Topic: The Ghoul of My Dreams

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:41 EST
((Continued from The Uninvited Someone.))

One of the best things about Rhy'Din - for the errant movie-star and family, at least - was the sense of anonymity. Everyone might know his name and his face, but no one made a fuss of it. Occasionally there might be a shy teenager asking for an autograph, the cheerful group of theater-goers outside the stage door wanting to congratulate him personally on the evening's performance, but most of the time that celebrity status was ignored by everyone else just wanting to get on with their own lives.

But that anonymity had its darker side. It encouraged laxity, complacence. If left long enough, it generated a false sense of safety and security even in those who knew a threat had been made. As days turned into weeks, that serenity urged the increasingly unwary to abandon the measures laid down for their protection. The constant shadow, always alert for danger, faded into nothingness; the weapon borne in secret found a new home in a forgotten drawer.

Like obsession, patience can be a dangerous thing.

The Rhy'Din premiere of 50 Shades of Grey had gone better than they could have hoped for. While not as manic as the premieres across Earth, there had still been a little excitement, easier to handle than the lunacy of the fan presence outside Rhy'Din. The after-party was populated with people they knew, people who understood a little of the reclusivity of the newest Granger newly-weds. With Aimee and her fiancee there to enjoy the easier atmosphere and take on the burden of the press enquiries, Jon and Vicki had been able to slip away relatively early.

They'd taken a room at one of the hotels near the Shanachie, rather than risk Cosmo waking up the entire house when they got back to Maple Grove. Humphrey was a very grumpy old man if his sleep was disturbed, something they had learned fairly early on in their tenancy there. It had been a strange contrast to the last premiere held on Rhy'Din, the first time the press had seen them publically together, but none the worse for that. This time, however, all Vicki had wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep off the wearying excitement of a busy premiere on top of an equally busy work week.

She didn't stir until morning, when a strange tug of something rough about one of her wrists roused her. She made to rub her eyes, groaning a little at the unwelcome wake up, and found that she couldn't move her arms. Her eyes flew open, suddenly wide and alarmed, looking around to find that she was no longer in the comfortable hotel room, no longer curled next to Jon. This place was dark and cold, and stank of the rotten and the dead.

Vicki felt a flare of panic, peering through the consuming darkness as she tugged on wrists and ankles that were obviously tied down with some kind of slimy rope. There was a blanket covering her, seemingly taken from the hotel, though she couldn't be certain. But where was Jon' What the hell had happened"

"Jon?"

"Hsssss!"

Vicki's scream at the hiss that suddenly resounded next to her ear was swallowed up by the cold, clammy hand that clamped down over her nose and mouth to silence her. She could just make out a pale face in the darkness, the features indistinct in the gloom, choking through the rank scent of the hand that was holding her breath.

"Quiet, you," the indistinct figure said harshly, and there was something about that voice that struck a chord in Vicki, something familiar that she couldn't quite place. "My Jon is here, he's safe. You and me have some business to finish."

The hand retreated to pat the burgeoning bump at Vicki's waistline, and she felt her skin crawl even as a cold sweat broke out over her body. She had never felt so afraid, so unaware of what was happening, of where she was or what this person was going to do to her.

"Please don't hurt my baby," she heard herself whisper, all the fierce bravado she exuded gone in the instant she perceived danger to the unborn child resting beneath her heart. "I'll do anything, just please don't hurt my -"

She gasped as that ruthless hand gripped her about the throat, the indistinct face coming closer in the gloom to hiss at her once again. "Not your baby. Jon's baby. My baby. You're nothing."

The grip on her throat relaxed, allowing her to breathe once again, and Vicki this time swallowed her frightened urge toward tears, biting her lips together as she forced her mind to put together everything she knew. She was somewhere underground. She was tied down. Jon was here somewhere, and apparently unhurt. And this person, their captor, wanted Jon and the baby. This was not good.

Footsteps moved away, and Vicki let herself breathe a little more easily, sensing that the immediate danger was past. But it wasn't the immediate danger that had her worried. It was the promised danger, the implication that her baby was going to be taken away from her. At 24 weeks, it was possible for the baby to survive out of the womb, but not ideal. Perhaps it was catastrophising for Vicki to jump immediately to the horrifying thought of having her baby cut out of her while she was still awake, but given the fact that she was tied down with some looney wandering around in the dank darkness, she didn't think it was a completely unfeasible scenario.

Her mind turned to Jon, and as the thought welled up that he might be hurt, sudden light blazed through the distinctly smelly place, artificial and painfully bright. Inadvertantly, Vicki cried out, squeezing her eyes shut against the blinding intrusion, her arms pulling the ropes that held her taut as she instinctively tried to lift her hands to protect her eyes.

A nasty laugh came to her ears. "Painful, isn't it' Trust me, it's going to get worse."

Straining her ears as she waited for the pain in her eyes to subside, for the streaming of water from beneath her eyelids to stop and allow her vision to adjust, Vicki heard the footsteps move further away, heard the swish of curtains and the creak of some furniture of some kind as weight was put upon it. And more disturbingly, she heard that nasty, hateful voice cooing and purring.

Forcing her eyes to open, to focus through the painful brightness of what she could now tell was a fluorescent tube hung directly over her, she turned her head toward the sound, and fury suddenly blazed forth in her expression. There was Jon, seemingly unconscious still from whatever had been done to keep them unaware as they were moved. Unlike Vicki, he'd been left in his sleep clothes, tucked into a startlingly luxurious four-poster bed hung with velvet curtains. Their captor was lying on the bed beside him, one arm reaching over to hug him to her as she cooed and giggled to herself.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:42 EST
Suddenly, Vicki knew who it was, who it had to be. The girl who had sent Jon that creepy message when they were in London, weeks ago. The girl who had shot him by accident, intending to shoot Correy instead. The girl who had never been caught, who had disappeared, who said she had been ill for a year. Obsessive and dangerous, and she'd caught them both in her web.

