Rain

Lyra got up and then sat on her knees behind Sheryll. She began to message her back. "God your either really tense or you got metal in your back." Joked Lyra putting a bit more pressure. "Remember how i said four years back i came here against my will? it's actually 8 but the past four years i've been free. I picked up how to message people in the four years before hand so excuse me if i'm a bit rusty at it." She looked over at Tom. "I don't get gambling, especially if your low on cash, so why do it?" said Lyra. "You also have to be careful about who you gamble with and where. i doubt the criminal underworld would be for giving if you accidentally got caught up with them."

"Thank you for your generous offer, ma'am, but I've slept on couches and floors before." The Irishman said with a slight smile. Thomas took a sip of his coffee and searched with his free hand in one of the pockets of his pants. As he put down the cup, he retrieved a pack of loose tobacco. It was a little damp, but still smokable. He took out the paper, some shag, make a nice roll, rolled the sig shut, licked the line, sealed the deal. "But on the gambling thing, yeah...well, sometimes you win some, sometimes you lose some, right. I've been losing most of my life, so my standards are pretty low. Keeps me from being dissapointed." He said and he looked at his kind hostess while he launched the sigaret in his hand with a flip, catching it with his lips. "Can I smoke on your balcony, or do I have to take the elevator down?"

Sheryll continued smiling but repressed at a laugh at Lyra's comment, she had no idea how close the truth she was. The massage felt good, even though Lyra claimed she hadn't practiced in a while it felt heavenly to just have done at all, let alone by such soft hands. She looked over at Thomas as he explained his penchant for gambling and other financially suicidal past times.

The man was grungy and looked like belonged in a coal mine but he was far from gruff or disrespectful. If anything, he seemed like the perfect immigrant, that is to say: someone who was just happy to be in America at all. It had been a while since Sheryll had met anyone who seemed so sincerely grateful just to be alive. She watched as he effortlessly rolled and flipped a home made cigarette into his mouth. Sheryll clapped, extremely impressed at his show of dexterity. The smile on her face grew even more.

What had started out at as a dreary and unpleasant day had quickly turned into a day of discovery and good company. After a moment the man asked if he could use her balcony to smoke or if he had to go back down.

Sheryll just laughed. "Of course you can use my balcony, just try and stay under the overhang so you don't get wet again" she chimed before looking back at Lyra.

"You're really very good at this you know" she said cheerfully before looking back down. She thought on how sore her back was too, the scars from her father's disappointment still very visible. She was wearing a thick sweater to hide them and while she was sure that no one would notice, it didn't make them ache any less. She had tried to hide them but her father had paraded her half naked form through the Dominus compound, her suffering a harsh reminder of the price of failure in his organization. Sheryll's head was beginning to hurt, a migraine developed from too much coffee and sweets without any real food for the past two days.

She had been trying to avoid sleeping, as -ever since her father's beating- she had been having nightmares about what would happen should she fail again. She was -in her father's words- meant to be the perfect weapon against supers, an unstoppable juggernaut on the battlefield... and yet she had lost because she had allowed her personal feelings to determine her course of action.
While the consequences from the act itself were few, what it represented was the thing that had earned her her father's wrath. Normally he wasn't bad, he was kind and gentle and praised her, but ever since she had failed, it had been much harder for her to please him. The thought that he might hate her now caused her extreme sadness, almost bordering on depression. Sheryll sighed and tried to shake the thoughts out of her mind.

Once more she looked back at Lyra and said "So what do you mean you weren't free? Were your parents overbearing or something?"

"Thanks." said Lyra, it was nice to be complemented. Tom went outside to smoke, another habit she didn't quite get, but he seemed like a nice guy over all. Lyra and Sheryll were quite for a few minutes. Lyra guessed that Sheryll was thinking about something. However when she resumed talking she asked about what she said earlier. "God... I wish it was that..." sighed Lyra. She trusted Sheryll enough, besides what happened was in the past so may as well share it. "As you can probably tell from my accent i'm not from here, i'm from the south, North Carolina to be exact. Eight years ago I had a fight with my parents and i ran to the closest city just to get away from them. I don't know where it when wrong, maybe i turned down the wrong alley or something but i was kidnapped. By the time I woke up I was in a large metal shipping container with a bunch of other girls. Later I learned that there was apparently a sex trafficking organization and that was who kidnapped me. They also learned that I had special talents so they put that to use. For four years that was my life, being whored out to the highest bidder for the night or or however long they paid for. It's also where i picked up some other skills based off what clients liked, like messages and such. It wasn't till an undercover cop who had disguised herself as one of us did the police force have what they needed to shut down the operation."

