*~*~*~*~*~*
Creed's research told him that the drug should take effect within fifteen minutes. For the frail, it took thirty. He knew because he checked the clock on the dash more times than he would have ever admitted to. As soon as she was out, he killed the headlights and made a U-turn at a wide spot in the road. He'd turned down a gravel road and then circled back and watched the car that had been following drive past him.
He grinned a little. At least something was going right. "Fucking amateurs."
He waited for ten minutes, then went back the other way, leaving the lights off until he'd gone a good five miles. There was never any sign that his pursuers had figured out that he'd doubled back, but he wasn't about to take chances at this stage of the game. Without really thinking about it, he guided the car through the maze of disused dirt roads to an abandoned farm. He pulled out his phone and dialed Conlon.
"Barn." Conlon said and ended the call.
Creed watched Conlon open one of the rickety doors, then the other. Creed drove slowly into the dimly lit structure. Conlon was already parked inside. A girl was nearly suspended by her handcuffed wrists from a rope descending from somewhere in the dark rafters. She was weakly illuminated by a couple of lanterns. Lank, dirty hair hung over her face. He got out of the car and walked over to the girl, his eyes appraising. She started to struggle and cry.
He noticed the stench first. A miasma of terror mixed with unwashed flesh, spermicide and cum surrounded her. He ignored it. The tiny denim miniskirt she was wearing was hiked up enough that he could see a ragged pair of cheap black nylon panties. Her pink tank top was streaked with dirt and stained with blood. After a single circuit, he dug clawed fingers into her dirty hair and tugged her head back. The girl was shaking, whimpering. A ball-gag was buckled around her head. Creed chuckled.
"Nice touch."
"Be prepared. Only thing I took away from my three months as a cub scout." Conlon said.
Creed began to sort through the various smells that surrounded the girl. "You fucked her?" Creed asked, he pulled the girl's hair back roughly so that he could study the contours of her face. Trails of black mascara highlighted the tracks of her tears.
Conlon shrugged, a hard grin curling the corners of his lips. "You said no tats, no piercings and natural tits. Once I had her all undressed I figured I might as well put her to good use."
Creed grinned. The height was close. The hair color was a little off, but it was similar to what the frail had looked like when he found her. This girl weighed a little less than his frail did now, but it was close enough. He took a moment to further parse out the subtleties in her scent.
"Also said I didn't want a junkie."
"I had limited time and specific criteria." He pointed at the girl and she struggled harder. A cry was muffled by the gag. "That's the best I could do."
Creed sniffed the air again. "Hasn't been using long."
"Might be seen as your way to keep her compliant."
"If it's found at all. I ain't exactly had a lot of time to research what little trick is gonna do to toxicology." The girl whimpered and started to struggle again. He twisted his hand tighter in her hair until she stopped fighting. The new angle gave him a better look at the slope of her brow and width of her cheekbones.
"The longer I look at the shape of her face, the more I think this isn't going to work." Conlon said.
Creed turned to look at the younger mutant, a hard smirk curled his lips. "You had fourteen straight up kills before you settled into protection."
Conlon's jaw tightened. "It was more than-"
"Fifteen then, your last one was a double-header, though you didn't expect it to be."
Conlon's eyes were fixed on Creed's. For a moment, the girl was forgotten. "You still hired me."
Creed shrugged. "'F it'd been for an outright kill I wouldn't have."
"Then what difference does it make if it was fourteen or fifteen or four?"
Even in the rotting wood scent of the barn and the cloud of scent the girl was pumping out, Creed could still smell a blend of anger and embarrassment coming off of Conlon. The smaller mutant's face was carefully arranged to look hard and uncaring. Creed looked back at the girl, turning her head so that the weak light caught all the different planes of her face. "I been watching people die since before your grandmother was born. Faces change, 'specially if you break certain bones long enough before so that swelling and bruising has time to set in, but not so long that the features are completely fucked up." He released the girl's hair. "Starting now would be too soon, sides, I don't want it bleeding all over my goddamn upholstery."
"And right before is too late because once the heart stops there's no more swelling." Conlon finished. Creed gave a short nod.
It took the girl the space of an adrenaline-fueled heartbeat to realize what was being discussed. When she did, she threw all of her weight into fighting the bonds that held her. There was a flow of fresh tears, fresh terror and fresh muffled screams. It sent a surge of power straight to Creed's groin and annoyed him all at once. He hit her hard in her exposed abdomen. The clear explosion of pain shocked her into silence again.
