Saige Gale

There's a fine line between what some of us are unfortunate to know as reality, and what the rest of us are lucky enough to know as fantasy. The two are fairly broad topics, ones that greatly repel each other because of their differences, and yet they still meet a line where they are the same.

When Saige walked off the edge of the highest cliff on the beach side, she did so with the intent to leave reality behind. Quite frankly, to die. To experience a fantastical Heaven where problems were solved, but she would even take an adventurous Hell over the world she was forced to walk with her own two weary legs.

But like I said. Not all of us are lucky enough to experience fantasy.

Saige stares out the window that looks over the ocean that she expected to land in just twenty six hours prior to the now. The white walls around her are stark and bare, a bizarrely fearful setting for someone who so desperately wants to see color other than the black and white of life and the gray of politics. She stared at the bandages wrapped in dozens that surrounded legs she didn't want. She ignored the constant beep of a machine meant to keep her alive, and hated it with everything she had. She tried to rip off the beams around her head, but steel is stronger than flesh.

The blue of an ocean hundreds of yards away seemed to beckon her, for one last dangerous swim, and Saige daringly hoped to reach it, to see something other than the barren wasteland her life had always been.

When people try to explain her illness to her, Saige just scoffs. She knows there's something wrong in her head. She knows that the thoughts of a madman don't belong in a body only fifteen years new. But she can't help it. She knows that there is help, but who can really help bring color into a black hole?

She sighs, disappointed that she was not worthy of death.

Some people gain depression through a series of terrible, terrible events. Some lose parents, best friends, siblings, some are abused, some lose a perfectly good life to one wasted of love and attention and purpose and need.

But not Saige. Illnesses can be born with a person. They can plant themselves long before the human body has a chance to fight them off. And with her, the coin just landed on the wrong side. Maybe it was because Dad was never around. Maybe it was because Mom ran away months after having her. Maybe it's because of the neglect from students and teachers alike at school.

Or maybe it's the way waves of homesickness for a nostalgia she can't have rolls over her every time she looks at beautiful things. Maybe it's because that thrill of freedom only experienced in color and hope die when she touches them.

And she tried, she really did. To hold onto some sort of life, without coming near enough to kill it. But the reach of something so big for something so small can only be held by the fiercest of warriors, and as she just proved, Saige is no warrior.

It's ten days of medicine and therapy before Saige is allowed to be discharged from yet another hospital, and the move to somewhere far, far away happened almost immediately soon after. This time, Saige managed to stay a total of nine months and seventeen days, a record on her behalf. The cliff kept her there, begging her to come closer. Now the most beautiful thing she ever almost had was gone again, and Saige had no idea how she was still alive.

Little did she know the about the change the next move would bring. And no, it's not a boy. That only happens in the scripted stories. But I will say, it is color. And perhaps purpose.

This is the story of Saige Gale, a girl caught between depression and longing. Try to remember the romance of these lyrics is merely for poetry; neither to add glamour to illness, nor to belittle it.

Last, I beg you to remember; blood was not always beautiful, it was once just red.

I Have Created A Website

That's right! Now my blog isn't the only place where you can view my work. I have created a website for everyone's better convenience and I will include the link and QR code down below. The QR and link have been tested and they are live and work. Check it out!

The Link To My Website

London's Falling

Prologue

Tonight, the city of London is alive. A thousand glittering lights dance alone in a cloudy sky, like a thousand colored gems viewed through a kaleidoscope. Yes, it is the devil’s hour, but the streets do not have a bedtime.

The night-roamers hum their tunes and wander their ways down abandoned streets in their thin army bombers and loosely tied boots, their earbuds tucked inside their beanies.

Businessmen straighten their crisp blazers, and they click-clack their dress shoes away to their beckonings,  heads down and typing a furious importance into their devices.

Drunkards are leaving the casinos; ones with broken stilettos and smudged lipstick and then ones with cut-off gloves and sunken eye-sockets.

Theater-goers dance their ways into taxis, and lovers barely manage to get behind the privacy of their own doors.

Ah yes, London is alive tonight.

You could call me an observer, as that is indeed what I am. But I am not, as often mistaken with, a wallflower. See, wallflowers are the social anxiety ridden teenagers, who would rather watch the pettiness from the sidelines. But I, I would much rather stand in the middle of the crowd and look through the minds of humans, to go through their memories. Psychology; it is the best way to read someone’s heart, and the best way to deny them their next move.

               I didn’t always see the world like this; I didn’t always see this world at all. But once I did find this world, I couldn’t get enough of it. See, I used to command the devil; I was negative, underneath and always looking up. Looking at tall, towering and powerful figures. Back then, everyone’s nose was turned up, and their ideas deemed far superior to everyone else. But now, I see above all of the other shoulders. And it’s amazing really, how small humans really are. How they’re always looking down on someone else, in a hurry to be anywhere but where they are, riddled with hate, greed, jealousy, pain, and anger. Always waving what they’ve got in less fortunate peoples’ faces, and yet always begging a higher power for more. Humans. They are certainly the most dangerous beasts created since the beginning of this world.

But then I met you. You were quite different. While everyone else buried their noses in the future, you held onto the burnt threads of the past and relished in the spotlight of the present, never too worried about tomorrow. Or so I thought. You see, while the rest of the fish fought to swim with their fins above water, you didn’t mind swimming far below them. While all the other sunflowers chased the sun, you didn’t mind dancing in the moonlight. While everyone else’s heads were shoved down, you twirled around with your smile facing the skyscrapers. You, you were indeed different. When I met you, everything changed. And even though I was not, perhaps, what you thought I would be, you never set an expectation for me. Nor I for you. Perhaps that is why my story changed so much. But henceforth, this will be your story to tell. Your choices to perceive. Your happy ending, or maybe not. So decide it.

. . .

Evie’s POV

England is such a drowsy place.  Could the clouds not clear for just a moment so I could properly see what I’m trying to accomplish? I suppose not. But I guess it would help if I didn’t dance around the crowds like the cars honking and horns beeping was my music. But hey, if a job must be done, it must be done to the best of the employee's ability, and I happen to do my dirtiest work whilst dancing through my obstacles. However, I had been at this for ages.

I sighed, taking my headphones out. I wrapped them carefully around my phone, which I then shoved into my back left pocket. Pulling my jeans up and yanking down my jacket, I checked my watch; half past noon. I was starting to get hungry, but duty called. With one more sigh, I pulled my sleeves up over my hands and to my forearms. I adjusted the beanie on my head, fluffing my short hair out a bit, and then took down the sidewalk with new-found intent, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Focusing is hard. I had a brilliant mind if I do say so myself, all of the IQ tests said so. But focusing on the other hand, is not a task for the lazy soul. See, all I have to do is analyze. My brain jots down these small details for me, so I no longer have to worry about them. I call them up later, when needed. No need to pay attention.

Humming to myself, I made my way through downtown London, kicking small pebbles along the way and peering through the small bookstores and old diners as I went. More than once I considered stopping for a bite to eat until I remembered why I was actually in London, and it wasn’t for sightseeing.

After about forty-five minutes or so, I reached a street that turned the city back into the seventeenth century; as in, abandoned cobblestone sidewalks, worn with moss and adorned with tall, oil lamps rusted with time, and swinging signs in front of foreclosed businesses. No one traveled to these parts of London’s history; they let museums do that work. And unfortunately, I was here for yet a different reason.

I sidestepped into an alley between a trashed drinking pub and what appeared to be a post office and looked up. The sky was getting dark and collecting rain clouds, threatening downpour. I checked my watch again; the little hands told me that I was about five minutes early, and a fun idea entered my head, making me smile. So I backtracked to the front of the abandoned pub.

I had started drinking years ago, and just couldn’t seem to stop. I was fascinated by the ability these liquids had to transport me to different places, the buzz and sharpness that the toxins gave to my mind. Contrary to popular belief, alcohol doesn’t actually attack the brain of the consumer. At least, not in my case. I had a particular interest and acceptance of the beauty of alcohol, one no one really understood, one that was going to get me killed but who actually cared. None of that could stop me from drinking.

Jogging slowly, I came to the front and stopped to observe the entrance of the pub. The place was boarded up and dark inside, the glass in the front windows coated with dust. I approached the aforementioned glass, deducing what I could from it. It was thin, easily penetrable, installed in the late 1600’s maybe. To prove my point to myself, I picked up a loose stone from the sidewalk, chucking it towards the panes and shielding my face from the shards of glass that hit the ground and bounced back up in random directions. The impact brought the whole panel down, enveloping me in the dust it previously wore. I spit up a coughing fit, waving my arms dramatically in front of my face. When everything had settled, I brushed the dirt and glass shards off from my clothes and hair. I examined my bare forearms, slightly scratched and bleeding but nothing serious. I turned my attention back to the now accessible pub, stepping through the manmade entrance sideways, left foot then right. I straightened my army green bomber jacket and wiped my hands on my jeans, looking around. The dying daylight illuminated broken tables and chairs, termite-ridden and falling apart. The whole place was also covered with a thin, fine layer of dust just like the window was. But the whole thing had a sort of calm to it, the breathtaking kind that comes with discovering something completely new to human eyes. And the highlight of the place was the bright wooden bar, curling around a rack of alcohol delicacies, dulled by years of a lack of TLC. Slowly, a grin crept up on my face again; the beer here must be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I made my way to the back, hopping the bar and caressing it’s top with care. I ran my hand across the length of the wood, ignoring the labels of the bottles but rather noticing the way the colors moved in the liquids, begging to be freed.

I grabbed a bottle of Samuel’s Apple Orchard after long decision, swirling the bottle around and admiring its contents. Unfortunately my watch chimed then, telling me I was about to be late. I was disappointed I couldn’t stay longer, in this poor old pub, but work was calling. I carefully stepped out of the place but paused before disappearing down the alley again. I whispered a farewell;

“I’ll be back.”

I turned on the heel of my boot, jogging down the alley, popping the cap off the bottle and taking huge swigs, relishing in the bittersweet taste of aged beer. I twirled a bit and laughed loudly as I ran, shutting my eyes and letting my feet guide me through the darkness.

I had never actually been here before, but the layout was the same as every other meeting place The Phoenix Society hosted; dark, mysterious, a maze for the unwise. So I knew the way like the back of my hand.

Ah, the Phoenix Society. When they first approached me, I was seventeen and alone, hardly getting by and not quite caring if I never found tomorrow. I was simply living in the moment until three men dressed as beggars led me down the cellar of a bar in Singapore, and my whole life changed.

The Phoenix Society is a secret agency, designed for highly qualified detectives to track and bring in creatures thought to be extinct or myths, or even ones never heard of before. What happened to them afterward, who knew. The only information disclosed about that was that there was a whole world in a second dimension that contained proper labs, homes, habitats, and research facilities for the creatures; a place for them to be happy and safe. No one knew for sure, save two people, what happened in the said dimension. The two people who knew what went on in there were two specialists, completely isolated from the world and life-bound forbidden to ever reveal what happened in that dimension. “Dangerous stuff” they called it, like Area 51 on steroids. But when offered the job and the compensation they were willing to pay, I went and signed myself right up for it, no second thought.

Over two years, I had tracked and brought in a record sixty-seven creatures, making me the most efficient agent the company had. This title landed me higher jobs with more risk, which was pretty sweet. Because I had no sense of urgency or importance, no matter how many stars the case file had next to my target -the more stars, the more difficult the case- I would analyze the information once, then throw it into the fire of my supervisor’s fireplace, Chris Towns. Chris covered up for every little mishap I had and in return, I would pay him well from the findings of my detours. I clucked my tongue a bit, thinking I might try to find a bottle of Flanders Red Ale, original, for him if he didn’t keep me long.

