everyonelives | angry men don't write the rules, and guns don't right the wrongs

Entry tags:

angry men don't write the rules, and guns don't right the wrongs

“This isn’t up for debate, Della.” Patrick Brighton stands tall at the head of the room, staring down the witches with a wave of his hand. His wife, Frida, sits on his right, and his daughter Bridget on his left, and while he respects Della and the work she’s done for the coven over the years, this is a line he doesn’t intend to cross. “We’re not joining Tamara Monroe.”

“Well. Playing favorites again, are we?” Della crosses her arms in front of her chest as she stares up at the stage. “You’ll let Eliza come in here and bring that beast —”

“Name calling is beneath you, Del. But then again, maybe it’s the company you’re keeping.”

“Eliza,” Patrick gives her a look. “Not helping.” Eliza holds up her hands in return. “And I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to give Isaac the opportunity to speak.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re taking the side of monsters.” Della glares at Isaac, and Isaac steps behind Eliza, almost as though she might be able to intercept the glare. He then holds up a hand.

“I’m being called a lot of names and I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“And you shouldn’t be allowed to say anything at all! You’re not one of us!”

“No, but I’m trying to help you.” Isaac’s spine straightens as he takes a step closer. “Those hunters that you want to team up with? They’re not doing it to help you. They’re doing it because you’re powerful and they want to control you.” He holds up his hands again. “Tamara Monroe doesn’t want to ally with you to save you. She’s not looking out for your best interest. She’s just making a note of who to kill last.”

Della looks furious. A gasp of silence rolls through the room, but Isaac isn’t one to sugarcoat things, and beating around the bush hasn’t really caused things to sink in. Before she can try to get the upper hand, Isaac interjects again.

“The hunters are here. They tried to kill me this morning for walking down the street. They will come after your coven and your families, and there is no time to debate this anymore. You need to keep your people safe.”

Patrick looks over at Frida, concern in his features. Della looks like she’s going to argue her case, but before she gets too far, someone stands in the back of the room, and there’s the sound of a gun slide being pulled back. Everyone turns, and a man stands in the middle of the crowd, and he has a gun pointed at Isaac.

“What are you doing?” Patrick demands, stepping forward. “Put that down!”

“I don’t have to listen to you, witch.” The man has a wild look in his eyes. Isaac can see another man looking horrified in a way that’s more personal. The hunter had a partner. “If I had a say in any of this, I’d take every one of you abominations down. But right now, I’m just here for him.”

He turns and fires. The bullet shoots through the air, and Isaac quickly steps in front of Elijah, taking two bullets to the chest. Neither of them were kill shots, but they hurt, and the werewolf stumbles backwards into the witch behind him.

“Oh, I forgot how much that hurts,” Isaac grumbles.

“There’s no wolfsbane in these bullets, but I’m sure a headshot will do the trick.” The hunter prepares to shoot again, but the metal begins to heat in his hand, burning his skin and the hunter hisses before dropping it to the ground.

Patrick is on the stage, hand on the staff that marks him the leader of the coven. “That is enough.”

That should have been the end of things. It wasn’t. Instead, the hunter pulls out another gun, extending his hand and shooting Patrick Brighton at center mass. His body jerks three times as the bullets collide and the room erupts into screams, none more than the women at the front of the room. The witches begin to run, trying to find the nearest door to escape the carnage. Another shot sounds, and Frida Brighton follows her husband, landing on the stage in front of them.

Bridget Brighton doesn’t hesitate, however. There’s a reason she’s been designated her father’s heir, and she acts quickly. She takes the staff, letting it settle into her hand before slamming the end of the staff down into the ground, chanting as she does. A shockwave echoes out through the center of the room, blowing down the walls of the building down and sending people flying.

The other hunter in the room had tried to come to his compatriot’s aid. Instead, he gets sent flying, a jagged piece of wood slicing through his chest from behind. The hunter who shot her father gets knocked to the ground, but he comes to his feet again, staring her down.

“Kill me if you want. But there’s more of us here. We’ll take our pound of flesh either way.”

“So you want to play a game, then?” There’s a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Bridget,” Eliza’s voice is calm, but there’s an undercut of fear to it. Bridget is a good girl, but she’s also a grieving one. “Bridget, we’re better than this.”

“Maybe we are. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to defend ourselves.” The wind picks up around her and she draws her hands out in front of her. She chanted another incantation, before drawing her hands together. The world flickers, and Eliza’s eyes widen.

“What did you do?”

“I trapped them in here with us.”

The hunter’s eyes widen. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, I can do whatever I want. You’re the one who started this.”

“We’ll find a way out. We’ll stop the spell, even if we have to kill you.”

Bridget smirks. “You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, she disappears from sight.

The hunter tries to leave but Isaac is there before he can get far. The werewolf clotheslines him down to the ground, before shoving a hand into his chest, claws first. The man cries out in pain, before looking up at him, eyes still filled with that wild energy.

