A New Breed (Patrick)

[Azura]

Events that followed the attack were pretty standard. At least at first. They had gone in the van as was planned, waiting until Patrick was out of it before Azura had bothered to rip away her mask. A deep breath taken in as she leaned back against the side of the van and closed her eyes. Though, it didn't last...seeing as how she still felt like a trapped rat or something in the outfit she wore. Ripping off the gloves and throwing them at one of the men who was in the van with her. "His wrist is broken?" Those disapproving eyes shooting toward her and her own hazel gaze glaring back as she arched her brow slightly. "You wanted him for a reason. You really think he would be easy?"

An annoyed snark to her tone as she reached down to unzip the boots on her feet, pulling them off and kicking them away....leaving her in just her socks. A heavy sigh given at the relief she felt, tongue brushing across her lips before her attention diverted to that fucking thing on her wrist. Fingers working to pry it off, finding the act rather difficult."I take it the device worked correctly?" Curious tone now held as the man watched her, all the while going about trying to set Patrick's wrist and what not, make sure he was still okay....for the most part.

A growl erupting from her as she found she couldn't undo that damn thing, her fingers digging in between it and her wrist and ripping it off, listening to the sounds of metal ripping and wires tearing. Dropping at the man's feet as she freed herself from it, though it was nothing more than a hunk of broken metal and wires now. "Yes. The holograms worked fine." Eyes narrowing, clear distaste in her tone as she would continue to keep her eyes on him. God help her, she wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out right here and now. "I still say it was cowardice to use his family against him. Pathetic."

"Well it is a good thing we don't care what you think." His words rather sharp, though guarded, wanting to say more, be more harsh, but knowing that in this small a space it would be suicide. Instead his eyes would shift toward Raven and then back at her, no words needed to remind her or the threat that was currently held. It was the only reason that she had done this in the first place, despite how sick it made her feel on the inside. "I really hope he kills you one day."

A chuckle coming from the man as he shook his head. "You should be the one that is worried. By the time I am done he will be more than willing to do anything I say." That smug grin on his lips something that Azura would be glad to rip off one day. She just had to figure out a way to do it and then, they would be sorry for all of this. "We will see." A glance given toward that unconscious body before she would turn her head away and lean back. She was just ready to get back home and shower, get this fake dye crap out of her hair and put on something way more comfortable.

Everything else would fall into place later......

3 Hours Later

When Patrick awoke, the scenery would have drastically changed from the dark interior of the van which he had been in only hours before. No, instead there would be a bright light shining down onto him, the walls of the room starch white and the area beneath him cold steel. It wasn't hard to guess, once the fog created in the mind by the drug had cleared, where he was.

Though, any and all doubt that he might have had would be washed away with the realization that moving anything other than his head was impossible. His wrists, ankles and waist had been strapped down. The straps designed for Azura herself seeing as how the last time she got free in the midst of an experiment she had killed three people and seriously injured two. Yeah, they didn't ever want a repeat and therefore they had made adjustments. Those very adjustments ensuring, without a doubt, that he could not get free.

Pants on, shirt stripped away, the cold steel of the table would be felt against his back. Various electrodes stuck to his chest and temples, the sound of monitors somewhere behind him giving a pretty good clue of what they were for. Also behind him, the sounds of people moving could be heard. Hushed, muffled voices, shuffling footsteps, and various metal and metal sounds as instruments were moved and sorted about.

Then, as feeling and awareness fully started to come back, it would become clear that there was a burning sensation on the underside of his right bicep. A simple tattoo really, one that he would not really be able to see until later, but one that would probably define his life from here on out, or so the doctors and scientists of this lab hoped. The symbol for demon and a number..."1432". Just like all the others, this one had to be marked. For experiment purposes of course.

Other than that, the only thing of real notice, which was possibly rather important, was the fact that there was an IV in his left arm. Though perhaps it was not so much the IV itself that was the issue, but the stuff that it was feeding into his system. At first, it would be weak, nothing really more than a very uncomfortable feeling in his system that would slowly increase to a burning within his veins.....however as time ticked by, it became clear that it was working to do more than just set his body on fire, his mind was clearly being fucked with....Sporadic thoughts and images, both past and present, would be flashing through his mind at a somewhat rapid pace. Only seeming to increase as time went on.

He would lay there, like this, for a good twenty minutes. Long enough, by their estimations, for the drug to be creating confusion within his mind to some degree along with an intense and steady pain. Though the pain was more to disorient further than to cause any real physical affects. No, that was still to come, just a matter of time.

[Legion]

As Patrick was led to the van he saw that other one. That experiment that he fought with, the one that had attacked Kazumi. Lip twitching as if he were going to growl and bare his teeth. He hated his present company already. The ones that had threatened the life of his wife and daughter twice now. One who had attacked his wife. Needless to say, his eyes were still golden as he thought of what he was going to do with the both of them, and anyone behind all of this or remotely involved with this. They would die, it didn't matter how long it took, or how much it cost him personally. They threatened what he held dear to him, and were still threatening them. Imprisoning him again after he had been freed. They would die, and the ones most involved, it would be slow.

As Patrick was led to the van he'd sigh. Knowing what awaited him in the van. Either a bag over the head, or being knocked out somehow. He wanted to resist, but the threat of men going to his house and taking or killing his family was too high. Well, he figured that a form of passive resistance would be alright. Telling them he was not going quietly, or rather complicity. As he stepped into the van he felt arms wrap around his and so he struggled a bit. Shoved an elbow back into some guy's nose on "accident" in the struggle, before he felt that needle in his neck sending him to the dreamworld.

3 hours later

Patrick would wake up, slowly and groggily, groaning at the throbbing of his head and wrist, and at the bright white light in his eyes. That would be only momentarily as he quickly began to try and figure out where he was and what was happening. As groggy as he was, his life had trained him that what he was feeling meant little. What mattered was figuring out your surroundings as quickly as humanly possibly and reacting accordingly. So even before the drug had cleared, instinct had his eyes searching, body figuring out what he could and couldn't do.

It quickly became evident that he was strapped down, wrists, ankles and waist. He could still move his head and look around, but all that really provided for him was a view of was the white room he was in, the straps holding him, an IV in his left arm. There was a burning in his right arm at his bicep, one that wasn't from the broken wrist, though he couldn't figure out why. There were the sounds of monitors and people moving and speaking quietly behind him, though he couldn't figure out what any of them were saying. Oh, and did he mention the electrodes? His eyes rolled at that one. His favorite. Telling him what was coming soon enough.

He didn't know what the IV was pumping into his arm, but it didn't take to long to find out what the drug did at least. At first the feeling in his body was one of uncomfort, for no discernible reason, other then the possibility of it being a drug. It couldn't be anything else really. Burning would slowly begin to develop in his veins, definitely the drugs. As his body began to light on fire Patrick would work to control his breathing. But as he did he couldn't help but remember certain things from his past, things that he had no reason to remember, or even think of at a time like this. Mind and images shifting rapidly, for no explanation, other the the drugs.

An image of the wings on his back, blood red paint spray painted on a wall, a symbol of him as the angel of death a terror to the underworld. An image of a beautiful baby girl, Ruth Leigh O'Connor. An image of his mother's lifeless body, comforting smile on her cold face, looking at him as his hand still gripped her. An image of his beautiful wife in the act of making love, an image of Zea's disgusting accusing glare. Further images of past and present rushing through his mind, forcing their way in. But Patrick was use to this kind of mental torture. It was nothing though, compared to what he had been through in the past. What he endured for years, and now he had a foundation, making it easier still to fight, for now.

