Of Heroes and Villains (closed)

[Zom_Dom]

Rain poured down upon the city, running down tall skyscrapers of stone and steel towards the cold, wet cement of the sidewalks and gutters before continuing on down into sewers which in turn fed into aquifers, treatment plants, reservoirs, and in some cases, the river which ran through the city on its way towards the ocean. Despite the hard water pouring from the sky, and the gray clouds that covered the horizon from end to end, the city was abuzz with life, vibrant and strong and replete with countless numbers of people, thronging and massing in the central downtown area of the metropolis. Lights streamed from every window, up-beat music played out of great loudspeakers lining the central town square, and the teaming masses who populated down town that night threw out endless cheers, shouts, whistles, whoops and hollers as the bell on the courthouse clock tower struck midnight and a new year was rung in.

At that very moment, as untold numbers called and caroused, celebrating the first moments of 1998 with the greatest bang they could muster, legions of shambling bodies stumbled and ambled through the empty sewers beneath the city on the whim of their master, on their way towards a purpose only he knew and which he shared with none. As they wove their way through the labyrinthian corridors deep beneath the city streets, the one who controlled them sat at ease in a large velvet wingback chair in a dark office on the top floor of one of the architectural masterpieces that made up the city’s skyline.

Smythe looked out upon the celebrating inhabitants of the city as they cavorted and gamboled in the large, brick-laden square outside the courthouse, waiting for his minions to begin their reign of terror and destruction which would begin any minute, once they’d crawled up through manhole covers and sewer grates. Any moment they would burst forth and wreak havoc upon the populace, causing mayhem in those streets the likes no one had ever seen… He laughed softly to himself and twisted his ebony handled cane in his right hand, waiting and watching… Any minute now, he thought. “Any minute now, this simple celebration will become a mass overflow of panic and riot as my shambling hordes fill the streets… Then the second phase of my great plan will be put into action; I will crush this city in my cold grip until its pulse weakens and fades, and every man woman and child within its borders knows the cold loneliness of death that I hold within my heart.” He spoke aloud then, addressing the shadowy half of the room which lay behind his tall, ornamental chair.

He laughed loud and high, cold and evil as he sat secure in his high rise suite surveying the town before and below him. None could stop him now, nor stand in his way. This was the beginning of the end for the huddled masses below him, all of whom would soon be cowering in fear and begging for mercy; the same mercy that had been denied him and which he would disdain to show them in return. He stood from the chair, smoothing down the black and white pinstriped suit jacket he wore, a hand instinctively straightening the blood-red silk tie that hung around his neck while the other hand reflexively gripped his ebony handled cane, then he slowly strode to the window and pressed his hand against the glass as he stared down at the assembled members of the general populace too busy with their celebrations to even consider him up there, peering down at them and smiling in anticipation.

“Look at the city, Latrice. All these feeble peons run about, carousing and galavanting as if untouchable. Not a care in the world for their safety or well being, nor a single moment spared to regret the shameful actions all have precipitated in the past. This city is diseased, and they are the cancer that plagues it. I used to believe we were akin to the surgeon’s scalpel, set to remove decaying, infected flesh from the body of humanity before it can spread its filth and contamination. I realize now though, that we are the cleansing fire that comes after the patient is truly lost, that removes the blighted body from the world, so that others might not be infected by its putrid corpse. Is everything in place?”

 

[Ausus_girl13]

Latrice sat immobile, watching her Master as he cackled with glee at the screams from below. She had answered him in the affirmative when he asked if all was in place. It was, or at least her part of it. She had made sure that a good part of the city was down there, along with most of the emergency crews and most of it's leadership, all in one place, ready to be consumed. Led like lambs to slaughter. She shuddered at her actions.

She stared at him, her Master and her love. She had met him some time ago, when she was much younger. She had been entranced by his simple grace. He had carried himself with a quiet emanating power and this first glance of him had only created a schoolgirl crush. This pale, ghost of a man had fascinated her. She had sought him out, following him, and finally had caught his pupiless eye with her own silent quiescence to the slight nod of his head that called her to his side. She had not left his side since.

She had lain beneath him, calling his name softly in pleasure, or screamed it to the heavens when he punished her for this deed or that. They were never far from each others side. She loved him truly, and would do anything for him, but in the years leading to this point she had not truly seen him. His cackle cut to the heart of her. Latrice whimpered a little as she sat next to him, and watched the crowd disperse, or try to as they fell under her Masters legions.

Latrice had simply not believed it when this moment came, they had carefully planned the past few years for this and she had never believed it would happen. That this man, her Master harbored such a deep hatred as to release this scourge upon the city, upon the people. Their screams reached the placid room, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.

She leaned down next to him, smelling his scent and almost stopping herself, but she couldn't. Softly, she kissed his lips, stopping the sounds that came from them, and looked into his eyes that only reflected her.

"Master, I cannot do this, I cannot do this with you. This is so painful. I love you, and this is killing me. You will not stop it. I know that. But I can try. I love you." Latrice kissed him once more and removed her collar setting it in his hands, before turning and walking out the door.

She fell to the floor outside the door, sobbing, but she crawled to the elevator and gripped the handle bar as it flew to the bottom floor and she slipped out the back door, separating herself from the hordes of hungry walking dead and disappearing into the glittering night.

http://img2.gelbooru.com//images/543/8ff9fc8b81e3247ef06cdc0e71ef2dea.jpeg?672082

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe felt Latrice’s soft lips upon his own, her tender scent floating across to him. The kiss was poignant and tender, and it sufficed to pull his attention from the city sprawling beneath them and its teeming masses, both alive and undead. Her words were firm, firmer than he’d heard from her in a long time and they caused him to wonder idly how much control it was taking to keep her voice from wavering as she spoke. So she was leaving? Perhaps for a little while, the evening maybe, but he knew she’d be back. She had left before, several times in fact. The first time when he’d unveiled his plans for her, she’d left for the night and not returned until morning. But she’d come back to him, possibly a little worse for wear after spending the night who knew where. He hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t mentioned it; they had come back together and things were back to normal between them soon after. The last time she’d left though, she’d disappeared for two days. That had been after he’d unveiled his prototype for her the very first time. There had clearly been something about the mass of writhing, thrashing limbs that had scared her deeply, and even then he remembered the way she ran from the room, bile choking her throat visibly and desperation to escape easily visible as she ran from the lab.

This was different though… Never before had she removed her collar, never before had she dared take a step like that. She knew her place by his side, and had never strayed from it for long in the past, and never once since he placed it around her neck had she made any motion to remove her collar. It felt fold and overly heavy in his hand, and he gripped it tightly, his fingers squeezing it so tightly his knuckles whitened and he felt his closely clipped nails dig into his palm. The next kiss Latrice placed upon his lips was just as tender, and soft, and inviting, but at the same time it held a sense of loss and sorrow and above all, finality. It said simply, ‘Goodbye.’ Unable to respond to this sudden turn of events, unwilling to turn and run after her like some simpering puppy dog, Smythe let her go, his pupilless gaze never leaving the cityscape. “Hmph.” Below, countless numbers of his legions were reaking havoc among the new year’s eve partygoers, causing pain and misery and sending shock and awe through the masses in a blitzkrieg the likes of which had never been seen before. He simply couldn’t understand why Latrice would have left, no, how she could have left. She had been instrumental in the development of the prototype, the organization of the entire plan, every stage of the entire operation thus far since he’d begun including her so long ago.

He sighed, long and low, shaking his head as he watched the beginnings of the panic on the streets below. “What have you done, little girl? Where will you go? Hmph…” He shrugged off thoughts of her, set his mind back to the opening act of the epic drama unfolding before him and beneath him. The smoldering anger burned deep inside of him as it always had, although now it was tinged slightly with a sadness he couldn’t quite fathom at the moment. The streets of the city below were packed with crazed, manic citizens and even more crazed, hungry legions who walked at Smythe’s command. Somewhere out there, he knew, Latrice walked as well, not part of either group but something, someone, apart, like him.

-----------------------------------------------------​

Time passes, Smythe once told her, not like a river or like sand or anything at all so tangible. Time passes like the wind, he had said. Try as one might to hang onto it, a moment here or there might only he captured briefly before flowing on and disappearing without a trace. The wind blew hard for Smythe, and easily enough six months passed. The initial phase of his plan had faltered, and although he had managed to keep that first night from ending in total disaster, he had been set back greatly by the departure of Latrice. Smythe stared out the same window as before, looking down upon the city he hated so, and her name came as an unbidden whisper to his lips… “Latrice…” They felt dry and cracked every time they echoed her name, and though he tried to affect an air of indifference with regard to her, he had yet to replace her either as his assistant, by his side, or in his bed. Instead he had taken one of the less flawed of his prototypes, a carefully built bag of bones and machinery and chemicals and flesh that had come together as a completely subservient slave with the I.Q. of a three year old. Smythe growled at him, never turning in his direction, and barked “Beta, I’m going out. Clean this place up while I’m gone, it’s a mess!” The office was flawless, as always, but Smythe couldn’t think of anything else to keep the mindless drone occupied besides chores and busywork. Striding across the office and into the elevator, he tapped his cane impatiently on the floor as he waited for it to reach the ground floor.

He strode purposefully out the front door and out onto the street, his mind a flurry of mingling emotions as he walked across the street. He didn’t even know what he was so angry about at that moment, or what had driven him outside before nightfall. The sun was setting overhead, and the sky looked as if it had been doused in brandy and set ablaze; mellow gold and burnt orange bled into tangerine and crimson as bright as his tie, fading slowly into the deep alcoholic purple and violet at the edge of the horizon. Smythe shambled slowly down the street, feeling completely out of place down among the heathens he detested so, wondering what in the world the appeal of that cursed place could be. Suddenly though, as he rounded a street corner, a familiar scent came to him; one he hadn’t smelled in months. It was soft and slightly floral yet spicy, enticing in a way he couldn’t describe, and drew his gaze down the block towards a head bobbing among the masses. For just a moment it looked like… No, it was! The appearance might have changed slightly, but the way she carried and composed herself, and above all that scent… It had to be Latrice. Smythe began following a few feet behind, as closely as he dared, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face before she melted into the crowd once more. What was she doing there? Was it coincidence that had brought them together that day?