“You’re one of Scott McCall’s wolves. You won’t kill me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Isaac twists, feeling the blood start to leak through the wounds. “But you forgot two things. One, Scott’s not here right now, and you shot me. Twice.”

The hunter snarls as Eliza comes up over Isaac’s shoulder.

“And what’s the second?”

“It’s not the head of my coven you just killed.”

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He immediately brings his hands up, trying to show that he's not armed (well, he is, but not obviously so. A hunter never isn't armed.)]

Look. This isn't want you think.

["Not what I think?"

The walls start to shake, power rocking through the building and Coop's eyes swing through the space, trying to take note of where the weak points are.

"Your friends killed my parents! We never hurt anyone."]

I know, I know. But if you could just calm down, we can talk about this.

[He's trying to be his most persuasive but that persuasion isn't really working right now. He can tell just by looking at her.]

Isaac.

( Inherently, William steps between Bridget and this guy, arms up in front of him. )

Bridget.

( He doesn't know what to say, to stop a witch, to help. He doesn't want anyone else to die. He turns his head. )

Are you one of them? You should run. Bridget.

[He's about to say something to that affect when the ceiling cracks above them. Wind whips through the room and the overload of magic causes the earpieces to spark, and all William gets is a "William? What's-" before the sound goes dead.

Bridget's red hair flares around her and a Coop can hear the supports cracking. The building is coming down, it's just a matter of time. This guy is right. He should leave.

But as a chunk of the ceiling starts to come down around him, right on the guy in front of him's head, he can't help but react. The werewolf will heal, the witch brought this on herself, but this guy - he can't account for this guy. So on instinct, he leaps forward pulling William to the side and tackling him out of the way.

As he does, the building comes down around them all and for the second time this evening, everything goes dark.]

( William's planted in place, even as energy surges around Bridget and through her hair. He's warned the hunter, focusing now on Bridget and Gloria so close to Bridget. He tries getting Isaac, tries talking Bridget down, but fails at both.

Everything happens in slow motion as Bridget's sheer force of will brings down the building around them.

Not around them.

On him. Almost.

That's the last thing he remembers.

Beside the rubble, William sputters, coughing. He spurs to action - considering his family pedigree and rolls the guy who tackled him, over. Sitting back above him, he checks his pulse, but he seems to be alive and having his own -- reaction. Because he pushed William out of the way. Had he ran, William probably would've been crushed.

But, also. He pushes himself to his feet and calls across the wreck. )

Gloria! Bridget! Isaac? ( He holds a hand to his ear, getting only static. Her magic shorted his earpiece.

He returns to the hunter, lowering himself down. )

Can you move?

Edited 2021-03-04 18:33 (UTC)

What?

[It's taking him a second to come around, and try and get his eyes to focus again. His ears are ringing and he takes a breath, trying to focus on the man in front of him, though he occasionally splits into two people.]

Yeah. I think so.

[Maybe. That's a big ol' maybe that's probably a no.]

Try to - maybe try to sit up.

( He leans over him, lifting a hand and putting it in his other one. Since, he said 'yeah, I think so, anyway,' this seems doable. )

What's your name?

Cooper. Sullivan.

[He does, slowly, try and push himself into a sitting position, but he feels the blood drain away as he does, and he goes lightheaded. He holds up a finger and lowers himself back down to the ground, one hand covering his eyes.]

Yeah, I'm ninety percent sure I have a concussion now.

( William continues to hold onto that hand like Snow White's prince until Cooper lies back down. Finally, he lets go, sitting back. )

I'm ninety-five you do.

( Sure. )

Don't make any sudden movements, then.

( And, neither Gloria, nor Bridget said anything, so he crawls over to his bag and pulls out his phone. )

Her magic must've killed the signal in the building.

( Or, here in the hall.

He sighs. He looks beyond them, but the structural damage is on all sides, probably something to do with waves of magic and the shapes it made, and how the building was built. )

We're trapped.

Sorry.

[He apologizes like it's his fault, which ... it sort of is. But his brain is also hazy and having a hard time connecting thoughts into a solid sentence.]

I didn't mean to.

[He makes a face to try and make the words work.]

I didn't know it was her her. I just thought people might be in trouble.

People were. Witches you were hunting.

( He settles against the wall, bringing his legs up, resting his elbows on his knees. )

But, that back there, that wasn't you. She's grieving. Her parents -- I was watching, I saw it through the network. How it all went wrong.

I didn't sign up for this.

[As though it was a defense for where he's landed. Stuck under a collapsed building with a guy who's working with the people they're hunting. He removes his hand and at least does William the courtesy of looking him in the eye. So he can see that he's telling the truth.]

This isn't ... I don't hunt witches who aren't hurting people.

You're hunting an entire city, so it feels like you're way off there, Cooper.

( Isaac gave him the bare bones. Hunters are recruited. It's militaristic in their movements and their formations.

He probably knows the answer, especially anthropologically, with sprinkles of lies. )

Why did you join?

I'm not hunting anything. I wasn't even supposed to be here.

