SHOT in the Back

Eleven Years Ago…

“Dear sweet, innocent little brother,” fifteen year old Stefan, as he was known among his fellows, eldest of the three Karmts brother chuckled as he plopped down onto an old sofa, dragging his younger brother Damon down into the seat next to him by the scruff of the neck. “Ah-ta-ta-ta-ta: you and I are in need of a little talk!”

Though they shared the same violent red eyes and same dark hair, though Stefan’s looked more as though it was tinted with a dark blue, it was a little difficult to believe they were brothers at times. In contrast with his scrawny little twelve year old brother, Stefan was rather well built, for a fifteen year old, lean and his muscles finally starting to come into their own, a point he had decided to flaunt by wondering around with his shirt unbuttoned. And thanks to puberty, Stefan’s features were starting to mature properly; he looked the part enough to pass for someone a good three or four years his senior. His little brother on the other hand had yet to lose all of the innocence from his face, still retaining a little baby fat with wide eyes and messy bedhead.

Stefan just found it hilarious. Something else they differed on, Damon was quiet and liked to keep to himself and had a tendency towards sarcasm and being a snark when he did speak – Stefan on the other hand was loud, a party animal if there ever was one, usually armed with a beer in one hand and a girl on the other. He extruded confidence, walking into every room like he owned it, oozing charisma and charm, whether he had to use the deep-eye-stare or that half-hearted flirtatious smirk he enjoyed wearing so often when accompanied by an attractive girl who would swoon over his looks. Given another year or two, when he’d be a real man, he’d be able to compete with the best Marisol had to offer.

Sighing as he threw his feet up on the old table, Stefan threw his arm around his younger brother and dragged him to as close to him as he possibly mange. “Y’know, little brother, I appreciate it if you didn’t mouth off to me like that in the future. You honestly think I give a rats ass about whether something is yours or not?” The old Karmts gave a bark of laughter as his brother squirmed in his grip but he didn’t loosen his hold.

“Let me give you some advice worth remembering, dear little brother: nothing in this life is really yours!” Stefan threw his other hand forward, his bottle of beer pinch around the neck by a pair of fingers. “You see, nobody truly owns anything – not while there’s someone else out there that can take it from you! So what do you think the solution to that problem is?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“God, you’re not very bright are you?” Stefan cackled, bringing his beer back to his lips before taking a large swig. “The solution is this: extermination!” A few of Stefan’s closer flunkies who had been in ear shot cheered at the exclamation, and the older boy smirked at hearing the noise; looking completely psychotic. “You want something and make sure it belongs to you, exterminate all those that can take it from you!”

He’d jumped up from the sofa now; standing on the table he raised his arms as everyone’s attention was suddenly fixed on him. “We might be young, but we are many! This city has spat on us for as long as we’ve all been alive and it’s about time we get some payback, so we’ll take it for ourselves by any means necessary. The de Lucas? The Chings? Fossils from yesteryear! My people it is time that we did away with the past and brought the future to Marisol; and we’ll burn it to the ground before we let someone else have it!”

Another cheer, more swigs of alcohol in agreement at the proclamation. Whilst many wanted to believe they could do it, everyone knew that they’d never amount to the power the two families had. But nobody, not even Stefan, knew that one day they would actually get close. In time Stefan would lead them all on to victory after victory and actually pose a credible threat to the two warring families of Marisol with a gang he’d made himself out of spite at fourteen to get back at cops for giving him trouble – had those cops known he would go on to be the largest mass murder Marisol had ever seen; with only his little brother coming in a close second, they’d properly shot him in the head there and then: nobody would have judged them for it.

The gang would soon be known as the one lead by a man with the face like an angel and the soul of a demon and a monster as his right arm of destruction: Stefan and Spike. But even in the final days of Stefan’s reign, his little brother could not escape his shadow or flee from the bloody legacy his brother had left behind in his wake. Spike might have been a monster, but Stefan was a demon from the darkest pits of hell, his features marred only by the black, gothic-like symbol tattooed over the right side of his face.

But none of that had come to pass just yet, monstrous acts for days soon to come. But the words that followed Stefan’s little rousing speech as he dropped back down onto the sofa would set it all in motion – and something much more that would not become apparent for many years to come.

