#Brodie Mack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

realmackross · 1 month

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PARTIES: @longislandcharm; @realmackross TIMING: A day or so after the Prickly Pear Farms Fire SUMMARY: Mackenzie comes to tell Winter she's leaving Wicked's Rest and say goodbye. WARNINGS: None

It was hard. The decision wasn’t something she had come to lightly, but Mackenzie had needed it. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of Wicked’s Rest. Nothing but more tragedy had plagued her life since coming to the town. Sure, there had been a few good moments, but those were fleeting, and if she wanted to have a chance at surviving. At saving what humanity was already slipping away from her, then parting ways was the way to do it. At least for a little while, especially since there had been the chance to shoot a new movie in Australia. A chance to get her career kick-started again since it seemed as though the world had collectively stopped talking about Brody’s death.

However, leaving behind Sellama, her home, Monty and Kaden, her other friends, and most of all Winter, is what was going to be the hardest. But she was going to do it the right way this time. She was going to break the news to her best friend face-to-face. Letters probably for the other people in her life, but Winter had endured the last time Mackenzie had ran getting no explanation whatsoever, only to have a chance meeting with her in a drive-in parking lot of all places.

So, without hesitating anymore, she pushed the doorbell and waited quietly, a sad, but small smile perched on her face waiting for her best friend to answer the door.

—

Her hands shook as she stood in front of her marble countertops, Winter forgetting what she had been doing after her mind had trailed off. Thoughts of what happened at Monty’s farm would seep in now and again causing adrenaline, fear, or anxiety to start up. Most of the time it was all three. Add to that the lingering fear of Wyatt’s meltdown with her and she was feeling the whole ‘never go outside again’ thing that Mack had going for her. Still, she was proud of the fact that she had fought back this time no matter how many…casualties had come from it and she was once again hiding behind the ‘them or me’ mentality to make the guilt float away.

Hearing the doorbell, her head snapped up to look towards the foyer. She couldn’t remember expecting company, her heart starting to race as that thought hit her, so she was slow to react. First she had to calm her racing heart, shake the nerves off, and make sure her hands were steady. Her feet moved forward almost of their own volition but Winter made sure to check the cameras on her phone to see who it was before she was opening the door.

“Mack, what are you doing here? You could have called and saved me from a heart attack, you know?” The door was left open as she turned to walk back to the kitchen, finding it best to not let Mack’s gaze linger on her face for too long. She’d told her about what had happened at the farm and had assured the other that she was okay but Winter didn’t want to give any more reason for questions. “Do you need to borrow something from my closet again? Because I need to know where you’re going to warrant that. Fun is needed, please don’t leave me behind.”

—

Every part of Mackenzie’s being wanted to tell her to turn and run, and the longer it took for Winter to answer the door, the more tempted she was to just say ‘fuck it’ and flee. But before she could, she heard the sound of the door unlocking before seeing her friend, the person she hadn’t seen since the party, standing there looking worse for wear. For once, Mack looked more alive than Winter, and that was really saying something, “This kind of warranted an in person visit. Plus, I’ve never seen your house so…”

The taller of the two stepped through the threshold of the doorway and quietly shut the door behind her. What she had to say was already catching in her throat, but letting her eyes wander and take in her surroundings of a house she hadn’t spent time in gave her something to focus on and prolong the news. She followed Winter into the kitchen, “Uh, no. I mean, I am going somewhere, but it’s not really a day trip sort of thing.”

Coming around to face her best friend, Mackenzie knew it would be better if she looked the woman in the eye, “So…I’m…I’m leaving, Winter. I’m leaving Wicked’s Rest. I got a call from my agent about a movie opportunity, and I’m gonna take it. I-I can’t be here anymore. Not after all that’s happened. I still don’t know where Sellama is or if she even made it out. And this town has brought mostly nothing but heartache. But I thought you deserved to know in person this time.”

—

She stopped in her tracks, the hand holding her phone falling to her side when she turned to look at her best friend. Winter had to have heard wrong, right? But Mack kept going and confirmed that what she had heard had been correct. Her first instinct was to get angry, to be mad that Mack was abandoning her again, leaving her in a town that was most likely going to kill her sooner rather than later. She could feel herself bristling, gearing up for a fight.

But…didn’t Mack deserve to be happy? Hadn’t she been preaching to the blonde that she needed to let things go and start forgiving herself? How was she supposed to do that in a town that wouldn’t let her forget what she was with reminders littered all around her?

Winter swallowed back the anger that had started inside of her, hoping that it would take with it the hurt that was bubbling up as well but that hope was futile. Tears pricked at her eyes, something she couldn’t allow Mack to see. It would make her feel bad, right? Nodding her head, she could only think of one thing to say. “Okay.” Then she turned on her heel to head towards the kitchen counter where she still couldn’t remember what she was doing before but at least the zombie couldn’t see her face. “When are you leaving?”

—

Mackenzie had expected all Hell to break loose. For tiny little bombs to drop from the ceiling booby trapping Mack in. For Henry to come possess her and hold her hostage, but it didn’t happen. Instead, all there was had been one word…okay. It somewhat stung, but it was also a relief. She was tired of fighting with people. Wicked’s Rest did that to you. Put a mental strain on you as well as the physical toll it often would take. But she could work with okay and the question that came afterwards, “It’s looking like this week. I’ve just got a few things to wrap up at home. Taylor’s flying out to meet me.”

