Phillip greeted Frank as if they were old friends. They were after all, getting ready to be very well acquainted Frank looked shocked to see him. Frightened even. His eyes fluttered with the sheer ecstasy of seeing that fear. Before he lost his advantage he brought the syringe that he'd been concealing up and pushed Franky Boy through the doors. A quick jab and the man was down.
Goddamn was this man heavy. Phillip was sweating getting him down a long corridor and into Franks shitty one room studio apartment. He hefted the man through one more doorway and then left him in a pile on the floor. Wiping the sweat off of his brow he stood over the man and gave him a hard rib cracking punt to the chest. "Oh Lover boy. It's going to be a beautiful night." He lifted his gaze double checking all of the things he'd set up earlier. "Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." His words were crisp. Calm. Even if he was talking to a doped up unconscious man.
He straightened the plastic tarp on the floor and the wheelchair in the center, Tie wraps waiting in an organized line nearby. He took a deep breath and rolled Frank over before awkwardly slinking him into the chair and securing him into place. He even doubled up on his wrists and ankles, God knows how strong this Ox might be when he was awake. He snaked his way around the apartment pulling an array of beautiful shiny things from their homes. A knife from the kitchen. A long rasp from a tool box in the corner. A wire brush from the closet near the bathroom. A heavy wrench from under the sink.
The implements were arranged on a card table. Even in the dim light of the apartment you could make out their identifiable shapes. Phillip walked by the table over and over again. Each passing he delicately ran his index fingers over the curves and lines of each piece, as if memorizing their contours. A slow euphoric smile spread over his face. Pupils expanded, eyes nearly all black, in sudden shock contrast to his pale blond hair. He made another circle around the table then ended up next to Frank. He pushed his glasses up on his face and leaned over the big dark man.
"Wakey wakey big Franky" During his last pass to the table, he picked up the kitchen knife, which he now plunged into Frank's shoulder. It slipped in. No resistance. Phillip quivered with excitement. "I never dreamed" he said softly, but the sound was drowned out by Frank's muffled screams against his gag. He twisted the handle just a touch and a new series of screams erupted against the restraint in Frank's mouth. "Don't worry love." He patted the top of Frank's head, but left the knife plunged in the mans shoulder "We'll call your girlfriend, but we're going to have a little fun first." and with that, He reached over and plucked the wire brush from the table.
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Steph blinked in the half light of her darkened bedroom. She lay there a moment slightly disoriented, trying to put her finger on what it was that woke her. She tilted her head, eyes still closed, pale face lost in a sea of black waves over her pillow as she listened intently. City sounds. Far off traffic. Air brakes gushing a few blocks over as a late night bus picked up and dropped off on Main street. She nearly faded back out, when a soft keening sound made her open her eyes and sit straight up in the bed. At first a panic settled over her. Someone was in here. In her home. In 'her' room. Her hands fumbled quick and sloppy against her night stand lamp. The light flicked on and her eyes flitted all over the room before landing on her broken bird.
"Milane." The word sounded like a summoning. A beckoning. A prayer. The bird was flinching and twisting in his little makeshift nest. "No!" She thought he was dying. Tears were already spilling out of her eyes as she climbed across the bed, fingertips extended out to sooth the poor beast. The low keening sound was like nothing she'd ever heard. A whale song of misery, with the rough, saw edge sound of her raven. "Please.. no..." It was an entreat. Nothing short of begging the nebulous, faceless gods to leave this poor beast to her care. The sound began to change. No longer a resonating whale song, it became louder, more present, more.. human. She blinked and reached out to touch his feathers. He was trembling, and when her fingers finally made contact she realized he was burning up, almost scalding to touch "What in the hell..." She climbed all the way over "Are you growing?" The words were barely out of her mouth before the sound became a full on human wail and Milane began to transform. while the body of the bird stretched and twisted, his beak sunk in and flattened out. The feathers seemed to retract, or skin seemed to grow over them. Steph pulled her hands back and back pedaled across the bed. Her eyes were wide with fear and awe, her back pressed tightly up against the headboard frozen there watching the scene unfold before her.
The shapeless changing thing kept morphing in front of her. She heard audible pops and crackles as the wings fattened and then stretched. Bones twisting, and mending as the transformation continued. She had no idea about time. This could have been going on for hours, or seconds. She was lost to the beautiful horror of what was happening. To stunned to even reach for the bat that she kept at her bed side. Soon the sound went completely still. A pin drop would have sounded like an anvil crash in that room. She finally pulled herself together enough to move.
