Cubicle Memories [MM]

[Fleur]

Without the bright lights of the office building, hidden away from the impending sunrise, Fleur began to traverse the numerous tunnels hidden away in the abandoned sewer. She knew the layout by heart, so she didn’t need the handmade map on her cell phone anymore. Dorothy was a decent scout, fluttering about, playing an imaginary game of hide and seek. Fleur, to date, hadn’t come upon anyone else who could see Dorothy, so the girl could make all of the noise she wanted, as long as she didn’t draw on electrical sources for energy. The sewers were made up of dark tunnels, bare bulbs flickering in and out lighting some of the darker parts of the underground, but the place wasn’t supposed to be for humans, not anymore. The tunnels belonged to vampires, which piqued her curiosity. Why would a human decide to hunt there? Fleur supplied her own answers to the question. Some humans liked to hunt the things of nightmares. And there were true hunters, of course. She hadn’t forgotten hunters. She’d come across a few paladins lurking in sewers before, but that had been some time ago. Then again, she’d spent time in the shadow realm, time traversing between here and there, so things might have slowly progressed, leaving her behind.

Dorothy darted from around a bend and hid behind Fleur, as if someone waiting there could actually harm her. ”You realize you’re a ghost, yes? Nothing is going to harm you here. The necromancers seeking refuge here are hardly capable of dealing with you.” Dorothy looked up at her and slowly took a few steps from behind her, the words comforting her. Fleur patted the air above the girl’s head, her nose wrinkling at the view of Dorothy’s brain. ”How many were there?” Fleur unzipped the bottom of her jacket and revealed the handgun at her waist. ”You know I do better with the in-training sort.”

”They’re the real deal, the really real deal. Maybe we should run.” Dorothy shifted on her feet, her black Mary Janes causing no disturbance in the puddle where the girl stood. Fleur sighed, then looked in the direction of the bend, where the prophets were likely lying in wait. Dorothy hissed her name and she huffed. ”They really hurt you the last time!”

Fleur adjusted her grip on her gun, then bit down on her lower lip, her mask wrinkling for the gesture. She really did have issues with the prophets, though the practice fighting with them only increased her overall fighting skill. She could adapt -- she knew she could adapt -- but losing meant wounds and wounds slowed her down. Then there was the fact that their priority was likely slipping away, the precious seconds allowing Valerian to put further distance between them. When gunshots started, the loud sounds echoing throughout the tunnels, Dorothy let out a horrified screech and slapped her palms over her ears, as if the sound actually hurt her. Fleur made the decision to leave the tunnel, to alter their route, so Dorothy went off ahead again; together, they followed the sound of gunfire, only for more gunfire to sound in the opposite direction. The sounds echoed off the slick walls and dripping ceilings. She had two options, and then two quickly turned to three. She wished she’d taken up tracking rather than performing rituals.

”Fleur, behind you!”

Fleur felt the oddest sensation come over, to the point where she physically froze, her breathing coming out in one short gasp. The first gunshot had her eyes widening, but she didn’t feel a single bullet. When the moment passed, she turned around and narrowed her eyes at the necromancer woman. Fleur turned the same power onto the necromancer, while she ducked into a small side section of the tunnel. She fired two shots, one missing and one connecting, then she hid behind the corner again. The shadows around her rose up to encompass her, sharp black blades of darkness that struck her in the gut. She took a moment to gather herself, then she healed the wound to the best of her abilities, stopping herself from losing more blood. She shifted into her war form, but was forced back before she could attack. Dorothy hovered, fretting over her as if Fleur would suddenly keel over.

Plague.

The word was soft, carried along through the tunnel like a whisper on a breeze. Fleur left her cover and shot several bullets, all of them hitting the necromancer in the face. When the woman tried to escape, Fleur shot her leg, then aimed at her face once more. The woman fell to the ground, a bloody mess, and Fleur changed directions, chasing that whisper. Dorothy shouted at her to wait. Fleur thought she recognized his back, so she stood in the middle of the tunnel, watching him step over the broken remains of his own victim.

”The city appreciates you combating that plague, Valerian. To be honest, you didn’t strike me as the fighting type,” Fleur squinted at him, the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling overhead choosing that moment to flicker several times. She shied away from the light, and she recognized then that she hadn’t put her gun away, though its existence shouldn’t have been surprising to the man, not in the infested sewers where they both clearly hunted.