Mackenzie shifted again. Moving so she could look Winter in the eye, and upon doing so, she could see the tears, “Is Winter Cahya crying?” The zombie couldn’t help but try and lighten the mood, despite seeing the battle scars from Winter’s fight at the farm. This town had taken so much of Mackenzie both literally and physically, and she hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t do the same to her best friend, “I’ll be back eventually. I mean it’s a job. It’s not like I’m selling my house. And hey, at least I’m not fleeing like before.” She had thought about it. Many times actually, “But just…take care of yourself, Winter. And if you need an escape, there’s a great big vast world out there. I’ll be somewhere in it. I’m not exactly sure where we’re shooting yet. I think Australia, but it could change.”

—

“Oh? Tell her I hate her and I hope she gets bitten by Jack.” She took in a breath after that, realizing her voice was betraying her by being wobbly. Why wouldn’t it work with her here? Mack deserved to do things that made her happy and she wouldn’t be the one to get in the way of that. Not that she could. When Winter’s friend made up her mind she was pretty adamant. “No.” The word was forced out, the medium looking down at the counter while she wiped the tears away as nonchalantly as she could. “Why would I be crying?”

Oh, maybe because she had taken her first life? Or maybe because the trauma of this town felt heavier knowing that her favorite person wouldn't be around to help her anymore? Or maybe, just maybe, because she would miss that favorite person more than anything?

She lifted her head, tears still flowing despite her attempts to stop them. “Will you be back? Because who would come back to this?” Winter wasn’t even sure why she was staying here herself. She told herself she needed answers but she still hadn’t gotten any of those after being here a year. For a split second she considered dropping everything and leaving with Mack. She wanted to follow the girl again and again and keep her support at all times. But it wasn’t feasible. Besides, Australia was probably worse anyway. They had giant spiders and mean kangaroos after all. “You’re the one acting like we don’t have cell phones.” But she appreciated the sentiments. “Don’t let Taylor be in charge of your brains this time. She’s such a screw up, she’ll definitely cause a zombie attack. And stay away from kangaroos. Those little shits can be mean.”

—

Mackenzie could see Winter was at her breaking point. She could hear it in her voice, especially at the threats against Taylor. And there it was, the tears. But Mackenzie didn’t have it in her to cry. She had cried so much lately that her skin had dried out, hollowing out her cheekbones revealing just how dead she really was. It took chugging water and a little help from some cosmetics just to get them puffy again. She hated being a zombie. Fuck. “Because I’m leaving. Because you went through a big ordeal just a few days ago. Because you live in this town. Should I keep going or…”

Coming around to stand by Winter’s side, she looked down at her, “It’s okay, Winter. Really. And yeah. When I can, I’ll be back. You’re here. My girl, Sellama, is here. She's a survivor, and I haven’t heard otherwise, so I’m choosing to believe she’s safe. Monty and Kaden. Despite how shitty it’s been since coming here, I’ve made a life for myself. I don’t want to give that up. At least not yet. Besides, where else am I gonna go where people actually know and accept what I am?” Mackenzie laughed softly, “And you’re the one acting like we don’t have internet. I think your grandma house is turning you into a grandma. But I will keep an eye on my brain supply and the kangaroos. I don’t think they can hurt me any worse than that bitch, Jade. Which, keep an eye out for her. That heifer is crazy.”

It was weird. This conversation. The last time, when everything had happened, Mackenzie just fled into the night. No word home. No nothing. Just her and Taylor (and apparently Brody’s ghost) just making sure she was far enough away from everything. But today, she felt like she had grown as a person. She was having a mature conversation with her best friend, despite how hard it was and how much it hurt. And it was actually going well. Winter wasn’t trying to hold her hostage or yelling, “You’re gonna be okay, Winter. You’ve got people here who care about you too. And who knows…you may even find your one true love here.” She nudged her friend playfully, “You want a hug?”

—

“So? I don’t cry, Mackenzie.” She was still fighting it despite the evidence running down her cheeks. It didn’t matter, they both knew that she would be okay in the end, she just needed her damn eyes to get the hint. “I’m fine.” Winter’s hands went up to wipe away more of those traitorous bastards, trying to make it seem like her words were true. “I’m just…I’m going…” A sigh, and then she reached out and took Mack’s hand into her own. “I’m going to miss you, okay?”

Trying to forget that she had lumped Winter in with a llama, she focused on the words that Mack was saying. They made sense, they really did, but she couldn’t help but feel like there were a lot of ‘buts’ hanging in between. It was probably her own fears whispering that Mack would never come back, telling her that their phone calls would grow less and less each day until eventually they only called on special occasions. She didn’t want that to happen but for Mack’s sake she had to give it a shot. “Don’t call me a grandma, that’s so insulting. I already have the young ones around here thinking I’m too old.” Thanks Cass. Nodding her head again, squeezed the zombie’s hand. “I’m obligated to hate the bitch so don't worry. She’ll hear from me.”

That might have been a bit of a fear as well. Who else cared? Charlie and her were fighting and who knew if that was going to stop and Finn would most definitely stick by his boyfriend’s side. Who else was there? She was the asshole who kept making enemies. It was a miracle her and Mack had made it to this point in their friendship. Still, she scoffed at the rest of her words. “Screw love. Who cares about that?” Without answering her friend Winter wrapped her arms around the girl’s middle, squeezing her as tightly as she could. It wasn’t her usual style, no, but if this was going to be the last time she saw her for a while then she would suck it up and give the girl a hug.

—

Mackenzie wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. It wasn’t often that she saw Winter let her guard down, and when she reached out and took the zombie’s hand, it was even more of a shock. Looking down at it, she could finally feel her own tears threatening to come out, but unlike when she was alive, it was a little harder now at times. How was she going to explain that one when she had to cry on cue… “I’m gonna miss you too. Maybe not the snark as much, but I am going to miss you. Just…stay out of trouble okay? That’s all I ask. Keep your comments in check. You’re not always gonna have a zombie around to eat the people threatening your life.”

