Willing Victim

A/N: Again... i own nothing. Not even the lyrics contained in this chapter by Switchblade Symphony for the song "Drool."

Darcy’s eyes glazed over a little as she stood in the middle of the dressing room dumbly. She could hear the shuffling feet of the crowds in the main hall of the club, the rest of her bandmates stomping down the halls, Dax calling her name and pounding on the door, but none of it seemed to hold any significance. “Darcy! Come on!” Dax pushed the door open and nearly fell inside. “Are you coming?”

“What?” She looked at him, narrowing her eyes as if she had no idea who he was. “Coming where?”

“Coming to the stage to sing?” He raised his eyebrow at her and grabbed her wrist, pulling insistently. “Come on, Darce… out of Lala Land…”

“Oh yeah,” she replied, smiling strangely. “Let’s go.” As she moved through the hallway that led to the stage, her eyes were all over the place. She was certain that she could see strange shadows moving in the corners, but nothing concrete. What was it he had said, if she sees something strange… ? The eerie calm that had surrounded her all day started to break down slowly as she reached the stage. The opening strains of “Drool” began and she made her way to the front, trying not to look terrified. The crowd below seemed to be a swirling sea of colors with no distinctive faces, save for the glow of their eyes. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking the microphone in her hands and concentrating on the lyrics to come first. “Mother says to stay right… mother says to stay right here…” she whispered. The crowd, recognizing this as Belladonna’s Kiss’s signature song, cheered and began to sway. “She’s been standing in my place, let’s go out and slap her face…” Her eyes searched the crowd for any sign of Jonathan, but she just couldn’t make anyone out. Pretty soon, she relaxed, realizing that she could do this and began to fall into her old rhythm, rolling her hips with the music, her mousy voice going to full volume. Deceiving the audience with a little girl innocence until the climax of the song. “Yes you scream and you shout, know you’ll never get out, no you never will see what’s new…” She looked up into the lights, blinding herself momentarily and triggering memories of earlier encounters with Jonathan. These memories more vivid, like visions, and more violent. Her eyes refocused and the audience was churning in a sea of blood. None of them seemed to mind, only pulsed with the endless, pounding rhythm, rubbing the blood into their skin with avarice. “She’s been sleeping in my bed, let’s go out and shoot her dead.” For a moment she was slightly disturbed, but knew it was only a hallucination… until she smelled the iron sweetness. ‘Just close your eyes,’ she thought and she did. “She’s been dancing in my dress, let’s go out and make a mess.” Her head felt so light. She wanted to be afraid of these visions. The endorphins and adrenaline were running through her veins so quickly that she could feel it crawling under her skin, but the random neurons in her brain kept firing randomly, setting off more visions. Before she had time to be afraid of one thing, something else appeared. Or a random memory fired that she hadn’t thought about in ages. But she never missed a beat of the song, even through the cloudy haze of chaos.

Suddenly something clicked in her brain and she stepped up to the microphone, raising her voice and making eye contact with a girl in the front row in a dizzying moment of clarity. “Iridescent eyes of the seahorse cries, treasure she loves, others despise. A shooting star shan’t fall very far. Dim fireflies held in glass jars.” The feeling was so odd, like she and this total stranger were connected. The girl’s eyes never left hers throughout the remainder of the song and a distinct feeling of power crashed in waves over the controlled fear.

As the set ended, Darcy was lost in her own newfound power. She’d never noticed it before. And even more amazing was laughing in the face of her fears. Several times as she stood on the stage, she was sure that she could see Erik, body broken and mangled, covered with blood, standing in Mark’s place. She would walk over to Mark/Erik and move seductively against him as he played, licking the blood from his face and laughing at the illusion.

