"For those of us whose form is not humanoid enough... It is a way for us to hide in plain sight amongst humans." Burst explained to Wes. "If things were different... I would stay in this form, except for times it would be better for me to be in my human form. I never liked having to cower in that skin in order to fit in."
Burst heaved a sigh, and looked back into his past. He remembered the childhood he and his brother had.
"My older brother didn't seem to mind as much..." He continued. "He enjoyed being able to pretend to fit in with people, at least on the outside. I hated that we had to hide our true forms... But that was how it was. In your case... You are right. Without your transformational abilities, you are as a normal human. But, that is not necessarily a bad thing."
"A normal human . . ." Wes repeated, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. It seemed Burst would be perfectly happy in his natural form. The skinwalker would never willingly give up his ability to change. With the tag on he'd felt imprisoned.
"You know, I actually was 'normal' for most of my life." Wes admitted, "I was raised in human society. I didn't even know I was a mythos until . . . 6 years ago? Yeah, I think that's right."
He turned around and leaned against the wall, wringing his hands together. This was something he'd never told anyone in those whole 6 years, and by now it felt just about ready to bust out of him. He looked up at the dragonkin, then turned his gaze back down at the floor.
"Is that so?" Burst asked Wes, curious to this fact. "Odd. How did you not know?"
Burst was a bit intrigued by this revelation... Wes had been raised as a human, he had had a normal life once, raised as a normal child.... What it must have been like, Burst did not know. He hadn't been a child for many decades.
"Well I think my parents . . . well, my mother is a skinwalker like me. I wouldn't blame her for wanting to hide, but she never told me anything of the sort."
As he thought about it, he almost knew that it was only his mother who was a mythos. His father had been very vocally anti-mythos, and had indoctrinated Wesley from a very young age. She always seemed so passive-aggressive, dropping hints that they shouldn't raise such a hateful child. It was a good cover, but it didn't help.
"I found out what I am by accident . . ." Wes said, taking a deep breath. "The gist of it is that I got into a fight and turned into a bear. The people I was with turned on me, trying to kill me for 'hiding what I really was'. I guess I was lucky to get away, but I haven't seen any of my family since then."
Anthony looked at the young soldier and saw the tough decision that was easily read across his face. It was a shame to make him choose, but the man needed to settle this, or be 100% committed to the mission. He knew that he would need time though and for once, that was one thing they did have, "We'll be in base for a week, this gives me and the Mother time to formulate a plan and for all of our wounds to heal. I'll need your decision by the end of that week."
Sorry about the lack of a large update, I'll have something up once I've finished my History and Bio midterms, so sometime, most likely in the latter days of next week
"I'll have something for you by then, for sure," Justin replied, finishing off the cigarette. "Anything comes up, sir, just let me know." Taking his leave, he stepped out into the hall and meandered towards the barracks. Could I find her in a week? I'd probably be more helpful if I wasn't a plain human.
And if you find her and never come back? Face it, you're needed here.
But I need to be wherever she is... at least long enough to settle this.
The needs of the many... Entering his room, he tossed the folder on his desk without bothering to close the door. Justin took his jacket off and set it on the back of his chair, pausing long enough to close his eyes and sigh. Once he opened them, he slammed his palm down on the desk and took a seat on his bed.
Alright I'll be completely honest, this is a disturbing post it, in my opinion, barely adheres to the site's PG-13 policy but I think that it was good to truly show the crimes that people who hate other people will commit in the name of bigotry. However if posts like this make you uncomfortable please feel free to bring it up through PM, Skype or Twitter. These kinds of posts aren't going to come very often as is, but if it is something that will make one of my posters uncomfortable for whatever reason I can skip them.
Another day rose upon the city and the base. It would prove to be another day with the problems of being a condemned race. Anthony knew this was how his day would start, as he was roused awake by a terrified base worker, "Anthony, come quickly; it's important."
Anthony shook the sleep from his eyes, "What is the problem Mark?" The man's eyes reflected an utter horror that he hadn't seen in some time. Whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. Sometimes he hated being in charge; it meant you were the lucky son of a ***** that got to clean the messy things up; and without breaking down in front of the team.
He allowed Mark to lead him towards the infirmary and immediately Anthony's pulse quickened. Had one of his team died? Another idea, though more sinister yet, had they killed themselves from the trauma? These answers were thankfully no as they entered the med bay to see a small girl on the table. She couldn't have been more than 13 years old and her face was a mess of cuts and bruises. She barely looked like a person anymore; it went as far as to make Anthony almost feel physically ill, "Get Hoover," he said, a tone of hardness to his voice, a tone only reserved for when he truly had bottled some anger up, "Get her and the rest of the group in here right now."
"Anthony what will that serve?" Mark said a touch of apprehension in his voice, "I don't think you're acting in your team's best interest to see this; its a horrid sight I wouldn't wish on any-" his sentence was cut off by Anthony raising one finger to silence him, "Is she stable?"
