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Topic: The Flower Journal
: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Tue Dec 18, 2012 10:24 am
The Flower Journal
Turns out, I don't actually have much to say for this. Expect these in no particular order, chronologically in terms of the journal or actual history. We'll see how far I get.
The elf who currently calls herself Ink sits on her couch and stares at the journal sitting on the side table next to her. The covering is a plain, deep blue faux leather, and two long ribbons, one black and one white, had been added to tie it shut. Drawing a deep breath, Ink picks up the book, unties it and opens it. A peony is pressed onto that very first page, and she strokes long fingers over it, taking a shaky breath before turning the page to the inscription. Surrounded by lovely pen and watercolor drawings of peonies, begonias, white carnations and tulips, violets and wisteria, is an inscription done in black.
I understand why you wont want to talk to Mom about what happened. I guess I also can see why you dont want to talk to Dad. So much that youre avoiding him. As much as it pains me to admit, I know why you wont talk to me. But you havent said a word about it to Charlie, and I know you feel responsible and that it weighs on you. Please dont try to deny that to me of all people, even when Im not there. Its just part of who you are.
Since you wont talk about it, I hope youll write about it. Holding that inside is hurting you, I can tell. So this is my gift to you, for when you wont or cant talk to me. Tell it the stories that hurt, and know that nothing you ever write in here will change that youre my sister and I love you. I will always forgive you, and I will always be there for you if you let me. I think that you chose the harder path, and I know you fear that your choice will drive us apart. I accept what you are and admire it as freely as you do me.
All my love forever,
With a sad smile, Ink kisses the tips of her fingers, tracing them gently over the delicate cursive and the border of flowers. Then, skipping to the first clean page, she takes up a fountain pen, takes a deep breath and begins to write.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Tue Dec 18, 2012 10:25 am
Entry #4 - Drip. Drop.
Date Edited:
Thu Jan 17, 2013 9:47 am (edits total: 2)
Edited By:
I cant get this out of my mind now that Ive remembered. So lets see if actually writing it helps at all.
He had surprised me, the fragging yono. I hadnt been watching my back, and especially not for him. A month ago wed sabotaged the business of one Sebastian Card. While it was a paying job, Id done it with pleasure. Card, among other things, dealt in exotic, metahuman merchandise. It rubbed me the wrong way always. If I got it into my head to do something about all of them, Id drive myself insane or wind up iced or worse very fast. Probably both.
But it was a paying job so I jumped on the chance. Out of the group, Id spent the most face time with him, but we thought wed gotten out without him knowing who got him. Otherwise I wouldve been more careful in his neck of the woods.
I felt someone grab me from behind, too fast for me to react. One hand lifted my chin and a needle stabbed into my neck. Its hyper, sweetheart, a familiar, smooth voice drawled into my ear. I hadnt needed him to tell me, I knew by the immediate sensitization of my nerves, the way the world jumped into overwhelming focus and clarity. A hard cylinder slammed into my ribs and fire and lightning raced along my nerves.
Drip. Drop.
The next thing I was truly aware of was the sound of a drip assaulting my ears, the uneven metronome of a sound maddening. I couldnt pinpoint it and on a drip the world started to spin, and then fell sideways with the next damp sound. No. Wait, it didnt fall sideways, I did.
Drip. Drop.
My shoulders hurt from the harsh tug of my wrists being held above me, and I flexed my hands, feeling the bite of plasteel restraints about my wrist. Modified, custom containment manacles incorporated into the wall. Hed said that with what I think was glee, but the details were too fuzzy.
Drip. Drop.
Where the frag was that drip coming from anyway? It made my already aching head twinge with pain at the monotony, and my thirst rage. Id kill for a drink, despite the immediate wave of nausea following the thought of putting anything into my mouth and attempting to swallow it.
Drip. Drop.
It would be easy to just shut my eyes and go to sleep, a part of me whispered. The world would stop dancing in front of my vision, my head would stop hurting, and the taste of blood would the taste of blood. It snapped me back to the present, and I could remember, not everything but flashes.
Struggling as he dragged me into the tiny room I now occupied.
The strike over my head after I nailed him in the nads that made my world spin and blood fill my mouth.
Squirming at the sound of sizzling plasteel as a restraint was heat-fused about my wrists.
The pinch of another needle and the immediate rush of wooziness.
And the clearest of all: staring into his bright green eyes as he held my chin up in a firm grasp. The smile he gave me was cruel and ice cold. Sweet little Vera, hed purred. Talented, pretty little thing arent you. You lost me a fortune, but youll still make me a pretty penny. I know all
of people who would pay handsomely for you."
I had to get out. Something inside me buckled and cried, and I struggled, my wrists starting to bleed. The sharp bite of pain helped focus me and drive away the haze of sedatives. The threat of this again drove me further to clarity and the stark realization: I would rather die. A sharp, ragged sound broke out of me, loud to my ears, but it must have been quiet enough since I didnt hear footsteps.
Despair bit at me, and I attempted to curl in on myself, the rings surrounding my wrists digging into the base of my palms.
Think Vera,
I mentally berated myself. All I had to do was think, but that was like grasping at smoke. They wouldnt realize I was missing until it was too late. No one would find me, and Id be lost on my own. Again. No, I whispered, my voice raspy and horrible. No, no nono. I twisted, the plasteel tearing my skin, and rolled back with a wince. Blood trickled down my forearms, slicking my hands. I stared at them, starting to hyperventilate. My thoughts were still sluggish and misty, but I saw one way out.
In my mind my fathers words echoed back, Take care of your hands, Vera-love. You need them for so much. If you damage your hands, you cannot hold a sword, a pencil. Your gestures when you dance will be wrong. Youll lose the ability to pick a pocket, or do any sleight of hand. People will stare and notice. It will damage your looks because we recognize faces and hands. I stared and swallowed, and raised my foot.
The exact sound my heavy boot made as it came slammed my wrist against the wall is lost to me. I remember the feeling though, the snap of bones and the grind of the shattered bits together, and I bit the inside of my cheek until it bled to keep from screaming. With that I jerked my hand from the manacle with one bright blaze of agony, thankful for the blood that slicked the way. Cradling my mangled hand to my chest I tried not to sob, and braced myself for the next one. It hurt like nothing else, and I edged towards blacking out, but the terror I wouldnt wake up again before a cranial bomb, or some other horrible thing, kept me clinging tenuously to consciousness.
I dont remember doing my right hand. But I bit through my lip. There I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and not seeing it at all. Both my hands curled against my chest protectively, and I simply gasped. Tears trickled down my cheeks silently and I panted, blinking away the hot, salty liquid. Careful to not use my hands, I rolled onto my stomach and stumbling, pushed myself up. The room spun again and I collapsed into a huddle on the floor, retching quietly as my tongue felt like it tired to choke me. Not good. I strained my ears and I could hear Sebastians low, cultured southern drawl as he talked, but couldnt make out the words. I didnt have long, if I were to guess.
I braced my forearm against the wall the second time I pushed to my feet, dizzy and disoriented I got my first look around. The room surrounding me suggested it might be part of a renovated warehouse, judging by the bare walls and general look. You get a feel for it, after awhile. Dim light poured in through the open door and I attempted a small smile, wincing as my lip split open again. Sebastian was a sick man I should know, Id let him take me out, and some things you just know after one dinner and hed left the door open to taunt me.
My first step was more of a stumble than an actual walk, my ankle threatening to turn and my knee uncertain of what position is really best. How I managed to walk, let alone without making an excessive amount of noise, is a still a mystery to me. Id been right about the warehouse, temporary dividers and walls, as well as stacks of boxes and workbenches had been set up, forming a sort of maze. Foot over foot, I walked and convinced myself that after each step, the next would be the last and I could rest. I never did, until I reached the one and only workbench that wasnt completely clean, with its drawers locked.
A weapon would be good. Ive always had a preference for kicks when Im unarmed, but at the time I was better with a weapon by far. Card also had a pain editor, my addled brain helpfully supplied. Must have been briefed on that, but at the time, I didnt even think to question it. I looked between the tools scattered on it, thinking them through as much as I could. That wrench would make a nice club, but no way my hands and wrists could manage . My vision swam, the colors blurring together violently and I reached out a hand, careful not to look at it, and grabbed a screwdriver. Forcing my damaged fingers around it, I clutched it like a talisman despite the pain or because of it. Each nip helped ward off the drugs, but at some point it wouldnt be enough. Time was running out, and I needed to be prepared in case Card or one of his employees did he have those anymore, I wondered - was between me and the door.
He was. Of course he was. Fates a cruel bitch and she was kicking me while I was down. Really kicking. I stood frozen where the labyrinth hed arranged opened into a larger room, a beautiful desk to one side, facing the open door where Card sat. Yes, I believe I can have her cleaned up and ready for pick up then. A pleasure doing business with you. I stared at the back of his head, trying to reconcile reality with the slanting motion of the world as it faded in and out with the fact I wasnt moving.
He stood and turned, eyes widening in momentary surprise as he caught sight of me. I couldnt help but noting once more that he was such a nondescript man, except for his eyes. Lovely eyes. A cruel smile quickly replaced the expression, and he drew a knife. Fate had decided that kicking wasnt enough, stabbing was in order. Vera, what are you doing up? he asked, his tone cold and sharpened with mockery. Sweetheart, you look like hell.
I caught a glimpse of myself in a window, and I really did. My right cheek was swollen, bruised and bloody, my lip swelling and split. Blood matted my hair cut short and layered black and red at that time, though the red was hard to see at that moment. I visibly favored my left side, some ribs probably broken from his early use of the stun baton. My pupils were blown up horribly, massive and uneven, and I looked as though I was going to pitch over at any second. I felt much worse. Sheer force of will kept me from catching a glimpse of my hands, I had spent the entire time dutifully not looking at them, and would be damned if that was when I did.
No way I would give Card the satisfaction of seeing me lose my drek, and I was pretty convinced that a good look would have me gibbering in a corner or succumbing completely to the drugs. I smiled, flinching slightly as my lip started to drip blood again, and rushed him, barely managing not to stumble over my feet. The fight is a blur, but I remember my goal was simple. Disarm him, kill him, call for help. The action of killing him was desperate, driven by terror and the simple need to escape. The thought of killing him later filled me with deep satisfaction. The man was going to sell me into slavery, and had drugged me not once, but twice. I was too fragged up to really notice the part of me that screamed and raged, that slavered after the thought of his blood. It may have escaped my notice then, but it was still there.
Cardd sliced my thigh before I managed to disarm him, kicking a cluster of nerves that made the knife clatter noisily to the ground. The cut was shallow, but it bled like nothing else, and the pain made my knee finally give out. It was easy for Card to force me to the ground from there, or I fell myself, I cant remember. Whatever the cause, I found myself on my back as he kneeled above me, casually compressing my throat with one hand, choking the life out of me. No, not the life, just my awareness.
The realization kept me from releasing my grip on that screwdriver to scrabble futilely at that hand. If my hands were right, and I werent drugged . If. If. If. All that was useless anyway. Instead, I stabbed the point of the tool into his side, crying out myself as the pain arced up my arm. Using my other, free hand, I grabbed his collar, yanking him down to drive the point of the screwdriver into one of those eyes.
Again, I think I may have blacked out for a moment, but it wouldnt have made much difference. I needed to call someone, the world had stopped just going in and out of focus, and was swinging from blurry to black, almost like the motion of an old-fashioned camera shutter with an out of focus view. Another one of those helpful thoughts entered my mind, pointing out there was a phone on his desk, and I, not bothering to stifle a sob, shoved his corpse off me and stumbled (sort of) to my feet. I made it two steps and then collapsed under the pressure of the drugs, the probable concussion, and the blood loss.
To make the conclusion short, my friends came and found me. Theyd tried calling my private, group only phone, and upon being unable to contact me repeatedly, had started hunting. My hands healed under the tender ministrations of our wiz biotech expert and a hired in mage. They never did let me see them until they got the bones fixed, but the superficial damage on my wrists was bad enough.
Im not sure writing about this helps, but a couple of days ago I was reminded of it and well Ive been carrying this book around for years. This is only the fourth time Ive used it and so much has happened that I dont know if I can even get it all down. Im not sure this does me any good still, but Neri wanted me to.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Wed Dec 19, 2012 6:50 am
Entry #7 - The Stolen Child
Ive noticed a couple of things. First, I really am carrying around a lot of drek. Life of a runner and all, so Im not really all that surprised. The tattoos do their job, I guess. Theyre a place to keep the memories close to my skin, but I think its good to keep some of them farther than that. A little distance cant really hurt sometimes.
Next, I think my sister was smarter than me. Hell, I know she was. Just another example of genes aint everything. However, I think she overlooked something. Putting only the bad drek, the things I never do want to talk about isnt great either. The last thing I need is for this book to get ideas and start, well, leaking. I had a crazy nightmare last night where the ink dripped off the paper and then poured down my throat, ten times worse than what it was before.
But this journal wasnt ever meant for happiness. Thats not the point. Neri knew that when she gave it to me, and I knew it too which is why I always hated this thing. This isnt even really a story, just a memory thats no longer happy, although it is from happier times.
The rain in New York City is pretty invariably toxic. Horrible drek that falls from the sky, but Neri always loved it. The few times and places we ever witnessed rain that wouldnt potentially melt our skin or give us cancer or something, my weird sister would spend the time cavorting in it. Dancing, playing, sometimes for hours. One time she got horribly sick afterwards and Mom flipped out, but it didnt stop her.
I sat perched in the empty window at the top floor of the abandoned building, watching the rain. The wide overhang of the roof meant that with the stillness of the air, not a drop would make it to where I was. Behind me, on crappy speakers played a piece from the ballet The Sleeping Beauty. The tenement had been abandoned in progress and the top floor was still bare wooden and steel beams and concrete, the entire space wide and open. The glass hadnt been put into the windows yet, and where it hadnt been torn out, heavy sheet plastic fluttered in the open, gaping places. Our little group, not a gang really, but close, had commandeered it. Graffiti ran here and there along the outer walls, and you could tell what was Neris work because it was beautiful as opposed to crude or painfully generic. Her least favorite medium and she could still create a work of art. Crates, boxes and their ilk formed a circle in the middle to provide makeshift furniture, some of them filled with small treasures.
The white satin ribbon of my pointe shoes slid through my fingers, smooth and shiny. I looked at the toe and sighed quietly, poking at the small hole developing in the fabric over the box. Soon Id need new ones, and the music clicked off. If you didnt pick, they would last longer, a sweet voice commented from behind me. Its a weird that I once knew exactly what I sounded like to everyone else. You hear your voice different than what other people do, but I knew exactly what mine was like: a soprano, dropping a little lower in register, as we hit thirteen, however, with a faint and exotic accent. It came from the blend of languages used in our home life, Chinese, Italian, English. I heard it every day from my twin.
I didnt have to look up or behind me to see my sister. Neri hopped up onto the ledge, balancing opposite me. She still wore shoes identical to my own, but in better condition she was gentler on them than me. We wore the same outfit, flesh-toned tights, and a black leotard and wrap skirt. Rather than go home wed come here after class, nominally to hang out with Charlie, Chip, Rydra and the rest. However, the rain had started early, and no one else was here.
I found this, my sister gushed, excitement illuminating her face as she handed a pocket secretary over to me. An article had been downloaded onto it and I skimmed it, barely paying attention except to note the beautifully rendered pieces of art featured in it. I wouldnt have to read it because Neri would fill me in on all the important details. Its amazing, Vera. Theyre paintings done by this artists way adept. They each can fill a room with the emotion they were made with, and they can hold peoples attention for upwards of thirty minutes. Half an hour Vera!
I watched as she waved animatedly, remaining perfectly poised on the windowsill with me. Not just that, theyre astrally active, says some of the comments on the article. They actually have their own aura and everything! Its one of the wizest things Ive ever heard of, Vera! Just imagine! I arched my eyebrow at my sister and said nothing, just allowing her to talk. Neri could see the astral long before me, it was one of her knacks. She was also far more sensitive than me at the time. I knew what she was talking about by proxy, but it never really clicked.
Turning out towards the window I watched the rain fall down into the deserted street below me. I listened to my sister talk of the paintings she could do with an ability like that. She speculated over whether or not it would translate into the performing arts. This led to raptures about the concept of a lullaby that could literally soothe an entire room, a dance that was a pure expression of love and passion.
At that I burst into laughter and looked back at Neri with a smile. She blushed, the tips of her ears turning red too, since she knew exactly what I was thinking. Oh Neri, you dont want to inspire passion in an audience like that. Itd lead to a riot. Or an orgy. Probably both. It hadnt needed to be said, but I couldnt resist, especially when she protested with a loud Vera! We stared at each other for a moment, and then burst into laughter. She might have been my twin, but she was still my sister and we couldnt help but tease sometimes.
As the laughter died between us, I smiled, asking gently, So youve found a new dream, havent you? At this Neri nodded vehemently, hard enough that a couple strands of black hair escaped the bun at the back of her hair. I dropped my shoes to the floor and leaned forward, taking my sisters hands in mine, squeezing her fingers gently. It sounds beautiful. Far more worthy than anything I want to do.
Thats not true Vera, she began and I cut her off with a shake of my head. I wasnt ashamed of my path, even then. It was my choice, a necessity in my life, even at the age of thirteen. Still, warriors way is a path of destruction, one way or another. We have our codes, some of us, and our different flavors but that doesnt change what we are. Artists create, and I could do that too, but not the same way as Neri. Instead, I elevated destruction to an art form and was too young to have grown into it and bring the maturity of an adult to it. Being powerful and young is a difficult thing. I knew that then. I also knew one other very important thing: I would use my path to protect my sweet, gentle sister so she could create beautiful things to her hearts content and show them to the world.
Her lips thinned in displeasure and she squeezed my fingers back, saying very seriously, You know I disagree. We sat there for a couple minutes, listening to the rain and staring into each others eyes. Its hard to describe the connection we had. It went bone deep, soul deep, and even deeper. People have talked about mystic connections between twins for eons, but most people will never really understand. It was so easy to be together and at that moment we didnt have to say anything at all.
Finally she smiled and raised one eyebrow. So does this mean I can convince you to practice with me? I released her hands with a quiet groan and pressed them against my eyes. I knew exactly what she wanted, and it wasnt as though I hated singing so much as I didnt find it nearly as amusing as some things. I peeked through my fingers to see her carefully beseeching expression. Theres only so much I could do against that, and I used the same look on her to great effect.
So we sang together, our voices twining and blending perfectly. Wed been singing together since forever, and that meant perfect harmonies, easy and flawless except for tiny missteps here and there that were mostly mine. A little bit of peace surrounded us, private, unique and distinctly ours. There are some magics in the world that have nothing to do with mana. Fireflies, a smile thats a pure expression of love, a perfectly executed dance solo, just to name a few, and this was one of them for me. For all I know, it could have been actual magic, but I never asked Neri. At the time I was too arrogant or perhaps ignorant to understand the gift or to appreciate it in full. Neri chose the songs and she had odd tastes to say the least, and most of them were twencen or earlier. One in particular sticks in my mind: The Stolen Child. Originally a poem by Yeats and set to music much later, its a beautiful poem and a beautiful song. But melodramatic as it is, I can only really remember singing one line whenever I look back on this moment.
For the world is more full of weeping than you can understand.
We stayed there until the rain lessened and then stopped, and we finally heard footsteps below us, loud voices echoing up with ribald jokes and laughter. Charlie peeked up over the ledge of the staircase and grinned. Thought I heard ytwo, he called and walked over to us, pulling me from the window sill to clasp me in a hug and twirl me. Sounded lovely, ladies. Rydra and Chip followed him up, greeting Neri and then me, once my feet had been reunited with the ground.