Disturbing though the scene was, Vicki couldn't take her eyes from it, details becoming clearer slowly as her eyes adjusted to the painful flare of light above her. And though she was frightened, she knew that staying panicked would only hurt the baby, somehow managing to calm her gasping breath and pounding heartbeat, feeling the unborn baby in her womb begin to calm as she did so. How long that calm could last depended largely upon someone - something - currently curled up beside Vicki's sleeping husband.

From this distance, the redhead couldn't yet work out the details of that macabre little tableau on the beautiful bed, so out of place in the cold darkness of this seemingly purpose built chamber of horrors. Drawing her gaze away, Vicki let herself take in the other details of the place, however frightening. No windows to let in natural light - indeed, the place felt as though it was underground, deep beneath the natural ground level of the city, if indeed they were still in the city at all. She had to assume they were still in Rhy'Din; one woman could not have removed an unconscious Jonathan Granger and his wife from their hotel and passed through the city gates without interference from at least someone. Not on the night of the Fifty Shades ....premiere.

The space they were in had been divided into two areas, distinct and separate and obviously intended for very different purposes. Vicki lay in the sparser part of the chamber, pinioned upon what felt like a very cold metal table. Belatedly, she realised she was naked beneath the single covering blanket, some traitorous part of her mind wondering what had been done to her while she was unconscious. Why had their captor chosen to cover her over when it was obvious she had little interest in Vicki's comfort at all" To Vicki's left lay another metallic table, like the appliance dollies used in hospitals. Various trays lay atop that table, their contents covered over with immaculately clean cloths. More disturbingly, beyond this table could be seen an incubator, already padded and warming, ready for a baby born pre-term to be set within.

Vicki's gaze snapped away from that sight quickly, feeling her pulse beginning to rise once again, the panic in her heart infecting her unborn baby once more. With supreme difficulty, she fought the desire to sob, hating the feeling of helplessness, of inevitability. The thought came to her of the Granger ring Caroline had pressed into her hand only a few weeks ago, of the secret locator hidden inside the bloodstone that could be activated by depressing the stone into its setting ....but a ripple of her captive fingers took that hope away. All her rings were gone, wedding and engagement rings too, and a nasty suspicion settled over her as to where they now resided.

Grinding her teeth in impotent fury, she turned her head toward the other side of the room, the part that had been turned into some parody of luxury. A four-poster bed, a fine French armoire, hangings on the walls to hide the damp and mould, thick real fur rugs on the floor. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make that side of this place habitable, if not exactly sanitary. Everything had a slightly moth-eaten look to it; old and probably discarded by someone else in the city above over the months it had taken to create this place.

Finally, Vicki turned her gaze back to the creature lying on the bed with Jon. She could see now why they had only ever caught glimpses of her at night. It was a plain face, the skin a vaguely pallid grey, straw blonde hair hacked wildly short yet just long enough to disguise a mark in the middle of the forehead. That mark was an X, and even from here, Vicki could see that it was an old injury that had not even attempted to heal. Whatever had happened to that woman, she was no longer human. There were open, weeping holes in each of the creature's palms, and some seepage on her left shoulder betrayed a wound not unlike that on her forehead.

But the eyes ....They should have been unremarkable, plain brown eyes in a plain face, nothing to write home about. But they burned, obsession written plain as day in the manic depths. They looked at Jon with possessive adoration, and at Vicki with a hate so inhuman it took her breath away. There was human intelligence there, human emotion, trapped inside a being that was no longer human at all.

Shaking, Vicki drew in a slow breath, taking the chance that so long as she was still pregnant, this insane thing that held them would not kill her or risk killing the baby. She had to be sure they were completely out of reach. Opening her mouth, Vicki opened her lungs for the first time in years, screaming out a long, ear-splitting cry for help that pierced the silence of the room and echoed back to her from the dank walls.

The creature beside Jon leapt up, shambling over to her other captive at speed, and delivered a vicious slap to Vicki's face with the back of her hand, leaving old blood and lymph smeared across the redhead's cheek as the scream suddenly cut off.

"Stupid bitch," the inhuman girl hissed down at her. "No one can hear you. No one cares."

But one person could hear, and that one person did care, more than any other. And thanks to Vicki's screaming, he was waking up.

Jon thought he heard a scream, a familiar scream, one he thought he should recognize. It seemed to be coming from somewhere close by, but his mind felt muddled like he was drunk or high, and the part of his mind that was lucid, thought he was only dreaming. And then, there was a voice that cut through that scream, also familiar, a snarl of words dripping with hatred and malice so ugly it made him shudder with fear, too real to be a dream and too close for comfort. He heard himself groan as he rolled to one side, his body feeling as heavy as lead. What the hell was going on' Why couldn't he move" It took great effort to open his eyes, like his eyelids were heavy weights, fluttering with the effort. Senses other than sight were the first to return.

