§tain | chapter nine ~ "hiya numb nuts"

~I did something bad - Taylor Swift ~

She blended with the darkness, creeping and watching over the ones who cowered in each other's arms, Hank and Dawn. Before deciding, the man threatened them with the looks of a garden tool, just as the fun was about to begin. It was funny to being overshadowed by someone else who effortlessly struck such terror among men, but she was the world's worst nightmare. A vision pulled from the depths of the hell, and thus the overwhelming ugliness rising high above them all. Should they ever feel fear towards anything, then it was her. The hero killer, Stain. The slayer of hope and harbinger of death. She conjured her weapon as she got closer to the leader and finally struck.

~

There were no holds barred when the men put their weapons on her and shot. Gracefully and easily, as a feline, Jade climbed to her feet, twirling her scythe about her body in smooth, lethal motions, and with great ferocity. Her form was powerful, both the blades on either side were blocking any projectile bullet that passed and then up to the very last. She took up the weapon and leapt. Her body was arching, cutting through the air, throwing her weight and driving a blade home. In a single, powerful slicing motion, the guns split in half. The jagged metal barrels clanged onto the concrete floor as the ex-hero killer caught herself in a roll. She came out of it in threes, and the weapon she wielded looked menacingly extended, glinting underneath where the patches of moonlight streamed through the dusty glass of the skylight.

Dawn remained where she stood, Hank trying to pull her away, but she remained frozen in place. Shock played through her like icy fingers, sending up her spine with an indicative shock. Before she didn't want to believe the news people earlier or the very shoddy video they'd shown on the evening news. Hell, she didn't want to believe right now. And yet, Jade, she was there, ready to kill. In that moment, Dawn realized that everything had reached her all at once. Years on end, full of heartache and betrayal and broken promises. A wave of nausea follows the pale blonde's eyes rested on the headless man's body, still pooling blood, and then doubled as if someone had punched her in the gut and dry heaved. She could taste the carrots and the parsley from the dinner she had caught at the back of her throat, wanting to come up.

"Dawn." Hank's alarmed voice dared to pierce this bleak period of his tingling anxiety. As the tight grip on her arm stabilized her current state of imbalance, but held something more. A certain significance worthy of her immediate gratitude. He was on her side. Well, there. However, Dawn did not recognize his presence. Her focus never strayed from the woman with her face painted in the blood of her victims, watching as she easily cut down those proud men who lunged at her using her scythe, as if they were corn stalks. At the end of this, there is no hope of ensuring their survival. They have become easy targets within Jade's sights with no form of protection. The men will die mercilessly at her hand. Foolish and stripped of pride and dignity.

Two of them tried to cross her path, carrying no common sense. One of them tried to throw a punch at her jaw while the other reached in for her chest. Jade was turning right, the figure becoming more than a flash of red light. She let them have a ram in each other. Their blows bounced off each other, skittering them back. They yowled like wounded animals, but didn't have time to recover as quickly as her hand twirled and an uncommon weapon appeared. The scythe, great and expendable, was now a dual-edged knife, the length of her arm.

In a deadly swipe across the guy before her using one end, his throat split open like a Broadhurst ready to serve, followed by crimson trails. When he had fallen down, she whirled around and climbed up the second man like his body was a flight of stairs. She jabbed the other end in his eye. Air left him as his body went limp. Jade released him, and he was lifeless on the ground. His eye had got a glossy sheen, while his damaged other still had a knife sticking through it before vanishing and leaving behind a nasty and bloody gaping hole.

Immediately out of nowhere, a crash came from above, and broken glass sprinkled down. No one saw what caused such an uprooted devastation that they were busy ducking for the cover. But when all was still, and the fighting ceased, they waited-waited and experienced chills. Such as the character would have in a beloved eighties slasher movie. Careless and painfully oblivious to whatever lurked in the darkness, ready to pounce the minute the chance felt exposed. 

Just as the suspense became even more agonizing, something sharp whizzed by Jade's head and caught the guy in the eye behind her. He went down hollering, his hands hovering over the bloodied R-shaped weapon. Wait a minute, r-shaped? The pale blond did a double take, blinking to make sure she perceived anything. It was still there after the second time. Dawn was glad to know that she hadn't lost her mind completely. Only the person she knew was infamous for carrying that kind of stuff.

