Sound of Madness-(Closed)

[Satine]

The sparkle of the ring on the necromancer’s pale finger had not diminished whatsoever. The ring shined against the odds despite the fact it had been chopped and boxed up resting in the ashes of what was left of her ring finger. That same box was delivered to her husband, Andrew Shedim. Something like that should be traumatic all on it's own but the fact that it was her sire-brother-in-law...which law was still her unanswered question...was the one that was responsible for cutting it off was what still ate away at her. Not just the dismembering but the free toss out of the walls surrounding the lobby of what she now referred to as Hotel Hell. It was just not going away. That gnawing in that spot deep down between her chest and her gut. That place where the fire burns that keeps someone fighting, not breaking or backing down.

The slide of her hands drifted down to the ends of the smooth surface bathed in the blue and black lights of Wonderland Bar. Satine stepped around from the working space of the first floor serving area just beyond the live dj booth. Silver orbs followed the path of patrons heading back towards the entry point for the VIP room upstairs. Percy crossed her visual tracking and distracted her briefly due to what he was carrying in his hands. A blowtorch. The click of her sharp heels starting on the task of catching up with him sounded louder than usual since the music was on stand by while the featured dj was filling up on drinks to take back to the booth.

“Percy…” She called out to him as she moved faster. “Where are you going with that?”

Catching up with the long legged male covered from forehead to toe in red latex was not so simple without standing out more than she already did in the busy club. Percy was special. Special enough he belonged in Wonderland. Satine hated to think what the outside world would do to him if she had not plucked him out of the place she did and brought him to the Rabbit Hole to discuss his future.

“I am going to deal with this once and for all!” The tone of his voice raised above the squeak of her cool skin meeting up with the latex that stopped moving in front of her. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed herself back. “I have had enough of it.”

Satine reached out her hand while a brow lifted. When Percy's hand didn't extend towards her to offer up what he was holding she bridged the empty space between them and pulled the small blowtorch from his possession.

“Yeah, I get that but you do not get this…” The petite black head shook back and forth slowly. “I have enough problems in the top floor with the chicken roaster catching on fire every other night." Wonderland and those that inhabited it were full time jobs to manage. “Percy, you need to play nice or you can’t work upstairs with others. Understood?”

Satine looked at the curl of her petite pale fingers around the butane flame source while Percy squeaked off to the elevator to head upstairs. The music in the club started up. Odd enough Shinedown’s "Sound of Madness" started up overhead. It was a bit unusual so early in the night but it didn’t register until the voice found a way to hook her with its message. Each step she took carried her with increased purpose and focus until she bypassed her office and straight to the front door.

The contrast of silken black straight hair and strikingly white skin was divided by the deep barely there red color brushed over her lips. Silver orbs pierced the darkness she exited into. The blowtorch was still in her hands when she slid into the relic of a classic car. The black Crown Victoria fired up and rolled as expected out of the parking lot of the club and towards the shop where she was intending to follow through with what she should have done long ago but never got around to. It was time to get things tied up before the end of the year. Tied up in more ways than one.

A series of sharp unmistakable clicks followed her steps into Riverwood Market. With the pull of her hand the sound of her arrival was as soft as the hiss of the door sinking back into the steel door frame. The scent of skin wearing their natural salt lingered in the air. The brush of the tip of her tongue over the cool surface of her lips had her dry and thirsty all at once. A fragile sweetness called to her in the random rush of blood pushing a little faster than average through the venous highways represented in the occupied seats of the tattoo shop. It was not just any ink den that was open after dark. No, this was just the one the black pencil skirt, v-neck cling top clad killer wanted to be in.

Masterpiece Tattoo. The place just so happened to be her sister’s business as well as her sire’s stomping grounds where some serious skin art takes place. It had been a couple months since Satine had been remotely close to either one. For good reason but she was in the house and ready to deal with it. She had been waiting to get something set into her flesh and now that she was there it had her entertaining a whole new reason for stepping inside. The red oversized tote that had been over her shoulder since she arrived slid down her arm while the other assisted in setting her arm free. The sounds of steps across the shop floor had her attention.

“What can I do for you?...”

The male greeting her was so stunned to see her he sounded as if he lost his voice. It was written all over his face even though Satine didn’t have a clue who she was looking at. His eyes moved slowly down her body as if she arrived for some sort of random inspection. As he looked her over she did the same and wondered if he polished his bald head to get it that shiny. Babyoil perhaps? The rest of him seemed to be clean so something was up there and giving a slick freshly waxed surface for the overhead lighting to bounce off of. The sparkle of a ring on his finger caught her attention when he moved it upward with the hand it was attached to. The jewelry went back and forth casually with his thick digits at the collar of his shirt. Confusion took control of his features and sent them in a totally different placement than that relaxed welcome back smile he was wearing upon first sight of her. She smirked slowly. He had no idea who she was.

“You okay?”

Then came that sound. It was one of those that had her eyes tempted to roll upward. The annoying half effort cough and clearing his throat that people did when they wanted to say something wasn’t right but didn't know quite how to do it.

