Oso

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

<Snipped quote by Oso>

Lol will you answer the call?

Just a heads up though, we're starting tomorrow.

@King Kindred

I'm definitely heavily considering it :D

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

You don't understand how loudly this is calling to me lol.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

---

Bastion

Race: Warforged
Class: Guardian
Location: Airship – Top Deck
Mentions: Phia @princess, Minerva @FunnyGuy, Menzai @samreaper, Arya @Potter
Equipment:

equipment

☼ Tower Shield
☼ Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
☼ Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.
☼ Aged Leather Satchel
☼ Worn but cherished scarf
☼ Maintenance Kit .
☼ Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).
☼ A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.
☼ A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.

Attire:
☼ Etched and weathered plating with bronze accents.
☼ Fitted harness for carrying supplies.
☼ Worn scarf
Gold Balance: 52 gold
Injuries:
☼ Left shoulder was injured in the battle and is still leaking fluid.

---

I should sever the Orc’s jugular vein first.

Bastion’s optics narrowed as he analyzed the largest of three pirate threats.

This would cause catastrophic blood loss. The others would be forced to apply immediate pressure.

With a slight tilt of his head, Bastion’s eyes shifted to the woman. She might be the smallest among them, but he could see the ferocity in the way she carried herself… and as someone who had served with a handful of Gnomish saboteurs during the Last War, he knew damn well that even small things can pack one hell of a punch. Briefly, a memory replayed in his mind, of an elderly Gnome bringing an entire Thranish Cathedral down on the enemy with one of his fancy explosives. Was it a war crime? Yes. Was it an effective war crime? Absolutely.

His focus returned to the female pirate.

She should be next. Only because she’s the mystery among them. The Orc deals in brute force. The man called Beckett has his pistols. This woman…she’s given no indication of what she’s capable of. Better to neutralize her first, that way we don’t even have to find out.

Decapitation would suffice.

Finally, Bastion turns his gaze towards Beckett. The man was obviously a showman, but he wouldn’t let the man’s braggadocious nature cause him underestimate his threat level. He understood that the others followed Beckett's lead for a reason, and regardless of whether or not that reason had anything to do with his combat prowess…it would be wise to keep his status as their leader in mind.

If I remove his hands, he will not be able to operate his firearms. This is ideal.

His thought process was interrupted when Arya stepped up next to Phia, Minerva, and himself. He looked down to offer her a gentle smile, and did the same for Stella. Just like Phia had done for him. As everyone around him spoke, he took it all in. Some of it made perfect sense. Other bits…confused him.

Phia had urged the pirates to not hurt the captain any further. Bastion agreed with this sentiment. Menzai had attempted to add a bit of haste to the situation, insinuating that other pirates could have seen the ship plummeting from above and be coming to investigate. This seemed to frustrate Minerva, who afterwards asked the pirates to disregard Menzai’s words for her own.

Apparently the warrior wolf belonged to the other Shifter. Was he some kind of…pet?

Organic beings always proved to be stranger even than Bastion previously thought possible.

I have so much left to learn. He thought, his head tilting to one side like that of a confused puppy dog. Maybe if these people don’t suffer deaths more terrible and painful than any of them could imagine…as the data suggests they will…I may actually begin to learn how to understand them.

Something akin to sadness welled up inside of him at the thought. Montages of a hundred ways each of them could die flashed through his mind in an instant. Looking around the strange group, he felt some sense of connection to them all. Perhaps it was a situational bond given all they had already been through and how they are stranded together, or maybe the strange arcane fragments that had oddly been implanted into each of them was intensifying the feeling… it didn’t matter. All he could think of is that he hoped he could help them avoid such fates.

Maybe I won’t fail this time.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Location: • The Undeground Time: • Night

---

Vex’s mouth curled, not quite a smile but more like a dare. The water stayed where it was, her fingers resting on the rim but not lifting it. She let the bass thrum through her, let the neon soak her skin.

“Cute?” she echoed, voice low, thick with the kind of laughter that didn’t reach her eyes. “Dom, if I wanted cute, I’d wear a bow in my hair and wait for you to tell me when to cross the street.”

She took the water then, but only because she wanted to, dragging a slow sip before setting it down again. The smear of blood on her knuckles caught her eye, and she rubbed it idly against her skirt like it was nothing.

Her gaze slid up to him, lazy but sharp, catching the way he was still scanning the room. “If you’re going to play bodyguard,” she said, leaning in close enough for her words to brush his ear, “at least admit you like it.”

