, instead reaching out his hand towards the escaping woman. He had never tried this before, but he didn’t want her to get away. Raf faded out, he either stopped talking or Pope just was too focused.

He extended his sense, feeling the barely there vibration of the metal in the earth, the hot burn of the knife at the small of his back and pushed out. It hurt and he gasped, breath coming fast. He could faintly feel Raf’s hand on his shoulder, the younger man shouting in his ear. Pope shrugged him off, and suddenly he could feel her, the liquid under her skin, the little button at her waist, the metal clasps on the back of her bra, the small pieces in their neat line up her shoes, the cold hard circle around her wrist.

He focused on that first, the metal and how it brought a rush of blood to it, bruises forming in blossoms of iron under the delicate skin of her wrist. He could practically feel it, hooked right over his fingers, the metal heating. Then he gathered up the smaller pieces, pulling them into his palm. With a sharp exhale, he opened his eyes, brought his hand into a fist and then down. He gave a satisfied growl at the sight of her landing in a tumble.

Beside him Raf and now Colton gave triumphant hoots, while he stalked in a steady prowl across the field, baring his teeth in a grimace as he pressed and pulled at the metal on her to keep her from wriggling too far. He finally stopped in front of her, avoiding her snapping teeth and wild snarls.

“Where were you thinking of goin’, fille?”

Pain was nearly goddamned blinding Cassidy as at first, the hard surface of the cracked pavement resounded up through her now aching left ankle with every hard step. Though the moment she hit the soft ground of the field, it wasn't much better. Cold weather had hardened the soil, and the slew of dead grass only made her struggle to even remotely keep her balance as she took off at top speed. Not that she let those little fucking bumps in the road stop her. Swallowing the pain that rose, the blood that continued to flow in her mouth and the bile that was starting to sting the back of her throat from what she could only assume was the ramifications of being remotely sober for the first time in days, Cassidy put on a last, desperate burst of speed. That mother fucker couldn't catch her, none of them could. And fuck if she didn't half want him to come try. She wanted to sink her teeth into him, she wanted to beat him until he was an irrecognizeable bloody fucking pulp. But more than that, she needed to fucking survive.

She heard the ugly screech of a large van ramming to a halt, and shit if she didn't hear that loud, blaring horn. Fuck, the kid's recovery time was faster than she'd expected it to be, she shouldn't have gone so light on him. [Though she was pretty sure she'd busted an eardrum at the very least, lamenting her methods weren't gonna do her much good now. Instead, she spun her head back to look. Confusion whirled in her mind for a moment as that momentary glimpse showed her that the large man, the ringleader, was just standing outside his truck. That didn't track.. why wasn't he chasing her? Well shit, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, instead she ignored the cold bite of the wind on naked skin and sprinted in what seemed to be a now zig-zagging pattern toward the forest. In case these mother fuckers decided to shoot at her. Though her pace had slowed only a modicum, her slight limp had become vividly apparent.

She was so close.. so fucking close. She couldn't hear anyone running after her.. for some reason. Couldn't smell them, their sweat or the booze or the scent of gunpowder, and for a split second she felt a flare of excitement once more. Triumph. Then.. something very fucking weird happened. The handcuff around her wrist seemed to tingle. Seemed to shift slightly, heat up, but she didn't really notice it. At least. Not until it, and her hand, and her entire fucking body went down, hard, with a sharp, strangled yelp.

Going at full speed, her entire body tumbled into the ground so hard that her body flipped and rolled for a second in the direction she'd still been running, held only in place by her wrist that was now inexplicably pinned to the ground. "What the f- What the fuck what the fUCK?"! Her voice howled, confused and rough as she recovered and dug her heels into the ground, trying to pull her entire weight. And succeeding.. minimally. It would only be an inch every ten seconds.. but that didn't seem to deter her. She still pushed and yanked and struggled.. and when the man began to walk toward her. She got truly desperate. Flinging herself forward onto her stomach, Cassidy bent down and wrapped her teeth around the cuff, around the wrist. Biting unceremoniously. Shredding at metal and flesh as she snarled. The position leaving her on her stomach and baring her back. A back which, in the cold light of day, showed every scar. The ones she hid from everyone. The faded scars of beatings long past as a teenager, as a kid. Whippings from sticks and bare fists. The several raised scars from the torment she'd suffered years before at the hands of the raiders. What looked like scarred roadrash on her right shoulder. And most prominent, two ugly, large raised scars. One perpendicular to her spine and long. A blade having cut deep, as well as a sharp.. similar scar on the curve of her waist. Her long red hair was darkened by mud and dirt and wild around her face and naked shoulders as furious, seagreen eyes lifted to the man. Lips tinged slightly with her own blood as she bared her teeth up at him. Looking truly feral.

