Treat You Better (Humanity)

Rapitit-tat0tt0tip-tat-ta-tap. The keys were slinging and slapping away, the clatter and clicking in quick succession as the fingers clashed with the plastic keys. Each crash, each stroke generating letters, those letters forming together as word. The words were perfectly spelled and there were absolutely no errors in his typing. He's typing was prefect and nessesary so shudup newbs. No in all honesty his typing was horrendous. Auto correction programs were a true blessing when on anything except his phone. On his phone and he believed that it was simply his phone designer's indirect will to screw him up at every turn.

    "You're still here?" A voice came behind him as they emerged from the shadows. Out of uniform they appeared to be nothing special, a rather bland young man with his arm in a navy blue medical sling, wrapped around his neck. Matthew did not answer, though his little protégé knew better than to expect one. Questions with obvious answers need no response. Though John noted the fast typing and the obvious presence of his mentor, he simply shrugged it off as he wandered throughout the room, snagging a drink from the little miniature fridge. "Well, it's not as if we have anything to be running from....and I think this place is much nicer than the old Pennsylvania safe house." The silence still took over the room, making John uncomfortable.

  The silence itself was bearable, but to see Matthew so focused, so zoned in... that was truly the most unnerving thing John had ever seen. He was unblinking, like a sociopathic man staring at static. His breathing was faint, in fact he had almost thought Matthew to not be breathing at all, his level of focus so honed in.

  "I would love to know where you get all these safe houses....like...Really love..." John said as he looked over his soda to Humanity, seeing his focus completely unshaken. "Oh Christ Matt c'mon. Let it go. She left. She's gone. No need to look for her. Trouble has a way of finding you anyway. She'll end up on your doorstep again."

   "I need to set the record straight, if nothing else. Besides... if I'm on her bad side... Life is going to get much worse for us..." He said as his mind flashed, the events just after she had departed in the moonlight replaying in his mind.



   "I'm not in love with her. But I do love her. The way I love...the way I loved everyone. Because when I look at her I see a chance. I see a situation that I know all too well. Powerlessness. A façade we put on to fool everyone...even ourselves. It's a coping mechanism." He said, moving to a more factual argument as he navigated away from his "feelings". This relationship he had with John was nothing more than a passing of knowledge. No matter what John wanted it to be, Matthew was not his brother. He was not his friend. They couldn't afford to be anything more than a student and a teacher. It would cloud their judgement and muddle priorities.

 "Yes, because you're coping so well by running out and doing this."

 "Because this isn't coping. It's Retribution." Humanity said quickly, a small snap in his voice, betraying his usual calm demeanor. His fingers still tapped upon the keys, realizing what he had been told earlier by his "Captors". His mind began to replay the events, but all he had focused on was the threat that was left.

 "We will remove every tie."

    The whisper in his ear clear as day. He had no reason to deny Thrones their offer. Personal desires be damned.

  Humanity stood up and walked over to the closet, pulling out his suit and a few materials he would need. Materials being the Jester's Bite, The King's Scepter, his grappling gauntlet and everything else he'd need. This particular trip, however, he even brought an antidote to his fear toxin. Never knowing what he might encounter....

  the nights were far more dangerous.

    "So you're going solo on this one. You sure about that?" John asked before receiving a strong silence from Matthew, whom forced his mask into a bag and seemed to freeze, contemplating his apprentice's words.

  "Fine. Get your suit...and dress up. The father you hate so much is our ticket in." He said as he tossed a card at John, the card was addressed to John's father.

 "Wha-wai-... Bitch you go through our mail!?"

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     Gowns and galas were nothing Humanity was adverse too, though all he knew of them were the fragments of lives prior and what his mother  had taken him to in his youth. He could waltz, he could tango, but he had absolutely nothing on a river or tap. His suit was not a traditional one in the slightest. Of course he stepped out of the car sporting a black overcoat with what appeared to be a fuzzy looking purple vest beneath it, a matching bright plum colored ascot around his neck, contrasting against the white button down shirt beneath his vest, and an emerald pin surrounded by gold and diamonds pinned to the center of the ascot's knot. It was a rather strange fashion statement to be made, though many people would simply see him as an "old-styled fashionable. Despite it being night he walked with thin rimmed sunglasses upon his face, his upper lip adorned with two small slivers of black hair in almost perfectly cut and trimmed tapered off to a slight tip at the ends. He retained and slightly trimmed up the soul patch area it would seem as well. He definitely had a more sophisticated vibe as he walked through the doors.

