Count the Shadows

Cops and Robbers.

It was the classic childhood game filled with oversized hats, toy handcuffs, thick belts, masks, and squirt guns. She liked the masks the best.

With the feeling of the soft cotton underneath her fingertips, each tiny stitch that embraced the corners, Siani was obsessed. It was a simple children's game but she made it a lifestyle. There were the others, the underground system of rebellion. These fancies took all shapes and sizes through obsession, murder, trickery. It was the world she lived in, and she loved it. Siani wasn't the normal thief--taking without motive.

She was better than that, much better. With her guiltless ability to kill without a second thought, Siani's name spread across the Netherworlds. She wasn't afraid, her heart frozen in time and space. The others, they called her the Darkness. She kept her short black hair close to her face and her nails long. They feared her—every last one of them, from the killers to the thieves. The best of the Netherworlds crumbled under her touch.

She had only one goal, to kill.

Leaning up against the tower, Siani tightened the blue band covering the length of her arm. The tattoo inked into her arm made her stand out against the different colors of the people surrounding her. She had to become one of them, the forgotten, in order to be the best. The armbands. You could find one on every arm. A silent reminder of where you belong. There were the greens, the blues, a few reds here and there, but you could not escape.

She’d been labeled a shadow, an outcast, by the Watchers. They ran the Netherworlds, marking each person and creature and soul that entered the lands with a tattoo. Children were told horror stories about the fury of the Watchers and warned never to cross them. They were an invisible force that lorded over the city. They cast Siani into oblivion, sentencing her to loneliness. She lived her life alone, speaking to no one and suffering in silence. She was avoided because of the slim tattoo etched down her arm. It spelled out what she was to become, Shadow. The others-the forgotten, the thieves, the children; they were all marked with colors signifying hope or defiance. The thieves and the ones in prison were marked with dark red, the color of the blood pumping through their veins. The prostitutes that covered every street corner were green, like the money they put their overly flexible bodies to use for. The cops, blue, matching their vests. The same vests that covered up their frail little hearts, full of blood waiting to be shed.

Admiring it for a moment, Siani ran a finger along the curves of her favorite pocket knife. The silver was adorned with various patterns and her fingers dipped with every crevice. It was handmade by the people that lived under the city. They'd tracked her down and gifted her with it. They said it would come in handy, that it would help. It had. It made Siani who she was: a full-blooded murderer.
She tucked the small knife into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled her sweatshirt closer to her body. Winter was coming, and Siani had nowhere to go. Her only option had been the shelters, that let even the yellows in; the filth of the city. They had turned her away with narrowed eyes and tight lips. Her hair whipped around in her face, wind heavy on her back as she walked down the street. A noise sounded behind her and she felt for the compact gun in her sweatshirt pocket.

The familiar object in her palm, she cradled the .45, her index finger resting on the trigger. With years of experience she turned quickly, slipping into the nearest alley. Pressed up against the building, Siani smiled. A blue had traced her steps, stopping cold dead upon the empty alleyway. His hands fingered the silver pistol held out at arm’s length. His grip on the gun was unsteady, and he was shaking all over. He growled at the silence, his eyes frantically scanning the darkness. He reeked of fear and pathetic attempts of confidence, and Siani thrived on it.

With learned precision her bullet buried itself in the blue's chest, sending him toppling to the ground. He had only moments and his eyes widened in horror as he saw Siani step out from the dark. The blue watched her materialize in front of him, her figure sliding into focus. The outline of her form was fuzzy and radiated darkness. As her form became solid, he saw the word emblazoned on her arm, how it glowed. Fear and pain oozed out of him like the crimson blood staining the concrete beneath his body. And again, Siani laughed.

Her cold, cruel laughter filled the night skies as the blue died. Taking the knife from her pocket, she flipped it open. Carving her initial into his neck, she kissed his cheek lightly-her gift to the soul of the forgotten murdered in cold blood. What she bestowed on those she killed made her famous among the Netherworlders, turning the armbands of her victims black to match her own. It was her trademark, an act unable to be recreated. Siani smirked as the shadows traveled through his body and she stepped away. She didn't need to see how his eyes would turn black, and the shadows claim his corpse. It wasn't enough for her anymore, the thrill of the victim's demise. She needed more. She craved more.

Her smirk soon faded as another walked out from the shadows. She hadn't even seen him. Dark hair fell in his face, an amused expression adorning his sharp features. Her eyes flickered towards his arm, to find that trace of color she could identify him with. She found a band much like her own tied around his upper bicep. He started clapping, slowly at first but then gaining momentum.

"Very well done, m'dear. Nice form, and I am most definitely referring to that outfit."

Her eyes skimmed the newcomer, still apprehensive. Her knife she kept ready by her side, but his eyes never flicked towards it. His gaze never wavered, his eyes steadily locked onto hers.

"Who are you?" she spat, her glare intensifying.

"The real question, is not who am I...but rather who am I not?"

The tattoo on Siani's arm began to glow, sending shadows spiraling forwards. They wrapped around her torso protectively. The corpse on the ground twitched, the shadows running through him.

The mystery man chuckled, responding, "Easy there, cupcake. Mustn't let your little anger get the best of you now."

Her eyes flashed and she hissed quietly, "Do you know who I am, little boy?"

The stranger laughed broadly, announcing, "Oh yes. You're so famous!" Still laughing, he put on a high falsetto, "You're the oh so amazing Darkness! She's so cool. I hear she doesn't have a heart! It's been turned to stone!"

She growled, but yet he continued, his voice deepening to a dark whisper.

"Oh I know who you are, little shadow keeper. And trust me, the likes of you aren't enough to match a Shade."

His eyes met hers then and she snarled when she found the band that once adorned his arm in her hands, his cursive tattoo glowing silver. He backed up into the shadows, her dominion, as the wind carried a whisper back at her, "Dmitri."

He wasn't as fast or as smooth as her. That was her home, her shadows. She rammed her fist full force into his stomach, knocking the air clean out of his lungs. He doubled over, giving her access to his cleanly exposed neck. She raised the knife, thumb slipping into place in the grooves. Her mark was on him in seconds.

"That's a warning, Shade. You're crossing boundaries. This is my territory. Stay far away from the shadows."

After shoving him to the ground, she left him still gasping for breath as he clutched his neck, which was quickly turning black as the shadows entered him. It was cruel, letting the shadows claim him before his soul had left. She'd never left a mark on a live target before, she'd always been merciful. But not this time. She left him surrounded in her darkness, his mere existence fading from her subconscious.

She didn't hear him following her, that day or the next. He kept to the dark, his armband covered completely. The mark on his neck pulsated, and he could feel her heart beat alongside his own. It was as if he possessed two, and his connection to her would come in handy, he knew.

Dmitri was lying on his stomach, messing with the scar on his neck, her mark, when he sensed her excitement and her raised energy levels. She had come across a green, a filthy little prostitute. Her anger radiated throughout her body, her tattoo pulsing with each breath.

Siani raised her head, and laughed bitterly, "You think I'm scum? You think I'm the dirt of this earth? Look at yourself. You whore yourself out to anything that moves. I'm a shadow keeper. I fight to live. I'm a someone. People whisper my name in fear; you don't even have one to be screamed. You're nothing, you have nothing. You've been used, that's all your poor weak life is. A desperate wish for something more. You're pathetic, and you don't deserve to walk among the branded."

Siani lunged arms outstretched towards the green, ready to tear her apart.

The strangled plea was soft, but Siani heard it. The green was asking for mercy.

Laughter from the side of the building interrupted Siani and she turned. Her eyes narrowed at Dmitri, his arms crossed in a leisurely position across his chest.

He turned to face the green, terror still evident in her eyes.

"Begging mercy from a shadow, are you? Let me ask you something... didn't your mother ever tell you?" He looked the green dead in the eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as he continued, "Mercy is not given to those who beg. Mercy is for the weak. The weak give and the weak receive it."

Siani's hands felt the wisps of the prostitute's hair as she fell, Dmitri's dagger snug in her ribcage. Her heart beat quickly, the shadows streaming from her armband. She looked down; the green's body lay at her feet, the girl's eyes empty and staring.

Uneasiness filled her and she met his eyes. He smirked at her, antagonizing her. He had stolen her kill. She'd been beat, and Dmitri could feel that thought ripping her apart. Siani wasn't used to being second best. She'd always been alone.

The anger that filled her was incomparable to any other emotion she had ever felt. She lashed out viciously towards Dmitri. He moved in sync with her, countering her every move. She was clumsy and her rage rendered her blind. She understood now why the criminals and the murderers bore the red armbands. The two were linked, and she could sense him. She'd always been alone, and the connection was tearing her apart from the inside out. She danced among the shadows, becoming one with the darkness. She faded slowly, taking Dmitri in her wake. She was never meant to have him along. They become a single being, her shadows mixing with the blush in his cheeks and the life in his body. In the end, she was the cop, trapping Dmitri in the shadows. By marking him, she cursed him to the same end she was doomed to. She handcuffed him to her side for all eternity. Shade and Shadow became one.

She was everywhere, every corner and every doorway. The Watchers had condemned her to witness each sunny day but barred her from their warmth. She's in the shadows, she is the shadows. Count them, she'll be there, faithful companion at her side.