“Of course I am okay. How about you…”Satine looked towards the back where there seemed to be space to have some privacy. “You okay?”

The boss's sister didn’t wait for the man’s response. It would be wasting time. While the plan came to be in her head she took the lead and made her way back to the area she would have seen a million times...if she was Velveteen. Satine was not though. She was Alice making a house call away from her beloved Wonderland. Soon her calling card would be left and it would be very clear she was there to deliver a message. One that would not be ignored, brushed aside and most importantly not taken seriously.

The clicking sound of her steps ceased and was replaced with the hiss of her shoes turning as the man came up close behind her then stepped around and closed the door. She liked him. He was intuitive. It was a shame he wasn’t perceptive enough. There was no way in hell her sister would dress like her and vice versa. Leave it to those skeletons in the Andras closet that get out and cause someone to lose a few phalanges. A pale bejeweled hand reached into the oversized red canvas tote and pulled out a red and white swirl round gift box. When she placed it on the empty chair beneath her bag she looked over to the man staring at her with increased confusion.

“Relax and have a seat. This will not take too long, I promise.”

Crimson nails moved gracefully to pull the ribbon adorned lid off the unique gift box. It looked like a massive peppermint spiral. A grin appeared on her face and her eyes felt like they were lighting up as she set her focus on his ring and the finger it was on.

“Okay.” Little beads of perspiration dotted the forehead and the top of his head. “You sure you are okay?”
“Yes, I am. Never felt better.” Satine reached over and patted the surface of the ink chair next to her and nodded to get his attention on her hand.”Put your sexy paw right up here for me will you. I have a gift in mind and need your help.”
“Alright.” The man’s eyes looked at her as if something was off but slowly offered up his hand.
“Don’t say a word. This is a surprise.” She put her hand down firmly over his wrist and held it tight. She glanced behind him at the wall clock over the back of his shoulder. “Can you be a doll and tell me what time it is please.”

As soon as the sweaty bald head turned Chester was a silver flash of movement sinking straight down through the flesh and into the leather surface beneath. The sweet-metallic scent of blood burst into the air as the human head snapped back in horror looking at his left hand retracting minus a few fingers.

“Shhhhh….” The necromancer slapped her free hand over his mouth and squeezed until her fingernails started sinking into his ghostly pale cheeks. “I said this was supposed to be a surprise. Don’t you dare ruin it.”

Predictably a thick right hand went up in the air sailing towards her face. Satine was fast. Her reflexes were out of this world. She countered the human's move with a clasp of her own hand over his flying fist and sent it back into his nose knocking him out nearly effortlessly. As far as the necromancer was concerned humans really needed to figure out when weird **** was happening to them it was wise to ride it out just like she did as a kid. Wait till it passes. Stirring it up only makes it worse. Her reason for being there was done and over when the lid to the box was secured with the four bloody fingers inside.

With a calm and satisfied motion she used two shop towels conveniently within reach to clean up Chester before returning the custom ax back into the confines of her tote. Now that all was complete she pulled out a red ink pen and left a message on the top of the box. Anyone who complained about a gift being difficult to find certainly didn't invest in the search.

“One gift always warrants another. Keep it up. I love surprises. Don’t you? You should have seen the look on his face.- Alice.”

There was no need to take the box with her. It would stay where it was sitting and be there when the fingerless male woke up. The tattoo artist missing his talented fingers would deliver it to the boss or in the very least use it for proof that he needed immediate help.

As soon as the coast was clear and the work going on around her was keeping all distracted she disappeared as quickly as she arrived. The big black car rolled back into the night on a leisurely and carefree speed back to Wonderland. While the street lights moved over the windshield in front of her she licked the miniscule traces of the human’s blood from her fingertips. A soft and slightly off key tune was hummed through her salty sweet lips.

While the Crown Victoria floated through the intersection and turned left she was reminded there was so much that would be still need to be done. Percy would be waiting for her as well as patrons. The night was young and she was feeling better already. If only her husband was there to see what she did. When she caught up with Bugsy she would be sure not to spare any of the details. Revenge was so sweet. She could literally taste it on the tip of her tongue.

[Micah]

Blood was everywhere.

The walls were coated in the crimson fluid in random splatters. It dripped from the ceilings and his boots left red prints all over the floors from traipsing through the puddles around the chair that held one Dr Curtis Truman. He was looking a little worse for wear. It made the killer chuckle to see such a proud, distinguished man reduced to a shell of a man. The good doctor hadn’t been given a chair. That was a little too luxurious for the man. No Micah had tied him to a stool using a length of barbed wire wrapped around the upper thighs and woven around the legs for maximum damage. Dr Curtis’ ankles were secured to the stool in the same way, and the good doctor had learned hours earlier that moving caused more damage than remaining still. His hands had been pulled behind his back and secured with a pair of titanium handcuffs. Dr Curtis wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

The human had been in Micah’s tender care for the past two weeks, ever since Bunny had lured him away from the convention he had been attending. She was young, pretty and as far as the doctor was concerned - vulnerable. His mistake. He had no idea that she was leading him to his death. The look of surprise on the man’s face when he found Micah waiting for him in the alley behind his hotel would remain imprinted on his mind for a long time to come. A baseball bat to the base of the skull via Bunny was all it took for the good doctor to go down like a pile of bricks, waking up in the room he was currently a guest in. Who would have thought such a small blonde could pack such a punch when swinging a seemingly innocent baseball bat?

