Rooftops of Baltimore, Tuesday Evening
Jul. 3rd, 2018 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Living on the island didn't give Verity much of an opportunity to indulge in her other-other favorite pastime: free running. She loved free running, dashing across the open rooftops of Baltimore, darting over walls and along structures. It was like a form of dance, and her partner was the environment itself. It took the best elements of tumbling, gymnastics, and being a professional superhero and mixed them into one incredibly rewarding, incredibly fun package.
She had been dubbed the Arboreal Priestess for a reason.
The harpy family that Verity collected the mail for had mentioned that they'd seen an ahool flying nearby, which had sent Verity to this particular rooftop once the appropriate goodbyes had been said. Ahool were like the flying monkeys from Wizard of Oz, who brought down prey by means of the bacteria swarming in their filthy little mouths. A hungry ahool would take a chunk out of a person and wait for them to die before beginning to feed. Since they were cooperative hunters, a non-hungry ahool would do the same thing and leave the corpse lying around in case another member of its pack was hungry later. Either way, that added up to dead humans, which was something Verity tried to prevent at all costs.
Her eyes were scanning likely places for an ahool to nest and not on the rooftop under her feet, which was how she missed the snare until she was stepped in it. The rope snapped taut, the loop closed around her ankle, and all she had time to think before the deadweight hit the side of her head was how much Alex was going to laugh at her for this one.
[So it continues! Adapted from Chapter 5 of Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire and and coded by the amazing
firstofitskind. Part one and next post here. NFI, NFB, OOC is love]
She had been dubbed the Arboreal Priestess for a reason.
The harpy family that Verity collected the mail for had mentioned that they'd seen an ahool flying nearby, which had sent Verity to this particular rooftop once the appropriate goodbyes had been said. Ahool were like the flying monkeys from Wizard of Oz, who brought down prey by means of the bacteria swarming in their filthy little mouths. A hungry ahool would take a chunk out of a person and wait for them to die before beginning to feed. Since they were cooperative hunters, a non-hungry ahool would do the same thing and leave the corpse lying around in case another member of its pack was hungry later. Either way, that added up to dead humans, which was something Verity tried to prevent at all costs.
Her eyes were scanning likely places for an ahool to nest and not on the rooftop under her feet, which was how she missed the snare until she was stepped in it. The rope snapped taut, the loop closed around her ankle, and all she had time to think before the deadweight hit the side of her head was how much Alex was going to laugh at her for this one.
Dominic De Luca | Dominic De Luca, journeyman member of the Covenant, had come to Baltimore on a mission. For his first independent assignment, he had been tasked to get an idea of the number of monsters that had sprung up in this American city and decide whether it was ripe for another purge; then his brethren would come with fire and holy water and blessed bullets and slay every unnatural creature that called this city home. One such creature already lay dead at his feet; a hideous monkey-thing with wings and sharp teeth. It had tried to bite him several times before he slew it and only his thick leather duster had protected his flesh. From the brief cry above him on the rooftop, it seemed as if one of his snares had caught something else. Who knew what kind of monster this could be? Still, two monsters in a single hour span? Baltimore was in grave trouble indeed. |
Verity | There was no shame in blacking out when whipped abruptly into the air and getting slammed in the head, especially if you were running when it happened. That was Verity's story and she was sticking to it. Seriously, if there was shame in it, she and Alex would have died of embarrassment before Antimony turned nine. Having a little sister who set traps for fun definitely made them a little blasé about getting caught. Any trap you could walk away from was probably set by someone who wasn't trying to kill you. Not immediately, anyway. Still begged the question though: who the hell was setting traps up on rooftops? The first thing she did was check to make sure her weapons were still where they were supposed to be. They were; thank god for custom holsters. She'd have to tell her dad she'd discovered a new stress test. After making sure her guns and knives were where they were supposed to be, she started trying to free herself. But the knot was too good and the angle too steep to get hold of the rope and all that trying to swing herself upwards managed to get her was dizzy. She was about to pull out her phone and make a very sheepish call to Sarah when she heard the crunch of gravel on the roof. She was out of time. The only thing to do now was to play possum and hope that whoever came over didn't notice her sliding her gun out from under her windbreaker. |
