Fortress in the Ghetto

(Continued from A Trail of Blood )
Matthew stepped in front of his home. It looked to be falling apart. He pulled a key ring from his pocket and stepped inside, holding the door for Aveira. Once they were both inside, he closed and locked the door. The door had more than the standard two locks on it. The inside was at least much cleaner than outside. It was still a bit messy, but the mess was clean. To the left of the door was a couch, and opposite that was a television. Not a large one, nor a new one. To the left of the entertainment center the TV was in was another door which Matthew walked through. Through this door was a kitchen. He got himself a soft drink and returned to the first room. He looked at the bookshelf to the left of the couch., and then to Aveira. "Beverage?"

"Yes, it is," she said simply, glancing at his soda. She was looking around in interest, attempting to piece together a mental idea of him. The house was rather surprising. He probably made plenty of money. There was really no reason to live in such a shabby house.

"I was offering one before we go downstairs." He said plainly as he walked over to his bookcase. He pulled out a copy of Walden. He proceeded to open the book and pull a magazine for his gun out of a slot cut into the paper. "All this damned nonsense is good for..."

She grinned when she saw the book. "Not a fan of Thoreau? Neither am I." She walked closer and peered over his shoulder at the magazine. She wasn't really good with guns. She'd used them before and knew how to disarm them, but firing them just seemed too easy. She already had so many advantages over her opponents; it would be pointless to add one more. "I'm not particularly thirsty," she added.

"Then come with me." He slid the magazine into his gun, pulled back the slide and released it. He then clicked on the safety and walked into the kitchen. From there he opened a door that led into a staircase, which he took downstairs. It was one of those sets of wooden stairs that looks like it could fall at any moment, but once you step on it you realize that it's sturdy enough to hold several times your weight. From there Matthew walked over to a blank section of concrete wall. It had creases in the wall where the slabs of concrete had been put together. There was a small hole in the floor. He kneeled down and inserted a key into the hole. When he turned it, the slab of concrete nearest him moved inwards and then aside revealing an elevator. He stood and gestured for her to enter. "Ladies first."

She grinned slowly, positively delighted by this new revelation. She walked through happily, trailing her hands along the sides of the opening. She was still conscious of his loaded gun, but figured he wouldn't do anything to hurt her with it. Not yet, at least.

The elevator door closed and the began to descend. "You look pleased," commented Matthew. "That can only make me wonder how you'll feel about what you're about to see."

She glanced at him and giggled. "I am pleased. For a while I was a little disappointed," she teased.

The elevator reached the bottom. It wasn't too terribly far from the surface, but far enough. "My employer basically gave this facility to me after a while of working for them. I think it was a bonus for some contract I completed. See, I don't just do the small ones like you saw." The elevator doors opened. "Anyway, they hadn't used this in a while. So it's mine." He stepped out and fluorescent lights began turning on one by one. They were on the second story of the room they were in. It was a large room that had several hallways spaced at regular intervals on either side on either floor. Not too far in front of them was where one would either go down to the floor below, or go down to one of the hallways on either side. Another set of stairs was on the other side, but not an elevator. Everything about the room screamed atrium. "I plan on having something like this away from any city some day. But bigger. This has about the same square footage as a wal-mart or something. So a warehouse. You're looking at about half of it." Down on the floor there were display stands, and in the very center there was a circular desk which had a single chair, several computers, some paperwork, and some clear space. The display stands contained various items. Books, articles of clothing, even some odd looking weapons. The stands themselves were solid till they reached waist height. Then they became glass cases so that one could see from both sides. There was also a key hole on either side so that they could be opened. Some stands were built into the walls, and so they were just a glass case in the wall. Not all cases were filled, and which ones were seemed to be random. The only other very noticeable feature were the five columns, in the pattern of the five dots that are on dice. The center one was in the middle of the circular desk, but the desk was large enough to stand behind the chair and still be comfortable.

Aveira walked to the nearest display case and laid a hand on it. "What is all this?" she asked curiously. The room was absolutely amazing and she loved every inch of it. She was glad she'd followed this man after all. "The glass is blurring the image. I can't tell what's in here." She flexed her fingers, annoyed that she was unable to discern the contents. Being blind certainly had its disadvantages.

She turned her head toward the rest of the room, not really seeing, but getting a better understanding of the room. She got the impression of a large space. She could "see" several more display cases as well as the desk. She could hear the low hum of working computers. She could feel the still air that let her know she was deep underground. Unfortunately, her range was only about as good as normal sight, and things tended to go blank very suddenly at the edge of her "sight" instead of tapering off like normal vision.

"That contains a few antique swords. Some of my higher profile targets like to collect things. I take things that are nice if I can manage. I always take a trophy. Most of these cases have multiple items. Actually, only one has a single item and could easily fit more." He pointed to the trophy case closest to the center desk. "But they all have some meaning. Some of them are things I've just collected myself. The wall cases are reserved for big contracts, though." He paused. "I haven't quite figured out what kind of serial killer this makes me. I kill for money, but I take trophies, and I don't get off on looking at or holding my trophies."
Matthew walked towards the center desk slowly, looking at each case that had something in it.

She shrugged. "I've never met another serial killer before," she told him honestly, wrinkling her nose at the phrase. "I don't like the way that sounds. It's such an unpleasant thing to say. I never label myself as a killer. I'm an artist. A collector." She followed him, curious to find out what was in the center case. She wouldn't mind hearing all the stories he had to tell about his different contracts. There was something oddly enticing about knowing another person like her. She found herself attracted to him. The thought didn't really surprise her, though. It made sense that she would seek companionship in someone that understood her.