 

[Ausus_girl13]

As Latrice slipped into the night, that first night her heart broke. She was devastated and the screams of the victims only added to her heartbreak. Latrice made it safely to a motel outside of the city using her own vehicle that she hadn't told Smythe that she had bought. It was a sporty little car and he wouldn't have approved, she grinned ruefully at this thought. He was so damn proud- she stopped this thought from continuing. She paid the owner and took over her room.

This night she knew would be the worst. She felt light without her collar, and aimless, like she didn't have anyone to please or serve. Latrice tossed and turned, she heard the aimless moans, and gunshots of the battle outside. The noise never got too close, and when she couldn't stand the feeling of dread, she got up and went into the shower attempting to let the water was away her worry, but her body was so tense. She heard the pounding on her door, she knew it was one of those fucking zombies.

It was enough, she stormed out of the shower, the water dripping off her body like the sweat from a glass of iced tea. She slammed open the door and stared back at the creature with disdain for a moment before slamming out her hand and catching the creature in the throat. It fell back with a gurgle and she grabbed her knife and stepping out onto the walkway, she shoved the knife into it's eye. Removing the knife from the now, really dead creature she pushed it lightly over the banister listening to the wonderful noise as it slapped into the pavement below.

She took out the others in the balcony, as they pounded doors, or munched on the motel residents. She was not afraid of them, she was so angry that their necks and head splattered beneath her well placed kicks that she was soon covered in their viscera. She returned to her room and pulled on her catsuit. With out thinking she fastened her blue necklace to her neck. It fit like her collar, and she was pleased that it matched the color of her eyes, she seemed cold like ice, and part of her had frozen.

She headed out the door and spent the night taking out the zombies as she came across them. When the police force had made their stand at dawn, she was at their side, telling the captains' what to do. The night ended with the death of Smythe's plan and she had been instrumental to that. She thought of returning to him, but knew that part of her was closed off right now.

**********************​

Six month's later Latrice was ready. She had finally finished her treatments, and her tears no longer froze as they fell from her eyes. She was a different person without Smythe. She had created a cocoon of love and service around her. She worked with the city as a consultant, making sure that plans were in place in case Smythe decided to unleash his improved version of zombies. She made sure that those in the know, were aware of who she was to Smythe but most were unaware.

She traveled into the city to shop then, for something pretty. She felt that she finally deserved a measure of happiness and as the sun shone down on her shoulders she finally relaxed for a moment. She looked into the stores and noted that she didn't chose her outfits based on whether Smythe would like them or not. It was about what she wanted. And although she still wore her blue necklace to remind her of him, the necklace also represented her inner strength, her unique new skill.

It was then that she felt a chill, and something akin to her old sadness settled on her shoulders. She turned and looked. And she knew it when she looked who she would see. There he was. Like a wish, she thought it and he appeared. Latrice shivered slightly and tried to decide if she should approach him. Then realizing she knew her former flame well enough; she turned from him and entered a restaurant that she knew he would like, and took a table at the back, waiting for him to approach her, if he dared.

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe followed slowly behind her for almost the entire length of a city block, the entire time wondering what exactly it was that was driving him. He should have been down in the laboratory, working on improving the latest batch of lackeys he intended to unleash upon the city in the near future. There were too many complications still to be solved before he attempted another full scale assault upon the city, and at that very moment he should have been hard at work figuring out ways around said complications. At the same time, he should also have been upstairs managing the business end of his establishment. It wouldn’t do to take too much time away, the miserable peons working for him could only manage themselves for so long before they broke down and the entire system fell apart. He felt like a child with an ant farm, as antiquated as the analogy was. All scurried about, unaware of the greater situation, only knowing their miniscule role and the part they played without ever stopping to think about the impact they had upon the whole. He guided them, giving incentives here, removing obstacles there, directing their paths away from the useless to the worthwhile… That was it, he realized. He needed a break from the mindless drivel that had been forced upon him since her departure… She had done more damage than she could have known, leaving him like that at the height of his triumph and disappearing into the cold, harsh night. Life was full of disappointments, though, and he had learned that lesson early on. He had soldiered on without her as best he was able, despite the terrible setbacks she had caused with her abrupt exodus six months prior.

Why the devil was he following her then? What purpose would that serve? It might not even be her… His lips curled into a snarl as he felt the beginnings of disgust for himself and this whole venture out of doors when suddenly his query turned and glanced in his direction. Sure enough, it was Latrice. He was taken aback for just a moment as he wondered if she’d seen him; what looked like a spark of recognition had crossed her face before she turned and began walking again. Just then she ducked into a restaurant though, one which they’d frequented in the past. Was it a trap? Was she trying to bait him? Surely not; how could she have even known he would be out on the street at that time when he hadn’t even known it himself until a brief moment before leaving his office… Still, her reasoning intrigued him, and so he followed, opening the door casually and stepping inside. Everything inside seemed cast in shadow, as his eyes took a few moments to adjust to the different light. Rubbing them softly with a thumb and finger, he bowed his head slightly before glancing around the restaurant briefly. Sure enough, Latrice had picked a table in back and sat casually behind it, facing towards him with her hands clasped in front of her on the table top. There seemed to be no look of supplication in her, none of the previous mannerisms or small innate expressions to which he had grown accustomed from her during their past acquaintance and relationship.

Cocking his head to one side, the blank expression never leaving his face as he stared straight ahead at her, he adjusted his tie slightly and walked slowly and nonchalantly across the semi-empty restaurant to her table. Placing the cane beside him, within easy reach, he sat down across from her, his eyes never leaving hers, not even when the waiter came by to give them both menus and began describing the day’s specials. Smythe casually waved the young man silent with a quickly raised hand, and uttered simply, “Scotch on the rocks, and the lady will have a cosmopolitan.” He dismissed the stunned waiter with a casual flick of the wrist, who then mumbled something unintelligible and wandered off to place their drink order. Smythe simply looked into Latrice’s deep blue eyes, his expression blank and ineffable while they waited. Soon the waiter returned and placed their drinks before them, taking out a pad of paper and pen in order to write down their menu selections. “A few minutes, if you please.” Smythe said in the same easy, expressionless tone, shooing the waiter away again before cocking his head to one side and taking a slow sip from his glass. “Bloody hell, is this what passes for scotch these days?” He asked no one in particular, setting the glass back down before him and clearing his throat.

“So, I suppose it will be up to me to begin the conversation here, seeing as how you have been quite content to simply sit, silent and obtuse… I suppose that’s to be some comment on my behavior of the last night we were in each other’s presence? You gushing with sorrowful words while I sat, still as stone and cold and aloof as death itself.” He took another sip from the glass before setting it aside and cocking his head to the other side, waiting for some response from Latrice. When none was forthcoming, he ventured, “Very well, if that’s to be the case, I suppose I will start things off. I did not come here to ask you back, or to revenge myself upon you for leaving before, I simply came in because I was unsure whether it was you or not I saw out on the street. You look well, and I see you still have the necklace I gave you so long ago…” His stony expression cracked into a wide, predatory smile as she looked taken aback briefly, a hand reaching up to finger the necklace in question gently. “It looks good on you, it brings out the color in your eyes. Well, what has been keeping your interest these past few months? Besides spoiling the best laid plans you helped craft during our time together?” He smile widened slightly as the briefest look of shock crossed her face, quickly changing to a tight lipped blankness again. He let out a harsh chuckle and continued, “Oh yes, I’ve found out just what went wrong that night. It took some work, and time, but I finally found out who had beaten back the cleansing fire I tried to set forth upon this city that cold winter’s night. You can imagine my surprise when I learned that a woman matching your description was seen galavanting around town that night, aiding police and fire and rescue crews and dispatching my poor minions wherever she went…”

Smyth took another sip and relaxed back into his chair slightly, the smile never leaving his otherwise expressionless face as his blank, off white eyes stared deeply into hers, waiting for a response. “I don’t have to tell you just what that did to me, hearing that my beloved little girl had not only walked out of my life and into that cold dark night, but ventured to ruin everything we had thus far created together in one fell swoop. That’s all in the past though now, and just to show you there’s no hard feelings, how about you let me take you out tomorrow night, hmmm? I’ll meet you outside my office, you remember where that is still, I’m sure, around seven. Until then…” He reached into his jacket pocket, took out a few bills and dropped them on the table next to his unfinished drink. Then, standing from the table and taking his cane in hand, he turned smartly on his heel and walked out of the restaurant, not looking back once at the surely stunned Latrice. Well, not quite how I imagined it, but not a total loss, either. Perhaps tomorrow will bring a few answers, as opposed to today’s stunned silence…

 

[Ausus_girl13]

She knew he would come, he was so arrogant. Latrice knew that he still sought to be the center of her universe. What she didn't see coming was her own pull to him, she was drawn to him. Once he stepped into that restaurant, once he ordered for her again, those simple displays of power, that he was there to take care of it. She was doomed. She felt her submission settle over her like a blanket, comforting and itchy all at the same time. Smythe unbalanced her like no other man had the power too.

So she forced herself to remain still as he talked unable to say a word for the catch in her throat. Refusing to go down that path again. She held herself in check, surprised and then stunned as he recalled the previous new year's events. She felt the pull in his voice, and she had to keep herself from falling into his lap. From begging him for forgiveness and accepting the punishment he deemed worthy for her betrayal.