The woman let go of her friend’s hand as she wiped at her own eyes and laughed at Winter’s comments about being called old and Jade. And while she had said she was going to miss the snark, deep down, she was going to miss her friend’s commentary. The way she would try to cheer Mackenzie up, when she was down. Winter was as boujee as they came, and the zombie was even going to miss that. But it wasn’t forever. At least she had hoped it wouldn’t be. And if she was being completely honest, she was afraid of what life was going to be like alone on the other side of the world with normal people. Was Wicked’s Rest an anomaly or were there other places out there that held the same kinds of creatures and people.

Feeling Winter wrap her arms around Mackenzie had been just what she had needed to release her own floodgate of tears, “Fuck, now I’m crying.” But without hesitating, she wrapped her arms around the shorter woman refusing to let go.

—

“We both know that’s not possible.” Because it wasn’t. Even when terrified, her big mouth always got her in even more trouble. It just wasn’t in Winter’s nature no matter how many times she yelled at herself to keep that tongue in check. “I’m walking trouble. It’s why we’re such good friends.” She pulled back just enough to look up at Mack’s face, smirking softly at the implication that they were one in the same. Because Mack could have a mouth too and they both knew it.

“Good, I can’t be in this on my own. That would be embarrassing.” Not that it wasn’t already. She sniffed, burying her head against Mack as the woman held her in a death grip. “Alright, so when you try surfing I’m going to need pictures of you wiping out in the waves. And watch out for the stupid spiders. And the sand sharks…don’t ask.” After a moment, she stepped out of the other girl’s grip and Winter reached up to wipe those tears away again. She must have looked like a puffed up lobster at that point. “God, we look stupid. I need an eye mask, stat.” But she still stood there, not wanting to walk away and end their long goodbye. Because once it was over that was it, they would be reduced to phone conversations and video chat for the unforeseeable future.

—

Winter was right, and as much as Mackenzie didn’t want to think of her best friend being alone to face only God knew what by herself, she knew the woman could handle herself. They had gone for most of the year without talking, and somehow they were both still standing. But that didn’t make it any easier. Goodbyes were never easy. It hadn’t been easy fleeing into the night, and it wasn’t easy facing her partner-in-crime and having to part ways. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe they would both grow from it, “You are walking trouble. I remember that time we went to that bar on the Sunset Strip and that guy wouldn’t leave me alone. You pretty much ripped him a new one.” She laughed through the tears.

Mackenzie latched onto Winter a little tighter not wanting to let her go, “Uh, yeah, never gonna happen, but nice try. As for the spiders, maybe I’ll bring one back to you for a souvenir.” Mack had already faced a spider that was bigger than she was. Australia spiders probably had nothing on Wicked’s Rest. But sand sharks? She didn’t dare tempt that one. Losing one leg was already enough.

Feeling her heart break just a little as they separated, she was quickly cheered up by Winter’s request for an eye mask, “You’re so fucking spoiled, Winter. Don’t ever change.” Mackenzie wiped her own eyes, before letting out a soft sigh, “Well, I guess…I guess this is it. I’ve gotta go home and get packed up. It’s gonna be weird living in the future.” She laughed, a sadness now falling over her, “You’ll have to come visit. Get out of Wicked’s Rest…” Prolonging the reality of things felt right, but she also knew it couldn’t last forever, “I love you, Winter. Take care of yourself, and that ghost of yours.” She noticed Henry standing just in the other room and waved at him, before turning her attention back to her friend, “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of months.” She stammered kicking at the ground, not wanting to leave.

—

“He deserved it. I would have slapped him too if you hadn't dragged me away.” Her usual demeanor was starting to return as Winter wiped away the last of her tears. There was still a gruffness to her voice but she refused to let herself keep showing the weakness that came with losing Mack. “I’ll kill you again if you bring me a spider, BB. I’ve got experience now.” Nodding matter of factly she tried not to show how much that statement bothered her. Mack needed to go and enjoy her life as much as she could, she didn’t need to worry about the medium while she did that. There was nothing she could do from across an ocean anyway.

“Oh, they can pry my eye masks from my cold dead fingers. Trust me, that will never change.” She would have laughed if she wasn’t so damn serious, Winter knowing damn well that those eye masks saved her sanity on more than one occasion. But those thoughts drifted while the weight of the whole situation started to press in on her as Mack started to say her last goodbyes. Winter’s eyes were watering again but she wouldn’t let them fall, not this time. “I love you too, Mackenzie. So much, you have no idea.”

It hurt like hell waiting for her to open that door…and waiting…and waiting. After too long of a beat, Winter finally laughed while shaking her head. “Leaving requires you to walk out the door, babe.” As much as she didn’t want to, she knew that it had to come sometime and she really didn’t want to keep crying all night. It was already embarrassing enough, especially now that Henry was witnessing it. She opened the door, let Mack pass through while rubbing her back gently, and then stood in the doorway as she watched the girl get into her car.

“Come back to me in one piece, please.”

#para: it's time to go #para: winter #longislandcharm #wickedswriting

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deathsplaything · 2 months

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Timing: Current Location: The Good Keep Parties: Alistair (@deathsplaything), Daiyu (@bountyhaunter), Emilio (@mortemoppetere), Vic (@natusvincere), Mack (@realmackross), Zane Summary: Daiyu, Alistair, Vic, Emilio, and Zane enact their plan on the keep, freeing Mack along the way. Content Warnings: gun use, suicide (act of, not emotional), head trauma (zombie death), medical blood (artery/vein mentions)

The Keep was an ugly place. All places with cages were.