"I was tryn'a do you a favor, mother fucker." She snarled, lashing out a hard kick at the man that was just out of reach. "Because now, last look you get of me is gonna be from the FUCKIN GROUND. Y'hear me?!?!" What wasn't exactly blatant before was her accent. But now it was clear. A fast, husky twang that wasn't southern.. but undeniably appalachian. "I'm gon'fuckin kick your nar'a ASS!" A threat that couldn't seem to be taken seriously from a tiny, half naked woman pinned to the goddamn ground.

hauntedghcsts:

There was a giddy feeling rushing through him, like the tingle after he moved metal, but without the pain. It eclipsed the sharp hurt of his nose or the deep ache of his stomach. Raf was driving, because he could pat the dash and the old junker would sputter to life. The boy had a power but he had a magic beyond that to him, that he could dig his hands into the guts of a car and bring it back from the dead. However, right now he was looking at him from the corner of his eye. Pope grabbed a rag on the center console, smeared with engine oil, to wipe the blood from his jacket as Raf opened and closed his mouth, the rattle of the engine acting as his voice until he found his words.

“Pope, I mean- What the fuck? She punched you.”

Pope laughed, the action turning into a cough halfway through. Something slid down the back of his throat. He spat some blood into the rag, and Raf made a noise.

“I’ll get Ali when we get back. He’ll fix it.”

“It’s fine, Raf. She got a shot in on me and deserved it.”

“But-”

“Raf, calm down. She interesting, and might even be useful. Have you ever seen a power like hers?”

Raf paused, quiet as the tires crunched on gravel.

“Not since.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Okay, okay. I trust you Pope, I’ll follow you on this.”

Pope smiled, letting the rag drop to the floor, before clapping his hand against Raf’s shoulder and gave a squeeze with a short hum before turning back to the road.

“Thanks, I just want to see where this goes.”

Colton was panicking a bit. Okay not a bit, more like a lot. Pope had tasked him with the responsibility of taking her back to camp and he definitely didn’t want to do that. While yes, he had felt bad for her when she was being beaten into the dirt, she was now handcuffed and furious in his passenger seat. He flinched when she was shoved in the van by Diesel and Pope, and was distracted while he went through the movements of starting up the car and following Peter’s car in front of him.

The feral woman was staring at him now, with moments when her eyes roved over everything in view. He knew she was planning something, but what, he wasn’t sure. Pope would be telling him to look closer, but his mind didn’t work like his leader’s. He was just too busy trying to take her all in. She was dirty, covered in blood and grime and who knows what else, and looked like she had been through some shit. He had heard the scream when Diesel was pinning her down, and it had sent chills down his spine.

His eyes wandered over to her again, and she took that as an indicator she could speak. Her hand was numb? Colton knew that wasn’t a good sign. He bit his lip before nodding and reached over with the key Peter had pressed into his hand after the ex-Ranger had searched her.

“Okay, but don’t make any sudden movements or anything. I’m just gonna take the one on your left hand off, okay?”

The click of the handcuff dropping, had him sighing in relief because maybe now she wouldn’t be so… unsettled.

There was one thing Cassidy knew for certain. As true as the goddamned sky was blue. She was going to kill that lanky, cocksure mother fucker before he killed her. All the other men could take her down.. probably would. She couldn't really see a way out of this one. They were too organized, too collected. The man was too vigilante of a fuckin' leader for a goddamn group of no-good raiders. But she was going to take sweet satisfaction in digging her claws into that pompous fuckin' face. The redhead was so thoroughly intent on this line of thought that for a moment, she wasn't even aware that the young man was regarding her again. Until her gaze snapped back into focus and she glanced at him, once more adopting a soft.. beaten look. She could do that. Shit.. even though it wouldn't be that hard with how underfed she was, how beat to hell and filthy. It was one of the more difficult things she'd ever done. Pride was a bitch.