Then he got up and left and she shook her head, clearing it. She could smell him near, and she had heard his invitation to his office this next night. She sat and sipped at the cosmo he had ordered for her. She was shaken that much was very clear. She decided to take a walk to clear her mind and move away from his scent which still lingered in the air despite his absence. His voice had given her the shakes, and now his scent beckoned her to him.

She stormed out of the restaurant, determined to remember all the progress that she had made previously, she strode to the waterfront and looked out over the river, the lights of downtown sparkling in reflection in the dark night water. She breathed in the cool night air, finally free of his physical pull on her. She ripped the necklace that he had bought for her free from her neck, and froze it, the blue crystals breaking into a thousand small pieces that fell from her hands into the dark water below, making little splashes as they slipped below the surface.

She turned from the river then, and walked back into town stopping at the Tiffany's and purchasing a new necklace, a diamond collar. It was as beautiful as her eyes, and as cold as her feelings. Latrice smiled a deadly smile into the mirror that night as she prepared for the next day.

She decided to go for broke. Latrice put on a tight white corset, showing all of her curves, pushing her breasts up. She wore a simple pair of pinstripe pants and her new collar. She pulled her long silver hair up off her neck fashioning it into a chignon on the back of her head. She wanted to give off power and make sure that Smythe knew one thing. She had one thing to tell him, and then they could be done. She would never seek him out every again.

Jumping into her sporty little convertible she tore off into the night pulling up to Smythe's office a few minutes before he would walk out the door. She leaned casually against the car and smiled benignly at the door. Latrice prepared herself for the onslaught she knew was certain to come from him.

When he walked out the door, looking as powerful and handsome as ever, she stood and moved to his side, keeping herself calm.

"Smythe, this is done. I no longer belong to you." She stared at him for a minute more, before turning and strode back to her car.

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe walked out of the restaurant and wandered aimlessly along the thronged streets, a snarl upon his lips as his blank, grey eyes traveled over the crowds that brushed past him on their way. Ordinarily he would have been angry at the constant small jostles and bumps and prods he received in passing, but that night his mind was elsewhere. Though his countenance still retained its typical sneer of derision and his gait remained a steady long legged stride, indeed his outward appearance retained every bit of controlled composure and confident strength that he regularly projected, inside he was a jumbled, tangled mess of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Latrice… There was something about her, something different tonight… He mused to himself, turning a corner and moving further away from the office building that housed both his public front and the entrance to his lab. He wondered what she had been doing downtown on a night like that, and what, if anything, their little impromptu reunion meant for the future. Surely, now that she knew he’d found out about her involvement in that fateful night she wouldn’t make the same mistake the next time around. Sighing softly to himself as he pushed through yet another crowd, he shook his head from side to side, attempting to clear it of all the muddle that seemed to be filling it.

As he shambled down a small side street and under a burnt out street lamp he passed two bums conversing in a locked, darkened doorway as they passed a bottle between themselves. Without missing a beat, Smythe reached into his jacket pocket, removed his cellular phone and dialed a familiar number. Speaking into the receiver, he said “Send a small pickup crew to…” He glanced about, searching for the street signs, “Fifth and Davis. Two subjects to be brought to the lab for preliminary eval.” He hung up with a click, placing the phone back into his pocket and continuing on. Always good to have fresh test subjects. That thought buoyed his spirits and even gave him a little swagger that lasted until the end of the block, where he turned another corner and turned to move through another crowd of people. The smallest echo of a smile played across his lips as he briefly considered hauling in an entire block’s worth of people and pressing them into service as test subjects and lab rats in his underground facilities. Not yet, he told himself. Soon, but not yet… He wandered absently down the city streets until eventually he found himself in one of the green belts littered throughout the cityscape; small stretches of grass and trees and other vegetation interspersed with benches and water fountains, all meant to create a better sense of community and civic pride. The streetlights in this part of town glowed a little more softly than elsewhere, the soft yellow glow issuing forth from their bulbs casting everything in muted tones. Out of the corner of his eye, Smythe saw a now familiar poster taped to the side of a tree and walked over to it. It was a flyer decrying the events of six months ago, and it gave citizens instructions as to exactly who to contact and how in the event they saw any fugitive “creatures” as they were then called. Smythe resented that description, and with a low guttural growl, tore the poster down from the tree, clenching it in his fist and balling it up. Reaching into his jacket pocket once more, he pulled out his phone and dialed another, different yet equally familiar number: that of his personal driver. “Williams, I’m on the northwest greenbelt downtown.” No more needed be said, as Williams had been Smythe’s driver for long enough that he knew the entire town like the back of his hand and so was able to respond to his boss’s whims rapidly. That was the reason he’d remained Smythe’s driver and had yet to become another labeled, unnamed test subject. A short few minutes later, Williams showed up in the black town car and Smythe piled inside, signaling for “Home.”

Daytime, Smythe had once told Latrice, was for the masses, while nighttime was for individuals. Just look, he’d said, at the sheer differences between the standard crowds. Daytime brought throngs of cattle, all headed in their differing directions, off on petty errands or slaving away for that tiny salary they had sold their lives and souls and dignity for. Nighttime brought out those who neither thronged nor worked, simply existed in their own independent, individual ways. So it was that the next night, a few short minutes before he was scheduled to meet Latrice, Smythe looked out once more upon the last dying embers of sunlight that refused to die and instead lay bleeding crimson and burnt orange and violet and candy apple red rays upon the horizon. Heaving out a sigh, he turned from the last vestiges of daylight and walked across the office, taking the elevator to the ground floor as the convertible pulled up alongside the curb just outside. By the time he had reached the door to the building proper, Latrice had already propped herself against the passenger side door of the car and leaned there, waiting for him. The moment he looked upon her, the same feeling of unknowable change came over him. There was something about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet, that was different. Granted, she was still as stunning as ever, especially bedecked out as she was in all her finery that night. Smythe had opted for something simple and casual and familiar, a straight-laced black suit, black leather wingtips and a gray silk tie that matched the off white hue of his skin. Stopping three short steps outside his office building, he stood, hands resting atop his cane as she came towards him.

As she spoke her peace he remained calm, stone faced and silent, but when she began walking back to her car he allowed her a three step head start before following. Whatever it was about her that had changed, he certainly couldn’t place it now. It was easy for him to see that for the second time in two days his frazzled nerves had calmed, his mind had slowed and regained its steady composure, and he was able to think much more clearly, even if he couldn’t deduce the origin of change within her. It was also easy for him to see that all of these changes revolved around her presence, although he pushed the thought from his mind with a fierce shake of the head just before he grabbed the passenger side door handle of the sports car and sat down inside. Latrice opened the driver side door, slid into her seat and turned to face him, a look of mixed surprise, awe and frustration on her face. Smythe simply gave his head a quarter turn in her direction and nodded, “We have reservations at eight at Vitaly’s up on twenty third. I trust you remember the way…” With that he nodded again and turned to look out the front windshield, waiting for her to get under way. Her hands gripped the steering wheel and they sat for a full minute, silent, by the curb in front of the office building before getting under way. Latrice wove through traffic, took corners faster than necessary, evidently doing everything she could to shatter, or at least crack the calm façade Smythe had affixed to his face upon exiting his office earlier. They arrived at the restaurant with half an hour to spare, parked and walked to the front door, all again in silence. The only concession he made was to open the door and hold it for her, which she returned with a curt nod as she passed. As he followed her in, Smythe became intensely and intimately aware of the scent of her, which brought mingled fond and depressing memories to mind.

The hostess stood behind a small podium and greeted them with a bright fake smile before taking down the name of the party. She did a double take and the smile faltered momentarily when she realized who she was talking to, and showed them to a table by the window without even asking if they had a reservation. Latrice simply chuckled to herself and shook her head slowly from side to side as they sat and a waiter filled the water glasses and handed them both menus. “Are you going to order for me again?” She asked, arching an eyebrow at Smythe over her menu as she perused the wine list. He gave a small “Hmph.” in reply and continued with “If you insist…” Briefly anger flashed across her features, disappearing as quickly as it showed, and he noted that she was actively trying to retain her composure again. Something had her rattled… Smythe gave the waiter a wave and the moment the young man stepped up to their table, he began “Glenlivet twenty four, on the rocks, and the lady will have a long island.” He glanced at the menu briefly before turning to the waiter again, “We’ll have the special, both of us.” Smirking, he waved the waiter away and turned to face Latrice again. “Now that that’s out of the way, how about you tell me what you’ve been up to these past few months, besides walking out on me, dashing our plans for world order, and of course stalking me during my constitutional last evening…” Smythe cocked his head to one side as he studied Latrice from across the table. Her chest heaved prettily as she watched him in return, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking at that moment. Their drinks arrived and Latrice turned to take hers, thanking the waiter while Smythe never took his pale, blank eyes from her, merely taking the drink from the young man and raising it to his lips for a taste. “Ahhh… So much better than that stale swill they attempted to pass off last night… This is already starting to feel like old times; I speak and you listen. I suppose now though, that makes you the ‘strong, silent type,’ eh?” He laughed softly to himself at the joke, “So, little one, what did you mean earlier, outside my office?”

 

[Ausus_girl13]

Latrice couldn't believe it, as Smythe slid into the seat next to her. He calmly ordered her to drive and it took all of her strength not to turn to him and.. Latrice slid that thought away from her and she put her foot down, driving in exactly the same manner that he had beat Williams for driving like. She knew exactly where they were headed it being a favorite place of theirs for a long time.

Once they were seated and Smythe had of course done his song and dance, Latrice looked down and took a deep breath. She put a smile on her face and looked up at her former master.

"You don't change do you? Always expecting me to be the one to bend to your will. Let us not go there for tonight. I have made it plain that I am no longer yours, and this dinner shall pass sweetly for us both if we do not dredge up dead memories." She placed particular emphasis on the word dead, and watched his slight wince. She could see that she still affected him, but perhaps that was a good thing. She took a sip of her tea and looked over at him with a little twinkle in her eye.

