Chapter Text
Next night; Thursday. Blanket clouds. No moon…
Tanner drummed his fingers against the sides of his thighs, allowing his posture to slump while he waited in the shadows for the telltale mechanical click of a lockpick. However gentlemanly as it was, chances were that his concern came from mere paranoia and not actual reality. Still, the harrowing thought that Luna could fall victim to someone else, brought him out tonight - so soon after his last visit.
One of the pressing tasks that came across his desk that day was concerning the sex trafficker Demitri Something-Something . Tanner didn't know the man personally, only frequented similar circles when there was a particular ingredient he couldn't get through work connections. Forensics didn't often deal with sedatives except in small increments used to trace remnants of blood toxicity reports. Black market dealings were great for bulk buying in the more seedy elements he specialized in, but it also meant he rubbed elbows with thuggish scum. This kidnapper - aforementioned scum - had a distinct MO, and Tanner spotted it the second he saw the mold impressions across his work desk. Deep grooves in the metal from a thick bowie knife; stainless steel, hardened. Amateur .
The last thing Tanner wanted was this garden variety criminal free to snatch up Luna. Unfortunately, the impressions and photographs weren't enough to convict a man absent from their databases, and the workday ended before the DNA evidence brought forward could be processed.
He knew, though - Tanner knew it was Dimitri fulfilling an order, and the bald fuck was doing it in Luna's neighborhood. So… he waited outside, in the dark for the lockpicking tune with a syringe filled to the brim with rocuronium and midazolam. Horrific side effects provided the recipient received their dose from a madman. If the chemical composition within his needle happened to be too much for the old man, well… mistakes happened. He'd be killing two birds with a single stone: remove a competing threat to Luna, and test his latest concoction. The lights in her home had a tendency to flick off far too often to leave her at the mercy of potential sex slavery.
As the night progressed, the clouds swam across the sky like smoke. Clogged stars barely winked down, and the moon - growing fuller - sat above the wisps like a blanketed bulb. It was a perfect night for the kidnapper to show up. Funnily enough, Tanner didn't have to wait long after that thought to hear the telltale click-tick-tchink-click of Dimitri’s so-called skills.
Tanner raised the hypodermic to the night's low light, smiled warmly at the shifting sheen of chemical catatonia, and gave the plunger a menacing little squirt. There were so many ways to kill someone, but he was thinking something simple. A body dump in an alleyway or the classic corpse in the dumpster schtick? Usually, this opportunity would be a magical moment, but truth be told… there was a thick lining of distaste in Tanner's mouth at the thought of even touching someone like the Russian. Something about Luna being subjected to the perverted whims of degenerates made his skin crawl - made the concept of human trafficking disgusting, which was an emotion he had but didn't really feel before now.
A phlegmy sniff signaled baldies' location.
With the overcast clouds, the night was nearly black.
Tanner followed Luna's house's walls, one palm barely caressing the rough stucco with his needle raised beside his chest. Outlined in black, Dimitri broke the lock on her window with an audible, smug smile. Tanner grinned, watching the man pocket his tools in a large thigh pouch, before turning his eggshell head back to the window.
The timing was everything.
Tanner waited for the exact moment when the muscles in Dimitri's forearms tensed, ready to lift the window open, and used that moment of locked physical action to lunge forward. Sadly, and perhaps fatally so, he missed the carotid artery and ended up needle deep in a thick trapezius muscle. Not exactly an ideal spot for sedatives. Intramuscular took too long… and far too much potency was lost due to the dose's time-lapse.
Thankfully, the night also provided ample places to disappear in as the drugs did their job. He tucked himself back between some garden furniture and a tall, sap-smelling hedge as Dimitri stumbled around in the shadows, grabbing at no one and nothing. Seventy-nine long seconds of this ended in the kidnapped face down in the grass; left leg twitching. He wasn't dead, nor was he asleep, not with the injection area being so off, but a man of his size still succumbed rather quickly to his newest cocktail.
Tanner smiled to himself inside the darkness, as the last muscle spasms began to settle across the thick Russian. A few fleeting finger twitches said the timer had started. Six to eight hours from now, accounting for the accidental intramuscular injection canceling out any overdose concerns, the kidnapper would stir from his chemical paralysis none the wiser. But… did he really deserve that? Of course, if Tanner let him live - amnesiac brain making Luna a new target once more - then the problem still remained: Luna wasn't safe. There was, after all, so much fun to be had with a body awake yet unable to move...
He stepped calmly to the body face down in the grass before straining quietly as he toed Dimitri over on his back. Glazed eyes, twitching wetly, starred in a stupor at the sky.
