Me & Her

Her

He's a jaguar, a big cat on the prowl. It's evident in the way he moves – all sleek and predatory.

Dr. Light is gone and there is a new man standing across the room, smiling a smile to match mine. He catches my eye, frowns a little. Cocking his head to one side, he steps forward.

The black hair seems wilder, the eyes deeper like the bottom of a swamp. Primal.

Squaring my shoulders, I take a step too. I'm not going to let him see that I'm afraid. As I search my mind, I discover that actually, I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid at all. I should be, I should have run, but I haven't. I'm still here, still staring at him.

It appears he's doing the same, the way a vulture assesses a dying animal in the desert before tucking in. The fascination on his face is startling.

"Who are you?" He speaks first, his voice sickly sweet. The reality of the situation finally strikes me, and I have to clap a hand to my mouth to stop laughing.

"Oh, now this is awesome," I chuckle. He pauses but doesn't frown. I've totally got to name him.

Mr. Dark sounds good.

"I'm Alyssa Callett. You know, the other one". I'm assuming he's somewhat aware of my situation since he shares a body with the most insufferable man on the planet. I wonder briefly if he can share information like we can, or if he has to text himself or give Doc' hourly updates.

Maybe he keeps a journal. Now, wouldn't that be interesting?

Mr. Dark stalks forward, so I slide to one side to dodge his wrist grab. But he's already there, snagging my other hand. He's quick off the mark, I'll give him that.

"You," he squints. "You're not what I expected".

Yanking my hand away, I kick him in his inner thigh. He dips and despite the pain, smiles.

"What did you expect?" I smile back.

"Not you".

I suppose that is the closest thing to a compliment I'll ever get.

Slinking back across the floorboards, his bare feet scrape on the wood.

"I don't usually talk to my prey," he remarks, as if hunting other living beings is his day-job. Hey, maybe it is. Who I am to judge?

"Good thing you're not my predator". He jerks back, a strange smile splitting his lips. It's like he's never been surprised before. Like he's never been anything before.

"It is dark outside. He's represses me more in the daytime," Mr. Dark comments as he watches the stars.

Readying my fists, I edge closer. Any moment, he could pounce. I'm not entirely sure why, but I know he was made to kill. Some form of experiment then, like me. Or something else. Maybe this is who I'm meant to be. I growl.

Nobody dictates that except me.

"Do you know the Janus Foundation?" At the mention of that name, he spins arounds, face feral. I've clearly struck a nerve. He rages a second more, returning to normal as easily as a porcupine would retract its spines. That's how unpredictable he is.

I fight the giggle that's beginning to build.

This is great fun, the most I've had in ages.

Who would've thought the stoic Doctor to be capable of this?

"Why aren't you afraid? They said people would fear me," Mr. Dark says, inching toward me. Bracing myself against the chest of drawers, I keep him in my line of sight.

"You don't scare me". It is the honest truth. He should scare me, but he doesn't.

Mr. Dark lets loose a huge grin, leaning back on his haunches.

"Then you are the most interesting prey I've ever seen".

I have no time to be flattered as he lurches for my throat.

Ducking, I spin and roll. Having already anticipated my move, he locks on to my shin, pulling me back so I'm under him. Kneeing him in the face is Plan B. Effective, but not ideal. He takes the hit without so much as a flinch, the beginnings of a laugh escaping his lips. I knee him again, punch him in the jaw for good measure.

Eventually, he twitches enough for me scramble away. We face each other on each side of the room, my hands open, his flapping at his sides.

"I know how it feels to be locked away in your own head. No fun is it?" I whisper. Finally, someone deadlier than me.

Life has become very interesting indeed.

Mr. Dark wants to answer – I can see it in his eyes – but chooses not to. Typical. He's just like Light. He won't tell me anything about himself – about the Foundation – and he's driving me crazy. He doesn't reach out; he moves directly into my space.

Forcing me to vacate leaves me vulnerable as I have nowhere to go. Well, not quite.

Running at him once again, I slide between his armpit and the floor, aiming for the bathroom. The shower head is one of those retractable ones, which is just perfect.

Mr. Dark grunts, shaking his head. As he turns back toward me, the look in his eyes reminds me of one of those bulls from the fighting rings in Spain. He might as well be charging.

Grabbing the shower head, I jump onto the sink, wrap the cord around his throat and drag him to the tiles. It's a mess in here too. This guy sure gets around.

Tightening the shower cord, I notice how close I am to his hair. From here, the colour seems artificial, like a coating of paint on a car. Black hair. Very real and very useful. As he struggles, and my fingers start to slip, I sacrifice control for picking out a long strand of hair.

Falling back, I ease into a backward roll, jarring my elbows slightly on the tiles. Mr. Dark looms over me, a faint line around his neck from the shower cord that reminds me of a snake.

I am that snake.

He lunges for me, but I let him grab my throat. At first his hold crushes my windpipe, but gradually sinks into a relaxed grip. He's staring at me with the most confused expression.

"I don't want to kill you," he says matter-of-factly. Good. I call that progress. It's just a shame I view things a little differently. Latching my wrist onto his, I put him into a lock, move swiftly to his shoulder to enact an arm bar, which takes him to the floor.

"That makes you the first," I heave. It's been a long time since anyone has managed to keep up with me, truly keep up with me.

Mr. Dark doesn't seem too bothered as I latch onto his shoulder to bring him up. The position of my arm lock allows him minimal movement. Or at least it should do as seconds later, he breaks away with a force that would have broken a normal man's arm.

Dazed, I scrabble for the shower curtain, use it to pull myself up. He remains undeterred.

I find that I'm smiling at him. Not my satisfied smile, but a goofy one like a cartoon character.

What the hell am I doing? He just tried to kill me.

He cocks his head, trying to replicate the expression. As I move forward, he moves backward, the smile vanishing.

Before I can stop him, he shoves the window open, jarring the number lock all without setting it off, and jumps. I hear the thud outside as he lands. The clomp of his footsteps echo in time with my breath. What just happened? I must have inhaled steam from the drugged tea or something because that was insane.

Wonderfully, inexplicably insane.

Opening my palm, I find the single black hair still clutched between the lines of skin. I'm not sure whether staring at the open window is making me smile or the perfect piece of blackmail. It's probably both.

Closing my palm, I exit the room, shutting the door behind me.