As the young man regarded her, her gaze lowered to his hands as her shoulders tucked forward and her head dropped. An expression of.. actually real.. pain crossing her features as she gave into the discomfort of everything. How tight the cuffs really were, the pain of her sharp teeth cutting open her cheek, her split lip and black eye and what was likely a bruised rib at the very least. She seemed almost wilted, cowed as her seagreen gaze flickered hesitantly up to his. "Come on.. please?"

When he agreed, that sweet.. reluctant voice. Cassidy almost felt bad for what was to come. Almost. Honestly, this kid made the choice to shack up with fuckin' apocalypse pirates so she absolved herself of that guilt by telling herself he was lucky he was only getting what was coming. As he freed her, only uncuffing one hand as if that made a different.. the cuffs didn't fucking matter.. she was now mobile. Little rube. "Yeah.. sure. You're the boss." She stated. But something in her stature seemed to shift. Though she didn't act up, move fast or even make a threatening motion, her demeanor shifted. Shoulders squaring, spine straightening again like a cat arching it's back Her gaze went from downcast to once more scanning, sharp and piercing. Watching him, watching her surroundings, until she caught sight of the turn a mile or so ahead. Her eyes immediately narrowed on the cars that turned around the massive cluster of rocks. Counting the time in between each car that turned. A minute and thirty seconds. Each time. That wasn't a lot of time to do something.. but it was enough.

The moment they were two cars away from the turn, Cassidy straightened. The cuffs jangled as she shifted slowly to her knees and curled her fingers around her jacket, shedding it behind her. Then unbuttoning the plaid overshirt, shedding that as well until she was in an oversized longsleeved tee. Her gaze remained locked on the cars ahead, knowing the young man was now looking at her, more confused than angry. As they were only one car away now, she made a slow, deliberate show of pulling off the long sleeved shirt. Baring the curve of her scarred stomach, the deep red of the bra she was wearing, the way the straps were oversized so that one strap fell over her shoulder. She could hear a small, confused strangled sound coming from the young man, and as they approached the curve, her lips parted in.. for a moment, a bright and stunning smile.

"This flustered choirboy look is actually kinda cute." She stated in a low, husky purr. Then the shadow of the rocks fell over them and they took the curve, swerving slightly. The moment they were out of sight of the asshole's car behind them, she struck, hard.

Her closed fist, slightly cushioned by the wadded long sleeved shirt, slammed hard into the side of the kids head. Boxing his ear and sending the other side colliding somewhat hard into the window at his left. Enough to knock him stupid for a minute. The car kept driving at the same speed, though began to coast off the road. Before the kid could react, before his head even bounced off the window, the passengers side door flung open and the redhead leapt out of the car moving at full speed.

She hit the road with a low grunt and hiss of pain, but she didn't have time to stop. Rolling once, twice, before kicking off of the pavement. Ignoring what was probably now a sprained ankle, and taking off at full speed across the field, knowing it was only a matter of seconds before the others realized what was going on. Not caring that she was fucking shirtless in the goddamned winter, that the bulk of her guns were back at the raiders camp, she'd worry about that later. The forests lining was less than a mile away and she could practically taste freedom. They couldn't catch her... not with this headstart.

hauntedghcsts:

Pope caught the faintest hint of something flash across her face, undercutting the fear. That fear was the prevailing emotion. Fear at being tied up, at his questions, his physical dominance over her in this position. But the cross current that happened when he said she didn’t have anyone in her corner. That she was a mess. It was bone deep, something like despair or destruction. He barely had time to process that before a breathtakingly fast series of events happened. And by breathtaking, it was literally breathtaking.

Her unseen fist connected with his nose then her head to his gut, and everything was a dull roar, before sound buzzed back in a flurry of shouts.

“-fucking bitch!”

“-get her, Diesel!”

