1 comments/ 4464 views/ 3 favorites Amethyst Origins Ch. 01 By: senzie Author's Note: Hey everyone! First off, I want to thank you with all my heart for opening this chapter and reading it. I hope that you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm a true superhero/heroine fan to the core. Antiheroes and vigilantes are my favorite because even though they don't really have to live by a code they do. This is because they feel like they've become worse than the villains they are hunting if they don't follow this code. I always enjoy feedback and ratings. Please let me know what you think negative/positive. Enjoy this adventure! *~*~*~*~*~* Amethyst Origins Ch. 02 Author's Note: Hello again! Thank you so very much for the ratings! I really appreciate it! The more feedback I get from my readers really helps me know if I going in the right direction for you all. Furthermore, here is Amethyst's next chapter. I really believe that Alana's alter ego Amethyst is the real her. Somewhat like how Clark Kent's alter ego Superman is really who he is. When you put on the mask and you're able to escape the mundane in the world and just be yourself and free. A lot of Alana shines through Amethyst which is why she maintains her humanity and refuses to kill even though she realizes how close she's come to doing it. Enjoy! *~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Two Alana Hastings drained her third cup of coffee as she watched her class continue to practice on their training dummies. Her afternoon class had been learning CPR and had just moved up to minor injury training. She'd been a certified paramedic for four years and had been offered an instructor's position after she'd responded to her brother's murder two years ago. Alan gripped her coffee cup tighter as the horrid memories flood her mind. Her head ached and felt like it been turned to lead. She set down her coffee mug and began rubbing her temples. She thought about the bottle of anxiety pills in her bag that Dr. Moore had prescribed her and contemplated taking them. Just one of them could set her mind at ease for a couple of hours. She'd been assigned to over six months of grief counseling after the Hastings Massacre. That's what the papers had called it. The shrink had diagnosed her with post-traumatic stress disorder and recommended anti-anxiety medication and relief of duty. She still saw Dr. Moore once a week as a requirement for her training position. Four years in the US Navy as a medical corpsman and two deployments. Still, none of her training had prepared her for the sight that night at her brother's home. She swore she could still smell the blood. Taking care of the soldiers on the battle was one thing to her because she'd been trained for the worst in combat. Her family was killed in their home where they should have been safe. That's why she'd fought all those years, to protect them. She'd failed them. She wasn't there when she needed her the most. Alana felt her hand begin to twitch and decided it was time for a break. She was about to head to the locker room before a comforting hand touched her shoulder and startled her. Alana nearly knocked over her coffee cup. She clutched her hands to her chest. "Whoa there, I didn't mean to freak you out, honey," said a familiar female voice. "Is everything okay?" she asked. Alana looked up into the comforting soft brown eyes of her friend and fellow instructor, Tessa Carr. She smiled softly at her friend and nodded slowly. "I'm just tired that's all, really," she admitted before resting her hand on top of her friend's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Have you been out fighting crime again, girl?" Tessa teased. Alana almost crushed her friend's hand. She felt herself break out into a cold sweat. She also knew her face must have turned an ugly shade of pale because Tessa stared at like she was ready to put her on an available gurney. Tessa's brown eyes looked her friend over. "Lana, it was just a joke," Tessa said trying to easy her friend. She raised a thin blond eyebrow. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked with her prying voice. Alana released her friend's hand. "Yeah, I think I'm just going to go home. I don't feel well," Alana lied. It wasn't entirely a lie. Tessa nodded her agreement. "Can you please take over?" Alana asked even though she knew she didn't have to. Tessa nodded softly. "Of course," her friend said before leaving to take over the class. Alana grabbed her things and left the training facility that was located in Liberty City Police Department. Her late brother, Marcus, had been a detective here two years ago. She wouldn't have accepted working here if there had been a better cover for her midnight excursions. She walked over to her brother's red 67' mustang that was in the parking lot across from the main building. After he was murdered she inherited everything since their parents had been killed in a car accident ten years prior-she had been just sixteen years old. Marcus had been in college when that happened and had to drop out to take care of his baby sister. Marcus had been a Marine scout sniper who left the corps to become a cop. He said he'd wanted to prevent bad things from happening to good people on the home front. He'd loved the corps and had wanted to stay but he'd told Alana that being away from his only family had left a hole in his chest he couldn't fill. He couldn't protect her if he wasn't around. Alana felt the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. She missed him so much her heart still ached. She remembered the screams from the terrible night. She'd responded to a usual 911 call. She hadn't heard the address because she had been loading up the ambulance while the medic in charge took the call. She hadn't realized where they were driving until she'd seen the children's toys in the front lawn and the four blood stained gurneys that had come out of the townhouse. Alana had felt like the ground beneath her had crumbled and at any moment she would have fallen straight down into the abyss. In that very moment her life had changed. Since that moment she knew the only way to make it right was to take down the man responsible for her brother's and his family's murder. A car honked near her, jolting her from the bad memories. Alana got into her brother's mustang and drove toward her city's only cemetery. She hadn't been to the cemetery for a month and she stopped to get fresh flowers for her family's gravestones. She picked daisies because that had been her late sister's favorite. Alana had pulled a dark coat over her uniform to fight off the chilly mid-September air. She walked through the black iron gates of the cemetery that housed all her relatives and was soon standing in front of their graves. Her whole family, her parents, her brother, his wife, and her niece and nephew were there. She placed the daisies in front of all their graves as loneliness filled the very core of her. She felt the tears sliding down her hot cheeks. Alana hadn't cried for a while and the tears felt foreign to her. She knew she should've been through her grieving processes by now. Her blue eyes fell to the epitaph written on her parent's gravestone. Her cold fingers traced the engraved words. "I miss you so much," Alana whispered the words and they carried along the wind before wrapping around her. The only noise in the cemetery was her voice. The tears