“You get were I’m coming from now, little brother?” he was wagging the bear bottle around in front of Damon’s face, “You might think you’re on top, that you own everything. But as long as there is someone around who can take it away again it’s never really yours. So, will you help me take this city for ourselves; Exterminate everyone who gets in our way? But I can only get so far without you, little brother, so help me. And together we’ll be kings! Together we’ll be the better class of criminal this city deserves!

“From the moment we were both born we were destined for only one thing.” Stefan’s deranged smile had returned, wider than ever. His voice had gone soft yet it stayed maniacal, his breathing quick and eyes round. “Y’know what me and you are little brother? We’re agents of chaos! Mad dogs chasing cars. And together we’ll unleash true chaos upon this city: unbiased; unprejudiced; fair - that is what chaos really is. That’s what we are destined to become. What say you?”

Damon could only stare at the hand his older brother offered him. He was twelve years old and he didn’t really realise what stretching out his hand to shake would cause, but he did it anyway. Why? Because Stefan was his big brother and he’d follow him anywhere. With that one handshake a monster and a demon were born: but nobody knew or cared, Stefan was too busy laughing manically as he ordered someone to bring his brother a new beer whilst Damon was surprised to find his brother found him so important to his plans.

Jumping out of his seat, Stefan left his brother to sit in thought and drink his little beer as he swept among his people; his fellow outcasts from society: the ones who would reshape Marisol for once and for all. And after a while, he stumble across a blond girl his age who took his fancy. Blondes were his favourite.

“And who might you be, new face?”

“Names Lila Summers, hotshot,” And with that introduction, something else was started. But that wouldn’t be important for a while yet. Until the present day actually when everything Stefan had started would come back to haunt Marisol like nothing else had…


“An agent of chaos ‘til then end, then…?” a man commented as he stood before the grave of Damon Karmts. Running a hand through his freshly cut hair, short and spiked with style: just how he liked. It felt weird, having nicely washed and trimmed hair again after nearly nine years in prison. He honestly didn’t understand why he’d been let out on parole: someone, or perhaps a few people, were no doubt paid off to make that one happen. He had been happy to sit and rot in jail until judgment day finally came calling.

But apparently someone had plans for him. And to have picked him out of all the scum they could have chosen from… well it was all too clear that those plans were obviously far from pleasant from his selection alone.

So, he’d been unleashed upon the unsuspecting world a second time, thanks to good behaviour and some weird ass lawyer from down south who called himself Lindsay Elliot. The man had hailed from some firm he’d never even heard of before: something-something-Hart or the like. He hadn’t been paying too much attention at the time; just the very idea that someone had overturned his life sentence was enough to shock him into silence.

Him of all people stunned into silence. It was laughable.

But after getting him out of jail, uber-lawyer Lindsay had given him a case full of cash, telling him to go get himself cleaned up; get something nice to wear and then come here to pay his respects, before handing him a card saying that if he needed a good lawyer, he was only a phone call away.

At first he honestly didn’t know what the southerner had been yakking about when he said come to this cemetery and pay his respect: he didn’t need to go look at tombstones in a cemetery to remember every single one of his victims faces – their names. Don’t avert your eyes from death; remember the faces of those that you kill because they’ll never forget your face. His farther had said it to him once, and he’d taken to saying it to Daman often during their reign of terror together, though he doubted Damon paid him any heed on the matter.

Now; now however he understood. He might not have killed Damon Karmts himself; but he might as well as have; he destroyed his life and shaped him into a monster of destruction. He would never forget; because there was never any forgiveness for wanton murder. How many people alone would still be alive today if we hadn’t happened?

And there he was, dressed in a nice, crisp black suit jacket and matching pants, with a red velvet shirt worn beneath, slightly ruffled but he still looked rather sharp as he stood before his little brother’s grave. “Damon you bastard, I was the one supposed to go hell first not you...” Siegrain Eric Stefan Karmts, named after his grandfathers and carrying his mother’s maiden name, shook his head, adjusting his tinted sunglasses as he looked from the grave stone to the ground.

This was not how things were supposed to be at all. What kind of demon out lived his own younger brother? Unable to help himself, for the first time in over twenty years, Siegrain crashed to his knees and wept before his brother’s grave.

Wishing more than ever that the paramedics never actually made it to him the night his brother had tried to kill him… he wanted to die; but was too much of a coward to do it himself. He’d tried; more than a good few times he’d tried; but he’d either lost his nerve or someone had caught him before he could go through with it; and every time he’d been caught he’d never been more thankful; because he wasn’t done and part of him still wanted to live on. Now he just wanted to die.