Dominic | Dominic made his way across the gravel, lugging the dead creature along behind him. It wouldn't do to leave the corpse of something so obscene where innocent eyes could fall upon it. Peering into the shadows of the gathering dusk, he tried to make out what his snare had caught. Something large, certainly. Where the winged monkey was the length of his torso, whatever he'd caught was roughly human height. Maybe five or so feet? He continued his approach cautiously. It wasn't moving and the snare had it subdued, but there was every possibility the fell beast could spit acid or elongate its body or any number of other unnatural things in order to attack him. Pulling out a flashlight, he clicked it on, aiming it at where the creature's face should be. And gasped. Whatever he'd been expecting to catch up here on a rooftop rife with cryptid activity, it hadn't been a human-looking young woman. And certainly not a human-looking young woman with a gun. |
Verity | Well, that was just short-sighted and speciesist of him. "Hi," Verity said, brightly. "Ever been shot in the head? Because I don't think you’d enjoy it much. Most people don't." Her unnamed new buddy swore under his breath, still shining the flashlight in her face. He dropped whatever he was dragging, digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out a small object. Something wet splashed across Verity's chest and neck a moment later, running down her chin to drip into her mouth and nose. She sputtered, widening her eyes in surprised indignation. "What the hell did you do that for?" Verity demanded. |
Dominic | "You said you were going to shoot me!" the man replied. One hand still held the flashlight. His other arm was thrust out towards Verity, pointing an antique-looking silver vial in her direction. |
Verity | "Newsflash, buddy: threats of violence don’t turn this into a wet T-shirt contest." More liquid dripped into Verity's mouth as she spoke. She spat it out, but not before she'd had time to taste it: mostly water, mixed with salt, and a bitter herb she recognized as aconite. It was a pretty standard mixture for banishing incubi and succubi. The poor things were deathly allergic. If this had been two of her cousins out here, he would have just sent them into anaphylactic shock. She gaped at him. "Did you just splash me with holy water?" |
Dominic | "You're in my trap!" he said. He was starting to sound uncertain. He'd had something of a script for this encounter, but the girl was refusing to stick to it in any meaningful way and now he was very getting confused. |
Verity | Tough. "Your trap is on my rooftop," Verity retorted, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world. "I'm as human as you are. Now do you want to tell me why you're setting snares, and maybe lower me down from this thing before I lose my temper and start shooting?" |
Dominic | That put him back on familiar ground. Straightening, he puffed out his chest and said, "I am armored with righteousness." |
Verity | "Cool," Verity said, nodding. "Cool, cool, cool. One question--does righteousness protect you from small-caliber bullets?" Inquiring minds wanted to know. And her gun wasn't wavering. |
Verity | He hesitated. "You're sure you’re human?" "Both my parents swear it," the girl retorted. "I'll get you down." |
Verity | Verity smiled, not shifting her aim. "Good plan." The snare was anchored to an iron bolt hammered into a nearby chunk of masonry. Her captor disappeared in that direction, leaving Verity dangling. She had just long enough to wonder whether he'd decided to cut and run when she felt a sharp tug on the rope, and she was lowered slowly, if not smoothly, to the ground. Verity tucked the gun back into her waistband, stretching her hands overhead and using them to turn the end of her descent from a straight drop into a lazy somersault. She had just finished pulling off the snare when the man came back into view. He pointed his flashlight at her ankle, and Verity let her breath hiss out between her teeth. Her sock had been able to protect her from the bulk of the damage, but there was still blood soaking into the white cotton in several places. The human leg wasn't meant to be used as a long-term hanging mechanism. "You bleed red," he said, sounding relieved. "I bleed red, and replacement socks are coming out of your paycheck." She slipped the rope off over her foot. "You ever try to get blood out of white cotton?" |
Dominic | "I was afraid you wouldn’t bleed at all, ma'am," he said. Suddenly formal, he walked over and bent to offer his hand. "I'm sure you understand my caution. I certainly wasn't expecting to make so undeserving a capture." Verity was looking at him, blankly. When she didn't take his hand, he hastened to add, "Dominic De Luca, at your service. I promise you my intention is purely to assist." |
Verity | "Next time, assist me by not setting snares on the rooftop, okay?" Verity ignored his hand and levered herself upright, gingerly testing to see how much weight she could put on her left ankle. The answer: not enough. She'd had worse injuries both in the field and on the dance floor, but a banged-up ankle was never an asset. "Ow. What the hell are you even trying to do here? That thing's too big for pigeons, and you're not likely to catch many rats up here." |
Dominic | An expression of distaste flashed across his face. "There are things, ma'am, that it is perhaps better of which you do not know." He saw Verity's growing skepticism and gave a sanctimonious nod. "There are more things in Heaven and in Earth--" |
