The Road Not Taken ~[ask to join/closed]~

[Delilah A. Black]

SPOILER: Click to show

OOC: DISCLAIMER

Any and all interpretations of other characters that are not my own should be considered memories or hallucinations from the mind of Delilah. If you have an issue with this, please let me know and I will fix it to meet your approval.

Love,
Gem.

Thread Theme :Viva La Gloria

Eight Months before “Fate”

The rain pattering against the roof filled the silence that passed between the two people sitting beneath it. One was a man of perhaps fifty-five of Spanish descent. He sat calmly facing the other with him, a young woman not much older than twenty with long black hair and weary blue eyes. They listened to the rain together, watching each other. The woman would appear somewhat tense while the man was relaxed, drinking tea from a clay mug.


Finally, he spoke.


”You have been a wonderful student, Delilah. You took on your training with an open mind and heart. You are studious and thoughtful and you learn very quickly. I watched you transform from what I would describe as an unstable person into a strong young woman. I can teach you nothing more.


“But that does not mean you cannot continue to learn.”

Delilah looked up at her teacher in surprise, but held her tongue. The man took a sip of his tea and licked his lips.

“There is still a darkness in your heart you must deal with. I see it as clearly as I see you now, but to you it is hidden. You must find the darkness within yourself and face it. How you deal with it will determine whether you will walk the ‘Path of the Warrior’ or the ‘Path of the Demon’.”

He sat back and let that sink in. Delilah stared at him openly, puzzled by his choice of words. What choice was there? She had always walked the Path of the Warrior!

Hadn’t she?

He smiled at her puzzled expression and nodded as if he knew her very thoughts, “You are indeed a fitting image of a warrior. You are kind-hearted and just, compassionate and honest, loyal and brave…but that is not all that you are. The heart of a good person not a simple one. You must become aware of the evil that lurks inside all people and come to know its voice. Listen to it. And then the paths will become clear to you.”

That sounded very vague and abstract, even to Delilah who was used to her teacher talking in riddles by this point. Nonetheless, the sense that he was ‘right’ was growing within her. “ What must I do, Sensei?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“First, you will wait to do this until the time is right. You will wait until you falter in every foot step, second guess every judgment you make. You will wait until you are no longer certain of who you are. You will wait until you have forgotten ‘why’.

“Then, you must go to a private place to meditate. It should be quiet, preferably outdoors. No one should disturb you during this time. You will meditate there on yourself. Recede into your mind and let your subconscious show you the things that have lead you down your path to the fork in the road. You may be there for a few days, depending on the depth of your meditation.”

He offered her another smile, reached across the table and put his hand over hers, “When you have done this and your path becomes clear, you will understand.”

“What will I understand?”

He smiled at her again, squeezing her hand affectionately. He said nothing.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Two weeks after “Fate”

It was hopeless.

Delilah lay on her bed in the Crow’s Nest, staring vacantly up at the concrete ceiling above her. There was turmoil in her soul again, something she hadn’t felt since she was a teenager. She felt tense and angry, sad, confused. The night seemed to envelope her, crushing the air out of her lungs. All the stretching and push-ups in the world hadn’t been able to quell her growing sense of dread and unease. She could not place why she felt this way for the life of her, and thus, she lay awake for the second night in a row, staring at nothing. Sleep would not come for her.

When the bombs fell, she had reacted easily, instinctively. Nothing held her back from getting her and her son to the safety of the Crow’s base. Now…she wasn’t sure what it was, but she was far less sure of herself after that day. Like everything needed to be reevaluated. She wasn’t even sure of what she was doing anymore. She burned dinner twice in the same night, gave herself a nasty set of bruises after she tripped and had to roll over a fallen concrete pillar. This was unlike her in every way. What was she thinking? What was she doing? Letting out an exasperated breath, Delilah closed her eyes and tried for sleep again to no avail.

Maybe you should try meditating?

She was about to dismiss the idea before the memory of her Sensei came to mind. She sat up quickly, eyes wide as she realized that she had forgotten the “why” (what that was exactly, she didn’t quite know, only that she had forgotten).

She got dressed quickly and made her way to her living room. She felt around in the darkness for a while until she found a small tea-light sitting on the shelf beside a book of matched above what passed for her couch. Lighting the candle, she found a piece of paper and pen and began to write.

I am going away for a couple of days. To meditate. I’m pretty sure that sounds stupid, but I’ll be of no use to anyone if I don’t do this.

I’m going about three miles North up the beach. If I’m not back in four days, come find me. If you come before then, please do not disturb me unless something critical happens or is about to happen.

If I don’t live through this, I hereby leave Oliver in the charge of his godfather - Jonathan “Unfettered” Winters - and to whomever he deems fit to raise my son with him. Sorry to be cryptic. I’m sure I’ll be fine, I just want my bases covered.

I love you all.

-Delilah A. Black

She wrote this out five more times and then tore the paper in six then folded them in half. Leaving them on the table, she quietly went to Oliver’s room and watched her son sleep for the remainder of the night.

The next morning, she took Oliver over to Marina’s quarters. She kissed her son goodbye, hugged her friend, and handed her a note. Once she was sure her son would be safe, she continued to walk around teh rest of the 'Nest, slipping notes under the doors of where “Green”, Tai, Dora and “Teal” lived respectively. They deserved to know, too.

Finally, she came to “Unfettered’s” door. The note she would give him was no different from the others, though this one would have fresh tear stains on it, a sign of Delilah’s internal instability. After sliding the note under his door, she would turn and walk out of the Crows’ compound towards the beach with nothing but the clothes on her back. Once she hit the sand, she would take off her boots, tie the laces together and hang them over her shoulder, picking her way slowly across the debris strewn sand in bare feet.


By mid-afternoon, Delilah had found an appropriate spot on a dune above the tide line. There was even a small, run-down shack set up on that lonely perch, gazing out at the sea. Satisfied but wary of her find, she staked it out for a couple of hours. When she was certain the shack had no inhabitants to speak of, she went inside.

The shack smelled strongly of the sea and the wood was clearly on its way to rotting. Sunlight peeled through the cracks in the wood and danced off the particles of dust that were thrown in the air when she opened the door. The sets of shelves within that were completely empty, likely having been looted in the recent weeks. Only some rope, a tattered tarp, and a rake remained.

Delilah took the tarp outside and shook it out violently. When she deemed it clean enough, she brought it back in with her, folded it and laid it out just in front of the door. Satisfied with her work, she went back outside, stripped naked, unclipped her hair, and ran into the ocean, her feet kicking up plumes of sand in her wake.

She frolicked in the ocean for a few minutes, diving into the water and falling backwards into the crashing waves. Once she felt cleansed, she pulled herself out of the water and back on the beach, scooping up her clothes as she walked towards the shack. Once she had dressed, she sat on the shelf of sand just outside the shack door, letting the sun dry her off. She stayed out there, watched the wonderful sunset, and went back into the shack when all that remained of the day were faint light blue lines on the horizon.

Kneeling on the tarp as the final light left the sky, Delilah closed her eyes and looked into herself. This was definitely not her preferred meditation method, but there was really no other way. Deeper and deeper she sank her consciousness into her mind, passing through depths she had never knew existed within herself. It was almost like falling into a dream, but more vivid and lucid. She could almost feel the fabric of her mind as she passed through it, the layers, the safeguards she had in place.

And then, as the night reached its zenith, Delilah opened her eyes.


Interlude one


Well, this is new.[/i]she said as she looked around at her surroundings. The inside of her mind was not unlike the interior of an Eighteenth-century library, she noted. shelves on either side of her were so tall that they disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling somewhere far above her. Candles of varying sizes were lit upon every surface, pitching the shadows cast by the mismatched books in sharp relief.

Normally she envisioned a stream when she meditated inwardly. And normally, she wasn’t dressed in Victorian-era ball gowns, complete with corset, petticoats and silk gloves. She twirled and watched the skirt of the black and gold dress float around her, amused. She never wore dresses under any circumstances and she certainly didn't own any. Was she wearing high-heels? She couldn’t walk in those things for the life of her in the real world! Definetly not in California anymore…

Taking a cursory glance over the mahogany bookshelves, Delilah notied great literary works of fiction and non-fiction that she had read over the course of her life, all the way from "Dr. Seuss" to "Miyamoto Musashi". These were all books she loved very much, but none of them pulled at her, begged her to read them.

Do you know what you're looking for?

No, but I expect I'll know it when I see it.

Walking slowly, she began wandering this library for a while, letting her feet carry her easily through the maze of bookshelves as she looked around. When it felt like she had been walking for hours, Delilah found it.

A grand oak table was sitting in the middle of a cleared space, surrounded by four shelves. At the head of the table was a large, dark velvet wing-backed chair, while benches lined the length of the table. This table had roughly three dozen books strewn all over it. Delilah moved over to it with caution, looking around furtively and sat on one of the benches. She looked around herself at the walls of books all around her, then down at the table.

In front of her was a small book without a title on its cover. In fact, upon further inspection, none of the books on the table had any titles or authors to speak of. Shaking slightly, she picked up this one and cracked the cover.

Light poured out of the book and she could hear the general murmurings of a large group of people within. Slowly, she opened the book all the way and the scene within the book filled her vision.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

"ALL RISE!" cried the bailiff.

As one, the occupants of the court room rose to their feet. As she did so, Delilah looked over her shoulder at those sitting in the benches behind her. There were quite a few. More than she had expected. Suspicion gnawed away at her mind and she scowled, facing forward just as the elderly man wearing black robes strode into the room and took his seat while the bailiff continued to speak.

“The Superior Court of the State of California, San Francisco County, Department 421, Honorable Judge Alfred Hintersworth presiding, is now in session.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, “You may be seated and come to order.”

I’ll give you order, you come-gurgling sonuvabitch… Delilah thought viciously as she sat back down, fighting to keep the sneer from her face.

“Don’t worry,” whispered her attorney as the Judge shuffled his papers. “They’ve got nothing. You’re gonna walk out of here in a few weeks after the main trial. Remember, this is just a preliminary thing.”

I wouldn’t be so sure of that. she sighed inwardly. The churning in her stomach hadn’t gone away since she had been arrested.

The next half hour proceeded smoothly enough. She was sworn in by the gleeful bailiff and the State appointed prosecutor made his case to the judge. Delilah stole glances at her attorney whenever she could and noticed he was getting more and more confident. She understood why, really: the evidence being given was nowhere near concrete enough to convict her. Her legal team could talk her way out of this easily. The best offense the State had was “gang activity” for a probable cause. That was nothing for the young CEO of a prominent marketing company. If she said she wasn’t guilty, no one would really suspect her.

