The hallway was silent. Lights buzzing quietly over head, the potted plants stuffed into dainty corners scorned her as she stood an arms length away from the door before her. A light flush had overtaken her cheeks, purely from memories of the last time she had been inside that apartment. The circles under her eyes had darkened considerably, and she was more pale than usual from a few days without bothering to really eat anything. An expression that was torn between pain and anger hovered over her features as she contemplated knocking, and chewed on her bottom lip.

What was she doing back here? Surely she wasn't apologizing about everything that had happened.

..No.. no she wasn't.

She was standing there purely out of a lack of anywhere else to go. Motels were filthy, the mansion meant answering questions to a roommate who would surely pester her about things, and... she couldn't honestly face her own apartment right now. It was still painful even thinking about what had happened.

So.. wait, why was she here again? His stupid, aggravating face would act as a constant reminder to her... what was she hoping to gain meeting him again? She thought about it for a moment, and couldn't pinpoint an answer. Her feet had led her to where she currently stood... and she was pretty tired of running. Blowing black bangs from her face, she pulled a hand from her pocket and rapt a few times on the door.

She didn't expect things to go smoothly, in fact, she expected yelling and possibly violence. But she didn't really care anymore. Losing someone close to her, the last person she had allowed inside her walls, had left her seeking out trouble whenever she had the chance. The healing split on her bottom lip was proof of it, as well as the new bruises on her ribs.

She could handle an argument, even getting turned away, so long as she could cross this meeting off her list... and maybe snag a place to sleep for the night. After knocking a few more times, she patted herself down to make sure her various weapons were still on her person (just in case a fight started), before tucking her hands back into her pockets of her jeans.

Vicente de la Sangre…was musing. Now, now, don’t make fun (mainly because the man would sooner slit your throat than explain his position), but the truth of the matter was that the assassin truly did enjoy moments where he could have extensive thoughts. A lot had been happening lately and, honestly, the man really just wanted a moment of reflection. The biggest change, obviously, was his latest experience with Megan and her little band of misfits. The wedding, the blood, the deaths, all of it was better just buried in the back of his mind and forgotten.

But, for whatever reason, it was Megan who still managed to flutter about in the back of his mind. The young woman, who not only cost him money on a job, but got him kidnapped and nearly killed, had been pestering him. He was going to confront her that night. Then a giant bug was killed. Apparently a bug that she was attached to. Vicente figured he’d just extort her later and left her alone with the corpse.

Oddly, though, he wondered about her. There was only so much that certain people could take before they end up falling off the deep end. Vicente had seen it more times than he could count. It was not as if he cared about her, though, more like how was he going to make the money back off his lost job if she offed herself or happened to disappear?

Vicente hated losing money.

So the man contemplated. Standing alone on his balcony in the middle of the night, the man, dressed in very dark jeans, boots, and unbuttoned shirt, grumbled silently to himself as he took a sip from a cold Corona he held loosely between his fingers. He wanted his money (obviously), but was it really worth the effort of tracking her down? He doubted it. Maybe it would just be better to let her fade awa—

KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK![/b]

Eyebrow arched, the assassin turned and eyed his front door. He never got visitors. Another sip of his beer and Vicente set it down as he stepped towards the door. He crossed the elegant looking living room and pulled a machete from a “display” that he had situated on a coffee table. Holding the weapon in hand, he crept up to the door and peered through the peep hole…

His jaw then dropped. She had some goddamn nerve.

Machete still in hand, the man pulled the door open and stood there, eyeing her closely. The pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes, the ragged clothing, all of it only added to one thing…

“You look like sh!t,” he growled.

“You look like sh!t,”

The door swung open, and there he was. She resisted the urge to about face and march off down the hallway without a word. The unbuttoned shirt would have normally at least gotten a curious eyebrow raise.. but she really didn't care at the moment. She simply stood and stared, not reacting in the slightest when she caught sight of the blade he held.

...Still, in her pocket her hand clenched ever so slightly around a pair of brass knuckled she had hidden under her gloves. She didn't much care about losing her life and what not, but getting hacked to bits by a larger, sharper cousin of a bowie knife wasn't the least painful way to go.

