Post by Lilith on Sept 24, 2015 18:00:30 GMT -5
This had to be the worst version of a “witness protection program” ever devised.
To some extent, she deserved it. She had underestimated Famine greatly. Or, rather, she should not have tugged the tail of that particular beast. Left to her own devices, she would have been killed by that life-force manipulator. And while most would argue that being alive was a definite improvement over being dead, there were days when she had to kind of question that.
She had a little life of her own, now. Her hair was long and red now, and black had been mostly banned from her wardrobe. She had been given a job, too. How dull. There was probably a reason for it, but she really did not care. What she wanted was her control back.
She was little more than his toy now. Better than Sydney, who was more his backup generator, but still, she did not appreciate being told what to do… or having her abilities controlled remotely. Indeed, she had only the slightest access to her death manipulation. What if she had to defend herself? He had given her a gun, briefly shown her how to use it, and then left her on the streets of New York on her own.
So by day she was Lila Ashworth, secretary at the Manhattan headquarters of Reier Technologies. By night, she was whatever. Just not Lilith.
She did know how to drive, and was quite pleased to find a street racing organization underground. It took her a while to very quietly configure a respectable racer, but she finally did, and was allowed among their ranks. Half of them were kids. A shame.
“Nice ride,” one snickered as she pulled up in her car. On her budget she had been confined to very few options and she had gone with a Mazda MZ-6 Miata. In honesty, she would have rolled her eyes too, at appearances.
“It is. And I can change the gears all by myself.” She locked the car and headed up to where the participants were gathering. “Or did you think I was the one waving the flags around? I sense an overload of testosterone in the air.”
To some extent, she deserved it. She had underestimated Famine greatly. Or, rather, she should not have tugged the tail of that particular beast. Left to her own devices, she would have been killed by that life-force manipulator. And while most would argue that being alive was a definite improvement over being dead, there were days when she had to kind of question that.
She had a little life of her own, now. Her hair was long and red now, and black had been mostly banned from her wardrobe. She had been given a job, too. How dull. There was probably a reason for it, but she really did not care. What she wanted was her control back.
She was little more than his toy now. Better than Sydney, who was more his backup generator, but still, she did not appreciate being told what to do… or having her abilities controlled remotely. Indeed, she had only the slightest access to her death manipulation. What if she had to defend herself? He had given her a gun, briefly shown her how to use it, and then left her on the streets of New York on her own.
So by day she was Lila Ashworth, secretary at the Manhattan headquarters of Reier Technologies. By night, she was whatever. Just not Lilith.
She did know how to drive, and was quite pleased to find a street racing organization underground. It took her a while to very quietly configure a respectable racer, but she finally did, and was allowed among their ranks. Half of them were kids. A shame.
“Nice ride,” one snickered as she pulled up in her car. On her budget she had been confined to very few options and she had gone with a Mazda MZ-6 Miata. In honesty, she would have rolled her eyes too, at appearances.
“It is. And I can change the gears all by myself.” She locked the car and headed up to where the participants were gathering. “Or did you think I was the one waving the flags around? I sense an overload of testosterone in the air.”