Anyways, right now, I’m the best agent in the field at the ripe age of nineteen.

Except I’m nowhere near qualified. I just have a high pain tolerance, an unbreakable frontier, and a concerning amount of fearlessness from death and adventure. So here I am.

As I waltzed lazily down the dark and damp hallway of the passage, I dragged one knuckle-gloved hand across the walls, still continuing to gulp down the contents of the bottle in my hand. My fingers were grasped rather tightly around the neck of the bottle, as they didn’t quite wrap all the way around, and my mind was beginning to wake up a bit, picking up more and more details that I didn’t necessarily comprehend, but rather cataloged and stored in my brain for later.

I reached the end of the hallway, which opened into a spacious, cavernous room that managed to feel homely and creepy at the same time. I let loose a low chuckle, hearing it echo throughout the chamber multiple times.

“Chris,” I drawled. “I’m really starting to get a King Arthur feel, where’s my roundtable?” I stood in the center of the room as I spoke, turning around in a circle slowly, taking in every little detail about the room, which was circular and had a diameter of approximately twenty feet. As I did so, Chris appeared from the shadowed portion of the room, a candlelit lamp hanging on the wall the only illumination to show me his face.

Chris had a crop of black hair that was always swept up off his pale forehead, parted to the side. His skin was clear and a bit like pale honey; not too much color, but it made him look like he was glowing. He had high cheekbones that weren’t very defined and long lashes that threw shadows across his face. He’s also about 6’5, towering over my 5’11. But the most amazing part about Chris to me, was the way his eyes were such a strikingly beautiful gray. They weren’t made of steel, like the many books I’ve read have described gray eyes. Instead, they were the ocean, covered with fog and haze. They were gentle when undisturbed. But when stirred, when angered, they were a storm, and mess of waves crashing against each other. But now, they had more blue tones, which rolled at me when I grinned at him. We had been working in the field together since day one, when we were both brought in at seventeen. We hated each other at first; him at me because I got to do the dirty work while he cleaned up after me with paperwork, and me at him for having such self-entitlement. Now, we were inseparable, though I annoyed him to no ends. After all, it was hard not to like Chris. He had a tough exterior and the brain of Einstein, a gentle, smooth voice like a lamb and the sparkling eyes of ancient jewels.

It only took me a year to get used to always having him around. He'd never know, but I'd follow him to end of the world, even if I had to blow it up a few times first.

“Your roundtable awaits you through a super secret door behind me, princess,” he greeted, bowing sarcastically, but a fond smile adorned his face, and I laughed at the way he used the nickname we thought would never stick.

“Lead the way charming,” I said, using my nickname for him.

Behind him, I noticed a door, although well camouflaged to blend with the earthen walls, but still there. I kicked it open, taking another swig from my beer and proceeding to stomp loudly down another hallway, into another chamber identical to the one Chris met me in. Except for this time, six men in black suits, black glasses, and black earpieces stood surrounding the walls. Directly center and in front of me was the head director, Aaron Hitch, sitting in all his glory upon a velvet chair. He was second only to Dr. Blanc, the head founder the Phoenix Society. Usually meeting with Aaron meant either being released or promoted. In my situation, however, it was to receive a case harder than the last one. And boy was this a treat.

Because what caught my eye as I stood squared up to Aaron wasn’t his majesty himself, but rather a prison bar styled cage right behind him. It was maybe ten square feet, perhaps fifteen feet tall. In the shadows of the cell I could hardly make out a figure, but nothing for sure. I did notice a sort of darkness radiating from the cage, which narrowed my eyes. Silently, I threw my arm with the beer bottle behind me which Chris silently took, reassuringly squeezing my hand before retreating, then going to guard the front of the room we first entered. I dropped some of my carelessness and faced Aaron.

“Sir,” I addressed him, bowing slightly. When he nodded back to me, I relaxed my posture, throwing my left foot slightly in front of my right and rocking back slowly, back and forth. I slung both thumbs through two different loops in my ripped jeans, letting my fingers swing freely.

                All was silent for a moment, the bodyguards not moving and Aaron assessing me as I did him. Aaron was perhaps in his mid-fifties, 6’3 with a slightly pudgy build. He had an impressive mustache and a matching classily styled gray haircut. On his right ear, a huge earring representing a burnt Phoenix hung to his shoulder. I had been told when I first met Aaron the meaning behind that earring. All leaders of the Phoenix Society had worn it before him, going back to the very first founder. When he or she died, the earring would burn to ashes, and appear in the hands of whoever it thought would best lead the society next. Each time, it would reappear looking older. Aaron was the 20th leader to bear the earring; once again, second only to Dr. Blanc. Whether or not he wore an earring or not was unbeknownst to me. All other employees wore an earring in their left ear depicting their rank. Mine was a phoenix feather, golden and sharp, dangling halfway down my neck. The only other agent with a rank as high as mine was Chris’s, who had one identical to mine but silver.

Aaron had aged considerably since I last saw him, six months ago. He had more wrinkles around his eyes, and the weight of the society on his shoulders made his fifty years look like seventy. His brown eyes still sparkled a goldmine, and his Hawaiian shirt with washed out blue jeans gave him a grandfatherly aura, which to me -someone who didn’t have anything like that anymore- was hard to look at. It was hard to remember this man was only maybe fifty-five, and not seventy-five.

I had many memories from the past two years with Aaron. He had insisted on taking me to lunch every Sunday, which I only kindly declined once. He bought me home things for my bare apartment, like the honey soap bars and woven table mats. He took me to a shooting range for my first time ever when I was seventeen and a half, which led to spending many more weekend lunches there.

Chris had his fair share of memories as well. When he first came to the Phoenix Society, he registered orphaned. I knew this wasn't true because I had stolen his file and read it. He had an abusive mother, so I often tried to avoid letting any mother figures into his life, though it wasn't my place. But it was Aaron who taught him how to properly shave. It was Aaron who took him on humane hunting trips for squirrels or rabbits. It was Aaron who taught Chris how to make more than boxed mac n’ cheese for dinner. It was Aaron who we both confided in.

Aaron Hitch was not just the second head director of The Phoenix Society and our boss. He was family, too.

Before anyone could say a word, the guard to Aaron’s right approached me, his face blank as he held his hand out, holding a scanner in his other hand. Behind me, I heard another guard shift to do the same to Chris. Aaron rolled his eyes at the security precautions at the same time I sighed, but I held my arm out for him to scan.

Adorning every agent’s left arm was a tattoo, imprinted on us in the shape of a pile of ashes, bordered in a square fashion with the words, “If they burn down our kingdom, we’ll rise in our empire.”

I tapped my foot impatiently until the guard was done, and then made a point to pull both sleeves down and glare when he pulled away. Aaron gave me a gentle smile, adding to his years.

“I know this process is tiring dear, but it will soon be over.” He waved his hand to cue a different guard before resting them both on a cane in front of him that my eyes had missed at first. I tried to catch his eyes, but Aaron seemed far more interested in the ceiling of our cavern, his eyes still smiling softly.

The guard read aloud a bit of my file’s information, which he held in one hand in front of him. In a monotonous voice, he read to me the information I’ve heard a thousand times.

“Agent Leanne Rose Verde-”

“It’s Evie,” I growled at the man who remained indifferent save for a small, exasperated sigh.

“Agent Evie,” This timed he emphasized my name before continuing. “Status, Golden Feather. Welcome to meeting number one hundred and twenty-six. Today’s topics will include… ”

I had zoned out until then and was considering asking Chris for my beer back, but at this, I listened in.

“... final promotions, last cases, and leadership opportunities. However, we will likely only get to one of those topics, stated as last cases. The meeting will now commence,” the guard muttered something underneath his breath when he finished his speel, but I didn't quite catch it. Something about annoying teenagers, I'm sure.  

Slowly, I let the information process through my head as I exhaled just as slowly, my mouth shaped as if I might try to whistle. My head was bent down a bit as I examined my boots, something I do often whilst in thought. When I looked up again, Aaron was staring right at me, his knowing smile never leaving his face.

“You have a brilliant mind, Leanne. Perhaps you came to realize so slowly because you didn’t want to believe it?” His voice was smooth and calm, and he called me by my name the way I allowed only those I cared for to; lovingly.

“Promotion… But Aaron, the only rank above mine is… yours?” Aaron’s smile never left his face, but only grew softer if that was possible.

“Indeed. Leanne, my time has ended. Just in time for yours to begin.” I went to interrupt, but Aaron closed his eyes and held up a silent hand.

“This job has taken quite the toll on my body. But I still have some time. So today we will only discuss your new, and possibly last, case. Which happens to lay in wait right behind me.” Aaron stood from his chair with difficulty, using his cane to help, and the guards moved his chair from where it sat. My mind forgot about the conversation Aaron had just engrossed me in.

Because the dark creature I had glimpsed before was now standing in front of me, and it was… normal?

By normal, I mean a man stood in front of me. He was leaning forward, his hands hanging lazily on the bars. He was wearing blue jeans, with a black button-down tucked into the waistband. His sleeves were pushed up past his forearms, which made me glad that I had pulled mine down. His face was symmetrical and handsome, tanned with slight facial hair. His hair was a deep brown, swept up off his forehead like Chris’s. His feet were adorned with tan worker’s boots, and I noticed a black burn on his right forearm.

A very typical, handsome man. Except for his eyes.

His eyes ruined the image. They were blood red, with no whites. They appeared emotionless, but deep in them I could see something like flames, and figures, dancing or maybe screaming in his pupils. When he grinned, he had fangs, coming down to his bottom lip and scarring a bit of his chin.

And then there was his aura. He had this dark, dark aura around him. Like a fog of crushed children’s dreams, like a haze of Hell.

“Chris has the file which concerns this case,” Aaron stated. “Although I'd imagine Evie already knows everything about it.” I nodded shortly, making Aaron chuckle dryly.

Suddenly, a little sound filled the room, like the hesitant tinkle of bells. Aaron’s eyes darkened a bit, but it was gone before it could be detected.

“The Phoenix calls,” he said softly, and I turned in time to watch him twist the tail of his earring three times. Fire enveloped him, and he was gone in a shower of ashes. He would appear wherever he was needed, but with this creature in front of me, I felt like I needed him more here.

The man and I made eye contact again when I faced him. I felt every hair on my neck and arms stand up, and I felt my cold, unmoving demeanor almost waver. I managed to keep it and put on my own, cool smirk.

He responded with a snarl.

. . .

Chris’s POV

Evie stood in front of me, her arms crossed in front of her now. As soon as we got a full view of this… man, her whole posture stiffened, though her demeanor remained solid. It was easy to see why; my own mind shuttered. This creature had the body of a man, and yet the eyes of a devil. Though I had seen pictures of this creature, a Master Razz -plural Raize-, nothing prepared me for the darkness that surrounded him.

I shivered shamelessly, clutching Evie’s beer bottle a little tighter after Aaron had literally defied physics. Then, all at once, Evie turned around, a pep in her step, but there was something in her eyes. While the Razz had a sort of red, icy Hell in his eyes, Evie had a white-hot fire in hers. A sort of determination. She was just passing me when I grabbed her arm.

“One,” I said, passing her the bottle, “I hate that you resort to this but I won’t hold this any longer. And two,” when she took the bottle I tightened my grip on her arm. “You have no idea what the mission is and-” She cut me off.

