Hold it together,
Birds of a feather,
Nothing but lies and crooked wings,
I have the answer,
Spreading the cancer,
You are the faith inside me.
No,
Don't leave me to die here,
Help me survive here,
Alone,
Don't remember,
Remember.

Breaking Benjamin, Evil Angel

16

Sunlight was what woke her up.

It hadn't been the numerous of voices that were just audible from wherever she was. It hadn't been the random animalistic noises that occasionally decided to be heard. It wasn't the laughter, the shouting, nor a groan from someone else that shared the same place as her.

It was someone leaving.

Her eyes snapped open the second that the first rays of sunshine splashed across her face. She stared, blinded, as whoever was leaving left, pulling aside what looked like a piece of fabric to allow themselves time to exit before disappearing. Dots danced across her vision and they increased when she sat up, lifting up the tattered and stained blanket that had been resting across her.

Once the dots had disappeared somewhat, she studied her surroundings. She recognized the insides of a tent, everything cramped and unorganized as if whoever owned it had just shoved it into whatever place that it fit. Light filtered in from holes in the damaged roof. Fury was currently on a simple cot that was on a wooden mattress; it wasn't all that comfortable and the pillow that she had been given was loosing straw already. Crates and boxes were spilling their contents all over the place, which was mostly bandages or clothes. Medical supplies were scattered everywhere, so Fury assumed that she was in a medical tent. It explained why bandages were wrapped about her wounded arm, only allowing her to lift it but so high, and why other random places she could briefly remember having scratches or scrapes were also. Someone nearby groaned again; she sat straighter and looked around until she found someone curious.

She leaned forward to see the person more as she slipped off the side of the bed that she was on. Her feet shuffled through the dirt as she tested out her reflexes with her bandaged arm, creating a fist with her hand and wincing as pain shot up though her arm. When she was close enough, she stole the small bowl of water resting near the groaning man and checked to see its sanitation before sipping it slowly to ease her parched state.

A man laid on another bunk, grunting. His fingers twitched as if he was in a dream, a few muscles in his arm doing the same. Greasy blond hair, dirty from not being washed, was messed up greatly on top of a chiseled face, the beginnings of a five-o'clock shadow around his mouth. Blood stained his forehead and Fury couldn't help but to reach out, sympathetically brushing aside some of the darken bangs that stuck to the spot. The man was dressed in a simple white t-shirt that was muddied and colored from blood, jeans ripped and torn covering his legs. His feet had a white clothe over them -boots laid nearby on a desk. As if to make things even worse, a pair of duel wield swords sheathed in two leather scabbards hanging from a nail on one of the two wooden poles holding up the tent were clearly his; the same leather to make the scabbards were used to create his belt.

She glanced over him once more, noticing the darker stains of blood on his shirt. Most of his right arm was wrapped with the same bandage as her own arm and one of his knees had suffered the same fate judging by the blood coloring the hole in his jeans there. As the Horsewoman was studying the man, she noticed a bracelet about his wrist. Interested, she took the brightly colored, almost childish bracelet and leaned down to study it more, taking in the girlish colors there.

What was a man like this doing with something like that?

Fury was still looking at the bracelet when she something grabbed her wrist. Panic flashed through her like lightening. Her gaze flickered up to where she knew the man's face was; brown eyes, slightly wild in nature, were focused on her with an utmost intensity. She was just starting the beginnings of an apology when the man threw her wounded arm that he had grabbed to the side, causing her to yelp out in pain. Her head snapped up just in time to see a fist hurtling in her direction.

"Shit," Fury cursed as the fist slammed into the side of her face as she instinctively crumpled to the side to lessen the attack's force. Though the hit was still strong, it was no where near the strength that she had been predicting for the man his size. It still sent her stumbling back, crashing into a couple of crates.

By the time that she had recovered enough to look up, the man had struggled to his feet, minding his wounded leg. His hands felt around for something, his blond locks falling sloppily into his brown eyes. She rose to her feet just as the man's hand slapped about one of the two swords hanging from the nail. Eyes flashing with a new determined strength, the clang of him unsheathing one of the swords rang through the tent until it was pointing directly at her. Something told her that he wouldn't be afraid to shove it through her chest too.

They had a staring contest for a few minutes. His brown eyes stared daggers into her yellow ones. Her breath seemed to become heavier with very passing second and she felt the anxiety beginning to eat at her as he continued to stare at her. "Who the hell are you?" the man asked, his voice gruff and tight.

