“Where the hell are we?” Vin’s head was still spinning even while he staggered arm-to-arm with JJ toward the elevator, and trying to keep his balance while going up to the apartment, as the cloudiness of his nightmarish visions slowly cleared away. The realization of what transpired earlier didn’t dawn on him until he noticed his blood-stained clothing, shifting uncomfortably at the horrid sight, and wanting to be anywhere but in his own body. His life had taken a turn for the worse, and he didn’t know how to escape it, not this time. He’d always had a contingency plan when things went awry, an excuse, some close acquaintances that could bail him out at a moment's notice...but this was different, and his list of escape routes and allies grew thinner as time passed.

Vincent found himself in JJ’s apartment, leaning against the threshold of the door to the spare room, which the woman had mentioned he could use to “unwind” while her and the Nates took care of whatever business. He looked out into the large living room, running his eyes over myriad of ornate furniture, ceiling fixtures, and artwork.

“This chick has [i]some[/i] taste, I’ll give her that...” He mumbled under his breath, catching a glimpse of the hauntingly interesting seated statue near the rear windows. “...must be an old boyfriend…”

He smirked, trying to mentally separate himself from the harsh reality of his powers...his curse, which was a more likely fit for him. How was he to control something he didn’t understand? Did the rest of them suffer from the same [i]disease[/i]? Vin didn’t know if what he saw in his vision was at all prophetic or merely a trip down the road of guilt, as though his own misdeeds and shortcomings were catching up to remind him of just how flawed he really was.

“Why the hell am I here?” He mused aloud, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to go into the spare room, clumsily searching around the closet for linens and such, before stepping into the brightly lit bathroom fashioned in an semi-[i]Tuscan[/i] style decor, and finished with spanish floor tiles that gave it a more welcoming feel. 

[i]I certainly don't feel welcome.[/i]

Vin locked the door behind him, and stepped up to the oval mirror above the sink, examining his face for the first time since he left his own apartment. How many days has it been? Even his watch was missing, so time was as elusive as everything else that occurred. He rubbed his dirty stubbled chin, running blood-encrusted fingers over the bruise on his jaw and cut on his forehead. Vin's body briefly quivered, and the skin felt like it was crawling, as though he were coming off a bad acid trip, but way more lucid.

He unbuttoned his shirt, quickly removed the soiled rags, and let them fall to the floor as he glanced over the various symbols, patterns, and creatures that covered his chest and arms. The serpent that wrapped around his forearm, bearing a fanged skull, and sharp talons appeared to slowly slither in place, causing Vin to recoil in surprise. 

“What the...?”  His voice echoed off the bathroom walls, as he frantically shook his arm, and attempting to brush off the creature. He held his arm up, staring at the image again, which appeared to be unmoving. The tribal, woven patterns along his upper arm left a numbing sensation that pulsated before settling back to normal. 

“Shit…” Vincent quickly removed the rest of his clothes, jumped into the shower, and turned on the hot water, which started out as a soothing cascade across the otherwise awkward sensation of the tattoos to outright pain as the water hit it’s peak temperature. 

Vincent grunted loudly in between screams of pain and anguish as he did his best to scrub his body, hoping to wash away the wretched nightmares that continued to manifest on his skin, and his soul. The long scaly [i]wyvern[/i] creature that adorned his chest squirmed and lashed it’s dark wings out violently, attempting to pull itself from it’s host. It was a feeling of one’s skin being pulled away from the muscle one layer at a time and a pain that brought the man to his knees, as he reached for the hot water handle to turn it off. 

“What...the fuck...is happening to me?” He slumped down onto the shower floor, propping himself against the tiled wall, shaking uncontrollably as the tattoos began to settle as they once were.

[@Subject Zero]
[@Xandrya]