Penelope Winston a name she still after a few years was getting used to using. Yet it tied her to a life she could have had along with pushing past the life she once had. Well mostly, she still carried her thirst for revenge for Abraxas Bradford. The man that destroyed her family, before she even knew part of it. Now she was gifted with the task of being the Guardian of The Archives Hall, A hall that was a labyrinth with mythic items and books full of magic dark, light, and neutral. A hall you could get lost in and would trap you if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

While Penny lived in the hall she didn’t spend all of her time there. That evening was one of the ones she chose to go out and explore Evermore wanting to take in the new shops that popped up every now and then. As she pulled her light coat around her the fall weather taking over the city in a beautiful manner. She took a deep breath as her jade green eyes ran along the store front, pausing in front of Diviner Intervention, waving at Bexley though the window. In the reflection of the window she saw the face that haunted her dreams.

She turned on her heel to catch the man turning the corner, she was across the street the cars blaring their horns at her as she gave them the bird before reaching the other side of the street. Making her way around the corner the dark of night upon them, she pushed through the evening crowd that bussled along the sidewalks as her eyes stayed fixed upon the back of his head. She felt the heat on her chest as she thought about how she was going to end his life just how he ended her mothers.

She wasn’t sure how long she had followed the man as he turned into Poison a Valkyr owed pleasure house. Of course Abraxas would find himself here. She thought to herself as she made her way through the door. Looking around Poison Penny felt out of place, she was a free spirit herself but she had never engaged in sexual activity. Her life had been a busy one, she hadn’t really had a moment to think about sex. Now here she was standing in the middle of a Pleasure house ready to find Abraxas to plunge a dagger in his heart.

She walked to the elegant desk and smiled, “Hi I am looking for a man with dark hair and striking blue eyes.” she could tell magic ran through the Pleasure house. “A nephilim male.” she said as she smiled to her.

“We have one male who offers his services here that fits that.” The girl said taking what she needed from Penny before leading her to the room and opened the door for her. “He will be with you shortly, have fun.” She said.

Penny looked around the room moving to the bed, waving her hand to open a portal between her and the hall grabbing her dagger from the portal and tucking it in her boot she sat down on the bed and waited for Abraxas to come into the room.

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The day had dragged by, filled with business meetings and telephone conferences that seemed to drone on with no real end or solution. These days it took everything Jonathan had to pull himself out of bed and go to work. At least with his day job that was the case, not so much with his new night job. The male didn’t even really consider his antics at Poison a job, it was more a hobby that enabled him to release some of the pent up emotions he kept bottled up. Alcohol wasn’t going to do it and neither was drugs, he couldn’t exactly join a boxing gym or a fight club with his enhancements so sex was his only remaining option. He hadn’t set out to find that outlet, more as he had wandered into it and with Nadiya’s help, he was managing his grief.

Barely.

Once back home the Nephilim changed clothes, ditching the business attire and opting for something more casual with denim jeans and a short sleeve polo. With any luck, he would get a couple clients and have himself sufficiently worn out by dawn. Sliding on a leather jacket he hit the street, hands tucked inside his pockets as he walked through the downtown thoroughfare heading past the business district to the quieter and more shadowed part of the intercity workings. Poison was tucked away in a nook between buildings, known if one knew where to look and yet secluded so as to avoid attention.

He took the main entrance, waving to the girls as he headed to the back to hang up his jacket. No sooner had he pulled on a black long sleeve that hugged every muscle Tilly came to the back to tell him he had a client. Grinning he thanked her, rolling up his sleeves to the elbows and plugging his feet into a pair of loafers and completing the ensemble with a pair of fake glasses. The ladies loved the ritzy looked with a bit of a dangerous edge, the look had been carefully cultivated by the girls and was a hit every night. It all fed into his Poison persona and on that never ceased to please.

Dressed and ready to go Jon headed to the lavender room, walking in with a crooked grin on his lips. "Evening my darling. I'm so glad you could make time to meet with me, as I have to finish this article before the deadline. The names Clark Kent, and you would be?" Playing a little with his usual dialogue he set the stage, himself reprising mild-mannered Clark Kent scheduled to meet with a secret source for an article and the client could take the role-play anywhere she wanted for they both knew he was secretly Superman.

He was well built still from what she remembered of him from some time ago. As he walked into the dim room she felt the smirk pull on her face. After all she looked much different now that she was older. She was no longer rocking the black hair she had, had. Her makeup was simple and not gothic. She watched him speak the name of a classic movie hero. She wondered how he had ended up working here of all places. He was a crime lord, did someone manage to take him down? Oh it didn’t overly matter in this moment after all, she was going to get her revenge for her mother and the father she barely knew before meeting their end at Abraxas hands.

