stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Like the sound of war drums thudding into the emptiness of night, her heart frantically beats, prisoned within her chest. That very sound that resonates through her, even until she could hear it echoing within her own ears. It was like a symbol, that she was still breathing. A triumph considering tonight. So long as she was alive there would always be a chance. No matter what despicable deeds she had commit to get to the very finish line. Hadn't she experienced enough? Sacrificed enough? Evidently not. Regardless, she would find a way through the poisoned shackles of this tangled web mess she's woven. Or it would kill her. Either way, the odds were 50/50, if the future was anything like tonight. It wasn't so bad.

How Harley could not help but let that hot breath of a scoff renounced from her lips in initial reaction to his distorted semblance of compliment, if you could even call it that. A look of sheer disgust befell her. Why, oh why couldn't she just will herself to silence, she hardly knew. Darcy may have been a pistol packing cowboy but Harley possessed her scalpel bladed tongue she so blatantly and eagerly wielded. She was offered with little more than a snort of response before he actually responded to her bitter sarcasm, that time that expanded between them seemed like it took longer than it did before he replied. Couldn't they at least do this in the car? Her teeth clenched together tightly while he spoke, even though the meaning behind those words seemed make her distinctly uncomfortable. Yet by some remarkable strength, she listens to him, truly, those vibrant eyes peering at him from behind those violet tinted sunglasses despite disagreeing with ever last word. Darcy didn't look like the kind of guy who would be smart, but sometimes when he spoke, he revealed the cunning that resided in that thick head of his.

Harley nearly spat out a laugh that catches her unawares, it would seem that sense of humour hadn't died with the vampires in that bar. That little nickname Darcy had dubbed the panther that turned her. Maybe it was just funny how it fell from his lips, or maybe it sounded like an adoring pet name, she hardly knew except it amused her, greatly. "Tetty-bear. I'm sure he hates that. I am going to have to borrow that... As for everything else. Don't mistaken me. I took advantage of a singular situation. It doesn't have to define me. You can say it does all damn day. Hell, maybe deep down I'm just fucked up as you, temporarily. I don't care. I know for a fact I can come back from this.. but you? That ship of crazy town has long since departed."Did she believe those words? In that moment, yeah, enough to make it sound like she believed it, like she knew what the hell she was dealing with. It was good enough for her, even if that seed of doubt had been firmly planted into her mind whether she liked to admit it or not. She hardly noticed the seed fall into that field as it did all the same, ready to rear its ugly head when she least expects it.

His answer of pretty boys was pretty much nonexistent. Which meant it was probably a sore subject. Interesting. How she would have loved to pry, but truly she had enough war wounds for one night. Her fingers toyed with that wooden box tucked safely underneath the folded protective wing of her arm as if to fiddle with something. For but a moment, she let her mind slip away as that reverie of silence. She seemed to get lost then, lost within the network rapid firing thoughts.

It was like she argued with herself for a moment, that she hardly noticed that charging bullet hurled with vampiric force toward her. She should have paid more attention, to him, she should have never let that gaze leave him. By the time she knew something was amiss, it was far too late, that lone rapidly racing bullet already made purchase within her stomach. Her affinity was quick to respond to that metal that buried within her flesh, but not quick enough. What the fuck was his goddamn problem? He didn't know when to stop. Like he hadn't had his fill of carnage and mayhem for the evening. Charming. That blood bloomed like a crimson flower, saturating that greyed tank, already sprayed with hooker vamp and her own blood. The unstable affinity, her own affinity to metal seemed to react to that sudden assault as if it were hungry for that metal. A welcoming as those powers envelop that cylindrical and pointed projectile. What had awaken within her body? It seemed to respond well to her anger, to the stress and pain. That power might as well have been forged from chaos in that moment.