She'd avoid it if she could...

"... I know." She muttered back, running a hand through her loose hair. She did look awful... but looking good took energy, and she just didn't have any. Thankfully, she had found her way to his doorstep before she had gotten too ragged.

"... May I come in?" The words were hollow, a formality at best. Megan had never been one with manners unless a situation called for it, but she didn't feel like her usual snark would make the situation any better. Instead, she'd chose her words carefully, tiptoeing her way around her usual mannerism.

Even if it was kind of painful to ask if she could come in.

>> "... I know."[/color]

She really must be out of her mind. After everything she did, everything that she put him through just for KNOWING her and she didn’t have more than two words to say? Part of him wonder if maybe she was on some type of drug or something and managed to find her way to his apartment? One look at her eyes, though, and he would see the soberness there. She was not drunk, not high out of her mind, but she looked exhausted and, most of all, she actually looked a little desperate.

>> "... May I come in?"[/color]

He arched a brow. Did she really just ask him to come in? The question coming from her lips was so alien that Vicente instantly wondered if she were really Megan after all (he’d met more than his share of appearance shifters)? But that definitely sounded odd. No , this was Megan, but this was a Megan that was different than the one he had always run across. This Megan was hollow.

Dark eyes scanned her, wondering what exactly she wanted but didn’t voice it out loud. He had a feeling that she would tell him, eventually, when she wanted to. So, instead, Vicente finally just stepped back and used the flat of his machete to hold the door open for her.

He made sure that he was out of her way just so that he conveyed that indeed she could come in. His voice did not want to confirm any of that, though, as he opted to remain silent on the matter. It didn’t matter how much she hated him (which he was certain was a lot) but she was here. And for her to actually come and see him, on her own, without any prompting, then something big must be wrong with her.

It was only when she walked fully into his apartment did he push the door closed with his machete and lock it. Slowly, then he turned his gaze to her…

“There something you want? Or did you just think that today was a good day to bug me?” he asked. It was always good to get straight to the point.

“There something you want? Or did you just think that today was a good day to bug me?”

The twenty five year old stopped in the hallway, hands still tucked in her pockets, and turned to face him. Was there something she wanted?... Yes. There were many things she wanted, many of which she wasn't sure if she could handle getting. But, there were only a few things she wanted from him specifically.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment just yet... Too many memories." It was the truth, and probably all he would be getting out of her on the matter. He didn't need to know much more about her connection to Roach, or her feelings... and he sure as hell didn't need to know any more about her past. He already knew far too much in her opinion.

..but... there were other things on her mind as well. She wondered how he had taken her actions on the bridge, and if she would be getting any retaliation for it. As she turned back around and eyed his living room, she sighed. "...I am aware that it is a lot to ask, but... could I stay here for a little while?"

God, that felt strange to ask... Especially after their last merry trip to his home.

"...Figured I might as well get this out of the way before it crept up to bite me in the ass as well... Last time we met didn't exactly leave much time to talk..."

Vicente closed and locked the door (habit for keeping his apartment secure) and turned to eye the woman again. He still held the machete in hand as he tilted his head to look at her. She really did look pretty ragged, but beyond that she looked lost. Not that the assassin particularly cared about any of that, but it did make him curious as to what exactly she was doing here. This was more than just a social visit but he could not figure out what it was. Did she have money to pay him back on that job? Pfft, he doubted that. Did she really have the gall to ask for a favor? If so, she definitely had brass ones…

>> "I don't want to go back to my apartment just yet... Too many memories…I am aware that it is a lot to ask, but... could I stay here for a little while?"[/color]

His eyebrow was not going to get a chance to sit right will it? The second he heard her question, it arched again and Vicente was thrown for a loop. Was this complete pain in his butt actually asking to share his living space for an unspecified amount of time? She had to be completely and utterly out of her damn mind.

The assassin snickered a little, though, since raging against her was doubtfully going to produce any results. Instead, he merely shook his head in disbelief as he crossed his arms over his muscular chest and still kept his machete blade in hand.

>> "...Figured I might as well get this out of the way before it crept up to bite me in the ass as well... Last time we met didn't exactly leave much time to talk..."[/color]

“I remember, you were plastered off your butt on rum,” he responded.