“The court has determined that there is probable cause for the crimes committed by the Defendant,” intoned the judge. “Delilah Adele Black, you stand accused of breaking and entering—“

Oh yeah, that. I forgot my fuse hookup in my locker.--

“-- vandalizing and destruction of government property,--“

--It was not my intention to destroy the marina! There were no boats at those docks at the time anyway--

“—possession of illegal substances,—“

--I never used those, I stole them for blackmailing purposes--

“—smuggling,--“

—those explosives were homemade, not smuggled--

“—and human trafficking.” The judge peered at her over his rimless glasses, frowning. “How do you plead?”

It was that last statement that gave her pause. All of the charges laid against her had all stemed from helping “Unfettered” bring students back from PHS #42 to #259 after it was rebuilt. Granted, they had been on boats and heading up the coast back to Long Beach whilst being chased by the coast guard...but human trafficking was a pretty serious offense. When they came ashore, the students she had dragged with her back to #259 had gotten away shortly before the police arrived. Delilah hadn’t.

For a moment, she was actually thankful Stu was far away in England, where none of this could touch him.

Now she realized that if she proceeded with her original intention of pleading “not-guilty” she could be putting all of those people in danger. She might get off, yes, but those people she had risked life and limb to ship back to Long Beach? What about her gang leader and close friend, “Unfettered”? What would become of him if she continued with this? Was that why there were so many people in this courtroom? How many were here to witness the downfall of Militia? Of 259?

She couldn’t even abide thinking about that, let alone what might happen. I will have none of it. She thought, anger rising within her. This will not come to pass. I will not play your games.

But if I don’t…

That thread of thought speared through her mind like a torpedo. Was she sure about this? Were a group of people who were, to put it simply, as much of a menace to society as they were a help worth sacrificing herself for? There was much here that she worked for: she would be throwing all of that away for the sake of a cause. No: for the sake of her friends. Her family. Her thoughts flicked rapidly from “Unfettered” to Stu to Arim and circled back around on themselves.

Would you really do any less by them? she asked herself.

And in her heart, Delilah discovered a fierce loyalty that stood out much farther than her need for self-preservation. Her resolve bolstered, Delilah straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Within, she was filled with a sense of calm acceptance; the first real instance she could remember and would remember in the years to come. In a cold, clear voice, she responded, “Guilty.”

The court room gasped in unison and her attorney fell off his chair. The judge stared blankly at her for a moment as if uncomprehending and the bailiff looked positively giddy. Delilah, on the other hand, sat perfectly still with her hands folded in front of her and her eyes dead ahead.



“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!” Her attorney cried, shooting back to his feet. The occupants of the court room were talking loudly to each other, their voices menacing and filled with disgust for the girl who sat in the defendant’s box. “DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!”

“Yes, actually, I do.” she replied shortly without deigning to turn her head to look at him. I'v just deprived you of court fee's, thats what.[/i] She thought with a small hint if vindication. The buzzing of the court room grew louder and her attorney’s face began to turn purple with rage.

“This court will come to order!” Shouted the judge, banging his gavel loudly until the court settled down. He looked back at Delilah and regarded her a moment longer, as if unsure how he should feel about her plea. He shook his head and sighed, “As you have plead guilty to all charges, you will be sentenced in two weeks time here in this court room. Until that time, you will remain in your cell at the San Francisco County jail. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Honour,” She replied firmly. There was a steel in her eyes that hadn’t been there when she had entered the court room. For you, Winters. “I understand perfectly.”[/size]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude two

The book in Delilah’s hands faded into nothingness as the memory left her. She was smiling to herself, proud of the loyalty she displayed for those she cared about. Jail had been a helluva time, but she would never regret what she did that day. She reached for a brown book near her hand when another book jumped into her hand of it's own accord.

She yelped and dropped the book with a loud ‘bang’, clutching her hand to her chest. The moment the book had touched her hand, she felt sick to her stomach, as though the book contained something revolting. As she stared at the black, titleless cover, the hairs on her neck began to lift.

No, she whispered, her voice cracking. Why this one? Why now? I’m over this! I’m OVER IT!!![/B].[/color]

She clapped a hand to her mouth, shocked by the violence of the words that tore through her voice that echoed around her. She turned away from the book, tears standing in her eyes. This had been what her sensei had told her about: The parts of her that weren’t so good and wonderful. The side of her that she feared even now.

The Demon.

Somewhere within the library, someone began to laugh, high, cold and mirthless. Suddenly afraid, Delilah turned back towards the table. She tried reaching for another and found that they danced just out of her grasp no matter how hard she tried to grab one. Resignedly, she looked back at the book with the black cover, hating it, hating herself. Unable to control her shaking, she grasped the offensive book and lifted it, her guts wrenching within her. Steeling herself, she ripped open the cover and looked within.

Though she wasn’t consciously attached to her body at the moment, Delilah groaned as some of the familiar shapes began to bloom behind her closed eyes. Tears would begin streaming down her face, unhindered by the resolve that should have held them back. But Delilah wasn’t there at the moment and nor was her resolve. She was so deep in her meditation by this point that someone could have cut her and she never would have noticed. It made sense, then, that Delilah had no idea she was crying. Perhaps that was for the better; she would be ashamed of her tears.

Soon, she began to weep openly, grieving for the person she no longer was, the Delilah who died that day because of a selfish act of control exerted upon her. The child – for that was what she had been, though she never would have admitted it – who broke under the staggering unfairness of the world; that was who she cried for.

Inside her mind, Delilah watched that piece of her soul die through her younger self’s eyes.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Every day is the same.[/i]

Delilah had only been in prison for a few days but it already felt so much longer than that. Every day, she and the other inmates would get up, go down to the mess hall for breakfast, then it was chores around the compound. Then it was lunch, then exercise time in the yard, shower, dinner, and then bed. The routine was almost unbearable at this point; being confined and controlled to such an extent weighed heavily on Delilah’s natural impulsiveness. They only had three sets of underwear, socks and clothes each and one small locker to put their extras in. They slept on two inch thick mattresses with a thin plastic covered pillow and itchy wool blankets for when it got chilly. Inmates were kept in cells of four according to who was the most violent or who had the highest threat potential. Delilah had been deemed high-risk and was placed in a high-moderate cell block with three other women.

These three were the scum of the Earth as far as Delilah was concerned. Carol had been jailed for molestation and incest against her own daughter and was serving a twenty year sentence. Joan was in for domestic abuse; she stabbed her husband after an argument over cash flow, then stalked him until he committed suicide. She probably wouldn’t be in here longer than four years. Angela, though, had been a high-class whore who had been caught with some ex-politician up in Los Angeles. She had been serving a misdemeanor charge for prostitution…until she killed her inmate for making eyes at her prision girlfriend. Now she was in for twenty-five years.

Since she had arrived, these three women had done nothing short of making life hell for her. They taunted her ceaselessly, threatened violence against her, disturbed her sleep…and there was nothing Delilah could do about it except do as she was told.

She hated to do as she was told.

She tried to stay out of their way as much as possible. They harassed her everywhere she went, deliberately went out of their way to make life miserable for her. Delilah thought this was because they wanted the mechanic down at their level, to provoke her and make her lash out. She knew she was above that. So, every night, while they whispered cruel remarks and threats to her, Delilah pretended to sleep as soon as the call for lights out went up. She ignored them as much as possible during the day time…but she was having a hard time sleeping nonetheless. She couldn’t sleep with so much malice in the room and tonight was no different.

Every day is the same.[/i]

“Hey, Angie.”

Delilah opened her eyes a crack, listening with bated breath.

“Mm?”

“You got any more smokes?”

“Nah, sugar, I’m all out.”

“Aw, MAN!” there was a brief silence. “Hey, Joanie, do you have any—“

“NO, Carol, I don’t.”

“WELL, FUCK!”

Another pause. Delilah exhaled slowly, pretending to be asleep.

“…Hey. New Girl.”

“That ain’t her name, sugar.”

“Well then, what in the blue fuck is it?”

“Oh my, I can’t seem to remember,”

“Maybe it’s ‘bitch’,”

HYUK-HYUK-HYUK-HYUK-HYUK

Here we go… Delilah sighed inwardly, still pretending to be asleep.

“Nice one, Joanie. Hey! New Girl” and then louder, “HEY BITCH!”

Footsteps came thudding down the hall towards the cell. A light shone in through the bars.

“Lights out was two hours ago ladies,” warned the guard. Delilah could practically hear the frown in her voice.

“Sorry m ‘am,” Carol giggled, “I was just tryin’ to give my new cell mate Falulah here a proper welcome. Ain’t that right, ladies?”

“Sure as shit,”

“Just tryin’ to be friendly, is all.”

“Riiiiight. I don’t wanna hear another sound from this cell tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, m’am,” They chorused.

There was a long silence as they all listened to the guards footsteps pad away. Delilah exhaled loudly, then caught herself, realizing she gave herself away.

“Well, well. Looks like Little Miss Better-Than-You is awake after all,” hissed Joanie.

“Oh really? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, dearie. I just wanted to know your name.” The poisonously sweet tone of her voice made Delilah want to gag.

“And if you got any smokes.”

Delilah sighed. “You know my name. It’s Delilah. And no, I don’t have any cigarettes. I don’t smoke.”

” ‘Lo and behold, she speaks!!!”

“That sure is a pretty name, sugar,” Angela purred.

“Ya don’t smoke, huh? Why? Is it to ‘common’ for you, rich girl? Huh?!”

Delilah said nothing, only stared into the darkness.

“Aww, lay off her, Carol. She’s just lonely, ain’tcha sugar?”

“If she’s so lonely, why don’t I lay on her then, huh?”

Delilah’s stomach hardened into a block of ice in an instant.

“Awww yeah. Falulah’s gettin’ lucky tonight.

“Thanks but no thanks. Just stay on your bunk and go to sleep.” Delilah’s tone was pleasant enough, but there was a ring of foreboding just beneath the surface.

“Awww, don’t be like that.” Delilah heard Carol jump down from her top bunk on the other side of the room and walk over to her bed. In the darkness, only her silhouette was visible. Delilah tensed as she approached, teeth bared.

