"Call Carpenter. We need Molly to meet us at the safe house."
Gard groaned and sat up, pressing against the cool leather of the seats to steady herself.
"Why do we need the girl?" Murphy, Marcone's cellphone half-raised to her ear, turned and frowned at Gard.
"Tracking spell. I've been taking a little bit of Harry's hair every day, just in case he got away from us."
Gard snorted and reached for the small plastic baggy on Murphy's lap.
"Don't call her. I can do a tracking spell."
"Are you certain you're up to it?" Marcone turned from the passenger seat to look her over.
"I'm certain no two-bit warlock has enough power to take me out for long. I can do a tracking spell. Everything I need is at the safe house." Marcone nodded, and held out his hand for his phone.
~
"You have an army." Murphy settled her shoulders against the wall of the van, glaring across the space at Marcone. He checked yet another knife, at least the tenth that she'd counted in his hands and slid it into a sheath on his vest.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sergeant." He met her eyes, smiling. "At best it's half an army. And some of them are loaners." Marcone nodded his head at the rather large men to either side of them.
"Part of your deal with Monoc?" He inclined his head.
"Just so. Extra talent for certain situations." Marcone looked out the windshield. "I've yet to regret having more firepower at need."
"We're here." Hendricks rumbled at them from the front as the van came to a stop.
They all scrambled out in precise, ordered movements and as soon as Marcone hopped down from the back of the van a tall, blond man trotted over to him, doffing the black helmet he wore. He handed Marcone a rifle.
"Sir. We're moving men into position, there and there." He pointed. "Ms. Gard indicated they're in this warehouse here." He gestured to a smaller warehouse two down from the alley they'd stopped in. "We'll be ready to move in-"
A scream cut through the air. High and thin, a child's scream.
~
The pain didn't stop. It grew, worse and worse, fire and knives all through his body. The thing above him laughed, misty hands reaching out and grabbing his head. Harry could feel the fingers press against his skin, and then inside, sliding into his brain and digging in.
He thrashed, tasted blood in his mouth. He coughed on it, the sharp copper taste dripping down his throat and then he stopped feeling it.
The pain was still there, but it was removed from him. Harry knew that his body was going still, not fighting any more as a feeling of prickling cold settled in. The thing wasn't just seeping into his mind. He could feel it pressing down against his whole body, beginning to merge with him.
He watched, still trying to scream, but he'd lost control of his own voice, through his own eyes as something else turned his head toward where Kumori and the man stood outside the circle.
Harry felt his mouth move, words formed with his lips and his tongue, but not from his mind and the thing used him to speak. He tried to get control back, to focus. He reached for the pain, to hold on to it as something real, and felt it all flood back into him. Harry clung to the pain, to the slicing knives in his stomach and felt the cold thing inside him shift, reaching for control again.
He fought back, his eyes still open, still trained on Kumori. His desperate grip on himself started to slip, losing ground and he felt despair clench around his heart. He wasn't strong enough.
Kumori staggered, her hands falling from above her head. Something slick and dark stained one shoulder of her robe, flowing down, a thin trickle at first and then faster as she staggered and pressed one hand to the spot.
Harry's tenuous grip on himself failed, and the thing surged forward, taking control. The last thing he saw before he was pushed back, away, was the man turned his head to look at Kumori, face twisting in anger as he saw her fall to one knee.
A scream cut through the air. High and thin, a child's scream.
Cue pissed off!Marcone(actually make that pissed off!about EVERYONE.). Hell is coming and it ain't going to be pleasant. ...then again, when IS it pleasant?
ohgodohgodohgod. The thing has control, GAAHAHHHH!!!!!! D:
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: 13/? scrappy!Harry prompt
Date: 2011-03-21 04:01 pm (UTC)Gard groaned and sat up, pressing against the cool leather of the seats to steady herself.
"Why do we need the girl?" Murphy, Marcone's cellphone half-raised to her ear, turned and frowned at Gard.
"Tracking spell. I've been taking a little bit of Harry's hair every day, just in case he got away from us."
Gard snorted and reached for the small plastic baggy on Murphy's lap.
"Don't call her. I can do a tracking spell."
"Are you certain you're up to it?" Marcone turned from the passenger seat to look her over.
"I'm certain no two-bit warlock has enough power to take me out for long. I can do a tracking spell. Everything I need is at the safe house." Marcone nodded, and held out his hand for his phone.
~
"You have an army." Murphy settled her shoulders against the wall of the van, glaring across the space at Marcone. He checked yet another knife, at least the tenth that she'd counted in his hands and slid it into a sheath on his vest.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sergeant." He met her eyes, smiling. "At best it's half an army. And some of them are loaners." Marcone nodded his head at the rather large men to either side of them.
"Part of your deal with Monoc?" He inclined his head.
"Just so. Extra talent for certain situations." Marcone looked out the windshield. "I've yet to regret having more firepower at need."
"We're here." Hendricks rumbled at them from the front as the van came to a stop.
They all scrambled out in precise, ordered movements and as soon as Marcone hopped down from the back of the van a tall, blond man trotted over to him, doffing the black helmet he wore. He handed Marcone a rifle.
"Sir. We're moving men into position, there and there." He pointed. "Ms. Gard indicated they're in this warehouse here." He gestured to a smaller warehouse two down from the alley they'd stopped in. "We'll be ready to move in-"
A scream cut through the air. High and thin, a child's scream.
~
The pain didn't stop. It grew, worse and worse, fire and knives all through his body. The thing above him laughed, misty hands reaching out and grabbing his head. Harry could feel the fingers press against his skin, and then inside, sliding into his brain and digging in.
He thrashed, tasted blood in his mouth. He coughed on it, the sharp copper taste dripping down his throat and then he stopped feeling it.
The pain was still there, but it was removed from him. Harry knew that his body was going still, not fighting any more as a feeling of prickling cold settled in. The thing wasn't just seeping into his mind. He could feel it pressing down against his whole body, beginning to merge with him.
He watched, still trying to scream, but he'd lost control of his own voice, through his own eyes as something else turned his head toward where Kumori and the man stood outside the circle.
Harry felt his mouth move, words formed with his lips and his tongue, but not from his mind and the thing used him to speak. He tried to get control back, to focus. He reached for the pain, to hold on to it as something real, and felt it all flood back into him. Harry clung to the pain, to the slicing knives in his stomach and felt the cold thing inside him shift, reaching for control again.
He fought back, his eyes still open, still trained on Kumori. His desperate grip on himself started to slip, losing ground and he felt despair clench around his heart. He wasn't strong enough.
Kumori staggered, her hands falling from above her head. Something slick and dark stained one shoulder of her robe, flowing down, a thin trickle at first and then faster as she staggered and pressed one hand to the spot.
Harry's tenuous grip on himself failed, and the thing surged forward, taking control. The last thing he saw before he was pushed back, away, was the man turned his head to look at Kumori, face twisting in anger as he saw her fall to one knee.
Re: Fill: 13/? scrappy!Harry prompt
Date: 2011-03-21 04:16 pm (UTC)Cue pissed off!Marcone(actually make that pissed off!about EVERYONE.). Hell is coming and it ain't going to be pleasant. ...then again, when IS it pleasant?
ohgodohgodohgod. The thing has control, GAAHAHHHH!!!!!! D:
Re: Fill: 13/? scrappy!Harry prompt
Date: 2011-03-21 06:11 pm (UTC)Re: Fill: 13/? scrappy!Harry prompt
Date: 2011-03-21 06:51 pm (UTC)I forgot that they would already been pissed.
They just got more pissed off.