haunted to meet you

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Like wind, Infected shows were unrestrained and moved where they were least likely to encounter resistance. As he felt the Military breathing down his neck, Atlas had more of a presence in deciding when and where such shows would occur.

Not that it was important in this particular instance. The spectacles may have moved, but the Infected were kept in permanent pens, locked and chained down for fear of escape. They were entrusted to a single Spade, who had their fair share of underlings to help with the operations. Atlas' more frequent visits here had brought an air of unrest, adding to the anxiety brought about by corralling undead.

He was a cloaked figure, long black cap waving and swaying with his movements. There was a slowness to his step, an unrushed pace that expected the world to bend to his whims and not the other way around. The tunnels leading up to the pens were misleadingly quiet, but as one drew nearer to where the infected were kept, the air exploded into echoes of bone-chilling snarls, the ones that stroked a person's prey instincts to turn heel and run. Yet Atlas was no longer a person and the chorus of growls was almost welcoming, as if the beasts were heralding his arrival.

He stepped into the twisted, dark chamber and pulled off his hood. Immediately he was hit with a wave of rot, a mixture of all the undead, their decaying sustenance and the sorry corpses of those that crossed the Spades. To Atlas, it was a decadent smell, not entirely pleasant, but rich, like an exotic meal presented before him. His steps were drowned by the sound of infected, beasts untiring, caged and whining for release. He ignored their requests, as he ignored the hunched and grimy figures occupying some of the punishingly small cages, the ones who's bodies curled inward from exhaustion and hopelessness. It was an environment of suffering, of all the evils of humanity gathered and showcased, but to Atlas, it was a proud display of his power.

The Ace stopped behind who he assumed to be one of the handlers. They looked rather flustered, a feeling that Atlas sensed more than saw. He tilted his pale head curiously at him, not inclined to announce his arrival yet as he was content at watching and observing. When it appeared nothing interesting would happen without Atlas' intervention, he stepped forward and spoke, a string of coherent language in the muddle of bays and snarls, "You know, they can sense fear. And right now, you reek of it."

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 08-18-2021, 07:31 AM This post was last modified: 08-18-2021, 07:31 AM by Atlas

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Everything consistently remained in a state of damp and darkness. What little light flickered above head casted a yellow and grimy feeling among the rusted cages. Colton felt like he lived in a sewer. Smelled like it too. With so many bodies crammed into the Infected living quarters he remained thoroughly aware of his own presence at all times. He had to. One wrong step and he might find himself yanked up against the façade of an enclosed corral, teeth gnashing in his ear and hoping to pull an appendage through the iron bars for a living snack. Unfortunately he had to learn this the hard way, and while teeth never landed on his flesh, the calls were close, and his mind scarred.

Colt's movements reflected this lesson. Keeping a wide berth as he carried with him a burlap sack of blood bags. It was feeding time. The worst part of the day, to be sure. The creatures were more on edge, drooling at the mouth, gurgling sounds of excitement for the only thing that seemed to bring them joy to their existence. The sounds make goosebumps trickle down his arms and the back of his neck, and while he had lived with the same audio for weeks now, he didn't think he would ever grow un-phased by it.

You know, they can sense fear. And right now, you reek of it. Colt wrinkled his nose, not turning towards the sound of the words he heard. Not startled. Almost, peculiarly unperturbed. He tilted his head, rubbing his right ear into the top his shirt-covered shoulder; as if, the words were mere bothersome buzzing. Like a bee, no, a fly. So unimportant as a fly.

It seemed as if that were to be the extent of his reaction as he then reached into the sack and pulled out entrée #1 and tossed it awkwardly to the top of the next cage he came to. The bars were more spaced apart on top. Not so big that an Infected might be able to escape, but large enough for the blood bags to fall in without having to open or unchain any of the doors. It fell to the cold floor and the infected hissed like it had been attacked, grabbing it and squeezing so hard it burst across it's face, only partly making it into his mouth.

The stuff of nightmares.

Colt cringed. "I can't help it-" he began to say, seemingly answering back to the statement, but in the process turned and saw a man standing there in the room with him. He jumped back so hard he threw himself into a series of cages behind him and the Infected bellowed and hissed, grabbing at his clothing and yanking on the burlap sack. Colton struggled, his heart racing as he pried himself away enough to get his neck out from the strap that held the sack to his side.

He did, and tripped over his own shoes then fell to the floor as a pair of creatures began a tug of war over the feed bag. Eyes like saucers Colt jumped to his feet.