Lyra took a minute to herself, it was the first time she had talked about that in a while and it still stirred up some powerful emotions. She teared up a bit. She wiped away the tears she had also just has fast as they appeared. "Sorry..." said Lyra, her throat feeling a bit tight. "It has been awhile since i talked about it, it still stirs up some powerful memories... it was the scariest time of my life and I do my best to try and forget it. But i still have nightmares about it from time to time. It's one of those things that follow you, no matter how long ago it was. But anyway, I've just been trying to make a living for the past four years, I was able to get my G.E.D. and Ive been working odd jobs to get the bills paid. It's been hard but I've been able to work through it all."

Meanwhile, on the balcony! The rain has stopped for a moment, so Thomas could stand in the open air, leaning with his arms on the railing, sig in mouth. He could look over a big part of the city. He could see the river, the skyscrapers, the traffic below. Through the noises of the city some loud, though chill jazz sounded, probably coming from the home of one of the neighbours below. Two or three floors down, Thomas suspected. He took another drag from his sigaret and tipped off the ashes into the vast emptiness. Hopefully someone would get them on their head. That would be funny.

So this is New York, Thomas pondered, the Big Apple. It's big indeed. So I'll be living here, from now on... I miss Belfast already.... Maybe I'll look for a pub tonight. I'm sure there's got to be some place enjoyable somewhere around here. He watched some clerks, miniscule by the enormous distance, doing their thing in their offices on the other side of the street. "Pffff, corperate slaves." Thomas murmured. He finished his sigaret, tossed the remains over the railing and, just when the drops started to fall out of the sky again, he went inside again.

Sheryll sat there listening to Lyra's tale of hardship and pain, the tale touching Sheryll only outwardly. It wasn't that she didn't feel sad about the poor girl's suffering, just that she wasn't particularly empathic for those who wouldn't even TRY to help themselves. She caught the faintest crack in Lyra's voice, most likely brought on by repressing tears and wondered if her other house guest might not have a similarly sad tale to tell.
While Sheryll had initially doubted whether the tale was sincere or fantasy, that crack in her guest's voice implied that it was indeed sincere. Sheryll immediately began going over possible scenarios in her head, ranging from the likely to the absurd. Could this woman be an infiltrator working for an opposing organization, sent to gain her sympathy and trust?
An assassin out to kill her when she could not access her wires?
Or was she truly just a poor girl with little restraint in revealing her past tragedies. Sheryll looked back at Lyra very briefly, the faint line the liquid had left remained on her cheek only visible because of Sheryll's enhanced vision. Sighing, she stood up and resumed smiling.

"I'm very sorry that such terrible things happened to you, but look, if you ever have any problems, feel free to give me a call" she said as she pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down her phone number on it.

"Here you go" she said cheerfully, looking briefly out to the balcony as Thomas entered and closed the door behind him.

"Ah Thomas, good to see you're still dry. I was just telling Lyra that if she ran into any trouble she could call me. You can too of course, and if you need any help finding a job, I'd be happy to talk to my employer about getting you one. What are your skills?" She asked, tearing the paper, writing her number down again and handing it to Thomas.

Sheryll walked over to her wall and silently pressed one of the hidden panels. Small auto-turrets hidden in the lamps silently switched on. She didn't think that either of them were truly a threat to her, but the turrets would gun them down rather quickly if Sheryll said the code. She really didn't want Lyra to be an assassin, but the presence of the man, Thomas, increased the probability of it being true.
A random girl in the rain and a homeless man who just happened to be wearing a dog tag was an unlikely pair to run into. Sheryll was glad now that she had taken the man's pack out of his reach. If he turned out to not be a threat than she could simply return it, but if he was, then she had denied him what was possibly a small arsenal of weapons. She stared at the two, her enhanced eyes taking in every detail. Neither were in a combat ready stance. In fact, neither seemed even the least bit tense. That meant either Sheryll was wrong or that they were even better than she thought. Sheryll once again clicked the panel, disabling the turrets. She would give them the benefit of the doubt, if only because she really didn't want to wreck her apartment.