For a heartbeat, she didn’t look away, letting the noise and the heat and the smell of him wrap tight around the moment. Then she tipped her head, almost sweet.

“And as for what I’m proving…” Her smirk deepened, wicked at the edges. “Guess you’ll have to keep watching.”

Her hand moved to her lips, popping a colorful little pill into her mouth before swallowing. “ Thanks for the water, really helps wash things down.” She reached once again for the glass, chasing the pill with a sip.

He watched the pill go down, watched her throat work, watched the light change in her eyes. He did not snatch her or yell at her…he just caught her chin with two fingers and turned her face into the neon, thumb settling on the pulse at her neck so he could count it slow. He pulled the cigarette from her lips and brought it to his own mouth as he took a drag. As he exhaled, he grabbed the water and brought the cold rim of the glass to her mouth.

“Look at me…” he said, quiet but heavy, “Eyes here.” Clouded by the drugs, her gaze drifted to his eyes as she stumbled slightly against the bar.

He tipped the glass, watched one swallow, then another, then he set it back in her hand and did not let go until he felt her grip it right. He crowded her space a little, not touching anything but the back of her knuckles…his voice close enough to vibrate through her.

“You want to make dumb choices, that’s your business…” He murmured, “but you put one more pill in your mouth and I am carrying you out of here, and I will not set you down until you are home…” he said, not angry, just certain…“I am not asking, Vex.”

He leaned in again, mouth near her ear, breath warm with smoke and whiskey.

“Logan’s dead…” The words came out cold. “This isn’t the time for your games and your self-destruction.”

Pulling back, Vex looked at him with her large, bright eyes. He was an alpha through and through. The room continued to spin around them, but her eyes stayed heavily focused on Dom’s, as if his gaze grounded her.

Eyes still locked, she stole back her cigarette from his lips, her gaze unbreaking as she tilted her head ever so slightly as she dragged in her breath. The cherry of her cigarette was illuminating its bright red hue before dying slowly. She couldn’t hold his gaze long; the drugs in her system couldn’t make the pain she felt from those two simple words. Her head dropped as she stared down at her cigarette, watching the smoke twist and coil out of the amber.

Logan…

Her head hung near his chest as if shielding this private moment for her from the rest of the world. In that moment, her chest tightened so fast it stole her breath, grief rising like a tide she couldn’t push back. The only way to keep it from drowning her was to turn it into rage. Her fist hit his chest, knowing it would do little to him.

“You don’t get to throw that at me like it’s just another piece of bad news, Dom.” Her voice cut sharply, a blade to hide the shaking underneath. Her golden eyes flicked up to look at him.

“You think this is about games? This—” she jabbed the cigarette between them, ash scattering like sparks, “—is how I keep breathing when the world won’t stop taking from me. It’s survival.”

She staggered slightly, the drugs pulling at her balance, but before he could steady her she stepped in again, chest brushing his. Her chin tipped up, defiant, though her eyes shone too bright.

“I’m not leaving,” she ground out, each word shaking. “Not until I can’t remember my fucking name… not until I’m empty enough that I don’t see his face every time I blink.” The sound of a glass clinking beside her, the tall amber ale she had purchased earlier finally arrived, much to the bartender's ignorance. She looked over at the drink, reaching for it while the other put her cigarette back between her lips as it hung lazily between them. Holding the drink up to Dom, she didn’t need to say a word. Both their eyes said plenty as they looked at each other.

He let her hit his chest, listened to each and every word with respect, but he didn’t move an inch. His eyes stayed on hers, steady, constant.

“I didn’t want to tell you like this.” His voice came low, gravel running rough. “I tried to do it right, but you ignored me. So here it is, plain…we’ve lost too many of ours already. I’m not gonna stand here and watch you throw yourself in a grave right next to them.”
He leaned in, chin dipped, jaw set like stone.

“I get it, Vex. That hole in your chest…the kind that never fills no matter what you pour in it. I know what it is to want the noise, the fire, anything to drown it out. But I can’t let you be your own worst enemy. Not here. Not now.”

He shifted, eyes softening, his thumb brushing over her bloodied knuckles again, rough but careful.

“You might not wear my kutte, but I need you…The pack needs you. I need your head sharp. You drowning in this shit isn’t gonna help any of us…least of all you, Vex. You understand me?” Pinching her two fingers against the stem of her cigarette, she inhaled, looked at him, before slightly turned her head and exhaled the smoke slowly.