The movement on the bed started the bird-man, and his head snapped up, dark eyes focusing on her intently. Still wild from pain and disorientation. He saw her and his face immediately softened. "Stephanie." He said. His voice was full of heavy emotion. He gifted her with a sweet half cocked smile and said "I'm not really a bird. I'm a human ... with a condition" He had the good grace to look apologetic... then passed out face down on the bed."
Her hands were balled up against the top of her bare thighs. Breath still coming in gasps of fear. Hair wild, eyes wilder. As soon as he spoke and passed out, her whole physiology seemed to pause. The tension let out of her and she sagged. "Well isn't that fucking something."
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The room was dark when it seemed to fall into place for him. When he seemed to be able to grip that magical thing. That switch that would allow him to shift. He had to. He couldn't expect Steph to forgive him, or to understand. He felt his body seize and twitch. He understood. He was dying. He was a sentimental fool, sure. He followed Steph around for damn near a year in the hopes that this bizarre relationship might actually turn into something... but he wasn't so sentimental that he'd lay down and die just to avoid embarrassment. Just do it. Even in his hazed avian thoughts, he knew he had to pull himself together. To pull the right string and make it happen. He'd just have to hope that Steph would forgive him in the end.
He tensed his way through another shudder. He could feel his body starting to shut down. His bird form seemed so frail. He blocked it out. Focused on that thin string in his mind. The one seemingly made out of light and sound. The familiar sensations of being a human. He plucked it. Felt it resonate pleasantly through his entire body. Then he grabbed it full force and pulled. It hurt worse this time than ever before. It was never pleasant mind you, but the intensity of this ripped a primal scream down from the base of his soul. He could feel the cracks and tears in his body being stitched back together. Could feel his body grow and stretch and twist as it attempted to find his other form. He faltered for a moment and felt it skip and revert, before tripping back again and pushing forward to his human self.
When it was over he was left clutching the bed sheets in his hands, panting short, harsh breaths as he willed himself to make eye contact with the woman who had saved him. The woman he'd silently been in love with for years. The one who, he was now naked, and on her bed with. He looked up finally. The sight of her made his heart want to stop all over again. She sat back against the headboard. Black tank top against her pale skin, made her almost seem to glow. Wild hair cascading down over her shoulders in a wicked torrent. He pretended not to notice that the only other clothing she had on was a pair of black cotton briefs. Her eyes, though terrified, were more blue than he'd ever seen them before. He gave her a dopey smile and said the only think he could muster, and then blackness took him again.
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The blackness was kind. It was forgiving and comforting. Somehow he knew that on the other side of that darkness, nightmares were waiting to claim him. He knew that no good would come of this. A voice bid him to stay there. To keep safe in the dark and the silence, but a searing pain cut through that black void and pulled him foolishly back to the surface. He came to screaming. Burning up and cold at the same time. Pain he had never known before coursed it's way through his shoulder and down his side, and over to his chest. His eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything. He tried to move. To escape the pain, but he was held in place. The pain finally muted down to a barely standable throb, and he finally was able to hone his vision in. It was Phillip. That little son of a bitch. It came back to him now. Being pushed through the door. Jabbed in the neck. How long had the bastard been waiting in his home. He looked around quickly for anything that could help. A way out. Help. He refused to look at that face. That pale golden haired demon that was standing over him looking pleased as punch.
Phillip twisted the handle of the knife that was still sticking out of his shoulder. A new wave of agony drenched him, and he rioted against the restraints, rolling faintly, he looked down and saw wheels. A fucking wheelchair. He must have planned this for god knows how long. The pain erupted a new panic, a new need to escape. He didn't know how long he could endure this. His eyes focused on the phone for a moment too long because he could hear the cherub voice of his attacker chime in "Don't worry love, we'll call your girlfriend, but we're going to have a little fun first." Frank Squeezed his eyes shut and heard a clink and a scrape as Phillip picked up something off of the table.