The pain was comforting actually. Giving him clarity actually, yeah it hurt like hell but he focused on the pain. Using it as a spring board to fight against the mental assault. Thinking of moments in time, specifically to remember. To stabilize himself in his foundation. Forcing himself to remember Kazumi's fingers tracing the scar on his face, smiling at the thought, albeit in pain. Remembering his daughter's grip on his thumb the day she was born. Remembering it so vividly his thumb twitched at the memory. Forcing himself to remember these things, to burn them into his memory. Somewhere that no matter how hard they tried that they wouldn't be able to get to. That they wouldn't be able to take from him...

[Azura]

"Ah, I see you are finally awake." The man from the van would speak up as he came around to the side of Patrick, a white mask covering the lower potion of his face, a white strip at the top of his nose from being his in the face on the way here. Dressed in full hospital scrubs he was soon joined by two other men and a set of nurses, two on either side of him. Looking down at Patrick, all of them decked out in full surgical room attire and all of them rather antsy save for the one man lead the little group. That much evident in their eyes.

"See how he fights the drug? Ninety five percent of subjects we have brought in have not been able to do so. That is why he chose this one. Everything we recorded at the school indicated that this one would be perfect for this test....and as you have seen, his blood is very receptive to the chemicals." Of course they had already taken samples of his blood to test the various chemicals on, to see if they would bond with his blood like they had Experiment 1511's. Every test thus far had been successful.

"Yes, but are you certain that this one will do what we say. You know how 1511 refuses any order unless we force her hand. We cannot risk another rogue agent we are forced to keep under control." A female voice coming from the man's right, her eyes full of a rather hard, cold look. It was clear she had been doing this long enough to stop seeing the people on the tables as people at all, just experiments with numbers, nothing more.

"I have made sure to manipulate the chemicals just slightly, and I assure you that I have taken every precautionary measure to make sure that his memories are erased, depleted." A firm nod given, his eyes shifting around to the rest of the staff to reassure them of his abilities and that he knew what he was doing.

"But what if he escapes after the treatment? You know the casualty rate when 1511 escaped. It was damaging to our ranks, set us back four months in research." Another female voice, this one a bit softer, a bit more hesitant. Though she wasn't scared of what they were doing, she was scared of what lay on the table between them, that much evident by the look in her eyes.

"The problem will not arise. I have already derived a special chemical that will keep his mind in a constant state of disarray. Then, even when he does find clarity at night, it will render him far too weak to do anything with the ability he obtains." Already the doctor was going about switching out the IV, feeding a new line into the IV and grinning beneath his mask as he did. The drug that now began to pump into Patrick's arm would be ten times that of what he had just been administered. If anything it was dangerously close to the drug that he had given Kazumi time and time again, the numbers on the bag to the IV indicating as much. Off by one letter. Nothing more.

From there they would allow the drug to work, about twenty minutes of idle chatter behind him as they moved away, numbers, statistics, various failed experiments. Though one thing they kept fretting over was definitely Experiment 1511. "What if she decided to help this one too? You are bonding them together are you not?"

"Nonsense. She won't mess with this one, not when it will spare her torment." A small chuckle given at how absurd the woman was being.

"You really think she is that selfish? I have not seen such actions exhibited by her. In fact I have seen nothing but good from that one." The other woman speaking up, her tone skeptical. Though about this time the drug would be kicking in full gear, pain that felt like flesh being ripped away from bone starting to tear through his body. His mind, a fucked up mess of images and intense confusion. Everything should have been a complete and utter mix of past and present, blurring the lines of reality and forcing certain things back and forth within his mind.

Then, just when the pain could not possibly get any worse, it would cease all together, leaving the body completely numb and the mind to work all on its own...with nothing more to focus on than what was going on inside of it. Only then would they return to see if it was indeed working as they had hoped...if not, they had plenty of back ups in their lab.

[Legion]

Patrick's eyes shot to the man who spoke. Mind still cluttered but he was pretty sure he knew, or at least knew of this guy. The guy in the van right? That sounded right, but recalling things from the past was getting increasingly harder. That man seemed calm, cool and collected, the others, not so much. The others seemed a little nervous. Something that mad Patrick grin a little, even through out all the pain but he wasn't sure exactly why. Although an image of him torturing some woman gave him some clarity in that. The image was vague but Patrick knew that he had been doing it because he wanted her to give up, make her suffer so much that she'd kill herself to make it stop. A little more complicated and evil then that but that was the gist Patrick remembered. Perhaps that was why he grinned, looking at one of the fearful in the eyes. Because the truth was, that he was a monster, how much of one? Well there was no telling how much about him they knew.

Then the doctor began speaking about him as if he weren't there, were some sort of a test subject. Which Patrick was, but the bothersome fact was that he was talked as if he weren't human. It made Patrick growl, but at this point it was difficult to tell if he was growling at the man or the pain of the drugs burning up his veins. When that other woman spoke, that angered him too. She spoke and looked at him as lesser then human. Even in his confusion and rushing of memories his centering on Kazumi's touch and Ruth grasping his thumb helps him hold onto clarity. Kept him centered. Enough to laugh at the woman's words and actions, "Ye look at me as though I weren't human. That's how ye cope right? Ye're pathetic. Never once have I tortured or killed anybody thinking of them as anything less then human. Pathetic, simply pathetic"

Although then the doctor spoke again Patrick started to think of his memories again. Focusing on the feel of Kazumi's hand on his face, the feel of Ruth's tiny little hand around his thumb. Remembering how it made him felt, loved, like a protector. Like the center of their worlds, important. Those were his most cherished memories and he'd keep them thank you very much. Hiding them away in a place that they'd never be able to reach.

The next nurse spoke up, asking what would happen if he escaped, Patrick knew the truth, not if he escaped, when he escaped. The fear of him was clear in her eyes. To which Patrick would not dissuade. In fact he encouraged it. Even through the pain he gave a sick little grin at her. Eyes very clear what he intended to do. He fully intended to kill her, slowly, very slowly. Very painfully. His intents, fully shown in his face. No matter what it took, no matter how long it took. Everyone in this room would die, that determination shown clearly on his face.

As the doctor elaborated on what he was doing, there was something about new abilities? What was with that? It was something that Patrick didn't have the capacity to consider at the moment as he watched another series of drugs placed in his IV. As he looked at the bag, there was nothing that Patrick saw as relevant until he flashed to the night that he saved Kazumi. The numbers on the plastic pouch flaring in his mind. The numbers of his drug pouch in front of his eyes telling him that there was only one difference. One number. It only made Patrick remember his two treasured memories that much harder as they discussed some woman who was meaningless to Patrick at this point, other then she might help him.

At this point though, that ever the Doctor had given him hand him wracking in pain. Feeling like he was being flayed. The pain was so bad he'd let out a growl, back arching at the pain, not even able to feel the pain of his wrist as he pressed against his restraints. His mind was on fire now to. At this point he wasn't sure how old he was. There were times when the memories were so strong he thought he was with the orphan gang again. Other times he though he was with the organ harvesters. One thing was certain though. He was Patrick O'Connor. There was never any doubt of that. And he was loved and cared for.

Still though he violently shook in pain against his restraints, the pain growing worse and worse. Mind racing, though there was never any doubt as to who he was. When the pain finally stopped it came as such a surprise that Patrick tensed up as if another wave were about to come on, before collapsing back on the table. Fully relaxed as his mind continued to race, though without the pain it was easier to fight against, focusing on those memories he had burned into his mind...

[Azura]

The doctor would come back around after a long moment and then nod to the nurse. "Alright, we will start with sequence one and then tomorrow move onto phase two. He will be dosed with enough of this to make sure that he doesnt try to do anything funny. Besides, we all know how pathetic 1511 is after she dies." A little roll of his eyes, speaking about the girl as though she were nothing, though the others showed a clear sense of fear at the mere mention of her name, well her experiment number anyways.