The Keep was an ugly place. All places with cages were, Daiyu knew that much — there was no beauty to be found behind or in front of bars. It was a lesson she’d learned as a child, her father’s fingers digging between the vertebrae of her neck as he made her look at the creatures in their own holding cells. Back then she’d been impressionable enough to see them as just that, as creatures in constant losing battle with humanity. But she knew better now. Which was to say, she knew that keeping anything stuck behind a set of bars with no other purpose than to remove them from society was cruel. A swift kill was better. A swift kill was merciful.

She had walked into one of the various rooms inside the Keep with Alistair a while ago. Today was the day they would put their plan to action. The day some of those cell doors would open and release their prisoners, whereas some of the rest would die. She’d pulled up to Mack Ross’ cell with the necromancer, offering a bit of Snicker-Snacker brain through the bars as they’d updated her on the plan.

The thrill of anticipation made Daiyu restless and she glanced between the two of them before looking down at her watch. “Near time,” she said, wanting to just go ahead and take out some of the other creatures in the room and get this bit over with. She flexed her fingers, knowing that it’d be a while before they were free to flex like this. Soon enough they’d be filled with weapons and at work. She stared at Mack for a moment, wondering if the blonde would try to eat her brain to avenge the way Daiyu had bashed hers in. “Just get the fuck out of dodge and don’t mention this shit. ”

—

Mackenzie had been confined, to what was looking to be her new home, for a week now. Or at least that’s what she thought. In all honesty, the days had mostly been running together. And without human brains to fully sustain her, Mack was just doing her best to hang on to her sanity. It’s why, when Daiyu offered her a piece of the Snicker-Snacker brain, she quickly snatched it out of the woman’s hand and shoved it in her mouth just trying to savor what it provided – which wasn’t much. But her days of begging had passed. There had been no sense in it, especially knowing the longer she was here the more time she had with Brody.

Instead, Mack looked to Daiyu, and Alistair, of all people, someone she thought she could call her friend, for reference of what was about to go down. Sure, there had been whispers and talk throughout her stay, and she tried to relay what she could to Daiyu hoping that it would save her from the possibility of being put down like some of her other cellmates in the keep. But she wasn’t sure how good it was proving to be — at least not until Daiyu had told her to “get the fuck out of dodge”, but to not mention it? Oh, she was going to mention it. At least to people she trusted, which definitely wasn’t the two people standing in front of her.

Swallowing the last of the brain, the blonde, who looked paler than normal, set her dark, dead eyes onto Daiyu. Her glare was cold, and instead of replying vocally, she merely nodded her head.

—

It was hard knowing the name of a prisoner, knowing their life. Knowing Mack, it made everything different for Alistair. It made their blood boil, knowing that they were responsible for this. No matter how they tried to spin it, they were at fault just as much as Winnifred was. They were a monster, plain and simple. Not the people in these cages. All this just to keep up a status quo that their family had insisted was the correct way.

They kept quiet as the conversation between Daiyu and Mack took place, or… instructions from Daiyu and Mack’s silence, anyway. “It’s going to get messy,” Alistair said simply. “You don’t want to be here when shit hits the fan, they’ll kill you if they catch you loose,” the spellcaster explained to Mack. “I…” They stopped themselves. An apology would do nothing, it was nothing because they were nothing. “I’m sorry they got you.” They finally said, the words like acid etching in his throat.

It wouldn’t make anything better, it would change what happened, but at least they had said it. It felt vulnerable, being without Brutus. But Alistair would rather die a thousand times over than let his companion get hurt because of his actions. “Right, then,” Alistair spoke simply, eyes darting around at various sounds, different clangs and bumps that they couldn’t decipher. “Let’s do this, then.” They muttered, bringing their hand into a tight fist, a pale green smoke curling around their feet, then darting toward the door, forcing it open and near off its hinges. “Come on, then.”

Nervous energy thrummed like electricity beneath his skin, ready for a fight. Emilio’s leg bounced where he stood, eyes darting around every so often to scan the perimeter. Alistair and Daiyu had done their part with the information gathering; there was only one guard to take care of out front, and he was easily dispatched and dragged away. (Not dead, but he’d have one hell of a headache when he woke up half naked and tied to a tree. Emilio only found it a little funny.)

He flipped the keys between his fingers, shifting his grip on the bag he had thrown over his shoulder. Food for the prisoners they were freeing (which would keep them from becoming food for those same prisoners) and weapons for the inevitable fight to come. Naturally, Emilio had elected to carry the latter, feeling a little more at ease with a duffel full of sharp things thrown over his shoulder.

Slipping the key into the lock, he turned back to his companions. “Anyone who wants out, this might be your last shot,” he warned. “Going to get busy fast in here. So if you’re not all in…” He let it hang, looking to Vic and Zane in turn.

—

The internal conflict had grown considerably over the last few days, while stealing bags of blood from the hospital and helping Emilio pack up an intimidating array of weapons that Zane naively hoped they wouldn’t need to use. There was no avoiding violence though, the first of it rearing his heads before they were even inside. At least it had been quick and Zane had managed to replace his worry with a mildly disapproving look at Emilio, who seemed to be enjoying it.

Fixing the bag strap digging into his shoulder, a heavy weight of blood, brains and some gauze he’d shoved into the bag in a panic, Zane was confronted with the fact that there was no more time for conflict. He thought about nameless people behind bars, starved, lonely and scared with no one else coming to the rescue. “All in,” he confirmed, meeting Emilio’s gaze and giving a curt nod. It wasn’t just for the slayer, Zane truly was all in now. There were people that needed help and there was a shot that he could help them.

—

Vic was going to help as many supernaturals as she could. She had to. It was the whole point of all of this- of evening joining the good neighbors in the first place. She so desperately wanted to redeem the awful things she’d done to vampires in the past- the felt like the only strong start she had. She was even donating some of her own stored blood for the cause (praying, of course, that no one would ask where or why she’d acquired such a stash).