The food was sublime that night, the sweetbreads divine and the spring mushrooms with the kidney mustard sauce heralded the coming of warmer weather and sweeter delights. She knew that Smythe truly enjoyed his roasted pork, covered with a bacon and cider braised cabbage. That was one thing they shared a love for well prepared local cuisine. They finished the night with a brandy, that they both sipped at, Latrice holding it with both hands to warm the beverage slightly. They watched each other evenly, without giving the other an idea to their feelings, they were both so guarded. The slight haze of alcohol making Latrice yearn for Smythe's touch again.

They paid and moved out into the night, the streetlights creating small pockets of light around themselves. Standing next to the trunk of her car, Latrice turned and looked up at the man who had been her master. He smirked slightly at her and ran a hand down her arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps and she shivered at his cool touch. Without thinking Latrice launched herself into his arms, catching him off-guard for only a moment as she kissed him, feeling his arms encircle her and pull her to his chest as he moved into the kiss. Their lips moving together, as they both fought themselves and each other for dominance in this simple kiss. With a small bite to her bottom lip, Smthe asserted himself and Latrice simply whimpered and clung to him as she had so many times before.

Their lips melded together and it was like a homecoming for them both as their tongues sought each other out, playing like old friends. She tasted him again, the sweetness of the brandy still clinging to his tongue. Latrice breathed him in, that earthy male smell that drove her crazy, she had kissed other men, but it was never like this they could never stand up to Smythe. His frame beneath his suit called to her and she ran her wayward hands up his shoulders and around them, feeling their strength, their familiarity. Her small nimble fingers worked themselves into the back of his short hair, and she attempted to pull him closer as they kissed. She moaned softly against his cool lips, and was surprised to feel him harden slightly against her belly.

He pulled her away from him then, and tucked her up under his arm, while he motioned to his car, the slight crackle of tire on asphalt breaking through the lust she was feeling, but before she could utter a word, she was swept inside the car and into Smythe's arms, his lips pressed to hers again, his body weight against her and she succumbed to her feelings and curled around him. She knew he was taking her home again.

 

[Zom_Dom]

As they sped through town, the car weaving in and out of traffic as Latrice’s foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor angrily, the air around them began to crackle with electricity and tension. Her movements were fluid yet she gripped the steering wheel with in clenched fists, her knuckles a bright contrasting white against the dark grain of the leather about which they were wrapped. The rest of the trip to the restaurant took a scant few minutes, the entirety of which was passed in utter silence as he waited for her to respond. When they arrived, she practically flew out of the car as he calmly stepped out, closing the door softly behind him and they walked, an arms breadth apart, inside. They were seated promptly, the hostess smiling benignly at both of them with recognition, as they had been here many times in the past and were still easily remembered as a fixture. Admittedly, neither had been there with the other since the split months ago, but it was evident that the hostess believed them to still be together, as she placed them at their usual table in back between a small brick fireplace and a window which overlooked the small pear trees behind the restaurant. A waiter, new to both of them, came, took their drink orders (hot tea for Latrice and scotch on the rocks for Smythe) and returned with them before disappearing to let them peruse the menu.

It wasn’t until the waiter had returned and Smythe placed their order that Latrice opened her mouth to reply to address Smythe at all. Her response came out in a controlled, harsh tone although Smythe could infer from every syllable and word that she was under intense stress at that moment, internally torn between opposing thoughts and viewpoints. During the course of their relationship he had grown able to sense her thoughts and feelings to an extent through her expressions and the way she spoke. Times when she had spoken to him in that clipped, short, almost breathless manner were few and far between, and probably countable upon one hand. That she spoke to him again then proved nothing more than that he could still dredge up a reaction from her, which buoyed him and gave his confidence (and ego) a boost that it had been lacking during the long silence that preceded it. However, her flourishing finish dripped with palpable venom as the spat out the word “dead,” at which he visibly recoiled before setting his face into a guarded stony expression once more. The food arrived and they tucked in, without another word, the tension between them growing by the minute as her words played through his mind over and over… Dead memories? What foolish game is she playing at? If she were as truly bitter and uncaring as she claimed, she wouldn’t have even bothered to show up, let alone proceed this far into the evening without letting loose that acid tongue of hers and giving me what-for.

As dinner drew to a close, they closed out the experience with a glass of brandy, each sipping slowly at their glasses as the logs in the fireplace hissed and crackled, burning off the chill that hung in the air despite the season. That was one thing Smythe loved about that city, it was never unduly warm, even in the summer months. A patter of rain began outside, the drops clinging to the window and running down in little rivulets as she looked out upon the lush greenery and he watched over her shoulder, staring into the burning fireplace. When at last their bill was paid, the tension between them had grown to something palpable, as though it were possible to reach out and tug the invisible band the hung between them and draw them both along by it. Latrice’s eyes had a gleam in them as she rose from the table, and did not recoil from him as he reached out and took her arm in his, escorting her through the maze of tables and out into the cool night air. The rain had stopped, but there was a faint mistiness to the air, and their bodies radiated heat through it, drawing closer and closer together until they drew up to her car again. When she turned and looked into his eyes, he saw the flame of desire burning bright in them, emblazoned there as it always had been in the past, and all those old, “dead” memories came rushing back… He reached out and touched her arm, so warm and soft against his cool, pale flesh, and suddenly she was a blur of movement, rushing against him and wrapping her limbs around him, throwing him momentarily as she pressed against him and his arms encircled her. Their lips met, and locked, and suddenly it was as though an explosion had occurred in his chest. Her warmth engulfed him, his blood began to boil in her veins as all the tension between them that had been building all night was suddenly released.

The taste of her was intoxicating, although that was not due to the brandy that still clung to their lips and tongues as they tasted and explored each other’s mouths for the first time in months. Her fingers danced across his body before coming to rest in his hair, tenderly pulling him against her and kissing him more passionately still, sucking his lips as his arms slid down her sides and his hands caressed and enwrapped her firm backside, pulling her tighter against him as he attempted to wrap himself in her warmth. A thought came to him then, and he knew what must happen next, so he broke momentarily and signaled to Williams, who promptly pulled alongside the couple and rushed to open the door for them. Smythe bundled Latrice into the back, wrapping her in his arms once they were situated inside and the car began moving again without another word from Smythe. Williams knew the way, as did the two reunited lovers in the back seat, and as the black town car wended its way through the ill-lit streets of the nighttime cityscape, they began their torrid embrace once more. Smythe’s lips caressed her soft skin, his teeth grazing down her neck before planting a small bite at the base while one hand caressed her thigh, sending visible shivers through the both of them. She moaned into him as her lips traveled over his skin in return, her hands exploring every bit of him they could reach as though to make a perfect sense memory of his body, the curves and contours of his muscles through his clothes, the arch of his back as he kissed down across her chest, the bend of his knee as he leaned down over her and pressed his hips into hers, grinding her between his throbbing desire and the leather clad seat. The journey may have taken ten minutes or ten hours; either way the two ensconced in back wouldn’t have noticed, so enwrapped were they in rediscovering and touching and tasting each other’s beings.

When the car finally pulled up alongside Smythe’s residence, an unassuming section of wall slid to one side, revealing an immense pocket door through which the town car disappeared before sliding back into place with a dull finality. Latrice had been the one to design that entrance, long ago, and Smythe gave a chuckle as he remembered its “maiden opening,” as she had called it then. She stirred under him, breaking their deep, needful kiss momentarily to gaze into his eyes, a look of animalistic hunger and need set upon her face as a wicked smile crept across her lips. In her icy blue eyes he saw twin reflections of his own grayish eyes, and although they didn’t show the pounding need that coursed through his veins, it was written plainly across the rest of his face. The car pulled to a slow stop, causing the two lovers to disentangle themselves and step through the car door and out into the opulence that was Smythe’s home once more. For him, the setting was nothing new, although for Latrice, it was surely a bittersweet homecoming and he couldn’t imagine the torrent that was her mind at that moment. Not allowing her to be whisked away by her thoughts, and with a desire to have them both in a more comfortable location, he swept her up into his arms and carried her through the myriad hallways before stopping at a large familiar oak door. During their journey, Latrice wrapped her arms about his neck and contented herself for the time being with nipping up and down his neck and ruffling his short, dark hair with her long, slender, pale fingers. She reached out, almost instinctively, and grasped the doorknob, throwing wide the door and allowing them entrance. He stepped slowly through the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he leaned in and drew from her another long, deep moan as they kissed. Half shuffling, half running toward the bed, she pulled him tighter to her and gave his lip a soft bite before he stumbled onto the bed with her, both of them falling to their sides as she wrapped her legs around him. He could hardly contain himself any longer, so great was his need for her at that moment, and his hands were a flurry of action and movement as they raced over her body once more, desperate to feel every inch of her as he pulled her stunning warmth to him once more.

 

[Ausus_girl13]

The night passed in a flurry of moments. Latrice running her nails up Smythe's pale cool back showing the absence of red marks trailing her fingers. Her moans filling the room, the soft sound of two bodies coming together. They progressively got more urgent in their lovemaking. Smythe wrapped his fingers into her hair pulling as his length filled her, it drew long low moans from her throat. She rode him, screaming his name over and over to the high ceilings, the bed rocking with their movement. The sound of his hand on her ass, smacking her as he pounded into her, his grunts as he pushed into her, her whimpers and moans mingling in the heavy air. Latrice couldn't count how many time she came, his name falling from her lips breathlessly as she slumped to the mattress beneath her only to wake up a little while later and find him in her again. She clung to him, to the feel of him, to his taste, to his touch over her body. She was his again and she breathed him in deeply, addicted.