“Yes, I do. I made all of the deductions from the Razz’s equally careless posture and the fact that our case already sits in front of us. In the past, we've only ever captured creatures. Now we're delivering them. Simple. I’m also seventy-three percent sure that there are armored cars outside of the pub by now, which will take us as far as they safely can, a flat of apartments in Sussex I’d imagine. Until then, I’m going to find you a drink for your troubles. Excuse me, charming,” she finished and with that, she turned on her heel and was almost out of the room, taking a huge swig of that something strong and her short hair ruffling itself under her beanie in her breeze when a voice, a granite hiss, filled the chamber.

“You are different,” the Razz spoke for the first time. Pausing, but not turning around, I saw a hesitant look in Evie’s eyes.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You are perhaps, one of a dark past? You do not care what you drink but it must be strong, and you have acquired a fine taste-” he chuckled when she tensed and I stepped in front of her turned form, knowing he hit a nerve. No one knew about Evie’s past but me. Not even her file. “ -in fact, that bottle is worth maybe a hundred thousand American currency. Care to give me a taste, little girl?” He smiled a wicked smile. I felt a growl in my throat, a protectiveness in my bones. But Evie was two steps ahead of me, as always it seemed.

“A taste? A fortune?” The Razz smiled wider, but Evie began to smirk.

Then, all at once, she reared her arm back and smashed the bottle and its remaining contents, which wasn’t much, onto the earthen wall beside us. It sent glass shards everywhere, some nicking our skin but neither myself or Evie cared. I took pleasure in holding myself steady while the Razz flinched; I was used to this. His grin faded, and he took on an angered expression. Without turning around, Evie finished her journey walking out. As she disappeared, she threw a look over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it was.” Then she was gone. I was quick to follow her out.

When we both got back to the above ground, me following the careless, swaying figure that was Evie, she hopped right into the pub I had passed coming in here. Except now dust covered the stone sidewalks and so did glass, as the front of the pub didn’t appear to have any anymore. I sighed. Evie had been like this since I met her, the only difference between then and now was the shell she had built around her emotions. Not the kind of shell that made sure she didn’t have to use them, but rather the kind that allowed her to overuse a certain few and completely ignore any others.

I had joined the Phoenix Society when I was seventeen. They had recruited me from the streets, literally. It had been a brutal day in my mother’s apartment in Manhattan, and I was almost done. With trying, with living. I had bruises and scars from when I was four. I was almost done. Until three men in tourist clothing convinced me to show them around the city. Next thing I knew, my drink was spiked and I woke up in a typical movie situation; hands bound, dark room, cold metal chair. I had only sighed then; I could care less if I died that day. Instead, I observed the darkness, cataloging the different sounds and different shades of dark I noticed in a mental notebook.

After watching me detect for a few moments, a man who I now knew as Aaron came in and the lights turned on too. They were bright and luminescent, but I forced myself not to blink excessively. It was then that Aaron recruited me, left, and let some scrawny nerd tattoo a pile of ashes on my left forearm. I was completely submissive.

Evie, however, was not quite so. A few months after I got my first rank, a copper Phoenix Tail, I was told my partner had been picked up and they were bringing her in for a brief interview. My first introduction to Evie was not a pleasant one.

One of Aaron’s many henchmen had led me to a police station styled interrogation room, the kind you see in TV shows. Where there was two-way glass and I could her but she couldn’t see me. The only difference was, she knew I, or someone, was there.

That day was the only day I saw her with long hair, for the next she had chopped the length off to the base of her neck. It was a dark brown, but you could see blonde roots showing. She also fixed that the next day; the dye had stained her hands. On the table next to her was what I now call her signature beanie, a simple grey knit one. She was also wearing what I now call her signature jacket, an army green bomber. Her jeans were skinny and well worn, black and ripped but appearing to have been washed many times.

Then there were her eyes, set just above her small nose and thin lips, pressed into a line. They were a good size for her face, not too big, not too small. And they were a brilliant green. In the moments it took me to walk in and sit down across from her, next to Aaron, I had seen a million emotions; but mostly a sadness, an anger, and a depression. It was the only time I saw them. She was a bomb, and any little spark could light her fuse. Most people ran from those kinds of things, called them deadly. I admired it.

The moment I saw her, I knew I would follow her anywhere. Be it to death by drinking or victory with a bottle in our hands. I would follow her to the end of the world. Even though the first interaction we had was her fist against my jaw.

We still argue about who provoked who first all the time, but I forgave her after Aaron hired her, and I was told she would be my partner. After all, she’d been through a lot. And maybe the questions Aaron made me ask were too personal.

It went down a bit like this.

I had sat down next to Aaron, a sheet of paper in my hands to read questions from. Evie had sized me up instantly, which made me smirk as our height distance was a considerable amount. I had sized her up too, but mostly I had discovered an attraction to her.

It was very black and white. I would ask her personal questions and she would deny them. I would ask her textbook questions and she'd answer with 100% accuracy. It was when Aaron announced us partners and read us our jobs where things began to spiral.

“Ok. Evie, you will be in charge of the field work and will get to keep a field name. Chris, you'll run the paperwork and database research, aiding Evie in the process. You will be her supervisor, therefore always one rank beneath her. Questions?” I had frowned, Evie had smirked.

“Yeah,” I said, earning my first eye roll from Evie. “She's tiny, she's got a flaring temper -don't look at me like that, I've already deduced it- and the rankings are not fair.” Evie responded immediately, sitting up in her chair, her eyes lit up with a fire.

“You think just because your a man means you get to do everything, or that because I'm not a man I can't get the job done? That you get the privileges?” She stood, leaning over the table to spit in my face. “Well guess what? Fu-” I cut her off, standing up and throwing my arms in the air.

“And she's a feminist!” I shouted, very annoyed. “Where'd you get it? Your mother or you father?” I didn't see her arm rear back but I felt her fist against my jaw and I tasted the blood in my mouth.

“Don't you ever use those terms around me. Ever.” That was when I learned that Evie didn't have parents. I couldn't contain myself.

“So that's fair then?! I have to abide to the orphan? Well hey, at least I'm not drinking my life away!” I was yelling now, and she flinched. I laughed. “Yeah, don't worry, I saw the flask in your jacket, and that bottle in your pocket too.” Evie’s eyes lit up in anger, and then she hit me where it really hurt.

“At least I'm living!” she roared. “At least I can actually fight back if I'm being attacked or kidnapped, because apparently you're weak and can't!” That stung like she had slapped me. “Yeah, I heard how they recruited you, the weak and submissive Chris Towns.” She spit venom into my name.

All at once, I became far more terrifying. I stopped yelling, and the anger left me. Instead, it was replaced with rage. Because she had no idea.

Slowly, I stepped closer to her. “I am not weak. I was easy because I didn't care.” I continued approaching her until I was right up on her, towering over her, my face inches from hers and looking down. I saw a tiny bit of fear in her eyes. “I was submitting myself to death,” I whispered. Her eyes grew a fraction. “I thought I was going to be murdered when I was actually being recruited. And I was. Perfectly. Fine. With. It.” I announced each word slowly, and let it sink in. As I did, I was nearly distracted by the smell of warm cinnamon which was coming off of her, nearly got lost in her very pretty green eyes. And yet, I dared my self control to lean even closer to her face.

“So screw you, princess.” Then I had left, not acknowledging that Aaron was in the corner of the room still.

And that was my first time meeting Evie.

I learned throughout our first few months nearly everything there was to know about her, including her full name, Leanne Rose Verde. And there were things no one else knew, not even the system. But I did. There are secrets she’s told me that I will take with me to the grave.

But for the time being, the scars on her wrist weren’t from the times she’d been careless cooking. Her family wasn’t away on a vacation. When she woke startled from her bed in a cold sweat, it wasn’t because of a nightmare so much as it was PTSD. The dark circles under her eyes weren’t always from a lack of sleep. She hadn’t been in the subway watching wall artists all night when I knew there was an illegal boxing ring around town. And she didn’t have milk in the little silver bottle she brought with her to work every day.

It was no secret by the end of our first month that Evie drank, the company just made sure she always had some on hand.

“Sharpens my mind,” she’d mumbled as I half carried and half dragged her to a company SUV after one particularly emotion tangling case, one that made me want to hold Evie longer than I did. It was a long night and a longer story.

She also hated being called Leanne; the only person who got away with it was Aaron. But she never told anyone why she preferred Evie. And that’s just her.

I evaluated all of this information in my head while I watched her admire the pub once more, as I’m sure she did when she broke into it in the first place. After a few minutes, I sighed dramatically to let her know we had to get going, and she appeared shortly thereafter brandishing two bottles of non-brand liquid, shoving one into my arms.

Yeah, I drank from time to time. But only if Evie gave it to me.

Skeptically, I looked at the bottles.

“What is this, arsenic? That’s your next high?” Evie rolled her eyes, smacking my arm and proceeding to pop the, surprisingly not cemented shut, cap off her mysterious drink. Taking a huge swig, she wiped her mouth with a satisfied huff before answering me.

“This, charming, is one of the finest,” she held her bottle up to the light, letting the brown glass reflect on her skin, across her emerald orbs. “Flanders Red Ale, Original, worth approximately one fifty grand by today's standards.” She grabbed the bottle from my hand, popped the cap off herself, and handed it back.

“Drink.”

It wasn’t as volatile as some of the others she had graced me with, and I found myself not having to try to hide any disgust. I even drank some more before responding.

“Definitely one of your finer catches, princess.” She grinned at me satisfied, before turning back to the street in time to watch three armored SUVs roll up to the sidewalk, just as she had predicted. But her grin disappeared when the Razz appeared from the tunnel behind us, her eyes narrowed again and her spine straightened a bit more. It smiled at her before being shoved into the third SUV, and she turned right around to face the first car.

She swung the bottle by her hip as she hopped into it, scooting over for me to slide in. When I did, she finally addressed the case we were just given while reaching over me to buckle us both into one seat.

“Looks like we got ourselves a treat. A Razz, extremely rare and one of five Raize left. Also happens to be the Master one. The cause of many forest fires lately, often causes chaos in bars, schools, and other public places with the intent to cause death. Shocker.” I gaped at her a bit.

“How’d you…?” Evie waved me off like it was obvious. I guessed by now it should have been.

“Please. I read the file before coming here. It wasn’t that hard to find which building you were staying in and pick your apartment’s lock.” I rolled my eyes away from her; of course, privacy wasn’t a thing.

“And I also know what we are to do with it,” she continued, oblivious to my exasperation. She downed another portion of her beer.

“Oh?” I questioned without much curiosity. “Because the file didn’t say that.” She shrugged, reaching over to tighten the buckle around us as we began to move.

“It didn’t,” she admitted. “But Aaron told me all I needed to know.” When she didn’t explain, I lifted a brow to prompt her to continue. With another swig, the SUV took off.

“We’re returning it, no?” I asked; she swallowed with somewhat difficulty, as the vehicle was now accelerating. When she was done, she leaned her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.

“Of course not.” Just before she slipped away, she decided to enlighten me.

“We’re going to release it.”

That was the first time I downed a bottle of beer that Evie had given me. For all my luck, I hoped it was spiked.

. . .

Evie’s POV

The next few weeks went by in a blur, as it was mostly paperwork. I continued to roam around London, even going as far as Durham for some research missions. I was simply scoping out a bit of England, finding the best spots to hide a demon from Hell and then release it. Of course, we couldn’t place it in the dimension with the others. It would murder them. No, we were sending this Master Razz back to Hell.

The others are all of the other creatures the Phoenix Society has rescued. Meaning kept safe from PRISM.