Tag Atlas

Posted 08-21-2021, 11:26 AM

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The back turned to him made no motion of acknowledgement. Atlas felt patient, crossed his arms and stood there, observing. He smelt the tension in the air, the sweat the beaded off of the feeder's forehead and the Infected clawing for the burlap sack filled with savory blood, a delicacy that forced out the tips of Atlas' fangs and only stilled the change in hue in his eyes when he acknowledged that this was not the rich sort of plasma he'd usually indulge in.

It seemed a repetitive motion, though one not quite ingrained into the mind. There was a tenseness to it, like he'd definitely done the routine before, but each time he threw that blood bag, there was an uncertainty at how the Infected would react. Atlas could imagine those rotting beasts ignoring the plastic bags entirely in favor of the fresh and virgin meal before them, though perhaps, that was his humanity speaking.

Atlas first met the man's eyes, which widened as they met his. His presence there seemed to have startled the man, like he'd just notice someone standing behind. The feeder's sudden jerk back landed him between twisted arms, draped in shreds of dead, black skin, which clawed wildly at his shirt, the sack he held, until the man relinquished it and the Infected descended upon the contents with reckless abandon.

Meanwhile, the poor sod leapt to his feet, chest rising and falling as he fought to assess the situation, gather his breath. And, meanwhile, Atlas watched, a wry twist to the corner of his lips, a glee that glimmered sickly in smoky blue eyes.

"Good job. Now you've got nothing to feed them with." Atlas' arms fell to his sides, and he moved towards the stranger, stopping and hovering at the limits of their personal space. His chin tilted back and he appraised the feeder, tauntingly. "Or, perhaps, they've a delicacy waiting, willing to trip over his own feet and offer himself as rare opportunity?".

He stepped at the side of the man, as if he were positioning himself to lean forward and whisper something in their ear, then casted a gaze back at where the two Infected wrestled over the burlap sack which was, remarkably, still whole.

"Well?" His eyes flashed back the brunette, arms crossing nonchalantly, and canted his head to the side, indicating that direction. "Go get it."

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 08-21-2021, 03:08 PM

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The voice was ever so familiar, frighteningly so. A tone that had never taken actual physical form, had somehow, some way breeched the sanctity of his mind and became real. All too real. Flesh and bone was before him. Pale and ghost-like, the man that stood there, eyes made of glass that felt as though they could bore right through Colton's very soul … if he had one. He stared at him as such, as if he were looking at something supernatural; waiting for him to disappear into thin air and cement another trick of the mind that Colt had fallen victim to many, many times over.

But he didn't. He remained.

He advanced.

The only thing that stopped Colton from retreating further and regathering the distance they had started with was the idea he would back himself into another corner of infected creatures. Surely they were ready for their second chance, another crack at a fresher dinner. So he stood. Frozen really, he didn't even shake or tremble as the man neared and began his assessment.

"Not... not willing." Where Colton lacked his usual physical nervousness, his stuttering made up for. He spoke very cautiously, afraid to say the wrong thing. Like he had done so before and it had not been good. Never mind the fact he had never spoken nor laid eyes on the man before, not once.

Where Colt's eyes had remained on the stranger, they flickered towards the two Infected when he motioned towards them, signaling that he needed to finish the job. A shiver ran down his spine as he understood what was expected of him. He came alive then.

"Oh, oh I think it'll be okay. I mean, they can share. Or um, it um, it's a good way to um.... you know, reward them, …. for winning. It'll make them better fighters... yeah." he swallowed hard down a dry throat, his voice almost cracking before he could finish the onslaught of rambling bullshit that had just occurred.

"Have you... always looked like this?" he looked back at the man in curiosity, asking perhaps, an off-the-wall question. Maybe it was a poor attempt to change the subject, even if it seemed genuine.

Tag Atlas

Posted 08-22-2021, 09:00 PM This post was last modified: 08-22-2021, 09:01 PM by Colton Holcombe

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The Infected pursed his lips, eyebrows drawn in displeasure at the young man's response and his lack of gall. He thought, briefly, to what he would say to Damascus for allowing his subordinates to act in such a way. Damascus was one of the few that shared Atlas' teaching style of instilling fear as motivation, and in his eyes, the handler was slipping. How disappointing.

"Look like what? Like a corpse?" The question drew up the corners of his lip in a slight smirk, though the rest of his face was unchanged from the indignation he felt. "No. I looked human, once. Sunkissed, believe it or not."

The Ace tapped a clawed finger against his chin, as if pondering over the validity of the handler's excuse. "You're right. They do deserve a 'special' reward." In a speed that was questionably out of human capability, Atlas rushed forward and pushed the handler backwards. It was not a forceful push on Atlas' part, but the sheer momentum and strength of a mutated Infected would cause the handler's back to hit the bar's and create a loud clanging sound. It drew the attention of the Infected, of whom quickly abandoned their torn-up sack and spilled blood bags for the far fresher meal bestowed on them.

