H00KS AND SPLiNTERS (Z)

[DEVEINNE DE L'AMBROSIA]

Usually on the way up these stairs, she'd feel excitement boiling up in her stomach. But not tonight. Instead, trembling feet that were barely able to get her up the stairs moved her body forward, barely making it along. Deveinne leaned most all her body weight onto the railing beside her, staring at the final flight of stairs she had to reach. It had never felt so incredibly long in her life before. Though she felt there was more safety up there with Z than out at the house with Kentaro. Torn off the street by her hair in the middle of the night by some random attacker...It wasn't a pleasant thing to come about usually. She looked incredibly beat up, as if she'd fallen down into a slaughter house and barely made it out alive.

Bruised and cut up knuckles curled up together, pressed against her abs in a tired fashion. Each bruised and beaten in muscle stiffening as she listened to the sounds of the night around her. Cars going off. People giggling or laughing or yelling. Noises...usually the were a comfort to her. But now she ached for nothing but silence. You see, two nights ago Deveinne had been walking home after doing another one of her late night runs to Z's house. And as she rounded a corner, was grabbed by an attacker from behind. She later found out the guy's name was Vaughn. How'd she find this out you ask..? The bastard had carved his name into her hip.

Her torn, barely there black tank top wasn't helping to cover all the cuts and bruises she'd received. Beaten mercilessly, dried blood still clung to her skin. His carved-in initials were visible through the clothing. As Deveinne rounded up on the last bit of stairs, she drew in a weak shaking breath. A quivering busted lip, the girl walked down the what seemed to be long trecherous hallway. God damn it was taking so long to just reach Z's apartment. Who probably had company over and didn't want to be bothered...Maybe she shouldn't come here first.

God did the girl feel suddenly terrible about what she was going to do. Lean on Z to cry to. Every part of her body ached. Hell it even hurt emotionally she'd have to say. It was never a beautiful thing to be raped and survive. As she stepped infront of the door, Deveinne heard heavier footsteps following behind on the stairs. A male's clearly. In a state of panic, she didn't even bother knocking. Her small beaten hand flew out from her side, grabbing onto the doorknob and twisting it quickly. Pushing her entire body weight down on it, she felt the door swing open beneath her, and she stumbled into the apartment.

Spinning on her bare feet, Deveinne slammed the door shut again, locking it. Trembling, she turned on her heels once more, looking around the apartment that seemed to be dead silent. Sniffling quietly, Deveinne called out in a soft voice, "Z......?"

[ZAHAARA "Z" MARTINEZ]

Z had been sitting on her bed in a white tank top and a pair of light purple short shorts, cleaning out her guns one by one. She'd spread cloth she used specifically for cleaning her guns over the dark blue and black comforter of her bed. She hadn't planned on going to sleep for a while, planning on popping in a movie or even reading a book [something she rarely had time for]. It wasn't that she wasn't tired, fuck was she tired, but Z was mourning...in her own way. She'd been so distracted that she'd unknowingly left her front door unlocked.

Deveinne had gone missing two days ago. She hadn't answered her phone, and no one had seen her all of those fourty-eight hours. It was Z's assumption that in their line of work, if someone were to go missing...they were either dead, or they'd simply left town or the country. Deveinne could have possible done the latter, but Z was leaning toward the former of the two. Too bad. Z had actually held a fondness for the girl, and she'd enjoyed the nights Deveinne had kept her bed warm.

Z cleaned one of her largest guns vigorously. Being sappy and sad wasn't her thing, it wasn't Z-like. Absently she flipped the long braid of her hair over her shoulder, letting it hang down her back. Sometimes when she got too hot, Z would either tied it with an elastic, or braid it --if she had the time. The braid tended to tame her hair a little better than a simple ponytail.

Her front door opened and closed.

The alpha was off the bed and on her feet, clicking the last piece of the gun into place before holding it up and ready to shoot at any threat. She moved to the door of her bedroom and peeked out into the living room and the hall by the door.

'Z......?'

That voice sounded fucking familiar! She lowered the gun and walked over to stand by the door, only when facing the door being able to see Deveinne leaning against it. "Shit..." She set the gun on the first available surface then went to the girl, taking in her appearance with quick flicks of her eyes. "What the fuck happened to you?" Her voice could have held concern, but in stead it held a tone of curiosity and nothing more...

She guieded the smaller girl toward the bathroom, and pushed her gently to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. Z yanked out the first aid kit, then got out cotton swabs and a bottle of pure alcohol. She couldn't let Deveinne get any infections...