Blacklight S2 (R)

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Inviting Emma over to their table would be a true testament to his self-control. Seeing her practically exude a sensual confidence was enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine as she sashayed over to him, blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. He’d regret the temporary diversion later on that night, but he doubted anything horrible would come of it. The hour was still young, and seldom anyone left until after midnight.

“Surprise me,” Elijah replied, another grin peeking over the rim of his shot glass as he took another swallow. He was a naturally-bred heavy weight, but still made an imperative note that this would be his last drink. Elijah wasn’t willing to dull any of his senses.

Jennings, following suit, snapped a finger for another stripper to traipse over to him, skin dark and luminous with hair cut to the jaw. She hardly captured Elijah’s attention though; not when there was another ridiculously gorgeous woman bringing her hands down to his shoulders and massaging firm circles against the fabric. His lips were parted by the time she brought her body closer, legs straddling his lap as her mouth suckled on the tender skin of his earlobe, goose bumps breaking out against his skin.

“Christ,” he cursed, fingers snapping playfully at her garter string before trailing along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh.

“Are you alright, Mr. Churchill?” she breathed, pure teasing smoldering in her hazel eyes. “This isn’t too much for you, is it?” He cupped her jaw, bringing her face as close to his, lips dragging against hers before she recoiled. “Ah, ah. I don’t kiss the customer, sweetheart, no matter how...attractive they happen to be.”

Elijah couldn't help but snicker at her incredulously, before he was shrugging in response. “I break the rules, love.” Then, pulling her close to him again, he smashed his lips against hers, fingers tangled in her hair as they moved simultaneously against the other’s mouth. The music seemed to dull in comparison, their chests pressed as tightly together as humanely possible as she instinctively gyrated into his lap, fingers dancing around the nape of his neck before she was tugging on the hair there. Several seconds later she was placing two firm hands against his chest, eyes glazed with passion.

“I have…other business to attend to,” she whispered while dismounting him, their gazes meeting with another tattoo-clad Triad member a few tables away.
“Good luck,” he found himself responding, although he was still short of breath. His hand reached out to pat her back side while she was walking away as her lips popped open in well-concealed disguise.
“And you,” she may have responded, although it was drowned out by the increasing volume of the music.

Elijah then turned back to Jennings, the weasley man looking lonely and slightly disappointed as he swirled the liquor in his glass. “Where were we?”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Mr. Triad was waiting when she returned, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his gaze seeking her out impatiently. She gave him a brief, reassuring wave when his gaze caught hers, and with it returned the sense of impending nausea. Sure, the brief encounter with Elijah had reenergised her, rejuvenating her confidence in what had to be done (not to mention, made her horny as hell; Emma had already mapped out what she planned to do the second this mission was over, and it solely involved her Elijah and the only bed within the RV). The quicker this thing was over, the better for her, and if his kiss was anything to go by, him too.

The moment Emma was within reaching distance, Van made a grab for her, his beefy arms surrounding her, pinning her to him hot, sweaty body. His lips brushed at her ear. “I saw that,” he murmured angrily, hands skirting down the length of her back. “That fucker kissed you, and you let him.”
Emma tried to force down the uncomfortable wave riding at her, it brushed away the arousal Elijah had left behind easily, leaving no trace of its existence. This guy had the special ability of turning a woman off in a matter of seconds.

She breathed in deeply, attempting to clear her foggy mind. “I had to, baby,” Emma purred, hands cupping his shoulders. “I told you, he's a regular. The boss wants me to keep him happy; when he wants a kiss, I have to give him one.”
“That was more than a kiss. Anyone looking would have thought you were two sweethearts, loved up to the eyeballs.” Something dark entered his eyes then, a mixture of jealousy and rage. Clearly this guy didn't like people having what he didn't, what he wanted too.

Fingers locked around her wrist like a shackle. “I'm done with dancing.”

Van tugged at her arm, nearly sending her flying into his back when her heels slid on the laminate flooring. She'd just about managed to master walking in them, but running or so much as a fast-paced stroll was too much.
“Come on!” He barked.
“Steady on, baby, I can only go so fast...” She looked about the crowd, searching desperately for the face she needed to see.

Elijah's intense stare caught hers a millisecond before it was cut off by the walls of the suite corridor Van was leading her down.

The hall was long, with doors lining the deep red walls on either side, muffled noises of the occupants inside reaching through the thin wood and velvet curtains, grunts and groans, desperate cries and female screams filled with pleasure danced over the distant music of the club.
It sickened her to think of what life would be like living as one of these girls, to have a different man on top of you every night, sometimes multiple times in a day, doing with you as he pleased because he was paying for it. That was how her mother had lived.
To Emma, sex was tied directly with love, the intimacy of the act alone told her as much; the tender pets and lingering kisses, rhythmic heartbeats and whispers of sweet nothing's. When Elijah and her came together it was an explosion of passion and love, and the thought of ever handing her body to anyone else... It was unthinkable.
Sure, Elijah had been around the block a few times in his life, but he'd be the first to admit what those unions had meant to him, what they'd been like in comparison to what they now shared. A fumble, a quick release.

Van stopped abruptly at an open door, swotting the curtain aside and pushing her inside the room. “Get on the bed.” He commanded, all sense of his earlier seduction vanished.
Emma did as she was told, hesitantly climbing on top of the large kind-sized bed as he charged to the coffee table across from her, a waiting bowl of foil packets now the subject of his attention.

The room was made up of dark reds and browns, the furniture matching, the artistic pictures hanging from the walls mainly of naked woman, their bodies for the world to see. Silk covered the bed, the finest materials Emma had seen and felt before. It brushed at her skin like a caressing hand.

“Take your clothes off.”
His words soon had her forgetting the silk sheets. She looked up at him, her eyes widening at the sight of him undressing - his trousers fell to the floor first, far too quickly followed by his underpants.

Dear. God.

Bile rose in her throat, and a tremor rocked her body. She had not signed up for this shit, oh no, no, no. Emma had seen a few naked men in her time, only one being on purpose, but this was something else, something she never wanted to see again.
She sat back onto her legs, ready to make a bolt for the door, when Van dropped his jacket to the floor, revealing his white shirt underneath and the key-card hanging from his neck. Through the thin material, Emma could noticeably make out the Triad symbol etched onto the plastic.

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!