He didn’t know what it was that she was trying to run away from but he was going to be damned if he was going to allow her to bring even MORE trouble down upon his doorstep. Had not the last couple been bad enough? What did he have to do to rid himself of this woman and her presence in his life forever? There was always helping her slip this mortal coil but frankly, she didn’t seem like she was actually worth that much effort.

A roll of his eyes as he pointed the machete threateningly at her.

“I’m not running a hotel here, sweetheart,” he growled. “And you’ve caused me more than enough damage, money, and sanitythen I’d like to mention.” Head tilted the large man still held the machete at her. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hack your goddamn hand off, Megan, and call it even for ruining my job on that bridge?”

“I remember, you were plastered off your butt on rum,”

Her hackles rose and she clenched her fists in her pockets. Okay... so he brought it up, of course he would... she had mostly been expecting that. She fought down a sudden flare of anger, took a deep breath and forcefully relaxed suddenly tense shoulders.

“I’m not running a hotel here, sweetheart, And you’ve caused me more than enough damage, money, and sanity then I’d like to mention. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hack your goddamn hand off, Megan, and call it even for ruining my job on that bridge?”

Sweetheart didn't describe her right in the slightest. She turned her chin, blue eyes locking on the weapon held threateningly out toward her and she frowned slightly. So... they were already at that point then? Slowly, with measured steps, she turned on the spot until she was facing him. She remained quiet while she thought, as if really trying to come up with a reason. She was actually busy trying to gauge if she was outside of his range, and and if she wasn't how many steps back she would get before he would follow her. She doubted that it would take more than one... Once your opponent starts backing away, you've basically already won.

"I'd like to, I can assure you that." Calmly, she pulled a hand from her pocket and held it out toward him as if she were waiting to take something for him. "But I don't have any." She shrugged her other shoulder lazily, pulled her other hand free from her pocket, and let it hang loosely at her side. "Take the hand if you want it, I can't see it doing anything more than staining your carpet and giving you momentary satisfaction."

It was a bluff... and a big one at that. She watched him like a hawk the entire time, eyes waiting to catch any signs of movement. Her free arm hovered at her side, ready to reach back and pull the little pistol from its cozy hiding place tucked into the back of her jeans.
She didn't even blink for a few tense moments... but her mind wandered a little.

"...It didn't sound like you were intending to finish this job of yours anyway, considering you seemed to want the boy for different reasons."

Vicente eyed her closely. He really wanted to hear what she had to say. She cost him money, damaged his home, and was nothing but an all around irritation. Besides the fact that she occasionally caused him a moment of entertainment (and she had certain other assets), he really did not seem much redeeming quality in her. One swipe of the blade and she would be gone forever, never to bother him again. But he was more curious than anything. He always marveled whenever she opened her mouth and listened to the words that followed. What else could she possible say now?

>> "I'd like to, I can assure you that…But I don't have any.”[/color]

He sneered.

>> “Take the hand if you want it, I can't see it doing anything more than staining your carpet and giving you momentary satisfaction." [/color]

She certainly did have big, swinging, brass ones. Anyone else in her position more than likely could have fell to their knees and whimpered or tried to run out of the apartment. To many times he run into people like this, people who begged him to let them live and in their final moments they always became the most sniveling, pathetic creatures. It was quite a shame to see the bold and brave collapse into such quivering ooze.

But Megan didn’t; instead she raised her arm and still did not keep her mouth shut. It was definitely entertaining to say the least.

>> "...It didn't sound like you were intending to finish this job of yours anyway, considering you seemed to want the boy for different reasons."[/color]

…

Brass. Ones.

He narrowed his eyes at her final comment. He knew all too well what she was talking about. After he had returned to his real age, he remembered everything from that day and knew exactly what he was thinking at that time. He wanted a second a chance, to live the life he wanted outside of being a killer, to recapture the youth he lost in becoming the monster he was. But Vicente, now did not view himself as being a monster a terrible thing. Survival; he knew how to survive because of his experiences and he would never get that up.

Megan had seen him in the only moment he would have ever considered himself as weak. The knowledge of that pissed him off. No one should ever see weakness in him, ever.

