[color=gray] [CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/LE0oU15.png[/img][/CENTER] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GZTjRyO.gif[/img][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [center][color=#BB253E][b]Location:[/b][/color] That same fucking warehouse in the outskirts of Gutterbane • [color=#BB253E][b]Time:[/b][/color] Evening[/center] [center][color=#BB253E][b]Interactions:[/b][/color]N/A • [color=#BB253E][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] [@FunnyGuy] Sean [@AuthenticTomb] Volfango [/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] [center][hider=Music][youtube]https://youtu.be/JVNpq6XI-cw?si=FG-4uuwmX3zgEAlJ&t=80[/youtube][/hider][/center] [center][color=black][sup]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/color][/center] Returning to the scene of a crime was stupid. Everyone knew that. Angel knew it too, and still she had come back. The scent hit her first just as it had last time: the metallic tang was there under a sharper sting of bleach. It coiled down her throat and sat there, sour and unmoving. The warehouse hadn’t changed its bones, but someone had tried to make it unrecognizable. The bodies were gone. The vats were gone. The hooks were gone. But the shape of what had happened still lingered. Thunder roared somewhere above as she zipped her hoodie. The rasp of the zipper cut through the quiet. Her sneakers echoed in the open darkness as she stepped inside, where the floor had once been slick with blood. Now it was as if someone had come and polished it clean. Fresh bolts capped rusted beams. A long crack she remembered was sealed under a crooked line of paint. Someone had tried to stitch over the wound of the place, to hide what it had been. The effort made her lip curl. Angel stood just inside the threshold as the rain began its relentless assault on the roof. Somewhere in the dark, a fan hummed, stirring only the illusion of air. The room had been rearranged so thoroughly it was almost insulting, as if grief and death could be tidied away. A single light burned in the center of the floor, illuminating a bright circle of the metal floor. Everything beyond it stayed drowned in darkness. Unmistakably, the words [i]"COME HOME"[/i] were written. And in blood, not paint. She could tell from the way it had dried, the edges tightening into that almost glassy maroon that caught light and held it. Blood always told on itself. Angel stood outside the circle and took her time staring at the words before her, but nothing about her expression revealed that she had been phased. It was as if she had known this would be here Maybe some part of her had even wanted to find it. Maybe that was why she had walked herself back into this fucking place. [color=#BB253E] "I can't yet."[/color] Lightning flashed, tearing the sky open and flooding the warehouse in white. It illuminated her still features briefly like a photograph. Her eyes caught the light and threw it back red for a heartbeat, caught like an animal in the woods. Then she turned, pivoting sharply on her heel, and stepped back into the storm. Rain passionately came at her sideways, drumming the concrete beneath her as she yanked her car door open. She dropped into the driver’s seat and slammed it shut, the noise outside snuffed. The night had been shut out a sudden hush permeating the air except for the sound of rain pattering the windows. Angel wrapped both hands around the wheel and held on until the leather complained audibly. Her right foot started tapping, beating like a metronome against the rubber mat. Streetlight smeared pale across the glass, blurred by water racing each other down. Angel found her gaze in the rearview and held it. The mirror gave her the truth without mercy: red eyes with pupils dull like coins under the flare of lightning. Wet strands of gold clung to her cheekbones and jaw. A bead of water slid from her earlobe to her collarbone and vanished under the zipper. She couldn’t decide if she looked haunted or just empty. Maybe both. [i]Maybe that was the point.[/i] Her mind slid back to the night before. The neon lights. The bass beating like a heartbeat beneath her feet. The brief warmth of Volfango’s arms around her. That fleeting illusion of feeling alive. [sub][i]It was only a matter of time until they'd find her. [/i][/sub] The last dream she had pressed in, unwelcome, curling at the edges of her thoughts. She forced it away, as her fingers moved fast, pulling her phone free. Her thumbs tapped across the screen as she found Griggs name. He answered quickly this time, but Angel wasn’t sure she liked the words that followed. With a groan, she sank back into her seat, the leather sighing beneath her weight. [/color] [hider=Her Text] [img]https://i.imgur.com/Q6aSrLr.png[/img][/hider]