A slow smile curved at her lips as crooked a finger at him, encouraging him forward. “Come on, baby, give me all you got.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Every fiber of his being wanted to push himself up from the table and break the neck of the fucker that was tugging Emma down the curtained-off corridor. However, Jennings was more than finished with distractions and only wanted the millions that resided in the suitcase next to his foot. Elijah needed the information as well before it was too late and he knew Emma was more than capable of disemboweling anyone that roughed her up. She’d be fine.

“You said the headquarters was downstairs,” Elijah continued, clasping his fingers together. “How does one gain access?”
Jennings swirled the hard liquor in his glass, beady eyes illuminated by the flashing strobe lights. Elijah briefly caught Beth over to the side, sitting gracefully on the lap of a stranger and his many friends, fingers raking through his hair seductively. “Only a select group of Triad members wear the key around their necks or in their pockets. If one were to access the card, although they’re extremely difficult to simply snatch, they’d be able to get through the doors underground leading into the base. However, it’s not a cake walk going inside. Dozens of guards patrol the entrance with the largest guns you’d probably ever seen. They’re trained in preventing an outside source from getting in.”
“And if you were faking as a Triad member?” he inquired, settling back in his chair. They were relatively good at playing disguise, so if they had to—

“Impossible. They have photo identification of every single man and/or women that would have access into the base. If you’re file doesn’t match up, they’ll put a pretty little bullet through your head. That, or a chip. You’d get the former if you were lucky.”

He cleared his throat, examining Jennings face carefully. There was the extremely large possibility that he could be bullshitting them into believing everything he said, only to lead them into their demise. Therefore Elijah took everything he said with a grain of salt.

“What exactly are they protecting so fiercely?” Elijah questioned. If Hoffman wasn’t there, then what was the point? No, it had to be bigger than Hoffman. Whatever rested inside, obviously was meant to be hidden from civilization.

“No one really knows,” Jennings responded with a shrug. Once you get inside, there’s another chamber that only Hoffman, the vice president, and one or two other people ever enter into. Guards circle each other around the special room with their guns cocked, in case one of them loses their better judgment and tries to break into the room.
“So they’re trained to kill each other?”
“It it comes down to it, yes.”

Elijah was silent for several seconds before diverting his gaze to Jennings once more. “I have one final question.”
“Proceed,” Jennings replied.
“Where’s the president?”
However, before the weasley man could respond, blood splattered from his forehead, body crumpling towards the ground. Elijah’s body instantly chilled to the core, eyes wildly surveying the club as he jumped up from his chair.

In the corner, Elijah was met with the barrel of a gun, turned right on him.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma climbed off the bed, the lanyard swaying at her side as she congratulated herself on a job well done.

It had all happened quickly. One moment, Van had been crawling onto the bed, lust and determination clouding his features, then he’d grabbed her hips to part them and BAM, Emma had reached up, running her fingers through his balding hair, and snapped the bastards neck like a tooth pick.
Now he laid face down onto the silk mattress, naked and very much dead. It was nothing less than the pervert deserved; if anything, she’d made it too easy for him. There had been no pain, just a swift, brief ending.

Emma grunted to herself and bent down to inspect his clothes. Inside the breast pocket of his leather jacket, Emma found an identity card, holding the same Triad symbol that marked his key-card. What was it about these guys and that damn thing? Yes, it symbolised who they were and apparently, what they stood for, but Jesus, wasn’t the tattoos enough?

Van Meyers, forty-three years old and a level four associate.

“Level four, eh?” She asked the lifeless body with disinterest. “Wonder what that means. Good or bad? High or low on the chain?”
The only reply she got was the groans from next door, the headboard banging at the wall continuously.
A grimace marred her brows; if that woman had company like the one she’d had minutes ago, Emma pitied her profusely. With a shake of her head, she drew the leather over her, covering her bare arms and most of her cleavage and strolled from the room, making sure to take the time to close the door behind her.

Emma twirled the card-key around her finger, only tucking it away and out of sight when she stepped out of the corridor. Only then did she realise the music was no longer playing, the chatter of voices and laughter no longer sounded in a buzz of noise and the club didn’t hold the cluster folds of people it did when she’d last been there.

There was no one but a dozen men, their guns and eyes locked onto… Elijah!?
She started forward, coming short when she noticed that Elijah wasn’t the only one locked on to their sights. Beth was held by a tattoo clad man, his muscled arms locked around her stomach and neck; for the first time since they’d met, the woman looked scared.

“Where’s the other one?!” One of the men asked Elijah, the barrel of his gun close to his head. “There were two women – you got a little visit from her. The little blonde number?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sudden case of memory loss? Shame.” At the last word, he slammed the butt of his gun across Elijah’s temple, sending him staggering to the side. Beth let out a whimper.

Emma’s legs moved of their own accord; she slipped from the door like a shadow and moved up behind the closest man to her, tapping at his shoulder.
He turned around slowly, his brows raised. “Huh?”
“Hello,” A smile curled at her lips. It was the last sight he saw before her fist was slamming into his face, sending him to the floor like a sack of rocks.

“You’re looking for me?” She asked, looking to the man that struck out at Elijah, her stare deathly. “Consider me found.”

“What are you doing?!” Beth breathed at her, struggling against her captor.
The tall, lanky leader of the gang – or that’s what Emma thought he was, he oozed a confidence and authority that the others around them didn’t – crooked a finger at her, urging her to him. “Why don’t you come up front, darling? Come join your friends.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Everything had happened ridiculously fast. From Jennings McAvoy crumpling to the ground to the entire club being shaken into a state of horror. Strippers and patrons darted towards the slender doors in a vicious stampede, trampling others in the process. Elijah stayed put, quickly removing the handgun tucked into the breast pocket of his suit and raising it. The smoke machine had been turned off, the room materializing in stark clarity. Suddenly, a dozen men circled Beth and Elijah with their heavy machine guns directed on them, forming a near perfect circle surrounding the pair.

Elijah and Beth kept their backs pressed together, stubbornly reflecting any question that was thrown their way. If Emma still had a chance to escape, she would be able to.

“Drop your guns,” the head Triad member demanded, his hair completely shaven away and a large, familiar tattoo broke the skin of his scalp. “Or we fire.” They craned their necks to give each other a ‘look’, before they were letting out breaths of disapproval and allowing their weapons to fall to the floor. A member quickly rushed over to grab the artillery before returning to the tight formation.

