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<div style="font-family:courier new; font-size:8px; color:#100008; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:justify; padding:5px; line-height:85%;">My dear, We're slow dancing in a burning room, I was the one you always dreamed of, You were the one I tried to draw, How dare you say it's nothing to me, Baby, you're the only light I ever saw, I'll make the most of all the sadness, You'll be a bitch because you can, You try to hit me just to hurt me, So you leave me feeling dirty, Because you can't understand, slow.</div>
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numbing. that was one word to describe that chaos that surrounded her in a cloud of mental instability. numb. numb from the pain course through her wounds, numb to the sounds of shrill screams and teeth gnashing howls, numb to the situation itself. completely in another world of denial to hold onto any last speck of fight and will under her skin. skin that used to be so tough, stretched thin so that every individual could see right through her, cut her down to size with each poke and prod and vile thing spewed into her ears. if a hell existed on earth without having human beings realize it, this was it. the agency was nothing but a calculated location made up of cold metal and hopeless people either screaming until their lungs burst, or becoming droid like to the point of no recognition of liveliness at all. she'd been here for weeks, becoming their personal punching bag and caged animal with the way she'd spit in their faces and sucker punch their shadowed jaws. the first few weeks had been spent constantly battling their rules, trying to escape her cell, attacking the never ending line of staff. soon the fire of her spirit had been enough for them, and a price had to be paid for her behavior. the second week was spent in literal mental and physical torture, poking and prodding, tests and threatening. the crack in her soul began to widen with each cry of pain she emitted, still trying to thrash for her life. the colder ones would whisper in her ear the things they'd do to her friends if she didn't start behaving, how they'd be mutilated for her own crimes. she had hurt their own, threatened government security with the way she slipped in and out of homes like an elusive shadow. of course they wanted to smash her will into a fine powder of nothing. the more they taunted her with anonymous calls to lynsey's phone, photos of cyrus traveling across towns, the more she began to crumble. she couldn't bear the thought of losing them, being the cause of something happening to any of them. nights spent in her frigid cell with the sounds of cries and pleading blended with endless fists beating bullet proof glass had her curled in a ball, rocking back and forth with the loss of her daily comforts. a soothing bed, somebody to speak to. a laugh to be heard or given, how she could just get up at three in the morning to bake a pie. but no, all such things had been swiped out from under her steady feet, and the independence she'd prided herself so heavily on had been stripped alongside her dignity. one wrong move, and the few people she gave a damn about would pay. all because she chose to use her stupid powers to wreck people's lives. then, it had been all fun and games, a total power play against men. now it didn't seem to matter much when she knew she was probably going to perish in this place anyway. dreams, achievements, plans, all swallowed in the blackened sea.
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once she had finally succumbed to their battle of wits, they had left her alone. the medical team had tried to clean her up several times, the wounds and scrapes scabbing over in a sweep of yellowing bruises. but she threw such a hysterical fit every time they came near, it hadn't been worth the trouble, no matter hos disarming they seemed. she didn't want them to touch her, to dare take any last emotion she had left within her. if she couldn't think, if she couldn't move, she wanted to at least look and know what had become of her. what would keep her hating them, to never trust their soon extending hands. the pain was numb to the thoughtless mass that was her brain anyway, completely void. dark circles cast over her once vibrant eyes and the slow reveal of her hip bones made for a haunting shell of a woman huddled in the corner of her cell, picking at her sore knuckles until they wept blood. the sound of metal scraping across the floor had her head snapping upwards to see her visitor, the very man that had put her in here. how it had been a vendetta against the fact that she had childishly wrecked his marriage, put his perfect little life into a pit of despair. if she had any will to smile devilishly at the memory, she would have. but even that kind of satisfaction couldn't cut the feeling of hope lost. instead she burned holes through his body with her gaze, hollow and hateful as he just stared at her like a dog that had been kicked too many times. in the last week she had refused to speak, she herself had been reduced to shrieks and wails. but her mouth cracked open with a dryness in her throat, her words cutting through the air with a acidic bitterness that could burn down the whole facility. "why don't you just kill me already you sorry son of a bitch." and that was how ava rose dupont had been seized and broken by one man. just. one.