 She leaned her head to the side letting her long locks roll as she kept her face in the dark. “Well Mr. Kent I am not one for names.” She said as she pulled the chair she was sure was part of his props “Well not right away that is.” She said as she pushed the chair closer to him before picking up the handcuffs that where there.  “How about you sit down and we can talk about that source of information under my terms.” She only let her lips come into the light as she smiled. “After all I promise to make it worth your wild.”

She waited for him to sit in the chair as she moved around the edge of the room slowly. Her heels clicking on the ground before she walked behind him and she ran her hands down his arms slowly to his wrist. “Tell me Clark Kent was it?” she said as she pulled his wrist back locking them in handcuffs as she kept her mouth to his ear. Her hand waved placing a binding spell so he couldn’t break the cuffs no matter how hard he tried with his nephilim strength. Her magic grounded to the ground and the edge of the chair so it was fixed in one place. “How does it feel to know this is the day you are going to die?” She hissed out as she cast a spell around the room that would make it sound proof to those outside of the room along with the door being bond shut so no one could walk in.

She moved around the chair and pulled the blade from her boot and placed it under his chin to make him look to her. “You really haven’t aged a day have you Abraxas, and here I thought maybe the stress of being a crime lord killing whomever you pleased would get to you. My mistake.” She moved to sit in his lap as she ripped open the shirt and slid the blade down his chest to show she meant to torture him before finishing the job. “Do you even remember my name? Do you even remember my face?” She hissed lowly as she applied pressure to the blade cutting shallow slice into his chest. “Do I need to show you, you bastard?”

She remained cloaked in the shadows, either drawing out the mystery or taking time to get over her shyness. Coming into Poison was hard enough given the stigmas that surround the place, not to mention the taboo of the services they offered. He was generally good at setting people at ease though, drawing them so far into the narrative that they took on the persona of their character. Doing so enabled them to let go of their inhibitions and flow into the pleasure and fun of it all. That was Jon’s main goal, to enable his clients to enter a world that was purely enjoyable entertainment.

Quirking an eyebrow behind the glasses he couldn’t help but grin a bit wider, marveling at the angle she had chosen to take. Most of his clients like a more demure and partially scared persona, leaving him to be the strong hero that they gave into. This spin would be different and interesting for him, his body shifting as he moved to acquiesce to her request. “Whatever makes you the most comfortable and gets me the story. After all, that was our arrangement.” Ever the studious and truth-seeking report Clark would stop at nothing to get his information, making it easy to take a seat.

Stretching his long legs out in front of him the brunette male tracked her as she paced the perimeter until she slipped past his field of view behind him. Her voice was lovely, a husky sort of timbre that reminded him of silk sheets and fireside rendezvous. Still smiling as her hands ran down his arms the upturn of his lips dropped slightly as he felt the settling of steel on his wrists and his mind registered the next words that she spoke. The feeling of being confined mixed with the threat of death triggered a response in his brain, his PTSD blossoming inside his body.

Sweat broke out across his skin, while his heart picked up an unsteady rhythm that pounded in his chest. The lavender room wavered before his eyes, throwing him back into a white basement room filled with the scent of his blood and the sound of the Devil’s voice. Blinking rapidly as someone settled on his lap Jonathan struggled to register how anyone could be sitting on his lap while he was suspended from the ceiling. Wincing as a female voice mentioned the demon’s name his mind slammed him back into the present, vision wavering in his struggle to separate the past from the here and now.

Cobalt blue eyes looked up and into the face of the woman, a pained and tortured expression transfusing his features as she continued to speak. It had dawned on him that she had mistaken him for his sire, looked at him and instead of seeing who he was had believed that he was his worst nightmare. That realization devastated him, broke him down until he was once more back to being self-destructive and self-loathing. Try as he might he was still his father’s son, spawn of the Devil, and perhaps he was better off dead as well. When he looked right into her eyes he sucked in an unsteady breath, fighting tears that the memories threatened to spill, “Kill me. Take revenge and do us both a favor.”

Penelope's heart was pounding away in her chest as she thought through her actions though she didn’t plan on backing out. She may never forgive herself but Abraxas deserved death more than anyone she knew. The man in front of her made her stomach turn over in fear and anxiety. She could very well be overpowered by this man and he could end her family line for good. So the idea of tying up was to maybe give her an advantage, though she knew nephilims had super strength also. Though the fact he was really into the idea only made it clear he was the kind of man into bondage, though she would never take him to enjoy being the one bond. Her shot in the dark paid off.