"Someone you really don't want to mess with," she replied softly, trying to appear intimidating.

"Wrong answer, bitch."

Next thing she knew, the man was hurtling himself at her, a roar coming from him. Curses stumbled from Fury as she struggled to find something to protect herself. The mattress she fell upon seemed like her best option; the man lifted the sword up high, snarling, and Fury's hand wrapped about the handle of something. Taking a chance, she dove forward. The wind of the man's swing swished by the side of Fury's head, missing her and her purple hair by inches. With a battle cry of her own, she slammed the weapon in her hand into the man's thigh.

Another roar burst from the man as he fell forward, catching one of the poles holding the tent. Fury rolled to her feet in the confined space, slightly surprised to find that what had been in her hand had actually been a knife -she didn't want to know why a doctor needed to have one of those. The man's sword dropped between his fingers as he tried to steady himself; another scream erupted from him as he yanked the knife from his leg. Fury scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain pounding through her arm, and glanced up at the remaining sword. She snatched it, unsheathing it in one clumsy motion. The noise attracted the man's attention and he turned to face her, his eyes darting about for his other sword that he had dropped. Catching sight of it first, Fury stepped on the blade just as he lunged for it, pointing her weapon at him as he froze, eyes wide, mouth parted, and one hand outstretched as the other pressed against his new wound.

"Now," Fury began. "Who are you, where am I, and how the hell do I get out?"

Brown eyes glared at her as he sat himself up into a sitting position, hand grasping the wound that she had just given him. Slowly, he lifted up a hand and... flicked her off. "I don't have to tell you shit." His voice was strangely calm and it struck a nerve in Fury.

"Are you the one holding the damn sword?" she spat, gesturing at him as if to remind him.

"You think I'm scared of my own damn sword? Shit, you know how many times I've stabbed myself with those damn things? I've got scars all over from them."

"That's not what I asked you."

"That's what you're going to get." The man gave her a smirk before shifting a tad bit. Curses rambled from his lips as his body jolted in pain. As one hand grasped the knife wound, his other one slapped until it landed on a small pile of linen bandages resting on a crate nearby. He pulled everything free, grabbing a black bottle that was nearby. Once he had poured some of the contents onto the bandage, he began dabbing at his injury cautiously. "Damn, this shit always happens to me," he grumbled. His brown eyes flickered up to her, not at all worried about the sword that she had been pointing at him with a stiff posture, and narrowed after a second. "Wait a second, you're that chick that Anin and Shel dragged in with Zakee."

The familiar names caused Fury's eyebrow to raise and she lowered the dual wield sword slowly. "Zakee... Is he alright?"

"Zakee? Shit. Nothin' can kill him. I've personally sliced his chest open a few times during training." The man paused again, pulling away the bandage he was using to cringe at the sight of his own blood staining it. "Doc's already cleaned him and he's out there talking to Andrew."

Andrew. That was the second time that she had heard that name. The first had been when Shel and Anin had been dragging her and Zakee away; Anin had suggested that they regroup with an Andrew before Fury had passed out from exhaustion. She could assume that either Andrew was either well respected here (which she still had no idea of where 'here' was) or that he was just the leader. "Take me," she began after a moment of thinking, watching the man as he began to wrap the knife wound, lifting the dual wield sword back up to him. "To this Andrew."

The man's brown eyes flickered up to hers, a brief flash of panic glistening through them. "You want me to take you to... Andrew?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who Andrew is?" A cocky smile grew on the man's face as he finished the bandage, leaning forward as he propped his arm against his knee. "You don't do you? Outta all of this people in this camp, this settlement I suppose, Andrew is the last person that you want to meet."

"Take." Fury took a step forward, growling. "Me." She pressed the tip of the blade into the man's throat, causing his eyes to narrow and lean back more into the crates he was resting against. "To." A small trail of blood dripped from the cut she had just made. "Andrew," she spat. Not a single bit of guilt crossed through her; the man brought it upon himself.

His gaze studied her for a moment as another droplet of blood followed the first one to the collar of his shirt. "Fine," he snarled. "I'll take you to Andrew. Damn over-demanding bitch."