As she came off of the stage, a bubbling mass of people surrounded her, all shoving their flyers in her face for her to sign. She obliged them, scribbling her name across photocopied likenesses of herself and the band. She crashed through them, pushing them out of her way aggressively, looking for any sign of Jonathan. Whatever it was that he had given her was starting to back off and though she still felt like she was walking on overstuffed pillows, the hallucinations had stopped. She knew that she should probably be angry with him for doing that to her, but in the end, it had been an enlightening experience. “Darcy! That was in-fucking-credible!” She turned to see Mya standing in the corner beside the bar. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks Mya.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to make them refocus. “Look… I just wanted to tell you… I’m sorry I kind of lost it with you the other day. I was just feeling so--”

“Don’t worry about it, my friend. You’re having a bad time. I was just worried.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mya. I can take care of myself. I’m not going to do anything stupid.” She squeezed the other girl’s hand and smiled. “I’ve gotta go change. Call me tomorrow.” Mya returned her smile, and Darcy started walking towards the dressing rooms.

“Hey Darce!”

Darcy turned to look back at Mya. “Yeah?”

“Erik would be proud of you.”

Darcy’s face hardened and she narrowed her eyes fiercely. “Sure.”

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The overgrown, punk kid stood against the wall, smoking a cigarette while he waited in the alley outside The Oubliette. He started to wonder if this was where the man had said to wait and checked the address written on the scrap of paper in his pocket. When he pulled out the paper, the two, crisp hundred dollar bills fell out onto the wet concrete. “Shit,” he growled, bending down to grab the money. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d just been sitting on the stoop of that old mental hospital, smoking a little weed, when this guy had come up and offered him 500 bucks to do him a favor. The guy looked real familiar, but he couldn’t really place him. He was tall and had bizarrely sculpted features. His thin frame was exaggerated moreso by the black clothes he’d worn from head to toe, making him look like some kind of spider.

“What kind of favor?” the boy asked.

“I want you to… scare somebody for me.” A slow smile spread across his features. “Two hundred now. Three after.”

“What do you mean, scare them?”

“A girl in a band, playing over at The Oubliette. You know the place?”

“Of course I know the place. Though I’m a bit surprised that you do.”

“She needs the fear of God put into her. Or the devil.”

It seems that this girl was an old girlfriend of this guy. And he wanted to send her a little message. All he had to do was get her into the alley, rough her up a little. Make her realize that she was always being watched. The boy thought that the guy was a little crazy, but hell, 500 bucks was 500 bucks.

So he stood here waiting for the girl to come out. Small girl, black hair, blue eyes, answered to Darcy. Real pretty. He’d shown him a picture of her. He asked the guy if he could do a little more than beat her up, but that seemed to piss the guy off. He’d grabbed him by the throat and pounded his head against the railing. “If you even think about touching her that way, I’ll rip your useless junkie cock right off your body and feed it to you, understand?” So he’d just give her a couple of black eyes and that would be it. Well, maybe make her bleed just a little. He liked blood.

Darcy stopped at the stage door and turned to Shatzi and Mya. “You guys… don’t be so silly. I park in the alley all the time. I have to go, I’ve got things to do at home.” The muffled voices of her friends echoed through the alley and she laughed. “I’ll be careful, I promise.” She closed the door behind her and began walking down the alley, holding her keys defensively and staying alert. Something she’d learned in all those dumb self-defense-slash- kickboxing classes that Erik had insisted she take. “If you’re going to live in The Narrows, you better know how to take care of yourself, Darce.” The heels of her boots banged on the concrete in a steady, quick rhythm. She wanted to get home as fast as she could in the hopes that Jonathan was waiting for her.

She gasped, holding her breath as she noticed that someone had fallen in behind her. She slowed her pace, so did he. She stopped, he stopped. She turned around and saw a shadow dart into a doorway. She watched for a minute and then decided it was either her imagination, or another flashback from the drug. She turned and moved on, spotting her car, another 50 yards away. As she began to walk slowly again, she heard the boots scraping against the ground, crunching the bits of broken glass that sparkled underfoot. She stopped, not turning around, and dropping her bag beside her. “Alright, who the fuck is that behind me?”

