The Aftermath

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Chapter 4

In the back left seat of a Black Bentley Arnage Grant sat beside Bianca. They often traveled during the night so her inspections of him were often in the vehicle's dash lights. His near platinum hair appeared red in the dim lighting and it was hard to look past. His high cheek bones were prominent. His eyes were darkly shaded and cavern-like, with icy irises like hidden jewels within. Currently they appeared purple with the dim red light mixing with the blue pigment. His jaw line was sharp and his laryngecular prominence furthered his perfected features. His nose had a slight masculine curve to it just below the bridge and his lips appeared soft. "Now days, we leave so often. Are you sure this is safe?" She asked him in a soft voice. She was almost asleep from the silence which usually surrounded his character when he was in deep thought. He rubbed her upper thigh with a smile and winked at her, his way of saying yes.

Once they reached the wonderfully lit hotel, Grant and Bianca moved from the car. He got their suitcase and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from the front zipper to hide his genetically modified genotype. He then lengthened the handle so that a man dressed in a tuxedo and white gloves could roll it to their room. A valet offered to park their car, but their driver insisted.

The suite seemed a bit excessive, equipped with both a kitchen and a living room, but it felt wonderful. Bianca waited until after the door was shut to run through the living room and dive onto the bed. Her spirit was light on this night, enjoying the finer things in life.

He followed after her with a smile, pulled the glasses from his face, and tossed them on a black leather recliner next to the bed. Feeling his eyes upon her, she turned with red cheeks embarrassed at her outburst. He didn't look as amused as she was. "Are we here on our own accord or are you on business?" she asked softly, so quietly as not to hurt his ears.

He laughed gently and she knew it meant business. He then came to the foot of the bed and tugged on her hand to make her follow him to the bathroom. Living a shut in life affected her deeply and she was happy to leave the Cain grounds even if it was on the account of business. She met him in front of the counter with her bag of makeup which he had gotten from the suitcase. He set it on the sink and it was crazy how most of it was for him. First he put in brown contacts then Bianca helped him put a thick pale concealer around his eyes to cover up the blackness. They stood looking at themselves in the mirror. While he had gotten rid of the blackness around his eyes, she had put mascara and eye liner around her own. She then walked back into their room and changed into a sparkly champagne colored dress. To finish, she pulled the hair tie out of her long black hair and put on a matching pair of heals.

The dining area was enormous. All the walls were made of glass, some of which had been slid open. This allowed the tables and guest to pour out onto the marble lounge area beneath the starry night. Music was playing on the stage beneath a chandelier. Its light reflected off Bianca's dress. Grant's hand was firm against her waist. As he looked around with his perfect sight, Bianca peered at him. His ears were small, shaped perfectly with attached earlobes. Within them were barely noticeable, skin colored ear plugs, which he had put in before they left.

"Grant," She whispered quietly among all the music, laugher, and conversation. She had spoke so softly that not even she had heard her own voice and wondered if she had really said anything at all.

He turned his attention towards her, rubbing her side, feeling the sequence on her champagne colored, thigh-high dress with his finger tips.

"I'm going to the ladies room." Bianca slipped away from him, she could feel his eyes upon her. Once she was out of his sight within the ladies room she stood in front of the mirror and peered at herself. Perhaps she had worn a bit too much makeup or her flat ironed hair lay too perfectly, but she did feel pretty. Her lips were red and she smelt of a feminine fragrance. The more she pondered about this momentary sense of confidence, the more she realized it wasn't the illusions at all.

It was her natural entity beneath it all to which she had the option of applying illusion, a profound freedom of exterior self improvement, a display of humanly expression and womanly exertion. She fake smiled her straight white teeth, a product of simple alignment which was nothing unique, yet made a lasting impression. She then swept a strand of her long black hair behind her ear. Yes, she was natural, flawed, yet human!

As for Grant, everything about him was artificial. Everything from his eyes, to height both vertically and horizontally, his jaw, his nose. He was even ribbed in more ways than one. Did it conflict him to know just how fake he was? Did he see himself as a product, a science experiment? Furthermore, she wondered about his character, his personality, his soul, was that all manufactured as well? She stopped her thoughts at once on that note, feeling a stinging sensation in her watering eyes. She had to believe that beneath his exterior, there was truth, there was a genuine entity which could not be duplicated.