PRISM, the Private Research Institute of Scientific Modification. Or rather, the company that kidnaps rare creatures and runs tests and labs on them. Kills them in the end, uses their resources for their greed. They're led by Alexander Fly, a tiny man with silver hair and a beard to match in a pinstriped suit with a rainbow tie. No one’s seen him in decades, and no one’s found PRISM’s lab, or the creatures they’ve captured. For now, we just have to find the rest of the creatures before they can, and keep them safe. It seems simple, really.

PRISM is killing these poor creatures. The Phoenix Society’s job is to stop that.

My job is to stop that.

As soon as I had told Chris what needed to be done, he downed the beer I gave him. For the first time. From then on, he had started drinking at least half of every drink I gave him. It was concerning; I knew he could take it but at least one of us needed to be sober for this, and it wasn’t going to be me.

He merely frowned when I cut him off and continued on with his paperwork and taking reluctant care of the Razz, which was currently securely locked up in the complimentary storage unit of Chris's temporary apartment. It was driving him mad.

Which is exactly why I stood outside of his apartment, a twelve-pack of crappy Buds Light tucked underneath my arm.  

When Chris answered the door, he didn’t look surprised, he just ushered me in quickly. After deadbolting the lock, he turned around and rushed past me, speaking quickly and disappearing into his study. When he came back, he had the familiar Razz file in his hands and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. I simply worked around him lazily in order to get to the kitchen. There I poured two glasses of Buds with ice, one which Chris helped himself to before realizing its quality and setting it back down bitterly. He continued his speel.

“Tonight. We go tonight, at midnight. They must have the cars ready,” he took a breath, “they must have everything ready and yet they didn’t tell us what we were supposed to do. What are we supposed to do?” He finally shut up when I walked over to him and plucked the glasses from his face and shut the file in his hands.

“Chris. Seriously. Don’t let this crap go to waste,” I gestured to the Buds Light. “And for once in your life, relax and have faith in the Phoenix Society. If we go at midnight, we go. That means we have four hours to sleep.” I glanced at the clock on Chris’s wall.

“Three if we intend to finish this pack, which I do.”

Chris sighed, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine.” To which he downed another beer. He grimaced, his eyes shut, before swallowing and opening his eyes again.

“Pour me another.” He slid his glass across the small island, which I caught easily as it flew off the edge. I popped the lid of a third beer.

“My pleasure.”

. . .

Chris’s POV

We actually only got two hours of sleep. And we actually passed out on the floor.

Pathetic. Wasted after six cans and a dose of exhaustion. I’m ninety percent sure that Evie managed to somehow spike them, or at least I hoped she did.

When I finally came to, Evie was zipping up her boots and adjusting her beanie over her short, dyed bob. I groaned, sitting up from where I lay on the floor by the island, shutting my eyes and holding my head. From somewhere near the front door, Evie let loose a low laugh.

“I’m officially cutting you off charming,” she said, coming over to crouch in front of me as I opened my eyes.

“That’s what you said last time princess,” I sighed, slouching and just staring at her face.

It was then when she smiled slightly, almost gently at me, when I realized something vital. It was when time slowed down around us and I noticed that her breath was only inches from mine. It was when I saw a million different shades of green in her eyes. It was when I noticed that her ruffled morning appearance was still sharp and stunning, beautiful in a way a knife is shiny and makes you want to touch it, to turn it over slowly and carefully in your hands.

I was in love with Evie.

But not with Leanne Rose Verde, a girl I had desperately tried to know many times on separate occasions. Not with Leanne, but with her cover. In that moment, I was so close to Leanne. But it was Evie, as lovely as she is.

It was toxic. It was dangerous.

I cleared my throat, returning her smile and standing up, pulling her with me. When we were standing, I broke eye contact and turned away, trying to tell myself the disappointed look on her face was a coincidence. I tried to clear my mind, picking up my phone from where it lay on the stand by the front door, halfway charged. On it was a missed call from Aaron and a voicemail. Without turning, I grabbed my coat from its hook and opened the door, not bothering to change out of my clothes from earlier.

“Come on princess,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady and unsuspecting from her impressive detective skills. “Aaron’s calling.”

Evie caught on to something because she hesitated before grabbing my hand. Something she only did when she was nervous. I swallowed, keeping my eyes forward. But I held her hand anyways, returning the pressure with another reassuring smile.

When we arrived at the address Aaron sent us, Evie was back to normal. Well, normal for her. The address was only two blocks from the pub she had gotten the Flander’s from, -despite having traveled all over London to find a more secure place- so she had gone on a detour to get another. She offered me one, but I declined it. She shrugged, putting it in the phone pocket of her bomber.

She had the Flanders in her right hand, swinging it, and the weight of the other bottle pulled her jacket down a bit. Her posture was careless, as usual, and she appeared to not notice that this was one of the most difficult cases in the history of difficult cases. But deep down, I saw her nerves on end and her mind running a hundred miles an hour.

Earlier, Aaron had informed us of our task. It seemed easy, really. Summon the Devil. Make him take his Master Razz demon thing back to Hell. Salt and burn the site we summoned him from when the deed was done.

But that’s not quite what happened.

Instead, when we got there, Razz was waiting for us, though we were positive he had trailed behind us between four bodyguards. And he had already drawn the pentagram. Evie approached him slowly, finishing off the last of her beer. She tossed it to the side, almost strategically, to her back and right and didn’t flinch at the sound of it shattering to pieces. I stood tall beside her, arms crossed. I had a hard glare set on my face; at that moment I was as invincible as Evie was all the time.

We had literally about three seconds to figure out what happened to the guards; as in, the entrance to the cavern we were in collapsed into an Earthen mess and the whole room was enveloped in dust and dirt for a moment. I coughed, trying to keep my eyes open. Luckily for me, the Razz didn’t move or try anything while the room fell apart around us.

“Well,” I said, before proceeding to let a string of highly unintelligible but arguably impressive curse words from my mouth. Evie only smirked, apparently unfazed by the damage that happened around us.

“Alright,” she spoke, her voice was deep and lazy but a trained eye could see that she was indeed on edge. “Let’s get you back to Hell.” The Razz snarled, but I sneered back, and it retreated to the corner of the cavern we were in, even though it could’ve attacked us. We were in a cave similar to the one we had first met the Razz in, except now we were the only three in it and the only way out was currently blocked in.

After ten tedious and monotonous minutes of Evie reciting in Latin, which I knew next to none of saving the standard Carpe Diem, we finally began to see some action. Smoke began to curl up from the edges of the pentagram, and sparks were going crazy. In a flash of blinding light, beams shot everywhere and threw Evie and me off our feet, slamming us against the already shaky walls of the cavern. I quickly shot up, though disoriented and grimacing, to see Evie never actually hit the wall. Instead, she rolled into a crouch, but her beanie had been thrown off and her appearance was wild, she had cuts all along her arms with previous scars and on her face from the glass that matched her said scars delicately. Evie was beautiful. Leanne was, as usual, nowhere to be seen.

A quick glance over showed me that I had cuts all over my arms too, and my face burned like it had been carved with acid. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dim, almost non existent light. I really wished they hadn’t.

Because standing in the center of the pentagram, in the black suit and rainbow tie that was uniform for PRISM, stood Alexander Fly. Next to him, bound and looking ninety years old, was Aaron Hitch.

. . .

Evie’s POV

The blast from the summoning sent me rolling, though not completely off my feet as it had evidently done to Chris. Definitely not your typical demon summoning.

When my eyes had adjusted, I immediately wished they hadn’t. They way Chris’s posture sank told me he felt the same way.

There in the pentagram stood Alexander Fly. Next to him, in terrible condition, was Aaron.

“Let him go,” I said instantly. My mind was running a million miles an hour. PRISM had Aaron. PRISM had Aaron. I was starting to panic a bit, and desperately wished I had a bottle of Vodka in my hand. Beside me, Chris tensed up and moved to stand just to my front and left.

“Ah, but I don’t think you want me to. You see,” Fly’s voice wasn’t anything deep or stereotypically villainous, he proved that much when his high pitched tones filled the nearly claustrophobic cavern. “Mr. Hitch here has been working undercover for me for fifteen years now. Isn’t that right, dear sir?” With that, Fly yanked on the chain around Aaron’s neck, causing him to gag and fall to his knees. I advanced, getting a total of three steps closer to them before Chris caught me with his arm and held me back. I looked up to snap at him, but stopped.

There was something in his eyes. A storm, a wild one. One I’d never seen in him before. A pain. A sorrow. His eyes were made of dusty glass. His pupils were staining them red.

I looked back to Fly, feeling rage build up in my chest.

“Bull,” I spat at him. “Why would we ever believe you?” A smirk crept up the tiny man’s face.

“Because,” he drawled, pulling Aaron’s arm closer to him. “Of this.”

He yanked Aaron’s arm up harshly, and lo and behold, the mark of a 3D triangle, a prism, was burnt onto the fragile skin in multiple shades of betrayal.
A gasp gave me away, and I lost my composure. I stumbled backwards a few steps with my eyes stinging at the same time that Chris hit the ground, hard, on his knees.

“No,” I whispered. I coughed, salty tears blurring my vision. When I spoke next, it was louder. Stronger. “He wouldn’t do that to us.”

Fly sighed, as if anticipating this response. As if the words I had just spoke were an insignificant line written in a book and he had seen in coming.

“Of course he wouldn’t, silly girl. All I had to do was threaten to kill the pair of you, and he bowed down to my will.” Aaron’s head was down, but he nodded with defeat. Fly kept rubbing salt in the wound. “Suddenly, PRISM Labs went off the radar and so did we, quite frankly. Why? Because the agents in your little society brought every creature we needed straight to their director. They brought them straight to me, in a different dimension. You,” he said, eyeing me with an evil glint. “Brought them straight to me.”

I was speechless at this point. This was surreal to me. And based on the lack of response from Chris, the whole situation was just as incomprehensible to him too.

“Now all I have to do,” Fly continued, stretching his fingers. “Is to kill you.”

. . .

I’d like to say there was an epic battle. One with back to back fighting, and fire and injury and victory. But there wasn’t. What happened next, happened far too quickly.

With a tiny flick of his wrist, one I almost didn't catch, the Razz appeared from behind Fly,, looming over us. Everything in my body screamed at me to move, to run, to fight, to do anything but what I did. Instead, I looked straight up at the handsome creature, and matched its red eyes with my own. And I laughed. I laughed a dry, humourless, damn near defeated laugh.

Not my smartest choice. Probably my proudest moment, but not my smartest choice. All I remember now was the room going deaf to my ears, and feeling my head bounce once, twice, three times for good measure against the floor. Chris’s did the same. His eyes were the last thing I saw before the room went dark around me. In them, I could see the delicate dust of diamonds, spilling out of his orbs.

The glass was broken.

. . .

Chris’s POV

Evie had gotten us into some pretty difficult situations before, and I had gotten us out of them. But this one had to have taken the freaking cake. Locked in a stinky basement in a whole other dimension. Impressive.

Let’s put it this way. Neither of us really expected to open our eyes again. So that was step one of a spontaneous plan.

The pain I felt and the smoke I smelt when my eyes opened was, sadly, familiar. I shut my eyes for a split second, or what only felt like it, and remembered the smoky filled rooms and alcoholic parties my mom would throw. How she would bash me over the top of the head with a beer bottle, or a rum glass. If I was lucky, it’d be empty. Countless nights were spent locked behind unstable wooden doors, trying to wash the nasty drinks, smoke, and blood from my body. I had scars on my back that could’ve sent her away forever, but then she would come down from her high occasionally and hug my shoulders, hand me a fifty and tell me she would make dinner that night. It made me feel guilty and ungrateful, selfish and spoiled. I had scars on my wrist that could tell you how I tried to work that one out.