“Wakey, Wakey Dr ****.”

Micah slapped the human on the side of the head a few times until those tired, pained eyes opened and looked at him. For days they had pled with him even as Dr Curtis had tried to talk his way out of the mess he had found himself in. And each day Micah had gotten an insane amount of sadistic satisfaction out of watching that hope fade only to be replaced with fear at first. After the fear came the resentment and after the resentment finally came acceptance. The human knew he was going to die. But before he was granted death, the killer was going to make damn sure that he knew why he was strapped to a chair and fed blood via an intravenous drip.

“Just ******* kill me already.”

The sound of the human’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Snarling, Micah backhanded him and watch in fascination as a couple of teeth flew through the air. “Shut up, Dr ****. I’ll kill you when I’m damn good and ready to kill you.” The human laughed rather bitterly and grew a pair of balls by spitting a mouthful of blood at Micah. It missed by inches and only served to piss him off all the more. “Alright then. If you’re so anxious to die, let’s just get this show on the road.”

The killer moved to the corner of the room where the file Bunny had gotten for him lay on a crate far away from the blood. Retrieving a picture Micah returned to stand in front of the human, holding it up so Savannah’s face would be seen. Recognition lit those tired, dead eyes and Micah offered a grim smile. “I see you recognize my mother.” Recognition turned to horror. “That’s right. You’re here because she’s dead and I hold you responsible for it.” The human started to beg and plead for his life once again, assuming that Savannah’s loving nature was present in her son but it wasn’t. Micah didn’t care that Savannah wouldn’t have wanted him to become a murderer. Too much blood already stained his hands and no amount of washing would ever get the stains off. “Keep her name out of your mouth.” He drew his firearm and pressed the barrel right between Dr Curtis’ eyes. “I’d ask you to tell Savannah hello, but since you’re going to hell you won’t be seeing her.” He flicked off the safety and started to pull the trigger. The crack of the bullet would offer so much-

Micah’s eyes snapped open and he sat up, looking around the room wildly only to discover he was in his bed, in the Eyrie. Not in a dark, dank room that reeked of blood and fear. He turned his head to discover that his wife was sleeping peacefully at his side, her sleep undisturbed and for that he was thankful. If she knew about the dreams that plagued him nightly she might start to become a little bit concerned. He couldn’t have that.

Something had woken him from his sleep but he wasn’t quite awake enough to realize that his phone was buzzing quite insistently on the bedside table. It would fall silent only to start back up a few seconds later and this time when it did, the killer reached for the device before the persistent caller could hang up or be sent to voicemail. “Hello?” He coughed to clear the sleep from his voice as a hand rubbed over his face. “Wait what? Slow the **** down Twitch I can’t ******* understand you.” Micah frowned and held the phone away from his ear since his employee hadn’t heard a word he said. “Wait. Hold up. Vel is right here in bed beside me. There is no way in hell she was in Masterpiece tonight.” He threw the covers back and slid out from beneath the sheets.

His bare feet made no sound as he moved through the space he shared with his wife, intent on getting to his laptop to view the security footage. “Dude, if you accuse my wife one more time I will terminate you. I don’t ******* lie, and I would send you a picture to prove it to you but as she's in bed and not wearing anything you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.” The killer was getting pissed off and it was quite clear from the tone of his voice that Twitch was one accusation away from being canned.

It didn’t take long for Micah to discover who had been there. Satine. No way in hell would Vel be caught dead wearing anything that Satine found fashionable. Twitch’s words finally managed to penetrate his sleep fogged brain. “What do you mean, there’s been an accident?” Dread started to form in the pit of his stomach. “A gift? Open it.” Protests came from the other end of the line. “Twitch open the ******* box if you want to know where his goddamn fingers are!” Micah knew exactly what was in that box and if the startled shouts from the other end of the line were anything to go by his suspicions were correct. Guns’ fingers were nestled on a bed of cotton wool put there by a crazy sadistic ***** who shared not only Vel’s blood but his as well. “Listen to me carefully. Get those fingers on ice and get Guns and the fingers to the hospital, immediately. Hopefully it’s not too late to reattach them. I’ll be there as soon as I deal with the person who did this.”

The call was ended and Micah headed back to the bedroom to get dressed, anger licking at his insides. So Satine had found her claws had she? Too bad for her she picked the wrong person to target. It appeared that he needed to step up his game. How, he wasn’t exactly sure but as he secured his weapons on his person he knew one thing - Satine Andras was going to discover just who the crazier one was. “Game on *****.”