“S’mighty cold tonight. You wouldn’t mind if I--[/size]WOOOOOFFF!!!”[/COLOR]

Delilah’s left fist met Carol’s stomach, forcing the air from her lungs, followed a moment later by a swift kick to her hip from the same side, rolling it in its socket, taking her balance. Her leg swung upward and collided with her jaw, clacking Carol’s teeth together. Swinging her leg downwards and using the momentum from that to pull her into a sitting position, Delilah brought her right hand up and hit Carol in the temple with the back of her fist, her left coming across for a fast jab in the same spot.

Delilah stood up as Carol dropped to the ground, out cold. She looked up at the bunk above hers at Joan and growled a warning.

“Holy SHIT--”

“GUARD! GUARD!!”
-----

Delilah was put in solitary confinement that night and remained there for another just as a precaution. She had never slept better.

-----

It was always assumed that Carol would try to get back at her when she returned from the medical ward. Delilah had expected that from the get-go. She had heard the other inmates talking about how her right eye had been so swollen they had to cut it to let out the blood, how three of her teeth had been broken. The others gave Delilah a wider berth now, something that gave her a false sense of pride for the three days that it mattered to her. She thought it was because they feared her, what she could do. This was false bravado, pure underestimation of the human soul.

They steered clear of her because they were afraid of being in the way when Carol came back.

-----

Delilah had been asleep in her bunk when they moved in. She knew that Joan had something metal with her that collided with Delilah’s head, stunning her, making her black out.

When she came too, she had a piece of her shirt shoved so far down her throat she was afraid she might swallow it. There was a searing pain in both her arms and in her left leg – the one that had hurt Carol . She would find out later that these had been superficial cuts from a poorly made shiv to keep her from squirming or fighting back. The pounding headache throbbing in her ears had been from the curb stomping they had given her when they had finished with her.

She lay there on the cold concrete, battered and bleeding, uncomprehending. Slowly, the world came back to her.

“—thought she was too good for me, huh?! Ha! Damned privilege, that’s what it is.”

For a moment, these words made no sense to Delilah, just a jumbled mess of letters floating through her ears as her inmates laughed and talked around her.

And then it clicked.

“RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!”[/B][/SIZE][/color]

The effects of Delilah’s injuries suddenly evaporated and she was on her feet, roaring at the top of her voice, consumed by rage. Joan made a move to subdue her and Delilah lashed out with an open palm, striking her dead in the chest with her full strength, sending the woman crashing into the bunk beds with a punctured lung and a permanent heart murmur.

As she whipped back around, Delilah extended her right arm, grabbing for Carol’s face. Carol pulled away just in time, but not before Delilah grabbed a hand full of her matted brown hair. With this small handhold, she reefed on the hair in her hand, pulling it like one would draw a lawnmower chord. Carol screamed as parts of her scalp tore free with her hair falling forward. Delilah brought her knee up into her face as she fell, shooting her head back. She slammed down on the back of her head with her elbow, shooting it forward again. Knee. Elbow. Knee. Elbow. Instead of a knee the fifth time, Delilah brought her leg around as she fell forward and slammed her foot down on Carol’s head, riding it down to the ground, breaking her face on the concrete. Again and again, she brought her foot down on Carol’s head until she was practically jumping on it. Her foot soon became slick with gore, though Carol had mercifully died after the second blow to her head from Delilah’s knee.

“Oh, my God, you KILLED HER! HELP! SOMEONE, HELP!!!! GUAAAAAARDS!!!”

The only thing that stopped her mashing of Carol’s brains was the high pitched screaming coming from Angela, who was pinned against the far wall of the cell near the sink. Delilah turned towards her menacingly, a predatory smile curving her lips. She started towards her, not noticing the frantic group of men and women behind her fighting to get the cell door open.

“STOP! STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU PSYCHO BITCH! HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE! HEEEL—glackkhhh!!!”[/i][/size]

Delilah lunged forward and latched onto Angela’s windpipe, digging her fingers into the frontmost part of her neck, pushing them deep, squeezing. Choking, Angela swiped at Delilah’s face with sharp nails, scratching her just below her left eye. Delilah let loose an animalistic cry of rage and yanked the hand that was choking her victim violently backwards, pulling the trachea away from the esophagus so quickly that they tore away from each other with a snap. She would require an emergency tracheotomy and would never speak again. Delilah raked her free hand across Angela’s face, leaving four long lines where her nails had torn through her skin. As Angela dropped to the floor, Delilah raised her leg to finish the job when she was tackled from behind by three guards, bashing her head on the wall, knocking her unconscious again.

-----------

Somewhere in the depths of Delilah’s being, of her soul if you like, she knew what she had done. It would be another few weeks before it all came back to her, but it would come, as all things must. Her subconscious blissfully hid that horrible act away from Delilah’s mind for as long as it could, but that same rage was always just beneath the surface of her psyche, ready to burst free and wreak havoc on whatever was around her. The blood on her hands would wash away with time, but she would always be left with the memory of what she had done, what had been done to her. A part of Delilah died that she would never get back.


She was damaged goods now. Unlovable. Unwanted. Broken.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude three

Delilah dropped the book as the memory released her, watched it fade and disappear. She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort and rocked herself back and forth slowly on the bench, sobbing. Just watching that nightmare had brought all those emotions screaming back to the forefront. The fear she still felt, the anger, the injustice, the sadness that had almost killed her and her unborn son. She buried her face in the crook of her arm as she swayed back and forth. For one of the few times in her life, Delilah wished openly that someone was there with her for no other reason than to comfort her. To hold her.

“Awww, whassamatter?” A voice crooned from beside her, freezing Delilah mid-rock.

Slowly, Delilah turned her head to look at the woman sitting in the wing-backed chair at the head of the table, leaning forwards toward Delilah as if she found the mechanic truly fascinating. Her beauty was a terrible sort, with cadaver white skin stretched over a thin, bony face. Her full luscious lips were painted ink black, pulled over neon white teeth. Her eyes were yellow and catlike, framed by long, thick fans of ebony eyelashes. Her pin straight red and black hair fell lazily around her face and about her shoulders. She wore a short black silk kimono with a long slit up the left leg and a copious amount of cleavage. Her blood coloured nails were five inches long and curved towards the ends, like a fish-hook.

“Did that scare you? Aww, I’m so sowwy! I didn’t know that big-bad-Delilah was such a sawftie!!” At this, the woman threw her head back and laughed hard in the same manner Delilah had heard earlier. A chill threaded its way up and down her spine.

Who are you? She winced at the shaking in her voice. She sounded pathetic.

The woman stopped laughing immediately, an exaggeratedly hurt expression falling over her face. “You don’t remember me? Awww, that hurts, ‘Li. It really, truly does.”[/i] The woman put one hand on her generous bosom while she flung the other across her forehead dramatically.


Delilah frowned and sat a little straighter, narrowing her eyes. Answer my question.


The woman dropped the act immediately, an ugly snarl marring her otherwise beautiful face. How dare you talk to me in such a way. she hissed, leaning forward threateningly.

I will do what I damn well please. Answer my question.Delilah replied coldly, jerking her chin up in defiance as her upper lip curled in disgust.

The two women stared intently at each other, letting the tense silence drag out between them. When it became clear the woman wasn’t going to speak, Delilah silently reached for another book.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, mm?” she purred.

Delilah’s hand froze mid grab and she exhaled slowly, determined not to give anymore away than she already had. She was still quiet afraid of this…this presence in her mind, if it could even be called that. The woman was alien and yet familiar all at once. A guest in one’s home is always expected to introduce themselves to the host. was her aloof reply.

The ugly look of pure malice and animalistic hate slipped back over the woman’s face like a shadow. “You impudent little bitch. You really have no idea who I am, do you.”[/i] The woman’s black lips suddenly curved into an cruel smile and she chuckled darkly, “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised. You never were exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.”[/i]


Though she bristled at the insult, Delilah kept silent, her look of superiority and indifference a mask for the unsettling feeling growing within her.

The woman watched her for a long moment before sighing in exasperation. “You know what else you are? No fun.”[/i] With a huff, she got to her feet and began walking around the table. “If you insist upon formalities, then I am pleased to inform you that you have been misinformed. Firstly, it is you who has intruded upon my home so ungraciously. Secondly, you have been very rude to me, your host, since your arrival. Why, you sought me out not at all! Did your mama teach you nothing, child?”[/i] The woman came to the side of the table Delilah was on and fell gracefully backwards, splaying her body out on the oak surface provocatively, her head tilted towards Delilah, a lustful smile on her face as her hands roamed her body. “Don’t assume you know everything just because this is your head, sugar.”[/i] The woman’s smile widened to a voracious grin. “You know very well who I am. And I know who you are. I know why you’re here. I know your love for your son, your longing for sexual release. How long has it been, dear? More than five years? Yes, you’re practically starved, aren’t you. You pine for the boy’s father, but you wonder if your feelings for “Unfettered” are more than platonic and you wonder how he sees you. You know you are strong, but you want more. You want power. You want everything you can’t have but you want desperately. “[/i]

The woman rolled onto her stomach and pulled herself closer to Delilah, a hungry look in her eyes.

“I can give you these things, Delilah. I can win you the German, give you the tools to protect your son. I can give you everything. I can make you so much more than what you are. And what are you, exactly? A mother? A fighter? A friend? What you are is nothing compared to what you could be.”[/i]

The woman reached out and placed an icy hand on Delilah’s cheek. “This is what you could be.”

The room suddenly began to spin violently, pitching Delilah into a whirling mass of darkness. Everything went black.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Delilah and The Woman stood in the center of a pitch black room. The mechanic couldn’t see The Woman, but she knew she was there nonetheless. Her instinct was to lash out at her unwelcome companion but she was curious in spite of herself. What sort of things could The Woman offer her? From a moment, she thought that she felt as though Oliver must when he was told not to do something and did it anyway, as though the temptation was too great to withstand.

No. Delilah shook her head snarling in disgust at herself, I am better than this. You can’t entice me.

“We’ll see about that.”

A spotlight snapped on over the centre of what Delilah now recognized as a stage. Looking around, she couldn’t see where the stage ended or when it began, but she did notice a beautiful ebony piano sitting beneath the light. She looked warily at The Woman, awaiting an explanation.

The Woman smiled coyly at her charge, shrugging in the direction of the piano, “Play for me, won’t you, dear?”[/i] she purred.

