Vivienne

Wendy bounced her way up the stairs and to the little stage where she saw Denise sitting on her stool.  Taking the moment to bow, Wendy smiled. “Good Afternoon, Loved One.”  Wendy saw Denise pat the chair beside her and headed over. “Where’s Brian?”  The red-head inquired.

“Have a seat, Wendy.”  The Darla calmly stated and pressed a button on her Iphone, starting a deep tuned song. “Don’t worry about Brian.”

“...I promised him that…”  Wendy started to say and was interrupted by The Darla.

“...I said don’t worry about Brian.”  The Darla once more mentioned and turned her dark set eyes to face her defiant infiltrator.  The Darla nodded to her three captains and they spread out around the chair Wendy occupied.  The Darla waited until the melancholy song, Tomorrow Wendy by Concrete Blonde completed its first set of lyrics.

“It is complete now
two ends of time are neatly tied,
A one way street,
She's walking to the end of the line,

“You have to answer for what you’ve done, Wendy.”  The Darla spoke deeply and authoritatively.

The music and lyrics echoed in Wendy’s ears and she immediately started shaking. “You…you s-said..I was f-forgiven…”  Wendy begged as tears scrolled down her cheeks. “Lo-Loved…One..”

The Darla nodded slowly and patted Wendy’s hand, then looked to Captain Mattson. “Please make the girl a Manhattan.  I think she needs a drink.” The Darla watched as the gruff man walked over to the cart and reached under, pulling out a martini glass, bourbon and a dark wine. “A dark red-brown drink for my favorite red-head.”  Entwining her fingers, The Darla hummed and tilted her head to the side to study Wendy’s profile.  She held up her fingers in a little box shape. “You are a work of art…in progress, Wendy.”

Watching as Raollet finished making the drink, Wendy tried to hold steady as he placed the martini glass in her hand.  Wendy didn’t bother to sip the potent drink and took the rich liquors down in one swallow.  “I…I did..what you told me to do, Loved, One.”  Wendy held up the glass to Raolett.

The Darla stood up and pulled her stool to the center of the three easels she’d set up earlier, and picked up a thick piece of charcoal. “Oh, my dear…” The Darla raised her hand to the first canvas. -scribble..scribble…swipe…smear…- “...I have forgiven you.”  The Darla peeked at Wendy between her first and second easel and wiggled her black fingers. “If you recall, I also said do not expect mercy again.” The Darla resumed her work. -scratch…scribble…-  The Darla blew lightly on the charcoal, sending a small black cloud of dust into the air where it seemed to hang ominously.

Wendy quickly turned and looked at the commando leader, Captain Angelie Kino. “...L-Le-give me a chance, Kino.  W-we always got along.”  Wendy begged the Greek woman.

Captain Kino shook her head and walked over to a wall and pulled five leather straps from where they hung on the wall. “No.  I can’t use you Wendy.”  She headed back in Wendy’s direction, the buckles clankling lightly. “This isn’t my call.”

-scratch…blow…smear…scribble-  The Darla whistled lightly and kept working with the charcoal for a few more strokes and once again looked at the red-head. “I am not going to kill you, Wendy.”  She pointed to her phone where the song had been looping its play. “The song isn’t about killing someone.”  The Darla spun the first easel around, displaying its contents to Wendy. “It is talking about a girl named Wendy that had AIDS.”  The Darla winked. “It’s about the disease killing her, dear.”  The Darla looked at Wendy and then back to the picture. “How do you like it?  I think I captured you just as you are now.”  The Darla’s tone darkened and her hazel eyes started glowing light around the edges of her sunken sockets. “Diseased.”  The Darla lifted her coal coated index finger. -Scrawl…swipe.- “There we go.”  The Darla smiled. “This one is called, Before.”

Wendy’s heart pounded in her chest wildly and she jumped from the chair and tried to run, knocking over the black image of herself that had just been completed.  Captain Kino moved with the same pace that Wendy did and managed to grab a handful of the reporter's bright red locks and yanked.  Wendy lost her footing and fell backwards landing on the wooden floor with a heavy thud. A small plume of dirt scattered in the air and mixed with the settling black dust of the charcoal. “Nooooo….nooo….please….”  Wendy screamed as she was dragged and unceremoniously slammed back into the heavy chair.  Wendy felt her shoulders pinned against the back of the cherry wood and saw that the hands holding her firm belonged to Captain Mattson. “I…am no..not…diseased…please…I’ll do anything.”

The Darla picked up ‘Before’ and picked up the overturned easel. “Dusty, come here boy!”  She called for her hefty yellow short furred dog.  Hearing a quick ‘arf’ in acknowledgement The Darla turned as the bright eyed dog darted up the stairs and nuzzled the artist by her leg. “Good booooy…”  Patting Dusty on the head The Darla calmly spoke to her dog. “Dusty, Wendy is trying to hurt herself.  We don’t want that, do we boy?”  The dog lightly barked and shook his head, making his ears flop. “Lay down right there and make sure she doesn’t try to run again.  Can my big boy do that?”  She knelt down and scrubbed Dusty’s ears tenderly.  Dusty spun in a circle once and licked his owner on the cheek before laying down in front of Wendy, glaring at her. 