Verity | Verity raised a hand, cutting him off. "First, do not quote Shakespeare at me. I get that quite enough from my grandma." She studied him, narrowing my eyes. The formal language. The snare. The holy water. The duster, stereotypical uniform of the 'monster hunters' of the world. "Second, what are you doing here?" She was starting to get an idea and she was really hoping it was wrong. The night was too young to kill a man, you know? |
Dominic | Dominic narrowed his eyes in turn, the expression barely visible with the flashlight pointed in Verity's direction. "I don't think I have to answer the questions of a strange woman who stumbles into my snares and refuses to give me her name," he said. |
Verity | "It's no basis for a system of government, that's for damn sure," Verity muttered. As she'd suspected, the guy--Dominic--showed no signs of recognition. She looked back toward the thing he'd been dragging when he first appeared. Before he had a chance to stop her, Verity half-limped over to where it had been dropped. It looked like an old brown sack at first, until she turned it over with her foot and saw the ahool's characteristically apelike face snarling up at her. Its eyes were glazed with death. "Miss—" "You killed it," she said numbly. "You killed the ahool." |
Dominic | "You...know this fell beast?" His steps slowed, taking on a newly cautious edge. "You asked what I was doing here. Perhaps I should be asking you the same." |
Verity | "You killed it." Verity wasn't even listening to him, just staring down at the dead creature. "It was just--just being an ahool, minding its own business, and you killed it! I mean, sure, eventually, that business might have included biting people, and then it would need to be relocated or exterminated, but you didn't need to just kill it! Not without observing it and making sure it didn't have a whole flock of buddies that would swarm and eat us both!" |
Dominic | "Miss." Dominic's footsteps stopped entirely. His voice was hard. "Who are you?" |
Verity | "You killed it." The urge to shoot him was overwhelming. Only a lifetime of etiquette lessons and the irritating fact that he was probably wearing some sort of body armor stopped her. Verity turned to face him, suspicion turning to certainty. "You're with the Covenant, aren’t you?" She might as well have shot him from the way he recoiled. He took a step backward, one hand going to his hip and pulling a nasty looking hunting knife from a previously hidden scabbard. "How do you know that?" "Simple." Her gun was out, faster than he expected and pointing right at his forehead. She offered a sweet, sunny, entirely insincere smile, trying to pretend that she wasn't standing in front of a dead cryptid that had been needlessly slaughtered in her city. "My name's Verity Price. Now what the hell are you doing in Baltimore?” |
Dominic | No one knew exactly when the organization that became the Covenant was founded. Their ranks included a lot of scholars and scribes, but records get lost, libraries have a tendency to burn down--especially when the libraries belong to a secret society that goes around harassing dragons for fun--and if you give history enough time, it has a nasty tendency to turn into myth. The founding date wasn't that important, really. It had been around for centuries. It was all over the world, sometimes under different names, but always with the same mission statement: if a thing doesn't fit whatever's currently defined as 'natural,' it needs to die. No argument, no discussion, no mercy. The Covenant: because sometimes you want your genocidal assholes to be organized. Now one of those same genocidal assholes was in Verity's city, holding a knife on her, looking like she'd just run over his dog. And he was killing cryptids. This was sure shaping up to be a swell night. "Price," he said, with almost exaggerated care. "As in...?" |
Verity | "Thomas Price was my grandfather." And this was why the Prices were suspicious of others and hostile to outsiders, why Verity could only dance as Valerie Pryor. Just being born a Price was enough to qualify as a traitor to the human race in the Covenant's eyes, which was a neat trick. All the treason, none of the effort. And how did they earn the enmity of a global brotherhood of fanatic monster hunters? The simple way: they quit. Verity's paternal great-great-grandparents, Alexander and Enid Healy, were born into the Covenant. They were active members for years before they started wondering what the hell they were doing. Then Great-Great-Grandpa Healy found the connection between wiping out the unicorns in England and the great cholera epidemic, and it was all over but the shouting, recriminations, and emigration to America. Maybe the Covenant could have forgiven them for their desertion, but two generations later, Verity's grandmother married Thomas Price, a representative of the Covenant who'd been sent to make sure the Healys were harmless. Leaving was bad enough, but convincing others to defect was enough to start a blood feud. For the Covenant, killing cryptids was a calling. Killing Prices was retribution. "What are you doing in my city?" |
Dominic | He pulled himself a little straighter, trying to look imposing. Verity had been dancing the tango with men a foot and a half taller than she was since she was fourteen. Hell, Liam had probably about four inches on that guy and glowed when he slept. Verity wasn't impressed. "I wasn't aware that you’d been granted the authority to claim cities. How quaint. Who backs you?" |