She looked between Emilio and Zane, nodding in agreement instead of voicing whether or not she was ready. Her voice like to betray her with emotion, it was best to stay quiet. She adjusted the backpack on her shoulder, stuffed with explosives and weapons and anything else they might need to distract or deflect,....or to possibly do something worse that she wasn’t keen to think about. “Let’s make this quick”, she said after a moment, ready to storm in with the two of them as soon as the door was open and ready.

Her eyes danced between Mack and Alistair, the apology heavy in her mind. She didn’t have one to give to the actress — Daiyu wasn’t equipped for apologies and besides, this was her way of making it up to her. That, and the animal remains she’d been bringing in. “Cool.” There was a moment of hesitation that washed over her but eventually she tugged at a knife strapped to her outer thigh, pulling it out and handing it hilt forward to Mack. Handing your kidnapping victim a weapon was pretty stupid, but this entire ordeal reeked of stupidity. Luckily, that was completely on brand for Daiyu.

She gave one more glance to her watch, threw up an awkward peace-sign and scurried off to the cells on the other side of the room. It was hard to ignore the tension growing in her stomach. Daiyu did not like to hunt with an audience. She did not like to be perceived when she was at her most natural and most true, when her violent side shone brightly and perhaps to some, even beautifully. It was in witnessing her violence that she was most loved and accepted back home, and it was in that aftermath that she was always most alone. And this time it wasn’t even like she was getting down and dirty, like she was fighting an evenly-matched fight. This time she was shooting bolts into cages. For all the big talk she’d had of staking vampires and killing lamia back at her place, she felt an immense weight of dread now.

But she was not a coward. Though Daiyu realized now that she’d prefer to release everyone and just fight tooth and nail, there was a plan. If anything, she owed it to the people of the town — as well as the people on her … what were they? A team? — to stick to said plan. She halted at one of the cages that held a vampire, who eyed her with the thrill of someone who’d be released. She could already see that scenario play out: she’d open the cage and the vicious creature would grin, bare its fangs and sink them into her neck. This vampire was a prisoner now, falling victim to her lack of mercy, but out there he’d been the monster underneath beds, drainer of bodies, the killer of plenty.

So she flipped the mental switch, undid the sling on her crossbow and held it up. In it lay wooden bolts, but with her she’d brought silver and regular bolts as well. The vampire stared at her, then snarled at her, then rattled its bars and Daiyu didn’t hesitate, loosening the bolt and landing it square in the vampire’s chest so its vicious pleas would end. Dust filled the cage seconds later and she turned to face the next undead creature caged away, nimble fingers putting in another bolt and taking aim before another word could be said. And maybe she should be saying something, but there were no words in her mouth.

—

Mackenzie set her attention on Alistair. The apology, at least in this moment, didn’t mean much to her. She had been held captive like some kind of feral animal. If there was one person she figured would have loved this, it would have been Emilio, but he wasn’t here, and she was grateful for that. But in a plume of smoke and a sudden release of the bars, Mackenzie found herself grateful for her freedom. But was she really completely free? It was a question that quickly raced through her mind as she contemplated running. Running had meant true freedom, but it had also meant there was a greater possibility of being put down. So she stayed, and instead took the knife that was being handed to her.

So they kidnap me. Release me. And then give me a knife? She looked down at the weapon and then up where Daiyu had been standing, only to see her scurrying off. Good. You better run. With everything that had happened recently in her life, Mackenzie Ross wasn’t in a good place mentally, and putting on a show for her adoring fans wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

Shifting her line of sight, she looked back up at Alistair, “So what? I’m just supposed to follow you now? Put down my own kind? Got it.” Her voice was flat and held no emotion as she followed Alistair.

—

They stayed quiet as Mack questioned them, to which she was well within her right to do so. “You’re within your rights to leave, just do so with care,” Alistair spoke as they made their way to the cage of one zombie, who had been a long-time problem in town. “Come here,” Alistair instructed the zombie, who snarled in response, striking at them with speed. “Thank you,” they muttered with a roll of their eyes, their magic suddenly seeping into the zombie, rendering them completely within the necromancer’s control.

“Well? What’ll it be? Are you leaving or are you staying to take this place down?” Alistair asked Mack as they took out an obsidian blade and forced it through the creature’s neck, all while it had no way of defending itself. “Disgusting,” Alistair muttered under their breath as they wiped the blade clean from the undead’s blood on their pantleg. “Some of who you see have committed grievous crimes, some have not.” Alistair kicked the body in front of them lightly, then stepped over it once they knew where it was. “But the Good Neighbors are anything but good, which you know now. That’s why Daiyu and I are here. We’re taking it down.”

Alistair stopped walking after a moment, then turned in Mack’s direction, frowning. “Tommy lost Melody,” they told her in a hushed tone. “If something happens to me, he has no one, do you understand? I’m doing this for him.”

Once the door was open and they were inside, Emilio knew things would move a little more quickly. Neither Zane nor Vic seemed interested in taking the final out, and Emilio himself had decided to stay a while ago and wouldn’t be changing his tune now. With a curt nod to each of them in turn, he pushed the door open and stepped into the Keep.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, really, but it looked just as dingy and miserable as it sounded, and there was something almost comforting about that. It was better, Emilio thought, when bad places looked bad. Turning back to his companions, he nodded. “Should be one guard inside,” he stated. “You see them, you take them out. Knock them out, shove them into one of the cages, whatever you think is best. Not here to babysit.” He’d brought zipties to secure anyone they needed to, but he wasn’t going to follow his allies around with them. He trusted Zane enough to do whatever he thought was right. He didn’t have much of a choice but to trust the rest, too.

