..What If.. -- Club Alien

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What if I'm a snowstorm burning?

What if I'm a world unturning?

What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow

Much too deep?

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The ginger had been preparing for attack, waiting only for word from the blonde ringleader. At the newcomer's words, a ripple of doubt seemed to flow through through the trio however. It started with the youngest and ended with the blonde, whose steely eyes narrowed. Long, jagged scratches ran over his lids and down his cheeks, making him look as if he were weeping bloody tears. "You're a liar.." The blonde growled, though the blade he was pressing to Kat's neck faltered a bit. He didn't want to believe the pretty boy, but with technology being as ever changing as it was, what if? The newest car he'd ever driven had been a 90's marquee. They were always adding new bells and whistles to cars. Like OnStar and shit like that...wasn't it entirely possible they made assistance portable?

"What if he's not, bro?" The youngest asked, looking visibly shaken. "Just let the bitch go and let's get out of here." The ginger agreed. The blonde shot a glare through bloody, watery eyes at the two idiots he chummed with. If there was one thing he hated, it was when someone stood in his way. And this pretty boy was definitely in his way! He tightened his hold on the whore's hair, dragging her a step back with him. Other than the rapid sound of her breath, she didn't make a sound...which pissed him off even further. He was willing to bet she enjoyed the manhandling. "Here's what's going to happen, pretty boy. Me and my guys, we're gonna take our business elsewhere. You're gonna step aside, or I'm gonna gut her like a pig right here where she stands. You dig?" The ginger and the younger male exchanges worried looks, and for a moment it looked as if they might go against that idea. Then their stupidity took over, and they shot narrowed looks at Paige.

The captive Kat had ceased all struggling--a blade held to your throat tends to do that. Further, she had fallen oddly quiet since the obscured man had spoken. Just how high was she, anyway? She could have sworn up and down she knew the man that voice belonged to. Knew him very well, once. In another life. But that couldn't quite be possible, now could it? He had even destined for bigger and better things than the likes of her. Like hell he'd be in this dirty, abandoned city. Had she accidentally taken a hallucinogen? It was possible. She had gotten rather careless in the past few months. That had to be it. Hell, was he imagining the whole thing?

She was sprung back into the present as the blonde jerked her backward. She bit her bottom lip to stay the answering cry that wanted to bubble from her throat, refusing to scream. The movement caused something sparkly to catch her eye, and she glanced down to where the reflection was coming from. Her purse! The lights from the street had caught on its buckle. In the scuffle, she had dropped it...and her other bag, though that was yet unseen. No matter. Her purse was the important thing. Inside rested a small ruger, and if only she could figure out a way to reach it, maybe this whole mess could end.

She finally broke her resolve and uttered a whimper, her dark chocolate gaze desperately locking on the obscure man who sounded so much like Paige. She then let it drop to the bag, then back to him. If she could just convey that silent message..It was a long shot, but it might be her only one.

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What if I'm the kindest demon?

Something you might not believe in

What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen

To sleep?

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