The morning light in her face, stirred Latrice awake, she opened one eye and looked around not knowing where she was. It took her a moment for her to realize that she was back at home. Wait. This isn't home. She raised her head to look around, seeing Smythe next to her, his arm and leg thrown over her as he breathed that deep even rhythm of someone deeply gone. She sighed and buried her face in the pillow groaning at her stupidity. She had gone home with him, and then she... she blushed deeply into her pillow as the image of her taking Smythe deep into her throat with his hands in her hair; hit her. She shook the image from her head and decided to flee from it.

She slid from the bed an inch at a time very careful to not disturb the sleeping man. Latrice slid to the floor and let her head rest on the cool marble. She moved silently to standing, looking down at Smythe sadly for a moment. She grabbed her clothing and strode on bare feet out the door, getting dressed along the way. She made it down to the street and hopped into her car which she knew had been brought over here. She also knew she would have to ditch the car as soon as possible. Smythe would have seen this coming and had a tracking device put on her car. She sighed sadly not wanting to ditch her cute little convertible. But she saw no other way out. She had to run from Smythe for a little while.

But why? The part of her heart that loved Smythe was already craving his touch again another wave of images washing over her. She could hear her begging for him to allow her release and she pressed down on the gas pedal to escape the reaction from her body. She couldn't give into him now. She was so far a long in her journey from being "just" his slave. She could do this. She pulled into a little car dealership and took the nicest car they had, which was another smaller older convertible. She tore off in the opposite direction she had come, having left the wrong name and address with the salesman who had spent the entire time staring at her tits anyway.

She headed out of town and tore into her house. She stripped and threw the clothes she was wearing into the trash, not taking a chance that some sort of device clung to her clothes. The only thing she kept on was the diamond collar. She showered, clinging to the wall as sobs racked her frame. Her power was only released slightly resulting in a cooling of the temperature in the room. She hadn't known she could do that yet. She stepped out of the shower, wrapping a robe around herself, she walked into the simple bedroom and life she had created. She was Latrice, confidant to the mayor and individually responsible that the last horde had been defeated. She wasn't Smythe's plaything.

Latrice toweled off and dressed again, wearing a loose work out outfit. It was time to refine her training. She knew that her leaving would probably tear Smythe apart and she didn't know if he would come after her directly or against the city again. She headed to her basement, and began running through the routine that had kept her focused over the past few months.

Hit, kick, feint, create weapon, slice. Run, jump twist discard and recast the weapon. She moved effortlessly, her muscles trained and strong. She was a little sore, which she attributed to the previous night. Latrice smiled through her actions. She was ready.

 

[Zom_Dom]

More than one time that night their bodies lay together upon the bed like two perfect beings stretched and entwined into one, her soft, pale skin glowing radiantly with heat and warmth and life under the low lights while his provided the stark contrast of hard lines, cool temperature and off grey pallor. Her hands ranged across his body, fingers raking and pulling, tugging and teasing and enticing all the while. His own roved up and down her slender, agile form taking her in as if blinded by her beauty and now only able to feel his way along it. Truthfully, he felt the overwhelming need to feel and touch every part of her, to have it and take it and possess her again as he had in the old days, and the touch of her soft skin in his hands reminded him of their myriad times together. Mouths clung and locked together, tasting and teasing each other before trailing kisses and licks and bites all over, his tasting the sweetness of her skin, drinking in her warmth and voluptuous liveliness as if it were a drug, swaying drunkenly and moaning and groaning after, physically intoxicated by her after such a long absence.

Throughout the night he held her close at times, pushed her down some times, lifted her up other times, but always and every time his need for her grew more and more intense and insistent. At one point he lay sprawled across her back, pushing his throbbing length deep inside of her as she writhed and moaned beneath him, arms stretched out above her as his held them down and they were both wracked with pleasure and release. Another time later on, she clawed and bit at his chest as she rode him, bucking hard and throwing herself down onto him as his hands kneaded her soft flesh, smacking her supple backside and causing her to rock and pitch against him even harder. After a while, the entire evening began to blend together into an amalgam of pleasure and pain, torture and release, love and lust and need and desire and longing…

When they finally lay together completely and finally utterly sated, he found no trouble whatsoever falling asleep with her curled up in her traditional spot in his arms. One stretched out behind her back, wrapping around her and holding her tightly to him while the other rested comfortable under his own head, propping it up so he might gaze upon her as they both drifted off. His fingers danced across her soft skin, trailing little white pressure lines behind them. He watched them form in his hand’s wake, intricate patterns developing and fading to nothing upon her back as his eyes began to flutter and finally close for the evening.

When the morning came, Smythe stretched customarily, pulled himself to the edge of the bed as quietly as he could and surveyed the damage from the night before. The sheets and blankets and the like were roughly in tatters, while the local furniture had been particularly devastated, while that further out into the room remained only slightly disturbed by the prior night’s events. Now I remember why the bedroom was always so spartan and empty… He chuckled to himself as he drew on a pair of black silk boxers and wandered slowly to the bathroom, wondering if Latrice was in the shower or if she’d already gone down to make him some breakfast. Finding no one in the shower, he poked his head out into the hall and gave a quick shout, “Gamma!”

The slow, trundling form of the failed experiment came down the hallway and stood in front of Smythe’s door; pale, under-preserved head cocked to one side like a dog listening for its master, a dim expression on its face which wasn’t helped any by the goofy smile that always insisted upon laying right across it. Smythe sighed long and low before speaking, “Have you seen Latrice this morning?” He enunciated his words as clearly as he could for fear that Gamma would misunderstand and leave to search for her instead. Why had he brought these rejects to his home to serve him? He sighed again, shaking his head slowly from side to side as he thought about possibly bringing back one or two from the next batch to replace these old, tired members of his “staff.” Gamma nodded at the question eagerly, waving its arms in a complicated gesture to show that she’d gone down the hall earlier and slipped out a side door. Smythe’s eye began to twitch, the pale, milky orbs staring into the black, depthless eyes of Gamma, looking for some sign that would tell him she hadn’t apparently fled the scene, and knowing he wouldn’t find it there. He turned, letting the door swing wide as he trudged back towards the bed and on to his closet to find something to wear for the day. As a last minute thought, he turned over his shoulder and barked at Gamma, more out of irritation and frustration at the situation than anything, although he knew that if not given proper orders to move, Gamma would remain there in the doorway all day and possibly into the night. “Get back to work!!” It felt good to release a bit of anger, even if it was at an unfeeling, almost unthinking drone… It would have felt even better to be able to release some of it upon Latrice at that moment, though. Visions of old sessions began flowing through his mind, and it took a very concerted conscious effort to stem the tide and return to what he was doing.

After he’d dressed, found himself some breakfast (he didn’t trust the slightly rotten, decomposing members of his staff to prepare his meals, too much risk of finding something extra and unexpected in his meal) and then proceeded to his lab, where he sat down at his desk and began checking the listening devices he’d planted upon Latrice the evening before, in case of just such an eventuality. That had been the rational part of him, the part that had kept cool and sane and utterly logical, even in the face of the manic passion that had overtaken the rest of him last night. Her car sat totally idle in a downtown lot, and he flicked on the microphone, hoping to catch some local chatter to give him an idea if she was near. Sadly though, it seemed as though she had ditched it. He flicked rapidly through the others, searching for one that she might possibly have missed; but it seemed that she had paid too much attention to his lessons over the years, and knew exactly where to look for them and how to dispose of the smaller, more mobile listening and tracking devices. Embers of rage and frustration began to spark and glow in the back of his mind, a low guttural rumble which was not quite a growl and not quite a groan building up within his chest.

So that’s the way she wants it? He questioned himself, not having anyone else around, not even one of his simpleton servants. She left me once, she won’t do it again… He swore silently, hands clenching into tight, white fists of rage which shook vehemently upon the desktop. He stood suddenly, kicking back his chair as he reached out to take his cane, then striding purposefully across the lab to one of the table that held his latest batch of test subjects. He peeled back the great white canvas sheet, staring down at the unmoving figure that lay sprawled out upon the table, so calm and still and peaceful… Soon enough it would be alive and full of energy once more, and a will that would send it hurtling through town on a mission to finish what the first wave could not, and with another mission as well. Smythe shrugged off the long black jacket he wore, loosened his tie and leaned down over the cold, stiff, mottled grey corpse. If I can’t find a way of getting to her, I’ll make her come to me! He began chuckling to himself, a soft, angry hiss that whisked past his lips but which built to a mirthful, almost manic crescendo as he made adjustments here and there, fitting a connection and tapering off an old. “You’ll be ready soon, little one, and when you are… Well, she’ll have no choice at that point, won’t she? Either show herself or allow me my vengeance at last!” Smythe worked quietly on the figure upon the table, which was almost ready to be tested. If this one proved workable, he would be able to proceed with his plan and be ready in a month or less. In the mean time, he would have to keep a better eye on Latrice, lest she slip away into the shadows and elude him a third time…

 

[Ausus_girl13]

Latrice could feel him. Every ounce of her skin tingled with the appreciation that he was near her, and yet, she spent her time looking over her shoulder, never once catching a glimpse of him. It was making her jumpy. She couldn’t shake this feeling that he knew where she was. She moved into a different apartment, out of her house in the outskirts of town, she chose a place on the other side of town in a ritzy area that she knew Smythe disliked. Latrice even bought a new car, in the hopes that she could shake this feeling of dread.

About a month after her one night with Smythe, she was dreaming again of his touch, the way his hand curled into her hair, or the soft kisses and bites that he placed on her back. She woke with a start and dashed into her bathroom, quickly leaning over the toilet and puking her entire dinner out. She stared in shock at the contents of the bowl before her. Shaking her head as she stood, Latrice began to count weeks as she brushed her teeth, and then it hit her. It had been seven weeks since her last… Latrice stared in shock at her reflection in the mirror, the toothbrush dropping into the sink the plastic clattering against the porcelain. Latrice dashed out the door, threw on her coat and slammed the buttons in the elevator and ran to her car in the parking garage, tearing out as she drove to the nearest pharmacy, she ran inside and ran back out quickly, her heart pumping, tears running down her cheeks.

