|Jack Lucian Bantock (outlives_you) wrote in age_of_miracles,|
@ 2007-12-23 00:27:00
|Entry tags:||accord, attack of the clones, vertigo|
Log: Accord and Vertigo
Who; Jack Bantock and Vertigo
When; Backdated to December 19th, just after V gets pwned by Carol
Where; Jack's house in Clinton (that's Hell's Kitchen to the rest of you)
What; Vertigo goes to Jack for help after getting pwned by Ms. Marvel, and ... Jack's an asshole and doesn't really care if Sinister's pissed at her. So she throws her hand at him and gets up to leave and hits him with her powers, and Jack's like, "Bitch, please" and zaps her. And V gets pwned. Again.
Jack knew that Vertigo was going after Ms. Marvel, and though he didn't know the details, he was pretty sure she would fail. Just on principle. V could be good at her job, when she knew what she was up against, but quite bluntly ... she had no idea what she was up against this time. And Jack thought that was kind of funny. Then again, Jack wasn't the kind of person to worry about other people.
Carmilla was off somewhere, leaving Jack home. He was loving this mutant superiority thing; it meant he didn't have to listen to his stupid neighbors be obnoxious. He'd already made a fuss to the (mutant) police about it, and they'd been arrested for a ridiculously long time just for annoying him. It was great, and Jack was in such a great mood that he wasn't smoking, drinking, eating, or watching old movies. Instead, he was playing his sax at an ungodly volume. He was good at it, too, and rather loving life right now. A couple friends were back from the dead, Vertigo was fucking herself over, and humans were on the low end of the food chain. Beautiful.
"Stop playing your motherfucking sax and open the goddamn door!" came the shriek from outside. Vertigo was dirty, bloody, and pounding on Jack's door with her left hand, practically sobbing. "Jaaaack! Jack!" Her voice got extremely high-pitched and annoying when she was screaming, and then she was kicking his door like she was trying to knock it down.
Jack didn't hear her at first -- and then when he did, he ignored her, content to just lay on his couch and play until he was good and ready to get up. ..And then she seriously started to annoy him, so he finally stopped, putting down his instrument and going to the door to yank it open.
"What the fuck do you want, V? I was busy." She looked like hell, just like he'd figured she would. Hah. "Don't tell me. Ms. Marvel beat the shit out of you, right?"
Vertigo responded by punching him in the face. "Back off and let me in."
Jack took the hit, stumbled back, and cursed, bringing a hand to his face to make sure he wasn't bleeding. "You crazy bitch---! The hell is---no, no don't answer that. I know what's wrong with you."
"Why don't you tell me while I clean up, asshole," muttered Vertigo as she came into the house, tracking dirt in with her boots. She would have looked hot in the tight leather, all battle-hardened and tousled, if she didn't look like she was going to kill someone if they looked at her sideways. Her bionic hand was mostly missing, fingers cracked off and leaving jagged, exposed gears and wires that sparked.
Jack was used to her, and even if he thought she was incredibly hot -- who wouldn't? -- she was ... kind of a total bitch who'd just punched him in the face. That ugly bionic hand wasn't helping her, either. "Someone's in a bad mood," he muttered, kicking the door shut -- and, at the absence of his sax, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, tapping it against his other hand and pulling one out with his lips. "Big bad bionic hand didn't stand up to the blonde bombshell, did it?"
"Shut up," Vertigo muttered, bending over to tug off her boots----which she found she really couldn't do one-handed right now. She'd had a short recovery time living life with one hand but then she'd had the robotic hand at all times except in the shower. Soon, the failure to take off her boots had her sobbing softly and slumping down on the floor. She was crying because she was angry and angry because she was crying and that just made her cry harder. "Shut up...! I went after her! I went after her, no one else did!"
It was all really fucking pathetic, and Jack just rolled his eyes and lit his cigarette. "You jumped up and had to be the big girl about it. 'Course no one else did. Shoulda let Gambit or Saturday take care of it." Because Jack sure as hell wasn't going after Ms. Invincible. He had a hard enough time getting his business done and staying under the Kingpin and Daredevil's respective radars. (...Not that he wasn't doing work for the Kingpin here and there. He was on decent terms with the guy, actually. Well, figuratively speaking, but his presence was overwhelming in Clinton and when Sinister wasn't putting him on jobs, someone who answered to the big old Kingpin was.) "Don't bitch at me because you did something stupid."
"Gambit can't take care of it," muttered Vertigo. "I don't even know if Saturday can take care of it. I... I..." She sniffled, tugging her knees against her chest. She was really rather genuinely injured, but her pride was in far worse shape. "He's going to kill me."