Delilah’s glare intensified at this, suspicion lining her face. She refrained from speaking, hoping The Woman would shed some light as to what was going on here.

Instead, she smiled, her bright white teeth flashing in the darkness that seemed to envelope her. “Go on now, don’t be shy. It’s not going to bite you, you know.”[/i]

Slowly, Delilah turned away from The Woman and walked over to the grand piano. It really was beautiful: it was entirely made of dark lacquered wood trimmed with burnished gold. When she lifted the cover, she discovered that the keys were real ivory and that the pedals were made of polished brass. Adjusting her Victorian style dress appropriately, Delilah settled on the red velvet cushion of the matching bench. She wavered for a moment and then touched a key.

The note resonated deeply throughout the room, echoing loudly. Bright lights and colours burst from a corner of the chamber from where she sat, the sounds of a child’s laughter bouncing back to her. Slowly, the note died away and the room returned to its original state.

Knowing very well she was perched on some sort of precipice, Delilah exhaled a trembling breath. She had never played for anyone before. She’d never even done recitals when she took the piano as a child. Music was very personal to Delilah. The reason she had started playing music to begin with was to temper her seething anger. It conveyed the many emotions she felt but could not express. Even playing here, deep within her own mind, was enough to make her insecure and nervous. What should I play?

“Play what you feel when you feel the lust pulling at your heart. Play the music of the blood falling from your hands. Play what you want.”[/i] she whispered, adding emphasis to the final word. [/size]

Beyond Good and Evil

[/size]

At The Woman’s words, a deep rage swelled within her, bubbling up through her mouth as a high pitched giggle of wicked glee. Her thoughts and her deepest desires came rushing to the surface of her consciousness, smothering her with their urgency to be satisfied, erasing her trivial concerns about playing in public. Delilah slowly raised her hands and hesitated, a small part of her unsure if this was a fire she wanted to play with. Then her fingers fell against the keys, striking a dark, fluid rhythm that resonated within her soul.

As she played, the dark stage that surrounded her transformed before her eyes. She saw Oliver as a grown man run past her, the spitting image of his father with a gun. He was covered head to toe in urban camouflage, his long white hair tied back in a loose pony tail. She saw he was laughing haughtily as he slid into a three point stance, lifted his rifle and let loose a spray of bullets at an unseen enemy. Then he rolled to the side and got back to his feet, checking rapidly left and right if there was anyone he missed. “Unfettered”, (who apparently aged gracefully, Delilah noted), dressed in much the same manner, came up behind her son and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling proudly. He said something Delilah couldn’t hear and Oliver laughed raucously. They jogged off-stage together and into the shadows.

The floor beneath her suddenly became a map that spread out farther than she could see. She saw the unhindered advance of The Crows into enemy territory, spreading out and taking the areas with ease. One of the areas zoomed in and Delilah saw herself fighting at the forefront dressed in all black, her hair unbound, dancing and weaving through the crowd of enemies, her brilliant blood-streaked katana flashing in the bright sunlight. She cut down her foes as if they were nothing, their bullets and grenades bouncing off of her Qi-hardened skin with seemingly no effect. Though she heard nothing but the song she was playing, Delilah knew that her future(?) self was laughing gaily at the bloodshed. The battle was soon decided and the people she fought with gathered around her to celebrate their victory. She rejoiced with them, letting them carry her out of Delilah’s line of sight.

Off to the right, the next scene panned out into her and “Unfettered” engaged in what could only be gently described as very rough, passionate and carnal relations. Delilah turned away from the writhing bodies, blushing profusely, suddenly very aware that it had been a long time since she had been with a man. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that fourteen or so others joined the two of them one by one until they were all thrashing about in a massive orgy. Delilah was so shocked by this – how her mind had come up with it, she would never know-- that she nearly stopped playing. She found that she was both intensely horrified and somewhat intrigued by this concept and that scared her a little too.

More images followed as the song continued to play, most involving glory in battle, ruthless and brutal killing, gratuitous sex, Oliver succeeding, and the righting of the world’s harmony. There were images of Kiyoshi becoming a King of some kind, of unifying America, of annexing Canada. And through it all, Delilah knew that it was somehow because of her that they got that far.

“And you could have this. All of it. You just have to let go of what’s holding you back. Memories. Principles. Loyalty. Leave them behind. Move forward. Kill whoever gets in your way. Fuck who you want to fuck. Give in to your desires. They will set you free.”

Finally, the song ended and the stage went dark. Delilah’s mad grin was still plastered on her face, the old anger and fear boiling within her. Behind her, The Woman smiled victoriously.

Then her face contorted into one of pure fury. She tried to shout, but Delilah would not hear her. So she seethed and waited. She would not be outdone.

She would not.

“You’re too young to be in here.”

Delilah’s whipped around to her right, suddenly finding herself sitting in “The Bitter End” beside no other than Stuart Pott.

She stared at him, open mouthed and looked around the room. The Woman was nowhere to be seen. The bar was has it had been all those years ago; the men in the medical gear playing pool behind them, the bartender pouring shots for himself and Stu, the patrons, were all the same. Delilah watched as he took a drink from his glass, setting it down. He looked at her with those black eyes of his, his shaggy green hair falling in his face.

“That said, you’re right looking, twist. What’s your william, love?”[/i]

Delilah couldn’t believe she was here again. This was almost too much. She looked down at herself; same black and gold Victorian era gown and lace gloves, one of which clutching a half-finished bourbon cocktail. She looked at Stu: he was wearing a suit, forest green with gold pinstripes running down the sides. They certainly hadn’t been dressed up the night they had met. Then she realized he had said something and she shook her head distractedly, Beg pardon?

She clamped a hand over her mouth, stunned that she had just repeated herself exactly as she had that night five years ago. Was this some sort of hallucination put together by The Woman for her own sick amusement?

For some reason, Delilah thought not.

Stu smiled casually and turned his body towards her slightly. “Twist, meaning ‘girl’ in Cockney. I’m from merry ol’ England, London town and all that chips. Sorry if the language gets a bit tough, love.

I was asking your name, twist. William is name. So, what’s your william? Mine’s Stu. Stu Pott, but call me Stu.”[/i] He extended his hand to her and gave her that roguish grin of his. Delilah laughed in spite of herself. Charming as ever, even in her own head. She gave him her own hand and shook it, smiling. She decided to play along: she had missed this more than she would ever be able to describe.

Delilah Black. Nice to meet you, Stu. She sat there looking at him while he sipped at his beer, smiling to herself. Thanks for explaining that. I’ve been to England once or twice for business, but I guess I never really got a taste of the Cockney speech. What brings you here to this fine establishment?[/i] Delilah faced forward again, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“You, Del.”[/i]

Delilah sputtered on her drink and whipped around to face him, her surprise obvious. He hadn’t said that all those years ago. This must not be a memory.

He looked back at her, a small, knowing smile on his face. Her heart began to race, heat flushing her body. He shifted in his seat and leaned towards her, his fingers gliding across her skin, tucking the strands of hair back behind her ear, trailing down her jaw and the lobe of her ear. He cradled her head in his hand there and moved forwards, his lips connecting with hers, his hand pulling her slightly towards him as he deepened the kiss, which she accepted eagerly. Tears slowly formed in her eyes as she realized that this all may as well be a dream, that none of it was real. That hurt her more than the pain from all the scars she had collected over the years. Still, she clung to what she had here, letting herself be taken in by the memory of him, his warmth, his scent.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other. Stu continued to smile while Delilah fought back tears. God, I miss you. she whispered, her heart wrenching in her chest.

“I’m right here,”[/i] he whispered back. “I actually came to see you play tonight. Iffin you don’t mind, twist.”[/i] He jerked his chin over her shoulder and she turned to look.

Where the pool table and iffy patrons had been milling about drinking, the same grand piano from before now sat upon the hardwood floor. She stared at it blankly, unwilling to move. Uncertainty had paralyzed her. She had never played for anyone before…she wasn’t even sure Stu knew she could play an instrument…it certainly hadn’t ever come up.

Chuckling, Stu leapt off his barstool and stood beside her, taking her by the hand. “Now now, what’s this? You played for that tosser earlier, didn’t ya? Just one song. Please, Del?”[/i] His black eyes glinted under the low lights of the bar as he looked at her, making them shine.

God, when he looked at her like that, it was hard to say no to anything. She let him pull her off the stool and lead her towards the piano, much to the general applause of the other patrons in the bar.

Delilah sat down on the bench and hesitated again before the keys. She looked up at Stu, smiling. Any requests from the audience? she asked, her tone more jovial than she felt.

“Play ‘Piano Man’!”

“Adele!!!”

“Rag time!”

“ANYTHING by Led Zeppelin!”

Then all the patrons and the bar itself vanished. Stu was standing just off to her left side on the stage again, his hands tucked into the pockets of his suit pants comfortably. “Play the song you sing in your heart. The one that reminds you how far you’ve come, where you’re going to end up. Play the one that you hear when you think of me, Del. Of us.

“Play the music you hear in your soul.”[/i]

Suddenly, her heart was filled to bursting with positive emotion, undefined by traditional words and their limitations. She could call it love, but that was too simple, not deep enough for what she felt. This was deeper than that, more powerful. It was faith. It was hope.

Turning back to the piano, Delilah began to play.[/size]

Life in Technicolour 1

As the music formed around her, Delilah caught glimpses of the images that The Woman had showed her from earlier and saw through their lies. She was not respected; she was feared. Oliver had grown up to be a good man under the guidance of “Unfettered”, not her. She wanted and yearned for more and more because what she desired was empty and left her hollow. She had needed more. The theoretical ‘relationship’ with “Unfettered”, the claiming of multiple territories, killing...she had needed more. It had never been enough. It never would be enough. ‘More’ was what would ruin her. If her comrades had any sense at all, they would kill her.

Those emotions that she played, hope and faith…they were where her strength lay. True freedom would not require her to give anything up. It disgusted her that she had come so close to falling into that trap.

To give up your identity for a lust of the flesh; that was not freedom. That was slavery.

Finally, the song died away at her finger tips and she swiped at her cheeks. She had been crying again. What is with me today…. She looked up at Stu as he slipped onto the bench beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, his chin resting on top of her head. Her arms twined around his body as she leaned into his touch, resting her head against his chest. Closing her eyes, she could hear his heartbeat, long since memorized and ingrained in her own mind. It surprised her how much this felt like when they had said goodbye before he lad left for England: knowing that no matter how long you hold someone for, they were still going to leave. Pained, she buried her face in his chest and shuddered.

