<strong>Dark Aesir (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=32223.msg1716730#msg1716730)<br/>Morrin Street, Brooklyn<br/>1:40 AM</strong><br/><br/><br/>Jonah Staggered away from the broken car, the Detroit steel and glass coffin for one of Valentine's tough boys. He could not longer hear the man gasping through the frothy mix of his own lungs, a dry fish in a three piece. He could barely stand though, barely walk. His wobbling gait was the chemical price of Olympic prowess on a cheeseburger diet, and he had skipped more than a few cheeseburgers lately.<br/><br/>As he stepped carefully over the grainy cracked bump of the sidewalk his hand missed the fluted metal streetlight, waved in mid air comically ...<br/><br/>...and a rough grasp snatches him from mid tumble, snatches him up and spins him like a toy to press his back against the brick wall. He thumps into the uneven masonry with a grunt and the solitary sound of debris bouncing on the concrete at his feet. The opening of the alley looms like a sudden maw to his right and it moans to have him so near, a sound like vertigo and hunger. Jonah's is dazzled by a bright golden glow. It shines in his eyes like the sun come to call.<br/><br/>He tries to speak and something raps across his sooty face with the power of a major leaguer, an infield double's worth of stars slide away from his vision to reveal a figure in the floodlight glare. There is a form there, a shape like a female, big hair like a TV star, that chick from Knight Rider, whats-her-name.<br/><br/>“Pay attention.” It says in a familiar voice. My god! he knows the voice, he has heard it...where? Downtown or Queens, somewhere he has heard it.<br/><br/>The form is beautiful, it is glowing and on fire with a glory that Jonah can barely take in, barely stand. He slits his eyes to get a look at the face and makes out armor. The woman is armored with ...with another woman behind her looking on. The armor is metal and fur and bolts and straps.<br/><br/>Jonah's blood prickles cold. Valkyries? Choosers of the slain? Was he dead?<br/><br/>“Listen.” the voice says again and the sound shatters into a spasm of butterflies that shower through his system, winged opium slushing into his weak limbs making them light, sweet and light.<br/><br/>“Do what I say.” she hisses in that maddeningly familiar voice bringing her face closer to Jonah's. The light from her 100 watt skin warms him straight down to his thighs, he feels energy flood back into his body, feels his spine shift back into shape. It is like someone pulling the cord that lines him right back up.<br/><br/>Her fingers take his face in their grip like something disgusting that one must touch. The vision of light grabs him like an offensive remark in a tattered hoodie. He can see her teeth gritting as she speaks, grinning like a skull. He can smell her body, sheened with the sweat of running, climbing, her voice is a threat set to poetry, lyrics to a hard city's tune.<br/><br/>“You had better be worth it.” She grinds out as her companion looks over her shoulder interested and delighted.<br/><br/>Then the lights went out. Darkness blasted into sudden technicolor sparks of blindness before his eyes and even though he felt full of energy again, he sank down the rough rounded-brick wall.<br/><br/>It was a moment before he realized that the streetlight had just flickered out. It hummed like a hornet and glared down with a single hot, orange spot burning lightlessly under the ancient, webbed glass. Two more heartbeats passed before Jonah realized he was holding his breath and gasped for a bitter taste of the night, a breath plated with the copper of his own blood.<br/><br/>“Son of a bitch...”he said in a shaky voice while the sirens whined out their cat sex melody and the ghost yellow moon danced through spilled glass.<br/><br/>“Son of a bitch.”<br/><br/>