Either way he still had one last job to do. After all, Orpheus had only just arrived...

Someone had once told her that, though the battles may stop, the war between Ching and de Luca would continue every morning as long as the sun rose. Staring at the ice cream cone feeling utterly lost, Carlotta could not stress the truth in this saying enough. Now she knew that all Chings weren't evil (it had struck her not so long ago that maybe she'd always known, and Carlotta hadn't recovered entirely from that shock yet). Now she knew that her mother wasn't coming back. Now she knew that, despite everything she'd grown up learning, life went on, even without the war.

And seventeen year old Carlotta de Luca, try as she might to rejoice at peace, was having trouble embracing it.

In the corner of her vision, a group of children played with a ball. Carlotta licked her ice cream, not really tasting it. Those children? They were the envy of her life. She couldn't remember ever playing like that, even while her parents were still with her.

The war! No one played that carelessly when the two richest families in Marisol fought tooth and nail, but the war hadn't only brought nightmares. Fighting the Chings had been a sort of...constant. It was something Carlotta had been sure would rage as long as she lived; yet one morning she'd awoken to find everything in her world crashing down around her.

The others...they'd moved on (leaving her behind?). Carlotta knew for sure that Andrea (Miss Angel...was sadly a thing of the past) was enrolled in college courses while raising her son. Her uncle and Myrrh - they'd taken it upon themselves to pick up the pieces of a broken Marisol and help it stand again (this was mainly Dom's ambition; Myrrh simply went along with anything that would make Carlotta's uncle happy). And in the end, Carlotta...

She was all alone again. People she'd known - dead and gone with the wind. She'd not mourned until years after the conflict ended - had gone on too long without once thinking about those she'd left behind in her wake.

But now it all came back to haunt her. Those years - fourteen years of her life - gone! Wasted! Destroyed like a block tower by an overeager toddler. Carlotta, through it all, had told herself not to weep for the fallen; they wouldn't appreciate it. She blinked away her sadness. More than ever, she had to be strong. She'd survived a war, and she couldn't break down now. As the niece of the de Luca head, she was something of a figurehead. She held little to no power, but there were some who remembered all she had been and still looked up to her. Carlotta hadn't been the only one to lose something. They'd all lost it.

Carlotta dumped her ice cream in the trash (something she'd once never dare to do) and stood. The routine of her life was something she'd grown to despise, so she'd do the logical thing and break it. Today, she'd do something new or meet someone new or achieve something new.

This was it.

And for once in her life, Carlotta felt...mature.

Maeryn de Luca was laying quietly on her bed with a book. There was a family meeting later today, and Maeryn didn't want to go. She knew nothing would come of it, just talk about how much they hate the Chings and discussing how awesome Orpheus is for those who were hooked on it. Those who weren't would be trying to tell them how bad it was for them.

Often she hated her family for being like this, simply because they couldn't behave like they were normal. She wanted a normal family, one that would talk about school at dinner and go to the park. Maeryn never had that as a kid. Her father, Jackson, was too busy trying to build her into a killing machine. And he was successful. Martial arts classes, gun range trips, knives for Christmas, everything. She hated every minute of it, but she never dared to question it.

Now that she was older, Dad used her as an assassin. When there wasn't someone on the hit list, she was ignored. And she often liked it like that, but sometimes she just wanted a father's love. She doubted Dad loved her, he was too wrapped up in everything. She hated it. She hated him. And unless she was summoned for the meeting, she would stay here reading yet another book.

Caesar mentally sighed as he drove his motorcycle into the safe house he was staying at. It was a secret place, that not even the De Lucas, or the Chings knew about, and that's how he liked it. It had been nearly a year since he had rode in to this hell-hole of a town, and began working for both the families as an assassin. No one exactly knew who he was, and where he was fro. Heck, they couldn't even figure out his exact age. It was how he was able to keep under the radar so well, no one knew anything about him.

He began to whistle as he climbed the stairs of the building, and into his room. He went to the fridge, and got himself a beer. It hadn't exactly been a long or hard day, he was able to handle most jobs with ease, he just wanted a drink.

Caesar stared out the window, starring at the city around him. He didn't like this city, not one bit. The only reason he was here, was cause this was an easy place to get work, with the skills he had.