He smelled something strange - like old, wet rags, a damp smell with a distinct rotting odor that made his stomach turn, choking briefly on the bile that was rising in his throat. He felt something soft looped around one wrist that he couldn't quite reach with his fingers, soft but snug, and he realized with a sinking feeling of dread that he was restrained. His first thought went to Vicki. Was this some kind of kink of hers he didn't know about' What kind of game was she playing? The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in her arms in the hotel room after they'd snuck out of the premiere.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:51 EST
He tried to talk, to say her name, but the words were clumsy, thick on his tongue as the drug was only just starting to wear off, and whatever he was trying to say came out an incoherent groan. He tried once again to pry his eyes open, catching small, blurry glimpses of his surroundings through half-closed lids. Draperies of some sort hung around him that only partially blocked his view. He turned his head toward the sound of the voices that seemed so close and yet so far away, forcing his tongue to work against his lips. "Vi-Vicki?" he asked, his voice echoing in the stark dampness of the underground space their captor had somehow managed to drag them to.

Her voice answered him from some distance away, frightened and shaking. "Jon' Jon, are you -" But she wasn't allowed to finished, the dull smack of skin on skin cutting her off with a low grunt of pain.

The voice that responded then was the one that had cut through her screams when he woke. "I told you to shut up, bitch!" Cold, cruel fingers wrapped about Vicki's throat once again, threatening to choke her until she passed out, and the redhead subsided, more afraid for her husband and child than for herself. Their captor, pallid grey and burning with her obsession, released her with a snarl, turning to move toward Jon. Her features settled into an adoring smile that was terrifying to behold as she leaned against one of the posts of the bed he was lain upon. "Jon," she cooed dreamily. "It's okay, baby. I'm going to make everything okay again, just for you."

Heavily lidded eyes snapped open at the sudden, slow realization of what was happening. He had to see what was going on, hoping against hope that his imagination was worse than the reality. It had to just be a dream, a nightmare. This couldn't be real, could it' Terror griped his heart in its icy grasp, as he looked up into a face that struck him as oddly familiar, human and inhuman all at the same time. "Don't touch me!" he shouted in terror, shrinking from the creature, prepared to lash out with his free arm if she dared come close. His heart and mind were racing, as he tried to sort out what was going on. It felt surreal, like they were playing parts in a bad horror movie, but somehow he knew it was all too real. "Vicki!" he shouted, looking past the thing standing close who was blocking the view of his wife. "What the hell have you done to her?" he exclaimed, tugging at the restrained hand as he tried to free himself.

Their captor's face creased into an expression of genuine hurt at his first shout, real pain crossing her burning eyes as she took the words like a blow. "I won't hurt you," she promised him, her voice startlingly soft and gentle, her left hand reaching toward him palm first in a calming gesture, displaying both the open sores and the glitter of Vicki's rings on her fingers. "I won't hurt our baby, either. Why would I" I promise, Jon, everything will be fine. Just calm down. We can be together."

"What?" he exclaimed, eyes wide with terror, not only for himself but for Vicki and the baby. He needed to understand what was going on here before it was too late. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded, as he pushed himself up, so that he was no longer lying prone on the bed, but sitting, one arm snugly fastened to a bedpost by some kind of cord. Though his mind was muddled and slow, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Whoever - whatever - the thing was that was leering at him greedily had somehow managed to bring him and Vicki to this place, wherever it was. Somewhere underground by the feel of it. Jon's memory wandered back to the vampires and ghouls he and Shen Lei had hunted roughly a year ago, and a strange feeling of deja vu came over him. He knew that face from somewhere, but where" "Our baby. It's not your baby. It's mine and Vicki's baby. What the hell do you want?"

"Don't you remember me?" Seemingly crestfallen, the pallid female sank heavily onto the end of the bed, one weeping hand falling possessively onto the bedclothes that covered Jon's foot. "But ....you have to remember me. I'm a part of you, I made you who you are! Okay, it was an accident, but still ..." The burning eyes turned to him once more, flashing with anger as he said his own wife's name. "Our baby. My baby. That little slut isn't in the picture anymore, you don't have to pretend anymore. Jon, I know you know me. You love me. You just don't know it yet." From across the room came the sound of Vicki's shaking breath as she listened to this, afraid to interject and earn herself something worse than a slap or punch.

Jon was fighting against panic, rising like bile in his throat, the sheer terror of the situation almost too much to bear, but if he lost his head now, both he and Vicki were doomed. He swallowed hard, struggling to control his fear, remembering the lessons Shen Lei had taught him. Master the fear or the fear masters you. Face pale and strained, he looked past the bedraggled girl toward where he could just catch a small glimpse of his wife, and what he saw there made his stomach lurch in disgust and horror. "Let her go," he told the girl. "Let her go and I'll do whatever you want."

"She doesn't matter anymore, Jon," the girl told him, her plain, scarred face lighting up with delight at what seemed to be his acquiesence to her intentions. "I just have to do one thing, and then she'll be gone. I've been studying, I can do it." She squeezed his foot through the blankets, a vaguely maniacal gleam in her eyes. "We're going to be so happy, just you and me and our baby."

"No ..." Vicki couldn't take any more of this, her own fogged brain quicker to jump to the inevitable conclusion of their deranged captor's intentions. "You'll kill the baby ..."

The girl's smile turned to a terrifyingly sinister smirk, her eyes never leaving Jon. "No, I won't," she said confidently. "I'm completely prepared. Look." Rising to her feet, she moved away from the bed, past where Vicki lay bound and only just covered with a single thin blanket, to wheel the expensive incubator into Jon's line of sight. Vicki might as well not have been there at all, for all the attention she was shown. "See" I know what I'm doing, Jon," the grey girl said through her mad smile.