With that out of the way, Emilio got to work. He made a beeline for one of the cages, pulling some of the zombie food Monty had provided from his bag and shoving it through the bars. A hand took it greedily, and he hung back as the quiet sounds of wet munching filled the space surrounding him.

“Caroline,” he greeted, “right?”

She stepped forward. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Emilio. Raisa hired me to find you.”

The woman snorted. “I hope she paid you well.”

“Could be paying me better,” Emilio responded dryly, “but I guess that only matters if I don’t get killed. Come on. Let’s get you out of there, yeah? I open the door, you run. Anyone who’d stop you should be busy.”

Slipping the keys Daiyu and Alistair had provided into the lock, he hoped Zane and Vic were making quick work of the other cells.

—

Watching Emilio head the other way was daunting - everything smelled of damp rot, blood and pain and Zane couldn’t pretend it didn’t fill him with unease. Still, the quicker they did this, the quicker they could get out of here. Vic was… an enigma but so far, a helpful one. It was an odd thing, going cell by cell, confirming who they were here to rescue as previously agreed upon before Zane procured either blood or brains to revert the victims back to something that more resembled a person. Then Vic got them out, everyone getting the same instructions to hurry on out of there. He tried not to let his gaze linger on the cells they walked past but usually failed, face set but eyes betraying how he actually felt about leaving these people behind. It was harder to see them as pure evil when they’d gone from names on a paper to living (technically) things.

This was not the place for a moral dilemma, it was distracting - not the right frame of mind for a break in rescue mission. Maybe it would have gotten him on edge enough to remember Emilio’s warning about the guard. As it was, Zane remembered the slayer’s words the moment a knife lodged itself into his back where he recklessly stood facing away from the area they had not yet cleared. Thinking how grateful he was that Emilio had not witnessed this, and also that this guard didn’t seem to know he was dealing with a vampire, Zane turned fast enough to catch the assailant off guard. He looked young.

It was tempting to give him a chance to run, to simply leave, but he was already reaching for a second weapon and Zane didn’t want to give him a chance to reach for the correct one. When his fist collided with skin and bones, it was odd - he was so used to Emilio dodging or blocking his attacks that actually having them land made Zane immediately guilty. There was no time for that, however, as Zane needed to be the one dodging a hit now, grasping the young man’s arm and shoving him into one of the cells they had just emptied. “Close it!” he called to Vic. The quiet snarling from other, still occupied cells grew a bit louder.

—

As they entered the keep, Vic prepared herself for the strong stench of blood, but nothing quite could have prepared her for what they found inside. Despair, pain, devastation… it was literally laid out in front of them, and Vic had to take a moment to still herself before she continued. Back when she was betraying vampires instead of trying to help them, Vic didn’t do the dirty work. She manipulated others into killing, and maiming, and life destroying, and she let herself make money from other people’s despair. Seeing something like this in front of her, it felt like a personification of all the wrong she’d done over the last few centuries.

Facing it now, she wasn’t sure she’d ever do enough to make up for it.

Emilio and Zane got busy fast, and to the others, it probably seemed she did, too. Her hesitation was only for a moment, but it seemed too long in her mind. There was no time to waste. She got to work, and it felt good. Guiding those out that had been locked up for so long, offering them food and safety… it felt like something that she should have been doing all along. But her eyes kept snapping to a cage they had intentionally kept shut, one the group had decided days ago was filled with someone who did not deserve a second chance. She couldn’t stop picturing herself in there, alone in the world and desperate to prove she could be better.

Zane, the one without a heartbeat, was distracted with a fight of his own. She looked down at the ring of keys Emilio had given her, quickly realizing the one that opened the cage that held this woman was in her set. Quietly, and when no one else was looking, she bit her lip, opening the cage she wasn’t supposed to and granting freedom to someone that other’s felt didn’t deserve it. She shoved blood in the woman’s hands, and sent her on her way just in time for Zane to call out to her.

Apparently he’d won his fight, and there was no time to think about what she’d just done. In a flash, she ran over to the cage he was struggling by, slamming the gate closed just in time to lock the guard in for good. “Good riddance”, she spat as she locked the door, making sure to maintain eye contact. See how he liked a taste of his own medicine.

She looked over to Zane, searching for any visible injuries. “You okay?”, she asked genuinely, scanning the room for Emilio as well. “How you doing over there?”

—

One room was done, the prisoners either disposed or run of and the ground covered in lighter fluid. Daiyu did not bother to look over her shoulder as she moved onto the next one. The Keep was well-organized, prisoners separated in different rooms and then divided over different cells. And though it looked medieval, the way the prisoners were placed had been done with great care and perfect administration. Rooms were given letters, cells were given numbers and records went back years recounting who had been where. On a scrap of paper, she had noted down which letter-number combinations were supposed to meet a final end tonight.

Pragmatism was a skill hard-learned and far to find, but today Daiyu moved with a methodical coolness. It helped that she got to fight. That when they went from one room to the second, there was something for her body to do. A crossbow to reload, a gun to cock, a key to turn. She didn’t talk much — that part of her was gone now, that chatty side that was hard to kill.

So the second room was done too, and onto the third they went. The tally of prisoners freed and prisoners killed was ignored, as was the grime that had gathered under her nails, and Daiyu looked at Mack and Alistair for a moment, wondering where their heads were at as she placed down some explosives. “All good?” As if it mattered how they were feeling, how their souls were doing under these strenuous circumstances.

There was work to do. Onto the third room, where mostly shifters were housed. Daiyu swung open the door of a cell that held two lamia, cocking her gun at one of them as she brandished her knife against another, pressing them up against the wall, iron against their throat. “No funny moves.” She glared at the other, the one at the mercy of her pistol and gestured at the cell door. “Get out. If we hear one bad word, you’re done for.” Yellow eyes flashed at her at the threat and she pulled the hammer, finger dancing on the trigger. The lamia under her knife wiggled and she didn’t think much of it until its knee moved up to connect with her groin.