Karl wandered through the graveyard, comeing up to two gravestones, marked with his last name. Five years... No De Luca came to the funeral. Not even Andrea... he thought while bending down to the graves of his parents. A Ching had attacked them, figuring they were real De Luca, or that they could piss the De Luca off by killing them.

That Ching was wrong. No one had really noticed.

Then Karl recalled Spike, how he had really fucked over his life. At first they were friends, and didn't seem to have anything wrong. No problems with each other. But then. That bastard, whoever he was that had called him and pretty much threatened him, fucked everything over. Hercules was dead, that Ching captive had gotten away. And guess who got blamed for it.

Him.

He wasn't even supposed to be in the conflict... But yet, he had been tortured, shot at, had his house shot at, had to leave. Oh, and then the person he loved so much went and...well...had Damon's kid. Then Damon up and died, and pretty much left him with the kid.

Not that there was anything wrong with the kid...he just...felt it odd to be called 'dad' by the kid. He felt it was out of place, he wasn't the kids father. Not to mention he always felt kind of sad whenever he looked at the kid.

This life sure did seem to love to screw him over in some way or another.

---

"Ahh, Marisol, it's been far too long darling!" A certain assassin said as he stepped off the bus. His briefcase hiding the sniper rifle as usual, while his long leather jacket hit the eagles. "Been far too long since I last visited here and saw it go all to hell!"

"Clan meeting," Dominick de Luca sighed, kicking his chair back on two legs. Surveying his desk with distaste, he noted that Myrrh had cleaned up his loose papers when he hadn't been watching. Said bodyguard was now filing away mail across the room. Myrrh paused to acknowledge Dom.

"What for?"

Dom laughed, but there was a distinct lack of humor in his tone. "You know why. There's always talk within our ranks about this peace - now that they don't spend their time fighting, they spend their time talking about fighting. That and this Orpheus business."

Myrrh cocked his head. "Hit them with an insubordination charge and be done with it," he advised, knowing Dom wouldn't. The de Luca head, predictably, shook his head good-naturedly. "Sir, you know you used to be among them too."

"And wasn't life much easier back then," Dom retorted. He fumbled through a stack of documents that required his signature before giving up. "Anyway, there's nothing we can do now except cope." That seemed to be his mantra now; just go with the flow and survive. Everything had changed so radically and quickly - having grown up during the time of the clan war, Dom was beginning to feel a bit outdated. "How's Carlotta been doing?"

Myrrh shook his head. "You know I don't see her much."

"You live with her," said Dom, not really surprised. His niece had taken to walking around town, a frivolity she'd been denied during the war. "What about the infantry?" It was an insensitive, yet affectionate nickname for the hitmen, mercenaries, etc. under the de Luca household. Despite the peace, Myrrh had begun to supervise their training regiment and assignments. "Anyone interesting?"

Myrrh hummed for a beat. "Jackson's kid," he eventually offered. "Reminds me of Andrea. She should be at the clan meeting, but I don't know her all that well."

Dom nodded, taking this in. He remembered seeing her around infrequently. "Speaking of Andrea, you've visited her? How is she?"

"She's well," Myrrh said. "Better than anyone would have expected. Better than she would have been if..." If the war had persisted. Myrrh coughed lightly. "She's your cousin, you know. It's sad you only talk through me. She'd like to see you."

Dominick smiled. "We'll see then. Now about that meeting. Get ready for it."

Andrea glared at the computer screen in front of her balefully, as if trying to will her essay to be typed by thought alone. The woman raked her hand through already unruly locks of dark hair.

If I knew writing a college thesis would be this difficult I wouldn't have been so hasty about my choice to go back to school. Andrea sighed, leaning back against her desk chair to stare up at the ceiling. Can't believe it's been four years already...

So much happened in such a short amount of time. She had a child, she was married to the person that she loved... except the child wasn't her husbands'.

But Karl still loves him. Even though... It was her own damn fault in the first place. She could make all the excuses she liked. That at the time she was hurting, that she was fed up, that she had pitied him... but it didn't change anything. What would have happened anyway, if Damon had survived the joint attack against the Mayor. Would things have been different?

I can't regret the things that happened or the things I've done. I have a good life now and I should be grateful. All I need to focus on now is giving Maxie the life I never had. The woman groaned and went back to facing the computer screen, and started to type. She had to at least have the outline done before her son woke up from his nap.