“Honour.” he said quietly. “The word for that feeling you were looking for; it’s honour. If you ever need to be reminded of that, you know where to find me.”[/i] He leaned back from her and tilted her chin up to look at him. “I love you, Del. Always will.”[/i] He planted a gentle kiss on her lips and the memory began to fade.[/size]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude four

When Delilah opened her eyes, she found herself back in the library. She looked around; there was nothing but her, the books and the shelves they rested on. A grin passed over her face and she began to chuckle.

I have to admit, that was a cute trick, she called out to The Woman brazenly. You really had me going there for a while. I’m serious. I was this close to giving in to your offer. If the cost weren’t so high, it would have been hard to say no.[/i] She sat back comfortably on the bench and laughed. Man, even as a memory, Stu out did you. Did you really think I would give that up? Him? My family? Clearly, you’ve underestimated the people in my life. I don’t think you underestimated me, though, if that makes you feel any better. But maybe you did misjudge how important they all are to me. To go your way would have been such a slap in the face to them considering all that they’ve done for me. Given that, why did you even try? What end were you seeking from me?

Delilah listened intently for a few minutes, head cocked to the side as she smiled wryly. She heard nothing at all in the library save for the flickering of the candles. Still, she knew The Woman was there. Delilah knew now that she would never be without her. She was the evil that lurked in her own heart, after all. That’s not something you can just banish. Still, it disconcerted her that she had it at all. After a moment of contemplation, Delilah shrugged and took a book from the table. This one had a deep green cover and a warm feeling to it, a memory that made her happy and sad at the same time.

I’m going to go back to the whole book thing, if you don’t mind. I’m trying to make up my mind as to what I’m going to do with you. Just be patient while I figure that out, will you?

She listened again for another few heartbeats. Nothing.

Sighing, she took the book in both their hands and cracked the cover, peeling it open gently. Light and a robotic voice came out of the book and then the vision covered her view.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

SPOILER: Click to show

OOC: Credit for Stu's posts goes to Stu Pott himself for this little thing. This brief pseudo-RP was done over PM's

Love,
Gem

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Delilah stood by a window in the waiting area of the San Francisco International Airport, scowling at the planes taxiing towards the runway. Beside her was a large luggage case full of clothes and toiletries and whatever else goes in these damn things. She couldn’t care less about that right now. Not one flying fuck, or so to speak. This wasn’t her bag, after all. It was Stu’s.

Muttering darkly under her breath, Delilah folded her arms across her chest and stared at the planes intently, silently willing something to break or fall off so they would have to delay the flight another couple of hours. When that didn’t work out, she sighed and ran a restless hand through her red and black hair. She felt stupid and pathetic for feeling so bitter about this. It wasn’t like he was never coming back. Why did she care so much, anyway? They had known each other for like, what, a month?

Only a month? Man, it feels so much longer than that… She thought wistfully, a small smile appearing on her lips in spite of herself. The time they’d spent together had been better than anything Delilah had experienced thus far. She felt connected to Stu, had from the moment they started talking in that bar a month ago. She felt like they really knew each other…hell, they’d spent as much time as possible together since their twenty-four hour stint at that hotel. The nights they stayed up talking, about nothing, about everything, were too numerous to count. And the sex…well. Just the thought of that brought a wry smile and a blush to Delilah’s face. And perhaps just as importantly. Delilah felt that Stu truly understood her. There was no one else who could charm away her tough-girl façade so easily, no one who made her laugh more, no one who was as right for her as him.

There was no one else.

As she realized this, Delilah tilted her head upwards to look at the ceiling, pushing her feelings back down. They made her feel sick to her stomach. “Aw, fuck me,” she whispered in a cracking voice. She hugged herself and let out a shaky breath as she waited for Stu.

----------------------

"No, I don't want the veggie meal! Bloody hell woman, just gimme my damn ticket!"

His face was contorted, not really angry but more just frustrated. He was leaving her today, and it wasn't a decision he would've made lightly. Sure, they hardly knew each other beyond the past month, but it had been pretty damn skippy that entire time.

He turned as he snatched the ticket from the receptionist's hand.

"Have a good flight!" Fuck you.

As he turned, though, his anger melted away, his eyes catching sight of their apple, the thing that made him smile. Her. Delilah. He sauntered over, his gangly gait carrying him the distance quickly.

"Hey, twist." He basically scooped her up, holding her close to him even though it had been only a few minutes since he had touched her last. He was dreading boarding that plane, a metal tube hurling through the air that would bring a separation to them that would be a bit more intense than either of them imagined.

Stu had told Del that he was going to be back soon, that he had to take care of his family while his father was sick. What she didn't know is that his father was not just sick, but dying. He was not long for this world, and Stu knew it better than any other. Worse, he was expected to run the family businesses, or at least make an honest attempt until a suitable replacement could be found.

He was not looking forward to this.

He pulled away, his fingers interlocking with her as they walked towards the terminal and his gate. Through the corner of his eye he watched her walk alongside him in silence, the weight of the impending goodbye squelching any good revelry they might have had while together in these final moments, augmented by Stu's own guilt over holding back from Del.

They arrived at the gate, but the plane wasn't ready to be boarded. He turned towards Del, taking his bag from her hand.

"Well... This is me..."

----------------------

The walk towards the gate filled her with dread, made her feel hollow. She held tightly to his hand, trying to savour every second that remained while every second that passed made her chest feel tighter and tighter. And then, all too quickly, they made it to his gate.

“Well…This is me…”[/size]

She cringed and hung her head slightly, the tightness in her chest hitching her breath. She stood there facing him, trying to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. Frustrated with herself, she exhaled sharply and looked up at him, into his black almost-not-there eyes, still scowling at the situation. No matter how much they disliked it, this was happening. And it hurt.

Abandoning pretense, she launched herself at him, clinging tightly to his wiry frame, her head buried into the nook between his neck and shoulders. She planted several light kisses along his jaw and on his neck, then leaned back a little, looking up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I am really, really gonna miss you, Stu.” She whispered fiercely, almost growling. “You’re damn right you’re gonna come back to me. This isn’t over. It’s not.”

She buried her head against his chest again and just breathed for a while, taking in his scent, the texture of his shirt. After a moment, she laughed a little at herself. “Sorry I’m making such a big deal out of this. I’m pretty sure I’m only making it worse.”

----------------------

The attack came with great pleasure, his arms wrapping around his smaller frame and holding her close, tightly, not wanting to escape to the moment where they would have to dislodge. She pulled back slightly and spoke.

He smiled his toothy grin.

"It's not over til I say it's over, babe."

The intercom overhead blared his flight number and gate, and he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers as he kissed her passionately, the last one they ever would.

He pulled away and blinked, and turned away from her. He walked towards the ticket taker, and walked into the hallway. He stopped and turned and waved, before yelling;

"I Love ya, Del!"

He turned and disappeared down the hallway.

----------------------

With a heavy heart, she watched Stu go, not wanting to look but unable to look away. His kiss lingered on her lips and, for a moment, it all felt surreal. The he gave the woman at the desk his ticket and reality hit her again. She sighed and closed her eyes against the world.

“I love ya, Del!”

Delilah’s heart skipped a beat and she looked up sharply, just in time to watch him disappear down the hallway. She remained that way for a while, people mindlessly milling around her as she stared at the gate. Finally, she smiled and brought her hands up just beneath her chin.

“I love you, too.” she whispered.

Eventually, she would make her way back to her car and drive home, fall into bed, maybe listen to some sappy angry music and try not to feel so bad. She would try and have a drink, only to find that she was too depressed to get drunk. She decided she would take that job Winters had for her and throw herself into that, make her forget her pain for a while.

For now, though, she simply stood there in the airport long after his plane had left, smiling to herself like an idiot and reflecting on their time together. She felt like he had left with some part of herself that was his alone. The only thing holding back her tears were his words from before.

"It's not over til I say it's over," huh?[/color] she thought. The corners of her lips tugged into a half-hearted smile. She started walking towards the exit, her hands tucked into her pockets. As if I’d let you.
[/size]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude five

The memory died away, leaving Delilah with a wistful sigh and an ache in her heart. She stared vacantly at the surface of the oak table, turning her thoughts over in her mind. Of all the things that had happened to her since coming to #259, her time with Stu had been among the most cherished, second only to the birth of her son. Their son. She winced as she remembered for the millionth time that they had fallen out of contact since she was imprisoned. He likely had no idea about her whereabouts, maybe at best an educated guess considering her ties with Militia. She certainly had no idea about his, other than the fact he was in England.

It occurred to her that Stu might not even be alive. She couldn’t be sure that the bombs had destroyed anything outside of California, but by now the military ought to have been implementing some sort of order. Even aid from neighbouring countries should have been flowing in. So far though, there had been no military presence or aid of any kind and Delilah was beginning to fear the worst: that this was not an isolated incident but a world-wide event. It was actually still a miracle to Delilah that she had survived at all. If this wasn’t isolated, if this had been an attack on the world…

No,[/color] Delilah shook her head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. I won’t speculate on what ‘might’ be. Focus on what is. I’m here for a reason, after all. Thinking about it isn’t going to help me right now.

A chill ran up and down her spine at her own words. The end of the world. That in itself harboured implications she didn’t even want to consider.

“Mmhmmhmmhahahahahahaaaa…”[/i]

Delilah looked up sharply, alarmed. She quickly turned her expression into one of arrogance, smirking at the dark laughter that resonated throughout the library. Well, hello again. Do you have something funny you’d like to share? I love a good joke. Oh, I have one for you: One time I was talking to a guy who thought that a Freudian slip was something that his mother wore under her dress. I did not bother to correct him. Funny right? Hah, hah, hah.

Aww, what’s the matter? she said in response to the silence that greeted her joke. Didn’t you like that one? I’m terribly sorry if that offended you. Perhaps you’d like to share what you thought was so funny with me? Hmm? Delilah listened for a moment longer. No response. No? Well, if you have nothing constructive to say, why don’t you just go back to sulking for now. I’ll deal with you soon enough.[/i]

Smug, Delilah turned her attention back to the pile of books and plucked one out of the middle. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed before; it was hard to miss. The cover was bright red with a black imprint of a bird in the centre. Delilah started when she noticed that, blinking in surprise. She looked down at her left wrist, saw the scar tissue that covered her red-wing black bird tattoo and understood. A grim expression settled onto her face as she opened the book, aware that what it contained was something she hadn’t revisited in a while.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Sensei Raphael clapped his hands loudly, interrupting the students who were struggling with the technique he had demonstrated for them. “Okay , thatssit for tonight. Line up.”

