#splinterwrites

@splinterwrites

Sara was drowning. Her skin was slick with the water from the Pit as mottled arms pulled her down into the water over and over again. But Laurel and Oliver and Constantine, they would come, right? They would come, and she would be freed. She searched for them as water invaded her lungs, as she fought back against the arms as hard as she could. But she was still alone. And every time she thought the torture had ended, that they would let her drown and simply cease to be, she was there again. Starting back at the beginning, the water slowly invading her lungs.

In the present, she continued to moan and groan. At the feeling of Billy’s hands on her arms, she lightly shook them off. And then she started to grow more frantic. Her limbs started to flail until her eyes suddenly flew open, and she was crouched on the couch, her hand wrapped around Billy’s throat.

the figure’s answer summarizes as much as he thought: no. he’s not real. real things didn’t speak in vague riddles and real things didn’t carry this aura about them. the rational thing to do is to ignore it  -----  but he can’t. ironically, this is too real. this isn’t the rattling of the crows between the crosshatch of the jungle. THIS PHANTOM IS UNWAVERING. he speaks clearly and he appears to him clearly, and his returning question isn’t shawled in some prophetic poet-speak that was hardly distinguishable.  

what do you dream of? he asks, and on impulse, adamska wants to answer. he wants to give totally and truthfully honest recount everything he had just felt. maybe he’d learn the meaning of it; maybe he’d get the reassurance he subliminally wants that he isn’t quietly slipping off his rocker. and before he can get a grip on himself, he does. he forgets that nothing can be said that is truly inconsequential, and he spills the gritty details.

〝i was suffocating,〞adam recalls.〝the bodies were stacked and they wouldn’t shut up. they sounded awful, and then i was drowning. they spat when they talk, drooled when they paused. it all fell into my mouth when i was trying to breath, and  -----  〞he remembers now. the walls are thin, and this apparition is very much a STRANGER.〝and i still don’t know who you are.〞

Cara put her hands up to show the other woman that she meant her no harm. “Look, I’m not after you, all right? I’m after a shapeshifter - and I’m not talking about a human turning into an animal. I’m talking about a human trading one appearance for another.” A beat passed before she added, “They shed their skin, lose their teeth... And this particular one is taking hostages, and taking over lives. They spend a few days - a week at most impersonating people while slowly stockpiling away money and valuables. And when they’re done, they kill the hostage. They’ve done it to four people so far, and now they’re on their fifth....” He’d already been gone for approximately 24 hours. Cara was running out of time - he was running out of time. Which was why she was putting all of her cards on the table so that she and this woman could go their separate ways.

For almost five years now, David had worked his ass off in the military. In a lot of ways, it’s what he wished he had growing up: a stable community, mentors, friends, action. He excelled in the work, of that there was no doubt. Especially now that he had a chance to join FOXHOUND. It was special ops, the kind only whispered about among the guys until their superior came within hearing range. Master Miller had pushed him to apply and now he only needed to ace their tests.

Then, he was approached by Major Oh. Older man, higher up in the military chain, and he’d apparently been watching David’s career. Their small talk led to the major inviting him to tea. Given the man’s status, it felt wrong to say no.

That was how David found himself outside the door to one of the major’s estates. He gave a sharp knock on the door then took a moment to straighten his clothes one last time.