Teeth bared, Vicente stormed up to her, eyeing her arm and raising his machete high. She wanted to assume he was bluffing, fine!

“Arrgh!” he growled as he swung the machete down, hard and fast.

SLIICE!

THUNK!![/b]

Jaw clenched, the man cracked his neck to the side and eyed the blade now embedded into the into the arm of the couch that was just to the side of where Megan was standing. Another fraction of an inch and he would have removed her arm.

“I like this carpet,” was all he said, his reasons for not cutting off her arm. He then turned as he began to head to the kitchen for more alcohol. “You steal anything from here and I will cut off your damn head.”

For a moment, it looked as if her bluff had been called. He stepped forward, blade raised, anger in his eyes, and all she could do was force back a flinch and reach for her gun.

A fraction of a second before her fingers touched the warm metal, however, the sharp machete was buried into the couch beside her... and her arm was still attached. It was surely a miracle if she had ever seen one.

“I like this carpet, You steal anything from here and I will cut off your damn head.”

Good thing she wasn't in a thieving mood. She waited until his back was to her, to let herself visibly relax and her arm drop to her side. The threat was gone for the moment, though there was a constant reminder of just how close she had come to losing an arm sitting right next to her. Slowly, her eyes traveled from the Rafael's back to the blade he had been holding. She didn't know how many of the damn things he owned, but each had probably seen it's fair share of victims. She knew she was rather lucky not to be counted among them.

With a little sigh, her other hand dropped from behind her, away from her hidden weapon, and she turned to stare at the machete. "...Guess he doesn't care much for the couch, then..." Prying the blade free from fabric and stuffing alike, she eyed it carefully in her hand for a moment, before striding further into the living room. She dropped it on the coffee table as she passed, and stopped herself before the windows.

As she was about to put slip her hands back into her pockets, a sudden stinging sensation sprang to life. She raised the hand she had been holding out to Rafael, the one that had dodged being snipped from her body by a fraction of an inch, and noticed that a little finger nail sized portion of skin was missing from one of her fingers. Had her gloves not been fingerless, she probably wouldn't have noticed right away. A rueful smile curled her lip and she giggled, eyeballing the tiny insignificant wound as blood crept to the surface.

He had been so damn close to harming her, that turning away at the last second had still nicked her pretty good. Bringing the finger to her mouth, she stopped herself from bleeding on his carpet, and stared out at the city's night lights.

After a few moments of staring blankly out the window, she turned and eyed the living room again. Of all the things she wanted to do, sitting down was not on the list. If she sat, anywhere, she was sure that she wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. A nap sounded amazing... and with Rafael stalking around, also very dangerous.

But... A shower sounded just lovely. She shot a glance in the direction he had gone, before treading a path straight toward the bathroom.

There was the sound of a fridge door being opened a little roughly and slammed closed. Vicente did not like the idea of having a house guest and, as easy as it would be the just slay the young woman, he guess he had some kind of respect for her irritating boldness. Besides, maybe by keeping her close by he can figure some way to get his money back or something at least work that much. She had interesting abilities and those could always come in handy. Her presence here would merely be passed off as research. That was the best way he could think about it.

His fingers wrapping around the cool, bottle neck of another beer, Vicente sighed as he popped the cap and took another swig. Though he was not the type of man share space with anyone, he knew that Megan was not stupid enough to get in the way of his work or…well…in his way in general. The machete should have at least taught her how serious he was.

A sneer on his face he sighed as he eyed the beer in his hand. Pssh, she could get her own if she wanted any. Shaking his head, he turned and headed out of the kitchen just in time to hear one of his doors close…then the sound of water.

“Well why don’t you just move right the **** in,” he snarled and turned to head back to his bedroom. He needed to make sure that she could not claim his bed like she did the first time he brought her here.

****

Outside the luxury apartment complex, a black van was situated. It was non descript, probably a flower delivery van, a mover’s van, maybe FBI agents secretly spying on someone, who knew! From the outside it was like any other vehicle parked along the street and blended in with the ambiance of the urban setting. But it was probably a good thing that no one really tried to investigate the van; if they had they probably would have been met with bullet between the eyes.