continued to fall as she stood there for what seemed like hours. She felt caught between her past and her present, while still trying to carve out her future. "I'm barely surviving as it is," Alana whispered softly. She was alone. "I won't let him get away with this," Alana forced out, her voicing cracking with each word. She felt the sorrow begin to fade and the anger that began to replace it. It happened every time she thought about her brother and his family. She felt the grief eating her up from the inside. Joe Marcello would pay for what he did to her family, for what he did to the people of her city, and for whatever other sins he'd committed. Alana would finish him if it was the last thing she'd ever be able to do. The Hastings family had suffered enough from the hands of men like Joe Marcello. *~*~*~*~*~* "Where is he?!" Amethyst shouted at the brawny man beneath her heel. She'd caught him off guard and now he was on his back holding his arms over his head to protect himself from her blows. Amethyst knelt down and pressed her knee into the man's chest and let the full weight of her body crush into him. "You tell me what I want to know. It's your choice whether you want more pain involved or not," Amethyst stated before sending another blow down on the thug. She'd found the man pushing drugs to a couple of kids in an ally at the lower East side of the city on one of her usual routine night raids. She wanted to kill him for the sickness he was helping Joe Marcello spread across her city. These were just kids. "Who's your supplier? I want a name!" Amethyst ordered. She'd been interrogating the drug dealer for over half an hour and he wasn't breaking. She scoffed. He was probably too fucked up to even know his own name. She felt disgust boiling up from inside of her. She'd been in the field long enough to recognize a drug addict. A day without their liquid mercy meant a day of unimaginable hell and not just the physical kind. "You're not going to get anything out of him," said a familiar voice. Death Row appeared from out of the shadows of the dark alley with his usual brilliant smile in place. Amethyst ignored him and returned her attention to the drug dealer. The man was sobbing and had pissed himself in fear. Amethyst sighed in defeat. "Get the hell out of here before I put you out of your misery," she yelled at him before lowering herself to stare down into his very soul, if there was still any of it left. "If you ever—and I mean ever—sell to kids in my city again... I'm coming for you," she warned in a deadly tone. Amethyst pulled the wallet from the man's back pocket and looked at the name. She looked up from the driver's license and pinned him with her blue-eyes. "Do I make myself clear, Mr. Carlton?" Amethyst asked sharply. She didn't even bother to wait for the man's meekly answer before she turned away from him and walked past Death Row. She didn't bother acknowledging him either. She just pushed herself past the vigilante. Amethyst hoped her got the clear "fuck off" message she was trying desperately to portray. She wasn't in the mood for Death Row's scrutiny or sarcasm. She felt like she was finally about to break and finally kill someone and he was starting to look like a good enough target for her. "I've never seen you make a bad guy piss his pants before," Death Row said when he caught up to her and fell into the same pace. They were halfway through a dilapidated basketball court. It reminded her of Marcus and her nephew. Amethyst mentally shook herself and focused on the situation she was in. Apparently, her "fuck off" message hadn't been clear enough. So she tried another tactic. "Don't you have your own drug dealer's to torment?" Amethyst asked. She started walking faster, trying to shake him. Death Row's hand shot out and caught her by the forearm. In one instant Amethyst had gripped his hand, twisted it, and flung the larger man over her shoulder to fall flat on the ground before her. She had her heel to his throat, the serrated blade rested against the artery there. The blade glistened menacingly in the moonlight. "I'm so not in the mood tonight," Amethyst warned through gritted teeth. Death Row, ever the pain in the ass and sarcastic prick laughed at her, even in the face of imminent harm. She fought the urge to roll her eyes—typical man/vigilante ego syndrome. He smiled up at her coyly and moved slightly, which caused the blade to nick his neck. Small droplets of blood poured from the wound and tricked down his neck towards the dark pavement. "Well, I just so happen to be in the mood," he taunted her before in a blur of impossible speed he gripped her calf and threw it out from underneath her and she tumbled to the hard ground. Amethyst cursed, humiliated by being bested. She then quickly used her weight as an advantage to flip Death Row onto his back and leave her in the dominant position. "This isn't how I expected the evening to go," he said before pausing to let the words sink in. "Though, I'm not complaining either," he said chuckling from underneath her. Death Row was impossibly close to her. She could smell his aftershave or something that made him wonderfully male. It magnetized her to him. Her blue-eyes were drawn to his dark ones like a moth to a flame. Death Row wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her flush against his. His chest was hard like stone. She felt her walls begin to deteriorate as he looked at her with those hypnotizing eyes. His lips were scant inches from hers. Death Rows hand rough hands slide up from her waist, up her neck, and into her long dark hair. She felt her body pulse from the charge that electrified between them. She knew what he was trying to do and she couldn't let that happen. She hadn't been touched by a man in years and this dangerous man was starting to make her want things she couldn't have. So she did the only thing to could think of. She punched him. It was a mean right hook to the left side of his amazingly hard chin. Her hand burned with pain from performing the blow but at least she'd defended her honor. She grimaced as she watched his jaw begin to swell. Death Row let go of her to nurse his wounded jaw and she pulled herself up from him in disgust and something else entirely that she couldn't admit to him, let alone herself. She straightened herself and glared down at him in disapproval. Amethyst fought down the urge to apologize and instead took the easy way out. "You have no right!" she declared with a glare from her icy blue-eyes and a steel reinforced tone. She had to be strong and lay down the rules before she did something she'd regret. Hell, she wasn't so sure anymore. She didn't even know this guy and she'd almost let him kiss her. Death Row was holding his jaw but look otherwise still in one piece. He stood up and met her glare. "This really didn't go as I expected it would," he said with a sigh. His dark eyes held hers and she swore her heart stopped beating. Finally finding her voice again she spoke. "It doesn't matter," she announced with as much pride as she could muster. The problem was it really did matter. "Don't touch me again unless you don't want children," Amethyst admitted with a cool look towards his anatomy. Death Row smiled but otherwise kept his distance. "Enough said," he agreed before turning away from her. He stopped midstride and look over his shoulder. "I'll see you around," he affirmed. With that, he was gone. *~*~*~*~*~* Look for the next chapter in the New Year! Merry Christmas to my amazing readers! Amethyst Origins Ch. 03 Author's Note: I hope everyone had a great Christmas and a Happy New Year! Now down to business. In this chapter we really get to know Alana and her insecurities. Amethyst lets her be whoever she wants to be. So let's see how much trouble Amethyst gets into. Enjoy! *~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three Friday night came and just as Alana pulled out her suit for another raid her phone rang. She looked at the screen and sighed. It was Tessa. She stared at the screen weighing her options. She could ignore the call and Tessa would show up and be peeved that her friend had ignored her calls or she could just give up now. Alana pressed the green call button. "Hey, Tess," she said tiredly. "Hello, stranger," she greeted back with far more enthusiasm. Alana sighed. Something was up and she didn't want to know what it was. "We're going clubbing," Tess announced with a tone that presented no argument. Damn it, she cursed inside her head. "We are going," Tess stated with even more conviction. Double damn it, Alana cursed again inside her head. Quick, think of an excuse, she demanded herself. "Uh, I can't, I have to um, do things tonight," Alana blurted out. She knew she was grasping at straws but then again she'd never been a good liar. Granted, omitting the truth about her night time life was still lying, but it was much easy to not say anything at all. "I'm shaving—I, uh, I mean I'm cleaning," Alana said finally. Not that! She screamed inside her head. She needed to say something important to get Tess off her trail. "Yeah, whatever," Tess said, but in no one way was she agreeing with her friend or even beginning to believe the excuses she thought could get her out of a little girl time. "You're going, you need this," Tess confirmed. Alana sighed loudly. She didn't understand why clubbing, or just the idea of getting closer to her only friend, terrified her. She could break a thug's hand in half a second and stare down the end of a gun barrel without break a sweat, but this terrified her beyond belief. Alana had been trying to remain withdrawn from the normal world as a way to protect anyone who could end up hurt or dead like her family. That meant no boyfriend, no outings, and barely any acquaintances. She knew anybody could be absorbed into her family's curse and the life she'd chosen for herself. She felt her chest tighten. If anything were to happen to someone because of her choices, like Tessa or anyone else, she could never forgive herself. She had to stay alone. "Lana, if you don't go with me tonight, I'll end up going alone," Tess pouted. Alana sighed. Did she have to guilt trip? "Fine," Alana relented after a few seconds. "You win. I'll grab you at eight?" "Sounds good," Tess said happily and Alana knew her friend was smiling triumphantly on the other end. They'd agreed to go to the new club called Heat. Alana joked on the way about the ingenious of naming a club that and making a huge profit out of it. Tess mentioned that one of the owners of the club rarely showed himself in the public's eye. "It's just strange that a guy is promoting a new business by not being around it," Tess had explained. Then she winced when a question dawned on her. "What if the guy's a creep or something?" Tess asked seriously. "Or maybe the public sucks and this guy figured it out just in time," Alana answered as they pulled into one of the parking garages. They made their way to the long line outside the club and were standing underneath the large red neon sign with Heat inscribed in fancy script. The club was posh on the outside and Alana felt like she'd gag if she went inside. It was bad enough Tess had made her change once she arrived to pick her up at her apartment so that she would fit in. "Can we bail and just get burgers? How about we go see a movie?" Alana asked, or rather begged, she hated tight spaces and this club was bound to be packed. Tess shot a cool look at her friend. "You're a wimp. Or maybe you're just afraid you might have some fun for once?" Tessa challenged with a bright smile. Alana groaned. "That's unfair," Alana said with mock anger. She couldn't stay mad at her friend for too long. Tess was just trying to help her have fun. They could have a few drinks, dance a while, and head home in a couple of hours. You can do this, Alana said to herself. She noticed Tess had been staring at the good looking bodyguard for a few minutes before he waved for us both to come up. He was cute, with a dimple in one cheek and gorgeous eyes that a girl could get lost in. He kissed Tess on the cheek and must have whispered something naughty into her ear because she blushed. Alana frowned as they made their way inside the club. Tess never blushed, or maybe she did and Alana didn't see it because they rarely hung out socially. Did she know her friend that well? Tess was always professional at work. The only time her fun side came out was on the phone or if they were off the clock. She was so lost in her jumbled thoughts she almost lost Tess as her friend was swallowed up into the large crowd of people. Heat was a large warehouse converted into the largest dance floor, DJ booth section, and neon glowing bar mesh up Alana had ever seen. She already hated it. The colors were too bright, the music made her head throb, and she couldn't even drown out the noise with alcohol because the bar was packed. She needed a crowbar, or a gun, to get a martini. She realized Tess was saying something to her, or rather yelling. Alana assumed her friend was asking her if she wanted a drink. She simply nodded, which caused her brain to wobble in her skull a little more. She felt sick. Alana then made the mistake of looking at her happy friend. She knew she couldn't just bail on her only friend because she didn't like the crowd. Alana thought about how many times she'd dragged Marcus to clubs with her to be her back up in case she had a problem. He hadn't complained once about looking out for his baby sister. You can do this, she said again. Just sit down and try to have a little fun, Alana chided to herself. If she didn't give herself a pep talk every few minutes she was going to bail. *~*~*~*~*~* Alana glanced at her silver watch that been a gift to from her parents. The face was white and a tiny amethyst stone marked each of the numbers. It'd been her father's idea to give it to her. Her mother had joked that she never knew her husband had ever had such good taste. The usual gut twisting feeling settled in her. She hadn't thought about her parents since she'd visited them at the cemetery earlier that week. Alana glanced at her watch again and sighed before she sipped her dirty martini. It was a quarter past midnight. She hadn't seen Tess for over half an hour and was tempted to send out a search party for her friend. Just as she pulled out her cellphone Alana caught sight of Tess flirting with the same cute bouncer from before. She drained her glass and prepared to march over to her friend and demand they leave. Alana made it about three steps before a large, muscular hand grasped her wrist and pulled her onto the dance floor. Her body was soon flush up against the tall and broad man. The lights on the dance floor shone in every direction but his face so she couldn't make it out. His hands slipped around her waist. She sighed. Alana hadn't felt like dancing but she knew she should try to be polite. They swayed to the music, his hands never leaving her waist. When the stranger leaned down to whisper in her ear over the loud music his strong male scent invaded her senses. The comforting smell wrapped around her like a warm blanket and made promises she knew only existed in fairy tales. "You look beautiful," the stranger whispered. Alana shuddered. Even his voice was sexy—deep enough to be manly but smooth enough to seduce the panties off of any girl. Alana took a few moments to collect her thoughts and form a response. "Uh—well, thank you," she stumbled out. They continued to sway to some music about a break up. "Who—who are you?" she asked suddenly before she could help herself. She winced. Wow, she really was out of practice. Could she have been more standoffish? His deep laughter filled her ears and his chest rumbled against hers. The strange man was taller than her by a few inches and had the broadest shoulders she'd even seen. Well, she'd seen broader but not on a male that she liked. Guilt flooded her. Here she was being swept off her feet by a real guy and she was thinking about Death Row. "The name's Hayden Quinn," the stranger replied shaking Alana out of her train of thought. "You are?" "Alana Hastings," she replied automatically. "I'm the owner of this establishment. Do you like it?" he asked with a hopeful expression. Alana looked up into what she hoped was his eyes since his face was still obscured because of the lights. She was about to tell him the truth when she realized that this was the first time a guy had hit on her in a long time—Death Row was null and void. She wanted to kick herself for thinking about him again. Alana finally decided to try the polite approach since she didn't want to scare of the first decent guy that approached her. "It's alright, I'm not much of a party girl," Alana said gently. Hayden nodded his agreement or at least Alana thought he did. She still hadn't seen his face yet. She realized she really would like to know this man's face. Her chest swelled, in an entirely good way, at the thought. "You hate it," he stated without any trace of hurt. "I don't necessarily hate it," Alana began before the corners of her mouth turned up. "It's just so loud and it seems impersonal," Alana explained. She stopped herself. "Wow, I just defined a night club," she said smiling brightly. Hayden leaned down closer. "I think I like you smiling, Alana. Would you like a drink?" he asked but was already leading her towards the bar. The people surrounding it parted immediately. Alana mutely followed Hayden to the far edge of the bar and took the offered stool. When she looked up at him, her breath stopped. Hayden was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Her eyes scanned over him. Hayden Quinn had a dark olive complexion, dark eyes, and dark hair. Alana decided he must be Greek or Mediterranean somehow. He definitely took after a beautiful mother. Hayden's oceanic eyes locked on hers after he finished ordering her another dirty martini. Alana looked at him confused. "How did you know what I ordered?" she asked before she could stop herself, again. Hayden smiled a bright, straight smile at her. "It's my club. I just asked the bartender. He remembers a pretty face," Hayden replied simply. She smiled at his response. "Thank you, Hayden," she said sincerely. "So why the club?" she asked looking around. "It's a family thing. Do you want to talk in the VIP section?" he asked but like before he was already leading her towards a curtained and guarded room. The other half of the club was hidden behind large black velvet curtains. Hayden led her towards the entrance where a tall and muscular bald bouncer stood ready for anything. "Evening, Don," he acknowledged with a nod. "Good evening, Sir," Don replied respectfully. "This is Ms. Hastings," Hayden told the man before leading Alana inside. Hayden paused outside the entrance and whispered something to Don the bouncer. No doubt explaining what the bouncer already knew he was expected to do. He nodded and returned to guarding. Alana wasn't naïve. She knew what happened in the VIP section of a night club. She just hoped Hayden wasn't a scumbag who would end up getting himself hurt. She was actually beginning to like him. But then again, a lot of the guys she liked ended up being scumbags. Hayden led her to a plush white couch on one side of the VIP room. She sat down and took a sip of her drink before setting it down on the glass coffee table. Alana figured she might as well clear the air with night club owner. She needed to let him know the boundaries. "Listen, Hayden," she began. "You're a great guy and everything, but I hope there are no expectations you're having about me tonight," Alana said cautiously. Hayden nodded. He had listened intently before folding his hands in front of him. He cleared his throat. "There are no expectations, Alana," he admitted before smiling. "Well, except I hope you'll let me get to know you better and maybe take you out to dinner sometime?" he asked with a hopeful tone. Alana smiled at that. "I'd like dinner," she replied. Hayden reached out and touched her cheek gently with his large hand. He didn't touch her more than the strangely intimate caress. His hand just lay there as his Mediterranean Sea colored eyes captured hers. Alana felt her knees weaken. She never really was good at intimate staring contests. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Alana," Hayden admitted with a small smile. Alana nodded before three men burst into the VIP room. Alana jumped up for the couch almost instantly. Her hand reached into her clutch for her switch blade. Yes, it was a little over the top but switch blades were great for tight situations like this. Her blue eyes scanned over the men. Two of them were large Italian men with mean looks on their faces while the third man was one of the scariest men she'd ever seen. "Joe Marcello," Hayden said tightly. Alana cut sharp look to Hayden. What the hell? Alana asked herself. "It's a pleasure to have you in my establishment. I'm sorry I hadn't realized we had an appointment," Hayden said. His hand quickly enveloped Alana's free one and gave it a gentle squeeze. He kissed her on the temple before walking her towards the entrance. "This is important. I'll call you," Hayden said with a reassuring smile. Alana was too shocked to reply that she hadn't given it to him so she just simply nodded her head. Dave the bouncer retrieved her and led her towards the club entrance. Tess was still chatting up her bouncer when Alana walked over. Tess had been laughing at something the guy had said when Alana came to stand next to her. Tess looked at her friend with concern. "Honey, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something?" Tess asked wrapping her arms around Alana. "What happened?" Tess asked persistently. Alana mentally shook herself. She couldn't let Tess know about Joe Marcello so she did what she did best. "I don't know. I think I had too many martinis," she lied. "Can we go please?" Alana asked with an eagerness that put Tess on edge. "Um sure, honey," Tess replied before saying goodbye to the bouncer and leading Alana out of the club. "Let's get out of here." *~*~*~*~*~* Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to rate and comment! Until next time! Amethyst Origins Ch. 04 Author's Note: Hello again! I can't help but crank out chapters. Story is just coming together easily. I hope you all like it! Enjoy! *~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Four "So who's the tail?" Hayden ignored the inappropriate question and reached into a drawer in his black desk and pulled out a manila envelope. He tossed it over to one of Joe Marcello's crooks. The large man counted the bills and nodded to his boss in confirmation. Joe Marcello's hard blue eyes landed on Hayden. Hayden Quinn had never liked Joe Marcello. He was a piece of shit mob boss who seemed to always have a hidden agenda. Admittedly he was also an excellent businessman and very good with money. Especially the protection money he demanded out of everyone who owned a business within his territory. Hayden cleared his throat. "Are we done here, Joe?" he asked impatiently. Joe Marcello unconsciously sucked his teeth and looked around the white office. He then looked at the other bodyguard that had come in with him and nodded his head. The bodyguard pulled a larger manila envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the black desk. Hayden picked it up and opened it. "What sick shit is this, Joe?" Hayden sneered before dropping the envelope. Hayden stood up for his desk and turned away from the three thugs. Joe Marcello cleared his throat from behind him and ordered the bodyguard to pick up the envelope. Hayden turned around and glared at Joe. "This is what happens when business owners forget their place, Mr. Quinn," Joe said with a voice that one might use when discussing the weather. "I own this city," Joe stated before picking up a cigar from the oak box on the black desk. He then reached for the small box of matches. "I own its people, its law enforcement, and I own you," Joe added before lighting the cigar with one of the wooden matches. Hayden stared at the man like he was crazy. Joe Marcello was a snake. The first time Hayden had refused to play ball one of his bouncers was found decapitated outside the club. They found his head on a spike across the street. Hayden had started making payments that night. "Do you have a problem with our generous agreement, Mr. Quinn?" Joe asked softly. Hayden didn't have to the think about his answer. "No, we don't," Hayden replied with venom. "Now leave," he added with as much confidence as he could muster. He knew he had to maintain a hard exterior or Joe Marcello would sense his fear and drown him in it. Joe Marcello smiled, though on a man like him it was more of a sneer. He stood up and walked out with both of his bodyguards in tow. Hayden let out a breath and relaxed in his chair. A few minutes later he dialed a number on his phone. After a few seconds a man picked up. "What is it?" a man's voice answered with a sleepy and slightly aggravated voice. "We've got a problem," Hayden replied. "Joe Marcello is cutting off body parts of business owners who don't play ball. We need to squash this bullshit before the whole city goes up in smoke," Hayden said, his voice laced with warning. "I'll handle it," the man stated with a voice of confidence. And with that he hung up. *~*~*~*~*~* Alana followed Joe Marcello and his two bodyguards in their black SUV. They drove through downtown and towards the suburbs where Marcello's mansion was located. She drove behind another vehicle the whole way to the mansion to avoid detection. She parked her bike outside the large stone wall that surrounded the compound. After leaving the club Alana had feigned illness and took a cab home to change. Once she'd changed she drove the three blocks back to the club grateful that her friend had picked a close night club. Even if the nightclub was owned by a handsome man she'd just meant that could be dirty with Joe Marcello. She mentally shook herself. It wouldn't have worked anyways. Half the city was in deep with Joe Marcello so it shouldn't have really surprised her. She began climbing up the tall stone wall. She was halfway up the wall when a strong hand pulled her up and stood her on both of her feet. Amethyst tried to balance herself for a fight when she realized who'd pulled her up. She scowled at him. "Aren't you tired of trespassing?" she asked angrily. "Technically, we're both trespassing," he replied simply. Alana scoffed before she slid down the other side of the wall. She didn't wait for the man to follow her. She knew she didn't have to. He walked alongside her as they worked their way towards the back entrance. The entire compound was surrounded by Marcello's security. They were all armed with 9mm handguns and SMGs. Suddenly Death Row grabbed her and pushed her up against one of the stone walls just as a security guard walked past them. Just as she was about to thank him she noticed the strange look in his eyes as he watched her. She turned away from him. His dark eyes were doing strange things to her sanity. "Don't even think about it," she warned before elbowing him to give herself some space. He chuckled. "Only in my dreams, sweetheart," he replied smoothly. "What are you even doing here?" she demanded softly. "Wait, do I even want to know?" she asked more to herself than to him. "Joe Marcello has a bookkeeper by the name of Julius Steinman. He's got the logs on every one of Marcello's businesses and how much he collects in protection money. If I get my hands on that info, I'll know who he hits up next," he explained simply. His dark eyes flew up to look into hers. "What are you doing here?" he asked. Alana was about to tell him what happened but given they were supposed to have secret identities that wouldn't really protect hers. She cleared her throat and nodded at him. "I got the same info, I want to hand the books over to the police and maybe it can help their case against him," she lied. He scoffed. "Police can't do shit about Marcello. That's why we're here," he replied. He pointed to the front entrance. "There are cameras set up every ten meters along the stone wall. Two guards posted at every entrance into the mansion. On my way in I noticed some Dobermans over by the pool. So we might want to avoid making a grand entrance or we could get bit in the ass," he explained. Alana nodded her agreement. "How do you suggest we do this?" she asked quietly. "I had a pretty good idea," he offered before pushing her out in front of the bodyguard. The man pulled out his 9mm and aimed it at her as he walked towards her. Just as the guard walked towards her partner stepped out and snapped the man's neck. He dragged the body into the shadows behind the wall. "What did I say about killing?" Alana chastised him. Death Row didn't respond. "And that was your grand idea?" Alana scoffed before she punched him in the shoulder. "I could have gotten shot, you idiot!" she said a little louder. Death Row shushed her. "Calm down and follow my lead, sweetheart. We'll be fine," he assured before moving stealthy along the wall to one of the doors that led into the mansion. "Here's his friend," Amethyst warned pushing Death Row out of the way of the bodyguard's view. The man walked towards them before stopping halfway and waiting. "Seriously, is that like in every guard's guide book?" Amethyst whispered before she crouched over to him and step up behind him. Swiftly, she wrenched the gun out of the man's hand and hit him in the neck with the butt of his gun. The guard crashed to the ground. She quickly removed the clip and pulled back the charging hammer to release the loaded bullet. She did the same with the automatic. She pocketed the ammo and tossed the guns in the rose bushes. Amethyst turned to Death Row and he was just staring at her. She sighed and when he didn't stop staring at her she hit him in the shoulder. He was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. "I said no killing, not that I didn't know how to use a gun," Amethyst admitted before reaching for the door handle of the large black iron glasses doors. She turned it lightly before Death Row's hand stopped her. His rough hand clutched hers in a steel-like grip. "If you don't want to kill anyone you better stay out here," he warned. "Like hell I will," Alana protested. She grabbed the door handle and twisted it before slipping inside. Death Row was fast on her heels. She low crawled past a nearby piano and hid herself behind an antique sofa. Death Row was on the other side of the living room obscured in a dark corner. Alana could feel her heartbeat sped up as she heard footsteps draw near. "Like I said, nobody's is gonna' talk if they don't have a windpipe," said one of them. Alana felt her chest tighten. It was Joe Marcello. Every time she heard his snake like voice it made her spine stiffen. Her brother's dead face flashed in front of her eyes and she could almost smell the sick stink of blood and death. She closed her eyes and took two deep breaths. She drew out a pair of brass knuckles she kept in her suit pocket and was about to stand up and take out the other guy when she heard a heartbreaking sound. "Daddy, it is time for my bedtime story?" Alana heart sank and she looked up to where Death Row had been positioned. He wasn't there and she couldn't be sure if the crazy bastard would try to kill Joe Marcello in front of his kid. Alana looked around the side of the antique sofa. A little girl, spinning image of her father, was sitting on his lap hugging him. Alana felt bile rise in her throat. This sick sadistic prick was a father. She'd never considered Joe Marcello to be anything but a monster. She tried to tear her eyes away from what should have been a heartwarming sight. If she attacked this man in front of his child, no matter how horrible he was, would that make her any less of a monster? "Yes, honey, I'll be up in a few minutes," Marcello replied before leaning down to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead. "Go on, scoot," he said turning her in the direction of the immaculate ivory staircase. The little girl walked away humming softly. A stuffed bunny gripped in her right hand. Alana felt sick. She couldn't kill Marcello with his little girl in the house. It wouldn't be justice for her family. She had to find another way. "Now back to business," Marcello said to one of his bodyguard. "Tell Julius I need those books cooked before the FEDS decide to show up at his office," Joe continued. "Then get rid of him, he's become a liability." Amethyst was trying to wave down Death Row to stop him from taking out Marcello but it was too late. Death Row snuck out from behind the curtain he'd been hiding in and grabbed Marcello's man in a choke hold. The next few moments passed in what had to be slow motion. Death Row snapped the man's neck and pulled his 9mm on Marcello and stared the crime lord down with pure hatred in his eyes. "Get on your knees, you piece of shit," Death Row ordered. He shoved the barrel at Marcello's forehead and he obeyed. Marcello knelt with both of his hands spread out before him in the universal sign of surrender. "Where's the book?" Death Row ordered, shoving the barrel of the gun harder into Marcello's skull. Marcello stared right back at Death Row with humor and something else that made Amethyst feel queasy in his eyes. "Who's lookin' for it?" Marcello demanded. Then a dark eyebrow rose. "Did I fuck your wife or something?" he asked mockingly. Death Row butt checked him with the 9mm. "Last chance," he warned menacingly. "Where's the book?" the question sent a shiver up Amethyst's back. Alana hoped for Marcello's sake that he did what he was told before Death Row took a limp off or worse. Marcello spit blood in his face. Alana sighed. Death Row butt checked him across the face again. "I will dismember you and feed you to your Dobermans, so help me," he threatened. Some people had to do it the hard way. "You can fuck off," he threw back before he turned to Amethyst. "But you can stay if you like," he said, a sick smile spreading across his face. Death Row's hand flew out and grasped Marcello's throat. His massive hand crushed it easily. Marcello's gurgled sounds filled the lavish living room. Death Row squeezed tighter and Alana remembered it only took a few pounds of pressure to crush a windpipe. Her hand shot out and landed on his. Death Row's once rage filled eyes captured hers and it was almost if he finally realized where they were and what he was doing. Amethyst squeezed his arm with her hand other hand reassuringly. He let go and Marcello's fell to the ground sputtering and cursing like a madman. Amethyst walked over to Marcello and glared down at him. "You're going down one way or another Marcello, it's just a matter of when," Amethyst warned him. Marcello's eyes flew to what she suspected was another one of his goons. A shot rang out and before Amethyst knew what was happening Death Row was dragging her out of the mansion. It took her a few moments to register the blood she smelt in the air and the warmth of it on her hands. She looked down and froze. Was it hers? Death Row groaned next to her and she realized he'd taken a shot to the right side of his chest, probably just inches away from his heart. "Don't ever say I didn't do anything for you," Death Row joked. "You could've died," Amethyst countered even as she swung his left arm over her shoulders and helped him through the gates of the property. In the confrontation security must have unlocked the gates to get inside. Not the smartest security in town. "I've been shot before," he stated simply. "Getting stabbed is worse," he added. Amethyst wondered about his vague comment as she helped him walk over to her bike hidden behind some bushes. "You need medical attention, I'm taking you to the hospital," she decreed. "I'll survive. Will you just patch me up?" Death Row advised. "Fine, I know a place. Can you manage to stay on my bike?" she asked. *~*~*~*~*~* Please don't forget to rate and comment! Amethyst Origins Ch. 05 Author's Note: Hello again! I do hope this chapter is long enough for you guys. I'm sorry for how short the previous chapters were. Enjoy! *~*~*~*~*~* "Damn!" "Oh, sit still," Amethyst ordered. Her hands steadily stitching the gushing wound on the right side of his chest. She then inserted the needle a bit too quickly and Death Row almost came off the steel table she'd set him on. She glared up at him. "Don't make me stitch your mouth shut," she warned. "You can sure as hell try, sweetheart," Death Row replied with a raised eyebrow but didn't move again. Alana's blue eyes fixed on him. Blood and sweat covered his brow and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. She took the chance to take in the scars that marred his bare torso. Apparently, he'd been shot—and possibly stabbed—more than once. Amethyst had helped him out of his suit top and it was bunched around his trim waist. Her blue eyes followed down the hard lines of his six pack abs. Her eyes lingered at the