  Masking his odor he was wearing a nice blend of Clive Christian's finest and tapered off with his clothing having been sprayed for hours with cherry blossom and peach... an odor a little friend had suggested earlier. It could be seen quite clearly that this was a man with expensive tastes. He managed to slip through the crowds and slipped by, making his anonymous donation, writing down the seat he would be sitting at and the name they were to use. But now it was a matter of "acquiring" that seat.

   Finding the particular guest that would be preoccupying that seat, Matthew started conversation, speaking and laughing with the man and talking about particular smart investments when it came to this charity, as if it were simply a political move and a tax write-off. The man disgusted Matthew, but he still smiled and agreed with him, not a beat missed. Eventually he had offered to grab the man a drink and slipped a little something into it. Unfortunately he did not intend to murder the man... though he contemplated it. No the man would simply find himself very sleepy very shortly, and retire himself.

    It wasn't long before Humanity had noticed her sitting by her lonesome. Of course there were other people in the room, but she was the only one that mattered. There was a part of doing this that made Matthew realize that he hadn't ever done anything like this before. going to such great lengths to throw off a creature meant to identify, a creature meant to hunt....but somehow doing so in such a subtly that they couldn't guess that he was hiding from them.

    Chandeliers adorning the ceiling, diamonds and refractive lights shining everywhere. The ceiling itself had real diamonds embedded into the ceiling, where the mural depicted stars, allowing the light to naturally seem even brighter and more pure in those areas. It was a modern marvel. Well, it was to a man who chose to live in a shack. Actually it occurred to him that he spent more on this woman tonight, for a small surprise than he had on his fake life.

  "Bitch is bleeding me dry... well....literally I guess." He said, chuckling to himself as he stayed off in the distance, around louder people. He actually and genuinely laughed a little at his own joke. He'd never have let anyone he knew see that, he tended to act like he hated puns and jokes altogether.

  Navigating throughout the room he managed to tag John, who was there with his father, the telekinetic businessman by day and hero by night type. With a note, Humanity made his move, circling around the table and walking up ever so causally. As he approached the table he pulled the chair out.

  "Pardon me, Madame. It seems as though my seat has been moved here. I do hope that won't be of trouble." He said as he placed an accent on his voice, changing the pitch. He even used Vaseline earlier to help him change his voice. He only had to fool her for a damned second as John had paid a man to come over and take Humanity's jacket for him. matthew shead the jacket to reveal that his purple vest was truly a rather victorian styled smoking jacket, removing his ascot and the emerald pin to reveal a black bowtie. The unique catch was the subtle touch that had been made on the center of the bowtie. If one were to look closely one could see a pin, very similar to the one he had on the ascot. The difference that was quite apparent, however, was the rubies that had been added with blackened obsidian stich markings. The obsidian stitch markings ran cross the small hear-shaped ruby placements, adorned with small emerald backgrounds and a golden crown across the top.

 
 He sat down and cleared his throat as he looked across the room as he removed his sunglasses and peered through a hazel contact to observe the room, finally looking to Chelle with a slight smile.

  "You see, now here I thought Elisabetta was dead, but I see now that you must have bitten her, now didn't you? Enslaving her to be your tailor immortal. I say; good show young girl, good show." He said, playing up the accent a little bit, almost mockingly before giving a genuine chuckle and taking a drink of the glass in front of him.

Matthew had realized the look on her face and couldn't help but go slack jawed as she said his name in perhaps the most confusing way he had ever heard it. No, seriously was she happy with him? Mad at him? Honestly it looked like both but then she reached out to touch him, as if to see if he was real. To this he just raised an eyebrow before thinking to himself Uh, yeah. I'm here. Not dead. Completely real....bitch gitcho hand away fru- Wai- bitch don't chu touch mah face. of course the latter thoughts being primarily just a little side note to himself...in a very racist ghetto voice in his own mind. She withdrew and seemed to shy away from him for a moment before sighing. She made a specific point to note that she thought she knew how he found her. This made him smile in an almost arrogant way, the left side of his mouth rising as the rest remained slanted as a smirk.

