It happened too fast for anyone to react, and the people could only watch as a man (his face unclear) hoisted up a larger man than he was, like some kind of doll.
Mr. Valen, upon lifting Jamal (a humanoid blob of white light from his perspective), felt waves of energy rushing into him, so much so that the wounds on his form began to heal.
But strangely enough, though he knew he was healing faster, he could not perceive his form; he could not even see the arm which he had used to neutralize this threat.
«She's escaping!»
«Kill her!»
«Rape her!»
«Banana!»
«Go! Go Now!»
«They're Coming For You!»
«HIDE!»
A surge of voices with no particular gender whispered in his mind, drip-feeding predatory ideas into his very core.
Jamel appeared to be paralyzed by some strange force, his blood leaking, flowing down through Mr. Valen's fingers and down the recesses of his sleeve.
His form visibly and rapidly thinned as he was devoured, appearing like some malnourished person, that was until Mr. Valen swung him to the side, allowing him to hit the ground with a heavy thud.
"Fuck!"
"My God!"
The crowd screamed, scattering in panic as they watched Jamal convulse, his form spasming uncontrollably.
Alice, amid this scattering crowd, watched the hooded man rush into the club, her curiosity urging her to follow. But then, "Come on, what are you standing there for?" Sophie dragged her away from the deserted line, their forms disappearing into the night.
'I have to pee though,' Alice could not help but think, her steps faltering as she kept up with Derald and her sister.
Meanwhile, within the club, the frantic energy of the street outside died the moment the heavy door swung shut behind Mr. Valen.
He was then plunged into a world of sensory contrast (a world of whirling white figures from his point of view), but in the middle stood a single, distinct red humanoid, one that sparked his hunger, one that he followed.
«There she is!»
«Rip off her limbs!» the voice suggested, trying to compel him, their every syllable strengthening his craving.
The air was thick and warm, heavy with the intoxicating perfume of spilled absinthe, expensive cigars, and the sweet, musky scent of sweat.
What was it about this place? Was it the narcotic haze that clung to the skin? The light that pulsed as though living? The glint of glassware and jewelry? Or simply the feeling of impending death that clung to one's bones.
The thumping bass had (at some point) stopped, making way for a newer, slower song, one that people danced to, but Mr. Valen did not care.
He simply moved, closer and closer towards that reddish humanoid, cornered, with no other entrance or exit except the one he came from.
In the corner of the circular room, a lone saxophone sang slow, a sulking melody that seemed to coil through the air like a noodle.
Mr. Valen slipped past more and more couples who danced on the small dance floor, not to a beat, but to the rhythm of the sax.
And there, at the heart of it all, was Carla, in the form of a black woman in scrubs, her arm bloodied as she stood.
Of course, her form and Mr. Valen's drew cautious attention, with the crowd involuntarily forming a circle for this strange duo, who slowly began to circle each other.
"Bam!"
"Bam!"
Suddenly, a loud shot rang out as Carla pulled out a gun and shot at Valen's chest, shots that sent him staggering back, blood spewing out of the wounds.
"Ahhhhh!"
"Shit!"
"Out of my Way!"
The club erupted into chaos as they ran, emptied within minutes.
It was a sight: people clawing at each other, tripping over each other, shoving each other in the instinct of self-preservation, all in an effort to get out, but Carla did not care.
She simply pointed her gun at Valen (one she had stolen from Hunter) and growled at his standing figure, her breath heavy as she observed his blackened eyes.
He seemed weakened by his wounds, but she could not tell, for she too was on the verge of collapse.
But even in this state, even amid the turmoil, she couldn't help but feel something well up inside her—indignation that such a man would cause her so much trouble.
'And the worst part, the fucking worst part is,' Carla thought, her hand tightening around her gun. "You made it all up didn't you?" She asked laughing slightly, her voice echoing in the hall.
But Mr. Valen just observed, standing, chaotic thoughts raging in his mind:
«She's talking to us!»
«That insect!»
«Kill her!»
«Rip out her teeth!»
«Apple sauce!»
"What was it?" Carla asked again, her voice growing more unstable. "Was it a plea for attention? Trying so desperately to make me notice you, to make 'you' feel special with your human-like smile and your human-like fucking face? Or are you just looking for someone to remind you that you're a sociopathic monster, a waste of fucking air?" she spiraled, her gun hand trembling so violently the barrel wavered through the air.
"Trauma-induced Anemia, hmm, it's a big word, isn't it? A big excuse," she stated circling the man. "He's unfortunate, he's unstable, haha, y-you want to know something interesting, you are completely sane and rational, that's why I despise you, you're this rational thing with the face of a human that I've had to sit with and try to tame week after week, a monster-
"Swooh!"
Mr. Valen growled slightly and kicked off the ground at Carla's position, his sudden movement shocking her to pull the trigger, but the man slapped the gun down, "bam!" The shot hit the floor.
In that instant, just when he closed in, Carla noticed that his blackened eyes had cleared up, retaining their vortex-like appearance, his odd pupils shaking with rage as he swung his fist at her.
"Swoosh!"