The students scrambled for the edge of the green tatami to face the kami-dana on the south wall, lining up according to belt rank. Delilah stood among the brown belts, an initiate of the “dirty belt” of only weeks before, smiling happily. It had been a good class. Their teacher strode into the center of the room a few feet ahead of his students, facing the Japanese shrine mounted on the wall. He put his hands in front of him, clapping them together as if in prayer. His students followed suit.

“Shiken harumitsu dai-ko myo,” He intoned, his Chilean accent rolling around the words like velvet.

“Shiken harumitsu dai-ko myo,” everyone repeated.

As one, they clapped twice, bowed towards the kami-dana, straightened, clapped once more and bowed again. Sensei Raphael turned around to face his students, bowing shallowly. His students bowed slightly lower in return, saying “thank you, sensei” in varying languages.

He smiled at his class, eyes crinkling at the corners. He clapped his hands together again. “Good work tonight. Joo hav’ all done berry well. But,” he raised a thick finger and waggled it at them as he began to pace. Delilah loved how he spoke; slow and deliberate, like he was trying to talk around a mouth full of roses. Although Sensei Raph was in his early forties, he had the physique of a healthy man in his late twenties and spoke as though he were ageless. With his medium brown skin, smiling gray eyes and generous mouth, he could be considered handsome if not for his nose, which had been broken eight times and bent at a harsh angle to the right.

He eyed each of them in turn, appraisingly. “…Joo will always…hav’ room for improvement. Practice at homm. Practice make joo beder. Go homm an’ doan bug me no more.” He waved his hands at them in dismissal at the light hearted chuckles his comment received and began straightening up his dojo.

One by one, the students filed into the change rooms: a large one for the boys and a smaller one for the girls. Sometimes, in her little preteen mind, Delilah resented the fact that there weren’t enough girls in the class to warrant a larger changing room. There was just her and Marlene, a fourteen year old who was coming along nicely in her development (as all the boys in the class seemed to be noticing, thank you very much). She was only a green belt, but somehow, she made Delilah feel insignificant. She was perfectly nice and a good partner to work with, but there was something about the older girl that really pissed Delilah off.

This would be Delilah’s first documented case of body envy, which she wouldn’t recognize until a few years had passed.

Fortunately, Marlene hadn’t been in class tonight and Delilah had the ladies change room all to herself. She pulled off her black gi quickly and stuffed it in her bag, leaving the bottoms on as well as the tank top she had underneath. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror above the sink, brow furrowed.

Even for a girl who was only twelve, Delilah was somewhat boyish in appearance. She wore her black hair cropped short (much to her father’s chagrin; he’d always preferred it long) and hadn’t even thought of using make-up yet. She was too skinny for someone her height: she was an impressive 5’4” for her age and towered above even some of the older boys in her class already. Her perpetual scowl and lack of body fat didn’t really help matters either. The only thing truly feminine about her were her eyes, bright blue and framed by long, dark eyelashes. Maybe I should change with the boys, she thought moodily as she pulled on her hoodie. Let Marlene have the girls room to herself or whatever. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Delilah slipped quietly out of the change room.

She hung around for a few minutes to talk to some of the other students, wanting to go home and sleep but not wanting to leave either. It was complicated that way: She felt like the dojo was her home but that couldn’t be because her mom and dad weren’t there. That was just silly. Years later, when she discovered her love for a certain high school in Long Beach, she would understand just how simple that really was.

Finally, she couldn’t stay out any longer and bade every one goodnight. She moved to the door and put on her shoes.

“Delilah.”

She looked up and saw her Sensei standing over her, a small smile on his face. She stood quickly, barely coming up to his collarbone. “Yes, sensei?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, thought the better of it, and shook his head. He spread his arms a little, offering the skinny, pale girl a fatherly hug. “Is nothing. Haf a good night. See joo for Sanday, jes?”

Though she received the hug a little awkwardly, it was welcome nevertheless. Delilah didn’t receive forms of affection very often in her household so this was a nice change. Plus, Sensei Raph smelled of spices and old leather, a good, clean scent that she would remember for years to come. Considering that, Delilah didn’t mind contact with the Chilean man in the least.

“I’ll be there, sir,” she replied, earning her another squeeze from her teacher. She bade him and the rest of her class good night again and exited the dojo. As the door swung shut behind her, Delilah inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the rain that had fallen earlier, the remnants of which lay glittering on the rosebushes that surrounded the dojo. The air was somewhat humid and had a shimmering, faerie quality in the fading light of the day. She couldn’t help but admire the world and its unrivaled beauty. Marlene now completely forgotten, Delilah began her trek home, riding off a wave of happiness that comes with being young and innocent.

That too, would soon be forgotten.

Delilah made her way swiftly through the streets and let her feet carry her where they may, maneuvering in and out of alleys as though it were her second nature. No, that’s not right, she thought , leaping over an over turned garbage can and landing with a dull thud on the other side, still years away from moving with total silence and control. This is my first nature. Like sensei says: instinct and how to move must become your first nature. Anything less, and you’re losing.[/i] She nodded to herself and hung a left into another alley.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Standing about four or five meters ahead of her were two adult men standing in the middle of the alley, talking in low voices. They looked up at her shadow as it passed over the entrance to the alley, seeing her. They continued their conversation, and with their faces shrouded in shadow she couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure, but she had a feeling they were still looking at her.

Cold dread slithered over heart, forcing it into a hard lump in her throat. She swallowed it down and started walking forward slowly with her eyes facing forward, watching them with her peripheral vision. With the noise coming from the road behind her, she caught nothing but snatches of their conversation as it drifted towards her in between the roar of passing vehicles. As she walked closer, she became certain that they were talking about her.

“Black….her.”

“…sure…girl?”

“That’s what…-aid.”

“…skin-…..-itch, yeah?”

Delilah’s body was tense, her heart thudding in her ears. Had she been older than she was now, she might have dismissed the paranoid sensation that they were after her. Had she been younger, she may never have even noticed the threatening notes in the men’s words. But she was at that delicate age somewhere between girl and woman, still months away from her first period and the hormonal changes puberty brought and the days when she played with her toys (Batman and Transformers, thank you very much) not all that far behind her. These two parts of her were colliding within her, fighting each other for dominance of the girl’s mind and her heart.

But Delilah was too young, too naïve to observe such internal conflict. She only knew what she saw, what she heard and what she felt. She had no idea that, slowly but surely, the veil of innocence was being torn from her eyes with each passing moment.

She continued her pace forward, head low, now about eight feet away from the men. The men had stopped talking and continued to stare at her, but they made no moves to impede or apprehend her. A small spark of relief wormed its way through her mind as she closed the distance, aiming to move around the pair, only to have that spark quickly snuffed out as one of the men casually stepped into her path.

She stopped, frozen. The world around them was suddenly filled with deafening silence, thick and suffocating. The intent was palpable. She was afraid, very much so. All the nightmares and scary movies in the world couldn’t compare to what she was experiencing now. But there was something else stirring within her, something she couldn’t quite place.

Shaking, Delilah made to move past the man on the his right side, murmuring a quiet “Excuse me,” as she went.

Silently, the other man moved in front of her and blocked her path and she was again halted. This time she backed up a step, looking up into the shadowed faces of these two men and found nothing there. The fear was growing within her, but so was that other feeling, the one she couldn’t place, not yet. She frowned disapprovingly at the men, trying to hide her terror. “Let me through,” she demanded, her cold voice far steadier than she felt.

The two men advanced forward a step, closing what little remained of the distance between them.

“No,” said one.

“Don’t you know it’s bad for little girls to be out by themselves at night?” said the other. Delilah took another step back and they moved forward. The one on the right shifted ever so slightly, and it was a miracle that Delilah caught it at all. Out of the periphery of her vision, she caught a glint of something metal being drawn from a pocket.

A knife.

Cold fear stabbed into her and her shaking worsened. Her breath hitched in her chest, fighting to scream for help, for someone to do something, anything--

And in that instant, a calm certainty washed over her. No one was coming for her. No one would be her saviour. There was only her.

Her. And the men.

The men started to move and she stopped knowing the world for a while outside of what her body was doing, seemingly of its own accord.

The thing about Ninjutsu is that it hones instinct and intuition, highlights the natural movements of the body. It reteaches what we have forgotten, what we know when we are born but forget when we age. Humankind has grown soft over the years of modern conveniences being wantonly thrown at our feet. Having everything provided for us, we forget to survive.

They lunged for her and Delilah snapped her body to the side, throwing her back against the wood fence as they moved past her. She darted behind them, kicking the man who had been on the right on the back of his knee, grabbed his head as he fell forward with her strong, nimble hands and threw him backwards to the concrete behind them. His head bounced off the ground with a crack and he cried out in pain, clutching his head.[/size]

“COCK SUCKING LITTLE BITCH, I’M GONNA— ”[/i][/size]

Panicking, Delilah delivered a swift kick to the side of his head. Though she wouldn’t wear combat boots for some years, the impact of her sneaker was still enough to rattle the thug’s brains around in his skull. With another shrill cry, he rolled onto his stomach, clutching at his head.

Then, the short hairs on the back of her neck raised and instinct screamed at her.

ROLL

Delilah’s body jerked to the side as the second man dove past her in an attempt to tackle the girl. She had moved slightly too late, however, and was clipped by his arm as he rushed past, botching her roll by causing her to bump her head on the asphalt. As she got to her feet, blood began trickling from the small cut on her forehead and down her face. The man had recovered quickly and was now rushing at Delilah again with the knife gleaming in his hand.

He reached out to grab her by the collar (which he did) and thrust the knife forward into her guts (which he did not). When he contacted her, Delilah lightly laid her hand over his and swiveled her hips to the side, narrowly dodging the knife which had lodged itself in the wooden boards of the fence behind her. Her other hand latched on to the man’s, her fingers stabbing into the pressure point between his index and middle fingers. Keeping his hand close to her body, Delilah jerked her body to the outside, turning his hand over painfully and causing him to lose his balance. He fell against the fence and the girl brought her knee into his face twice, causing him to black out.