He knew even before he said it that she wasn't going to agree, but he had to try. He had a feeling she wasn't going to hurt him, at least, not yet, but Vicki's life and the life of the baby were in grave danger, and in desperation, he'd do just about anything to save them. Keep her busy, keep her talking, keep her distracted, keep her away from Vicki, Jon thought to himself, mind racing. He inwardly cursed himself as she moved away from him, away from his grasp, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized the girl's plan. Vicki was only useful to her so long as she was still pregnant, and even that wasn't going to keep her alive much longer if he understood the girl's intentions. His gaze darted to Vicki, helpless and naked beneath that thin sheet, the swell of their child so obvious, so vulnerable. "Please, don't do this..." he pleaded, barely above a whisper, somehow knowing pleading wasn't going to work.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:52 EST
"You know, I said that." The sudden turn of their captor's madness stayed calm, but something in Jon's plea had distracted her, at least momentarily. "When your cousin came looking for me, after you got in the way of my shot. And when she handed me over to your other cousin. I begged them not to do what they did to me, but you know what? I'm glad they did now." She leaned on the incubator, looking Jon straight in the eye. "I can't die," she crowed, insanity pouring through her gaze. "Your security guard last night' He put three bullets into my heart, and I'm still here. That Eli is a genius, and when we're done here, I'm going to do to you what he did to me. We can have forever, Jon. We'll be immortal."

"What-what are you talking about?" he exclaimed, feeling the panic rising again. "Oh, my God..." he muttered, as the full realization of her statement was starting to sink in. She'd been the one who'd shot him, though her real target had been Correy. She'd been the one who'd sent them the menacing message in London. She was the stalker. That all made sense now, but what Eli had to do with it, he wasn't quite sure. "What cousin" What did Eli do to you?" Keep her talking. Jon's fingers strained against the cord that held his wrist, slowly sliding the Granger ring around his finger so that he could access the stone that would tell his family where they were and that they were in trouble. But even if he could activate it, it would take time for them to get there, and he didn't have any time to waste.

He swallowed down the panic, wide awake and alert now that he knew what was happening and that Vicki and the baby's lives were in his hands. He had to think fast and think smart. If only he could distract her long enough to free his hand. He realized with a shudder that there was a scalpel on a metallic table near Vicki, along with several other instruments meant for cutting and slicing and prying open. If he could just get his hand free, he might be able to save them.

"He made me what I am." And she seemed ridiculously proud of that fact. "Oh, not these ..." She held up her hands, showing off the weeping, coagulated sores that you could see right through in her palms. "Or this." Lowering one shoulder of her threadbare shirt, she showed him an X-shaped scar like the one on her forehead, the edges glistening with pus and blood and lymph. "The dark one gave me these, the one who deals" She's a vicious bitch. I'm going to tear her into little pieces when we're done." She turned away, wheeling the incubator back to its place by the wall as she continued speaking. "I don't really know what Eli did to me. He didn't explain much. It hurt. It turned my blood into fire and stopped my heart, and every time I thought I was dead, he brought me back to life to keep on experimenting on me. He put all kinds of monsters' blood into me, just to see what would happen." Her expression changed to something cold and calculating. "I'm going to kill him, too."

Gigi, Jon realized with a sinking heart. Why hadn't she told him' Why had they kept this from him' What the hell had they done after he'd been shot' If they'd wanted revenge, why hadn't they just killed her" If they had, then none of this would be happening. Jon looked hard at the girl, flinching as his mind flashed quickly back to the night of the shooting. Just a quick glimpse of a face looming in the darkness. A shot rang out in the night, and Jon pushed Correy aside, shielding him from the bullet, pain like fire tearing into his shoulder, his leg, another shot and another, and then everything went black.

The memory itself flaring like fire in his brain at the sight of that face. How could he remember when the doctors had told him it was useless" It was the vampires who'd given him back those memories, choosing which memories to give him and which to keep. "You. You tried to kill Correy," he said between clenched teeth, anger slowly rising, first at the memory of that cold night in March, and then at the horror of what she was about to do to the woman he loved.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:53 EST
The laugh that escaped the pallid girl was horrifically childlike. "Well, of course I did, silly," she said, turning her attention away from the object of her obsession and onto his bound wife. She didn't look at Vicki's face as she spoke, only the rise of the unborn baby in her womb. "I couldn't let you go around thinking you were in love with him, could I" He'd obviously cast some kind of spell on you. You should have kept out of the way, you know."

Silent for so long during this exchange, Vicki suddenly let out a frightened cry as the blanket was pulled from her, and those slimy, cold hands lay over her womb. "Oh God, don't, please don't," she whimpered, wrestling against the ropes that held her wrists and ankles tight. "Jon, please, don't let her -"

"Don't touch her!" Jon shouted, straining against the cord that held him fast, cold black rage filling his heart, his voice dripping with hatred and horror and disgust. It was now or never before it was too late. He couldn't wait for his family to track them down. Jon rolled to his feet, his free hand tugging at the knots in the cord that held his left hand bound to the post. "Touch her again, and I'll kill you!" he warned through clenched teeth, too angry to think about trying to trick her or seduce her into doing what he said. He wished he'd thought to carry a penknife, something, anything that would make this go faster.

Of course, he was going to kill her anyway, but that wasn't the point.

Vicki had never been so terrified in her life, unable to keep a lid on her panic even for the baby's sake as she struggled on the metal table. Above her, the pallid greyness of the girl who had drugged and bound them was utterly calm, seemingly unphased by the roar of angry threats from Jon and utterly cold to the terrified tears of the redhead at her fingertips. She reached out to bring the appliance dollie toward herself and pulled the drape from it, revealing row after row of wickedly sharp, beautifully prepared stainless steel surgical implements, most of which held a blade of some kind. Vicki cried out again, choking on her own fright as she pulled at her arms and feet, feeling the ropes burning her skin. "Jon!"

