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The tall man with burning eyes got taller the closer he came. He towered even over this Jack fellow she found herself uneasily allied with. For a moment, she found herself shrinking behind Jack, just out of reflex.
What came next almost insulted her. Not interested in her indeed. Well. She'd use it to her advantage. While the muscle was busy with her new 'friend', she took a step back and to the side, back and too the side. She was going to manage a slow drift until she thought she could outrun Mr. Tall to his little Imp. She imagined she was faster than Mr.Tall could have guessed, and she just might be able to get at a good enough angle without alerting him.
Jack would have to take care of himself for a moment, and she dare say he could do it. He rather seemed the type in his own brash way.
Another step. She was already plotting her path through the strange massive bodies stripped of their flesh all over the floor. If she saw the right opportunity, she would bolt for the boy and use him as a shield against his own minions. It was a bold plan, but she only had one right now.
Jack’s eyes narrowed as the taller man came to him. He’d seemed tall from afar, but towering over him Jack found himself straightening his posture to give himself an extra few centimeters. “I’ll do whatever I need to do,” he said tightly, cutting his eyes to the woman behind him. She seemed a little more intimidated by the man’s height, more than Jack himself would allow the man to see. Jack’s stoic expression faltered a little as the man’s words changed from threatening to...
“Are you flirting with me?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow as he gave the man a once-over. He was certainly tall, dark, and mysterious, but most of Jack’s suitors did not happen to cause the death of hundreds of Weevils. “I have to say that I’m flattered,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“He isn’t flirting with you,” the boy said, his fists clenching angrily as pale blue eyes glared at the human.
Jack’s first instinct when the man grabbed his face was to shove his knife into the man’s heart, but Sarah’s movement caught Jack’s attention from the corner of his eye, and he subtly shifted so that the Reaper’s back was to Sarah and the boy. “Well, I’m certain your interest isn’t all I could pique,” he said, a smirk on his lips.
Iblîs bristled angrily, biting his tongue to keep from speaking any further. He huffed and crossed his arms, looking away, obviously cross. He saw the girl moving towards him but he continued to look away, deciding he’d play along with whatever she had planned. She finally made a move and grabbed him. She was much taller than him – nearly a full seven inches. He grasped at her arms, thrashing hard, but not hard enough to jerk away from her.
“Let me go! I don’t want to hurt you,” Iblîs said. He let out a genuine yelp of pain as her arm brushed against one of his bruises. “That hurt, you young idiot!” he snapped, cheeks flushed angrily. “Stop!” he said, squirming in her arms once more.
Jack smirked at the taller man and reached up, jabbing his fingers into the bite mark on his neck.
At the current moment, The Reaper was too preoccupied with trying to riddle out Jack. The man that stood before him was a walking talking fixed point in time, unable to be altered and it was sending the most delightful chills up his spine. He was very curious to see just how much of a fixed point he was. A little experiment. He gently reached to grasp the silvery handle of his walking cane. It would be all to easy to simply flick his wrist and bury his blade in the soft center of his abdomen, but he seemed to be feeding off of this man in a sense.. That was.. until he spoke again.
“Are you flirting with me? I have to say that I’m flattered,”
Iblis' tone of annoyance echoed in his ears and a smirk tugged on his lips.. Flirting? Indeed not. The Reaper was no some doe eyed school girl. He didn't flirt. If he wanted something, he would say it outright.
“Well, I’m certain your interest isn’t all I could pique,”
A cold gleam flashed into those deep blue eyes as they began to grow pale, a cold steely sheen of grey as he leaned down over him, putting their faces rather close “No... You couldn't” But his thoughts were interrupted when there was a sudden movement from behind and he heard Iblis' rather annoyed voice cry out in protest. He turned to see that the woman had a rather firm grasp on his counterpart. The glare he shot the woman could have snuffed out the sun in ice. “Woman, I warn you...” But the next thing he felt was a pair of fingers roughly jabbing into the round in his throat.
If he did not have the pain tolerance he did, he surely would have gone to his knees. Instead, he smirked and tightly grasped Jack by the throat and lifted him right off his feet. “I often find that stupidity such as yours is often mistaken for bravery. Allow me to educate you” and the sword was flicked free of the hilt and neatly pressed into Jack's abdominal cavity and twisted to the side. He dropped Jack and let him fall and turned to the woman and slowly approached. ”Tell me, my dear.. Just how high is your tolerance for pain?” His eyes flashed a near white as the Time Lord focused on that bundle of nerves that rested just behind her eyes and felt his mind twist it, inflicting what, at first only felt like the beginnings of a migraine.
In that moment every monster, every cad, every brigand who had grabbed her became her teacher. She was the monster now, knowing all to well how to hold the boy tight in her arms in such a way that kicking feet and small sharp teeth were little threat to her. She held hard, clutching even tighter as Jack Harkness was efficiently impaled before her.
She'd seen death before, and this was a bad way to go. Brutal. She knew now his brashly handsome face would haunt her along with the rest of the rolls of the dead in her dreams. Sometimes she hoped remembering their names would help keep their tormented faces out of her dreams. It didn't work, but she didn't know what else to do. Jack's blood mingled with the Weelvil blood that coated the floor.