dark dust of hair that trailed down from his belly button and disappeared into the waistband of his suit. Alana unconsciously licked her lips. The silence between them hung for a few minutes as Alana worked tirelessly to stitch the wound and avoid Death Row's piercing gaze. The only noises outside the warehouse they'd taken shelter in were train horns. Alana took comfort in the fact that the train horns were loud enough to cover up how fast her heart was beating. Being this close to someone after so long was... dangerous. "What's your real name?" he asked suddenly. Alana tore her eyes away from his body guiltily. She knew he'd caught her staring but what really perplexed her was his question. She thought about answering it. What would happen if she let this complicating man into her world? Could she let another into her life only to have them ripped away? She knew the moment her name left her lips that the game would change. They would no longer be acquaintances but possibly friends? Her lonely heart rose at the idea before fear crushed it down again. "I think it's best if we don't tell each other our real names," Alana admitted. Death Row nodded slowly as if in approval before raising his large hand to grasp hers and shake it. Alana almost squealed in surprise. "Nice to meet you, doc, I'm Mace," he introduced. Alana let out a laugh. "That's it?" she asked. "What are you—a GI Joe?" He shrugged. "Nickname stuck during my first tour," he explained. Alana continued her work. Her blue eyes flickered up once or twice when he wasn't looking. He really was wonderful to look at. Death Row—Mace—looked like a fallen wounded angel amidst the dilapidated warehouse. "So you were military," she stated nonchalantly. "Mace" must have caught onto her attempt to fish for more info. "Yes, I was," he answered squarely looking at her. Alana wanted to kick herself. Of course Death Row—Mace—wouldn't reveal too much about his real life. They were both vigilantes. Vigilantes didn't have friends. Vigilantes didn't really have much but their work. "I guess Mace is better than Death Row. Where did that even come from in the first place?" she asked curiously. Alana finished the last stitch and quickly cut the string with surgical scissors. She then reached into her medical bag and pulled out antibiotic ointment to help keep the wound clean and gauze to cover it. She worked efficiently and quietly with Mace watching her every movement. In a few minutes she finished and pulled away from Mace to survey her handy work. "Well, I guess the news thought I was some escaped convict who was on Death Row for first degree murder. It was right around the time I started hunting down Marcello and it seemed like the best name at the time," he replied simply. "They never did find the convict. He was believed to be one of Marcello's men so that explains that," he added. Mace looked down and ran a muscular hand over the bandage to check if it was secure. He nodded and began reaching for his suit top to pull it back over his naked torso. He struggled with one of the sleeves and Alana had to help him shrug into it but he soon was able to successfully pull himself together once more. Mace looked at her. "What about you? Amethyst seems a bit theatrical," he stated softly, giving her a long look. Alana felt his gaze and the heat rising in her cheeks. "You've done this before," Mace stated off topic. The closer she got the most intense the electrical charge she felt between them. They were like water slowly rising to a boil. Alana knew if she didn't get some distance from him quick she'd happily burn just to stay close to him for as long as possible. Alana nodded and pulled away from him reluctantly. "Yes, a lot of times actually," she confessed. Mace nodded in understanding. "You're lucky as hell, the bullet could've collapsed your lung, or worse, hit your heart," she said honestly. Mace looked up at her. "Why would a doctor be running around chasing down bad guys?" he asked softly. "I'm not a doctor," she replied quickly. "Well, doc, that's not really answering my question, now it is," Mace stated sternly. Alana shrugged but didn't meet Mace's calculative eyes. "Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out," she replied. Alana met his eyes finally. She wanted—no—needed to know. "What's your reason?" Mace didn't answer at first. Instead he scooted off the steel table and walked around Alana. His standoffish behavior caught her off guard. One second he was opening up and it gave her hope, then the next the walls were thrown up and the gates were locked. Yet, that had always been Mace, so many secrets swirling around in those elusive eyes of his. She wondered vaguely at the familiarity of his eyes. She may have looked into them before but in a different time, a different place. She just couldn't place it. So she simply shrugged it off as a reaction to the tension of the situation she was in. "You know... Mace," she started hesitantly. "If we are ever going to be friends, we are going to have to learn to trust each other, right?" she offered. Mace's back was to her and he stood like that for a while. "I had a family once," he began. "And one day they were taken from me and I just couldn't let it go," Mace confessed. Alana felt a stab of pain in her chest. So they were cut from the same ruined cloth? "Someone had to pay for it," he whispered so low that Alana had almost missed it. Alana didn't say anything. What could she say? The polite response would be 'I'm sorry' or 'they're in a better place now'. Her brows furrowed at those empty phrases. She should understand better than anyone how condolences didn't help anything. They were just another way to dodge the pain. She'd gone through the stages of grieving. The stages of thinking over everything that happened again and again—hoping, praying that one day the pain would fade away to a dull ache. That one day she'd be able to patch the cracks in her broken heart. That she could find the peace that she prayed her family had found. That the nightmares would ever go away. Alan felt the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Her throat burned as she tried to fight them back. Alana reached down to pick up her unmarked medic bag so she could get out of there before she embarrassed herself. She pushed past Mace and headed for the door. She made it a few feet before she stopped and turned back to him. She pulled a fresh bandage from one of the side pockets of her medic bag. She then walked up to him and pushed the bandage at his chest. His muscular hand immediately flew up to grab it. His muscular hand was warm on her smaller one. It was almost comforting to be touched by another human being. Her throat felt like sandpaper when she tried to speak. "Put this fresh bandage on it in a few hours," she spoke quickly. The sobs were quickly catching up to her. She forced them back. "You've probably bruised your collar bone so take it easy for a few days," she advised. Then she turned and made her way to the exit. "Wait a second," Mace said softly causing her to stop instantly. "No one's been this kind to me in a really long time," he said almost fumbling his words. It was the first time that he had ever shown her gratitude. She'd given his a couple hundred milligrams of a painkiller to help with the pain. His dark eyes looked up into hers and she saw something that made the cracks in her heart become more defined. They may have