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<div style="width:400px; Font-family:arial; font-size:7px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center; letter-spacing:6px;">MADE BY <A HREF="http://forums.athousandfireflies.com/index.php?showuser=6827">HEY MICKEY!</A> AT ATF.</div>

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<div style=" font-family:'cedarville cursive'; text-transform:lowercase; font-size:26px; text-shadow: #fff 1px 0px, #fff 0px 1px, #fff 0px -1px, #fff -1px 0px; color:#F76B9C;">YOU KNOW THAT WE'RE DOOMED</div>
<div style="font-family:courier new; font-size:8px; color:#100008; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:justify; padding:5px; line-height:85%;">My dear, We're slow dancing in a burning room, I was the one you always dreamed of, You were the one I tried to draw, How dare you say it's nothing to me, Baby, you're the only light I ever saw, I'll make the most of all the sadness, You'll be a bitch because you can, You try to hit me just to hurt me, So you leave me feeling dirty, Because you can't understand, slow.</div>
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she didn't understand her captor in the slightest. had his name been gavin? gaston? no, it had been gage. she could faintly remember the few times he'd be outside her cell speaking to one of the guards, spilling secrets of information, their next target trailing along the sea by sailboat in an attempt to evade. she hadn't even known what his back story was when she had so promptly chosen to wreck his life, he'd just been too easy to pin with that southern charm and bright eyed stare for his fiance. the same one ava had watched storm out their front door in a hazard of half open suitcases while he had chased after her, pleading. how there hadn't been a smidgen of guilt at the time because it had been fun to watch a simpleton's life crumble to bits over the mere idea of love. it only further proved to ava that such a thing didn't exist, how if one woman couldn't trust the love of her life, then what was the point of a relationship at all? trust was the foundation, the solid plate that allowed two people to fall into one another. and clearly gage and his bride to be didn't have it, with just one bra hanging off the lamp shade and a tube of lipstick on the counter, they had crashed into the water and floundered. somehow he managed to pick himself back up enough to find the source of this happening, that being ava, and took her out. if she hadn't been so bitter she might have admired his gusto for being the one man to actually capture her, out con the con. but the treatment she had received on top of the mind fuck that followed with nurses trying to handle her like tear-able tissue, it all trumped the possibility for ava to think fondly of this guy. all he ever did was sit and stare at her with this vacant, lost look that made her want to scream. she didn't want to be helpless, she'd had enough of that as a teenager. she'd scraped and pulled all her life to get to this point of greatness, to actually be a real woman about to run a business, have a few friends to mingle with instead of talking to thin air. now here she was again, at the mercy of life's villains and psychos trying to 'fix' her lack of normalcy. to train her to be good again, the same way the first guy she ever loved had trained her to be a strong girl. all of those lessons went out the door the minute the smoke of threats began to screen her ability to stay cement thick, visions of the people she cared for bleeding to death alone, never seeing it coming. and how it would basically be by her hand, her fault. and that was why she loathed this man as much as she would favor a cockroach. as much as her splendor for mucking things up put her here, he was the final nail in the coffin that allowed the agency to treat her not as a human being with an extra ability she hadn't asked for, but a monster. an animal. a speck of dirt ground against the soles of their shoes. the fact that his face shown signs of sympathy for the way she looked gone to the world she lived in, it was complete hypocrisy. he wanted to catch the big bad wolf, so why didn't he just pull out the rifle and submerge the bullet past her flesh, straight into her shallow heart? she didn't know. but the more the days rolled by with the aches stiffening her joints, the ringing in her ears permeated by shrieks, the more she wished he'd just get it over with already.
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he was standing over her like a poor excuse for god, the same smartass gleam in his eyes and the simple shake of his hair that made her wish she had a pair of scissors to hack it all off. and maybe lodge them into his windpipe while she was at it. but instead of the typical drone of questions he asked her, or the flicker of his fingers for her to get in cuffs and follow him to the testing lab, he held the door wide open with a gust of sterilized air, and confusion began to flood her face. not much time, for what? was this it, were they going to execute her today and burn her body to ashes? let her spirit filter their air with it's rage? no, he wasn't picking her up. there was no metal clink of cuffs against his hip to signal that she was being carted off like fodder for chickens. just a wide expanse of hall ahead of her, no bodies protecting it with their tasers and hand guns. "what are you playing at?" she mumbled, but the seconds ticked by with no means for movement, and ava wasn't stupid. the runner in her cried do or die, and she wasn't about to let even a trick stop her from at least trying once more to get out of this god forsaken hole. it took every ounce of strength after being so stoic for so long to shift up off the ground, before she broke off into the best run she could. everything felt blurry and out of place, the adrenaline was mixing with her lack of energy to give the halls a fun house like feel. but instead of running into mirrors, she was running into steel walls. unaware of where she was going she heaved breaths as her feet batted into the floor, going down every corridor and taking every sharp turn to avoid seeing any officers along the way. it wasn't until she heard the equal sound of shoes behind her did ava realize gage was with her, following her. in fact, trying to get ahead of her. had he planned this, was he breaking her out? everything was twisting around her mind like a snare she couldn't free from, and if it weren't for the need to survive, she'd probably just fall to the floor asking why. the sudden screech of an alarm made her press her hands to her ears, red lights glowing over their flushed faces as they were suddenly met with the sound of voices at the end of the hall, guns cocking and a spray of bullets just barely missing the top of her head. she took off in the opposite direction, trying to yell over the noise as panic began to flood her system like a tidal wave. "where do we go?!" another bullet whizzed past her ankle, she could feel the whoosh past her limb as they took another turn, practically diving out of the way of their impending death. "gage where do we go?!" for once in her life her expression was masked not by casual smirks or a flicker of evil, but by raw fear, tears pricking at her water line and the endless pleads for him to lead the way leaving her mouth. she didn't want to die like this, not like a rat in a maze. not running after years of finally being able to settle down in effortless peace.
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<div style="width:400px; Font-family:arial; font-size:7px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:center; letter-spacing:6px;">MADE BY <A HREF="http://forums.athousandfireflies.com/index.php?showuser=6827">HEY MICKEY!</A> AT ATF.</div>

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