His gaze was still on her, but the softness didn’t last long.

“We are being hunted. This is not the time to pop pills and give the fuck up. We don’t have that luxury.”
Finally, his gaze fell from her eyes to her mouth, a subtle thing…one that almost carried a kind of shame. But those eyes rose once more, and they held more conviction than ever.

“I’m not asking, Vex.”

Dom had always been the one wolf she had respected outside of Bear. Everything he did for his pack and everything he had done for her created an understanding. Considering his words, the distance between them grew practically non-existent.

She looked up into his eyes with her golden stare. ” You are not my Alpha.” she said coldly. Vex pulled her cigarette back to her lips, pulling back another breath of smoke. Her eyes darkened slightly with a deep amber, but it didn’t last long and seemed to soften.

” One night…Give me one night, Dom. I need this. You do whatever it is you do, watch me, dance with me, or drag my ass home. Just give me the night and I will help in memory of Logan … and” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, one that only he would hear before taking a large sip of the beer still in her hand. ”...and Bear.” She managed to say.

Vex was wrong.

Just because she wasn’t a member of the Iron Wolves didn’t mean that Dominic wasn’t her Alpha. Just because she didn’t understand that little secret didn’t make it any less true. The other packs, the loners, all of them… He is the only real Alpha in Halcyon city. There are always going to be pretenders to the throne, but there is only ever going to be one king.

Her words didn’t bother Dom. In fact, he understood her claim. He wished it were true, even. But he knew otherwise. Pack or not, it was his job to look out for those with Lycan blood running through their veins, even those that would be his enemy. It was his job to take care of her. It would always be that way as long as he was breathing.

Her plea for one night was a different story. The way the names Logan and Bear sounded coming from her in that moment rattled him in ways he didn’t understand.

Dom’s gaze broke and he looked past her to the crowd beyond them lost in the music without cares in the world. He breathed in deep, then released it in kind.

“One night?” It was a statement as much as it was a question. He didn’t expect a literal answer, instead…he turned to the bartender and ordered a shot.

Dom’s eyes found hers again, still frustrated, but softer than before. “If we’re gonna dance, I’m gonna need a drink.”

“One night,” she murmured, tilting the rim of her beer glass to her lips, forcing a mischievous grin that trembled at the edges. She lifted her glass toward him as the bartender set down his shot.

“To Logan,” she toasted, voice teasing, flirtatious even—but her eyes betrayed her. Glossy and wet, they flickered with the hurt she tried so desperately to hide. The smile she wore was almost convincing, but it couldn’t quite cover the ache beneath.“He raised hell here, and now he rides free where no one can chain him. May he and Bear tear up the heavens the way they tore through this city. One day, we’ll join them… and God help whatever stands in our way.” Her voice cracked slightly.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

@ShroomNthusiast

Thank you so much for the character application! The GMs will take a look at it for approval and we'll let you know asap.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Day
Location: Sorian Park
Interactions: Violet @Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Charlotte @princess, Kira @potter, Callum @Helo, & Alexander @FunnyGuy

---

Cassius could still feel Violet’s fingers laced with his. He squeezed tighter to ground himself, and only then did he realize his own hand was shaking… The tremor would be obvious to his sister, and unbeknownst to her she was the only thing keeping him from making really really bad decisions in that moment. Especially as Callum, liquor in hand, joined Kira’s venture to torture him and they both merrily called for more coin as though the woman hadn’t left him bleeding like a stuck pig about to be butchered… as if this were all a game and Charlotte was just another piece to move across the board. He wondered if Callum was somehow in on it all, or if this was just some kind of petty retort to their…less than cordial moment at the banquet. At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter.

He could taste iron in the back of his throat, could feel the healing scars tug when he breathed too deep, and somewhere behind the mask of an auctioneer’s smile he could feel Alexander’s eyes on him, weighing him, waiting for the crack, and when the crowd roared at the “triangle date” nonsense he remembered what it felt like to be surrounded, and recalled the importance of not giving his enemies the fucking joy of seeing him panic. So, with a still trembling hand he gathered himself and became all of the things Cassius fucking Vael was known for; that undeniable grin, the lazy, unbothered posture of a man in control even as his knuckles whitened around Violet’s hand so tight there was no doubt in his mind that she would know he was struggling. He pulled himself together, at least in an outward sense… He could already hear the scolding voice of his father when all of this would be over, but the Damien coffers surely ran deep… And there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would let the opposition win.