Moving a small table closer to him, the doctor would pick up the first syringe, looking at it and then down at Patrick. Oh, they had heard him just fine, but they didn't bother to answer him. They had learned long, long ago if you engaged the newer ones in conversation is caused problems later down the road. Though the doctor would speak now, directly to him. "This is just a little something to help with that memory problem you seem to be having." Beneath his mask he would grin and then inject the syringe into the IV.

It would take about five minutes for it to travel through his system and into his brain, no pain really felt other than the dull throb in his temples and behind his eyes that signaled a massive headache coming on. The drug? Quite simply it attacked the neurons of the brain in a manner that would render previous thoughts and images useless. Some people around the lab nicknaming it white out, but a few others picking more ominous names like "mind destroyer" or "blackout". In fact it was this very thing that had fried poor Raven's brain. But, they had already tested it on Patrick and knew that his body could take it. Yes, they would simply wipe out all those fuzzy little memories of his and replace them with new ones...Better ones. The affects would be slow, but it would be hard to ignore them. The mind starting to swim, things becoming fuzzy and out of focus as far as mental images went...certain things starting to slip away. Likely it would take more than one dose, if he fought, but it wouldn't take too much. They had too many years perfecting this shit down to a science. Literally.

Next, once that syringe was done, he would lift another, this one looking a bit more ....dangerous...If for no other reason than the labels on the outside of the syringe...Bright warning labels, toxic symbols, the works..Yet without hesitation he would begin to inject it. "Now, this one is going to hurt. A lot." He had a little chuckle in his voice as he said it. As for what was in the syringe, well it was a mixture of both the chemical that induced Qi, the original formula, and mixed in with it was a bit of Azura's blood. They needed that in there to make damn sure this one didn't die as well as to give them another handle on that little bitch.

The pain? Well that would be like what he had previously been feeling, times ten, and it would be debilitating. If for no other reason than his body was starting to shut down and a distinct, and horrible pain would be felt coming from his back and shoulders area. Though, they didn't seem to care, instead opting to wheel the bed out of the lab and down the hall pushing it into an empty room and shutting the door.

Only then would the straps be released...allowing him to move as he could, which would yeah, not be much due to the drugs they were using to keep him weak. But, it was better than being strapped down. The doctor peeking in as he waited with anticipation. "It should be working right....about..." A sharp, fear filled and pained scream would erupt from down the hall, clearly that of a woman..."Now...."

He would then turn and head off. The room he left Patrick in would have images on the wall, but nothing good. Blood, death, pain and suffering surrounded him now, everywhere he looked, should he choose to. Suggestive images on an increasingly impressionable brain.

Azura screamed out again as she collapsed onto the floor, having just gotten out of the shower to get that dye crap out of her hair, returning it to is bright red color. Another wave of pain ripped through her and instantly she recognized it.

Death.

It was drawing closer, and yet she had no logical explanation for it other than she was...well...dying. The thought scaring her as she screamed out one more. Unable to form a word, even though she tried to call out for Raven. Tears streaking down her face as her hands gripped the sides of her head, the pain that shot through there so immense that she had to question if she had ever felt anything like it before.

All over she trembled, her wings springing from her back to wrap around her, to try and protect herself...though from what she could not say. Then came the other familiar traits of death...cold, slowed breathing...organs shutting down painfully slow....thoughts slowing...She yelped this time, no longer able to scream....drawing closer and closer to death's door. Not sure she would come back this time and completely unaware, at the present time, that down the hall somebody else was feeling every single thing she did in return...like an endless loop playing back and forth between them, something neither one could stop or even try to understand at this very moment.

[Legion]

Darn, they weren't going to react huh? That was no fun. What was the point of being tortured if you couldn't piss off your captors. But then again, that's why you never answered questions that your victim asked. Never gave them anything. Least they were smart enough for that Patrick figured. Less fun for him though. The truth remained, he was going to murder all of them. Every last one. More angry at the fact that his wife and daughter had been threatened as opposed to himself. Although all this talk about 1511 made him curious. Even through this mental haze as he lay there on that table he couldn't help but think loud and clear:

'Find 1511'

The doctor then told him that he was going to give him something for those memory problems that he was having. Somehow, even through the fog, Patrick knew that it wasn't going to be helping him. No, it was going to make things worse. Hell right know he didn't even know what age he was, but that didn't change his response, the one finger salute from each hand, and a growled, "Go fuck yerself!"

As he pushed the drug in Patrick watched, lying there motionless as after the five promised minutes that head throb began to come on. A little after that it became harder to think. It was weird to, the flashes through his past were slowing down. They became irrelevant, and it was harder and harder to call them up. After a few minutes it felt like he was drunk. Everything was in a swirl, a haze. It was difficult to focus. It was difficult to recall anything really. His name he still remembered. Patrick O'Connor. He remembered he was loved, and he was a protector. There was a woman, she was his wife, though he was having difficulty remembering her name. The way she touched him though, on his face. A scar he had. There was nothing but love and affection for him. And he had a daughter. Her name was Ruth? O'Connor. Same last name as his at least. Her name easier to remember because it was his. He remembered that she was the center of his world, and he was the center of hers. He remembered this only because he remembered the feeling of that little hand closed around his thumb.

Things were very slow for him now. Each moment felt like an eternity. But it was a good eternity. There were good thoughts and good feeling, even through the headache. He wanted to smile, but he dared not. He didn't know why, it was instinct maybe, but something forbade him from showing how happy he was. But at the same time he knew something was terribly wrong. But he couldn't place his finger on it so he was happy instead, he didn't show it though.

Then there was that next syringe, that Patrick heard the Doctor talk about. That it was going to hurt a lot, and Patrick had no reason not to believe him. It was bright there were lots of warning on it. And so Patrick growled, angered, though he still couldn't help but think of his happy memories. There was a bit of a struggle and a few growled curses, all very vitriolic and meaningful but to be honest Patrick didn't care. He had this desire to get out, but he wasn't sure why. It took him a minute to figure out that it was because he could have more of those memories, if he could only get out. It brought him just enough back to reality before.

He growled out in pain. He had never, at least not to his knowledge at the present, felt anything like it before. His back arched up in pain, as if he was being prodded by a bayonet there. Violently shaking against his restraints, growling curses and the like. As he fought and struggled against the pain that he was beginning to have difficulty remembering the cause of he felt himself moving. Feeling like he was floating as lights moved by overhead of him.

Suddenly he felt it stop. Time having no meaning to him that floating, and that pain, it seemed to go on forever until it stopped. Restraints released, as Patrick continued to fight against the pain, though he was weakened significantly at this point. He would however manage to roll off the bed, actually letting out an "oof" as he hit the ground.

Patrick was in too much pain to notice his wrist as he feebly tried to crawl. The images making him thing he was trying to crawl through blood and guts. Trying desperately to get to the happy memories that people couldn't take away. Who was trying to take them away? He didn't know but they were. Continuing to imagine himself crawling through blood and suffering, unfazed by the death that surrounded him. The screams of actual people he had heard die coming into play. But he wasn't fazed. For some reason this only seemed normal. Natural. Like an old friend really, that you hadn't seen in so long, though you remembered the feeling of being with.

Patrick imagined himself crawling a great many miles towards a white light, pain wracking through him. In reality he had only made it a foot, if that. Until finally he couldn't crawl anymore, in reality or his mind. The white light only surrounding him to turn into fire. He knew he should go on, he was just so tired. So he laid his head down. Allowing the flames that were surrounding him begin to consume him.