Atlas allowed them to tear further at the handler's clothing, shred it so hints of his cream stomach peered from beneath. Perhaps he would have gotten a scratch or two. It was when one of the Infected drew their mouth's up, jaw agape and fangs inches away from sinking into the other's bare neck that Atlas drew something from his overcoat and blew.

The dog whistle sent the Infected careening back into their cage, whining and snarling in distress. Atlas stepped forward and nonchalantly threw the few unbroken blood bags between the bars, so when the ferals recovered, they'd be content with the accessible meal than the young man thrust against their cage.

The Ace turned to the other, frowning. "In your fear, you forget what these creatures. Animals, dangerous yes, but controllable and weak." He then gave the handler a slight indication with his hands before tossing him the dog whistle.

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 08-26-2021, 12:42 PM

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The filter in which was installed in Colton had … holes. Leaks. Often times he wasn't aware of the way in which he could be misinterpreted and that lead to unintended consequences. Hindsight was 20/20, and while sometimes his wasn't perfect vision, the moment the other stared back at him it gave him a chill down his spine with realization. The smirk did more to unsettle him, causing his brows to lift some in an apologetic cringe. "I..-" Colton wanted to backpedal like his life depended on it, maybe it did, but the other continued; answering the question through fully. His statement was considerably suspicious, maybe, Colton didn't give it his full attention.

… Not until he watched as the man tapped his chin... with a very inhuman sort of claw attached to the tip of his finger. His eyes, a russet chocolate, had to have widened. Colton wouldn't know what was going to happen until he was well in the thick of it. Shoved up hard against the cages, all of his instincts said move but he couldn't; held firm by the peculiarly pale and clawed man. "No-no, please don't! Please, stop!" he begged for his life, hand over the others, pleading as he cried out from feeling the Infected rip at his clothing and marring his exposed skin.

He thought he was dead. Any moment now and the creatures would find a place to sink their fangs and Colton could kiss his ass goodbye. Would Heath care? Would his father? Or anyone associated with the turn of events that had upended his life to this point? They were questions of someone that truly felt they were done.

Luckily this wasn't the case. The whistle sounded and the ripping and tearing ceased immediately, replaced with sounds of pure anguish. Colt had resigned to shutting his eyes, but opened them that moment after. The moment he was able, Colt quickly removed himself out of arms length of the cages. Watching them withering in the corners of their restraints and then turning to the man responsible.

He caught the whistle, turning it over in his palm as if he had been tossed a nugget of gold. Why hadn't he been given one of these before? Keeping his distance from the other, he didn't quite know what to say other than... "Thank you." which was done quietly and with his head tilted down at the ground.

For risk of reliving his prior transgressions, he tried to make amends "I didn't mean, earlier, I mean, I thought you were someone else.". He offered nothing more on the matter, and then pressed his hand to his side, where the Infected had clawed through his shirt, bringing traces of blood to the surface. It stung and he winced.

"Who are you?" he peered back up meekly.

Tag Atlas

Posted 08-28-2021, 01:02 PM

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From the look on his face, it was clear the only kindness the handler would get from Atlas was that dog whistle. He watched, with faint displeasure pulling at the top of his lip, at the thin red lines left by the Infected that peeked through the shreds of the handler's shirt. The feeling was wrought not only by the handler's glaring weakness but also by the fangs that threatened to escape their fleshy sheath and glimmer like a beacon of his affliction. As much as Atlas liked to hint an his inhuman nature, he was careful not to flaunt it stupidly, for not only would it attract further attention from the Military but contradict the business model Atlas had crafted of Infected as the enemy.

Still, even if his canines were to elongate, shimmer over his human molars, it's not like the handler would connect the dots. He could still see the panic, fear, not only see it but smell it.

Atlas chuckled, darkly, humorlessly, at the other's question. One may expect him to launch a villain's monologue postulating over the question of who one is, or give some doggedly ominous answer, but Atlas merely crossed his arms and leaned back against a cage, still and composed despite the Infected that crouched in the shadows inside of it like feral tigers, and said, "Atlas."

You know, the man that co-orchestrated your kidnapping. Would Colton know this? Atlas had never seen Colton before now, for while he coordinated with Officer Holcombe, he never met the target in question, nor did he have the desire to. Not until now.

He observed the handler then, for the first time taking in the other's appearance in full. Where he was twenty-five or sixteen in human years, Atlas couldn't tell. He was not an impressive specimen, not like Damascus, who stood taller and broader than Atlas and could have bent the Ace in ways had Atlas never been turned. Somehow, the outside reflected the in.