  "I have my ways." He left it. He actually went to his phone and pulled up a picture. This picture perfectly described the sound behind Chelle's voice when she said his name. She brought up the dress designer as he looked up from his phone quickly and watched her stand and spin, causing him to chuckle. She obviously took pride in being dressed like a princess; or a Queen. He immediately put his phone away and took another sip of the small glass in front of him.

  "The good old days... so. I can't very well marry I woman I don't know anything about. Other than a name, her work number and her impeccable sense of style." He said as he too a sip, his eyes darting around the entire room, trying to take in little details as he kept constant vigilance. There weren't many things that escape him when he was "working" but despite his odd paranoia he managed to keep himself relaxed enough to not look out of place. "So I'll start, how I so love the awkward phases, what's your color? I'd wager, though I'm not the type."

Well the woman had a sense of humor and the woman most certainly had style, but Humanity was incredibly shocked to watch the woman cross her legs and then reveal she hat quite possible the biggest balls he had ever seen. Metaphorically, however he hadn't actually seen anything. He wasn't actually looking, maybe she did have literal balls. The woman was a vampire angel, nothing would surprise him at this rate. He listened as she told him of her favorite color, something he could partially expect of the woman, then she did something boring like state he needed to tell her hers. What wasn't boring, and the reason he found her to be so incredibly interesting is that she asked what it was that made him sane. In the hustle and bustle of the room around them he had lost himself for a moment as he seemed to reflect upon how to answer her.

"Hah...well..." He said as he cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. He could feel the muscles in his back relaxing, the relaxation allowing the blood and the pain in his back to release some as he smiled slightly, looking to his glass as he began moving it in circular rotations. He'd watch the liquid crash against the glass before looking to the table itself with an almost blank expression; that would only last a moment however. "I abandoned my....I uh. I'm an incredibly wealthy young man that decides to live worse than trailer trash. He gets a job he's overqualified for all so he can feed his obsessive desire to cosplay every night as he runs through the streets like a bad comic rip-off. Then he takes in a physically crippled Asian kid to be is apprentice, and he spends his evenings tracking down and having mysterious dinner dates with a vampire-angel. I also in my spare time feed the homeless and help organize religious youth services." After that long mouthful he took a sip form his glass and let out a refreshed sigh as he looked to the Queen and smiled.

"What about that sounds so insane?" He asked as he chuckled to himself. It only took a moment for him to nervously clear his throat once more, trying to take a social handle of the conversation and steer it back to the correct direction. Or rather, the direction he could be more socially suave in navigating. "Emerald green and Amethyst purple. Those two together. In that order." He said as he brought the glass to his mouth again, taking in the rest of his drink down the hatch before shifting.

"So I can guess you're the kind of girl who likes her leather, but how do you feel about all...this?" He asked, moving his hand about to signal that he was talking about all of the formality, the posh, prim and proper. It may not have seemed real interesting, but it was what he truly wanted to know at this moment in time.

She had countered at him with dancing, so it would seem she lived for this. She said so herself, after all. He looked up at the woman. She smiled and seemed to genuinely want to dance. The appeal for dancing was not anything at all that Matthew understood. He was a little too old school in that regard, though he was willing to dance with the woman. He gave her a look almost as if he were contemplating saying no, or arguing, but he just smirked and pushed himself up. "Of course. Truly, I'm a sick, sick man. To forget that." he hummed to himself as he walked with her out to the dance floor.

"I wasn't lying when I said I was terrible at this, mind you. But I suppose I'd be willing to try." He said simply, trying to prevent the woman from getting her hopes up for an overly miraculous dance or anything that one might find on the silver screen. The woman had made mention of the fact she used to have ten handmaidens to assist her with dressing in the morning. That seemed quite excessive to be honest, she would have had to have been the size of a small elephant to require so much help. Matthew had been a bigger kid in his youth, after his thirteenth year. He was a literal fat ass alpha dragon for a good three years before he managed to shed his weight again. He promised himself he'd never go back to being that heavy again. Had a small hiccup as his lung took a fatal turn, but he managed to fix it as he recovered.