Inside a group of men sat and spied the building closely. It was obvious that they were part of some nefarious organization (the dark suits, the slicked back hair, the scarred, rough looking faces), but they were like any other in the city. These particular goons, though, were part of mob family which had suffered hard times…hard times that were instigated because of one man...Vicente de la Sangre.

The Wayne family first began to suffer when their boss was embarrassed in front of the head of the Falcone family by Vicente, and then killed by a gunman that they only assumed was him. Since that day they had suffered, losing strength, power, money, so they sought to make the man pay. But nothing seemed to work. After several attempts, it all simply ended with the men being sent away in body bags. But they had something…finally: his address…as well as the key to his powers.

The plan was simply: catch him off guard, disable his powers, then gut the man in the most painful manner possible. Only with blood would the Wayne family earn back respect.

A glance to one another, and the five men armed themselves before exiting the van and storming directly for the building…

The warmth of a shower washed some of her stress away, as well as dirt and quite a bit of blood. She hadn't realized that she was so filthy before coming over. The whole thing only lasted for a few minutes, but she was content with the end results. Clean hair, which no longer leaked black dye on her, and freshly scrubbed skin. She hadn't bothered to make any new spider batches within the last few days, so her shoulders and back were oddly lacking in wounds. Then again, she hadn't bothered to because she didn't have anything to be paranoid about anymore. Trent was dead, Roach was... Roach was gone. She didn't need a mob of little spider scurrying around constantly, keeping an eye on dark corners.

With a sigh, she ruffled her hair dry with a towel, before wrapping it securely around herself. She'd deal with her dirty clothes later, after she napped... or something. With a little click the bathroom door swung gently open. She had cleaned up any mess left behind, and hadn't bothered to use any of his shower products. She glanced out into the hall, both ways, before strolling back toward the living room. Any droplets of water were gone by the time she got there, and with her things folded neatly in her arms she found a corner to set them in. The view from his apartment was still just as spectacular as it had been the last time she had been there, and it fully captured her attention... until...

Knockknock.

Her head whipped around, and without really thinking she found herself wandering toward the door. 'Who's there..?' Through the peep hole, she saw... a pizza boy? A red and while cap, head tilted just right so that she couldn't see his face. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, but decided not to judge whatever junk food Lion face decided to shovel down his gullet. He was in pretty good shape anyway, so it wasn't exactly like it was going straight to his gut or anything. She casually unlocked the door, barely had it open as she turned and called over her shoulder. "Rafael? You order a piz--"

Before she could finish her sentence, the door was roughly shoved open the rest of the way and someone reached in to grip her shoulder. The Pizza man had tossed an empty pizza box to the side, and she caught sight of a gun in one of his hands. Yanking herself to the side, out of his grasp, she pulled a newly learned move and swept one of his legs neatly out from under him. While it wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, it gave her a moment to turn as make a run for it! If she could just get to her weapons, she could--

The butt of his gun ended her trail of thought mid flight, when it crashed swiftly and powerfully into the back of her skull. She was conscious for the few seconds it took her to crash into the floor... and then she blacked out completely. Pizza man set about gathering her up and out of the way, as his very well armed companions swarmed into the apartment from around the corner.

Vicente was busy securing his bed room. Like hell was he going to let that little spidery pest get in here and keep him from his warm bed for the night. He still remembered the last time, when he had been drugged and needed her aide to get here, and she had attempted to take over the bedroom herself. The night ended with her spider-webbing all of his stuff to the ceiling of the apartment. It took effort, sweat, and money to get everything cleaned up after that.

He sure as hell learned from that mistake. After making sure that his room was secure, the assassin turned, trying to steel himself up to face her again. She was like an irritating splinter: no matter what she always found a way to get under his skin. But he really just did not have the drive to end her life right now. It just wasn’t worth it.

So, he would humor her, let her stay the night then see where things were in the morning. She still owed him money and, even if she didn’t have the funds, there were other ways that she could pay him back. Her powers had proven to be of use time and again maybe he could somehow exploit that?