We greeted them, Neri and I, with laughter and hugs that were only acceptable because we were the two girly girls, not that anyone would say that to my face. Rydra may have been female but she was slightly older, hard, tom boyish and utterly butch. Feminine didnt come into the picture there. It was easy to sit around, setting up some portable lamps for light and also lighting a fire. More people filtered in, now that the sky wasnt pouring toxic liquid.
I curled up against Charlie, one of his big arms wrapped over me, and watched my sister laugh and talk across the way. All of us were street trash or only a step away. Well, Neri and I werent exactly, except for our close association with the group which made us trash by proxy. Mom hated it, she wanted us to grow up and be so many things, but certainly not gutterpunks. She overlooked that no matter what we were proles so what did it really matter? Except that our magic could have bought us out. However, wed chosen our friends and once that was made, we werent going to just change our mind or give up. It was still funny, however, that when Rydra noticed that Neri was still wearing her pointe shoes and demanded a dance, everyone joined in with catcalls and playful cajoling. Street trash maybe, but no other gutterpunks knew and loved ballet like this group. My sister could make anyone love it though.
Neri had laughed and sprang lightly to her feet. The music was provided, and I watched her finally perform the solo she had worked on privately for weeks, letting nobody but me watch. It wasnt perfect, Id seen trid recordings of it done perfect, but she was just thirteen and it was amazing. When she was older, I knew that she would be better than the recordings. Charlie bumped his forehead against the side of my head, kissing my hair lightly and whispered to me, Yshould be more careful when its jus the two of y-oof. The huff of air might have been caused by my elbow contacting his ribs hard, but invisible to everyone else.
I didnt say anything in response and simply watched my sister while trying to keep the annoyed expression off my face. Charlie didnt need to tell me drek about it, and I knew that someone would have to come up into the building for them to hear us so what did it matter? Shes too good fus, he murmured quietly to me as we watched Neris almost flawless pointe work. She doesn belong here.
It was true. I belonged where I was with the rough and tumble group, but Neri really didnt. She adored them and was welcome and beloved, but she didnt fit right like a sapphire in among false gems. If Neri wanted, she could easily get herself a wealthy patron, a SIN, a scholarship, a real life outside of here. Any and all of that. But she didnt seem to care, or the enormity didnt occur to her. A highly unlikely occurrence, but still a possibility.
With Neris elegant finish, a scattering of applause and the mandatory catcalls rippled through the group, and an encore was summarily demanded. I got pulled into this one, and we performed a piece Neri had composed, not in ballet this time, but a later form of concert dance from late twencen. If singing with her was magic, then dancing with her is beyond my powers of explanation. More than magic, more than life. Warrior I am, but at that moment I could pretend to be near as good as my sister.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Fri Dec 21, 2012 1:57 am
Entry #18 On Stomachs, Situation Predicting Powers of
This ones a doozy.
Julie! Oy! Julie! a voice called after me as I walked out of my favorite club in Denver. I ignored it, lifting the hood of my jacket up over my head, crushing the short mohawk Id styled my hair into, and turning my collar up against the cold. It was raining again, but it did that a lot. I left the main bustle outside the doors, turning down a side street and into a dark alley.
Footsteps followed me and I slid my hand smoothly down my leg, catching my skirt up and drawing the knife strapped to my thigh. Nobody had called me Julie since Vegas, and anyone I gave half a frag about from Vegas knew I was no longer using that name. Deciding to be Juliet had been a stupid plan, anyway. It didnt fit. As much as I didnt want to admit, the name my Romeo had given me was much more fitting. (My, that was a little bitter, wasnt it? Oh well. Water under the fragging bridge.) Thats why anyone who knew well enough called me Ink. The light weight of the blade in my hand comforted me and I hid it in my sleeve. My pace slowed, just a little.
Julie, its Rich, a hand caught my sleeve and I whirled, bearing the slightly larger form against the wall of the narrow alley, the short scuffle splashing dirty water up about me. Lovely. Christ! Juliet! Its me! Holding him with a forearm braced over his chest and neck, and the knife in my other hand clearly visible, I got my first good look. Frag it all I knew him, and really wished I didnt. My vaguely disgusted look must have said everything as I pulled away. I flicked water from the pale blade of my knife and sheathed it. Awww, cmon Julie, we were buds, werent we?
The faint, slightly panicked edge to that question made warning bells start to scream in my brain. In Vegas Id mostly been flying solo, which wasnt how I preferred. There was a crew there that I worked with a fair bit, but despite the introduction by some friends in Dallas, I didnt really mesh and I took a lot of jobs all on my lonesome. If things really went sour for me, theyd help me out, but when things did, I didnt drag them in cause I did it to myself. I mayve been looking for a permanent out for some of my life, but that didnt mean Id wanted to take other people with me.
So Id met Rich on a job. He had the amazing ability to grind my nerves into dust and make me want to stab him. He also was good at finding things out about people, which made him even more insufferable. My gut told me that he was here looking for me, and that made my stomach lurch and get unhappy, just thinking about it. Whaddaya want, Rich? I asked.
I dont know about other people, but I always try to listen to my stomach. It digests my food, gives me energy, and also provides some valuable insight. What with my metabolism, on top of the glandular and symbiotic implants, when I stop thinking that food would be a great idea Im either using some magic or things have gone terribly wrong. Ive also learned that when my stomach feels shivery, like it might want to cuddle up against my pancreas for warmth, things are probably about to not be to my liking. When it feels like my stomachs trying to crawl up through my diaphragm to make friends with my lungs and heart, dreks about to hit the fan and I should start thinking about hitting the floor. Metaphorically or literally.
I need some help, Jul. Theres this job At that moment, I wouldve rated it just a little bit above pancreatic cuddling. At least my pancreas would get some love out of this. Look, I dont wanna talk about this out in the rain, and Ive got a place not too far from here. Ill fix you a drink. And there went my stomach, trying to find the best route through a sheet of muscle. I mustve given him a slightly skeptical look, because he gave me a wide grin. Cmon, please Julie?
I was good in a fight, and had some other nice skills, but it wouldnt be worth coming to Denver for me. Rich was good at collecting information, but he didnt play well enough to pull one over on me. So I had a choice, did I go with him, which was risky but could garner me some information (namely who, but I already had an idea), or dispatch him now? Blowing him off would be the third option, but I discarded that quickly enough. Knowledge is power, after all.
With a long-suffering sigh I finally nodded my consent. Okay, les get then. My stomach really hated me at that moment, and made it known for the several block walk. Rich didnt shut up the entire time, chattering at length about why he was in Denver. The man never did learn shut his screamer. It was a crappy apartment in a dingy pay by the week, no questions asked complex. Pre-furnished too and with nothing tasteful, surprise surprise. The only thing of note was a rather lovely desk that stood in the main room. I guessed it was probably real wood, and the executives chair behind it looked pretentious, especially in a drekhole like this. Two less impressive but still cushy looking arm chairs sat before the desk. Heh, someone had delusions of grandeur.
I almost immediately excused myself to the bathroom, with a point to my rain-smeared eyeliner and the declaration that I needed to clean the frag up. There I pulled out my pocket secretary and sent Bones the address, along with a brief message to come now. As an afterthought I added that she ought to bring some guns and some tranqs. I probably didnt even need to tell her that, Bones always had it taken care of. Two swipes of my fingers and a little bit of water took care of the eyeliner problem, and I went out to go see Rich.
I settled down into the seat opposite his desk and as he handed me the drink, Rich was all smiles. My stomach promptly flattened itself against my diaphragm. Mayday mayday Id made a tactical error. The real question at the time was whether he was the sort of man whod roofie a young woman. I didnt even need to finish asking myself that question before I knew the answer. Without question he would. Taking my time I studied the amber liquor, inhaling its aroma and doing rapid calculations in my mind. Top shelf tequila, my absolute favorite, a fact that has been a matter of common knowledge since I was about fifteen. If I didnt drink it, it would be out of character and the man would probably shoot me. He always did like to have a pistol close at hand, and silly me I brought a knife to a gun fight. If I did drink it, I had no idea what hed put into it and how long would I have before Bones showed up with the cavalry? Would I be able to purge in time for it not to spin me around the bend?
A lot of drugs are boasted to be tasteless and odorless, but I love and know my tequila. I also know my drugs. Raising the glass to my lips I took a tiny sip under the guise of a connoisseur tasting the goods laid out in front of her. I rolled the bare trace of liquid over my tongue, trying to decide what hed put in when I heard Rich sigh. Hed been being polite, waiting for me to drink and get settled before getting on to biz. Aw, Christ, you know, dont you, he said and before I could react, raised a pistol from his lap and squeezed the trigger at the same time that I tried to throw myself from my seat, twisting slightly to do so. I had hesitated just too long and lost my window of opportunity.
The clickpop of the suppressed gun coincided perfectly with the impact to my left side that spun me back into the chair.
Called it,
I thought numbly, the glass spilling out of my nerveless fingers to clatter to the floor. I clapped my hands over the wound in my left side, doing my best to staunch the bleeding. For a couple long moments I didnt say anything, warring with shock and racing to self-diagnosis the injury. My stomach really hated me since the bullet had been meant for it, but the shot hadnt hit me dead on and my ribs did their job and got the worst of it, deflecting the bullet before it hit something really important like a lung. All in all, I concluded I had a fractured rib and a nasty graze from which a surprisingly large amount of blood flowed, but Id be walking away from this so long as Rich didnt shoot me again.
Luckily, he didnt know hed missed. So, Juliet, lets have your knife, he demanded, keeping the gun trained on me with a certain nonchalant ease as if the asshole did this every day. He probably did, actually, but this is my story so Ill tell it how I like. I made a show of rearranging my hands to keep applying pressure so that my blood would stay in me while in practice I smeared the blood flowing from my side around, disguising the wound further. I drew the knife at my thigh and briefly pondered whether I could get a good throw in before he could shoot me and abandoned that idea, tossing it away from me with a disgusted grimace. All of them, Julie. Im not a bitbrain and I know you have more then one. I followed it by pulling the weapons out of the tops of my knee high, stiletto heeled boots. The other short knife, the stiletto, hell, I even grabbed the telescoping baton I kept there and they joined the other knife.
Without letting the pistol waver at all, he collected my weapons and stuck them into a drawer in his desk. Then, much to my confusion Rich came and sat in the chair beside me. He lounged there, but the pistol still stared at me intimidatingly and the fix he had never once wavered. Something told me the man had a smartlink. Joy. Why couldnt you have taken the drink like a good girl? Then I wouldnt have to deal with the clean up, he sighed with a small shake of his head, his eyes never leaving mine. I am sorry about this, its nothing personal, but you really screwed the pooch back in Vegas, Juliet, you know that?
I let a low groan escape me and spat in disgust. My saliva was red tinged and I had to ask myself why, my tongue probing at my cheek curiously. Cheek bitten when he shot me, I figured. Ah, well, I could only hope that it would help sell my wounded bird routine. Dammit, threason yaint shot me gain is cause yhave a deep hankerin ttalk? Why does it matter? I carefully controlled my voice so I didnt sound like I could actually get up and do anything about it; rather, I sounded like I was blowing a bunch of solar wind. It wasnt all that hard given that the bastard
He gave me a drek-eating grin and shrugged. Im curious, and information is worth something. I liked Parvati. She was funny and interesting, on top of doing her job really well. You could always count on her to come through, and she made a mean curry. What happened to her was a real shame, he told me. As if I needed him to tell me that. I hated it when people felt the need to lecture me on drek I already knew, especially when I was bleeding. But its a hazard of the life, we all know that. Then
came in. I heard bout what you did, and man I didnt know you had it in you.
One of his eyebrows raised in response to something he saw in my face. You didnt know you had it in you either, mmm? It was a little sick, some of the things that happened to them. I mean, cmon, you
a guy to the ground with a crowbar. A fraggin crowbar, Juliet! Who
that? Then you popped some nails into his hands and feet, sliced him up and left him there. They told me that he chewed his tongue out and drowned on his blood, eventually. I couldnt help the grim smile I flashed him. Things were on their way to getting too hot for me so I left Vegas before I really knew what happened to most of them besides that they were dead. Its good to know when your works really complete, sometimes. Id originally been hoping for feral dogs to come and finish him off, but hey, if he killed himself that way, why not?
Rich smiled in return, still holding my eyes with his, and leaned a little closer to me. I really wanted to watch his gun, but it remained where it was, aimed right at me. Youre pleased about it, he declared slowly, tone ever so slightly surprised. Which is fascinating because youve never seemed cruel. A little bloodthirsty, yeah, but Ive seen ykill. Youre not the cruel type . My expression made him nod in satisfaction, leaning slightly back as he marveled at his own genius. So you arent then. Then what drives a girl like you to that, Juliet? With a rush of terror, the first Id felt of the night, I realized that the bastard was cold reading me to great effect. Ice trailed down my spine, a sharp contrast to the fire along my side, and my stomach, at that moment, abruptly ceased to have any comments on the situation at all.
Those hazel eyes sharpened and he smiled slowly, the expression cruel and mildly amused. Rich leaned further back, the pistol trailing further out of my reach. Dammit all. Now you get it, dont you? You dont make any bones about the fact that you dont like gangers, and you know, Ive seen you go up against some. Youre definitely take no prisoners, but you still just used a baton. Most of them limped away from it without any real permanent damage So, Im going to go out on a limb here and say that it was something they did. I mean, I heard what happened, and whooowheee, they did a number on Parvati before geeking her. Thought that she was holding out on them, didnt they. My jaw clenched involuntarily and I knew Id just given the answer away to that one.
Alright, so thats some of it, but chica, that was a
of rage. So it wasnt just that, was it? Youve spent some time in Z-Zones and well His eyes trailed down my body with an expression that made me feel as though someone had just covered me in slime and the barrel of the pistol actually dipped, following his gaze. When staring down a barrel of a gun, I always feel a little naked. I hadnt exactly dressed for dealing with guns this evening and beneath my light hoodie and leather jacket I was wearing a flowing, diaphanous shirt over a tight burgundy corset (that I was currently bleeding all over) and a miniskirt along with boots that would do a dominatrix proud. My lack of armor and the way Rich was eyeing me up made me long to go hunting for more substantial clothing and a laser axe. His body would look much better without a head. Or was it that his head would look better without a body? Nobody really likes elves and youre a sweet piece of ass. Id hate to think of what some gangbangers would do to you. How had I missed that he was apparently a really sick fragger and at least a little whacked?
In my mind I fantasized about clawing Richs eyeballs out as he smiled at me again. Tsk tsk, he clicked his tongue and shook his head a little. No need to glare at me like that, Juliet. Im just saying. His grip on the handgun was relaxing and I slumped back into the chair, hands still pressed over my side. I needed him closer and more relaxed, more at ease as he pretty much gloated over me. The fact that I hadnt moved was making him overly secure. The fact that I was still bleeding fairly profusely, look, Id been shot. It mayve not been as serious as it could have been, but I wasnt exactly doing completely frosty. I dont even know why I feel the need to defend myself to a fragging book.
Rich continued to speak, with long stops and starts as his attention fixed on my face, growing more and more intent on puzzling out my facial expressions. At least my clever ploy of sitting there bleeding was working to distract him. Frag me. But its more than that, isnt it? There was someone else Someone who you felt responsible for too. A lover? No . A family member then. Let me see, a sister or someone less closely related to you? A sister it is. Older or younger? He hesitated longer here, unable to puzzle out what my answer had been. Younger then, Rich finally decided, although he sounded none too confident. So someone hurt her and shes never been the same? ouch, by that look Im guessing reconfiged. No wonder youve got a hard on for gangers. He gave me a look of sympathy that was more mockery than anything else.
I was going to kill him. That was a given to start with, but my stomach had come back with vengeance and had dropped straight down, deciding that now was the time to try to hang out with my toes. I felt empty and full of the shakes, desperately in need of a hit of anything. The throbbing in my side didnt help with this at all. Of course, way of the world and all, but you know that no amount of blood shed will bring her back, right? Hurting them wont make it better, and youre really not that kind of girl, right Juliet?
Its such a shame, honestly. Youre young still, around twenty-two is it? No? I know its hard to tell with your type, but older? No, younger then. Twenty? Younger than that? Christ, youre a baby still, arent you? He looked almost disturbed at that revelation, which struck me as hilarious and I gave a quiet choking chuckle. He got squeamish over that? Sweet Mary. With an intent, patronizing look plastered onto his mug, Rich leaned forward towards me. I regret this, really I do Juliet, but they didnt give me much of a choice. Just think, it did you no good and youre just going to die because of it. Would your little sister have wanted this?
I was so fragging done listening. I launched myself forward and to my feet, and caught the pistol in my hands, wrenching it easily from his grasp in one smooth motion. The weapon made a satisfying sound as I whipped it across his face with enough force to send him and the chair toppling over. Yshoulda left my sister outta it, Rich, I told him and inhaled deeply through my teeth, sighing at the pleasure of seeing him bleed. I let my bloody left hand drop from my side and watched him crawl away from the chair slowly. One of his hands was held to his forehead where Id split the skin open.
Anger is bad for decision-making and always does a number on your perception. Which is probably why I watched Rich scramble towards the desk (and attempt to look like that wasnt his intent) with faint amusement. I sighed quietly and aimed the pistol at him, twitching it to the side to indicate which way he should be moving. The man stared at me in blank confusion, Id probably rattled his brain pretty hard, and I just raised one eyebrow. I think its best if yget up an sit thfrag down in onea these fine chairs Rich, I drawled. Look, ycan even have thone I was usin. I aready bled all over it for yso its nice an' broken in.
It took him a little to coordinate his limbs enough that he could push himself up with the help of the chair. What the hellre you gonna do with that, Juliet? he growled, the faux nice guy demeanor sloughing off completely, now that he was hurting too. Everyone knows ycant hit the broadside of a barn from a meter away.
I pursed my lips and tipped my head slightly to the side as I looked the man over, my brows drawing together as I considered the comment. Now Rich, who thfrag told ythat? Kneecaps make a horrible and rather satisfying sound when they come into contact with objects moving at high velocity. Richs howling was pretty satisfying too, all things considered, as he toppled over again one hand clutching at his leg.
He cursed at me, calling me a slitch, a whore, and so on and so forth. Its amazing how utterly banal people get when it comes to insulting women. I dont really get it, but Ive never had one of my knees blown out so I guess I shouldnt really criticize too much. The man had his mind on other things, clearly. I walked over to where he sprawled, still spouting vitriol at me, and kicked him in the nuts. No finesse, no technique, just wind up and let loose. Like kickball. Heh. That promptly shut him up. Another kick to his face communicated just how pissed off I was feeling rather well, if Im one to guess.
Some people feel the need to chatter as they go about killing you. Rich clearly belonged in that camp. Again, I dont get it myself, but if it works, whatever. I sort of think that if Im going to be ending someones life most often its probably best to do them the favor to not talk their ears off as I do so. A shove with my boot had him sprawled onto his back. Training the pistol at his forehead, I nudged his chin up with the toe of my boot so that I could look into his incredibly dazed looking eyes. Not so sharp now, hunh? I asked and stepped down.