He looked up to the stage… to her… and the look she gave him could have boiled the sea. Maybe he deserved it, maybe he would always deserve it, but the truth rose anyway and sat hot behind his smile. Even if she hates me, even if she never sees me as anything other than a villain again…I’ll do what I must.

He took in a slow, deep breath, let the panic settle in his chest, and when he spoke his voice was the perfect impression of the bastard they all painted him to be.

“How about one thousand for the lovely lady.”

For half a breath, the park went still. Then the noise broke. Gasps, murmurs, even a few scattered laughs. Purses snapped shut, men muttered curses into their hands, women leaned to whisper to each other behind lace fans. People stuttered, scrambling to repeat the number as though it might have been misheard. A thousand in Damien gold. It rippled through the crowd like a grass fire, and every eye seemed to find him at once.

Cassius did not so much as blink.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Day
Location: Sorian Park
Interactions: Violet @Tpartywithzombi
Mentions: Charlotte @princess & Kira @potter

---

Cassius almost missed it at first, lost in the moment. It could have been just another bid, just another voice.

But the moment it touched his ears, he knew.

It was her.

The sound of it pierced through the noise internal and external alike, and the rest of the world dulled. He didn’t even need to look at her. That voice had been carved into his memory years ago, and again three nights ago when she plunged that dagger into him not, not twice, but three merciless times. Rage coiled hot from within, and along came the urge to dash from his chair and unleash every ounce of vile venom that lingered inside of him.

How dare she. How dare she show her face here, out in the open, as if his blood wasn’t still drying in some gutter. Like she hadn’t tried to gut him and let him die in the street. How was she even here at all? The Kira he knew…was dead.

And then Violet’s hand found his.

Her fingers were cool, steady. No words, just that quiet weight grounding his own. For a moment his chest eased, the gesture holding his anger at bay. He looked down at her pale hand wrapped in his scarred one, and in that moment, perhaps for the first time since his mother...he felt the true meaning of family. His sister’s touch was a lifeline, but the thunder and lightning inside him continued.

His gaze then found the stage.

Charlotte.

She stood there, beneath the sun…a ball of soft nerves with a good heart, there for the sole sake of charity, yet in so much more danger than she realized. Kira’s bid processed in his mind and everything became heavier. The crowd laughed, murmured, coins clinked. None of them knew what they were watching. None of them saw the game for what it was.

But he did.

It wasn’t about Charlotte. He was almost sure of it. Kira wasn’t really here for her. This was for him. A knife-twisting reminder of just how far Kira could reach and what she was capable of.

His blood turned cold. Dread clamped down harder than even the rage.

She can’t be alone with her. He wouldn’t allow it.

His hand lifted before the thought even finished, eyes never leaving Charlotte.

“Two hundred.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

---

Bastion

Race: Warforged
Class: Guardian
Location: Airship – Top Deck
Mentions: Phia @princess, Minerva @FunnyGuy, Menzai @samreaper, Captain Cindralis
Equipment:

equipment

☼ Tower Shield
☼ Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
☼ Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.
☼ Aged Leather Satchel
☼ Worn but cherished scarf
☼ Maintenance Kit .
☼ Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).
☼ A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.
☼ A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.

Attire:
☼ Etched and weathered plating with bronze accents.
☼ Fitted harness for carrying supplies.
☼ Worn scarf
Gold Balance: 52 gold
Injuries:
☼ Left shoulder was injured in the battle and is still leaking fluid.

---

Bastion left the dragonborn with his grief and turned, following the noise, scanning the area for the ones he knew aboard this ship.

The magenta familiarity of Phia’s hair was what drew his gaze first. His eyes found others as well, in time, just as the captain began his spiel.

He found her with a bizarre woman, a shifter like Menzai…Perhaps they knew one another. Bastion did not announce himself, he simply made his way towards them, placing himself nearby.

Then the strangers came. His threat analysis was off the charts. Before he knew it, the Captain screamed...his leg snapped in front of them all. Bastion’s chest whirred, his hand ready to draw steel whenever necessary. He was injured still, many of them were…but he would not let these pirates harm anyone else.

The crystal beat in the middle of his painted sun. It seemed...alive. Bright. He felt it answer when he thought of the others. "Bear it." That was the word that formed in his processors. They bear it together now. He wondered if the others could feel it too…that subtle connection of them all beneath the surface.