Stealing the moment, arms pierced the vast gloom surrounding them, yanking a man in. There was a tearing, popping sound of ligaments as they split, following an eardrum shattering shriek.

Beguiling, bewitching, and exceedingly disturbing, Dawn watched the undertaking, which at first seemed very genuine, until time had passed, and its destructive, vile wings had unfolded. The hope and optimism she had put on him, and the trust and belief that Dawn had shattered just like a glass of skylight. Broken, unfulfilled. Seeing him taking down those guys, too, without even a shed of modesty, filled her with extreme horror and disgust, but above all, shock. Shock at how easily his old self seemed gone, as he had told her before. 

Something dark and unrecognizable overtook it. A Jade in disguise, corrosive and bloodthirsty. The underlying awareness push the hell out of her. The violent disturbance of her mind, of her emotions paralyzed her, which caused phenomenal devastation. Otherwise well-planted or badly uncoordinated, their provocation was diabolical. Unimaginable carnage created beyond reparation, suffering that overshadowed all terms.

In one slash of her long broadsword, wrapped in a reddish hue, Jade's opponent's abdomen opened. His intestines spewed on the floor in pinkish brown coils. He went down, deader than a fish exposed to the sun. The air picked up the smell of a butcher shop.

She twirled, and the sword re-materialized in her hand as it was a sickle, and she hit flesh, soft and pudgy. Belonging to the guy who brushed up against her with his switchblade and made a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade plunged deep enough to force a scream past her victim's lips.

Straight away, he lowered his it as the ex-hero killer twisted the sickle, all the while sinking deeper and deeper, a sinister gleam in her eyes. His skin ripped to shreds as the blade moved, and the sound of his muscles and nerves became louder and louder. Without warning, Jade jerked it all the way to his back, until the metal disappeared inside him, and the handle pushed against his broken skin.

His scream was a horrific sound, guttural chokes combined with an agonized roar. Jade smirked and took the sickle out of her now deadly white victim. Lying on his back, the stream of his source of life gushed out in all directions, coloring her scarlet. She crouched before him as his appeal for help grew softer. The scent of blood filled the air and tingled in Dawn's nostrils. Jade's fingertips grasped and softly caressed the dying man's cheek, but there was nothing compassionate in the gesture. Her lips pressed with a smile. She bent down and whispered something quietly in her ear.

The man's eyes were wide as saucers as she raised his head, took him by the neck, and with her jaw unhinged, ripped his throat with her teeth. He cried, convulsed, and trembled like a rabid animal, as thick blood flowed freely from the gaping hole in his neck that Jade's teeth gnawed mercilessly.

Nausea began creeping up her throat. Dawn was attempting to stop the rise of bile. Be powerful, she said to herself, don't show them your weakness. But it was too late, unfortunately. Lurching forward, bits of undigested supper spewed out of her mouth and nose. As her stomach clenched violently, she forced everything up and onto the concrete floors. Her skin was white as a sheet, her face dripped bile, sweat, and tears through her goggles. She fell to her hands and knees, the pungent stench of carrots and parsley still sticking to her nose, mingling with the scent of gore making her heave even when little seemed left to go.

But there was something, both round and solid, stuck in her throat, causing her to choke. She gagged, coughed it out, and watched as it plopped into the sick puddle. Blinking, Dawn took a few seconds to place its source as it appeared covered in Ick. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and familiarity ebbed her brain as soon as she took its recognizable form. Then she realized, rendering her body still. She didn't expect to see it so soon, not until she was at least home, anyway. And yet it was there, lying in her disgusting vomit pool, mocking her for her apparent idiocy.

Though she didn't have time to wallow in her sea of crippling remorse, because that was when Hank softly put his hand on her shoulder. Fear spiked her bloodstream like a tequila shot, and the paresthesias settled in. Did he see it? Did he see what she had done? The frantic questions replayed again as the image of meeting his eyes only to find the connection and burning resentment of a misunderstanding tattooed her brain. Hell on the wheels. That's exactly what this sensation felt like. Even when she hadn't seen his expression yet. Just hurting him made her want to curl up and die.

She screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the harsh growl to wrap around her name, replacing the usual soft-spoken way he said it. Dawn would not face him and his dark, implacable look, and harsh, fluctuating tone when he demanded for answers. But it never came as she waited. Her eyes burst wide, seeing that he kept his attention away from her, but not for the same purpose that she thought. The pale blond saw his tight, wrinkled, disgusted features and his nose scrunched. Hank couldn't bear to look at her, but only because of his extreme aversion to vomit, which she eventually discovered. Considering that he had a weak stomach for most of his existence to all thing body- related.

If any bones had to break or blood had to spill, he was as peachy as a jelly bean. But when he was in the presence of someone spewing their latest meal across the floor, he became obligated to clear his own stomach. Hank shocked her with how long he held it out, but then his focus had diverted elsewhere. Trained on the woman happily enjoying her latest meal. He stared at her as if he had fully expected a bolt of lighting to come down upon her head, and to render her dead, a fate she deserved. Especially after all the death and destruction she has caused.

The pair cautiously emerged from their hiding spot, avoiding the mess that Dawn had left behind. The discovery of the physical reality of Gotham's notorious hero-killer was still on her mind. Her pain had persisted over for a long time, but revulsion took its place. Anger drove fast, shooting straight for the cliff's edge.

Dick eventually came back, running from wherever he came from, and went to get her off of the dead man. Dawn glared as they fervently exchanged words, wishing she could spit venom at their feet. She explicitly told him not to get entangled with the most prominent of Gotham's villains, but as always, everything you tell him goes through the other ear. Typical Dick Grayson, man. Stubborn and equipped with too much pride to make the right moves, like Bruce.

He held Jade to arm's length, shaking whatever sense he could in her, while unquestionably berating her in-gregarious nature as if she were his child, who had behaved unacceptably. While, unlike others, she did not cast her head down like she was ashamed of herself. Her head raised high, lowering her intense gaze as she sucked the blood from her fingertips provocatively.

Dawn took advantage of their assertion to look at the bodies belonging to those brutally slaughtered by the couple. Most of them had spread out like ghoulish mannequins, their esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looked as though the special effects teams had been working overnight on a "Nightmare On Elm Street" movie set, but the smell ... the smell will come from those recently killed with bodies still warm and blood thickening but not yet dry on their waxy skin.

It'll probably be weeks before anyone will find them all rotted and decomposed. Yeah, what a ball MPD would have to find this out. Jade's style of killing was almost never identifiable. It was sloppy and unbridled, but mostly clever and a pattern-less. They will relate nothing to her. For all they knew, she was still dead in the world, and all these murders were in the hands of another rival gang.

Suddenly, Jade yanked from his grasp, grinning wickedly with her crimson-stained teeth. Nausea rolled along Dawn's stomach like a churning tide that was ready to resume the terrible mess again. She swallowed the burning in her throat, but could not ease her pounding heart as the ex-hero killer whispered something enticing to the detective, then locked eyes with them. For a moment, the pale blond could feel the hypnotic pull of those familiar brown eyes of hazel, glinting with mischief that promised so much agony and misery that she would ensue.

They have seen every unspeakable act she has undertaken without a second thought. But the worst of all, they're knowing eyes-the eyes that really understood a person better than they understood themselves. Dissecting each layer and figuring out what the inner workings transpired under the surface of emotionally disturbed perpetrators of their own self-indulgence. One thing for sure, they knew her. Dawn discovered that years ago, a time when she allowed the bloodthirsty, soulless heathen to overcome her. Not exactly her finest moment. When she thought about it, The way Jade's eyes locked her in close, seemed endlessly teasing. Dawn, irritated, was the first to sever the prolonged link between the two of them.

Headed their way, her unflinching footfalls echoed the vast ancient walls of the building. Her blood ran cold as the goose bumps scattered on her skin. Something in the way Jade walked, her hips swaying, her long legs straight and as assertive as her steps, just didn't sit right with Dawn. She was sensing trouble. The worst kind that will end with someone dead. The ex-hero killer came to a heart-stopping halt before she reached the hood off of her head, and her pale brown face unveiled as long dark braids fell down her back and over her shoulder.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" Her slithering voice spoke, erratic, bouncing from the walls as she looked from Hank to Dawn and then back to Hank. It's like she was playing a 'Wheel of Fortune' round, trying to solve the puzzle and win the final grand prize trip to Barcelona. However, this was more who she would insult first and gain a reaction out of. "The hero wannabes who came from the ground but never up."