But then, one didn't usually carry a penknife in their pajamas. A lesson learned. He wondered how Lei would have handled things. If they got out of this alive, he was going to pay her another visit. If they got out of this alive, there was quite a bit of unfinished business he had to tend to. Family business. Time seemed to stop as Jon fought with the cord, the knots slowly unraveling, coming undone, not fast enough for him. He only needed another moment or two and he'd be free.

To Vicki's horror, she realised that beneath her own sounds of fright and denial she could hear the girl about to operate on her humming to herself as though this was the most natural thing in the world. One infected hand lifted a pen, carefully drawing a guideline for incision along the lower curve of Vicki's belly, the other reaching out to press down on the redhead's sternum, holding her in place, forcing the breath from her in the same instant. In her womb, Vicki could feel the baby kicking wildly, panicking with its mother without knowing why, and she knew it was bad for the child to be so hyperactive for so long. But she couldn't stop, sobbing with agonised fear as a sharp scalpel replaced the pen in the hand of the insane girl-thing who held her down. No antiseptic, no anesthesia ....she really wasn't expecting the mother to survive at all.

The cord finally broke free, and Jon didn't waste one precious second. He sprang across the four poster bed with a strangled cry of rage to knock the girl away from Vicki before the scalpel could so much as give her a scratch.

The girl crashed heavily into the tray of sharp blades, each of them slicing into her pallid skin and leaving droplets of dead blood behind them as she staggered away from Vicki's vulnerable form. She let out a screech of anger, spinning about to face Jon, nicks and cuts now littering her plain face and reaching hands. "What are you doing?"

Her question wasn't even worth a response as he placed himself between the girl and the prone form of Vicki, shielding her with his body, just as he had with Correy. If she wanted to hurt Vicki, she'd have to go through him first. "I told you not to touch her," he said, steeling himself for a fight. He eyed the tray with the shiny, sharp implements, debating his next move. Don't think, just act. He heard Lei's voice in his head, and without further thought, he rushed toward the girl, using his weight to throw her onto the floor beneath him.

She reeked like death, blood and pus oozing from various wounds in her body, but he ignored that, struggling to wrest the scapel from her hand.

Disbelief registered on the creature's face in the moment before Jon made contact, bearing her to the ground easily in a flail of limbs and crunching bones. She was more fragile and yet more resilient than she seemed, shrugging off what was obviously a broken scapula to push at the man now atop her. "You're going to make me kill you, for her?" she snarled with sudden fury, clawing at Jon's hand as he fought for control of the wicked blade in her hand.

"No," Jon replied, his voice strained as he struggled with her for the scalpel. But then there were more where that one came from. "I'm going to kill you for her." Some part of him seemed to remember the lessons Ollie and Dom had given him as a boy, teaching how to defend himself against bullies, even against his own father, cocking a fist back and smashing it against what passed for a nose.

For someone who believed herself beyond death, she was very easy to break. Or rather, her bones were. What passed for a nose shattered under Jon's fist, releasing a spray of blackened blood and foul-smelling ichor as the girl screeched out her anger and pain. On the table not so far away, Vicki couldn't take her eyes from the struggle, scared no longer for herself but for Jon as he fought with his number one freaky fan. "Jon ....Jon, look out!" The warning came too late as the girl's fist rose, clenched about the edge of the metal tray that had been dislodged from the dollie when she'd fallen against it, bringing it down hard against Jon's head with a hollow clang.

Stunned for a moment by the blow to the head, he fell to the side, the room spinning around, his vision fraying at the edges, his head feeling like it was exploding with pain. His fingers clawed the floor, barely conscious, as he slowly moved to his knees. He felt something warm trickling down his face and knew it was his own blood, but that wasn't important right now. He blinked to clear his vision, instruments made for the hands of doctors lying strewn across the floor. His fingers closed on one of them, anything really. Anything could be a weapon if used the right way.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 21:59 EST
His opponent was not focused on him, though. Spitting blood and bone and teeth, she snarled as Jon fell away, unphased by her injuries, rolling to her own knees to crawl toward the operating table once again. Her eyes levelled a malevolent glare on Vicki. "This is all your fault," she spat, pulling herself up, dripping blood and mucus over the redhead's bare skin. "I'm going to kill you!" But Vicki hadn't exactly been idle during the scuffling on the floor. With an almighty heave that split the skin on her ankle and left a trail of her own blood on the hemp, she dragged one foot free of the rope that bound it and kicked out, pushing the girl away from her.

Jon curled his hand around what he'd later realize was a tweezers and stumbled to his feet, just as Vicki kicked the girl away. He raised the instrument like it was a knife and bore down on the girl, driving her backwards toward the bed and squeezing the tweezers closed to thrust both ends into an eye.

Borne down onto the bed, the girl's arms opened as though to embrace Jon, the grimace on her face almost something close to a smile if not for the fury that blazed from her eyes. Well, eye. The one that received both points of the tweezers directly into the iris popped like an overripe grape, splurging blood and more of that foul-smelling ichor over Jon's hand as the girl screamed, finally feeling some kind of pain under his determined attack. The scalpel still in her hand, she flailed at his arm, howling with maniacal fury.

He knew it wasn't a killing blow, but it might give him enough time to scramble for a better weapon. He rolled away from her, shaking the blood and pus from his hand, barely stifling a gag, as he stumbled again, still reeling from the blow to the head. He snatched up the metal tray from the floor and spun around, returning the favor and whacking her in the head with it, hoping to stun her long enough to finish her off.