A female voice other than Beth’s suddenly struck through the air though, causing Elijah’s eyes to connect with his blonde-haired girlfriend pushing through the crowd. “Emma, fuck, no!” At the same time, a man grabbed him, pressing a gun to his temple. He scowled in response. She could have left, but she stayed? Put her life in danger? Elijah wasn’t sure whether to be furiously angry or relieved or ridiculously turned on that she had broken the nose of a burly Triad member boldly in front of the group. He decided he felt all three.

A man suddenly grabbed her though, forcing them next to Beth and Elijah.

“It’s a shame how you all keep tampering in affairs that don’t concern you,” the head man mused, crossing his arms behind his back. “When will you learn not to meddle? To just let things be?”

“To allow the world fall to its demise?” Elijah scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“Some things our out of your control,” he snarled, jet black orbs meeting with his.
“Nothing’s ever out of your control, unless you let it be,” Elijah quipped back.
The man seemed to truly chuckle before turning towards his men. “I’ve had enough of this.” He snapped his fingers and they were all forced to their knees. “Fortunately for you, I’ll spare you with the serenity of a quick death. Only because I commend your outrageous perseverance to a cause that is nearly impossible to override.”
“The fuck we aren’t!” Emma exclaimed, writhing against the tight hold of her captor, Beth soon following suit.

A shower of bangs suddenly flooded the club though, screams and hollers bursting through the air. One by one, their captors fell to the floor, releasing the trio of their iron grasps.

“Fuck!” The head member shouted. “Gun them down! Gun them down!”

Elijah, Beth, and Emma, all flew towards a large table before taking cover behind the chairs. His eyes slightly widened at the sight of not only their group, but another set of people, all wielding large weapons as they fired at the circle of members. A large, dark-skinned man with a bullet proof vest and dual pistols, shot skillfully at the fleeting men, ducking at any bullets that careened towards him.

Another woman, with short, black hair in a pixie cut, tossed three guns in their direction, Elijah capturing the handgun swiftly.

“Fire!” The head Triad member screamed again, only to be silenced by the bullet from Elijah’s gun, catching him right in the throat. He fell over a table, knocking the wood down with him. Elijah let out a tiny chuckle of triumph before surveying the room once more.

It was completely void of any of the tattooed members, only leaving about more than a dozen people, all sweating with victory. The dark-skinned man was the first to speak, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his face. “Are y’all alright?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Elijah replied, stepping to the center of the room so they were face-to-face. “Thank you, for that.”
“Isn’t a problem,” he replied, “there’s only a few of us sane-minded people in this fucked up nation nowadays. We’re always willing to help another group out.”

“How’d you know we were a group?” Emma inquired, stepping beside Eliah.
“We sort of figured it out with that fancy technology you have out there. We never got the opportunity to stock up on that stuff.”
“I could duplicate it for you,” Logan responded, albeit very quietly. He was holding a gun nearly bigger than his body.
The man turned around to face him, before offering a genuine smile. “That would be fantastic. Thank you. We appreciate it.”

Behind him, stood two other woman and three males Elijah didn’t recognize. “No problem, man. I’m Elijah, and this is Emma, Ethan, Beth, Rylee, Lucas, and Logan.” He pointed to each person accordingly, before the other man was following suit. His name was Darrius, and he introduced the rest.

“Now, are we breakin’ into that base tonight or did y’all want a breather? We’re takin’ camp in a small hotel a few blocks away.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Take a breather? After the shit she'd been through all night? Doubtful. Highly doubtful.
“We don't do breaks,” Emma pointed out, dusting off the dirt from her jacket. “And what do you mean by ’we’?”
The man known as Darrius regarded her with curiosity. “We’re workin’ at the same goals here, right?”
“I don't know. Are we?”

The woman with short, black spiky hair, pushed past him. “Excuse me, but we just saved your asses! If it hadn't been for us you’d have a pretty little bullet in your head by now.”
“And I think we already thanked you for that, or would you prefer a banner with balloons?”

The woman inhaled, her flat chest heaving out-wards as she tried to control the temper Emma could see rising to the surface, a hint of red tinging her pale cheeks. “Let me tell you something, blondie,” One red-painted fingernail was aimed at her. “You're playin’ with the grown-ups in this game. We do things properly, not pout and flash our goods at the enemy!”
Darrius placed a hand onto her shoulder, easing her back. “Easy, Zia...”

Emma blew out a genuine laugh. “I think you're confused.”
“Confused!?” She fumed, her cheeks growing ever redder. “People like you give the rebellion a bad, cheap name! You bring shame on the Originals of D-79!”

The group visibly straightened, sparing uncertain glances at one another as Emma asked. “Originals?”

Darrius frowned, dropping his hands from Zia’s shoulders. “You don't know who the Originals are?” He asked in disbelief, shaking his head. “I don't believe it.”
Zia expanded her arms out widely. “They started all this nearly four months ago; they sparked the flames of the rebellion against Hoffman and the Triad. Haven't you heard of their work?”
“They broke into Hoffman's main buildin’ in the city!” One of the others announced, his name eluding her.
“Stopped a runaway train filled with kids!” Another chimed in.
“That was going to blow up an entire town.” Zia finished, folding her arms across her chest, a proud smile capturing her lips. “Now tell me you haven't heard of them.”

Elijah and Emma exchanged a surprised look, a second before Logan burst out into fits of laughter, his brother stood grinning at his side.
“We may have heard of them.” Lucas offered, sliding his glasses from his nose to clean them with the tail of his shirt. “Was there any mention of gloriously handsome twins?”

The smile slid of Zia’s face. “No...”

The Originals, hey? Emma shook her head, finding herself all too happy with that label. Since D-79 had been the starting place of Hoffman's dictatorial rule, it hadn't occurred to her that there was the possibility that they were the first to rise up against him. She felt pride swelling inside her chest; to think that there were like-minded people out there, rising up in the shadow of what they'd started. It gave her hope for humanity.

“Can we finish this later?” Beth asked impatiently, already heading toward the black, iron door in the at corner of the room. “I hope you managed to get a key, Emma.”
She pulled the lanyard free from her pocket, letting it dangle from her finger tip, the card swaying gently from one side to another. “Of course I did.”
Ethan slipped past her, snatching the card from her grasp with one hand as the other tapped encouragingly at her rear. “That's my girl.”

