B and E

Cordova's Wonderland 
Ash liked to think he had a good disposition. He did good things. Picked up litter, didn't cut in line, and generally didn't trouble anyone. The dealings with vampires was along the same line. But breaking into an amusement park, not so much. He wasn't here to steal anything though. not even the overprized toys. Although he did consider it for a hot minute when he saw the seal plushie in one of the dark shop windows. It was really cute.

The reason he had broken into an amusement park at the late hour of ten pm? Besides the obvious part of crowds being the worst invention ever, was because odd things were happening to Ash. Odd in that when he touched certain things he would get a blast of crowed images, jumbled and confused. It seemed to happen with things that a lot of people touched, like coins, or door handles. So what else did people touch a lot, why amusement rides of course! Or so his mind had thought in a half sleep deprived state about an hour earlier.

The break in was not very well planned, and only after climbing a fence and falling a little hard onto his back in the wet mud did he actually get inside. So here he was walking the empty streets with the darks shops and games on either side, covered in mud. What a start to the night.

She had her peace. She said her goodbyes. Catharsis and closure were powerful things and Wonderland had little left on her. The thing that broke her body still occupied a special place in her nightmares, but Morgan thought less and less about the park. The all too familiar dread which verged on panic in those early days following her attack, was now just a ball of unease fidgeting in the pit of her stomach.

Tonight offered Morgan nothing special until the Wonderland alert squawked from the radio. The ball of unease became denser and sat heavier in her stomach, harder to ignore. Déjà vu hit hard. Was it back? Did it play on the Ferris wheel even now? Oi. Park's closed, you know. Her throat hitched, and she swallowed back the rising anxiety.

It would have been easy to keep driving and let someone else take the call, pick up the next domestic or B&E. But what if the next call for assistance came from Wonderland—a 10-999? Some sick rehashing of last August? Morgan frowned, white-knuckling the steering wheel. She wouldn't be able to live with herself. Cursing, she radioed in her attendance and headed her SUV for Ravenswood bridge.

Here he was in the middle of the park, covered in mud, with no idea what to do. These was not well thought out at all. The whole idea felt sort of stupid now that he was standing there. He had just broken into an amusement park which was definetly a bad thing. He didn't hear any security though so maybe, maybe it would be find. If he could just figure out some idea of what to touch and then make his way back out then things would be dandy. So the question was, what did he want to touch? Or even better what could he touch with out being revolted? Ferris wheel was out, lord only knew what people got up to in those. Rollercoasters could be okay except he had seen his fair share of people vomiting on them to want to put his hand on any part of the ride. So that left the child rides and some of the tamer adult ones.

Wet and cold he trudged along the dark streets stopping at maps to get a sense of direction. After ten truly awful minutes of wondering he found it. The carousel. It wasn't anything super special, just horses and swan boats sitting silently. He hoped over the barrier and stumbled up onto the stage. There was a back horse close by with a nose rubbed rough by many children's hands. This should work.

The SUV rolled up to the park entrance about half an hour later; no lights or sirens accompanied her approach. Park security met her at the gate, having raised the alarm. CCTV caught sight of the intruder towards the carousel. Plan was to circle and close in there, hopefully leading to a quick and pain-free arrest. Her stomach squirmed.

Her nerves were up, but she kept it in check, breathing long and deep, as they fanned through a twilight Wonderland. Beams of light played off the shuttered rides and kiosks. Games of chance and skill silent in the chill air. Morgan wore a plate carrier rig beneath her open jacket. It hadn't prevented the bite, but perhaps it lessened her injuries. And the weight and heft provided comfort, made her feel a little sturdier against the dark.

To help fend against the dark she carried a compact flashlight that cast a brilliant white beam across the wet concrete. Her other hand held firm beneath her jacket, past the Glock on her hip, and clasped tightly about the grip of the revolver holstered there. She wouldn't be caught unawares again. Not this time.

He was entirely unaware of his eyes changing from their blue-greenish hue to something more vibrant, more gold. All he was focused on was reaching out to touch the horse's nose.

The images were rapid almost a blur. Laughter pounded in his head at a level so intense he stumbled back. Flashes of light, the horse moving up and down, he could even feel the bar in his hands smoothed metal.

This all came to a rather abrupt end as his legs hit the barrier and he toppled backwards landing with and ufff onto the ground more mud squelching around him. He was going to have to shower when he got home. The fall had done a job of knocking the wind out of him, coupled with the last dwindles of images he wasn't keen to get up.

The shakes started small slowly in his fingers before taking over his arms. The foregin heart in his chest gave a lurch and fast exhilirated thumps.

Oh god this was a mistake.

Maybe it had been the exercise, maybe it was his body finally rejecting the heart. Either way he was completely sure he was dying.

Something wet was leaking from his nose as well but he didn't pay it anymind just gave a little sniffle.

He didn't want to die. At least not here in the mud staring up at the black sky. Fuck he should have taken that seal plush at least then he could die with something.

Silently stalking towards the merry-go-round, Morgan knew what to expect. Her mind's eye conjured another slavering beast, something emerging from between the lacquered horses, intent on finishing the job. The ending would be different this time, of that she was assured. She assumed the girl of silver and fire's mantle. Though Cris would have probably said this was all fucking stupid.

But Morgan wasn't prepared to find a kid lying in the mud alongside the carrousel. The light of her flashlight cut across his prone form before jerking back. She stopped, drew a sharp breath as her stomach tightened. The revolver clicked free of the holster and Morgan drew on the kid. Dead? Tensions rose, and she crept forward, eyes wide.

She radioed the situation back to control; requesting medical support and backup. Acknowledgement crackling back, Morgan surveyed the surrounding darkness, interspersed with shafts of light, and took another deliberate step forward. Morgan didn't get too close, not yet, not without knowing. It felt like a lure.

"Police! You on the floor. Show me your hands!" If she just ordered a corpse to show hands, she'd worry about what killed him next. But for now she'd assume the kid lying in the mud and staring at the stars could hear her.

The light flashed into his face and the words that followed were a cherry on top to the fact that tonight had been a stupid idea. Police. Well he supposed at least this meant he would probably see medical attention before he died. He was pretty sure he was dying. With his heart all but pounding out of his chest, and his fingers felt numb, his throat was constricted. It was hard to breath. But considering he didn't want to get shot he attempted to raise his very shakey hands up.

"I think Im having a heart attack."

He croaked out. There was a tension in his stomach and the burning of bile rising up his throat. Great he was going to throw up in front of the cop as well. Would they shoot him if he rolled over? Did it matter actually considering he was already dying? Wouldn't a bullet be faster? There wasn't much time to think and in the end he just turned his head to vomit onto the ground. Gross.

Hands empty, and shaky, palsied by the look of him. Morgan winced and narrowed her eyes. This felt less like a lure and more like a pitiful plea for help. Revolver remained trained with the spotlight cast from her other hand. Morgan took a tentative handful of steps forward. A heart attack? Please, he hardly looked old enough.

Then he turned his head, that alone felt like an effort, and puked. Never had she seen someone so young, claim to have a heart attack, and then throw up. Concerned skepticism worked into her as she reached for the radio and called in the development. Kid was high, or drunk, or both more than likely. Maybe an OD? She sent that up the chain too. A good hard stomach pump would set him straight. Morgan's throat tightened, remembering her first pump.

She hesitated a moment, then holstered the revolver, not about to watch a kid die. Approaching around the vomit, she crouched at his side, and shone the light in his eyes, watching for the pupillary response. "Ambulance is on its way. What's your name, hun?" A hand went to his neck to feel at his pulse.

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