I came to with a start, shooting up from the position I was laying down in. When the blood came rushing to my head, I had to bite back a cry and instead tried to look around. Suddenly, I felt a small grip on my arm. I turned violently, my breathing fast and eyesight blurry, ready to throw hands at whoever approached me.

“No,” I whispered, hardly audible. But the girl next to me heard it. Evie took a hold of my hand carefully, gently, and I lay my forehead on her shoulder. I didn’t realize that my body was shaking so hard because I was sobbing.

For the first time in my life since I was probably seven, I was truly terrified. I was scared, and vulnerable, and I wanted to be five again, or six. I wanted to be whatever age I was before my mother started drinking, when she would drive me to school and pack my lunches and take me to play at McDonald’s every Thursday when she got off early from work. A part of me wished I was still in that ugly, nasty smelling apartment and that it was a day when my mom wasn’t completely wasted and that she had just asked me if I wanted to watch Cake Boss, something we did a lot of when I was younger.

And then another part of me was hating myself, for being so weak, for being so pathetic, for letting myself relapse into the past right when I needed to be in the present the most. For falling apart on Evie’s arm for the third time, and not behind the privacy of single dorms. I was supposed to be strong. I was supposed to have a plan. I was supposed to be smiling at Evie right now, laughing as she stressed about a simple mistake and saying, “Relax princess, I’ve had the answer to this one for weeks.”

Instead, I passed out.

. . .

Evie’s POV

Waking up hurt like… well, like Hell. And to be completely honest, I was not prepared to wake up at all, much less deal with Chris having a panic attack, having another episode. He thinks he just relapses sometimes, which is true, but it’s really PTSD. And now my supervisor was passed out on my shoulder, his body exhausted from sobbing and remembering the past.

Silently, I observed our surroundings, struggling to move Chris’s weight off of me and onto the floor. We were in a very dirty, very typical bad guy cell, with iron bars and gray walls. We also appeared to be in a basement. The only windows were at the very top of the cells, about ten feet off the ground, and showed the tops of dirt and grass framed by a dark night sky. I sighed. There was no way to break the glass, it was too tall for me and Chris was currently AWOL. Even if I could manage to reach the glass and break it, there was a fifty fifty shot that I wouldn’t fit. And then there was a fifty fifty shot of guards prowling around outside. No, PRISM had held too many creatures far more dangerous than us in cells like this before. They weren’t going to lower their guard around the two people who brought the said creatures in to them, not for a second.

Which means that I was all out of options. We were just going to have to wait until someone came to get us. Out of the plan I did have, that aspect was not one of them. But not fighting was part of the plan… sort of.

Of course I didn’t fight. If I had fought, Fly’s Razz would’ve not so accidentally killed me or Chris or both of us right there on the spot. Though he had intentions to do that later anyways. Before he did though, I needed to see this second dimension. I needed to see exactly what happened here.

I also needed to punch the living daylights out of Aaron until Chris stopped me, if he even would stop me this time.

. . .

Chris’s POV

I have no idea how long it was until I came to again. All I know was when I woke up, nothing was dirty and the smell of smoke had disappeared. I couldn’t grasp much of what was going on, but I made my own deductions from what I could. One, I wasn’t walking, though I was moving. A bunch of white panels above my head were passing my vision as I went, and my progression was smooth and steady, which meant that I was being wheeled somewhere. I gripped around with my hands, grabbing fist fulls of fabric before hitting something solid, like a bar. Which meant I was probably on a stretcher of some kind.

However, my hands were untied. When I moved my arms, nothing was resisting their movement. Same thing with my legs. I could use this to my advantage.

As a bunch of what I assumed to be PRISM guards wheeled me to an unknown location, I feigned unconsciousness and kept my eyes closed. Eventually we stopped, and I heard three sets of footsteps echoing around me, coming to the front of where I lay; that meant wherever they had taken me was deserted and probably big, like a modern day cave. I hoped there were tunnels leading out of it, like a modern day cave system.

That was part of the under current to my thoughts. The rest of me was well aware that some kind of gun had just been cocked and a bunch of gruff voices were deciding whether or not to shoot me then and there. Comforting. As for the gun, whether it was a normal one -the kind regular humans had- or if it was some high tech one because normal ones are too high maintenance, I couldn’t tell. But I was almost 100% sure it was aimed at me.

I dared to crack my eyes open a slit, and was forever thankful that all three of them had their backs to me, one on either side of my stretcher but not the front. Bad guy A had the gun, but he had put it back into its halter; he was to my left. Bad guy B, to my right, did not have a weapon which I could see. There was no telling if bad guy C, in the back, had a gun or not. His waistline was just hidden by the top of my stretcher, and straining my neck anymore would’ve made more sound. I would just have to take my chances.

First, I slowly and quietly removed the blanket from my body, careful not to make any risky movements that would draw their attention around. As far as they were concerned, I was currently unconscious and unable to do them any harm.

As soon as I was sure I could move around freely and decently, having moved each of my limbs individually, I shifted slightly to turn on my side. I froze as one of the guards went to turn around, but he just sneezed rather loudly instead. I took my shot.

I grabbed the gun from its halter off guard A, firing at his leg. I leapt out of the stretcher as I did, turning around to be met with guard C who, thankfully, didn’t have a gun. I let him charge at me with all his burly strength, and stepped out of the way at the last second. The momentum flung him past me, and as he went I reached back and slammed the butt of the gun into the back of his head, effectively knocking him out.

“Whoo!” I cheered a bit, laughing, until I remembered the third guard. I whipped around quickly. Guard B was already gone. I cursed under my breath; probably off to raise some alarm.

Ten minutes later, I had dragged the two bodies into a side tunnel that I had barely noticed and was changed into guard B’s uniform. I couldn’t take guard A’s; I’d had to shoot him again to knock him out for good and there was blood all over his uniform.

I walked towards a huge opening from the cave. The whole thing was white and man-made, with many different tunnels leading out of it, but there was a huge, gaping exit on the side, with white light streaming in. It was impossible to tell what was on the other side of the light wall, but I couldn’t approach carefully and risk suspicion. So I whipped my hair out of my face from where it stuck on my cheeks and haltered the gun in my hand, walking straight through the middle of the huge hangar bay looking exit. I was not prepared for the sight on the other side.

When Fly had threatened to take our lives, he had enlightened us on PRISM’s evil doings, and had mentioned that they had taken over The Phoenix Society’s safe haven. When I imagined PRISM Labs, I imagined concrete floors and bland colors, a huge facility of test labs and rooms with dentist tools on steroids and hidden caverns filled with odd animal bones. But what I got was nothing like that.

Instead, outside was a huge, sloping hill that led downwards, all green and rolling and lush and soft. It stretched all around the outside of the modern cave system I was just in. Down where the hill plateaued, it was still lush green carpet, but there was a whole fifteenth century town stationed there. As far as the eye could see, there were small cottage houses and gardens attached to them, small lakes dotted between them and parks more oftenly spotted. There were people milling around too, as far as the town reached. There were markets and schools and businesses; there was civilization. And the colors; oh man, they were no ordinary comic strips. They were bright and vibrant, almost surreal, and they made every fairytale look black and white. They continued as far into the distance as the horizon miles away, but that’s where everything ended. There, a huge wall of gray fog lined the entire horizon, wrapping all the way around the domed atmosphere, leaving nothing to see behind it. Like this world was just a plane, two dimensional with nothing more and nothing less.

I started down the hill, turning around slowly to take in the air, which was fresh and reminded me of Spring. The cave system I came out of was actually a huge white dome, smooth and unbothered. The tunnels branching off must be underground. Guard B must be racing off somewhere to alert Alexander Fly right now, pounding his nasty feet along somewhere beneath me. I shivered involuntarily and focused back on the task at hand; the reality of my situation was that I was completely lost, although I had an idea of where I needed to be. I was also a fugitive in this land, on the run and dressed as an unlikely soldier. Things didn’t look good for me if I was going to continue to gape around like a tourist. I’ll have to fake it until I make it; pretend like I’d seen this place many times before and was unimpressed.

When I got to the base of the hill, the hum of activity intensified, and as soon as I passed the first house of this fairytale land, everything changed. And I mean, changed. Like the soft cottages and vivid colors and happy parks were a facade, a dream for the hopeless. All of a sudden, all of the houses turned into decaying, rusting and rotting wood and iron apartments, and the sweet grasses turned into dirty and chalk covered sidewalks. Broad streets of black asphalt were now cutting through neighborhoods, and were lined with old rusty cars, falling apart at the hinges. Modern tanks were patrolling the area, shooting pellets at smokers and water at children. And the smell, it was putrid and acidic. It was terrible. I gagged, turning around to go back into dreamland and see if I couldn’t walk around this place with better air quality at the least. But behind me, a barbed wire fence had formed out of nowhere. I frowned. This was not right.

Suddenly, someone grabbed the fabric of my borrowed uniform harshly, yanking me through a side alley of an apartment and the barbed fence, shuffling along quickly. I panicked; what if a guard recognized me as not who my uniform said I was, and was trying to turn me in? What if a citizen saw through my fake disguise and wanted to turn me in for some kind of reward? I struggled against the hands around me too late; the weakness of the grip caught me off kilter and before I could react appropriately, I had been thrown into an apartment flat. Whipping around, I squared myself up for a fight with my… captor?

A little old lady wheezed at me, bending over with humor.  She had white curls and yellow teeth, but warm eyes and good spirit. I lowered my arms.

“Madam? I-” The woman came over and smacked me on my back, hard.

“Oh sonny, you wouldn’t last a minute in these streets, not when there’s real guards everywhere! And the name’s Marge.” Her voice was thin and raspy, and she moved around me to her kitchen, shuffling her feet around in slippers. The whole place was tiny but homely, and probably more decorated than anything else around here. The walls were a decaying yellow and covered in paintings, and loveseats adorned the three walls beside the door. The fourth wall went down the length of the flat, stretching all the way down past the kitchen and to what I assumed was a bedroom. Behind me was the only door on that side, which I desperately hoped was a restroom; my bladder was being tested past its limits.

“Sit down child!” Marge called. I sat.

“Mam- I mean Marge- what do you mean?” When Marge came back in, she shoved a cracked cup of tea into my hands.

“I mean you look like a tourist and have got on trousers two sizes too small,” she said, hunching over to pour herself some tea before relaxing into the loveseat next to mine. I glanced down to see she was right, and sighed for so being careless.

“And,” she said, leaning back and giving me a very thoughtful, chocolate colored eye. “That’s a nice earring. I’m sure Mr. I’m A Fly would love to ask where you got it.” My eyes widened; I completely forgot about my earring. I hurried to take it out, keeping it in my hand for the time being. Marge laughed at me again, her aged eyes twinkling. She stood.

“Hold on sonny, I can fix that for you.” She made her way down the half hallway, disappearing into the third room before returning with a bulky package wrapped in brown paper. She set it down on the coffee table, carefully removing the paper and presenting me with what looked like a brand new PRISM guard uniform. I raised an eyebrow at her, questioningly. What did an old lady like her need a new uniform for?

“Did you battle someone for this?” I asked gently, allowing myself to laugh with her.

“No no sonny, I picked it up from one of the trucks when it fell. Quite a steal, quite the money,” she winked at me. “Go on child, get changed. I think it might fit.”