Elijah darted out, his fingers locking around Ethan’s wrist tightly. “Don’t do that.”
“Ow, Elijah! Jesus Christ, you're going to break my wrist!”

Emma rolled her eyes, her eyes catching sight of a quiet Rylee, who was closely inspecting one of the men, a menacing glare aimed directly at him. The man in question was happily watching Beth walk away.
Well, wasn't that cute? Either he was being the overprotective brother figure, or he was a man with a hopeless crush. She'd put bets on the later.

As they started behind Beth, Ethan now rubbing at his sore wrist, Emma reached up to gently touch at Elijah’s temple. “Are you alright? He hit you hard.”
The bastard.
She made a mental note to kick his corpse on the way out.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

The Originals, eh? Elijah liked the ring of it. He had no idea they had already become famous for being the first group to rebel against the government, but in hindsight, was it really such a scandalous thing to do? People were being mistreated and as agents that were a part of a government that generally had the best interests of the population in mind, it had was nearly instinctive for them to shift to the side of justice. Elijah had been skeptical at first, but once he realized they were truly supporting a good cause, he had gone with it 100%.

As for the other group, they seemed like they had similar goals in mind, so Elijah was far from threatened by them. After all, they saved their asses, and he could pay respect where respect was due. At the end of the day, they needed to work together. Else, the next time they were surrounded at gunpoint, they wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Nothing but a headache now,” Elijah murmured, meeting Emma’s softened stare with a reassuring smile before following the group to a glossy back door that read ‘Staff Only’. Darrius, with his gun pointed at the metal entranceway, pulled it open slowly.

“Clear,” he murmured before signaling for the rest of the group to join him. Fourteen people were better than seven, and for the first in awhile, Elijah felt like they had the true upper hand.

The hallway beyond the door was narrow and dank, lights barely illuminating the path below. It resembled a tunnel almost, with steps that were narrow and slender enough to easily send someone careening down its path of they weren’t careful enough. Elijah had removed his coat at the top of the stairway, sweat breaking out against his skin as he followed the leading man.

In several moments they had all approached the bottom, another door, wide and thick greeted them, a key pad encoded into the brick next to it. Darrius looked back at Ethan, who was holding the lanyard around his fingers. “Is everyone equipped?” he questioned, his finger resting on the trigger.

Elijah checked his cartridge before whirling around at the group and nodding in response. “Ready to go.”

Darrius soon slid the identification card over the pad as it beeped in approval, the metal slabs gradually separating. It was only when they completely parted did the group simultaneously drop their jaws.

Beyond the doors was a large, Olympic-sized pool, with multiple tiers of guard rails surrounding it. Besides the few boxes that were stacked on top of each other and lined across the walls, there was virtually nothing of true significance. Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“So this is the big, bad, base, huh?” Sol inquired from next to Ryan, her gun slowly falling to her side.

Elijah kept moving forward though, until his toes were against the edge of the pool. This couldn’t be it. Security couldn’t be that meticulous to only guard off a fucking pool. There was more. There had to be more.

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice called out from behind him, but he wasn’t sure who it came from. Elijah ignored it though, stooping in spite of the protest from his ribcage before peering in. His lips fell apart slowly once he took in the grand sight, gun clattering against the cement next to him. A dome, large and glorious, resided at the very bottom of the pool.

“Check this out,” he murmured, and Darrius was the first to step forward, his body close behind him.

“Holy fuck! Will you look at that?” Several seconds transpired before he added, “But how the hell are we gonna get to it? It must be at least be a thousand or more yards away! Unless we’ve got some professional deep sea divers up in here, it’s a suicide mission.”

“Not quite,” Lucas interjected. “If there’s a way up, there must be a way down, right? We just have to find it.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma watched with disinterest as Sol took out the one and only guard to disturb them, with moves so slick and graceful a blink would have missed it. When the body dropped to the floor, she moved to the woman’s side, positioning herself in the door way, the stairwell in her sights.
“With the commotion we made upstairs, I doubt he’ll be the only one.”
Sol slapped her hands together. “These fuckers are like cockroaches; you kill one and five more appear in its place. Where the hell are they all coming from?”
“I guess recruiting has gone through the roof recently, with chips and all that.”

Elijah and Darrius were closely inspecting the outer rim of the pool, slowly strolling around one side as Zia and Beth did the same on the other side, and by the looks on their faces, they weren’t finding much.

Sol nodded at the small, pixie-like woman. “What’s her deal? She doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
“You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit.”
“She didn’t seem to approve of your tactic.”
Emma grimaced. “Oh, this?” She waved an arm down her outfit. “Yes, as you know I wear this all the time. It’s so my thing.”
“Hey,” Sol raised her hands up in defence. “I love the look. I think it’s hot as hell – and it got the job done, didn’t it? That’s what we wanted.”

She sighed and lifted a lock of blonde hair to her face, inspecting the golden strands with a mix of intrigue and contempt. Her mother had been a blonde, her tresses so long and luscious, Emma had often found herself gazing at it in envy, thinking ‘why didn’t I get to have hair like that, too?’. Where hers was straight and thin, Jennifer’s had been curly and thick.
How times changed. Now, being blonde felt more like a punishment.

“Did you hear what the guy said – they’re in a hotel. Think they’ll share their dig?”
“Not liking the RV?” Emma asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
“There’s only one bed in that thing and nine bodies. What do you think?”
She shrugged, knowing well enough who would be the two to sleep in said bed. “It’s a nice RV.”
“Mhmm.” Sol’s glare told her she knew who’d be in the bed too.

“This is bullshit!” At Zia’s call, every looked across swimming pool to where the four had met. “There’s nothing here. No buttons, no levers, nothing!”
“Maybe you should shout a little louder, sweetheart!” Sol answered. “Just in case they didn’t hear us already.”
“There’s no-one here!” She groaned in exasperation, looking about the wide room. “Unless you count the – What the hell is that noise?”

It started off as a distant bubbling noise, gradually growing louder with each passing second. The water churned in various spots, spitting viciously into the air as it parted, a large, tall pod rising up from beneath the surface.
Emma quickly skirted to the pool edge, her arms waving into the air. “Elijah!”

