WHO: Betsy Braddock NPCs: Alison Double, Slaymaster (though in a dream) WHAT: Betsy has a vision of Slaymaster. WHEN: August 1, Extremely early morning. WHERE: Betsy's bedroom.
Sometimes Betsy felt like she had more bad dreams than good ones. The past couple of nights had just been kind of strange though. So when she laid her head on her pillow, she wanted nothing more than a good night’s sleep. Mostly to get the stink of magic off of her. There was a troll that popped up in Ireland. Good times. Thankfully, the costume kept fatigue at bay, but the moment she took it off the crappy nights’ sleep caught up to her, and she was out before her head hit the pillow.
“Where’s Elisabeth Braddock?” It was said by a man that Betsy didn’t recognize. He had long dark hair and a long dark groomed beard to match. He had on a suit, and when the woman in front of him didn’t answer soon enough he put his fist through the hallway wall beside him in anger. That was when Betsy noticed that the flat she was standing in was trashed. The couch was flipped over, coffee table smashed, lamps shattered across the walls. In the middle of it stood all stood a woman with shoulder length auburn hair. She was standing defiantly as if the fact that this man destroyed all her belongs hadn’t upset her in the least.
Alison Double. It had been ages since Betsy had seen her, but she had been one of her better friends in S.T.R.I.K.E.S. Psi-division. “Fuck you, wanker.” Yes, that was her.
He marched up menacingly, grabbing a hold of her upper arm. From the look on her face, Betsy could tell it hurt... a lot. And with an alarming speed he soon had her pinned against the wall holding his hand to her throat. Alison’s hands came up in vain to pull his off, as she kicked. “I’m asking one more time, which is more than any of your teammates have gotten tonight.” He started face close to hers. “Where is she?”
Alison shivered, gleaning the thoughts off of the man’s head and gathering than he meant business, and she looked a little desperate. “You killed them.” She gasped out, breathing unsteady, looking like she might be a little sick. She took as deep of a breath as she could with the man’s hand on her throat tightening. She kicked a little harder, but he was far larger and more imposing than her 5’4” frame. “No one knows.” She said as calmly as she could manage.
“No!” He roared loosing her temper. “She’s supposed to be here now.”
Alison at that moment knew from his thoughts that she was going to die, and that there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t let her life flash before her eyes. “Yeah, well I don’t know what to bloody tell you then. Go cry about it.” She spat out.
“No!” Betsy let out hands instantly going to her mouth when she heard the sickening crack of a breaking neck and her friend slummed lifelessly to floor.
Betsy shot up in bed, panting and feeling sick covered with sweat. She fought with the blankets as tears streamed out of her eyes. Yelling in frustration when she was finally free. That was not a nightmare. She’d had a dream like this before. Twice in fact. The first she’d been a teenager, and she’d ignored it as a nightmare. The second time, she’d dreamt of her brother Jamie’s racecar accident. The one that nearly killed him. That time only for it to come true. That was not happening again. Not on her fucking life. She left out a slight sob as she snatched up her phone, thumbing through the contact list as quickly as possible.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up.” She chanting to herself, eyes closed, willing the other woman to pick up her phone as she marched to her closet, pulling out her costume.
“Hello.” The voice on the other end said sounding groggy and annoyed.
“Alison!” Betsy called out into her phone. “Get out of your flat now.” She said firmly, pulling down her pajama bottoms.
“Betsy? Is that you? What the hell? It’s one in the morning!”
“Please, you have to trust me. Get out of your sodding flat this minute. Go to HQ, go to your mum’s, go anywhere but where you are right now.” Alison was used to Betsy’s I’m serious voice, and Betsy could hear her moving on the other end of the phone. “So help my God, Alison, if it’s not right now, I will come over there and rip you out of your flat.”
“I’ll go to my brother’s, in Harrow.”
“Call me when you get there. Just grab your keys and go. Don’t pack.” Betsy said flipping off her phone and tossing it on the bed to quickly pull on the rest of her uniform. She went to her balcony and took off into the air towards Whitehall.