_prettypoison_ (_prettypoison_) wrote in roadsnevertaken,

Never chase a lion's tail.

A plum colored thumbnail wedged beneath the lid of the prescription bottle, popping it open. Eve shook four or five of the large white pills out into the palm of the opposite hand and tossed them into her mouth like candy. The label read in thin, bold text Zyprexa. Take as needed. Do not exceed two tablets within twenty four hours. Take with food. Carefully she replaced the yellow-orange bottle into the secret compartment she built behind the mirror in her bathroom, turning the cold water tap on. Cupping her hands she brought some to her lips, washing away the acrid powder taste, then washing it over her whole face. It felt really good. The pounding almost stopped for a minute and she held her breath as it passed.

When she looked up into the mirror she was stunned by the void expression on her face, betrayed only a fraction by the paleness. Apparently her ability to mask the turmoil she felt inside hadn't changed. Guess I'm better than I thought. The artificial light cast lone shadows over her cheeks, illuminated a fathomless darkness it couldn't quite reach in her eyes. Eve pulled her long mane of tri-colored hair into a tight bun before turning off the water and gathering her things. The panicked screams had seeped back to the forefront of her mind with a vengeance, along with the scent of fresh blood. It took everything she had to keep herself grounded, her fists curling into two weapons of absolute fury. God, even now they shook uncontrollably.

She knew.

Keishen knew.

You crazy bitch. But she knew how to lure her out of where she was hiding Keiko, how to make the screams just loud enough that she couldn't block them. How to speak right to the Deathseeker inside of her, surround her with blood and vicious killing. This was all happening because she hadn't murdered that insane woman when she had the chance, because she hadn't prevented it. Christ, -children- were dying. She couldn't even look at Keiko right now because Eve knew.

They were all her friends.

Heavily soled black boots thudded methodically down the marble hallway as Eve made her way to the only locked room in her entire maison. Skilled fingertips danced nonchalantly over the proper digits, typing in the key code that she, and she alone, knew; moments later a metallic blue pad slid out from a space beside the door and Eve placed her hand across it, patiently waiting. Several identical needles entered the skin of her hand, drawing blood. Within ten seconds her DNA was confirmed in the main databank and the electronic mechanism on the door clicked open, moving across with a hiss from years of disuse. The room was draped in a suffocating cover of darkness. There were no windows or other entrances, to discourage infiltration.

"Lights to dim," she commanded.

Immediately the surrounding lights reacted to her voice signature and raised their level of luminosity -- shedding light on the plethora of glass cases that ran from floor to ceiling, as well as the many chests and other smaller display cases scattered everywhere in perfect order. Each one contained an arsenal that would make the trigger-happy dance in small circles of joy. Immediately she went around and began typing in numbers faster than anyone normal could perceive, opening specific cases. Eve fitted two of her favorite black guns to the straps that criss crossed over her chest, making sure they were loaded and ready for use, then placed two more with neurotic precision on the outside curves of her upper thighs, strapping them in. Snatching up the sheaths that were built for her forearms from one case she slid them on and equipped them with a menacing, jagged hunting knife each, as well as several small needle-heads which she tucked into the tiny pockets meant for them. Black leather gloves hugged her knuckles as she tugged them on. They went perfect with her black tanktop and matching cargo pants. Two more bands were placed around her upper arms, equipped with another array of sharp, unpleasant weapons. Around her waist she looped the leather belt, using it as yet another place to hide guns and knives. On either leg she placed holsters for another two guns and some arsenal. Some odd shaped round balls were tucked into little pouches on her pants.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Eve didn't turn around at the intrusion of the voice. "I thought you were visiting with Keiko."


The conversation was abruptly severed as the door to the glass case came down, and she locked the rest of the things up as before. When she finally chose to pivot on the balls of her feet it was enough to make the man standing there stop what he was about to say to her and stare. Eve finished placing a deady needle in the bun of her hair, attaching twin throwing stars cleverly disguised as earrings. Christ, she almost wanted to grin. She must've looked like a walking weapons unit the way she was now. The trenchcoat she draped over herself cloaked her in a way that it shouldn't have been able to, and when she sheathed her favored sword on her back it was the finishing touch. Her father's sword. They both knew how serious this had gotten.

Blue-violet eyes simmered brightly with the raging of the killer inside of her, stoked further by the silence that followed the screams. It colored the air around her. If Keishen wanted a fight, if they all wanted a fight, she would give them one. A near primal growl passed over her pale lips as she tested one of the arm sheaths, popping the knife into her hand perfectly. The wrong person didn't want to get too close to her, or they'd end up shishkabobbed.

"Gotta go," she whispered.
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