Stiletto heels are immensely sexy footwear, but hell when it comes to walking on anything other than flat, paved surfaces. Ive learned to walk, dance, run, hell, even fight in stilettos on hard flooring or pavement, but even now I still try not to go off road, so to speak. With the careful use of powers I manage just fine, but as soon as I forget, I sink five inches of stiletto heel straight into the ground. Turns out, shockingly, the average metahuman throat isnt really a hard surface. The trachea is pretty cartilaginous and there is the loneliest bone in the metahuman body up there, but none of it is nearly the same kind of obstacle that, say, the ribcage is. Even through the extensive front platform of my boots I could feel the snap of his hyoid, the flattening of those nifty rings, and finally the odd pop and glide as my heel broke his skin and penetrated into his chest, almost using the top of his sternum and his collarbones as a guide.
I must admit, he expired pretty quick after that.
It took more than it felt like it shouldve to extract my heel from Richs body again. Since I now had gore on my rather nice boot, I sat down to take a couple moments to clean it off onto his shirt. Convenient of him to let me borrow that. As soon as I finished up, my side began to throb again and my stomach reminded me, with a vengeance, of how I had abused it so. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts up into the toilet, not that there was much in there to start. Sitting on the bathroom floor and dry heaving, I reflected that what just transpired hadn't been my most glorious moment by far.
When my stomach finally felt like it had gotten its point across and I recovered some measure of control, I sat there and considered my situation. With a check of my pocket secretary I ascertained that Bones was on her way and I was supposed to stall for time if I needed to, but I sent a message to her to let her know I needed clean up now, not rescue. Id tried calling, but her line was busy or off. Go figure. I hadnt heard any shots to shut the frag up or that the cops would be called, so I figured that what had transpired didnt sound like it was out of the ordinary or nobody cared. Both, likely. My side hadnt stopped bleeding, but it wasnt at all life threatening, just messy, so I popped a quick pressure bandage onto it and swallowed some aspirin Id found. No matter what I did, Bones would growl at me and redo it herself.
When I finally mustered the energy to get up off the floor I made for the kitchen, I went in search of Richs alcohol stash. The inside of my left arm itched like mad, but cheap vodka would have to do and there wasnt any way I was touching that tequila. Taking the bottle back with me I stepped over Richs corpse with a little nod, and hopped up to sit on the desk top, legs dangling. I lit up a cigarette and started to retrieve and replace my weapons.
I was still sitting there, drinking and smoking when Bones, Moira and Dag burst in the door, and I greeted them with a little wave. Throwing me an utterly disgusted look, Bones holstered her SMG and stared me down. Moira had a carefully neutral expression and Dag looked a little upset that he didnt get to use his new, trog-sized shotgun, if the way he cradled things was any indication at all. Im not normally one to capitulate in the face of glaring friends, but Bones was a scary woman. Taller than me and heavier by a lot of muscle, dark skinned with bright white cyber eyes and white hair, the tusks just added to the intimidation factor. Look, I commented, the slur in my voice evident even to me, bfore ystart, I
tcall gain. I lifted my right arm and pointed to the absurd bandage on my side. I got shot! He shot me!
There may have been a bit of alcohol in my already depleted blood stream. Just a bit. By the way Boness lip curled I could tell she was debating whether or not she wanted to chew me out before patching me up or after. Or maybe during. It really looked like she was considering shooting me again, but that wasnt her style. Moira peered around Bones at me, offering a hi Ink youre real pale, is she supposed to be that pale? which made up Boness mind. The ork stormed over to me, growling an instruction to the dwarf and troll behind her. Get all this cleaned thfrag up.
Yhadda make a real mess, didntcha kid? she grumbled at me as Moira and Dag started to do their thing. I looked around the room for the first time. Besides the obvious corpse, Id bled all over the pale upholstery of the chair Id been sitting in, left bloody handprints everywhere, including on the frame of the bathroom door which I didnt remember touching, and generally been clumsy as I staggered about. Bones was never overly gentle as a doctor, but as she examined and started cleaning and patching me up, she may have been extra brusque. At least she cared.
I didnt complain about it except to scrunch up my face, take another long swig of vodka and offer a very eloquent Ow. My stomach was still expressing its displeasure with little flashes of queasiness and short moments were it felt like it was trying to roll over on itself. Eventually I wound up leaning into Bones as she stitched me up. Shed taken away my vodka after my slur got a little worse, and then my cigarettes after I almost burned a hole in her shirt and I needed some consolation at the loss. I still wasnt making particularly wonderful work of sitting up on my own anyway. I didn know ycould use a pistol, Ink, she finally muttered to me.
Who says I can? I asked with a tiny giggle. She gave me stink eye although I barely caught a glimpse given my cheek pressed against her shoulder. Yfriends leg is sayin it loud an clear tanyone wit brain nough tsuss it out. Doesnt take a mentat. Thway Id thought things, ywoulda beaten him ta pulp with it, she growled in return. Clearly I wasnt back into her good graces yet.
Dad taught us how tshoot. Pistols an rifles. Yer sposed ttake carea ykids an teach em tdo thsame, yknow? An he figured thbest way ttake carea yself is wi a gun in hand. Mom hated tha, but it was thone thing he overruled er on completely. Moira poked her head in and declared they were almost done. She stared at the desk I was sitting on pointedly and Bones nodded curtly. Time tgo? I asked.
Time tgo, kid, Bones answered much more gently and helped me off the desk. She caught me before I ate floor and then half-dragged and half-supported me out the door to the truck. Next time try not tdo such a cock up job, yeah? Youre alive, but that was fraggin stupid.
I made a noncommittal noise that Bones took as agreement and relaxed into the back seat. I was in fact living. Alive? I didnt really think so.
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: Neophyte
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Sun Dec 23, 2012 5:45 am
Entry #16 - Jia
Thumbing through these I find it amazing how many of them involve me with a concussion. The head is a convenient target and a great way to take someone out of a fight. Come to think, I cant even remember how many concussions Ive had. It started when I fell off a counter when I was three. I was going on an expedition in search of cookies and the end is self-explanatory. Its also a serious hazard of the job, but come to think, I dish out enough head injuries that I shouldnt complain, right? Although I do sort of worry about permanent brain damage. All I can hope is that my magic can help hold it together. So far so good, yeah?
I always get thirsty whenever I have a concussion. Unbelievably, inexplicably thirsty. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out, sometimes I get dizzy beyond belief, and sometimes I just get downright confused. However, no matter what else happens, I always require water. Its unpleasant, but Ive learned to cope with the effects somewhat better, especially in the heat of a run. The first time I ever got one on the job was probably one of the worst. Not just because of the injury, but because of everything else that happened then too.
Nothing ever executes exactly as you plan. When it does, I get suspicious because fortunes a fickle bitch. This was one of those moments. I sat in the passenger seat of the car Charlie had nicked. No, sitting is not what I was doing. Rather, I had curled into the seat, trying to melt into the seat to ground myself while my left armed bled into it. With my right hand I held a towel against the wounds. Squeezing my eyes shut helped with the confusion that the world whirling by me induced. I had him, Charlie, I whispered for the third time. I did good right?
A hand grabbed my shoulder, gently tugging me down so that my head rested on a warm shoulder and an arm wrapped around me, holding me close. A familiar hand gently stroked my hair, soothing and kind. I know, Vera, Charlies rough voice said from above me. I clutched blindly at his shirt, twisting my fingers in the worn fabric as I tried to ground and center myself. I couldnt find ground, and my center seemed to be flying all over the place. It was everywhere except where it was supposed to be: just below my sternum.
I had him, Charlie. I did good right? In my defense, I did have him. Everything went entirely to plan except for the fact that our intel had been wrong. The sleazebag did in fact invite me home, especially once he found out that I was just fifteen. It hadnt been much of a risk, Id had a lot of practice with that which is really depressing. Charlie hadnt liked the plan, but he wasnt fond of putting me in harms way. Still isnt, even though I take him more often than not, although I suppose old habits die hard. I was still a little too thin and brittle with too little care for my own personal safety. Not to mention I spooked really easy.
So Charlie was relegated to get away driver and back up, in the off chance that things really went that badly. Neither of us was in a position to pick our way in since the man had some serious and old-fashioned locks. So getting an invitation was up to me, and was shockingly easy. Id jammed the mechanism on my way in just in case, disguising the action with a stumble in my stupidly heeled boots. I wasnt nearly as drunk as I acted, and took the first opportunity to drive a stiletto between two of his cervical vertebrae. Very little mess and I didnt need to worry about damaging his eyes if I needed those for the safe. Fortunately a finger and the provided voice key were enough since my hands werent the steadiest and removing an eye can be tricky. Not that I even knew how hard it was then.
The part that took the longest, besides getting and keeping his attention, was honestly sorting through the items in the safe to make sure I had everything requested. Id been puzzling over the translation from French to Italian to English and missed Charlie signaling me. When the door opened and our targets partner used it for cover and fired on me, I was tucking the documents into my jacket. Fortunately I didnt miss the snick of the opening door, and managed to dive to the ground and roll before a bunch of flechette chewed up where I was sitting before.
A couple shards had caught me in the arm, stinging, and Id immediately launched myself at him. The only parts of the ensuing fight I remember are getting bludgeoned over the head and hit across the face. Concussions, man. I know that he was larger than me, but its a good bet that most people I fight are going to be at least a little heavier than me. Theres a reason I favor kicks when I dont have a weapon. The one other thing I distinctly recall snapping the mans neck just as he jerked above me. Charlie pulled him off me, pulled me up and gotten us moving. Into the car and driving as quickly as possible without blowing off traffic laws or otherwise drawing attention. If Id been a little less jumbled, I wouldve been thankful we werent in New York City proper because then Charlie would have had to carry me to go as fast as he liked. The motorized vehicle ban blows like that.
As with many things that happen when Ive had my brain rattled, Im not sure how long the car ride took. Id like to be able to claim I fell asleep, but Charlie ruthlessly kept me awake despite my protests and the couple of weak punches I landed on his chest. After the fifth round of my dazed comment, he began to talk to me, his voice low and steady. I think that kept me from panicking because I was well aware all was not well with my brain.
Charlie pulled over into a side street and he let himself out of the car, pushing me up a little so I was sort of sitting up. Of course, I slumped over to the other side, but then he was there, carefully pulling me out of the car and picking me up like I was made out of spun glass. While he might have become ruthless in his methods, Charlie took care of me always. The scenery of a deserted, crummy looking street twirled and fell upwards. I started to struggle because the ground wasnt where I wanted it to be.
I won drop you, Vera, Charlie whispered to me, cradling me close to his chest. People dont really walk very smoothly, especially not when carrying some extra weight and trying to go quick. I clung to him for dear life, convinced that if he let me go I was going to tumble up into the sky and he felt solid enough that if that happened, I thought maybe I could hang on for dear life. I squeezed my eyes shut once more and kept them that way, burying my face into Charlies chest. I heard him knock quietly on the door and it opened instantly. A womans voice ushered us in, the faint accent floating about her words both distressing and comforting to me. He set me down on a couch that had been conveniently covered by a sheet. If Id been in a more thoughtful state, Id have appreciated that I wasnt going to ooze all over the furniture. Vera, thiss Meifeng, that wujen frienda mine. Shes gonna help. Mei, meet Vera.
Meifeng, I whispered to myself. Beautiful Wind, hello. I had him, did you know? I didnt let my eyes open, and a pair of hands smoothed along my cheeks, skirting the nasty contusion over my cheek and slowly lifting my chin. The fingers were too fine, too narrow to be Charlies and they gently turned my head to get a good look at the side.
, she whispered. I have the feeling now that she stuck to English for Charlies benefit, but the endearment made me feel more at home. I need you to open your eyes. I did, and now that I wasnt in motion, everything felt a little more manageable. Meifeng was a Chinese woman, her hair cut functionally short and her features ageless. I placed her in her early thirties or late twenties. Charlie brooded, tall and dark, in the corner opposite us, arms crossed and eyes fixed on us. He remained silent, as he generally does whenever I get hurt. I have a tendency to pace incessantly, but Ive only seen Charlie do that once. He thought Id died. I did too.
Meifeng did an amazing job patching me up then, and has done so every time since. The healing spell alleviated most of the brainfraggery I was experiencing which made me really worry about what would have happened without someone who was willing to help out simply on account of my relation to Charlie and our shared heritage. No way would I have gone to a doctor at that point. Too costly, and I simply didnt have a guardian angel that time. If I went to the family, theyd help, but itd be at a price I didnt want to pay.
She made us tea, the fragrant smell having much the same effect on me as her accent. Distress. Comfort. Warmth. Sorrow. We sat in silence at her worn, scarred table, Mei and Charlie actually drinking their tea. Charlie scowled like he wanted to say something, but Meifeng has always had a flawless poise and serenity to her that I associate with her and my most esteemed martial arts teachers. The discomfort that might have come with the silence was lost on me as I stared at the surface of the jasmine tea. The dark liquid rippled with every tremble in my hands, and at the time there were many. I stared at it and tried to dredge up the word that the scent invoked. I may have been better, but my arm was still sore and I still had a splitting headache that Id dulled slightly with aspirin even though I longed for something stronger.
I shut my eyes and inhaled the aroma deeply, bowing my head so my lips touched the warm liquid. I opened my mouth and said the first word that popped into my head,
. Home. Family. The events of the night and all their implications flooded back to me. Id been hired to kill someone for money. That wasnt the first time Id killed someone, or even the first time Id killed someone for scratch, but it was the first time Id entered into a business agreement to do so. It was also the first time I honestly was in danger of dying on a run. Id lost my home and my family what felt like a long time before that, but the reality of what I had done and all the implications of my actions in that context felt immense and real for the first time.
I wasnt even fifteen yet and I could no longer be considered a child by almost anyones measure, least of all my own. I was, at that moment, fully aware of my mortality and it terrified me. My home as I had known it was gone, my family as I had understood it was gone as well and the two had been inextricably linked for me. The world loomed around me foreboding and incomprehensible and impossibly large, and I felt small and lost and lonely.
Home. I repeated the word in English a bare second after I first spoke it and then burst into bitter, uncontrollable tears. The teacup spilled from my hands and I buried my face into them, heedless of the bruise on my cheek or the warm tea splattered on my hands. The sobs wracked my body and when Charlie tried to embrace and comfort me I struck out at him, screaming and cursing him in an incomprehensible mixture of English, Chinese and Italian. He had a faint scar on his neck for over a year. Meifeng sent him away, folding me in her arms and murmuring to me in Chinese. She has always called me
, younger sister, even from the first moment she met me. As she pulled me close despite my struggles, I realized that she had adopted me, and, when I began to cry into her shoulder, that I was letting her.
I sobbed myself into a restless sleep and when Id wake up throughout the night and day, Id cry inconsolably. I grieved and I raged and I mourned. When I left her home the next evening, I was very much a different person than had been carried across the threshold.
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Joined: 26 Aug 2010
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Tue Dec 25, 2012 3:08 am
Entry #9 - Angels and Goons
There is a limit to the amount of abuse a body can take. Its a simple fact and even at the time, mind muddled with pain and drugs and simple shock, I was pretty sure that I was fast approaching the limit. The end of the line, and it came as a regret-laced relief.
, Id sighed to myself. None of that kept me from crying, pleading and struggling against the small group of thrillers. It didnt keep it from hurting, despite the fact that I was high as a kite.
By the time the massive amounts of bliss running through my veins began to cease to dull the edge, my perception of the hurt was moving from agony to a sort of freed detachment. Everything hurt, but my mind was finally detaching itself from my battered body to let me see myself from far away, watching with a certain calm as the cluster of five gangers jeered as one ground a cigarette butt into my neck and a shudder ran through my otherwise limp body, my wrists pulling weakly at the restraining hands that held them above my head. With impassive and unruffled indifference, I noted to myself that it probably would have been best if I had not bitten one of them and nailed another in the groin. Thats what really upset them.
It all seemed so unimportant as I watched them do what I felt as a disinterested echo, rough hands, a sharp knife and suddenly it all just stopped. My consciousness abruptly snapped back into me now that the forces driving it from me stopped and I stared up into the space where just a moment earlier had been hard expressions and cruel hands. It was empty now and I could see sky, and hear the sounds of scuffling and fighting, loud voices and soon silence.
Three faces entered my blurred and narrowed field of vision. The first two belonged to large, muscular, black suited bodies and if you looked up goon in the dictionary, youd find their faces. They scowled at me as though Id done something wrong, and part of me wanted to snap that they could excuse me, I was just bleeding to death here. No need to pay any mind, just go about your business while I exsanguinate please. The third belonged to what seemed like an impossibly beautiful woman, her silvery hair stood out around her face like a halo, and two pure blue eyes gave me a look of pure compassion when she kneeled beside me. She glowed in the drekhole of the Pit, her white suit perfect and out of place, and I wondered what an angel was doing in this hell.
Goon A, who I finally noted was an ork, growled that I was gutter trash, not worth the time or work, and spat. The angel looked up sharply, her kind expression darkening. Do I pay you to give your opinion? she demanded in a celestial voice and he looked immediately chastised and apologetic. I did not think so. Her attention turned to Goon B, a human. They looked alike enough to be brothers. Bring her, gently. In a much kinder tone she addressed me. Its alright now, no one will hurt you anymore. Youll be alright.
I started to laugh. It hurt and quickly turned into crying, no real tears coming because I was far too dehydrated. Goon B removed his jacket with a grimace of distaste, but immensely carefully draped it over me as he picked me up as easily as most people would pick up a doll. Addiction and starvation had taken their toll on me, and I couldnt find it in me to protest and despite (or because of) everything I felt a stab of shame that I couldnt manage to die right either. Goon B followed the angel out of the alley the gangers had dragged me into. I dont remember the vehicle we entered except that it screamed money on the inside, and for a moment I felt self-conscious that I was bleeding on the seats. I couldnt even muster the energy to note that we were still on Manhattan and there was a fragging vehicle ban.
The ride was smooth and I was still sobbing and laughing and even I could hear the hysterical pitch to it. Agony crept along my nerves, bit deep into my skin along slashes and contusions, burns and broken bones. The angel sat forward in her seat, stripping off her jacket and took my hand. Her brow creased with concentration and some of my wounds abruptly tingled and then went startlingly numb. Simultaneously some of the cuts, burns and bruises that I was positive were mine appeared on the angels skin, splitting and darkening it as if struck by invisible fists and cut by an invisible blade. My very first experience witnessing or receiving empathic healing, and my response seemed appropriate at the time.
I simply passed out.
A sterile room and a comfortable room surrounded me when I woke up. My veins ran cold where the IV dripped into me, and I struggled to get sit up, tugging at the tube of oxygen running to my nose. The place was SOTA. Im often technology stupid and even I knew that. I knew another thing, that I didnt belong here. The largest surprise, however, was that I didnt wake up craving a fix. I looked thoughtfully at my left arm, the track marks livid against the unhealthy pallor of my skin. It all seemed far too surreal. My hand grasped about my neck for the tiny coin with its panda and pagoda, but I let my hand drop, remembering that it was long gone. The feeling increased as an older man in a lab coat appeared to check my vitals and convince me to lie back down. He looked at me like I was dirt, but treated me with the upmost care, speaking to me in civil, clear tones.
Id learned to trust peoples eyes. You learn a lot by what someones looking at, and their expression. The people who stare a little too long, their eyes lingering like an unwanted caress, they could be predators and dangerous, but I could use them, although that was playing with fire. Eyes burning with hatred I avoided, and mostly, people looked at me like I was worth nothing and mattered little. Those people would avoid me and look through me as though I didnt exist. The doctor fell into that last category and didnt really give half a frag, which meant someone was probably shelling out a fortune.