Now the murderer was descending upon her, gangly, looming and ghoulish. She held the boy so hard she didn't even notice she'd lifted his feet off the ground.
”Tell me, my dear.. Just how high is your tolerance for pain?" The slender giant asked her, a blazing anger in it's eyes. An aching wave of pain between her brows made the meaning of the thing's words all too clear. Her mouth popped softly open at the intimacy of that touch, and her lack of defense against it. Her eyes flickered to Jack, wondering how soon she'd be joining him.
She was also busy listening. Things had clearly gotten out of hand. If the Doctor was coming, if he somehow knew as he somehow did, now would be when he would come. But she clutched the child and remained solely in the company of these two bloodthirsty entities and their victims. She'd heard the yip of pain from the 'boy' and now squeezed one of his frail wrists hard in her had. It's not child, it's not a child, it's not a child.
"Higher than his." She said through clenched teeth, lips drawn back from the thick fresh scent of blood. "So lets talk."
Iblîs snarled at her, a feral grin on his face as the human was murdered. “That will be you if you don’t put me down! Unhand me, wench!” he snapped, flailing his legs. He knew that he could escape, but Iblîs often played the act of a helpless boy for fun with humans. As the Reaper approached, Iblîs’ skin heated just slightly, a physical reaction to the closeness of his master. His eyes locked on the Time Lord, his lips twitching into a smirk as he asked about her pain tolerance.
Sarah’s grip tightened on him, presumably as she began to feel whatever he did to her. Iblîs let out a sharp cry of pain and squirmed angrily, his cheeks flushing. Higher than his?! Iblîs glared at her, annoyed. His teeth sharpened and his pupils shrunk, hissing out his displeasure to her. His nails sharpened and extended into claws and his shoulders tensed, prepared to fling himself into a fight.
His skin began to heat up. He had always felt warm to the touch and fevered, but his temperature was skyrocketing. His skin went past 110 degrees, leaping to the 150s, into the 200s. He craned his neck, still grinning with feral pleasure at Sarah. “Are you certain you want to keep holding me?” he asked, with a visible wince as his wrist snapped in her grasp. Flames sparked on his skin briefly, a fire sparking on the Weevils’ corpses.
The Reaper smirked in return to the look on Iblis' face but it vanished when she made a threat upon the ifrit's safety. He wasn't sure whether to scoff at her for thinking she could possibly harm him, or bring her to her knees for even daring to suggest such a thing. He sighed softly as Iblis seemed to lose his temper and his claws and teeth extended. “Iblis, be calm. This mere human female is hardly a threat. Shall I dispatch her for you?.”
As Iblis' body became dangerously close to erupting into flames as his inner fire raged, he heard a stirring from behind him. The living breathing embodiment of a Fixed Point was dusting himself. “Aw c'mon, fellas. I just got this shirt back from the cleaners.” he huffed, with a sense of humor, as he straightened the lapels of his dark wool trench coat. “In any case, I'm gonna have to ask you to let the lady go.” he nodded towards the giant of a man in the business suit. Granted, Sarah had hold of the kid, but he could tell one of them was doing something to her. “You alright, Sarah?” he inquired, his voice sincere with concern but still light, trying to stay above the situation.
“Oh, you misjudge me. You see, the woman is of little interest to me. If nothing else, she's simply in the way. It may actually be in my best interest to kill her.”
“Ah yeah.. See, now..” he began with with a click of his tongue, his face scrunching as if in deep thought. “I have a slight problem with that.” he then reached into his coat, alongside his hip to unholster and raise his gun, aiming calmly between the tall blond's eerily pale blue eyes.
A smirk tugged on The Reaper's lips as he motioned his hand back towards the woman and the ifrit. “If she's so.. important to you, you may want to call her off before she gets herself hurt.”
No. She didn't think it was going to be that simple. One twisted scrawny arm. Instead, she found herself fighting the primal urge to let go of the 'boy's scalding body. With a curse, her grip shifted to his clothing, which was only nominally less searing. She knew, however, that she was holding on for her life, and that was excellent motivation to overcome the aching pulses of heat that surged up her arms and made her squirm at the grating pain. She struggled against the impulse to let go even as they plotted her upcoming demise. Her list of options for survival was growing very short.
And then the game changed in a way she'd never anticipated. It changed in a way that twisted her very understanding of reality. Captain Harkness was on his feet. Red lipped, strong jawed, and eyes with a dangerous glitter to them, he started with light quips and ended up defending her in the same casual tone. She was completely gobsmacked. When he asked if she were alright, all she could do was gasp, "Potholders, potholders!"
In last ditch effort, she grabbed on to a fist full of the boy's dark silk hair. She could feel blisters rise almost instantly on the backs of her knuckles where her hand pressed against his scalp. She was plotting quickly though, because the tide had changed. Jack was surging up their beach.
"I don't need to be 'called off', thank you!" she shouted, continuing with her hastily formed plan. She yanked the not-child off his feet by the hair, dropping him down onto the skinless torso of one of the slaughtered creatures. Her boot came firmly down on his chest. A good thick boot. She'd dressed as an inspector today. She fluttered her hot hands, the skin feeling tight and painful. She set a piping angry gaze on the tall one.