[Which is not the point. It's so far from the point. But there's nothing he can do about where he is.]

The woman running this, she was running around with the name if a old, trusted hunting family in her mouth. And there were some things about it that were questionable. As much as she was toting having the trust of the Argents, none of the Argents were actually here. But my family trusts the Argents, and we're all for taking care of monsters that are problems, and we've been talking for years about how we could be a lot more effective if we worked together more.

[He makes a face as he leans back against the floor again.]

I didn't sign up for genocide.

( Again he'd say, but you are here. But, he feels something else coming. )

Allison Argent. The Argent matriarch. ( Young, though. Not at all what a matriarch would be like. ) She's not on the side of the hunters. They're invoking her name?

Not Allison. Gerard.

[He shifts a bit, to prop himself up on his elbow.]

See, Allison's too soft. There's some less than polite comments floating around about her penchant for werewolves. Now, I didn't know Gerard, but my old man did, and he said he was the real deal. And this woman, she comes around toting herself as the second coming in some pretty convincing ways.

No one talks against Gerard except for the Winchesters. And ... let's be honest, the Winchesters are a little nuts.

[It's not kind, but it's what it is.]

Edited 2021-03-05 01:54 (UTC)

I don't know the Winchesters, but Gerard's been dead for years. More than ten.

( On record, anyway. )

Explain to me, penchant for werewolves. Are the werewolves Allison has a penchant for, are they hurting people?

Yeah. That's around when she started recruiting.

[But that's not the point.]

Well, Isaac Lahey possibly killed his own father. He got turned by Derek Hale, and Hales have a questionable history to begin with. Peter Hale went on a murder spree before Isaac was turned.

Which speaking of Peter, Scott was turned by him, then possibly killed by him. They claim he's a True Alpha but that could be wishful werewolf thinking. All I know is that Scott walked out of Beacon Hills alive and not much else that went up against him did.

Look, I'm not putting Isaac on blast, because we're not like that. But, he was exonerated from his murder and there was something else killing people at the same time.

( He's running on how many deaths there were in Beacon Hills that year. He knows he doesn't have proof it isn't Isaac, but. )

I don't know about Scott being a True Alpha, but everything that's said about Scott, it's positive. It's deep down, but it's good. He helps homeless werewolves, he doesn't kill everyone who sets foot inside Beacon Hills. But, the world is a dangerous place. Is that all they talk about? Because, it sounds like they're serving your genocide up with a side of indoctrination.

It's Beacon Hills. There was always something else killing people. But sure, it his father, with giant claw marks drawn up his chest, probably wasn't killed by his impulsive, newly turned teenage werewolf son.

[That's just how the dots line up.]

Look. I've been in this game my whole life. Some hunters? Way more into this than others. But up until this point? Everything with Monroe had seemed on the level. At least until recently. Then the cases started getting a little weird, and my suddenly my brother's getting sent on secret missions in a witch town that's never given anyone any trouble.

I didn't think much of it at the time because sometimes Monroe recruits witches, but ... this is a whole different story.

( Okay. He hasn't gotten the story. But, he knows it was more complicated than that. )

Monroe recruits witches?

( What witches? Not Bridget, he'd assume. )

You hunted before Monroe recruited you?

Yeah. My family's been hunting for decades.

[Maybe not with the pedigree of the Winchesters or the Argents, but long enough that they've made a name for themselves.]

And yeah. Witches can give you an edge, sometimes, if you find the right ones to work with. Usually it's a matter of teaming up against a common, more problematic enemy.

And you're hunting witches. Witches, who, for the most part this weekend were planning to celebrate a peaceful holiday.

( Just so he can really get this straight. )

No, I don't.

[And now he's starting to get angry, which is good. Not at William, necessarily, but at the organization he's found himself trapped in. At the way his reputation and his integrity is being called into his question because his father signed on with the wrong person and took the whole family with him.]

I hunt witches that make people's brains leak out their ears for fun or revenge. I hunt witches who convince their entire book club to sell their souls to a demon so they can get a power boost like a friggin' multilevel marketing campaign. A community like this? I would have left alone. But I wasn't the one making the calls.

[But before he can go further on that, something in the rubble shifts above their heads.]

Did you hear that?

It sounds like that what you used to do.

( Because he - does. He does hear that.

"Keep moving the bigger--" Mickey muffles, as larger chunks fall outside of the cave-in. )

Isaac?

[When the building came down, it wasn't clear if there was anyone even there. At least, not until Spike smelled blood and heard voices. He couldn't quite pin down how many - too muffled for that - but voices were enough for Mia to start going to work, pulling away some of the bigger pieces of rubble almost single handedly, not really caring about keeping her Slayer secret for the moment.

Then, one piece of rubble pulls away and she finds herself staring down into the last face she expected to see.

She's been hiding from her family for so long that seeing William's face hits her like a gut punch. He shouldn't be here. What is he doing here? A number of questions spring to her lips, and instead, all she can manage is:]

William?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject