"This feels too much like a fever dream to be real"
MARLEY ROXANNE was wrongfully convicted of a crime. A crime that a twisted alter, the worse part of herself, committed in self defense, an act Marley never participated in. She was used to taking t...
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WIDOW WAS SUSPICIOUS OF THE GROUP FROM THE BEING. Considering Marley's fear had been heightened since Murn offered them a chance at freedom, Widow automatically had little trust in any of them. Her hatred increased when she realised she was often front in the middle of brawls where the risk of death lurks in the back of her mind.
Her finger was beginning to ache as she continued to pull the trigger, the sound of bullets acting like music to her blurred hearing. A devilish grin had spread over her chapped lips before it fell as the fight was sealed behind a metal doorway, locking the three of them in a secluded office with zero way out.
"Oh, this is a perfect idea!" Widow exaggerated, wiping a splatter of blood from her cheek with her sleeve. "Where the hell are we suppose to go, genius!"
As Harcourt scoffed, rolling her eyes at the woman, Adrian could only watch from the opposite end of the room. His breathing was harsh as he leant against the reflective wall, hands clasped over his knees as he inhaled sharply to slow his adrenaline from overwhelming his body. But his focus was elsewhere. As his body when on autopilot, his mind reeled for an answer as to why Marley's behaviour did a complete 180. She wasn't soft spoken, she was pissed off and not afraid to show it.
Widow yelped with sudden fear as the possessed works ran into the metal doorway with such aggression that the material dented beneath their weight.
"There's a factory behind the warehouse, and some butterflies have trapped us inside of some sort of... computer room," Harcourt reported over the shared earpieces, cautiously examining the dark room.
"Copy. We're on our way," came a reply from Leota.
"Be careful."
Widow's dark gaze slowly moved over the piles of scraps littered over each tabletop. Hesitantly, she wiped her hand through the collection, plucking an oddly shaped piece of machinery with narrowed eyes in sudden confusion. The heavy pounded of butterfly infected workers continued as white noise in her peripheral and she continued to analyse the random formulas scribbled out over littered paper and cyberpunk esc displays that decorated the dim desktop screens.
"What the hell is all this shit?" Widow muttered, lips parted as she tried to connect a sentence that explained what she was seeing. Her uneducated brain was struggling to say the least.
A low growl caught there attention, the snarl of an imprisoned beast breaking through the suffocating darkness.