"And if this midge fly is so important to you, you'd better do exactly what my friend says."
She couldn't distract herself for a moment with the image of Jack first being corkscrewed by the long blade, then his unfathomable recovery.
Iblîs’ eyes narrowed on Jack as the man raised the gun. His skin heated again as his eyes narrowed on the gun, heating it immensely. The melting point of the gun’s material, steel, was only just over two thousand degrees. He easily brought it to just under that, patiently waiting for the man to either drop it before it melded to his hand or for it to explode from the pressure. His concentration broke as she gasped for potholders. A genuinely disgruntled expression crossed the Djinn’s face.
“I’m not the Sunday roast!” he barked irritably, standing on the tips of his toes to lessen the pressure on his hair, grabbing at her wrist. The ‘defenseless kid’ act was getting harder and harder to play as every atom inside of him was screaming to dismantle her very existence. Had they not been playing the game, Iblîs wouldn’t have been in this situation. He was billions of years old, and his life would not be in the palms of a girl. Much less a human.
For a brief and paralyzing moment his feet were off the ground and he let out a strangled noise of fear. He wasn’t fond of being in the air unless he could control his destination. And even in his raven form, he preferred to fly close to the Reaper. He winced at being slammed down against the weevil, glaring up at her. “Midge fly?” he repeated, looking more than a little resentful. “This midge fly is stronger than it looks.”
With a sharp cracking noise, the ‘boy’ disappeared in a swirl of light green, curling around the Reaper’s body until there was a raven sitting on the Time Lord’s shoulder. He pecked at the Reaper’s ear, still annoyed. Midge fly. “That’s the problem with the British. They have no cultural appreciation.”
Jack immediately dropped the gun he was holding and clutched his hand to his chest and gave a rather disgruntled huff. The pieces quickly clacking into their proper place. He'd been keenly aware that the two of them were the furthest thing from human as anyone could have guessed. But the animation of the dead weevil and the melting of his weapon had him puzzled. The vast assortment of aliens he'd dealt with had nothing on that child like little imp.
In the midst of the confusion, he grabbed hold of Sarah Jane's arm and rather indelicately pulled her away from the 'child' and the freakishly tall man. "Okay, that's enough play time." he huffed as he looked over Sarah's hands and reached into his pockets, a small phial of blue liquid that seemed to shimmer. He poured the contents onto her palms, not bothering with his own. It would heal in record time of it's own accord. The cool viscus liquid stung for only a moment before it began to soothe and repair her palms.
In the mean time, it was taking every ounce of will power not to slit the woman's throat as she had lifted Iblis by his hair. If it had not been for Jack pulling her away from within his grasp, he very well might had attempted to kill her but was more pressed with tending to his companion and loyal jinn. As the raven perched on his shoulder, he reached to trail those long pale fingers to caress though the soft black feathers, his gaze narrowed on the humans. "What more could you expect of them? They're human." he replied with the utmost disgust in his tone.
Jack just smirked as he stuffed his hands into his trenchcoat pockets and looked up at the two, sizing them up now that he seemed to have a better understanding of them. "Well, can't say that's the worst I've been called."
The resurrected Jack Harkness tugged her to him as though to free a scarf trapped in a door. She snapped to him and grabbed at him to steady herself, almost surprised to find substance, thinking somehow he was a ghost come to help best he could. It flashed through her mind that he could be a Time Lord. Who else could die so grusomely then pop back up good as new. But Jack appeared the same, so must be something else. Inhuman, she thought, but it was that moment some of her shock fell away and she realized the very man she contimplated so coldly had gently captured her hands and was now touching them with something wet. She sipped air at the spritely and quick spreading chill, then recoiled as she saw the damage done the man's gun hand when the boy-thing had made him drop his weapon. Burnt. Badly, worse than hers. Perhaps she should have been paying more attention to the sharp conversation between Jack and their unearthly, inhospitable hosts. Frankly she was too distracted by the the sweet coolness that seemed to be slipping into her skin, and the view of Jack's raw burns and split charred skin lighten, flatten, and begin to flow back together.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and broke the spell, dropping her back into the little corner of hell they'd found.
"And what exactly do they call you?" She asked, sizing up the pair anew, now that she wasn't just tap dancing for survival.
The raven’s ruffled feathers soothed down as the Reaper stroked him. The temperature in the room declined as Iblîs’ temper came under control once more. Had he had his way, he would have already simply murdered the woman and kept the man as something to be studied. Certainly it was more effective to have a man who couldn’t die than to risk the Reaper taking out his frustration on Iblîs’ family.
The bird shifted back into the form of the young boy, perched on the Reaper’s broad shoulders. He crossed his legs, looking quite annoyed as he ran his fingers through the Reaper’s short hair. He hadn’t expected much from humans, but could they really know so little about the mythology of their own planet? Sure, most of the information that was about Iblîs was blatantly biased for religious texts, but there were still things about him. He sighed, irritably.
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