Minerva raised Phia’s hand…A choice made without asking. She was volunteered to go with the pirates to meet their Prince. Bastion stepped forward without an ounce of hesitation.

“If she goes…” He said, his voice carrying louder than expected. “I go.”

He looked at Phia, letting his optics soften as his gaze settled on her. The wind pulled at him, salt and ash mixing on the air. Bastion stood resolute, quiet and solid, waiting to be told where to walk or for others to chime in, refuse, volunteer, or whatever would come next.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Time: Day
Location: Sorian Park

---

The first day was hell.

The pain. The nightmares. The memories.

“You scoundrel! You liar!”

Lottie…

"You should have never abandoned me."

Kiki…

“...you’re exactly like him.”

His blood dripped from Charlotte’s fingertips.

"Perhaps your sister can feast on your traitorous blood."

His blood dripped from the dagger in Kiki’s hand.

Charlotte’s cries as he walked away.

Kiki’s laugh as she walked away.

The laugh morphed into Lottie’s. Not the sweet one he had grown to adore, no, this one was far more malicious. His blood ran cold.

Once. Twice. Three times the dagger plunged into him.

He looked up, expecting to see the masked face of his would be assailant from the night before.

But no.

It was HER face. That beautiful face…those melancholy blue eyes. That raven hair. Those lips that had kissed him so tenderly.

It was Charlotte.

She was covered in his blood, the dagger dripping gratuitously with his very lifeforce.

She was laughing.

She was celebrating his pain. His end. She loved it.

He had hoped…wondered…if she could have loved him.

---

Day two was better. Someone progressed his healing a bit. He didn’t know who. He had simply been too out of it to know who had come in and out of the makeshift hospital room they had turned his chambers into there in the Damien estate. But he knew enough…had experienced enough wounds like this to know that the healing was, for lack of a better word…unnatural.

Though they had not healed the wounds on his face. Perhaps they had been too preoccupied on the critical injuries to worry about simple scratches. Little did they know that those three marks were more painful to him than any stab wound could ever be.

Still, he hurt like hell. His guts felt as though they would spill out from him with every movement. But Calbert made sure he was up and walking every few hours. Calbert had been…kind. The way a father was meant to be. It was a strange look on him. Cassius didn’t know what to think about it all, but it meant something to him. Even if he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

---

Day three was a different kind of hell. Cassius refused sleep, he refused the recesses of his mind; the dreams, the memories, the visions that came with it. He refused it all and he craved fresh air and hard liquor.

Calbert begged him not to leave, and Cassius meant it when he said he was sorry…but he simply couldn’t take it anymore. His father sent guards to tail him. Cassius evaded, not as easily as he usually could, but easily all the same.

The rest was a blur of alcohol induced oblivion.

---

Cassius Damien woke up in a bed full of other men and women. The room smelled of sex, sweat, and perfumes. He grabbed the wine next to the bed and had his first drink of the day. Cas could barely recall the events of the night prior but he could remember enough to know that he hadn’t partaken in the activities that they other men and women in his bed had indulged in. He recalled blaming it on the stabwounds…he recalled that those words had been a lie.

He took another drink.

After he washed and reapplied clean bandages that had been provided by the brothel’s proprietor, a beautiful woman in her 50’s named Leilianna, Cassius dressed. He very much overpaid his tab, then left as though he were in a hurry.

There was no destination in mind, he just needed the air and anything other than stillness.

Sorian park found itself graced with the presence of a, let’s be honest, worse-for-wear Cassius Damien. However, despite his slower than normal pace…every bit of that swagger remained in his steps. The charm in his muscle memory, however, did not find itself in his eyes. The three clawmark-like wounds across his face did not help his appearance, but rather it was the weight behind his eyes that truly deviated from his usual magnetism.

The weight became even heavier upon hearing a stranger's words from beyond the bend.

“From the very heart of Vermillion, Verimont's Darling—Lady Charlotte Vikena.”

His heart sank, not just into his chest but lower…so low that he felt the licks of flame from the very depths of hell itself. The cuts on his face began to sting. He turned to see her.

Cassius watched her emerge from the side of the stage. He took in the sun in her hair, her shyness, the elegance that came from years of nobility. The color in her cheeks reminded him of the timidness in her that morning at the lake. He...had seen so many sides to her now. The fire from their first meeting...Her kindness...Her levity...Her arousal...Her anger...Fear.

She curtsied, clasped her hands, and addressed the crowd in her gentle way. Beautiful couldn't do her justice.