Once she was back in the lobby, a firm hand found its place against her hip. Had it been a stranger, the individual wouldn't have gotten past the tips. He then dragged her into the crowd of dancing people, a swaying mass of life. The music was classical slow and he held her close against his chest.

As they looked into each other's eyes with matching brown irises, she felt slightly unable to breathe in his overwhelming presence. She rested her head against his chest to avoid his stare. He was simply too much. His breath was warm against her neck. He proceeded to clamp his teeth against her ear lobe, caressing her skin with his tongue.

Suddenly his smile faded and his attention became elsewhere. "What?" She asked, glancing behind her where his eyes fell. A horseshoe shaped black table sat three men and women sharing champagne with laugher. Grant pulled her chin back to face him. The roughness in which he had tugged brought tears to her eyes.

"Trent," A voice sounded behind Bianca. A man now appeared through the crowd until he was at arm's length to shake his hand. "Won't you come and sit with us?"

Bianca kept her watery eyes on Grant's face which stared straight forward. She saw him bite his lip and saw the moment's hesitation. He wanted her to see this, which meant trouble. Somehow it always found them. They moved over the dance floor to the table where they sat crammed together. Bianca was between Grant and the older gentleman who had come to retrieve them. She had her left leg crossed over her right with her left foot comfortably rested on Grant's shiny black shoe. His arm was wrapped around her with his hand on her shoulder; the other was on her upper thigh. The sleeves of his black button-up had been rolled up to his elbows now.

Introductions transpired then transpired. The older gentleman was the owner of the hotel's younger brother. The three younger men and women were friends of his. "Trent, we really do appreciate your business." Andrew smiled. He had grey hair and wore a silver suit. At this statement Grant smirked. "What is your occupation?"

Grant looked at Bianca and she spoke for him, "He's a retired physician, ever since he became mute."

The blonde woman across the table began tapping on the table.

"I'm sorry to hear that, may I ask what happened?" one of the younger men inquired.

"Vocal cord paresis," Bianca replied. None of what she was saying was far from the truth, but she couldn't explain it in its entirety. Grant had spoke with his brother his whole life primarily using their undetectable tones rather than audible sound. It had stunted the development of his vocal cords and it was alarming to think that even their means for speaking and hearing had been genetically altered.

"Has he considered surgery or speech zerapy?" asked the blonde in a heavy German accent.

"Yes," she lied. In honesty, Grant didn't find many others worth communicating with, except for his own kind, and on rare occasions with her. Perhaps he was full of himself, proud of his DNA? Even as they spoke, his attention was elsewhere.

A waiter then came and began to pour each of them some Champagne. Grant's smile had faded at once after he had taken his first drink. Bianca had also sipped from the glass.

The waiter smiled at her and walked away.

"Well men, how about a smoke?" Another offered, pulling a pack of cigars from his black vest pocket. All of the men rose to their feet. It had been so sudden and Bianca didn't look happy to be ditched. Grant leaned down to whisper in her ear a moment, playing it off as a kiss on the cheek. His voice was a soft and hoarse, fading in and out, "You've been drugged. An ounce in the mini bar…"

She nodded her head up and down, wondering when he had found the time to leave her such a thing. "Go smoke, they're leaving you." He turned and began to follow after them. Bianca felt the eyes of the three women upon her now.

"Look at zem. Zey act like Zey're going to discuss ze fate of ze vorld." the blonde said as she tilted her head back with laugher.

"Who knows what they would do without us," Another raised her glass and the three women enjoyed their champagne as they scrutinized Bianca.

"So, vat iz he like?" the blonde asked.

Bianca thought for a long moment, feeling as if words could not fully describe him. "Quiet, yet compelling."

"I meant in bed," the blonde broke into laugher again.

Bianca's face reddened. She knew he was still in ear's shot. Without any further words she stood from the table and decided it was best to go back to their room.

"Are you not feeling vell?" the blonde questioned after her.

"No," Bianca admitted. Stomach pains were starting to kick in.