Sheryll stared at the two expectantly, her eyes wide and her back to the wall. She still had her hand pressed against the panel, ready to reactivate the high caliber turrets and yell the password at a moment's notice.

Lyra stuffed the phone number in her pocket. Grateful of the offer. Once Sheryll got up she guessed that she was with her message so she returned to her seat and took a sip of her coffee. Sheryll went outside to check of Thomas. Lyra eyes the apartment a bit more. It seems comfy but something felt off. She shrugged and passed it off as nothing it was most likely nothing. She continued to drink her coffee and munch on the mini powder donuts until the two walked back in. While Sheryll walked off to check something something popped into her head. "So Thomas you have dog tags, are you ex-military?" wondered Lyra. "Why leave the service if you have a stable job?"

Thomas dumbfoundedly took the piece of paper and read the text on it thrice before he put it in his pocket and snapped out of confusion: "Uhm...yeah...yeah...I'm a good-fer-nothing, so I'm pretty usefull." He followed Sheryll's movements as she marched away and touched the wall. Strange... She must be a little bit obsessive compulsive. Or maybe it was a little suspicious. Thomas chose to ignore it. He turned to face Lyra, as to answer her questions. "No...no...I was never in the army. These dogtags were my fathers. He fought in the falklands under the brits. He flew a chopper, but was shot down by AA guns." Thomas paused and pondered for a sec with a disturbed frown, as if he recalled a bad memory. "The bastard even survived, though. Was the only time God ever gave him some slack."

Sheryll listened intently as Thomas gave an account of his father's time in the British air force. He appeared to have some sort of deep resentment for the man, though he was attempting to hide it. She watched as Lyra walked about and suddenly felt a great weight. Sheryll yawned and began stretching, the brief moment of tension had exhausted her. In truth she blamed the rainy day, they always made her feel exceedingly tired. Her back hurt despite Lyra's excellent massage. Sheryll yawned once more before heading over to her bedroom door. She clicked it open and retrieved Thomas' mostly dry bag. Walking back out she hung it on a coat rack and turned to her two guests, her eyes heavy.

"Well, I'm gonna take a nap. Feel free to stay as long as you like." she said as she walked over to her bedroom door once.

"Good night" she chimed, walking over to her bed and collapsing into a deep sleep, not remembering the horrible nightmare she was bound to experience.

As she had thought, the nightmare came, it was a dream filled with her father's voice yelling at her about how she had failed, followed by a sharp pain, its source a thick whip made from the same substance as her wires, and pulsating with electricity. She writhed as each blow struck her back, leaving large bleeding scars and exposing some of her metallic skeletal structure.
She remembered that he called in some of the Sawbones to heal her up before he began once more. Each blow had more and more rancor in it, the hot fury on his face an even harsher punishment than the pain in her back. She had failed him, no matter how many apologies she shrieked out, no matter how many pleas for forgiveness echoed from her tear stained face, nothing she said could make him stop. She recalled falling into a state of near unconsciousness as the Sawbones came in and helped her once more, only for the pain to continue. Though there was no clock in the room, Sheryll could have sworn it was hours before he had finished. But that was far from the worst part.

As soon as the Sawbones had healed her a third time, her father unhooked her from the restraints and dragged her through the compound, while she wearing little more than the tattered rags that had been her clothes. He was parading her around, showing off her freshly scarred back to each and every trooper and trainee there. She remembered the looks on all their faces, unable to look away from her, a mix of lust and disgust permeated each and every one of their stares. She shook and suffered those images and memories for several more hours, unaware that tears were streaming down her sleeping face. She was completely unable to awaken or even allow herself to dream of anything else. When Sheryll finally awoke, it was a new day, and her phone was ringing...




((yeah, so that's my exit from this thread, you two go on as long as you want))