"Yes," Mark answered shakily.
"Then wake up my team and bring them here. Am I being god damn clear enough for you Mark?"
"Crystal sir," Mark stammered before going to wake the rest of the crew. Anthony sat in the chair looking at the girl as a medic fed a breathing tube into her trachea. It was a horrible sight to see. He picked up her chart and studied it while waiting for the others to be fetched. Her name was Cheryl, she was 12 years old. Werewolf by birth; both parents. Parents killed by hunters 5 years ago; been in an orphanage since then. Apparently only the Headmaster knew about her "condition," that ruled out most people and put him as the prime suspect. The sick bastard, preying on her like that, he was lucky she hadn't changed right there and massacred him.
He stood up as the rest of the group entered the medic bay. He showed them the girl, "This is Cheryl, she was found in the slums of the city, nailed to a fence like a scarecrow, nails through her hands," fury dripped from his voice, his hands shaking as he picked up the sign that had been cruelly nailed into her chest, "This was a tasteful addition given to her by the assailant. For you who can't read it says, 'Skin them all, like the animals they are.' Very tasteful as you can see."
Anthony paused as a hairy creature walked into the med bay as well, "Good Omoi is here," the beast bowed to Anthony and walked up to the girl, "We're going to use the Satori [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satori_(folklore)]to examine Cheryl's thoughts and deduce who it is who attacked her. Then we're going to find them and make them atone for this. Call it an angelic motivation," Anthony allowed himself a smile at his morbid joke, "Alright go ahead Omoi."
The Satori nodded and closed his eyes and when he opened them they had gone pure white in colour. He spoke in a mid tone, crisp English with a slight Japanese accent to the group, though it seemed he was closer to a trance than anything, "I'm going outside to stretch my legs. My real legs that is; seem that at night is the only time I'm able to do this without getting in trouble from the Headmaster. I walk outside and am immediately lept on by James and his friend Adam. They're both 16, much older than me. I struggle but they pin me to the ground. I feel one of their tongues in my ears and I try to scream before they clamp a hand over my mouth, "Dogs don't talk, they listen to their masters," one of them says and slaps me across the face sharply. That's when they force my legs open...." Omoi shook his head; he refused to continue and there were scattered tears in his matted hair on his face.
Anthony was paler than even he thought possible from shock. When he spoke though, his voice was oddly monotone, like all emotion had been drained from him, "Skip that part then, what happened next?"
Omoi closed his eyes once again and began to speak, "After they finish, they tie my legs and hands with rough rope and begin to drag me towards the slums, where the rest of the Mythos live. They tell me its the only place that's fitting of a werewolf mascot. I'm terrified but one of them have stuffed my mouth with a gag and I find it impossible to scream. Instead I'm forced to cry as one of them holds me while the other begins to pound the sign into my chest..." Omoi's eyes cleared once again to signify that the story was over, "With your leave Sir, I need to go meditate and clear my head," Anthony nodded and the beast walked out of the room, his shoulders slightly sagged, a testimony to the emotional weight that had now settled over the room.
Azure seemed to take it unusually calm, he didn't react to the sight of the girl nor the knowledge of what she was put through, he looked at the sign for a moments, then glanced down at his left arm.
"i'll sort them out if you like." he volunteered "they're too young to be worth sending more than one person, just give me a location and i'll see to it they learn their lesson." on the surface he was calm but underneath he was itching to deal out some revenge, i'll show them exactly what they want to see, a little glimpse of hell is all it'll take. he thought to himself.
i'm fine with it, i'd consider it bad writing if you held back in an RP about this sort of stuff, war isn't without its horrors, battlefeild or no
"Despicable..." Burst said disgusted at the actions of the human boys. "Disgusting being such as them aren't even fit to be called animals. We cannot let this act go unpunished... Yet, we cannot simply go forward and retaliate with no direction. Otherwise, it would merely look like anti-human terrorism. Which is not what our goal is."
Burst looked over to Eryn, to see her reaction. This girl was a werewolf, almost kin to her. Something like this must have struck deep within her. He also looked towards Wes and the others, seeing the difficulty that they were having at looking at such a sight.
Wesley's eyes stayed fixed on the girl as he heard the story, looking over her various injuries. His face was hardened into an expression of barely-contained rage. His arms were crossed on his chest, and his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
Already his mind was reeling with different scenarios for how to make the boys pay. But surprisingly, his mind was fairly lucid. He already knew that it wouldn't do any good to kill them, as much as he wanted to. And simply torturing them wouldn't do any good either.
"It won't be 'anti-human' anything," he said to Burst, still staring at her. "They will pay, but why do we make them pay for attacking a mythos? They'll get compassion from others."
His voice was cold, but had a bitter edge to it. "All they are is rapists. Nobody will take pity on them."