Harley could not tame that thrashing anger, even if she wanted to. That pain provoking her figurative claws to come out. Enough was enough. That bullet burst from her then, rotating with intent as it sailed with force from its embedded resting place, she could hear its sweet intent filled hum. Barely missing his ear, she swore she could hear ting ring through the air of that bullet brushing against one of his piercings. Good, she should have taken the ear with it. Her chest was rose and fell repetitiously, drawing breath as though she craved for it, but truly it was the only thing keeping him from trying to high kick him in his smug little face.

She felt like walking, talking swiss cheese, what was one more hole? Their eyes met for a terse moment, for once she didn't feel that creeping feeling his mismatch gaze gave it. For a moment, it was a deadlock, one she refused to back down, even with her stomach throbbing painfully.

She hoped those sunglasses worked, especially after seeing Darcy drop two vampires with only a glance. She was sure she was risking everything here, yet she still did it anyways with that gaze just as cutting as ever. She had a place where he could stick those two days accompanied with complimentary directions on how to get there.

She hissed a breath, tension seemed to flood every muscle. At least until her lips quirk into an acerbic smirk, breaking that hate filled deadlock. "Aw.. and miss out on our fun conversations. I don't think so.. Don't you worry your little head of yours. There are far more creative names where that came from. You happen to be.. easy prey." How confidently she goads him, pressing the vampire whose patience was already worn gossamer thin. Two days? What the hell was he counting for? Was he the fucking Count from sesame street? Vone.... Twooo... Tree days.. Maybe she should help him fill in the blanks. How very annoying he was dropping random hints, alluding to something bad without an inkling to what. Yet it lingers like an ominous death cloud of doom over her head. "You want to hear some more of them, Count?" She doubted he would get the reference and that raven haired wildcat would certainly be the only one amused. Wasn't that always the case?

Harley didn't need a command to want to enter that sleek black town car and get the hell out of here. If she had to hear the name Haunt or.. as Darcy would put it, 'Aunt, it would be far too soon. One thing was for certain, at least that place would live up to its name and do just that in her very mind. Harley watched absentmindedly as Princess settled herself within that seat part of her wanted to coax her back here, at least she seemed hardly worse for wear. Without even a warning, that vehicle jerks into motion, the sound of rocks spraying from those tires. They clang against the metal frame of the car, undoubtedly chipping that pristine paint, he just had to show off, didn't he?

She couldn't help but be mesmerized by the flashing lights of the procession of cop cars whirring by, the sound of sirens screeching against her ears. If only they knew that the getaway car was indeed getting away, they paid them no mind, not even one seemed to pay the racing car any mind. Harley flinched when their own car narrowly collided into a massive truck riding along side of them, perhaps the same distance that bullet was from shooting through his face.

The sound of sirens seemed to linger, a howling cry into the night. They were too late, the dead were claimed, the trauma had already been done. That's the thing about cops, they 90% of the time came late to the party. By the time those blue-clad knights strapped in Kevlar armour appeared, the damage has already been done. There was nothing left to save from that wreckage. She was nearly impressed with how many of them were rushing to the aftermath. She counted at least ten from where she sat, two fire trucks and an ambulance. There was nothing left to save. What a waste.

It was unsettling how fast they were going, they were like a black bullet sailing unnaturally for its target. Syn. Couldn't he just drop her off somewhere so she could make her way home? What need was there for her? Harley served her purpose, what was done was done. Right? She rested her head on the cool window, listening to the thunderous roaring of the engine that sounded more like snarling and beast-like than its usual purr. Darcy probably went through gas like no one's business, after all, he wielded that car like a lunatic.