She stumbled back, her hands, knee and head throbbing with equal urgency, looking around. Neither of the men were unconscious. Incapacitated, yes. Out? No. Delilah stood there dumbly for a moment, wondering what to do next. Her eyes flicked towards the knife still lodged in the fence post and a dark consideration fell across her features.

One of the men groaned and Delilah started, suddenly realizing that if she didn’t do something that they could be functioning again at any moment. A thrill of panic running through her again, Delilah stepped forward, raised her right leg, and brought it down on the man’s ankle.

-CRACK-

Delilah winced at the noise, her stomach lurching. The man’s eyes and mouth flew open, his face a perfect expression of agony, but he emitted no sound. She watched as his eyes gradually rolled back in his head and he went still, the pain rendering him unconscious.

Shaking, Delilah moved on to the second man and repeated the process, this time somewhat prepared for the sickening noise that followed her dislocating his ankle. This man screamed in anguish, the chords on his neck standing out as his voice echoed loudly through the area. As his cries died away, Delilah began hearing snippets of concerned voices coming around the corner. Alarmed, the girl ran from the alley and would not stop until she reached home.

----------------------

Gasping for breath, Delilah jogged up the driveway to her house, fumbling with the keys to her house. Furtively, she checked over her shoulder twice to see if anyone was following her before unlocking the door and bolting inside as if hell itself were on her heels.

She slumped against the door, one hand clutching at her chest, trying to still the pounding of her heart. A stitch stabbed at her side, it hurt to breathe, there was a rushing in her ears akin to a waterfall and all of her limbs ached. The world was spinning and for a moment, Delilah thought that she might actually die.

The moment passed as her breathing started to steady and her heart stopped trying to burst through her chest. She slowly began to stand up on shaking legs, the whole ordeal that had only occurred a few minutes ago surreal to the girl whose innocence was melting away. Once she had regained her breath, it occurred to her that her mother must be worried. She was home later than she should have been. She winced at the thought of being berated by her mother again and wanting to be comforted at the same time. Wobbling a little, she started up the stairs, gripping the handrail tightly.

“Mom?” she called as she made her way upwards. When there was no response, fear began bubbling up inside her again. “Mom?”

She’s probably sleeping, idiot, she thought in a feeble attempt to calm herself. Everything’s fine.

Eventually, she made it to the top of the stairs. Now she could hear the muffled sounds of sobbing coming down the hall from her parents’ room.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--”

The instinct to turn away, to go and find help lifted the hairs on the back of her neck again. Shaking, she continued forward toward the door, pressed onward by a morbid curiosity she didn’t know she had. “Mom?”

“I can’t…I can’t…our little girl! I’m so sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry--”

The sobbing only grew louder and louder the closer she got to her parents’ room.. As she held out a trembling hand to open the door, Delilah’s foot touched something sticky and warm and wet. She pulled back, disgusted, and looked down at her feet.

Blood.

Blood was seeping out from under the door and into the white carpet around her.

She gasped and her eyes widened, her naïve mind unable to comprehend what was going on. Without thinking, Delilah threw open the door. “MOM---!!”

Kneeling over her the lifeless body of her husband, Delilah’s mother sobbed uncontrollably, her face contorted with grief. Like the carpet, she was covered in his blood, spilled from a wide flap cut into the side of his neck, exposing his arteries to the world. The life had seeped from his body, leaving his flesh chalk-like and slack, his life spilled out on the floor around him. His blue eyes – the very ones that Delilah inherited – were glassy and unseeing, though they stared off into the distance. A purple, swollen tongue lolled out of his mouth onto blue lips.

In the hysteria that began to cloud her mind, she had one clear, illogical thought:

Now who will take me to my piano lessons?

Delilah fainted in the doorway, falling face first into the blood of her father.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

EDIT ::

SPOILER: Click to show

OOC :

Official word count at this point for all of Delilah's posts (read: my writing) : 15, 187.

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude Six[/b]

Delilah set the book down with a grimace, relieved to watch it fade. In the years since her father’s death, (what was it now…ten, going on eleven years? ) she had relived this memory countless times in the form of nightmares. But those dreams had eventually stopped coming with time, or warped into another set of nightmares. This had been different. Never before, probably not since the day he died, had it ever been so…vivid. Pulling off the silk gloves, Delilah pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb and let out a slow, weary exhale and closed her eyes. The thick smell of blood was poignant still. It gave her a headache.

She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of the Red-wing Black Bird tattoo that adorned her unmarred wrist. She blinked in surprise. That tattoo was long gone, destroyed four years ago by a rough fall onto the debris during her escape from the mental facility. She looked up and down the length of her now bare arms and realized that she was entirely without her scars. She turned her hands over, staring in wonder. I forgot what my own skin looked like… she thought with a light laugh.

Her smile quickly vanished as she realized how profoundly sad that was. She couldn’t remember what she looked like without scars? Wounds? Marks of adversity? That was depressing to say the least. Slowly, she lowered her hands until they rested in her lap. She folded her right hand over the left, gripping them tightly together and stared down at the tattoo, chewing on her lower lip, considering.

For the longest time, she had been proud of her scars. They were like little milestones, badges of honour in the war known as ‘Life’. She could recount where she had gotten almost every one and why, how much blood had spilled from that wound, how long it had taken to heal. They were mementoes of her learning experiences in combat, in her trade, in learning how to survive. They were a part of her. They were her. Those scars made up everything that she was, both the physical and mental ones.

That was the whole purpose of her Red-wing Black-Bird tattoo, an animal she identified very closely with. Those birds fight tooth and nail to protect everything they held dear, sometimes taking on hawks or eagles in order to protect their nest (often times, even if said bird of prey had no interest in the nest at all). It was her talisman, her promise to herself that she would fight to the very end for what she loved most. She was proud of herself for enduring the pain of learning the hard way and going beyond that. That alone was worth the scars she earned along the way.

And yet…

Some part of Delilah wanted none of this. She wasn’t sure if it was the part of her that was still a spoiled rich girl living in Beverly Hills or if it was the part of her that wanted to stop fighting and live in peace. It didn’t really matter which was which anyway. A piece of her yearned for a normal life, one where she could have a husband who loved her and attended to her, a little two storey house in the suburbs, a yard and a dog for Oliver and, hell, a Volvo while she was at it. She could be a decent mom and she would move to a place where there was no corporal punishment in high school. No son of hers was going to become a ruffian who flouted authority as easy as she had in her day. Not if she was going to be a normal mom in a normal neighbourhood with normal people and a nice husband who held a barbeque every Sunday with the Anderson’s from across the road. And she could have her own auto-body shop again, maybe even go back to school to get her official engineering degree. And she would never have to suffer any of the hardships she already had never, ever again.

“That’s too easy for you.”[/i]

Delilah looked up sharply to see The Woman sitting across from her with a rather bored expression on her face. Delilah watched as she rolled her yellow, iridescent eyes and shook her head.

“Don’t get me wrong, ‘Li, that’s quite a pretty fantasy you churned up there. Picture perfect…for anyone but you.”[/i]

Delilah’s face suddenly warped into a snarl and she bared her teeth. Leave.[/u][/color]

“Thank’s for the offer, but, no. I think I’ll stay.”[/i] replied The Woman in a flat voice. That jarred Delilah a little; she had grown used to her talking in a smooth tone. “You want a life you can’t have, a life you could never have. Think about it. What would you be without what you’ve been through? Say you never were angry and had to learn martial arts, or that your dad never died, or that you never went to #259. Sure, you would have grown up and lived a normal citizen’s life, content but completely ignorant of what was going on right in your backyard.

“Just like your mother~.”[/i]

The Woman had transformed herself to Delilah’s mother in the blink of an eye. Even in Delilah’s mind, she was a beauty that her daughter could never hope to achieve, evidenced by her luxurious wavy golden hair, perfect ruby-red lips and bright green eyes. She looked like one of the women you find on mediocre literary porn, the ones with insanely perfect bodies that get swept off their feet by bronzed men with oil glistening on their rippling musculature who have ridiculously luscious hair. The left corner of her mouth rose and fell in a half-attempt at a smirk.

“Really, dear, it’s unbecoming of a lady to have her mouth hanging open like that.”

Delilah closed her mouth with a clack, her surprise giving way to unrivalled fury. Anyone who was watching Delilah’s physical body would have noticed by now that her hands had balled themselves into fists so tight that her nails had cut through the skin of her palm and that she was trembling with anger. But here, in the metaphysical world deep inside Delilah’s mind, her hair was floating around her head in a halo of ink, her eyes wide and glowing an eerie sapphire blue. Feral anger stretched across her face and her muscles were pronounced to their full flex. She pushed the bench back as she rose to her feet and leaned toward the woman with both her arms on the table. She stared down with a look of pure hatred at the one who had given birth to her. The malicious intent that poured off of her was staggering, clouded her mind and made her want to kill this version of her mother. Only the notion that this was an illusion held her back.

You dare? she hissed, her voice little more than a guttural rasp.

With a toss of her blonde hair and a light laugh, she cried, “And there’s your proof!”[/i] in a mirthful voice, pointing a long nailed finger at Delilah. “Do you realize how you’re reacting right now? If you did what you’re doing right now to anyone else, they would probably be afraid of you.”[/size][/i]

YOU ARE THE ONE WHO MADE ME THIS WAY--[/I][/SIZE]

“And you would be nothing otherwise!”[/i] Her mother snapped, slamming her palm down against the table with a loud bang. “If you had your ‘normal’ life with your white picket fence and your two-point-four children, you would probably be dead right now! You could have killed yourself when your father died or gave in and became an obedient little school girl like Mama always wanted, but you didn’t!! And look where it got you!”[/i] She flung out an arm towards the library behind her. “You cannot have a normal life because you are not a normal person. You are so much more than that it is truly a pain to me that you don’t realize it.”[/i]

THEN WHAT AM I?! She shouted, WHAT IS IT ABOUT ME THAT MEANS THAT I DON’T DESERVE WHAT EVERYONE ELSE GETS?! WHY CAN’T I BE NORMAL AND HAVE A DECENT LIFE THAT WILL LAST ME FIFTY MORE YEARS? HUH? I PROBABLY WON’T LIVE PAST THIRTY! WHY CAN’T I HAVE A REAL LIFE?! WHY?![/I]

Wordlessly, her mother reached toward the pile of books and arbitrarily grabbed one off the top, tossing it to Delilah who caught it deftly. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

She looked at the book in her hands, and saw nothing particularly special about it. She was too angry, too conflicted to feel anything in particular about the book. With a grunt, she sat back down and opened it, letting the vision take her.[/size]

[Delilah A. Black]

Multiple memories bloomed before Delilah's eyes, things that she felt and touched, but could not grasp, they were so fleeting. It was like reading diary entries decades old, recalling long distant incidences that seemed meaningless now, but were ever so important at the time.