Wendy moved her foot and got a growl from the dog staring at her in response. “Lo-Lo…”  Wendy stopped talking as she felt one of her hands pressed to the arm of the chair.  -Clink…clatter..-  Wendy tried to pull her arm free as she felt the first leather strap get pulled tightly around her forearm. 

The Darla replaced her first canvas where it had been for Wendy to see and resumed her sitting on her stool. “I think ink will capture you very nicely, Wendy.”  The Darla commented as she listened to the sound of leather and metal clamping down on Wendy’s opposite arm. “Wendy, dear.  You have a sickness.” The Darla waved her hand and pulled a light green image of Wendy crawling on the floor teasing Nick Gemelli with the epipen. “The past is at my fingertips, Wendy.  You could have gotten the information from the officer without killing him.”  She produced a picture of Gemelli’s notebook. “See, Dear?  He’d cleared you as a suspect.”  -Dip…dip..clink..clink…-  The Darla started scrawling on the second canvas. 

Wendy started screaming and flung her legs in the vain attempt to stop what was happening.  Dusty jumped from his guarded position and snapped at Wendy’s ankles a couple times and curled his maw up growling.  Darting her brown eyes at the dog, Wendy gave up and started crying with heavy sobs that wracked her chest. “I-I…did…no…choice…”  Wendy tried to breathe and talk at the same time.  “Plea…”  Wendy pleaded once more, saliva running over her chin.  -clink…tink…-  Wendy felt her ankle become glued to the foot of the chair with the third buckle.

-Dip..dip..- The Darla sensed a cold chill emanating from the chair and watched as a thick black cloud started to form around Wendy.  Putting her quill into the red ink well she’d been using, The Darla waved her green lit hand in a small arc and resumed her artwork. “What do you think of ‘Before’?  I think the way I detailed your profile with the shades of black by your eyes, then lightened it by your lovely curly hair, does you justice.”  The Darla pointed the red tipped quill at Wendy. “The haze around your visage is showing the disease that has gripped you.” -Dot…dot…scribble…- The Darla worked diligently on her second piece as the sound of the fourth buckle latched on to Wendy’s leg. “I was right, Wendy.  Ink is the way to go for this piece. I think I will name this one ‘During’.”  The Darla holds up her finger and winks to her captive. “You can only see it after I am done.”

“Loved One.” Captain Addison politely walked over to The Darla. “Would you allow me to buckle the last strap?”

“Are you sure you want to do that, Heather?”  The Darla replied softly and pointed to her canvas. “I only asked you here for what is coming next, my dear.”

“I loved Derek.”  Captain Addison’s eyes welled up with tears. “She caused…”  She cleared her throat, “..Infiltrator Hamilton to get killed.”

The Darla set her quill back on the small cart and walked over to give Heather a warm hug. “I know you did.”  The Darla pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief with the letters D.C. on it and dabbed at her captain’s eyes. “We are creating art through love, Heather.”  The Darla patted Heather’s hand. “I think you are delving into vengeance right now.  Captain Mattson and Captain Kino are not taking pleasure in doing this to Wendy.”  When a slight chuckle and cough came from the other side of the room, The Darla glared over to her other captains. “Secure the last one Captain Mattson, then you two head downstairs.  Captain Addison will be with me.”

Wendy whimpered lightly as the final strap was secured to her forehead and buckled so tightly that she felt the skin around it slightly tear. “Whatever I am doing, I’ll stop.  Please…I brought you Brian..I..”  Wendy watched as Captain Mattson and Captain Kino walked downstairs.  Blood slowly drained the sides of her eyes and another wave of fear coursed through the red-head making her wiggle pointlessly in the chair.

“Dusty.”  The Darla called to her large best friend, who stood up and nuzzled her thigh. “Good boy.” She smiled lovingly at the dog, “Go make sure that Raollet is safe and sound with Angelie.  Wendy is safe now.”  Panting with delight, Dusty bolted downstairs and started barking playfully with the other two captains. “See, Wendy?  Love.” The Darla stopped speaking and dipped her quill into a couple inks and made a light shade of pink. “Sometimes tough love is the best love we can offer.”  She watched as Captain Addison walked behind Wendy and gathered a small bag and put it on another small paint cart. “I am nearly done with this piece of art as well, Wendy.  I think you will love it.”  The Darla winked and cleaned off the quill and combined a couple more inks to create brown. “This will be a little unusual, this piece is more of a cutaway.  Almost biological.”  The Darla looked at Heather, “Come over and see what you think Captain Addison.  I am going for art, not a textbook.”