"Only a thousand? With these memories I almost feel like a cradle robber." He made the off mention to himself, not really talking directly to Chelle. Of course he had momentarily forgotten her superhuman sensory would factor into the equation. He offered a slight chuckle to make it seem as if it had been sheer sarcasm. "Well, riddle me this. So full of vitality and so well kept... yet you are so sadly alone. You feel alone, you look alone and worst pf all...you are alone. My question is "why?"..." He gave the Queen a small tug as he raised his arm, allowing her to pass through It seemed as though a traditional waltz had thankfully been in the mood. It was one of the few dances Matthew knew, courtesy of his mother.

"I suppose that's true. I should see the doctor." He said off-handedly about the comment about him not inviting the queen of Thrones to dance with him. Though truthfully he had enough of dancing the last time they had met...though he honestly enjoyed the last time they tried to dance and he cut it short. It still amused him, sadly.

"Narcissistic and intimidating. You're a beautiful woman so those go hand in hand. As far as you being abominable; I can safely say that the only thing abominable about you is your taste in company..." He said, excusing himself back towards his chair, though he did not sit. He instead took a new glass and stood with his hand on the back of his chair. "I'm here, after all." he said with a smirk and a small rise of the glass before taking a healthy portion of the glass as a "sip". With a refreshed and slightly aggressive sigh he looked out cross the ballroom, his mind running through every possible scenario he could think of. How impossible it had become....

"But being lonely does that to you, doesn't it? Makes you less picky about who you spend your time with. Makes you start to...look at others as the way you want to see them. Not as they are. Makes you want to help them; Save them even when you can't." His words were half-hearted but he spoke the truth as it came to mind. In all of his training, in all of his endeavors throughout all the times he could remember. Of all the things he could never conquer there was but one. There was one fear he could never best, one fear that claimed his heart more tightly than any other force before. "Someone whose part of my family...." He jokingly replied to her comment about who doesn't get to be feeling lonely after a short time. She had made her way from the floor and the concept of breathing into the glass caused a mist to fog up the glass.

"Well, your highness... I suppose there's a similarity we share. The ones we care for go missing....vanish. Gone in one sense or the other." He said as he took his seat in his chair and seemed to scan the area quickly before proceeding to talk once more. "So I suppose that's who we should drink to then?" He asked, looking to his glass, almost disappointed it was half empty already. Unfortunately God hated him, he was born with a natural inability to get drunk. Suffered all the side effects, but lacked all the fun times. Though drinking for sheer taste still tended to get him into a small trouble every now and again.

She cast her gaze downward at the mention of him being horrible company to be kept.

He was so down on himself. It made her feel bad about it, but she also knew that she could never control how people would treat themselves. So, she would just have to treat him better than that.

"Yes, you are here." She said, her words coming out slow and soft, her eyes gazing through thick lashes as she caught his own eyes.

She had always been alone. Even when she was tied into a marriage. They were always gone, leaving her be. She was just too independent. It was likely the reason she ended up remarrying so many times in the first place... her lack if social interaction... her need for the romance, despite it always decaying and becoming nothing more than old photos in dusty boxes covered in cobwebs and bad memories.

"I don't see you running from me," she said, rebuttal to his comment on picky company. She let a smile crease her eyes as she took another swig of her champagne, her lip color leaving a soft stain on the rim of the glass.

Trailing off, she crossed her legs the opposite way and shifted her glass toward his.

"Then a cheers to the lost, lonely souls." She moved her glass into his, a soft clink being made as the crystal touched each other.

She then downed the contents of her glass and set it down, looking off into the crowd.

"I lost my son. Nearly a century ago. It was his birthday... Rumor has it he died peacefully... but something tells me he was tortured." Actual tears welled in her eyes as she reached into her clasp purse and pulled out an old black and white photo of a young man. He looked like the more masculine version of herself. Almost a clone.

It was no doubt he was her son. The reverse side of the picture read 'Malus Annavianna, September 18XX.' In his clutch was a very memorable blade - Excalibur. But, Chelle doubted Matthew would actually know that it was indeed the real blade.

Malus had vanished with it, and she had no idea where the two of them were. And she needed to find the blade to finish her deal with Samhain. To get it over with.

"Pack mentality, I assure you." He said with a small smirk as he shot a glance at her, his eyes falling back over the atmosphere, the people dancing still on the floor and others talking and enjoying themselves. This was a rather formal event, he used to love these things. He used to love being able to get dressed up, to look his best and go out there and mingle. It was a simpler time, that much was certain. His eyes came back as she had offered the toast to the lost and lonely souls.

