Of Monsters And Men | Discontinued |

Episode Fifteen - The War

The man leads her down the maze of streets, knocking open the door to a shitty motel. She enters behind him, shutting the door. He leans against the counter, pinning her with a gaze that sees nothing. She stands, hardly breathing. That feeling of somber danger is back, her spine rigid to the point that it aches. Still, she remains calm, Rot making itself known, flowing through her muscles. She can't help but relax. Rot will protect her if anything happens. Rot has to protect itself, after all. Rot may not want to kill her as much as before, but it never said that it wouldn't kill her, or flee her body for a better one.

So, Evren remains distrusting of the creatures intentions.

"What do you know about the Hand?"

"The what?" She responds, unable to keep her mouth shut, no matter how much unease is crumbling in her stomach. The man simply sighs.

"There's a war coming. It involves someone who met--"

"The man in black." She says, smoothly, remembering the name from somewhere. Aching pain spreads behind her temples. Someone, Kingpin, told her to watch for the man in black. Another man, with a soft voice and a kiss just as soft against her forehead, told her to be careful. She doesn't know who told her that. She raises a hand to her temple, grimacing, desperately trying to remember more- remember who told her to be careful, remember the person who makes her heart flip in her chest. He pauses, for just a moment.

"Yeah. After you ate those men, anyways." It's her turn to pause. The man snorts. "I don't care what you did. Your, uh, symbiote explains it. The man in black is a part of the war, just like you are." She opens her mouth, about to retort and say that she doesn't even know who she is, yet he cuts her off. Harshly. "The war is coming, whether you like it or not."

"I don't even know who I am," She snaps. "How am I supposed to fight in a war I don't know about?"

"What's your name?" The man asks, suddenly, tilting his head. She blinks.

"Evren ," She says, hesitating. She doesn't remember her last or middle name. Her stomach drops to her feet.

'Wells.'

"Evren Wells." She adds, thankful that Rot reminded her of her last name. It shouldn't have to, yet it does. The name is familiar, comfortable. It sounds right- not like the name the scientists tried to convince her was hers. Evren Wells. Evren Wes- Evren what? She blinks. Her last name is Wells, not whatever her brain tried to tell her is hers. Wes- what? Weston? It feels wrong. Everything does. Who's name was blaring across her mind- who was it? Why does the name make her feel warm and hot in her chest and stomach- why does her head hurt?

"Then you know who you are." The man says, flippantly, dismissing the notion instantly. She scoffs, Rot swarming in her chest. It's either Rot, or that dark feeling that makes her stomach uneasy. The dark that feels like hot sap shooting through her veins.

"It isn't that easy--" She retorts, eyes burning, lips curled back from her teeth. She feels like a rabid animal, cornered by what could be the truth, or the thing that ruins her. She has to know who she is.

"You don't need to know who you 'are' to fight in a war. People forget things." The man snarls, twisting towards her. "You'll be wise to listen to me, kid. Either you come with me, or you get tortured and fight for the Hand. That simple."

"I don't want to do anything." She scoffs, glaring at him uselessly. "I don't have to do anything."

"This war is bigger than you think. You choose sides now, or you won't get the chance. Who do you think ran that little organization that put that thing in you?" He remarks. Cold, freezing cold, washes down her spine. She feels herself deflate, the air stolen from her lungs. "Who do you think got you out of there? You?"

"What?" She murmurs. It echoes between her ears, Rot restlessly squirming inside of her. "No, that couldn't be the Hand. What even is the Hand?" She finds herself sinking to a crouch, wrapping her arms around herself.

"They created what you are for this war." The man says, no softness in his words. The words cut into her like a knife. "You are nothing but a tool for them. You choose, now. You fight for them, or against them." He draws a sword. She isn't even sure where it came from. "Hurry up. Them, or the people trying to stop them?"

She doesn't want to fight in a war. A war that she doesn't remember, a war that makes her tongue taste bitter in her mouth. She doesn't want to kill people. She doesn't want to be controlled by the people that forced Rot inside of her. She stares at her hands, watching as tendrils emerge from her flesh and wrap tightly around her palms. The action slowly clears her head.

"Choose." The man snarls, lifting the blade more, holding it in front of him. He wouldn't have a chance, really. Evren has Rot; Rot that would overcome her skin and rip his throat out within just a second, before he could make a sound. If she kills him and escapes, run from this city and never stop, would they ever find her?

But she's tired. She's so tired that it's gathering in her bones, weighing her down until she's made of nothing but exhaustion.

"I don't want to fight." She murmurs, pinning her gaze onto the strange man. The feeling of danger is back, tensing her shoulders and tightening in her throat. The man shakes his head, as if sensing her decision, dropping the sword slightly.

"You don't have a choice, kid." He says, approaching her, offering a hand. She hesitantly takes it, accepting his help to stand. As he tosses the sword onto a crappy mattress, her stomach sinks. Something about this feels wrong, like she made the wrong choice. "Follow me. I have to talk with someone you know."

Her feet follow after him. It isn't Rot leading her, but it isn't really herself, either. She decides that the second she can escape the war, she will. She'll run, far and fast, until there's no one but her. Her and Rot, evading the war that this man speaks of.

"If you run, they'll find you." He says, breaking the silence. She doesn't say anything to refute him, simply resigning herself to ignoring the fantasies about living a normal life, even with Rot. She doesn't even know what the truth is. "The Hand is everywhere, kid. But," He pauses, tilts his head, then turns down a street. "I think Matty will be able to help you."

"Matty?" She responds, following.

"You'll be meeting him soon." He supplies, before falling into silence. She keeps her mouth shut, too, even though her head is filled with questions- How he's involved in the war, who Matty is, why the person would want to help her in the first place, who this man really is- there's no way he's just a blind man, no, he's someone much more than he seems. With each step, her heart only pounds harder in her chest. Rot is still covering her hand, squeezing gently.

The man starts climbing the stairs of a parking garage. The place is familiar. The hair on the back of her arms and neck stand on end. This place, the buildings- they're familiar. The parking garage is even more so as they climb the stairs. The man pauses, unfolding his cane, purposefully tapping it against the ground.

She follows behind him, gaze settling first on the car fleeing from the garage, then the man laying on the ground, muscles tensed.

"Are you gonna lie there all night or get up off your ass? Jesus, kid. I'm gone five minutes, you turn this place into a shit show." The older man remarks. Evren stares at the man in black, who tilts his head and glares at the pair.

Her throat tightens.

She doesn't want to be a part of this war.