"Probably." Jack shrugged, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. "If you're lucky, he'll think it's funny and let you live. Hopefully."
Vertigo was busy hooking her ruined bionic hand and she chucked it at him. "Should be killing you bastards for not having the motherfucking balls to volunteer. He's going to kill me because I stuck my neck out and tried and I ... I..." She looked down at the stump at her wrist and promptly burst into small, girlish sobs. "Motherfuck..."
Jack ducked, letting the bionic hand hit the wall -- and then he was sighing and plopping down next to her, taking care to blow smoke in her face to make it clear he wasn't getting buddy-buddy with her. "We're not stupid enough to go after her without a plan and a hostage. You keep trying to prove yourself and fucking up, it'll be worse than if you just sat back and waited for orders."
"I want my hand back," she whined, as if she hadn't been listening to anything he said. "She's a fucking bitch, fucking invulnerable bitch..."
"You shouldn't've fucked with Gambit, stupid. You've got this thing where you manage to pick the guy that hates you the most, and then you leave yourself wide open to get your hand blown off." Jack snorted. "Idiot."
"Gambit's not the guy that hates me the most," Vertigo said with a little sniffle, daring to smile a bit as she glanced at him.
"Sure he is." Jack took another drag and glanced over. "What is that look for, V?"
"You are," said Vertigo, nudging him with her stump. "Asshole."
He rolled his eyes, flicking the ash off his cigarette and onto the carpet. "I know what you're doing, V. It's cute, but it's not working. Go play with Gambit if you want hatesex."
"I didn't say I wanted hatesex," said Vertigo with a pout. "I said you hated me more than Gambit."
"And I said you have this thing that you do with men that hate you. I don't do the thing. I'm not in the mood for the thing."
Vertigo made a face. "I wouldn't fuck you if we were the last two people on earth and I had a gorilla holding me at gunpoint telling me I had to do it." She scowled, folding her arms and glaring at the floor.
Jack snorted, blowing out smoke. "Liar."
"Jack, you have to make sure Sinister doesn't kill me," she whispered, the subject changing as if it had been on her mind the whole time.
And he laughed. "Why in the hell would I do that, V? I'm trying to keep me alive. Why would I get between you and him?"
"Because I don't want to die. I don't want to die because I tried and failed. I don't want him to make an example of me because I couldn't bring home one of his goddamn science projects," Vertigo whispered, sounding horrified. "I wanted to do this so I could ask a favor, I wanted him to.. to clone me a hand and give me a real hand again. I know he could do it. Now I've... I have to fucking go back with my tail between my legs and beg for a new robotic one and pray he doesn't string me up like a side of veal."
Jack wasn't a nice guy. He wasn't sympathetic, and he hated sob stories. So while she talked, he raised his eyebrows, holding his cigarette between two fingers. "...And?"
Vertigo slowly turned to him and stared. "Remind me not to care next time you get fucked over."
"I'm not too worried about it. I rarely get fucked over, because I don't jump unless I know what's at the bottom." He shrugged, taking another drag like he was bored. "Go kiss some X-Men's ass if you want the sympathy vote, V. It's not my problem if you get in trouble."
Vertigo shrugged lamely. "I don't want sympathy. What I want is a shower to clean up and a couch where I can sleep."
"This ain't a goddamn hotel, you know."
She scowled at him, green eyes flashing, and then she tugged herself up off the floor and stalked back to the front door. However, she wasn't above giving Jack a nice vicious jolt of her powers to induce a vomit reflex.
Jack didn't take it well. He was bent over, a hand over his mouth to keep from vomiting -- and reaching back with his other hand to give Vertigo a good zap just before he threw up. "Bitch," he spat, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
Vertigo shuddered with the shock, slumping against the door frame. Thankfully she didn't have the bionic hand, or else something was likely to break or explode. "I'll find my own way out, thank you." And then she was leaving, slamming his door shut.
Pushing himself to a shaky stand, Jack spat, not caring if his floor was dirty -- and then he was opening his front door, stretching out a hand to zap her again. He had better aim and better concentration now, and he wanted her to get his point. "You ever fucking come to me for help and then use your goddamn powers on me again, and I'll leave you babbling like a four year old like I did to that fish bitch. Swear to fucking god, V, I will do it."
"Jesus Christ!!" Vertigo shrieked, tumbling down the front steps and landing in a crumpled, awkward heap on the sidewalk.
Jack snorted, slamming his door and muttering, "Fucking bitch," before going to his kitchen to wash out his mouth. If there was one thing he hated, it was that post-vomit aftertaste. Ew.