When he stopped nattering away about my medical state, much of it admonishing me for the poor care I had given myself, he stood at the foot of my bed. Miss, you are currently in a private clinic located on the edge of the Lower East Side. A nurse will shortly check you out. Your care has been provided for by one of our clients. Your benefactor requested that I apologize on her behalf for her absence. She left these for you. He reached into his pocket and placed three items onto the bedside table. A plain cellphone, a small card, and a wad of flash, held together with a small rubber band. The number is so that you can call and discuss your options. An expression flickered over his otherwise carefully neutral face, disbelief, disgust, aggravation, all rolled into one. Brief, but it was there. He didnt think I was worth it. Well, at least he was right about that. If you have any questions, miss?
I didnt. The nurse unattached me from the numerous things I was hooked to, returned my few personal effects to me, and the clothing that my anonymous benefactor, the angel, left me were perfect. My old ones hadnt survived the assault, Im sure, and the new ones were nowhere near nice, but still functional. Clean, but not too clean, inconspicuous and everything a girl could want in The Pit. I swiped the money greedily, taking the card and cellphone as more of an afterthought.
Outside the clinic, I studied the card for a moment. All it had was a phone number. No name, no other markings, just a number. It burned nicely when I took my lighter to it. The phone I sold because I had no use for it. There wasnt anyone I wanted to call anyway.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Tue Dec 25, 2012 3:32 am
Entry #10 - Introductions
Ive been fortunate in that I make friends easily. People like me, and this has been a lucky thing because Id be dead many times over without the friends and allies Ive made over the years. My tendency to move highlighted this for me, because very rarely did I leave for somewhere without an introduction and at least one or two contacts. In that, Ive been blessed. Even when I havent had that, Ive seemed to always find my way into a good situation. People come and go out of my life, and while if I got a call from many of my old contact, partners in crime or crews, I would be there in a heartbeat, Ive not sought to stay in contact with them. Charlie, Meifeng and the New York crowd, and Jo are the only two exceptions. Charlie and the people from home are somehow harder and easier to give the concise story on. So Ill start with Jo.
For all that much of our relationship is based in part upon a mutual respect for each others desire that the past remain behind us, Jo still knows more about mine than I know about hers. Knowing a persons background is helpful in building bonds of trust, but it is by no means necessary. I was officially introduced to Josephine Sinclair in Washington DC by a mutual friend, work partner and fellow adept, and I trusted her the moment I laid eyes on her in that club for reasons that had nothing to do with the introduction. Jo is, of course, the one who saved my sorry, worthless self back in The Pit and I was indebted to her ever since then.
In DC, Id walked into the room Wes had directed me to without a second glance, shutting the door behind me and allowing the impeccable sound proofing to deaden the thrumming beat in the club proper. My hair was pulled into intricate braids, highlighting the exotic features of my face, and my dress did the same. Truth be told when Wes had mentioned the location of our meeting, Id been more interested in the potential for clubbing afterwards than the work. Noting the unfamiliar waves of platinum hair, I sat down in the chair opposite Wess friend.
I was utterly poleaxed (and must have looked that way), because I dont remember what I did next. I think I stared, mouth slightly open. She looked exactly the same as she had two years ago. Dressed in a flattering and unquestionably expensive suit in pale colors, the woman reclined in a chair like she owned the damn club, a scotch on the rocks at one hand. Platinum blonde with pale blue eyes and a surprisingly tan natural skin tone, she had sharp, refined aristocratic features. What I really wanted to know was why my guardian angel was here. I knew there was no way Id hallucinated her, but sometimes it was hard to believe she was real. I saw the recognition in her eyes as she looked me over and inclined her chin by way of greeting, but she lacked any indication of the shock I felt, and I felt a moment of intense paranoia. Had she been watching me? Following me for two years? How did she know?
Josephine, it is my pleasure to introduce, Bianca. Bee, this is Josephine Sinclair. I barely paid attention to Wess words, an action that drew a frown from him. He was always damnably good at knowing when Id stopped listening. Truthfully he was always good at knowing what was going on in my mind, as far as it went, but at that moment he couldnt possibly puzzle through it.
Wesley, would you please excuse us for a moment? Cultured, beautiful and utterly authoritative without being grating, her voice formed the question into a command without seeming to overstep any bounds. To my surprise, Wes obeyed immediately, but not without a curious look at Josephine and a quick squeeze of my shoulder. The message might have been subtle to some, but it wasnt to me or, by her expression, the woman across from me. I was under Wess protection and his support was behind me. It was also obvious that he didnt think any harm would come to me, but he always did like to be clear.
When the door shut behind him, we stared at each other. She very politely gave me time to process what was happening, sipping her scotch and studying me thoughtfully. Somehow she kept her thoroughly attentive gaze from being invasive or pressuring. Me? I was trying to puzzle through my battered memories and come to some kind of conclusion. Finally I managed to get one, slightly stuttered question. W-why?
It all depends on what you are asking after, Bianca. I find myself in need of a certain talents and competencies in a certain package, Wesley suggested that you would fit the bill and offered to introduce use. She studied my face, which clearly said that wasnt really the question I cared about. Jo shook her head slowly, looking down at the table and then up to meet my eyes once more. I didnt think that you cared about that. As for why I bothered to get involved? I have, hmmm, lets call it a soft spot for girls like you.
Not to mention it is simply hard for me to turn my back on a young, lost physad. Snobbish as it sounds, if I applied it to anyone in that situation, I would lose my mind. In your specific instance I like to think, that I would have done the same no matter what, but I did check your aura before stepping in, so I am unsure. She sipped her scotch, the ice clinking against the glass, considering her words, evidently weighing them before she continued. At that moment, I could choose to intervene or to walk away. I made a choice, and I committed.
I sat in silence and tried to digest this information. It didnt mesh with the world as I understood it. Josephine Sinclair outclassed me or any of the faces Id ever worn by miles. She looked like she would be at home in a corporate boardroom, but saving wayward young women in a z-zone didnt seem right at all. If you mean why I left you my number and a phone, it is a complicated matter. Very simply, if Id not offered you a way out, I would have done nothing. My actions would have been futile and it would have been, in some ways, no different than if I left you in that alley. I found it interesting that she didnt mention the money shed left. It was unsurprising that you did not call, but I did find it disappointing. I gave up on the idea of ever seeing you again, Bianca.
When I was given the choice to call her, Id known even then that even being given the choice spoke of her basic respect for me, and a certain lack of ulterior motives. A number of ganders acquired geese for their flocks by saving them from a bad situation, and then convincing them to enter under their protection. Then it would be too late, and theyd never get away. If she had wanted to coerce me into something, I would have woken up and she would have been right there. Even if not her, someone who worked for or with her would have been. There would have been no option of whether or not I entered into a conversation, it would have been forced on me.
I swallowed hard, my throat and mouth seeming impossibly dry and finally managed to squeeze out a response. Vera, I said quietly. My real names Vera. She didnt bat an eyelash at any of that, and although her expression hardly changed, I could see in her cool blue eyes that she understood both why I went by a false name and why I felt compelled to tell her my real one. Since Charlied dragged me back to sobriety and life, Id had the cognizance to question what would have happened had Id ever dialed that number. If Id called
Vera, Josephine repeated slowly. What a beautiful name. If you would like, you may call me Jo, at least in private. Now, if you had called we would have discussed your future and your desires. The next thing she said was spoken with a knowing tone that made me cringe despite the lack of judgment that entered into it. My one requirement would have been that you get and stay clean. She noted that flinch and I think she also knew that it was in concern of my own actions, as opposed to her words. Basically, I would have paid for and supported your education or training in an area of your choice, after that. It would have been a loan, either paid back in services rendered or with actual money on a long-term basis. Nothing unreasonable and aside from my first condition and the repayment of my initial investment, I would require nothing of you. You would be your own woman, of course.
I pondered this once more in silence, waiting long enough that she added, you seem to have done well enough for yourself on your own. Count me as impressed. On my own? I turned that phrase over in my mind. Hardly. If Id been left on my own, Id be dead by then, probably without even the gift of a shallow grave. Jo read it on my face and inclined her chin. Well, without my meddling, rather. You must be something, to have Wess recommendation. I quite look forward to getting to know you better, and hopefully to work with you as well. There was only one response I could possibly have.
Me too.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Thu Dec 27, 2012 6:28 am
Entry #17 - No Hesitation, Missy
Another common theme seems to be that these feature me without armor. Body armor is great for some things, like when I expect to get into pitched skirmishes and all, but I make do with Second Skin and light armor or less when Im acting as a face or fixing. People feel more at home with a lightly (or not at all) armed and unarmored fixer. It gives the impression of trust, plus I deal with a lot of men and they often appreciate a nice body and a pretty smile. On top of that, if I was completely prepared most of these wouldnt have ended as badly as they did. Sometimes no amount of armor does you much good, however.
I dislike guns, a fact which people often mistake for having little to no familiarity with them. I feel they lack the finesse and control of a blade or my own body or even a bow. I admit, that I have nothing that truly rivals the destructive power of a Panther AC. It sends a strong message, but again, it lacks in any delicacy. Spraying down an area with full auto gives an interesting rush and makes me long for the surgical control I feel with my blades. Finding Im down to half a clip or less while pinned down always ruins my day. Another thing I dont love about guns, they run the frag out of ammo. I can throw them then, but what the hell else is it good for at that point? This is true of all (most?) ranged weapons, and I could discuss in circles, but I swear there was a point to this. Armor, guns, oh frag me, I dont know. This is what I get for walking away in the middle of this.
Alright, now that Ive walked away and come back again, I think I remember what I meant to write. Maybe.
I hate nothing more than getting into shootouts with corpsec. Maybe not nothing, but very little. Especially when theyre out on garbage detail and no one cares what happens. To add insult to injury, we were more an incidental target. Wrong place, wrong time, and one of them had recognized me and Naja. The fact the two of us were heavily armed and armored in a bad part of town did nothing to help us, really. Except for the fact that I had grenades, those turned out to be immensely helpful. Still, we pretty quickly ran out of ammo completely.
I just wish they didnt have morningstars, more than I can say. No knife bullets would have been nice too, but some things are simply too much to ask. Najad taken several to his left leg and was moving slow, or the morningstars would have been less of a problem. Being set on fire is ungodly unpleasant and theres only so much that normal body armor will protect you. There was a nice hole in my armor around my shoulder and Id have cared much more about it and the blood trickling down my chest if my pain editor wasnt active. I cared much more about getting to our pick up and ride out of here.
Naja wasnt going anywhere fast. I had no idea how extensively hed been burned, but it was time to go. I could hear the team advancing and used my last two grenades. One I threw over the low wall wed sheltered behind, stooping to grab the heavy as sin street sam. Ive always been stronger than my size suggests, but its still incredibly awkward to carry someone bigger than you. I might be able to bench press the weight of a troll, but if someone asks me to pick one up in practice, Ill likely laugh my ass off and just drag the sucker wherever I need them. Listening to the surprised, rather unhappy shouts about my first present a dual charge HE and smoke I had a short lived internal chuckle and dropped the second. Smoke and neuro-stun, I hoped they enjoyed.
Running carrying a person is highly unpleasant and would have probably been impossible without the pain editor to deaden the nerves in my shoulder. I really hoped nothing vital had been hit, but didnt exactly have a chance to check it out. Either way, I was in better shape than my friend. Necessity forced me to stop and I ducked into a narrow alley and then behind a dumpster, setting Naja down and finally getting a good look.
My face mustve said it all because he gave a rasping, hoarse cough of a laugh and sloppily grabbed for my hand. Im fragged up, aint I, kid. I caught his grasping hand in mine, giving a little squeeze and attempting to find a reassuring smile. Burns are horrific things, and the bits of flesh I could see they were pretty extensive. Parts of his face were spared and the hand I grasped, but other than that, red, charred, or melted flesh as far as I could see. The writing on the wall was clear to me, and apparently to Naja as well. Yknow what tdo, yeah? No need tstand about on ceremony.
Id spent a little bit of time on a farm when I needed to get out of the city once. Id helped slaughter a couple of pigs and been handed a bolt stunner and told how to use it. The look Id had mustve been hilarious, especially given my chosen profession, because my host had clapped me on the shoulder and told me no hesitation, missy. Just nut up and get goin. That advice applied equally (and appallingly) well the moment I took Najas face in my hands. I didnt insult him by asking if he was sure, and just asked if there was anything else. There wasnt. No hesitation, missy.
Necks snap really easy when the subject doesnt struggle.
Six blocks later I met up with my pickup. Id lost the corp team, and the look on my face said everything so they didnt need to ask after Naja when I launched myself into the open door of the still rolling vehicle. Slumping in the back of the van I started to strip off my armor and finally realized blood slicked my hands. Pain punched my shoulder when I deactivated my editor and I took a deep breath and began to curse.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Fri Dec 28, 2012 9:12 am
Entry #3 - Coming Apart at the Seams
Written late fall 2058
Im going to kill Charlie. The bastard. The utterly presumptuous, motherfragging asshole. I wish I could blame the shaking of my hand on rage, but maybe it cant hurt. Im going to murder him. Then Im going to burn this bloody fragging book. Murder first, then burning. I like that. That sounds good.
How dare he? What right does he have? Im going to kill him. I swear by the Mother Mary Im going to end him. Absolutely murder. Theyll never find his body. Although I will need to wait until Im better enough to dig a grave or otherwise figure out how to dispose of his body.
What even made him think that handing this to me would be a good idea? Its not his. Frag. I hate him. I hate him for doing this to me, and I hate him for giving me this and a pen as soon as my hands have stopped shaking enough that I can hold a fragging spoon. I hope he rots and burns and everything else.
That isnt true. That isnt fair. Drek. Everythings impossible, and I can barely hold this pen. It should be so simple, so easy. But I cant write and I cant draw and I can barely walk up a flight of stairs let alone fight or dance. My hands shake, my voice shakes, everything about me is shaking and it feels like Im coming undone. A poorly stitched doll thats coming apart at the seams. Or I would feel that way, if everything else wasnt emptiness. Id have thrown this stupid thing at him if Id have a prayer of getting it two meters, let alone hit him.
Part of me hates her for giving this to me. It isnt working. It doesnt work. It wont work. Not ever. My left arm burns, and I cant get rid of the feeling. Prickles everywhere. Charlies wrapped it so Id stop scratching and picking, and I want to undo them, but I dont want to fight with him about it too. I cant stop screaming at him for everything. How could he do any of this to me? I ran away from him for a reason. I did everything for a reason. How hard is it to just accept that?
I guess I can understand why hes doing this, but I hate him a little for it. I feel like if I were stronger, Id fight him through this. Well, I do, but not really. Id leave, if I could find it in me. I have no fight left though, and I know it. Ive been beaten, and the fact that I admit it is funny in a dark, grim way. Charlie used to tease me, tell me that one of the things he loved about me, that he admired from the first moment he saw me, was my unwillingness to admit defeat.
Now I know better. I know when Ive been beaten, at least sometimes. I cant believe he found me, and I cant believe he cares still. Ive been awful to him. Absolutely awful and Im so ashamed. He gave me her necklace with the journal, to replace mine. I sold it or traded it, I dont even know, but I miss it now. Im not sure I have it in me to wear hers. It makes me remember, makes me think, and all I want is to forget.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Sun Dec 30, 2012 5:20 am
Entry #13 - Cataclysm in Waiting
Up until recently Ive been somewhat disastrous in love. It wasnt just about what it did to me, it was about everything else. Some of it may have been that Im simply young, a fact I forget easily while at the same time it hovers at the edge of my mind. Some of it is simply that the deaths of my parents within days of each other, and then what happened to Neri left my heart too battered to see romance as anything but a cataclysm in waiting.
Charlie was my first love, and I still love him, but there are some things that passion just cant survive. As weird as it is (or maybe its to be expected?), hes like a brother to me now and even though parts of our relationship are incomprehensible, I owe him everything, in many ways. Im marrying the third and last of my loves, even though I still havent set a date yet.
So that leaves the second. I never said it, but I loved Wes. He was many things to me: a teacher and mentor, a friend and lover, and the first real contact I had in DC. I wonder what would have happened if he had asked me to stay, but that wasnt our style. Mostly we fought. A lot. For so many reasons, but one of them being that we never really talked about any of it. Fragging your main sparring partner and then getting into complicated emotional drek with them leads to a lot of black eyes.
I pondered that fact as I stripped out of my work out clothing, tossing the sports bra and sweats into a corner with an angry growl. While I could have gotten dressed or taken a shower, I was too busy seething with anger to care. Instead I sat down on the bed, stark naked, and took inventory of the damage so to speak. Wes and I were good enough to never do any real damage when we fought to take our aggression out on each other, but that didnt stop my back from feeling like a giant bruise from when hed slammed me down on the mats. It didnt stop my cheek from throbbing in time with heartbeat, or my lip from stinging. The back of my hand came away tinged with a lip print of blood when I pressed it to my mouth.
Turns out Wes had gotten the black eye this time, as well as a bruise on his jaw to show for our scuffle. He got out lighter than me, mostly because the man was a beast when it came to ground fighting, and it hadnt taken him much time to put me on my back and then into a submission hold. He released me as soon as I tapped, his expression one of faint concern as I growled and stormed from the room. It wasnt that hed ended the fight almost as soon as Id started it that I was still livid about, it was the start of our argument. He had no right to tell me who I could or couldnt go home with, and no call to be angry when I did.
I lit a cigarette, smoking it in silence as I brooded on the matter. A quiet noise brushed my ears from behind, alerting me to Wess presence in my doorway. I said nothing and did nothing, simply smoked and sat, grimacing at the bloody print on the filter. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled as he watched me, probably leaning against the doorframe. Finally I heard him move, felt the creak and weight of the bed as he sat down behind me.
Gently, almost reverently, his rough fingers drag over the tattoo spanning my hips. I could remember the first time hed ever saw it, his surprised chuckle and the brush of his lips as hed murmured against my skin, such a beautiful corpse though. That hand trailed up my spine, brushing my long, tangled hair over my shoulder as he moved closer slowly. I flicked ash from the tip of my cigarette, chin tipping up to exhale a narrow column of smoke. Warm lips pressed to the back of my neck and the tattoo there, an intimate gesture as he whispered his apology. I said nothing.
Vera, he sighed against my skin, the pronunciation of it laced with longing and resignation. I extinguished my half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray and allowed him to pull me into his lap, his pants and shirt soft against my skin although I couldnt prevent the slight wince as his chest pressed to my smarting back. That didnt stop me from leaning into him, and abruptly the heat of my rage left me, leaving behind the dull chill and ache of injured feelings.
Wes whispered more apologies into my skin, as though I might hear them better that way. Me? I realized, achingly, that I couldnt do this anymore. Not to me, but most of all not to him. Wed never done serious damage to each other, but in the last month Id gotten at least twice as many bruises from Wes as I did from the actual jobs we ran. The same was true of him and we were fighting more and more. This one was about who I went home with from a club and the fact that it hadnt been Wes. The one days before was the same, except it was about
choice in other bed partners.
Im goin to Atlanta, I murmured and felt him stiffen, his lips stilled against the nape of my neck. In two weeks. Its been arranged. Actually, that was a lie but Jo had offered to hook me up with someone there two weeks ago, apparently sensing that I might need to get out of DC. I hadnt talked to her yet, but shed make it happen for me. I waited for him to say something, anything. To ask me to stay, to yell about me leaving, to just accept it. Instead, Wes turned my face towards his, kissed my lips gently and bore me down onto the bed.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Wed Jan 02, 2013 11:04 pm
Entry #15 - Falling Free
Date Edited:
Thu Jan 17, 2013 9:47 am (edits total: 1)
Edited By:
I really wished I didnt have all the security in the place on my tail, and that I wasnt carrying one of the most expensive pieces of tech to be found in the labs. The company was some tech-wizards baby, and he didnt have a great head for security or business, but did have the scratch to buy the building and renovate it all shiny and new. Id just gotten really unlucky when wed had to split unexpectedly because they decided to patrol early due to some big combat biker tournament.