She watched, wide eyed as she free floated towards platform after platform, recalling the person she had made herself to be.

--The school secretary looked over the rim of her cat-eye glasses at the black-and-red haired girl dressed in unflattering boys clothes and back at the paper in her hands, skeptical, “So, you're transferring from Flintridge Sacred Heart? Why is that?”

Delilah shrugged apathetically, as though it didn't matter either way. “Funds have been low since my step-dad died and I was getting bored. The girls at my school were bullies, so, mom thought this might be a better fit.”

The woman looked the girl up and down, her skepticism mounting. “Uh-huh.”

“What?” she scowled.

“I just find it hard to believe that the daughter of a California marketing giant would suddenly not have enough money to attend her prestigious prep school.” she stared at the teenager blatantly, obviously not believing a word of the girl's illconcocted lies. Delilah would sigh in exasperation, her efforts clearly going nowhere. She forced herself to remain calm and not chew this lady out here and now.

She dipped into the depthless pockets of her cargo pants for a moment and slid something over the counter towards the lady. As the girl withdrew her hand, the woman's eyes widened at the sight of a one hundred dollar bill sitting there between her and the girl.

“That's how it is.” the girl said seriously. “My Mom signed the paper. And I am transferring to this school.” her eyebrows lifted challengingly, almost daring the woman to disagree with her.

Incredulous, the poor school secretary looked down to at the money on the counter and back at the stone faced girl with...too many piercings for a girl who had been in a boarding school, she realized. And a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. How old was this child? Sixteen at most? And here she was, trying to bribe to get into one of the most problematic schools in the city.

“...why?” She asked, obviously confused.

Delilah shrugged again, a lopsided smile pulling at her lips. “Dunno. Just feels like I should be here. Mom used to say that was women's intuition.”

The secretary stared blankly at the young woman for several seconds and glanced down at the one hundred dollar bill in front of her. No one had ever bribed her to get in to school before. She wasn't sure how to deal with it.

“Well?”

The woman looked up at the earnest, bright eyes of the young woman standing before her. For a moment, she thought of saying 'no' and calling a truancy officer on this girl, who was obviously forging her mother's signature and dropping out of a high profile school without her permission. But the look in the girl's eyes, her features, (which, with a little makeup, would probably be quite lovely) her rough and tumble appearance....this was a place she belonged. A society girl she might have been, but that was not who she had wanted to be.

With a reluctant sigh, the woman pulled the bill towards her where it would vanish under her desk and place the paper in a tray beside her. “Give me a moment to put your schedule together, Miss Black.”

Delilah would smile brightly at the woman, triumphant, “Than--”

---

”--k you to fuck off and leave me alone, now.” she warned the men standing across from her. “I've already told you once. Don't make me say it again.”

One of the men, a scruffy looking kid in a leather jacket scoffed at the girl leaning against her '57 Chrysler. “I'm starting to think you're too scared to race me.”

“Not scared. Just too smart to do stupid shit.”

“Who would know? It's not like we've ever been caught.”

“Best way to not get caught is to not do it.”

“Pfft. Chicken.”

The group made obnoxious clucking sounds at the mechanic until a small vein started working in her forehead.

“Unless the lot of you want to find out who the fuck is a chicken, I suggest you shut the hell up.”

The men laughed raucously, obviously not threatened by the girl. “Ha! What're ya gonna do? Slap us? Try to run us over with your car? Call DADDY?”

The black haired girl's eyes widened ever so slightly and her face smoothed over, pale skin becoming like marble.

Suddenly she was in front of them, two fingers jabbing into the man's throat on either side of his jaw to hit the lymph nodes and gripped him there, bringing him down to eye level to look him in the eye.

“My dad is DEAD.”

WHAM

Blood squirted out the man's nose and tears filled his eyes as her forehead collided with his nose. With a strangled cry, he stumbled back into his Nissan Skyline, clutching his broken nose. Through blurry vision, he could see the girl walking away from him, striding confidently back to her car.

“FUCKIN' BITCH!” He hollered after her. “YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!”

The raven haired girl laughed haughtily as she opened the door to her car. “Fuckin' MAKE ME.”

Slipping into the driver's seat, Delilah revved the engine and shot off out of the dusty patch of hard ground these guys used for their races. As she drove past them on her way out, she flipped the men the--

hr

”--bird. Right here on the inside of my wrist.”

The tattoo artist nodded his head as he sketched away, trying to find something that met the girls specifications. “Aaand, do you want this to be in full colour or just black and white?”

“Full colour, with shading.”

“Mmhmm.”

He glanced up from his work at the girl across from him, lifting an eyebrow. “Not often I get requests as specific as this, yanno.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, most people come in here not really knowing what they want, make me throw something up on the spot for them, decide what they do and don't like and wind up changing their minds every three seconds.” He went back to his sketching. “Must have a lot of meaning for you.”

“It does.” Silence followed the statement.

The man looked up, amused “Yeah? Mind sharing your show-and-tell with the class there, Miss Vague?”

Delilah chuckled and relented with a soft sigh. “Sorta just represents an ideal I hold dear. A red-wind black bird will defend their nest at any cost, even their lives. They go after hawks, people, and animals that prey on their eggs, but really anything that comes near the nest. They are relentless, never give up and are always ready to defend the things they love. I want to emulate that.”

The man watched the girl for a long moment, as if trying to decipher her. Just before the staring started getting uncomfortable, he went back to the sketch. “That's deep, bro.”

She beamed, “Thanks, I thought so too.”

Delilah sat back in her chair and let the man work out a rough draft of her idea, staring off into space and found herself staring at the clock. If she had it her way, in an hour, he would be--

---

--pressing on, her bare feet pounding the sand as the rising sun warmed it beneath her feet. She added spring to her step, carrying her stride a little farther. Delilah inhaled through her nose, and exhaled through her mouth, breathing air that was cleaner, but in less quantity. She followed this process because it cleared her mind.

Finally, she slowed to a jog, then a walk, and then stopped all together and sitting down on the sand, her chest rising and falling with her laboured breath. She watched the sunrise, the salty air invigorating the young raven haired girl. She put her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She growled darkly. "Stupid little idiodic..."

What was that?

Delilah caught something at the corner of her eye and turned her head to look. Washed up with the tide, she saw something dark, clearly battered and limp wash onto the sand with the receding surf of low tide.

Drift-wood probably...

That didn't stop her heart from hammering in her chest or from Delilah getting to her feet. There was a flicker in her mind...an idea, and it frightened her. Her walk picked up tempo and soon, she was running at full tilt to the place where the increasingly visible something lay, and she knew deep in her heart what it was, and a ragged cry tore her throat.

"Rem!" She skidded on her knees to his side, contracting a fierce burn on her shins from the friction, but dismissing it. This was more important. She looked at his wounds, wincing and with rising panic.

"Rem...no....nononononononono...dammit, you idiot..." She checked his vitals, so overly relieved to find him still alive that she shouted in surprise at his heart beat beneath her palm. She sat there with him for a while, deciding what to do. Finally, she repositioned herself, and gently pulled Rem onto her back. Rising shakily to her feet from the weight of the boy, she started off back to her apartment, at a quick, even pace, trying not to jostle him. The whole time, she thought of the man she had come to think of as "the monster" and why Rem had--

---

--Gone.

She was gone.

Delilah stood in her old Beverly Hills mansion, staring at the dust covered furniture of her old friend's room. She paced back and forth on the carpet, singing under her breath to the little, whimpering bundle in her arms.

Her oldest female friend was nowhere to be found.

“Close your eyes and sleep long—dammit Arim-- for today is now goooone.”

Sighing, she left the room and continued wandering the house. No Rem, but that was obvious. No Choco-fluff either, but she guessed Rem had taken the pomeranian when he left. Or so she hoped. The only other alternative was that Letz Shake had eaten the poor thing at last. Speaking off the freeloading squatter, he was nowhere to be found either. Probably arrested, again. Or dead. She was hoping for dead.

But Arim...

Sighing, she looked down at her little white haired, blue eyed boy, marvelling at him. How alone she was without him. There was almost nothing that remained of her past any more, save for “Unfettered” and the last remnant of Stu that had had given her new life.

Looking up at the vaulted ceiling of the library, Arim's favourite sitting place, she began to sing to the fussing baby, quietly. Hoping her friend would somehow hear her prayer.

“I hear you breathing
your heartbeat small, but strong
a child like Summer
with eyes like skies of Fall
heavy is the heartache
when you're never around
wherever your sweet heart is,
i hope it's safe and sound
i hope you're safe.and sound
sweet–your mother
she holds you soft and warm
a train's coming
you always heard the horn
i miss your hands on my face
as i rock you up and down
wherever your sweet heart is
i hope it's safe and sound
i hope you're safeand sound
go to sleep tonight
go to sleep tonight
go to sleep tonight sweet Milly girl
go to sleep tonight.”

[/i]


Sighing with a stray tear rolling freely down her cheek, she looked down at Oliver, now fast asleep in her arms. She managed a small smile before turning her heel, striding from the room.

”I'm ready,” she would call out to her escort “Let's go,”[/size][/blockquote]

[Delilah A. Black]

Interlude Seven

The library world of her inner mind came back into focus, the only remnant of the memories that had poured over her vulnerable soul like water a deep ache in her heart. And, to her surprise, shame.

Arim had been her first and, at the time, only female friend. Delilah thought of the blonde, endearingly clueless Korean girl as a sister. Over time, the mechanic had become accustomed to the pain of losing this close friend, in the way one's body learns to live with a constant ache. She had forgotten.

Now, however, the worry was back and set in deep. She still, after all this time, had no idea where Arim was. Now she couldn't even be certain she was able to survive the bombs. Lord, she had no way of knowing something was going down at the school until it was already too late.

A nearby sigh brought Delilah out of her reverie, and she turned just in time to catch another book as it was thrown towards her.

“It seems you still don't quite understand. Try that one.”

In this case, it was a game of 'which is the lesser of two evils'. Upper lip curling at the image of her mother, Delilah opened the book and fell into another world she recognized all too well.