"What a funny way of saying "us"." He chuckled as the little clack of the class rang out. He brought the glass up and took a sip, though the sip was a little more than it probably should have been. His mind recoiled and he just about spit the liquid out, though forced himself to swallow. Hopefully the paranoia would subside. In social settings it kicked up into top gear. Though the voice of current company shattered through his mental walls and snagged his attention immediately. Like a dog hearing it's name he looked over to see that the woman had produced a photograph of a young man with a blade.

There had been a little less to take in through her revelation that she had a child. Had was the keyword in that sentence of course. Apparently the young man had met his demise, in a way that the woman believed that he had been made to suffer. That was a tragic fate, to suffer before death. He actually knew that from a first hand perspective. Though he looked to the blade held in the hand of the young man, and instantly his head began to hurt.



Matthew's head began to throb for a moment as he immediately had forgotten what he was going to say. His thoughts so jumbled, so thrown about. there had been nothing he could do to set them straight. What was he doing? His mind went blank for a moment, remembering very little. It was all he could do to formulate a response to the woman dwelling over the picture. The back of the Delete repeated word stated young man's name. Malus At- the rest had been cut off, and something he didn't particularly care to observe.

"No parent should ever have to outlive their child. Ever..." He said with a sigh. He couldn't help but notice the resemblance between the woman and her offspring. He actually might have confused them for dizygotic twins had he not been properly prompted on the figure being her child. "How did he-... Uh well how do you remember him best?" Humanity asked as he felt an unnatural chill down his back, his eyes shifting about. Always watching. Always wary, but trying to be compassionate. As best as he could. But just as he failed at being Humanity recently...he also failed at that. He should have been more attentive. His mind shouldn't have been so fragmented or random. But all he could do for now is try and settle this. To help her lay her demons to rest.

Well for the first time someone managed to grapple his attention in a story to the degree that he didn't even care about his two left feet. He just listened patiently, trying to hear out what she was saying, not even letting her in on the fact he knew exactly how this felt. To have a little boy grow up, and his life stolen away by some foul stain upon the tapistrey of mankind. To hear that this woman had a child, of which she was inseparable made him wonder. It made him envious, jealous of her to say the least. Dare he to say part of him despised her for it. Truthfully that was likely just the person he was talking, the person before Yamm, before Humanity. He even coined a small phrase for it. "It's just the flesh talking."

This woman had everything that he would have asked for. A child, someone to keep him from being alone. Someone he didn't need to hide from, someone he could actually guide and someone that actually needed him. But isn't that what we all boil down to? Being loved. Being needed. Isn't that a primal instinct in which all humans strive for? But then the revelation donned on him. The feeling was like butterflies in the stomach, but the wrenching of your heart. It was conflicting, to say the least. Nervousness and nausiousness mixed together, reluctance and negligence. This wasn't a woman. This wasn't a human. This was an angel-vempire-demon-diva-monster thing. But at it's most basic form. It, no... she was human.

and he could relate to her...

But what could he say? There's nothing to say. He couldn't tell her about his time as Yamm, or the Primal Chaos' memories. He couldn't say anything at all. Because anything he said would pale in comparison to her loss. Not because they haven't lost the same...but because the loss of another could never truly resonate with the loss that one experiences themselves. Matthew heard her words. He couldn't condone the murder of a husband who walked out, but to be honest he wouldn't split hairs or nit-pick here. He was already overlooking everything as it was; it wouldn't hurt to keep a blind eye turned.

Suddenly she backed away and had a small aura of hesitation, reluctance or fear. She tried to excuse herself and began towards the nearest exit, but not before stopping back to grab her little bag. Matthew stopped and looked around before noticing John looking at a nearby table. Matthew sighed and shrugged before making a small motion with two fingers, a captains salute if you will as he handed off the operation and calmly hurried off to try and chase after the woman. Talking the nearest exit he stopped to look around for the woman.

"Hey, wait. What's wrong?" He asked before reaching for his knife, wondering if she had seen a threat to her life. The instinct wasn't one he understood, but it was a natural reaction. But alas he only found that his knife wasn't there, remembering the Eldritch abomination's theft of the weapon. "I can't help you if you don't tell me how." He called out after her, watching her as she continued on, though he hoped she would stop. He wasn't sure why. He didn't want her to go off alone again. Not if she didn't have to.