[Satine]

Satine found her way into her office and with a casual brush of her fingers on the black door it soon closed. The red tote previously in her possession was stored neatly where it always was when she was not on the move. Chester, however, was present and within reach as always. Much like a jedi with it’s lightsaber so are Satine and Chester. It was turning out to be another night dealing with books, orders and general staff issues that always came up around this time of the night. The warm blooded finally went to sleep and the cold blood reigned the darkness. Some night owls still floated around and it just so happened one in particular knocked at her door.

“Come in.” The necromancer with an odd taste for formality in the rising club ignored the option to respond physically with opening the door. Instead she stayed put and announced her permission for entering the office from the chair she sat in.

The door opened and just as she had suspected it was Juice Box on the other side. The weight of the world appeared on his shoulders when he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Something was on the man’s mind as he stepped closer to the desk and looked down at the empty chair and nodded at it.

“Sit, Juice.” Pale fingers fold up the liquor vendor catalog in front of her as she proceeds to give him her undivided attention. “You see an empty chair in here you know it is yours.”
“Alright.” The massive chest beneath the double breasted charcoal suit relaxed with the long exhale that followed.
“What is up?” Silver orbs set on his face searching for clues as to what had the normally cheerful blood thief looking like his world was giving him trouble.
“She threatened to kick me out again.” The large frame in the chair settled back and one trunk sized leg stretched out a little farther than the one next to it.
“Then you can take a room in the penthouse until she calms down.” Satine’s advice was simple enough. It wasn’t like she had heard this before from Juice Box. He was with a warm blooded female and she figured the last time he brought this up she was pregnant. She sighed. “Serious?”
“What?” His eyes dodged hers briefly then finally met up and widened. “It is some messed up ****, right?”
“That you knock her up and she hates you for nine plus months?” Satine leans into the edge of the desk and is grateful she will never know what it is like to be held back by anything but the firm section of her belly. It will never protrude or rise to the size of an overinflated balloon. “I don’t get it. Women usually kind of enjoy the other responsible party to be around and keep them company but not Veronica. Did you forget last time she tried to kill you...twice?”
“Yeah, but she got over it.” The leg slid back and he sat up straight as if it would help the situation he was currently in. “So, I figure that is what I am in for again.”
“I will have Percy set up a place upstairs for you and give her full run of your house until she asks for your help.” She logs into the business account and transfers money into the one set up for Juice. “She going back to her mother’s again?”
“Yes. She is gone. Threatened to cut off my parts before she left.” He chuckled which had his boss look at him curiously. “Her mom said she is sending out her husband’s men to shorten my legs for me.”
“That is seriously messed up, Juice. All the women in the surrounding area and you hook up with a praying mantis.” Satine slides the liquor catalog over to Juice for his opinion. “We need some new drinks. Anything in this that appeals to you?”
“Boss see this yet?” Juice asks as he thumbs slowly through the glossy colorful pages. “I can’t see him digging the paper umbrellas in the drinks.” The catalog is fanned through then a few pages are flipped back. “Here you go.” The booklet is dropped on the surface of the desk with a large finger pinning it down to point out what has his attention. “There is your answer.”

Satine cocked her head slightly and looked down. Of course. She was looking at the sports theme section. They had New York Yankees glassware, drink mixes and bar decor. She turned the page and found the rival team items as well. Juice quickly took hold of the catalog and tore out the other pages listing other teams.

“Sorry, Boss lady.” His thick meat hooks rolled the pages into tight little balls and shoved them in his suit pockets as he stood up. “I know those will not be permitted on Wonderland property. I need to meet up with a delivery downstairs. Call me if needed.”

With that the door to her office opened and closed leaving Satine looking at Yankee’s drink mixes.

[Micah]

“I see you’ve found your claws, kitty cat. Too bad you’re pulling the tail of a much bigger predator.”


The words were pushed into her mind with none of the gentleness that was offered to his wife when he spoke to her in that way. He kept his anger under wraps for the time being but Satine would have to be a fool to think that the devil wasn’t hot on her trail. The killer had laid low, left her alone since taking her finger and he’d honestly thought that she was surrendering in this game of insanity they were engaged in. But she hadn’t given up. She pushed back, but instead of going for someone that could defend themselves she took it out on someone who made a career out of tattooing. The game had been elevated to new heights and after what she had done to Twitch well, Micah refused to allow his psychotic sister in law to win. His hand curled around the handle of the blade his wife had given him. “I’m gonna shove this blade so far up your *** ***** it’ll come out your mouth.” A cold smile curved his lips upwards, the anticipation of the inevitable confrontation already warming him from the inside.

“I’m coming for you *****. Are you ready to play?”

More words were thrown into Satine’s mind as he moved past the ritual altar heading for the elevator. The door opened, revealing the network of portals that would take him anywhere in the city. He had a general idea of where she would be hiding and he planned to take his time, intent on toying with her the entire time he searched. How easy it would be to summon her, or use the ritual to find her. But that would take the fun out of it and this game, while sadistic and cruel, was meant to be fun. The killer certainly planned on enjoying it but Satine? He doubted she would be having much fun by the time he was done.

“Remember when I killed your loser husband you psychotic ****? No? Remind me to show you before I remove your head from your shoulders.”