Another pod rose near her, and again to her left and right – they were popping up everywhere!

“Something tells me this is the backup we were waiting on,” Sol said, just in time for Elijah and Beth to rejoin them. “Plus side is, at least we know how to get down there now.”
A blooming sense of dread began inside her stomach when the pod doors gradually began to slide apart, revealing the darkened faces of more Triad members,; each one looked more ominous than the last, their eyes gleaming through the darkness of each individual pod.

“Question is,” Ethan murmured. “Fight or flight?”
“Depends,” Darrius answered. “Do we want to live or die?”
“I’m voting ‘live’,” Rylee coughed, edging toward the doorway, his hand locked onto Beth’s wrist, dragging her with him. “Aka, flight.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

As dozens of guards shot up from the ground, wielding the familiarly large weapons, it had come to the automatic group consensus that they needed to get the hell out of there if they intended on keeping their lives. So, in five seconds no less, they were dashing for dear life towards the door that seemed to be growing smaller and smaller, fervently praying that no one would get shot.

“Get in!” Darrius screamed, Elijah last in line as he remained on the rebel’s heel. Emma had been leading the line upstairs, her shouts easily heard from the top floor. He felt the thunderous boom of footsteps behind him, a shower of bullets pelting at him as he attempted to maneuver around them. It was only when they were slamming the metal slab behind them did a loud curse flood the narrow space, followed by a string of more profanities.

Elijah used his gun to blow the power box for the door, making it impossible for anyone to enter or exit, just as a storm of guards slammed against the other side, causing the metal to shiver against its hinges. Then, wiping the excessive amounts of sweat from his face, he turned to look at Darrius who was clutching his arm with a tight-lipped wince.

“Darrius!” Zia cried from the top of the staircase, her hair a disheveled mess, shirt ripped at the end. She had begun to make her way towards him before a brunette-haired man was holding her back.
“How bad is it?” Elijah inquired, nearing the man curiously.
Darrius then gradually removed his shaking hand, blood painted across his exposed palm as an obvious bullet wound tore his skin. “J-Just a little skin,” he hissed.
“A little skin?” he replied with a scoff. “The bullet went clean right through your arm. Someone’ll have to remove it or you’ll die from infection first.”

“Infection?” Zia gasped, still in the grips of the brunette beside her.
“I can remove it,” a soft voice announced, which Elijah had quickly realized belonged to Lucas. “I’ll just need some clean towels, scissors, disinfectant and bandages. If there’s anything you can find to close the wound easier, I’d need that as well.”
There was a long pause before Emma piped up. “Well you all said there was a hotel involved, right? They should have all the supplies we need.”

***

Wild Flower Inn was a lot nicer than the name sounded. With two comfortable floors, enough food to last them more than a month, dozens of rooms, and a nice, warm heating system, it made for a perfect temporary camp. Elijah had found out that after the other group had moved into it, they had since then, boarded up all the windows with a resilient material, deadlocked the doors to make for a hell of a struggle to open, and implemented a full night shift so nothing could take them by surprise.

Ryan and Ethan had volunteered to cover the one to three AM shift, Elijah and Emma taking over the three to six. He had hardly gotten a nap in by the time he was practically being dragged down the stairs by the red-head, a groan flitting past his lips.

“I can barely keep my eyes open, how can I handle a gun?”
“Lucky for you, big guy, if we were under attack we’d have more than enough time to prepare with all the locks on this place.”
Elijah rolled his eyes, but shrugged nonetheless. His ribs still hurt, and in spite of the aspirin they were able to trace in one of the rooms, it had only lasted for so long.

“How’d Darrius’ surgery go by the way?” she inquired, although it wasn’t out of genuine concern. Losing a man would be like losing a portion of their advantage. It couldn’t happen.
“Lucas said it went well,” he admitted, just as they entered into the quaint living room. It was comprised of light brown furniture with a medium-sized television in front. Empty mugs of coffee and newspapers were lain askew across the glass, which Elijah automatically assumed were the remains of Ryan and Ethan. “Darrius is knocked out cold from it though. With no anesthetic and someone jabbing a scissor in your arm, it’s enough to get you to faint. But his heart beat is steady.”

Everything about their situation felt surreal. Only a little over a year ago was he living in a comfortable, upscale apartment working for a government agency. His life had been nothing short of relaxed. But now they were rising against a secret organization trying to take over the world and living on whatever food they could scavenge for with camps that changed almost daily? He would have never foreseen things getting this bad in such a short capacity of time. Life just had a funny way of fucking people over.

“You should entertain me,” Elijah murmured once he was sat on the couch, arms propped behind his head. “Otherwise it’s a guarantee I’ll fall asleep.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma rested a hand onto her hip, assessing Elijah through narrowed eyes. “How am I supposed to entertain you?” She asked, sparing a glance down at her clothes. She’d changed out of her stripper gear (thank the lord) and was now in her usual bed attire of navy cotton shorts and white tank; making her feel less like a stranger and more like Emma.

Smirking, she bent over him, her hands resting against the coach on either side of his head. Her thoughts earlier that night had certainly entertained her, so why couldn’t it do the same for him, as well?
“I had tonight all mapped out in my mind,” Emma murmured, the tip of her nose brushing at his. “Especially after our little… meeting in the club.”
Elijah hummed in curiosity, twirling a tendril of her hair around his finger. "Care to share the details?"
“Maybe…” Her head cocked to the right, lips trailing against the seam of his mouth. “But would you rather me tell you or show you?”
"Show. Definitely show."

Was there anything sexier then the way his voice dropped like that? It became deep and smooth, drawing her in like a bee to honey.

A slow smile caught at her lips as she dropped a hand to his chest, her fingers working effortlessly at his shirt buttons, drawing the thin material apart to reveal his toned, perfect chest. Apart from the bandages still wrapped around his tender waist, there wasn’t a single flaw on Elijah’s entire body, no scars of any kind… not like the ones littered across her own skin.

It was tantalising, exciting even, to know that the man in front of her was entirely hers, that she was the reason his voice dropped to another level. The corner of his lips twitched when Emma dropped down on to her knees, positioning herself between his lax thighs, her hands tugging the shirt from his shoulders. Her mouth watered for the taste of him, her tongue eager to feel his warm skin. Emma all but latched onto his neck, her teeth grazing at his flesh as she journeyed down his chest.