“Good day to you all. It is an honor to stand here for such a cause, and in such lovely company.”

He fought himself to leave. He gave it everything he had, but alas, he found himself taking a seat at the back of the auction crowd. His eyes hadn’t left Lottie since they had found her.

She was covered in his blood. She was laughing.

She was celebrating his pain. His end. She loved it.

But that wasn’t true. She was right there on stage…those melancholy eyes looking so sweetly around the crowd like only she could. He begged those eyes not to find him.

Cassius felt afraid, more afraid than he ever had in warfare. He wanted to be invisible…he wanted to be safe. He wasn’t afraid of the ones who had left him for dead in the dirt only nights ago…no…he was afraid to be seen by her. But he could not for the life of him look away.

✨Beyond The Veil✨

Dominic Blackmoor

Location: • The Undeground Time: • Night

Interactions: • Vex @Tpartywithzombi

The bass was a living thing in here, crawling through floorboards and ribcages, licking at nerves until everything felt too close and too bright. Dom shouldered through the crowd at the Underground, sunglasses pushed up into rain-wet hair, cut still weeping along his brow from the cage.

He saw it happen the second it started, the hand sliding where it had no business, the little glint of plastic kissing Vex’s back pocket...It was bullshit.

Vex spun and laid him out with a clean right that sang off the man'ssull. The crowd hitched, then swallowed the moment whole but Vein Theory's song never missed a beat.

Dom did not make a scene. He let the crowd swallow Vex again, then went after the man, catching him by the wrist before he could rabbit away, turned him with a hand at the belt, and walked him three quiet steps into the service gap between the bar and the hallway. One forearm eased across the collarbones, all that weight like a wall settling. His grip on the wrist tightened until something inside it began to splinter. Fingernails lengthened against the man’s skin just enough to break it, five small crescents that welled red and trickled down.

The man sucked air through his teeth, blood still coming from the punishment he received from Vex. Dom brought his mouth close enough to be heard over the music.

“You are going to listen…” he said sternly, “and you are going to learn.”

He rolled the wrist inward and down, slowly with the kind of pressure that taught lessons better than words ever could. Cartilage clicked, a metacarpal started to go with a soft pop that got lost under the bass. The man tried to twist free and found there was nowhere to go.

“You never touch her again.” Dom murmured, eyes on the room like he was watching weather roll in, “Plain and goddamn simple.”

He felt the panic arrive. He let it sit. His other hand found the rest of the baggies in the man’s pocket and palmed them clean, then he lifted the pinned arm a hair and gave the shoulder a small sharp turn that promised worse if the fool even thought about squealing. Bones did not snap…yet, but they wanted to, and that was enough.

“You are done here.” he said, easing the forearm off the man’s chest by an inch, “Walk. Pray I let you live to see the sunrise…’cuz I could still change my mind.”

He released the wrist last. The man’s knees thought about buckling from the pain of it all. Dom propped him with two fingers, turned him toward the door, and sent him into the crowd with the tiniest push. A couple of regulars saw the look and opened a lane. The Underground ate him, but Dom tracked his scent to the door. He was gone.

Dom came over to the bar. He took Vex’s lighter from her shaking fingers without asking, turned her hand in his, and cupped the flame out of the draft. The paper caught, the cherry bloomed, the tremor in her wrist settled under his thumb because he did not let it do otherwise. He looked at her knuckles, brushed a thumb once over the split skin, then set her hand back where it was.

He slid the baggies across to the bartender with a look that gave plenty of instructions. “Water, plate of fries, mozzarella sticks…anything bread and greasy.” he said calmly, “and no more drinks for her. Nothing but water.”

He let himself be a wall at her back, not touching her, just there. The bass rolled on. Neon burned her hair blue, then pink, then red.

“You’re being stupid again…” he said, eyes still on the crowd, “Do you think this shit’s cute?”

The water hit the bar and he nudged it to her fingers.

“Drink...” he told her...“Then eat. If you want air, tell me. If you want out, I will take you home. Your call, but you're staying where I can see you.”

A couple of men drifted by, caught his glance, and remembered they had someplace else to be. Dom did not look away from the room for a long beat, then he finally let his gaze slide back to her mouth, to the smear of blood on her knuckles, then to the light in her eyes.

He leaned an elbow on the bar and lowered his voice until it belonged only to her.

“And Vex...What the hell are you trying to prove with all of this?”