Micah chuckled out loud as he sent the next message, drawing several wary glances. He met each one with a glare and went on his way. Humans moved from his path sensing that there wasn’t something quite right with him. That suited him just fine. The less obstacles he met on his way to deliver Satine her well deserved *** kicking the better. Hopefully by now Satine had taken measure to protect herself. It would just make this whole thing that much more interesting, but it wouldn’t stop him. Satine knew that. She knew what he was like. If he promised pain then she sure as **** knew she was going to be handed one hell of a dose. And if she didn’t know it? Well, it really sucked to be her.

Wonderland loomed in front of him halting his progress. She was in there. He could sense her like he could sense when the rest of his blood was near. His head rolled on his shoulders and he strode forward, shoving the door open so hard it flew back and hit the wall with a resounding thud that sounded like a cannon shot. It was relatively empty, save for a few drunks that scattered when they saw the look on his face. There was no need to send her a telepathic message this time. His voice as he shouted for her sounded like thunder as it echoed throughout the room.

“SATINE! COME OUT YOU COWARDLY ****!”

[Satine]

Micah was in her thoughts in more ways than just one. He was barraging her mind with reminders she was pulling the tail of a much bigger predator. She was not sure if could sense her reaction but ‘no ****?’ came to mind.

Was she ready?

Satine’s necromancer lie influenced lips twitched. Oh yes she was. It had been too long since she lost her head over anything worth noting. The real question was did Micah Andras have what it would take to really make that happen? It was a hell of a thing to say to a woman like her.

Suffice it to say the energy of the storm brewing was powerful to Satine. It was in fact a rush to the necromancer. A surge of the most intoxicating kind. Some searched for the promising bite of a needle sinking slowly into their skin that was impatiently followed by the press of the plunger that delivered the mind blowing, gut constricting icy jolt into their veins. Others craved the feeling of cool glass in their hands with a pool of amber liquid that they could drown in to evade the depressing weight of the world settling down over their shoulders. Satine craved what was arriving through the doors of the club with such a thunderous arrival that rivaled the hurricane of fury that preceded it several months back.

Squeaking in the distance was loud enough that the bar owner realized that more than the predictable storm was finally rolling in. The raven haired business owner nudged the rolling desk chair back and left the space where she was looking over last minute drink supplies that needed to be ordered. Her office door opened and the expected vividly appeared. Percy was producing the panting sound of an over exerted body on the move along with the chorus of latex sticking inconveniently to the tile beneath its quickening pace.

“What the hell was that?!” Percy choked to catch his breath then looked over his shoulder like the sounds of the heavy steps carrying the storm closer were about to use him for a springboard. “Who did you piss off now?”

Satine’s silver gaze glanced casually over the doormat wannabe’s shoulder and felt the slight lift of the left side of her mouth rise to the occasion. She had pissed off many but recently it was pretty easy to guess who was coming in for another round. Her eyes locked on Chester and her hand reached out for the custom ax.

“Aww **** this!” Percy whined out as the squeaking of his feet moving resumed. “I am taking a break. Back when the smoke clears.”
“No surprise there.” The words were soft in their release over her lips.

Percy was no knight in shining armor and never would be. He had his role and he fully owned it. Why would she expect anything outside of it? It would be like anyone else expecting the petite necromancer to run and hide instead of walk confidently with Chester in hand to the open doorway of her office where a red streak effectively disappeared in safe escape. Satine was like a battleborn force moving head on and confident toward the one who made her the monster she was.

“You can’t simply walk in and blend like the rest, can you?”

Satine called out loud and clear. As she did she felt the flesh of her gums itch as the thin layer stretched to accommodate the throbbing hold of the lions jaws that wanted to be let loose to the world around her. The sharp click of her steps lightened as did her effort to take another. She felt the air grow colder and charged with the rising tempers that were igniting between them. The young vampire did not have a plethora of fancy powers at her disposal that her sister and brother-in-law had but she had no fear and was tenacious. What she did have she would use until she had nothing left and even then she wouldn't back down.

“This is my house so show some god damned respect!” Chester was squeezed tighter in her grip and it felt so good it would be considered a sin if she constricted the weapon any harder.

Satine entered the main floor of the club like she owned it and everything above and below it. Being called a cowardly **** was not enough to get under her skin. She knew damn well she wasn’t. She had balls of steel and Micah Andras knew it. What got her worked up and ready for a battle with the titan of a killer vampire her sire was known to be was that he scared the **** out of Percy and was busting down her business door. That was not going unnoticed. Of course he sounded mad as hell and that was fine with her. She was in a raging mood as soon as he barged his way in her door. The rattle of the fixtures and the flickering of black and blue club lighting was the first warning he would get.

[Micah]

She appeared like the angel of death, but there wasn’t a ******* thing angelic about Satine Andras.

