Chapter 2: Runaway Days

--- Aurelio Hermenez, Before The Event ---

He slammed the door to his room shut behind him, no one else able to hear it in his empty house save the various rock posters hanging on his walls or the books he’d been drowning himself in for years to keep from thinking about how loud every sound echoed in (the bastard’s) manor.

Pacing back and forth he ran a hand through his hair, before wincing as his (fractured but not broken) arm panged, reminding him of the day's events. The way half the football team ganged up on him and left him an aching pile of bruises, about how nothing was going to be done about any of them (yet again) because there was a stupid football game right around the corner.

He clenched his fists before throwing his backpack at the wall as hard as he could in frustration. And once more he knew the sound was loud enough to echo. Especially when the impact knocked half a dozen books off of his shelf, sending them all clattering in a cacophony of chaos that would bring any caring parent running in concern or annoyance.

But once more he was surrounded by nothing but the sound of silence and his own panting. And just like every other time before he moved with a desperation to fill the silence with (anything) preferably something loud and brutal.

Pulling out his phone he moved to open a music app before stopping as he saw his background, a woman several years dead but also the one who filled the silence with laughter.

Tears began to form in his eyes as he realized it was her anniversary, and, and…

He swallowed, before wiping away the tears in his eyes.

And once more he was surrounded by silence as he let his phone slip from his fingers

In this silence a revelation hit him as he realized that the one day he shouldn’t be alone, the one day his father should’ve been with him, he wasn’t.

“I need to get out of this house.” He shook his head, feeling the ache over half his body. A feeling exasperated by the phantom ache of how many times he’d felt them over the years. “No, I need to get out of this town.”

With that revelation, something in him steeled and he began moving before he could talk himself out of it.

He took his backpack and dumped its contents on the ground before rushing to his dresser and stuffing as many of his clothes as he could fit inside of it.

Reaching into the back he pulled out the prepaid card he’d gotten for himself to buy the various things he knew his father would never approve of. A card that was still loaded with several hundred dollars that he’d slowly filtered out of the account his father had given him over the years.

He paused as he took the card out. (This… this isn’t going to last me.)

Despite what most of the town thought about him, he wasn’t some sheltered idiot living off of daddy’s money. He knew how the real world worked and even if he could find a job in the next week, he knew the amount on the card would maybe last him a month.

If he wanted to make this work he’d need a bigger safety net just in case, because (I refuse to come crawling back.)

Deciding that if he had no intention of crossing this bridge back that he might as well salt and burn it on his way past, he made his way for his father’s study. Or more specifically his ex-father’s safe within the study.

The fact that the combination to it was his mother’s birthday just added fuel to the flames of his rage.

Stuffing all of the safe’s contents into a duffel bag he was also stealing now, he slammed the safe shut, grabbed his backpack, and left what he refused to call a home after so many years of silence for the last time.

As he moved through the town streets, ignoring every asshole who crossed his path, he began ordering a long distance bus ticket. A ticket that had him running to make it to the bus station before it could leave since he would not spend one more night in this shit hole of a town even if it meant walking to the nearest city.

Once on the bus, his heart began to pound in his chest as he realized (I’m really doing this…)

A manic smile made its way onto his face as the bus began moving, only briefly fading when he passed the town graveyard. “Sorry mom, but… I’ve got to do this. I’ll… I’ll try to visit next year.”

Unlike the bastard he was fully willing to come back -for a little while- to see her.

Just so long as he didn’t have to see anyone else when he did.

His smile came back as he saw the sign marking the town limits, and upon crossing the threshold he couldn’t help but laugh as he felt a weight fall from his shoulders. Even if it did mean some of the bus’s other occupants were looking at him like he was crazy.

(Maybe I am crazy for doing this? But if I am, well… being crazy is kind of fun!)

--- Micki Harrison, Before The Event ---

The school alarm rang, forcing her awake as the doors to the school opened to the public.

After taking a moment to stretch herself out from the various aches one picks up from sleeping on the ground, she began packing up her things now that people were free to wander around the school, even if they wouldn’t visit all of the nooks and crannies she liked to visit.

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But just to be safe, she unplugged her phone, tucked her books in her backpack, and rolled up her sleeping bag before making her way to the locker room and packing her things away so that she could take a shower before anyone really showed up.

(Going to need to do laundry soon…) She frowned, grabbing her clothes for the day before locking the otherwise unused gym locker.

Once clean she made her way to the cafeteria for her last free breakfast of the week. (Need to see if the old man has any shifts down at the diner.)

--- Sarah Sionis, Before The Event ---

She calmly sat in her chair, her hands zip tied together and then cuffed to the table because they apparently weren’t taking any chances with her. (I’m actually flattered.)

The door to the interrogation room opened and a man dressed in white and black body armor walked in. (And that marks mistake number one.)

“Hel-Grk.” She bit down a shout as electricity coursed through her from the collar around her throat.

“You’ll only speak when spoken to.” Her interrogator warned her as he took his seat across from her.

