theresalwayshope | 015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

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[When the scream rings out, Allison drops like a lead weight.

It's a sound she knows well, the banshee's howl. It's painful, it's terrible, and it's terrifying because she's helpless. She would fear a dupe, if she hadn't smelled Lydia personally, if she hadn't known her for the short time they ran together...

As it is, she can't think of anything. The scream won't allow for it.

She regains awareness in the middle of the earthquake and the dark, confused and terrified and totally without direction.

Something breaks. The dark is endless.

Then...it's over.

Blinking against the sudden light, Allison flinches at the assault of new sights and sounds. She's in a room she doesn't know...a living room space, warm and neat yet lived in.

Her nostrils flare, sorting through the scents: human (Allison), rabbit, hay. There's gun oil, lead and gunpowder (bullets), the distant smells of cosmetics and breath mints and old traces of her father's aftershave. Turning in a slow circle, she spots pictures on one wall, photos of her...and on the coffee table, she takes note of a folding combat knife sitting next to some magazines.

Reaching out, she picks it up...flicks it open, then shut again.

All clues point to this space...belonging to her somehow, but there are weapons in it.

Tucking the knife into the back of her jeans, she fumbles in her pockets, looking for her comm. Finding it, her hands shake as she flicks it on, her face filling the feed a moment later. The fear is open on her features...and those that know Allison Argent well, as well as those who met her in the arena, may note enough differences in her demeanor to determine that something's very wrong.]

Everyone in the pack, please check in...I think there's something wrong.

[Allison kills the feed, then puts her comm back in her pocket, venturing cautiously out of her cabin. The doors in the corridor are familiar, but somehow wrong...

The number on the door matches. The infirmary is just down the hall. There is no question in her mind, this is her cabin. If not for the strange doors and the absence of her old room at home behind her door, she'd have sworn this was her Barge.

But, as she goes cautiously investigating the different levels of the ship (excluding warden areas at first, because she obviously doesn't have access), she slowly comes to realize that she's not where she belongs.

This ship is not the Barge she knows.]

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[Duke Crocker...brother, friend. She doesn't see how that's possible, but she has to remind herself that this isn't her ship.

And, apparently, this isn't her Zane.

She takes a deep breath, looking to the dog on the ground. The dog is still placid, but sitting now and staring up at her intently...no, not her, the bunny.

On a hunch, Allison kneels. The bunny, Duchess, is still growling and tense on her shoulder, but when she stoops the dog plants her paws on Allison's knee. She sniffs at Duchess and snuffles, which results in the bunny going silent. There's some whining from the dog, and a couple of licks, but when she drops back onto the floor with a bark, Duchess is far more relaxed.

She looks between the two, then up at Zane.]

I think these two have bonded...yes, I'll take care of Duchess. And the other--Johnny. [She offers the dog her hand, and gets a favorable lick, making her smile.]

I think she'll help me.

[ This is good.

Zane relaxes, and steps back, letting the two animals interact. Allison is safe. He's almost convinced of it. The offer that she made to protect people in the arena helped, but it's not enough - anything can be a trap. ]

I'll check on them.

I can tell you how to take care of them properly, too.

[ Because protection and love aren't enough. There has to be fresh straw, and a healthy amount of exercise every day. ]

I'd appreciate that, thank you.

[She regards Zane curiously, smiling at him with a bright and unabashed sort of pleasure when she breathes in that warm, pleasing mixture of affection and fear, the worry of a parent for children.]

You're a very nice man, Zane. [She says it with a bemused sort of happiness, enjoying the luxury of not having to fear him.] I'm...not used to that.

You wouldn't be, on your Barge.

If you need help, I'll be here. [ It's a promise. He gives her his cabin number. ]

[She nods, committing his cabin number to memory as she shifts the rabbit in its place on her shoulder, drawing her closer to her neck. Only then does she finally start to make noises of contentment, chittering quietly in her ear and earning a soft rumble of approval from the dog.]

Thank you, Zane. [She pauses, glancing towards the room where Duke Crocker lays sleeping, feeling a flutter of fear.]

Is it...safe to leave Crocker here? No one will kill him while he's comatose?

[ He stares at her, for a long moment. ]

How can anyone function on that Barge?

[For a moment, Allison is taken off guard by the quiet exclamation...but just as quickly, she's smiling sadly. It both warms her heart and grieves her that her world is so unfathomable to him...grieves her, mostly, because she doesn't belong to this world.]

We don't...that's why we're inmates. It's when we learn to function that we graduate and become wardens.

[ Unfortunately, it's not so unfathomable. It's a lot more like his own world than this place was. But he would at least expect that self-interest would keep people in check. Keep them from bothering each other in comas. ]

When you learn ruthlessness, you mean.

That's not hard to learn. It's much harder to unlearn.

Not really...many animals are ruthless hunters. I'm one of them...I'm a werewolf, a predator.

[She turns to glance at Duchess on her shoulder, chittering peacefully. Her hand drifts up to stroke the soft, furry little creature. She smells delicious, if she would be a small meal, but she's not for eating. Allison can almost see why: it's nice to have her close, being able to reach up and stroke silky little ears.]

What they want me to be is a killer. [She hesitates, then presses her nose to Duchess's side. Her mouth waters, her chest tightens...

She will not kill her. No matter how hungry she gets.

Instead she kisses the little rabbit, who rewards her by turning to sniff her face. Allison sniffs her back, then snuffles like a dog when Duchess's whiskers tickle her nose. She giggles afterwards, glancing at Zane with a smile.]

Do you think she likes me?

I know she does.

When people become ruthless, that's what they become. We don't kill for food. We don't kill because of our natures. No matter what you are, you have the ability to think. And to channel your ruthlessness.

It might be that you're a killer already. You just choose not to be.

[Allison is noticing that Zane is very frank and to the point...and hearing him break down her own nature so simplistically really hits her hard.

Instinct doesn't work like that. She felt it in the beginning, that deep-seated and overwhelming compulsion to follow her animal nature...she still does, most days, but the drive to hunt and kill, the urges of the predator...those are choices. He's right about that.

It's just hard for her to wrap her head around, as much as she fears becoming that killer...it's difficult for her to see the weight of her own choices because, for Allison, choosing mercy over instinct is so painfully easy for her.]

So...does that mean you think that ruthless people can also be...good people?

I hope so.

[ Because he can be ruthless.

There is a part of him he keeps tightly, tightly leashed. That part can kill on command. Can become lethal in an instant. Staying gentle and loving and caring is easy, most of the time. But sometimes it's not enough. ]

015} now look up, well the skies are black {and they're getting darker all the time}

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