Verity | "Me." Verity shrugged. "The rest of the family. Oh, and most of the city's cryptids, who happen to be big fans of me and my tendency not to kill them." A slight exaggeration, but Dominic didn't need to know that. "They won't be happy if you try arresting me. Or with the idea that there's a hunter in the city." Most of the city's cryptids would probably lose their shit and then begin to bail immediately upon hearing an agent of the Covenant was in town. But again, more stuff this Dominic jackass didn't need to know. |
Dominic | "This city has gone without a purge for far too long." |
Verity | Verity felt like she'd been plunged into a bucket of ice water. She'd only wanted to come here to figure out if she could make it as a dancer and here she was, talking to an agent of the Covenant about a possible purge. "This city is doing just fine without a purge, thank you very much." She glanced at the dead ahool one more time. "It's definitely not in the market for a serial killer." |
Dominic | Dominic actually looked affronted. "Are you implying that I--?" He left the question unfinished, but the intonation was clear. |
Verity | "You're setting snares for potentially intelligent creatures with the intent to kill them based solely on attributes that you don't like," Verity pointed out. Ahool weren't intelligent, but they also weren't going to get caught in a snare. Rooftop snares meant he was hunting for a wide variety of prey. "I think the situation's pretty self-explanatory, don't you?" He started to step forward, the knife still in his hand. Her gun, which had slowly shifted down to point at the rooftop as they spoke was back up and aimed at his left eye before he'd finished the motion. "Do you really want to do that?" she asked. "Think hard. I'm having a lousy night, and I promise you're not going to take me quietly." |
Dominic | Dominic hesitated. "No," he said finally. "I don't. I thought you'd been wiped out." "Wiping things out is your hobby, but no, we haven't been." "They taught me about you. Your desertion." "What a great way of putting it. I'll have to write that in my diary." "You were a glorious bloodline before you decided to turn traitor." |
Verity | Now Verity was starting to get pissed. She shifted as much of her weight as possible to her right leg, glaring at him. "Are we doing this thing or not? Because if not, I want you out of Baltimore, and out of my way." |
Dominic | "I suppose that's the answer, then," said Dominic regretfully, before he lunged. The Covenant could say this much: they taught their people how to fight. Dominic moved with grace and deadly speed, turning a headlong charge into an attack before most people would have had time to do more than blink. Keeping the knife held slightly behind him, he balled his right hand into a fist and swung for the place where Verity's head should have been. |
Verity | He missed by what Verity's mother would have called a country mile. She was already dropping to land balanced on the fingertips of her left hand and the toe of her right foot, knee bending as it accommodated her sudden half-crouch. Kicking her left foot upward in a maneuver she was certain to regret in the morning, she slammed her heel into his wrist, sending the knife flying out of his hand and away into the darkness on the roof. He was good. She wasn't sure he wouldn't have been better, had he been attacking to kill and not to capture. Verity had no such qualms. Fighting like a gentleman is the sort of luxury reserved for people who can afford to lose. And she couldn't. |
Dominic | Dominic recovered quickly, delivering a kick to the Price girl's kidneys. She rolled with it, letting the borrowed momentum carry her several feet before springing to her feet. She moved faster than he expected and suddenly shoved her gun into his face. He blinked, suddenly face to face with several inches of dull metal and a dark hole right in the center. |
Verity | "You are not a good listener," Verity said, trying not to show how badly that kick had hurt, or how disgusted she was by the congealed ahool blood now staining her windbreaker after she'd rolled over it. |
Dominic | For his part, Dominic was looking like a man who'd just learned the world wasn't perfect. "You little--" |
Verity | "Finishing that sentence gets you shot," Verity said, and stepped backward. "Here's a tip: never bring a knife to a gunfight. Here's another: stop killing my cryptids, and get out of my city. If I hear one word about you harassing the people that live here, or see you one more time, I'm not going to fight fair." But the same rules that made her let those ghouls go free meant she had to extend him the same courtesy. Damn it. |
Verity | "The Covenant will be hearing about this." |
Verity | "What, that you met a random girl on a rooftop who told you she was a member of a family you guys wiped out years ago right before she kicked your ass? As if." Verity sneered. "Even if your pride would take it, they wouldn't believe you." She took another step backward. The edge of the roof was only a few feet away. "Get out of my city, De Luca. Next time, I won't play nice." |
Dominic | "Next time, neither will I," he snarled, and pulled another knife from his coat, flinging it towards her chest—or at least toward the space where her chest had been. By the time the knife finished its flight, Verity was already over the edge of the roof, dropping like a rock into the darkness below. |
[So it continues! Adapted from Chapter 5 of Discount Armageddon by Seanan McGuire and and coded by the amazing
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