Fury pulled the sword back and glared at the man as he struggled to stand. Once he was standing, he was hunched slightly, teeth visibly clenched from pain as he kept a hand clamped over his newest wound. Guilt or sympathy failed to flare through Fury as she slowly followed the limping man as he exited the tent with a grumble, calling out to someone, "Bring Andrew here! That crazy bitch that Shel and Anin found is up!"

"Stop calling... me... that..." Fury's sentence stumbled to an end as she stepped out of the tent.

The noise that she had heard inside of the tent literally froze when one person saw her, who elbowed another beside them until everyone in her sight had halted. Even the animals seemed to be looking at her. Tents and temporary houses surrounded her, overwhelming her with their sheer number. Laundry blew in the wind, people sat outside, cleaning a variety of guns and other weapons, young children kept hold of their mother's clothes, and people doing whatever stopped completely. The diversity of people were insane; any kind of human that she could think of was standing in front of her, all with stained clothes, blank expressionless faces, and doing some sort of job. If Fury looked close enough, some of the trees on the outskirts of the little camp, had little huts that might hold one or two people -guards. The animals included any sort of farm stock -a rooster didn't get the memo and clucked as it strutted by her- and she saw a bird sitting on a tent above where six people were standing, blue eyes staring at her as it cases softly, ruffling its black feathers.

It wasn't until the bird, which she recognized as a raven after a few moments, flew down to land on the shoulder of a woman that she noticed the people gathered before a dark green tent. They were looking at her (what a surprise) but she couldn't help but to notice how they had an air of authority to them. She knew two already; Shel and Zakee were both there. Shel had traded the thick bear designed armor that Fury had first seem her in and now wore a pink t-shirt that had seen better days, ripped jeans, and boots. Zakee wore no shirt, exposing his massively wrapped chest, but had on a pair of jeans with boots. His face still bore the bruises from where he had been tortured in that cave.

However, standing with Shel and Zakee, were four others that Fury had never met. The first she noticed was the only other woman in the group and that was just because the raven had rested on her shoulder. The woman was... average. Compared to Shel, she was adorably small with a lean, almost childish frame. Her facial features were average, nothing pretty but nothing ugly, that were a brilliant sky blue that popped out even more by the blue of her outfit. Straw colored hair was pulled back into a small ponytail that just reached her shoulders. She was rather short -hopefully Fury was taller than her- and the raven and hers relation reminded Fury a lot of Death and Dust.

Standing beside her was an old man. Gray hair fell about his aged face, framing the once strong and handsome features, and his brown eyes judging as they stared at her. It was pretty obvious that he had shrunk slightly from age, but he was still of good height, probably standing easily another foot over her. His blue and red uniform was clean and polished nicely, one side of his chest decorated with medals from whatever past achievements he had made. One hand rested on a saber, the hilt being decorated with an elaborate set of designs that Fury had never once seen before in any specimen she knew.

Behind the old man was a younger man sitting on a barrel, his shoulders hunched as he leaned forward, the frizzy, greasy black curls of his hair falling down over most of his face. From what Fury could make out, his countenance was sharper than a knife, his eyes wide behind his hair and his thin lips moving as if chanting some kind of prayer. He was rocking back and forth slightly; maybe he was troubled? The colors of his military styled suit matched that of the old man's, but instead had captain stripes marking his shoulders. An older version of what Fury knew was a human rifle was propped against the side of the barrel he was sitting on. The holster of a pistol visibly peaked out from his hip. His hands, which twitched occasionally, were scarred and battered. An uneasy feeling grew in Fury's stomach just looking at him.

It was the last man that seemed to stain himself in her mind. Authority drifted off him in overwhelming amounts of waves as he stood there with his arms crossed and a curious expression painted on his face. There was something... different about him. Though human, there appeared to be an aura of.... Fury tried to place the almost salty tang of what flowed off the man in insane amounts. Interest arose in her as she studied his handsome features, his intense hazel eyes, his blond hair that was pulled back into a neat, small ponytail, the small bit of hair that was on his chin. He was leaner built than the other three men standing there, but the muscles were still there in his arms. He wore a dull orange shirt with a random check-like mark on the front of it with tan pants and boots like everyone else. But everything about him was... different. It was the best way that she could describe him. Besides from being handsome.

I'm awfully flattered that you seem to think so. I'm sure that you will notice what's different about me soon enough; most people don't realize it for a while, however.

Fury froze.

The man smiled at her, being the first out of the crowd of people around to move as he grasped his chin in one hand. I'll let it sink in for a few seconds, Horsewoman. I know who you are, why you are here on Earth, and how you got here. Just think. Let it settle. Take your time, Fury.

