mercy in the darkness - [/open/adam]

[Quinn]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,300,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][bg=fffff7] She crossed the border shortly after sunrise, the hat crammed tightly down on her ears until they ached. Just a few months ago, she would have been able to wear a hat and a regular pair of jeans. She pushed her way through the underbrush, staying off the foot trails she’d watched a scout racing along earlier. She’d been a little delayed in her start, mostly because of her irrational infatuation with a certain dog. She huffed a little breath, trying desperately not to think of how nice his ass had looked in those pants, or how his eyes had lit up when showing her his newest little pet. Quinn Lynch had absolutely sworn to herself that she was not going to be falling for anyone here in the Menagerie. Especially that womanizing, annoying, stupid, handsome…Desidero Desoto. She tried to shake him from her thoughts, clenching her teeth together so tightly that the pain began to redirect her attention. Her eyes shifted around her warily, knowing full well that she couldn’t simply walk right up to the Gospel Complex. ’Oh hi, I’m friends with Adam, maybe you know him? I had heard a few rumors I’d like to clear up with him, if you could point me in the right direction? Oh, take a left at the corner. Thanks!’ As if it could ever be that easy. She looked at the sky scrapers in the distance, wondering just which building would house her answers. She hadn’t seen Adam Petite since her first days in the Menagerie, but she had heard he’d fallen on both good and bad times and she still had a bone to pick with him about a raid the Fulsi had done shortly after they met. One of his damn scouts had lifted a good bit of her valuables, including a nifty little blade she’d found embedded in a skeleton. Her rations for the week, the ones she’d been hoarding up inside her boxcar, had also been taken. Quinn knew that Adam probably had no idea that one of his scouts had picked up her things, and part of him probably didn’t care either. Fulsi and Fallen were now enemies, and Skye had taken up a partnership with Manic. Quinn made friends more easily than most, not feeling completely tied to a certain ring or group because she didn’t quite comprehend things like that. She didn’t know what it meant to be part of a family, or a close knit group of friends and allies. Her home life hadn’t exactly been a good example, if you knew what her history was. Back to the matters at hand, the Fallen moved quietly across the footpath, checking both ways before doing so. No need to alert anyone, she was here for a quick social. Hi, how are you, you stole my stuff you bastard, and then she was out. She had absolutely no reason to spy on the Fulsi, nothing to be gained for her by snooping around the place. However, she didn’t manage to glimpse the next round of patrol coming around the corner. The pair of scouts weren’t newbies either, these were seasoned veterans of the Fulsi and Quinn hadn’t even heard them coming. She skittered back a step as one of them moved to intercept her path; they forced her out onto the open path, both pairs of eyes narrowing quizzically at her appearance. ”And just who are you?” The taller one asked, his hair the color of sand. His steely gaze told her that he didn’t have a soft spot of intruders of any kind, but she didn’t fumble over her words. ”I’m lost.” The lie rose easily to her tongue, as she took another step backward. Retreat was not a defeat, she told herself but the way these two looked had her hesitating…as if they were eager for her to run. The shorter one smirked mockingly at her, moving slightly off to her left. ”So that’s why you were tip toeing across the line, eh? Better think of something better, girlie.” There was a lilt to his voice, perhaps Scottish? She didn't particularly like Scotts; she grinned wolfishly at the two who were moving in closer like vultures on a kill. "What to do with you, then? We can't just leave you to wander..." Tall guy was thoughtful, crossing his arms across his chest for a moment. "I'm tired to running them off. We need an example Charles, because these stupid Fallen simply aren't getting the message!" With that, Shorty leapt, which really was quite the mistake. She managed to escape his grubby hands, bending at the knees to snatch the small switch blade from beneath her pants leg. The blade swished out with a small chink, it was relatively small thing but it could buy her a little time. Quinn hadn’t had a real fight since she’d beaten the mess out of a Fulsi who had jumped on Desi, and in fact…Shorty looked a little familiar. And his nose just so happened to be a bit crooked, what a quinky dink. ”I guess you don’t remember me then do you? I think I kicked your ass in the Speakeasy a few months ago.” She was grinning wildly now, the rush of adrenaline through her veins absolutely exquisite. Recognition flared up into the Fulsi’s eyes now, though his companion looked on with an expression of confusion. The male’s nostrils flared, an enraged snarl ripping from his throat as she seemed to dance away from his hands every time he flung himself at her. She was miscalculating though, as she missed the taller Fulsi sliding in behind her. He struck with fluid grace, more than making up for his partner’s stupidity. He twisted her wrist hard, causing her to drop the switchblade. It fell with a dull thud, and she didn’t have time to truly react or struggle when a fist slammed into the side of her face. Her hat tumbled to the ground, at last freeing her trapped ears. A hiss of displeasure rippled through the pair, as she grinned, spitting blood onto the ground as her cheek began to heal itself. ”Oi…you mind handing me my hat, I rather liked it.” Being captured was never really a part of the plan. The circumstance, her karma, and her fiddlyfart luck, however, all seemed to agree to her becoming a Fulsi prisoner. Fan-freaking-tastic. The metal bit into her skin, as Shorty seemed determined to make her life a living hell from now on. He was also the one who tethered her to the rope, though she definitely made him work for it. She bashed his head twice with a good head butt, earning her little more than a backhand and a string of choice curses. Quinn wasn’t concerned in the least by her predicament, it seemed. All she needed was to speak to the right people; but how to convince them? The barbs of the wire were already starting to cut into the soft tissue around her neck and wrists. She was trying very hard to keep her temper under some kind of control, outbursts only having earned her a few more bruises to her face. These guys obviously had no problem hitting women, she noted sourly. They were taunting her, having liberated the small switchblade from the hiding place in her shoe shortly after her arrival. They had a telepathic at their disposal, unfortunately not the one Fulsi she happened to be on speaking terms with. He’d also alerted them to her empathy and healing, though the later could do very little besides trying to constantly heal her own wounds. It didn’t help how completely sobered up she was, because she couldn’t blame the alcohol or that her addiction to it had landed her in Fulsi jail. She scowled, trying to roll her wrists too much, or turn her head too fast. Shorty had placed the blankets just out reach of the tether, but the taller guy had at least retrieved her hat and put it firmly on her head. She caught cat naps, sitting ramrod straight against a wall, being awakened ever few moments when her eyes would droop too far. These Fulsi sure did know how to treat a lady, she grumbled, as she settled in until she could figure something out even close to an escape plan. No way in hell was she going to just sit around until someone decided her fate. words: 1,412 ASFKJAGHSKGFJASKFHASF SHE TALKS TOO MUCH. u.u

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