Quite miraculously, the room behind the door was indeed a bathroom, which I was thankful for. Even more so wondrously, the uniform fit like a charm, besides the slightly too long pant legs. But Marge had the boots for that too. Walking out, I placed my earring carefully into the breast pocket of the uniform. Marge smiled at me when I came out, a grandmotherly smile.

“You almost look like my dear Richard, dressed up in a suit like that,” she smiled fondly, holding a comb and some cosmetics in her hand. She gestured for me to sit in front of her, which I did. She started to comb through my hair, styling it as she went.

“If you don’t mind me asking, who’s Richard?” Marge sighed dreamily before continuing with my hair.

“Close your eyes child, and I’ll tell you a story.” I did as she told me to, feeling the way she caressed my hair as if it were my mother’s hands there instead.

“A good twenty years or so ago, I was not a human. I was a hybrid, a lioness with wings, living in a different world other than yours, living in serenity and being taken care of by kind caretakers. I was proud and golden, and beside me, was a great creature. A lion with a mane of fire and the wings of an angel, strong and beautiful. He was my mate.” She paused, letting the information sink into my frowned face. When the expression disappeared, she continued, this time brushing a powder across my cheekbones and jawline.

“And then one day, an army of men in black suits with ridiculous rainbow ties invaded our homes, “our” meaning all the other creatures on the plain. They were led by a tiny bastard of a man, with an annoying voice. And he ran multiple, painful tests on us. But they never broke Richard’s spirit, no,” he paused, and when I cracked my eye a slit, she was swaying back and forth, like she was dancing.

“Then, they did. They turned us both to humans, those wretched creatures. That’s all they do here sonny,” she pulled away and I opened my eyes, watching her carefully. “They kill us off or they turn us like them,” she handed me a mirror. “And everyone here is just like me, they have a story just like mine.” I studied her for a moment.

“What happened to Richard, Marge?” I whispered, as if I already knew the answer. Marge shook her head smiling softly.

“Look in the mirror boy, I didn’t do all that work to turn you into a soldier man for it to go a’ wasted.” I looked at the mirror, and I can’t say I wasn’t impressed. My cheekbones were defined now, and there was a fine line of charcoal, hardly noticeable, beneath my waterline that made my gray eyes sparkle. My demeanor was cold but my smile was warm.

“Standard look for the soldier lot, and don’t call them guards sonny,” she laughed when I saluted her.

“Well, thank you Ma,” I joked. Marge stood, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a small clothed bundle. In it was some bread and apple slices.

“For the road child,” she sighed, admiring me. “You look just like Richard did when he swept me off my feet, the first time we were humans. Granted, he was much older than you are now,” she said. I walked over to hold her hand, and then gently picked her up bridal style, spinning twice, before setting her down. I kissed her hand.

“Richard was a lucky man, Marge,” I said, straightening up a bit. With tearful eyes, she shooed me out the door, and I chuckled.

“Off with you,” she said, like a mother sending her child to play. “If you return in one piece, come say goodbye sonny,” and she smiled, closing the door like she had just sent that same child to war, like she had said those words before. Like she’d told a man who looked like me that same phrase before.

In my head, I promised her that this time Richard would come home.

. . .

Evie’s POV

They had taken me in handcuffs from the holding cells, and on a stretcher they had taken Chris. I hadn’t fought, not when they wheeled Chris away from me with three soldiers and a gun, not when they forced me right outside with a bag over my head. I wouldn’t give them reason to kill Chris by showing how much he meant to me.

The bag over my head was an opaque black, but I could still make out a few things. For example, the air smelled lovely before I was shoved onto a helicopter, and the ground beneath me was plush and soft like carpet. And even through the pollution of the helicopter being whipped around by its blades filled my nostrils, I could still make out that lovely scent. It was halfway through the ride in air, when that changed. The smell was chemical and dirty, almost like there was a change of scenery. After a few more moments of that smell, the bag was whipped off my head and my beanie was with it. I rolled my eyes at the gun pointed at my head.

“What am I gonna do, jump?” I shouted sarcastically, motioning to the bindings around my hands. The guard clicked the safety off the gun, like that was supposed to intimidate me.

“Fly wants me alive, otherwise he would have killed me already. Are you really going to risk accidentally pulling the trigger over turbulence and essentially kill me?” The guard hesitated, but he still put the safety back on.

“Yeah,” I retorted loudly, the wind ruffling my short hair somewhat into my face. I started turning my attention to the outside of the compartment.

Outside, everything was white and foggy. Not even kidding. White fog for miles and miles, that’s all one could see. I sighed. Definitely not a sight for sore eyes.

After a minute or two, the helicopter finally came through a clearing, and the blades were starting to push the clouds of fog away from its path.

What lie in wait, was breathtakingly horrifying. A huge prism loomed in front of me, surrounded by blank, flat terrain. It was made of black glass panes, and stretched high into the atmosphere. It caught the sunlight and threw it around like knives, cutting through our flying contraption and blinding me. Shielding my eyes with both arms, I happened to look down. Lo and behold, the land was not completely empty and blank around us.

Surrounding the huge prism were what seemed to be a million cages, made of electrified barbed wire; I know because I watched a figure inside one of them revolt backwards in pain after touching it. As we got closer, I could make out the figures.

PRISM had hundreds upon thousands of Phoenix Society creatures, locked up in cages. And the huge pyramid in front of me, ironically a prism, had to be the labs which they’re tested in. The labs which we can only imagine the insides of, the very ones which Aaron let Alexander Fly install into one, which he let be built in the safe haven we called ours. I shudder at the thought of everything that had to be done to modify this land to be so barren and terrible.

As we approached the lab, the very top fifty feet or so of the pyramid opened up. By that, I mean that the black panels disappeared into transparent ones and the copter landed smoothly, if not loudly, onto a helipad on the center of the squared base.

The guard in the helicopter with me shoved me out, quite literally. He pushed me to fall and probably break something, but I rolled to a standing position, spatting on the ground for good measure as I did.

“Lucerne, that’s no way to treat our guests,” an annoying, high pitched voice sounded behind me. “Under her bindings, I’m sure she won’t…” the voice trailed off as I turned around and the guard, Lucerne, reluctantly ripped my roped bonds off. “... bite,” Alexander Fly stood before me, and a good ten guns or so simultaneously cocked back and aimed their barrels at me. Fly gave me a cold smile. I didn’t return it.

“Oh my my,” I drawled, turning around in a lazy circle as I notoriously did when I needed to observe a new place. “If I’m your guest, then your prisoners must be well taken care of,” I finished to stare down Fly again, but he merely turned around and started walking. I stayed right where I was until Lucerne hit my right shoulder with the butt of a rifle he had taken from another guard. The impact made my knees buckle, but I didn’t fall. I grudgingly followed, trying to ignore the pain in my right shoulder. As we went, Fly decided to give me a history of the place.

“Evie Evie Evie,” he said, taking small steps at a jogging speed. I was strolling long as if through a park. “Perhaps you’d like to know of PRISM’s latest accomplishments?” I scoffed at that.

“You didn’t accomplish anything,” I retorted, Lucerne knocked the back of my right shoulder again, causing me to wince slightly. “But do enlighten me,” I continued sarcastically, shooting a glare at a bald, smirking Lucerne over my shoulder.

“Mhmmm, I thought you’d want to know!” Fly exclaimed. “Settle in dear, I’ve got a story.”

“Fifteen or so years ago, I came across the second head director of my greatest and only company nemesis, Aaron Hitch. And this man, Mr. Hitch, had his sights on two young children, who he knew he would recruit when they became of age. I was going to kill the pair of them instantly to get at the old man, but then my mind got to thinking. On a whim, I threatened to kill them unless he gave me to key to his second dimension, in order to properly run my tests and hide my work from prying eyes. Of course, that meant betraying his boss, the man of it all, and endangering the two kids in the long run anyways. But Aaron Hitch fell for my trap, and then I had the prize.” Although his words hurt me in the heart, I couldn’t say that I, had I been in Aaron’s position.

“And let me guess, those two kids were me and Chris,” I said, uninterested. I was smart, my IQ was high. Fly’s, however, must have been lacking because he seemed surprised that I knew.

“Er, yes but-”

“But tell me, I’d much rather know, how this fine land was acquired in the first place?” Fly took a blind interest in my mock curiosity and happily answered.

“Well, through recent scientific and physics breakthroughs, Dr. Blanc was evidently able to link the atoms in this plain’s bonds with his own world’s before he disappeared. And conveniently, my summoning of the Razz happened in London, the very city this plane is linked to. So there you have it, although you’ll never be able to do much about it,” he cheered, almost like he had won. And I guess, theoretically, he would have.

Except then, he walked into a room somewhere in the middle section of the lab and led me into it, and I noticed two things. One, Razz was there. Still in the same handsome man outfit, but lounging in a chair behind some kind of a control center. And two, there was only one guard in the room. And he was handsome, with high, defined cheekbones and a thin line of charcoal pencil under his eyes. His hair was swept out of his face and looked more attractive than usual. He had a slight smirk on his face, and his stunning gray eyes stared straight ahead. See, where other guards had a glass look in their eyes, this one did too. Except for one difference.

The glass in this guard’s eyes was broken.

I had to bite the inside of my lip, hard, to keep from calling out Chris’s name.

Instead, I turned around and faced Alexander Fly and the Razz. Behind them, stood a huge metal contraption with many bits and bobs attached to it.

“This here is the portal which connects this world with yours,” Fly said, turning the thing on himself. Somewhere along the way we must’ve lost Lucerne, to which I was thankful. My shoulder couldn’t handle much more abuse.

I watched Chris out of the corner of my eye as he slowly, carefully moved to lock the door of the room we were in. I mentally nodded; eliminating outside threat. Something Aaron had mentored us on.

“I’m going to send you back to your Earth now, but you will have nothing. Aaron will spend the rest of his days in this lab, never to be seen again, and the agents of the Phoenix Society will be none the wiser.” The portal lit up behind him as he spoke, ready to run.

“So,” he said, moving himself and Razz out of the way. “Off you go.” I stepped forward and then turned around, a smirk on my face. To answer Fly’s confused expression, Chris stepped forward.

“Yeah well, we can’t leave just yet,” he said, and to Fly’s look of horror, Chris whipped the gun from his halter out and proceeded to shoot him. Alexander Fly was no more. Just like that. The man with all the power, all the evil mastermind planning, was dead, gone, finally ridden of. Just like that.

The Razz snarled, lunging towards Chris, but unfortunately for him, I was faster. I grabbed a knife from Chris’s belt, whipping around and stabbing the soft flesh of the monster’s neck at the same time that Chris shot the blasted thing in the stomach. The roar that ripped from his throat was inhumane in every way, and sent shivers down my spine. Darkness poured out of the creature writhing on the floor, until all that was left of it was a single blood red horn. I picked it up ginergly with two fingers, tucking it into the pocket of my bomber. When I turned around, Chris was already running towards me.

He took me in his arms as we met, crushing me against him. I shut my eyes, holding him tight. Nothing in the world, or our world at least, could take him away from me.

He pulled away, keeping a firm grip on my shoulders and bending his neck slightly to make eye contact with me. “It’s not over Ev, not yet. You know what we have to do, right?” His voice was smooth and soft, and I nodded once.

“But we have to go back first, come on,” I said, pulling his hand with me.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, not following. I glanced up at him, surprised.

“Chris, we have to go back, what do you me-” he cut me off by squeezing me tightly into another hug. I returned it, but I was still confused.

“Ev, I know what they do here. And I made a promise I have to keep. I can’t go back with you,” he murmured into my hair. This time I pulled away first, shocked.