As I took a corner hard enough that I almost skidded into the wall before running down the hallway, I reflected that at least wed been told to make the thing noisy. Still, all the security was after me like white on rice and I kept making poor choices in direction, goaded in part by their surprisingly skillful (or lucky, most likely lucky) herding. One of them kept taking shots at me, leaving a bunch of bullets in walls nearby the black skid marks my boots left as I abruptly chose to change direction. While it was only three of them, I wasnt exactly prepared for this. I was wearing very little of substance under my long jacket and besides some formfit and the kevlar facemask Id been wearing more for the sake of my anonymity than anything else, and only a couple of knives for weapons since the plan had been to get me up into the vents and then theyd draw security.
Best laid plans.
My boots struggled for traction momentarily and what I really wanted to know was why in the world some cheapass put linoleum in a hallway full of offices and a couple conference rooms? Right, cheap. My treads finally caught and bolted forward, listening to the shouts of the security. Oh joy, the cops would be showing up in three minutes, but at least they had the courtesy to yell that for me. At a t-intersection I hesitated, squeezing my eyes shut as I brought up the layout of the building in my head and the surrounding structures too. I was on the second floor and this was not somewhere Id ever intended to be. To the east was the best escape: a narrow alley, nice and shadowed. Also a trap I wouldnt get out of if the cops closed it off.
So which way was I facing now? Id taken a lot of abrupt turns, especially when Id been faced with not just one, but two fraggers with guns on separate occasions. Right or left? I heard the footsteps behind me approach which meant Id been staying still too long and they were going to try to plant a bullet in my back, and went right. As soon as Id made the choice and started to run, I realized Id been wrong and cursed at myself, immediately pivoting and running back the other way. A shot fired as I passed that intersection again, and I swear I could feel the bullet brush by me, but thats probably just complete drek.
Down the hall, into a conference room. I thanked my lucky stars once more that while the designer didnt approve of hallways, he liked sunlight and maybe the opulence that a wall of plate glass presented. From the outside anyway. Not relishing the idea of trying to jump through one of those thick panes, I ejected an executives chair out the window to clear the way some, helping it along with a firm kick of my boot. It took my eyes just a moment to adjust to the slight change in light, to see the building across the way now that there was no glare from the glass in the way.
It was unfortunately too high for me to have a prayer of landing on top, Id have to be a fragging bird to do it. The ground was too far below for comfort, even with the magic I had at my disposal. At the moment I had very little confidence in that particular ability anyway. Id only practiced it in a warehouse, and now was a very bad time to break a back or leg, since I was on my own, not that any time is exactly ideal. My gaze caught on a fire escape across the way, and I could feel a tiny, disbelieving smile curl my lips as I considered the option. I could reach at least far enough to catch one of the wrought iron rails, probably. Another, saner part of me laughed and firmly said no fragging way. Not a prayer.
The rest of me told it to shove it, that itd be just like a particularly dangerous routine on the uneven bars. Stubborn and self-mocking, I told myself that itd be fun, and backed as far as I could go in the room, listening to the once again approach of the security team and clenching and unclenching my hands within my gloves. A running start launched me into the darkness, the muggy New York air startling after the carefully climate controlled building, the familiar humidity creeping past my armor to caress my skin as I flew. My hands caught the railing and my body slammed into it, the impact jarring. I felt a moments elation before my hands abruptly slipped and I plummeted.
My fingers grasped hopefully at nothing for a moment before I resigned myself to the fall, taking a single blink to give a prayer and a curse before I gave myself over to the rhythm of my magic. With utter certainty I knew exactly what I was capable of and exactly how to do it. The knowledge thundered in my suddenly loud pulse, coursing through my veins with the adrenaline. One breath in and then I impacted the ground, drawing power through me and out, spreading it across the ground to distribute the force of my fall out around me, the faintest breeze of the air being displaced ruffling trash and refuse a couple feet away. Instead of a bone-breaking thud, my back made a muffled clapping sound as I came to rest on earth.
I didnt give myself any time to celebrate my victory, and instead pushed myself to my feet and started to run again. My ribs smarted where the supposedly (and hopefully) impact proof casing of the little device had been sandwiched between myself and the fire escape, but it was a small hurt. Time to start running again, before the cops showed up. Once I was out it was an easy thing to get back to the meeting spot. Our tech wiz checked the thing out, and then we went back to the building in Terminal Charlied set up shop in.
I regaled the group with the thrilling tale of my escape, the nearly very bad fall, and finally excused myself to shower and change into a tank top and incredibly worn BDUs. I gave them only a few more uses before they gave out and developed a hole in an uncomfortable place or something. A building full of runners can be a trying experience, even if you are friends or at least friendly with all of them, and so I went to the roof to Charlies not so secret folding chair set up. Id meant to sit alone and chain smoke until I felt like going back in, but I heard the door shut audibly, loudly even, behind me. I guessed Charlie. Hed come into that habit a long time ago, as not sneaking up on me while I was in a relaxed (and vulnerable) position prevented me from panicking to the point of hysteria or trying to put a knife in him, but that was a long time ago. Some old habits never die. The noise, not the stabbing. I tend not to get automatically stabby anymore unless people really surprise me.
This is the point of writing about this, and the rest I guess doesnt serve much purpose, come to think. Oh well, I already wrote it anyway. Thanks Vera, he said in his rough voice and set a chilled beer down beside me. I immediately took a sip, despite the fact that I dont even really like beer. It was brutally hot in New York, as always, and the cool liquid felt good sliding down my throat. I know youre gonna say I shouldn thank ycause youre gettin' a cut too, but still. Thanks. I simply chuckled and shook my head a tiny bit, glancing to the side as he sat down beside me.
Charlied been handsome when we were younger (frag, were still young thats depressing), but while Id been meticulous in getting my scars magically removed or otherwise treated, when Charlie had been blinded in first one eye, then the other, hed replaced them with cybereyes alright, but they were a milky, pale, blind looking blue. Theres a reason hes often referred to as Blind Charlie, but I never could take the name. Id been there when hed lost one eye, and I wish hed get them fixed and would let me help. Normally he wore sunglasses to hide them, they are noticeable as hell, but hed left those off, since it was just the two of us. We liked to pretend that we didnt have to hide from each other. No matter what he told anyone else, I knew that the reason he wouldnt let go of the scars or get more mundane cybereyes was his way of wearing the damage, of coping with it. He told the world he didnt fragging care about what itd done by keeping it that way. Me? I didnt and still dont have the balls to be straight forward about it. Instead I put it into my skin in the form of tattoos, trying to in part prove that I can make my hurts into something beautiful, like my sister would have.
The thoughts drove me to take a larger swallow of beer. Its been three years, Vera, Charlie commented, his voice carefully neutral, which said more to me than anything else. It drove me to an even larger mouthful. Almost tthe day. I gave him a disgusted look, my upper lip curling up in a silent snarl. Pointedly I brought the mouth of the bottle to my lips once more, chugging the rest, and then threw it across the roof so it shattered against the short wall bounding the area. Charlie watched, his eyes and expression damnably hard to read, and then set another beer next to me. I brought a six pack. Just in case yneed more ammunition.
Ill clean it up, I mumbled against my knees when I folded my legs up to my chest, hugging them protectively there as though curling into a ball might protect me from this conversation. A lot has changed, hasn it? The look Charlie gave me was pure sympathy, and at that moment I knew there was no getting out of talking about whatever this was until Charlie said his peace.
Sonuva .
I thought and smushed my face against my knees. Well, I could jump off the roof, but Id had enough of base jumping without a parachute for one night, thanks.
I thought, for a long time, that what ydid on in thPit after His words faltered and he swallowed them, probably in response to the immediate tightening of all my muscles. Rather than continue with that exact sentence Charlie chose, wisely, to clear his throat and to change his line of comment ever so slightly. I thought yd just lost it, that ywere completely outta ymind an had no idea what ywere getting yself inta. I know better now, Vera. You may nota planned everythin that happened in there an ydefinitely were a lil cracked, but yknew goin in. Ylet yerself fall, let go knowin everythin that could happen, an yviewed it as yway free of it.
Another way out of this would be to throw Charlie off the roof. I pondered that briefly, but swiftly gave up the idea. It had been three years and I owed it to him to at least let him talk. He wouldnt like it, but if he wanted to, I owed him. Actually, I corrected softly. Thbliss was to help with the nightmares, at least at first. All I waned tdo was sleep without dreaming while I waited. So I guess it was a way tfreedom. Charlies face adopted a stricken expression and I didnt have to elaborate on what I was waiting for.
I also know nough tknow that youre not done fallin. Ymay be able tfool the mosta them, but I know why ycant stay in one place for moren a couple months. How long was thlongest ystayed anywhere since yleft? Six months in DC? Seven? The pity in his voice as he continued clawed down my spine, dug itself under my skin and stung. Why should he pity me? Why should anyone? I was beautiful, beloved, talented and strong. I was desired and where I was not desired, I was often envied. I know why yleft DC too. I know that threason ylike workin with a group so much is that they keep yfrom lookin tfulfill the death wish youre so attached t. Thworld pulled the ground out from under you, and then ynever did find solid land again and yaint even lookin. Yjust keep fallin and makin it look like youre flyin.
I swallowed against the bitter tang of hurt that pricked at my throat and danced along my tongue. The implied suggestion that I let go wounded me. My hand curled protectively over the dove on my calf, fingers stroking the graceful lines of one of the first tattoos I ever did. Ywere there Charlie, I whispered. You saw what I saw too. How can I move on after that? It hurt ytoo. An everyone else. Chip looks at me like hes seein her, sometimes. It mosly happens after hes been up too late and isnt thinkin, but the expression on his face when he realizes she isnt here . Did yknow that he was half in love with her? Hed just realized it himself. But she was my
. My fraggin twin, Charlie. It hurt me most. I looked up at Charlie defiantly, knowing that the emotion was written in the set of my chin, the slight jut of my lip, and the coldness in my eyes. I know what ythink I should do, and I cant. Not ever.
His expression clouded and I knew what he wanted to do. What he really wanted was to invoke my sisters name and try to get me to see it as a betrayal of her memory or some other such utter crap. Charlie also knew well enough to realize that if he did, at that moment, for all our years of friendship, for all I owed him, it would mean nothing for the time it took for me to stab him. Instead he let out a gusty sigh, slumping back and looking at me with an expression of helplessness. It made me feel a slight prickle of shame. I dont wanna lose you either, Vera, not a second time. Nonea us do. And here youre gonna deny that were at risk of that, but just remember, its okay if youre haring about the world, having adventures. Youll always come back and see us, and we know that. Were all gonna die one day, I know, an us soonern most but were not ready tlose you yet. The way ylive, Vera, its not gonna be long. I couldnt decipher all the emotions, all the meanings he packed into his next plea, but it shook me to my core, please, Vera, for us. Please.
In many ways, I hoped it wouldnt be too long. Id been without my twin for far too much time and I missed her. But his words struck a chord with me. I had people who cared for me, and carrying around her memory turned me into the walking wounded. I knew what it felt like to lose someone, more than one someone at a time even. While I exercised caution on jobs other peoples lives depended upon me I was a hellraiser off a run, and that could be dangerous in of itself. Id stayed clean, barely, and what Charlie wanted was for me to accept her death, celebrate her life, be thankful of the gifts she gave me, and to carry on with my life. I couldnt do that. I can barely accept it now and thats not without its own sort of anguish, and I couldnt do it then.
I made a choice then, to try and bury the pain of her death and the now sorrow colored memories with her. I had been so happy, and that she was gone made that happiness a knife, sharp and painful. So for all that I loved her more than anything, I let them go. I denied myself the memory of her and the pain, and although it felt like a betrayal, I knew that she would understand. She always did. I cut the lines that I felt bound me to it all and I buried her and all that emotion deep within me. It made things easier, made me lighter, and I felt that for once, while I might be falling, I was falling free of it all.
It wasnt that simple, of course. I was still working on it when I went to Vegas the next week, and like most things it didnt stay buried. It sure as frag isnt buried now. I mostly blame the Dweller (asshole that he is), an ill-advised astral quest (which led me to him in the first place), and then me dragging this thing out again. But even before then, bits of it were coming back. It always got dredged up again anyway. An incident, a slip of the tongue here, a forgotten memory resurfacing there I was a fool to think I could just let her go, that I could just carve that part of me away like it was nothing important. Now I just need to find out how to live with this all.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Fri Jan 04, 2013 9:57 am
Entry #11 - Fever Dreams
I was out of my mind and far out of touch with reality when Charlie found me in the Pit. The remembrance itself is hazy and yet intense and vivid. The snippets of memory I retain of the weeks following are much the same. Theyre like fever dreams, and I know that at least some of them are dreams, but some of them are not, and I think most have a touch of reality in them. They frustrate me because I cant even remember their order; its just a tangled jumble of memory.
I was so high. Light as a cloud, free as a bird, and far away from anything I felt like I flew. My body might be grounded in a tiny, dingy room of a crumbling building in The Pit, but that was just meat. My mind marveled at the stars it swam amongst, and all my pain, all the complaints of my body meant nothing, soothed away by the drugs I could feel singing in my veins. They sang me a lullaby and I drifted in and out to the tides of my beating heart.
A sharp, loud noise from the door shook my reverie, just a little bit. Enough for me to open my eyes and stare out into the dark of the room. It brought along the attention of some of my other tastes and I could smell the sour odor of the place, see the grime, and taste a bitter patina on the back of my tongue. A face entered my field of vision, green eyes, dark brown hair, and very familiar features. Ah, well, it wouldnt be the first time Id hallucinated Charlie. Although normally bliss didnt cause them, and I didnt think Id taken any zen or anything else. Fingers brushed over my cheeks, pressing my oily hair away from them, and I cringed away from them in fear. There were still bruises in the shape of fingers about my neck from where a man had gotten a little rough and tried to strangle me, and one on my high cheekbone. Even the bliss couldnt drown that out so soon.
Charlies face crumpled when I shrank back from him, and he reached out slowly, like he was dealing with a skittish animal. Christ Vera, whatve they done tyou? I heard him whisper brokenly and suddenly realized that he wasnt a hallucination. Even through the unnatural tranquility of the bliss-induced state, I knew I had to get out. I couldnt have him there I didnt want him there. I tried to climb away from him, and when that failed, I clawed at him, too weak, panicked and drugged to do anything but. He easily restrained my too thin wrists, which made me panic more. I cried when he picked me up and carried me out of there, but not for the reasons he thought.
Charlie carried me up the familiar narrow stairs, down a hall, into a small apartment, into the cramped bathroom. Gently he deposited me, clothing and all, into the shower, immediately turning the water on, letting the cold spray drench my clothing and skin. I tried to crawl away from the chill, but it did serve its purpose to some degree. Charlie had attempted to wake me up several times as he carried me with varying success. The ice running down my skin did its job. He cursed as he watched me, and allowed the water to warm up while he stripped off his shirt and pants, crawling in with me in just his boxers.
We sat on the floor of the shower stall and carefully he removed my horrid clothing, vowing to me at least once that he was going to torch them. I shook and I shivered, even once the water flowing about me felt hot, even to my feverish skin. Charlie washed me carefully, and I watched with fascination as the accumulated residue of the Pit washed down the drain, a mix of dirt, dust, dried blood from a cut Id forgotten about on the outside of my arm, and I could see the crystalized matrix of the drug that had been left on my skin, excreted in my sweat and clinging there with a tenacious grip.
For his part, Charlie couldnt help the startled, horrified sounds he made every time he discovered a new bruise or cut, each one followed by a whispered apology that felt like a razorblade kiss against my soul. The way his eyes shut in pained resignation when he examined the track marks on my arm felt like a knife.
He wrapped me in a towel like a cloud when I was clean to his satisfaction, plucking me from the floor of the shower easily. A part of me absently noted that he seemed stronger, must have been working out, and a louder, bitter part responded that you could play xylophone on my ribs if you so chose. The next thing I knew I found myself wrapped in a nest of blankets and despite feeling like I bled under my skin, I shut my eyes and fell straight into an uneasy sleep.
There was blood in the pipes. I knew there was. It dripped from the faucets, red and slightly viscous. It might smell like water and taste a little like it, but I knew it was blood. Where it came from escaped me and horrified me, my mind dancing around the very idea uncomfortably. All that blood must come from somewhere though, and the thought had me shivering under a blanket. I couldnt believe that Charlie wasnt aware of it, didnt see it. He kept trying to get me to drink, promising me it wasnt blood, just water. I suspected he was lying.
I needed. More than food, more than water, more than air, I needed a fix so badly. The craving, the necessity of it clawed at my insides, raked my throat with a thirst that I couldnt quench. I shivered under the force of it, begged and pleaded with Charlie to let me go. To get me something. Anything, please. Id do anything. He would just shake his head and deny me in firm, gentle tones. The beast inside of me shrieked and shouted, and I did too, my words accusing, angry and vicious. I raged and railed until my fury unraveled and left me crying and unsatisfied. Then I sobbed, hard and without reprieve, at the hopelessness and the gaping hole I needed to fill. Soon, I would be back to begging.
Nothing wanted to stay down. Not food. Not water. Not the secrets and not the memory either. All the pain I had caused, the things I had done wouldnt remain secret either. The bliss, the hurt, the fear, the shame, the bad things in the dark eventually came up, passing over my lips with barely a word said. There wasnt room for words beneath the flood of memory pouring out of me, drowning everything. Some of them cut like knives, and some of them made me want to retch with the sweetness of them. A couple soothed me like the drugs, sending me flying free for just a couple moments, but I wanted them to stay inside with everything else.
My throat and tongue burned with acid, sour and raw. The violent heaves of my sides bruised my ribs and belly. I was turning inside out and couldnt stop it. I knew there was one thing that could make it stop, one small, easy thing, but when I asked, when I begged, I was denied. So I resigned myself to feeling all of me well up and escape, one harsh, broken fragment at a time.
My skin was aflame, crackling and cracking beneath the heat. My blood boiled, rushing scalding through my veins, making them feel like they might rupture at any moment. Sparks of gold and embers danced against my eyelids and, when I opened them, roared into life. The rush of flame sounded in my ears, or perhaps that was the hiss of my blood as it bubbled through artery and vein. It hurt. The tears that slowly coursed down my cheeks traced lines of ice, freezing against the fire in my flesh.
I burned.
She doesn look too good, Charlie . A cool hand pressed to my feverish forehead, the fingers ice-like and unable to keep the heat at bay for very long. They melted against my forehead, disappearing quickly. A second voice responded to the first. Frag. Get er to drink this Chip. A frigid line nudged my cracked and heat dry lips, trickling liquid that evaporated instantly in the face of the inferno that raged through me, but still enough made it into my throat to choke me. I struggled and sputtered, the glass leaving my lips long enough for me to recover before coming back. I swallowed more smoothly.
Let me get her, Charlies voice said and I was lifted into the air, one arm beneath my knees and the other about my ribs beneath my arms. My muscles had melted like wax in the heat, and I flopped, the sweat-drenched clothing sticking to me, uncomfortably cold against my blistering skin. Suddenly I was placed gently into water that felt chilled, the sudden cool rush of it making my body twitch once, and then fall still when a grip beneath my head kept my face above water. Hold her.