Closing his eyes, sighing out that last breath, he couldn't help but feel a burning sensation. Thinking it was from the flames that were consuming him, but the truth was it was the drug. Feeling the flames burning the rest of him away, eternally it seemed as his vision finally faded he couldn't help but think, that he deserved this, why? He wasn't sure. But he deserved this...

And somewhere a baby cried, inconsolably for something her mother wouldn't be able to understand, yet...

[Azura]

Azura felt like she was in the worst pain of her life. No death had been like this and as far as she knew, there was no reason for her to be dying. A delayed reaction to the drugs from the last test? Did they slip her something? She couldn't think. She couldn't breath. Tears began to dry as her eyes refused to cry anymore. Screams reduced to nothing but soft whimpers of pain and suffering as she curled up within the confines of those black wings and began to drift off....and yet as she did, she realized that there were thoughts...thoughts that were not her own.

She gripped her head tighter, and shook it slightly. She didn't know these things, she had not lived these things. She didn't know those people. She screamed one last time before her hands fell limply away from her head and collapsed upon the floor, the tips of her fingers twitching just slightly as the warmth and that bright white light began to surround her. A sigh given, her last breath expelled as her vision began to disappear and instead was consumed by that bright white light.

Then, just like that, she was gone....Like so many other times before. Only this time, she didn't think she would be able to climb her way back....it just felt different...It didn't feel like her death...And that alone made no sense to her what so ever.

Two Hours Later[/u]

A sharp gasp would be heard from within room 1511, as though the person inside was struggling to stay alive, but in reality she was struggling to come back to life. Her hand weakly, shakily moving to grip her chest as her heart began to pound so hard and heavily within her chest. God....it always hurt so bad when it did that, a little wince given as one foot would push against the floor in order to roll her onto her back, wings splayed open as she looked up at the bright white lights of her room, the ones she found such comfort in.

She was alive...Oh thank God. Her eyes closing and a single hand coming up to push her hair back out of her face, feeling her flesh begin to warm under her touch. It was possibly the best feeling in the world for somebody who strove so hard to stay in the light, to stay away from the darkness......and yet...no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than her eyes would shoot open and her brow furrow...

She...She....

Pushing her hand against the floor, she forced herself to sit up, looking down at the long white dress that she wore, which flowed down in soft waves over her legs to her feet....enough to pool on the floor if she stood...Yet that was not what she was looking for, in fact...she didn't know what she was looking for...

Her head lifting, she looked about her room...White walls, white fixtures, white bed...white lights...None of it was what she....she...needed?

The thought startling her as she closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her forehead and shaking it slightly, a struggle to try and figure this out, having never felt like this when she woke from a death before. Finally, after a moment, she would push herself onto her hands and knees...crawling toward the far wall of her room. No real reason for doing so other than she...needed to...She felt that she just had to....

Her head resting against the wall once she got there, so exhausted from the death, from the resurrection. Yet even as the exhaustion threatened to consume her, she would press her hand against that wall as though there was something on the other side that she needed...Hazel eyes opening to look around her room once more, and finally, as they fell under her bed, she would spot a shadow, one of the few within her room, and a gasp would once again rush past her lips.

Her hand shooting away from the wall as she covered her mouth for a moment, a sudden flash flood of images and thoughts surging in her brain to the point that she pushed herself up and onto her feet, not even realizing she had done it....A few staggering steps taking her to the doorway of her room. She was one of the few they did not bother to lock in, knowing she wasn't going anywhere....well not anywhere important.

Gripping the door frame, she stood there for a moment, her eyes closed as she allowed those thoughts to settle into place. Only then, when they were in place, would her eyes open and her attention shift down the hallway, a sense of need and longing filling her mind and her emotions as she swallowed down past the lump in her throat and stepped out into the hall. Slow, but steady footsteps carrying her down the hall, fingers dragging along each and everyone of the cell doors as she did, eyes closing eventually as what she needed, what she wanted was not something that she could see....No, she knew that she would feel it...Somehow she just knew.

And then, just like that, as her fingers fell upon the door to room 1432...That urge she had felt in her room increasing to the point that she wasn't even sure what to do with it...Of course, her first, delayed response was to grasp at the door handle, to try the door. Not really crossing her mind that it would be locked...Noticing the darkness that came through the small window and the darkness that spilled from under the door...Yet for once, she wasn't scared of it...she..needed it.

Enough so, that she would do the one thing she did not often do. Closing her eyes as she released her physical body and became her true self...that ghostly image of the girl she used to be...Black wings behind her just as transparent as she was...a white light seeming to surround her...and then, just like that, she would step through the door. Finding herself on the other side, the only real light now in this glaring darkness.

But somehow...she felt that this was where she was supposed to be.....[/font]

[Legion]

Patrick gasped loudly for air, quite unexpectedly. As he awoke he expected more fire, more flames, more death. He expected to wake up, his spirit in another, deeper level of hell. But as he gasped out, this was different. This was not hell. At least, it didn't feel like hell. And for some reason, that concerned him. He couldn't figure out why though as he lay there gasping for death in the darkness. What could he remember? Maybe that's what would explain where he was. He was in the complete darkness and it felt like home. But why?

He rolled over onto his stomach, weakly crawling to the corner of the room. Curling up into a ball against the corner of the room, startling himself that he knew where it was. Perfectly, without seeing. Curious. That was very strange, something he began to think on, but answers not coming. But being in the darkness. It felt right. Felt like this was where he belonged. Felt like he had been here his entire life.

That's right Patrick O'Connor was a denizen of the darkness.

That thought kicked memories into his head. Memories of death and destruction. Of Stalking prey in the night. Prey? He hand never thought of them like that before. Like lambs to the slaughter really. That was what he had been called to do, he remembered it now, he was a killer. Unknowingly and unwantedly a grin curled up his lips at that thought. Specifics were hazy but Patrick remembered bloodshed. An uncountable number of bodies, friend and foe. His loved ones, other loved ones, people he had watched die, people he had killed himself. He knew he had been bred to be a killer. That was what he was supposed to be. A chuckle came at that realization and he shook his head.

No, that was not right. He was more then that. He was a hero. He had fought against chaos in a school, in New York? He couldn't remember the name so good, but he remembered it was the most violent school the state had ever seen. Yeah, he was good right? A chuckle at the thought of all that death and suffering, a reminder that as horrible as it had been, as much as he had hated it, his hand never shook. He held onto an ideal, never kill. Patrick's eyes widened in triumph at that. He was good. Another dark chuckle he gave as he remembered his first kill. His hands hadn't shook. He didn't remember what was happening at the time, only that it was at the school he had sworn to protect. That he had his oath. That his hand hadn't shook when he plunged the knife into the man.

Patrick smiled then, he remembered now, the man had been a bad man. Done evil things. The only way to keep evil men from hurting people was to kill them. It had to be done. Smile softening as he realized that he had broken his oath, but he had been young and naive, it was okay. He beamed proudly as headlines flashed of a thousand dead mobsters and other filth in New York. He remembered singlehandedly lowering crime in the city, violent crime, more then the cops ever did. He was a hero. that was proof. He laughed darkly, concurring with himself, though something told him he was off slightly.

He remembered being on a walk somewhere in the middle of the country. He remembered being sad. Someone very special had died. In fear and worry Patrick's hands gripped the back of his head as his forearms pressed against the side of his head, curling up in between his knees. No! She couldn't be dead! The woman who loved to touch his scar, his wife, damn it! Why couldn't he remember he name?! He saw her face, he saw the face of his daughter, Ruth was it? Ruth O'Connor, he saw her holding his thumb. No! They could not be dead. A dark relieved chuckle was given. No, it had been someone else. Someone else that was supposed to be dead that had died. That was why he had been sad. His mind returned to the walk, He remembered seeing a woman on a bridge, knowing that she was going to jump. He didn't save her. But why? Wasn't he a hero who did the right thing? A dark chuckle was given, he knew he wasn't.