A telepath. He was a damned telepath. A telepathic.

She stumbled back a few steps, utterly surprised, and was caught by someone who gently pried the dual wield sword from her hand. A telepath. What the hell was one of those doing here? Fury had only met very few, and she had traveled from the gates of Heaven to the outskirts of Hell several times. No human, that she knew of, was capable of having such powers. Perhaps she was wrong in assuming that the man was human. Fury was hardly ever wrong -she had studied in the greatest libraries around the universe for the knowledge that she currently had; no silly human could break those boundaries.

With a small gesture of his hand, the man motioned for her to be brought forward. Like a spell had been broken, the people that had stopped to stare at her began to move again, the noises returning with full power as they managed to create a path to the six apparent leaders of the campground. The person that had a hold of her arm nudged her forward. "He's not that scary," they said and Fury recognized Anin's cheerful voice. She glanced at him, half tempted to slap the wide smile on his voice and sparkling eyes, but decided against it when she saw the blond man from inside the tent following them, eyes narrowed as he kept a hand on one of his dual wield swords.

"Who is he?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice down as they approached the telepathic and his little group.

She noticed Anin's hesitancy immediately. She wondered briefly if the telepathic had anything to do with it. "He's a nice man," the dark haired man slowly said. "We owe everything to him here. Every single tent, every weapon, everything that you see he made possible here. If it wasn't for him... We would probably all be dead."

"What'd he do?"

"Stop asking such stupid damn questions, bitch." Fury stumbled a few steps when the blond man shoved at her shoulder with a scowl. "Every question will be answered if you just shut your damn mouth."

A snapping noise came from the group of six people and Fury was half surprised to see Zakee suddenly standing in front of her when she turned back around. She halted quickly; Anin made a small squeaking noise when he failed to notice and bumped into her back. It was hard to miss the fury dancing in Zakee's light green eyes. It was even harder to miss the layers of bandages that had been wrapped about his muscular torso, the blood that was already staining the linen, or the large scar peeking out by the left side of his collar bone. A twitch occasionally caused his cheek to move and his eyebrow was lifted threateningly.

"What was that, Silas?"

That's his name. Fury glanced at the blond that was scowling nearby, his shoulders tensed as he glared up at the large man towering above them all. She took note of the hatred that flowed both ways between the two of them.

"I do believe that you were threatening this woman." A dangerous tone had grown in Zakee's voice and he placed a hand on Fury's shoulder. "Unless you have something else to say, I think that you should leave and let the Commanders do their thing."

"Right," sneered Silas as he turned and stumbled away.

"Jackass," Zakee grunted as soon as the other wounded man was out of hearing range, already beginning to usher Fury up the remaining bit of the little hill where the others were standing.

Anin, who had yet to leave them, looked down back at the place where Silas had disappeared into the crowd of people. "I still don't understand why you two hate each other."

The muscular of the two rolled his eyes. "He dated one of my sisters."

"Which one? The littlest one with blonde hair? Or the one with black hair? Or both? Because I can totally see Silas trying to get both of them-"

A slapping sound came behind her and Fury jumped at the noise, stopping to find Anin struggling to remove Zakee's massive hand from his face. Again, the murderous glint was back in Zakee's eyes. "Don't you dare talk about my sisters like that," he warned.

"I-I wasn't!" Anin managed to splutter. "Dude! I can't breathe!"

"Zakee!"

Shel motioned for them to approach. Hesitant, Fury remained where she was as Zakee lumbered up the hill, still obviously annoyed as he rolled and popped his large shoulders. Anin followed a few seconds later, bouncing into place beside Shel with a large smile. Fury nervously looked between the others. The closest to her was the blonde girl, who was gazing at her curiously as her bird clicked his beak together aggressively. The old man was standing beside her as the rocking man continued by the tent in whatever world he was in. Zakee, Shel, and Anin stood to the left of the telepathic man. He stood in the middle. It was like one of those war tables; everyone had a place to be and proudly took that stop. She was out of place here.

"Welcome." The telepathic man's voice startled her and her gaze snapped back to him. He had opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and a smile touched his face, pulling slightly at his dimples. How cute. "I do believe that you are curious to know how we are, right?"

"It's not like you can't read my mind," Fury replied dryly.