“-the fuck! Pope!”

Someone’s hand was on his back, holding him up by the shoulder before he shrugged them off to lean against the tree as his breath whistled back into his lungs and he coughed. His eyes watered, and Pope’s gaze landed on Diesel tackling her into the dirt. Diesel was above her, knee in the side of her spine, holding her hands down and away as he yelled at her. He noted that her hands digging into the loam were claws, tipped with lengthened nails.

“You don’t lay a hand on him! You fucking spineless dumb-”

“Diesel.”

It was simple, low and rough from his cough, but the single word stopped his Diesel’s fury and everyone rushing around the scene in their tracks. He waved off the fluttering hands at his shoulder and stood up straight. Pope could feel the blood pouring from his nose, the wrongness of it. She fucking broke it, how perfect. She was a surprise and a welcome one at that. Someone who could get the drop on him like that? It was intriguing. The only sound was his boy’s heavy breathing and her growls, the way her feet and hands kicked and tore at the ground.

“Peter, you have those handcuffs right?”

Peter in reply tossed him the cuffs, which they had found in a abandoned police station. Pope caught them, stalking over to the source of all this trouble as Diesel yanked her hands back behind her back. He snapped on the cuffs, careful of the claws, and noted distantly that his blood was dripping down onto her jacket- adding to the gunk already there. He scowled and snorted at her state. It was sad that such a powerful woman had sunk so low. Diesel nodded to him and got up, and Pope caught her bound wrists, Diesel supporting her shoulders to haul her up.

“Colton, you bring her back in the van.”

“Boss?”

The question came from Tony and he wasn’t sure how to answer it. Why were they taking her back? Something in his gut told him she was going to prove useful in the long run, maybe even she’d fit into his ragtag clan. He shook his head in answer to Tony and the other man backed down. Before heading to the front of the mismatched line to trek out of the camp’s hallow, he bent down into her face. He was certain he made quite a sight, his nose swelling and blood pouring down from his nostrils.

“Jude Pope, pleased to make your acquaintance, cher. And what a fine meeting, indeed. We’re not done with you yet, but I’m willing to forgive the punching.”

He laughed, backing up and grinning still at her before clapping the nearest man on the shoulder.

“Let’s go boys!”

The split second of triumph Cassidy had at whacking that smug mother fucker directly in his goddamned face was quickly and aggressively doused out as she spun on her heel and kicked off of the ground. She knew if she could just get into the thickets of the forest not even a quarter mile away, she'd be as good as home free. But the moment she struck the man, chaos and noise seemed to explode. A cacophany of voices resounding behind her, shock and anger and fury and what Cassidy could distinctly hear. Powerful, hard, fast foodsteps behind her. "Shit." Her voice stuttered out as she picked up as much speed as she could. Struggling through her inebriation and the sticking, muddy ground that her boots just sunk into. She was so fucking close.. but it didn't matter. She might as well been miles and miles away from the forest's lining. Because in less than ten seconds, what felt like a goddamned Mac Truck slammed her into the ground.

It knocked the breath out of her, but Diesel's hard hit sure as fuck didn't kill the fight in her. She gave a loud, visceral snarl and started to buck and fight. One elbow slamming hard up into the mans chin as she struggled violently. Until his hands grabbed her and flipped her hard onto her stomach and the terrifying.. familiar sensation of a heavy, hard knee pressing into her spine pushed her inches into the dirt. Her mind left. It just.. bluntly left as she was brought back to time after time of being pinned to the filthy pavement floor of the warehouse the raiders had trapped her in. The agonizing, searing hot pain of a knife's blade being pushed into her flesh flashed through her mind. First.. first, she froze entirely. Stiffening and straightening ramrod straight beneath the man, before the young woman gave a deep.. gutwrenching sound. Mournful and terrified and almost animalistic, a scream more than a howl as her long nails imbedded and dug desperately into the mud. Her fury turned to raw, animalistic panic as the small creature fought tooth and nail, giving even the large man on top of her a struggle at keeping her down. Until someone uttered a low word, and the man stopped entirely.