No, a hero could have an off day. Besides he hadn't killed her. A dark laugh was given as he remembered finding a woman stuck in a well. Patrick knew instantly he hadn't helped her. That she died, but that wasn't his fault either right? He cackled at the thought. He remembered spitting on her. A sick grin of beauty crossed his face. He remembered how beautiful that had been. He had found his calling, Patrick gasped remembering the people he had maimed and killed for no reason at this point. But he couldn't remember what had happened at the well. A soft malevolent moan was given as he remembered why he had found his calling. When he had spat on that woman, she stopped. She stopped treading water. She sank down into the water. She gave up on living. It had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

A mix of whimpers and dark chuckles came as he remembered torturing so many people, for so long to get that reaction again. He tried everything, perfected the art. Many innocent people died so he could find that beauty. Patrick purred a bit, and whimpered. He remembered gutting orphans after using them as drug mules, selling their organs. He couldn't help but laugh, remembering he told this girl that she was going to see her mommy. The mom was dead, the girl saw her mommy again. But there was a moment of victory Patrick remembered he had only done that to stop it. That he was the only one who could get in deep enough to put an end to it for good. He remembered trying to write his wrongs.

Patrick laughed again, remembering how he ended up being used as a tool of death and destruction again. Patrick sighed. Finally conceded that he belonged in the darkness. That he existed solely for the purpose of killing other people. He couldn't help but feel that that was his purpose. That there was no denying it, no matter how hard he tried. He had no soul. He was simple a killing machine, nothing more then a harbinger of death, destruction and suffering. Patrick sighed, smiling, leaning his head back against the wall. He was okay with this. The darkness was where he belonged. Relief washed over him.

But that was not enough. His head perked up at the thought that he was missing something. Forgetting something? That's right! His wife and daughter were not dead! They needed him. He was alive and he had to get back to them! He had the skill to. He remembered now. Kazumi! She had brought him out of the darkness! Given him a shot at the light! That's what he needed. The light! The darkness was his home but he still had a place in the light. Urgency made him shoot up to his feet, walking towards the door. Kazumi was the light right?

He stood a few feet from the door when someone came through, illuminating his dark home. Patrick covered his eyes at the blinding white light. This was what he needed! This was the first step to getting back to Kazumi, it was coming back so clearly now. Kill everyone who kept him away from Kazumi and Ruth Leigh O'Connor. This had to be Kazumi though right? She was the light that he needed? Without seeing he'd ask, still confident that this was what he needed, "Kazumi?"

Fingers cracked open a bit to see a woman with red hair. This was not Kazumi, his wife did not have red hair, but, his daughter did? How long had he been out? What the fuck was going on? He really died right? Was this his daughter aged to roughly his age? Another questioning word was released from his lips, "Ruth?"

No, that wasn't right either...

Hazel was not the right eye color, Ruth's had been gold, blue and green. Sure Patrick may have heard stories, or at least thought he had heard of children's eye color changing. Probably heard it from his wife. But never to another color, that neither parent had. Patrick looked at her a good long moment, his hand lowering so he could see her better, eyes still squinting at the light he needed, even if he wasn't sure why he needed this woman's. After a long moment he gasped, slowly saying her name, "One Five One One."

Surprising himself tremendously, he had never seen this woman in his life, yet he was never more sure of anything else. This was 1511. He knew it was, though he didn't know why. Patrick slowly said in almost a childish awe, "Ye're supposed to help me."

[Azura]

A sigh of relief washed over her as the darkness did. She wasn't sure why, given she didn't really like the dark, but this dark was different, she could feel it. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, somebody was there and she would let out a small squeak of surprise, suddenly solidifying and slamming back into the door. Those hazel eyes wide with fright. Not like people came up on her every day when she was waking from the dead to crave some strange ass darkness....

He scared the crap out of her. That light paling, yet she kept it surrounding her in a dull, easy glow. Just enough so she could see him...or at least his outline. When he spoke, she would narrow her eyes upon him, her head tilting slightly. The fist name, it sounded familiar, and she would shake her head. Noooo that was not who she was.

Then came the second name, and her eyes would narrow a bit more, curiously, brow furrowing a bit as she slowly, and we are talking very slowly, pushed her hands against the cold steel door and in turn pushed herself away from the door...taking a step or two closer to where he was. Another shake of her head.

No, this couldn't be....The names ringing a bell as she drew closer and brought him into the light. Her eyes once more widening as she gasped and quickly shot her hands up to cover her mouth. No, they hadn't....Shaking her head she stumbled back into the door, those black wings instantly surrounding her, those hazel eyes frozen in fear, peeking up over them and looking upon him even as she felt that unnatural pull toward him.

No. No....NO!

Her hands falling away from her face, balling into fists and falling to her sides as slowly, upon hearing her identification number, she would unfurl those wings from about herself, hesitant to hide them away, in case she needed them. She wasn't sure what they had done to him, but she had a pretty good idea and it was making her stomach turn, very badly. "A...Azura..." Clearing her throat, the words barely able to leave her lips as her voice seemed lodged in her throat. Hell, her breath felt lodged at this very moment.

"I...I d..don't go by m..my number." She would again steel her nerves and take a step closer. True, she doubted they made him instantly stronger than her, that would just be stupid, especially since he still knew the names of his family.....but they had done something and whatever it was set her nerves on edge. In which way, well she wasn't entirely sure. Part of her feared him, but the other part, the much larger, more real part of her...wanted him...

No, that wasn't the right word....

Craved...

The word echoing through her mind and instantly being decided upon as the correct term. However she would maintain her composer, stepping closer, until he would allow no further distance to be crossed and then stopping, her head tilting slightly as she looked him over. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she was looking for something.

Noting the scars on his chest, and that part that craved him overriding pure logic, she reached out and brushed her hand against them. A sudden jolt shooting through her and causing her to jump back almost instantly, retracting her hand like she had just been shocked. However, the jolt had not been pain, but....something else.

Gah! Nothing was making sense, and yet, everything made perfect sense. Fuck!

Pearly white teeth biting down on her lower lip, she would slowly speak up in that same, soft and warm tone she used with everyone else here that was locked in some cell. Or at least, all the new ones that felt so lost. "Wh..What did they do to you? Do you remember?" Looking at him, her fingers twitching...Oh how badly she wanted to touch him...but she refrained. Yet the pull to do so was so strong she could barely contain herself. Very unlike her, the one who spent years gaining composure and never letting anything fracture it, not once. Not until now.

[Legion]

As Patrick came out of his darkness, his hidey hole, so to speak he startled her. Listening to her slam into that door. Normally he'd be taken aback by startling someone like that, or at least offer a quick apology, even if it was fake, but here he didn't. Here he couldn't. There was just something about her. Patrick didn't know anything about this mystery woman and yet he felt this desire for her. Not entirely sure what that desire meant or what it was, only that it was for her. Patrick hadn't met this woman, ever before, this angel, and yet, he wanted her, needed her. In a way he didn't possibly understand. Patrick wanted to say love at first sight but this was so much more deeper then love. He felt he knew her more intimately then that and what confused him was he didn't know why.

But that confused him all the more. He didn't want to feel this. He had a wife, Kazumi, and he loved her very much. She had done so much for him, she was the mother of his child. Patrick loved Kazumi, he didn't want these feeling for this woman, whoever the hell she was. But Patrick knew he needed her. And that confused him.

His eyes still covered from the light, Patrick couldn't help but feel that this was it, this was what he needed as she stepped closer. Her light. For whatever reason he needed it. As she covered her eyes in horror Patrick frowned, was it something he said? He'd only suggested two names. Patrick's eyes were covered but his voice still showed the concern he felt, "What's wrong?"