He grumbled in thought as he turned towards his door the second he heard the door to the bathroom close. Apparently her royal highness was done with her shower. He grumbled as he walked over to his own door to follow out and meet her. But just as he reached the door knob, he heard the sounds of knocking. Who the hell would be knocking on his door at this time of nig--

>> "Rafael? You order a piz--" [/color]

SMASH!

His door was kicked open. Teeth bared, Vicente reached into his bookshelf and pulled out a hidden Desert Eagle .50 that he had stashed away for emergencies. Fully loaded, Vicente disarmed the safety and charged out into the hallway. Gun in hand he looked over to see that Megan was sprawled out, barely covered by a towel, and unconscious on the ground. Eyes narrowed he charged forward as he watched a large man with a red and white hate haul her up into his arms.

Vicente raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. Two shots rang out. One barely grazed the man’s head but the other found the soft and squish flesh of a man’s shoulder. The large man hissed and growled as he pulled the unconscious Megan out of sight. His spot was soon replaced by three more men who leaned out into the hallway, guns of their own raised and opened fire. Vicente felt the air whizz by his face as pulled back behind a hall table. He barely caught sight of it but it seemed too large to be a bullet? What the hell were they firing at him?

Theenk!

Vicente hissed and pulled his leg back from out in the opening and glanced down. There was a syringe…or something sticking out of his leg. He growled as he pulled it and out glared at needlepoint that stuck out from one end: tranq darts. This was already not looking good because apparently whatever was in it was pretty fast working. His head was already getting fuzzy.

“Damn it!” he growled as he threw the dart aside. He was not going to let these men, whoever they were, just charge into his house! He’d kill them all before the effects fully took in! Up on his feet the man ran forward and squeezed the trigger of his gun over and over and over again. The men ducked and tried to hide away but still managed to find enough windows of opportunity to lean out and fire more at him.

Theenk!! Theenk!! Theenk!![/b]

Vicente hissed as he felt more darts bury themselves into his body. A glance down and he saw at least three more embedded into his stomach and chest. Shaky and vision blurred, Vicente soon went down, collapsing into a heap on the ground. The last thing he heard as darkness enveloped his eyes was orders to carry Vicente down to van and tie him up tight; the same treatment for the call girl in the towel.

Damn…you…Megan… he thought fiercely before he finally passed out…

The two unconscious mutants were swiftly taken deeper within the city. The van pulled into a small complex, automatic gates closed behind it and it drove up into a short driveway as a garage door opened. A few men filed out of the building to loiter out in front of the house and keep an eye on the street, while the van vanished inside. Once the garage door was closed again, all of the occupants inside hopped out. One threw open the side door and collected the woman who had been in the apartment. She was tossed over a shoulder and carried off inside, while the others grouped together to gather up the tranqed Assassin.

The compound was small enough and plain enough, Although a little tall, that it didn't attract attention from the outside. It looked as if a paranoid rich man had hunkered down in a rural part of the city. Unbeknownst to the various neighbors that lined the street on either side, the house wasn't all it appeared to be. Inside, the bottom three floors were lavish and posh. Only the finest things had been bought to decorate each room. The next three floors were made up of military style bunkers. Each room had two beds, and each floor had a communal bathroom. The last floor was by far the most sinister. Every wall had been reinforced with sound proof materials. It was designed to be closed off from the other floors below, and locked from the outside.

Those that entered were either there to be tortured, or the torturer himself.

A solitary staircase was the only way to reach it and once you were past the solid six inch door, you were locked inside until the boss (whoever that was) said otherwise. Three rooms ran the span of the entire upper floor, two connected to each other by a bullet proof window and another solid metal door. They were filled with various implements of pain, as well as as solitary table and a single chair in each. The last room was there for secrecy and shelter from the windowed rooms. Inside the walls were lined with monitors and a com system that would let the viewer harass prisoners. A balcony with glass doors sat at the rear of the room, and was the only way to get outside from the top floor.

Once the man carrying Megan reached the last floor, with those carrying the assassin right behind, she was tossed into one of those windowed rooms. The group moving the much larger man tossed him in the other, and set about restraining his unconscious a@$ into a chair... one that was very similar to the kind often used to electrocute death row inmates.