So as she had tied him and found her way into his lap the blind rage inside of her taking hold of her body. This was the moment she would have her revenge for her mother and her father. She felt his body grow ridged as she whispered the threat of death into his ear. This was not the reaction she expected from the Devil himself. As she spoke the name Abraxas she felt his body slam about on the chair for a moment as if she had pulled him from a vision. Her emerald green eyes  held on to his blue ones for a moment as she watched him closely.

Was this all an act? Why was he not acting like the evil man she once knew. Actually begging for death itself. “No Dammit! You are to beg for your life! You are to beg and feel helpless like you did to me! You murdered my mother! You rammed a knife into my back as I saved my father from your wrath! You took both my parents from me and I couldn’t do anything about it but be helpless and cry because I became truly alone! You took everything from me! You don’t get to accept death quickly.” Penelope hand reared back and came across Jon face in a slap as tears rolled from her eyes.

“Fuck you Abraxas.” She moved over to the light switch filling the rather dark room with bright light so she could fully reveal her face so maybe he would feel something. As she walked back around him taking in his full face she paused. While he looked almost identical to Abraxas there was a difference, his eyes were not evil. She found herself shattering to the ground as she stared at him, He also didn’t have the ugly scar along his jaw that Abraxas used to have. “Who are you and why do you look so much like that Devil. The weight of her mistake and the fact she could have killed an innocent man.

She felt her shoulders hang in defeat that she let her anger and revenge drive her. Waving her hand undoing the cuffs she had locked him up with. Her head hung as she searched the floor for a moment. “I would ask you not to call the cops but it's your right to do so. I won’t fight. I’m… I’m sorry you just look so much like the man who took my world from me and I have wanted revenge for so long but I never wanted to hurt an innocent person. I have never felt such shame. I have no words.”

Jonathan couldn’t look away from her, the way her facial expressions chased one another across her features as if fighting for supremacy. Anger, frustration, confusion, and then indignation all registered to him before she burst out with what he was supposed to be reacting to his current situation. It had thrown her off, his response to her threat of death. Though he couldn’t really be blamed given the fact that he, in fact, wasn’t his father. She didn’t know that however, as to her they were one and the same. Her story came spilling out of her mouth in a torrent of torment further shatter his heart, leaving what little was left of his whole self broken and empty. Abraxas had been a monster in every sense of the word, a terror upon the world leaving nothing but death and destruction in his wake. Even in his final moments, he had managed to take still more life, exploding a crater in the middle of his remaining children’s lives.

She moved then, cursing his sire’s name right before flooding the room with light. The Nephilim flinched, turning his head away from the bright glare and away from the luminescence that left him to feel exposed and vulnerable. Sensing her in front of him the male blinked open his eyes and looked up, for all his mutilated self he still wanted to face death head-on. Unfortunately, it seemed the sweet release of death would not come to him today, as she stared at him some realization must have come over her recognizing that while Jonathan looked much like his father there were marked differences. His cobalt blue eyes looked on as she sank to the floor, all of her earlier bluster and venom leaked out of her like air from a balloon.

Swallowing hard Jon looked down at his lap, seemingly oblivious to still being tied to the chair. “Abraxas was my father,” he whispered, his throat clogged with so much emotion. Saying those four simple words took so much from him, his soul aching to the point of his body reacting with constant shivers that wracked his tall frame. Drawing in a ragged breath he looked up once more, at the lovely young woman who had in one minute promised to free him from his anguish and now seemed to have sunk into her own realm of demons. “I am Jonathan Bradford.” Was that really who he was still? That name and identity used to mean everything to him, giving him purpose and a reason to wake up each morning. Without the purpose and knowing he had failed in all his endeavors, in his life’s mission, who was he really?

She spoke then, apologizing and assuring him that he had every right to involve the authorities though in truth that hadn’t ever crossed his mind. “Relax, the last thing I want is the police sniffing around.” He muttered, finally deciding that the ropes binding him in place needed to come off. The Nephilim broke them without much effort, rubbing his wrists as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. “While I understand your thirst for revenge I can tell you unequivocally that Abraxas is dead.” His tone was just as dead, speaking the truth plainly and without emotion. “He caused much destruction for many people but none more so than his own offspring. In the end, he took two with him and left what is left of the other two behind on his way to hell.”

Jonathan was sorry for what the woman had been forced to endure at the hands of the man who was his father, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry that her want for revenge would never come to fruition. Abraxas was dead and had anyone else killed him, had Jon not been the one to rip his heart from his chest and remove his head from his body the male might not have believed it. He had even sat and watched the body burn until the bones had disintegrated into so much ash.

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