"...I miss it." She said to herself. In the 'office' that was strewn with picture books and toys, before goign back to work.

"Hey...It's been awhile, hasn't it, mom, uncle?" Lena said, a said tone in her voice, as she stood in front of two gravestones. "I brought you guys some more flowers."

It had been nearly six years since her mother had died, and about four since James was killed in the final battle. "You don't nee to worry about me, I've been doing well, I've been able to make a living, and I've been working with a friend of mine..." She said, putting on her best smile, but it still gave off a feeling of sadness. "...Will is still missing, but he's ok, I don't know where he is, or what he's doing, but he's ok, and he still writes to let me know that he's doing well..."

Four years ago, when her uncle had been killed, and the reveal that she and Will were of Ching blood, she had been forced to take shelter with the De Lucas, who helped her survive the last four years. In the last fours years, there had been about twelve attempts on her life, and there were only a few she could trust anymore. Her brother left Marisol, and went into hiding. All she knew was that he was alive and well, and that's all she cared about, but still...

Her whole family was gone now, and now all she had left were a few close friends to watch her back. But she wasn't going to let it get to her. She would not rely on her family anymore.

"Sorry, I have to go...I have work to do, tonight." She said, before turning around, and leaving the graveyard.

Karl placed red and white flowers on both graves, before he stood up with a silent sigh. His father had used to say 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonaide' of course, pretty much everyone said that... But then his mother had always said to throw them back and demand something else.

Either way, life still moved on for him, while life stood still for them.

"Well...I had best be going. Bye..." Karl said to the gravestones, giving them a small wave as he started on his way. He always hated being in cemeteries, so creepy, so saddening. He briefly wondered how many people had actually lost their lives to the war between the De Lucas and Chings. How much innocent blood had been shed.

Doque lay sprawled out on her couch, feeling rather bored. Without all the Ching/de Luca fights, Marisol had actually become something close to peaceful, and her hours had gotten cut big time. While she was as happy as the next person about not having to worry about getting shot at, but she did miss her job.

The woman let out a groan of frustration, loading her Nerf gun and shooting at one of the paper targets on the wall. Bullseye. Again. At least watching the damn Ching girl would cure her boredom.

Caesar sighed, before putting the beer back in the fridge, having only taken a few sips of it. He needed something to drink, but it looks like alcohol wasn't going to cut it. He needed something to kick-start him for the day...

Time to get some coffee, he guessed. He left the safe-house, before walking a couple blocks down to a good coffee shop he knew of. He entered the shop, and walked up to the line. It was several minutes before he reached the front, where he placed his order.

A few minutes later, he left the coffee shop, drink in hand. He quickly took a sip, letting the caffeine take hold of him.

"Doque?" Melena mumbled sleepily, walking into the room carrying a worn down teddy bear that looked like something from a horror movie. She had insisted on it looking like it had been splattered with blood(which it had been, just not human blood) as it made her feel better. Mel was wearing a start white nightgown, having woken up recently from one of the naps she liked to take often.

After being more or less dumped on the Child Service's doorstep with a note she had led a pretty dull life up to that point, though not unhappy. She felt somewhat normal and was looking forward to living on her own; maybe getting a kitty and her own apartment. Not that she didn't like Doque; the woman was nice enough to her, definitely more friendly than her past trainers.

Carlotta stared in wonderment as she watched elementary schoolers draw some sort of number and square pattern on the sidewalk with chalk. They then lined up and took turns throwing rocks onto the numbers, hopping on one foot, then two, then one - all the way until the reached the 10 square. What kind of game were they playing? Carlotta didn't understand the appeal of such a pastime.

She moved along, taking in the displays in the windows of stores - some of them were pointless trinkets that were pretty, yes, but pointless in owning. Carlotta felt a bit sheltered; some of the toys she'd never seen before. I mean, she understood dolls (she'd had some before when her mother was still...), and she understood cards and dice - but really, spinning tops? Who cared? And these new yo-yo things. It was just a string on a piece of plastic. What was the appeal?

She wasn't looking where she was going and eventually ran headlong into a random guy.

"Wha-!" Caesar said in surprise as someone walked into him, causing him to spill his coffee. "Oh, damnit!" He said, starring at the spilt hot beverage, before sighing. At least it didn't end up on him. That certainly would have been very painful. He then turned to the person who had ran into him, wondering if they were blind.