“Hi Darcy.” She turned around and a large man with an oily mohawk stood over her. “Want to play?” He smiled and swung his fist, connecting with her cheekbone hard and making her stumble backwards. He laughed and stood over her. Her eyes refocused and she saw him laughing at her in slow motion, his gravelly voice echoing in her ears. She felt the rage begin in her belly and make a knot of tension there. He started towards her again and she rolled backwards in a controlled tumble. She got to her feet quickly and braced herself for his attack. He came at her with his enormous fists, swinging wildly and she blocked them easily with the backs of her forearms. His eyes narrowed in anger and surprise. The man hadn’t said she would fight back. She used his distraction against him and jerked her knee up, connecting with his groin as hard as she could. The man shrieked in pain and stumbled backwards, but she was unable to allow him recovery. The ball of rage that was building deep inside was growing and threatened to explode at any moment. Her eyes narrowed and a fierce look of determination glazed her expression. As he bent over, protecting the family jewels as he wailed, “Fucking bitch!”, she kicked him artfully in the face, throwing him backwards against the wall.

“You gonna play with me, motherfucker?” she screamed. “Get the fuck up and fight like the big man you are!” He stood up, wiping the blood from his face and started moving towards her again.

“I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch,” he rasped.

“Get some new material.” She was on him again instantly, all the martial arts and kickboxing coming back to her as she let her primal instincts take over. Under the rain of her fists, he managed to get a hold on her, pinning her arms behind her and pulling her back and lifting her off the ground until she heard the bones of her spine crack. She groaned and kicked her feet under her, trying to connect with his knee, but with little success.

“What you gonna do now, little girl.”

Darcy said nothing but jerked her head back against his forehead as hard as she could, knocking them both to the ground, but giving her enough time to scramble away. He started to get up again, but she kicked him repeatedly in the face until he slumped over. The ball of rage had finally taken over. As he laid on the ground, defeated, she walked over to him and put the spiked heel of her boot against his throat. She stared down at the boy’s face as he looked at her this time, not with lust and hate, but with fear. “If I press a little harder… I could kill you right here.” He rasped out a plea for his life.

“Do it, Darcy… finish it.” She looked up and saw Jonathan standing beside her car. “Show him no mercy, as he would undoubtedly have shone none to you.”

“Please… please don’t kill me,” the boy gasped, trying desperately to move the heel from the base of his throat. She looked up at Jonathan and his cold eyes pierced into hers. “Please… I didn’t mean…”

“Come on, Darcy. Don’t hesitate.”

“I-- he’s just a kid--”

“A kid who was going to beat you up and rape you in this alley. He doesn’t look too innocent to me.” Jonathan glared at her in the darkness. “Make your choice.”

She pressed the heel harder into the boy’s throat, but as she saw him struggle harder to breathe, she couldn’t do it. With an anguished sob, she stepped back, letting the boy go. “Run… I will call the police if I ever see you again,” she cried. The boy stood up, looking at her, and starting to say something to Jonathan, but thinking better of it, turned and ran down the alley.

Darcy turned to Jonathan and threw her arms around his neck, burying her head in his chest. “Oh my god… I’ve never done anything like that before…”

He said nothing and made no move to embrace or comfort her. He watched the boy run down the alley and pulled away from Darcy. “Get in the car. I’ll be back in a minute.” He helped her into the car and slammed the door angrily, then stalked down the alley towards where the boy ran off.

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It didn’t take much effort to catch the boy, seizing him from behind and slashing the knife across his throat, spilling his blood quickly. The boy was dying, but still alive, as Crane hung him on the lampost at the corner, the other $300 stuffed in his front pocket. “Never bargain with a lunatic, you silly boy.” The boy still struggled on the post as Crane bowed in an exaggerated gesture of civility. “But why do you look so miffed? I kept my end of the bargain. I promised to pay in full. And I never break a promise.” He smiled, feigning a sympathetic expression to the boy and kissing his forehead. “What did I dream? I do not know. The fragments fly like chaff. Yet strange, my mind was tickled so, I cannot help but laugh.” He laughed, watching the boy choke out his last, before jumping down and turning his back to walk merrily towards the car.