“What no, Chris you can’t stay! After I make the summoning, the remaining Raize will tear London apart and…” I trail off, my eyes widening. “It will take this place with it,” I continued slowly. “And you’ll be in it.” Chris just smiled gently at me, taking my hand in his and holding it tightly, as if for dear life.

“I know,” he whispered. “But I might get out, I might get back in time-”

“But you might not!” I shouted. The room was getting blurry now, but Chris went silent. Suddenly, he reached into his uniform’s breast and pulled out a silver feather. His earring, something I hadn’t noticed he wasn’t wearing. He folded it in my hand.

“I promise I’ll come back,” he whispered. “And I keep my promises, Leanne Rose Verde.” I looked up at him, my mouth agape. It was the first time he had ever called me by my real name.

Chris leaned in, kissing my forehead and leaving himself there for a while. I reached for him but then he pulled away.

“I love you, Ev.” He said. I froze, unable to reply. And just like that, he was gone, running out the door. I finally unfroze.

“Wait!” I cried out, calling for him.

“Don’t wait up for me princess!” he called. And then he was gone.

I backed up, falling onto my knees as I entered the portal, holding his feather close to me.

“I love you too,” I whispered, tears finally finding their way down my sober face. A green light, blinding and powerful, filled the room. And then the portal swallowed me whole.

. . .

Chris’s POV

Leaving Evie alone in that room was painful, and I did so with feet of lead. But I waited, just outside the door, to make sure she actually left. And as she entered the portal, I watched her with a heavy heart as she fell to her knees. Right before the portal took her, I heard her whisper a few quiet words.

“I love you too.” And then she was gone. I ran back into the room, pushing my rifle behind me as I kneeled down to touch the spot Evie had just disappeared from. In its place, a golden feather lay. With a smile to myself, I picked it up and placed it in my ear, carefully twisting it into place. Then I up and left, navigating my way down the hallways of the lab back down the way I came.

Several people had tried to stop me, including guard B, who ran off again. My best bet was that he was off to raise an alarm to Fly, but he would be very disappointed when he found him. I grinned, now sprinting out of the lab, smashing through the glass doors as I went. It’s not like I had an access card anyways.

By the time I had reached the fence of the town I had left earlier, alarms were going off like crazy. I tore through the streets, just trying to get to the back gate. The crowds had actually thinned, giving me a clear path to where I needed to be. When I got back there, I shortened my steps and knocked my shoulder into the building as I turned, but I kept going. I booked it, running past several apartment flats before coming to the last one. When I got there I was running out of time, but I knocked rapidly on the door anyways.

“What are you doing back here sonny?” Marge asked as I gently maneuvered myself around her. Once I was inside, I grabbed what appeared to be Marge’s from a hook in the kitchen and returned to grab Marge’s hand, shutting the door behind us as I pulled her out of the small flat.

“I haven’t got the time to explain it, but we have to go,” I said, peering around the side of the apartment and down the streets. Armed tanks were swarming the whole area like ants at a picnic, and I pulled around to think, cursing under my breath. Marge nearly rolled her eyes at me.

“Silly boy, we’ll never make it to wherever you’re trying to go if you take us that way,” she said, pulling me back to her flat. She pushed open the door and shoved me inside, locking the door behind her.

“Follow me sonny,” she rasped, shuffling quickly down the side hallway towards the third room. I followed her, glancing over my shoulder as I did. When I entered the third room, I was not surprised. It looked just like a typical bedroom, just barren. There was a bed and a rocker next to an old dresser. One window was on the far wall, but it was boarded up shut. In the far corner by her bed, Marge opened a trap door. Mischievously, she smiled.

“This’ll take us straight to that awful lab,” she paused, looking at me carefully. “But you’ll have to be quick to get us to where we need to be before we get caught.” I nodded, helping her down through the door before lowering myself in. I reached up, pulling the door back over our heads, and then turned around. The place was quite standard for a creepy, dark tunnel. Except Marge had these sort of motorbikes against the wall, and she was already running them. They were covered in dust but the lamps in front of them shone through the layers and into the dark. It was almost as if they’d been waiting here forever for someone to steal away on them, like they were a plan long abandoned. Something told me Richard had something to do with this, back in the pair’s prime days. Without hesitating, Marge hopped on one, surprisingly nimble for a lady of her age. I had to remind myself that she wasn’t always a human, and probably wasn’t as affected by age as she otherwise would’ve been.

I swung a leg over the second bike, revving the engine up a bit. I glanced over to Marge.

“After you,” I called, gesturing for her to go first. She took off, laughing maniacally, and I followed.

Along the way the tunnel started becoming newer and began branching off into different directions, but Marge seemed to know exactly where she was heading, leading us down several different alleys. We passed a few young guards along the way, but they jumped off to the sides and didn’t even try to pursuit us. I don’t blame them. If I saw a sixty year old lady laughing like a madman and barreling towards me at about seventy miles per hour, I’d probably jump out of the way too.

After countless twists and turns down different tunnels, Marge finally stopped. By stopped, she literally slammed on her brakes and turned sharply, sending me straight into the dark abyss after her. I flew off the bike, rolling rather ungracefully on the dirt floor as my bike disappeared god knows where. Marge wheezed at me, to which I rolled my eyes.

“Come on child, let me show you where I used to meet Richard every four days,” she said, walking up some stairs in what I thought was another alley. So that’s why she had those bikes.

“Marge,” I tried again, panting slightly and squinting into the sudden light that came from the door she opened. “What happened to Richard?” Marge held a wrinkled hand out in front of me.

“Hush child, we enter the Lab now,” she whispered. When we got in, she gestured for me to step forward. We were in a little janitors closet, which was probably the only part of the lab Marge ever entered, save her pre-human days.

“Careful where you touch, we were younger twenty years ago” the old woman teased, smacking me on the back.

“Oh my goodness,” I said, now gingerly making my way to the door. I twisted the door handle open with my pointer finger and thumb.

“Marge, that’s nasty,” I said disgustedly. She cackled.

Outside of the closet, the hallways were empty. Each hallway looked exactly like it had just came out of Star Wars, all white and space doorways included. I felt like a rebel, running through the passages of a stormtroopers lair. Behind me was General Laia, following my orders. I smiled; there was never an inappropriate time to geek out.

Marge was keeping up fairly well, and we were running as fast as the sharp angled turns would let us. When I came into the lab the first time to get to Evie, I had memorized the middle level of the pyramid, and now made my way to the portal room. Marge was panting behind me, but we made it to the portal with all the bits and bobs. We would’ve gotten away too I reckon, if a certain figure hadn’t barged in with a certain weapon and a certain person hadn’t thrown herself out as uncertain bait.

It all happened rather quickly, honestly. Lucerne had yanked a gun from his waistband, the kind that didn’t exist in the real world, and shoved its barrel towards my face. He grinned evilly, as if he had been waiting since the day I set foot in this dimension to do what he was going to now.

“For Alexander,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

I’m not sure how to describe the feeling of someone jumping in front of you to save you from certain destruction and death, the shock in looking down and not seeing blood spurt out from inside of you. Mostly because the bullet actually hit me.

In most stories and movies, the main character gets unexpectedly saved by another important character in the heat of a crisis and in turn dies. It’s the most overused and sentimentally captivating trope ever used in cinematic history if you ask me, but it’s not always what happens apparently. Mostly because a bullet traveling at lightning speeds in close quarters is ten times faster than any human will ever be to intercept its course.

When the bullet hit me, it was quite unlike anything portrayed by the movies. The little lead ball ripped through my body like a cleaver through melting butter, except it felt electrifying. Ten dollars the damned thing was actually electric, thanks to Fly’s extensive budget and experimenting. The intrusion on my body brought me to my knees first, and the shock was rather uncalled for. I looked down in wonder, my eyes wide and mouth agape, fathoming the possibility that I might survive. It was funny, the way that blood exits a wound. It glints and spills, deep in color and sparse in hope. It spurts from stabs and blooms out from blasts, and really leaves no room for emotion.

As I looked up from where I sprawled on the floor, dropping down upon my knees, I looked at Marge but she didn’t look at me. There was a fire in her eyes, and I closed my own. I had accepted it, and began to fall forward, but wrinkled, strong hands pushed me back. I forced my eyes open and helplessly watched Marge shove me into the portal which wasn’t on anymore, and she looked me sternly in the eyes

“Don’t give up now sonny, I won’t let ya,’” I nodded, beginning to lose consciousness.

I reached my hand out to bring Marge with me as she turned the portal on and Lucerne’s army started to advance, but she simply shook her head stubbornly.

“You kept asking about Richard boy,” she said, her accent now old and southern. “Here’s what happened to Richard.” The portal turned on just in time for a bullet to rip it’s way through the heart of the golden woman, and I swear a burst of sparkling shards shot out of her chest as I screamed my voice raw.

“NO!” I screamed, clawing at my stomach and lunging towards her. She simply smiled at me, before her eyes dropped shut.

“No, no no no,” I cried out, my voice failing me. I was helplessly crying now, sobbing harshly, and I had no idea why.

The portal took me as Lucerne and his army advanced, yelling battle cries, but I passed out instead. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care if I didn’t wake up, if I’d had too much blood loss to live another day.

It was while I was getting transported into a different, old dimension that it made sense, the tears on my face. It reminded me of the day my father died, leaving my mom and I to fight for ourselves. Leaving me ok to die. Leaving me content to be killed. Leaving me the mess I was now.

. . .

If the Lord had ever wanted to give me any salvation from the Hell I lived on, he wouldn’t have let me wake up like I did the next hour. He would have granted me peace in Heaven, and not Hell on Earth. He would’ve clotted my bleeding and dressed me in gold, he would’ve taken my heart and laced me in silver. But instead he threw me on Earth again, tossed me in the rough, in my own blood sweat and tears. He threw me off the coast of a beach in San Francisco and into the smoke of compact buildings. He threw me thousands of miles away from Evie. He threw me to the front of a television shop, where the news was the only thing on. He threw me back to Earth. And I hated what I saw.

San Francisco was always a place I hated. It was where I had lived when I was younger, when I had lived with my mother. In fact, if I started walking now, my feet would find themselves back at our doorstep. And if I let my mind wander long enough when I got there, my hands would find a way to unearth the particular stone which hid the key I buried there when I was six years old. But I couldn’t let myself wander.

When I woke, I was in some sort of alley or another, laying on the dirty ground and grimacing. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs, and I was still wearing the ridiculously well fitting uniform. The blood adorning my chest made my top crisp and blunt, the buttons stained crimson. Sitting up hurt like the devil, and that’s when the pain simultaneously went away. Because Razz left the Earth with Evie, and I’d been out for at least an hour.

I stumbled up to my feet with difficulty, using the brick wall beside me for support. My left arm was wrapped around my torso and my hand was pressing into the wound to compress the still slightly bleeding skin. My right arm propelled me back out through the alley and I turned around, searching for some sort of television news station. I thanked the lord who didn’t help me before for the miracle that was in front of me; an electronic shop. I tripped my way to the glass, pressing my hands up beside my face like a little kid at the toy store. My handprints were bloody but I didn’t care; I was focused on the news station in front of me.

Separated by only one thin inch of glass between me and the rest of the world, London was falling.

. . .

Evie’s POV

Returning to the cavern in which I had first lost Chris proved to be a difficult task. Not because the way was tarnished with blood and broken glass, nor about the inexplicable rubble laying around the entrance. Not necessarily because the path was dimmer without a bottle of rum in my clutches, or because the light streaming in was weak and gray, soon to be strong and red. More because stitched into the rough seams of the walls were screams and tears and absence, the absence of pain.