Cassidy didn't. Her lungs were burning, she could barely breathe but she still struggled. Kicked and snarled and clawed at the ground in a desparate attempt to free herself. until she felt large hands on her wrists, forcing them behind her. Her voice broke out again, a nearly audible 'NO!" as she felt the heavy clanking. Bound one more fucking time, story of her goddamned fucking life. Before she could try to wiggle out of them, she was hauled up hard. So hard she could barely keep her balance, and found herself glaring up at the same man that had basically called her fucking pathetic. Blood was filling her mouth from when the take-down caused her to bite down on her cheek hard, but she used the pain to ground her. And her expression when she looked at the man was absolutel raw hatred. The fear she'd expressed only seconds ago erased, now masked with hostility. Aggression. Her head snapped to the van he was talking about. The young man he spoke to.. couldn't have been too old. ...Bring her back in the van. Something choked her, swelled in her throat. Her gaze remained locked on the van, until the man spoke again. Fucking introduced himself. What? He wanted her to know his fucking name while he did whatever?! He was willing to FORGIVE her?! Her expression twisted with disgust and she inhaled sharply, before spitting at him. Blood and saliva matting over his chest and shoulder. If she were taller, it would have been his face.

Cassidy was shoved hard, unceremoniously into the passengers seat of a van, the door slammed shut at her side and before she knew it she was moving. After several long seconds, after she calmed down, she took in her surroundings. The car in front of them was fairly far away... as was the car behind them. How many were there..? That question was dulled as she looked at the man driving. Young. Real young.. clearly inexperienced. Kept casting worried looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Immediately, an idea. And resolve, formed in her mind. "Hey.. hey.. hey sir?" Her voice adopted a soft whine as she shifted and shimmied, making uncomfortable noises. "They put these on tight, really tight ok? I can't feel my left hand, my shoulder hurts. Can't you just? Can't you take them off? I mean it's not like I can do anything but it just.. it hurts. Please make it stop hurting.."

hauntedghcsts:

Pope was pushing, always pushing. He did it to his own men, did it to Lucky until his best friend punched him in the face a week into knowing him. Pope wanted to know limits, to know the truth that sung out under pressure. And sometimes, it was just fucking fun to watch. Here it was like watching a volcano bubble. He wanted to see it spew red hot lava and observe what wasn’t burnt away.

When he looked at her again, she seemed feral, in the angle of her eyes and the way her lips drew back over her teeth- no, canines. He’s seen plenty of dogs with snarling maws to know what a set of animal canines looked like. And with the shock of red hair, the canines, the narrowed eyes… She looked like a goddamn fox. Interesting. That thought and the heavy sarcasm spewing from her mouth painted a constant grin on his face, predator like in its own right, full of mirth and twisted enjoyment of her humor. When he spoke again, his voice was masked under the inflections he learned to copy on the west coast, drawl just dancing under the surface.

“Bunyun? No ox I can see around, so I can only assume you’re offendin’ Diesel here.” He bent down close again. “They might not be your friends but who are?” He paused, drawing a breath in. “I don’t even have to be this close to smell the reek of week old booze on you. So who’s got your back here? Anyone that might cause problems for me down the line?” Again he paused, rumble low in his throat as he considered. “But then again, you… you might not have anyone in your corner, huh? Mess like yourself.”

There was an intensity about the man standing before her. So tall he had to practically crouch in order to get as close to Cassidy as he was. Though he was lanky, there was something powerful about him. Perhaps that was why he was so willing to get close to what she could only assume he thought as a possible threat. Then again, the redhead figured. The fact that she was trussed up like a fuckin' thanksgiving turkey probably helped matters.

Well. As far as he was concerned. Though her expression didn't betray any pain, she'd twisted her right wrist in a way that felt half like she was breaking it. The claws that had formed, curling over her fingertips, shredding away at the rope keeping her left hand bound behind her back.

She'd expected a handfull of things, lot of reactions. Annoyance or anger or straight violence from her demeaning terms. From her thinly veiled warning. But instead, the man grinned. A wide, cheshire smile, one that took her slightly aback as her nose wrinkled. Then, the mother fucker started to talk.