Grant stood with the cigar in his hand. He felt as if he was going to throw up. His genetically modified body was rejecting the champagne from earlier. His glass had been laced with chemicals including the cigar he was currently smoking. If not for his super natural body, he would be dead. Luckily his kidneys and blood were extremely strong filters in their own right.

The men stood before him, looking at him incredulously. He finished his cigar with a shrug. The thick smoke billowed from his mouth and nostrils like spider silk into the air. The lighting from the hotel threw smoke shadows across his face. He then threw the foot of the cigar on the ground, and stepped on it. A smile began to creep across his face as if to rub salt on the wound.

"Shoot him! He's the antichrist!" one of them yelled. The men pulled pistols from their pockets and opened fire upon him. After they had emptied their magazines, they stood in shock that the man was still standing. Horror quickly followed, as the bullets expelled through the holes which they had entered and fell to the ground in a metallic sounding hail storm. With the entry wounds still smoking, Grant's shoulders bobbed with laugher as he looked down at the ground. The bullets rolled away from him over the concrete and his flesh began to heal back together.

Back in the hotel room, Bianca sat with the towel around her body. Her hair was wet down her back and she starred at her the syringe full of blood which Grant had left her in the mini bar. After using even just a small amount, a tingling sensation filled her body and she felt light headed. It was like a momentary high and it made her want more, especially after seeing the injection sight heal instantly. As if her body had been filled with contrast, she felt a warm sensation flood over her. A single drop was as potent a drug as meth and pleasurable as ecstasy. Her chest rose and fell and she collapsed back on the bed. The feelings of mania began to set in and she had been cured of her poisoning.

Grant walked carelessly through the hotel's hallways until he finally came across the room number the blonde had tapped against the table in Morse code. After killing the woman's partner, he had swiped the man's key from his jacket. He then pushed it into the door and carefully opened it. Grant stood still with his mouth shut as the woman rose to her feet in the dim light. She wore extremely tall black heals and red lingerie. He lightly swung the door shut behind his self and stepped closer to her.

"I knew zere was somesing special about you." she smiled. Her eyes were heavy with black makeup. "Please tell me, you did kill zem." She placed a hand on her hip with her red smile still in tack. Her blonde curly hair rested on her shoulders. He was quiet, keeping his eyes forward. "Oh? A mystery man?" she laughed lightly at his lack of response, inspecting his ripped, holey black shirt. Her heals clicked against the floor. Although she had extremely tall heals on, his six foot six stature was still taller than her petite frame. Her hips swung gently controlled from side to side. When she reached him she felt for his belt buckle. Her eyes remained intent on his, but he refused to look at her, looking beyond her instead.

With his pants loosened, she unbuttoned tattered shirt and kissed his chest. In the transition from her feet to her knees, the sound of a silenced pistol rang out. The woman fell to the floor, dead, and Bianca lowered the gun to her side.

A smile crept across his face and he followed her out. He buttoned his shirt, fixed his tie and collar, as well as his pants as they walked. Once they made it back to their room, they gathered their things, which had been left packed. "Did you message him to meet us in the ally?" Bianca asked. Grant nodded once. With haste, they made a dash for the fire exit. It was a long spiral staircase opposite the elevator shaft. Once they made it to the ally, the car rippled into sight. It had been cloaked, parked right before them. Grant threw their things in the back of the vehicle and got in beside Bianca.

Bianca sat beside him in the back seat, skimming through her camera all the evidence she had collected. "The owner of the hotel, Jim, he's a drug lord. Looks like you pissed him off selling in his turf."

Grant shrugged his shoulders.

"And, the woman he was with apparently goes by the name, Ms. Hearse. She's working for an independent group lead by a man named Price Valencia." Although it was dark in the car, Grant spoke with her using sign language. He brought his fists together at the knuckles and made a circular motion.

"What makes you think they are working together?" Bianca asked. "She wanted the men she was working with dead."

He drew his hand into a fist with his pinky and thumb extended, me too, he signed with a smile. Bianca leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

A/N: Thank you for reading this far. ! I'd very much appreciate some feedback or reviews to help with the direction of this story! I really do enjoy writing it and I hope you like it as well!

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