(And now I’m annoyed by how few chances they’re taking.) Though to be honest she wasn’t entirely surprised given how ‘talking their way out’ was her family’s main MO in this kind of situation.

“Just so you know this conversation is purely a formality. After all, we’ve more than enough to lock you away but we are trying to develop a better reputation than our predecessors, who make your body count look trivial.” The man informed her. “Hence this conversation. Proof that we treated you like a human rather than putting you down like a rabid dog.”

“Mm-hmm.” She hummed, more to test if the collar would respond than to do so herself. (And there is weakness number two.)

The man watched her with narrowed eyes, paranoid enough to know she was up to something. When she didn’t immediately start anything, he apparently (and stupidly) decided to continue. “I’m going to be honest, I always thought people like you were a myth.”

She gave him a curious look, her eyes going to the emblem of a sword with angel wings that marked just what organization he worked for.

“Oh, not Deviants.” The man assured her. “Can’t really deny their existence in this line of work. I meant your Deviancy specifically. I mean I’ve met witches, vampires, ghost-zombies, psychics…”

He paused expecting a reaction she had no intention of giving him.

Seeing this the man continued, “Slashers though… I thought those were just a horror movie trope based on serial killers, but here you are. Barely a day and no one could tell we found you bleeding out in that gutter.”

Further testing her boundaries she gave the man a shrug, subtly spreading her influence into the air to see if it would get her shocked. (Opportunity number three…)

“Well, even excluding the fact that you're a superpowered serial killer you’ve got one hell of a reputation given daddy dearest.” The (dead man walking) informed her as she decided in that moment that, (I’m going to have you killed the first chance I get.)

“The eldest of Frank Sionis’s many children, and his top hitman -sorry, woman- by the age of eighteen.” The man nodded, tossing a file on the table featuring a number of kills that she had orchestrated as well as a couple belonging to her brother.

(I’ll have to tell Jake that… If I ever see him again… It’ll… annoy him…)

“Now I’ll admit I am a bit curious about what you’re doing way out this way.” Her interrogator told her, finally getting to the real reason he was talking to her. “I know your old man has rented you out as an assassin more than once, but I also know you haven’t worked for your father in almost a year.”

Part of her felt she should be surprised by that, after all (everyone hates Frank Sionis.) She only put up with him for her siblings sake and even then…

“Which I guess explains why he sent his other hitmen after you.” The pictures the man dropped this time were far more recent, given how the corpses in them had been breathing just the day before. “Though you were his top hitwoman for a reason.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at that, after all her father gathered a specific type of minion. A type of minion she was very good at countering and subverting to her own agenda. (Too bad for them my agenda meant the ones in charge had to die.)

“Don’t suppose you care to share what’s so funny?” The man asked.

She shook her head, weaving just a touch of her influence into the air, knowing that if she wanted this to work she needed to remain subtle and patient even if it took her a few days. (Though ensnaring this one might be a waste given how he won’t be guarding me, but if I’m lucky he’ll still make the wrong choice at the right time.)

“No? Well, personally what I think is funny about the situation is how because of dear old dad, you’re going to jail for the things dear old dad told you to do.” The man smirked at her.

(And he wants me to flip, how boring.) She’d been hoping for something a little more interesting than that.

She let him know her thoughts with an exaggerated yaw- Her jaw snapped shut, her teeth cracking as another burst of electricity tore through her.

“Ah, ah. You know you can’t be trusted to talk.” The man told her.

She glared at him. (And you know I’m going to kill you.)

“Don’t give me that look.” The man scoffed. “With the number of people your family has enslaved you’re lucky we aren’t pushing for a Kill Warrant.”

She rolled her eyes at that, given how it was the only thing she could do without getting zapped apparently.

“Now your options are really quite simple, you’re going to jail. That’s inevitable.” Her interrogator said, no longer playing around.

(Depends on how many people you’re willing to kill.) She wanted to argue.

“What isn’t is the kind of cell you spend the rest of your life in.” The man continued. “If you tell us what we want to know about your father’s operation we’ll make sure you get a comfy white collar cell where you never talk to anyone again. Don’t and we’ll lock you in a small concrete cell where you won’t be able to stand up without crouching and your best friend becomes a cockroach.”

(Creative imagery.) She thought with some amusement, since they both knew she’d prefer general pop where she’d rule the prison in a week and be free by the end of the month. (Meaning he won’t go for that suggestion.)

“So what’ll it be, Sionis?”

If she was to be honest, the answer she’d give would be, ‘Well, I would if I could, but Frank Sionis doesn’t stop at enslaving just his minions. Sorry, I wish I could screw him over but twenty years of brainwashing says I physically cannot do so more than I already am. Trust me, I’ve tried.’

The answer she ended up giving however was a middle finger to the prick who’d so rudely shocked her rather than simply letting her talk and have her way.

Later on, she would think it was supremely unfair that they zapped her when she didn’t even open her mouth. Especially when they did so to the point of forcing her to black out.

Completely understandable given how dangerous she was, (but still unfair.)