She was in shock. The open pregnancy test rested on the granite countertop, the little pink plus bright and shiny contrasting the dark of the countertop. Latrice held her sides and sobbed. She was so torn, and at no other moment before this she wanted to run to Smythe’s side and dance into his arms. To share this with him, to see his eyes brighten, to hear his shouts, they had talked often of this moment, they didn’t know it could actually happen due to Smythe’s condition.
“Fuck it.” She stood up and started to make her way to the door of her apartment, when she heard it. The soft groan, the shuffle of dragging feet, the sound making the hair on the back of Latrice’s neck stand up; she froze. Silently her weapon slid from her wrist, cold and deadly. She waited silently for the creature she knew was there.

When it lunged at her, all jaws and hunger, Latrice dodged and sliced at its arms, but the creature dodged her lunge and caught her in the ribs with its heavy leg. She grunted and sliced out with her sword, the freezing weapon catching the creature in the chest, slicing it open, the open gash didn’t stop the creature and it kicked out again. Latrice was too slow and this one caught her in the stomach. Furious and feeling protective, she swung out and sliced the creature’s head clean off. She dropped her weapon into the sink where it would melt, and fell to the floor in pain. She looked down at the juncture between her legs, and saw the stain of blood. Without thinking she knew what had happened. Curling on her side she wept, the tears running down her cheeks.

A week later it was confirmed. She wasn’t pregnant. And her feelings for Smythe solidified from an uneasy, liquid sort of feeling, to an ice, cold deadly hatred. She had warned the mayor, and the troops were ready for whatever he might unleash on the city.

But Latrice wasn't content to wait for him, so she returned to her former home, and waited for him to return one night. He came into the door as silent and dead as ever, and she slid out her weapon. He sensed her behind him, she could tell from the way his body froze and he softly called out her name.

"Latrice?"

"No, Smythe, you killed her. You may call me Ice." She smiled as the freezing weapon she had created, slid along his cool cheek cutting him.

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe worked diligently on his creations, tweaking a few things here, modifying a part there, occasionally stooping to tear out an entire apparatus and replace it with something entirely different. The work was agonizingly slow going sometimes, but it kept his focus from straying in other, less productive directions. He still kept a close eye on Latrice, or at least as close as he could manage. It would have been impossible to send one of his latest experiments to watch her, none of them were battle tested and the last thing he wanted was for her to find a weak point and exploit it before he’d had a single chance to unleash them upon the much more deserving populace who had scorned and ruined him so long ago. Anger flared within his breast, keeping him warm during the long hours he toiled away in that subterranean hideaway, vengeance drove him on and spurred his lofty goals towards an ever closer moment of completion. He was a changed man, feeling scorned and spurned by Latrice’s abrupt departure and successive silence and absence. Gone was the businessman, in his place stood the scientist, Smythe having given over the day to day duties of his façade and public fronts to managers and their ilk, preferring to sequester himself within his compound and furthering his research. The few moments he spared were spent gleaning whatever he could of Latrice from the few less visible methods he could think of to watch her with.

Even with the technology available to those as well funded as he, it was a long while before he managed to catch up with her, and even that was a stroke of serendipitous luck. A traffic camera picked her up in a gentrified neighborhood across town, identified her with a bit of facial recognition software which was still in the experimental stages which he’d appropriated a few short months before. After that it was a simple matter of checking the area, discovering where she’d set up a home and keeping tabs on her without exposing himself in the process. He divided his time between his ever evolving legion and the one responsible for the last’s destruction. Truth be told, though, there were still a number of them shambling about here and there, for he’d designed no way of calling them back, afraid that if he had, sooner or later someone would figure out a way to trigger it and follow the creeping corpse back to Smythe and his lab. He even saw them on occasion, involved in tussles with police and security forces, scattered about town as they clawed their ways out of whatever dark corner they had managed to hide in for so long.

-----------------------------------------------------​

Time isn’t like sand in an hourglass, or like the lapping waters of a river for people like them, Smythe had once told Latrice. It was instead a series of snapshots, frozen glimpses of a specific period and place, piling up as memories until they’re taken out, dusted off and revisited before being relegated to the dark confines of eternity once more. A series of such snapshots passed for Smythe, days bleeding together and melting into weeks which became months and it seemed the rest of eternity would stretch on the same way, no break in the monotony that had grown so uncomfortable yet familiar for him. One day though, while the latest incarnation of his hopeful experiments lay upon the table before him, Smythe reclined in the most comfortable lab chair he had, studying Latrice through a series of pictures taken as she made her way through town. Like the snapshots of memory he spoke of so long ago, every picture was a still life glimpse of a continuing stop-motion story which, when put together, told Smythe that she was headed back towards her old neighborhood. It could only mean one thing, he ventured, that she was headed back to her old home which since her abrupt exodus had lain dormant and cold and still.

Perhaps he was a bit stir crazy, or perhaps it was old feelings resurfacing, or maybe it was the fact that she was returning to her old haunts which dragged up snapshots of their old life together… Whatever the reason, Smythe felt, no, he knew, that he couldn’t simply sit under the harsh unforgiving glare of those fluorescent bulbs any longer; he needed to resurface and more importantly he needed to see her again whether she wished to see him or not. So, trading the crisp white lab coat he wore almost perpetually at that point for a black suit jacket, crimson shirt and black tie, he strode out of his underground bastion and back out into the world of the living once more. Feeling a need for control, he drove himself instead of riding in back, and soon arrived less than a block away from Latrice’s old home. He slipped easily inside and waited for her there. When she arrived a short few minutes later, she didn’t look a thing like herself.

Her outward appearance was the same as it was, but there was something inside of her that was changed; colder and harder, like a great and fragile tree in full blossom which had been caught and frozen solid by a harsh, unexpected winter wind. Her long, flowing tresses were still as lustrous as ever, her ample bosom heaving prettily as she strode through the house, legs pumping furiously as though to churn up the floor boards and soil beneath. He called softly to her, at which she turned and froze, a look of ashen hatred upon her face as she returned the softly spoken query with an acidic retort, sliding quicker than a viper up to him and producing a long blade which grazed along his cheek and drew a long black gash in his pale cheek. He stared coolly into her eyes, taking in the roaring fire that blazed just behind those dark pupils, returning it with a calm, expressionless stare. So, it’s a fight she wants?

He drew his face slowly towards her, deepening the gash she had cut into it as he slid along the icy blade, the cold a mere tingle in the back of his mind, not a scrap of pain penetrating his mind at all as thick black ichor began to dribble and run down his chin and along her weapon. The cane holding hand rose slowly, turning in the air and bringing the end to bear upon the frozen blade caressing his skin, pushing it gently from his face as he continued to stare into her eyes, his own solid, off-white locked on hers as they sparkled brightly in the low light. “Ice, then, if you must. Is this what you came here for, to lure me into some confrontation? Or am I merely an interruption, a hindrance to be dealt with before you may return to your mission proper?” As he spoke he cocked his head to one side questioningly, his gaze showing nothing of the torrent of questions which ran through his mind at that moment. She had made the first move there, and he was content to allow her to play things through her way until her motives became clear or he had reason enough to stop her. Tingling cold ran through him as he pushed her arm slowly down to her side, lowering it forcefully with the cane as though he were setting the spring on a mouse trap and any sudden movement might unloose the catch and send that wicked blade hurtling back up towards his head, only much more quickly.

“Why did you run from me, from us, after that night? Is that what’s brought you back here now? Did you come seeking absolution? If that’s the case you would have been much better off waiting at home. A few more days and you would have obtained it, along with this wretched city and the festering masses you continually show a soft-hearted attachment to.”

 

[Ausus_girl13]

"Why did you run from me, from us, after that night? Is that what’s brought you back here now? Did you come seeking absolution? If that’s the case you would have been much better off waiting at home. A few more days and you would have obtained it, along with this wretched city and the festering masses you continually show a soft-hearted attachment to.”

Ice laughed at him, the soft tinkling falling from her lips, as she looked up at him. She moved her sword back to her side, the ice melting slightly and dripping on the dark wood. She looked up at him then, the blood welling up on his cheek from where she had cut him. She took a minute to stare at him, while she hardened her sword, thickening it, know that it needed to be strong enough for what she was planning. With nothing but acceptance in her eyes, she took a step forward towards Smythe, and quickly swung out. She caught him in the back of the head, the soft spot she knew was there. She let him slump to the ground before her, before she actually breathed. The breath coming out in a long hiss between her teeth.

She kneeled next to him, running her fingers over his back to make sure he was still breathing, when she had confirmed that he was, she sighed slightly. She wondered what to do with him. She didn't have much time, so she threw her sword into the sink, and began to tug her former master down the stairs.

When she had moved in she had created a dungeon space, at the time it had felt right, though she had never used it. The dark paint on the wall, the st. andrew's cross, the spanking bench, all of it had gathered dust until now. She propped him up against the wall, grunting with the effort to hold him there, as she grabbed a nearby set of cuffs and bound to him to the wall, with his hands above his head.

Ice removed Smythe's clothes hanging them up nearby out of habit. She left him then, leaving the room softly lit. She went into the bathroom, and pinched her cheeks and smeared her makeup, she messed her hair up, and pulled on her black leather knee high boots and a short tight black dress. She ran outside to where williams was parked. He rolled down the window, looking up at her, as she crossed her arms, and looked put out.

"He says go home, now. He will call for you in the morning, no reason to wait all night. GO." She left him with no choice and turned on her heel and marched back into the house. She smiled as she heard the engine turn and the wheels move over the cement as Williams pulled away.