Carlotta looked up to see a shady looking guy in shades and a hood. She rolled her eyes. Kids. Thinking they were so cool or something imitating gangsters.

"Sorry," she said shortly, turning to sidestep him. Another toy in a store window distracted her. A "jigsaw puzzle"? Please, the picture of the end-product was right there on the cover! What kind of puzzle was that?

Caesar stared right after her, wondering if she was a blind idiot or something, before sighing, and heading back in to the shop to get another coffee. If he didn't need it so bad, he would start to think that it was beginning to get expensive.

The prison gates opened too slowly for his liking. Robert Briggs had managed to survive thrity years in Oswald State Correctional Facility. Now that he was done, and extra minute or two seemed like far too long. Now that his time was done, he had to question whether he was 'corrected', as various people over his time had put it. And now, now that he could finally get an unobstructed glimpse of the world outside his prison, he couldn't help but wonder what had changed out there, and in himself.

------------

He splashed more water off his face, the faint hope that he would wake up from a nasty dream getting fainter by the day. He wouldn't pretend that his situation was dramatic. He just felt a more than a little bit out of his element. Life in the present day was completely different from prison, and after being so impatient to get out he was shocked to find himself actually missing his old residence.

"At least then I didn't have to pack people's bags for a living," he muttered, standing upright, wiping his face with a towel. At least he had a day off today, which he planned to use to catch up on current affairs. Though he would start off a little in the past, he thought, with a trip to the graveyard. Robert put on his coat, scratching his chin and reflecting he probably should have shaved as he walked out the door of his crappy, run-down apartment block.

It didn't take him long to walk to the graveyard, pushing open the gate and humourlessly noting that the main reason the gate was so well oiled was the the graveyard was constantly in use.

Doque glanced over at Mel, frowning slightly at the rather gruesome excuse for a teddy bear. "What's wrong? Need something?" she asked, shooting at a different target. Damn. Missed the bullseye.

"No, just had a bad dream..." Mel mumbled, sliding into a chair and hugging the teddy bear to her stomach. It had been quite a fun dream at first; she had been after a target, who or what she couldn't remember, and every time she had been within reach of cutting its throat it just slipped out of reach until finally disappearing. It was quite disturbing to her, as she had been trained to never let a target escape.

Doque sighed, standing up and tossing the toy gun on the couch. "Why don't we go out for doughnuts or something? I'm sure it'll make you feel better," she offered. Plus, she was a bit freaked out by how the girl kept hugging that bear. Hopefully she would leave it at home.

"Okay..." Mel replied quietly, "I'd like that...thank you." Pastries and sweets were her favorite food, like many people, but her deprivation of them made them extra special to her. It also gave her a sense of freedom, as she no longer had to worry about staying in shape(though she did so anyways) and got to do many things she didn't normally do. She glanced around the room at the several targets Doque had been shooting at. Her caretaker didn't miss, and that was something she'd remember later.

Doque smiled at her charge, walking towards the door and not bothering to change out of her fluffy pink slippers. They were comfortable. "Grab some shoes and let's go, then," she instructed, pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail. Appearance was not something she cared about off the job. Despite hating the cops love doughnuts stereotype, she certainly did love doughnuts, and Mel liked sweet things, too. Doughnuts were a good snack for the two of them.

"Perhaps I should change into some proper clothes.." Mel suggested lightheartedly, stepping out of the room for a second before returning with her usual dress and some shoes on. She was half certain she'd get funny looks for walking out in just a nightgown, not to mention the teddy bear she was bringing along regardless of her attire. It made her feel better.

Lena sighed as she returned back to the base of operations, that she lived at with her partner. She pulled out the key, unlocking the door, before entering the building. It wasn't to high tech, but it was a pretty good place, and it provided all she needed to get a job done.

As she looked around, she noticed that he was still out. "Great..." She said with a sigh, before pulling out her cell. What could they be doing now, when the job was today? Shaking her head, she dialed a number on her cell, waiting for them to pick up.

Doque didn't frown when she saw that Mel was still hugging the bloody teddy bear, but certainly felt like it. If she was in charge of getting this girl accustomed to a normal life, she was going to have to wean her off the bear. It wouldn't do for her to carry around a stuffed animal when she was thirty, let alone a blood soaked one. "Off we go, then," she grinned, much less concerned about her rather odd appearance. She walked out the door of her apartment, holding it open for Mel.