My head bobbed in the water as the task of supporting it was transferred, and I briefly wondered if theyd put me in a tub full of blood. I quickly discarded that because blood would be much warmer, after all. My right arm was seized, the crook of my elbow swabbed with something that instantly left a prickle of cold, and then a needle stabbed into it. Since when can yplace an IV? the voice closest to my head asked and I stopped paying attention, allowing the fire to consume me, and the rush of the IV to attempt to quell it without my interference.
A monster lurked in the doorway. He kept me trapped in this room awaiting a savior knight to come get me. There wasnt going to be one, and I knew that, considering that the monster had been my knight, once upon a time, and I had to get out. I clenched a kitchen knife in one of my fists and huddled under a blanket, shivering in the corner as I eyed the exit. I had to get out. He wanted to keep me here for I didnt know how long, I wasnt even sure why. There were other monsters, worse monsters, outside too, and at least he kept them out, but how long would that be? My fingers clenched harder about the knife, knuckles turning white as I stared out into the darkness of the room. I sat there and shivered and realized one important thing: I had to get out, but I lacked the courage to do so.
The moment I came back to lucidity felt like a fever breaking, like waking from a long sleep. With a groan I stretched in a familiar bed, rolling over and taking stock of myself. I could feel my hands shaking and they simply lay on either side of me, and my muscles felt weak. I was hungry, but not as hungry as I realized I probably should be when I brushed a hand over my ribs and could feel each one with ease. My skin felt greasy and uncomfortably parched with sweat dried upon it, my hair oily and limp. I felt hollowed out and raw, hungry for a hit, but not consumed by it. Anxieties, about my future and the deeds of the past dogged my thoughts, but they became secondary to my need to eat and then shower. I sat up and decided that it was shower then eat.
I knew I was in Charlies place and I even knew why, and I raided his dresser for a loose t-shirt and a pair of boxers before padding into his bathroom. I even knew why he was asleep on the couch and looked like death warmed over. I chose not to wake him up, and instead showered thoroughly and attempted not to be bothered by the persistent tremor in my hands or the feeling that my knees might give out at any time. My attempt failed, but I stumbled out of the shower clean at least.
Charlie awoke to me sitting curled in one of his kitchen chairs, eating a bowl of cereal, the kind with the little marshmallows in it. He peered at me over the back of the sofa and blinked, rubbing at his eyes as he tried not to look exhausted and yawn his head off. I waved with my spoon and held up the box of cereal in one hand, pointing at it with my spoon before swinging it to indicate the spare bowl Id brought out and the soymilk. In truth, my hands were shaking hard enough to make using and holding a spoon hard, and I was trying to ignore that. He hesitated and then nodded, pushing up to walk over to me. Yaint gonna try an stab me, are ya? he asked as he approached, eyes slightly suspicious.
Nah, I answered, my voice sounding slightly hoarse and strange to my own ears. I sorry bout that. I poured him a bowl and slid it over to the seat Charlie had moved to occupy. His green eyes viewed me with absolute concern as he took a few mouthfuls, chewing so slowly it was as if his thoughts took so much effort he couldnt do even that. Id eaten half a bowl and started toying with the rest, poking the now soggy mess around the bottom of the dish.
Yshould finish that, Charlie commented and thus began the months of him nagging me to eat more. I flashed a glare at him and he actually smiled, taking my stink eye in absolute stride. He stood and leaned forward a bit, brushing my damp hair away from my forehead and pressing a kiss there. Im so glad thave yback with us, Vera, he murmured as he sat back. We were so scared.
was so scared. There was little I could say in response to that, so I took a large mouthful of cereal instead.
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: Neophyte
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Date Posted:
Thu Jan 10, 2013 1:46 am
Entry #8 - Treed
I really hate guard dogs. Im not an animal person; out of the two of us, Neri was animal person enough. On top of that, theyre just doing their job and what theyre trained for, and they dont even have a real choice or the brains to make one. It makes me feel lower than dirt every time I need to harm one, not to mention theyre hellish in a fight. Persistent, strong, fast, and with big teeth. Which is how I wound up treed by three of them. With a cat. A very unhappy cat.
Xiaodan hadnt told me about the dogs. Since I was doing this as a favor to her, I figured that it was because she didnt know they were there or she didnt think they were important. Either was equally possible, but she wasnt the deceptive kind given her open, guileless face as shed discussed this with me. Lovely and especially busty, but not terribly brainy is sort of how Xiaodan came off, so I always thought of her as having boobs instead of brains. Which was just fine because she made a killing as a stripper. Shed ditched her boyfriend (read: sugar daddy) some weeks ago when hed started slapping her around. Hed retaliated by kidnapping her cat a couple of days ago. The bastard didnt like the word no and apparently thought that settling petty scores by kidnapping a girls cat was a brilliant plan. I wasnt quite clear on what he wanted. Some sort of leverage to hold over her? For what? One last screw for closure? Or did he just want to hurt her? Whatever the case it was fragging retarded. Im not sure Xiaodan was any clearer on the reason than I was.
So thats where I came in. Xiaodan and I werent really all that close, but I was on my way out of Boston anyway and she was very upset. Not to mention she always gave me a good heads up on who was a likely mark and had a lot of money. Well, her ex liked pretty young Chinese women and I mayve been fifteen or so, but I looked seventeen at least. So getting an invite back to the place where he took his squeezes was pretty amazingly easy. I just grabbed the cat (that was currently trying to claw her way beneath my jacket and thwart the bracers I wore as she freaked out about the dogs) and waltzed out of there. Everything wouldve been fine except that I had to take the back and then there were those damn dogs. As for the presence of the mastiffs, well, no fragging wonder he felt comfortable without metahuman security.
Sharp claws dug into me, catching between the laces of the garment that had protected me from much her frantic scrabbling. Ow! I snarled at the cat and attempted to keep her in a one hand so I could climb higher into the tree. Lihua! Im trying to save both of our butts and if you do not stop this right now I swear I will drop you! I growled at her in Chinese, figuring that since thats what Xiaodan talked to her in shed be more likely to understand me. She mustve sensed it was an empty threat because she just yowled and attempted to claw me through my jacket with her hind paws. For a tiny gray and white fluffball who was a little afraid of mice, Lihua sure could bring it. Ow! Stop it, cat!
I managed to get further into the apple tree, even with one hand occupied by a squirming, spitting, clawing cat and with three mastiffs barking and jumping about the trunk. I didnt want to hurt them and didnt have anything besides a couple of knives anyway, but they were getting bolder with each jump, attempting to climb their way up, and I didnt want to get mauled either. Luckily what with me being trapped up an
tree I actually had ammunition. I plucked one of the still hard, waxy fruits and hefted it in my free hand, admiring the weight and attempting to ignore Lihuas teeth as they dug into my palm with varying levels of success. It hit one of the dogs straight in the muzzle, causing it to flinch away and then make a much more ferocious jump at the tree.
Clearly I had miscalculated. However, now that I had started I didnt see much option out of here except to see if I could pummel them into unconsciousness with fruit. Or something, Im not really sure what my thought process was besides Oh balls. I was almost relieved when a deep voice barked
Platz! Fuss!
and the dogs abruptly backed down and ran off in the direction of the voice. A low chuckle outside of my range of view followed this, and then I recognized Lyles slacks and his shoes and groaned to myself, the sound turning into quiet yelp at the rake of claws down my arm.
Clever, Luciana, he said and kicked one of my fallen missiles. He leaned down, giving me a glimpse of his pale hair and eyes, waving with a little smile that wasnt friendly at all. Why dont you come on down and we can talk. I havent even called the cops yet. The three giant dogs that followed behind him made me rather consider that refusal was by no means a real option. Yeah, I was well and truly treed now. So I exited the tree, trying to make it look graceful and unconcerned even as Lihua spazzed out and tried to maim me. That didnt stop me from cuddling her to my chest protectively while eyeing the dogs with blatant mistrust.
I followed Lyle inside and, long story short, agreed to do a bit of business for him (that didn't involve spreading my legs) in exchange for him not calling the Star on me and also for letting me take Lihua out of there and back to Xiaodan. There mayve also been some money involved, but way less flash than it wouldve been worth normally. Between the dogs and all, I still didnt see much option in refusing and it sounded like a pretty simple thing, albeit a little dangerous. Besides, I couldnt go back to Xiaodan without her cat. It was fragging stupid.
Thats how I wound up in South Boston, sitting on top of a one level storefront in full armor, checking out the warehouse across the way with binoculars. Lyle owned it and stored some merchandise in there. Hed been having trouble with some gangers hitting his holdings, and had information that this was the target tonight. He decided he wanted to send a message and deal with the thefts. And thats where I came in.
There were four of them when they came around midnight, and I silently cursed myself for not currently owning a rifle. I hated them, but it wouldve been useful. I cursed even harder when I noted Bane-Sidhe colors and signs, subtle things, but I still caught them. Frankly it made me even more thankful to be wearing a helmet. I counted three humans and a troll. Joy, a troll. I dont really have much against trolls in the sense of racism, but I really dont like fighting them when I can avoid it. The fact that they have long as sin arms and can send me flying with ease is explanation enough. They went in through a side door off an alley, leaving one of the humans on the street for lookout.
Time to get to work,
I told myself, stowed the binoculars and then flicked the visor on my helmet down. The guy seemed edgy and strung out, his attention focused towards the closest busy street as opposed to the less well traveled end from which I came. It made it easy to sneak up behind him, yanking his head back with my gloved hand over his mouth and cutting his throat before he had a chance to call out or do anything but struggle weakly against me. I could feel my blade slide easily in through the muscles of his neck and the carotid and jugular below the hyoid, meeting the slight resistance of his trachea and overcoming it easily. Even as he gurgled, jerked and flopped against me I delicately wiped my knife on his shirt and then eased his corpse onto the ground beside a dumpster.
The closed dumpster sat against the wall of the alley opposite the warehouse and further towards the entry of the alley from the door theyd entered. It wouldnt smell too nice, but it would give me the high ground for at least a moment and having someone fly out of the dark at your face is a startling experience for anyone. My suspicion about the odor was confirmed in full as the stench assaulted my nose as soon as I hoisted myself up onto the lid. Well, Id definitely need a shower after this, but I knew that anyway by the slight scent of blood that clung to my gloves. I drew my swords and crouched, holding them flat against the lid of the dumpster. So I waited there, a shadow of darkness in an already dark alley.
I didnt have to wait too long before two of them burst out of the building. It was the humans, of course, which made me mentally curse myself. I wanted to take the troll out first, but something told me he was lagging behind because he had volunteered or been volunteered for the task of glorified beast of burden. The two young men laughed and joked quietly with each other and were on the whole the epitome of cocky inattentiveness, up until one of them noticed their buddy wasnt anywhere in sight and pulled up short. Thaddy? one of them called and then, not getting a response, cursed and reached around his back.
Missing the trog or not, that was my cue to enter from stage left. Unfolding smoothly and taking one swift step I launched myself from the top of the dumpster, I kicked the bright one in the face, my boot catching him beneath the chin as I flew past, my blade drew over his shoulder, giving it a steel and monowire kiss as he careened backwards. I hit the ground running, ignoring the surprised shouts and cursing. It didnt matter compared to the next opponent. He pulled out a combat chain and flashed me a wide, tooth filled grin. A number of animals bare their teeth or smile in a display of fear, a fact brought to you by my sister. Turns out, people do it too. I know I do, and I suspected he was too. Id killed one of his mates and just taken the other down and was coming for him fast. I knew what I looked like too: a faceless shadow with two shiny swords.
The ganger wasnt a bad hand with the chain, but I was better. I started by slicing a line into his right arm, which set the tone for the rest of the short fight. Pitched and heated for a couple heartbeats in which we circled each other, exchanging blows, it ended abruptly when hed wrapped his chain about my right sword, trying to pull it free. I simply let him and, left handed, executed a nearly flawless diagonal slash that hed left himself totally open to, slicing from left to right and through muscle and soft tissue. I reached the base of his ribs and reversed my stroke, disemboweling him. He went down and a deeper shout from behind me announced the trolls appearance.
I turned to meet him, flicking the blood from my single sword. Id prefer to say hi and make friends with two blades, but we dont always get what we wish for.
Christ hes big,
I thought to myself, the realization a bit grim, and then danced forward, darting close and hoping that in this case big really did mean slow. I wouldve been fine except for the sudden, jarring crack of a gun behind me that coincided perfectly with the radiating pain and shock of being shot, even through my body armor. I kept on going, but it made me stumble and slowed me enough for the troll to catch me with a backhand that sent me literally flying.
I collided with the wall head first, the impact jarring enough that I lost my grip on my sword with a dazed mental curse and slid to the ground in a heap.
Dont let go of your sword, Vera,
a nasty inner voice mocked me.
Good going girl.
I couldnt move. I instructed my arm to lift and shift the half a foot required to grab the hilt of my sword that thankfully hadnt fallen too far from my grasp. That limb was feeling stubborn and uncooperative, refusing to even budge at all, so I tried my other arm to no avail. Then I tried my legs. Yeah, nothing happening there. Looks like I was fragging treed. Again.
So, one of the things about head injuries is that it isnt just the collision of something with your skull. Its the fact that your brain bounces about in your skull. A helmet wont always help so much with that if youve got enough force behind you. Contrecoup is more likely to occur when your head meets a stationary object. Sort of like a wall. Its a right slitch, really, and my head had most certainly been rattled.
My breathing sped and my head lolled to the side. Well at least I could move that, even if every other part of me wasnt feeling like working. It felt appallingly familiar and for the first time that night, my fears reared their ugly heads and dug their nails into my throat. I started to hyperventilate and the panicky part of my brain started screaming about how my back must be broken and I was going to be paralyzed forever. Rough hands scrabbled at my helmet, finally removing it as I clamped down on my urge to panic and forced my breathing back under control. I could feel my fingers, which was a great sign, but if I hyperventilated and passed out Id wake up in dire straights, as is often the case.
Both the men looking me over were obviously Irish, but Id already known that based on their gang affiliation. The troll was, as Id noted previously, massive, and he tossed my helmet aside, cracking his knuckles with needless menace. I really didnt need any help being intimidated. Really. The human didnt look as bad as he shouldve given my boot to his face, and while red saturated his shirt from the wound Id left on his shoulder, I could tell that I hadnt hit anything fatal and the way he was moving indicated hed either taken a combat drug or had a pain editor because he wasnt favoring it as much as he shouldve. He still looked hurt, but not as hurt as would be too my taste. He looked pissed and he held an Ares Predator. Predators were one of the only pistols I could reliably identify for a really long time so my analysis of a pistol would often break down into Predator and Not a Predator; clearly my fathers education about types of pistols hadnt stuck with me. Even just by looking, it was also obvious that he was the one in charge here. Great. The injured and probably extra pissed off one was calling the shots.
I often wear my hair braided against my skull beneath my helmets. It keeps it nice and contained and means if I lose my helmet its less of a pulling hazard. Of course, that just makes people consider my piercings as a better target, but thats never gone so well for anyone. It hurts like hell, but it also pisses me the frag off. Whatever the case, those quite obviously pointed ears of mine were on display and I cringed internally when their eyes lit up. Id been in Boston long enough to know that the Bane-Sidhe had a real hard-on for elves. Its in their fragging name and Id seen some of their handiwork.
Its a keebette! the human finally managed to get out around a surprised, hyena-like cackle. He shoved the pistol down the back of his pants again. Apparently Id been deemed no longer a threat. That wasnt surprising seeing as Id been down without moving for too long. Frag, Tiny. Lets get a look at her.
Oh god, they called the trog Tiny? Can we have some originality if you please?
I thought to myself and felt my lips pull into a hard grimace and then returned to the task of berating my arms and legs into actually being worth half a damn and doing what I pay them for. My, I don think she likes us much . Massive fingers grasped my jaw in a tight, painful squeeze that made my eyes water. I prayed that they wouldnt break my jaw, but knew that Id have bruises to start with.
Okay limbs. Do as I say or you are fired! Do you hear me? FIRED!
I mentally yelled and got a lackluster spasm in my hand. Well, that was a start, right? They made lewd comments and debated how to off me and I focused on moving. My head hurt and spun, the itch of thirst starting in my throat. The concussion wasnt surprising to me. Through all of this my shoulder ached (which is a slightly milder word than seems really right), but I was pretty sure if the bullet made it through my armor, it hadnt done too much damage. It was centered nicely over my shoulder blade which had helped protect me some, I imagined, but itd also make moving hurt. When I could finally fragging move.
As with many other moments of my life, I was running out of time. Grains of sand in an hourglass . Neri and I had watched some old animated flatvid shed dug out of god knows where once and someone got trapped in a giant hourglass. Thats what it felt like. Sand pouring down around me, threatening to drown me in it, and the solution out so obvious, and so far away. I only had so much time before they decided what to do with me, and just as threateningly, I only had so much time before I dissolved into blind panic. Id been here before, lying on the ground and unable to move, and those memories hounded me.
Maybe Id taken the wrong tact with getting my arms and legs to behave. So I mentally started composing an apology note to my wayward body parts.
Dear arms and legs, Sorry about the yelling. Its a little bit tense here right now, and Id just really appreciate it if you would give me a hand here. .sorry about the pun. I promise that when this is all over we can go have a nice relaxing bath, and OH FRAG.
The abrupt end came when some of their words filtered into my consciousness: start with her ears.
The fingers about my jaw tightened and Tiny (Jesus Christ why must people keep using that?) used that grip to lift me up. I dont know how often people wind up getting lifted by their jaw like that, but its really unpleasant, particularly when the rest of your body is dead weight. Still, it got a little flail out of my feet, which was encouraging. Or would have been had I not been greeted by the very ugly face and an equally ugly and massive switchblade. Why did they have to make trog-sized switchblades anyway? Why not just use a long knife like a sane person? Finebladesre better quality anyway. (Yeah, yeah, I know hilt length. Blah blah blah.) For all the random and somewhat inane thoughts tumbling through my head, I felt like a cornered animal. Im really attached to my ears.
So heres the thing about cornering animals. Make a creature desperate and they may really surprise you. Take Lihua for instance. She was ten pounds sopping wet, if that, missing half her teeth because theyd rotted and Xiaodan loved her enough to be wiling to pay the exorbitant vets bill, and mice scared her. No drek. Id seen her run and hide behind Xiaodan at the sight of one. However, my left hand could clearly attest to her response to being terrified and trapped. Well, people respond the same way.
Desperation and fear seemed to work wonders to get my body to cooperate too, the ice and adrenaline that suddenly raged even stronger in my blood breaking the spell of paralysis. The troll bellowed and dropped me when I plunged my long knife into his wrist. He staggered back, dropping his switchblade to clutch at his wrist in surprise. I couldnt get my feet beneath me in time to keep myself from plummeting to the ground. At the same time that the human lunged forward I scrabbled for my sword, swinging it up in front of me and bracing my arms. He was so kind as to impale himself for me, eyes going wide in shock at suddenly having a meter of steel partway through his torso. We stared at each other; I was just as surprised as him, to be honest. His mouth opened and blood dribbled down his chin as my shock quickly wore off and I twisted the blade viciously. I may not have been paying attention, but I heard enough to know that my death would have been grossly unpleasant.
A spark of rage ignited inside me and my previous terror fed it like gasoline. Id spent some of my life living in fear and I was so fragging tired of it. Even now when I get scared I tend to just get angry instead. Its like a sword whereas fear just rips me open and makes me weak. Theres a line from this song that Neri loved for a couple days and then forgot about: Anger is your bow and arrow / Its better than a shield for your sorrow. That about sums it up I think. After all, why get scared when you can just get pissed?