Now piercing blue eyes shifted from him to the man he gestured to. "If he has the presence of mind to be offended." She bit out toward him. Lashing out at anyone at this point. Then, the man leaned even closer, her body naturally recoiling against the tree at his proximity. And his next words.. well. They stunned her. Her expression seemed almost blank as she stared at him. Cause.. problems for them down the line. Were they going to take her? Fuck.. fuck.. they hadn't let her go for a reason. They were going totake her. Her attempts to get out only intensified. To the point that the knot behind her was nearly completely frayed. As he spoke, every fucking word coming out of his mouth.. glaringly caustic. Glaringly true. Everyone she'd ever had in her corner, she'd eitehr left. Or they'd left her. Alexi came to her mind.. a memory that was so vicious in the way it clung that it showed for a split second in her expression. A micro-second. Only, that expression was turned into something of triumph and brutal, wild aggression as 2 things happened simultaneously.

The rope behind her flung open with a snap as she clawed the last of it free, was the first. And the second, was a surprisingly powerful, incredibly perfectly aimed left hook, directly into the man's nose. "Who's the mess now, mother fucker?" She bit out, using the confusion of her surprise attack to lunch forward, headbutting his stomach, before turning on her heel in a stumbling, still half drunken attempt to bolt off into the nearby lining of forest.

hauntedghcsts:

Up close and personal, he could now see the devastation that had been visited upon this woman, both recent and past. A thick scar traced her jawline, pink and new enough to stand out under the dirt covering her face, while the dirt had been smeared with blood around her mouth from the blows taken in this camp. She looked like she wanted to bite his fingers off, but he admired the fight he could see simmering in her eyes. Until she opened her mouth. Sighing, his shoulders slumped. Pope turned and looked down at the closest raider on the ground, pointing his knife at the injured man.

“I speak English jus’ fine, right?” Receiving no response, he looked up at his nearest men, Diesel and Raf. They both nodded, Diesel with his wild grin he always wore after a beatdown. “Jus’ fine.”

It was drawn out, exaggerating his drawl in a way that made himself chuckle, slow and lazy. He slid his knife back into the back of his belt and leaned up against the side of the tree, eyeing this woman closely. He was near enough he could feel the heat from her skin, how her chest heaved up and down, the tension in her muscles. How she jerked against the ropes to pull away from him. He looked back at Raf and Diesel, the former looking curious and the later still coming down from the headrush all jittery movements. Raf twitched his fingers, the small tic known to Pope as his shorthand for get on with it.

“So why were ya in this camp, fille?” He leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear. “I would hope these pricks aren’t ya friends, as they seemed mighty keen to hurt ya.” He pulled back, positioning himself square in front of her. “So what’d ya say for yourself, fille?”

She looked like a trapped, feral creature. In more ways than one. Even with the dirt and blood coating fair, freckled skin and tangling and matting her hair. When she spoke, when she bared her teeth, there was somethnig particularly noticable about her canines. Mostly the fact that they were sharp. Lending her pointed little face and bright green eyes and red hair to look more foxish than anything else. As he sighed, a lot, huff of apparent annoyance, Cassidy rolled her eyes. Lips parting in another little scoff as he reiterated that he spoke english. Getting this merry little band of lost boys to agree with him. Yeah. Because that actually mattered.

Her head was fucking splitting, not just from the hangover already beginning to develop but from the fact that it had been cracked hard into the ground. Oh, and fucking punched repeatedly. Her stomach turned, and her heard was beating a mile a minute. So quickly that her pulse could be seen in the hollow of her throat. There were too many of them. Unknown, too fucking close. And she was too goddamned vulnerable like this. So of course, like a cornered wild animal. She lashed out. "Oh shit. I just felt like a fuckin' party. You know. Nothing more fun or thrilling than a handful of filthy assholes manhandling and beating the shit out of me. Yeah. We're besties. That one over there?" Her chin jerked to the unconscious man that she'd nearly knocked out the first time, that had thrown the first punch. "He and I have friendship bracelets." Her voice was harsh and deadpan and blatantly sarcastic. And as he leaned in close enough to whisper, her head turned. The eyes that were initially turquoise, were now a strange, vivid sky-blue.