He stared at the center case with a sort of tenseness. It was as if the single object in there had more significance to him than the entire room and everything in it excluding that object. "I keep this one closest to my working space." He sounded as if he were deep in thought. "This used to belong to my brother, but now it's mine." Matthew sighed. "This is the gun that he used to shoot me."

That actually surprised Aveira. She reached out to touch the scar on his face. "Is that where you got this?" she asked softly. She wasn't sure she should be asking these questions. Normally it wouldn't bother her, but she felt surprisingly sane for once. Or perhaps they were equally crazy and she was just relatively saner. Whatever the reason, she wanted to be more careful about the things she said. She really didn't want to strike a nerve.

He smiled. "No. That was from the ensuing knife fight." He put his hand on hers and moved it under his shirt to a spot on his back. That spot felt like it had, at some point, had a layer of skin removed. Unlike when skin is normally cut or scraped off, however, it seemed like the top layer had just healed over it and so now there was a round dip in his skin. "That's where the bullet went in." Matthew hadn't been so much upset that his brother had shot him, but that he had shot him in the back.

Aveira traced her fingers over the scar slowly, getting a better sense of the wound. She hadn't been able to sense it under his shirt. The only reason she'd been able to sense the one on his face was because she'd gotten close enough when she'd peeked over his shoulder in the room above. Scars where very difficult to see.

She also noticed that when he'd moved her hand to his back, he'd forced her to move much closer to him. They were now inches apart. She could distinctly pick up his scent and wasn't surprised to find that he smelled wonderful. His scent was inviting, but dangerous--a perfect combination in her opinion.

Matthew stared into where eyes would be for a moment before realizing something. He wanted her. He really wanted her. They were so close, too. It'd be really easy if he just- He kissed her. Not the gentle and passionate kiss of a lover but the rough and desired filled kiss of lust. The hand that was on hers moved up her arm to her shoulder, then down her side till it rested on her back above her rear.

Aveira jerked in surprise, but quickly gave in to the kiss. More than that, she kissed back, fighting for dominance. It wasn't difficult to see that she wanted him back. Dangerous men always had a way of making her want them. Perhaps they spoke to that feral part of her that she could never fully contain.

Her left hand joined her right at his back and she pulled him closer hungrily.

((Okay, this needs to go to PMs now))

Matthew stepped behind his desk and threw his torn shirt into a trash can that was under the desk. Then he stepped back out and looked at Aveira. "My name's Matthew, by the way," he said casually. "Matthew West."

"Matthew," she repeated, enjoying the sound of it on her tongue. "It fits you." She walked over to where his gun was laying and picked it up. "It probably wasn't a good idea to just throw this around," she remarked dryly. It wasn't his fault. They'd both forgotten about it in the heat of their passion. She discreetly checked the safety features. Good, it only had the safety switch, which had been switched to the off position. She casually handed the gun to Matthew, barrel pointing toward her. When he went to take it, her finger "accidentally" clipped the trigger. A shot rang out and she fell, crying out as the bullet ripped through her side, narrowly missing her stomach. Fiery pain shot through her and she whimpered. It hurt.

Firing a gun indoors is often a bad move to make. Besides the fact that if you miss you could hit someone through a wall, there's the sound. A gunshot is loud enough to damage one's hearing. Indoors, the sound bounces off of the walls and back at the person who fired the shot. In a wide open space, however, the sound will go further and has more space to dissipate. Being that they were in a large room, it was this fact that made it so that their hearing wasn't damaged. Being underground, though, no one would have heard the shot.
"Fuck!" Within seconds Matthew had picked her up and was carrying her as quickly as he could to one of the hallways he had pointed out earlier. Within minutes she was on a table and he was attempting to stop the bleeding. It hadn't seemed to hit anything too important, but he'd need to know where all of the pieces of the bullet had gone to be sure. A scalpel and tweezers were waiting to begin removing the shards of lead whenever he could stop the bleeding.

Aveira's eyes opened half way. She realized she was on a table and had no recollection of having gotten there. Oh, that's right, she thought vaguely. I shot myself. I must have black out for a moment...She whimpered as waves of pain wracked her body. She'd never shot herself before. It isn't healing. Why isn't it healing? Then the awful realization hit her: she couldn't heal while the bullet was still within her body. An agonized groan escaped her lips at the thought of enduring such terrible pain any longer. And yet...

And yet she had done this to herself. She needed this feeling, craved it like a drug. She only ever felt whole when she was writhing in agony. It hurt, oh god it hurt, but the pain that slashed through her sharpened her clarity and brought her closer to sanity, which parts of her desperately craved. "Y-your safety features are shit," she rasped weakly.

"They work just fine," said Matthew as he applied pressure to the wound. "There was no reason for it to be cocked. I guess I did that without thinking or something. Stay awake."

Her eyes grew incredibly heavy and she was unable to keep them open anymore. Until he mentioned it, she hadn't realized how tired she was. "I don't want to stay awake," she mumbled. It would be so nice to sleep. Strange, she didn't even feel the pain anymore. Maybe her body was finally able to heal. That made sense, didn't it? No, something about that was wrong. She couldn't quite remember why, though.

"Stay awake!" He barked as he bent over close to her with the tweezers and scalpel in hand. "I need to get the pieces out."