A new blaze of pain erupted through his body. Not the sharp distinct plunge of a knife, but a raw nasty unbearable pain to his left leg. He shook and rattled against the chair and looked down at the boy, who was vigorously scrubbing against his shin from knee to ankle with a heavy wire brush. The entire front of his leg was a bloody pulp. Phillip looked up at Frank with sweet emotion dancing in his eyes and a blood spray decorating his cheeks like freckles. Eyes almost innocent and filled with glee. "You're my first." he whispered softly. "And while I want to take my time with you. Make this right. I do have something to confess." He scrubbed again, harder this time. Frank could feel the wires scraping against the bone, and he had to fight to keep conscious. He coughed and bit against the gag in his mouth, trying not to vomit. He could still hear Phillip talking. "This isn't going to be as romantic as it will be with Stephanie." The young man heaved a sigh of regret. "I want to keep you alive you understand. I need you to see me take her apart. Unwrap her like a gift. " He giggled then, and ran a finger over the raw nerves of the open wound, touching Frank's bare shin bone. " I think you'll enjoy it more than you could imagine." Frank screamed against his gag again. But it was filled with rage this time. He shook and rattled his chair again with such force that it fell backwards. The wind was knocked out of him and new blossoms of pain erupted from his wounds. Phillip stood up and climbed over him, indelicately pressing against his leg and shoulder. "You don't think I see you watching her the same way I do. Lust in those oafish eyes. You want her the same way I do, and I'm going to make you watch." Another Giggle, and then Frank could see the quick fast silhouette of a monkey wrench before a sudden wave of unconsciousness took him again.
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His heart was singing. There was music in his blood. In all of the blood. Magick there. Thick and crimson and full of his darkest desires. The big man had put up quite a fuss after the nice scrubbing. He didn't know that the skin would be so easy to scrub away. He flicked a few thick pulpy pieces from his sleeve onto the tarp underfoot. Mr. Frank had put up quite a fight even in the chair, and had tossed himself backward. Oh how he pretended that he didn't want to see Stephanie laid out before them both. He pretended that he didn't want to see her pulled apart and opened in every way and put back together. Maybe it was jealousy that it wouldn't be him. Who knows. The psyche is a strange place. He'd show him exactly what he wanted. What they both wanted. They just didn't know that they did yet.
He licked his lips as he thought about it. He stood over Frank, a foot planted on either side of his shoulders. Heavy wrench still in his hands from knocking the big guy out. "We're going to need to prep a little more I think." He nodded to himself as if Frank were still conscious. As if they were cohorts for the moment. "I'm sure you've got everything I need sir." He lifted his fingers to his brow and tipped his imaginary at his victims bruised, nearly crushed face. "You go ahead and rest up, I'll need you in a few."
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Steph watched as Milane, her bird man, passed out face first with that ridiculous grin on his face. She blinked a few more times before very quietly slipping from the bed. She tip toed around to the side and knelt, looking at his face. She knew this man. She ever so delicately reached up to push a handful of dark curls away from his features. "James." She had to catch her breath. "What in the living hell is... You're my goddamned bird?!" Even in her outrage she kept her voice to a low whisper. "I ought to throw you out of my own damned window." though her anger was real, her words lacked any conviction. "I bet that was your twenty in the jar to you bastard." The last words were more laughter than whisper, and she realized that she was still stroking his cheek where she had pushed his curls back, she quickly withdrew her hand. "Well I can't leave you like this I guess." She sighed and stood up, realizing for the first time that he was stark naked. She hurriedly dug out a pair of her super baggy PJ bottoms and as gracefully as one can, shimmied them onto the unconscious man.
"Whatever happened to just asking a lady out for coffee." she muttered as she wrestled him into a more comfortable and decent position on the bed. He still seemed to be suffering from a fever so she went to get some things from her medicine cabinet to see if she could help, when she returned Fat Spanky was waddling around on the blankets and curling up near James' knees. "Traitor." she said accusingly to the cat, who looked completely offended, and licked his paw in rebuke before laying his head down. She stole the moment to truly look at the man. He was beautiful really. Dark full corkscrew curls that women would kill for. Defined Jaw line, deep set dark eyes. She'd pulled the blankets up over his chest, but her eyes were drawn over and over again to the graceful lines of his shoulders and collar bone.
"Well I suppose if I have to be vexed by some paranormal bird man monster, that he ought to be pretty." she laughed and gently laid the cool wet cloth over his brow. The man fidgeted and then in his sleep gave that same groggy half smile, that she knew could probably get him out of any argument. She sighed softly and walked around the bed and clicked off the lamp and slipped under the covers. She propped herself up on her elbow, watching him intently. Certain that sleep would never find her after what she saw. After knowing that there was a strange man in her bed. After... after all of this.. But sleep came drifting in unbidden, and claimed her for it's own.
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