The clicking of her heels across the floor grated on his nerves and her voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. In other words she sounded like a dying banshee. When she appeared in his line of vision a cold smile curved his lips. ***** had come to play after all. Good. It was time to bring her down a few pegs. By the time he was finished with her she was going wish she had never killed her stepfather and left Australia. She was going to wish that she had never looked for her sister. She was going to wish that she had never fought him at every turn and gone against every single warning he had given to her. Satine was in too deep now and it would take months, if not years, to claw her way out of the hole she had dug herself into. Micah had no sympathy for her. She’d brought it on herself.

“Bless your psychotic lil heart. Is that concern I hear there, Barracuda?” The club was empty now. Every single human had gotten the **** outta Dodge when he blew in through those doors like the hurricane Satine claimed him to be. “In answer to your question, no. I can’t just blend in. Not when you go off and whack off the fingers of my best artist because you were feeling daring.” His sharp gaze missed nothing. The rows of serrated teeth in her mouth amused him, as did the custom made axe she was gripping in her hands. An axe that he had made for her because it suited her, and now she was going to use it against him? Tsk. Silly little *****. “I see you’ve come prepared for battle.” **** if the anticipation wasn’t already stirring his bloodlust. The inevitable battle between sire and childe was going to be bloody, and he couldn’t ******* wait.

The problem he was having was trying to decide how he was going to wipe the floor with her first, because some simple little *** whipping wasn’t going to do this time. Her fate had been sealed when she turned her attention on his place of business. So he’d taken her finger first. He’d been nice. It was returned to Creepy in a nice, expensive box along with her ring. And, she’d been able to grow a new one without any lasting damage. Guns on the other hand wasn’t that fortunate. She’d quite possibly ended his career as an artist. The man had a family, a wife and kids and while humans weren’t something Micah normally gave a **** about, Guns was family to him just like Bunny was. It didn’t matter that he would make sure Guns’ family wanted for nothing. What mattered was Satine had crossed the line and she was going to pay for it with every drop of blood in her crazy little body.

Respect? She wanted to talk to him about respect? That was it. He was a blur of motion and color as he moved across the floor, closing the distance between the two of them. One hand wrapped around her throat, the other around her wrist, applying pressure to get her to drop the axe. His fingers had shifted, morphing into claws that pierced the delicate skin on her neck. Drops of the crimson fluid ran down the pale flesh and stained his fingers but that wasn’t near enough to satisfy him. “You don’t know the meaning of the word respect,” he hissed into her ear, tightening his grip on her throat. “You have disrespected me from the start. Ignored my warnings and have fought me at every single turn when I have only ever had your best interests at heart.” The popping of a bulb overhead didn’t escape his notice. He knew what was coming and he welcomed it. “Respect is earned you psychotic little *****, and you haven’t earned ****.”

[Satine]

Satine was not distracted by the popping of replaceable bulbs and the rattling of the fixtures that held them high in the ceilings of The Wonderland Bar. The world was rocking with her mood and she found it stimulating in all the ways that would fuel her current mood. As the fine shattered glass rained over her dark head the necromancer continued on her way to close the space between her and the one who was responsible for extending her stay in the Canadian city that never sleeps.

Micah “Hurricane” Andras, as she had been recently referring to him, was clearing Wonderland Bar faster than the law showing up in the crack house several blocks down. All types came and went in the bar but a raging wall of moving inked up flesh screaming at the top of his dead lungs was inspiration to take a step outside until things cooled off. Mistress Rose was a bolt of moving black leather out of the elevator. No pause in her thigh high boots that were on a straight shot carrying the woman to the front door as expected. Satine went through drills routinely with the staff for this very reason and it seemed to be paying off. No one was left that she could see and that was a good thing. It was going to get really messy.

All of this was on Micah as far as Satine was concerned. She lost her finger and her wedding band briefly in that unexpected and forceful storm that erupted back at the hotel and she didn’t forget it. It mattered little that it was sent back to the one who put it on her finger to begin with. One of her issues with the event was that it was not to be disrespected or up for grabs. Not even her brother-in whatever-law’s meat hooks had the right to remove what Andrew Shedim put in place. For that alone she was ready to go barracuda and a few other levels of wtf on his heaven tall ***.

Satine hissed as the heavy weight of the ax spun in a blur leaving a silver arc with the smooth and skilled rotation of her petite pale hand. It was like it was a part of her that she felt connected to. He gave it to her and despite their current state of being at odds she was damn proud of it and the skill she had developed in using it. The sire of the century was about to get a up close and really personal demonstration of just what she was now capable of.

The pull of what linked them tugged at her as the distance between them decreased with each of her steps. Even in the depths of the rage that was boiling within she could still recall the gift he had bestowed upon her that no other would be able to give her. That would be the taste of death as she would always remember it. The powerful rush that followed took her reality and set it on fire. She was conflicted eternally to the core when it came to him but she left it there. Her sister’s husband had set her off with the extreme measure he took in voicing his objection to her bond with the former Lionelli gangster. He would know it by the time she was done. No one fucks with her. Not even General Andras and his bruising brigade.

Satine’s lips parted to say everything she wanted to but the sudden bite of ice cold intent in the air moved faster than she could register. Micah was ready for the war brewing between them and his hold on her confirmed it. He had her by the throat dangling high above the dance blue on black dance floor. She wanted to react but he was quick to take claim to the wrist where Chester momentarily froze in her grip.

