Yes I live. Yes I am still working on Fly Together. But this has been stuck in my mind and I can't get rid of it. Warning: This is very dark. Everyone is criminally insane, ultra-violent, and generally horrible people. The romance is unhealthy, overly dependant, and very obsessive. It is entirely based on some fabulous artwork that I'm obsessed with (I'll leave a link!) . I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

twitter(dotcomdot) jindianjun000/status/1146437345152909312 (remove the spaces and add a dot com because FFN is stupid)

"Get your ass in there!" the voice growled, hands shoving the unfortunate man forward and slamming the door behind him. With a gulp, he glanced down the dimly lit hallway. Internally, he was quaking, but showing fear was a surefire way to get killed. He straightened up, making sure his tie was in the correct position, before heading down the hallway. As he lifted his hand to knock on the dark oak door before him, a soft voice stopped him.

"Enter, Mr. Harold." Shuddering internally at the ice cold voice, he strode in and stood, back ramrod straight, arms crossed behind his back as he glanced around frantically. He'd never been in this room before, the office of the White Queen. It was nothing like he'd imagined. Dark, stained wood decorated the walls, interspersed with a lighter grain, giving a strange impression of alternating depth. Bookshelves lined each wall, stocked with numbers of perfectly kept and meticulously organized books. On the side opposing the hallway, the back wall opened into massive windows, giving a glimpse of the city below, the soft lights of the city skyline wafting up to highlight the figure before him.

Her back to him, arms crossed behind, the slim figure in a perfectly crafted white suit didn't seem imposing to those who didn't know her. She wasn't tall, and while she was fit, she didn't appear threatening at first. She almost appeared delicate at first glance, the desk between them serving as a reminder of the difference in size, him towering over her. Then, she turned around, their eyes meeting...and Harold was reminded why she was known as the White Queen.

"Please be seated, Mr. Harold," the voice offered, a hand gesturing delicately at the luxurious chair on the other side of the desk. Gulping in fear, he did as she commanded, sitting down with alacrity. She proceeded to sit as well, moving with all the grace of the dancer as she steepled her fingers before her face, gazing across at Harold. "I believe I'm aware of what transpired, but I would like to hear what you have to say."

"U-uh, well, well, uh," he began to respond, before being interrupted.

"Do not stammer. I would ask you not to waste my time any further than you already have." The tone of the voice never changed from it's soft and quiet tone, but he felt his spine grow rigid in fear. Though he was afraid, he knew he had to answer.

"It...it was the Red Queen! We couldn't do anything! She-" an upraised hand cut him off.

"Very well. It was what I thought. One moment, Mr. Harold," the woman rose to her feet, stepping across the room to a small cupboard along the wall. Pulling out a small box, she carefully cradled it in her hands as she brought it over to the desk and set it before him. "There. I trust you know what to do." With those words, she turned around, crossing her arms behind her back and gazing back out of the window.

Harry opened up the box with trembling hands, all the breath leaving him when he saw the revolver, laid carefully on a bed of crushed velvet, one bullet beside it. He gulped. Lifting it up, he chambered the round with shaking hands, barely able to focus through the terror. As he snapped the cylinder closed, the round chambered to be fired with the next pull of the trigger, he glanced up at the seemingly unmoved figure by the window. He glanced down at the gun in his hands, then back up again at the back of the White Queen before him. Raising the gun up to his head, hands shaking, he gulped, eyes wide as he continued staring at her, willing her to move, to react, to show some indication she was paying attention, but it was as though she was a statue. He knew better...but he tried. He pulled the gun from his head and, uttering a silent prayer, aimed it at her back.

The sound of a gunshot brought two guards to the door, cautiously entering as they had been instructed to. Before they opened the door, they heard a heavy sigh, undercut by the sound of sobs from a man. As the door opened, they saw her, signature blue-white revolver in hand, smoke still pouring from the barrel as the man they had dragged in earlier cradled his now ruined hand. She shook her head slowly.

"You should have accepted my mercy," she remarked. With a precision and speed no one had time to react to, another three shots rang out. One into his uninjured hand, one into his left knee, one into his right knee. Ignoring the screams of agony, she looked up with uninterested eyes at her guards. "Please send the cleaning crew up as soon as possible."

"What should we do with him, Ma'am?" the one asked cautiously.

She looked down at the sniveling man before her. "Give him to Belladonna. He is of no further use to me." Setting her revolver down on the desk, she went back to staring out the window, so still she looked as though she were carved from marble. With a pair of smart salutes, the two guards began the arduous task of carrying the sobbing, broken form of Harry down the hallway to the nearby elevator.

"So...is this...normal?" the one guard asked the other, his voice hesitant.

"Is what normal?" The other one replied, grunting as he tried to steady the man against the wall so he could punch in the call code for the elevator.

"Miss Schnee-"

"Don't say her last name!" the other guard hissed, eyes darting about in panic.

"What? Why?"

The older guard turned to the other, sighing. "Listen kid, I know you're new here, but if you wanna live, let me give you some simple rules. Rule one, the boss is the White Queen or Ma'am, nothing else. Don't say her name. Rule two: whatever you do, don't mention the other queen. Three, the less time you spend around the boss or Belladonna, the longer you'll live."

"...but we're going to see Belladonna."

"We're going to drop this corpse off at her place," he corrected.

The younger guard looked down at Harry. "Corpse? He's still alive, ain't he?"

"Yeah. And he'll stay that way for a long time, if Belladonna gets her way. But corpse is the best term for what he's gonna be. Just get him into the elevator. Belladonna's in Sub-basement 2."

