Different Kind of Venom

Chapter I

She traveled through the hot summer night, her massive white wings carrying her throughout the woods in an inhuman speed. She used the red markers she had put on the trees along her track, along with the stars — only visible because of her advanced eyesight — to get to the human road.

This path was all too familiar; once she was at the road, she used her wings to swerve and go parallel to it, around five feet far and in the woods. It was a technique she often used in order to keep track of her path. She avoided using too much markers for humans to get inquisitive.

Medusa felt her clothed feet skip along the dirt, one step on the ground and the next flying off it. She felt comfort listening to the ruffle of her feathered wings against the air. It may have been somewhat hard to use them between the trees, but she had picked her running/flying spots wisely. She kept her pace as the road taking her east turned from that of dirt to that of cement to that of tar. The cars (a relatively new human invention) were getting more frequent now.

The gorgon slowed her pace when she was in the proximity of one of the most populated cities she had ever know. Boston. She knew that because where she now stood, she saw a blue metal sign with white letters on it. She has memorized what it said by heart: 'Welcome to Boston'.

Medusa has started learning English about two and a half centuries ago back when she lived in London. It was a hungry place back then, crimes were easy, people were desperate, men were oh so starved for a pretty woman to show them a good time - especially if it were for free. It was mostly easy for her to hunt victims and lure them it. It was a shame, however, that she had to break their statues; she had a tendency to keep those. But, she didn't want anyone stumbling into them. That would be bad.

The gorgon stopped moving. She took a moment to take the clothes out of her backpack(was anything really hers? She was just a surprisingly good thief). She pulled out the old gray skirt that flowed to her knee, followed by a plain blue T-shirt (she had taken the time to rip at the back's center: just enough for her fit her wings). After putting them on, she threw on her usual old brown cloak; it only served to suffocate her wings and make her look like a hunchback, but that was the only option other than flaunting out her wings — which wasn't a real option.

What follows is the worst part: hiding her snakes. She used a veil to do so; it generally wasn't so hard, but the protests of her dear friends were. It required a lot of convincing, arguing and bickering (plus a few soothing whispered tunes she had learned from an old Indian friend), but she managed to cover them.

Her usual aim was the "ghettos" of the city; past the uptown with its arrogant faces and expensive cars, past clubs and drunkards — all the way to the alleyways and thieves. She tried her best to become one with the shadows of the city; she dodged direct light and stepped out of pedestrians' way. 

One specific alley caught her eye. There were two boys. One pinning the other to the wall in rough shoves, his forearm was pressed to his throat. She stopped, still near-invisible at the corner. She contemplated her options; she can save the kid by damning the mugger, or she can damn them both and stay sated for a bit over a week. She decided on the latter. Why should she care anyways? She was to damn someone eventually.

"Hello, young fellows," she resisted the smirk that was soon to appear as both boys looked at her with disgust. Said disgust soon turned to awe as she straightened her back and took off that brown old rag off her back while stepping into the light.

"I can make you both very happy men." The magic sultry in her voice was obvious. Her snakes being hidden wouldn't stop the immortal seduction in her beautiful eyes and and pure skin and feminine face.

"Oh man. I'm down, girl." It was the thief who had responded first. His poor, unknowing face twisted into a smirk as hunger brightened blue eyes. The thief had long forgotten his victim. And the victim, the thief. They were both her victims now. And Medusa always took her time studying her victims.

The thief was taller and broader. He wore chains on dark blue ripped jeans, paired with a neon green sleeveless jacket over a white flannel. His ruffled wavy blonde hair reached his stark jawline. The second boy wore similar fashion, but he had darker skin and a shaved head. They were both fairly attractive — had they not been food.

She loved this. The attention her victims gave her. The lust. The want. It was the only way she was wanted now, so she lathered in it.

"Which of you would want see me undress?" She snaked her way to the two, standing very close to each other. She reached both her hands to touch both their shoulders. She heard two breathes hitch. She continued as her not-so-subtle hands gradually found their way to the boys' groins, both hard and ready. The two kids were struck stupid by now. Unmoving.

She leaned forward to Blondie. Breathed out a false whimper in his ear and felt him twitch as his breathing continued to fasten. The other one let out a frustrated groan. She complied by facing him and using her forked tongue to tickle his ear. He shuddered, his knees buckling. Oh, how she loved their reactions!

A trembling brown-skinned hand caught Medusa's eye; it was moving towards her loose-clothed shoulder. She chuckled. This was almost new. She left the hand, moving her own to tip back the cloth and let it hang limp by her midriff. Now, her full left breast was on view. Medusa still had her left hand on his bulge so she felt what that did to him.

The brown boy's hand wandered to her nipple, but his eyes were vacant. It was that moment that it all stopped being 'fun'; when she glimpsed their vacant eyes and remembered that they do not want her, they want the illusion she gave them.

So, when Blondie approached his hand to her right shoulder, she just leaned back from the two. They tried to follow but she simply glared, reminding them of their place.

She forced an apologetic smile just the second before she loosened her veil allowing her trapped anxious vipers to spring free.

A millisecond of pain and horror showed in their faces as she sneered. Her vipers followed, jumping at them(limited by their attachment to her, of course).

She locked eyes with the two as the familiar granite color spread across their skin, refueling her own power and sating her instincts. She watched for a minute before she sighed, and covered her breast. She put the rest of her unused clothes(the veil and the coat) in her backpack.

Now Medusa had to carry them with her to her lair — as she likes to call it.

Certainly, two granite full-body statues are going to be heavy, and she cannot exactly walk the city with them. Medusa clutched a figure under each arm, spread her wings, and shot up into the sky.

It felt good to exercise this part of her body: the only truly beautiful part. And as she went deeper into Zeus's realm, she felt free. Even with the weight of the boys she just destroyed she felt free, and alone, unwatched, unafraid. She rarely ever felt that way; it made her thankful for her wings. She believed that without wings, she would have gone mad eons ago: trapped in a body like this one, alone and banished, immortal.

She continued vertically until no mortal on the ground below can see her, and she them; because if anyone saw her and followed her home, that would be a disaster(she knows; it had happened before). She batted her magnificently large wings at full force — the lights of Boston dwindling into the dark of the woods east-by.

Belchertown State School. An school for children of special needs. Was open in the last century and now closed due to the inhumane treatment of its patients. A perfect place Medusa had found. She had been using it ever since it was shut down; she found the place by bewitching some mortal, who turned out to be a former doctor here. She still had his statue. The wide land of grass surrounding the several buildings was the best part about it (aside from the location, which was a given). The buildings had no unique style: large, rectangular, covered in red bricks and only two floors high. The interior was a mess, though — not that Medusa cared for the rusted beds and broken windows and pieces of rotten bedcloth and nightgowns. 

Medusa landed on the roof and walked to its small door — or where it would have been, had she not removed it completely off its hinges.

She went inside and down the stairs leading to an old vast dining room (one of several) where she currently collected her statues. Her arms ached from the weight, so she was grateful to set the boys next to a man with a beard and a bald head. The man had been unbuckling his pants when she froze him, which still made her mildly uncomfortable but, oh well.

---A/N: the plot hasn't started yet, bear with me. *smiles*