Keeping the outfit on she returned to her dungeon, listening to the soft moans of Smythe as he came to. She was preparing herself, and the area for his punishment. She smiled softly to herself as she stepped forward and hooked a collar around Smythe's neck.

When his eyes finally opened, his pale orbs took her in as she sat in front of him, her long legs stretched out in front of her, lightly resting on the chair in front of her, a small smile playing on her lips, in her fingers she twisted a crop. She relished the feel of leather under her fingers, almost giggling with the power she held. She looked at him then, her icy blue eyes flashing as he took in his situation.

"You belong to me now. And the first words out of that mouth of yours better be, Yes Mistress or you shall be gagged."

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe’s eye began to flutter open and his head turned slowly from side to side, taking in the bleary lay of the room about him. As formless shapes and blurs of color began to take on hard outlines and form into recognizable shapes again he blinked his eyes to clear the opaque orbs of the tears forming at the corners. They felt dry and scratchy, as did his throat, and as he tried to clear it he felt a familiar voice drift to him through the ether. It was Latrice’s voice, yet there was a hardness to it, a coldness and an edge which he instantly recognized as the tone of someone in command of the situation. Her words took a few moments to penetrate through the dim haze that still hung about his head, making him feel as though he were wearing a fishbowl on it, but when they did his lips curled into a wide grin. The expression seemed to out of place upon his face and the muscles so atrophied from lack of use that it took him a moment longer to actually form the expression. By the time the smile had set itself properly upon his face the world around him had grown completely recognizable and his countenance swung back to rest upon Latrice.

The first thing he noticed was her altered appearance, which caused a certain stir within him but did nothing to loosen the smile upon his lips. The next was the hard expression upon her face which mirrored the tone in her voice, and the cool passiveness with which she regarded him. The firm set of her jaw and the cold fire in her eyes told him she was totally serious, and the way she fingered the crop told him she meant business. The sight of her twisting the crop in her hands was too much, and for the first time in a long while he managed another long forgotten action, he laughed. The sound of it was sure and loud, a deep mirthful sound that echoed about the room as he threw his head back against the wall behind him and jerked at the restraints that held him bound in an effort to staunch the noise. The laughter finally died after perhaps thirty seconds and he regarded Latrice with tears in his eyes once more, though they were quite different from the last. With a large smile still upon his face and after taking several deep, calming breaths he managed to speak. “Oh my, is that what this is all about? You think that this is honestly enough to break me, force me to succumb to your will like some subservient little whelp and quaver before the awful wrath you threaten to bring down upon me with that?” He gestured towards the crop with a nod of his head. “You can’t possibly imagine the pain I’ve suffered, and I’m sorely tempted to allow you a chance to get in a few good lashes, just to show you how little they would affect me. You could break the skin, flay me to the bone, and nothing would penetrate. The cruel hands of fate which molded me into what I am took those receptors of pain; it was all part of that glorious plan of which I am the remainder, the end product… You may take your shots freely if it will help to relieve some of this tension you are under, I will stand willingly to receive them actually, but…”

Smythe’s features tensed, his lips pressing tightly together as he arched against the restraints, the muscles of his chest and arms tensing as he pulled harder and harder at them. His cool, grey eyes never left Latrice, and they never closed, not even as a loud crack tore through the air, followed by a sickening pop and one arm flew free of the restraint. As he swung about, slightly off balance, the other hand cracked even louder, twice, and finally drew clear of its binding, letting Smythe fall to the floor with a soft thud. When he attempted to raise himself up on his hands they slid from under him, slamming him back to the floor with another sickening sound. He merely chuckled softly to himself and rolled onto his back, then rocked back and forth until he was able to slowly get to his feet without the use of his mangled hands. He turned to face Latrice again, smirking, and attempting to clasp his broken hands together but to no avail. His left thumb’s ball joint bulged ominously and three fingers on his right hand were bent the wrong direction but them no mind, finally settling his arms at his sides and enacting an air of indifference towards the entire scene. “But, as I was saying…” The grin returned, and a slight chuckle with it. “I refuse to be bound, and I absolutely refuse to accept you as mistress. If you wish to exact some revenge upon me for some grievous harm I’ve unknowingly committed against you, then by all means do so, but do not play at wresting away control of something you know so little about. I came here tonight in hopes of communication, and a small part of me honestly believed there might be chance for forgiveness…”

He took a hesitant step forward and inhaled deeply of the cool air, bringing in a wisp of her enticing aroma as well. The anger which had begun to rise within him at the idea of being bound and subjected to her will had been tempered mirthfully by the audacity of it all, and as he looked into her cold, clear eyes, saw the fire still burning so brightly there, he wondered what was running through the mind hidden behind those blazing orbs. His muscles felt tense and weak, as though he’d been bound for some time, and he rolled his shoulders back and forth in an attempt to limber up. As she still hadn’t spoken he took the opportunity to begin once more. “No doubt you sent Williams away, yes? That was a very bad decision, indeed. He is under standing orders which state that if he does not receive a confirmation from me during a situation like this; i.e. you telling him to leave instead of myself, he is to wait exactly one hour and then mobilize a small contingent of mine to affect my swift return. Depending on how long I was under thanks to that rather brilliant blow of yours earlier they may have already returned. They’ll surround us and begin closing in, tightening the noose you might say…” He chuckled softly to himself, arching an eyebrow questioningly before adding one last little line before falling silent, “So would you rather punish an already broken man, or do you intend your own escape?”

 

[Ausus_girl13]

Of fucking course. Of fucking course he set up a safety system with Williams. Latrice hung her head and pinched her nose with her index finger and thumb, closing her eyes in silent protest to his actions. God, she was disgusted with him. She was so tired of taking care of him, dealing with his outbursts, reacting to his needs that she just, she just was disgusted.

It was then that she heard a thump and scrape, and the tell tale moan of a denizen of his horde. She moved quickly from her seat, ignoring him as she slammed the door to the dungeon and barred it. While it was steel and reinforced it wouldn't hold them back for long. She turned to look at her former master, standing there in all his broken glory. She huffed as she moved to his side and slapped him across the face.

"Fuck you, Smythe. You couldn't for once, give to me?
You couldn't just see what happened?
Why do you always have to try and top me?
I am so fucking tired of these games that we play with each other." She stepped close to him, pressing her body against his, even as she ignored the louder groans coming from the stairs, " I loved you, I still love you and for a moment, I carried your child you self serving bastard."

She kissed him then, she didn't really know why. She hated him, she wanted him to pay for her loss, for the loss of them, but didn't know how to make him see it . She pushed him away from her and strode over to the wall. Pressing a button, she opened the door to the escape hatch, which was just access to the storm doors, she looked over her shoulder at Smythe.

"You're welcome to come with me, but I am leaving your sorry ass here if you don't get moving."

She climbed up and out of the cellar dungeon and headed off into the night leaving him to make a choice to follow her again or stay alone, like he already was.

 

[Zom_Dom]

A smug, self-satisfied smile played across Smythe’s face as he watched the tortured emotions run through Latrice. They had known each other long enough he could easily pick out every one of them from the tiny facial tics, automatic responses and shifts in bearing. Even during the time they had been together Latrice had always held fought not to betray her emotions, to keep them hidden away from the world as though ashamed at the mere act of being a feeling being. Smythe of course did not have that problem, as his own emotions had been long deadened; his face almost always frozen into a stony, imperceptible mask. Over the course of their relationship Latrice had started holding her own emotions closer and closer to her chest, turning down her boisterousness in favor of a more blasé business like efficiency. Her eyes, once full of life and vigor slowly lost their luster, though to that day they still remained a striking shade of blue.

Though he couldn’t see them at that moment due to the way she held the bridge of her nose pinched between her fingers, he knew they would remain as striking as ever. Her stance radiated disgust and sullen outrage, but the set of her shoulders showed defeat, which prompted the smile upon his face. He was not ordinarily one for gloating, at least not where she was concerned, but the moment called for it, or at least so it seemed to him from where he stood. For indeed, he had beaten her at her own game, though it was through no fault of her own. Situations like this were the very reason he took precautions like the one he had just revealed to her concerning Williams. As if in answer to the very thought running through his mind, his ears picked up the telltale sounds of his minions attempting to gain entrance to the room. The noise seemed to shake Latrice, force her back to reality, for she stood and strode quickly to the door and then him, and his eyes drank her in, catching every fluid movement of her body and coming to rest upon the two blazing blue orbs which stared right back at him with nothing but venom.

The slap barely even registered, and his gaze never left hers, but the words… The questions didn’t faze him, but the memory of love lost stirred something in his chest. The last sentence hung in the air, though, which suddenly seemed to grow stale and flat, like that of an ancient tomb which hadn’t been opened in a thousand years or more. The smile fell from his lips as Latrice leaned in and brushed them with her own, though whatever warmth might have come from them was lost in the growing cold seeping into the room. The shadows which crept unbidden down from the myriad corners and edges around the room grew and lengthened, or at least so it appeared to Smythe. The entire room could have burst into flame at that moment and he would have been totally nonplussed. He watched as she slowly turned from him and hurried to the only exit not barred by ghouls, and it seemed as though an hour passed before she reached them. Her mouth moved, and he was sure words passed those deep, pillowy lips of hers, but in that instant he couldn’t have been further away. He simply stared at her, a slack expression on his face, until she pushed through the doors and disappeared from view.