She was quick to act, the weapon still in her hand, the other still unarmed and underfed. As a groan passed from her lips, she whipped into the other lamia’s direction, slamming her head against theirs. The impact was immediate, both on her head and that of the other and she watched the creature stumble, taking opportunity of its dazedness to bring her blade down into its throat. Blood bubbled and spurted down and she let go of the knife’s hilt, gun aimed at the other once more. “Run. Or don’t.” A drop of blood trailed down her face. “Your choice.” And after a moment of hesitation, the lamia chose the strongest instinct of all – the instinct to survive – and scurried off, leaving Daiyu with her bleeding out lamia.

Navigating the keep without Brutus was difficult, but not impossible. With a few tricks of their sleeves, Alistair used their mobility cane to navigate over to a room that housed vampires, vampires who weren’t well fed, who would be chomping at the bit to see them dead. The idea filled them with dread, but they had prepared for this. They would do something that they’d fought off since they were a child, the ability to do what was demanded of them, their magical right. Necromancy.

Entering the room was easy, and the vampires all rushed toward them, ready to tear him apart for the atrocities they’d committed to not just them, but everyone in this keep. But they stopped on a dime, Alistair’s hand raised above their head. The vampires’ eyes went wide with fear as they were forced to walk toward the necromancer, their moves jolted and awkward.

“You can go free, or you can be killed by my hand,” Alistair told them all, brows lofted high, daring them to attack them as they ceased their spellcasting. The vampires now knew what they were capable of, and were smart enough to not try again. To be a necromancer was to be feared by the undead. Something they were once ashamed of, but not in this moment. In this moment, they were powerful.

The prisoners in the room looked at each other with fear, then nodded their heads in agreement. “We will leave town,” one spoke up with a frown. “We will not act in ways that would have us be under your control or imprisoned again,” another said. Alistair nodded their head slowly, then backed out of the room, allowing the vampires' passage to leave, which they took without so much as a second glance.

Alistair frowned, then took out the lighter fluid from their pocket and began to squirt it around the room, their face contorting at the smell. The deed had been done, it was time to move to the next room and repeat the process. Once again, the necromancer would control the room of the undead, only to give them a choice. Most took it, but some? Some wanted nothing more than revenge, something Alistair wouldn’t give them the chance to have. Instead, they’d allow the revenge-bent undead to charge toward them, then freeze them in place, a wicked grin spreading across their face as the undead were forced to raise their hands to their heads and pull. The creatures pulled their heads from their body, and then fell over dead. It caused those who chose to run stagger backward, then run for their lives, lest the necromancer get them.

Mackenzie didn’t want to follow in Alistair and Daiyu’s path. She didn’t want to kill other zombies, especially knowing Brody, though hidden from sight, was somewhere in the keep. And instead of sticking close by, she made her way forwards to another room occupied with creatures who were coherent and others who weren’t, “Okay, Mackenzie, just do what you’re supposed to, so you can get out of this and go home…”

Going to each cell, she looked everyone over one by one. What was their story? What did their life have to say about them? Everyone here was someone at one point right? Not a monster that survived by harming other people, like herself. It was as if the roles had reversed, and she had become judge, jury, and executioner. Looking in on some people who were chomping at the bit to destroy her out of what? Anger or just a primal instinct to feed that was somehow activated after a bout of unfortunate luck.

It had felt like the roles had been reversed. The part she auditioned for so many times, only to be rejected, had finally become reality. But she didn’t like this reality. When she was zombed out, she couldn’t control her actions. Couldn’t decide who lived and who died. She was simply trying to survive, unless someone was directing her in the path of an intended target. And she knew, from first hand experience, that this was a fact of the zombies in the room. The other undead and shifters, she dared not judge, because she didn’t know their story. And as she walked by each individual cell, she looked into their eyes. Some, sad and heartbroken. Other’s, angry and confused.

“I-I can’t do this…” It wasn’t until she got to the cell of a zombie that the decision she was trying to avoid like hell smacked her hard in the face. Storming the bars and sticking her arms through trying to rip and claw at Mackenzie’s dead flesh, was a young woman around her age, and unfortunately, because she hadn’t been fed in so long, the zombie virus had taken full control leaving her eyes hollow, except with one goal in mind…brains.

It was as if Mackenzie was seeing an alternate version of herself. The version that she imagined she looked like after touching the Flats, but worse. This girl had been starved and deprived of what she had needed to survive. The only way she ever had a chance at continuing to live a normal life had been ripped away from her, and Mackenzie’s heart immediately began to crack. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to this girl, her family, or even to the former actress and what she was being forced at that moment to do. But she couldn’t prolong this girl’s suffering. And without giving it any more thought, she stepped forward.

Coaxing the other zombie in, who was ready and willing to rip Mackenzie’s head from her shoulders, she slowly pulled the knife up and out of view of the girl within the cell, “I’m so, so sorry…Please forgive me…” And without waiting any longer, Mackenzie rammed the blade as hard as she could through the ear of her fellow undead and twisted it in deep, until she felt the other zombie go slack in her arms.

Air caught in her throat as her breath hitched, and she yanked the hunting knife back out – brain matter and darkened sludge sliding off the blade. And as she stepped back, she watched the girl, whose name she didn’t know; whose story she didn’t know; and whose family would never see her again, fall to the floor. The room fell silent as they waited to see what the actress turned zombie was going to do next.

“I’m not doing this again, so when I let you go just fucking run, okay?”

Her head hung low, before she looked around and decided to let everyone else out with the keys she had been given earlier by Daiyu and Alistair.