I stumbled to my feet and unceremoniously kicked the dying man off the blade of my sword. I was wounded and head-shaken, but fury made me vicious and persistent when I rounded on the troll, a macabre, probably slightly insane grin plastered onto my face. That scrap, like most fights, was short, gruesome, and brutal. I kept him on the defensive and it ended when he finally collapsed from blood loss, gushing from the deep cut I made on the inside of his thigh and the even deeper stab wound in his wrist. My shoulder burned and screamed at that point, my head hurt and hard memories rioted through it.
So my response was a completely dignified collapse onto the dirty, bloody ground and then a good cry. Actually, it wasnt very good. I hate crying. It added to the feelings of weakness brought on by the recollections of past helplessness. Nothing made me feel smaller or younger than being forced to face all those dancing visions of bygone times. It harshly rubbed my nose in all of my failures, the really big ones, and ripped off some mental and emotional scabs without warning or apology. By the time I finally managed to dry my eyes, they ached and so did my jaw. I sniffled and thanked my lucky stars that nobody gave half a rats ass what happened in South Boston, as far as forensic evidence goes.
So, in desperate need of some water, a lot of alcohol, some painkillers, and a fair bit of sleep, as well as a check out by a street doc, I gathered up my drek and split. Okay, I didnt do it in that particular order. My armor had done its job and absorbed the bullet for the most part, leaving an incredibly angry bruise on my shoulder and some slightly unhappy bone, but nothing really permanent. The concussion turned out to be minor, as did the bruising about my spinal cord.
So, the next day I did in fact collect Lihua from Lyle and, with large, finger shaped bruises still livid on my jaw and a shocking number of claw marks on my left arm, presented her to Xiaodan. She made a big fuss over my injuries, but her joy over having that damn cat back helped me feel a bit better about the whole CF that thing was. Up until I got blood poisoning from one of the scratches Lihua gave me.
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Sun Jan 27, 2013 10:44 am
Entry #2 - Marionetta
Written fall 2056
Well, Im back here again. Its been three years so I guess Im not really the journaling type, which is so surprising. Soooo surprising. But this keeps showing up on my bed because
keeps putting it there. And its not that I dont have anyone to talk to or even that I havent talked. Because I have. Its just that I still feel so its my fault we were there anyway, and I feel beyond something.
It started when I found out about a totally arctic new shadow club that was going to be opening up in Brooklyn. I wanted to go check it out, Neri didnt really want to sneak out and go that far. She isnt normally big on my grand ideas of illicit nighttime adventure and often just leaves it to me and Charlie. So she had a long list of reasons why it was a bad idea, interestingly starting with Vera, were twelve, theyll never let us in. I countered by pointing that we, if we wear the right clothing and do the right make up and hair, can pass as sixteen, especially if well be wearing masks. (Besides, its an underground club, how much would they really care?) I know my sister and that got her attention fast. So Neri was won over by the promise of a masquerade on Halloween, as thats what they were doing as their big first night.
I left outfits and all to Neri as she has a tendency to go wild for that sort of thing. Which is how we wound up as two angels, my black to her white. Our outfits had accents of the other color for continuity she said. So the plan was to meet Charlie and Chip inside (not one of our best), but that never happened because over the music we never did manage to coordinate and the place was huge. I mean, really. That wasnt ideal, but since we were there, why not have fun anyway? And we did, well, up to a point.
We danced our butts off, costume watched when our feet got tired, and met a couple interesting people throughout the night. One of the best things was the exploring, the place had three levels after all. We also turned down a number of drinks with varying levels of grace. Neri isnt overly fond of alcohol and I wont drink in public, especially at a club Im not really supposed to be at anyway. Weve only really gone to clubs with Charlie and Chip, if not a bigger group, so getting hit on so much was somewhat surprising and wouldve been quite creepy if we didnt look older than we are. Also wouldve been extra skeevy too if it wasnt by the youngest people in the crowd, really. It was still weird. Neri got a little shy about it, but most of them were pretty chill about being turned down. Were still a little young for that sort of thing and Ive got my eye on someone anyway.
So shortly after one in the morning we managed to find a couple empty couches in a tiny, almost hidden balconies and occupied one. Theyd done something with the acoustics or whatever, so without being actually closed off it was way quieter than the rest of the club, at least enough for some semblance of conversation. We ditched the masks cause the feathers tickled and then got back to costume spotting. There were some really amazing ones and some pretty lackluster ones too. So we sat there, half using each other as back rests which put our heads close enough that we could hear each other with little effort. We giggled and talked and started to consider going home when a woman asked from behind us if she and her companions could join us.
We said yes before we even looked them over. It wasnt like we owned the space or anything, and everything else had been really packed. They were all humans and I think in their mid-twenties. The woman was tall and slender, dressed in a black leather and fishnet demon costume. One of the men accompanying her was decked out as the grim reaper, and the third as a pirate. Its amazing how you can talk with people for awhile and say a whole lot of nothing. But they, especially the women, had a wicked sense of humor and kept us engaged. Eventually I decided that I needed another drink and we all had a laugh when I tried to get up and fell back on the couch in a tumble when one of the wings I was still wearing got caught on Neris. The pirate came with me to get drinks for his companions and was kind enough to pay for our sodas.
I dont know how they got something into the drinks, I never let anyone else touch them, but Neri and I both started to feel it at the same time. At least, I started to realize that my fingers and head werent quite right just before she signaled that it was time to go now by catching a bit of the fabric of my dresss top and tugging it more sharply than she would otherwise. We stood to excuse ourselves and suddenly found us with an escort each. The pirate wrapped his arm about my waist in a familiar gesture, holding me close and supporting me as my feet started to stumble, and the grim reaper did the same with Neri. My tongue tripped over words as I tried to protest and I couldnt find much fight in me, and Neri was much the same. I eventually gave up protesting and simply watched her succumb as well.
The man hustling her out of the club looked at her the way a feral dog eyes a fresh piece of meat. His hand swept over her side, belly and hip in a covetous fashion. Creepers always go for Neri first without fail. Its unfortunate, but not that surprising. Charlies pointed out that as were getting older its easier to tell us apart. Were both really slender, but Ive got a little more muscle mass. The most noticeable difference, he says, is in how we walk and hold ourselves. At heart Im a fighter and shes a dancer and performer and it shows. We might both move with a lot of innate and trained grace, but therere fundamental differences that I think people pick up on at least sub-consciously. One of these is that Ive got more fight than Neri and if a predators looking for prey, shes the more likely bet.
I cant remember much for a while after that which disturbs me even if it isnt at all surprising. Neri doesnt remember tons either. My last clear recollection is being almost gently placed into the trunk of a car, Neri following me shortly. It wasnt a big car which pressed us together in the cramped, dark space. That was, in some ways, a blessing because all I wanted, or rather, the least of what I wanted, but the most important part, was to know that my sister was close. Neris hand found mine and squeezed gently while our legs wound up tangled and my forehead pressed against her shoulder. A moment of silent communication passed between us, clear and vivid as speech.
Im scared.
Me too. I love you.
I love you too.
Neither of us wasted effort on reassurances with either our touch or our thoughts. At about the point you wind up drugged in the trunk of a car youre a little past that, I think. We passed out, lulled into uneasy unconsciousness.
I awoke to a lumpy mattress beneath me and the sound of an argument. I didnt actually know what was being said it sounded like Spanish to me but yelling sounds the same in any language. The door opened and shut and at least one person left with that sound and a woman started to speak in Japanese, it sound like a phone conversation, just based on the cadence of her words and the long pauses. That or she was talking to herself, and I managed not to giggle hysterically at that thought. My Japanese isnt nearly so good as Neris and my head still spun and there was a dull ache behind my eyes so understanding her at all was beyond my ability. I couldnt bring myself to open my eyes for a long time.
I could feel a zip tie around my wrists and Neri next to me even before I opened my eyes. Based on what I felt I was still wearing the black dress with its ridiculous knee-length skirt of feathers and streamers and artful rags of sheer gauzy fabric. The wings were definitely still present and I was wearing my boots and everything else, except my mask. It was a good sign, not the zip tie or the fact that I was pretty sure I didnt have my phone anymore (it occurred to me that I shouldve used it earlier, but I didnt even think of that. I didnt think of much), but everything else, and Im not big on prayer anymore, but I prayed so hard that Neri would be in the same shape as me when I opened my eyes. I thought she would be, my gut said that she was scared, really scared, but not hurt, and awake, but I couldnt bear the idea of being wrong.
I wasnt wrong. Our eyes met and hers were full of fear (so were mine), but I know my sister and I could see in them, in the expression about her mouth, that no one had touched her or hurt her. We stared at each other, agreeing wordlessly that staying quiet and cooperative would be our best choice for the time being. Let them underestimate us or at least think that we wont fight. Suddenly Neri paled, her jaw tightening in obvious response to something the woman said and her eyes widening with surprise and terror the reached blind panic. Her mouth worked for a couple moments as if she wanted to say something, to whimper, to scream, and tears prickled at her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trembling slightly and I reached my hands out, grasping at hers, folding them in mine.
When our eyes met once more, she mouthed a word, five clear syllables. I couldnt understand it the first time and just stared blankly. Seeing my confusion she repeated herself again, and then again once more. Third times the charm and I half wished I hadnt figured it out then or ever. But it was better to know maybe.
I shut my eyes and tried and failed to suppress my shiver. I knew what she meant and why she was telling me. My thoughts werent the clearest, but I still knew. Im young and I know that, but that doesnt mean Im near sheltered enough to not know that theres an awful lot of trouble two young girls can get into. Its not that I think none of that can happen to us, its just that I okay, maybe I did. I dont know. But theres some horrible fates out there, and I didnt think to be facing one of them. I guess that was some of the problem, I never thought it all the way through.
I still knew the implications. No one would have to tell me those. Someone was going to put something into my head, and it would steal my self from me. They were going to rip my mind from me and, in doing so, flay little bits of my soul away. Bit by bit and eventually nothing would be left. It would lock me inside a prison so that anything could be done to my body and the thing they left in my place would welcome it. And when I returned, the real me, Id come back to damage and ruin, a broken body and a mind that cant even know what happened to begin to cope. I know it sounds dramatic, but thats what it would be.
And it wasnt just me. It was my sister too.
Theres no way Im going to let something like that happen to me let alone Neri. But wed already agreed wed wait. And its not like I could really do anything. Theres only so long you can lie in one position and pretend to be asleep, so by the time the door opened and the others came back she knew that we were awake. At the very least we had some time to compose ourselves somewhat. Andres, Julio, get them up, the woman commanded in English, probably for our benefit. One of the men walked around the edge of the bed behind Neri and grabbed her, one hand beneath her arm scooping her up and then the other about her waist picking her up completely. I was roughly grabbed by the shoulders and moved to sitting on the bed unceremoniously as the man I think that was the grim reaper sat down with Neri placed in his lap and a switchblade in one hand.
I watched him draw the blade along her throat and over her collarbone, down her arm, the tip touching, but not nearly hard enough to break her skin, his free arm still wrapped about her waist. The terror in her eyes is what cut me, but I forced myself to look away, instead looking at our captors once more. All were Hispanic humans and that was the most notable thing about them. Now, the woman said, pulling up a chair and sitting between the foots of the beds. Her voice was false sweetness and full of threat. Lets have a little chat. Honest answers, girls, because it would be an awful shame if Julio slipped with that knife.
While I still havent been able to make anyones head explode with my mind, I really wanted to right then. Julio kept his hands to himself for the most part, and Andres let me sit up on my own as we talked. I didnt lose my temper, which was a near thing. She, I sort of picked up that her name was Blanca, asked about the two of us, our age, so on and so forth. Family matters werent discussed which was probably a mistake not to ask for her, but I guess they didnt care. Neri didnt say anything about it, and I wasnt going to either if she didnt.
There was more than a little tension in the group that our answers did very little to alleviate. If anything it got worse. They continued to argue, mostly in Spanish, which is one of the many languages I dont know and neither does Neri. There were more heated fights, and it seemed like it was Blanca and Andres on some side of things versus Julio. For the next couple hours, Neri and I curled up on one of the beds and, well, we fell asleep. My head wasnt feeling particularly wonderful and hers wasnt either, so it was spectacularly easy.
It was dark outside when someone shook us awake. At the time I was pretty sure it was Julio, and that got confirmed when he hauled us up. I was a little bit groggy still and actually missed his instructions, but the message was obvious. Keep quiet or else. Do as I say or else. He kept a firm grasp on Neri and herded me ahead of him, apparently pretty sure that I wasnt going to bolt when he had my sister. He was right, but I dislike someone using her like that. The motel parking lot was sparsely lit, but it was enough for me to see by as my eyes quickly adjusted.
He opened the back of a van, grabbed me by one arm, and practically threw me inside, my thighs banging against the bumper and something scratching up my leg. He lifted Neri a little more gently and set her to sitting inside, climbing up after her. We sat on the floor and exchanged a look. Now or probably never. That pocket knife of his made a reappearance and cut the zip tie about her wrists, replacing them with handcuffs which he looped over a rail that was placed into the siding, securing her there. Then he turned to me.
Over his shoulder I watched Neri lean forward and began to comb her fingers through her hair, watching Julios back with a certain edge of panic. He had a firm grip about one of my wrists when he cut the tie about them. At that point he noticed Neri draw a pin from out of her hair and turned slightly away from me, annoyance and anger lighting on his face. Chip and Neri had picked up a lock picking book from somewhere and have been going through it with general success, and shes good with her fingers, so if she had enough time . So thats what Id give her, time. I leaned back and drove my heel into his solar plexus, hard enough that he released his grip on me in surprise and tumbled out of the van.
I followed after him. This is when my memory actually starts to flake out which bothers me a little. It feels like a dream, like it happened to someone else or in a trid or something. Aunt Elena said something about it having to do with trauma and then I stopped paying attention. The why doesnt bother me that much. I care that it happened at all.
Theres things Im know for sure. I know he was holding back, probably because he didnt want to damage the merchandise. Thats creepy, but it worked to my advantage so I cant complain. I know that when I kicked his elbow and dove for the knife he dropped, he started to fight in earnest more. Id gone from being a little girl to a little girl with his knife. I know he hit harder from the left than right. Im not really sure how I know that since I dont remember him hitting me. I also know that he wanted to get me into a grapple, and thats the very last thing I wanted. Personally, I was walking the line between fear and rage, I had plenty of both. It made it easier to shrug off the blows, but more wary of them too. Being afraid is not a good way to fight.
I also know the list of injuries I incurred because I asked Aunt Elena to tell me. But I still cant remember how I got most of them. I figure the cracked knuckles are because I punched him, I maybe remember doing so, but maybe thats because I know I damaged them . Im not sure. The cracked ribs are pretty self-evident, I suppose, and the fractured cheekbone and damage to my right eye are too. Really I dont remember what happened, but the worst part is I cant remember exactly how I dislocated my shoulder. It hurt like hell so youd think I know, but nope. Nothing. Even if I did, I still dont know how to describe it.
I know Im avoiding the real issue. What can I say about it? I fought someone and then I killed someone. Its not like it was even an accident. That memory at least is so clear its surreal. My shoulder was beyond hurting and Id seen no sign of Neri yet. I hadnt wanted to be in the fight that long, just long enough to let her get clear before I ran. It surprised me almost as much as him when I sunk the knife into his chest. I could feel the beat and pulse of his heart and stared up into his suddenly ashen face. He looked as scared as I felt.
I pulled the blade out. I know that if you stab someone in the heart, thats a death sentence, but I didnt even think about that. I was too shocked and its not how you want to feel someones heart beat ever. Its one of the worst things Ive felt. I remember it all so fragging clearly. The gush of blood, the slump of his body . I didnt mean to kill him, but there wasnt much I could do then. I mean, applying pressure would do jack and its not the sort of thing you can take back. Its not like putting the blade back in and saying sorry would help. Not that I did anything, or even thought of it. I wound up sitting down where I stood somehow.
So I guess I went into shock. Thats what they tell me anyway. I felt numb all over and everything got even funnier. Not in the sense of funny haha, but it was all just so weird. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I should search for the key on him and get Neri, that I should figure out where we are so I could call Dad. I should have done many things, but I felt so broken, like a puppet with its strings cut. I wasnt really present anymore, its like some part of me had taken the side door out. Next thing Im really sure of was Neri kneeling beside the corpse. Next to the man I killed. Christ. She stripped his phone and grabbed the knife from the ground where I dropped it, snapping it shut and shoved the phone into her boot as an after thought. I found the bloody smear her hand left on the white faux leather fascinating. Then she grabbed me and pulled me to my feet.
So Ive never dislocated my shoulder before, and everything was pretty hazy and I was still pretty numb emotionally, but I think I can do without the experience again. Moving was agony and I think I screamed and wound up on the ground again. Then she grabbed my arm and did something that was god awful and made my vision blur. At the time I wasnt aware that shed just relocated my shoulder for me, but everything got better after that and a little less foggy and I came back to Neri whispering apologies to me and hugging me gently.
Then we ran. Well, Neri dragged me along behind her and hid us. She called Dad, I remember her crying on the phone, sitting curled up with me, tucked into a hidden recess below a stairwell. He was already looking for us, hed known we were in Brooklyn, courtesy of Aunt Elena who he had with them. We waited in silence because at that moment if we said anything wed need to talk about the blood on Neris hands and clothing and the larger amounts splattered all over me. It had
. It was easier to say nothing right then so we huddled together and I imagine that we looked peculiarly out of place and sorts as odd as I felt: two bloody angels huddled together in a dirty street. Oddly appropriate.
Dad came and found us. He and Aunt Elena took us to her home because it was closer, and I think they told us then that someone was cleaning up. It didnt occur to me to be worried, at the time. Aunt Elena put me back together on the way home, shifting my bones back into place and healing all the deep damage. The bruises and cuts that were left are still fading, some of them, but its only been a week. At least the blood is gone from the whites of my eye. I walked straight into the bathroom when we got there. I removed the wings, turned on the water and stepped in fully clothed. I sat on the floor of the shower, my knees bent up to my chest and my hands about my feet. While Id like to say that I was thinking about doing something or at least what happened, I wasnt even really doing that. I was just sitting there, staring at my toes.
The water was starting to lose some of its heat when Aunt Elena and then Dad knocked on the door to see if I was alright. I think I told them I was fine, which was such crap. It was pretty lukewarm when Neri walked into the bathroom. I actually looked up for the first time since Id sat down. Her hair was wet and she was wearing PJ bottoms and a tank top, I guess shed taken a shower in the other bathroom probably. She opened up the door to the shower and stepped in, sitting on the floor with me. It didnt matter that the water went from barely warm to cold to freezing. We sat and cried together.
About when the temperature started getting unbearable Neri bailed and I scrubbed myself raw, the cold and the clean helping me feel a little more alive again. I crawled out of the shower and into a bed with Neri. We slept for over a day then sleepwalked through the next few days. It was hard on the both of us, horrible for sometimes different reasons, and some of the same. Weve talked about it, what happened. Dad and Aunt Elena have talked about it with me separately, and with her. Well, they talked at me sort of. Its kind of like what happened with Uncle Marco, I dont really know what to say.
Im still a bit queasy over the entire thing. More than a bit. I dont know what to think about myself either. I killed someone. I think he deserved it, what he was doing was so very wrong. If it wasnt us, it would have been someone else I think. I wonder if theyd done that before. I feel like they may have which makes me even queasier and more unsettled. It doesnt change the fact that I still killed him. The memories keep coming up on their own. The pulse beat of his heart that I could feel through the knife, the rush of his blood and its heat and its
. I still feel like I can smell it on my hands and thats the part of it that disturbs me the most, that I keep getting whiffs of it. The sheer amount that came out of him is also . Who would have thought the man to have had so much blood in him?