The moment she was fully out of his sight time finally righted itself, returning to normal speed. In spite of this the atmosphere around him remained as it had moments before; stale, cold and harsh. The pounding on the other side of the barred metal door had become a din so loud it was impossible to ignore. Smythe attempted a feeble shout, but his voice died in his throat, the breath scratching the back of his throat like sandpaper. With a numb sense of detachment he shambled toward the door, fully aware that to any outside observer he would appear to be just another of the ghoulish hoard on the opposite side, albeit slightly better attired. After several minutes of struggling he managed to undo the bolt and suddenly the door swung wide, affording him a precious half second to fall clear of the entering mass. The wave of bodies spilled into the room like a great horrific tide which threatened to engulf him. Something deep inside of him scoffed at the minions rapidly filling the dungeon, while another wished nothing more than to sic them upon Latrice for doing this to him. Struggling to his feet, he looked around for his cane, finding it a foot away and leaning against the wall. Quickly grabbing it up, he attempted to push his way past the last few stragglers through the underground of the old house until he found the stairway leading up towards the ground level and his escape.

To say that he was in shock was putting it mildly, for though he might not have been able to feel physical pain and his heart was ringed with a stone wall, his broken and battered body was still capable of registering disbelief and a different type of hurt. As he stumbled through the house, leaning heavily on his cane, Smythe knew that he would soon need to have a reckoning, though whether it would be with Latrice or himself he couldn’t say… Fumbling through the front door took what seemed like hours, but when he finally pushed free of the cloying confines of the former home and into the open air once more he felt the smallest flash of triumph within. Latrice’s car was nowhere in sight, no doubt she had already fled, but Williams stood patiently at the door to his own escort, which was parked in the same place as before. Smythe smoothed down his clothing as best he was able and took care to keep his stride as normal as possible, reaching Williams with no great ease and sliding into the promptly opened door to slump down in the back seat. “Home.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but he did not repeat himself, instead leaning his head back against the seat and letting his cane fall from his hand to the floor. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, battering his mind as it raged and whirled, Latrice’s words repeating endlessly in his ears. One thing was clear to him then and there, he would have to find her, and soon, and discover the rest of the details of her story.

 

[Ausus_girl13]

The night air comforted her. She watched from off in the distance as her former residence was overcome with zombies, their moans carrying over the landscape. Latrice sighed and sank into the bushes, she really wanted to set her house on fire, but what if Smythe was stuck in it? He obviously had chosen to stay there. If he didn't care, neither did she. It was with a heavy heart that Latrice stood and made her way back to her house, stopping a short distance away, she found which way the wind was blowing making sure it pointed at her house.

Then she lit some paper on fire, making it look like there had been some careless camping and watched as the flames took hold and spread quickly towards the structure. She stood there dispassionately and watched when those first heated licks over the roof caught and began to spread, it only got worse when the shambling zombies moved around the perimeter and they too caught, but so intent were they on gaining entrance that they only set the house further on fire. When she heard the sounds of tinkling glass as it fell from the windows, only then did her tears fall.

Latrice stayed and watched the house crumble, getting close only when the dying moans of the pandering dead had stopped. She wept. Because like the house, her life, her love, and her baby were in ashes. Everything was dead. And now Smythe was too. She knew it. Whatever part of him that had loved her had died, and now his lifeless ash body was in the basement of the now dead house.

Latrice wept.

The house was cooling in the morning rays when she finally crept in her car that was parked far from the house and drove numbly away. All she could tell herself was.. at least it was over.

Latrice returned to her downtown apartment, not the one she had shared with, with, him. She couldn't even think of his face, and when she looked into the mirror and eyed the frosty diamonds that circled her throat she screamed. Wanting desperately to tear them from her throat. She wanted her collar back. She felt naked, empty, and she relived that night over and over, the night she left him, just abandoned him.

Alone, in the dark, nursing his favorite scotch, she allowed herself to mourn their relationship. To mourn him. In a way that she hadn't before. There were no zombies chasing her. No Smythe for her to challenge. Nothing. There was nothing. She downed the glass savoring the burn in her throat. At least she had the capacity to still feel something, even if it was only for a second. For hours she stared at the wall and said nothing, the only sound in the room was a gradual emptying of Macallan 24.

How long she stayed there she didn't know. When she was ready, she went into the shower and washed the soot and fire from her skin. She washed him from her. She was ready.

Pulling on a suit, she cooled the glass of orange juice in her hand and finished it. She headed down the stairs and out the front door, nodding to her doorman as he called her a cab.

"City Hall." She gave the man behind the wheel directions and headed out into the traffic of the city. She shuddered when every face on the block was his. He would haunt her for the rest of her life. But she didn't have to hide from him anymore. She didn't have to hide anymore. She could make the city safer, and make sure all his remaining zombies were gone. That was her duty. Always. Finish what he started and make sure he knew that she loved him. She would purge the city of his deed and make him a hero. She could do that much for dropping his collar into his lap. The least she could do.

Latrice wiped at an eye with a white kerchief while she stepped from the cab. She squared her shoulders and strode towards the entrance, her pale features and long blonde hair catching the sunlight. People stopped to stare at her. She didn't even notice she was so intent on making things right in their world. Heading straight into the mayor's office Latrice ignored the secretary that tried to stop her, laying a cold hand on the woman which stopped her in her tracks. Stunned she backed away from Latrice.

"Um, go right in."

"Thank you." She burst into the office, all cool, confident, reminding herself that it was for him. And that gave her strength. She explained her plan to the Mayor, who after one look at his speechless and silent secretary, nodded in agreement to all Latrice's plans. It was soon after that the former slave found herself pampered in front of a mirror, prepped and ready. She headed to the microphone with no hesitation.

"Ladies and Gentleman of the press, we are here today to discuss Zombies. Here is what we are going to do."

Latrice was no longer afraid, and she smiled softly into the cameras, aware of all the citizens watching. None of them were him.

 

[Zom_Dom]

Smythe felt cold and dead inside. The world around him assaulted him with input, assailed each of his senses in turn, lights flashing by, the rush of other cars as they passed, the smell of the fine Italian leather, the bitter taste of the stale air and the feel of the seat beneath him. Williams knew the way home, and would get him there safe and sound, but Smythe no longer cared. He viewed the world, when he bothered to open his eyes, through a filter, a foggy haze that clouded his vision like milky cataracts. A word flitted through his mind, and he batted it away. It came back, dancing just at the edge of his mental reach, daring him to bring it closer, to allow it into the forefront… Clenching his eyes tightly shut, he gritted his teeth and whispered, “No…” Still it came at him, rushing at him then dancing away like a prizefighter, until finally he deigned to look at it, to give it the attention it craved. Numb. Growling softly under his breath, he slammed a fist down on the seat beside him, raising nothing more than a soft whoosh of air and a small cloud of dust mites. Without warning, another word rushed up, planting itself squarely before his mind’s eye. Shock.

Smythe had long ago disregarded feelings, at least those he couldn’t use. Rage he could use. Regret he couldn’t. Happiness he’d had some use for, once. Sorrow he didn’t want. Shame was a motivator. Sadness wasn’t. He pushed and shoved at the sensations, cramming them back into their box like some twisted, mixed up Pandora. Hope had nothing to do with it, aside from the brief wish that no one would get to this new adversary before he could… Whoever was responsible for what had happened to Latrice…

***************​

Smythe glowered at the long ream of paper in his hand. The latest tests had not proven favorable and he needed someone or something to take his frustration out on. The last month had been productive, yes, but not as productive as he would have liked. The next wave was still not ready for the field, and his reserve stock had been drying up; Latrice had seen to that nicely. He’d been rather shocked to see her face appearing in the news lately; the first time anyway. She’d been in the spotlight since the beginning of her little ‘campaign,’ and had been seemingly everywhere with it of late. It was getting so he couldn’t even do a little field testing without her or someone she’d trained showing up and threatening to spoil the entire thing.

She’d also seemed to have dropped off the map when not in the public eye. He’d been hard pressed trying to find her since that fateful night, and it seemed no matter how many different times or ways he tried to find her, he simply couldn’t. That was frustrating him as well, and he was considering going out with the next batch in hopes of finding her that way. The detective he’d hired hadn’t turned anything up. The connection to the police’s computer network hadn’t either. He was almost getting to the point of… No, he wouldn’t let himself even think it. He was not, and would never be, desperate. Smythe was many things; a monster, a bastard, a ruthless and cruel man at times, but no matter how low he might feel, he would never be… He shuddered and threw the papers aside, cursing under his breath.

That’s all there was to it, then. He’d simply have to go out on the next field test, scheduled for a few days hence… If he ran into her, it would be worth it, even if the latest batch could barely shamble, let alone run. That would be fixed soon enough, he knew, when he’d figured out the proper mix of chemical stimulants and mechanical modifications. They would run as gracefully as gazelles on the prairie, leaping and bounding through the city streets as they terrorized the populace and rained down destruction. He’d bring them up through the sewers this time, in the industrial area down by the river… Let them run around the docks for the night, smashing shipping containers and such while he took readings and notes. If Latrice showed, he didn’t know what he’d say to her, but he’d figure out something. He still had a few days to plan, after all.

Turning from the banks of flashing screens and softly humming hardware, he strode through the darkness that was the rest of the lab, a dark scowl on his face. It had taken up residence there when the numbness had finally worn off, and seemed irremovable, dedicated to remaining there until something went right in his life for once. It would reside there forever more, he knew, as he’d given up the one good thing in his life a long time ago. No, he thought, she left me… Hollow footsteps echoed down the corridor as he padded along it, his heels clicking against the cool concrete floor. Drawing up before a small, unassuming wood door, he reached out and brushed his hand along the wood, fingertips tracing the pattern of the grain. The scowl flickered ever so slightly as he reached the doorknob, hesitating, but returned in full force as he turned smartly on his heel and made his way to the elevator. The small oak door diminished slowly behind him, and if he’d turned to look over his shoulder he would barely have seen it in the dim light of the corridor, though its features were plainly etched in his mind like a carving chiseled into stone, an image that would remain with him always now. Stabbing at the call button for the elevator, he snarled under his breath and shut his eyes.