Friday, March 21, 2014

Portland In Black 17

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him. 

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Noir tried not to blink.  Again, he didn't quite think of anything to say.  So he said nothing at all.
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Black Anna seemed to take this all in stride. She kicked her legs, humming to the music being played by some her macabre musicians.  "Its alright, I didn't expect an answer right away.  I know I'm..."

She waved a hand in the air.  She made a circular motion.

"...someone new for you.  But still, I can show you want it'll be like here with me."

"...Right."  Noir closed his eyes.  A part of him started to think.  Before he knew it, Noir felt the words coming out of his mouth.  Thinking aloud, he started to wince as he realized what he was doing.  "You sent those two to talk to Ellie.  You made sure I'd find her body wouldn't you?  What did Ellie do to deserve what you did to her?"

Music ceased.  Noir opened his eyes.  Apparently members of Anna's court had supernatural hearing to go with everything else monstrous they had going on.  Black hungry eyes stared at him.  Unblinking.

Black Anna tilted her head to one side.  She smirked.  "Oh.  Didn't you know a wolf gobbled her up?"

Undead heads bobbed up and down.  Some snickered.  Noir's necrokinetic senses felt a wave of cruel humor wash over the assembled body.  It confused him.  "I don't... How?  Why?"

Black Anna shrugged.  "You broke one of my toys.  That was simple enough of a reason.  But I like you.  I think I can help you from yourself, silly boy."

"Broke your toys...?"  Noir paused.  Then it came to him.  "The orphanage..."

Oh.  Noir didn't like the thought of that.  Black Anna knew about him.  Not in a general sense, she knew what he'd done the last time he'd been in Portland.

Noir had been bumming throughout Oregon.  During the last Christmas he'd found himself in Portland.  And a particular bizarre triplet of spirits had decided to drag the necromancer into the next of a poltergeist-hive.  "You knew about that... suffering thing?"

"Silly boy."  Black Anna wangled a finger.  "It wasn't a thing.  You weren't the only person to grow up able to see ghosts, you know."

"I had to help them.  They were in pain-"

"And they belonged to me."  Anna pointed a finger at her chest.  "Can you bring them back?"

"I had to help them."  Noir felt goosebumps.  "You... What are you?"

"Help."  Black Anna shook her head.  "Still you don't get it!  You think I'm some misshapen spell or creation of someone before you.  Eliza, did a necromancer make me?"

The old woman answered her.  She kept groveling.  Noir could see tears coming down Eliza's withered, aged face.  "I made you.  I'm sorry.  I'm so very sorry, Anna."

Black Anna tilted her head another way.  "It was a dark and stormy night when I died, death walker.  You want to learn about that?"

Noir shook his head.  "You... you-"

"You broke my toy."  Anna shrugged.  "So I'm going to make a new one.  Feelings stain, necromancer.  You know that.  That's how you think of ghosts and things.  Stains and marks on the world, right?  What sort of things wake up after the worst has happened to them?"

Noir felt nausea wash over him.  "Please... I didn't mean..."

Black Anna clapped her hands.  The jazz music started up again.  She smirked at him.

"I'm not going to kill you, Noir Badarte.  I'm going to watch you kill yourself."  Black Anna walked to his cot and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  It felt like frost on his face.  "Besides, I think you look cute confused and scared like that."

Oh.  Great.  Noir thought to himself.  Now would be a great time for Jesha.

But given his luck so far, Noir doubted it.  He wondered if Jesha even was alive anymore.  Nothing indicated that.  He felt a dark feeling cast over him.  What would he be like a few days like this?  A few weeks?

He looked over at Eliza.  Broken.  At the bottom of a filthy cage.  So very old.  A person turned into more of a thing.

Noir wondered which would be better; the broken old woman or the mad monster in the shape of a girl?