Patrick couldn't help but stare at her wings. How bizarre were those? Patrick was sure he died, but did he really come back? Weren't angels only in heaven? Furthermore, why was one visiting him? In the darkness? Unless he was not beyond saving or something. This was just getting weirder and weirder. As he realized what here name was, stepping forward she'd give another name. Almost confusing Patrick, she must have given herself a name, or had one when she was taken too. That much was confirmed when she said she didn't go by her number. Patrick heard the fear and he wasn't exactly sure what it was for. But after she finished speaking Patrick would say, "I don't know if I have a number, but my name is Patrick O'Connor."

As she stepped forward Patrick would watch her closely. Intrigue, curiosity and desire written across his face. As she was so close to him Patrick looked on with curiosity as she tilted her head. What was it she was looking for? Did she feel this weird emotion too? It was all so confusing. Why did he want her the way that he did? He had a beautiful wife that love him more then anything and Ruth.

Although when she reached out to touch his bare chest, to touch those scars a shiver ran down his spine. Why he didn't know, because his scars were Kazumi's she knew everyone and he was hers. At the same time, he couldn't deny how much he wanted her. His hand stretching out to grasp her cheek as she moved to touch his scars. When she finally did Patrick felt that same rush she did and pulled back. It had felt so perfect, but he couldn't. He had to get out and get back to Kazumi.

Patrick had to fight not to touch her again, but thankfully that question distracted him, gave him resolve, at least a little. Slowly her question made him think back on what had happened. Which was just the kick start he needed, jolting as memories appeared crisply, "They took me. They made me come here with them. That bitch in the mask made me come here or she was going to kill my wife and daughter. She was from the school. I remember that. Other wise she wouldn't of worn a mask. She didn't talk, either, probably because she can't change her voice. It was her and that big dumb fucker, they attacked the school I was at. Brought me here. I'm going to kill them. For threatening my family. The big one I met before. He attacked my wife when she was pregnant, that bastard. I'm going to murder them and anyone else involved."

Talking about what happened reminded him of his resolve. To get out. To kill them. To make sure that these people would never hurt or threaten his family again. It was the logical choice really. He had to get home. Will overriding everything. Needed to get back home. But he continued anyway.

"They took me here, this doctor and these nurses strapped me to a bed, that bed over there, The nurses were scared but the doctor wasn't," Patrick pointed to it, knowing exactly where it was even if he couldn't see it, "I injected me with some sort of drugs that confused my memories, made them jump around. And then he gave me this drug to try and make me forget. Then this other one that killed me. I think I might of hallucinated a bit, but I'm sure I died, I don't know how and I don't know why, but I'm back. And I have to get back to my wife and daughter. They love me and I love them. They need me. I have to get out so I can kill these people and get back to my family. They have to be safe."

[Azura]

She didn't know what this was, she had never felt anything like this before. She had never known true desire, true longing, and as he asked her if something was wrong, she would shake her head slightly. "Th...They...couldn't have..." It was a lie they told her to scare her. It was a myth. They had not used her to generate more of that crap. They had not actually found somebody it would work on.

Once again her eyes widened with fear, though she was quick to shake her head and the thoughts away. Her tongue lightly brushing over her lips as she drew in a deep, slow breath to calm herself down. Yet then came that touch, but not just on her end...but on his as well. His hand touching her cheek ever so lightly, just enough that her head had time to lean into his touch before she jerked back as did he. Oh no, he felt it too? The panic quickly began to rise, thinking back over everything that they had told her to do.

They had told her to go to the school. Raven was to inject one student they had marked, she the other. But she had a special assignment, she had to grab somebody....He spoke his name and her eyes shot up to meet his once more. No, no, no, no. They had not used her to do this. It was not supposed to be this kind of experiment. It was not supposed to be this! Without even having to look she would point to his arm, the underside of such. "You have one too. We all get them when we first get here." She spoke up in that soft, delicate voice. Nothing more than a hair above a whisper.

She knew the consequences of her being caught in this room, of being caught in any new experiments room. Not something she was willing to go through right now. Yet she asked that question and that seemed to spark a memory in his mind which then opened a flood gate. As he spoke, her eyes became filled with dread. Quickly she shook her head, shooting away from her position at the door and pressing two of her fingers to his lips as her body small frame pressed up against his chest. "Shh...Shh...You can't talk about that stuff here." Now she was whispering. Those hazel eyes looking into his, looking up at him as her breath washed upon his flesh. She hadn't intended to get this close, but the fear of what would happen if they heard him talking like that far outweighed the risk of getting too close.

Or so she had thought.

Now that she was though, she had to struggle to keep her train of thought. Her mouth opening to say something else and her lower lip trembling instead as the words seemed to hang within her chest, refusing to come any further.

Oh God.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and would draw in a deep breath. Thinking, of course, that it always calmed her down. Yet the instant she did she was hit with his scent and if ever in her life she had felt almost too weak to stand it was then.

Shit, shit, shit!

Pull away Azura. Just, back away.

A mental pep talk going on in her mind as she would force her eyes open to look at him once more, teeth capturing her lower lip softly as she struggled to find the will to take a step back. Just, one step. Just enough to put distance between them. Just one single step was all it would take and yet she found herself almost unable to do so.

Finally, after a long moment the words would come, though weak, another whisper, only this time shaky as she absentmindedly leaned in just a bit closer, tip of her nose softly brushing against his jawline. "If they hear you, they will make it worse for you. They don't like it when you talk like that. That stuff, the stuff they gave you first....if messes with your head. They will just keep on giving it to you, over and over again until it works or it destroys your brain."

She caught herself then, pulling her head back and looking up at him with those all too warm and almost innocent hazel eyes, pausing for a half second before she would finally peel herself away from him. It was only a single step....but it was enough for now. Enough to give her time to think. To breath...To...Well she didn't know. But time.

[Legion]

"They couldn't have what?" asked Patrick looking at her confused. He had no idea why they wanted him her. Why it was him specifically that had to be here. He knew that there was some purpose, obviously he was being tested on. But why him? And what exactly were they doing to him? He was completely in the dark, other then the fact that they were trying to erase his memories, and he was apparently being brought back from the dead.

The fear in her eyes concerned him. What was that about? Was she afraid? Obviously but about what? For herself? Why? Was he a threat to her some how? But she was supposed to help him right? Or was she afraid for him? That question was prominent in his mind, though he had not reason to think that she would be, because she didn't have any real reason to. Unfortunately there were only more questions being raised then were answered at this point in time. However there was one question that she did answer, about his number, that he had one. Without having seen it she pointed to the underside of his right arm. Reminding him of the burning he had felt there.

Raising his arm Patrick used her light to look at the underside of his arm. Upon looking he found his number, as was promised by Azura, reading it quietly, "One four three two. That's what my name's supposed to be now?"

Patrick asked the question offhandedly because he eyes moved to that other tattoo on his arm, the ones that were characters. But was it chinese or japanese? Patrick knew chinese, long story there but he did. But something didn't quite seem to fit. And so he vocalized his question, "Èmó?... Demon?"

Patrick looked up at her questioningly. The first character was a bit off, but the last character was spot on. The first was just close enough for him to guess at it though. Really not much difference at all save for the slight variations in the character itself. Could it be japanese then? They did steal the chinese characters for their own language.

But anyway that was irrelevant now. As he started talking about what he remembered them doing to him, what he remembered and he started to tell her his intentions she would race forward pressing her body against him, pressing two finger to his lips. Whispering to him that he couldn't talk about that stuff. Not here. And of course Patrick listened. He knew that she was right. That there were likely devices that were monitoring him or something. Reminding him of times where he had to pretend that he was doing something else, that he was somebody else. His body just naturally slipping into that mode of action. Remembering all the skills he had.