From within her room, Megan started to come to a little as someone was jostling her. Her eyes fluttered open as a foot pressed down on the back of her neck and her arms were yanked roughly behind her back. Before she could fling a curse or try to figure out what was going on, the pressure was gone... She heard the solid thunk of a heavy door swing shut from somewhere behind her, and wiggled around to see that she had been left in her room alone.

... She was also nicely trussed up like a pig... and her towel was falling off. Anger was the first emotion on the scene. Before the full severity of the situation hit her, she could hear herself mumbling curses and got to wiggling herself into a sitting position. "Oh... For F%$@sake, what now?" As if she had done it a million times before, she arched her back and slipped her bound hands under her butt and around her legs... It was only until they were before her that she noticed she had steel cuffs slapped onto her wrists. More anger bubbled up, as well as a touch of fear and morbid curiosity. Where was she? What the hell was going on...?

....Why was Rafael in the room next to her, with men surrounding him? The door to her room swung open again, and she set about covering her shame with a swift knot in the top of her towel... Two men sauntered in, and the door was shut behind them. She heard locks click into place... "...Who the F%$# are you jerkoffs?" They said nothing... simply watched her.. like they were waiting for something.

Vicente had no sense of what was happening to him. All that he knew was that after the darkness had taken over, he was not going to like where he was going to wake up. And he could not be more right. Wayne’s people had found this little gem of a place and managed to purchase it from the previous owner. For about two or three years now it worked as both a safe house for their members, as well as exactly what it was designed to do…interrogate. This part of the facility had not been used in the last few months (especially after Wayne’s death) but it was definitely going to be used now.

With effort the goons had managed carry the much larger, much more muscular Vicente up the flight of stairs until their reached their designated floor. The leader waved to carry the girl away and lock her in an adjacent room while the rest all struggled to carry Vicente. But, with effort, they managed it and dragged the man into the room that shared the glass wall with the unnamed woman’s.

Then, there was more struggling as they flopped the old assassin onto a chair and positioned him in just the right way so that he could be firmly lashed down. But, in the end they managed it off the very sweat of their brows. That was when one of the men, the smallest and thinnest, slapped the unconscious Vicente has hard as he could. Guess that is what the assassin gets for being so hard to move!

A shared sigh and all the men glanced at each other. The largest winced and moved off to one of the other rooms get his should checked out from when Vicente had shot him. While he was gone, they decided that they would get everything started. Torture implements, shiny and new, were pulled over as they sat atop a long, metal tray. A pair of men grinned as they eyed the implements before they began to roll up their sleeves. It was obvious that these two had quite the sadistic nature.

In silence they began to set up the more important tool of their little game tonight…the blender…

While they worked, the last two left and locked the door behind them before they moved over to the other girl’s room. Once she had been secured, both men, one tall and lithe and the other short but very muscular, returned to her room and closed the door behind them. In silence they grinned as they stared down at her, watching her squirm around and trying to hide whatever shame she had left.

It obvious was not working…

>> "...Who the F%$# are you jerkoffs?"[/color]

At first they said nothing. They mere watched her before glancing off into the next room. The sadistic twins (and they were twins, only one had gelled back hair and the other had a shaved head) had set up large, high powered blender so that it sat on a table all by itself. Next to it was place two clear plastic boxes: one containing a rat, and the other a bat. It was then, before Megan’s very eyes (as she could see through the wall) one of the twins began a most sadistic and cruel surgery.

Through the red all one could see was two leathery wings and the head of a vermin being tossed into the swiftly moving, whirling blades. The scent alone must have been disgusting…but Vicente did not once move.

The two men in Megan’s room sneered as they turned to face the girl.

“He likes his hookers rough looking, don’t he Bones?” the thin man said.

Bones, the muscular man, narrowed his eyes but still grinned as he eyed Megan. “I wouldn’t be surprise, Teddy,” he scoffed. “But she ain’t no hooker; doesn’t look like she has the experience.” He stepped forward, confident in the girl being bound, and slowly knelt down in front of her so that they could see eye to eye. “So that leads me to believe that she is…something else to him.” He grinned as he touched the woman’s chin and forcefully lifted up her face so that she was looking at him directly.