She dodged and her tail flashed at him, trying to pierce through his form since the bullets proved to be ineffective in ending his life.
But Mr. Valen simply side-stepped and jumped back, his eyes narrowed as he spoke. "So that is what you think of me... Fascinating!"
Carla's eyes widened when she heard him speak, his tone deathly calm despite his apparent rage.
She felt that something was horribly wrong with this man, but she just couldn't pinpoint what.
Meanwhile, Mr. Valen just stood there, taking a breath at the voices still raging in his mind, 'Would you stop that, it's gotten pretty annoying,' he addressed the shadowy humanoid.
«Banana!» It screeched in protest, but Mr. Valen ignored it, shaking his head. Carla watched him.
As though he was just now noting her gaze, Mr. Valen smiled. "Do not worry, It required some concentration, but I have learned to govern this state... somewhat. Every fibre of my being screams for me to slit your throat and bathe in your blood. I feel no pain. I hear nothing but the sounds you produce. And your movements have become horribly sluggish. In essence, Carla, you will die today."
His words were haughty, boastful even, but they were spoken with a kind of indifference that did not feel like indifference; rather, it felt horribly malicious.
'This-This kid, This insect,' Carla thought, her gaze blurring from exhaustion. 'Why did I listen to Amethyst, I had him, I had him, if only I had slit his throat then and there, if only I had-'
"-VALEN!" She suddenly yelled rushing up to him with inhuman speed, her tail striking as fast as she could at Mr. Valen's neck.
But he dodged, ducking before she could even fully command her tail, his leg sweeping at her heels.
"Bam!"
"Ahhh!" Carla screamed as she felt her ankles crack, her form swept from the ground by sheer force and twisting oddly in the air.
"Bang!" Mr. Valen then stomped on her haphazard figure, shooting her into a wooden counter, where she crashed through the structure and into glasses and drinks.
"Your gifts were never intended for physical combat. You keep pace only by virtue of your superior level," Mr. Valen spoke, drawing closer. "I had originally believed your marks could only compel and heal. But when I witnessed you alter your very form, I was forced to reconsider my entire strategy. A shame you harbor such hatred-"
"It's not just me," Carla interrupted, her voice equivalent to a growl as she rose from the rubble. "Everyone legitimately does hate you, you're just a horribly unpleasant person to be around, you make people uncomfortable, you never say the right thing, I mean just look at you now-"
"You expressed a desire to see me without the 'person suit,' did you not?" Mr. Valen spoke his face expressionless as he began walking towards Carla. "You insisted I could be myself in your presence, is that not so?" he asked again, a small smile spawning on his face.
From his point of view, he could see Carla's avatar; the tentacle began to shudder at his approach, emitting a tantalizing aroma that made his mouth water.
The sight filled him with a primal sense of glee, potentiated by his widening, involuntary smile.
He could tell she was afraid, terrified of him for some reason (a behavior that persisted even when she had the power in their relationship). But why was that?
"Crack!" Mr. Valen stepped through the rubble, the wood (or pieces of wood) splitting beneath his feet.
In an instant, he was only a hair's breadth away from Carla, and so he reached out, caressing her neck, smiling as the essence of her avatar and her own essence began flowing toward his form like vapor drawn into a vacuum, stimulating and healing his injuries.
It was not clear before (due to the darkness), but Carla could see it now: a visible shadowy mist rising from his form.
"Will you answer my question truthfully?" Mr. Valen then whispered to her, tracing the goosebumps that lined her black skin.
"Y-y-yes," Carla stuttered heavily, feeling herself growing weaker by the instant, a primal fear overcoming her, freezing her in place.
"Good girl," Mr. Valen responded before asking, his fingers digging into her neck, drawing blood. "Can you use your marks to enthrall yourself?"
Carla, her face already deathly pale from Mr. Valen's absorption, shuddered at those words. She suddenly understood what he wanted.
And so a bitter smile spread across her face, and with what little energy she had left she tapped her chest, and the last of her compulsion marks appeared; a spinning circle that pulsed with a purple light.
Seeing this, Mr. Valen smiled and spoke. "You will obey my will and mine alone. Should you attempt to undo this mark, you shall forget how to speak. You and all your powers are now mine. You are my slave."
"I will obey your every will and no one else's. I will forget how to speak if I try to undo the mark I placed on myself. I and all of my powers belong to you now. I am your slave," Carla wept, a tear streaking down her cheek. "Valen."
With those words, the mark pulsed faintly, and Mr. Valen stopped his absorption.
"Let us test this, shall we?" He smiled, asking immediately after. "Why is it that you fear me so profoundly?"
Carla, at the sound of those words, shuddered once more, her iris's trembling as she peered straight at Mr. Valen. "I-I-I-"
"Speak!" Mr. Valen commanded heavily, a frown gracing his face, but he was content, he looked above and saw that he had devoured Carla's avatar in its entirety.
"I was there when you killed your birth mother," Carla rasped, her form slumping, passing out in his embrace.
The words rang in Mr. Valen's mind like a bell, his lips widening into an involuntary smile.