been different in their ways of thinking but their scars were the same. If it weren't for their circumstances she could admit they might have been able to be friends in reality. Alana sighed. Wishful thinking, she thought to herself. "Thank you," he said finally surprising the hell out of her. Perhaps not so wishful, she amended. Then Alana couldn't help it. She smiled. "That's what friends are for, right?" Alana replied honestly. Even vigilantes had to stick together sometimes. Mace shook his head before his face grew serious. "It's not just that, I know the risks you're taking by taking care of me. What I mean is how do you know that I won't be able to figure out who you are when you're medically trained and carrying around medical supplies? You might as well just tell me who you are right now," Mace affirmed. Alana stared back at him without fear. Her face was full of resolve. After a few seconds of pondering she responded and she shocked herself and him with her response. After months of hiding in the shadows, afraid that her escapades would bring harm to those that she cared about. It took her this long to realize she was alone and tired of it. "That's your decision, Mace. I can't stop you even if I wanted to. I also couldn't have left you to die after you saved me. I know the risks and as crazy as this sounds I trust you to protect my secret just like I've protected yours," she stated confidently. Mace simply stared at her after her declaration stunned. The silence was killing her so she approached him first. She stopped short about two steps away from him. The sounds of their breathing the only noises in the warehouse making their encounter seem so surreal to her. "There are no words I can give you to comfort you for your loss. Though I can promise you that we can help each other find justice for both your family... and mine. You need a friend just as much as I do. Just think about it, please?" she asked with an unsure tone. Mace nodded. Alana lifted herself up and placed a soft kiss on his right cheek just underneath his black mask. He absorbed the comfort like a drug but made no move to reciprocate. He simply basked in the kind gesture. Alana appreciated that because she didn't know if she could've resisted this time. "Take care of yourself, Mace," she whispered to him before she turned away from him left in cover of night. *~*~*~*~*~* It was the same dream every night. Alana was stocking up the ambulance when the call came in. Her medic in charge, Jensen, took the call. It had been a few minutes before their shift was over so they took the call. "Copy, this is ambulance 43 responding, headed to location, Jensen out," Jensen said efficiently before starting the engine and pulling out of St. Anthony's Hospital. Less than fifteen minutes later they pulled up to a familiar house in the suburban part of town. Alana got out of the ambulance rushed to the police officer on site to access the situation. She recognized him immediately. He worked in the same precinct as her brother, they'd graduated police academy together. "Gunnar, what's the situation?" she asked robotically. The officer's eyes met hers and she saw pity. "Hastings, you don't need to be here," he replied gently. He looked over to Jensen and waved him over. The men conversed for what seemed like an eternity before Jensen's eyes turned to her and she saw the same damned pity in their depths. She hadn't seen that pity since the day her parents had been killed. Suddenly, bile rose up in her throat and she felt the walls closing in as she took in everything around her. She vaguely remembered Jensen yelling at the officer about his unit being inconsiderate and not warning the broadcasters about what had happened. Alana looked to the three stretchers outside the house being moved into the coroner's vehicles. Two had small lumps in them and one looked to have an adult's body inside of it. She rushed over to the adult's corpse and flung back the white sheet. She screamed. Her sister's dead pale eyes stared back at her. Jensen rushed over and pulled her away from the body as she continued to scream. He pulled her past the on looking officers and other paramedics. He glared at them as he covered her protectively. "Where's my brother, Jensen?" she demanded. "He needs to know what happened here!" Jensen shook his head. "He's in inside, Hastings." Her heart cracked and the world spun into utter darkness. Alana rocketed up from her bed panting and soaked in sweat. Tears streamed down her face and she felt the sobs begin to take over. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked to calm herself. The dream was so vivid she could still smell and taste the blood. Alana flew to her bathroom, not bothering to flick the light on, and vomited violently into her toilet. After it subsided she curled into a ball on the bathroom floor and continued to cry. She felt vulnerable and helpless. It was then she finally admitted it to herself. She hadn't protected her family and she could barely take care of herself. How the hell would she be able to take down the man responsible? *~*~*~*~*~* Her phone went off a few hours later. She woke still curled up on her bathroom floor. Her sleeping pills and various prescriptions were scattered across the floor. She hadn't taken any of them in months so it would explain the nightmares returning with what felt like a vengeance. She felt the aches all over her body that were sure to become more bruises. Alana forced herself up and over to her nightstand to pick up her phone. It was a voicemail from an unknown number and fear gripped her. She picked up her phone and listened to the voicemail. A familiar voice greeted her. "Alana, it's Hayden Quinn, I was calling to see about that dinner date. I'd really love to see you again. Call me...please." He'd added the last word as if by accident. Maybe he'd been unsure of if whether she'd call him back or not. He'd then left a number he could be reached at and said he'd hope to hear from her. After the confrontation at the club Alana was more than uneasy about getting involved with Hayden now that she knew who he dealt with on a regular basis. Also, she was unsure of how he obtained her number with just knowing her first name. Men like Hayden had power and a notorious hand in the honey pot that was the city. He could probably get his hands on anything... her included. However, if Marcello was really demanding protection money from businesses in the city, Hayden would know and might be able to help her. She dialed the number Hayden had left her in his voicemail. He didn't pick up but the voicemail message confirmed it was Hayden's cellphone. She left a quick message telling him she'd love to go to dinner and that she'd talk to him later before she chickened out of the whole thing. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been on a date. Alana resolved to have her friend in the police department take a look at Hayden Quinn just to be safe. The last thing she needed was to be seeing the enemy. She sighed as Mace entered her mind. She couldn't shake him and it was beginning to affect her thinking. Her phone chimed after she'd hung up, a text. It was Laura checking up on her as usual. She didn't deserve such a good friend. She often worried that her late night activities could hurt the only family she had left. That more than any thug, drug lord, or even Marcello, scared the hell out of her. *~*~*~*~*~*