Her comment didn't seem to faze him. "Introductions are needed," he continued and gestured to the three on his left, causing Fury to lift a brow. "You never truly met them."

Shel approached her first, grabbing her hand with a grip like steel and particularly flinging Fury's arm out of socket when Shel shook it.  "I'm Shel. I command the soldiers around here. Born in Louisiana and fought through shit, Hell, and marshes to get up here."

"I'm her best friend!" Anin darted in front of the Horsewoman the second that Shel stepped aside, enveloping Fury in a huge hug. A startled gasp escaped her and she rose her hands defensively once he released her, only to have him grab them both to give them a few shakes as he beamed at her. "I'm Anin! Shel found me somewhere in those marshes and I tagged along with her!"

"Against my choice."

"Anyway, I make sure the land and stuff like that. You want to get to Alaska, I can get you there. You wanna go to Japan, I can find a way there. You wanna go anywhere and we'll get there. I've been everywhere on boat, foot, horse, griffin, Minotaur, Giant, dragon-"

"She gets it, Anin." Zakee nudged the talkative man aside and offered Fury a hand. Cautiously, she placed hers in his and he gave it a gentle shake. "I'm Zakee. I'm the right hand around here. Got a problem with anything, with anyone," he added with a small wink, "and I'll take care of it."

When Zakee moved away, Fury half expected the telepathic man to approach her. Instead, the blonde girl walked up, a welcoming smile pulling across her lips as she stopped in front of Fury even though her raven was still glaring at the Black Rider with a murderous gaze. "Hi, my name is Carina, the left hand, and the bird is Soren." Fire in different shades of blue sparked from the woman's fingers and Fury jumped back in surprise. Carina laughed at her reaction. "Sorry! It won't hurt you! It comes natural being an Auralin and all."

Interested now, Fury stared at Carina for a moment. "An Auralin... I thought they died off when Kayden passed."

The change in the girl -she couldn't much older than her earlier twenties compared to a human- was instant. Her smile faltered before it disappeared all together and the hand she had been offering to Fury fell, Soren once again clanking his beak together threateningly. Carina straightened slowly, obviously now in a much darker mood. "There is one more left."

Before Fury could apologize for bringing up something so soft to Carina, the girl had backed the protective stance of the oldest man there. Arms crossed and his head tilted back slightly, he didn't appear to be very happy. "I am Tama." Fur waited for him to give a brief description of himself but the man failed to continue, instead pointing at the man rocking back and forth still on the barrel nearby. "That is Kezz, my bodyguard. I suggest you be careful in his presence and watch what you do. He doesn't like it when people he knows are hurt."

"I didn't mean-" Fury started to defend herself, but Carina beat her to it.

"She know Tama." The girl's voice almost seemed broken now and unshed tears were in her sky blue eyes as she patted Tama's arm. "Cut her some slack."

Tama sent her a glare in response.

"Since that is out of the way," began the telepathic man, attracting everyone's attention back to him as he stepped toward Fury. "I am Andrew. I created the camp that you're in, Horsewoman." Fury stared at him. "Everything here was made by the hands that you see around you. We take in refugees and fight back against Heaven and Hell on our planet."

The Horsewoman stared at him, noticing the pride that washed off him of this place that he had created. "You're only going to kill these people. Human's stand no chance against the Kingdoms. You weren't prepared the first time and have yet to recover."

"That's your opinion." The statement caught her off guard and she watched carefully as Andrew waved his hand once. A plant emerged near his foot; it grew until a brilliant red rose bloomed, glowing with health. He plucked it and handed it to her, ignoring the confused stare that Fury was giving him as he shrugged like making a flower appear out of no where wasn't a big deal. "The End War... awaken things here that haven't been for a while. For example, there are people amongst us who are vampires." Fury lifted an eyebrow and shot a look at Anin. "Not him. He's just naturally that pale."

"Hey!"

"I am a warlock." Andrew smiled at her surprised stare.

"No warlock can read people's minds," Fury stammered.

Andrew shrugged. "It just takes practice. But we've gotten stronger as the Kingdom of Man, Horsewoman. And, besides," he waved a hand absentmindedly. "You're the one with problems right now? The Charred Council's disappearance? How about your current state of being a human?" He leaned toward her, emerald green eyes sparkling with a mischievous nature. "You need our help."

"I don't need anyone's help."

A smile grew across his lips. "You say that now, but that might change in a few days."