Born of Chaos and Grace

Chapter One: Crossroads - Part I

The air is thick with the stench of fresh blood and burnt flesh. Painful screams echo in the tight confines of the concrete bunker as they rip out of the creature's throat. Another garbled cry tears its way out of the bound man, his teeth clenching as the tip of a blade runs down his forearm. A red trail forms in its wake and blood drips onto the floor. 

A normal person would balk at the sounds, sights, and smells, and while the woman wielding the blade feels as any other human would, her humanity is hidden behind a mask of stoicism. Even after years of witnessing vile acts such as these, the idea of torture still makes Laine's stomach turn queasy. The fact that she needs answers – and by God, she's determined to get them – allows her to brush those thoughts off and focus on the task at hand. 

She barely bats an eyelash as she moves the blade to his exposed chest, leaving another laceration in the blotched skin. This time, the man lets out only a hiss and glares up at her, unable to stop her due to his weakened state. Although a reaction, not the one Laine was looking for.

Dropping the blade onto the table beside her, she turns back to her hostage that she captured yesterday evening after work. He had followed her out of the club after her shift had ended. He had assumed that she would be surprised, but she'd already been on alert for days. She had stocked weapons into the car and placed a couple bottles of holy water in there just to be sure. It had come in handy.

Despite being a half-demon with superior strength to her own, she had little trouble getting him into the back of her truck unconscious. Oh the wonders faked obliviousness could do, but reminiscing is for another time. She has a job to do.

The two stare at each for a long while, each daring the other to do something, when she draws her fist back and launches it at his cheek, his head whipping sideways on impact.

"You ready to tell me who sent you?" This has to be the hundredth time she has asked this question, so hopefully this will procure results.

Wiping her bloodied hand on the rag nearby, Laine holds in the hiss of pain at the contact. Her fists have started to sting from the continuous blows she's been dealing the hell spawn, but if that's what it takes to get answers, she's willing to accept a few scrapes and bruises.

The man spits out a gob of blood, a lone tooth flying out alongside it, and grins at her with blood stained teeth. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

An annoyed exhale leaves her as she steps towards the beaten man, a hand coming up to grip his sweat soaked hair and jerk his head backwards.

"Wrong answer," Laine shoots back with a sneer on her face, her free hand grabbing his chin to pry his mouth open. Releasing her hold on his hair, she grabs the small flask of holy water next to her. With a twist of the cap, she holds it tauntingly over his open mouth.

A twitch of resistance upsets the bottle and the harmful liquid spills out and into his mouth. Laine clamps her hand over his mouth and he begins to gag, smoke trickling out between her fingers as it burns his skin. He can hold it in his mouth or swallow it, but either way, he isn't going to feel too well afterwards.

"Y'know, if you'd tell me what I want to know, you wouldn't have to go through this." She leans in close to his ear as she speaks and waits patiently for his response. A rough chuckle is let out from behind her hand and she can't help the huff of annoyance that escapes her.

"It won't matter," he reveals when Laine releases his mouth. He coughs up the blessed water and blood before meeting her eyes in a hard stare. "They will find you, and you won't be able to run when they do."

She turns away from him at his words, eyebrows drawing together as she searches the room – for what, she does not know. She hates doing this, and out of the few times she's done it, she never despises it any less. Having to use the skills ingrained in her from adolescence is something she's not proud of, but all other options are out of the question.