As Jon whirled away, the girl still flailed and screamed, scrabbling at the implement that was lodged in the now empty socket of her eyeball as she twitched and jerked in pain. She slid off the bed, groping in Jon's direction, only to receive the tray full in the face, the impact knocking the tweezers deeper into her skull, cleaving deep into her brain. She dropped to her knees with an inarticulate yell, the scalpel falling from her twitching fingers.

She just barely caught his arm with the scalpel, slicing into his arm, not deep enough to do any serious damage or to slow him down, but enough to make him bleed. He watched as she fell to her knees, ignoring the pain in his arm. Nearly worn out, he noticed the scalpel fall from her fingers, and with the last of his strength, he drove himself at her again, shoving her back onto the floor and smashing her full in the face with the metal tray, letting it fall to the ground, as he scrambled for the scalpel.

Half-blinded, most of her motor-functions finally out of her control thanks to the sharp metal imbedded in her brain, Eli's undead corruption of Jon's mentally unstable fan put up barely any fight as she was forced down onto the ground, her limbs still twitching as her severed neurons fired without success. Blood and pus and foul lymph pooled beneath her head as Jon slammed the tray into her face once again, flattening what was left of her nose up into her frontal lobes, groaning like some kind of badly constructed zombie.

With the scalpel in hand, he stabbed her, driving the thin blade into her heart, again and again until she stopped twitching and was no longer moving. Straddling her broken and oozing body, he waited to make sure she was really and truly dead, before rolling off and to his feet, the scalpel embedded in the girl's chest, a foul mass of blood and oozing fluids. He clutched at his wounded arm a moment, as if only just now realizing he was bleeding, and stumbled toward Vicki to free her from her bonds.

Whimpering through her tears, still frightened that their insane captor was going to somehow come back to life and attack Jon once again, Vicki couldn't take her eyes from the still mass of blood and bone and other disgusting bodily fluids no one ever sees in films. "Oh, God ....oh ..." As soon as she was free, she pushed herself up, heedless of her nakedness, and threw her arms around Jon, sobbing out her fright into his chest. She'd never been so frightened, so vulnerable, in her lifetime, and she hoped never to be again, pouring out that horrifying feeling until it ebbed away. Drawing back, she scrubbed at her wet cheeks, reaching to look Jon over in concern. "You're bleeding, are you all right' She didn't ....she's not going to wake up, is she?"

Jon took his wife in his arms, sensing that she was far more shaken by all this than he was, and he was pretty shaken. He held her close against him, stroking her hair, whispering soothing words, trying to calm her, even though all he really wanted to do was lose the contents of his stomach and curl up in a ball until help arrived. "Oh, God, Vicki. Are you all right?" he asked as he cupped her face in his hands and looked her over, both of them concerned for the other's safety. "Is the baby all right?" he asked, laying a hand against her swollen belly to feel for movement.

Trembling in the wake of her overly emotional outburst, she held onto Jon as he looked her over, her hand following his to the curve of her stomach, feeling for the reassuring stretch and kick of the baby in her womb. "I'm fine, she didn't ..." She trailed off, shaking her head as a chilled shudder went through her, acknowledgement of her lack of protection against the chill of the chamber slow to make itself known. "We're both fine," she repeated, drawing in a shaky breath. "I just want to get out of here."

Jon wasn't much more clothed than she was, just in his pajamas and those were filthy, covered in gore. He let go of her for a moment, just long enough to yank a blanket from the bed and wrap it around her shoulders, rubbing her arms to offer warmth and comfort. "It's all right. I activated the locator in my ring. Help should be coming soon." He knew his words were little comfort, but they were all he had. "It's okay, Vicki. It's over."

He drew her close again, holding her in his embrace until help came. There was no point in trying to find their way out alone, not wounded and in their state of undress. He drew her head away from the sight of the dead girl's body, holding her tight against his chest, trying his best to keep her warm and safe.

Shivering, she let him look after her without argument for once, that lack of resistance proving more than anything else how shaken the past hour had left her. She deliberately kept her eyes away from the mess of blood and bone that was the body, until one word in Jon's litany of comfort rang through her head. "Ring," she repeated, pulling her left hand from the folds of the blanket to look down in tearful anger at her bare fingers. "That bitch took my rings!"

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 22:00 EST
He grimaced at the exclamation from Vicki, anger flaring again, along with a good dose of guilt. This was his fault. If she wasn't with him, it would never have happened, but he'd deal with that later. A few people had some things to answer for, and he would be damned if he didn't get some answers. He ever so carefully pulled the blanket tighter around her, rubbing her back gently as they waited for help to arrive. "Never mind about that. I'll get them back as soon as help gets here."

Part of her wanted to protest, but the larger part didn't want to go anywhere near the remains of their insane host or let Jon do the same. Nodding, she curled herself closer into his arms, suddenly looking up at him with clear, stern eyes as she realised why he felt so unyielding. "This isn't your fault. You just saved my life, Jon."

He was shaking against her, trembling almost as hard as she was from cold and shock and pain, taking some comfort from the fact that she was still spunky enough to remember her rings and get angry about their loss. He looked into her eyes, trying to hide the guilt and the fear that he'd come so close to losing her and failing. "I know," he replied, with a strained smile that was more a painful grimace. "I told you I wasn't gonna let anyone hurt you, didn't I?" he pulled her close again, needing to hold her close, needing to know she was really all right. "I'm sorry, Vicki. I'm so sorry." His fingers curled into the blanket, and he felt the tears coming, but he pushed them aside, needing to be strong for her. It was over, but it wasn't over. Not until he had some answers.