Oh, what entertaining slices and gouges Tanner could have with him if only Luna didn’t begin talking to herself from inside the house. Suddenly, she was all that lingered on his mind.
With a gluttonous smile, Tanner combed his hair back into a neat wave with his fingers, teasing a loose strand back in place so he looked the part. The altercation had brought a little sheen of sweat to his forehead, but nothing worth taking was without a little struggle every now and then, right?
Tanner looked down at the lump of muscle and bone beneath him and felt his lips peel back in a boundless grin. "Well, this is a conundrum, isn't it? What to do with you now, I wonder?"
Same Thursday. Reruns. Takeout.
Luna pulls herself away from the monitor only after the bottom lid of her left eye starts twitching. She's been working too much as per usual, except today there's been little to no progress. Three reports have come back stickered in red errors, and she can't afford another fuck up. Even swiveling around to find darkness surrounding her - the afterburner of text overlaying the blackout living room - proves she needs a break.
It takes several seconds to realize that no lights mean it's time to investigate the cause. Really, if there wasn't just one electrician in this whole damn town… Luna's already dreaming about light switches and circuit breakers as it is.
Outside, muffled by layers of plasterboard and insulation, something metallic snaps. She remembers the sound of distant bullets and police sirens. Blue splattered in red. Marble trim and coffin shopping… umbrellas in the rain with wet, muddy holes...
A slight tremor of fear cuddles around her stomach, but she's heard all sorts of sounds in this house before, and she's had blackouts too, and all has been well. No monsters - that she can prove - have lurched at her from the blackness yet. It's still uncharacteristically unnerving to be so spooked like this. Could be that, after several hours spent combing through the human refuse hiding behind unobtrusive looking mobiles and front doors, Luna is starting to believe every alcove hides a killer.
Someone, one day, is going to have enough of it all and burn this town down…
"I just need to make it through the night. Like always, soon it’ll be morning..." Which has been her nightly mantra for years, it seems.
Going off muscle memory, Luna shuffles her sock-covered feet across the living room to the light switch on the wall, flicks it once, then twice, then a third time. Still pitch black nothing. Odd, considering her monitor still bathes a radius of three-feet in pale blue light. She squints at the screen in confusion for a long moment before remembering she bought that battery backup last week. No longer is her monitor going ape shit a good indication that the breaker needs to be switched, which means…
Luna slides her pocket flashlight from the desk drawer and clicks it on. A far-reaching cone of light coats the wood floors and open closet door. She had a nightmare a month back of someone hiding in there, waiting for her to pass by so they could jump out and tackle her to the ground. Since then, she's made a point to keep all her closet doors open, especially this one. For a moment, she scrutinizes the inside of it, making double sure no one is hiding in the skinny reaches of darkness - all clear.
The flashlight illuminates the hallway, but that's another thing she hasn't been able to shake off.
Luna is no stranger to bad dreams and night terrors. Ever since she was a child, she's had them - nightmares about larger kids than her pushing her around, then peers in college harassing her, coworkers undermining and finally now… where she fears real horrors and real villains and…
… and whatever man or monster came for her last night.
Sleepwalking was a new one, but the stress from all these recent reports must have gotten under her skin more than she wanted to admit. Last night might have been the most realistic one yet. Even now, she can feel that stiff dryness from this morning. She'd woken up naked as a blue jay in bed with damp hair and unconditioned skin, uncomfortably clean from the shower she’s barely finished. She’d dreamt of syringes full of purple jelly and long-fingered hands prying her arms and legs away from her torso. There were teeth in all the soft junctions of her body, tearing into flesh and nerves. Tongues were eroding skin into puffy red welts. She had her fingers lodged in someone's silky auburn locks, holding a hungry mouth close to her-
A clatter outside ricochets into her ears.
Luna freezes, memories stunted as she strains to listen to whatever is happening outside her kitchen window. It's still dark, too dark to see that far, even with her flashlight beam shaking a dim halo over her dining table.
For some reason, she's sweating.
Thinking about last night - about the dreams - has stretched every last nerve she has to the breaking point - her insides throb softly as her heart bounces in her ears. Shuffling echoes filter in through the glass and the curtains, but it's fading. The sounds scuffle away as does a thick crunch of grass and something… something muffled and human triggers real panic.
She has nine-one-one on speed dial, but she's never used it. Does she call them now?
Luna holds her breath until her face feels two sizes too big, but she can't hear anything anymore. After several moments of standing there, flashlight in the window over the dining table, Luna finally starts to breathe again. She deflates as much as her stiff muscles will allow and carefully steps down her hallway to Sarah's room. Her award ceremony portrait looks down on her fondly as she enters, checks the locks on the window, and flips the breaker.