But then there was her pressing against him. Once again he was confused as to why he felt this way. Felt like he knew her his whole life. Felt like, no knew, that he needed her. That he hated to say it, that if felt like love. Something that was so much different then what he felt with Kazumi. Don't get him wrong. He loved Kazumi. He wanted her with all his heart, she was his wife and he loved her. But for whatever reason he couldn't help but, he hated to use the word, feel love for her. There was no reason to, he didn't know her.

Knowing he had a wife to get back to, that he wanted to get back to so desperately kept him from wrapping his arm around her. Fighting back that feeling that he felt towards Azura with the knowledge that when he got out of here he'd never see her again, that feelings would pass. This misplaced feeling of love would pass and his love for Kazumi would continue. But there was a gnawing in the back of his head. That it wouldn't, these feeling were not just transient. But why?

Patrick shivered a bit as she inhaled his scent, he couldn't deny that she was beautiful, but Patrick knew that there was something more. The light was beautiful that emanated from her, but there was something more to it then beauty. It took a moment for Patrick to realize that she was a pure being. At least that was what he felt. She was light he felt like he could never have. He was always struggling in the darkness right? That's where his heart was, surrounded by darkness. There was a sense there that he was always going to be in the darkness, that he was never going to be able to get out. But for some reason she was different. She could offer him a way out. That he didn't have to give into the darkness as he always had. He wasn't sure, he couldn't explain it though.

His resolve was holding on quite well, even through all his feelings of want and desire. That was until she looked up at him. Biting her lower lip, looking up at him with a similar look of desire in her eyes. Patrick leaned down a bit, overcome with the feelings, about the kiss her. Then she moved in leaning to brush her nose against his jawline, making shivers run down his spine. But her whispering brought him back to reality.

Explaining that if they heard him talking about what he was talking about that the people would make it worse for him. It made perfect sense really. Patrick figured in his confusion he had gotten complacent and figured the darkness made him safe. But yeah. What she was saying made sense. He had to be careful. He didn't want his getting out of here to hindered by the mistake of letting them know his plans. And he definitely didn't want his brain fried, that was a given. He didn't want to forget either. Perhaps he could play possum with his memories then? Would that work? Only one way to find out.

When she looked at him though, all those feeling rushed back to him. Those innocent eyes, offering a way out, that was all he could think of. How much he wanted that way out and how much he wanted her, even if he didn't know why he wanted that or why he felt that she could give it too him. But as she finally took that step back his head was pushed back into the game. He had questions that she needed to answer. Shaking his head a bit he'd finally ask in all seriousness, "So what are they doing to me? What do they want from me?"

[Azura]

She shook her head slightly, a little whimper threatening to edge past her lips as she trembled with worry and doubt over what she was about to say. She didn't know if she was right, or at least she told herself that, but standing here now, looking at him, she could not help but think that she was. How could she not be? All the signs were there, all the threats brought to life in a single solitary being......Him.

As he looked at that mark she had known, without hesitation, to be on his flesh, her eyes would drift there too. A little quirk of her head as he seemed to know its meaning. She herself had similar markings, and yet she did not know what they meant...it wasn't like she got a top notch education in here, if anything it was just slightly above average...A sudden curiosity to know what her mark meant...though she didn't think she had to guess at this point, she already knew...If his meant Demon, then her own would mean......

Angel....

That very nickname that Raven used with her since he was a young boy. The one that all the others used with her..A little gasp given at the realization and the further understanding of what had been done to him, to her...Knowing that she had to say something. But how?

Swallowing down past that lump which was again lodging in her throat, she would open her mouth to speak...But no sooner had she done that, then he would start to speak about what he remembered and she would, without thinking, press up against him in order to silence him. At first she had thought nothing of it, just a desire to silence him and to keep him from making a mistake that could possibly cost him his mind, or worse...But then, as her body pressed into his, as she felt herself pressing into the firmness of his chest, she would realize what a huge mistake she had made.

Oh how she struggled then. Struggled to try and come up with something to explain the things she thought....the things she felt. Struggled to push those very feelings and thoughts away, and yet no matter how hard she tried to do just that, they just seemed to return that much faster...that much stronger. Nothing would have pleased her more than to pull back, to get away from him and to get a hold of herself. But she couldn't, she needed this....She needed him....

Those eyes looking up at him, she noted the way that he began to lean in, her entire body tensing as she felt her heart speed up and her breath once again choose to escape her lungs. Wh..What was he doing? Her hazel eyes widening as she felt as though time had ceased to exist, as though nothing else was going on except for this moment. She...She didn't know, nor did she understand...So, with no other option she had turned her head, inadvertently and absentmindedly leaning in so that those final words could be whispered.

She shivered, though not of her own accord. The knowledge that it was his reaction to her seeming to hit her almost instantly, and though she found it odd, she also knew that it was right. Confusion seeming to wash over her, searching her soul for what it was that made this feel so different, that made her feel so different. Because that was how far this went...if not further...It was more than just an attraction, it was more than just a desire...or a basic need.....In this moment, she would have wagered that she could easily go without oxygen easier than she could go without him......

Then it hit her, what she felt...or better yet, what she did not feel. She didn't feel that all consuming guilt or sorrow that always seemed to weigh down on her for her past actions of violence. She didn't feel that need to punish herself mentally for every wrong doing she had ever committed...She felt....peace. Actual, honest to God, peace for the first time in her life and it was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.

That was when it hit her, dead on, without a doubt, what it was they had intended to do all along. Never to replace her but to....to ground her. She took a step back, those big hazel eyes being filled with a very light film of tears as his next set of questions were posed. Shaking her head softly, she would bite her lower lip and look at him...not sure what to say, how to explain. She knew what she needed to say, but the words just seemed to escape her.

A long moment of silence drug out as she tried to think, before she would finally come to the conclusion on what she had to do...Slowly, with a bit of hesitation in her step, she would come toward him. Her small hand reaching out and grasping his, holding the back of it within her tiny grasp, palm up...With her eyes upon his now, she would give him a look that asked him to trust her as her free hand raised and she pressed one of her nails against his palm, pressing down hard enough to break the skin and then dragging it slowly along until she had formed a rather distinct cut along the center of his palm.

The whole time, her eyes remained on his. He might have thought she was doing it to hurt him, for whatever reason, but as her nail drug along, tears would continue to build within her eyes until a couple of them spilled down her cheeks. It was destroying her inside to hurt him, and though it now made sense where these feelings came from, it was not helping her to process them. She had never, ever, ever felt anything even remotely close to human love and yet this went so far beyond that...this..this was something else entirely.

Once she was done, she would pull her hands back, releasing his as she trembled a bit harder, her breath catching in her throat as she raised that she had used to cut along his flesh with, holding it open, palm facing outward, toward him. Along her palm would be a cut identical, down to the last detail, as the one she had placed on him moments before. "They made us one...."

Closing her palm as she shook her head, lowering it as well as dropping her gaze from his. A little nod given toward his palm...."You can heal it...." She spoke softly, just a whisper as not to be heard, but still, she was clearly feeling bad for what they had done. For what they had used her to do. "They...They took my blood...my DNA...and they infused that stuff with it...I...I never thought they would use it. I never thought they would....I..." She whimpered and a sudden wave of guilt would wash over her, so strong that she stumbled back into the door, trembling as she balled her little hands into fists at her sides. "I am so sorry...."