Satine struggled to use her voice as her jaws continued to expand. Her rage knew no limits. It went about setting off the bleeding of her gums that split to accommodate the spread of her cursed lion’s jaws. Her voice broke but it wasn’t that she was suddenly choking because she wasn’t. She didn’t need the air except to continue with the verbalization of her sentiments she was insisting on making known. She would never keep her lips shut if she had something to say and the vampire that had a choke hold on her petite neck knew it all too well. She growled out in anger and was greeted with the near drilling effect of the killer’s violent and violent penetrating focus. The pressure on her neck continued. It was about as promising as a dry twig pinched between the sharp blades of a pruner. Most would be humbled and silent at this point. Not Satine. She was more pissed off than ever.

“I see you got my gift.” Satine’s free hand went behind her back as she chuckled like she had a reason to. In a strange twist it would appear as if she was briefly amused in her current predicament. “You are welcome. I am having fun…” A soft whistle of air barely getting into her body echoed between them. Her eyes narrowed down and that dark ominous warning in her tone returned. “Are you?”

[Micah]

A rather nasty smiled appeared on his face. “Oh darlin, you have no idea just how much fun I’m startin t’have with you.” The natural southern drawl he worked so hard to hide was making its presence known. Had Vel been with him she would be glaring, telling him to dial it back because she was the only one that should be able to hear his words spoken in such a way. “The fun is just beginnin. Question is, do y’think that ya can handle the heat? Or do ya think you should tuck your tail between your legs and run like that ***** ya bound yaself to?”

He gave her throat another squeeze, allowing his gaze to be drawn to the drops of crimson that sprung to the surface. His blood. He’d gifted it to her, sacrificed weeks of calm serenity with his wife for her only for her to turn around and spit on his gift without a shred of remorse for what she had done. There were many things he could forgive. After all, everyone made mistakes and depending on the severity of the crime, everyone should be granted an opportunity to make up for that mistake. However, Satine had stepped over the line. Chasing after that Lionelli reject, trading shots with him that his wife felt and experienced. That was something he possibly would have allowed to slide had she just walked away when he told her to. But no. She took it a step further and ran off with him, tying her life to his in a way that could never be broken. Given the filth that lowlife had consorted with Satine’s choice was unforgivable in his eyes.

“I admit that I admire your ingenuity. Going after Guns was bold so I have to give you a point for that.” Eternity was in his hand. The familiar, well worn grip was a comfort to him. Every time he drew it, it was like greeting an old friend. Many had experienced a bullet from within the chamber of that gun and Satine was now going to be the next one introduced to the power within the small weapon. “However,” he drew the r out, allowing the sound to roll of his tongue smoothly before pausing. The barrel pressed against her temple lightly in a soft caress that could almost be seen as loving. “Guns wasn’t part of our game. I’m sorry Satine but that’s a strike.”

He drew the barrel down the side of her face until he reached the underside of her chin. Angling it just so he thumbed off the safety and rested his finger on the trigger. He wanted to smell her fear. Wanted to watch the light fade from her eyes as the last drops of sustaining crimson fled her body leaving just a bloodless husk behind. “I might not be able to make you respect me. I might not be able to send you to the Shadow Realm, but I can and will turn my attention to your husband. That spineless coward is no match for me and I will have no problem keeping him there until you learn the lessons I am determined to drive through your thick skull.”

Click.

BOOM.

The bullet exploded from the chamber and lodged somewhere in her head. “Come hell or highwater Satine Andras, you will respect me.” He extracted his claws from her neck and watched her drop into a heap at his feet. “You’ve chosen the hard way, and I am more than happy to oblige you.”

[Satine]

An odd reflexive twitch of her silver hued orb went with the excessive pressure applied to her windless pipe beneath the grip of a full force Hurricane Andras. A power filled lecture of not enough respect given arrived to her head loud and clear. From there it went through the cycle of everything else that was ever directed at Satine. The necromancer’s head was like a circus of constant misfortunate processes. As it worked it had accompaniment outside the backdrop of shattering lights and rattling walls. The odd sounds of a traveling violinist yet to be seen went along with the grim words of what might as well be a captain offering up a final speech while watching his ship go down. All of it and so much more cartwheeled through her imaginative head.

Like a series of colorful dancing bears his warnings tumbled through and bounced off that trampoline trigger she had on her temper when he mentioned having another go at her husband. The sounds of tires screeching and gears grinding down to a quick stop echoed in her brain. It served its purpose and the grip on the custom crafted handgun tightened up. He was done talking because no one was touching Bugsy. This was a dance for two and her husband would not be cutting in. Not that it would be a news flash to the abominable ink man with his meathooks blocking her from getting her tongue to retreat back in her mouth. The more he constricted his fingers the more her jaws went wide in warning. As far as she was concerned this impromptu pow-wow was over and the bell for the first round had been tapped with the proverbial hammer of doom.