Elijah dropped his head back, a low growl echoing up his throat as his fingers slipped through her red locks. “Jesus, Em…”
She paused at the indent of his belly button to peer up at him through her thick lashes. A devilish grin spread out across her face, her fingers curling over the hem of his jeans. “Did you want me to stop?”
For the first time, Elijah looked truly flustered. "N...No."

Emma wanted to laugh, giddy from the excitement of the moment. This was fun, despite the fact she wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing; but by Elijah’s reaction, she had to be doing something right.
She unclipped his belt, pulling it free from his pants and discarding it onto the floor behind her, uncaring of where it landed. “What if someone comes in?” Emma asked abruptly, pausing at his zipper. “We are, after all, in a hotel filled with people…”

They had a three hour shift to complete, with the likelihood of company from one of the twelve other people in the building. Emma didn’t like the thought of being disturbed by anyone, let alone during an intimate moment with Elijah.

"Everyone's asleep," he murmured, although his thoughts still seemed to be in a flurried haze.

Emma glanced toward the closed door, the only noise behind it that of a tranquil silence. This was hardly the most open space they’d been in; only a few days ago Emma had found herself in the most romantic place on earth, that also happened to be in the centre of a woodland. Then there was the shack on the beach… Jesus, in comparison to that, why was she worried?

“Fine,” Emma decided, pressing another kiss to his stomach. “Remind me again – where was I?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah had come to the realization that Emma was much too good at leaving him speechless. Her movements were thorough and tentative, her acute awareness to the places that would deliver the most satisfaction provoking him to wonder if she had ever done something like it before. It had come to a point where he was near gnawing down on his knuckle to prevent from drawing any attention to the living room.

“C-Christ,” he cursed sharply several minutes later before his body was practically melting against the back of the sofa, his mouth agape. “That definitely woke me up.” It was an understatement to the largest extent. Every limb of his body tingled, goose bumps breaking across the surface of his skin. Emma had easily shifted into a sitting position on his lap, arm wrapped around his broad shoulders.

“Entertained yet?” she murmured, finger twirling around his dog tag.
“Oh yeah. But I don’t think I’m an entirely satisfied yet.” He wiggled his brows goofily at her.
“Are you always this needy?”
He scoffed. “Actually, I was going to return the favor.”

Then, in one swift motion, he was swinging a surprised Emma onto her back along the couch before massaging the tender skin on her inner thighs and spreading them apart.

***

“Easy,” Darrius hissed from afar as Zia helped him down the stairs. They were all gathered back in the living room at noon the next day to discuss the next steps. Elijah was wedged in between Emma and a jet black, curly-haired man with a scruffy beard and crossbow attached to his back while Rylee stood in the center with a hologram levitating in the air.

“I suppose we should start with discussing this as adults who are all aspiring towards the same goal,” Elijah started, his voice calm and even. “And that is to stop Hoffman from dominating America completely.”
“And the whole world,” Beth pointed out, next to Sol.
“Are we goin’ back to the prison?” The man with the crossbow questioned, his voice deep and Southern, “because that’d be a suicide mission. There gotta be another way to get some information.”
“Perhaps it would be smart if we all stayed together for a few more days to figure that out. With more brain power, we’ll clearly have an advantage.”

Elijah nodded. “That’d be—“
A woman with hair clipped back in a bun and hard, bright green eyes interjected, “What? We don’t even know these people! That’s only more food to hunt, more lives to watch, and less space to live!”
“Jenna!” Darrius exclaimed, his voice thundering and powerful. He had joined the group, a makeshift sling around his arm. “Clearly these people do us no harm. Matter of fact, their kind doctor saved me from an injury that could have been more serious, so respect is necessary. We all want the same thing, and if we drift apart, it may be harder to achieve what we want. They’re good people.”

Sol rolled her eyes. “The majority of us worked for the FBI anyways. It’s not exactly like our morals are nonexistent.”
The crossbow guy furrowed his eyebrows. “We ain’t want no trouble with the government, now. How do we know y’all ain’t spies?”
“Because we were in that club last night, trying to find a way to throw a wrench into Hoffman’s plans. We were also the same people that stopped him from blowing up a town and killing orphans.”
“And we snuck into a high security building and made it out alive,” Beth added.

Zia’s eyes widened. “Y-You’re the Originals?”
“We thought you would’ve caught on,” Emma responded with a shrug, “but if that’s what you’ve decided to label us, then we are.”

Darrius’ expression manifested into one of pure and utter respect. “We can really help each other, as long as we t’ get along first. Do I have to set a timer and send everyone around the room to introduce himself?” An air of playfulness hung on his tone, although it didn’t seem like a particularly bad idea.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma couldn't say she was thoroughly interested in knowing, but she listened nonetheless as Darrius filled them in on the ins and outs of their group.

There were six of them in total, eight a month back, before a messy shoot out had decreased their numbers. There was Jenna, the bun-girl that had spoken out before, Dominic, the guy with possession of a very pointy looking crossbow, and Oscar and Ralph.
Darrius was their unintentional leader, in charge only because his outgoing personality had put him there. What shocked Emma, however, was the news that he was involved with Zia, but not just that, they were married. Newlyweds, in fact, the knot only tied five months back. Emma and Elijah exchanged a fleeting stare at one another when Darrius proudly wrapped an arm around Zia's waist, announcing to their guests that she was his wife.

“That was just when all this shit was starting up,” Emma realised aloud. “Yet you somehow found the time to get married...?”
Darrius shrugged his broad shoulders. “I love her, I wanted to marry her, so I did. Why would I let anything stop me from doing that?”
Beth sighed dreamily. “That's so romantic.”
Rylee openly grimaced at her.

Elijah tucked his hands into his pants pockets. “That's tough, but commendable. The best of luck to the two of you, man.”
Emma tried to keep her expression as steady as possible, while subtly tucking her hands behind her back. The ring on her finger suddenly felt as though it were a flashing light, and since Elijah had insisted on not telling anyone...
She slipped it off, storing it away into the secure pocket of her jeans.

As Zia and Darrius went into detail of how and where they joined in matrimony, Emma thought back to her birthday evening and the words Elijah had used as he'd slipped the ring onto her finger. No-where, not once, had he used the word (or any word closely resembling it) marriage, only that of a promise was spoken, and they hadn't so much as mentioned it since. Maybe Emma was reading too much into it, had taken its meaning as something deeper than what it actually was.