With the lights back on, safety has returned. All the boogeymen feel miles away even if they might as well be hugging the walls in waiting. It's an illusion, but one she holds onto as she carefully opens the door back into the hallway. The coast is clear, she remarks in relief only to get two steps down the wooden floor before someone leans from around the corner with a smile.
Luna feels her heart stop.
...
...
… thump
An auburn lock falls free from a slick-back styled do. The smile widens into a maw of straight, white teeth. Colored eyes brighten. And then… the intruder slides away… out of sight… as if they were never there...
It feels like her feet are stapled to the floor. She can't move, let alone breathe. Is her heart still beating? … thump… thump… Luna puts a palm to her chest, feeling the heavy beating and pushes down over her heaving chest as if that will protect her.
Nine-one-one is still on speed dial, she reminds herself. She could call the police, and they could arrive just in time to clean her up off the floor, or she could back up slowly to run and hide in Sarah's room like a scared little child. The problem is, though, that Luna takes too long to think about these things - she spends too much time waiting and considering, even more time trying to determine if she’s hallucinating or not. Lack of sleep will do that, but this isn’t the case now. She's stuck in freeze mode where a smarter person would choose flight or fight.
A man, well-built… tall and clean-cut steps into the hallway with that same predatory smile of utter delight. "It's too little too late to back away now, Luna. I've saved you from a rather unpleasant career path, so how about we talk for once? I promise I’ll be gentle."
The industrial syringe looped in two fingers proves otherwise, but she's glued; stuck where she is. Luna can't move, let alone ask him the million questions rushing through her mind. Who are you? What do you want? I've seen you before… All these and more stick to the back of her tongue, unable to morph into actual words. Not even a string of gibberish laced in anxiety comes out, just… just nothing...
Whoever the man in the lab coat is, he arches his back before closing the distance in three long strides. The wolfish smile turns into a broad, canary-eating grin. Luna knows, deep down, that even if she could move - even if she could talk - he would win. She's unarmed and small in comparison, and they both know it.
"Ready or not, Luna… Here. I. Come." And he does. He's towering over her, trapping her against the table at the end with all her silly vanilla candles and the red man glaring down. The sharp odor of carbonic acid and cigarettes strikes against her nostrils, but beneath that is something musky and spicy, like toasted nutmeg and sweat. Suddenly, she knows exactly who he is... and wonders exactly which are nightmares and which are memories…
“Y’yu’you…” she struggles.
Luna's brain fires off enough neurochemicals to recall past lives, but it's not fast enough to gain her bearings before that needle slips beneath her jaw. She gasps, blushing at the way it sounds on her own ears and struggles to breathe as a warm, liquid euphoria seeps into her soul. The drug works swiftly on her senses, removing any equilibrium as she shudders and reaches for purchase, ankles turning to jello. Her palms meet a hard, warm chest, further deepening the glow across her cheeks. A wide, firm hand cups the small of her back, and another hot wave of stifled memories wracks her body. Her fists tighten in reflex around the lapels of a white, starchy coat and-
"I… know you," she manages in a weak whisper.
The man smiles brightly; eyes shining with mirth, "I admit, brewing a complete amnesiac is difficult for even the most seasoned chemist, but it's worked swimmingly until now. I wonder how much you still can't recall…"
Several fingers rub into her spine, massaging old knots still unaffected by his sedative. Another vivid recollection of beating shower water and unbridled moans hit her. His wet smile is there too, holding her as sharp throbs of pleasure ebb away. The recollection brings a breathy curse to her lips.
"Ah, yes,” he sees the way her eyes dart and shine in remembrance, “I see you remember more than I give you credit for. My apologies, Luna… "
Luna shivers as he cups her jaw like the lead in some cheesy romance. His thick, staggered tone when he says her name lingers in her gut like a knife. It's the eyes that remind her of more nightmares, but it's his hands that press old bliss into her nerves. Unraveled locks of auburn bring back more of those memories. Luna sees him leaning over her, her body still wet and naked from the shower, stroking her thighs and knees before slowly - achingly slowly - spreading them apart.
Luna whimpers as if feeling it all over again.
It's hard to fight the lethargy attacking her senses. The pleasure from whatever drug he's injected into her neck makes her apathetic to whatever might happen next. His thumb strokes her lower lip with as much malice as there is a possession; obsession. It makes her skin prickle for a moment before everything starts to go numb. All her bones disappear into a cocoon of limp muscles, and her mind slips back into a cavern of sleep.
The last thing she feels before the drugs overlap her conscious mind is lips on her throat… and a hungry, desperate groan.