He smirked a little. "Somebody trained it at least. You sure about your new connections?"
"Sure as I can be. Once they found out my parents were CoH and I might know where to find Kelly they didn't ask too many more questions."
Creed hadn't anticipated too many problems with that part of things. Conlon was one of those mutants who could pass as human and he was, after all, going to provide 'valid' information. He let the subject drop. "There running water around here?"
"There's a well. Why?"
"Nothing of mine would ever be that fuckin' filthy." He opened the trunk and pulled the frail's shampoo out of her bag. He tossed the small bottle to Conlon. "Gimme your keys."
Conlon tossed them and dragged the girl off somewhere. Creed wasted no time in moving the luggage out of his trunk. He opened the trunk of Conlon's green Chrysler and pulled out a couple of pillows and two thick, down comforters. He lined the trunk with one of the blankets and spread one so that she'd be laying on three layers. Every action ratcheted up the tightness in his chest, so he fussed with pillows and blankets and suitcases in an effort to push it away from himself.
Finally, he couldn't put it off any longer. He opened the car door and lifted the frail out carefully. Anxiety was written in her scent, but it was the kind that invaded her dreams. He drew her closer against his chest and let out a low, rumbling purr. One small hand found its way between the buttons on his shirt, seeking contact with his skin. Even though she found only the cotton of his undershirt, her scent sweetened a moment later. Fucking frail, always making him hesitate when he didn't have the time. He slammed the car door. She never stirred.
He set her in the trunk and watched as she squirmed onto her side, searching for comfort or familiarity. Creed knew she wouldn't find either. That pissed him off. He knew the drug was supposed to induce a deep, almost unshakable sleep for at least eight hours, but he didn't want to give her more reason to fight against it. He shed his jacket and then his shirt, pulled off his undershirt and tossed it in with her. Why he did it at all was a goddamn mystery. Her senses were too feeble to pick up all the nuances of scent that he knew were present on the cotton. Still, he watched her pull the shirt to her face and inhale. Relaxation moved through her in a visible wave.
"Wh-who's that?"
He covered the sleeping girl with the free edge of the blanket. "That your business, cunt?" He turned and looked at the naked girl shivering next to Conlon. A dark purple bruise was forming where Creed had hit her earlier. Her hair dripped from the hasty scrubbing.
"Shouldn't have taken off the gag." The smaller mutant dug his fingers into the rapidly developing bruise. The girl squealed and stumbled away from him.
"'S alright." He pulled his shirt on slowly. "The more she talks, the more incentive I have to rip out her tongue before I kill her."
The girl went gray and her knees buckled. Conlon caught her before she hit the dirt floor. Might prove to be fun to have a scared little mouse to play with for awhile. He found a white turtleneck similar to the one the frail was wearing. He tossed it to Conlon. "Put this on her and get her in the car."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Creed learned a long time ago that most situations - no matter how shitty they appeared to be on the surface - could be turned to his advantage if he looked past the obvious. Obviously he didn't want Stan's asshole squad following him. He could kill them, but he knew there was an endless supply of other dumb shits waiting in the wings just itching to step in. He could evade them, but that would take time and energy and it wouldn't buy him any time to speak of. If he gave them something to look at, they probably wouldn't question what they were seeing. Most people trusted their own eyes, and in that he'd found a small but distinct advantage.
It had been a relatively simple idea to start out with. That was before he had to travel with a whiny crack whore who verbally pissed hysterical lies and overwrought sexual innuendo. "I have a kid." "You can fuck my ass." "You don't really want to do this. You look like a nice guy." "I got so turned on when you were standing there half naked." Her desperation disgusted him. The stink of it rolled off of her in thick, oily droplets that made him feel the need for several long, hot showers. Sure, she was scared too, and listening to her prattle on about not wanting to die was just going to make tearing her apart all the more satisfying. Meant the situation wasn't a total loss.
His attention was split between tossing out graphic descriptions of what he was going to do to the whore and worrying about the frail waking up. It was fucking illogical. She was human. The Hypnocyn was working so far. Even if she managed to shake it early, he'd made sure to give himself a cushion of time. When she woke up she'd be stretched out and comfortable and completely unaware that she'd been locked in a tiny, dark space, or that she had been a few short yards from a murder. He reminded himself that it was the best way. The ones following would see him kill a girl who was about the right size and right look and they'd see him continue on alone. If he knew human nature, they'd jump to the natural conclusion that the girl he killed was the one he left with.