Sol's whistle drew her attention back to the moment. “Check out that beauty.”
Beth made a squealing sound as she bounced to where Zia was stood, the woman's hand out flat in front of her. A glimmer of a small diamond caught the light as she finished removing her leather glove, showing the group the engagement ring that perfectly circled her finger, snuggled between her knuckle and the thicker band of her wedding ring.
“That's gorgeous, Zia!” Beth gushed.

Emma unexpectedly found herself leaning forward for a closer look - only to catch herself and draw back, looking instead to the discoloured carpet beneath her boots.

Who would want a flashy ring like that, anyway? Not her, that's for sure. Not that she'd want an engagement ring at all... It wasn't like she'd suddenly wanted everything she'd always despised.

Emma couldn't even convince herself that any of that was true.

Smiling at his wife, Darrius nodded at them. “Your turn. Who's who?”
The group each waved, announcing themselves one by one. Beth, quickly followed by Rylee as he moved in close to her side, Sol and Ethan introduced themselves smoothly, followed by Ryan with a rough grunt, the twins spoke in unison, their names the only words that didn't match up.

When it got to the two of them, Emma crossed her arms tightly across her chest and muttered her name. Elijah did the same, only with a handshake and a smile.
Zia took his hand warmly, shooting Darrius a mischievous glance over her shoulder. “Sure you'll be able to handle all these single men under one roof? I know how jealous you get.”
Emma's jaw tightened, her fingers curling around her bare arms as she fought the urge off to snap the little bitches neck.

“I'm not single and definitely not jealous,” Elijah pointed out with a slight smile.
“See!” Darrius laughed, only to trail off when Elijah's words sunk in.
“You're not?” Zia asked, cocking a brow.
“Nope.”
She looked about the group, pausing on Sol who quickly shook her head, a ’hell, no’ murmuring from between her grinning lips. Her traveling grey gaze past Emma completely to get to Beth.
“No!” Rylee announced, a little too loudly, an awkward laugh swiftly following.

“Then who?” Zia asked, unfazed by the fact she'd missed one out. Apparently the last one wasn't even an option.

Emma and Elijah spoke at the same time, answering the woman's insulting question with a straight forward answer.
Just as Emma snapped out a resounding, “Me,” Elijah brushed her hair from her shoulder, his fingers purposely brushing along her cheek attentively. “Emma's my girl, who else?”

Zia was the only one that didn't seem to understand that concept. “Really?”
“I know you wouldn't think so when they're in 'rebel mode',” Beth offered, “And they don't show it in front of strangers - “
“- but goddamn, they don't keep their hands off each other the rest of the time!” Sol groaned. “Now, are we done with this? I'm bored.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah hadn’t found it incredibly surprising that Darrius and Zia were a thing since there gestures had often exceeded that of casual companionship, but the fact that they were married was an entirely different story. The notion of having time for a ceremony in the wake of a world crisis seemed bizarre to him, but that was probably because the entire notion of weddings to him in the first place seemed like a waste of time. His parents had been a living, breathing example of a marriage gone wrong. He didn’t exactly grasp why people figured signing a few pieces of paper would ferment their love; if anything, he’d do it for the benefits.

But after falling for Emma in a way he had never thought he’d fall for anyone, a tiny sliver of hope burned inside of him, silently convincing him that it would be different. That they wouldn’t have problems that ever got worse than a brief scuffle. That he could trust her in every facet of their relationship, as she had relentlessly with him. And he did, wholeheartedly. Elijah just figured they’d take things slow for now; after all, they had only been officially dating about six months, going on seven. He wanted things between them to be right, and getting married in the middle of horror and destruction wasn’t exactly what he wanted to offer her. The ring was a promise for the future, that someday they’d have their own ridiculously cliché white-picket fence house. Hell, add in a dog. But that day wasn’t now.

However, Elijah soon pushed every thought on marriage and the like away from his brain, more focused on finally cornering Sol by the nook that once hosted a big, bright window before it was boarded down in thick, metal planks. “Shit, I knew you’d find me eventually,” she sighed before plopping down on the dark cyan cushions. “This is about the photograph, isn’t it?”

“Why else?” Elijah questioned, his dry sense of humor hidden behind a deadpan expression.
“I’m hurt. I thought we were friends.” She pouted momentarily before pressing her back against the metal and heaving a large sigh. “I wish I could give you some revealing answer that would explain why I found a picture of you and your dead best friend on the sidewalk in the midst of a city falling apart. But I don’t. All I know is that I saw your face on some worn piece of paper that looked like it was fresh from the 1900s, and grabbed it. I figured you’d want or something.”

Elijah had kept it in his back pocket since the day he received it, the flimsy thing coming off as heavier than it actually was. To be disappointed with her answer was a severe understatement, but he doubted Sol would ever lie to him. There was no reason to. “Thanks.”

Several more seconds of heavy silence passed before Sol’s light brown orbs were connecting to his in a way that was considerably more serious. “Did you…see him die?” she questioned, nothing accusatory or judgmental about her tone…just sheer curiosity.

Somehow, Elijah found himself responding honestly. “I saw everything. The truck exploding, bits of fire and glass spilling across the sky, the screams of the soldiers and the destruction of the village. Yeah, I haven’t forgotten it. Not ever.” His nightmares had never allowed him to, even though they were few and far in between now. He had more vital things to worry about than the untimely and tragic death of his best friend. Shit happened. You moved on.

Or at least he had liked to convince himself that.

“We’re just pawns in this fucked up world, Walker. We may not like where the chips happen to fall, but that isn’t to say we can never pick them up and try again.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma looked on curiously as Elijah and Sol whispered amongst themselves, away from any praying ears. Odd. Since when did Elijah have secrets, especially with Sol of all people? She made a mental note to pull him up on it later.

Before their private meeting was over, however, she noticed Lucas and Ethan moving swiftly from the room, the groups last cell phone the subject of their attention. Emma followed, watching as Ethan snatched the phone from Lucas' grasp once they were out of sight of the others.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner!?” The red head fumed. “Jesus Christ, Luc! It could be important!”
Lucas fumbled with his glasses. “I'm sorry, okay? The calls started late last night and I didn't want to wake you. We all needed the rest, Ethan.”
“Tell me, what do you think is more important to me - sleep or my father?”
“I...well...I just thought...”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan blew out a long, frustrated breath. “How long ago was the last call?”
“About an hour ago.”