As they manhandled Harry into the elevator, the sobbing grating on both their nerves, the younger one piped up again. "Is...is it a good idea to work here?"

The other guard hit the button for the floor they were headed to. "Shoulda thought of that before you signed up. Jacques Schnee was a bastard of a man. But his daughters...when the White Queen took over, she walked up to her father and shot him point blank in the face. No talk. No threats. No chance for anyone to react. She stepped into his office like she had a thousand times before, held up her gun, and blasted a hole in his face."

As the floors ticked down, the younger guard, eyes wide, ventured further. "Wh-what did she do next? Was she sad?"

"Sad?! Hah! She took one look at the mess, calmly called for the cleanup crew to remove the 'unsightly blood', and started sorting the paperwork. She never flinched. Not a single trace of emotion in those eyes. I was there, and lemme tell you, I've seen statues with more emotion. That was the day she earned the name the White Queen. She's not human, kid. And you'd do well to remember that. Keep your head down, and you might make it."

Any further conversation was cut off by the sound of the elevator arriving, announcing it's finished task with a small ring. With a long-suffering sigh, the guards hefted up the limp body of Harry, now passed out from pain and blood loss, dangling between the two of them. The elevator doors opened to reveal a large, open basement area, with well organized shelves holding a number of boxes the outfit kept for use. Weapons, ammunition, tools, drugs, whatever they needed was stored down here.

With a jerk of his head to show the direction they needed to go, the older guard guided the younger with their unwilling passenger towards a simple metal door across the way from the elevator. As they reached it, the older guard held up a hand to the other and turned to look at him, narrowing his eyes. "Whatever she says, respond with as few words as possible. None if you can manage it. And don't look her in the eyes." The younger opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the other guard knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, the door swung open slowly. The woman before them was dressed in a perfectly cut black and silver dress, small specks of silvery thread flickering in the low light. A slit in the side revealed tantalizing glimpses of smooth, pale skin as the bottom of the dress swished gently. Long black hair with a slight curl trailed down over her bare shoulders, two glimmering amber eyes looking at the two guards with a soft smile.

"Hello, gentlemen. Oh, Garret, it is good to see you again. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" she asked softly, her smile never fading.

"Ma'am, the Queen asked us to deliver this man to you," the older guard responded sharply, carefully keeping his eyes focused just to the left of her.

"Oh my. Whatever happened to him?" she asked, eyes flickering down to glance at the groaning figure, head lolling about as he began to return to consciousness. She glanced back up at the younger guard, her smile growing slightly. "Care to explain? And please, introduce yourself. My name is Blake Belladonna. And yours?"

The younger guard opened his mouth to reply, but Garret's elbow in his side choked him off. "His name is Billy, Ma'am."

Blake giggled. "Oh Garret, you're always so careful around me. I suppose I've earned it though. But enough of the pleasantries. What did Harold here do what so angered Weiss that she'd give him to me?"

"He lost a shipment. Then he didn't take the Queen's Mercy."

Blake arched an eyebrow. "An entire shipment? How did he do that?"

Garret gulped. "The Red Queen."

Blake's entire demeanor changed at those words, the soft smile disappearing as her teeth were bared in a snarl, but not one of anger. Her eyes went wide, blood rushing to her cheeks as she, with a swiftness Billy wasn't expecting, snatched Harry from their grasp and yanked him to his feet. Slamming him into the wall with manic energy, she dragged his face towards hers. So close her breath wafted out and rushed over his cheeks, she commanded him to speak. "Did you see her?!"

Harry, only barely conscious and still delirious from pain, only mumbled under his breath. With an exasperated huff, Blake flicked her fingernail, a small vial appearing in her hand from seemingly nowhere. With practiced ease, she snatched up a needle from a shelf behind the metal doorway and filled it as Harry collapsed to the ground, no longer supported by the manic woman. Garret grabbed Billy and pulled him back, walking backwards slowly.

Blake lifted Harry with one hand. "You will talk," she commanded, as she plunged the needle into his neck with her other hand. Harry's body went rigid instantly, eyes snapping open wide. He coughed, practically vibrating as his eyes flickered about wildly, blood already beginning to seep from the corners. Blake's hand gripped tighter as she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Did you see her?" she demanded once more.

"S-see who? The...the re-"

"No!" Blake roared, slamming him back into the wall, stunning him. "Her! The Dragon! The Phoenix! The Red Queen's pet enforcer! Did you see her?" Harry opened his mouth as if to respond, but he began to shake, coughing, blood flying along with spittle. Blake calmly sidestepped the flying fluids, letting Harry collapse to the floor. She sighed, her manic energy seemingly deflated, shoulders slumping. "Not enough of a dose yet I suppose. Well, he'll live. I can ask later." She turned back around, her soft smile back in place, looking as docile as she had initially.

Billy's eyes were wide in shock as Garret kept him slightly behind him, saluting stiffly. "W-we'll be going now, Ma'am!"

"Of course, Garret. Do let Weiss know I am appreciative of this lovely gift. You should also get the cleaning crew up there soon. I imagine it's beginning to stain, and we know how she feels about stains.

"Y-yes! Right away!" Garret replied, turning around quickly and shoving Billy towards the elevator. Blake dismissed them from her mind as she turned back to Harry, his still body resting against the wall, eyes wide open but mind shut down, red foam gathering at his lips.

"We're going to have such fun, you and I," Blake remarked, grabbing one of his legs and dragging him behind her, through the metal doorway. "I cannot wait to hear all about my beloved…"