"You're Colton. Damascus' new bitch." He closed his eyes and snickered, fuller than last time, as if the thought were amusing. "Of course he's laid claim to the Military pup."

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 09-06-2021, 08:34 AM This post was last modified: 09-06-2021, 08:36 AM by Atlas

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Not much time had passed since Colton was stolen and brought down here to the gutters, the crossroads. He was still wet behind the ears in terms of how things worked, or would work with the Spades. A part of him assured himself he would never have to fully incorporate. Just keep his head low, do what he was told (not doing so well there), and wait for rescue. Still yet, he wasn't blind and death to what he had witnessed thus far. It was clear, in the quiet murmuring and dark shadowed corners who ran the show... there was only one name on their lips; Atlas.

In his mind's eye; his overactive imagination, Colton had pieced together a portrait of what he thought Atlas looked like. He had imagined a tall man, slender, agile even... but dark and cast in a dulled veil that made it hard to determine the details. Whoever it was, they had to be capable of slithering about the underbelly of the Stronghold. To survive down here. He wasn't sure he would ever meet this man. He was almost a formidable being, an entity, not a person at all. A myth... a legend. Colton had hoped he never would come to learn of the Spades Ace at all, not by first hand experience at least.

So when the other offered his name, Colton felt his heart sink into his stomach. Eyes widening, the fear was two-fold. As if he had just realized he was trapped inside a cage with a venomous (coincidental) viper. If only he knew how true that assessment was. "Oh." was all that could come from his lips, the only sound that had the ability to pry itself from his vocal chords in that moment.

Suddenly, it was very warm inside the kennel room and Colton felt himself beginning to perspirate.

He nodded his head at the statement, for it definitely were no question that he was Colton; subsequently agreeing unintentionally to the latter half of it as well. He hated, with every fiber, to be laughed at. And yet, the snickering that ensued fell on Colt's deaf ears. Perhaps if Atlas was any other person, and not the leader of a jabberwockies gang... Colt might of displayed his anger... but not this time.

"Why?" he asked quietly, hesitantly "Why did you all take … me?" There were so many better options than Colton. Really, in both his mind and many others, he was a poor choice for just about … anything really. "Unless... you wanted ransom? My dad would pay. I'm sure he would pay." He tried to put a little bug in Atlas' ear, and hopefully manage a way out of this place.

Posted 09-16-2021, 11:02 AM

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The Ace stared at the man a long while over crossed arms, observing the way sweat beaded down his forehead that suggested it was not from the cool, stale interior of the Infected keep and feeling his heart beat racing at the soles of his feet. Atlas took a long, unrushed exhale as he sighed to himself, out loud, "Alright. I guess we're doing this now."

He pushed himself off of the cage. It was odd, the way the Infected cowered at Atlas, whereas in Colton's presence, they were launched into a frenzy of hunger. The Ace regarded Colton with cool eyes, and spoke with a disinterest that suggested he did not invest the same amount of care into the impassioned request of Colton's. He chuckled, darkly, like there were some inside joke Colton was not a part of. "It's simpler than you think, boy. They offered us a pair of working hands, and they paid us for it." The Ace shrugged at Colton. "It really is nothing personal."

Of course, that was not the whole truth. Atlas knew exactly who had approached him and what this person had meant to them. At first, the Ace was thrilled to have been offered some leverage over a military official on a silver platter- but as he thought on it, how worthy was Colton really, if his father would so willingly give him up to the Jabberwockies, famed antagonists of the Military who had limited moral judgement or sympathy? In the end, Atlas decided it to be a worthy arrangement, for he not only got another number to add to his ranks but an Inner Citadel brat who's ignorance could turn out to be easily utilized.

It was then that Atlas considered the handler before him. Spindly, with anger and sadness brimming in defeated eyes. Should he have told him then that it was his very father that sold him to the gang? That would surely bring the cloud of hopelessness crashing down on Colton, leave him a flattened mess to be reshaped as an informant and tool of the Spades. But an odd sense of pity crossed Atlas, in that he chose to refrain that little bit of information and picked up the abandoned food bucket to hold out for Colton to take. Maybe it wasn't pity- maybe it was calculation, that he would keep Colton ignorant for now until it was beneficial to reveal the truth.

"And give up what leverage we have over the Military," Atlas met Colton's eyes, cruel humor expelling in the chuckle that followed, like the notion was utterly ridiculous. "I'd rather have you clean up Infected shit for weeks than that."