Ethan raised the phone up, screen side aimed into Lucas' paling face. “You'd best hope he calls again, you little worm.”

Taking that as her cue, Emma rounded the corner, arms folded across her chest, her face stone cold. “Hope who calls again?”

The men visibly jumped at the sound of her voice, their heads snapping toward her. Lucas swallowed and proceeded to clean his glasses with the tail of his shirt. Ethan looked positively infuriated with her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Eavesdropping, are we, Emma?”
“No,” She answered simply. “Got something to hide?”
“No,” Lucas got in, a new sense of confidence now that Emma was close by. “Ethan's just angry at me because I didn't tell him that his father had been trying to contact us through our secure line.”

Her brows rose up in interest. Ethan's father was the mayors aid, his trusted advisor, yet he was also helping them in the endeavour to take him down, supplying his son with all the funding they needed. Emma had only seen him once from across the hall during the mayors ball months back, and even then she'd only seen the back of his head; hell, she didn't even know his name.
As far as she was aware, this was the first time he'd contacted them directly.

“And he has the number, how exactly...?”
“Because I gave it to him,” Ethan snapped, waving the phone in her face this time. “He only calls when it's important - he could be telling us where Hoffman is now!”
Emma watched the slim black device sway from one side of her face to the other, debating whether or not to snatch the thing out out of his hands and beat him with it.

Her fingers flinched, itching to make the move, when suddenly the screen lit up, an unknown number flashing across it.
“I think Daddy is calling again.” She grounded out

He pulled the phone back quicker than he'd first put it there, accepting the call with a flick of his wrist and holding it to his ear. “The red robyn flies again.”

Emma and Lucas exchanged questioning stares throughout the brief conversation. Ethan nodded and agreed, smiled in what she believed to be relief, agreed again, and hung up.

“Red Robyn...?” Lucas asked, a half grin playing at his lips.

Ethan ignored him, instead looking up into Emma's expectant face. “He wants me to meet him tonight, on the outskirts of D-27.”
“That's two districts away,” Emma frowned. “It'll take at least four/five hours to get there. I'm not about to make everyone get up and leave this place because Daddy wants to see you, Ethan.”
He shook his head. “I don't need everyone with me, just a few, for backup purposes, should I need it. He has something to tell me and he doesn't trust the lines, no matter how secure they are.”

Emma sighed and asked, “Concerning Hoffman?”
“Him or the Triad, either is useful information.”
She couldn't disagree with that, no matter what she thought of Ethan and his shady Daddykins. The man needed to be closely watched, if Ethan told him too much it could do more harm than good. Which meant there was only one thing to do...

Emma glanced back toward the door, where Elijah and the rest of the group were; whatever was going on with Elijah would have to wait until this was over, at least then she could focus more on him had less on Ethan's family reunion.

“Beth and I will go with you,” Her tone left no room for arguing. “And we're leaving now. This better not be for nothing, Ethan, or I'll make that phone a permanent part of your body.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

After meeting with Sol, Elijah decided to push all thoughts on Remiah away from his mind. He wasn’t relevant right now; not when the world was falling apart slowly. Instead, he had settled on going scavenging with Darrius, even though the man still toted a sling with a small handgun in his free palm. He had also reminded him that converted humans were as much a threat to them as guards were. Their eyes acted as miniature cameras and would alert the authorities immediately if they found any individuals that still possessed their free will. Zia had argued until the end of time about Darrius not being ‘fit’ enough to go out on a run, but he had only shrugged her off, choosing Elijah to accompany him.

“I used t’ hear about you in the papers,” he mused, blinking up at the bright, Southern sky as they kept their bodies close to the shadows that littered the destroyed sidewalks. Posters of Hoffman were taped everywhere as glass and chrome remained shattered against the sidewalks, a dead body or two lying on the road. Their camp was in a ‘safe zone’, meaning that law enforcement had found no use in the small, country-like area, leaving it to match a fate similar to that of Venus Hill. Still, they were much too close to the headquarters for any sort of comfort, and Elijah doubted they’d be staying long. “You were some famous FBI agent, weren’t you? The man who figured out about that Blacklight killer.”

Elijah felt himself smirk slightly. Months ago he would have relished in the compliment, but now it didn’t mean as much to him as it should have. “Suppose you could say that.” It seemed so long ago; fighting for life in a dark, intensified tousle with the Ex Head of Department. “Where were you before all this shit started?” He asked all of a sudden, out of pure curiosity. Most of their group had comprised of people that worked closely with Law Enforcement, but the case was obviously not the same for others.

“In a high-security cell, doin’ twenty to life,” Darrius answered casually, before catching Elijah’s semi-stunned expression with a snicker. “Before you go tellin’ the others I’m some psychopathic killer, I couldn’t be farther from it. I was accused.”
Elijah could safely say he had been taken off guard. Holy hell, so he was an ex-con? “How’d you get accused, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Wrong time, wrong place situation.”

Darrius looked like he was about to further elaborate before his breath was suddenly sucked into his throat and he was roughly tugging Elijah into a dark alley way, his feet nearly stumbling over a broken pipe. “Do not move,” he advised lowly into his ear. It took him a moment to realize the abrupt moment of heightened panic, but he soon zoned in on the formation of men and women profiling through the streets with an utter deadness in their eyes. Their movements were neat and coordinated, arms tucked closely to their sides.

“It’s one of Hoffman’s armies,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. “They raid cities and seek out the non-converted. We had a run-in with one of them in the next state over and nearly got captured.”
“Shouldn’t we warn the others?” Elijah hurriedly replied, his thoughts floating back to Emma. She had left last night with Ethan and Beth on a mission he had no details on. Naturally, he had worried, but then he came to the understanding that it was freaking Emma and she could definitely handle herself.

“They’re safer than us at this point. No way Hoffman’s army could take down the protection we built up. We’re fucked if we don’t get back to that hotel before they sniff us out though, and trust me, they will if we don’t act fast.”
Elijah thumbed the trigger to his gun. “Well, what the hell are we waiting for then?”

[/blockquote][/size]