By the time they turned into the private parking garage of Syn, she was more than ready to get out of that car. She nearly tumbled out that vehicle, like it spat her out. Princess hardly seemed affected by her master's breakneck, reckless driving. She hardly paid Harley any more attention other than that mew from earlier as though she couldn't bare being out of sight of her vampire. How closely the little bloodied battle lynx trailed loyally by his boots, it was a wonder she didn't get trampled. For once, Harley was content to stay by the car, far away from Lorelai and her succubus superpowers, Darcy, and whoever the other douche who was smoking a cigarette. She could smell the smoke from here. Her eyes follow them, leaning against that vehicle, quiet for once. At least she smelled of blood far away from them, it seemed to waft from her like a perfume. She still clings to that mahogany wooden box, content to let her thumb brush over the bronze lock.

She leaned against the front hood of the car, relishing in the warmth that the engine emits through that metal.


Oh shit, she watches as the chain-smoking d-bag suddenly prowls toward her with intent. Putting out his cigarette as he closed the distance between them. He was tall, lanky, smelled of smoke and booze, that scent assaulting her far too sensitive nose. Her eyes trail across him in that judgmental fashion, clearly vampire, judging on his pallor alone, that and he moved with that grace even despite how casual he attempted to be. The closer her got she caught a whiff of stale blood. Good, at least he wasn't hungry. He looked like he could use a few extra pounds, even his shirt that should have been fitted seemed a little loose on him. Her eyes narrow as she braced for impact, her arms crossing tightly over her chest even as the action hurt to do so. He seemed to stand beside her leaning on that passenger door, like they were good ol' pals. Harley refused to move from her perfect warm spot even though that close proximity to a vampire in general made her twitch, that scowl firmly immovable upon her features.

He was much taller than that petite form of her, so Harley had to tip her head up to catch a glimpse at his 'friendly' face, that rim of that hat nearly blocking her view. She knew better not to fall for the nice-boy act. His words reached for her then and she could not help but scoff at him, her eyes narrowing fashioned into a sharpened glare. "Look I am not in the fucking mood for bullshit. I met my quota tonight." She listens to him talk, only mildly irritated by his presence, the distraction and normalcy about him was kind of... a nice change of pace. Truly, she should have told the slender giraffe to fuck off a cliff, but honestly, she was too damn exhausted to even pick that particular battle with him.

"Genocide? You have no idea. Dude has a serious temper. They have meetings for this kind of thing." She shook her head dismissively, her eyes trailing back to where Darcy and Lorelai were fraternizing like two gossiping squirrels. The vampire by her side hardly needed any prompting, he was really chatty. It was surprising. But then again, she supposed bartenders typically were. They wanted to get you to talk, so then you would open your wallet to drink and tip well. Small talk really didn't sound great at all right now, it required too damn much effort and she was running on fumes to begin with. Couldn't she just go home? This was stupid.

It was then that the vampire at her side says something actually useful. It caused her to turn, offering him her full attention. She leans against that hard surface upon her hip, facing the babbling brunette, "Colour me curious. Darcy isn't one for sharing." She urges him on and it would seem he needed little prompting to do so. There was a grin that grew upon her lips that she hadn't really known was there. "You don't say..." She was just about to get into it with him, to pick his brain. It would seem she had found a resource. Someone who liked to talked, that conversation was cut off near abruptly as Darcy barked at the vampire now known as Ian. Harley could not help the thorough eye roll. "I will see you around, Ian.. I'm Harley by the way." She hated saying those words, she felt like she was spitting out rocks instead of kind introductions. If she was going to play the game, she needed to make... friends. Or at least be friendly to someone with a loose enough tongue that would give her all the information she needed.

Oh Darcy... someone was clearly insecure underneath it all, he was only worried about one thing, keeping his girl's eyes strictly on him. With a name like Risqué, she would imagine that was going to be tricky.

Ian sighed, reluctantly but obediently heading back, it was obvious that he was low ranking on the totem pole. It was almost amusing to see the inner workings of this place if she wasn't the scum they trudged upon. Harley was once again left alone with her own devices, her newfound distraction gone. A sigh slips from her lips, shifting her body back to that original position so that she could lean against that hood once more. Darcy and Lorelai seemed content to continue their conversation. Ian had been told to fetch someone. it wasn't long before Lorelai was lost into that building too. That left her with sharkface again, alone. This night just kept getting better and better. She allowed that look sprawl across her features, let it seep all the way through that she was less than pleased with his company.