—

It was methodical, the way he moved from one room to the next. He let Zane and Vic take most of the cells that would be opened for their inhabitants to go free. Emilio didn’t know Vic, but he knew Zane well enough to know that the nurse would have a multitude of complicated feelings about killing anyone, even if it was someone who needed killing. Those same moral limits didn’t quite exist in Emilio. If he felt anything at all as he shoved a stake through the bars of one of the cells and turned its inhabitant to dust, he didn’t let that feeling linger. There was no time for it, no space. He’d freed who he’d come here to free; if it was better for him to play executioner to spare the others from such a fate, he’d do so.

He slipped into the next room on his list, eyes darting around in a quick sweep. Zane must have taken care of the guard on duty; with Daiyu and Alistair working their side of things, there wasn’t much resistance left. Still, Emilio couldn’t let himself believe that this would go over easily. Something in the back of his mind that had lived there for years now reminded him that things were going to go wrong here. Something bad would happen; people would be hurt. It was better, he thought, to accept that sort of thing upfront. It was the only way to hold on to any semblance of control.

This cell could be opened. Emilio felt relief in it, hated himself a little for that. It shouldn’t matter to him, and he knew it. He didn’t used to be so soft, didn’t used to ache this way. But this cage could be opened, and slipping the key into the lock felt a little like a rescue for him, too. A hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. He looked up, following the arm it was attached to to a face.

“I know you,” the woman inside rasped. Dread pooled in Emilio’s stomach.

“Don’t think so,” he replied gruffly, yanking his hand back. She tightened her grip, and his free hand tightened on the stake he’d been idly holding.

“I do,” she insisted. “You saved me.”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “Not yet.” The cell was still closed.

“There was — a resort. It wasn’t what it was supposed to go. I went there. I went there with…”

She trailed off, and it all came flooding back. This woman, on the floor of a different concrete room, blood on her mouth and a body in the floor beside her. She’d been one of the fledglings he and Teddy freed from the god-awful spa resort in town, one of the ones he’d dropped off at Zane’s place and forgotten about. She must have left his house eventually; Emilio was sure several of them had. But how long had she been here? How long had she been free before trading one prison for another?

And what did it say about him, he wondered, that he’d only managed to save her halfway?

He pulled his hand free this time, trying to stop it from trembling as he slid a key into a lock. “Find Zane,” he told her flatly. “He’s got blood.” He’s better at this part than I am. He knows how to talk to people. He’s a better man.

“Thank you,” she said as she stepped out of the cell. He said nothing, and she disappeared.

With a white-knuckle grip around his stake, the executioner moved to the next room.

—--

Heaving a sigh of relief as the cell slammed shut, Zane was acutely aware that just because he hadn’t fatally injured the man that didn’t mean he was walking out of here alive. Faintly, amidst the smell of damp and rot and fear, he could pick up on gasoline. Being left down here was a death sentence. “I’m fine,” he said dryly, barely registering the pain in his back - it felt miniscule under the weight of how this night would end. “Let’s finish up and find Emilio again.” Emilio found them first, in the form of a released prisoner that looked all too familiar. Jodie, his buzzing mind provided. As if one prison hadn’t been enough, this woman had been locked up again. As she fed and Zane provided detailed instructions on the quickest way back to the house, he found himself wondering that there had to be a non-human psychologist somewhere out there, one that would be capable of helping out with the aftermath of this more than Zane ever could.

By the time every cell that was supposed to be opened had been opened, incendiary fluid spread around, Zane was filled to the brim with this odd feeling of relief, melancholy and dread. Back at that cabin, amidst all the fighting and deciding who deserved to live, no one had treaded lightly around the fact that this would be dangerous, possibly deadly. Probably deadly, even, and that hadn’t just been Emilio’s pessimism. If all they had left to do now was light this place up and not get caught inside while the flames took care of business, it seemed… Zane barely dared to even think the word but… easy. It was like risking the chance to call a shift at the hospital quiet.

Just like they’d planned, because things were still going according to plan, Emilio met him and Vic where they’d discussed. The hunter looked detached, dust and dark fluids covering his sleeves and front. Zane pointedly avoided looking at it. “That’s it? We finish the few cells we have left and get out?” He didn’t bother hiding his disbelief, that things might actually be fine despite them so rarely being fine.

The chaos wasn’t going to cease. No matter how many people Vic set free, there was another beside her being staked or left behind for crimes they might not have been able to control. She wanted to weep for the loss; for the waste of it all. She thought back to their meeting in the cabin, to Emilio’s insistence that it was more merciful this way. And he was right, wasn’t he? Those that the others were killing weren’t only being released from Winnifred’s prison, but from the entrapment of their cursed afterlife, too. Before Rosie, this kind of mercy would have tasted so sweet.

So why, then, did her heart twist with every death she watched?

She didn’t know these people, not a lick, but there was an immediate sense of calm and relief when she and Zane were reunited with Emilio. And then again, when Daiyu and Alistair appeared, and the celebrity prisoner Mackenzie they had discussed freeing at the meeting. (Vic would never had admitted to looking her up). The six of them had almost finished their job, as gruesome as some of it was, and they were all alive. Well… sort of. “Yes… that’s… that’s it!” That was…it?! She wanted to embrace them, to take them in her arms and celebrate their sweet victory. She almost did, too, but a sudden, blaring siren sound cut her off. To call it loud was an understatement, and she initially covered her ears because the sound was so shocking. Confused, she looked between her companions, then at the walls that surrounded them. “What the fuck is that?”

#Storming The Keep Pt. 1 #threads #gun use tw #suicide tw #medical blood tw #head trauma tw #plot; good neighbors #bountyhaunter #natusvincere #mortemoppetere #realmackross #ft: zane #ft: good neighbors

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