[Valerian]

Valerian continued on, the next vampire he met against didn't fare much better. They were unprepared for the assault and their dead skin gave them away as what they were. These followers must learn that there is nothing but pain left for them in this world. However, Valerian would soon find his adventure interrupted as he heard gunfire from elsewhere, down the tunnels. Hard to pinpoint the location, but there were definitely others fighting in the tunnels. That wasn't really surprising. These tunnels knew of death.

So he continued as he did before. Careful where he went. Careful what he did, until he heard a voice, he turned his head peering through the flickering lights. The woman again. Holding a firearm, well, anyone in this city should really. however, not everyone had the bravery to enter the sewers, especially these. He let out a slight chuckle at her comment, mostly about the fighting type, he turned to face her. Recognizing her not wanting to stay in the light. Not a great sign. But he didn't have enough evidence to know anything yet. She had to be something, however, Valerian wasn't yet convinced on what. Vampire was the easiest assumption, naturally. However, he considered the possibility that she was a human of a special kind. Or perhaps in some way related to his won kind. No not a Jorogomo, but he'd met a Harpy before that had made him realize she wasn't human nor was she vampire. So because of that feeling, he wasn't convinced...yet. But he was considering it.

"Probably not, I doubt they know." He said shrugging as he stepped closer, though her kept the weapon barrel down and to the side, "And, anyone can be the fighting type if they're pushed far enough. I've been in this city long enough to know some of the groups that need to be reigned in."

He wasn't speaking loudly, it was soft, so that his voice wouldn't carry too far, and so that he could hear anyone approaching, "You though, wearing a mask, and yet entering a place like this?" he prompted, "Suppose you were following me then. You aren't normal, and I think we both know that. But what you are, that's a bit elusive. Vampire, paladin, thief, magician, something even more uncommon."

"So, why are you here? Mere curiosity doesn't usually bring someone to places like this." He added. He was quite happy he hadn't displayed some of his more...clear powers yet. His war form would have been a dead give-away as to exactly what he was. There were other powers that might have given him away, but been a little less clear. He'd have to be careful what he said.

[Fleur]

He was smart, though still peculiar. And more than that, he was right. Anyone could be the fighting type, especially when cornered, and she wondered if either of them felt cornered. She didn't want to know what he was capable of, to be honest. Fleur wasn't a fighter; even as a human, she'd shied away from violence, even when cornered, especially when cornered. She had the wounds to prove that she'd been a coward, that she'd run away when she should have fought, fought like her life depended on it; in the end, she'd made the wrong choice. Even Dorothy didn't know about her past, because she thought it best to skip over the details. What happened that night, when her sire had saved her, was ingrained, even though she couldn't recall faces or names, she recalled the sound of voices; she'd never forget those voices. Fleur lost herself for a moment, the voices surfacing, the whispers starting. No, she wasn't a monster. And no, it wasn't her fault that she'd let the dog out and he'd been hit by a car. She was sorry, so, so sorry. Dorothy called her name, hand passing through her shoulder, leaving a chill behind.

"Come back, Flower. You're alright," Dorothy spoke, voice pulling Fleur from the edge of a proverbial precipice. For a moment, Fleur looked at Dorothy, really looked at the girl, unconcerned with the fact that Valerian could see her staring off to the right, taking in the girl's lips that moved and moved for words she missed.

”Yes," Fleur finally responded, "the fighting type." And his words continued.

Her meltdown had lasted seconds, though her thoughts still felt jumbled. She needed to water her plants. That thought surfaced, acting like a chain to try and drag her back in again. He listed off possibilities and the truth clawed its way up her throat, vocal cords stretching, stretching, stretching. She always told the truth, so when he presented those options, she carefully considered every one. She did consider herself a novice magician. Oddly enough, George had taught her how to do cards tricks and pull loose change from behind her ears. But Valerian didn't seem to think she'd respond, so she bit back words and moved on, just as he'd moved on, or so she thought.

What had she been hoping to find? Him. His secrets. His thoughts. Everything about him. She was fascinated, and she liked to figure people out, to follow and investigate until her need for knowledge ebbed. ”You're odd. Just as you said, mere curiosity," Fleur trailed off, listening to Dorothy beg her to lie, just lie already. "I do consider myself a magician though, but I'm a novice at best. Perhaps I can show you my card tricks."

It was an odd way to turn the conversation around, but she was also odd. And it wasn't the end. She felt that urge to continue. ”Why are you here? Most people come here to test their skills. Are you a hunter of the supernatural sort?" She inched her way through the shadows on the edge of the light, her gun still aimed at the sewer floor. The place was damp and smelled, but she'd grown used to the odor.