He closed the distance between them once more, this time Harley didn't dare take her eyes off of him. It didn't seem like he had anything in his hands this time. Picturing him as some little insecure vampire had seemed to give her a little renewed sense of delight while she peered at him safely behind her little shield. Harley allows that quirk of her lips curls into a provoking smirk, a little mask to hide what she was truly feeling. What did he want now? He was already demanding something from her, the stack of bills in her pocket. Damnit, she knew it was too damn obvious just jutting out like that. She grumbled her discontent, a pout almost forming upon her lips. It wasn't worth fighting over she reminded herself. She placed the box down behind her before she plucks that hefty stack then from her pocket, hoping it would have gone unnoticed. So much for that new leather jacket she was looking forward to. "You are a killer of joy."

She tosses that stack at him without warning and feeling, not allowing that satisfaction of her own disappointment to meet her face. Risque gets half of everything? She hoped that didn't apply to her day job. Living was expensive. Darcy then plucks a singular dollar bill and offer it to her. It was insulting. She fought for that mission, she bled for it. She lost her favourite leather jacket too. Is that even what she was.. an employee? No that didn't seem right. None of this felt right. Was it worth fighting him for a stack of money? No. But she wasn't going to go quietly. "A fucking dollar? That's what you give strippers. Not someone who saved your vampire ass. You are welcome by the way." She griped out loud, not foolish enough to expect any kind of thanks from the psychopath standing before her. She crumpled that stupid dollar before irritably shoving it into her pocket, surprisingly no holes to be found in there.

Suddenly, a botched version of her name is upon his tongue, every time he said it, it sounded abrupt and ominous. Did he have to use her name? The very way it was uttered has her eyes narrowing in response to him. How she was beginning to hate the sound her own name then. Even though she was thoroughly done, Darcy apparently was not. How could there still be more to say. Reluctantly she raises her chin defiantly, tipping her head far enough back so she could meet his gaze from beneath that ridiculous hat instead of tipping the hat further on her head. It was then that she was assailed by his next words, she visibly paled like a ghost then. No, they were not doing this.

Hungry, she knew that that meant. "That's nice. Not my problem." How that very phrase instantly put the raven hair woman on instant edge. Her inner feline all but rebelling against that very thing he suggests, the very fashion he looks at her, as though predator hunted predator. That very smile exposing those long-pointed spears, the sight of them glistening beneath the humming white artificial glow of the light overhead. Every ounce of her being screams no, she remembers bite after bite, the familiar feeling of fang piercing flesh. Her eyes widening. Her mind was a vile thing, especially now. Especially at how good at was remembering. She hardly wanted to know what those monstrous fangs felt like buried in her neck. How that very thought was dizzily worrying. What if he had venom... Don't think... Stop thinking she chides herself.

"Don't you dare look at me like that." She warned straightened, her body ready to respond in retaliation.

So, this was happening and again she is weaponless.

Like hell this was happening. Not if she could help it.

"How about you not be a prick and say you did. I am not anyone's little blood doll." She all but spat into his face with such undiluted hatred for his species. She crosses her arms defiantly, ready to defend herself. She finds herself, moving, quickly, attempting to put that car between them. Maybe, just maybe if she made herself far too difficult a target, he would find the effort not worth it. What a pretty little lie she tells herself to soothe her anxiety. She would never be someone's all you can eat fast food service, like some cheap dollar item on that menu.

Shaking her head, that growl emanating through her chest with sheer defiant discontent. In those moments her inner feline loathed being in those human confines. She wanted to burst free and fight, or climb. But it would seem Harley didn't have too many options here in this parking garage with no windows or exists. It was sure as hell better than simply offering him a vein.

Harley Westward