"How long's she been in here?" Justin asked, rolling his sleeves up as he looked at the medics. His jacket was still in his room, leaving the pistol in the back of his pants available for anyone to see.
"Few minutes, you guys got in here right after," a medic replied, checking Cheryl's left hand. Another medic began preparing a dose of morphine.
"Hey, give her a hundred mils of that." Without waiting for a response, Justin walked over to her head and carefully began opening her mouth.
"A hundred mils for a 13 year old girl? Where'd you get your degree?"
"I got mine on a battlefield, where the hell's yours from?" He paused and glared at the medic. "Give her a hundred. She'll thank you later." He turned his head back down to Cheryl and gently got her mouth open. "No tooth displacement. How's that hand?"
"Bones moved apart, luckily the nail didn't break any. All this one needs is to be set so it heals right. Check her other one?"
"Yeah. See what the damage is on her chest." Justin turned his head to the group as he walked over to her right hand. "One of you mind making sure there's ice cream nearby? Strawberry, if possible."
Eryn stood in the back of the room, trying to stay as far away from the injured, young wolf as possible. She remained calm and her face showed no emotion, but that was a stark contrast to how she was feeling on the inside. Seeing the young pup covered in bruises and scratches broke her heart. Hearing what the human boys had done to her filled her with rage. Knowing that one of her kind had been treated as.. scum did nothing but add fuel to the fire.
Her emotionless persona was breaking and Eryn was beginning to feel tears form in her eyes.
She spoke, her voice cracking a bit. "I left Ms. Hoover alone in the living room... I'm gonna.. go check on her."
Eryn hastily walked to the door, opening it quickly and exiting the room.
Wes looked over as Eryn left the room. He had heard how unsteady her voice was. That in itself was worrying; much more-so than the fact that she hadn't been able to look at the girl. She prided herself in being unshakable and unfeeling, and the fact that she appeared to hurt told Wes that something was seriously wrong.
The skinwalker glanced back at the girl on the table, then to their General. There was no graceful way to excuse himself, so he simply rushed out of the room.
"Eryn!" he called after her, running down the hall to catch up to her.
Eryn turned around, thankful that the tears that had been forming in her eyes before had disappeared.
"What?", she asked, her voice still a bit shaky. "Listen, you should go back to the others and make sure that that girl is okay. She looked pretty messed up. If Anthony saids something about a mission then please come and get me. Until then.. just let me have some space."
"The girl isn't okay, but I'm not going to be any help to her." Wes said seriously. He watched Eryn closely, a sympathetic look about him. He could see her shaking slightly.
"I . . . I don't want to see you hurt like this." He was torn with himself. The first thing he wanted to do was comfort her or help her, but he didn't know how. All he could think of was to hug her or hold her, but he was almost afraid to touch her.
"Please. Trust me." Tentatively, he held out his hand to her with the palm up.
Under any other circumstance, she would have responded with a witty, split-second insult about how she didn't care, or something equally as ungrounded and snarky, and she would have been satisfied. But today, with everything that had been going on, the last thing she wanted to do was push away the one person who had been trying to be her friend.
She looked down at Wes' hand and slowly began to move her own. Torn, displaced and confused, she hesitated.
"Please don't make me regret my decision." She said, finally grabbing Wes' hand with her own.
He took her hand and held it tightly. "No, never."
Feeling as if he'd gotten some kind of affirmative, Wes put his other arm around her and pulled her in against him. He still didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but it felt right to him. He could only hope she felt the same, and wouldn't react negatively . . . or violently.
As the doctors worked on the young girl, Anthony sat back in a chair looking over various routes into the orphanage. Was this possibly an overreaction to this event? More than likely but it was something that needed to be done. He finally had a way in and a plan of what to do. It was dark and likely scarring for the children involved, but they showed themselves lacking already in their humanity, they were going to highlight that to the world now. He motioned for those who were in the room with him to go to their main meeting room and he set off to get the rest of them. He found Eryn and Wes together in the hallway and stopped for a moment. They reminded him of days gone by, very gone by in fact; it had been over a millennia since...but it didn't matter; he looked at them and spoke quietly, "The meeting room...now."
The Group gathered in the meeting room where Anthony waited for them, "So," he said wringing his hands, "What do we do about these two people who did this to her? I'm open to suggestions."
"Well, you know what they say about revenge," Justin began, wiping his hands on his pants to get the latex feel off of them. "Something about digging two graves and whatnot. I like to think it's a misunderstood statement, but I think it fits our situation here."
"Do we really have to think about it? What they did to that girl.. is unforgivable. They need to die. Preferably in a horrible, painful manner." Eryn answered coldly.
The situation with Wes still lingered in her mind, especially the hug. It was awkward, abnormal. She had only hugged one person in her life and even then she thought it was strange. But right now she had other things to deal with, so whatever feelings Wes made her experience would have to wait.
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