I dread seeing Charlie and Chip. Neri and I are so very grounded and I think this is the first time neither one of us (well, really me) is going to flout that after that. Its nice to not have to go anywhere to be honest, its a relief not to have to face anyone besides family, and even then, not much of them. The thought of going outside is a little bit terrifying, and Neri found and turned on a nightlight for the first time since well. That thing with Uncle Marco. Im so glad she did, it helps some. I talked to Charlie and explained it to him a little, and he sounded broken up, like he felt it was his fault for not finding us when we got there. In the end, though, Neri will be okay and thats what I care about. I was beat up, but not as bad as I couldve been. I feel so odd about everything, and I think thats guilt, actually, but it isnt consuming. I guess that first night Id worried I wouldnt be able to live with it. I felt so bad. So afraid and I hate that feeling. I woke up and threw up twice that night. The first day I couldnt handle food.
Im surviving. Its getting easier as it gets less immediate. This still doesnt occasionally keep me from spazzing out over it still, but thats happening less. It felt like there was no returning to normal whatever the hell that is, but now that feels like its much more achievable. So I guess from here I take it day by day. (Of course, I think its likely that in another hour or two Im going to be curled up under the bed crying again.)
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: Neophyte
Posts: 48
Joined: 26 Aug 2010
Date Posted:
Wed Feb 20, 2013 6:19 am
Entry #20 - Kitten
Things can get really ugly when you bring grudges into a job. Running counter to an established crew is a risky thing, and the pay wasnt as good as youd normally hope, but a very smart fixer hooked the clients up with Meifeng and Charlie. Two factors played into the groups acceptance of the job: the fraggers had kidnapped a little girl which isnt acceptable and oh my was there a score to settle. An eye for an eye and all that. So when just who wed be running against came out, we literally jumped on the opportunity. I was in New York to start with, Id just actually arrived less than a day before, and it was fortunate I had been since the op was rather time sensitive. I also had signed on for free, because, well, there were reasons.
We had less than twenty-four hours from our morning meeting to plan and execute the counter-snatch. If we didnt manage to get her, theyd be handing her over to their employers and wed have a much harder time retrieving her. The fact that I was back for a bit from Vegas was incredibly fortunate. The girl was Chinese and would be more comfortable with a familiar face, not to mention her family had set up some passcodes for just this sort of thing, private family phrases that would indicate to her that someone was sent by her family and could and should be trusted. They were all in Chinese and in a situation like that having a
like Charlie or the rest of the group bungling the pronunciation would not be helpful.
Which left me or Mei. Now, we knew that there would be astral security to tangle with which really left just me. Besides, while I stood surveying my route of ascent and waiting for Chip to cue me, it occurred to me that she would be very unhappy climbing that, and then climbing back down, especially with a child in tow. It was really a simple plan, and one that could get fragged if a couple things went wrong like if Mei didnt manage to draw or destroy the watcher spirits and keep their master busy. However, Id seen her with an absolutely massive
just before I left. The woody being looked, to my eyes, slightly exasperated by the three little watcher spirits she had with her as well.
I worried about Charlie and the rest of the team. Based on the fainter sounds of mayhem I could hear, things were going at least somewhat as intended, but while Chip may have been in direct contact with everyone except Mei, I was out in the cold because, well, the less he talked to me, especially early on, the less chance someone would pick it up. Meis body was with him, and if the worst happened, hed know, but if things changed for her shed be sending one of those Watchers screaming back to him to report. So I stood and fidgeted because there wasnt much else to do as I waited. Letting my thoughts wander would have been a horrible idea.
There wasnt much to fidget with as I waited, so I checked my gear. I wore light, flexible everything, the armor plating in the garments sparse as I needed speed and flexibility more than anything. A harness over that all set for my eventual descent. My fingers touched the tiny earpiece and the mic taped to my throat and the transceiver on my belt before I started to check on my other gear. One combat knife, two combat knife, check. Glass breaker, check. Pack with rappelling gear and clothing, check. Gecko gloves and spares, wrapped tight in water proof packing, check, I was already wearing one set of gloves and kneepads. Unlike the humans in our group, there was plenty of ambient light around for me to see clearly by, so fortunately I didnt have to frag around with goggles in addition to everything else.
One in ninety, Kappa, Chips clear voice intoned in my ear. Well, at least Mei said thered only be one guard. That was a plus. I was always K to Chip, and since we were Greek letters tonight, that made me Kappa as opposed to Kilo, 11 or any of the others Id been. I moved from the place Id camped out, not worried right now about any real stealth. The darkness would help, and I was worried about getting where I needed to be in under a minute and a half. It wasnt a lot of warning and my mind wandered to what the hell might be happening with them out there, but I pushed that away.
Focus on the here and now, Vera, and what youre about to do,
I told myself as I tugged on the gecko tape soles.
It was up three stories to a window, the dry adhesive doing its job as I made my way carefully up the building. I paused at the large window, peeking into the darkened room and seeing nothing, then examining the glass and exhaling a sigh of relief that I had the right tool for the job. I had some back up items in the pack, but Id prefer not to use them, so I readied the glass breaker and waited for Chips signal. I hate the waiting, honestly, sitting on the edge of readiness and unsure of when, and even if itll all work. Delicately I set myself up, one foot actually placed on the slight sill of the window, the other foot, knee and hand pressed firmly into the wall to keep myself anchored.
Silence. The single word was my indication to get my butt in gear. I had five minutes. It meant the others had activated the jammer and had hopefully cut off anyone who would be upstairs from calling for help. My hands were protected by synthleather gloves underneath the gecko tape ones and I turned my face away as I rammed the pointed tip of the tool clenched in my hand into the window, the glass shattering inwards and I followed it, stripping off the gecko tape shoe soles and gloves I wore, ripping off the kneepads none too gently. The room was dusty and a mess, clearly they hadnt bothered cleaning this one up when they took it over as a safehouse recently. Ah, well, no matter. I heard a curse through the door and readied a flash grenade in one hand, pulling the pin and then carefully readying a knife in the other. I heard footsteps coming towards the door and yanked it open, tossing the lovely present I had out there and then ducking back into the darkened room for cover.
A sudden yelp of pain greeted the detonation of the grenade that I knew was accompanied by a blinding flare of light and I rather suspected that the guard had been within the blast zone. I had very little sympathy, and doubted that it did any real lasting harm. Itd sting, but if she (I suspected it was a she, just based on the pitch of the voice) was wearing any armor, itd do next to nothing, probably. In any case, getting your retinas a bit seared by light doesnt feel so great either, to be honest. Id yelp too.
My suspicions about the gender of my opponent were confirmed as I burst into the short, reasonably well-lit hallway. Good god that was a big ass ork chick. I didnt actually recognize her, which meant that she was either hired in or a new acquisition of talent. While I had no grudge here, I certainly mentally applauded her complete and total lack of taste in compatriots and felt a slight pang of disappointment. If it was Poison well, his head wouldnt even bring Charlies eye back, to say nothing of Rydra, but it would make me feel a little better. I would simply have to settle for damaging their reputation and humiliating them. Some part of me cringed at the idea of showing up to rescue a kid all covered in blood anyway, and just cringed at the prospect of spilling more at this moment. I was better off not getting into a pitched fight to the death.
With an absolutely dazed expression, the ork staggered back from me, the rifle I can only assume she had dropped in favor of clapping her hands over her ears dangled at her side on a strap. Not that it did her much good, I assume. Since Id already opened our acquaintanceship with a flash grenade, I figured that a reasonable follow up would be a tornado kick, given the surprisingly wide hallway. Just in case my sentiment over this wasnt clear enough, I felt the need to convey just how much I disapproved of her business associates and current business practices. Who the frag kidnaps little girls and expects not to get a spinning kick to the face?
It was beautiful; I had the perfect amount of space to gain momentum, got more than enough air for it to just be executed with jaw dropping perfection .sort of literally jaw dropping, in some ways. Sometimes I wish I had an audience. I only seem to have anyone watching when I frag it up. Her head snapped to the side and she slammed into the wall, managing to stay up somehow. Blood ran from her nose and a slice over her eye, and she blinked in my general direction, pushing away from the wall and towards me with a little stagger. Unable to see well enough to aim she dropped low and swept at my feet. A butterfly twist up over her leg put me on her now undefended side and I brought my leg down hard over her shoulder, my heel clipping the back of her head.
She went down hard, and stayed there. Even when I unceremoniously turned her over onto her back and dug around in her pockets, hunting for the key to the door two meters off to my right. First I stopped to check her vitals and she was breathing and her pupils were even fragging responsive. Damn orks and their concrete skulls. After that, I managed to quickly procure a maglock key that looked likely, I swiped the door and was greeted to the sight of a completely dark room. Using only the light from the hallway I scanned it, seeing only a six year old girl huddled on a dirty mattress in the tiny closet. I flicked on the light, and went to her, kneeling beside her I unslung the tiny pack and began to talk as I readied the rest of my gear, slipping the lightweight rappelling line over my shoulder for later, clipping the already prepared rappel device to my harness. I didnt have enough time to do one thing at a time.
Zhou Ying stared at me, eyes wide and slightly suspicious as we exchanged the rather complex pass phrases her family set up. By the end, however, she looked relieved and close to tears when we finished. My name is Daiyu, I said, still in Mandarin. Ive always gone by Daiyu when occasion calls for it, and a familiar sounding name certainly helps put scared people more at ease. It still didnt keep me from feeling a surprising pang as I used the name Neri had selected for me to try and calm a scared little girl further. Trust me. The mental clock in my head told me I had less than two minutes to get out. I did have a child-sized harness in case I got fragged and had to climb out, but that would push me for time and even if she fell it wouldnt kill her, just lead to some broken bones. But I wasnt even going to think about that because I was not going to drop her.
They say practice makes perfect though, and Id spent the entire afternoon practicing each part of this I could possibly rehearse to get them beneath a certain time. I needed to have plenty of time to remove obstacles such as any guards and also reassure Ying and get her willing to work with me. Since I wouldnt be able to do this with a fighting child, and I wasnt going to add on the trauma of being tranqed again or bodily restrained. She wore the footie pajamas that shed been in when shed been kidnapped, and her small face had an exhausted, bruised quality to it. I slipped sneakers onto her feet no sense in risking glass or worse in them if she had to run or walk - and picked her up, narrating for her everything that I was going to do in simple, easy terms.
I carefully picked any sharp shards of glass from the bottom edge of the window Id broken. Then I affixed the rappelling line to whatever remotely appropriate anchor I could find, and tossed the tail of the line out the window. That detail escapes me, actually. I certainly didnt give it my full attention as I was more worried about making my descent one handed with a child clinging to me. Ying looked at me wide eyed as I picked her up next to the edge of the window, adjusting her carefully so I held her tight in one arm, instructing, Now hold onto me very tight, okay? Her skinny little arms wrapped about my neck, and I used my free hand to gently guide her face into the crook of my shoulder. The last thing I really needed was her kicking me in the stomach because she didnt like heights.
Rappelling one handed is not a fun experience, especially when you have the extra burden of holding a kid, but I cant really decide if its worse than the more creative methods of tactical rappelling. Not that any of that stopped me from reaching the ground safe and sound. The rope dissolved with the touch of the catalyst stick and I rearranged Ying in my arms, turning and darting through the empty alleys of this section of Newark. Three short blocks brought me to a well-sheltered alcove, and I tugged off my gloves and harness and began the task of pulling additional clothing onto both of us. Baggy pants that went up over both our shoes, light, loose jackets, zipping hers up and tugging her hood over her head and face. My own tactical boots were replaced with more worn, slightly ratty ones, very carefully because I didnt know what exactly might be underfoot. I shoved everything into the pack and pitched it into a nearby dumpster. All of it was disposable, and not worth carrying in case someone started playing whats odd about this picture.
I ripped away the pins and bands that kept my hair braided and pressed close to my head, shoving them into my pocket and carefully combing my fingers through my hair. When I picked up Ying, encouraging her to hide her face against my shoulder and neck again, we looked more like a young woman going home with her very tired kid sister than anything else. Nobody gave us a second look as I turned onto the busier streets, disappearing into the crowds. I contacted Chip to let him know we were out and clear.
It took over an hour to make it to the small, absolutely sterile and soulless apartment Charlie had set up in Newark as a safe house of sorts. It was perfect for this, and comfortable for all that it lacked personality. Ying fell asleep sometime on the way over, but when I put her down onto the couch and started to remove the sneakers she woke right back up. I ushered her into the bathroom to take a shower and had provided a baggy t-shirt, but sweats in her size. Also slippers. When she emerged I was already making her a quick soup for a meal. It might be after midnight, but she hadnt eaten in awhile I suspected and although Ying denied being hungry, I suspected that as soon as food was placed in front of her, she would eat ravenously. My suspicion confirmed, I sat with her at the table and told her stories, fairy tales and myths that I remembered from my childhood, or that I had picked up in my travels. I told her of how Raven stole the sun and brought light to the world, searing his brilliant plumage to dark black. I told her the Chinese story akin to Little Red Riding Hood that I heard from Mom, where a wolf makes his way into the home of three little girls, disguised as their grandmother, and they ultimately trick and kill him. Fairy tales are grim things, after all, but much of their darkness is lost on children.
Chip came in with Meifeng while I was trying to get Ying settled and asleep. This meant more stories, and I even sang her a song or two. Mei looked like drek. Things probably hadnt gone the smoothest tangling with their astral security, but aside from being one step from painfully pale and showing evidence of a once bloody nose, she seemed like shed be alright. Chip helped her into one of the two rooms wed set up as bedrooms, and then jacked in to do whatever it was he did.
With Ying finally asleep, I set up in the window of the living room with a rifle, just in case now. I trusted Chip to keep track of the security features he set up. My first indication hed jacked out was the flicker of a screen in the room, the monitor showing the feed from each of the four cameras hed set up. He stumbled from the second room, and looked at me, bathed in the glow from the screen and the light from the street outside the window. Chip looked exhausted too, itd been as long a day for him as anyone else, and I suspect hed taken long haul a couple of days ago. The look he gave me was one of slight shock, as though he was seeing a ghost.
D he breathed and then shook his head, a look of faint hurt entering his hazel eyes before he clenched his jaw and corrected himself. Sorry Kitten. Chips one of the only people I know who was always able to tell me and Neri apart. It was uncanny. At least when she was alive he never called me Dove, his pet name for her. Since she died he started slipping up more and more, and I always felt like he wished shed been the one to live and not me. That isnt really fair to him, I didnt think he thought that even then but its how I felt. So I thought everyone else ought to feel that too.
Chip helped himself to a bowl of now-cold soup, pulling up a chair to sit beside me. Itd be better if you heat it up, I intoned quietly, tired and comfortable enough with my old friend that I fell back out of the habit of streetspeak, keeping my eyes on the window as he scanned the monitors. I felt more than saw him shrug, and he noisily slurped, making a quiet noise of satisfaction.
Its tasty this way too, he pointed out and then stared at his bowl suspiciously. And you cooked, K, didnt you. There was surprise in his voice, and I didnt blame him. I hate cooking with a fiery passion, and avoid it at all costs. Hell, I mostly tell people I dont (and that if I did theyd wind up accidentally poisoned), even though it was a mandatory part of my childhood. Chinese and Italian women are expected to cook, it just comes with the territory. My quiet grunt as I met his gaze served as confirmation enough.
I guess I havent really written much about who Chip is to me, here. Hes one of my oldest friends, way back from when Charlie first made friends with me because he appreciated my willingness to take on bigger, stronger opponents in defense of my sister and the fact that we were old for our age, even then. We were the odd little elf girls who didnt fit in anywhere. Chip was taller than me, with long, lean muscles because for all he was a deckhead, he still believed in hitting the gym. I knew from experience they werent just for show and hed smile and tell me that he cant get girls if he looks like a scarecrow whenever I teased him about it. Which was such bull. With his tousled blonde hair and cute face, I often wondered why he was perpetually single and then Id remember again.
I dont remember exactly when I realized that Chip had a massive crush on my sister. So big he was in love. Neri knew too, although she didnt like to talk about it, and I knew her well enough to be aware that how bashful she increasingly became whenever I brought it up meant she was approaching the point of doodling their names in hearts. Ever the romantic, she waited for him to make the first move, and he never got the chance. I could see them together easily, in many ways, and I could also see them apart. I didnt ever ask Chip whether he was haunted by the what- ifs and could-have-beens, but I knew he was. He confused me for her because her memory haunted him; it haunted me too.
Youre really good with the kid, he commented quietly, eating the soup and watching the screen. I half expected to come in and find her crying, with how youd sounded when you contacted me to set up your travel. I didnt want to talk about Vegas, and I didnt want to talk about how I felt about the kid, or why I did things that normally you couldnt pay me enough to do. I told a fragging bedtime story and tucked her in, after all, which says nothing about the fact that I
I know what it feels like, and the devastation it brings, I said quietly, and rubbed at my eyes. I was exhausted, but couldnt find it in me to want to sleep. I was uncomfortable with the idea of letting Chip stay up all alone to keep an eye on security. It also occurred to me that I ought to ask about Charlie and the rest, but if things went sour there, Chip wouldve told me. Instead, I was focused on things that had happened years ago, and part of my attention was, for better or worse, in the other room with the little girl who we were taking home in the morning. We werent I wasnt even that young, I added, my voice descending into a whisper.
I know, K, Chip sighed quietly, reaching out and patting my hand where it rested on the stock of the rifle lain across my lap. You did a good thing, taking care of her tonight, and shell be okay. My shoulders hunched and I looked away, shutting my eyes for a moment. I knew Id done good, and that the girl in the other room would be better for it, but this was a child whod just had her sense of security and safety in the world shattered. Coming back from that is a hard thing, and I sometimes wondered if I had ever recovered any feeling of safety ever. I also wondered if I did enough good things would it make up for all the bad. It showed on my face because Chip frowned, leaning back in his chair and cradling the near empty bowl. Was Vegas really that bad? he asked quietly.
He wasnt asking if my time in Vegas had been so bad, but why Id called him to arrange travel with very little warning and no small amount of desperation. So he asked about the state Id shown up in and the reason Id run from the city like a bat out of hell. It was a fair question, since I hadnt been particularly forthcoming with the details or especially gentle in our conversations. I didnt want to talk about it, but I would have to, one day. Someone at least ought to know. So I nodded slowly. Oh Kitten, he whispered, reaching over to catch me about the back of my neck, drawing my forehead to his, and we stayed there for just a second before my attention went back out the window and his went to the monitor. Wanna talk?
No, not really, but that didnt stop me from telling him all of it. Every last awful thing. Turns out Chip had caught some of it from a screamsheet, but not in full, gory detail. I didnt even give him that, but saying what had happened made me queasy and he knew it. It occurred to me that what happened there wasnt who I was then, or who I am now. I didnt regret killing those men, but I did regret how Id done it, and what Id done before. That it was the start of a dark and lonely path was not lost on me, and it wasnt me. I dont have many illusions about myself or my actions, but I do know what I am not. Neri was dead, but in this one instance, I couldnt even begin to imagine what she would say.
My sister would still love me, even though what I had done would disgust and horrify her. Shed forgive me, not because I deserved it, but because of who I was. Thats the funny thing, everything that happened until that point, I sought no forgiveness for, and certainly not from myself. Im trying to live a life without regrets now, and thats when this started, but I dont know how anyone does.
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