"Hiya, numb nuts." She said to Hank, her grin stretching. "Did ya miss me?"

Funny, the word rolled off her tongue so easily used as a weapon to cut down those she loathed to size. Hank was going rigid by her side when he heard it. His hand in hers, she could feel the heat radiating off from his skin. Rarely did he display emotion beyond boredom or friendly curiosity in her or alcoholic beverages. Otherwise, he kept to himself, and only himself. It was around Jade that he was a ticking time bomb. Any provocation, no matter how small it may be, would blow his temper. Dawn shook his hand reassuringly, coaxing his growing frustration.

Hank's searing gaze averted over to the detective who tailed the ex-hero killer. "Why the fuck is she here?"

Before Dick could speak, Jade shoved him out of the way, "Isn't it obvious? I just helped saved your worthless life, bitchass."

"And what? That's supposed to mean something to me." He deadpanned, looking at her.

"Yes, it should. You've got to keep your balls. So I believe a 'thank you' is in order. Especially to Dick here, since he convinced me that your ungrateful ass were worth saving in the first place." She spat, nodding to the annoyed ex-vigilante who kept reaching for her, but Jade ultimately shook him off.

"Oh, right?" Dawn's boyfriend glared at her. His eyes were boring in her hazel orbs, packed with the same amount of scorn and vehemence. "Well, I would have let that maniac snip out of my dick if I had known that you both were coming to rescue Dawn and I." Every word is over-pronounced, slicing rather than tumbling dry air. Hank had pushed him close without realizing it. He was only a breath away from the ex-hero killer, with more seconds to go before he snapped. And Dawn knew just how stubborn he really was. If he were to spring on Jade, she would then snapped his neck without having to lift a finger. Hank, however, would not care as long as his pride was unscathed. If he goes down, he will do it swinging.

Jade folded her arms over her chest. She wasn't afraid of his wrath, or him. The more he advanced, however, the more fire in her eyes grew to threaten to test the boundaries of Hank's tolerance. She licked her lips, smiled, and lowered her eyes to the floor, then returned to look at him. " I may not be the ideal savior, but at least I don't waste time convincing myself that I am  either like you ..." she searched him briefly, smirking, muttering, "... coke whore."

Dawn felt his hand clenched in a tight fist and pulled out of hers when she saw his jaw go slack. Her stomach dropped, Uh-oh. "What did you call me?" his voice was a low stir, simmering like a pot of stew ready to boil. She wanted to believe that it could only get worse from here, but then she knew better. Hank was a goner.

"You heard me, junkie. Which is all you'll ever be." Dick palmed his face, Dawn could only imagine the names he came up with for the ex-hero killer. But at that moment, no amount of strength the pale blond possessed could hold Hank back. He quickly broke away from her, and was upon Jade, wanting to pound her into a pulp. "That's it, you overrated grim reaping psycho bitch, I'm going to-"

"Do what?" Jade closed the scant distance left between them with only one step, her arms still crossed over her chest, her eyes dancing with their unblemished flames. "Eviscerate me? That's how I get a taste of my own medicine, right? For taking lives, stripping people of their sense of security as I do? Go ahead. No one here is stopping you from acting on your revenge." her words started with an unexpected pause. He was staring at her, angry, wanting nothing more than to do exactly what she said. It was tempting, even for Dawn. No one would ever miss the user. Her death would not mean shit to the world, given that she was, and they had already believed that her dead body had not yet found. But then the common sense of the matter kicked in.

Jade wasn't the one who could die, just like that. She was a little too slippery, too careful. Evading death as if she were immune. And second, killing her. If that were a possibility, it would also mean stooping to her level of cruelty and negligence. It would have made Hank into what she was, a murder. He appeared to be considering his choices and the repercussions that followed. It appeared as though he was thinking of murdering her in cold blood, and Dawn had already played the outcome of Jade tearing out his spine at the end.

Fear ebbed her frantic thoughts. She sent a steely glare to Dick, yelling, "Do something." He didn't see her eyes. He stood back, glancing between the two at odds as if they were alley cats battling over garbage. Knowing that it was best to stay out of their way. His silence suggested that she should do the same. Dawn strung a number of names she wished she could call him because of his lack of responsibility and intervention. He was the one who brought Jade here, and yet he was gussying out the minute things went to shit.