One moment all was as it should be outside the unexpected sounds of the club front door opening. The welcoming scent of winter night air crisp charged in bowling over the warmth and smoky aroma that was constant within the interior walls. Footsteps. She counted each one. When they stopped she knew it was Casper the dirty white dj who just so happened to be best mix master Canada had a chance to hear. Familiar sounds flowed of the part time employee making his way into the booth predictably high and singing to himself. The cool end of the gun kissed her skin and slid down until it reached the underside of her jaw. The sweet spot was so vulnerable.

Seriously? What could one bullet do?

Her silver eyes rolled towards the direction of the booth where the lights kicked in. Casper was always a high one. It wasn’t even his night to work. Oblivious to the compromising scene of two bodies in the throes of a progressively violent act a few more clicks sounded and the music was ready to roll. A brief moment of chilling expectation filled her then with the pulse of the poorly chosen deep body rocking beats came something else unexpected.

Click and BOOM!

The pain racing through her head was a blinding, bone breaking epiphany. It was instantaneous and profoundly perfect in its delivery. No warning, no choice. Just how it should be. Unfortunately she was on the receiving end and the indescribable burn that coarsed like wildfire through every muscle and layer of her skin that possessed a nerve reminded her of such. She felt the cool slimy clumps of what should be in her head slide over the line of bone beneath her eye then cease to move and cling to her cheek. So much for plan A.

The sound of throbbing speakers choked out the sharp snap of the shot fired but not enough that Casper completely missed the show. As the hot lead shot its way through her skull her head snapped back like it was going with the bullet that finally lodged at the top of her shattered skull. She dropped to the floor like a rag doll discarded. The limbs of her body felt like jelly. She moaned and felt the grip on her gun lighten briefly. Then the correction of her bleeding head moving upright had her looking at a horrified expression on Casper’s face as he hopped over the elevated booth landing in a full sprint for the front doors.

Now that was another employee that Micah had managed to scare the **** out of with his uninvited arrival. The walls vibrated with the chorus of words she couldn’t understand with the new lead lodged in her tenderized brain hazing her. She released a sound that made no sense which in her condition totally seemed appropriate. As much of a punch as his shot packed it didn't shake free the reality that he was in her house! No way was she letting him lead on her dance floor. With reflexes that were becoming a bit spastic she managed to get the gun up to aim as far as his shoulder and pulled the trigger before she lost the window of control she had.

“**** shoe.” She felt one eye stay open while the other snapped shut.

What the hell did I just say?

Apparently some of her wires were fraying between her head and her mouth sending out half *** messages from her mouth. It was the thought that counted, right?

Places all. Bow to your corner. Bow to yours. Bow wow while you get ready to break it up with a dosey do.

While an unseen square dance caller was breaking loose in her head the bloody necro did the only thing she could do by raising her weapon again. A long crimson tipped finger curled again and squeezed the trigger on her gun sending the sounds of gunfire blasting between them.

"Dance bush!"

[Micah]

The discharge of the round was lost in the sounds of the song that had begun blasting through the club. People actually called this music? The killer was sure he’d never heard such a sorry excuse for a song in his entire life. He glanced over in time to see a human standing there, eyes wide, taking in the scene of Satine’s destruction at his hands. Micah started to take a step towards him, fixated on delivering the same treatment that Satine has just been on the receiving end of but the human fled. Pity. They could have really made this a party had that one stuck around. If anything, the idiot deserve a swift *** kicking for selecting a song that made no sense in a language that most probably didn’t even understand.

“Speak the **** up. Can’t understand what the **** you’re tryin to say to me.” Something about a shoe? What the hell did a shoe have to do with her being taught a lesson in respect? Though to be fair, her brain did have a hole it it. Her thinking had probably taken a wicked hit and forming sentences was hard work, especially with a bullet lodged in there all nice and cozy like. She couldn’t even open both her eyes. That bullet must have really packed a punch if this was the outcome.

Before he could comment further his gaze was drawn to her hand, still steady despite the wound she was sporting. Whatever words he had considered forming died on his tongue as pain blossomed across his stomach and up his side. He looked at her, lying on the floor at his feet to discover a gun in her hand. She’d shot him. The killer would have laughed if he wasn’t so surprised by her actions. In all honesty, somewhere deep inside he had expected this. One could only be taunted so much before they lost their **** and fought back, and Satine was no exception. Unfortunately for her it was going to take a lot more than a few bullets to the gut to slow him down.

“So that’s how it’s going to be eh?” The killer’s hand pressed against the wound. When he pulled his hand back he wasn’t surprised to see the palm of his hand stained red with blood. It stung like a ***********. Part of him was slightly impressed while the other wanted to reach down and rip her ******* head off. She was going to come to regret that shot, but he was far from finished with her. He would be surprised if he walked away with just the wounds he was currently sporting.

“Have it your way barracuda.” She could barely put two words together but that didn’t stop him from taking another shot at her. The bullet that sped out of the clip this time made it’s home dead center in the middle of her black, treacherous heart. Zero fucks were given to one Satine Andras in that moment. “Tag Alice. You’re it.”