"You didn't let her hurt me," she told him, hugging her arms around his waist as she leaned into him, ignoring the stench of the blood and everything else that dirtied his pajamas, her forehead coming to rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder. "I was so scared, and then you were there, and you stopped her. She didn't hurt me." It was only a little lie, and one he would catch her in over the next few hours when the bruise came up on her cheek and the rope burns on her wrists and ankles made themselves known. But here and now, Vicki couldn't have said whether she was hurt or not, drawing in a quick breath as she looked him over. "We should wash those cuts," she began, before a loud crash reverberated through the space, the sound of someone or something trying to get in making her jump violently.

He didn't want her to see that either - the anger, the rage. She'd seen a part of him that he'd never wanted her to see, and yet it was that part of him that had saved her, saved them both. He couldn't have helped the bruises or the burns, but he had saved her life and the life of their baby and that was at least saying something. The crash caught his attention, and he tensed, holding Vicki even tighter, but a familiar voice rang out through the underground chamber, and he relaxed just a little when he realized the cavalry had finally arrived.

"Hello!" that familiar voice called. "Is there anyone in here?" Help had arrived in the form of Johnny Storm, arriving just before the security detachment Humphrey had sent to their location as soon as they'd received the signal.

"In here!" called Jon, never expecting to be so happy to hear the sound of his P.A.'s boyfriend's voice.

Vicki's voice followed Jon's, somewhat more acerbic and less openly relieved. "You took your time, didn't you?" she called on the heels of Jon's answer to Johnny, but if the truth was told, she didn't think she was ever going to be able to thank Johnny enough for finding them so promptly. She didn't know about the men who were hot on his heels, only that Liv's resident superhero was living up to his reputation. She sat up a little straighter on the table, tucking the blanket around herself to at least make a pretense at protecting her modesty, leaning into Jon with another shaken sigh of relief. "Thank God," she whispered, closing her eyes as she pressed her face into Jon's shoulder.

"Jesus Christ!" Johnny exclaimed as he made his way into the small chamber, in full Fantastic Four regalia, his uniform hugging the sculpted muscles beneath. "What the hell happened" Are you all right?" he asked, clearly alarmed at the blood and gore decorated the room, his expression one of shock and concern. "Is-is the baby..." He trailed off, his face turning a shade paler than usual, wondering just what had happened there.

Opening her eyes, Vicki managed a shaky smile for the alarmed hero who had forced his way inside, a little amused that his first thought wasn't for either of them but for the baby. "The baby's fine, I think," she assured him, hugging her arm tighter around Jon as she spoke. "Jon's hurt, though. Does anyone else know where we are?"

"I'm fine," Jon broke in. "Nothing that won't heal." He glanced over at the hero, glad he was there, but wishing he'd arrived a little sooner. He knew a little about Johnny's abilities from what he'd witnessed himself when Johnny was in a mood to show off and from what Liv had told him, and though he wasn't worried about himself, he was worried about Vicki. "Can you warm her up" She's freezing."

"Clothes would help," Vicki interjected at this suggestion, rolling her eyes at her husband. "I'm not the one bleeding, am I?" One hand crept from the blanket once again to touch Jon's cheek. "Please, Jon. Just let someone look you over, okay?"

Johnny glanced between the two, and the oozing body on the ground and put two and two together. He made his way over to the fallen body, nudging her with the toe of one boot, wincing in disgust at the sight. "Undead?" he asked, recognizing the signs. He'd seen this sort of thing before. "You know these things regenerate sometimes," Johnny remarked, though this one looked pretty well done for. Still, it was better safe than sorry. "You might want to look the other way," he warned, looking over at the pair, his comment meant mostly for Vicki. He'd hadn't really gotten to know his wife's boss too well, but he'd taken an almost immediate liking to the spunky redhead.

"I'm fine, Vicki. It's just a scratch," Jon insisted, looking down at his wife. Not waiting for her to agree to Johnny's statement, he cradled her head against his chest to shield her eyes from what Johnny was about to do.

"The cavalry will be here soon. They're slow. I came as soon as we narrowed in on your signal. Humphrey is beside himself with worry," Johnny crouched over the fallen body, recognizing the rings on the dead ghoul's hands with a small frown. He threw a questioning glance at Jon who nodded his head, and Johnny drew the rings from the girl's dead fingers so they wouldn't be incinerated with the body.

"It is not just a scratch," Vicki started to protest, but between Johnny's warning to look away and Jon's determination to make sure she did just that whether she wanted to or not, she found herself muffled against her husband's chest. The low growl that then vibrated through Jon's chest was warning enough to both men that they should probably get on with it or risk the full flare of Victoria Granger's temper, something not even Jon had seen close up and personal.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-11-18 22:08 EST
Johnny closed his fingers around Vicki's rings to keep them safe from the flames and moved to his feet, extending his free arm toward the dead girl's body, and with what seemed like no effort at all, that arm was suddenly engulfed in flames which he then directed in a flaming stream toward the body, like a flame thrower. The smell of burning flesh lasted only a moment before the body was burned almost immediately to ash. He said nothing, no smart remarks, no words wishing her a peaceful rest. He only burned the body to ash, filling the previously cold room with heat as warm as a summer day.

"She won't be bothering anyone anymore," Johnny remarked mostly to himself. It was no big secret that he didn't like killing; it was always a last resort with him, but this was different, and the ghoul was already dead.

Jon watched as the body went up in flames, no pity inside him, no grief, no remorse, only anger, exhaustion, pain, relief. "Thanks," he told Johnny as he was handed Vicki's rings.