"I thought so." Jade eventually said, halting Dawn's thinking process and going back to their ugly exchange. "You don't have it in you to kill. You 're still that frightened little boy pretending to play hero, but still trapped in the dark realizing that no one will ever come to save you, no matter how loud you scream-"

Her neck flayed backward like a willow tree caught in the wind, but she laughed as she staggered back and fall onto her ass. Hank panted. Her blood smeared across the knuckles of his gloved hand, still drawn in the fist. Jade rubbed her jaw, scarlet tailed from her nose to her lips and to her chin. "You throw a punch that would make Superman proud." Laughing,  she slobbered the red on the ground, red stains  her teeth. "But I cut off his arms and sold them to the highest bidder ...... I wonder where that puts you?"

Punching her wasn't enough, Dawn saw it in his eyes. But for his betterment, she knew it would have to be. They glared at each other, unflinching and filled with hate. Dick pulled Jade up to her feet and away from the seething six-foot male.

"That freak belongs to Arkam, Dick, either that or dead." Hank pointed an accusatory finger at her as she was being pushed behind the detective. 

"And you're a whiny little bitch, but do you see me complaining?" she said, pushing Dick out of the way.

"Let it go, Hank." Dawn said coming up beside him. 

"Oh, gosh, it talks." Jade gasped, clapping both of her hands over her cheeks. "I guess that means I don't have to adopt a dog because there's already a bitch in the room."

"You have no room to talk—"

That's enough of both of you." He hissed harshly, glaring disdainfully at them all. "She is right, you know," Dick said. "We've saved your lives."

Dawn stared back at him. It would be much easier to put an end to this petty dispute between the four of them and praise the two for saving her and Hank. This way they could leave with their lives and retire to Wisconsin, packed up in a cozy little cabin, tend horses and give lessons to those who're committed to riding just as Hank originally planned for them. Dawn knew better, though. How could she move on now, realizing that Jade was alive, and on the loose, likely back to her old ways?

There was no chance in hell that she committed to this rescue mission because she valued them and their friendship. This wasn't a hit TV sitcom where they were a tightly knit group that comically approached problems in their lives or were constantly in each other's business.

The bitch had a motive, Dawn knew it. Who would be to pretend that none of this was worth her concern and move forward as if she had earned the right? A fool, that is. And she was far from that. A few days earlier, she remembered when they sat down and he explained how he had retired as Batman's sidekick. How Bruce did a number on him and brought about the darkness that completely changed him. She couldn't believe it at first. Believe that he, 'Boy Wonder,' someone genuinely aspires, a fighter through and through who gave the word 'impossible' a new meaning, confessed that he had lost his way because of a scarred man who took him in and raised him; and giving him a purpose.

However, after tonight's events, she proved to be wrong. He wasn't the man Dawn was fond of, who inspired her to become the hero she was today. Dick had completely turned into something else. A creature that was unrecognizable, violent, bloodthirsty. Yet it wasn't just about Bruce. Dawn assumed that the ex-hero killer had played a hand in his grim turn. One thing for sure, that much seemed obvious in his eyes, and Jade's blood-stained, tempered smile.

"Dick..." Dawn began. He didn't pay her any mind. The ex-vigilante reached down and yanked the r-shaped batarang from one dead man's bloody eye socket and popped it back into the space on the chest armor of his suit. He sent her a look she couldn't decipher and gritted. "You're welcome." Then he took Jade by the arm and dragged out the building before Dawn thought to say anything else. But not fast enough for Jade to keep her comments to herself.

"Goodbye, wastes of mortal space." She called to them through Dick's constant struggle to force her out of the door. "Perhaps the next time we see each other, it'll be in your nightmares." She's gone with a last shove, and him behind her.

"Fucking freak." Hank muttered under his breath for only him and Dawn to hear.

Dawn's increasing anxiety has followed them through the exit. Jade screwed them over a long time ago, and they all paid for it. Needless to say, history isn't repeating itself right now.

~
Author's  Note

There you guys go. Chapter nine. Chapter ten will be up soon. Promise. Stay safe loves.