[right][sub][color=cecece][i]DAY 019[/i][/color] [color=af4052]◆[/color] [color=cecece][b]C H A P T E R  O N E[/b][/color][/sub][/right][table][row][/row][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/PYIh453.jpeg[/img][color=2e2c2c]▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇[/color][/cell][cell][quote]

[color=dimgray]That chance meeting so long ago was something Alex never thought he would have to endure, facing off against someone he had to protect intrigued the man, but not enough for him to stop and have an active conversation. After all, it was life or death with Elowen Sloan, the woman was a fox, a vixen one never sated, no matter what. Even in the ruins of that destroyed city, their blades danced steel for steel as the pair faced off, no words, just blades as they glided. He did the best he could, parry-riposte and more as they clashed.

In the end, he proved himself. How could he be defeated? He was Alex Meyer! A brute in his own right, the warrior of warriors, one who would not fall to the red-haired princess who dared to challenge him. That night, these memories still played in his head even as he was being dragged to his untimely demise at the hands of the Harlot. This wasn't how it was supposed to end, at least not like this.

[color=f26522][i]"I'm Alex, you always attack new people you meet!?"[/i][/color] He exclaimed back diving back into the battle as they traded blows thrice more.

In the present, he was weak, collared like a dog. In any other situation, it might be kinky, but facing final death was nothing to smile at; the situation would be funny if he could even muster a laugh, but his body had almost given up on itself, including Buvelle. Where was that damn, spirit gone but not forgotten it seemed.

It mattered not, he walked and moved himself forward at the beat of the drum, the music that they held had an eerie ceremonial feeling and aptitude to it that sent chills down Alex's spine. The world was sick, and this was the heart of its disease, led by a woman who had lost her mind long ago for power. Now, Alex was but a toy, a beaten one in the grasp of a woman aiming for more than just the planet.

Where was Sloan? She should be here by now.

The thought always crossed his mind, like a sixth or seventh sense calling out in pain, just waiting for someone to answer it. He knew she would, they'd connect somehow and come out on top even in such a terrible state, hope never left him. Alex's steps slowed as he was dragged along by the Harlot and her chains; they kept him enslaved, and he had lost track of how long he had been down here. Days and months didn't matter, it was all about living to see her again, even if it was for one last time.

[color=f26522][i]"No.. This isn't the end - she isn't too late, you bitch."[/i][/color] He spits, a glob of what's left of his bodily fluids lands onto her boot, a symbolic sign of resistance to fascists like the Harlot. On his knees, he still won't accept defeat, maybe he could change things. Maybe Sloan would roll in and turn them all to dust, maybe Buvelle would rear his ugly head before his demise?

He made eye contact with the Harlot, for perhaps the last time before she struck him down in an uncontrolled fit of rage.

At least, he still had the memories of Elowen Sloan - his beloved companion.

That's all that truly mattered to him.
 
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