The Ace then reached out a slender arm, long, claw-like fingertips gracing the edge of Colton's jaw. "But fret not. You've got quite a cozy position for yourself. Most of the people sold to us end up as fodder for our Infected fights." His eyes sparkled dangerously. "Don't make me regret putting you there."

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 09-18-2021, 03:11 PM This post was last modified: 09-18-2021, 03:36 PM by Atlas

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As Atlas moved away from the cages and sighed so audibly Colt instinctively took a step back. You've pushed the wrong button. he thought, heard. He would have chastised himself for being so bold, especially in the presence of the Ace... and even more so when he had already danced with death once this day already. He should of kept his mouth shut. He regretted it. Looking away, down, anywhere but to meet the eyes of the other.

He listened and kept himself leery of the other's movements, always in his peripheral, and if not that, a quick glance here and there. Atlas spoke, and Colt had nothing but more questions following those answers. He knew he had to tread lightly though, fearing he would insult him again and next time end up locked inside a cage with a hungry Infected. "They?" he questioned quietly and lifted a brow cautiously. Everything about his stance screamed of insecurities and overwhelming amount of nervousness.

He stared down at the food bucket that was picked up and then held out for him to take. He had to make a decision, stand there and do nothing, or move forwards a step and take the bucket back. Colt could think of a million other things he would rather do than traverse closer to the Ace, but he couldn't risk appearing to chose insubordination. Carefully, but quickly he reached out and took it. Like ripping off a band aid.

He was surprised that Atlas didn't even nibble at the bait to make money. Colt was completely oblivious to what was most influential to the jabberwockie gangs, but he had always assumed money was at the top of that list. The fact that option was completely off the table grew more concern in Colt's gut. If they didn't want money, and this was about influence and reputation... a feather in their hat... they could just as easily get rid of him and further make a name for themselves. "But there has to be something you want. Something you could trade me for that's better than … this." He had to try again.

He wanted so badly to tell Atlas he was wrong in that he himself was any sort of leverage. He was broken. He had failed the academy. He wasn't worth much, except to his father and mother. But maybe that was the point. The title, not the worth.

As Atlas moved forwards and trailed his fingers across his jaw, Colton froze, holding his breath and feeling himself become almost lightheaded. Don't move, don't move. Quite aware of the claws that had touched him, he must of resembled a deer in the headlights of the olden days. "No-no, you won't regret it." he exhaled, trembling. The adrenaline in his veins temporarily ceased the burning pain from the scratches on his side.

If Atlas wasn't completely and horrifyingly frightening because of his rank, he would of been incredibly attractive. Don't go there, I'm not going there. the voices combatted themselves inside of his head. "Can I... can I go to the restroom, please." he muttered cautiously, trying his best to get away without it looking that way. You're gonna get sick. Aren't you?

Tag Atlas

Posted 09-22-2021, 12:03 PM

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Poor, ignorant man- trembling under his touch, an unwilling puppet in a play he could not even see, unfolding around him. Atlas pitied Colton, for that was not a position the Ace wanted to find himself in. He knew the world hid secrets, that the very Stronghold they inhabited were built on lies and deception, and that he himself did not know the entirety of its governance, its purpose. And that spawned his goal- to unravel those secrets, hold all of that knowledge in the palm of his hand, ready to be us for his own gain. For there would always be something bigger than him, another obstacle, another giant to rein.

He supposed he pitied Colton because knowledge was power in this dystopia.

"I have everything that I could want, right here," Atlas informed Colton, retracting his hand. There was a screech from one of the Infected, the scream of claws over metal, as if to punctuate the Ace's statement. "And those things I do want, you couldn't possibly provide."

The grin on the Ace's lips were grotesque with shadow, as he stepped back and placed a gentle, clawed forefinger under an Infected's chin, petting it as it if were a dog. It continued to press itself against the rusted bars, rotted arms stretching violently between them, unreactive to the sudden touch.

"Excellent," Atlas drawled. His smile flashed malice at Colton. "I think they've taken a liking to you." A liking for his nerves, the telltale twitch of anxious, fearful prey. Atlas could smell it thick on the other, and he found he too had to exercise conscious control over the exposure of his fangs.

Atlas let out a sigh at Colton's request. Going so soon? The Ace were enjoying himself. But he would rather the man- the boy- not piss his pants in front of him. The man flicked a dismissive, pale wrist, then turned his head to give the Infected one last scratch under its chin. It appeared to have felt that, as it lunged towards Atlas, though the Ace met the sudden jerk with stony stillness.

"Poor, poor creatures," the Ace's voice rumbled low. "Helpless to their own destinies- can there not be a fate worst than the one you can't control?"

Tag : Colton Holcombe

Posted 10-18-2021, 12:03 PM

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