Out of the corner of their eyes, they could see one of the sadistic twins pouring the disgusting red and pink contents of the blender into glass, while the other grabbed a funnel and tube from a nearby table. Both descended upon Vicente.

Once Bones had her full attention, he smiled and actually handsome smile…then he slapped her…hard. Still though, as he knelt, he held her chin tightly to keep her from turning away.

“What do you know of that man?” he asked her, as if he were her closest friend in the world. “And please…don’t lie to me. Otherwise those two will have you next and that blender is their new, favorite toy.”

>>“I wouldn’t be surprise, Teddy, But she ain’t no hooker; doesn’t look like she has the experience. So that leads me to believe that she is…something else to him.”

Oh great, and now she was back to being a floozy? A glance down at her current wardrobe and yes, she could see how someone could come to that conclusion. Unfortunately, she wasn't given any time to argue. The guy grabbed her chin, fingers pinching in a little bit harder that what was necessary. She winced inwardly at having someone touch her in such a manner, especially some strange man and set to work pushing a little bit of her energy into a batch of spiders. It would take a while.. and in the meantime she was forced to stare at him.

It didn't last long though... His smile told her volumes about the time act he was trying to pull. Ooh, look'it me, I'm the nice fella who's going to save you from harm! Unless you anger me, then I'll be the bad guy. Arr, rawr! Harumph! His hand dropped for a moment, enough time for her to smirk smugly at him, before he smacked her across the cheek so hard her ears were ringing.

Ow... Maybe he was a mind reader?

That... sure had stung. His grip returned to her chin once more, squeezing harder than before. She blinked, a few tears escaping from the side she had been slapped on. She stared him down, refusing to let any of the worry or fear biting at her deep inside show on her face. Instead, she relaxed her expression into a blank mask.

>>“What do you know of that man? And please…don’t lie to me. Otherwise those two will have you next and that blender is their new, favorite toy.”

She watched him for a few more quiet moments, before a grin of her own curled her lips. "Well... since you asked so nicely and all... I'm, like, totally his BFF. We hang out and give each other manicures, and braid each others hair, and gossip about all of the boys.. You know, regular BFF stu--" Bones' smile widened slightly, and he ended her string of commentary with another heavy smack. It was hard enough that she tipped sideways a little, he corrected her though, by latching onto a fist full of her hair and pulling her back upright.

She responded with a gasp, and immediately after a bark of laughter. "Nuuu, stooop! You'll ruin extensions, you monster~!" She giggled, and attempted to worm her way away from him. The man's smile twitched as he yanked her back by her hair and sighed.

"Let's try this again...." He murmured, forcefully tilting her head so he could lean in close to her ear. "I don't like to play games... So, answer my question, and you may just walk away from with with all of your body parts intact."

Pssh, Rafael already beat you to that threat, buddy.

Megan stilled, though, and the smile dropped from her face. She searched his eyes thoughtfully for a moment, as if taking him absolute serious now, before glancing over into the next room where the twins had mixed up their vile concoction. After a moment she dropped her gaze to the floor, mock guilt written all over her face ,and eyebrows furrowed together.

The silence in the room was tense, not only from her buried anger and the tension between all of her captors. She gulped, wriggled on the spot under the pressure, before looking back up at the man in front of her. In a flat second, she sucked in a little breath and spat a medium sized ball of sticky silk and spit directly into his face. It splattered across the bridge of his nose, stuck to an eyebrow and his cheek. He dropped his hand from her hair and reeled back, getting back to his feet with surprising speed and tugging the sticky glob from his face.

Megan grinned from her spot on the floor, chuckling to herself, and felt immediately satisfied... and terrified, and angry. She felt a lot of things, really, but satisfaction was at the top for the moment. "Sorry... I don't respond well to orders, boys." She knew that she should really keep her mouth shut... but a similar sensation to when she went out hunting with Allison was washing over her. The prospect of pain... the idea that she would be able to inflict harm upon someone, was overtaking her better judgement again. Her heart was beating so fast it felt like it was fluttering in her chest... her limbs tingled. Her eyes darted around her room swiftly, accounting for any weapon like items within an arms length or two, and her grin widened just a little bit more.

It felt like she was losing control again, and it was marvelous...