She was sorry for this, for what she had done to get him here, for existing....There were so many things she was sorry for, and yet even as she felt them she realized the feelings were disappearing as whatever darkness was within him consumed them. Her one hand, which was not hurt, would reach down and scoop up the skirt of her dress, slowly working it up her thigh as she swallowed down past her fear. Eventually, she would come to a stop, exposing that tattoo on her inner thigh as she turned her leg just slightly. "Angel?" Her eyes hesitantly looking up at him...if he could read his, he could read her own, and if he could, perhaps things would click for him like they were for her. She could just try and hope for the best...

[Legion]

As Patrick read his tattoo he looked to her. So his meant demon huh? What the hell was that supposed to mean? There was a distinct knowledge that it was there, not just to be cool. No, whatever they were doing to him, he highly doubted that it was there solely for the sake of being cool, even if they wanted to use him as a weapon. Patrick also had this gnawing, in the back of his mind that he had an idea of why he was demon. There was something there, laughing at him, at the idea of it. The idea that he was unable to fully comprehend it yet. But there was a part of him that knew he didn't want to understand. There was the hope that if he ignored it, it would go away. Patrick knew that that would not work, that it would be meaningless. Furthermore, he wanted to know what was happening to him.

The look on her face at the realization of what his tattoo meant, well she knew something. More then she was letting on at this point. To say that it concerned Patrick, well that was a bit of an understatement. He couldn't be more concerned. He wanted nothing more then to know exactly what it was that she did. Why the characters that made up the the word demon made her react in such away. What exactly was going on, what they were doing to him. He wanted to know why he felt this way about her, why she was the only one that could give him what he needed. That feeling that he was good, that he was more then a monster, or fuck it, a demon in the darkness.

As she pressed into his chest to silence him he'd give a slight gasp. Shocked that it felt so good, no, it felt so right. Once again, he didn't know why. But for whatever reason, he knew, that he loved her. Not knowing why, that was killing him. Because if he knew, then he'd change that. He was Kazumi's, only Kazumi's. But why then did he need her? Need her in a sense that was not metaphorical in the least, there was an actual need that was far more then physical, even though Patrick couldn't really pinpoint it.

As he leaned in to kiss her, he noticed that she did too. That she tensed up in a manner that wasn't one of fear. That it was questioning, but not pushing away. But her head turned, so that she could whisper out those words. Keeping them from kissing, from doing something that Patrick would regret.

As time passed on Patrick couldn't help but wonder, did she feel the same way? That he did? He couldn't deny that it would be easier if she didn't. If those feelings were unrequited. He could decide to not feel that way right? Patrick wondered if she had just as much need for him, that he did for her. Once again he hoped the answer was no. But there was a part of him that was satisfied. That told him, yes, she did.

As Patrick asked those next questions he watched her take a step back. As if she had had some big revelation. Watcher her eyes well up with tears. He couldn't help but tilt his head, curiously. Wondering what exactly it was. The curiosity on Patrick's face only grew as she stepped forward to him, watching her grasp his hand. Watching her carefully as her eyes looked up, asking him to trust her. Patrick gave her a nod, knowing that he really had no other choice, feeling that she wouldn't really hurt him, that feeling in his gut speaking.

As her nail dug into his flesh Patrick hissed, green eyes still looking to hers. The pain was nothing really. Patrick had felt much worse earlier and before. Hell, he had a scar on his neck to prove that love making could be a rowdy experience. But he watched as tears ran down her face as she did that to him. She actually felt bad didn't she? As Patrick looked her in the eyes he frowned. He had forgotten what that felt like. But with her, he felt no urge to kill, to be spiteful or destructive.

Patrick looked at her very intently as she pulled her hand away, wondering what this exercise in pain was meant to show. As she raised her hand he gasped in shock. Looking at the same wound she had left on his hand. That was impossible, how could she possibly do that? Well Patrick had to admit he had to suspend belief at this point because he had died and come back already, and so had his wife but still. This was crazy. At her words Patrick would frown. They were one? No.

No.

No.

Still, he listened as she continued. He could heal his wound? What? That was crazy. But he continued, she seemed to know more then him, and the simple fact that she had walked through a locked door gave him credibility in his book. Listening to her how they had used her DNA with his or something. What she was saying seemed to imply that it made him like her? Something like that? But he was in darkness. She was in light. Looking for every excuse, getting visibly upset. Hand shooting to the scar on his neck, hushed tone that was still indicative of his emotions, "No! I belong to Kazumi. I am hers and she is mine. We have a daughter, Ruth Leigh O'Connor."

Patrick took a few steps away from her to the back corner, holding his hand up, fingers grasping a wedding band, "We're married, I can't be one with you. I'm one with her."

Patrick leaned up against the wall, leaning his head back. This really was fucked up. Really, really fucked up. As much as he hoped this was a bad dream he knew it was not. Eyes looking to her as she pulled her skirt up, to expose her thigh, revealing more characters. Patrick could make them out from here. Yes, she was right. The horrible realization that this wasn't some sick joke starting to sink in. This was real. They were trying to break him and Kazumi up it seemed. Sighing as he slid down to his ass, replying quietly, "Tiānshǐ. Yes, it means angel."

[Azura]

Azura honestly wasn't sure what to think at this point. Everything was a clouded mess in her mind, something that she knew should make sense, and that did on some level, and yet on the surface everything was still just as jumbled up and broken as before. It wasn't her memories, it wasn't her real knowledge of what was happening, that caused this. No, it was her emotions. They were so out of whack, so confusing and different than anything she had ever felt before.

As she cut into his palm, she felt the pain dragging along her hand. Every last bit of it hurt her just as much as it had hurt him, though perhaps to her, the pain was more powerful because she knew that she was inflicting it upon him. It killed her inside, just as much if not more than it would have killed her to do such a thing to Raven. Still, she knew that it had to be done. Swallowing past her guilt and her hesitation to complete the act, then pulling back to show him the results of what she had done.

Needless to say, he was not happy. His eyes widening, his hand shooting to the side of his neck and his feet carrying him back and into the corner of the room. His reaction in turn startling her and sending her back against that door, the seemingly only place she could find solace right now that did not involve her getting too close to him. Yet as he spoke, the determination and the panic in his voice, she felt her heart breaking, shattering. Not because she wanted to.

No....She knew that he had a wife and a child. She could not blame him one bit. If anything she would have felt bad if he didn't care. No, it broke because that was the only emotional response she could make to him reacting in such a way, it was the only reaction emotionally...that made sense...that felt....right...

She closed her eyes, combating more tears as they threatened to spill down her face. Knowing that she had to go, she...she couldn't keep doing this to him, and her being here was only making it worse. She knew that...."I...I am sorry. I do not wish to make you feel this way....I...I do understand why I love...." Her eyes opened as that sudden realization hit her, words cut short as she literally choked on the remainder of them. She didn't know what to think...she didn't know what to do.

That innocent light in her eyes seeming to say just that as did the racing of her heart within her chest. God it still hurt so much, enough that she wanted to collapse right then and there....but somehow she stayed upright, through the pain and the flutters in her chest. Managing to lift her skirt if for no other reason than to know that she was right in what she was assuming. Then, as he confirmed it, sinking to the floor there in that corner, she would turn her head away slightly...almost certain her legs were about to give out, her breath leaving her once more as the sorrow and guilt washed over her, quickly eaten up by that darkness he held, but there for enough time to debilitate her more and more....

One small hand pressing against the door she would turn, her back toward him, wings tucked away for now and her little hand releasing her skirt to fall and pool upon the cold floor beneath her bared feet. "I...I should go..." A deep breath as she closed her eyes, starting to revert back to that ethereal being she had been when she first came here. "If you need an...anything...I will know..." A soft nod, words whispered though edged with a soft whimper that spoke of some form of Earth shattering pain. Still, she would struggle to right herself so that she could make her leave, hesitating for but a second....not wanting to go, but knowing she had to....