"Have to say for myself..? I don't think you're making a good decision here, Paul Bunyun. You oughta rethink your choices.." Her voice was caustic, and low. The words not a threat, but cryptic.

hauntedghcsts:

It was always a good feeling when a solid week of observations came together. This group had been first spotted by Gabriel, who was currently on point, and now was the time to strike. It would be as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. With him, Gabriel, Tony, Peter, Colton, Raf and Diesel? They were comfortably covered in numbers.

He lowered the binoculars, ready to give a whistle to start the…. festivities, expecting to surprise the raiders he could see walking back down the hill from the west when a loud clatter started up from the south side of the camp, kitty corner to where they were hidden. It was no doubt a rotter stumbling through the raider’s line of soup cans strung up- wait, no. He focused his eyes on the figure, stumbling through camp now. While she was covered in enough dirt and blood to be a rotter, she didn’t move slow enough. Drunk? He held up his hand to stop Diesel from running over the ridge yet. Wait, he mouthed to all the men who could see him. Wait.

Then it went slightly to shit, the raiders coming back to find this intruder and beating her halfway to hell and back. Colton next to him hissed at the first blow to her, tensing like he would launch himself into the camp as a one man army. He laid a hand on Colton’s shoulder, holding the younger man back. As much as he didn’t like it either, he had no idea if she was actually with this group or not. The answer came once they finished their beating and had her tied to a tree. Sighing, he let go of Colton with a pat, before unleashing a powerful enough whistle to be heard by Gabriel even. The fight was over painfully quick,every single raider being incapacitated, either unconscious or left groaning on the ground. Pope himself took out what he assumed was their leader, a burly man about his age, breaking a few bones and leaving him holding a shattered nose. Done with his target, he sauntered over the interesting little thing tied to the tree.

“Pardon, mon cher, but what exactly are ya doin’ here? ‘Cause my boy-” he caught a nearby Gabriel by the arm, giving him a quick head rub before releasing him, “-put estimates of this camp at three to four. Mais, with ya being here… That’s what? I reckon. Five? So how about?” With this he cut her gag, stepping back out of range of any spit or snapping teeth.

The redhead had been in a lot of fucked up situations. Plenty of them had seemed like she wasn't going to get out of them. But this.. this shit really took the cake. She'd tested the ties that bound her, and whatever else these mother fuckers were capable of. They could tie a goddamned knot. Her head was swimming, her goddamned periphery little more than a blur with the amount of alcohol in her system. But she didn't have to be stone cold sober to see the fact that these men, these raiders. They were watching her like a hawk. And after the way she'd knocked one of them upside the head with the cast iron skillet she'd had. Cassie really couldn't blame them. But blame didn't really factor into any of this. What did, however, was the slowly rising.. incredibly sobering panic that gripped her throat. The last time she'd been trapped, tied up. And as far as Cassie could tell.. this was going to go the same way.

Her panic, her growing fear was apparent in the jerky little movements as she tried to wriggle her way out of the tight binding. In vain.

Then, before Cassidy knew it. Before she could really wrap her head around it, everything changed. Everything seemed to implode in an instant. A loud, powerful whistle screamed through the air so loudly that everyone's, particularly her head jerked toward the sound. They moved fast. Fluid.. almost like one singular unit, but there was also something so destructive about them. Several strange.. dangerous men coming out of fucking nowhere. Taking down the six men of the camp with relative ease until the people who stood before her, some having taken a beating as well, were nothing like who had originally beaten her and tied her up.

When one approached.. one who seemed to be in charge, sauntered toward her, Cassidy tensed. Bright eyes, sea-green and vivid and screaming 'fight', watched the man approach as she kicked back into the rough bark of the tree. But when he spoke, she had.. a hard fucking time quite getting what he was saying. The accent, the accent seemed famliar but there was something there that her inebriated mind couldn't quite grasp. She tensed as he grabbed the other man, seeming to recoil from the approach of another, and again when he leaned down and cut her gag. But as she sat there, glaring up at the clearly arrogant man, several long seconds passed, before she took a deep breath.

"...I didn't get a fuckin' word of that buddy. Hablo.. english?"