Yes, although I stalked down this tunnel with my shoulders thrown back and with eyes of glass, the very glass that was broken in Chris’s eyes, the presence that sulked my posture wasn’t pain. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sorrow. Rather, it was hopelessness. It was a sense of giving up, of stoic actions and simply not caring. I was done.

So done that when I swung into the room I was destined for, I didn’t particularly mind that the demons in my mind were screaming louder than the ones I was about to summon. It was all a bit too easy, I think. Kick the salt off the summoning sight, light the pentagram up and wait. I chanted a few Latin terms in there somewhere, but that was hardly important now.

There was no bright bang of light this time, rather a black simmering and cackling in the air. It was electrifying and dangerous, but I didn’t mind. I sighed, a hand on my hip and the other tapping a tune on my leg. By the time half of Hell had arrived, glitching in and out in front of me like a broken computer, I was beginning to think maybe it’d be easier to meet the asphalt from the top of the ruined pub. I felt emotionless, but I’m sure if the camera panned to me in the third person, you could see a sadness in my eyes. But above all else, I was simply done. There was nothing else to it.

“A human has called,” a demon hissed. It wasn’t evident which one addressed me, but it was evident that they weren’t happy I had a fellow demon in the room over.

“Yeah,” I said unenthusiastically. “A human with one of yours.  I’ll keep it short,” I said, looking up now. I was slumped against the wall, and no crossed my arms.

“I need you to destroy London.” The demons’ activity paused for a moment, and then got going more than ever. They were excited, but maybe a little bit confused too.

“No human has ever requested of our skills like you, little girl,” a different voice rasped from the hell hole. “What if we decided to… take the rest of the world too?” It sneered at the end of its question. The kind of sneer you can just hear.

“You won’t,” I smirked. “Because I’ve got your master, Razz, here in my own hands. You won’t get him back until your job is done. And you sure as hell ain’t gonna get him back if you torch this damned place, either. So,” I said, finishing my proposition, “Choose wisely.”

All at once, the blur in front of me stilled, and I could see thousands, maybe millions, of different shades of fire and blood and darkness, layered upon each other.

“Are you sure,” a shadow drawled, emphasizing the ‘s’ in ‘sure.’

“Very,” I snarled. “One condition,” I said. A slight buzzing could be heard in the cavern, growing louder.

“You give me and your precious Razz four hours to get out of this town. You can come collect him once London is destroyed. And,” I added, “I’ll find you.”

A pause. “Deal,” a few of them hissed. I felt a grin with no emotion creep up my face.

“Lovely,” I mused. “I’ll be watching,” I said, and then proceeded to leave. I grabbed the ziptied cuffs on Razz, yanking him after me. Once I shoved him in front of me, I brushed the salt I had accumulated from the cuffs off on my jeans.

“We’re catching a flight,” I ordered. When we got to the main road, Razz headed for the airport. I yanked him backwards, forcing him to walk to the back of a crop dusting field instead. Odd sight for the place.

“What-” I cut him off.

“Not that kind of flight,” I said with mock delight. “It’s a good thing you’ve got your boots on.”

. . .

It took us one precious hour to get the small crop dusting plane running, to find the fuel and fill up the small tanks.

“This isn’t going to last,” Razz stated, annoyed.

“It’s not like we’re trying to get to California,” I replied, hopping into the plane. “This should get us off the coast of Maine,” I considered this. “Maybe.” I could practically hear the eye roll, but with his handcuffed hands and in his human form, Razz clambered rather gracefully into the second seat of the crop duster, dropping the weight of the plane into the back dramatically.

“Hurry up,” he growled. We’ve only got a few hours left, to get safely away from England.”

I turned around, facing his icy red eyes. “I told them London only,” I said, eyes narrowed. This time I saw the eye roll.

“Well they’ll definitely try,” he sassed, “but despite their hardest efforts, England isn’t going to last past today.” I shrugged, turning around again.

“England can fly a kite for all I care,” I murmured. “It never did anything for me anyways.” I started up the plane, blindly rummaging for the goggles I had thrown into the cockpit earlier. I threw one behind my head, hearing a pair of claws struggle to grasp them. I smirked, adjusting the side mirror a car would have, and watching Razz as he raised a perfect-man eyebrow questioningly.

“Goggles. Put ‘em on, smart one,” Razz glared at me through the mirror and I laughed, finally amused. Razz snapped them on anyways as I did the same with the second pair.

“Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Here goes nothing.”

We had only been in the air twenty minutes, rocking not-so-encouragingly through the air, when Razz tapped my shoulder. I looked into the mirror and nearly gasped.

“They probably thought they could get to me before your requirements,” Razz said, almost disappointedly.

I called the lot of them some unintelligent words before focusing back on the air traffic.

“Whatever,” I bluffed. “We’re out anyways.” To prove my point, I glanced down, and Razz did to. We had officially left England. If our little plane faltered now, we would plummet into a concrete ground of ocean. I swallowed a lump and tried not to look down.

“And,” Razz said, gaining my third eye’s attention once more. “It appears they’ve already laid waste to London.” As if on cue, the cliffs bordering the ocean behind us lit up in flames, and the air behind us turned smoky and red. It was all very quick and I felt a tugging in my stomach. Tears brimmed in my eyes, but the wind resistance swept them away quickly.

There was no way to tell if Chris was still alive. There was no way to say he wasn’t, but it was sure easier to find evidence for.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and our crop duster tilted sideways as I took us into a thick group of clouds, blowing all of them away. We were headed far away from where we were, and I almost laughed at the irony of it all.

After all, London bridge was falling down.

. . .

Chris’s POV

It had been two years since I watched London burn. It had been two years since all of England had perished. It had been two years since I learned how to properly patch bullet wounds and clean them. It had been two years since Evie received a Phoenix earring in her right ear. It had been two years since Evie had burnt that earring, worn a silver one instead, and tried to move on. It had been two years since I had worn a golden one in my own ear.

I missed Evie desperately, but she went off the charts twenty months ago. I had tracked her for a good four, and then she disappeared.

It was the hardest thing I had ever done; let a loved one think I was dead. My own mother didn’t count; the first thing I did was look for her, but the cemetery told me that she had apparently finally overdosed, and preferred life six feet under. Nothing to do about that, then.

Multiple times I had considered taking my own life, as it seemed easier than waking up just to remember that there was no one left for me. But I didn’t, because Evie was still out there.

After a year, I got a humane job as a gardener for the church my mother was buried at. The pay was surprisingly good and I got a small apartment just one block away.

One day I was potting magnolias, just outside the backdoor and in a sort of greenhouse of the church. The church hadn’t actually had a service in a long time, which is why I was surprised when a tall woman for genetics but short compared to me walked in. Her hair was long, and blonde at the roots. The ends were a sort of brown, but it looked like it was washed out. I blew it off, but then she spoke.

“I never thought I’d be able to walk into a church,” her voice whispered, still echoing loudly in the abandoned pews. I stopped cold, turning around and walking slowly to the threshold of the greenhouse again and watching the way the woman knelt, her back on me. And then my heart stopped. She was wearing an army bomber jacket, but no beanie and adorned in a sundress and black converse.

“After all,” she chuckled lightly. “I’ve had a few encounters with demons myself.” Slowly, I circled around the pews and towards the front, silently. The woman, more of a matured girl and maybe in her early twenties, kept talking slowly.

“You know,” she whistled gently, her eyes closed. “There was a boy.” I froze. “He had the prettiest eyes, like a broken storm. They were the light gray of morning and the strong gleam of steel, the weak gray of clouds and the stunning depth of dusty jewels. He had a silver dollar smile, the height that made me look short, and the hands of a fabric worker. His voice wasn’t gruff or husky, it was soft and light, but held the authority of a war leader.” Without noticing, my hand rose to my throat, and my eyes began to water as she described this boy to no one, and yet to me. “And his hair, was always lovely and a sort of unruly style, and always feathery soft.” She chuckled painfully and shallowly as my hand brushed my hair out of my face even though I knew it would flop back out.

“I loved him,” she whispered, somehow softer. I felt my throat clog, and I wanted to scream. I silently fell to my knees behind the first pew, and my eyes were wetting my cheeks with tears. I grasped the row of chairs in front of me, the only thing between me and the girl, and managed to keep my vision on her.

“Lord, how do I say this?” she plead. “He was an angel, but the world did not deserve him, so the Heavens took him home.” I covered my mouth with my hand, betrayed by tears. I wanted to scream, to yell or shout. That no, I wasn’t an angel. I’ve let you think I was dead for two years, I’ve gotten Aaron and Marge and several loved ones and  innocent people killed, I’ve slept just fine on some nights even though many bodies lay on top of me. I’m no angel.

The woman stood, and I saw her emerald eyes, burning with tears. She was indeed hardly older than a girl. And although she was mature, and strong, she was wearing a shell. I could see a careless girl in her; one that drank often but never smoked, one that had scars on her wrists and was proud to wear them, one whos hair was short and always messed up, one who never gave up and never really cared at the same time, one who smiled through fire and smoke and made me fall in love with her all over again.

As she walked away, a silver feather of a bird, specifically a phoenix, swung from her earlobe. I stood, watching her walk away, and felt the weight of the golden feather in my own earlobe.

I willed my feet to move, to chase after my dreams and grab that girl’s hand. But I didn’t. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. And for the second time in my life, I watched Evie Leanne Rose Verde walk away. And I let her.

I hit my knees again, sobbing like a baby, willing myself to be a man and go get her, but I couldn’t. Only one thing was going through my mind, and it was how much I loved Evie, and longed for Leanne Rose Verde.

Perhaps it would have been easier if I died, if I never made it out of that terrible dimension alive. Maybe, if I had gone back for Aaron rather than forget him, we both would have died. Maybe it would have been easier if I never saw London burning, or if Evie had died herself. Maybe it would have been easier.

I sat there like that, for hours. When I finally stood up, exhausted from being weak and enraged for not chasing after the dream I never got to chase, all I could think about were the memories we made in England. The drinks we had in London, the treks we made to Sussex. The lazy days we spent touristing when Razz sent me slightly out of my mind. The laughing and giggling spent into long nights. The insane crying when my mind lost control and the desperation in the end. That’s all I could think about for the life of me. But all of that was gone now. I had let all of that slip right out of my hands. I had let go of England, and yet that was all that was left. All I could think about. It was going to kill me. I wanted it to kill me. I wanted to die. London gave me every reason to live; it gave me every reason to give up.

Oh my, England was such a drowsy place.

. . .

Epilogue

Their story is nothing short of depressing you see, and nothing short of beautiful. No one else ever knew quite what happened to London that day; but everyone does know that it will always go down as London’s falling, as no human suffered any injury. The greatest mystery in the world, known by only two star-crossed heartbeats, that were willing to die for the other but now beat without each other. It really is tragic. And so our whole story wraps up, theirs and mine, one and two and together as a whole. This is how it ends. This is how all adventure ends really; eventually and suddenly, without explanation, because that’s how life goes. That’s how everything goes. Some things have dramatic conclusions, romanticized pains and sufferings. Ours just ends, with the above sacrifices included. But that’s it.

So tell me; if the world gave you everything you ever needed in the form of everything that could possibly kill you, would you take it? Would you dare to venture down the paths that those before our story have traveled, or the one our most daring have just traveled? I cannot answer this for you. This you must answer yourself. So answer it.

This is my cryptozoological story for my class. Please enjoy. Feed back is welcome, wanted, and appreciated. Please do not steal any of my work; I spent months writing this roughly 20,000 word story.