Johnny quietly excused himself. "If you two are okay, I'm gonna go outside and let the cavalry know where to find you."

The flare of heat, whatever its source, did the trick in burning off the chill from Vicki's bones, and though she couldn't see what was being done, she could guess, grateful that neither of them had wanted her to see the final death dealt out to someone who had taken her obsession beyond life and death and into insanity. Her voice, however, was still muffled as she heard Johnny excuse himself. "Find me some shoes!"

Johnny furrowed his brows as he picked his way from the room. Where the hell was he supposed to find a pair of shoes at this time of night' Should he raid a shoe store" He didn't even know her size. "Shoes, yes, ma'am."

But she wasn't going to need shoes because Jon wasn't going to allow her to walk, and he wasn't planning on sticking around her any longer than necessary. In fact, whether it was cold outside or not, it was time to leave, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. "Hang on, Johnny! We're coming with you." He pressed the rings into the palm of Vicki's hand, before carefully tucking the blanket back around her and scooping her up in his arms to follow the Torch through the chamber to the catacombs that led to fresh air and freedom.

Johnny heard them and waited, a small flame flickering from his fingers to light the way to their escape.

"Wait - Jon!" Cocooned so she couldn't struggle and scooped up into her husband's arms, all Vicki could do was protest vocally as she was borne out of the chamber. "You don't have any shoes, either - mind the knives! - and you don't know what?s out there for you to slip on." She paused, looking up at Jon as Johnny illuminated the passageway, sliding her rings back into their accustomed place on her left hand under the blanket. "You're ignoring me, aren't you?"

"Hush, Vic," Jon admonished her gently, carefully picking his way barefooted through the catacombs. His head and body were aching, but he couldn't stay there any longer, and the possibility of cutting his foot in comparison to almost losing her and the baby, seemed a small price to pay. "I'll be fine. I just want to get you out of here and go home, okay?" He wasn't taking no for an answer. He had a feeling whoever was coming for them wasn't bringing shoes, and he wasn't waiting to be bodily carried out when he could walk.

"I can take her," Johnny volunteered, as they caught up with him. Though he had a feeling the other man's ego might be wounded, he saw what kind of shape they were both in and knew Vicki was right. "It's okay. You can trust me," Johnny reiterated, looking helpfully from one to the other. "I'll get her out and come back for you."

"Jon, please." After a moment of determined wriggling, she got a hand free to reach up and turn Jon's face toward hers, looking him in the eye. "There is no point looking after me if you don't look after yourself. You promised me you'd look out for yourself while you were looking out for me, don't you dare break that promise now." She arched her neck, daring to touch her lips to his, reminding him that looking after himself was a part of that deal they'd made when they'd first got together, just over a year ago. She glanced at Johnny. "You're temporarily deaf and blind, right?" she told the hero with a faint smirk.

Johnny grinned back, turning his back to the couple while they had their moment. He'd had plenty of his own with Olivia, after all. "Sorry, I can't hear you!"

Jon, on the other hand, was not smiling. He was frowning at his wife, despite the kiss, but part of him knew she was right. He was exhausted and feeling sick and just wanted to get them both out of there and breath fresh air again. He knew if he let Johnny take her, he'd be alone in the darkness for a little while, but it was a small price to pay. "All right," he agreed, thinking as much of Vicki as she was thinking of him. "Get her out of here. I'll wait here."

"No," Vicki objected straight away. "I'm not leaving you on your own down here, that wasn't the idea. Put me down." And the look in her eyes suggested that if Jon didn't put her down, there would be hell to pay. She'd been through a personal hell, and she'd had it up to here with being told what to do. "Johnny can light the way, and we'll take it slowly," she said firmly. "I am not leaving you alone, Jonathan Granger."

Jon sighed, giving up. There was no fighting city hall or Victoria Marshall when she had her mind made up, and apparently, her mind was made up. He knew she'd been through hell and was only trying to think of her, but she was even more stubborn than he was. "You're the stubbornest woman I've ever met, you know that?" he grumbled, very carefully setting her on her feet.

"Hey!" Johnny called from a short way up ahead. "They're here! It's about damned time!" he grumbled, his heightened sense of hearing catching the sound of footsteps heading their way.

The stubborn in her eyes gentled as Jon gave in and set her down, her hands quickly busy with tucking the blanket around her chest securely before linking her fingers with his. "Thank you," she murmured to her husband, rising onto her toes to kiss his jaw gently. "The sooner you're checked over and we're home, the happier I'll be, I promise." She glanced up as Johnny announced the arrival of the cavalry, relief spreading through her face.

Jon clenched his jaw, not understanding why she was fussing and so worried about him when she was the one who'd been in real danger here. Her and the baby. It wasn't until they were topside and the EMTs were looking them over that he realized how horrible he was feeling. It wasn't until it was all over that he finally lost the contents of his stomach on the pavement and allowed himself to acknowledge what had just happened down there. A couple of hours later and they were both cleaned up, stitched up, and tucked into bed, a nursing staff on hand to key an eye on them, if needed. Jon came away with a mild concussion and a few stitches, but all things considered, it was a small price to pay. His wife and child were safe, and that was all that mattered. For now.

((Ding dong, the witch is dead. Er, the ghoul is dead. ;) As always, huge thanks to Vicki's awesometastic player for this scene, for writing the introduction, and for playing the nasty. You're da bomb! Lots of fun! This takes care of Jon's stalker for now, but stay tuned as our heroes and heroines have to deal with the aftermath.))